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“...these things I speak in the world” (ταῦτα λαλῶ ἐν τῷ κόσμῳ)

“...because they are not out of the world, just as I am not out of the world” (ὅτι οὐκ εἰσὶν ἐκ τοῦ κόσμου καθὼς ἐγὼ οὐκ εἰμὶ ἐκ τοῦ κόσμου)

“...I am not asking you to take them out of the world...” (οὐκ ἐρωτῶ ἵνα ἄρῃς αὐτοὺς ἐκ τοῦ κόσμου)

“...but that you keep them out of the evil [one]” (ἀλλʼ ἵνα τηρήσῃς αὐτοὺς ἐκ τοῦ πονηροῦ)

“They are not out of the world just as I am not out of to the world” (ἐκ τοῦ κόσμου οὐκ εἰσὶν καθὼς ἐγὼ οὐκ εἰμὶ ἐκ τοῦ κόσμου)

“Just as you sent me into the world, so I sent them into the world” (κἀγὼ ἀπέστειλα αὐτοὺς εἰς τὸν κόσμον)

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Originally posted by pimple:
So how is a specially selected, close-knit fifth column at work in a society perceived as hostile not some sort of elite task force?

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Well, first of all, if anybody can join it. See "Christian church" . That sort of knocks the "elite" right out of it. Second, when the fifth column (not my choice of words, but whatever!) is acting on behalf of the ordinary citizens and against their oppressors.

I suppose the closest analogue would be the French resistance to the Nazis.

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Er, this is what I've been up to (book).
Oh, that you would rend the heavens and come down!

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Originally posted by pimple:
No. It's more like this. If this were a film, a silent Jesus with (his) prayer as a voice-over would be very moving - and possibly, no probably very effective evangelizing. But you're right in objecting to my description of the scene as modern because this isn't a film script.

Some things, some very personal things - such as the treatment of Jesus by the soldiers before his execution - are best left inexplicit. The gospels largely recognize tis, I think.

So help me out with this. Why is it when reading Chapter 17 of John's gospel I see in my mind's eye not Jesus praying to the Father, but John and some of my former friends praying to the gallery - like the Pharisees Jesus was so scornful about?

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Okay, let me start here. (We're really having difficulty connecting, maybe this will do the trick.)

Where you apparently see someone praying to the gallery, this is what I see.

I see a man who knows he's about to die. A man with human passions and fears and loves, a man who is in no way enjoying the thought of what comes next, however necessary it may be. He is about to go through the hardest and most painful experience of his life, and in fact it has already started, with the betrayal of a close friend he loves and has spent the last three four years living with. (Think about that one for a moment. Jesus chose this guy to be with him, and Jesus is not a coldblooded man in any way, as we can see from his weeping, his welcome to the children, his compassion on the crowds, his heart overflowing for the mother of the dead man at Nain---etc. etc. etc. Now Judas. Jesus loved him, he trusted him, he gave him a responsible position in the group--which has also been betrayed. Have you ever had this happen to you? I have, and it's a hell like no other--to see someone you love deliberately pick up the knife to stab you in the back, not in the heat of the moment, but with premeditated planning. It happened to me. It was planned for months ahead of time. And the ones who did it were people we loved, we had chosen, we hand-selected for positions of leadership, we had dreams about handing over the future of our work to. So.

Emotionally, Jesus has to be reeling from this. (And no, knowing it's coming doesn't help much. We had a certain amount of advance notice too before the knife came down.) He still loves Judas--you don't stop loving someone just because they've betrayed you--if you did, it'd be so much easier, emotionally speaking. And it is carrying THIS most painful raw and bloody wound that Jesus turns to comforting and preparing the remaining disciples, most of whom have no clue what just happened or what's about to happen in the next eight hours.

Jesus talks. Jesus gives them his own body and blood in the Supper, though I doubt they understood much of what was going on at the time. And then he does the only thing left to him--the last act of any believing, loving, about-to-die human being--which is to entrust his family--yes, his family--to God's care. Since he won't be around to do this personally anymore! (Yes, it's hubris. deal with it. )

Now I'm wondering--have you ever been present for THAT sort of prayer? The prayer of a family around a deathbed. The prayer of an immigrant leaving family behind that he may never see again. The prayer of a missionary about to return home, leaving the people he loves and has had his life entwined with for years and years.

