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Sermon for March 27, 2011 – “Tilting at Windmills”

Text: Exodus 17: 1-7; Romans 5: 1-11; John 4: 5-42

Have you ever tried to do something, and everybody around you told you it was impossible?

Maybe you were trying to change something, and people would say, “You can’t do that.

We’ve never done it that way before. It’s always been done this way!” Maybe you‘ve seen

something wrong taking place somewhere and tried to make it right. Whatever your quest, if

you‘re up against seemingly insurmountable odds, people say you‘re ―tilting at windmills.‖ Or

they call your endeavor ―quixotic‖ – a way of saying you‘re crazy for even trying. These

colorful expressions have become part of our language and come – of course – from Miguel de

Cervantes‘ novel ―Don Quixote‖ and its musical counterpart, ―Man of La Mancha.‖

When I was much younger, my parents took me to see Richard Kiley in the role that he

originated on Broadway. One of the ‗crazy‘ things Don Quixote did was to fall in love with a

local prostitute, Aldonza. He treats her like a lady, and calls her Dulcinea – or ―Sweet One.‖

Her reaction: “Are you crazy? I’m a whore!”

Everyone laughs at the foolish old knight, as he follows his quest – his ―impossible dream.‖

Personally, if someone where to call me Don Quixote, I‘d take it as a compliment. Because,

you see, Don Quixote has a lot in common with Jesus – who tilted at quite a few windmills in

His time, too. Nowhere in the gospels is this better illustrated, than in the story of Jesus and

the Samaritan Woman at the Well.

This meeting took place when Jesus left Judea to go once more back to his native Galilee in

the North of Israel. Between Judea and Galilee lies Samaria. The Samaritans who inhabited

this region were the descendants of Jews who intermarried with the Assyrians who conquered

and occupied the area in the 7th century BC. Thus able to survive the occupation, the

Samaritans didn‘t give up their belief in the God of Abraham, nor did they accept the religion

of their captors. At the same time however – small changes in their faith practices developed

over the years. As a result, a great animosity – hatred actually – developed between the

Samaritans and Jews. When it became necessary to travel back and forth between Judea in the

south and Galilee in the north, Jews avoided Samaria. It meant turning a sixty mile trip into

one of a hundred – but it was worth it to avoid the feared and hated Samaritans.

But not for Jesus.

He refused to follow a trail that fear and hatred had blazed. Leaving Jerusalem, He went due

north – through the heart of Samaria – and within about a mile of Mt. Gerizim, the center of

their worship. It was here, near the village of Sychar, that Jesus sat and rested at Jacob‘s Well

– while his disciples went into town for food. Upon their return, they found Jesus chatting with

the Samaritan woman. This was a shocking defiance of Jewish custom on at least 3 counts

because she was 1) a Samaritan, 2) a woman, and 3) a notorious sinner. By engaging this

Samaritan woman in conversation, Jesus broke through several of the major barriers that

divide humankind to this very day.

The first of these windmills he tilted at was racism.

Because the Samaritans had intermarried, the Jews considered them half-breeds and mongrels.

They weren‘t to be associated with, but feared and despised. Time after time, Jesus told

p0arables where Samaritans were the good guys. But some people still didn‘t get it.

Another barrier Jesus broke was that of fundamentalism.

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The Samaritans worshipped God at Mt. Gerizim – not in the temple in Jerusalem – and they

only used the first five books of the Old Testament in their worship. For that reason, the Jews

called them heretics and excommunicated them. They wouldn‘t eat or drink with them – or use

a cup or bowl that‘d been used by a Samaritan. But Jesus would – asking the woman for a

drink from her cup. Jesus practiced a religion of inclusion – the whole concept of

excommunication is foreign to Him. He told the Samaritan woman that the time was coming,

when it wouldn‘t matter where you worshipped God or with what words. What matters, he

said, is to worship God “in Spirit and in truth.” ―Truth‖ is often defined differently by both

individuals and denominations. But Jesus isn‘t talking about dogma or doctrine – where one

stands on a given position – or even what style of worship one uses. No, what Jesus was

talking about was sincerity.

To worship in spirit and truth means that we‘re not just putting on a show.

To worship in spirit and truth means that that we do so with all our heart, mind, soul and strength –

our very being – from who we are.

Jesus made believers of many of the Samaritans in the town of Sychar – and He accepted them.

He didn‘t ask them to change their worship practice.

He didn‘t ask them to ‗convert‘ to orthodox Judaism.

He didn‘t ask them to travel to Jerusalem to do their worship.

He accepted them as they were, where they were, for who they were.

And they accepted him as the Messiah they had been looking for — a Messiah for Samaritans

as well as for Jews. Jesus was a Messiah for everyone ... and He still is.

Another barrier transcended by Jesus that day was that of nationalism, or tribalism.

The Jews hated the Samaritans not only because they were half-breeds and heretics, but also

because they were traitors. They had, after all, accommodated an enemy some 700 centuries

earlier, and such transgressions are not easily forgotten. These ―isms‖ are – of course – still

with us. And if race or religion doesn‘t provide a reason for hatred – there‘s the third ―R‖ of

warfare – real estate. Whether it‘s the Hutus and Tutsis in Rwanda – or the Serbs and

Albanians in Kosovo – tribalism is still one of the death-dealing sins of which Jesus tried so

hard to rid us.

