EARLY ON THE first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene went to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the entrance. 2So she came running to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one Jesus loved, and said, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we don’t know where they have put him!”
3So Peter and the other disciple started for the tomb. 4Both were running, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. 5He bent over and looked in at the strips of linen lying there but did not go in. 6Then Simon Peter, who was behind him, arrived and went into the tomb. He saw the strips of linen lying there, 7as well as the burial cloth that had been around Jesus’ head. The cloth was folded up by itself, separate from the linen. 8Finally the other disciple, who had reached the tomb first, also went inside. He saw and believed. 9(They still did not understand from Scripture that Jesus had to rise from the dead.)
10Then the disciples went back to their homes, 11but Mary stood outside the tomb crying. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb 12and saw two angels in white, seated where Jesus’ body had been, one at the head and the other at the foot.
13They asked her, “Woman, why are you crying?”
“They have taken my Lord away,” she said, “and I don’t know where they have put him.” 14At this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not realize that it was Jesus.
15“Woman,” he said, “why are you crying? Who is it you are looking for?”
Thinking he was the gardener, she said, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will get him.”
16Jesus said to her, “Mary.”
She turned toward him and cried out in Aramaic, “Rabboni!” (which means Teacher).
17Jesus said, “Do not hold on to me, for I have not yet returned to the Father. Go instead to my brothers and tell them, ‘I am returning to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’ ”
18Mary Magdalene went to the disciples with the news: “I have seen the Lord!” And she told them that he had said these things to her.
19On the evening of that first day of the week, when the disciples were together, with the doors locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you!” 20After he said this, he showed them his hands and side. The disciples were overjoyed when they saw the Lord.
21Again Jesus said, “Peace be with you! As the Father has sent me, I am sending you.” 22And with that he breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit. 23If you forgive anyone his sins, they are forgiven; if you do not forgive them, they are not forgiven.”
24Now Thomas (called Didymus), one of the Twelve, was not with the disciples when Jesus came. 25So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord!”
But he said to them, “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe it.”
26A week later his disciples were in the house again, and Thomas was with them. Though the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you!” 27Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe.”
28Thomas said to him, “My Lord and my God!”
29Then Jesus told him, “Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.”
30Jesus did many other miraculous signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not recorded in this book. 31But these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name.
Original Meaning
CHAPTER 20 IS perhaps one of the least understood but theologically important chapters in the Fourth Gospel. Its most obvious value is in the record it provides for the resurrection of Jesus. But unlike the Synoptics John takes us far deeper into the details of what transpired on Easter morning. Matthew and Mark provide minimal information about the resurrection appearances. Matthew reports a meeting of Jesus with Mary Magdalene and “the other Mary” at the tomb (Matt. 28:2) and then tells us how Jesus met the disciples later (28:9), who “clasped his feet and worshiped him.” Mark says that the circle of women included Mary Magdalene as well as Mary the mother of James and Salome (Mark 16:1), but his shorter ending (to 16:8) gives no resurrection appearance.1 Luke refers as well to the visit of the women and adds to Mark’s list that Joanna was there too (Luke 24:10). But for Luke, the chief story that conveys the importance of this day comes in 24:13–35, when Jesus appears along the Emmaus road to two disciples.2
John’s Gospel takes us in new directions. Three sections divide the chapter. (1) John begins by richly supplementing the Synoptic story, telling us about a personal reunion between Jesus and Mary Magdalene (20:1–18). While this story could fit easily into the minimalist tomb stories in the Synoptics, for John it is an important vehicle for telling us things about Jesus and what it means for Christians to have a transformed relationship with the resurrected Lord. Embedded in this account is the most explicit “empty tomb” description in the New Testament. Peter and the Beloved Disciple race to the tomb and become eyewitnesses, pointing to the evidence for Jesus’ resurrection.
(2) Jesus appears on Easter Sunday to the circle of apostles in seclusion in Jerusalem (20:19–23). This adds to the strength of the apostolic eyewitness by supplying a record not only of an empty tomb but also giving a personal eyewitness of Jesus alive from the grave. But once again, this is not John’s only interest in the story. Jesus’ presence conveys something more, a lesson and a description of what it means to experience this Jesus and to become one of his disciples filled with his Spirit. In a passage that has seen lengthy debate among interpreters, Jesus breathes on his disciples, filling them with his Spirit.
(3) The story takes an unexpected turn when we learn that Thomas, one of Jesus’ disciples who has appeared twice before in the Gospel (11:16; 14:5), is absent on Easter Sunday. One week later Jesus reappears, providing Thomas with the evidence enjoyed by the others. Again, this episode underscores the significance of solid apostolic eyewitness testimony (now Thomas may join his colleagues). But as in the two previous sections this one goes a step further. Jesus points beyond such evidence and tells Thomas and those who follow him (the church) about the value of such evidence and the privilege of possessing it. This final section is followed by summary verses that may have originally ended the Gospel (20:30–31).
John has designed chapter 20 in order to instruct us as readers about two chief themes: the historical evidence for Jesus’ resurrection and the nature of what it means to be his disciple in the era of his resurrection. (1) Since the Gospel’s earliest chapters we have observed how John compiles evidence for the “trial” of Jesus. As readers we have been jurors, weighing the evidence and making judgments. Now John provides us with the most significant evidence yet—the resurrection—as a final testimony of the divine identity of Jesus.
(2) But another theme threads through the chapter as well. Jesus promised that he would not leave his followers desolate (14:18). He would not abandon them or leave them alone following his death and departure. Rather, in several places in his Farewell Discourse (chs. 14–17) Jesus promised to send the Spirit, the Paraclete, as his departing blessing on his followers. John 20 is theologically linked to those chapters as fulfillment is linked to promise. John’s description of the scene and the anointing of the Spirit evoke images set in these earlier chapters.
Mary and the Empty Tomb (20:1–18)
THE NAME “MARY MAGDALENE” refers to Mary who came from the Galilean village of Magdala (located north of Tiberias on the west coast of the Sea of Galilee). She appears in John for the first time at the cross (19:25) and enjoys this lengthy and important episode on Easter Sunday. Elsewhere in the Gospels she is mentioned in Luke 8:1–3 among a list of women in Galilee who followed Jesus devoutly.3 Jesus had expelled numerous demons from her and, along with other women, she followed Jesus to Jerusalem to care for his needs (Matt. 27:55) and was even so bold as to stand with him on Golgotha (John 19:25).
Mary’s return to the tomb (along with other women) indicates that Jesus’ burial on Friday was done in some haste or that the women did not know about the preparations completed by Joseph and Nicodemus (19:40). Or perhaps Nicodemus did not have time on Friday to anoint completely Jesus’ body because of the vast amount of spices he had provided. The women wish to contribute to Jesus’ burial (Mark 16:1) and so bring spices as soon as the Sabbath is over. Mark suggests that when they arrive it is dawn on Sunday, but John tells us that it is so early, the morning is “still dark” (John 20:1).
On Friday Jesus was left on the burial preparation bench in the receiving room of the tomb chamber. No doubt the women thought they could return following the Sabbath, roll back the stone, and complete the burial, sliding Jesus’ body into one of the tomb’s burial niches (on Jewish burial practices, see comments on 19:38–42). Mary’s arrival misses the details seen later by Peter and John (20:6–7), no doubt because of the darkness.