There is no room for playing to the gallery in such a prayer. There IS no gallery present anyway. Just a man (or woman) and the dearly beloved people he/she is leaving behind. Close kin, closer than blood and breath, how can he bear to go and leave them? But he must. Immediately. And so he gathers them for the last best thing he can do--to pray and entrust them into the hands of the God who will watch over both while they are separated.

Most of the prayers I've been in of this sort have involved what is basically a group embrace. People standing in a circle, heads bowed, arms around their neighbors, while the engine of the car or plane warms up. People forming a circle around the head of a hospital bed, touching foreheads or hands or knees through the blanket, hanging on to the last moments together, entrusting the ones they love to the Lord.

I have no idea whether it was like that for Jesus and the eleven. It wouldn't surprise me, really. It's a human pattern repeated in all generations. Such prayers are usually simple in wording (this one is, too) and they are always said out loud, because those gathered are drawing comfort from their union in the Lord. Both the prayers and the prayees find that comfort. Which can only happen if they hear it, of course.

You may say I'm reading a lot into it--that nothing specifically says Jesus was feeling such-and-such an emotion at the time, or was deliberately taking leave of his loved ones in prayer. That's okay. I recognize the genre of this prayer, because I've been there for these prayers, I've prayed them myself with those I love. That's why I think I'm correctly supplying the emotional context for John 17. It's so very very familiar. And the events of Jesus' passion surrounding the prayer only confirm my impressions from the words.

Nobody grandstands or plays to the gallery under those circumstances. About to die, with nobody present but the eleven friends you've been sleeping and eating and bathing with for several years-there's nobody around to impress. They know you, right? They've seen you changing your underwear (well, loincloth or whatever). They know you snore and fart and burp. They've seen you Sunday, yes, and Monday and Tuesday and Friday night as well. It's a waste of time to try to impress them. Particularly when you're about to die and there's nothing to be gained from ego-stroking anyway.

That is why I don't see this as the playing-to-the-gallery crap your old acquaintances apparently pulled on Sunday mornings. That kind of shit only works when a) you expect to be around long-term to take in all the ego-stroking benefits of having people impressed with you ("oooh, what a great church leader!"), and b) nobody ever gets close enough to you (on Monday, Tuesday, Friday night at the club) to discover that you have embarrassing human weaknesses too. Neither of those are the case with Jesus in John 17.

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Er, this is what I've been up to (book).
Oh, that you would rend the heavens and come down!

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Originally posted by pimple:
Baggage again, probably. The Jesus of John is so unlike the Jesus I grew up to love. And that's part of why I'm hanging out here. To deal with John properly I have to read it it and read it all and not give up.

One good way of doing that is to write it out and this is a convenient place to do it. I started out with the very condescending attitude that of all those good Christians who claim to love the gospel of John, I doubt if many of them have read the whole thing (crediting them with my own impatience, perhaps). And it seemed to me that a
clever way of testing whether they did really love it - all of it - would be to keep he thread going and see just how many of them can stomach it. Where are the hoards of loving Christians ("love" appears more in John's gospel than in any other) eager to share their delight in it? Are they not significant by their absence? Or have I frightened them all away? Perhaps they think scepticism is dangerous - something they might catch from someone unsound in the faith? All I'm hostile to, LC, is the smug, self-satisfied attitude of those who want to regard ten scattered verses of a gospel or two as slam-dunk evidence for the justification of their narrow perspectives.

I'm not really that nasty. I get carried away...

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Well, first let me say that I don't mind the attitude. I may call you on it once in a while, but it doesn't disturb me personally. Better an engaged person with attitude than a half-asleep "whatever you say" deadhead in the pew. You know?

And then I'm a missionary. I LIKE people who are unconverted, half-converted, de-converted, whatever. I don't do well in a Christian fishbowl.

Now as to those who claim to love John. I can't speak for others, duh, but I'm one of them, and I'm here. And I'm here largely because John IS my favorite Gospel, and that particularly because of the love I see in Jesus, both in action and in words, in this Gospel. (I like Luke a lot too, but we're talking about John right now.)

