The Woman at the Well: A Midrash

Third Sunday of Lent (John 4:5-42)

Sir, give me this water, so that I may not be thirsty or have to keep coming here to draw water.

I feel for the Samaritan woman who comes to draw her daily water in the hot, afternoon sun. All the other women have come and gone from Jacob’s Well hours ago, when the morning air was still cool. She is intrigued by Jesus’ offer of a water that will take away her thirst and save her from having to make this daily trip to the well. Why does she resist this social chore where women gather? Most commentators point to a biographical detail that Jesus reveals in the narrative. The Samaritan woman has had five husbands and currently lives with a man who is not her husband. There seems to be a consensus among homilists that she is shamed by the women at the well for her less than virtuous ways.  

But the Johannine story tells us more than simply the marital status of the Samaritan. When she speaks of the ancestral Jacob and his well, there is a sense of pride in her people’s tradition. She is sensitive to proper societal norms; questioning Jesus’ forwardness when he asks for a drink. She is somewhat educated since she understands the differences between Samaritan and Jewish practices. Perhaps she is even an intellectual who enjoys a good, theological discussion over the correct mountain from which to worship God. Perhaps she is seen by the townspeople as a wisdom teacher in their midst. Is she a prophet in her country? After all, the town first comes to believe in Jesus through her witness before coming to believe through their own experiences.

Reading this Gospel for the third Sunday of Lent, I wondered why the same people who shame the Samaritan woman into drawing from the well later in the day would give her any credence when she claims to have met the Messiah. Have we misjudged her? What, then, might be another reason the Samaritan wants so desperately to have her thirst quenched or need no longer come to the well? Listening to the Gospel, I wondered if I might have something in common with the Samaritan woman. I too have a thirst that cannot be quenched. I too avoid certain gatherings of women.

I think it is safe to assume that the woman comes to the well alone that day since no one else is mentioned in the story. Jesus even tells her to go home to fetch her husband. And yet, the other women most certainly have children in tow when they make their daily trip to Jacob’s Well. Could it be the Samaritan woman is childless? Is her infertility the reason five husbands have left her and she now must depend on a man unwilling to commit without the promise of heirs? Each time she travels to the well that Jacob built for his children, does she mourn a legacy that will never be? An early morning trip to the well, where the women and children are gathered, is a daily reminder of what is lacking in her life. It is a reminder that she will never have the life she imagined as a little girl accompanying her own mother to the same well.

Each time the Samaritan approaches Jacob’s Well in the rush hour of morning, she takes a deep breath and prepares herself for the encounter. She forces a smile as the other women commiserate about the trials and tribulations of motherhood – and how men just don’t understand. But on this particular day, the day she would meet Jesus, she can’t bear to face the women at the well. Today they are gathering to celebrate the birth of a new baby. There would be hugs, cooing and laughter all around. There would be stories about the pains and euphoria of childbirth. It would be proclaimed once again that this special time is “woman’s work.” Each woman would promise the new mother that she can count on them; because they share something that only women can share.

The Samaritan woman longed for the day when her thirst would finally leave her and she could celebrate with the same joy and solidarity felt by the others. But today was not that day. Today she couldn’t face them. Today she would wait to go to the well, despite the noonday heat. It was on this day, in her despair and desperate search for meaning, that she comes across Christ.