When therefore the Lord knew that the Pharisees had heard that Jesus makes and baptises more disciples than John
The chapter opens with a report, not a miracle: the Pharisees had heard that Jesus was gaining more followers than John the Baptist. Why did the Son of God answer their jealousy by leaving Judaea, and why does John say that Jesus Himself did not baptize?
The verse names Him in two different ways. One writer notes who uses each name, and how the Lord came to know the report:
Notice "the Lord" used by the writer of the Gospel, and "Jesus" used by the Pharisees. For "the Lord," compare John 6:23, John 11:2, John 20:20. "Knew" — that is, supernaturally.
The same writer points out who actually did the baptizing, and what the Lord already knew was coming:
His disciples had little idea of the depth of the glory in Him, or of the blessing for man that came with it. They baptized eagerly, and so exposed their Master to the spite of those who could hardly bear His increase and honour. Notice that it was not He, but His disciples, who baptized. He knew the end from the beginning. They might baptize people to Him as Messiah. But He, the Son of God, knew from the first that He must suffer and die as the Son of Man. So the baptism He instituted came afterwards, and pointed to His death and resurrection. The Son of God knew what was in man, even when man wanted to honour Him for the signs He did. He knew just as well how His disciples' activity would affect the religious men of that day.
The word order in the verse settles a practical question about baptism:
Do I need to quote John 4:1 to prove how foolish it is to think that baptizing is the means of making disciples? "Jesus was making and baptizing more disciples than John." Baptizing, then, is the outward mark of someone who is already a disciple... We never hear of Peter, or anyone else, going first to baptize; they went to preach, and then those who received the word were baptized.
One writer names the group behind the report and the reasons for their hostility:
Very early, as we have seen, opposition arose (2:18). Now we learn of a group more bitterly opposed to Him than any other: the Pharisees. His teaching condemned their hypocritical practices. And it seems that the spread of the new movement stirred up their jealousy, since people saw Him as its head.
His answer to the whispering was to leave. One writer sees in that a kindness aimed at John as much as at Himself:
John gladly took the place of decreasing so that his Master might increase. The Master withdrew to Galilee so that no one might set up a rivalry, which would have hurt His servant so much. Such was His thoughtful care for John. What is more, treating Him that way would have belittled the Lord Himself. It would have placed Him alongside John as a kind of party leader.
Their jealousy did more than move Him a few miles. It emptied the land of the one thing that made it privileged:
It was the jealousy of the Pharisees that really drove the Lord out of Judaea. What was that land any longer? What was it without Him, above all, when it rejected Him and He abandoned it? They might boast of the law, but they had not kept it. They might claim the promises, but He — the promised One who fulfils them all — had been there, and they did not know Him or love Him. What use was the first covenant to them now? It could only secure their condemnation; it could bring no deliverance.
What closed in Judaea opened elsewhere, and the move was toward freedom, not retreat:
He had left the religious centre of men, so that nothing could hinder His display of grace... In the freedom of His own grace, He goes to the place where He can meet the most wretched heart on earth. He goes there to fill it by revealing Himself.
- Knew — He knew the report supernaturally, just as He knew from the first that He must die. Nothing caught Him off guard.
- Made — the word received makes a disciple; baptism then marks him out. The washing never manufactures one.
- Envied — the Pharisees resented the growing crowd, and His teaching condemned their hypocrisy.
- Withdrew — He refused the role of a rival party leader, sparing John and guarding His own honour.
- Overflowed — jealousy emptied Judaea of its Messiah and carried His grace out to the neediest heart He could find.
(however, Jesus himself did not baptise, but his disciples),
The Pharisees heard that Jesus was baptizing more disciples than John. The writer of the Gospel breaks in to correct them: the baptizing was real, but the hands were His disciples' hands, not His own.
Before asking why He held back, it helps to see what His followers were doing, and what their baptizing meant:
Here at the start we find Jesus with His disciples in Judea, and baptizing. Yet we are told at once that the Lord did not baptize Himself — only His disciples did (John 4:2)... In the New Testament, baptism is always to death. Christian baptism is to Christ's death (Rom. 6:3). To take your place in death is to profess repentance... Yet through His disciples He could confirm this truth, while taking care to keep His own place apart.
The reason lies in what He knew about His own mission:
Jesus did not Himself baptise, for He knew the whole extent of the counsels of God in grace, the true object of His coming. He could not bind souls by baptism to a living Christ. The disciples were right in so doing. They had so to receive Christ. It was faith on their part.
Another writer explains what that rite could reach, and what it could not:
Christ had before Him the counsels of God, to bring sinners into heavenly blessings. So He could not carry out a rite that only linked them with Himself on earth, even though it did separate souls from the guilty nation. For the disciples, at the moment it was right to baptize; for in the faith of their souls they knew Christ only on earth.
The disciples worked with zeal, but their view of Him was smaller than the truth:
The disciples had little idea of the depth of the glory in Him, or of the blessing that would follow for man. They baptized with zeal, and so exposed their Master to the spite of men who could barely stand His increase and honour. Notice that it was not He, but His disciples, who baptized. He knew the end from the beginning... They might baptize to Him as Messiah; but He, the Son of God, knew from the first that He must suffer and die as the Son of Man... So the baptism He set up came after His death and resurrection, and pointed to them.
One writer draws out what the disciples could do, and what only He could do:
The Lord now leaves Judea. He knew what the Pharisees were thinking about His baptizing more disciples than John. The Lord Himself did not do the baptizing. He left that to His disciples. They could bury the dead, but He is the giver of life.
The gift of the Spirit is itself called a baptism. One writer takes the Lord's own conduct here as the proof that the two baptisms must never be mixed:
Baptism with the Holy Spirit is a true initiation into a spiritual state. It must never be confused with any baptism of water. The Lord's own conduct draws that line: "Jesus Himself did not baptize, but only His disciples" (John 4:2).
The same pattern appears later with Peter and Paul, and it settles a question about who may baptize:
Notice in passing that baptizing is in no way a task only a minister may do. It can be quite right and fitting for someone preaching the gospel to baptize. But a case might well arise where the preacher would avoid doing it himself. Paul thanked God that this was so with himself at Corinth. Peter here did not baptize either. He simply "commanded them to be baptized." God is always wise.
