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Interpreting John: strategies for reading

Books may be read in many different ways – for information, for enjoyment, for academic criticism, to name just three. They may be read imaginatively and creatively, as a source for inspiration whether artistic, literary, musical or personal. They may be read rapidly and impressionistically, or assiduously with attention to detail, especially by those who may be examined on their contents. They may be compared with other works at a literary level; their historical or scientific value may be assessed by comparison with other evidence; they may be dissected with a view to discovering their sources, the influences on them and their influence on other writings.

The Gospel of John, like other biblical texts, has been subject to many different ways of reading and different methods of interpretation. It has been read devotionally and mystically for spiritual uplift, dogmatically to establish doctrine and controversially to combat what was considered unfaith or ‘heresy’. Its contents and portrait of Jesus have been compared minutely with those of the other Gospels, and the author’s potential sources and method of composition investigated. Its historicity has been questioned and defended, its theology expounded and subjected to criticism. Its social background has been explored, its literary qualities analysed. As indicated earlier, it has also inspired art, music, hymns, poetry and other literature.

This chapter explores how John’s Gospel has been ‘received’ over the centuries and different ways in which it can be read. We outline (a) how John was interpreted from earliest days to the Reformation; (b) how scholarly understanding was transformed by historical-critical analysis; (c) John’s reception in recent literary, feminist, and other studies. It concludes by outlining the approach of the present work.

Church Fathers to the Reformation

The story of this Gospel’s reception begins within the New Testament itself, since the Epistles of John appear to comment on some of its themes.¹ Written probably by a different author, before c.100 CE, these writings apply the Gospel’s teaching on truth, love and the person of Jesus to a new situation. In other words, they use the Gospel pastorally to encourage their readers and help keep them on the right track. A little later, Ignatius (d. c.107 CE), bishop of Syrian Antioch, echoed phrases from John, speaking of Jesus as ‘the door of the Father’ (Phld., 9.1; cf. John 10.9) and of the Spirit knowing whence it comes and whither it goes (Phld., 7.1; cf. John 3.8). Justin Martyr (mid-second century) spoke of Jesus as the Word who ‘became flesh’, and interpreted being ‘born again’ (John 3.3–5) as referring to baptism (1 Apol., 32, 61). Around the same time, Tatian, a Syrian writer who was converted to Christianity while studying rhetoric at Rome, indicated his acceptance of John as Scripture by including it in his Diatessaron, ‘Through Four’, harmonizing the Gospels. John was also cited by Theophilus of Antioch (later second century), an apologist who sought to commend Christianity to outsiders. He used Stoic terminology to expound the Christian faith, making much play with the concept of the logos and distinguishing the logos endiathetos (‘immanent word’), present in God before Creation, from the logos prophorikos (‘expressed word’) after Creation. He quotes directly from the Prologue, attributing it explicitly to ‘John’ (Autol., 2.22).²

Other early Christian leaders, known as controversialists, used John to defend what they saw as the correct form of Christianity against ‘unorthodox’ views. Foremost among these was Irenaeus (c.130–c.200), bishop of Lyons, whose name ironically means ‘peaceful’. He saw John as one of four pillars upholding the Church (the other three being the Synoptics). He used it extensively in his treatise Adversus haereses (‘Against Heresies’), citing it more than 60 times (Elowsky, 2006, p. xxix). Irenaeus is the first patristic author known to ascribe John to an eyewitness, identifying its author as ‘the disciple of the Lord, who lay in his bosom’ (3.11). Among those opposed by Irenaeus were the Phrygian Montanists, whose movement, known as the New Prophecy, was deeply influenced by John’s promise of the Paraclete to lead into all truth (16.13), and whose charismatic ideas and practices were seen as a serious threat to ‘Catholic’ order (Culpepper, 1994, pp. 120f.; Trevett, 1996). Irenaeus also strongly attacked Gnostics, whose name derives from the Greek gnōsis, ‘knowledge’, because they stressed the importance of knowledge of God for salvation. Theirs was a complex system of belief with roots in older oriental thought, combining elements from Greek philosophy, Judaism and Christianity in elaborate mythological speculation. The Gnostics had a dualistic outlook, seeing a sharp dichotomy between spirit and matter, good and evil, often taking a negative view of Creation. In John they found elements that could feed such beliefs, including contrasts between light and darkness, truth and falsehood, flesh and spirit, and negative uses of ‘the world’; but other aspects of John’s message were neglected.

