For the second Sunday in Epiphany, we are offered a passage from early in the book of signs—the work that we know as the Gospel according to John. It is the first sign performed by Jesus, when he was attending a wedding in the town of Cana in Galilee (John 2:1–11).
I call this Gospel the book of signs because it includes seven clearly narrated signs, or miracles, performed by Jesus. Most of them are inserted in the midst of an evolving narrative, in which followers of Jesus grow in their understanding of who he is, whilst at the same time a movement of those opposed to Jesus gains strength. Both of those features are evident in this first sign.
The author of this Gospel makes it clear that there were more signs performed by Jesus than what is narrated (20:30), and that the signs actually narrated are told in order to strengthen the faith of those hearing or reading them (20:31).
The first and second signs take place in Galilee (2:1–11, 4:46–54). Subsequent signs are located in Jerusalem (5:2–9), the Sea of Galilee (6:1–14), on the Sea of Galilee near Capernaum (6:16–21), back in Jerusalem (9:1–7) and then, for the seventh, and final, sign of those narrated, in Bethany, where Lazarus had recently died (11:17–44).
This final sign provides a clear climax to the Book of Signs, the first half of the whole Gospel. This is the miracle supreme—raising a dead person back to life takes some beating! It is told at some length, with many details, leading to the climactic moment of the appearance of the once-dead man, now alive. “The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, “Unbind him, and let him go.” (11:44).
In the literary framework of the whole Gospel, however, this building to a climax through the seven signs is paralleled by the growing tension as leaders in the Jewish community marshal forces in plotting against Jesus. Initially, there were positive responses to Jesus (2:23, 4:42, 4:45). Then, an engagement in debate and controversy with “the Jews” (5:13) quickly escalated into persecution (5:16) and indeed an attempt to kill Jesus (5:18).
This early opposition then continues unchecked throughout the narrative. Whilst Jesus remained popular in Galilee (6:14, 34) and amongst some in Jerusalem (7:31, 40-41a, 46: 8:30; 9:17, 38; 10:21, 41) and Bethany (11:27, 45), hostility towards Jesus continued, being expressed both in verbal aggression (6:41, 52; 7:15, 20; 8:48; 9:18-19; 10:20), threats of his arrest (7:32, 44; 11:57), direct physical threats (stoning at 8:49, expulsion from the synagogue at 9:22, and stoning once more at 10:31) and threats against his life (7:1, 25, 32).
Then, at the climactic moment, after Lazarus appears, the Jewish leadership plans a strategy to put Jesus to death (11:45-53). The plot is hatched, the fate of Jesus is sealed. That section of the narrative also includes the famous, yet ironic, comment by Caiaphas: “it is better for you to have one man die for the people than to have the whole nation destroyed” (11:50). And so the inevitable process begins, moving towards the death of Jesus (11:53, 57).
For the author of the book of signs, affirming the identity of Jesus shapes the whole narrative of this Gospel. Each sign points to the significance of Jesus. The first sign, in Cana of Galilee, manifests his glory (2:12); the next sign, also in Cana, fosters belief in Jesus (4:48, 53). What Jesus does beside the Sea of Galilee identifies him as “the Prophet who is to come into the world!” (6:14), whilst the sign performed in Jerusalem signal that he is the Son of Man (9:35–38). Later, in Bethany, Jesus raises Lazarus from death, and Martha articulates the faith of others when she confesses Jesus to be Son of God and Messiah (11:27). Alongside these seven signs, the various interpersonal encounters that are narrated illuminate the identity of Jesus.
I read the whole sequence of scenes in this Gospel, from the wedding in Cana, with its implicit criticism of “the Jewish rites of purification” (2:1–11), through the heated debates of chs. 5—8, the high drama of the multi-scene conflict with Jewish leaders and “expulsion from the synagogue” in ch.9, on into the plot of ch.11, as a story that reflects the position of the followers of Jesus who comprised the community in which this book was eventually written.
