Exodus 17 1-7
Psalm 95
Romans 5 1-11
John 4 5-42
Those of you who have taken Psychology
101, and perhaps even some of us who missed that exquisite pleasure,
are well acquainted with Maslow's hierarchy
of needs. Maslow
developed a pyramid to describe the forces shaping animal and human
behavior. The most fundamental needs, at the base of this
pyramid, are physiological and measurable- urges that demand immediate
satisfaction: hunger, thirst, and deficiencies of sleep and sexual
gratification. Once these demands are met, Maslow argued that our
priorities shift to a search for personal and familial safety.
And as we move further up the pyramid, these needs are supplanted by
social factors- a yearning for love, affection and a sense of
belonging. At a still higher level, we find the needs of the ego-
the esteem of others, a sense of self-respect and feelings of
competence and control over one's destiny. At the apex of the
pyramid lies the goal of self-actualization- a sense of growth to
maturity, and an awareness of having realized one's potential.
We could draw many analogies between this pyramid and our maturation as
disciples of Christ. But today, I want to take the pyramid more
literally. Our Old Testament and gospel readings both tell of
people living at the very base of the pyramid- humans confronting the
fundamental demands of hunger and thirst. Exodus, the second book
in the Torah, centres on the rescue of God's chosen people from
Egyptian captivity. The story follows the staged journey toward
the Promised Land. Ten dramatic miracles climax with the Egyptian
chariots foundering in mud-flats that beat the Squamish estuary at low
tide. Now, the Israelites face ten tests of their faith, all
focused near the base of Maslow's pyramid. Supplies of bread have
been exhausted at least once. For a second time, the Israelites
find themselves in the blistering heat of the Sinai desert without even
a trickle of water. The well at the supposed oasis of Rephidim is
hotly contested by other nomadic tribes. Currently, it has run
dry- perhaps a scorched earth policy on the part of Moses'
adversaries. Children and beasts cry out from thirst. The
elders seem ready to impeach, or even to stone their leader for his
incompetence. The Hebrew word translated as "quarrel" (in v. 2)
literally means that the elders have issued a legal challenge to the
authority of Moses. But he argues the people's case must be
brought against God; they are doubting that God can meet their basic
needs in this hostile environment. The two Hebrew names given to
their encampment, Massah and Meribah, also come from words that mean
"test" and "quarrel." The new paradigm of scriptural
interpretation suggests that the Exodus account is very true, even if
it is not very historical. How often we murmur against God when
the going gets tough! Moses brings the elders to a magical "rock
at Horeb" (v. 6), which has somehow followed them around the Sinai
desert. He carries a magic "staff" (v. 5) or wand. In an early
instance of chemical and biological warfare, this wand has already
poisoned the river Nile and caused other forms of mass destruction. Now
there is a further show of divine power. Moses strikes the rock and
draws water from it, emphasizing God's mastery over creation. As the
scribes of Exodus tell the story, God grants the people's request
without rebuke. But in the book of Numbers, Moses is brought into
disfavour with God by what seems the same incident. Perhaps
because he strikes the rock twice rather than once, God denies
Moses entry into the Promised land.
The Psalm is known as the Venite. The first few verses invite us
to come and worship a God who is not only the creator and master of the
universe, but also its saviour and protector. The second half of
the psalm warns that failure to follow God's ways may have dire
consequences for us, just as it did for the Israelites during their
"forty years" (v. 10) in the "wilderness" (v. 8). But our creator
can meet all of our needs, if only we will enter the "rest" of God's
Promised Land (v. 11).
In John's Gospel, the struggle to meet the basic needs of daily life
continues even in the relatively fertile fields of Samaria. Still,
women face the wearisome daily trek to draw water from the communal
well. In the noon-day heat, Jesus is hungry and thirsty. He is on
the long journey from Judea towards Galilee. As his disciples
forage for food in a distant village, the Master sits by Jacob's
well. A woman approaches, swinging her hips and
balancing a
bucket jauntily on her head. Jesus ignores the established
prejudice against people of other faiths, and in particular against
females of doubtful virtue, the sort who chat freely with unknown
men. He asks her for a drink.
