AUTHOR'S NOTE
My work is a retelling of the bible story:
"The Samaritan woman at the well"
(John 4:4-42)
I sat on the sandy shore of the Mediterranean Sea pondering my name. Mayim-a name that meant water. It puzzled me, for Mayim was a Jewish name, and I had lived in this Samaritan village for as far as I've remembered. Surely Samaritans who were so shunned and despised by the Jews wouldn't give a child a Jewish name. It would be like venerating your enemies. Odd. I recalled a saying among my people: you should be like your name. Mayim was close to Miriam, which meant bitter, but I was not a bitter gift to my parents. No, I was mry, beloved and mr, loved. Was I maram- wished for? I laughed. It was confusing, the way your name branched off into millions of different meanings, each meaning foretelling your future. Deep in thought, I barely noticed my sister, Shiphrah, calling. "Mayim! Stop your daydreaming and come here. There are chores to be done!" "Coming!" I hollered. I briefly considered my sister's name. Shiphrah, a name that meant beautiful. It suited her, for she was perhaps the fairest in all of Samaria. Shiphrah was twelve and of age; her wedding to Isaac would take place soon, in the spring.
Shuffling along the dusty road leading to the town, I thought about whom I would be married to. I knew Father was already considering a few men, most of them wealthy. Shiphrah's betrothed, Isaac, the one that she loved, wasn't the least bit wealthy, so that left me as the only hope for our poor family, who was desperately in need of money. My marriage would bring the necessary wealth. Yet I despised the thought of being the item on sale, like at noisy auctions at the marketplace, where the prize was peddled off to the highest bidder. My fears were quelled by my wonderful, understanding Father who listened to me and put off any existing marriage plans. However, I knew that it would not be long until I would have to marry for the sake of my family. But as much as it hurt our rapidly dwindling money savings, Father did it for Mother's sake. Mother believed in love and had made Father promise that when the time came, I would be able to choose my own husband since she wanted me to experience love also. Mother had married Father out of love, and not because she was compelled to. Humming lightheartedly, I skipped down the road that led to Sychar, the town that I lived in.
When I arrived at home, Shiphrah was already in our garden, standing on the flat wood stool to take down dry clothing. Forlorn looking pieces of cloth that were our shifts hung haphazardly on the low branches of the fig tree. Hannah, my little sister who was barely 3 was happily playing in the grass. I glanced at the ground. Lavender and myrtle were among the abundant undergrowth, their sweet smelling fragrance wafting into my nostrils.
Seeing me, Shiphrah smiled. "Mayim, dearest, would you help me?"
"That", I replied, "Would be lovely." Shiphrah neatly folded our nondescript- colored shifts and neatly placed them in a woven basket. Giggling, Hannah tugged hard on my hand, causing me to collapse in a heap on the ground. I looked for all the world like a flower among the many layers of my skirts. I laughed as Shiphrah helped me up.
"Mayim?" She said.
"Yes?" Even though there was a two- year difference in our ages, Shiphrah was someone I could tell things to, closer to me than the closest friend.
"Mayim, have you ever thought about how plain our lives are?"
"No. Why?" Hannah nibbled at the hem of my apron. I scooped her up and tickled her as she squirmed and laughed, trying to get away. She was a playful one, that Hannah.
"Every day, we have chores. We go to the well to draw water in the mornings, and in the afternoons, we go to the marketplace. At night, we stay home and weave. Oh, and every week, we go to Mount Gerizim to worship and sit like stones for… well, forever. Our life is like one long unending routine. I can't wait to be married. It will bring some differences in life."
Mount Gerizim. Shiphrah was right. Worship at Mount Gerizim was so lifeless compared to all the wonder and beauty of the Creator's creation. It was not right for all worship to be there. The people wouldn't get the meaning, the true purpose of creation. So, unlike everyone else, I believed that the Creator resided in everything, especially in nature. Every night, I would sneak out onto the coast. The whispering of the wind in my hair, the pounding of the aqua waves on the shore, the soft, calming chirping of the crickets in the distance, the steady rhythm of my breath… actually sounded like… music. And when I got up and danced, my feet were one with the waves, my long, wispy hair riding the night breeze. From my mouth would come something beautiful- a song without words, twining and twisting like something alive in the air. It was like something deep within me was unleashed, a passion I never knew I had. It was my own secret ritual to the Creator on beneath the canopy of stars. I always hoped that somewhere up there in the starry sky He was watching me and smiling.
