Where the Water Flows
Read John 7.
Festivals are meant to help us remember some great past event, or to celebrate something unique about our community. Every community, small and large, seems to have a festival that it calls its own, celebrating an historical figure, an agricultural product, or a time in the year. Judaism was no different, except that for their festivals there was always a religious overtone. The Jewish festivals were meant to remind people what God had done.
In John 7, it's September, the time of the harvest, and the people have gathered for one of the great festivals of their faith: the Feast of Tabernacles. This was a time when the children of Israel remembered the wilderness wanderings (cf. Exodus through Deuteronomy), the time centuries before when they spent forty years in the desert living in tents. Part of the celebration was to build a small "booth" or shack in which to live for these days, as a way of identifying with those past brothers and sisters. Because of this tradition, sometimes this festival was known as the Festival of the Booths.
There were certainly observances all throughout the festival, but the final day was the best, the high point of the celebration. On that day, the priest would take a golden pitcher and while the people sang the psalms, they would process down to the Pool of Siloam, fill the pitcher, then process back up the hill to the Temple. As the music swelled, the priest would hold high the pitcher, cry out the words of the prophet ("With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation!") and pour out the water. It was a dramatic moment, and it was meant to remind the people of Moses striking the rock in the wilderness, causing the water to flow out for the people.
This was the "last and greatest day" of the Feast. It was a highlight for the people, reminding them of God's provision and salvation. And it's that moment which Jesus chooses to interrupt. Just at that moment, when the "water of salvation" is being poured out by the priest, Jesus calls out from the Temple courts, "Let anyone who is thirsty come to me and drink" (7:37). He could not have picked a more controversial time to interrupt. He's as much as saying, "The old system is dead. You will not find life there. You will only find life when you follow me." Earlier, you may remember, he had offered living water to a broken woman sitting by a Samaritan well. Now, he offers that same water to the crowds who have been looking for hope and salvation in the rituals and the law of the past.
His offer causes controversy. Immediately, people are thrown into confusion as to who Jesus is and what it is that he's offering. Ironically, that offer still causes controversy. Who is he and what sort of water is he offering? If we drink from his "water," what will happen to us? These are the questions—and the fears—that keep us from fully immersing ourselves in the water of life.
It's like this: when I get into a pool, it's usually colder than I like. Now, I'm not a swimmer, so just jumping into the pool's deep end is out of the question. I wade in, taking it slowly. But there comes that moment when I have to make up my mind: do I get back out or do I just dunk myself in and get used to the water? That's where Jesus is with the people in this section of John: are you going to get "all in" with me, or are you going to run away, get out (like people in the previous chapter did)?
He still asks us. What will you do? Are you ready to be "all in"?
Festivals are meant to help us remember some great past event, or to celebrate something unique about our community. Every community, small and large, seems to have a festival that it calls its own, celebrating an historical figure, an agricultural product, or a time in the year. Judaism was no different, except that for their festivals there was always a religious overtone. The Jewish festivals were meant to remind people what God had done.
In John 7, it's September, the time of the harvest, and the people have gathered for one of the great festivals of their faith: the Feast of Tabernacles. This was a time when the children of Israel remembered the wilderness wanderings (cf. Exodus through Deuteronomy), the time centuries before when they spent forty years in the desert living in tents. Part of the celebration was to build a small "booth" or shack in which to live for these days, as a way of identifying with those past brothers and sisters. Because of this tradition, sometimes this festival was known as the Festival of the Booths.
There were certainly observances all throughout the festival, but the final day was the best, the high point of the celebration. On that day, the priest would take a golden pitcher and while the people sang the psalms, they would process down to the Pool of Siloam, fill the pitcher, then process back up the hill to the Temple. As the music swelled, the priest would hold high the pitcher, cry out the words of the prophet ("With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation!") and pour out the water. It was a dramatic moment, and it was meant to remind the people of Moses striking the rock in the wilderness, causing the water to flow out for the people.
This was the "last and greatest day" of the Feast. It was a highlight for the people, reminding them of God's provision and salvation. And it's that moment which Jesus chooses to interrupt. Just at that moment, when the "water of salvation" is being poured out by the priest, Jesus calls out from the Temple courts, "Let anyone who is thirsty come to me and drink" (7:37). He could not have picked a more controversial time to interrupt. He's as much as saying, "The old system is dead. You will not find life there. You will only find life when you follow me." Earlier, you may remember, he had offered living water to a broken woman sitting by a Samaritan well. Now, he offers that same water to the crowds who have been looking for hope and salvation in the rituals and the law of the past.
His offer causes controversy. Immediately, people are thrown into confusion as to who Jesus is and what it is that he's offering. Ironically, that offer still causes controversy. Who is he and what sort of water is he offering? If we drink from his "water," what will happen to us? These are the questions—and the fears—that keep us from fully immersing ourselves in the water of life.
It's like this: when I get into a pool, it's usually colder than I like. Now, I'm not a swimmer, so just jumping into the pool's deep end is out of the question. I wade in, taking it slowly. But there comes that moment when I have to make up my mind: do I get back out or do I just dunk myself in and get used to the water? That's where Jesus is with the people in this section of John: are you going to get "all in" with me, or are you going to run away, get out (like people in the previous chapter did)?
He still asks us. What will you do? Are you ready to be "all in"?
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