Showing posts with label Judgment. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Judgment. Show all posts

Thursday, May 8, 2014

Cain: Marked for Life (Genesis 4:15)

Why did God put a mark on Cain? So no one would kill him (Genesis 4:15)

After humanity has been exiled from Eden (Genesis 3:24), the first brothers born on earth, Cain and Abel, decide to offer sacrifices to God (Genesis 4:3). Presumably they are attempting to rebuild humanity’s relationship with the estranged deity (Genesis 4:3). Cain, a farmer, offers “the fruit of the ground” while Abel, a shepherd, brings “the firstlings of his flock” (Genesis 4:3-4 NASB). Though the text offers no explanation as to why, God favors Abel’s offering (Genesis 4:4-5). In response, a dejected Cain coaxes his brother into a field where he kills him (Genesis 4:8-9). The act marks the first premeditated murder.

When confronted by God, Cain is informed that the ground will no longer sustain him and that he will survive as a fugitive (Genesis 4:10-12). In effect, Cain is homeless and unemployed.

Cain seemingly laments his punishment more than his crime; he pleas with God claiming that the consequences are too great (Genesis 4:13-14). Ironically, the murderer also confesses that he fears being murdered. Cain’s plea bargain is successful. God assures him that if murdered he will be avenged sevenfold and then ratifies this agreement by marking Cain (Genesis 4:15).

So the Lord said to him, “Therefore whoever kills Cain, vengeance will be taken on him sevenfold.” And the Lord appointed a sign for Cain, so that no one finding him would slay him. (Genesis 4:15 NASB)
John Byron (b. 1967) summarizes:
The final aspect of the “sentencing phase”...is the mark of Cain in Genesis 4:15b. As part of God’s apparent promise of divine protection against a premature death, Cain is given a mark from God. The stated purpose of the mark was to prevent anyone from killing Cain. (Byron, Cain and Abel in Text and Tradition: Jewish and Christian Interpretations of the First Sibling Rivalry, 119)
Jurist Alan M. Dershowitz (b. 1938) evaluates:
Cain murdered his younger brother and then tried to cover it up [Genesis 4:8-9]. His motive was petty jealousy over God’s unexplained preference for Abel’s offering. Yet despite the severity of the crime, God is relatively soft on Cain. God does not impose proportional punishment. Instead He makes him a fugitive and a wanderer [Genesis 4:12]. Being excluded from the clan could, of course, carry serious consequences in primitive society, since it returned the excluded person to the state of nature and exposed him to the elements as well as animals. (This may explain Rashi [1040-1105]’s interpretation of “the mark of Cain” as restoring the fear of Cain in animals.) Even in early England, being denied the protection of the “king’s peace” was dangerous. But at least there was a chance of survival by the resourceful outsider. It was not capital punishment. (Dershowitz, The Genesis of Justice: Ten Stories of Biblical Injustice that Led to the Ten Commandments and Modern Law, ii)
In modern terms, Cain’s plea bargain waives the death penalty and imposes life in prison. In doing so, God insures that the cycle of violence will not escalate. There will be a moratorium on murder. Still, Cain serves forever as a cautionary tale.

Cain’s petition marks a pivotal point in the narrative (Genesis 4:14). Walter Brueggemann (b. 1933) pinpoints:

The crucial element is the exchange between the offender and the judge (Genesis 4:13-15). The sentence is that he be a fugitive, consigned to keep farming land that has no life in it (Genesis 4:11-12; cf. Genesis 3:17-19, 4:2). But the pause in the action is when Cain seeks mercy. The killer now fears to be killed (Genesis 4:13-14). The killer has no resources of his own but must cast himself upon the mercy of the life-giver. And such a mercy: a mark asserting both guilt and grace [Genesis 4:15]. (Brueggemann, Genesis (Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching), 60)
Far from a tyrant, the deity allows the human to get a say in his future. Thomas L. Brodie (b. 1940) contemplates:
At first, the divine word is supreme, creating all things (Genesis 1:1-2:4a). Then, in settling humankind in the Garden (Genesis 2:4b-24), the divine command, while still respected, is open to being contravened, broken. Later, in the eating, it is indeed broken (Genesis 3:1-7). Finally, Cain not only goes against it, but manages even to reverse it: his plea to Yhwh to change the decree of punishment (Genesis 4:6-8, 12-15). Thus, there is a strong contrast between the transcendent freedom of the opening command, “Let there be light [Genesis 1:3],” and the pressurized closing command not to kill Cain; the God who once pronounced with total sovereignty becomes Yhwh who takes up the logic of a distressed murderer (“Therefore/Very well,” Genesis 4:15). At the end, God’s word is interwoven with the word of a banished wanderer. (Brodie, Genesis as Dialogue: A Literary, Historical, and Theological Commentary, 155)
Cain fears that “anyone who meets me may kill me” (Genesis 4:14 NASB). This statement is controversial as to this point Genesis has only mentioned three other people living on earth: Adam, Eve and God. Though Cain’s fears could be real they might also be imagined: The convicted killer could be projecting his own murderous intentions onto others.

C. John Collins (b. 1954) considers:

We should read Genesis 4 under the assumption that the author is using Cain’s speech as a way of showing the readers the condition of Cain’s inner life. He could be afraid—perhaps God even considered the fear to be legitimate, since he put a “mark” on him (Genesis 4:15)—of what his siblings might carry out in due course, along the lines of what came to be known as the “avenger of blood” (see Numbers 35:9-34, where it is presented as an institution already familiar to the audience who received the Pentateuch)...It is also possible that the author wants us to think that Cain’s fears are exaggerated, the result of his evil deed upon his conscience. In this case God put a mark on Cain in order to reassure him. (Collins, Did Adam and Eve Really Exist?: Who They Were and Why You Should Care, 112-13)
God promises Cain that he will be avenged sevenfold should his fears become realized (Genesis 4:15). In effect, God will do for Cain what God did not do for Abel.

In addition to his words, God provides a tangible sign (Genesis 4:15). Martin Sicker (b. 1931) infers:

Cain failed to appear satisfied with the Creator’s blanket assurances. Unable to deal with such intellectual abstractions and hypothetical situations, he required something more readily accessible to his senses, upon which he relied so heavily. Cain needed a sign, perhaps an omen, something he could fix his gaze upon, something he could sense. Accordingly, the biblical author suggests that the Creator, exhibiting extraordinary patience and tolerance, gave Cain the omen he felt he needed so desperately. (Sicker, Reading Genesis Politically: An Introduction to Mosaic Political Philosophy, 59)
Cain is bestowed a “mark” (CEV, ESV, HCSB, KJV, MSG, NIV, NKJV, NLT, NRSV, RSV) or “sign” (ASV, NASB) (Genesis 4:15). The Hebrew ’ôth, can also mean “token”. Given this ambiguity, the mark has generated much speculation.

Russell Jacoby (b. 1945) questions:

The translation of the Cain-Abel story into the Jewish-Christian conflict stumbled on a critical problem...God “set a mark upon Cain, lest any finding him should kill him.” The Lord wanted him marked but not killed (Genesis 4:15). God seemed to be playing a Talmudic joke, since the text offers no clue as to the nature of this mark. Philo [20 BCE-50 CE], an Alexandrian Jew, in his commentary puzzles about the obscurity. The Lord, Moses tells us, put a mark upon Cain, “but what his mark is, he has not shown, although he is in the habit of explaining the nature of everything by sign.” How is Cain to be identified? What is the mark? How do we know who is the Cain among us? After all, Cain is your brother and looks like everyone else, which is the problem. (Jacoby, Bloodlust: On the Roots of Violence from Cain and Abel to the Present, 83)
Kenneth A. Mathews (b. 1950) analyzes:
The “mark of Cain,” as it is popularly known, has proven to be a seedbed for confusion (Genesis 4:15b). “Mark” is the common word for “sign” (’ōt); the exact nature of the sign or its place on the body (“on Cain”) is unknown. One Jewish tradition pointed to Cain himself as the “sign” who served to admonish others to repentance (Genesis Rabbah 22.12). In effect this has become true for later generations, if not his own, for Cain the man has become a token of sin’s fruit and divine retribution (I John 3:12; Jude 1:11). Although “sign” is used figuratively in several passages (e.g., Exodus 13:9; Deuteronomy 6:8, 11:18), the only parallel is Ezekiel 9:4, where certain men receive a mark on the forehead. But even there it is an extended vision in which it only has symbolic force. What is important here is its purpose: “so that no one who found him would kill him” (Genesis 4:15). “Mark” in our passage is not a sign of the “curse”; in fact, it assures Cain’s safety rather than acts as a reproach. The mark in Ezekiel’s vision had the same effect; it distinguished those who bore the brand and gave them protections. (Mathews, Genesis 1-11:26 (New American Commentary), 278)
The “Mark of Cain” has developed ominous connotations. Nahum M. Sarna (1923-2005) clarifies:
This phrase has been persistently misunderstood. The reference is not to a stigma of infamy but to a sign indicating that the bearer is under divine protection. Hebrew ’ot here probably involves some external physical mark, perhaps on the forehead, as in Ezekiel 9:4-6, serving the same function as the blood of the paschal lamb smeared on the lintels and doorposts of each Israelite house in Egypt [Exodus 12:7, 13, 22, 23]. It is also possible, though less likely, that the “sign” consists of some occurrence that serves to authenticate the divine promise as being inviolable. In that case, the text would be rendered: “The LORD gave Cain a [confirmatory] sign that no one who met him would kill him.” (Sarna, Genesis (JPS Torah Commentary), 35)
Hugh C. White (1936-2001) laments:
Those who seek to kill will be killed; they will become victims of their own hostility...But there must be a mechanism by which this process will be set in motion, and this is a divine sign which is given or placed on Cain. The Hebrew is ambiguous (אות)...Whatever its outer form, its significance in this context is to establish a communicative relation between the character and the divine Voice. Cain will not be granted such micro-dialogues in the future. But a trace will remain of this word to him in the form of a material mark or sign apparently on his body...And there is the chief irony. The narrative began with Cain seeking spiritual identification with the divine through the sacrifice of material representations of his person...Now he is to be deprived of all hope of attaining such identification with the land and with the divine..Through it he will be reminded of this dialogue in the past with the divine judge which fixed his sentence as a curse, and the mercy by which he was granted this protecting mark...The physicality of this sign, which is now the organizing center of his identity, permanently bars him from any future attempts to attain identity with the divine. His identity is forever based upon a sign which imposes upon him its own temporal and material form. The mark thus functions as a type of inverted promise, a material sign which marks Cain in an autonomous mode of existence, closing his development as a character by guaranteeing his life against attack at the price of eternal liminality, and alienation. (White, Narration and Discourse in the Book of Genesis, 166)
Whatever the mark is, it should be perceived as an individual, not communal, distinction. That is, it likely applies only to Cain. Claus Westermann (1909-2000) determines:
There is no direct parallel which can clearly prove the individual or collective explanation. There are distinguishing marks like this both for individuals and for groups. One comes to a decision by looking at the content and meaning of the narrative as a whole — and the context points clearly to an individual mark. (Westermann, Genesis 1-11 (Continental Commentary), 313)
The mark has long perplexed those wanting to visualize it and countless theories as to the mark’s substance have been posited. Given the fruitless conjecturing, some commentators simply ignore the issue.

John Byron (b. 1967) acknowledges:

It is not known what the mark was and all that can be said is that it was probably something visible. The Septuagint adds nothing to our understanding when it translates the mark as a “sign,” and there is nothing strikingly different among the other extant translations. And exegetes, for the most part, did not comment extensively on the Mark of Cain. For instance, in his Questions and Answers in Genesis, Philo [20 BCE-50 CE] does address God’s giving of the mark, but the focus of the question and subsequent commentary is on why the mark was given, and no speculation over the nature of the mark is provided. Josephus [37-100], too, avoids the topic by failing to even acknowledge that part of the story. The avoidance of the topic by interpreters may be symptomatic of their preoccupation with the seven-fold punishment of Genesis 4:15a and Genesis 4:24. Or it could be that they simply chose to ignore the mark since very little information is provided and it does not really support the overwhelming urge to rewrite Genesis 4:15 so that Cain’s punishment is magnified. (Byron, Cain and Abel in Text and Tradition: Jewish and Christian Interpretations of the First Sibling Rivalry, 119-20)
Despite the reticence of many to comment on the nature of the mark, countless theories have been posited. Claus Westermann (1909-2000) introduces:
In what form did the mark appear? Imagination has been unbridled here. Johann Adolph Bühlau has collected the older opinions, De signo Cain posito, 1713, Karl Fruhstorfer [1875-1956] the more recent. The most common is that it was a tattoo mark or an incision on the face, a different way of arranging the hair, circumcision, etc. One may mention as one among many, a Rabbinic suggestion, Bereshit rabba 22:12: God gave him a dog as his companion. (Westermann, Genesis 1-11 (Continental Commentary), 314)
John H. Sailhamer (b. 1946) adds:
What is the “sign”? The narrative does not explicitly say, though many attempts have been made to identify it, e.g., as a bright-colored coat or a horn on his forehead (Ludwig Diestel [1825-1879], Geschichte des Alten Testaments in der christliche Kirche [Jena: Mauke’s (Hermann Dufft), 1869], 497). (Tremper Longman III [b. 1952] and David E. Garland [b. 1947], Genesis ~ Leviticus (Expositor’s Bible Commentary), 102)
Irven M. Resnick (b. 1952) reviews:
Most Jewish commentators viewed Cain as a repentant sinner, which explains why his punishment—to become a wanderer—was comparatively so light. But there were many variant traditions concerning the sign that marked Cain. Pirke de Rabbi Eliezer and, later, Rashi [1040-1105] understood the sign of Cain placed on Cain’s forehead to be one of the letters of the divine name. Other commentators—both Jewish and Christian—speculated that the sign was a horn on Cain’s forehead. Rupert of Deutz (d. 1129) insisted that in Scripture the sign placed on Cain was not a tremor in his body, or a horn on his forehead, or some other such thing. These are merely fables among the Jews. But Andrew of Saint Victor (d. 1175) noted that Cain was a vagabond, a wanderer, fearful, and that he sustained a “trembling in the members” (tremor membrorum) as a sign. Even more explicitly Hugh of St. Victor (d. 1141) avers that the sign of Cain is a “trembling of the members like one who is mad or insane.” Petrus Comestor (d. c. 1178) identifies the sign, similarly, as a tremor or shaking of the head, and Peter the Chanter (d. 1197) combines this tremor about the head with a mind seized by fear. (Resnick, Marks of Distinctions: Christian Perceptions of Jews in the High Middle Ages, 209)
James M. Dean (b. 1943) further documents:
Early and medieval exegetes tended to imagine Cain’s mark as a physical stigma of some kind. Early Jewish commentary, perhaps influenced by descriptions of other divine signs such as the mark of Tau (Ezekiel 9:4, 6), postulated a letter from the tetragrammaton (Targum Psuedo-Jonathan) or the alphabet (Pirque Rabbi Eliezer 21) placed either on Cain’s forehead or his arm (Louis Ginzberg [1873-1953], Legends of the Jews 1.111-12). Some Christian writers, following the Septuagint of Genesis 4:14, which reads “trembling and grieving” where the Vulgate has “vagus et profugus” (“a fugitive and a vagabond”, King James Version), understand the mark as an involuntary shaking of the head (Peter Comestor [d. 1178], Historia Scholastica: Liber Genesis [Patrologia Latina 198:27]; Peter Riga [1140-1209], Aurora, 418). As þe lyff of Adam and Eve puts it: “And þo sette Crist a mark upon him, þat he waggede alway forþ wiþ his heved” (Sammlung altenglischer Legenden [1878], 224). In Cursor Mundi the Lord places writing on Cain so that others may “read” it “als clerk” (1178), and in the Cornish Creation, God makes the sign of omega (ω) on Cain’s forehead (1179), a mark which could resemble horns...From Cain’s curse, according to medieval tradition, arose the monstrous races—the Grendels, Calibans, anthropophagi, and Apeneck Sweeneys — thought to exist in inhospitable regions (John Block Friedman [b. 1934] [1981], 89). (David L. Jeffrey [b. 1941], A Dictionary of Biblical Tradition in English Literature, 481)
Abraham Kuruvilla updates:
Genesis Rabbah 22:12 suggests, rather incredibly, that God gave Cain a dog that would accompany him in his wanderings, scaring off potential assailants! R.W.L. Moberly [b. 1952], working off the preposition “for” (ל, l, “sign for Cain”), rather than the expected “on” (על, ’l, as in Exodus 13:16; Deuteronomy 6:8, 11:18, where signs are placed “on” bodies), thinks that the proverb-like saying “Whoever kills Cain is in danger of being avenged sevenfold” (Genesis 4:15) is, itself, the sign—a sign “for” Cain’s protection, rather than a sign “on” Cain’s person. In any case...the sign on Cain indicated his sin/guilt; but it also served as a token of God’s mercy upon the sinner—Cain was not to be killed in vengeance by anyone. Cain is banned, but he is still blessed: “[h]e leaves Gods presence, but not God’s protection.” H.G.L. Peels [b. 1956] notes the irony that “Yahweh wants to be the keeper of the man who did not want to be his brother’s keeper.” (Kuruvilla, Genesis: A Theological Commentary for Preachers, 84)
There are no exact parallels to the mark of Cain though there are comparisons to be made. Claus Westermann (1909-2000) researches:
What could well be a direct parallel is found in Nuzi Tablets. Jacob J. Rabinowitz [b. 1928] sees a connection between the banishment and a sign, Vetus Testamentum 11(1961) 55-59; Nuzi IV 369, 42 speaks of a condemnation: “It means banishment, excommunication.” An outline of the fate of the condemned is then given: “The procedure described in ana ittišū sounds very much like excommunication and the shaving (of the head) there like a sign of excommunication. There is perhaps an allusion to the sign of excommunication in Cain’s sign (Genesis 4:15),” p. 59. Pieter Middlekoop [1895-1973] thinks that one of the functions of the mark is to protect the person responsible from the consequences of the murder: he links it with Exodus 4:24-26 (South East Asia Journal of Theology, 8 [1966-67] 17-28). (Westermann, Genesis 1-11 (Continental Commentary), 313)
Most interpreters have assumed that the mark is on Cain’s body. John E. Hartley (b. 1940) surmises:
The mark must have been visible so that anyone coming upon Cain would at once be aware of the protection Cain was under. This mark condemned and simultaneously protected Cain; whoever killed Cain would suffer vengeance seven times over. [Genesis 4:15] That is, the slayer would be judged to the fullest measure. (Hartley, Genesis (New International Biblical Commentary), 84)
M.W. Collier rationalizes:
Placing a mark upon him implies the other inhabitants of their small world would be able to recognize it as having been placed by God. If not, then the marking of Cain would have served no purpose. Since the book implies that the mark had purpose, then we must assume the other people called to the same God. If they did not then thy would have not have any fear of retribution from Cain’s God. (Collier, The Good Book? Chapter 1 Book 1 Genesis 1-50, 29)
Hermann Gunkel (1862-1932) asserts:
The mark that Yahweh gives Cain was, naturally, on Cain’s body. It belongs “to the realm of religious tattooing and stigmatization, which, widely dispersed, was also known to Semitic peoples” (Wilhelm Heitmüller [1869-1926], Im Namen Jesu, 174; Ezekiel 9:4; Isaiah 44:5; Leviticus 19:28; Deuteronomy 14:1f; Revelation 13:16f, 14:9; Galatians 6:17, etc.). According to the circumstances of the narrative, the mark of Cain was not, as the popular view maintains, a mark meant to designate Cain as a murderer (such as the haggard expression of the murderer) but a mark intended to protect him from murder (August Dillmann [1823-1894]). Whereof it consisted, the narrative...does not say. (Gunkel [translated by Mark E. Biddle (b. 1957)], Genesis (Mercer Library of Biblical Studies), 46-47)
Some have presumed that God places a letter on Cain like Hester Prynne, the protagonist in Nathaniel Hawthorne (1804-1864)’s Scarlet Letter (1850).

Robert Gnuse (b. 1947) studies:

Many commentators suggest that the mark upon Cain was a tattoo, for that was the most logical mark on a person’s body in the ancient world. It is also suggested that the mark was on his face, perhaps his forehead, since that was the most common place in the ancient world to put a distinguishing mark. It was visible to a stranger, especially if the Kenite were garbed in such a way as to protect his body against the wind and sand of the wilderness. Elsewhere (Ezekiel 9:4) there are references to a protective mark placed upon the forehead. In later years such a protective mark was the letter tau, the last letter of the Hebrew alphabet. Some authors suggest that the mark on Cain’s forehead was the tau (Wilhelm Vischer [1895-1988] 74-75; Alan Richardson [1905-1975] 85). In the two or three centuries before Jesus, the Hebrew letter tau was placed upon important religious manuscripts or in the margins of manuscripts next to especially significant verses, such as those which might contain the sacred name for God. The letter appears to protect something or highlight it as sacred. This would be true of both people and written manuscripts. The form of the tau that was used was written in an old Paleo-Hebrew script, not the tau used in the script of the Hebrew Bible (and learned dutifully by Jews and Christian seminarians when they study Hebrew). (Gnuse, Misunderstood Stories: Theological Commentary on Genesis 1-11, 166-67)

There is an oft cited biblical parallel to a protective mark upon the head in the prophet Ezekiel (Ezekiel 9:4-6). Victor P. Hamilton (b. 1952) compares:

Another Hebrew word for “sign,” taw, also functions as a symbol of identity. In his vision Ezekiel sees God’s executioners coming on the city. They are told to “put a mark” on those who truly grieve over the city’s sins (Ezekiel 9:4). When destruction comes those who bear the “mark” are to be spared (Ezekiel 9:6). The Hebrew word for “mark” is taw, which is the last letter of the Hebrew alphabet. In the older Hebrew script it was shaped like an X. Some early Christian exegetes saw here an anticipation of the saving power of the cross, an interpretation which is apologetic and forced, though this Ezekiel passage does serve as a background for all the references to “marking” in the book of Revelation [Revelation 7:3, 9:4, 13:16-17, 14:1, 9, 17:5, 20:4, 22:4]. (Hamilton, The Book of Genesis, Chapters 1-17 (New International Commentary on the Old Testament Series), 235)
Many have compared the mark of Cain to a tattoo. In fact, Cain has even be viewed as an icon of such markings. Karin Beeler (b. 1963) documents:
In his book I Love Mom: An Irreverent History of the Tattoo, John Gray [b. 1946] identifies Cain as the bearer of the first tattoo: “And the Lord set a sign for Cain, lest any finding him should smite him” (Genesis 4:15)...According to Gray, God’s marking of Cain brands Cain as “the first rebel” (Gray 25). What is important about the marking of Cain is that the Biblical narrative links the concept of the tattoo to violence and to the marginalized status of the criminal. Cain’s tattoo functions as a sign of difference and resistance to the Law. The narrative of Cain’s murder and his ensuing outcast status are embedded in the visual power of the “sign,” which Gray has chosen to call a tattoo. Yet Cain’s tattoo also has an ambiguous, perhaps even a subversive, function, because when God the divine tattoo artist marked him, He not only marginalized him but also marked him as God’s “property” to protect him from harm. Thus Cain is still branded as belonging to someone; while this does not have the same resonance for a gang member or prisoner who might benefit from relations with another gang member or prisoner, the mark of identification serves as a way of signaling a kind of ownership. (Beeler, Tattoos, Desire and Violence: Marks of Resistance in Literature, Film and Television, 118)
Another prominent theory historically is that Cain is afflicted with habitual trembling. This premise is influenced by the Septuagint. Russell Jacoby (b. 1945) traces:
The Septuagint, or Greek version of the Hebrew Bible, translated the curse of Cain as trembling and groaning. Early Christian writings adopted this interpretation, and shaking also became a mark of Cain. In a Christian text from the sixth century called The Conflict of Adam and Eve, Cain trembles from fear as he buries Abel in the earth. An angry God condemns Cain to perpetual trembling. “Then Cain trembled and became terrified; and through this sign did God make him an example before all the creation, as the murderer of his brother.” This idea has persisted virtually to the present, for instance in a twentieth-century Catholic Bible, which reprises an earlier commentary: “The more common opinion of the interpreters of holy writ supposes this mark [of Cain] to have been a trembling of the body.” The mark of Cain, then, consisted of two components, trembling and wandering. (Jacoby, Bloodlust: On the Roots of Violence from Cain and Abel to the Present, 84)
Ruth Mellinkoff (1924-2011) deduces:
That the mark of Cain was a trembling of Cain’s limbs (in general and not necessarily only his head) must have some early popular support, for we learn of it through its condemnation by Rupert of Deutz (ca. 1075-1129), the theologian who attempts to trounce all who accept such an interpretation. In his comments on the Genesis text Rupert emphatically denies that the trembling of the limbs was the mark of Cain. Rupert’s denial is of further interest because in it Rupert demonstrates a sophisticated interpretation of the grammar in Genesis 4:15 whereby Cain is the sign...Posuitque Cain [in] signum, meaning “made Cain [as] a sign.” Rupert, aware of the grammatical possibilities of the biblical passage, says that Cain became the sign of the Lord, thereby representing the Lord’s proclamation; and therefore Cain as the sign was the symbol of the ruler which must not be violated. (Melinkoff, The Mark of Cain: An Art Quantum, 51)
It cannot even be stated with certainty that the mark is actually on Cain’s person. Martin Kessler (b. 1927) and Karel Deurloo (b. 1936) recognize:
What is the sign? It cannot be the so-called “sign of Cain” marking a murderer, for Cain was painfully blessed. The narrator leaves our questions unanswered and does not even indicate whether it is a sign on or for Cain. One might fill in with what it signifies, namely, life. (Kessler and Deurloo, A Commentary on Genesis: The Book of Beginnings, 66)
J.G. Vos (1903-1983) notes:
The words “the Lord set a mark upon Cain” may be more accurately translated, “the Lord gave Cain a sign [Genesis 4:15].” The Hebrew says, literally, “the Lord gave a sign to Cain”; it does not say that the sign was “in” or “on” Cain. (Vos, Genesis, 93)
Barry L. Bandstra (b. 1951) dissects:
לקין. Beneficiary > prepositional phrase: preposition + noun proper ms. Typically translated on Qayin, for example NRSV: And the Lord put a mark on Cain [Genesis 4:15]. This makes it sound like a tattoo. Yet the structure looks more like a Beneficiary than a Circumstance of location, which might be expected to use prep ב or על. (Bandstra, Genesis 1-11: A Handbook on the Hebrew Text, 261)
The belief that the Mark of Cain is not on his body has generated advocates. John Byron (b. 1967) surveys:
Those who do not think a visible mark is in the mind of the author include Gordon J. Wenham [b. 1943] who follows P.A.H. de Boer [1910-1989] (Nederlands Theologisch Tijdschrift 31 [1942]:210) in suggesting that the sign is Cain’s name which sounds like “shall be punished.” “His very name hints at the promise of divine retribution of his attackers” (Wenham, 109). R.W.L. Moberly [b. 1952] (“The Mark of Cain—Revealed at Last?,” Harvard Theological Review 100 [207]:11-28) offers that God’s promise to Cain, “Whoever kills Cain will suffer vengeance,” is the “non-corporeal sign and thus, the sign and the promise are not two different things, however closely related” (15). (Byron, Cain and Abel in Text and Tradition: Jewish and Christian Interpretations of the First Sibling Rivalry, 119-20)
Countless other non-corporeal theories have been posited. R.R. Reno (b. 1959) notes:
The text gives no clue as to the nature of the mysterious mark. An Aramaic version of Genesis, however, suggests that God lends Cain the power of his holiness as a protection against retribution: “Then the Lord traced on Cain’s face a letter of the great and glorious Name, so that anyone who would find him, upon seeing it on him, would not kill him” (Michael Maher [1933-2012] 1992:34)...This reading may seem fanciful, but the larger canonical context encourages an interpretation of the mark along these lines. (Reno, Genesis (Brazos Theological Commentary on the Bible), 108-09)
James M. Dean (b. 1943) chronicles:
Some have interpreted the mark as a psychological punishment (Philo [20 BCE-50 CE]) or an unspecified “sign of perdition” (Hugh of St. Victor [1096-1141], De Vanitate Mundi, 3). Both St. Ambrose [337-397] (De Cain, 2.9.34-37) and St. Augustine [354-430] (Contra Faustum 12.13) allegorically equate Cain with the Jewish people and with the race which killed Christ. In Beowulf (1264) Cain is said to have been “marked by [or for his] murder” (morphe gemearacod). From such interpretations derived from the notion that the mark of Cain was his twisted personality, his despair, as Geoffrey Chaucer [1343-1400]’s Parson says, “of the mercy of Jhesu Crist” — in which he was linked to Judas (Parson’s Tale, 10.1015). Lord Byron [1788-1824]’s Cain cries out that his brow “burns” with the mark, “but naught to that which is within it” (Cain, 3.1.500-501). (David L. Jeffrey [b. 1941], A Dictionary of Biblical Tradition in English Literature, 481)
David W. Cotter records:
Ambrose [340-397] says that he is marked by his slavery to sin, that henceforth he belongs to sin as surely as any slave belongs to an owner: “Like a slave, Cain received a mark and he could not escape death. Thus is the sinner a slave to fear, a slave to desire, a slave to greed, a slave to lust, a slave to sin, a slave to anger. Though such a man appears to himself free, he is more a slave than if he were under tyrants.” (Cotter, Genesis (Berit Olam: Studies in Hebrew Narrative & Poetry), 45)
John H. Sailhamer (b. 1946) supposes that the mark of Cain is actually the city he builds (Genesis 4:17) and that it serves as a prototype for later cities of refuge (Numbers 35:9-15):
The major issues in this brief narrative are similar to those in the account of the “cities of refuge” (Numbers 35:9-34). In both narratives God provides protection against one who “avenges the blood” of another. The initial question addressed in these narratives is not whether one is guilty of the crimes of murder—that was to be settled by due process (Numbers 35:12). The issue that links the narratives about Cain and about the cities of refuge (in Numbers 35:9-34) is the need for protection of the accused against the threat of revenge. God’s intention in both texts is to put an end to further bloodshed: “Bloodshed pollutes the land” (Numbers 35:33)...The background of the cities of refuge may provide a much-needed clue to the meaning of the “sign” or “mark” (Genesis 4:15b) given Cain. The purpose of the “mark” (or “sign”) was to protect Cain from vengeance: “so that no one who found him would kill him.” Though it is sometimes assumed that a “mark” was “put on” Cain (cf. the early versions), the passage states only that a sign was given “to” or “for” Cain (wayyāśem...l‘qayin ‘ôt, literally, “and he [the LORD] appointed to Cain a sign”; cf. Genesis 21:13, 18, 27:37, 45:7, 9, 46:3 with Genesis 21:14, 44:21)...An important clue may lie in the structure of the narrative itself. After the mention of the sign (Genesis 4:15), the narrative continues with an account of Cain’s departure to the land of Nod, “east of Eden,” and his building of a city [Genesis 4:16-17]. The logic of the narrative suggests that Cain’s city is related to the sign given him by God. The parallels with texts relating to the cities of refuge...suggest that Cain’s sign may have been the safety he found in the building of a city. His city was a sign of his divine protection from anyone “who found him.” Like the cities of refuge, Cain’s city protected him from further bloodshed...The subsequent narrative gives further evidence of the link between Cain’s sign and the cities of refuge. Still in Lamech’s day, Cain’s city is portrayed as a place of refuge for the “manslayer” [Genesis 4:24]...Hence, within the narrative’s own logic, Cain’s city may be viewed as a “city of refuge” provided him by God as protection from blood revenge (see Deuteronomy 19:11-13). The broader importance the author attaches to the “city” Cain builds can be seen in the rest of the chapter. There one finds a detailed description of the progress and development of that city. In most respects the narrative is told from a positive perspective on city life. (Tremper Longman III [b. 1952] and David E. Garland [b. 1947], Genesis ~ Leviticus (Expositor’s Bible Commentary), 102-03)
Of the many proposals as to Cain’s mark, one has been deemed unequivocally wrong (both morally and exegetically): that Cain is given dark skin. Paul J. Kissling (b. 1957) prefaces:
In the history of interpretation the mark of Cain has sometimes been assumed to be black skin. Since black-skinned people were enslaved in large numbers, it was assumed that they must be under God’s judgment. This perplexing misreading warns us of the potential for the Bible to be abused to support whatever oppressive social practice we are guilty of. This reading makes no sense of the narrative. There is no reason to believe that the mark of Cain was some genetic change which affected future generations even if we assume it was a physical mark and not a sign. Even if it was some genetic change, it was presumably wiped out in the Flood [Genesis 6:1-8:22]. (Kissling, Genesis, Volume 1 (College Press NIV Commentary), 228)
The theory took wings in antebellum America. David M. Goldenberg (b. 1947) chronicles:
Several authors in antebellum America refer to a then-current idea that Cain was smitten with dark skin as punishment for killing his brother, Abel. To some, this was the unspecified “mark” that God put on Cain “so that no one who found him would kill him” (Genesis 4:15). David Walker [1785-1830], an African American writing in 1829, reflects this view common at the time when he says, “Some ignorant creatures hesitate not to tell us that we (the blacks) are the seed of Cain..and that God put a dark stain upon us, that we might be known as their slaves!!!” The black mark of Cain, although far less common than the curse of Ham, is nevertheless found among a number of antebellum writers from 1733 onward. Phillis Wheatley [1753-1784], the African American poet, in 1773 recorded this belief in verse: “Remember Christian, Negroes black as Cain/May be refined, and join the angelic train.” (Goldenberg, The Curse of Ham: Race and Slavery in Early Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, 178)
Colin Kidd (b. 1964) informs:
For many commentators, the mark of Cain...portended a...particular racial significance. Some, such as the author of Clearer light, an anonymous English tract of 1874 which dealt, among other things, with the problems of race in the scriptures, claimed that Cain was the primal ancestor of all black people: the mark upon Cain should be read as a racial transformation which included changes to the texture of his hair and the blackening of his skin. This author also maintained that at this time Adam and Eve had no other surviving children but, even if there had been, it would have been extremely unlikely that Cain had gone on to marry any of his sisters, not least because they would have been reluctant to marry their brother’s murderer. Therefore the compelling conclusion was that there had been two distinct racial creations of mankind, one distinct from Adam and Eve into whose body Cain had married...By contrast, John Overton (1764-1838), the English genealogist of Christ, had identified Cain as the father of the Chinese race, a people whose very high antiquity suggested that in their east Asian remoteness they had escaped the Deluge which had engulfed the rest of the known world in the age of Noah. This line persisted later in the nineteenth century in the influential work of Dominick McCausland [1806-1873]...Champions of black pride transformed the curse of Cain...In particular, the black nationalist leader Marcus Garvey (1887-1940) inverted the white racist version of the mark of Cain. Garvey argued that Adam and Eve had been black as had their sons Cain and Abel. The subsequent whiteness of Cain and his descendants – down to modern Europeans – was a punishment for sin. (Kidd, The Forging of Races: Race and Scripture in the Protestant Atlantic World, 1600-2000, 34-35)
Though it gained traction in North America, the theory originated in the Rabbinic writings and gained prominence in Europe. David M. Goldenberg (b. 1947) archives:
The Curse of Cain did not originate on America soil. A curse of blackness on Cain, from whom the Blacks are descended, is often noted in European literature of the seventeenth to nineteenth century. In England Thomas Peyton [1595-1626] referred to the black African as “the cursed descendant of Cain and the devil” in his The Glasse of Time published in 1620, and in 1785 Paul Erdmann Isert [1756-1789] more expansively recorded the view that the Black’s skin color “originated with Cain, the murderer of his brother, whose family were destined to have the black colour as a punishment.” In France the Curse is mentioned in a 1733 Dissertation sur l’origine des nègres et des américains, and is recorded by Jean-Baptiste Labat [1663-1738], the Dominican missionary and explorer...as also by Nicolas Bergier [1718-1790] in his Dictionnaire Théologique in 1789. It is also found in the seventeenth- and eighteenth-century Portuguese empire. (Goldenberg, The Curse of Ham: Race and Slavery in Early Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, 178-79)
The connection between race and Cain’s mark have been summarily discarded. C. Eric Lincoln (1924-2000) rejects:
Nowhere do the Scriptures state or even imply a divine intention to isolate Blacks from the dozens of races and ethnic group by relating them and them only to Cain in the Genesis story. The absurdity is further confounded because, according to Genesis, God put the mark on Cain to protect him rather than to set him up as a target (Genesis 4:15). (Lincoln, Race, Religion, and the Continuing American Dilemma, 150)
Miguel A. De La Torre (b. 1958) elucidates:
A disturbing interpretation concerning Cain’s mark is its association with blackness. According to rabbinical tradition, Cain’s mark was him becoming black. Black people, as descendants of Cain’s line, became the children of sin and murder. But such a conclusion must assume that Cain was white before he was cursed with blackness. This view is not limited to the rabbinical text, but also becomes the religious foundation of white supremacy. Cain’s mark came to mean that servitude was the consequence of making Cain black—hence justifying slavery. If Cain was originally white, then so too were his parents, Adam and Eve; and since they were created in the image of God [Genesis 1:26], then God is also white. But...if God used the best soil to create Adam, and the richer the soil the blacker it is, would it not be reasonable to assume that Adam’s skin would resemble the ingredient used? So if Adam and Eve were black, as were their children Cain and Abel, then could not the mark just as easily be that God made Cain white? Obviously, we have no idea what the color of the first humans was, nor is it important. The biblical text is silent on this topic. It only remains important to those wishing to justify the supremacy of their own race. White supremacists have read their social context into the text and assumed the first humans were white. (De La Torre, Genesis: Belief: A Theological Commentary on the Bible, 98-99)
In making the mark of Cain about race, sin is compounded.

