Monday's Moodle #3

Bethlehem's Well

Old well in an ancient walled city, night sky with an oil lamp

Bethlehem’s Well

It was a mission of stealth and speed. Sentries paced atop the low wall, keen for any sound or sight of movement in the darkling night. Yet while the watchers’ ears strained for the sounds of mustering troops, their thoughts were blind to the shadowy dells and deep hollows where David’s mighty men crept.

A faithful trio painstakingly worked their way behind enemy lines so quietly that their light footsteps fell as soft as shadows as they crossed the wall, navigated the narrow side streets, and slipped from dim corners to shadowed archways and on. Their chiseled faces smiled, and bright eyes twinkled with playful delight. The three pressed toward their goal—the city gate and the town's ancient wadi. A deserted courtyard surrounded Bethlehem’s well except for a lumpy soldier slumping against a wooden column holding an oil lamp.

Its casually flickering flame cast dancing shadows across age-worn flagstones, giving the courtyard an otherworldly feel. The smooth gray stones felt cool on their unshod feet. Hollow echoes and undecipherable murmurs teased their keen ears, yet they heard no sound except the rustling of their garments. Nearer and nearer, they edged until they crept close enough to perceive the slow rhythmic breathing and see the collapsed eyelids of the well's guardian, fast asleep on a stout inverted clay pot.

Two of the men kept a lookout, noticing the backs of Jebusite patrols a stone's throw away, blindly focused on what threats loomed outside their walls and not on those that lurked within. The third man carefully lowered the water skin into the well until it softly hit the surface with a subtle splop. They froze and counted heartbeats as the sleeping guard shifted his weight a little and rubbed his nose. Slowly, carefully up came the water skin, up, up, up, and out, until it was gracefully looped on a cord around his shoulders and the three turned to slip away.

Just then, a dog barked, and the guard opened his eyes just in time to see three dark shapes moving from the well. "Hey, who are you?" he commanded in guttural barks of the harsh Philistine language. Knowing that the gig was up, the three mighty men made a mad dash for the gate. Drowsy sentries jogged out of quiet stupors and awkwardly spun about, straining to see what was happening. The sleepy guardian tried to follow but became tangled in a pile of buckets and fell headlong into a confused mess. Before the sentries at the gate could get organized, the three mighty men sprinted through with wings on nimble heels, laughing as they ran. A few arrow shafts whined in the dark, and a horn sounded as they escaped into the night.

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This little story, tucked away in 2 Samuel chapter 23, usually gets little attention from the pulpit or lectionaries but is one of my favorite Old Testament mini-tales. It's part of a greater narrative of Israel’s ongoing war against the Philistines before 970 BCE. The three who took on this high-risk adventure were David’s mighty men: Jashobeam, Eleazar, and Shammah. But why’d they do it?

The Cambridge Bible commentary says the Three’s act of chivalry was the highest act of love for their king. But was this sign of devotion more than a macho stunt? I think so. The little acts of goodness we see and do accomplish more than is seen on the surface. Imagine how the story circulated among the army: the smirks, eye rolls, and admiring reflections. A story, a tale of someone’s crazy, death-defying exploits, sent a wave of enthusiasm through the men, and maybe a little laughter about the reckless deeds of their comrades stirred them to remember why they were fighting: freedom for their families and loyalty to their king and way of life.

So when we hold the door for someone, give a compliment, serve, and treat someone as more important than ourselves, maybe we’re stirred to remember a better world, a world etched on our hearts where the lion lays with the lamb. Devotion to goodness is like breathing on the embers of a dormant fire to see a fresh flame kindled. Light is awakened, restored, and rejuvenated in fresh attitudes and goes on to spread. So I say, up with silly acts of chivalry regardless of the scoffers! Atomic habits of kindness compound to dividends in culture and quality of life.

I invite you to share in the comments any little act of kindness you’ve observed lately.

I wish you a fantastic week!