"Shiphrah! Mayim! Bring Hannah for supper!" Mother called. Shiphrah quickly gathered up the clothing in the baskets as I took Hannah by the hand and led her into the house. I saw worn brown shoes at the doorway. Father had returned from the carpentry. I greeted him at the table and brought him water, expecting a smile or a praise or two, but his face remained grim and stoic; his only response to me was for me to close the front door. It wasn't a good sign. I could tell business wasn't good today. I took one last glimpse of the sea from the door before I closed it. The sun was already rapidly setting bathing the sea in flames. It was stunning. My first instinct was to sing my heart out, but remembering that I was still at home, where everyone could see me, I managed to keep my mouth glued shut and happily skip with Hannah to the table. Hannah climbed into the tiny wooden chair that Father had made her so long ago. "Mim!" Hannah gurgled. It was her way of saying my name. "I'm humgry!" I gave her a wheat bun, watching her as she happily munched away, without a care in the world. I left her there and went to Mother to help with the serving. Everything was under control, at least for the time being. Later that night, when Shiphrah and Hannah were asleep, I was awoken by the hushed voices of my parents. I pressed my ear to the makeshift door leading to Mother and Father's room and only managed to make out a few phrases, but the meaning was clear enough. We had no more money. Father's shop had closed down.
Everything passed in a flash. Shiphrah and I now did all the chores while taking care of Hannah. Mother sold flowers in the marketplace and Father fished and got seeds for a vegetable garden. Shiphrah's wedding took place and she moved in with Isaac near Galilee. It seemed so far away. Isaac was able to help us out by giving us a as much as possible of his wages, The Creator bless that generous, kind man, but they needed the rest to survive as well. Days became long and tiring, and most of all, lonely. I missed Shiphrah I now spent most of my time in the vegetable garden while at the same time watching Hannah. I was a fastidious gardener; no caterpillar munching on the leaves of my lettuce would escape unharmed, and no bird stole the ripe, juicy fruit of my grapes without being shooed away. The tomatoes flourished and became ruby- red, plump and tempting, and the carrots stretched their roots down to the earth, deeper than the bottom of the sea. The garden was bountiful, and once more, there was copious food to put on the table.
Later that year, I found myself staring blankly at the ugliest man on earth. His name, Yasir, literally meant rich. "Marry him! Are you insane?" I hissed at Father under my breath. But deep down inside me, I knew I practically had no choice. Because of a dramatic increase of taxes and the garden yielding no more produce since it was winter, it was either marry him and help my family or not marry him and starve my whole family. Mother and Father seemed to understand. "You don't have to marry him if you don't want to." Mother said gently. I recalled Father's promise once again- that I could choose my own husband when the time came. I wasn't that heartless. It was obvious that they wanted me to marry him, though they valued my decision. So much depended on me. I watched Hannah for a while in silence. My normally feisty little sister was sitting forlornly on the ground, her eyes wide. She hadn't eaten for days, like everyone else in my family. A tear ran down her cheek. "I-I'm humgry", whispered Hannah. Her eyes were begging me to say yes, though she had no idea what was happening. Summoning up my courage, I announced, "Mother, Father…Yes." "I will."
My marriage to Yasir would take place next week. Normal weddings had as long a preparation period as 3 months to a year. It was obvious that this was a hasty betrothal, made so quickly because each was in fear that the other would withdraw their marriage plans- Yasir because he was so ugly, and me, Mayim, because I was downright poor. The wedding came and went. My family had enough money, and I now lived with Yasir in the south of Samaria in rich luxury. Despite all the pleasures I has access to, I longed the freedom of my old life as the happy girl who danced along every pathway, weaving herself a pattern in the colorful flowers on the field. As the girl who always asked questions, the girl who always yearned to know more. I wanted, needed to be once again on the shore, experiencing the wonder and beauty of the Creator, and expressing that in my being. Yasir wouldn't let me leave, fearing that I would run away with a more handsome man. So for a long, long time, there were many sleepless nights, many meals sent away uneaten, and many begs and pleas, and even tears, until I finally couldn't bear it anymore. On that moonlit night, I ran, ran to the shore like a caged bird taking flight, singing of freedom. I lay back on the white, soft sand glittering like a million diamonds in the moonlight and listened. Everything was still. I wondered if far, far away, in my home, the grasses in the garden were as still as my heart. I climbed the highest rocks on the sand and leapt down, down, down into the awaiting ocean. Cold water embraced me as I shattered the moon's reflection soundlessly. Opening my mouth wide, I sang loud and clear. I sang and danced on that mysterious moonlit night, and I expected everything to be perfect. But up, up far above me in the town came shouts. Clouds blotted out the moon. But it wasn't dark. Torches blazed- the only illumination in the still silence. It seemed like all earth was holding their breath, waiting for something to happen. The soft patter of footsteps pierced the air. More shouts. From the darkness of the shore came shadows of men, coming closer. I knew that they were searching for me. Bright lights came with them, flashing in my eyes and momentarily blinding me. I was just aware of hands reaching out to grab me, and many fingers pointing. I dived deep down into the water, eager to escape the turmoil. There were splashes around me …following me. The last thing I remembered was a muffled anguished cry in a familiar voice and a strong grip on my ankle pulling me down before everything went black.