- Correction. The rumour said Jesus was baptizing. The writer breaks in: the hands were His disciples'. He kept His own place apart, and through them confirmed the truth.
- Knowledge. He held back because He knew the whole plan of God. No rite could bind souls to a living Christ whose death and resurrection were still ahead.
- Timing. For the disciples it was right at that moment, because they knew Him only on earth. The baptism He set up came after His death, and pointed to it.
- Distinction. He did not baptize with water, and that draws a line no one should erase. Water baptism is one thing. Baptism with the Spirit is another.
- Delegation. What He left to others, others may do. Baptizing needs no special office. Giving life He kept to Himself.
he left Judaea and went away again unto Galilee.
This verse records a movement, not a miracle. The Son of God turns His back on Judea. That short travel note opens the whole chapter: it is how a Samaritan woman at a well came to meet the Messiah of Israel.
The Pharisees had heard that His disciples were baptizing crowds. Their jealousy is what moved Him. One writer asks what that land was worth once He left it:
It was the jealousy of the Pharisees, then, which in reality drove the Lord from Judaea. What was that land any longer? What was it without Him, above all, when it rejected Him and He abandoned it? They might boast of the law, but they had not kept it. They might claim the promises, but He had been there — the promised One, the One who fulfils all the promises. They did not know Him. They did not love Him. More and more they showed how estranged their hearts were from Him, their Messiah. What could the first covenant do for them now? It could only ensure their condemnation; it could work no deliverance. These proud religious men saw in Him only a man. They never suspected that He was the Word become flesh.
He was leaving no ordinary place:
After the introductory chapters, the Gospel of John begins by showing us Jesus leaving Judea. He leaves the Jewish capital, the centre of the throne of God on the earth. It was the ancient seat of Him who had now come down in grace, and who could not find where to lay His head in an unfriendly world.
Leaving that circle carries a lesson for us:
He had left the religious centre of men, so that nothing would hinder His display of grace. And you can depend on it: if you want to reach and enjoy the truth of God, you have to leave human religion in every shape behind.
He did not walk away coldly:
Men did not believe on Him because of the miracles He did. Instead the Pharisees grew jealous. So the Son of God in sorrow turns His back on that Judea to which He came from God. He felt it, as He always did. It could not be otherwise; it ought not to be otherwise. Love could not help feeling it. It was not just that they rejected Him. He felt for them as they threw away their own mercies, rejecting God Himself — rejecting Him, their Messiah. Yet this very rejection leads Him to display such grace as Judea had never heard of.
One writer traces what came of that withdrawal:
He knew they were aware that His disciples were making and baptizing many on His behalf. He knew this would draw out hostility, so He withdrew from among them. He went towards Galilee, and had to go through Samaria. There He met the woman and ministered blessing to her soul, which resulted in blessing for many others also. If some reject His grace, their unbelief does not dry up the channel, but diverts it: others get it.
His road to Galilee ran through Samaria:
He was weary, so He sits down outside the town at the edge of the well. He had to go that way. But this necessity gave occasion for the working of that divine grace which filled His Person. That grace overflowed the narrow limits of Judaism.
Another writer puts the same point about the route more directly: the way He took was not only about the map.
His route to Galilee lay through Samaria and He had to pass that way. This was not only because of where these two regions lie, but to accomplish a work in a woman and in others who belonged to the city of Sychar.
Where He went matters too:
Christ knew that, for the time, His earthly Kingdom was set aside. So He leaves Judaea to go into Galilee of the Gentiles (Matthew 4:15), to teach us truths that are for all the world.
- Cause — the jealousy of the Pharisees over His growing number of disciples drove the Lord out of Judea.
- Cost — He felt the rejection. He was leaving the Jewish capital, the centre of God's throne on earth, with nowhere to lay His head.
- Channel — unbelief in one place does not dry up grace. It diverts it, and others get what one group refused.
- Course — the road through Samaria looked like plain geography. In fact it was the occasion for grace to overflow the limits of Judaism and reach a woman at a well.
- Compass — He heads for Galilee of the Gentiles, and what He teaches from there is for all the world, not one nation.
And he must needs pass through Samaria.
Between Judea and Galilee, John records one word about the route — a "must." Was it simply the shortest road? Or was something else drawing Him to a well in Samaria?
The plain reading is a matter of maps: Samaria lay between Judea and Galilee. But the road also brought Him to one particular town. Commentators read a second reason behind the first.
The direct route to Galilee ran through the district of Samaria, so He "had to go" that way. That was a matter of geography. But there was also a necessity tied to the grace of God. It set Him on a road that brought Him to one particular city of Samaria, called Sychar.
Others push further. The shortest road was not the only road open to a Jewish traveller.
Why did He have to pass through Samaria? It is true that the direct route to Galilee ran through Samaria. But strict Jews took other routes, to avoid a people they despised. So the need was not a question of roads and countries. May we not say instead that the need was in the heart of God? Before the world was made, God had purposed blessing for a poor sinful woman in Samaria. To win that soul and gladden the heart of God, Jesus had to go through Samaria.
Commentators differ here. One writer takes the necessity as practical, while still allowing God's purpose behind it:
The "must" in chapter 4:4 is a practical one. The straight way was through Samaria, and the Jews usually went that way, though they did not stop in Samaria as they passed. I would not say He went on purpose to meet this woman — though it was God's purpose that He should.
He did not leave Judea by choice. The same writer who calls the necessity practical still sees the move as an opening for something larger.
Now, in John 4, Jesus is driven away by the jealousy of the Jews. He begins His ministry outside that people, while still recognising their true place in God's dealings. He goes away into Galilee, but His road led Him past Samaria... Being weary, He sits down outside the town at the edge of the well — for He had to go that way. But this necessity gave occasion for the working of that divine grace which was in the fullness of His Person, and which overflowed the narrow limits of Judaism.
Rejection in one place did not shut down His work; it redirected it.
He went towards Galilee, and had to go through Samaria. There He met the woman and brought blessing to her soul, and that brought blessing to many others too. If some reject His grace, their unbelief does not dry up the channel — it diverts it, and others get it.
