THE ASCENT: FROM THE RIVER JORDAN TO THE MOUNT OF TRANSFIGURATION

JESUS AT THE WELL OF SYCHAR

CHAPTER VIII

(St. John iv. 1-42.)

THERE is not a district in 'the Land of Promise' which presents a scene more fair or rich than the plain of Samaria (the modern El Mukhna). As we stand on the summit of the ridge, on the way from Shiloh, the eye travels over the wide sweep, extending more than seven miles northward, till it rests on the twin heights of Gerizim and Ebal, which enclose the valley of Shechem. Following the straight olive-shaded road from the south, to where a spur of Gerizim, jutting south-east, forms the Vale of Shechem, we stand by that 'Well of Jacob' to which so many sacred memories attach. Here, in 'the parcel of ground' afterwards given to Joseph, [1 The reference here is to Gen. xlviii. 22. Winsche, indeed, objects that this application of the passage is inaccurate, and contrary to universal Rabbinic tradition. But in this, as in other instances, it is not the Gospel, but rather Dr. Winsche, who is inaccurate. If the reader will refer to Geiger's Urschr. p. 80, he will find proof that the Evangelist's rendering of Gen. xlviii. 22 was in accordance with ancient Rabbinic tradition, which was only afterwards altered for anti-Samaritan purposes. On the other hand, this may be regarded as another undesigned proof of the Johannine authorship of the Fourth Gospel.] which Jacob had brought from the people of the land, the patriarch had, at great labour and cost, sunk a well through the limestone rock. At present it is partially filled with rubbish and stones, but originally it must have gone down about 150 feet. [2 The present depth of the well is aboutseventy-five feet. Most travellers have given more or less pictorial accounts of Jacob's Well. We refer here especially to Mr. King's Report (Quarterly Stat. of the Pal. Explor. Fund, Ap. 1879), although it contains the strange mistake that Jesus had that day come from Jerusalem, and reached Jacob's Well by midday.] as the whole district abounds in springs, the object of the patriarch must have been to avoid occasion of strife with the Amorite herdsmen around. That well marks the boundary of the Great Plain, or rather its extensions bear other names. To the left (westwards), between Gerizim (on the south) and Ebal (on the north), winds the valley of olive-clad Shechem, the modern Nablus, though that town is not in view from the Well of Sychar. Still higher up the same valley, the mud hovels of Sebastiyeh mark the site of ancient Samaria, the magnificent Sebaste of Herod. North of the entrance to the Vale of Shechem rises Mount Ebal, which also forms. so to speak, the western wall of the northern extension of the Plain of Samaria. Here it bears the name of El 'Askar, from Askar, the ancient Sychar, which nestles at the foot of Ebal, at a distance of about two miles from Shechem. Similarly, the eastern extension of the plain bears the name of the Valley of Shalem, from the hamlet of that name, which probably occupies the site of the ancient city before which Jacob pitched his tent on his return to Canaan. [a Gen. xxxiii. 18, 19.]

At 'the Well of Jacob' which, for our present purpose, may be regarded as the centre of the scene, several ancient Roman roads meet and part. That southward, to which reference has already been made, leads close by Shiloh to Jerusalem; that westward traverses the vale of Shechem; that northward brings us to the ancient Sychar, only about half a mile from 'the Well.' Eastward there are two ancient Roman roads: one winds south-east, till it merges in the main road; the other strikes first due east, and then descends in a south-easterly direction through Wady Farah, which debouches into the Jordan. We can trace it as it crosses the waters of that Wady, and we infer, that its immediate neighbourhood must have been the scene where Jesus had taught, and His disciples baptized. It is still in Judaea, and yet sufficiently removed from Jerusalem; and the Wady is so full of springs that one spot near it actually bears the name of 'Ainun, 'springs,' like the ancient AEnon. But, from the spot which we have indicated, it is about twenty miles, across a somewhat difficult country to Jacob's Well. It would be a long and toilsome day's journey thither on a summer day, and we can understand how, at its end, Jesus would rest weary on the low parapet which enclosed the Well, while His disciples went to buy the necessary provisions in the neighbouring Sychar.

