Traditionally this Gospel has been ascribed to the apostle John, the son of Zebedee, identified with the disciple who reclined on Jesus’ bosom, also credited with writing Revelation and 1–3 John. Since the rise of critical scholarship, these attributions have been challenged and increasingly rejected. This chapter reviews the evidence for apostolic authorship of John and argues that a more complex theory of composition is necessary.
The ‘beloved disciple’
The key to the traditional attribution is the figure known as the ‘beloved disciple’, whom John introduces at the Last Supper with the words, ‘There was reclining in Jesus’ bosom one of his disciples, whom Jesus loved’ (13.23). This figure reappears at the crucifixion, when Jesus commends his mother and the ‘beloved disciple’ to one another (19.26f.). He is generally assumed to be the same person as the anonymous witness who testifies to the flow of blood and water from Jesus’ side (19.35), and the ‘other disciple’ who, after Jesus’ arrest, follows him to the High Priest’s house, and gets Peter admitted to the courtyard (18.15f.). After the Resurrection he runs to the tomb with Peter, enters it, ‘and believes’ (20.2–10). In the Epilogue he is one of the seven fishermen who see the risen Jesus on the shore, being the first to recognize him (21.7). All these references occur in the Passion and Resurrection Narratives. However, some scholars suggest the ‘beloved disciple’ might also be identified with the anonymous disciple of the Baptist, who became a follower of Jesus along with Andrew (1.35–40). This seems unlikely: there is no hint of this in the text (contrast 20.2), and the reference is widely separated from all the other appearances of the beloved disciple.
The most intriguing passage is 21.24, which says of the ‘beloved disciple’: ‘This is the disciple who bears witness about these things and who wrote these things, and we know that his witness is true.’ From antiquity it was assumed that this testimony concerns the authorship of the Gospel. But there are problems: the plural ‘we know’ suggests an authenticating group distinct from the main author. It is widely thought that 21.24 was added to give credibility to John’s narrative.1 Moreover, the episode comes in what appears to be an appendix, with its own conclusion (21.25) separate from that of the main Gospel (20.30f.). One motive for its addition may have been to explain the death of the ‘beloved disciple’ when some were expecting him to survive until Jesus’ second coming. Compare Jesus’ words to Peter: ‘If I wish him to remain until I come, what is that to you?’ (21.22); hence the Evangelist’s explanation that a rumour had started that the ‘beloved disciple’ would not die, but Jesus had never said this (cf. Brown, 1966, pp. 1118f.). The ‘beloved disciple’ should therefore be regarded as John’s ‘ideal’ author, rather than the actual author.2
However, many scholars believe that the ‘beloved disciple’ is not a real person at all, but a literary device (so Lincoln, 2005, p. 23; Thyen, 2005, p. 2). It is indeed odd that one individual should be singled out as the disciple whom Jesus loved. Could the ‘beloved disciple’ symbolize a group, perhaps even all authentic disciples? Bultmann (1971, pp. 484f.) argued that the ‘beloved disciple’ stands for ‘Gentile Christendom’ – seen as authentic Christianity – over against ‘Jewish Christendom’, represented by Peter (and also Jesus’ mother). Other scholars have been quick to point out the awkwardness of having a purely symbolic figure interacting with real people. A compromise is to see the ‘beloved disciple’ as a historical disciple who knew Jesus, idealized as especially loved, and as a model disciple and totally reliable witness (see further Thatcher, 2001).
Possible identifications
If the ‘beloved disciple’ was a real person, however idealized, it is legitimate to ask whether he can reasonably be identified with any known figure from early Christianity. Here conjectures become rife: John Mark, Matthias, the apostle Paul, Apollos, Philip, the rich young man of the Synoptics, Lazarus, Thomas, Judas (not Iscariot), John the son of Zebedee, John ‘the Elder’ and more recently Nathanael have all been proposed (discussion in Charlesworth, 1995; also Lincoln, 2005, pp. 19−21). Evidential foundation is lacking for the first six of these, which need not detain us further. Sanders and Mastin (1968, esp. p. 31) argued for Lazarus: he is the only named male individual described elsewhere as loved by Jesus (11.3, 5), and coming from Bethany he could be a possible source for John’s unique materials centring on Jerusalem. But once this has been said, there is nothing substantial to add (we can dismiss the pious conjecture that he might have composed the Gospel in gratitude at being raised from the dead). The case for Judas (not Iscariot), mentioned once by name (14.22), has been put by Gunther. He claims that this figure is Jesus’ brother of the same name (cf. Mark 6.3; Matt. 13.55), arguing that the reason why the ‘beloved disciple’ is not mentioned until the Passion Narrative is that Jesus’ brother was late in joining the Twelve (1981, p. 127). His proposal falls on three counts: first, John nowhere indicates that this Judas is a relative of Jesus; second, it is unlikely that the Synoptics understood this Judas as Jesus’ brother;3 third, nothing in John specifically links this Judas with the ‘beloved disciple’.