Samaria was not neutral ground. Jews kept apart from Samaritans. One writer argues they were right to do so, which makes the Lord's place on that road all the more striking.
The Jews were acting in consistent righteousness when they refused all dealings with the Samaritans... They were to be God's witnesses against the world. They were the clean, kept separate from the unclean, as a testimony to the righteousness of God against a corrupted earth. But Jesus was now standing apart from Israel. He had left Judea, the place of righteousness, and stood in defiled Samaria as Son of God, the Saviour of sinners. He had already gone to Judea looking for righteousness, the proper fruit of that country, and had not found it. He is not going to look for it in Samaria either. Here He must act in another way altogether — in the way of grace only.
At the well two tired people meet. One writer sets their contrast side by side.
She too was weary, as her words soon show. She was alone, as He was alone — but that only makes the contrast greater. She was in the sin that leaves a person isolated, shamed and condemned; He was in the unique glory of His Person and of His search... They were at opposite extremes, on opposite paths, and yet they met. It was not by her will or her planning, and she did not know what lay ahead of her. On His side it was the love that carried its own necessity: "He had to pass through Samaria."
- Must (1). On the surface the word is geography: the straight road from Judea to Galilee ran through Samaria.
- Must (2). Writers see a second necessity too: grace steering Him to one town, one well, one woman. Commentators differ on how far to press this.
- Must, not merit. Samaria was the place Jews avoided. He came there not to look for righteousness, but "in the way of grace only."
- Must, redirected. Jealousy in Judea pushed Him out. Unbelief did not dry up the stream of blessing; it diverted it, and others received it.
- Must, and met. She came for water by her own will; He came by love's own necessity — and their opposite paths crossed at the well outside Sychar.
He comes therefore to a city of Samaria called Sychar, near to the land which Jacob gave to his son Joseph.
Jesus leaves Judea for Galilee, and the road takes Him into Samaria, a country the Jews avoided. The verse reads like a travel note, yet the route, the town and the field once given to Joseph each carry weight.
The map explains part of the journey, but not the stop.
The direct route to Galilee lay through the district of Samaria, so geography alone meant He "had to pass through". But there was a second necessity too, one connected with the grace of God. It set Him on a road that brought Him to one particular city of Samaria, called Sychar.
The town lay near Shechem, and one feature of it has outlasted everything around it.
He reached Sychar, now Askar, about a mile east of Shechem, which is now called Nablus. Close to that city was Jacob's well, and through all the country's changes it has remained to this day. Generations may come and go, dynasties rise and fall, but wells remain from generation to generation. Springs are plentiful in that district by Shechem, yet Jacob dug his own well. That would make him independent of the usual water supply in the country. It may also have marked out his ownership of that piece of land.
The field was bought land, and it ended up being Joseph's burial place. One writer draws out the irony of the setting.
We find the Lord now at Sychar, a name that means "purchased". The town took its name from the piece of land Jacob bought from the sons of Hamor and gave to Joseph, who was buried there. So all that Jacob had bought — though he meant it otherwise — and all that he could give to his best-loved son, was a grave. It was a good place to speak of another gift and another purchase, free to all who wanted it and looked for it: a spring of life instead of a place of death. Jacob's spring could be both a picture of that new spring and — as every picture must be — an instructive contrast to it.
That grave points forward:
Joshua 24:32 speaks of the piece of ground in verse 5. It was Joseph's burial place, and his father Jacob had bought it. Joseph's death is a picture of the death of the Lord Jesus, and that death is the very basis for giving the water of life to guilty sinners.
Why does this verse name Joseph? One writer traces the answer back to Genesis 49.
Joseph is a well-known picture of Christ… Take, for example, John 4:6. Why does it say that "Jacob's well was there"? Surely to catch our attention in some special way; and Genesis 49:22 uncovers the secret. Joseph, we read, is a fruitful bough, a fruitful bough by a well, whose branches run over the wall. So in this tired Man, who sat by the well of Sychar in the noonday heat, we see the true Joseph. Even while we look at Him, we see His branches running over the wall of Judaism, reaching this poor woman of Samaria with their good fruit.
The people living around Jacob's field were not simply foreigners; they were the product of a mixed settlement recorded in 2 Kings.
The Samaritans of the Lord's day were rightly seen as a corrupt race. 2 Kings 17:24-41 records the beginning of their history. After Assyria carried away the ten tribes, its king resettled the land with men from Babylon and other pagan cities… The result was a corrupt people who "feared the LORD but also served their own gods". So they had some dim knowledge of the Lord, and of the Messiah who was coming.
The Jews had a real reason for keeping clear of Samaritans. That is what makes the Lord's presence in this town so striking.
When the Jews refused all dealings with the Samaritans, they were acting in keeping with righteousness… They were to be God's witnesses against the world… But Jesus was now standing apart from Israel. He had left Judea, the place of righteousness. He stood in defiled Samaria as Son of God, the Saviour of sinners. He had already gone to Judea looking for righteousness, the proper fruit of that country, but had not found it. He is not now to look for it in Samaria. Here He must be in another way altogether, in the way of grace only.
- Necessity — Samaria was the direct road to Galilee. The stop at Sychar met a second necessity, one belonging to the grace of God.
- Purchase — Sychar means "purchased". Jacob bought this ground, and it became the grave of his best-loved son.
- Grave — All that Jacob's purchase could give his son in the end was a grave. That is the fitting place to speak of a free gift and a spring of life.
- Branches — Genesis 49 calls Joseph a fruitful bough by a well, with branches running over the wall. At this well the true Joseph reaches past Judaism to a Samaritan woman.
- Grace — Judea was the place of righteousness, and it produced none. In Samaria the Lord stands on wholly different ground, as Saviour of sinners.
Now a fountain of Jacob's was there; Jesus therefore, being wearied with the way he had come, sat just as he was at the fountain. It was about the sixth hour.
Jesus stops at Jacob's well in Samaria and sits down, worn out from the road. Two questions follow: what does His weariness say about who He is, and why does John note the hour?
The detail is not about travel. The One who made the world felt the world's tiredness in His own body.
The everlasting God, the LORD, the Creator of the ends of the earth, never faints and never grows weary. Yet here He is a Stranger in the land, wearied with His journey. The One who made every drop of water in the universe is Himself a thirsty Man in the world His hands had made. In heavenly glory, angelic hosts had always surrounded Him. On earth He appears as a lonely Man.
