Before we pass on, however, it may be convenient at this point to
consider, on the assumption that the author of the Gospel was really an
eye-witness of the events, what are the indications as to his personal
identity. If we confine ourselves to those contained in the Gospel
itself, it would not follow with any stringency that he was the Apostle
John the son of Zebedee. The portion of the Gospel that contributes most
to the identification is the last chapter, the scene by the Sea of
Galilee, where we are expressly told that the sons of Zebedee were
present (xxi. 2). But we are also told that there were two other
disciples of whom the author of the Gospel may have been one. If we
begin by supposing—and the supposition is very natural—that in order to
stand in the intimate relation in which he appears to have stood to
Christ, the author must have been an Apostle, then by a process of
elimination we should arrive at St. John; and it is no doubt an
important fact that in this way internal and external evidence would
converge upon the same result. But if we look at some sides of the
internal evidence, and bring in only a select few of the indications
from without, another hypothesis that has been actually put forward
would have great claims upon our attention. It is not on the face of it
certain that ‘the disciple whom Jesus loved’ must have been one of the
Twelve. He may have been what might perhaps be called a sort of
_supernumerary_ Apostle. I mean that he may have been one who although,
perhaps on account of his youth, not actually admitted to the number of
the Twelve, yet had all—and even more than all—of their privileges. We
have been led to think of the beloved disciple as a youth who, so far as
he could help it, never left his Master’s side. We should only have to
subtract a couple of years, and the young Apostle of eighteen or twenty
would become a stripling—highly favoured, though not an Apostle—of
sixteen to eighteen, or even fifteen to seventeen.
I am not sure that this point of the youthfulness that may be attributed
to the beloved disciple was much brought out by the author of the
theory. And yet it would be a real advantage. We are told that the John
who wrote the Gospel lived till the time of Trajan (i. e. till 98 A.D.).
In that case, if he were born about 11 or 12 A.D., he need not have been
more than eighty-six or eighty-seven at the time of his death; the main
body of the Gospel might quite well have been written (probably from
dictation) eight or ten years earlier, and the Appendix (chap. xxi)
added when the writer felt his strength beginning to fail. All these
would be quite reasonable dates; whereas if the writer was a full adult
in the years 27-9, that would make him rather old by the end of the
century. We must keep down the dates as much as we rightly can.
But it is time that I gave a fuller account of the theory of which I am
speaking, as it was put forward by its author—in some ways a rather
eccentric person—the late Dr. Delff of Husum. I will try at the same
time, as well as I can, to balance the arguments for and against it.
Dr. Delff is not content with distinguishing the beloved disciple from
the Apostle. For him the former is no Galilean at all but a native of
Jerusalem; he is not a fisherman, but a member of the higher
aristocracy, not only acquainted with the high priest but himself
belonging to one of the high-priestly families. It was through this
connexion that Polycrates, bishop of Ephesus, came to make the
remarkable statement about him that he wore the frontlet or golden plate
(τὸ πέταλον) of the high priest (Eus. _H. E._ iii. 31. 3).
It will be seen that this is a bold reconstruction; but in this case the
boldness has a good deal of justification. There are a number of very
tangible data which the theory works up into a coherent whole.
i. The theory might be said to take its start from John xviii. 15, ‘And
Simon Peter followed Jesus, and so did another disciple. Now that
disciple was known unto the high priest, and entered in with Jesus into
the court of the high priest.’ It is natural to suppose that the unnamed
disciple here is the same whose presence is hinted at so mysteriously
throughout the Gospel. But, if that is so, the relation in which he is
said to stand to the high priest explains at once a series of facts. It
explains how it was that the Evangelist came to know that the name of
the high priest’s servant, whose ear had been cut off, was Malchus; and
also how it was that he came to recognize one of those who questioned
Peter as a kinsman of this Malchus. It explains again the special
information that the Evangelist seems to have about Nicodemus, a member
of the Sanhedrin, who is mentioned by name in three different contexts
in the Gospel. Along with this it would explain the special information
which the Evangelist also seems to possess as to what went on at
meetings, and even secret meetings, of the Sanhedrin. We have a graphic
account of the debate at one such meeting in vii. 45-52, and again in
xi. 47-53; and the Gospel has some precise details not found elsewhere
as to the part played by Annas, as well as Caiaphas, in the preliminary
examination of our Lord.
