John: Chapters 8 to 14

Click here for the first part of John.

CHAPTER 8

Now for one of the most famous stories in the Bible.  Christ comes upon a woman who has just been found committing adultery. (Where is the guy?  Nothing is ever said about him). The Pharisees bring her before Jesus and ask him what should be done.  It’s another attempted trap.  The law says she should be stoned to death – but will Jesus actually call for that? 

As is typically the case, Christ replies indirectly. He starts writing in the ground with his finger.  Then he simply says, “Let the one among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.”  (The King James translation is a bit more poetic, but this is probably more accurate to the original).  Well, one by one, they all walk away, leaving just Jesus and the woman.  He asks her if anyone has condemned her.  Nope, no one.  Then neither do I.  “From now on do not sin any more.”  Then Christ drops the mike and walks off the stage.

That’s a great story, isn’t it?  The appeal is that it goes to the heart of what people want out of religion in general and Christianity in particular.  They want forgiveness.  They want to be absolved.  They don’t want fire and brimstone.  They don’t want harsh punishments.  But neither do people want to be told that everything they do is good. They know they sin. (We know we sin).  But then again – everyone sins, including the Holier Than Thous.  So let’s accept people for what they are, and seek to work with them instead of punish them. 

Great story, eh?  Yeah – and one other thing about it: this story wasn’t in the original John.  In our oldest copies of the gospel, it isn’t there.  In fact, in some really old copies of the gospels, it shows up in different places.  In some copies it comes later in John.  In at least one surviving copy, it’s stuck in Luke.  Bart D. Ehrman, in “Misquoting Jesus” notes that it’s likely something from oral tradition – a story that people told about Jesus.  Then they needed a place to put it in one of the gospels.  This isn’t necessarily different from the rest of the gospels.  All the stories were first oral tradition before getting written down.  But this was a later addition.  I believe the writing is even grammatically different in its ancient Greek original compared to much of John.  (I think).  Ehrman also says that what happens just before and after this story reads better if you cut it out.  (He said that, but I can’t really say I noticed it when reading this book).

I wonder what Christ was writing down in the dirt.  That’s always been a question, but John itself doesn’t say.

Anyhow, Chris goes out and gives teachings and jousts with his enemies.  Famous lines include: “I am the light of the world,” and “The truth will set you free.”  Huh.  I had no idea that the truth-freeing line came from the Bible.  Yeah, that makes sense. 

At one point Jesus speaks and the Jews listening to him start to believe him.  But then in the next paragraph Jesus says to the Jews, “But you are trying to kill me.”  It’s like they’re all the same to Jesus. Some Jews want him dead, so he says they’re all trying to kill him.  That is distasteful.  He accuses them of abandoning God and Abraham, saying that “You belong to your father the devil.”  You can see some very clear, very obvious early Christian anti-Semitism.  This is a book written for a new religion; not something part of the Jewish tradition, even if it grew out of the Jewish religion. 

At one point, Christ tells the people he’s not possessed, and then explains what he stands for.  Their response? “Now we are sure that you are possessed.”  Heh.  That was funny.  The people get so upset at him, that the chapter ends with people looking to stone him to death.  That makes quite the contrast with the beginning of the chapter, doesn’t it?

Whereas Matthew and the others made Christ’s enemies the Pharisees or the scribes, here it’s just the masses. Sure, some believe in him – but it’s just a mass of people picking up stones to kill Jesus as Chapter 8 ends. 

CHAPTER 9

Time for another miracle.  Christ cures a man blind from birth.  It has a memorable way of doing it, too – miracle spit!  He spits in some dirt to make clay and applies the clay to the man’s eyes.  His Immaculate Saliva does the trick. 

This leads to a back and forth when the people find out that Old Blindy needs a new nickname.  It actually gets a bit legalistic, as they get a hold of Blindy’s parents and get them to acknowledge that he really was blind from birth until five minutes ago. As always in the case of Jesus, the miracle is done to show to everyone that he is the Son of God.

Actually, in a debate the breaks out in Christ’s divinity, his opponents make an interesting point.  We know that God spoke to Moses, but how do we know God spoke to you?  This would be a good argument – if he hadn’t just done a miracle.  (Well, they need proof he isn’t in league with Satan).  But the gospels always give the impression that people ought to know and should know who Christ is.  The Baptist, Peter, and other recognize his divinity on sight in John.  Others learn after listening to him for a bit.  It’s obvious.  That’s the gospel’s take.  Yeah – but that’s naïve.  I don’t blame people for needing more to go on than that.  But --- the guy just did a miracle!  This is a legitimate counter-argument they’re making, but at the worst time possible.  (Actually, it makes sense that the gospel writer would place the counter-argument in a place where it can be so easily refuted.  The writer is trying to convince us of Christ’s divinity; not that the other side has a point).