This group of people (what Raymond Brown called “the community of the beloved disciple”) had been rejected by their fellows, expelled from their community of faith, because of their views about Jesus. They had become yet another sectarian group in the mixture of late Second Temple Judaism, which then bled into early Rabbinic Judaism.
It is this “Johannine sectarianism”, as Wayne Meeks called it, which explains the bruising debates in this Gospel; Jesus is being remembered as “standing up for the truth” by a group of people who had been pillaged and persecuted for standing up for what they say as “the truth”. They had become outsiders; some of them had met death for the stand they took. This was what it meant for them to be faithful to Jesus.
This tragic development is a natural development, at least as the author tells it, from that initial sign, where Jesus is already portrayed as being in tension with others of his own faith. Although it was a wedding—a time of joyous celebration—there were ominous clouds overshadowing what transpired in Cana that day.
Wayne Meeks, “The Man from Heaven in Johannine Sectarianism”, JBL 91 (1972) 44–72)
Raymond E. Brown, The Community of the Beloved Disciple (Paulist, 1978)
Two weeks ago, the lectionary directed us to turn off the road we were following through the story of “the beginning of the good news of Jesus, Messiah” (which we know as the Gospel of Mark), and spend five weeks with “the book of signs”, which contains just some of “the many things that Jesus did” (which we know as the Gospel of John).
This detour came just at the point when we were going to read the story of when Jesus took “five loaves and two fish, looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to his disciples to set before the people; and he divided the two fish among them all … [and] those who had eaten the loaves numbered five thousand men” (Mark 6:30–44). The wording is strongly evocative of the Eucharistic words that Mark later reports: “he took a loaf of bread, and after blessing it he broke it, gave it to them …” (Mark 14:22).
Instead, two Sundays ago we read or heard the account that John gives us, with a less-eucharistic flavour, when Jesus “took the loaves, and when he had given thanks, he distributed them to those who were seated; so also the fish, as much as they wanted” (John 6:1–13); and from that passage, we are then guided over the following four Sundays to follow the extensive discourse that Jesus gives to a crowd that “went to Capernaum looking for Jesus” (John 6:25–71).
Last Sunday, John 6:24–35 was the passage that the lectionary proposed as the Gospel reading. This passage ends with the first I AM declaration by Jesus, “I am the bread of life” (6:35).
After hearing that, on the next Sunday (this coming Sunday) we will read or hear the next section of that discourse, dealing with an elaborated exposition of that “bread of life” (6:35–51). That is to be followed by an account of the disputes that this teaching generated with the Judaean authorities (6:51–58), and then the final section of the discourse where Jesus then has to deal with dissent from his own disciples (6:56–69).
I have already offered comments on those two earlier sections, and plan to continue to trace the words and interactions of Jesus from this long chapter in the coming weeks. For today, we focus on the way that Jesus expands and develops his theme of “the living bread which came down from heaven” (6:35–51). And interestingly, after having eschewed a direct eucharistic allusion in the miracle reported earlier, here the Johannine Jesus takes us step-by-step towards a strongly eucharistic understanding. (More on that in coming weeks.)
A key observation that can assist us in understanding this lengthy discourse is that it has the nature of a Jewish midrashic discussion. The Jewish Virtual Library notes that there are two main types of midrash, and defines it as follows: “Midrashaggada derive the sermonic implications from the biblical text; Midrashhalakha derive laws from it.”
The article continues: “When people use the word midrash, they usually mean those of the sermonic kind. Because the rabbis believed that every word in the Torah is from God, no words were regarded as superfluous. When they came upon a word or expression that seemed superfluous, they sought to understand what new idea or nuance the Bible wished to convey by using it.” That is how I am understanding the relevance of this section of the discourse in John 6.
My Jewish Learning defines midrash as “an interpretive act, seeking the answers to religious questions (both practical and theological) by plumbing the meaning of the words of the Torah. Midrash responds to contemporary problems and crafts new stories, making connections between new Jewish realities and the unchanging biblical text.”
