This coming weekend is the 3rd Sunday of Lent. In the previous post we went into great detail about the first part of the conversation between Jesus and the Samaritan woman (thru John 4:15). Now we will continue to dive into the details in order to unpack this amazing narrative.

¹⁶ Jesus said to her, “Go call your husband and come back.” ¹⁷ The woman answered and said to him, “I do not have a husband.” Jesus answered her, “You are right in saying, ‘I do not have a husband.’ ¹⁸ For you have had five husbands, and the one you have now is not your husband. What you have said is true.” ¹⁹ The woman said to him, “Sir, I can see that you are a prophet. ²⁰ Our ancestors worshiped on this mountain; but you people say that the place to worship is in Jerusalem.” ²¹ Jesus said to her, “Believe me, woman, the hour is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem. ²² You people worship what you do not understand; we worship what we understand, because salvation is from the Jews. ²³ But the hour is coming, and is now here, when true worshipers will worship the Father in Spirit and truth; and indeed the Father seeks such people to worship him. ²⁴ God is Spirit, and those who worship him must worship in Spirit and truth.” ²⁵ The woman said to him, “I know that the Messiah is coming, the one called the Anointed; when he comes, he will tell us everything.” ²⁶ Jesus said to her, “I am he, the one who is speaking with you.”

Go call your husband. Jesus introduces a new topic in v.16 possibly to provide a fresh angle on his identity: Jesus said to her, “Go call your husband and come back.”  Prior to this, Jesus’ invitation to the woman was couched in the metaphor of living water. Now Jesus’ invitation will be grounded in the woman’s own life.

This coming weekend is the 3rd Sunday of Lent. In the previous post we delved into all might be implied in the simple opening which tells us where and when. We raised the question of whether it was simple geographical information or was St. John providing theological clues and breadcrumbs. Now we begin to consider the dialogue that ensues. The dialogue between Jesus and the Samaritan woman consists of thirteen exchanges, one of the longest dialogues in the Gospel. It is divided into two sections, each section introduced by a request/command by Jesus: (I ) vv.7-15 (“Give me a drink”); (2) vv.16-26 (“Go, call your husband”).

Verse 7 is filled with OT images that figure prominently in the rest of the narrative: “A woman of Samaria came to draw water. Jesus said to her, “Give me a drink.” First, Jesus’ request for water recalls the story of Elijah and the widow of Sidon (1 Kgs 17:10-11). In both stories a man interrupts a woman engaged in household work to request a gesture of hospitality. The parallels between Elijah and Jesus suggest the image of Jesus as prophet, a theme that will occupy a pivotal place in Jesus’ conversation with the woman (4:19).

Second, the scene of a man and a woman at a well recalls the betrothal stories of Isaac (Gen 24:10-61), Jacob (Gen 29:1-20), and Moses (Ex 2:15b 21). John 4:4-42 evokes these betrothal stories in order to rework their imagery, however. The story of the wedding feast (2:1-11) and John the Baptist’s parable (3:29) have already introduced wedding imagery into the Fourth Gospel as images of eschatological joy and fulfillment. It is in that context that the messianic/bridal symbolism has credence. Unlike the OT well scenes, Jesus does not come to the well looking for a woman to be his bride, but for a witness who will recognize the Messiah and bring the marginalized and despised people to faith in Him. In the fact that a Samaritan woman becomes that witness (vv.28-30, 39-42).

The Samaritan woman responds to Jesus’ request with amazement because it violates two societal conventions. First, a Jewish man did not initiate conversation with an unknown woman. Moreover, a Jewish teacher did not engage in public conversation with a woman (“Hence the sages have said: He that talks much with womankind brings evil upon himself and neglects the study of the law and at the last will inherit Gehenna.” p.’Abot 1:5) Second, Jews did not invite contact with Samaritans. The Fourth Evangelist’s aside in v.9 underscores the seriousness of the breach between Jews and Samaritans. A fear of ritual contamination developed into a prohibition of all social interaction.

Instead of answering the woman’s question directly, Jesus invites her to answer her question herself (“If you knew…”). If the woman could recognize the identity of the person with whom she speaks, a dramatic role reversal will take place. The woman would be the one who requests water. “Living water” (hydor zon). As with ańothen from the encounter with Nicodmus, hydor zon has two possible meanings. It can mean fresh, running water (spring water as opposed to water from a cistern), or it can mean living/life-giving water. Once again, Jesus intentionally uses a word with a double meaning..

