Text Study for John 10:22-42 (Part Five)

My Aland, et al, Third Edition of The Greek New Testament entitles John 10:22-42 as “Jesus Rejected by the Jews.” On the face of it, that’s an unhelpful superscription for us as Western Christians who live after the Nazi Holocaust. Because of the consistent and direct work and testimony of Amy-Jill Levine, among others, I find myself more and more aware of the casual anti-Judaism that creeps into sermons and Bible studies – mine included – unless we Christians pay particular attention to straining out such prejudicial and dangerous language.

The reading from John 10:22-42 is another Johannine lection which can easily lead us dominant-culture Christians into the kind of casual and unexamined anti-Judaism which sustains a discourse of contempt toward Jews. In the reading, Jesus is surrounded by a hostile group of Jerusalem religious authorities, labelled in the text as “the Jews.” That same group then, in verse thirty-one, takes up stones to punish Jesus for what they hear as his blasphemous self-identification with the God of Israel.

The labelling continues in verse 33 and in verse 39, although it is a pronoun in that latter verse. A casual reading by a lector or preacher can leave those hostile references hanging in the air without question. Given the ongoing and obvious anti-Jewish bent that has resurfaced in American culture, such a casual reading left without comment will, I fear, reinforce such unquestioned anti-Jewish assumptions and interpretations.

It may be that nearly every sermon based on a Johannine text must be accompanied by a clear disclaimer to dislodge such unquestioned assumptions. I think that is the least we as Christian preachers can do in such a time as ours. The introduction to Paul Anderson’s article makes a number of points that should be in such a disclaimer. “While it is a tragic fact that the Gospel of John has contributed to anti-Semitism and religious violence during some chapters of Christian history,” Anderson begins, “John is not anti-Semitic” (page 1).

Anderson points to a number of pieces of evidence to make the case. The Johannine author was clearly Jewish, as was Jesus. The first audience for the account was Jewish. The purpose of the Gospel of John was to demonstrate that the Jewish Messiah is Jesus. That Jesus, in the Johannine account, says that salvation is “of the Jews.” The “I am” sayings in the Johannine account would only make sense to and have an impact on Jewish listeners and readers.

It is, of course, the case, Anderson acknowledges, that “the Jews” serve sometimes in the Johannine account as stand-ins for the unbelieving world. As in the case of our text, they are “portrayed as primary adversaries of Jesus and his followers despite the fact that some are also presented as coming to faith in Jesus” (page 1). “The Jews” sometimes represent a group geographically distinct from “the Galileans.” They also sometimes represent the religious leaders in Jerusalem or in the countryside who oppose Jesus and his movement.

“The main problem is with interpreting John wrongly or with allowing flawed interpretations to stand,” Anderson writes. “When read correctly,” he continues, “the Fourth Gospel not only ceases to be a source of religious acrimony; it points the way forward for all seekers of truth to sojourn together, across boundaries of religious movements, time, and space” (page 1). I’m not sure I’ve portrayed that understanding of “the Jews” in the Johannine account very often in my preaching and teaching.

I continue to wonder if we post-Holocaust Christians can responsibly read the Johannine account out loud in settings of public worship. In speaking of both the Matthean and Johannine accounts, Anderson notes, “One’s first reaction might thus favor banning these or other religious documents from the marketplace of ideas altogether. Censorship, however,” Anderson continues, “would produce a new set of prejudicial disasters, as inquisitions and book-burning schemes always create more problems than they solve” (page 3).

That being said, Anderson pursues the question of whether there is anti-Judaism native to the Johannine text or if the fault resides completely with bad interpretations based on flawed readings of the text. He argues for the latter option. “The thesis of this essay,” he declares, “is that while John has played a role in anti-Semitism and religious violence, such influences represent a distortion of this thoroughly Jewish piece of writing, which actually provides ways forward for all seekers of truth and inclusivity if interpreted adequately” (page 3).

Some interpreters would use the Johannine document to make the case for Christian supersessionism. Anderson argues that the real agenda in the Gospel is not to challenge Judaism but rather to challenge all human attempts to manage God on our terms. The Johannine account does give voice to some regional tensions between northern “charisma-oriented” Judaism and southern “cult-oriented” Judaism in the first century. Seeing “the Jews” in John as the religious authorities thus has some legitimacy but is not the whole story. And the Johannine account may also reflect later struggles in the synagogues as Christians found themselves less and less in sync with ongoing developments in Judaism.

None of these perspectives is adequate by itself to account for the rhetoric in the Johannine account. Nor is it sufficient to see “the Jews” in John as merely stand-ins for any and all who might resist the message and person of Jesus. Such an abstraction takes the “flesh” out of the “Word made flesh” which arrives in a specific historic context. Some would see the Johannine Jesus as “pro-Jewish” rather than anti-Jewish, seeking to reach “his own” (see John 1) with the gift of abundant life.

“Adequate interpretation of John and Judaism would thus involve a synthesis of multiple factors,” Anderson argues, “and it is likely that at different stages of its development the Johannine tradition possessed distinctive approaches to the Ioudaioi in the Johannine situation” (page 7).

Anderson concludes that it is most accurate and helpful to see the negative references to “the Jews” in the Johannine account as “almost exclusively confined to particular Judean religious authorities who engage Jesus pointedly in adversarial ways” (page 32). That would certainly be the appropriate interpretation for the labels applied in John 10:22-42.