That would indicate that the words of Jesus, in John 6 (as, indeed, elsewhere in the Gospel) were being remembered and retold, expanded and developed, in light of the hopes, concerns, and needs of the community within which this Gospel came into being. In other words, whilst we do not have an accurate historical reporting of “what Jesus actually said”, we do have words which give us a pathway into understanding how at least this group of followers of Jesus understood him, and how they lived in response.
It seems to me that applying a Jewish understanding of how biblical texts are appropriated and understood, through midrash, helps to explain what is happening in John 6. Although it seems repetitive to us moderns, the discourse is actually probing the possibilities and exploring the options in understanding the scripture text that was provided to Jesus by the crowd around him.
Earlier in the chapter, a series of questions have been put to Jesus, moving to a key matter, when the crowd asks: “what sign are you going to give us? … what work are you performing?” (v.30). They continue by quoting scripture (v.31)—a move that is fundamental for the nature of what follows.
By quoting scripture, the crowd gives Jesus his “text” for the teaching that follows. And, of course, as they are Jews, and as Jesus was a Jew, the argument is developed by means of a typical midrashic “playing with the text” in the words that follow. More than that, when we look for the text that the crowd speaks, we find it is a compilation text—something that draws on the post-exilic narrative of the manna from heaven (Exod 16:4 and 15), a poetic retelling of this scene (Psalm 78:24), and an even later Hellenistic-era reporting of this incident (Wisdom of Solomon 16:20).
The fact that we do not have a precise quotation of the text “as we know it” should alert us to the fluidity that was commonplace in the ancient world, when texts were referred to. My own teacher, the late Dr. Robert Maddox (in an unpublished paper entitled “The Use of the Old Testament in John’s Gospel”) put it very clearly:
“The freedom of wording of John’s quotations and allusions is due not to ignorance nor to the nature of the texts he used, but to the fact that he had steeped himself in the Scriptures, as Jesus had before him; and the Biblical text was no longer something external to be reached for to bolster an argument, but something which had become a part of the author’s mind and heart.”
Dr Maddox offers this concise summation of how the author operated: “He treats the Biblical text not with the deference of polite respect but with the freedom of intimate familiarity.”
So, what follows here is a typical Jewish midrash—a use of the text in a somewhat fluid and flexible way that develops and expands a theme. How does Jesus do this? We can be helped by the work of Scandinavian scholar Peder Borgen. He offers a detailed (book-length) analysis of this discourse in the context of the practices and techniques found in rabbinic literature. The book is entitled Bread from Heaven: An Exegetical Study of the Concept of Manna in the Gospel of John and the Writings of Philo (NovTSup 10, 1965).
Borgen compares the midrash undertaken by the Johannine Jesus with midrahim on the same theme found in a third century rabbinic work, the Mekhilta on Exodus 16:15, as well as in a tractate written about a century before John’s Gospel by the Alexandrian scholar Philo, with the title That the Worse is Wont to Attack the Better (Quod det. potior.). (And yes: in preparing to teach John’s Gospel at tertiary level some 25 years ago, I worked carefully through the detailed argument that Borgen has provided!)
Borgen proposes two sections to this midrash: what he calls “a miniature elaboration” in three parts (vv.31–35), followed by “a more detailed elaboration” in four parts (vv.41–51). The first section begins with the scripture citation: “he gave them bread from heaven to eat” (v.31b) and concludes within the full statement of the theme by Jesus: “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty” (v.35).
The second section recapitulates theme, in words attributed to “the Judaeans”, repeating (and expanding) the earlier words of Jesus: “he said, “I am the bread that came down from heaven” (v.41). In between, Jesus engages in a (typical) excursus, discussing “the will of my Father”, which is what he is charged with carrying out (vv.36–40). Belief (v.36) will lead to eternal life (v.40)—a central Johannine motif (see John 3:14–16, 36; 5:24–29; 6:68–69; 11:25–27; 14:6–7; 17:1–3; 20:31).
