John’s Relation to the Synoptics
John’s Relation to the Synoptics
One cannot long speak of the conceptual provenance of the fourth gospel without weighing the relations between this gospel and the synoptics. How much does John owe to the synoptists?
The differences between John and the synoptics have often been detailed. John omits many things that are characteristic of the synoptics: narrative parables, the account of the transfiguration, the record of the institution of the Lord’s Supper, and many of Jesus’ pithy sayings. Themes central to the synoptics have all but disappeared
(esp. the theme of the kingdom of God/heaven). Conversely, John includes a fair bit of material of which the synoptists make no mention: virtually all the material in John 1-5, Jesus’ frequent visits to Jerusalem and what takes place there, the resurrection of Lazarus, extended dialogues and discourses, and much more.
Doubtless some of this can be accounted for by the different geographic focus: John reports far more of Jesus’ ministry in the South, in Judea and Samaria, than in Galilee, while the focus of the synoptists is the opposite. But one cannot legitmately reduce all distinctions to questions of geography. In John, Jesus is explicitly identified with God (John 1:1, 18; 20:28). Here, too, is a series of important "I am” statements, sometimes with predicates (e.g., 6:35; 8:12; 15:1-5), sometimes absolute (e.g., 8:28, 58). There are passages not superficially easy to integrate with other New Testament texts, such as John the Baptist’s denial that he is Elijah (1:21; cf. Mark 9:11-13 par.) and the apparent bestowal of the Spirit (John 20:22; cf. Acts 2). John 1 begins with the disciples confessing Jesus as Son of God, Son of Man, Messiah, Rabbi, and King of Israel; in the synoptics, the confession of Jesus as the Messiah is a great turning point at Caesarea Philippi, about halfway through Jesus’ ministry (Mark 8:27-30 par.). Nor have we yet considered the chronological difficulties that the fourth gospel introduces: its date for the passion, for instance, is not easily squared with that of the synoptics. The last line of John 4:31 strikes many as the evidence of an awkward edit; the threat of synagogue excommunication (9:22) strikes others as desperately anachronistic, reflecting a situation in the late 80s, not in the ministry of the historical Jesus.
On the other hand, there are many notable points of comparison. 63 Parallel incidents include the Spirit’s anointing of Jesus as testified by John the Baptist (Mark 1:10 par. and John 1:32), the contrast between the Baptist’s baptism with water and the Messiah’s anticipated baptism with the Spirit (Mark 1:7-8 par. and John 1:23), the feeding of the five thousand (Mark 6:32-44 par. and John 6:1-15), and the walking on the water (Mark 6:45-52 par. and John 6:16-21). Many sayings are at least partially parallel, though not dicisively attesting literary dependence (Matt. 9:37-38 par. and John 4:35; Mark 6:4 par. and John 4:44; Matt. 25:46 and John 5:29; Matt. 11:25-27 par. and John 10:14-15; Mark 4:12 par. and John 12:39-40; and many more). More significant yet are the subtle parallels: both John and the synoptists describe a Jesus given to colorful metaphors and proverbs, many drawn from the world of nature (e.g., 4:37; 5:19-20a; 8:35; 9:4; 11:9-10; 10:1ff.; 12:24; 15:1-16; 16:21). All four gospels depict Jesus with a unique sense of sonship to his heavenly Father; all of them note the distinctive authority Jesus displays in his teaching; all of them show Jesus referring to himself as the Son of Man, with no one else using that title to refer to him or to anyone else (John 12:34 is no real exception).
More impressive yet are the many places where John and the synoptics represent an interlocking tradition, that is, where they mutually reinforce or explain each other, without betraying overt literary dependence. 64 A very incomplete list includes the following items: John’s report of an extensive Judean ministry helps to explain the assumption in Mark 14:49 that Jesus had constantly taught in the temple precincts (NEB "day after day”), the trepidation with which the final trip southward was viewed (Mark 10:32), and Jesus’ ability to round up a colt (Mark 11:1-7) and secure a furnished upper room (Mark 14:12-16). The charge reported in the synoptics that Jesus had threatened the destruction of the temple (Mark 14:58 par.; 15:29 par.) finds its only adequate explanation in John 2:19. Mark gives no reason as to why the Jewish authorities should bother bringing Jesus to Pilate; John provides the reason (18:31). Only John provides the reason (18:15-18) why Peter can be placed within the high priest’s courtyard (Mark 14:54, 66-72 par.). Even the call of the disciples in the synoptics is made easier to understand (Matt. 4:18-22 par.) if we presuppose, with John 1, that Jesus had already had contact with them and that their fundamental shift in allegiance had already occurred.
Conversely, numerous features in John are explained by details reported only by the synoptists. For instance, in John 18-19 the trial plunges so quickly into the Roman court that it is difficult to see just what judicial action the Jews have taken, if any, to precipitate this trial; the synoptics provide the answer. It is quite possible that the reason Philip apparently hesitates to bring the Gentiles to Jesus in John 12:21-22, consulting with Andrew before actually approaching Jesus, is that Jesus had earlier issued his prohibition against going among the Gentiles (Matt. 10:5)—a point not reported by John.
