Back in the 1960s Lord Snowden took a photograph of an old man walking on the beach near Brighton. The man wore a cloth cap, a large woollen scarf, a rather ragged looking overcoat and his trouser legs were rolled up above his knobbly knees. He was barefoot and he had the butt of a cigarette sticking out of his mouth. The picture was simply entitled “Mr Phillips 1966”.

When the picture appeared in an exhibition in London Snowden had added a caption. It read: “Every day, Mr Phillips moved almost imperceptibly in and out with the tide leaving his shoes at the high watermark. I suddenly realised he was a deaf mute. I talked to him in sign language, which I had learnt at school because one wasn’t allowed to talk after ‘lights out’. He said he lived in a bed sit in the town and that no-one had spoken to him for twenty years.”

It’s hard to imagine what it must have been like not to have spoken to anyone for more than twenty years. Yet there he was, Mr Phillips, moving in and out with the tide very much alone and terribly lonely.

But after meeting Snowden it was as if the lights had come on. The conversation they had that day warmed his heart and the photograph became something of an icon in the Snowden collection. The local community recognised and cared for him and from then on he was never alone.

Mr Phillips survived what had been a horrible, dehumanising rejection.

When Jesus engaged in conversation with the Samaritan woman at Jacob’s Well he discovered that she too lived in a silent world of rejection for very different reasons.

This woman had a history, a reputation that was regarded as shameful. Consequently she was scorned and subjected to nasty gossip. She was alone, excluded, rejected.

That was why she walked a mile or so out of town, in the heat of the midday sun to Jacob’s Well rather than follow the local custom of going to a well in town in the early morning. This was how she avoided her tormentors and the pain of rejection.

It’s said that this Samaritan woman is the most broken, rejected woman in the whole Gospel story

When Jesus meets this woman he is thirsty, weary and alone. The disciples had gone ahead into town for food. He has no means of drawing water from what is a very deep well. So he asks the Samaritan woman for help. “Give me a drink”.

In that moment Jesus acknowledges his own need. He shares with this broken woman his own vulnerability. And in that sharing he gives her a refreshing dignity and respect. He trusts her. He gives her back her identity as a human being and he gives her purpose. In their conversation she finds a new confidence, a new spirit.

“Give me a drink”. The woman responds. She dares to cross the boundaries of division, divisions that have separated the Jews and the Samaritans for centuries. She is no longer alone. She is inspired and encouraged to face her neighbours and tell them about Jesus.

She is free. She is also the first evangelist of the universal Gospel for in Jesus she has discovered God, God so loving the world – not in theory, but in action.

John’s account of this dramatic event reads like the minutes of a meeting giving the salient points. We are left to imagine the excitement and the amazement that spread throughout that community.

The lights had come on. The pride and prejudice imbedded in their attitudes and behaviour is challenged as never before.

We are told that Jesus stayed with them for two days. It was a time of revelation; a transforming experience and the catalyst for all of this was the Samaritan woman’s willingness to help Jesus

You see Jesus did not come to that Samaritan town with something to give them. He did not come pretending to tell them how to live their lives. He didn’t say: “I have what you need.”

Instead he says, “There is something you can do for me. Give me a drink.”

In Holy Week, with its emphasis on the cost of discipleship and the unifying power of the Cross-, we may well ask the question: “How can I help Jesus?”

The Jesus who thirsts for peace and reconciliation among all people; the Jesus who thirsts for justice for the poor and the oppressed; the Jesus who thirsts to relieve the misery and loneliness of those without hope.

“How can I help Jesus?” Perhaps by offering a kindly word to Mr Phillips that says you are not alone. Perhaps by taking a courageous step in facing down the kind of pride and petty prejudice that excludes and corrodes goodwill and good manners.

“How can I help Jesus?” It’s a good question for Holy Week. It’s a good question for today and every day.