19:38-42 “… and Was Buried”

19:38-42 “… and Was Buried”

18–19

Jesus’ Suffering and Death

Now, after lengthy preparatory chapters, follows the actual story of Jesus’ passion and death. The main outline of this story is the same as in the Synoptic Gospels: Jesus’ goes to Gethsemane, he is arrested after a sign given by Judas, he is tried first by the Jewish authorities and then by the Roman governor Pontius Pilate, Pilate sentences him to death by crucifixion, and Jesus is crucified, dies, and, on the same day and before the beginning of the sabbath, is buried by Joseph of Arimathea. In this course of events we have the oral tradition concerning Jesus’ passion and death, which, there is reason to assume, achieved a more or less fixed form at an early stage and formed the starting point for the whole tradition of the life of Jesus as that tradition functioned in the church.

But for all the commonality in the main outline, the passion narrative shows great diversity in its written forms in both the selection and the presentation of the material (cf. Lk. 1:1ff.). One can see this already in the Synoptic Gospels, where it can be traced in part to the Evangelists’ differing redactions of the same material and in part no less to the richness and diversity of the traditions they have drawn on in pursuing their goals in writing their Gospels.

And, again, though the general outline is clearly visible even in John, the unique character of John in both selection and presentation sets it apart from the Synoptics. Still, early study of the Gospel traditions saw the general similarities of the passion narratives as important evidence that John was in part dependent on the Synoptics.¹ More recently scholars largely abandoned this viewpoint and have assumed the unique character of the Johannine passion narrative as a starting point.² The striking resemblance in certain details between John and the Synoptics continues to be of interest, as we have seen in the description of events outside the passion narrative (see the comments on 6:1-13; 12:1-8) and as is the case in the passion narratives. But these resemblances can hardly be decisive. One can hardly picture John with the Synoptic Gospels before him sometimes taking over a phrase or detail from them, but more often showing no interest in them at all.

Scholars have therefore searched for other written accounts on which John is assumed to have been dependent. The main arguments for the existence of one or more such sources are that the Fourth Evangelist was too distant in time from the events he describes to have possessed direct knowledge of those events and that a distinction must be made in his Gospel between what is is typically Johannine in theology and what is not. The conclusion is that John’s passion narrative is a theological redaction of an already existing document, which is said to be clearly evident in “non-Johannine” parts of the narrative.³

Some have tried by detailed investigation to understand more throroughly this source and possibly the events behind it. Attempts have also been made to establish connections with sources of Luke that might explain certain striking similarities between John and Luke.⁴ These subtle studies have led to complex reconstructions of the development of written sources that supposedly preceded the passion narratives that have come down to us.⁵ These studies have received widely varied assessments.⁶ Adherents of the theory of direct dependence of John on the Synoptics—in opposition to this ever more subjective application of the tradition-historical method—stay with the verifiable material before us (the four existing Gospels) though with more reserve than was formerly the case with that basic approach.⁷ They do not think necessarily of literary use of the Synoptics by John or of deliberate borrowing, supplementation, correction, or interpretation of the Synoptic documents. Johannine use of the Synoptics could also have amounted to familiarity with one or more of the Synoptic Gospels, used then “from memory,” probably Mark for the general sequence of the passion narrative and possibly Luke as well, considering the occasional verbal similarities.⁸

The important question is whether these attempts to trace the origin of the Johannine passion narrative to (ever deepening “layers” of) written sources do justice to the unique character of the Gospel as we have it and to the author’s own witness. Was the author of the Fourth Gospel—whoever he was—necessarily dependent for his knowledge of the general course of Jesus’ final journey to the cross either on the Synoptics (above all Mark) or, when that theory fails, on an earlier foundational “passion narrative,” after the apostolic witness had already been preached and taught in the church for decades and had, in the manner of Near Eastern traditions, assumed more or less fixed forms?⁹ The mere fact that the Evangelist—as we have seen again and again—assumes that his readers know in general terms about the events that he narrates points in a very different direction from that of a primarily literary development. Furthermore, and this touches on the unique character of the Fourth Gospel, we must question the correctness of what stands as a kind of dogma in some modern studies, namely that the Fourth Evangelist had no substantial personal knowledge of the events that he narrates and that therefore the value of his writing is not in his transmission of the tradition but only in the distinctive way in which he, as a theologian, edited and interpreted the written sources at his disposal.

It is clear that this tears apart what for the Evangelist himself was an unbreakable unity, that of event and interpretation. For him one does not exist without the other. This is clear from the manner in which he intentionally, throughout the Gospel, including the passion narrative, stresses the factual character of what he narrates. It is also evident from the Gospel’s literary structure, in which event and interpretation are presented as an original unity. Not just the remarkable unity of style, which has been repeatedly emphasized by many scholars, but also the Gospel’s integration of form and content, of historical material and interpretation, is too natural and organic to permit any surgical separation, the attribution of some components to the Evangelist and of others to his “source,” a process in which no single “source” ever proves to be enough.

Certainly the Evangelist was conscious of the twofold nature of his undertaking. As a transmitter of the tradition it was certainly not his purpose (cf. 20:30) to put everything down in writing for an audience ignorant of the core of the gospel tradition. He sought, rather, to confirm the community in its faith-knowledge by giving its members a purer foundation for their faith. He does this—as we have seen—in the awareness of the assistance of the Holy Spirit, promised by Jesus to his disciples for their witness. This explains in part the freedom with which the Evangelist varies his method as a transmitter of the tradition, relating what was important for his purposes and ignoring other important matters. But it is also clear that he numbers himself among those to whom Jesus promised this cooperation of the Spirit, those who had been with Jesus “from the beginning” (15:27). Therefore his knowledge of what he writes about is in part direct.

This does not mean that he wrote completely from his own memory and without the help of others. In the passion narrative we must deal especially with the role of the “beloved disciple,” to whose direct eyewitness involvement the Evangelist appeals with so much emphasis (19:35). That issue will further engage us later when we ask the question of authorship.¹⁰ But in more general terms it is true here as throughout the Gospel that the Evangelist writes from within the community of those who were witnesses with him of the glory of the incarnate Word (1:14; 1 Jn. 1:1ff.), on the basis of what Jesus revealed of his glory in their presence (20:30, 31), and on the basis of the deeper insight into what they had experienced in their dealings with Jesus that they gained after his resurrection (2:22; 12:16; cf. also 14:26). It is in terms of this common witness, the witness of those who were with Jesus and with some of whom the Evangelist may have had close ties (note the references to them in 1:40, 43, 46; 6:5, 8; 12:22) that he presents his Gospel and wanted it to be understood and believed. With this witness he, in his way and with his special intentions, represents the apostolic tradition.

All this, of course, does not solve all the problems that come up especially in comparing the Johannine and the Synoptic traditions of Jesus’ passion and death. But it does cut through the great presupposition that exegesis of the Johannine narrative must assume that the factual foundations underlying it lay outside the Evangelist’s personal observation and field of vision and can only be found in written sources that he utilized. It is my conviction that the Fourth Gospel, including its passion narrative, has a much more personal and wider background than that, a background that cannot be precisely described in all its parts, and that it therefore calls for a much more open-minded approach than what arises from the presuppositions of the tradition-historical method.¹¹

Chapters 18 and 19 are clearly divided into three nearly equal sections: Jesus’ arrest and trial in 18:1-27, his trial before Pilate in 18:28–19:16, and his crucifixion, death, and burial in 19:17-42. The first and third sections contain successions of events that make possible further division. The second section, which is completely devoted to Jesus’ trial before and condemnation by Pilate, is especially detailed. Some scholars regard it as a composition of seven parts, a grouping that is said to be discernible also in the other two sections. We will restrict ourselves here to the more obvious scheme.

18:1-12

The Arrest

1 The first words of vs. 1 may very well have been originally intended—before chs. 15–17 were inserted—as the continuation of 14:31. The narrative that follows is in more than one respect a striking illustration of Jesus’ words in 14:30, 31.

Jesus and his disciples go to a “garden”¹² across the Kidron brook from where they have been during their meal and at the foot of the Mount of Olives. Unlike the Synoptics, John mentions neither the Mount of Olives nor the name of the garden. And the Synoptics do not mention the Kidron brook in their description of the place. Of course they are referring to the same place, but from the start John’s presentation is independent of the Synoptics.

2 This independence is even more evident from the narrative of Jesus’ arrest. John does not mention Jesus’ agony in Gethsemane before the arrest (cf. Jesus’ agitation of spirit in 12:23, 27f. and see comments there). Only the word “cup” in vs. 11 is clearly reminiscent of the Synoptic prayer in Gethsemane. This is undoubtedly linked with the perspective from which the Evangelist wants the reader to understand the narrative, that of Jesus’ authority and power with which he, in obedience to the Father, now surrenders himself into the hands of humans (cf. also 13:1-3; 14:30, 31).

The narrative in John is extremely concise. The focus is on a few high points in a story with which his readers were undoubtedly familiar. There is no attempt to give a comprehensive account of the course of events. The moments highlighted are those in which Jesus most clearly manifests his glory. The light falls successively on Judas, the band of soldiers, the disciples, and Peter.

Of immediate interest is the role of Judas, an indispensable link in the narrative, but here reduced to the essentials. Judas is described as Jesus’ betrayer, as in every mention of him in the Fourth Gospel, but here twice, and as the betrayer in action.¹³ As one of Jesus’ disciples he “knew the place where Jesus often met with¹⁴ his disciples” and therefore where Jesus might be on a night like this one.

3 “So Judas”—the narrative plunges forward—“went there with¹⁵ a detachment of soldiers.” This is all we are told of Judas’s activity. It is not reported what he did after Jesus dismissed him (13:27-30), how he made common cause with the Jewish leaders, or that he identified Jesus to the soldiers with a kiss. In John’s narrative this identification is controlled by Jesus himself. Later, in vs. 5, it is said of Judas only that he “was standing with them,” namely with those to whom Jesus was identifying himself. He “was standing,” that is, on their side over against Jesus as the one who had removed the mask he had been hiding behind but who had then lost the initiative and no longer had any role left to play. And that is where the Evangelist leaves him. There is not a word of Judas’s repentance or death, nor any reflection on his mysterious role in the Gospel. However important the often attempted reflection on that subject might be, what matters for the Evangelist is only that Judas disappeared into the power of this world as it came out against Jesus, in clear correspondence with the word with which Jesus had gone on his way with his own (14:30, 31).

The Evangelist’s description of the composition and equipment of the force sent out against Jesus is undoubtedly intended to bring out all the more clearly Jesus’ authority in every step of the course of events. There were two groups of armed men, the “detachment” of soldiers or police under the direction of the chiliarch mentioned in vs. 12 and “officers from the chief priests and the Pharisees” (“the Jews” in vs. 12),¹⁶ that is, servants of the Sanhedrin (cf. 7:32, 45; 18:22).¹⁷ Together, equipped appropriately for a nightly ambush of a band of criminals—“with lanterns,¹⁸ torches, and weapons”—they went to the place that Judas was to show them.

There is much difference of opinion as to who are meant by the “detachment” (σπεῖρα). Often the word is used for the Roman cohort, a detachment of soldiers of about 600 men, or some part of a cohort. The reference would, then, be to the Roman garrison quartered in Jerusalem, and this might suggest that Pilate had already been approached for his cooperation in arresting Jesus.

Some scholars, however, think that such a joint operation of Roman soldiers and Jewish law enforcement officers is virtually inconceivable, especially the handing over of Jesus, with the cooperation with a Roman commander, to Jewish authorities (and not to the Antonia fortress, the headquarters of the Roman occupation forces in Jerusalem). The report is therefore regarded as unhistorical. For theological reasons, it is said, John has Roman and Jewish forces join in a common action, thus giving a universal meaning to the power moving against Jesus—and to Jesus’ superiority over them all.¹⁹

More credence should be accorded to the view, defined at length by Blinzler, that by this “detachment” is not a Roman but a Jewish armed force, the temple guard or police, known from other passages. As in the Septuagint and Josephus, this guard is, like its captain (the “chiliarch” in vs. 12), given Roman military names.²⁰ John calls these temple police “the σπεῖρα,” that is, the only qualified armed group, under the circumstances, at the Sanhedrin’s disposal, along with the Sanhedrin’s own court officers. This view is certainly not unattractive, but whether the application of Roman military usage to Jewish forces was familiar to the Evangelist and his readers cannot be answered with certainty.

Some expositors do not deem Roman participation in this operation impossible.²¹ Such a joint venture between Jews and Romans was certainly not customary and probably hardly conceivable under normal circumstances. But at this time the situation in Jerusalem was not normal (cf. 12:19), and Roman fear of a possible pretender to the Jewish throne could prompt unusual actions. That such a joint undertaking was far from unthinkable is clearly evident from Mt. 28:6ff., which also refers to “soldiers” made available, under the authority of “the governor,” to the Sanhedrin, who, when that for which they were loaned had got out of hand, gave the chief priests a report of what had happened. We cannot easily establish today what could or could not be done in Jerusalem in those days.

4-6 Jesus’ reaction to the appearance of Judas and the armed men is the key moment of the story. In it, Jesus manifests his glory just as he is being deprived of his freedom. Here again the Evangelist appeals to Jesus’ foreknowledge, which for Jesus always means action (see the comments on 13:1-3). “Jesus, knowing everything that would happen to him, came forward and said to them, ‘Whom are you looking for?’ ”²² He is not, of course, asking them what he does not already know. The question has its place in a situation of apparently complete inequality of power, but it is not they but he who takes charge and asks for clarification. Clearly impressed, they promptly answer: “Jesus of Nazareth,”²³ a name that needed no further explanation since it was on everyone’s lips. Jesus’ response is simply “I am he,” by which Jesus seems simply to be identifying himself as that much-discussed person,²⁴ though he thus also expresses his full self-understanding as the one sent by God with absolute authority, just as on numerous other occasions he has made himself known with these two words (see, e.g., the comments on 8:24).²⁵ And that not only in the salvific sense of the “I am” (the true bread, the true vine, the good Shepherd, etc.), but also as the “I am,” as he would one day reveal himself before the eyes of those who now threaten his life. At this point in the story the Evangelist once more (see the comments on vs. 2) refers to “Judas, who betrayed him,” here simply as one standing with those who had come out to arrest Jesus. This not only suggests that Judas’s task of identifying Jesus had been taken out of his hands, but also that Jesus’ “I am he”—in this highly significant and revealing sense—is also directed to Judas.

Immediately thereafter follows the effect of Jesus’ self-identification on his opponents, which as a word of power took them totally by surprise: “they shrank back and fell to the ground.” The authority with which he came toward them and which they experienced as superhuman (cf. 7:46) caused them to step back and fall down. These actions, as is evident from what follows in vs. 7, must not be construed spatially, as is sometimes done. They convey, rather, the transcendent (“eschatological,” cf. 8:28) character of the confrontation between Jesus and the power of darkness that came out against him (cf. 14:30; 12:31).²⁶

7-9 Now follows, without any further reference to the situation, the repetition of Jesus’ question “Whom are you looking for?” and the response of the still inert team sent out to arrest him. The characteristic feature here—the third key moment of the Johannine narrative—now no longer concerns Jesus himself but the care that he shows in this decisive moment for his disciples. Jesus disposes of the first issue by saying: “I have told you (haven’t I?) that I am he.” There need be no further uncertainty on that; the armed men should know what their duty is with respect to him. But he immediately adds: “If, then, you are looking for me, let these men go.” Again it is Jesus who determines the course of events. With the same superiority with which he has spoken of himself he now negotiates the free withdrawal of his own. The Evangelist brings this element to the fore to establish the truth and fulfillment of something Jesus has said earlier: “I have not lost a single one of those you gave me” (cf. 17:12; 6:37). These words thus allude to the care of the good Shepherd for the sheep entrusted to him, care that achieves its full meaning (its “fulfillment”) precisely here now that he is giving up his own life (on “let them go” see also 16:32 and its allusion to 1 Kg. 22:17). It is also remarkable that the formula “this was to fulfill the word,” which elsewhere always refers to fulfillment of Scripture, here refers to Jesus’ own words, which suggests that Jesus’ words are thus being afforded no less authority than the Old Testament Scriptures.²⁷

10-12 No further mention is made of the withdrawal of the disciples, and their confusion and attempts at resistance, matters on which the Synoptics focus, are absent here. Again one is struck by the clearly selective narrative method of the Evangelist, who highlights only a few, to him significant, key moments in what happened, a method in which he certainly assumes familiarity with the general course of events among his readers. Contrasting with this again is the fact that he alone reports that it was Peter who cut off the right ear of the high priest’s slave and that the slave’s name was Malchus (Lk. 22:50 has the incident without those details), thus exhibiting a knowledge of particulars that may be related to what the Fourth Evangelist (again alone) tells us later about Peter and some servants of the high priest (vss. 15ff., 26).

Peter resists Jesus’ self-humiliation and self-offering, which are completely unacceptable in one whom Peter has acknowledged as the Holy One of God (6:69) and whom he now sees being given up into the hands of his enemies. Indeed, this resistance runs through the whole Johannine passion narrative (13:6ff., 24, 36ff.; 18:17ff., 25ff.). Here again the Evangelist’s interest is not in Peter as a person or as a psychological type but in the unacceptable—to human understanding (and to Peter before his “conversion,” Lk. 22:32; cf. Jn. 21:15ff.)—“offense” and “folly” of the suffering and execution of the Son of God. This time Peter does not stop at using only words. He has, like others (cf. Lk. 22:38, 49), taken along a sword, and Jesus’ earlier manifestations of power may have reinforced thoughts that the moment has come for his disciples to fight for him. But the Evangelist leaves all that aside. He confines himself to mentioning Jesus’ final admonition to his disciple, the disciple who now stands in his way by resorting to violence: “Put your sword back into its sheath! Should I not drink the cup that the Father has given me?”

This word about the cup, the last key moment of the narrative, in direct succession to “I am he,” is the core of John’s entire passion narrative and passion interpretation. Jesus is not departing as the victim of Judas’s betrayal and the superior might of his enemies. He has the power to lay down his life before taking it up again, and no one takes it from him (10:18).²⁸ What he does and suffers he does and suffers out of love for and obedience to the Father (cf. 14:21). But his suffering is not for that reason any less real, and Jesus does not pass through it as if he were inviolable. The “cup” symbolizes, rather, the bitterness of the suffering and death he must endure (cf. Mt. 26:39 par.). It is the surrender of his life, which he must give for his own (17:19) and for the life of the world (6:51) as the Lamb of God who thus carries away the world’s sin (1:29, 36). The sin of the world constitutes the inexpressible bitterness of the cup that he, and he alone, must drink. But the cup is still what the Father has given him to drink. Jesus’ power consists in his obedience to do “as the Father has commanded” him (14:31) to the bitter end.

Here, with this last word about the cup, the Evangelist breaks off. Vs. 12 follows with the statement of the arrest and removal of Jesus.

18:13-27

Jesus before Annas, Peter’s Denial

13, 14 The narrative in 18:13-27 interweaves Annas’s interrogation of Jesus and Peter’s denial of Jesus and begins with the statement that “they” (see vs. 12) “first took him to Annas.” “First,” because after this arraignment there will be a second (vs. 24). Annas was the father-in-law of Caiaphas, the high priest “of that year.”²⁹ Apparently Annas derived from that relationship the right or at least the freedom to summon Jesus to come before him for questioning before cross-examination by Caiaphas himself, who as high priest was the Sanhedrin’s presiding officer. Annas is known from extrabiblical sources as a dominant figure in the priestly aristocracy, who was himself appointed high priest in A.D. 5.³⁰ That he retained great influence even after his deposition by the Romans in A.D. 16 can be inferred from the fact that five of his sons held the office of high priest and that he is mentioned elsewhere alongside (or even before) Caiaphas (Lk. 3:2; Ac. 4:6). Here he will even be called “the high priest” (vs. 19), but this only means that he (like other former high priests)³¹ was known by this title even after he left office. The readers would not misunderstand since Caiaphas is named as high priest in vs. 13 and in 11:49.³² Anticipating the transfer of Jesus from Annas to Caiaphas, the text here says of Caiaphas that he was the person who had advised the Jews that “it is better to have one man die for the people” (vs. 14; cf. 11:49f.).

