The Samaritan Read online

maritan

  Cecelia Smith

  Copyright Cecelia Smith

   

   

   

   

  A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho. “That’s how the story started, and as usual the Teacher was using the story to make a point. Well let me tell you, I am that certain man. I, Elijah, was the one that went down to Jericho. More to the truth, I was on my way there when the story the Teacher told happened. But I’m getting ahead of myself, so let’s start at the start.

  I had never been to Jericho in my life, and I would not have made this particular trip if my brother Aaron had not married a woman from Jericho and moved to live there with her father who had no sons of his own. We have olive groves just outside of Jerusalem. No, don’t get me wrong, we were not what you would call rich folks. No sir, not by a long shot. But we did farm a few acres of terraces of olive trees outside Jerusalem. Those groves were in our family from the time of Joshua, and each generation of us knew where the marking stones to our land were. Some years there would be war and we had to leave the land, sometimes for centuries. But whenever we had to leave, we kept the stories and whenever the people returned we would come back to the grove and farm the olives. We made a good living.

  It was not easy, let me tell you. To this day it is not easy to grow olives. But that’s not the point of the story. The real story is about that trip I had to make down to Jericho. It was a very sad trip for me. My brother Aaron had died. He had been in Jericho for only four years, when he died. Remember now, he had moved there right after he married Salome, and a very lovely woman was Salome. Anyway, they did not have any children, and as his only brother, I had to go and take Salome as my wife. This is the law. I already had one wife, but it was custom, so I was going to do it at the time of the trip. If your brother died and he had no children, the Pharisees said it was the law by Moses that you must take her as your own wife and have children for him. I was a man who obeyed the law. So the day before the story began, I went to the rabbi and arranged the proper sacrifice and offerings, before leaving my wife Lea to go down to Jericho.

  Normally, I would wait for a caravan of merchants and story tellers, but one had left a few days before. Since it was near the harvest season, another one would not come by for a long while. These legal family matters had to be taken care of right away. So early that morning, I loaded up the large donkey with the olives and other gifts I was taking for the family of my brother’s wife and tied her to the smaller donkey I would be riding. Lea and the children helped me with the work, after wards, we ate breakfast together and I set out. The sun was just coming up by the time I reached the main road out of Jerusalem. It branched a few miles to the road that went down to Jericho. The trip would take two days. So I had enough shekels to stay at inns both going and coming.

  People warned me about the robbers and bandits on the road and very few people would travel that road alone. But family is important and the law was the law, plus I hoped to meet up with a caravan or two along the way. I was not troubled by bandits; my concern was to return before the harvest.

  By the end of the first day, I was at the first inn in open country. There was nary a house for the last hour or so of that day. But just before the sun set, I came to the inn and rested for the night. They had a nice cave at the back where I put the donkeys and a youth helped me to water and wash them. The road was dusty, let me tell you. The food was good and I was so tired, I went to sleep right after I ate.

  Early the next morning, I saddled up again and set out. Just when the sun was over my head and my shadow under my feet, I saw a small village. The synagogue was right beside the main road. You could tell it was the synagogue, because it was very clean and had a sort of terrace running around it. Outside of the building was a huge sycamore tree. So I rested and ate the lunch I’d bought from the innkeeper. I must have dozed, because when I started out again, the shadow was long behind me.

  I decided to quicken my pace, as according to the stories, I would not get into Jericho before night if I didn’t. The village petered out soon enough and the road opened out to rolling hills and pasture land. I thought it odd that there were no shepherds in the pasture, but then again maybe they were on the other side of the village. This is dry country and if you over graze the land, the grass would not come back for years. I’m a farmer, I know these things.

  I started chanting a few psalms to keep myself company and before I knew it there was a clump of trees just ahead of me, making shadows on the road. Because the sun was in my eyes, I could not see into the trees, but thought nothing of it. As soon as I set foot in the shade of the trees, they jumped me. There were three of them. Rough, ugly men with foul smelling breaths descended on me. The leader, he must have been the leader, because he was the only one who spoke, had a sword. He was left handed. He cut the rope binding the two donkeys and handed it to the small one with the scar running across his cheek. The small one led the donkey with the gifts for my brother’s family into the trees. They did not take the small donkey.

  I never saw that donkey again. I cursed at them then. I called down destruction on their families for generations to come. The big ugly leader slapped me across the face with the sword. “Next time I’ll use the cutting edge,” he said. The other dragged me off the donkey. I put up a fight, let me tell you. But I was no match for the two of them. They beat me up good. The big ugly one hit me over the head with the butt of his sword. I must have passed out then as the next thing I remember was lying on the ground and hearing footsteps heading toward the village from the Jericho end of the road. At first I thought they were coming back to kill me. I could not open my eyes, they were swollen shut. Everywhere on my body hurt. I was sure something was broken, so painful did I feel. I sensed something wet on my face, and reached for the hem of my cloak to wipe it away. It was then that I noticed I was naked. They had taken all my clothes. I prayed to die, but I did not die. I groaned. I didn’t care if they came back and killed me. I just laid there and listened. It must have been close to nightfall, as I heard birds settling in the trees calling to one another.