In the “miniature elaboration” (vv.31–35), after the crowd has stated the key issue in their scripture citation (v.31), Jesus offers an interpretation of this scripture by means of a classic rabbinic-style contrast statement; it is “not Moses … but my Father in heaven” who provided the bread (v.32).
The allusion back to the earlier programmatic declaration in the Johannine prologue is clear: “the law indeed was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ” (1:17). In what follows, Jesus will seek to place himself, as “the bread of life”, in the position occupied by “the Father” in that earlier statement.
So at this point, he pivots from speaking about the bread that God gave from heaven, to speaking about “the true bread from heaven”, himself. An explanation, introduced by the little word gar (“for”), is that Jesus is the bread which “gives life to the world” (v.33). Then, instead of a question, the crowd puts a request to Jesus; “Sir, give us this bread always” (v.34). Which means that Jesus can now make very clear what his thesis is: “I am the bread of life” (v.35).
After the excursus about “doing the will of my Father” (6:40; a matter found also at 4:34; 7:17; 14:13), it is “the Judaeans” who bring Jesus back to the topic at hand. In the “more detailed elaboration” that follows, we find that the restatement of the theme is put onto their lips, as they complain about what he has said (6:41). The use of the verb Ἐγόγγυζον is a deliberate reference to “the murmuring tradition” in the Pentateuch, when the Israelites complained about the hardships of the desert (Exod 15:24; 16:2, 7; 17:3; Num 11:1–2; 14:2–4; 27, 29, 36).
In the objection raised these critics question the authority of Jesus to speak in this way: “Is not this Jesus son of Joseph?” (v.42a), followed by a further repetition of what Jesus is declaring: “how can he now say, ‘I have come down from heaven’?” (v.42b). The placing of the claim made by Jesus on the lips of his opponents—not once, but twice—is a delicious irony!
There follows an answer to this objection, given at some length, by Jesus (vv.43–48). In so doing, Jesus draws himself on another scripture passage (Isa 54:13, at John 6:45). This is absolutely typical of the rabbinic style of midrashic argumentation, in which (as we have seen) an explanation of one text is provided by reference to another scripture text , related by means of a key word or idea.
What Jesus says to them also draws on the typical Joannine motif of Jesus as the one who has “come down from heaven” (v.38; see also 3:13, 27, 31; 12:28; 17:1–5). Another one of my teachers, Professor Wayne Meeks of Yale University, picked up n on the importance of this motif in an article he published just over 50 years ago.
Meeks notes that the claims made about Jesus in the fourth Gospel function as reinforcements of the sectarian identity of the community. As this community had come into existence because of the claims that it had made about Jesus, so the reinforcement of the life of the new community took place, to a large degree, through the strengthening and refining of its initial claim concerning Jesus. What is said about Jesus can also be said about his followers. So what the Johannine Jesus is doing in this long discourse is not simply clarifying his identity; these words provide a reinforcement of how the members of the later community of believers saw themselves in the world. (Again, we will come back to this in a later blog.)
Joh has Jesus make one of his typically exclusivist claims at this point: “not that anyone has seen the Father except the one who is from God” (v.46). Here, Jesus stakes out his claim: he is The Teacher, The Revealer, The One who has seen God and who conveys that truth to those who follow him. This is how “eternal life” is gained: through access to this knowledge, passed on in what Jesus reveals.
So Jesus returns to the main theme with his repeated assertion, “I am the bread of life” (v.48, repeating v.35), and then continues with an expositional development in the following verses. Again he compares “your ancestors” who, although they “ate the manna in the wilderness”, nevertheless died (v.49) with his role, as “the bread that came down from heaven”, which means that anyone eating it will not die (v.50). We are edging into the centre of eucharistic theology at this point, with talk of eating “the bread from heaven”, that is, Jesus. (More on this in a subsequent blog.)