The exact nature of the mark of Cain will have to remain a question mark. Claus Westermann (1909-2000) concludes:

I agree with those scholars who refuse to give any answer to this question. This refusal can be justified; we are dealing here with a primeval narrative. This means in the present case that the narrator is dealing with an event that is beyond the present, where things happen differently from the world of time with which we are familiar. He did not mean a mark familiar and demonstrable to his contemporaries; he had no interest at all how this mark was to be presented. It has meaning only in the context which the narrative intends to describe. We must acknowledge that even the narrator himself had no definite idea of the form of the sign. (Westermann, Genesis 1-11 (Continental Commentary), 314)
Edwin M. Good (b. 1928) agrees:
What was the “mark of Qayin” [Genesis 4:15]? No one knows; I certainly do not, nor do I wish to. “Mark” often means a sign of something, sometimes a miraculous portent, sometimes merely a banner. And a sign or mark is as close as we will ever get. It seems another instance where the storytellers portray Yahweh as improvising, responding with an on-the-spot solution to a problem he had not previously considered. In fact, Yahweh does not say that the mark will prevent Qayin from being killed, only that if he is killed, vengeance will be sevenfold. (Good, Genesis 1-11: Tales of the Earliest World, 53)
Whatever the sign it serves multiple purposes. Victor P. Hamilton (b. 1952) catalogs:
God not only says something, he does something—he puts a mark (’ôt) on Cain. Unfortunately, we do not know exactly what this mark was or where it was placed. We do know that the ’ôt can function in three ways. First, it can be a sign of proof or evidence of God’s power (Exodus 7:3, the plagues; Exodus 4:8, 9, 17, 28, 30, signs intended to show that God has sent Moses to Egypt and that the Israelites should believe in him). Second, it can be a symbol, suggesting something else by virtue of resemblance or conventional association. Thus, Ezekiel’s sun-dried brick with a relief drawing of Jerusalem under siege is a “sign” for the house of Israel (Ezekiel 4:3). This function of sign is common with the prophets. Third, it can be a sign of cognition, awakening knowledge of something in the observer. This kind of sign includes mnemonic signs (e.g., the rainbow after the Flood, Genesis 9:12, 13, 17; the eating of unleavened bread, Exodus 13:9) and identity signs, as here. The sign identifies Cain as one who is especially protected by God. Parallels to this function of sign are Exodus 12:13 (the blood on the doors at Passover which identifies the occupants); Genesis 1:14 (the heavenly lights which identify time periods); Numbers 2:2 (the banners in the Israelite camp which identify the various families); Joshua 2:12 (the sign which identifies Rahab’s house). (Hamilton, The Book of Genesis, Chapters 1-17 (New International Commentary on the Old Testament Series), 234-35)
Whatever its nature, the mark of Cain serves its purpose: Cain is not murdered. His line continues and his family thrives (Genesis 4:17-24). Cain is a marked man. But he is marked for life, not death. And he is marked as such for life.

How do you think that the mark of Cain manifested itself? Does the institution of the sign indicate that Cain’s fears are justified? Who might kill Cain? Why does Cain need a sign; is God’s word insufficient? With the population presumably small, would God’s edict not be public knowledge? What is the purpose of the mark of Cain; is the mark more to deter potential assailants or embolden Cain? What is the sign’s modern parallel; is the tattoo a fair comparison? Were you God, where would you place Cain’s sign? Does it matter what the mark is; would knowing its nature change the way the text is read? Were you Cain, what safeguard would you want to put your fears at ease? Does the mark of Cain represent justice; should God have spared Cain’s life? Given the choice, would you pick exile or death? Does the act of murder always stay with the murderer?

The mark of Cain has taken on a negative connotation through the centuries. Andrew Willet (1562-1621) typifies:

“God set a mark upon Cain [Genesis 4:15],” but not, as some read, that God made Cain to be a sign or mark. Rather, God set some visible mark upon Cain, whether it was a horrible trembling and shaking of the whole body...or an exceeding shame and confusion, in that he ran from place to place to hide himself; or some visible mark set upon his face, as Nicholas of Lyra [1270-1349] thinks. (Some Hebrews think it was a horn on his forehead; some, a letter; some, that a dog led him about; but these are human imaginings.) Certainly, whatever it was, it was a sign of God’s wrath and not, as Josephus [37-100] thinks, a token that God was appeased by Cain’s sacrifice and forgave the punishment of fratricide: for if God did not accept this sacrifice before, how much less would he after? (John L. Thompson [b. 1952], Genesis 1-11 (Reformation Commentary on Scripture), 204)
Robert Alter (b. 1935) corrects:
A mark. It is of course a mark of protection, not a stigma as the English idiom, “mark of Cain,” suggests. (Alter,Genesis: Translation and Commentary, 18)
Though the mark protects Cain (Genesis 4:15), it represents a divine balance of grace and judgment. There are consequences to Cain’s actions. But there is also mercy. John Barth (b. 1930) quips:
A completely ambivalent mark. Nobody can touch you, but everybody sure does know you’re a criminal. (Bill Moyers [b. 1934], Genesis: A Living Conversation, 77)
Victor P. Hamilton (b. 1952) pronounces:
We hear in the narrative the voice of both law and grace. Sin cannot be ignored and justified. Cain must pay a penalty for his actions. But the God who pronounces the sentence also makes available to the criminal his protection and concern that he too not become a victim of violence. Cain is banned and blessed. He is a marked man, in a positive sense. He leaves God’s presence but not God’s protection. What God would later say about Mount Sinai—“whoever touches the mountain shall be put to death” (Exodus 19:12)—he first said about Cain. (Hamilton, The Book of Genesis, Chapters 1-17 (New International Commentary on the Old Testament Series), 235)
A. Samuel Kimball (b. 1959) scrutinizes:
The sign both condemns him as a murderer and protects him from being murdered in turn; it blesses him with freedom from the very aggression he has directed against his brother. By virtue of the sign God places over Cain’s being, Cain lives as a witness to the fact that the gift of life is, in Jacques Derrida [1930-2004]’s terms, a gift of death. In his person he embodies the message that there can be no pure blessing, no pure birthright, that there can be no life that does not entail the sacrifice of other life, and that whatever blessing can come to pass must be measured against the lost futures which, by definition are beyond imagination. In short, he incarnates twice over the divided nature of all hailing: the hailing by which a (potential) subject is interpellated either into or out of existence; and the hailing by which each living person nevertheless bears the trace of the other life or lives that might have been interpellated into being if this person had not. (Kimball, The Infanticidal Logic of Evolution and Culture, 167)
Like his father, Adam (Genesis 3:24), the son is exiled (Genesis 4:12, 14). In both cases, there is also a tangible sign left as a reminder. Gordon J. Wenham (b. 1943) connects:
As the clothing given to Adam and Eve after the fall (Genesis 3:21) served to remind them of their sin and God’s mercy, so does the mark placed on Cain: “As a protective device against potential enemies it may stay death; in that sense, the anticipated punishment is softened. But at the same time it serves as a constant reminder of Cain’s banishment, his isolation from other people” (George W. Coats [1936-2006]). (Wenham, Genesis 1-15 (Word Biblical Commentary), 65)
John H. Walton (b. 1952) concurs:
In Genesis 4:15, the provision of a sign/mark treats Cain comparably to how his parents were treated. The mark placed on Cain plays a parallel role in this narrative to the garments provided for Adam and Eve in Genesis 3:21. These acts of grace serve as God’s protective provision for the new environment. In both cases it is God’s response to their recognition of the vulnerability that resulted from their offense (Adam and Eve had used fig leaves to try to cover themselves [Genesis 3:7]; Cain complained that he would be killed [Genesis 4:14]). Just as it did not matter where God got the animal skin or what it looked like [Genesis 3:21], it is of little importance what the sign is like and how it functions. In both cases the importance of the gift is in the One who gave it. (Walton, Genesis (NIV Application Commentary), 265-66)
Ronald Youngblood (b. 1931) refocuses:
Although we cannot be sure of the details, we can certainly marvel that the Lord would promise to protect so violent a man as Cain. (Youngblood, The Book of Genesis: An Introductory Commentary, 65)
God limits the death toll. Richard D. Nelson (b. 1945) comments:
The theme that humans make bad decisions that have a potential to do great harm will reappear in the stories of Cain (Genesis 4:1-16), the prelude to the flood (Genesis 6:1-8) and Babel (Genesis 11:1-9). Dangerous human potential will again need to be controlled, by a mark on Cain [Genesis 4:15], by limits on human life span [Genesis 6:3], and by language confusion [Genesis 11:7]. (Nelson, From Eden to Babel: An Adventure in Bible Study, 18)
God’s limiting humanity’s destructiveness becomes a pattern. Wolfhart Pannenberg (b. 1928) detects:
In the paradise story death is the penalty for eating the forbidden fruit [Genesis 2:17], but the entry of death is delayed, so that what we now have is a limited life span. Similarly Cain, after murdering his brother, is protected though his life forfeited (Genesis 4:15). The biblical history offers a series of examples of God’s limiting the destructive results of the sins of his people. In view of the universality of sin, the rareness of manifest outbreaks of evil is by no means self-evident. It is the consequence of God’s gracious sparing and protecting, and human ingratitude for this in the form of taking for granted the good things that happen is yet another expression of sin. (Pannenberg, Systematic Theology, Volume 2, 238)
God’s continual care for sinning humans stands in stark contrast to other ancient deities. Nahum M. Sarna (1923-2005) contrasts:
The Babylonians believed that when a man sinned his god abandoned him, allowing demons to enter his body. Although Cain was a murderer, God did not desert him but protected him with his sign as he wandered [Genesis 4:15]. Spilling Abel’s blood on the ground caused it to be cursed and all growth stopped [Genesis 4:11-12], as in the Ugaritic Tale of Aqhat,...15th-14th centuries B.C., when the goddess Anat had young Prince Aqhat slain in order to have his strong bow: “...through his death...the [fr]uits of summer are withered, the ear [in] its husk...Blasted are the buds.” In Aqhat’s tale, his sister Paghat swore, “I’ll slay the slayer of my brother, [Destroy] the [de]stroyer of my [si]bling.” Cain’s divine protection was a Biblical indictment against such blood feuds in which a family or tribe member sought to avenge the death of a kinsman. (Ada Feyerick [b. 1928], Genesis: World of Myths and Patriarchs, 67)
Perhaps the mark of Cain is left ambiguous in part to keep the focus in its proper place: on God’s activity. Gerhard Von Rad (1901-1971) expounds:
The narrative surprisingly does not conclude with this picture of the condemned murderer. Indeed, one must say that only now does it reach its most important point: Cain does not have the last word in this story, but rather God, who now places Cain’s forfeited life under strict protection. Yahweh obviously placed the sign on Cain’s body [Genesis 4:15]; the narrator appears to be thinking of a tattoo or something similar. This sign, however, is not to disgrace him but to refer to that mysterious protective relationship in which Cain would henceforth be held by God. The conclusion of the story, according to which Cain then goes forth “away from the presence of the Lord [Genesis 4:16],” completely sharpens the riddle of his future existence: because of his murder he is cursed by separation from God and yet incomprehensibly guarded and supported by God’s protection. Even his life belongs to God, and he does not abandon it. (Von Rad, Genesis: A Commentary (Old Testament Library), 107)
The mark of Cain is far from a curse; it serves to safeguard the murderer’s life. It is not punitive, but rather protective. Leon R. Kass (b. 1939) remarks:
The mark of Cain—wrongly regarded as the sign of murderous guilt—is, in fact, meant to protect Cain’s life in the wilderness, and to obviate the need for settled defense [Genesis 4:15]. As a result of this solicitous speech, Cain may at this moment glimpse the difference between a god to whom one sacrifices vegetables and the God who takes notice of, and who is outraged by, bloodshed (and who, at least for now, provides even for murderers). But moved more by dread than by reverence, Cain does not draw the most pious conclusion. Reassured but only temporarily, Cain sets out on his travels [Genesis 4:16]. (Kass, The Beginning of Wisdom: Reading Genesis, 144)
W. Sibley Towner (b. 1933) adds:
The act of grace occurs. God puts the mark on Cain, the mark of both guilt and protection [Genesis 4:15]. It will ward off anyone who would take vengeance on Cain. Anyone who would snap the link between the Eden of the past and the Eden of the future, or who would cut off human evolution before it can begin will be warned and deterred. (Towner, Genesis (Westminster Bible Companion), 64)
The sign’s positive attributes can be seen in the term for the marker. Thomas L. Brodie (b. 1940) studies:
Within the context of the close-knit fabric of Genesis, the word “sign” picks up one of the threads of creation—the lights in the heavens, which were “signs” (Genesis 1:14)—and “sign” links up also with the later sign in the heavens, the covenant rainbow (Genesis 9:13). As the sign of the rainbow moved beyond sin, indicating peace, so, in some way, did the sign on Cain; it did not allow sin to be the final word. Thus the creational theme, already noticed in Cain’s birth [Genesis 4:1], now continues. God is giving Cain a further element of creation, some form of second birth...In later centuries this positive sign was turned into something negative—“the mark of Cain,” a way of identifying an alleged criminal. But the original idea was positive, and it contained an implicit protest against blood-feud—the practice, found especially around the Mediterranean, of revenge through death, thus provoking at times a cycle of avenging deaths. (Brodie, Genesis as Dialogue: A Literary, Historical, and Theological Commentary, 154)
God is and has always been gracious. Donald E. Gowan (b. 1929) proclaims:
It was not the New Testament that first taught that God loves the unlovable. Cain is scarcely an endearing character, moving as he has from anger to violence to resentment, yet God’s judgment upon him is mixed with mercy (Genesis 4:15). It is not God’s intention that one killing should produce more. He uses the oath of a family avenger of blood (Judges 8:18-21; II Samuel 2:22-23, 3:26-30; II Kings 14:5), but here as a guardian who intends to prevent bloodshed rather than as an executioner. We are given not one clue as to the nature of the mark, and much time has been wasted on pure speculation as to what it might have been; indeed, since nothing suggests that anyone but Cain has ever borne it, the question is completely irrelevant. Its only meaning as the story is told is as a sign of God’s grace, even grace towards the archetype of violent mistreatment of one’s brothers and sisters. Here as elsewhere we are assured that even in the midst of God’s just judgment of our sins he intervenes to save us from the worst possible consequences we might bring upon ourselves. (Gowan, Genesis 1-11: From Eden to Babel (International Theological Commentary), 72)
Derek Kidner (1913-2008) praises:
God’s concern for the innocent (Genesis 4:10) is matched only by His care for the sinner. Even the querulous prayer of Cain had contained a germ of entreaty; God’s answering pledge together with His mark or sign (the same word as in Genesis 9:13, 17:11) – not a stigma but a safe-conduct – is almost a covenant, making Him virtually Cain’s gō’ēl or protector; cf. II Samuel 14:14b...It is the utmost that mercy can do for the unrepentant. (Kidner, Genesis (Tyndale Old Testament Commentaries), 76)
Though exiled (Genesis 4:12), God’s marks forever attaches the murderer to the deity. Celia Brewer Marshall (b. 1954) avows:
God marks Cain as God’s own forever. It is a permanent mark of God’s guardianship and custody. While hardly a badge of honor, it is incorrect to read the “mark of Cain” as folklore has mistakenly interpreted it. It is neither a bull’s-eye for hit men nor a brand for shame. The mark is a sign of God’s continued protection and mercy, like the clothing of Genesis 3:21. God is in effect saying, “This mark tells the world you are mine. If anyone comes after you, he’ll have to answer to me.” (Marshall, Genesis (Interpretation Bible Studies), 25)
André LaCocque (b. 1927) theorizes:
Everywhere he goes Cain is carrying the mark of God. Not a tattoo; not a branded stamp; not a tribal emblem (at most, something like Zeus’s aegis); but rather perhaps, just his humanity, in the image of God. An interesting Misrashic reading of Genesis 4:15 (in Genesis Rabbah 22) has God setting Cain in person as a sign of warning not to kill him or as a sign addressed to all people willing to repent. From a syntactical point of view, this Midrashic translation is not without foundation; the Wilhelm Gesenius [1786-1842]-Emil Kautzsch [1841-1910]-A.E. Cowley [1861-1931] grammar refers to the construction of Isaiah 5:20. (LaCocque, Onslaught against Innocence: Cain, Abel, and the Yahwist, 67-68)
Helmut Thielicke (1908-1986) sermonizes:
Even Cain is not altogether forsaken in the land of Nod. Even about him God throws a circle of protection and put upon him a sign, the mark of Cain, which makes him taboo [Genesis 4:15]. Even the guilt-laden man remains God’s property. He too is given room to repent...In centuries past the judge who had condemned a murderer to death would partake of the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper with him before his execution. By doing this he was saying to him, “You poor, lost sinner, whom we are about to do to death, are nevertheless something totally different from what we human beings see in you. You are not merely a man who has been branded with the curse of society; you are still part of another, invisible order, that can grant you a grace and pardon over which we human beings have no control. You bear the mysterious mark of Cain that makes you the property of Another—just as we judges are the property of that Other and therefore stand in an ultimate solidarity with you.” (Thielicke, How the World Began: Sermons on the Creation Story, 227-28)
The sign is not named nor described. This is good. This way the sign does not detract from its own meaning: God is just yet manages to parlay the grace that the murderer did not.

Do you have positive or negative associations with the mark of Cain? Should the mark put Cain at ease or be a perpetual reminder of his sin? Where else do grace and judgment intertwine? When has a sign detracted from its own message? What other marks are you familiar with? Are you marked by God? If so, how?

“It is mercy, not justice or courage or even heroism, that alone can defeat evil.” - Peter J. Kreeft (b. 1937), The Philosophy of [J.R.R.] Tolkien [1892-1973]: The Worldview Behind the Lord of the Rings, p. 217

Wednesday, January 29, 2014

Five Husbands?!?! (John 4:18)

How many husbands did “the woman at the well” have? Five (John 4:18)

Jesus’ encounter with the Samaritan woman at Jacob’s well in Sychar is one of the longest and most intense discussions recorded in the gospels (John 4:7-38). Though the renowned divine appointment forms a self-contained unit within John’s gospel, it has been argued that the scene is best appreciated when juxtaposed with Jesus’ preceding encounter with Nicodemus (John 3:1-21). See Mary Margaret Pazdan (b. 1942), “Nicodemus and the Samaritan Woman: Contrasting Models of Discipleship”, Biblical Theology Bulletin: A Journal of Bible and Culture 17 (1987), pp. 145-48.

The conversation is one, that culturally speaking, should never have happened. Jesus simply should not be with this woman. R. Alan Culpepper (b. 1946) acknowledges:

The tension between Jesus and the Samaritan woman crosses four levels: gender, nationality, race, and religion. In the course of the conversation, all four barriers are crossed and community is created. This story, therefore, is the Johannine equivalent of the story in Acts 8:5-24 about how the gospel reached the Samaritans. (Culpepper, The Gospel and Letters of John: (Interpreting Biblical Texts Series), 139)
The dialogue also features taboo subjects seldom discussed publicly as it encompasses politics, religion and the woman’s sexual history (John 4:7-30). Among the facts unearthed is that the woman has had five husbands and this revelation is awkwardly divulged.(John 4:18).

The discourse between Jesus and the Samaritan woman divides into two parts (John 4:7-15, 4:16-27). After addressing the theological controversies of the period, Jesus abruptly (and intentionally) changes the subject to an even more sensitive issue.

He [Jesus] said to her, “Go, call your husband and come here.” The woman answered and said, “I have no husband.” Jesus said to her, “You have correctly said, ‘I have no husband’; for you have had five husbands, and the one whom you now have is not your husband; this you have said truly.” (John 4:16-18 NASB)
The conversation turns when Jesus instructs the woman to summon her husband. Margaret M. Beirne follows:
With John 4:16, the dynamic shifts as the Johannine Jesus turns the conversation towards the woman’s private life...By having Jesus extend it to her ‘husband’, the narrator is deliberately setting the scene for the woman’s confession (in faith, not moral terms) of her mounting perception of who Jesus is. Whatever is implied by the reference to ‘five husbands’ (John 4:18a), it is not meant to be the focus, but is primarily a way of bringing the woman (and the implied reader) to a further stage of recognizing and witnessing to the identity of Jesus. (Beirne, Women and Men in the Fourth Gospel: A Genuine Discipleship of Equals, 82)
Since Jesus changes the topic from “living water” (John 4:7-15) after the woman has missed his figurative point (John 4:15), it appears that the first portion of the conversation fails. As such, the inquiry into her husband could represent a second attempt.