Ptolemaeus (mid-second century), an early Valentinian Gnostic, composed a commentary on John’s Prologue, while the better-known Heracleon wrote extensively on the Gospel (Pagels, 1973). It was also exploited in other Gnostic writings, including those discovered since 1945 at Nag Hammadi in Egypt (Robinson, 1977). These include the Gospel of Truth, ascribed to Valentinus (? c.150 CE), the Trimorphic Protennoia (? c.200) and the Gospel of Philip (? third century). In the face of such extensive use of John by ‘heretics’, Irenaeus’ championship must have played an important role in ensuring its acceptance into the Christian canon.³ To sum up this early period: John was used for pastoral exhortation, for apologetics to pagans, as a source for Gnostic and Christian teaching, and for polemics between ‘orthodox’ and those perceived as heretics.

In the third century two main schools of biblical interpretation dominated: the Alexandrine, which made much use of allegorical exegesis, and the Antiochene, favouring more literal interpretations. Origen (c.185–c.254), former head of the Alexandrine Catechetical School, was immensely learned in theology, philosophy, and grammatical and biblical studies, including Hebrew and textual criticism (cf. his Hexapla). He developed a threefold system of exegesis giving passages a literal, moral and allegorical (or ‘spiritual’) sense. His commentary on John was apparently written in response to an invitation to refute Heracleon. It is on a massive scale, and unfinished: after 15 years’ work writing 32 ‘books’ of commentary (not all of which have survived) he reached only 13.33; his comments on 1.1–17 fill five books! Believing in verbal inspiration, he wrestled with the problem of differences between John and the other Evangelists by harmonizing their accounts where possible and ingeniously allegorizing. He proposed, for example, allegorical interpretations of Jesus’ Temple ‘cleansing’ in which it symbolized Christ’s purging of his Church, and the coming of the Word to the individual soul; the expelled animals stood for different types of human beings, the oxen being the ‘earthly’, the sheep the ‘foolish and sensual’ and the doves the ‘light-headed and easily-swayed’ (Wiles, 1960, pp. 44f.; Trigg, 1983, pp. 151f.).

Another famous allegorizer was Augustine (354–430), who wrote ten volumes of Tractates, ‘Lectures’, on John and a Harmony of the Gospels where he systematically sought to reconcile John’s differences from the Synoptics, e.g. by postulating two separate Temple cleansings (Cons., 2.129). Augustine had a huge admiration for John, seeing him as a preacher of sublime truths, and compared him to a soaring eagle.⁴ The chief problem with such allegorical exegesis is exercising control over the imagination: interpreters all too easily give the text the meaning they want. Thus Cyril of Alexandria (d. 444) took Jesus’ seamless tunic to stand for the Virgin Birth, whereas Cyprian (d. 258) saw it as symbolizing the unity of the Church, reflecting the unity of the Godhead. John describes it as woven ‘without seam, from the top throughout’ (19.23); from this Cyprian deduces that the Church’s unbreakable bond of unity comes from the top, i.e. from God (Unit. eccl., 7). In contrast, Theodore of Mopsuestia (c.350–428), an Antiochene scholar, simply comments that seamless garments were once a common form of dress, though they had died out except for soldiers’ uniforms (Wiles, 1960, p. 25).