The historicity of this encounter with Annas is strongly doubted, if not completely rejected, by some of the scholars who deny to John all independent knowledge of the events in question. These scholars point to the lack of any trace of such a hearing before Annas in the Synoptics and the lack in John of any word about the official session of the Sanhedrin and the sentence pronounced there. The conclusion is that various versions of the same hearing were in circulation in the tradition and that John’s narrative can be somehow explained on that basis. Other scholars who consider a hearing before Annas improbable alongside one before the Sanhedrin see here (as in vss. 3f.) a presentation inspired by Johannine theology from which no historical conclusions can be drawn.³³

But to our mind there is no reason to think of this narrative as a tradition that has gone astray or as the Evangelist’s composition that, whichever it is, displaced the trial of Jesus conducted by the Sanhedrin under the guidance of Caiaphas,³⁴ especially because it appears in a section in which the Evangelist gives evidence of special knowledge of the situation (see vss. 15ff.). The interrogation by Annas does not have the character of an official trial, a court session convened by someone in authority, leading to an appropriate verdict; it is rather a preliminary examination (note “first” in vs. 13; also vs. 24), undertaken at Annas’s own initiative (see the comments). It is remarkable that the Evangelist does not say a word about the trial under Caiaphas, though the account of the trial before Pilate alludes to the trial before Caiaphas (19:7). The idea that the Evangelist did not know of the trial before Caiaphas is, solely in view of his narrative itself, hard to accept. We have here a manifestation of the selective method of the Evangelist, whose aim is not to give as complete a report as possible of the events and who could therefore skip certain events, even very important and undoubtedly generally known events, either because he had already conveyed their significance in another way (e.g., the institution of the Lord’s Supper and Jesus’ agony in Gethsemane) or because he did not need them for his kerygmatic (“theological”) purposes (e.g., the small number of miracle stories [20:30, 31] and the brief description of what took place on Golgotha [see the comments on 19:17ff.]). And he does report a number of events or details that we do not find elsewhere, such as this interrogation before Annas, simply because it serves his purposes.

The omission of Jesus’ trial before Caiaphas and the Sanhedrin is easily explicable on the basis of the Evangelist’s mention of an earlier Sanhedrin session (11:47ff.), to which the Evangelist expressly alludes in 18:14. There he has already clearly portrayed the Sanhedrin’s view of Jesus and its members’ firm decision to kill him, on Caiaphas’s recommendation (cf. 11:57; 12:10 [note “also”]). And it is not hard to understand why the Evangelist includes the hearing before Annas: Jesus’ reply to Annas makes clear the falsehood of the Jewish case against Jesus. Therefore, after what has been reported in 11:47, the further development of that falsehood does not need to be described again. This also explains why in John the real “trial of Jesus” occurs before Pilate, in connection with which the decisive part played by “the Jews” is reported at length.

15, 16 Before describing Jesus’ interrogation by Annas, the Evangelist first inserts part of the story of Peter’s denial (vss. 15-18). Only after Jesus has been interrogated and led away to Caiaphas do we hear Peter’s second and third denials (vss. 25-27). Peter is in the high priest’s courtyard while Jesus is being interrogated by Annas, and he apparently remains there until early morning (vs. 27), when, after the trial before the Sanhedrin, Jesus is taken to Pilate (cf. vs. 28). This arrangement of the events undoubtedly sets before the reader the contrast during that long night between Jesus and Peter.

The narrative begins—significantly (cf. 13:36ff.)—by speaking of Peter following Jesus. Even after what happened in Gethsemane, Peter was not willing to stop following Jesus (see also Mk. 14:53 par.). In the Synoptics only Peter follows (“from a distance”), but here “another disciple” goes with him. Some manuscripts read “the other disciple,” which would identify this disciple with the one similarly described in 20:2, “the one whom Jesus loved” (cf. 13:23). Many expositors have thought that even without the article that disciple is meant here, and with good reason. Here for the first time in John’s Gospel “another disciple” is mentioned, and then 20:2 mentions “the other disciple,” “the other” referring back to 18:15. In favor of this identification is that the “other disciple” of 18:15 accompanies Peter, which is characteristic of “the disciple whom Jesus loved” (cf. 13:23-26; 20:2-10; 21:7, 21ff.). That the disciple here is not explicitly identified with the beloved disciple may seem strange after 13:23ff.³⁵ But up to 21:21ff. an atmosphere of restraint and anonymity hangs over the figure of “the beloved disciple.”

This disciple was “known to”³⁶ (“an acquaintance of”)³⁷ the high priest, which some find incompatible with the disciple whom Jesus loved. It would be better, we are told, to think here of someone from Jerusalem who was less closely connected with Jesus—for example, a secret disciple like Joseph of Arimathea (19:38; cf. also 12:42) or Nicodemus. But it is hard to draw any compelling conclusions from this more or less casual comment. How seriously must we take this acquaintance? All that is implied is that this disciple had access to the high priest’s dwelling and was acquainted with some of the servants there. He was undoubtedly a member of the circle of Jesus’ close disciples. With Peter he followed Jesus immediately after Jesus’ arrest in the garden, an event at which he was apparently present and from which he made his way with Peter to the place where Jesus was being taken.

The detailed description of the two disciples’ entry into the courtyard³⁸ is remarkable and anticipates their journey to Jesus’ tomb (20:2ff.). Here, as in 20:3, Peter is mentioned first, but the other disciple is apparently ahead of Peter. While he has already gone inside after Jesus, Peter is still standing outside at the gate, apparently lacking his companion’s free access. So the other disciple goes out and talks with “the woman who guarded the gate” to admit Peter. But as the two pass, the woman, the first to do so, asks Peter the question that will dominate the entire story. Why was it important to the Evangelist to convey such a detailed picture of the role of the “other disciple”? Certainly not just to explain how Peter managed to get past the woman at the gate. He did it, rather, to focus on the other disciple as the one before whose eyes and with whose cooperation all this took place. The “other disciple” is not mentioned again in this story. But it can hardly be accidental that his role of eyewitness is significant for the disciple whom Jesus loved, as we have seen in our discussion of 13:23ff. This role is stressed in 19:35, continues in 20:2, and sums up his entire significance in 21:24. That the disciple who is so strikingly depicted in 18:15, 16 was no other than “the disciple whom Jesus loved” is, therefore, for all the restraint the Evangelist observes with regard to his identity, hard to dispute.

Peter’s first “denial” of Jesus directly follows in vs. 17 in the presence of the same gatekeeper³⁹ who has just given him access. She addresses Peter in words that clearly betray doubt:⁴⁰ “You are not also⁴¹ one of this man’s disciples, are you?” We are not told what prompts the woman to ask the question or what she plans to do if Peter gives an affirmative answer. She apparently did not have a high opinion of Jesus (“this man”). How dangerous in fact it would be for Peter (and the other disciple) to be identified as disciples of Jesus is hard for us to say. In any case Peter does not want to be so identified. He denies it as tersely as possible: “I am not.” And that, remarkably enough in the narrative of the Fourth Gospel (cf. vss. 25, 27), is all he will say. But he thereby takes the first step on the road against which Jesus has warned him (see further in the comments on vs. 27).

Verse 18 describes how Peter joined the little clusters of servants⁴² who because of the night’s cold had started a charcoal fire and stood around it warming themselves. The idea is clearly that Peter sought to be as inconspicuous as possible but still observe what was happening.

19-21 Meanwhile—and here the Evangelist again picks up the thread of the story begun in vss. 13 and 14—Jesus has been taken to Annas for questioning. That we are dealing here not with a formal trial before the Sanhedrin⁴³ but with a hearing arranged solely on the personal authority of Annas is clear not only from the context (see the comments on vs. 3) but also from the way in which the facts are reported here. There is no charge or witnesses, only an extremely general question about Jesus’ “disciples and his teaching.” Some have seen in this the opening question of what was intended to be a more detailed interrogation. However that may be, Jesus’ answer puts a stop to any further attempt. He refuses to reply to Annas’s question because it concerns what Annas already knows. Jesus has spoken openly, not just before his disciples, but before whoever has wanted to listen (“the world”). Over and over Jesus has taught “in the synagogue (cf. 6:59ff.) and in the temple (cf. 5:14ff.; 7:14ff.; 10:23), where all the Jews come together,” in spiritual confrontation with the leaders of Israel, situations in which the question “Who are you?” have been posed with increasing urgency and in which that question has been answered with increasing clarity (cf. 10:24, 33). That is where the real decisions have already been made. Not without irony Jesus adds: “Why then are you still interrogating me?” If you still feel a need to do this, ask these people who have heard me and you will see that they know very well what I said!

Jesus’ answer was designed to destroy the illusion that between him and the Jewish authorities, of whom Annas was one of the most important, there was still something that needed to be cleared up and that a trial was needed to achieve that clarification. The die had been cast long before in his relations with them, and the judicial process they were organizing against him and the supposed objectivity with which his interrogator was approaching him were a farce that Jesus exposed by his answer.

This explains why the Evangelist confines himself to this interrogation by Annas and omits (especially after what he has already said about it in 11:49), the trial before the Sanhedrin. And this for all the more reason because a trial before the secular judge was still to come, the trial in which the real issue between Jesus and the Jews would again come to light (cf. 19:7) and in which Jesus would speak.

22-24 Of Annas’s reaction we hear no more than that he sends Jesus bound to Caiaphas, the incumbent high priest (see the comments on vss. 13, 14). But someone there does respond to Jesus’ words, one of the officers (cf. vss. 3, 12), who, on hearing Jesus response to the high priest, strikes him on the face, saying: “Is that how you answer the high priest?” He evidently considers Jesus’ answer a violation of the respect due to the high priest (cf. Ex. 22:28).

Jesus’ answer to this maltreatment is filled with self-control and dignity. But he does not turn the other cheek (cf. Mt 5:39). At stake in this moment is more than love of one’s enemy. It is a question of truth and justice in this final contest between Jesus and the Judaism represented by the high priest. Accordingly, Jesus’ final question—presumably formulated in connection with what the law said was owed rulers⁴⁴—is: “If I have spoken wrongly, prove⁴⁵ it; but if I have spoken rightly, why do you strike me?”

With this blow struck by the high priest’s servant and Jesus’ unanswered question not only Jesus’ hearing before Annas but also the confrontation between Jesus and official Judaism—described at such length by John—is brought to a close in an unmistakable, highly telling way. From this point on Jesus is in the hands of Pilate.

25-27 But Peter must still deal with the high priest’s servants. Here again the connection that the Evangelist fashions between what is happening with Jesus and what is happening with Peter is most revealing. Vs. 25 picks up the thread of vs. 18. While Peter is warming himself by the fire, he is again confronted with the same question: “You are not⁴⁶ also one of his disciples, are you?” He denies it with the same terse response: “I am not.”

Then, without any direct connection, follows the third question (vs. 26), but now more directly and more threateningly and from a member of the high priest’s staff, a man related to the servant whose ear Peter has cut off. His questions sound as if there is hardly any doubt at all: “Did I not⁴⁷ see you in the garden with him?” It is not made clear whether the speaker in vs. 26 reacts directly to Peter’s denial in vs. 25 or whether, as in the Synoptics, the third question surfaces later (“after a little while,” Mk. 14:70; Mt. 26:73; “about an hour later,” Lk. 22:59); in the Synoptics the questioner is not identified as a relative of Malchus but as one of those who recognized Peter by his speech. This question made things very hot for Peter, but we are not told in what words he responded. The Evangelist confines himself solely to Peter’s denial, this time with the telling addition, “and at once the cock crowed.”

This is the fulfillment of 13:38, perhaps more clearly in John than in the Synoptics. Comparison of the four reports brings out, apart from the differences and discrepancies in detail among them,⁴⁸ the restraint with which John describes Peter’s answers. John has no trace of the increasing emphasis and vehemence with which Peter denies that he knew Jesus (“that man”), culminating in oaths (Mk. 14:71), and nothing about Peter’s contrition and bitter tears when the cockcrow brought him to his senses.

According to some expositors this story had no particular “theological” significance for the Evangelist and was merely borrowed from his “source” because he needed it in connection with 13:36-38.⁴⁹ But this narrative constitutes the dramatic climax of Peter’s recurrent (in this Gospel) resistance to Jesus’ self-humiliation (13:6ff.) and self-offering in death (13:24, 36f.; 18:10). It is in part precisely in the extreme restraint of Peter’s repeated “I am not” that the point of the Johannine narrative is to be found. The Evangelist abstains from making any psychological or moral assessment of Peter’s threefold denial, whether in his fear or his cowardice or his collapsing overconfidence.

Peter is not brought on the scene here, as is often said, as an admonitory example for the church, which, in following Jesus, can be all too unreliable. In the extreme restraint of the repeated “I am not”⁵⁰ the Evangelist is rather echoing the repeated “I am”⁵¹ with which Jesus answers his interrogators (vss. 5, 8). With this contrast the Evangelist lays bare the deeper meaning of Peter’s denial. Peter’s threefold denial affirms the loneliness of Jesus’ suffering and death: Jesus goes alone on a road from which no one can keep him and on which no one, not even Peter, can join him or follow him (13:36; cf. 13:33). Peter tries to follow Jesus, and that only plunges him into denying Jesus. Jesus had foretold this. The cock crows “at once” into Peter’s ears when for the third time he must say of himself: “I am not.”

With this the story ends. But, unlike Judas, Peter returns “afterward” (cf. 13:7, 36), when Jesus summons Peter to “follow” him on the road on which he has “once for all” preceded Peter and all his own and which he has made traversable for them only by “going to the Father” (cf. 21:15ff.).

18:28–19:16a

Jesus before Pilate

The account of Jesus’ trial and sentencing before Pilate takes up an important segment of the Johannine passion narrative, made all the more striking because the preceding trial before the Sanhedrin is not mentioned (see above). What makes this pericope so inordinately important is first of all the length at which the Evangelist describes the role—and hence the responsibility—of both Pilate and “the Jews” in the drama of Jesus’ condemnation to death on the cross. It is undeniable that Jesus was condemned to death by the representative of the Roman Empire and on the basis of Roman law, and the sentence of death by crucifixion was carried out as a Roman penalty. But it is no less clear that in this account “the Jews” drove Pilate to this resolution of the matter. Without this pressure Jesus would never have been condemned by Pilate.

Second, as the account unfolds it becomes progressively more clear that although the issue in this trial is Jesus’ alleged political aspirations (as “king of the Jews”) the Jews’ actual grievance is the way in which he has spoken of his unity with the Father. This they consider pure blasphemy. This ambiguity makes the whole trial a farce from the start. But it also explains the stubbornness with which the Jews demand Jesus’ death and consider no method too reprehensible to force their will on the governor.

In modern times, especially after what happened to the Jews in World War II, scholars have viewed this division of roles as extremely biased in favor of Pilate and against the Jews. The “almost incredible impudence” with which the Jews try to pressure Pilate is seen as an attempt on the part of John (or the tradition he followed) “to fasten the full guilt of the condemnation of Jesus firmly on the Jews and to exonerate the Romans.”⁵² There is also the well-known statement of Winter: “From John 18,29 onward the Fourth Gospel contains nothing of any value for the assessment of historical facts.”⁵³ And Lapide writes of John 18: “The Jewish New Testament scholar is strongly tempted to answer Pilate’s question ‘What is truth’ by saying: ‘In any case not this account of the Roman trial.’ ”⁵⁴ This shift of responsibility from the truly guilty—Pilate and the Romans—to the Jews must be explained primarily, according to Lapide, not from hatred of the Jews but from fear of the Romans, because they would feel insulted if the responsibility were too emphatically ascribed to them or because, if the “true” facts of the case were known—namely that Pilate, for political reasons, took the initiative to have Jesus put to death—the Christian faith ran the risk of being declared an illicit religion in other places as well.⁵⁵

Against this approach, however, a number of objections can be advanced. Pilate does not come out that much more favorably than the Jews in this account. He does say more than once that, as judge, he thinks Jesus is innocent. But the repetition of this finding takes nothing from the unprincipled character and above all the injustice of his condemnation of Jesus to the cross, but rather emphasizes it. Accordingly, it is hard to see how the assignment of roles could exonerate or placate the Romans at the expense of the Jews. On the contrary, one may well ask whether more damage could be done to the majesty of Roman justice than by Pilate’s representation of it in the trial of Jesus.

Furthermore, the Evangelist does not know which side was more culpable, Pilate or the Jews. The construction of his account brings out in a masterly way that the deep hostility between Pilate and the Jews did not prevent them from finally uniting into a single front against Jesus. Both parties had to do violence to their own positions—Pilate by allowing himself to be blackmailed as “a friend of the emperor” by the despised Jews, the Jews by passing themselves off to him as those who recognized no other king than the emperor and therefore wanted nothing to do with a “king of the Jews.” The carefully planned structure of the account of Pilate’s repeated going in and coming out, of the progressively more vehement dispute between him and the Jews, is not intended, therefore, to measure the relative guilt of the two parties but to exhibit the paradoxical outcome of the whole process—how they found each other in a single unprincipled alliance against Jesus (cf. Acts 4:27).

To what degree does the structure of the account give a historically precise reflection of what happened? Scholars have at times viewed the entire presentation of the trial before Pilate in the Fourth Gospel as historically untrustworthy and have had difficulty finding words strong enough to condemn it as inferior.⁵⁶ By and large scholars have given up this negative approach, among other reasons because we cannot apply to John’s account of the trial criteria that apply to a legal report. We must rather ask what the Evangelist wanted his readers to understand by means of this account.⁵⁷ Granted, mention is then made of “the thoroughly theological shaping of the events of the trial,” while for the interpretation “the historical question will be allowed to recede.”⁵⁸ Undoubtedly contained in this statement is the truth that here, too, the Evangelist’s aim is not to convey a report of the events that is as objectively “neutral” and complete as possible, but as Evangelist to depict before the eyes of his readers the essential features of the events in their inevitable development and outcome. And this undoubtedly in a very summarizing and selective way, a method that can hardly be conceived in any other way in view of the time-consuming (cf. vs. 28; 19:14) and increasingly chaotic character of the events. In that sense one can undoubtedly speak of an independent and free presentation of the narrative.⁵⁹

But this does not mean that the Evangelist so lost sight of the actual course of events (or was so ill-informed about it) that the section before us can still only be judged and evaluated on the basis of its theological characteristics and no longer on the basis of its historical qualities. Militating against this is not only the strong historical sense underlying the whole Gospel but also the Evangelist’s repeatedly emerging—here also—knowledge of historical and local details (cf. 18:31; 19:13, 14).⁶⁰ But clearly this does not relieve our exegesis of the task of dealing with historical questions (see, e.g., the comments on vss. 29 and 31).

This finally brings us to the division of the material. Although it is always difficult to determine whether a division of the material that is acceptable to us is also intended as such by the author, in regard to this pericope there is a clear consensus. It distinguishes seven phases in the trial linked to successive initiatives of Pilate and in part with his “going in” and “going out of” the praetorium, a division that we follow for the most part below.

18:28-32

Jesus Handed Over to Pilate

Verse 28, along with vs. 24, tells us that Jesus, who, bound by Annas, had been taken to the high priest Caiaphas, was sent by the latter to the Roman praetorium. The account is very general, devoid of any details about the situation as such. Those who led Jesus to Pilate (“Then they”) remain anonymous. One must think in the first place of the high priest’s officers (cf. 19:6), but from vss. 28b, 29ff. it is immediately evident that the Jewish authorities are themselves present from the start. Later on there is mention of “the Jews” (vs. 38; 19:7, 12, 14), particularly of the chief priests (19:6, 15) acting as representatives of the Jewish people (cf. 18:35; 19:7), which does not of course mean that the Evangelist holds the whole Jewish nation responsible for Jesus’ death. The case is rather that in John’s account “the crowd” is kept firmly in the background (see below).

