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John 4:1-42 - Living Water for Samaria

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John places a profound paradox beside Jacob’s well. Jesus is truly weary and asks a Samaritan woman for water, yet He is the One who offers a spring rising into everlasting life. She arrives carrying an ordinary need and an inherited religious conflict. Christ receives both. He crosses the hostility between their peoples, tells the truth about her life without turning her into a spectacle, and reveals the Father who seeks worshipers. By the end, the woman who came to draw water has called a city, and the city confesses the thirsty traveler as “the Savior of the world.”

The encounter therefore joins truths we often separate: grace and repentance, worship and mission, personal healing and the reconciliation of estranged people. Christ does not wait for the woman to untangle her life before speaking of the gift of God. Neither does He offer spiritual comfort that leaves her hidden life untouched. The living water carries her into truth, and truth opens into worship, witness, and communion with Him.

The Giver of Living Water (John 4:1-15)

1 Therefore, when the Lord knew that the Pharisees had heard that Jesus made and baptized more disciples than John 2 (though Jesus Himself did not baptize, but His disciples), 3 He left Judea and departed again to Galilee. 4 But He needed to go through Samaria. 5 So He came to a city of Samaria which is called Sychar, near the plot of ground that Jacob gave to his son Joseph. 6 Now Jacob’s well was there. Jesus therefore, being wearied from His journey, sat thus by the well. It was about the sixth hour. 7 A woman of Samaria came to draw water. Jesus said to her, “Give Me a drink.” 8 For His disciples had gone away into the city to buy food. 9 Then the woman of Samaria said to Him, “How is it that You, being a Jew, ask a drink from me, a Samaritan woman?” For Jews have no dealings with Samaritans. 10 Jesus answered and said to her, “If you knew the gift of God, and who it is who says to you, ‘Give Me a drink,’ you would have asked Him, and He would have given you living water.” 11 The woman said to Him, “Sir, You have nothing to draw with, and the well is deep. Where then do You get that living water? 12 Are You greater than our father Jacob, who gave us the well, and drank from it himself, as well as his sons and his livestock?” 13 Jesus answered and said to her, “Whoever drinks of this water will thirst again, 14 but whoever drinks of the water that I shall give him will never thirst. But the water that I shall give him will become in him a fountain of water springing up into everlasting life.” 15 The woman said to Him, “Sir, give me this water, that I may not thirst, nor come here to draw.”

John begins with pressure around growing ministries. The Pharisees have heard that Jesus is making more disciples than John, though the Evangelist carefully explains that Jesus’ disciples perform the baptizing. Jesus leaves Judea rather than allowing rivalry to dictate the timing of His work. The previous scene ended with John the Baptist rejoicing that the Bridegroom must increase. Now the Bridegroom carries His saving work into Samaria.

Travel through Samaria was a real route between Judea and Galilee, even though Jewish-Samaritan relations included religious dispute, social suspicion, and episodes of violence.1 John still chooses the striking sentence, “He needed to go through Samaria.” The Greek verb expresses necessity; the same verb appears again when Jesus says that worshipers “must worship” in spirit and truth.2 This repetition can be heard as a literary resonance rather than a lexical proof of a hidden decree. The necessary road brings Christ to an estranged people; the necessary worship He announces gathers people to the Father beyond rival possession of sacred ground.

Meeting at the well

The well is surrounded by Israel’s memory: Jacob, Joseph, land, inheritance, and water. Jesus enters that history in a body capable of weariness and thirst. “Being wearied from His journey” is not a dramatic costume worn by the divine Word. The Son has truly become flesh. Yet the weary Man who asks, “Give Me a drink,” is also the Giver whom the woman must learn to ask. John holds the mystery of the Incarnation in one exchange: Christ receives water according to His humanity and gives divine life from His fullness.

John also marks the hour: about the sixth hour, noon in ordinary reckoning. Nicodemus, a teacher of Israel, had come to Jesus by night (John 3:1-2; compare John 3:1-21). This woman of Samaria meets Him in full light. John is tracking light and exposure, not proving her social standing. The hour cannot tell us why she came. It can tell us that the outsider stands in the open while the insider first approached in the dark.