Yes, the Jews hated the Samaritans. By the same token, the Samaritans were not overly fond

of the Jews. When the Samaritans built a temple to God on Mt. Gerizim in 400 BC, Jews came

and destroyed it. Is it any wonder that the Samaritan woman was astounded when Jesus,

a Jewish man, asked her for a drink of water? John explained her reaction to his readers by

saying “for Jews do not associate with Samaritans.” But Jesus walked through this barrier

as if it didn‘t exist...because in his mind it didn’t. When he looked at the woman, he didn‘t see

an inferior person. He saw a person made in the image of God. He saw someone with inherent

worth, intrinsic value – and for that reason she mattered to Him.

We can be racists and bigots or Christians – but not both.

As Paul wrote, “There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is

no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus. And if you belong to

Christ, then you are Abraham’s offspring, heirs according to the promise.”

Another barrier Jesus broke through was sexism or gender bias.

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When the disciples returned to the well and saw Jesus talking to the woman, their reaction was

surprise bordering on shock. They couldn‘t believe it. Back then; this kind of thing was simply

not done – because women were second-class citizens. A man wouldn‘t be seen talking to a

woman in public – especially a strange woman. But all this meant nothing to Jesus. He openly

conversed in public with women. He welcomed them into His inner circle of followers.

Yet another windmill at which Jesus tilted that day (as on many others) was judgmentalism,

an arrogant rejection of ―sinners.‖

Most women came to draw water early in the morning or late in the evening when it was cool.

It was a social occasion when they visited with neighbors and friends. But this woman came at

around noon, in the heat of the day, a time when she was sure to be alone. She may have done

this because of her sordid reputation. Behind her was a trail of five failed marriages, and at

present she was living with a man who was not her husband. Everyone knew about her and

treated her accordingly. So she learned to avoid rejection, by avoiding other women.

But moral barriers meant nothing to Jesus.

He treated this woman with the same respect that He would his own mother.

He treated this woman with the same dignity with which Don Quixote treated Aldonza.

It wasn‘t that Jesus was unaware of her reputation. He simply refused to single her out from

the rest of humanity for condemnation. (Indeed, he singled her out to carry His message – to

be His evangelist – to all in her village.) If there was any one thing for which Jesus was

continually getting in trouble with the Pharisees, it was consorting with sinners.

He ate and drank with tax collectors!

He even called one – Matthew – as a disciple!

He let prostitutes anoint His feet with oil!

He dined with Zacchaeus!

And here He was again, sharing a cup and discussing religion with a woman whose reputation

as a tramp was so bad that other women wouldn‘t associate with her. What‘s more, it‘s to her

that He first reveals Himself as the Messiah. This is the only instance in Scripture where Jesus

openly says who He is before His trial in Jerusalem – and He knew what she was.

In light of this, how can we possibly be judgmental toward anyone?

Shouldn‘t we set the moral standard bar high for ourselves and try to live that way?

Might we want to be mindful of the fact that we too are sinners in need of God‘s love and

mercy and forgiveness – and that we should we never – ever – feel superior to someone else?

Unfortunately, all the “isms” that Jesus confronts in our gospel reading this morning still exist

today – sadly, even among Christians. But because of the example of Jesus with the woman at

the well, we can say with certainty that they are not in accord with the mind of Christ. Perhaps

then as part of our Lenten journey – to the extent that we continue to embrace any of them –

we should look for ways to be rid of them. But not just for Lent – how about once and for all?

And inasmuch as it is in our power to do so – we should attempt to root them out from our

family, our society, and our church.

An impossible dream?

Tilting at windmills?

A foolish quixotic quest?

Maybe.

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But let‘s remember Don Quixote. His love for Aldonza was an impossible fantasy of a foolish

old man, wasted on an unworthy woman. But he loved Aldonza with a pure unselfish love,

seeking nothing from her but to serve her. And when he died, Aldonza was at his side,

weeping. She stood up for him, having at last accepted his love for her. And after his death,

she serenely announced, ―My name is Dulcinea.‖

She had been redeemed and made pure by his love. Just like the woman at the well was

redeemed and made pure by the unselfish, unmerited love of Christ.

Just as we are.

In his death, Don Quixote was victorious in his quest to save the fair Dulcinea – in that

through it she understood and accepted his love. Likewise – through His death – Jesus

triumphs in His quest to save us, in that through it we see and accept His love. Jesus didn‘t die

because of a vengeful God – or because of the Jews, or because of the Romans.

Jesus died because of His love for us – all of us. And through His meeting with the woman at

the well, Jesus shows us just how high, how deep and how wide that love is – for all people,

including sinners – especially sinners.

Now, let‘s break down some barriers of our own this Lent.

Let‘s tilt at some windmills.

Let‘s – as the song suggests – dream the impossible dream.

Let‘s fight the unbeatable foe.

Let‘s run where the brave dare not go.

Let‘s fight for the right without question or pause.

Let‘s be willing to march into Hell for a heavenly cause.

But above all, let‘s hope.

Because God is at our side.

And with God…

…no foe is unbeatable

…there is no place we dare not go

…no dream is impossible

Because with God, all things are possible.

Thanks be to God. Amen.