SIX DAYS BEFORE the Passover, Jesus arrived at Bethany, where Lazarus lived, whom Jesus had raised from the dead. 2Here a dinner was given in Jesus’ honor. Martha served, while Lazarus was among those reclining at the table with him. 3Then Mary took about a pint of pure nard, an expensive perfume; she poured it on Jesus’ feet and wiped his feet with her hair. And the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.
4But one of his disciples, Judas Iscariot, who was later to betray him, objected, 5“Why wasn’t this perfume sold and the money given to the poor? It was worth a year’s wages.” 6He did not say this because he cared about the poor but because he was a thief; as keeper of the money bag, he used to help himself to what was put into it.
7“Leave her alone,” Jesus replied. “It was intended that she should save this perfume for the day of my burial. 8You will always have the poor among you, but you will not always have me.”
9Meanwhile a large crowd of Jews found out that Jesus was there and came, not only because of him but also to see Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. 10So the chief priests made plans to kill Lazarus as well, 11for on account of him many of the Jews were going over to Jesus and putting their faith in him.
12The next day the great crowd that had come for the Feast heard that Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem. 13They took palm branches and went out to meet him, shouting,
“Hosanna!”
“Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”
“Blessed is the King of Israel!”
14Jesus found a young donkey and sat upon it, as it is written,
15“Do not be afraid, O Daughter of Zion;
see, your king is coming,
seated on a donkey’s colt.”
16At first his disciples did not understand all this. Only after Jesus was glorified did they realize that these things had been written about him and that they had done these things to him.
17Now the crowd that was with him when he called Lazarus from the tomb and raised him from the dead continued to spread the word. 18Many people, because they had heard that he had given this miraculous sign, went out to meet him. 19So the Pharisees said to one another, “See, this is getting us nowhere. Look how the whole world has gone after him!”
20Now there were some Greeks among those who went up to worship at the Feast. 21They came to Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee, with a request. “Sir,” they said, “we would like to see Jesus.” 22Philip went to tell Andrew; Andrew and Philip in turn told Jesus.
23Jesus replied, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. 24I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds. 25The man who loves his life will lose it, while the man who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life. 26Whoever serves me must follow me; and where I am, my servant also will be. My Father will honor the one who serves me.
27“Now my heart is troubled, and what shall I say? ‘Father, save me from this hour’? No, it was for this very reason I came to this hour. 28Father, glorify your name!”
Then a voice came from heaven, “I have glorified it, and will glorify it again.” 29The crowd that was there and heard it said it had thundered; others said an angel had spoken to him.
30Jesus said, “This voice was for your benefit, not mine. 31Now is the time for judgment on this world; now the prince of this world will be driven out. 32But I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all men to myself.” 33He said this to show the kind of death he was going to die.
34The crowd spoke up, “We have heard from the Law that the Christ will remain forever, so how can you say, ‘The Son of Man must be lifted up’? Who is this ‘Son of Man’?”
35Then Jesus told them, “You are going to have the light just a little while longer. Walk while you have the light, before darkness overtakes you. The man who walks in the dark does not know where he is going. 36Put your trust in the light while you have it, so that you may become sons of light.” When he had finished speaking, Jesus left and hid himself from them.
37Even after Jesus had done all these miraculous signs in their presence, they still would not believe in him. 38This was to fulfill the word of Isaiah the prophet:
“Lord, who has believed our message
and to whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed?”
39For this reason they could not believe, because, as Isaiah says elsewhere:
40“He has blinded their eyes
and deadened their hearts,
so they can neither see with their eyes,
nor understand with their hearts,
nor turn—and I would heal them.”
41Isaiah said this because he saw Jesus’ glory and spoke about him.
42Yet 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; 43for they loved praise from men more than praise from God.
44Then Jesus cried out, “When a man believes in me, he does not believe in me only, but in the one who sent me. 45When he looks at me, he sees the one who sent me. 46I have come into the world as a light, so that no one who believes in me should stay in darkness.
47“As for the person who hears my words but does not keep them, I do not judge him. For I did not come to judge the world, but to save it. 48There is a judge for the one who rejects me and does not accept my words; that very word which I spoke will condemn him at the last day. 49For I did not speak of my own accord, but the Father who sent me commanded me what to say and how to say it. 50I know that his command leads to eternal life. So whatever I say is just what the Father has told me to say.”
Original Meaning
JOHN HAS NOW finished recording the events of Jesus’ public ministry. John 12 is the final chapter of the “Book of Signs,” in which the evangelist records three events in the days just prior to Passover: Mary anoints Jesus in Bethany (12:1–11), Jesus enters Jerusalem in his triumphal entry (12:12–19), and Greeks who are attending Passover visit Jesus (12:20–36). These are followed by John’s theological explanation of the unbelief of Judaism (12:37–43) and Jesus’ final plea for faith (12:44–50).
The drama of John’s account of Jesus’ life has now taken a critical turn. Two stories are building as we come to this juncture. On the one hand, Jesus is being praised by growing numbers of people. At Bethany, the Lazarus miracle led many to faith (11:45; 12:17), so that enthusiasm for Jesus is growing. When Jesus crosses the Mount of Olives from Bethany to enter Jerusalem, crowds gather to cheer him on (12:12). Even non-Jews are intrigued and show interest in him. On the other hand, the authorities are increasingly determined to stop him. From their point of view, Jesus’ popularity has become a problem (11:48; 12:19), and he must be arrested. No compromise seems possible. Jesus must be eliminated or the stability of Jerusalem will be at risk (11:45–53).
These two dramatic threads in this Gospel will climax at one place: the cross. Ironically, it is not as if these two interests collide, destroying each other’s momentum. That would be a surface reading of the story. The deeper story is that the work of the Sanhedrin will propel Jesus toward further glory. “But I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all men to myself” (12:32). The cross will not be a place of humiliation, but of glory. Therefore we have in this final page of the Book of Signs a variety of themes rolling over one another: excited popularity, imminent death, promised glorification, rejection, and unbelief.
Mary Anoints Jesus in Bethany (12:1–11)
AFTER THE RAISING of Lazarus, Jesus knew that the threat to his own life was serious. He therefore departed and remained in the region north of Jerusalem, near Bethel (see comment on 11:54). However, as the Passover approaches, he returns to Bethany and remains with the family of Lazarus, Martha, and Mary.1 The family is no doubt living with a keen sense of fear and are dreading the tragedy of Jesus’ arrest that seems to lie on the near horizon. Mary feels the weight of these momentous days. During a meal hosted by Martha (in Martha’s home?) she anoints Jesus with costly ointment.