Verse 51 restates what has just been declared: first, the primary affirmation about Jesus: “I am the living bread that came down from heaven”; followed by the consequence for those who believe in him: “whoever eats of this bread will live forever”. It seems redundant to us, but in the midrashic style it is important to synthesize and summarise in this manner.
There is a further step that Jesus takes in what he says at the end of v.51. This also is typical of midrashic style texts; summarise but immediately extend the argument. And the extension that Jesus gives here opens u0 a new issue—one which will be the focus in the following verses, which the lectionary reserves for us to read and hear on the Sunday after this coming Sunday. “The bread that I will give for the life of the world”, Jesus declares, “is my flesh” (v.51c). And so a new matter requires attention … which we will explore in the blog for the Sunday after this coming Sunday.
Last Sunday, the lectionary took us away from the Gospel of Mark, with an awkward detour into the Gospel of John that will see preachers being invited to grapple for another four weeks with a long, extended discourse of Jesus revolving around the first of seven I AM statements found in this Gospel. The statement that “I am the bread of life” has been motivated by the account of Jesus miraculously feeding a large crowd with only “five barley loaves and two fish”, which is told in the passage heard last Sunday (John 6:1–21).
This coming Sunday, this awkward detour leads us into the opening section of this long discourse, as John 6:24–35 is the passage that the lectionary proposes as the Gospel reading. This passage ends with the first declaration by Jesus, “I am the bread of life” (6:35). After this week, we are in store for further sections of that discourse, dealing with an elaborated exposition of that “bread of life” (6:35–51), the disputes that this teaching generated with the Judaean authorities (6:51–58), and the final section of the discourse where Jesus then has to deal with dissent from his own disciples (6:56–69).
I have often heard preachers grumble about the repetitive nature of these selections—“not another week on ‘the bread of life’”—but I think that this underestimates the intricacy of this chapter, and the complexity of the issues that are signalled as Jesus pursues his teaching about “the bread of life”. So the challenge I am taking up is to offer a series of four blogs in which a number of those issues are explored and explained.
Perhaps the first stumbling block in dealing with this chapter is that it does appear to be incredibly repetitive. The phrase “the bread of life”, for instance, appears four times (6:33, 35, 48, 51), with the stylistic variant “the bread from heaven” another five times (6:31, 32a, 41, 50, 58), the intensified phrase “the true bread from heaven” (6:32b), and “the living bread that came down from heaven” also in 6:51. That does, to be fair, seem like overkill. But other discourses in this distinctive Gospel exhibit a similarly repetitive style (as, indeed, does the first letter attributed to John). It is a particular style which characterises this Gospel—one of the many features that set it apart from the three Synoptic Gospels.
Each discourse in the series of discourses found in the first half of John’s Gospel displays some standard features. Each discourse arises out of a specific incident; in this case, the feeding of the large crowd (6:1–21) is the stimulus for discussing “the bread of life”. The discourse picks up a key word or idea from the report of the incident and develops that idea by relentless repetition. That is an integral part of its style. So there are eleven references to bread in ch.6, just as there had been seven references to water in ch.4, seven references to life or living in ch.5, and later there are twelve references to sheep in ch.10.
In typical Johannine style, the thesis of the discourse is driven by questions and misunderstandings. Questions invite an answer; misunderstandings require an explanation. And so the argument in this whole chapter proceeds by means of a series of questions.
First, after the feeding of the large crowd and the crossing of the lake (vv.22–25), the crowd asks Jesus, “ Rabbi, why did you come here?”(v.25). This opens the way for Jesus to explain that his work is not “for the food that perishes [a reference to the loaves of bread that they had recently eaten], but for the food that endures for eternal life” (v.27). And so the theme for the discourse that follows is set; and the irony that is embedded in the language of “bread” becomes foundational for what follows.
Next, they ask Jesus, “what must we do?” (v.28), allowing Jesus then to define the nature of “the works of God” as “that you believe in him whom he has sent” (v.29)—that is, in Jesus himself. Next, the crowd asks a third question: “what sign are you going to give us? … what work are you performing?” (v.30). They continue by quoting scripture—a move that will prove to be fundamental for the nature of what follows.