Charlesworth himself favours the apostle Thomas (1995, esp. chs 4, 7, 10). He argues that Thomas is named as one of the seven fishermen to whom Jesus showed himself (21.2), one of whom must have been the ‘beloved disciple’ (at least for the author of John 21). In 20.27, the risen Jesus invites him to place his finger in the nail-wounds and his hand in Jesus’ side; this is because Thomas has said he will not believe unless he does this (20.25). But how, Charlesworth asks, did Thomas know about the spear-wound unless he was the (beloved) disciple who witnessed it? In 11.16 Thomas is willing to die for Jesus. For Charlesworth he is a perfect candidate for the ‘beloved disciple’, being a witness of both Jesus’ death and Resurrection, and a model of discipleship, moving from scepticism to full faith in his great confession, ‘My Lord and my God’ (20.28).
These arguments rest upon a reading of the text that cannot bear close scrutiny. Charlesworth claims that Thomas is never represented as meeting the ‘beloved disciple’, who left at 20.10, so he cannot know about the spear-wound unless he is the ‘beloved disciple’ (1995, p. 423). But this is absurd. In 20.25 the other disciples tell Thomas about Jesus’ appearance to them, an appearance at which he showed them his hands and his side (20.20). Readers can surely imagine for themselves that Thomas heard about Jesus’ wounds as well as the fact of his appearance. Nor does Thomas’ scepticism in 20.25 fit well with the statement that the ‘beloved disciple’ ‘saw and believed’ in 20.8. Charlesworth makes much of apocryphal traditions concerning Thomas as Jesus’ twin, but in none of these is there any hint that he was ever identified with the ‘beloved disciple’ or connected with the authorship of John. In short, readers of the Gospel cannot reasonably be expected to identify the ‘beloved disciple’ with Lazarus, Judas or Thomas.
John the son of Zebedee (and John the ‘Elder’)
There is, however, one New Testament figure regularly associated with authorship in patristic sources – John, the son of Zebedee, disciple and apostle. How reliable is this tradition? First the external testimonies will be considered, and then the internal evidence. Theophilus of Antioch quotes the opening words of the Prologue, describing it as the work of John, one of the ‘spirit-bearing men’ (Autol., 2.22). According to Eusebius (c.260–c.340), Irenaeus specifically identifies its author as ‘John, the disciple of the Lord, who also rested on his breast’, adding that he published the Gospel while staying at Ephesus in Asia (Hist. eccl., V.8.4; cf. III.23.1). Eusebius also attests that Polycrates (second century CE), bishop of Ephesus, described John as a priest, wearing the petalon,4 martyr and teacher, who slept (i.e. was buried) at Ephesus (Hist. eccl., III.31.3; V.24.3f.). The Gnostic writers Ptolemaeus and Heracleon also attributed this Gospel, or at least the Prologue, to a disciple whom Ptolemaeus names as ‘John’ (Culpepper, 1994, pp. 114–19). Similar views are attested in the anti-Marcionite Prologue, and the Muratorian Canon (probably second century). The traditional Gospel title ‘According to John’ may go back to this period (Hengel, 1989, pp. 74f.).
