“Sir,” the woman then said, “give me this water so that I will not thirst again for all eternity or have to come here every day to the well.”

“Go, call your husband,” Jesus said to her.

“I have no husband, sir.”

“You are right in saying, ‘I have no husband,’ for you have had five husbands until now, and he whom you have at present is not your husband.”

“Sir, are you a prophet?” the woman asked, filled with admiration. “Do you know everything?”

Jesus smiled. “Is there anything you wish to ask me? Speak freely.”

“Yes, there is one thing I would like you to answer for me, sir. Until now our fathers have worshiped God on this holy mountain, Gerizim. Now you prophets say that we ought to worship God only in Jerusalem. Which is right? Where is God found? Enlighten me.”

Jesus bowed his head and did not speak. This sinful woman, so tortured by her solicitude for God, deeply agitated his heart.

He struggled for her sake, struggled within himself to find the right words to console her. Suddenly he lifted his head. His face was gleaming.

“Woman, keep what I shall tell you deep in your heart. The day will come-it has already come-when men will worship God neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem. God is spirit, and spirit must be worshiped only in spirit.”

The woman was confused. She leaned over and looked anxiously at Jesus. “Can you be…” she asked, slowly and in a trembling voice, “can you be the One we’re waiting for?”

“Whom are you waiting for?”

“You know. Why do you want me to pronounce his name? You know it. My lips are sinful.”

Jesus leaned his head against his breast. He seemed to be listening to his heart, as though he expected it to give him the answer. The woman, bending over him, waited feverishly.

But while the two of them, both troubled, stood in silence, happy voices were heard, and the disciples appeared, triumphantly waving a loaf of bread. Finding the teacher with an unknown woman, they halted. Jesus was delighted to see them, for now he was saved from having to answer the woman’s terrible question. He nodded to the companions to approach.

“Come,” he called. “This good woman has come from the village, sent by God to draw water for us to drink.”

The companions approached, all except Judas, who stepped aside in order to avoid being contaminated by Samaritan water.

The woman tipped her jug, and the thirsty men drank. She refilled the jug, placed it skillfully on her head and proceeded toward the village, thoughtful and silent.

“Rabbi, who was that woman?” Peter asked. “You were talking together as though you’d known each other for years and years.”

“She was one of my sisters,” Jesus answered. “I asked her for water because I was thirsty, and it was her thirst that was quenched.”

Peter scratched his thick skull. “I don’t understand,” he said.

“It doesn’t matter,” Jesus replied, patting his friend’s gray head. “Don’t be impatient. You will understand in time, bit by bit… Right now we’re hungry; let’s eat!”

They stretched. out beneath the date palms. Andrew began to relate how they entered the village and started asking for alms. “We knocked at the houses and were hooted and chased from door to door. Finally, at the opposite end of the village, a tiny old lady half opened her door and looked carefully up and down the street. Not a soul in sight. She handed us a loaf of bread on the sly and immediately shut the door. We grabbed it and ran for our lives.”

“It’s a shame we don’t know the old lady’s name,” said Peter. “We could ask God to remember her.”

Jesus laughed. “Don’t feel bad on that account, Peter,” he said. “God knows her name.”

Jesus took the bread, blessed it, gave thanks to God for having put the old lady there to give it to them, and then divided it into six large pieces, one for each of the companions. But Judas pushed his portion away with his staff and turned aside his face. “I don’t eat Samaritan bread,” he said; “I don’t eat pork.”

Jesus did not argue with him. He knew that Judas’s heart was hard and that for it to soften, time was needed-time and skill and much love.

“We shall eat,” he said to the others. “Samaritan bread becomes Galilean when eaten by Galileans, and pork becomes the flesh of men when eaten by men. So, in God’s name!”

Laughing, the four companions ate with relish. Samaritan bread tasted delicious, like all bread, and they were elated. After the meal they crossed their hands. They were tired, and they slept-all except Judas, who remained awake and struck the ground with his stick as though thrashing it. Hunger is better than shame, he reflected, and this consoled him.

The first drops of rain began to beat against the reeds. The sleepers jumped to their feet.

“It’s the first rain,” said Jacob. “The earth is going to quench its thirst.”

But as they began to consider where to find a cave in which to shelter themselves, a wind arose from the north and chased away the clouds. The skies cleared. They resumed their march.

The figs which remained on the fig trees gleamed in the damp air. The pomegranate trees were loaded with fruit. The companions reached out, picked some pomegranates and refreshed themselves. The farmers were lifting their heads from the ground. They looked with amazement at the Galileans. What business had they in Samaria? Why were they mixing with Samaritans and eating their bread and picking fruit from their trees? They’d better get out of our sight, quickly!

One old man could not bear it. He left his orchard and stood before them. “Hey, Galileans,” he shouted, “your unlawful law hurls the anathema on the sanctified land which you now tread. So, what are you doing on our soil? Out of our sight!”

“We are going to holy Jerusalem to worship,” Peter answered him, and he stopped in front of the old man and bulged out his chest.

“You should worship here, apostates, on Gerizim, the mountain trodden by God,” the old man thundered. “Haven’t you ever read the Scriptures? It was here at the foot of Gerizim, under the oak trees, that God appeared to Abraham. He showed him the mountains and the plains from one end to the other, from Mount Hebron to Idumea and the Land of Midian, and said, ‘Behold the Promised Land, a land that flows with milk and honey. I gave you my word I would present it to you, and present it to you I will.’ They shook hands and sealed the agreement. Do you hear, Galileans? That is what the Scriptures say. Whoever wants to worship, therefore, ought to worship here in this holy land and not in Jerusalem, which murders the prophets!”

“Every land is holy, old man,” Jesus said with a calm voice. “God is everywhere, old man, and we all are brothers.”

The other turned, astonished. “Samaritans and Galileans too?”

“Samaritans and Galileans too, old man-and Judeans. All!”

Stroking his beard, the old man fell deep into thought. He examined Jesus from head to toe.

“God and the devil too?” he asked finally. He spoke in a lowered voice so that the invisible powers would not hear.

Jesus was terrified. Never in his life had he been asked if God’s mercy was so great that one day he would forgive even Lucifer and welcome him back into the kingdom of heaven.

“I don’t know, old man,” he replied; “I don’t know. I am a man, and my concern is for men. What’s beyond is God’s affair.”

The old man did not speak. Still stroking his beard and still deep in thought, he watched the strange passers-by proceed, two by two, and disappear under the trees.

Night fell; a cold wind arose. They found a cave and burrowed in, huddling all together in a ball to keep warm. A left-over piece of bread remained for each, and they ate. The redbeard went out, collected wood and lighted a fire. This revived the companions, and they sat in a circle, silently watching the flames. They heard the whistling of the wind, the howling of the jackals, the faraway, muffled thunderclaps which rolled down from Mount Gerizim. Through the opening of the cave a large comforting star could be seen in the sky, but soon clouds came and covered it up. The companions closed their eyes and leaned their heads on each other’s shoulders. John secretly threw the woolen cloak he was wearing over Jesus’ back, and all of them, squeezed closely together like bats, slept.