And it was, as we judge, the evening of a day in early summer, [1 For 'the location of Sychar,' and the vindication of the view that the event took place at the beginning of the wheat harvest, or about the middle of May, see Appendix XV. The question is of considerable importance.] when Jesus, accompanied by the small band which formed His disciples, [2 From the silence of the Synoptists, and the general designation of the disciples without naming them, Caspari concludes that only John, and perhaps Nathanael, but none of the other apostles, had accompanied Jesus on this journey (Chronol. Geogr. Einl. p. 104).] emerged into the rich Plain of Samaria. Far as the eye could sweep, 'the fields' were 'already white unto the harvest.' They had reached 'the Well of Jacob.' There Jesus waited, while the others went to Sychar on their work of ministry. Probably John remained with the Master. They would scarcely have left Him alone, especially in that place; and the whole narrative reads like that of one who had been present at what passed. [1 Caspari (u. s. p. 103) thinks that John only related that of which he himself was an eyewitness, except, perhaps, in ch. xviii. 33, &c.] More than any other, perhaps, in the Fourth Gospel, it bears the mark, not only of Judaean, but of contemporary authorship. It seems utterly incompatible with the modern theory of its Ephesian origin at the end of the second century. The location of the scene, not in Sebaste or Shechem, but at Sychar, [2 It is very characteristic when Schenkel, in ignorance of the fact that Sychar is mentioned by the Rabbis, argues that the use of the name Sychar for Shechem affords evidence that the Fourth Gospel is of Gentile-Christian origin.] which in the fourth century at least had so entirely ceased to be Samaritan, that it had become the home of some celebrated Rabbis; [3 See Appendix XV.] the intimate knowledge of Samaritan and Jewish relations, which at the time of Christ allowed the purchase of food, but would certainly not have conceded it two centuries later; even the introduction of such a statement as 'Salvation is of the Jews,' wholly inconsistent with the supposed scope of an Ephesian Gospel, these are only some of the facts which will occur to the student of that period, as bearing unsolicited testimony to the date and nationality of the writer.

Indeed, there is such minuteness of detail about the narrative, and with it such charm of simplicity, affectionateness, reverence, and depth of spiritual insight, as to carry not only the conviction of its truthfulness, but almost instinctively to suggest to us 'the beloved disciple' as its witness. Already he had taken the place nearest to Jesus and saw and spake as none other of the disciples. Jesus weary, and resting while the disciples go to but food, is not an Ephesian, but a truly Evangelic presentation of the Christ in His human weakness and want.

All around would awaken in the Divinely-attuned soul of the Divine Redeemer the thoughts which so soon afterwards found appropriate words and deeds. He is sitting by Jacob's Well, the very well which the ancestor of Israel had digged, and left as a memorial of his first and symbolic possession of the land. Yet this was also the scene of Israel's first rebellion against God's order, against the Davidic line and the Temple. And now Christ is here, among those who are not of Israel, and who persecute it. Surely this, of all others, would be the place where the Son of David, cast out of Jerusalem and the Temple, would think of the breach, and of what alone could heal it. He is hungry, and those fields are white to the harvest; yet far more hungering for that spiritual harvest which is the food of His soul. Over against Him, sheer up 800 feet, rises Mount Gerizim, with the ruins of the Samaritan rival Temple on it; just as far behind Him, already overhung by the dark cloud of judgment, are that Temple and City which knew not the day of their visitation. The one inquiring woman, and she a Samaritan, and the few only partially comprehending and much misunderstanding disciples; their inward thinking that for the spiritual harvest it was but seed-time, and the reaping yet 'four months distant,' while in reality, as even their eyes might see if they but lifted them, the fields were white unto the harvest: all this, and much more, forms a unique background to the picture of this narrative. To take another view of the varying lights on that picture: Jesus weary and thirsty by Jacob's Well, and the water of life which was to spring from, and by that Well, with its unfailing supply and its unending refreshment! The spiritual in all this bears deepest symbolic analogy to the outward, yet with such contrasts also, as the woman giving to Christ the one, He to her the other; she unconsciously beginning to learn, He unintendingly (for He had not even entered Sychar) beginning to teach, and that, what He could not yet teach in Judaea, scarcely even to His own disciples; then the complete change in the woman, and the misapprehension [a St. John iv. 33.] and non-reception [b ii. 13-iv. 54.] of the disciples, and over it all the weary form of the Man Jesus, opening as the Divine Christ the well of everlasting life, the God-Man satisfied with the meat of doing the Will, and finishing the Work, of Him that sent Him: such are some of the thoughts suggested by the scene.