The account of Jesus’ anointing in Bethany is recorded in Matthew and Mark (Matt. 26:6–16; Mark 14:3–9) as well as here in John.2 Matthew and Mark offer a similar version and, on one view of the Synoptic problem, Matthew may be dependent on Mark’s account. Most likely Mark and John are recording the same story. Note this comparison of their details:3
Mark 14:3–9 | John 12:1–11 |
Bethany | Bethany |
two days before Passover | six days before Passover |
house of Simon the leper | [house of Martha] |
a woman | Mary |
[x] | a pound |
alabaster jar | [x] |
breaks jar | [x] |
“expensive [polytelos] perfume” | “expensive [politimos] perfume” |
genuine nard | genuine nard |
anoints Jesus’ head | anoints Jesus’ feet |
[x] | wipes Jesus’ feet with her hair |
disciples angry | Judas angry |
value: more than 300 denarii | value: 300 denarii |
Jesus defends the woman | Jesus defends Mary |
“Leave her alone” | “Leave her alone” |
“Poor always with you” | “Poor always with you” |
Jesus anointed for burial | [x] |
reported to the whole world | [x] |
These parallels are extensive and the major differences really only work to supplement one another. The chief contextual difference is that Mark and Matthew record the anointing following the triumphal entry, whereas John records it before. However, Synoptic chronologies are often fluid. Mark also says that Jesus’ head was anointed (John refers to feet). Most of the other details can be easily integrated to create a consistent picture. For instance, the “pound” of ointment mentioned by John would be too much for Jesus’ feet. Even though Mark explains that Jesus’ head was anointed, Jesus later says that his body was anointed (Mark 14:8). Therefore Mary likely took this large amount of perfume and liberally placed it on Jesus, only drying his feet with her hair. We will look at the details more closely below.
Jesus’ arrival six days before Passover (12:1) immediately opens a complex subject concerning how John dates the Passover and Jesus’ crucifixion. I will look at this in some detail on 13:1 (and 19:14, 31), but for now can anticipate those conclusions. John can be harmonized with the Synoptic chronology, making the onset of Passover Thursday night (hence the meal recorded in chapter 13 is indeed a Passover meal). This means that Jesus arrives in Bethany six days before the next Thursday evening (remembering that Jewish days start just after dusk), which is to say that he arrives late on Friday just as Sabbath begins. The meal described in 12:2 may refer to a meal on Saturday evening (following the close of Sabbath), since by then word of Jesus’ arrival would have spread through the village and people would be free to travel. On the following day (12:12) Jesus enters Jerusalem in triumph.
It is difficult to be precise concerning the location of the meal. Is it Martha’s home? Mary’s? Do they live together? No evidence is available. Some have tried to harmonize Mark’s account and suggested that Simon the Leper (Mark 14:3) is the father of Lazarus (and the women), but this is speculative. It may also be that since lepers could not live in Israelite villages, this is traditionally “Simon’s” house and the family of Lazarus now lives there.4 Mark only tells us that it was Simon’s home, not that he is at the meal. At any rate, it is an important meal attended by many who want to honor Jesus publicly and remember the great event of Lazarus’s life (John 12:9). Jews reclined at formal meals in the first century (12:2); this will become an interesting aspect of Jesus’ Passover meal in chapter 13 (see comment on 13:25).
It goes without saying that Mary’s dramatic gesture (which fits her portrait in Luke 10:38–42) is astonishing. While Judas objects (12:4), Jesus finds in it a pleasing expression of devotion. Nard was a rare and precious spice imported from northern India. The Latin writer Pliny gives us a full description of it in his Natural History.5 Nard is a shrub whose leaves and “shoots” were harvested and taken by caravan to the west. Sometimes it was mixed with its own root to increase its weight. Note that Mary’s gift is called “pure” nard, meaning it had no additives. Nard smelled like gladiolus (gladiola) perfume (Pliny: “a sweet scent”) and had a red color. It could be used in a variety of ways: in medicinal recipes, as an aromatic wine, as a breath scent, and as a perfume (for clothes and body).
A pound of the spice would have been huge and lavish. Its value of three hundred denarii represents one year’s wage for a day-laborer (Matt. 20:1–16). Some cheaper nard cost one hundred denarii per pound (depending on its origin: Gaul, Crete, or Syria), but our story shows that Mary has purchased the very best.6 Such a gift invites us to speculate how Mary can acquire this perfume. Are they a wealthy family? Is this from some family heirloom? At least we know that the average Jewish family would not be able to do such a thing.
Mary anoints Jesus generously, not simply on his feet (12:3) but also his head (Mark 14:3), which no doubt runs down and perfumes his garments (cf. Mark 14:8). Mark says that Mary “breaks the bottle” when she pours it. This refers to her breaking the stopper-seal at the top of the alabaster vase.7 The quantity is so great that the entire house is filled with its fragrance (John 12:3), which underscores the extravagance of the gift. John emphasizes Jesus’ feet to show the sheer act of humble devotion on Mary’s part and to provide a contrast with the foot-washing of the next chapter. That she uses her hair to dry his feet is peculiar; in a similar story in Luke 7:38, such behavior inspires sharp criticism from the dinner host. Women did not let down their hair in public, and the only one who saw a woman’s hair was her husband. Mary is acting with abandon, extravagant abandon, hoping that the close circle of friends will understand.
That Judas objects (12:4) comes as no surprise. This gift is astounding. Although John does not say it, some of the other disciples probably feel similar things. The legitimacy of Judas’s complaint is tarnished, however, by his own reputation. As treasurer of the group he would steal money from their holdings (12:6). But John reminds us that Judas is also the one who will betray Jesus (12:4). This is not a prophesy, but derives “from the shocking force of hindsight.”8 John cannot tell any story about Judas without his treacherous deed overshadowing his image.
Jesus’ defense of Mary (12:7–8) is difficult to translate. What is Mary “to save”? The perfume is all gone (cf. Mark 14) and it cannot be kept till later. Some believe that the memory of this deed will be kept. Ancient scribes often edited the text at this point to clear up the point. The NIV gives a paraphrase that extends the Greek but likely gives the best interpretation (“It was intended that she should save this perfume for the day of my burial”). The idea is no doubt that she had kept this perfume for some later use, but now (unknowingly) has kept it for Jesus’ embalming.9 Like Caiaphas in 11:50–51, her deed (like his words) bears a meaning far beyond what is intended. Jesus has now been prepared for burial (figuratively) as he heads toward the day of his death and glorification.
Jesus’ final words in 12:8 place in tension pure personal adoration and social responsibility (also in Matt. 26:11; Mark 14:7). To acknowledge the endless needs of the poor was not unusual (Deut. 15:11). Jesus’ presence among them, however, is unique.10 This is not to deny our responsibility to the poor, but it alerts us to the wonder of who Mary and Martha are hosting that day.
Following the story of Mary in Bethany, John provides a narrative link to the next episode (12:9–11). Many people begin to arrive in Bethany. Jesus’ reputation has spread through Jerusalem and its surrounding villages. Now there is a double reason to see him: Not only is Jesus in Judea, but they can see Lazarus too. Lazarus has become a source of new faith in Jesus. Is he talking about this miracle? How can he not? Therefore the Sanhedrin determines that Lazarus must likewise die (12:11). And this supplies some not-so-subtle humor. They wish to return Lazarus to the place he belongs (the grave), and no doubt from Lazarus’ perspective, it is a plot that has been emptied of its threat. Lazarus now knows the power of Jesus over the grave.
Jesus’ Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem (12:12–19)
IF WE ARE right that Jesus meets with crowds on Saturday and that rumor of his presence in Judea is alive in Jerusalem (12:12), his grand entrance into the holy city the next day (“Palm Sunday”) stirs the populace even more. This account is recorded in all four Gospels (cf. Matt. 21:1–11; Mark 11:1–11; Luke 19:29–38), which shows the importance of this event. On the Sunday of Jesus’ final week, he climbs the back (or east) side of the Mount of Olives (departing Bethany) and comes to the next village of Bethphage (Mark 11:1), where, according to the Synoptics, he borrows a young donkey to ride into the city (John 12:14).