This whole group of facts is in any case one of which we must take
notice. In any case it forms an important element in the portrait that
we are to construct for ourselves of the Evangelist, even if we suppose
him to be the son of Zebedee. There is no antecedent reason why Zebedee
and his sons should not have had friends, and even friends in high
places, in Jerusalem. It would seem that Zebedee himself was a person of
substance: he has ‘hired servants’ with him in the ship, and Salome—if
that is the name of his wife—was one of those who contributed to the
support of Jesus and His disciples. We must also remember that the
practice of a trade or handicraft was not held to be derogatory among
the Jews as it was among the Greeks and Romans. There is, however, also
the other possibility that the acquaintance of the Evangelist with the
high priest is not to be taken too strictly, but that it meant rather
acquaintance with some member of his household. The account of what
happened to Peter might well seem to be told from the point of view of
what we should describe as the servants’ hall.
ii. Another set of phenomena which Delff’s theory at once explains is
the extent to which the Gospel is concerned with events that happened in
Jerusalem and Judaea. Delff himself carries out this with a logical
severity that hardly seems necessary. He cuts out all the Galilean
incidents in the Gospel as later insertions. Even so he cannot be quite
thorough enough, because he leaves the latter half of chap. i, which
introduces to us the unnamed disciple in the company of Andrew and
Peter, natives of Bethsaida. This disciple and Peter were evidently
friends: they lodged together in Jerusalem (xx. 2) and go together to
the tomb, and they each take an affectionate interest in the other (xxi.
20).
This last point is in agreement with the way in which Peter and John are
found acting together in the other Gospels and in the Acts (Mark v. 37,
&c.; Acts iii. 1, 11; iv. 13; viii. 14; cf. Gal. ii. 9). On the other
hand the scene at the foot of the cross (John xix. 26, 27) would seem to
be rather in favour of the Jerusalem theory, especially if we are to
connect the words, ‘And from that hour the disciple took her unto his
own (home),’ with the tradition that John had a house in Jerusalem.
iii. In another direction Delff’s theory fits in well with some portions
of the patristic evidence. We have seen how it would account for the
curious expression used by Polycrates (_circa_ 195 A.D.). Delff thinks
that the beloved disciple must have actually performed the functions of
the high priest. The high priest only wore his full dress on the Day of
Atonement, but on an emergency his place might be taken for him by a
substitute; and it is in this capacity that John of Ephesus is supposed
to have acted. That does not on the face of it appear very probable; but
we can more easily conceive that in the early days, before liturgical
details were settled, and when the Christian Church had not yet wholly
outgrown its Jewish antecedents, one who had the blood of high priests
in his veins might on some solemn occasion (e. g. at Easter) have
assumed a part of his distinctive dress.
iv. Yet another alleged point in the testimony of Papias would be
explained on this theory, and is not easily explained on the view which
identifies the John who wrote the Gospel with the son of Zebedee. Since
the publication of De Boor’s Fragment (Cod. Barocc. 142[39]) we have two
authorities instead of one for the express statement that Papias in his
second book asserted that both the sons of Zebedee were ‘slain by the
Jews.’ When attention was first called to this statement, the tendency
among scholars was to explain it away, to suppose that there had been
some corruption of the text, or some confusion between John the Baptist
and John the son of Zebedee. Of course there may have been something of
the kind; and yet the statement is quite explicit as it stands, and one
does not like emending away just the words that cause a difficulty.
