16bSO THE SOLDIERS took charge of Jesus. 17Carrying his own cross, he went out to the place of the Skull (which in Aramaic is called Golgotha). 18Here they crucified him, and with him two others—one on each side and Jesus in the middle.
19Pilate had a notice prepared and fastened to the cross. It read: JESUS OF NAZARETH, THE KING OF THE JEWS. 20Many of the Jews read this sign, for the place where Jesus was crucified was near the city, and the sign was written in Aramaic, Latin and Greek. 21The chief priests of the Jews protested to Pilate, “Do not write ‘The King of the Jews,’ but that this man claimed to be king of the Jews.”
22Pilate answered, “What I have written, I have written.”
23When the soldiers crucified Jesus, they took his clothes, dividing them into four shares, one for each of them, with the undergarment remaining. This garment was seamless, woven in one piece from top to bottom.
24“Let’s not tear it,” they said to one another. “Let’s decide by lot who will get it.”
This happened that the scripture might be fulfilled which said,
“They divided my garments among them
and cast lots for my clothing.”
So this is what the soldiers did.
25Near the cross of Jesus stood his mother, his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. 26When Jesus saw his mother there, and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to his mother, “Dear woman, here is your son,” 27and to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” From that time on, this disciple took her into his home.
28Later, knowing that all was now completed, and so that the Scripture would be fulfilled, Jesus said, “I am thirsty.” 29A jar of wine vinegar was there, so they soaked a sponge in it, put the sponge on a stalk of the hyssop plant, and lifted it to Jesus’ lips. 30When he had received the drink, Jesus said, “It is finished.” With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.
31Now it was the day of Preparation, and the next day was to be a special Sabbath. Because the Jews did not want the bodies left on the crosses during the Sabbath, they asked Pilate to have the legs broken and the bodies taken down. 32The soldiers therefore came and broke the legs of the first man who had been crucified with Jesus, and then those of the other. 33But when they came to Jesus and found that he was already dead, they did not break his legs. 34Instead, one of the soldiers pierced Jesus’ side with a spear, bringing a sudden flow of blood and water. 35The man who saw it has given testimony, and his testimony is true. He knows that he tells the truth, and he testifies so that you also may believe. 36These things happened so that the scripture would be fulfilled: “Not one of his bones will be broken,” 37and, as another scripture says, “They will look on the one they have pierced.”
38Later, Joseph of Arimathea asked Pilate for the body of Jesus. Now Joseph was a disciple of Jesus, but secretly because he feared the Jews. With Pilate’s permission, he came and took the body away. 39He was accompanied by Nicodemus, the man who earlier had visited Jesus at night. Nicodemus brought a mixture of myrrh and aloes, about seventy-five pounds. 40Taking Jesus’ body, the two of them wrapped it, with the spices, in strips of linen. This was in accordance with Jewish burial customs. 41At the place where Jesus was crucified, there was a garden, and in the garden a new tomb, in which no one had ever been laid. 42Because it was the Jewish day of Preparation and since the tomb was nearby, they laid Jesus there.
Original Meaning
THIS SECTION OF the Passion story is intimately connected to what has just transpired. Thus our preliminary comments on the nature of John’s treatment of Jesus’ trial and death (see comments on 18:1) may be applied to these verses. Jesus has been arrested in an olive orchard (or garden) in a valley east of Jerusalem, interrogated by the leadership of the Jewish high council (the Sanhedrin), and handed over to the Roman governor (Pilate), and he now has been readied for crucifixion (19:16a). Pilate’s presence will still be felt as the story continues (19:19, 38) and many of the themes we observed in 18:1–19:16a will continue in John’s record. Despite the apparent tragedy of the scene, Jesus is Israel’s king, and Pilate will reinforce this in the strongest terms possible. Jesus’ cross does not announce that he claimed to be king, but Pilate writes, “JESUS OF NAZARETH, THE KING OF THE JEWS.” It is a statement, an announcement, a challenge to the Sanhedrin leaders who want him to change it.
But John sees in Jesus’ death more than the ironic drama of Christ’s glory and return. He develops the story aware that these events have a theological significance as well. Jesus’ death on the cross is not only about the return of the king (to heaven), but also about Jesus’ care for his flock, his sacrifice, and the Spirit—all motifs discussed in the Upper Room as Jesus prepared his followers for the crisis of that afternoon. Thus John delights in seeing the symbolic meaning hidden in commonplace events. This will be true for the crucifixion and its attendant details (the title above the cross, Jesus’ garments, Jesus’ last words) as well as for other related scenes such as Jesus’ mother, the breaking of legs, and the spear thrust.
Jesus Is Led to Golgotha (19:16b–24)
WHEN JESUS IS led away from the Praetorium, he has been fully “prepared” for crucifixion (see comments on 19:16a). He is bleeding profusely and nearly in shock. Nevertheless it was the tradition that under Roman guard, the victim had to bear his own cross to the site of death, so this is what Jesus does (19:17). John says that “they” take Jesus out; despite the ambiguity, we can safely assume that these are Roman soldiers (cf. a similar phrase in 19:1).
The vertical beam of the cross (Lat. staticulum) was generally kept at the site and the victim was forced to carry the crossbeam (Lat. patibulum).1 The beam was placed over the neck, like a yoke, while the person’s arms were pulled back and hooked around it. Ancient writers knew this practice well, and we should assume that John’s readers would understand as well. But even this is too heavy for Jesus, and the Synoptic Gospels tell us that the soldiers must remove the beam and give it to a bystander named Simon, from North African Cyrene (Mark 15:21; Luke 23:26).
According to a later tradition recorded in the Talmud, women of Jerusalem’s nobility would offer the condemned a narcotic wine in order to numb the senses (b. Sanh. 43a). In Luke we read that Jesus turns and addresses them (Luke 23:28–31). John offers none of these details and keeps the story to a bare minimum. The route of Jesus’ walk (traditionally Jerusalem’s Via Dolorosa) would have taken him from the Praetorium of Pilate to a location outside the city walls, where people passing by would see the spectacle and some would even speak to Jesus or jeer (Matt. 27:39; Mark 15:29).2 John skips any notation of the route and simply notes that the place of crucifixion is called “the place of the Skull” or (in Aramaic) “Golgotha.”3 Public executions “outside the walls” were designed to shock and warn the populace, but no doubt John sees another meaning here: Jesus is being lifted up so that now, on the highways of Jerusalem, Israel can see its king.
The practice of crucifixion is somewhat debated. We know that thousands of slaves and criminals were crucified, but we have no complete description of the process, and only one crucified skeleton has been found, as recently as 1968 in a burial cave in Giv’at ha-Mivtar, Jerusalem.4 But literary references make clear that this was a death reserved for lower classes, slaves, foreigners, and criminals. The victim was laid on the ground with his arms stretched across the beam. After he was either nailed or tied, he was hoisted up and mounted on the vertical post.
Various postures on the cross were possible but the least likely appears in Christian art (with the nails inserted on top of the foot).5 Romans nailed the ankles together, forcing the feet to lay sideways on top of one another. They also kept a peg on the vertical post (the sedile) for the person to sit on and hence not tear away. The key is to remember that nailing was not the means of death on the cross. Many factors, such as hemorrhaging, asphyxia, and shock, played a role. It is easy to see why Josephus (who watched many crucifixions during Titus’s conquest of Jerusalem) referred to this as “the most wretched of deaths” (Wars, 7.6.4).
