And part of loving one another is feeding the multitude.
The implicit connection between the feeding of the five thousand and the exodus story is made explicit in John. In his discourse, John explicitly refers to Israel’s ancestors being fed with manna in the wilderness. But John’s point is not simply similarity to the exodus; he also emphasizes contrast. While Jesus “gives life to the world” as “the bread of life,” the manna of the exodus did not give life: “Your ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness, and they died.” What Moses gave them was not the true bread from heaven.85
But Jesus is “the true bread” and “the living bread,” and “whoever eats of this bread will live forever.”86
Thus in John the point is not really that Jesus now feeds people in the wilderness as God did in the exodus story. The point, rather, is that Jesus provides that which was not provided in the time of the exodus: living bread.
Sight to the Blind
I have already commented briefly about two synoptic “sight to the blind” stories as metaphorical narratives that also reflect history remembered.87 Here I will focus on a story in John’s gospel that deals with Jesus giving sight to a man blind from birth. I leave unaddressed the question of whether this particular healing happened. For a metaphorical reading, the question does not matter.
John devotes the whole of his ninth chapter to the story and its aftermath. The first part of the chapter narrates the healing itself. Jesus gives sight to the man “born blind” by making a paste of clay and spittle and spreading it on his eyes. The second part concerns the interrogation of the once-blind man and his parents by “the Pharisees” and “the Jews.” The response of the man’s parents to the interrogation is cautious and careful, because, we are told, “they were afraid of the Jews; for the Jews had already agreed that anyone who confessed Jesus to be the Messiah would be put out of the synagogue.” Then the formerly blind man is interrogated again, and when he unambiguously affirms that Jesus is from God, he is driven out of the synagogue.88
Intrinsic Metaphorical Meanings The intrinsic metaphors in this story are “light” and “seeing.” As John often does, he makes the intrinsic metaphors explicit. He does so in words attributed to Jesus and the blind man:
Jesus: “I am the light of the world.”
The blind man: “Once I was blind, but now I see. . . . Jesus opened my eyes.”89
The metaphors connect to a major theme of John’s story of Jesus: Jesus is the light who brings enlightenment. One chapter before this blind-man-healed story, some of the same language is used: “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life.”90
This theme is prominently announced in the elegant prologue to John’s gospel. The Word (and Wisdom) of God that became incarnate in Jesus is the life and light of all people:91
The light shines in the darkness,
and the darkness did not overcome it. . . .
The true light which enlightens everyone
was coming into the world.92
Darkness and light, blindness and seeing, light and enlightenment—these are archetypal religious metaphors common to many traditions. Though the imagery is used in the Hebrew Bible, the archetypal associations are more important for our purposes than the specifically historical associations.93 “Being in the dark” and “blindness” are frequent cross-cultural images for the human condition, just as “light,” “seeing,” and “enlightenment” are images for the deliverance from that state of affairs.
Enlightenment as an archetypal religious metaphor belongs to a mystical way of being religious. Outside of the Jewish and Christian traditions, the best-known enlightenment experience is the Buddha’s mystical experience. Such an experience leads to seeing everything differently. It is not simply an intellectual or mental “seeing,” as when we say, “Oh, I see what you mean.” Rather, enlightenment as a religious experience involves communion or union with what is, an immediate “knowing” of the sacred that transforms one’s way of seeing.
So it is in John: enlightenment is a central metaphor for salvation. To have one’s eyes opened, to be enlightened, is to move from the negative pole of John’s contrasting symbols to the positive pole. To move from darkness to light is also to move from death to life, from falsehood to truth, from life in the flesh to life in the Spirit, from life “below” to life “from above.”94
To be enlightened is to be born “from above” and “of the Spirit”—in other words, to be “born again.” Thus the “born again” experience in John is an enlightenment experience.95
The language of enlightenment connects to John’s emphasis upon knowing God. For John, such knowing is the primary meaning of “eternal life”—not a future state beyond death but an experience in the present. To know God is eternal life: “This is eternal life, that they may know you, the only true God.” Of course, for John, the true God is known in Jesus, and so the second half of the verse continues with “and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent.”96 For John, the Christian enlightenment experience is knowing God in Jesus.
Historical Metaphorical Meanings In the judgment of most scholars, the interrogation in the second part of John 9, with its language of being “put out of the synagogue,” points to the historical context in which the gospel was written: late in the first century.97
A synagogue, of course, was a local Jewish assembly of teaching and worship. In that world, being “put out” (expelled) from the synagogue was far more serious than being expelled from a Christian congregation or denomination is in our world. Whereas we can simply find and join another church, those who were expelled from the synagogue were no longer considered Jews (or at least not acceptable Jews). In a traditional society where most people lived their entire life in the same village or town, this was a powerful social sanction. Those who were expelled faced social ostracism: among other things, expulsion disrupted relationships within families and with neighbors and made marriage to “proper” Jews difficult or impossible.
