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John And The Synoptics--A Discussion Of Some Of The Differences Between Them

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John And The Synoptics--A Discussion Of Some Of The Differences Between Them

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Content This dissertation has been microfilmed exactly as received 6 8 — 1 0 ,2 3 5 KALLAS, J r ., Jam es Gus, 1928- JOHN AND THE SYNOPTICS— A DISCUSSION OF SOME OF THE DIFFERENCES BETWEEN THEM. U n iversity of Southern C alifornia, Ph.D ., 1968 R eligion U niversity M icrofilms, Inc., A nn Arbor, M ichigan JOHN AND THE SYNOPTICS— A DISCUSSION OF SOME OF THE DIFFERENCES BETWEEN THEM by James Gus Kallas j* A Dissertation Presented to the FACULTY OF THE GRADUATE SCHOOL UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA In Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY (Religion) January 1968 UNIVERSITY O F S O U T H E R N CALIFORNIA T H E G R A D U A T E S C H O O L U N IV E R S IT Y P A R K L O S A N G E L E S . C A L IF O R N IA 9 0 0 0 7 This dissertation, written by James „_Gus__lfeU.as under the direction of h .D iss er ta ti on Com mittee, and approved by all its members, has been presented to and accepted by the Graduate School, in partial fulfillment of requirements for the degree of D O C T O R O F P H I L O S O P H Y Dean Date January ( 1968 CONTENTS PART ONE. THE PROBLEM, AiiD THE DIRECTION OUR PROPOSED SOLUTION WILL TAKE A. The Problem Has Two Parts 1. There are vast differences between John and the Synoptics..................... 1 a. Harmonization has been attempted .... 11 b. Such attempts have failed............... 17 2. Despite these differences a literary tie between John and the Synoptics has been traditionally seen..................... 2*f a. This literary tie has recently been challenged......................... 28 b. The challenge has not succeeded......... 31 c. There remains evidence indicating a literary tie......................... b2 B. The Direction Our Proposed Solution Will Take 1. Both John and his audience knew the Synoptics, and that was the problem, for they were open to misunderstanding . . . 51 * a. John corrects the Synoptics by moving closer to history ............... 69 b. John also corrects the Synoptics by moving away from history............. 78 2. Some examples of how John alters the Synoptic history in order to clarify Synoptic theology......................... 93 References to Part One................................137 ii PART TWO. NECESSARY SECONDARY CONSIDERATIONS A. We are confronted by an author with a sovereign sense of superiority 1 • He is able to bring the Synoptics closer to history, but he also feels free to move away from their history .... 183 2. Attempts have been made to explain this sense of superiority as merely a literary characteristic of style ......... 187 3. This attempt fails to recognize that the author alters the Synoptics because he believes he knows better than they the meaning of Jesus' life .........191 B. Such a man must be an eye-witness disciple, John son of Zebedee 1. Traditional arguments against Johannine authorship have lost their validity. .... 197 2. The external evidence for Johannine authorship is inconclusive, but at least allows a belief in Johannine authorship .................................200 3. The internal evidence seems to demand a belief in Johannine authorship ...... 211 C. Though John wrote the Gospel, he did not write it all at one time 1 • Theories of partition, dislocation, and redaction seek to explain the ruptures and contradictions within the Gospel .... 22*f 2. Considerations of the author's style, and the fact that he wrote at different times, explain better these ruptures and contradictions than do such theories .... 232 References to Part Two. ................... 2b $ iii PART THREE. DETAILED EXAMINATION OF AND EXPLANATION OF SOME OF THE JOHANNINE-SYNOPTIC DIFFERENCES A. The church was confronted by a rival Baptist sect, which demanded a new evaluation of John the Baptist....................280 B. That confrontation, and the need to re-interpret the term "Christ,1 1 led to a new view of the length and location of Jesus' ministry................................ 305 C. The relation of Jesus to Judaism had to be defined ........................... 322 D. The relation of Jesus to non-Judaism also had to be defined. ........................ 3M+ E. The nature and necessity of the two sacraments demanded discussion....................371 F. The major problem facing the church was the delay of the Parousia, forcing a re construction of every major theological concept 1. John's view of eschatology per se is not radically different from the Synoptics.......................................396 2. But his view of the world is radically different from both the Synoptics and Gnosticism.................................... *+08 3. His view on man, on sin, and on suffer ing are also radically different............. >+25 *+. His understanding of the work of Jesus is also transformed............................ ^ 3 5. John's life among the Greeks, extended by the delay of the Parousia, led him to shift from Hebraic to Greek thought categories.................................... V 7I References to Part Three. • • • . . . . • • • • • • *+ 88 BIBLIOGRAPHY OF WORKS CITED.............................. 539 iv 1 PART ORB The Problem, and the Direction our Proposed Solution Will Take The gospel of John presents the scholar with a prob lem. The first half of that problem is that there are fun damental and far-reaching differences between this gospel and the first three. These differences are massive, af fecting not only specific details of the life and ministry of Jesus, but affecting the entire framework and general pattern of that ministry as well. If we had only the synoptic gospels, we would con clude that the ministry of Jesus was compressed into a year, probably into only a few months. There is a restless sense of urgency, time is limited, all of human history is hastening to a close. In this brief ministry, Caesarea Philippi is a focal point, all flowing to or from that critical scene. It is at Caesarea Philippi that the disciples finally discover who Jesus is. It is at Caesarea Philippi that Jesus discovers that He must die. The decision having been made to die, Jesus turns for the first 2 time to Jerusalem where Ha cleanses the temple. This act unleashes the enmity of the Jewish religious leaders and leads to His crucifixion.^ Compare that skeletal outline to what wa find in the gospel of John and the differences are staggering in scope. In John, the locale of the ministry is altered. The north, rather than being the exclusive site of Jesus* ministry, recedes in importance, and Jesus* visits to those areas are reduced to peripheral sidetrips. In this gospel, His ministry is concentrated in Jerusalem. And not only is the locale changed, but the length of the ministry as well. Gone is the frantic hurried pace of a compact and com pressed ministry. In John, the ministry of Jesus lasts at least two years, perhaps even four.^ Caesarea Philippi, the pivotal point of the synoptic story, disappears entirely. The cleansing of the temple is so radically transformed that beyond the minimal fact that both the synoptics and John relate the event, there is little else the two tellings have in common. In John, it is not the final act precipitating the crucifixion, but it is instead the first public act of the southern ministry, taking place several years before Jesus* death. In John, the result of the act is not hostility climaxing in crucifixion but a discussion of the personal authority of Jesus. In John, the final act which leads to the decision of the religious leaders to put Jesus to death is not the cleansing of the temple but the raising of Lazarus— an event not recorded in any of the earlier gospels. Thus the Lazarus story contradicts the synoptics in a double way. Firstly, it sets aside and replaces the cleansing of the temple as the event which crystalizes the final resistance of the enemy. Secondly, and equally far reaching, it re places Caesarea Philippi. In the synoptics, all flows to and from the scene at Caesarea. It is the moment at which Jesus can turn to the cross. In John, the raising of Lazarus plays that role. This miracle is the seventh and climactic sign preparing the way for the rightful under standing of the cross. Once Lazarus has been raised, the public ministry can close, Jesus can withdraw with His own, and move to His death. These differences are matched by many others. The date, day, and hour of Jesus1 death in John cannot be re conciled with the synoptic account. According to the latter, Jesus* last meal with His disciples is a Passover meal and He is crucified the next day, Nisan 15* In John, Jesus is crucified at the exact hour that the Passover lamb is being slain, dying thusly one day earlier, on the day of preparation for the Passover, Nisan lM-.1 * The call of the disciples in John is irreconcilable with the synoptic account. There are differences in the 1 + circumstances of their call, the order of their call, differences even in identity, and differences in their personality, for in this gospel there is no development nor growth. In Mark, before Caesarea Philippi, the disciples do not know the full identity of the man they follow, and it is only when the transfiguration scene has taken place that Peter is able at last to identify Jesus as the Christ. In John, not only has Caesarea Philippi disappeared, but the transfiguration scene also is absent, and absent as well are the witnesses of the transfiguration— James and John are never mentioned by name. Instead of a gradual process of growth, the Johannine disciples are, from the moment of their call, shown confessing Jesus as the Christ. Rather than the Messiahship of Jesus being a closely guarded secret as in Mark, something which the disciples are ordered not to discuss even when they do learn the truth of Jesus* Identity, this gospel shows Jesus publicly announcing His Messiahship even in a chance encounter with a stranger. The disciples, rather than being true individuals, Inquisitive, growing In stature and insight, appear instead as static stylized figures, foils for Jesus* monologues.^ In a similar way, the rich variety of individuals parading before us in^the synoptic gospels is gone. The publicans and sinners, the fallen woman, the rich young ruler, the variegated face of the many-sided Jewish social scene falls away, and new and otherwise unknown characters, such as Nicodemus, appear before us.** If there is no development within those around Jesus, even moreso is this true of Jesus Himself. The cross is not a late development springing dramatically, at Caesarea Philippi, into the consciousness of Jesus, the disciples, and the reader. Instead, from the outset the reader knows from the words of John the Baptist that Jesus will die for the sins of the world, and Jesus Himself controls the un folding fact of the cross. Gone, therefore, are the dire predictions of impending martyrdom. The cross, rather than being a source of terror inspiring fear in the disciples and causing Jesus to shrink back asking for deliverance from that hour, is instead presented as the sought end and aim of the entire ministry. The temptation struggles of Jesus are gone, the agony of Gethsemane is gone, the story of Jesus being helped to His death by having someone else carry His cross is gone, the cry of dereliction from the cross is gone, and gone as well are the omens and portents surround ing the synoptic death scene. Indeed, perhaps one of the most significant of all synoptic-Johannine differences ia the nature of the death of Jesus. In the synoptics, the death of Jesus is a time of humiliation, the hour of the power of darkness, but in John it is the supreme hour of exaltation. In the moment of death, Jesus manifests a dignity and aloofness worthy of a god. He does not suffer. His cry of thirst is not the broken murmuring of great pain but is instead a fulfillment of Scripture. From the cross He calmly issues orders for the future care of His mother who stands at the foot of the cross with a beloved disciple. In the synoptics all the disciples have fled far from the cross. The cross is so important that all other events recede in relative value. In the synoptics, the cross Is a means to an end. The resurrection is the climactic moment. In John, the cross Itself is an end, and Jesus can say ' ‘It Is finished, 1 1 His work is done. The resurrection fades, losing all significance. And not only the resurrection, but the ascension, Pentecost, and the promised parousia all lose significance. The futurist Jewish apocalyptic eschatology, yearning for the impending end of all human history, Is gone, replaced by realized eschatology.? This indifference to pain and this freedom from anxiety, so characteristic of Jesus on»the cross, is not confined to the Jesus of the cross. All through this gospel Jesus towers over mere man, and the ordinary traits of the human personality are not to be found in Him. He is omniscient, knowing in advance all things, knowing not only that He will die, but even predicting beforehand the manner of His death. And He is omnipotent as well, for in the deepest sense He is not betrayed at all. Rather, he who betrays Him is denied all independent activity, becoming simply a tool in the hands of Jesus who predetermines all things.^ Fear and ignorance have disappeared from the Johannine Jesus, and so also have compassion and sub ordination, That is, nowhere in this gospel is He motivated to action by a sense of concern for others. The idea of Jesus being dependent upon the Father, subordinate in stature, is gone. Instead, Jesus and the Father are one. There is no true prayer on the lips of Jesus. Indeed, there is little on the lips of Jesus which reminds one of the synoptic Jesus. The parables are gone, and this in a double sense. The synoptic parables are characterized by both brevity and concreteness. The concrete imagery is gone, and the brevity disappears as well. In John, a single discourse can fun for several chapters.^ Not only the style and setting of the speech is different, but also the content. The one dominant strain of Jesus' synoptic teaching is the Kingdom of God. This motif is practically non-existent in the fourth gospel. Instead, the emphasis has passed from the preaching of Jesus to the preacher Jesus. He is the subject of His discourses. Further, there emerges an emphasis not found 8 in the synoptics— the stress upon the role of the Holy Spirit.10 Not only the nature and the content of the discourses have been altered, but their relative importance is also fundamentally different. The first gospel concentrates not on the words of Jesus but on the works of Jesus. It is the miracles of Jesus which dominate Kark* But not John. Their number has been reduced drastically down to the sym bolic number of seven, and absent from that limited number is that one form of miracle numerically predominant in the synoptics— the act of exorcism. Whether the miracle stories have been heightened or lessened is debated, but that their basic nature has been altered is beyond debate. They are no longer miracles but "signs," no longer events in themselves, but events which point beyond themselves. The significance of the act is no longer found in the physical act Itself, the multiplying, for example, of the physical loaves of bread; but rather the significance is found in the spiritual truth to which the act points— Jesus is the Bread of Life.11 The burial scene is different, and once more we notice the absence of all unseemly haste. Even as the ministry has been extended from a few brief months into several years, even as the restless note of expectation of a futurist eschatology has disappeared, so also a calm 9 leisurely scene prevails at the burial of Jesus, Rather than being hastily buried, Joseph and Nicodemus come bur dened down with an enormous quantity of orecious spices. The earlier anointing is also retold by John, but in such altered form that is nearly impossible to reconcile the Johannine account with the synoptic stories. The triumphal entry into Jerusalem is told with more contradictions and alterations than one would have thought possible to include in so brief a compass. A disciple is called "Satan" in this gospel as in the synoptics, but here it is Judas and not Peter. And Judas, here, receives no money for his act of betrayal, nor does he identify Jesus in the garden with a kiss. In the garden, at the time of the arrest, the sovereign authority of Jesus once more emerges, and He coolly takes command of the situation, majestically dis missing His disciples and overpowering the soldiers who come to seize Hira.^ In addition to the omissions already noted, there are countless other events familiar to the synoptic reader which remain untold in this gospel. The virgin birth scene, with all its attendant memories, such as the visit of the wise men, the slaughter of the innocents by Herod, the flight to Egypt, the scenes in the temple both on the eighth day and in the twelfth year of Jesus* life are gone. These perhaps present no problem, for they are missing not 10 only from John but from Mark as well. But far more difficult to account for is the absence of other critical synoptic events, such as the baptism of Jesus by John and the eucharistic discourses of the last meal. That latter event is replaced in John by the footwashing scene, an event unrelated in the earlier gospels. It is not too much to say that in every way con ceivable the fourth gospel has radically altered the story of Jesus, Nothing seems to have escaped alteration, either through omission or addition or transformation. Finally, and this is a point of great importance, these massive differences do not at all appear to be unpre meditated, the result of apparent ignorance of what had earlier been written. On the contrary, in many instances one has the feeling that the author has intentionally set himself up in opposition to the synoptic story. Two illustrations may be cited. One concerns the time of the opening of Jesus' ministry. Mark lslM- states that it was only when the Baptist was arrested that Jesus began to preach. John 3*2** equally clearly insists that Jesus' ministry began before John had been arrested. The other illustration also concerns John the Baptist. Mark 9*13 and Matt.17*13 taken together insist that Jesus identified John the Baptist as Elijah. The fourth gospel clearly rejects such an identification. 11 It could be argued that the case thus far presented Tor differences between John and the synoptics is not in reality a case but a caricature, and that what lies before us is not black versus white, but rather varying hues of grey. In short, the case for harmonization must be heard. And heard it has been since the days of Tatian who simply assumed, in his Diatessaron. that the four gospels were neither contradictory nor competitive, but rather com plementary, and were to be woven together. That view is with us still.1lf The demise of the verbal inspiration theory has further aided the case for harmonization for now minor differences in wording and setting can be set aside, and the scholar is free to concentrate on the major differences existing between John and the synoptics. Chief among these major differences are the interlocking issues of location and length of the ministry. Was it short or long, was it northern or southern? The problem of chronology poses the least difficult obstacle for the modern scholar who would harmonize. The Form Critical school has argued that the chronology is the creation of the evangelist himself, and not inherent in the inherited tradition. The tradition of Jesus existed as isolated and independent pericopes and it was the writer 12 who imposed upon that mass of material his own under standing of the sequence of events, supplying himself the time determinants. Once the time elements of the various gospels are rejected as artificial literary creations, the question of place falls easily into line. All that must be done is to discover hints within the synoptic stream of tradition which ipply or allow an extended southern ministry, and, conversely, point to verses in John which indicate the actual existence of a more extensive northern campaign than. John relates. This, it is claimed, is easily done. Luke 13:3^ (parallel Matt.23:37) has been constantly referred to as proving that Jesus had on more than one occasion preached in Jerusalems irocru.kcS krrLcr»r^».L r*- T e k vo l croc/ indicates a series of earlier unsuccessful evangelistic missions to the south. The same inter pretation can be placed upon Luke 19*^1. In like manner, Luke 19s30f and 22s8f, the commands of Jesus to the dis ciples to go and procure an ass and then prepare a place for the last supper, are comprehensible only on the assumption that He had earlier had an extended ministry in the south and had made disciples in the capital city willing to co-operate with Him in supplying His needs. Further, Luke ^/°Z<rcrui^ T 'is •Xoo£cLf*s f explicitly states the fact of a southern 13 ministry, and Acts 10:36-37 points to a similar tradition. On the Johannine side, John and 7!^» especially the latter, leave room for a far more extended northern ministry than John recounts, for here Jesus seems to be taunted by His unbelieving brethren for having confined His ministry to the obscurity of the northern province rather than making Himself known in the south. Thus it is claimed that John, rather than offering an irreconcilable alter native to the northern synoptic ministry, is instead pre senting supplementary material emphasizing an earlier known but undeveloped tradition of a southern campaign,^ When once the major frameworks of John and the synoptics have been shown to be compatible, attention can then be turned to harmonizing events within those frame works. The supposed conflict between Mark I t l b and John 3:2*+ is resolved through a similar argument. It is held that the parable of the children playing in the market (Matt.ll:l6-19=I*uke 7:31:35) indicates a tradition known to but suppressed by the synoptics evidencing that the ministries of Jesus and the Baptist did in fact overlap. As to the call and the character of the disciples, the argument vhlibh claims that the two accounts are irreconcilable— the one indicating a slow process of maturation within the disciples, the other showing them confessing Jesus as the Christ from the commencement of 1»f the ministry— has likewise been challenged. John l6:29f is but one verse singled out as indicating a movement from consternation and confusion to comprehension of the person of Jesus on the part of the disciples. A phrase such as John 12:16, ooj< i f Ww crc*#' c i.U'fou 0*0 jui.e>l0+jTcti- TO rrpZiToif, is taken as indicating the same truth. Further, John 10:2*+, ^ ° £ivov 'nf*-7v n tx p p nn <rf a.j can be claimed as proving that Jesus did not in fact openly declare His Messiahship, and John's earlier suggestion 1 7 that He did is but an artificial theological creation. ' One of the major differences between John and the synoptics is the form of speech of Jesus. This difference too has received minute attention, seeking to bring the two accounts more closely into line. On the one hand, it is argued that while it is true that Jesus' characteristic mode of synoptic speech is a short compressed statement, this is not the only synoptic form of utterance, and alongside the pithy compact synoptic saying there is evidence of extended speech. On the other hand, evidence has been accumulated to show that the Johannine Christ also knows how to speak in a brief axiomatic style. Further, if the two styles of speaking are not mutually exclusive, neither are the themes. In. effect, what is claimed is that the basic subject matter is the same even though there is evidence of some stylistic adaptation, the Johannine discourses being 15 but Midrashic exposition of familiar synoptic truths. This 1R leads directly into a discussion of the person of Jesus. 10 Is it true that the Christ of the synoptic gospels is subordinated to the Father, making no claims to divinity but instead putting Himself on a lower plane than God, denying omnipotence and omniscience, whereas the Johannine Christ is docetic, claiming metaphysical unity with the Father? The orima facie evidence would at first glance seem to support such a contrast, for it is the synoptic account which has Jesus pointing away from Himself to the "Kingdom .of Gody 1 1 insisting that He has no power of His own (Matt.12*28), confessing ignorance and a lack of know ledge of the details of God's unfolding plan (Mark 13*32). It is the synoptic account which shows Jesus rejecting even a passing remark which might indicate a status above ordinary man (Mark 10:18, tl /*.£ ov f u s ttfcLQos ec /j* e/j 6 B eSs ). in Contrast, in John there are repeated affirmations of Jesus' foreknowledge of all things (John 18**+ si si); there is the unqualified in sistence of freedom from the human characteristic of sin fulness (John 8*^+ 6, rfs e \ u/+-<Zr eXe/xec ne.pl k p . up Ti < * s j ) ; and there are constantly repeated Insistences that Jesus and the Father are one (John 1^*9 si most especially John 10*30, o ndT-^p i'v ) y a claim which convinced the Jews that He was blaspheming 16 and worthy of death {Verov &*.o t o v rroctSv r<^ John 5*18). These striking differences can, however, be reduced. In John as in the synoptics there are repeated disclaimers equivalent in content if not in form to Matt.12:28, in which Jesus insists He can do nothing of His own power (John £:19,30 <at aL). On the synoptic side, Matt. 11:27 alone is sufficient to make us aware that the identifi cation of Je3us and the Father is not a Johannine creation but rather an element of synoptic tradition. Further, while there is a difference in form there is none in essential content between the great "I am'* discourses of John and the repeated refrain of Matthew's sermon on the mount, "You have heard that it was said of old . . . but I say unto you." Here, Jesus is putting His own word equal to and above the authoritative word of Hod revealed through Moses. It Is a claim to divinity. In like manner, Mark 2:5f* Jesus' claim to be able to forgive sins, Is understood, exactly as in the John 5*18 context, as a claim to divinity* and is so understood by the people present, as Mark 2:7 indicates. If the gap can be closed from the synoptic side, showing that that stream of tradition is indeed cognizant of Jesus as a supernatural figure, so also it can be closed from the Johannine side, showing that Jesus is not omnipotent, predetermining all 17 things. Rather, John 10*30-39 shows Jesus forced to react to hostility, obliged to rearrange His plans, waiting for the atmosphere to clear, furnishing Him a more suitable time to execute His desires. Even as the gap between the Johannine and synoptic words of Jesus has been claimed as reduced, so also many competent scholars have argued that in like manner the Johannine-synoptic gap in respect to the works of Jesus can be closed. It is claimed that there is no difference in principle existing between the Johannine and the synoptic miracle stories.^ There have also been attempts made to reconcile the apparently contradictory accounts of the date of the crucifixion, which is linked to the question of the nature of the final meal. The attempts to harmonize, like the poor, are always with us. Their name is legion, for they are many. While one is willing to concede that the distance between John and the synoptics can be quantitatively re duced, one must insist that it is only that--a qualitative reduction— and that there remains a qualitative irreducible difference setting the two accounts irreconcilably against one another. As to the length of the ministry, it is not enough 18 to state that the chronology is the artificial creation, of the individual evangelists. That simply tells us where the difference originates. It does not deny the existence of a difference. Further, the problem of time is not limited to the number of years the ministry lasted. That is but a smaller part of the larger whole. That larger fact is that the entire attitude towards time in the two accounts is irreconcilable. The hasty ministry depicted in the synoptic account, stretching out for only a few months, is but a reflection of its eschatological orientation. All of human history is hastening to its close, time is short, the world clock is tolling its final hour. The three Passovers of John, on the other hand, are but a reflection of its time lessness, its serenity undisturbed by the conviction of a cataclysmic catastrophe soon to arrive. In their attitudes towards time in general, the two strains are mutually exclusive, and not even the sturdiest of Form Critical proponents would deny that fact. On the contrary, they affirm it. 21 In like manner, the disagreement as to the scene of Jesus* ministry remains unharmonized, despite all efforts expended. Even if the interpretation put on such verses as Luke 13* 3*+, Matt.23*37* Luke 19*^1 &L*was able to bear the weight assigned to it (in itself doubtful) the problem would yet remain, for then we would be forced to 19 ask why the synoptic writers had deliberately suppressed a tradition of a southern ministry, allowing us to get a glimpse of it only when they were temporarily off guard. In other words, once more we would be dealing not with the question of whether there are differences but wh.vT for the two accounts as they stand are irreconcilable. Further, to insert a southern ministry into the Marcan record is not simply to fill its gaps and omissions, but rather to con tradict its very structure. Mark's basic understanding of the ministry of Jesus renders a southern campain totally impossible. It Is the univocal conviction of all three synoptic gospels that Jesus went to Jerusalem only once as an adult, and that was to die, not to preach. One can very well claim that such a view was the mistaken creation of the first evangelist and not traceable back to Jesus Him self, and that John at this point reflects a better-attested tradition. Such a claim (in itself debatable), however, Is entirely irrelevant to the point under discussion, for such a claim would tell us only why there is a difference, and op is not a denial that there l a . a radical difference. Most of the arguments for harmonization are open to the same criticism. For example, we noted the claim that the synoptics as well as John seem to evidence knowledge of an overlapping ministry of Jesus and of John, Even if the claim were true (and such is in no way certain), the prob- lem would not be solved but transferred to another level. For then we would be obliged to ask why the synoptic writers had consciously (but not consistently enough) suppressed such knowledge, for the end fact is that John 3*2** and Mark 1:1*+ are irreconcilable opposites. The question of which account is closest to fact is quite an other issue. The same general kind of remark can be made for other events early on in the ministry of Jesuf, such as the call of the disciples. To argue that Peter looms large in the synoptic accounts simply because it is the tradition of Peter which has most strongly affected Mark the earliest evangelist, whereas the Johannine stream is free of this overriding influence and thus able to put Peter into proper perspective is, in effect, not a denial of differences but an attempt to explain them. The fact is that the call of the disciples and the roles they play simply do not yield to harmonization. John and the synoptics are mutually ex clusive. 23 As to the discourses, there are points of contact in content and perhaps even in form existing between John and the synoptics. But this in no way lessens the incontro vertible fact that it is precisely when the two traditions seem to be in closest contact that the greatest differences emerge. The subject matter may in places be common, but olf always the conclusions drawn are fundamentally other. This leads directly into a discussion of the person of Jesus, and the Messianic secret. To point to John 10:2^ as evidence that Jesus did not publicly proclaim His Messiahship is not to harmonize John with the synoptics but rather to misunderstand the verse and set one part of John against another part, for the preceding chapters are filled with explicit Christological statements publicly formulated. To argue that John 10*2^ reflects a survival of primitive tradition of the same type as meets us in the synoptics intensifies the problem and forces us to ask not whether there are differences between John and the earlier writers but rather why John suppressed (unsuccessfully) and contradicted the Messianic secrecy motif which, from the days of Schweitzer, has been recognized as being one of the formative principles of the entire Marcan narrative. In like mannery to argue that John too knows of the true humanity of Jesus, and, like the synoptics, sub ordinates Jesus to the Father, is to argue against the facts. It is precisely at those points where Jesus* humanity seems most to the fore that John ends up most fully repudiating that humanity* It is true that Jesus pauses at the well, wearied and asking for water, but it Is equally true that in the immediately succeeding verses He manifests omniscience, and disclaims all need for human sustenance (John ^:6-7, and ^fsiy-lS, and *f: 31-3*f). In the 22 Lazarus narrative, it is true that He weeps, but the reason for this weeping has never been agreed upon by* the commentators• It is certainly not out of a sense of human compassion that His tears flow for the text explicitly states that He deliberately tarried that Lazarus might die. Further, it is quite clear even to the most casual reader of the gospel that John's repeated•insistence that Jesus can do nothing of Himself is not an attempt to subordinate Jesus to the Father, but is instead an affirmation of His metaphysical unity with the Father, to be understood in the light of passages such as John 10*30.^ As to the miracle stories, the claim that there is no fundamental difference between John and his predecessors is indefensible and must be unqualifiedly rejected. Granted it is that there are echoes and points of contact within both streams of tradition. In both, Jesus raises someone from the dead, and In both Jesus furnishes bread for the multitudes. But it is precisely where these likenesses are great that the differences are greater. The purpose and point of application are fundamentally different. In the synoptics, the bread itself Is the thing important, as Jesus conquers hunger, whereas in John the loaves take on a mystical or symbolic importance, pointing beyond themselves to Jesus as the dispenser of eternal sustenance. To point to a passage such as John 20*30, /*-*V AVc 23 j r £ ^ J V o t A J [ a L s i r o / i f a - E i f o 0-0^5 . . . * < - 0 0 / f e p - r w Xe{(>*^}jlZv*. d v ~ r < f> 0tpAf<f t o u t u , , and conclude from it that John has confessed to omissions, justifying the further conclusion that perhaps the synoptics too have omitted many miracles, thus making room for the historicity of the Lazarus story, is not to harmonize the two accounts but to intensify the differences. The simple fact is that the Lazarus story is not just one more miracle that can be inserted into the synoptic narrative. On the contrary,, the Lazarus miracle challenges the entire structure of the Marcan narrative, for there cannot be two final inciting incidents. Either it was the raising of Lazarus which touched off the final resistance of the Jews, and the synoptics are wrong when they insist that such was the role of the cleansing of the temple, or else the synoptics are correct and John is not. There is no middle ground, no other alternative. The two accounts are absolutely irrecon cilable. In the same way, the day and the date of the death of Jesus refuse all attempts at harmonization. A man cannot die twice (unless he be Lazarus), and either the Johannima dating of Nisan 1*+ or the synoptic dating of Nisan 15 must be accepted. This, of course, is to say nothing of the other difference already noted, namely, that it is not only the day and the date which are different, but the nature of the death as well.^6 2b We conclude, then, with the statement with which we opened: there are massive irreducible differences between John and the synoptics, affecting not only specific details but affecting the entire framework of the ministry. This is the first half of the problem facing the Johannine scholar. The second half of the problem facing the Johannine scholar is the fact that, despite these many differences, it has been the view of traditional scholarship, since the days of Clement, that John knew the works of his literary predecessors. The differences of course were noted and this indeed was one of the serlons obstacles to the acceptance of John as a canonical book, it being feared that such a book with so many differences would set the gospels at variance one with another, thus bringing the canon into self-contradiction and disrepute.2? Nonetheless, this traditional view has remained unchallenged almost down to our day. If anything, the ancient view of Clement, rather than fading,,has flowered, and new elements were added to it, for it became customary to say something which Clement had never said, namely, that John not only knew the synoptics but was dependent upon pQ them, they serving as his sources. ° This of course raised the problem of the differences. 2? Why did John reject so much of what he borrowed, omitting so many fundamental events in Jesus' life? And why, in what he did borrow, did he introduce so many variations? The theory which took command of the Tield was that John was written as a supplement to the synoptics. Supplement, here, can be understood in at least two senses: (1) a "spiritual" supplement; that is, an attempt to draw out the sense of what was already given— in effect, a comment ary or Midrash. Or (2) a "physical" supplement; that is, an attempt to add new material unknown to the earlier writers. It would seem that the first definition would have had more in its favor, for, in the first place, Clement had actually used the word 7 7V£iyc<* rt*oV. In the second place, such a view would not only handily explainzfche many omissions (it could be argued that John, knowing what had earlier bean written, would find it unnecessary to repeat all that was earlier recorded) but would also explain the alterations as well (it could be argued that John only took Up and examined those points open to misunderstanding, and, to lessen such a possibility, he altered the manner of telling in order that the sense could stand out more clearly). Nonetheless, it was in the second sense of supplement that the gospel came to be seen. It came to be an axiom of scholarship to argue that John was to be under- stood in the sense of the later Infancy Gospels--attempts to fill in the gaps in the synoptic narratives, fleshing out the biographical portrait of the life of Jesus by drawing on earlier untapped reservoirs of tradition. This point of view is clearly reflected in the attempts at harmonization we have already examined. To cite but one illustration, a careful examination of the quotations of the scholars al ready given in respect to the scene of Jesus* ministry, was it northern .or southern, reveals the conviction that John's gospel puts before us new material which is to be integrated into the synoptic narrative. Rather than assuming that John's depiction is but an altered form of what we find in Mark, it has been assumed that John presents us with en tirely new material. Indeed, this point of view, rather than waning in our day, has actually gathered momentus, and the rising appreciation of the historicity of John has served to strengthen the prevailing conviction that we have in John not simply the synoptic data retold in altered form but rather we have an entirely independent stream of trad ition putting before us new facts unknown to or at least unnoted by the synoptics.^ This view was examined in the monumental work of H.Windisch, ibinute in detail and massive in scope, Johannes und die Svnoptiker. Windisch lays out several alternatives. John may be seen as supplementary to, independent of, or 27 interpretive of the synoptics. He rejects all these in favor of a fourth view— John was intended to replace the earlier gospels. He argues that there are no gaps in John into which the synoptic material can ba inserted. John as it stands is autonomous and self-sufficient and no passage with synoptic parallels in John requires a comparison with the synoptic story to explain or complete it. He further argues— and this is a telling point— that if indeed John is a "physical1 1 supplement to the synoptics, it failed miser ably, for there is practically no new material in John. Rather, what we find is not new material but the same synoptic material in altered form. For example, the story of Lazarus is not new, for the synoptics too know of a man being raised from the dead. What we have, then, here and elsewhere, is not a new stream of tradition, but rather the already known facts put into a new setting, a setting which contradicts and denies. This is the general tenor of Windisch's work— John is able to stand on its own feet. It is not to be read as an addendum to other works, but as their replacement. It is from this avenue of approach that he approaches the many omissions in John of synoptic material. The material is not omitted because it is known and could be read elsewhere,, but rather because it contra dicts leading ideas in John.3° However, it must be clearly noted, Windisch did not 28 deny that John knew the synoptics* On the contrary, basic to his thesis was the traditional view that John indeed did know them and had drawn upon them* His thesis was that John knew the synoptics, but was dissatisfied with them, and thus sought to replace them. The view that John knew the synoptics and was depend ent upon them continued therefore to hold sway— until the work of Percy Gardner-Smlth appeared. Gardner-Smith's work, St. John and the Synoptic Gos pels . was the first sustained argument for John's independ ence of the synoptic writings. The influence of this book has been profound, affecting not only scholars of his own country, but continental theologians as well. The measure of his effectiveness is perhaps best seen in that he has persuaded C. H. Dodd to accept this view of his and ad vance it in an independent work.3^ The salient points of Gardner-Smith*s thesis are as follows. His point of departure is to call attention to the fact that prior scholarship had always done two things: it had, on the one hand, stressed the similarities existing between John and the synoptics, and, on the other hand, had either minimized or totally ignored the more numerous and significant differences which exist between them. The view of Gardner-Smith is that if these fundamental differences 29 were fully faced it would be difficult, if not impossible, to continue to argue for John*s dependence upon the syni- optics. His approach is the exact opposite of that which he noted and criticized. He too notes the similarities, but, rather than emphasizing them, he minimizes them. Con versely, he emphasizes the differences, repeatedly insist ing that they are of a nature and scope which makes it im possible to posit literary dependence, for if John did know the synoptics and yet introduced so many variations into his own writing, all that can be assumed is that he held the synoptics in something approaching utter con tempt. Far more likely is it that he did not know the synoptics, but rather drew his material from another source. 33 That source is, according to Gardner-Smith, a common oral tradition shared with the synoptic writers. Rather than John depending upon them, being one step removed from the original stream of tradition, the two— John and the synoptics— both go back to a common source. It is this fact which is sufficient to account for their verbal similarities and other points of cnntact such as the same order of events.^ His own conclusion, then, is that there is no evidence of John*s knowledge of or dependence upon the 30 synoptic writers. The similarities can be accounted for by assuming a shared oral tradition, and this assumption is verified by the many differences— they make sense only when we conclude that John did not have the written synoptic accounts before him. The basic argument of Dr. Dodd in Historical Tradi tion in the Fourth Gospel is but a variant of that of Gardner-Smith. Dodd spends much less time in trying to min imize the similarities, but in compensation he spends more, time in stressing the many differences which exist among the synoptics themselves. Repeatedly, he calls attention to the fact that there are almost as many differences be tween the synoptics themselves as there are between them and John. His point is that these differences are due to the fact that the synoptic writers had available to them independent streams of tradition which eventually formed what we call M and L, those portions unique to Matthew and Luke respectively. This line of arguraentation Dodd then applies to John. The differences between John and the synoptics is but a magnified form of the differences among the synoptics, and all of these differences can be accoun ted for on the hypothesis of independent traditions. There is, then, evidence that John stands in a position of in dependence over against the synoptics in much of his material. Even as, for example, Luke did not get all of 31 his material but had unique material of his own, so also John had much unique material of his own. Having noted the independence of much of John's material, it is but a half step for Dodd to proceed to argue for the independence of al1 of John's material. As with Gardner-Smith, the like nesses are attributed to common usage of oral tradition rather than to literary dependence.3? The end conclusions of both of these scholars, then, are the same. There are points of similarity between John and the synoptics, but these are to be seen not as indi cating literary dependence of John upon the synoptics but rather more easily to be accounted for on the basis of a shared oral tradition. The differences, however, are what receive major attention, and these differences are best accounted for not by assuming that John recklessly and at times pointlessly altered that which he found in the syn optics but rather by concluding that John had available to him an entirely distinct strain of tradition unknown to the synoptic writers.36 Two conclusions seem to grow out of the arguments examined. Firstly, it seems clear beyond reasonable doubt that John was not dependent upon the synoptics, at least not in the sense that they were the exclusive sources of his knowledge of the life of Jesus. The constant calling of attention to the departures from synoptic tradition must be given their full weight. There are far too many such differences between John and the synoptics to justify the view that John was limited to the material found in them. In this respect, scholarship is permanently in the debt of Sardner-Smith. It is true, as he constantly stresses, that earlier scholarship was guilty of myopic vision, concen trating on only one facet of the Johannine-synoptic prob lem, namely, the likenesses, ignoring the differences. John does have some other source of information. Whether that source is more or less valuable than the synoptics is a question to be treated later, but for the moment it can be stated with reasonable certainty that there is some other source. Otherwise, the multiple differences simply defy rational explanation. Why would a writer deliberately and fundamentally alter his only source of information, intro ducing such radical changes that the only possible end result would be a total discrediting not only of his own account but also of the materials upon which he was de pendent? The only answer is that he was convinced that his own telling was more reliable, closer to the essential truth. And this demands that we presuppose the existence of some other source of information. The differences demand that we deny the axiom of Johannine dependence. The second conclusion, ;however, is that it must be insisted that the argument that John did not know the syn optics falls short. It is based upon the assumption— mistaken— that knowledge of equals dependence upon. This was not part of the earliest tradition. We have already noted that later scholarship went beyond the view of Clement. He simply stated that John knew the synoptics. Ha did not insist that John's knowledge was limited to what he found therein. A false alternative has thus been intro duced. Once the idea of knowledge of the synoptics was equated with the idea of dependence upon the synoptics, a solution of the problem became impossible. Only two routes were open: either to ignore the differences and stress the likenesses and argue for knowledge of and dependence upon the synoptics, or, conversely, to stress the differences and ignore the likenesses and argue for the independence from and ignorance of the synoptics. Earlier scholarship chose the former, and Gardner-Smith and Dodd have argued for the latter. But in both cases the arguments are marked by a onesidedness which fails to do justice to the full problem. If earlier scholarship was guilty of ignoring half of the evidence, minimizing the differences, it is also true that Gardner-Smith and Dodd have pushed the pendulum too far in the other direction and have suppressed and minimized the likenesses. This is especially true of 3^ Gardner-Smith. His setting aside of marked points of contact with the synoptic accounts is cavalier, and often the arguments he presents are limited to unscholarly sar casm, or are misleading, or are even flatly untrue. Both Sardner-Smith and Dodd note that there are two alternatives which can be put forth for explaining the differences between John and the synoptics. One is that John is ignorant of those accounts. The other is that John knew but deliberately altered those accounts. But, they argue, the differences are often of such a ' ’ pointless'* or "trivial1 * nature that the more plausible explanation is that of ignorance. It would be "unthinkable" they claim that minor variations would be introduced where no motive for doing so can be determined. The opposite of that must also be affirmed, namely, that if we can determine motives which would lead John to alter the synoptic accounts, then the variants can no longer be dismissed as "pointless" or "trivial" but must be seen as purposeful. The main body of this paper will seek to show that there were strong and cogent reasons not only permitting John to alter what he found, but demanding that he do so. This argument, the full evidence for which will be presented in the course of our development, is the only argument which does full justice to all facets of the problem, for it deals seriously with both likenesses and differences. It presupposes that John did 35 know the synoptics but was not dependent upon them. He is able deliberately to echo them, accounting for the like nesses, and yet he is obliged to alter them or correct them, which accounts for the differences as well. Before proceeding with a fuller delineation of this line of thought, it is necessary to call attention to some of the serious flaws in the arguments of Gardner-Smith and Dodd. In the first place, it is beyond the realm of credence that oral tradition alone is sufficient to account for many of the striking and unusual verbal identities existing between John and the synoptics. Oral tradition could indeed preserve the general thought of an event, and, indeed, could even preserve certain key phrases significant enough to burn themselves, unaltered, into Christian memory. Such a phrase would be Jesus* words, €£-< *> 0 o fl £c ore £ b These words are the climax of the event, Jesus walking on the water, and it is entirely plausible that the climax of such an event would survive unaltered in all forms of oral tradition. But that insignificant, trivial, merely supportive extraneous detail should like wise be preserved in absolutely identical language in in dependent streams of oral tradition is an argument lacking in verisimilitude. For example, that it should be the right ear of an enemy which is lopped off is not the kind of detail to be preserved in the popular memory,. The mathematical odds are not simply one out of two, right ear versus left ear, but rather the very fact than an ear— either ear— should be referred to, instead of a more general reference to a blow being struck, indicates in it self that more lies behind this repitition than a shared oral tradition. And this seems verified in the fact that when an ear jji mentioned, the accounts should agree that it is a right ear. Or, that the precise money value of the bread should agree exactly in John with the synoptics when the feeding of the five thousand is recounted is again evidence that we have oral tradition as an insufficient source. This is not the kind of detail— precise— which is preserved in floating stories. Further, that there was grass in the place is certainly not the kind of detailed information likely to survive in oral tradition. Why should such an irrelevant and extraneous fact burn itself indelibly into the Christian memory? Oral tradition is an inadequate answer. Far more likely is it that John deliberately and purposefully echoes the synoptic account in order to call it to the mind of his audience, and then goes on to deliberately correct what is being told. Or, another example, that a rare, and perhaps even crude term, should survive in oral tradition alone cannot easily be believed. Matthew seems to have deliberately rejected the term, replacing it with another, and it would 37 seem that that would have been the o r d i n a r y fate of the term— unless John deliberately used it in order to recall and then comment on the Marcan narrative. The same kind of comment can be made many times over. That there should be a whole series of unusual words describing the aromatic spices used to anoint Jesus appearing in both John and the synoptics does not seem adequately explained by the hypo thesis of a shared oral tradition. Rare words, when deal ing with insignificant secondary material, would fade out. Certainly the differences in these accounts, and they are many, are to be given their due— but not at the expense of striking verbal similarities inadequately explained once some aort of literary connection is denied In the second place, if striking verbal identities cannot be attributed to oral tradition alone, even less can oral tradition alone be argued for as the source of identical sequences of events. It is true that oral tradition would of necessity impose a certain general order upon floating pericopes, and certain general blocks of material would inevitably assume a common order. For example, obviously, events concentrated upon the opening of the ministry would precede accounts of Jesus' preaching, even as His preaching would precede the telling of the passion. But beyond this rudimentary imposition of sequences, oral tradition would be powerless to preserve 38 sequences in a consistent manner. Indeed, the primary assumption of the Form Critical school is that the oral tradition preserved pericopes in isolated fragments, there being no given order beyond the general one noted, and that the narrative framework rather than being received was the artificial creation of the individual evangelist. At this point, Gardner-Smith is guilty of trying to have it both ways. On the one hand, he argues that the general sequence of events in John can be the same as that in the synoptics because the sequence was already frozen by oral tradition; and yet he can turn right around and argue that, for exam ple, the cleansing of the temple can appear in a different place in John than in the synoptic gospels precisely be cause these events were not frozen by oral tradition, this being Instead a "floating" tradition not yet, when John wrote, anchored down to any specific point in the ministry of Jesus.89 This leads to a third criticism of the arguments of Gardner-Smith and Dodd, namely, they find themselves ob ligated to push too far forward the date of the writing of John. In order to bulwark their claim that John wrote in ignorance of the synoptics and before oral tradition had had an opportunity to freeze the sequence of events, they must argue that John was perhaps written even before the synoptics had been penned. This is flatly Indefensible*^ 39 Hecent discoveries, it is true, do establish the date of John at a point much earlier than the scholars of a pre ceding generation would have been willing to accept (this will be discussed in Part Two). Nonetheless, the lack of references definitely traceable back to the fourth gospel, before Irenaeus, must be given full weight, and the manu script evidence recently discovered is able to push the date of writing back to the earliest part of the second century or to the very end of the first century, no earlier. Thus, the least amount D f time possible, it would appear, between John and Mark is a quarter of a century, and to argue, under that circumstance, that John wrote in entire ignorance of Mark is to allow theory to triumph over fact. Other arguments which Gardner-Smith and Dodd ignore entirely include (1) a consideration of the way in which John uses what are definitely known to be sources, and (2) the manner in which he presupposes knowledge of the syn optic gospels on the part of his readers. Both of these points, like much of what has already been said, will be treated in detail later. For the moment, presuming upon evidence later to be given, we simply note that many of the omissions and alterations so characteristic of the fourth gospel make sense only against the assumption that the synoptic stories are known and known well. It is true that then the contradictions must be explained and a motive for bo them given, for their omission or alteration can no longer be ascribed to ignorance. But it appears that in many, if not most, cases, reasons can indeed be brought forth. Further, several studies have recently been undertaken (these will be discussed in Part Two) which call attention to the fact that even when we know that John is using sources, such as the Old Testament, he does not hesitate to introduce into his employment of those sources the same kind of alteration and adaptation so characteristic of his treatment of the synoptics. Though he is quoting the Old Testament, he often paraphrases and alters— sometimes to such an extent that the original meaning is reversed. If he can do this with the Old Testament, which he explicitly states he is employing, it is at least a live option that he can adapt, even as he adopts, the synoptic narrative. Dodd's argument (that there are as many differences within the synoptics themselves as there are between John and the synoptics) is an especially delicate issue, and its implications and limitations must be fully noted. When he calls attention to differences between Mark and Luke, he is on sure ground. There are many. But that Luke, therefore, because he differs from Mark, is to be charged with ignorance of Mark, is an impossible argument. Certainly Dodd does not mean to argue that I Such an argument would undo the "assured results" of a century of pondering the synoptic problem. All that is proven is that Luke knew more than what he found in Mark. He knew Mark, but had other sources of information as well. If the analogy Dodd is seeking to present has any validity at all, what is es tablished is not that John was ignorant of the synoptics, but rather that he knew them, but also knew more than what he received from them. He was aware of them, but not de pendent upon them, at least not exclusively. Perhaps one of the most telling arguments against the combined theories of Jardner-Smith and Dodd is their total refusal to take the cumulative weight of the evidence into consideration. There is an impressive, almost hypnotic, effect produced by their constantly reiterated phrase that in this or that specific pericope the likenesses are few and the differences many. They divide John into fifteen or even fifty segments and then note that in this segment there is "only one" point of verbal identity, and in that segment "only one" point of contact. The conclusion we are mesmerized into accepting is that "only one" means "practi cally none." The likenesses are minimized. In reality, what must be noted is that if there is only one likeness here, and only one likeness there, the result is two like nesses, and not "practically none." There Is a whole series of striking similarities the cumulative weight of which must be fully recognized.^ b2 What these men have led us to see is that John is not dependent upon the synoptic gospels. He knows them, but he knows more than what he reads in them. He is able to manifest a sovereign sense of superiority over against them, adapting and altering that which he reads. But these men claim too much when they argue that John did not know or had never read the synoptic gospels. The evidence is all on the other side. Much of the evidence indicating that John knew the synoptics has already been referred to in seeking to refute the theses of Gardner-Smith and Dodd. It seems wise, how ever, to cover the ground anew in a more cohesive, less polemical fashion. Let it be laid down immediately that what is argued for here is the traditional view, namely, that John knew and used Mark, Luke, and probably Matthew. Two qualifying remarks must be added, one of them already having been stated. Firstly, though John knew and drew upon the syn optics, he was not dependent upon them in the sense that they were the sole channel through which his knowledge of the life of Jesus came to him. What his other sources might have been has not yet been examined. All that can be said with certainty to this point is that the differences be tween John and the synoptics are sufficient in themselves * * ■ 3 to prove that there was some other source* This means that John*s employment of the synoptics was not of the nature of slavish reproduction. This means that the like nesses between John and the synoptics, verbal identities and identical sequences of events, when they do appear are no more accidental nor coincidental than are the differ ences. They are purposely Introduced, and one has the feeling that often John deliberately repeats or at least echoes a familiar synoptic refrain or sequence in order to recall the synoptic background to the mind of his reader, before he proceeds to give his own comments. In other words, giving full weight to both likenesses and differ ences, there is already before us the indication that John can only be seen rightly when it is seen as Midrash, or commentary upon the already known synoptic tradition. ^ Secondly, even though it is here claimed that John knew the synoptic gospels in written form much as we know them today, the argument to be later presented does not stand or fall with the accuracy or falsity of that claim. Much the same conclusions could be arrived at by simply claiming that John knew the oral traditions which even tually crystallized into the synoptics. Indeed, in one sense, those who claim that John knew not the synoptics but the traditions behind them are simply begging the basic questions, for what must still be accounted for is why John l+lf departed, so often and so greatly, from the received tradition of the church. In other words, the problem is identical, and the differences must be accounted for, whether those differences are to be seen against either an oral or a written background. But the evidence does seem to support the traditional view, that it was the written synoptics which were before John. The first bit of evidence is the identical language so often employed. Lists of verbal correspondences with Mark can be found in almost every significant commentary, and it does not seem necessary here to reproduce all the parallels. limit ourselves to representative examples: John Mark 6:^ a L v T o S K c* l C X ^ ^ S V < k v T o t j £p,t^pTupr^ ore O otc oo/f ir p Q ^ y ^ T r (S £vr T £ < r t i r irp o j r f nj S K tij*Os L&Ic A . TT'KTp/fc TtfLifif £L T Tf'cKTfil Sc ; £ j ( £ c o£(S7~ot/ John 5*8 Mark 2:11 A ir tL k u rC i & * P ov £ p o \s T-or -rov K f k $ * T O \ S <xoo K<kt K p+ ficK T ov < to < j K d l o W f e d 5 o i x f r JTtpiTTdiTEL <roC' John 6:7,9*10,13 Mark 6:37,38,39,^3 S j « K o < r t « j \ s f n v A p i u i v k ) ( o p £ < r < j j ^ i v f ^ r + p t ^ v etproc Ou/C ctpKovtnv j — " V o (v j o i s . . . n e v n < *f> T ous KpiQtV'ous K *L L c fuo Otp d.p/oL , , . < f£ >*V tos rro\us., , 70 k j N . C a ip t & ^ o \ s < *> $ TTGVTfkKtG-jtL A toe ». . K'otd S jAlCTckV S u jS tk ^ Ko<frfvou $ KKc^trfATwis ) ^ / V _ _ e*<~ ro>^ rrsvri a p r^t/ John 6:19,20 0 f c*j p o o c r (\s J-OV /X^^rot«K TTEptWairouv’Tct e a l Tffs O o { \ ot O'er *1 S . . . £ j f t o J ^ ~ E c p u t' ( p o p t i r Q e , J+5 •f/ei /CO Orfui ir c(pToOS . . , rr6<Toos £/.£XE ckp T'O u 5j a , # rr£ y V £ j K<ti 606 J S' ^ > « ^ jC \u > p < Z }<.6p T u J . . .Kit ^pv/iV K\<*6~pA'<*.Tck SiuSzlCc*, K o f t v t J J l S Tt-XTj pc&JAdLTcL , « # oc . f f £ \ / T K i <r)(.L \ t oc Mark 6:^-9,50 J OLOTOK John 6:69 ^ < c/ <ro» £c o T o Z o i S~S l Soi/rg €zrZ -r-^s- Q * A A << era ^ 5 TT£ p t tT cK T ouvT d- . m m € ^ 00 E LpuC * p o f i E l v O C Mark 8:29 ^ J c , / cro E t o j c p t c r T o S 0 £ o u John 12:3,5,7,8 Mark 1^:3,5,6,7,8 js <ptdLpc Aupoo<rcL E ^outr<A o^^o(^o((r Tf>ov M-6 \lTp< Av ju.Uj0ou TT/O-Tf r s / d/<* > tto A/ r/yU oc/. #. TL T o u t a T o p u p o u o u /c k n p d L Q y f Tf>tc<K~oar('c~ts KflU S & o Q 't f T T T t o J C o / K d U . <fo&Tpr<*L To?s d itp £ S A o t ^ v j t v * € * s t r r o j j i o f s , . . r r £ \s t o t £ r^V f a e p d \s T o o jjL U pou v ^ p S o v f r / t r r / K ^ s rro A u t c \ oo$ . . . S u K'ot r® V ✓ - * * ^ / T o o t o TO J j i u p o o X J / T T v tkL E tl* V u J cf *1 V *pL O u if T /0/ot hCo<r I W IT £ \S T < ^ < f> l* < T p o b f A O U c( u t o . T o u s £ o { p T o u s 7 T T u > }(o u s £>C7~£ p . £ & J idL uTO J\/j c / ✓ , KdLt OTc*V 0 e \ ^ T £ TTTou j ( o u s n i v r o T E & o \/c L a r Q £ K o r o l s 7 r£ vr0 T S > > Jt — ■ y V V £ J ( £ T £ p . e & > t J L U T o u ^ S O TTOL y j c r d c J £j u l £ < f£ J / J / C k o u T T *V T oT £ EfiSTE. 0 / N \ j / <£/*£ d£ OU T[c< V T o T e t/ £ / Z T £ John 12:13 £<T^£IS £7rOL7[CTEV" ■rrpoe \ * p o V p n .o p i0- ckL T o <TCU JU <A JjuoO £ c s T O V i . s £VTck<pt*<rf. o v . Mark 11:9,1° C ajcTo I u i/i* S u X o ^ ijp itv O S (U x r d V is * . S u X o ^ y ^ E t / o s o £ p j ( o f * £ l / o s £ ( S O i f > ^ o j ^ £ \ s o s C V OVO/mckTL K u p f o u tC ctX 0\SQj**T<~ K t s p t ' o u * i f7 O pA&tXsus Too J X a rp ^7 ^ \ i.p ^ o p .iv r ^ ficHTt AetcC rot) TtATpoS fijLA.<Sys / \ c* u £ c £ Mark 1^:18 J \ . / c „ c/ <kpi\V A£^co VyUI V Otc £ t $ W A p A ^ ^ t L John 13:21 j, ^ t > • U p 'h jy A p ^ y \Sj/oo O /U LiV <-/ ? J c O N O tc £{$ ypC uV TT<kpdL&£>cr£c j a Z John 13*38 /*e Mark 1^:30 J V ■ / A j.4.^1^ ^ e£°° O'OC oLJLA.'fyK X e ^ uO CTo C OCC 17 «*Af A' 7- oy <^^VC f\TiAjp a ' y ~ p<ju\s >i<r ?{ £(^5 00 I ' ' aLpVr{ir'>i p-E 7^/5 John 18:10 ^'if* ,o o V r r z T p o s j' , £/Civy p A jL ciipU V £ c A K’ uo'Cv' ^ A^oU. v N £ r 7 c U < r e i/ T o y Too k p x t e ^ e ^ s GovXov Kdi litre K o p £ V io T o u To djTdLfHov To S t ^ i o V cru < T >2 jla,€. ffoiS Toiu T 7i r£ V u K T L t r p i V T ( cf/5 ci \ 4 . K T OpcC < P < L a jV '>\cr d LL T fts / * £ irrupy'ffo-'Ti Mark lA-j^y J c r ' ^ £t.S * £ 775 T<x>y TTdLpECTT K OT<A*\s (TTTckcr*f*y.v 05 T r \ y / V s p A ^ A f-p o ty £ w A t< r c v T oy < fo u \o y Tou ctpjc/epeovS kac A tfe 'tX z y cltsrou to 1 ' Co T<Ap / oV w John 18:33 Mark 15*2 <rd £C o fl^tr/Asus cru 8 f i d o - / \ € o $ *3^ OU Sd^l OU V' j T<**V j J - - O O <To< c c o V J John 19*19 Mark 15*26 *1't!<ro'u<> O N < A £<*y°«0o5 0 f i d i r t \ e i/s 7“ J^v jJjdoS6U cvV 0 ftc^art\z.u<; tv u \f J XouiTa(rcw/ John 19*29 Mark 15:36 C'JTo fijfO V OOSS f4£< rroV ^ £ ^ f< r< * s C T rT O ^o V OfoOs Tod Ofou$ u<r<rw/ru; 7TZf>LGei$ JfJL u; tref*/Sevres Tiponqvtnori^ev I lutov i u r o u It must be repeated, the above listing is not ex haustive, but merely representative. This listing, further, is limited to those places where there are exact verbal parallels. If the list were increased to include those places where the wording Is not exact but undeniably echoed it would be considerably longer. Also, it must be strongly stressed, these verbal parallels are not of the nature which would survive in oral tradition alone. The reference to the sponge is in no sense essential to the telling of the story. The employment of rare and even crude words, such as pallet or camp cot, or the costly nature of the ointment, are not commonly employed words, *+9 and \/ould disappear in oral transmission* That there were exactly five loaves and exactly two fishes, distributed in a grassy spot, are details of a nature to be ignored by oral story-tellers. ^ The argument for John's awareness of Luke as well as Mark is grounded on similar lines, and lists here too could be produced, if that task had not been done so well else- where.One of the basic arguments for some sort of lit erary tie between Luke and John is the fact that these two gospels alone correspond in details and names ignored in the other synoptic writings. For example, it is only Luke and John who supply us with the fact that it is the right ear of the high priest's servant which is cut off. It is only Luke and John who put before us such names as Mary, Martha, and Lazarus. Only Luke and John refer to Annas. Only Luke and John list a second disciple, other than Iscariot, whose name is Judas. Only in Luke and John is Judas* act of betrayal predicted by Jesus during the last supper, and not after, as in Mark. It is only in these two that the betrayal of Jesus by Judas is linked to Judas' being possessed by Satan. And it is only these two gospels which state that two angels, not one, were present at the empty tomb on Easter morning. It is difficult to believe that this kind of correspondence, in relatively insignifi cant detail, can be traced back to oral sources alone. In respect to Matthew, the argument for direct literary connection is difficult to claim as being beyond all doubt, but, conversely, that there is a high possibility of such is equally beyond doubt. The problem with Matthew is that it is precisely where the factual material seems closest that the two accounts diverge greatly in their language, or choice of specific words. However, when we examine the way in which John treats his known sources, the Old Testament, we will then be able to see that these divergences can just as easily be attributed to the stylistic idiosyncracies of the author as to the hypothesis of non-awareness, What can be said with certainty is thisi lists of verbal likenesses can be compiled. If it be argued that such lists do not prove that John knew Matthew (be cause many of the parallels of John-Matt hew are also John- Mark parallels), then while the case for literary awareness of Matthew is weakened, the case for literary awareness of h-7 Mark is conversely strengthened. f The argument from order bears equal weight with that concerning verbal likenesses. Indeed, In the eyes of at least one scholar, C.K.Barrett, this Is the primary bit of evidence showing that John knew Mark. Dr. Barrett lists ten major events (again, the list is not exhaustive) which liQ occur in the same sequence in John and in Marks 1. The work and witness of the Baptist. 51 2. Departure to Galilee. 3. Feeding of the Multitude. b. Walking on the Lake. 5. Peter*s Confession. 6. Departure to Jerusalem. 7. The Entry and the Anointing. 8. The Last Supper, with Predictions of Betrayal and Arrest. 9. The Arrest. 10. The Passion and Resurrection. Within these large blocks of material are found not only many of the verbal correspondences already noted, but further identical sequences as minor events within the larger events again unroll, in John, in the same order as in Mark. We have already argued that oral tradition alone was not sufficient to preserve such sequences. Another powerful argument in favor of John*s aware ness of the synoptics is that he constantly seems to pre suppose knowledge of them, not only on his part, but on the part of his readers as well. He makes references which become intelligible only upon the assumption that that which he is recounting is already well known, and that a passing allusion is sufficient to recall to the mind of the reader a wealth of background necessary to draw out the sense of the story he is telling. For example, John 1*30 52 and 3:28 refer back to something which the Baptist earlier said. But the Baptist in this gospel said no such thing earlier. The implication of course is that the evangelist is referring to some document or tradition known to the reader in which the Baptist did make such earlier state ments. Further, the context of John 1 *32-3*+ does not so much deny or suppress the fact of Jesus' baptism by John as it presupposes it. The reference to the dove descending upon Jesus would be common knowledge to any reader of the synoptics, sufficient in itself to bring to mind the entire baptismal scene of Jesus.^9 In similar manner "The Twelve" can be referred to as the disciples of Jesus, even though nowhere in this gospel are the names of the disciples ever given in a block, nor is their enlistment or commissioning recounted. Knowledge of them is simply assumed. The combined stories of the feeding of the multitude and Jesus' walking on the sea not only seem to assume knowledge of the synoptics on the part of the reader, but, even more than that, it seems that only when the two accounts are taken together do they fully make good sense. Apart, each is incomplete. Together, a fuller meaning does appear. For example, Mark's reference to the seating arrangement, groups of fifties and hundreds, "looks suspiciously like a military formation" and makes sense 53 only in the light of John's statement in 6:15 that they came to make Him kin-?.5° In the telling of the raising of Lazarus, John 11 :28 insists, Martha speaking to Mary, that o <SV Sck<r l t d A 05 A '^C flo u v£7 <*■£, but nowhere in the preceding passage does Jesus call for her. Luke 10:38-^2 is a necessary background, demanded to make such a desire 51 comprehensible. In the upper room, the omission of the Marcan narrative, John instead passing directly to the inter pretation of the Marcan words and actions, makes sense only upon the assumption that the readers were already cognizant of the facts of the matter, in need only of an explanation of the importance of the words they already knew. In a similar way, the trial before Gaiaphas can be sharply abridged and the narrative still read coherently only when one proceeds on the assumption that the readers were familiar with the older tradition. Even more importantly, the scene before Pilate— the charges raised and the questions asked of Jesus— simply do not make sense unless we can take for granted an awareness, on the part of both John and his readers, of the synoptic narrative.^ One could add, as a subpoint to this line of argument, that much of John's narrative not only presumes knowledge of the synoptic accounts, but actually improves the 5^ synoptic account. While much is omitted (because know ledge of the Marcan narrative can be taken for granted), what is added or altered clarifies the Marcan narrative, drawing out its earlier undeveloped meaning. One example of this has already been given, namely, John 6:1? sheds light on the quasi-military formation of those who ate the bread in Mark's account. Other, similar, examples could be cited, and will be discussed at length when we examine the historical value of the Johannine account. There are two ideas implicit in what has been said above, which ought be stated explicitly before this dis cussion is closed. One, it ought be clear that the view which maintains that John can stand alone, as a self- contained entity able to be read in isolation, is being rejected. Two, the view which would advance the date of John, making John and Mark contemporaries, is likewise rejected.53 Our overall conclusion is that our evangelist knew well the synoptic accounts. He parallels them, he at times quotes from-them exactly, he assumes knowledge of them on the part of his r e a d e r s . ^ We are now in a position to begin to sketch out our own understanding of the reasons behind the many differ ences between John and the synoptics. We can begin by referring to what has already been argued, namely, the synoptic gospels were known both to John and to his readers. They were known, and that was the problem] Two millenia of Christian interpretation ought not be allowed to obscure the fact that the synoptic gospels individually and as a group are woefully inadequate. None of them was written by an original eye-witness disciple, and as a consequence they are spotted with chronological gaps. Further, they are filled with undeveloped raw materials of theological expression which, because they are undeveloped, are open to serious misunderstanding. They are limited to an historical setting, Calilee of A.D. 30, which would be irrelevant to a later generation. These early gospels, in addition to all the other faults latent in what has already been stated, have the further fault of failing to agree among them selves.^ This was the situation which faced the church, and John, as the first century moved to its close. The church could no longer survive on the meager fare provided by the earliest evangelists. Mark, the first gospel, for some reason perhaps un known to us, omitted, if he knew at all, the virgin birth story. As a consequence, because of the way he worded himself in phrasing the baptismal scene, he opened the door to an adoptionist Christ ology.^ He said that the heavenly 56 X T c c >- voice was speaking to Jesus ( <ru ££ o u to s second person singular, Mark 1*11), implying that earlier Jesus did not even know of His divine character, Matthew may have had that problem in mind when he altered the phrase, put- c / ■ • c ting it into the third person singular (owroy £ < rT tV o v l o s /± otJy Matt.3S17) » implying that the revelation was made to the spectators, Jesus already knowing Himself to be God*s Son. Further, Matthew and Luke together may have been seeking to refute an adoptionist theory in their inclusion of the virgin birth story, for at least one of the effects of that narrative is to push the divine character of Jesus back beyond the baptism. But if that was their motive— to clarify Mark--the light they lit gave off more smoke than illumination. The virgin birth story is as in adequate as was the earlier Marcan account. It is not simply that the two accounts fail to agree externally one with the other, but they clash internally as well. To cite an example, the two geneologies of Jesus given in Matthew 1 and Luke 3 are irreconcilably opposed. Which one of David's sons was the ancestor of Jesus, Nathan (Luke 3:31) or Solomon (Matt.1:6)? They clash internally as well. Why are the geneologies present at all? If the virgin birth story is true, and Jesus was born without benefit of a human sire, why then list his progenitors down to and including Joseph? (Luke, or a later glossateur, 57 to his credit, is at least aware of the problem: 'X'H<rou$.. . oco's j °^s e v o p iL Z T G j Luke 3*23— but to be aware of the problem is not to solve it). Either the Holy Spirit was His father and the geneology is irrelevant, or else Joseph was His father and the virgin birth is denied. The net result is chaos, and the person of Jesus remains undefined. The problem of the person of Jesus is not confined to the virgin birth-baptism contexts, but runs throughout the synoptic narrative. It seems assumed throughout that Jesus is to be understood as a divine figure, metaphysically one with the God of the Jews. He claims, for example, in Mark 2*5»10 the power to forgive sins, a power belonging to God alone. That this is an implicit claim to divinity is re cognized by Jesus' audience which immediately recoils in horror, accusing Him of blasphemy, Mark 2:7. But this claim to divinity, implicit in the act, is never made ex plicit in the synoptics, and, conversely, never is the charge raised by the Jews--that Jesus is a blasphemer-- ever explicitly rebutted. The very fact that His own family (the oc ir* p J o c tr o i of Mark 3:21 must be read in the light of Mark 3*32-35— those who come to lead Him gently homeward are not "friends" but relatives) comes after Him verifies, it seems, the view that Jesus if not blasphemous was at least mad or seriously deluded. It could perhaps be 58 argued that Matthew was cognizant of this problem and thus he on the one hand suppressed this passage which indicated that Jesus' own kin saw Him as mistaken, and on the other hand he sought to make the divinity of Jesus more explicit by his elaborately constructed sermon on the mount, for in that sermon there again seems to be a claim to divinity present as Jesus again and again puts His own word equal to and above the revealed word of Sod given through Moses (Matt.5*21,22,27,28 et .ai). But if Matthew had sought to ease the problem, he certainly did not succeed. On the one hand, Luke flatly contradicts him, insisting that the sermon took place not on a mountain but on a plain (Luke 6*17, Matt.5!l), thus calling both accounts into question. And, on the other hand, it is Matthew who gives the most extended account of the temptation scene. If Jesus truly is Clod, as is implied in Mark 2:5 and Matt.5*21-22, how then explain the fact that the core of the temptation scene seems to be Jesus' own inclination to doubt that He is the Son of Sod (ei w o s i t . . . , Matt.L:3,5)? If He is Sod, why is He poor with no place to lay His head, to whom does He pray, and what does this do to Jewish mono theism? And why is He opposed by not only His countrymen at large, but by one of His own disciples as well? Where is His omniscience? Why did He choose such a rascal as Judas to be a boon companion, and why was He unable to pro- tact Himself from perfidy? How, if He were God, could He possibly entertain the thought of death— could God dle?^ 7 If, nevertheless, He indeed had decided to die, with all the problems that such a fact raised, why then did He shrink back in cringing fear in the eleventh hour pleading for exemption from such agony? ibid what of Mark's cry from the cross, insisting that He was abandoned of God (Mark 15*3*+)? not that indeed confirm the views of His enemies, that He was either a blasphemer or insane, and that a righteous God was pouring out on Him the just desserts of His evil pretensions? The synoptic gospels raise all of these problems and answer none of them. They thus demand either explication or rejection. They cannot survive as they stand. It is not sufficient, in the deepest sense, even to say that they contain the raw mater ial of a Christology which simply awaits later light. ^ The fact is instead that they contain such conflicting accounts and crosscurrents that they render the forming of a coherent Christology impossible. The synoptics demand radical rewriting, and not simply superficial reinter pretation, if they are to survive. If the person of Jesus is Incomprehensible In the synoptic narrative, the same must be said of His work and the course of His ministry. The temptation scene, already referred to, carries latent In it the implication that when 60 the ordeal had ended, all conflict with Satan had ended and Jesus had emerged victoriously. Again, to Luke*s credit, he at least seems to have sensed the problem (*5 S ia -p u 'k05 c* jrearTii o < rr u v r o u Luke but again, to sense the problem is not to solve it. Further, why do the three temptation accounts fail to agree? And why, if Jesus did in some sense vanquish the evil one, do the con flicts with evil powers wax rather than wane? The many exorcisms of Jesus are undoubtedly designed to indicate His superiority over the demons. But does not the fact that there are so many acts of exorcism indicate the very opposite, calling into question that alleged superiority, He never being able to eradicate the foe? Luke himself is obliged to admit, in parabolic form, Luke 11:2^-26, that when and as soon as Jesus accomplishes an act of cleansing powers more formidable than those earlier present come surging back in. Further, in respect to the exorcisms, there is an anthropology latent in the telling of these stories— an anthropology which presupposes man as helpless, open to the interference of evil celestial foes which man cannot resist. Is man truly that helpless? What then can one make of the constant demands of Jesus that His follow ers should come after Him? It appears that Matthew works to offset this negative and pessimistic anthropology in the sermon on the mount wherein demands are made, assuming 61 man to be responsible and able to meet those demands. But does not Matthew then abandon his own insight when he turns right around and ascribes evil acts not to individual man but to the evil one ( To rrepta-trMV rour*^ fV rob n o V 'T ip o o £ c m v , Matt.5*37)? Further, what does this constant reference to the world as being a place where the demons roam do to the cherished Jewish conviction that the earth is the Lord's and the fulness thereof? The miracle stories, which comprise the bulk of the Marcan narrative, at first reading create an image of a powerful Jesus sweeping away all obstacles before Him as Ha pours Himself out in compassion for the betterment of those about Him. But a sober second reading raises more problems than there are solutions available. If He is compassionate, why did He leave so many more unhealed than healed, unfed than fed, and why did He reject with near vehemence the touching plea of a troubled mother, relenting only when she accepted without objection the appelation "dog" (Mark 7*27, 28)? Why, if He was compelled by compassion alone, did so many hate Him so intensely? All these issues the synoptics raise and leave unanswered. The miracle stories carry the further implication that Jesus was but a wonder worker, an amusement center, a source of diversion and distraction, and that one could be objectively awed and entertained by watching Him perform, for in the performing of His many 62 mighty acts there are practically no demands made by Him either on those being acted upon or those present and observing If the miracle stories are difficult to deal with, the same can be said of almost every other incident re counted in the synoptics. What is the significance of the cleansing of the temple? The superficial answer is that it precipitated the final resistance of the Jerusalem religious authorities, and that is its significance. But was the significance limited to that? Was it merely a goad? Or was it an attack on the profiteering priest- merchants who abused their position? Or was it a rejection of the temple itself, Jesus rejecting all animal sacrifice? What was the relationship of Jesus to Judaism?^The same question lies behind the disputes concerning the law. Was He rejecting, in His conflicts with the Phariees and the scribes, their interpretation of the law or the law itself? Matthew*s comment of 5:17 is woefully inadequate, only compounding the confusion, for in that chapter Jesus is shown as claiming to full the law not abolishing it, and simultaneously substituting for it. Was Jesus, or was Jesus not, part of Judaism? To this, the synoptics give no univocal answer. The significance of the sacraments is never outlined. We know from Paul*s letter to the Corinthians that baptism 63 was open to abuse. But there is nothing in the synoptic gospels competent to serve as a corrective. Baptism is commanded (Matt.28:19, if it is not a gloss) but its pur pose is not explained. And the last supper receives, in 61 the synoptics, no explanatory glosses. Or, to be more exact, it appears that Matthew is at least aware of this problem and thus he alone adds the qualifying phrase that somehow this ceremony is connected with the remission of sins (the clause of Matt.26:28, £ cs c(<fie<rt\s <*yU<x^>r7cJV 9 does not appear in either Mark or Luke or I Cor.11), but how this forgiveness of sins is accomplished Matthew does not say. Indeed, nowhere in the synoptic gospels is the forgiveness of sins ever explicitly linked to the death of Jesus on the cross, and nowhere is His resurrection from the dead organically tied to the future life of those who follow Him. The bare fact Is that no redemptive value (however the word redemptive may be defined) is ever ex plicitly assigned to the death and resurrection of Jesus, except in the vaguest possible manner (Mark 10t*+5)* If the meaning of the last supper is not given, even more confusing are some of the other details of that final evening. Why, when the disciples have been flatly told that Judas is going to betray Jesus, do they do nothing to prevent it, instead permitting him to depart? On another front, who is able to comprehend, on the basis of the 6b synoptics alone, the fantastic reversal in behavior of the Jerusalem crowds who one day wildly cheer Jesus' entry by casting palm branches in His way only to later turn on Him hoarsely jeering and lusting for His death, screaming out "crucify Him, crucify Himl"? In addition to this welter of problems (and we have cited only a few) latent within the synoptic gospels them selves, later circumstances of the church produced a whole new web of circumstances, posing new problems for which the synoptics furnished no answer. For example, the very fact that there was a church at all posed a problem. In the light of the eschatological emphasis of the synoptic Jesus, it is highly doubtful that Jesus ever foresaw a church. In the famous dictum of Hering, "Jdsus a prdch§ le royaume de Dieu, mais c'est l'fjglise qui est venue." How explain that fact? Was Jesus mistaken? Or, to put it another way, was He a failure, and the later program of the church but m Inferior substitute?^^Or, in another direction on the same problem, if Jesus did foresee a community surviving Him, do not such passages as Matt.10:5-6 and Mark 7*27 clearly indicate that the composition of such a community was to be limited to Jews, not Including Gentiles? And yet the composition of the church at the close of the century was in transition, the Jewish element fading, being replaced by Gentiles. Was this a perversion of Jesus' teaching? And, 65 If there was to be a church, did it have a task to fulfill? Paul seems to have felt so, and thus engaged in missionary work. But the earliest church, the original disciples, seemed perfectly content in remaining in Jerusalem, doing nothing but going to and from the temple and participating in Jewish rites (Acts 3*1 i l j L This lack of a sense of missionary obligation could be traced back directly to the synoptic Jesus, for passages such as Mark 13*27 and Matt. 2*+*31 clearly state that any final ingathering of the elect is not the work of the disciples of Jesus but of the angels sent out by Crod.^3 Other new circumstances included the rise of a rival religion in some way attached to John the Baptist. The fact that Jesus Himself had been baptized by John, thusly subordinating Himself it would seem to John's authority, would be a powerful weapon in the hands of a rival sect, and some statement clarifying Jesus' relationship to John was demanded. Matthew, it appears, is at least cognizant of the problem and insists that as great as John was, the least of the followers of Jesus is greater than the great est in John's camp, including John himself (Matt.11*11), but this was an unsatisfactory half way point, for Matthew does clearly insist that ou*c S y'T ftfE fT o U €.v ^ e ^ y " r \T o c s Further, if the cleansing of the temple and Jesus1 66 disputes with the Pharisees in respect to the law gave no unequivocal answer on Jesus' relationship to Judaism, the Jews themselves drew their own conclusions and saw both Jesus and those who followed in His way as apostates. Hostility between Christian and Jew had congealed by the end of the first century into a definitive split and no longer could a man be both Christian and Jew as in the book of Acts. Instead, those who followed Jesus were put out of the synagogue, excommunicated. Judaism had given its 6k opinion on the relationship of Jesus to Judaism. What was the opinion of the church? If opinion had hardened on the part of the Jews, the same was true of the Romans. The church was suspect, con sidered subversive. Apologetic passages were interpolated into the letters of Paul, seeking to show that the church was not dangerous to the state, and Paul's traveling com** panion Luke, in his second volume, sought to make clear to the enemies of the church that the church was not revolutionary in intent. But these sporadic attempts at explication were only ex post facto. There was nothing in the life of Jesus itself indicating that His ministry was non-political beyond a vague reference to the necessity of giving Caesar's coins back to Caesar (probably vaticinia ex eventu). On the contrary, the synoptic evidence was all on the side of those who would seem Him as an enemy of the 67 Roman state, for it was as a common criminal that He was condemned and crucified.^ Most of all, the synoptics not only failed to account for the emergence of the church, but they had instead promised an immediate end of the world— an end which would come in the lifetime of the disciples themselves (Mark 9*1)• That promise failed. Already in Paul's lifetime the death of believers was a troublesome problem (I Thess.M-sl 3*18) • When Peter died, a further note of alarm was felt, and the gospel for the first time had to be reduced from oral trad ition into written form while there were still eye-witness disciples available who could testify to the accuracy of the written record. But that problem became even more acute when the number of disciples was reduced to but one. If there is any truth whatever in the ancient tradition that John son of Zebedee lived to an old age in Ephesus, and if there is any element of historical fact lying behind the allusion of John 21*23, then the idea had become rooted that Mark 9*1 would yet be fulfilled, and Jesus would indeed return before the last of His disciples would die, bringing all of human history to a close. That failed.