By “praetorium” is meant Pilate’s residence, which was also the place where he administered justice. Its location is uncertain. Some scholars identify it with the fortress Antonia situated on the northwest side of the temple square,⁶¹ others with Herod’s palace in the western part of the city near the present-day Jaffa gate.⁶² “It was early” places the events at about 6 a.m., not an unusual time for initiating official actions. 19:14 will mention the “sixth hour” as the time when the trial was drawing to a close, which gives us a period of six hours for the trial as a whole.

While “they,” that is, “the Jews,” brought Jesus to the entrance of the praetorium, “they themselves” did not enter so that they could eat the Passover.⁶³ This comment is meant primarily to explain why the scene keeps changing in what follows (in and out of the praetorium), though one may also read in it the ambivalence of “the Jews”: while they do not shrink from persuading Pilate with all the means at their disposal to sentence Jesus to death, they are most scrupulous in the observation of their formal religious duties. Some commentators see in “that they might eat the Passover” a more specific sense: it was of the utmost importance to them to be able to eat the Passover, but they rejected the true Passover lamb.⁶⁴ But it is questionable whether the Fourth Gospel views Jesus’ death as the death of “the true Passover lamb” (see comments on 1:29ff.; 19:36).

29 Only now the name of Pilate, the Roman prefect of Judea in A.D. 26-36, is mentioned. He is brought on the scene without any further introductory comments. Since Christians knew him as the principal figure in the trial of Jesus (cf. 1 Tm. 6:13), there was no need for the Evangelist to describe him further. Pilate first came out of the praetorium to ask what accusation the Jews had against “this man.” They had evidently taken Jesus to the praetorium without a specific accusation, hoping that Pilate would ratify the death sentence they had already pronounced (cf. vs. 31). But he was not of a mind to act on that intent. Although he was undoubtedly familiar with the controversial figure of Jesus (see the comments on vss. 3 and 33), he took a purely juridical view and wanted to hear the “accusation.”⁶⁵ And since on religious grounds the Jews refused to enter the praetorium and he was apparently well aware of the explosive nature of the issue, he himself came outside to compel them to pursue a more regular judicial procedure than they apparently had in mind.

Some interpreters deem it historically inconceivable that Pilate should—not once but several times⁶⁶—have gone outside the courthouse and in that way conducted the trial. In this some see proof of the total ignorance of the Evangelist concerning what happened,⁶⁷ others the simplification of his narrative style⁶⁸ or his ridicule of the embattled governor.⁶⁹ But such judgments are questionable given the unusual mass appearance of the Jews at the courthouse—and on a feast day! Accordingly, most interpreters judge differently.⁷⁰ In Pilate’s repeated going in and out one may undoubtedly see not so much a precise account of the proceedings as the Evangelist’s presentation of the unfolding events. But considering the six-hour length of the trial and that Pilate twice showed Jesus to the Jews as “king” in his totally pitiable and non-dangerous condition, this movement can hardly be described as the nervous pacing of a caricatured Pilate.

30 The Jews refuse to deal with Pilate’s demand and are even indignant that he makes it: “If this man were not a criminal, we would not have handed him over to you.” The meaning of this reply is variously understood. Two factors seem important: first, the Jews’ aversion to any Roman meddling in their judicial affairs and their endeavor, where it was imposed, to keep it to a minimum⁷¹ and, second, the fact that their real accusation against Jesus—that by making himself out to be the Messiah and the Son of God he was guilty of blasphemy—would fail to convince Pilate that Jesus was a threat to the public order and deserved the death penalty. In the course of the trial they will be forced to state their real complaint against Jesus (19:7). But then it will also become clear how unamenable Pilate is to that point of view. Accordingly, they now speak of “this criminal,” a description by means of which they seek both to impress on Pilate the danger Jesus presents to the public order and at the same time to avoid a concrete charge.

31 But Pilate knows the weakness of their position and takes the opportunity to make them feel it to the full. As if he was agreeing with them, he invites them to try Jesus in accordance with their own law as they understand it, saying, in effect, “If you think your accusation against ‘this man’ does not concern me, then why do you come here?” The Jews cannot respond other than by acknowledging that they lack such jurisdiction: “We are not permitted to put anyone to death.” They allude thus to the rule, known from other contemporary sources and adopted by the Romans with a view to the imperial interest, that death sentences were not to be carried out apart from duly empowered Roman authority. The Jews also thus let Pilate know that they want nothing less than the death of Jesus. Though they have reached this decision behind closed doors, Pilate is of course already aware of it. The Evangelist reflects on this last point in vs. 32.

This interpretation, the one most often followed in the history of exegesis, assumes that the Jews were right—historically speaking—in saying that this rule of Roman law applied to them. Against this interpretation it has been argued that the Sanhedrin as the supreme Jewish judicial authority did have the right to impose the death penalty (the ius gladii et necis) and that the presentation in John 18 cannot be historically correct. Scholars appeal for this opinion to a number of instances in which Jews did carry out the death penalty without the consent of the Roman authorities (e.g., Ac. 7:58-60 [Stephen]; 12:1ff. [James]) or where it is assumed that they could (Ac. 25:9-11; Jn. 8:5ff.; 16:1, 2; Ac. 9:1, 2; 22:4).⁷²

Others have pointed out, on the basis of extensive studies of the administration of law in the Roman provinces, that, however multiform and complex this legislation may have been in the subject provinces, the Romans, with an eye to their imperial self-interest, saw to keeping the death penalty in their own hands.⁷³ The supposed counterexamples are regarded on closer scrutiny as open to more than one interpretation⁷⁴ or as at most exceptions that cannot negate the general rule.⁷⁵ Although there is no consensus on this issue, most commentators are inclined to follow the judgment of those scholars who see in the statement of the Jews in Jn. 18:31 a rule to which they were in fact subject under the Roman administration and which furnishes the historical reason that (according to the whole New Testament tradition) the Sanhedrin handed Jesus over to Pilate.⁷⁶

Another view is that the Jews could, as far as the Romans were concerned, legally carry out the death sentence but that their own law prohibited them from doing so on the Passover.⁷⁷ Against this view, which can already be found in Augustine, there is the weighty and, I believe, conclusive objection that there is not a shred of evidence that the proscription that the text speaks of was limited to feast days or of an appeal to the Jews’ own law.⁷⁸ That interpreters of vs. 31 have often inserted the word “today”⁷⁹ cannot alter the fact that it is not there.

32 As in vs. 9, so also here, the Evangelist interrupts his account by mentioning the “fulfillment” (elsewhere used of Scripture texts) of a saying by Jesus, here with regard to the manner of his death. The reference is to his repeated description of his death as “elevation” (8:28; 12:32, 33; 3:14). He is now moving toward that death now that the Jews must place him in the hands of Pilate, death by crucifixion being a Roman practice. The Evangelist thus implies that this transfer of the case to Pilate does not happen by chance. Not only has Jesus foreseen and foretold the form of death that is to ensue from this, but it is also integral to the divine plan of salvation. As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so also the Son of man “must” be lifted up (3:14). The way in which he will be “elevated” by the Father is also the manner of his ignominious death, death as effected by the Romans. It is in this light that the Evangelist portrays to his readers the now following unfolding of the trial, thus prefacing his account of the actual trial with this preliminary demarcation of the respective “powers.”

18:33-38

The First Interrogation: Jesus’ Kingship

Pilate has won the first battle. He will conduct his own judicial inquiry, and to that end he goes back into the praetorium. The hearing that follows is particularly interesting because it takes place exclusively between Pilate and Jesus: neither the accusers nor, evidently, anyone else (except possibly some of Pilate’s officers) are present. Here again the Evangelist departs from the Synoptics (Mt. 27:12; Mk. 15:3; Lk. 23:2). After summoning Jesus to appear before him, Pilate does begin with the question that, according to the Synoptics as well, dominated the entire trial: “Are you the King of the Jews?” But Jesus’ reply in John is not limited, as in the Synoptics, to a mere “You say so,” but is more extensive, followed by a dialogue about Jesus’ kingship, and totally Johannine (cf. vss. 36ff.). Here as well John does not follow an existing tradition but presents Jesus before Pilate in accordance with his self-revelation in this Gospel as a whole.

With this opening question Pilate, though earlier he has asked the Jews for a formal complaint, proves he knows very well what has prompted “the Jews” to want to rid themselves of Jesus: his messianic claims. But Pilate approaches the issue totally as a Roman. As a non-Jew he speaks of “the king of the Jews,” not “the king of Israel,” as Jews would (cf. Mk. 15:32).⁸⁰ And when he says “king,” he has in mind the political sense of the word. What else in Jesus’ supposed kingship could be of interest to him as Roman governor? One may indeed wonder whether, as he sees Jesus bound before him and can for the first time form an impression of him, his question does not immediately convey a sense of disbelief and astonishment. Is this the man who is claiming to be the king of the Jews?

34, 35 Before answering Pilate’s question Jesus asks whether he is speaking on his own, that is, whether Jesus’ public conduct itself has prompted the question or whether he is acting on the instigation of others. With this counterquestion Jesus obviously seeks to establish that the initiative for this hearing comes not from Pilate but from the Jews. Pilate’s response betrays—at the best—some irritation: “I am not a Jew, am I?”⁸¹ This conveys not so much contempt for Jews as the fact that Pilate does not want to be associated in what he regarded as a purely Jewish affair, as is made clear by what follows (“your own nation and chief priests have handed you over to me”). Pilate refuses to be questioned by Jesus or diverted from the issue at hand. He immediately continues the hearing with a question: “What have you done?” That is, what is Jesus’ crime such that the chief priests, the authorities of Jesus’ people, have found it necessary to hand him over to Pilate?

36 Jesus now answers Pilate’s initial question by speaking of his kingship in the affirmative but at the same time qualifying it in a sense that removes it from what Pilate had in mind. This is the only place in the Fourth Gospel that expressly mentions Jesus’ kingship, and it is here mainly to distinguish Jesus’ kingship from what Pilate has referred to.⁸² When Jesus counters that his kingship (or “kingdom”) “is not from this world,” he describes it thereby as being in origin and nature of another order than the kingship of which Pilate has spoken. Elsewhere Jesus says the same thing with terms like “not from below,” “not of this world” (8:23), “not from here” (vs. 38), or, positively, “from heaven” or “from above.” If it were “from this world,” then his servants,⁸³ that is, the troops that would in that case be at his disposal, would fight to prevent him from falling into the hands of the Jews. The words undoubtedly contain an allusion to Jesus’ arrest, about which Pilate certainly knows (cf. vs. 3).⁸⁴ Jesus reiterates:⁸⁵ “but as it is, my kingdom is not from here,”⁸⁶ as the situation in which he finds himself all too clearly demonstrates.

The history of exegesis and of the church has again and again asked what this pronouncement means for the relationship of those under Jesus’ lordship to worldly governments and the means of power it uses.⁸⁷ The passage does not, in fact, discuss this question. Most commentators have correctly stressed that Jesus’ pronouncement in 18:36 and everything in this pericope that is connected with it (see also the comments on 19:11) do not portray a confrontation of Jesus’ kingdom with the state,⁸⁸ but indicate, rather, that his kingdom is distinct from “the kingdom of this world” at a point of immediate interest: it is not based on force. Although the text does not discuss it further, this implies that the Christian community as well, since it is subject to the rule of Christ, must seek power for its existence and worldly task not in external means but, in Paul’s words, in the “sword” and the “armor” of the Spirit.

This is not to say that the kingdom of Christ and the kingdom of the world, since they are distinct in origin and character, exclude each other or bear no relation to each other.⁸⁹ When Jesus says that his kingdom is “not of this world” as also he and his own are “not of this world” (17:16), he does not thereby deny the positive task that the disciples have in this world (see the comments on 17:15f.) or that the world in its present form (“this world”) is devoid of powers and agencies that uphold it in a positive sense, for example, to establish justice in it against the destructive powers of injustice and oppression—and this also for the benefit of the cause of Christ in the world. Other books of the New Testament (e.g., Ro. 13:1ff.; 2:15; 1 Pt. 2:13f., Tit. 3:1) develop this viewpoint, but the Fourth Gospel does not, though the present pericope contains a clear though indirect proof of this in the position and conduct of Pilate. Even though he handed Jesus over to be crucified and thus committed the gravest possible injustice, his repeated attempts to release Jesus show that as a judge he was aware of his duty to acquit Jesus.

Accordingly, when Jesus contrasts his heavenly kingship with the world’s kingship, he does not thereby portray every worldly regime as totally subject to “the ruler of this world.” Nor does he see no ground for appeal to earthly government on his own behalf or that of his own. Not only does Nicodemus appeal to the existing Jewish legal order on behalf of Jesus (7:51), but Jesus himself, when he is struck by the high priest’s servant, protests and appeals to the rules for a just trial (“bear witness to the wrong,” 18:23).

We cannot therefore draw from Jesus’ rejection of any defense by violence during his arrest the conclusion that he would also demand the total defenselessness of his disciples in times of oppression and that he would reject all use of worldly power for their benefit as incompatible with his kingdom. What is at issue in vs. 36b is that Jesus’ kingdom is based on something other than such power or protection. It is based on his self-surrender, on his offering of himself for the sin of the world.⁹⁰ For that reason, when his “hour” has come, his disciples are not allowed to try to prevent his arrest. And he himself eventually quits trying to answer the charges advanced against him. In distinction from all worldly government, it is only by the power of his Spirit that he establishes his rule in the hearts of humans and admits them to his kingdom (cf. 3:3, 5f.). However much worldly government might want to serve justice, peace, and liberation, it cannot remove the sin of the world, because it has no power over the hearts of human beings.

Accordingly, the place and the calling of the Christian community in the world are determined by its differentness. As citizens not only of this world but also of Jesus’ kingdom, Christians are concerned with the struggle for justice and righteousness, even in the political and social senses of those words, and that not only for the benefit of the church but also for the well-being of the world. But the meaning of their existence as the church in the world does not lie there. The primary focus of their attention and message is otherwise. It is not found in what unites it with “the world” but in what distinguishes it from the world. It is found in what Jesus now (vs. 37) positively describes as the content of his kingship: testimony to the truth as he has heard and received it from the Father.⁹¹

37 Pilate concludes—correctly, though still in the form of a question: “So you are in fact a king?” This time Jesus’ reply is unqualifiedly positive: “As you say I am,” that is, yes, I am a king.⁹² Jesus then explains this further, strongly emphasizing his function: “For this I was born, and for this I came into the world: to testify to the truth.” Jesus’ kingship consists in the utterly unique authority with which he represents the truth in the world. His birth and coming had no other purpose than to “bear witness to the truth,” in the absolute sense in which the Fourth Gospel continually speaks of the truth: Jesus testifies to what “he has seen and heard of the Father” (cf. 3:31-36), indeed to the truth that he himself is (14:6) and for which he answers with his life, person, and work. By speaking of himself as “witness,” Jesus—standing before the judgment seat of Pilate—is using the language of the courtroom (cf. 1 Tm. 6:13), but not as the accused testifying on his own behalf but as the one who, in the suit that God brings against the world, has come to testify against the rule of the lie and for “the truth,” that is, for God and for God’s claim on the world. In that testimony Jesus kingship consists. All who are “of the truth” and “from above” listen to his voice and heed it as God’s people, as those who recognize the voice of the good Shepherd and give evidence of belonging to “his own” (cf. 10:3f.; 16:27; 17:6ff.).

From these last words of vs. 37 it is clear that Jesus has reversed the roles in the trial with his answer to Pilate’s question. He makes no attempt to refute the charge brought against him or to persuade Pilate that he is not a public danger. Instead he is in this trial—indirectly but not for that reason any less clearly—posing the questions that will really bring out the truth. And that for “everyone,” including Pilate. When it comes to the truth, where does Pilate stand as a judge?

38 Pilate’s reaction to Jesus’ words is remarkable. Shrugging his shoulders, in effect, he asks Jesus, “What is truth?” Then (“after he had said this”) he goes outside to the Jews and says to them: “I find no crime in him whatever.” Pilate’s question has been interpreted in a number of ways. Sometimes it is viewed as an expression of philosophical skepticism. But it is doubtful that we can assume such depth—that which would give expression to the futility of a search for truth—in a person like Pilate. Bultmann believes that Pilate here again expresses the neutrality of the state, which can have nothing to do with questions like those that Jesus apparently has in mind.⁹³ But what matters in this pericope, as we have seen, is certainly not a confrontation with the (Roman) state. We therefore prefer to adopt the increasingly accepted view that Pilate chose not to comment on Jesus’ reference—unintelligible to Pilate—to the truth, but in so acting indicated at the same time that he saw no reason in whatever Jesus might mean to take him seriously or even to condemn him for his royal claims.

For the Evangelist Pilate’s question amounts to a rejection of Jesus’ witness.⁹⁴ Still, having heard Jesus, Pilate understands at least enough of the truth to realize that he cannot condemn “this man” to death as a revolutionary. And with this message he now returns to the Jews: “I find no crime in him.” The occasion of the Passover evidently suggests to him that some better arrangement might be made between him and them, the release, that is, of a Jewish prisoner on this day. This might offer a way out of the impasse without too much loss of face for either party. In any case he now presents this solution to the Jews.

18:39-40

Jesus or Barabbas?

39 This part of the passion narrative is in all four Gospels and is characterized in John by summarizing brevity. At some points the Johannine account differs from the presentation in the other Gospels (which also differ from each other in certain details).⁹⁵ In John it is Pilate himself who brings up an existing custom,⁹⁶ conciliatory to the Jews, of releasing a prisoner at the Passover, so that he can release Jesus. So that they will go along with them, he presents this as a favor to them rather than as doing right to Jesus. He calls Jesus “the king of the Jews,” a title suggesting the mockery that Pilate has expressed and will continue to express to the end (cf. 19:14, 15, 19f.) and expressing what he regards as the absurd nature of the charge made by the Jews. But he is prepared, if they agree, not to offend them by completely exonerating Jesus on his own. For that reason he proposes to them the opportunity to extend to their “king” the privilege of release at the Passover. Thus—he apparently reasons—he might spare them the necessity of a humiliating retreat and himself the condemnation of an innocent man.

That in thinking this he is totally misjudging the situation will be evident soon enough. Here, too, however, the Evangelist refrains from commenting on Pilate’s strategic or psychological considerations. What matters for the Evangelist is that on that day and in that way the Jews were confronted with Jesus as “their king.” And indirectly but very tellingly he brings the deeper meaning of this to expression by mention of both the Passover and of Jesus as “the king of the Jews.” The connection can hardly be accidental. The Passover was the ancient festival of Israel’s liberation, and it was on that day that Pilate kept confronting the Jews with the decision of what to do with Jesus, their king. Nowhere more sharply than here does it become apparent that the messianic kingship of Jesus was “foolishness” to the Romans and an “offense” to the Jews (cf. 1 Co. 1:23), nor does the redemptive-historical character of Jesus’ suffering and death come to the fore anywhere more clearly in its decision-demanding significance than in the choice for or against Jesus on this day of the great feast of Israel’s liberation.

40 But the Jews do not allow themselves to be sidetracked by Pilate’s proposed solution. The Evangelist needs only one sentence to put their reaction into words: “They cried out again: ‘Not this man, but Barabbas!’ ” It has not been said before that they “cried out”; from now on (cf. 19:6, 12, 15) their words become simply an emotional demonstration of resistance to Pilate’s attempts to release Jesus. Arguments no longer play a role. “The Jews” increase the pressure on Pilate. It is likely that the growing crowd also plays a role, as one can infer from the Synoptics’ accounts. Still, in John, the subject remains “they,” “the Jews” (19:12, 15) or “the chief priests and their officers” (19:6). Pilate has mentioned their “nation” already in 18:35, and the Evangelist refers to “many of the Jews” as later spectators in 19:20.

