Recently, while reading scripture at my home church in Mississauga, forty-one verses from the Gospel of John, chapter four, I was reminded that even a simple conversation between two people can sometimes change a community.
Later that afternoon, walking along Lake Ontario on the first warm day of the year, I found myself reflecting on the passage. It contained a surprisingly modern lesson about leadership, inclusion, and the power of conversation.
At its heart, the story describes something very simple: a conversation between two people from very different worlds that ultimately changes a community.
At a time when public debate in Canada often feels divided, and our national unity is being tested by economic pressures and regional tensions, that lesson feels particularly relevant.
We often take pride in our ability to listen to one another and find common ground. Our political culture, at its best, has valued civility, compromise, and dialogue. But like many democracies today, we are not immune to the pressures of polarization, social media echo chambers, and the temptation to reduce complex issues to simple slogans.
Real understanding rarely comes from louder arguments; it comes from better conversations.
Canada is also a vast and diverse country—geographically, culturally, and economically. From Atlantic fishing communities to prairie energy towns to the growing cities of Ontario and British Columbia, Canadians often see the country through different lenses. That diversity can sometimes create tension, but it can also be one of our greatest strengths—if we remain willing to listen to one another and have honest conversations across regions and perspectives.
At a moment when Canada is facing renewed tests of unity, from trade tensions with the United States to debates about regional alienation in places like Quebec and Alberta, the need for better conversations across our country feels particularly important. In times like these, it becomes easy for people to retreat into their own regions, their own political camps, or their own assumptions about others. But the strength of a country ultimately depends on its ability to listen across differences and keep talking to one another.
The story itself takes place in Samaria, where Jesus meets a Samaritan woman at a well. At first glance, it appears to be a simple encounter between two strangers. But when you look more closely, the conversation crosses several boundaries that were incredibly rigid in the first century.
First, there was the issue of ethnicity. Jews and Samaritans had deep hostility toward each other that stretched back centuries, and many Jews would go out of their way to avoid even passing through Samaria.
Second, there was the issue of gender. In that culture, a man—particularly a religious teacher—would not normally engage in a public conversation with a woman he did not know.
And third, there was the woman’s own social standing. The story tells us she came to draw water at noon, alone in the heat of the day. Wells were typically social gathering places early in the morning or in the evening when it was cooler. The fact that she was there alone suggests she may have been someone living at the margins of her community. The passage also hints that she had been married several times and was now living with someone who was not her husband; circumstances that likely made her the subject of judgment in a small village.
And yet the conversation still happens, with respect and dignity.
In that moment, several barriers are quietly crossed at once: ethnic hostility, gender expectations, and social stigma.
What begins as a simple encounter becomes something more meaningful. A chance meeting becomes a collision of perspectives. That collision leads to a conversation. The conversation creates a connection. And that connection spreads an idea that eventually reaches an entire community.
It’s a reminder that communities are often built through a series of simple human moments — encounters that lead to conversations, conversations that lead to connections, and connections that ultimately shape communities.
While walking along Lake Ontario that afternoon, another thought came to me. Years ago, former Toronto mayor John Tory once said something to me that I did not fully appreciate at the time: “Invite the unusual suspects to the table.”
Thinking about this story, that advice suddenly made perfect sense.
Wisdom and insight do not always come from the people we expect. Sometimes they come from voices that have been overlooked, dismissed, or excluded.
We talk a great deal today about diversity, equity, and inclusion. But sometimes those discussions become focused on policies or obligations, the idea that inclusion simply means adding someone to the room.
This story suggests something deeper.
True inclusion is not about checking a box. It is about conversation. It is about inviting people into the discussion, listening to their perspectives, and genuinely considering what they have to say.
Conversation can be transformative. Truth spreads through conversation, not force or coercion.
That principle also contains an important leadership lesson.
In business, politics, and community life, the fastest way to get something done is often to issue a directive. A top-down decision can move things forward quickly.
But speed is not the same as effectiveness.
The better approach is conversation: bringing people into the discussion, listening to different viewpoints, and working through issues together. When people feel heard, they develop a sense of ownership. And when people feel ownership, they are far more likely to support the outcome and participate in the implementation.
This is something I try to practice every night on my radio program, The Brian Crombie Hour. Instead of quick sound bites, we have longer conversations with guests; conversations that allow us to understand who someone really is, what motivates them, what excites them, and what they hope to accomplish.
Because when we take the time to have those conversations, we begin to understand each other a little better.
And the longer I spend having those conversations—on the radio, in business, and in everyday life—the more convinced I become that real understanding almost always begins there.
And maybe that is how real change often begins.
With a simple encounter. Different perspectives collide. Conversations begin. Connections form. And sometimes those connections spread ideas that can change an entire community.
In the end, the story of the woman at the well is not really about religion alone. It is about something universal: how people learn from one another when they are willing to stop, listen, and talk.
Perhaps that is why a story written two thousand years ago still resonates so strongly today.
Communities, and even countries, do not change because someone gives a speech.
They change when people start having different conversations.