Rolling stone tombs were meant to be opened and closed.4 The wheel-shaped stone door rolled on a stone track for access as other family members might be buried over the years. The Synoptics record the women’s anxiety about who will assist them in moving the heavy stone. Mary’s discovery that the tomb door has been rolled to one side suggested immediately to her that someone has entered the tomb. Perhaps someone came that night—or was in the tomb at that moment. The Synoptics tell us that the women step inside, and perhaps Mary’s flight (20:2) should be keyed to the appearance of an angel inside (see Mark 16:5). While John does not tell us these details, it is not hard to suppose that Mary examines the tomb’s interior, sees that Jesus is gone, and flees to find some of the others.
Mary’s report to Peter and “the other disciple” (presumably the Beloved Disciple or John, also mentioned in 13:23, 18:15–16; 19:35) conveys something of her dismay and fear. The reference to “they” (“they have taken the Lord”) likely refers to the temple authorities (cf. chs. 18–19), Jesus’ opponents who now (possibly) have done something further to him. Mary’s use of the plural for herself (“and we don’t know where they have put him”) suggests that she is not alone but accompanied by other women (listed in the Synoptics). A woman would rarely venture out alone outside the city walls in the dark under such circumstances.5
Peter and the Beloved Disciple6 immediately sprint to the tomb to see what has happened (20:4–5). While Peter departs first, the other disciple arrives first. What follows is an unusual description comparing the two men and their examination of the tomb. The Beloved Disciple arrives first, does not enter, and sees the burial clothes. Peter arrives second, steps into the tomb, and sees the burial clothes in greater detail. Then the other disciple enters, and when he sees everything alongside Peter, he “believes.” Oddly the story is silent about the faith of Peter.
John’s description of the clothes includes some unexpected details. The wrapping garment (Gk. othonion) is the same as that mentioned in 19:40. Likewise the facial cloth (a type of handkerchief) was a detail mentioned in the Lazarus story (11:44).7 Such small cloths were apparently wrapped under the chin and tied on the top of the head (to keep the mouth from falling open). Hence when John says that the napkin is “rolled up,” it is likely in an oval loop, as it was during the burial. These items are “lying there”—implying that they are resting in the location where Jesus has laid. From the description of 20:7 it appears that the clothing is lying flat, in contrast to the facial napkin rolled and set to one side.
The scene, then, is not chaotic or confused. Rather, something purposeful has transpired here. If someone had simply stolen Jesus’ body, surely the clothes would be missing, or at least strewn about the floor. But here is a scene in which the body is missing but the clothes appear undisturbed. Jesus’ body has simply left them behind. We can also assume that a significant collection of burial spices rests nearby the clothes (see 19:40).
When the Beloved Disciple enters, what does he “believe” (20:8b)? This is difficult on a number of counts. According to verse 9 they do not know the Scripture concerning Jesus’ resurrection from death. How then can John believe? If we read this account without reference to the resurrection, the most obvious meaning is that the disciple believes Mary’s word in 20:2 that Jesus is missing. But this solution seems far too obvious since throughout the Gospel, this disciple is the one who demonstrates faith not simply in what he sees, but in Jesus and God’s power at work in him. Elsewhere in the Gospel any absolute use of the verb “to believe” indicates a robust, complete faith in Christ (cf. 5:44; 6:47). The empty tomb is akin to one of the signs in the Gospel that Jesus calls his followers to believe (4:48). Beneath the surface of what the eye can see is a significance, a meaning that demands faith.
The Beloved Disciple has penetrated the deeper meaning of this empty tomb despite the fact that he does not yet grasp the larger biblical and theological context in which these things are taking place (20:9). “They still did not understand the Scripture” (italics added) means that eventually all will become clear in their thinking. This insight is similar to the Emmaus story told in Luke 24:13–35. Following the revelation of Jesus’ person, the disciples’ minds nevertheless need to be opened for them to grasp the larger picture of what this resurrection means. Hence the Beloved Disciple believes that Jesus is now alive—but as yet he does not know the scriptural and theological undergirding that have made this resurrection inevitable.
Luke notes the tragedy that when the women at the tomb report their experiences to the disciples, the men are incredulous (“their words seemed to them like nonsense,” Luke 24:11). John notes how Mary alone experiences the first and most profound moment with the resurrected Jesus once the two disciples have departed for home (John 20:11–18). Mary of Magdala is hardly in Jesus’ inner circle when compared with the apostles; yet angels who refuse to appear to the two men now unveil themselves to her as she examines the tomb. Each of the Gospels refers to angels present at (or in) the tomb; here Mary’s worries are assuaged by their words. They do not solve the riddle of Jesus’ disappearance but by their question (“Woman, why are you crying?”) they suggest that sorrow is not what the present moment requires.
But it is their presence that is telling. It has not been robbers who removed the body. Rather, what has happened here stems from God’s power. The scene buttresses once more that the tomb is evidence that Jesus is not dead—but it also interprets it, saying, in effect, that we are seeing divine involvement that validates the truth of Jesus (not unlike Peter’s explanation in Acts 2:32: “God has raised this Jesus to life, and we are all witnesses of the fact”).
The solution for Mary’s deeper grief will only come when she sees Jesus personally. Since she has only stooped in to look at the tomb (20:11b), she hears someone approach from behind and suddenly meets a man, whom she concludes must be the caretaker of the garden surrounding the tomb (20:14). He repeats the angels’ words (“Woman, why are you crying?”) but deflects the question to a more profound level: “Who is it you are looking for?” Her conclusion that perhaps this man has moved Jesus’ body since he is the gardener indicates that she has not heard the man standing before her. Her mind remains on the problem of the tomb, while Jesus is trying to lift her to something else. Jesus’ question points her in another direction. The reality of meeting him is more important than the riddle of the tomb. The tomb is now history, it is a cave to be disregarded (as it was among the earliest Christians), and only the living Jesus matters.
When Jesus utters Mary’s name (20:16), at once she recognizes him and in her joy she uses the familiar Hebrew title “Rabboni” (which John translates for us as “Teacher”). Jesus’ mild rebuke in 20:17 (“Do not hold on to me”) implies that Mary has embraced him.8 But it is Jesus’ explanation that has led to enormous confusion among interpreters. Jesus tells Mary not to hold him because he has not yet ascended to the Father (20:17a) but then directs her to go and tell his disciples that he is presently ascending to the Father (20:17b).
This means that the final step of “the hour” is advancing. Jesus’ betrayal, trial, crucifixion, and resurrection are complete, and now all that remains is for him to return to the place from which he descended (17:5). But before he does so, Jesus must honor one more promise mentioned throughout his Farewell Discourse. In order that his followers will not be left desolate or orphaned (14:18), he will distribute to them the Holy Spirit as his parting gift.
The crux in the present section centers on Jesus’ initial correction to Mary’s embrace. Why does Jesus prohibit Mary from touching him? Some commentators offer solutions that are as ingenious as they are hard to believe. (1) Some suggest that Jesus prohibits a literal touching. But this can hardly be the case since later Thomas is invited to do this very thing (20:26–29). And it is not convincing to argue that Jesus’ wounds are sore or that he is kindly warning her about the ritual defilement that could come to her for touching a dead body. The resurrection itself eliminates such possibilities. Some have suggested that Jesus is ascending as a priest and so must remain “unstained and separated” (Heb. 7:26) for his tasks. But no place in the Gospel does Jesus ever fear such contact.9
(2) Other scholars attempt to alter Jesus’ words. The Greek phrase “do not hold on to me” is me mou haptou. If a scribe misread an original me ptou, Jesus would be saying “do not fear.” Others wonder if the negative adverb is an addition and Jesus really said, mou haptou, “Touch me!” This would make Mary’s invitation parallel to that of Thomas in 20:27. But corrections to any text should be made with extreme caution; in this case we have no warrant for it.