Of Barabbas, apart from what is said in vs. 40b, we know only what we are told in Mk. 15:7 (cf. Lk. 20:19), which is that he was in prison with other insurgents who had “committed murder during the insurrection.”⁹⁷ The word we have translated as “insurgent”⁹⁸ can also mean something like “robber” or “thief” (cf. 10:2). But in view of Mk. 15:7 the meaning “revolutionary” or “rebel” against the existing order, which also occurs elsewhere, is more likely (cf. Mt. 26:55). Some suggest that Barabbas may therefore have been a member or even a leader⁹⁹ of the party of the Zealots, who repeatedly committed acts of terrorism.¹⁰⁰ In the end Jesus was to be nailed to the cross as “king of the Jews” between two such revolutionaries (Mt. 27:38; Mk. 15:27).

But John brings out none of this, not even in 19:18. The name of Barabbas comes from nowhere as an opposing candidate against Jesus for release on the Passover. The only thing the Evangelist adds, and this in conclusion to the Barabbas scene, is: “Now Barabbas was an insurgent.” And with that one comment he discloses in a dramatic way the point at which all those who were involved in this “trial of Jesus” had arrived: the Jewish leaders, by choosing a violent revolutionary over Jesus, discard all pretense that their indictment against Jesus arose from concern for maintaining the political and social order. Now Pilate knows that his ambivalent attitude to Jesus has gained almost nothing. Jesus also, drinking the bitter cup that the Father has given him to drink, hears the shouts of the leaders of the people from outside the praetorium: “Not this man, but Barabbas!”

19:1-5

“Here Is the Man!”

1-3 Pilate, seeing that by this route he is not achieving his goal, seizes on another method: he has Jesus scourged. Roman citizens could be scourged only after a verdict, but scourging could be used as a means of interrogation of noncitizens. But Jesus has already “confessed” that he is a king, so Pilate has him scourged to satisfy his accusers, which was also permitted.¹⁰¹ The scourging is followed by the soldiers’ mockery of Jesus (vss. 2, 3).¹⁰² Although the location of these events is not altogether clear, one may infer from vs. 4 that the mockery took place in the praetorium.

Again, the account of the mockery by the soldiers is very brief in comparison with that in Matthew and Mark. The thorns that the soldiers twisted into a wreath and placed on Jesus’ head are clearly intended as mockery of Jesus’ royal dignity. That the thorns were also meant to injure Jesus is not evident here.¹⁰³ The purple robe, also worn by the Roman military,¹⁰⁴ served together with the wreath of thorns to represent royal garments in the cruel game played by the soldiers.

4, 5 In the present context, however, the scourging and mockery function in particular as part of Pilate’s overall tactics. The scourging is meant to give some satisfaction to the Jews, and the sight of the grotesquely dressed Jesus should do even more to convince them how absurd their accusation against Jesus is. Consequently, Pilate goes outside and announces Jesus’ appearance: “Look, I am bringing him out to you to let you know [or “that you may understand”] that I find no crime in him.”

Then follows the dramatic statement: “And Jesus came out, wearing the crown of thorns and the purple robe.” Pilate did not have to add anything other than a sentence that in all its brevity has become immortal: “Here is¹⁰⁵ the man!” By itself this does nothing more than call attention to the figure of Jesus, who is here and elsewhere called “the [or “that”] man.” But here, in the charged scene in which he must now display himself, it means: the man in all his ludicrous unworthiness and wretchedness. Must the Roman governor and the Jewish Sanhedrin continue to quarrel about him as though this man were a threat to the empire?

Some commentators believe that Pilate is trying at this point to arouse the Jews’ compassion.¹⁰⁶ It is doubtful, however, whether he can assume that much humanity in this moment or whether he himself is led by such a motive. He attempts to sway the Jews by presenting Jesus not as pitiable but as worthless. At the same time—and this is clearly the main thrust of the successive phases of the narrative—to save himself from having to make a decision he plunges Jesus deeper into physical and mental degradation. Accordingly, it can hardly be made more clear that the Evangelist does not present Jesus’ suffering simply as a triumphant passage to his exaltation. However great Jesus’ dignity and spiritual inviolability are in standing up to Pilate (cf. also vss. 9ff.), this in no way detracts from the reality of Jesus’ course of suffering. It is therefore not amiss that ecce homo has been taken over in Christian tradition as the catchword for this suffering Messiah.

Some commentators do see ecce homo as a reference to the glory of Jesus. According to this view, Pilate—like Caiaphas in 11:50ff., without realizing it—by using the word “man” (ἄνθρωπος), was identifying Jesus as “the Son of man,” the judge of the world clothed by God with all power.¹⁰⁷ Others see in “the man” an allusion to the incarnation, which is said to have “become visible [here] in its extremest consequence.”¹⁰⁸ The text itself has no trace of all this—unlike Caiaphas’s statement, that is, in the reference to his high priesthood (11:51). It is hard to imagine on what ground the Evangelist could have attributed such a prophetic gift to Pilate.

19:6-11

The Second Interrogation: The Heart of the Issue

6, 7 On “the chief priests and the officers,” however, this entire display makes no impression in Jesus’ favor at all. Rather, the spectacle (“when they saw him”) of Jesus ravaged by scourging and mockery becomes an incentive to risk everything. Now they demand Jesus’ death, and that by way of the death penalty as the Romans applied it to a hardened criminal: death on a cross.

It can hardly be accidental that the Evangelist no longer speaks in general of “the Jews” but of “the chief priests,” who, along with “the officers” under their command, are the first to cry out, “Crucify him!” Thus the most aristocratic representatives of the Sanhedrin press their demand. As the Evangelist has repeatedly shown, opposition to Jesus lay not with the people but with these leaders. The true nature of their motives can no longer remain hidden. When Pilate once more attests Jesus’ innocence and seeks to shift responsibility for Jesus’ crucifixion to them (“Take him yourselves and crucify him”), the members of the Sanhedrin reach for their last device: the appeal to their own law. Undoubtedly they do this with great reluctance since it exposes their real motives to Pilate. For now it is clear that their real complaint against Jesus is what they have accused him of, namely the political danger he poses, but that, according to their own law, by “making himself the Son of God” he deserves the death penalty as a blasphemer.

The Evangelist’s narrative comes to a head with this new accusation. And now, in the final conversation between Pilate and Jesus (vss. 9-11), everything is concentrated. The key redemptive-historical issue in this trial is not whether Jesus is being indicted and condemned under false pretenses, but whether he is who he claims to be: the Son of God, the Messiah sent to Israel, and therefore whether the Jews can rightly, on the basis of their own law, demand his death (cf. Lv. 24:16). This charge has been behind the Jews’ confrontation with Jesus from the beginning (cf. 5:18; 10:33, 36), and for this they now demand the death penalty from Pilate.

8 “When Pilate heard this, he was the more afraid.” Some commentators read this as an indication of Pilate’s dread of the supernatural in the figure of Jesus.¹⁰⁹ The idea is that in his first conversation with Jesus he was already impressed by Jesus’ supernatural dignity and that now, hearing the Jews speaking of “the Son of God,” he is restrained all the more from convicting Jesus. But of such fear in his earlier conversation with Jesus—to which “more” would refer—there is no evidence (cf. 18:38),¹¹⁰ nor is there evidence of such fear in what follows (cf. vs. 20). For that reason we far prefer the view according to which Pilate’s fear arose from his increasing uneasiness at being driven by the Jews into a position from which he had less and less of a way of extricating himself.¹¹¹ He knows, after all, their fanaticism when things concern “their law,” and especially in an issue that so deeply touches them as the present one.

9-11 Even now he tries to escape the decision. Instead of ruling that this accusation is outside his jurisdiction, he again (as in 18:33) withdraws with Jesus into the praetorium. He addresses the accusation by asking Jesus, “Where are you from?” That was the fundamental question not only in the conflict between Jesus and the Jews but for the whole world’s understanding of people. Jesus no longer answers Pilate’s question. Earlier, when Pilate was questioning him about kingship, Jesus has already told of his origin (18:36). He has not left Pilate in the dark about what motivates him and has in Pilate’s presence appealed to the Truth that he represents. But now he is silent. He does not recognize Pilate as a judge in this new matter. Pilate, incensed at this silence, says, “Don’t you understand that I have power to release you, and power to crucify you?” Jesus makes one final statement and lays bare the actual situation of the moment: “You would have no power over me unless it had been given to you from above.”

Commentators both ancient¹¹² and modern¹¹³ have understood this statement to refer to the divine institution of government as it is spoken of in Romans 13. But in more recent exegesis this has been replaced, correctly we think, by the view that it relates to the concrete situation, that is, to Pilate’s power to release Jesus or to crucify him.¹¹⁴ For that reason the divine background of Pilate’s power is described as “given from above.” Jesus’ kingdom has just been described as “not from this world” (18:36), and Jesus has repeatedly described the origin of his own coming and work as “from above.” It is “from above” that Pilate also has received his power and in that context that he plays his divinely given role.¹¹⁵ By saying this Jesus not only explains Pilate’s position but also his own. In that providential arrangement, “given from above,” Pilate’s interrogation of Jesus is a stage in the process in which Pilate himself must fulfill the will of God. Therefore, Jesus is in God’s hands and not in Pilate’s. He keeps silent because he must drink the cup that the Father has given him to drink. Part of that cup is the necessity of submitting to Pilate’s arbitrary use of power and letting himself be crucified as a criminal, thus bearing “the sin of the world” (1:29), being “made to be sin” by God (2 Co. 5:21).

This does not of course exculpate Pilate as an unjust judge. But in saying this Jesus does point to the larger contexts that help shape and limit Pilate’s guilt. “Therefore,” he continues, “he who delivered me to you has the greater sin.” Striking here is the use of the singular. Some scholars have thought of Caiaphas; others of Judas or Satan. But Judas no longer plays any role at this point, Caiaphas is no longer the dominant figure, and Pilate’s sin can hardly be compared with that of Satan. The reference is clearly to the Jews who have handed Jesus over to Pilate.¹¹⁶ Their sin is greater than that of Pilate because they are much more deeply involved than he is in what is now taking place at his judgment seat. And this not only because they have instigated the trial but much more because it was in their midst that Jesus spoke his word and did his signs and because their law contained everything by which they could and should have recognized Jesus as the one sent by the Father.

In this light we can again see the shallowness of the view that to exonerate the Romans the Evangelist, in this statement, lays the blame for Jesus’ death so much less on Pilate and so much more on the Jews.¹¹⁷ What the Evangelist is expressing in this often-cited passage is not a political but a redemptive-historical judgment upon the Jewish leaders. And even as he makes this judgment, his portrayal of Pilate makes it clear that means no compliment to the Romans.

19:12-16a

Jesus Condemned

12 From this point on everything presses toward a denouement. After the final exchange (vss. 9-11) Pilate no longer considers further examination necessary and now makes every effort¹¹⁸ to release Jesus. The word “tried,” meanwhile, indicates that he was conscious of resistance.

Suddenly, however, “the Jews” are also on the scene. It is not clear how one must picture this transition. They were outside and so have not witnessed the conversation between Jesus and Pilate and do not know of Pilate’s intentions. But somehow they understand that what has gone on inside is in danger of taking the wrong turn and that they must play their last cards against Pilate. With Pilate still in the praetorium with Jesus (cf. vs. 13), “the Jews” air their impatience by raising an outcry, focused no longer on Jesus but on Pilate’s political position, specifically the support he enjoys in Rome: “If you release this man, you are no longer Caesar’s friend. Everyone who claims to be a king sets himself against the emperor.”¹¹⁹

Nowadays scholars assume that “Caesar’s friend” refers not simply to the emperor’s favor but is a formal title of honor (amicus Caesari) that is said to have been accorded to Pilate and that obviously was very valuable to him.¹²⁰ The emperor of that time, Tiberius, was inclined to be suspicious of anything that could threaten his hegemony. So, whether or not the words represent a title,¹²¹ it is clear how strong a weapon they were against Pilate.

13, 14a From Pilate’s conduct it is immediately evident how effective this ploy is. He understands all too well that this was not an empty threat. “The Jews” would know how to find their way to Rome to hurt his political career. At once matters take a turn: “When Pilate heard these words, he brought Jesus out and sat down on the judgment seat.” He knew the decision now had to be made, and he proceeded to bring it about in accordance with the judicial pattern given for that purpose:¹²² indictment first (vs. 14b), then request of penalty (vs. 15), then finally the verdict (vs. 16). The text does not describe this process in formal judicial formulas but in terms of the continued dialogue between Pilate and the Jews. Pilate again pours out his scorn on the Jews and depicts the absurdity of their indictment and demand. But in the end he sees no way out other than to condemn Jesus.

According to another interpretation of vss. 12-16, ἐκάθισεν (“he sat”) should be translated transitively and in connection with the preceding clause: “He brought Jesus out and sat him down on the judgment seat” to present him to the Jews, as in vs. 5, as the mock king.¹²³ Some see in this the even deeper meaning that as the Son of man Jesus is the last and highest Judge and that, without knowing it, Pilate gives Jesus the place that is due him.¹²⁴

Still, the transitive interpretation of ἐκάθισεν, with however much talent it is defended, is certainly incorrect. The idea that Pilate, as though Jesus had not yet been sufficiently presented to the Jews as mock king, should to that end have used his judgment seat, the symbol of his own dignity as the emperor’s representative (cf. “Caesar’s tribunal” in Ac. 25:10), is totally implausible. What would the emperor, whose favor so much concerned Pilate, have thought of that? How, under these circumstances, could the trial be brought to an end? With Jesus on the judgment seat while Pilate, standing alongside, gave the verdict? The whole procedure itself would have become a laughingstock. That was certainly not Pilate’s intent, nor that of the Evangelist, as the following words show.

The Evangelist marks the historical significance of the condemnation of Jesus by expressly establishing the location of Pilate’s judgment seat and hence of the trial and the time. The place is called “Lithostrotos” or “Gabbatha” in “Hebrew” (i.e., Aramaic); the former means something like “tiled place,” but the meaning of the latter is uncertain because of disagreement about the Semitic word or stem from which “Gabbatha” is derived.¹²⁵ Because of uncertainty concerning the location of the praetorium (see the comments on vs. 28), the place meant here can no longer be identified with certainty.

There is also a significant difference of opinion, connected with the dating of the Passover in John, concerning the time reference in vs. 14: “Now it was the day of Preparation for the Passover.” We take “preparation” (παρασκευή) to be the fixed name for the day before the sabbath, hence “Friday.” The addition of “Passover” then makes this a reference to the Friday during Passover. Accordingly, Pilate’s sentencing of Jesus fell on the Friday of the great feast of liberation itself and is meant to be understood in that context (see the comments on vs. 39; 13:1).¹²⁶

14b-16 Pilate’s first words from the judgment seat are, “Here is your king.” Now that the verdict has been given, the court must first decide what crime the accused has committed. To this end Pilate traces everything to Jesus’ kingship and therefore presents Jesus to the Jews under the heading of their own accusation. But by calling the abused and degraded Jesus “your king” he is again confronting the Jews—with undisguised mockery—with the absurdity of their accusation: “Here, then, is your king whose claims you take so seriously that even the emperor in Rome has to be on his guard!”

But the Jews (vs. 15), now that they have come so far—with Pilate on the judgment seat!—no longer allow themselves to be put off by his mockery and anger. They have not another word to say for Jesus or his kingship except this one thing that in their anger they shout at Pilate: “Away with him, away with him, crucify him!”

Pilate already knows he has lost the battle. But he does not capitulate before once more deeply offending their national pride: “Must I then crucify your king?”—plunge the king of the Jews into the deepest disgrace? But the chief priests catch Pilate in his own words and reverse the roles. He may make light of it, but they cannot regard those who make themselves out to be kings as so unimportant. So, as though he has fallen behind them in loyalty to the only legitimate king, they answer, “We have no king but the emperor.”

That the members of the Sanhedrin could hardly have struck a more cynical pose than that of loyal subjects of the emperor could not have escaped them. But there was no more effective way than this to outmaneuver Pilate in the game he played with the one he calls their king. Though he knew from long experience with the Jews the hypocrisy of this sudden loyalty to the emperor, he understood from this renewed mention of the emperor that all further delay was futile and could even get him into trouble. For that reason vs. 16 simply reports: “Then he handed him over to them to be crucified.” This means not that he literally placed Jesus in their hands (see the comments on vss. 16b, 23) but that by judicial pronouncement he granted the Jews what they had asked for.

One can only admire the masterly way in which the Evangelist has described the stages, all leading to this climax, of the power struggle between Pilate and the Jews. What has been at stake from the beginning is Jesus’ condemnation to death by crucifixion. It is neither the intrigue on both sides, nor Pilate’s unprincipled conduct, nor the Sanhedrin’s fanaticism, with however much dramatic and psychological talent they are depicted, that constitute the actual subject of the Evangelist. Nor is his concern to give a new answer to who was to blame for the decision to crucify Jesus. Striking, rather, is the fact that in this account every sign of moral, psychological, or juridical disqualification is absent. The Evangelist’s aim is to describe the way Jesus had to go in obedience to the Father and the cup the Father gave him to drink. That is what Jesus himself impresses on Pilate: “You would have no power over me if it was not given to you from above.” Viewed in that light, the cruel and disgraceful way in which Pilate and the Jews played their game with Jesus is not a farce or a sham in which human guilt and responsibility hardly count any more (see vs. 11b!) or one describable as a felix culpa. It is rather the depth of the incarnation of the Word and the descent of the Son of man in its most extreme consequences that the Evangelist depicts in this sober and realistic narrative. But he does this to portray not a powerless victim given over to human caprice but the one who in his obedience to the Father has the “power” to lay down his life, the Lamb of God who takes the sin of the world on himself and bears it away (cf. 1:29, 36).

19:16b-27

“Crucified …”

The last part of the passion narrative (19:16b-42) opens with the account of Jesus’ crucifixion. In contrast with the lengthy account of the trial before Pilate (18:28–19:12) and with the Synoptic account of the crucifixion, this last part is very concise. Here again John’s selective independence comes to the fore. John lacks various passages known from the Synoptics,¹²⁷ but also includes features and information that we find in none of the other Gospels—specifically, the dispute between the Jews and Pilate over the inscription, Jesus’ last will with respect to his mother, and the lengthy account of his death in vss. 31-37. Even where John and the Synoptics agree, the differences in how John conveys it are striking. Especially striking, finally, are John’s appeal to eyewitness testimony (vs. 35) and his mention of the disciple whom Jesus loved (vs. 26). These are, in my opinion, indications that can shed more light on the origin and independence of the Johannine tradition than attempts, made here also, to determine the difference between the wording of the Evangelist himself and his (hypothetical) written source(s).

16b-18 Immediately after Pilate’s decision, it is carried out. The anonymous “they” who take the initiative in this regard can only be the Roman soldiers (cf. vs. 23). From this moment on Jesus is completely in their hands, and the Jews can only watch (vs. 21). Jesus, carrying his own cross,¹²⁸ goes out of the city to “The Place of the Skull,”¹²⁹ which is called “Golgotha” in “Hebrew” (i.e., Aramaic), apparently an elevated location with a round, bare shape¹³⁰ that today is usually pointed out in the Church of the Sepulchre, not far outside the city wall of that day (the “second” wall; cf. vs. 20).

“There they crucified him” (vs. 18). The execution itself, an extremely cruel procedure, is not described.¹³¹ The manner in which it was carried out was not always equally cruel. Some victims were tied to the upright pole, but Jesus is nailed to the cross (cf. 20:27). The Evangelists abstain from any attempt to describe this barbaric procedure, which could not be used against Roman citizens. The New Testament has no trace of any passion mysticism oriented to the physical torture of Jesus.¹³² “Two others” were also crucified, men not here described as criminals, “one on either side, with Jesus between them.” This last point indicates that Jesus was the most prominent of the three. He, after all, was “the king of the Jews.”