Older translations say He "sat thus" at the well. That small word has drawn careful attention.
Houtōs, "thus" — that is, just as He was (compare Mark 4:36). The "wearied," as Zahn says, emphasises His humanity.
His body had reached its limit. His love had not.
He sat just as He was — on the well, wearied, thirsty, hungry. How truly Man He was! In His spirit He felt the hatred and rejection of the Jews with perfect sensitivity. In His body He felt the hardships of life too — the heat of the midday sun, the roughness and the length of the way, the pangs of hunger and thirst. And yet He was God, the giver of living water. He was wearied in body but unwearied in His love. At that well side He found both rest and food in doing the will of Him who sent Him.
Sitting on the well, the Maker of the world had no way to reach the water Himself.
He was weary with His journey and sat alone in the world — what an astonishing place! This was the world He had created. More than that, it was the world He had come into in love. And here He is only a weary Man, feeling the rejection of His love. In the place He had taken, He depended for a drink of water on this poor sin-wearied woman — He who had made the water. Grace is in the humbled and obedient Man — that is where what God is shines out.
Commentators differ on the clock here. Some read it as midday, and find in that heat the reason a woman would come to draw water alone.
It is the sixth hour — twelve o'clock. The sun, at its height, was pouring its burning rays on the ground. That is the moment the Lord chooses to pass that way, to meet that soul. The Spirit records the fact. And why? Because that was not the time when women in the East went out to draw water. That was done in the morning, or in the evening, when the heat was not so great (Genesis 24:11). But this woman comes out in the middle of the day... Her sin had isolated her.
Others read the hour as six in the evening, and point to the rest of the chapter.
The time seems to have been six in the evening, for the disciples had gone away into the city to buy food, which might have been for the evening meal. After this the Lord went into the city, and many of the Samaritans believed. They asked Him to stay with them. That was a kindness often shown in the East when the day was far spent.
Why does John mention the well at all? One writer finds the answer in an old picture of Joseph.
Why is it mentioned, "Now Jacob's well was there"? Surely to catch our attention in some special way; and Genesis 49:22 uncovers the secret. Joseph, we read, is a fruitful bough, a fruitful bough by a well, whose branches run over the wall. So in this wearied Man who sat by the well of Sychar, we see the true Joseph. Even while we look at Him, we see His branches running over the wall of Judaism. They reach this poor woman of Samaria with their good fruit.
- Weary — and truly Man. Hunger, thirst and tiredness belong to a real human body. The Creator who never grows weary sat down worn out in the world He had made.
- Weary — just as He was. He sat down just as the journey had left Him.
- Weary — yet unwearied. His body gave out; His love did not. Rejected at Jerusalem, He found rest and food in doing His Father's will at a Samaritan well.
- Weary — and therefore asking. Sitting there, He depended on a sinful woman for a drink. Grace shines out through the humbled, obedient Man.
- Weary — and reaching over the wall. At Jacob's well we see the true Joseph. His branches run over the wall to reach a Samaritan woman.
A woman comes out of Samaria to draw water. Jesus says to her, Give me to drink
A tired traveller sits by a well in Samaria and speaks first to a woman who has come alone to draw water. His four-word request raises the question of who really needs help here — and who is really giving.
The Creator sat there depending on His own creation for a drink:
Just think of the Lord Himself. None of the rulers of this world knew Him, yet He was the Lord of glory. He sat there weary on the well, thirsty, depending on this world for a drink of water — the world He Himself made, and it did not know Him! And now He depends on this woman for a drink of water.
His weariness was not only in His body:
He sat there — just as He was — on the well, weary, thirsty, hungry. How truly Man He was! In His spirit He felt the hatred and rejection of the Jews with perfect sensitivity. In His body He felt the hardships of life too: the heat of the midday sun, the rough and long road, the pangs of hunger and thirst. And yet He was God, the giver of living water. He was wearied in body but unwearied in His love.
He had the power to meet His own thirst another way:
He simply says, "Give me a drink." Why did He ask for a drink of water? The well was deep, and He had nothing to draw with. But could He not have worked a miracle to quench His thirst? For others He works miracles of grace. Yet we never read that He worked a miracle to meet His own needs. There is only one answer. The eternal Son, sent by the Father to be the Saviour of the world, stoops in the greatness of His way to owe a fallen woman a cup of cold water — and so to win the confidence of her lonely heart.
His request was aimed at something deeper than thirst:
The One who made the heart knows perfectly the way into its affections… God, in the lowliness of a man, asks the Samaritan woman for a favour, a drink of water. But it was to open her heart to her own needs, and to give her eternal life in the power of the Holy Spirit.
She came out to the well alone. One writer traces that solitude to her sin:
Her sin had cut her off. Her sin drove her into complete loneliness. She avoided the faces and company of people, and went out to be alone — but she walked into the company of God. She avoided the face of man, because she feared his frown and his judgment. But see the grace of Christ: He goes to that place at the very moment He knew He would meet her.
Her answer was surprise, not water. One writer sets it beside Rebekah, a woman asked for a drink at a well long before:
The Lord broke the silence with the simple request, "Give me a drink." Those few words opened the way for everything that followed. Asked by this stranger to meet His need, she answered with surprise… How differently Rebekah had acted, when a stranger asked her for water (Genesis 24:18). But in her day religious argument had not soured people's minds, or made them forget ordinary courtesy.
Everything turns on knowing who is asking.
Here is the great truth, and not knowing it ruins the world. People do not know who it is that asks them for a drink… still asking a favour of them. The difference the world does not see is this: it is the Son of God who humbles Himself like this to ask sinners to come. It is the Lord of glory doing it.
His poverty was what made her rich:
He became a poor, needy, lonely man by a well side. That was how He reached a poor fallen woman and brought heaven's best gifts to earth's worst sinners. At the very moment He is enriching us with a fountain of water springing up to eternal life, He Himself has become so poor that He must ask for a drink of water.
- Weary — He sat just as He was — hungry, thirsty, tired in body, feeling rejection in His spirit. Yet His love never tired.