Anderson notes the accusation the authorities make that Jesus is a demon-possessed blasphemer who should be executed. This exchange should not be seen as either anti-Jewish or anti-Christian. Those labels are anachronistic and don’t represent the situation “on the ground.” Instead, “John’s story of Jesus – in tension with Judean authorities, some of whom indeed believe in Jesus – must be seen as an intra-Jewish set of engagements. Just as John’s narrative cannot be used as a basis for violence,” Anderson notes, “nor can it be read responsibly as advocating any form of anti-Semitism. It is radically Jewish in its self-understanding,” he continues, “even if that inference is contested” (page 32).

The Johannine account does, however “challenge religious and political bastions of power and authority,” Anderson argues, both in the first-century context and well beyond that Judean and imperial Roman context. This is, he urges, the real interpretive context for preaching and teaching on the Gospel of John. In the Johannine account, Jesus does not overturn Jewish religious structures and forms merely to replace them with Christian religious structures and forms. This is neither supersessionism nor triumphalism. Anderson asserts that “the Johannine Jesus challenges not only Jewish dogmatism and religiosity, but it also challenges Christian instantiations of the same” (page 33). This means, he declares, that the Johannine account is a source of universal inclusivism, not parochial exclusivism.

All that being said, Anderson wonders what we are to do with the anti-Semitism and religious violence that claim to find their justifications in the Johannine account? First, we must let the Johannine account be what it is – an intra-Jewish debate that seeks to fulfill Israel’s vocation rather than subvert or supersede it.

“It is not Jewish religion proper that the saving/revealing initiative of Jesus as God’s agent in John confounds,” Anderson declares, “it scandalizes all that is of creaturely origin, including the religious platforms and scaffolding of Christianity, political and social empires, and even irreligion as a human construct. The reader is thus invited to be a seeker of truth,” he continues, “and such is the means of liberation, the character of authority, and the center of our common commitments” (page 34).

What does this mean for the preaching of the text at hand? I think it means a bit of time spent on a disclaimer rejecting any anti-Jewish interpretation of our text. It also means reminding our listeners that Scripture is much more of a mirror than it is a snapshot of the past or a window into another world. Especially when we read this text, or any text, as people with power, privilege, position, and property, we need to see that we are more often than not in opposition to Jesus and his movement.

When we allow scripture to perform that diagnostic function for us, we stand a better chance of reading accurately and in ways that are not deadly to others. And we stand a better chance of trusting that the Messiah is Jesus and that in that trust we can have life in his name.

References and Resources

Anderson, Paul N., “Anti-Semitism and Religious Violence as Flawed Interpretations of the Gospel of John” (2017). Faculty Publications – College of Christian Studies. 289. https://digitalcommons.georgefox.edu/ccs/289

DENNERT, BRIAN C. “Hanukkah and the Testimony of Jesus’ Works (John 10:22—39).” Journal of Biblical Literature 132, no. 2 (2013): 431–51. https://doi.org/10.2307/23488021.

Janssen, J. and Hartley, J. “Psalm 82 and the Trial Motif in John 10.” https://www.academia.edu/download/44574210/Psalm82_and_the_Trial_Motif_in_John_10_-_James_Janssen_2010-12-19.pdf.

Johnson, Elisabeth. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fourth-sunday-of-easter-3/commentary-on-john-1022-30-5.

Lewis, Karoline M. John (Fortress Biblical Preaching Commentaries). Fortress Press. Kindle Edition.

Malina, Bruce, and Rohrbaugh, Richard. Social Science Commentary on the Gospel of John. Fortress Press, 1998.

Manning, Brennan. Ruthless Trust. HarperCollins, 2000.

O’Day, Gail R.; Hylen, Susan E. John (Westminster Bible Companion). Presbyterian Publishing Corporation. Kindle Edition.

Wallace, Daniel. Greek Grammar Beyond the Basics. Zondervan, 1996.

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Text Study for John 10:22-42 (Part Four)

The more I read Sunday’s text, the more I think it is critical to take John 10:31-42 into account, at least in our preaching if not in our reading. Jesus’ opponents surround Jesus and press him for a public declaration. This sort of encirclement usually happens on the basis of hostile intent, at least according to regular usage in ancient Greek. As we see later in the text, this is a group that is itching to pick up rocks and start throwing.

This exchange has much more the flavor of a trial than of a rabbinic debate. In fact, some commentators describe it as precisely that – a preview of the trial that is to come during Holy Week. That image is important to keep in mind when we think in a few moments about the particular scripture verse Jesus quotes (or that the Johannine author places on his lips – that’s not critical to the thinking here). Psalm 82 also depicts a trial scene, so there’s something going on that’s worth noticing.

This encounter takes place in “Solomon’s Stoa” – a portico on the east side of the Temple complex. Of course, this was not the actual structure built by Solomon nine centuries earlier. That temple had been destroyed. The current structure was probably founded on some foundation stones remaining from the (an?) earlier structure, but it was part of the new facility still being built by King Herod and his successors. That being said, this part of the complex was associated with judgments rendered by the king – that is, in the context of controversies and trials.

The details of the text, which have been apparent to the first listeners and readers interacting with the Johannine account, lead us to imagine this as a trial and judgment scene. One of the ironic questions which I believe the Johannine author wants to pose is this. Who is really on trial? And what is at stake in the outcome of this confrontation, beyond Jesus’ physical safety? It is clear that Jesus’ opponents seek to put him on trial and demand his testimony. But I think the outcome is that Jesus puts them on trial and finds them wanting.

