I think one of the deepest desires we have is to be truly seen — to have someone look at us and understand us in all of our complexities. I also think that there are few things worse than being unseen — to have others take no notice of you or to have others write their own version of your story that does not actually capture who you are.
The longer I’ve been a pastor, the more I’m learning how important it is to behold each of you in all of your complexity. Whenever I am tempted to reduce anyone to something less than their full self, I have to check myself. There’s always more to the story. There’s always something deeper. There’s always a thing behind the thing. There’s always something underneath why a person does a certain thing or responds a certain way.
I know I’m still a work in progress, but I also know that I am trying hard to learn how to truly see each of you as well as I can.
For some reason this reminded me of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. Do you remember that one? It’s Harrison Ford in his prime as Indiana Jones paired with Sean Connery as Jones’ father, Henry, who is also an archaeologist, although not the adventuring type. Henry’s work has centered on finding the Holy Grail, the chalice Jesus used at the Last Supper. That work has actually led to the kidnapping of Henry, so Indiana Jones sets out to find both his father and the grail itself.
Jumping to the end of the movie (sorry if I’m spoiling this for you, but you’ve had 36 years to watch it already), Indiana and Henry are in a cave filled with chalices. The Grail is among them, and the challenge is to chose the right one. The cups are large and small. They are ornate and plain. To locate the correct one, Indiana has to truly see it. That means knowing about it. So, he eliminates the ornate, bejeweled ones, and finally settles on the most humble — the carpenter’s cup. His truly seeing the correct cup allows him to save his father and gives us the happy ending we all want.
Today I’m focusing on another window towards the rear of the sanctuary. This one’s theme is “I am the One whom the Prophets Foretold.” It’s on the east side of the sanctuary just in front of the balcony. There are many “I am” statements in the gospels, but this is not one of them. We see acknowledgements from others that Jesus fulfills prophecy. It happens in Matthew when Jesus enters Jerusalem on a donkey. It also happens at the beginning on John’s gospel. As Jesus is calling disciples, Philip invites his brother Nathanael to come along, “We have found him about whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote.”
This window is focused on Jesus and shows several stories of the intimate connections that Jesus makes with people, revealing himself to be “the one whom the prophets foretold.” I know it’s helpful to trace what’s in the window, so I’ll work my way from the top to bottom and return to the center.
The upper left is the story of Jesus in the home of Martha and Mary, who are two of Jesus’ closer friends. Martha is in the purple above Mary. She is scowling and her left hand is pointing accusingly at her sister, while in her right hand Martha holds a basket of food. Martha has been occupied with serving the needs of Jesus and her other house guests, while Mary is behaving as a disciple, sitting at Jesus’ feet and listening to him teach. Jesus’ gaze is on Mary, the one who would listen to him. In a world where women would not be students of rabbis, Jesus is different, welcoming Mary to learn from him. He sees Mary, but he also sees Martha, and lovingly says, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, and it will not be taken away from her” (Luke 10:41-42).
Moving to the right, we have the famous story from John 3, where the Pharisee Nicodemus visits Jesus at night to ask him questions. It’s the story where Jesus tells Nicodemus that he must be born again, which mystifies him. Nicodemus is a highly intelligent man. He knows his religion, yet he cannot fathom what this means and who is standing in front of him. It’s the passage where John summarizes the gospel, “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.” Notice in this image how Nicodemus remains in the shadows. Jesus sees him, and he sees Jesus, yet he has not come to the place of accepting who Jesus is. I’ll get back to why this matters a little later.
Moving down the right side, we see Jesus calling Peter and Andrew. They are fishermen. At their feet we can see their nets. In Matthew’s gospel, these are the first two Jesus calls. Jesus was walking the shore of the Sea of Galilee, when he sees these brothers. They were casting their nets into the sea when Jesus calls out, “Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.” Remarkably, Matthew tells us that they immediately left their nets and followed. In the window we see Jesus’ right hand pointing towards the fish that are swimming upstream towards the window’s center. These every day workers have received a deeper purpose to their lives.
But, interestingly, as we go down below that, we see one of the moments where Peter really doesn’t get it. Peter has been following Jesus. He’s witnessed the miracles. He’s heard the remarkable teachings. He’s been gifted with every advantage possible, and he still fails. It’s right in the center of Mark’s gospel where Jesus asks the disciples who they believe him to be, and Peter stakes his claim. “You are the Messiah,” he declares. He gets it.
Only he doesn’t, because Peter doesn’t fully understand what it means that Jesus is the Messiah. Jesus immediately starts teaching about how “the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again” (Mark 8:31). Peter pulls Jesus aside to tell him that’s not the plan, but Jesus rebukes him. “Get behind me, Satan!” he says. That’s the scene in the window, where Jesus teaching is outlined with a cloud, showing the crucifixion, burial, and also the ascension following his resurrection. So, if you ever wondered why there were legs but no body in that window, there’s your answer. Jesus is halfway to heaven.