And still others rise, as we think of the connection in the narrative of St. John of this with what preceded and with what follows. It almost seems as if that Gospel were constructed in cycles, each beginning, or at least connected, with Jerusalem, and leading up to a grand climax. Thus, the first cycle [b ii. 13-iv. 54.] might be called that of purification: first, that of the Temple; then, inward purification by the Baptism from above; next, the symbolic Baptism of water; lastly, the real water of life given by Jesus; and the climax, Jesus the Restorer of life to them that believe. Similarly, the second cycle, [c v.-vi. 3.] beginning with the idea of water in its symbolic application to real worship and life from Jesus, would carry us a stage further; and so onward throughout the Gospel. Along with this we may note, as another peculiarity of the Fourth Gospel, that it seems arranged according to this definite plan of grouping together in each instance the work of Christ, as followed by the illustrative word of Christ. Thus the fourth would, both externally and internally, be the pre-eminently Judoean Gospel, characterised by cyclical order, illustrative conjunction of work and word, and progressively leading up to the grand climax of Christ's last discourses, and finally of His Death and Resurrection, with the teaching that flows from the one and the other.

It was about six o'clock in the evening, [1 We have already expressed our belief, that in the Fourth Gospel time is reckoned not according to the Jewish mode, but according to the Roman civil day, from midnight to midnight. For a full discussion and proof of this, with notice of objections, see McLellan's New Test. vol. i. pp. 737-743. It must surely be a lapsus when at p. 288 (note o), the same author seems to assume the contrary. Meyer objects, that, if it had been 6 P.M., there would not have been time for the after-events recorded. But they could easily find a place in the delicious cool of a summer's evening, and both the coming up of the Samaritans (most unlikely at noon-time), and their invitation to Jesus 'to tarry' with them (v. 40), are in favour of our view. Indeed, St. John xix. 14 renders it impossible to adopt the Jewish mode of reckoning.] when the travel-stained pilgrims reached that 'parcel of ground' which, according to ancient Jewish tradition, Jacob had given to his son Joseph. [2 See a previous note on p. 404.] Here (as already stated) by the 'Well of Jacob' where the three roads, south, to Shechem, and to Sychar (Askar), meet and part, Jesus sat down, while the disciples (probably with the exception of John) went on to the closely adjoining little town of Sychar to buy food. Even this latter circumstance marks that it was evening, since noon was not the time either for the sale of provisions, nor for their purchase by travellers. Once more it is when the true Humanity of Jesus is set before us, in the weakness of His hunger and weariness, [3 Godet rightly asks what, in view ofthis, becomes of the supposed Docetism which, according to the Tubingen school, is one of the characteristics of the Fourth Gospel?] that the glory of His Divine Personality suddenly shines through it. This time it was a poor, ignorant Samaritan woman, [4 By which we are to understand a woman from the country, not the town or Samaria, a Samaritaness. The suggestion, that she resorted to Jacob's Well on account of its sanctity, scarcely requires refutation.] who came, not for any religious purpose, indeed, to whom religious thought, except within her own very narrow circle, was almost unintelligible, who became the occasion of it. She had come, like so many of us, who find the pearl in the field which we occupy in the business of everyday-life, on humble, ordinary duty and work. Men call it common; but there is nothing common and unclean that God has sanctified by making use of it, or which His Presence and teaching may transform into a vision from heaven.