None of the above writers specifically names this ‘John’ as the son of Zebedee, though it is probable that he was intended. The situation is complicated by apparent references to another John, an elder (presbyteros), in a testimony attributed to Papias (c.60–130 CE) by Eusebius (Hist. eccl., III.39.4). This twice refers to a disciple of the Lord named John, once in the company of Andrew, Peter and other apostles, and once as an ‘elder’ or ‘presbyter’, along with an otherwise unknown figure named Aristion. Some scholars have conjectured that John and 1–3 John were written by this second John, an idea receiving some support from the opening words of both 2 and 3 John ascribing authorship to an unnamed presbyteros.5 But the passage is confused, and possibly textually corrupt; many doubt even the existence of ‘John the Elder’. In any case it does not mention the authorship of any writing, nor does it link either ‘John’ with Ephesus (Culpepper, 1994, pp. 109–12). It therefore seems likely that when the early Fathers refer to ‘John’ they mean the well-known apostle, the son of Zebedee.6
There were, however, variant views. Those whom Epiphanius (Pan. 51.3.1–6) calls the Alogoi7 attributed John’s Gospel to Cerinthus, the apostle’s traditional opponent (Eusebius, Hist. eccl., IV.14.6).8 The presbyter Gaius also denied apostolic authorship, pointing out numerous differences between John and the Synoptics (Dialogue with Proclus; Culpepper, 1994, p. 121). He may have been partly motivated by his opposition to the Montanists, who made much of John, claiming direct inspiration from his Paraclete. The defence of apostolic authorship by Hippolytus of Rome (c.204–5), and Irenaeus’ insistence that John was written by a disciple intimate with Jesus, may have been in response to the scepticism of the Alogoi and Gaius (Gunther, 1980, pp. 414f.). Despite these doubts, by the time of Eusebius, in the later third century, the belief was firmly established that John was written by an eyewitness, John the apostle, who was thought to have written Revelation and 1 John, the authorship of 2 and 3 John still being disputed. By around this time the apostle John was believed to have left Jerusalem in the company of Jesus’ mother. After a period of exile on Patmos (where he wrote Revelation), he was thought to have gone to Ephesus, where he wrote the Gospel and the first Johannine Epistle. He is said to have died there at a ripe old age in the reign of Trajan (98–117 CE).
In the light of this patristic witness some conservative scholars still affirm the apostle John as this Gospel’s author (e.g. Morris, 1972, p. 30).9 More commonly they defend the idea that he was the fountainhead of a tradition culminating in the Gospel (Carson, 1991), a view advocated also by Brown (1966) and Schnackenburg (1968) in their commentaries, though both later changed their minds. However, the majority of recent scholars reject even this possibility, for a variety of reasons. First, the traditions are not so clear-cut as our summary might suggest. (a) The New Testament itself is silent about any connection between the apostle John and Asia Minor, though there are places where such a link might have been mentioned. (b) There is a curious absence of any reference to his presence at Ephesus in several early Fathers who might have been expected to allude to it. These include Papias, bishop of Hierapolis in Asia Minor, Polycarp, bishop of Smyrna in the same area, and Ignatius, bishop of Antioch, who wrote letters to the Ephesians and other Asian churches. (c) The idea that John lived into the reign of Trajan implies a very long life; but there is a variant tradition that John died young, being martyred with his brother James (Barrett, 1978, pp. 103f., citing various authorities including Papias).10
Second, the ancient views of the author as the apostle John seem to depend on the identification of the ‘beloved disciple’ with the son of Zebedee. But how well-based is this? Those who support this identification argue that the ‘beloved disciple’ was present at the Last Supper (13.23) and must therefore be one of the Twelve. The description of him there as reclining in Jesus’ bosom implies an intimate relationship, suggesting one of Jesus’ close associates, i.e. Peter, James or John. He clearly is not Peter, since Peter runs alongside the ‘beloved disciple’ in 20.1–10; he cannot be James, who was martyred early (Acts 12.2). The ‘beloved disciple’ is one of the seven fishermen to whom Jesus appears in 21.2, who include the two (unnamed) ‘sons of Zebedee’. The apostle John is never named in this Gospel, but Peter and John are associated together (13.23f.; 20.2; 21.20; possibly 18.15); they also occur as a pair in Acts (1.13; 3.1–11; 4.13–19; 8.14). It would all make sense if the ‘beloved disciple’ were John, the son of Zebedee.