  The footsteps came closer; I could not see a thing. Then the strangest thing happened. The footsteps cross the road just before they passed me and continued on toward Jerusalem. They were heavy footsteps, so I knew it was a man. He did not even pause, so I knew he did not look to see if I were dead or alive. “Good neighbor” I thought and groaned, hoping he’d hear me and offer me some aid. But, no, he kept right on walking minding his own business.

  I was so thirsty, I knew I was dying. The weepers in Jerusalem say when a person is dying they get very thirsty. That’s how they know to start weeping and wailing and the gnashing their teeth. If only I had a cup of water. The footsteps were gone from my hearing. The pain was great, especially in my head. The footsteps must have belonged to the priest in the story as the Teacher told it. And he a man of God!

  I laid there knowing it was only a matter of time before I’d die and join my fathers. Lea would never know. She would think I had left the family when I saw the beauty of Salome. And Salome and her family would curse my household for not following the law. As I was thinking on these things, I heard footsteps again. They were coming from the opposite direction as the first ones. So he did not decide to come back, I hoped this one will help me. Maybe he would hear my groans, so I groaned louder. They came closer and closer and did the same thing as the other one.

  The first one must have left tracks for him to follow. Yes, it was a man, a person in my position can tell the difference. Not even the loud groans I made stopped him. I swear he walked faster when he heard my groans. In the story the Teacher said he was a Levite. It must have been almost dark by now, the bandits long gone and I would die bef
ore the next sun came up. Of this I was certain.

  It was then that I heard the horse coming from the village end of the road. It was not a donkey; the steps were too heavy to be a donkey, so it must be a horse. I groaned as loudly as I could, hoping he would hear me when he came closer. I tried to sit up, but I could not. He must have seen me anyhow, because the horse stopped. I felt the man’s cloak brush my face as he peered to see if I was alive. Because when he stopped I stopped groaning. It only caused me to hurt more. I could not see him. He must have tied his horse to a tree, because I heard him as he walked away and stopped. Then he must have gotten some wine, because I felt the sting as he cleaned my wounds. Let me tell you, it was all I could do not to cry out loud, the cleaning hurt so much. Then he walked back to the horse, and came back with oil, which smelled like eucalyptus and was very soothing when he poured some of it on my wounds. His touch was very gentle. He did not ask any questions. He went back to his horse and I felt the rough cloth of a robe as he lifted me up and put it on me. He had to put my arms through the sleeves as if I were a baby. I cried then and murmured blessings on his household. At least I was no longer naked. My shame was covered.

  He must have been a very strong man. I am not a small man, neither a light weight to lift, let me tell you. But the stranger lifted me up without a sound and placed me across his horse. He brought me to a place, where he left me on the horse and went away. I still could not see. Soon there were others, who carried me inside the house and laid me down on soft straw. Someone gave me water. I murmured more blessing. I was so grateful for the help.

  I do not know how long I slept the first time, but when I woke up the sun was bright. A woman came as soon as I stirred. I could speak and see, although my eyes could not open very wide. She gave me broth and went away. I again slept.

  Finally I was able to sip up on my own and talk without the slur from my swollen tongue. Then a man came. I told him my story of being robbed. He listened and nodded. That sort of thing happened often, I was lucky to be alive, he told me. I also told him about the two men who passed me by without even a glance to see if I was dead or alive. Then I asked if he was the one who helped me.

  “No,” he said. The man who saved me was a Samaritan who lived in Jericho and was on his way to Jerusalem. He, himself was the innkeeper. He and his wife were the ones who looked after me while I slept for three days. The bandits took everything, I told him. I have no money to pay you. He told me the Samaritan had paid for my stay, and would return to take care of the bill if what he paid was not enough. I wept.

  We were cousins to the Samaritans, but not kissing cousins. We did not speak, eat or worship with Samaritans. We did do business with them and them with us. But we had no other relationship with Samaritans. I felt ashamed for never having spoken to a Samaritan in my entire life. I wept for a long time, let me tell you.

  A few days later a caravan came by heading for Jericho. I sent word of my plight to Salome and her family. I hope they did not curse me, or if they had, they would now take it back. I also asked the caravan leader to bring her back to Jerusalem when he returned and I would pay him. Another caravan came from Jericho the very next day, heading for Jerusalem. I was allowed to travel with them, and paid for the service when I reached my home.

  Lea and the children were happy to see me. Salome was brought to our house a few weeks later. I healed. We were married, and she became my second wife. The following year Salome had a son. We called the boy Jacob. Most of the Samaritans live near Jacob’s well. That’s the least I could do, as I never saw the face of the Samaritan who saved my life. I hope his name was Jacob.