Meeting a woman at a well is a marked scene in Israel’s Scriptures. Abraham’s servant meets Rebekah at a well (Genesis 24). Jacob meets Rachel at a well (Genesis 29). Moses sits by a well in Midian and is given Zipporah (Exodus 2). Those meetings lead toward betrothal. John has just let the Baptist call Jesus the Bridegroom (John 3:29). Now the weary Bridegroom sits at Jacob’s own well and asks a woman of the nations for water. The type-scene does not turn her into an emblem and erase her life. It shows what kind of meeting this is: Christ comes to claim a people, and the gift He offers is communion, not a private drink.

Encountering Christ

The woman’s surprise is justified. She names three facts that shape the moment: He is a Jew, she is a Samaritan, and He is asking her for a drink. Ancient evidence does not support the crude claim that every Jew always avoided Samaria, but it does confirm sustained conflict over worship and communal identity.1 Jesus does not pretend those differences are unreal. He refuses to let inherited hostility decide whom He may address or bless.

His answer turns her attention from the barrier to “the gift of God” and “who it is” who speaks. The order matters. She sees a thirsty traveler without a vessel. Christ reveals Himself as the Giver whose generosity begins before she understands His identity. Grace awakens the request it intends to answer: “you would have asked Him.” Prayer begins when need meets even a partial recognition of the One before us.

Living Water

The woman’s questions about the deep well and Jacob are sensible within the image she has been given. In ordinary Greek, “living water” can mean fresh or flowing water. Jesus then enlarges the phrase: His water becomes within the recipient “a fountain of water springing up into everlasting life.” The image is active, an inward spring rising toward the life of the age to come.3 Created water is good, and bodily thirst is real, but the deepest human thirst returns because no created gift can become the life of God within us.

The image is also older than this conversation. Through Jeremiah the Lord accuses His people of forsaking Him, “the fountain of water of life,” for broken cisterns (Jeremiah 2:13).4 Ezekiel sees water issue from the house of God and give life wherever it goes (Ezekiel 47:1-9). Zechariah promises that in that day living water shall come forth from Jerusalem (Zechariah 14:8). At Jacob’s well the fountain is no longer a shrine one must travel to possess. The Giver Himself sits there, and the spring will rise within the one who asks.

John has already spoken of birth by water and the Spirit (John 3:5) and of the Spirit given without measure in the Son’s mission (John 3:34). He later identifies the rivers of living water with the gift of the Spirit (John 7:37-39). These sayings belong to one literary and theological pattern: the incarnate Son gives divine life through the Spirit. Yet each image keeps its own force. John 3 speaks of birth, John 4 of an inward spring rising into everlasting life, and John 7 of rivers flowing from the believer; they should not be collapsed into a mechanical equation in which every mention of water names the same sacramental moment. St Cyril of Alexandria reads the promise at the well within this larger pattern: “He calls the quickening gift of the Spirit living water.”5 The Spirit does not offer a passing religious feeling. He quickens a nature dried by sin and makes communion with God fruitful within the person. Christ gives more than enough water for today’s thirst. He gives the Fountain.

For our life

We often ask Christ to remove the repeated trip to the well: solve the pressure, end the loneliness, restore the reputation, settle the family problem, quiet the appetite. He may care for those needs, but He loves us too much to let relief become our god. The first mercy may be the discovery that our deepest thirst has a name. We are thirsty for the life of God, and the Giver is already speaking.

Truthful Mercy and Worship of the Father (John 4:16-26)

16 Jesus said to her, “Go, call your husband, and come here.” 17 The woman answered and said, “I have no husband.” Jesus said to her, “You have well said, ‘I have no husband,’ 18 for you have had five husbands, and the one whom you now have is not your husband; in that you spoke truly.” 19 The woman said to Him, “Sir, I perceive that You are a prophet. 20 Our fathers worshiped on this mountain, and you Jews say that in Jerusalem is the place where one ought to worship.” 21 Jesus said to her, “Woman, believe Me, the hour is coming when you will neither on this mountain, nor in Jerusalem, worship the Father. 22 You worship what you do not know; we know what we worship, for salvation is of the Jews. 23 But the hour is coming, and now is, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth; for the Father is seeking such 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 Messiah is coming” (who is called Christ). “When He comes, He will tell us all things.” 26 Jesus said to her, “I who speak to you am He. ”

“Go, call your husband” brings the promise of living water into the woman’s actual life. Christ asks for truth, receives her truthful answer, and explicitly commends it: “You have well said.” Then He names what she left unsaid. His knowledge serves healing rather than spectacle. The Physician touches the wound without confusing the wound with the whole person.