[You know, one reason you may not see much action on this thread may have nothing to do with John at all. It's simply that the thread has been going on since what, 2010? Take a look at the "Torah Nonstop" threads and see how tired out everybody is. It's just human to get that way, no matter how fascinating the subject.]

But back to John.

Here's some of what I see in John that makes me love this Gospel. In no particular order.

There's the wedding at Cana--Jesus attending an ordinary human celebration of the sort that many sages would turn up their noses at, complete with wine and merrymaking and noise. And look how kindly and unobtrusively he steps in to make sure the party continues. (the humor with his mother is a nice touch--she knew she was going to get her way, ha). And nobody even realizes what he's done but the servants, not till way afterward. He lets the bridegroom take the credit.

Nicodemus coming to Jesus by night--but how kind of Jesus, don't you think? I mean, here's this big important Sanhedrin type who is apparently too scared of his peers to show up at a decent hour to talk to Jesus, so he does this hugger mugger routine that both disturbs Jesus' sleep and is in a certain sense a bit of an insult to him. But Jesus doesn't refuse him. He has a nice little theological discussion with him (ha! shades of the seminary ) and leaves the man going what? but still greatly impressed. Enough to become a follower later on, and bury Jesus in spite of the dangers attached to that.

Then there's the woman at the well. Jesus is again tired (sort of a theme in the Gospels, isn't it?) but he makes time to talk to this halfbreed social outcast female with a bit of a mouth on her (and think how his Jewish male compatriots would take that! horrors). He treats her with as much respect as he would any respectable Jewish matron, and entrusts her with the secret he's spoken openly to no one else: "I am the Messiah." [and Jesus' behavior, remarkable as it is for a man of his times, is apparently so characteristic of him that his disciples already know better than to ask him why he's talking to her. That's just the way Jesus is, shrug.

Here comes a desperate father. To him Jesus gives the one thing that matters most: "Your son will live." Short and sweet.

Now a man who's been sick for 38 years, lying on a pad hoping for a miracle at the pool of Bethesda. Well, he gets one (and apparently him only of the whole crowd, which is odd). Even more odd, because Jesus goes out of his way to find him later on and warn him to mend his ways lest something worse happen to him. Which sounds very much as if his original problem had been a direct result of some sin, something Jesus never implies with anybody else. Why pick such a man as your sole example of healing that day? Love? Compassion, certainly. And it was repaid as usual--the man goes off like a fool and lets Jesus' enemies have a little more rhetorical ammunition to use against him. Sigh. Not that I think Jesus regretted the healing! But if it had been me, I'd have been very cross.

The chapters of argumentation are interesting, though the emphasis on love is more or less in the background--or rather, that love is expressed through the strongest possible warning to people Jesus regards as being in mortal danger. Enough said. But would you want a wimpy Jesus?

We come to Lazarus and his sisters. However you slice it (and I know your views are nontraditional), here you have a man who cares deeply for this family, who attempts to help in time of need, and who is not ashamed to be seen weeping for them. And they naturally reciprocate--Martha cooks and cleans for Jesus and the group, and Mary does that lovely thing with the perfume over his head--which immediately pulls a discordant note from Judas. But Jesus defends Mary, and publicly praises her (yes, another humble woman) in spite of the fact that one of his chosen twelve (and a man!) is making pious noises in her disfavor. That took guts.

Now his actions to Judas. First the warning about his attitude which we see in the episode with Mary. Then, though he certainly became aware of Judas' intentions sometime before the Last Supper, he makes no effort to expose him or, er, to neutralize him. (You know he could have had a word with Simon the Zealot if he'd been so minded.) No, Jesus gives Judas time to change his mind. He gives him another very clear warning at the last supper itself, and honors him with the sop. Judging by who was able to talk sotto voce to whom, it appears Jesus even gave Judas the place of honor right next to him. He washed his feet. None of it mattered. But is this not love?

Then we get the final words of Jesus during the supper, and these are the ones I return to again and again when I'm in deep distress and need to hear the sound of love. He comforts them; he promises them they will not be left alone; He promises to return; his very words place them not as his servants but as his friends, his brothers. And having said all that he can say, with time running out, he uses his last minutes to pray for them. To entrust them to the Father, who will continue to guard them as Jesus can no longer do.