The quote from Psalm 82:6, in John 10:34, is yet another example of the “little text, big context” rule of interpretation. On one level, Jesus uses the language of that verse to turn the argument against him on its head. On another level, I think that Jesus (or at least the Johannine author) wants listeners and readers to imagine the setting and argument of the entire Psalm as we seek to interpret and respond to the story we have before us.

James Jansen examines this text through the lens of the trial motif in the Johannine account. “If the major theme of John is the question of the identity of Jesus,” Jansen argues, “then forensic exchange in response to the signs and words of Jesus would appear to be the primary method deployed by John to expose the truth regarding Jesus’ person and purpose” (page 2). We know from the Johannine statement of purpose in John 20:30-31 that a true understanding of Jesus’ identity as Messiah and Son of God is precisely the primary Johannine purpose.

Repeatedly in the Johannine account, Jesus’ assertions about his own identity are put to the test. But that trial is always reversed. The forensic lens is focused on the supposed questioner. For example, Nicodemus comes to Jesus and wants some certification of Jesus’ identity to legitimate the signs he does. It takes just a few lines, however, for the test to become one of Nicodemus’ willingness to be born anew and to see God’s work in a new worldview. I would suggest a similar reversal takes place in the second half of John 10.

I want to quote Jansen in this regard, as he summarizes the work of Lincoln in Truth on Trial. There is a “surface trial” where the Jewish authorities position themselves as plaintiff and judge. Jesus is therefore the defendant. “But the second level situation sets Jesus as both chief witness and judge of a cosmic trial where He,” Jansen writes, “as God’s authoritative representative, stands against all those who d not receive the truthful witness of His signs and words” (page 3).

What is at stake in this proceeding is, I think, the place of the sheep in the arms of the Good Shepherd. We might well focus on a variety of characteristics of the Good Shepherd. The Good Shepherd leads the sheep rather than drives them. The Good Shepherd knows the sheep by name and calls them. The Good Shepherd walks with the sheep and will not abandon them. The Good Shepherd lays down the Shepherd’s life for the sheep.

It is this last feature that I think is highlighted in our text for Sunday – that the Shepherd advocates for, defends from attackers, and fights for the flock. As part of that work of flock defense, the Good Shepherd calls to account those who should also be fighting for the well-being of the members of the flock. This is where some reflection on Psalm 82 is perhaps helpful.

Psalm 82 is a trial scene. The God of Israel stands in the midst of the Divine Council. This is a fairly typical image in the Old Testament and reflects the assumptions of the ancient Israelites regarding the reality of other gods. It’s easy to get lost in the weeds on that one, but the archaeological and ethnological details are not critical at this point. What does matter is that the God of Israel is encircled by figures who are charged with maintaining the well-being of the weak and the orphan, the lowly and the destitute, the weak and the needy (see Psalm 82:3-4).

Scholars debate the identity of those “gods” who find themselves on trial here. That identity is not so much to the point as is their responsibility. The verdict is clear. They have judged unjustly and shown partiality to the wicked (verse 2). The wicked are in contrast to those classes of people who need protection, listed in verses three and four. Thus, the wicked are the powerful, the well-positioned, and the rich – those who make up the privileged establishment.

These rulers have been placed in the position of “gods” by God – in the place where they have the power of life and death over others. They have been given the role of children of God – called to care for those for whom God cares. And they have failed in their responsibilities. Thus, these kings will lose their exalted positions and will die like mortals, will fall from their thrones like any human prince (Psalm 82:7).

The Psalmist calls this scene to mind imploring God to judge the earth – which is clearly ruled by kings who have failed in their responsibilities. Come and advocate for us, O God, the Psalmist seems to pray. Fight for us in the divine council and call these failed rulers to account for their wickedness! I think that Jesus calls this setting into the imagination of his opponents, and the Johannine author calls the setting into the imaginations of us as listeners and readers. Therefore, it seems to me that it is critical to understanding the scene we have in John 10:22-30.

Jesus, the Good Shepherd, fights for the well-being of the flock. Jesus advocates for the well-being of the flock in the midst of those who have failed in their responsibilities for those who need such tender care. I want to be careful and note that this is not an anti-Jewish reading of the text. This is a reading against any and all members of any religious establishment who put personal power, privilege, position, and property ahead of the needs of God’s flock. Jesus’ opponents find themselves on trial in the same way that the members of the divine council did in Psalm 82.

I hear tremendously good news in this reading of the text. Jesus advocates, argues, and fights for me when I cannot do so for myself. Especially at those times when I am beaten into submission by the realities of life and loss, I can and do pray with the Psalmist for God – for Jesus, who is one with the Father – to rise up and advocate for me. I am comforted, encouraged, and energized by the image of Jesus in the center of the courtroom (or the ring) doing battle for me against the forces that would seek to hold me in bondage.

I don’t see Jesus, however, as the sort of hyper-masculine conqueror that so many American Christians seem to desire today. Instead, the One who fights for me uses the weapons of love and tenderness, of peace and justice, of compassion and self-giving. The Good Shepherd will not use the tools of the Evil One to defeat the Evil One. That would simply exchange one self-serving tyrant for another.