^ It is in this context that the fourth gospel is written. Those who argue that John was written entirely independent of and in. ignorance of the synoptic gospels can say that only because they are insensitive to the enormous 68 breadth and depth of the problems precipitated by the prior gospels. The earlier gospels, what they promised, what they included, and what they failed to include, were them selves the problem. The problem was not with the fourth gospel but with the first three. John, rather than writing with a haughty sense of indifference towards them, as if he either did not know them or did not respect them as authoritative, is instead writing in order to salvage them, to vindicate them, to rephrase and alter them, shedding additional light upon them— additional light which would enable the church to retain them. Rather than seeking to replace or supplant them,.he is fighting to preserve them. It is precisely because they were authoritative documents in the eyes of both John and his readers that he sets him self to attack the problems they pose. His writing was an attempt to make sense out of, and thus preserve, the liter ary heritage of the church. ^ The thesis argued for here, then, is that John can be comprehended only within the context afforded by the three synoptics. The thesis we will argue for Is that Clement*s view Is the correct one, namely, John wrote a gospel to supplement the synoptics. A supplement designed to vin dicate the earlier writings, making their retention possi ble. It is further to be argued that this supplement is not to be understood primarily as an addendum of new 69 material. There is very little in John which is in and of itself absolutely new. Rather, the supplement must be understood in the sense of a corrective. And this is to be grasped in two ways. First, it is an historical corrective. John corrects toward history, giving a far more comprehensible recounting of many of the incidents in Jesus' life. And, secondly, it is a theological corrective. John corrects away from history, often moving further away from historical fact, rejecting the actual historical incident, in order to better bring out the essential mean- ing of the incident as it is recorded in the synoptics. It will further be argued that of these two, it is the second which is the basic thrust of John. More often than correcting toward history, he corrects away from it. These two ideas— that John both moves from and toward history— we must now examine further, beginning with the view that John often preserves a far more valuable historical record than do the synoptics. It is no longer possible to dismiss the historicity of John in a scornful aside. If there is any truth what ever in the claims of such scholars as Gardner-Smith and Dodd that the fourth gospel embodies a strain of tradition Independent Df the synoptic gospels, then it must follow that we can reasonably expect to find, at least in a few 70 places, an account of the ministry of Jesus equally as re liable as that found in the synoptics.^9 The claim that John is in places equal to and even superior to the synoptics in historical value is not new. There has always been at least a minority opinion in Johannine studies that this gospel embodies an historically reliable record.'70 What is new, though, is the manner and mood in which this claim today is being presented. Earlier there was always the suspicion that such a claim grew out of apologetic motives, inspired by a perhaps laudable but ill-founded desire to salvage John for the sake of redeem ing that part of the church*s heritage.'7 1 That is, perhaps the attempt grew out of piety and loyalty to tradition, rather than out of scientific evaluation of the evidence. That which characterizes the "new look" however is that it claims, and appears to justify that claim, that no apolo getic motive is present; that the gospel of John is indeed able to withstand the searing light of scientific scrutiny and recommend itself well, once that scrutiny is accom plished, as historically reliable. It is in that vein that we have seen appear not simply one or two isolated articles, but rather a whole stream of discussions each one claiming that in John there can be seen solid historical recollec tions superior to those recorded in the synoptics. Wot only articles, but entire books have appeared as well.'72 71 To turn to specific discussions, recent archeological investigations have done much to vindicate some of the casual topographical references made in John. For example, the reference in John 19*13» To t t o v /[cQ6o -7 ~f>c * * 'r<>, C C E fip u !c a r t.L 0 0 & Q eu 9 seems to in dicate that John had available to him information superior to anything found in the synoptics. While the exact site and its significance is debated, there seems little room for legitimate debate that John did in fact preserve here valuable independent historical information.^ In like manner, the reference to the Baptist's activity as un rolling at Aenon near Salim (John 3*23) is also looked upon with new appreciation. The reference of John 5*2 to five porticoes can no longer be depreciated and subjected to a fanciful allegorical interpretation as was common in an earlier day, but is instead now apparently verified as historical fact. So also, the reference of John 8*20 to Jesus' speaking in the treasury can no longer easily be set aside.^ And if the scene of the ministry of the Baptist seems verified, so also there seems now to be sufficient evidence of the trustworthiness of other references to him, leading prominent scholars to argue that in the entire Johannine portrait of the Baptist there is much which smacks of historical reliability.^ 72 Once the accounts of the Baptist*s southern ministry are claimed as rescued from the accusation of being due to the dramatic inventiveness of the evangelist, it would apparently follow that the Johannine references to a southern campaign of Jesus as well are to be accepted as historical and no longer set aside. And there has been no dearth of arguments claiming precisely that, insisting that a southern ministry of Jesus did take place, and further insisting therefore that John is to be seen at this point as more trustworthy than the synoptics which omit such references.^ Even some of those events, unique to the fourth gospel and so peculiarly Johannine as to have earlier con vinced almost all scholars that they were theological in vention, have now found protagonists willing to argue for their historicity. For example, there is evidence of a growing reluctance to dismiss entirely the Lazarus story as dramatic fiction alone.^The Johannine dating of the supper, with its implications for the dating of Jesus* death, has been claimed as superior to the synoptics/7 ® The Johannine anointing scene,- linked by the presence of common names to the Lazarus event, has also been defended as containing at least a nucleus of historical material superior to anything found in the synoptics .79Even the Johannine dating of the cleansing of the temple has found 73 advocates. Another general line of argumentation, appearing with impressive frequency, is the claim that when John describes what is obviously the same event being described in the synoptics, it is John who provides a more coherent and logical development, thus it is John1s account which can lay greater claim to historical reliability. For example, the two stories of the feeding of the multitude and the walking on the sea are laid side by side in the Marcan account, but their juxtaposition is artificial and nothing binds the two stories into a cohesive whole. But that which Hark fails to do, John does, showing how the two events do indeed be long together in one organic whole. And this has further implications for other events, such as the synoptic Caesarea scene.®0 There are many other evidences of a more primitive and a more reliable strain appearing in John than in the synoptics, including both isolated comments made in passing and major themes running below the surface of the entire gospel. For example, the fact that Judas is not shown as betraying Jesus with a kiss is taken by some as indicating a far more primitive tradition, not yet colored by the Q4 heightening hand of later legend. In the same way, Pilate*s collapse in the face of the Jewish threat to accuse him to his superiors as harboring a dangerous criminal (John 19s 7^ 12-13) is taken as indicating knowledge of Pilate's odious character. He cannot risk being so accused,®^ Schmiedel could, in an earlier day, dismiss almost with a sneer the Johannine account of the arrest of Jesus, pointing to the number of troops involved as indicative of unreliable nature of the narrative. That very same passage now can be argued for as indicative of the superior worth of John. It is conceded that the number of troops poses a problem, due perhaps to the theolological interest of John, but the composition of the band, including Homan soldiers in the number, a fact unnoted by the synoptics, must be given full weight. How could the Jews alone, a subject people under the careful scrutiny of the Romans, have assembled an armed band in the middle of the Passover season (a time when patriotic fervor ran high) without ex citing Roman resistance? The only answer, apparently, is that supplied by John, namely, the Jewish band operated with the full approval of and with the co-operation of the Roman officials.®^ The story of Peter warming himself in the courtyard of the high priest after Jesus' arrest was in an earlier day used as evidence that John's gospel was marked by serious dislocations (John 18*25 ought follow John 18:18), but now it is argued that John is seeking to develop the same kind of dramatic portrayal that Mark tried, and failed, 75 Q L * . to accomplish. The argument for the greater historical verisimil itude of John is extended into other parts of the trial and passion narrative. The insistence of John 18s31, that the Jews were powerless to inflict the death penalty, has been debated, but the emerging consensus seems to be that the passage is accurate, revealing a keen awareness of the political realities of the day. In like manner, the scourging of Jesus by Pilate has now been shown to be en tirely probable in the light of criminal procedures of the day .85 John not only seems to be better informed as to the dramatis personae. but seems also to give greater attention to the political overtones latent in the trial of Jesus. Caiaphas* fear that the Romans might very well react and destroy the nation (John 11:50) is on the one hand unnoted in the synoptics but is on the other hand precisely that kind of fear which would haunt the minds of the Sadducean 86 aristocracy of that day. And, further, the reference in John *f:U6 to a f i u c i k c K 05 corresponds more fully to the political realities of that day than does anything in the 87 parallel synoptic accounts. ' G.H.Dodd is so convinced of the, in places, superior historical accuracy of John over the synoptics that he is even inclined to suggest that a passage long abandoned by 76 the commentators as theological fiction— the account of the water and the blood flowing from the pierced side— is to be accepted as historical fact.®^ In like manner, other events, subsequent to the crucifixion, have been claimed as more authentic than the synoptic accounting. We have listed but a few of the places where it is argued that John is to be preferred to the synoptics. Some of the arguments referred to seem irrefutable, proving to all but the most recalcitrant of scholars that John indeed is able to bring us closer to historical reality than are the synoptic writers. No one would foolishly claim that each of the examples cited bears equal weight. There are places where the smoother reading of John is to be seen as due to the desire of John to make a more coherent narrative out of the chaotic record of the synoptics, rather than to superior information. He may have, on his own, without historical justification, simply altered the facts in order to make a better story. Indeed, this is at times a far more preferable way of explaining some of his most notable departures from the synoptic narrative. Thus even those scholars seeking to argue for the high historical value of John pause to remind us that there are times when a change seems due to theological motivation rather than superior in formation. In. such cases, the text-critical principle, that the more difficult reading is to be preferred, must here be 77 applied. That is, it does not necessarily follow that just because John makes better historical sense he is therefore to be followed. The exact opposite may be true, namely, perhaps John (as much as the modern scholar) was aware of the gaps, problems, contradictions, and undeveloped allusions of the synoptic narrative, and rewrote those stories in order to make them flow more smoothly. But even when full resoect is paid to that fact, it must nevertheless be insisted that at least in some of the readings the observations of John are to be preferred?^ When all of the places where an ulterior theological motive of John can be detected at work have been subtracted, there still remains a residue indicating that he did in fact have superior historical information and he has indeed corrected the synoptic narrative toward history. The contemporary scholar finds before him a "new look" on the fourth gospel, and in that perspective he can rejoice, relieved of the earlier attempts (unscholarly on both sides of the critical fence) to either disparagingly reject John in its entirety as historically inferior, or the attempt to salvage John out of loyalty to church tradition alone. Much has been done to redress the balance of an earlier day. But a word of caution must be spoken. There ia a residue of historically superior material in John. But it 78 only a residue.-^ John is capable of correcting toward history, but when one has subtracted that which, on the hand, is already known from the earlier writers, and that which, on the other hand, is traceable to the theological motives of John, the fact remains (noted already) that there is a paucity of new material. It is important that our enthusiasm for the rising historicity of John not be allowed to lead us into excessive claims. The pendulum is not to be allowed to swing too far in the opposite direction. John can and does correct toward history, but this is a minor stream of Johannine thought. The major thrust of John is to be found in his correcting awav from history. Before we can develop that thought in greater depth, we must first pause to stress more fully this note of caution. QO There is much in John which is not historical. For example, many of the casual references to time and place which stud the gospel have been taken as indicating the presence of an eye-witness. Why else, it has been argued, would such extraneous and apparently pointless material be inserted If it were not grounded in memory? ^ Such an argument falls short of bearing the weight placed on it, and can be refuted from a variety of direc tions. In the first place, who is to say beyond shadow of 79 all doubt that the references truly are "pointless"? It may be, instead, that some polemical, or apologetic, or theological interest lurks behind the allusions, and that the references appear pointless to us only because we have — Q l+ lost the keys necessary to unlock their meaning. Indeed, there is no lack of scholars prepared to argue that these casual time and place references are not at all the un studied asides of an eye-witness, but are instead deliber ate creations. 9^Some have suggested that these references are to be understood allegorically, and while some of the explanations given are lacking in persuasiveness, others 96 do seem to be sound. Still others of these time and place references, while their historical nature may be beyond debate, seem to have undergone a process whereby their historical truth has been subordinated to a theological interest. To be specific, it is no doubt true ^hat when Judas left the room r fy (John 13:30), but there can be no reasonable doubt that here the primary meaning is not the hour of the day or night involved, but rather the theological fact that Judas was evil and preferred darkness instead (John 3:19-20, also 1 :*+-?). "Night" in this gospel is a theological 97 term. Or, in like manner, the statement that Caiaphas was *** Tou iv c o L ^ro u & K £tvo\* (John 11:^9) has been reclaimed as historical, and the argument now given is 80 that John is not revealing an historical ignorance implied in apparently limiting a lifetime office to a one year tenure, but is instead stressing the fact that in that year at that critical time Gaiaphas was the man serving as the 98 high priest. But closer examination reveals that the whole debate is irrelevant, for what is basic to John's thought is not at all the historical fact but rather the theo logical fact, namely, that Gaiaphas' malignant intentions were overruled by God and thus, despite the fact that he was an enemy of Jesus, since he was the high priest, God used him as a mouthpiece and caused him to prophesy in one succinct statement the vicarious nature of Jesus’ death: oocfe Xo ycteo-& £ otc crufjp£jO£i. ufjC\s tt'tu sis & T T O & 0 L V T I o T £ p T O O A o i o o K < ic /< -■ »[ ©Aov' T o € & v O s o iffo A*iT*<-* r o o T o S C cA$J tA o T o lr o u K GitTEVj <*AA<a. i p j L L t p i l s - r< T o e^cciuT^i I k z ' v o u i i r p o ^ r e v t r e y O C C . £ / ^ z A A z y ' T i t r o Z s i i n ° e v ^ a - K z t * Z r t E f r o b £ & V o o s (John 11:50-51). History, here, has been subordinated to theology. All that can be said is that these references may be historically valuable, but, of course, it is also possible that they may not be. Indeed, the greater liklihood of the latter is thrust upon us when we recog nize, as we will in a moment, that many of these references are embedded in the middle of a context which cannot be taken as historically valid. There is another block of material in John which is 81 beyond all doubt not historical but rather due to the imaginative theological creativity of the author— the speeches of Jesus. While there are still a few who con tinue to insist that the speeches could have taken place as recorded, the general consensus of opinion is on the other side. Not even the staunchest defenders of the historicity of John have ventured to reclaim these speeches in their entirety as historical. It is perhaps true to say that too much can be made of the differences. The great '*1 am" discourses in some ways are not essentially differ ent from remarks made in the synoptics. An agile exegete can persuasively maintain that Matt.5*21-22, 27-28 e_t al» and Matt.11t27 serve as seeds for the more extended dis courses. Nonetheless, even when that is conceded, we must not err in the opposite direction and make too little of the differences, for as we have already noted it is often precisely where John is closest to the synoptics that the greatest differences emerge.^9 Further, there is an additional and self-evident fact of enormous implications which has not been fully enough recognized. Many of the speeches are made in camera. The conversation with Nicodemus, the dialogue with the woman of Samaria, and the exchange with Pilate, all take place in private. Despite their wealth of details woven into these discourses and their immediate contexts which seem to many 82 to prove that ws have here historically reliable material, the irrefutable fact remains that there is no other way to explain these conversations than as free creations of the evangelist. No witnesses were present and thus they cannot 1 no be taken as stenographic accounts. Indeed, this is a characteristic running all through this gospel, namely, that it is precisely in those places where we seem to have much evidence indicating the his toricity of the material that we have simultaneously the greatest amount of material which cannot be reclaimed as historically valuable. The woman at the well story Is in troduced with precise chronological-topograDhical material (John *+:3-6 makes reference to countries, to a town, and even to the hour of the day, as well as to Jesus' physical condition), and closes on the same note (John in dicates a time of harvest). Yet the dialogue, which is indisputably the heart of the narrative, occurs, as noted, in camera, and cannot be accepted as it stands as solid history. This alone ought alert us to the fact that per haps these casual and pointless asides are not at all casual and pointless but are Instead deliberately sown by the evangelist in order to provide a framework of verisimil- 1 01 itude for his narrative. It may very well be that John is closer to fact than the synoptics when he insists that Roman soldiers made up 83 at least part of the band which arrested Jesus. This does seem to correspond more fully than do the earlier writings to the political realities of that day. But that we should move on from there to conclude that it is a fact that the entire troop fell flat on their backs when Jesus spoke to them is absurd. Far easier is it to suppose that there is a theological motive at work, at least at this point, which 10P moves us further from rather than closer to history. In in the same line, if John's reconstruction of the feeding of the multitude is truly to be deemed more trust worthy than the synoptics in that it accords more fully with the political aspirations of the crowd, how do we ex plain what follows? Is it reasonable to assume that Jesus would firstly despatch His disciples to keep them from being infected by zelotic fever, would secondly personally flee in order to thwart the political-Messianic aspirations of the crowd, and would then turn right around and re assemble the dangerous mob?^^ Further, if it is true that John is more aware of the political undercurrents of that day than were the synoptics, how then do we account for his version of the triumphal entry? If it would be Impossible for the Jewish religious leaders to assemble, at night, an armed band of soldiers during the Passover season because the Romans would be standing ready to suppress such overt political and military 8b movements, how do we explain the tumultous welcome scene, unrolling in broad daylight, and unrolling without the slightest hint of Homan interference? It seems only logical to assume that John can move just as easily away from history as toward it. There must be some theological motive here, to which the historical facts are subjected. If we are to be scientific at all, we must be im pressed by those scholarly arguments which insist that the trial of Jesus as told by John rings far truer than in the synoptics. He imposes an order upon and gives coherence to the earlier narrative which is at least in part unintellig ible, But it is not to be therefore decided that the story in John in its entirety is more accurate, historically. It cannot be overlooked that the core of the Johannine trial story is found in the dialogue with Pilate, and as we saw, those were private conversations. Further, at least two other points must be noted. Firstly, John seems to be dominated by a polemical interest. To put it bluntly, Pilate is practically whitewashed. He not only pronounces Jesus, repeatedly, as innocent of all crime, but struggles to free Jesus. Finally his hand is forced by the Jews who resort to outright coercion. In short, rather than the conviction of Jesus being a miscarriage of justice for which both the Romans and the Jews are responsible, as in the synoptics, the Romans are exculpated and the Jews alone accused. This is precisely the sort of argument we would expect to find developed at the close of the first century when the Jews and the Christians were locked in bitter dis pute on the one hand, and, on the other, the church was seeking desperately to make clear its nonsubversive nature. What better device available than to show that the Roman spokesman, Pilate himself, found Jesus innocent, and that the Jews alone were the guilty ones. In one dramatic move John both honors the Romans and denounces the enemies of the church, the Jews. This is clear evidence not of an historical accuracy but of a polemical aim. Secondly, there is evidence of theological motivation at work. John, as we have seen, has already insisted that Caiaphas, despite his evil intentions, had his own wishes overruled and bent to the purposes of God. His practical advice, meant on one level simply as justification for judicial murder, comes through the divine overruling to be a prophetic summary of Jesus* substitutionary and redemptive death. In precisely the same way, John shows Pilate even against his will perhaps confessing Jesus as king (John 18:37, 19*1, 19*1^. 19*19-22). And that the point might not be missed by his readers, John puts words into the mouth of Jesus which deny all independent power to Pilate: o W •»/ > / . > j ^ > . s > ' ? £cfi£f £foo(r'/4v tCdLT civ £L JfV' S' ojulZvo' S < tol civ<*» ©£ v (John 19*11). That is, there is but one actor in the death of Jesus, and that is God. 86 This is not only a political apologetic, excusing Pilate. It is a theological claim as well. We know that the death of Jesus was being used as a weapon of the enemies of the church. It was claimed that that death proved that Jesus was not God, for how could Sod die? Jesus was being punished, it was held, for being a blasphemer. The cross was a v<£<* A ov" to the Jew and foolishness to the Greek (I Cor.1:23)* But John here is arguing instead that the death of Jesus a glorification of Him, an exalting time of "lifting up" by the Father who alone was active in the event, working out His own will. Why was Pilate never punished by God for his crime? John gives the answer, he was but a puppet in the hands of the mighty God who gave him power from above. History has been subordinated to other motives. What is most striking is that it is precisely here, where John is closest to the synoptics (John 18:33 is ver bally identical with Mark 15*2) that the greatest diver gences appear, for it is that familiar synoptic phrase which opens the door to John’s development of his peculiar idea of Pilate as being but a pawn in God's hands. These things, which are in one sense separate but in another sense flow together, namely, (1) John is closest to the synoptics in those very contexts where he departs from them most dramatically, and (2) John is closest to 87 history in precisely those places where he seems to sub ordinate history to other motives, characterize the entire gospel. There can be little doubt, for example, that the scene of John 12:27 is deliberately designed to echo and recall the synoptic Crethsemane scene, Mark 15:3^. One has the feeling that John has intentionally phrased himself in such a way that all but the most casual of readers would have that earlier synoptic scene come flooding into his mind as he reads John 12:27. And yet, having deliberately evoked the agony of Jethseraane, John goes on to draw con clusions diametrically opposed to what we find in the earlier writings. There, He asks for the cup of suffering to be taken from Him. Here, He vigorously affirms His willingness to persevere. It is infinitely easier to as cribe this difference to theological motivation than to greater historical awareness. John's soul seems troubled by what he found in the synoptics, thus he deliberately calls the passage to mind in order to correct it, moving away from history in the process. Elsewhere, it has already been granted that in many respects John's account seems to better explain the final scenes of Jesus' life. But does that mean that we are to accept the Johannine portrait of Jesus on the cross, turn ing His mother over to the beloved disciple for safekeep ing, as more reliable historically than anything found in 88 the synoptics? To claim that is not only to repudiate the synoptics (for they show all the friends and followers of Jesus has having fled to a far distance), but to go against common sense as well. That a man, in his dying moments, enduring one of the most agonizing forms of execution ever devised, should calmly assume the role of a traffic director, bequeathing his mother to another is, to say the least, if taken historically, incredible. Far better it is to see the story as due to some theological motivation, and not due to greater historical awareness. The same must be said of the scene at the tomb. That there might have been a tomb in the immediate area, and that the synoptic writers were unaware of that fact whereas 1 Oh- John was, is entirely possible. But to go on from there to claim historical accuracy for the Johannine account which claims that one hundred pounds of ointment were used to em balm Jesus is too much to be accepted. There is a merging of fact and interpretation, history and theology, unto which neither side of the older controversy over the historicity of John was, by itself, able to do justice. Perhaps it is true that KciAe is a common title of that day, and easily comprehensible against the back drop of prevailing customs. But it must be noted that Mary does not use that term (John 20:16). She uses the term c / and it is the author who translates it into 89 . And is got a common term easily explained. It is reserved for Crod.^^ Thus the story is nrima facie seen as patently theological, as is the later confession of Thomas in John 20:28. In like manner, for those who would argue for the historicity of the interwoven events of the anointing at Bethany and the raising of Lazarus, one has much sympathy. But that sympathy survives only when and in so far as this claim for historicity is confined to the attempt to reclaim minor details alone. Once the entire event is reinstated, it becomes impossible to concur.10^ Our argument thus far can be summarized, and a con clusion drawn. We would insist that there is much in John indicating a profounder historical familiarity and aware ness than is found in the synoptics. John is capable of correcting the synoptic narratives, bringing them closer to historical reality. He has more and better information than his predecessors had. But it is not John's primary purpose to correct bare factual utterances. Often it is entirely clear that even as he moves closer to history, deliberately recalling the synoptics in the process, he finishes by obscuring both the synoptics and history. One can phrase this even more sharply. There seem to be places where John intentionally echoes the synoptics, 90 calling those earlier stories to mind by deliberately using or echoing a familiar phrase, only to end up contradicting not only what he has recalled, but contradicting himself as well. Or, to put it another way, there seem to be places where John is saying, in effect, that what the synoptics stated was correct, but he nonetheless intends to alter it. He both affirms and simultaneously denies the synoptics. Two examples will perhaps suffice. There can be little doubt that whatever else one may find in chapter six of John in the way of historical verisimilitude, this chapter must be seen primarily as a commentary upon the last supper. It is eucharistic in nature. On the one hand, then, John makes the synoptic narrative more comprehensible by giving additional historical background which makes the story un roll in a more logical manner. But he then simultaneously contradicts the synoptics by transferring out of the final night of Jesus' life the explicatory eucharistic glosses, giving to them a much earlier dating in the life of Jesus. But this is not the end of his contradictions. He also contradicts himself. It seems that even as he moves the eucharistic words forward in the life of Jesus, he is at the same time insisting that those words were in fact spoken 1 0 7 at the end of Jesus' life. 'He insists upon adding into the feeding story the time reference that the Passover was at hand (John 6:*+) , a point nowhere noted by the synoptics. 91 1 OR This is important to John, not at all a casual aside. When it is recalled that John later insists that Jesus died at precisely the hour in which the paschal lamb was slain, and when it is further recalled that Jesus was earlier identified as the lamb of Jod by John the Baptist, it is clear that we are being told that somehow this feeding, and the eucharistic discourse which exolains it, both stand in intimate relationship to the death of Jesus— precisely as the synoptics insist I He seems to evoke the synoptic parallel solely to reject it. But in rejecting it, he seems to again affirm it. Perhaps this pattern is more easily seen in our second example. In the cleansing of the temple we have once more the time sequence of the synoptics being simultaneously re jected and then reconfirmed. It is rejected, quite ob viously, in that the cleansing takes place in John not at the end of Jesus* life in His final week, but rather three years earlier at the very outset of His ministry. But the synoptic chronology seems to be affirmed, and John seems to be at least implying that the event truly did take place later in Jesus' life, indeed at the very end of Jesus' life, in several phrases which he sows into the narrative. For example, the phrase of John 2t19, which speaks of the destruction of the temple and the raising of it anew in three days, would be known to every reader of the synoptics 92 as an event standing in intimate relationship to the end of Jesus' life, an event out of His trial, the night before He died (Mark 1^s^8), Further, the evangelist evokes, in this very context, the memory of Jesus' death (John 2:22).10^ In short, we must proceed very cautiously when we speak of John contradicting or altering the synoptic order of events. In one sense this is true. He does move events out of their familiar sequence, giving them a new setting. But in another sense it is false, for even as he assigns a new place to the event, he seems to deliberately seek to reaffirm, albeit in an indirect and allusive way, the synoptic chronology. He places the cleansing of the temple at the beginning of Jesus' life, but he reminds his readers in the asides noted that this event is correctly understood only when it is understood in the context of the end of Jesus' life. His effect must have been jarring. And it appears he intended it to be jarring^%e seems to acknowledge that the synoptic sequence is truer to fact, and still he in sists on radical alterations. .Thy? The answer we give is that he is correcting awav from history. All of the italicized words must be stressed equally. He is correct ing. That is, he is seeking to bring out the true essential inner meaning of the synoptic narrative. He is not Invent ing material nor creating narrative out of his own head. 93 He is dedicated to the synoptics and their essential mean ing. But also, he is correcting away from history. It seems to be his conviction that the way in which the story is told in the synoptics renders impossible a proper com prehension of that story. There is a meaning latent in the raw historical facts of the synoptics, but the way in which those facts have been laid out— even if they have been laid out in proper chronological sequence— has made It impossible to gain a proper appreciation of their meaning. He must correct away from history, remolding the facts in order to bring out their sense. The synoptics themselves are the problem. They are being misunderstood. They are being so grossly misunderstood that it is not sufficient to add marginal notes to them. They must be entirely rewritten in order that the meaning which they both contain and confuse can stand clear. Before we can give several specific and extended ex amples of how and why John corrects away from history, several basic facts must be noted. The first basic fact is this. It is no longer possible to do as was long ago done, namely, to artificially distinguish between John and the synoptics, Insisting that the first writers were concerned merely with the raw data of Jesus' life, whereas John the theologian was concerned 9b only with the spiritual side of things} " * 1The day is now past when we can set the literary-theological contributions of the synoptic writers aside, dismissing them as adherents of the "paste-and-scissors" school. If there is any truth at all in the Form Critical school's claim that in the oral tradition the message of Jesus existed in isolated frag ments, then we are confronted by the inescapable fact that these early evangelists were literary masters. Their work indeed may have left many gaps, omissions, and inconsisten cies sufficient to perplex the reader. Nonetheless, no thoughtful reader can fail to be impressed at the way these splintered independent pericopes have been welded together into a theological whole. Mark, writing to the Romans, writing for purposes of evangelism, has produced a literary and theological unity of massive and impressive magnitude. He begins by confessing to his Roman audience that the story about to be told is of no mere mortal, but the saga 112 of the Son of Cod. And he is able to end his account when a Roman officer, present at the scene, in charge of the execution detail, has those words of awe and admiration ripped out of his mouth, "Truly this was a son of Cod." The story begins with a statement to the Romans, and ends with a Roman confirming the truth of that statement. The Romans were respectors of strength and power, masters of the whole known world, conquering wherever they went. 95 Their legions had carried the Roman war emblems from the fog shrouded moorlands of northern England to the sunny sands of Africa, from Spain in the west to the fabled cities of the orient, Rome was the master of all she sur veyed, And such a people would be little impressed by the story of a selfless Jesus, preaching platitudes of kindness and forgiveness. They would have little time for the tale of a man, no matter how well-intentioned, who was but an effeminate weakling unable to protect Himself from the calumny of betraying friends and hostile crowds. They would listen only to the story of a virile, masculine, con quering personality, for such is what they were— a virile, masculine, conquering people, Mark therefore sketches out Jesus as the most dynamic figure ever to walk across the stage of human history. In his faltering ungrammatical Greek there emerges a portrait of a man of elementary power, dominating every situation in which He ever found Himself. A man, like the Romans, the master of all He surveyed, in control of every event which occurred, a man a cut above ordinary humanity because He was more than mere man, the Son of God, Thus Mark sup presses and ignores the early years of Jesus. He does not want his audience thinking of Jesus growing up like a man. He begins instead with the beginning of the ministry, Jesus being baptized and swinging into action. The temptation. 96 story is told, but it is told in less than two verses, for to dwell on the temptation, stressing its duration, would be to stress the staying power of the tempter rather than the triumphant power of Jesus. Thus the encounter in the wilderness is recorded but left undeveloped, Mark passing instead to the impressive stories of Jesus* supernatural might, acknowledged even by the malignant powers of the supernatural underworld. Hven the demons cry out that He is the holy one of God. But the Markan Jesus will accept no acknowledgements from them, for for them to acknowledge Him is to imply obliquely His unity with them. He has come not to receive their adulation but to destroy them, set ting at liberty those writhing in bondage under their demonic power. He is the one stronger who has plunged into human history. Thus, with a word. He rebukes them and strangles them, choking off their activity. This impress ive picture of Jesus as an inexhaustible fountain of strength and power is painted with ever brigher hues as the gospel unfolds, ' . t f h s n the day is ended, His work is not yet done and He works half the night. The other half of the night, a great while before day, He is out praying, in communion with God. Confronted with demon-possession, He liberates the oppressed. Confronted with hunger, He multi plies the bread. Confronted with sickness, He restores to health. Confronted with death, He brings back to life. 97 There is nothing in all of creation able to stand in His way, separating men from the redemptive cleansing of God, If there are forces outside of man tyrannizing man, Jesus is stronger (He stills the storm). If there are forces in side of man tyrannizing man, Jesus is stronger (He casts out the legion of demons). When doubt develops and His own family is cast into perplexity by the implications of His claims, Jesus repudiates the doubters. When opposition develops and His own people seek to kill Him, Jesus re jects the old Israel and establishes a new Israel, twelve new tribes, the disciples, to replace the faithless and rebellious. Indeed, Mark will not even let it go at that, depicting Jesus as reacting and adjusting to emerging re sistance. On the contrary, even here Jesus is shown as in charge, not reacting to but controlling the unrolling de velopments. It is His staggering claim to divinity which precipitated the doubts of His family. He has created the situation rather than being captive to it. It is His staggering claim to superiority over the sabbath, to a power not to be fettered by or subordinated to Jewish law, which precipitated the resistance of the Jewish leaders. He has not been forced to react to their hostility, but He has Instead goaded them, antagonized them, forcing them into opposition, controlling the situation. And then when their resistance has been evoked and 98 brought to the surface, it is made clear that these opponents of Jesus are children of the devil, at one with the supernatural powers of the underworld. In a brilliant literary juxtaposition in Mark 6 we have, on the one hand, the death of John the Baptist, and, on the other hand, the story of Jesus feeding the multitude. The Baptist is the forerunner, the one who prepares the way for Jesus. How does he prepare the way? By dying. The first chill wind of the impending death of Jesus blows across the gospel page.’ But this man whom they seek to kill, what has He done? Ho has fed the multitudes, poured Himself out in compassion upon those who are lost, like sheep without a shepherd. That is the man they seek to killI Their diabolical nature is made clear. This is the way the first half of the gospel of Mark unrolls. It is a story of warfare, of cosmic warfare. The power of God has come in Jesus of Nazareth to do battle with and to route the entrenched forces of evil. These early chapters of Mark are dominated by a stress on the miraculous , 1 l3The se early chapters are a story of attack and counterattack, of Jesus striking out at His foes, and of those foes striking back— but never successfully. Like concentric circles spreading out from a central power station, the efforts of Jesus extend ever further, forcing the enemy into ever greater but always unsuccessful 99 countermeasures. And the disciples, sharing these frenetic early days, begin in a position of ignorance. Aware they are that this is no mere mortal who has beckoned them to follow, but be yond this recognition of power they remain unseeing. But finally, when they have observed long enough His astounding abilities, the miracle of perception is theirs, and they come to recognize that here is the man, the one sent of God, and the transfiguration assures them that Jesus is indeed the blessed Son of the almighty God. The revelation having been made, the confession of faith soon follows and Peter, speaking for the group, at last acknowledges what Mark claimed in his first verse and what the Homan officer is 1 1 Ll later to avow— that Jesus is the holy one of God. This is the first major theme running through Mark, dominating evsry word he puts down. Mark the theologian has insisted, and those present have confirmed it, that Jesus is the most powerful personality ever to have entered human history— for He is God Himself entered into human history. Here is a man to whom even the Romans, conquerors of continents, can look to in respect and devotion. But Mark's task is not yet done. It is not suffic ient to show Jesus as all powerful, for there remains the fact of His death. A death imposed by Romans, the very people to whom Mark is writing. It is not enough to show 100 Jesus as innocent, a victim of a Roman miscarriage of justice. This would solve nothing. It would only com plicate matters. On the one hand, it would insult the Roman audience, calling into question their justice upon which they prided themselves, thus alienating the very persons he sought to influence. It would, further, pose the additional question of why Jesus, if He were so strong, had been unable to protect Himself in a Roman courtroom. The second task, therefore, facing Mark, was to show that not only was Jesus innocent--for that would make of His death an even greater problem— but he must also show that here too Jesus was in charge, and that the death was a plaoe where Jesus once more was fully in command. Mark therefore makes it clear that knowledge of im pending death was Jesus' long before He entered Jerusalem, Vhile far to the north, beyond the reach of the Jerusalem authorities, Jesus had announced His intention to die. The death on the cross was not an unexpected event, catching Jesus unprepared when He journeyed southward, but was in stead known to Him long before. And not only known to Him, but sought by Him. Sven as He earlier antagonized the Jewish authorities by defying their laws of fasting and claiming supremacy over the sabbath so hallowed by the Jew, so also when once in Jerusalem He goads them, forcing them into resistance. Ha Himself precipitated the final moment 101 by cleansing the temple. When the Jews sought to avoid a confrontation with Him during the time of the feast, Jesus made such an evasion impossible by publicly challenging the revered temple. They could no longer bach away from the confrontation they sought to avoid. Jesus had forced their hand. He died, not because He was weak and unable to pro tect Himself, victim of a tragic abortion of legal rights, but He died because He Himself had determined to die. Mark's second theme, then, of explaining how one so strong as He could die, has been dealt with— He died because He intended to die. But what was the purpose of that death? This is Mark's third theme. He puts the answer into the mouth of Jesus on the road to Jerusalem. The brothers, James and John, knowing that something climactic is soon to occur, expecting the kingdom soon to arrive, begin to demand power positions in the coming realm, one to sit at the right hand and the other at the left. Jesus chides them, and then the dialogue reaches its climax as Jesus insists that those who follow in His wake must live even as He lives— not for self but for others. The son of man has come not to be served but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many. There is the reason for dying, defined but undeveloped. He has come to pay a price, a A # The cost of freeing those in bondage, the ransom price of slaves, will 102 be the death of Jesus. He will die that men might live. It is better than one man should perish rather than that the entire people should disappear. The life of Jesus is to be Riven in service that others might have life.^^ These three themes are the keys demanded to unlock the meaning of the first gospel. Jesus is a strong man, one whom the Romans can admire. Jesus is the master of every situation in which He finds Himself, and this is especially true of His death. His death was not an unex pected accident but the execution of His own intentions. He died that others might live. A recognition of these three themes of Mark is also a recognition of Mark himself. This is no mere chronicler at work, snipping out and patch- 11 ft ing together unrelated incidents of occasional character. ° He was both a theologian and a literary master. He has left many questions unanswered— to whom is theAvr^ooi/ paid— but the unanswered questions are not to be allowed to ob scure the many affirmations. He has imposed a majestic meaning upon the facts at hand. Luke as well was a literary master. His powers of economy and understatement have been lauded by many and need no repeating here. His ability to sketch out a scene so graphically that it burns itself into the memory never to be forgotten is known to everyone who has ever read his works. Who, having read, can forget little Zacchaeus, the 103 Philippian jailer, the prodigal son, the good Samaritan? Who having read can wipe away the poignant farewell of a Paul at Ephesus, bidding goodbye to those whom he has loved and labored amongst for three years? ’ When they weep be cause they shall see his face no more, the sensitive reader finds his own eyes filming over with emotion. But, while Luke's prowess in the literary areas are of a level equal to that of Mark's, his theological motives were entirely of a different nature. Where Mark stresses the power of God active in Jesus, Luke stresses the love of God revealed in Jesus. The mighty acts are retained, but Luke supplements them with additional discourses which em phasize the condescending love of God. The sermon appears in embryonic form. Earlier unrecounted parables apoear. And the one unifying factor behind this new material is the fact of God's love. A young son is lured homeward by the memory of a loving father who says to his sons, all that he has is theirs, a forgiving father who prepares a feast, without a word of rebuke, for the wayward son come home. An example of compassion and concern, a despised foreigner setting aside ethnic rivalries and extending the hand of friendship to an injured man, is held up as exemplar, and those about Jesus are told to go and do likewise. Des pised little Zacchaeus, dwarfish in stature, hated by pro fession, a man alone in the middle of a crowd, is called 10^- down from his absurd little perch in the leaves of a tree, and his home is graced by the presence of Jesus. Luke shows this love of Jesus reaching out for all men. Other harsher lines known from contemporary gospels, limiting the love of Jesus to but one race and class, dis appear in the writings of Luke. An ethnic orientation, which would claim that Jesus is the son of Abraham and of David alone, has no place in the geneology which Luke gives, a geneology which instead claims Jesus as the son of Adara-- the new Adam, the head of a redeemed humanity which as one united family now falls under the watchful eye of the Father. Luke stresses the love of Cod for all men. At a time when the church was open to the charge of being an in ferior group, composed of slaves and rabble, devoid of an intelligensia, Luke is able to transform an accusation of inferiority into an affirmation of divine concern. Cer tainly many of Jesus' followers were from far down the social scale, but this, rather than indicating an intrinsic inferiority of the axioms of Jesus, proved instead that Cod could lift up even the lost into a new dimension of ex- hiliratiAg life. And when He did so lift up and restore the lost, there was great rejoicing in heaven. Luke is a gospel for all men, not for Romans alone. And a gospel for women as well. This is a point not to be quickly passed over in the masculine society of long ago. In a day 105 when a rabbi could render unto God his heartfelt thanks that he was not born a woman, in a day when women were bar tered for and sold like household furniture, Luke insists that this love of Sod reaches out for women as well. Thus in Luke we find many different women playing key roles. Not only is there Mary and the other Mary, but Elizabeth, Anna the prophetess, and Martha as well crowd before us. This is not the work of a mere chronicler, snipping out and patching together unrelated incidents of occasional character. This is the work of a theologian, rearranging and ordering that which he has received, fusing his many scattered and fragmentary sources into a cohesive whole which hangs together, dominated by a mighty theme, the love of God, He has left many questions unanswered, such as how this love of God becomes effective, and in what way the death of Jesus can be seen as vicariously effective for others,^? But the unanswered questions are not to be per mitted to obscure the many affirmations. He has imposed a majestic meaning upon the facts at hand. Matthew too remains a closed book unless and until we read it not as factual raw material but as a literary and theological creation. Whereas the other writers stressed the downward arrow, the activity of (God, His intevening love and power, Matthew stresses the upward arrow, the response of man, the obligations of discipleship. He 106 writes not for conversion but for instruction, seeking to make clear to a Jewish audience the costs involved and the obligations inherent in following Jesus. That he is writing to Jews appears to be self-evident and that he is writing as a churchman to those already in The Way also appears to be self-evident. Not only does he alone, positively, recognize the existence of the church, but he also, negatively, insists that the church has re placed Israel as the place where men are to meet God. No other explanation can be given to those fearful seven woes which are hurled upon the Jewish leaders. They searched in Moses, seeking therein to find life, but they have failed to recognize that the true light which illuminates the world is the New Moses, the one able to stand on a latter day mount like unto Sinai, powerfully proclaiming that He and not Moses is to be heard. This is the first basic fact we must have before us. This literary-theological independence and genius of the synoptic writers has at last, in our own day, begun to re ceive the attention it deserves. No longer is it possible to approach the synoptic narratives as if they were but a single synoptic narrative. The tendency of earlier scholars to bundle them all together Into one faceless homogeneous mass, undifferentiated except in point of detail, is no longer possible. One would dare to hope that, in the new climate, it is no longer possible to write a book entitled The History of the Synoptic Tradition, the very title of which seems to pass over hurriedly and wrongly the great differences of each of these writersl^^One would dare to hope that the concentration upon the likenesses alone which exist between these gospels, the core of the synoptic prob lem, has now been fully enough faced to allow us to turn with growing appreciation and insight to the unique and original contributions of these early writers. They, as well as John, were theologians and literary masters. Thus, it is no longer possible to artificially distinguish be tween John and the synoptic writers, making of John a theologian concerned with meaning while reducing the others to chroniclers. There is no qualitative distinction be tween them. They are, all four, dedicated to the meaning of the facts, and not to the facts alone. The second basic fact to be noted is this. Colling- wood and the historians, Bultmann and the theologians, were not the first to discover that there is an inner and an outer side to history, the first to discover that the db-- 119 jective facts demand subjective involvement. The problem of hermeneutics may be stressed in our time, but it is not new in our day. The earliest evangelists. Hark, Luke, and the unknown man called Matthew, recognized with profound insight that facts were meaningless and irrelevant until 108 the existential meaning of those facts could be compre hended. They knew as well as the modern scholar that one could prove beyond a shadow of reasonable doubt that Jesus was a true human being who had lived at a given time and died in a given place. They lived at a time when there were eye-witnesses available who could testify that Jesus indeed had been crucified under Pontius Pilate. The fact of Jesus' life was exactly that— a fact which could be em pirically verified by anyone willing to make the effort. But they also knew that this historical Jesus, as an historical figure alone, meant nothing at all. What was proven when it had been verified that Jesus had truly lived and truly died? Nothing, other than that a Jewish peasant, son of Joseph, raised in Nazareth, had met an un timely end in a Roman courtroom. It was only when one went on from there to say that this Joseph's son was more than son of Joseph, He was Son of Sod; it was only when one went on to say that this death was no untimely accident but was instead the will of God putting Jesus to death for man's sins and raising Jesus again for man's salvation; it was only when these things were said that the life of Jesus be gan to assume any significance at all. And these latter things were not historically verifiable objective data. They were instead confessions of faith only to be apprehen ded in faith. It was the meaning of the event, and not the 109 event itself, which was of the first importance. This is not to deny the historicity of the event. These men wrote lives of Jesus, not theological abstracts. They knew that the meaning was embedded in the event and not to be separ ated from the historical fact. History could not be aban doned. But it is to say that they recognized with extra ordinary perceptivity that, while the meaning grew out of the event, the meaning and not the event itself is what 120 charged the life of Jesus with eternal significance. Therefore they did not hesitate to alter, expand, or ignore certain factual material, for such was not their primary concern. If our generation and those preceding us have been able to see differences existing between the synoptics, surely it is beyond the realm of reason to deny that the synoptic writers themselves failed to see their differences. Even if Luke had not read Matthew, or Matthew Luke, both had read Mark. And still they differ from Mark! Mark shows us the blind man at Jericho being healed as Jesus is leaving Jericho (Mark lOt^f). Luke l8s35f in sists that the healing took place as Jesus was arriving at Jericho. Matt.20:29f agrees with Mark, placing the healing after Jesus had left Jericho, but Matthew insists that two men, not one, were healed that day. This fact alone (other examples could be called forth) is sufficient to make clear the inescapable fact that these early writers were not 110 concerned about casual detail. With Marie lying in front of them, both Matthew and Luke could contradict Mark with out hesitation. They could do this only because they knew that the bare fact in itself was subordinate to the theo logical meaning of the event--that Jesus was able to open blind eyes, Jesus was the light of the world. This realization that the fact was subordinate to the meaning lad even the earliest evangelists into the habit of deliberately altering the facts if and when such an alter ation would lead to a more cogent clarification of the meaning the evangelist was striving to communicate. The classic example of this is, of course, Matthew*s sermon on the mount. It is not simply found in the fact that the en tire monologue is artificial, the sermon perhaps being Matthew*s own placing together of earlier independent pericopes. It is found in the Matthean setting of the sermon as well. Not only does Matthew compose the sermon. He also places it on a mountain. There can be little doubt that the correct locale for the original discourse (far shorter than Matthew presents it) was on a level plain (Luke 6:17)^ perhaps on the shore of the lake of Jennesaret (Luke 5*1). Why does Matthew both enlarge the sermon and put it in a new locale? The answer is found in the purpose and audience of Matthew, facts we have already noted. He was writing to Jews, Jews in the church, and he was at the 111 same time seeking to vindicate the church, showing that Christianity had replaced Judaism, and to make clear the cost of discipleship. The demands of discipleship are what account for the expanded form of the sermon, and the claim that Jesus has replaced Moses, the church has replaced the synagogue, is what accounts for the new locale, Cod had once spoken to Israel on the mount, Sinai. It had once been said, earlier, by Cod speaking through Moses, that men should not kill. But now Cod. speaking to the new Israel, through Jesus the New Moses, completes and replaces that earlier revelation. Hence the repeated refrain, "it was said of old . . . but I say unto you," Jesus is the New Moses, the lawgiver. The Jews addressed are to know that Jesus is not only the son of Abraham and of David (Matt. 1:1), not only the fulfillment of the words of the prophets (Matt.1:22, 2:5» 2:15, 2:17 id* . but He is the New Moses as well. Thus He must stand on a mountain even as did the first Moses. That this parallel with Moses might not be missed, Matthew adds in other material paralleling Jesus' life with that of Moses, such as the slaughter of the innocents. This, then, is the second basic fact facing us, namely, that John had literary predecessors who were will ing and able to change the raw factual material which they received in order to better bring out the sense they sought 112 to communicate. There is no qualitative distinction at this point between John and the synoptic writers. Not only were all of them theologians as opposed to mere chroniclers, but all of them felt free to omit, alter, and expand the bundle of historical facts lying in front of them if by so doing the inner meaning of those significant days of Jesus could better emerge. The third basic fact is this. While we are at last in a position to recognize that Clement's remark calling John a theologian can no longer be taken in the onesided way it once was, we cannot allow the pendulum to swing too far in the opnosite direction, obscuring the basic truth engrained into Clement's insistence that John was a "sDiritual" writer whereas the earlier writers -were not. A new appreciation of the qualitative oneness existing be tween John and the synootics is not to dim the fact that a quantitative distinction remains— a quantitative difference so vast and far reaching as to approach anew the boundaries of qualitative distinction. 'What the synoptic writers did occasionally, John does regularly. What was earlier an exception becomes for John a general modus operand!. In deed, he alone of all the evangelists candidly confesses that he has not made any strenuous effort to be exhaustive or even representative in his presentation of the evidence. He has been selective and perhaps even arbitrary, for he is 113 writing in the interests of internal apprehension, for existential confrontation, that men might believe, and believing,.have life in Christ's name. We were continually reminded in the course of our earlier examination of the evidence that John is able to recall historical sequences with greater exactitude than the men before him. But we were also continually reminded that even when he does so, correcting what he recalls, he simultaneously obscures the original sequence. His aim throughout is theological, not historical. He is not a chronicler of raw information. He could and did refer his readers to another work, by the use of a well chosen word, if all that was desired by that reader was factual infor mation. His primary concern was the inner meaning, and he is convinced that he knows that inner meaning so well that often he can dispense with the facts entirely, presenting the meaning alone. Or, to arrive at the same conclusion by another avenue of argument, ha is often convinced that that inner meaning is actually caraoflauged by the facts in which it is embodied in the earlier writings, thus to dis pense with the facts and to concentrate on the meaning alone is not simply a possibility for him but a vital necessity. We are now ready to turn to specific instances of John at work. One could concentrate on a line of develop- 1 la ment which indicates that John does not contradict synoptic accounts but rather unfolds them. For examole, if there is any truth in our claim that Matthew is seeking to show Jesus as the new lawgiver replacing Moses, Jesus being the final word of God whereas Moses was the first i/ord, then perhaos we have here the key to the proper comprehension of the title given to Jesus in the prologue, \6fos . No longer is it necessary to scour Stoic sources seeking to find via the avenues explored by the History of Religions school the backdrop which would make this strange name comprehensible. Instead, by this accounting, it is not a strange title at all, but rather a simple straight-line development growing out of the seed thought planted by Matthew. Or. in another direction, John's insistence that Jesus is the light of the world, claimed as being without parallel in the synoptics, suddenly does find a synoptic parallel, for if our earlier explanation is at all true (that the synoptic writers could be indifferent as to where or how many men were healed, one or two, before or after Jericho* because their basic interest was theological— to show Jesus as the one who opens blind eyes), then once more we are confronted by the fact that while John's terminology may be new, his thopght in calling Jesus the light of the world is but a straight-line extension of a synoptic idea. Or, yet another idea, if it is at all true that Jesus' re- 115 marks in Mark 10, addressed to the sons of Zebedee, are in fact demands for service even if it leads unto death, and if, further, this Markan claim be coupled with Luke's pri mary emphasis on love, then suddenly we see that such phrases as John 13*3*+ or 15*13 can no longer be taken as unique creations of the fourth evangelist, but must instead be seen merely as an amplification of and the flowering of a seed thought already present within the synoptic story. As said, one could concentrate on this line of argumentation, seeking to show how John does not alter or omit synoptic material nor does he introduce absolutely unique material, but rather he opens up thoughts already found before him. But to concentrate on this side of John would be to develop minor currents, ignoring the central stream* The basic fact is that the heart of the Johannine construction is found in those places where he definitely does alter and omit earlier synoptic stories, replacing than with his own unique creations. We turn now to examine in 1 21 detail several such instances. In the first place, there is the fact that John deliberately suppresses the story of Jesus' baptism. The reference in John 1:32 to the dove descending from heaven makes it clear that he knew, intimately, the story of the baptism. And yet, knowing the story, he refuses to tell it. In like manner, knowing the synoptics, he knew the 116 story of the virgin birth. Yet this too is suppressed, 1PP finding not even room for a passing reference. Why does he do this? Does his silence, coupled with his historically superior awareness of which we have earlier seen evidence, equal an indictment raised against the historicity of those events? Does he omit them because they are false? Or is there another motivation, of a theological nature, at work? The answer is to be found in the synoptics themselves. They were inadequate to their own ends. Their very telling of the story had rendered impossible a proper comprehension of what they were seeking to say.^3 Mark was writing to Romans seeking to impress them with the power of Jesus. 3ecause he did not want his audience to dwell on Jesus' humble beginnings when He was growing up like any ordinary Jewish lad, Mark had begun his gospel not at the beginning of Jesus' life but rather at the baptism. Further, he constructed that baptism scene in such a way that the claim of the first verse, that Jesus was the Son of God, might receive divine affirmation. As Jesus is being baptized, the heavenly voice affirms that Jesus is the Son of God, speaking in the second person. Mark has made his point, and the Son of God can now be challenged by the enemy of God, Satan, in the wilderness, and be easily rebuffed. But in the very making of his point, Mark has opened the door to serious misunderstanding. 117 It is possible to read into Mark an adoptionist theory. Not only does the heavenly voice speak to Jesus, implying that earlier He did not know that He was the Son of God, but this implication further seems verified in the fact that Mark had passed over all the earlier years. Why had those earlier years been ignored? Perhaps because there was no thing extraordinary about them. Earlier, Jesus was but a humble carpenter and nothing more. His supernatural status was not inherently His own from the beginning, but was a conferred status, beginning only as of the baptism. Indeed, Mark seems to have opened the door to two mis understandings , docetism as well as adoptionism. Due to the heavy brushstrokes of Mark, this adoption of Jesus by God can be considered to have been so sweeping that Jesus, as of His baptism, was no longer a man at all. It is true that theT*e remain in the Markan narrative sufficient disclaimers of that fact, but readers do not always read disclaimers, especially when they are laid alongside such sweeping affir mations. 'Was He not able to walk on the water and raise the dead? Did not even the demons themselves, those super natural powers with accented cunning, recognize in Him the holy one of God? Did not even the disciples finally arrive at that point where they wished to build a worship shrine to Him? These facts, in themselves, despite all disclaimers In the opposite direction, were sufficient to obliterate 118 any belief in the real humanity of Jesus. And thus we know from other literature that very early in the church there arose the twin heresies of adoptionism and docetism. For these Mark must be held responsible, for it was his con struction, entirely comprehensible in the light of the au- .dience addressed and the arguments put forth, which made such errors of understanding possible. 1 It is in this context that Matthew and Luke write. To correct a misreading of Mark, they add on the story of the early years deliberately passed over by Mark. They add the virgin birth n a r r a t i v e s . 1^!? In those narratives, Luke and Matthew have seized upon the inadequacies of Mark and have sought to shut the door to incipient heresies. The virgin birth is a denial of adoptionism, an insistence that Jesus did not become the Son of God at the Jordan. He did not because He could not, for from the very beginning, from the moment of His conception, He was the Son of God sired by the Holy Spirit. No longer, when Mark is read in con junction with either Matthew or Luke, would it be possible to argue convincingly that it was at the baptism that Jesus became divine. Further, in an insufficiently noted way, Matthew and Luke shut the door on the other error as well, and the additional narratives emphasize in a profounder way than Mark had the true humanity of Jesus. It is true that they 119 are virgin birth stories, but it is also true that they are virgin birth stories. The manner of Jesus' conception was supernatural, but He was born like any other child. Indeed, He was born in even humbler circumstances than most Jewish infants, for His parents were far from home ana He first breathed in a manure strewn cattlepen. He was circumcized on the eighth day like any normal Jewish boy. Like any other Jewish child. He grew in physical stature and His mentality unfolded. He was no Jod in disguise, but was true man. He knew what it was to be tempted and afraid. Matthew gives us the most extended account of the tempting of Jesus in the wilderness, showing us Jesus wrestling with doubt, and Luke (in at least some manuscripts) tells us of Jesus sweating blood later in His life. The virgin birth stories, then, are not to be dis missed as the encrustations of later legend making. They were spawned by the urgent theological necessity of contra dicting the twin errors of adoptionism and docetism. The origin of these stories is not to be found in man's innate desire to magnify his heroes, nor in the imitative powers of the early church which had read and been impressed by pagan tales of divine and human matings. Those who would make such a claim are confronted not only by the fact that there is no proven literary connection uniting the gospel record with pagan mythology, but by the further fact that 120 the differences between the virgin birth stories and pagan mythology are greater than the claimed likenesses. Those who have read the lewd and lascivious details of pagan mythology, and then have compared those matings to the pristine purity of Matthew and Luke's account, can only be struck by the differences, not the likenesses. These stories, rather than being products of literary plagiarism, were instead formed in the crucible of theological contro versy. The prime purpose was to end the dangerously mis leading misreading of Mark. Two other points must be noted. Firstly, as note how different is the story of Matthew and Luke from that in Mark we must also note that the latter two writers were con cerned with the same truth Mark sought to communicate. Matthew and Luke too were convinced, whatever else may be said of His person, that Jesus was the divine redeemer sent of Sod to rescue a fallen world. Mark had described war fare of a cosmic dimension, Jesus coming to bind the strong man and set at liberty the prisoners. Mark's theme was that of a new creation, all things fallen being made new. Heaven and earth would pass away and be replaced by a new cleansed cosmos. And the entry of Jesus into the human scene was the beginning of that divine drama. Precisely that same note races through Matthew and Luke. They too are convinced that something marvelous is taking place, something of cosmic proportions. The Spirit of Sod has 121 entered anew into human history, and the consequences are catastrophic and impressive. V/hen Jesus is born a star stands still, wise men journey from afar, evil forces re act and innocent babes are slaughtered. There is attack and counterattack. The cosmos is about to be restored and the usurping powers strike back. But strike back as they will, the fact remains that the Holy Spirit of Sod is once more present making cosmos out of chaos. It is this stress upon the remaking of the world, the entry of the Spirit, ivhich lies engrained in the substance of all three of the synoptics and which is necessary to bring out their sense. It is for this reason that the birth of Jesus is surrounded by so many omens and portents. The accompanying signs sur rounding that birth are not attempts to glorify Jesus alone but to emphasise the antry of the Spirit, producing life 1 26 where earlier there was sterility and barrenness. If the stories were added merely to accentuate the person of Jesus alone, the evangelists were working against themselves, for an objective reading of Luke 1s36 can lead to no other con clusion than that Jesus was not the only one miraculously conceived— so was the Baptist. Elizabeth is termed, in a double way, barren. She is in her old age, and she is called barren, and yet she who is sterile is now fruitful. Angels can sing from the heavens and cattle stand super- naturally silent because the Spirit of old, the life- 122 creating order-bestowing power seen in the Genesis story, has returned to earth and is bringing peace and joy to men of good will, Matthew, Mark, and Luke, despite their vary ing forms, are in content the same on this critical point. The second point to be noted is that though Matthew and Luke did much, they did not do enough. They failed to crush either heresy which they set out to attack. In the first place, they did not render impossible an adoptionist Christology. They merely pushed it back one step. Nov/, while it could no longer be argued that Jesus became divine at the baptism, it could still be maintained that His divinity was datable, and that a specific moment in time saw Him become God. The only difference v/as that that specific moment took place not in the Jordan waters, but at Bethlehem. The basic problem remained. And docetism remained as well, for while it is true that Jesus was circumcized as would be any normal Jewish infant, it v/as not at all normal that when the infant should appear an aged Simeon should burst out in praise, or that an aged prophetess Anna should thank God for the coming redemption of Israel. While it is true that Jesus increased in wisdom and stature as would any normal child, no normal child would be able to confound the elders of the law when only twelve years of age. It Is in this context, in the face of problems not solved but rather compounded by the earlier writers, that 123 John writes. The baptism and after it the virgin birth were vehicles used to stress the divinity of Jesus, but those vehicles had broken down, leaving the church with the specter of adoptionism. John thus rejects both of the events, deliberately suppressing them, concentrating in- 1 27 stead on the meaning they sought, but failed, to give. ( Ke ends forever even the possibility of an adootionist Christology by insisting in his opening words that o A o j o s , k*L o \ o g a s r f r rrf>o$ t o v 0 € o v ^ K dC l G e o s ® K o f o s ?^Thus, taking his cue from Mark (who also, in a detail not to be overlooked, also began his gospel with the word 17) John also, in his opening verse, makes clear just who Jesus is. Then, again, exactly as does Mark, John reaches his climax when a later witness affirms the truth of the opening verse. Thomas, in John 20:28, says o yu .00 Aotc o & £os . The in tention, then, and even the style of writing, including both the opening word, the theme of Jesus' divinity, and the later confirmation of that divinity by an onlooker, can thus be seen to be identical in John with what we see in Mark. The difference is that John, by suppressing Mark's baptism story and Matthew and Luke's virgin birth stories, has made clear and unmistakable the proper meaning of those earlier stories. He has corrected away from his tory, discarding events, in order to bring out more fully the theological meaning of those events. 12b Evan as ha attacked adoptionism, he attacked docetism. The concrete, almost coarse wording of insisting that this divine word became n must be weighed and not set apart as a casual aside. John does nothing casually. The entire gospel is a tightly knit circular argument, in creasing in intensity. Two additional points must be made. It ought be clear that John has successfully rebutted an adoptionist Christology. Jesus was not divine from a datable moment onward, but rather from the primeval beginning, before the world came into being, He was God. Indeed, when the world did come into being it was through Him and nothing which was made was made apart from Him. No longer could an adoptionist theory be imposed upon the writings of the church. But whether he was successful in rebutting docetism is a point we shall examine later. That he in tended to do so is quite clear, for this gospel alone shows Jesus wearied from a long journey, asking for water, and weeping at the loss of a friend. But intention is one thing, and accomplishment quite another. The second fact to be noted is that John not only clarifies the original intention of the synoptics in affirming the divinity of Jesus, but he also makes far clearer than they had the theme of Jesus being the new creation's beginning. Not only does the opening of John recall the Markan opening, but it forcefully recalls the 125 Genesis story as well.12^ »in the beginning God created the heavens and earth" is echoed by John's words. That this is not the child of agile exegesis is confirmed in the fact that John moves on in the next two verses to explicit statements about the creation* If the synoptics insisted implicitly that the entry of Jesus meant the restoration of God's rule and the end of the tyranny of usurping forces, John, makes such claims explicit. In the presence of Jesus the evil prince of this world is already judged and cast down (John 12:31, 16:11). A new era has begun. Jesus is the commencement of the new creation, and the days yearned for by the prophets when the mountains would run with wine (Amos 9*13) are accomplished in Jesus (John 2:1-11). John's omission of the transfiguration scene and the agony at Gethsemane can be understood in the same manner. They deal with the same problem, Christology. And they pose the same difficulty, namely, the synoptic account was too tied to a specific event to allow its meaning to be seen. Thus John rejects the event, accenting the meaning. The transfiguration scene stands within that complex of significant events associated with Caesarea Philippi. Its purpose is quite clear— to declare the glory of Jesus. We have already argued earlier that the transfiguration scene, in which the disciples saw Jesus in robes of burning white and heard the heavenly voice declaring Him to be Son, 126 preceded the confession of Peter. Such an assumption is necessary to make sense of Jesus1 phrase in Matt.l6:17, that Peter's knowledge of Jesus' person was given of Sod. Caesarea Philippi is the fulcrum of the Markan story, the pivotal point around which the entire gospel rotates. It has been claimed that there, at Caesarea Philippi, Jesus discovers that He must die, thus, only from that moment on do the predictions of the passion appear. Whether the claim is true (and the prima facie evidence does seem to support such a view), there can be no doubt that Caesarea is most certainly a turning point for the disciples, If not for Jesus. Sarlier, they know that Jesus is a mighty figure (Mark U-iVl), but that is all that they know. Not yet do they know Him as the Son of God. But the trans figuration scene reveals that glory to them, and enables Peter to make his confession of Jesus as the Christ. Then, when they at last know who Jesus is, Jesus can share with them what He must do. (This sequence of events is clear in Matt.16, the confession of Peter in verse 15 being followed six verses later by Jesus' statement of intent). The transfiguration scene, then, in the synoptics, is an attempt to summarize in one event the glory of Jesus, a glorious event which opens the eyes of His followers. But precisely there is the danger. By summarizing the glory of Jesus in one event, the synoptics opened the 127 door to misunderstand ing, implying that the glory of Jesus was confined to that one event. Then, at that time and at no other, was His glory seen, John sees this danger, re jects the event, and insists that the glory of Jesus was a constant reality, seen throughout His life, both at the out set of the ministry (or, even more precisely, from the moment of His incarnation, K e n , o \ o g o s <reip^ €ft£V£T~o , . . KaL <fofU\r oiuroUj J 6 f < x r N . / Ct s f fo v 'o ^ B v o Z s TTccpoL 7Teirp>os ^ J o h n 1:14-. The men tion of Jesus as the "only begotten" is sufficiently reminiscent of the voice at the transfiguration to justify the comparison), and at the end of the ministry as well, for the word used to describe Jesus' crucifixion, (John 3*1^* 8:28, 12:32 and 12:3*+), means to lift up in the symbolic sense of exaltation. Thus John, once more, has sought to say the same thing as the synoptics, albeit in a different manner. They had identified the glory of Jesus with a single event, overly restricting it. John also Insists upon the glory of Jesus, but by setting aside the transfiguration scene he makes it clear that Jesus was constantly reflecting the glory of (Jodi^Precisely the same truth, in the opposite direction, lies behind John's omission of the G-ethsemane agony. That synoptic scene stressed Jesus' subordination to the Father, His humility, His obedience to the will of the Father (Mark 1^:36). But 128 again, this linking of the humility and the subordination of Jesus to a sioecific event carried with it an overly re strictive note, implying that only in that event (and even then, only unwillingly sol) was Jesus subordinated to the Father. Thus John rejects the event and concentrates on the truth it contained, making that truth not an occasional thing but a constantly repeated theme. Jesus is regularly shown in this gospel as accomplishing only the will of the Father, and not His own will (John 5;30* 6:38 et al). Before proceeding any further it ought be noted that these are not the only reasons as to why John suppresses the transfiguration and the Jethsemane scenes. Presuming upon evidence to be given later, we can say that John is a complex work of theological art, and it is this complexity of his theology (the fact that he deals with the same event in more than one way) which accounts for the circular or spiral movement of the gospel itself. Often he develops a theme, but only partially, setting that theme aside only to return to it later. This break in his development is one of the key reasons that theories of dislocation were so popular in an earlier generation. But these breaks are due not to dislocation but to theological motivation. H« sees the same event from many different sides, and often the second or third side (or meaning) cannot be made clear, after the first is given, until further ground has been 129 covered. Thus he sets aside the thought being dealt with, pursues his own circular style, much like an ascending staircase, and then when that new material has been added due to the new height and new perspective attained, he is able once more to return to his earlier theme, from an altered angle. Later, we shall see that the transfiguration must be omitted for reasons far more complex than those al ready noted. It must be set aside because it is not only a revelation of Jesus* glory restrictively tied to an event, but it is a revelation of Jesus* glory given both too early and too late. Too early: it is on the cross that the true glory of Jesus is seen, and not on some barren hillside of northern Galilee. The cross is the climax of Jesus' life for John, the pivotal point around which all else swings, and not Caesarea Philippi. Too late: John idealizes the disciples for missionary purposes, seeking to show that the church from the outset was missionary minded. Thus he shows the disciples, already in their hour of call, both seeing Jesus' glory (John 1:1 *+), and also engaging in missionary activity (John 1 :Vl , 1 +5)* The Gethseraane scene also has additional activities latent in it beyond the fact that it overly restricted the humility of Jesus, tying it to a single event. It also implied that Jesus was not will ing to die, shrinking back from the cup, and only reluct antly resigning Himself to His fate. Such a view was im 130 possible for John to endorse, and for that reason too the Crethsemane scene had to be excised. These thoughts will be dealt with in depth only when we have covered more ground, ascended to a greater height, and are able to see the material from a new perspective. To comment on John is to be obliged to follow John’s own pattern. But already our immediate purpose has been served, for we are able to see in at least one sense why John must alter the synoptics, omitting events vital to them— but not really omitting, but instead transforming the manner of presentation, preserving the content. Thus far we have limited ourselves to an examination of synoptic events which John has omitted. We turn now to the discussion of an event which he has added, the nedilavium of chapter thirteen. This too, though it is in the opposite direction (being an addition, not an omission) is characterized by the same purpose we have .lust seen at work, namely, to make clearer to the reader of the synoptic gospels a truth lying in those gospels but obscured by the manner in which it was presented. Further, it too, in the ultimate sense, is linked to an omission. Mark 10, as we have noted, included a demand from the sons of Zebedee— that they might sit at Jesus' right and left hands in the coming kingdom. This request is denied by Jesus, and He tells them that they are instead to seek roles of service even as 131 does He. The difficulty with Mark 10 is that it too is re strictive? it makes a demand for service only upon the sons of Zebedee. The reader of the narrative can examine it in a detached, objective manner, not becoming himself involved. The demand for discipleship seems to be confined to those two, James and John, alone. John recognizes this danger. He therefore supnresses that story and tells in stead of Jesus washing the feet of the disciples— of all the disciples, even the one who betrayed Him. All of the disciples, every follower of Jesus, without exception, is reminded of the cost of discioleship and the obligations inherent in following Jesus. John is sometimes subtle, but not always. In this is one of those times when he is not. The footwashing scene closes with the explicit words, put in the mouth of Jesus, demanding that the act be seen as an example for all (John 13•117)J , 32Nd longer is it possible to read Jesus' demands and come to the conclusion that the call to service is limited to a few. That the footwashing scene is but a commentary upon the meaning, not the form, of Mark 10 seems verified in the striking correspondence of ideas. The A O 'r p o v 0f Mark 10:^5 is a term out of the slave market, the purchase price or ransom cost of emancipation. Precisely this allusion to slavery reappears in the Johannine story as Jesus girds Himself about with a towel, the action of a slave]^^Again, the 132 same qualifying note as made earlier must be repeated, that is, this interpretation of the event does not exhaust the meaning of the event, for the footwashing scene does not stand alone. It replaces the last supper's synoptic eucharistic discourses. Why John chose to suppress them, or better, transfer them elsewhere, substituting this scene, is a problem with which we will deal later. This same general truth,namely, that in the synoptics an event is told in such a way that the element of respon sibility resting upon each follower of Jesus is obscured, the reader being able to road and examine an event dis passionately and objectively without himself getting In volved, Is what lies behind suppression of the stories of the demoniacs. The miracles as a block: pose many problems. Their enormous number alone is sufficient to create the false impression that Jesus was but a worker of wonders, a source of amusement synoptic presentation of the miracles Is also inadequate in that the political Im plications of those miracles is never drawn out, and all three synoptics fail to make us aware of the excitement those mighty deeds must have created in the minds of a captive populace laboring under the heavy boot of Rome. Surely the tales of Jesus' acts, His ability to still the storms, raise the dead, and heal the sick must have created the conviction in the minds of many that here was the man 133 able to throw off the curse of Caesar and restore the em pire of David, for did He not apparently have the power of dod running through Him? It is this conviction that Jesus would be able to liberate the Jews and drive out the in vaders which, on the one hand, accounts for the tumultuous welcome Jesus receives when He comes to the city, and, on the other hand, adequately explains the enormous change in that Jewish audience. When they understand, at last, that Jesus' kingdom is not of this world and that He will not fight of political independence, those who enthusiastically welcomed Him scream out for His crucifixion. But we read of none of this political undercurrent in the synoptics. It remained for John to draw it out. The synoptics are in adequate in their presentation of the miracles. Also, the very number of those miracles is self-defeating in another direction, for the synoptics do not arrange the miracles in ascending order. They all seem to be on the same level, and the synoptic reader remains unable to see that the mightiest act of all is Jesus' supremacy over death. It remains for John to accent this ascending order, putting the raising of Lazarus last. Of all these things we shall be obliged to speak in detail later. For the moment, we concentrate on only one aspect of the miracles, namely, their failure to demand personal involvement in their synoptic setting. This is why John, in his careful paring 13^ down of the miracles, reducing their total number to a symbolic seven, ignores entirely that one form of miracle which statistically dominates the synoptics, the exorcisms. Always, in the synoptics, demon possession is a 1 metaphysical fact and not an existential one. yThe possessed person has been overwhelmed by forces he was un able to resist. Jesus looks upon demon possessed people not as supremely evil but as supremely unfortunate. It is through no fault of their own that these people languish in bondage. Human responsibility is denied. The observer of an exorcism can see tha act with no personal pondering, no self-examination. John will not permit such a sidestepping of personal responsibility. One cannot stand in the presence of Jesus dispassionately. Either one is for Him or one is against Him, but never is one simply caught, helplessly, in the cogs of a cosmic machine. The note of existential involvement is stressed by John. Thus on the one hand he suppresses entirely the physical fact of demon possession, and on the other hand takes up its religious aspect, insisting that demon possession is nothing but faithlessness. To be under the powers of darkness does not involve metaphysical bondage but religious rebellion. This note is sounded in an anticipatory way in John 3:1** (and even before that in 1:11), but it reaches its climax in the discussions of the eighth chapter. Here (8:¥+), the Jews 135 are flatly called sons of their father the devil. They are the true demon possessed, for to be a child of the devil and in bondage to powers of darkness does not mean to roll helplessly on the ground foaming at the mouth, nor to beat oneself with a chain. It means instead to turn one's back on Jesus. How can they, the Jews, fail to understand Him? Because they have rejected His word, refusing to believe (8:^3). They have heard the truth, and they have not be lieved (8:^6). John has internalized and presented relig iously or psychologically what the synoptics had presented externally and metaphysicallyJ^^Et will be noted that John here not only seems to be drawing out and enlarging a meaning latent in the synoptics, but he also seems to be simultaneously rejecting the synoptics, setting aside their cosmology. This is a point we will deal with later. In this, our preliminary statement of the problem of John and of the direction our proposed solution will take, we have seen several things which must be underscored. We have argued that John knew the synoptics, indeed, was so familiar with them that he does not even need to quote from them in full in order to call to mind their wording. And yet we have seen that he dared to differ from them, at times altering them so drastically that the result must have been jarring upon anyone reading his work. That jarring effect would perhaps be lessened by the realization that John was often not rejecting the thought of the synoptics but only their form, and he was rejecting that form only to heighten the meaning. That is, he remained true to basic synoptic theology. But then, in our last example, we also noted that he does not only elaborate upon synoptic ideas, but he also soundly rejects synoptic ideas, refusing to accept the earlier cosmology. In short, he holds himself superior to the treasured records of the church. Who could such a man be? Who is this writer who knows historical sequences more accurately than did the amanuensis of Peter himself? Who is this man able to correct toward history, making better sense out of the original record? Who is this man, even more impressive, who is able to correct away from history, fully convinced that he knows the meaning of Jesus' life even better than do the synoptic writers? By what right does he so act? The very direction which our proposed solution takes forces upon us a consideration of the al ready overworked and tired issues of authorship and authority. 