CHAPTER 10

This chapter’s start caught me off-guard.  It’s unlike nearly everything else in John.  It’s ….(drum roll, please) … a parable!  Remember those guys?  This is how Christ laid down almost all of his teachings until the chapter.  But you get the first traditional Christly parable here to lead of Chapter 10. 

It’s about thieves going through gates to rob shepherds.  People don’t get it though (just like old times!) so Jesus explains.  Jesus is the fate, the sheep are the people.  The thieves are those who would lead you down the wrong path.  Jesus goes on to explain that he’ll be the good shepherd who will lay down his life for his sheep.  Yeah, that’s exactly how the story ends, too.  (It does press the analogy to the breaking point though: a shepherd laying down his life for his sheep?  That just sounds a little silly.  But maybe that’s just me).  There has always been a lot of sheep/shepherd talk/imagery in Christianity, and it comes off stronger in John than any other gospel.

He keeps talking and again gets a bad reaction.  For the second time in three chapters, people start picking up rocks to throw at him.  Christ asks them why they are doing this and they respond that he’s committing blasphemy. This is a bit silly.  If they’re picking up rocks, they are done with debate.  They wouldn’t here him out and explain themselves to him.  They’d stone him in mid-sentence, and that would be that. 

They try to arrest him, but he escapes.  The Bible doesn’t explain how.  But I bet if Jerry Bruckheimer ever directed The Gospel of John: The Movie” we’d get an extended 25-minute chase sequences based on John 10:39. 

CHAPTER 11

Now for the main event (and rather conveniently, it’s in the exact middle of this 21 chapter gospel) – the raising of Lazarus! 

Christ has done many wonderful deeds so far in John; and they’re all done with the explicit purpose of proving that he really is the Son of God.  Now for the showstopper, the miracle to end all miracles – raising a dead man.  Yes, there have been miracles like this before.  As early as Matthew, Christ raised a girl believed to be dead.  But then some ambiguity existed.  Christ said she wasn’t really dead, but just sleeping. 

There is no mistaking it this time. Lazarus is dead – four days dead to be exact.  Smelly, rotting, flies-buzzing dead.  But Christ raises him.  In fact, Christ waits until he’s been dead for a while, just to make this the miracles of all miracles.  After hearing Lazarus was ill, Christ waits for two days before heading out.  He doesn’t set any land speed records in getting back, either.  He knows what he’s doing.  He knows that as Son of God, he can bring the dead back to life whenever he wants.  So he will. So he does.

Oh, quick side note – we learn at the top of the chapter that Lazarus is from the same village as Mary.  No last name is given, but you just assume it’s Mary Magdalene, right?  Well, this gospel tells us hat “Mary was the one who had anointed the Lord with perfumed oil and dried his feet with her hair.”

OK, that’s interesting for a few reasons.  First, that runs together two stories from previous gospels.  The others had a woman – name never given – anointed him with perfumed oil just before he’s arrested.  The other, completely different story from Luke, has a prostitute bathing Christ’s feet with her tears and wiping it with her hair.  No name was given, there either.  This gospel writer has heard a version that apparently combines them – and ascribed an identity to both.  That identity is simply referred to as “Mary.”  People have just naturally come to assume it means Magdalene.  That makes sense, but she’s never listed as the person doing that in the other gospels (or here, technically, as it’s just “Mary”).  So this is where we get the notion that she’s a prostitute from – because John combined two stories and gave them to her.  So that explains that.  No gospel ever calls her a prostitute, though.  But that’s her image.

Anyhow, the miracle itself if pretty anti-climactic.  Christ tells Lazarus to rise, and Lazarus does.  Michael Bay will probably punch that one up when Bruckheimer gives it to him to direct. 

The Messiah also gives an explanation for his action that is all Christ, no Jesus: “I am the resurrection and the life, whoever believes in me, even if he dies, will live.”  That’s not how he talked in any of the previous gospels.  It does sound pretty, though.  I should note that this most famous of Christ’s miracles only appears in this, the last written of the gospels.  Either it just slipped the minds of people closer in time to the event, or it’s an example of tall tales getting taller the more Christ recedes into the past.

The chapter doesn’t end there, though.  The Jewish leaders have a meeting to discuss the Christ Problem.  And here, to my surprise frankly, John actually gives them a motive for wanting to kill Christ.  They say, “If we leave him alone, all will believe in him, and the Romans will come, and take away our land and our land.”  They think he’s not worth the hassle.  We can’t beat Rome, not even with Christ.

A few things about that.  First – this shows a complete lack of faith.  They are addressing this purely in terms of power politics.  If they really had faith, they wouldn’t do that.  That’s a pretty damning indictment given that their identity (and their own person positions) are based on religion. Second, purely in terms of power politics, they have a decent point.  Third, if what they say is true, then it makes all the sense in the world for Rome to execute Christ.  Let’s nip all of this in the bud, shall we.  (Of course, a Christian could then say the future 66-70 AD Jewish revolt was doomed to fail because they’d already turned their back on their true leader).