The Antiochenes did not limit themselves to simple grammatical or factual exegesis. They also used the Bible to draw ‘spiritual’ and churchly lessons. Thus Chrysostom (c.347–407), a leading member of this school, used the paralysed man in John 5 as a model of perseverance for staying so many years by the pool. He saw Jesus’ warning to him (5.14) as supporting the doctrine of hellfire (Hom. Jo., 37), and the pool apparently as standing for baptism, as did other Church Fathers (Wiles, 1960, p. 51). He was clearly reading into the text beliefs held for other reasons. Today scholars are wary of such ‘eisegesis’; but these Church leaders were not attempting modern historical criticism. They accepted Scripture as divinely inspired, and interpreted it according to the methods of their day; for them it was a natural quarry for moral lessons and doctrine alike. It was also a tool to correct and chastise those with whom they disagreed. A sad feature of some patristic exegesis is the use of John (among other texts) to attack Jews for their ‘unbelief’: thus Chrysostom cited 12.35 to accuse them of walking in darkness (Hom. Jo., 48), while Cyril used 19.13–16 to charge them with ‘murdering’ Jesus. Chrysostom, in particular, has been heavily criticized for his sermons Adversus Ioudaios (preached between 387 and 389).⁵ Yet these were directed not against Jews, but Christian converts from Judaism who were still participating in Jewish festivals and other observances (Wilken, 1983). It is important that such texts are read in their historical context and in the light of the rhetorical conventions of their day.

On the doctrinal side, John’s identification of Jesus with the logos, existing before Creation, and ‘only-begotten’ Son, simultaneously human and divine, played a vital role in the development of Trinitarian dogma, featuring prominently in Arian and other controversies (Pollard, 1970). John’s images of Jesus coming down from heaven and becoming incarnate profoundly influenced the formulation of the creeds: ‘Who for us men, and for our salvation came down from heaven, and was incarnate …’ (Nicene, i.e. Niceno-Constantinopolitan, Creed), as did his reference to the Holy Spirit as ‘the life-giver’.⁶

Some Fathers undertook work more like modern critical scholarship. Dionysius the Great (d. c.264) used linguistic criteria to separate the authorship of Revelation from that of John’s Gospel, declining to identify the author of Revelation with ‘the disciple who reclined on Jesus’ breast’ (Eusebius, Hist. eccl., VII.25). Both Jerome (c.345–420) and Origen worked on establishing a sound text; Antiochene scholars studied grammatical usage. Additionally John played a role in popular imagination, in the development of legends (Culpepper, 1994, esp. ch. 7), and in art with the feeding and Cana miracles, the Samaritan woman and the raising of Lazarus featuring in catacomb paintings, early mosaics and murals.⁷ Imagination and scholarship are together combined in the poetic paraphrase of John in some 3,750 lines by Nonnus of Panopolis in Egypt (fl. fifth century). Written in elegant Homeric hexameters, this poem is a tour-de-force, faithfully following John’s Gospel verse by verse, with some vivid descriptions and interesting characterizations, and incorporating christological and other developments: for example, Jesus’ mother is called theētokos, ‘God-bearer’ (e.g. II.9 = John 2.1); Mary Magdalene, philodakryos, ‘lover of tears’ (e.g. XX.2 = John 20.1); and when Jesus commends his mother to the care of the ‘beloved disciple’ (XIX.139−42 = John 19.26f.), Mary is addressed as ‘woman, lover of virginity, mother’, and the ‘beloved disciple’ is called her ‘virgin son’ – an allusion to a belief (found in other sources) that the apostle John himself remained a virgin. Dismissed by some scholars as ‘of scant interest’ (so Cross and Livingstone, 1997, p. 1160), this neglected poem makes a marked contrast with some of the popular legends concerning John, as found, for example, in the apocryphal Acts of John. This turgid writing (of possibly second- to third-century origin) narrates numerous miracles, including the apostle making bed bugs behave themselves and himself being blinded for two years to preserve his virginity, so that when he regained his sight he found it repugnant to look closely at a woman (Acts of John 60f.; 113). Nonnus’ Paraphrase is all the more remarkable in that the author also wrote a 20,000-line epic on the pagan god Dionysus.