137 REFERENCES TO PART ONE 1, Schmiedel argues for a synoptic ministry of only a few months duration (210:10), thus agreeing with Schweitzer who insists that "the harvest ripening upon earth is the last" (213:3&9). That Jesus discovered only at Caesarea Philippi He was to die seems confirmed by the T o r t 0f Matt. 16*21. Bultmann asks, however, in respect to these pre dictions of impending death, "can there by any doubt that they are all vaticinia ex eventu?" (^2:1,29). In this view he is joined by Bornkamm who also insists that Jesus went to Jerusalem not to die but to preach (28:1 5^i 2. G-uilding insists that (Galilee receives comparative ly little attention in John (113:3)» as does Hoskyns (121:252). G-ardner-Smith also notes that John, in oppo sition to the synoptics, sees Jesus as a man of the south (102:12,21), as does Schmiedel (210:12-13). See also Willemse's article (250). Meeks challenges the pre vailing view that the north is reduced in importance in his article (167). As to the length of the Johannine ministry, Schmiedel argues for two years (210:10). Hoskyns points out, however, that it might be longer than even three years if the evidence of Codices Vaticanus, Bezae, Alexandrinus, the Curetonian Syriac, and many others, supported by Origen, Chrysostom, and Epiphanius, which see in John 5*1“*+, a reference to yet another Passover, be accepted (121:263-6*+). Sanday, however, calls all patristic quotations "no toriously precarious," adopting an agnostic attitude on this question (201:1^8-^9). On the replacement of Caesarea Philippi and the temple cleansing by the raising of Lazarus, see Colwell-Titus (61:^6), Gardner-Smith (102:50), and Howard (123*1^1). Scott (217*223) and Drummond (89:58,Wf-*f5) ac cept the synoptic day and dating, whereas MacGregor (l62:xiii) prefers John*s, as does Sanday (201 :1 51-55) • Gardner-Smith simply stresses the differences as abso lute, without opting for one or the other (102:67), a procedure followed also by Schmiedel (210:118). Gardner-Smith labels the call of the disciples in John as "irreconcilable with the synoptic accounts," and discusses the altered roles of Andrew and Peter, noting also how John leaves no room for development in any of the disciples (102*6-8). Bacon also, in more detail, discusses the reduction of Peter, the new stress on Nathanael, and other major differences (11*11 5-16). Scott (217*57), Dodd (86*311), and Higgins (117:60) all refer to the idealization of the disci ples, they serving as types. It will be noted in passing that we have adopted Schweitzer's view as correct. He argues that the nar rative in Mark becomes coherent only when we assume that the transfiguration scene precedes, rather than follows, Peter's confession of faith (213:383)• See Brown (3*+*230) and Schmiedel (210:13-1?)* MacGregor (I62:xix), Schmiedel (210*35), and Scott (217*17-18) all refer to the Johannine Jesus as impassive, undergoing no alteration. Colwell-Titus note how the cross in John is foreseen from the outset (61:81), and Gardner-Smith says that "the whole gospel is a passion narrative" (102:*+2). Dodd (86*75), Higgins (117*6*+), and Schmiedel (210*29 stress the voluntary character of Jesus' death, He being in complete control of that event. Bultmann notes that in John Jesus does not suffer death but chooses it, not as passive victim but as active con queror (*+2*11,53), and Colwell-Titus note how the som- 1*+0 bar and apprehensive note of the synoptics is entirely absent, Jesus here being in complete charge (61:98, SU—S 5,10^—05). Gardner-Smith insists that it is this desire to show Jesus as in sovereign control which ac counts for the suppression of the synoptic story D f Simon of Gyrene aiding Jesus with the cross (102:68). Both Bultmann (*+2:II,55) and Dodd (88:13) speak of the death of Jesus in John as the culmination of His work, the place where His exaltation is seen in pecul iar intensity. Gardner-Smith notes John's omission of the synoptics' darkness at midday and the reviling of the crowds, all unworthy of John's depiction of Jesus' death as a moment of supreme glory (102:70). Colwell- Titus call that death in John "an elevator that lifts Jesus to heaven," an event entirely removed from the category of tragedy (61:59,1OO-O^f). Davis too insists that the Jesus on the cross is an exalted figure de void of any human weaknesses (76:109). Bultmann insists that in John the cross entirely replaces the resurrection as the moment when Jesus was made Lord over all cosmic and demonic powers, and this is why the synoptic predictions of the resurrection are omitted as unnecessary (^-2:11,56). Davis insists that "the resurrection has no logical place in the Fourth Gospel" (76*111), and with this Gardner-Smith seems to agree (102:73)* Scott (217*307-08), and Bultmann (^2*11,57) note the loss of importance of Pentecost, the ascension, and the parousia. Colwell-Titus (61*^-8-50,163), Scott (217:215-16,302-03), Schmiedel (210:25^), and Bultmann (^-2:11,8,12,38,79,85) all insist that John has abandoned the futurist eschatology of the synoptics in favor of a realized eschatology, Bultmann insisting that all the futurist eschatological references are due to a redactor: "A later ecclesiastical redactor has here added 'on the last day, 1 'correcting' the text by introducing the traditional futuristic eschatology, just as he did in 6*39* 1 +0,Mf by inserting the refrain 'but' (or 'and') I will raise him up in the last day'. Even more jarring than these addi tions, if that be possible, is the inser tion of 5:28f., where in direct contradic tion of v .25 the 'hour1 of the resurrection is transferred from the present to the future." ( 1 +2:II,39). MacGregor speaks of Jesus' "majesty above all human standards" (l62:xvlii), Schmiedel of His lack of "any genuinely human feeling" (210*32), Scott of His "aloofness" which "does not participate in human weak ness" (217:163,166-68), while Colwell-Titus insist that "humility is alien. • • as is compassion'.* (61*71- 73). Scott stresses Jesus' omnipotence (215*38-39), Colwell-Titus His omniscience (61*76), and His control even over enemies such as Judas (61:83). On this, see also Schmiedel (210:30). Scott (218:38), Colwell-Titus (61:73), Schmiedel (210:28,31-32), and Bacon (11:208-09) all agree in denying any human motivation to Jesus, claiming that He does not pray for Himself but only that others may see His glory. They further claim that any appearance of compassion, such as in the encounter with the man blind from birth or at the death of Lazarus, are only appearances. Drummond (89:12), Schmiedel (210:36), and Dodd (85:13^-35 and 86:315) note the disappearance of para bolic speech, as does Bultmann (l+^sll,^). Bultmann insists that not only is the form of speech different, but also "the themes taken up are not those found in the synoptics" 0+2:11,^). He goes on to insist: "Jesus' words communicate no definable content at all except that they are words of HTQ j words of Cod. That is. they are words of life, words of Cod, not because of their content, but because of whose words they are." (^2:11,63) Bultmann goes on to insist that Jesus' "words are utterances about himself; for his word is iden tical with himself" (**2*11,63). Bultmann concludes: "Thus it turns out in the end that Jesus as the Re- vealer of Cod reveals nothing but that he is the Re- vealer" (1 +2:II,66). M. deGoedt (* 78:1 ^ 1 - 2), Howard (123s 255), and Scott (217sl +1 ,210) agree in language almost identical to Bultmann's that the entire content of Jesus' message is Jesus Himself. Schmiedel gives a statistical study of the uses of "my" and "I" in the synoptics and in John and, on this basis, likewise con cludes that Jesus Himself is the Johannine message, not the kingdom of Sod (210:37-^2). Both Barrett (13:l+6) and Colwell-Titus insist that John has an emphasis on the Spirit not found in the synoptics. "In St. Mark's Gospel some 209 verses out of a total of 666 deal di rectly or indirectlv with miracle (i. e. over 31 per cent). In the first ten chapters of the Gospel (i. e. omit ting the whole Passion narrative) 200 out of *+25 verses deal directly or in directly with miracle (i. e. about ^7 per cent)." (186:36) In contrast, Guilding notes that in John the miracles have only a supportive value" and the empha sis "is on Jesus as preacher" (113*1). So also Scott (217*171). The total suporession of acts of exorcism is re marked by both Bacon (11:330,332) and Schmiedel (210: 18), while Dodd notes that the thrust of the other miracles is altered, as for example In the feeding of the multitude where the "satisfaction of the people's hunger is relegated to a subordinate clause" (86:20**). Elsewhere, Dodd goes on to conclude that a miracle "is not in essence a miraculous act, but a significant one" because it "symbolizes eternal realities" (85*90). Bultmann too insists that the miracles in John are only "pictures, symbols" (**2: II,3-*f,M+). Hoskyns (121:62), Scott (218:16), and Schmiedel (210:95,101) agree. For an elaboration of these differences, and for enumeration of still others, see Colwell-Titus (61: 105), Dodd (86:151,162-70), and lardner-Smith (102: 71-72). Both Connick (62:160-61) and Colwell-Titus (61: 33-31 *-) have detailed lists of omissions, the latter being based on the list of omissions compiled by Brown in his article (31 *). Bernard insists that none of the gospels "pro fesses to give a complete account of the public minis try," thus, since none is complete, all are complemen tary, unless of course there are definite contradic tions, to which Bernard answers, "no such contradic tions can be alleged" (2**:civ). Dodd insists that the southern ministry is not to be set aside simply because it is not mentioned in Mark (86:2*+7), and MacCregor too insists that "doubt- less the Synoptic and the Johannine representations are not mutually exclusive" (162:siv). Dibelius prepared the way for Form Critical stud ies with his work on John the Baptist in 1911 (80), applying his convictions on an inclusive scale eight years later (81, now available in English as From Tradition to Gospel), a volume which appeared simul taneously with Karl Ludwig Schmidt's work (209)• When Bultraann’s volume (VI, now available in English as The History of the Synoptic Tradition). the third great proponent was on the scene and the lines of argument were clear. The basic assumptions of these pioneering works were that the Karkan framework was artificial, and that the accounts of Jesus existed originally as fragments, as independent and self-contained stories which were only later fitted together by the evangelists. While the movement has had its detractors (see Redlich's book, 183), its main lines have so thoroughly carried the day that an author can today simply state the con clusions of the school as established results. Thus, for example, Goguel is typical when he insists without further support that "it is now established that the plans of the four Gospels, that of the Synoptics as much as that of John, are artificial creations, designed to group together in- to a coherent whole traditions which formerly had an independent exist ence." (105*11,235). Basing himself on this view that the four gos pels all contain true facts artificially forced to gether, he feels free to select parts of each of the gospels in his own reconstruction of the ministry of Jesus. In effect, he harmonizes, constructing a min istry which has room for both Mark*s northern and John*s southern campaigns (105:H,252). This method of combining material from both the synoptics and John in the construction of a total ministry is followed by Vincent Taylor also (238:133). Barrett (13:37~38) and MacGregor (l62:xii) find hints in the synoptics of a southern ministry, as does Goguel (105:IT,23*+,2Vl ) • Long ago, however, Drummond examined all these synoptic hints and ruefully con cluded that "the symptoms of a hidden agreement . . . vanish on closer scrutiny" (89:22). Bernard, in turn, rejected Drummond*s view that the two accounts were irreconcilable (2U-:I,cv). On the other side, Sanday finds in John 7:^ a hint of a northern ministry, and proceeds to flatly insist that the two accounts are supplementary one to the other (201 :1LL—**5) • Renan, of course, is the clas- spokesman for such a view. For him, the key to the tension of Jesus* life was geographic; the warmth and greenery of the north, the "Oalilean springtime," made sense only against the harsh sterility of the south. The geographic differences were but a mirror of the attitudes of the areas. The frequent presence of Jesus in Jerusalem, locked in combat with the rulers there, was pivotal to his whole concept of the minis try. He was, therefore, obliged to defend the idea of both a southern and a northern ministry, which he did by adding an appendix to the thirteenth edition of his work (18* 0 , in which he argued that the historical in formation of John relating to a southern campaign could be accepted on a par with the synoptic information on a northern campaign— a view which earned for him the scorn of the critical scholars, even as his sentimen talizing of the life of Jesus had earlier won the scom of the conservative element. Dodd argues that Jesus and John were active at the same time (86:291). Sanday denies that there is no development in Jesus (201:162), and Hoskyns refuses to see the disciples in John as idealized (121:180). Goguel insists that even John reveals the view that Jesus '*did not state his Messiahship directly" (10?:II, ^06). Drummond has selected from John sixty short and 19. 20. 11+ 8 pregnant sayings similar in form to the synoptics (89* 18-22), a collection which has served as a quarry for later writers* Howard (123*21*+), MacGregor (l62*xvii), and Sanday (201*166). Scott accepts the difference in form but argues for a similarity of content (217*39). Freed's thesis is that John is but a "creative composition from ele ments of the Synoptics" (99*81). Dodd too, in Part II of his work, claims that much of John is "a homileti- cal treatment" of the synoptics (86*333). So also Higgins (117*63-71). This view is not new. It was argued for with remarkable vigor in the Jowett lecture series of Burkitt in 1906, most especially in lecture seven (50). On Matt.11*25-7, see Howard (123*219). On John 10*30-39, see Goguel (105* II,*+06-07) . Higgins claims that the sovereignty seen In John Is but a reflection of that seen in Mark (117*65). On the other hand, Barrett (13*77), Drummond (89**+ 23), and— most emphatically— Bultmann (*+ 2*II,*+0-*+ 3) insist on the true humanity of Jesus in John, Bultmann speak ing of Jesus (his italics) as "a definite human being In history," and proceeding from there to deny any omniscience to Jesus. Strachan (230*16*+), Barrett (13*6*+), and Sanday (201*170). Dodd, for example, agrees that in its attitude toward eschatology John differs most from the synop tics (85s7). See also Bultmann's view, Note 7 above, Goguel argues that Jesus went to Jerusalem to preach, not to die (105*11,^05). See also Bornkamm and Bultmann's view, Note 1 above. On many of these differences Barrett concludes: "It is impossible to harmonize the Johannine and syn optic narratives" (13*1 )• ", . • precisely where a theme of Jesus' synoptic preaching seems to lie before us— the accusation of breaking the Sab bath, ch. 5 and ch. 9— the difference is apparent. For here attention is not focused upon the question how far the Sabbath-commandment has validity for man (as in Kk. 2*23-3*6); rather, the au thority of Jesus as Son of God is being demonstrated." (^2: II,1 f). Bultmann, to be more exact, does not in fact deny Jesus' omniscience (Note 19 above), but insists that its presence in John is due to the "unconsidered adop tion of tradition" (U- 2:11,^3^ • Far more accurate is Scott's view which holds that Jesus is omniscient and omnipotent throughout this gospel (217*165-66). So also Higgins (117:6*0 and Schmiedel (210:156-57). Davis too insists that in John Jesus is "at no point explicitly human" (76:110-12). Barrett insists that "in John Jesus' sonship does indeed involve a meta physical relationship with the Father" (13:60), an ob servation important in the light of his attempt to affirm Jesus' humanity in John (Note 19 above). Schmiedel too speaks of Jesus as having a "like nature with -rod" (210:156-57) * One difference insisted on by many is that in the synoptics Jesus refuses to perform a miracle as a sign to aid in the formation of faith, whereas in John it is precisely that which is the purpose of the. miracles: Soott (217:268-69), MacSregor (l62:xvi), Schmiedel (210:21-2*+). Schmiedel goes on to add that another purpose of the Johannine miracles is not to aid the suffering but to glorify Jesus (210:32-33,38). Sanday argues that the failure of the synoptics to mention the raising of Lazarus does not mean that the event did not happen (201:171-72). Schmiedel is closer to the truth in arguing that the synoptic si lence indicates that the event probably never really took place (210:93)* Barrett (13!38~39) and Howard (123:138) both agree that the synoptic and Johannine accounts cannot be harmonized and a choice must be made, not only in respect to Lazarus but also as to the death day. T & v J X C aj& V v' r\ v E cr^d r a j If , y CX \ v Jot'Toi ort ToL cr fJ tkT t K < * . e V rots (ffektois 7 T p O T p * 7 r £ v T ' Q t S tT O rcCV f Y t J J p t f / U j V, WVZ\JfJ<XTL 6 t o $ o p r i & £ v T c L t TrvEujJ* n K ° V ffOL 7t(T*L £Od. v v Clement's words, preserved in Eusebius, H. E. VI.1V. Eusebius elsewhere writes: ’ 'They say that John, who had em ployed all his time in preaching the gos pel orally, finally proceeded to write for the following reason* The three gospels already mentioned (Matthew, Mark, Luke) having come into the hands of all, and into his own too, they say that he accepted them and bore witness to their truthfulness; but that there was lacking in them an account of the deeds done by Christ at the beginning of his ministry." H. E. III.2lt.7. As the context makes clear, the passage is part of a summary of arguments advanced by Proclus against Saius of Rome, Saius maintaining that to admit John to canonical standing would "set the gospels at variance with one another." Proclus answered along the lines of Eusebius' statement, namely, John was written not to impugn the truthfulness of the synoptic record but rather to supplement their reliable record. Schmiedel (210:51)S Scott (218:8-9), Drummond (89*16), Bernard (2*+:I,xcv-xcvi), and Bacon (10:336 and 11:113-1*+) all say that John knew and depended on all three synoptics. Stanton denies that John knew Luke and Matthew (225*21 *+-20), but Streeter gives evidence to the contrary (232:395-^26). See also Moffatt (169* 533) > Colwell (60:7-10), and Howard (123: 130) have similar views, as does Connick (62:160). An extended discussion can be found in Scott (217: 32-38,212). Bernard holds to the view that John's "new" mate rial is only- interpretive, not historical (21 *: I,xcv). So also Bacon (11:112) and Sanday (201*72) and also MacGregor (162:112). This paragraph is a summary of the first ninety pages of V/indisch's work (251). WIndisch1 s view is shared in the broad by Scott who too claims that John has no new facts but only puts into a new theological frame the already known facts (217:37)— a view which, as we shall see, has been strongly challenged. The impact of Gardner-Smith's work (102) is seen, for example, in the writings of Howard. . ‘ /hereas ear lier he assumed that John knew the synoptics (see Note 28 above), once Gardner-Smith*s work appeared he re versed himself, admitting that with a few minor pro visos Gardner-Smith had persuaded him (122:17*n.2)• J. A. T. Robinson too states his concurrence (191*96), and Higgins claims that he held to the inde pendence of John long before Gardner-Smith penned his book (117*12-13). Kummel, in an extended discussion, notes the names of the scholars who have admitted being in the debt of Gardner-Smith, though Kummel himself is not en tirely swayed, continuing to argue for some degree of literary dependence Whether Bultmann was affected by Gardner-Smith1s views, or came independently to similar conclusions, is a moot question. He simply states: "Whether John was acquainted with one or more of our synoptics is debated; at any rate, it cannot be proved with cer tainty that he was. Nevertheless, he is familiar with the tradition which was worked into shape in them." (^2:11,3). Noack, who elsewhere often disputes Bultmann, here agrees, writing that "it is doubtful whether John knew the synoptics" (1 7*+i85). Dodd begins mildly, conceding in the closing paragraphs of his earlier work on John that the prima facie evidence is that John is independent of the syn optics (85:^9). This statement includes an explicit reference to Gardner-Smith. He then opens his next work on John by once more paying homage to Gardner- Smith, and by insisting that he intends to pursue the latter1s thought (86:8). "The attention of critics has gen erally been concentrated on the points of agreement, and insufficient regard has been paid to the very important diver gences which are everywhere apparent." (102:88) We give some of the typical comments of Gardner- Smith in the following paragraphs: "• • . when we observe how widely the two accounts differ in other respects it seems hazardous to assume literary de pendence on the evidence of a single phrase." (102:26) "It is surprising in the highest degree that here, as elsewhere, critics should lay so much emphasis on a triv ial agreement between Mark and John which can easily be explained as due to the influence of oral tradition, and ignore almost entirely the heavy weight of evidence which goes to show that John was not familiar with the Markan account." (102*31) ". . • we must conclude either that St. John has treated the synoptic narrative with something like contempt, or that the tradition which he worked into his Gospel did not reach him in the same form as that which appears in either Matthew or Luke." (102:22-23) "Agreement between two documents can nearly always be explained as due to the use of a common source, whether oral or written; but if literary de pendence is assumed, it is extremely difficult to explain pointless contra dictions." (102**4-8) "Surely the simplest explanation is that the Fourth Gospel was written at a time when the acceptance of St. Mark's Gospel had not yet fixed his tradition on the church." (102*9) ". . . the outline of any written Gos pel was determined not only by the nat ural sequence of history, but also by the form of the Preaching of the Apostles and their immediate fol lowers." (102*89) "We have every reason to believe that the passion narrative took definite shape at an early period in the history of the Church, and therefore the evan gelist who produced a written account would be likely to follow roughly the accepted order." (102:5*+) Omissions in John of synoptic material are also ascribed to the fact that John did not know the syn optics (102:39). ". . . the differences between Matthew and John, but also the likenesses and differences between Matthew and Luke, and perhaps the variant readings in Matthew might be accounted for if we assumed that this saying circulated orally in variant forms." (86:337) Again and again Dodd states the view that the differences between all the gospels, and not just the ones between John and the synoptics, "seem to point to the kind of variation that arises within an oral tra dition, rather than conflation of sources" (86:81), and he repeats often his conviction that "there is nothing to suggest a literary dependence of our gospel on either of the others" (86:15*+), the points of con tact and the differences as well being due to an "un designed variation within oral tradition" (86:83-8L 0 . He further insists that there is not "the faintest evidence of literary derivation from any of the Syn optic Oospels" (86:221). In a statement which could well serve as a sum mary of his entire position, Dodd writes: ". . . it is highly probable that the Johannine writings and the Synoptic versions were drawn from the same reser- voir of tradition through independent channels.'1 (86:3^7) Further, Dodd (as did Gardner-Smith) claims that the order or sequence, at least of the sayings, was fixed by oral tradition (86:388-89). These conclusions, if correct at all, have im plications not only for the historicity of John but also for questions of date and authorship as well. See Gardner-Smith (102:92-93) and Dodd (86:^23). On the similarity of John's closing of the bread of life discourse with a reference to Judas, even as the synoptics close out the supper conversations with a reference to Judas, Gardner-Smith lamely concludes that this "may be, and probably is, quite accidental'1 (102:36). In discussing the resurrection appearances, he says that John knows "nothing of the fear of the disciples, which is emphasized by Luke" (102:82). That simply is not true. John 20:19 makes explicit reference to the fear of the disciples, and this is followed by gladness when they see Jesus— the exact sequence of Luke. Dodd is far more reserved, and at least concedes that there are a few places where literary relation ship seems possible, if not demanded (86:*+ 1,57> 101-03, 165-66,207-08). Dodd at least pauses to marvel at some of these unusual correspondences, remarking that "John agrees with Luke against the others that it was the right ear that suffered" (86:78), and elsewhere noting that the common Johannine-Markan reference to "grass in the area" is not the kind of detail likely to survive in oral tradition alone (86:203). Jardner-Smith, on the other hand, will concede nothing. Noting that the Johannine anointing scene includes "an impressive list" of remarkable common words and details, he proceeds to dismiss these not with logic but with sarcasm (102:^- 5-i * 8) • Compare Gardner-Smith1s claim for a sequence as already fixed in oral tradition (Note 3^ above), with his evaluation of the placing of the temple cleansing in John. He argues, here, in the opnosite direction, insisting that the sequence was not frozen by oral tradition (102:13). Dodd does not speak of the actual date of writing of John, but he does Insist that the Johannine tradi tion lying behind the written gospel was "formulated substantially" before A. D. 66, concluding therefore that, in light of its age, and in light of the fact that it was formulated in Palestine, it must be seen as on an historical par with the synoptics (86*150-51). Gardner-Smith is far more emphatic, insisting that John perhaps wrote his gospel even before Mark. 158 "If Matthew and Luke knew Mark, and John did not, there is prima facie evidence for putting the Fourth Gospel before the First and Third. Indeed, we might tentatively suggest that Mark and John were almost contemporaries." (102:95) * + 1 . See Gardner-Smith (102:35*56-57) and Dodd (86: 92,100-01) for examples of this minimizing procedure. b 2 . In addition to the scholars noted earlier (Note 28 above) who hold that John knew all the synoptic gos pels, one could add P. H. KcNeile (16M0 and R. H. Lightfoot (156) . Sparks (22*f) argues that John knew Mark and Luke, and Kummel agrees that John’s knowledge of Mark and Luke is "unmistakable," "indisputable" (1** 6:1 ¥*). Those who argue for John's knowledge of Mark alone include R. M. Grant (110 and 111) and E. K. Lee (152). Barrett's work will be cited later. For the mo ment, we concentrate instead on Hoskyns who wrote: "That the author of the Fourth Gos pel had the three synoptic gospels before him when he composed his gospel is most improbable, for his relationship to them is not that of an editor. But that he was familiar with the synoptic material, and even with its form, is certain. Yet it is perhaps even more important that he presumes this synoptic material to be less before the eyes of his readers than in their heads. He presumes, in fact, that it is in their hearts, so that he expects them to follow him when he moves round and round it, and when he alludes to it, and when he writes it down, and most particularly when he refashions it." (121:82) Again we quote Hoskyns, who begins by insisting: "The important question is not whether the Fourth Gospel depends upon oral tradi tion, or upon written documents, or upon both, but whether it is or is not a work existing in its own right, and whether it is or is not to be interpreted in dependently and by itself.i r (121:68) He later returns to this same idea: "the test that we must in the end apply to the Fourth Gospel, the test by which the Fourth Gospel stands or falls, is whether the Markan narrative becomes more intelligible after reading the Fourth Gospel." (121:133) Hoskyns' own conclusion is that Mark in fact does become more intelligible after reading John, and that John was never intended to be interpreted by itself. These are conclusions which we have made our own. For further listings see Hoskyns (121:70-72), Barrett (13:35“36), Bernard (2*+:I,xcvi). Some of the older commentaries have even more extensive listings* Lucke (160:19*1—98,2*fr1) and Westcott (2L f7*lxxxi-l:cxxv). More recently, the writings of E. K, Lee and R. M. Grant (Note * + 2 above) are valuable. Streeter argues that Jesus must have spoken in Aramaic, thus that one Greek version of what He said should include the vulgar word (suppressed in Matthew and Luke, but found in Mark) which then showed up independently in another entirely separate Greek version (John), is most unlikely (232*398). J. M. Creed (6*+) has perhaps the fullest listing in English of Luke-John parallels. Hoskyns too has a listing, introduced by his insistence that it is clear that often John is closer to Luke than to Mark (121* 77-79). Croguel, Streeter, and Howard also lay out Parallel passages. For a listing of Matthew-Luke parallels, see E. K. Lee (151)« H. F. D. Sparks argued for a clear con nection between John and Matthew (223*58-61), only to be challenged, expectedly, by Jardner-Smith*s respond ing article (103). Barrett (13*3^-35) • Bernard also lays great stress on the common order (2*+* I,xcviii). MacGregor (162*x), Bacon (11 **+13), Charnwood (58* 89), C. V/. F. Smith (220*1l +0-l f1), Drummond (89*15), Fritz Barth (18*16), and Hoskyns (121*59,70) all have extended discussions insisting that John is alluding to the synoptics and exoects to be followed in his allu sions by his readers. Evan Dodd concedes that in respect to the baptism of John, the evangelist seems to be referring to a tra dition ‘ 'which was known to the evangelist, or his readers, or both" (86*271). He seeks to solve the problem by falling back on his overworked and unproved belief in the existence of testimonia. Hoskyns insists that tha John the Baptist narratives are "almost unin telligible" unless the reader knows the synoptics (121: 69), Higgins (117=33). Hoskyns (121 :M-02-03). J. N. Sanders is willing to see a literary tie between John and Luke at this point also, but he presents the novel idea that Luke depended on John (205=35)* He then goes on to daring ly suggest that Lazarus was not only an historical figure but "the disciple whom Jesus loved"! It is Lazarus, then, who provides the link between John and Luke. Sanders admits, however, that the texts as they stand, do not fit his hypothesis. Undaunted, without manuscript evidence, he amends them, "this being a case where surgery is demanded" (205=39). Hoskyns (1211^32-33,515) and Howard (123:136-37). Both Cadbury (5^=331) and Easton (90:ix) argue for a view similar to that of Windisch, namely, John was written to supplant the synoptics, and is intended to be read alone. We must side, however, with Lightfoot who claims that John is a "riddle" if read in isolation (156=32). Even Windisch conceded that in at least a few places (i. e. John l8:2*f,28) John Is saying, in effect, "For details, see Mark (or Matthew)" (251=79). As to date, Higgins rebuts the attempt of Dodd (and Gardner-Smith) to advance it to where John and Mark would be contemporaries (118:362). D. Moody Smith, in attempting to evaluate the present situation, goes too far in claiming that the consensus of contemporary scholarship rejects John*s knowledge of the synoptics. Many of the scholars whom he lists do in fact hold such a position (Wilkens, Noack, Gardner-Smith, Dodd, and others). But Smith is flatly wrong when he says "E. C. Hoskyns in his com mentary prudently refrained from claiming that John knew the synoptics in their present form" (222:3*+ 9)• The words of Hoskyns to which Smith refers are quoted in full in Note * + 2 above. As can be seen from that quotation, it is true that Hoskyns denies that John is to be seen as an editor, but it is also true that Hoskyns clearly insists not only that John knew the synoptic material but his knowledge "even of its form. is certain" (italics added). Scott Holland was the first to argue for the view that the fourth gospel is unintelligible if re moved from the synoptics and that it was, in fact, written in order to answer questions which the synop tics posed but could not answer.(120:1-37). The importance of Holland's view is seen in that two of the more recent and most respected of English commentaries (those by Barrett and Hoskyns) both speak warmly of Holland, Hoskyns insisting that "he had seen the problem of the gospels more clearly than any other English New Testament scholar" (121:^6). "Mark's baptism story is open to an adoptionist interpretation" (13*25). These are both questions asked by Celsus. See Origen's Contra Celsus ii.9,12,31 *, and viii.39,**l. Such is Barrett's view (13*58). "Jesus the exorcist might be no more than Jesus the common magician" (13*^)* Here, Hoskyns insists that the problem "lies as so often, less with the Fourth Jospel than with its predecessors and with the actual meaning of acts and words," a meaning which the synoptic writers fail to furnish (121:197). "... the account of what took place in the Upper Hoorn is described with such reserve in Mark and Matthew as to be almost unintelligible" (121:1*32). Cullmann ( 66) has as a continuing thesis the ar gument that the words of Matt. 16 and 18, referring to the church, are authentic, thus Jesus did foresee the church. Such is also the thrust of Flew's book (98). Barrett is probably closer to the mark when he insists 16* + that Jesus did not foresee "a community living on in earthly conditions of space and time” (15*138). So also Klausner: "Jesus himself did not deliver a single word with intent to found a new religious community1 ' (1 Vi :261)• 63. Leitzmann's phrase, quoted approvingly by Flew (98:125), "From the very beginning, the original church was a missionary church," is simply not true. 6*+. Reference to Jewish excommunication of Christians is seen in John 9*22 and 16:2, and is reflected in the Eighteen 3enedictlons: "Benediction 12. For the renegades let there be no hope, and may the arrogant kingdom soon be rooted out in our days, and the Nazarenes and the minim perish as in a moment and be blotted out from the book of life." (17:167) 65. The final, official Roman view: "Christus, the founder of the sect. was put to death as a criminal by the procurator. Pontius Pilate, in the reign of Tiberius." Tacitus, Annals. xv.^f. 66. R. E. Brown (37*129)* 67. Colwell-Titus deny that John wrote to defend the synoptics (61:78), but Hoskyns more correctly insists that John wrote: ". • • not to develop and propound some new truth, but to show forth the meaning of what his readers already know, and to do this at a moment when misunderstanding is actually leading to disaster." (121:50-51) "John does not so much import foreign matter into the gospel as bring out what was already inadequately expressed in the earlier tradition." (13*^) Schmiedel could once insist that John is "domi nated by a complete indifference as to the faithful ness of a record" (210:139), and Reville could once insist that the "Fourth Sospel is not a faithful his torical account" (185*297). Throughout Jtllicher's work (132), Johannine departures from the synoptic record are labeled "invariably wrong." Today, however, Higgins can insist that John*s historical sources "deserve at least as much respect as those employed by the synoptics" (117*82). So also Dodd (86:*+ 28). See Bernard ( 2 b tI,xciv), Drummond (89*28), and Scott (218:1*+). Sanday could flatly state "my purpose is apolo getic," and again, "I propose to defend the traditional view," and yet again, "I plead guilty to being an apol- ogist' . 1 (20U3-5). Sardner-Smith maintains that he detects in re cent years "a distinct tendency to admit that in some respects the fourth gospel is nearer to primitive tra dition than either Matthew or Luke" (102*95). J. Sanders goes so far as to insist that John is not only an historically reliable record, but it cannot even be 166 accepted or comprehended unless its historicity be conceded. That is, while "the bare event has no mean— ing or importance unless and until the eye of faith sees it," nonetheless "the bare event itself is indis pensable" (205*29-30). Hoskyns has similar remarks in that section of his book subtitled "Historical Ten sion." T. W. Manson insists that John "is on some points quite possibly superior to the Synoptic record" and goes on from there to insist that "the question of the historical value of the Fourth Gospel is wide open again" (165*219). Howton opens an article by baldly stating that John "reports facts and not his own in terpretation of the fact" (12*+:27) • Moore says that his article is an attempt to probe behind the symbolism of John for "historical probabilities" (170:75)« Albright's entire article (6) is an insistence that recent archaeological discoveries have done much to vindicate historical-topographical reminiscences in John, Perhaps the most significant of recent articles is that of J. A. T. Robinson in which he insists that there is today "an openness to recognizing that in the Johannine tradition we may be as near to the Jesus of history as in the Synoptic Gospels" (191:100). Johnston, following Robinson's lead, lists six points in John 6 which indicate that the Johannine account of the feeding is far more primitive and closer to his tory than are the synoptics (131*151-53). Before Robinson and Van Urmik wrote, however, Jeremias was already using Johannine passages for his reconstruction of Jesus' message: see not only his book (127), but also, more pointedly, his article (129). The two most notable books in this vein have already been referred to, Dodd (86) and Higgins (11?). Excavations in Jerusalem brought to light an ex tensive pavement in front of the Antonia, Vincent, the discoverer, claimed this as the pavement of John 19*13 (2M+:83-113)? a conclusion rejected by Benoit (22:531-50). Albright, however, insists that the issue is beyond debate and that L. H. Vincent was correct in his conclusions (6:158-59). Dodd too assumes that John 19*13 reflects an independent and reliable his torical tradition (86:108-09)* See Higgins (117*80), Dodd (86:180,2*4-9 ) ? Howard (123*133)? Albright (6:159)? Bernard (2*+: I,lxxx), and Sanday (201:123). Earlier, Schmiedel could dismiss Johannine de tails as allegories, "the five porticoes • • • the five books of Moses" (210:99). Earlier, Kundsin (1*4-7) could dismiss all topographical references as due not to factual knowledge but to theological interests. He claimed, on the one hand, that the places referred t D were but stages in the growth and development of Christianity. On the other hand, he insisted that the gospel seemed to be a guidebook for pilgrims visiting sacred sites of gospel history. As evidence, he noted that only building sites, and never building interiors, were described— because, he said, the city was in ruins when the author wrote, and he had no solid in formation other than the rubble. But today, says Higgins, such a "sceptical atti tude to John's topographical statements is becoming more and more out of date'* (117*79)* See Higgins (117:56-62). Robinson insists that John is "remarkably well informed on the Baptist" and it is in this area, he prophesies, that scholarship will undergo '*a complete reversal in the criticism of the Jospel" because "the early chapters of John embody a tradition remarkably well informed on southern Palestine," this due to the fact that the evangelist "once belonged to John's movement" (191*101 and 193s 25). Dodd, however, is the most daring, insisting not only on the historicity of the Baptist narrative, but actually suggesting that the disciple of the Baptist was not merely our unnamed evangelist but Jesus Him- self. This for Dodd explains many of the difficult phrases, such as John's statement that he who is after me (that is, my follower or disciple) is before me, and also accounts for the fact that Jesus and John are shown as baptizing simultaneously, a tradition which Dodd accepts (86:27*+-75,278,281 ,292). Dodd (86:2^6). We have already seen that J. N. Sanders not only accepts the Lazarus narrative as historical, but in sists that Lazarus is the "disciple whom Jesus loved" (Note 51 above). He goes on from there, in another wildly brilliant guess, to say that Judas is the brother of Lazarus, Mary, and Martha (205*3*+»36,*+1). Less dramatically, in an earlier work, Gardner-Smith also maintained the basic historicity of the Lazarus event (101:28^-), as does Howard (123:19*+) • Dodd finds corroborating independent evidence for the Johannine dating in 3ab. Sanh. *+3b, ar*d thus concludes that the version in John is to be preferred (89*109-11). Danitflou (71*26-27) accepts the view put forth by Mile. Jaubert (126) who claimed that Jesus and His disciples followed the custom of Qumran where, it appears, a separate calendar was followed in fixing the Passover, and according to which the Pass- over always fell on a Wednesday. The argument is too complicated to pursue here. 170 Some of the older writers preferred the supper dating of John simply because the narrative was more straight forward than the synoptics: Drummond (89*58), Bernard (2*+:I,cvi-cvii). 79. Howard (123*137). 80. Johnston (131*151-53), Higgins (117*27,30), and Dodd (85*33*+ and 86:213-1*+), all agree that John is to be preferred, Johnston because of the presence of prim itive words in the feeding narrative, Higgins and Dodd because the narrative better reflects the political tensions of the day. Higgins, elsewhere, suggests that Peter's con fession, following as it does in John the disaffection of the followers of Jesus, sheds light on the Markan parallel's question, "Who do men say that I am?" That is, with John before us, we can now understand Hark. Higgins* conclusion: "We might even say that Caesarea Philippi is reinstated as the coping-stone in the often despised chronology" (118*360-61). This is an interesting point. John corrects toward history, bringing the political realities of the day into sharper focus and also shedding light on Mark. But he simultaneously corrects awa.v from history, for it remains a flat and undeniable fact that Caesarea Philippi is not mentioned. This fact, that John is often closest to history when most removed from it, we shall see again, Dodd (86:7^-), taking up a point made earlier by Renan. Sanday (201:128). Howard (123*13^), Dodd (86:7*+). Dodd (86:82,8i+- 88). Dodd (86:106), Sardner-Smith (102:65). Sardner-Smith (102:60), Higgins (117*5^-55), Sanday (201:126), and Dodd (86:93,95,112,111 *, 120,216) . Dodd especially insists on the greater verisimilitude of the Johannine narrative, claiming that John shows a keener awareness of the political realities of the day. Howard (123*133). Dodd gives an extended quotation from Raymond Schmittlein*s Circonstances et Pauses de la Mort du Christ. reading like a medical report. The conclusion he draws is that water and blood could in fact have flowed from the side of Jesus (86:136). Here Dodd is probably claiming too much, the passage being theo logical rather than historical. lardner-Smith (102:80), Howard (123*1 *+3). Dodd (86:369). Scott (218:1*+), and Higgins (117*11). The lat ter1 s comments are especially relevant since his en tire book is dedicated to the affirmation of John's historical worth. 172 92. F. V/. Beare's comments are especially incisive, and we quote from various parts of his review of Dodd's hook (19:517-22): "But X wonder if the total effect of this investigation may not be misleading, in that it does not take into account the un reality of the general picture of Jesus in this Gospel. . . To set the matter in per spective. let us recall briefly that John the Baptist did not in fact hail Jesus as the lamb of God. . . Jesus did not talk to a woman by a well in Samaria about his own Kessiahship. . • did not discourse to the multitudes about his descent from heaven . . . Nothing like a cohort of Homan troops was sent to arrest him, and the soldiers did not recoil and fall to the ground when he admitted his identity. . . the Jesus of History did not address his hearers in the structured dialogues and monologues of the Fourth Gospel." "This is not to suggest that Professor Dodd himself fails to give due weight to these considerations. It is a caution, rather, to his readers against an over-enthusiastic reversion to the historical approach to this Gospel. British scholarship has an unquenchable longing for brute historical and biographical fact, and there is a perpetual danger that the wish may give birth to the persuasion that the facts are more readily ascertainable than is actually the case.. After all has been said, and every last particle of primitive gold-dust has been extracted, the Fourth Gospel in its total character is a much less reliable source of historical (especially biographical) information than Mark, even though it may in some instances preserve a more accurate recollection of what occurred. The 'new look* on. the Fourth Gospel has already, in my opinion, set a number of my colleagues dancing down a false path; and I would beg that due weight should still be given to the patently unhistorical aspects of the Johannine picture of Jesus, as well as to 93. 9 h . 95. 96. 97. 98. 99. 100. 1 0 1. 173 the presence within the composition of elements of good primitive tradition." Dodd himself, at least in earlier writings, was raising that same note of caution (87:215). Fritz Barth (18:15)? Drummond (89*375)? Sanday (201:8*+), and Streeter (232:*+17) • Scott (217:67?353)? Robinson (191:102). Colwell-Titus (61:38-39)? MacOregor 062:xxii), Bacon (11*212). Hoskyns (121:35*+-55). "'And it was night.' Yet the paschal moon was shining at the full." Howard (123*187). Howard (123*187). Abrahams argues that John retains "a genuine tradition of an aspect of Jesus' teaching which has not found a place in the Synoptics" (3*I?12). Scott main tains that the Johannine dialogues are but an expansion of synoptic themes (217*3)? a conclusion similar to Drummond's (89:35,^1,6*+-65) • Higgins argues in the opposite direction, claiming that the synoptics furnish no parallel to the great "I am" discourses (117*73-7*+) • We would agree with Bultmann's view that where the Johannine-synoptic parallels are greatest the differ ences too are greatest (Note 2*+ above). Dodd (86:96), Drummond (89*379). Sanday holds that the fourth evangelist did in 102. 103. 10M-. 105. 106. 17^ fact overhear the conversation with the woman, not having gone with the others because he could not bear to be too long parted from Jesus (201:85). His view is not convincing. Hoskyns (121:509). Juilding insists that the whole arrest, trial, and crucifixion in John is to be taken symbolically as a "prophetic pre-enacting of the events of A. D. 70" (113:l67-68)• Dodd (86:217). Dodd holds the tradition in John of a garden in the area to be historically reliable (86:1^0), but Hoskyns notes that the passage very early received an allegorical interpretation from the fathers--even as the fall of Adam occurred in a garden, so also was salvation accomplished in a garden (121:509). Strack-Billerbeck (231:11,25). Strachan holds simply for some now undefinable historical kernel, heightened by John, lying behind the Lazarus story (230:225). So also Higgins (117: ^8). Renan insisted that the story was not a creation of the evangelist, but a deception traceable in part back to Jesus Himself. Mary and Martha had asked for a mighty sign, but Jesus told instead a parable, that of Lazarus and Dives. The sisters, .however, "impru dently and with excessive zeal," transformed the story into an event, and Jesus, "whose conscience had 107. 108. 109. 110. 111. 175 lost something of its early purity,1 ' went along with the tale. Sanders, on the other hand, as we have seen, argues for the historicity of the whole event. Con versely, Drummond (89:63-61 +), Howard (123:189), and Croguel (10^:II,^12) are all hard put to find any his torical value in the story. Both Howard (123*209) and Hoskyns (121:289) in sist not only that John 6 is eucharistic, but also that eucharistic terminology by this time was already inextricably linked to the last night of Jesus' life. Hoskyns (121:281). Moore (170:86). It could be further added that in John the Lazarus event replaces the synoptic cleansing of the temple as the event which led to the crucifixion of Jesus, but in John 11:^8 it says that the hostility of the Jews was engendered not because of Lazarus' raising but because of the threat to their "holy place." By this route, too, then, there seems evidence that John concedes in fact that the temple cleansing was an event from late in the life of Jesus. "His book must have been a disturbing book. The urgent questions are, What has he done? and, "Why did he do it?" (121*73). Bacon (11:112), MacCregor (I62:xxvi), Drummond (89*65), but most especially Scott (217:2 and 218:1 +, 18) insist on this no longer tenable view. It is true that oiou 0 £ o u does not appear in all the manuscripts. However, Vincent Taylor, having weighed the evidence, concludes that there are strong reasons "for accepting the phrase as original, in view of its attestation" (237:152). Note 11 Above. Note 5 Above. That \ 0 - r p o v includes the idea of redemption, or liberation, or being set free from enemies, has been widely recognized. Vincent Taylor says it is "used in the LXX of the redemption of possessions" and for "deliverance from enemies, from sin, from death" (235s*+0). Denney defines the word as meaning "that by means of which . . . the action of the verb Cto deliver) is accomplished" (79:*+^). Burton says it means "to redeem, to deliver at cost of some sort to the deliverer" (52*168). T. K. Abbott goes on to insist that the word, in biblical and later patristic writings, was laden with overtones of ransom from "the ruler of this world, and the evil powers under him" (2:12-13). "Indeed, St. Mark's Sospel can be so expounded as to appear of a theological subtlety so complex and profound as to make the Fourth Evangelist appear by contrast a mere beginner in the art of theological symbolism." (205!31) 177 117. We are reminded that nowhere do the synoptics ever link together either Jesus' death on the cross with the forgiveness of sins, or Jesus' resurrection with the future life of believers. Taylor writes: "No saying preserved in the gospel tradition connects His death with sin" (235*88-89). In another work, he reviews the synoptic usage of words of forgiveness and concludes: “If we omit parallels in the various gospels and in the different sources we are left with five sayings: those on blasphemy, on forgiving others, and on repealed forgiveness, that in the Lord's Prayer, and the word from the cross; and in addition the refer- to forgiveness in the Lukan story of the woman (7*^7) and in the Matthew $ arable of the unforgiving servant, he material is less, I think, than might have been expected. . • the ab sence of a saying of Jesus directly associating His death with forgive ness is a confirmation that the for giveness of sins is not the primary object of His suffering and death." (236:13-1^) Kennedy makes the same point, noting that there "is no attempt to explain the relation of forgiveness to the death of Jesus" (139*115)* 118. "There is a great deal more interest in the purpose and theology of the Synoptic Evangelists themselves. . . And there are signs of a correspond ing interest in the Johannine tradi tion." (191*105) 119- Collingwood, engaged in a "running fight" with 178 120. historical positivism, writes: "Historical knowledge is the knowledge of what mind has done in the past, and at the same time it is redoing that past, the perpetuation of past acts in the present." (59*218) Bultraann's concern for existential interpreta tion is too well known to need documentation here. James Robinson, who has established himself on this side of the Atlantic as one of the leading proponents of such hermeneutical views writes: "History is the act of intention, the commitment, the meaning of the par ticipants, behind the external occur rence. In such intentions and commit ments the self of the participant actualizes itself, and in this act of self-actualization the self is revealed. Hence it is the task of modern histor iography to grasp such acts of intention, such commitments, such meaning, such self-actualization; and it is the task of modern biography to lay hold of the selfhood which is therein revealed." (189:67-68) Barrett insists that John and Mark both "did not hesitate to repress, revise, rewrite, and rearrange" the narratives of Jesus' life because they understood that the "mere historical data of the life of Jesus are trivial apart from faith" (13*5*117). Hoskyns is very close to Barrett, insisting that "mere informa tion about the place from which Jesus came may come perilously close to complete misunderstanding" (121: 6*+). Yet both men go on to insist that it does not 12 1. 12 2. 179 follow that the historical event can be minimized or set aside: Barrett Cl 3 s , Hoskyns (121:117)* "Unique creations" is oerhaps the wrong term, implying that John actually created history. He did, yet he did not. He created form, but not content. He manufactured situations and events, but only to draw out meanings latent in other earlier recorded events. For a discussion of whether or not John ac tually did create history, see Robinson (195*61) and Cullraann (68:185-92). From ancient times there has been a minority opinion that we have in John 1 :13 an allusion to the virgin birth, it being claimed that f t * * 'r\® ‘ *\<Tcnv was originally in the singular. The Verona Codex of the Old Latin version has the singular and Tertullian (De Carne Christ!. xix. cf.xxiv) argues that "the sen tence is in the singular and refers to the Lord. He was born of Jod." In light of these facts, and the way in which both Ignatius and Justin Martyr seem to use this verse, Barrett concludes that "there may be an allusion to the virgin birth in 1:13" (13:** 2). But we must side with Hoskyns who insists that the alternate reading is "neither well-supported textual- ly nor necessary" (121:16^-). Dodd remarks that the alternate reading is "poorly attested, and its inser tion is all too easily explicable*.''' ( 85*260) • 180 123. 12*f. 125, 126. 127. Barrett writes of the eucharistic teaching in John, but his words apply equally well to John's treatment of other events: . . the most significant events could easily become incidental, and could even, if removed from their proper setting, be dangerously mis understood. John safeguards their meaning by stripping them of their historical framework and individuality and building them into the theological framework of his gospel." (13:*+ 2) Hoskyns says almost exactly the same thing: "This relating of every episode to the final truth involvas, if the episode is to be described, a re description in a technically non- historical form; since, if the episode be described otherwise, description of it ceases to be eschatologicalj that is to say, related strictly in terms of final truth, and inevitably becomes a historical description, with all that that implies." (121:11*0 Is this also the point Lindars (158:2*0, and, before him, Drummond (89:*+27) seek to make? Hoskyns (121:8*0. Benoit (23:19*0 • Barrett develops this idea in great detail (1 5s20,23-2*+), concluding: "The part played by the Holy Spirit in the birth narratives is thus seen to be the fulfillment of God's promised redemption In a new act of creation, comparable with that of Gen. 1.1 1 This argument is borrowed directly from C. K. 128. 129. 130. 131. 132. 133. 13^ . 135. 181 Barrett (13s^- 3—J-Ai-> . This verse alone ought be sufficient rebuttal to those who would find that John replaced adoption- ism with inspirational incarnationism. Yet such views, like the poor, are always with uss see Colwell-Titus (61:110-11), and Titus' student, Davis (76:105-06). Lindars (158:2*0 and Barrett (13:126). This argument is borrowed directly from Hoskyns (121:81-82). See also Barrett and Howard (123:132). Barrett agrees that the scene recalls Mark 10 (13:15). Most commentators however see it as based on Luke 22:27. So Ooguel (1 05: II, 13*+) » Schmiedel (210:117), and Dodd (86:60). Hoskyns (121:^36) and Dodd (86:62). Bultmann sees this as the rite Df ordination— the call to ser vice (Mf :356-57). Hoskyns writes: "The girding with the towel marks the action of a slave" (121:1 * 37). This, we assume, is the point of Hoskyns' re mark: "Stories of miracles are profitless if they be mere stories of miracles" (121:8* 0 . F. C. Orant says the exorcisms were set aside merely because John's readers would not have found 136. 182 them edifying (108:32*+). So also, earlier, Bacon (11*331)* This is overly facile. John's most astounding tour de force is found in the fact that he takes the words of Mark 1 :2*+ out of the mouth of the demon and puts them into the mouth of Peter, John 6:69. Thus on the one hand he recalls the synoptic scene where Peter is identified with Satan, Matt.16:23, and simultaneously frees Peter of that opprobrium by going on to identify Judas, and not Peter, as the true son of the devil, John 6:70-71. The point for John is that demon- possession is not metaphysical but is instead found in refusing to believe in Jesus. 183 PART TWO Necessary Secondary Considerations Thus far our investigations have led us to several conclusions, chief among which is the insistence that the author of the fourth gospel knew and knew veil the work of the synoptic writers. And not only did our author know those works, but so also did his audience. This, we said, was one of the primary reasons for our author*s taking up the pen. The earlier writings, even though they were both literary and theological masterpieces, were open to serious misunderstanding, and as they stood they could cause con siderable consternation and confusion within the church. John therefore wrote in order to make possible the proper comprehension of the earlier gospels. We rejected, therefore, the views of such scholars as Windisch who in sisted that the fourth gospel was written in order to re place the earlier gospels, and Gardner-Smith and Dodd who claimed that this gospel was written in ignorance of the other three. This gospel instead, as Scott Holland claimed, taking up a view as old as Clement, must be read within the 181+ context of the synoptics. It is a commentary upon them, a supplement to them. Not a supplement in the sense of the later Infancy (losoels, seeking to fill in the gaps of Jesus' life left open by the canonical writings, for the new material is minimal. But rather a "spiritual" supnlement in the sense that this later writing was concerned with bringing out the true meaning of that which was already known but which was in danger of being misunderstood. In short, John was an attempt to explain and improve the literary heritage of the church in a time when that heritage was in serious danger of being misinterpreted. This attempt to improve upon the synoptics took two directions. One we have called a correction toward his tory. In many places, we have noted, this gospel moves closer to historical fact, and it is in our day that this fact is being noted and reflected in a rising appreciation of the historicity of the fourth gospel. We have also in sisted, however, that this rising appreciation of John's historicity must be tempered with caution. While it is true that this gospel in many of its parts and isolated phrases represents an historical milieu which is no doubt closer to fact than are the synoptics, this is not true of the gospel as a whole. Many of the conversations reported in it are conversations which took place in camera and there is no conceivable way in which it can be argued 185 scientifically that the conversations recorded are verbatim reports of actual dialogues. Far more logical is it to see those conversations as personal creations expressing the individual views of the author. This impression is strengthened when one takes into consideration the long recognized fact that all of the dialogue in this gospel, no matter on whose lips it may be found, has a certain sameness about it— a sameness which at times makes it im possible even to determine where one speaker's words end and another's begin. Cne has the inescapable feeling that the author is practicing a literary device as old or older than Thucydides' practice of putting into the mouth of the speaker his own view of what probably took place rather than what was actually stated. It is not only the conversations of this gospel which carry the impression of being nonhistorical. Events as well as words seem to be if not the personal creations of the author at least personal adaptations of what was earlier known— adaptations of such a radical nature that they almost apnear to be separate events, earlier unrelated. This, we have argued, is the second tendency of this gospel— the author's correcting away from history. Often, to lessen the possibility of misunderstanding and to make clear the true sense of a synoptic episode, the author deliberately altered the earlier recorded facts, sometimes 186 actually rejecting the historical fact in order that the true meaning might emerge. These two tendencies--that the author is both able to move toward and move away from history— even though they are polar opoosites, are nonetheless united in one fact. That fact is, we are confronted by an author who writes with a sovereign sense of superiority.^ He respected and sought to salvage the treasured books of the church, and yet he was convinced that he was able to improve upon those books. We are confronted by a man who seems to be con vinced to the depth of his being that he knows better the facts and inner meaning of the life of Jesus than did the synoptic writers. Here is a man dominated by a personal sense of superiority. Here is a man who is convinced that his own personal evaluations and observations are of more worth than the first three gospels, and are necessary if those first three gospels are rightly to be grasped. In short, the line of interpretation we have laid out for our selves forces upon us the question of authorship and the personal authority of the writer. Who could such a man be? By what authority does he write? Does he truly have a greater cognizance of the life of Jesus than the synoptic writers? If yes, who could this be but a disciple of Jesus, a member of the inner circle. If no, and this sense of superior knowledge is grounded not in fact but in the 187 arrogance of a later unknown, does this writing have any merit or value at all? The author's attitude and person are absolutely inseparable from the evaluation of his literary product. It would appear that the author's in tention seems to be to improve upon and clarify the syn optic writings. That intention can be accepted as legitimate only if it can be shown that the author stands closer to the historical figure of Jesus than did the synoptic writers. Thus we have forced upon us by the very nature of interpretation we have outlined the necessity of considering the question of authorship. Before proceeding to an examination of the matter of authorship, there is one side avenue of exploration which must be glanced at in at least a cursory way. There are those who would argue that this sovereign sense of personal superiority is in no way related to the authority of the author. That is, it is claimed that the freedom seen in his handling of the synoptic material Is traceable back not to a conviction of greater awareness but rather Is only a characteristic of the peculiar literary style of the author. The fact that he shapes and transforms the synoptic stories does not necessarily, it is held, prove that he has infor mation superior to the synoptics. It proves merely that the author had a casual approach to all of his sources, not 188 seeing himself as restricted to the necessity of exact quotation and repetition. 3y this point of view, the sovereign sense of freedom noted in the author is to be ascribed not to the fact that he has superior information. He is not independent of sources. Hather, he is dependent upon sources. All that he writes he receives secondhand, from other writings. The fact that he differs from his sources is due not to a personal authority nor to superior independent information, but due instead simply to an idiosyncrasy of style. This line of argument is developed by examining the way in which he treats known sources, that is, the Old Testament. He is obviously dependent upon the Old Test ament, and yet he quotes from it with a sense of freedom which borders on reckless abandon. His references to the Old Testament are often so free and casual, even careless, that it becomes impossible in places to determine from what book he is quoting or to which passage he is alluding. If he can treat a known source upon which he actually con fesses dependence with such freedom, then it would follow that he could treat the synoptics in the same way. Thus, by pursuing the parallel to its conclusion, it can be held that even as he is dependent upon the Old Testament and yet feels free to alter and paraphrase it, so also his altering of the synoptics does not necessarily prove independence of 189 them. He is dependent upon them despite his free treatment of them. He has no superior information. This is the argument, or at least the implication, of Charles Goodwin's article,^"How Did John Treat His Sources?" In this brief but penetrating article Goodwin begins by arguing the obvious, namely, John did use the Old Testament as a source, and he concludes that if we examine carefully the way in which the Old Testament is used we will have the proper clue to understanding the way in which the other sources, the synoptics, were used. The first point noted is that John very rarely quotes from the Old Testament. This is not to say that Old Testament thought is foreign to the author. tfather, his specific references to the Old Testament are few in number. The conclusion that Goodwin draws from this is that John is obviously therefore quoting from memory without consulting any books. The thought of the Old Testament Is present, but not the literal wording. This indicates quotation from memory. This indication Goodwin takes as verified by two other factors. Firstly, John has a habit of summing up the sense of an Old Testament oassage without reproducing exact phrases. Secondly, the fact that John often uses a hazy phrase such as "it is written" or "written In the prophets" as over against a specific reference to a specific prophet again indicates quotation from memory. He has a hazy memory, sure that a 190 prophet did say something of the sort, bat not sure which prophet it was.^ Of even more importance is the fact that John is 1+ m capable of seriously altering the sense of a passage. The conclusion J-oodwin draws is this: This study of John's use of his only ex plicitly acknowledged source shows that he quoted it rarelyt loosely, and confusedly, often con flating two or more passages, distorting their meaning, and hiding their context. W e may sus- pect him of incorporating alien elements into them. He appears to have quoted from memory. And whatever was the original intent of the source material used, John has forcibly accom modated everything to his own purpose. (107*73) Goodwin then goes on to apply this conclusion to the question of whether or not John knew and used the synoptics. If he did use the Synoptics, we shall expect to find important passages ignored, and to find that Synoptic material and especially traces of Synoptic wording appear but rarely. Where Synoptic material does appear, we shall expect to find that sometimes the original Is followed with surprising fidelity, but that more often it is reproduced very loosely. Often details of one story will appear in another. The whole point and lesson of a passage is likely to be radically altered. * We suspect that alien elements may be introduced. And when we turn to compare John*s text with that of the Synoptics, we find exactly that kind of evidence. Indeed the number of traces of Synoptic wording is far greater than we should have any right to suspect. This evidence can be explained away, but it is adequately explained by supposing that John used Mark and either Matthew or Luke or their sources, quoting from memory, and treating their material as he treated the Old Testament. (107*7^-75) For CJoodwin, then, just as surely as John used the 191 Old Testament but used it freely, paraphrasing and con flating and even altering certain passages, so also he just as surely used the synoptics in precisely the same way. For Goodwin, the departures from the synoptics, as from the Old Testament, are seen as an idiosyncrasy of style, due to the fact that the author had steeped himself in the thought of the documents but has quoted them loosely from memory. The departures are due not to ignorance nor to a sovereign sense of superiority, but due simply to the confidence that the thought of the documents is so well known to him that verbatim quotation is not necessary. In evaluating Goodwin's argument, several things must be said, both positively and negatively. Firstly and positively, there can be no doubt that Goodwin is correct in insisting that some sort of parallel must be seen in John's treatment of the synoptics and that of the Old Testament. If he is capable of conflating and altering the the one, he is capable of doing the same to the other. This is a point ignored by Gardner-Smith and denied by Dodd. Dodd especially has consistently denied conflation,^ insisting instead that the places where the wording of Matthew, Mark, and Luke flow together are due to an in dependent oral tradition. He argues that it Is impossible to imagine that John would have followed such a procedure 192 of picking a word or phrase from ona synoptic gospel, joining it to a word or phrasa from another, altering the setting and meaning of the original contexts in the pro cess. Goodwin has clearly shown that such a procedure is not at all impossible, but is precisely the way in which John handles the Old Testament. His argument that if John handles the Old Testament in this way he is capable of a similar handling of the synoptics appears to be a very strong argument. We appreciate his rebuttal of Gardner- Smith, whom he mentions by name, and it is clear that he has called attention to an aspect of the problem which Gardner-Smith ignored entirely. In Ga- dner-Smith's en thusiasm for the independence of John, with its consequent emphasis upon the Johannine-synoptic differences and its minimizing of their similarities, he has been led into the error of failing to recognize this stylistic peculiarity of John. Had he recognized the way in which John used his Old Testament sources, he would not have been able to deny so adamantly John's awareness of the synoptic writings. Further, positively, one also appreciates Goodwin's underlining of the fact that when John does use the Old Testament, he does so not with a prooftexting purpose (as is so often the case with Matthew, for example), but does so with a hagiographic or Kidrashic purpose. His intention is not simply to quote or reproduce an Old Testament word, 193 but rather to interpret and apply, to draw out the meaning of, that Old Testament word. And such a procedure demands rephrasing and adaptation.^ When this is fully understood, we can, by extension, understand why John so often alters even as he refers to or quotes from the synoptic stories. The departures are due to an attempt to extract the sense 7 of the passage at hand, and not due to ignorance.' But, while much of Goodwin's argument can be em braced, several negative comments must be made. In the first place, Goodwin falls into the error of equating know ledge with dependence upon. It is at this point that the parallel between John's employment of the Old Testament and his employment of the synoptics breaks down entirely. John knew and depended upon the Old Testament. Of this there is no doubt. He knew the synoptics as well. But it does not follow that he depended upon them, or that his knowledge of the life of Jesus was limited to what he found therein. Goodwin at this point is guilty of the opposite error of Gardner-Smith. Gardner-Smith made too much of the many differences between John and the synoptics and too little or their likenesses. Goodwin has failed to appreciate the fact that John goes, often, far beyond what he ever could have found in the synoptics. He has, we have noted earlier, superior information which renders Impossible the idea of dependence upon those documents alone. He knew the syn— 19*+ optics as well as he knew the Old Testament, but while he was steeped in them his knowledge was not confined to what he found in them. Goodwin has not acknowledged adequately the fact made so clear in the recent studies of men such as Higgins, Dodd, Albright, and Gardner-Smith that John often stands closer to historical reality than do the documents upon which he is supposedly dependent. This leads us to the fatal weakness of Goodwin's line of argument. It becomes impossible to simply dismiss these departures of John from his "sources'1 as a mere characteristic of style. His differences from the synoptic writings are not due only to a process of conflation or adaptation. He has superior sources of information. He feels himself able to correct that which he echoes. He is convinced that he knows the life of Jesus better than those who first wrote of it. From where this confidence? Rather than solving the problem by referring to the Old Testament, Goodwin has intensified it. Now we must explain not only why John felt free to alter the synoptics, but we must also explain how it was that he dared to alter the meaning of the Old Testament! What had happened to this man? To what influences had he been subjected which he believed gave to him the right to transform the treasured Scripture? He must have felt that he had come into contact with some one or something greater than Moses. He must have believed 195 that ha had come into contact with the incarnate word of God, infinitely greater than any word written by the prophets, which gave him the right to alter and even re verse those words of the prophets. He must have believed that he had met the one to whom Moses and the prophets witnessed. As he was later to write, Moses and the prophets were but signposts pointing to a greater reality. Men searched the Scripture believing they could find therein words of truth and life. But the Scripture itself was not life and truth— it was only a signpost pointing beyond it self to life and truth, and it was to be read and under stood only in the light of the final revelation of Sod given in Jesus. Jesus Himself was the revelation of Sod, and all else was to be understood in the light of His person. That is the point of view which dominates this gospel. The Scripture, and the synoptics, can only be rightly grasped by one who has come to know the mind of Jesus. And this author, whoever he was, obviously was convinced that he knew that mind of Jesus. It is on this fact that his sense of superiority is grounded. He knew the mind of Jesus. Goodwin is right. The departures from the synoptics must be seen in the same light as the departures from the Old Testament. But those departures are not simply an idiosyncrasy of style as Goodwin claims. Nor are they due to ignorance of the synoptics, as Dodd and Gardner-Smith claim. They are due instead to the fact that 196 our author was convinced that he had come face to face with the final truth of God in Jesus. It is from this that his sovereign sense of superiority grows. He knows better than any written document what the meaning is of the word of God for he has lived with that word of God made flesh, which tabernacled among men. In an unmediated way he had, he was convinced, stood in the presence of God, and therefore he, better than any other testimony to that point given, was able to communicate the true meaning of the life of Jesus. Who could such a man be1 ? After the excursus of discussion concerning Goodwin*s point of view, we are once more forced back on that question. This sense of authority manifested in a free handling of all of his sources drives us back to the conclusion that the author of our gospel knew better than any other man the ultimate truth of God. Who could such a man be, other than a disciple, one who had actually shared in the life of that incarnate word? The authority of the gospel resides not in the person of the author himself. He is but a witness. The emphasis upon witnessing runs throughout this gospel. John the Baotist is a witness. The Scripture is a witness. The water and the blood are witnesses. The author is a wit ness. All authority rests in Jesus. But the author*s point, that which allows him to reshape all that witnesses unto Jesus, both Old Testament and synoptics alike, is that he better than any other is able to provide that witness.® 197 Ha batter than any other knows the true meaning of that life of Jesus, ' / / h o could such a man be, other than a close companion of Jesus, indeed, one whom Jesus loved more than any other?^ Let it be said immediately, if it is not already apparent, that the point of view argued for here is the traditional view that John the son of Zebedee, the disciple of Jesus, was the author. The question of authorship has so often and so intensely been examined, and such radically divergent conclusions drawn, that several points are im mediately clear. One, it is impossible to treat the issue of authorship exhaustively without allowing this section of our work to become disproportionately long. Thus all that can be done is to outline in a superficial way the salient points of the external and internal evidence. And, two, it is impossible, in the light of the evidence available, to claim that any argument put forth can be put forth as being beyond the range of shadow and doubt. All that can be hoped for is that an outlining of the evidence will make it clear that the issue is not closed in either direction, and it is at least possible to maintain the traditional view without being open to the charge of unscholarly and un scientific endorsement of traditionalism.^ The basic arguments traditionally used against the proposition that John son of Zebedee was the author of the 198 fourth gospel are fourfold. One, there is the fact that this gospel was held to be dependent upon the synoptics. T . * A i y would an eye-witness lean upon what tD him would be secondary sources? The theory of literary dependence of John upon the synoptics was a strong argument against authorship by a disciple. Two, the lata date ascribed to John also seemed to militate against the view of apostolic authorship. Three, it was almost axiomatic within circles of critical scholarship of the past generation to state that this gospel was Greek in its thinking and orientation. How then could the author be a Jew? Four, the manifestly nonhistorical character of the gospel also seemed to in dicate that the author was far removed from the actual life of Jesus sind hence could not be seen as one of the original disciples. All of these arguments, powerful in the past, have been offset by equally powerful present arguments. Thus the issue of authorship is once more, or at least ought be once more, sin open question. For example, the works of C.H. Dodd and Gardner-Smith may fall short of their stated aim of proving that John did not know the synoptics, but they certainly do prove that he was not dependent upon the synoptics. As we have so often insisted, the issue was beclouded when knowledge of was equated with dependence upon. Preoccupation with the synoptic problem, where know ledge of could and did mean dependence upon, blinded 199 scholarship to the possibility of another alternative, namely, that an author could know and yet not depend upon written documents. This leads directly to the fourth point of criticism noted above. We have seen that John was not dependent upon the synoptics. He had independent in formation. And that information has been shown to be in many cases of sounder historical value than was earlier seen. It can no longer be stated that John is nonhistorical as once was done. As to the question of late dating, that too is no longer in vogue. The tendency is no longer to place the final composition of the book out in the middle or at the end of the second century, thus rendering apos tolic authorship impossible. It Is now manifestly im possible to argue for any date later than about A.D. 125, and the probability of an even earlier date is high. We have noted, for example, that Gardner-Smith even dares to argue for a date earlier than some of the synoptics. As to the Greek nature of the gospel, the finds at Qumran have dramatically reversed that trend of thought, and the growing opinion seems to be that the roots of John are to be found not in Greek thought but rather in heterodox 1 2 Judaism. Some of these points demand greater attention, and to some of them we shall return. The only point for mention ing these arguments now is simply to underscore the point made earlier, namely, that one can in our day defend the 200 proposition of apostolic authorship without committing in tellectual suicide. Earlier arguments against the view of apostolic authorship have to a great extent lost their power and effectiveness. The question is open, to say the least. The external evidence is relatively simple but, it is claimed, inconclusive. That evidence revolves around the testimony of two men, Irenaeus and Papias. Attempts to go back beyond Irenaeus are indeed inconclusive. However, the testimony of Irenaeus himself appears to be straightforward and unambiguous. He tells us that John the disciple of the Lord wrote the gospel in an advanced age while residing at Ephesus, where he lived down to the time of Trajan. It is true that this John who is a disciple of the Lord is never explicitly called the son of Zebedee but, while it has been disputed, such seems to be the clear meaning of Irenaeus. -> Irenaeus further tells us that his information comes from first rate and unimpeachable sources. Polycarp him self had made known to Irenaeus the fact of John's author ship. Thus we seem to have a direct three-link chain, anchoring down the authorship of this gospel. Or, to put it another way, we are but one remove from the actual writing of the gospel. John the apostle knew and fellowshipped with Polycarp when Polycarp was a young man and John aged. Polycarp then shared those experiences with Irenaeus when 201 Irenaeus was a young man and Polycarp aged. A clear case seems to be established. However, no sooner is that said than the testimony of Papias must be brought forward, causing great difficul- " 1 ty. The problems latent In Papias' brief but oftquoted passage are many and well known. Chief among them are (1) the shift in tense from s f t r £ . v to (2) the double reference to one named John; and (3) the failure of Papias to make clear what he means by the titles fr p tfp o r e p o i and Too K u f x o u ^ ToCc # The Implications of these assertions by Papias have been endlessly debated, and the possible interoretations put forth are legion. Nonethe less, when all the verbiage is stripped away, one fact seems to emerge. That is, there appears to be little real doubt that Papias is indeed referring to two men named John. One of them is identified with these names we recognize as apostle-disciples of Jesus, which group Is > / identified by the past tense, €T/77€ v > indicating that they were no longer speaking in Papias1 time. That is, they had died without Papias ever hearing oi* knowing them* The other John, Identified with Aristion, is in Papias' time still speaking, still alive. But two other other points must be noted. Firstly, even though this second John is Identified with 7o u K u f t o v f/tkQ^TeCt^ the fact that Aristion is similarly identified seems to rule out the possibility that this second John is truly an apostle- 202 disciple in the accepted sense, for nothing allows us to . see Aristion in this way. Secondly, it is also quite clear that Papias does not claim direct contact with either group or with either John. It was always with the "followers'* of these groups that he had had intercourse. ' The upshot of all this is that the testimony of Irenaeus is called into serious doubt, and this in a double way. In the first place, the very existence of two Johns, one of them apparently unknown to Irenaeus, throws a deep shadow upon his testimony. Is it possible that he was con fused, not knowing that there were two men of the same name and, in his confusion, he wrongly credited the composition of the gospel to the original disciple when in fact it might have been the work of the other man? Further, this possibility of confusion in Irenaeus is deepened when one recalls that on the one hand, as we have seen, Papias claims no direct contact with either John, whereas Irenaeus on the other hand insists that Papias was a "hearer of John."16 The conflict of the two testimonies cannot be re solved. They remain irreducibly in conflict. The intro duction of later evidence supposedly proving that Irenaeus was indeed right and Papias was in fact not only a hearer of John but even his amanuensis is inconclusive, such evidence being too late and unreliable and too easily 203 accounted for as legendary accretion designed to bulwark the traditional view. Thus, in the final analysis, the scholar is forced to decide between the two testimonies, endorsing Irenaeus and discrediting Papias, or vice versa. That choice has often been made, accompanied by high praise for the integrity of the one and demeaning words of insult for the other. And with that the matter rests, solid fact at this point ceasing, and the argument degenerating into an exercise of rhetoric and a flirtation with libel.17 These exercises of rhetoric however have served to establish at least one fact. All other evidences beyond the original statements of Irenaeus and Papias are relatively valueless. This is especially true of the tradition concerning the supposed early martyrdom of John the son of Zebedee. If this tradition were in fact true it would, of course, definitively settle the matter. But this tradition cannot be claimed as established. The per tinent texts are all late, ambiguous and untrustworthy. They are of infinitely less scientific value than is the testimony of Irenaeus against which they were used. One of the more incredible chapters in the history of theology has been the way in which these poorly attested, nebulous, and unsatisfactory documents have been seized upon and trumpeted as yielding up "proven results." Their very 20^ acceptance by certain members of the radical critical school serves simply to underline the intensity of the quarrel of the past, indicating how heated was the search for any and all "evidence1 * which could be used to bulwark 1 ft a claim of victory. In seeking to evaluate this evidence, some mention must be made not only of the evidence itself, but also of the way in which this evidence was handled by earlier scholars. The point noted immediately above, "the in tensity of the quarrel," must be given full weight. One thing rings clear as one wades through the multiple arguments of preceding generations. This was no mere theologian's quarrel. This was no simple academic exer cise. There was an element of commitment, of personal in volvement, of intense emotional feeling, which characterized the disputants on both sides of the argument. That men long dead could be slandered, that men alive— learned and scientifically able men— could endorse near worthless documents purporting to describe the martyrdom of John, that their opponents could skillfully muster and marshal all patristic evidences in favor of Johannine authorship while blithely and almost dishonestly disregarding anything which cast doubt on their conclusions, all these things together indicate that what was taking place was far more crucial a consideration than a simple matter of literary composition. 205 In the eyes of the disputants themselves, what was at stake was the very heritage of the church. The question of authorship was, in the minds of all, intimately linked to the question of authority. If the gospel of John was not the gospel of John it was not even a gospel. It was spurious, of no value at all for the reconstruction of the life of Jesus. It was of value, of course, as a piece of devotional meditation, but of no more value than any other devotional meditation* It was a struggle quite different in that sense from the parallel considerations involving the synoptics. Those considerations would clarify the complex questions of authorship, shedding light on the growth and formation of early tradition. But the struggle of John seemed to hold out no hope of new insights— either the gospel was apostolic and valid, or non-apostolic and consequently worthless.^9 It was in this light that the quarrel unrolled, and, speaking in the broad, English speaking theologians were cast in the roll of defenders of the faith, protagonists of conservative tradition, whereas continental scholars, most especially the Germans, were cast in the praiseless roll of attackers, men consecrated to the unworthy goal of destroy ing hallowed beliefs. There were exceptions, of course, on both sides of the language line (T, Zahn was in Germany foremost amongst the "defenders'* and English speaking 206 scholarship was able to produce, in America, a Benjamin Bacon, crying out for the full repudiation and demolition of what he scornfully called the “defender" theory), yet it is true to say that on the surface the case was presented as a struggle between devotion and scholarship, between English scholars and German scholars, between those who insisted upon retaining treasured traditions and those who were willing to sacrifice all devotional considerations on the cold altar of scientific analysis. Men with a pious cause were pitted against those of skeptical nature who 20 honored nothing. Sanday certainly saw himself in this light and one senses an almost masoschistic self-satisfaction bordering on spiritual pride shining through his self-appointed roll of apologist for the traditional view. Conversely, there does seem to be something almost ruthlessly aggressive and pointlessly negative in the slashing attacks made upon the traditional view.^Nonetheless, setting aside these ex tremes on both sides, one senses that there was a positive passion on both sides. There was a positive desire to pre serve something on both sides— a positive desire of such breadth and depth that it led the scholars to go often fur ther than the evidence allowed. The accusation that the German side of the dispute was motivated by coldly anal ytical and scientific pursuits alone does not ring true. 207 As already noted, the adoption of the evidence indicating that the death of John had taken place early was accepted, and yet it was not sound. The German side, as much as the English side, was motivated by devotional reasons, by the desire to preserve as much as possible. There was an element of piety which took precedence DVer logic alone which characterized German research as well as English. One could argue that German scholarship had seen the proKtan of John far more clearly than had its English opponents. They had recognized in Germany that John did not agree with the synoptics, and no amount of exegetical gymnastics could make it agree. German scholarship had become convinced of an irreducible either-or. The differences which set John over against the synoptics had been clearly seen by German scholars, more clearly seen than was the case in England, where the apparently easier but eventually impossible route of harmonization was still being pursued.^ English theology, to a major extant, was and still is laboring under the illusion that John and the synoptics are able to stand side by side, convinced that the differences in the final analysis which exist between Johannine and synoptic traditions will yield to harmonization without radical surgery. By falling back on the twin hypotheses of variations within different streams of oral tradition, and on the supposition that there is no real conflict between 208 John and the synoptics which cannot be explained by the view that the two strains of tradition only complement each other, the one concentrating on Jesus' southern cam paign (John) and the other concentrating on His northern ministry (the synoptics), English theology proceeded on the conviction that it was fighting to preserve church tradition. In Germany, the suppositions were entirely other. It had become clear that the two strains of tradition were ir reconcilable. They could not be harmonized. The one thing which had brought down the scorn of radical scholarship upon the head of Renan was his attempt to harmonize the two traditions. Thus, there were, apparently, only two routes open. One was to adequately explain the reasons for the many and basic differences between John and the synoptics. Beyond the attempt at Windisch this was never done. The other route was to reject one tradition or the other. This is the route that was followed. It was the synoptics or John. That was the problem, the truth, which the con tinental scholars saw. And far better it was to reject John and preserve the synoptics than vice versa. Far better to preserve the major heritage of the church. Some thing had to be sacrificed, and it seemed the better road to preserve the larger part, letting the lesser fall away. It Is this which accounts for the fervor and almost evan- 209 gelistic zeal which characterized carman scholarship, often leading that scholarship into intemperate excess. The motive was positive— identical with that driving the Eng lish scholar forward— a positive motive of concern for church tradition, desirous of preserving as much as possible of that hallowed tradition. It was this same desire to preserve as much as possible (as we shall see later in this section) which later drove continental scholarship into its tortured pursuits of theories of redactionalism and par tition, Here too, there was a desire to find at least some part within the gospel of John which could be retained. By positing multiple authorship, or subsequent redactions, a key was sought which would unlock and separate the spurious from the sound. By claiming the existence of more than one author, at least part of the fourth gospel could be retained and that which came from a later author could be set aside. In summing up the way in which the evidence has been handled in the past, our main point is that there was a manifest lack of objectivity on both sides. Prior commit ments of devotion were at work on both sides, determining in advance the verdict which would be passed. We do not, of course, claim that we here will succeed where others have failed and that our conclusions will be objective, for we too have declared a position which we are concerned to strengthen. All that we do claim Is that when apologetic 210 motives, on both sides, are strioped away, the external evidence at worst is inconclusive and at best it yields a positive verdict in favor of Johannine authorship.