NRS John 4:1 Now when Jesus learned that the Pharisees had heard, "Jesus is making and baptizing more disciples than John" 2 -- although it was not Jesus himself but his disciples who baptized-- 3 he left Judea and started back to Galilee. 4 But he had to go through Samaria.
5 So he came to a Samaritan city called Sychar, near the plot of ground that Jacob had given to his son Joseph. 6 Jacob's well was there, and Jesus, tired out by his journey, was sitting by the well. It was about noon.
7 A Samaritan woman came to draw water, and Jesus said to her, "Give me a drink."
8 (His disciples had gone to the city to buy food.) 9 The Samaritan woman said to him, "How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?" (Jews do not share things in common with Samaritans.) 10 Jesus answered her, "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."
11 The woman said to him, "Sir, you have no bucket, and the well is deep. Where do you get that living water? 12 Are you greater than our ancestor Jacob, who gave us the well, and with his sons and his flocks drank from it?" 13 Jesus said to her, "Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, 14 but those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty. The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life."
15 The woman said to him, "Sir, give me this water, so that I may never be thirsty or have to keep coming here to draw water." 16 Jesus said to her, "Go, call your husband, and come back." 17 The woman answered him, "I have no husband." Jesus said to her, "You are right in saying, 'I have no husband'; 18 for you have had five husbands, and the one you have now is not your husband. What you have said is true!" 19 The woman said to him, "Sir, I see that you are a prophet. 20 Our ancestors worshiped on this mountain, but you say that the place where people must worship is in Jerusalem." 21 Jesus said to her, "Woman, believe me, the hour is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem. 22 You worship what you do not know; we worship what we know, for salvation is from the Jews. 23 But the hour is coming, and is now here, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for the Father seeks such as these to worship him. 24 God is spirit, and those who worship him must worship in spirit and truth." 25 The woman said to him, "I know that Messiah is coming" (who is called Christ). "When he comes, he will proclaim all things to us." 26 Jesus said to her, "I am he, the one who is speaking to you."
27 Just then his disciples came. They were astonished that he was speaking with a woman, but no one said, "What do you want?" or, "Why are you speaking with her?" 28 Then the woman left her water jar and went back to the city. She said to the people, 29 "Come and see a man who told me everything I have ever done! He cannot be the Messiah, can he?" 30 They left the city and were on their way to him.

Lois Thorson was a member at Faith Lutheran Church in Dickinson, and for some 20+ years it was my pleasure and privilege to work beside her. She served several terms on the church council, directed the choir for a couple of seasons, and worked on a variety of committees and group projects. Lois loved Jesus, her church, her family, and I'm proud to say, she loved me, too. She was one of those people who could lift you up when you were down, and many times I felt more like her son than her pastor. When Lois was diagnosed with the disease that would ultimately overwhelm her body, I did my best to walk alongside her as a pastor and fellow pilgrim who would, by Christ's grace, one day join her in our Father's heavenly mansion.

In many ways and on many levels, Lois was a great friend to me, and I hope I was to her as well. But there was this one little thing where Lois and I didn't exactly mesh. Lois was what Jerry Seinfeld might call a slow-talker. Unlike me, she typically thought about what she was going to say before she said it, and when she did speak, she did so very quietly and very gently, often interspersing her words with long ----- pauses.

For all the years I knew Lois, visited with her, worked and worshipped with her and shared with her in many, many different church and family celebrations, I never quite got used to her conversational pace. I was constantly stepping on the end of her sentences. Even when I was sure that she'd finished speaking, I would still manage to blurt something out just before she'd completed her thought. Lois would smile, but I'd get very embarrassed and apologize profusely, only to do it again not two minutes later. If ever I deluded myself into thinking that I was in any way, shape, or form a patient human being, a visit with Lois would quickly disabuse me.

There's an old James Taylor song ("Traffic Jam") with the line, "It hurts my motor to go so slow." Ain't it the truth, and in more ways than one. The English word "patient" comes from the Latin "patior," that comes from the Greek "pascw," meaning to suffer. The New Testament Greek word for patience is actually "makroqumi,a," which translates literally as long-suffering. To be patient is to wait, and to wait is always to suffer. Whether you're waiting on someone to finish their sentence, or waiting for the lab report to come back to the doctor, or waiting for the bell to ring on a Friday afternoon, waiting is hard. Waiting means you have to hold your horses. It means you have to put the brakes on your agenda. It means you have to (ouch!) listen first, then talk. Even when you already know what someone is going to say, even when you can finish the person's sentence well before it's completely out of their mouth, to be patient is to wait for the right time and only then speak.

In tonight's Gospel the Evangelist John introduces us to one of the most memorable people in the whole New Testament. We don't know her name, except as the Samaritan woman at the well, but according to John's brief portrait, she's obviously something of a character. In her conversation with Jesus, she's very quick and witty. She's clearly a talker, but given that she comes to the well at midday, while most women of that day would collect their daily water early in the morning, it's likely that there's also something going on beneath that glib exterior. Maybe that's why Jesus took the extraordinary step of addressing her directly, "Give me a drink." The conversation that ensues goes all over the place, from Jewish-Samaritan relations, to the nature of living water, her prior marriages, the role of the Jerusalem Temple, and the identity of the Messiah. But the really amazing thing to me is how Jesus lets the conversation unfold. He doesn't rush. He doesn't cut to the chase and immediately proceed to the bottom line. He listens, he lets the woman talk, and even as she jumps from topic to topic, he follows along. He's patient, he waits for the right time to speak, and when he speaks, the woman is ready to hear the great mystery of Jesus unveiled.

I guess it was four or five years ago I was on a retreat when I read in a book by John Ortberg that hurriedness is the single greatest enemy of the spiritual life. Which I suppose makes patience the single greatest gift that we can give to anyone. To take the time to listen, to take our foot off the accelerator and just be for another person, without rushing, without looking at your watch, with your heart, mind, and ears open. That's what Jesus gave the woman at the well. That's what Jesus gives us. Is there any better Christmas gift?
In the Name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.