This is love. And this is why I seek out John's gospel--no, Jesus as I see him IN John's gospel--again and again and again.

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Er, this is what I've been up to (book).
Oh, that you would rend the heavens and come down!

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Originally posted by pimple:
Where are the hoards of loving Christians ("love" appears more in John's gospel than in any other) eager to share their delight in it? Are they not significant by their absence? Or have I frightened them all away? Perhaps they think scepticism is dangerous - something they might catch from someone unsound in the faith?

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After Jesus had spoken these words, he went out with his disciples across the Kidron valley to a place where there was a garden, which he and his disciples entered.

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Now Judas, who betrayed him, also knew the place, Because Jesus often met there with his disciples.

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So Judas brought a detachment of soldiers together with police from the chief priests and the Pharisees, and they came there with lanterns and weapons and torches.

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Originally posted by pimple:
That's an interesting question. I think it might be answered later on in the text. The authorities were scared of a day-time arrest, weren't they - because of the possibility of a pro-Jesus riot. I'm sure I read that somewhere.

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Originally posted by pimple:
As for protecting his followers, that's also ambiguous. The synoptics have Jesus wanting his disciples to stay awake to pray with him, and also giving would-be adherents the uncompromising charge of "anyone who wants to save his life must lose it" and "take up his cross and follow me".

I don't see that as a big problem. Different sayings at different times.

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4 Then Jesus, knowing all that was to happen to him, came forward and asked them, "Whom are you looking for?" 5 They answered, Jesus of Nazareth" [Gk Jesus the Nazorean] Jesus replied, "I am he." [Gk "I am"] Judas, who betrayed him, was standing with them.

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Originally posted by Mamacita:
I'm not sure what you mean by that last sentence, pimple; would you be willing to clarify?

There are two things I find interesting in this passage. One is the repetition of the modifier, "Judas, who betrayed him." The writer wants to be sure we don't forget who did it. The level of enmity towards Judas seems considerable!

But earlier in the sentence, we have Jesus, "knowing all that was going to happen to him." Jesus the Christ, the pre-existent Word, omniscient: John leaves no doubt.

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6 When Jesus said to them, "I am he", they stepped back and fell to the ground. 7 Again he asked them "Whom are you looking for?" And they said, "Jesus of Nazareth". 8 Jesus answered, "I told you that I am he" [Gk "I am"] So if you are looking for me, let these men go." 9 This was to fulfil the word that he had spoken, "I did not lose a single one of those you gave me."

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10 Then Simon Peter, who had a sword, drew it, struck the high priest's slave, and cut off his right ear. The slave's name was Malchus.

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Originally posted by pimple:
The stuff about the sword puzzles many people. Why were they armed? Did or did not Jesus authorise it? And why was Peter not arrested on the spot, regardless of the fact that Jesus was the prime target?

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The context of the time (based on similar settings today) suggests that the carrying of a personal utility bladed device would have been advantageous when it came to preparing food, particularly for a team on the move. I doubt food came pre-prepared much at the time, more likely fish needed filleting, lambs needed beheading, etc. And in remoter areas the threat from wild animals might also motivate the carrying of something by way of protection.
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I suspect, then, that Simon “The Blade” Peter had about his person the sort of knife / dirk that a fisherman would carry in case he came upon a severe case of a fish that needed a good fillet. When it came to Jesus' arrest, I imagine this would suit better a hand-to-hand grappling type of activity, where the guard laid hands on Jesus and Peter laid hands on him, one thing led to another... If a full-blown sword had been used I'd have thought a severed ear would have been the least of the guard's worry: skewered skull or sliced shoulder blade would have been on the menu as well.

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Originally posted by Lamb Chopped:
Pretty hard to arrest a man when the primary evidence for his attack has vanished. (And whining "but Jesus HEALED him!" would tend to undermine their other case, which is a prosecution for blasphemy. Since when does God give blasphemers divine gifts of healing?)

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Jesus said to Peter, "Put your sword back into its sheath. Am I not to drink the cup that the Father has given me?"

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So the soldiers, their officer, and the Jewish police arrested Jesus and bound him. First they took him to Annas, who was the father-in-law of Caiaphas, the high priest that year. Caiaphas was the one who had advised the Jews that it was better to have one person die for the people.

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