John tells us that she had five husbands and that her present relationship was not marriage. The reasons the marriages ended, the measure of choice or power she had, and the reason she came at the sixth hour remain unstated. Noon cannot prove that the city had cast her out, and five husbands cannot support an invented biography of sexual notoriety.6 The present disorder is real; the limit of our knowledge is equally real. A faithful reading receives Christ’s truthful judgment and stops where the Gospel stops.

Her reply, “I perceive that You are a prophet,” shows that His knowledge has changed the conversation. Her question about the proper mountain is also historically serious. Mount Gerizim was the Samaritan sacred mountain and the site of a temple destroyed more than a century before this encounter, yet the mountain remained central to Samaritan worship.7 She brings Jesus the dispute carried by her people: “Our fathers worshiped on this mountain,” while the Jews name Jerusalem.

Christ answers both personally and historically. “Salvation is of the Jews” preserves the concrete history of God’s covenant, promises, prophets, and Messiah. Jesus stands within Israel as her Messiah, and the Samaritan confession receives the salvation that comes through Him. The verse gives no shelter to contempt for Jews, just as Samaritan faith gives no ethnic group a claim to moral superiority. The Jewish Messiah crosses the inherited boundary and reveals Himself as Savior of the world.

“The hour is coming, and now is” places the fulfillment in Christ’s own presence. Christ does not award the argument to Gerizim or to Jerusalem. He fulfills both claims by revealing worship in Spirit and truth, in Himself. The rivalry between the mountains no longer controls worship because the Son has come to reveal the Father, and John has already identified Christ’s Body as the Temple that will be destroyed and raised (John 2:19-21). Worship in Spirit and truth is therefore centered in the crucified and risen Christ, the true Temple through whom the nations come to the Father. Jerusalem and Israel’s Temple retain their God-given place in the history now fulfilled by the Jewish Messiah. His risen Body gathers worshipers into embodied communion with God. “Spirit and truth” describes worship made alive by the Spirit and conformed to the Truth disclosed in the Son. The verb for worship can carry the bodily sense of bowing or paying homage, so embodied reverence, liturgy, and sacrament remain fully at home in the passage.8 The grammar of “spirit” alone cannot settle every Trinitarian question; John’s Gospel as a whole gives the phrase its Christian depth.

This is also a searching word for Orthodox worship. Correct rites can be performed while the heart protects resentment, vanity, or unconfessed sin. Private emotion can call itself spiritual while resisting the truth Christ has spoken. The Father seeks worshipers whose whole life is turned toward Him: body and heart, confession and praise, doctrine and mercy, altar and ordinary obedience. The Church’s worship is truly embodied because the Word became flesh, and truly spiritual because the Spirit joins us to the Son’s communion with the Father.

St Cyril of Alexandria reads the passage as fulfillment: “the type shall be transferred to truth and the shadow of the Law to spiritual worship.”9 His point is Christological, not an attack on Jewish people. The signs and promises reach their fulfillment in the Son, and worship is opened through Him to the nations.

Then the woman speaks of the Messiah who “will tell us all things.” Jesus answers with words English often softens: “I who speak to you am He.” The Greek is egō eimi, “I am,” the One speaking to you.10 John will later let this same formula stand in its full force: “before Abraham was, I AM” (John 8:58). Here it already discloses more than a prophet’s title. The Messiah she awaits is present, speaking to a Samaritan woman before He says it so plainly to Israel’s leaders. She is not healed by exposure alone. She is brought before the I AM who tells the truth and gives living water. Repentance becomes life because the One who uncovers the wound is also the One who gives the fountain.