John’s abbreviated account omits some of the Synoptic details and focuses on the crowds, who likewise have come to Jerusalem to celebrate the feast of Passover. Such festival participation is a religious obligation,11 and we can expect that crowds of pilgrims, including many from Galilee, have arrived and are living on the outskirts of the city. Many are in the Kidron Valley (which separates Jerusalem and the Mount of Olives), and as Jesus crosses the crest of the mountain, they join the crowd already accompanying him.
It is important to keep in mind the significance of these crowds. Many scholars believe that the regular population of Jerusalem in this period was about 50,000 and that during Passover it grew to perhaps 100,000 to 120,000.12 The social dynamic of this change was immense. The city could not contain the population and as a result, thousands of people lived on the hillsides surrounding the city. The crowds brought tension to the leadership of the city (12:19), who knew that any social disruption that began at a festival could explode violently.
The branches from date palms (12:13) were abundant in Israel, and their use here is important for symbolic reasons. Palms had become a symbol of Jewish nationalism. When the temple was rededicated during the Maccabean era, palms were used in the celebration (1 Macc. 13:51; 2 Macc. 10:7). In the extrabiblical tradition, palms were used by Levi as a symbol of ruling power (T. Naph. 5:4). During both major wars with Rome, reliefs of palms were stamped on the coins minted by the rebels. Thus this act of celebration is by no means neutral. It symbolizes Israel’s national hopes, now focused on Jesus, being hailed as he enters the city.
The cry of “Hosanna!” is an Aramaic phrase meaning “Save us now!” and it occurs in a number of the psalms (esp. Ps. 118:25). The following words (“Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord”) likewise continue to quote from Psalm 118:26 and announce a blessing on the pilgrim arriving in Jerusalem. But what comes next (“Blessed is the king of Israel!”) is not in the psalm and departs considerably from its intent. Suddenly we gain the impression that the crowds are greeting a national liberator.
“Triumphal entries” were common in the ancient world. A conquering hero or king would return to his city, bringing the spoils of his battles and stories of conquest.13 This imagery would not be missed on any Greek-speaking audience on the eastern edge of the Roman empire. When John says that the crowd “went out to meet him,” this is a common expression used for cities meeting their triumphant, returning king.14 In a Jewish context, “Hosanna” was used to greet such incoming kings (2 Sam. 14:4; 2 Kings 6:26). In fact, Jewish culture understood these “royal welcomes” so well that it adopted such forms commonly.15
Therefore this scene is awash in Jewish political fervor. The palms, the entry, and the cries all remind us of what happened in John 6:14–15. After Jesus fed the five thousand, the crowd announced that Jesus is “the Prophet who is to come into the world” and promptly attempted to take him “by force” and “make him king.” Jesus was misunderstood then; now he is misunderstood again. The Lazarus miracle that fuels the crowd’s enthusiasm is now twisted into something linked to Jerusalem’s political aspirations.
Jesus’ use of a young donkey (12:14) is an attempt to calm the zeal of the crowd, which John interprets for us with a quote from the Old Testament. “Do not be afraid” may either come from Zephaniah 3:16 or Isaiah 40:9, while the balance of the quote is cited from Zechariah 9:9. These are reassurances of God’s presence in Jerusalem to work on behalf of the people. However the larger context of Zechariah 9—surely assumed by the crowd—is helpful. Matthew knows this and cites the passage more widely (Matt. 21:5). The triumphant king is “gentle and riding on a donkey.” This “gentle [humble] king” is not a man of chariots and war horses, swords and bows (Zech. 9:10), but one who will bring peace to all nations. His gift is a gift of life, not conquest. Hence, Jesus is forcing a messianic reinterpretation of his purposes for the crowd, which is caught up in a frenzied passion for Jesus’ kingship.
John concludes this part of his story with a “transitional” section (12:16–19) that sums up what has transpired thus far as this “Jerusalem drama” reaches its crescendo. Not only do the crowds fail to understand the true nature of Jesus’ “kingship,” but the disciples likewise misunderstand “all this.” (They understand the messianic nature of Jesus’ acts, but they cannot see beneath the surface to the true meaning of Jesus’ mission.) John’s editorial comment about their misunderstanding recalls 2:22, following Jesus’ cleansing of the temple. It was not until Jesus was glorified—when they saw the nature of Jesus’ person and work and were filled with God’s Spirit—that they understood the true picture of what was happening.
John reminds us that the catalyst for the crowd’s excitement was the raising of Lazarus (12:17–18). At this point we are also reminded that the Pharisees have begun to despair at Jesus’ popularity (12:19). This parallels similar concerns voiced by Luke. When Jesus reaches the city, his popularity swells and some of the Pharisees tell him to silence the crowd (Luke 19:39). When Jesus teaches in the temple, the Pharisees despair, recognizing that so many people “hang on his words” (Luke 19:47–48).
But double meaning is still at work in John. When the Pharisees say “the world” has gone after him, the deeper irony is that these words point to the fulfillment of Jesus’ primary mission. “For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him” (3:17). The “world” in Johannine thought generally refers to those men and women who stand in disbelief, refusing to acknowledge God or his Son. Now we learn that the “world” is running to Jesus. It is no accident that the next episode records characters from that larger Mediterranean world, namely, some Greeks who are eager to see Jesus.
The Hour Has Come (12:20–36)
THE WORD “GREEKS” (Gk. Hellenes, 12:20) does not necessarily describe someone from Greece, but was a label for anyone not Jewish—that is, from a Jewish perspective, “Gentiles.” They are also likely not converts (proselytes) to Judaism or else something more descriptive would be given (cf. Acts 6:1). These Greeks who come up to the feast are likely “God-fearers,” Gentiles who admire the Jewish faith and respect its traditions. An example of such a person might be the centurion of Capernaum, who respected Judaism so much he built a synagogue (Luke 7:5). Cornelius is likewise described as a God-fearer in the book of Acts: “He and all his family were devout and God-fearing; he gave generously to those in need and prayed to God regularly” (Acts 10:2, 22). Even Paul distinguishes them in his public addresses: “Men of Israel and you Gentiles who fear God, listen to me” (Acts 13:16, 26).
The lands surrounding Israel (e.g., the Decapolis) were filled with Greek-speaking peoples. Sepphoris, the capital of Galilee, for instance, had a population of about twenty thousand, who knew and admired these grand festivals. Such Gentiles were invited to the feasts but were permitted to go no further than the Court of the Gentiles, the largest forecourt surrounding the temple sanctuary. A short wall stood between them and the inner courts, warning that for a Gentile to pass beyond was viewed as a capital offense (cf. Eph. 2:14).
The interest of these Greeks in Jesus may have come from the gossip spreading through the city or from his cleansing of the temple, recorded here by the Synoptic Gospels.16 Either way, they approach Philip from Bethsaida (1:44–46; 6:5–7), probably because he has a Hellenistic name and comes from a Greek region (Bethsaida, 1:44). But for John it is their theological symbolism that is important. These God-fearers represent the “scattered children of God” of 11:52. They are the “other sheep” of 10:16. The question they ask in 12:21 is reminiscent of the language of discipleship we have seen earlier in the gospel. They want to “see” Jesus. On one level it refers to an opportunity to talk with Jesus and ask questions (cf. “see” in Luke 8:20; 9:9). However, the verbs of seeing often mean far more.17 They are invitations to belief; these are foreigners who now stand ready to join the flock of Christ.