Each of the Gospels say that Jesus was crucified with “two others,” and both Mark and Matthew refer to these men on either side of Jesus as “bandits” (Gk. lestes)—the same word used for Barabbas in John (see comments on 18:40). This word is best translated “terrorist” and increases the irony of Jesus’ wrongful execution. Jesus is being aligned with terrorists while another terrorist has gone free (19:18). Each of the Gospels also refer to Jesus’ position between them. This may refer to a place of prominence or it may echo Psalm 22:16 (“Dogs have surrounded me; a band of evil men has encircled me, they have pierced my hands and my feet”). Isaiah’s Suffering Servant is likewise described as dying among “the transgressors” (Isa. 53:12).
John’s story concentrates on the important details given in 19:19–22. It was customary for the Romans to provide a public, written notice of the criminal’s name and activity, and this was paraded before him (or hung around his neck) en route to his crucifixion. John alone employs the technically correct term for this “title” (Gk. titlos; Lat. titulus). He is also the only writer who notes that it came by Pilate’s order, and it may equally be true that this is “Pilate’s revenge” on the Jewish high council.6 When they arrive at Golgotha, the sign is affixed to the cross “over Jesus” (so Matt 27:37; Luke 23:38): JESUS OF NAZARETH, KING OF THE JEWS.
It is the language of the titulus that is important. It is written in Aramaic, Latin, and Greek. Jewish tombs often had multiple languages, and the cemetery at Bet Shearim in Galilee shows numerous examples of the presence of Hellenistic culture into this world. Romans would understand the Latin; the Jewish population would read the Aramaic; and Greek was the universal language of the Mediterranean world. Pilate has, in effect, placed on public display an announcement for the world. Jesus’ kingship is now available for the entire world to see.
It comes as no surprise that the chief priests are furious and insulted (19:20–21). They understand that the sign implies a kind of sarcastic endorsement by Rome of Jesus’ royal identity, and they do not like it. “This man said, ‘I am King of the Jews’ ” (NRSV) is their biting alternative, but Pilate for the first time in the story stands up to them. He refuses to publish a lie (even though he did not have the courage to act on the truth). Thus the scene ends and Jesus’ kingship stands secure.
It was common for Roman guards during a crucifixion to demand the right to the prisoner’s clothing.7 While the Synoptics are brief, John provides more detail (19:23–24). They take Jesus’ “clothes”8 and divide it into four parts; this no doubt gives us a clue that there are four guards overseeing the crucifixion. These four “parts” have led to speculation as to what Jesus possessed. No doubt they include a head covering, a belt, possibly sandals, an outer cloak (13:4), and an “undergarment” or tunic. This last item draws special attention because of its value and the soldiers’ interest that it not be torn in parts because it is “seamless.” Such a garment was not necessarily unusual or a luxury item, and many peasants could have them. It was worn as a long, thin gown lining the outer cloak.
The soldiers gamble for the undergarment, which John sees as a fulfillment of Psalm 22:18 (cited in John 19:24). It is no accident that John tells us about Jesus’ seamless tunic since it becomes the focus of the entire scene. But the interpreter must be cautious here. John’s tendency to enjoy double meanings sometimes leads us to look for them in texts where none is intended, and the seamless tunic of Jesus is a case in point. Josephus describes the high priests’ tunic as “seamless” in these words: “Now this garment was not composed of two pieces, nor was it sewn together upon the shoulders and the sides, but it was one long vestment so woven as to have an opening for the neck” (Ant. 3.7.4 [159–61]). Josephus’s description seems to refer to a long outer robe decorated with gold thread and fringes. It is difficult to know if this is what John has in mind; if so, this may be an allusion to Jesus’ priestly work on the cross (a common New Testament theme).
Other scholars recall Jesus’ removal of clothing in chapter 13 in order to serve his disciples—a service interpreted in light of “the hour” and the cross. Still other (particularly patristic) interpreters think of the “seamless” unity of the church, but this view seems problematic since the garment is taken away from Jesus. A more commonplace view, that this was simply a precious item of clothing (made perhaps by his mother?) may be the best way forward. The reason for seamless tunics was for Jews to be assured that no two fabrics were mixed, a practice prohibited under the law (Deut. 22:11). The tunic presents us with a problem that we will examine further in the Bridging Contexts section. We must be cautious lest we read more into John’s story than he intended.
Jesus’ Final Deeds and Death (19:25–30)
IT WAS NOT uncommon for a crucified person to make a pronouncement or to distribute his estate from the cross. Josephus records meeting many of his friends on crosses surrounding Jerusalem while the city was under Titus’s siege in A.D. 70. Each of the Gospels records important words of Jesus from the cross, which have gone down in Christian tradition as some of the most sacred, treasured utterances in the Bible.
John records a number of people at the foot of the cross.9 These include (1) his mother; (2) his aunt [his mother’s sister]; (3) Mary “[wife] of Clopas;” (4) Mary [from the village of] Magdala; and (5) the Beloved Disciple. We know nothing about “Mary of Clopas,” but Mary of Magdala was from a village just north of Tiberius (on the west side of the Sea of Galilee). Mark and Luke tell us that she had been freed from a number of demons thanks to Jesus’ ministry (Mark 16:9; Luke 8:2). John’s reference to Jesus’ “aunt” is most intriguing. In an impressive study, Brown has analyzed the names of each person at the cross in all four Gospels, showing not only the consistent report of who was there but identifying many of them.10 The most important feature of the study is his compelling argument that “Jesus’ mother’s sister” is the same as Matthew’s “the mother of the sons of Zebedee” (Matt. 27:56). John and Matthew say that these women are both at the cross and they may well be the same person, thus making Jesus and the sons of Zebedee cousins.
If this is true (and I believe it is likely), it explains why the mother of these young men could expect special favors from Jesus (Matt. 20:20; Mark 10:35). It also helps explain why in the present verses (John 19:26–27) Jesus speaks when he sees his mother and the Beloved Disciple standing before him. Jesus now is appealing to a family responsibility that will be a feature of John’s own discipleship. His form of address (“Woman!”) is respectful (not impolite, see comment on 2:4), and he is pointing Mary to John (the Beloved Disciple), placing her under the protective care of this disciple.
All of this makes sense when we think that Jesus’ brothers have abandoned him (7:5), and the absence of Joseph in the story makes us suspect that Mary is alone. She has supported Jesus all along, and now with his death, a woman in her culture would be bereft and at risk. The Beloved Disciple is being called now to take Mary into his family, and he does this obediently (19:27b). This should not surprise us. In Jesus’ culture extended families were extremely important and cousin relationships highly treasured. For Jesus to be linked to his extended family would be commonplace.
Jesus’ second statement on the cross is a cry of thirst (19:28), which John alone records. Just as the loss of his clothing was a fulfillment of Scripture, John notes that this cry too fulfills Scripture. Jesus is fully aware that the work he has been sent to the world to do is finished. He had revealed the Father’s name, gathered those given to him, and exhibited God’s love and revealed his word. All is finished. But he also knows that these things are a fulfillment of God’s plan; the cross is a portion of the work God has sent him to do. His cry of thirst is not a desperate word from a dying man under a Middle Eastern sun. Jesus speaks in order to fulfill Scripture. “I thirst” recalls Psalm 69:21, “They put gall in my food and gave me vinegar for my thirst” (cf. John 2:17; 15:25, which also quote Ps. 69).
