It's a hot day . . . normal for Palestine and Samaria that time of y ear, that time of day. Jesus' friends who call him "Rabbi," teacher . . . who don't yet call Him anything but "Master" and who He doesn't even call "friends" yet if you follow the chronology of the synoptic gospels, beg him to rest by the Samaritan well of Sychar.
Now in those days women were mostly the water-bearers and they came up early in the morning day after day in groups to bring back to their homes the water that was needed for the day. It was weary, repetitive work and they made their tasks light with songs and gossip and the easy companionship that includes arguments and whatever kinds of day to day joys, fears, worries and all that which comes from people who are related to one another or neighbors or who have been connected across the generations. That's the way it was and in many parts of the world it still is.
But what kind of woman comes to the well, up the long hill in the dust and heat of the day . . . all by herself?
A woman tired of the scorn of her neighbors, dejected that they continue to give her a hard time about not having children, jealous of her because she has had many husbands and the man she lives with now, this day of all days is not even her husband. A woman full of sorrow and shame and embarrassment . . . bold and tough and able to go toe to toe with the Jewish rabbi she is no doubt disappointed to find there at the well.
It's a mistake to think she was some kind of a fallen woman or a prostitute. It's a mistake to think it was her choice to come to the well, up the long, hot dusty way day after day all by herself.
She was barren of children and had been set aside by the husbands over and over and over again.
How tragic.
How very, very sad.
But the rabbi saw it all immediately and didn't waste time engaging her in conversation, asking her for a drink of water there all a lone with this scorned and ashamed woman, still defiant and bold, though probably a bit shocked.
See . . . . the Samaritans were the people descended from the folks left over in the dust and burned out ruins of Jerusalem and the rest of Judea when the war machine from the east took over and took back all the survivors of the ruling class. They were the ones rejected and cast out by the arrogant and well-dressed descendants of the returning refugees who rebuilt the walls of Jerusalem and the Temple with full financial and military support from the power that was. They and their forbears and starved and scraped and hung in there on the rocks and filth and everything unimaginable left over from scorched-earth warfare in the centuries before even Roman domination.
And as Jesus and the woman at the well at Sychar went beyond "May I please have some water?"
All of this was well known to both of them.
Decent woman were not spoken to out in public by strangers. Decent women were not out and about alone without other women or without a men from the their family -- or even a boy. And yet, He not only asked . . . she answered. He not only saw her, He SAW her and knew her --- and knew that she was sad and defiant and ashamed and barren.
So the living water that He promised would rise up within her was not just some spiritual thing . . . no way. He promised he that the water of her womb would nurture babies.
He let her know she would not long have to suffer from the words and whispers and looks and nastiness of those nags who had rejected and tortured her since the first time she had been sent back to her father by the first man who had rejected her legally because she could not give him a child, let alone the prized child, a son.
And it was she who first discerned that He was special. And she knew how to ask the right questions all right.
Why are you, a Judean, talking to me, a Samaritan who you despise?
How come you believe that God is on that mountain when we know God is on the other one over there?
Are you the Messiah that you would offer me water that I will not have to trudge up this hill to get?
Do you think I can possibly believe that I will never be thirsty again in the weary waterless desert land?
And then when she was satisfied with his answers, thrilled and BELIEVING that she would indeed finally have a child . . . children!
She left her water jug there and ran down to tell everyone she had found Him. She left Him there and told the people who had scorned, shamed, ignored her, this women who had gossiped about her and rejected her . . . the men who had looked at her that way . . . speculating whether maybe they might have a chance with her sometime . . . she ran down the hill said to them, "There is a rabbi at the well. Do you think He is the Messiah? He knew everything about me. Come see, come see!"
And they later told him that they hadn't believed her . . . but they believed Him after He spoke with them, welcomed into the places where He would have been rejected and even stoned because they were cousins from the wrong side of the tracks from over the centuries and that's just the way each side looked at an treated the other . . . and still do.
They were honest.
When they came to believe they said -- "We didn't believe her . . . but wow. We see she was right after all! You are the Messiah, the Holy One of God.'
And they asked Him to stay with them. Offered Him the most precious thing in their world -- hospitality, honor and respect.
And He healed them.
He cast out demons.
He restored them to wholeness and to their rightful place in the Kingdom of His Father.
He made the Good News manifest in their village . . . in their minds . . . in their hearts . . . in their souls.
(And the still clueless disciples' attitude when they came back with the bread and meat and fish and wine that they had gone into the town to purchase for their midday meal was, "Rabbi what in the world are you doing talking to THAT woman???!!!)
She's my hero and one of the reasons that I, too, have been blessed to be called as an evangelist -- one who proclaims the good news that light has come into the world and the darkness cannot ever, ever, ever, EVER overcome it . . .someone excited to tell you about the light and life and love of the world.
Not to coerce you or batter you over the head with anything . . . just to give you a chance to ask questions and open your heart to the idea that all the Love of the world is open to you, seeking you, yearning for you.
Really.
Absolutely.
And if you even give Love one little chance, Love will satisfy you and answer every question in exactly the way you need it answered.
Really.
Absolutely.
Honest Injun.
(How'm I doin'?) .
May the Lord continue to bless, protect, guard, guide and delight you and everyone you love.
Kathleen Ware Harris © 2012
kwharris777@gmail.com
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