Devotional, controversial, dogmatic and imaginative interpretations dominated the understanding of John throughout the medieval period. A type of fourfold exegesis (a development of Origen’s threefold system) became common, involving literal, moral, allegorical and mystical interpretations. The Glossa Ordinaria, a standard medieval commentary, included catenae (chains of quotations) from Fathers and other scholars. Rupert of Deutz (c.1075–1129) was among those writing new commentaries. He favoured mystical and allegorical interpretations, while Albertus Magnus, Thomas Aquinas and Bonaventure preferred more literal exegesis (Schnackenburg, 1968, p. 207). An outstanding commentator was Nicolas de Lyra (c.1270–1349), a converted French Jew, who became a Franciscan. He was one of the few medieval Christian scholars to know Hebrew, and made extensive use of rabbinic and other Jewish materials in his Postillae, ‘Comments’ (Krey and Smith, 2000, pp. 223–49).

Alongside such scholarly study came creative interpretations in mystery plays, music, poetry, illuminated manuscripts (e.g. the Book of Kells) and other art. A curious feature of medieval devotion is the idea of the ‘deification’ of the Fourth Gospel author, whose thought was seen as so sublime that he mounted above the clouds and reached ‘the liquid light of heaven’ (so Alcuin of Tours). In art, he is represented as Christlike, sometimes enthroned between angels, or sometimes as a priest or deacon at Mass, making Christ present as he had done in his Gospel (details, with illustrations, in Hamburger, 2002, ch. 2). A hymn attributed to Adam of St Victor refers to him as a ‘blessed resting-place of grace’ (felix sedes gratiae), who gazed at the supreme King of Glory unrepelled, and whom the Spirit made divine (Johannem deificat … spiritus), the river that leads to the fountain (Hamburger, 2002, p. 63). Illuminated manuscripts, ivories, altar frontals and statue groups all depict the ‘beloved disciple’, identified as the apostle John, leaning on Jesus’ breast, paired with John the Baptist, or with the Virgin Mary, one each side of Jesus on the cross (a favourite theme on rood screens).

A long tradition of Johannine themes in religious painting continued through the Renaissance and beyond. Subjects included The Wedding at Cana by Gérard David (1503), Jesus and the Woman of Samaria by Filippino Lippi, Rembrandt’s risen Christ showing his wounds to Thomas (1634) and appearing to Mary Magdalene dressed as a gardener (1638). Particularly dramatic is Rembrandt’s Raising of Lazarus (c.1630), where Jesus stands, right arm raised high, gazing with an intent, almost anguished, expression at the recumbent, half-awakened Lazarus, who grasps the edge of his coffin as if to rise; Martha, Mary and three elderly Jews look on in amazement.⁸ Among music inspired by this Gospel are Bach’s St John Passion and numerous settings of the Stabat Mater (interesting discussion in Wheeler, 2012, pp. 189−98).

With the rise of humanism came revived interest in biblical languages and textual criticism, notably by Erasmus (d.1536). John played its part in Reformation controversies, especially over the interpretation of the Eucharist. The Reformers, led by Luther (1483–1546), saw Scripture as the sole source of authority, rejecting allegory (much used by the Roman Catholic Church) in favour of the ‘natural sense’ of the words. Several wrote commentaries on John, including Calvin (1509–64), who saw it as a ‘key to open the door’ to understanding the other Gospels (Parker, 1959, p. 6); his commentary still offers illuminating insights. Luther also admired John and wrote several volumes of sermons on it; but they do not show him at his best, being marred by tendentious and crudely polemical outbursts against ‘the schismatic spirits’, ‘Papists’, ‘Turks’ (i.e. Muslims) and ‘the Jews’ (Pelikan, 1957, pp. 17, etc.; 1959, pp. 348f.). His later work, On the Jews and Their Lies (1543), goes further, directly inciting hatred and violence against Jews, and so frequently maligning them that scholars hesitated to publish it for fear of misuse (Bertram, in Sherman, 1971, p. 123); it shocked even Luther’s contemporaries. This was not an exegetical work, but it does cite John along with other New Testament writings in support of its views.

Historical-critical analysis

The eighteenth century saw fresh challenges to the interpretation of Scripture from the Enlightenment, with its distrust of authority and tradition, and its application of reason to intellectual enquiry. The rise of historical criticism in Germany is generally traced to this period (Kümmel, 1973, pp. 51–119): it involves interpreting texts as objectively as possible, free from restraints of ecclesiastical control. Practitioners may accept the Bible’s truth claims or be agnostic or sceptical about them. Questions of authorship, genre, purpose, sources and redaction loom large, but there is deep interest in theological content, historicity and cultural context (Marshall, 1979; Barton, 2007, esp. ch. 3). There was also much work done on textual criticism (on John’s text see further Excursus 1).