There was another well (the 'Ain 'Askar), on the east side of the little town, and much nearer to Sychar than 'Jacob's Well;' and to it probably the women of Sychar generally resorted. It should also be borne in mind, that in those days such work no longer devolved, as in early times, on the matrons and maidens of fair degree, but on women in much humbler station. This Samaritaness may have chosen 'Jacob's Well,' perhaps, because she had been at work in the fields close by; or else, because her abode was nearer in that direction, for the ancient Sychar may have extended southward; perhaps, because, if her character was what seems implied in verse 18, the concourse of the more common women at the village-well of an evening might scarcely be a pleasant place of resort to one with her history. In any case, we may here mark those Providential leadings in our everyday life, to which we are so often almost as much spiritually indebted, as to grace itself; which, indeed, form part of the dispensation of grace. Perhaps we should note how, all unconsciously to her (as so often to us), poverty and sin sometimes bring to the well by which Jesus sits weary, when on His return from self-righteous Judaea. But these are only symbols; the barest facts of the narrative are themselves sufficiently full of spiritual interest. Both to Jesus and to the woman, the meeting was unsought, Providential in the truest sense, God-brought. Reverently, so far as the Christ is concerned, we add, that both acted truly, according to what was in them. The request: 'Give Me to drink,' was natural on the part of the thirsty traveller, when the woman had come to draw water, and they who usually ministered to Him were away. [a ver. 8.] Even if He had not spoken, the Samaritaness would have recognised the Jew by His appearance [1 According tothe testimony of travellers the Samaritans, with the exception of the High-Priestly family, have not the common, well-known type of Jewish face and feature.] and dress, if, as seems likely, He wore the fringes on the border of His garment. [2 The 'fringes' on the Tallith of the Samaritans are blue, while those worn by the Jews, whether on the Arba Kanphoth or the Tallith, are white. The Samaritans do not seem to have worn phylacteries (Menach. 42 b). But neither did many of the Jews of old, nor, I feel persuaded, our Lord (comp. Jost, Gesch. d. Judenth. vol. i. p. 60).] His speech would, by its pronunciation, place His nationality beyond doubt. [3 There were, undoubtedly, marked differences of pronunciation between the Jews and the Samaritans. Without entering into details, it may be said, that they chiefly concern the vowel-sounds; and among consonants the gutturals (which are generally not pronounced), the aspirates, and the letter ( ) which is not, as in Hebrew, either ( ) (pronounced s), or ( ) (pronounced sh), but is always pronounced as 'sh.' In connection with this we may notice one of those instances, how a strange mistake comes 'by tradition' to be commonly received. It has been asserted that, if Jesus had said to the woman: Teni li lishtoth ('Give me to drink'), a Samaritan would have pronounced it listoth, since the Samaritans pronounced the sh as s. But the reverse of this is the fact. The Samaritans pronounced the s ('sin') as sh ('shin'), and not the sh as s. The mistake arose from confounding the old Ephraimite (Judg. xii. 5, 6) with the Samaritan mode of pronouncing. The suggestion seems first to have been made, through very doubtfully, by Stier (Reden Jesu, iv. p. 134). Stier, however, at least rendered the words of Jesus: Teni li lishtoth. Godet (ad loc.) accepts Stier's suggestions, but renders the words: Teni li lishchoth. Later writers have repeated this, only altering lishchoth into lishkoth.] Any kindly address, conveying a request not absolutely necessary, would naturally surprise the woman; for, as the Evangelist explanatively adds: 'Jews have no dealings with Samaritans,' [1 The article is wanting in the original.] or rather, as the expression implies, no needless, friendly, nor familiar intercourse with them, a statement true at all times. Besides, we must remember that this was an ignorant Samaritaness of the lower order. In the mind of such an one, two points would mainly stand out: that the Jews in their wicked pride would have no intercourse with them; and that Gerizim, not Jerusalem, as the Jews falsely asserted, was the place of rightful worship. It was, therefore, genuine surprise which expressed itself in the question: 'How is it, Thou, being a Jew, of me askest to drink?' It was the first lesson she learned, even before He taught her. Here was a Jew, not like ordinary Jews, not like what she had hitherto thought them: what was the cause of this difference?

Before we mark how the answer of Jesus met this very question, and so as to direct it to spiritual profit, another and more general reflection presses on our minds. Although Jesus may not have come to Sychar with the conscious purpose of that which ensued, yet, given the meeting with the Samaritan woman, what followed seems almost matter of necessity. For it is certain that the Christ, such as the Gospels describe Him, could not have been brought into contact with spiritual ignorance and want, any more than with physical distress, without offering it relief. It was, so to speak, a necessity, alike of His Mission and of His Nature (as the God-Man). In the language of another Gospel, 'power went out from Him;' and this, whether consciously sought, or unconsciously felt after in the stretching forth of the hands of the sightless or in the upward look of the speechless. The Incarnate Son of God could not but bring health and life amidst disease and death; the Saviour had come to seek and to save that which was lost.

