Primed for Violence

Based on John 4:5-42 - Jesus and the Samaritan Woman at the Well | Third Week of Lent

Last week we were talking about snakes — about having to take a direct look at what’s killing us in order to live. Remember that story from the Hebrew scriptures? The people look at the bronze serpent. Jesus connects that story to himself in conversation with Nicodemus. If we want to live, we have to look honestly at what is killing us and collaborate with God in the work of healing.

But this week we have something that seems almost opposite: an unnamed woman (what is it with the unnamed women in these books?) meeting Jesus in broad daylight. No obtuse questions from her.

So here’s a thought experiment: Take a moment to think about this scene and ask yourself: where do violent, authoritarian images of God show up in it? They might not appear directly in the text. Sometimes they show up in the assumptions we bring with us when we read.

For generations this story has often been preached as if Jesus is exposing a sinful woman. But the text never actually says that. That interpretation has been layered onto the story.

And there… you can already see our interpretive habits at work.

In reality, a woman having had five husbands and now living with someone who is not her husband likely reflects systemic vulnerability in the ancient world. It could point to widowhood and being passed off to brothers or other family members. To divorces entirely out of her control. These are social structures she would not have had much if any say in, in most cases.

There is another possibility as well, this one literary:
After Assyria conquered Samaria, several foreign groups were resettled there. Each group brought its own religious traditions. Jewish writers sometimes described Samaria as having five religious “husbands.”

If that is the case, Jesus may be speaking in the language of religious history rather than personal scandal.
Notice what happens next. The woman immediately begins discussing theology. She is not being shamed. She is a capable, sharp theologian participating in a serious theological conversation with another capable, sharp theologian.

Now, we often hear that Jews and Samaritans did not associate with one another. But that leaves out some very important details.

Samaritans were not strangers to Jews. They shared ancestry. Both communities came from the traditions of Israel. The division emerged when returning Judeans rejected those Jews who had remained in Samaria and intermarried with non-Jews.

Womp-womp-womp. We're just mad over something that looks like issues of purity.

Turns out they are not actually strangers at all. This is less like two unrelated groups avoiding one another and more like a very old family feud — the kind where everyone still knows plenty about everyone else and probably talks more than they would like to admit.

Which helps explain why the woman immediately asks Jesus a theological question:
Which mountain is the right place to worship, Mr. Jewish Jesus Smarty Pants? Mine, which was also probably one of yours (ancestrally speaking) at one point? Or yours, which was also mine (ancestrally speaking) at one point? It is theological hair-splitting. And she probably knows it.

Jesus gives her a straightforward answer: neither. The location does not ultimately matter. Worship is not about geography. And apparently she finds something compelling in that answer, because she runs to tell others about what she has just experienced.

Now here is where something fascinating happens. Did you know that authoritarian, violent images of God literally prime our brains and bodies for violence?

As in, literally. Dr. Andrew Newberg’s research shows that when people encounter authoritarian or violent narratives about God, fMRI scans show brain activity in regions associated with threat and aggression.

In other words, the stories we tell about God shape how our bodies prepare to respond to the world.

Which makes it worth noticing something: Many of the assumptions we bring to this story are not actually written into the text. They have been added through interpretation, tradition, and sometimes translation.

So ask yourself: what kinds of images of God have shaped those interpretations? How often have we inherited stories about God that assume shame, punishment, domination, or exclusion — even when the text itself does not necessarily say those things?

When those interpretations go unexamined, they train our bodies to live in a posture of fear and violent response rather than empathy, care, and love — the very things that make relationship and communion possible.

And that becomes a real problem for us as baptized Christians.

Because if empathy, justice, equity, and love are suppressed in favor of violence, suddenly we are all about the name of Jesus but not the way of Jesus. Those authoritarian stories about God are doing more than distorting the text. They actively block the kingdom of heaven from coming near.

Just think about that for a moment.

Last week we talked about those snakes in the wilderness and the bronze serpent. The people had to look honestly at what was killing them in order to live. Jesus connects that story to the cross. If we want life, we must look honestly at the individual and systemic realities of what put him there.

This week we are invited to look even more closely — at the interpretations and narratives that may be keeping violence alive in our own traditions.

But the story also shows us something beautiful. Two people meet and instead of variations on domination, they choose dialogue, honesty, respect, care and dignity. Maybe even a little humor. And that is exactly the environment where what Jesus calls living water begins to flow.

There is also a subtle literary echo here, too. In Hebrew scripture, wells are often places where relationships begin.

Rebecca meets Isaac’s servant at a well. Rachel meets Jacob at a well. Zipporah meets Moses at a well.
Wells are meeting places where something new starts.

So while this meeting between Jesus and the Samaritan woman is probably not a romantic one, it is still the beginning of a new relationship — one grounded in equality, respect, curiosity, and care, maybe even some good quality teasing and laughter. And from there it spreads quickly from two people outward into an entire community.

Violent images of God spread quickly too.

But they shut down empathy. They make connection and meaningful relationship nearly impossible. They keep people divided in ways that serve oppressive systems rather than the flourishing of human community.
It is actually a remarkably effective strategy for taking over a powerful tradition: infect it with authoritarian and violent imagery and watch everything disintegrate from there.

Which means we have work to do: We need to notice when violent images of God appear and actively dismantle them. We need to remind one another that the stories we tell about God shape the way we live in the world.

And if violent images of God prime us for violence, then truthful images of God must train us for something else entirely.

Empathy. Justice. Equity. Accountability. Peace. Love.
Which is exactly the command Jesus leaves with us: Love one another as I have loved you.

with joy,
Pr. Sam

Copious amounts of this reflection have been informed and inspired by the work of Dr. Andrew Newberg  (most especially his work around violent images of God and what happens in human brains), as well as this particular Rethinking Faith podcast with Dr. Shaleen Kenrick.