This is something I wrote while on retreat at the Jesuit Retreat House in Oshkosh Wisconsin in the summer of 2015. That was my first visit to the retreat house. I have not been able to go this year but I hope to get back there next year.

Ignatian Spirituality encourages the use of the imagination. This is my imaginative reflection on the story of the Woman at the Well from John's gospel.

I Have A Name

She was used to being stared at.  Ever since her first husband kicked her out of their home people had been staring at her.

“Well let them stare!”  Had she said that out loud?  She felt so alone that sometimes she blurted things out just to hear the sound of a human voice - even if it was her own.

Now, in the middle of the day it was finally safe to go to the well.  Everyone else was inside - out of this awful heat. No one would be laughing or whispering - or staring!

As she approached the well she saw him.  “Great,” she thought “a strange man at the well - just what I need.  What does he want? What am I thinking - all men want one thing and one thing only.”

Men had not treated her well in the past.  Once they knew she would never produce a child they tossed her into the street.

Well, no more!  She would not be bullied into pleasuring another man.  Five had thrown her out - six if you counted her own father.  So far this current one hasn’t seemed to care but she wasn’t about to give him an excuse to put her out of his house.  This stranger better deep to himself!

“He looks like a Jew” she thought.  “Better for me. He’ll keep his distance - wouldn't want to make himself ‘Unclean’ - what a joke”!

She got to the well.  So far, so good. He’s just sitting there in the shade of the well with his eyes closed.  Using the rope, she lowered her bucket and began the work of drawing water for her “household”.  Another joke. How can you have a household when there’s only the two of you and no children to care for?

“Oh, stop feeling sorry for yourself and get done so you can get away from the well before this guy wakes up”!

Before she could finish pouring her first bucket of water she heard his voice

“Give me a drink”

Who was he talking to?  Certainly not her. But she was the only one around.

Again he spoke - “Give me a drink”.  Never opening his eyes.

“Are you talking to me”?  She asked

This time he opened his eyes and looked at her.  “Give me a drink”. No, he didn’t look “at” her - he looked inside her.

“How can you ask me for a drink?  You’re a JEW! I’m a Samaritan - AND a WOMAN!  Why are you talking to me”?

“Give me a drink” he said a fourth time.

As she drew a skin of water for him from her bucket he added “If you knew who I was you would ask me for a drink and I would give you living water”.  She wanted to think he was crazy but there was something about him that made her stop and think about what he said. “No Photina,” he said, “I am not a crazy man.  I am the one who can deliver you from the pain and sorrow in your life”.

“PHOTINA!  He called me Photina!  How did he know my name?  Not “woman”, not “hey you”.  He called me by my name! He called me Photina”.  Her thoughts came so rapidly she had to sit down. And so she sat next to him in the shade of the well.  And they talked. It was as if she had always known him. No, it was as if HE had always known HER. He knew everything about her.  He spoke with kindness and with . . . what was it?

He spoke with Love.

He didn’t laugh.  He didn’t whisper. He didn’t stare and point.  He looked at her with gentle eyes . . . with kind eyes . . . with loving eyes.

Suddenly there were voices.  Men! Lots of them. A dozen or more!  Photina jumped up and ran home leaving her water jars behind.  She ran all the way back to her house - but she didn’t go in. she had to tell someone about this remarkable man.  She had to share this story. She had to be brave and take this good news to the people who had ridiculed her. The people who stared at ther!

But her heart was full and she couldn’t keep it to herself.

He called her by her name!