The Measure of Love

"Having said these things, Jesus went out with his disciples." The farewell discourse over, all that remains in the fourth gospel is for Jesus to complete his demonstration of love for both his disciples and the world. The final chapters of John put everyone and everything on trial: the krisis—Greek for "judgment"—can no longer be avoided.

The Johannine Jesus takes the journey to the cross with royal calm. Indeed, the narrator describes Jesus "going forth" to meet the band of soldiers and temple police sent by the conspirators to capture him (18:4). The narrative is thickly ironic: The arresting party is said to be carrying "torches and lamps" as they go to meet the one who is the Light of the world!

The first one put on trial in this series of judgments is Judas, who we have been warned repeatedly would be Jesus' betrayer. While Jesus is surrounded by the police and soldiers, the text surrounds Judas with God's presence, but leaves him "standing with them," that is, the arresting band (18:5). The presence of God is focused through Jesus' divine declaration in 18:5, "I am"—ego eimi, the response of God to Moses at the burning bush that has echoed throughout John's gospel. When the narrator quotes Jesus' statement in the next verse, repeating the sacred "ego eimi," Judas is left with no escape route.

The ongoing trial of Simon Peter continues, as he responds to the royal presence of Jesus by cutting off the ear of the slave of the high priest (18:10).When Jesus faces Pilate a few verses later, he will make clear that "if my kingdom were of this world, my subjects would have fought so that I would not be handed over to the Judeans. But as it is, my kingdom is not from here" (18:36). Thus, Peter's attempt to fight off Jesus' arrest is evidence that he is not one of Jesus' "subjects"!

Which of us would not be sorely tempted to defend a loved one who was about to be unfairly arrested by government thugs? Peter's action is all too human, but Jesus' immediate rebuke shows that Jesus' way is totally inconsistent with the ways of "the world" in which we, too, find ourselves.

The next trial scene finds Jesus brought to Annas, said to be father-in-law to Caiaphas, in turn described as "high priest that year" (18:12). This is not the Sanhedrin trial that we find in the synoptics. Rather, it is a behind-the-scenes, illegal interrogation by a powerful figure in the Judean elite.

Annas' point of view is expressed by his "subjects," who slap Jesus around and revile him for speaking the truth to a "kingmaker." Only two actions of Annas are reported: He questions Jesus "about his disciples and about his teaching" (18:19) and he binds Jesus and sends him to Caiaphas (18:24). Perhaps the wily old high priest emeritus had hoped Jesus would make a deal and turn in his disciples in exchange for leniency, but Jesus instead protects his sheep.

Annas' "binding" of Jesus is the opposite action from Jesus' "unbinding" of Lazarus (11:44). We cannot help concluding that Annas is found "guilty" of participating in the rejection of the light, of being among those of whom we were told back in the prologue (1:11) prefer darkness and the glory of humans to the glory of God (12:42-43).

Meanwhile, Peter's trial continues, as he stands by the fire built by the priestly police and slaves (18:18). While Jesus faces the powers of Judea and Rome, Peter is "tried" by the slaves and servant girl! In the dark, "standing outside" (18:16), and chilled (18:18, 25), Peter gets cold feet and responds negatively to the question, "You're not one of his disciples, are you?" As Jesus claims the great "I am"—as did the model disciple, the former blind person (9:9), Peter proclaims the great "I am not" (Greek, ouk eimi). The cock crows, leaving Peter standing in the dark until the new day breaks.

THE STAGE IS NOW SET for the grand trial of Jesus and Pilate, one of the most remarkable constructions in all of the New Testament. In seven carefully crafted scenes, the text alternates between the calm confrontation of Jesus in the quiet of the governor's palace and the increasing turmoil in the courtyard where the Judean officials clamor for Jesus' execution.

The "murderers and liars" whose father is the devil (8:44) are too scrupulous to enter the "pagan" official's home on the Passover (18:28). The more Pilate tries to hand Jesus back to "his own" standing "outside," the more the crowd insists that Pilate give the death order. The irony could hardly be more thick: Their excuse is that "it is unlawful for us to kill anyone" (18:31). Whether they are concerned about the Torah or the rules of Roman colonialism is not specified. Soon enough, however, they will reveal where their true loyalty lies.

Pilate at first seems to toy with Jesus, enjoying the sport of taunting both the would-be king and the Judeans outside. He ridicules Jesus' seriousness, first by questioning the issue of "truth," and then by allowing the soldiers to dress Jesus up in royal garments and slap him around (18:38-19:5). But when the Judeans reveal to Pilate the reason for their hatred of Jesus—which they had at first refused to do (18:30)—Pilate changes his tune and grows scared (19:8). In response to Pilate's crude claim of the imperial authority of execution, Jesus refers Pilate to a higher authority, that "from above" (19:11).

Now Pilate is really anxious. The Judeans in turn threaten Pilate with his own claim to authority, warning that if he releases this impostor-king, he is "no friend of Caesar" (19:12). In the most bitter irony of the entire gospel, the Judean leadership unequivocally revoke their covenant with Yahweh in favor of Caesar, proving that if Pilate is not Caesar's friend, they are (19:15)!

What more horrible betrayal could be imagined than the choice of the brutal Caesar over the loving God! With that stroke, no further trial is required. Jesus is now "free" to walk the path to Calvary and to God.

The Johannine crucifixion scene is rich with the fulfillment of scripture (19:24, 28, 36, 37). For those who saw (and continue to see) Jesus' death as a humiliating scandal, the fourth gospel offers instead a majestic Jesus who takes his place of glory upon the cross, speaks words that fulfill the ancient texts, and "hands over his spirit" to God (19:30).