And so it was, that the 'How is it?' of the Samaritan women so soon, and so fully, found its answer. 'How is it?' In this, that He, Who had spoken to her, was not like what she thought and knew of the Jews. He was what Israel was intended to have become to mankind; what it was the final object of Israel to have been. In Him was God's gift to mankind. Had she but known it, the present relation between them would have been reversed; the Well of Jacob would have been a symbol, yet but a symbol, of the living water, which she would have asked and He given. As always, the seen is to Christ the emblem of the unseen and spiritual; Nature, that in and through which, in manifold and divers colouring, He ever sees the supernatural, even as the light lies in varying hues on the mountain, or glows in changeful colouring on the edge of the horizon. A view this of all things existent, which Hellenism, even in its sublimest poetic conception of creation as the impress of heavenly archetypes, has only materialised and reserved. But to Jesus it all pointed upward, because the God of Nature was the God of Grace, the One Living and True God in Whom all matter and spirit lives, Whose world is one in design, workmanship, and purpose. And so nature was but the echo of God's heard Voice, which ever, to all and in all, speaks the same, if there be but listening ears. And so He would have it speak to men in parables, that, to them who see, it might be the Jacob's ladder leading from earth to heaven, while they, whose sight and hearing are bound in the sleep of heart-hardening, would see but not perceive, and hear but not understand. It was with the ignorant woman of Sychar, as it had been with the learned 'Master in Israel.' As Nicodemus had seen, and yet not seen, so this Samaritaness. In the birth of which Jesus spoke, he had failed to apprehend the 'from above' and 'of the Spirit;' she now the thought suggested by the contrast between the cistern in the limerock and the well of living water. The 'How can these things be?' of Nicodemus finds its parallel in the bewilderment of the woman. Jesus had nothing wherewith to draw from the deep well. Whence, then, the 'living water'? To outward appearance there was a physical impossibility. This was one aspect of it. And yet, as Nicodemus' question not only similarly pointed to a physical impossibility, but also indicated dim searching after higher meaning and spiritual reality, so that of the woman: 'No ! art Thou greater than our father Jacob?' who, at such labour, had dug this well, finding no other means than this of supplying his own wants and those of his descendants. Nor did the answer of Jesus now differ in spirit from that which He had given to the Rabbi of Jerusalem, though it lacked the rebuke, designed to show how thoroughly the religious system, of which Nicodemus was a teacher, failed in its highest object. But to this woman His answer must be much simpler and plainer than to the Rabbi. And yet, if it be Divine teaching, it cannot be quite plain, but must contain that which will point upward, and lead to further inquiry. And so the Divine Teacher explained, not only the difference between ordinary water and that of which He had spoken, but in a manner to bring her to the threshold of still higher truth. It was not water like that of Jacob's Well which He would give, but 'living water.' In the Old Testament a perennial spring had, in figurative language, been thus designated, [a Gen. xxvi. 19; Lev. xiv. 5.] in significant contrast to water accumulated in a cistern. [b Jer. ii. 13.] But there was more than this: it was water which for ever quenched the thirst, by meeting all the inward wants of the soul; water also, which, in him who had drunk of it, became a well, not merely quenching the thirst on this side time, but 'springing up into everlasting life.' It was not only the meeting of wants felt, but a new life, and that not essentially different, but the same as that of the future, and merging in it.

