The First Documented Fool For Christ

It took me a while to find it, but Yes. I have blogged on this woman before. After that ink had dried, I didn't anticipate having more to say about this delightful soul, but here we are again.

John 4:28-30
Then, leaving her water jar, the woman went back to the town and said to the people, “Come, see a man who told me everything I ever did. Could this be the Messiah?” They came out of the town and made their way toward him.

These verses follow on the heels of a conversation Jesus initiated with a Samaritan woman at a well. He met her there at mid-day. She came alone to draw water at the hottest (worst) time of the day. Why? Because she was the town slut. Respectable women came together during the more temperate morning hours. Jesus isn't a local, so he shouldn't know anything about her history. Except that he does.

John 4:16-18
He told her, “Go, call your husband and come back.”
“I have no husband,” she replied.
Jesus said to her, “You are right when you say you have no husband. The fact is, you have had five husbands, and the man you now have is not your husband. What you have just said is quite true.”

In the prior blog I focused on the reversal of gender roles. With Jesus' invitation, she ably performed work appropriate to a (male?) minister. And she did it while the other twelve disciples (yes, the men) went about a woman's work. All they ever brought back from that village was groceries. She went to the same village and returned to Jesus with people. (This passage is good fodder for the argument that missions work is best done by locals!)

At any rate, I concluded then that this woman was the first documented ordained female minister of Christ. No mean feat. However, it dawned on me today that this woman has yet another title to claim. She's also the first documented "Fool For Christ".

“Come, see a man who told me everything I ever did."

Didn't we just say that this woman was the town slut? Didn't Jesus point out how many husbands (let alone lovers) she'd gone through? If we were to tally a list of all the things she had done, it would not be family friendly material! I don't think this point needs further explanation.

A digression with a purpose: they say Middle School is the hardest phase in childhood. We called it Junior High in my day, but both phrases mean the same thing in Latin: Hell. In those days, when I had news of interest I sometimes hoped that sharing it would improve my situation. It did not. Being the bearer of interesting news never changed my status. The news was valued, but the medium (read, me) was not.

That, friends, is how I've always met this story, emotionally speaking. When the woman at the well went back to town, in my mind's eye I could well envision her delivering the interesting news—and also how it was received. Would it change how people viewed her? Nah. They'd be curious to meet the prophet, but you can almost see the woman falling out of the camera's frame of reference as the men hurry out to the well.

But I see more clearly today how that telling of the story misses the mark. On two counts.

For starters, when I was a lonely child hoping to improve my social status, the news I shared never involved me, much less my own poor reputation. The whole point was to draw attention away from everything that exposed me as a loser. But this woman? She dove headlong into the worst parts of her life. "He told me everything I ever did." This woman was not acting like my Junior High self.

Furthermore, the villagers for their part were not behaving like my classmates of old, either. They didn't respond to the woman as my fellow classmates did to me. The news I shared back then never bought me respect or friendship. It never worked that way. But these villagers? Before it was over they clearly saw this woman in a new and different light.

John 4:42
They said to the woman, “We no longer believe just because of what you said; now we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this man really is the Savior of the world.”

That is peer-to-peer communication of the sort I doubt this woman had heard in a while. To put it another way, notice that the news has been repeated back to the medium. That only happens when the medium has value. In this case, the medium is the village slut. Or was. Yes, in the presence of Jesus all the folks in that town became equals—mortals in need of a savior. Co-recipients of a priceless treasure.

Is this woman the first documented Fool For Christ? Yes, I think she is, but I now find myself moving past the initial humor in that assertion. There's heavy material here. The more I compare her actions to my puerile efforts to gain friend in an equally tight and small village called Junior High, I am struck in a sobering way by the parallels and contrasts.

Try to bring news so as to improve your reputation? Good luck with that. Let me know how that works out for you.

Throw your reputation to the wind in order to bring no-strings-attached good news? Now you've got people's attention—and among the wiser ones you'll have gained respect as well.

This is yet another ironic case of seeking the Kingdom first, only to discover in hindsight that other good things we wanted—and failed to acquire on our own—come with the package. The irony is not that it happens that way. Jesus said that it would. The irony is that we don't follow Jesus' advice more often.

Hats off to the woman who forgot herself while heaping honors upon Jesus. She's a hard act to follow. But we really should try.

When I reach eternity, dear woman, please do me a favor and find me out. I'd like to shake your hand. And maybe you could introduce me to Jesus, too? I'd like that.