Curiously, the arrival of these God-fearers triggers “the hour” we have been hearing about throughout the gospel (12:23). Many times we have listened to Jesus say that the hour has not yet arrived (2:4; 7:30; 8:20). The “hour of glorification” points to his return to the Father through his death on the cross, his resurrection, and his exaltation. Therefore something has changed; the Greeks signal the closing of a chapter for Jesus. His ministry in Judaism is finished and he now belongs to the wider world.
Rather than engage these God-fearers (who now disappear from the story), Jesus offers an extended discourse (12:24–36) that gives insight into the meaning of this hour. What are the chief elements here? Jesus begins by offering a parable that explains the “law of the kingdom of God.”18 Just as a seed must “die” in order to give life, likewise Jesus must die in order to give life to the world. This same law applies to disciples (12:25). To relinquish one’s hold on life—to give it up—is the key to participation in the kingdom.19 This thought appears in the Synoptic tradition as well (Matt. 10:39; 16:25; Mark 8:35; Luke 9:24; 17:33), which shows its importance in the minds of all the evangelists.
But we should note that the results of this sacrifice are different for Jesus and for the disciples. Jesus’ sacrifice brings about life for others, but his disciples must practice this discipline so that they can procure life for themselves. Jesus’ fidelity to this law is one reason the Father loves him (John 10:17); likewise, Jesus says, such service will be the basis of God’s honoring his people (12:26b). Following Jesus therefore involves self-sacrifice (12:26a)—an echo of similar Synoptic sayings about bearing one’s cross (Matt. 16:24; Mark 8:34; Luke 9:23). The chief difference in the Johannine version, however, is a promise: “. . . and where I am, my servant also will be.” While most commentators believe this promise points to a unity of purpose between Jesus and his servants, it also points to a guarantee that such servants will be with Jesus in heaven (14:3; 17:24).
One of the hallmarks of John’s Gospel is Jesus’ confidence as he moves toward the hour of glorification, now imminent as the days of Passover unfold. The Synoptic Gospels describe this period as a time when Jesus both affirms his complete commitment to do God’s will and struggles with the horror of what it means to die in crucifixion. While John records no scene that parallels Jesus’ Gethsemane agony (e.g., Mark 14:32–42), John 12:27–33 gives us a glimpse into Jesus’ struggle and perseverance.
Jesus’ turmoil (Gk. tarasso, 12:27) recalls his agitation and anger when he stood before Lazarus’s tomb (11:33) and will come up again when Judas betrays him (13:21). This turmoil should not be minimized. Thus, he wonders what he should say (12:27a). The words in 12:27b can be read either as a question (so NIV, RSV, NRSV, NLT, etc.) or as a statement. If a question, it implies that this is something Jesus does not really pray (“What shall I say? ‘Father, save me from this hour’? No!”). But if it is a genuine prayer (which is likely), it can be read as a statement in the following manner: “What should I say? [pause] Father, save me from this hour—but no! It was for this very reason that I came to this hour.”
Here we are listening to Jesus’ genuine anguish and the strength of his obedience as he conforms his life to his Father’s will (5:19–23; 6:37; 8:29; 38; 14:31; cf. Heb 5:7–10). In this sense, the prayer is similar to Jesus’ words in Gethsemane, “Take this cup from me,” which are followed with a word of obedience, “Yet not what I will, but what you will” (Mark 14:36). The prayer that concludes Jesus’ spiritual wrestling (John 12:28) unveils his final commitment: “Father, glorify your name!” This is a request that has controlled his entire life (8:29, 50).
Jesus’ prayer is a conversation with God, who now responds audibly (12:28b). Such words from heaven were not viewed as uncommon in Judaism, and while the rabbis thought they were inferior to prophesy, such words were seen as legitimately from heaven.20 God affirms that he has already glorified himself in his Son; here we no doubt should think of the Incarnation (by which God has entered the world) and the work of Jesus (by which God has shown his power in the world). But he says he will glorify it again; this will be the final act of glory, the cross.
As with the other signs of Jesus, so now, the crowd struggles to understand what has happened (12:29–30). Some think the voice is only thunder. Others assign it to an angel. But typically, the world can barely comprehend the magnitude of what is transpiring in Jesus Christ. Thus, naturally, there is misunderstanding. This voice, Jesus says, is for those listening, not for him. God is continuing to supply the world with evidence of himself.21
If the long-anticipated hour is breaking forth, the “lifting up” (or crucifixion, 12:33) of the Son of Man (12:31) will be the climactic event for the world.22 The judgment inaugurated by the cross is not about some future day when believers and unbelievers are separated. The glorification of Christ brings catastrophic change to everything right now. The “now” of 12:31 must be underscored and taken seriously. The cross of Christ inaugurates judgment. It unmasks those aligned with Satan and opposed to God, who will crucify the Son. The cross also identifies those who are children of the light, who believe and are saved. Thus Jesus’ ironic phrase, “lifting up,” is an apt euphemism for crucifixion (cf. 3:14–15). As he is lifted up from the earth in crucifixion (en route back to heaven), he is visible to all. Like light shining in darkness with all of its radiance, so now every hidden darkness will be exposed.
The crowds who have just celebrated Jesus’ kingship (12:13–15) now hear clearly what Jesus is intending (12:34):23 A grain of wheat must die; Jesus must lose his life; Jesus will be lifted up; all of this will bring about his glorification. This is perplexing because according to popular belief in Judaism, the Messiah (or the Christ) would not be a victim; rather, he would triumph over his foes and establish Israel as his permanent kingdom (Ps. Sol. 17:4).24 Jesus’ view seems incomprehensible. The same response of incomprehensibility appears in the Synoptic Gospels when Jesus specifically says he is going to die (Mark 8:32). “Who is this ‘Son of Man’?” is not a request for Jesus to identify himself (e.g., “Are you the Son of Man?”), but a question that asks: What sort of Son of Man or Messiah is this who finds glory in death?
Jesus denies them an answer (12:35–36a), refusing to enter into speculation about the theological role of the Messiah in popular thought. Instead he appeals to them to believe. Now the urgent tone of his appeal is based on the limited opportunity of the crowd. Jesus is the light (1:4, 7–9; 3:19–21; 8:12, etc.), but it will not shine in the world forever (except through the later ministry of the Spirit). Therefore the crowd must make a choice and make it quickly before the light disappears. To become a “son of light”25 (12:36) means to become a disciple, one who reflects the life of the master (cf. 1:12). But to fail to embrace the light, to refuse to believe, means that one will become a victim of the darkness (12:35).
To reinforce this urgency and to model what he means Jesus disappears (12:36b; cf. 11:54), intentionally hiding himself from them. The public revelation of Jesus is now complete. His signs have been displayed in full. Men and women must come to terms with the revelation that has been placed in the world. Yet this is the mystery of Jesus’ life: Even though “light has come into the world . . . men loved darkness instead of light” (3:19).
John 12:37 recalls Moses’ words in Deuteronomy 29:2–4, where that great leader reminds Israel of all God has done for them: “With your own eyes you saw those great trials, those miraculous signs and great wonders.” Nevertheless, Moses says, “the LORD has not given you a mind that understands or eyes that see or ears that hear.” It only remains for John to supply an “addendum” (12:38–43) that will help us understand this mystery.