(3) Incredibly, Bultmann once argued that John’s theological perspective on the resurrection is disguised here. Mary should not touch Jesus because he did not have a resurrection body. Unfortunately this contradicts all the evidence of the chapter.
(4) The best solution is to see the prohibition as a theological or spiritual commentary about Jesus’ transformed relationship with Mary. Mary sees Jesus, and we are at once reminded of the farewell promise in 14:18–19. Before long, they would see him and rejoice. When Mary leaves this scene, she brings this very report back to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord!” (20:18). Mary is thinking that the resurrection of Jesus is Jesus’ resumption of normal relations with his disciples. Mary’s words remind us of what Jesus had said in 16:22, “I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy.” Mary is trying to hold on to the joy she now discovers in her resurrected Lord. In telling her not to hold on, Jesus is saying that his permanent “return” and presence must come in another form. She cannot embrace what she finds in the garden. Things are going to change. Jesus’ correction is a spiritual redirection away from Jesus’ physical presence, a preparation for the Spirit that is about to be given.
We find this same theme in chapter 16. The coming of Jesus is on one level discovered within the resurrection—but it will also be discovered in a deeper manner in the coming of the Spirit-Paraclete (which is the coming of Jesus in yet a new form). The “not yet” of 20:17 thus matches the “not yet” of 7:39: “Up to that time the Spirit had not been given, since Jesus had not yet been glorified.” The coming of the Spirit is still future (20:22), and this will be the momentous gift that will return Jesus to them permanently. Therefore the story with Mary can be seen as an interpretative vehicle to stress the transition now underway in Jesus’ life and in his relationship with each of his disciples. Mary is then charged to ready Jesus’ disciples for his “coming,” namely, his coming both in body (in the Upper Room) but more profoundly, his “coming” in the Holy Spirit.
Jesus underscores this change in relationship by pointing to his departure: “for I have not yet returned to the Father.” But it should be read to imply that she is impeding his departure or interfering with his plans by embracing him. The Greek sentence can easily be translated: “Do not cling to me. Since [Gk. gar] I have not yet ascended to the Father, go to my brothers and tell them that I am ascending. . . .”10 Jesus’ imminent departure is the basis for the mission to go to the disciples—not merely the reason for her to release Jesus. He wants to see them before he goes. Therefore Mary becomes a courier of news for the second time (20:18). She alone is the bearer of the report not only that the tomb was empty (20:2) but also that the resurrected Jesus has come and she has “seen” him, thus fulfilling Jesus’ promise in 16:19–22: “In a little while you will see me no more, and then after a little while you will see me” (italics added).
Jesus and the Upper Room (20:19–23)
IN AN IMPORTANT parallel passage, Luke 24:33–43 describes how the followers of Jesus remained in Jerusalem and did not return immediately to Galilee. Here Jesus appeared to them unexpectedly; they were frightened, and their doubts only disappeared when Jesus provided evidence to them by displaying his wounds and eating a meal.
John builds the same scene but with important differences. It is the evening of this Easter Sunday (20:19) and the doors are shut (or as the NIV paraphrases, the doors are “locked”). Fear has gripped their hearts and they no doubt conclude that the tragic fate of Jesus may soon be theirs. The temple authorities (Gk. “the Jews”) will find them and arrest them too. But instead Jesus “comes” to them and stands in their midst. No doubt this appearance is miraculous since John has just told us that the doors were shut tight. But we can hardly speculate how he has materialized among them.
His words “peace be with you” (repeated in 20:19 and 21) were a standard Hebrew greeting (Judg. 6:23; 19:20; 1 Sam. 25:6; 3 John 1:14), still used in the Middle East today. But here these words are far more than a greeting. At a profoundly personal level, Jesus is summing up the essence of his work and presence in the world. Peace is the gift of his kingdom. In 14:27 and 16:33 Jesus promised that this peace would be his gift to them; now he has delivered it.
The disciples’ response (20:20) to his appearance—after they see the evidence of his wounds—is likewise a fulfillment of what was promised. “I tell you the truth, you will weep and mourn while the world rejoices. You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy. . . . Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy” (16:20–22, italics added). Once they see Jesus in this room, the disciples are filled with joy.11
Throughout this Gospel Jesus has been described as the One who was sent by God (e.g., 4:3; 5:23; 6:38). Now with his work nearly completed, his final task is to commission his followers as he was commissioned by the Father. Thus as Jesus was God’s special representative (or agent) in the world, so too his disciples become Jesus’ agents, working in the world and witnessing to the reality of God and the truth of Jesus’ words.
But in this Gospel one feature of Jesus’ commission is his empowering. God not only sent his Son but also empowered him with the Spirit. For example, in Jesus’ baptism the central event (from John’s view) was not the water baptism itself, but the anointing in the Spirit that came to Jesus. Our first introduction of Jesus came from the prophetic words of John the Baptist, whom God had told, “The man on whom you see the Spirit come down and remain is he who will baptize with the Holy Spirit” (1:33).
This image is reinforced in many ways. In 3:34 Jesus is known as the one person whom God has given the Spirit without measure (cf. 6:27). Above all, Jesus is described as the One in whom the Spirit flows like a living spring, a source of life and refreshment and renewal that will be offered following his glorification (4:15; 7:37–39; 19:30, 34). Therefore to be commissioned (20:21), to advance the work of God as God’s agent, means being empowered as Jesus was empowered—obtaining the Spirit, just as Jesus was anointed and as Jesus promised.
Thus John 20:22 becomes the climax to the entire Gospel. The Spirit—suggested throughout his public ministry, promised in the Upper Room, and symbolized at the cross—is now given to the disciples in a provocative and personal way. Jesus breathes (on them) and says, “Receive [the] Holy Spirit.”12 John 20:22 fulfills the word given at the Feast of Tabernacles, where Jesus’ offer of living water referred to the Holy Spirit, which could not be distributed until Jesus was glorified (7:39). Now the hour of glorification has reached its climax. Jesus is departing, and he places the Spirit that is within him in their lives.
This passage is one of the most controversial in the Gospel.13 While every interpreter must come to terms with the theological meaning of the Easter anointing for John’s narrative, many try to discern the relationship of this anointing to the giving of the Spirit in Acts 2. Three exegetical positions are common.
