The water jug felt a little heavier than usual today. As I lugged it along, a few droplets of water splattered out of the jug onto my skin. It was cool and so refreshing.
This was one of my favourite parts of the day -- coming to this well our forefathers built. There was something sacred about coming here in the middle of the day just to sit quietly for a little while and think. Mama said something the other day about what she had heard from the town gossips. Apparently I was not the only one who enjoyed this mid-afternoon time at the well by myself. Somewhere across town there was another woman who did the same, except her story caused a scandal. Apparently she had been going about her usual routine that day until she ran into a man resting by the well. Everything would have been fine if not for the fact that she was one of "the others." Or that she was... that she... she was... just like me.
And that man. What was he doing anyway? They called him Good Teacher, so how could he not have known that what he did that day would have caused a scandal? All this while I thought he would have been different from the other religious teachers. But yet he caused a scandal with a woman. A woman who was just like me. Did he realise the amount of embarrassment he would have caused her by what he did?
Naturally, I got curious. I started paying more attention to the crowds and when I finally saw him and his followers that day, I snuck in and followed them around. I could never let them find out who I was or they would have thrown me out. But I was certain he knew me. As much as I tried to avoid eye-contact with anyone, every once in a while he would look me in the eye, shaking me to my bones. Did he know? Would he give me away? But every single time that happened, it was a look of... well, something I could never really comprehend. He looked sincere, that much I figured out. But was that look of pity? Compassion? No one ever looked at me that way.
I had only seen that look on one other occasion. It was that day at the religious teacher's house. The Good Teacher had been invited over to eat. The food smelled so good that day and I was feasting till I could eat no more. That was when I caught the whiff of something. I can't exactly describe it, but I knew I liked it a lot. It was that perfume that came in an alabaster jar. I had been eyeing that jar for a long time but never found enough reason to purchase it for myself. And here I was in the middle of a feast and that fragrance filled the room. Naturally, curiosity got the better of me, but I had to remain undiscovered. So I sat quietly where I was, listening to the commotion all around.
Then I saw her. I couldn't see her face clearly, but her garments and her hair... She was... well, she was one of us. I had seen her around. Ahh, she was one of those. Some of us hid in the background trying to remain undiscovered. Others go around creating scandals. We were unclean women. We should know our place in society. The audacity she had to get so close!
I inched just a little closer to get a better view. My breath caught in my throat when I saw her standing behind the Good Teacher at his feet, weeping. Then she began to bathe his feet with her tears and to dry them with her hair. Then she continued kissing his feet and anointing them with the ointment. I sat frozen, trying to make sense of what just happened as the buzzing of the commotion around me grew louder. I heard snippets of the conversation, something along the lines of "judged rightly," and "no water for my feet," and "bathed my feet with her tears," and "hair" and "anointing" and "shown great love." And that was when I saw that look again. Except this time, amidst all the commotion, I heard him whisper, "Your sins are forgiven."
Then he looked me in the eye as if he had always known I was in the crowd, and gave me that same look. That was when I realised my cheeks were moist. And then I understood that look.
Compassion.
Forgiveness.
LOVE.
It wasn't too much later when the events of that weekend transpired. When the earth shook as the other Mary and I got there, I knew in my heart then.
He saw me. He loved me. I was free.
...
He saw himself in her story. All that he had held in to shield himself was known. For so long he had hidden himself away. Society told him they had no room for his failed marriage and struggles with marijuana and pornography. He was "one of the others," and "unclean."
But the Good Teacher saw. The Good Teacher knew. The Good Teacher set him free.
His fingers traced the outline of the Good Teacher's arm stretched out on the stained glass.
"Come, my son," the kind face portrayed on the stained glass seemed to gently whisper. Who was he to be found worthy to share that meal at the table with the Good Teacher?
Then he saw her. Mary Magdalene. She was at the table too.
An interpretation of John 4:1-26, Luke 7:36 - 8:3 and Matthew 28:1-10
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