A MEETING AT THE WELL............ by Rabbi Ben Abraham
The old woman slowly made her way along the dry, dusty road that passed through the Samaritan city of Sychar. This same road lead to Jacob's well which the old patriarch had allotted to his son Joseph and his descendants.
As a young woman, she had been very attractive. She caught the eye of many young men of the town. They flirted with her, brought her gifts of honey cakes, and dates dipped in honey and cinnamon.
She had enjoyed all the attention of these young men, even at the expense of the married women to whom some of those young men were attached to. These men thought nothing of having this young, beautiful woman on the side as a lover, an adventure, a sort of concubine.
This situation put her at odds with the other women who began to shun her. They began calling her names, sometimes throwing small stones at her. She didn't seem to care much and enjoyed being popular, if only among the men. Eventually, she got married to one of those young men, but her marriage didn't last long. Her husband soon tired of her and gave her a letter of divorcement.
This happened again and again, over the span o many years. The men in the town for some reason only considered her a pastime, an object of physical desire. Naomi became a bitter and frustrated woman. She used to fetch water with the other women during the morning hours, but because of the wagging of tongues and harassment by the others, she went to the well in the afternoon, when no one else was around.
This became her trend, her daily walk, her lonely path, for over 50 years. She would walk to Jacob's well, walk alone. Now she was no longer beautiful to look at, she was old and wrinkled, her hands, arms, and the skin of her face burnt brown by the hot sun. Her hair was a mix of gray and white streaks. Her lively steps had turned to slow, but still steady steps, to and from the well.
But now, there was something different about Naomi. Her countenance was no longer of anger and gloom, for a permanent shadow of peace had settled on her. It was a peace that passed all understanding. It was a peace that could only come from God above. Now her dreams of a family had been fulfilled since the day she met the master, the prophet from Nazareth. She had met him at the well, at Jacob's well.
Since meeting him, things had taken a turn for the better. She had met a widowed man, a seller of fine linen. They married and had 4 children. Now, these children had married and had children of their own. Her husband finally died and Naomi mourned for him and buried him in a small cave in the hills of Samaria.
She knew that the day would come when she would join her husband, and her children would lay her to rest alongside his bones. But for now, she would walk to the well as she had been doing for years.
Today was hot and sunny, and the summer sun was casting long shadows along the path to Jacob's well. Old Naomi walked along the dusty road carrying her old clay pitcher, which now seemed heavier than years before. As she walked along, she smiled as she heard some familiar voices.
“Grandma Naomi, Grandma Naomi” cried little Ruth as she ran up and joined her old grandmother on the old, dusty road leading to the well.
“Hello Ruth, how are you this fine day?”, replied Naomi, taking Ruth's hand in hers. Naomi's children and grandchildren had replaced her years of sadness and gloom with joy and happiness
“I'm as well as can be grandmother Naomi” smiled young Ruth. “Can I help you carry the pitcher?”
“of course,” Naomi replied, passing the clay pitcher to her granddaughter. She felt relieved as her burden was now lightened. A few minutes went by and two more of her offspring joined them on their way to Jacob's well. They still had a way to go, but now the going would be lighter as the clay burden was shared.
“Shalom Grandmother Naomi, blessings to you” greeted Ana and Levi as they now joined the two on their way to the well.
“Shalom and blessings to you both Ana and Levi” replied Naomi. Now there were four on the way to the well. They walked slowly along, the grandchildren making sure they didn't pass their grandmother, as now she walked slower because of her old age. The youngsters smiled and talked among themselves, a joke here, a friendly push there.
They finally saw it, just up ahead, a deep water well surrounded by a wall of stones. Over the years, four stout poles had been added supporting a roof made of palm branches to create a shade from the hot sun.
The four reached the well and sat down on the round rock wall that surrounded it. Naomi seemed to gaze off into the distance, deep in thought.
“Tell us about the prophet again grandma” pleaded Ana, as she looked up into Naomi's dark eyes.
“Oh Ana” sighed Naomi smiling softly, gently stroking Ana's long hair. “I've told you that story so many times.”
“Yes, but we like to hear it. It is so wonderful the way you tell it,” said Levi, now moving closer to his grandmother.
“All right” she replied as she got up to tie the well's rope around the neck of the clay pitcher. The rope was hanging from the main roof beam above the well and lay coiled on the ground, beside the rock wall. Those who went to the well tied the end of the rope to their pitchers and then lowered them into the dark, cool, life-preserving waters.