Followers of Jesus were not threatened with expulsion from the synagogue during his lifetime. At the earliest, this happened a decade or two after the destruction of the temple in 70. John 9 thus not only suggests an approximate date for the gospel but also points to the historical situation with which John and his community were dealing: bitter conflict between Jews and Christian Jews. As it did in the gospel of Matthew, this conflict shapes John’s story of Jesus. In particular, it accounts for John’s use of “the Jews” as a negative symbol of disbelief. And worse: though “the Jews” claim to have Abraham and God for their father, they are neither Abraham’s children nor God’s children. Rather—and somewhat shockingly—the Jesus of John says, “You are from your father the devil.”98 The conflict situation helps us to understand this language, even as we must also regret and reject it.
Jesus as “the Way”
Jesus said, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life; no one comes to the Father except through me.”99
The last text we shall explore is also from John. It is troubling to many mainline Christians in our time because of how it has commonly been heard and read through the Christian centuries: it has been the classic “proof text” for Christian exclusivism—the notion that salvation is possible only through Jesus, and thus only through Christianity.
Intrinsic Metaphorical Meanings Although this text, like the others we have looked at, has specific historical relevance, it also has universal meanings. We gain access to those meanings by paying attention to the metaphor at the heart of the text: Jesus is “the way.” A way is a path or a road or a journey, not a set of beliefs.100
So Jesus is “the way.” But what does this metaphor, applied to a person, mean? More specifically, what is Jesus’ “way” in John’s gospel (or what is “the way” which Jesus is)? The answer is found in the movement or dynamic of the gospel as a whole as well as in a single verse:
In the gospel as a whole: From the inaugural scene on
ward, Jesus’ way leads to his death—which is also, for John, his glorification.101
The way to life in the presence of God is through death.
In a single verse: The Jesus of John says, “Very truly I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.”102
In short, for John the way or path of Jesus is the path of death and resurrection understood as a metaphor for the religious life. That way—the path of dying to an old way of being and being born into a new way of being—is the only way to God.
The same point is made in a story I once heard about a sermon preached by a Hindu professor in a Christian seminary several decades ago. The text for the day included the “one way” passage, and about it he said, “This verse is absolutely true—Jesus is the only way.” But he went on to say, “And that way—of dying to an old way of being and being born into a new way of being—is known in all of the religions of the world.” The way of Jesus is a universal way, known to millions who have never heard of Jesus.
The way of Jesus is thus not a set of beliefs about Jesus. That we ever thought it was is strange, when one thinks about it—as if one entered new life by believing certain things to be true, or as if the only people who can be saved are those who know the word “Jesus.” Thinking that way virtually amounts to salvation by syllables. Rather, the way of Jesus is the way of death and resurrection—the path of transition and transformation from an old way of being to a new way of being.
Finally, the language of incarnation, so central to John, is crucial for understanding the threefold affirmation of this verse: Jesus is not only “the way,” but also “the truth, and the life.” Incarnation means embodiment. Jesus is the way—Jesus is what the way embodied in a person looks like. Jesus is the truth—Jesus is what the truth embodied in a person looks like. Jesus is the life—Jesus is what life (real life) embodied in a person looks like. Taking Jesus seriously is not about a set of beliefs but about a person in whom we see embodied the way, the truth, and the life.
Historical Metaphorical Meanings As in John’s gospel generally, though “I am the way, and the truth, and the life” is attributed to Jesus, it does not go back to Jesus himself. Rather, it is the product of a later stage in the developing tradition and was perhaps created by the author of John himself.
One key to reading this text is to set it in the historical context of John’s gospel: a situation of bitter conflict in which John’s community of Christian Jews was experiencing sharp social ostracism from non-Christian Jews. As a result, some of John’s community may have been tempted to return to their community of origin.
In that setting, John wrote these words. He was thinking not of all the religions of the world, but of the synagogue across the street. He was saying, in effect, Stay within the community of Jesus. Don’t go back to the way you left behind. Jesus is the way; that way isn’t.
Even as we understand the text this way, it is important not to turn it into a rejection of Judaism, as if other religions might be all right, but not Judaism. In short, reading the verse in historical context relativizes it. It is not an absolute pronouncement about all other religions or about all other forms of Judaism for all time; rather, it is a pastoral exhortation in a particular historical setting.
Conclusion
The gospel portraits of the canonical Jesus make extraordinary claims about him. He is one with God and shares in the power and authority of God. He is the revelation of God. He is also the revelation of “the way,” not only in John but also in the synoptics. He is the bread of life who satisfies the deepest hunger of human beings and the light shining in the darkness who brings enlightenment. He lifts us out of death into life. He is the Word and Wisdom of God embodied in a human life. He is the disclosure of what a life full of God—a life filled with the Spirit—looks like.
