Of all the gospel writers, John seems to have the greatest capacity for abstraction. Mark's is the earliest account, fired throughout with action and immediacy. He seems content to begin with Jesus' adult ministry, skipping his birth and other such preludes. Luke the physician is the careful reporter and biographer, and it is from him that we get both the most popular story of Jesus' birth as well as that of John the Baptist. Matthew is obsessed with Jesus' earthly mission to fulfill the Scriptures and gives us the story of the Magi, Herod, and the slaughter of the Innocents--the implication being that Jesus is the new Moses, saved from a new kind of Pharaoh.
Rather than begin with Jesus' ministry on earth, though, or with Jesus' birth as a human, John begins his gospel in Heaven: "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God." It is the most idiosyncratic, literary, and mystical of the four gospels. It is replete with meaning--of interpretation (often given by Christ, "the Word," himself) of every little event or miracle--and yet the interpretations themselves can sound like new riddles: "What does this have to do with me? My hour has not yet come"; "You must be born again"; "I and the Father are one." The stories are arranged in such a way as to be almost sermon illustrations for the teaching of this Word. You would think that someone as mystical and abstract as John would not have much of an eye for narrative detail, but again and again, we get fascinating little descriptions that we don't have in the other gospels: the master of the wedding feast commenting on the custom of serving inferior wine to drunk people; Jesus' cure of the blind man by spitting on dirt to make mud; the phrase "Jesus wept"; the towel he girt around his waist; John himself leaning on Jesus' breast; the folded face-cloth in the tomb; the risen Christ eating a fish. Here is a God breaking out of skies and temples to walk with people, imbuing everyday life with the sacred, or perhaps reminding us of its spiritual nature even as he redeems it.
John likewise reminds us again and again that "the Word became flesh and dwelt among us"; he had (and has) a thoroughly human life. And yet, the humility of Jesus is not, in the end, the point. He is humble--more humble, certainly, than his followers--yet his very lowness serves to manifest his glory among fallen humans: "We have seen his glory, the glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth." John says again and again that Christ brings light into darkness. His humanity does not lower Godhood, but instead raises us to a place where true worship ("in spirit and in truth") is actually possible: "I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God." There is a breathtaking, uncomfortable familiarity here, not only between John and Jesus, but between God and his worshipers. We become something closer than family to the Trinity itself, because we now share Christ's place vis-a-vis the Father. Because he is our kin, we lean on his breast, with John, and receive the Holy Spirit with his breath.
We struggle with this. We usually want a God who is not quite so near. And that is why we have John's writings. They remind us of who we are, of how we are to think of ourselves, and how we are to treat each other. Christ gives John his own relationship with the Father, and John extends that same relationship to us, and yet each time this relationship is extended, it is enriched, so that it encompasses another human soul. And so John reminds us, again and again: "God is love"; "Beloved, let us love one another. For love is of God, and everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God"; "Love one another as I have loved you. So [in this way] you must love one another. By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another"; "Simon, Son of Jonah, do you truly love me more than these? Then feed my lambs" ; "For God so [in this way] loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have everlasting life."
The point of John's gospel--of his life, for that matter--is Christ, not John. This much is clear from the fact that the evangelist does not even name himself throughout the entirety of the book, referring to himself instead as "the disciple whom Jesus loved," or just "the disciple." Despite this, John's is the most distinctive of the four gospels--the most marked with his own personality. It is as though the principle of mutual glorification that exists within the Trinity ("glorify your Son that the Son may glorify you") has been extended through John's friend Jesus to John himself. And indeed it has. We can enjoy John's glory during this day, for it is ultimately God's glory, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.
Rather than begin with Jesus' ministry on earth, though, or with Jesus' birth as a human, John begins his gospel in Heaven: "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God." It is the most idiosyncratic, literary, and mystical of the four gospels. It is replete with meaning--of interpretation (often given by Christ, "the Word," himself) of every little event or miracle--and yet the interpretations themselves can sound like new riddles: "What does this have to do with me? My hour has not yet come"; "You must be born again"; "I and the Father are one." The stories are arranged in such a way as to be almost sermon illustrations for the teaching of this Word. You would think that someone as mystical and abstract as John would not have much of an eye for narrative detail, but again and again, we get fascinating little descriptions that we don't have in the other gospels: the master of the wedding feast commenting on the custom of serving inferior wine to drunk people; Jesus' cure of the blind man by spitting on dirt to make mud; the phrase "Jesus wept"; the towel he girt around his waist; John himself leaning on Jesus' breast; the folded face-cloth in the tomb; the risen Christ eating a fish. Here is a God breaking out of skies and temples to walk with people, imbuing everyday life with the sacred, or perhaps reminding us of its spiritual nature even as he redeems it.
John likewise reminds us again and again that "the Word became flesh and dwelt among us"; he had (and has) a thoroughly human life. And yet, the humility of Jesus is not, in the end, the point. He is humble--more humble, certainly, than his followers--yet his very lowness serves to manifest his glory among fallen humans: "We have seen his glory, the glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth." John says again and again that Christ brings light into darkness. His humanity does not lower Godhood, but instead raises us to a place where true worship ("in spirit and in truth") is actually possible: "I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God." There is a breathtaking, uncomfortable familiarity here, not only between John and Jesus, but between God and his worshipers. We become something closer than family to the Trinity itself, because we now share Christ's place vis-a-vis the Father. Because he is our kin, we lean on his breast, with John, and receive the Holy Spirit with his breath.
We struggle with this. We usually want a God who is not quite so near. And that is why we have John's writings. They remind us of who we are, of how we are to think of ourselves, and how we are to treat each other. Christ gives John his own relationship with the Father, and John extends that same relationship to us, and yet each time this relationship is extended, it is enriched, so that it encompasses another human soul. And so John reminds us, again and again: "God is love"; "Beloved, let us love one another. For love is of God, and everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God"; "Love one another as I have loved you. So [in this way] you must love one another. By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another"; "Simon, Son of Jonah, do you truly love me more than these? Then feed my lambs" ; "For God so [in this way] loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have everlasting life."
The point of John's gospel--of his life, for that matter--is Christ, not John. This much is clear from the fact that the evangelist does not even name himself throughout the entirety of the book, referring to himself instead as "the disciple whom Jesus loved," or just "the disciple." Despite this, John's is the most distinctive of the four gospels--the most marked with his own personality. It is as though the principle of mutual glorification that exists within the Trinity ("glorify your Son that the Son may glorify you") has been extended through John's friend Jesus to John himself. And indeed it has. We can enjoy John's glory during this day, for it is ultimately God's glory, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.