- Asking — He worked miracles for others but never for Himself; He chose to owe a fallen woman a cup of water.
- Winning — The One who made the heart knows the way into it; asking her for a favour was how He opened her own need to her.
- Crossing — Grace crossed the border between Jew and Samaritan, into a place where religious argument had killed plain courtesy.
- Giving — The Beggar at the well is the Giver of living water; the world's ruin is not knowing who it is that asks.
(for his disciples had gone away into the city that they might buy provisions).
John pauses the conversation at the well to explain why Jesus was alone when the woman arrived. That everyday errand raises real questions about the One who needed food, and about why He wanted to be alone.
One writer sees the Lord's own choice behind it. Sending the disciples away served two purposes at once:
Weary, hungry and thirsty, He sat at the well side. His power upholds the planets in their tireless courses, and His opened hand satisfies the need of every living thing. Yet He sat there at the well, waiting and alone. He was waiting because at that hour a solitary sinner came to that place, weary, hungry and thirsty in another sense. It was His Father's will that He should meet and bless her there. He was alone because He had sent His disciples away to buy food. That gave them the opportunity of serving Him, and kept them from pushing their unsympathetic presence into the sacred meeting that was to come. Such was His gracious and considerate way with them.
Someone had to buy bread because the Lord needed it. That need shows what kind of body He took:
Birth and growth, eating and drinking, hunger and thirst, weariness and sleep all belong to the human body. They appear here in connection with the body of the Lord. They prove how real the body He took was, and how truly it was marked by all that is characteristic of the human body, sin apart.
The scene has Him both wanting a drink and wanting a meal at the same moment:
Coming to Jacob's well, and being "wearied with His journey", He sat on the well-side. Not only is He weary, but thirsty; for He asks the woman, who at this moment comes to the well, to give Him water to drink. Moreover, since the disciples have gone into the neighbouring city to buy food, the Lord is alone.
Jews avoided dealings with Samaritans, yet the disciples went into a Samaritan town to buy food. One writer explains the old rule, and what had changed:
It was quite consistent with righteousness that the Jews refused all dealings with the Samaritans. It was according to their calling to say, "It is unlawful for a Jew to keep company with, or to visit, anyone of another nation;" for this was a testimony against evil, and such testimony was the very trust which Jehovah had committed to Israel... But Jesus was now standing apart from Israel. He had left Judea, the place of righteousness, and was standing in defiled Samaria as Son of God, the Saviour of sinners.
Their absence left the Lord free to deal with one person. One writer sets this meeting beside another one — with Nicodemus, who came to Him at night:
The Lord sat on the well-side about midday, as the time of greatest heat approached. Nicodemus sought Him by night. He sought a Samaritan sinner at midday... Many of us would own that it takes more spiritual skill to deal rightly with an individual than to address a crowd, and makes a bigger demand on our courage.
Commentators differ on the hour. Another writer takes the errand itself as the clue:
The time seems to have been six in the evening, for the disciples were gone away into the city to buy food, which might have been for the evening meal.
So the woman meets Jesus alone:
He is alone with sinners, settling with them the great interests of their souls, in the grace and power of the Son of God. And blessed it is to see this. It is one of the dearest thoughts to us sinners, that we may be alone with Jesus, and that apostles and churches, or fellow-believers and ordinances, are not needed for this business which is to determine our own personal, individual eternity.
The disciples left Him hungry. They came back to find Him satisfied already:
The disciples had left Him, in want of rest and drink and food. He had had none. They return to find Him wonderfully refreshed and satisfied, though the sources of it were too deep for them to enter into: "I have food to eat that you do not know about … My food is to do the will of Him who sent me, and to finish His work."
- Errand. The disciples go to buy food. John records this small detail because it explains why Jesus is alone.
- Hunger. The need for that food was real. Hunger, thirst and weariness prove how human the body He took was, sin apart.
- Barrier. Jews kept clear of Samaritans. Yet the disciples buy food in a Samaritan town, while their Master waits there as Saviour of sinners.
- Alone. Their absence leaves room for a private meeting. No apostle, church or ceremony stands between a sinner and Christ.
- Satisfied. They came back with bread and found Him already fed — His food was to do the will of the One who sent Him, and to finish His work.
The Samaritan woman therefore says to him, How dost thou, being a Jew, ask to drink of me who am a Samaritan woman? for Jews have no intercourse with Samaritans.
Jesus has asked a Samaritan woman for a drink, and her reply is not an answer but a question: how can a Jew ask anything of her? Her surprise rests on centuries of history and a wall between two peoples.
Commentators trace the Samaritans back to the day Assyria emptied the land and refilled it:
The Samaritans of the Lord's day were rightly seen as a corrupt race. 2 Kings 17:24-41 records how they began. After the ten tribes went into captivity, the Assyrian king repopulated the land with men from Babylon and other pagan cities. They lived in the land of the LORD, yet did not fear the LORD, so the LORD troubled them. To deal with this trouble, the Assyrian king sent a priest of the LORD to teach them the ways of the LORD. The result was a corrupt people who "feared the LORD, and served their own gods". So they had some dim knowledge of the Lord, and of the coming Messiah.
God, not human pride, drew the line. He told Israel not to mix with the other nations; the nation then added contempt of its own:
So in reading the Old Testament we cannot miss this: God told His people they were not to mix with other nations. Intermarriage was out of the question. (But this separation was soon abused. Pride entered the heart of that nation, and they began to look down on the Gentiles as dogs. God made the distinction between the Jews and the Gentiles. Looking down on the Gentiles was their own failure, an abuse of God's sovereign grace.)
The Jews were right to keep apart; that was their calling. But Jesus had left that ground and stood somewhere else:
The Jews refused all dealings with the Samaritans, and that was fully consistent with righteousness... They were to be God's witnesses against the world. They were the clean kept apart from the unclean, as a testimony to the righteousness of God against a corrupted earth. But Jesus was now standing apart from Israel. He had left Judea, the place of righteousness. He now stood in defiled Samaria as Son of God, the Saviour of sinners... Here He must be in another way altogether, in the way of grace only.
How did she know He was a Jew?
"A Jew." She knew He was one by His dress.