(1) A symbol. For some, the account in John 20 recounts a symbolic gesture much like Jesus’ many signs in the Gospel. The disciples did not receive the Spirit, but were offered a symbol of what it would be like. While this provides a convenient harmony with Acts 2 (the only giving of the Spirit then takes place on Pentecost), it fails to permit the anointing to be a determinative event for John. Jesus’ breathing recalls the Greek text of Genesis 2:7, when God made Adam (cf. Ezek. 37:5–14).14 Jesus is recreating what sin had ruined in the Garden of Eden. Moreover, the imperative language (“receive”) of John 20:22 points directly to the promise of 14:17 and suggests an experience that will come immediately (as in 19:26–27; 20:27). The world cannot receive the Spirit, but Jesus’ followers will.15
(2) A partial anointing. In order to reconcile this with Acts 2, others have wondered if the disciples experienced an anointing in the Spirit that prepared them for the fuller gift given seven weeks later. This view has the merit of viewing the anointing of John 20 as a real event. But what sort of event was it? This position argues that the anointing was a partial gift of the Spirit, but not the complete giving of the Spirit-Paraclete promised in the Farewell Discourse. They note that the Paraclete promises are highly personal while this gift of the Spirit seems strangely impersonal.16 (a) Perhaps this is an “ordination gift,” equipping these disciples for the work of ministry. The surrounding verses (20:21, 23) point to the disciples’ mission to the world. (b) Perhaps this gift refers to the power of life and conversion. In 6:63 life and Spirit are directly associated and here perhaps we should see this as the conversion of Jesus’ followers, where they are “saved” and embrace Jesus in his full messianic identity. (c) Perhaps the physical presence of Jesus disqualifies 20:22 as describing the awaited gift of the Spirit. Jesus’ glorification (7:39) and departure (16:7) are prerequisites for this gift. Therefore in John’s mind, this is a genuine gift of the Spirit that will be completed at Pentecost later. As one interpreter puts it, this is an embryonic Paraclete, given in advance of Jesus’ ascension.
(3) A genuine anointing. The crux of the issue is that John does not anticipate another gift of the Spirit. He gives no hint of something to come, and if we did not possess the narrative of Acts, we would easily conclude that John 20 fulfills all of Jesus’ promises. At the same time, Luke provides no hint that another giving of the Spirit occurred on Easter. He points forward to one giving on Pentecost, following Jesus’ ascension. This has led many scholars to conclude that within John’s theological perspective, John 20:22 is indeed the moment when the disciples were anointed with the Spirit. The language of the chapter closely links promises in chapters 14–16 and bears every feature of a genuine event. Moreover, the phrase used by Jesus (“receive Holy Spirit”) may well have been an easily recognized formula used by the early Christians for the gift of the Spirit.17
This view (which is compelling) urges that John 20 not be held hostage by Acts 2, but that we see this gift of the Spirit as a genuine transforming experience on Easter Sunday. John’s Gospel sustains a consistent expectation of fulfillment (eschatological fulfillment), and any interpretation that robs this Gospel of this element seriously misrepresents its theology. The time in which the resurrected Jesus lived among his followers was no doubt a period of remarkable spiritual experiences. To be with him and to understand him, to see him as he truly was, required a gift of God’s Spirit (as Luke knows well, Luke 24:13–35). I believe the disciples experienced numerous moments of overwhelming glory as the Spirit touched and transformed them—and it all began the moment Jesus returned on Easter. That they would be empowered again, in a different way, on Pentecost does not eliminate the possibility that they were filled earlier.
The gift of the Spirit is framed with two messages outlining aspects of the church’s work in the world. In 20:21 we observed how the disciples will enjoy a mission that parallels the mission of Jesus (cf. 17:18a). And in 20:23 Jesus points to their ability to forgive sin (no doubt as a part of that mission). It is inevitable that to understand this verse we should look at the close parallels in Matthew 16:19 and 18:18, where during the course of his ministry, Jesus similarly empowered his followers (cf. Luke 24:47). These verses have led to considerable division in the church. Is Jesus giving all of his followers (surely more than the apostles are present) this power? Or is this an office reserved for the leaders, the apostles—and so the leadership and bishops, the apostolic successors in later centuries? Raymond Brown spells out the tumultuous history of these interpretations, which will sober any eager exegete.18
The Protestant view has pointed to the more generic ministry of the church, in particular to the work of baptizing and making disciples (which is also a part of Jesus’ resurrection commission, Matt. 28:19; Mark 16:16). When John describes the work of Jesus, he likewise places in tension salvation and judgment. Jesus has entered the world to save humankind (John 3:16–17), but for those who reject this salvation, who spurn his revelation, there remains the prospect of blindness and judgment (9:39).
Thus the death of Jesus spells the salvation of the world, but also the judgment of the world. As the “hour” arrives, the hour that saves the world, Jesus says, “Now is the time for judgment on this world” (12:31). In a similar manner, Christians who bear Christ’s Spirit, who continue his efforts in the world, sustain his judging/saving work through their proclamation. Pointing to what God has disclosed in Christ, unveiling divine light in darkness, the prospect of judgment and salvation is suddenly placed before every man and woman. Christians do not distribute forgiveness on a whim (or retain the sins of any). As Jesus’ life was a divine response of the Father’s prompting (14:31), similarly Christians can do nothing except what Jesus-in-Spirit prompts them to do (15:5). Their life likewise must be a response to what Jesus is prompting through his Spirit in the world.
Thomas and Jesus (20:24–29)
WE MET THOMAS already earlier in the Gospel. In 11:16 he committed himself to following Jesus even though it meant he might die. It was a loyal (though pessimistic) sentiment. In 14:5 he readily admitted his ignorance of Jesus’ words as the Lord described his departure. In this final episode Thomas is absent when Jesus reveals himself to his disciples in Jerusalem on Easter Sunday (20:24). Upon hearing their assertion that Jesus has been resurrected (“We have seen the Lord,” cf. 20:18, 20) and that he has visited them, Thomas remains skeptical and obstinate. He demands evidence (20:25). This demand reminds us of the Capernaum official in 4:48, “ ‘Unless you people see miraculous signs and wonders,’ Jesus told him, ‘you will never believe.’ ” There too we found people who demanded hard proof before they would trust Jesus in faith.
The following account takes pains to show us that Thomas’s experience is very much like that of the other disciples. Once again it is the day after the Sabbath (20:26a), that is, Sunday one week later.19 Again the disciples are in a room with the doors shut, and Jesus appears to them and greets them. All of this carefully duplicates what transpired on Easter Sunday (20:19–23).
Jesus has heard Thomas’ challenge in 20:25. The evidence he demands—to see and touch Jesus’ wounds—is now provided (20:26).20 Not only can Thomas see that Jesus is alive, but in addition he can touch the mark of the nails and the wound of the spear. John does not say whether Thomas acts on Jesus’ invitation; in 20:29 it is Thomas’s seeing that is credited with his faith.21 John gives no information concerning the nature of Jesus’ wounds. Have they healed? Are they painful? To consider that he is still suffering or is in mortal danger is to misunderstand the power and character of his resurrection.
