Bride of Christ

A worn-out castaway woman, burdened by too much and too little tries to argue theology with God. Then, in one brief sentence, He answers the deepest longing of her heart, "I, who speak to you, am He." I am right here, standing in front of you, the Messiah of your dreams; the vague someday-One whom you all hope for; right here, right now; Me.” To this woman of Jacob's well, He revealed for the first time His messiahship. This nameless Samaritan was favored by His most direct revelation of Himself: “I, who speak unto you am He.” He didn’t play word games with her as He did with the Pharisees. He didn’t use parables as He did with His disciples and the crowds. He spoke directly and clearly with her and acknowledged her seeking heart. The three-dimensional stories of the Bible are mostly about men: Noah, Abraham, Joseph, David, Solomon, Elijah. But the color and nuance of the stories, woven against the rough woof of testosterone-driven action, are the gentle, insightful stories of women. Sarah, Rebekah, Ruth, Hannah, Bathsheba, the several Marys of the gospels, the women around the cross, the women first up to attend to the duties of burial, the first to see Him risen, the first to bring the great good news. Others, nameless but not forgotten, cross the stage of Jesus’ life in brief cameo appearances: The woman who touched the hem of His robe and was healed, the Syro-Phoenician woman, the woman caught in adultery. These were not the wives of priests or rulers; of generals or kings. They were not the upstanding moral women of the town. They were the looked-down-upon; the pull-your-robe-closer-so-as-not-to-touch women; the ignore-and-pass-by-on-the-other-side-of-the-street women. Their shadows were avoided. They were spat upon, degraded and humiliated by the moral majority. But Jesus seemed to delight in finding and delivering more of the kingdom to them than to the Pharisees and His own disciples. Their hearts were won by His words, His tender acts to their children; His recognition of their value; His confidence in them. He recognized the strength hidden behind the physical frailty. He acknowledged their awareness of His heart. Each, in her own way, is a facet, a partial symbol of His church: His Bride. I puzzle over how to know the Church in this most significant analogy. It is not discoverable by theological wrestlings; by reason; by intellect; not even by experience-for I am a man, not a woman. So, my sisters in the Church, I ask you to teach us, to show us men that part of the Church which we cannot know. It is only in this way that we will ever hope to understand that which you know so very well simply by living the life of a woman. 1 21 09