In response, the soldiers provide him with a sponge soaked in vinegar (19:29). This drink (Gk. oxos) was a diluted wine drunk by soldiers and peasants. We must not confuse this drink with the offer of wine mixed with drugs extended to him earlier as he walked to Golgotha (Mark 15:23). Jesus refused this earlier narcotic. Now the soldiers put the sponge on a branch of hyssop (a small shrub) and offer it to Jesus. This is possible because the cross was not elevated in the air, but low, no higher than the height of one of the soldiers. The flexible branches of the shrub would barely work for this effort, but a center stalk would.
Mark and Matthew say that the sponge was placed on a stiff branch or stick (Gk. kalamos). The detail of hyssop is important here since the plant was used at the Passover to brush lamb’s blood on the lintels and door posts of Israelite homes (Ex. 12:22). Is this a direct allusion linking Jesus with Passover, which implies that he is a Passover sacrifice? Since John will continue to allude to the Passover (19:31–37), we need to keep this possibility open.
Mark says that Jesus utters a loud cry just before expiring but he does not tell us what it is (15:37). It is tempting to compare this with John 19:30, “When he had received the drink, Jesus said, “It is finished.” What Jesus knows about the finality of his work (19:28) he now utters aloud (19:30a). This confirms the sense we have seen throughout the Passion story that here Jesus is accomplishing what he intends. He is not a victim, but a servant doing God’s bidding. This is not a cry of desolation (“At last it is over!”) but an announcement of triumph (“It is accomplished”).
At this moment John says that Jesus bows his head and “handed over the spirit” (NIV “gave up his spirit”). The word “spirit” (pneuma) may be anthropomorphic (as in 11:33; 13:21), so that Jesus is here giving up his life. This would then compare with Matthew 27:50 (“he gave up his spirit”) and Luke 23:46 (“Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.”). This language is customary in Greek to describe death.
But John uses an unusual verb here, which does not mean “give up.” The Greek paradidomi means to “hand over,” and nowhere in Greek literature is paradidomi to pneuma used as a reference to death.11 Note that John does not refer to a recipient for his spirit, such as the Father (as in Luke). This verb means to hand on something to a successor.12 The expression may well be John’s characteristic double meaning at work, giving the subtle, general impression that the gift of the Spirit (a part of Jesus’ promised work) is active at the time of the cross. This coheres with what we learned earlier that the Spirit is linked to “the hour” (7:39; 16:7); indeed it is a fruit of Jesus’ death. Thus he bows his head, looking directly at those most loved, those ideal disciples at the foot of the cross—and we recognize them as the recipients of his gift. “The Spirit is not actually given (see 20:22), but in a symbolic, proleptic fashion—at the shifting of the eras when the moment of sacrifice comes—the movement of God toward humanity is the Spirit.”13
If it is true that the Spirit is somehow “loosed” at the time of Jesus’ death, this symbolism may equally be at work in 19:28 in the images of water and thirst that run through these verses.14 A cry of thirst is remarkable from the one in whom rivers of living water run (7:37). Jesus had said, “Whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst” (4:14). The source of living water now thirsts! Elsewhere when John uses the language of “thirst” it refers to his work as one who can satisfy all thirst (4:13–15; 6:35; 7:37). As his life escapes, as the Spirit is released (19:30), as this living water is poured out (19:34), Jesus is keenly aware of this emptying, which is felt sharply in his thirst. This imagery will return shortly in 19:34.
The final scene points us once more toward the setting of Passover (19:31–37). John reminds us that it is the “day of Preparation” (19:31), which most naturally refers to Sabbath preparation, not preparation for the Passover (see comments on 13:1; 18:28). The balance of the verse makes this clear in that the Jews, whose concern has been purity all along (11:55; 18:28), now wish to remove the bodies from the crosses because of the onset of dusk and the beginning of the Sabbath. Deuteronomy 21:22–23 gives helpful background, “If a man guilty of a capital offense is put to death and his body is hung on a tree, you must not leave his body on the tree overnight. Be sure to bury him that same day.”15 Thus we can assume that the same group of Jews who asked for a change to the title on the cross (19:21) now make a second request. In the interest of spiritual devotion to the law, they wish to remove the three men from their crosses.
The Roman practice was to leave crucified bodies on crosses for a long time as a public display of discipline. Some people would last for days on a cross. Outside the city walls, such victims were often attacked by wild animals and carrion, such as vultures. But in order to hasten death, the soldiers would strike the legs with a heavy hammer, accelerating asphyxiation and promoting profuse bleeding as the bones tore through the skin due to body weight. The one crucifixion skeleton discovered in 1968 shows evidence of this: It is a male whose right tibia was completely crushed; his left calf bones (tibia and fibula) were fractured, clear evidence of the Roman mallet.16 Were the Jewish leaders interested in this practice not only to speed these three deaths but also to further mutilate Jesus and deepen his shame?
But such was not to be. The squad of soldiers break the legs of the two men next to Jesus (19:32), but when they come to Jesus—and here John makes the point with absolute clarity—they do not break his legs since he is already dead (19:33). If they are confident of this, however, it seems odd that one of them takes a lance to test him further. But one does, and when Jesus’ side is pierced, blood and water flow from the wound.
Exegetes and physicians have explored this phenomenon of blood and water at length, and we can only provide the barest summary of their work. Few today hold the view that Jesus’ heart “bursts,” despite the homiletic possibilities this offers.17 Two solid theories are available. (1) P. Barbet once argued that the spear may have penetrated Jesus’ heart, so that the blood from his heart as well as fluid from the pericardial sac were released simultaneously.18 Today many physician-interpreters favor this view. (2) The surgeon A. F. Sava objected to this theory since Barbet took his evidence from cadavers twenty-four hours old. His own experiments with four-to six-hour cadavers did not produce the same results. However, among victims of traumatic accidents (especially with chest injuries), massive fluids build up between the body lining and the lung, in some instances providing as much as two liters of fluid. When this is tested on cadavers two to four hours after death, the bloody serum separates into a layer of deep red with a layer of pale straw-colored liquid above it. Therefore, Sava argues that it is the flogging of Jesus that produces a large accumulation in Jesus’ torso, and this is then pierced.19
No doubt this medical debate will continue. But we can be sure that John’s primary intention is to let his readers know that Jesus is most certainly dead. Theologically this is important for a couple of reasons. John is working to affirm the full humanity of Jesus, whose life was dependent on his flesh (1:14). Moreover, already in John’s time false teachers were doubting the true incarnation of Christ (1 John 4:1–6), and it is likely that in 1 John 5:6–9, he may even be alluding to this event.
But just as with the many other events on this day, John no doubt sees symbolism that goes beyond the surface meaning of piercing. Most evangelicals are reluctant to see sacramental symbolism here (such as baptism and the Lord’s Supper in the images of water and blood) although this has been a common view from the earliest centuries. More promising is the view that sees Passover symbolism at work. John may be making the point that the crucified Jesus qualifies as a Passover victim. He notes, for instance, that Jesus’ legs are not broken, likely because it was illegal for any Passover sacrifice to have broken bones. The lamb must be a perfect sacrifice. In case we miss this subtle point, John even alludes to the Passover requirement in Exodus 12:46 at the end of the paragraph, “Not one of his bones will be broken” (John 19:36; see also Num. 9:12; Ps. 34:20).
