IN THE journey of life and leadership, defining moments can awaken our leadership potential in unforeseen and extraordinary ways. Becoming convinced of the value of our personal contribution is one of them, and it is not incidental that this theme particularly resonates with women leaders from underrepresented groups. Extensive research indicates that becoming a leader involves much more than developing a skill set, adjusting our styles to fit the specific needs of a particular job, or simply occupying a leadership position.
Instead, becoming a leader involves a far more fundamental shift of identity than the mere giving of a title suggests. Something specific must happen to support our motivation to lead and give us a sense of ourselves as leaders. This something is sometimes referred to as “leader identity”. It is considered a critical component for aspiring leaders, especially for women and underrepresented groups.
Leader identity recognises that we do not become leaders in a social vacuum. Leadership develops not only when we take purposeful action but also when those around us validate or resist it. Their verbal and non-verbal reactions convey whether they perceive us as leaders. Something as simple as being noticed, paid attention to, or being seen and championed can significantly contribute to our perception of ourselves as leaders and influence our willingness to take further leader-like actions. Leader identity evolves each time actions viewed as leadership receive affirmation from significant individuals. It is an iterative process.
To put it simply, “Such affirmation gives the person the fortitude to step outside a comfort zone and experiment with unfamiliar behaviours and new ways of exercising leadership. An absence of affirmation, however, diminishes self-confidence and discourages him or her from seeking developmental opportunities or experimenting.”
Ash CarrKate Coleman
Yet even today, leader identity is more likely to be assumed in men, often irrespective of any real supporting evidence. Women, however, have a long history of being persistently denied the recognition and validation so often accorded to their male counterparts, even when they undertake the same actions or display similar leadership qualities. This is often painfully obvious within churches and other contexts, where male leadership has become normalised over time. But in John 4.7, Jesus said to the woman at the well, “Will you give me a drink?” It is, of course, her response that sheds light on the groundbreaking nature of Jesus’s request: “‘You are a Jew and I am a Samaritan woman. How can you ask me for a drink?’ (For Jews do not associate with Samaritans)” (John 4.9).
Given the historical background, the circumstances of this particular interaction, and Jesus’s evident passion for engaging with those in the margins, we should not be entirely surprised that the Holy Spirit chooses to introduce the Samaritan woman to the biblical story in this way and at this time. Far from being presented in the posture of a petitioner seeking Jewish help (which a Samaritan might not readily accept anyway), she is initially presented as an outsider capable of contributing to the well-being of a fatigued, depleted, and very Jewish Jesus!
WE OFTEN focus on what Jesus offers the woman: the promise of living water. Yet, as important as this is, it’s crucial not to overlook Jesus’s apparent determination to disrupt the prevailing power dynamics and gender relations that existed between the Jewish and Samaritan communities at what was to be a critical moment in their shared history. The conversation doesn’t begin with Jesus showcasing his ability to offer life-altering water or perform miracles. Instead, it begins with Jesus’s request for the woman’s help and, by implication, his recognition of her value to God and her agency and ability to act.
Some speculate that Jesus was pretending to be tired and thirsty to create a teachable moment, but this view overlooks Jesus’s human experiences and the likely physical impact of his long journey to the well. I have little doubt that Jesus was genuinely exhausted and dehydrated by the time he sat down. And Jesus was willing to use his current condition to orchestrate a powerful transformative event for a person disregarded by everyone else. The interaction between Jesus and the woman at the well sets her free to step into her calling in a way that wouldn’t have been possible if Jesus had simply arrived with a bucket of living water and declared the superiority of his offering from the outset.
This encounter is far from accidental: Jesus intentionally shapes the conversation to pique her natural curiosity. His engagement seems specifically aimed at eliciting a response, and, despite societal norms and cultural expectations, she responds. Initially cautious, she gradually becomes more comfortable interacting, engaging, and questioning Jesus. It all starts with a simple request for a drink, followed by the mention of living water — an intriguing proposition that naturally attracts her. Then, unexpectedly, Jesus shares personal insights about her life, which could have stopped the conversation in its tracks, but instead seems to add even more proverbial fuel to the conversational fire.
There’s an undeniable quality about Jesus that seems to draw her out further, compelling her to embrace any growing pains while contributing more and more to this improbable unfolding scenario. In fact, the more Jesus talks, listens, and responds, the more she appears to contribute. Indeed, before we know it, this becomes Jesus’s longest recorded conversation in the New Testament, and marks the first time he reveals his identity as the Messiah (to a Samaritan woman, of all people). As a result of the interaction, she rushes off to make her most significant contribution of all, at least within the biblical narrative, to her townsfolk — the very people she may have been trying to avoid in the first place!
The rest, as they say, is church history (or at least hagiography). However, I’m now getting ahead of myself. It’s unlikely the woman at the well would have been accustomed to interacting with strangers, particularly Jewish men, in such a candid manner. Her disclosure, “I have no husband,” is a pivotal moment in the biblical account, and often produces a collective intake of breath, but perhaps for all the wrong reasons.
Many interpret her admission of having had five husbands and currently not being married as a confession of grave moral misconduct. To many Western ears, she has betrayed herself as being casual or even flippant in her attitude toward marriage and relationships. Yet, other aspects of her story, particularly the surprising response of her townspeople, challenge assumptions about her alleged moral failings or social ostracism and cast doubt on the presumption that she was a prostitute.
People from the global South or East might more readily grasp that her situation is unlikely to be explained by appeals to her imagined sexual promiscuity. Considering the cultural context in Israel during the New Testament era, it’s improbable that five men would willingly marry a woman without fame or fortune and with a reputation for adultery. Moreover, in a culture where women typically couldn’t initiate divorce, it’s unlikely she was a serial divorcee by choice.