The woman is surprised that a Jewish rabbi would speak to someone who
was ritually unclean. Jesus answers her: "If you knew that God can meet
all the needs of those who ask, YOU would be asking for a drink, and I
would give you living water." Like many of us, she misunderstands
what Jesus is saying. She thinks of fresh, bubbly spring
water. According to one legend about Jacob, water sometimes
bubbled to the top of this well, overflowing the parapet. "You
don't have a bucket! I suppose you are looking for such a
miracle?" she asks Jesus. "This water was good enough for
Jacob. Are you saying you're greater than him?" As John
tells it, Jesus contrasts the bubbling well water with "water gushing
up to eternal life" (v. 14). Living water symbolized for
John the gift of the Holy Spirit, received at baptism. The Samaritan
woman still doesn't understand the nature of living water, but it
sounds pretty good, so she asks for it. Jesus then points out
that the eternal satisfaction of her needs depends on her sorting out
some of the sexual hang-ups at the base of her pyramid. And he's
not deflected from this pointed message by any cute discussion about
the best place to worship God. The common ancestors of Jews and
Samaritans had worshipped on Mount Gerizim. Now, the Jews argued
that Jerusalem was the only proper place for worship. But as we
have learned from Marcus Borg, cultic sites and forms of worship are
irrelevant to God. All are valid paths to a common goal.
The time was coming, and indeed had arrived when people would worship
God spiritually, discerning the truth and the life-giving spirit
revealed in Jesus. The woman is so excited about her new insights
that she rushes off to tell her friends, leaving her precious bucket
beside the well.
Meantime, the disciples plod back with their meager gleanings.
They eye their frugal supper hungrily. But Jesus gives them a
similar message. If they obey God, and complete his tasks, this
will offer a food that fills more than their stomachs.
What does our epistle add to today's message? Paul's letter to the
Romans was probably written around 57 AD, as he neared the end of his
third
missionary journey around the Eastern Mediterranean. It was
written to a church that Paul had not yet visited, so he lays out broad
principles of the Christian faith, rather than condemning specific
sins. Like much of Paul's prose, the text does not fit easily
into a brief sermon. One big theme is being "justified," or found
worthy, by faith. Such faith has three consequences.
We find ourselves at peace with God, we become reconciled with our
Creator, and we enjoy the hope of sharing His eternal life.
This, surely, is the self-actualization that Maslow and his followers
are seeking. Through Christ, we have "access to this grace", a
blessed state of harmony. We progress from patient "endurance" under
spiritual duress to a maturity of character, and a certainty of belief
that does not disappoint.
The needs that Maslow described have a powerful influence on
behaviour. Who can deny the impact of food and drink,
shelter, sleep, sexual satisfaction, the approval of others, and a
sense of self-worth? Industrial psychologists frequently exploit
such needs in attempts to boost productivity. The same concepts
underlie most modern merchandising. In Canada, our basic needs
are well met, but still the "hidden persuaders" of Vance Packard urge
us to buy more exotic food, a larger house, a bigger car, and a
thousand relatively useless gadgets in order to increase our social
status or our sense of self-importance. Money is the common
denominator in this quest- we all seek more of it, so that we can claw
our way ruthlessly up the sides of Maslow's pyramid.
But our scriptures today offer an alternative life philosophy-
foolishness to the commercial world, but the true message of
Lent. The key to achieving the self-actualization that crowns the
pyramid lies in the practice of our faith, rather than a combination of
large elbows and limitless funds. The Israelites sometimes lacked
even basic necessities. But concerns about a lack of food and
drink were essentially a test of their faith in the goodness of
God. Christ himself adopted a cavalier attitude towards material
possessions. "If a chap tries to take your sweater, why not give
him your windbreaker as well?" "Why fuss about wearing the latest
eccentricities of fashion? Take a look at the Black Lilies on the
south dyke. They neither toil nor spin, and yet Premier Campbell
in all his glory is not arrayed like one of these." "Watch the
eagles, soaring high over Brackendale. They don't ask for big
yards, so that they can sow and harvest bigger crops. And they
don't overfish to keep the big packing plants humming. Yet God
feeds them." The crowd who
gathered to hear the beatitudes rather
liked these ideas, particularly when 5000 found free food. But
Jesus went on to talk about the challenges that came from eating the
bread of life and drinking living water, and then they quickly
dispersed.
This season of Lent, let us review the forces that yank our
chain. What does our personal want list look like? We can engage
in ruthless competition for status and power, as we seek to impress
ourselves and others, pushing towards the apex of Maslow's
pyramid. Or we can accept the living water- a simpler
lifestyle of generosity and expectant faith. The living water
won't make us rich or famous. But it will bring us peace with our
Creator. And it will carry us onward to what Marcus Borg has
called the "thin places" of our lives, where we begin to see and
understand the very "ground of our being." May we taste this
living water during the Lenten season of 2005.