The Dilemma of Unbelief (12:38–43)
JOHN 12:37–38 IS a watershed in the theology of the Gospel of John. Jesus’ public work is completed; his signs have been displayed in the world; his discourses have been delivered. And yet, the signs have been rejected. His own people have failed to believe the messenger sent by God. We were warned that this would happen in John’s opening prologue, “He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him” (1:11). How does John explain this? How can the Christians in John’s church (many years later) interpret the story of Jesus’ life that leads to rejection? Has God failed? Has unbelief triumphed? Is John 1:5 wrong; that is, has the darkness won the victory over the light?
John echoes the thinking of other New Testament writers when he leads us first to Isaiah 53:1. Isaiah 53 provided the earliest Christians with a poignant description of the Suffering Servant, whose image helped interpret the anguish and suffering of Jesus.26 And Isaiah 53:1 sums up the Servant’s rejection: Neither his words (“our message”) nor his deeds (“the arm of the Lord”) has found any reception in Israel. John then takes us to Isaiah 6:10, which became the classic New Testament explanation for Israel’s rejection of Jesus. Paul cites it in his final speech in Acts (Acts 28:26–27), and the Synoptic Gospels use it to explain why the people cannot comprehend the parables of Jesus (Matt. 13:13–15; Mark 4:12; Luke 8:10).
The theological message of John 12:38–40 is thus anchored to Isaiah’s experience. God called Isaiah to speak to Israel but forewarned him that his words would find no acceptance. People would hear, but fail to understand; they would see, but fail to comprehend. Therefore Isaiah did not fail; rather, he fulfilled God’s purposes. Likewise, Jesus did not fail in his ministry, but he was continuing the prophetic experience of Isaiah; he was simply filling up or completing what Isaiah described in his own time.27 The Jews should therefore hear John’s words and see them as an exhortation to repent of their disbelief and turn to the messenger who can save them.
The intention of John (and indeed Isaiah) is not to provide a rigid predestinarian explanation for unbelief. In fact, it is doubtful if biblical writers like Isaiah or John were thinking about a philosophical causality as some would argue for it today. In John’s Gospel, God’s sovereignty and human responsibility are held together consistently. Jesus calls for people to believe (12:36), and we learn that many do indeed make this choice (12:42). Throughout the Gospel John never compromises the demand Jesus makes for decision and faith.
However, John is describing what we might call a “judicial” hardening that settles on a people who are already guilty. When revelation comes, we must believe. But if we refuse to believe, the light disappears (12:35–36); and when God’s light departs from the world, the darkness (which is the default state of the world) closes over unbelieving hearts.28 (In John’s literary schema, this is why Jesus disappears in 12:36b.) Paul makes a similar argument in Romans 1. The consequence of the world’s sin and unbelief is God’s judgment, in which he “gives them over” to their sinful instincts (Rom. 1:24, 26, 28).29 Note that John changes the order of Isaiah 6:10. While Isaiah refers to “heart, ears, eyes,” John begins with “eyes.” This fits the literary motif he has developed since chapter 9. Will blind eyes see? It also underscores the importance of Jesus’ signs, which must be seen and believed.
It is also important to see that rejection is hopeful in the plan of God. God’s sovereignty looks to accomplish wider purposes: In Isaiah 6:11–13 blindness must remain until the thoroughgoing judgment of God on Israel is complete (“until the cities lie in waste”). In John’s understanding, the hardness of Israel is likewise purposeful: Through Christ’s rejection, salvation will be won for Israel at the cross and the glory of God revealed.30 Unbelieving Jews will crucify him. Moreover, through their refusal the gospel now comes to the rest of the world. Paul makes the same claim in Romans 9:22–33: God is at work sealing judgment in the present in order to achieve a long-term purpose.
The link with Isaiah is further reinforced in John 12:41, “Isaiah said this because he saw Jesus’ glory and spoke about him.” This brings us back to Isaiah’s vision in Isaiah 6:1–4, where the prophet saw the Lord “high and exalted” and surrounded by “his glory.” Isaiah had seen the Messiah (cf. John 8:56 and Abraham), and the glory witnessed there glimpsed something of the glory Jesus will presently reveal in his “hour.”
Jesus’ Final Plea for Belief (12:42–50)
THE STRUGGLE FOR belief in the world has now entered its final stage. Some believe and are eager to become “children of God” (1:12). Others are willing to betray Jesus (such as Judas Iscariot, 12:4), and still others are plotting his demise (11:53). Others are asking questions but remain in the darkness (12:34). Now John introduces us to yet another group (12:42–43): leaders in Judaism, such as Nicodemus (3:1; 7:50), who are keenly interested in Jesus and some of whom have decided to believe in him.31 But they refuse to make this faith public, so that many of their colleagues do not even know about them (7:48). John is harshly critical of them, and the stinging rebuke given in 12:43 reminds us of Jesus’ judgment on his accusers in 5:43–44. John provides models of excellent discipleship in 1:35–51; 4:1–42. To follow Jesus is to go and tell your friends despite the social consequences. Nicodemus’s story (recorded near these chapters) fails to show the basic elements of belief and testimony.
The Book of Signs closes with Jesus’ making a final plea for belief, probably in the precincts of the temple. For John this is no doubt a final theological summary, comprising the main motifs that have been publicly revealed in the ministry of Jesus. Many of its themes are now familiar: Jesus has been sent by the Father (12:44, 49); the Father is the sole authority in his ministry (12:45, 49); and he is light shining in darkness (12:46), trying to bring salvation (12:47) and eternal life (12:50) to those who will show faith (12:44, 46).
But we also have a warning. Just as Moses’ word will judge Israel (5:45), so now Jesus’ word will remain as a deposit of revelation by which human lives may be judged (12:48). Moreover, discipleship is not just a matter of knowing Jesus’ word; it is also a matter of “keeping” and “doing” what Jesus has said (12:47; cf. 8:31; Matt. 7:24–27; James 2:14–26).
The seriousness of Jesus’ revelation is reinforced in the end when he returns to his first subject: the Father (John 12:50). Without doubt, the presence of the Father in the life and work of Jesus is the theme John does not want us to miss. The Book of Signs began with a lofty description of Jesus’ origins with God himself (1:1–5). Throughout the course of the book we have read about how this light has been shining in the darkness (1:5). The greatest error of all is for a man or woman to see this light and reject it, thinking it has no connection with God. As Jesus will make clear in his private teachings among his disciples (14:10), when the world sees Jesus, when the world makes a decision about Jesus, it is really making a decision about God.
Bridging Contexts
IT IS IMPOSSIBLE to understand the dramatic forces at work in John 12 if someone has not watched the story of Jesus’ life unfold for the past eleven chapters. John 12 is a turning point, a critical juncture in the story—the close of the Book of Signs. It cannot be studied in isolation as if these episodes somehow stand independently of John’s longer story. The struggle between light and darkness, described in the prologue (1:1–18), now reaches a fever pitch. The light is shining with brilliance in the world, calling people to join its ranks. At the same time, the forces of darkness are working to extinguish it. Men and women are being forced to choose which side is theirs, and Jesus is passionately urging them to join with God. “Put your trust in the light while you have it, so that you may become sons of light” (12:36).
The chapter provides four scenes, each one weaving its stories into the larger tapestry of the Gospel’s drama. Some point back to earlier chapters, picking up motifs we have already studied (such as the misunderstood popularity of Jesus or the “other” sheep of Jesus). Other scenes point us forward to those things still to come (such as Mary’s devotion to Jesus in Bethany). These scenes provide intriguing possibilities for reflection in the church today.