But that was as far as she saw:
All she saw was a weary Jew, and notice how far short of the truth the woman of Samaria comes. What was the truth? The One who had said, "Give me a drink," was the One who made the well and the water in it. He was the Creator Himself. She did not know it. He knew it. Only the grace He could bring could meet and save her, a needy sinner... There are depths of grace in God that promises cannot express.
Commentators differ on who speaks the last line of the verse:
"For Jews have no dealings with Samaritans." The Revised Version of the Bible treats these words as a parenthesis — that is, as an explanatory comment by the writer of the Gospel. Calvin considered them to be spoken by the woman.
She answers the dispute instead of the request. One writer sets her beside Rebekah, who long before drew water for a stranger at a well:
The stranger asked her to meet His need. She replied with surprise: how could He, a Jew, ask a drink of her, a woman of Samaria? She knew the controversy between the two parties well, and referred to it at once. How different Rebekah's action had been when a stranger asked her for water (Gen. 24:18). But in her day religious argument had not yet soured minds or made people forget ordinary courtesy.
Writers see this meeting as an early sign that the wall would not stand for ever:
In the Gospels, the ministry of the Lord Jesus Himself often gave a preview of the removal of this "wall of partition". Take the woman of Samaria. She could not understand how the Lord, a Jew Himself, could say "Give me a drink" to her, a woman of Samaria, since the Jews have no dealings with the Samaritans... Until this "wall of partition" came down, it was "unlawful for a Jew to associate with or visit anyone of another nation" (Acts 10:28).
- Wall built. The Samaritans began as a resettled, mixed people who "feared the LORD, and served their own gods".
- Wall God-given. God separated Israel from the nations. The contempt added on top was human pride abusing His grace.
- Wall crossed. Christ left Judea, the place of righteousness, and met her in Samaria in grace only.
- Wall misread. She saw a tired Jew and answered with the old argument. She was speaking to the Creator of the well.
- Wall removed. This meeting points ahead: the barrier that made such contact unlawful would come down.
Jesus answered and said to her, If thou knewest the gift of God, and who it is that says to thee, Give me to drink, thou wouldest have asked of him, and he would have given thee living water.
Jesus sits by a well and asks a local woman for a drink. Then He tells her that if she knew who was asking, she would be the one asking Him. His words name two things she does not know: what God gives, and who is speaking to her.
The first half of the verse turns on a word for God's free bounty. One writer sets it against everything people assume about how God deals with them:
God is love, as well as light. Because He is love, He sent His Son to shine in this world, dark as it is through sin. That is not all the love He shows. It is only the beginning of what rises far above every difficulty and need. When it comes to eternal life and redemption, God is not demanding but giving, and giving only. Both are His gift in Christ. The sinner must know Him this way only — not as a receiver but as the Giver. To take any other place would be beneath His majesty. It denies His nature, twists the truth, and leaves no room for love.
The second half points away from the gift to the Person offering it. One writer draws out the cost of not knowing:
They do not know who it is that asks them for a drink. He is still begging them to be reconciled: "We implore you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God." He is still asking them, in the gentlest and most loving terms, to give themselves to Him. He is still in the place of one asking a favour. The point the world misses is this. The Son of God humbles Himself to ask sinners to come. The Lord of glory is doing it. They do not know who is asking them. So they never ask Him for the gift they must have to enter the kingdom of God.
That "if" points to what she did not know:
The Lord's reply shows what the woman did not know: her own need, the love of God, and the glory of the One she was standing before. Had she known, she would have asked, and He would have given. She had yet to learn that God is a Giver in love, and that such is her need that she can only be a receiver in grace.
The water He offers does not come from that well. One writer links it to a later chapter in John:
By "living water" the Lord indicated the Spirit of God, as is quite clear when we reach chapter 7:39. In the previous chapter God's only Son is His gift to the world. In this chapter the Spirit of God is God's gift to the believer. The Son of God gives that gift, and He was the Speaker seated on the well at Sychar. By the Spirit we have the life within, and by Him the life within springs up to the Source of the life above.
Another writer works from the giver's side:
Christ Himself is the giver here, so "the gift of God" cannot be Himself. He makes no claim on her. Her need is a just claim on His gracious heart. Love and need are face to face in this touching scene, and that is always the point of contact.
Everything hangs on one small verb:
"You would have asked Him." She had only to speak to that fountain of living water, and the stream would flow into her parched heart. She might speak to Jacob's well forever, and it would do no good; she must toil to draw. You need only speak to this living well, and the waters will flow.
Why, then, does anyone not ask? One writer traces it to pride:
Jesus our Lord alone showed the great, essential truth in all its beauty — "the gift of God." It was new to people in every condition and age. Every soul needs to face it and learn it for itself: God is the Giver, and He will be nothing else to sinful man. Our pride does not like it. Rich or poor, high or low, we want to earn from Him, and we are unwilling to be debtors to nothing but mercy in Christ.
- Giver. God meets sinners not as a receiver but as the Giver. Any other place would deny His nature and leave no room for love.
- Given. He gives living water. One writer reads it as the Spirit, whom the Son gives to the believer — life within that springs up to its Source above.
- Unknown. The woman did not know three things: her own need, God's love, and the glory of the Person beside her.
- Unasked. People do not know who is asking them, so they never ask Him. Pride would rather earn than owe everything to mercy.
- Answered. Asking is all it takes. Jacob's well demands hard work; this well answers a single word.
The woman says to him, Sir, thou hast nothing to draw with, and the well is deep whence then hast thou the living water?
A woman comes to draw water and hears an offer of living water instead. She weighs the offer by what she can see — no bucket, a deep well — and misses the One making it.
She tests His words against what she can see. One writer follows her reasoning and names what lies under it:
She understands none of the gracious words she had heard; they were not mixed with faith in her heart. So she reasons against them. If the water was to be drawn from Jacob's well, where was the bucket to let down, for the well was deep? … So the mind argues against the Lord, according to the senses or tradition. That is how fatal ignorance of His Person and of the truth is. Circumstances test faith, and unbelief sinks in them. Unbelief gladly seizes on a great name and its gifts — with or without any right to it — in order to slight a greater name, indeed the greatest of all.