David Seeley (b. 1956) analyzes:

Hendrikus Boers [b. 1928] recognizes that what he calls the first narrative “subsequence” between Jesus and the Samaritan woman (John 4:6-7, 9-15) “fails in every aspect.” The woman understands neither Jesus’ mission nor his identity. Even in the second “subsequence” (John 4:16-21, 23-26, 28-29), “the woman’s recognition that Jesus may be the messiah” is still couched in terms of “the clearly mistaken sense of a miracle worker.” Nevertheless, Boers maintains that the meaning of the phrase “living water” does become manifest in the woman. “As far as the woman is concerned, it means to participate in Jesus’ doing of his Father’s work.” (Seeley, Deconstructing the New Testament, 120)
It is Jesus who directs the conversation to the topic of men (John 4:16). Through a psychological lens, Jean-Marc Chappuis (1924-1986) evaluates:
Jesus would have been a bad Rogerian...the gospel conversations, in fact, notably those reported by John and even more especially those with Nicodemus [John 3:1-21] and the Samaritan woman [John 4:7-30], testify that he accomplishes only two-thirds of Carl Rogers [1902-1987]’s program. He practices empathy. He perceives and respects the internal frame of reference of those to whom he is speaking. On other hand, he does not submit to Rogers’ third precept, which is that of non-directness. On the contrary, he does direct the attention of his interlocutors authoritatively towards a new horizon at their existence, towards a possibility offered them to live differently. (Chappuis, “Jesus and the Samaritan Woman: The Variable Geometry of Communication,” The Ecumenical Review, 34, no. 1 (1982):12)
The change of subject does not flow naturally and in modern vernacular Jesus appears to be committing a “party foul”. Mark W.G. Stibbe (b. 1960) explores:
At this point, something very strange occurs. We have what appears to be another non sequitur. Instead of pursuing the topic of the living water, Jesus suddenly changes the subject and says, “Go, call your husband and come back’. The South African scholar J. Eugene Botha [b. 1959] has examined this statement in light of speech act theory. He proposes that at this point Jesus breaks one of the ‘cooperation principles’ upon which all conversations depend. This ‘cooperation principle’ goes as follows: ‘make your conversation contribution such as it is required, at the stage at which it occurs, by the accepted purpose or direction of the talk-exchange in which you are engaged’...One of the four maxims of this cooperation principle is the maxim of relation, ‘which requires that the contribution must be relevant in the talk exchange’...Botha’s view is that Jesus flouts the maxim of relations. He likens the dialogue at this point to the following exchange: ‘A says: “Don’t you think Fred sometimes acts like an idiot?” To which B replies: “I planted some shrubs yesterday”’...What Botha proposes is that Jesus, up until John 4:16, is engaged in a fruitless conversation. He therefore deliberately flouts the maxim in order to pursue a more hopeful topic...Botha...is right to say that Jesus appears to flout the maxim of relation, but he is wrong to say that the conversation up until that moment was ‘a failure’, and he is equally wrong to imply that Jesus’ behaviour here reveals that he is a poor conversationalist. The fact is, Jesus’ language in this exchange is an example of what the literary critics call ‘discontinuous dialogue’ (A.D. Nuttall [1937-2007] 1980: 128-38). Throughout the fourth gospel, Jesus employs a ‘technique of deliberate transcendence’ in his use of language...‘The gaps in Jesus’ dialogue imply a transcending compliment, a supernature’ (Nutall 1980: 133). Nowhere is this truer than in John 4:16. (Stibbe, John’s Gospel (New Testament Readings))
The irregularity of Jesus’ inquiry is seen in the woman’s response: “I have no husband” (John 4:17). Jack W. Stallings (b. 1944) assumes:
Jesus has clearly hit a nerve. For the first time, she has no rejoinder. She can but curtly reply, “I have no husband.” [John 4:17] She is not at all eager to discuss this subject. Jesus, however, is not about to let her off the hook. (Stallings, The Gospel of John (The Randall House Bible Commentary), 67)
The woman seemingly deflects. Some have viewed her attempts to conceal her marital history as evidence of guilt. Others have reminded that her avoidance is not because Jesus’ command to summon her husband is misunderstood but rather because it simply cannot be followed. Consequently, the woman need not be perceived as being deliberately evasive. Both views could be (at least partially) correct.

Jesus’ direction could very well have been a conversation killer. The woman certainly tries to end this line of questioning. Andreas J. Köstenberger (b. 1957) suspects:

The woman’s response, “I have no husband,” seems designed to cut off further conversation along these lines (D. A. Carson [b. 1946] 1991:221). Laurence Cantwell (1983:80) aptly sees her “clinging rather pathetically to her privacy and some semblance of respectability,” using “a not very clever equivocation which Christ dramatically exposes, to reveal a life which is not so much immoral [though it is that!] as a mess, a broken series of false beginnings and shattered hopes.” In fact, though technically truthful, the woman’s statement is potentially misleading (Craig S. Keener [b. 1960] 2003:605; hence Jesus’ gentle yet firm response, in which he places ἄνδρα [andra, husband] in an emphatic grammatical position [Daniel B. Wallace [b. 1952] 1996:455]).On the face of it, it could be taken to imply that she was unattached and thus available...Jesus, with fine irony, quickly removes all doubt: “You have had five men, and the one you have now is not your husband.” (Köstenberger, John (Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament), 152)
D. A. Carson (b. 1946) scrutinizes:
The woman’s truculent I have no husband was formally true, if her five former husbands were all deceased or divorced; but doubtless her intention was to ward off any further probing of this sensitive area of her life, while masking the guilt and hurt. Jesus exposes the whole truth (as the woman herself later admits, John 4:29, 30), but in the gentlest possible way: he commends her for her formal truthfulness [John 4:17], while pointing out that she has had five husbands (presumably each had died or divorced her) and the man with whom she is now sleeping is not her legal husband at all. (Carson, The Gospel according to John (Pillar New Testament Commentary), 221)
In introducing a new topic, Jesus progresses the conversation from abstract theory to personal history, from head to heart. Kevin D. Huggins (b. 1951) assesses:
Jesus used the concern that was of most interest to the Samaritan woman at the time (worship) to help her discover something about her own heart she desperately needed to change. (Huggins, Friendship Counseling: Jesus’ Model for Speaking Life-Words to Hurting People, 123)
To paraphrase a modern expression, all of a sudden stuff just got real. Jean-Marc Chappuis (1924-1986) generalizes:
The most commonplace communication may expand to become suddenly firm and substantial. That clearly is what happens in the meeting between Jesus and the Samaritan woman. (Chappuis, “Jesus and the Samaritan Woman: The Variable Geometry of Communication,” The Ecumenical Review, 34, no. 1 (1982):11)
Jesus alerts the woman that she has had five husbands and is presently living with a sixth man (John 4:18). Her personal history is alarming even to the contemporary reader: She has assembled a basketball starting five with a sixth man to come off of the bench!

Some interpreters have sought significance in the number five. In addition to the Samaritan woman’s five husbands (John 4:18), John’s gospel documents that Bethesda features five porticoes (John 5:2) and Jesus uses five barley loaves (John 6:9, 13) to feed the five thousand (John 6:10).

Craig R. Koester (b. 1953) informs:

Augustine [354-430]...explains the numbers in the Gospel with considerable consistency, using the dichotomy between imperfection under the Mosaic Law and perfection in faith, love, or the Spirit (II Corinthians 3:6-9)...The five books of Moses were signified by the Samaritan woman’s five husbands (John 4:18); by the five porticoes at Bethzatha, which were ineffective for salvation (John 5:2); by the five barley loaves (John 6:9); and the crowd of five thousand people (John 6:10). (Koester, Symbolism in the Fourth Gospel: Meaning, Mystery, Community, 312-13)
Others have found meaning in the chronology of her personal life. Alan R. Kerr (b. 1942) relays:
Mark W.G. Stibbe [b. 1960]...points out that if the woman has had five husbands and is living de facto with a sixth, then Jesus is the seventh man in her life: ‘Since seven is the perfect number in Judaism, the implicit commentary must be that Jesus is the man which she has been waiting for, the man in whose presence she will find wholeness (σωτηρία).’ The surprise is that the bride is a Samaritan and not a Jew. Jesus, the bridegroom, is the Saviour of the world (John 4:42) not just of the Jewish people. (Kerr, The Temple of Jesus’ Body: The Temple Theme in the Gospel of John, 171-72)
The woman’s sexual history has become her defining attribute because it is the only biographical detail presented in the text aside from her nationality (John 4:7, 9). This descriptive sparseness is typical of John’s gospel.

R. Alan Culpepper (b. 1946) apprises:

John’s characterization is...peculiar in that it does not give the age or physical characteristics of any character. Only the barest outline of their past is ever related: the Samaritan woman had five husbands [John 4:18], the lame man had been afflicted for thirty-eight years [John 5:5], and the blind man had been blind from birth [John 9:1]. Instead, the characters are individualized by their position in society and their interaction with Jesus. This means that they may easily become types. They are not so individualized that they have much of a “personality.” On the other hand, their position in society and interactions with Jesus are verisimilar and realistic. They must be for the reader to accept them and, more importantly, accept the evangelist’s characterization of Jesus. (Culpepper, Anatomy of the Fourth Gospel: A Study in Literary Design, 145)
Despite the paucity of data, Adele Reinhartz (b. 1953) infers:
The age of the woman in this case is not known; the references to her husbands indicate that she is an adult; the allusion to the biblical betrothal motif (“boy meets girl at well”) implies that she is of the same generation as Jesus. The fact that she encounters Jesus at a well near but not within the geographical boundaries of her community may imply that she has gained her knowledge of and commitment to this message while she was away from the community, and that she has returned in order to preach to them. (Amy-Jill Levine [b. 1956] with Marianne Blickenstaff [b. 1959], “Women in the Johannine Community: An Exercise in Historic Imagination”, A Feminist Companion to John: Volume II, 22-23)
The woman’s marital status is emphasized. Robert H. Mounce (b. 1921) mentions:
It is worth noting that when the woman denied having a husband, she placed the crucial word aner (“husband,” Edward W. Goodrick [1913-1992] & John R. Kohlenberger III [b. 1951] 467) at the end of the clause. Jesus in his response placed it first, thus adding considerable emphasis. (Tremper Longman III [b. 1952] and David E. Garland [b. 1947], Luke~Acts (The Expositor’s Bible Commentary))
The Greek word anēr can literally indicate that the woman has had five “men” but virtually no prominent translations present the text this way, instead opting for the traditional “husbands” (ASV, CEV, ESV, HCSB, KJV, MSG, NASB, NIV, NKJV, NLT, NRSV, RSV).

Adeline Fehribach (b. 1950) recognizes:

If five legal husbands is unlikely, should the passage read, “You have had five ‘men’ and the one you are with now is not your ‘husband.’” This translation would imply that she was never legally married to any of the men in her life, a position supported by Laurence Cantwell and Hendrikus Boers [b. 1928]. (Fehribach, The Women in the Life of the Bridegroom: A Feminist Historical-Literary Analysis of the Female Characters in the Fourth Gospel, 68)
Andreas J. Köstenberger (b. 1957) considers:
It is perhaps...another instance of a wordplay...here involving the word ἀνήρ (anēr), which can mean either “man” or “husband.” If so, Jesus may be telling the woman that she has had five “men”(with whom she lived in fornication) and that the one she is now living with is not her “man,” that is, husband (though he may be that of another woman; note the emphatic position of “your” in the Greek.) In other words, the woman is a serial fornicator (see Charles H. Giblin [1928-2002] 1999). (Köstenberger, John (Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament), 152-53)
Johns Varghese (b. 1966) expounds:
The fact of the marriage of the woman seems to be based on the interpretation of the word “ἀνήρ” as “husband”. However as Hendrikus Boers [b. 1928] notes, “The parallel between ‘you had’ and ‘you have’, i.e., now, may suggest that none of the other men were her husbands either”. It may thus reflect an adulterous situation in which the Samaritan woman was living and had lived. The woman’s personal history matches her national history. (Varghese, The Imagery of Love in the Gospel of John, 130)
Jo-Ann A. Brant (b. 1956) assesses:
The relationship of a man (anēr) to a woman is determined by pronouns and context, so stress must be laid on the pronoun “your.” That the man with whom she lives is not her husband does not necessarily mean that he is someone else’s husband or that they have physical relations. She may be living with a close kin. The humiliating fact of having been married five times and five times widowed or rejected and not to be married at present would be sufficient cause to conceal her status. Jesus’s word of praise for a painful admission indicates that he has moved from playful banter to sincere speech [John 4:17]. (Brant, John (Paideia: Commentaries on the New Testament, 85)
If the Samaritan woman has had five husbands it would not only be highly irregular but many scholars have asserted that it would also be in violation of the rabbinic maximum. Andreas J. Köstenberger (b. 1957) notifies:
If the...rendering “five husbands,” is correct, then the woman found herself in conflict with Jewish law (contra Brooke Foss Westcott [1825-1901] 1908:1.154), since rabbis generally disapproved of more than three legal marriages in a lifetime, even in the case of the death of previous husbands (Babylonian Talmud Yebamot 64b; cf. Babylonian Talmud Niddah 64a). (Köstenberger, John (Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament), 152)
Rabbi Burton L. Visotzky (b. 1951) challenges:
Raymond E. Brown [1928-1998] follows Hermann Leberecht Strack [1848-1922] and Paul Billerbeck [1853-1932] in his comment, “Jews were only allowed three marriages.” This is wrong. The rabbinic law limiting marriages only applies when the previous husbands have died during the marriage, in which case the wife qualifies as a “killer wife” and is prevented from marrying further. In point of fact, a very famous rabbi disregarded the law to marry the woman he desired. Our passage simply points to the woman as a liar, but not necessarily “markedly immoral” as Brown construed her. (John R. Donahue [b. 1933], “Study of John’s Interaction with First-Century Judaism”, Life in Abundance: Studies of John's Gospel in Tribute to Raymond E. Brown [1928-1998], 99)
Inferences drawn from the woman’s marital history vary greatly. F. Scott Spencer (b. 1956) discusses:
As Mary Rose D’Angelo [b. 1946] observes, this exchange has generated astonishing “exegetical extravaganzas,” concocting various scenarios about the woman’s pathetic philandering or promiscuous past (“five-time loser”/“tramp”) or, in a thoroughly allegorical reading, interpreting her “husbands” as the alien gods of the five nations ancient Syria relocated in Samaria. (Spencer, Dancing Girls, Loose Ladies, and Women of the Cloth: The Women in Jesus’ Life, 91)
Mark Edwards (b. 1962) audits:
Augustine [354-430] thinks that the purpose of this exchange is to reveal Christ as the true spouse of the soul (Homily 15.19). Calum M. Carmichael [b. 1938] too interprets the scene as the ‘Johannine symbolical equivalent of a marriage’ (1979-80: 335)...Heracleon [second century] defends her by appeal to the Valentinian myth in which a penitent wisdom sows the seeds of spirit by fornicating with the cosmic powers (Origen [184-253], Commentary 13.25). The frequent association of promiscuity with idolatry (Ezekiel 16:51, etc.) lends some weight to the conjecture, endorsed by Sir Edwyn Hoskyns [1884-1937], that these husbands are the five cults which the Assyrians are said to have stalled in Samaria (1947: 242, citing I Kings 17:24-29). (Edwards, John Through the Centuries, 56)
Craig R. Koester (b. 1953) researches:
On a possible link between the woman’s personal situation and her quest for life see Rudolf Bultmann [1884-1976], The Gospel of John: A Commentary (translators G.R. Beasley-Murray [1916-2000], R.W.N. Hoare [b. 1940], and J.K. Riches [b. 1939]; Philadelphia 1971; German original 1941), 188; Dorothy A. Lee [b. 1953], Flesh and Glory: Symbolism, Gender and Theology In The Gospel of John (n. 2), 74. The gospel does not say whether the woman was divorced or widowed five times, but five husbands seems excessive, especially since she is living with a man to whom she is not married. Her personal history is often interpreted in terms of sin and unfaithfulness. Some respond that the woman could also be the victim of the sins of others, who divorced her for various reasons (Gail R. O’Day [b. 1954], “The Gospel of John,” New Interpreter’s Bible 9 [1995], 567). (Jörg Frey [b. 1962], Jan G. Van der Watt [b. 1952] and Ruben Zimmermann [b. 1968], “What does it mean to be human? Imagery and the Human Condition in John’s Gospel”, Imagery in the Gospel of John: Terms, Forms, Themes and Theology of Johannine Figurative Language, 410)
It is hard not to ask how the woman arrived at this place in life. Andrew T. Lincoln probes:
Jesus’...words...expose the woman’s previous marital history and present domestic arrangements [John 4:18]. But the force of these words has been hotly debated. Feminist readings of this passage are quite right to warn against importing into the text assumptions about women’s sexuality and to point out both that the text passes over the reasons for the woman’s marital history and that is not mentioned in order for Jesus to judge her for it. They also challenge readers to rethink whether that marital history necessarily suggests immortality. Sometimes it is suggested that perhaps she is trapped in the custom of levirate marriage and the last male in the family has refused to marry her. There is elsewhere the trick question put to Jesus by the Sadducees in Luke 20:23-27, based on the levirate custom, about a woman and seven brothers. But that deliberately pushed the custom to absurdity to try to make a point. It does not envisage marriage to six brothers as a likely occurrence. In fact, in first-century Judaism it was quite unusual to have more than three marriages in a lifetime...and, in any case, there is no indication that the sixth male here has refused to marry the Samaritan woman, which would be his right under levirate laws; instead, she is living with this man in a sexual relationship. Anyone in the woman’s situation would be bound to have been viewed as morally suspect. (Lincoln, The Gospel according to Saint John, (Black’s New Testament Commentary), 175)
Some interpreters have sought meaning in the fact that the story represents a recurring episode known as a “type scene”. The story of boy meets girl at a well certainly qualifies in the Bible.