Hence there is an increasing tendency among scholars to regard the
statement as having some real foundation. Schwartz, the editor of
Eusebius, has lately put forth a monograph[40], the whole argument of
which turns on the assumption that the statement is true. If it were
true, the prediction of our Lord in Mark x. 38, 39, will have been
literally fulfilled: both the sons of Zebedee will have suffered ‘red
martyrdom,’ and not one red and one white. Wellhausen is among those who
think that this was probably the case.
v. Now Schwartz assumes that if John perished by the sword like his
brother James, he did so at the same time and at the hands of Herod
Agrippa I, in the year 41. Of course he can only do this by throwing
over the data in the Acts, which I do not think that he is warranted in
doing. I have little doubt that the John who was still a pillar of the
Church at the time referred to in Gal. ii. 9 was the son of Zebedee. But
it is quite credible that he may have perished, if not at the same time
as James the Elder, yet about the same time as James the Brother of the
Lord, or in the troublous times which preceded the destruction of
Jerusalem.
vi. If the younger son of Zebedee had died in this or some other way,
there would be nothing to prevent us from supposing that the John who
took up his abode at Ephesus was the beloved disciple. And it would
really simplify the history, and make everything more compact, if we
could suppose that the beloved disciple, and the John who wrote the
Gospel and Epistles, and the John who appears to have called himself,
and to have been called by others ‘the Presbyter,’ were one and the same
person.
vii. It is a remarkable fact that some of our best authorities, while
they leave no doubt as to the identification of the John who figured so
conspicuously at Ephesus with the beloved disciple, abstain from
expressions that would identify him with the son of Zebedee. Irenaeus
most often calls him ‘the disciple of the Lord,’ which we remember is
the very phrase used by Papias of the Presbyter. He also more than once
describes him as having lain upon the breast of the Lord, but he nowhere
(I believe) speaks of him as one of the Twelve or as the son of Zebedee.
Polycrates uses the same designation, ‘John who lay upon the breast of
the Lord’; and the Muratorian Fragment speaks of him as ‘one of the
disciples’: but neither of these witnesses ever calls him an Apostle.
Irenaeus, however, does perhaps hint at this title where he says that
the Church at Ephesus, ‘having been founded by Paul, and John having
resided among them until the time of Trajan, is a true witness of the
tradition of the Apostles’ (Eus. _H. E._ iii. 23. 4). Clement of
Alexandria also and Tertullian unequivocally call John an Apostle.
viii. If these expressions had stood alone, there need be no great
difficulty. We may be pretty sure that the beloved disciple, even if he
had not been one of the original Twelve, would be called an Apostle in
the wider sense, like St. Paul and St. Barnabas and James the Brother of
the Lord. And it would be only natural that he should seem to step into
the place of the older John (on the hypothesis of his martyrdom), just
as James the Lord’s Brother in a manner stepped into the place of the
older James.
It is worth while to bear in mind that the title ‘Apostle’ was used more
freely in the early days of the Church than we are in the habit of using
it. It was not till about the end of the second century that (except in
the case of St. Paul and St. Barnabas and one or two others) it came to
be as a rule narrowed down to the Twelve. In the earliest usage of all
the word had its proper meaning of ‘one who is sent on a mission.’ But
this usage was gradually lost sight of, and it took the place of the
primitive μαθητής.
In view of this history of the terms, it will be understood how easily
one who was in the position of the beloved disciple would come to be
spoken of as an Apostle, and in time to be confused with the older
Apostles who bore the same name. In such a process there would be no
need, as Harnack does, to bring in the hypothesis of fraud; every step
in the process would be really innocent and natural. Harnack of course
gets into his difficulties by minimizing the designation ‘disciple of
the Lord’ as applied to John the Presbyter, who is also John of Ephesus.
One who stood to the Lord in the relation of the beloved disciple would
have a right to the name Apostle which the Presbyter, as Harnack
conceives him, would not.
ix. So far it would seem that a really strong case can be made out for
distinguishing the Evangelist from the son of Zebedee and identifying
him with the beloved disciple. My wish is not to make out a case either
way, but to state the facts as impartially as I can. From this point of
view, there seem to be two serious difficulties in the way of Delff’s
hypothesis.
The first is that it puts asunder two sets of phenomena that we feel
sure ought to be combined. We have seen that the Gospel represents the
beloved disciple and St. Peter as close friends. And we have also seen
that the other Gospels, the Acts and, we might add, the Epistle to the
Galatians, represent St. Peter and St. John as constantly acting
together. It may indeed just be said that this joint action is a sort of
official relation, which is a different thing from the private
friendship implied in the Gospel. And yet we cannot doubt that the more
natural and obvious view would be to regard the later relation as the
direct continuation of the earlier, and so to identify the beloved
disciple with the leading Apostle. Delff’s theory would make two pairs,
who would be too much the doubles of each other.
x. And another difficulty, or set of difficulties, turns round the
statement of De Boor’s Fragment. It is certainly strange that this
statement appears in no other early authority, and especially that no
hint of it is found in Eusebius. I am not sure that this would weigh
with me so much as it would with others, because I always discount the
argument from silence, even where it is apparently strong, as it is in
the present instance.