I groggily pulled open my eyes, which were crusted with salt. My hair, face and body were filthy with it. "Moth-" I started to say. The events came back to me all at once. I dazedly examined my surroundings. I was on a bed, in a wealthy person's home, most likely, but not Yasir's, since they weren't familiar. Ornate tables and chairs carved out of mahogany stood haughtily… I gasped as I noticed the lone male figure standing in a corner of the room, watching me. He stood in an equally haughty posture as the furniture. "Hello, Mayim", he sneered. I gasped. How did he know my name?
"Who-who are y-you?" I stuttered.
The cold steely voice came again. "I am Hadar, Yasir's younger brother. Do not ask questions. I will do the explaining." He, surprisingly, for someone who was related to Yasir, was not ugly. However, everything about him seemed malicious, and I wondered what had happened that night on the beach. I wondered if Yasir was angry with me.
As if reading my thoughts, Hadar replied, "Yasir is dead." It took a moment for this to sink in. I remembered- the night, the voice…
"I drowned him," Hadar smirked. "For what, you might ask." Hadar continued bitterly. "Yasir inherited all of our father's riches when he died and spent 15 years living like a king, up to his ears with wealth. And I? I was left penniless, as a beggar in the filthy streets. When Yasir recognized me, he laughed and spit in my face. Now he is dead and all his property is mine! Mine! Mine!" He laughed. It was a dissonance- a sound filled with hate. "And now, Mayim, now you are mine as well." At the way he spoke that phrase, a horrible realization dawned upon me. I stared down at my body and saw blood. Sticky crimson blood that ran in rivulets down my legs. I wore no clothing. Every single part of me was exposed to the world. Many terrible thoughts filled my head. Shocked and scared, a wave of nausea washed over me. Too tired to even fight it, I leaned over and vomited into an ornamental vase on the bedside table. Acid bile stung my throat; I retched and retched until there was no more to bring up. Finally it was over. Chest heaving, I turned my head to rest on the pillow. Hadar laughed again- the same cruel laugh -a harsh sound echoing over in my ears again and again.
The next day, Hadar demanded a marriage. It was performed crudely on the streets, open for everyone to see. My face was red with shame for days after, unable to even imagine what others would think of me now. Now I was kept in the room, unable to leave. Hadar stayed with me, all the time examining me with sharp, penetrating eyes. Through all of it, I was still numb with shock that a person would kill his own brother out of pure jealousy. I wept for Yasir, the unfortunate, ugly victim. I sang silent songs in my head and imagined the starry sky. The Creator was watching me somewhere. I prayed to Him to listen to me.
One day, Hadar left the room. I dumbly waited, like a little innocent cottontail rabbit caught in the relentless beam of a flashlight, scared, yet unable to escape. But whether it was the Creator who heard my prayers or just a piece of sheer luck, Hadar never came back. He was killed by the friends of Yasir in town. Once again, I timidly crept out, happy just to see the sun. I considered going back to the sea and dancing, but my feet never stopped as I passed the lovely ocean beckoning me. I knew that there was something that I had to do first.
My feet led me down familiar roads and stopped at a worn down house. I knocked and a young girl threw open the door. "Mayim?" She said, almost as a question. It was Hannah. She had grown so. It only seemed like yesterday that she was crawling around the garden in diapers, happily cooing. I reached out to hug her, but she shrank away, slipping into the house that I once called home. "Mother! Father! Mayim's here?" Hannah cried uncertainly. Mother and Father came. But without a word, the heavy oak door was swung shut in my face. My eyes became wide with disbelief. My family was treating me like strangers! My own family that I married Yasir for! But even as I thought these thoughts, I noticed that one person still remained. Mother. Her blue, blue eyes that were the color of the sky were filled with sorrow and pain.