Her mind stays on the errand that brought her out. One writer names what she was missing — not a bucket, but the identity of the Man asking her for a drink:
The One who had created the water was there, weary and dependent, so that He might drink it from such a woman — a woman who did not know what she was. … He does not say, "If you knew Me," but, "If you knew who it is that says to you, Give Me to drink." He means the One who has come down so low, getting past all the barriers which kept Him from you. If you knew Him, "you would have asked of Him." … There was the answer: "He would have given you living water." The words seem clear enough. But the poor woman cannot get past the circumstances of her daily work. … she goes no further than her daily toil, though she can see plainly that she is dealing with an extraordinary Person. The Lord was leading her on, and she did not yet know where.
Her complaint about the depth describes more than a hole in the ground. One writer hears her whole life in those four words, and finds every person in them:
What a revelation! There are volumes contained in these four words, "The well is deep." They spoke of a weary existence. She was tired of life. Her own will and her sin had left her heart empty. Despised by all, isolated and abandoned, she came at a time when the well was very empty. And is that not what everyone passing through this world finds? "The well is deep." It gets deeper every year he lives. He has to lengthen the rope he uses to draw the water he longs to satisfy his heart with. That gets harder as time goes on, and the Lord tells us why: "Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again."
She asks where the living water comes from. The answer is not a better bucket but a greater Person:
But what about living water? She understood that to mean running water, not stagnant water. How could that stranger supply it? The well was deep, and He had nothing to draw with. Who was He? Who could He be? … What a story He could have unfolded, had He told her that He had seen Jacob, had wrestled with him, had humbled him, had blessed him! Truly, He was greater than her father Jacob. Jacob dug a well in the ground. He could supply a fountain for the heart.
Her objection assumes that water takes work. Nobody draws this living water up; you ask for it:
"You would have asked of Him." She had only to speak to that fountain of living water. Then the stream would flow into her parched heart. She might speak forever to Jacob's well, but it would be in vain; she must labour at the drawing. You need only speak to this living well, and the waters will flow.
- Deep well. Four words describe a whole life. The world's well gets deeper every year, and the rope never reaches what satisfies.
- No bucket. She measures Christ by the equipment He carries. A mind that judges by the senses argues against His words, because it does not know His Person.
- Daily toil. Christ points her to who is speaking with her. She cannot get past the errand that brought her out, though she senses this Man is extraordinary.
- Greater giver. Her question has an answer standing in front of her. Jacob dug a well in the ground; this Man supplies a fountain for the heart.
- Only ask. Jacob's well makes you work the rope. You need only speak to the living well, and the water flows.
Art thou greater than our father Jacob, who gave us the well, and drank of it himself, and his sons, and his cattle?
A woman came to draw water, and Jesus offered her something she could not see. She answered with the one thing she could see: an old well and the ancestor who left it to her. Her question — is this stranger greater than Jacob? — was meant as a defence. It is also the question the whole scene answers.
She has just heard an offer of living water, and instead of asking for it she cross-examines it. One writer traces how her mind moves from the bucket, to the depth of the well, to the name of Jacob:
She understands none of the gracious words she had heard; they were not mixed with faith in her heart. So she reasons against them. If the water was to be drawn from Jacob's well, where was the bucket to let down, for the well was deep? Did He claim to be greater than Jacob? Or was His well better than the one that long ago supplied Jacob and his household — a well which was now theirs? So the mind argues against the Lord, following the senses or tradition. That is how deadly it is not to know His Person and the truth.
Naming Jacob is more than unbelief. It is a retreat to safer ground. The offer was too large to hold, so she reached for something she had inherited:
The woman, however, falls back on tradition — "the well of our father Jacob." Tradition is what human nature in this world always falls back on. It was an effort to escape from something too vast and deep and divine for her to take in.
The word "our" carries a whole history. Her claim on Jacob was not personal; it was national, and centuries old:
The Samaritans, though a foreign race, had for centuries taken Jewish ground. They had their temple on Mount Gerizim. They had the Jewish scriptures and spoke of "our father Jacob." They took the Jewish hope as their own — the coming of Messiah (John 4:12, 25).
So her question is more than a question. She is not just comparing two men. She is putting her ancestry between herself and the offer.
She adds that Jacob drank from the well, and his sons, and his livestock. She means it as proof of the well's worth. It is also proof of Jacob's limits:
Her wonder rises, and her eyes are fixed on Him. She would learn from Him: who is He? Greater than her father Jacob, it seems. Yet Jacob himself depended on this one well, and so did his whole household.
The great ancestor was as thirsty as she was.
The irony is that the Man she measures against Jacob had met Jacob. One writer draws out the story He could have told her, and then sets the two gifts side by side:
Who was she addressing? A proud, self-righteous Jew? A Jew certainly — but One like no one she had ever met. She could never find His equal… What a story He could have unfolded, had He told her that He had seen Jacob, had wrestled with him, had humbled him, had blessed him! Truly, He was greater than her father Jacob. Jacob dug a well in the ground. He could supply a fountain for the heart.
He never says "yes." He does something better — He takes the well she is defending and shows her what it cannot do:
But the Lord does not tell her how much greater than Jacob He is. He knows how to lead her to find this out for herself. He then tells her what she already knew — that though she drank of the water of the well, she would thirst again. From there He goes on to tell her what she had never heard. If she drank of the water He freely gave, she would never thirst again. That water is a well inside the one who receives it, springing up into everlasting life.
- Greater questioned. She asks if He outranks Jacob while standing in front of the answer. The mind argues against the Lord from the senses and from tradition.
- Greater hidden. "Our father Jacob" is a refuge, an effort to escape what is too vast and deep and divine to take in.
- Greater claimed. Samaria had taken Jewish ground for centuries. It claimed the temple on Gerizim, the scriptures, the Messiah hope, and the family name.
- Greater exposed. Her own evidence sinks her case — Jacob and his whole household depended on that one well.
- Greater proved. Jacob dug a well in the ground. He supplies a fountain for the heart. Instead of arguing, He lets her taste the difference.
Jesus answered and said to her, Every one who drinks of this water shall thirst again;
The woman asked Jesus about drawing water. He turns her question into a verdict on every source of refreshment she has ever tried. His answer sorts all drinking into two kinds: the kind you must come back to, and the kind you never have to come back to.