Against this four arguments have been adduced. (i) There is no reason to assume that the ‘beloved disciple’ must be one of the Twelve. This group features rarely in John, and its author never states that only the Twelve were present at the Last Supper. The identification assumes that John tells exactly the same story as the Synoptics; in fact, as has already been seen, he shows considerable independence, not least in his handling of the disciples. (ii) John lacks all the special events witnessed by the Synoptic ‘inner circle’ – the raising of Jairus’ daughter, the Transfiguration, and the agony in the garden; this is odd if it rests on the testimony of the apostle John. Once again the Gospels are being harmonized in an unscholarly way. (iii) If the ‘beloved disciple’ is one of the seven fishermen to whom the risen Jesus appears, he could be one of the two unnamed disciples. Some scholars also argue (iv) that John, the son of Zebedee, was an uneducated fisherman (Acts 4.13), incapable of writing this highly sophisticated Gospel with its use of philosophical ideas. Not all these arguments carry equal weight. To take the last point first, if the apostle John led a long life, becoming a leader of the Church and mixing with educated people, he could have acquired sufficient knowledge of Hellenistic ideas to write this Gospel.11 (In any case its ‘Hellenistic’ character has been exaggerated.) The Evangelist might have had reasons for omitting the special events witnessed by the ‘inner circle’: he had no need to relate the Transfiguration since Jesus’ divine glory shines throughout his Gospel; he has his own equivalent of Jesus’ agony (12.27–36). The strongest points are probably (i) and (iii).
The chief ground for rejecting the identification of John the apostle with the ‘beloved disciple’ (and hence with the implied author) is that there is no positive evidence in the text. Nothing in John 21 compels readers to understand the ‘beloved disciple’ as one of the ‘sons of Zebedee’. Why, if 21.2 reveals the ‘beloved disciple’s’ identity, should it be hidden again in 21.7? The author of John may have wished to remain anonymous (Marsh, 1968, p. 77; Michaels, 2010, p. 24). One can only speculate why: fear of persecution, though sometimes mentioned, is unlikely (the popular picture of early Christians as constantly under threat of persecution has been exaggerated). Possibly he felt no need to indicate his identity. Many Jewish and early Christian texts were originally anonymous (e.g. 1 John, Hebrews), the question of authorship arising only when their authority either became questioned or needed to be invoked.
Two puzzles remain: first, how did this Gospel become attributed to the apostle John? Possibly the attribution arose because John, 1 John and Revelation were already associated together by the second century and linked with Asia Minor, especially Ephesus (where more than one tomb purporting to be the apostle’s was shown). Revelation claims to be by ‘John’ (1.1, 4, 9; 22.8); in the course of Montanist controversies, this John (probably originally an Asian prophet) was identified as the apostle, the son of Zebedee. In due course all the Johannine writings became ascribed to him.12 Second, why does John mention the ‘beloved disciple’ at all? It is most improbable that anyone would give himself this title. One possibility is that he was included originally as a role model for readers, and that a later editor identified him with the Gospel’s author, using his ‘testimony’ to encourage trust in the narrative (cf. 21.24).13 This does not exclude the possibility that the ‘beloved disciple’ may still be based on a real person. The fact that he is not named is no problem. Early Jewish texts quite often refer obliquely to historical personages under enigmatic sobriquets, recognizable to insiders but obscure to those outside.14 In the New Testament one might mention ‘the Elder’ of 2 and 3 John, ‘the beast’ of Revelation 13.11–18 (virtually certainly Nero) and ‘the Elect Lady’ (2 John 1) – if indeed this refers to a real woman. Such anonymous figures, though based on real people, may also have a representative role.
Among scholars a popular hypothesis is that behind the figure of the ‘beloved disciple’ lies a well-loved leader of a Johannine community who had recently died (cf. above, p. 25). He did not designate himself ‘the disciple whom Jesus loved’, but his followers did so. Those who support such a view often argue that this anonymous leader was in some way opposed to the Petrine or ‘apostolic’ church (cf. his alleged rivalry with Peter). They believe that the dialogue in 21.9–19 was added to the main Gospel to rehabilitate Peter (whose earlier denials had been reported in detail), and to resolve the tensions between these two figures (cf. Quast, 1989). Bauckham is unusual in taking John 21 as an integral part of the Gospel, and in seeing the ‘beloved disciple’ as a personal disciple of Jesus and eyewitness (1993b, esp. pp. 27, 31f.; 2006, esp. chs 14–15).
A female ‘beloved disciple’ and a woman author?