"Mayim, we heard."
"Yes, Mother." Here, news traveled quickly due to all the gossipers.
"In this society, that makes you unclean, Mayim."
"Yes, Mother." Her words stung more viciously than arrows. Tears dripped down my hot face. I turned to leave.
"Mayim! Wait!" Mother cried. "I have to tell you something."
"What?" My voice dripped with sarcasm.
Mother paused and swallowed, as if making a difficult decision.
She spoke. "One day in the spring, a Jewish woman came to our door. She was very weak and-"
I whirled around to face Mother again as soon as she said 'Jewish'. I knew this was going to be important. Samaritans had nothing to do with Jews and were not supposed to even utter the word 'Jew'. 'Jew' was like a curse- word, yet my law- abiding, respectful Mother was doing it before my very eyes.
Mother continued. "The woman was weak and looked like she wasn't going to live very long. Before she collapsed, she handed me a bundle and said six words: This is Mayim, care for her."
Mother paused and I could hear the sorrow in her voice as she finally managed to say the words I had guessed long before they dropped like heavy stones from her mouth. "Mayim, you aren't our daughter."
I turned and fled. I could only recall Mother shouting something behind me, her voice growing fainter and fainter as I ran further and further: "Mayim, my child, follow your heart."
I sought refuge in the ocean, in that blue, blue piece of heaven. The ocean was the only one that didn't turn me away despite all that had happened to me. Even though the ones that I had loved the most had robbed me of my life, the ocean was the one who restored it. The ocean whispered to me her secrets; she was like the family I had lost so long ago that it almost seemed like a past life. The ocean led me to her cave set in firm stone; she brought me driftwood to make fires and little pieces of sea glass to hang up. She helped me make my dwelling. The ocean brought me plentiful fish for food and kelp that I washed and dried to weave into baskets. The ocean gave me so much and never asked for anything in return. And…she brought me Mosis.
That day, the waves waged war on the sandy shores, while the wind howled and the rain pounded steadily on. It made me wonder. I had never seen the ocean so furious before, and as it churned and splashed foaming white on the rocks, I stared, frozen with terror and awe, though I had retreated into the warm safety of my cave long before. Thunder cried out in pain and all around me lightning flashed, casting eerie shadows, but all was becoming hazy. Worn out, my eyelids drooped as I slept out the storm.
I awoke to an innocent blue sky that was without a trace of the terrible storm preceding it. Breezes brought to me the fragrance of the sea, wafting into my nostrils. The crunch of kelp and scattered seashells underfoot was like the steady rhythm of a drummer, or perhaps my heartbeat, as I made my way along the beach. Nearing, I saw the remains of a fishing boat, protruding unnaturally from the cluster of jagged rocks. It was certainly the storm's doing. The vessel weakly called out to me. Confused, I gently brushed aside the splintered wood to reveal a young man. He had stunning eyes- bottomless and hazel, begging me to help. The rest of him was equally stunning. His ripped tunic exposed muscular arms and chest, his hair a honey color… I silently gawked at him, searching for words, as if my brain had been dislodged at the very sight of him. He, barely conscious, just blankly stared back at me.
A few moments later, I was finally composed enough to offer him my hand. He dazedly took it and rasped his thanks as I helped him to my cave. I gave him a shell of fresh water, and with a grateful nod, he thirstily gulped it down. We sat in a loss of words for a few moments until he finally broke the silence. "Many thanks, kind sister."
Overcome by shyness, I managed to stammer "Oh. I-I, well, It w-w-was n-nothing."
He smiled. "My name is Mosis."
"My name is Mayim." I haltingly replied.
"Ah. So it was a beautiful water goddess, dwelling by the sea who rescued
me" Mosis said in a light tone.
My cheeks reddened. I loved the poetic language he spoke. Already, I was beginning to enjoy his company. Mosis went on about his past. He, too, was the victim of hate and prejudice. Like me, Mosis was a Jew in Samaria. He was my brother.
Mosis and I spent our time on the beach, whispering secrets and learning about the mystery of each others' pasts. Mosis never knew our birth mother or father. Our father had gone on for a long voyage at sea and was lost, which left our mother to fend for herself. It was a hard task that even my strong mother could not bear. When she vanished with me, Mosis was barely a month old. Even though Mosis was abandoned, he was discovered by an old childless couple-a fisherman and his wife- who were kind enough to raise Mosis as their own. As time went on, the same increase of taxes that had forced me to marry Yasir had forced Mosis to also learn the trade of fishing. Mosis was taught by his adopted mother and father; they had been in the boat when the storm had struck. Only Mosis had survived.