This is who Jesus is for us as Christians. Some modern Christians have been uncomfortable with these claims because they seem to partake of Christian triumphalism. But for Christians, these claims should not be watered down. For us as Christians, Jesus is not less than this—he is all of this. And we can say “This is who Jesus is for us” without also saying “And God is known only in Jesus.”
The gospels—as particular documents, as a collection of documents, and as individual stories within them—are Christianity’s primal narratives. To say this means that these are the most important stories we know, and we know them to be decisively true.
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9
Reading Paul Again
As I begin this chapter, I sit at a sidewalk café on a busy street in the city of Thessaloniki in northern Greece. Around the year 50, Paul wrote a letter to a small community of Christians in this city. Now called I Thessalonians, that letter is the earliest document of what eventually became the New Testament. Nothing remains of the city that Paul knew; the centuries have covered it over. And as I sit here, I wonder again: What was he like?
Next to Jesus, Paul is the most important individual in the birth of what became Christianity. More of the New Testament documents were written by him than by any other person. And, more than anybody else, he was responsible for the spread of the Jesus movement into the Gentile world.
But despite his importance, Paul has a very mixed press today, even among Christians. Some love and admire him, others keep their distance, and still others despise him. Though all Christians have heard of him, many do not know much about him.
I encountered this mixture of attitudes while teaching a seminary course on the New Testament. During the first part of the course on Jesus and the gospels, the students were attentive, engaged and excited. Then we got to Paul, and the mood of the class changed. Whereas everybody had felt positive about Jesus, most were wary of Paul. Though some had a definite (and sometimes favorable) interest, the majority were indifferent or grumpy or even hostile.
A number of factors feed the negativity regarding Paul. Some people (including some historians) see Paul as the perverter of the gospel of Jesus, someone who turned Jesus of Nazareth into a divine being and distorted Jesus’ message into a complex and convoluted abstract mythological-theological belief system. In the view of these particular critics, Jesus is good, Paul is bad. Certain other critics see Paul as a puritanical moralist preoccupied with sin and guilt, sacrifice and atonement. Still others are put off particularly by passages about gender and sex. The most negative statement about women in the New Testament is found in a letter attributed to Paul, and other passages commonly attributed to Paul speak about the duty of wives to submit themselves to their husbands.1 Paul is frequently quoted negatively about homosexuality and even about sexuality in general.2 Moreover, Paul’s letters are often difficult and obscure, opaque rather than luminous.
I grant that Paul is flawed (though no more so than the rest of us) and often difficult to understand. He has often been used in ways that are injurious. Yet I acknowledge that I am an admirer of Paul. My appreciation flows in part out of my Protestant and Lutheran heritage, though I hope that more than my early conditioning is involved. When we separate the genuine letters of Paul from those attributed to him, some of the more disturbing passages disappear. Moreover, when we take seriously Paul’s own religious experience, the historical context of his letters, and the central metaphors that shaped his message, we find an apostle whose teaching and passion stand in considerable continuity with Jesus.
Our primary sources for glimpsing Paul are seven of the thirteen letters attributed to him. About these seven there is a strong consensus that he was the author. They are, in approximate chronological order, I Thessalonians, Galatians, I and II Corinthians, Philemon, Philippians, and Romans. Most likely all of these were written in the decade of the 50s. The authorship of another three letters is disputed, though a majority of scholars maintain that they were written not by Paul but in his name after his death: Colossians, Ephesians, and II Thessalonians. Finally, ther
e is a near-consensus that the remaining three are definitely not by Paul. Called the “Pastoral Epistles,” they are I and II Timothy and Titus.
The book of Acts serves as a secondary source. More than half of that document is about Paul, though there is a wide range of scholarly opinion about the historical accuracy of its account. Acts reports much that Paul’s letters do not, for example. This is not surprising or particularly significant, given the different literary genres. However, when there is overlap between Acts and the letters, Acts is sometimes consistent with the letters and sometimes not, making it difficult to assess the historical accuracy of Acts when there is no overlap. Some scholars think that the author of Acts was a companion of Paul and therefore an eyewitness to some of what he reports, whereas other scholars think that the story of Paul in Acts is dominated by literary and not historical concerns. Thus, for Paul’s teaching, I will use only his genuine letters, though I will occasionally use Acts for other matters.
On the Damascus Road
The decisive event in Paul’s life was his experience of the risen Christ on the road to Damascus. That experience transformed Paul. Before Damascus, he was a zealous persecutor of the Jesus movement; afterward, he became its foremost apostle.
Reading the Bible again for the First Time Page 21