Additionally, given the high value placed on having children, especially sons, it’s hard to imagine five men marrying a woman known to be infertile, as some commentators suggest. Instead, her five marriages and current circumstances might have been the consequence of far more mundane yet tragic circumstances, reminiscent of the Old Testament story of Ruth. Given the harsh reality of rural life, perhaps a series of unfortunate events led to the deaths of several of her husbands. Or, a levirate arrangement might have been enforced with one or two husbands, while divorce could have played a part, too.
As far as her current circumstances were concerned, not being married to the man she now lived with might not signify grave sin; rather, it could just as easily be due to her lack of a dowry, resulting in her settling for a status similar to that of a concubine. Perhaps the man she was currently with was old and required care, and his children didn’t wish to share their inheritance with her, leaving her without a dowry document. Similar scenarios arise in some cultures even today. Scripture doesn’t clarify why she’d had five husbands, but exploring first-century realities and cultures that live more closely to these realities today helps us imagine how her circumstances might have unfolded.
IN THE ancient world, being a serial widow or divorcee was exceedingly rare, even for men. So, any sharp intake of breath at this point in her narrative should be reserved for the fact that no one outside her community, including Jesus, could have deduced her unlikely and highly convoluted set of circumstances, whatever they were. The only way of knowing would have been through divine revelation. Jesus’s extraordinary ability to uncover what was perhaps the most complex, elusive, and painful issue in her life leads her to acknowledge the divine source of his insight.
Instead of reacting with offence or resentment, she becomes even more captivated and liberated by the revelation, thereby crossing another potential pain barrier. Satisfied that he is, indeed, a prophet, she unexpectedly, from our point of view, shifts the conversation to theology, a subject a woman had no place engaging with at the time. And, yes, Jesus corrects her misconceptions, but notably, he also addresses the misperceptions within his own Jewish tradition: “Believe me, a time is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem. . . God is spirit, and his worshipers must worship in the Spirit and in truth” (John 4.21, 24).
Public domain/Wikimedia CommonsJésus et la Samaritaine (Jesus and the Samaritan Woman) by Jacek Malczewski (1912)
He corrects her without belittling her theological inquiry or making her feel inadequate. What’s intriguing is how unthreatening the Samaritan woman finds Jesus, despite the social and cultural norms that required deference to this rabbi, someone she should have considered her superior in every way.
The woman at the well is a woman in a man’s world, where men did not engage women in conversation in public, and where women certainly didn’t answer back, engage in debate, or challenge the dominant group’s claim as the ultimate standard for measuring spirituality, theology, and philosophy.
Yet, there was something about Jesus and the value he placed on their interaction that empowered her to challenge, question, and boldly express her opinions. She not only conversed with Jesus, but also posed pointed questions. This, of course, is a masterclass in empowering leadership from Jesus! Painful experience often leads underrepresented individuals to assume that their voices won’t be heard or taken seriously when they attempt to contribute their thoughts and ideas in leadership discussions. Nevertheless, like the woman at the well, many persevere anyway, even if they fail at the first, second, or third hurdle.
This story illustrates the extent to which Jesus is prepared to go, quite literally, to enable this woman’s contribution — and, by extension, ours as well. He not only understands what it takes to identify underrepresented leaders, but he also knows how best to affirm and empower them to grow beyond their pain barriers.
I occasionally find myself engaged in conversations with senior leaders, predominantly men, who express a genuine interest in involving and supporting women and people of colour in their leadership circles. They frequently lament, however, what they perceive to be a lack of confidence and competence among these groups. My response to such comments is much the same every time, because developing underrepresented groups — be it women, people of colour, or others — really isn’t rocket science.
It requires the same kind of commitment and investment that is needed to nurture all those already overrepresented leaders — because there really is nothing new under the sun! The challenge in identifying underrepresented leaders typically doesn’t stem from their lack of confidence or competence. What can be perceived as a lack of self-confidence is perhaps a natural response to being overlooked and undermined time and time again.
Instead, the challenge often lies with existing leaders who fail to build meaningful relationships beyond surface-level connections, which are crucial for nurturing any leader, let alone those from underrepresented communities. A disproportionate amount of informal time and effort often goes into reinforcing the leadership identities of the “usual suspects”. Meanwhile, there is usually a lack of consideration for the specific training and development needs of underrepresented groups.
Additionally, there is often a scarcity of opportunities, platforms, challenging assignments, or the kind of consistent practice that is often taken for granted by overrepresented leaders. To make matters worse, underrepresented leaders are sometimes expected to exercise their leadership as if they were culturally identical to the overrepresented leaders. No wonder confidence and competence are perceived as issues. Pretending to be someone else is quite literally exhausting.
The transformation of butterflies and insects in nature highlights the need for environments that optimise conditions for metamorphosis. As leaders, our becoming is more closely aligned with God’s purpose when we and those around us actually acknowledge the value of each other’s contributions.
Growth happens and limiting beliefs are weakened when we regularly reinforce this kind of affirmation. A supportive environment fuels our empowerment to contribute positively to God’s mission and to the needs of our world. As the history of so many Christian grass-roots movements reveals, if we fail to affirm leadership in others, God usually takes the matter into his own hands and finds another way.
This is an edited extract from Metamorph: Transforming your life and leadership by Kate Coleman and is available from nextleadership.co.uk/metamorph at £14.99 (Church Times Bookshop £13.49).