In the Easter season, we Christians confess that God does indeed “rise up” (again see Psalm 82:8) to confront and defeat the forces of sin, death, and evil. God will not permit anyone to rip the beloved from the arms of the Good Shepherd – not even that unholy triad.

Those who are committed to any religious establishment that puts personal power, privilege, position, and property ahead of the needs of God’s flock have chosen to trust in someone or something other than Jesus. That’s not predestination or fatalism. That is a choice that has been made, a choice that refuses to protect God’s flock. Those who make such a choice in Christian communities today stand in the same adversarial position with Jesus as did those in Solomon’s portico with their stones stacked at the ready.

While I’m not sure that all of this exegetical detail is useful for preaching, I do think it gives a clear indication of the center of the text – that Jesus not only holds us close but fights to hang onto us in the face of threat and danger. And I think it’s an invitation to hold one another tightly as well in this time when so much seeks to tear us apart.

References and Resources

DENNERT, BRIAN C. “Hanukkah and the Testimony of Jesus’ Works (John 10:22—39).” Journal of Biblical Literature 132, no. 2 (2013): 431–51. https://doi.org/10.2307/23488021.

Janssen, J. and Hartley, J. “Psalm 82 and the Trial Motif in John 10.” https://www.academia.edu/download/44574210/Psalm82_and_the_Trial_Motif_in_John_10_-_James_Janssen_2010-12-19.pdf.

Johnson, Elisabeth. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fourth-sunday-of-easter-3/commentary-on-john-1022-30-5.

Lewis, Karoline M. John (Fortress Biblical Preaching Commentaries). Fortress Press. Kindle Edition.

Malina, Bruce, and Rohrbaugh, Richard. Social Science Commentary on the Gospel of John. Fortress Press, 1998.

Manning, Brennan. Ruthless Trust. HarperCollins, 2000.

O’Day, Gail R.; Hylen, Susan E. John (Westminster Bible Companion). Presbyterian Publishing Corporation. Kindle Edition.

Wallace, Daniel. Greek Grammar Beyond the Basics. Zondervan, 1996.

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Text Study for John 10:22-42 (Part Three)

It’s clear from our text that the report in John 10:22-39 is set during Hannukah, the Feast of Lights. You will recall that this Festival commemorates and celebrates the restoration of the Jerusalem Temple, and especially of the altar, after the facility was commandeered and intentionally desecrated by the Greek colonial ruler, Antiochus Epiphanes IV. These events took place from about 168-165 BCE and are recorded in various fashions in both I Maccabees and II Maccabees.

With our text, the Johannine author has set Jesus’ confrontations with his opponents in the framework of each of the three great Jewish festivals. The connections between the Passover (Pesach) and the Exodus journey are obvious in John 6, the Bread of Life discourse.

Hanukkah Menorah by Jewish is licensed under CC-BY 3.0

The Feast of Booths (Sukkoth), which we Christians may know loosely as Pentecost, takes its place in John 7-8. The focus there is on the “living water” made available during the wilderness wanderings of the Hebrews and the ways in which Jesus fills out that sign of God’s grace.

While the Feast of Lights (or Rededication) is not directly mentioned until John 10:22, there is good reason to think that it is the framework for John 9-10 inclusive. I noted in a previous post that there could be a gap of a couple of months between John 10:21 and John 10:22. That is only the case if we assume that the Sukkoth framing in the Johannine account runs from John 7 through John 10:21. In light of additional reading and research, I am rethinking that idea.

If you would permit me to digress for a moment. One of the reasons I do this regular reading, reflecting, and writing is to explore, curate, and describe additional resources, materials, and perspectives to assist the actual “working preachers” (to shamelessly pilfer a phrase) who are out there on the homiletical front lines week in and week out.

Another of the reasons for my efforts is for my own edification and growth. I often discover what I think by writing it down. And I sometimes discover that my mind has changed, even during the course of a week. I hope it’s useful for you to observe this inner dialogue and debate. And I trust that it’s not too distracting from the task at hand.

Brian Dennert explores the usage of Hannukah imagery in our text and its implications for interpretation. He argues “that the discussion of Jesus’ works in this discourse [John 10:22-39] reflects the tendency to associate miracles with Hannukah in order to promote its observance” (page 451). Dennert tracks the trajectory of that association with miracles in Jewish documents from the centuries before the writing of the Johannine account to those after. The Johannine emphasis is consistent with and serves as a part of that miracle-emphasizing trajectory.

He concludes, “The proposed connection between Hannukah and miracles points to the discourse of John 10:22-39 operating as a defense of Jesus’ identity as the Son of God rather than as an argument that Jesus ‘fulfills’ or ‘replaces’ Hannukah” (page 451). The argument being made in the discourse, according to Dennert, is that the Jews accept miracles as grounds for establishing the legitimacy of the Hannukah observance. By contrast, they reject Jesus “in spite of his great miracles, which testify to his identity as the Messiah and Son of God” (page 451).

Even a superficial reading of this part of John 10 should make it clear that the emphasis here is on the “works” of Jesus as the grounds for establishing his legitimacy as Messiah and Son of God. Even if his opponents can’t put their faith in Jesus himself, they have precedent for giving their loyalty and trust to someone or some event based on the miracles attached with that entity. Jesus’ works, as Dennert notes, are what allow Jesus to be able to make and sustain his claims (page 448).