^3But in no case can it be claimed that the external evidence proves beyond a shadow of reasonable doubt that John was not the author. There is. doubt involved. The testimony of Papias and that of Irenaeus is in conflict, but the wiser role of intelligent scholarship would appear to be to leave the case open. In examining the external evidence, it would seem that the real blow against the Johannine-apostolic author ship is not what Papias did or did not say, but rather this fact: if this gospel is truly the work of the apostle, why was it so long ignored? There is no way around the fact that the first unambiguous reference to this gospel is with Irenaeus, in the closing decades of the second century* Yet we have manuscript evidence of the existence of this gospel dating back a half century earlier I This is an in credible fact. The manuscript evidence antedates the literary references. If the gospel had been recognized as truly apostolic, why was it cast under a bushel? On the other hand, it would apoear that the real case in favor of Johannine-apostolic authorship is found not in the fact of Irenaeus' utterances but in a quite different fact: how could this gospel have been accepted at all if 211 were not apostolic? Here is a gospel which appears on the scene later than the synoptics. It contradicts those treasured synoptics on every conceivable point of substance. Its acceDtance by the church could only cause consternation and confusion, apparently setting the writings of the church one against the other during a time when unity, not diversity of views, was the sought goal. Despite these problems which it must have evoked, this gospel was ac cepted, and accepted all over the Christian world. How could this be, unless the church of that day was convinced that this new writing came equipped with indisputable credentials of authority?^ Again, we arrive at a point where the external evidence seems able to be taken in either direction, the only intelligent position being one of an open mind and suspended judgement. The case has not been proved. This by itself is not without its own importance, for in the light of the universal conviction of the early church of the book's apostolic authorship, challenged only by those who had obvious ulterior motives at work in their reasoning, it would seem that the burden of proof is upon those who would disprove Johannine authorship— a burden of proof not thus far furnished.^5we turn to the internal evidence. If the external evidence allows the view that the author was an eye-witness apostle, John son of Zebedee, the 212 internal evidence seems to demand such a view. There is in the first place the clear and explicit testimony of the text itself. It claims to be the work of an eye-witness. We are not speaking here of the relatively valueless in direct evidence such as casual time references, incidental p/T descriptions of persons, or geographical observations. These types of remarks are as easily explained as due to the dramatic powers of a good author, able to skillfully recreate a scene, as they are as evidence of eye-witness. They may be naive touches of an eye-witness, or they may be marks of high literary attainment. By themselves, they prove nothing. We are speaking instead of the unqualified claims of the text itself. Of primary importance in this resoect is John 19:35: o A oluCoo Co-'TfV' Kdit Ek£lVo$ o t6t v o cl <k\ 17 0*7 AejreCj IVcL k a l u ^ , t7 s JTLcrTE C t £* similar importance are those phrases re ferring to a beloved disciple who was present and observing what took place (John 13*23, 19*26, 20:2, 21:7, and 21:20) all of which must be read in the light of John 21 :2*+ which says O u r o s £ < ra is o r^r ^ s o /* T u p cS v n £ p i T'oTjT ^ v' O TalZrcLJ K<*L o c6+fA-ZV ott ocorow yf p*pZVf>lcL £<rC»V. It i3 true that the last half of the verse, with the plural occ $*/ *& 213 in it, could be claimed as the mark of a later editorial committee. However, basing oneself on the similar passage in John 1:1*+, the plural can equally be taken as a stylis tic idiosyncrasy of an individual author speaking for a group of eye-witnesses, the entire company of original dis ciples for whom he is but the mouthpiece. This seems verified by the explicit wording of the first half of the sentence, which insists not only that this disciple saw what is being witnessed to, but himself wrote down that witness.^ In the light of the unqualified claims it seems im possible to claim that the author is but an idealized per son— a nonexistent figure invented in order to serve as the spokesman for the faith of a community. He must have been a real, identifiable person, or at least he was intended to be taken as such. That leaves only two alternatives. He was a true figure, or else those who sought to pass him off as such were perpetrating a fraud. Between those two alter- pO natives wo do not hesitate to choose the former. Other answers which have been offered are not con vincing. For example, the attempt to set aside these verses as due to interpolation is on the one hand too obvious an attempt to set aside difficult passages through critical surgery, and, on the other hand, is part of a literary theory rapidly being abandoned. As we shall see, the trend today is, with few exceptions, to see this gospel as a 21 I f literary unity, up to and including the final chapter. Also being abandoned today is the argument of the past which held that this gospel was but one more example of a widespread literary practice of ascribing a writing to someone who did not in fact write it.^In Jewish literature the only parallel to this practice is the apocalyptic literature. Even here the parallel breaks down. Apocal yptic literature is not, as is this gospel, anonymous, but rather pseudonymous. The purposes for this pseudonymity are clear. Apocalyptic literature was written during a time of persecution, when lod's people were exposed to the attacks of enemies aiming at their extermination. In this setting, messages of hope, stories of how dod had defended His people in the past, were penned in order to assure the persecuted that even as Jod had defended His people in the past so also His help would be experienced in their present difficulty. In such a setting, a writing would be traced back to a hero long dead. This would allow the writing to get past enemy censorship, for the writing would be seen by outsiders not as a current statement of hope and optimism, but rather as an ancient writing of merely historical value. Further, by attributing the -work to an ancient hero of the faith, such as Daniel, or Baruch, or Moses, the primary motive was not to actually claim those men as authors— the average reader knew that such was not the case— but rather to underline the message of present com- 21 5 fort and assurance. Men knew that Daniel had indeed been preserved during the exile. Oral tradition told them that. He had triumphed due to his faithfulness. The writing of the book of Daniel during the time of Epiphanes was not designed to fool anyone into believing that Daniel of old had actually written the book. It was instead designed to assure the persecuted that the helping hand of Jod extended to the faithful of old could be depended upon by the faith ful in the present. The gospel of John comes out of an entirely different setting, and reflects a different goal. It is not, as far as we can tell, a product of persecution. And it is most obviously not, as already noted, pseudonymous. It is In stead anonymous, and this point alone suffices to place it in a literary genre different from apocalyptic. It does not claim some departed worthy as its source, and it does not simply hold up the timeless truth of assurance and comfort to those under fire. It claims instead to be a sober wit ness, by one who was there, to the life and deeds of Jesus. The truth of this gospel Is inseparable from that claim to be a trustworthy witness. Thus any attempt to weaken the claim that this Is an eye-witness account is inevitably linked to a disparagement of the integrity of the gospel it- self--a fact to which the entire history of radical critical views bears eloquent testimony. This, then, Is the first fact of the internal evidence. The book claims to be the work of an eye-witness. As to the rest of the internal evidence, Westcott's approach still remains the most satisfying. He placed the evidence in four concentric circles, moving from the outer periphery to the center: (1) the author was a Jew, (2) a Jew of Palestine, (3) a disciple, and (*+) a disciple named John.3° One of the most impressive trends of the past half century in Johannine studies has been the emergence of the conviction that the proper Heimat of this gospel is in Judaism.31 Earlier, certain phrases within the gospel were taken as evidence that the author either deliberately sun dered himself from Judaism or was ignorant of Judaism. For example, earlier, such phrases as "your law" or "the law of the Jews" were taken as indicating that the author himself was not a Jew, the law being something foreign to him. But it has since been recognized that . . . the object of these passages is not to condemn the law, but to show that the one authority which the Jews themselves recog nized condemned them. Indeed, in one of the passages (15*25) it is taken for granted that the words of the law must be fulfilled, and in another (10:35) it is assumed that "the Scripture cannot be broken." (89:*HU0 Ini the same way, the phrases referring to Caiaphas as "the high priest in that year" are no longer interpreted as indicating ignorance of Jewish custom. Holtzmann and Martineau simply assumed that this was an error, the author 217 mistakenly believing the post to be of a one year tenure whereas it was in fact a lifetime position. Now it is argued that that is not the meaning of the phrase at all; . . , many able commentators think that the words do not refer to a supposed annual tenure of office, but to the fact that "that year" stood out in John's memory as the one decisive year in his own and the world's history. (89*^37) Other studies have carried this idea forward, seeking to show that this gospel rather than being ignorant of or indifferent to Jewish institutions and customs instead shows profound respect for prevailing Jewish institutions, and is filled with phrases meaningful only to Jews. John, it is said, can be understood only when we recognize that basic terms and concepts within it find their sources in Judaism. Whereas Kittel forty years ago could deplore the scandalous neglect of Judaism as the proper background for the gospel, the balance has been more than redressed in recent studies and today we find scholars rejecting all attempts to find the background of this gospel anywhere else but in Judaism. Other scholars do not even debate the matter, simply assuming that only when the author is seen as Jewish do his thoughts unfold for the reader.^ The primary impetus behind this new look has no doubt coma from the language scholars, and we read increasingly that this gospel more than any other New Testament writing is Semitic in vocabulary and grammar. It is perhaps true that the pioneers in this field claimed too much in in- 218 sisting that John was originally written in Aramaic and our present gospel is but a translation. Nonetheless that which remains as an assured fact of contemporary scholar ship is the conviction that the author, no matter in which idiom he wrote. thought like a Jew,33 If Westcott's contention that the author was a Jew now seems vindicated, the same seems to be true of his view that the author was a Jew of Palestine. Here, much of the evidence has already been given in our discussions of Part One where we sought to show that the evangelist is able to correct toward history, revealing a greater awareness than we find in the synoptics of the historical scene at the time of Jesus. The third assertion, that this Jew of Palestine was also a disciple of Jesus, will stand or fall according to one's evaluation of the evidence given earlier that the author was an eye-witness. The final or inner concentric circle— the claim that this Jewish Palestinian disciple was John son of Zebedee— is the most difficult to prove on the basis of the internal evidence. Indeed, it cannot be proven conclusively for as we have noted the gospel is anonymous. In its own way, however, this anonymity becomes an indirect clue. The words of the Baptist, klK tiVO V S cl «.<*( <f£ S A oc r r o v crOaCL (John 3:30)» are more than words of the Baptist alone. They are a principle of the entire gospel. All those around Jesus are subordinated, reduced in stature Jesus alone is silhouetted and magnified. All others and everything else has meaning only in so far as and when they witness to Him. Nothing or no one is allowed to approach the level of Jesus. He alone is the revelation of God. This theological principle accounts for the strikingly unusual fact that on the one hand the author burns himself out of the narrative, never naming himself, and, on the other hand, insists that he was there and his words and ob servations are to be trusted. The author was present and serves as a witness. But he is only a witness and nothing more, thus his presence is not to intrude, and he remains unnamed. The same principle mouthed by the Baptist charac terizes the author— he must decrease. The author purposely covers his tracks, refusing to name himself. This, as said, is a negative clue. Taking into consideration two factors, namely, (l) the author insists that he was present and (2) he seems to deliberately efface himself, we can by the process of elimination— setting aside those who are named in the gospel— narrow down to a few the ones who could have written the gospel. Not Peter nor Philip, not Thomas nor Andrew, for they are all named. One notes a special reticence in respect to the sons of Zebedee.35 They are identified as present, but they are never iden tified by name as James and John (John 21:3). This same reticence appears in the first chapter. In John 1 we 220 read that Andrew "first found his brother." Textually, we are not sure whether the word ought be np&Tov' or rrjoeoTos, both readings having good credentials. If the second word is the correct one it may be taken to imply that after Andrew had found his brother the other disciple then found his. He therefore belonged to another pair of brother- disciples, and must have been one of the sons of Zebedee, James or John.^Thesa facts tend to narrow down the choice for the unnamed disciple to either James or John, and when it is recalled that this beloved disciple is repeatedly shown in the company of Peter (John 13J23-2l f, 18:15-16, 20:2-8), a fact probably to be read in the light of passages in Acts where Peter is shown in companionship with John (Acts 3;1f)j It seems reasonable to assume that the author is meant to be seen as John. The fact that this indepen dent examination of the internal evidence is verified by the external tradition of Johannine authorship must be given full weight. The traditional arguments against John as being the author— the John of the gospels was an un lettered man whereas our author is able to move in lofty Intellectual circles; John son of Zebedee was a hotheaded young man whereas our author was a benign man^ the apostle of love; the son of Zebedee was a lowly fisherman not likely to have friends in the high priestly circles of Jerusalem; no man would speak of himself as especially loved by Jesus— it must be confessed raise problems which 221 are not fully answerable. Nonetheless, it must be main tained that even if certain problems do remain once the fact of Johannine authorship is adopted, the problems would be even greater if Johannine authorship were denied. No alternative suggestion can be seen as more satisfactory. Other suggestions brought forth range all the way from the merely nebulous to the downright fantastic. All of them leave unanswered the enormous oroblem of how it could be that such a literary giant could produce such a theological masteroiece and yet have remained unknown, leaving no circles on the sea of life. The ancient primitive church wa9 not large in number and it was not greatly endowed with outstanding thinkers. It appears to us intellectually im possible to accept the view that all of the indicators of internal and external evidence are to be ruthlessly set aside in favor of the proposition that an unindentified, obscure, and unknown person could have written such a literary work without leaving behind any traces of his identity. When these staggering implications of the rejection of Johannine authorship come clear, it would seem impossible to continue in such a rejection^? One more bit of evidence remains to be examined— the recent discovery of the Dead Sea scrolls. Their discovery seems to be a factor which has strengthened all earlier in ternal and external evidence. On the one hand, there no longer is room for serious doubt concerning the fact that 222 Judaism is the true home of Johannine thought. Every sig nificant concept pervading Johannine thought has now been shown to have a parallel within Jewish literature. Even the form of exegesis practiced at Qumran seems to have been adopted by our author, and we no longer speak of John as an example of Midrashic exegesis but rather as a practicioner of the Pesher approach. Further, the historicity of the Johannine record, especially as it pertains to John the Baptist, seems to have been verified and vindicated.^And if this is true, then many independent strands of thought converge, for we argued a few pages earlier that John 1:^1 seemed to in dicate that our author was at one time a follower of John the Baptist before he became a disciple of Jesus (John 1 to be read in conjunction with 1:35). If there is any accuracy at all in this account (and there seems to be no reasonable ground for denying it) a large part of the back ground of this gospel suddenly surges forth out of shadowy tradition and assumes substance and form on the pages of history. We see that John as a young man was identified with John the Baptist. We know from the Dead Sea scrolls that John the Baptist can rightly be understood only as an Essene. Thus it is logical to assume that if John is the author of this gospel the gospel will reflect a strong strain of Essene thought and theology— a fact now verified. 223 The gospel must be approached, then, with two factors ever in front of us if we are to grasp its meaning. On the one hand, we must recognize that the thought world we meet within it can only be appreciated and understood when we set aside Greek philosophy, the mysteries, and Gnosticism as the bedrock of this book, looking instead to the theology of the scrolls as the proper background. How ever, on the other hand, we cannot goo too far in this direction, allowing the flush of recent discovery to carry h.p us to an extreme/ It must be recalled that this gospel, even though it finds its root in Essene thought, is a rejection of Essene thought, and this in a double sense. Firstly, John the Baotist himself obviously severed himself from the Essene community. Secondly, John the Baptist's disciole, John son of Zebedee, severed himself from John.^ The implications of these ideas will have to be worked out in Part Three. For the moment we conclude then in our evaluation of the internal and external evidence by in sisting that the preponderance of that evidence seems to indicate that the author was in fact John son of Zebedee. To make that statement is not to claim that all problems have now been resolved, for as we have seen such is not the case. But it is to claim that that conclusion does greater justice to the evidence than would any other. The author writes with authority, able to shape and transform 22* + synoptic narratives, moving away from history in order to bring out better the sense and true meaning of what took place— an action and attitude which indicates that the author is either deluded or else knows better than any earlier writer what took nlace. The external evidence while inconclusive at least allows the view that the author was John son of Zebedee, and no other candidate comes for ward with equally convincing credentials. The internal evidence indicates that the author was a Palestinian Jew at first a follower of the Baptist and later a disciple of Jesus. We have now argued that John son of Zebedee wrote the fourth gospel. But considerations of composition do not end there. Still to be asked are questions such as these. Did he write it all, or only a Vorlage? Or, if he did write it all, did he write it all as it now is, or was it extensively revised by a later editor or perhaps disarranged by a careless compiler? We have entered here into the com plex question of the theories of redaction, partition, and dislocation. Theories of partition claim that we have more than one source lying behind the gospel— independent sources which were woodenly laid down one alongside the other by a later editor who combined without overly integrating dis- 225 parate writings. The best literary parallel available is the Pentateuch. Here, different documents from different periods were sown together and the sutures still show. Theories of redaction differ from this in that these theories do not argue for independent documents woodenly laid side by side. Instead it is claimed that a later editor revised or edited, or redacted, the one basic document which he found before him, making changes in order, in wording, interpolating new thoughts into or excising old thoughts from the one basic document. Theories of displacement disagree from both of these in claiming not that one document was edited or revised, or several documents combined, but rather in claiming that the original writing was intentionally or accidentally cast in to a different order. It is not claimed that new words were added or old excised, but rather that the words al ready present were rearranged. It can be seen at a glance that these categories are not separated into watertight compartments, and it is possible to arrive at a multitude of additional theories combining ingredients of all three.^What concerns us im mediately is not the nature of these theories but their raison d’etre. All of them ware precipitated by one basic consideration. The text of John does not flow smoothly There seem to be ruptures In the narrative, and the events depicted do not unfold in natural order. Ideas In one part 226 of the gospel flatly contradict ideas in another part. The following examples are representative, not exhaustive. As to ruptures in the narrative, the most commonly cited example is the failure of the sixth chapter to flow smoothly out of the fifth. As is well known, chapter six opens with a reference to Jesus going to the "other side of the sea of Galilee," implying, of course, since He now goes to the other side, that earlier He had been on a different side. But earlier, in chapter five, He was not even near the sea, on either side, but was instead in Jerusalem. However, if we simply dropped chapter five out of the sequence, putting it after instead of before the sixth chapter, then the narrative would move more naturally for at the close of chapter four Jesus is indeed in Galilee (John which would allow Him to go to the "other side" of the sea (John 6:1). Later, He goes to Jerusalem (now, in this now order, John 5:1 would appear), and then once more returns to Galilee (John 7J1)* Sven this transposition of chapters, however, does not solve all of the problems of this section. Confusion within the nar rative yet remains. For example, Jesus is shown twice as ascending a mountain and no note is taken of Him descending (John 6:3, 15)- Further, in chapter seven, it has been argued that there would be a more natural progression of thought and action if 7*25f followed immediately upon 7*1^, the intervening verses being transferred to another place 227 within the gospel. A similar argument could be made for chapter three, where it seems that 3:31 ought follow upon 3:21, the intervening verses being removed. In like manner the entire block of chapters thirteen through seventeen have been disputed, the key verse being 1^:31. Ihe verse as it stands explicitly affirms a change of scene, and yet the succeeding verses continue with the same scene, un changed . As to contradictory ideas within the gosnel, the example most often cited is that of eschatology. Side by side with the futuristic eschatology seen unmistakably in John 5*28-29 (see also 6:^0, M+, 51 *, 1l:2^f, and 12:^), there is a strain of realized eschatology seen not only in John 3*18 where the judgement is brought Into the present, but seen also in that constantly repeated insistence that the final hour Is coming and "now is" (John *f:23, 5*25, 16:32, and 17:1). Other examples of contradiction within the gospel could include the high valuation placed upon the flesh of Jesus (John 6:53) laid alongside the disparagement of flesh (John 6:63), and the statement that Jesus was bap tizing (John 3:22, 26, **:1> laid alongside the denial that Jesus Himself baptized (John **:2). //hat is especially im portant, it is held, is that these contradictory thoughts almost always stand side by side (notice John 5*25 and 5*28-29, or 6:53 and 6:63, or *+:l and *+:2), indicating that 228 a redactor deliberately sought to negate, in the immediate context, an idea he found before him in the document he was re working.**6 Theories of displacement by themselves, it would ap pear, explain the rupture of sequence, and thus there was a time when they were greatly in vogue. However, such views seem to founder on at least three facts. Firstly, such theories, especially those which argue for a purely mechanical displacement resultant upon an accidental rearrangement of papyrus leaves, fails to account for the fact that all of the supposedly misplaced leaves seem to be complete in themselves. It would seem only reasonable to assume that if such an accidental dislocation had taken place at least occasionally one papyrus leaf would end in the middle of a sentence and a jarring rupture of not only sense but of grammar would call attention to itself .**?Also, the failure of the scholars to agree on what the original U) order might have been also discredits such theories/™Most significantlyr however, no theory of displacement by itself is able to deal with the second factor noted. That is, the ruptures in the narrative can perhaps be accounted for in this way, but not the contradictions within the text. The fact that, for example, futurist and realized eschatology can sit side by side seems to demand to the minds of many the existence of more than one hand at work, and thus theories of redaction and partition have held first place 229 place, more popular than those of dislocation. The most extensive and complicated of such theories is that of Rudolf Bultmann. His view is exceedingly difficult to summarize in a compact way because in his magesterial commentary he does not discuss his literary views in a connected manner, presenting it instead in piece meal fashion in the running commentary and in the footnotes of his work. His essential points seem to be based upon his conviction that there are at least four layers or literary sources in the gospel. First of all, he discovers in the prologue a Vorlage which the evangelist is said to have drawn from a written discourse employed at many points in the gospel^ Bultmann refers to this sources as the "revelation discourses" (Qffenbarungsreden). These dis courses are identified by their peculiar rhythmic structure, the Semitic cast of their language, and their mythical Gnostic motifs. Often these discourses served as preaching texts for the evangelist himself, thus both the texts and the preaching of the evangelist appear as the words of Jesus, and thus also the first and fourth layers flow to gether.^ The narrative portions and especially the miracle stories constitute the second layer, and these too, it is claimed, are drawn from a written source, the "semeia source."^Bultmann does not believe that the synoptics were known to or used by the final editor, and the parallels between John and the synoptics are explained as due to the 230 common employment of this source by both strains of tradition. The third layer comprises the passion and resurrection narratives, and once more the parallels between John and the synoptics are seen as due to their common em ployment of this written source.^ The fourth element in the gospel, not a "source" in the strict sense, is the work of the evangelist himself. This enigmatic figure is said to have been an adherent of a rival Baptist sect before he came over to Christianity, bringing with him the Offen- barungsrden and perhaps other Baptist tradition. Bultmann*s arguments, while impressive and persuasive, have not gone unchallenged. Chief among the purely literary arguments raised in protest are these. In the first place, it has apparently been convincingly shown that it is im possible to differentiate between sources. The same style of writing, the same key words and concepts, appear indis criminately in all the different layers. Further, in what is really but a variation of the same argument, it has been noted that even when the evangelist is working over known sources (the Old Testament) he so radically reworks those sources, casting them Into his own idiom and making them correspond to his own theological ideas, that it becomes impossible to reconstruct those sources unless we know in advance what they were. Thus to separate out into layers the materials of which we do npt have prior copies is dis missed as an exercise in creative ingenuity, and not a 231 serious scientific study.^ The arguments, however, which we find most convincing against the views of Bultmann are not those of a primarily literary nature but rather those of a historical and theological nature. We have already noted the objections raised by one of Bultmann's own students who claims that Bultmann has misunderstood the basic theological nature of the gospel and has shaped his literary views upon that misapprehension. To that objection and equally serious additional one can be raised, namely, Bultmann's views on Gnosticism. Basic to his entire structure is the unproved claim that Gnosticism preceded Christianity, and that the final form of this gospel was an adaptation of or reaction to this Mandaean Gnosticism. We find this claim untenable. All the evidence seems to indicate that the opposite is true. Christianity, rather than being a contemporary of and a consequence of the Gnostic movement, appears to us to have preceded Gnosticism. Gnosticism is not a root of Christianity but an outgrowth of it, a consequent develop ment of it, Christianity gone astray. A full discussion of this point of view will be given in Part Three. For the moment, resting our conclusions on evidence to be given later, we would argue that this point alone is sufficient to shatter the entire Bultmannian hypothesis.55 If Bultmann's redaction-partition hypothesis, the 232 most carefully documented and closely reasoned theory thus far put forth, falls to the ground, all other lesser forms of the same argument are similarly negated. As a result, contemporary theology is witnessing a fading of such ven tures. This fading is entirely understandable when one takes into consideration the fact that one of the key fac tors motivating many of the earlier redaction-partition theories was a conservative apologetic desire to at least salvage something of the fourth gospel— a practice which is no longer necessary in the light of the growing appreciation of the basic historicity of the gospel. At a time when the gospel was almost universally regarded as nonhistorical an attempt was made to separate out that which was apoarently secondary from at least a small core of legitimate and valuable material. But now that the belief that John em bodies historically trustworthy and early tradition is gaining ground, it seems unnecessary to seek out more than one hand, one to which the small kernel of valid material might be ascribed, and another (or others) to which the extraneous secondary material might be ascribed.^ Thus we see that an entirely new attitude is now being adopted in respect to the ruptures, dislocations, and apparent contradictions. It is being claimed with in creasing frequency that such ruptures and dislocations are due not to an unfortunate displacement of leaves nor due to the uninspired work of a secondary editor, but are instead 233 products of the pen of the original evangelist. By con centrating on these interruptions of narrative, we have, it is said, misunderstood the purpose of the author. He was not concerned with chronology, historical sequence, or continuity in a modern sense. To seek: for the same and to impose such views on the author is to read back into his purposes modern desires. The author simply was not con cerned with such problems. He was dominated by theological interests, not chronological or topograohical ones. The words of Clement are once more enthusiastically quoted. Hera was a writer who was not concerned with the physical facts of Jesus' life, but rather with the inherent meaning of those facts. And if a rearrangement of those physical facts would yield up a clearer picture of the meaning of those facts, the author did not hesitate to make such changes. Knowing that the synoptics were circulated, read, and digested, the author was freed from the necessity of constructing a chronologically connected scheme of the life of Jesus. He could instead concentrate on drawing out the inner significance of that life, all else being of lesser importance. The gospel remains, then, a closed book to all but those who approach it theologically. To insist, in an author dominated by such a purpose, on a smoothly flowing topographically or historically consistent narrative is to render comprehension impossible.^ If the author's purpose can go a long way in ex 23^ plaining the narrative dislocations, the same can be said of the author*s literary style. We are dealing with a man whose style is circular, repltitive. The analogy of a spiral staircase is not entirely inappropriate. The author examines an idea or motif, shedding light on it, only to set it aside, treating another idea which incidentally sheds light on an earlier idea, and then returns to that same motif. He mounts to ever new heights, seeing the same truths from altering perspectives. Thus the ruptures and the breaks are accounted for. They are not due to a con fusion of leaves nor a displacement of paragraphs, but due instead to the literary pattern of the author. His work is a literary unity. One part must be read in the light of another part, and each part must be read in the light of the whole. An idea can be abandoned while it is only par tially developed because he intends to come back to it. Seeds are sown in one part of the dialogue or narrative which flower in another portion. In chapter one, Jesus is identified as the irlamb of God who takes away the sins of the world." Chapter six must be understood with that in mind. The reader, like the author, must be looking forward and backward in chapter six. He must be looking backward to the words of the Baptist, the announcement that Jesus will die as the lamb. He must be looking forward to the passion story and its insistence that Jesus dies at the very hour that the paschal lamb, the lamb of God, is put 23? to death. That is what sheds light on and makes sense of the otherwise apparently insignificant remark of John 6:^- that the great bread of life discourse was delivered at Passover time. It is not at all an insignificant remark— it is a link in a chain, one more spiral in the ascending circular argument. It is the conviction that Jesus, the trU9 lamb of lod, who will die at the very hour of the pas chal sacrifice, will furnish life through His death, and that His body will be the sustenance upon which men live. In the same manner, the words in the Nicodemus context in sisting that one must be born from above (John 3*3)> that only he can ascend into heaven who has first descended from heaven (3*13), and the insistence that in being "lifted up" the son of man gives life (3:1*+), all must be read for full comprehension in the light of the discourses of the last supoer. There, on the eve of being "lifted up" Jesus on the one hand states that He is returning to the Father, that is, ascending to the place from which He had earlier des cended (see John 1*+:28, 16:5» and 16:28), and this departure of His is to their advantage for then the Spirit will come (John 17*7)5 ^or ^ Spirit which enables a man to be born anew (John 3s?)* The imagery of the Spirit and the ascending and descending of Jesus is different from the imagery of the paschal lamb, but the thought is the same, namely, it is in the person of Jesus that life is to be had, and it is in His death and ascension that that life becomes 236 a reality. These motifs are not discussed exhaustively in any one exclusive portion of the gospel, but instead con stitute continuing themes picked up and examined and laid aside only to be returned to from an altered perspective. The circular style alone is largely sufficient, then, to explain the breaks in the development, and there is no need to resort to theories of displacement. It is not that there are double documents in front of us, but rather that we are confronted by an author with double meanings to his words, and no one discussion is sufficient to exhaust his meaning.^ The double meanings within the author's words are seen in more restricted passages such as John 11:^9-52 or 18:31, or 19*15 or 18:28, or in the word ft<po< * > . In all of these instances and in countless others there are levels of meaning facing each other with profound irony. Caiaphas the oractical realist summarizes the necessity of Jesus’ death from the purely practical, political, and expedient point of view. It is better that one man should die that others might live. By sacrificing Jesus, Roman reaction will be avoided and the nation spared. But this purely political advice becomes a summary, uncomprehended even by the speaker, of the vicarious and redemptive nature of the death of Jesus. In John 18:31 the Jews announce that it is not lawful for them to put Jesus to death. Time is wasted in seeking historical evidence for or against this remark, for the author's meaning is not historical nor legal but theological— they do not have the right to put Jesus to death, for He is the innocent lamb of Cod and no one takes His life from Him. He Himself lays it down of His own will (John 10:18), and thus the Jewish trial closes with no verdict at all being given and the Roman trial's verdict is summarized by Pilate who repeatedly announces Jesus as innocent. The irony of John 19*1? and 18:28 is apparent. They claim to be Jews, sons of Abraham (John 8:33, 39), and yet they insist upon denouncing the Old Testament hope of a Messiah, insisting that they have no king but Caesar. They seek out life in Moses' writings (John 5*39) and they follow the precepts of purification and uncleanness (John 18:28) at the very moment in which they demand the death of Him unto whom Moses bore witness (John $ : k 6). Indeed they are blind (John 9*1 K)-i fl). The sudden unexplained arrival of the Pharisees in John 9*^0 is not evidence of dis placement or historical confusion, but is instead a product of the theological motivation of the author. These pieces of discussion are not to be read in isolated compartments, but are all part of the ironic, circular style of the author. The rejection of any king other than Caesar in the nineteenth chapter is linked to the futility of the older views of purification and defilement indicated in John 18:28, which in turn were prepared for in chapter five, and indeed as far back as chapter two where it is noted that 238 the Jewish rites of purification (John 2:6) failed to give wine, and the temple is rejected as the place where men meet God (a motif picked up again the story of the Samaritan woman). It is only in Jesus that men meat God, and this when He is “lifted up.'1 Any attemnt, then, to rearrange John into a more logical historical or chronological order Is foredoomed to failure for it does not recognize the es sentially theological thrust of this writing.^ John wrote this gospel, then, in its entirety, and his circular style and theological motivation go far in ex plaining the narrative breaks we have seen. One more idea must be stated. Though ha wrote it all, it does not seem that he wrote It all at one time. The repeated argument that the finished gospel as we have it is a collection of writings, including a series of sermons, is not to be easily set aside.^A strong argument can be made, for example, for the view that the author wrote more than one treatise on the same subject and then laid them side by side in the finished work, making no attempt to harmonize them his torically. Thus perhaps one can explain the varying ac counts of the resurrection found in chapters twenty and twenty-one. No consideration of these chapters can be con sidered as complete which fails to take into consideration two basic facts. One is the stylistic unity of the two chapters, and the other is the utter lack of consecutiveness between them. These two facts, polar opposites, are easily 239 explained if one is willing to concede that what we have are two separate meditations on the meaning of the resur rection of Jesus. If one is willing to admit that the basic concern of John is not to communicate history but theology then the two chapters can be allowed to stand to gether. Ascending his spiral staircase, John has looked at the resurrection from different perspectives. Each of the two perspectives are theologically valid, and thus the two stories, though clashing in detail, are placed together. fhe failure of chapters thirteen through seventeen to stand as a cohesive whole as they now are can also be ex plained by the hypothesis that what we have here is not one basic writing but a series of sermons dealing with the same theme later, after their separate composition, laid side by side. It is even possible to venture the hypothesis (ad mittedly only that--a speculative hypothesis) that at least parts of the gospel were originally written not as sermons or homilies but as drama designed to be acted out. It is true that drama was not an art form congenial to the Jewish mind, and we have argued that this gospel has a markedly Semitic caste, but that does not exhaust the matter. It is not for nothing that past scholarship argued that this work is hellenistic in its thought. We have already noted that one of the most impressive arguments against the apos- tolicity of this gospel is the fact that the manuscript 2U0 evidence precedes any evidence of its being quoted. It was not until later, when the church became Greek, that the gospel became popular. It is at least possible to main tain that while the gospel was written by a Jew, John son of Zebedee, years of living in a hellenistic environment had taken their toll and consciously or unconsciously, though he wrote in a markedly Semitic manner, he had be come permeated by Greek thought, The evidence for this as sertion must wail until Part Three, but for the moment it must be noted that this would explain on the one hand the Semitic language, and, on the other hand, the fact that only the later Greek church seemed able to appreciate and thus quote from this gospel. If there Is any validity to this line of reasoning, then it is not impossible to assume that John even though a Jew could adopt drama as a literary form. It is chapter nine especially which is open to such a view. In writing for the stage, a conversation which takes place in one scene, if it is to be reported to characters in an other scene, must be repeated in full. Unlike in writing, no simple summary statement can be made assarting that that which was said earlier was now repeated. The stage demands that the dialogue actually be repeated. This is precisely what we find in chapter nine. When the blind man made seeing tells the Pharisees what earlier occurred, Jesus* actions of John 926 are not simply referred to but actually repeated in full, and this not once but twice (John 9*11 2M and 9:15)* because two different sets of people are being told what happened, first neighbors and then Pharisees. It is at least possible, then, since this gospel here and elsewhere reflects characteristics of drama, that at least parts of it were originally prepared as drama. But, be that as it may, the circularity of style, the repititive nature of the discourses, and the way basic themes are dropped only to be picked up again from another perspective, all indicate that the gospel was not written as a con secutive document. On the other hand, the unity of style and the consistent insistence upon the same essential truths all point to only one author, The most satisfying solution would seem to be the view that we have a body of writings prepared at different points in his life by John son of Zebedee. These writings were then worked together by him into one final document. Thus both the writing and the rewriting or editing are the work of the same hand.^3 Such a solution, we would maintain, is the only one that holds together in tension all of the factors thus far noted such as a unity of style and a lack of consecutive development. When these factors are examined in the light of the author's theological motivation, we have sufficient explanation of the dislocations, and there is no need to resort to theories of dislocation. But while such a theory explains amply the facts lying behind displacement theories, there remains yet unex 2b2 plained the supposed contradictions of ideas within the gospel. How do we account for the fact that in one place the flesh is affirmed, and in another disparaged? Or that eschatology is at one time futurist, and at another place realized? Here we have entered upon something which is more theological taan literary in nature, and thus must be discussed later, in Part Three. For the moment, we note only this. John was writing with a theological motive in mind, and not historical. To this must be added the fur ther fact that he was writing with more than one theological motive. Here is found one of the wrong assumptions upon which much of past exegesis has been grounded. All too often the motivation of John has been reduced to one sole aim. Some claim that the gospel was a missionary tract, others insist that it was a polemic aimed against the Jews. Yet others see it as an apologetic addressed to Rome, while still others claim that it is aimed not at those outside the church at all, but aimed instead at those within the church. Some see it as addressed to Greeks, others to Jews. Earlier scholars saw the work as informed by the mystery religions, and others argued that it was a reaction against 61+ sacramentalism. None of these statements is true by itself. John is writing on more than one front. No one specific motivation is sufficient in itself to serve as a summary for all the aims of this gospel. The author is attacking many problems. 2b3 There is, as we shall see, an element of truth lying behind all of the claims put forth on behalf of the author's motivation. He is both anti-semitic and yet convinced that salvation is of the Jews. He is both sacramental and yet opposed to a magical or mechanical view of sacrament. He is apologetic, polemical, and evangelistic, as well as didactic. There were many problems facing the early church, not just one, and a mind as rich and perceptive as was the mind of our evangelist was not content to dwell Dn only one of those many problems facing the church.^This fact too accounts for the lack of consecutiveness within the gospel, but even more it accounts for the presence of many of the contradictions which are found within the gospel. Evidence for the fact that John fights on more than one front, and as a result says things which taken woodenly seem to oppose one another, will be given later. We close by noting that the one thing which ties these many and varied problems together is the fact that the synoptic gospels are powerless to deal with those problems, and indeed have in places produced those problems. The milieu of the church had changed. New situations had arisen, which had no answer given to them by the earlier gospels, or had answers given which created the possibility of grave misunderstanding. John took up the pen not only to answer new problems, but also to preserve the earlier gospels. As they stood, the synoptic gospels could not survive. They were incomplete, 2¥f inadequate, and misleading. If the treasured literary heritage of the church was to be preserved and made relevant, it demanded explication, complementary infor mation, and a new perspective of comprehension. This John son of Zebedee resolved to provide. This is why his final writing product took the form not of occasional writings but instead the form of a gospel. It needed not to be consecutive or complete, for such an account was already at hand, but it did need to be a gospel, for it was the gospels themselves which were in danger of being lost. 2k 5 REFERENCES TO PART TWO 1. /on Hugel, In his famous article (2^5)» refers to this “sovereign sense of superiority," but he traces it back not to a disciple-author, but sees it instead as the expression of faith of a community, thus denying Johannine authorship. So powerful was this article that Sanday confesses it caused him to abandon at the end of his life the long-treasured conviction of apos tolic authorship (202:61). Bacon also remarks that the author is "amazingly bold" and shows "sovereign disregard for the Petrine tradition" but Bacon traces this back to the fact that the Petrine tradition had not yet really established it self when the Hellenist traditions were being formed (11:156-57). Schmiedel says it is not boldness at all but carelessness, or ignorance (210:82-83,11*+). Hoskyns sees the issue more clearly, linking this sense of freedom toward the synoptics to the personal authority of the author: "The Fourth Gospel was not written merely because its author had something to say, but because he possessed the necessary1 authority to de mand a hearing" (121:87). Hoskyns, with that, at least leaves the door open to apostolic authorship, for who but an apostle would possess such "necessary authority"? Sanday (201:14-3-4-4,179) and Drummond (89*232) had ear lier gone through that door, both insisting that this sense of authority could be traced back only to an apostle. Howard acknowledges this sense of authority, but sees it as derivative (123:232). Goodwin (107). Freed also has a study of Old Tes tament quotations in John (99), the purpose of which is fourfold: to study the passages in the light of the whole gospel; to determine whether the quotations came from the Hebrew or the LXX text; to compare John's usage of Old Testament and synoptic quotations; and to deter mine whether John used Testiraonia. Lindar's work (1 57) has a narrower purpose— to determine the extent of pesher-type exegesis done by John. Barrett too remarks the fact that John rarely quotes the Old Testament, but, like Goodwin, goes on to insist that this indicates not indifference but memori zation, Barrett going on to insist that the author was apparently saturated with Old Testament thought (13:22, 24—25). At least one author has made John's awareness of the Old Testament the point of departure for an ex- citing and creative book, Guilding (113). (107*70-71). Freed insists on the same truth (99*19,88). (86*79,139). Freed insists that "in no other writer are the Old Testament quotations so carefully woven into the context" as in John. This is so, he insists, because John's thelogical motives "were his primary concern" leading him to make a "creative use" of Old Testament passages (99*129). Barrett sees much of John as discourses built on synoptic sayings (13!l5)» and this is what G. i t f . F. Smith means when he insists that it is "below the sur face" that we find the clearest evidence of John's use and knowledge of Mark (220:139). Hoskyns too sees John as a form of Midrash on the synoptics (121*7^-75,186-88, 3*+0). Higgins furnishes two pages of passages where there is no verbal correspondence with the synoptics but where it nevertheless seems clear that John is com menting on the synoptics (117*68-69). Howard actually writes: "an 'inspired Targurn*. . . That is what the Fourth Gospel is" (123*226). Easton calls John's sto ries "homilies" on the synoptic text (91*61), and Bacon uses the term "Midrash" as a "characteristic of the Elder's use of synoptic tradition" (11*189). “The author or the Fourth Gospel bears witness. He insists with the whole power of his being that what he records is what actually occurred." (121:17) It does not, however, follow that all that is written is necessarily factual, thus Hoskyns continues! '.'But. and this is the problem of the Fourth Gospel, the author has so pre sented the 'sensible' history of Jesus that his readers are confronted in that history and precisely there with what is beyond time and beyond visible occur rence." (121:17) History has become the handmaiden of theology. See Hoskyns (121 :1 +6,810 , Golwell-Titus (61:19), and Sanday (201:210-11,233). Sanday (201:169), Sanders (205:33)* We are ar guing that interpretation, authorship, and authority are all inseparable. Thus we find near incredible a remark of Dr. Barrett's: "Dr. Rudolf Bultmann's commentary is beyond question one of the greatest achievements of biblical scholarship in the present generation. The value of his commentary is almost completely independent of the validity of his lit erary hypothesis." (13:vii) Far more penetrating is the view of Bultmann's own student, Kasemann, who argues that Bultmann's literary views have led him to obscure and misunder stand the theology of the gospel. In a review of Bultmann's book (136) and in a series of later arti cles (137 and 138), Kasemann argues that the leitmotiv 2^9 of the whole gospel is the glorious presence and activ ity of God on earth in the person of Jesus Christ. The character of the incarnation is the core thought. By ascribing prologue verses 1 *+—18 to the Vorlaga, Bultmann is in effect sundering the evangelist from the main theme of the gospell This thought spreads out in every direction, K&semann claims, for if verses 1 — 18 can be reclaimed for the evangelist, so also could Jesus' speeches be expressions of his Christo- logy and not part of the Offensbarungreden. We too, from another direction, are convinced that Bultmann's literary views have affected his theo logical evaluation of this gospel, but this must wait until later for exposition. 10. For surveys of the debate, Bacon (10), Howard (123), Menoud (168). Schmiedel (210) is a classic rep resentative of the radical approach, while Lagrange (1^8) is an excellent summary of the conservative posi tion. D. Moody Smith's article (222) not only brings the literary survey up to date, but also reveals Germany's continuing preoccupation with sources and literary problems. ' Robinson's remark that: ". . . the effect of reading too much on the fourth gospel is to make one feel either that everything has been said about it that conceivably could be said or that it really doesn*t matter what one says, for one is just as likely to be right as anyone else." (196:120) makes one hesitate to treat the issue at all* Barrett writes that it is a "moral certainty" that John son of Zebedee was not the author, but recently scholars such as Green-Armytage (10*+), H. E. Edwards (92), and R. A. Edwards (93) have argued otherwise. On the first point, Howard (123*228-29), Scott (218:9), and Bernard (2*+: I,xlix-xlxx). Robinson summarizes the position (191*96), On the late dating, Schmiedel finds a reference to the 3ar Cocheba revolt in John 5*^3 (210:200-01). On the third point, Scott (218:10). Bacon*s title itself trumpets the conviction of Greek proven ance: The Gospel of the Hellenist. Dodd continues to look in Greek thought for the background of the gos pel. See Hoskyns* summary (121:23). On the supposedly unhistorical character, see Hoskyn's subchapter entitled "The Critical Orthodoxy." As to date, the Rylands Papyrus *+57* published by C. H. Roberts, containing John 18:31-33 and 18:37- 38, and Egerton 2, published by Bell and Skeat (21), have been dated on paleographical grounds as not later than A. D. 150, and perhaps are older even than that. Egerton 2's significance is discussed by Barrett who concludes that it proves that John was known in Egypt "at least ten or twenty years before the middle of the second century" (13*92-93). Olmstead O 78) goes too far in trying to push the date back to A. D. ifO. It would appear that the terminus post auem would be A. D. 85-90 when Rabbi Simeon the Less drew up the Test Bene diction, and the terminus ante auem would be the dat ing of P52, A. D. 150, and probably twenty to thirty years before that. Vfe are inclined to accept Dodd's date of "not far from 100, rather before than after," As reasonable (86:*f21 +). As to the Jewishness of the gospel, Guilding's (113) first sentence of her preface: "This book is an attempt to assess the relation of the Fourth Gospel to the ancient Palestinian synagogue lectionary system:" indicates the new climate. Howard (123*7) and Scott (218:6) agree that the external evidence is indecisive. Polycrates1 witness, preserved in Eusebius H. E. iii.31, Is independent, but his reference to John wearing a 7T£Tct-Xoy only confuses the issue. The Muratorian fragment Is late and of a legendary air, and is usually dismissed as a late Roman "imprimatur." Sanders (203) gives a full listing of allusions to John in the apostolic writers, apologists, and Gnostics, and Drummond (89:85) has an extended discus sion of the influence of John on Justin. Sanday (201i2 b $ i2 b 6 ) claims to find Johannine phrases both in 252 the Dldache and in Ignatius, and Streeter too (232) in sists that Ignatius was profoundly influenced by John, a thought also found in Bernard (,2b:I,lxxii)• But all of these leave unanswered the question of why, if Ignatius knew the book, he failed to explicitly refer to it and call it an apostolic writing, a point raised by Barrett (13*85)* Howard is correct in noting that it is only with Irenaeus that we have at last our first indisputable and unambiguous witness to John (123:7). There ap pears to be no doubt in Irenaeus' mind that John was indeed the author and wrote while living in Ephesus (89*73). Schmiedel agrees that the book was written in Ephesus, but will not concede Johannine authorship, insisting that the apostle John never lived there (210* 179). Bacon insists that ap. John ever lived in Ephesus (11:*+ 1), Stanton arguing to the contrary, ob serving that the belief in an Asiatic residence of John went unchallenged even when three different here sies (Gnosticism, Quartodecimanism, and the views of the Alogi) would have found it to their advantage to deny such a residence. Barrett reminds us, however* **Only one piece of evidence for the Ephesian residence of John can be found which antedates Irenaeus. This is the Acts of John, written by Leucius Charinus, probably about 150-160 A. D. • . .legendary and fantastic in style.'1 (13*86) The pertinent texts of Irenaeus are found in Contra Haereses III.l and III.iii.M- (the latter re peated in part in II.xxii.5) and read:in parts "John the disciple of the Lord, who also reclined on his brdast. he it is who gave out the gospel, living on in Ephesus of Asia." Eusebius preserves Irenaeus' famous letter to Florinus, H. E. v.20, which reads in parts "For while I was still a boy I knew you in lower Asia in Polycarp1s house, when you were a man of rank in the royal hall, and trying to stand well with him. I remember the events of these days more clearly than those which happened recently. . . so that I can speak of the place where the blessed Polycarp sat and disputed. . . how he reported his intercourse with John and with the others who had seen the Lord, how he remembered their words." Sanders denies that Irenaeus meant John son of Zebedee, noting that he never explicitly named the beloved disciple as such (201 +:77,79 and 206:83). We concur with KUmmel who insists that "there can be no doubt that Irenaeus meant by this disciple of the Lord John the son of Zebedee" (1^6:169). Preserved for us in Eusebius H. E. iii.39. Eusebius, of course, clearly states that there were two Johns (H. E. iii.39.6), but he is not an in dependent witness, basing his views only on a reading of Papias. However, most scholars (3ernard, MacGregor, Drummond, Schmiedel, and others) tend to agree with him. Bernard, even though agreeing, raises a flag of caution* "No writer for a hundred years after Papias seems to have supported the tradition that more than one John had to be reckoned with. Dionyius of Alexandria distinguished two Johns, but he reached this conclusion on critical grounds, as a modern scholar would do." (2^*1,liv) Barrett evaluates the two groups referred to by Papias as follows: "There were, first, the apostles. . . John and others; and there were, sec ondly, Aristion. . • and the Elder John. This latter group was valued because it was the source of infor mation concerning the former. It is clear that Papias stood at several removes from the apostles." (13*^9) The last sentence is exceedingly important for Barrett as it throws serious doubt on the testimony of Irenaeus (see following Note). "Irenaeus (Haer.V- ,33,3,if; partly also in Eus. HE III.39.1) names 'the presbyters who have seen John, the disciple of the Lord,' side by side with 'Papias, the hearer of John and companion of Polycarp.'" (1^-6:170) As to the view that Papias was not only a hearer of Irenaeus but even his amanuensis, we read in a Latin preface to John, found in a tenth century Bible at Toledo that: 255 "This Gospel, it is manifest, was written after the Apocalypse, and was given to the churches in Asia by John while he was yet in the body; as Papias, Bishop of Hierapolis, a disciple of John and dear to him, related in his Ebcoterica. at the end of the five books, viz, he who wrote this Gospel at John's dic tation." This same thought is found in a Greek catena of a much later date. This evidence is examined and pro nounced correct by deBruyne (77)* but Barrett insists that the texts are too late and legendary to be ac cepted as legitimate (13:96). As to the hurling of accusations, Fritz Barth calls Papias "credulous" insisting that to call on him is to "light up the dark from the darker" (18:26). Drummond says even Eusebius had a "low judgement" of Papias' intellectual qualities (89:196). On the other hand, Schmiedel not only calls Irenaeus mistaken, but depicts him as a senile old man in his dotage (210:195) while Barrett, kindlier but equally firmly, also calls Irenaeus mistaken (13:88), as does MacGregor (162: lviii). Irenaeus has found defenders in Burney who calls Eusebius, not Irenaeus, the blunderer who rais- constructed Papias' evidence ( s 1 !+1); in Drummond (89:3!+ 8); and in Sanday (201:60-62). It is not just the two major figures, Irenaeus and Papias, whose integrity has been assailed. Howard speaks of the confusion of Polycrates (123:230), and Schmiedel calls Clement ''credulous'1 because he dared to accept John as the author (210:196). The "evidence" indicating the early death of John is laid out by Schwartz (212) ana is threefold. Firstly, there are two texts purporting to trace back to Papias. The DeBoor fragment, a seventh or eighth century manuscript at Oxford giving an Epitome of the History of Philip of Side (c.*+50) says: "Papias in the second book says that John the theologian and James his brother were killed by the J ews." Also, the Chronicle of Jeorge the Sinner, ninth century, states on the authority of Papias, that John son of Zebedee: "... had been deemed worthy of martyrdom, for Papias, in the second book of the Dominical Oracles affirms that he was slain by the Jews." The second bit of evidence is an old Syriac calendar of martyrs which raads in part that on December 27 "James and John, at Jerusalem." This evi dence is strengthened by the Calendar of Carthage, A. D. 505, which reads in part "S. Iohannis Baptistae et Jacobi apostoli quem Herodes occidet" for the same date, December 27. The third evidence cited is Mark 10:35, Jesus' prediction that James and John would die as martyrs. 257 The weaknesses of this evidence have often been noted. Bernard insists that the Epitomiser had no authority other than Eusebius, and yet Eusebius with a much fuller collection of Papias* works available to him, knew nothing of such a martyrdom. Further, Philip has an anachronism, calling John '*the theologian." Bernard concludes, taking other things too into con sideration, that Philip "was a blunderer" and there is no critical merit in accepting as valid the work of "a careless and blundering historian" (2*+: I,xlii-xliii) • The calendars are also rejected, Bernard noting that it is not said whether "they were 'red* martyrs or no" (2*+:I,xliii-xliv) . The two calendars do not agree with each other, nor are they correct as they stand. The Syriac states that the two were killed by "the Jews" but James in fact was slain by Herod Agrippa I. The Carthaginian does name Herod as the slayer, but names John not as son of Zebedee, but as the Baptist I Mark 10:35 is valueless to all but proponents of a verbal inspiration theory* While many scholars have accepted this evidence (Schwartz, Wellhausen, Schmiedel, Moffatt, Bacon, Burkitt, MacGregor, to name a few), the prevailing opinion is in the other direction, well summarized by Barrett: "We cannot martyr the apostle for our con 19. 20. 258 venience in handling critical problems" (13*87)• See also Sanders (20^:76) and Dodd (86:12), the latter in sisting that the whole theory of John's martyrdom is built on "the flimsiest evidence." Bacon (11:11,3*+) and Schmiedel (210:177) are guilty of gross self-deception if not downright dis honesty when they speak of "a considerable body of in dependent and diverse forms of evidence" proving the death of John, without indicating just how weak that evidence is. Sanday notes how critical scholars have elsewhere strained out gnats only to hear swallow camels in accepting this "evidence" (201:30), a thought repeated, equally sarcastically, by Charnwood (58*35). Hoskyns, in his chapter entitled "The Critical Orthodoxy," insists that the one thing uniting such men as Strauss, Bruno Bauer, F. G. Baur, Schwegler, Julicha; H^ville, Holtzmann, anc Loisy was their denial of Johannine authorship and their denial, growing out of that, of any historical value to the book. Such, at least, is the way Sanday saw it, insis ting that English and American scholars "want to keep the faith" whereas in Germany "the would give prece dence to the scientific method" being "essentially aca demic" (201:**8). Hoskyns too defines English scholar ship as being, at least in the eyes of the continentals, "insular, provincial, traditional, Patristic, and apol- 259 ogetic" (121*35). See also Howard (123:89-90). 21. On Sanday, see Note 70 Part One above. On the critical side, Bacon's polemical phrases in his pre face sound more like a brief for the prosection than of the scholar or historian (I1:viii). 22. Hoskyns (121:39). 23. Higgins seems to say that the traditional evi dence probably has a sound historical anchor (117:19), and Dodd too considers that at least on the face of it "the external evidence for the apostle John son of Zebedee as author of the Fourth Gospel is relatively strong" and not to be quickly set aside (86:11-12). 2 b , Fritz Barth (18:19), Sanday (201:238), and Drummond (89:3^9) all call attention to the universal acceptance of the gospel as apostolic in the second half of the second century, despite the problems that such an acceptance would provoke. Sanday, in another place, makes a convincing point: "Imagine this solid mass suddenly thrust into the course of events as Schmiedel would say somewhere about the year 1^0, between Basilides and Valentinus and their disciples, as it were, under the very eyes of Polycarp and Anicetus and Justin and Tatian, without making so much as a ripple on the surface. Of course nothing can be simpler than to say that the author of the Gospel Is unknown; but the moment we come to close quarters with the statement, and realize what it means, we perceive its difficulty." (201:256) 25. Drummond (89:79-80). Sanday claims that these asides indicate the observations of an eye-witness (201:82-83,87), but we have already noted that most of these apparently cas ual observations occur in places where no eye-witness could possibly have been present. Barrett insists that all the phrase may mean is that the witness "caused these things to be written," thus making the witness derivative (13:100). Sanders insists that the author must be "intrin sically identifiable" and that if he is only an ideal ized figure the gospel's claim to being based on an eye-witness report is a "mere deception" (20*+: 7U-, 81-82). Barth argues similarly (18:11,1*0. Dodd also concludes that there is "no reasonable way of avoiding the conclusion" that the author "formally affirms that the testimony is genuine," ending by insisting that he "could not have expressed himself more emphatically or unequivocally" (86:13*f). Such is the route taken by Schmiedel (210:183) and MacGregor (I62:lxxii), but their form of argument is rejected by Harnack (201:*f 3). Westcott (2**7:v-xxi), called by Hoskyns "the classic English commentary" (121:** 1). Robinson (192:109). On the points raised in this paragraph, see Dodd (86:2*f,312), Daube (72M 38), U. E. Simon (219: 98-99)* and G-. D. Kilpatrick (l^OsSS-Vj). Kilpatrick insists in his article, apparently in direct opposi tion to Dodd, that "the Hermetica are no proper part of John," supporting the statement with a statistical study of words alpha through delta as they appear in John, the LXX, and the Hermetica, This might be a misrepresentation of Dodd, who, though leaning on the Hermetica, nevertheless does insist that John "never strays from the Jewish into the-Greek field of mean ing" (85*76). Hugo Odeberg's massive work (177) is probably the most impressive and thorough argument for the "Jewishness" of John. Schlatter's works (207 and 208) pioneered in this area, he claiming that the author was bilingual, writing in Greek letters but in Aramaic idiom. Burney argued, apparently without knowledge of Schlatter’s works, that our present gospel is a translation of an Aramaic original (51)* an argument accepted and carried forward by G. C. Torrey (2V| , 2**2, and 2h-3) . Basic to the claims of both men was the insistence that we have evidences of mistranslations (i. e. John 1^*31* Torrey claiming that the difficult phrase probably read in the Aramaic original "I will no longer speak much with you"). Few scholars have gone all the way with Burney and Torrey, Matthew Black's work (25) being a halfway point. Barrett probably represents the majority view of contemporary scholarship when he insists that John neither wrote in Aramaic nor translated from an Aramaic original, but was "accustomed to think and speak in Aramaic as well as in Jreek" (13:11). So also Bultmann (**2:11,10), Dodd (SS:^1 *), and Howard (123: 12). The failure of the theory of an Aramaic original is due to three factors: the failure of its proponents to agree on precisely where the supposed mistransla tions are to be found; the fact that the author shows greater affinity for the LXX than for the Hebrew text; and the fact that apparently no Aramaic writings were being produced in the period under question. On these three points, see Freed (99:126,128) and Albright (6: 155). Robinson (191:98-99), Higgins (117:18), and Dodd (86:**26). Before the discovery of the Scrolls and fif teen years before the appearance of his commentary, Bultmann was already claiming a Palestinian origin for much of the Johannine material (*+9). Barrett goes his own independent way, agreeing that the author was a Jew, but insisting that he did not have "a first-hand knowledge of conditions in Palestine in the time of Jesus" (13:101). Amos Hulen (125*157)* Barrett (131:151)* On the points raised in this paragraph, Bacon (11:31), Schmiedel (210:188), and Dodd (86:15), all insist that unlettered John a fisherman could not have written such a learned book. True, Acts U:13 says he is unlearned in rabbinic lore, but to stretch that to mean he is both illiterate and ignorant is going too far. Sanders claims no fisherman would be known to the high priest (206:80). But what of Polycrates1 remark that John wore the petalon of the priesthood? The question is at least open. Barrett (13*99), MacGregor (l62:xlvii), and Schmiedel (210:180) all object to the author calling himself 1lbeloved, , but Evans (97*69) answers by insist ing that the title reveals humility rather than pride, the author acknowledging his own great need to be loved. All alternative suggestions as to authorship create more problems than they solve. Colwell-Titus1 view that the author was but an ideal figure (61:60), we have already rejected. Bousset*s view, not far re moved from Barrett*s, that the writing was perhaps the product of a school and not an individual, indicates that neither man ever served on an academic committee. 26*f Sanders' view that tha beloved disciple was Lazarus is brilliantly argued but unconvincing. He solves the problem of two Johns only to replace it with the prob lem of two Marks (206:8?). Bacon's theories (which include the proposal that the Apocalyptist was Philip's daughter I) are even less tenable. Delff, in a theory cautiously adopted by Sanday and MacGregor, held that the beloved disciple was a supernumerary whom Jesus admitted to a peculiar intim acy in the closing period of His ministry. While this avoids the extremely speculative nature of Sanders' and Bacon's views, it leaves untouched the problem of how such a man could end up totally unknown. Barrett writes: 'The evangelist, perhaps the greatest theolo gian in all the history of our church, was now for gotten" (13:11^0. Does this pose no problem for Barrett? It does for me! To accept that demands a measure of credulity far exceeding anything needed to endorse the traditional view. This same kind of argu ment destroys even the possibility of maintaining a derivative authority or authorship. Why is there, if the author was but a recorder of some one else's views, no tradition in existence to that effect, as there is concerning Mark's relation to Peter? Even Tertius has his name remembered I Drummond's words, though now a half century old, 265 still ring truei "Now, if the Fourth Gospel appeared for the first time towards the close of Polycarp's life, is it probable that he and his contemporaries would have re ceived it without any misgivings as a genuine work of the Apostle's? If they had misgivings, is It likely that these misgivings would have left no trace in the subsequent literature? If they ac cepted it without doubt, would they not at least have had to pass some sort of literary judgement upon it, and explain why, in spite of its appearing half a century late, they still believed it to be John's, and would it not have become impossible for their pupils to suppose that it had been published by John him self? If, to escape from these diffi culties we resort to the extravagant hypothesis that it appeared for the first time after the death of Polycarp, then is it probable that Irenaeus could suppose that a book which had never been heard of when he was a youth had been in current use throughout the whole of the century? Further. I think we may safely say that we know that the book was not written by any of the eminent men of the second century whose names have been pre served; certainly none whose works have survived were capable of writing it. Is it then likely that there lived and died among them, completely unknown, a man who throughout the century had absolutely no competitor In the wealth, originality, and depth of his genius, and this at a time when the struggling Church required all her ablest men to come to the front? And if an author possessing this spiritual stature had issued his anonymous book, is It credible that he would have allowed it to be received and circulated as the work of the Apostle, and thus have practised an enormous deception upon the Church?" (89*192-93) 38* The literature on the scrolls is already large, but some of the articles and books most significant 266 for our purposes include the brilliant articles by K. G. Kuhn (1M+ and 1^5), Mowry (173)» Braun (32), Riecke (187), Coppens (63)1 and E« K. Lee (1 51 ) • Kuhn, who began with a position close to Bultmann's, claiming that John was strongly influenced by Gnostic thought, changed his mind on the basis of the scrolls, insist ing that the dualism of the two thought worlds, Qumran and Gnosticism, is vastly different, and that John is closest to Qumran (so also E. K, Lee). Some scholars reject the influence of Qumran on John. So, Kummel (1^6:157)* and Barrett, whose remark in his preface to his commentary was called "hardly credible" by W. D. Davies (7^*98). Dodd too minimizes the importance of Qumran for John, calling F. G. Grant forward as aid (86:15-16). However, scholars such as Brownlee insist that Qumran furnishes the best available background we have for John, the Dead Sea scrolls "illuminating almost everything" (38:122-23). So also Cullmann, who writes that John "belongs to an ideological atmosphere most closely related to that of the new texts," Qumran ap pearing to be "the earth In which the Fourth Gospel plunges its roots" (69:25-26). See also Kuhn who says the texts at Qumran shed enormous light on many diffi cult passages in John (1^2:97 and 1^3:69). J. A. T. Robinson, writing almost completely in italics, ada- mantly Insists that the scrolls give us for the first time the fundamental and actual background of the dis tinctive categories of John (191*99)# So also Higgins (117:16-17). The list could be extended al most indefinitely. As to a Pesher form of exegesis, it is the claim of Lindars (157)» G* W* F* Smith (220), and Freed (99) that John makes abundant use of the method. Brownlee (39*50) and Robinson (191*101). Howton (121 +i227), Robinson (191*101), and R. E. Brown (35*207). Brownlee says "John lived among the Essenes" (38*113 and 39*35)* So also Robinson (193*11)? Danidlou (71*15), and Robert-Feuillet (l88*61 *6-1 +7) . Rowley vigorously opposes such a view as resting "on no tangible evidence whatsoever" (198:230-31), as does Kummel (1^:1 57). W. D. Davies raises the caution flag (75*182), as does R. E. Brown in the article following Davies* in Stendlahl's collection of essays. So also Albright (6: 170). Robinson, having said that John was reared by Essenes, continues: "it Is equally clear that when John re-emerges into history he is not a member of Qumran," the connection having been broken (193*12-13). The subject is too vast to be treated exhaustive ly here. Spitta argued for a basic Grundschrift going bade to the apostle John, of greater historical value than the synoptics, reworked by a later editor who both dimmed the Jewishness of Jesus and softened the escha- tology of Jesus, He was also one of the first to ar gue for a mechanical dislocation. Counting words and spaces, he came to the conclusion that the leaves had been pasted together, fell loose, and were put back in the wrong order. The discovery of the Sinaitic Syriac version of the gospels seemed to corroborate his trans positions in a startling way, Wendt insisted on a two-document base, stressing less than Spitta the idea of dislocation (some see in Wendt the seeds of Bultmann's semeia-source concept). Bacon was a revisionist, seeing three editors at work, each adding as he edited. The first editor con centrated on the Jewish feasts (paving the way for Guilding?), while the final editor was the one who iden tified the author with the beloved disciple, seeking in this way to give the gospel apostolic status thus making it acceptable outside Asia, Bernard apoears from his commentary to be almost exclusively of the (displacement school, as is MacGregor, Warburton Lewis is the one who, in English 269 scholarship, pursued most relentlessly the theory of accidental displacement, taking over and carrying on many of Spitta's views. Moffatt, however, was the one who took the subject from the study to the street with his transposed translation of the New Testament. Eduard Schwartz, on the other hand paid scant heed to displacement theories and stressed instead re daction as the key to the ruptures in thought. Wellhausen (as could be expected) used the theory of partition and multiple sources which he had so bril liantly employed on the Pentateuch. Heitmuller was far more cautious than his German colleagues, insisting that the present gospel argued for a "unity of design" indicating that, if there were sources, the final editor had soldered them together so well they were no longer visible. Counter-writings (Zahn, C. R. Gregory, Bernhard Weiss, Heinrich Appel) were being written, but they were distinctly in the minority. Some of the literature giving a survey of this vast field includes Bousset (30), Bacon (10), Sanday (201), and Howard (123). Howard's work has the added value of giving two extensive appendixes, one listing many of the major redaction-partition theories, the other the leading displacement theories. Also, Noack 270 (17^), Ruckstuhl (199), Schweizer (216), Menoud (168), and recent articles such as Parker's (179), and Smith's (222), which is a condensation of his book ( 2 2 1) . *+5. Bacon says that Strauss' famous "seamless coat" also has a "warp and a woof and a tasselled fringe"! k 6 . See Note 7, Part One, where Bultmann sets aside all futurist eschatological references as interpola tions of a redactor. b7. Schmiedel (210:76). Bacon, however, claims that the dislocations were covered over by a redactor (11: 116). *+8. Colwell-Titus (61:70), MacSregor ( 162: x1) , and Howard (123*97). ^9. (¥f:*f,n.5). 50. (M+*93>. 51. (M«78). 52. 1+89-90). 53. (M+:76). 5^. D. M. Smith (221) advances five arguments against Bultmann, though he too agrees that the work was not originally a unity. Robinson (196) challenges Bultmann's view of the prologue, recalling Harnack's position that the prologue was more a postscript, though written by the same hand. 271 Schwelzer (216) compiled a list of thirty- three frequently recurring Johannine stylistic charac teristics and showed that they appear at random, in all the hypothetical sources, thus denying that the gospel could be divided out into separate sources. Ruckstuhl (199) expanded the list to fifty, with much the same results. The stylistic unity of the gospel is no prob lem if one holds that the present gospel Is but a translation of an Aramaic original. Bultmann, however, rejected that, thus ha replied to his critics by say ing that the final editor was influenced by the liter ary style of the material in front of him, taking it up as his own (so also Bacon). To that, Noack replied simply that such explanations only served to indicate how unsure was the ground being covered. Barrett, perhaps typical of English scholarship as a whole, rejects all theories of redaction, parti tion, and displacement, insisting that the gospel is a unity and concluding that "it was not for nothing that the image of the 'seamless robe* was applied by Strauss to the gospel" (13*17-20). Streeter's words, however, remain classic: "If the sources have undergone any thing like the amount of amplification, excision, rearrangement, and adaptation which the theory postulates, then the critic's pretence that he can unravel the process is grotesque. As well hope to start with a string of sausages and reconstruct the pig," (232:377) To this, one could add Parker1s comment: "It looks as though, if the author of the fourth gospel used documentary sources, he wrote them all himself" (179*30*0 • For Kasemann's criticism of Bultmann, Note 9 above. As to the lateness of Mandaean Gnosticism, Dodd writes that the "compilation of the Mandaean Can on cannot be dated much, if at all, before A. D. 700." He insists that if there is any literary tie between John and Mandaeanism, the direction is other than what Bultmann proposes, going from John to the Mandaean literature. This, because the Mandaean literature has the air of "fantasy and fairy-tale," and is devoid of historical worth, indicating its lateness (85*115-23), On the fading out of source theories: Robinson (191*97), On the desire of these theories to retain as much as possible of John: MacGregor insists these theories were undertaken in "the desire to rescue some preferred element" (162:xl); Howard insists that Wendt, Spitta, Weisse, and Schweizer "were moved by a desire to save as much Johannine material as possible" (123* 95); Dodd say s exac11y the same thing (86:3)• Barrett (13*1l **19), Dodd (86:10 and 85:289-90), Hoskyns (121:17,278,*f08), Colwell-Titus (61:66,69), 273 and Drummond (89sl+07-08). One of the most recent ahd most thorough attempts to explain John in exclusively theological, as opposed to chronological or historical terms, is that of Guilding (113). Her basic thesis is that the whole gospel is a homiletical commentary on the Palestinian lectionary system. Time in the gospel follows the three-year lectionary system, hence in John a three- year ministry of Jesus with each of the Jewish feasts being treated three times (113:2-3). The gospel is tripartite, chapters 1-^, 6-12, and 13-21, each part recapitulating the other two. She finds striking par allels in these three parts to support the thesis (113s *t9-50). The strengths of this book are many. It empha sizes the gospel's Jewishness, the subordination of the miracles to the words of Jesus, the author's in difference to chronology per se. the author's theolog ical motivation, and the circular style of the book. But there are also some weaknesses. Her entire argu ment rests on an inverted pyramid, the debated question of whether there even was a Jewish lectionary system in use when John wrote. Further, if John is based on a three-year cycle, it would seem to follow that John too is to be read snippet by snippet. Guilding con cedes this is not so, but she does not give the point ample consideration (113s57)* She also seems unable to decide whether the author followed the Nisan or the Tishri lectionary cycle. On the author's repititive or circular style, see Barrett (13:5), Dodd (86:152), Hoskyns (121 :*+8,66), Colwell-Titus (61:52-53)i and Lindars (158*25-26). It is this repititive style which accounts for the similarity of dialogue, no matter who the speaker. The author imposed not only his ideas but also his style on the speakers, and this is why it is often impossible to determine where one speaker's words end and another's begin. In the speeches of Jesus, we see a threefold pattern* a dialogue; misunderstanding of Jesus by His hearers (Nicodemus, the Samaritan woman, the disciples, etc.); then a monologue by Jesus. The hearers' misunderstanding is but a foil, allowing the author to create this monologue. On this point, see Schmiedel (210*if5,7l +-77), Colwell-Titus (61 s I +. 3-M+) , and Bernard (2Ln*I,cxi) . On the basic unity of all the discourses, see Ho skyns (121* 203). As to irony and double meanings, see Colwell- Titus (61*Mf), Schmiedel (210*7^), and Scott (217*23). Hoskyns insists that it is a continuing charac teristic of this gospel that different speakers in the gospel express truth unknowingly (121:358,I K)1,523). So also Bultmann (*+21II,^7). Barrett (13:17*20), Sanders (205J32), and Robinson (196:120). R. E. Brown presents a similar argument in re spect to the fourteenth and fifteenth chapters, claim ing that they are ‘ 'duplicate forms of the same basic discourse" (37:115)* Some of the scholars who insist on seeing in John the marks of a dramatist include Colwell-Titus who call the book "a work of complex art" and insist that it is "highly dramatic in character," claiming that it has "the unreality of the stage" (61 56-58,131), and MacGregor who calls it, in italics, "a drama" (I62:xxii-xxiii). See also Bacon (11:V10), and Scott (217;16,22), the latter likening it to "the sim plicity of Greek tragedy." Moore speaks of the "au thor's high sense of drama" (170:85), and Dodd sug gests that on occasion the author uses the dramatist's device of flashbacks (86:82), elsewhere also using the language of the stage, as in the water into wine where Dodd says that the "miracle itself takes place off stage so to speak" (86:22^0. See also the very title of Strachan's book (230). Others who have likened John to drama include D. A. Hayes (116), Julicher (132), and Charnwood (58). The most complete attempt to parallel John to a dramatist belongs to C. Milo Connick, who actually calls John "a dramatist," and remarks how all the char acteristics of the stage appear in this gospel (62i 159-68). Surprisingly, however, Connick refuses to follow to the end his own line of thought, concluding that while "its dramatic character is undeniable" the gospel "cannot be regarded as a drama because it was not written for the stage" (62:169). This does not preclude, of course, the use of an amanuensis. At the risk of sounding facetious, is it possible that the difficult line of John 1*+:31 is not at all a mark of dislocation, but an error of the amanuensis? Could the old man John have said to the scribe "Hise, let us go hence"— that is, "Let us break briefly from our labors and stretch our legs"— only to have this personal aside preserved in his narrative? It would not be the first time a scribe nodded. On other points in the paragraph, Howard insists that there are many indications that the original au thor was himself the final editor (123*119). Wilkens (2*+9) insists that the evangelist reworked his own do cument no less than three times, an argument anticipa ted a quarter of a century ago by Dibelius (83). D. M. Smith has a similar view. Though he believes in the existence of separate sources, he insists that the present text "is the result of the author's own re vising and editing" (222:3*+ 7). Colwell-Titus insist that the work "is an evan gel, a gospel, not an apology" (61:150). That is, it is aimed at those outside the church, though they do not define the audience more specifically. Moore (172) argues that the author's evangel is aimed at both pagans and Jews, a view also held by Dodd (85:8). Scott, however, says the audience is only Creek (217* 353)i but Robinson (192:121) and 3owker (31) claim the audience to be Jewish. Others, agreeing that the gospel is aimed at those outside the church, will not agree that its pur pose is evangelistic. Baldensperger (12) sees it as a polemic against the Baptist sect, while Hoskyns, Freed, Bacon, and to an extent Barrett also, see it as an attempt to blame the Jews for Jesus' crucifixion, exculpating the Romans in the process— hence it is both polemical and apologetic. See for example Bacon (11:226) or Hoskyns (121:521). Yet another group of scholars sees the gospel as aimed at those inside the church: so MacGregor (162: xxvii), and Howard (123:9). Of all the views advanced, the least satisfac tory is that of Barrett who insists: ' ’His gospel must be written: it was no concern of his whether it was also read" (13:115). There are many influences at work on John, Hoskyns, for example, as we have noted, finds the Bib lical world to be the gospel's proper background, while Dodd turns to the Hermetic literature. Far more per ceptive than either (who are both right in part) is Higgins who finds both influences at work, "influences which cannot be isolated in water-tight compartments" (117:1 5). There are also many motives at work in John. Lindars insists we may find polemics, apologetics, and catechetical instruction, as well as evangelism in the gospel (158:23). It is this variety of motivation which accounts for the contradictory strains of ideas running throughout the gospel. No writer has more con sistently noted this multiplicity of motivation with its consequent confusion and contradiction of thought than has E. F, Scott. He sees the gospel in one place as "speculation," in another as a "manual of practical religion;" in one place "a vindication of historical facts," in another "a bold attempt to explain them away" (217;10). He even describes the gospel as this 279 "union of opposites," noting how in one place man is free, yet elsewhere helpless, of realized and futurist eschatology laid side by side, and of the presence of both sacramental and anti-sacramental positions. Here Scott has tapped an exceedingly rich lode of Johannine thought, but he fails to carry through with his own in sight. Kather than clearly seeing this as due to John's attacking of many problems, on both sides. Scott ends up by dismissing these contradictions as nothing more than "John's inability to form a coherent whole out of his thought" (217:9-10). This is not true. It is not inability nor con fusion which cause these contradictions, but the fact that John often must both affirm and re-interpret older views, must often combat extremists of both di rections within and without the church. To this we return in Part Three. 