A Welling Up of Life!

Tiddalik, the largest frog ever known, awoke one morning with an unquenchable thirst. He started to drink, and he drank until there was no fresh water left in the world. The creatures everywhere were soon dying and the trees were shedding their leaves because of the lack of moisture. It seemed that very soon Tiddalik the frog would be the only one alive. The animals could not think of a way out of their terrible plight, until a wise old wombat suggested that if Tiddalik could be made to laugh, all the imprisoned water would flow out of his mouth.

So everyone gathered by the giant frog's resting place. For a long time they tried to make him laugh, but in vain. The kookaburra told his funniest stories, so good that he could not help laughing at them himself; the kangaroo jumped over the emu; and the blanket lizard waddled up and down on two legs making his stomach protrude; but the frog's face remained blank and indifferent.

Then, when the animals were in despair, the eel, Nabunum, driven from his favourite creek by the drought, slithered up to the unresponsive frog, and began to dance. He started with slow, graceful movements, but as the dance became faster he wriggled and twisted himself into the most grotesque and comical shapes, until suddenly Tiddalik's eyes lit up and he burst out laughing. And as he laughed, the water gushed from his mouth and flowed away to replenish the lakes, the swamps, and the rivers. (“Tiddalik the Flood-Maker” from The Dreamtime Book: Australian Aboriginal Myths, Rigby, 1973, Text by Charles P. Mountford, p. 24).

The Aboriginal dreaming story of Tiddalik is a story about seasons: about the dry season when there seems not enough water for anything to live; and about the coming of the wet season in a bursting deluge. People who live in the north of Australia talk about the dry and the wet and the tension that builds in the environment and the human community before the rains come to break the spell of waiting and watching in heat and humidity.

Our Gospel story is also a story about seasons, about building tensions and about the release of that tension is flood of awareness of the promises of God.

In the Gospel of John, “Prior to this story of Jesus’ visit to Samaria, Jesus’ activity has centered on the people and places of official Judaism”: Jerusalem and the temple, Nicodemus the Pharisee. Now we find him in Samaria and away from the official people and places of Judaism, away from his tradition and its important institutional symbols. “At the time of Jesus, the Jews and the Samaritans were bitter enemies”, and the source of that enmity was religion. Specifically, it “was a dispute about the correct location of the [rightful] ... place of worship”. About 300years before the coming of Christ, the Samaritans had built a shrine on Mount Gerizim. The shrine stood in competition with the temple at Jerusalem: a second holy place for the worship of God. The shrine was destroyed by Jewish troops in 128 BCE. And the bitterness of religious difference had continued as only bitter religious divisions can.

So, “when Jesus meets the Samaritan woman at the well ... he meets someone who provides a striking contrast to all that has preceded” this story in the Gospel of John. “When Jesus speaks with Nicodemus in John 3, he speaks with a male member of the Jewish religious establishment. In John 4, he speaks with a female member of an enemy people.” Their conversation is a scandal and the woman knows it: “How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?”

Now the more popular recent interpretations of this story have generally emphasised both that the woman was from Samaria—a foreigner and an enemy of the Jews—and that she was a great sinner. The first emphasis is significant although not perhaps as significant as some have made it to be, the second emphasis is a misinterpretation of the story, and, in the process of that misinterpretation, the fact that she was a woman has not been made important enough. For while Nicodemus has name and a social position; the woman is unnamed and has no social position; and both can be accounted for by the customs of the time.

“The popular portrait of the woman in John 4” is of “a woman of dubious morals” who is “guilty of aberrant behaviour”. However, everything that is reported of her can be explained by the religious traditions of her people: traditions shared by both Jews and Samaritans. “There are many possible reasons for the woman’s marital history”. We should be wary of choosing the most popular and “dominant explanation of moral laxity”. “The text does not say, as most interpreters automatically assume, that the woman has been divorced five times but that she has had five husbands.” We are given no more explanation than that, but there are many more plausible for her time than sexual promiscuity. “Perhaps ... like Tamar in Genesis ... [she] is trapped in the custom of levirate marriage.” A woman was passed on to successive male relatives after the death of her husbands in the hope that she would eventually bear the first husband an heir by a male relative who gave up entitlement to his firstborn male child in favour of the dead previous husband. If she was indeed divorced, she would have been divorced by her husbands and the prime reason for divorce of a woman by a man at the time was on the grounds of the woman’s barrenness. The text is more about how the woman has been thrown on the scrap heap by the customs of her society—the customs of both the Jews and the Samaritans—than it is about the way in which she has wandered into some kind of fictitious moral degradation.