R. Alan Culpepper (b. 1946) explores:

The encounter of the leading character with his future wife at a well is a conventional biblical type-scene (e.g., Abraham, Isaac [Genesis 24:10-61], Jacob [Genesis 29:1-20], and Moses [Exodus :15-22]). Allusions to the patriarch (John 4:5, 12) underline the scene’s scriptural associations. The encounter takes place in a foreign land, the protagonist is expected to do or say something characteristic of his role in the story, one or the other of them will draw water and the maiden will rush home and prepare for the man’s coming to meet her father and eat with them. A wedding will follow. In John, however, conventional elements are treated unconventionally; Jesus asks for water but apparently receives none. Dialogue rather than action carries the scene. Living water, of which Jesus is the source, rather than well water, to which the Samaritan woman has access, becomes the critical concern. And the woman is no marriageable maiden; she has had five husbands. Still, Jesus goes to her village, and she receives him as her Lord [John 4:28-30]. (Culpepper, Anatomy of the Fourth Gospel: A Study in Literary Design, 136)
Alan R. Kerr (b. 1942) supports:
Paul D. Duke [b. 1953] (Irony in the Fourth Gospel, pp. 101-03) argues that there is a betrothal scene, but John 4:18 introduces an ironical tone to it. Whereas in the betrothal scenes in the Old Testament the potential bridegroom speaks with a virgin, in John 4:18 it is revealed that Jesus is not talking to a virgin but with a ‘five-time loser.’ Calum M. Carmichael [b. 1938] (‘Marriage and the Samaritan Woman’, New Testament Studies 26 [1980], pp. 322-46) argues on theological rather than literary grounds that the narrative of John 4:4-42 presents Jesus and the Samaritan woman as husband and wife. (Kerr, The Temple of Jesus’ Body: The Temple Theme in the Gospel of John, 171)
Mark W.G. Stibbe (b. 1960) gleans:
Even though the story of the Samaritan woman appears to be about marriage, P. Joseph Cahill [b. 1923] argues that ‘the theme of the narrative is true worship’ and that ‘the controlling metaphor, skillfully contrived by the writer, is not that of marriage but of betrothal’ (p. 41). Many of the narrative characteristics of John 4 fit into the pattern of the Old Testament betrothal scene, especially the mention of Jacob’s well, which is a reminiscence of the well in the betrothal scene of Genesis 29:1-20. However, the marital symbolism and the betrothal echoes are figurative devices. ‘False worship, of which the Samaritan woman is but a symbol, is infidelity or adultery’ (p. 44). John 4:7-30 is an ironic betrothal scene in which infidelity is false worship and marriage true worship. (Stibbe, John as Storyteller: Narrative Criticism and the Fourth Gospel, 48)
In deference to this backdrop, Lyle Eslinger (b. 1953) poses that Jesus and the Samaritan woman are flirting and that Jesus’ reference to her husband is at the point in the conversation where the suitor learns if the woman to whom he speaking is available (John 4:16).

Kevin Quast (b. 1957) reviews:

If Lyle Eslinger [b. 1953] is right about the conversation between the woman and Jesus being filled with double entendres, then Jesus’ mention of her husband fits the context much better. “At the point where she expected to get his ‘living water’ Jesus’s command comes as a rebuke to her carnal misconceptions. Had she not been making sexual advances, had Jesus not understood them, and had the reader not understood both the reader and Jesus, his command to go call her husband would make no sense here. Jesus tells her to get her husband exactly when she expected to commit adultery against the man.” Jesus proceeds to completely shut down the direction she is heading and “now openly reveals his disinterest in her charms by demonstrating his supernatural knowledge of her past.” (R. Glenn Wooden [b. 1957], Timothy R. Ashley [b. 1947] and Robert S. Wilson [b. 1943], “The Samaritan Woman: An ‘Unorthodox Witness’ (John 4:1-42)”, You Will be My Witnesses: A Festschrift in Honor of the Reverend Dr. Allison A. Trites [b. 1936] on the Occasion of His Retirement, 102)
Not all view this pericope as a betrothal scene. Jan Gabriël Van der Watt (b. 1952) inspects:
The ‘well’ story might point to a ‘betrothal type scene’ on the basis of the Old Testament ‘well scenes;, as John Painter [b. 1935] (1993:200). Sjef Van Van Tilborg [1939-2003] (1993:183-84) supports Teresa Okure [b. 1941] in saying that the parallels are not definite. David Mark Ball (1996:62) also finds it unconvincing. (Van der Watt, Family of the King: Dynamics of Metaphor in the Gospel According to John, 229)
Sjef Van Tilborg (1939-2003) critiques:
The sexual freedom, ascribed to the women in the romance literature, is absent in the Johannine Gospel (although the five husbands of the Samaritan woman are no barrier for her to be in touch with Jesus). Generally speaking...eroticism is absent in the Johannine women. (Van Tilborg, Imaginative Love in John, 177)
Adeline Fehribach (b. 1950) adds:
Jesus changes the subject by instructing the Samaritan woman to go call her husband (ἄνδρα) and then return (John 4:16). This is an unconventional statement for a betrothal type-scene. Although the woman’s statement that she has no husband (John 4:17a) appears to restore the type-scene, such restoration is short-lived. (Fehribach, The Women in the Life of the Bridegroom: A Feminist Historical-Literary Analysis of the Female Characters in the Fourth Gospel, 63)
Given the fantastic nature of having five husbands, allegorical interpretations have emerged throughout the centuries. J.D.M. Derrett (1922-2012) posits that the five husbands represent the “five senses” known to Jews and Greeks (“The Samaritan Woman’s Pitcher,” The Downside Review 102 (1984) 252-61). This approach, however, is uncommon.

Most allegorical readings connect the Samaritan woman to her people. Jerome H. Neyrey (b. 1940) introduces:

Using allegorical methods of interpretation, critics have attempted to identify the five husbands (John 4:18) with the five books of Samaritan Pentateuch or with the five gods (ba’al as husband/god) which the Samaritans were said to worship. (Neyrey, The Gospel of John in Cultural and Rhetorical Perspective, 112)
Daniel Rathnakara Sadananda (b. 1963) bolsters:
It has been observed, ‘the husband/husbands’ are important to the Evangelist’s story as his tendency to present women independent shows, the mother of Jesus, the Samaritan woman, Mary, Martha, Mary Magdalene (cf. John 11:1-53, 12:1-18, 19:25, 20:1-2, 11-18). Then the talk of husband/man or husbands/men must point towards a symbolic interpretation. (Sadananda, The Johannine Exegesis Of God: An Exploration Into The Johannine Understanding Of God, 240)
Francis J. Moloney (b. 1940) expounds:
Much is made of the five husbands...as a possible symbolic use of the number five to refer to the five gods of Samaria (cf. Josephus [37-100], Antiquities 9.2888), or the five books of the Samaritan Pentateuch (Origen [184-253], In Johannem 13.8 [Jacques Paul Migne [1800-1875], Patrologia Graeca 14:410-411]), or the five foreign cities that brought their gods (there were in fact seven, but recourse is had to Josephus for the number five) with them (II Kings 17:27-31). The man with whom she is presently living, who is not her husband, has been identified with Simon Magus (cf. James D. Purvis [b. 1932], “The Fourth Gospel and the Samaritans” 193-95). These symbolic readings are widespread among those who see the Samaritan woman as a representative figure for all Samaritans (cf. Alfred Loisy [1857-1940], Le quatrième Évangile 182; Oscar Cullmann [1902-1999], “Samaria and the Origins of the Christian Mission” 187-88). In the light of Jesus’ comments in John 4:17 (“you are right in saying”) and John 4:18 (“this you said truly”), C.K. Barrett [1917-2011] (The Gospel according to St. John 235) is correct when he comments: “It is quite possible, and may well be right, to take these words as a simple statement of fact, and an instance of supernatural knowledge of Jesus.” (Moloney, The Gospel of John (Sacra Pagina), 131-132)
Urban C. Von Wahlde (b. 1941) supports:
Some have suggested that “five” represents the five pagan gods mentioned in II Kings 17:24 and worshipped by Samaritans. This is strengthened by the fact that the Hebrew word ba’al (“lord,” “master”) was the word used for “husband” and was also used to refer to a pagan deity. The sixth man, to whom she is not married, represents the God of Israel. However, in II Kings 17:30-31, a total of seven pagan gods are mentioned. However, Josephus [37-100] mentions five (Antiquities 9.14.3§288). Origen [184-253] (In Johannem 13:8) understood this as a reference to the fact that Samaritans considered only the five books of Moses sacred. The Palestinian Targum on Genesis 28:10 mentions that Jacob performed five signs (José Ramón Díaz, “Palestinian Targum and New Testament”). (Von Wahlde, The Gospel and Letters of John, Volume 2: The Gospel of John (Eerdmans Critical Commentary), 174)
Though allegorical readings have fallen out of favor, some contemporary exegetes still adhere to them. Gerald Sloyan (b. 1919) exemplifies:
The whole story is fraught with symbolism, so much so that we are right to doubt the literal truth of the woman’s having five husbands and not being married to her present partner (John 4:18). Aside from the inherent improbability of such a career, there is the fact that Samaritans were stigmatized as “Cuthians” (Berakoth 7:1, and so throughout the Mishnah), a tribe of the Assyrian Empire in II Kings 17:24, 30. These were one of the five idolatrous peoples of the East identified in Second Kings by their gods and consorts (II Kings 17:30-31). If the woman’s five husbands were these peoples, the present liaison of the Samaritans at the stone surface of sacrifice on Gerizim would be the sixth: an idolatrous cult in Jewish eyes. (Sloyan, John (Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching), 55)
Andrew T. Lincoln (b. 1944) defends:
Against this approach it is objected that the polemic of the latter passage actually mentions seven gods worshipped by five ethnic groups, or that there is no parallel to the successiveness of the woman’s five different husbands. However, the use to which this traditional polemic was later put suggested to Jews that the idolatry of the nations that had settled in Samaria was associated with the number five. Josephus [37-100], Antiquities 9.14.31-32 says that ‘each of them, according to their nations, which were in number five, brought their own gods into Samaria, and by worshipping them...provoked Almighty God to be angry and displeased at them.’ To push the issue of successiveness is to treat the matter of allusion too literally. All that is required is that the woman, in representing Samaria, had a history involving five husbands. That the man she was now living with was not her husband would have suggested the common Jewish view that the Samaritans’ present claim to worship Yahweh was not a valid one. And in pointing out that the man she was with was not her husband, Jesus would be acting in the role of God’s prophet, as did, for example, Hosea, when he states on behalf of Yahweh, ‘plead with our mother, please – for she is not my wife, and I am not her husband – that she put away her whoring from her face, and her adultery from between her breasts’ (Hosea 2:2). (Lincoln, The Gospel according to Saint John, (Black’s New Testament Commentary), 175-76)
Sandra M. Schneiders (b. 1936) argues:
The dialogue on the five husbands is integral to the discussion of Samaritan faith and theology, and the “husbands” are therefore symbolic rather than literal...First, the exchange about the husband occurs...not as prelude to theological discussion but in the midst of it, that is, after the woman has perceived Jesus’ implicit claim to equality with the patriarchs and before she acknowledges him to be a prophet...Second, if the scene itself is symbolically the incorporation of Samaria into the New Israel, the bride of the new Bridegroom, which is suggested by the type scene itself, then the adultery/idolatry symbolism so prevalent in the prophetic literature for speaking of Israel’s infidelity to Yahweh the Bridegroom would be a most apt vehicle for discussion of the anomalous religious situation of Samaria...The third point...Jesus’ revelation to the woman who symbolizes Samaria, of her infidelity is not a display of preternatural knowledge that convinces the woman of Jesus’ power (and thus her helplessness before him), embarrassing her into a diversionary tactic in an effort to escape moral exposure. Rather, it is exactly what she acknowledges it to be when she says in response to his revelation, “I perceive that you are a prophet” (John 4:19). Jesus’ declaration that Samaria “has no husband,” is a classic prophetic denunciation of false worship...In summary, the entire dialogue between Jesus and the woman is the “wooing” of Samaria to full covenant fidelity in the New Israel by Jesus, the New Bridegroom. It has nothing to do with the covenant life of the community. (John Ashton [b. 1931], “A Case Study: A Feminist Interpretation of John 4:1-42”, The Interpretation of John (Studies in New Testament Interpretation), 247-49)
John Shelby Spong (b. 1931) interjects:
People forget that this woman is a mythological symbol of Samaria and so they read this statement moralistically, as if this were a commentary on her loose sexual proclivities. They even suggest that the woman was trying abruptly to change the subject from her questionable past to a debate about the proper place for worship. To read this story that way, however, is to miss its meaning totally. This is a symbolic conversation about how the unfaithful region of Samaria can be incorporated into the new understanding of Christianity that Jesus is believed to present and about how ancient religious divisions in the human family can be overcome in the new human consciousness that Jesus comes to bring. (Spong, Tales of a Jewish Mystic)
The allegorical reading makes the Samaritan woman a representative sample of her people. Johns Varghese (b. 1966) asserts:
In order to interpret this statement of Jesus, one has to first see whether the Samaritan woman can stand as a representative figure for her people or not...Jesus addresses the Samaritan woman as “γύναι” (woman). In John 4:21 the Samaritan woman is addressed first in the singular and then in the plural (λέγει αὐτη ὁ ’Ιησους...γύναι...προσυνήσετε τω πατρί). The plural προσυνήσετε is a true plural and stands for the Samaritan people represented by the Samaritan woman. This is then continued by the use of further plurals in John 4:22 (ὑμεις προσκυνειτε ὃ οὐκ οἴδατε). Thus the Samaritan woman serves as the spokesperson of the Samaritan people. (Varghese, The Imagery of Love in the Gospel of John, 129)
The woman’s marital history befits a Samaritan. Craig R. Koester (b. 1953) surmises:
The text does not say whether she was divorced or widowed, but five husbands seems excessive...Moreover, the woman was living with a sixth man, either out of desire or necessity, in a relationship that was not a marriage. At best her story is tragic; at worst it is sinful. Yet the peculiar details of the woman’s life actually enhance her role as a representative of the Samaritan people. The woman’s personal history parallels her national history. (Koester, Symbolism in the Fourth Gospel: Meaning, Mystery, Community, 48-49)
Thomas L. Brodie (b. 1940) canvasses:
It has been indicated by a number of commentators that the woman, apart from her individual role, represents the people of Samaria (cf. especially Emanuel Hirsch [1888-1972] 1936, 146). Her only name is “woman of Samaria,” and the reference to five husbands has sometimes been seen as a veiled reference to Samaria itself and to its complex five fold background (cf. the five national groups mentioned in II Kings 17:29-31); Rudolf Schnackenburg [1914-2002], 1:433; Barnabas Lindars [1923-1991], 186-87; Adrien Lenglet, 1985, 494). In fact, there is a form of feminist hermeneutic which sees the five husbands in a way which is purely symbolic or representative and which effectively denies the literal meaning. But, as a general principle, the representative level does not exclude the literal level, and to say that in this case it does is ultimately a disservice to feminism. The woman has had five husbands, and, even in her many marriages, she is also representative. (Brodie, The Gospel According to John: A Literary and Theological Commentary, 216-217)
Despite notable support, the majority of scholars reject the allegorical reading. Herman C. Waetjen (b. 1929) surveys:
Rudolf Bultmann [1884-1976], The Gospel of John: A Commentary, 188, rejects all allegorical interpretations and declines to speculate about the significance of the number five. C.K. Barrett [1917-2011], The Gospel according to St. John, 35, prefers to take Jesus’ words in John 4:18 as a simple fact and “an instance of the supernatural knowledge of Jesus.” Ernst Haenchen [1894-1975], John (Hermeneia) I, 230 ignores the matter completely. Rudolf Schnackenburg [1914-2002], The Gospel according to St. John, translated by Kevin Smyth (New York: Herder & Herder, 1968) I, 433, dismisses all symbolic meanings as misleading. Gail R. O’Day [b. 1954], Revelation in the Fourth Gospel: Narrative Mode and Theological Claim, 66-67, does not explore any of these possibilities. Laurence Cantwell, “Immortal Longings in Sermone Humili: A Study of John 4:5–26,” poses the possibility of II Kings 17:29-34 but prefers to view the woman as a representation of all humanity and not merely the Samaritan people. Hendrikus Boers [b. 1928], Neither on this Mountain nor in Jerusalem, 171 maintains that the figure is of no significance except “to reveal Jesus’ miraculous knowledge.” (Waetjen, The Gospel of the Beloved Disciple: A Work in Two Editions, 169)
Reasons for dismissing the allegorical reading abound. For one, it does not fit the modus operandi of the gospel. Rudolf Bultmann (1884-1976) distinguishes, “The Evangelist does not use allegorization, but rather symbolic representation as his main literary device.” (Bultmann, The Gospel of John: A Commentary, 188)