We summarize here the complex scholarly debates on the relation between John and the synoptics and offer some tentative conclusions.
1. Although the majority of contemporary scholars side with the magisterial work of Dodd, 65 who argues that there is no good evidence for any literary dependence of John on any of the Synoptic Gospels, a number of scholars 66 and at least one major commentator 67 argue that John had read at least Mark, perhaps Luke, and (one or two have argued) perhaps also Matthew—or, at the very least, substantial synoptic tradition. All agree that if John made use of any of the synoptics, the dependency is quite unlike that between, say, Mark and Matthew, or Jude and 2 Peter. The fourth evangelist chose to write his own book.
2. The question of the relationship between John and the synoptics is inextricably tied to complex debates about the authorship and dates of composition of all four gospels. For example, if, as is commonly the case, scholars think of the Gospels as the products of anonymous faces in Christian communities that are more or less independent of other Christian communities—indeed, as the products of long streams of tradition largely free from the constraints of eyewitnesses—then the only means of weighing whether the author(s) of one gospel (in this case John) had read any of the other gospels would be by testing for direct literary dependence. If that is the case, most scholars think the evidence is not strong enough to prove dependence, and one must either assume independence or leave the question open. A minority of scholars, as we have seen, think that a case for dependence can be made out.
But if on the sorts of grounds that have already been canvassed here, we come to think that John the son of Zebedee wrote the fourth gospel and that Mark wrote the gospel that bears his name, with Peter behind him, then additional factors must be considered. Granted the close friendship that Peter and John enjoyed, would it be very likely that either of them would long remain ignorant of a publication for which the other was responsible? Considerations of date then become important. If Mark, say, was written about A.D. 64, and John within a year or two of that date, then the likelihood of mutual independence is enhanced. But if Mark was written sometime between 50 and 64, and the fourth gospel not until about 80, it is very difficult to believe that John would not have read it. The idea of hermetically sealed communities is implausible in the Roman Empire anyway, where communications were as good as at any time in the history of the world until the nineteenth century. It becomes doubly implausible while the apostles were still alive, living with friendships and the memory of friendships. In this case, tests for direct, literary dependence are too narrow if they are meant to answer the question whether or not John had read Mark. On balance, it appears likely that John had read Mark, Luke, and possibly even Matthew but that in any case he chose to write his own book.
3. The incidental nature of the interlocking patterns between John and one or more of the synoptics cannot be used to prove dependency but for the same reason turns out to be of inestimable value to the historian. It is not that the theological thrusts connected with, say, John’s passion narrative cannot be appreciated without reading the synoptics, or that the theological points the individual synoptists make when they describe the call of the disciples cannot be grasped without referring to what John has to say on the matter. Rather, the implication of the interlocking patterns is that at the historical level what actually took place was much bigger and more complex than any one gospel intimates. Something of that complexity can be sketched in by sympathetically examining the interlocking nature of the diverse gospel presentations. The result makes good historical sense of many passages that have too quickly been written off by those prone to disjunctive thinking.
4. This has considerable practical bearing on the evaluation of some of the differences between John and the synoptics. For example, the lengthy list of Christological confessions in John 1 is, as we have seen, often set against the rising Christological awareness pictured in the Synoptic Gospels, which reaches its climax at Caesarea Philippi. It has been argued that the reason for this difference is that John, writing at the end of the first century, presupposes the appropriateness of the Christological titles he introduces in his first chapter but is now concerned to move the church to adopt one further confession: Jesus is God. This interpretation of the evidence simultaneously assumes that the ascription of deity to Jesus is exceedingly late and that the ostensible setting in John 1 is entirely fictional.
Yet if we listen to John and to the synoptics with both theological and historical sympathy, a simpler resolution presents itself. On its own, John’s account makes good historical sense. For disciples of the Baptist to dissociate themselves from him while he is at the height of his power and influence and to transfer their allegiance to someone from Galilee, still unknown and unsought, is most readily explained as the evangelist explains it: John the Baptist himself pointed out who Jesus was, insisting that he came as Jesus’ precursor, or forerunner. Those most in tune with the Baptist and most sympathetic to his message would then prove most likely to become the followers of Jesus, and for the reason given: they believed him to be the promised Messiah, the king of Israel, the Son of God (a category that our sources show could serve as a designation of the messiah). None of this means that Jesus’ fledgling followers enjoyed a full, Christian understanding of these titles: of all four evangelists, it is John who most persistently catalogues how much the early disciples did not understand, how much they actively mis understood. All of this makes good intrinsic sense.
But so does the synoptic presentation. It is only to be expected that Jesus’ disciples grew in their understanding of who he was. Constantly astonished by the kind of messiah he was turning out to be, they nevertheless came with time to settled conviction: he was none less than the Messiah, the hope of Israel. Even this was less than full, Christian belief. Peter’s next step (Mark 8:31-34 par.) was to tell Jesus that predictions about his imminent death were inappropriate to the messiah they were following. Thus, the synoptics portray rising understanding but still expose the massive mis understanding that stood at the core of all belief in Jesus that was exercised before his death and resurrection.