An early effect of historical criticism was to challenge the long-accepted view of the apostle John as author, and the Gospel’s historical reliability for Jesus’ life and teaching (Ashton, 1991, pp. 9–43). John’s Gospel tended to be seen as fundamentally ‘Hellenistic’, indebted to Platonic, Stoic and Gnostic thought, and its final composition was placed well into the second century CE. It was generally assumed to be dependent on the Synoptics. Detailed literary and source analysis led to the discovery of anomalies (aporias), with resulting theories of displacement (accidental misplacing of sections of text) and multiple sources and editions. In continental Europe, scholars such as Faure (1922) sought to recover an original Grundschrift, ‘basic document’, possibly a Wunderbuch or ‘miracle book’. Nevertheless, some continued to maintain both apostolic authorship and historical reliability. Outstanding among these was B. F. Westcott (1825–1901), bishop, textual critic and Johannine scholar. He produced a five-stage argument that: (a) the author of John was a Jew; (b) he was a Jew from Palestine; (c) he was an eyewitness; (d) he was an apostle; (e) he was John, the son of Zebedee (1919, pp. v–xxv; orig. edn 1880). Others who affirmed the Jewish character of John included J. B. Lightfoot (Westcott’s predecessor at Durham) in his Biblical Essays (published posthumously in 1893), and A. Schlatter (1902) and H. Odeberg (1929) who both cited numerous parallels in rabbinic literature. Thus radicals and conservatives produced differing results from the same historical-critical method.

An important group around this time was the Religionsgeschichtliche Schule, ‘History of Religions School’, which interpreted New Testament texts in the light of their contemporary religious setting. Reitzenstein and Bousset compared John’s ideas with those of Hellenistic ‘mystery cults’. Bultmann (1925) drew on newly published Mandaean texts (in Aramaic) to interpret John. The Mandaeans, who lived in an area that is now part of Iraq and Iran, were strongly dualistic in their thought, their beliefs centring on the ‘great king of light’ (‘the great life’) and his opponent, the ruler of the realm of darkness. Bultmann made extensive use of their writings in his influential commentary (1971; 1st edn 1941); but in his enthusiasm for the new discoveries he overestimated their significance. The Mandaean texts date from a much later period than John, their so-called redeemer myth not being securely attested before the eighth century CE, and are ‘an extraordinary farrago of theology, myth, fairy-tale, ethical instruction, ritual ordinances, and what purports to be history’ (Dodd, 1953, p. 115). Bultmann is also famous for his existential reading of John and for his source criticism (Fergusson, 1992, pp. 94–106).

Other writings that have influenced Johannine interpretation are the Hermetic tractates from Egypt (Corpus Hermeticum), dating to around the second and third centuries CE (though a few texts may be earlier). These were reputedly written by Hermes Trismegistos, ‘Thrice-greatest’,⁹ who dialogues with his sons on topics such as truth, knowledge, light and rebirth, in language similar to John’s. The Hermetica speak of Logos, ‘Word’, or Nous, ‘Mind’, as the divine agent in Creation and an intermediary between God and humanity, and see salvation as lying in knowledge of God (cf. John 17.3: ‘This is eternal life, that they may know you, the only true God …’). Dodd used these writings extensively in his major work The Interpretation of John (1953). He also adduced parallels to John from the writings of Philo (c.20 BCE–c.50 CE), an Alexandrine Jew who interpreted Judaism in the light of Greek philosophy. Philo frequently mentions the logos, speaking of it as ‘divine’, and as ‘God’s firstborn son’. Dodd concluded that John was written to commend Christianity to educated pagans and Hellenized Jews familiar with such concepts.