But there are more theological allusions to Passover. J. Massyngberde Ford has successfully argued that one of the responsibilities of the temple during Passover sacrifices was to verify that the lamb was not already dead as it was brought forward for sacrifice. This was done by watching for the strong flow of blood that would “spurt forth” when the lamb’s throat was cut.20 The blood must flow, the Talmud later argued, as water (or fluid). Thus the Mishnah provides guidelines for testing a valid sacrifice, and flowing, fluid blood is prominent (m. Hullin 2.6). Again, the image of Jesus on the cross evokes major Passover symbolism. His was a living sacrifice, a genuine life that had been taken.
Most interpreters agree that John’s symbolism points to a sign that the life and cleansing that come now from Jesus’ death have arrived. Christ’s death is the basis of eternal life and renewal (6:53–54). According to Hebrews 9:19, Moses inaugurated the first covenant with blood, water, and hyssop; likewise, Jesus is inaugurating another covenant through his death. But we should also note another set of symbols. Water flows from Jesus’ body. In John 7:37–39 at the Feast of Tabernacles Jesus gave a specific promise referring to himself and water flowing “from his belly” for any who desired to drink. True, this is a metaphor, and John quickly interprets it to say that this water is the Spirit, which will only come when Jesus is glorified. Water and Spirit have come together frequently in the Gospel of John (3:5; 4:10–24; 7:37–39) and it should come as no surprise. Judaism made the same connection (Ezek. 36:25–32; 47:1–12).
But most remarkably, this union of water and Spirit has been anchored at Tabernacles—the setting of John 7 (which helps us understand 19:34). As we discovered in chapter 7, Tabernacles had a water festival in the late autumn, in which Israel remembered the miracle of water conducted by Moses when he struck the rock at Meribah (Ex. 17:6). This struck rock became a vital part of the Jewish story. It was a rock that gave water and life! In some rabbinic legends this rock followed them in the desert! The rock of water even merged into the promises for the future described by Zechariah (Zech. 13:1; 14:8), becoming a model for the eternal flowing that would spring from Jerusalem. When the rabbis were asked what this eternal water really represented, their answer was simple: It referred to the Holy Spirit.21
Early medieval rabbinic commentaries enjoyed expanding this rock/water story, and an extensive tradition must have developed in which speculation analyzed the miracle. Paul even uses it in 1 Corinthians 10:4 to say that the rock of the desert was Christ. In medieval Jewish commentaries, scholars noted that Moses hit the rock twice. The first time it gave blood and only the second time it gave water.22
Therefore 19:34 joins 19:30 as one more suggestion that at the death of Christ, not only the life-giving benefits of his death, but likewise the promise of his Spirit are now coming free. John 19:34 is then a symbolic fulfillment of 7:38, which Jesus gave at the Feast of Tabernacles. “Out of his heart [or belly] shall flow rivers of living water” (RSV).
Even though 19:35 does not mention the Beloved Disciple, this is an accurate inference since he has already been introduced at the foot of the cross (19:26). This is an unusual verse (cf. also 21:24), where John’s authority not as a collector of traditions about Jesus but as a personal eyewitness to Jesus stands firm. In its simplest terms it means that the things recorded here are true and reliable. His words in this Gospel become a part of the evidence for Jesus’ life, evidence we have been reading and weighing from the beginning. This same confident stance appears in 1 John 1:1–4, showing that in his mind, the foundation of his apostolic ministry is that he was there; his own eyes and hands confirm the reality of what transpired.
John concludes the picture of Jesus on the cross with a scriptural summation (19:36–37). Both the failure to break Jesus’ legs and his piercing with a soldier’s lance recalled passages that lend meaning to these events. We discovered how Exodus 12:46 helped interpret the failure to break Jesus’ legs (see comments on 19:33), and so John here paraphrases the verse. But also John reflects on Zechariah 12:10, where the prophet describes poignantly how Israel will look on the prophet (or God? or the Messiah?) and lament Israel’s harmful lack of faith: “They will look on me, the one they have pierced, and they will mourn for him as one mourns for an only child, and grieve bitterly for him as one grieves for a firstborn son.” As John stands at the foot of the cross—an eyewitness to Jesus’ remarkable work—he contemplates the symbolism of Israel now gazing at the very messenger, God’s Son, sent to redeem the world.
Jesus’ Burial (19:38–42)
WHILE MOST OF the events recorded by John at the cross are uniquely Johannine, in the burial story he returns to materials shared by the other Gospels (Matt. 27:57–61; Mark 15:42–47; Luke 23:50–56). Each of the evangelists confirms that a man named Joseph asks Pilate for the body of Jesus. Building a composite picture, the Gospels add that he is wealthy (Matt. 27:57) and a member of the Sanhedrin (Mark 15:43; Luke 23:50), which made him a resident of Jerusalem. This explains why he would have a tomb just outside the city.
Originally Joseph was from “Arimathea,” but archaeologists have not been successful locating this village. The best suggestions are Ramah (Ramathaim-zophim) or Ramallah in Judea north of Jerusalem.23 Ramah played an important role in Samuel’s life (1 Sam. 1:1, 19; 2:11; 7:17) and therefore was a city of strong Jewish tradition. Luke refers to Arimathea as a “Judean town” (Luke 23:50). He also notes that Joseph was a courageous man who was looking for the kingdom of God and that he did not concur with the prosecution of Jesus (23:51).24
John includes few of these details, but adds that Joseph is one of Jesus’ disciples (19:38; cf. Matt. 27:57) and that he comes secretly because he fears the Sanhedrin leadership.25 This may be explained by his disagreement with the Sanhedrin’s prosecution of Jesus (Luke 23:51). John’s description of him, however, may be critical, given what he says in John 12:42–43 about secret followers of Jesus among these authorities, who out of fear refused to give a public witness, “for they loved praise from men more than praise from God.”
Nicodemus (19:39) is another member of the Sanhedrin (7:50; see also 3:1–10), and he joins Joseph. John’s portrait may sound critical, but Joseph and Nicodemus redeem their images since in this final deed they make a public gesture that holds risk. The Sanhedrin understood that the bodies had to be buried before sundown (19:31), and they would have put Jesus’ body in a common grave outside the city walls (Josephus, Ant. 5.1.14[44]). Joseph risks ceremonial uncleanness from touching a dead body (thus prohibiting him from all festival ceremonies), not to mention challenges to his political and religious career. To place Jesus in a tomb of prestige implies some endorsement, some honor to this man the council has deemed a criminal.
Together these men bury Jesus in a garden tomb that has never been used before (19:41), near the site of crucifixion (19:42).26 John says that this takes place “in accordance with Jewish burial customs” (19:40b). In the first century, bodies were prepared for burial by wrapping them tightly with cloth and spices. The powdered spice would either be fitted among the cloth wrappings or packed beneath the body. Coins were often placed on the eyes and a napkin covered the face (20:7).
Nicodemus brings a considerable number of burial spices. Myrrh was an embalming powder commonly used in Egypt; aloe was a fragrant powdered sandalwood used generally as a perfume. The weight of these two spices is about seventy-five pounds.27 This is a remarkable amount and is reminiscent of the excessive wine in Cana (2:1–10) that marked Jesus’ first public appearance. At Herod the Great’s death, hundreds of servants carried spices (Josephus, Ant. 17:9.8 [199]), and when Gamaliel the Elder died in the first century, eighty pounds of spices were burned.28 Such spices are a signal of Jesus’ honor. We should recall too that Mary has already symbolically anointed Jesus for burial in Bethany (12:1–8). In the Synoptic tradition, the women at the cross come to anoint Jesus on Sunday (Mark 16:1), no doubt not realizing what Josephus and Nicodemus have done.