There was a hallow splash as the pitcher hit the well water and slowly sank until it was filled. Naomi pulled on the rope and the water pitcher slowly arose to the top of the well. Levi also took hold of the rope and together, old Naomi and her grandson Levi lifted the now filled water jug out of the well and placed it on the ground. Naomi then took a cloth and covered the top of the jug to keep out the dust.
She sat down again on the wall and closed her eyes. In her mind's eye, she imagined going back and back in time, back perhaps 40 years or more. She smiled as she saw herself young again. Her thoughts took her back to that special day, the day that changed her life completely. The day she met the prophet.
When she opened her eyes, she found herself quickly approaching Jacob's well. With the empty water jug on her head, she walked the remaining steps that led her to the familiar spot that provided the life-sustaining waters.
Young Naomi noticed a young man sitting down on the rock wall surrounding the well. He might have been in his early thirties. He had a gentle, serene look, a look of true peace. She noticed that he was a Jew, not a Samaritan, by the way he was dressed. He had the usual tunic tied with a cloth rope and a four-squared outer garment with tassels tied on the four corners.
She could tell he was a little hot and tired. He took a small cloth from his belt and wiped his face and beard, and then put the cloth again under his belt. The young man smiled as Naomi stopped at the well. She tied her clay water jug to the well's rope and lowered the jug into the water. The young man just observed her without saying a word. As she pulled up her now filled jug, he spoke.
“Give me to drink” he asked her, his words so quiet and ever so gentle. Naomi was surprised at his words. Jews avoided talking to Samaritans and even avoided walking through Samaria so as to avoid any and all contact with them.
“How is it that you, being a Jew ask me for a drink since I am a Samaritan woman?” replied Naomi with a friendly voice, yet a bit confused since she was aware of the cultural and racial separation of both Jews and Samaritans. For centuries, the Jews had despised the Samaritans and considered them “half-breeds” mixed with Babylonian blood. This fact, however, didn't seem to affect this man.
“If you knew the gift of God and who it is who says to you 'give me a drink', you would ask him and he would give to you living water.” replied the young man, with gentleness yet with the voice of authority.
The words surprised Naomi, as she had never heard the words “living water” spoken with such passion as this man just voiced them. Everyone knew that water was essential for life, but she had the feeling that this man was referring to something deeper, perhaps something spiritual. She had to be sure. (con't below)
The old woman slowly made her way along the dry, dusty road that passed through the Samaritan city of Sychar. This same road lead to Jacob's well which the old patriarch had allotted to his son Joseph and his descendants.
As a young woman, she had been very attractive. She caught the eye of many young men of the town. They flirted with her, brought her gifts of honey cakes, and dates dipped in honey and cinnamon.
She had enjoyed all the attention of these young men, even at the expense of the married women to whom some of those young men were attached to. These men thought nothing of having this young, beautiful woman on the side as a lover, an adventure, a sort of concubine.
This situation put her at odds with the other women who began to shun her. They began calling her names, sometimes throwing small stones at her. She didn't seem to care much and enjoyed being popular, if only among the men. Eventually, she got married to one of those young men, but her marriage didn't last long. Her husband soon tired of her and gave her a letter of divorcement.
This happened again and again, over the span o many years. The men in the town for some reason only considered her a pastime, an object of physical desire. Naomi became a bitter and frustrated woman. She used to fetch water with the other women during the morning hours, but because of the wagging of tongues and harassment by the others, she went to the well in the afternoon, when no one else was around.
This became her trend, her daily walk, her lonely path, for over 50 years. She would walk to Jacob's well, walk alone. Now she was no longer beautiful to look at, she was old and wrinkled, her hands, arms, and the skin of her face burnt brown by the hot sun. Her hair was a mix of gray and white streaks. Her lively steps had turned to slow, but still steady steps, to and from the well.
But now, there was something different about Naomi. Her countenance was no longer of anger and gloom, for a permanent shadow of peace had settled on her. It was a peace that passed all understanding. It was a peace that could only come from God above. Now her dreams of a family had been fulfilled since the day she met the master, the prophet from Nazareth. She had met him at the well, at Jacob's well.
Since meeting him, things had taken a turn for the better. She had met a widowed man, a seller of fine linen. They married and had 4 children. Now, these children had married and had children of their own. Her husband finally died and Naomi mourned for him and buried him in a small cave in the hills of Samaria.
She knew that the day would come when she would join her husband, and her children would lay her to rest alongside his bones. But for now, she would walk to the well as she had been doing for years.