19-22 Pilate has an inscription placed on the cross stating the reason for Jesus’ execution. A sign indicating the crime would be hung around the neck of a criminal on the way to execution. It was probably this sign that Pilate had the soldiers attach to the cross, so that Jesus’ crime could be known to all.

This matter occasioned still another conflict between Pilate and the chief priests. The inscription Pilate ordered read: “Jesus the Nazarene, the King of the Jews.”¹³³ Because of the proximity of the place of execution to Jerusalem “many of the Jews” in the city, which was filled with visitors for the Passover, read the inscription. Here “the Jews” are obviously not those who were hostile to Jesus but rather the masses, who were by and large ignorant of what had taken place inside and around Pilate’s praetorium and who were thus all at once confronted not only with Jesus’ execution but also with the disgraceful way (for him and for them) in which he was displayed as their king. Pilated added to the offense by, in order to give the matter the widest possible publicity, having the inscription written up in three languages: “Hebrew” (Aramaic), Latin, and Greek: the local vernacular, the official language, and the language of common international communication.

Pilate had given the matter careful thought and thus paid back the Jews for forcing him to act against his will. If Jesus, with his royal pretensions, was indeed so dangerous that he deserved to die on the cross, then the whole world would know what his crime was. No wonder that the chief priests (vs. 21) came to Pilate to protest this. Now it seemed that Jesus would indeed be displayed before the whole world as their king and go down in history as such. They asked, therefore, that the inscription be changed to say that Jesus only claimed to be the king of the Jews. But Pilate (vs. 22) was no longer interested in being conciliatory. They should have thought of this matter when he told them he could not take Jesus’ kingship seriously. So his last word, brief and to the point, was: “What I have written I have written.”¹³⁴ Having said that he left them with their “king.”

In this remarkable detail, which occurs only in John, we see the continuation of the line that runs through the entire trial before Pilate: he can still not exercise any power other than what has been “given from above” (vs. 11). What he was unwilling to undo—let the crucified Jesus of Nazareth be identified as the Messiah, the king of Israel—is, in fact, the pivotal issue in the entire passion narrative. And this is so in what follows, as Pilate and “the Jews” recede to the background and the focus is shifted to the crucified Jesus himself. For the Scriptures had not yet been fulfilled in him (vss. 23-25), and he had not yet said and done everything that he would say and do before he knew that “all was now completed” (vss. 25-27, 28).

23, 24 The soldiers are mentioned explicitly here again for the first time since vs. 2. After they have crucified Jesus, then, as their last item of business, they divide his garments among themselves, which they are entitled to as those who have carried out the crucifixion. Jesus’ inner garment¹³⁵ is mentioned separately because it was “seamless, woven in one piece from the top.”¹³⁶ The soldiers decide to leave it intact and to cast lots for it. The Synoptic Gospels mention neither this detail nor the fulfillment of Scripture,¹³⁷ which the Fourth Evangelist is concerned to stress and one of the few particulars that he includes in his account of the crucifixion. He cites for this purpose Ps. 22:19, entirely in conformity with the Septuagint.¹³⁸ In the Psalm the poet graphically depicts his hopeless situation: his enemies, into whose hands he has fallen, are already at work dividing and casting lots for his clothes—which are all he has left to him—before leaving him behind half dead. The Evangelist uses the formula “this was to fulfill the Scripture” to indicate that the divine work of salvation anticipated by the suffering and (temporary) redemption of Old Testament believers¹³⁹ has its final and imperishable fulfillment in Jesus’ descent, including his suffering on the cross, and in his exaltation.

The closing words, “and that is what the soldiers did,” are judged by some interpreters to be superfluous, but taken by others as a meaningful contrast to what follows regarding the women standing by the cross.¹⁴⁰ But these words are rather meant to underscore the importance of the preceding passage, which the Evangelist, skipping over several other key moments in Jesus’ suffering on the cross, includes in his narrative before describing its last phase. What these four unknown Roman soldiers did was nothing other and nothing less than to fulfill what was written about Jesus, that is, about the last thing that anyone could do to him before he died. “And that is what the soldiers did.” All that follows is what Jesus himself must still bring to fulfillment before he knows that “all is accomplished” and can bow his head (vss. 28, 30).

25-27 This last deed is Jesus’ testamentary disposition with respect to his mother and the disciple whom he loves. The presence of a number of women is also reported in the Synoptics (though after Jesus’ death has been reported). The four named here are Jesus’ mother, her sister, Mary the wife (or mother or daughter) of Clopas,¹⁴¹ and Mary Magdalene.¹⁴²

The Synoptics agree, with certainty, only with respect to Mary Magdalene. But it is possible that Matthew’s “the mother of the sons of Zebedee” (“Salome” in Mark) was the sister of Jesus’ mother mentioned in John. In this case, John the son of Zebedee would be a cousin of Jesus, which would be an important datum in the ongoing discussion of the identity of “the disciple whom Jesus loved” and would offer a ready explanation why Jesus entrusted his mother to this disciple. Although we cannot speak with certainty here, and some scholars do advance objections to this identification,¹⁴³ it was and is defended by some, precisely with a view to the authorship of the Fourth Gospel.¹⁴⁴

These women “were standing by the cross.” In the Synoptics we read that they were “looking on from a distance” to see what was happening. Of course, this does not exclude the possibility that before Jesus died they came closer (cf. also vs. 35). We are only told that Jesus “saw his mother”—along with “the disciple whom he loved,” who was apparently with the women. Jesus once more speaks to these two, first to his mother, “Woman, here is your son,” then to the disciple, “Here is your mother.”

Many—particularly Protestant—interpreters restrict the significance of this passage to Jesus personally caring for his mother;¹⁴⁵ an interpretation sometimes combined with lengthy statements on the example of Jesus’ love as, in obedience to the Father, he forgets himself and does not neglect his obligations to his mother.¹⁴⁶ (Of course, the words of this text have prompted many others to make the figure of Mary the subject of deeply devout meditation: Stabat mater dolorosa.…) And commentators have often sought some explanation for Jesus’ statement to “the disciple whom he loved” in the negative attitude of Jesus’ own brothers (cf. 7:5), who are said to have prompted him to designate this disciple as the future caretaker of his mother.¹⁴⁷

It is doubtful, however, that the meaning of this narrative is limited to this personal dimension—however much that aspect is present. The Evangelist’s focus is elsewhere.¹⁴⁸ However deep the sorrow in which Jesus sees his mother standing by the cross (cf. Lk. 2:35), that is not what he speaks to her about. All he says, with extreme brevity, is: “Woman, here is your son.” He refrains from calling her “mother,” he asks her to relinquish him as son, and he refers her to the disciple standing by her as the one who will take his place. All this recalls 2:4—the only other context in which Mary appears in John’s Gospel—where Jesus rebuffs his mother with the same form of address because his “hour” (the “hour” of the manifestation of his glory, 2:11) has not yet come, the hour she has anticipated.¹⁴⁹ Now again they face an “hour” that is decisive for both (vs. 27),¹⁵⁰ an hour in which as Jesus’ mother she must again step back in submission to the law of life that the Father has set for her son and in which she, like every other disciple of Jesus, must also know her place (cf. 12:25f.; 13:16).

At the same time this seemingly detached incident implies that the bond that Mary has had with Jesus, though from now on it will be terminated, will be continued in another way. Jesus chooses his words with the utmost care and economy, so charging them with all the more meaning. What Mary gives up and what she receives are expressed in one and the same statement: “Here is your son.” “Here is your mother” does not mean—as has been asserted over and over in the history of interpretation—that from now on Mary will exercise her motherhood over this disciple, but rather that this disciple will from now on be a son to her, showing her the care that a mother needs from her son. As Jesus dies, he replaces himself with the disciple whom he loves, and that in accordance with the apostolic rule “he who receives you receives me” (cf. 13:20; Mt. 10:40), which in this extreme situation he applies to both Mary and that disciple. He does not name this disciple as son to his own mother because Mary otherwise will lack friends or relatives to give her a loving welcome. People whose names are given are standing around her. He does it rather because this disciple is the one with whom he can identify himself as son of his mother and in whom Mary can find her son back.

What gives unique significance to this passage in the Fourth Gospel is not, therefore, that Jesus still regulates his family relations in an act in which the disciple whom Jesus loves is introduced from outside in order, for lack of a better, to assume a leading role in it. It is, rather, that in these two persons, in this final moment, Jesus’ love is extended in a much deeper and wider way to those whom he has loved in the world (cf. 13:1ff.), in a way that will be determinative for their entire future fellowship. For in the relationship that the dying Jesus establishes between these two persons, who of all of them were the closest to him, he paradigmatically contracts the image of the coming community that he is leaving behind on earth, but also bringing under the care that in his time on earth he has provided, and through which in the new dispensation after his death he himself will continue his work. Both Mary his mother and the disciple whom he loves represent in the most authentic manner this new community: Mary will from this moment on step back as his mother and uniquely reflect the image of the community that remains behind on earth. The disciple whom Jesus loves no less significantly represents those whom Jesus has bound to himself from the beginning to be his witnesses and to continue his work on earth. This disciple was the one in whom Jesus, when the hour of their separation had come, had confided in particular, who alone had followed him until this very moment, and who was to be the witness par excellence of Jesus’ death and on account of this special bond was destined by Jesus to occupy a permanent place in the coming community (cf. 1:37ff.; 13:23ff.; 18:15; 19:26; 21:20, 23, 24).

It is in this light that we must view Jesus’ final statements to these two and the words with which the Evangelist concludes this passage: “And from that hour the disciple took her into his own home.”¹⁵¹ This is not merely a historical note pertaining to Mary’s place of residence after Jesus’ death but a salvation-historical reference—in the manner of the Fourth Gospel—to the new “family of God” that from that hour took form as a result of Jesus’ final testamentary disposition. In this manner alone can we fully understand why the Evangelist has this particular incident as the final act of the redemptive event of Jesus’ suffering and death. “After this”—after Jesus had uttered those words—“Jesus knew that all was now finished” (vs. 28).

With this explanation we distance ourselves from two other interpretations that—with a number of variations—have sought the point of this passage either in an idealized understanding of Mary or in the disciple whom Jesus loved as symbolic ideal figure of the later (“Johannine”) community.

Attempts have been made in a vast literature to find support in this passage for the understanding of Mary as the mother of the church, which has developed since the twelfth century. This support has been sought specifically in Jesus’ statement to the disciple, “here is your mother,” and in what follows: “And from that hour he took her into his own home.” This is taken to mean that Mary’s motherhood continues in the church, which is symbolically represented by the place she occupies in the disciple’s house. On this foundation widely varying attempts have been made to define the nature of this motherhood in terms of these statements or, more precisely, to link a variety of mariological conceptions to these statements.¹⁵² Discussion of these suggestions and speculations comes to have little meaning when one recognizes that the mariological interpretation of “this is your mother” is contradicted by the entire situation. Mary is placed in the care of the beloved disciple, as is evident also from the concluding statement in vs. 27b.¹⁵³ Mary does not take the disciple into her house; he takes her into his.

Some commentators who reject the mariological interpretation prefer to connect the deeper meaning of this passage with the significance of the beloved disciple for the coming community. Here, too, as elsewhere (see the comments on 13:23ff.), however, they ascribe to his conduct not historical but merely symbolic significance. This occurs most radically, of course, when the whole figure of the beloved disciple is viewed as a symbol and denied all historicity. For example, Bultmann regards this disciple as the symbolic representation of Gentile Christianity. In this incident at the cross, then, Mary symbolizes Jewish Christianity that overcomes the offense of the cross. The Gentile Christianity represented by the beloved disciple is charged to honor this Jewish Christianity as its mother from whom it has come, while Jewish Christianity is charged to let itself be taken up and integrated into the “home” of Gentile Christianity, that is, into the membership of the one great fellowship of the church.¹⁵⁴ But this view has found virtually no support because neither here nor elsewhere in the text can one find any point of contact for this supposed typically Gentile Christian character of the beloved disciple. The contrary, we daresay, is the case.¹⁵⁵

Others also see in the disciple whom Jesus loved, here as in 13:23ff., a figure from the later (Johannine) community, its founder perhaps, but one who in the Gospel plays a nonhistorical, symbolic role, that of the ideal disciple projected back into the life of Jesus—all this, of course, to confirm his authority and the significance of the community he represents. In this passage he is that “ideal disciple”; he, with the community he founded (“his house”), already have this significance, which is normative also for other Christians. On the significance (“symbolic,” of course) to be accorded to Mary in this connection, opinions again vary widely.¹⁵⁶

Even apart from the problems that occur in connection with this last point,¹⁵⁷ this idealistic-symbolic interpretation meets with what we regard as insuperable objections, as it has already in connection with 13:23ff. First, the arguments against the historicity of this passage are so unconvincing that they cannot bear the weight of the symbolic view.¹⁵⁸ Second, this abrupt transition of genre from historical narrative to symbolic narrative is a significant exegetical problem, particularly since the immediately following verses lay so much stress on the eyewitness report of the same disciple (vs. 35). And third, this symbolization is also a radical theological shift in the point of the story. Mary and the beloved disciple symbolize—in the final act of the dying Jesus in his love for his own to the end—the ideal disciple and the community he founded. The christological perspective is thus no longer primary and dominant but receives its content from ecclesiology, a reversal that may well be called crucial in the interpretation of the whole Gospel.

19:28-37

“… Died …”

28 As already noted in our comments on vss. 26f., it is clear from the introductory words of this new pericope how much meaning the Evangelist attaches to Jesus’ words of farewell to Mary and his beloved disciple in the framework of the work of salvation that Jesus has been sent to accomplish. This has been the concluding act of that work, and it leaves nothing more to do for the completion of that work.¹⁵⁹

Nevertheless, between the reference to Jesus knowing that “all was finished” (vs. 28a; cf. 13:1; 18:4) and his statement “it is finished” in vs. 30 is inserted the passage about his thirst. Mark and Matthew also mention Jesus’ thirst, but with no words from Jesus or reference to Scripture. Here it is the reference to Scripture that stands in the foreground as the motive of Jesus’ complaint about thirst: “that Scripture should come to its (final) fulfillment.”¹⁶⁰ The intent is not to add something to the preceding “all was now finished” but to show how Jesus, even in his final moments when there was nothing more left for him “to do,” still in his thirst, one of the most terrible torments of death by crucifixion, fulfilled Scripture. Although Ps. 69:21 is clearly in mind here (see the comments on vs. 29), it is not quoted. This may suggest that the reference is not to fulfillment of a specific detail but to the entire picture of the suffering righteous one in Psalm 69, which John repeatedly cites (cf. 2:17; 15:25; see, however, also Ps. 22:15).

In describing the depth of Jesus’ suffering the Fourth Gospel nowhere comes closer to the final word on the cross in Matthew and Mark, Ps. 22:1, than he does here.¹⁶¹ Although it is probably characteristic for the Fourth Gospel that the word of extreme forsakenness in Psalm 22 is lacking, from vs. 28 it is again evident (cf., e.g., 18:11) that the regal power and authority—so prominent in John—with which Jesus accepts his suffering and goes out to meet his enemies in no way means that he is fundamentally immune to that suffering and passes through it unaffected. “I thirst” is not a proof of how strictly Jesus fulfilled Scripture but a lament wrung from him out of the depth of his suffering in which his solidarity with those who had lamented their suffering in Scripture consists above all in the fact that he and they took their suffering to God and laid it out before him (e.g., Pss. 69:19; 63:1). That Jesus knew, better than anyone else before or after him, that in his suffering he was fulfilling a divine calling is evident from his last word on the cross (vs. 30). But this in no way detracts from the deep reality of his suffering and solidarity with his own. It is rather the very foundation of Jesus’ last word.¹⁶²

29 The details described here, specifically the “sour wine”¹⁶³ offered to Jesus, refer to Ps. 69:21 (“For my thirst they gave me vinegar to drink”).¹⁶⁴ In Psalm 69 the presentation of this drink is an act of hostility to aggravate suffering (possibly because of its effect; “poison for food, vinegar for my thirst”). Here it evidently does not have that connotation. All the stress is on Jesus’ thirst and the soldiers’ response.¹⁶⁵ Admittedly, the manner in which the drink is offered does depict the extremity of Jesus’ situation. A sponge soaked in sour wine is attached to the top of a stalk of hyssop¹⁶⁶ and so held to Jesus’ mouth as the only way to give him a drink.

30 With this, however, the end came for Jesus. After saying “It is finished,” “he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.” This whole scene typifies his death as a final act of self-offering done after he had finished the work that God had given him to do (17:4; cf. 4:34; 13:3; 10:18; 14:31). It is also to this act that the “all” of vs. 28 refers. Accordingly, we cannot weaken “It is finished” by hearing in it only a sigh of relief that the end had been reached or as an indication of the personal completion that Jesus is said to have reached on his journey.¹⁶⁷ It is precisely as a reference to the task the Father gave Jesus to perform that this cry indicated for him not only the end of the road that he had to travel but also the completed work of salvation that he had accomplished for his own as the new foundation laid once for all for the life of the world.¹⁶⁸

31 The now following section, which is continued in the narrative of the burial in vss. 38-42, is devoted to the question: “What happened to Jesus’ body?”¹⁶⁹ First it is the Jews in their request to Pilate, then the soldiers at Pilate’s behest, and finally Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus who, each in their own way, play a role in what happened to Jesus’ body.

First, then, “the Jews,” that is, here again, the leaders of the people, who had closely followed the course of events (cf. vs. 21). What caused them concern—since it was the day of preparation (Friday) and the sabbath was at hand—was that the bodies of those who had been crucified would remain on the crosses on the Sabbath. And since “the day of that sabbath”¹⁷⁰ was “great”—a designation that was especially applied to the sabbath on which the firstfruits were brought (Lv. 23:11; see below), they again turned to Pilate, this time with the respectable request that “the legs¹⁷¹ of the crucified men might be broken and their bodies removed [from the crosses].” The custom was to break the legs with a heavy mallet (the crurifragium) to thus—however horribly—end their suffering, but the Romans did not always do this. Sometimes, as a deterrent to other malefactors, they left those they had crucified hanging on the cross until they had died, and after. For “the Jews” apparently only respect for the coming great sabbath played a role. According to the law of Moses, to which the practice of crucifixion is not known, a hanged person, regardless of the day, could not be left hanging into the night (Dt. 21:22). We are not told whether the Jews, in making their request to Pilate, explicitly referred to the sabbath. In any case Pilate acceded to their request.

Indirectly vs. 31, as stated earlier (see the comments on 13:1ff.), contains an important indication that Jesus died on the fifteenth of Nisan. If the day on which the firstfruits were dedicated—according to the Pharisaic tradition, the sixteenth of Nisan—coincided with the sabbath, then people spoke of “the great sabbath.” Therefore the day that preceded this sabbath, the day on which Jesus was crucified must have been the fifteenth of Nisan.