First-century Jews carved cave tombs in the limestone hills surrounding Jerusalem’s walls. The type of tomb described in the Gospels for Jesus was typically characterized by the following elements: (1) A rolling stone. The door of the tomb was a heavy, wheel-shaped stone anywhere from four to six feet tall, which was placed in a shallow trough and held upright by a short wall on either side of the tomb opening. Rolling stones could be opened again for ongoing use but required great strength—thus the women’s anxiety about finding assistance (Mark 16:3) and about breaking the Roman guard and seal (Matt. 27:65–66). In the Synoptics, an earthquake rolls open Jesus’ tomb (Matt. 28:2).29
(2) A burial chamber. Upon entering the tomb, one entered a square preparation room, encircled by a stone bench running along the room’s perimeter. Here the body was laid and prepared for burial. When the Synoptics say that “Jesus was laid in his own new tomb” (Matt. 27:60), they refer to this bench. Note in John 20:5 Jesus’ burial clothes are discovered laying here, rolled up on one side.
(3) Burial niches (or kokhim). The prepared body was then slipped into a small, six-foot tunnel (height about 24 inches) that was carved in the wall, usually above the bench (or in another chamber where these niches would be cut). Here the body would rest until it decomposed.30
(4) Bone boxes (or ossuaries). After decomposition, the bones would be gathered into a decorated limestone “bone box” and kept on the tomb floor. These tombs were costly and generally contained numerous niches and ossuaries. “Family tombs” were common. When John notes that Jesus is placed in a “new” tomb, this means that there are no ossuaries and no used burial niches. He is the first laid in a newly cut kokh.31
Bridging Contexts
AS AN INTERPRETER it is important for me to grasp John’s theology of the cross. John is not simply supplementing a larger mosaic begun by the Synoptics. Each of the evangelists is a theologian weaving a tapestry that is very much his own, dependent on the traditional guidelines current in the church but nevertheless bearing marks of its creator’s interests and character. If I represent John’s story of the cross and lapse inadvertently into a generalized discussion of “Jesus dying on Golgotha,” I will miss the unique and unrivaled message John offers. John is asking us to look through his lens. It isn’t Luke’s lens, nor is it Matthew’s. Through John’s lens we may gain a new glimpse, a fresh appraisal of an old story.
John and the Synoptics. The first hurdle for any interpreter, therefore, is to make a decision regarding John and the Synoptics. This is the same struggle I described in 18:1–19:16a, since here in the Passion story we have a significant body of material that overlaps the other three Gospels. But in the present section, it is not so much that we have literary sections that are the same between John and perhaps Mark, but that while John is writing with the same backdrop (Jesus on the cross), he records completely different episodes. No crowds mock Jesus on the cross. Simon of Cyrene fails to appear. There is no cry of dereliction.
But John does introduce things we have not heard elsewhere. Different prophecies are fulfilled and different words come from Jesus. Jesus speaks to his mother and delivers her into the care of the Beloved Disciple. When Jesus dies, we read about a spear-thrust and blood and water; this is joined with an explanation of why Jesus’ legs are left unbroken. Here we even learn that Joseph and Nicodemus anoint Jesus’ body for burial, hardly leaving room for the women to come with burial spices on Sunday.
I am strongly tempted to harmonize these details—and to some degree I must, since I am theologically committed to Jesus’ death on the cross as the center point of my salvation. But I have an equally strong reflex to leave them alone, to read the Johannine story on its own terms, and to see what his tapestry looks like without unweaving it and intertwining it with the others.
Interpretation and symbolism. The second hurdle—and here I believe we confront a far more difficult challenge—is to place some hermeneutical boundaries on the symbolism of the chapter. It is evident by now that John is a writer who loves wordplay and double meaning. Sometimes he tells us up front what the deeper meaning is (e.g., 2:21; 11:49–53); at other times he is subtle, leaving us to guess (e.g., 3:5; 4:10). But how do we know when John is simply describing events he has witnessed at the cross (19:35) and when is he suggesting that we should look beneath the surface, obtaining meanings that are nuanced and figurative?
There are nine different episodes in the present section, each of which invites some degree of symbolic interpretation: (1) Jesus’ title on the cross, written in Greek, Aramaic, and Latin; (2) the seamless garment taken by the soldiers; (3) Jesus’ mother and the Beloved Disciple at the foot of the cross; (4) Jesus’ words on the cross joined to an apparent giving of the Spirit; (5) breaking the legs of the crucified; (6) blood and water from Jesus’ side; (7) burial spices used for Jesus at the tomb; (8) Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea; and (9) a newly-built tomb.
In each case interpreters have wondered if in fact there are secondary meanings. For example, the blood and water from Jesus’ side (19:34) may simply describe the violence of the scene. But as early as the fourth century exegetes pointed to Genesis 2:21 and the creation of Eve (who came from the side of Adam). For early medieval interpreters, 19:34 is the birth of the church, the “bride” of Christ, now removed from Jesus’ side. For Tertullian and Aquinas, the water represents baptism by water while the blood represents baptism by martyrdom. Others have seen in these symbols the establishment of the sacraments of Eucharist and baptism.
Few Protestant exegetes today are inclined to follow this thinking, but similar suggestions circulate today. Take the garden, where the tomb was located. In a couple days Jesus will appear here and meet Mary Magdalene (20:1). Is this a play on the Garden of Eden? Or take the seamless tunic of Christ: Is this the seamless unity of the church? Some have looked at the spices anointing Jesus in 19:40 and said that this points to a “sweet-smelling” sacrifice offered to God. Others, seeing the reference here to Nicodemus, are reminded of chapter 3 and the discussion of water and rebirth, and wonder if this could be another sacramental allusion to baptism.
There must be some interpretative control in all of this. We do not have license to free-associate John’s imagery. Otherwise the teacher or preacher can suddenly make the Passion story a canvas on which any picture may appear. Some symbolism is simply not there. For instance, I seriously doubt whether the seamless tunic conveys any secondary meaning other than to underscore its preciousness. Yet when John gives me a hint, for example, by citing a Scripture reference, or when he has alluded to the events of the cross elsewhere in his Gospel, this gives me license to look beneath the surface of the narrative.
Two hermeneutical principles therefore must control how we work. (1) Symbols must be anchored responsibly in the wider cultural context of first-century Judaism or Hellenism, teasing out, as it were, the background John’s audience knows well. This is the case when Jesus is dying on the cross. Passover symbolism abounds, and John is likely assuming that his audience (which knows Passover ritual) will recognize it at once. Like a British poem referring to “the holly and the ivy” at once calls up the season of Christmas, so we must permit John to do the same in his culture.
(2) Symbols must also be anchored in the literary clues John has provided elsewhere in his story. This is true, for example, when we link the water and blood description to other references to water in the Gospel, especially to the one that predicts water flowing from Christ himself (7:37–39; cf. 4:15). In this case, I must treat John’s Gospel as a literary whole, employing intratextual links as keys to meaning. John wrote chapter 12 knowing what he would write in chapter 19. When he was finished, he perhaps returned to chapter 12 and revised it, fine-tuning allusions and connections. It is no accident that Joseph of Arimathea is described in 19:38 as a secret disciple who feared the temple leaders. One glance at 12:42–43 shows that John has in mind a type of disciple, one whose image Joseph matches exactly.