Today was hot and sunny, and the summer sun was casting long shadows along the path to Jacob's well. Old Naomi walked along the dusty road carrying her old clay pitcher, which now seemed heavier than years before. As she walked along, she smiled as she heard some familiar voices.
“Grandma Naomi, Grandma Naomi” cried little Ruth as she ran up and joined her old grandmother on the old, dusty road leading to the well.
“Hello Ruth, how are you this fine day?”, replied Naomi, taking Ruth's hand in hers. Naomi's children and grandchildren had replaced her years of sadness and gloom with joy and happiness
“I'm as well as can be grandmother Naomi” smiled young Ruth. “Can I help you carry the pitcher?”
“of course,” Naomi replied, passing the clay pitcher to her granddaughter. She felt relieved as her burden was now lightened. A few minutes went by and two more of her offspring joined them on their way to Jacob's well. They still had a way to go, but now the going would be lighter as the clay burden was shared.
“Shalom Grandmother Naomi, blessings to you” greeted Ana and Levi as they now joined the two on their way to the well.
“Shalom and blessings to you both Ana and Levi” replied Naomi. Now there were four on the way to the well. They walked slowly along, the grandchildren making sure they didn't pass their grandmother, as now she walked slower because of her old age. The youngsters smiled and talked among themselves, a joke here, a friendly push there.
They finally saw it, just up ahead, a deep water well surrounded by a wall of stones. Over the years, four stout poles had been added supporting a roof made of palm branches to create a shade from the hot sun.
The four reached the well and sat down on the round rock wall that surrounded it. Naomi seemed to gaze off into the distance, deep in thought.
“Tell us about the prophet again grandma” pleaded Ana, as she looked up into Naomi's dark eyes.
“Oh Ana” sighed Naomi smiling softly, gently stroking Ana's long hair. “I've told you that story so many times.”
“Yes, but we like to hear it. It is so wonderful the way you tell it,” said Levi, now moving closer to his grandmother.
“All right” she replied as she got up to tie the well's rope around the neck of the clay pitcher. The rope was hanging from the main roof beam above the well and lay coiled on the ground, beside the rock wall. Those who went to the well tied the end of the rope to their pitchers and then lowered them into the dark, cool, life-preserving waters.
There was a hallow splash as the pitcher hit the well water and slowly sank until it was filled. Naomi pulled on the rope and the water pitcher slowly arose to the top of the well. Levi also took hold of the rope and together, old Naomi and her grandson Levi lifted the now filled water jug out of the well and placed it on the ground. Naomi then took a cloth and covered the top of the jug to keep out the dust.
She sat down again on the wall and closed her eyes. In her mind's eye, she imagined going back and back in time, back perhaps 40 years or more. She smiled as she saw herself young again. Her thoughts took her back to that special day, the day that changed her life completely. The day she met the prophet.
When she opened her eyes, she found herself quickly approaching Jacob's well. With the empty water jug on her head, she walked the remaining steps that led her to the familiar spot that provided the life-sustaining waters.
Young Naomi noticed a young man sitting down on the rock wall surrounding the well. He might have been in his early thirties. He had a gentle, serene look, a look of true peace. She noticed that he was a Jew, not a Samaritan, by the way he was dressed. He had the usual tunic tied with a cloth rope and a four-squared outer garment with tassels tied on the four corners.
She could tell he was a little hot and tired. He took a small cloth from his belt and wiped his face and beard, and then put the cloth again under his belt. The young man smiled as Naomi stopped at the well. She tied her clay water jug to the well's rope and lowered the jug into the water. The young man just observed her without saying a word. As she pulled up her now filled jug, he spoke.
“Give me to drink” he asked her, his words so quiet and ever so gentle. Naomi was surprised at his words. Jews avoided talking to Samaritans and even avoided walking through Samaria so as to avoid any and all contact with them.
“How is it that you, being a Jew ask me for a drink since I am a Samaritan woman?” replied Naomi with a friendly voice, yet a bit confused since she was aware of the cultural and racial separation of both Jews and Samaritans. For centuries, the Jews had despised the Samaritans and considered them “half-breeds” mixed with Babylonian blood. This fact, however, didn't seem to affect this man.
“If you knew the gift of God and who it is who says to you 'give me a drink', you would ask him and he would give to you living water.” replied the young man, with gentleness yet with the voice of authority.
The words surprised Naomi, as she had never heard the words “living water” spoken with such passion as this man just voiced them. Everyone knew that water was essential for life, but she had the feeling that this man was referring to something deeper, perhaps something spiritual. She had to be sure. (con't below)