32-34 But Jesus, unlike the other men who had been crucified with him, had already died. The soldiers who were charged to carry out the Jews’ request, observing this, did not break Jesus’ legs. Before further commenting on this fact, the Evangelist first mentions something that was no less important to him, namely that one of the soldiers, apparently to be sure Jesus was dead, thrust his spear into Jesus’ side, and “at once blood and water came out.”¹⁷²

These last words are interpreted in very different ways. Some regard the occurrence as a miracle of profound significance: the streams of blood and water that flowed from Jesus’ dead body are said to indicate supernaturally the two sacraments of baptism and eucharist.¹⁷³ But there is no reason for thinking of a miracle here. What we are told need not mean any more than that a bloody and watery substance came out of the spear wound, which to those present confirmed that Jesus was dead. It is doubtful that the occurrence conceals any deeper meaning. A connection with 7:38¹⁷⁴ does not establish this deeper meaning because the words used there (“out of his belly will flow”) refer not to Jesus but to the operation of the Spirit in believers.¹⁷⁵ A connection with 1 Jn. 5:6,¹⁷⁶ which mentions blood and water (though in reverse order), or with other passages in which water or the blood of Jesus appear in metaphors for redemption is too often made only on the basis of a similarity in the sounds of the words. And when the Evangelist comes to explain the redemptive significance of what occurred with the body of Jesus in the light of Scripture and as seen by an eyewitness (vss. 36f.), he mentions only that Jesus’ body was pierced and that his bones were not broken; there is no reference to blood and water. Accordingly, it is most arbitrary, as all too often exegetes have done,¹⁷⁷ to relate vs. 35 (“he who saw it …”) in particular to vs. 34c (“blood and water”) and not to the whole of vss. 32-34. That the reference is to the whole appears clearly from the beginning of vs. 36: “These things [plural] occurred.…”¹⁷⁸

Admittedly, this still does not tell us what moved the Evangelist to discuss these particular physical details—“water and blood”—so realistically and at such length. Some commentators see here the rejection of a docetic view,¹⁷⁹ one that teaches that as the Son of God Jesus did not have a real physical body and therefore did not really die.¹⁸⁰ But the intent of this passage is clearly positive (cf. vs. 35c), and other parts of this Gospel make it hard to demonstrate a deliberately anti-Gnostic intent. Therefore, this last part of vs. 34 can best be understood generally as one more proof of the trustworthiness—attested with so much emphasis in vs. 35—of the person who with his own eyes saw the things related in vss. 32-34 and could therefore testify of them in detail.¹⁸¹

35 Verses 35f. speak further and in a more intentional and concrete manner about the eyewitness testimony underlying the narrative of Jesus’ death and about the readers’ interest therein. That “he who saw this” is “the disciple whom Jesus loved” is generally agreed. Vss. 26f. readily suggest this identification. The witness is identified as male, and no other acquaintances or disciples are mentioned as standing at the cross. The idea that one of the soldiers is this eyewitness is very unlikely. Moreover, 21:24 is important for the identification of this witness as the beloved disciple, for there, in similar words, it is said of this disciple: “This is the disciple who is testifying to these things … and we know that his testimony is true.” Everything, then, suggests that the eyewitness of 19:35 and the disciple intended in 21:24 are one and the same person.

After “and his testimony is true” we then read, “and he knows that he is telling the truth—that you also may believe.” The much discussed question here is: Who is meant by this second “he”¹⁸² who knows that the first speaks the truth? Some think that this climactic “he” can only refer to Jesus or God.¹⁸³ But, although such use of “he” occurs elsewhere in John, it always appears in contexts that provide an immediate point of contact for it, without which it could not be understood in that sense. Scholars therefore usually assume that this “he” is the narrator.¹⁸⁴ Thus the Evangelist, with an appeal to himself, seeks to confirm the trustworthiness of the narrative as emphatically as possible. Still it remains remarkable that the Evangelist, having first established the “objective” trustworthiness of what the beloved disciple has attested (perfect), then adds that he himself (“subjectively”) knows that what the disciple “is saying” (present) is true. How can the Evangelist thus “swear,” as it were, that this witness is reliable unless he himself is this witness, the beloved disciple? This last conclusion is therefore the most plausible. The Evangelist himself then indirectly says of himself what others testify of him directly, and with the same words, in 21:24: “he is the disciple” (the one loved by Jesus) “who is testifying to these things” and of whom “we know that his testimony is true.”¹⁸⁵ In the same way, the purpose he attributes to the beloved disciple in 19:35 (“so that you may believe”) is the same as the purpose he has for writing his Gospel (20:31) and is expressed in the same words.

In this way, one can also understand the transition in vs. 35 from the perfect (“has testified”) to the present (“knows,” “is telling”). First the Evangelist speaks as the person who at one time stood by the cross, saw with his own eyes what has just been related, and testified to it—not only after many years but from the moment he saw it; “and that testimony is [and was] true” to the present day. Then he speaks of the present in the following words: “and [therefore] that [witness] knows that he is telling the truth”—now that as Evangelist he writes of it to his readers. “And he” marks the shift from eyewitness to Evangelist, so “he knows that he is telling the truth” is not a superfluous repetition but has a new and permanent relevance for the readers now being addressed: “so that you also may believe.” Finally, that the Evangelist speaks so anonymously and in the third person about himself is of course striking but entirely in keeping with the anonymous and sometimes allusive way in which the beloved disciple is spoken of (cf. 18:15 and 1:37, 40). His person remains hidden behind his testimony (see at greater length the comments following 21:24).

The closing words, “so that you also may believe,” as stated earlier, strongly resemble vss. 20:30, 31 and are to be understood in the same way. The church’s faith¹⁸⁶ rests on the eyewitness account of the disciples, who were called and destined for that purpose (cf. 17:21; 15:27) so that the members of the community along with these disciples may by faith be fellow participants in the eternal life revealed in that account (cf. 1 Jn. 1:3; Jn. 20:31). The purpose clause introduced by “so that” is intended not only to confirm the church’s faith in the historicity of Jesus’ death on the cross or of the details mentioned here but to direct its attention to the fulfillment of prophecy in those details as proof of the degree to which God’s involvement with and saving counsel for his Son is manifest in the particular manner of Jesus’ dying. Of this, finally, vss. 36 and 37 speak.

36, 37 That “so that you may believe” in vs. 35 is thus focused on the fulfillment of prophecy is proven by the causal “for” with which vs. 36 begins. It is because of that divine dispensation and intent that the death of Jesus—an offense and folly to the natural mind—is for the Christian community the ground and confirmation of its belief that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God.

In support of this belief the Evangelist cites two Scripture texts.¹⁸⁷ The first relates to what was narrated in vs. 33. The Evangelist presumably has in mind Ps. 34:20, where as proof of God’s special care for the righteous it is said: “He keeps all his bones; not one of them is broken.”¹⁸⁸ Many expositors see here, instead, the Mosaic law that all the bones of the Passover lamb must be intact (Ex. 12:46;¹⁸⁹ Nu. 9:12¹⁹⁰). Thus Jesus is described as the true Passover lamb, which would be especially striking if Jesus died on the fourteenth of Nisan, the day on which the Passover lambs were presented in the temple and killed. But this view is certainly doubtful. Jesus was killed not on the fourteenth of Nisan but on the fifteenth, the day of the Passover feast itself, not the day when the lambs were presented and killed. Furthermore, this pericope contains no allusion to Passover,¹⁹¹ and Jesus’ death is not related to Passover or the Passover lamb anywhere else in this Gospel.¹⁹² Further, a citation from the Psalms is more in line with the preceding references to Scripture than a precept from the Pentateuch, a body of writings that is cited nowhere else in John.

If, then, Psalm 34 is being cited, then the Evangelist thus refers (as with the next citation) to the turning point, begun with the death of Jesus, in God’s dealings with his Son. The Son is no longer the object of the world’s hostility. From now on, now that he has accomplished his task, he is the object of God’s special care. This care is extended even to his body, which is no longer subject to the cruel insolence of his enemies but kept from further mutilation and about to be returned to his friends. The following citation, from the prophecy in Zc. 12:10-14, speaks of the same reversal: great mourning is predicted over “him whom they have pierced,” a figure strongly reminiscent of the man of sorrows in Isaiah 53.¹⁹³

The connection between the words of this citation of Zc. 12:11 (“they shall look on him whom they have pierced”) and what is meant in the Old Testament text is not certain.¹⁹⁴ It is clear—and in agreement with the intent of Zechariah 12—that “they shall look on him” is to be understood here as: look with contrition, reverence, awe, and (possibly) horror at the one whom they have treated with violence (cf. Rv. 1:7; Mt. 24:30). In the prophecy this contrition is the result of “the outpouring of the spirit of compassion and supplication,” which in the time of salvation announced by the prophet will bring the people at all levels to repentance with respect to “him whom they have pierced” (Zc. 12:10a). In John this redemptive significance of “looking on” does not come to explicit expression. One can also take it as a threat of what awaits those who have pierced Jesus (Rv. 1:7; cf. Jn. 8:27). But in the way in which “looking on” emerges here we are not dealing first of all with salvation or disaster but with the one who is pierced appearing before the eyes of all as the one lifted up by God. “The one lifted up … is not to be overlooked by mankind. They will and must look to him whom they have pierced, for their salvation or destruction.”¹⁹⁵

At the same time this says that the fulfillment of the prophecy intended by the Evangelist is not limited to the piercing of Jesus’ side. The fulfillment concerns the reversal that Jesus, precisely as the one who was pierced, will bring about among those who have inflicted this violence on him; a reversal that in Zc. 13:1 is described in its saving significance: “On that day a fountain will be opened for the house of David … to cleanse them from sin and impurity.” Accordingly, in Jn. 19:37, more than in the first citation of Scripture (vs. 36), the reversal begun with Jesus’ death is described in its all-encompassing character. The reversal consists in the fact that from now on, because of Jesus’ self-offering in death, he is the one whom no one seeking salvation can bypass. In the one who was pierced (Zechariah 12) God places everyone before the great decision, just as that occurs in the man of sorrows of Isaiah 53 (cf. Jn. 12:38) and in the Son of man who had to be lifted up on the cross as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness (3:14). Thus this last double “fulfillment” of Scripture shows that the manner of Jesus’ death has heralded the great reversal that is in effect from now on as the response of God and of people to the “It is finished” of the Son of God.

In that light, finally, we can also understand why precisely for “these things” the Evangelist so emphatically appeals to the irrefutable testimony of him “who saw this” (vs. 35): so that the readers will not only be informed about the “that” and “how” of Jesus’ death but so that they will “believe” in these things as the way in which Jesus was lifted up by the Father on the cross, so that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life.

19:38-42

“… and Was Buried”

With the words “after these things” the account of Jesus’ burial begins. This account concludes the passion narrative and forms the transition to and preparation for the resurrection narrative. What stands out here is the special care devoted to Jesus’ body, along with the honorable character of the burial. The description in vss. 32-37, especially in the citations of Scripture there, of the reversal that had its beginning immediately with Jesus’ death is continued in the account of the burial. But we can also already detect in this account points of contact for what follows (cf. vs. 40 with 20:5; vs. 41 with 20:15).

John’s report largely agrees with that of the Synoptics: the initiative of Joseph of Arimathea, the burial in an as-yet-unused tomb, the background of the imminent Sabbath. But there are also important differences: the involvement of Nicodemus alongside Joseph, the use of a large amount of myrrh and aloes by the two men, and that no women are mentioned as witnesses at the entombment. But even in what John has in common with the Synoptics, as for example in the mention of Joseph, the details are different and John’s complete independence of the Synoptic tradition and his own kerygmatic purpose stand out.

38 Joseph’s request to Pilate for permission to dispose of Jesus’ body is reported first, as in the Synoptics. “Of Arimathea”¹⁹⁶ evidently refers to his place of origin and not to his place of residence. Mark and Luke mention his membership in the Sanhedrin (cf. Lk. 23:51). That Jesus was buried in Joseph’s own tomb (Mt. 27:60) suggests that Joseph was a resident of Jerusalem. His influential position meant that he could risk approaching Pilate with this request (cf. Mk. 15:43). John does not stress Joseph’s prominent position but describes him as “a disciple of Jesus, though a secret one, for fear of the Jews.” According to some interpreters, one must therefore view Joseph’s conduct in the light of 12:42, 43, which also mentions secret believers among the rulers of the Jews who “loved human glory more than the glory that comes from God” and so remained, even with their “belief” in Jesus, in the wrong camp. The same is said to be true of Nicodemus (see the comments on vs. 39). That they now, after Jesus’ death, come forward is said to indicate that they showed their colors too late, had reached a dead end, and “were unable to look beyond the grave.”¹⁹⁷

The context, however, points in another direction. Joseph’s activity is rather to be seen in the light of the reversal pointed out above, the reversal that came into effect when Jesus died. Many interpreters¹⁹⁸ therefore point with more justification to 12:32: “When I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw all people to myself,” though that seems to relate especially to Jesus’ future activity from heaven. But here the reference is still to Jesus lifted up on the cross or, as vs. 37 has it, to “looking on him whom they have pierced.” As we have said on vs. 37, this “looking on” and the reversal inherent in it is not limited to a threat from Jesus’ immediate enemies (“the Jews”) but is intended, at least in the light of Zechariah 12, as proof of a reversal in the attitude of all Israel as they “see him whom they have pierced,” that is, as they become aware of what they have done to him, to the one sent by God. That at this stage Joseph of Arimathea (and soon also Nicodemus) come forward as such—as representatives of the true Israel—illustrates the nature of this reversal all the more strikingly. The report—perhaps also the sight—of Jesus’ death gives Joseph the courage he lacked earlier to stand up for Jesus as his disciple—proof that Jesus’ power as the one pierced extends into the Sanhedrin and that the inscription on his cross will from now on make itself felt in its true, divinely intended meaning. Therefore, while Jesus’ closest disciples are still powerlessly looking on at what is happening or are not to be found because of their still unconquered fear of “the Jews” (cf. 20:19), Joseph comes forward first. He knows how to reach Pilate and takes the initiative to pay the dead Jesus the respect due to him, regardless of what this will cost him in “human glory” (12:43).

Pilate consents (after summoning the centurion to reassure himself that Jesus is dead, Mk. 15:44). Until the end he holds life and death power over Jesus. But all his power is subject to the great provison of Jesus’ last word to him (19:11). Then, with the road clear for Joseph, Joseph no longer hesitates and before the eyes of anyone who wants to see it he makes his way to Golgotha “and to the body.” Some important manuscripts have the verbs in the plural, probably because of an assumption that Joseph could not do what was needed unaided. But it was he who took on himself the responsibility for all.

39, 40 That Joseph did not have to face the task alone is clear from the new appearance of Nicodemus. Nicodemus was also a member of the Sanhedrin (3:1; 7:50f.). That he accompanied Joseph therefore reinforces what we have said about vs. 38. The Evangelist introduces Nicodemus’s involvement, as he did Joseph’s, with a reference to his earlier involvement with Jesus: “who had at first come to him by night.” We have seen that we cannot include him with Joseph among the crypto-believers referred to in 12:40.¹⁹⁹ Still, in this reference to “by night” and “at first” there is an indication of the big difference between that past and the present. Seeing Jesus’ miracles (3:2) could not bring Nicodemus to openly join Jesus’ disciples, but Jesus’ death can. Nicodemus thus continues the line of his earlier public action on behalf of Jesus in the Sanhedrin (7:50ff.), this time not merely as a judge taking a stand in support of Jesus’ civil rights but now, like Joseph, as one driven by the impact of Jesus’ death.²⁰⁰ There is no longer any possibility of misunderstanding Nicodemus’s intentions or his assessment of Jesus. He comes, bringing “a mixture of myrrh and aloes, a hundred [Roman] pounds in weight,” as though to extend to Jesus the royal honor due to him.

“Myrrh” is a fragrant resin, “aloes” a quickly drying aromatic tree sap. Some interpreters think that the mixture of the two was for embalming,²⁰¹ others that it was for anointing.²⁰² There is no mention here of embalming or anointing (cf. Mk. 16:2). It says only that “they bound [Jesus’ body] in linen cloths with the spices”: the powdered mixture was spread between the cloths as a pleasant-smelling antidote against the stench of the corpse.²⁰³ The binding presumably relates to the wrapping of Jesus’ hands and feet (cf. 11:44, which also mentions the separate napkin, as in 20:7).²⁰⁴ “As is the burial custom of the Jews” is added for the benefit of readers not familiar with Jewish customs.

With that, apparently, the disposal of Jesus’ body is completed for the Fourth Evangelist. It is carried out by Joseph and Nicodemus and possibly others, who would be included in the plural verbs in vss. 40 and 42. From Mark and Luke, though not from Matthew, we get the impression that this entombment was temporary: on the third day the women go to the tomb with spices to anoint Jesus’ body (Mk. 16:1). Several proposals have been made to harmonize the accounts: for example, the women were not present and so did not know that Joseph and Nicodemus had prepared the body for the tomb. But the story is told from clearly different viewpoints in John and the Synoptics. In John, the abundance of spices is proof of the reversal not only in the conduct of Joseph and Nicodemus but also in the way in which the Father deals with his Son after the “It is finished.” In Mark and Luke the spices—on the third day—serve rather as proof, along with the women’s astonished questions, from the other side: “Why do you seek the living among the dead?” In John the linen cloths play a clear role, in view of 20:5f., that the Synoptics’ shroud does not play.

Did these differing details work their way through the tradition to land in different places and then begin to function in those places? Or is this another proof that the Fourth Evangelist was more precisely informed about some matters than his fellow Evangelists before him? In a case like the one under discussion it seems harder to believe that the Fourth Evangelist slanted the details to suit his theological interests—or even created them—than that the Synoptics (witness also that they differ among themselves in the details of the story) had less precise and consistent information than John.

41, 42 In the account of the burial proper the same line is continued. When the special care of Jesus’ friends for his body is completed, there is for him, close to where he was crucified, a tomb, one that lay ready to receive him. And it is not a tomb fitting for a crucified criminal, for whom even a mass grave would do. It is, rather, in the shadowed isolation of a supervised (20:15) garden. That the tomb has never been used also fits the providential, sacred character of what now takes place there. When Jesus has completed his task on earth, everything in the immediate surroundings proves to be available to him as though it has long been reserved and made ready for him (cf. Mk. 11:2).

But the story of the earthly Jesus is also determined to the end by human factors and considerations. There was—one must admit—little time for any other choice. It was already Friday evening. People had to hurry their work to get it done before the sabbath began. Again the Evangelist mentions “the Jewish day of preparation”²⁰⁵ as the time within which the action had to be completed if a violation of the Jewish law was to be avoided, the same reason that “the Jews” wanted to hasten the death of the crucified (vs. 31). Joseph and Nicodemus had to get Jesus buried in time. It is hard to say whether the Evangelist, in this repeated reference to the approaching sabbath, has in mind a divine providence giving rest to Jesus after he had completed his task on the sixth day. It is clear in any case that the time between Jesus’ death and his resurrection is in the Fourth Gospel a transitional period. The descent of the Son of man reaches its lowest point in a human tomb, but also finds there its passage and transition to his ascent to glory, though the signs that point out this transition in Jesus’ entombment only become visible in the light that is still to come, “on the first day of the week,” the first words of the next chapter.

1. Many recent exegetes remain faithful to this position (see below); for its proponents and opponents see, e.g., the bibliographies in F. Neirynck, “John and the Synoptics,” in l’Évangile de Jean, ed. M. de Jonge, 1977, pp. 7ff.

2. For a lengthy account of this reversal, see, e.g., J. Blinzler, Johannes und die Synoptiker. Ein Forschungsbericht, 1965, pp. 16-60.

3. See, e.g., Bultmann, Comm., p. 635; Schnackenburg, Comm. III, p. 219. The circular nature of this argument is clear. First one establishes (on the basis of the Gospel itself, of course) what is typically Johannine, in order then to use that as the criterion of what belongs to the pre-Johannine “passion narrative” and how John used that pre-Johannine material.

4. See, e.g., A. Dauer, Die Passionsgeschichte im Johannesevangelium. Eine traditionsgeschichtliche Untersuchung zu Joh 18,1–19,3, 1972. See also F. Hahn, Der Prozeß Jesu nach dem Johannesevangelium, 1970, pp. 23f. For a critical discussion of this issue see P. Borgen, “John and the Synoptics: Can Paul Offer Help?” in Tradition and Interpretation in the New Testament (Festschrift for E. E. Ellis), 1987, pp. 80ff.

