The disciples were astonished that Jesus was speaking with a woman. In their heads and maybe whispering to each other, “Jesus, what on earth do you want from her? Why on earth are you speaking to her?” Yet, they said nothing about their confusion and consternation. But since Jesus brought them to the Samaritan city of Sychar in the first place, let’s just say the surprises keep on coming. You see, Jesus and his disciples had been in Jerusalem, for Passover, and it was time to head back home. And Jesus told them – we are going back to Galilee, but we have to go through Samaria. Wait, what Jesus? You do know that Samaritans live in Samaria. And you know we are not supposed to come in contact with Samaritans which the woman at the well also knew perfectly well – how is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman, of Samaria? She knew her place. She knew her place at the well very well. And when the disciples return after getting lunch in town, they remind us, they remind her, and they remind Jesus of her place.

And yet here we are. After the longest conversation that Jesus has with anyone in the Gospels. It’s a conversation like none other. One that goes from misunderstanding – “Uh, Sir, you don’t have a bucket and the well is deep – what is this living water you are talking about?” To the courage to say to her townspeople, come and see.

It’s a conversation that goes from “I am not going to lie. I’ve had five husbands. A couple died. A couple divorced me assuming that I am barren (sidebar here, women had no control over their marital status in those days). Maybe saying to Jesus, “You see I have no children and now I am living with my dead husband’s brother. And here I am fetching water at noon because I just can’t stand the judging eyes and the condemning questions anymore. I just can’t. I just can’t bear it anymore.” To Jesus compassionate and empathetic, “I know. I know what you have gone through, and I am so sorry.”

It’s a conversation that goes from theological questions – “If you are a prophet”, she says to Jesus, “Tell me, where we should worship?” to Jesus' own revelation, “Neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem, because your God is here, the word has been made flesh.”

It’s a conversation that goes from, “Prophet, I do believe the Messiah is coming” to Jesus saying, “Not only am I the Messiah, but I AM. Did you hear that in the scripture reading? Your God. You know, burning bush I AM? Moses burning bush I AM?” It’s quite a conversation indeed.

But really how did we get here? Jesus and the woman at the well are in the wrong place, at the wrong time – who fetches water at noon? A rabbi and a commoner. A Jew and a Samaritan. An unmarried man talking with an unmarried woman. Alone at Jacob’s well. She knew her place. And no one let her forget it. But Jesus doesn’t care. In fact, He goes out of his way to find her. He had to go through Samaria. It was necessary for him to go through Samaria. Jesus is in that Samaria space to invite her to a different place.

Because guess who gets to hear the first “I AM” in the Gospel of John? To whom Jesus first reveals his true identity? Not the Pharisees. Not the Jewish leaders. Not even the disciples. But her. A woman. With no name. A Samaritan. Because you see, John 3:16, for God so loved the world, really is true. Jesus had to go through Samaria to find her. It was necessary to go through Samaria to find her, his first witness, to show the disciples, to show us what God loves the world really looks like.

So here we are and the conversation could have ended so much sooner than it did. What could the woman at the well have done? What could she have said?

She could have said something like, Um, thank you. That’s all very interesting, it’s all nice and good. Would you like another glass of water? She could have walked away pretending the conversation never happened in the first place. She could have stayed silent. But instead she comes back to her townspeople and she shares that for God so loved the world love - she says to them “come and see.” She is Jesus' first witness, which is likely why Jesus brought the disciples to Sychar in the first place. See what she just did, you all need to go do that. Because how can God love the world without us?

BUT, before you can issue the invitation, before you can go return to your village people, walking that long dirt road back to those judging eyes and rejecting glances, back to so-called friends who had no problem letting you go to the well on your own. Those people who didn’t want to be around you. Those people who adjudicated your worth based on falsehoods and fallacies. Those people who dishonored and discredited you. Those people who don’t know your truth. Those people who made assumptions and mandated stipulations. Those people who defined you by what happened to you. You might have to leave your water jar behind.

It's a detail so easily overlooked. Or assumed unimportant. “It just means she would come back later and get it.” Really? That’s all it could be? We can’t do better than that?

Could it mean leaving behind her pain, the blame, and the shackles of shame. Leaving behind those untruths and accusations. Leaving behind what people thought of her instead of who she knew herself to be, even believed herself to be, who God saw she could be. The Samaritan woman at the well leaves behind her disgrace, which she believed was her place, walking into the light of God’s grace upon grace.

There is so much that weighs us down, preventing us from living into who God is calling us to be – and maybe even needs us to be. Heavy, wooden buckets filled with old scripts, our sense of worthlessness. Guilt pressing down on our shoulders like the yoke that carries those buckets to and from the well. Jars full of the burdens and barriers that block us from walking into acceptance and love. What are those things that are weighing you down? That tell you to be more, do more, pray more, that you are not enough. That prescribe how you should act and describe who you should be. That tell us to be someone we are not. That serve expectations and placate so as to please others. That hold us back, that have us convinced that God could not possibly go out of the way to find us?

When we can name those water jars and set them down, leaving those buckets behind at the well, it is then that we might begin to imagine what God has in mind for us, what God might be calling us to do, what God might be needing us to do, trusting in a future that God is fashioning. We are liberated. We are free.

But I know. You’ve depended on that jar. It’s what you have always known. As oppressive as it is, it’s what’s familiar. And more often than not, whether it comes from deep within ourselves, or from the pressures of our families, our friends, our communities, and even our churches, it’s easier to stick with the usual, the traditional. The safety and security of a known space is often the choice over the uncertainty of a new place. We are too tired to imagine any other way. And so it’s easier to continue to carry the load of that jar than imagine a life free of its weight.

Yet, while we are minding our own business, doing our daily chores, maybe even hiding from God, alone, hoping that God doesn’t see us for who we really are, believing that God could not possibly love us just as we are, there goes Jesus through Samaria needing to go to Sychar to find us.

Dear friends in Christ, today what jar will you leave behind at the well?