280 PART THREE Detailed Examination of and Explanation of some of the Johannine- Synoptic Differences One of the major Johannine-synoptic differences is the role of John the Baptist. No longer is he a person in his own right, bursting forth in the wilderness as a com pelling preacher of repentance and righteousness. Instead, he exists solely as a witness to Jesus, pointing to Him as the lamb of Jod. He is, further, a self-effacing witness, denying any importance to himself beyond that witness. His words that he must decrease summarize the fourth gospel's evaluation of him."* It is true that there is an element of self-negation even in the older gospels. We read of John's insistence that there is one coming after him whose sandals he is un worthy of untieing (Mark 1:7)* It is also true that in the older gospels John fails to identify explicitly this coming mightier one as Jesus. On the contrary, he sends to Jesus asking if Jesus is that coming one or if he is to look for 281 another (Matt.11:3). Further, in the preceding gospels John receives the highest commendation from Jesus (Matt. 11:11), and Jesus Himself insists that John16 baptism was from God (Mark 11i30f). Indeed, this is the difference between the synoptics and the fourth gospel— in the former Jesus witnesses to John, in the latter John to Jesus. So insignificant is John the Baptist in the fourth gospel, beyond his role as witness to Jesus, that even his death, so dramatically recounted in the first gospel, is not told. Though the element of self-negation is found in the oldest, as well as in the final, gospel, the difference is quan titatively so great as to become qualitative. Not only is the Baptist's death ignored in John, but also even his entry intb prison. This event, so significant in the earlier gospels as the event which precipitated the preaching of Jesus, is not discussed. Or, to be more exact, it is remarked negatively in John 3*2^, where it is said that '*not yet" had John been emprisoned. After that, the actual arrest and emprisonment are never mentioned. Other differences flow out of this. As noted, in the synoptics it is the arrest of John which marks the begin ning of Jesus1 ministry, the works of the two men being successive. In John, their ministries are simultaneous. Their ministries are also similar, the two men doing the same thing. Only in the fourth gospel are we told that 282 Jesus baptized even as did John (John 3*22, ^:1), with this significant difference: Jesus was more successful than John, making more disciples, and winning over John's own disciples (John V:1 , 1:37). This, rather than provoking John to envy, wins John's approval, and it is this which brings forth the words of John that he must decrease and Jesus increase. Hearing that "all are going to him" John insists that this is the way he wishes it, for he himself had testified to the Christ (John 3J26, 28). Indeed, it was John's own witness which had led his own discioles to abandon him and follow Jesus (John 1:35-37). An even more significant difference between the two accounts is the total suppression in John of the one act which justified the Baptist's existence in the earlier accounts— his baptism of Jesus. The baptism of Jesus by John seems to be alluded to in the fourth gospel (John 1:33), but the actual act of Jesus submitting to John is refused an accounting. Linked to all these differences is yet another— that of the southern ministry of Jesus. He replaces John in the south, taking over the very sites where John himself had earlier worked, the land of Judaea (John 3:22). Of such a southern ministry, the synoptics know nothing. Since the days of Baldensperger it has become cus tomary to see this deflation of John as part of a polemic 283 aimed at a sect based upon the teachings of John, Acts 18:25 and 19:1-6 seem to indicate the existence of a rival religion competing with Christianity, and Baldensperger ar gued that it was this competition between the two which led to the disparagement of John found in the fourth gospel. It is perhaps true that Baldensperger overworked his thesis seeing this tension as not simply one motive among others at work in this gospel, but rather seeing it as the one key to the writing. Even If overworked, however, the essential correctness of at least part of Baldensperger*s claims seems to be beyond refute.^ There was this rival religion at work and they had a powerful propaganda weapon in their hands. They could point to the fact that Jesus had prostrated Himself before John and claim that, in that, Jesus had recognized John's sup remacy. Further, the very fact that Jesus had submitted to John's baptism sharply underlined Jesus' humanity. Mark 1 :*f says that John's rite was one of repentance for forgive ness of sins. By the very fact of Jesus* self-presentation it could be concluded that Jesus was conscious of the need for forgiveness, a true human being weighed down with a sense of guilt from which He needed cleansing. Thus, from a double avenue of approach, the superiority of the Baptist sect over the emerging Christian religion could be main tained. Firstly, the founder of Christianity had Himself 28*+ recogiiized John's superiority. Secondly, the Christian claim that Jesus was true God was seriously undermined, for this "true God" was a man like unto any other, seeking the cleansing from sin available in John's sacrament. The oldest gospel was peculiarly exposed on these points. In the first place, in the Mark 11:30 context John's baptism is adamantly defended by Jesus Himself as an act stemming from God, and nowhere in that first gospel is John disparaged or his status reduced. In the second place, it is in that oldest gospel that Jesus denies being good, insisting that such an attribute belongs to God only (Mark 10:17-18). Such a remark could only underline the in sistence that Jesus was not divine. Further, we have al ready noted that Mark was open to an adootionist inter pretation. The way the text stands, with no virgin birth narrative, with a complete ignoring of the first thirty of Jesus' years, with the heavenly voice speaking directly to Jesus only in the second person at the baptism, it could be argued that before the baptism by John Jesus was but an or dinary man. All of these things lie in the background ready at hand to the purposes of a rival religion built upon John's teaching. There is a disparagement of Jesus, by Jesus Him self, denying being good. There is praise for John, by Jesus Himself, insisting that John's baptism is of God. These two are welded into one in the apparent fact that it 285 was John1s act which gave importance to Jesus. Only after the baptism is Jesus the son of God. The other synoptic gospels were conscious of these problems.3 We have already argued that both Matthew and Luke sought to rule out adoptionism by adding the virgin birth tales. This fact alone, of course, would not only reduce the importance of John's baptism (now it could no longer be maintained that it was John's act which gave status to Jesus), but it would also reduce the possibility of seeing Jesus as mere man. Matthew seems especially con- sciousof this need to deny the extreme humanity of Jesus, reflected in the fact that He was conscious of guilt and in need of cleansing. In Matthew the line of Mark in which Jesus denies being good is drastically altered. In Matt. 19^17 Jesus says, "Why do you ask me about what is good?" This change no longer shows Jesus repudiating for Himself the characteristic. Also in Matthew, the description of John's baptism as one of repentance for the forgiveness of sins, a phrase so important for Mark in the description of John's work, disappears from its important position only to reappear in a far less significant way. In Matt.3*6 con fession of sins has lost its prerequisite role and appears as a secondary thing. In the Jordan they were baptized, "confessing their sins." The implication of the way the phrase is recast is that some confess their sins while 286 others do not. That is, there might be another reason for submitting to John's baptism other than a personal sense of need for forgiveness. This fact seems to be underlined in Matthew's telling of the conversation beween Jesus and John. In Matt.3s 1 i 5 John would have prevented Jesus from being baptized, and consents to perform the act only when Jesus assures him that He wishes to be baptized not for personal cleansing but that all righteousness might be ful filled. This conversation is further marked by the fact that John explicitly acknowledges the superiority of Jesus over himself, a fact nowhere noted by Mark. And yet in other places as well Matthew seems to be struggling to cor rect misinterpretations which could grow out of Mark. The unqualified praise of Jesus for John seen in Mark 1l:30f is now qualified. It is true that Matt.11:11 insists that of those born of woman there is none greater than John the Baptist— high praise indeed— but the sentence is not ended until it is sharply maintained that as great as John is, the least significant follower of Jesus is greater. To return to the conversation between Jesus and John in Matt.3• 1 * - • — 1 5, it must be noted that not only is Jesus' superiority over John affirmed by both men, but also a reason for Jesus' baptism is given. The phrase that all righteousness is to be fulfilled is, admittedly, vague and ambiguous. One thing is clear and another possible. First, it is clear that Jesus does not go there for personal cleansing. .fay then does He go? It is that which is vague, but it is at least possible to argue that the ancient traditional interpretation— that Jesus went to be baptized not for His own sins but for the sins of others and thus at this moment for the first time Identifies Himself as the savior whose vicarious suffering will make expiation for others— is not entirely absent from Matthew's mind. It is Matthew alone who includes in his telling of the last sup per those words where Jesus speaks of His blood as being "poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins" (Matt. 26:28, the phrase being absent in Mark 1^:2*+, Luke 22:17*^18, and I Cor.11:25). It is at least possible to maintain that Matthew alone was concerned with explicitly developing a doctrine of vicarious expiation, and that the seeds of such a doctrine are therefore to be found in the ambiguous phrase of Matt.3:1J+-15- Here Jesus goes to be baptized not for personal guilt, but rather to identify Himself with sin ful humanity, thus at the baptism He assumes implicitly the role of sin-bearer. But the route followed by Matthew had not been pur sued far enough. Despite his corrections and ameliorations. It was still possible for an agile exegete of a rival religion to point to the writings of the church and make a strong case for the superiority of John and the humanity of 288 Jesus. The door was still open to an adoptionist view based on the virgin birth story rather than on the baptism, and while this would lessen the significance of the Baptist it would not entirely end that significance. It is in this context that the fourth gospel is written. It remained for John not only to lower the significance of the work of the Baptist, but to set It aside completely. It is no accident of context that the Baptist is mentioned in the prologue only after the pre-existent divinity of Jesus has been firmly underlined. Those references in John 1:6-7 are not interpolations into an independent hymn but rather are an integral part of the thought and theology of this gospel. All adoptionist theories are roundly rejected, the humanity of Jesus sharply reduced, and John the Baptist is called forth not as the one who baptised Jesus thus conferring divine status on Him but only as a witness to the glory of Jesus. In line with this, the tendency to regard closely the humanity of Jesus is rejected. A direct line can be seen linking together Mark 10:17, Matt.19s17, and John S:^. No longer does Jesus reject the appellation "good" but in direct opposition insists upon His own sinlessness: "Which of you convicts me of sin?" In other ways as well John can be seen following the route laid out by Matthew who sought to correct Mark but had not succeeded. The superiority of Jesus over John had 289 been indicated in K att.S sl^-l 5 and 11:11, but the claim had not been made sufficiently emphatic. In John that claim is absolutely and unmistakably clear. It is not only that the Baptist exists solely as a witness to Jesus, although that of course is highly pertinent, but the superiority of Jesus over John is emphasized In the fact that anything that John does Jesus does better. Jesus never did in fact baptize anyone.^ The author himself avows that: ‘ 'although Jesus himself did not baptize, but only his disciples" (John 1 +:2). Those words are not a radacttonal gloss Inserted by a later editor, but are instead part of the original book. The aside is intended to underline for the mentally slower reader the fact that the earlier references to Jesus' bap tizing are not to be taken literally. If the lines were an attempt at correction by a later editor, surely the easier route would have been to suppress the earlier statements. But those earlier statements are allowed to stand alongside the qualifying remark that Jesus did not baptize. The pur pose, then, to repeat, of John bs2 was to remind the reader that what was being communicated was not to be taken literally as historical truth but rather figuratively as theological truth. That truth was, simply, anything that John could do, Jesus did better. The one thing for which John was remembered was his baptizing. Indeed, so impor tant was his function that it became part of his name— John 290 the Baptizer. Yet, precisely there, in the area where John excelled, Jesus surpassed him making more disciples. It is the superiority of Jesus which is the critical thought--the nonhistorical references to Jesus actually baptizing are but scaffolding upon which that theological thought of Jesus' supremacy could be displayed. This superiority of Jesus over John, or to phrase it conversely, this Inferiority of John to Jesus, is made ver bal and explicit and put upon the lips of John himself in the line already noted, "He must increase, but I must decrease," As noted, when the disciples of John are alarmed at the superior success of Jesus, John himself applauds.^ The inferiority of John is further underlined in that John himself admits that he by himself was lacking supernatural insight and was not even able to recognize Jesus without divine assistance (John 1:33)* a phrase which cannot be read apart from the contrasting truth, repeated throughout the length of the gospel that Jesus of Himself knew all things (John 2:25* 6:6, 18:1 * e_t aL). John, then, is denied all independent existexice. He is only a forerunner, only a witness, and this totally subordinate role is made clear by John himself. When the Jews send to him asking who he is he adamantly insists that he is not the Christ. Indeed, he is not even Elijah (John 1:20-21). Even that, though acknowledged by no less than Jesus Himself in an earlier gospel (Mark 9*13, Matt.11:1, 291 is now too high an accolade of praise. John the Baotist is only a signpost pointing away from himself, only a witness, only a light illuminating the way to another. Always in this gospel he points in only one direction— away from him self and unto Jesus, and everything and anything which would ascribe to him any personal significance at all, such as the lofty title of Elijah, must be stripped away.^ The total reduction of John is perhaps most clearly seen in the fact that in this gospel the only time that Jesus mentions him is solely to underline the nature Df John as a witness to Jesus (John 5*3°-37). Beyond that one reference to John by Jesus there is not a single word any where of Jesus speaking about John. Unqualified insistence that John's baptism is of Jod, found in Mark 11:30, is gone. The qualified praise of John by Jesus in Matt.11:11 is gone. So sharp is this fact that the careful reader must finally be amazed at the astounding fact that nowhere in this book does Jesus ever even converse with the Baptist I Unlike Luke, where the two are related, unlike even Matthew where the two cordially converse, this gospel refuses to even allow Jesus to speak to John. Beyond the reference of John 5*30-37 where Jesus insists upon John's subordinate role of witness, there is no intercourse between them. John is not even shown the dignity of an audience. It is only in John that Jesus does not see the Baptist, for all that can be concluded from John 5*30-37 is that Jesus had heard of him, 292 that and nothing more. John is only a witness. A witness to what? Twice the gospel gives its answer: a witness to the fact that Jesus is the lamb of uod who takes away the sins of the world (John 1:29 and 1:36). It is possible that here again the fourth gospel is picking up and expanding seed thoughts sown by Matthew. We noted that perhaps Matthew's ambiguous phrase about Jesus being baptized to fulfill all righteous ness is related to an undeveloped but implied doctrine of vicarious expiation. It is precisely that which John develops. From the outset of this gospel Jesus is shown as one who is to die for sin, even as the Old Testament lamb died for sin. By putting this identification into the mouth of the Baptist and putting it there early John does two things. Firstly, the final blow is struck against the claims of any rival religion— John the Baptist himself is shown as acknowledging Jesus as savior, a fact which denies any religious significance to a rival faith. Secondly, by putting the identification early, the sovereign supremacy of Jesus is accented. In direct contrast to the Baptist who knows nothing by himself, the reader knows from the out set that Jesus is to die. And the reader is constantly reminded that not only does Jesus know that He is to die, but Jesus Himself knows all things which are to happen to Him (John 18:*+), and Himself was in such total control of that process that He was able personally to decide by what 293 death He should die (John 18:32). The route begun by Matthew, to answer the difficulties in Mark, is walked to its end by John. The simultaneity of the activity of the two men is to be understood in precisely this same way. It is an artificial and nonhistorical structure, just as the words about Jesus baptizing are artificial. The same reason that prompted John to create the story of Jesus baptizing and making more converts that John (the desire to show Jesus' superiority) lies behind these references to Jesus working at the same time as John. The fact that the ministry of John preceded the ministry of Jesus in the synoptics, and the fact that the arrest of John precipitated the ministry of Jesus in the synoptics, are facts which give far too much importance to John. It seems implied that Jesus was but a continuator to the Johannine message, taking up the master's work when the Baptist was unable to continue. Such a conclusion is intolerable to the fourth evangelist, and thus he ruthlessly rejects it. The fact that we are told that John had not yet been cast into prison (John 3:2*0, laid alongside the fact that we are never told when John was cast into prison, makes it clear that the actual moment of John's arrest and emprisonment is irrelevant. All that revelant is the fact that Jesus is in no way to be seen as continuator. Jesus must therefore be shown as beginning His work while John is still active. By showing 29* + the two men working simultaneously, John's gospel is not only able to show Jesus surpassing the Baptist in the total number of disciples made, thus underlining Jesus' superior role, but John is further deflated by the denial of his arrest as a formative factor in the career of Jesus. Even as the simultaneity of mission is an artificial theological creation, so also is the southern ministry of Jesus. This too is a theological fiction growing out of the same complex of ideas already explored. John had been active in the south, the scene of his greatest triumph. It was in Judaea, according to Mark, where he baptized Jesus. Thus the fourth gospel must strip the Baptist at this point too, taking from him not only his disciples, but also his locale. There is nothing which is left to John other than his truncated role of witness to the lamb of trod.? In essence, then, the bulk of the narrative is not historical but theological, constructed with a definite polemical purpose. Jesus did not baptize (the gospel avows that fact); Jesus did not work simultaneously with John; Jesus did not work, at least at this stage of His ministry, in the south. He is in no way to be seen as a continuator of the Baptist'w work, but rather as the superior one to whom the Baptist testifies. It would be wrong, however, to go on from there and to conclude that the Baptist narrative, because it is patently artificial in many of its details, is entirely 295 theological fiction. There is an underlying historical foundation which remains even after the artificial scaf folding of theology is torn away. It is true that the des cription of the disciples given in the first chapter of John is stylized and idealized. The slow and laborious realization of the disciples that they had a mission to perform is too clearly spelled out; in the annals of Acts to be set aside, and that painfully slow realization that they were to undertake missionary activity makes it clear that the instantaneous desire of the first two converts to share their conversion with others is artificial. Likewise, the synoptic account of the slow way In ’ which the disciples came to recognize the person of Jesus is too deeply en grained into the original record to allow us to conclude that the proclamation of Jesus as the Christ was something which actually took place immediately after their first con versation with Him. -et, granting without hesitation that chapter one idealizes the disciples, it does not follow that the account is fabricated without reference to underlying fact. Instead, it is very probable that there were two disciples of the Baptist who left him to follow Jesus. It must be noted that where John does set aside fact for theological fiction he signals that fact. We have already noted his practice of prodding the nodding reader, insisting that Jesus did not in fact baptize though it was earlier said that He did. In the same way, when elsewhere he con 296 tradicts the synoptics replacing their accounts with his own theological views, he is characteristically very un- subtle about what he is doing. He is. instead, deliberately jarring. He flatly and openly and loudly declares that he is making a change, thus he is in effect crying out for the reader to pay attention and note well the point he is making. In direct opposition to the synoptics, he says that John is not Elijah. In direct opposition to the synoptics he says that John was not vet Imprisoned. There is nothing delicate nor subtle in such assertions. When he is setting aside fact for a theological purpose, he trum pets that fact so that the theological point may not be missed. But there is no such trumpeting in respect to the two disciples passing over from John to Jesus. This would seem to Indicate that this part at least of the narrative is solid history. Indeed, we have earlier noted that it is precisely the fact that the author was once a disciple of John and later a follower of Jesus which accounts for the startling resemblance between the fourth gospel and the Qumran scrolls. A three-link chain is evident. There is Oumran, of which John the Baptist is a representative. There is the disciple John who carries Qumran terminology with him from the Baptist, importing it into his writings, and thus making it part of the heritage of Christianity. This, then, we would submit, is the way in which the differences between John and the synoptics In respect to 297 the role of the Baptist are to be understood. Writing in opposition to the claims of the Baptist sect, operative in Ephesus, the very area in which tradition tells us that this gospel was written, the author recast the synoptic material in order to deflate the Baptist and emphasize the superiority of Jesus. It must be immediately added, however, that conflict with the rival Baptist sect is not the only motive at work here. Indeed, it can even be held that the reduction of John the Baptist can be understood quite apart from any rival sect. If the scholars who deny the existence of a church-sect antinomy are correct in their denials, the basic argument developed above still retains the larger part of its validity, fhis is so because, though this is often not noticed, the reduction of John the Baptist is not a self- contained fact. It is not only John who is deflated and reduced to an inferior position. While John may be the classic example of this reduction, he is only an example, and the same truth can be seen concerning every single per son in the entire course of the book. Ihere is not one in dividual who is not, in a similar way, reduced in status. Even as the Baptist is denied any independent status, so also the enemies of Jesus are deMed independent status. For example, Judas, who looms so large in the synoptics as the one who unlocks the final denouement is, in this gospel, reduced to a mere puppet or pawn in the hands of Jesus. In 298 this gospel, Judas does not move a muscle in the execution of his designs until commanded to do so by Jesus. In John 13*27 it is only when Jesus orders "What you are going to do, do quickly" that Judas gets up and goes out. In the same way, independent existence is denied to every other enemy. The high priest, in John 11:1+7-52, counsels the ex pedient course of judicial murder, but that very context insists that "He did not say this of his own accord . . He may have been speaking out of the practical perspective of a realistic man who recognized that Jesus' continuing activity might bring down a Roman reaction, bu ; the author will not allow the reader to conclude that it was the scheming of the high priest that led to the crucifixion. On the contrary, it is clearly insisted that the high priest was compelled by a power greater than himself to mouth an unconscious declaration of faith which summarized in a succinct phrase the vicarious redemptive significance of the life of Jesus. Exactly the same thing is true of Pilate. When the Roman administrator tries to cow Jesus by insisting that he has the independent power enabling him to either crucify or liberate Jesus, the administrator is sharply told that he has no power over Jesus except that which is given from above (John 19:11). Pilate too, is thusly denied any real or independent existence and is reduced, like Caiaphas, like Judas, to the role of unwilling servant accomplishing, whether he likes it or not, the will 299 of Jesus who had already decided not only to die but also o how He was to die. It is not only the enemies of Jesus who are sharply reduced. The same is true of the circle of friends sur rounding Jesus. They too are placed, sometimes dramatical ly. on an inferior level. The words of Jesus to His mother, in John 2:1 *, cannot be softened by shocked exegetes. He is harsh to her. She gives an order and He adamantly insists that she has no power over Him.^ He will do as she suggests, but He does it because He Himself decides to do it and not because she suggested it. In the same way the identical idea is expressed in John ; -^d here in such a fashion as to almost undermine the veracity of Jesus. His brothers tell Him to go up to Jerusalem, and He tells them that He will not, only to go later and do exactly as they suggested. The point is not, for John, that Jesus is either vacillating or bordering on the dishonest, but in stead that no one dictates to Him. iio one in this gospel is allowed to dictate to Jesus, decide His destiny, or approach His level. He stands alone, the only independent figure in the gospel. All those around Jesus are reduced in size. The entire gospel is characterized by this shrinking of those around Jesus, both friends and enemies alike, and we have already argued that this is an indirect clue to authorship. The author, 300 like the Baptist, must decrease that Jesus may increase. Everyone else must decrease as well. The Baptist may be the prime example of a reduction in stature, but precisely those truths we have seen at work in the description of him could be applied with equal relevance to the role of Peter. Everything which gives eminence to Peter in the synoptics is taken away from him."*°His great confession at Caesarea is set aside. His description by Jesus as the foundation of the church is set aside. The church shall have no other foundation than Jesus Himself. Peter is not even allowed to come forth negatively. His impulsive character which led him to leap out of the boat and seek to walk on the water (Matt. 1l +:28-30) reappears only in a drastically trans formed manner in the final chapter of John, and Peter's denial of Jesus so vividly recounted in the synoptics is not allowed to reapoear at all. Everything which made Peter a leader of men, his strengths and weaknesses, are glossed over, and, rather than being a leader of men in John, Peter here cannot even run fast enough to arrive at the tomb first I Even here, he is preceded by another. The one moment when Peter is singled out and spoken of in a sus tained discourse includes not only a stinging rebuke (". . . what is that to you1 ?", John 21:22), but is built upon the fact of Peter's penitence. He is forced to ack nowledge, even as was the Baptist, that his role is only 301 supoortive. His one reason for being is to feed Jesus1 sheep. The point we are making, then, is that in discussing the reduction of John the Baptist, we have not exhausted the truth of the narrative by simply pointing to a polemic aimed at a rival sect. There is more at work behind the writing of the text than that. The entire gospel seems to 1 1 be aimed at a reduction of all around Jesus. Independent existence is denied to both friend and foe alike. Judas has no ability to go out until commissioned of Jesus to do so. The high priest is but a divine mouthpiece against his will. Pilate has only the power God gives him. Thera is a desire evidently at work which seeks to deny any force at work in the world other than God's force active in Jesus. There appears to be a denial of even the most attenuated form of metaphysical dualism. Having noted this additional motive at work, we must lay it aside returning to it later only after other discussions will have prepared for its fuller development. At least three other minor motives lying behind the reduction of John the Baptist can be noted now, which will be picked up at a later appropriate time. In the first place, it must at least be asked whether the failure of this gospel even to mention the baptism of Jesus by John the Baptist is fully explained by a desire to 302 reduce John personally. Is it not at least possible that the sacrament per se is being disparaged? It has long been claimed by at least some that there is an anti-sacramental strain running through this gospel. This we shall examine later, but it must at least be noted now that there is in the John the Baptist passages a certain ambiguity apparent in the author's attitude toward baptism. The baptism of Jesus by John is not mentioned, and yet perhaps alluded to (John 1:32). Jesus Himself is said to have baptized, and then it is quickly denied. Is there more here than simply a polemic against John? Is baptism itself being called in to question? It is a point which needs examination. In the second place, it has been noted on the one hand that John the Baptist denied cany personal powers of recog nition. He was unable to recognize Jesus until divinely aided (John 1:33)* On the other hand, in discussing Judas, Gaiaphas. and Pilate, we noted the same motif, namely, that man seems to be presented as helpless, unable to do anything by himself without divine aid. Is this a distinctively Johannine doctrine with implications reaching beyond the discussions of the Baptist? This too demands exploration. Finally, it can at least be asked, is the disparage ment of John to be seen as perhaps a denial of the Qumran theology which lies behind John? Everything we know about John seems to make him an advocate of Essene ideas. Recent 303 research and discovery has now enabled us to distinguish between different groups within the Essene sect, thus any statements about Essene theology are open to the charge of over-simplification and generalization. Despite that risk, however, it does seem reasonably safe to say that all that we know of the ^umran Essene group indicates that they were apocalyptic in orientation and eschatological in outlook. While it is on the one hand clear that they did not follow the later route of an absolute or Manichaean dualism, it is on the other hand clear that they did believe in the revolt of the angels and that the devil was active in major degree in the world of men, having usurped authority from the Father. One of the bases of apocalyptic thought was the belief in the fall of the heavenly council. This world to an undefined degree had become the playground of the demons. There was nothing for man to do but abandon the world, and await the mighty intervention of God which would make all things new. The diseased heaven and earth would pass away, being replaced in the future by the new cleansed heaven and earth. Since this world was to some degree under the con trol of malignant forces at war with God, nothing was to be done but to abandon the world and await that intervention. Hence the Qumran community came into being, in one of the most forsaken places on the face of the earth, an area as forbidding as the name Dead Sea. At least some of the Essenes, it appears, turned their backs on marriage. They 3ck wore scanty clothing as a sign of self-humiliation."*2 All of these characteristics appear in John the Bap tist. When he appears in the synoptics, it is in an area close to the Qumran community. He has forsaken the society of men, living in the wilds of the Jordan. He is ascetic, eating only locusts and wild honey. He wears scanty clothing. And he preaches the eschatological message of an impending fire which will burn away all corruption.*3 What is especially striking, however, is the fact that it appears that what John took over from the Essenes, he magnified and intensified. His eschatological outlook vans far more heightened than that of the established Essene community at '^uraran. It is true that their writings were eschatological, looking forward to a final catastrophe. But it is also true that they had established a community— a continuing community— which by its very existence showed their conviction that while the end was coming, that coming was not in the days immediately ahead. John the Baptist on the other hand cries out that the axe is already at the root (Matt.3*10). In other words, the end is imminent, the final bell of the world clock is tolling. It is this that gives the sense of urgency to John's preaching.*1 * Without pursuing, then, any further at this point the characteristics of ^umran or the theology of the Baptist, It is clear that John was an apocalyptic figure, a spokes- 305 man for imminent eschatology. to an extent even greater than that seen at Qumran. It is therefore at least possible that the fourth gospel, in deflating John, is doing more than just that. Is it possible that the harsh and full way in which John is demoted and all eschatological words taken away from him, being replaced by witnesses to Jesus, indicates that our author is repudiating John's apocalyptic eschatology? Further, is he, by extension, repudiating •iumran as well? It is true that such an hypothesis seems to founder on the fact that much of Johannine terminology seems to be patterned after and based upon what we find at Qumran. But that does not end the matter, for the many differences must also be taken into consideration. It must further be noted that it is a fact of human nature that even when a thinker reacts against a position earlier dear to him, he never succeeds in dissociating himself entirely from that very position he is seeking to deny. We cannot continue the discussion at this point, but leave it with the observation that perhaps, then, another motive in the reduction of John the Baptist is to be found in the author's disenchantment with apocalyptic eschatology. ^ The length and location of Jesus' ministry are mat ters related to John the Baptist, and, in discussing the polemic against the Baptist sect, we have already main- 306 tained that tha southern ministry is a theological fiction. But there are other motives at work here, independent of a polemic aimed at the Baptist sect, which must be considered. The lengthening of the ministry, stretching it out from the brief months which appear to be its duration in Mark to a period covering three separate Passover feasts in John, is directly related to the disenchantment with eschatology we .just noted. The frenetic hurried pace of j / Mark, characterized by his constant employment of which piles one event upon the succeeding event and creates a certain attitude of breathlessness, stands in sharp con trast to John (John uses the terra only three times as compared to Mark's forty-two usages, eleven in the first chapter alone). By lengthening the ministry out to three years John is able to introduce a leisurely, almost relaxed atmosphere into the ministry of Jesus, which is of itself sufficient to lessen the conviction that the end is soon to break in. The frantic rush to accomplish all before human history ceases (an event to take place within the lifetime of the disciples, Mark 9:1) is denied, not only explicitly in the words of John 21 :23» but implicitly in the slowness with which that ministry unfolds— not in months, but in years. The eschatological fires have cooled and John, while not denying the forward look of futurist eschatology (John 5:28-29 et a!). lays alongside it a realized eschatology (John 5:2^-25 et aL). not found in the synoptics. The 307 whole question of John's attitude toward eschatology is so vast and profound in its implications that full develop ment of this motif must wait until later, and we content ourselves now with only noting that the lengthening of the ministry stands in direct relation to the waning sense of eschatological imminence. The three year ministry, then, is another theological fiction. The location of the ministry in the south is also, as we noted in discussing the Baptist, a theological creation. But the polemic against the Baptist is not the sole reason for creating it. Here, another distinctively Johannine concern, another attempt to correct a possible misreading of the synoptics, enters in. In the synoptics, Jesus al ways shies away from the term "Christ." He prefers instead the title "Son of Man." In the synoptics, every time that Jesus is called the Christ, He shows great reluctance in respect to the title, preferring the second instead. Mark 8s29f is typical. Peter calls Jesus the Christ and im mediately he is charged to tell no one of such an iden tification. Then the context continues by stating that the Son of Man must suffer many things. This exchange of titles, someone else calling Jesus the Christ only to have either Jesus or the evangelist exchange the title for that of Son of Man, is repeated elsewhere. In Mark 1*+:61 the high priest asks if Jesus is the Christ, and, while Jesus accepts the title, it is only reluctantly that He does so. 308 passing on to tell the high priest that he will see the Son of Kan appearing on the clouds of heaven. It will be noted that Jesus does not deny the identification. But He does shrink back from endorsing it wholeheartedly. Peter is not told that Jesus is not the Christ, but he is told not to use the term nor to tell others of it. The high priest*s question is answered affirmatively, Jesus is the Christ, but the term does not seem to adequately describe Jesus’ own self-understanding, therefore, here too, though the term is accented, it is set aside for another. This same note of reluctance toward the title Christ is what lies behind the enigmatic passage, Matt.22ilk| -lh6. At least three things appear in that text. Firstly, it is or at least it ought to be clear that Jesus does not deny that the Christ is the son of David. Secondly. Jesus does not explicitly deny that He is the Christ, the son of David. But, thirdly and most importantly, it is clear that Jesus is repudiating prevailing interpretat ions of that term Christ. The people have put too little into the title. If David called him Lord, then it is clear that David saw that coming one in exalted terras. It is precisely that which the people failed to see. They had set their sights too low, putting too little into the term. They did not see the Christ in exalted terms. It is precisely for this reason that we see Jesus adopting a reluctant attitude toward that title. The 309 Christ was understood primarily and essentially as a political figure, a military type like David. The term was shot through with military overtones and connotations. Since the days of Zechariah and Haggai it had become cus tomary to interpret the promises of II Sam.7:12-13 in a this-worldly political-military sense. This was perfectly logical in the light of the Old Testament juxtaposition of passages, for the promises of II Samuel 7 were followed by II Samuel 8, the battle record of David. That chapter reviewed his many military victories telling of the time when every traditional enemy of the Jews had been beaten and David had brought the people to the pinnacle of proud political power, the crest of empire’s glory. When Cyrus of Persia allowed the people to return to their homeland bringing to a close the exile it appeared that once more the empire of the Jews was about to be established. The return to the homeland revived the hopes of political In dependence which would be accompanied by a reduction of all the nations around them, returning the Jews to that pin nacle. Thus It was that Zerrubabel was seen as the one who would be the signet ring of God, restoring the fallen Jewish fortunes. It is true that when Zerrubable disap peared and the political power failed to materialize, this military and political hope faded and was replaced by the hope of later apocalyptic circles. But the short lived and marred martial accomplishments of the Maccabeans if they 310 accomplished nothing else did tiring back to life this hope that a son of David, the Christ, would come and lead the Jews once more to the crests of empire known in David's day. It is In this sense then that the Jews around Jesus understood the term Christ, a military earthly figure. They saw the Christ not as a divine redeemer but as a military leader, They should have seen more in the title for David himself paid an almost religious homage to this coming one, calling him Lord. They should have seen more in the title, but they did not. It is precisely for this reason that the synoptics, no doubt accurately, show Jesus only reluctantly endorsing the term. The Christ He was— but not the Christ of popular expectation. He simultaneous- ly, therefore, accepts the term while warning against its employment, using instead the title Son of Man because it was relatively free of worldly and political or military overtones. He is the Christ, but He is not a political revolutionary whose aim it is to route the Romans and bring in Jewish political autonomy. There are undoubtedly other factors as well lying behind the synoptic Messianic secret motif. But that this refusal to be seen as a military figure is at least one of the factors at work in the synoptics, leading to Jesus' reluctance to accept or endorse the term, seems undeniable. It is in this light the synoptic hesitation is to be seen. But, while the synoptic motivation is In retrospect clear, 311 it is nonetheless misleading and open to wrong inter pretation, and this in at least two ways. Firstly, the synoptics have what is almost an over emphasis. They ap pear to be a denial of Jesus' identity as the Christ. The harshness of Jesus' reply to Peter, strictly charging him to tell no one of what he said, coupled with the following denunciation of Peter as a follower of man, not of Cod, indeed as Satan, would only seem to underline the view that Jesus was not in any way the Christ. The implications of this would be enormous for the later church. If Jesus was not the Christ, the son of David, the Old Testament heritage would be denied as the rootstock of the gospel. Matthew seemed particularly alert to this possibility of misinterpretation thus, on the one hand, he began his gospel by identifying Jesus in his first verse as the son of David and by insisting later, in the sermon, that Jesus is not setting aside but rather fulfilling the Jewish traditions as embodied in the law of Moses and the words of the prophets (Matt.?:17 context). But even these dis claimers were insufficient to set aside entirely the view that Jesus in some way represented not a continuation of Jewish tradition but a rupture from it and a disavowal of it. Mark 2:18 through 3:6, with its recounting of Jesus' indifference to Jewish law, begun with the insistence that old skins cannot hold new wine, and closed with the state ment that the defenders of Jewish tradition, the Pharisees, 312 sought to kill Jesus, could only underscore the view that both Jesus and His enemies saw Him as one setting aside and renouncing hallowed Jewish hopes. This is one way, then, in x\rhich the synoptic narrative, at least in Mark, was open to dangerous misunderstanding. The fact that Jesus shies away from accepting the terra Christ, coupled with His obvious hostility toward the custodians of Jewish tradition, was open to the view that Jesus in no way saw Himself as a continuator of the Old Testament but rather as its antagonist, throwing away old wine skins. The second way in which the synoptics posed problems is that even as they weakened or set aside the idea of Jesus as Christ due to its military and political over tones, they never did explicitly deny that Jesus was in fact a military figure I Luke is especially guilty at this point. Not only are the hymns sung at the birth of Jesus shot through with nationalistic terminology (". . . the Lord Cod will give to him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever'1, Luke 1*32), but even at the end of the gospel and in the start of Luke's second volume the disciples are shown as ad hering to national hopes of a political empire of Jev/s. In Luke 2^:21 the disciples on the road to Emmaus state explicitly that "we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel," and again, In Acts 1:6 all the disciples ask "Lord, will you at this time restore the kingdom to Is- 313 rael?" These patently political hopes are never disavowed. It is in this context that the gospel of John is written. The title Christ must be reclaimed, but not only reclaimed— it must be reconstituted, and all political 1 7 overtones denied. Further, Jesus' relationship to ancient Judaism must also be made clear, it being shown that while Christianity is indeed something new, it is new only in the sense that it is a new shoot growing out of the ancient stock, Israel. The Jewish heritage must be affirmed. That Jewish heritage is indeed affirmed in such passages as . . salvation is from the Jews'* (John 1 +:22). But this motif must be examined separately, later. For the moment we concentrate solely on John's desire to reclaim the title Christ, interpreting it anew as he does so. The possible synoptic misinterpretation that Jesus did not see Himself as the Christ, the son of David, is sat aside. In this gospel and in this gospel alone Jesus is shown not simply as accepting the title when given it by others, but as using the title Himself. V/hen the woman at the well says that she knows that the Messiah is coming, Jesus flatly insists that "I who speak to you am he" (John l +:26). In a lesser way the title is affirmed as one which truly belongs to Jesus in the way in which His first fol lower, Andrew, brother of Simon Peter, announces--with no rebuttal by either Jesus or the author— that "we have found 3 1*+ the Messiah" (John 1:U-1). (The affirmation of Jesus' Jewish origins also is noted in the fact that John alone of all the gospels not only explicitly labels Jesus as the Christ, but also is the only gospel to give the Jewish form of the word, calling Jesus not only Christ but Messiah). ® By such sentences, the synoptic potential misunder standing is set aside. Jesus is. the Christ. If He hesitated in accepting it, in the synoptics, it was due to the political overtones associated with it. Thus John must also pass on to deny the very thing the synoptics failed to deny--those military and political undercurrents. This he does in a variety of ways, the most obvious being the words he puts into Jesus' mouth during the trial before Pilate. Pilate is explicitly told by Jesus that "my king ship is not of this world" (John 18:36).^Now it is no longer possible, even when Jesus is seen as the Christ, to see Him as a military conqueror. The same denial of a militaristic view lies behind the Caiaphas scene of chapter eleven. Caiaphas insists that Jesus is a military threat, a revolutionary whose preaching might touch off a rebellion and lead to Roman reaction. It is because he so under stands Jesus that he counsels Judicial murder. But the way In which Caiaphas' words are recounted leaves the reader in no doubt that Caiaphas* views are entirely wrong. Despite himself, he utters unintentional truth only when he speaks 315 of the vicarious nature of Jesus* death. Whereas Caiaphas thought in military terms, the evangelist insists that Jesus' life is to be grasped otherwise— from a religious point of view. The same truth lies embedded in the bread of life dis courses of chapter six. There, the narrative begins by the evangelist noting that "a multitude followed him, because they saw the signs which he did on those who were diseased" (John 6:2). 3y that, we are reminded of the synoptic scene. The power of Jesus, His ability to still the storm, to cast out demons, had won for Him an enthusiastic fol lowing. Many seeing in Him the power of Cod must have con cluded that He was the man to throw off the Roman yoke and restore political freedom. When Jesus approached Jerusalem enthusiastic throngs swept out to meet Him. Here was the prophet from the north, able to lift off the beaten little nation the oppressive Roman boot crushing them. It is as the bringer of the kingdom of David that Jesus is cheered in Mark 11:10. It was because of His miracles that Jesus had aroused the populace, convincing all those who saw Him in action that if relief from Rome was to be had, He was the one to accomplish it. On the one hand, therefore. John not only drastically cuts down the number of miracles per formed, but also drastically alters the way in which the miracles are to be understood. This point we will discuss later. For the moment, we note only that in John 6:2 al- 316 lusion is made to this misunderstand in? of the multitude. They are coming to Him because they saw His power and were convinced that He would make an excellent king, for, with power such as His Rome would not long prevail. But no sooner is the motive made clear than it is denied. Having seen Jesus multiply the bread, the people rush forward to make Him king. "Perceiving that they were about to come and take him by force to make him kinJesus withdrew again to the hills by himself" (John 6:15). There could be no more emphatic denial of the military and political as pirations of the people than this (unless it is the passage of John 18:36 already referred to).^ It is this which leads us back to a discussion of the scene of the ministry as unrolling in the south. Having explicitly insisted that Jesus is indeed the Christ, and having explicitly denied a militaristic interpretation of that terra, John is not content to let it go at that. Characteristic of his writing style in general, those ideas must become not simply isolated remarks sown into the course of his gospel, but must instead become part of the frame and form of the gospel. The south is the land of the Messiah. It is in Bethlehem of Judaea that the Christ is to be born according to the prophet, and it is primarily in the south or more exactly in Jerusalem, according to Jewish tradition, that the Christ is to labor. This is why Jesus, since He truly is the Christ and the culmination of Jewish tradition, 317 must be placed in the south, and even moreso in Jerusalem, and even moreso in the temple. It is true that for reasons we have already noted John cannot mention the virgin birth and the scene at Bethlehem. That event is open to an adoptionist internretation which he seeks to deny. He does not mention the virgin birth, nor does he even allude to it. But. as a consequence, he must find some other way to affirm the southern origin of Jesus. And this other way he finds in John The sense of the synoptic parallel is entirely reversed. For the synoptics Jesus was a man of the north, from Nazareth. It is in the north, therefore, that He is not honored. The prophet Jesus is nat received by the Galileans. A prophet is honored by all except his compatriots, and Jesus, a man of the north, is not honored by the men of the north. But in John ^:M-3f the statement that a prophet is honored by all except in his homeland is followed by the statement that "when he came to Galilee the Galileans welcomed him" (John is a man of the south, it is Judaea which is His "own country." By such a device, John is able to affirm, without mentioning, the synoptic virgin birth truth that Jesus was born in Beth lehem of Judaea and is truly the Christ of the south.^ As noted, the Christ is not only to be from the south but even more He was associated in popular thought with Jerusalem, and even more specifically with the temple. That is why, in this gospel, the story begins with Jesus 318 cleansing the temple and replacing it with His own person as the place where men are to meet God. Chapter two and the episode of the cleansing of the temple must be read in the light of the further illumination to be shed in chapter four. In chapter four the Samaritan woman is told that men who would meet God will one day worship Him neither in Samaria nor in a temple In Jerusalem constructed by human hands, but rather are to worship Him in spirit and in truth. But Jesus is the truth, and it Is In His person— not in the temple— that men are to meet God, thus the tem ple is cleansed, replaced by Jesus. This motif will be examined more fully when we go over chapter two in detail, but already it can be seen how these motifs of John flow together at this point. A Jerusalem-centered view, open to political overtones, is set aside, and alongside of that rejection is the insistence that Jesus fulfills Jewish hopes, for He is the true temple. For the moment, we in sist only that introduction of a southern ministry into the fourth gospel is a theological fiction created to underline the fact that Jesus is the Christ— but not the Christ of popular expectation. He is Instead a spiritual leader. It is this fact which leads directly into the al tered way in which the anointing and triumphal entry of Jesus are presented, contradictions being introduced at every step which sets John in Irreconcilable opposition to the synoptics. In John 12:13 Jesus can be called the king 319 of Israel, even as the crowds acclaimed Him in the synoptic story, and even as Nathaneal announced Him in John 1 :^9, because it is not possible to understand this term any longer in zelotic terms,22 His kingship is spiritual, not to be accomplished by force of arms but by vicarious suf fering as the lamb of 3od making expiatory atonement for the sins not only of the Jews but for the whole world, John 1:29 and Therefore, both immediately before and also immediately after the triumphal entry, specific mention is made, as we have now to note, of Jesus' death. Before the triumphal entry, John recounts the an ointing scene of Bethany. Anointing, as every good Jew knew, was the act by which a man was made king. Jesus is anointed as king. But the anointing is for burial (John 12:7). It is in death that He will reign.2^ It is in being cast down that He will be lifted up. It is in apparent suf fering and humiliation that the victory will be won. It is His death which is the key to His kingship, and His minis try can only be rightly grasped when He is understood as the lamb of Sod dying. He approaches Jerusalem in the triumphal entry, therefore, in a lowly and humble manner, not mounted on a steed of war but seated on a lowly ass (John 12:1*f), and the day will come when the disciples, illuminated by the Holy Spirit, will grasp that factor as significant to a proper comprehension of the true nature of His kingship (John 12:16). The anointing scene, then, must 320 go on from whore the synoptics left off. It must underline and emphasize the nonpolitical nature of His sacrifice. And after the the triumphal entry, in his unsubtle way, John returns to the same point and hammers at it anew. The Greeks, immediately after the entry and no doubt because of it, if the context is to be taken seriously, come seeking an audience with Jesus. To Philip they say, "Sir, we wish to see Jesus" (John 12:21). Instead of either accepting or rejecting their desire to meet Him, Jesus passes on to what is apparently an irrelevant dialogue. He speaks of the necessity of a grain of wheat first dying before it can bear fruit. The dialogue is in no way irrelevant for the author, and in no way is the request of the Greeks that they might see Jesus ignored. Instead, those words of Jesus are the answer to their request. If they would see Jesus, the savior of the world, the savior of Greeks as well as of Jews, they must see Him in death. They must behold Him cast down, like a grain of wheat. It is only in death that Jesus has significance. It is only as the dying lamb of God that His kingdom will be established. If anyone truly wishes to behold Jesus it is from that perspective, seeing Him as the lamb of God witnessed to by the Baptist, that He is to be seen. Any desire for an audience with Jesus on other terms is impossible, for words profit nothing, the letter kills, "the flash is of no avail" (John 6:63). It must further be recalled that the entire dis 321 cussion of the anointing scene, the triumphal entry, and the desire of the Greeks to see Jesus, is introduced by the Lazarus narrative. Lazarus is not the central character in the Lazarus story. There are no central characters any- i/here in this gospel other than Jesus Himself. Jesus, not Lazarus, is the focal point of the passage. Lazarus is but a prefiguration of the significance of the crucifixion scene. It is out of death that life will come. It is out of Jesus' being lifted up in lowly death that exaltation will follow. His death is the doorway to the kingdom. This is made explicit in the Lazarus narrative itself when Jesus says "I am the resurrection and the life" (John 11: 25). The synoptics not only had failed to reject a zelotic interpretation of the ministry of Jesus. More drastically, they had failed to relate the death of Jesus to the for giveness of sins, or the future life of the believer to His resurrection. We can comb the synoptics with a fine comb but our efforts will be in vain, for nowhere are such identifications made. Forgiveness of sins through an ex piatory death of Jesus is never mentioned. Even more remarkable, the very fact of forgiveness of sins itself, whether related or unrelated to the death of Jesus, is a surprisingly incidental motif in the synoptic writings. It is in this context that the entire framework of John is es tablished. Alongside the rejection of a zelotic Christ and the insistence upon a spiritual Christ, there lies the view 322 pU- that His death is the source of forgiveness and life. ^ Our discussion has led us away from the original point under consideration, namely, the location of Jesus* minis try, John placing it in the south over against the synoptic view of the north. But it ought be clear from the evidence already put forth that the southern ministry is a plank in a larger theological structure— the insistence that Jesus is the Christ, a nonpolitical Christ, whose kingdom shall be spiritual, and whose death shall make possible that spiritual kingdom, and that that spiritual kingdom rather than being in opposition to the hope of the Jews will in stead fulfill the Jewish Scripture. That final thought is what lies behind the narrative of chapter two, to which we now turn. In discussing chapter two, the turning of the water Into wine and the cleansing of the temple, the first point to be made is that it is possible to argue that this chap ter was once perhaps intended by the author to be the first chapter. We have already noted that many scholars see in John duplicate writings on the same theme. The last supper discourses are seen as duplicate writings on the same sub ject, later laid side by side. In the same way, we have already suggested that chapters twenty and twenty-one might well be seen as two separate reflections on the resurrec tion, both finally allowed to stand together even though 323 there is no literary tie between them. The homogeneity of thought is what led the author to allow the dual accounts to stay together. In the same way, perhaps, chapter two was at least at one time meant to be the opening of the gospel. Here a compact overview of the life of Jesus is given. An event is taken out of the beginning of Jesus* life. The water turned to xvine is called the first sign He did. And an event is taken from the end of His life, the cleansing of the temple. There can be no doubt that even though John puts the cleansing at the beginning of the gos pel both ha and his readers know in fact it was an event from the end of Jesus' life.^By taking an event from the beginning and the end, John gives a sweeping overview of the whole life of Jesus, and it is made clear to the reader that that entire life of Jesus was dominated by a single purpose. The danger of the synoptic Caesarea scene is that it encourages the view that Jesus* ministry was adapted to meet unexpected resistance. By showing the whole life of Jesus as regulated by a single purpose, that synoptic view that Jesus was a reactionary, forced by unexpected resis tance to alter His plans, is forever buried. Matthew 10 shows Jesus sending out the disciples with the promise that even before their brief preaching tour is ended the kingdom of Cod would come (Matt.1 Oi23). Schweitzer's interpretation of this section is well known and, in our opinion, has never been fully repudiated by the scholars who followed him. 32b Schweitzer maintained that Jesus, at this time of His ministry, did not expect to suffer and die. He expected a period of wrath to precede the final establishment of God's reign, but He expected that that wrath would be borne by the disciples and not Himself. Therefore as He sends them out in Matthew 10 He on the one hand predicts a time of in tense suffering for them (Matt.10:16, 17, 18, 19, 21, and 3l +-39), and, on the other hand, He speaks of the coming of the son of man on the clouds of heaven even though to this point in the gospel not a single word has been said about Jesus undergoing any suffering. It will be the disciples whose suffering will balance the scales of divine ret ribution. making expiation for the sins of the world, and allowing the kingdom to come. But the disciples go out— and return. The kingdom does not come. Jesus, disap pointed and wrong in His expectations, must withdraw and rethink the issues. Going to Caesarea Philippi, He there comes to understand that He— and not the disciples— must bear the wrath of God making expiation for the sins of the world. It Is only as of Caesarea Philippi and afterward that words about the suffering of Jesus begin to enter the narrative. Matt.16:23 insists that “from that time," from Caesarea's scene, “Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and suffer . . . and be crucified." To pursue Schweitzer's interpretation further is not necessary. His views make it clear that it is 325 possible to maintain that the synoptics are constructed in such a way that one could conclude that the decision by Jesus to die was a late revelation, forced upon Him by ear lier failure. There was no concrete plan before Jesus from the outset.^ Against this John writes. All reference to Caesarea Philippi is ruthlessly excised. From the very first chap ter Jesus is signaled by the Baptist as the one to die. And in chapter two, which was perhaps once the original chapter, Jesus' life is portrayed in such a way— by taking one event from the beginning and another from the end— that it is shown clearly that there was no alteration in Jesus' aim. He knew all things. His life at the beginning and His life at its end was knit together by a never altering conviction, '//hat is this truth which locked together His whole existence into a unity? There can be little doubt that the purpose of John is to answer the question raised but left unanswered by the synoptics--what is the relationship of Jesus to Judaism? We have already noted that Mark laid no great stress on any tie between Jesus and Judaism. That he should not emphasize any such tie is natural in view of the fact that he is writing not to Jews but to Romans. But the problem stems from the fact that in places Mark seems to go beyond indifference or unconcern on the issue, instead taking up a downright negative attitude, apparently denying any link. 326 At least that is the interpretation which could be put on those places where Jesus is shown deliberately goading or purposely antagonizing these responsible for the enforce ment of the law. In Mark 2:$f they insist that forgiveness is a function of Jod alone, but Jesus insists that such is His right, and performs a miracle to support the claim. In Mark 2:1 5f He violates their standards of cleanliness by associating with sinner. In Mark 2:23f He violates the sabbath and then goes on to claim supremacy over the sab bath, thus repeating, though indirectly, the claim to divinity latent in Mark 2:^f, In Mark 2:l8f His critics in quire as to why He violates the laws of fasting and if His reply concerning the bridegroom being present is ambiguous His remarks about the inability of old wine skins to hold new wine are not, for they seem to purpose a rejection of the whole structure of thought of His ooponents. But the sharpest example of deliberate goading is to be found In Mark 3:1 f where the only motive offered for Jesus’ healing of the man with the withered hand is the attitude of His antagonists. It is this unrelenting and unco-operative attitude of Jesus which precipiates the decision of Mark 3:6 to do away with Him, putting Him to death. In short, it almost seems as if Jesus deliberately sought to break with Judaism, and this impression is strengthened by what follows in Mark 3:13f where He replaces old Israel's leader ship with His own disciples. The narrative is so con~ 327 structed that the reader is impressed by the fact that Jesus' movement seems to be an entirely new creation, set in direct opposition to the proponents of Judaism who practice fidelity to the law. If there is any link at all between Jesus and Judaism it is to be found only in the co incidental fact that the twelve He chose were of Jewish stock. But even this thin tie is shattered by chapter three which closes with the insistence that biological or family ties mean nothing at all. It is only he who does the will of God who is properly the brother of Jesus, a true member of His movement. Judaism seems denied. There are apparent disclaimers to this found in Mark, such as the scene in Mark 7z25f when Jesus refuses to heed the plea of a Greek woman that He aid her daughter. On the one hand He calls her a dog, and, on the other hand He in sists that "the children's bread" (that which belongs to the Jews) cannot be given to outsiders. But even this scene, which at first glance seems to tie Jesus to Judaism, con cludes with Jesus giving that children's bread to outsiders, implying, once more, a rejection of the Jews and a distribut ing of what could have been theirs to others. Luke's universalistic attitude could serve only to support this apparent impression of Mark. As Luke ceases to insist upon the Davidic-Abrahamic origins of Jesus, Instead tracing His geneology back to Adam; as Luke heaps praise on 328 the hated Samaritan, holding up his actions as exemplar for all; as Luke contrasts the faith of the Roman with the un belief of the Jews; the conclusion that Jesus represents an entirely new movement in no way dependent upon Judaism seems strengthened. It is true that Matthew seems aware of this problem and tries to react to it, showing the organic relationship of Jesus to the Jewish heritage. The opening line of the gospel identifies Him as the son of Abraham and David, and is followed by passage after passage from the prophets, quoted to show Jesus as the fulfillment of their message. The sermon on the mount shows Him as the New Moses, not abolishing the law but fulfilling it. All of these facts are buttressed by the emphatic insistence of Matt.10:6 that the gospel of Jesus is intended not only for the Jews, but for the Jews only. But even Matthew manages to undo those ties he strove to create. No matter what the actual wording of Matt.5:1?f about not setting aside the law nor relaxing the least of its requirements, the fact is that the sermon which follows does in fact set aside the law. The repeated phrase, "It was said Df old. . . but I say unto you," can only be seen as ironclad alternative to prevailing practices, amounting to a rejection. That it is indeed a rejection of Judaism further seems clear in that Matthew*s gospel is the most vociferously outspoken in its violent denunciation of the 329 Pharisees, the defenders of the faith, with the great woes of chapter twenty-seven far exceeding anything to be found in Mark or Luke. Even the clause of Matt.10:6, apparently so conclusive, could be set aside in the light of the fact that it is a pre-Caesarea Philippi event. Could it not be argued that after the abortive mission of the disciples, Jesus, in rethinking His plan, reformulated it in such a way that He not only saw that He and not His disciples was to make expiation, but He also changed His view as to whom were to be expiated (not Jews but others, a thought oer- haps prefigured in Matt.8:11-12 where it is said that the sons of the kingdom— Jews— would be cast out and their places given to others)? This possible conclusion seems supported by the fact that it is after Caesarea Philippi that the terrible woes aimed at the Pharisees appear. Fur ther, what of the Baptist’s words in Matt.3:9f, insisting that biological or racial ties are of no consequence? This too seems to imply that the religion of Jesus is an en tirely new creation. The best that can be said for Matthew is that he is ambiguous, leaving open the question of Jesus' relationship to Judaism. What then is the relationship of Jesus to Judaism? Is it an entirely new creation with no tie at all beyond a coincidental one? Is it the same thing with no changes other than a purification of prevailing abuses? Or is It the same thing in a new form, so radically new that even as 330 it completes it replaces? This question the synoptics raise but do not answer, and to this question John writes. The answer of John in essence is that Jesus represents neither an entirely new creation, nor a simple continuation. It is a both/and rather than an either/or. The religion of Jesus is integrally related to Judaism, an outgrowth of it, dependent upon it. but also a completion of it. A com pletion so thorough that in effect it represents a new creation. But a completion so dependent upon the root from which it has sprung that it cannot be severed from that which preceded it. This is the thought which underlies the stories of the water into wine and the cleansing of the temple, uniting the two into one theological statement The water into wine is a magnificent literary creation which finds its point of departure not in prevailing Dion- ysiac celebrations but rather in Mark's reference to old pQ wine skins and nex^ wine. That it is a literary creation is obvious from the quantity of wine produced. John 2:6 tells us that six stone jars, each holding thirty gallons, had their contents transformed. One hundred and eighty gallons of wine I Taken literally, such an amount is not only suf ficient to provide nuptial revelry— it is sufficient to inebriate, if not inundate, the entire village I There is a theological motive at w o r k . ^ T h e r e is a stress on abundance, the prodigality of CJod is at work, one's cup literally runs over. Jesus has provided more than one could have hoped for 331 or merited. This literary creation merits the word "magnificent" in that John fulfills his desire of seeking to show Jesus fulfilling the Old Testament and bringing its promises to completion not simply by resorting to the practice of proof-texting as Matthew has done, but rather by weaving great Old Testament themes into the very fabric of his narrative. For example, we have already alluded to the fact that one's cup runs over. There appears to be little doubt that the allusion belongs to John himself, as he shows Jesus fulfilling the view of David as to what it means to be in the presence of God, Psalm 23*5. Matthew's linking of Jesus to David is retained, but no longer merely in a verbal or superficial way. Instead, the claim of Mark 2:^f, that Jesus has the right to forgive sins thus implying that He is God for God alone can forgive sins,:is underlined. Matthew's implied claim that Jesus is God because His word is equal to the revealed word of God given through Moses is also underlined. David insisted that in the presence of God there was wine in abundance. By showing Jesus producing wine in abundance John not only shows that Jesus fulfills the hope of David carrying the Old Testament, at this point, to its climax, but John also underlines the implicit claim of the synoptics that Jesus is true God. John, always refusing to be subtle, makes this claim explicit throughout the gospel. Mark has two 332 ideas lying side by side yet left unrelated. In Mark 2:$f he shows the enemies of Jesus reacting to blasphemy, Jesus apparently but ambiguously claiming to be God. In Mark 3*6 he shows the enemies of Jesus seeking to kill Him. These two items, unrelated in Mark, are tied together in John 5:18 where it says that the Jews sought all the more to kill Him, not only because He broke the sabbath (also a thought found in the Markan context),but also because He made Him self equal with God. But we have yet to see the primary ways in which John takes up Old Testament motifs, weaves them together with synoptic passages, and makes of them a total narrative tes tifying to Jesus’ fulfillment of Jewish hopes. Since the days of Hosea, it had become customary to compare God to a bridegroom and Israel to a bride. It is not our concern here to inquire into the question of whether Gomer was a figurative symbol or an actual person, and the other prob lems of that context. All we do insist upon is the fact that once Hosea had used the analogy of marriage to tell of the relationship of God to His people, it was a prevailing practice to see God as the seeking bridegroom, reaching out to restore His fallen adulterous bride. The coppassionate concern of Hosea, reaching out to rescue the rebellious bride, ripping her free from pollution and restoring her, came to be an expression of the love of God reaching out 333 for the unlovely and lowly. It is with this in mind that the water into wine nar rative is constructed. In prevailing Jewish social custom, it was the bridegroom who furnished the wine. This, of course, is the point made explicitly in John 2:9-10, the conversation between the chief steward and the bridegroom when the new wine was served. It was the bridegroom who was responsible for providing the wine. In furnishing the wine, Jesus puts Himself forward as the bridegroom. Not only is day yearned for by Hosea fulfilled, but Mark is ex plained. In Mark, the reference to the bridegroom is left unexplained, standing near the remark about old wineskins and new wine, also unexplained. But John knew the mind of Jesus better than did Mark, and he seizes the Markan con text as his point of departure and develops it into a theological narrative which sheds light not only on Mark but emphasizes in the sharpest way that Jesus stands in a direct relationship to the prophets of Israel, thus ful filling Judaism. In the same way, John develops an idea latent in another part of the Old Testament. Basic to all of Old Testament thought is the conviction that the creation Is good. If the repeated emphasis "and God saw that it was good" interlaced throughout the creation story itself was insufficient to make that clear, such phrases as "The earth is the Lord's and the fulness thereof" found in the psalms did. But also basic to Jewish conviction was the belief that that which God made good man perverted. Man was a part of the creation, one with the”animals and the environment. Out of dust was he made and with the animals was he brought into being. Man's destiny was tied to the world in which he found himself, and man's evil actions could pollute the good world of God. Thus the story of the fall of Adam and Eve in the early chapters of Genesis speaks not only of the fall of Adam and Eve but also of the consequences for the creation. It lost its superabundant fertility. No longer was food found in abundance, every tree giving of its fruit, and man having dominion over all things. Instead we read that it was by the sweat of his brow that man raised his bread and the land gave off thorns and thistles. Man's sin had contaminated the creation. But the obverse also held true for Jewish logic. If man's sin had poisoned all, man's cleansing would make all things new again. There grew up in Jewish expectation the con viction that when God acted to lift up His fallen bride, the fury of the creation itself would be overcome. Thus Isaiah on the one hand could speak of God's judgement falling on inanimate things or animals as well as on man (Isa.2:12f), but he can also on the other hand insist that when this judgement has taken place, nature itself will be restored, and the wolf shall dwell with the lamb and the 335 cow and the bear feed together (Isa.11:6f). But nowhere in the Old Testament is this motif as fully developed as it is in the closing verses of the ninth chapter of Amos. Again, we cannot go into the knotty problem of whether this sec tion was an original part of the book. But the literary question is of little importance for later Judaism. All that really matters is the conviction that took root that when God cleansed His people from sin the result would be a cleansed creation, the restoration of the cosmos. The Jew, as he looked forward, came to do so in recalling the great promise of Amos who said "Behold the days are coming, says the Lord when . ... the mountains shall drip sweet wine." The superabundant fertility of the soil would be restored, wine in abundance, and crops growing so fast that he who reaps overtakes him who sows. This motif too becomes an integral part of the Johan- nine account. In the most obvious way, the prediction of Amos is fulfilled— there is wine in abundance. Jesus ful fills the prophetic expectation. But the dependence of John on the Jewish tradition is not limited to this obvious application. We have already insisted that perhaps this chapter was once intended to be the first. If that is at all true, it would follow that that which was later added as the opening chapter could be expected to open the door to the theme of chapter two. And this we find. John 1 opens by echoing the creation story, when all was good. It 336 also echoes Mark's opening words. John 1 then continues by recounting the hostility of man toward the ways of God. "His own people received him not" (John 1:11). The fall is repeated. But Jesus claims the power to forgive sins, Mark 2:5f, and when sin is forgiven the world is made new, and abundance returns. It becomes clear, when one examines the water into wine story beginning from the position that it is related to the synoptics and the problem they posed concerning Jesus’ relationship to Judaism, that the full power of John's literary creativity has been at work weaving together the Old Testament and the synoptics into a sym phony celebrating Jesus' completion of Jewish hopes. Not only is David's hope fulfilled, but so also is Hosea's, and that of Amos as well. The artistry of John is seen in that he can take un related Old Testament themes and blend them together. Nowhere in Jewish thought were the ideas of the bridegroom and that of supernatural fertility of the cosmos organically united. It remained for John to do that. But, to carry the though further, it is not only Hosea and Amos which are lifted up and welded into the framework of this gospel, but Ezekiel and Daniel as well. It was Ezekiel who popularized the concept of God as a shepherd tending his flock. "I myself will be the shepherd of my sheep" (Ezek.3^1 5) • And it is the Johannine Jesus who insists on the one hand "I am the good shepherd" and on the other hand insists that if 337 one would follow Him that one must tend His sheep (John 10:11 and 21:l5f). Again we see not only an Old Testament hope fulfilled but also a synoptic passage illuminated, for in Ezekiel it is Cod who will be the shepherd, and it is Jesus in John who is the shepherd, making clear once more the divinity of Jesus, hinted at but never clearly affirmed in the synoptics. Jesus in this gospel is also presented as son of man, thus Daniel's motif is incorporated. And, as we have noted, this gospel alone strenuously insists on calling Jesus not only the Christ but the Messiah. All of these titles and ideas, Jesus as the bride groom, as the restorer of the creation and the producer of wine in abundance, as the shepherd, as the Messiah, the son of man, serve to indicate how strenuously John is arguing that Jesus cannot be understood apart from the Jewish heritage which produced Him. The link between Jesus and Judaism is dramatically underscored .30 If the first half of the chapter is essentially positive, affirming that Jesus completes the Old Testament, the second half emphasizes the other half of the problem, namely, that the Old Testament in and of itself was not adequate.Indeed, this thought, so basic to the act of the cleansing of the temple, has already been prepared for in the water into wine story. The qualifying remark of John 2:6, Indicating that the stone jars were there for "the 338 Jewish rites of purification," is not a casual aside. There is nothing casual in John. Instead, this is a reminder, so necessary to the proper comprehension of the cleansing of the temple about to be told, that Jewish purification rites in and of themselves profit nothing. They are unable to do what Jesus does. They are unable to provide the rich abundance desired by the prophet Amos. They do not purify, thus the creation, linked as an accom plice to the crime of man, remains unfruitful. Only Jesus, not Jewish worship rites or purification ceremonies, avails. That is the thought of the cleansing of the temple. Even in the Old Testament the efficacy of animal sacrifice had been questioned. Both Isa.1:10f and Amos 5:21 f had challenged sacrifice as a proper way of meeting God. (That both of these prophets should mouth these statements, and that both of these prophets should likewise be the ones who looked forward to a cleansed creation, underlined by the water into wine story, is not to be set aside as a casual coincidence— nothing is casual in John). Animal sacrifice did not accomplish what it was supposed to accomplish. No real fellowship with God was its outgrowth. The temple must be replaced by Jesus Himself. He is the lamb of God who takes away sin. It is in spirit and truth, neither on a Samaritan hillside nor in Zion's temple, that fellowship with God is achieved. Rather, it is through the death of Jesus that men can come to God, and thus, in the very 339 cleansing of the temple, Jesus' death is alluded to (John 2 : 21 - 2 2 ) . 32 Not only is animal sacrifice of itself inadequate and unable, like the jars and their purification rites, to produce what the Old Testament promised, but, further, the temple had become downright corrupt, a den of thieves. The people who came instead of being shepherded were fleeced, and this in a double way. On the one hand, in actual prac tice, they could sacrifice only animals purchased in the temple itself. To transport an animal from a far distance was impractical. And, for those living close, the animals or doves they brought were probably rejected under the pretext that they were blemished. In consequence, the sellers of merchandise had a monopoly and were able to demand exhorbitant prices for their wares. Further, to buy those wares temple money had to be used, and the money changers also could line their pockets, giving an unfair rate of exchange. The shepherds, charged with the welfare of the flock, were thieves and hirelings, serving only their own interests. Once more, by a different route, we are forced back by the circular style of John into chapters ten and twenty-one, where on the one hand the false shepherds are held up as a model of iniquity not to be emulated, and, on the other hand, the followers of Jesus are instructed to live for the welfare of the flock. Therefore, in the juxtaposition of the two events, 3 ^ John seeks to hold together in tension the two poles of the problem put forth by the synoptics. Jesus' religion is fundamentally and organically tied to the Old Testament. Jesus fulfills the multiple yearnings of the prophets. He is the bridegroom of Hosea, the shepherd of Ezekiel, and the son of David. John's circular style causes him to come back to this theme of Jesus' fulfilling the Old Testament again and again, both directly and allusively. In John b t2 2 we are explicitly told that "salvation is of the Jews," and before that, the highest praise of the gospel is given to Nathanael when he is called "an Israelite indeed" (John 1:^7)• But the theme of abundance found in Amos is not limited to the water into wine episode, and the heritage of Jesus is not simply that He fulfills Isaiah, Amos, Ezekiel, and is the son of David. He is also, as Matthew insisted, the New Moses, and He provides not only wine in abundance, but also bread. The same emphasis upon the prodigality of Jod1s love, seen in the fact that one hundred and eighty gallons of wine is produced— more than anyone could drink— is repeated in chapter six when all eat their fill of bread and twelve baskets of surplus fragments remain. Even as Moses fed the people in the wilderness, so also does the New Moses. It is true, as we have noted, that even in paralleling Jesus to Moses, John deflates Moses, making Jesus greater. But, on the one hand, this is due to an en tirely different theological motif at work in John which we 3^1 have yet to examine, and, on the other hand, is entirely compatible both with the synoptics (Matthew too insisted on the superiority of Jesus over Moses) and with the idea that when the New Moses came he would exceed the older.^ On the other hand, not only does Jesus stand in a direct relationship to Judaism, bringing to flower all of its hopes, but the other truth is also held, namely, that even as Jesus fulfills the Old Testament, the Christian religion represents something new. The Old Testament was inadequate. It failed to accomplish what it claimed to ac complish. This motif is spread throughout the gospel, not found only in the temple cleansing, nor in the reference to Jewish purification rites concerning the jars. The total inadequacy of Jewish purification rites, challenged by Jesus in Mark 2, is scathingly put forth in the remark of John 18:28. The Jews, in turning Jesus over to Pilate, refused to enter the Praetorium for fear of contaminating themselves through contact with one unclean, thus barring them from partaking of the paschal feast. The irony of the scene is tremendous and needs little amplification. At the very moment that they seek to crucify Jesus, at the very moment that they are busily rejecting the whole of the Old Testament shouting out that they have no king but Caesar, at the very moment that they put to death the very one who summarizes in His own person the whole of the Old Testament Himself being the gracious intervention of Cod, they flee 3*+2 for refuge to ceremonial ritual. The bankruptcy of Jewish religion, apart from its completion in Jesus, could not be silhouetted more emphatically. But, in concentrating on the irony of the passage, one would be guilty of an over sight if one failed to note that this is but a commentary on the remarks of the synoptics such as the one found in Mark 2:15-17. Already there, a profound ignorance of what truly constituted that which rendered a man unclean was revealed. In the same way, the inadequacy of the Old Testament, read apart from its completion in Jesus, is in sisted upon in John 5I39-li -7, where it is clearly stated that the writings of Moses (and by extension, the whole of the Old Testament) can be seen rightly only when seen as a witness pointing to Jesus. Therefore, even as the story of the Samaritan woman underlines the truth of the continuity of Jesus with the Old Testament, insisting that salvation is of the Jews (John *+:22), so also that story underscores the truth of the replacement of Old Testament religion by Jesus (John *t:21f), almost in the same sentence. Many other ideas could be developed at this point, such as the fact that it would appear that Mark 3:31-35 and Matt.3:9-10 (the denial that biological or racial ties by themselves are of any avail) are also developed in John. For example, in John 8:Mf the racial tie existing between the Jews and Abraham is not only minimized, but flatly rejected, they being called children of the devil. This in 3*+3 volves John, of course, in a literal contradiction, for Jesus is shown as already having acknowledged that they are in fact descendants of Abraham (John 8:37)• But the con tradiction is only superficial and is to be understood in the light of Mark 3:31-35? namely, only those who do the will of God are truly members of Jesus' following and thusly children of God and of Abraham. Unbelief undoes and negates any claim to the heritage of Judaism. Conversely, faith in Jesus incorporates one into the new humanity, making one a child of God and of Abraham. This is the point of the words spoken by Jesus from the cross to both His mother and His disciple (John 19:26-27). This is not only a commentary on Mark 3:31-35> but it also picks up and develops the theme v/e saw at work in Jesus' refusal to grant an audience to the Greeks. It is only in seeing Him on the cross that one sees Him at all, and it is only in believing in Him that one becomes part of the redeemed humanity, all other ties becoming irrelevant. It must be noticed how this ties in with the temple cleansing emphasis on the death of Jesus, already predicted by the Baptist, and underlined in our discussion of the anointing scene. It is out of the death of Jesus that the new humanity will arise and the Old Testament reach its climax. What animal sacrifice could not do, necessitating its replacement by the lamb of God, the death of Jesus will do.^5 The way in which these motifs extend into every part 3^ of the gospel could be Illustrated ad Infinitum, but we must content ourselves with only two more observations. Jesus has come not simply to supply wine in abundance, or bread in abundance, for man does not live by bread alone. He has come, primarily, to supply life in abundance. A life which issues out of His death, but a life which, like one hundred and eighty gallons of wine, like twelve baskets of bread left over, is a gift prodigal in its fulness* "I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly" (John 10*10). (One could pause to notice the realized eschatology of John at this point. The day of abundance yearned for by Amos, the coming of the bridegroom looked for by Hosea, are not events on the rim of the apocalyptic horizon, but are present realities— but this is a motif to be looked at later). Finally, it must be noted that the emphasis on the forgiving love of God which seeks out the fallen, latent in Hosea*s description of God, also becomes a central theme in this gospel. Here, John has gone beyond the synoptics.^6 Love is not an important term, either for the first three evangelists or for Paul. But it is for John. Indeed, it is not entirely misleading to say that it is the key term for the rightful understanding of God active in Jesus. This is a point to which we must return. The water into wine story and the cleansing of the 3^5 temple belong together forming a single idea. But that single idea is only one part of a larger issue. The water into wine and the temple cleansing speak to Jesus’ tie to Judaism. The larger unit includes other questions. What of Judaism's attitude toward Jesus? And what of Jesus' relationship to the wider world outside of Judaism? These are the questions growing out of chapter two, picked up and examined by our evangelist in chapters three and four, Nicodemus and the Samaritan woman.3? We have already seen that in the eyes of the evan gelist, Christianity represents the highest form of Judaism. It is the distillation and purification of all that is good in the ancient traditions. It is, therefore, not only possible to be both Christian and Jew, but, to put the matter into a different perspective, it is the Christian who is the true Jew. If a Jew is not a Christian, he is not a Jew eitherl It is the follower of Jesus who is the true son of Abraham. The nonChristian Is disinherited, his Jewish heritage torn from him, claimed by the church. We have a case history of this in the New Testament. Paul is the classic example. There he is, a zealous young man far exceeding those of his own age in his consecration to the traditions of the fathers, studying under one of the respected teachers of Israel. That young man, following the strict tenets of one of the most disciplined parties of his day, the Pharisees, is told by a band of unlettered 3*+6 fishermen and ex-prostitutes that since he does not believe in Jesus as Messiah he is not a true Jew. He thought this blasphemous. That he should believe that all of the prior promises of God were aimed at a Roman crucifixion struck him as diabolical, a scandalous claim designed solely to discredit Judaism. Therefore the first time we meet him in the New Testament he is not Paul and not an apostle, but he is Saul the persecutor, seeking to stamp out this sect which would disinherit him, claiming the title of true Jew for themselves. After his dramatic conversion, this same note which had offended him in turn became an integral part of his message. On his missionary journeys he always went first to the synagogue, and the eventual result would be a riot or uproar, not simply because he pirated away the synagogue's proselytes, but primarily because he disin herited them, in effect claiming that only the servant of Jesus was a son of Abraham. That also is the essence of Matthew, and explains the juxtaposition of his chapters sixteen and eighteen on the one side, and chapter twenty- three on the other. Jesus is shown as establishing the church, and denouncing the Pharisees. The thought is the same as in John's temple cleansing scene, namely, God now speaks through the church, not the synagogue or temple. The old way has been replaced by the new. It is now the church where God tabernacles with His people. Judaism was but a forerunner to Christianity, and it is only the 3^+7 Christian who is a Jaw. Just as Matthew called the Pharisees blind and hypocrites, so also John takes up that theme, John, Paul, Mark, Matthew— all of the early writers were convinced of this truth. That point, that Christian religion stood in organic relationship to Judaism, must be fully comprehended before the enormous problem which faced John can be seen in proper perspective. That problem is this. John wrote during a time of transition when the church's composition was rapidly shifting over from being Jewish to Gentile. Why? If Christianity and Judaism were integrally related, why were the Jews disappearing out of true Judaism, out of the church? Was Jesus a failure, failing to reach the very people He set out to reach?