5. See, e.g., the constructions in Becker, Comm., pp. 532ff.

6. One can read the interesting report of the discussions held on this subject at the twenty-sixth session of the Journées Bibliques de Louvain, held August 20-22, 1975, by M. de Jonge in his “Introduction” in l’Évangile de Jean, 1977, pp. 15ff.

7. So Neirynck, “John and the Synoptics,” pp. 72-106. See also M. Sabbe’s critique of Dauer’s hypothesis in “The Arrest of Jesus in Jn 18,1-11 and its Relation to the Synoptic Gospels,” in l’Évangile de Jean, pp. 203f.

8. Neirynck, “John and the Synoptics,” pp. 80f.

9. For the importance of oral tradition, see C. H. Dodd, Historical Tradition in the Fourth Gospel, 1963. See also Borgen, “John and the Synoptics,” p. 93.

10. See below.

11. Cf., to cite just one example, Brown’s critique of Richter’s view that the narrative of Jesus’ arrest is simply a “theological elaboration of the Synoptic or pre-Synoptic account,” one in which numerous details are ignored: “In our judgment, in order to do justice to all the complexities of the Johannine account one must allow for both a reliable independent tradition and a highly theological elaboration” (Comm. II, p. 817).

12. κῆπος.

13. ὁ παραδιδοὺς αὐτóν.

14. συνήχθη. For this meaning cf. Ac. 11:26.

15. λαβών = “with” (BDF §419.1), not as their commander but as their guide.

16. For the “chief priests and scribes” as a term for the highest Jewish authority, the Sanhedrin, see the comments on 7:48.

17. On these “servants” of the Sanhedrin see at length J. Blinzler, Der Prozeß Jesu, 1969⁴, pp. 87ff., 126-28.

18. φάνος here (with λάμπας, “torch”) means “lantern.”

19. See, e.g., Bultmann, Comm., p. 637, according to whom this combination is based on John’s interest in the opposition between Jesus and the Roman state. See also Schnackenburg, who thinks that in the “source” from which the Evangelist drew his material the “detachment” referred to the Jewish police, while the Evangelist here clearly has in mind Roman soldiers, so representing the joint operation of Jews and Gentiles as the “whole unbelieving cosmos.” So his report becomes a “theological representation,” in connection with which “a verdict such as ‘mistake’ or ‘deception’ is quite out of place” (Comm. III, p. 223).

20. Blinzler, Prozeß, pp. 95f.

21. E.g., F. F. Bruce, “The Trial of Jesus in the Fourth Gospel,” in Gospel Perspectives I, ed. R. T. France and David Wenham, 1980, p. 9. See also Brown, Comm. II, pp. 799, 808, 815f.

22. ἐξῆλθεν, which others take as “stepped outside the garden.” But Jesus apparently did not remove himself from his disciples (vss. 8f.).

23. Here Ναζωραῖον (cf. Mt. 2:23), elsewhere also Ναζαρηνóς. The name Nazareth comes through more clearly in the latter. For the origin of the first spelling and the different meanings assigned to it (again with a view to Matthew 2), see the lengthy analysis in Brown, Comm. II, pp. 809f. On its meaning here there can be no uncertainty.

24. So Bultmann: “We have here the profane formula of recognition” (Comm., p. 639, n. 4; cf. p. 225, n. 3).

25. See also Brown: “The Johannine scene illustrates that Jesus has God’s power over the forces of darkness because he has the divine name” (Comm. II, p. 818). However, against the latter point (“the divine name”) see the comments above on 8:24.

26. See, e.g., passages like Pss. 27:1-3; 56:(7-)10 in which the superior power of God over his enemies is similarly described.

27. Cf. Brown, Comm. II, p. 811, who views this as the beginning “of an attitude that would lead toward the recognition of canonical Christian writings alongside the Jewish ones.”

28. On this passage see also

29. On “of that year” see the comments above on 11:49.

30. Josephus, Antiquities 18.1.2.

31. For the evidence see Brown, Comm. II, p. 820.

32. Admittedly, some copyists understood the high priest in vs. 19 as Caiaphas and therefore placed vs. 24 directly after vs. 13, interpreting the whole of vss. 19-23 as referring to Caiaphas. But in that case Annas’s sole role would have consisted in immediately sending Jesus on to Caiaphas, in effect making vs. 13 virtually superfluous. If that had been the original sequence, moreover, it would be much harder to explain why later copyists would have made Annas Jesus’ interrogator in place of Caiaphas.

33. So also Schnackenburg on this passage. He decides against the overly complicated tradition-historical reconstructions of Dauer and Hahn (see

34. Against this see also Blinzler, Prozeß, pp. 134-36.

35. Schnackenburg calls this “incomprehensible” and refers for this otherwise “unknown figure” to John’s “source” (Comm. III, p. 235).

36. γνωστòς τῷ, vs. 15.

37. γνωστòς τοῦ, vs. 16.

38. αὐλή in the first place denotes a courtyard, an uncovered enclosed space adjoining a building. It may also refer to the house or palace to which the courtyard belongs (see BAGD s.v.). Here it apparently refers to the courtyard, the place outside in the cold where the servants were. By “the courtyard of the high priest” some scholars understand the courtyard of Annas’s house. This, then, would imply that Annas had a separate residence. But although in vs. 19 he is also described as “the high priest,” after vs. 13 the article (used twice) rather suggests Caiaphas. One must therefore picture the examination by Annas as taking place in the halls of the official high-priestly palace, in the courtyard of which, according to other reports, Peter’s denial took place. Accordingly, Jesus’ transfer from Annas to Caiaphas must not then be understood as his removal from one palace to another.

39. Here expressly called ἡ παιδίσκη ἡ θυρωρóς. The Synoptics also mention a παιδίσκη in connection with the first denial, but not as gatekeeper. Some scholars find the idea of a female gatekeeper at night hard to imagine and regard this female gatekeeper as a later adaptation to the Synoptic tradition. But then it is precisely this passage that gives evidence of the Evangelist’s original knowledge (see above). In any case the text that has come down to us has no trace of a later adaptation. Admittedly, the Sinaitic Syriac refers in vs. 16 to a male gatekeeper and in vs. 17 to “the maidservant of the gatekeeper.” But this reading is too isolated to be original.

40. A question beginning with μή usually expects a negative answer. But in some cases this combination has a doubting or deliberative meaning (cf. 4:28; see BDF §427.2).

41. “Also” could mean “like your companion.” In that case the other disciple would have been known as a disciple of Jesus, at least by this servant. But this again evokes new and troublesome questions. And it might simply mean “like all the others” (so Mk. 14:69; Mt. 26:69).

42. A distinction is made between δοῦλοι and ὑπηρέται; the first probably denotes the domestic servants of the high priest (cf. vss. 10, 26), the latter officers of the Sanhedrin (cf. vs. 3; 7:32, 45).

43. Of which the Evangelist is said to have taken over a report, in a very brief form, from his “source”; so Bultmann, Comm., p. 644.

44. Cf. Ex. 22:28 in the Septuagint: ἄρχοντας τοῦ λαοῦ σου οὐ κακῶς ἐρεῖς.

45. For this meaning of μαρτυρεῖν, see BAGD s.v. 1a: “furnish proof”; Bultmann: “synonymous with ἐλέγχειν” (Comm., p. 647).

46. On μή at the beginning of the question, see the comments on vs. 17 above.

47. οὐ at the beginning of the question expects an affirmative answer.

48. For a survey and discussion of the sometimes very negative conclusions that some expositors have drawn from this, see Brown, Comm. II, pp. 836f. An attempt to harmonize “everything” in the four Gospels and to turn it into a single coherent narrative is made, for instance, by J. van Bruggen, Christus op aarde. Zijn levensbeschijving door leerlingen en tijdenoten, 1987, pp. 222-24.

49. So Bultmann: The story belongs to the reports from the Evangelist’s “source,” which he did not utilize to support his own theology (Comm., pp. 642-48).

50. οὐκ εἰμί.

51. ἐγώ εἰμι.

52. So, e.g., E. Haenchen, Gott und Mensch, 1965, p. 151: “The narrator’s sole aim is to show that the Jews were (almost) solely responsible for the death of Jesus.”

53. P. Winter, On the Trial of Jesus, 1961, p. 89.

54. P. Lapide, Wie waren schuldig aan de dood van Jesus? 1988, p. 81; after he had first written concerning the conversation between Jesus and Pilate that preceded the question: “Now, within the court, follows what can only be called a philosophical dialogue between two intimate friends,” p. 80.

55. Cf. Lapide, Wie waren schuldig, p. 86.

56. See Haenchen’s discussion of what authors like J. Wellhausen and E. Schwarz (1908) wrote about the Fourth Gospel and this pericope in particular in “Jesus vor Pilatus (Joh. 18,28–19,16),” in Gott und Mensch, pp. 144ff.

57. See, e.g., Haenchen, “Jesus vor Pilatus,” pp. 147f., 155.

58. So Schnackenburg, Comm. III, p. 241.

59. Admittedly, scholars have attempted here, too, to go back to an underlying written source, said to have been “theologically” rewritten by the Evangelist. But even authors who tend to speak of this source with a high degree of assurance recognize the difficulty of applying this (“tradition-historical”) method to the text before us. See, e.g., Bultmann, Comm., pp. 649f.; Schnackenburg, Comm. III, p. 242; Becker, Comm. II, pp. 556f. An exception is A. Dauer, Die Passionsgeschichte im Johannesevangelium, pp. 119f.

60. See, e.g., Brown, Comm. II, p. 861; Blinzler, Prozeß, p. 274.

61. At the beginning of the present-day Via Dolorosa, in the convent of the Sisters of Zion, one is shown the Lithostrotos (19:13), a large stone floor laid bare by excavations. In the immediate neighborhood is also the so-called Ecce Homo Arch, which may date back to the time of Agrippa I (reigned a.d. 37-44).

62. So Blinzler, Prozeß, pp. 250f.

63. Whether this refers to the meal on the eve of the fifteenth of Nisan or should be taken more broadly is important in relation to the broader question of the date of the Passover in John (see the comments above on 13:1). But for the present context this issue is not especially important. The issue here is the cultic purity that Jews would lose if they entered a Gentile dwelling—like the Roman courthouse—and which, when lost, would prevent them from participating in any religious meal.

64. See, e.g., H. Schlier, “Jesus und Pilatus,” in his Die Zeit der Kirche, 1956, pp. 56-74, esp. p. 58; but also more recent ones like Schnackenburg, Comm. III, p. 244; Becker, Comm., p. 562.

65. κατηγορία: “in the technical juridical sense of the word, the accusation by means of which a trial was begun. Pilate wants to start the discussion” (P. J. Verdam, Sanhedrin en Gabbatha, 1959, p. 33).

66. ἐξῆλθαν in vss. 18:29, 38; 19:4; see also 19:14; εἰσῆλθεν in 18:33; 19:9; see also 19:1.

67. So Lapide, who speaks of the “sensitivity and astonishing conciliatoriness of the tyrant” assumed by the Evangelist, Wie waren schuldig, pp. 78ff.

68. So Haenchen, Gott und Mensch, p. 148, who first states, “We know enough of Roman governors to be certain that it would never have occurred to Pilate to appear in person”; “he was not a messenger boy.” But then Haenchen adds: “But how little this correct objection actually says! Here speaks a narrator who simplifies things down to what is essential to him.”

69. So Becker, Comm. II, p. 558.

70. So, e.g., Brown with regard to the argument that a Roman governor would never have lowered himself to go out to the Jewish authorities if they refused to enter the praetorium: “How can one be so sure? Were there never moments when Pilate, like other politicians, had to swallow his pride in order to avert worse troubles?” (Comm. II, p. 859; see also Schlatter, Comm., p. 337); cf. also Blinzler, who thinks Pilate went out to give consideration to the religious objections of the Jews and who offers “a series of proofs” for such a course of conduct on the part of Roman officials (Prozeß, p. 276, n. 2).

71. See on this at greater length Verdam, Sanhedrin en Gabbatha, pp. 32f.: “Pilate wants to start the proceedings. But this does not suit the accusers. They think the issue is clear; they have come not for a trial but for a signature,” that is, the exequatur.

72. This viewpoint had already been argued in an influential essay by H. Lietzmann, “Der Prozeß Jesu” (1931), in Kleine Schriften II, 1958, 251ff., and was later defended at length by, among others, P. Winter in On the Trial of Jesus.

73. See A. N. Sherwin-White, Roman Society and Roman Law in the New Testament, 1963, p. 36; Verdam, Sanhedrin en Gabbatha, pp. 14ff., who speaks of the “iron rule” in Roman provinces that death sentences could not be carried out in isolation from the Romans (pp. 28f.). The turbulent province of Judea would have been the last place for the Romans to make an exception to that rule.

74. See, e.g., the summaries in Brown, Comm. II, pp. 849f.; E. Lohse, TDNT VII, pp. 865ff.

75. So also Lohse, TDNT VII, 866: “If the Romans did not stop lynch law or grant free protection to the Jews, their consent was by no means the rule.”

76. See also J. Jeremias, “Zur Geschichtlichkeit des Verhörs Jesu vor dem Hohen-Rat,” ZNW 43 (1950), p. 51; Blinzler, Prozeß, pp. 229-44.

77. Defended at length by J. van Bruggen, Christus op aarde, 1987, pp. 193-200.

78. See also Brown, with the same argument. He speaks of a “not particularly successful [attempt] to circumvent the difficulty by interpreting John’s statement in a limited way.” Other attempts of that kind have been made as well. “However,” his conclusion reads, “the Johannine text gives no hint of limitation or qualification as regards time” (Comm. II, p. 850).

79. As by Van Bruggen, Christus op aarde, pp. 193f.

80. On this differentiation of usage, see the comments above on 1:19.

81. μήτι ἐγὼ Ίουδαῖóς εἰμι.

82. On 3:3, 5 (“entering the kingdom of God”) see the comments there.

83. ὑπήρεται, as in 18:3, 22; 19:6.

84. So, correctly, Schnackenburg.

85. In keeping with the Johannine manner; cf. Bultmann, Comm., p. 654, n. 1.

86. ἐντεῦθεν, here synonymous with ἐκ τοῦ κóσμου τούτου.

87. On this see, e.g., Schlier, “Jesus und Pilatus” and several of the commentaries.

88. As asserted by Bultmann, “For the Evangelist the interest in the trial of Jesus is wholly transferred to the encounter with the Roman state” (Comm., p. 644; cf. pp. 637f. and passim). Later Bultmann backed away from this view of John 18, which he had apparently defined when he was strongly affected by political relations during the Nazi regime. See Bultmann’s Das Evangelium des Johannes. Ergänzungsheft, 1957, pp. 52f. Important for this entire question (including among other things Karl Barth’s exegesis of John 18–19) is D. Luhrmann, “Der Staat und die Verkündigung, Rudolf Bultmanns Auslegung von Joh 18,28 bis 19,16,” in Theologia Crucia—Signum Crucis (Festschrift for E. Dinkler), 1979, pp. 358-75.

89. See also Schlier, “Jesus und Pilatus.”

90. See ibid., pp. 62f.

91. In his exposition of vs. 36 Calvin discusses whether “it is lawful to defend the kingdom of Christ by arms” (Comm. II, pp. 166f.): “I reply: First, those who draw the conclusion that the teaching of the Gospel and the pure worship of God should not defended by arms are wrong and ignorant. For Christ argues only from the facts of the present case how frivolous were the calumnies of the Jews.” He goes on to argue that the kingdom of Christ, being spiritual, must be founded on the doctrine and power of the Spirit, “for neither the laws and edicts of men nor their punishments reach into consciences, yet this does not prevent princes from incidentally defending Christ’s kingdom, partly by establishing external discipline and partly by lending their protection to the Church against the ungodly.” “But,” he concludes, “the depravity of the world causes the kingdom of Christ to be established more by the blood of martyrs than by the aid of arms.”

92. σὺ λέγεις (cf. Mt. 26:25, 64—with Mk. 14:62!). The idea, therefore, is not that Jesus leaves it open for Pilate to judge. See also Strack/Billerbeck I, p. 990; similarly, on the basis of Roman law, Lapide (who refers for this to Mommsen), Wie waren schuldig, p. 76. Bultmann correctly remarks that the immediately following statement is senseless “if one attempts to understand it otherwise” (Comm., p. 654, n. 6).

93. The state “which as such is not interested in the question that moves man as to the determining reality of his life” (Comm., p. 656, n. 2).

94. The idea that we must go further and may assume that the Evangelist intends to give the answer to Pilate’s unanswered question in the following narrative of Jesus’ death and resurrection and that this reality shapes the entire concept of truth in the Fourth Gospel (cf. Morris, Comm., pp. 770 and 294f.) seems to be a conclusion drawn rather too generally from the context.

95. For a “Comparative Chart for the Barabbas Incident” see Brown, Comm. II, pp. 870f.

96. ἔστιν δὲ συνήθεια ὑμιν. In the Jewish sources no clear examples or proofs exist of such a Passover custom (what is in later literature called the privilegium paschale), though some scholars believe that Mishnah Pesaḥim 8:6 is a point of contact. In the history of the Roman legal administration of the day one does find clear examples of such acts of mercy toward convicts on certain occasions. For both of these matters see Blinzler, Prozeß, pp. 317ff. and 303ff. respectively.

97. There has been much speculation about his name “son of Abbas” (father), in some manuscripts spelled Bar-rabbas (“son of rabban,” “son of our master”) or as Jesus Barabbas (particularly in Matthew). See the overview in Brown, Comm. II, pp. 856f. However, the name also frequently occurs elsewhere as an ordinary personal name (cf. Strack/Billerbeck I, p. 1031).

98. λῃστής.

99. In connection with the adjective ἐπίσημος (δέσμος) in Mt. 27:16.

100. So, e.g., A. Schlatter, Der Evangelist Matthäus, 1957⁴, 756f. (on Mt. 26:55); see also the full treatment of λῃστης by K. H. Rengstorf in TDNT IV, pp. 257-62, especially p. 261.

101. So Verdam, Sanhedrin en Gabbatha, p. 28. While in Matthew and Mark the scourging takes place as punishment prior to the crucifixion (Mt. 27:26; Mk. 15:15), in Luke, as in John, it is an attempt on the part of Pilate to satisfy the Jews in order then to release Jesus (Lk. 23:16, 22). Scourgings were applied in varying degrees of severity depending on the goal pursued (cf. Brown, Comm. II, p. 874).

102. The words ἐμαστίγωσεν (vs. 1) and ῥαπίσματα (vs. 3), occurring in conjunction, recall the prophecy of the Servant of the Lord in Isaiah 50, where vs. 6 (in the Septuagint) also mentions scourging (μάστιγας) and blows (ῥαπίσματα).

103. Mt. 27:29f. mentions a reed—the “scepter” that the soldiers placed in Jesus’ hands and with which they then struck him on his head.

104. For these and other particulars, see R. Delbrueck, “Antiquarisches zu den Verspottungen Jesu,” ZNW 41 (1942), p. 132.

105. ἰδού, like ἴδε, both originally imperatives, is used as a demonstrative particle to focus the attention of the listener (or reader); here it is linked with the nominative in the sense of “here is” or “here comes” (cf. BAGD s.v. ἰδού).

106. So Schlatter, Comm. in loc.

107. So Barrett, Comm., p. 541. For these and related views, see also Brown, Comm. II, p. 876, who himself speaks of “an exalted title” (p. 890).

108. So Bultmann, Comm., p. 659.

109. Schnackenburg speaks of “the numinous terror before the divine,” “fear by the judge of the accused, who appears to him as a higher being” (Comm. III, p. 200). Bultmann speaks of “numinous fear” of “the superhuman” that Pilate encounters in Jesus (Comm., p. 661; see also Barrett, Comm., p. 542).