“Significantly, the reasons for the woman’s marital history intrigue commentators, but do not seem to concern Jesus.” Nowhere in the story is there an exchange about sinful behaviour. Instead, the discussion is about the truth and meaning of life and the worship of God. It is a theological conversation entered into by a foreign woman with the one who identifies himself as the Christ, the Messiah. And their discussion is about the transcendence of the customs of both the Jews and the Samaritans. It is about a religion of “spirit and truth”, not of institutional rigidity. The Samaritan woman “is the first character in the Gospel to engage in serious theological conversation with Jesus” and when she does so, she shows that she is up with the issues: “How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?” “Are you greater than our ancestor Jacob?” “Where is the proper place to worship God?”
“Many commentators have dismissed the woman’s words to Jesus as a psychological ploy, as a classical act of evasion to change the subject from the [supposedly] embarrassing truth about her morals. Commentators have doubted whether this woman would have been able to understand the substance of Jesus’ words to her.” But “the text presents the woman as ... unafraid to stay in conversation with Jesus [as competent in contributing to that conversation and as recognising] Jesus as [at least] a prophet [and] ... the perfect person of whom to ask her question about worship.

It is in the asking of the question and the receiving of the gift of the revelation of Jesus’ messiahship that the floodgates are opened and the woman is restored to a position of significance in her community as the one who brings her community to Jesus. It is in the asking of the question and the receiving of the gift of living water the boundaries of convention are broken and the message of Jesus that the grace of God is for all people everywhere is given. The seasons have changed and it is her time to laugh. (Quotations come from Gail R. O’Day “John” in The Women’s Bible Commentary pp. 295-296)

The gift of baptism draws us into God’s season of grace—God’s promise and present of reconciliation between us and God, God and the whole created order. Today we celebrate the gift of baptism—the season of the overflowing grace of God; and we are reminded of our baptism—our incorporation into the mission of God and the ministry of Christ in the world. We are invited to open our mouths and our lives to allow the outpouring of God’s love through those same mouths and those same lives.

Some of us want to hold God’s graciousness to ourselves; and some of us haven’t yet fully grasped that that gift of grace is fully ours. All of us are called to hear again the promises and purpose of God that

By God’s grace, baptism plunges us into the faith of Jesus Christ, so that whatever is his may be called ours. By water and the Spirit we are claimed as God’s own and set free from the power of sin and death. Thus, claimed by God we are given the gift of the Holy Spirit that we may live as witnesses to Jesus Christ, share his ministry in the world and grow to maturity, awaiting with hope the day of our Lord Jesus. (“The Meaning of Baptism” from “The Service of Baptism”, Uniting in Worship 2).

As the baptised people of God, we are called to celebrate the welling up of God’s life not just for us, but for all.

On the Mountain-Top!

There is a famous painting of the Transfiguration by Raphael. The painting depicts Jesus floating idyllically in the air above a mountain with light shining all around him. Beneath the mountain is a valley. The valley is filled with people fighting and scuffling.

Mountains and mountain top experiences have been considered to be important from very ancient times. In the Bible, many significant experiences are depicted as occurring on mountains: the receiving of the law by Moses, Moses’ call from the burning bush, Elijah’s defeat of Baal’s prophets. In ancient times as well as in not so ancient times, it was the mountains which offered protection for defenders and a vantage point for the offense; it was the mountains in which the Hebrews were forced to live while they fought the people of the plains for the promised land; it was the mountains which were seen as reaching up to God who was depicted as living in the sky. The people on the plains were vulnerable and open to attack; the people on the plains were open to the temptations offered by prosperity; the people on the plains were seen as being farther away from God in a spacial sense. Mountains were considered to be important and mountain top experiences were coveted and desired.

But when Jesus comes the message is turned on its head. When Jesus comes, the experiences of the plain and the valley are recognised as the stuff of real life. Mountain top experiences are to be enjoyed and learnt from but not lived out of because there is a danger that if you try to live out of the mountain you will miss the view all together.

In one of the most famous of his addresses, Martin Luther King Jr. talked of going to the mountain top. He spoke of having a vision of a changed world. He spoke of the effect which this had had on his perspective on life and in particular on the Civil Rights’ struggle with which he was involved. For Martin Luther King, that mountain top experience had been a reassurance of his understanding of God’s will for the world. It was a reassurance that meant that in the midst of the continuing struggle for the rights of Black Americans, Martin Luther King was able to affirm: “I’ve been to the mountain top and I don’t mind.”

At the time of his speech, there was still much change in American society to take place before black and white people could truly stand together as equals. (I guess that that is still true.) But Martin Luther King had received a glimpse of that possibility, in the community of those who were working towards that vision and this led him to say the day before his assassination: “Well, I don’t know what will happen now. We’ve got some difficult days ahead. But it doesn’t matter with me now. Because I’ve been to the mountain top. And I don’t mind.”