Superimposing both views of reality also makes good intrinsic sense. The evangelist who most quickly introduces the Christological titles most heavily stresses the lack of understanding and the sheer misunderstanding of Jesus’ followers; the evangelists who track their rising comprehension say less about the disciples’ initial false steps but soon point out the profundity of their lingering misapprehensions. John’s presentation no longer appears unhistorical; it is merely part of the undergirding historical realities.
5. But this does not mean we must constantly refer to the synoptics to make sense of John. Superimposing the two visions gives us access to certain historical realities. Rightly handled, it may also enable us to discern what is peculiarly Johannine and thus to understand with greater sensitivity just what the evangelist is saying. His decision to structure his presentation this way, with the evangelist himself constantly drawing attention to the misunderstanding of the disciples and of others and explaining what was understood only later (e.g., John 2:19-22; 3:3-5, 10; 6:32-35, 41, 42; 7:33-36; 8:18-20, 27-28; 10:1-6; 11:21-44, 49-53; 12:12-17; 13:6-10, 27-30; 16:1-4, 12-15; 18:10-11;
19:14; 20:3-9), enables him to operate at two levels, utilizing irony to make his readers see, again and again, that the disciples believed better than they knew, that Caiaphas prophesied better than he thought, that Pilate gave verdicts more just than he could have imagined. The narrative unfolds like a Greek tragedy, every step followed by the reader even when the participants cannot possibly understand what they rightly confess. And then, unlike the Greek tragedy, there is triumph and glorification: the supreme irony is that in the ignominy and defeat of the cross, the plan of God achieved its greatest conquest, a conquest planned before the world began.
6. More generally, though the Christological distinctiveness of John’s gospel should not be denied, it should not be exaggerated. True, only this gospel explicitly designates Jesus "God” (John 1:18; 20:28); but this gospel also insists not only on Jesus’ humanity but on his profound subordination to the Father (see esp. 5:16-30). 68 Conversely, the synoptists, for all their portrayal of Jesus as a man, portray him as the one who has the right to forgive sins (Mark 2:1-12 par.—and who can forgive sins but God alone?) and relate parables in which Jesus transparently takes on the metaphoric role most commonly assigned to God in the Old Testament. The Synoptic Gospels present in seed form the full flowering of the incarnational understanding that would develop only later; but the seed is there, the entire genetic coding for the growth that later takes place. 69 If John lets us see a little more of the opening flower, it is in part because he indulges in more explanatory asides that clarify for the reader what is really going on.
Even the "I am” statements constitute less of a historical problem than at first meets the eye. The statements themselves are quite varied. 70 Jesus’ plain affirmation of his messianic status in John 4:26 ("I who speak to you am he”), constrasting sharply with the circumlocutions and symbol-laden language of so many synoptic sayings, may turn on the identity of his interlocutor: she is a Samaritan woman and unlikely to harbor exactly the same political expectations bound up with ideas of messiahship in many strands of first-century Judaism. After all, John reports that Jesus resorts to circumspect language when he is in Judea (e.g., 7:28-44; 10:24-29). The majority of the "I am” statements in John have some sort of completion: bread of life, good shepherd, vine, or the like (6:35; 10:11; 15:1). They are plainly metaphoric, and although they are reasonably transparent to later readers, they were confusing and difficult for the first hearers (e.g., 6:60; 10:19; 16:30-32): religious leaders did not customarily say that sort of thing. 71 As for the occurrences of an absolute form of "I am,” which can ultimately be traced back to Isaiah’s use of the same expression as a reference for God (e.g., Isa. 43:10; 47:8, 10, esp. LXX), they are mixed in their clarity and are in any case partly paralleled by Mark 6:50; 13:6. And if the most dramatic of the sayings in John, "Before Abraham was born, I am” (John 8:58), is without explicit synoptic parallel, it is hard to see how it makes a claim fundamentally superior to the synoptic portrayal of a Jesus who not only can adjudicate Jewish interpretations of the law but can radically abrogate parts of it (Mark 7:15-19) while claiming that all of it is fulfilled by him (Matt. 5:17ff.), who forgives sin (Matt. 9:1ff.) and insists that an individual’s eternal destiny turns on obedience to him (Matt. 7:21-23), who demands loyalty that outstrips the sanctity of family ties (Matt. 10:37-39; Mark 10:29-30) and insists that no one knows the Father except those to whom the Son discloses him (Luke 10:22), who offers rest for the weary (Matt. 11:28-30) and salvation for the lost (Luke 15), who muzzles nature (Mark 4:39) and raises the dead (Matt. 9:18-26). Individual deeds from such a list may in some cases find parallels in the prophets or in the apostles; the combination finds its only adequate parallel in God alone. 72 Limitations of space preclude detailed treatment of other well-known difficulties in John and their relation to the synoptic tradition. They are in any case sympathetically treated in the stream of commentaries that seeks to keep history and theology together (e.g., Westcott, Morris, Carson) and in the longer New Testament introductions (e.g., Guthrie, pp. 248ff.).