By quoting scripture (a variant of Exod 16:4 and 15; also Psalm 78:24) the crowd is gives Jesus his “text” for the teaching that follows. And, of course, as they are Jews, and as Jesus was a Jew, the argument is developed by means of a typical midrashic “playing with the text” in the words that follow. We will come back to the midrashic nature of this discourse in a later blog.
Jesus offers an interpretation of this scripture; it is “not Moses … but my Father in heaven” who provided the bread (v.32). At this point, he pivots from speaking about the bread that God gave from heaven, to speaking about “the true bread from heaven”, himself. He is the bread which “gives life to the world” (v.33).
So this section of the discourse ends, not with a question, but with a request from the crowd; “Sir, give us this bread always” (v.34). Which means that Jesus can now make very clear what his thesis is: “I am the bread of life” (v.35). And so, at last, we get to the point! And at this point, the lectionary passage for this Sunday stops—but we will return next week!
This statement is one of a number of “I Am” statements that are placed on the lips of Jesus in the book of signs, which we know as the Gospel according to John. These sayings comprise a verb (“I am”) followed by a predicate (the entity which Jesus claims to be). The predicates in most of these sayings are drawn from traditional Jewish elements.
When Jesus calls himself “the bread of heaven” (6:25–59), he is clearly evoking the scriptural account of the manna in the wilderness (Ex 16:1–36; Num 11:1–35; Pss 78:23–25; 105:40). The discourse which develops from this saying includes explicit quotations of scripture, as well as midrashic discussions of its meaning.
When Jesus presents himself as “the vine” (John 15:1–11), he draws on a standard scriptural symbol for Israel (Ps 80:8; Hos 10:1; Isa 5:7; Jer 6:9; Ezek 15:1–6; 17:5–10; 19:10–14). Likewise, when Jesus calls himself “the good shepherd” (10:1–18), he evokes the imagery of the good shepherd as the true and faithful leader in Israel (Num 21:16–17; Ezek 34:1–31; Jer 23:4), and the people as the sheep who are cared for (Pss 95, 100; Ezek 34:31).
The statement that Jesus is “the light of the world” (8:12; 9:1–5) evokes the story of the creation of light (Gen 1:3–5) and the light which the divine presence shone over Israel (Exod 13:21–22). The Psalmist uses the imagery of light to indicate obedience to God’s ways (Pss 27:1; 43:3; 56:13; 119:105, 130; etc.), and it is a common prophetic motif as well (Isa 2:5; 42:6; 49:6; Dan 2:20–22; Hos 6:5; Mic 7:8; Zech 14:7; cf. the reversal of the imagery at Jer 13:16; Amos 5:18–20).
Although it is not part of an “I am” statement, the references to the “living waters” which flow from Jesus (4:7–15; 7:37–39) are reminiscent of the water which were expected to flow from the eschatological temple (Ezek 47:1; Joel 3:18; Zech 14:8), and, more directly, refer to the description of God used by the prophet Jeremiah (Jer 2:13).
In addition, biblical scholars have noted that rabbinic symbolism has affinities with Johannine symbols; for example, the terms bread, light, water and wine are all used by the rabbis in connection with the Torah. The author of John’s Gospel stands in the stream of Jewish writers who have used multiple images to convey their faith in the Lord God.
Thus, the distinctive set of Christological claims made for Jesus in the Gospel according to John seek to enter into this stream of writing. They are both thoroughly grounded in scriptural images and familiar from the ongoing traditions taught by the rabbis. The author of this Gospel is using a number of ways to declare his faith in Jesus as “the Word of God”, “the Way”, and indeed as being at one with God. It is a high claim.
Amidst the variety of Jewish voices at the end of Second Temple Judaism clamouring to be holders of “the truth”, using a wide variety of rhetorical means, this author seeks to position his community—a sectarian Jewish group—as the holder of the true faith, the ones who adhere most clearly to what the Lord God requires amongst his faithful people. And for this group, it is Jesus of Nazareth who most clearly and faithfully leads them along that pathway of understanding and living.