Jesus’ exhortation, “Stop doubting and believe,” has a fine rhythm in Greek: (lit.) “Do not become unbelieving [apistos] but believing [pistos]” (20:27). Thomas is being challenged to change, to become like the others who, upon seeing Jesus, embrace him with faith. His response, “My Lord and my God!” (20:28), is not a word of astonishment or praise to God. It is a confession of Thomas’s heartfelt belief in Jesus. Thus we learn that “the most outrageous doubter of the resurrection of Jesus utters the greatest confession of the Lord who rose from the dead.”22
These words supply the closing frame of the Gospel, matching the high and lofty descriptions of Christ the Word in 1:1–18. As the gospel comes to its close, no more explicit identification of Jesus can be imagined. In Revelation 4:11 the elders fall before the throne of God with a similar word of praise: “You are worthy, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power, for you created all things, and by your will they were created and have their being.”23
But the climax of the passage comes in 20:29. The first half of the verse is a statement (KJV, NEB, NIV), not a question (RSV, NRSV). Jesus does not disparage the faith of Thomas (“So now you believe because you see me?”) but simply cites a fact (“Because you have seen me, you have believed”). Thomas’s faith is anchored to sight. Then Jesus goes on to utter a blessing not on those who see and believe—which is certainly a virtue paraded throughout the chapters of the Gospel. Rather, he offers a blessing on those who believe but have not seen. Here Jesus points forward beyond Thomas, beyond the apostolic circle, to the world of the church, to believers who come to faith through the testimony of the apostles. Juxtaposed in these verses are faith based on sight and faith based on the word of those who testify. Thomas’s faith is not necessarily blemished because of his need for sight; it is simply privileged, for few would ever have the gift of what these disciples have experienced.
Jesus has in mind people (such as ourselves) who are now reading this Gospel and have not had Thomas’s opportunity to touch Jesus’ wounds. There can be no more remarkable privilege. But John has provided us with a record of signs—his Gospel (20:31)—that can serve us in a similar capacity. While not doing what Thomas did, we have his story, and this should give us a reasonable ground for belief.
Conclusion (20:30–31)
FOR MANY SCHOLARS these verses constitute the conclusion of John’s Gospel.24 John acknowledges that Jesus provided many other signs with his disciples and that the selection offered here in his Gospel is a mere collection (20:30). This means that John is aware of a rich source of traditions about Jesus and that he, as an editor, has had to make a careful selection to suit his own literary needs.
In 20:31 John discloses his purpose for writing the Gospel. Belief leads to life, and this life is a gift given through the power of Jesus Christ, God’s Son. But in what sense is John hoping to call forward belief? Oddly enough, different manuscripts record two different spellings for “believe,” and the difference may be important. (1) The verb may be an “aorist subjunctive” (pisteusēte), or (2) it may be a “present subjunctive” (pisteuēte); a simple Greek “s” (sigma) separates them.
It is amazing how much exegetical energy has been spent divining the difference this makes for the Gospel. The tense of the aorist subjunctive verb suggests that John is writing in order to bring people to faith (“that you come to believe”), while the present subjunctive implies John is taking Christians deeper into their faith (“that you may continue believing”). The first points to evangelism, the second to encouragement. Manuscript evidence cannot decide the issue. While the bulk of the evidence supports the aorist (or first option given), the present tense is attested by important witnesses and cannot be dismissed.25
Many scholars doubt if we can press such a fine grammatical distinction on this verb. The purpose of John’s Gospel must be studied with a wider view, one that looks at the design of his writing and the assumptions he holds for his readers. If we do this, it appears that John assumes that his readers know at least the rudimentary things of Jesus’ life and thought. They may even have read one of the Synoptic Gospels.26 We see this in our use of John’s Gospel today. It is the beloved gospel of Christians; it is “the spiritual gospel,” which mature believers can study in order to gain insights into Jesus Christ. A quick glance at John’s Farewell Discourse (chs. 14–16) shows us how Jesus prepares his followers for life as believers in the world following his death.
But this is hardly to say that it is not a useful or beneficial Gospel for those who possess no belief. Frequently the issues of faith and doubt that trouble the unbeliever are the same as those that burden the Christian. John’s Gospel serves both audiences with perhaps the clearest, most poignant explanation of Jesus and his mission in the world. John writes to strengthen faith, and it makes no difference what might be your starting point.
Bridging Contexts
THIS CHAPTER CONCENTRATES a number of vital theological themes within its thirty-one short verses, and each deserves careful attention. John has come to the end of the story about Jesus’ public ministry. From the day Jesus was baptized by the Baptist, John’s perspective on Jesus was not just descriptive. Jesus was the Son of God bearing promises for his followers. This is Jesus, who is not merely baptized but who will baptize his followers in the Holy Spirit (1:33). He will tear down the temple of his body and raise it again (2:19). He will offer rebirth (3:3) and living water (4:10) and even his own flesh for the life of the world (6:51). This is not merely a shepherd who takes care of his sheep; this is a shepherd who lays it down only to take it up again (10:17).
The Gospel’s story continually points forward to promises described mysteriously in its narrative, awaited as the climactic scenes in Jerusalem unfold. Again and again, we are pointed to “the hour,” the culmination of Jesus’ mission in the world, when through his death, his resurrection, and his return to the Father, his followers are transformed by all of those promises suggested in virtually every story. Typically the Lazarus story of chapter 11 is about one dead man, surrounded by his grieving friends and family. But the story is more. It is about the Master of life and resurrection, who not only pulls Lazarus from the tomb but foreshadows by this deed his own tomb, his own resurrection, his own shocking recovery from death.
John 20 is thus the denouement of John’s story to which every other story points. Here the mysteries of plot and promise are unraveled. This is the final resolution of the play, in which the main character, Jesus, steps to the center and discloses all.27
Four examples of faith. Not only does Jesus disclose and supply all that the previous chapters have promised, but we observe four examples of faith, four different scenes that offer to us responses to Jesus from his disciples as they experience the reality of their risen Lord.
(1) Peter and the Beloved Disciple race to the tomb. Although the risen Jesus is not seen, they see the evidence of his resurrection and the Beloved Disciple chooses to believe.
(2) Mary meets a man who utters her name, and she recognizes him to be Jesus. “I have seen the Lord” is her report, which echoes promises given by Jesus in his farewell.
(3) The disciples are huddled in the Upper Room. They not only see evidence of the resurrection, they see Jesus, hear him, and receive the Spirit. Episode builds on episode, and we wonder what more could be expected!
(4) In the final scene, we meet Thomas, a man no different from us. He is a man for whom faith will only be a reality when the concrete evidence of resurrection is provided to him. He possesses no experience at an empty tomb, nor has he heard or seen Jesus. Thus, faith seems for him daunting and impossible. Thomas becomes a template for us, who read the story of Jesus from a distance. We hear the report, we read John’s Gospel, and at once we are challenged to believe. Thomas obtains what he desires and so believes, but he misses the blessing that Jesus pronounces on those who believe even though they cannot touch Jesus’ wounds. This is precisely our position as we live out our lives and our faith in the modern world.
Theological building blocks. Together these four stories supply us with the primary theological building blocks that lie at the center of John’s thought in this chapter. Discerning these will unlock the theological heart of John’s message. Three themes deserve our attention.
(1) John is telling us about the reality of the resurrection. Threaded through each story is some aspect of the power and certainty of Jesus’ life from death. This is no illusion, no vision or fantasy that serves to inspire the disciples in the midst of their distress following Good Friday. The tomb was empty. Peter and John run to the cave, examine the evidence, and step away stunned and hopeful. Likewise, when Mary meets with Jesus he is no phantom, but a genuine man—truly transformed no doubt—but genuinely a man who speaks and listens and can be embraced. In the Upper Room, when Jesus introduces himself (20:20), he immediately offers proof that he is no ghost but the same man who hung on the cross, a physical man, a man with wounds so real that soon Thomas will be invited to touch them.
