The Earliest Christian Wonder

“His disciples marvelled that He talked with a woman,” — John iv. 27.

Christianity is the only faith which has found a place for woman. India consigned her to the zenanas; it had no sphere for her amid its castes. It had a sphere for the clergyman, a sphere for the military man, a sphere for the man of commerce; but it never said to the woman, “I go to prepare a place for you.” Greece had no mansion for her. Its mansions were for the men of physical prowess; it crowned the sons of battle and the heroes of fame. Judah had no mission for her. It had patriarchs for the family; it had kings for the nation; it had priests for the sanctuary; it had lawyers for the forum; it had masters for the school; it had profits for the individual soul. But it had no province for the woman. It is no wonder that the disciples marvelled at Christianity. It is the earliest marvel at Christianity ever recorded. The little band of Christ’s followers had seen the wonders of Jordan, the wonders of Cana, the wonders of the cleansed temple; but I do not read that they marvelled. They expected great things of Christ. But they did not expect small things of Christ; and here they found what seemed a small thing. Their wonder was at the Christ stooping. They saw the new religion do what no old religion had ever done — reveal itself to those deemed the weak ones of creation. Woman was the creature of emotion, and all emotion was held weak. Desire was esteemed a thing to be crucified before approaching God. The Brahman crucified it by sacrifice; the Buddhist crucified it by will; the Greek crucified it by stoicism; the Jew crucified it by the exclusive contemplation of law. But the woman cried out for a response to her love. It was a voice crying in the wilderness — crying alone. The world laughed and jeered — but the voice cried still. A hundred altars proclaimed, Ye who worship, extinguish your desires!” — but the voice cried still. Derision could not drown it; contempt could not conquer it; solitude could not silence it — it filled the air with its plaints for replenishment. And then Christ came. He met Woman at the well. She had wandered thither through many lands. She had thirsted by the Ganges, she had been parched in the streets of Athens, she had panted even on the banks of 189

Jordan; but she was refreshed at last beside Samaria’s well.

Lord, Thy disciples will no more marvel at this unique communion. We have learned now that it was the thing religion waited for. We all despised feeling; we thought that the worshipper should empty his heart before offering it to Thee. And so we crushed out emotion and the womanhood that represented it. We put our sister in the zenanas; we treated her as a fallen thing. She had too much of the human and we wanted our religion to “get rid” of hum:’nity. But in the fulness of time Thou camest — with a human soul thirsting for human love. Thou camest, and we heard the cry, “Give Me to drink!” Could an impoverished heart answer that cry? Could a heart that had emptied out its feeling respond to Thy prayer for human love? No; only the feminine nature which we had crucified could do that. We had to fall back upon our lost spirit of womanhood. We had to open the zenanas and set our sister free. Nay, we had to make the sister our type for evermore. It is always a woman’s heart that must now meet Thee at the well. No more with mutilated bodies do we come; we leave that to India. No more with suppressed feelings draw we near; we leave that to Greece. No more I go with religious fasting do we approach; we leave that to Judah. We bring Thee all our beauty. We give Thee all our gold. We send Thee all our sunshine. We bring our pain to Thy passion, our rapture to Thy rising, our transport to Thy triumph. We trim our lamps to meet Thee; we strew our flowers to greet Thee; we tune our voices to entreat Thee. It is with the gush of a woman’s soul we salute Thee at the well.