The Church’s Voice in Worship ⛪

The Coptic Church proclaims John 4:1-42 as the Liturgy Gospel on the Sunday of the fourth week of Great Lent and again on the Sunday of the third week of the Holy Fifty Days.11 12 In Lent, the thirsty woman stands before a fasting Church learning that appetite reaches deeper than food. In the Paschal season, the same encounter is the Gospel the wider Orthodox Church keeps as the Sunday of the Samaritan Woman: resurrection life opening into the confession of the Savior of the world. John 4:1-24 is also read in the third Pentecost prostration service, where the Church receives Christ’s teaching about the Spirit, truth, and worship while bending the body in prayer.13

The Church does not leave this woman as an unnamed figure in a story. Later Orthodox remembrance knows her as St. Photini, “the enlightened one,” and honors her as Equal-to-the-Apostles and Great Martyr.14 The Gospel itself does not record that later name or the details of her martyrdom. What it does record is already enough to explain the title: she received light, and she became a witness. The Coptic parish therefore does not merely study a well scene. It keeps, in Lent and in the Fifty Days, a woman the Lord has made a herald.

For our life

Confession begins under the same gaze that offered the gift. Christ already knows the guarded sentence, the unresolved relationship, the excuse repeated in prayer, and the place where religious correctness hides from obedience. He names these things to restore communion, not to humiliate us. We can tell the truth because the Judge at the well is also the Giver of living water.

Witness, Food, and the Ripened Harvest (John 4:27-38)

27 And at this point His disciples came, and they marveled that He talked with a woman; yet no one said, “What do You seek?” or, “Why are You talking with her?” 28 The woman then left her waterpot, went her way into the city, and said to the men, 29 “Come, see a Man who told me all things that I ever did. Could this be the Christ?” 30 Then they went out of the city and came to Him. 31 In the meantime His disciples urged Him, saying, “Rabbi, eat.” 32 But He said to them, “I have food to eat of which you do not know.” 33 Therefore the disciples said to one another, “Has anyone brought Him anything to eat?” 34 Jesus said to them, “My food is to do the will of Him who sent Me, and to finish His work. 35 Do you not say, ‘There are still four months and then comes the harvest’? Behold, I say to you, lift up your eyes and look at the fields, for they are already white for harvest! 36 And he who reaps receives wages, and gathers fruit for eternal life, that both he who sows and he who reaps may rejoice together. 37 For in this the saying is true: ‘One sows and another reaps.’ 38 I sent you to reap that for which you have not labored; others have labored, and you have entered into their labors.”

The disciples return and marvel that Jesus is speaking with a woman. Their unspoken questions show that they can see the breach of convention before they can see its fruit. The woman, meanwhile, leaves her waterpot and goes to the city. The abandoned jar marks the urgency of this moment, not a permanent rejection of ordinary duties. The errand that brought her to the well no longer explains why she is moving.

Her witness is concise and honest. “Come, see” echoes the Gospel’s pattern of invitation. She directs the city to the Man who knew her instead of presenting herself as the expert with every answer. She also names the painful center of the encounter: “He told me all things that I ever did.” What could have imprisoned her in shame becomes testimony because Christ’s knowledge came with a gift rather than contempt.

“Could this be the Christ?” is a restrained question. The Greek particle may ordinarily lean toward a negative answer, yet it can leave a possibility open; the wording cannot disclose the full state of her faith.15 Its narrative effect is clear. She gives the city enough truth to move without coercing them: “Then they went out of the city and came to Him.” Mature witness has confidence without making the witness the destination.

The disciples’ concern about food parallels the woman’s earlier concern about water. Both begin with a bodily need that Jesus takes seriously, and both must learn to see the Father’s greater gift and work. “My food is to do the will of Him who sent Me, and to finish His work” reveals the Son’s obedient love. The work of salvation is not an interruption that makes Him forget ordinary hunger. It is the purpose that sustains His whole mission and will reach its completion in His Hour.

The people leaving the city make the harvest saying concrete within the narrative. The disciples see a Samaritan town where supplies can be purchased. Jesus sees people ready to receive life. “Lift up your eyes” is therefore a command against spiritual blindness. Familiar prejudice, exhaustion, and narrow expectations can place a harvest directly in front of a servant who still sees only inconvenience.

The harvest also destroys ownership. Jesus leaves the earlier laborers unnamed, so identifying them with certainty would exceed the text. His point to the disciples is plain: “you have entered into their labors.” Sowing and reaping belong to one work, and both rejoice together. A servant may inherit the prayer of parents, the tears of a priest, the patience of a teacher, or a kindness whose giver is never known. Christian service receives fruit with gratitude because Christ alone gathers it for eternal life.