Major ideas. If we try to organize the chief themes at work in 19:16b–42, it becomes apparent that three major ideas are at work. (1) The subject of Jesus’ kingship, which played such an important role in 18:28–19:16a, continues here. If Jesus is indeed “the king of the Jews” (18:19), we should expect to see kingship themes at work in the present section. On the cross, he is “lifted up” (not merely crucified), and after he dies he is buried in a manner highly peculiar for a common criminal.
(2) John’s theology of the cross incorporates not simply suggestions of glorification, but also the idea that Jesus is a sacrifice dying on the cross, and we must draw our understanding of this imagery from the season in which he dies, namely, Passover. The presence of genuine Passover motifs in chapter 19 has come under debate in recent years, and occasionally commentaries will note it.32 But we must be clear that it is exegetically reasonable and defensible to see that John has a theology of sacrifice and that salvation and eternal life are dependent on Jesus’ death, not merely his revelation of God. This means that John’s view of Jesus on the cross coheres with the overall New Testament presentation of Christ’s death. In John’s thinking, there is no doubt that the “blood of Jesus . . . purifies us from all sin” (1 John 1:7). Thus, we can look confidently at the cross in chapter 19 as a place of redemptive sacrifice.
(3) John also links the cross and the Spirit. Jesus’ death is not merely the culmination of his life, nor is his work simply a sacrifice by which his followers may gain life eternal. Jesus’ death also opens up new possibilities for spiritual life and renewal. In short, symbolism of the Spirit is at work in the description of Jesus’ death, and these deserve close treatment. Christians are prone to see the work of Christ as limited to atonement, but in fact, another feature of his work, another gift from the cross, is his Spirit given in the epochal “hour” as he begins his glorious return to the Father.
Secondary issues. There are also a number of secondary issues that deserve note. (1) John wants us to see clearly that Jesus is a victor, not a victim. He has placed subtle clues in the story to highlight Jesus’ strength and control even at Golgotha.
(2) The appearance of Joseph and Nicodemus at the end of the story is a surprise. Are they “secret disciples” like those mentioned in 12:42–43? If so, what comment is John making? Should they be compared with the other major male antagonists in the story—Pilate, Annas, and Caiaphas?
(3) The tomb is linked not to the resurrection (as in the Synoptics) but to the cross in this Gospel. It serves as a continuation and completion of themes developed on Golgotha, not as a platform for the resurrection of chapter 20. This is not to say that the resurrection is insignificant, and interpreters who say that it is a mere postscript to the story are clearly wrong. But John wants us to see the tomb’s relation to the drama that unfolded on Good Friday, not merely let it serve an apologetic that defends the resurrection (as we have, for instance, in Matthew).
Contemporary Significance
THE CROSS OF Christ is the great sign we have awaited throughout the entire course of this Gospel. Each of the events recorded in the Book of Signs (chs. 1–12) pointed to another event, a greater event, hallmarked by “the hour.” These miracles were “signs” bearing a meaning that exceeded the mere event at hand. Stone pots in Cana, the new temple, living bread in Galilee, Siloam in Jerusalem, Lazarus of Bethany—all were important signs in their own right, but their deeper meaning awaited “the hour,” that time when Christ would perform the greatest sign of all, the sign whose historic reality matches its deeper meaning.
In his death, Jesus provides the gift that every other sign promised. The bread of Galilee (ch. 6) pointed to heavenly bread, consumed when Jesus gave his flesh for the life of the world (6:51). The water of Samaria (ch. 4) or Tabernacles (ch. 7) is truly the Holy Spirit (4:24; 7:39), which must look toward the hour (4:23; 7:39) for distribution. The new temple will only discover its true meaning when Christ has died and been raised to life (2:21–22). The deeper importance of Lazarus’s story is not that one man in a village is now alive, but that the man is present who reigns over death and life and whose own death will therefore pose to insurmountable difficulty.
The cross is therefore the great sign, the reality from which every other sign becomes like a shadow, outlining that reality but lacking its complete form. Effects of every other sign will fade. Lazarus remained mortal, the crowds in Galilee would hunger again the next day. But this final sign, this great sign, achieved a work that would never be repeated. The hour brings a work that has eternal consequences.
But since it is a sign, it is still possible for those who live in darkness, who belong to the world, to miss its meaning (1:5). Jesus is simply a dying man to the high priests. Pilate senses that something huge and important is going on here, but he lacks the moral courage to act on his instincts. But having said that, we should also note that the reality, the truth of this epochal event is so strong that it forces its way to the surface even in these men’s lives. Caiaphas cannot help but describe Jesus’ death as salvation for the nation (11:50). Pilate cannot help but describe Jesus as the king of the Jews (18:39). The light is shining and winning despite the darkness, despite every attempt to suppress its truth. Indeed, this is the hour “of glory” when Scripture is fulfilled (19:24, 28, 36–37), Jesus completes what he set out to accomplish (19:30), and he begins his return to the Father.
Jesus the king. We discovered in 18:1–19:16a that Jesus is Israel’s king incognito. John constructs his story to make the regal glory of Jesus the central motif of his Passion story. In the crucifixion and burial scenes, John returns to this theme. For instance, we already know that Jesus is “lifted up” on the cross, lifted as if elevated in glory (3:14; 8:28; 12:32, 34). Here the title over the cross (“JESUS OF NAZARETH, THE KING OF THE JEWS”), which will not be changed, makes the imagery obvious.
It is not that he is merely king over Israel, but John notes that Jesus’ title is written for all of the major languages of the Mediterranean: Greek, Latin, and Aramaic. This king is not a provincial ruler, but a supreme monarch, whose authority now sweeps up those people speaking “foreign” tongues. Jesus has “other sheep” not of this fold (10:16), who also will benefit from his heroic deed as a dying shepherd (10:17). These are sheep who do not speak Aramaic, sheep outside the flock of Israel. The title on the cross, therefore, anticipates Peter’s gigantic step into Caesarea, where he claims one of Jesus’ Latin-speaking sheep (Acts 10:30–48). It also anticipates the Greek-speaking church of Antioch (11:19), whose place in the kingdom was challenged by other Christians in Jerusalem. Jesus is a global king, and in God’s eye the cross included countless more languages than these three: Russian, Swahili, Swedish, Bemba, Arabic, Spanish; 19:20 suggests that there is no limit.
But if Jesus is a king, he deserves a king’s burial. Royal burials were expensive. Herod the Great was despised at the end of his reign, but Josephus records the elaborate effort that went into his funeral. His bier was gold and embroidered with precious stones, his body was covered with purple linens, a gold crown was on his head and a gold scepter in his hand. The funeral party marched from Jerusalem to the Herodium (east of Bethlehem), and the procession alone was eight “stadia” (1500 meters) long. Five hundred slaves carried aromatic oils and spices.33
It is no accident, then, that when we read about Jesus’ tomb, similar themes prevail. His was no pauper’s grave. At great expense a wealthy man provided a tomb no doubt among other wealthy family tombs on the fringes of Jerusalem. At great expense, a religious leader brought a tremendous amount of burial spice to Jesus’ grave. Such cost was customary for Israel’s kings. When Jeremiah spoke to Zedekiah and told him that Babylon would take Jerusalem, he assured the king that he would not be killed by the sword, but would die with honor. “And as spices were burned for your ancestors, the earlier kings who preceded you, so they will burn spices for you and lament for you” (Jer. 34:5, NRSV). Jesus was buried in a king’s hoard of spices.
