Written on February 15, 2008

[For the February 24, 2008 lectionary: Exodus 17:1-7 + Psalm 95 + Romans 5:1-11 + John 4:5-42.]

WELL WOMAN by Larry Patten

One of the joys I experience is sensing the presence of the Holy in the daily moments and events of my life.

One of the uncertainties I have is wondering if it's really the presence of the Holy I experience in the daily moments and events of my life.

I write these words, nearly every week, reflecting on thoughts I’ve had, or people I’ve encountered, or a sound-sight-smell-touch-taste I’ve witnessed, and connect each or all of those to God at work in and around my life.

I don’t make things up. Or do I?

For my personal reflection time during Lent I’m using Kate Braestrup’s memoir Here If You Need Me. It’s her journey, following her husband’s death, to become a minister. While raising their children, and a recent widow, she enters seminary. Her brother thinks she’s crazy. Braestrup, reading between the lines of her brother’s reaction to her decision, imagines him warning:

I came across an article about a neurological disorder called temporal lobe epilepsy. This disorder induces, among other symptoms, overwhelming, oceanic sensations of religious awe. Maybe—and don’t take things wrong this way; I offer this with purest brotherly concern—maybe you have this disorder?

It’s good to have an explanation for sensing God’s presence. For being open to awe. Temporal lobe epilepsy!

Years ago there were television commercials hyping Memorex, a brand of recording tape. An ad showed a so-called “live” event where a singer shattered a glass with her voice. And then, the same thing happened with the “recoded” voice. The tag line was: “Was it real or was it Memorex?”

Also for the season of Lent, I’ve read John’s Gospel (John 4:5-42) about Jesus’ experience with a woman at a well. Let’s call it the well woman story. It’s a looong story, filled with details . . . it’s noon, they are alone at the well, the woman is Samaritan, their conversation is elaborate, and on and on.

Is the well woman story real? Or did the writer of John make it up? If you take the Bible literally, believing every word is directed by God, you won’t ask that question. But, though I take the Bible very seriously, I don’t take it literally. I think of the Bible as a variation of Memorex, of memories and beliefs recorded by others. The words are biased, imperfect, and (most of the time) absolutely wonderful. Scripture is a gift. A flawed gift, but a gift.

And so, as I read the looong passage from John’s fourth chapter, my first reaction is wondering if it really happened the way it was written? It’s all too perfect.

Jesus said exactly the right things at the right times. He can read her mind. Every metaphor he uses—for he is sharing “living water”—provides greater clarity.

And he’s speaking to, gasp, a woman. Back in the not-so-good-old-days, women were property. Chattel. Just let ‘em cook and make babies. How dare Jesus be so welcoming, so radical.

Even worse, the conversation was between a Jew and a Samaritan, or, in other words, between two enemies.

I’m sure John, the writer, made some of this up. He probably had temporal lobe epilepsy.

And yet, maybe not. I have a second and deeper reaction. While I still don’t take the Bible literally, I am grateful for the glimpses of awe-filled, and unplanned, moments. For me, what makes the Bible a “sacred text” is not that it’s handwritten by a divine decree, but that it so often radically reveals honest human hunger for relationships. It reveals, even in the passages that seem so perfectly crafted, what continues to happen every day in my life. And, I believe, in all lives.

On one day this week, I had lunch with a friend. We carved out a bit of time to talk because I had done (and not done) some things that upset her. She had the courage to tell me . . . because I can’t read minds! While we certainly weren’t mortal enemies like a Jew and a Samaritan, there we were, struggling with imperfect words to find understanding and forgiveness. It was, for me, a Holy encounter, a well woman story.

On one day this week, engaged in physical therapy following recent knee surgery, I bantered back-and-forth with my physical therapist. The therapist knows I am frustrated with my (lack of) progress. She was honest with me, trying to help me understand how long healing might take. And she also helped me laugh, and reminded me not to take myself so seriously. It was, for me, a Holy encounter, a well woman story.

Memorex? Temporal lobe epilepsy?

Call it what you want. As for me, I look forward to today. I wonder what will happen. Who will I encounter? If I keep my eyes open, I will see that there are well women and well men, with living water, everywhere I go.