Other texts used to interpret John are the Coptic Gnostic library from Nag Hammadi (already discussed), the Odes of Solomon,¹⁰ and the Dead Sea Scrolls, discovered at Qumran from 1947 (Martínez, 1996; Vermes, 1998). The Dead Sea Scrolls, written in Hebrew or Aramaic, are especially important as coming from Palestine itself and definitely pre-dating John (Qumran was destroyed in 70 CE). Like other writings already mentioned, they feature polarities between good and evil, light and darkness, truth and falsehood, and contain verbal parallels to John. Some scholars were so impressed by these that they concluded that John must have had direct links with Qumran.¹¹ But some of the phrases and ideas which he shares with the Scrolls are found in other Jewish sources, including the Septuagint (LXX or Greek Old Testament) and the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs.¹² The Dead Sea Scrolls are especially valuable for the light they shed on Jewish exegetical methods, and for providing a Jewish context for aspects of John’s Christology.

Their publication led to what has been called the ‘new look’ on John (Robinson, 1962, pp. 94–106; Smalley, 1978, ch. 1), in which it was acclaimed as no longer ‘Hellenistic’, but truly ‘Jewish’.¹³ This in turn led to more positive assessments of its historical reliability and fresh support for the idea of apostolic authorship (e.g. Morris, 1969, 1972). Such scholars were strongly influenced by Gardner-Smith (1938), who argued that John was independent of the Synoptics, relying on oral traditions. These ideas were seemingly reinforced by Dodd’s second major work (1963). Armed with these materials, Robinson (1976, 1985) argued for a date of composition before 70 CE.

The ‘new look’ never caught on in continental Europe. Scholars there continued to question John’s historical worth, and to maintain his dependence on the Synoptics or other written sources (e.g. Nicol, 1972; Neirynck, 1977; Boismard et al., 1977). In the UK, Barrett (1955, 1978) supported John’s dependence on Mark and Luke, while others opted for a compromise that John knew traditions close to the Synoptics, but not the Gospels themselves (e.g. Lindars, 1972). Others, from Germany and the USA, preferred to talk of cross-currents or interlocking connections between the Johannine and Synoptic traditions (Schnackenburg, 1968, p. 42; Carson, 1991, p. 51). John’s relationship to the Synoptics remains controversial, with some scholars maintaining dependence and others modified views of independence. There has also been some recent defence of John’s historical worth (see Chapter 4).

The twentieth century saw a proliferation of commentaries on John (see Edwards, 1992), including Schnackenburg’s magisterial three-volume work (ET 1968–82) and Brown’s monumental Anchor Bible Commentary (1966).¹⁴ Both these scholars initially accepted a link between this Gospel and the apostle John, but later changed their minds; both postulated a long complex tradition-history. Johannine scholarship has also flourished in numerous monographs and articles, some strongly influenced by sociological theory and social-scientific analysis, especially Berger and Luckmann (1967). This has led to a widespread hypothesis that John stems from a small community¹⁵ with a ‘sectarian’ outlook, locked in bitter conflict with the Jewish Synagogue (the proponents differ over the degree of bitterness and sectarianism).¹⁶ This hypothesis has become so popular that it is often simply assumed. Yet problems remain that have not been properly tackled, including the complexity of the community’s hypothetical development, its supposed transfer from Palestine to Asia Minor, and the sociological basis for its isolation and ‘sectarianism’.¹⁷ Serious questions have also been raised about the nature and dating of the ‘Synagogue ban’ that is supposed to have triggered the conflict. Not all recent historical-critical work is concerned with such issues. There has also been solid exegetical scholarship and insightful work on broader topics of Johannine theology.

