JUGS

JUGS

                I hate it.  They call me ‘Jugs’ and snicker as they point at me and leer.  (They act like it is my water jugs they mean; yeah, right!)  And, I really hate it when I am in a crowd and somebody pokes or pinches me, and whispers, ‘wee-woo’ – their other nickname for me, ‘the well woman’!  I despise the way they act.  But, I must get up and go.  If the old man gets home and there is no water so he can wash up, and so I can cook, there will Hell to pay.  He is not really so mean?!  Hopefully, nobody will be there, since it is so hot and the middle of the day.

                It is so hot and dusty out here.  It would be so much easier to come out here early in the morning.  But, the town gossips and bitties would be here then.  And, other times the wolves are there watering their flocks.  I remember mama telling me of Moses defending Zipporah at the well when the men were harassing her.  But, there are no more ‘Moses’ around, as far as I can tell.  Men are all the same.  They are not like Moses; but, more like another story mama told me, about the one, after whom ‘they’ choose to name themselves, Judah.  He traded his staff and ring for a fling.  Agh!

                Curses!  Some man is sitting at the well.  Maybe he will leave, if I wait over here in the shade.  No, he is just sitting there.  Oh well, I will just ignore him and make no eye contact.  I sure do not need another stranger hitting on me.  OK, here I go.  Let’s get the water.

                “…would you mind giving me a drink, ma’am?”  OH NO, he’s talking to me.  What am I going to do now?  And, He looks like one of ‘them’ – a Jew!

                Well, there’s no getting out of this.  “Sir, this is a little weird.  I’m a woman, a SAMARITAN woman … you are obviously a Jew.  So, why are you talking to me?”

                “You have no idea!  Who I am, what I could do for you!  If you did, you’d ask me, not me you, for a drink of ‘living water’!!”

                This guy is unbelievable.  “Excuse me!  You have no jug nor rope and this is a deep well.  So, where, how are you going to get this ‘living water’?!  Do you think you are greater than Jacob, the father of our nation, who dug this well?”

                “Ma’am, drink my water and never be thirsty again!  It would well up within you springing into eternal life!”

                Who is this man?  Just look at him.  Maybe there is another ‘Moses’?  “OK, let’s do this.  Give me this ‘living water’!  At least I won’t have to keep coming out here to this well every day!”

                “First, go get your husband.”

                What is he doing?!  I don’t need my man out here!  He might just start a fight.  He’s so mean and jealous.  “Uh, there’s just one little problem; I do not have a ‘husband’…”

                “Oh, I know that.  You have married five times, but just took up with this last fellow.  Thanks for your honesty.”

                Not sure it was honesty as much as humiliation and/or hopelessness.  But, what gives with this man?  I will ask him mama's big question!  Let’s shift the topic – “Sir, are you some sort of preacher?  a prophet?!  What do you think about this Jerusalem versus Gerizim thing?”

                “Ma’am, it’s not about WHERE as much as HOW!  It’s about Spirit and Truth!  That is what God wants.  God is a Spirit.”

                Hmmm?!  Deep stuff.  “Messiah is coming; He will settle all this for us, surely!”

                “Ma’am, you’re looking at Him!"

                “Sir, keep an eye on these water jugs;  I gotta go tell them in town.  They are not going to believe this?!  But, maybe … I feel so alive!”