For John, the reality of the resurrection plays a critical role in validating the truth of Jesus Christ. The resurrection proves the assertion of 11:25. If Jesus is the resurrection and the life, his own capacity to step from the grave becomes the first evidence that proves him right. When John thinks about the Jesus he proclaims, the Jesus embraced in faith in his churches, he writes with a telling reminder of this reality. Listen to the opening words of his first letter (1 John 1:1–2):
That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked at and our hands have touched—this we proclaim concerning the Word of life. The life appeared; we have seen it and testify to it, and we proclaim to you the eternal life, which was with the Father and has appeared to us. (italics added)
It is likely true that John is not referring to the resurrection visit of Jesus exclusively in these verses. But he is referring to the concrete reality of Jesus that the resurrection could not diminish. The reality of Jesus burned itself into the consciousness of John, and he would never forget it. This reality was no different after Easter. The resurrected Jesus was a historical reality not unlike any other historical datum and needed to be a part of everyone’s faith. In a similar manner it is critical for us today in the modern world to probe our own understanding of this resurrection. One of the remarkable developments in so much of modern theology is the attempt to affirm the value of Jesus for Christian faith while all along discarding the historicity of the resurrection. We need to explore this.
(2) John is also telling us about the resurrected Jesus and how disciples should perceive their relationship with him. As I urged in my exegesis, John 20 is a fulfillment of all the promises offered in the Farewell Discourse of chapters 14–16, in which Jesus spoke of his return and his indwelling through the power of the Holy Spirit.
John’s endearing story about Mary is a correction to those disciples (like Mary) who think that the resurrection points to a resumption of Jesus’ physical presence with them. On the contrary, Jesus is being glorified; his presence with his followers must change. Mary cannot “hold on” to the way Jesus has lived and worked with them but must instead rethink the nature of intimacy with Jesus. It will be a new intimacy, a spiritual intimacy, realized in the coming of the Holy Spirit, which is fulfilled in the next episode in the Upper Room.
The gift given in the Upper Room can be seen as the satisfaction of what Mary longs for in the garden. Jesus desires to enter his disciples’ lives, to indwell them completely, to provide them with his Spirit (symbolized through his breath), in order to fulfill the hope he offered three days earlier. In 1 John the author tries to explain that which gives Christians an identity and a power that sets them apart from the world. He writes, “We know that we live in him and he in us, because he has given us of his Spirit” (1 John 4:13, italics added). The Holy Spirit is Jesus’ Spirit; it is the powerful presence of Christ within his friends. We need to explore what this emphasis means for us and what possibilities it offers for Christian experience today.
(3) John 20 has much to tell us about faith. This should come as no surprise since John tells us at the end of these verses that promoting faith has been his aim from the beginning of the Gospel: “These are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name” (20:31).
In this climactic chapter we have stories of faith and a catalogue of experiences that are each unique. Peter and John possess the evidence of the tomb; Mary enjoys the “evidence” of an encounter. The apostles (along with others) finally experience the Spirit. But the spotlight is on Thomas. He refuses to believe (20:25) until his “evidence” matches theirs. When he is given an objective basis for believing (20:27), Jesus recognizes his faith (20:29) but indicates that the demand for such evidence will not be met for everyone. Those who are truly blessed are men and women who believe but are not like Thomas in that they do not make faith contingent on such physical demands.
This does not, of course, present an easy assignment for us who live outside the apostolic era. Should faith be based on some objective criteria? If so, where do we go for it? Or is faith an inner experience of hope and resolve unrelated to objective realities? Is faith entirely experiential and affective, an inner-emotional or psychological decision shaping how we live and think, but not anchored to specific events in history (such as a tomb)?
This theme also appears in John’s letters, where John gives marked attention to the subject of faith (the “faith” word group appears twenty-one times) and supplies one of the chief themes of his letters. “Everyone who believes that Jesus is the Christ is born of God, and everyone who loves the father loves his child as well” (1 John 5:1). So what is the character of faith? We must explore this theme as well in order to bring John’s thoughts into the modern world.
Contemporary Significance
THE RESURRECTION, THE Spirit, and faith! What three themes could be more central to the Christian life? To John’s mind the maturing Christian must have a well-reasoned appreciation of what these things mean. Each theme links directly to John’s Christology, making Jesus himself the center of our discipleship. The resurrection validates Jesus’ identity as the Son of God, the divine messenger bringing us truth and grace from God. The Spirit is the indwelling of Jesus-in-Spirit within his disciples, making them his messengers so that like him they will convey to the world God’s grace and truth. They (like Jesus) now echo what they “hear and see” because like Jesus, God’s Spirit is in them. Faith defines how we live out our lives in the world under the promises and the empowering of God. It supplies us with confidence and hope so that we will not compromise our commitment to Christ despite what we experience in the world.
The truth of the resurrection. In October 1994 Moody Memorial Church in Chicago hosted a lively and important debate between two scholars with very different views of the resurrection. Moderated by the syndicated columnist William F. Buckley Jr., the debate invited William Lane Craig of Talbot School of Theology (Los Angeles) and John Dominic Crossan of DePaul University (Chicago) to contend for the historicity of the person of Jesus in the Gospels.
Buckley opened the evening with a citation from that great New Testament scholar (the late) George Ladd and set the agenda:
The uniqueness of the scandal of the Christian religion rests on the mediation of revelation through historical events. Christianity is not just a code for living or a philosophy of religion. It is rooted in real events of history. To some people this is scandalous because it means that the truth of Christianity is inexplicably bound up with the truth of certain historical facts. And if those facts should be disproved, Christianity would be false. This, however, is what makes Christianity unique because, unlike other world religions, modern man has a means of actually verifying Christianity’s truth by historical evidence.28
Buckley rightly saw the importance of this quote because it underscores what became the heart of the debate. Are historical events important to Christianity? Can divine events in history be defended? If one of Christianity’s chief claims—the resurrection of Jesus—proves to be unhistorical, what happens to our faith?
As the debate unfolded, it is remarkable how quickly the historicity of Jesus turned to the historicity of the resurrection of Jesus. For Crossan the resurrection is a metaphor but not an historical fact. Metaphors bear truth, he claimed, but that does not mean that they must be based on real things happening in history. The Christian notion of the resurrection of Jesus may have come from visions or hallucinations or from beliefs springing from reading the Scriptures, but not from evidence in history.29 Craig’s response reconfirmed his interest and expertise in the resurrection as a defensible historical fact.30 But what Craig effectively uncovered is that for Crossan, the absence of an historical resurrection makes no difference to his understanding of Christianity.
This debate has increased its intensity over the years. A colleague of Crossan, New Testament scholar Marcus Borg, has likewise led a campaign both in writing and in personal appearances, forcing Christians to rethink the historicity of Jesus.31 For him, the resurrection simply does not matter. The physicality of Jesus’ resurrection body is simply a myth conjured up by Jesus’ later followers. Opposed to this has stood N. T. Wright, a British New Testament scholar who has engaged Borg in numerous public debates and recently published a volume in which the two scholars confront each other’s views blow-by-blow.32
Perhaps the chief concern for us is that we understand what is at issue in this debate. Our defense of the historicity of Jesus and his resurrection does not depend in the first instance on our commitment to the reliability of the Bible. Something more fundamental is at stake. For the last three hundred years theologians and philosophers have debated the relationship between history and theology (or revelation).33 The New Testament story about Jesus, it is claimed, presents us with a mythological portrait that has little to do with genuine fact. Once Jesus was believed to be the Messiah, pious but misdirected devotion created myths and legends about him. As the supernaturalism of the Gospels was expunged, the resurrection fell as one of the first victims.