St John Chrysostom says the woman “exhibited the actions of an Apostle, preaching the Gospel to all, and calling them to Jesus.”16 He also reads Christ’s food as His earnest desire for human salvation.17 These insights belong together. The woman’s new urgency reflects the Lord’s own: she has met the One whose nourishment is to finish the Father’s saving work, and His love has begun to reshape what she hungers to do.

For our life

A testimony does not require a polished life story or control of another person’s response. It requires truth about Christ. “Come, see” may take the form of opening Scripture with a child, inviting a friend to Liturgy, speaking honestly about mercy received in confession, or listening long enough to recognize the thirst beneath someone’s argument. The faithful witness points, accompanies, and then rejoices when another person begins to hear Christ directly.

Samaria Hears the Savior of the World (John 4:39-42)

39 And many of the Samaritans of that city believed in Him because of the word of the woman who testified, “He told me all that I ever did.” 40 So when the Samaritans had come to Him, they urged Him to stay with them; and He stayed there two days. 41 And many more believed because of His own word. 42 Then they said to the woman, “Now we believe, not because of what you said, for we ourselves have heard Him and we know that this is indeed the Christ, the Savior of the world.”

John honors the woman’s testimony before showing its proper limit. Many believe “because of the word of the woman who testified.” Her word matters. It gets people walking toward Christ. Then “many more believed because of His own word.” Their later statement confirms that her service has succeeded: hearers move beyond borrowed conviction because they have begun to hear the Lord.

The Samaritans ask Jesus to stay, and He remains two days. The conversation began with “Jews have no dealings with Samaritans”; it now becomes hospitality, teaching, and shared presence. The brief encounter at the well opens into His dwelling among people formed by a history of estrangement.

Their confession gives the whole encounter its horizon: “the Christ, the Savior of the world.” They have received neither a private solution for one woman’s pain nor a local prophet bound to one community. The Messiah of Israel is the Savior whose gift reaches the world. Living water cannot be possessed as tribal property, and worship cannot become a weapon for protecting inherited contempt. The world’s Savior creates a people by His word.

Samaria’s reception gives it no moral superiority over Galilee or Judea. The next passage contrasts Samaritan hearing with a Galilean welcome still dependent on signs. John keeps bringing every reader to the same crisis: Will we receive the Son’s word and come to life, or demand that He remain within the terms we already understand? The boundary Christ finally crosses is the defended heart.

St John Chrysostom emphasizes that the Samaritans received Christ through teaching rather than signs. On their universal confession, he says they understood that Christ intended “not to confine His care to the Jews, but to sow His Word everywhere.”18 The phrase describes the reach of divine care without contempt for the people of Israel. The Word first promised within Israel is being sown among the nations, and Samaria has become an early field of joy.

For our life

Samaria does more than admire the woman’s report. The city urges Jesus to stay, and the One who began by asking a Samaritan woman for water accepts Samaritan hospitality. Faith deepens as the people hear His own word and confess together that He is “the Savior of the world.” Our response should have the same room in it: remain with Christ’s word after the first stirring has passed, welcome people whom inherited suspicion taught us to keep at a distance, and receive one another in the communion His presence creates. The world’s Savior does not erase the woman’s testimony; He fulfills its purpose by dwelling among the people she brought to Him.

Spiritual Fruit 🍇

Bring Christ the thirst beneath the repeated habit. The woman asks for water that will spare her another trip, while Christ offers life within. Notice where you keep returning for relief: scrolling when anxious, eating without hunger, needing praise after service, rehearsing an old injury, or demanding control before you can rest. Name the immediate need in prayer, then ask Christ to reveal the deeper thirst. Meet that thirst through a concrete return to Him: ten attentive minutes with the Gospel, the Jesus Prayer when the appetite rises, confession of the hidden pattern, or Liturgy received with prepared repentance.

Let truth become a door to communion rather than a sentence of shame. Christ says, “You have well said,” and then names the disorder. When you are tempted to defend, minimize, or collapse into self-contempt, remember the order of the encounter: the Giver of living water is the One speaking the truth. Bring one guarded fact into honest prayer and, where appropriate, confession. Repentance says, “This is true, but it is not greater than Your mercy or the life You give.”

Refuse to reduce a person to the part of the story that is easiest to condemn. John gives facts about the woman’s relationships without giving us a complete biography. In family life, parish service, and public conversation, resist the appetite to complete another person’s story with suspicion. Speak truth about actual harm when necessary, protect those who are vulnerable, and leave invented motives unspoken. Christ’s holiness never required Him to become careless with a person’s dignity.