Since 2000 the number of commentaries on John has continued to grow, with important contributions by Keener (2003); Thyen (2005); von Wahlde (2010).¹⁸ Social-scientific criticism continues to be practised (with an emphasis on such concepts as honour, ‘brokerage’, patronage and ‘virtuoso’ religion), and there has been renewed interest in the history of interpretation and how the Gospel has been received by the Church.¹⁹

Newer literary and other approaches

Some are dissatisfied with the ostensibly objective historical-critical method. They believe that too much effort has been spent on ‘excavating’ biblical books as if they were archaeological tells, while failing to appreciate the texts as literary wholes (cf. Alter and Kermode, 1987). This has given rise to fresh approaches including narrative, reader-response, rhetorical, feminist and liberationist criticisms (cf. Barton, 1998). Narrative criticism seeks to enable readers to understand texts without reference to their literary development or historical context. One of the first scholars to apply it to John was Culpepper (1983). He analysed the Gospel under headings such as ‘narrator’, ‘plot’ and ‘characters’, drawing attention to many conventions previously taken for granted, for example, the omniscient, omnipresent narrator, and the difference between the real author and the implied author evoked by the text. He and others²⁰ have also highlighted narrative devices and ironies. Such critics have done much to open people’s eyes to the literary artistry of this Gospel, and to redress the balance of more atomistic historical criticism. But their works are sometimes marred by technical jargon and over-elaborate analyses (examples in Mlakuzhyil, 1987, ch. 2).

Reader-response criticism concentrates on how texts are received by readers, whether actual, ‘authorial’ (the audience assumed by the author), ‘narrative’ or ‘implied’ (on these terms see Bockmuehl, 2006, pp. 68−74). Its techniques are similar to those of narrative criticism, and are often applied alongside it. Reader-response critics are interested in how readers’ prior knowledge affects their understanding. Like narrative critics, they usually reject the concept of authorial intention, assuming that there is no single correct way to read a text. Jasper (1998, p. 31), for example, calls the text ‘an intangible substance’, which each new reader ‘puts on’ according to her or his own desires and anxieties. This approach easily leads to idiosyncratic readings (e.g. Staley, 1988). At the same time reader-response critics have done a good task in heightening awareness of the presuppositions all readers bring to texts, as pointed out long ago by Bultmann. It is now widely recognized that interpretation is affected not only by people’s religious and philosophical beliefs, but also by their gender, ethnic origins, social class and life experience (see further Segovia, ed., 1996, 1998; Lozada and Thatcher, eds, 2006, including M. Kraus on Jewish interpretations). A rather different approach is that of Tilborg (1996), who with the aid of inscriptions and other ancient sources explores how John’s Gospel might have been understood by readers at Ephesus in the first century CE.

Rhetoric is the art of literary and oral expression, ‘that quality in discourse by which a speaker or writer seeks to accomplish his purposes’ (Kennedy, 1984, p. 1). Rhetorical criticism considers formal literary devices (e.g. ‘inclusio’, ‘repetitio’, ‘prolepsis’), and the impact of texts on their readers and hearers. Thus it overlaps with both narrative and reader-response criticisms. It has been applied effectively to John by Kennedy (1984) and Davies (1992). More recent studies tend to be more theoretical and sometimes oversubtle.

Feminist and liberationist approaches, sometimes called ‘advocacy criticism’ (Brown, 1997, pp. 27f.), are ideological, proposing ways of reading texts which can change attitudes. Many of them denounce the evils of ‘patriarchy’, ‘hierarchy’ and ‘imperialism’, and actively seek to promote equality and mutuality between women and men, and between people of different ‘classes’ or cultural and economic backgrounds. Feminist critics are especially interested in how women read texts, and how texts affect women. A leading exponent is Fiorenza, who argues that biblical texts are essentially androcentric (male-centred) and ‘kyriocentric’ (treating men as dominant in society), and need deconstruction. She therefore advocates a ‘hermeneutic of suspicion’, whereby texts are read not just on their surface level, but with a view to uncovering what has been suppressed. She argues that women once played a much larger role in the Jesus movement than one might suppose from the New Testament (e.g. Fiorenza 1983, 1993a, 1995), and that John reflects an inclusive, egalitarian community, some of whose leaders were women (1983, pp. 323–34; for criticisms, see Ng, 2002).