Schneiders (1999, pp. 213–32) suggested that the ‘beloved disciple’ might be understood as a woman. She claims that in the scene at the cross when Jesus addresses his mother and the disciple whom he loved (19.26f.), the natural reading of the text is that the ‘beloved disciple’ is one of the named women with Jesus’ mother, either Mary (wife) of Klopas or Mary Magdalene. The evident choice, she says, is Mary Magdalene (1999, p. 221). This idea can be shown to be highly improbable on several grounds. (a) In ancient Jewish society, women were put in the care of men, not other women. (b) Greek grammar precludes the interpretation of the ‘beloved disciple’ as a woman.15 If an individual woman disciple had been intended, the form mathētria could have been used (cf. Acts 9.36, of Dorcas), with the corresponding feminine article, adjectives, etc. (c) The idea of a female disciple lying on Jesus’ breast at the Last Supper (which would follow if the ‘beloved disciple’ were a woman) is culturally inappropriate.16 For all these reasons any identification of the ‘beloved disciple’ with Mary Magdalene must be rejected.
Schneiders further argues that if there were an eyewitness source this would correspond to Mary Magdalene, but she does not attribute authorship directly to her. In a complex, opaquely argued hypothesis, she sees the ‘beloved disciple’ as ‘a kind of textual paradigm who concretely embodies the corporate authority of the Johannine school’, being based on a whole series of disciples with whom the author is in sympathy. These include the Samaritan woman, whom she describes as ‘the evangelist’s textual alter ego’, i.e. ‘second self’ (1999, pp. 229f.). She also hints strongly at the possibility of a female author, referring to John’s sympathetic portrayals of women and their prominent roles:
What man [italics mine] would have had so at heart the highlighting of women’s roles in the community as to have assigned to women the apostolically significant roles and scenes assigned to the Twelve in the Synoptics, be so finely attuned to women’s psychological and spiritual experience as to be able to create such scenes as the Samaritan woman and Mary Magdalene episodes, and be so concerned to defend women’s autonomous relationship with Jesus as to have written these passages?
(1999, p. 216)
Other scholars, too, use John’s sensitive portrayals of women to support the possibility of a female author, including Scott (1992), who also makes much of John’s ‘sophia’ Christology,17 and Fiorenza (1983). Scott argues that John’s ‘openness’ to women reflects their leadership roles, and asks, ‘Could it not also reflect something even more radical, namely that the Fourth Gospel was written by a woman?’ (1992, pp. 239f.). Fiorenza regularly refers to the author of John as ‘s/he’ and finds it astonishing that John should give such prominence to women. However, it is a fallacy that only women authors can depict women in leading roles or portray female characters sensitively (cf. Kraemer, 1991; Lefkowitz, 1991). The search for ‘lost’ women authors is a deliberate strategy for feminist scholars (cf. Fiorenza, 1992, pp. 28f.), and is in itself praiseworthy (as is the search for forgotten female artists, musicians, theologians, and the like); but the desire to give women their just due must not cloud academic judgement. Women authors were extremely rare in the ancient world.18 If John had been written by a woman, this would have been such an unusual event that it would surely have left some mark on the tradition. The idea of a female author for John is about as likely as Samuel Butler’s romantic conjecture that a woman composed Homer’s Odyssey because of its sympathetic treatment of women.
Conclusions
The ‘beloved disciple’ cannot be convincingly identified with any specific individual from early Christianity. Probably based on a real person, whose identity may have been known to at least some of John’s readers, he is deliberately left anonymous. He is not the Gospel’s author, but the person whom the author (or at least whoever wrote John 21) wants readers to see as a reliable authority lying behind the Gospel. There is no reason to suppose that the actual author was female, or that John intended the ‘beloved disciple’ to be understood as a woman. If these conclusions seem disappointing, it must be stressed that a book’s value does not depend on knowing who wrote it, but on its intrinsic worth. It will also be apparent that ‘authorship’ of an ancient text like John is not a straightforward question: the author may have incorporated old oral traditions, including the ‘beloved disciple’s’ memories (if he was a historical person), or he may have had access to written sources. There were probably additions to the original Gospel, the most obvious being John 21 (though others have also been postulated). There is a distinct possibility that the Gospel went through more than one edition: this would account for some of the ‘aporias’ or inconsistencies that have been detected, and some of the tensions in its theology.19 These possibilities and others will be the theme of our next two chapters, which concentrate on the composition and character of John’s text, including its historical value.