The Samaritan woman hears only the meaning “running water” in Jesus’ words and so responds to his offer of living water with protests of logical and material impossibility (cf. Nicodemus, 3:4). It is not credible to her that a man who has just asked her for water because he was unable to acquire any for himself should now offer her fresh running water (v.11 a). Her protest leads to a question, “Where then can you get that hydor zon?” (v.11b). This question, like other questions about the origins of Jesus’ gifts (1:29; 2:9; 3:8; 6:5), is ironically charged. The question operates on two levels simultaneously—it makes sense to ask a man with no bucket where he will get water, but the question can also be asked of Jesus’ gift of living water. The irony arises because the reader knows the appropriateness of the question on both levels, but the woman is wary – still clinging to the practical (bucket/deep), but perhaps possessing a sense of the greater things in play (living water).

The woman’s question in v.12 (Are you greater than our father Jacob) is a universally recognized instance of Johannine irony. The immediate source of its irony is clear: for the Fourth Evangelist and most of his readers, Jesus is greater than Jacob, while the woman seems to assume the opposite. (The question is introduced by the interrogative mē in the Greek text, a construction that anticipates a negative reply: “You are not greater than Jacob, are you?” (cf. 8:53)). Since Jesus has no visible means with which to draw water, the woman’s question seems to imply that only a miracle similar to the one tradition attributed to Jacob at Haran could produce the water. The woman’s response to Jesus is a challenge to match the gift of one of the great forebears of the faith.

Jesus responds to the woman’s challenge by focusing on the permanent effect of the two waters on thirst. Jacob’s gift may have been miraculous and its abundance legendary, but it could not assuage thirst permanently (v.13). Jesus’ gift of living water will, however, do just that (v.14): but whoever drinks the water I shall give will never thirst; the water I shall give will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life. 

The contrast between the two waters recalls Isa 55:1-2 (“everyone who thirsts,/ come to the waters”). Jesus’ description of his gift of water in v.14 clarifies the meaning of the expression “living water”: Jesus offers water that gives life. Those who drink from Jesus’ water “will never thirst” (lit., “will not be thirsty forever”), because his water will become “in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life” (v.14). In John 7:37-39 Jesus’ gift of living water is associated with the gift of the Spirit, and it is possible to see that connection in v.14 as well.

The Samaritan woman responds enthusiastically to Jesus’ words (v.15a), but her enthusiasm misses the point. The motivation for her request—that she would no longer have to come back to the well (v.15b)—shows that she has not yet grasped the radical nature of Jesus’ gifts. She continues to see Jesus through her categories of physical thirst and miraculous springs, and so she does not understand the meaning of his “living water.” Her request is ironic to the reader, because it is the right request for the wrong reasons (cf. 6:34).

On the one hand, then, v.15 sounds a note of failure. Although by her request for water the Samaritan woman is seemingly doing what Jesus had earlier said she should do (v.10) – yet she does not know for what she is asking or of whom she is asking it. She thinks that Jesus is a miracle worker who can provide her with extraordinary water. Her misperception is the source of the irony of her response for the reader, because the conversation has led the reader to see that something more is at stake in these verses.

On the other hand, v.15 sounds a note of hope, however embryonic: The woman said to him, “Sir, give me this water, so that I may not be thirsty or have to keep coming here to draw water.” The woman has gained considerable ground in this conversation. She has moved from seeing Jesus as a thirsty Jew who knowingly violates social convention to seeing him as someone whose gifts she needs. At the beginning of the conversation, Jesus’ words about living water seemed preposterous to her, empty boasts by a man without a bucket (v.11), but in v.15, she believes that Jesus can give water that will assuage her thirst. The woman’s openness to Jesus and her willingness to engage him in conversation stand in marked contrast to Nicodemus, who only greeted Jesus with amazement and resistance (3:4, 9). The Samaritan woman recognizes neither Jesus’ true identity nor the fullness of his gifts, but in v.15, she is willing to receive what she thinks he is offering and hence to acknowledge her need of him.

Christ and the Woman of Samaria | Pierre Mignard, 1681 | The North Carolina Museum of Art, Raleigh | PD

This coming weekend is the 3rd Sunday of Lent. In the previous post we quickly reviewed the religious and political history of the Samaritans in order to place this story in stark contrast to what came before: when Jesus spoke with Nicodemus (3:1-21), he spoke with a named male of the Jewish religious establishment, a “teacher of Israel.” When Jesus speaks to the Samaritan woman, he speaks with an unnamed female of an enemy people.