But there is something more than silence. The common tradition of the
church did not ascribe to St. John a violent death. And we cannot escape
the inference by saying that the common tradition relates to John of
Ephesus and not to the son of Zebedee; because the earliest authority
for the tradition, the Apocryphal Acts of John, a second-century work,
without any ambiguity identifies the two.
xi. We might perhaps sum up the whole case thus.
The Life of the Evangelist falls into three periods: first, the period
covered by the Gospel in which he appears as the beloved disciple; then,
at the end of his career, the period during which he appears as John of
Ephesus: and, between these two, the period of some forty years which
connects them together. Now we might say of Delff’s theory, that it
gives a quite satisfactory account of the first period, and also in most
ways of the last, and that in particular it enables us to work in the
statement as to the death of the two sons of Zebedee; but that its
difficulties come out chiefly in regard to the connexion between the
first stage of the history and the last.
On the other hand, the common view gives what I think is really on the
whole as good an account of the first period, and raises no special
difficulties as to the second, but it does leave some obscurities which
with our present knowledge it is difficult to clear away as to the
third. And it also leaves the alleged statement of Papias an enigma for
which we have no certain solution.
At the same time, although the cohesion is on either view not quite
complete, it is in each case far too complete to be rejected in the
interests of an agnosticism which only presents no target for objections
because it has no tangible form or substance.
Footnote 33:
The division of opinion in this case is among the more radical critics
themselves. H. J. Holtzmann, Schmiedel, and Professor Bacon are on the
one side: Jülicher, Wrede, and Wernle are on the other; and in each of
these instances the opinion is thoroughly characteristic; the subtle
and acute minds are ranged against those that are stronger on the side
of what we should call plain common sense.
Footnote 34:
_Chronologie_, &c., p. 676.
Footnote 35:
Letter to the Rev. William Unwin, dated Oct. 31, 1779.
Footnote 36:
_Character_, &c., p. 387.
Footnote 37:
For the proof see especially Lightfoot.
Footnote 38:
_On a Fresh Revision of the New Testament_ (1871), pp. 72, 73.
Footnote 39:
_Texte u. Untersuch._ v. 2, p. 170. The other authority is a single
MS. (but the oldest and most interesting) of the ninth-century writer
Georgius Monachus or Georgius Hamartolus (ed. De Boor, p. 447
[Ἰωάννης] μαρτυρίου κατηξίωται, where the other MSS. have ἐν εἰρήνη
ἀνεπαύσατο). The question of the relation of the texts is judiciously
discussed by De Boor (Preface, pp. lx-lxxi), but the fuller statement
of particulars is reserved for a third volume.
Footnote 40:
_Ueber den Tod der Söhne Zebedaei_ (Berlin, 1904).
LECTURE IV
THE PRAGMATISM OF THE GOSPEL
Different Kinds of Precision in Detail.
I hope the title that I have given to this lecture is not an
affectation. The word ‘Pragmatism’ is more common in German than in
English. In English it is chiefly used as the name for a particular kind
of philosophy which lays stress upon conduct or practice rather than
theory. But we want the word, or something like it, in criticism as well
as in philosophy. We want a word which shall express a tendency in a
given writer or a given book, without begging any questions as to the
relation between this tendency in the mind of the writer and the facts
that he professes to describe; I mean the tendency to throw his thoughts
into the form of concrete pictorial history, whether that history is
real or imagined. It is in this sense that I use the word: I use it to
describe a very marked characteristic of the Fourth Gospel, the
abundance of detail—to all appearance precise detail—with which it
presents its pictures. But I do not as yet say anything further as to
the nature of this detail or the inference to be drawn from it.
