A Spring of Water

My Sunday reflection quite literally springs from the garden courtyard of the Chester Cathedral. Encircled by the towering thousand-year old cathedral, the garden is a lush and beautiful place. It invites quiet reflection. At the center of the garden a sculpture draws your attention:

Around the base of the sculpture are etched the words from John’s gospel: The water that I give will become a spring of water always welling up to eternal life. The artist, Stephen Broadbent, explains

The water supply in the garden was pumped by monks to the Abbey and drawn for centuries from an ancient well: this led to the theme of the sculpture.

The woman’s encounter with Jesus transforms her life.

The sculpture portrays her being joined and springing out of Him signifying new life . . . shame is fallen away . . . she is reconciled to her community.

At first, the sculpture seems out of place. After all, the cathedral is a very old building, holding a history that dates to the 11th century, built on the site of an even older church that honored St. Werburgha. How does a contemporary sculpture ‘fit’ in that?

Then it becomes so obvious to me . . . this story of Jesus’ encounter with the Samaritan woman was all about doing the thing that didn’t fit, saying the thing that didn’t make sense in the culture in which it was spoken. And it begs the question . . . does it ever make sense? Is that the point? The ‘Jesus message’ has always been out of place, if we take it to heart. And it will transform. It even now transforms a medieval courtyard in Chester.

The part of the sculpture that a picture does not capture is the sound of the water . . . it is indeed a fountain and the sound of running water is part of the experience in that courtyard.

I have come that you may have life and have it in abundance!

The message of Jesus is a timeless one that challenges our most firmly held beliefs and prejudices. And no where was that more evident than in the cloister garden in Chester, UK as the sound of running water summons attention to an encounter between Jesus and a woman whose tattered life was transformed. It was an awkward moment that became a blessing for her and for all who heard of it. (Remember, she became the first preacher of the good news!)

I think the initial sense of the out-of-place-ness of the sculpture in the ancient garden is part of its power. Nothing – not old structures, or old prejudices, or worn out rituals, or firmly held beliefs or tired hopes or hopeful visions – are beyond the power of Jesus to transform and make new. That’s good news for all of us who see what is possible and wonder how to get there. Or those of us who have lost the vision entirely. And everyone in between.