Moreover, John tells us that Jesus was buried in a “garden,” and it is striking that this was the same setting for the entombment of Israel’s kings (2 Kings 21:18, 26). King David’s tomb was considered a garden (Neh. 3:16 LXX), and according to Acts 2:29 it was well known in the New Testament period. Thus, such a setting provides a perfect climax to the regal death and burial of Jesus, the King of the Jews. Jerusalem had burial places for criminals and slaves. According to Acts 1, this is the region of Jerusalem where Judas finally found his grave. But Jesus is buried in splendor, in beauty, in an unused tomb, as if it had been carved for him alone.
In the modern world, we are hard pressed to find a corresponding image for “royal burials.” In recent memory, no doubt the funeral of England’s Diana, Princess of Wales, on September 6, 1997, is our best example. On the morning of her funeral, the coffin and its extensive cortège traveled from Kensington Palace to Westminster Abbey in London. During that procession, the Abbey’s tenor bell rang every minute as thirty-one million people in Britain and two billion people around the world looked on.34 The one-hour ceremony was accompanied by organ music from Mendelssohn, Bach, Dvořák, Vaughan Williams, and Elgar, and virtually every person in the royal family of Great Britain was present. Following the service, Diana’s coffin was taken to an island in the center of an ornamental lake at Althorp, her parent’s home.35
Perhaps one of the best literary images for such a “royal funeral” has been written by J. R. R. Tolkien in his three-volume set, The Lord of the Rings. Following the climactic battle that determines the fate of Middle Earth, the great King Thèoden and his valiant lady Eowyn are found dead on the battlefield of Pelennor. Noble songs are sung, a regal tomb is prepared, and lords and nobles bear their bodies in splendor to their final rest (Book 5, chs. 6–8). We who live in a culture without royalty can barely comprehend this pageantry. This is the picture of Nicodemus and Joseph at work. Jesus is King!
The cross and sacrifice. At the beginning of the Gospel, we were introduced to Jesus by John the Baptist. “Look, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!” (1:29). While I mentioned at that verse the difficulty of seeing this reference as the Passover lamb, still the suggestion is clear that Jesus was a sacrificial lamb. When we come to the Passion story, John carefully reminds us that it occurred in the season of Passover, when Judaism celebrated its departure from Egypt and its protection through the spilled blood of a lamb. Even though Jesus had already celebrated his Passover meal the night before and even though lambs in Jerusalem had already been slain, the imagery of Jesus as a Passover sacrifice is unmistakable. Jesus’ legs were not broken because no lamb could come to the temple as a sacrifice with broken bones. Jesus’ wound offered evidence sought by every priest that indeed he was a qualified lamb, an acceptable sacrifice, able to meet the stringent demands of the festival.
There is an unusual connection in this regard with 19:17, where John emphasizes that Jesus carried his own cross to Golgotha. This reminded early church fathers such as Chrysostom of Genesis 22:6, where Isaac carried the wood (laid on his back by Abraham) needed for his sacrifice. In first-century Judaism Isaac was held up as a model who accepted voluntary death, and most interesting, his sacrifice was dated on Nisan 15, the date of Passover. Moreover, the phrase “God himself will provide the lamb” (Gen. 22:8) became the basis of lamb sacrifice, generally leading Jewish interpreters in the first century to compare Isaac’s near-sacrifice with the lamb of the Passover story.36 When Jesus bears his wooden cross at Passover—as a lamb whose limbs cannot be broken—Jewish readers may at once have recalled Isaac, the precious son of Abraham, whose story was repeated and cherished at this time of year. Genesis 22 describes Isaac as “the only son,” a word translated in the LXX as the “beloved” (Gk. agapetos) son.
Viewing Jesus as a sacrifice that covered personal sin was important to John and his followers. Walking in the light means having the blood of Christ as a cleansing for sin (1 John 1:7). Paul presses this application further. Calling his followers to be righteous, he uses Passover terminology: “Get rid of the old yeast that you may be a new batch without yeast—as you really a re. For Christ, our Passover lamb, has been sacrificed” (1 Cor. 5:7). In other words, it was commonplace among the earliest Christians to look at Jesus as a sacrificial lamb, even a Passover lamb, slain for their benefit.
Thus, as we view Christ dying on the cross, we too at once should reflect on the benefits of his death for our lives. As Judaism viewed the lamb whose blood in the Exodus story saved them from certain death and led to freedom from captivity, so too Jesus’ death brings protection and freedom and life. In his most explicit teaching on his death, Jesus speaks of this gift of his life as necessary for salvation (John 6:51–58). We cannot simply be enlightened by Jesus; we must see ourselves as saved, rescued from a crisis as terrible as slavery to the Egyptians. The pathos of the Passover story—its grim tale of slavery and the thrill of its redemption—must be recreated in our hearts if we are to appreciate the depth of what John saw when he witnessed Jesus dying on the cross that Passover season.
Recreating this story for people today requires that we must both dramatically relive the Passover story and Jesus’ participation in it as well as generate modern stories that help us reexperience the meaning of costly sacrifice. Books of sermons have these in abundance, and sometimes I fear that they trivialize the depth of Jesus’ sacrifice on Calvary. While many of these stories seem emotionally overcharged, I recently discovered a story that was truly astounding. Albrecht Dürer was the famous artist of the German Renaissance, who lived from 1471–1528 in Nürnberg, Germany. Many Christians will have seen his famous wood cuttings of the horsemen of the Apocalypse. In 1508 Dürer made his famous “Study of Praying Hands,” which were modeled on his best friend, Franz Knigstein. These two men were young, poor, aspiring artists who had made a pact. They “drew straws” (or “lots” in that day) and the man who won would go on to art school, supported by the labor of the other. When one artist found fame, he would return and finance the art studies of his friend.
Dürer won. Later when he returned to his friend in Nürnberg, he found him in ill health from hard work, his fingers so disfigured through labor that he could not study art for the rest of his life. His fingers were so twisted and bent he could not even hold a brush. Dürer was filled with sorrow, and once when he saw his friend praying, he was so moved by his sacrifice and piety that he modeled his “Study of Praying Hands” on Franz’s hands. The portrait became a testimony to his friend’s sacrifice that marked Dürer for the rest of his life.37
The cross and the Spirit. One of the most provocative themes in John’s story of the cross centers on his many suggestions that at the time of Jesus’ death, the Spirit is at work. In my exegesis I have demonstrated how this motif appears in 19:30 and 34. At the hour of death, Jesus does not “give up” his spirit as much as he “hands over” his Spirit. In the same manner the water that flows from Jesus’ side recalls 7:37–39 and the Tabernacles water that Jesus promises will flow from within him. Throughout the Book of Signs water is frequently associated with the gift of the Spirit. In John 1 Jesus’ water baptism is supplanted by his being anointed in the Spirit. In Jesus’ conversation with Nicodemus, water and Spirit form a unity bringing new life. In chapter 4 Jesus offers living water to the Samaritan woman, which (we learn later) is water that symbolizes the Spirit, offered again as living water at Tabernacles in chapter 7. In fact, throughout the Book of Signs water is generally associated with the messianic gift that is to come, a gift that will generally arrive when Jesus is “lifted up” during “the hour.”