One of the most uncompromising critics of the Gospel[41] calls this
apparent precision, more especially in the notes of place and time, a
‘trump-card’ in the hands of the defenders of the Gospel. He goes on to
give a meagre list, just of some of these notes of place and time, and
nothing else. His only comment on them is that they ‘fail to impart to
the presentation life, colour, and movement.’ As though life, in the
sense of active life, and movement were the only guarantees of reality.
It is true that St. John is not what we should call a dramatic writer;
his narrative has not rapidity of movement. He is contemplative rather
than energetic, and yet he has a quiet intensity of vision that is in
its way not less valuable. He must be judged according to his type: we
do not (e. g.) apply to a Maeterlinck the same sort of measure as to a
Stanley Weyman.
Wrede’s is a specimen of what I consider poor criticism. It is in
striking contrast to that which Dr. Drummond has devoted to the same
subject. Dr. Drummond discusses in his judicial manner this phenomenon
that I have called ‘Pragmatism.’ He begins by noting how the writer
‘specifies particular days, for no apparent reason except that he
remembered them, and sometimes even mentions the hour. He often names
the disciple who was the speaker, even when the remark is not of great
consequence.’ We have said enough on this part of the subject. But he
not only specifies times and persons but also places, with which he
connects various incidents, ‘frequently for no discoverable reason
beyond the fact itself.’ Then again there is, generally speaking, the
graphic character of the work. On this Dr. Drummond has some
discriminating remarks:—
‘The Gospel is sometimes spoken of as though it were a monotonous
unfolding of the Logos doctrine, and brought before us a number of
shadowy puppets, marked by no distinguishing features. I cannot but
think that this view is partly owing to the prepossession of
critical dogmatism, but partly also to the identity of style and
tone which, wherever you may open the book, at once betrays the
author. The simplicity is not the simplicity of Genesis or Homer, in
which we forget all but the persons and events that are brought
before us; the dramatic power is not that of Shakespeare, in which
the author is hidden behind his own creations. On the contrary,
everything seems more or less transfused with the individuality of
the writer; and I think this fact sometimes causes us to overlook
the wonderful variety of character that passes before us, and the
graphic nature of some of the descriptions, which imprints the
scenes for evermore on the imagination’ (_The Character and
Authorship_, &c., p. 376).
I am not sure that we might not say that, so far as the narrative is
concerned, the simplicity is really like that of Genesis: there is a
Biblical style of narration, which descended down the centuries, and
which the writer has thoroughly assimilated. But then his own
personality must be added to this, and there was much more in his mind
besides the impulse of simple narration. It is, as we shall see, the
discourses, and especially the longer discourses, in which this personal
element comes out most strongly, and which make it seem so dominant. But
Dr. Drummond is certainly right in laying stress on the ‘variety of
character that passes before us, and the graphic nature of some of the
descriptions.’
But when he has said this, Dr. Drummond turns round upon himself, and
proceeds to discount the inference that might be drawn from these
characteristics of the Gospel. While allowing that they fit in
excellently with the external evidence, he will not urge them as an
independent proof of authorship, because ‘the introduction of names and
details is quite in accordance with the usage of Apocryphal
composition.’
This is true, and the examples given are quite to the point. The
Apocryphal Gospels and Acts are plentifully sprinkled with names. We
observe, however, that names of places are somewhat less common than
names of persons; and where there is any real precision in the use of
place-names, an inference in regard to the author may often be fairly
deduced from it, and as a matter of fact has in a number of cases been
successfully so deduced[42]. It would be unsafe to draw a conclusion
simply from the presence of precise details. But all details are not
alike; and when they come to be critically tested, they will soon be
found to fall into two classes—one that admits of verification and is
valuable, and the other that is soon exposed as worthless.
One of the parallels for the Fourth Gospel specially put forward from
this point of view was the Apocryphal Gospel of Matthew, and I took some
little pains to test this in the pages of the _Expositor_ (1892, pp. 172
ff.). It was quickly found to teem with anachronisms and confusions.