Mary’s anointing of Jesus. The scene of Mary’s anointing of Jesus with costly perfume presents as many interpretative problems as it invites inspiring reflections.32 The story barely addresses Judas’s complaint. Was this money being wasted? Can the needs of the poor be set aside? Instead, Judas’s charge is dismissed quickly because of his reputation and because of what will happen later when he betrays Jesus.
This story is all about devotion, and Mary is the perfect character to model this. Wherever she appears both in this Gospel and in Luke, she appears at Jesus’ feet. This is a symbol of her interest as a devoted disciple of Jesus, and it is significant that Jesus defends her, giving her a respected place as one who knows better even than Jesus’ apostles. I have often thought about the importance of this gift to Jesus. If we integrate Mark’s version of the story, then we understand that Jesus was anointed all over. Even his garments were covered with the strong, sweet scent of nard. It is likely that Jesus kept this scent on his body through the following week. When he was suffering the anguish of crucifixion, Mary’s gift remained. It was the last truly beautiful fragrance he smelled as he went to the cross.
The scene of Mary’s anointing thus points us forward. Embalming spices were commonplace in the first century (12:7; 19:39), and the quantity of Mary’s perfume evokes images of an embalmed body. While the men surrounding Jesus will ask questions in the Upper Room and will find Jesus’ decision to die incomprehensible (13:36ff.), here is the image of Mary who asks no questions but gently begins to prepare her Lord for the grave. She has accepted Jesus’ humble mission long before Jesus’ leading disciples have understood it.
The comparison with the disciples of Jesus is apt from another angle. Inasmuch as Mary bathes Jesus’ feet in perfume, she has anticipated the foot-washing scene in chapter 13. In fact, Mary is the only one who does precisely what Jesus will ask in 13:14 before he asks it.
Thus this story is really about the cross, about Mary’s courageous understanding and acceptance of Jesus’ death. It is a profound signal to us (as readers) that Jesus is really going to die. It is also a statement that no gift can be too precious that shows gratitude for what Jesus is about to do.
How can I show Mary’s devotion today? If she is a model disciple here—and we have every suggestion that she is just that—how can I emulate her deed? Does one pound of nard simply become a metaphor for personal piety and devotion?
The triumphal entry. The second scene provides a stark counterpoint to Mary’s pure and extravagant devotion. On the surface, we could say that the celebration of Jesus’ arrival in Jerusalem shows the crowd’s enthusiasm for Jesus, and certainly John wants us to see it that way. But as I have sought to demonstrate, there is a darker motif in the story. The crowd is cheering a fantasy: Their messianic hero is a victor bringing a triumphant messianism to Jerusalem. But Jesus is a humble servant, and I imagine he wondered a great deal about the source of these people’s zeal. Nevertheless, here we have celebration. For John, even if players in his story do not know the deeper meaning of their actions (e.g., Caiaphas in 11:51), John is willing to identify the error and permit us to see the double meaning. Jerusalem is celebrating the arrival of its king despite the erroneous motivations of Jewish nationalists on that day.
But as we bring this text into the modern setting, we have to ask the same questions we asked when we probed the meaning of John 6. Does our zealous celebration of Jesus sometimes contain mixed motives? Does God accept the praise of his people even when it is faulty, incomplete, and broken?
Philip and the Greeks. We dare not miss John’s story about Philip’s meeting with the God-fearers in Jerusalem (the “Greeks”). Resting as it does at the dramatic turning point in the story, this episode is saying something important about Jesus’ mission. It parallels what we hear in the Synoptics about Jesus’ primary commitment to Israel, his own people: He was called to come exclusively to Israel and to reveal his messiahship. Jesus once even remarked, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel” (Matt. 15:24; cf. 10:6; Rom. 1:14–15). Ministry among those on Israel’s periphery (the Decapolis, Samaria) was secondary. But now his ministry in Israel is complete. Suddenly people not within the traditional “sheepfold” of Israel are coming to him.
This widening of the circle of “Jesus’ flock” was a hurdle for the earliest Christians, and a passage such as this would have been important if preached in John’s church. Consider, for instance, the tension described in Acts 6, when Greek-speaking believers in Christ (who were also Jews) expected equal participation in the church. There was discrimination. Imagine what might happen if Greek-speaking God-fearers were converted to Christ! Would their entry pose problems for culturally conservative believers such as James and Peter? Would this cultural and racial diversity be acceptable?
This is precisely the story found in Acts 10–11, where Peter receives a vision and converts the Roman Cornelius in Caesarea. When Peter submits his report to the leadership in Jerusalem (11:11–18), his most telling words address the cultural problem directly, “So if God gave them the same gift as he gave us, who believed in the Lord Jesus Christ, who was I to think that I could oppose God?” (11:17). The conclusion meant that God was also at work among the Gentiles (11:18).
Therefore this episode in the Jerusalem temple bears tremendous significance. Without rejecting Israel, this story affirms a new direction in the ministry of Jesus. Jesus is committed to men and women who live outside the cultural norms of Jewish society. And John suggests that this commitment, this widening of ministry, signals the start of “the hour” (12:23). To embrace “the Greeks” means that Jesus is now headed on the path that will lead to death for the world.
I am forced, then, to ask what it would look like for us to embrace this same “widening ministry” of Jesus. As we asked in chapter 10, who are the “other sheep” who are not yet in Jesus’ fold (10:16)? Is there a signal for us too, that to embrace that wider mission is to incur risk (a “cross”?) and to walk down the same path of Jesus? Is this what Jesus has in mind when he follows the story of the Greeks with an exhortation about discipleship leading to self-sacrifice?
The unbelief of the world. We need to struggle with the unbelief of the world that is described in 12:37–50. We cannot miss the importance of the dilemma that faced John and the early Christians. Certainly the problem of unbelief was as problematic during Jesus’ ministry as it was following the resurrection. Jews no doubt later argued that they could hardly be expected to believe in Jesus as the Messiah when, during his lifetime, many Jews rejected him. This problem was current among many leading New Testament writers. Paul anticipates this same criticism in Romans 9–11, when he must explain the consistent failure of Judaism to completely embrace Jesus. Just listening to Paul in Romans 9:1–5 gives us a glimpse into the apostle’s anguish:
I speak the truth in Christ—I am not lying, my conscience confirms it in the Holy Spirit—I have great sorrow and unceasing anguish in my heart. For I could wish that I myself were cursed and cut off from Christ for the sake of my brothers, those of my own race, the people of Israel. Theirs is the adoption as sons; theirs the divine glory, the covenants, the receiving of the law, the temple worship and the promises. Theirs are the patriarchs, and from them is traced the human ancestry of Christ, who is God over all, forever praised! Amen.
What was the explanation? Had God’s efforts in the world failed? Was God still in control even though his people lived in rebellion? Were there precedents from sacred history that perhaps could resolve the problem? As I pointed out above, John’s answer is in the experience of Isaiah. While some may point to a rigid Johannine determinism that claims God sovereignly elects all whom he desires and leaves in darkness those whom he rejects, there may be more satisfying interpretative alternatives. The fact is, Jesus clearly calls all persons to faith, and this is anchored to God’s love for the entire world (3:16). The hardening described by Isaiah may be a “judicial hardening,” namely, a decision by God to leave unbelievers in their unbelief, to leave them with the consequences of their refusal to embrace God.