 ⁵ So he came to a town of Samaria called Sychar, near the plot of land that Jacob had given to his son Joseph. ⁶ Jacob’s well was there. Jesus, tired from his journey, sat down there at the well. It was about noon.

As O’Day [565] notes, the introduction provides the setting for the narrative. Verse 4 links the Samaritan text to vv.1-3; to get from Judea to Galilee (4:3), Jesus “had to go through Samaria.” Scholars are divided on whether the necessity of this Samaritan journey is strictly geographical or has theological overtones. The geographical necessity of the trip is supported by Josephus who notes that the most expedient route from Judea to Galilee during the first century was through Samaria; however, there is ample support to indicate crossing the Jordan so as to not enter Samaria was also routine. The word translated as “had to” (edei), however, usually is associated in the Fourth Gospel with God’s plan (e.g., 3:14, 30; 9:4). It seems best, therefore, to read the necessity of the journey through Samaria as both geographical and theological. Jesus’ itinerary may have been governed by geographical expediency, but his stay in Samaria was governed by the theological necessity of offering himself to those whom social convention deemed unacceptable.

Verses 5-6 provide a detailed description of the location of Jesus’ conversation with the woman. This description is important because of the OT imagery in which the geography is couched. The references to Jacob and his well introduce the patriarchal traditions that will figure prominently in the conversation between Jesus and the Samaritan woman (vv.11-14). The description of Jesus’ arrival at the well (v.6b) also establishes the conditions of his request for water in v.7. Jesus was tired from his journey, and he arrived at the well in the heat of the day (“about noon;” lit. “about the sixth hour”).

Eisegesis is the process of (mis)interpreting a text in such a way that it introduces one’s own ideas into and on top of the text. It is difficult to know what to make of the literal expression “the sixth hour.” In John’s narrative, when he points to a specific hour it is an indication that he wants the reader to pay close attention. What is not clear is why this encounter between Jesus and the woman happens midday. The women of the developing world typically see the timing of the meeting as a sign that the woman is an outcast in her own village. Water is usually drawn from the well at sunrise and sunset, outside the heat of the day. It is the place/time when women gather to meet, chat and have community. Someone who comes at noon to draw water is either avoiding the others, is unwelcomed to the community of women, has been formerly shunned, or just happens to need water at that time of day. Eisegesis is to insist on one of the first three choices. And that may well be the correct reading, but exegesis (following where the text leads) is always preferable.

Christ and the Woman of Samaria | Pierre Mignard, 1681 | The North Carolina Museum of Art, Raleigh | PD

This coming weekend is the 3rd Sunday of Lent. In the previous post we refreshed our understanding of the encounter between Nicodemus and Jesus as a prelude to the encounter with the Samaritan Women.

In John 4:4-42, Jesus’ ministry enters a new stage. He leaves the confines of traditional Judaism and turns to those whom his Jewish contemporaries reckoned as outsiders and enemies: the Samaritans. The breach between Jews and Samaritans can be traced to 10 of the 12 tribes of Israel withdrawing from the throne of David in Jerusalem upon the death of King Solomon. They formed a competing confederation building a new capital city and a new temple (Mt. Gerizim), claiming that this was the true place of worship of God. To the people of the south (Judah) they were traitors and heretics. 

When the Assyrian Empire conquered the north some 200 years after the division (721 BCE; see 2 Kings 17), there was likely little sympathy in the south. But it was 500 years later that the rivalry intensified when the armies of Judah marched north and destroyed the Temple at Gerizim. It did little but to deepen and inflame the divisions as witnessed in John 4:9: “For Jews use nothing in common with Samaritans.”

When Jesus meets the Samaritan woman at the well, he meets someone who stands in marked contrast to all that has come before in this gospel. When Jesus spoke with Nicodemus (3:1-21), he spoke with a named male of the Jewish religious establishment, a “teacher of Israel.” When Jesus speaks to the Samaritan woman, he speaks with an unnamed female of an enemy people.