The scholars who line up here insist that objective historical facts are inaccessible to us (since historical records never give us unvarnished accounts of what happened), but they also claim such facts are theologically unimportant. True faith does not rest on the reliability of events in history. As one scholar put it, “Accidental truths of history can never become the proof of necessary truths of reason.”34 For these scholars, truth is pursued outside the arena of history—particularly in the domain of reason or personal experience—and religious research must work at peeling away layers of myth and superstition that have grown up in Christian thought since biblical times. Once this task is done, our job is then to locate the timeless truth that the mythological story was trying to convey. Listen to the words of Marcus Borg:
I now see Easter very differently. For me it is irrelevant whether or not the tomb was empty. Whether Easter involved something remarkable happening to the physical body of Jesus is irrelevant. My argument is not that we know the tomb was not empty or that nothing happened to his body, but simply that it doesn’t matter. The truth of Easter, as I see it, is not at stake in this issue.35
The reason that debates about the historicity of Jesus finally focus on his resurrection is that this one event, this one claim to history, becomes the most objectionable. Easter claims that divine events, such as the stupendous event of Jesus’ emerging alive from the tomb, happen in history. Easter claims that such events should not only be catalogued and studied as genuine events in history, but they can be viewed as a reliable basis for belief. We believe in a God who acts in history and those activities must be taken as serious disclosures of his revelation to humankind.
Increasingly New Testament scholars have conceded that this alleged divorce between theology and history is untenable. Such a belief will lead inevitably to a modern Gnosticism that possesses no objective, historic anchor.36 Scholars have made a case not only for the absolute necessity for history in Christian theology37 but for the reliability and surprising trustworthiness of the Gospels themselves.38 Those who (like Borg and Crossan) call for a Christianity void of history, a Christianity not anchored in divine events, represent an era of skepticism that is being rejected more and more. Their voices, though loud and well-publicized, hark back to an earlier era of skepticism that is at odds with the faith promoted by John.
John’s account of the resurrection is nothing if it is not a singular affirmation that true historical events happened on that Easter Sunday. This is the chief reason we are given so many details about the character of the empty tomb (the placement of the burial clothes) and the nature of Jesus’ resurrection body (his many wounds). John is trying to affirm the very thing Borg and Crossan deny: This Jesus is not a fantasy but a real man, a resurrected man who can talk and be touched despite the fact that he has been transformed by the power of his resurrection. Thomas steps into the drama (perhaps) as an ancient theological skeptic, arguing that divine events do not happen in history and he will not believe until he confirms the reality himself. Hence the Thomas episode is a dramatic gift for modern cynics.
We are invited—no, we are challenged—to believe like Thomas. Yet John understands perfectly well that we do not have the same opportunities. “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” This is why in the story of John 20 the Beloved Disciple becomes one of the most important figures. He looks into the tomb, sees the evidence, and believes (20:8). While not seeing the resurrected Jesus, he sees what has been left behind; he sees the remnants of divine activity in history in stone and fabric and decides to believe.
This is our situation today. John has provided us with the best evidence he can muster to persuade us that belief is not only a reasonable choice, but a necessary decision if we are going to follow Jesus. Jesus is not an idea whose ongoing validity finds a home in our ideas or our ethics. Jesus is a person—he is God incarnate in human history—and in coming into history, he has left marks that we can see and measure and trust. The resurrection is the capstone event in Jesus’ career, which demonstrates the reality of what has happened since the moment of his incarnation. Without the resurrection, the infrastructure of Christological thinking falls apart and Jesus becomes merely one more Jewish teacher with a series of good ideas.
Paul makes the same point in 1 Corinthians 15:14: “If Christ has not been raised, our preaching is useless and so is your faith.” No less than John Updike echoes the same in his poem “Seven Stanzas at Easter”:
Make no mistake: if He rose at all
it was as His body;
if the cells’ dissolution did not reverse,
the molecules reknit, the amino
acids rekindle,
the church will fall. . . .
Let us not mock God with metaphor,
Analogy, sidestepping transcendence;
Making of the event a parable, a sign
painted in the faded credulity of
earlier ages:
The stone is rolled back, not papier-mâché,
Not a stone in a story,
But the vast rock of materiality that in the slow
grinding of time will eclipse for each of us
The wide light of day. . . . 39
The centrality of the Spirit. One of the most famous paintings depicting the dramatic scene of Mary and Jesus in the garden appears on a medieval Italian fresco in Padua, Italy. Giotto di Bondini paints Jesus striding from his tomb, holding his right hand out, prohibiting a kneeling, pleading Mary from coming close. She stretches out both arms, yearning to reach him, but he walks away, keeping her at a distance with one arm and bearing a victor’s flag with the other. It is an unfortunate scene, and its influence on the interpretation of John 20 tragic. Jesus is aloof; he is leaving, and he cannot be held back by this woman. “Do not hold me” may well be the words on his lips.40
The picture of Mary in the garden is a prominent image in John 20. But its emphasis springs from ideas utterly missed by Bondini. This story works together with the Upper Room account that follows in order to speak to us about the dwelling and fellowship that Jesus is about to establish with his disciples. But other motifs, hidden in the story, prepare the way.
A number of biblical images suggest themselves in the story. People in the New Testament world knew the stories and metaphors of the Bible so well that they became a ready source for rich imagery. Allusions that may seem remote to us today may well have felt comfortable and obvious centuries ago. For instance, John alone tells us that these events took place in a garden—a garden filled with spices (19:39)—and this at once suggests the imagery of the Song of Songs (Song 1:3, 12; 3:6; 4:6, 10; 5:1, 13). Mary is a woman who finds the one she loves amidst a spice-filled garden and yearns to be with him, to embrace him.41 Therefore the setting points us toward intimacy and union, bliss and renewal.
Nor has John missed the symbolic importance of Mary’s name. Miriam was the most famous sister of Moses, who oversaw her little brother’s journey down the Nile. In an ancient Jewish synagogue at Dura Europos on the Euphrates a fresco depicts this scene carefully. The floating bed of Moses becomes a coffin and tomb from which the baby Moses is raised to life (thus avoiding death).42 Old Testament Miriam even becomes a prophet (Ex. 15:20–21; Num. 12:1–2) who bears a message to Israel. While John refers to Mary in the narrative with the Greek word Maria, when Jesus (the new Moses) meets her in 20:16, oddly, he employs the Hebrew form of the name: Miriam (Gk. Mariam, Heb. Miryam). He names her “Miriam Magdalene”—where Magdalene connotes the Hebrew noun migdal, “tower.” This caretaker of the new Moses, this intimate helper, is now transformed from a mere “Mary” into a Miriam, into a migdal that now bears a prophetic message to the apostles. Women rarely (if ever) enjoyed the status of courier or messenger, much less as legal witness for critical events. Mary’s commission to run and speak is a deep honoring that Jesus gives her alone.43
Moreover, some interpreters believe that John is consciously sweeping up numerous biblical motifs that connect with the theme of “garden.” If so, it is no accident that in 20:15, here in this garden, Mary misunderstands the identity of Jesus and thinks he is the gardener. Nicholas Wyatt, after showing the historical evidence in Judaism that placed the Garden of Eden in the Holy Land, goes on to show how motifs from the Eden story reappear in numerous literatures of the period. If this imagery is at work (and here many would caution us44), in this story we are viewing a woman in “Paradise” meeting the ruler of the Garden himself, Jesus.45
Therefore the composite that emerges from the story is not that of Giotto di Bondini, where Mary is pushed away. Rather, it is an intimate scene that evokes feelings of personal care and desire. A woman in a garden replete with spices looking for her master is a potent biblical image. Mary’s desires, however, must be suspended. She cannot “hold on” to the relationship with Jesus that characterized his earlier life. She must be the courier of another message. Jesus has not abandoned his friends but is coming to them. When he does, he will show them the sort of interior life he desires to take up with them.
