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It happened here, right on this spot! I was in such a hurry afterwards to tell my friends what had happened to me that I forgot to take my water jar with me..... It was here that I came for water as I usually do. He asked me for a drink. He raised this very water jar to his lips and drank from it. But it wasn’t the water he took, but the water he gave that was important. He was the Messiah -- the Christ! The one who knew all about me. He knew everything I had ever done, and didn’t hold it against me. He is the only one I have ever met who did not blame me for something. He didn’t see me as good or bad, but as -- as whole. It felt good! It was life! Yesterday I was born! But I’m getting ahead of my story... Let me start back at the beginning. It was midday. The other village women always come to the well early in the morning while it is still cool. I always try to come at noon. It’s easier that way. I can count on being alone then. The other women hate me. They think I’m after their men. They call me bad names. But even at that, I’m far harder on myself than they are. I hate myself enough without them adding to my shame.Yesterday as I approached the well, I saw a man at the well. I could tell by his clothing that he was a Jew. It was unlike a Jew to be in Samaria. They usually take the road along the |
west bank to avoid traveling in our country. I wondered if he was lost, or was blind. I saw from afar that he noticed my approach. I wondered if I should go back, or keep walking to the well. It’s so easy for me to feel guilty - as if I shouldn’t be here. But I couldn’t let him know that. So, I just kept walking and staring at the ground, hoping that he would leave. The one thing I didn’t need was someone else looking down his nose at me. But he just stood there, casual like. In fact, he smiled as if he knew me. “Shalom,” he said, “I’ve been hoping you would come along, a well’s no good if you can’t reach the water.” I could hardly believe my ears! Surely he didn’t know who he was talking to. He must be blind. Here was a man - a Jewish man at that - speaking to a woman, a Samaritan woman, in public! It couldn’t be me that he was talking to. Yet, the strange thing was, he seemed to know all about me. That scared me even more. But as soon as I felt my shame, it began to disappear. It was the way he looked at me. He didn’t look at my body, but into my eyes. For the first time, I felt as if I wasn’t just somebody’s property. I wasn’t being looked down upon, patronized, or treated as if I were nothing. It was as if he were a friend - an old friend of mine - someone who was glad to see me come home again. “Could I have a drink?” he asked. I must have looked stunned. I looked for his cup to pour him some water. “From your water jar,” he said. |
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I dropped my jar into the cool water. “Here,” he said “let me help you.” He pulled the water jar to the top of the well, and handed it to me. I offered it to him. He lifted it to his lips and drank. Water ran down his chin and beard. “Oh, that’s good,” he said. “But the water wont last very long on a hot day like this.” “That’s the trouble,” I said, “The water only lasts for a day. I have to keep coming back.” “There is water,” he said “that can spring up inside you. That water will last a lifetime.” “Sir,” I said “where can I find this?” I really had no idea what he what talking about. With that he changed the subject. “Go call your husband“ he said. This request really surprised me. “I don't have one,” I replied. I was pleased with my answer, I am an expert at “half-truths.” “You have told me the truth,” he said. “You have had five husbands and the man with whom you are now living you are not married to.” He knew... I felt my heart sink, He knew.... He knew all about me. Did he know my emptiness, the deep yearning--the search that is always in vain? If he could change the subject, then so could I. |
“I see you are a prophet,” I said. A little flattery wouldn’t hurt. Now if I could just engage him in that old “where should we worship” debate! I continued “My Samaritan ancestors used to worship God here, yet you Jews say Jerusalem is the place. Tell me, where should we worship?” “It’s not a matter of where to worship,” he said “But whether our worship is true and in God’s spirit.” “We may have to wait for the Messiah” I said “to know for sure.” “I am the one of whom you speak” he said. I could hardly believe my ears--and yet I knew that it was true. Who else could know my past and accept me anyway? Who else would listen to my questions and take them seriously? Suddenly I found the living water -- not deep in the well, but deep inside me. I was the well. He could see the darkness, the emptiness inside. He see the dryness of my soul. He could the guilt and shame, the cynicism, the anger and loneliness. But beyond that, he could see something I couldn’t. He could see the water that could refresh and renew. I hugged him, this wonderful Jewish man--hugged him with the well-spring of life coursing down my cheeks. And just as I looked up, we were surrounded by a crowd of men. They were his friends who had come back from the village. I was terrified. I knew what they were be thinking. |
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But then I heard him laugh, and the fear left me. “Don’t be afraid of my friends,” he said. “They’re harmless! This is not the first time I have surprised them, and it won’t be the last.” He laughed the laugh of God. I left them then, to go back to the village -- and wouldn’t you know, I forgot to take this. I didn’t need it, I guess. I ran to the village and went door to door. For the first time in my life I felt unashamed and strong. The people I met wondered what had happened to me and when I told them, they believed me! They actually believed me--at least some of them did. The women laughed and the men got nervous. |
I heard one man say to his wife, “Don’t listen to her. She’s crazy.” But she did listen. “Where is he?” she asked me. “Go and see for yourself,” I said. Maybe I am crazy, absolutely insane that I should feel so good. Sometimes I can’t get the words out fast enough, and sometimes I run out of breath trying. I don’t know exactly what happened or how, or where the Messiah is now. I only know that I met him at the well. The floodgates have been opened and I will never -- the world will never -- be the same for the me again. There is hope, my friends. It’s in the water that comes from God. It’s the love poured out that nourishes. It’s for me and for you! And that, my friends, is the good news. |
