In the beginning

Nothing interesting has popped up from the Washington Post (not personally interesting, anyway) except for the news that "Donald Trump fires himself as his own debate moderator." Thank goodness for that, but was it really alert-worthy? Therefore, this may be a shocking change of pace, but I wanted to make some comments on the Bible. I'm in a recently started Bible study with some other Higher Ed girls and we've decided to go through the Gospel of John, one chapter a week.

A few semesters ago I took a class with Dr. Shidemantle on the Gospel of John, so it is a different experience for me: each week I feel both informed and unprepared, because the more I "know" about the book or chapter, the more aware I am that my self-sufficient attitude needs to be checked at the door. Or at the Italian leather binding. I want to record some of my new insights, the things I notice this time around, and I hope that anyone who reads this will be encouraged.

The Gospel of John
First, it is helpful to know that although this book is traditionally believed to have been written by the Apostle John (who also wrote the three epistles of John and the Revelation), he is never identified in the text. The closest the author comes to mentioning himself is with the phrase "the disciple whom Jesus loved." We accept the authorship of the Apostle because of the strength of church tradition, but also because of some of the literary styles and themes within the text.

Second, a reader should pay attention to a few themes in the text. One is the juxtaposition of life and death - Jesus is shown to be and offer a life that is more than tissue, bone and fluid, which he gives freely. Another is the importance of signs in this gospel - several of Jesus' miracles are specifically identified as "signs," and each can be matched with a specific discourse where Jesus makes the greater purpose of that sign more clear to his followers. Finally, imagery in the text repeatedly presents traditional Jewish worship and shows Jesus fulfilling the promises and symbols so pervasive to the religion.

This gospel is believed to have been written between 60-80AD. Some claim that John was predicting the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple and others that he was writing in its aftermath. Either way, it is clearly an evangelical book and targeted at Jews who were (or soon would be) confused about the end of their traditional temple worship structures. This persuasive purpose is found in John 20:30-31

Jesus did many other miraculous signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not recorded in this book. But these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name. (NIV)

John 1
The prologue (1:1-18) is poetic and therefore always hits my emotions pretty hard, but this time the emotional impact carried throughout the chapter. The prologue begins with the well-known phrase "In the beginning," recalling the dramatic introduction to the book of Genesis. With regard to the themes I mentioned, all three are found in the prologue: we are told that "the Word" (Jesus) is both light and life, true light and truth. We are told that through "the Word" we have received one blessing after another, not the least of these the disclosing of his glory through the incarnation and other miraculous signs. Finally, we are told that "the Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us" (1:14); the phrase "made his dwelling" could also be translated "he tabernacled" among us, recalling the wilderness era temple and offering "the Word" as a living substitute for that structure. The rest of the chapter jumps right into the story, where we hear from John the Baptist (who was introduced in the prologue), meet Jesus, and watch Jesus call his first disciples.

These are all the sorts of things that I knew coming into the reading of this passage. This time as I read it, what really struck me was the timing of it all. The very fact that this gospel has a prologue informs one that John wrote with a knowledge of the end. He, and some of those he writes to, have personal experience with the rest of the story - this is clear from verse 16: "From the fullness of his grace we have all received one blessing after another." We are reminded why we care about one man's story, or why we should care, if we do not: because Jesus' story is not the story of one man but the repetition of a call as old as time and a vision as beautiful as the first sunrise: full of grace and truth.

I'm a sucker for a good epic. I can admit that books like The Lord of the Rings and the Wheel of Time series can catch and hold my attention for hours at a time because I love to follow characters through their interaction with the ancient and sacred in search of purpose. John's prologue does this for me as well. But there is more to it than a simple epic, and the moment we are invited to take part in is more than one more character's realization of the small part they play in history. "The Word became flesh" in a specific moment. Grace and truth and the face of God were made known to us in a specific time and place and no one but Jesus could have been that person - Jesus' life is the turning point in history, and that is why we care to read this.

Going forward (in the chapter) to the more literal, historical testimony of John the Baptist and the call of the disciples, that ancient desire for transcendence and purpose is still there. The Baptist's self-description come from an ancient prophet (Isaiah): "I am the voice of one calling in the desert, 'Make straight the way for the Lord'" (John 1:23), and he describes Jesus using sacrificial Old Testament imagery when he calls him "the Lamb of God." But their relationship - John the Baptist and Jesus' - is the most striking one. The Baptist says "This is the one I meant when I said, 'A man who comes after me has surpassed me because he was before me'" (1:30). Jesus and the Baptist were cousins, and even before he was born the Baptist recognized the presence of his Lord in Mary's womb. Their history and God's revelation enabled the Baptist to loudly proclaim that the past and the future were melded and completed in this man, this God-made-known.

So Jesus has been identified as the one who is eternal, who was from the beginning and is here to make God's face known. This prior knowledge extends to the people he would call as his disciples. He knows what they want to know in addition to what they ask about. We are told that he found Phillip, and that he knew where Nathanael was before he arrived. Each of the disciples receives their savior's invitation (or call) in a personal way, even if some of them do not understand - how long was it between Jesus' renaming of Simon (to Cephas, or "rock") and his statement in Matthew 18 that "on this rock I will build my church"?

So what?
I love the literary power of this book, its repetition and the themes that have begun to weave their way through it. There is so much more that I could say about each section and each verse, but I want to give myself and you, my readers, a chance to respond. What do you think?

While it is beautiful - and good for my soul - to remember that Jesus was the turning point of a history that has a beginning (and eventually an end), how do I respond to it? The greatest struggle for me, and possibly for some of you, is that this is reminder of the knowledge of God - do you see how well Jesus knew his disciples, before he met them? This is true for us as well. He knows everything about us, the most hidden sins and insecurities, and if you focus on that it can be terrifying.

But that's not where our focus should be. Do you think that John chose to tell this story this way so that we would be constantly reminded that there's nowhere to hide and therefore paralyzed in fear? Certainly not! Remember that Jesus knew ahead of time the doubts and sins of his disciples and, knowing those things he chose them anyway. It was not for the perfect that the Word became flesh, but for love. Grace and truth came so that we could receive one blessing after another instead of wallowing in our own fear.

What do you think?