Among other feminist scholars, O’Day (1992), Reinhartz (1994) and Schneiders (1999) all see John’s portrayal of women as basically sympathetic. Fehribach (1998), however, is highly critical of his ‘androcentric’ attitudes, seeing John as using his female characters to advance his portrayal of Jesus as ‘the messianic bridegroom’. Schneiders has the most self-conscious methodology, combining literary, feminist, reader-response and historical-critical approaches. She reads John as essentially a symbolic narrative that can be decoded for spiritual edification (cf. Alexandrine allegorical exegesis). She also argues that its author was a woman. So far only women scholars have been mentioned; but some male scholars show sympathy with feminist perspectives, notably Brown (1979, pp. 183–98); Moloney (e.g. 1985, 1993); Scott (1992); Maccini (1996).

Liberation theologians (like some feminists) are not concerned with detailed exegesis of texts, but rather their impact on society and ways in which they may be used to foster ideals like justice and freedom. Gutiérrez (1984) is inspired by John’s teaching on the Spirit and his image of the ‘living water’; Schillebeeckx finds in John a paradigm for a non-hierarchical pattern of church ministry, seeing the Johannine corpus as ‘a biblical admonition against any legalistic garb for church authority’ (1981, p. 29). Several scholars seek to show John’s concern for the poor and marginalized (details in Ling, 2006, pp. 172f.; John is the only Gospel to mention the disciples’ common purse and almsgiving: 12.5f.; 13.29). Rensberger even interprets John’s reference to new birth (3.3–5) as meaning that Christians must identify with those on the borders of society, viewing John’s ‘community’ as a powerless, marginal group struggling against the powerful Synagogue and challenging the values of the world (1988, pp. 113–16; cf. 1998, 1999). One problem with this view, as Rensberger is well aware, is John’s depiction of ‘the Jews’ as Jesus’ opponents – a people historically discriminated against and oppressed, their oppression culminating in the Holocaust. In recent years John’s underlying ‘anti-Jewishness’ has become a focus of concern to those seeking to eliminate anti-Semitism and improve Christian–Jewish relations, and has been the subject of academic projects and colloquia (see Farmer, 1999; Bieringer et al., 2001), and much writing.

Artistic, poetic and devotional interpretation

The rise of historical criticism in no way stemmed the inspiration felt from this Gospel by artists, poets, hymn-writers and worshipping Christians. In a long poem, A Death in the Desert (1864), Robert Browning immortalized his image of the aged apostle John, the last surviving eyewitness of Jesus, supported by his followers facing death in faith and love. Perhaps in reaction against German scholarship sceptical of the Gospel’s historical value, Browning (in the persona of John) affirms God as Truth (line 430), the divinity of Christ (line 686) and the Evangelist’s spiritual insight:

        What first were guessed as points, I now knew stars:

        And named them in the Gospel I have writ.

(lines 174f.)

Other poets influenced by John’s Gospel include Palgrave (who also wrote a poem on John’s death), George Herbert, Longfellow, Emily Dickinson, R. S. Thomas and Denise Levertov (see further Gardner, 2011; Wheeler, 2012, who also discusses art). Among devotional writers we may mention William Temple (1939, 1940), O’Flynn (1999) on Lectio Divina with John; Vanier (2004); and Richardson (2013), aimed at thoughtful general readers and discussion groups. Some academic writers also offer devotional insights.

The approach of the present work

This study is based on the historical-critical method and the belief that knowledge of the literary, social, historical and religious settings of texts enhances understanding and prevents misconceptions. Its quest is to discover, as far as possible, what the original author(s) of John intended to communicate – the true work of exegesis. Newer criticisms (including the ‘afterlife’ of the text) will not be neglected where they are illuminating, but since a Gospel is primarily a theological work, read for its religious message rather than its literary merit, the chief focus will be on content. The task will be not only to expound and clarify its message, but also to assess it critically (what the Germans call Sachkritik, ‘content criticism’). At the same time it will be recognized that for Christians John is not just a writing of historical, theological and antiquarian interest, but a Gospel in the full sense of the word – with power to communicate, thrill and inspire. It is hoped that, from the rather clinical discussion of issues like authorship and sources, and the analysis of how individual passages may be interpreted, a sense will emerge of the Gospel’s original aim of conveying a life-enhancing message, still relevant to the Church and the contemporary world. ‘These things are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Anointed, the Son of God, and that believing you may have life in his Name’ (20.31).