This framework helps us to make sense, then, of the contrast between Jesus and John in our text. The discourse notes that John didn’t do any signs – not a single one (see John 10:40-42). Jesus, on the other hand, did a great number of good works. John testified to Jesus as the Lamb of God. Jesus did the works that themselves testify to his identity as the Son of God. Dennert reminds us of Jesus’ assertion in John 9:3 that the man’s blindness was not a punishment from God but rather that “the works of God might be revealed in him” (my translation).

“The emphasis on ‘works’ in John 10:22-39 and its surrounding context,” Dennert writes, “thus corresponds to the appearance of miracles in discussions surrounding Hannukah. The discourse also features,” he continues, “a similar line of argumentation, as the miracles of Hannukah justify the feast and the works of Jesus prove his identity” (page 448-449). In addition, the connection makes it more likely that the setting for the healing of the man born blind is Hannukah and not Sukkoth. This brings a different resonance to the “Light of the World” elements of John 9.

Jesus’ opponents want to separate his works from his offensive claim that he and the Father are “one.” When Jesus asks them which of his good works is the source of the trouble, they note that the works are not the problem. Instead, the problem is Jesus’ claim of equality with God. But they can’t have the works without what the works signify. “They desire to stone him not for the good works, in their eyes, the signs that Jesus has performed,” Karoline Lewis writes, “but for making himself God, which is exactly what the signs indicate” (page 148).

The signs which Jesus performs in John 9 and 10 are those signs which are central to the Hannukah observance. Jesus gives light and life. He opens the eyes of the man born blind. And he comes that his sheep may have life and have it in abundance (John 10:10). Either he delivers on these gifts, or he is a fraud and a blasphemer. If he gives light and life, he is doing the work of God for the sake of the world. He is, thus, “one” with God.

All right – so what do we do with this hermeneutically and homiletically? Here we are on the fourth of the seven Sundays of the Easter season. The lectionary reminds us that the shine is already wearing off the Resurrection penny. The trumpets are distant echoes. The lily blossoms have faded and fallen (although some of us may have dug in our plants in hopes for future blooms). The festal crowds have dwindled back to the faithful few. It seems that nothing much has changed.

Putting our faith in Jesus as the Messiah, the Son of God, day in and day out is hard. At least it’s hard for me. It doesn’t come naturally for me. Nor does it have its own staying power. I suppose that’s one of the reasons why I have to keep hammering away at these texts day in and day out. Without this deep exposure to and nurture by the Living Word of God, the trumpets and lilies of my faith disappear into the darkness.

“The ubiquitous presence of pain and suffering – unwanted, apparently undeserved, and not amenable to explanation or remedy – poses an enormous obstacle to unfailing trust in the infinite goodness of God,” writes Brennan Manning in Ruthless Trust. “How does one dare,” Manning asks, “to propose the way of trust in the face of raw, undifferentiated heartache, cosmic disorder, and the terror of history?” (page 39). Manning asks a particularly apt question in this moment of political insanity, wars of aggression, pandemic pandemonium (no matter what the news tells us), and social upheaval.

Jesus invites us to look again and again at his “works,” if we cannot bear to look at him. But those works are him – the Word made flesh and dwelling among us, full of grace and truth; the crucified God who stands up to give live to a world that is always perishing, the Good Shepherd who will not permit even one of his own (and all of us are his own) to be snatched out of his loving embrace. These works are worth the attention because they are the very works of God.

“Faith arises from the personal experience of Jesus as Lord,” Manning writes. “Hope is reliance on the promise of Jesus, accompanied by the expectation of fulfillment. Trust,” he continues, “is the winsome wedding of faith and hope” (page 86). This trust is the believing about which the Johannine author writes over and over in his gospel account. “For me and many others,” Manning declares, “Jesus is the revelation of the only God worthy of trust” (page 89).

Maybe this is the thing today. Jesus’ opponents had the works and wanted them without Jesus. I have Jesus, but I’m not so sure these days that I have much in the way of his “works.” But that can’t be right. If I put myself in the arms of the loving Good Shepherd, I will see the works of the Father where others might only see darkness and destruction. And if I have that vision, I must then testify to the works.

Things look dark and deadly in many ways, but our God has not ceased to give light and life to the world. Easter isn’t over. It’s just beginning.

References and Resources

DENNERT, BRIAN C. “Hanukkah and the Testimony of Jesus’ Works (John 10:22—39).” Journal of Biblical Literature 132, no. 2 (2013): 431–51. https://doi.org/10.2307/23488021.

Johnson, Elisabeth. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fourth-sunday-of-easter-3/commentary-on-john-1022-30-5.

Lewis, Karoline M. John (Fortress Biblical Preaching Commentaries). Fortress Press. Kindle Edition.

Malina, Bruce, and Rohrbaugh, Richard. Social Science Commentary on the Gospel of John. Fortress Press, 1998.

Manning, Brennan. Ruthless Trust. HarperCollins, 2000.

O’Day, Gail R.; Hylen, Susan E. John (Westminster Bible Companion). Presbyterian Publishing Corporation. Kindle Edition.

Wallace, Daniel. Greek Grammar Beyond the Basics. Zondervan, 1996.

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Text Study for John 10: 22-42 (Part Two)

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The gospel text for this Sunday is placed between two notices that Jesus is causing debate and division among “the Jews.” In John 10:19-21, Jesus’ Judean listeners are torn (the word for “division” is the Greek word “schisma”) by his claim that he has the power to lay down his life and to take it up again (John 10:18). This power over death and life is and should be reserved for God.