^C.H. Dodd has argued that it was precisely this fear of seeing Jesus as a failure that rests behind the construction of the Markan Messianic sec ret. He points out that the demand for secrecy is tied to the parables in Mark 1+:10-12, implying therefore that the whole purpose of the parables was not to reveal but to con ceal, to mislead, to camoflauge and confuse those "outside the kingdom" as to the true meaning of Jesus' message. But he also points out that such a motivation cannot be as cribed to the parables. They were not meant to conceal, but were revelatory. They were concrete teaching devices meant to illuminate the nature of the kingdom of God. Thus the 3^ demand for secrecy, he concluded, was not part of the original message of Jesus. It was an artificial creation of the church imposed upon the parables. Why? To white wash Jesus. To cover over the embarrassment of the church over the fact that He had failed to reach the very ones to whom He addressed His message. He preached to the Jews, and yet the church became Grentile and not Jewish. The Messianic secret motif, therefore, was created in order to indicate that the reason the Jews were not in the church is because Jesus did not intend for them to be in the church. He excluded them, preaching to them only in unin telligible cryptograms, concealing from them His true message. Why did Jesus fail to reach the Jews? He did not fail to win them. He deliberately excluded them. That, says Dodd, is what the Messianic Secret was invented to say. We doubt very much that Dodd is correct in this analysis of the origin of the secrecy motif, but there can be little doubt that Dodd is correct in insisting that the problem he outlines— the apparent failure of Jesus to reach the Jews— was indeed an enormous problem which demanded some kind of answer. Why no Jews in the church? This is a problem John must face, for the simple fact is that the writings which preceded him did allow for the interpretation that Jesus was a failure. Matt. 10:6 flatly insists that Jesus saw His message as destined for Jews. The violence of Matt. 23 3^9 could easily be seen as bitter invective born of disap pointment. Jesus was a failure, lashing out at those who spurned His message. Equally bad was the alternative ap parently offered by Mark. We believe, as said, that Dodd is wrong in building the Messianic secret on the belief that it was an attempt to show Jesus rejecting the Jews (rather than the Jews rejecting Jesus). Nonetheless there is an element of such an idea in Mark. We have already argued that Mark shows Jesus as deliberately goading the Jews, challenging them, purposely offending them. We have also seen what Mark's theological purpose was in so con structing his narrative. He aimed at showing the Romans a powerful figure, Himself in charge of all that took place in His own life. But whatever Mark's purpose, it did not lessen the fact that the reader could indeed come to the conclusion that the exclusion of the Jews was the willed purpose of Jesus Himself. Nov/, reading Mark, it may have been impossible to come up v/ith Matthew's implication that Jesus was a failure, being rejected by the Jews. But the alternative was equally bad, Jesus had rejected the Jews. This called into question the steadfastness of the One who sent Jesus. For centuries the Father had cherished the Jewish people as His own peculiar people. And now, in His servant-son, He ruthlessly rejected them, replacing them with the Gentiles. Here was an image of a changing God, arbitrary and unpredictable, whose love could not be relied 350 upon. Both of the synoptic answers to the question of why there were no Jews in the church were unsatisfactory. The one answer saw Jesus as a failure, unable to reach the ones to whom He addressed His message. The other answer chal lenged the very nature of Jod Himself. Some new, better, answer was demanded for this question of the disappearance of the Jews from the church, and John would have to give that answer. Linked to this problem was another. Not only did the exodus of the Jews from the church need explanation, but so also the influx of the Sentiles needed explanation. The success of the church with the Oentiles, as much as its failure with the Jews, demanded explanation. What jus tification was there for this enlistment of "outsiders"? Were they "outsiders" at all, or was the gospel truly in tended for them? Were they secondary inferior substitutes called in to replace the originally intended heirs? Was their inclusion simply an afterthought? Or was the gospel U ■ O intended for them from the very outset? Luke had no hesitation in answering that last ques tion affirmatively. His entire gospel is constructed on the premise that the message of Jesus was meant for all men. It is not for nothing that his is referred to as the universal gospel. But, traditionally, Luke was a traveling companion of Paul, and behind Paul there was a great struggle which unrolled as he sought to make this universal element clear. The missionary obligations of the church had been silhouetted only against the smoke of an enormous battle. And Luke, to his credit and as a testimony of his accuracy as a writer, had described that battle despite the fact that it did not square with his own universalistic views. In the Book of Acts he showed that the missionary obligations of the church were not seen by the earliest church. He shows us the earliest church content to sit in Jerusalem, engaging in no evangelization of the Gentiles. To and from the temple was the entire itinerary of the first disciples. The church had no concept of outreach. It had to be forced by the interference of the Holy Spirit to extend itself beyond Judaism. At first it was a per secution which drove them from the capital city. The im plication, clearly, is that if no persecution had taken place the church would have been content to never reach out to Gentiles. Philip, according to Acts, is literally trans ported by the Holy Spirit, planted in front of the chariot of the Ethiopian, and commanded to preach the gospel. Peter is ordered in a vision against his expressed will to preach to a Homan officer, Cornelius. And even when that attempt at evangelism of an outsider is successful, it is not taken as an indication that the church's ministry is to be expanded beyond the borders of Judaism, but rather as an exception to the accepted practice. Acts 11:1.8, "Then to the Gentiles also God has granted repentance unto life," 352 cannot be read apart from the verse which follows it im mediately, ". . .speaking the word to none except Jews." Likewise, if Acts 13:2 is taken literally, and such seams the intent of Luke, the decision to undertake the first recorded missionary voyage of the church was not the decision of the Antioch church council which saw a program of outreach as part of God's plan from the beginning, but it was instead undertaken only on the express command of the Holy Spirit. Even after the persecution, Philip's ex perience, and the vision of Peter, the church did not see itself as responsible for a missionary program aimed at the outside world. That this is so is seen in the way Paul's missionary journeys unroll. He goes, always, in every town which he visits, to the Jews first. He turns to the Gen- tiles only when the Jews refuse to heed his message. The implication clearly is that Paul never would have turned to the Gentiles at all if the Jews had accepted him. Indeed, in one place, Rom.11:13-1^, Paul flatly insists that the only reason he turned to the Gentiles at all was to make the Jews jealous, causing them to repent of their rejection and 111 turn and accept the gospel. The ministry to the Gentiles is here, for Paul, but a means to an end— the reaching of the Jews. Such a line of thought could only serve to under line the thought of the parable in Matt.22:1-10. Here, the originally invited guests of the feast, when they refuse the invitation, are replaced by others for whom the feast was 353 not at first intended. When one recognizes the context, seeing that chapter twenty-two with this parable is fol lowed by the bitter invective born of disappointment, the woes of chapter twenty-three hurled at the Pharisees, one sees that it is possible to understand the influx of out siders as only a reactionary secondary substitute, and not part of God's original plan. This failure of the church to see a missionary out reach as part of its original mandate is, however, but a part of a larger problem. Not only did the original church fail to foresee a missionary ministry to Gentiles. It failed to see itself as responsible for any kind of missionary program. Though the eschatological fires were burning at their fiercest heat and the church lived with the ardent conviction that the end of the world was coming soon, there was no overwhelming desire to move rapidly in the limited time available, bringing in as many converts from as many areas as possible in that brief moment before all of human history came to a close. This fact too is keenly underlined by the ministry of Paul as outlined by Luke in Acts. We have already noted that Paul undertook his first missionary journey not, apparently, through per sonal resolve to extend the borders of the church, but due rather to an explicit command of God. And, when he once does become a missionary, even then he is not powered by any profound sense of outreach bringing him to as many as 35^ possible as rapidly as possible. Instead, we see him sett ling down in one place, remaining there as long as circum stances would allow. A year and a half in Corinth, three years in Ephesus. There is no sense of urgency involved. It is only when local difficulties force him to move on that he does so. Again, the implication is that if Demet rius had led no uprising, or if Paul had not been hailed before Gallio, he would be sitting there still. Further, he seems perfectly content, when he sets out on a new jour ney, to return to precisely the same sites he had visited earlier, stopping at Galatia on all three of his trips. There seems to be no compelling desire to explore new areas, no search for new worlds to conquer, at least not in the first part of his travels. He— and this is linked to that idea— even desires to remain in the relatively uninhabited areas of Asia Minor, seeking to go to Bithynia, ignoring the far more heavily populated areas of Europe. He has to be forced by the Holy Spirit toward the teeming cities of the west. It is true, of course, that eventually the day comes when Paul sees both the need to reach the Gentiles not as a means to an end but as an and in itself (Gal. 3:28), and he also sees the need for entering into new and virgin territories (Rom.15*2^, 28). But these epistles are written relatively late, almost at the end of his active Christian missionary life, and their very lateness only serves to emphasize the suspicion that not only a concern 355 for the Gentiles but even a missionary concern per se were secondary afterthoughts and not part of the original com prehension of the church. And the simple fact is, this failure to comprehend an extended missionary program seems traceable back to Jesus Himself. Beyond a phrase such as Matt.28:19-20 (almost universally seen as a later gloss) and Acts 1:8, which is patently theological in its construction, there is no com mand from Jesus to engage in any extensive program of out reach to anyone. The tenth chapter of Matthew cannot be brought forward as evidence to the contrary, for not only does that context explicitly exclude all non-Jews (Matt. 10:5), but not even all the Jews are to be reached (Matt. 10:23). The nearness of the eschatological event prohibited the construction of a missionary program. It is true that this exclusion of the Gentiles in a passage such as Matt.10:5 is matched by at least a hint of the inclusion of the Gentiles in the coming kingdom. Thus we read in Matt.8:lO-12 a reference to the many who will come from east and from west to sit with Abraham. This is a reference not to Jews of the diaspora but to Gentiles coming into the kingdom, as the context, with its reference to the Gentile centurion, makes clear. It Is the eschatological emphasis of the synoptics which is the key to, on the one hand, the lack of a mis sionary program being proposed by Jesus, and, on the other 356 hand, to the apparently contradictory ideas of the Jentiles ] i p being both included and excluded. ^Time is limited. The end is near. Thera simply would be, in the thought of Jesus, no time to undertake an extensive program of out reach. This is sharply underlined in Matt. 10:23. 3ven the limited itinerary given in Matt.10:5-7 will not be allowed ample time for full exploration. It is true that the cam paign is abortive, and Jesus must withdraw to Caesarea Philippi to rethink His campaign. But even after Caesarea Philippi the note of an imminent end remains and both the disciples (Mark 9*1) and the high priest (Mark 1*+:62) are told that the end will come in their day. It is the eschat- ology of the synoptics— the overwhelming conviction that there simply is no time remaining in which to initiate a farflung program of evangelism— which accounts for the total failure of the church at the outset to see itself ob liged to extend itself. There would be no time for such a campaign. Not only would the Centiles be ignored entirely, but not even all the Jews could be reached before the end arrived. And yet, there was no need for concern. The elect would be gathered. But not by men. The ingathering of the elect would be a great eschatological act of Cod. He would send forth His "angels and gather his elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of heaven" (Mark 13*27). This is the key to the otherwise contradictory statements of Jesus. On the one hand, do not 357 preach to the G-entiles (and not even to all of the Jews), and, on the other hand, Jentiles would be present, sitting with Abraham, and "all Israel will be saved1 1 (Horn. 11 :26) .^ The church had no responsibility in this area. lime was too short. T d o short for human legs to cover the vast ex panses of ground necessary to be covered to gather the elect. Jod Himself, directly, acting through His angels, would gather in all who belonged to the kingdom. That was the view of the synoptic Jesus, and for the synoptics it answered all problems. It explained how the CJeniles could be included in the final army of J-od, even though they could be ignored in this world. And it also excused the church from any direct involvement in a program of outreach, allowing them to sit in Jerusalem, going to and from the temple. But those answers, adequate for the synoptics, were inadequate for John. He lived in a time when the ^entiles were not being ignored, but instead represented the growing portion of the church. He lived in a time when a program of missionary activity was being actively executed. In his day, it was not an eschatological act of angels, but instead the ones sent were human ambassadors. The synoptics, rather than answering the problems of John's day, only intensified that problem— for they promised a great eschatological moment which had never materialized. These are the problems which the very nature of the 358 church and the writing of the synoptics thrust upon John. The synoptics seemed to indicate that Jesus' message was for Jews alone. And yet the Jews were disanpearing from the church. The synoptics seemed to indicate that the Gen- tiles were only a secondary substitute for the Jews, im- olying that either Jesus had failed to reach those whom He set out to reach or else God had arbitrarily rejected His own people. The synoptics seemed to say that a missionary program was not part of the constitution of the church, and yet in John's day it was a consuming concern. The synoptic writings said that the end was in the immediate future, and when John picked up pen two generations of Christians or more had already lived and died and no such end had materialized. This is the context in which John writes, and it is in attempting to answer these problems that the stories of Nicodemus and the Samaritan woman are created. The Nicodemus story is, of course, many things, being primarily a meditation on baptism. That aspect of the nar rative we ignore here entirely, reserving it for a later discussion of John's views on the sacraments. For the moment, we consider only one aspect of the Nicodemus story. It is John's answer to the perplexing question of why there were no Jews in the church. Both of the earlier answers, implied in Mark and Matthew, either that Jesus was a failure, or God had arbitrarily rejected the Jews, are set 359 aside. In brief, John's answer is that the Jews themselves are responsible for their exclusion. It is the consequence of their own sin. The principle of retribution, set aside in the synoptics (a point which we shall have to consider later), is strongly affirmed in John. From this point of view, the words of John 5J11 + have implications not only for the healed man but for the Jews. One brings on's woes on oneself. Failure to follow Jesus is the cause of all dire consequences. It is the rejection of Jesus which cuts one off from life, rendering one blind. It is precisely this which the Jews have done. And of them, Nicodemus stands as lilt- a type. Jtie, a leader of the Jews, comes to Jesus at night. and as we have already observed, night is for John always a theological and not a chronological thought. It is not the inability of Jesus to communicate His message, and it is not a change in God's attitude which accounts for the lack of Jews in the church. It is the hardness of the Jewish heart itself, its failure to accept the message preferred, which John insists is the root of their agonies and the cause of their exclusion. The destruction of the temple lies in the background of history. The Jews have experienced calamitous woes. But they have sinned, and that is why worse has befallen them. They stood in the presence of God, and then like Nicodemus and later Judas they again went out and it was night, they preferring darkness to light because their deeds were evil. 360 There has been no change in God * s attitude. This gospel insists continually that God's love is unchanging, reaching out for all, including also and perhaps especially the Jews. God so loved the world, of which the Jew is a part, that He sent His only son to save. Jesus is the lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world, of which the Jew is a part. Nicodemus is granted an extensive audience by Jesus. That is, every effort has been made by Jesus to communicate to the Jews this concern of God. God's attitude is unchanging, and the constantly repeated great "I am" phrases seek to express in nonphilosophical terms this unchanging nature. God is eternally the same, the continuing present tense. The purooses of God toward the Jews has never altered. "Before Abraham was, I am" seeks to show, among other things, that the promise of old is related to the person of Jesus. The promise of old is un changing and eternal, and God reaches out for the Jews al ways. The failure of the Jews to be in the church is due to no arbitrary alteration of God's intention. Nor is it due to a failure of Jesus. It is instead due to the Jews themselves. They have hardened their hearts and therefore dulled their perceptivity. It is they who come to Jesus and walk away once more, even as did Nicodemus. At this point, of course, one cannot push too far the presentation of Nicodemus as a type of the Jews, for he in a later portion of the gospel does become a disciple in an 361 indirect way. From this point of view it is Nicodemus (rather than Peter, as Dodd suggests) who is the "faithful remnant. l,lf^But he is only a remnant, an insignificant minority within the greater mass of the Jews. They have deliberately rejected the heritage which was theirs. The fault is theirs, and theirs alone, and they must bear the consequences. John, here too, is perhaps following up on seed ideas sown in Mark 3:6 and 3:13- The Jewish leadership rejected Jesus, and therefore Jesus replaced them with His own dis ciples. John takes up that theme and makes not an his torical comment out of it but a theological commentary. They have rejected Jesus, and they must be willing to bear the tragic results which will accrue to their hostility. The Nicodemus scene is prepared for in chapter one, where John explicitly states that Jesus came to His own but His own received Him not (John 1:11). And John follows up the story of Nicodemus with those words of John Here, the Jews are shown explicitly rejecting not only Jesus but the One who sent Him, crying that they have no king but Caesar. This verse, of course, has many sides to it, in- L f 6 eluding a political apologetic. Blame is passed from the Romans to the Jews for the crucifixion of Jesus, indicating that the Romans are not really resisting the expansion of the church. It was, politically, a wise move for a church living under the suspiciously watchful eye of the Romans to insist that Pilate himself found nothing in Jesus worthy of death. But the meaning of the passage is not exhausted by political or apologetic considerations. There is the profounder theological motive at work. The Jews rejected their heritage.1 *'7 They alone are at fault, crying out in opposition to the promises of Cod that they prefer Caesar instead. They must be willing therefore to live with the lord they have accepted. Their sin has brought worse upon them. Their temple was burned, their city walls knocked flat, their existence as a people all but ended. It is the retributive principle at work. They had brought down their punishment on their own heads. It is this abiding con viction that they have received their just desserts which accounts for the unmistakable note of anti-semitism in this gospel. Strengthened by the conviction that their woes are merited, John can look on the Jews as become aliens to Cod's purposes. John has begun not only that process of dissociation from the Jews, but that additional process, coupled with it, of looking upon the Jev/s as essentially evil and deserving of any tragedy history may heap upon them. Not only are the Jaws held up as emblematic of evil in the trial scene, but even before that in chapter eight U) they are flatly characterized as children of the devil, and again in chapter ten they are held up as false shep herds and hirelings, thieves, which justified Jesus' rejection of them in the earlier temple cleansing scene. 363 Jesus Is no failure. They are. Jesus came to them. They, in the type of Nicodemus, walked away. The fault is in them. We can see therefore why in John two divergent streams of thought flow Inseparably together. On the one hand, we have those scholars insisting, rightly, that Jesus1 message is based upon and an outgrowth of all that is good in Judaism, a distillation and purification of its highest aims. Salvation is of the Jews. But with this there is an Implicit and often explicit violence of attitude bordering on hatred. The Jews have taken their stand against Sod. They are blind. They have failed to see that it Is in the church that Sod sneaks. They wrongly continue to see them selves as Sod's instrument, and they wrongly excommunicate all who follow in Jesus' w a y . in affect they are not ex communicating Christians, cutting them off from fellowship with Sod, but are instead cutting themselves off, renouncing Sod as their king, and bringing tragedy down on themselves. This is the way that John answers the question of the disappearance of the Jews from the church of his day. The mystery resides not in the ability of Jesus, nor in an ar bitrary attitude of Sod. It resides instead in the evil heart of the Jew. They have no one to blame. This is what the Nicodemus story says. "Are you a teacher of Israel, and yet you do not understand this?" (John 3:10). The conver sation begins with that, and closes with this: "And this is the judgement, that the light has come into the world, and 36*f men preferred darkness instead of light because their deeds were evil. For everyone who does evil hates the light, and does not come to the light" (John 3:19-20). This, then, is the answer John gives to the question of the disappearance of the Jews from the church. It is due to their evil nature. But what of the other, related, oroblems? Is the influx of the Jentiles to be seen only as a secondary substitute of an inferior audience? The answer of John, in the story of the Samaritan woman, is an em phatic and unqualified "No I" From the outset Jesus is shown as the lamb of lod who takes away the sin of the world T of which the Grentile is a part. Sod so loved the world, of which the Jentile is a part, that He sent His only son as savior. That is the point of the Samaritan woman story. John picks up the universalism of Luke, latent in the good Samaritan story, and develops it further. The living water which is one day to flow from the belly of Jesus (and not from Jerusalem the navel of the earth),^ springing up into rivers of life for all who believe, is offered to the Samaritan woman personally. He Himself evan gelizes the "outsider." This is why the disciples are pur posely removed from the narrative, ushered off the scene (John ^:7)* By such a device it becomes absolutely clear to the reader that preaching to non-Jews was part of the original program of Jesus, and not a later decision of the 365 church. The Samaritan woman goes on to call Him the Christ (John h-:29), and the Samaritans themselves go on to insist that “we know that this is indeed the savior of the world" (John bik-2), 3y such a device, the problem of the end of the first century, the disappearance of the Jews and the influx of the non-Jews, is not only written back into the life and mouth of Jesus, but also an explanation is given. Nicodemus, the type of the Jews, walked away, un able or better unwilling to comprehend, The Samaritans, however, instead of walking away, "asked him to stay with them" (John The principle of retribution works in both directions. Those who did evil, rejecting Jesus, are doomed to suffer, but those who accept Him and reeeive Him receive what He has to give— life, both now and in the age to come (John 5 :29), 'The ingathering, then, of the "out siders" is to be seen not as an ingathering of outsiders at all, for they were from the outset the direct objects of Jesus' personal concern. But this answer of John is linked to the other prob lems we have seen posed by the synootics. We have already seen that even in the synoptics it was possible to find some indication that Gentiles would be included in the elect. But their gathering was to be an eschatological occurrence undertaken by Cod Himself. The church did not see itself encumbered with such an obligation. A mission too must be written back into the time of Jesus, and in- 366 dicated clearly to be not a later discovery of the church, but an original intention of Jesus. The harvest becomes, In John, not an eschatological harvest, but a present reality, and the disciples are explicitly commanded by the Johannine Jesus to lift up their eyes and behold the fact, mirrored in the drawing near of the Samaritans, that al ready the "fields are white unto harvest" (John *+:3§0. This portion of the Samaritan woman story is a homily on the missionary activities of the church recorded in Luke and Acts. No longer is one allowed to see the comprehension of the church's obligations as only a slowly evolving awareness, coming into being only after the departure of Jesus. Instead, John telescopes Acts 1:8, thrusting it back into the ministry of Jesus. They are from the outset supposed to be missionaries, evangelizing Jerusalem, Judaea, Samaria, and reaching to the uttermost parts of the earth (that is, Home, the center of the earth--when Paul reaches Rome, Acts can end, for Acts 1:8 has been fulfilled). But in their reaching to the ends of the ehrth, the church is not pioneering but following. There are no independent figures in this gospel, only Jesus alone. It is Jesus who evangelizes in Jerusalem (Nicodemus), and in Samaria (the woman at the well), and in Rome itself (this is why the story of the Roman officer is introduced precisely at this point, chapter four closing with a discussion of the faith of the Roman officer in John 367 The disciples, therefore, when they do in actual historical fact undertake a missionary activity are shown not as innovators bringing forth the unexpected, but as obedient servants following in His footsteps. Indeed, this attempt to depict the disciples as servants, doing what Jesus does, is what accounts for the idealized way in which the disciples are pictured in this gospel. No longer is the Lukan version of a gradually unfolding missionary insight allowed. No longer is even the Markan version of a gradually unfolding comprehension of the person of Jesus allowed. Instead, from the outset, the moment of their call, the disciples are idealized and shown not only as confessing Jesus as Messiah but also engaging in outreach (John The adamant refusal of the fourth evangelist to call Peter the rock on which the church is founded, even though he deliberately echoes the synoptic passage in which that statement is found (compare John 1:^2 to Matt.l6s17), is due precisely to his refusal to allow the reader to see anyone other than Jesus Himself as the foundation of the church. The existence of the church, with its missionary programs, is not to be traced back to any other than Jesus. The disciples, in chapter one, are presented not as they actually were in the moment of their call, but rather as they came to be through later years of experience. John is so concerned with indicating that the influx of dentlies and the larger missionary activities of the church are truly 368 part of the mandate of the church that he creates this theological fiction in order to illustrate that the dis ciples knew from the outset X'/hat their role was to be. John has answered not only the problem of the influx of the non-Jews, but he given also answer to the problem of the failure of the parousia. The failure of the eschat- ological event to take place is not a failure at all. The ingathering foreseen is already under way. In the earlier writings, the gathering of the elect is always an event of the last days. The kingdom of Crod is compared to a wed ding feast when the guests are brought from far and wide. The kingdom of Jod in the synoptics is compared to a har vest being reaped in the final hour. In John 2, the wed ding feast becomes a present reality. In John *f, the har vest is already under way. Our discussion of the Samaritan woman story has led us into a consideration of the realized eschatology of John, but this problem is far greater than thus far intimated, and full discussion must be postponed. For the moment, only this should be noted, namely, in this presentation of the gathering of the elect as already taking place, John is facing yet another problem posed by the synoptics, which is related to the failure of the eschaton. That is, Jesus preached the kingdom of Sod, not the church (the references in Matthew to the church are not authentic), and yet it was the church which came. Jesus preached a cleansed cosmos, 369 but it was instead a spiritual fellowship which came into being. The kingdom of God, with its related doctrine of the two ages, one under the power of Satan and the other purged by God, did not come about. Any purgation which may have taken place affected solely the human heart and not the cosmos. The world was the same ten days after the resurrection as it had been two weeks before the crucifixion. There had been no visible alteration in the cosmic struc ture of the world. To this too John addresses himself, offering a whole new thought complex, at this point not so much explaining the synootics but rather substituting for their meaning. In the synoptics, there was a belief in this age and the age to come. The two were successive, one following the other. But in John, the two ages are no longer successive but simultaneous, running alone side by side. Instead of Satan's realm now and God's kingdom in the future, there is the church here and now existing alongside the children of Satan. This is what accounts for the ambiguous way in which John uses the term "world." In many places, as we have noted, the terra summarizes the entirety of the human race, being but a synonymn for the totality of human beings. God loved the world and gave His son so that whoever believed in Him might be saved. By this very employment of the two halves of that sentence in John 3*16 the author 370 makes it clear that he is not using the term "world" in a physical or material sense, but rather in a personal or existential sense. The world, as a physical thing, is not able to believe. But the world, as John uses it, can. The world becomes a synonymn for people, rather than a place where according to apocalyptic logic evil powers hold sway. All of those people are objects of God's love. But part of them reject Jesus. Therefore the term "world" can also be used not broadly as a summary statement indicating all of humanity as an object of God's love, but in a narrower sense representing that hostile part of humanity which has spurned Jesus. Jesus can go on, in this gospel, to dif ferentiate between His own and the world, insisting that His disciples are not part of the world (John 15;19), for this world is unbelieving (John 17*25 id*. aL). This opens avenues too broad, as said, to be pursued here, wte must therefore close this discussion by in sisting upon the points already made, namely, in the stories of Nicodemus and the Samaritan woman John is seeking to answer the synoptic questions become urgent in his own day of why there were no Jews in the church, why were there Gentiles in the church, and from x/here had the missionary outreach of the church blossomed. That the eschatological event is thus brought forward, and the standard of judgement made existential rather than cosmic, are points to be dealt with later. One can perhaps close this section by noting 371 that the thought of Mark 9*1 and lh-:62, the end of the world will come in the lifetime of the disciples, is rejected in John 21:22-23 as a misunderstanding of the hearers of Jesus. We have already remarked that the Nicodemus story, In addition to other things, is a commentary on baptism* Like wise have we noted that chapter six is a commentary on the last supper. This immediately puts in front of us a fact of significance, namely, John’s attitude toward the sacraments is ambiguous and his discourses allusive rather than direct. There seems to be an element of vacillation or ambivalance. He both speaks of the sacraments, and yet he does not sneak of them, a point noted earlier in dis cussing the bantism of Jesus by John. The author seems to be trying to say two contradictory things about the sacraments. One, they are necessary, and must be discussed. Two, they are not to be emphasized, being mentioned only ^•3 indirectly or allusively. Before John's view of the sacraments can be intel ligently grasped, what preceded him must be examined. The inadequacies of the synoptics are perhaps most clearly seen in their recounting of the sacraments. They are woefully incomplete, inadequate, and misleading. We have already seen that Jesus' baptism was open to serious misunderstanding. The act could be seen in terms of 372 adoptionism, the moment when divine status was bestowed on Jesus. Marie's writing, therefore, opened the door to a near magical view of bant ism. The ceremony could be seen as accomplishing astounding transformations. We have al ready suggested that it was because of this implied magical nature of the act, conferring divine status on Jesus, that the fourth evangelist suppressed it entirely, introducing the Baptist in the prologue only after the divine status of the Logos had already been declared. By such a means it became impossible to see the baptism of John as a divinity bestowing function. We have also argued that Matthew and Luke saw this possible misinterpretation of Mark and therefore added in their stories of the virgin birth. However, this must be clearly noted: while they may have therefore made it clear that baptism did not confer divine status, they did not suc ceed in tearing away the possibility of ascribing to baptism magical or mechanical powers. Matthew is especially ex posed at this point. 3aptism, in Matthew, is efficacious in and of itself. It needs no faith to appropriate its benefits. It accomplishes its benefits independently of any spiritual attitude the recipient may have. It is a magical act which is automatic in nature, conferring upon the baptized all its benefits without regard to the worth or lack of worth of the recipient. It is because the Bap tist himself understands the ceremony in this way that we 373 find him objecting to arrival of the Pharisees and Sad- ducees, calling them vipers (Matt.3:7f)• He knows that if he baptizes them, despite their unworthiness, they will es cape from the wrath which is to come.'^’He demands of them, therefore, fruit worthy of repentance before he will give to them this protective power inherent in his sacrament. Baotlsm in the synoptics is mechanical, automatic, and magical, efficacious in itself, accomplishing its wonders of release from suffering independently of the spiritual worth of the baptized. The synoptics are further inadequate in that they discuss only the baptism of John. No links whatever are made between John's baotism and later church baptism, and neither the necessity of nor the nature of Christian bant ism are ever even mentioned (as said earlier, Matthew’s closing verses are an interpolation— but even the gloss fails to explain Christian baptism). The apostle Paul, also earlier than John, dealt with one of the synoptic lacunae, insisting upon the necessity of Christian baptism, but he too failed to make clear the nonraagical nature of the act. For Paul being "in Christ" was the hallmark of Christianity. But this status of "in Christ" was not the product of a faith-relationship, but rather the consequence of baptism.^ There is a naked sac- raraentalism in Paul of enormous depth. It is in baptism that one "puts on" Christ. Faith, rather than being the cause of being in Christ, is a consequence. Baptism places 37^ one in Christ, in the sphere where the Spirit operates. And it is the Spirit who forms one's confession of faith. 56 It is not a personal act but the fruit of the Spirit. Because of the enormous importance which Paul ascribes to baptism, some of his converts actually began to practice a baptism of or for the dead, assuming obviously that if the ceremony was so exceedingly efficacious it could bring forth its results even in those departed. It must be noted that the practice referred to in I Cor.l5*29f is not presented as a perversion of the apostle’s teaching, but 57 as a logical outgrowth of it. It Is true of course that Paul's letters are sufficiently seeded with demands for discipleship and the necessity of personal commitment to allow us to see that he does not recognize baptism as en- duringly efficacious, its potency continuing despite the attitude of the individual. On the contrary, he warns con stantly that the relationship established in baptism can be ruptured and destroyed. But this in no way lessens the fundamental efficacy of the rite itself. Further, Paul is also weak In that he never indicates the reason for bap tism. That is, he, like the synoptics, never ties the baptism of John to later Christian baptism. He never in dicates how the rite became a Christian rite. He simply observes that it is, part of the Christian ritual, without indicating how this came about. Lying behind the fourth evangelist, then, there is y?5 this cluster of facts. Baptism is necessary, efficacious in itself, the act which incorporates one into Christ. But its origin is unaccounted for. That which was a universal practice within the church remains unexplained and unjus tified, not traced back to Jesus Himself. The other sacrament of the church, the supper, is clouded over in a similar way. The three synoptics and Paul make it clear that the supper was a solemn ceremony universally commemorated within the church, but the meaning of the act is nowhere clearly snelled out. Bven worse, there seem to be conflicting views latent in the four ac counts. Matthew, we have noted, seems to approach an ex- piational interpretation, for he alone says that the blood of Jesus was shed for the remission of sins. (Matt.26:28 has no parallel in Mark 1l f:22f, Luke 22*f7fj or I Cor. 11:23f, these contexts merely speaking of Jesus' blood as poured out, but giving no reason for that outpouring. It is possible to construct some theory of the death of Jesus quite apart from a satisfaction or penal theory. The closest parallel to Matt.26:28 is found not in I Cor.11:23f but rather in I Cor.l5:3> but even here Paul's remark remains ambiguous). In opDOsition to a possible expiations! theory perhaps latent in Matthew, the other synoptics seem to see the supper simply as a foretaste of the coming heavenly banquet. That is, they are eschatological. They are oriented not toward the death of Jesus but rather 376 toward His parousia, the arrival of the kingdom. Jesus is shown in Mark as looking to the day when He will drink the fruit of the vine in the coming kingdom of God. Luke 22:18 has the same note, and Paul closes his section with a reference to the Lord's coming again (I Cor.11:26). In line with this, the Didache opens its discussions of the supper with the cry "Maranatha," calling upon the Lord to return, and never once includes the motif of expiation or satisfaction.-' The look is forward, eschatological, an ticipating the parousia, and not backwards toward the cross. From this point of view, it seems impossible to see the supper ceremony in any way other than as parallel to the feeding miracles of the synoatics, related to the eschatology and demonology of those documents. Judaism of that day was convinced that the lack of food was related to demonic activity.^When Jesus was alone in the wilderness with the devil He had no bread. We have further seen that apocalyptic literature was convinced that this present A world was under the sway of those demonic powers. When God's kingdom came, Satan's time would end, and then, in the future, there would be bread. It is in this sense that the petition of the Lord's prayer for bread must be under stood. It was not a plea for daily bread, but rather a plea that the bread of the morrow, which would be in abun dance when Satan was destroyed, might even now be given, 61 beforehand. Both the feeding of the multitudes in the 377 wilderness and the supper must be seen in the synoptics as partial fulfillments of that petition. They were both fore tastes of the heavenly banquet— preliminary experiences of the abundance of God would be theirs when Satan was no more. The thought was not expiational but eschatological. From this view, the very terminology of the last meal, it being a Passover, is revelatory. The Passover was in Jewish tradition a commemoration of the meal the Jews ate prior to their liberation from Pharoah. It was a meal eaten before the glorious power of God was exercised on their behalf setting them free from tyranny. And so with the supper. The type of tyranny had altered. No longer was the enemy seen as a military or temporal power, but as Satan. But the basic note of anticipation, of looking for ward to a mighty act of delivery from a tyrant, remains. Hence for Mark the last supper is not a dirgeful moment but one of rejoicing, and the entire scene closes with the singing of a hymn (Mark 1*+:26) as eschatological release is anticipated. But even here it must be clearly noted that even if there is a measure of truth to our interpretation, it still remains our interpretation, and not that of the synoptics themselves, for the synoptics give no clearcut and unam biguous interoretation of all of their own details. Indeed, and this is the problem of the synoptics, they lay many pieces side by side not always weaving those pieces into an 378 accord with one another or integrating them into the warp of the whole. There is the petition for tomorrow's bread today, there are parables comparing the coming kingdom to a great feast given by a king, there are feeding miracles, and there is the last supper, but there is no clear word from the author that these separate bricks are to be built into one structure. It remains for the ingenuity of the commentator to make the connections. Paul at this point is as inadequate as are the synoptics. He seems at one point to demand a right and reverant attitude toward the supoer lest one bring disaster on one's self (I Cor.11:29f). This would seem to remove the supper from the danger we saw latent in his view of baptism--the possibility of seeing it as magical, carrying efficacity in itself. But Paul can turn right around and ascribe magical powers to the supper. It must be noted that Paul's discussion of the supper begins properly not in I Cor.11 but rather in chapter eight, with his dis cussion of meat offered to idols. This pagan practice is discussed and then applied as an explanatory parallel to the effects of the supoer. The essence of that preceding discussion seems to be that by partaking of meat offered to idols, the pagan actually enters into union or communion with the demons behind the idols. Paul therefore insists that they ought not partake of such meat because "I do not want you to be partners with demons" (I Cor. 10:20). It is 379 precisely this which explains the supper. Even as pagan ceremonies bring one into contact mysteriously with malignant spiritual beings, so also the supper brings one into real contact with Christ. And it is for this reason— that the supper carries one into contact with Christ through its own mysterious or magical powers— that it is dangerous to partake unworthily of the supper. This is the situation which confronts John. The sac raments of baptism and the supper are universally prac ticed, but unexplained. And, unexplained, they are open to abuse. There is no need to search afield in the acres staked out by the History of Religions school to find in the mysteries a heightened view of sacramentalisra from which John could draw or against which he could react.^3 Latent in the literary heritage of the church there is am ple evidence of a naked sacramentalism at work. If one wishes to argue that the sacranentalisra of the mysteries reached John indirectly, through the mediate agency of the synoptics and Paul, that of course is permissable. But, on the one hand, that makes the problem not a Johannine prob lem, but a Pauline or synoptic problem, thus outside the scope of discussion. On the other hand, it does not alter the premiss already stated, namely, there is no rational reason for us to search elsewhere than in the Christian writings to which the fourth evangelist was heir to find the problem which faced him. We can assume, then, that writing in Ephesus (the 380 place from which I Corinthians was written!) he found in front of him extreme views of the sacraments, those rites 6U- being considered in quasi-magical terms. Hence we can also expect to find in John's writings a reaction against those extreme views. But further, even as John could be expected to react, so also we could expect others in the area to react also, rejecting an interpretation of the sacraments which would in effect reduce Christianity to a mechanical process. Human nature being what it is, this reaction would no doubt be in excess, going too far, not seeking to put the sacraments into proper perspective but instead being a dismissal of the sacraments entirely. Side by side with the sacramentalists, there would no doubt be an opposed group of anti-sacramentalists. We would be justified in further assuming that we would find John writing not only a polemic to the right, aimed at those who ascribed too much significance to the sacraments, but also writing a polemic to the left, aimed at those who wished to set aside the sacraments entirely in favor of a more spiritual religion. In short, we can expect to find John fighting on two fronts, both for and against the sacraments, both affirming their necessity and simultaneously denying their magical nature. This is precisely what we do in fact find in the fourth gospel, and it is this fact that he is fighting on two fronts which accounts for the ambivalence of his approach which we have already noted. 381 The contradictory views, lying side by side in John's discussion of baptism or the supper, are not due to two different hands, one the evangelist and the other a later redactor. They are due instead to the fact that John must steer a middle course between two opoosed and extreme fac- tions, trying to hold two contradictory views in tension. y Against those who exaggerate the sacraments, he must minimize. Against those who minimize the sacraments, he must affirm. Precisely these two tendencies run through the Nicodemus meditation on baptism, and the sixth chapter's reflection on the supper. The Nicodemus meditation was already prepared for in John 1:12-13. Thera the divine origin of baptism was al ready laid down. Those born again were not born of "blood nor of the will of the flesh nor of the will of man, but of God." Baptism is a divine act, its power not found in human resolve but in the will of God. Baptism is affirmed. But, side by side with that, the clause opens with an af firmation of human responsibility. This act, though divine, is not magical nor automatic. Its efficacy is reserved only "to all who received him, who believed in his name." They alone are given this power, or are made recipients of its benefits, and not those who received Him not. This double emphasis is repeated throughout the Nicodemus narrative. In John 3:3 the ambiguous word ifvOBV is intentionally ambiguous for both of its possible senses are valid and interrelated. One must be born anew, a new life is demanded. But this new life is not a human creation. It comes from God, from above, it is a divine act. And un less this divine act tabes place, one cannot enter into the kingdom of God (John 3*5)- The divine initiative is being stressed. Against those who would minimize or reject en tirely the sacrament, John thunders that there is no sal vation aoart from it. The pun of John 3:8 underlines the same truth. The "wind" blows where it will and man cannot control it. Baptism is an act of the Spirit, an act of God dependent in no way on faltering human resolve or wavering fleshly resolution. So strongly does John insist upon the efficacity of baptism and its necessity that he seems al most to deny entirely human responsibility, not only in this context but throughout the gospel. In John 15*16 the words taken alone can be seen only as a doctrine of divine determinism, "You did not choose me, but I chose you." The same insistence upon the divine initiative is repeated in John 5*21 ("The Son gives life to whom he will") and in John 6:Mf and 6:65, both in the meditation on the other sacrament, the supper, which insist that "no one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws him," and "no one can come to me unless it is granted him by the Father." Here is John fighting on one front. Against those who would set aside baptism as a superstitious ceremony fraught with magical overtones, something unworthy of a spiritual 383 religion, John insists that Christianity in general and baptism specifically are divine acts, and as such baptism is absolutely vital. It cannot be set aside, for without it, unless a man born of water and the Spirit, he can in no way enter into Cod's kingdom. The other side is also sharply insisted on. Human responsibility is underscored. Without a proper attitude, this divine act is nullified and its benefits forfeited. Even as the allusion to baptism in John 1:12 insisted on the necessity of "receiving him" so also the Nicodemus nar rative insists in John 3:11—12 upon witness not only being borne but being received and twice the word "believe" is used. John 3:21 summarizes this necessity of human res ponse by insisting that the life of those claimed by Cod must reflect in deeds their consecration. From this point of view, the reference to Moses lifting up the serpent in the wilderness, John 3J1l +, must be given its full weight. When the Israelites of old were afflicted by a sand viper whose bite left a fiery inflammation, Moses fashioned the symbol of a serpent and held it up. To be healed of the bite, one had to look up at the serpent symbol. Healing was not mechanical. A response was demanded. One had to gaze steadfastly on the symbol, and only then was healing accomplished. The importance of this verse is seen in that it introduces the gospel's best known verse, John 3:16. Here, human responsibility and the necessity of faith are 38V perhaps more underlined than anywhere else in the gospel. It is only he who believes who does not perish. The same thought is repeated in John 3*18, he who believes is not condemned. Here John has rejected summarily those extreme sacramentralists who would make of the rites of the church quasi-magical formulae bestowing their benefits quite apart from human response. John, woodenly taken, contradicts himself, and there is no way in which honest exegesis can get around the fact that two absolutely opposed sets of ideas stand confronting one another here. On the one side, the declaration of the divine sovereignty is put so sharp ly that human freedom seems entirely denied. On the other hand, equally sharply put is the insistence on human res ponsibility and the claim that only those who believe are the children of God. These contradictory claims can only be rightly grasped when it is seen that the prior writings of the church had stressed the sacraments as divine acts, and the later church had gone on to abuse or exaggerate those divine acts. John therefore had to both affirm the sacraments as necessary for salvation and as divine in origin, while simultaneously rejecting the superstitious accretions Precisely this same double approach is found in the meditation on the supper. In John 6:53:5V it is emphatical ly clear that there is no salvation apart from participation in the supper: "unless you eat the flesh of the Son of man 385 and drink his blood, you have no life in you; he who eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him on the last day." Nothing could be more explicit than that. Yet we read less than ten verses later, in John 6:63, that "It is the spirit that gives life, the flesh is of no avail." In John 6:27f the author addresses himself to that group which looks upon the bread and the wine as of itself sufficient, fraught with magical powers. He warns them not to labor for the food which perishes. This is not a word- for-word reporting of what Jesus said on a hillside in res pect to multiplied loaves, but it is instead his own coun sel to those in the church who ascribe efficacy to the elements alone. They are thusly lumped together in blind ness with those non-seeing Jews who followed Jesus only because of the signs which He did on those who were sick (John 6:2). Concentration on physical facts alone leads to death and not to life. The Jews think they know Jesus for they know, they think, from whence He comes. He is Joseph's son. But, seeing Him as Joseph's son, they see Him not at all. Nathanael, seeing Jesus in terms of human perspective, from Nazareth, only chuckled. It is only through the ap prehension in faith that the fulness of Jesus is seen. The same is true of the supper. The physical elements alone profit nothing. With that, John has rebutted the party which would see the sacraments in a purely physical way.^ 386 The other side must also be rebutted, and rebutted it is in John 6:60f. Those who refuse significance to the bread and the wine, those who walk away from the supper, refusing to eat the body of Christ, cut themselves off from life. The necessity of the sacrament is affirmed. Its ex cesses denied. John has battled on two fronts, both sal vaging what he had earlier received while ruling out its abuses.^ But more must be said on these two sacraments and their significance in the fourth gospel, beyond simply noting that John insists upon their necessity while denying their abuses. He also goes on to do other things which the synoptics (and Paul) failed to do. In the first place, we saw that earlier writers failed to anchor the act of bap tism in the life of Jesus. John's baptism of Jesus was told, but it was never made clear how the ceremony came to be vital within the Christian congregation. John makes the tie. Even as he traces the ministry of the church to the Centiles back to Jesus Himself by showing Jesus preaching to the Samaritan woman, so also he shows Jesus practicing baptism. We have already stated that that is not his torical fact, but rather theological innovation— as is the Samaritan woman story. We have also further noted that the description of Jesus baptizing was part of a polemic against the Baptist sect. But this polemical motivation does not exhaust the reasons behind the creation of this theological 387 fiction. Jesus must be shown (not Peter, or the disciples) as the origin and foundation of all that takes place in the church. Jesus alone is the primary character in this gos pel because He is the basis of the church. Thus any rite existing in the church must be traced back to Him. All others are lowered. The Baptist did not baptize as well as Jesus did. Moses did not supply bread which endured. The well of Jacob did not supply living water. This reduction of all those around Jesus is but part of why no independent significance can be attached to the church. The church did not institute mission. Jesus did. The church did not in stitute baptism. Jesus did. This idea is part of some thing else we noted previously, namely, John insists upon the divine prerogative almost to the point of producing a doctrine of divine determinism. There is no power active other than God's power. No one can come to Jesus unless He draw that one. Pilate has no power except it be given from above. Judas cannot even betray unless he be commissioned by Jesus. Caiaphas cannot even speak unless he end up un willingly a mouthpiece for God, This motif is important, and must be discussed separately, but we pause now simply to note that it too is part of why Jesus is shown as bap tizing. Not only does John thus succeed in grounding the prevailing sacrament within the ministry of Jesus, but he also makes us aware of a certain theological tendency, the tendency to deny all forms of dualism, the activity of all 388 wills other than G-od ! s will. To this we must return. .Tohn not only both affirms bant ism while denying its excesses. Not only does he anchor it down in the life of Jesus. He also gives the sacrament an interpretation not entirely the same as what we find in the earlier writings, notably in Paul. We already noted that for Paul baptism was not "existentially" understood. That is, it was not the product of a psychological or internal-spiritual ex perience. Rather than being the result of faith, it put one under the influence of the Holy Spirit, and it was the Spirit who conseauently produced faith. Baptism was for Paul, as it was for the synoptic writers, eschatoligically oriented. It was this act of Sod which identified the in dividual with the coming kingdom. It was related to his belief in the inbreaking of the new creation. It was not for Paul so much an individual act as it was a corporate act. That is, the Spirit was not bestowed upon an in dividual. Rather, the individual was made part of the body where the Spirit resided. Even as the evil spirit ruled over the present age, so also for Paul the Holy Spirit was the governing Spirit of the future age. And by baptism the individual was grafted into Jesus, the first fruits of that coming age. He was placed in the realm of the Holy Spirit, and his presence under the Spirit was his guarantee or assurance, the downpayment Paul says, that he would par ticipate in the coming cleansed cosmos. The stress in Paul 389 is not individualistic. He does not use such terms as "born again" which are essentially personal or individual terms. He stresses instead incorporation into the body of Christ, which is collective.^ But not so John, who is seen individualizing the sac rament. He sneaks of being born again. For him, baptism does not incorporate one into a body which looks forward to a future coming age. For him, baptism confers upon the in dividual that life here and now. "He who believes in him is not condemned; he who does not believe is condemned al ready" (John 3:18). John does not deny an element of futurity. On the contrary, there are sufficient phrases about the last day seeded throughout the gospel to make it clear that that which is begun here will be culminated later. But that does not alter the fact that the idea al ready latent in Paul, that future life begins right here and the two ages overlap, is picked up .and expressed to a degree unparalleled in PaulZ0 There has been a radical shift in emphasis. As we have already noted, the dualism of earlier thought which is essentially chronological--one age following the other— has in John been made into a new form, simultaneous. The two worlds run already side by side. And one's association with the one or the other is personalized. This is consistent with the realized es- chatology we have consistently noted in John. He is writing at the end of the first century. The promised end 390 has not appeared. Some new explanation or interpretation of the delay must be given. If one cannot wait, collec tively, -with the other members of the body of Christ for that one final hour, how then can one pass over into Sod's life? If the one ingathering of all is delayed, then, if that life is not to be denied, one must pass over into it personally and individually here and now. Therefore, John speaks of being "born again"— a personal experience— in troducing an absolutely new element into baptism. Again, we have raised issues which cannot be fully pursued as yet, and which must be postponed until we discuss eschatology per se. Nevertheless, before leaving the subject of bap tism yet another way in which John minimizes the es chatological element of the earlier writings must be noted, this time not in respect to Paul but to the synoptics. The baptism of the Baptist is an eschatological act. We see from Matt.3:7 that it frees the recipient from the wrath \^hich is to come. '.That does this mean? Whose wrath? The prevailing interpretation, that this is the wrath of God, does not stand up.^It is true that for the prophets the final fury of the last hour came from Cod. It was His divine judgement on the iniquity of the world. But in the apocalyptic writings this final fury was not the work of Cod, but rather the work of the God-opposing forces. ^It was their last attempt to resist the inbreaking forces of Cod. As Cod's kingdom drew near they would resist, at 391 tacking both God and those identified with God's kingdom. Another Johannine writing explicitly states this fact, in sisting that the final ordeal would be the work of the devil who has come down in great wrath because he knows that his time is short (Rev.12:12). Precisely this same motif is found on Jesus' lips in Katt.11:11f. In dis cussing the Baptist, He notes that since the Baptist ap peared, crying out that the kingdom of God was coming, that coming kingdom has been resisted and exposed to violence. The violent ones have been galvanized into ac tivity by the announcement of their imminent overthrow. They succeeded in putting John himself to death. It is the elect of God which stands in danger in light of the im pending distress (I Cor.7:26). Baptism was an act of divine condescension. Even as God could give beforehand, today, the bread of tomorrow, thus sustaining the elect in the time of demonic attack; just as God would condescend ingly and mercifully bring the final struggle to a rapid conclusion shortening the days lest no one survive (Mark 13*20); so also God could and would condescend to cast around the elect a protective mantle of baptism, shielding those who received it from the wrath which was to come. From this point of view, then, baptism in the ear lier gospels was essentially negative in orientation. It was not that it incorporated one into God's kingdom as much as it protected one from Satan's slants. As such, synoptic 392 baptism was absolutely inseparable from the eschatology and apocalyptic dualism which lay behind it* But John will have none of this. For him, in his day, the end has not arrived, . ' a n d some new interpretation must be given. For him baptism is no longer negatively oriented, but a shield. For him it is a positive act of an omnipotent and unchal lenged Cod who graciously through this act bestows a new beginning, a birth from above, on the person baptized. By this fact alone, we see latent in John an unqualified rejection of apocalyptic dualism (again, to this point we must return). But it must be noted that if Jesus' death is not to be seen in apocalyptic categories as a confrontation with Satan (Heb.2:lW), then some new interpretation of that death must be given. John does indeed give that new inter pretation. We have already noted that he stresses the death of Jesus as the place where man meets Sod. This is not true of Paul. For Paul, the resurrection of Christ, not the death, is the focal point of all that is essentially Christian (I Cor.l5:1^^ 17). The death is but an avenue, a means to an end, the way in which Jesus wins victory. But not so for John. It is in His death that Jesus must be seen by the Creeks if they would see Him at all. It is to the death of Jesus that the very first chapter points, in the words of the Baptist about the lamb of Cod. And in the meditation on baptism, this emphasis on the death of Jesus also appears. Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilder 393 ness, and from it came healing. So also "must the Son of man be lifted up" (John 311U-). Rather than a conflict with Satan whose weapon is death, a weapon which must be des troyed; rather than the death of Jesus being a means to an end; in this gospel the death of Jesus itself makes ex piation unto Sod. His death is atoning, He dying as the lamb of Sod for the sins of the world. In John 11:^9, the death of Jesus is spoken of in a way unparalleled in the synoptics. Always, when Jesus' death is foreseen in the synoptics, its prediction is coupled with the promise of resurrection (L'att. 16:21 , 17:22-23, 20:18-19). Hot so in John, Ihe resurrection fades in importance. The cross looms large. It is there that men find life, by looking to Jesus lifted up in death. Again, we have raised issues to which we must return, but we see that in his interpretation of baptism John has introduced a new element not found ear lier. To turn to the supper, we see that there also John has done what the earlier writings failed to do— provide an interpretation. An interpretation which not only clarifies what want before, but also transforms that which went be fore. The supper we have seen in the earlier writings was eschatological, an anticipation of the future kingdom's feast. As such it was paralleled in the feeding miracles. But no tie between the feeding miracles and the supper was ever explicitly made in the synoptics. John makes that tie, 39*+ ripping the supper out of the last night of Jesus' life and placing it solidly in relation to a feeding miracle. Now it is no longer possible to misunderstand the fact that the supper ana the feeding are part of the same package— God providing for His elect, sustaining them through all of their trials. But precisely by ripping it out of the last night of Jesus' life, the futurist eschatology of the synoptics is set aside, even as it was in respect to bap tism. ?3iJo longer is it the last act of Jesus, something undertaken in a spirit of eschatological expectation, He yearning, even as He drinks the cup, for that moment when He will drink it new in the kingdom of God. IndGed, if there is one fundamental difference in John's treatment of the supper and that in the synootics, it resides in the fact that all references to the cup are excised 1 The future feast is now. The abundance of bread, the bread of tomorrow, is a present reality. Everyone eats their fill and yet twelve baskets overflow with surplus. The rule of God is a present reality. It is a present reality for the audience of John because the death of Christ is a past fact. No longer for them is the sunper to have a forward look, peering toward the horizons of the future in an ex pectation of the parousia, but it is to have a backward look, recalling the cross. It is precisely for this reason that John 6:W puts the feeding at the time of the Passover. At that very moment when the lamb of God was being slaugh 395 tered in Jerusalem, Jesus was providing sustenance. The reader simnly is not allowed to forget the full significance of this remark which receives its full commentary in the story of the crucifixion itself. In this gospel, alone, Jesus is crucified at the very hour in which the paschal lamb is slain. On the day prior to the Passover feast, the day of preparation, ana not the day following. Life there fore comes from Jesus' death. And what the synoptics did not make clear— that the blood of Jesus .and His body bring one into fellowship with God— John affirms. It is by eating His body .and drinking His blood, it is by participating in His death, that one becomes a child of God. Apart from His death there is no life, as the plaintive and poignant words of Peter make clear (John 6s68-69). The necessity of the sacrament is not only affirmed, but its forward look, its eschatological orientation, is set aside in favor of a backward look to the cross. John, in affirming the sacrament, has rebutted those who would dismiss it as a magical rite. But he has also done more. V/hat is important in the displacement of the dialogue is not only the new location of the narrative, but that which replaces it in the original sequence of events. Now, when one reads in John the recounting of Jesus' last words in His final evening with the disciples, one reads not of the institution of the sacrament, but rather the demands of discipleship. The nedilavium replaces the sacrament. The 396 demand to be . a servant replaces a magical ceremony. Thus the sacrament is retained by placing it elsewhere, but by stripping it of the sacrosanct shadows of a mysterious final night, by pulling it out of a context where it could be seen as some superstitious final protection accorded by Jesus, ana by replacing it with a demand fof commitment leading to servanthood, John is able here to make the same noint he did in respect to baptism, namely, the sacraments are valid and efficacious only for those who do the truth, reflecting the deeds of Jesus, waiting upon one another, caring for one another by washing each other's feet. V/e have seen many motives at work in John, shaping his narrative, and producing differences beti/een his own writing and that of Paul and the synootics. There is a competition between Christianity : . i n d a Baptist sect, which led to a disparagement of the Baptist. There is a need to define the relationship of Jesus to the law. There is a need to account for the presence of the Gentiles in the church. It is necessary to rebut both those who would ex aggerate the sacraments and those who would minimize or reject them. There are apologetic or political views at work. In the light of these many motives formatively at work, one hesitates to single out one specific motive as especially or predominantly at work. Nonetheless, it ap pears necessary to do just that, for at every step of our 397 work thus far we have been forced to recognize that even tually our discussions led to an observation of the presence of realized eschatology. John's attitude toward eschatology seems to be pervasive, affecting directly or indirectly all that he has to say. Even though one hesitates to say that one factor is central and more significant than other fac tors, such a statement seems demanded. It appears that John's attitude toward eschatology is fundamental, of basic importance, being not merely one motive at work, but being the most important. Hence eschatology must be discussed directly, and that discussion must be begun with the claim that the major problem facing John was the problem of es chatology. Or, to say the same thing differently, the prob lem was rather the failure of eschatology. *Vhy had the end of the world not arrived? There simply can be no doubt that the synoptics and the Pauline epistles are eschatological throughout. They expect the end of the world in the immediate future. To summon support for this observation is to belabor the ob vious and the established. Albert Schweitzer not only restored eschatology to the vocabulary of the church, but he placed it at the very vortex of the church's teaching. His twin claims that (1) the messages of Jesus and Paul ware eschatological throughout, conditioned by the convic tion that the end of the world was coming soon, and (2) the 398 failure of the oarousia to arrive was the primary problem of the early church, have never been seriously challenged much less successfully rebutted. From this point of view, it must be clearly noted that not even G.H. Dodd, Schweit zer's opponent in the rejection of a Thorough-Going Es chatology in favor of a Realized Eschatology, ever argued that a futurist eschatology did not in fact permeate the synoptics. G.H. Dodd, just as much as Schweitzer, agreed that the synoptics were from beginning to end informed by a sense of apocalyptic expectancy which saw the world as ending in the immediate future. Where Dodd differed from Schweitzer as in insisting that this literalistic es chatology was traceable back not to Jesus but rather to the misunderstanding of the church. Both agreed that the synoptic accounts looked for an immediate end of the world. But while Schx/eitzer assumed that this belief was due to the preaching and understanding of Jesus Himself, Dodd ar gued that this sense of eschatological imminence grew out of a misunderstanding of the message of Jesus on the part of the earliest community. Jesus Himself, Dodd argued, when He spoke of a return and a final great assize, in tended to be taken symbolically and not literallyJesus, when speaking of a return, was sneaking of a return to life, resurrection, and not the return at the end of time bringing all of human history to a close. But in both of these cases the earliest church misunderstood Jesus. They took His 399 figurative language of a Day of Judgement literally rather than symbolically. And they took His reference to a return as something separate from a promise of resurrection, thus making two events out of what Jesus saw only as one event, fhus was the early eschatological outlook of the church createdIt was based upon a misunderstanding of Jesus1 true intention. Jesus, for example, had foreseen a catastrophic ,1udgement falling upon the Jews. But, says Dodd, this judgenent would take place in history .and would be of a political or military nature, and was not cosmic or apocalyotic. Jesus, as an analyst of His time, saw that the zelotic tendencies of the Jews would arouse the wrath of the Romans and bring down repressive measures— a fact realized in the destruction of Jerusalem in A.D. 70. But the early church misunderstood Jesus at this point, and took the predictions of impending disaster as part of the great cataclysmic eschatological moment which would bring all of human history to an end 7^ Out of such misunder standings on the part of the church the eschatological en thusiasm of the synoptic gospels was born. Dodd, then, does not deny that the synoptics are eschatologically oriented. He agrees that they are. But he argues that they should not have been, for such a view as foreign to Jesus' own intention and reflected a perversion of Jesus* own viexvs. Dodd argues that there are two strains of thought present in the synoptics. One sees the kingdom of bOO God as present, a realized spiritual fact. The other sees the kingdom as future, an apocalyptic hope. The former represents Jesus' true intention, and the latter is the result of the church's misunderstanding of Jesus' intention. Indeed, this misunderstanding is so pervasive and far reaching that it has all but extinguished the original view of Jesus, and the scholar must therefore painfully peel off the exaggerations of the earliest church, seeking to go behind the original gospels laying bare the message of Jesus before it came to be twisted into an eschatological message.77 In any event, the fact remains that for Dodd too the synoptic gospels were eschatological. It further remains true that the thesis of C.H. Dodd has not been widely ac cepted. On the contrary, the bulk of current theological evaluation rests on the other side, and no less a scholar than Rudolf Bultmann (who has as little patience with a futurist eschatology as Dodd) can insist that the message of Jesus Himself, and not simply the misunderstanding of that message as put down by the church, is eschatological throughout, and is grounded in the apocalyptic conviction that the present world is estranged from God. He writes: The dominant concept of Jesus1 ' message is the Reign of God. Jesus proclaims its immediately impending irruption, now already making itself felt. Reign of God is an eschatological con cept. It means the regime of God which will destroy the present course of the world, wipe out all the contra-divine, Satanic power under 1 + 0 1 which the present world groans. With such a message, Jesus stands in the historical con text of Jewish expectations about the end of the world and God *s new future. And it is clear that his thought is not determined by the national hope then still alive. Rather, Jesus' message is connected with the hope of other circles which is primarily documented by the apocalyptic literature, a hope which awaits salvation not from a miraculous change in in historical (i.e. political and social; conditions, but from a cosmic catastrophe which will do away with all conditions of the present world as it is. The presupposition of this hope is the pessimistlc-dualistic view of the Satanic corruption of the total world-complex. (**2:1,if-5" ) We t alee it, then, without further development, that this point of view expressed by Bultmann summarizes well the evaluation of Jesus' message as it aonears in the synoptics which is given by contemporary theology. Jesus' message in the synoptics is eschatological, apocalyptical ly an literalistically understood. The end of the world is seen as in the near future. But the end of the world did not come. The failure of the parousia was the primary problem of primitive Christianity. And to this problem John addresses himself. The shining future so ardently expected had never materialized. The very essence of Jesus' proclamation had never come about. Warm hope had bean sicklied over by the grey gloom of disillusionment, and was about to pass over into despair and then abandonment of Jesus Himself. That which He foresaw had not come about. It was as simple as that. There were only two alternatives. One was to reject the message of Jesus en J+02 tirely, for it was .an unfulfilled failure. The other was to seek: to reinterpret that message of Jesus, thus both salvaging it and making it relevant. This latter John sought to do. He was the first proponent of demythologizing as he sought to retain the content of Jesus' message while altering the form.^8 As a consequence, we see in John, side by side, both a realized eschatology and a futurist eschatology. On the one side, we see an emphatic endorsement of the future hope. The Johannine Jesus can clearly speak of the last day when all of human history shall cease and the resur rection life of the new age begin (John 6:39, ^O, M+, 11:2^, 12:^8). On the other hand, in what appears to be a direct contradition to John 12:^8, which speaks of a final future judgement, on the last day, there is in John 3* 1S a placing of that judgement in the present. The resur rection also is seen that way, one verse putting it in the future, and another in the present. That is the meaning of John 11:2^. In the earlier passages (John 6:39, ^0, M+, 5*+), Jesus speaks of the resurrection as a future event on the last day. That thought of Jesus is then repeated by Martha in John 11:2l +, as she confesses that Lazarus will arise on the last day. But even though she is repeating what Jesus Himself had already said, Jesus, rather than approving her statement, contradicts it, insisting that Lazarus will arise not in the apocalyptic future, but in h03 the immediate Dresent. Then follows the raisin;; of Lazarus which is in one sense the climax of the gospel, indicating that the life of the age to come has begun already, in the presence of Jesus who Himself embodies resurrection and life. The first thing to be noted is that the backward and forward motion between present and future, or, to put it another way, this bringing of the future into the present, or to put it yet another way, this determining of the future by events of the present, is not a unique creation of John. Similar views, though not explicitly developed and insisted upon, lie latent in the synoptics. For exam ple, in Matt. 12:*f1 -b2, we have Jesus discussing the future judgement. But, upon closer examination, it becomes quite apparent that that future "judgement" is not judgement at all. Rather, the judgement has taken place in the present, and the future will be but a disclosure of that which was already earlier decided* The present generation sur rounding Jesus had rejected Jesus. They were in fact al ready judged in the immediate moment, and Jesus can speak of them as an "evil and adulterous" generation (Matt.12:39)• Further, when the men of Nineveh come forth to the resur rection, it must be noted that their function will not be to weigh the fate of that evil generation, deciding between innocent or guilty. Rather, they will be brought forth to "condemn" that generation. Their fate will not be decided MOM- in the future. It has already been decided, They are con demned already, and the future will be but a revelation of that fact, a confirmation or an exposure of that present state in which they already exist due to their rejection of Jesus. The context of Mat t .25*31unrolls in precisely the same way. The passage begins by referring to the final great assize, the eschatological moment of future judgement. But then as the story of the separation of the sheep from the goats is told it becomes clear that that future separ ation is not in the deepest sense a judgement in which evidence is examined and a decision reached. Instead, the decision has already been made, and all that the future scene accomplishes is to reveal the separation which had earlier been established. It was in the failure to follow Jesus, to live a life of love and service unto those in need, not being ministered unto but ministering unto the lowly, that one's fate had been sealed. In other words, it was one's reaction to Jesus in the hour of immediate confrontation with Him which determined one's destiny. It was the person of Jesus which was of primary importance, and in His presence was found either salvation or condemnation. Those who trusted in Him rather than disputing with Him clamoring for a sign were saved. Those who obeyed His axioms and denied themselves, making themselves servants, were the ones who would sit with Him in the final great: day. Future "judgement" was but a dis closure of a relationship already established in the present hour. From this point of view, then, the fourth evangelist represents nothing new. The fact that there is found in his writing two strains of thought, one placing judgement in the future, and another indicating that it unrolls in the present, is not at all to be seen as the sign of a redactor, evidence of two hand s.^ It is to be seen as a sign of his fidelity to the tradition he received. John is simply making explicit and unmistakable that which was im plied and ambiguous in the earlier writings. In John 6:30 we have the clamoring after a sign which recalls Matt.12:39 and its reference to an evil generation seeking after a sign. So concerned is John to recall that earlier clamor ing that he enters into a contradiction with his own ac count, for he has just said. John 6:26, that the Jews had already seen a sign. But the point is not historical in the passage, being instead theological. John is insisting that Jesus came to His own and they have not received Him. In that refusal to trust in Him they have already brought down judgement on themselves (John 3*18), Tor sin consists of not believing in Jesus (John 16:9), and it is unbelief which makes one a child of Satan (John 8:^2-Mf). In like manner, the criterion of judgement of Matt. 25i31f, the demand for love, is made explicit in John. The 1+06 commaads to love one another begin in earnest in John 13*3*+-35 -and reach their climax in chapters fourteen and fifteen, and it must be noted that they are precipitated by the departure of Judas. He has not loved. He has not denied himself and given himself in service. He is al ready, in the immediate moment, and not in the eschatolog ical future, under the influence of Satan, separated from the company of Jesus. At this point, then, two things must be said. The first is that John has not introduced something essential ly new into his narrative. The idea of a future judgement which is not in fact a judgement but only a disclosure of a state already arrived at in the present is an idea which he found rather than an idea he created. However, the second thing to be noted is that while both ideas are in the synoptics (a future and a present judgement), there is in John a dramatic shift of emphasis. In the synoptics, while it is true that the present relationship to Jesus determines what future judgement will be passed, it is in fact the futuro judgement which is stressed. In John the future judgement has receded in emphasis and it is the present relationship to Jesus which is stressed. This is part of his realized eschatology. Since the end has not come, and since it has become apparent after a passage of almost seventy years that it may be delayed indefinitely, b07 he has sought to transfer attention from the final assize over to the person of Jesus in the present moment. No un biased reader can fail to note this transfer of emphasis, and indeed no one has seriously sought to deny this em phasis on the present. Indeed, the shift of emphasis is so obvious that all of scholarly argumentation in this area of discussion finds itself obliged to argue in the opposite direction, seeking to assert that the futurist element has Ro not disappeared entirely.ou Our argument thus far has sought to show that in the realm of eschatology per se John does not represent some thing intrinsically new. There is a shift of emphasis from future to present, but the intrinsic relationship of future and present remains qualitatively the same as that which we find in the synoptics. In both cases, we find the insis tence that one’s relationship to Jesus in the immediate moment determines what one's final destiny will be. The final judgement, therefore, is but a disclosure of a fact already determined. It is not, therefore, in a discussion of eschatology in isolation that we see that which is radically different in John. Rather, it is in his attitude toward those things which go with eschatology that we see his innovations. The eschatological hope, the yearning for the end of the world, was not born in a vacuum. It was the product of a prior i f08 conviction— the conviction that the present world was under the sway of Satan. This conviction is clearly seen in the quotation from 3ultmann given a few pages earlier. As he correctly noted, the "presupposition of this hope is the nessinistic-dualistic view of the Satanic corruption of the total world-complex." It was this conviction that the present age was evil which produced the hope for the end of the present age and the establishment of the new. It is precisely here that the failure of the parousia had its greatest effect on John. The failure of the end of the and of the world to arrive demanded a new evaluation of the world. As long as there was the widespread and unqualified conviction that the world was ranidly hastening to its close, one could look on the world as evil and under the sway of Satan without being troubled by theological prob lems as to the nature of Sod. God was great and God was good, more powerful than any foe He faced, and He was coming soon to destroy all His enemies and restore once more the creation to its original pristine purity. But when the parousia had been delayed so long that its imminence could no longer be considered in such an unqualified way, the world could no longer be seen only negatively. For, to do so was to call into question the very nature of God. Why b09 had He not cleansed the world? If the world was truly un der the malignant influence of God-opposing forces, and yet it continued, only two alternatives seemed possible as con clusions, both of them calling into question the nature of God, Hither God was unable to cleanse the world, or else He was unconcerned about the world and its cleansing. One alternative challenged the power of God, the other His love. To both of these alternatives John addresses himself. This gosoel more than any other insists upon the love of 81 God. In no other gospel do we have a statement even ap proaching John 3:16’s statement of God's love and concern for the world. In like manner, in no other gospel do we have any statements as forceful as those found in John concerning the power of God. We have repeatedly seen John insisting that God alone is the sole determining will ac tive in the cosmos. Not even the enemies of Jesus are al lowed an independent existence. Pilate is reminded that he has no power except that given him from above. Caiaphas' words are twisted even against his will into a summary of Jesus' true purpose. Not even Judas is allowed to execute his designs until ordered to do so by Jesus. The power and the love of God are affirmed and thus, by this literary device, John is making clear his own conviction that the delay of the end of the world is not due to either God's 1+10 inability to accomplish His purposes nor to a laclc of com- ftP passion or love on His part. V/hy. then, is the delay of the end extended? To this John gives two answers, one practical and the other theological. Practically, the end is delayed that the elect might be gathered. The earlier apocalyptic idea that the elect would be gathered by a final eschatological in gathering accomplished by the angels has no place in this gospel. The elect is to be gathered by the disciples of Jesus. And they cannot move with the rapidity of celestial beings. Time must be allowed. And that this is the way in which the elact is to be gathered— by the church and not by angels— John has already shown to be the purpose of God. Since this is the purpose of God, that the elect be drawn in by this slower and more cumbersome process, it has been necessary to grant a longer time. The delay is not to be seen as a circumstance beyond the will of God, but rather as due to His own will. Even Jesus got tired in His mis sionary work, and had to sit awhile and rest by the well. But, theologically, John goes even further than that. He goes on to insist that in the deepest sense there is no longer any need for the parousia.^^The delay of the parousia is due not to God's inability or unconcern, but its rapid coming is no longer necessary. The supposition of the eschatological hope, as we have said, was the prior view that this world was under the sway of evil powers. It was if 1 1 so that the world might be cleansed and the sovereignty of God affirmed through His destruction of all evil celestial wills existing in opposition to His that men yearned for the age to come. But John insists that that cleansing has already taken place. The God-opposing forces have already been vanquished, and this world even now is cleansed and restored unto God. This conviction John expresses in two ways, positive ly and negatively. Positively, there is an affirmation of a doctrine of creation in this gospel which has no parallel in the synoptics. John begins by recalling the first chap ter of Genesis, and no sensitive reader can get past the first few words of his first verse without having his ears ring with that phrase of Genesis 1 , "and God saw that it was good." By beginning with the phrase from Genesis, "In the beginning," and by beginning with the incarnation of Jesus as the divine Word (it was with a Word that God created the world, "God said . . . and it was so"), John makes clear his conviction that with the arrival of Jesus the new creation has already begun, is now in existence. There is no need to sit with one's eyes fastened on the perhaps still far distant eschatological horizon awating the restoration of the world. The restoration has already taken place in the appearance of Jesus. The same truth is expressed negatively. Not only is God's rule affirmed as begun, but Satan's rule is insisted bl2 on as ended. No other gospel has a statement similar to John 12s31 or John 16:11* "Now1 1 shall the ruler of this world be cast out, in the present the "ruler of this world is judged." It is in the immediate activity of Jesus, and not in some future eschatological drama, that the cosmos is cleansed. Therefore this gospel alone can have the crucified Jesus insist that already, without a parousia, and indeed, even without a resurrection. His word "is finished" (John 19:30).8lf It must be noted how these two views, the positive and the negative, fit in with the idea largely noted, that this gospel allows no independent activity to any other force than God and the one through whom God works, Jesus. 