Professing to describe the circumstances of the birth of the Virgin
Mary, it spoke of her father’s almsgiving in terms borrowed from the
practice of the Christian Church. There were supposed to be schools for
girls in the Temple, modelled upon the convent schools of the fifth
century. The father and mother of the Virgin were represented as meeting
at the ‘Golden Gate’ of the Temple. A gate bearing that name may be seen
at the present day; but it probably owes its name to a corruption
(_aurea_ = ὡραία); and though the modern gate, which can be traced back
to the time of Heraclius, is supposed to represent the Beautiful Gate of
Herod’s Temple, it certainly occupies a different position. The Gospel
contains a developed legend of the Descent into Egypt, which is also
garnished with topographical details. These, however, cannot be worked
into a consistent itinerary, and an official title introduced into the
story belongs rather to the period after Constantine than to the time of
Augustus.
Does the Fourth Gospel present anything at all analogous to this? One or
two mistakes have been attributed to the author which are not seriously
maintained at the present time. The only supposed anachronism that does
not stand refuted is one recently put forward by Furrer the eminent
geographer. In an interesting article on the topographical data in the
Gospel[43] he gives them in general the praise of accuracy. He himself,
however, regards the Gospel as a work of the second century, and he sees
an indication of this in the name ‘Sea of Tiberias’ for ‘Sea of Galilee’
or ‘of Gennesaret.’ Dr. Furrer points out that this last form (‘Sea of
Gennesar’ or ‘Gennesaritis’) is found in the writers of the first
century, while ‘Sea of Tiberias’ became the regular designation in the
second century, and from that time onwards. It is found in the Greek
writer Pausanias (who wrote in the middle of the century, under Hadrian
and the Antonines), and consistently in the Talmud. We may observe that
in any case the Gospel was written quite late in the first century; and
the way in which the name is introduced the first time it is mentioned
would seem to point exactly to the period of transition from the one
form to the other. John vi. 1 runs thus: ‘After these things Jesus went
away to the other side of the sea of Galilee, which is the sea of
Tiberias’ (πέραν τῆς θαλάσσης τῆς Γαλιλαίας τῆς Τιβερίαδος). There is
perhaps something a little awkward and unusual in the apposition, which,
however, does not justify the striking out of one of the two names as a
gloss, against all the authorities[44].
Another point made by Furrer is that in xii. 21 Bethsaida is called
‘Bethsaida of Galilee,’ whereas, according to Josephus, Galilee ended
with the right bank of the Jordan, and Bethsaida is on the left bank.
Josephus, however, is by no means precise in his usage, as he twice
speaks of Gamala as in Galilee, which is much further away on the other
side of the lake.
Professor von Dobschütz treats as an anachronism the allusions (John ix.
22; xii. 42) to expulsion from the synagogue as practised upon the
followers of Jesus during His lifetime. But this is surely very
gratuitous. Partly the argument goes upon the assumption that the
extreme penalty must have been always inflicted. Partly it seems to
imply that excommunication was too great a punishment for the disciples,
at the very time when death itself was threatened against the Master.
I hardly know whether I ought to mention as a fourth example, that is at
the present time seriously alleged, the notion that the phrase ‘being
high priest that year’ (xi. 49, 51), is derived from the fact that the
Asiarch acting as high priest in the worship of the Emperor held office
for a single year[45]. It is far more probable that the phrase is
connected with the deep sense which the writer of the Fourth Gospel
shows of the significance of particular times. I take it to be the
counterpart of the often recurring words, ‘the hour had not yet come,’
‘the hour is come.’
So that the four precarious examples really shrink up to one, the first,
and that is explainable without any straining. There is no anachronism;
but at the time when the Evangelist wrote the usage was changing, and he
was aware of this, and expressed the fact in his text.
And now let us consider what there is to be said on the other side—_for_
the Gospel from this same point of view of truth to a particular period.
Is the Fourth Gospel in the main true to the period which it professes
to describe?
This is a question that should not be difficult to answer. It should be
less difficult than in the case of most periods, because as a rule one
period shades gradually and imperceptibly into another, and there is a
more or less prolonged transition. But the history of Judaism and
Christianity in the first century of our era is not like this. There we
have one great catastrophe standing out in the boldest possible way and
dividing what goes before from what comes after. The destruction of
Jerusalem by Titus completely altered the conditions of Judaism, and
altered no less the conditions of Christianity both in itself and in
relation to Judaism. We have to remember that Judaism as it existed up
to that date—from the time of Josiah to the year 70 A.D.—had been the
most centralized religion of the ancient world. Its system of worship,
its hierarchy, and what remained to it of self-government, all had a
single centre in the holy place and the holy city, the temple and
Jerusalem. It is true that there was the newer institution of
synagogues, which was destined to play such an important part in the
Judaism of the future; but this was as yet quite subordinate, existing
side by side with the temple worship, but not consciously regarded as a
substitute for it.