But then we are again on the horns of a dilemma: How does anyone come to faith? How is the believing remnant any different? Has God’s sovereignty not successfully called them to life and faith? We must come to grips with the responsibility of human response.33
No subject could be more timely for today. Unbelief is rampant in the modern world. Today men and women love darkness just as they did in the first century. Are we safe to draw conclusions about God’s “judicial activity” even today? If God hardened the hearts of Isaiah’s audience and if God hardened the hearts of Jesus’ audience, does he still harden hearts today?
Secondary themes. Finally, I think the chapter invites us to reflect briefly on a few secondary themes. They are not central to the thrust of the entire chapter, but they are by no means minor. (1) John gives us a candid, personal glimpse into the heart of Jesus when he prays to his Father. The cross was a terrible fate, and Jesus knows the profundity of his sacrifice. We need to see in 12:27 that Jesus genuinely struggles, yet his obedience to his Father’s will is greater than his anxiety.
(2) John 12:35–36a could not provide a clearer evangelistic charge. We too must make a decision. The Greek tense of 12:36a underscores the force of Jesus’ words carefully, “that you may become sons of light.” This is an event, a threshold crossed, a line drawn. People do not inherit status as children of the light. They must choose.
(3) I am intrigued with John’s description of the “fearful believers” in 12:41–43. Were they truly followers of Jesus? Did their unwillingness to stand with Jesus publicly invalidate their faith? What does this say to men and women in the modern context who have privatized their faith and are unwilling to “go public” among those who have prestige and power?
Contemporary Significance
FEW CHAPTERS IN the Gospel of John are as potentially controversial as chapter 12. Here we have the stuff that has kept Christians debating for centuries: social responsibility, politics, pluralism, and divine sovereignty. If that were not enough, the chapter ends describing a circle of believers who decide that the social risks to being a public follower of Jesus are just too much. They fear people in established, prestigious authority. John implies (with little subtlety) that their faith is inadequate. It is not that these ideas are unclear; it is that their modern application is difficult, even controversial. I am confident that every reader will find something disagreeable in at least half my suggestions!
Mary’s extravagant gift of nard. It is easy to say that the expensive gift of Mary to Jesus simply has a temporal application. Jesus is on his way to the cross, and this is a gift that will prepare him. It is a luxurious perfumed reminder of her devotion that he can possess even as he is being tormented and tortured by the Roman garrison in Jerusalem. Since Mary’s gift is serving this once-for-all event, it may be impossible for us to do anything with it. There is no suggestion in Scripture that we are to imitate such a deed since Jesus is not in our presence in the same manner as he was in Bethany.
Of course, the extravagance of the gift is a problem. Since the average day worker in Israel at this time received about one denarius per day, Mary’s gift is the equivalent of almost one year’s salary. Let’s translate that into modern terms. Assuming a minimum wage of $5 per hour, one denarius would equal $40. Three hundred denarii would then be equivalent to $12,000. Imagine! Mary pours $12,000 out of an alabaster bottle in a couple of minutes, simply in an effort to cherish and honor Jesus. It is breathtaking. Surely she could have poured half the bottle and sold the rest. Maybe she could have instead sold the entire bottle and used the money to honor the work of Jesus in some way (an endowed scholarship or trust somewhere?).
Judas’s complaint would likely be echoed by virtually every church elder today. If we have that many disposable assets, perhaps we should do the godly thing and strategize how that money might advance the work of the gospel in the world. We could feed the hungry or house the homeless. Perhaps we could use the money to advance ministry or support missionaries. Other (more thoughtful) elders may argue: “Of course, if Jesus were here today as he was in Bethany, no cost would be too much. But he isn’t. And that’s the problem. Therefore we cannot duplicate the gift of Mary.” Jesus’ difficult words in 12:8 (“You will always have the poor among you, but you will not always have me”) now cannot apply. Jesus is not here, but the poor are.
For some Christians this has resulted in a spirituality that has promoted personal austerity and commitment to the poor as the highest virtues. Personal piety must be translated into personal compassion for it to have value. It may be that Jesus was trying to launch this sort of complex discussion when he told the parable of the good Samaritan. While we are quick to chastise the priest and Levite who bypass the suffering stranger, it may be that these two men were genuinely trying to do the right thing so that they might serve God.34 Jesus is not attacking the Jewish establishment in this parable, nor is he opposing priests and Levites. Neither is this a parable about failed legalism. But it asks: How do I weigh my religious priorities when it comes to serious matters of spiritual discipline (the law) and practical need (the poor)?
Evangelicals are comfortable with this discussion. We quickly point to how we sell our “nard” in order to build ministries and institutions for the kingdom. But we are less comfortable looking at this problem from another angle. In its boldest terms: Is it possible to cherish and honor Jesus today in the world in ways that seem extravagant? When an impoverished African community pools its resources in order to build a church on a scale that is “extravagant” by local standards, is this “nard” that has been wasted? In both Rumania and Palestine orthodox priests have shown me their church sanctuaries and said that this “glorious extravagance” is here to honor Jesus. Western visitors will look at the poverty surrounding the church and see such expense as misdirected. But the poor may see it otherwise.
In the West, is it possible to build a beautiful church, or simply invest in an aesthetically pleasing sanctuary, as a gesture of praise to Jesus? When I enter a European cathedral (despite the political history of the cathedrals), can I appreciate legitimately pure motives—a desire to glorify God? When a cathedral builder wants to radiate the glory of Christ behind the altar with pure gold, is there not something right about this decision? When a senior citizen in my church wants to take some of his lifelong savings and purchase an extravagant and glorious communion set for worship, is this not “nard” put to good use?
Of course there can be abuses, and that is where the debate begins. When extravagance is pursued at the expense of the ministry to the poor, there is a problem. And there may be an extravagance that discerning Christians may consider completely out of bounds. Nevertheless, I would like to argue that Mary’s gift may be something we may worthily imitate today—with caution and with discernment, of course, but nevertheless it is there. At the simplest level this tension surfaces when a church board debates refurbishing a tattered, dark sanctuary and one person piously remarks, “Jesus would have us feed the poor, not install new carpet and lights.” There it is. Mary’s nard has been sold, and another congregation has been forbidden to honor Jesus in a way that may be fitting.
Celebrating Jesus in Jerusalem. The familiar Palm Sunday story is often seen today as a pure, unblemished celebration of Jesus as he comes into Jerusalem one week before his crucifixion. There were, of course, Galilean pilgrims camped on the west side of the Mount of Olives who believed in Jesus and celebrated his arrival in the city. Today when we have our children wave palms in the pews of our churches, we are joining those pilgrims who saw Jesus and remembered the wonderful things he had done. If we had been there on that day before Passover (we say), we would have joined these voices of praise. Such praise for Jesus is appropriate. Celebrating the re-creation of this great day in Jesus’ life is something we ought to do. Luke 19:40 reminds us that if Jesus’ followers do not do this, nature itself will cry out.