This is why for the present theme Jesus’ appearance in the Upper Room takes center stage. His arrival fulfills many of the promises held out in his earlier farewell (see comments in Original Meaning). Above all, his arrival comes with a gift. He breathes on them, giving them “Holy Spirit.” This “master of the garden” now breathes into his followers, transforming their lives, and we cannot doubt that John finds echoes here of God’s great creative work in Genesis 2. In that ancient story another garden saw divine breath enter a man and life enter the world. Now a new gardener, God’s Son, does the same.
In 1 John 4:13 John writes that one feature of our assurance in Christ is in his gift of the Spirit. “By this we know that we abide in him and he in us, because he has given us of his own Spirit” (RSV, italics added). This is no impersonal spirit; this is no ambiguous inspiration from God. This is Jesus himself indwelling his disciples, taking up the residence promised in 14:23. Jesus desires intimacy with Mary and his followers, but the vehicle of that intimacy will now be experienced through the agency of the Holy Spirit. The reason that the work of the Spirit in John 14–16 is so highly personal is that this Spirit is the Spirit of Jesus—his own Spirit—that is now poured out at the hour of glorification. The intimacy of the garden scene is now satisfied. Mary’s yearnings are met. Jesus will be within her in a way she could not formerly comprehend.
This careful union of Christ and Spirit in John makes an important theological point. Discipleship is defined not only by belief in Jesus but by the indwelling of the Son through the Spirit. Some theological traditions separate Jesus and the Spirit, urging that to accept Christ as Savior is one matter and receiving the Holy Spirit is a second, necessary experience. But this is an unacceptable division in John. To receive Christ is to obtain the Spirit; to be filled by the Holy Spirit is to experience the living presence of Jesus Christ within. Christian transformation is Christ at work within us, bringing about his glory in our Spirit-led renewal (Col. 1:27).
Other theological traditions, particularly in the evangelical community, create yet another theological problem by making the Spirit disappear into Christology. For these Christians the chief evidence of the Spirit is found in conversion and sanctification. To believe in Jesus is the hallmark of the disciple, but little is said about the more mysterious and mystical work of the Spirit. Personal conviction is the premier evidence of the presence of God, but little is said of his power. For those in this tradition, John would have us recover something of the depth and the power of God’s Spirit today in ways that may even make us uncomfortable. John’s own church was certainly “pneumatic” (or what we today might call charismatic). The evidence of his letters (and his emphasis on the Spirit in his Gospel) makes this evident. But those outside this world of experience often fail to see its importance.
Zeb Bradford Long and Douglas McMurry are two Presbyterian (U.S.A.) ministers who have discovered this power. Their recent book Receiving the Power: Preparing the Way for the Holy Spirit makes compelling reading as they chronicle momentous workings of the Spirit both in Asia and in the United States.46 If this is ministry, if this is what it means for Jesus to indwell and empower his disciples, some new and startling directions for ministry seem necessary.
Among John’s disciples in the first century, bearing the Spirit was one of a number of markers that distinguished Christian discipleship. Yet this was not simply about power. The chief theme of John 20 is the relationship that Jesus desires to have with his followers. The story of Mary underscores the intimacy that should characterize this relationship. The story of the Upper Room underscores that this is a relationship forged by the work of the Spirit. Christian discipleship is a union with Jesus Christ that empowers and transforms, that is mystical, that exceeds our rational abilities to understand and quantify. To make it less is to miss the work that Jesus tried to accomplish with his first followers on the first Easter.
The necessity of faith. Thus John has finished the main body of his Gospel. The choice is ours. After reading the many episodes from Jesus’ life in these twenty chapters, we are summoned to make a judgment. Since chapter 5 we learned that the trial of Jesus was not really taking place in a Jerusalem courtroom with Pilate or the high priest. The venue of Jesus’ trial was in fact the entire world. Accusations have come and gone—divine acts (signs) with potent meanings have been given—and we have watched as men and women have been divided. No one remained neutral. Some found Jesus’ personal claims so outrageous that they were filled with rage and worked to sabotage him. Others observed his deeds, listened to his words, and decided to believe that he indeed was God’s messenger, his Son, bearing divine truth for the world. The pressing question rests here: How will we stand in this parting of the crowd?
Through his literary expertise John has placed us in the drama by making us view the evidence in the case for and against Jesus. He knows well that his readers—in Jerusalem, Ephesus, Rome, Singapore, Lusaka, Cambridge, and Chicago—will not have the same experience that he or even Thomas had. We look on the evidence from afar. Nevertheless, there is still good evidence to be had—there is an historical story that must be read—and this story is sufficient to make belief not only defensible but reasonable. We stand with the Beloved Disciple looking at the emptiness of the tomb (20:8), recognizing that these indeed were Jesus’ burial clothes. John invites us to make the same decision uttered in that garden: “The other disciple, who had reached the tomb first, also went inside. He saw and believed” (italics added).
Throughout the Gospel faith and seeing are joined (6:36; 11:40; 6:46–47; 20:25–29). But this means more than seeing Jesus and choosing to believe. It is about a different sort of vision altogether. Many saw Jesus and marveled, but it was seeing through faith that permitted them to see his glory, to recognize his sonship, to respond to his shepherd’s voice. Faith permits a vision, a knowing inaccessible to the person whose sight remains shaped by the world. As C. H. Dodd reminds us, however, “now that He is no longer visible to the bodily eye, faith remains the capacity for seeing His glory.”47 Therefore we are called to read John’s story and there discover a vision, a knowledge, that invests everything in the historic person of Jesus Christ.
It is striking that John never uses the noun “faith” (Gk. pistis) in his Gospel. Yet the verb “to believe” (Gk. pisteuo) appears almost a hundred times. The Synoptic Gospels together use this verb only about thirty-five times, and Paul uses it about a hundred times in all of his writings combined. John’s interest is to underscore the act of believing (as opposed to the content of faith). More than anywhere else in the New Testament, John’s Gospel follows this verb with a preposition (eis, into), which demands not that we simply believe, but that we place our faith into someone; in most instances, it is into Jesus (e.g., 3:16; 4:50; 8:30; 12:11; 14:1).
Faith, then, is more a matter of relationship than of creed.48 On occasion it means accepting that a message given is true and trustworthy (2:22), but for the most part faith springs from confidence in the works Jesus has done (2:11; 10:38) and results in a desire to invest all hope in him.49 Faith is personal and transforming since it is dependent on a person who has demonstrated himself powerful and trustworthy. It is the decision whereby a person gains eternal life and the power to become a child of God (1:12; 3:16) and so marks himself or herself as a member of Jesus’ community.