Jesus makes an audacious and potentially blasphemous claim, and it stirs up controversy once again. The Johannine author makes a point of reminding the reader that this is not the first such division and confrontation in the story. Malina and Rohrbaugh remind us that such divisions have taken place at John 7:12, 25-27, 40-41, and 9:16 (page 183). This has been a debate building toward a boiling over.

On the one side of the debate were those who declared that Jesus was demon-possessed and therefore mentally unstable. Malina and Rohrbaugh describe this sort of charge as “Deviance Labeling.” They write that in ancient Mediterranean society, people were not known as unique individuals. Rather, people were known by the categories into which they might be placed by others – place of origin, residence, family, gender, age, and stereotypical features assumed by the larger culture.

Identity was not something an individual created or claimed. Instead, “One’s identity was always the stereotyped identity of the group,” Malina and Rohrbaugh argue. “This meant that the social information considered important,” they continue, “was encoded in labels such groups acquired” (page 149). These stereotypes could be positive or negative. The stereotypical accusation of demon possession was a negative assessment of the character of an individual.

“Negative labeling,” Malina and Rohrbaugh note, “what anthropologists call ‘deviance accusations,’ could, if made to stick, seriously undermine a person’s place and role in the community” (page 150). When the Judeans accused Jesus of being possessed by a demon, they sought to undercut his authority and destroy his reputation.

“Such labels not only marked one as deviant (outside accepted norms or states”, Malina and Rohrbaugh observe, “but once acquired could be nearly impossible to shake” (page 150). They note that if the charge could be fixed to Jesus in the opinion of the community, Jesus’ honor would be destroyed, and he would be ostracized from that community (page 183).

This isn’t the first time in the Johannine account that Jesus’ opponents seek to label him as a demon-possessed deviant (see, for example, John 8:49ff.). When Jesus is confronted by this accusation, he points to the work he is doing. He notes that it is “good” (noble, honorable) work. He appeals to God’s word for support and legitimacy. And he turns the accusation back on his accusers. “In this way,” Malina and Rohrbaugh suggest, “Jesus rejects the deviance label his opponents are trying to pin on him, and the crowd (or the reader of the story) must judge if the label has been made to stick (page 150).

“In antiquity all persons who acted contrary to the expectations of their inherited social status or role,” Malina and Rohrbaugh note, “were suspect and had to be evaluated” (pages 185-186). Jesus had claimed to lay down his life and pick it up again on his own power and authority. But only God (or a demon) could do such things in the ancient Mediterranean view. Therefore, either Jesus was acting on God’s behalf, or he was in the thrall of demonic forces.

This is the debate in John 10:19-21. If Jesus is demon-possessed and mentally unstable, how can he do the things that he does? How, in particular, can such a person open the eyes of the man who was born blind? In the ancient Mediterranean worldview, such a combination of a demon and a healing verges on the impossible.

This is the debate that leads into our text for Sunday. Perhaps this was a debate that raged in the community over a period of months rather than moments. After all, the Johannine author takes us from the Feast of Booths in the fall to the Feast of Dedication in the winter.

The debate had, perhaps, come to a head by this time. As Jesus walked in Solomon’s Porch to escape the cold wind and rain from the west, he was surrounded by opponents. The word which the NRSV translates as “gathered around” in John 10:24 has a much more threatening tone and import. It is the Greek verb “kuklo,” which means to encircle or surround in order to restrict or even to capture. This is not a gathering of students or even a curious crowd. This scene has the makings of a lynching.

“The question posed in this section,” Malina and Rohrbaugh write, “is whether Jesus is or is not the Messiah” (page 184). As readers of the Johannine account, we know the answer to that question. In fact, the very purpose of the gospel, as described in John 20:30-31, is to show that the Messiah, the Son of God, is Jesus. It is putting our faith in Jesus as the Messiah and Son of God that gives us “life in his name.”

Jesus has not answered his opponents “plainly” on this matter. That is, he has not declared himself publicly, for all to see and hear. He has not staked his honor on the answer. This uncertainty and ambiguity are taking a toll on the Jews who are surrounding him. The NRSV translates their complaint as, “How long will you keep us in suspense?” But that may not be the most helpful or accurate translation of that complaint.

The Greek construction is difficult to render in a way that makes sense. As Malina and Rohrbaugh note, the literal translation would be something like, “How long are you taking our life?” The word for “life” here is “psyche,” which is a different word than Jesus will use in talking about “eternal life” in verse 28. Ancient evidence for the NRSV translation, Malina and Rohrbaugh observe, “is scarce” (page 184).

They do note that in modern Greek the idiom means something like “to provoke us.” That would certainly make more sense of the conversation and its threatening nature. How much longer are you going to stir up trouble, Jesus, with your “will he, won’t he” strategy and tactics? Let’s get this out in the open so we can be done with it one way or another!

“It should be noted,” Malina and Rohrbaugh remind us, “that questions posed in public are always an honor challenge” (page 185). This is a very public honor challenge in the midst of a crowd primed and ready for violence. We see that preparation for violence in the follow-up to our appointed reading, where the encircling crowd pick up stones in order to kill Jesus for giving what they consider to be the “wrong” answer.