I’m going to focus the rest of our time on the center of the window. It’s the story of Jesus in Samaria from John 4. It’s helpful to remember that Jesus is traveling from Jerusalem back to Galilee, and Samaria sits in between those two places. Because of their history, most Jews would take the long way around Samaria to avoid interacting with their neighbors. Jesus does not do this.
The bad history between the Jews and the Samaritans goes back over 700 years. In 722 B.C., the Assyrians conquered the northern kingdom of Israel, and they repopulated it with people from throughout their empire. Those remaining mixed with with these people in marriage and religion. Over time the rift between the two grew. Samaritans accepted only the Torah (the first five books of the Bible) and rejected the prophets, wisdom literature (including the Psalms), and histories. Their worship centered on the temple they built on Mount Gerazim, a clear rejection of the claim of David’s line and the Temple in Jerusalem. These groups, even though they really are kin, had hundreds of years to learn how not to get along with each other. This is one of the reasons that Jesus’ Parable of the Good Samaritan is so provocative.
In our story, there are all sorts of surprises. The first is that Jesus and his disciples would choose to go through Samaria. I don’t think it’s simply because it’s shorter. No, I think Jesus wants us to know that his ministry is breaking down these hostilities. But it’s also notable that Jesus is hanging around Jacob’s well at midday. Going to the well was women’s work, and it was usually done early in the morning or late in the day to avoid the heat. That this woman would come alone at noon reveals that she’s rejected by her own people. We can consider her doubly rejected, by both Jews and Samaritans.
A person of Jesus’ religious stature would not normally put themselves in such a questionable position. Jesus is male, single, religious, and Jewish, and yet, he’s associating with a Samaritan woman, one whose life is filled with brokenness. I mean, even in our day, someone having gone through five divorces would raise eyebrows, so you can imagine what her life was like 2000 years ago in the Middle East. In their world, men had to petition for divorce, which means five times her husbands left her behind. Rabbis in their day considered two or three divorces as the acceptable limit for women, so she’s far beyond that.
In this window and in this story, Jesus truly sees her. He asks her for a drink, and she’s confused. Jews don’t ask Samaritans for things. Yet, Jesus does, and then he goes further in offering her God’s gift that goes way beyond satisfying thirst. He says, “If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is saying to you, ‘Give me a drink,’ you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water” (John 4:10). In their world, living water referred to water that was moving, like a stream or a spring, but Jesus means more. Gary Burge puts it well. “Living water is life nourished by God”
It’s depicted in our window in the center line moving from the top through this scene and on down to the fish swimming back up towards Jesus. It’s clear that Jesus is the Messiah — the Savior — of the whole world, not just one people group or another, not just of the religious and well-behaved. He’s for all.
But, it’s also interesting — and you can see this in the window where the woman is clearly in deep dialogue with Jesus, her eyes intent on him, her right hand gesturing — it’s interesting that Jesus presents a challenge to her own assumptions. He corrects her belief as a Samaritan. He asserts that salvation comes via the Jews, which is embodied in Jesus right in front of her. He tells her that worship is not bound to a place — to Jerusalem or Mount Gerazim. Worship happens in spirit and truth, and goes to the ends of the earth.
The woman says to Jesus, “I know that Messiah is coming. When he comes, he will proclaim all things to us.” Jesus’ response changes everything. “I am he.” In Greek, ego eimi. It’s the same phrase God speaks to Moses in Exodus 3, when Moses asks the Lord’s name.
What does she do with it? She evangelizes. She runs to all her neighbors, all those who have turned away from her because of her shattered personal life, and she invites them to meet Jesus. “Come and see a man who told me everything I have ever done! He cannot be the Messiah, can he?”
Notice now, how our window and these texts contrast this woman and Nicodemus. He comes at night; she meets Jesus at noon. He’s a Jewish leader; she’s a downtrodden Samaritan. He’s a man; she’s a woman. And in the window, she glows as bright as day, and Nicodemus remains in the shadows. She is open to receiving Jesus, and Nicodemus is not ready yet.
I want to close with this. Notice how in all of these stories, Jesus meets them face-to-face. He truly sees them. He meets them in their stories. How incredible is it that the God who created everything is also intimately available to all? God is not distant and uncaring. God’s right there with us.
But also notice that Jesus sees us and challenges us. Martha is focused on the wrong thing in the moment. Nicodemus is hung up on his understanding that can’t quite grasp Jesus. Peter leaves his nets behind, only to tell Jesus he’s wrong. And this Samaritan woman, beloved daughter of God, faces both her brokenness and her misunderstanding of what God is actually doing.
Jesus is all these things, and they have been foretold, yet we do not always understand him. But here’s the good news: We have the privilege of spending our days learning more about him, letting his life and way challenge ours, and going into the world to share with all who would hear about the difference knowing Jesus makes. It’s hard, sometimes, to be truly seen, but that glaring light is also liberating when we let it in.