In Jesus’ Farewell Discourse he makes the explicit promise of the Spirit and links its coming with his death and departure. “But I tell you the truth: It is for your good that I am going away. Unless I go away, the Counselor [the Spirit-Paraclete] will not come to you” (16:7). In other words, the coming of the Spirit is dependent on the departure of Jesus; in some fashion, when Jesus dies, when he begins his departure to the Father, the arrival of the Spirit will be a feature of his gifts. In fact (as we saw in chs. 14 and 16) the identities of Jesus and the Spirit-Paraclete are so closely aligned that they are almost indistinguishable. The promised Spirit will be Jesus’ alter-ego, resuming the role of Jesus after his departure.
The result of this connection between Christ and the Spirit—the promises of Christ and the gift of the Spirit—is that, despite our Trinitarian instincts, the Spirit becomes an aspect of the life of Christ in John’s Gospel. The Spirit is Christ’s Spirit, linked intimately to his life. In John’s language, Christians do not receive the Holy Spirit, they have Christ’s own Spirit (see 1 John 4:13), given as a gift when his life expires. Thus we see the irony of the source of living water experiencing thirst. Thus we see symbols at work on the cross that at the moment of death, when Jesus expires, the Spirit becomes free. In John’s thought Jesus Christ is like a precious vial of perfume, filled with the fragrant Spirit of God. It is a gift he offers throughout his life but cannot genuinely extend until “the hour” when the vial is broken, when the crystal is shattered and the fragrance of its contents fills the world.38
The spiritual implications for this are significant. This means that the gift of Christ is not merely a gift of salvation, if by salvation we mean freedom from condemnation and the promise of eternal life. John affirms this and more. He understands that the gift of Christ has to do with transformation and renewal. Jesus offers life, not mere freedom from eternal judgment. Jesus offers himself, and the vehicle of this gift is the Spirit, by which he and the Father will indwell the believer (14:23). Jesus came into the world in order that men and women might become children of God by the power of God (1:12). And this miracle can only take place as a result of the Spirit of God entering and transforming them. The cross and the Spirit are thus an inseparable unity in this Gospel because the Spirit is an integral feature of Jesus’ own life.
All of this anticipates the giving of the Spirit in chapter 20, where John’s imagery will be complete. On Easter Sunday Jesus does not send a foreign power to indwell his followers, he breathes on them, giving to them personally and filling them with his own Spirit and life (20:22).
Any evangelical theology, therefore, that disparages the Spirit, that is critical of so-called charismatic Christians on theological grounds, will find itself in sharp disagreement with John. But any charismatic theology that neglects the cross and only celebrates renewal and infilling will likewise find itself at odds with this apostle. For John, the work of Christ embraces both historic sacrifice and the Spirit.
Three secondary issues. (1) Jesus as victor. Throughout the trial sequence in 18:1–19:16a we learned how John portrays Jesus as the victorious king, knowing more than his captors and controlling the progress of events. Jesus is not a victim in this story. The same theme appears in the story of the cross. Jesus carries his own cross and requires no help (19:17). His opponents are powerless to alter the regal title of his cross. His final cry is significant as well: “It is finished” (19:30). The word used here can mean “to bring to an end,” but it bears the nuance of “to fulfill” or “bring to completion.” In 4:34 Jesus described his “food” as doing God’s will and completing his work. In 17:4 Jesus uses the same verb again: “I have brought you glory on earth by completing the work you gave me to do.” Now on the cross Jesus is finished as he brings to completion his divine tasks.
Why is this important? “It is finished” is our signal that God has succeeded in accomplishing everything he designed to do in the life of his Son. In Jesus Christ God himself was at work demonstrating his love for us, revealing his will for our lives, and bringing about a reconciliation that needs no supplement. Jesus’ victory is the basis of our security. My confidence in God and the assurance of my salvation cannot be anchored in my religious performance. “It is finished.” What was needed to satisfy God ought to satisfy us as well. This is the good news of the gospel.
(2) The tomb and the cross. In the Synoptic Gospels, the tomb of Jesus serves as a prelude from which we await the resurrection. The tomb is shut and sealed, a guard is posted, and everyone awaits as angels arrive and an earthquake breaks open this grave that cannot contain its occupant. As Matthew, Mark, and Luke envision the tomb, it is theologically linked to Easter Sunday, becoming a vital part of the early Christian apologetic for Jesus’ resurrection.
John, of course, employs the tomb of Jesus in the resurrection story (20:1–10). But there is no account of guards or seals or heavy stones rolled in front. This tomb is the resting place for the great King, the culmination of his work on the cross, the terminus of his journey through the hands of Caiaphas and Pilate. The resurrection for John is not a solution to a problem (Jesus’ death and burial), but another step along the way, as Jesus moves from earth to heaven. Therefore the tomb story offers little in the way of apologetic material for Easter, but points us to motifs developed on Golgotha.
The tomb thus is not a place of depressing, exhausted defeat. It too, like the cross, is a place of glory and victory. Its chambers, unspoiled by secular use (“in the garden there was a new tomb,” italics added), are filled with the fragrance of regal spices as two leading figures of Jerusalem bear Jesus to rest. There is something here for us to consider when we build our Good Friday worship services. When we cloak the altar, when we extinguish the candles and leave in silence, have we in fact commemorated the defeat of Jesus, the martyrdom of our Lord? This is not John’s understanding. Jesus has “finished” his work. The hour is nearing its close.
(3) Joseph and Nicodemus. It has been the view of a variety of scholars that Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus are not merely historical figures but symbols. I agree. In many ways their description in 19:38–39 sounds similar to the severe exhortation John gives in 12:42–43. “Yet at the same time many even among the leaders believed in him. But because of the Pharisees they would not confess their faith for fear they would be put out of the synagogue; for they loved praise from men more than praise from God.” Is Joseph one of these? Is Nicodemus? If John is identifying a type of disciple, it seems beyond dispute that these are men who lived two lives: They belonged to the inner circle of Jewish leadership, but they were intrigued with Jesus. Nicodemus even speaks up in his defense in 7:50–51, and in 19:38 John calls Joseph a disciple.
In 12:32 Jesus predicted that when he was lifted up from the earth, he would draw “all men to himself.” Now that Jesus has been lifted up on the cross, Joseph and Nicodemus are drawn; they step out from their ambivalent positions at tremendous risk and publicly acknowledge Jesus’ honor. Imagine a dialogue between Caiaphas, the high priest, and Joseph, a member of his ruling council. Why does Jesus deserve a burial of honor? Why not bury him with frauds and vagrants? These men risked their personal honor by protecting Jesus’ honor. To bury him like this was a statement noted undoubtedly by their peers throughout Jerusalem.
The models of discipleship we witnessed among Andrew, Peter, Philip, and Nathanael (1:35–51) as well as the Samaritan woman (4:27–42), each point to the importance of the public visibility of faith among true disciples. As professionals with considerable social prestige, Joseph and Nicodemus were stepping into the circle of true discipleship, joining the community of the faithful. There is a lot in this that is worthy of notice. Especially among men and women for whom the public visibility of faith comes at some risk, John is setting before us a sterling example of two men who used their considerable resources to glorify Jesus—and in doing so, chose to become genuine followers of Christ.