110. Some proponents of this view therefore wish to translate μᾶλλον by “very,” an unlikely translation.

111. See, e.g., Becker, Comm. II, p. 575.

112. Schnackenburg refers to Augustine. Calvin mentions the view of those who explain “you would have no power” in a general sense, saying, that is, “that nothing is done in the world save by God’s permission.” Calvin himself prefers the opinion of those who “restrict this passage to the office of the magistrate” (Comm. II, p. 174).

113. E.g., Bultmann (so his Comm. but differently in his Ergänzungsheft!); Schlier, “Jesus und Pilatus,” p. 71, and numerous others.

114. Hence the striking neuter with which the feminine ἐξουσία (i.e., the concrete power to release or to crucify) is continued in the subordinate clause: εἰ μὴ ἦν δεδομένον σοι: “unless it”; a feminine could be understood more easily if the antecedent referred to the power of government in general.

115. Cf. also Blinzler, Prozeß, p. 333: “What has given him power over Jesus is not the rights and means belonging to him as the bearer of state power but a dispensation from above, namely the mysterious will of God.”

116. The singular, however, remains striking. Some scholars speak of the “general singular” and point to a usage like that in Lk. 17:1.

117. Vs. 11 “also exhibits an apologetic tendency as is more and more noticeable in early Christianity.… The blame is taken from the Roman at the cost of the Jews, he is almost ‘excused.’ But John does not go so far as to clear him of guilt …” (Schnackenburg, Comm. III, p. 262).

118. ἐζήτει, iterative imperfect.

119. ἀντιλέγειν, besides “contradict,” can also mean “resist” (cf. Rm. 10:21; Tit. 2:9).

120. Specifically on the basis of E. Bammel, “φίλος τοῦ Καίσαρος,” TLZ 77 (1952), pp. 205ff.

121. For objections against this view of “Caesar’s friend,” see, e.g., Brown, Comm. II, p. 879.

122. Cf. Blinzler, Prozeß, pp. 349ff.

123. For this view see at length ibid., pp. 346-56.

124. See also Barrett, Comm., in loc., though he states this with some reservation.

125. Some opt for the metaphorical “place of the bare forehead,” which is said to lead to the meaning of “elevated place” or “hump.”

126. Many of the more recent commentators translate “preparation for Passover,” taking this to refer to the day preceding the celebration of Passover, i.e., the fourteenth of Nisan. For the arguments see above on 13:1ff.

127. For a complete list and comparison see Brown, Comm. II, pp. 914ff.; earlier also in Dodd, Historical Tradition in the Fourth Gospel.

128. The dative ἑαυτῷ is probably intended simply to indicate the custom that someone convicted to die by crucifixion had to carry his own cross.

129. κρανίου is, then, an epexegetical or appositional genitive; cf. BDF §412.2; Mt. 27:33; Mk. 15:22. Others translate: “to the place called ‘the skull’ ”; cf. Lk. 23:33.

130. And therefore not so called on account of the executions performed there, which would suggest decapitation, not the customary punishment in Palestine.

131. On the application of this penalty see at length Blinzler, Prozeß, pp. 357-86.

132. Nor is Gl. 3:1 (οἷς κατʼ ὀφθαλμοὺς Ίησοῦς Χριστòς προεγράφη ἔν ὑμῖν ἐσταυρωμένος) to be understood in the sense of an actual description. For this restraint in describing it, which was also observed in contemporary ancient literature, see also Becker, Comm., p. 586.

133. It occurs in all four Evangelists, though in somewhat varying form. All have “the king of the Jews,” Matthew with “Jesus.” Only John has “the Nazarene” (cf. 18:7).

134. ὁ γέγραφα, γέγραφα: the double perfect cumulatively indicates the completed action.

135. χιτών, in distinction from ἱμάτιον (outer garment).

136. Commentators have speculated at length about the possible deeper meaning of “the tunic without seam” in connection with, among other things, the seamless robe said by Josephus to be worn by the high priest. On these speculations see, at length, Bultmann, Comm., p. 671, n. 2, who, however—correctly I think—does nothing with them. In this Gospel this detail seems to have no other significance than to explain what was done with one specific garment, which is clearly distinguished from the “division” of the rest of Jesus’ clothes.

137. Though they do use the words of Psalm 22.

138. Although there is no express mention there, or in the Masoretic Text, of the inner garment. Whether in the Psalm τòν ἱματισμóν (in the second clause) is meant to be a synonym of τὰ ἱματία (in the first clause) or a reference to a different garment, as here in John, is yet another question (see N. H. Ridderbos, De Psalmen I, 1962, p. 240).

139. The conclusion of Psalm 22, where the poet speaks of the answer to his prayer, is also understood in Talmudic literature “in a universal messianic-eschatological sense, but nowhere is there mention of the person of the Messiah” (Strack/Billerbeck II, p. 574).

140. The latter point to the μὲν … δέ in vss. 24b–25a as well as to the four women mentioned in vs. 25. But the meaning of the suggested contrast is not obvious.

141. Μαρία ἡ τοῦ Κλωπᾶ has also been read in apposition to ἡ ἀδελφὴ τῆς μητρòς αυτοῦ. In that case John mentions only three women, but then the two sisters would have the same name. Most recent scholarship assumes that we are dealing with two pairs of women. The first pair are not named but are identified as “his mother” and “her sister.” The second pair are both named Mary and further identified as ἡ τοῦ Κλωπᾶ and ἡ Μαγδαληνή. We do not have any more information about the first of these two Marys. According to later tradition (Eusebius, Historia Ecclesiastica 3.11) Clopas was a brother of Mary’s husband Joseph. In that case ἡ τοῦ Κλωπᾶ would probably have to be translated “the wife of Clopas,” and this Mary would be a sister-in-law of Jesus’ mother. Sometimes Clopas is also linked with the Cleopas of Lk. 24:18, but the names are not interchangeable.

142. The possibility that other women were also present can be deduced from Mk. 15:40; Mt. 27:56.

143. E.g., J. van Bruggen, with an argument from silence: “This seems very improbable, since all trace of family kinship both in and outside the Gospels is lacking” (Christus op aarde, p. 267). In the same vein see also Schnackenburg, who objects especially to a combination of the Synoptic lists of women with Jn. 19:25 because John proceeds from a different (written) tradition. But the fact that John is not dependent on the Synoptics does not exclude the possibility that with other words (“his mother’s sister”) he refers to the same person as the one the Synoptics call “the mother of the sons of Zebedee” or “Salome.”

144. Of the older commentaries see, e.g., Westcott and Zahn; of the more recent, e.g., Morris; at length and positively, Brown, Comm. I, p. xcvii; II, p. 906.

145. Strikingly characterized by Barclay: “There is something infinitely moving in the fact that Jesus in the agony of the Cross, in the moment when the salvation of the world hung in the balance, thought of the loneliness of His mother in the days when He was taken away” (quoted in Morris, Comm., p. 611).

146. So, at length, Calvin, Comm. II, pp. 180f.

147. See, e.g., Zahn, Comm., pp. 658f.; Grosheide, Comm. II, pp. 501f.; Morris, Comm., p. 812.

148. Schnackenburg, Comm. III, p. 280, counts against the interpretation that “sees in the scene nothing more than Jesus’ childlike concern for his mother” the “unmistakable theological interest of the Evangelist.”

149. See

150. ἀπʼ ἐκείνης τῆς ὥρας.

151. εἰς τὰ ἴδια is hard to render with precision. It denotes more than simply “house” as building or residence, also describing its uniqueness, a uniqueness conferred by the inhabitant. See also Schnackenburg, Comm., in loc., and the article cited by him on John 19:27b by J. de la Potterie, “Das Wort Jesu, ‘Siehe deine Mutter’ und die Annahme der Mutter durch den Jünger (Joh. 19,27b),” in Neues Testament und Kirche (Festschrift for Schnackenburg), 1974, pp. 191-219: “From that hour the disciple took her (in)to his own home” (

152. On this see, at length, Brown, Comm. II, pp. 922ff., who himself presents a “mariological” interpretation as well.

153. Schnackenburg, a Catholic, writes: “Finally the scene beneath the cross is also unable to carry the burden of proof [of Mary’s motherhood of the church]; for the main point remains that Mary is entrusted to the disciple and he receives her as his own” (Comm. III, p. 280).

154. So Bultmann, Comm., p. 673.

155. On this see, at greater length, the comments below on 21:24ff.

156. According to some, she is here the symbol of believers from the time of Jesus’ earthly revelation who were taken into the house of the beloved disciples (the later community led by him) to be further instructed in the ongoing work of the exalted Lord. These, conversely, would then preserve and strengthen the ties of the community to “pre-Easter” tradition. Hence the double saying, “Here is your son” and “Here is your mother.” For this construction, see at length T. Witkamp, Jezus van Nazareth in de gemeente van Johannes, 1986, pp. 335, 346ff., with mention of other authors, like B. Lindars, who think along these lines.

157. Schnackenburg, a Catholic author, thinks that more content (than “not a few” Protestant exegetes give it) needs to be given to the active motherhood of Mary, which he hears in the words “Here is your mother.” He thinks the intent of the saying may also be to remind the Christian community of the “material womb” from which Jesus himself has sprung, that is, the Judaism represented by Mary (Comm. III, pp. 278-82).

158. Witkamp (Jezus van Nazareth) mentions three such arguments and refers in this connection to the work of Dauer (Die Passionsgeschichte im Johannesevangelium): a) There is no Synoptic parallel (which, however, cannot be a criterion for historicity); b) there is said to be a contradiction with 16:32 (but if one takes a strict view of 16:32, then 18:15ff., 25ff., which do have Synoptic parallels, would have to be unhistorical); and c) it would be unlikely for Jesus to have waited until this moment before making provision for his mother (but according to the Evangelist this act of caring derives its meaning precisely from its character as last act before the statement that “all was now finished,” vs. 28).

159. This is indicated by the word ἤδη, which we have translated “now,” but also carries the meaning “now already.” The phrase μετὰ τοῦτο also points in this direction.

160. τελειωθῇ. In every other case πληρóω is used for fulfillment of Scripture. Some scholars (e.g., Bultmann) regard the word used here as synonymous. Still, the exception to the rule seems not to be without meaning. The reference here is to that which is final and definitive; see also the translation of BAGD (p. 809): “in order that the scripture might receive its final fulfillment.”

161. This in contrast with the view of Loisy and others that in John the death of Jesus is not a portrayal of suffering, shame, or total abandonment—as in the Synoptics—but that there is a cry of victory in the last word (“it is finished”)—as a substitute for the “defeat” in Matthew and Mark. Against this see also Brown, Comm. II, p. 931.

162. Others, to bring out the “deeper” meaning of “I thirst,” relate it to the cup saying in 18:11: “Jesus intends to drink the cup of suffering and death to the last dregs. Therefore, he also ‘takes’ the drink presented to him” (Schnackenburg, Comm. III, pp. 283f.; cf. also Brown, Comm. II, p. 930). The comparison with the “last drops” is striking, but the image in 18:11 is symbolically hard to connect with the words “I thirst.”

163. ὄξος, sour wine or vinegar, a cheap diluted sort of wine favored by the poor (cf. BAGD s.v.).

164. In the Septuagint, εἰς τὴν δίψαν μου ἐπóτισάν με ὄξος.

165. On this see at length Blinzler, Prozeß, p. 370, n. 50.

166. ὑσσώπῳ. Precisely what is meant is not clear because the hyssop plant does not develop stalks, which is what is apparently intended here. In Matthew and Mark the reference is more generally to a reed (see, however, Blinzler, Prozeß, p. 370, n. 51). Some therefore follow the ancient conjecture: ὑσσῷ = javelin, which is very attractive but without foundation in the manuscripts. Others believe that the reference here is to (a) hyssop (stalk) because of the use of hyssop in purification—according to Ex. 12:22 especially around Passover. The Evangelist is thought to have chosen this word as an allusion to the blood of the Passover lamb, which was applied to lintels and doorposts with a bundle of hyssop leaves—here in relation to Jesus as Passover lamb. But this is far-fetched, especially because it is by no means certain that the Fourth Gospel thinks of Jesus as the Passover lamb.

167. Against this “Gnostic” explanation, see also Becker, Comm. II, pp. 594f.

168. For other understandings—meaningful as such but not rooted in the text—of “it is finished,” see, e.g., Brown, Comm. II, pp. 907f.; Dauer, Passionsgeschichte, pp. 211f. For example, the eternal sabbath rest now—on this Friday—begins for Jesus as well as the completion of the work which until now he has had to do, even on the sabbath (cf. 5:17).

169. So Becker, Comm. II, p. 596.

170. ἡ ἡμέρα ἐκείνου τοῦ σαββάτου.

171. τὰ σκέλη, “leg bones” (cf. BAGD s.v.).

172. καταγνύναι τὰ σκέλη. For the form of the aorist subjunctive κατεαγῶσιν, see BDF §§66.2; 101 (s.v. ἀγνύναι). ἁρθῶσιν (grammatically connected incorrectly with τὰ σκέλη) obviously refers to the removal of the dead bodies from the cross.

173. So, e.g., Bultmann, Comm., pp. 677f. The Church Fathers, including Origen, and later authors, including Thomas Aquinas, and later Lagrange, Godet, and Loisy took this event to be a miracle.

174. So, e.g., Schnackenburg: The promise in 7:38 “now finds its fulfillment: Out of Jesus’ body (κοιλία!) flow blood and water, a life-giving river” (Comm. III, p. 294). More generally (with no reference to 7:38) also Morris: The Fourth Gospel makes “consistent reference in the use of both terms [blood and water] to the life that Christ gives. We conclude, then, that John is reminding us that life, real life, comes through Christ’s death” (Comm. p. 820); so also Barrett, Comm., p. 556.

175. On this see at length

176. So, e.g., Calvin. He rejects the idea of a miracle, but believes that the Evangelist intended with this precise description of the natural occurrence to point believers, in keeping with 1 Jn. 5:6, to “the true atonement” and “the true washing” brought by the death of Jesus, in the same way as occurs through the sacraments. “For this reason I do not object to Augustine writing that our sacraments have flowed from Christ’s side” (Comm. II, p. 186).

177. For the history of exposition in the ancient church see the very competent treatment of this passage—still convincing in its refutation of the symbolic view—in Zahn, Comm., pp. 663f.

178. ταῦτα, not τοῦτο.

179. See also 1 Jn. 4:2f.; 5:6.

180. For this antithetical view of vs. 34 see, e.g., Zahn, Comm., pp. 663f.; and especially the lengthy defense in G. Richter, Studien zum Johannesevangelium, 1977, pp. 120-42. Against this view is Schnackenburg, Comm. III, pp. 462f., nn. 85, 89.

181. For this interpretation see also Becker, Comm., pp. 599f.

182. ἐκεῖνος.

183. So especially older interpreters like Erasmus but also Lagrange, Zahn, Grosheide, and Hoskyns; also Bultmann, who believes, however, that the text is corrupt; see below.

184. Cf. BDF §291.6.

185. Bultmann (Comm., p. 679) follows the same reasoning, with the fundamental difference that he regards 19:35, like 21:24, as the product of a later redactor who sought to enhance the authority of the Fourth Gospel by attributing it to the beloved disciple. Bultmann regards this attribution as impossible, regarding the beloved disciple as an unhistorical ideal figure and the Fourth Gospel as clearly not the work of an eyewitness. See further in the comments below on 21:24.

Others as well, such as Schnackenburg, regard 19:35 as a later insertion, not the work of the Evangelist, since the Evangelist normally introduces his comments differently. But Schnackenburg’s real objections obviously arise from the idea that this entire identification of the author with the beloved disciple is solely based on the later tendency, said to be manifest also in 21:24, to give greater weight by this means to the authority of this Gospel.

The context, however, gives a clear indication of the originality of 19:35: without it, vs. 36 would have to connect with vs. 34; but the “for” of vs. 36 clearly reflects on the conclusion of vs. 35 and hangs in the air without vs. 35.

186. As in 20:31, so here, too, the reading πιστεύητε is to be preferred over πιστεύσητε; see, e.g., Schnackenburg, Comm. III, p. 463, n. 88: “An instant of ‘coming to believe’ is hardly intended.” The present tense points to the continuation and reinforcement of the faith of the existing community, entirely in keeping with the aim of the Fourth Gospel (see the comments below on 20:30f.).

187. Very clearly intended by γραφή here; witness the words “And again another Scripture says” (vs. 37).

188. Septuagint: ἕν ἐξ αὐτῶν οὐ συντριβήσεται.

189. Septuagint: καὶ ὀστοῦν οὐ συντρίψετε ἀπʼ αὐτοῦ.

190. Septuagint: καὶ ὀστοῦν οὐ συντρίψουσιν ἀπʼ αὐτοῦ.

191. “Which nevertheless would have been so natural” (Bultmann, Comm., p. 677, n. 1) if the Passover lamb were intended here.

192. Not even in 1:29 (see at greater length

193. On the possibility of identifying this figure in the time of the prophet, see, e.g., J. Ridderbos, De kleine Profeten III, 1968, p. 170.

194. The translation of Zc. 12:11 is difficult. The most obvious rendering, “they will look on me [i.e., God], whom they have pierced,” hardly makes good sense. Some, assuming corruption of the text, propose as a conjecture “on him” in place of “on me,” which would completely agree with our text. Others place a period behind “on me” and then continue: “He whom they have pierced—they will mourn over him” (see J. Ridderbos, De kleine Profeten, p. 169).

195. Schnackenburg, Comm. III, p. 294.

196. Arimathea is usually identified with Ramathaim-zophim, mentioned in 1 Sa. 1:1 (Ramah in vs. 19). On the probable location see Brown, Comm. II, p. 938; Schnackenburg, Comm. III, p. 464, n. 105, and the literature mentioned there.

197. For this view see at length

198. Such as Calvin (see also below on vs. 39) and also more recent commentators such as Brown.

199. In 3:1ff. he is not a believer (cf. vss. 10f.), and in 7:50 he is not among the secret believers. On these secret believers (according to the two-level theory, they were projected back into the Gospel from within the later community) see at length

200. Calvin, commenting on 19:38, asks (Comm. II, p. 188): “Where do they suddenly get such heroic courage from, that in the last straits they boldly come out into the open?” He answers: “It is … certain that this was done by a heavenly impulse, so that those who were afraid to give Him due honour while He was alive now hasten to His dead body as if they were new men.” “This shows,” he continues, “the truth of what Christ Himself said, ‘Except a grain of wheat die, it abideth alone; but if it die, it beareth much fruit’ (John 12:24). Here we have an outstanding proof that His death was even more quickening than His life.”

201. So, e.g., BAGD s.v. ἀλóη, μίγμα, and σμύρνα.

202. Cf. Strack/Billerbeck II, p. 53: embalming was not customary among Jews, as it was among Egyptians.

203. So, e.g., Schnackenburg, with an appeal to Blinzler’s description of Jesus’ burial (Comm. III, p. 349).

204. ὀθονίοις; cf. 20:5f.; Lk. 24:12. The Synoptics mention a “linen shroud” (σινδών) that Joseph purchased and wrapped Jesus’ body in, which gives a somewhat different picture. Among Catholic interpreters there is much discussion of the difference because of the shroud of Turin. An assortment of unconvincing attempts have been made to argue that ὀθóνια in John and σινδών in the Synoptics represent the same burial garment (see at length Brown and Schnackenburg). It is clear that John (with a view to 20:5f.) was especially interested in the burial cloths (cf. Lk. 24:12), from which also the risen Lazarus had to be freed (cf. 11:44). But it is doubtful that these burial cloths were the only covering for bodies thus buried. In the case of Lazarus there is mention only of the bandages in which his hands and feet were wrapped. But this seems to assume rather than exclude the presence of a shroud.

205. παρασκευή; see above on vs. 14. There is no question of a Passover preparation. The reference is only to Friday. John is in complete agreement with the Synoptics here (cf. Mk. 15:42; Lk. 23:54; see also Bultmann, Comm., in loc.).

↑ Back to top