Worship with an undivided life. “Spirit and truth” judges both empty correctness and formless sincerity. Before Liturgy, reconcile where you can, confess the resentment you plan to carry to the altar, and ask the Spirit to gather your wandering mind. After worship, let the truth you confessed shape one act of mercy, restitution, or hidden service. The Father seeks worshipers, not performances detached from the person who leaves the church building.

Make room for Christ to stay, and let His word widen your communion. The Samaritans do not leave Jesus at the well; they urge Him to remain with them, hear His own word, and confess Him together as “the Savior of the world.” Notice where a brief spiritual response has become enough: a moving sermon without sustained prayer, admiration for a testimony without opening the Gospel, or a polite greeting across a social boundary without real fellowship. Choose a concrete act of welcome this week. Remain with John 4 in attentive prayer; invite someone outside your familiar circle into a meal or parish conversation; seek peace where inherited suspicion has kept distance alive. Christ stays among a people who make room for Him, and His presence creates communion wider than family, ethnicity, or familiar group.

Footnotes

  1. Jürgen K. Zangenberg, “The Samaritans”, Bible Odyssey. Zangenberg describes a long process of Jewish-Samaritan alienation, shared Pentateuchal heritage, travel, and episodes of conflict rather than one simple universal travel ban. ↩ ↩2

  2. Greek text and morphology for John 4:4 and John 4:24, with the lexical range of dei. The proposed narrative resonance does not claim that the verb alone proves divine necessity in verse 4. ↩

  3. Greek text and morphology for John 4:10 and John 4:14, including “living water” and the spring “springing up” into everlasting life. ↩

  4. Jeremiah 2:13; Ezekiel 47:1-9; Zechariah 14:8, following the Septuagint English of Brenton: the Lord as “the fountain of water of life,” water issuing from the house of God, and living water coming forth from Jerusalem. See Jeremiah 2:13, Ezekiel 47:1, and Zechariah 14:8. ↩

  5. St Cyril of Alexandria, Commentary on John, Book II, on John 4:10-14, trans. P. E. Pusey, paragraph 207. ↩

  6. James F. McGrath, “Woman at the Well”, Bible Odyssey. McGrath challenges the unsupported portrait of the woman as a notorious outcast. His possible reconstruction of serial widowhood is not adopted here because John does not state it. ↩

  7. Tim Wardle, “Mount Gerizim”, Bible Odyssey, on Gerizim as the Samaritan sacred mountain, its temple, and the sanctuary’s destruction under John Hyrcanus. ↩

  8. Greek text and morphology for John 4:23 and John 4:24, with the lexical range of proskyneō. ↩

  9. St Cyril of Alexandria, Commentary on John, Book II, on John 4:23-24, trans. P. E. Pusey, paragraph 219. ↩

  10. Greek text for John 4:26: Ἐγώ εἰμι, ὁ λαλῶν σοι. Compare John 8:58. The shared formula is real; the later verse states the claim with greater explicitness. ↩

  11. Coptic Orthodox readings for the Sunday of the fourth week of Great Lent, March 15, 2026, Liturgy Gospel, John 4:1-42. ↩

  12. Coptic Orthodox readings for the Sunday of the third week of the Holy Fifty Days, May 3, 2026, Liturgy Gospel, John 4:1-42. ↩

  13. Rites of the Prayers of Prostration, Saint Bishoy Coptic Orthodox Church PDF, third prostration Gospel, John 4:1-24. ↩

  14. Later Orthodox commemoration of the Samaritan woman as St. Photini (“the enlightened one”), Equal-to-the-Apostles and Great Martyr: OrthodoxWiki, Photine of Samaria. The later name and martyrdom tradition are not recorded in John 4. ↩

  15. Greek text and morphology for John 4:29, including the interrogative mēti. The particle’s ordinary expectation does not settle the woman’s complete inner state. ↩

  16. St John Chrysostom, Homilies on John, Homily 32, paragraph 15. ↩

  17. St John Chrysostom, Homilies on John, Homily 34, paragraph 18. ↩

  18. St John Chrysostom, Homilies on John, Homily 35, paragraph 16. ↩

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