Watching this scene are his mother and the unnamed "beloved disciple" who first appeared at the Last Supper and went on to enter Pilate's house with Jesus while Peter waited outside (18:16). Jesus' final gift before his death is of the one to the other: The path of female/mother is linked with the path of male/brother, Israel with the discipleship community.

In contrast, we find Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus conspiring with Pilate over the disposal of Jesus' body (19:38-42). These two "secret disciples" reveal their own continued commitment to the "Judean ethos" (19:40), in terms of Sabbath, passover, and burial ritual.

We have already seen Jesus anointed for his death by Mary in 12:3-7. This second attempt denies the efficacy of the action performed by a woman outside the official procedures. While the men's effort seems well-intentioned, it bears all the marks of insufficient commitment to the hallmark of Johannine discipleship: The willingness to forsake the glory of humanity for the glory of God. Nicodemus and Joseph remain secure in their official status and, hence, are found lacking by the standards of the gospel.

ONCE JESUS has been burdened, the new day can dawn. The fourth gospel carefully compiles several accounts of empty tomb and risen Jesus, allowing the variety of responses to the apparent victory of the powers to be presented, forcing readers to choose among them. First is Mary Magdalene's panicked disbelief, concerned as she is only with the missing corpse (20:1-2).She reports to the men, who go to examine the situation for themselves.

The tragicomic race to the tomb between Peter and the "beloved disciple" is rich in symbolism. Peter is slower to arrive, but first to "enter into the tomb." However, it is the beloved disciple who, having entered second, "saw and believed" (20:3-8).

Given the struggle between Johannine Christianity and the apostolic churches (here represented by Peter), we can read this scene—and those to follow—as the text's comment on the relationship between these sometimes coinciding, sometimes colliding paths of discipleship. And yet, both disciples fall short, "not yet discerning the scripture that he must rise from the dead" (20:9). Rather than celebrate, they turn around and go home.

Meanwhile, Mary is given a second chance. Although she does not at first understand the presence of two angels sitting in the tomb, she responds in faith to the voice of her shepherd calling her by name (20:16, recalling 10:3). But her response is still insufficient: She "clings" to Jesus, not wanting to let her restored master complete his return to God (20:17). She does, however, follow Jesus' command to report the news to his "brothers."

The brothers, though, do not believe! We find them cowering behind locked doors, afraid of the Judeans, not knowing what to do (20:19). "In the midst" of this confusion and fear, they find Jesus present, offering them peace and sending them on their mission with the gift of "Holy Spirit" (20:21-22). He states a condition for their mission: The sins they forgive are forgiven, while those they retain are retained. It is not a "grant" of authority, but a simple word of wisdom. It is up to them (and us) to respond to the sinfulness we experience with bitterness and revenge or with forgiveness and peace.

The final response option to Jesus' death and resurrection is illustrated through Thomas. Show me physical proof and I'll believe! How many would-be disciples have resonated with Jesus' message but found the scandal of a risen Christ too much for a "rational mind" to bear! Thomas' response to Jesus' offer to touch his wounds, "My Lord and my God!" proclaims Jesus greater than the emperor.

With that, the story appears to come to a conclusion, with the recital that these "signs" have been recorded so that "you" (readers) might believe (20:31). But the narrative continues nonetheless with the tale of Peter and his mates back in Galilee. They still haven't gotten the message! Rather than witnessing to "the world" as Jesus has commanded them to do, they are back to their old trade, fishing in the dark and catching nothing (21:3).

IT IS THE FINAL encounter between the Johannine path and the apostolic path, the final measure of Peter's commitment. With Jesus directing their fishing expedition, there is a tremendous haul of fish, but not too many to break (Greek, eschisthe, from which "schism" is derived) the net (21:11).

Jesus then questions Peter twice, "Do you love [Greek, agapas] me?" But Peter's response again falls short: He returns Jesus' agape with simple philea—"affection" where "love" was required. Nevertheless, the third time, Jesus (and the Johannine community) asks using Peter's term of philea and settles for it, accepting Peter's role as shepherd.

Here, for the first and only time, Jesus commands Peter, "Follow me" (21:19), predicting what the Johannine community already knew to have taken place, the martyrdom of Peter. If Peter (and the apostolic churches) were insufficient in loving, they at least were willing to submit to death, which is, after all, the fourth gospel's example of how to show the greatest love (15:13). Peter's word failed, but his action did not, and in the end the Johannine community reaches a place of reconciliation with apostolic Christianity.

The fourth gospel thus ends on a note of carefully circumscribed harmony that is a powerful lesson for our time. Despite the call to lives of radical egalitarian discipleship, we are also challenged to accept the role of apostolic churches as shepherds—when they are willing to act in life-risking ways.

The gospel of John offers us a unique vision of Jesus and his Way, one that apparently could not survive without sharp internal division on one hand (as seen in the first letter of John) and a measure of compromise with the institutional authorities on the other. And yet the story has been preserved, like the messages of Israel's prophets, by the very institutions most challenged by its message. To resolve this paradox, I suppose, would require more books than the world could contain.

Wes Howard-Brook was program director of the Intercommunity Peace and Justice Center in Seattle when this article appeared. He also taught adult scripture education and was a member of Galilee Circle, a Christian resistance community.

This is the final article of a six-part series, the first five parts of which appeared in the January, February/March, May, July and November 1993 issues of Sojourners. The series inspired Howard-Brook's book, Becoming Children of God: John's Gospel and Radical Discipleship (Orbis, 1994).