Craig S. Keener (b. 1960) monitors:

This [allegorical interpretation] is problematic for several reasons. First, two of the five nations mentioned in the latter passage have two gods apiece, making seven altogether, not five. Further, if one so allegorizes the number here, the “five” of John 5:2 and John 6:9 must be allegorized to remain consistent, yet must be allegorized differently. Finally, the narrative makes nothing of such connections. (Keener, The Gospel of John: A Commentary, 606)
D. A. Carson (b. 1946) rejects:
The details do not work out. The transported settlers originally worshipped seven pagan deities, not five (II Kings 17:30-32, 41; Josephus [37-100], Antiquities ix.288 appears to have his facts wrong, possibly confused, like some modern expositors, by the five named cities from which the settlers were drawn), and these gods were all worshipped at the same time, not serially. Moreover, although it is true that John frequently uses institutions and details in symbolic ways...his symbolism in such cases is not only commonly predicated upon larger typologies connecting Jesus with the Old Testament, but in any case the symbolic value is tied to broader and demonstrable themes in the Fourth Gospel. The proposed symbolism in this instance fails both tests. (Carson, The Gospel according to John (Pillar New Testament Commentary), 232-33)
In responding to the discrepancy that the Samaritans actually worshiped seven, not five, deities (II Kings 17:30-31), Gerald S. Sloyan (b. 1919) contends that two of the gods are consorts (Sloyan, “The Samaritans in the New Testament,” Horizons 10 (1983) 10.

In addition to the disputed number of deities, the allegory itself also has shortcomings. James Montgomery Boice (1938-2000) confronts:

It is inconceivable that John the evangelist would picture Jesus as speaking of the five false gods as legitimate husbands, while referring to Jehovah as the One with whom the people were living in adultery. The whole of the biblical tradition, which John knew, would reverse that. (Boice, The Gospel of John, The Coming of the Light (John 1-4): An Expositional Commentary), 284)
James D. Purvis (b. 1932) specifies:
The woman was not said to have been a faithless wife—which would be the understanding if the ba‘al/husband was meant to be understood as Yahweh. It is the husband who is singled out: “he whom you now have is not your husband;” i.e., he has no right or claim to be your husband (ba‘al/lord). We are reminded of Justin Martyr [100-165]’s claim of the wide-spread acceptance of Simon Magus as a divine being by the people of Samaria (I Apology 26). That the husband who was not a true husband was a false teacher was suggested by Jerome [347-420]...who identified this person as Dositheus. (David E. Orton, “The Fourth Gospel and the Samaritans”, The Composition of John’s Gospel: Selected Studies from Novum Testamentum, 181)
Further, the allegorical reading does not fit the story’s broader setting. Benny Thettayil (b. 1967) contextualizes:
If the ‘husbands’ in John 4:16-18 have nothing to do with her personal life, what does she mean when she tells her people in the town, ‘Come and see a man who told me everything I have ever done!’ (John 4:29) when the gospel reports no statements of Jesus either regarding anything she had ever done or regarding her personal life except the mention of her ‘husbands’? From the historical point of view, John Henry Bernard [1860-1927] observes in this regard: ‘We cannot in any case assume that more than a fragment of the conversation is preserved, and much that was said is, no doubt, omitted in the narrative of John. Although this interpretation would give an explanation to John 4:29, we cannot accept Bernard’s opinion since it is an argument from silence. We would rather interpret the text on the basis of what is present in the text and what it tells us than on the basis of what is absent in the text. What is present in the text calls for a non-allegorical interpretation of the text. (Thettayil, In Spirit and Truth: An Exegetical Study of John 4:19-26 and a Theological Investigation of the Replacement Theme in the Fourth Gospel, 35)
Sjef Van Tilborg (1939-2003) concludes:
The story demands narratively that her five or six husbands are seen as real. Jesus’ revelation makes sense only, when one accents that they are real physical persons; and only then, it can become the main argument for her witness in the city. (Van Tilborg, Imaginative Love in John, 185)
Though the allegorical reading does not represent the prevailing scholarly opinion there is an ironic undercurrent in taking a literal approach. Stephen D. Moore (b. 1954) realizes:
The majority of Johannine commentators have preferred the literal reading of John 4:18 to the figurative one...At the same time, these commentators have scrupulously noted the repeated failure of the woman to grasp the nonliteral nature of Jesus’ discourse. In opting to take Jesus’ statement in John 4:18 at face value, then, they effectively trade places with the woman. They reenact what they purport to be describing. They mimic the literal-mindedness that marks her as inferior in their eyes. The standard reading of John 4:18 conceals a double standard, then. To interpret Jesus literally is a failing when the woman does it, but not when the commentators follow suit. (Amy-Jill Levine [b. 1956] with Marianne Blickenstaff [b. 1959], “Are There Impurities in the Living Water that the Johannine Jesus Dispenses?”, A Feminist Companion to John: Volume I, 83)
Even if the woman’s five husband’s have allegorical value, their literal presence must take precedence. R. Alan Culpepper (b. 1946) prioritizes:
It has often been suggested that the reference to five husbands is an allusion to the five nations that were settled in Samaria (II Kings 17:24). More immediate is the characterization of the woman as one who has been victimized by a series of marriages that for whatever reasons did not last, and who is now living with a man out of wedlock. (Culpepper, The Gospel and Letters of John: (Interpreting Biblical Texts Series), 141-42)
Five marriages would not necessarily announce an indictment against the woman. For instance, contemporary Christian author Elisabeth Elliot (b. 1926) has had three marriages and the Samaritan woman could be more Elisabeth Elliot than Elizabeth Taylor (1932-2011).

Frances Taylor Gench (b. 1956) recognizes:

The text tells us that the Samaritan woman had five husbands, but it does not tell us why. We do not know whether she has been divorced or widowed. Perhaps, like Tamar in Genesis 38:1-11, she is trapped in the custom of levirate marriage, and the last male in the family has refused to marry her, as Gail R. O’Day [b. 1954] suggests. Moreover, we should bear in mind that divorce (which is not mentioned in the text) was an exclusively male privilege. Linda McKinnish Bridges [b. 1953] observes, “Maybe her five husbands found her lacking, unsuitable, unlovely, unfit for their desires, and they simply rid themselves of responsibility and relationship...What if this woman with no name needed redemption not from the excesses of sexual promiscuity but from a series of injustices from five husbands in a culture programmed for male domination?” (Gench, Back to the Well: Women’s Encounters with Jesus in the Gospels, 116)
Guilty or innocent, it is likely that the Samaritan woman would have been viewed negatively. Jerome H. Neyrey (b. 1940) introduces:
The cultural world of the Gospel highly valued female sexual exclusivity, the core of a female’s virtue and worth. Thus a female with five husbands and a current companion not her spouse mocks this criterion; hardly virtuous, she is instead a sinner, an adulteress, a shameless person. But as in other Gospels, Jesus befriended courtesans. Another stereotype transcended. (Neyrey, The Gospel of John (New Cambridge Bible Commentary), 95)
Jey J. Kanagaraj (b. 1948) concurs:
The word “now having” is deliberate to indicate that she was not living with a legally married person [John 4:18]. In conformity with the oriental view on morality, the Samaritans also must have considered frequent remarriages as dishonorable and illegitimate. (Kanagaraj, John (New Covenant Commentary Series), 42-43)
Jerome H. Neyrey (b. 1940) emphasizes:
She had five husbands already...She is no maiden, but a sexually seasoned woman. Her current male companion is not her husband and so has no responsibility to guard her shame or to defend her sexual exclusiveness, which is the only basis for her honor in the village. Although she might have been widowed five times (see Mark 12:20-23), her current non-marital relationship with a sixth male suggests either adultery or concubinage. In any case, she clearly lacks the exclusivity upon which her reputation and honor depend in a gender-divided world. Moreover, when the woman recounts her conversation with Jesus back in the village, she focuses on one point only, his remark about her sexual history: “Come and see a man who told me everything I have ever done” (John 4:29). The villagers were impressed with her testimony that “He told me everything I have ever done” (John 4:39), which can only refer to Jesus’ remarks in John 4:17-18 about the six men in her life. The author insists on keeping the lack of sexual exclusivity before his audience. (Neyrey, The Gospel of John in Cultural and Rhetorical Perspective, 156)
The woman certainly finds herself in a striking pattern for which many have condemned her, casting her as promiscuous. Paul L. Metzger (b. 1964) characterizes:
She bears an especially heavy burden, for as we find out, she has had five husbands and the man with whom she now lives is not her husband (John 4:16-18). The woman has an unquenchable thirst for love, but like Johnny Lee [b. 1946]’s country song “Looking for Love” says, she has looked for it in all the wrong places...A lot of men have made promises to her in exchange for something. No doubt she is a little jaded. (Metzger, The Gospel of John: When Love Comes to Town, 75)
Some have viewed the woman’s relationships as endemic of an overarching negative portrayal. Musa W. Dube (b. 1964) describes:
There is a sharp division between those who know, the colonizers, and those who know nothing, the colonized. Thus the Samaritan woman is characterized as an ignorant native (John 4:10) and in need of help (John 4:10). She is constructed as morally or religiously lacking something; that is, she has had five husbands, and the one she has now is not her own (John 4:17-18). Furthermore, she does not know what she worships (John 4:22). By way of contrast, Jesus, a superior traveler, is knowledgeable (John 4:10, 22); powerful (John 4:14, 25, 42); sees everything about her past (John 4:17-18, 29); knows and offers answers to her community (John 4:21-26); and teaches her and her people (John 4:21-23). The ignorance of the Samaritan woman is pathetic. Despite all these revelations (John 4:26), she remains ignorant to the end. That is, she is still uncertain and asks, ‘he cannot be the Messiah, can he?’ (John 4:29). As Gail R. O’Day [b. 1954]’s analysis correctly notes, the Samaritan woman’s inability to understand is well above that of the male disciples (John 4:27, 31-33). (Dube and Jeffrey L. Staley [b. 1951], “Reading for Decolonization (John 4:1-42), John and Postcolonialism: Travel, Space, and Power, 67)
It has been postulated that the woman’s Samaritan heritage trumps her marital history in regards to what would have been perceived as her greatest obstacle. Tod D. Swanson (b. 1955) deliberates:
What is the plight of this woman, who is identified only as a Samaritan whose identity is formed by the Jacob relics? Whatever her plight is, it is symbolized by her only salient characteristic: she has five husbands. However the author may have intended it, the Gospel’s Hellenistic audience would not have seen physical polyandry as the woman’s greatest problem. It is more likely that they would have identified the woman as the Samaritan psyche and her many husbands as the dispersed loves that separated her from the One—her spiritual bridegroom. (Musa W. Dube [b. 1964] and Jeffrey L. Staley [b. 1951], “To Prepare a Place: Johannine Christianity and the Collapse of Ethnic Territory”, John and Postcolonialism: Travel, Space, and Power, 24)
Her peers may have seen her as a lost cause. Daniel Rathnakara Sadananda (b. 1963) relays:
Teresa Okure [b. 1941] suggests that the woman’s five husbands should be taken literally, and adds that the Evangelist’s portrait of the woman five times married living with a man not her husband places her in the same category as other “hopeless cases” which serves as the material for Jesus’ signs in the Gospel, but here Jesus did not perform any sign. (Sadananda, The Johannine Exegesis Of God: An Exploration Into The Johannine Understanding Of God, 239-40)
In this vein, some interpreters have viewed Jesus as being corrective. Gerald L. Borchert (b. 1932) epitomizes:
Jesus confronted the woman with her life. When she tried to avoid the issue of a husband (John 4:17), just as she apparently sought to avoid coming for water along with the other women, Jesus spelled out clearly her ethical problem. After experimenting with five husbands...she no longer found the marriage ritual necessary (John 4:18). Jewish tradition permitted three husbands, but she obviously had long passed that more lenient rule. When she said that she had no husband at that time, she had in fact stumbled onto an important idea with Jesus—the idea of truth (alēthes, John 4:18). Jesus therefore noted this fact clearly. (Borchert, John 1-11 (New American Commentary), 205-06)
Not all commentators have evaluated the Samaritan woman negatively. Though it is hard to use the known data to present the woman in a wholly positive light, some apologists seemingly to treat any focus on her husbands as an affront to women.