3y stressing the sovereignty of God, Jesus determining not only that He shall die but even determining His manner of death, the significance of Satan is not only lessened but denied. God alone, and Jesus His servant-son, are the sole actors. V/ith the incarnation, the ending of all op position has begun, and with the crucifixion all opposition has ended. There is no need to sit in a state of apocal yptic eschatological expectation for the desired cleansing of the cosmos is already a reality. Evil may continue to exist, but that evil is no longer of a cosmic dimension, extending to celestial God-opposing powers exercising their will. Rather, that evil is now confined to men, being existential in nature (a point to which we will return).8^ *+13 This is the new motif in John, a denial of the Satanic corruption of the total world-complex. At this point John is rejecting the heritage of Qumran and this accounts, to a degree, f~>r the disparagement of the Bap tist— the representative of ^umran— which is so apparent in this gospel. The theology of Qumran is dualistic. It is not, of course, being Jewish, an absolute dualism that sees the forces of Sod and the forces resisting Sod as co equal and co-eternal. Rather, it is a limited dualism. With their Old Testament heritage ever before them the original purity of the creation was affirmed, and it was their conviction that in the future God would once more prevail. But in the immediate moment, for Gumran, this world was under the sway of demons, it was the land of Belial, and the kingdom of Satanj^They fled the world, retiring to the barren shores of the Dead Sea, to await the dramatic intervention of God. For them, the reign of God was a future hope. For John, it was a present reality. And this brings us to the subject of Gnosticism, so im portant in Bultmann*s evaluation of the fourth gospel. The actual origin of Gnosticism as a cohesive cos mological system is shrouded in the mists of the past per haps never to be fully known. Until the recent discoveries at Nag-Hamadi, the full implications of which are not yet fully clear, we had no Gnostic writings but only excerpts bib from ana evaluations of Gnostic documents passed on to us by early church fathers such as Irenaeus, Hippolytus, Origen, nnd Epiphanius and Tertullian. But all of these men had combatted Gnosticism, and their works were violent polemics against and not sober evaluations of the origin and nature of Gnosticism. The same is true of Plotinus. His work also was a polemic. In short, all of our evidence of this phenomenon consisted of attacks on it, hence ob jective evaluation seems denied us. Once the danger of Gnosticism had passed, and the church was no longer threatened by it, the teachings of this speculative school were allowed to slide off into the stagnant eddies of the past, buried with the other dead issues of bygone days. It was only the inquiries of the nineteenth century, with its concern for historical origins in general, which revived the subject and began to pass judgement on the question of the origin of Gnosticism. The first evaluation was a revivification of the views of the fathers themselves, namely, the conviction that Gnosticism was a foe from within. Harnack's famous phrase, that Gnos ticism was "an acute form of Hellenization of Christianity" as compared to the slower "chronic" Hellenization which came to be orthodox Christianity, held the field. In short, Gnosticism was judged as being a perversion growing up in and contemporaneous with early Christianity, and not an antedating competitor already on the field before the ar M - 1 5 rival of the church. It was Christianity gone astray, Christianity driven to an extreme, but it was Christianity, at least in origin and point of departure. This view, however, did not go unchallenged. As the Coptic and Kandaean texts came to light, and as the His tory of Religions school combed through the evidence, the earlier view was challenged. The hellenistic origin, held by Harnack. was shaken. The parallels, the points of con tact, existing between Gnosticism and earlier oriental beliefs came to be strongly stressed. The basic stuff of eastern religions, each in their turn--BabyIonian, Iranian, Egyptian— was put forth as the core. No overriding case could be made for any one source, and thus the general con clusion arrived at was that Gnosticism was the product of syncretism. "Gnosticism became increasingly revealing of the whole civilisation in which it arose and whose all- QQ pervading feature was syncretism." 00 The vitality of this view, which simultaneously rejects both hellenistic origin and Christianity as the place of incubation, preferring in stead oriental origins antedating the church, is seen in the fact that Bultraann has adopted this position, writing for a long time it was regarded as a purely Christian movement, a perversion of the Chris tian faith into a speculative theology, the "acute Hellenization of Christianity." Fur ther research has, however, made it abundantly clear that it was really a religious movement of pre-Christian origins, invading the West from the Orient as a competitor of Chris- *+16 tianity. We may call it a syncretistic phenomenon. (^-3:162) The issue as to origin, therefore, settles down into a choice between two possibilities. Either Gnosticism is a product of Christianity itself, following the founding of Christianity and flowing out of Christianity. Or else it .antedates Christianity, being not a consequence of it but rather a competitor. Rudolf Bultmann, as noted, has opted for the latter view, and his entire commentary on John is written from that point of view. The thesis we would maintain here is the opposite one, namely. Gnosticism is not a competitor of Christianity, exercising influence upon John and the earlier writers, but is instead a later consequence. To take it further, our thesis is that both Gnosticism and John faced the same identical problems, and that accounts for their similarities. To those identical problems they gave different answers, which accounts for their divergences. Those problems, or, better, that problem, the common departure point for both, was the delay of the end of the world. As we have seen, the delay of the end of the world, the failure of the parousia, could be explained in one of two ways. Either God was unable to accomplish His purposes, or else those purposes had already been accomplished. John worked with the one conclusion, insisting that this world was already restored to God's control, and the necessity of VI7 the parousia is thus denied. There is no promised second coming in the fourth gospel corresponding to the phrases we find in the synoptics such as Mark 13:26, Matt.2^:3 et, al. But Gnosticism went in the other direction, coming to the conclusion that God was unable to release the evil world from its servitude to evil forces. The world came to be seen as forever under the sway of malignant forces. Salvation came to be seen not as the end of the world and the creation of a new world in the future, but rather as an escape out of this evil world, the individual spirit of the believer slipping by the heavenly demonic sphere of in fluence, and arriving at the other world already in exis tence. Both Gnosticism and John grow out of the ashes of disappointed Qumran apocalyptic, John moving in one way and Gnosticism in the other direction. Both represent a rejection of the limited dualism of Qumran. ^Qumr-an saw this world as evil, but to be succeeded by the good world of the true God. But this world did not come. The hope could not continue indefinitoly. Limited dualism is a tenable position only as long as the conviction abides that it is indeed limited, and something new about to break in. When the end did not come, therefore, limited dualism was doomed to undergo a change. With John that change came in a rejection of limited dualism. This world was no longer under the control of evil powers. Satan, the ruler of this M 8 world, had already been cast down. The integrity and the purity of this world could be affirmed, .and the doctrine of creation recalled. But for the Gnostic, the limited dualism became the radical dualism of Gnosticism, positing a continuing cos mos forevar enslaved under malignant forces. The thesis that Gnosticism represents a straight-line extension of Qumran is argued for by K.M. Grant in his Gnosticism and Early Christianity. In simplest form, he argues that the Essene community of jumrnn was a splinter group of Judaism, split off from normative Judaism, hos tile (like the zealots) to the hereditary high priesthood of the Hasmoneans. Further, like the zealots, this Essene group was dedicated to the restoration of Jewish indepen dence. Their hope was this-worldly, seeking a kingdom of this world. They therefore opposed the Romans. But, true to the theocratic heritage of the Old Testament, political independence was inseparable from religious freedom. The resistance was conceived of as a religious crusade. When, however, the Romans ruthlessly crushed all military and religious resistance, the hope for a kingdom here and now perished. It perished and was replaced by a hope for a life beyond this world. Instead of victory, the community looked for escape. This was the touchstone. All that had earlier been written oriented to political freedom in this world was rewritten to conform to this new goal of escape i+19 from this world. The elaborate calendars earlier used to reckon the date of the final this-worldly victory were transformed into cosmological schemes denoting aeons and enemies in the world .^The hostile figures of the Jewish world of angelology-demonology (originally seen as standing behind political foes) were transformed into the planets and the powers and the lights of a hostile cosmos. All this was due to the collapse of apocalyptic, originally seen as a this-worldly phenomenon issuing in political in dependence for the Jewish people. The Old Testament was examined anew and dualism was then extracted, rather than prophecy; cosmic speculation was found, rather than future freedom within this world's calendar. V/ith this, the doors were thrown open to unbounded speculation and adaptation. Prime beliefs in the Old Testament were re’ worked and even rewritten, reversing their meaning. The world came to be seen as a cold and alien place, and no longer as the place where a benevolent God manifested His concern. Earlier apocalyptic had sought to free God from blame for the evil in this world, putting the onus on Satan and his fallen angels. That rewriting of Scripture by the apocalyptic groups was carried even further by the frustrated Essene community, and opened the door to later Gnostic speculation. The fact that God had authorized the activity of Satan in the Old Testament meant, to this later development, that God could no longer be relieved of responsibility for * 4 * 2 0 Sat'in's attacks. God Himself came to be seen as the op pressor.-^ The floodgates were now opened and it was just a matter of time until clearly articulated beliefs would emerge, as they did in Gnosticism, numbering Yahweh with the evil spirits and rejecting this world as being His evil creation. Grant offers what apoears to be a third alternative as to the origin of Gnosticism. Earlier, we stated that Gnosticism cooId be seen as an outgrowth of Christianity itself, a consequence; or as an antedating pre-Christian movement, a competitor. Grant has argued that it is neither. Gnosticism is instead the reconstruction of the debris of disappointed Jewish apocalyptic thought. When military victory failed to come and was indeed shown to be impossible, earlier beliefs were rewritten.^The world was rejected as a place of peace, The creator of this world and the book which testified to Him, the Old Testament, were both rejected, and Yahweh was identified with the evil powers. That which was originally temporal and politically conceived became cosmological and dualistic in orientation. In evaluating Grant's work, the first conclusion must be a positive one. There can be no doubt that he has made a contribution by bringing in the formative role of apocal yptic Judaism. This has been a neglected area. Secondly, the book challenges, in our view successfully, the view that Gnosticism was a syncretistic pre-Christian phenomenon ^21 which existed prior to Christianity. 3y making it a product of disappointed ^umran hopes, Grant has moved Gnos ticism's origin into at least the second century. Even though a scholar of the stature of Bultmann argues for its pre-Christian dating, that view is historically open to serious challenge. No amount of interpretive assertion is able to get around the facts that (l) there is no evidence of an articulated Gnostic system as being in existence before the end of the first century. And (2) there is no evidence of any Gnostic system (until the relatively late Manicheans and the Greek writings attributed to Hermes Tresmegistus) being found outside the Christian community?^ Not even Simon Magus is to be seen as an exception, for he is a Biblical character, and did come into contact with Christianity. These facts, and they are facts, must be given full weight. From these facts the very least that can be concluded is that Gnosticism cannot be seen as an early competitor antedating Christianity. It is true that points of contact can be found with earlier thought pat terns and religious systems on the one hand and Gnosticism on the other. But they are only points of contact and not lines of development. Well has Arthur Darby Nock summarized this fact when he wrote I must continue to hold that in the en vironment of early Christianity there were materials which could be built into Gnostic systems— but no Gnostic system; that there b22 was an appropriate mythopoeic faculty— but no crystallized formulation of that state of mind and no community or communities cling ing to that formulation. (175Jxiv) In another part of that same writing, Nock pursues his thought by insisting that all the texts on which information is avail able either give embroideries on the Genesis story or show acquaintance with the New Tes tament or do both. The Gospel of Thomas may twist sayings of Jesus known to us from the Synoptic gospels but they afford its prin cipal point of departure. So again the doc trines of Basilides were put forth in the form of Comments on the Gospel. Such facts speak for themselves. Let me add that it seems wholly unwarranted to take Gnostic or Manichean texts which quote the New Testament and to reconstruct from them a hypothetical forerunner of Christianity in general and of Paulinism or the Fourth Gospel in particular. After all, Iiani began each of his Epistles by describing himself as an "Apostle of Jesus Christ." (17?!xvii) This brings us to two negative statements concerning Grant's thesis. One, his basic claim that Qumran was at first this-worldly and political in orientation is open to serious challenge. The evidence seems to indicate instead that they looked for the close of human history and the recreation of the cosmos in a new heaven and a new earth. But that point is not worth pursuing here, for that is not the basic weakness of Grant. His basic weakness is that he insists on only a two-link chain, from 3umran to Gnosticism. In reality, it is a three-link chain: <4umran, Christianity, Gnosticism. Gnosticism may indeed have grown out of the ^23 debris of disappointed apocalyptic sneculation, but it was a disappointment which oassed through the filter of the church, ITock's observation must be given its full weight, namely, there is no evidence anywhere for a non-Christian form of Gnosticism. Grant himself recognizes this problem and tries to account for it. He notes that Jesus is a cen tral figure in Gnosticism, but seeks to answer that fact by stating simply that such was but a product of the syn cretism of the day. That is, the yearning for escape so characteristic of Gnosticism was affected by Christianity1s contemporaneous preaching of a redeemer-God. This Judaism gone astray, thrashing around for some central figure to place at the core of its redemptive program, borrowed the Christ figure from the church. That the Gnostic redeemer, then, is always Jesus, is due to this fact that Jesus was simply borrowed as a model. Such a device is ingenious,but incredible. That a Jewish religious system should adopt Jesus as its central figure in a time when the breech between Judaism and the church had hardened into an impasse is impossible to believe. Far more logical is it to assume that Gnosticism itself was born within the church. 3oth orthodox Christianity (rep resented here by John) and heretical Christianity (represen ted by Gnosticism) began with the heritage of Qumran, the limited dualism which yearned for the end of the world in * * 2 * + the immediate future. But when the parousia did not arrive the dualism of Qumran was rejected. The end result is the realized eschatology and the denial of demonology which we find in John, a rejection of limited dualism. And the ab solute or metaphysical dualism of Gnosticism on the other hand, which is also a rejection of Qumran1s limited dualism. It is only by such a process that all of the com plicated factors can be properly held in place. By seeing Gnosticism as a consequence of disappointed Christian- Qumran eschatologic.nl expectation, we can see why it is that there is no early Gnostic system -and why all later Gnostic systems have Jesus at their center. We can also ac count for the fact that the fourth gospel has so many points of contact with -and yet so many divergences from Qumran theology And we can further account.for the fact that, while Gnosticism rand the fourth gospel have much in common, they have nothing in common in their final attitudes. The one is hostile to the Old Testament, the other affirms the Old Testament. The one affirms the world as good, the other rejects the world as under the perpetual power of evil forces. They are absolutely alike in that both see a con tinuing cosmos and the parousia has disappeared as an im portant event. But for the one the parousia is no longer necessary, while for the other it is an impossibility. Though both of them see the new age as already in existence, b25 running simultaneously alongside the present age, they have nothing in common in the deepest sense. For Gnosticism, the world is evil and alien to God who is unable to make it new, whereas for John this world is cleansed and the plea of Jesus that God's will might be done on earth as it is in heaven fulfilled. It is, because of their absolutely opposite answers to the question of the delay of the return of Jesus, that the later Gnostics simply ignored the gospel of John, for they recognized that even though it, like their own teachings, sot aside a narousia claiming that the new world was already in existence, they were forever separated from the position of John because of his view of of the world as good.96 John's new view of the world and of Satan's role in it necessitated a new view of man, of sin, aid of suffering. As long as the world was darkly seen from the viewpoint of apocalyptic dualism, man could be seen as helpless, sin could be seen as slavery, and suffering could be seen as an attack on the elect by the God-opposing forces. In the synoptic gospels, man is open to the inter ference of supernatural powers, able to possess him without any consent or co-operation on man's part. They are ac tually able to speak through his larynx (Mark 1:23-26); they invade in multiple numbers (Mark 5:9); and their presence is always malevolent, bringing hurt and self-destruction on k26 those possessed (Hark 5:5« 9J22 ert ai.). Whether these manifestations can better be explained today in terms of epileptic seizures or mental aberrations is, from our point of view, entirely irrelevant, for what they reflect is an anthropology of the synoptics— an anthropology which held that man was exposed to invasion by malignant celestial forces. Man was helpless to resist their advance. Thus it is that on the one hand the exorcisms have numerical superiority over any other form of miracle in the synoptics, and, on the other hand, that Jesus always looked upon the possessed ones not as supremely evil persons, victims of their own collaboration with evil powers, but rather as supremely unfortunate people for whom He had compassion.97 Implied in this anthropology of the synoptics is a given view of suffering. Suffering was not seen as a chas tisement of Sod given for a purgative purpose or for a punitive end. It served no purpose at all. Apocalyptic thought, of which the synoptics are a product, had aban doned the Deuteronomic principle of retribution, good for good and evil for evil, and had replaced it with a portrait of blacker hues. We have already seen, and approved, Kuhn's extended discussion of peirasmos, in which he says that this tribulation was Satanic in origin, aimed at those dearest to Sod. Identification with Sod in a world es tranged from Sod exposed one to violence. This rejection of the principle of retribution, coupled with the insistence b2 7 that suffering stems not from God working with a positive purpose but rather from Satan at work with an evil one, is clearly seen in Luke 13. In the first five verses, Jesus is shorn rejecting the proposition that as a man sows so shall he reap. It is flatly denied that those who suffered much deserved so to suffer. Then, in Luke 13:16, a woman of faith, "a daughter of Abraham," is encountered and Jesus unambiguously traces her affliction back to Satan. This same point of view underlies the beatitudes of chapter six in Luke. In Luke 6:20-22 nothing is said of any spiritual or internal attitude. Instead, the sign of one's blessed ness is the measure of one's deprivation. Tribulation, seen in hunger or poverty, manifest in weeping, comes to be the negative indication that one is a member of the elect, blessed, and consequently exposed to the attack of the evil one. The Lukan Jesus does not even hesitate from stating the opposite, namely, that those estranged from God will prosper. Luke 6:21 +-26 can insist that those who are well fed, laughing and rich, will be subject to eschatological judgement. To prosper in a world held by Satan is in itself evidence of collaboration with Satan, hence a sign of alienation from God— an alienation which will carry judgement In its wake. This motif runs throughout Luke. It is the rich fool who Is a rich fool (Luke 12:16f). In the parable of Luke I6:9f it is the rich man who is borne to the torments of Hades whereas the beggar Lazarus is car- ^28 ried to Abraham's bosom. Nothing is said of either man's spiritual attitude, or faith, or lack of it. Instead, the sole criterion, apparently, determining their future des tiny is their present status. One was poor and one was rich. The poverty was a negative sign of dearness to Sod and attack by Satan, while wealth was an indication of a league with the evil one, for in no other way could one achieve wealth in a world in which Satan held sway. This is not to say, therefore, that suffering and poverty were desirable states, to be sought after by the elect.98on the contrary, Jesus Himself prays for the dis ciples, and teaches them to pray, for exemption from suf fering, pleading with Sod to deliver them from the peiras- mos and keep them from the hands of the evil one (Matt.6: 13). Money in itself is not evil, and Jesus can praise the widow who uses her little in the glorification of Sod (Mark 12:h-2f). Jesus can pray for Peter that he fall not into the hands of Satan (Luke 22:31). Suffering is not to be sought. It is not a desirable end. It serves no positive purpose. It is negative, an indication that one's dearness to Sod has led to an attack by the evil one. It is from this point of view that the many miracle stories Df the gospels unroll. Hunger, as we have seen, was understood as a form of Satanic tribulation, thus Jesus feeds the multitudes. The storms at sea were understood as evidences of demonic power, thus Jesus can use the same If29 # / / words and pi^uf&y^VL ) on the demon in Mark 1 S25 and on the storm at sea (£tt£ rt^ijfrs,v and Tf£<piju.ujtro) in Mark i39. The synoptic miracles are ends in themselves. They are not existentially oriented nor to be seen as visible signs of an internal occurence. Opening of blind eyes is not a symbol of spiritual illumination. It is it self a repulse of Satan who causes physical blindness. The synoptic miracles are not signs pointing beyond themselves to a religious attitude, but are themselves part of the apocalyptic worldview which saw the world as under the sway of Satan who caused suffering. As such, the miracles are attacks, a lessening of Satanic power, and Jesus can insist that the arrival of the kingdom of Sod is in direct propor tion to the routing of the demons (Matt. 12:28). Man, then, for the synoptics, is helpless. Exposed to this malignant interference of supernatural forces, he stands in need not of an example to follow nor in need of a call to radical obedience. Rather, he stands in need of a savior, one who can wrench him free from the metaphysical bondage in which he finds himself. It is precisely in this way that the synoptics portray Jesus. In Mark 3:27, it is Jesus' own claim that He has come to bind the strong man, and Luke **:18 follows this up with Jesus' insistence that He has come to proclaim release to the captives. The exorcisms are attacks by Jesus, direct attacks on the per ^30 sons of the demons. The other miracles, feeding and healing and stilling the storms, are likewise attacks, but indirect attacks on the weapons of the demons. Thus it is that the oldest word used to describe the work of Jesus was O’ totetv meaning to heal, to make whole, which later came to mean to be saved. To be healed was to be saved, rescued from Satanic power. The obverse side is also true in the synoptics. Sven as a man could be entered into and controlled by evil for ces able to possess him so fully that they could actually speak through his vocal chords, so also man was open to the invasion of the Holy Spirit who could make His own utteran ces through man. The disciples are told not to be anxious how or ’ what they are to say in the moment of affliction "for the Holy Spirit will teach you in that very hour what you ought to say" (Luke 12:12). The Holy Spirit and the evil spirits are opposites but alike in that both reflect the same anthropology, the conviction that man can be taken over by powers external to himself which will rule his con duct. 99 The apostle Paul shares all these same basic ideas. He too insists upon the helplessness of man, insisting that "I can will what is right, but I cannot do it" and twice going on to insist that the evil actions which characterize his own life are not of his doing— "it is no longer I that **31 do it but sin which dwells within me" (Rom.7:15-20)• Sin for Paul is not an action of responsible man, but bondage, invasion by evil powers.^®®In precisely the same way, faith or the expression of allegiance to God is also not an act of responsible man, but the creation of a supernatural power at work in man. The only difference is that in this case the power is benevolent, the Holy Spirit. Paul can write that "no one can say 'Jesus is Lord1 except by the Holy Spirit" (I Cor.12:3), and in another place insist that faith itself (not, as the R.S.V. translates, "faithful ness"— the word is 7T/Vr/5) is a fruit of the Spirit (Gal. 5:22). As the synoptics saw suffering as negative, so also Paul insists that suffering is an attack of Satan (II Cor. 12:7). In defending his disputed apostleship. with those Corinthians it is to his sufferings that he points as evidence of his true worth unto God (II Cor.11:l6-29). He has been powerfully used of God, and as such he has been especially exposed to the peirasmos which comes from the evil one. But Paul, like Jesus before him, refuses to con clude that suffering is therefore to be sought after, and he tells us that he has prayed for release (II Cor.12:8). All of these views— man as helpless, sin as slavery, suffering a work of the evil one— were possible for the synoptics and for Paul because for them the present age was ^32 an evil age (Gal.1 :*t), and the "world rulers" were the "spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places" (Bph.6:12). But "the sufferings of this present time" (Rom.8:18) were not worth troubling over because the "creation itself will be set free from its bondage" (Rom. 8:21) in the immediate future. As long as this hope of eschatological release was warm, one could see the trials of this world as stemming not from God but from the God- opposing forces. But John lived in a day when the end had not come, in a day when it was no longer even possible to believe that it was coming soon. The world had to be given a positive interpretation, which John did. But also new views of sin, of man, and of suffering were demanded. Here too the delay of the end was of fundamental and formative force in the theology of John. For John, suffering as stemming from Satan is denied. The older Deuteronomic principle of retribution is restored. In. John 5:" l 1 + there is the flat and explicit insistence that suffering is from God, a punitive measure, and that measure, it is said, is in direct proportion to one's evil acts. The healed blind man is exhorted, "See, you are wellI Sin no more that nothing worse befall you." This insistence that suffering is in exact proportion to one's evil acts is even raised, in this gospel, to a level of works righteous- ^33 ness. Salvation is tied directly to one's actions. In the same chapter in which the blind man is healed and then cautioned to sin no more lest he suffer more, John goes on to have Jesus say that when the final hour comes and all exit from their tombs those who have done good will come forth to the resurrection of life and those who have done evil will come forth to the resurrection of judgement (John 5:29). John. 9:1 apoears, at first glance, to be a denial of the principle of retribution and a return to the older apocalyptic view mirrored in the synoptics. The disciples ask who has sinned that the man should be born blind, he or his parents. Jesus answers that the blindness is not at all the result of sin. Upon closer examination, however, the truth of this passage is seen to lie far from the range of apocalyptic thought. It becomes clear that while indeed this suffering is not punitive or purgative, it is still nonetheless due to the will of God and has a positive pur pose. Here, suffering is put forth not as an evil act of Satan but as an exnression of God's will— a means to an end. The man was born blind in order that through him "the works of God might be manifest" (John 9:3). Tragedy and afflic tion may not always be a punishment, but they are always positively geared to God's will and an expression of His purpose, although at times an indirect expression. It is precisely in that way that the death of Lazarus is told. We are told on the one hand that Jesus loved Lazarus, and on the other hand that Jesus weeps when He approaches the tomb. Nonetheless we are tola the astounding bit of infor mation that "when he heard that he was ill, he stayed two days longer in the place where he was" (John 11:6). Jesus purposely tarried, refusing to come ("Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died"--John 11:21) so that Lazarus could die. Jesus loved him, and yet let him die, because that illness was "for the glory of God, so that the Son of God may be glorified by means of it" (John 1l:*f). Suffering is no longer Satanic affliction. It is a pur poseful expression of God's will, in John 5 being a just punishment on the evil-doer, but in John 9 and 11 being a means of silhouetting God's glory, revealing Jesus as the light of the world in one case and as the resurrection and the life in the other. It is for this reason that the miracle stories as they apnear in John are of a dramatically different number and nature from what they are in the synoptics. Not only are they sharply trimmed in total number, being reduced to the symbolic number of seven, but they are themselves symbols, or, as the evangelist says, "signs." Signs pointing beyond themselves, they are no longer ends, attacks on the forces of evil holding man in bondage. Rather, they are ^35 soiritual entities and their moaning is to be grasped spiritually. As "signs'* they point beyond themselves, tes tifying to Jesus, The real import of the water into wine and the multiplication of bread is not that Satanic hunger was ended, but rather than Jesus is the true bread, satis fying the deepest spiritual cravings of raan,"*0^ The miraculous acts of Jesus can no longer be put forth as attacks, for if they are so seen, on whom are the attacks being made? John has already insisted that God alone is the sole will active in the cosmos, and that that cosmos is good, of God, Thus the miracles must be put into a different context, apart from the synoptic acts.^®3 This John does, nutting them forward as but concrete acts of a deeper symbolic meaning. The raising of Lazarus seeks to show that in Jesus true life is found. The healing of the blind man becomes a sign of inner, spiritual illumining as the later discussions of blindness with the Jews, in chapters eight and nine make clear.^^ Even as the idea of suffering is transformed, so also the view of sin is altered. Suffering is a punishment of God poured out on responsible man for his sin. In other words, sin is no longer seen as slavery but rather as rebel lion, the perverse refusal to receive Jesus who came to His own but was not received by His own.^^or Paul,, sin was slavery. These hvil invading forces then went on to produce evil acts ('‘it is no longer I but sin which dwells within me"). That is, for Paul, the sequence was first slavery and then individual wrong acts. Man's condition of cap tivity resulted in perverse actions. Or, to use the synoptic language of Jesus, if the tree was bad the fruit would be also. But for John the sequence is reversed. If there is anything approaching bondage for John, it is a 4 consequence and not a cause of sin. The Johannine Jesus can say ' ’everyone who commits sin is a slave to sin" (John 8:3*+). Being a "slave to sin" is not metaphysical but metaphorical, or better, psychological. Slavery to sin is but the cumulative force of habit. He who sins often is eventually unable to do anything but sin, for the habit has become possessive. But the possessiveness of it is the consequence of the individual’s abuse of his own freedom and responsibility. It is because the Jews do not believe in Jesus that they are of their father the devil, not vice versa. Satan, in this gospel, is not able, as he is in the synoptics and Paul, to enter an individual unwelcomed and unwanted. He can enter in only because the individual has co-operated with Satan or compromised himself .^^This is why the one miracle numerically superior to all the others in the synoptics, exorcism, has disappeared entirely from the fourth gospel. It simply will not square with John's con viction that the world Is cleansed and man is free. The world is not the playground of evil forces able to sweep in M -37 on a man. This Is 3od1s world and man is responsible !08The only hold Satan can have is through man's own default. The role of Judas is most enlightening as to this gospel's view. In John 13;21-30 Satan almost seems to enter into Judas through some diabolical sacrament, the poor man appearing to be helpless. On the one hand, Jesus orders him to do what he has to do. On the other hand, once ordered to do what Jesus commands, Satan enters into him. He seems to be overwhelmed on two fronts; commanded by Jesus and possessed by Satan. But John has carefully planted seed thoughts prior to that context which supply the necessary ingredients for comprehending aright what truly took place. In that very context, John 13:29, we are reminded that Judas held the money box, being treasurer of the group. The remark is not incidental. Nothing is incidental or casual in the fourth gospel. Instead, the money box is specifically men tioned in order to recall what was said earlier in John 12: 6, Judas was a thief. He held the money box and he stole from it. This is why Satan could enter in. Because Judas had already compromised himself. Already his character was tainted. He was in no synoptic sense invaded by evil for ces. He was a free and responsible man who had separated himself from Jesus long before the events of the final meal. But even that does not exhaust the insights that John gives in respect to Satan, for the other point noted must also be treated. That is, as we saw, Judas appears to be 1*38 hit on two sides--commanded by Jesus and possessed by Satan. Satan and Jesus, in this gospel alone, seem to work with a common purpose. We are, here, once more returned to the world of the Old Testament which nreceded apocalyptic. In the Old Testament, it is true that Satan's role was to rain down suffering upon man, as we see in the preface to the drama of Job. Satan's actions were, from man's point of view, evil, for they were fraught with suffering. But in the deepest sense Satan was a loyal servant of Sod and as such he took his place among the other sons of God who ap peared before the Most High. Apocalyptic had reversed this, insisting that suffering was not the work of God but of the God-opposing forces who had rebelled against Him. John reverses apocalyptic which had reversed the Old Testament, and returns to the older view. In John 13 Jesus and Satan work together with a common purpose. The evil work of Satan has already, in Jesus' own life time, ended, and the strong man bound, subjected once more to the execution of God's will. Just as Caiaphas is forced to be an unwilling prophet, speaking of God's aims despite his own resistance to those aims, just as Pilate is told that he has no in dependent power of his own but rather all that he does is determined from above, so also Satan is forced once more to accomplish God's purposes and God's alone. He has become a servant— perhaps an unwilling servant, like C a ia p h a s— but a servant nonetheless. It is God alone who rules. 1°9 ^39 In the sane ivray that the role of Satan is reversed from that which we find in Paul and the synoptics, so also is the role of the Holy Spirit. In the title given to the Holy Spirit in John the apocalyptic thought world Is recal led, but only to be rejected. As is well known, the word Satan in the Old Testament is less a name and more a title. Adversary or Advocate is legal language. Satan was the heavenly prosecutor, the district attorney of the heavenly council. As such it was his job to spy out the ones feigning piety in order to reap the blessings of Sod. This is the role he plays in Job. Later apocalyptic transformed him from servant to enemy, and the title became a name. C / John, in calling the Spirit O 7 T & f > c < K A ^ T o ^ rightly trans lated Counselor by the R.S.7. thus recalling the legal ter minology, goes on to call the Spirit another Counselor. He is the new replacement, the other, or another, divine ser vant. Precisely the same Old Testament role of Satan, the legal arm of the heavenly council, is now assigned to another. Satan, poisoned by apocalyptic thought, must be replaced by another attorney. Further, this new represen tative comes not as a prosecutor but as a defense attorney. He will protect the elect, aiding them, rather than seeking to spy on them. When Jesus leaves He will not leave them orphaned (oi/C <k</> O/o^Vat^John This new or other Counselor shall indeed retain his negative Old Testament purpose of indicting, but it shall not be a pur- MfO pose worked on the believer as was the case with Job. In stead, that negative work shall be in relationship to the element of the world which has refused to believe in Jesus (John 16:8-9). For the elect, He comes only as a friend (John 1^:26). That verse not only insists upon the divine origin of the Counselor (He "proceeds from the Father" even as did the Old Testament Satan), but He comes to "bear wit ness" to Jesus. He is an aid, not .an adversary. But even more than that, it must be noted that He only bears witness. He Himself does not, as in both the synoptics and Paul, provide that witness. It is not the Holy Spirit who speaks in the individual, as in I Cor.12:3» but it is the Holy Spirit who witnesses to the responsible individual en couraging that individual to make his own personal response of faith. From that point of view, the twentieth chapter is highly important. It is true that in John 20:22 the Holy Spirit is given to the disciples. But it is also true that Thomas is not present at that time, John 20:2**. Yet, despite the fact that he has not received the Holy Spirit, Thomas can make his powerful confession of faith, "My Lord and my Sod 11 1 (John 20:28).^^ Faith is a personal act of the responsible individual. At this point John represents something entirely different from anything found earlier. It Is useless to ransack a concordance seeking to find a precedent for John in Paul, as evidenced by his frequent use of the language of faith Mu and of believing, for we have already seen that Paul sees this act of faith as the work of the Solrit. In John, it is a personal work of responsible man. No other New Tes tament writing insists as strongly on the significance of the personal act of faith. It Is only he who believes who does not perish but has everlasting life (John ^n<3 it is he who does not believe who is condemned already (John 3:18), and neither the immediate context nor the general conceptual thought of John allows us to conclude that that act of believing is anything other than the act of the individual. We see here, then, another form of John's rejection of apocalyptic thought as preserved and built upon at Qum- ran. For them the world was of Belial, and suffering a sign of Satanic affliction. John has reacted and rejected. Indeed, to close this section, one could even say that John has over-reacted. So concerned has John been to deny the oervasive power of the evil one, insisting upon the power of God alone, that he has replaced the ^umranian apocalyptic Satan-deterrainism with a new God-determinism. So insistent has he been in denying the activity of any and all wills working in opposition to God, making Gaiaphas, Pilate, and Judas (and even Satan) servants of God that he has created, probably even unknown to himself, a point of view whereby God determines all things to such an extent that the very responsibility of man which he Is seeking to affirm comes to M+2 be denied J tAgain and again, we find phrases in this gospel, so concerned with stressing the sovereignty of God, that they end up denying the responsibility of man. John 15J6, "You did not choose me, but I chose you," is but one of them. John 6:^, "No one can come to me unless the Father ’ who sent me draws him," is another, as is John 6:65, "No one can come to me unless it is granted him by the Father." Again, no precedent can be found for these remarks by turning to Paul. It is true that Paul had a doctrine of predestination. But for Paul it was essentially positive, and it was grounded in the apocalyptic view. Convinced that the world was evil and under the sway of powers superior to man, Paul was therefore further convinced that man could be rescued only by a mighty act of God. Predes tination for Paul therefore was a doctrine of comfort, an assurance to the troubled believer that the malignant at tacks of the evil one seeking to wrench him away from the love of God would not prevail. Paul can speak of predes tination In Rom.8:29-30, but on the one hand he introduces the remarks by recalling man's helplessness (Rom.8:26, to be read in the light of Rom.7* 1 5-20), insisting that the Spirit helps us in that weakness, and then goes on to cry out that nothing in all of creation can separate the elect from the power of God (Rom.8:31-39). That very context makes clear his conviction that the evil powers, the prin cipalities, are indeed seeking to separate the elect from ^ 3 God, raining down on thorn tribulation, distress, famine, and persecution, but they shall not orevail "for I am sure that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord." For Paul, predestination is postive, ana apocalyptically oriented. It is the assurance that even though one lives in the present evil age subject to the ravages of the God-opposing forces the sufferings of the present hour are not worth brooding over for the day of liberation is near and God will prevail (Rom.8:18-23) • ^ John's view is entirely other. For him, as we have seen, the eschatological-apocalyptic orientation has been rejected. God is already in control. And so powerfully is that rejection of apocalyptic mouthed, so powerfully is the present sovereignty of God maintained, that John falls into the error of replacing Satan-determinism with his own God- deterrainism, thus denying the responsibility he so ardently tried to affirm. There is a basic contradiction here in the thought of John which he himself no doubt did not see, but a contradiction the origin of which is entirely clear in the light of his attempt to affirm the supremacy of God.^^ This new view of man, of sin, of the world, and of the source of suffering in the world demanded a new view of the work of Jesus. Or perhaps it is more accurate to say that the same factor--the delay of the parousla--which produced MU,_ r i i John's new view of man, sin, and the world, also produced or demanded a new understanding of the work of Jesus. We have been taught by Custaf Aulen to think of the work of Jesus in terms of the three theories of the Atone ment : the Anselnian, or penal-satisfaction theory; the Abelardian, or moral renewal theory; and the classic or Christas victor motif. Now ths claim will not be made here that any of these three motifs is presented as a finished structure in any of the New Testament writings. Hather, the New Testament documents held building blocks which were later quarried and the theories constructed. But while none of these theories are present in finished form, the basic underlying motifs resting behind these theories can be spied out in varying shades and degrees in the different New Testament books. We must, then, before we can compare John to the synoptics, noting how he differs from them, give an overview of the main thoughts ana emphases of each of these three theories. In the Abelardian scheme man is seen as free and res- ponsible--but rebellious. He abuses his freedom and turns his back on Cod. The only thing separating him from Cod, then, is his own perverse rebellion. There is no objective barrier, but only his subjective rebellion. The cross of Jesus produces moral renewal. Cazing on the self-sacrifice of Jesus, the rebel sees two things. First, he sees the enormous love of Jesus in that He would submit to such ¥+5 abuses. He also sees that the self-giving life is richer than the self-seeking. Kan responds to this love, turns over a new leaf, seeks to walk in a new way. The way of obedience, rather than rebellion, using Jesus as exemplar and model, becomes his. In this theory, the chief emphases are on the love of Jesus, on the freedom of man, on the idea of sin as rebellion, and on the cross where Jesus revealed His love leading man to set aside his rebellion. Jesus is seen not essentially as redeemer, but rather as example, showing man the proper way to live. The danger, of course, of this view, taken in isolation, is that Jesus can be reduced to only good example, model to follow, and further, the binding effects of sin both theologically and psychologically are ignored. Indeed, the emphasis on im mediate moral renewal is so great that the cumulative bur den of past wrongs is ignored. One's decision in the present is sufficient to wipe away the evil of the past. In the final analysis, such a view challenges a sense of the absolute and calls into question the very justice of Sod.1llf The Anselmian view also begins with the supposition of man’s freedom, a freedom which has been abused. But here, the emphasis is not on the rebellion itself, but on the consequences of that rebellion. Bin is seen essential ly as guilt. It is not simply the subjective attitude of man which separates him from Q-od, but the objective fact of M+6 cumulative guilt. Man is guilty and unclean, unable to stand in the presence of a holy God. Guilt demands a price. It is not sufficient to simply say "I am sorry" and expect the slate to be wiped clean. Restitution must be made. But guilty man is unable to make that restitution, for even if man were to lead a perfect life he would have no ac crued merit. He would only have done what was demanded of him, for man is but a servant and God is Lord. But man has not been oerfect. He has robbed God of honor by rebelling against Him, and he stands alienated from God, separated by the objective fact of his guilt. Satisfaction must be made to the offended honor of God. But man cannot make that satisfaction. Only God can. Hence the dilemma. Only man should make satisfaction, but only God can make satisfaction This is both the problem and the answer of Anselm's Cur Deus Homo. Since only God can make restitution, but since man is the guilty one and ought make restitution, God be comes man In Jesus and offers up His own sinless life as substitutionary satisfaction for the sinful life of man. Salvation is understood in terms of a celestial scale, guilt on one side of the balance and satisfaction on the other. Jesus pays that price, or makes that satisfaction. Again, as In the Abelardian view, but for a different reason, the cross is central. It is there, in the cross, that guilt was punished and the justice of God satisfied. Here, then, the main emphases are on the justice of God, on the cross, M *7 and on the freedom of man which has been abused. The dan ger of this motif, taken in isolation, is that it presents a cold and forbidding picture of God, offering little com fort. God is a judge, a dispenser of justice. It is true that He finds a way to provide the necessary satisfaction, but this is almost obscured by His penal demands. Indeed, when the element of love comes to the fore, it seems to cen ter in Jesus alone who offers His own sinless self to the demands of the Father. The Anselmian theory tends almost inevitably to shatter the unity of the Jodhead, pitting the ministry of the loving Son against the harsh demands of the Father. ^ ? The classic theory proceeds from an entirely different orientation. It begins not with the assumption of man's freedom, but with the conviction that man is in bondage to the devil. The essential need of man is not, as in the Abelardian theory, for a human example to follow, but for a divine redeemer, able to accomplish for man what helpless man is unable to accomplish--the defeat of the celestial foe holding him in servitude. The divine redeemer's work is to "destroy the devil, and all his works, and all his ways." The greatest weapon of the devil is death. The emphasis is therefore not on the cross but on the resurrection. The cross is not an end in itself— a place where satisfaction is made unto the justice of God, or where man is renewed— but rather a means to an end. It is the means by which Jesus 1 + 1 * 8 enters into death in order to destroy him who has the power of death, that is, the devil. Here the emphasis is not on the love of God but on the power of God. That is not to say that the love of God is incidental or of no value. If He did not love, He x^ould not intervene. Nonetheless, if there was not sufficient power in God's ambassador Christ to overcome the evil one that love of God would be of no value. The emphasis, then, is on the superiority of God in Christ, on the power of God able to defeat the evil one. There is no possibility, here, of oitting Father against Son, for the two are engaged in the joint work of shatter ing the strong man's realm and setting at liberty those oppressed. The danger, here, when this view is taken in isolation, is that salvation can be construed in purely mechanical terms, involving no response of nan. It is a process 'which takes place independently of any subjective attitude of man, for man is not seen as responsible but as enslaved. Now, in the writings nreceding John, it is clear that there are building blocks available for the construction of either an Abelardian or an Anselmian theory of the work of Jesus. In the synoptics, for example, there are repeated demands by Jesus for repentance, and an often stated demand to "follow me." These, by themselves, indicate an avowal of the freedom of man— a freedom which, if abused, is rebel lion, and leads to guilt. The call to "follow me" shows a i+49 way in which Jesus is to be seen as exemplar. Further, the Lukan parable of the prodigal son has a strong stress on the love of God which lures the wayward home, and once arrived at home, rebellion gone, all barriers disappear. The father immediately kills the fatted calf and puts a ring on the finger of the wayward one. Repentance in and of itself restores fellowship, for there is no objective barrier, only the subjective one of rebellion. Matthew, even more than Luke, stresses the responsibility of man by presenting Jesus as the New Moses. Total obedience is demanded, which is to exceed that of the Pharisees and the scribes. An obedience so radical is it that it can cul minate in the demand to be nerfect even as the Father in heaven is norfect. Such a demand, apart from the view that man is free and responsible and able to meet the demand, is unthinkable. Further, the synoptics insist that baptism is a bap tism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. This in cludes building blocks for both the Abelard inn and Ansel- mian theories. Repentance deals with sin as rebellion, and forgiveness deals with sin as guilt. But the problem which Anselm later isolated— that man is unable to make res titution because even if he is perfect he is only doing what is required of him thus accruing no merit— is already seen in the parable of the unworthy servants where Jesus saya "when you have done all that is commanded of you, say *We are unworthy servants; we have only done what was oar duty1' 1 (Luke 17:10). V/e have, farther, already argued that it is possible to see in Matthew's treatment of the supper a theory of expiation, at least in embryonic form. Further, the true humanity of Jesus, so vital to either an Abelardian or Anselmian theory, is also clearly seen in the synoptics. And this is not so simply in such phrases as in Mark 13:32, or, in lesser degree in Mark 5: 30, where Jesus is shown as disavowing supernatural know ledge, but even more graphically is His true humanity seen in the agony of Jethsemane. There He is frightened, shrinking back from the cross, sore afraid, pleading with the Father to remove the cup of suffering from Him. Paul as well as the synoptics, supplies planks which will later be taken up as building supplies in the con struction of moral renewal or penal theories. He, like Luke's prodigal son story, will speak of the love of God luring man away from his waywardness. In Rom.5:8 he speaks of the love of God. This context is exceedingly importaht in that it reveals that the interlocking of the ideas of these motifs are not the later creations of subsequent theologians. If sin is rebellion, the answer to that rebel lion is the love of God revealed in such measure that it is able to turn man from his rebellious ways, and the result is the overcoming of that subjective barrier or, simply, reconciliation. In Rom.5*8 Paul speaks of the love of God, and three times in the verses which immediately follow he uses either the verb or the noun of reconciliation, being reconciled (Rom.5:1 0-11). This is especially striking in light of the fact that neither of these words, love or reconciliation, are often used by Paul, but here they are used together, Paul, teen, can be summoned forth as a wit ness on behalf of an Abe lardian theory. Further, Paul seems to endorse with equal vigor an Anselmian theory of satisfaction. In I Cor.l5:3 he insists that "I delivered to you as of first importance what I also received, that Christ died for our sins." Rom.3:25 explic itly refers to Jesus as an "expiation," While it is true, therefore, that such Anselmian and Abelardian materials are present in the writings which preceded John, the fact nonetheless remains that such ideas are distinctly secondary and undeveloped, never being more than allusions, and never being formative for the thought of either the synootic writers or Paul. Forgiveness, for example, is not a key term in the synoptics. This is the conclusion of Vincent Taylor after a careful combing of the synontic evidence. The conclusion that Taylor came to, therefore, is that Anselmian theories of guilt and forgive ness were inadequate summaries of the synoptic view, and he went on to insist that the primary orientation of these writings was to be found in the Abelardian concept of recon ciliation. It was conceded by him that this term, however, b$2 is used not at all in the synoptics, beinj found only in Paul, Taylor should have gone further, however, and noted that even in Paul the term is used only rarely, Paul does speak of the love of God, and Paul does speak of recon ciliation, but the very paucity of employment of these terms should have cautioned Taylor that not here is to be found the primary emphasis of Pauline vocabulary, and consequent ly of Pauline theology. Nor is Paul's primary emphasis to be found in any expiational theory. I Cor.l5J3 can just as well be translated not "as of first importance" but "in the first place" so that the emphasis on Christ dying for sins is to be seen not as first theologically, but rather as the first in a listing of points, oily numerically first. He first died, and then was resurrected, for it must be noted that I Cor.l^i^ goes on to speak of the resurrection, and it is the resurrection which receives primary emphasis in the context as the long list of witnesses given in I Cor. 1^:6 goes on to show. The long list of names is given not as a testimony to the crucifixion but to the reality of the resurrection."* ^ To return to the synoptics, it is true that Luke 15 has the parable of the prodigal son, apparently insisting on the freedom of man and his ability to return to the house of the father, but that parable cannot be read in isolation. It is preceded by two other parables which place it in pers pective. We are told of a lost coin and a lost lamb, both ■ + 5 3 helpless. The lamb is unable to return of its own decision to the fold, and the coin is inanimate. It must lie where it is until it is sought out and reclaimed. There is not a thing it can do of itself. Both are helpless and in need of outside intervention. It must be further noted that the emphasis on the cost of discipleship so clearly accented in Matthew can easily be explained as a reaction against Mark. Mark had so stressed the power of Christ that the sovereign nature of Jod might be seen rescuing man, that the respon sibility of man was beclouded. Matthew therefore deliber ately created the sermon on the mount, placing Jesus on a hilltop even as Moses of old was on a hilltoo, making demands on the people. But this is a theological creation, and not historical reporting. The oldest gospel knew of no sermon, either on a plain or on a mount, and, in relation to the later synoptics, that oldest gospel had fewer parables as well. The first published reports of Jesus, in other words, pictured Him not as a preacher sum moning men to repentance and reconciliation, nor as a preacher offering forgiveness for past guilt, but the first gospel instead put Jesus forth as a man of action. The emphasis was on deeds and not on words. The first view in literature of Jesus showed Him essentially as a wonder wor ker. And those miracles as we have already seen were orien ted to what must be called the classic theory, or the Christus victor theory. The devil ruled through hunger, and Jesus fed the multitudes. The devil ruled through sickness and Jesus healed. But most of all the devil ruled through death and therefore the resurrection— not the cross— was always the focal point of emphasis for the synoptics. In the synoptics never is the cross represented as on end in itself, a place where expiation is made for guilt, or as a place which serves as an anneal for reconciliation. In stead, always, the cross is hut a means to an end, and we find nowhere in the synoptics a nrediction of the cross made apart from the prediction that on the third day Jesus would rise again. When we move out of the synoptics into Acts, precisely that truth once more confronts us. The days and deeds of Jesus are recounted in what is almost a dry and matter of fact fashion. It is not until those earliest preachers arrived at the story of the resurrection that one can almost hear them suck in their breath and begin to exult triumphantly "of this we are witnesses I" (See for example, Acts 2:32, 3J15\ and especially Acts *+:33 which says "And with great power the apostles gave their tes timony to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus"). It was the fact that Jesus was raised on the first day of the week, on a Sunday, which accounted for the church*s abandonment of the old Israel*s day of worship, the sabbath, in favor of this new day. Bach Sunday service, in other words, was a little Easter, celebrating the resurrection of the Lord. The apostle Paul stands precisely in this emphasis, ^55 and his words are unambiguous and unmistakable. Twice he insists that the resurrection and not the cross is the cen ter of all that is distinctively Christian, claiming that "if Christ has not been raised, then our preaching is in vain and your faith is futile" and again "if Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile and you are still in your sins" (I Cor.1£:1h-, 17). "But," he continues, "in fact Christ has been raised from the dead" and, in a oneness of thought with the passages noted in Acts, he lists those who have been witnesses to that great event (I Cor.l5J6f). What we are saying, then, is that while all the elements of an Abelardian or Inselmian view are present in the writings preceding John, those elements are secondary and not formative. It is unto the classic theory one must turn to meet the full force of the earliest church's view. For Mark, Jesus is the one stronger, able to set at liberty those who are oppresssd. For Mark, the death of Jesus is a ransom, the purchase price of freedom, the price paid to free a slave. But Mark does not use the term in a commer cial sense or in a transactional way, as a price paid to either Cod or Satan. There is no satisfaction tueory here, no pitting of Father against Son. Nor is the price paid to the devil as fair exchange. The Imagery must be understood within the context of warfare which is the imagery which has dominated the entire Markan narrative. A soldier at war makes the supreme sacrifice, pays with his life. But that price is received by no one directly. He does not give his life to the enemy, nor to the general who commands him. Instead, If anyone does receive that price or its benefits, it is only indirectly. It Is that people for whom he is fighting which benefits. It is in that sense that Jesus1 life is a "ransom." He dies that others might live. He dies that death might be entered into, and destroyed. All of Pauline language reflects this Christus victor motif in the same way. For Paul, sin is neither rebellion essentially, nor its consequence of guilt essentially, but sin is a power holding man In bondage. The work of Jesus is not to submit to the will of God worked on Him. His obedience is not passive, but active. It is "God who was in Christ," the two working together. And that work is to wrench man free from the "spiritual host of wickedness in the heavenly places." The resurrection is therefore em phasized as the crucial place. If God Is inferior in strength, unable to rescue Jesus, then the Christians of all men are most to be pitied, their faith futile and vain. But in fact Christ has been raised from the dead, and the Christian con rejoice in the fact that nothing in all of creation, neither powers nor principalities, neither angels nor death itself, is able to separate the elect from God. In all things they are more than conquerors. The resurrection, for Paul, was the turning point in the cosmic war between the forces of God and the evil for *+.57 ces who ruled over the present evil age. The resurrection was the place where the full power of Jesus became apparent. As Oscar Cullmann has taught us to understand Pauline thought, the resurrection was the turning point of the war, and the parousia would be the actual end of the war. The resurrection proved who was the stronger of the combatants, sealing already the final fate of the foes, and the parousia would be the cessation of all hostilities. If Satan con tinued at all in the interval, it was only by concession of Jod. He had already been bound or tethered, his in feriority revealed, for Christ had triumphed over him making a public example of him. The church lived in that interval, the overlapping of the ages. Upon them the ends of the ages had fallen. On the one hand, they remained exposed to Satan seeking to tempt and attack them. On the other hand, they were already under the influence of the Holy Spirit, the guarantee or downpayment of that which was to come. The troubles of the immediate hour were severe, for they were fighting not with flesh and blood, but nonetheless the sufferings of that oresent hour were not worth comparing to the glories to come when the creation itself would at last be set free from its bondage to decay. This is the conviction of the church in the literature which preceded John. It was, however, a point of view that could endure only as long as the parousia remained a warm and lively hope. When the end did not come, decade after 1 * 5 8 decade, it became apparent that either it would never come, or else it had already come, but in an unexpected form. While Gnosticism came to the first conclusion, John came to the latter. When Jesus says before Pilate "I-Iy kingship is not of this world" those words are not simply a part of a political apologetic seeking to show that the church is not subversive. That element, of course, is present in the phrase, Jesus denying for the church the political and military aspirations of the Jews and denying as well the charge of subversion being raised against the church. But more is involved than that. This is also a denial of apocalypticism, the hope for the dramatic renewal of this world through a tangible and concrete intervention of God which would supernaturally renew the conditions of this world. John is insisting that the reign of God promised by Jesus is to be understood in a new way, in an existential or spiritual way. He is in effect insisting that the church is not to sit in an atmosphere of apocalyptic ex pectation, its eyes on the horizon awaiting the parousia which will destroy the devil and create the cleansed cosmos, the new heaven and earth. For Jesus' kingship is not to be so seen, it is not of this world, of this earth. It is 117 inner, of another order. ' It is in this light that John must hammer out a new view of the work of Jesus, putting the significance of His work in other than essentially a Christus victor or classic i+?9 sense. The parousia is too tightly tied to the dualism of apocalyptic thought. It looks for a final victory over a foe still active in the present hour. The failure of the parousia to arrive demanded a whole new comprehension of the work of Jesus. That which was secondary in the synoptics— Abelardian and Anselmian theorios--becomes for John the major thrust. One could begin by noting how John, either conscious ly or instinctively, but nonetheless definitely prepares himself against misinterpretation by dealing with the dan gers latent in such theories. As we have seen, basic to the Abelardian view is the danger of seeing Jesus only as good example, mere human exemplar, a model to follow. John insists, in his opening line, that the Word eventually to become flesh was God. Jesus is no mere model. He is God. This gosoel as no other insists on the presence in Jesus of all the divine attributes. Here, limited knowledge is gone. He knows all things. Here, human frailty disappears. He is not determined by the actions of enemies nor even by the human emotions either of Himself or of His friends. Here, His pre-existence is insisted upon, not only in the opening line, but in such later phrases as "Before Abraham was, I am." Here, His insistence on oneness with God is clearly seen by enemies ("This is why the Jews sought to kill him, because he . . . called God his father, making himself equal to God," John 5*18)* and confessed by His friends *+60 ("II7 Lord and my God,1 ' John 20:28). We have also seen that a danger latent in the Ansel mian view is that of pitting Father against Son, of dividing the Godhead and placing love in Jesus which is set in opposition to the harsh demands of the Father. Here too John clearly deals with the danger. No other gospel goes out of its way to insist so specificnlly and so often on the unity of the Godhead. This is seen not only in the response to Philip's demand to see the Father, "He \ 7ho has seen me has seen the Father" (John 1^:9). It is seen also in those many places where Jesus is shown insisting that He has come to do the will of the Father, and that He does nothing of Himself. The redemptive work of Jesus is not to be seen as accepted grudgingly by a demanding and harsh Father, but is instead seen as the expression of the love of the Father, for it is God who so loved the world that He gave His only Son. The observations thus far made are essentially negative, indicating how John seeks to protect himself from misinteroretation of the new views being brought forth. But the fact that he must make such negative disclaimers ought not be allowed to obscure the fact that he ig. putting forth something new. Whereas for Paul and the synoptics, love was a minor motif, it becomes for John a comprehensive summary of the very nature of God Himself. Whereas for Paul the word power was always the single key word used to b - 6 1 describe the work of Jesus, la John it is the love of Goa which is to the fore. Here a definite shift from classic to Abelardian theory cannot but be noted. That love is able to renew a man, if he but yield to it as Peter does and not spurn it as Judas did, is stressed. The mistake of seeing Jesus only as a good example having been avoided, Jesus, in this gospel can be held up as in no other as a model to follow. In no other writing is there such an aggressively presented theory of Imitatio Christi. "love one another as I have loved you" (John 15J12). Greater love has no man than that he lay down his life for his friends. This Jesus will do, and this the disciples are commanded to do. They are told to love one another, and they arc told that if they love Him they will keep His com mandments (John 1b-: 1[?)• That is, the pulling power of God’s love, seen in the prodigal son parable, is taken up and coupled to Matthew's demand for discipleship. Out of the isolated strands of synoptic thought is woven the fab ric of Johannine theology, only now they are no longer isolated background strands but constitute the very woof. Most clearly, however, the change in John's thought is seen in his presentation of the dross. No longer is the cross merely a means to an end. Here It becomes an end in itself. There is where He is "lifted up" and exalted (John 3:1b-, 8:28, 12:32) drawing all men to Him. In a spirit totally different from the synoptics which never predicted b62 the death of Jesus without immediately passing on to speak of the coining resurrection, this gospel alone can speak of the coming crucifixion without coupling it to a promise of resurrection. It is only in this gospel that Jesus can say from the cross "It is finished" (John 19:30), for it is in this gospel alone that there is no need to wait for the resurrection and the parousia to provide the full benefits of Christ's work, reconciliation and forgiveness already being available. Therefore it is at the foot of the cross, and not in a future eschatological moment, that the new and redeemed humanity can come into being. Jesus' words to His mother -and to His disciple, "Behold your son . . . behold your mother" (John 19:26-27), can in no way be taken historically. It is not simply that they contradict the synoptic view that the disciples stood far from the cross which calls the historicity of these words into question. There is the simple fact that a dying man undergoing the agony of crucifixion simply would not have been able to utter such serene and tranquil phrases. Far greater is the verisimiltude of Mark who shows Jesus only groaning in an unintelligible cry. The words are not ■an historical remembrance but a theological creation. A theological creation which is transferring forward from the parousia to the cross the benefits of Jesus. Instead of the elect waiting for the final hour when they at last will > * • 6 3 be revealed as th9 sons of God (Rom.8:23), they are already at the foot of the cross part of the new humanity. Old ties fade away. New ties tale their place. Those who do the will of God, they are brothers and sisters and mother of Jesus. The thought of Mark 3:3 * 1 “35 is taken up and trans formed, and those unlike Judas who walked away, those who have instead loved one another thus doing the will of God, find themselves in a new family, and a disciple and a mother find themselves cemented together in that new race made possible by the death of Jesus. That death of Jesus can accomplish these marvelous things because it is no longer a means but an end. 'In this gospel the death of Jesus is due not to the "power of dark ness" (Luke 22:53)i an attack of Satan, but is instead the will of God. The new ’ ind altered view of suffering which we have already seen not only extends to the fact of death, but is most keenly seen in the fact of death. Death is not Satan*s work but God's will. It is God's will that the lamb of God be put to death as an expiation for the sins of the world. Now that the danger of pitting Father against Son has been intentionally avoided, the death of Jesus can be put forth as vicariously substitutionary. As the high priest said (because he was the high priest), Jesus is dying (not being raised, but dying) that others might live. Unlike the synoptics, which see death as a weapon of the evil one, and therefore show Jesus, understandably, shrin king back in horror, crying out to God to remove the cup from Him, John instead shows Jesus eager to embrace the will of God, anxious to seize the cup and drain it entirely. The scholars who see in John 12:27f an echo of Gethsemane are entirely correct. But one must go beyond seeing simply an ebho. One must go on to see that the very substance of the Gethsemane scene has been transformed. Shall Jesus say "Father, save me from this hour? No, for this purpose I have come to this hour. Father, glorify thy name" (John 12:27)* The death of Jesus Is not the work of the evil one, something to be shunned. It is the will of the Father, the act by which Jesus is glorified by the Father and is Him self glorified, exalted, lifted up. Instead, therefore, of reluctantly entering into death, apparently unwilling to drink the cup of suffering, Jesus seizes it enthusiastical ly. The words of Jesus from the cross, "I thirst" (John 19:28), are not to be seen as historically descriptive, the indication of the agony of a dying man* This dying man is in no agony as is seen in the serenity of the immediately following instructions given to His mother and the disciple* These words are instead a reflection of and intended to recall John 12:27 and the Crethsemane scene which it in turn echoes. Jesus does not hesitate to drink the cup. He drinks it in full, and still thirsts for more. He under- b65 goes the death which God has imposed on Him, and reveals His willingness to absorb even more, for no greater love has a man than that he lay down his life for his friends. Jesus is dying that others might live."*^ It is because John sees the death of Jesus in these Abelardion-Anselmian terms of an expression of God's love making restitution for the guilt of man and making recon ciliation, the new humanity possible, that he insists upon identifying Jesus in the very first chapter as the lamb of God. And this is why the gospel constantly refers to the Passover, reaching its climax when Jesus the lamb of God dies at the very hour that the Passover lamb is slain. This is why John shifts the crucifixion from Friday to Thursday, so that the death of the lamb mirrored in the Old Testament Scripture might correspond to the death of the true lamb who fulfills that Old Testament Scripture. John very rarely refers specifically to the Old Testament. His writings, it is true, as we have seen, are permeated by al lusions to Old Testament thought, but it is when Jesus is dying that the allusions cease and John becomes snecific, and a full half of direct references to the fact that "it was written" appear during the crucifixion (John 19:2*+, 28, 36). John is making unavoidable his point that the death of Jesus is the work of God and not of God-opposing forces. He dies even as the Passover lamb dies, and from His dying body--not from a later resurrected and ascended Lord— that h66 blood and water, the fountain of life and the stream of cleansing, flow. So great is this moment that the author who has consistently sought to erase himself from the book here must intrude, insisting that he has seen and bears X'/itness (John 19:35). The witness which in Acts and Paul is given in respect to the resurrection is here given to the cross.^l There is no conceivable motive which could have led the synoptics to place the crucifixion on a Friday if it had in fact taken place on a Thursday, Indeed, the entire Passover season as an entity is incidental to the synoptic development, and nothing is made of any date or day itself. Jesus went to Jerusalem to die and bring in the kingdom, and it is, apparently, only co-incidence that the aborted effort of the disciples to bring in the kingdom, which led to Caesarea and Jesus1 own decision to die, happened to fall at all during the Passover period. In other words, the artlessness of the synoptics indicates that the true death day was a Friday. But for them the death day was unimpor tant. It was the Sunday, the third day, the resurrection day, which came to be of vital significance. But John seized on this co-incidence with the Passover and shaped it to fit his own theological convictions. What better way to emphasize the death of Jesus as the will of God, as opposed to the work of Satan, than to transfer it back one day and show Jesus dying simultaneously with and as a fulfillment k67 of the ceremony of the lamb. That expiation offered up by Jesus, that hour of exaltation, has furnished already the fulness of spiritual benefits Jesus came to bestow. For giveness and reconciliation are already available. The new humanity is already in being. There is no need to await resurrection or ascension or parousia as great apocalyptic acts which will bestow the now kingdom, for the kingship of Jesus is not of this world, in any sense, either political or apocalyptic."*^ The resurrection accomplishes nothing in this gospel. That is not to say it is ignored. A reading of the last tw> chapters shows that that is not so. But it in itself ac complishes nothing. Whereas the synoptics showed the cross as secondary, a means to an end, and the resurrection the climax, for John it is now the resurrection which has become a means, secondary. The resurrection is but a "sign" of confirmatory value, signifying and affirming that there is now available all the,benefits which the cross had made possible J^Thus the primary thrust of this gospel shows the resurrection appearances not abounding with promises but bristling with demands. The resurrection is not held up as a guarantee of greater things coming, but serves instead as the basis for a renewed and heightened demand of disciple- ship. The final two chapters are both probably from the hand of the original author, both serving as alternate endings for the gospel. But the one thing which both chap- 1+68 ters have in common is the element of demand for disciple- ship. The story of Thomas illustrates the necessity of con fessing Christ, thus both recalling and climaxing those seed thoughts earlier planted. In chapter one Andrew called Jesus the Christ and Nathanael called Jesus the king of Is rael and the Bant ist called Jesus the lamb of Cod. Now, at last, in the light of the crucifixion, these isolated elements can rightly be seen not as Isolated elements at all but as a unity. It was in being crucified that Jesus became king and Christ and lamb, thus the church must call Him Cod 1 2? + and Lord. But the church's role is not confined to con fessing. It must love even as Jesus loved. It must carry on His work. Therefore in the alternate ending, chapter twenty-one, Peter is told three times that if he loves he must feed the lambs and care for the elect of Cod. The in gathering of the elect and its nurture, begun in chapter four with the confrontation with the woman of Samaria, and insisted upon in chapter ten, is explicitly laid on the dis ciples. Their task is not to sit staring at the heavens awaiting an eschatological blowing of trumpets signaling the final end of a war whose turning point has been arrived at, but rather their task is to care for Cod's flock in a world already restored to God. If the resurrection, therefore, is minimized, the ascension and parousia are almost entirely denied. Or, if not denied, drastically reduced to a role of secondary im b69 portance. The parousia, as we have already seen, makes sense only within the apocalyptic-dualistic view. The as cension too, though this is not quite as often noted, also achieves significance from that same apocalyptic dualism. The purpose of the ascension was to allow Jesus to return to the Father, gather together the heavenly host, and then return, shaking "the Dowers in the heaven . . . gathering the elect" (Mark 13:2b--27), then bringing all of human his tory to a close, heaven and earth passing away (Mark 13:31)* But the parousia did not come, thus the mounting up to gather the heavenly host did not make sense. Both had to be reinterpreted. In John the ascension and parousia are telescoped and transformed, brought forward In time and altered in'content. The ascension does not take place, as in Acts, forty days after the crucifixion, but almost immediately and almost unnoticed in John. In John 20:17* Mary is commanded not to touch the risen Jesus for "I have not yet ascended to the Father." But only verses later, only eight days later, Thomas is commanded to touch Jesus, putting his hand into the riven palms and the punctured side (John 20:27). This is explicable only on the grounds that that which prevented Mary from touching Jesus, the fact that He had not yet as cended, is no longer a barrier for Thomas. In that brief span of eight days, His ascension had indeed but unnoted in fact taken place. And not only had the ascension taken *+70 place but the parousia as wallI He had ascended, and Ha had returned. The "little while" of John 16:16f when they would be temporarily without Him has already taken place and been completed. Ho longer is the "little while" that 'wait between resurrection and parousia which, for the syn optics and for Paul was an apocalyptic event, still en during and stretching out, but instead it was a past fact, a completed interval, and Jesus had already returned. They are not to await the parousia, bringing in spectacular fashion a transformed heaven and earth, for the king of Israel’s kingship is not of this world, but spiritual in stead. In such a way has John dealt with the delay of the parousia, by denying its delay, by bringing it forward and placing it in the oast of the church’s experience rather than in its future; by insisting that the saving benefits of Christ's work are already available and the new humanity is already a fact; by insisting that those benefits consist not of release from Satan for the "prince of this world" was cast down even before the cross and in no way does he enter into the crucifixion scene in a formative manner. The crucifixion was instead the climax of God's redemptive program, Jesus dying that others might live. It was at the cross that Jesus could say "It is finished," His work ac complished . 1 * 7 1 There is yet one more way in which the delay of the parousia affected this gospel. Two qualifying statements must be made before turning to its examination. Firstly, we grant that here we are moving clearly into the realm of speculative reconstruction rather than in the realm of exegesis. Secondly, this final effect of the delay of the parousia is more practical than theological— although the results for Johannine theology were great. To come, then, to the point, the delay of the parousia allowed John to live in Ephesus, and this for a right long time I He lived among Greeks. He was exposed to Greek thought patterns. He sought to reach Gentiles for Jesus. But outreach is never a one way street, instead the traffic of ideas moves both ways. The end result was that John the Jewish apostle came to think in many ways like a Greek.' a We would suggest that it is this fact which accounts in major part for many of the paradoxes which confront us in this gospel. Of these paradoxes there is almost no end. We single out here only a few. Firstly, there is the Jewish versus the Greek element. We have already noted in some detail the current trend in Biblical studies which emphasizes the Jewishness of this gospel. Jesus is presented as the fulfillment of the Scrip ture, the new temple, the hope of the prophets, the one to whom Moses witnesses, the New Moses furnishing a more abun dant manna or bread from heaven. It is this gospel which h72 insists that salvation is from the Jews, and which calls Jesus not only Christ but Messiah. The language Itself Is so Semitic that serious scholars have made extended attemp ts to argue that the original writing was in Aramaic. The Book of Revelation has been called by many the most Jewish book of the New Testament, and, without entering into the knotty problem of the relationship of the fourth gospel to the Apocalypse, the least that can be said is that some kind of relationship, no matter how tenuous, does exist, and this In turn strengthens the statement that the fourth gospel is a Jewish book. Side by side with this indisputably Jewish caste or flavoring, there lies the persisent theological insistence that this gospel is Creek. If current theological studies do indeed seek the antecedents of this gospel in Jewish circles. It must be Insisted that it is only current studies which do this. In preceding generations the Creek caste of the gospel was taken as so evident that it was In the larger area of hellenistic thought that the search for antecedents was conducted. This approach, though modified, yet remains today. For example, one of the most recent of commentaries, that by C.H. Dodd, insists upon beginning its investigations not by an examination of the Old Testament or Qumran but rather by an examination of the Hermetic literature, and Dodd continually Insists that much of what is found in this gospel Is Creek in orientation. This Is ^73 one paradox of the fourth gospel. Powerful cases are able to be constructed on both sides, and the debate concerning the Jewish versus the Greek elements seems at times to have reached a stalemate, neither side being able to refute the other because the evidence for each assertion seems convin cing indeed J A second paradox is this. We have already noted that the manuscript evidence for this gospel precedes the liter ary evidence, an astounding fact. We have at least a part of the written gospel, the Rylands Papyrus, which can be dated no later than about A.D. 12f?. But it is not yet for another half century that we have definite and undisputed quotations from and references to the gospel. It was, In other words, in existence and circulating, but It was for all practical purposes ignored. Or, to put the issue into a slightly different shade, the earliest church was able ap parently to make little of the gospel, unable to appreciate It. It remained for the later church to seize it and employ It. The earliest church, Jewish, found the book to be for bidding and strange, perhaps Incomprehensible. It was only the later Greek church which put the writing in the forefront of its literary heritage and bestowed upon the author the august title of "John the Theologian." John, son of Zebedee, disciple of Jesus, Jewish by birth, came to his own and his own received him not. It was only the later Greek church 4 -7^ which claimed him as champion. The third paradox is the complete and total trans formation of the person of Jesus. We have been discussing the new and altered comprehension of His work as it appears in this gospel as compared to the synoptics. But such a discussion ought not be allowed to obscure the fact that it is not so much a comparison of the work of Jesus in John over against the work of Jesus in the earlier writings. Rather, the issue is most clearly seen when we speak more exactly of the work of Jesus in the synoptics versus the person of Jesus in John, for that is what John is— a dis cussion of the person of Jesus. The Markan man of action is gone. We have already noted and Insisted upon the fact that the oldest gospel is dominated by a stress on the miraculous. Jesus, in the oldest literature of the church, is not a preacher but a miracle worker. There is little conscious reflection on His person. Instead, Mark shows Him performing mighty deeds. The oldest gospel has no sermon, on the mount or the plain, and fewer parables than the later gospels, instead putting forth the picture of a man of great works whose naked power awes His audience. But in John, the action is minimized, the miracles are pared in number and transformed in quality. They are no longer acts but only signs pointing to the person of Jesus. Indeed, to carry the thought even further, in the deepest sense even the parallel between Matthew-Luke and John breaks down. It is true that both Matthew and Luke stress, more than Mark, Jesus as a preacher, thus apparently producing a more distinct paral lel to the Johannine preacher who is able to discourse chap ter on end.' But upon closer examination we see that here too the differences are qualitative. For in both Matthew and Luke, while it is granted that Jesus is a preacher more than a man of action, His preaching points not to Himself but to the kingdom of God, which He is bringing. The ser mon on the mount begins with a reference to the kingdom of heaven, and once reference is made to that kingdom, the Matthean Jesus does not depart from a discussion of the kingdom. The Lord's prayer is a commentary on the coming kingdom. The subject of the parables is the coming kingdom. The disciples are instructed to preach the kingdom. That is, Jesus' preaching, while it is indeed preaching as over against the working of miracles, is preaching which points away from Himself and His person, and points instead to the kingdom which He brings. Jesus' person is important, of course, but it is only as the brlneer of the kingdom, its herald, that He is important. But in John all such emphasis has disappeared. In John, Jesus Himself, His person, is the point of the preaching. Reference to His work, the bridging of'the kingdom, has for all practical purposes, vanished. Hg, is the kingdom. In Him there is life and ^7 6 truth* In the fourth gospel, Jesus Is not the revealer but the revelation* He Himself is the message. This fact by itself is sufficient to set the fourth gospel irreconcilably in opposition to the earlier ones. In the earlier gospels, it is the work of Jesus which is to the fore. In John, it is the person of Jesus which dominates the narrative. We would suggest that all of these paradoxes noted are not unrelated. All of them flow from a common source, and their mutual fountainead is the fact that, the parousia being delayed, John lived among the Greeks and absorbed, either consciously in an attempt to be a better missionary, or unconsciously, Greek thought patterns and concepts that affected his literary o u t p u t . 