This long passage of the encounter at the well consists of two main blocks of conversation (vv.7-26_, Jesus and the Samaritan woman, and vv.31-38, Jesus and his disciples) surrounded by their narrative frames. The structure of the text can be outlined as follows:

4:4-6 Introduction: Jesus’ arrival at the well
4:7-26 Conversation between Jesus and the Samaritan woman
4:27-30 Transition: Arrival of the disciples and departure of the woman
4:31-38 Conversation between Jesus and his disciples
4:39-42 Conclusion: Jesus and the Samaritan townspeople

Christ and the Woman of Samaria | Pierre Mignard, 1681 | The North Carolina Museum of Art, Raleigh | PD

This coming weekend is the 3rd Sunday of Lent in lectionary cycle A. The gospel account is that of the Samaritan Woman at the well (John 4:4-52). It is a long passage and on several days there are two posts. In addition the Tuesday and Wednesday posts are fairly lengthy because St. John has just packed so much into the telling of the encounter. Today’s post is going to provide some context. I’d suggest that while the story stands on its own, it is best read with an eye toward the story that precedes it: Jesus’ encounter with Nicodemus. It then stands as bookends framing the whole of Jesus’ ministry even as it is positioned at the beginning of the Johannine telling of the story of Jesus. So, before moving ahead let us review the encounter with Nicodemus so that we understand the deep contrasts between these two protagonists.

Nicodemus was a Pharisee (3:1) and a “teacher of Israel” (3:10) a moniker from which we can infer a number of things: he was Jew by birth, married, and the head of rabbinic school. He was not “the man on the street.” He was someone who was particularly familiar with Scripture and the traditions of Judaism. While within the official ranks of Judaism there was likely already great concern about Jesus because of the incident of the cleansing of the Temple (John 2). Was he another would-be-claimant to the title Messiah whose campaign would only bring the harsh response of the Romans? One suspects their judgment was negative, but it seems Nicodemus was curious – but cautious, and so he approaches Jesus under the cover of darkness (3:2). In John’s gospel, a weak, wavering or incomplete faith emerges from the night or darkness. Nicodemus has been attracted by Jesus’ signs, an attraction not to be despised, yet he remains at a distance from true faith. 

A dialogue ensues, animated by ambiguity and the potential for misunderstanding; a particular feature of Johannine stories. Jesus tells Nicodemus: ““Amen, amen, I say to you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born ańothen.” (3:3). I deliberately left the Greek ańothen in place because the word has dual meanings: “again/anew” or “from above.” In American Christianity which so often opts for “from above,” they lose the nuance of the exchange and the inherent choice being offered to Nicodemus.

The expression “born again” has a context and meaning in Judaism of Nicodemus’ day. One is born again when one converts to Judaism, comes of age, is married, crowned a king, ordained a rabbi or becomes the head of a rabbinic school. Nicodemus has done all these things (that pertain to him) and hence the question: “How can a person once grown old be born again?” There is no achievement or milestone left for him and hence the follow-on: “Surely he cannot reenter his mother’s womb and be born again, can he?” (3:4). Nicodemus apparently does not consider that he is being offered the choice to be born from above. He cannot understand who it is before him and what he offers: two choices, earthly (again) or heavenly (from above), Nicodemus seems to only understand the earthly choice; he does not understand that “without being born of water and Spirit” he will not have eternal life in the kingdom. Nicodemus is being asked to let go of all he knows/believes to be true in order to be “reborn” but from above. 

The expression “born again”  is a slogan, a rallying cry, and a test – “Have you been born again.” It is a short-hand to reduce the contemporary Christian experience to a sound bite. While the phrase has its merits, it is also taken out of the context of a much more nuanced dialogue. It flattens the word ańothen to only be connected to an individual’s private moment of conversion. As Gail O’Day notes, it privileges anthropology over Christology. It is the mistake that Nicodemus makes in not grasping the decisive Christological meaning of ańothen – the source of the change: the cross. And in doing so lose the emphasis of the newness of life possible for which there are no precedents. To approach the text of the Nicodemus story already assured that one knows the meaning/translation, is to repeat the experience of Nicodemus.

To approach the text of the Samaritan women already assured that one knows the meaning is to miss an encounter with Jesus that leads her to the newness of life. But then she is a Samaritan. She is a woman. What could she possibly understand that would elude Nicodemus, the teacher of Israel? The answer lies in the telling of the story.

Christ and the Woman of Samaria | Pierre Mignard, 1681 | The North Carolina Museum of Art, Raleigh | PD