The question has sometimes been asked, to what Jesus referred by that well of living water springing up into everlasting life. Of the various strange answers given, that, surely, is almost the worst, which would apply it to the doctrine of Jesus, supporting such explanation by a reference to Rabbinic sayings in which doctrine is compared to 'water.' This is one of those not unfrequent instances in which Rabbinic references mislead rather than lead, being insufficiently known, imperfectly understood, or misapplied. It is quite true, that in many passages the teaching of the Rabbis is compared to water, [1 Those who wish to see the well-worn Rabbinic references will find them in Lightfoot and Schottgen ad loc.] but never to a 'well of water springing up.' The difference is very great. For it is the boast of Rabbinism, that is disciples drink of the waters of their teachers; chief merit lies in receptiveness, not spontaneity, and higher praise cannot be given than that of being 'a well- plastered cistern, which lets not out a drop of water,' [c Ab. ii. 9.] and in that sense to 'a spring whose waters ever grow stronger.' But this is quite the opposite of what our Lord teaches. For, it is only true of what man can give when we read this (in Ecclus. xxiv. 21): 'They that drink me shall yet be thirsty.' [2 There is much spurious religious sentiment which, in contravention to our Lord's saving, delights in such expressions as that of St. Bernard of Clairvaux (followed by so many modern hymnologists): 'Qui Te gustant esuriunt, Qui bibunt adhuc sitiunt.' (Ap. Daniel, Thes. i p. 223.) The theology of this is not only sickly, but untrue and misleading.] More closely related to the words of Christ is it, when we read [a in Bar. iii. 12.] of a 'fountain of wisdom;' while, in the Targum on Cant. iv. 14, 'the words of the Law' are likened 'unto a well of living waters.' The same idea was carried perhaps even further, when, at the Feast of Tabernacles, amidst universal rejoicing, water from Siloam was poured from a golden pitcher on the altar, as emblem of the outpouring of the Holy Ghost. [1 See 'The Temple and its Ministry,' pp. 241-243. But the saying of our Lord to the Samaritaness referred neither to His teaching, nor to the Holy Ghost, nor yet to faith, but to the gift of that new spiritual life in Him, of which faith is but the outcome.

If the humble, ignorant Samaritaness had formerly not seen, though she had imperfectly guessed, that there was a higher meaning in the words of Him Who spake to her, a like mixture of ill-apprehension and rising faith seems to underlie her request for this water, that she might thirst no more, neither again come thither to draw. [2 I cannot bring myself to see, as some commentators, any extraordinary mark of rising reverence in the use by her of the word 'Sir' in vv. 11 and 15. It seems only natural in the circumstances.] She now believes in the incredible; believes it, because of Him and in Him; believes, also, in a satisfaction through Him of outward wants, reaching up beyond this to the everlasting life. But all these elements are yet in strange confusion. Those who know how difficult it is to lodge any new idea in the mind of uneducated rustics in our own land, after all our advantages of civilising contact and education, will understand, how utterly at a loss this Samaritan countrywoman must have been to grasp the meaning of Jesus. But He taught, not as we teach. And thus He reached her heart in that dimly conscious longing which she expressed, though her intellect was incapable of distinguishing the new truth.

Surely, it is a strange mistake to find in her words [b ver. 15.] 'a touch of irony,' while, on the other hand, it seems an exaggeration to regard them simply as the cry of realised spiritual need. Though reluctantly, a somewhat similar conclusion is forced upon us with reference to the question of Jesus about the woman's husband, her reply, and the Saviour's rejoinder. It is difficult to suppose, that Christ asked the woman to call her husband with the primary object of awakening in her a sense of sin. This might follow, but the text gives no hint of it. Nor does anything in the bearing of the woman indicate any such effect; indeed, her reply [a ver. 19.] and her after-referenceto it [b ver. 29.] rather imply the contrary. We do not even know for certain, whether the five previous husbands had died or divorced her, and, if the latter, with whom the blame lay, although not only the peculiar mode in which our Lord refers to it, but the present condition of the woman, seem to point to a sinful life in the past. In Judaea a course like hers would have been almost impossible; but we know too little of the social and moral condition of Samaria to judge of what might there be tolerated. On the other hand, we have abundant evidence that, when the Saviour so unexpectedly laid open to her a past, which He could only supernaturally have known, the conviction at once arose in her that He was a Prophet, just as in similar circumstances it had been forced upon Nathanael. [c St. John i. 48, 49.] But to be a Prophet meant to a Samaritan that He was the Messiah, since they acknowledged none other after Moses. Whether or not the Messiah was known by the present Samaritan designation of Him as 'the Converter' and 'the Returner' (Restorer?), is of comparatively small importance, though, if we felt certain of this, the influence of the new conviction on the mind of the woman would appear even more clearly. In any case it was an immense, almost immeasurable, advance, when this Samaritan recognised in the stranger Jew, Who had first awakened within her higher thoughts, and pointed her to spiritual and eternal realities, the Messiah, and this on the strength of evidence the most powerfully convincing to a mind like hers: that of telling her, suddenly and startlingly, what He could not have known, except through higher than human means of information.