Those who have surrounded Jesus for this showdown on Solomon’s Porch demand to know why he keeps the Judean populace stirred up with his veiled claims of oneness with God. “Jesus’ riposte to this challenge,” Malina and Rohrbaugh state, “is to avoid any direct answer to the question” (page 186). Instead, he urges them to look at what he’s doing if they want evidence. The reason they can’t accept the evidence of their own senses and experience, Jesus argues, is because they are not “of Jesus’ sheep” (John 10:26). This is the argument that takes us back to the metaphor of Jesus as the Good Shepherd, contained in John 10:11-18. That metaphor shows an intimate connection between Jesus and the Father, and between Jesus and the flock.

The punch line that describes this intimacy is in John 10:30 – “I and the Father,” Jesus says, “we are one” (my translation). In response, Jesus’ opponents pick up stones again. In this description, Malina and Rohrbaugh argue, Jesus “is speaking of the close, interpersonal relationship of loyalty and trust that John consistently claims exists between himself, God, and his followers” (page 187). His opponents regard such an overt statement of identity (even though it is functional here and not ontological) as a blasphemous claim that no human being can make without suffering the consequences.

Malina and Rohrbaugh note, however, that “the overquick resort to violence in a challenge-response situation was not only dangerous, it was frequently an unintended public admission of failure in the game of wits” (page 191). When one is losing an argument, a violent and bullying response may silence the opponent. But it may also indicate that one’s opponent was right and couldn’t be allowed to continue to speak.

Jesus has “insulted” the crowd, Malina and Rohrbaugh suggest, perhaps by noting that they are outsiders (not of Jesus’ sheep), rather than insiders. As a result, they seek to silence him. “Their resort to violence,” Malina and Rohrbaugh continue, “is a tacit admission that their tactics have failed. Their resort to violence,” the authors conclude, “indicates that Jesus has won the exchange” (page 191). These stories of violence, culminating in the Crucifixion, would make it clear to ancient listeners that Jesus was the honorable victor in the exchange.

The stage is now set for the penultimate sign in the Johannine account – Jesus’ unwillingness to lose Lazarus and his preview of his power over Death itself. Whether any of today’s post makes it into the body of one’s sermon for Sunday, I think it is important to have the proper framing for our text and not to wedge it into the box of the first half of John 10 simply because it’s “Good Shepherd Sunday.”

References and Resources

Johnson, Elisabeth. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fourth-sunday-of-easter-3/commentary-on-john-1022-30-5.

Lewis, Karoline M. John (Fortress Biblical Preaching Commentaries). Fortress Press. Kindle Edition.

Malina, Bruce, and Rohrbaugh, Richard. Social Science Commentary on the Gospel of John. Fortress Press, 1998.

O’Day, Gail R.; Hylen, Susan E. John (Westminster Bible Companion). Presbyterian Publishing Corporation. Kindle Edition.

Wallace, Daniel. Greek Grammar Beyond the Basics. Zondervan, 1996.

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Text Study for John 10:22-42 (Part One)

For those of us who follow the Revised Common Lectionary (RCL) and its predecessors, the Fourth Sunday of the Easter season is always “Good Shepherd Sunday.” This Sunday in the calendar takes on the status of an unofficial mini-festival, at least for lectionary preachers. The appointed Psalm is always Psalm 23. The gospel text is always a section of John 10 – verses 1-10 in year A, verses 11-18 in year B, and verses 22-30 in year C. The common image in all three of these readings is Jesus as the “Good” (or “Noble, at least if one is working with an honor/shame hermeneutic) Shepherd.

Since Good Shepherd Sunday functions as this unofficial mini-festival at the midpoint of the Easter season, we need to ask the homiletical question we pose at every festival. Shall we “preach the day,” or shall we “preach the text”? If you follow my blog, you know that I always prefer preaching the text. That will lend itself to some allusions to the day. But we can “observe the day” in other ways during our worship as well –through other liturgical texts, decorations, commemorations, rituals, etc.

The preaching problem is compounded somewhat by the fact that our text for Year C is not really in a direct narrative chain with the texts in the other two years. As Karoline Lewis and others remind us, the narrative from John 9:1-10:21 is a set piece. The healing of the blind man in John 9 is the sign that receives its explication and explanation in John 10.

Our text for year C happens two months later on the calendar of Jewish feasts. If it is related to anything, it really looks ahead to the Raising of Lazarus in John 11. John 10:22-30 serves as the bridge and transition from the healing of the blind man to the raising at Bethany. The text takes themes from the previous section and uses them as preparation and scaffolding for the next section. In fact, it is the raising of Lazarus that makes good on the promise that no one shall ever snatch one of the sheep out of Jesus’ (and the Father’s) hand.

Not even death can steal one of the sheep for which the Good Shepherd gives his life. “The focus here,” Lewis writes, “that no one will snatch them out of Jesus’ hand, that they will never perish, can also be viewed through the lens of the last sign that follows, the raising of Lazarus. Not even death will be able to separate the shepherd from his sheep,” Lewis continues, “That they will never perish is made abundantly clear in chapter 11.”

The allusions to the Raising of Lazarus continue. As we know from earlier in John 10, the sheep hear the voice of the Good Shepherd and respond by following that voice. Here we note that it is only by hearing the voice of the Good Shepherd that the sheep are able to put their faith in him and to have life.

Remember some of the details of the raising of Lazarus. Jesus calls out to him with “a great voice” (see John 11:43, my translation), ‘Lazarus, come out!’” Lazarus hears the voice of the Good Shepherd. The result is that Lazarus has “life” and is so closely identified with Jesus that his life is soon also in danger.