See more on this understanding of the community of John at
So this discourse addresses what we might assume to have been a well-known and widespread understanding of the nature of God amongst Jews of the time; he is the one who provides the bread to nourish and sustain lives of faith. When Jesus lays claim to being “the true bread”, it is yet another moment when he says, quite poetically, what he later declares in a very prosaic manner: “the Father and I are one” (10:30).
*****
Still to come in considering the lectionary passages from John 6 that lie ahead:
Jesus offers a midrashic exposition on “the bread of life” (6:35–51): how does Jesus operate in his Jewish context?
Disputing the claim of Jesus to be “the bread of life” (6:51–58): the characters in the story John tells, the sectarian nature of his community
The Johannine remembrance of Eucharistic communion and the community’s distinctive “structure of reality” (6:56–69)
“The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified” (John 12:23). So Jesus says to Andrew and Philip, who come with a request from “some Greeks” who were in Jerusalem for the festival of Passover (12:20; see 12:1). Two terms in this declaration by Jesus require exploration; two terms which are key ideas in this Gospel, the book of signs.
The story which John’s Gospel reports contains a contrast between the largely public activities of Jesus, and a secret element, described as the hour, which does not come until the climax of the story is reached. There are pointers to this contrast from the very first sign, at a wedding in Cana, when Jesus declares, “my hour has not yet come” (2:4).
What is this hour? The first part of the Gospel leaves it as a mystery, for the time being (see 7:30 and 8:20). Then, after the seventh sign, events in Jerusalem show that the hour has come (12:23, 27); the narrator explains that “Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from the world” (13:1).
Thus, at the beginning and at the end of the public activities of Jesus in this Gospel narrative, the focus is firmly on “the hour”.
Then, some time later on, at the end of his last meal with his followers, Jesus finally prays: “Father, the hour has come: glorify your Son” (17:1). In what will take place after this prayer—the arrest, trial, crucifixion, burial, and resurrection of Jesus (John 18–21)—this “hour” is realised.
The Johannine Jesus describes these events, the fulfilment of “the hour”, as the means by which God is glorified (11:16, 23–33; 13:31–32; 17:4).
The word glory, in Hebrew Scriptures, signals the divine presence (Exod 16:1–12; 24:15–18; 40:34–39; Lev 9:22–24; Num 14:10–12; 16:19; Deut 5:22–27; 1 Sam 4:19–22). In the book of signs, it is God’s glory which is now made manifest in Jesus (John 1:14; 2:11; 12:27–28; 17:5).
The language of “hour” and “glory” thus provides a framework for interpreting the events in chapters 2–12 as steps on the way towards a full understanding of Jesus, and the events of chapters 13–21 as the realisation of God’s presence in the world in all its fullness. This is the heart of the incarnational theology that is advocated by the writer of this Gospel.
The story of the Gospel fills out the details as to how it is that “the Word became flesh and lived among us”, which means that for human beings, “we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth” (John 1:14).
The passage offered in this Sunday’s lectionary readings provide part of the Johannine account of the final public moments of Jesus before his arrest (12:20–50). Here, Jesus speaks of this imminent glory (12:20–26), an angel testifies to God’s glory in the death of Jesus (12:27–33), Jesus explains that he comes as light into the world (12:34–36), the scriptures join as witnesses (12:37–43) and Jesus asserts that he speaks God’s commandment of eternal life (12:44–50).
This scene sums up what has come before and opens the door to the events which follow, culminating in the cry of the crucified Jesus, “it is fulfilled” (19:30; the NRSV translation, “it is finished”, downplays the sense of fulfilment in the verb used, teleō). The author of this Gospel thereby indicates that the deepest fulfilment of the hour of Jesus comes on the cross, as the glory of God is revealed in its entirety.
An Informed Faith 