But the story has another side—a side that most of us each spring do not pause to hear. Palm Sunday is a happy day, a day of flowers and dresses and new shoes. But another message carries a warning about our vision of Jesus as we celebrate. The crowd in Jerusalem had many who understood both the needs of the day and the charismatic power of Jesus. In some fashion (which perhaps they did not entirely understand) they assumed that Jesus and his movement would serve their cause. Their vision for society and Jesus’ presence could together make changes they dearly desired. As the gospel story unfolds further, Jesus’ failure to satisfy those visions (religious, political, and social) leads to a cry for crucifixion one week later.
In what manner do we likewise use Jesus to fuel our own visions for social and political change? Do we ever take up the name of Jesus and attach it to our own agendas? I recall, for instance, a gay lobbyist in the Presbyterian Church (USA) making a claim for gay ordination: “Jesus loved everyone, and today he would stand with the gay community affirming its rights in society and the church. Anyone who does not stand with us stands against Jesus.”
For conservatives it is easy to produce such an illustration and condemn it as a political misuse of the name of Christ. But things feel considerably more painful when we ask the same question about ourselves. Evangelicals likewise have agendas for social change, which they wed to their religious convictions. To be “biblical” is to affirm a platform of political commitments, and to question them is to place in jeopardy one’s theological orthodoxy. Of all the evangelical writers who have pointed this out with power and courage, Tony Campolo has done a great deal to stir the conscience of American evangelicals.35
It is tempting at this point to provide examples of evangelical misuses of Jesus’ name and illustrate the times when we have wrongly hailed Jesus as our hero.36 But to do so would simply invite a debate about the merits of the particular agenda promoted instead of leading to reflection about a phenomenon every generation must face squarely. Jesus wants our praise and celebration. But too often we only see him through the issues of the day, issues about which we are confident he stands with us.
The arrival of the Greeks. If the early Christians in Jerusalem struggled with the arrival of Gentiles after Peter’s dramatic vision in Joppa (Acts 10), imagine the stir that must have followed when suddenly in Jerusalem, non-Jews (“God-fearers”) began coming to see Jesus. If Stephen was criticized by the temple authorities because as a Hellenistic Jew he expressed openness to the wider Mediterranean world (Acts 7), imagine how Jesus’ meeting with these Greeks might jeopardize his standing with the theologians of Jerusalem. Peter or James may well have urged Jesus, “Look, if a leading Jerusalem Pharisee challenges your orthodoxy, you will lose your hard-won popularity.” For Jesus to be seen with a Greek would bring that sort of risk.
In order to understand what is at stake here, we must have some comprehension of Israel’s passionate commitment to racial purity. Beginning with Moses’ call for the Israelites to remain separate from the Canaanites, Israel remained suspicious of those who diluted Judaism’s racial identity through marriage to Philistines, Phoenicians, Persians, Greeks, or Romans. The world was divided into harsh categories: clean and unclean. And keeping oneself “clean” was a religious pursuit of the highest order.
The entry of Samaritans, God-fearers, or Gentiles, therefore, into the early church was not just a matter of racial diversity and tolerance. It was a profound theological statement that cut across the heart of one of Judaism’s primary commitments. To argue that Cornelius is indeed a child of God was one of Peter’s most dramatic moments. For the rabbi Paul to announce that he was an “apostle to the Gentiles” must have shocked his former professional peers in Jerusalem.
This is the wider context of John 12:20–26. There is tremendous risk for Jesus to meet with these Greeks who want to see him. But for John’s own church (which was likely in Ephesus), a passage like this would have been extremely useful. If John’s Ephesian church had a number of Gentiles, this story would have served as a strong reassurance. If the church had struggled with the issue of racial diversity, this passage would have been a sobering exhortation.
John 3:16 is the radical charter of Jesus’ mission. “God so loved the world . . .” means that God loves the entire world, that Christ died for the entire world (1:12, 29; 1 John 2:2). He does not reserve his affections and commitments for special races or nations. Today we may live in an era that talks openly about racial diversity, but not far beneath the surface racial divisions flourish. I have heard Edinburgh shopkeepers speak severely about “Italian tourists” (as if it were a blight to be avoided), and Greek Christians barely able to acknowledge their Turkish neighbors. Ireland, Lebanon, Israel, America, Rwanda—it is all the same. The name “Kosovo” should forever be burned into our hearts, speaking to us about what happens when ethnocentrism (and sometimes racism) is unleashed with a fury. These divisions are central to the human experience.
I have a wonderful memory of singing the very same praise songs in evangelical churches in Cairo, Egypt, Aberdeen, Scotland, Jerusalem, Israel, and Chicago. When the overhead switched on in Cairo and Arab voices (accompanied by a worship band) began singing a familiar tune in their native Arabic, one of my daughters whispered to me, “Hey! That’s our song from home.” When I heard the same song in a city on Scotland’s North Sea coast, I could not help but marvel at how the worship of Jesus has the ability to transcend culture. Jesus loves the “Greeks”—which means that he loves the “Gentile” or any person I may classify as racially different. Andrew and Philip do not object and say to these people, “I’m sorry, but our teacher does not talk to Gentiles.” Any Christian who fails to welcome a “Greek” does not understand the radical nature of Jesus’ community.
It has become commonplace to say that in America, 11:00 A.M. on Sunday is the most segregated hour of the week. If we do not understand the radical mandate of Jesus or his willingness to take the social risk of being with Greeks in the Jerusalem temple, we do not comprehend Jesus’ extreme love for the world. At the same time, we have to understand the risk. After hearing about the Greeks, Jesus immediately speaks of sacrifice and the cross. The same risks pertain to us who likewise see Jesus’ vision and take a parallel social risk of being with “Greeks” in the local evangelical church.
Belief and unbelief. When John describes the hardening of Jesus’ audiences in 12:37–41, he is not saying that God has forced into unbelief men and women who otherwise would have believed. It is wrong to conclude from 12:37–41 that John supports an extreme determinism in which God assigns otherwise neutral people to faith and others to unbelief. John’s comment here is that people who refuse to believe will experience judgment. For these men and women “the eschatological verdict has already come. For this reason they cannot believe. For them it is too late.”37 Paul has this same view in 2 Thessalonians 2:10–12 when he describes those who have aligned themselves with Satan and have refused to love the truth and be saved. “For this reason God sends them a powerful delusion so that they will believe the lie and so that all will be condemned who have not believed the truth but have delighted in wickedness.”
The significance of this is twofold. (1) It underscores the urgency of coming to faith. The natural state of the world we inhabit is darkness, which God’s light has penetrated in Christ. Those who refuse the light will find it extinguished and the darkness closing over them. (2) It assures us that when we are confronted with hardened unbelief, it does not mean that God has lost control, but that God is “active in judgment as well as in salvation.”38
These are potent words for the mission of the church. To use theological jargon, it means that the realized eschatology of John now is genuinely at work in the experience of faith. The decision to which we call people is an ultimate decision with eternal consequences. It is not an invitation to “believe” so that in the distant future we will be saved from judgment. Judgment begins now. Salvation begins now. The consequences of our decision begin to work themselves upon our lives in the present. It is like a person with a curable disease. The antibiotic begins to reverse the effects of the disease at once; without it, the doom of the infection grows daily. Jesus’ urgent words are therefore grounded in this sort of drastic framework. To refuse the medicine is to succumb to the disease. To refuse to have faith is to be swallowed by the darkness.
The implication of this section is sobering. As Jesus hid from his audiences in Jerusalem (12:36)—as God blinded those who refused the sight offered by him (12:40)—likewise, God’s judgment can fall in the present on an era and a people who have utterly rejected him.