The Samaritan woman could have had “legitimate” reasons for having had five husbands and her present living arrangement. Turid Karlsen Seim (b. 1945) remarks that “insufficient account” is given to the fact that, as it was the man who initiated the divorce proceedings, in the Samaritan’s era, divorce was almost entirely a male prerogative (Lars Hartman [b. 1930] and Birger Olsson [b. 1938], “Roles of Women in the Gospel of John”, Aspects on the Johannine Literature: Conference Papers, 68).

Frank A. Spina (b. 1943) considers:

Many interpreters over the years have seized on the woman’s having had multiple husbands and a current “living arrangement” as a clear signal of a sordid past and an unsavory present. But is that a fair analysis? First of all, the woman’s five spouses may have died, a circumstance reflected in Mark 12:18-23, where some Sadducees try to prove to Jesus that there is no resurrection. Second, if the woman has been divorced multiple times, it is highly unlikely that she would have triggered the procedures. Initiating divorce was for the most part a male prerogative. Third, a woman in the ancient Near East would have had little choice but to remarry after divorce or the death of her spouse, for she would be economically dependent on a husband. This is why so many Old Testament laws call for supporting the vulnerable — among whom are mainly orphans and widows. To be sure, the fact that this woman is currently with someone who is not actually her husband does not speak well of her. At the same time, one must ask whether this arrangement is as much a function of economic necessity as of sexual promiscuity. Granted, Jesus seems to go out of his way to bring her current situation to light; yet, at the same time, he refrains from anything more than a fairly mild and largely implicit criticism. We are thus left to wonder what Jesus had in mind when he introduced this topic. (Spina, The Faith of the Outsider: Exclusion and Inclusion in the Biblical Story, 150-51)
Perhaps what speaks most for the woman’s character is the response she receives from others in the story. Margaret M. Beirne evaluates:
The final word may be with her own people whose openness to faith on the basis of her witness to Jesus (John 4:39a) hardly indicates that treatment of her as a social or moral outcast. (Beirne, Women and Men in the Fourth Gospel: A Genuine Discipleship of Equals, 83)
Equally telling is Jesus’ response to the woman: He does not unleash a lesson in morality. Gail R. O’Day (b. 1954) perceives:
The history of the woman’s five husbands is presented quite disinterestedly, with no suggestion or coloring of moral outrage or judgment. How or why the woman has had five husbands and the quality of those marriages are not a concern of the Evangelist as he tells the story. More importantly, those questions are also unimportant to Jesus. One searches in vain for any words of judgment about the woman’s character uttered by Jesus...This exchange between Jesus and the Samaritan woman is not an attempt to bring the woman face-to-face with her sinfulness or to place in her posture of confession before Jesus. To see the text in this way is to miss the main function of the exchange. The conversation of John 4:16-19 is intended to show the reader something about Jesus, not primarily about the woman. (O’Day, The Word Disclosed: Preaching the Gospel of John, 47)
F. Scott Spencer (b. 1956) advises:
A kinder and simpler reading is preferred. Jesus makes no moral judgments about this woman, and neither should we...We don’t know, and Jesus couldn’t care less about the implication of the woman’s marital status (there is no “go and sin no more,” as with the adulterous woman in John 8:11), except possibly to justify his approaching her at the well (she’s single [technically] and he’s single—so there’s nothing improper about intimate conversation between them there). (Spencer, Dancing Girls, Loose Ladies, and Women of the Cloth: The Women in Jesus’ Life, 91)
In fact, not only does Jesus not scold the Samaritan woman, he instead compliments her honesty (John 4:17). Roger L. Fredrikson (b. 1920) observes:
One catches a note of sad regret in the woman’s terse reply, “I have no husband.” Jesus commends her for telling the truth. All of us need to be aware of the flashes of beauty and goodness we see in every sinner. And then he opens up her whole confused situation. She has lived with a passing parade of men, five of them technically husbands, and the latest a live-in affair. None of them are lasting, meaningful relationships. “She belongs to no man, but has been the property of five.” (Fredrikson, John (Mastering The New Testament), 99)
Commentators who jump at the chance to chastise the woman take sterner action than does Jesus. Gail R. O’Day (b. 1954) and Susan E. Hylen (b. 1968) correct:
John 4:16-19...[has] been consistently misinterpreted in the history of the church, resulting in the much-repeated presentation of the Samaritan woman as immoral, a sinner, and unworthy conversation partner for Jesus. Yet nothing in the tone of these verses conveys that Jesus judges the woman and her history. The tone of judgment belongs to centuries of commentators, not to Jesus. (O’Day and Hylen, John (Westminster Bible Companion), 53)
David R. Beck (b. 1955) bolsters:
The question of the woman’s sinfulness has received far greater attention from some readers than the narration of it seems to warrant. Nowhere in this scene is there any textual evidence of repentance, nor is Jesus portrayed requesting it of her. It is undeniable that by the standards of most cultures, five husbands is excessive, and living with a man not one’s husband is usually deemed unacceptable. Readers whose extratexts include knowledge of common cultural martial standards would find her spousal history notable. (Beck, The Discipleship Paradigm: Readers and Anonymous Characters in the Fourth Gospel, 73)
Bruce B. Barton (b. 1943) cautions:
He [Jesus] did not accuse or excuse; he simply described her life so that she could draw some clear conclusions about the mess in which she was living. The conclusions we reach without knowing the facts will usually err in one of two directions: We will accuse others and raise their defenses, or we will excuse others and enable their denial. We see in Jesus’ communication with this woman that faced with an accepting confrontation, people will often respond positively. When we speak to others about themselves, we must limit our words to what we know. (Barton, John (Life Application Bible Commentary), 83–84)
Regardless of what her love life indicates, the Samaritan woman is brazen throughout the text, repeatedly violating societal norms and crossing established social boundaries. Amy-Jill Levine (b. 1956) construes:
According to Jerome H. Neyrey [b. 1940], the woman is sexually shameless: she has had five husbands, she is currently cohabitating with a man not her husband (a situation indicating either adultery or concubinage), and she is conversing in public with a man outside her kinship group. Stranger still, when she recounts her conversation with Jesus to her fellow villagers, she focuses primarily on her sexual history (John 4:29), and, consistent with this violation of cultural norms, she makes her announcement not in private, but in male-defined public space. Nevertheless, in her encounter with Jesus, she transforms herself into an insider: she repeats Jesus’ original words ‘Give me to drink; with her own insistence, ‘Give me this water’ (John 4:7, 15). (Levine with Marianne Blickenstaff [b. 1959], Feminist Companion to John: Volume I, 7)
The Samaritan woman is unfazed by convention. Then again, the same could be said of Jesus. Betrothal scene or not, in this respect, Jesus has found a kindred soul.

Whether read figuratively or literally, accumulating five husbands is implausible. Though having multiple marriages is more common today, five marriages still turns heads. Therefore people have been gossiping about the Samaritan woman at Jacob’s well for centuries!

She lives outside of the boundaries. She may have been a notorious figure viewed as a femme fatale replete with the requisite checkered past; a woman who changed men as frequently as most change underwear. The woman could equally be perceived as a tragic figure passed around as an object by men and worthy of sympathy. None of her marriages lasted and she appears to have never experienced a formal, committed satisfying relationship.

Perception of the woman ranges from victim to cougar. For John’s part, the narrator is neutral: The woman’s five husbands are simply presented as a statement of fact. Her life situation is what it is. Perhaps, like all people, the woman is both good and bad. She is human. Given the lack of detail, the reader’s response to the Samaritan woman reveals more about the reader than it does of her.

What is the tone of this conversation between Jesus and the Samaritan woman (John 4:7-30)? Does Jesus’ inquiry comply to social norms; is it inappropriate? Is Jesus’ transition completely abrupt or do the two strands of the conversation connect (John 4:7-15, 4:16-27)? When the Samaritan woman informs Jesus that she has no husband, does she think that she is responding honestly or is she deliberately attempting to mislead (John 4:17)? Does the woman’s reluctance to discuss her past reflect guilt? What can be inferred with any certainty based solely upon the Samaritan woman’s marital history? Do the multiple marriages speak more of the woman or the men in her life? How important is a person’s sexual history to you when forming your opinion of them? If the Samaritan woman has already married five times, why not marry the sixth man who is not her husband (John 4:18); what’s one more? Would readers condemn the woman so readily if they knew her personally? How would the story be read differently if the Samaritan woman was a male? Who do you know of who has had 5+ spouses? How do you view these people? Is the Samaritan woman a sympathetic figure? If the reader justifies the woman, does it mitigate the impact of the text and Jesus’ acceptance; does it enhance her at Jesus’ expense? Who do you know who is most like this woman? Why is the Samaritan woman not scared away by Jesus’ broaching of such a sensitive topic? What does her willingness to stay say about her? When have you been involved in a conversation that abruptly shifted topics? How do you respond when someone asks you something personal that you would rather not discuss?

Jesus’ seemingly abrupt interjection is purposeful (John 4:16). He exposes the most unusual fact about the woman, which may or may not have been common knowledge. This personal interlude completely changes the dynamics of the philosophical discourse.

The fact that Jesus knew about the men in her life is more important than their exact number as he demonstrates supernatural foreknowledge. Jesus routinely exhibits this skill in John’s gospel.

Charles H. Talbert (b. 1934) pursues:

Just as in the case with Nathanael (John 1:47-48) so here; Jesus’ knowledge of what is in a person (cf. John 2:25, 6:15, 61, 64, 70, 13:27; cf. I Corinthians 12:8: word of knowledge; I Corinthians 14:24-25; Luke 7:39-47) is the basis for the person’s first recognition of who Jesus is. Since he has prophetic knowledge, so the woman reasons, let him resolve the thorny issue between Jews and Samaritans, the place where people ought to worship (John 4:20). (Talbert, Reading John: A Literary and Theological Commentary on the Fourth Gospel and Johannine Epistles, 120)
Jesus exposes the Samaritan woman’s sore, but not to rub salt in the wound. Colin G. Kruse (b. 1938) resolves:
Jesus’ intention in mentioning these things was not to create a sense of guilt, but to confront the pain in her relationships with men. This would accentuate her thirst for a meaningful relationship with God and make her receptive to the revelation he was offering her. (Kruse, John (Tyndale New Testament Commentaries), 132)
Robert Kysar (b. 1934) explicates:
The purpose of Jesus’ comments is not to embarrass or accuse the woman; her sin (if it is such and that is not entirely clear) is not the central feature of the conversation. The purpose rather is to open the discussion to a level of honesty so that it can become clear who the woman is and who Jesus is. It is not absolutely necessary that we interpret the woman’s situation as sinful, since we are not told of the occasions for her numerous remarriages...It is Jesus’ extraordinary knowledge of the woman’s life that is the important point in the passage. The woman’s marvel at Jesus’ knowledge reminds us of Nathanael (John 1:49), but she concludes that Jesus is a prophet (John 4:19). (Kysar, John (Augsburg Commentary on the New Testament), 65)
In unmasking the woman, Jesus presents a prophetic understanding of her life situation and in return she recognizes Jesus as a prophet (John 4:19). Craig L. Blomberg (b. 1955) connects:
He [Jesus] demonstrates the same kind of insight reflected in synoptic accounts of his ‘supernatural knowledge’ (cf. especially Mark 11:2-3, 14:12-15)...The woman replies that he must be a prophet (John 4:19). Luke 7:39 likewise demonstrates popular belief that prophets would have insight into a person’s character, again in the context of an encounter between Jesus and a disreputable woman. (Blomberg, The Historical Reliability of John’s Gospel: Issues & Commentary, 100)
The Samaritan woman is shocked into a new revelation. Colleen Conway (b. 1962) determines:
Whatever Jesus’ enigmatic statement regarding the woman’s five husbands and her current non-husband may mean, the effect of his statement on the woman is most significant. She perceives him to be a prophet and immediately engages him in theological conversation, first concerning proper worship [John 4:20-24] and then the coming of the Messiah [John 4:25-26]. (Amy-Jill Levine [b. 1956] with Marianne Blickenstaff [b. 1959], “Gender Matters in John”, A Feminist Companion to John: Volume II, 84-85)
Jesus tells the woman just enough to reveal his divine knowledge and in the process turns her life inside out. In exposing the woman, Jesus exposes himself. He unveils his divine capacity and reveals his true identity.

Gary M. Burge (b. 1952) evaluates:

The reputation that has dogged her incessantly now has surfaced again. But Jesus is not simply judging her. She rightly sees that this uncovers his abilities as a messenger from God and recoils, looking for a way to deflect the moral probings of this stranger. Despite what she says in John 4:19-20, she continues to “remain in the light,” for she continues to speak with Jesus and not walk away. (Burge, John (NIV Application Commentary), 145)
Thomas H. Olbricht (b. 1929) proclaims:
Jesus’ declaration to the woman at the well in Samaria, “For you have had five husbands, and the one you have now is not your husband” (John 4:18), was...a sign that Jesus was from God. This statement was as much a sign as those statements concerning the destruction of the temple, the healing of the royal official’s son (John 4:46-54), and the cure of the paralytic (John 5:1-9). (Dave Fleer [b. 1953] and Dave Bland [b. 1953], “The Word as Sign”, Preaching John’s Gospel: The World It Imagines, 84-85)
If the woman is overtly sinful, in this story, her sinfulness merely becomes a means to see Jesus. Jesus gives the woman what she has clearly been seeking: A meaningful relationship and a connection to God. This gives all of us sinners hope: Jesus will respond to us in the same gracious manner as he did the Samaritan woman.

Do you think it is a relief to the Samaritan woman that her “secret” has been revealed and yet the conversation continues; she no longer has to conceal her past or worry about when it might be exposed? What is more disconcerting to the woman, discussing her marriages or talking directly to the Messiah? What is the one subject you least want to talk about right now? Has anyone ever brought it up? What can pastors model from Jesus’ treatment of the Samaritan woman? Can the average Christian be as direct as Jesus? When have you been “exposed”? When have you revealed yourself? When has God been revealed to you?

“Do you not know that there comes a midnight hour when everyone has to throw off his mask? Do you believe that life will always let itself be mocked? Do you think you can slip away a little before midnight in order to avoid this? Or are you not terrified by it?” - Søren Kierkegaard (1833-1855), Either/Or, II.146