Our text, therefore, is an Easter text, par excellence. Yes, we have moved “backward” in the Johannine narrative. But “forward” and “backward” are somewhat arbitrary distinctions when we interact with the Johannine account. The themes and images of the Johannine work interweave, turn back on themselves, build up layers of meaning by repetition. The text is much more like a rising spiral than it is a straight line. When we take that seriously, we can have a better sense of what the Johannine author seeks to accomplish.

John 10:28 is an example of this intentional interweaving. “And I am giving them eternal life,” Jesus declares, “and they shall certainly under no circumstances perish, and there is not anyone who can snatch them out of my hands” (my translation).

The NRSV and other translations use the word “never” to render this verse – “and they will never perish.” The construction in the Greek is an emphatic negation. This is, according to Wallace, the strongest possible negation available in Greek syntax (page 468).

While the English word “never” can be used to communicate a similar sense, it also has a more temporal flavor to it. Most often, I think we would tend to hear “never” as “at no time” or as “such a time will never come.” The emphatic negative here has more of the sense, I think, that such a thing – someone snatching the sheep from Jesus’ hand – is no longer possible.

The grammar of negation is found as well in the assurance that no one can snatch the sheep out of the Father’s (or Jesus’) hand. The language of “snatching” here takes us back to the earlier sections of John 10. It is thieves who snatch, who kill and destroy. Jesus, the Good Shepherd, comes that we have may life and have it in abundance. God is never a taker. God is always The Giver. Eternal life, again, is that quality of life where it is no longer possible for us to be snatched and stolen away from Life.

This is a reminder of the way in which the Johannine author wants us to think about “eternal life.” This is not merely biological existence that has no expiration date. Instead, this “life of the ages” (as it is translated literally) is a qualitatively different kind of life. It’s not that death has merely been put off indefinitely. Instead, this is the life where death is no longer in charge. This is the life where a time will come when death is not delayed. Instead, it will be impossible.

As a result, that life is already available and impactful in the here and now. “The voice of the Good Shepherd is a voice that liberates rather than oppresses,” Elizabeth Johnson writes in her workingpreacher.org commentary. “It does not say, ‘Do this, and then maybe you will be good enough to be one of my sheep.’ It says, ‘You belong to me already. No one can snatch you out of my hand.’ Secure in this belonging, we are free to live the abundant life of which Jesus spoke earlier in the chapter: ‘I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly’ (John 10:10).”

More important than the details of grammar is the reference being made here. Perhaps you hear an echo of John 3:16 in John 10:28. In the earlier verse, God saves the world in this manner – by sending the only-begotten Son into the world. God does this in order that no one may “perish.” It is the same verb as we have in 10:28. The result of this saving is God’s gift of “eternal life” – that which Jesus gives to the sheep in 10:28.

Therefore, what was attributed to the Father in John 3 is now equally attributed to (and claimed by) Jesus in John 10. His statement in John 10:30 – “I and the Father: we are one” (my translation) – is not a new addition to the discussion. It is, rather, a summary of what Jesus has declared in the previous verses.

Jesus is not entering into the theological debates of later centuries regarding the ontological relationships between the Father and the Son – issued addressed at the Council of Nicea and Constantinople. Instead, the oneness Jesus notes here is the oneness of the “work.”

O’Day and Hylen point out that the Greek for “one” is not constructed to indicate that Jesus and the Father are “one person.” That assertion would require a masculine form. Instead, the word for one is grammatically neuter. Therefore, O’Day and Hylen continue, “Jesus’ work and God’s work cannot be distinguished, because Jesus shares fully in God’s work” (Kindle Location 2349).

Our friends on the “Sermon Brainwave” podcast note this week that at least some of our Good Shepherd Sunday texts are favorite texts for the Service of the Burial of the Dead. That is especially true for Psalm 23. But I have used John 10:22-30 as a funeral text on several occasions as well. It is especially poignant and appropriate in response to deaths that were sudden and/or unexpected, times when the loved one was literally “snatched away” from the bereaved.

It may be helpful to keep that context in mind as we are preaching on Sunday – that some folks may connect this text to a funeral service for a loved one or friend. Even if that connection isn’t made, perhaps we ought to make it for our listeners.

A simple rationale for this is that often even the most active of Christians have very little notion of what might make for a “good” funeral text. I have found over the years that when I make suggestions of “good” funeral (or wedding or baptism or confirmation) texts during my regular weekly messages, people take notice and sometimes even remember the suggestion when the time comes.

More than that, we might use this sermon at the midpoint of Easter to give our listeners some additional framework for experience and interpreting the losses in their lives. Even when it seems that a life is stolen from us, the Good Shepherd assures us that this is not the case. “Amidst all the other voices that evoke fear, make demands, or give advice,” Johnson writes, “the voice of the good shepherd is a voice of promise—a voice that calls us by name and claims us as God’s own.”

References and Resources

Johnson, Elisabeth. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fourth-sunday-of-easter-3/commentary-on-john-1022-30-5.

Lewis, Karoline M. John (Fortress Biblical Preaching Commentaries). Fortress Press. Kindle Edition.

O’Day, Gail R.; Hylen, Susan E. John (Westminster Bible Companion). Presbyterian Publishing Corporation. Kindle Edition.

Wallace, Daniel. Greek Grammar Beyond the Basics. Zondervan, 1996.

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