Martin Luther King believed that he had seen a glimpse of God’s realm in the lives of the people who were working for justice in American society in the 1960's. This glimpse of God’s community of justice and peace had given him a renewed hope, a renewed vitality, a renewed strength with which to continue in the path to which he believed that God had called him. He could continue to walk through the valley of racial hatred forging a new path for the people of God to walk along because he had seen from the mountain top a glimpse of the God’s vision for God’s people.

In the Gospel reading for today, we hear about another mountain top experience. We hear about Jesus going up a mountain together with Peter, James and John. For Jesus, it was a mountain top experience. He is depicted as communing with two of the great leaders of the Israelite people and afterwards we hear that powerful and wonderful affirmation “This is my son, my chosen; listen to him!” “This is my son, my chosen; listen to him!” Whatever happened, it must have been a mountain top experience.

For Peter and James and John, the three disciples depicted, the experience seems a little frightening, somewhat disarming and ultimately embarrassing. I mean, here Jesus is having this wonderful spiritual experience and here the disciples are, asleep. Then when they wake up, they think that they had better get in on the act so Peter rushes in with his usual foot in mouth caution and says, “Hey Jesus, let’s set up three tents—one for you and one for Moses and one for Elijah. We’ll stay here awhile. This is really great! Haven’t done anything this exciting in months.” But according to the story, he might as well have been talking gibberish because he really had no idea of what was going on. He wasn’t really in the action at all. He was just looking on.

Then, as the story goes, a cloud comes over and a voice speaks and by this stage in the story, the disciples who at first wanted to stay there, now just can’t wait to get down because this is all a little weird. Sure, they’ve been on the mountain but they really don’t understand their mountain top experience. This isn’t going to help when they go back. This mountain top experience hasn’t helped them one bit. For the disciples, this mountain top experience only leads to confusion and fear. They have no idea what to do, how to react, what the vision on the mountain top really means for them and for their lives with Jesus. Jesus, recognising their confusion, asks them not to mention the vision to anyone until “after the Son of Man has been raised from death”.

Mountain top experiences are only useful if they help us to walk through the valleys and live on the plain. If all mountain top experiences do is make you want to retreat to the safety of the hill or to pretend that you can always live on the mountain, then what use are they? The reality is down here on the plain.
When I read the story of the transfiguration of Jesus and especially about the disciples who are mentioned, I am always tempted to ask about the others—those disciples who were not depicted as experiencing this vision on the mountain. And of those people, mostly women, who are never depicted as participating in the mountain top experiences of Jesus’ life.

These ones must and do deal with the realities of day to day living without the glimpse beyond the mountain. They are the ones who are constantly there subtly and often imperceptibly woven into the tapestry of Jesus’ life. They are the ones who participate in the mundane and the distasteful. They are the ones who prepare Jesus’ meals and they are the ones who wait at the foot of the cross. They have not been to the mountain top, they are not described as seeing God’s vision in the same way that Peter, James and John are. They have not seen the vision yet they are the ones who are faithful to God’s realm. They are the ones who participate in the struggle without the glory, the mundane without the extraordinary. They too are the heirs of the God’s community of justice and peace, the children of God.

And it is not just in the story of Jesus, that we find important characters who do not experience the mountain top but who remain faithful. Moses was met by God on the mountain but pulled out of the bull-rushes by women; Elijah was champion of God on the mountain but sustained through drought on the plain by a widow.
Jesus, too, knew about mountain top experiences but he was not afraid to walk through the valley and the plain and finally to another hill where we discover that the mountain top experience and the valley road are all one in a true pilgrimage with God.

Yes, we need mountain top experiences but we cannot live on the mountain.
And for many of us, mountain top experiences are few and far between. For many of us, the valleys seem like bottomless pits and the plains like neverending steppes. For most of us, the mundane seems to be our lot. But it is here in the valleys and the plains, in the mundane that we truly encounter Christ.

On the mountain the disciples see Jesus but they cannot be with him. On the mountain, the disciples see the vision but they cannot participate in it. On the mountain, the disciples hear God’s words about Jesus but they are unable to respond to them. It is only when they return down the mountain that the disciples are again able to begin to participate in the struggle for life and to work towards the coming of God’s realm.

Mountain top experiences are useful only insofar as they equip us for our continuing journey on the plain and in the valley. Mountain top experiences are important only insofar as they give us the hope, the strength and the vitality to endure the valley path. Mountain top experiences are significant only insofar as they confirm for us God’s plan and God’s will for our lives. It is in the valley and on the plain that much of the stuff of life is worked out.

We need mountain top experiences but we also need people who are willing to translate those experiences into the valley and the plain, who can truly say that their experiences have equipped them to be effective disciples away from the wonder and awe and glory in the ordinary and even in the distasteful, who can say with Martin Luther King, “I’ve been to the mountain top and I don’t mind” because they see the stuff of eternity in the fragile world around them.

Hold fast to the mountain for what it is but remember there is much work that remains on the plain. On the mountains we may see visions, but on the plain we participate in the work of God.