Slowly, we were making up all the time together that we'd lost over the long years. Though I had never told him, Mosis knew that I loved to sing and dance. He taught me wonderful songs of praise from the Song of Songs. Each day, we grew closer, no longer as brother and sister, but in an intangible bond of love. I trace my finger along the edge of the necklace that Mosis had so lovingly placed around my neck. I hear a light melodic clingclang of seashells as I invite him in. His recent travels still lingering on my lips, I close my eyes, enjoying the tingling feeling that is now coursing through my entire being. I release the jewelry and it drips down into the crevasse of my shift, hanging loose, where it dangles carefree. I utter a blissful sigh. The sound of the seashell necklace chimes again, like the sound of prayer beads. I pray for our sinners as I become one with Mosis.
I was possessed. The next day, early in the morning, I left the cave, left Mosis once again, but this time forever, and traveled to Galilee. It was a long journey on foot, but I walked with much more spirit and vigor that I realized that I had. Maybe it was the demon within me, driving me on with improper desires, or maybe it was something within me, walking, walking and walking to struggle to break free of that hold. Whatever it was, irony spurred me on. Arriving at the nearest town of Galilee, I immediately found what I was looking for. By the end of the month, I had two husbands. I did not even know their names. The fits of madness drove me, and soon, my belly grew round. Days came, then months. The baby was born. A girl, but she was unnamed. The rest of life passed in blurry confusion.
Even then, I grew tired of the crazy recklessness. There were still some nights that I once again danced and sang, but this time, in the emptiness of my own heart. I ached for Mosis, wondering, though it was long ago, what he must have felt like when he discovered I was gone. I never even said goodbye. But as I gazed at the moon of hopes in my soul, I became young again. Seeking the comfort of the road, I traveled back to my hometown. Though the sudden fits of desire now came upon me regularly, I now was able to control them slightly.
I now lived in the outskirts of Sychar, taking care to avoid meddling villagers. But as I walked along the busy pathways, I heard a voice calling out to me. It was Mosis. Our eyes met and he silently forgave me. But he walked away.
It was then that I noticed another man, like Mosis in appearance, but that same hungry desire in his eyes, like me. I walked closer and talked with him. The man, Abraham, was like me- a perfect mind in an imperfect body. From birth, he had been crippled, unable to walk. Something inside me told me to bring him home. Abraham was knowledgeable in Scripture writing and despite he appearance, was quite intelligent, more so than the villagers, who considered him an idiot. Now my hands were full taking care of Abraham. He was my only hold to the physical world. Without him to confide my thoughts, I would be as lost as an embroidery thread in a sea of straw. Some nights, I would even take Abraham with me when I danced; it cheered him so. I trusted him and soon, the bond grew so strong that we could even speak to each other without words.
The villagers soon discovered this and my past. Now when I came out with Abraham, both women and men alike eyed me with open contempt. There were whispers accompanied by pointing fingers. Soon, I was treated as an outcast; even street peddlers knew of me and refused to sell to me. Through it all, I avoided all people, remaining stoic.
The noonday sun beat down on my back in oppressive waves as I made my way through the empty streets leading to the well. My each step was heavy and labored, for I was burdened with far more than my clay water jars. Shame, guilt and embarrassment were like weights on my neck, pulling my face towards the ground, rather than the road ahead. I had now clearly understood my past, and as I relived every painful detail in my mind, I resented the villagers for treating me so. Fine. You villagers don't need me. I certainly don't need you. Why should I care what you think? But my inner voice whispered Look at me, talk to me, love me… please. I trudged along. The sun scorched even my thoughts, that came out as a billowing cloud of steam, obscuring them from view. I sighed and focused on the pebbles on the path, wishing that I could become one of them, in the dirt and without a name. I was startled by a gentle voice
"May I have a drink?" I barely concealed my shock, recognizing him as a Jew. "You are a Jew and I am a Samaritan woman," I replied. "How can you ask me for a drink?" From my head popped a million questions: Did he know that I was a Jew as well? Or was I a Samaritan now? Or am I both? Doesn't he know that it was improper to approach a woman like this? Doesn't he see that I am here at this time of day to avoid people?
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