The point is not that the well water was bad. It was good water. The problem lies in what any created supply can and cannot do.
The water of an earthly spring, however good, like every natural blessing, lasts only for the moment. It quenches thirst, only for the thirst to return soon and again and again. That is the nature of all things seen and temporary. The soul, immortal as it is, needs more to satisfy, and God delights in giving when we look to Him in felt need.
Jesus points to a real well, but He means more than water. Writers read this water as a picture of everything people reach for to fill the heart.
The water of the well, like all earthly joys, of which it is the symbol, can never satisfy. There is no source of lasting satisfaction in earthly things. Money, pleasure, ambition, duties and earthly relationships, if pursued, may provide a moment's distraction or a passing gratification. But they give no lasting satisfaction. "Everyone who does not know Christ has either a disappointed heart, or a heart seeking what will disappoint it" (J.N.D.).
The woman had just said the well was deep. One writer reads that complaint as a picture of ordinary life.
There are volumes contained in these four words, "The well is deep." They spoke of a weary existence. She was tired of life. Her will and her sin had left her heart empty. Despised by all, isolated, and abandoned, she came at a time when the well was very empty. And is this not exactly what every person passing through this world finds? "The well is deep," and it gets deeper every year he lives. He has to lengthen the rope by which he tries to draw the water he would gladly satisfy his heart with. That becomes more difficult as time goes on, and the Lord tells us the reason.
Notice how He teaches. She has just asked whether He is greater than Jacob. He does not answer by claiming a title. He starts with something she already knew.
But the Lord does not tell her how much greater than Jacob He is: He knows how to lead her to find this out for herself. He then tells her what she herself knew: though she drank of the water of the well, she would thirst again. From this He goes on to tell her what she had never heard.
One writer turns this word on Christians themselves.
On every fountain — broken cisterns, are they not? — of man's digging we may write these words. No matter where man turns for refreshment, he fails to find what can truly quench thirst; pleasure, reputation, power, wealth — whatever the heart of man craves — can never satisfy. As in the book of Ecclesiastes, those who worked hardest to draw water out of these wells had to confess "vanity of vanities." Let us as Christians take note of this and refuse what does not satisfy even the world.
She asked for the water, thinking only of saving herself the daily walk. What He said next shows what He was after.
Relief from daily toil was all that she thought of... But He knew her need. He wanted to give her what she really wanted, not what she asked for, so He replied at once, "Go, call your husband, and come here." Conscience must be dealt with before spiritual blessing comes. How wisely, how graciously, He did that!
- Thirst again — the well water was good, but it could not last. Everything seen and temporary quenches thirst only for the thirst to return.
- Thirst again everywhere — money, pleasure, ambition, power, duties, relationships. They all fall under the same verdict.
- Thirst again, deeper — every year he must lengthen the rope. Drawing on this world gets harder as life goes on, not easier.
- Thirst again, and Christians too — write these words over every well of man's digging. Refuse what does not satisfy even the world.
- Thirst no more — He starts with the thirst she already knew. Then He names the gift she had never heard of, and touches her conscience, the place He must deal with before blessing comes.
but whosoever drinks of the water which I shall give him shall never thirst for ever, but the water which I shall give him shall become in him a fountain of water, springing up into eternal life.
Jesus meets a Samaritan woman at Jacob's well. She came for ordinary water, and He offers her a gift that ends thirst for good and becomes a spring inside her.
The woman had told Jesus the well was deep. One writer hears in her words the story of every life spent drawing from the world:
There are volumes contained in these four words, "The well is deep." They spoke of a weary existence. She was tired of life. Her will and her sin had only left her heart empty. Despised by all, isolated and abandoned, she came at a time when the well was very empty. And is that not what every man finds as he passes through this world? "The well is deep," and it gets deeper every year he lives. He has to keep lengthening the rope as he tries to draw the water he longs to satisfy his heart with. That becomes harder as time goes on, and the Lord tells us why: "Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again."
The verse turns on the Lord's own promise: I will give. Nothing in the sentence asks for a contribution from the one who drinks.
Mark well what the living water is: the new life in the power of the Holy Spirit. It springs up in glad and holy worship to the Father, and it flows out in fullness of blessing to men. The Lord does not give it in return for any surrender on our part, or effort that we can make, or price that we can pay. "I shall give," said the Lord, and "If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink."
One writer names the water and says why it is new:
But now in John 4 we get something wholly new. Jesus gives a divine gift ("I will give"): living water that forms a well within, always springing up into everlasting life, so that there shall be no more thirst. This is the Holy Spirit, whom God gives to live in the one who is born again. He is the power and energy of a life in communion with God, its source and end. Here then is a source of joy apart from all circumstances and independent of them. The joy is the deepest kind, and eternal. The source never fails, though at times the joy may be clouded over here below.
The striking word in the verse is in him. What Christ gives is not a supply kept elsewhere and fetched as needed.
We have everlasting life in Him, and we shall never be separated from Him. The man also has a well of water in himself: "The water that I will give him will become in him a spring of water." This is power coming down from God — heaven is brought down into my heart. It is the power of divine life bringing me into fellowship with the Father and the Son. It is nothing short of all that is in God dwelling in me... There is an eternal spring in my own soul. The man drinks it in — he receives it as a thirsty person — and then it becomes in him a well that makes him a partaker of what is in God.
The water does not sit still. One writer sets out what it does in a man, and then through him for others:
He proposes to make men independent of the world... In the same way He also proposes to make them contributors to the deep need of thirsty hearts within the world. To have a deep well-spring of satisfaction within, springing up into everlasting life — this is the upper spring. It rises to its Source and Giver in intelligent appreciation and worship. And then these same refreshing waters flow out in rivers to others for their blessing too — this is the lower spring.
- Thirst — every well of this world must be drunk from again; the rope only gets longer with the years.
- Gift — Jesus says, "I will give." No surrender, effort, or price buys it; thirst is all He asks.
- Indwelling — writers identify the living water as the Holy Spirit, whom God gives to live in the one born again.
- Inward — Christ puts the spring in him: an eternal spring in the soul, not a store outside that he must go and fetch.
- Upward, then outward — the well rises to its Giver in worship. The same waters then flow out in rivers to other thirsty hearts.