Ultimately, the leaders decent to kill Christ.  This is – by my rough approximation – the 3,167^th time that’s been mentioned in John.

Oh, and now we approach the last Passover, the one where Jesus Christ dies.  And we’re only halfway through the gospel.

CHAPTER 12

Now, as noted last chapter, Mary goes to Christ with the perfumed oil and then dries it with her hair.  This is the only gospel to associate a name with this activity. 

And John does more than that.  Previous gospels (Matthew and Mark to be exact) noted how the apostles were upset at this action, that it was a waste of money.  Matthew just said the apostles protested.  Mark gave us a clearer sense of how much the perfumed oil cost – 300 days wages, which could’ve been used to spend on the poor.  But John goes even one step further. It isn’t some general “apostles” that protest, but one in particular who protests over blowing 300 days worth of wages: Judas.  He is the one who complains.  Huh.  They’re giving Judas a motive to betray Christ.

Well, no.  As soon as the gospel brings up this possible motive, it swats it down, saying: “[Judas] said this not because he cared about the poor but because he was a thief and held the money bag and used to steal the contributions.”  Actual fact, or attempt to deny Judas a more legitimate sounding motivation? – You make the call. 

Oh, and in a throwaway line, we’re told the priests want to kill Lazarus, too. My goodness Christ’s enemies are bloodthirsty in this book.  The other chapters just had a gradual progression of disputes resulting in crucifixion.  In John, killing seems to be the default mentality. 

Well, Christ comes into Jerusalem. His purpose is clear – he’s here to fulfill his destiny.  It’s controversial because so many believe in him and others hate him.  In fact, the gospel tells us that many who hate him also believe in him.  John claims, “Nevertheless, many, even among the authorities, believed in him, but because the Pharisees they did not acknowledge it openly in order not to be expelled from the synagogue.  For they preferred human praise to the glory of God.”  First, it’s nice to see John not lump all Jews together.  But beyond that – man, he’s not giving them an inch.  Ever heard the phrase “Give the devil his due”?  Well, this gospel writer sure hasn’t.  I really doubt that Christ’s opponents believed he was the Son of God.  I’ll give them so credit for having religious faith.  They just didn’t think that he was the actual Messiah; just a carpenter’s kid with an attitude.

CHAPTER 13

It’s the night of the Last Supper. Yes, already. John really spends a lot of time over the last moments of Christ’s life (and first moments of his afterlife).  Heck, we don’t even get to the Last Supper in this chapter – it’s just pre-dinner festivities.

Actually, the main event here is one of the sweetest scenes in the Bible – Christ washing the feet of his disciples.  It’s a touching scene, where Christ – who for much of this gospel has quite the ego – shows a sense of humility.  It shows if you serve Christ, then Christ will serve you.  Sometimes it’s those little things that make the biggest differences.  It’s the little gestures that shows someone cares and that you’re appreciated.  And it’s rather humbling if the person doing that little gesture is, y’know, the freaking Son of God.  There is something just wonderful about this little scene that I can’t quite find the words for.

Jesus then tells him he’ll be betrayed by one.  The gospel then gives us a really cryptic bit: “One of the disciples, the one whom Jesus loved” – wait, who was that?  Well, the gospel never says.  There’s just this apostle Jesus is especially loves, and it never tells us.  Normally, you’d figure it means Peter.  He’s the one closest to Jesus so far, but no.  The gospel tells us that Peter nods to the beloved disciple.  So not him. 

Then who?  The gospel never says, but the tradition is it must be John.  He is a leading apostle; one who gets to see Jesus with Elijah and Moses (not in this gospel mind you, but in others).  So he becomes the beloved one.  And from there, tradition has it that John wrote this gospel – thus it becomes “The Gospel According to John.”  Nowhere does the gospel itself say that the apostle John wrote this. 

As the chapter ends, Christ tells them to love one another.  Oh, and Peter will deny me.  Got that prediction in all four gospels now.

CHAPTER 14

Christ talks with his apostles some more. Thomas asks, “we don not know where you are going, how can we know the way?”  Christ responds, “I am the way and the truth and the life.”  I imagine Buddha would get a kick out of that statement.

Next, Phillip asks to be shown the father.  Jesus thinks Phillip is dense.  You’ve known me long enough, Jesus says, to realize you see the Father through me.  Silly Phillip. 

Christ ends up giving us some proto-Trinity theology: “I am in the Father and the Father is in me.”  Not only is that proto-Trinity, but it’s also proto-genetics.  I wonder how Christian theology would be different if this gospel had never been written?  It’s certainly the most advanced gospel theologically.  And Christianity needs some complexities, because it wishes the Son of God, but God is the only God, so what does that make the Son?  Are there then two gods?  Could there be others?  The very nature of having a Son of God in a monotheistic religion opens up all these damn loose ends that need stitching up. The Islam religion avoids this by explicitly stating that Muhammad is a prophet, not the Son of God. 

Click here for the conclusion of John.