1^8 We can begin an explication of this phenomenon by noting in cursory fashion some of the basic differences between Hebrew and Greek mentality. What follows are all generalizations, and as such, open to the charge which can be leveled against all generalizations, namely, the charge of reduction to stereotype. Further, these generalizations have been vigorously disputed by those who insist that the peoples of yesterday did not in fact represent sharp and clearcut differences of thought. Still, recognizing the danger, we would insist that the following statements con tain at least enough general truth to justify the con clusions we will draw. One could begin by noting the fact of language itself. Hebrew has as Its building block the three-consonant verb. It Is the verb which was basic to Hebrew thought. All other parts of speech, noun, adverb, adjective, etc., were built off the verb. With Greek, it was entirely other. Here the basic building block was the noun, from which all other parts of speech came. Now this one fundamental fact had enormous significance, for it indicates the differing roads to reality pursued by Hebrew and Greek thinkers. For the Hebrew, stress was put on action, on deed, on the verb. For the Greek, the stress was on essence, on nature, on substance. The Hebrew, to put the issue in theological terms, would ask "What has God done1 ?" The Greek would pon der the question "What is God?" One would consider the ef fects, the other the attributes. The Hebrew mentality was able to begin its Scripture with an affirmation of a living God, a God in action, thus Genesis opens with the statement that God created. God's nature is not pondered but His ac tivity affirmed. But the Greek would consider instead the substance or nature. Thales and Heraclites disputed, fire or water? But in both cases the common denominator was that one must begin by defining the substance of reality. It is a case of existence versus essence, substance versus act, person versus work. By definition, a Hebrew would stress action or deed, whereas a Greek writing would concern Itself with person or nature. "*^9 A second significant difference between Hebrew and Greek thought was their attitude towards things physical. The Greek dualism of flesh versus spirit is rather widely accepted. There was a disparagement of the body and the world, indeed of all things physical, which runs through much of Greek thought. The physical world was but a poor reproduction, a dim shadow, of the true world of ideas, of the spirit, which existed beyond. The analogy of the cave used by Plato is well known and in itself is a strong in dication of the relative disparagement of things physical. It was this conviction that the flesh is evil, or at least inferior, which gave rise to the hope for or the conviction of the immortality of the soul. The body was a cage in which the spirit was held prisoner, and hope consisted of the belief that one day the good spirit would be set free from the restrictions of the flesh. In like manner, the world itself was seen as something akin to a hamster's wheel, a cyclic or repititive process offering no future hope. History had no goal toward which it moved, and the answer to man's dilemma was not to be looked for in an es- chatological renewal of all things, but rather in a flight of the spirit from the physical world below to the spiritual world above. In opposition to this, the Hebrew affirmed things physical. For him, the body was not a cage but a creation of God* The earth was the Lord's and the fulness thereof, and the goodness of God was mirrored in material goods. The 1*79 good man would be blessed with wealth, with offspring, and it was the barren woman who was looked on as being under a divine displeasure. Since the earth was the Lord’s the earth itself was an object of the redemptive process. Evil had to be accounted for, but it was not accounted for in the Greek flesh versus spirit dualism. Another form of dualism was adopted, Satan versus God. Spirit versus spirit. This world was somehow fallen prey to spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places. But the living God of action would redeem the cosmos, making all things new. History had an eschatological goal. It was unrolling with a purpose. And that purpose was not escape of the spirit out of the world but rather the renewal of the whole world. The Hebrew looked not for the immortality of the soul, but rather for the resurrection of the body. Now these fundamental differences between Hebrew and Greek thought all show up in John. His stay in Ephesus in a Greek context of thought, prolonged by the delay of the parousia, exacted its toll. The Jewish disciple became a Greek philosopher. ^30 The gospel he wrote begins, in its prologue dealing with the Logos, as a meditation on the person of Christ. We have seen already why the gospel must begin with a dis cussion of the person of Christ, with an affirmation of His divinity. This was necessary to put the Baptist and his rite into proper perspective. The pressure of a rival religion demanded that Jesus be shown as divine before receiving baptism. We have also seen that a reaction against the oppressive dualism of Qumran specifically and against apocalyptic thought in general demanded a new avowal of the Hebrew doctrine of creation. Therefore the prologue in good Jewish fashion begins by affirming the world as the creation of God. In other words, there is a Jewish thrust here, and there are a variety of motives at work in the prologue. Nonetheless, even conceding that, it remains an indisputable fact that on the one hand the pro logue is a meditation on the person of Christ, and, on the other hand, the doctrine of creation introduced here is not a dominant motif of the gospel. Indeed, It is the failure of the author to return again to the theme of creation, so prevalent In the prologue, which has given rise to the view that the prologue once stood as an Independent piece of literature, written independently of the gospel. We do not believe that this is so, and It is our view that the pro logue is an integral part of the gospel, written by the same hand. But that does not lessen the fact that the em phasis of the prologue on the motif of creation does Indeed disappear. The unity of the prologue with the rest of the gospel is to be found in that the entire gospel continues as a meditation on the person of Jesus, a meditation begun In those first verses. The Hebrew stress on the world and its 1*81 recreation disappears from this gospel. The world is divorced from the redemptive process. Perhaps that is too strong a statement. Perhaps it would be better to say that the world was an object of God's love, but, when the gospel was being written it was no longer such an object. Satan had already been cast down. God's sovereignty over the cosmos had already been re-established. There was no need to yearn for the parousia as a time of future renewal, for already on earth as in heaven God's will was being done. In other words, the world having already been cleansed, its cleansing was no longer a major motif. The redemptive process, unrolling in the immediate moment, was internal, spiritual, existential, concerned with the inner life of man and man's acceptance of Jesus in faith. It no longer concerned the world itself. In short, the world came not to be rejected by ignored. It did not figure in the redemp tive process. History no longer had an ultimate goal. Ii»- stead there is the Platonic idea of two worlds running for ever parallel to one another, and the salvation offered to man is movement from one to the other. This is Greek, not Hebrew, thought pattern. If the world has been relegated to a role of minor importance, the same must be said of the flesh. It is true, as we h$ve seen, that in discussing the sacraments John Is fighting on two fronts, affirming not only the spirituality kS2 of the acts, but affirming also the efficacy of the physical elements themselves. It is also true that in apparently good Hebrew fashion he insists that Jesus became true man, actual c rcx P t - And it is further true that our author seems deeply concerned with expressing the true physical manhood of Jesus, showing Jesus weeping over the loss of a friend, tired and thirsty and asking a woman for a drink of water as He seeks to refresh and rest Himself at a w e l l . ^2 Yet, as true as those observations are, the deeper truth is that all of John's attempts to assert and under line the true humanity of Jesus fall far short of the in tended mark. The Johannine Jesus is docetic. He is pre existent. He is omniscient. He is passive and unmoved, not determined by the actions of others or even by His own human emotions. One can well understand a certain degree of this portrait of Jesus as due to John's reaction against apocalyptic dualism. The force and power of intermediate spiritual beings is to be denied. No other will must be allowed in the cosmos other than God's will. Independent action must be denied to Caiaphas, Pilate, and Judas. They become unwilling servants, but servants nonetheless. This is understandable. But it is not so understandable why John must push as far as he does and deny not only the ac tivity and the formative influence of others around Jesus, but must deny also the formative influence of the human M-83 emotions within Jesus. Compassion does not lead Him to perform any miracle. He weeps over Lazarus, true, but He Himself let Lazarus die. He asks the woman for a drink of water, true, but the request serves in this gospel as nothing more than an overture for the discourse on the living water, which stresses the person of Jesus as the source of true life, not His human frailty. There is a docetic element in this gospel which goes beyond a simple polemic against apocalyptic dualism, and moves over into the positive area of affirmation of Greek dualism, of spirit superior to fleshJ33 The basic reason is simply that John has become saturated with Greek thought. This is the real reason he has ceased stressing, as did Mark, the work of Jesus, and 13*f has moved over instead to stress the person of Jesus. It is the Greek stress on the noun replacing the Hebrew stress on the verb. Hence attention is riveted not on the miracle stories but on the person of Jesus Himself. And this is not separable from the docetic attitude toward Jesus which we find here. As long as one was thinking in Hebrew categories of thought, stressing action, it was not at all difficult to affirm simultaneously both the humanity and the divinity of Jesus. One could examine His mighty works, His ability to still the storms, feed the hungry, cast out the demons, heal the sick and raise the dead, and this was enough to prove that He was God (a point which shows up even in John, revealing his Hebrew origin, Nicodemus saying "Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do, unless God is with him,” John 3*2). This thought reappears in John 10:38 when Jesus insists that ' ‘even though you do not believe me, believe the works, that you may know and understand that the Father is in me.” On the other hand, one could look at another set of facts, the fact that He had no place to lay His head, the fact that He had to ask questions of gain knowledge, the fact that He agonized in Gethsemane as would any human facing death, the fact that He died, and all these facts proved that He was indeed human. For the Hebrew men tality, the dual natures of Christ, His humanity and His divinity, presented no problem, for there were works or deeds or actions testifying to the authenticity of both. But when one moves out of Hebrew categories stressing action into Greek categories stressing essence or nature, the problem becomes nearly insurmountable. No longer can humanity and divinity be held in tension. By definition, to be God is to be different from man, and vice versa. In theological discussion, therefore, one nature or the other must always be subordinated. This is the way it is not only in John but in all of later Greek theology. The humanity of Jesus is affirmed in this gospel, His works being recal- i f 8 5 led, but His works play no central part, and His humanity is not real. The later struggles of the church, not only at Nicea and Chalcedon, but indeed all through the history of theological studies right down to our day, shows the difficulty of formulating, in Greek terms of essence, a satisfactory statement of the dual nature of Jesus. Athanasius and the Cappodocians were able to hammer out an uneasy truce only when they deliberately switched from a discussion of the person of Jesus per se over to a dis cussion of the work of Jesus, Athanasius insisting that Jesus had to be man or it was not man who was saved, and, simultaneously, Jesus had to be God for only God could save. That is a stress on deed, in the Hebrew fashion. Melanc- thon centuries later said something similar, insisting that what is important "is to know Christ: to know His benefits, and not to speculate about His natures or the manner of His incarnation." But it was precisely His natures and His manner of incarnation which concerned the Greeks, with their emphasis on substance or essence, and it was precisely this concern which lay at the center of John's thought. He found no satisfactory way in which the two natures could be held in tension, thus while he pays lip service to both he in fact violates the humanity of Jesus. The whole gospel, in one sense, can be summarized under the great "I am" phrases, 1+86 where attention is riveted not on what Jesus does but on who He is. He is God. He makes Himself equal to the Father. Before Abraham was, He is. Such a view of the divine nature of Jesus makes impossible any serious and sus tained development of the humanity of Jesus. The shift of John from Hebrew to Greek categories accounts not only for the disappearance of the Markan man of action and the dilution and diminuition of the miracles, but it accounts also for the emergence of a docetic Christ. It is this shift, then, from Hebrew to Greek thought patterns, which accounts for all of the paradoxes with which we opened this section. The third one--the difference of John*s emphasis on the person of Jesus as over against the synoptic stress on the work of Jesus— has already been dis cussed adequately. The other two paradoxes are also now easily understood. We can see how it is that we are con fronted simultaneously by two conflicting views of the gos pel, one seeing its Jewishness, the other seeking its ante cedents in Greek thought. Both are true. John is a Jew. His language is Jewish. His heritage is Jewish. Jesus for him is the fulfillment of the Old Testament. But that ful fillment is presented in Greek categories of thought. And this, in turn, explains why it is that the earliest church could make nothing of this gospel, allowing it to circulate without quoting from it. It was only later, when the If87 Jewish element of the church had been inundated by the in flow of Greeks, that this gospel's key was able to be used. Later Greeks could bestow upon John the title of Theologian because they could grasp him, they spoke his language, they understood his emphasis on the person rather than the work, and they were able to appreciate his disparagement of the humanity of Jesus in favor of the docetic portrait. The delay of the parousia produced not only an altered view of the work of Jesus. It caused the pendulum to swing from a consideration of the work to a concentration on the person. The church, in the interval of expectation, ceased being Jewish and became Greek, and the fourth gospel found a home.136 1 + 8 8 REFERENCES TO PART THREE 1. Gardner-Smith (102:UO, Scott (217:78), Schmiedel (210:80), Bacon (11:1 *>6), and Colwell-Tit us (61:130). 2. Baldensperger (12), is followed partially by Scott (217:78-79), Barrett (13:1 1+2), and Howard (123: 10). On the other hand, Dodd questions the existence of a Baptist sect and denies, if they did exist, any exaggerated view of opposition between them and the church, claiming that in the fourth gospel there is no sign of hostility between John and Jesus, a point so basic to Baldensperger (86:298-300). Hobinson, ear lier, had gone further, denying outright the existence of the alleged Baptist group, and saying that the Cle mentine Recognitions, which support the Acts passages in confirming the sect's existence, "are not very re liable historically'1 (19*+s^9-!?0). He probably goes too far here. 3. Barrett (15:3!+). if. Higgins holds otherwise, claiming the two tradi tions, that Jesus baptized, and that He worked simul- taneously with John, are sound (118:361). Bacon (11:156), and Colwell-Titus (61:132). Hoskyns notes that in the synoptics Jesus calls the Baptist Elijah, whereas in John the Baptist denies being Elijah, hence he denies a contradiction between the two accounts (121 :17^-). This is overly facile. No matter who the speaker, one gospel contradicts the other. Barrett suggests that the denial of John as Elijah is in effect a denial of apocalyptic thought (13:11 +3-1 +Lt-)» an idea to which we must return. Robinson has an interesting article (19^), in which he claims that Jesus was once a disciple of John and saw Himself as Elijah. Further, Elijah, and not a subsequent Christ, was the one foreseen as bringing in a fiery final judgement. When Jesus broke with John it was because He no longer saw Himself as a judge but as a Savior. Luke 12:^9-53 Is interpreted as a repu diation of both the Baptist and his program of judge ment, Robinson paraphrasing in part to read "But what do I care if it is now kindled?" From here, Robinson goes on to conclude that the Johannine narrative is far closer to historical fact than the synoptic, Jesus did work simultaneously with John, did baptize, and that the relations between Jesus and John in the fourth gospel are consistently cordial because the rupture noted in the synoptics has not yet occurred. Dodd reflects Robinson's view on all salient points, also seeing Jesus as a disciple of John (86* 27^-75)9 holding for a simultaneity of mission (86: 276), Jesus also baptizing (86:292), and denying any hostility between the church and the Baptist sect (86: 281,298-300). Kundsin OV 7) also argued for the southern minis try as a theological fiction. He however held that in the early church all heresy was traced back either to Samaria (where Acts and Justin find it), or to beyond the Jordan (Hegesippus). By therefore taking the Bap tist's activities out of Judea and placing them in Samaria and beyond the Jordan, the Ephesian evangelist identified the Baptist group then operative in Ephesus with the heretics. On Judas, see Connick (62:162) and Dodd (86:75). On the high priest being subject to divine control, see Hoskyns (121*^10) and Scott (217*230). On Pilate as part of the divine plan, see Colwell-Titus (61*88). Hoskyns (121*186-88). Bacon (11*^12). Colwell-Titus insist that even Moses is reduced, being only a witness (61*162-63); so also Scott (217* 369) and Bacon (11:185). Freed goes even further, not ing that in prevailing Babbinic belief the Messiah was to correspond to Moses, also bringing manna (99*13)— see also Strack-Billerbeck (231 * II,^81 and IV,890, 95^) and Odeberg (177 *2l +0-lf1). Freed goes on to argue that chapter six is constructed to show Jesus as ex ceeding Moses (99*16). One could add that even as eminence is thusly claimed over Moses, so also over Abraham, “before Abraham was, I am'* (John 8:58). As to the world being under the control of de mons, see D.S. Bussell’s extended and incisive dis cussion insisting that the angelic powers had “rebel led against God and had stolen the world from His con- trol“ (200:266-67), and Bultmann who speaks of the “pessimistic-dualistic view of the Satanic corruption of the total world-complex" (*+2:1,^-5) • The characteristics of the Essenes are dis cussed both by Matthew Black (26) and Leaney (150), and while the two men disagree in detail, they are in accord with the central ideas of our paragraph. Bobinson (193*13). See also the other refer ences given in Note *+1 , Part TVo. Beasley-Murray writes: “Everything in John’s practice and preaching was more radical. • .the es- 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 2 1. ^92 chatological expectation was more immediate" (20:^0). R. E. 0. White insists too that John has "a much stronger emphasis upon eschatology" (2^8:79). So also Robinson, insisting "the eschatological moment is in fact nearer than even they believed" (193*13*15). Freed (99*6-7) and Barrett (13:l+2). Whether Jesus used the title Son of Man of Him self, or whether it was given to Him by the evange lists is, of course, hotly debated. For an excellent summary of the various views, see James Robinson (189* 101- 02). Dodd (85:88-89) and Scott (217*369). Robinson (192:11*+) whose views once more are ta ken up by Dodd (85*87). Bacon claims however that the title Christ itself is being rejected (11:325). Hoskyns claims that Jesus is not denying that His kingship is of this world, but rather insisting that it is not of human origin (121:520). Dodd (85*229). John knows that the Christ is to be born in Bethlehem, John 7**+2 making this quite clear. Also, as we have noted, he is never subtle, always calling atten- to his alterations of the synoptics. In John 1 :*+6 he has already affirmed to the reader that Jesus is in ac tual fact from Nazareth. By deliberately reversing 22. 23. 2*k 2 5. ^93 himself in John ^2^3-^5 his point is theological, not historical. Hoskyns agrees that John presumes that his readers do in fact know that Jesus came from Galilee and that John is therefore to be seen as a theological device, doe to the fact that since the south is the place of the Messiah it must therefore be the homeland of Jesus (121:260-61). So also Colwell and Titus (61:120-21). Scott too agrees that the apparent shift of Jesus' origin from north to south is a theological fic tion, but he sees it as due to slanders charging that Jesus had taught secretly in a remote corner of the country. Therefore John is obliged to assert the "pub licity of our Lord's missions" putting Him in the cap ital city (217*72). Freed emphasizes the prominence in John of the motif of Christ as king (99*7^,76). Hoskyns (121 ^iM-). On the significance of the motif of forgiveness in the synoptics (or rather on its insignificance), see Taylor's comments, Note 117, Part One. For an indication of the variety of views as to when the temple was cleansed, see Buse's article (53)* As to representative views, Tasker (231 *) holds to the improbable position that the temple was cleansed twice. Howard accepts an early date as more reliable (123: 1^2), whereas Drummond (89=60), Goguel (105=II,^01), and Higgins (117;L^) prefer the later dating of the synoptics. Gardner-Smith sees the difference, as we have seen, as due to the fluid state of the oral tradi tion. Sanday, in a remark not worthy of a great schol ar, calls the John-Mark difference a matter of "not really great importance" (201:150). Dodd affirms the position we developed earlier (pages 91-92 above), namely, though John places it early he betrays a con sciousness that it did in fact occur late, in intimate connection with Jesus' death (86:162). Guilding, of course, explains John's dating as due to the fact that he is working with lectionary, not chronological, time. What makes her view interesting is that she insists on seeing the cleansing as a re- interpretation of Mark 13's oracle of the end. The whole episode is a statement of realized eschatology, the destruction of the temple now to be seen not as a future apocalyptic event but as a past prophetic event (113: ,^,2CAf). Tbis paragraph is a digest of Schweitzer's views (213=358-59,389-91 especially). Bowker insists that Jesus "belongs inescapably to Judaism and yet transforms it" (31:^3). It is true that a story about a miraculous sup ply of wine is a popular motif which appears in local legends in the ancient world: Andros, Pliny, Hist. Nat. 11.231.xxxi.16; Elis, Pausanias, vi.xxvi.1-2; Haliartus, Plutarch, Lysander, xxvii.h-; Ovid, Metamor phoses, xiii.650. It is also true that Epiphanius says that the town of Crerasa, one of the cities of the Decapolis, was the scene of an annual miracle. On the day of the Epiphany, the day on which the miracle of Cana was commemorated, the water of a fountain in the church turned to wine. Thus Bacon insists that the story in John is borrowed from these fables (11:332). Barrett is to be preferred when he insists that the story is probably instead a commentary on the synoptic sayings noted (13s 1 57-58)* Hoskyns (121:191-92) and Dodd (86:225) say the same, though in a more attenuated way, conceding that the story may have originally been, unknown to the evangelist himself, once associated with the pagan tales. It is Howard's failure to see this which accounts for his embarrassment over the enormous quantity of wine (123:189). Robinson (192:113)* Hoskyns, however, more than any other insists that this gospel grows out of the Old Testament world, almost every page of his commen- ^96 tary being punctuated by a reference to the Scripture. 31. Schmiedel agrees that the two stories of water into wine and the temple cleansing belong together, but he insists that both are negative, a denial of Judaism (210s99). Barrett is closer to the truth when he links the stories together but sees the idea not of the rejection but of the fulfillment of the Old Testa ment in the Cana story (13:183). See also Bacon (11: 167) and Hoskyns (121:189). 32. Hoskyns notes that in the synoptics the clean sing of the temple is linked by context to the cursing of the barren fig tree and the parable of the wicked husbandmen, both ordinarily understood as a synoptic rejection of Judaism as unfruitful and in opposition to Cod. He concludes therefore that the synoptic tem ple cleansing was meant to carry greater weight than the synoptists gave it, being in fact a rejection of animal sacrifice (121:198). See also Guilding (113: 33. Here is an example of how Bultmann's literary views reach into his theological interpretations, he insisting that the phrase "salvation is of the Jews" is only an interpolation. Colwell-Titus see it as an expression of the evangelist, but aimed at cutting the roots of Simonism (61:62-63), thus echoing the view of Kundsin (Note 7 above). See Note 11 above. Also Dodd (85*82,86). The word koiX/oL$ in John 7*37-38 has caused debate. Bernard translates it “belly,*' Hoskyns "side" and Strack-Billerbeck “person." Burney argued that the translator confused two Aramaic words "belly" and "fountain," identical in consonants. Torrey, however, argued extensively (2^- 3) that neither word made good sense, and that the idea being communicated here was Messianic, referring to Jerusalem and not to a body. In the Coming Age a stream of water would flow from the temple in Jerusalem. Freed, following this lead, claims that what John is in effect doing is replacing the stream from the temple by Jesus who is the source of living water (99*30)* This is no doubt correct. Whether it was the side or the belly is insignificant. What is important is that it is out of the death of Jesus, out of His crucified body, that the living water flows (John 19*3*+-35)* Here attention must be drawn to an almost ne glected fact of New Testament studies. It has never been sufficiently noted that loveT so basic to John (John 3*16, I John **:8 siai), is not a major concern of the other New Testament writers. To be specific, while in the synoptics men are often exhorted to love God, there is not a single instance where God is the subject of the verb ^ffciTrcf. u>. In like manner, the > / noun is used but twice in the synoptics, and never of God. The same is true of Acts, where neither verb nor noun are ever used, either of God or of any other* Paul was the first to speak of the love of God making God or Christ the subject of the verb or the One to whom the noun belonged. But even in Paul such usages are exceedingly rare and definitely not forma tive for his theology. That which dominated Paul's thought of God was not His love but rather His power. See for example, I Cor.1:2b or Rom.1:16. This raises issues which we will treat in depth later. Guilding (113:172) and Barrett (13:183) also find this same relationship existing between these chapters. Cecil Roth, however, probably goes too far when he insists that the universalistic element is found already in the temple cleansing scene (197)* It is not. Rather the temple cleansing leads to that em phasis which is only later actually developed in the subsequent chapters. Colwell-Titus (61 : 5*+) and Scott (217*72) agree that this was the problem facing John. ". . .this explanation of the purpose of the parables is an answer to a ques- tion which arose after the death of Jesus, and the failure of His followers to win the Jewish peo ple." C8M-: 1 5) Bacon (11s21W) and Scott (217:110) agree that this problem too faced John, demanding an answer. So also Nygren (176:396) an<^ Schweitzer (215! 1 8* 0. The argument which follows is similar to but de veloped independently of Jeremias1 work (128), Barrett calls the salvation of the Jews "a mys terious eschatological event" (1 *+:21 5^) • So also Hobert-Feuillet (iSSi^O) and Dodd (85: 303). Bacon too sees Nicodemus as a composite figure, drawn from synoptic persons and themes (11;^+ 139* Robinson sees him not as a person but as the summary of a theological problem facing John (192:115)* Dodd (86:221). Gardner-Smith insists that John has here no po litical apologetic at work, and that the synoptics, by having no Romans involved in the arrest of Jesus, are the documents which give evidence of having been shaped in order to exculpate the Romans and accuse the Jews alone as responsible for the death of Jesus (102:58). His conclusion or point, of course, is that John, as a consequence, is no doubt earlier, not marked by later apologetic views, and thus more reliable than the syn- optic narratives. There can be little doubt that he is correct in insisting that the fourth gospel is in deed closer to history. It is difficult to see just how the Jews could have captured Jesus without Homan aid. But it does not follow that John is free of a political apologetic. On the contrary, that it is John's avowed purpose to excuse the Romans and accuse the Jews alone has been consistently affirmed. See for example, Golwell-Titus (61*87), Bacon (11:228), Gonnick (62:162). But political apologetic is not John's only motive, let it be quickly added. Gardner-Smith (102:67) and Hoskyns (121:J?25)* It is this which has led to anti-semitism in the history of the church. Epp has ably argued (96) that the "western" text of Acts differs from the "neutral" in that the former is marked by anti-Judaic remarks, indicating that anti-semitism was not limited to a few isolated passages in John but could affect or shape an entire codex. The references in John 9 J22 and 12:^-2 to being "put out of the synagogue" can in no way be seen as re ferring to Jesus' own day. They refer instead to the situation at the time of writing, reflected in the Eighteen Benedictions. See Note 35 above, and Barrett (13:309-12). Cullmann (68) agrees that John h was written to provide dominical authority for the extension of Chris tian preaching into Samaria in the face of Matt. 10:5. So also Scott (217*233-3*0 . On the points raised in this paragraph, Barrett (13*191) and Bacon (11:181) agree that the harvest has been de-eschatologized. Gardner-Smith*s remark that the suggestion that John h is an "anticipation of the mission described in Acts viii is not to be summarily rejected" (102:20) is correct, though it comes as a surprise in the light of his denial that John knew Luke*s writings. Dodd too sees John *f as linked to Acts, but here as elsewhere he sees the link as due to a shared oral tradition (86:193-95). Far more emphatic are Hoskyns (121:2*K)) and Guilding (113*50-51,205-06) who both insist, Guilding in great detail carefully documented, that John is a commentary on Acts 1:8 and 8*1f. Hoskyns further claims that John 16:13 and 20:22 bring Pentecost forward out of Acts and into the life of Jesus, a point contested by Gardner-Smith (102:83). To this point we must later return. Barrett asks, "Why does John never refer expli citly to the sacraments and their institution?" (13*7li This indirect approach of John has led scholars to find veiled allusions to the sacraments throughout the gos pel. See for example U. E. Simon (219*105) and Guilding (113*126). The indirect approach of John does not prevent scholars such as MacGregor from call ing John "the supreme New Testament teacher on the sacraments" (163*111), or Cullmann from arguing for a very strong sacramental strain in John (65)• Schweitzer (215*233). In Rom.6*5 Paul insists that in baptism one Is "grown together with" or is "vitally made one with" ( crCfjQ o r oj* ) Christ. In Gal.3*27 £y<fv£<r&<xi is defined by DeWitt Burton as meaning "to enter into ac tual relation" or, with a personal object, "It signi fies 'to take on the character of* the person referred to, 'to become'" (52*20^). Many, such as Deissmann, Davies, H, A. A. Kennedy, and Anderson Scott to name a few, deny that such a vi«w is Paul's, but Schweitzer rightly argues for this naked sacramental ism (21 5*18-19,117,260), as does Dibelius (82*121). Bultmann concurs* "Baptism is an objective occurrence. • .not simply a symbol for a subjective process" (^2*1,312). This is too large a Pauline issue to be treated here. See my discussion elsewhere (135*10^-05). Schweitzer (215J286), whose view is seconded by J, A, T. Robinson (190:5^). Flew writes: uIn the oldest Eucharistic prayers, preserved in the Didache. the death of our Lord is not even mentioned" (98:111). W. D. Davies (73:39). See Note 12 above, and also James Stewart's article (228), in which he insists that the demonic is not "some unessential apocalyptic scaffolding" but is instead "integral and basic to the "very substance of the faith." The phrase Principalities and Powers has been used as the title for no less than three writings, two articles (tf. Manson in Studiorum Novi Testament! Sacietas. Bull. Ill, 1952, and G. H. C. MacGregor in New Testament Studies. Vol.I, 195*+-55) and a book (George Caird, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1958). All three of those writings agree in insisting that the early Christian proclamation was first invested with the character of a redemptive message against the back drop of the belief in the reality and the malignancy of these cosmic beings. Schweitzer’s view (21 5:2^+0), referred to here, has been corroborated by the finds at Qumran. On the basis of the scrolls, Stendahl emphatically insists that it is "our bread of the morrow" being referred to, and that "the context of the Lord's Prayer is strongly eschatological" (227! 10-11). Bultmann writes of the supper that Paul "regards its effects as analogous to that of the heathen cult- raeals," and this for Bultmann "indicates how little Paul consequently disavows the idea that the supper has a magical effect" (^2:1,313). The view of Bacon (11:15?) and Scott (217:107). More recent scholarship has backed off from this view. Hoskyns insists John is reacting against a tendency within the church (121:305). Is it only co-incidence that it is in his letter to the Ephesians. 20:2, that Ignatius speaks of "break ing one bread, the medicine of immortality"? Bacon sees the Elder steering a middle course between a Jewish and a Gentile element in the congre gation (11:19**-). So also MacGregor (163!117). Also Barrett, though he does not try and define the parties, content with simply observing that the author tries to wend his way between two extremist groups (13!69). But no writer of this century has emphasized as strongly as E. F. Scott the double thrust in John who in places seems to view the sacraments "magically" and in other places seems to have a "purely religious" view (217:12, 365-67). See Note 65, Part Two. Von Hugel (2*+5) insisted that the Nicodemus story stressed the strict need of baptism, whereas Colwell- Titus say that in the narrative "baptism is minimized'1 (61*51)* Both are correct. Either, by themselves, would be wrong. "John repudiates sacramentalism" (61:50). Hoskyns insists that John 6 is so non-spiritual or sacramentalist that the language becomes almost coarse ("substituting munch for eat") and causes of fense (121 :30*+). See MacGregor (163:118) and Hoskyns (121:30^) for affirmations that John is fighting in two directions. See Schweitzer (215*121-30)» Hobinson (190*1 +6- 52), and Barrett 0 5;32) for the view that baptism is to be understood corporately (or even corporally). Anderson Scott says the Spirit dwells in the body and not in individuals (7:230), and that "Christ is conceived of as in some sense the habitation or dwelling place of the Christian" (7*153)• Davies has somewhat similar thought (73*153)- Attempts to find a total abandonment of eschatol ogy in II Cor.5*1-l1 ^ have been ably rebutted by E. Earle Ellis (95)• Hanson writes "the 7*°t / as such is mentioned only twice in the synoptic gospels, Luke 3*7 and Luke 21*23" !(11*f*112). This Is inexcusably care less exegesis, for Too 0£oo does not even appear in the text, not even in a variant reading. 506 72. Schweitzer (215*81), who then fails to follow lais own insight. However, no one has written so incisively on this issuo as K. G. Kuhn, On the basis of the scrolls, he writes on the final tribulation as viewed in the New Testament d ^ : ^ - 108), "The originator of the peirasmos in Mark 1^*38 is apparently not God. It is rather the devil who tempts. In Matt.*+:3 the devil is called 'The Tempter.' Likewise is the devil the originator of peirasmos in Luke 8:13* Once in the New Testament peirasmos is plainly within the framework of apoc alyptic thought as a feature of the last -days. Rev.3*10, here peirasmos is the great decisive struggle in the last days, the fight of Satan against God, into which he drags the whole world on his side, but which is ended with the victory of God and the annihilation of Satan. Peirasmos by definition applies only to the believer. The un believers, who stand outside, are not in the state of peirasmos, Satan already has them in his power." "Thus the concept of peirasmos has its roots in the imagery of a state of war between the powers in the world, that of God and of Satan, ±n which the be liever is God's soldier, is constantly exposed to the attacks of the devil. The same basic thought— the state of war between two powers— determined the teach ing of Jesus. Jesus sees his work within the general framework of the struggle be tween God and Satan in the world and for the world." "The question is: where does this tradi tion which evidently determines the thoughts of the primitive church arise? Today, having the Hebrew texts at Qumran, we can give a clear answer to that problem." 507 "Here we find the entire set of con cepts described above; the two powers, the state of war, the peirasmos of the believer. The eschatological structure of this thinking is fully developed as the main ideal of the whole theblogy of the sect. Peirasmos in the New Testament has the same structure as in the ^umran texts. It has its roots in the idea of two powers which are at war with one an other in the world, &od and Satan.1 1 73. Howard (123*208). 7*K (8lf:101 , 108) . 75* (81 f*96-98), a thought later repeated (86*Vl1 +). 76. (8^:63»66). 77. Dodd, as we have already seen, argues that John in many places preserves a more primitive tradition than the synoptics. He applies this to eschatology, claiming that the realized eschatology of John is the original teaching of Jesus, rather than a later soften ing down of what Jesus said. The synoptics, rather than being original, represent instead a heightening of the eschatological emphasis, a literalizing of it due to misunderstanding. Dodd says "I suggest that John" reports better "what Jesus actually said to the dis ciples" than do "the more elaborate and detailed pre dictions which the Synoptics offer" (86*^16,^20). Robinson applauds and approves this view, in sisting also that the synoptic eschatology was not the original eschatology of Jesus. Instead of John being at the end of a process of rejection of eschatology he stands at the beginning of the process, before the heightening of apocalyptic speculation got under way, John being "the most primitive tradition1 1 (191*102-03). This argument I find psychologically incredible. We can. see why the church would tone down eschatology. The parousia failed. But why would it heighten escha tology? On the points raised in this paragraph, Barrett says simply, and correctly, that in the synoptics "the Christian faith is expressed purely in terms of tempor al eschatology," and that the delay of the parousia "more than any other factor, led to the development of his theology" (13*56-57)) insisting that while earlier the delay could be seen as a mere interlude, "it was no longer possible to think in this way in A. D. 100" (13s 115-16). Scott too says that as the parousia was delayed "there came a period of doubt and depression," a "sick ness of hope," which led to "despair and apathy" (217* 300-01). Against Bultmann (see Note 7, Part One), see Cullmann (70*121). On the points raised in this paragraph, see Barrett (13*57) and Dodd (SSsUOl) who both insist that in many ways the substance of John's eschatology is the same as that of the synoptics, Scott argues that the "judgement" of the last day is but a confirmation of something already effected in the present (217:2^9)• That John, while re-interpreting the hope of the final return of Jesus, never abandoned that hope is seen by R. E. Brown (37:131)» but that the emphasis has nonetheless moved from future to present is cor rectly argued for by U. E. Simon (219:101-03) and R. E. Brown (37:131-32). The fact that Cullmann appears to be on the de fensive in claiming that John has not abandoned the "mouvement horizontal de l'histoire du salut" (70:111- 12) shoves clearly that the prevailing tendency is to deny a futurist element in Johannine eschatology. See Note 36 above. Barrett writes that "the mere extension of the interim" demanded that it must be examined anew, and that it "must have a positive meaning" (13-116). The word "parousia" does not even appear in John. See Note 7, Part One. Hoskyns goes even further, insisting that Jesus too is subjected to this process of subordination to the Father (121:255). Here he probably goes too far, for the gospel's point seems to be not Jesus* inferior ity to the Father, but rather His oneness with the Fa ther. Thus those scholars who insist that Jesus dom inates the course of events are probably closer to the truth. See Bacon who claims that Jesus here is a "su perhuman being" (11:226), and Gardner-Smith who argues that John "intended to express the complete indepen dence of Jesus" (102*58). Scott (218*67-68) and Dodd (86*lk16,*+20) • Brownlee insists that the "Qumran folk regarded all those outside their communities as utterly defiled and as belonging to the realm of Belial, or Satan" (39*37), and Kuhn insists that for ^umran "the world is for them the 'land of Belial,* of Satan" (1^2*99). Jonas (I30*xvii). Colwell-Titus insist that "there can be no doubt but that John reacted violently against some specific form of Gnosticism that stressed this dualism" (61*155^ That John reacted violently against a dualistic system is certain, but that this system was Gnostic is ques tionable. It was, rather, against the apocalyptic dualism of Qumran that he reacted. Bultmann notes cor rectly how John seems to studiously avoid all the key phrases of apocalyptic thought, but he wrongly con cludes that "both Paul and John de-mythologize Gnostic cosmological dualism in the fact that by both the world continues to be understood as Sod' s creation1 1 (^2:11,6,10,15). It is Qumranian dualism being re jected, or de-mythologized. Dodd too notes John's careful avoidance of apoc alyptic imagery (86:^06), noting that even what John takes over is drastically modified. For example, the title "Son of Man" is less apocalyptic and more the "Platonic Idea of man" (85:2Mf). Barrett too sees that this re-orientation is so drastic that "it might seem at first glance that John bears no relation at all to the apocalyptic literature" (13*26). In light of all these observations it is im possible to agree with Benoit when he claims that "Jean reste fiddle d la perspective biblique du Satan • . . & la fa<jon du Qumran" (23:203). (109:l +2,5l +). (109:57-60). In his preface, Grant insists that "The only novelty of this book is perhaps the attempt to explain Gnos ticism as arising out of the debris of apocalyptic-eschatological hopes which resulted from the fall or falls of Jerusalem." On the first of these two points, Dodd writes: "It is well to set down a few more or less certain facts. First, there is no Gnostic document known to us which 512 can with any show of certainty ba dated— at any rate in the form in which we alona have access to it— before the period of the New Testament. The* attempts made by Reitzenstein and others to recover supposed earlier and pre-Christian sources are entirely of a specula tive nature." (85*98)• See, further, his remarks of Note 55* Part Two, R. E. Brown (35*281 +), and Howard, who writes in part: "Professors F. C. Burkitt and Hans Leitzmann have brought forth evidence to show that Mandaism is a late de velopment of Marcionite Gnosticism, mingled with the astrological theosophy of Bardaisan, with Christian elements mediated through Nestorian channels, and biblical allusions borrowed from the Peshitta." (123*157-58) On the second point of the paragraph, see Dodd (85*99) and Albright (6:1 5*t). 9*+. (109*15>36). Bultmann says almost exactly the same thing (^2:11,12-13). However, Jonas has shown that the very things which Bultmann here notes as - missing from John are the very heart of Gnosticisml This should at least give pause. 95* Albright notes some of the many ties between John and '4umran, yet rightly concludes that "there is a wide gulf between the doctrines of the Essenes, and the essentials of Johannine teaching," listing some of these as differences in the areas of "the Messiah, soteriology, the ministry of healing, and the idea of a 3od of love" ( 6:169-70). 513 96. Sanders insists that when the Gnostics did take up the fourth gospel, this was possible only because they misunderstood it (20^:81). R. E. Brown goes even further, doubting that this gospel ever was important to the Gnostics, noting, for example, that in the Gos pel of Thomas "there is not a single verbatim citation of John" (36:175)* 97* Bultmann notes that the New Testament regards man "as the victim of a strange dichotomy which ex poses him to the interference of powers outside him self" (*+ 8:6). Edward Langton remarks that Jesus had pity on the demoniacs and "treats them as if they were victims of an involuntary possession" C1 *+ 9:171 — 72). 98. When Gottfried Quell insists that it was "the passionate eagerness to suffer that characterized the little flock" 082:1 f6), he is wrong. Ignatius may have "glowed with passionate eagerness to suffer," but not Jesus. Or better, not the synoptic Jesus, perhaps the Johannine Jesus. 99* Bultmann notes this. In the same context in which he rejects the demonic as unacceptable today, insisting that we cannot endorse a view which sees man as exposed to the interference of supernatural evil powers or spirits, he goes on to Insist, In 100. 101 . 51 if Italics, that modern man finds the doctrine of the Holy Spirit equally “strange and incomprehensible" 0*8*6). Nygren (176:2^2), Jrundmann (112:80), Dibelius (82:111), Klausner (1^1:521), Anderson Scott On the points raised in this paragraph, Dodd seeks to find, using John 9*1 f and Luke 13*1-6, the same repudiation of the principle of retribution at work in both John and the synoptics (86:187-88). This is superficial, for if the contexts of both are considered, their differences are seen as consider able. Dodd does, elsewhere (86:172), concede that John has "contributed something of his own," but he does not pursue this. Hoskyns (l21:*+ 00) and Juilding (113* 1 *+6-^7) note the provocative delay in respect to Lazarus, the latter explaining this as John's attempt to teach the church to wait patiently for the parousia, for His delays may often be merely to bestow greater boons. Colwell-Titus and Schmiedel (Note 8, Part One) and Howard (123*189) also remark the strange difficulty involved in Jesus' delaying. Scott correctly insists that the miracles are not ends in themselves but rather symbols of Jesus' glory (217*299), thus the blindness of the one man and the death of the other serve a positive purpose. 102. 515 On the points raised in this paragraph, Gardner-Smith (102:17) notes the marked difference between Johannine and synoptic miracles, as does Howard (123:189). Neither of them recognize, however, that the change is dee to John's new anthropology. Guilding correctly notes that the miracles are no longer of the core of the life of Jesus as they were for Mark (see Richardson's statistics, Note 11, Part One), but are instead in John merely supportive (113:1). See also Scott (217:171). Reginald Fuller correctly notes that it is John alone who jumps bad; over apocalyptic and "reverts to the Old Testament meaning of a God-given sign point ing beyond itself" (100:16). See the other refer ences given in Note 11, Part One. Hoskyns (121:350) and Richardson in his entire book (186) wodld deny that the miracles in the syn optics are ends in themselves, they preferring to see the synoptic miracles as well as the Johannine as spiritual symbols. But I have already tried to rebut that view elsewhere (13^). For the view that the miracles in John are re ligious symbols and that alone, Scott (217:8,20) and Dodd (8^:90) have excellent discussions. Hindley calls attention to the often overlooked fact that it would be wrong to classify all John's 103. 10^-. 105. 106. 516 miracles under the same purpose, as some may be de signed to clarify the synoptics, others to correct the synoptics, and yet others intended as polemics against current views (119*328). We would insist that while all these motives, and others too, may enter into the reshaping of details, the primary factor in John's altered presentation of the miracles is the loss of a demonology which could no longer be retained when the parousia was delayed. Bultmann, in an exceedingly perceptive and im portant observation, insists that for John "the world does not have its origin in a tragic event of primeval time. Rather, the world is the creation of Bod" (**2: 11,17). ^he importance of this is clear when one com pares it to Bultmann"s interpretation of the synoptic world view (quoted above, pages *+00-01). Martin (166:33*+) and Lindars (158:33) both agree that the Lazarus story (1) sees suffering as positive— a means to an end, (2) recalls the pro logue's emphasis on the world as good and under God's control, and (3) is to be understood not as history but as a symbolical commentary on Jesus as the source of life. Barrett (13:67). John 8:3^. See Barrett (13*67). 107. 1 0 8. 109. 517 "Is the devil a reality for John in the mythical sense? That is very doubtful, to say the least?" Bultmann (**2*11,17). That view is far better than that of Benoit (23:203) and Barrett (13;I*3) who both wrongly claim that the conflict of Jesus with Satan is a prominent Johannine theme. It must be clearly noted that never in this gospel is the overthrow of "the prince of this world" ever tied explicitly to either the cross or the resurrection of Jesus. MacGregor attributes the lack of references to the demons to the fact that the unknown author came from Sadducean circles which rejected a belief in demons (l62:lviii). This is overly facile. Bultmann's language of "man choosing himself" and attempting to "achieve true understanding of him self" is perhaps anachronistic, reminding one more of Sartre than the fourth evangelist, but there can be no doubt of the correctness of his essential thrust that John's dualism is not metaphysical nor cosmo logical but is instead a "dualism of decision" (** 2tII, 20-21). See also Howard (123:198-99). When Hoskyns insists that "the Jews were the in struments of the Prince of darkness" but "Pilate was the unconscious agent of the divine purpose of God" (121:515) ha has missed the point. Both the Jews Pilate were unwilling servants of God, as Hoskyns him 110. 518 self elsewhere notes (121:523). On the points raised in this paragraph, Hoskyns notes that Lagrange found legal terminology to be "grotesquely inadequate," and rejected the "Paraclete as simply a counsel pleading with God for the Chris tians" (121 : *+66-70). Grotesque or not, that is pre cisely John's view, with not only the Spirit pleading with God, but with Jesus Himself making expiation to God, thus, in effect, also pleading. R. E. Brown insists that the Paraclete is "an intercessor, a mediator," and the only clear backdrop for the idea of a heavenly defender is to be found in "the late Jewish picture of the angel defender of God's people and in the Jewish sectarian (Qumran) concept" of the angelic Spirit of Truth who will do battle with Belial. Brown also, however, concludes by noting that whatever John may have taken from the Qumranians he also reshaped and adapted (37*117*121, 126). Freed also notices the similarity to Qumran, though he fails to mark adequately the equally impor tant differences (99*31). s©® also Guilding (113:90). On the negative work of the Spirit, accusing the unbelieving world. Brown rightly notes that the role of the Paraclete "is that of a prosecuting attorney proving the world guilty" (37:116). Scott notes this strange fact that in John the responsibility of man is both affirmed and simul taneously denied (217:11-12,277). Barrett insists that in the Nicodemus story "the predestinarian teaching of this gospel comes clearly to light" (13: 182). Freed (99*121) finds predestinarian teaching in John 12:38. Simon too, though more cautiously, sees predestinarian teaching in John, explaining it as a "corrective to a possible misunderstanding that a personal choice is enough to create eternal life" (219*10*+). Hoskyns too is cautious, but does agree that faith "belongs to the sphere of the divine init iative" (121:270). But most cautious— and most troubled in view of his argument for a "dualism of decision" (Note 108 above) in John— is Bultmann. He rids himself of this motif in a double way. First, there is the convenient route of ascribing all that is unpleasant to the ever present redactor. Apart from that, Bultmann goes on to note the many passages which appear to posit "the division of mankind into two groups" which make it seem as if mankind "is from the outset determined." He notes, alongside this series of passages, another which calls for decision. He ends by interpreting the former in the light of the latter. But that is sim- 520 ply to reject one list in favor of the other, and to miss the fact that John i§. inconsistent• In reject ing the determinism of Qumran he has created uninten tionally a new form of determinism. 112. T. H. L. Parker (180) finds it interesting that Karl Barth leaned as heavily on John as he did on Paul in discussing predestination and in developing his views on God Alone as the sol'e active force in the cosmos• Barth could do that only because he misunder stood Paul, seeing in him the same God-determinism to be found in John. Morrison rightly corrects Barths “Such texts as Rom.8: 38, I Cor.15:23« and Eph.6:11 prove Barth, Cullmann, and others to have exceeded the meaning of the New Testament (if not actually op posed to it) in their argument for the positive place of the powers in the kingdom of Christ. . . That this inter pretation of the powers' conscription to serve in the kingdom of Christ is foreign to the New Testament is apparent in the total lack of evidence to sup port it." (171 :^5-l* 6) Morrison, in turn, is wrong in insisting that this conscription of the powers "to serve in the kingdom of Christ is foreign to the New Testament." It is foreign to Paul, but not to John. Barrett correctly notes that, for Paul, "pre destination is the most comfortable of all Christian doctrines" (1^:171 )• This is true, because, for Paul, 113- 111 * . 115- 116, 117. 118. 521 the idea grows out of demonology, and includes the fact of God rescuinng man. Hoskyns agrees that John apparently fails to see the contradiction he has created (121:295). Barrett agrees, but goes on to insist that the "tension of predestination of choice is of course not peculiar to John but is characteristic of New Testament theology as a whole" (13:68). Perhaps that is as far as we can go. Emil Brunner is a vociferous proponent of the Anselmian position (*+0:^38-39,****3) • This is a point clearly seen by Vincent Taylor (235:268,306-10). On Taylor's studies on forgiveness and guilt, see Note 117, Part One. On his insistence that recon ciliation is the key term, see (235:279). For a statistical study of Paul's usage of words such as reconciliation, love, forgiveness, bond age, etc., see my earlier work (135:53-72). The sta tistics make clear that reconciliation is not a key word for Paul. On the paucity of the idea of expiation in Paul, see, among others, Schweitzer (215*21 *t). Scott (218:50-52) has an excellent discussion. On the issues raised in this paragraph, Hoskyns 522 insists that "the ministry of the love of Jod finds its complete expression in the death of His Son" (121* *+ 36). Barrett too recognizes the shift from the Paul ine stress on the resurrection to the Johannine stress on the crucifixion (13*^)* Bultmann, though in a more qualified way, stresses the crucifixion as the place of completion of Christ's work (*+2:11,52-53)* Bacon insists that the cross in John combines that event with the synoptic transfiguration scene, so great is John's stress on the death as Jesus' hour of supreme exaltation (11:21 M—1 5). See also the many references given in Note 7, Part One. 119. On the issues raised in this paragraph, both Dodd (86:127) and 3acon (11:226) note that John's pla cing of the women at the foot of the cross was done for a theological reason, though both fail to recog nize what that reason was. Even as Paul and Acts had to furnish witnesses to the resurrection, so also John had to furnish witnesses to the crucifixion. Hoskyns notes that the text, literally, says not that Jesus "gave up" the spirit but that He "han ded over the Spirit." The point, Hoskyns rightly goes on to note, is that it is out of the crucified body itself that the "rivers of living water" flow, and the "outpouring of the Spirit here must be understood 120. 523 in close connection with the outpouring of the water and the blood," because "at the time of the Lord*s death a new family was brought into being" Cl21s530— 32). On the points raised in this paragraph, Hoskyns insists that because the death of Jesus is the will of God (as opposed to the work of the evil one), "there is nothing sad or terrible in the death of the Johannine Christ" (121:22). This also is the point of the references cited earlier (Note 7* Part One) which insisted that the element of tragedy is gone from the death of Jesus, and the point of Colwell and Titus1 remark that "the disciples do nothing to pre vent the betrayal. To interfere would have been to go against both Jesus and the Father" (61:83). U. E. Simon claims that death in John is an enemy, but close examination indicates that he means it is an enemy for the unbeliever, that is, a judgement of God (219* 98-99). Both Dodd (233-37) and Bultmann (*+2: II, 53-55) argue against a theory of expiation in John. Bultmann claims that "the interpretation of Jesus1 death as an atonement for sina is not, therefore, what determines John's view." He concedes that the figure of the lamb "compels us to think of sacrifice," but goes on to insist that "nothing compels us to conclude that 52b the evangelist sees this sacrifice only in Jesus1 death rather than in his whole ministry." His con clusion is that "the thought of Jesus' death as an atonement for sins has no place in John," it being "a foreign element in his work." Bultmann makes much of the fact that Jesus "takes away" sin is the literal translation of what Jesus does. Dodd too stresses this point, stating that "it is not legitimate to understand airein amar- tein as 'to bear sin,' implying an interpretation of the death of Christ as a particular sacrifice. It means 'to remove sin."' Neither argument is convincing. Bultmann con cedes that there is sacrificial language of expiation in I John , written by the same author, but he attributes this to the ever present redactor, and ex plains away John 6 :53 and 19:3^b in the same way. But it becomes clear as one reads on that Bultmann is not so much denying an expiational interpretation of the death of Christ as much as he is insisting that the entire life of Christ, not just His death, is a sacrifice unto God. With that we have no argument, for even Bultmann sees the death as the peculiar cul mination of that life of sacrifice (see Note 118 above). Dodd's argument is even less impressive. He 525 tries to insist that the idea of expiation is men tioned only allusively by the author, and never is it stressed. That is not true. In the very first chap ter Jesus is identified as the lamb of Clod, and the entire gospel is to be read in the light of that phrase, and when the bread is multiplied we are once more reminded Df the death of the paschal lamb, again indicating that for the author it is from the death 01’ Jesus that men are fed. Dodd goes on to confess that ' ‘there might be some suggestion of an expiatory sacrifice in the words of Caiaphas." True, and it must be further recalled that the evangelist insists that Caiaphas spoke inspired of God. Hoskyns, on the other hand, vigorously insists that "the writer comes to speak most emphatically, and apparently naturally, of the death of Christ. It Is the blood of Jesus, the Son of God, that 'cleanseth us from all sin.: He is the propitiation— a manifest ly sacrificial word which presupposes His death— for our sins" (121:5V), adding elsewhere that Jesus' death is a sacrifice offered on behalf of His dis ciples (121 :502). Barrett also claims that the death of Jesus is portrayed as for the remission of sins and "the thought that Christ bore the hamartian tou kosmou 121 . 526 is present as well as the belief that, as a sacri ficial victim, he took them away and secured forgive ness," concluding that "John indicates that the death of Jesus was a new and better sacrifice" C13s1^7)- On the allusions to the Gethsemane scene and its transformation in John, Jesus now seeking the cup rather than shrinking back from it, see Moore (170* 75-93), and Colwell-Titus (61:78). On the points raised in this paragraph, we al ready noted in the preceding Note that Dodd denies the significance of the phrase "the lamb of God." See also his remarks elsewhere (86:U-3,269). Scott too minimizes the importance of the title (217:219). But we have already argued that attempts to minimize the importance of the title have failed. Scott him self goes on to recognize that the death of Jesus is made to coincide with the death of the paschal lamb (217:226). Colwell-Titus too seem guilty of an in consistency here, noting that Jesus is "God's lamb" and "dies at the hour when the Passover lamb was slain," only to go on to say there is "no association, except verbal and symbolic" (61:15*163). What is de manded, beyond verbal and symbolic association? For one of the fullest discussions of the paral lel between Jesus and the lamb, see Schmiedel's ex— 527 cellent discussion in which he notes an amazing num ber of corresponding details, concluding that "Jesus had been made to carry out to the exact letter, in his own person, the whole fate of the paschal lamb" (210:127-28). Hoskyns, more compactly, but equally emphatically, insists on the unmistakable parallel (121 :?25). Freed agrees that it is because Jesus' death is meant to be seen as parallel to and the fulfillment of the death of the lamb that the crucifixion's date is moved forward in John (99*111 * - ) * and Barrett says exactly the same thing (13:^2). Dodd, however, main tains that John's dating is historically correct, and not theologically motivated (85*23*0. As to John's heavy concentration on specific Scriptural quotations in the telling of Jesus' cruci fixion, see Colwell-Titus (61:101), Schmiedel (210: 128-29), and Hoskyns who insists that "the death of Jesus is the completion of the Scriptures," noting well that it is indeed the death as opposed to the resur rection in which "the Christ has attained His mission" (121:531). Freed too notes that there is an increased emphasis on Old Testament quotations at the moment of the cross (99*102). Hoskyns stresses John 19*35 as the moment of 122. 123. 528 supreme importance in the gospel, demanding that the author emerge from his anonymity because this is the climax of Jesus' work, and as such demands a witness (121 . * 533-3^). The statement often made about the synoptics, that they are passion stories with extended introduc tions, is not true of the synoptics. They are gos pels and not passions, stressing the power of the resurrection and not the humiliation of the cross. But that remark true of John, whose whole writing is aimed at the cross, from which Jesus can say "It is finished" (literally, "It has been accomplished"). Schmiedel remarks that "no one has been able to offer a suggestion which is even remotely probable" as to why the synoptists would have altered the data of the crucifixion (210*129). Dodd, however, as we have seen, claims John's dating as historical. He is disputed in this by Higgins who is equally concerned to recover historical material in John (117s^+9)• Barrett too agrees that the Johannine dating "may not be good history, but It does seem to be Johannine theology" (13:V|). Davis writes that "the resurrection has no logi cal place in the fourth gospel. There is no need for it" '(76:111). Barrett writes that Jesus' death "is 12*+. 125. 529 complete in itself, and does not need the resurrection to complete it1 * (123*25^). Bultmann writes that since ' ‘the cross is already his exaltation and glori fication, his resjrrection cannot be an event of spe cial significance1 1 (^-2:11,56). So also Scott (217* 19^). Sardner-Smith rightly calls the resurrection merely a confirmatory "great 'sign1 1 1 (102:16). Bultmann insists that all these titles exnress the fact that "Jesus is the eschatological salvation- bringer, that his coming is the eschatological event" (**2:11,37). On the points raised in this paragraph, Gardner- Smith notes how the resurrection and ascension events are commingled (102:80), as do Colwell-Titus (61:98- 99), Scott (217*308), and Bultmann (^2:11,57). See further the extended list of references given in Note 7, Part One, on this point, and other points of this paragraph. On Jesus' command to Mary not to touch Him, and its significance, see Hoskyns (121:5^2-^3). That the "little while" refers merely to the .interlude between the death and the resurrection, see Scott (218:68) and Bultmann (*t2:11,8,12,38,79,85). Quotations from scholars who have found real- 126. 127. 530 ized eschatology in John could be heaped endlessly one upon the other. For representative views, see Fritz Barth (18:2*0, Scott (217:2*+7)* Bultmann who insists that "the history-of-salvation perspective as a whole is lacking in John" because "the eschatolog- ical salvation-event is already taking place in the present" (*+2:11,8,12), and Hoskyns (121:123). Bultmann's view that "the terminology appropri ate to Easter again and again mingles with that appro priate to the parousia" making the two events into but one (*+2:11,57) is shared by Hoskyns (121 :268), Bacon (11:322-255, and, a little more cautiously, by Barrett (13:59). Scott flatly states that "the real parousia has taken place already" because "his resur rection was also his return" (217*302,312). Scott speaks of the passage of time as eventu ally demanding that the gospel be retold "in the terms of a different culture" (218:29-30). On the points raised in this paragraph, Connick notes that John's style was often Greek, giving not iosissima verba but using Thucydides' practice of put ting his own idea of what happened into the mouths of the speakers (62:168), a point made long before by MacGregor (162:xxiii) among others. Dodd's whole commentary is based upon the con- 128. 129. *31 viction that it is the hymns of the Poimandres which remains the best religious parallel to John (85*17)» a point he had made much earlier (87*200). He finds many examples of how John*s gospel recalls Greek, as over against Hebraic, concepts. Son of Man is more Greek than apocalyptic (85^s i the idea of Rebirth is "not likely to have been derived from Christian sources” (85*52); Platonist "eternal ideas” are the keys to understanding the parabolic allusions of this gospel (85*8^,139-»^3); leading ideas such as Truth and Faith "are more Hellenistically than Hebraistically coloured” (85*179-86). Barrett insists that "both Hebraic and Hellen istic elements are to be found in this gospel” and "are fused into a unitary presentation,” the gospel being "a synthesis of Jewish and Greek thought” (13* 32). Scott (217:6,35*+) and Robinson (191*116). Bultmann has an exceedingly penetrating article on this subject (*+7). His basic view is that for the Greek knowledge is contemplation or awareness, whereas for the Hebrew it is obedience or experience. The Greek conceives the process of knowing as seeing, he externalizes the object of knowledge, contemplates it from a distance, and endeavors to ascertain its easen- 130. 131 . 132. 532 tial qualities. It is the thing in itself, as static, that he seeks to grasp, eliminating so far as poss ible its movements and changes as being derogatory to its real or permanent essence. The Hebrew on the other hand conceives knowledge as consisting in ex perience of the object in its relation to the subject. Thus it is in the object in its action and in its ef fects, rather than the thing in itself, that is known. Accordingly, for the Greek to know God means to con template the ultimate reality, the changeless essence. For the Hebrew to know Hod is to acknowledge Him in His works and to resoond to His claims. "The fourth evangelist— though almost certainly a Jew-had entered deeply into the spirit of Greek philosophy" (218*31-33). On this point, Dodd, referring to Plato's Timaaus. concludes that when the author speaks of eternal life it is “in the Platonic sense" (85*1^9-50). So also Benoit (23*206) and Schmiedel (210:237) and Bultmann Of2sII,16)v Barrett insists on the true humanity of Jesus in this gospel (13*62). Dodd stresses the reference to sarx as being definitely Jewish and not Greek (88*15) and elsewhere insists that the thirsting from the cross is a sign of true humanity (86:^2). But it re 133. 533 mains for Bultmann to stress most vigorously the true humanity of Jesus (M-2:II.^O-Vl). See the other refer ences given in Note 19* Part One, However, Hoskyns, while acknowledging Jesus' "overwhelming grief" and the fact that He was "trou bled" and "wept," goes on to insist that these are not introduced as experiences due to normal human sym pathy or emotions (121 :*K)5). Schmiedel too rejects the view that these outbursts of Jesus were due to human grief or emotions, insisting instead that it was all due to the fact that the crowd did not believe in Him (210:30-31). See the further references in Note 25, Part One, On the points raised in this paragraph, Davis insists that Jesus is a docetic figure, and whenever emotions do appear, as in the death of Lazarus, "it is in no sense human emotion, but is instead the sor row of Crod" due to the crowd's lack of faith (76:109), See the further references in Notes 7 and 8 of Part One. Bacon sees this suppression of passion and com passion in Jesus as due to the influence of the Stoic principle of apathela (11:192-93), and Colwell-fitus also seem to link this to Stoic influence (6l:1*+7)# It remains for Scott to argue in greatest detail 13*+. 135. 53^ for the view that John throughout is thinking like a Greek, seeing flesh as a hindrance, life in the body- imposing limitations, limitations which would be set aside only by the resurrection when Jesus would be freed and "become a universal presence instead of a visible person hedged about with human conditions" (217*227-28). Barrett notes that "in the synoptic gospels Jesus is not defined in terms of deity but in terms of his work," continuing with "John*s thought about Jesus is on the other hand not: so much functional as essential" (13:l+5). Scott remarks that John reverses "the method of the Synoptists, he does not reason from the outward actions to the Person behind them, but judges the work from his theory of the Person" (21 7*1^5). See also Schmiedel (210*37-^2), and Bultmann (*f2* 11,60-61). Barrett insists that for John the sonship of Jesus involves a metaphysical relationship, a shared substance (13:60). Long ago, Sanday insisted on the same truth (201*223). But again it is E. F. Scott who develops this idea most extensively, stressing the shift from Hebrew activity to Greek essence (217*191, 201 and 218*^9). He extends this idea into a discus sion of Jesus* work where here too the thought of 136. 535 John must be grasped In Greek essential terms, claim ing that "the ultimate purpose of His coming— to transmute man's nature" (217*259). To support this, he notes that the doctrine of sin "Is almost wholly absent from the Fourth Gospel" because Jesus' "saving work has reference not to man's sinfulness, but to man's Inferior nature," and the "'sin' from which Christ has offered us deliverance is the natural in capacity of man to possess himself of the higher lifef' (217*221-22). This transmutation of man's substance is accomplished through the sacraments (217:260). Colwell-Titus too seem to be saying that Jesus' work is not to forgive men's sins but to transmute man's nature that man might "become divine" (61:16). We have already argued that John has a theory of ex piation, thus he has not moved away entirely from the Hebrew stress on the verb. But the above comments cannot be entirely set aside. Scott goes on to Insist that, despite himself, John has divested the historical life of Jesus of much of Its value precisely because ha is thinking in Greek categories (217*21 5,326-27)• Sanday began his lectures at Union Seminary by Insisting that John's thought was built on Paul's (201:vii). Other scholars also see John as a direct 536 extension of Pauline teaching, even Barrett stating that one "cannot fail to be impressed by the consider able measure of agreement between Paul and John" (13s Dodd backs off from such a view, insisting that "the actual range of Pauline influence upon Johannine thought has been exaggerated" (85^ s1 *-)• Bultmann re jects the view entirely, insisting that there is no "linear scheme of development," and that "the two lie in quite different directions" (*+2:11,6), V/ith such an evaluation we must agree. Long ago, Schweitzer argued as a continuing thesis of his book (21 that Paulinism never attained a prominent position in the later church, insisting that later Ireek theologians used only isolated passages from Paul in a proof-text fashion, they never being able to grasp his thought. It is that fact which rests behind Harnack's famed dictum, "There was only one man who understood Paul, Marcion, and he misunderstood him." The theology of Paul and that of John are two distinct and separate theological entities. For one, the parousia was a flaming hope, the theological ex pression was basically Hebraic, the atonement was seal in Christus Victor terms; and for the other the hope of the parousia had died out, Jesus was presented in 537 Greek essential terms, and the atonement was inter preted expiationally. This transformation of Christian theology was not done entirely unconsciously by John. He knew that if the teaching of the church was to survive in its altered element, with the church now Greek and no longer Hebrew, with the parousia now a dead hope, that message had to be deliberately recast. And re cast it he did, in the process making it possible for the church to continue. Thus Hoskyns is quite cor rect in insisting that John more than any other writ ing "has contributed to plant Christianity in the Greek world and make of it the universal religion" (121:23). It was John, not Paul, who was embraced by the later church, and it was John, not Paul, upon whom the title The Theologian was bestowed. This was so because John opened the door to "new and fruitful lines of development" which enabled Christianity to make "itself heir to the results of five centuries of Hellenic thinking" (217!368). Scott goes on from there to insist that it was this gospel "which may be said to have marked out the direction which the great stream of Christian thought was henceforth to follow," John transplanted the Jewish religion into new 538 soil. The early apocalyptic ideas ware changed into their spiritual equivalents, and the eschatological concepts of Jesus and Paul and the synoptists were no longer involved in the wrappings of myth. By this dissolving of the old apocalyptic hopes, the evange list broke away from much that was characteristic of earlier Christianity, but he also made it possible for Christianity to survive. In short, John was the first demythologizor, attempting to recast the content of Christianity into new thought forms which would be more congenial and more comprehensible to a new time and a new audience. 539 BIBLIOGRAPHY OF WORKS CITED 1. Abbott, Edwin A. The Son of Man. Cambridge* Univer sity Press, 1910. 2. Abbott, T. K. Ephesians-Colossians. 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"Un SchSme de Revelation dans le Quat- rieme Evangile." New Testament Studies. Till (January, 1962), 1**2-5l. 79. Denney, James. The Death of Christ. Londons Hodder & Stoughton, 1902. 9+5 80. Dibelius, Martin. Die urchristliche Uberlieferung uber, Johannes dem Taufer.Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1911. 81. . Die Formees chi elite des Evangeliums_. Tubingen: J. G. B. Mohr, 1919. 82. . Paul. Edited and completed by W. G. Kummel. Translated by Frank Clarke. Londons Longmans, 1953- 83. . "The Structure and Literary Character of the Gospels." Harvard Theological Review. XX (July, 1927), 151-70. 8*f. Dodd, Charles Harold. The Parables of the Kingdom. Rev. ed. Londons Nisbet & Co., 193&. 85. , . The Interpretation of ,_the Fourth Go^p^l. Cambridge: University Press, 19&3* 86. Historical Tradition in the Fourth Gpanfll. Cambridge: University Press, 1963. 87. . The Authority of the Bible. Rev. ad. Harper Torchbooks. New York: Harper and Brothers, 1960. 88. . "The Prologue to the Fourth Gospel and Christian Worship." Studies in the Fourth Gospel. Edited by F. L. CrossTLondon: Mowbray, 1957* 89. Drummond, James. An Inquiry into the Character and Authorship of the Fourth Gospel. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 190*+. 90. Easton, Burton Scott. The Gospel According to St, Luka. New York* Charles Scribner*s Sons, 1926. 91. . . Christ, la._the Gospels. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1930. 92. Edwards, H. E. The Disciple Who Wrote These Things. London: James Clarke & Company, 1953* 93. Edwards, R. A. The Gospel According to St. John. London* Eyre & Spottiswoode, 195*+. 9*+. Eisler, Robert. "Zur Fusswaschung am Tage vor dem Pas- sah." Zeitsohrift ffrr die neatg^t^ehtUfilia W is s a n s c h a ft. XX7 {September, 1913?> 268-71• 95* 96. 97. 98. 99. 100. 101 . 102. 103. 101+. 10?. 1 0 6. 107. 108. 5^6 Ellis, E. Earle. "II Corinthians v.1-10 in Pauline Eschatology." Naw Testament Studies. VT (April, 1960), 211-2b. Epp, Eldon Jay. The Theological Tendency of Codex Bezae Cantabriglansis in Acts. New York: Cambridge university Press, 1966. Evans, Ernest. "Tha Verb AGAPKIN in the Fourth Gos pel." Studies in the Fourth Gospel. Edited by F. L. Cross. London: Mowbray, 1957* Flew, Newton. Jesus and His Church. London: Epworth Press, 1939. Freed, Edwin D. Old Testament Quotations in the Gos pel of John. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1965. Fuller. Reginald. Interpreting the Miracles. Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1963. Gardner-Smith, Percy. The Ephesian Gospel. New York: G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1915* ________• St. John and the Synoptic Gospels. Cambridge: University Press, 1938. ________. "St. John's Knowledge of Matthew." Jour nal of Theological Studies. New Series, IV (April, 19539 V 31-35. Green-Armytage, A. E. N. John Who Saw. London: Faber & Faber, 1952. Goguel, Maurice. Jesus and tha Orlgin^ of Chris tianity. 2 vols. Translated by Olive Iffy on. Harper Torchbooks. New York: Harper & Row, 1960. ________. "Une nouvelle dcole de critique evan- ue • ” H f l Y . u e de I'Hjstoirg f l e s RQUsipna. XCIV (March, 1926), 11^-36. Goodwin, Charles. "How did John treat His Sources?" Jo^nial^ of ^Biblical Literature. LXXIII (June, Grant, Frederick C. An Introduction to New Testament Thought. New York: Abingdon Press, 1955. 109. 110. 111 . 112. 113. 115. 116. 117. 118. 119. 120. 121 . 122. 5^7 Grant, Robert M. Gnosticism and Early Christianity. New York: Columbia University Press, 1959. ________. "The Fourth Gospel and the Church." Harvard Theological Review. XXXV (April, 19^2), 95-116. . "The Origin of the Fourth Gospel." Jour- of Biblical Literature. LXIX (December, 305-31. aalof 1950), Grundmann, Walter. "Sin." Bible Key Words. Edited and translated by J. R. Coates. New Yorks Harper and Brothers, 1951. Guilding, Aileen. The Fourth Gospel and Jewish Wor ship s A Study of the Relationship of St. John1s Gospel to the Ancient Jewish Lectionarv System. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 19^0. Hanson, A. T. The Wrath of the Lamb. London: SPCK, 1957. Harris. J. Rendel. Testimonies. 2 vols. Cambridge: University Press, 1916-20. Hayes, D. A. John and His Writings. New York: Methodist Book Concern, 1917. Higgins, A. J. B. The Historicity of the Fourth Gos pel. London: Lutterworth Press, i960. Review of Historical Tradition in the Fourth Gospelr by Charles Harold Dodd. Scottish Journal of Theology. XVII (September, 196*+), 359-62. Hindley. J. C. "Witness in the Fourth Gospel." Sco111sh Journal of Theology. XVIII (September, 1965), 319-37. Holland, Henry Scott. The Fourth Gospel. London: J. Murray, 1923. Hoskyns. Edwyn. The Fourth Gospel. Edited and com pleted by Francis Noel Davey. 2nd ed. rev. London: Faber & Faber, 19^7. Howard, Wilbert. Christianity According to St. John. London: Duckworth Press, 19^3. -123. 1 2*f. 125. 126. 127. 128. 129. 130. 131. 132. 133. 13^. 135. 136. 5^8 ________• The Fourth Gospel in Recent Criticism. Edited by Charles Kingsley Barrett. Londons Epworth Press, 1951. Howton, Dora John. 11'Son of Cod' in the Fourth Sos- pel." New Testament Studies. X (January, 196^), 227-37. Hulen, Amos B. "The Call of the Four Disciples in John 1." Journal of Biblical Literature. LXVII (June, 19^), 153-^8. Jaubert, A. La Date de la Cene. Paris: (labalda, 1957. Jeremias, Joachim. The Parables of Jesus. Trans lated by S. H. Hooke.London: SCM Press Ltd., 19 *f. ________. J6sus et les pSiens. Traduction fran9aise de Jean Carrdre. Cahier Th^ologiques. Paris: Delachaux & Niestl^, 1958. ________. "The Parable of the Shepherd." Zeit- schrift fur die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft. XLVI (December, 1955)? 233^0* Jonas, Hans. The Snostic Religion. 2nd ed. rev. Boston: Beacon Press, 1963. Johnston, E. D. "The Johannine Version of the Feeding of the Five Thousand— An Independent Tradition?" New Testament Studies. VIII (January, 1962), 151-53. Julicher, Adolf. Einlaitung in das Neue Testament. Tubingen: J. C. Mohr, 1901. Juster, Jean. Las Julfs dans l1Empire Homain. 2 vols. Paris: Paul Seuthner, 191 *+• Kallas, James. The. Sjgnlflaance of the Synoptic Miracles. London: SPCK, 1961. ---. The Satanward View. A Study in Paulina Theology. Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1966. Kasemann, Ernst. Review of Das Bvangelimn des Johan- by Rudolf Bultmann. Verkundlgung und For- afitelS, Theologischar Jahresbericht.Ill (March, 137. 138. 139. 1*K>. . 1U-2. 1^3. iMf. 1^5. 1U6. 1**7. 5^9 19^2), 182-201. ________ . "Ketzer und Zeuge, zum jchannelschen Ver- fassaruroblem." Zeitschrift fur Theolpgle und Kirchel XL/III (January, 1 951), 7%99. ________ • "Neuestaraentliche Fragen von Haute. 1 1 Zeitschrift fClr Theologle und Kirche. LIV (April, 1957), 24-9-70. Kennedy, H. A. A. The Theology of the Epistles. Londons Duckworth Press, 193*+. Kilpatrick, G. D. ’ 'The Religious Background of the Fourth Gospel." Studies in the Fourth Gospel. Edited by F. L. Cross. London: Mowbray, 1957 • Klausner, Joseph. From Jesus to Paul. Translated by William F. Stinespring. Londons Allen and Urwin, 1939. Kuhn. K. G. "New Light on Temptation, Sin, and Flesh in the New Testament." The Scrolls and the New Testament. Edited by Krister Stendahl. New York: Harper and Brothers, 1957* ________ . "The Lord's Supper and the Communal Meal at Qumran." The Scrolls and the New Testament. Edited by Krister Stendahl. New Yorks Harper and Brothers, 1957* "Die in Palastina gefunden hebraischen Texte und das Neue Testament." Zeitschrift fur Theologie und Kirche. XLVII (April, 19^0), 209-3% "Die Sektenschrift und die Iranische Religion." Zeitschrift fur Theologie und Kirahe. XLIX (July, 1952), 296-311. Kummel, Werner, ed. Introduction to the NewTesta ment , by Paul Feine and Johannes Behm. trans lated by A. J. Mat till, Jr. 1*+th ed. New York: Abingdon Press, 1966. Kundsin, Karl. "Topologische Ueberlieferungsstoffa im Johannesevan^elium." Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuan Testaments. Heft 22. Gdttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1925. 1W. 1i*9. 1 50. 151. 1 52. 153. 1 51 *. 155. 156. 157. 1 58. 159. 160. 161. 1 6 2. 163. 550 Lagrange, M. J. L’Evangile selon Saint Jean. *fth ed. Paris: Librairie Victor Lecoffre, 1927. Langton, Edward. Essentials of Demons1ogy. London: Epworth Press, 19WI Leaney. A. R. G. The Rule of 3umran and its Meaning. Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1966. Lee, E. K. The Religious Thought of St. John. London* £>PGK, 1950. ________. "St. Mark and the Fourth Gospel." New Testament Studies. Ill (October, 1956), 50-71 • Lewis, Warburton. Disarrangements in the Fourth Gos pel. London: Macmillan Company,1910. Lightfoot, J. B. Biblical Essays. London: Macmillan Company, 1893. Lightfoot, R. H. History and Interpretation in the Gosnels. New York: Harper and Brothers, 1935* St. John's Gospel. Toronto: Oxford HniversTty Press, 1956. Lindars. Barnabas. New Testament Apologetic: The Doctrinal Significance of the Old Testament ^oTationsT frnfeg: Sci^ Press tTd~T95TT "The Fourth Gospel an Act of Contemplation" Studies in the Fourth Gospel. Edited by F. L. Cross. London: Mowbray, 1957- Loisy, Alfred. Le Mandaisme et les Ori^ines Chritiennes. Paris: B. Nourry, 193*+- Lucke, Friedrich. Commentar dber des Evangelium das Johannes. Gdttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 18^0. Lyman, Mary E. The Fourth Gospel and the Life of Today. New York: Macmillan Company^ 1931. MacGregor, G. H. C. The Gosoel of St. John. Koffatt New Testament Commentary. New York: Harper and Brothers, n. d. ________. "The Eucharist in the Fourth Gospel." New 16M-. 165. 166. 167. 168. 169. 170. 171. 172. 173. 17*+. 551 Testament Studies. IX (January, 1963), 111-19. McNeile, P. H. An Introduction to the Study of the New Testament! 2nd ed. Revised by CJ. S. G. Williams.Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1953. Manson, T. W. "The Life of Jesus: Some Tendencies in Present-day Research." The Background of the New Testament and its Eschatology. Studies in Honour of Charles Harold Dodd. Edited by W. D. Davies and ft. I>aube. Cambridge: University Press, 196^. Martin, James P. "History and Eschatology in the Lazarus Narrative: John 11:1-^*." Scottish Jour nal of Theology. XVII (September, 19640 , 332-1 +3. Meeks, Wayne. "Calilee and Judaea in the Fourth Cos- pel." Journal of Biblical Literature. LXXXIV (September, 196^), 159-69. Menoud, Philippe-Henri. L'Svangile de Jean d'aores Recherches Recentes. 2nd ed. rev. Neuchatel: Delachaux & Niestld, 19l +7. Moffatt, James. An Introduction to the Literature of the New Testament, rfew xork: Charles Scribner* s Sons, 1918. Moore, W. E. "Sir, We Wish to See Jesus--Was this an Occasion of Temptation?" Scottish Journal of Theology. XX (March, 196717 7^-93. Morrison. Clinton. The Powers That Be. Studies in Biblical^Theology. London: SCM Press Ltd., 1960. Moule, C. F. D. "The Intention of the Evangelists." jfe-WBsgayg: Studies in Honour of T. W. Manson. Edited by A. J. B. Higgins. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1959. Mowry, Lucetta. "The Dead Sea Scrolls and the Back- f round for the Cospel of John." Biblical rchaeologlst. XVII (December, 195*0, 78-87. Noack, Bent. Zur. Johanneischen Tradition. Beitrage aur Xritik an dsr literkritischen Analyse des vlerten Bvangellums. Stfrie de Theologie. Copenhagen: Rosenkilde og Bagger, 195^. 175- 176. 177. 178. 179. 180. 181. 182. 183. 181+. 185. 186. 187. 188. 552 Nock. Arthur Darby. Early Gentile Christianity and its Hellenistic Background. Earner Torchbooks. ‘ New Yorks H carper & Row, 196U-. Nygren, Anders. Commentary on Romans. Translated by Carl C. Rasmussen. Philadelphia: Muhlenberg Pre s s, 19*+9 • Odeberg. Hugo. The Fourth Cosnel Interpreted in Re lation to Contemporaneous Religious Currents in Palestine and the Hellenistic-Orieqt.al Wprld* Uppsala: A.-b. Lundequistska bokhandeln, 1929. Olmstead, A. T. Jesus in the Light of History. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 19^-2. Parker, Pierson. i r Two Editions of John.'1 Journal of Biblical Literature. DQCV (December, 195bT7^^*^ 303-m-. Parker, T. H. L. "Karl Barth and the Fourth Gospel." Studies in the Fourth Gospel. Edited by F. L. Cross. London: Mowbray, 1957* Perry, Alfred. "The Growth of the Gospels." The Interpreter's Bible. Vol. VII. New York: Abingdon Press, 1951 * Quell, Gottfried. "Love." Bible Key Words. Edited and translated by J. R. Coates.New York: Harper and Brothers, 1951 • Redlich, Basil. Form Criticism. London: Duckworth Press, 1939« Renan. Ernest. Vie de J6sus. 13th ed. Paris: Michel L6vry Frdres, 1o88. Revllle, Jean. Le Quatri&ne Evangile. son origlne et sa valehistorique. 2nd ed. Paris: E. Leroux, 1 9 0 2. Richardson, Alan. The Miracle-Stories of the Gospels. London: SCM Press Ltd., 1952. Riecke, Bo. "Traces of Gnosticism in the Dead Sea Scrolls." New Testament Studies. I (September, 195^), 137-Si: Robert, A., and Feuillet, A. R. Introduction to the New Testament. New York: Desclee, 196?. 189. 190. 191. 192. 193. 19* + . 195. 196. 197. 198. 199. 200. 201. 553 Robinson, James H. A New Quest pf the Historical Jesus. Studies in Biblical Theology. London: SCM Press Ltd., 1959. Robinson, John A. T. The Body. Studies in Biblical Theology. London: ScJM Pres s. Ltd., 1957* . "The New Look on the Fourth Gospel." Twelve New Testament Studies. Studies in Bibli cal Theology. Naperville: R. Allenson, 1962. "The Destination and Purpose of St. John's Gospel." Twelve New Testament Studies. Studies in Biblical Theology. Naoerville: A.R. Allenson, 1962. ________. "The Baptism of John and the '^umran Commu nity." Twelve New Testament Studies. Studies in Biblical Theology. Naoerville: A. R. Allenson, 1962. ________. "Elijah. John, and Jesus." Twelve New Testament Studies. Studies in Biblical Theology. Naperville: A. R. Allenson, 1962. ________. "The 'Others' of John l f:38., t Twelve New Testament Studies. Studies in Biblical Theology, ifaperville: A. R. Allenson, 1962. ________. "The Relation of the Prologue to the Gos pel of St. John." New Testament Studies. IX (January, 1963), 120-29. Roth, Cecil. "The Cleansing of the Temple and Zechariah 1^:21." Novum Testament urn. IV (October, 1960), 176-80. Rowley, H. H. "Jewish Proselyte Baptism and the Bap tism of John." From Hoses to Qumran. New York: Association Press, 1963* Ruckstuhl, E. Die literarlsche Slnheit des Johannes- evangeliumsTPer gegenvr&rtige Stand der einschlg- glgen Forschuneen. Freiburg: Paulusverlag, 1951. Russell, D. S. Thg Method and Message of Jewish Apocalyptic.Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1961+. Sanday, William. The Criticism of the Fourth Gospel. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1921. 202, 203. 20^. 205. 206. 207. 208. 209. 2 1 0 . 2 1 1. 2 1 2. 213. 21* + . 21 5. 216. 55^ ________. The Divine Overruling. Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, n. d. Sanders, J. N. The Fourth Qosoel in the Early Church. Toronto: Macmillan Company, 19^3. . 'Hi/ho Was the Disciple Whom Jesus Loved?" Studies in the Fourth Gospel. Edited by F. L. Cross.London: Mowbray, 1957* "Those Whom Jesus Loved: John xi.5." New Testament Studies. I (September, 195*0, 29-0. "St. John on Patmos." New Testament Studies. IX (January, 1963), 75-^5. Schlatter, Adolf. Sorache und Hgimat des vierten Bvangelisten. Stuttgart: Calwer vereinsbuch- handlung, 1902. ________. Der Evangelist Johannes. Stuttgart: Calwer vereinsbuchhandlung, 1930. Schmidt. Karl Ludwig. Die Rahmen der Jeschlchte Jesu. Berlin: Trowitzsch & Sohn, 1919. Schmiedel, Paul W. The Johannine Writings. Trans lated by Maurice A. Canney. London: Adam and Charle s Black, 1 908• Schurer, E. A History of the Jewish People in the Time of Jesus Christ. 5 vols. Edinburgh: T . &. f . Clark, 1897-98. Schwartz, Eduard, tfber den Tod der Sflhne Zebedgi. Berlin: Weidmannsche buchhandlung, 190H-. Schweitzer, Albert. The Quest of the Historical Jesus. Translated by William Montgomery.New ; York: Macmillan Company, 1950. __• Paul and Hi3 Interpreters. Translated by William Montgomery.London: Adam and Charles Black, 1950. ________• The Mysticism of Paul the Apostle. Trans lated by William Montgomery.London: Adam and Charles Black, 1953* Schweizer, E. Ego Eimi. GSttingen: Vandenhoeck & . Ruprecht, 1939. 217. 218. 219. 220. 221 . 222. 223. 22l+. 22?. 226. 227. 228. 229. 230. 555 Scott, Ernest Findlay. The Fourth Gospel. Its Pur pose and Theology. 2nd ed. Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1908. The Fourth Gosoel. New York: Houghton JEfFlin Company, T 909. Simon. U. E. "Eternal Life in the Fourth Gospel." Studies in the Fourth Gospel. Edited by F. L. Cross. Lond on: Mowbray, 1957• Smith, C. W. F. "Tabernacles in the Fourth Gospel and in Mark." New Testament Studies. DC (January, 1963), 130-*+6. Smith, D. Moody. The Comp03ition and Order of the Fourth Gosnel. New Haven* Yale University Press, 1 965. . "The Sources of the Gospel of Johns An Assessment of the Present State of the Problem." New Testament Studies. X (April, 1 961 *), 336-51. Sparks, H. F. D. "St. John's Knowledge of Matthew: The Evidence of John 13?16 and 15,20." Journal of Theological Studies. New Series, III (April, 19^2), 58- 61. ________. The Formation of the New Testament. Lond on: oCM Press Ltd., 19^2. Stanton, V. H. The Gospels as Historical Documents. 3 vols. Cambridge: University Press, 1903-09. Stendahl, Krister. The School of Matthew. Uppsala: Gleerup, 195*+. "An Introduction and a Perspective." The Scrolls and the New Testament. Edited by Krister Stendahl.New fork: Harper and Brothers, 1957* Stewart. James. "On a Neglected Element of New Testa ment Theology." Scottish Journal of Theology. IV (September, 19!?1), 292-301. Strachan, R. H. The Fourth Gospel, Its Significance and Environment. 3rd ed. London: SCM Press Ltd., 19*1. ________. The Fourth Evangelist. Dramatist or Histo rian? New York: George H. Doran Company, 1925. 231 . 232. 233. 23^. 23?. 236. 237. 238. 239. 2bO. 2b1 . 2b2. 2b3 . 2Mf. 2h$. 556 Strack, H. L.. and Billerbeck, Paul. Komnentar zum Neuen Testament aus Talmud und Midrasch. 6 vols. Munich: C. R. Beck, 1922-28. Streeter. B. H. The Fourth Gospel. bth ed. London: Macmillan Company, 193°. Strand, Kenneth. "John as Quartodeciman: A Reap praisal." Journal of Biblical Literature. LXXXIV (September, 19^5), 2^1 Tasker, R. V. G. The Gospel According to St. John. Tyndale Commentary. Grand Rapids: Serdraans, 1960. Taylor, Vincent. The Atonement in New Testament Preaching. London: Epworth Press, 19bO. ________ . Forgiveness and Reconciliation. London: Macmi 1 lan Company, 1 9^+1 . r_ . The Gospel According to St. Mark. London: Macmi1lan Company,1953• ________ . "The Life and Ministry of Jesus." The In terpreter* s Bible. Vol. VII. New York: Abingdon Press, 1951. Teeple, Howard M. Review of The Composition and Or der of the Fourth Gospel, bv D. Moody Smith. 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Die Bntstehungsgeschicthte das vierten Evaneeliums.Zollikon: Evangalisehar Verlag, T95^H Willemse, J. nLa Patrie de Jesus selon Saint Jean New Testament Studies. XI (July, 1965), 3^9-6**. Windisch. Hans. Johannes und die Synoptiker. GSttingen: '/andenhoeck & Ruprecht,192o.

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Core Title John And The Synoptics--A Discussion Of Some Of The Differences Between Them

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