Now with one single stroke the whole of this temple system, the
hierarchy, and the Sanhedrin, as hitherto constituted, came to an end.
It was not that it went on with modifications, but it was destroyed root
and branch.
At the same time Christianity broke loose from Judaism more thoroughly
than it had ever done before. Henceforth the dominant forces in the
Church were Gentile, not Jewish. In particular the last shreds of the
idea of a political Messiah were thrown off.
These considerations supply us with abundant means of testing the
picture of the time that we have in the Fourth Gospel. We can easily
determine whether its features correspond to the state of things in the
first half of the first century or at its end. What we have chiefly to
ask ourselves is, does the Fourth Gospel presuppose a centralized
religion or a de-centralized? We may discuss this in relation to (i) the
pilgrimages to Jerusalem and the Jewish feasts; (ii) the detailed
ceremonies connected with those feasts; (iii) the temple itself; (iv)
the state of sects and parties; (v) the Messianic expectation.
i. Pilgrimages.
It is characteristic of the Fourth Gospel, as compared with the common
matter of the Synoptics, that it alone represents our Lord as making a
number of pilgrimages to Jerusalem for the express purpose of attending
the Jewish feasts. The Synoptic narrative mentions only a single
Passover at the very end of our Lord’s public ministry, which led to His
arrest and death. St. John mentions three Passovers as falling in the
course of the ministry: one soon after it may be said to have begun, one
in the middle, and one at the end. Beside this there is an unnamed feast
in v. 1; there is a Feast of Tabernacles which our Lord attends in vii.
2, 10; and the Feast of Dedication is expressly mentioned in x. 22.
It is somewhat surprising that Dr. Drummond, who takes in general so
favourable a view of the Fourth Gospel, should seem to be in doubt as to
these visits and these feasts, and should sum up rather against
them[46]. I must not stay now to go fully into the question of their
historical character, which will come before us again. But, speaking
broadly, I may point to the improbability that a pious Jew, within the
Holy Land and not a member of the Dispersion, would neglect to attend
the feasts for so long a time and in the course of a religious mission
addressed directly to his countrymen. I must needs think it wholly
improbable. And apart from this improbability, we should have to account
for the determined hostility of the authorities at Jerusalem, which had
manifested itself before the last Passover, and which came to a head in
proposals of betrayal so soon after its victim had set foot in
Jerusalem.
However this may be—and I reserve the fuller discussion for the
present—in any case it must be allowed that the narrative of the Fourth
Gospel is in the strictest accordance with the religious customs of the
time to which it relates, and not in accordance with those at the time
when the Gospel was written. We must at least set down this fact as
markedly to its credit.
ii. Ceremonies.
The effect of this is heightened when we further observe that the feasts
are more than once not mentioned barely, but with some little allusion
that agrees well with what we know of them from other sources.
I will not lay much stress upon what is said of the first Passover in
chap. ii, because it might be thought that the account of the cleansing
of the Temple is simply derived from the Synoptics, although in them it
appears at a later period. It is, however, worth while to point out the
specially graphic delineation in the Fourth Gospel (the upsetting of the
money-changers’ piles of coin, and the address to the sellers of doves,
whose commodities could not be overturned or driven out). Little touches
of this kind acquire an increased importance from the fact that the
marketing in the temple courts, even if it survived the drastic
treatment described in the Gospel, in any case did not survive the
events of 70 A.D.
There is nothing very special in connexion with the unnamed feast; and
the Passover of vi. 4 is mentioned only by the way. But in the account
of the Feast of Tabernacles there is a precise touch in vii. 37, ‘on the
last day, the great day of the feast.’ This shows accurate knowledge,
because the last day was kept as a sabbath with an ‘holy convocation’
(Lev. xxiii. 36). Whether, as many have supposed, our Lord’s words on
this day (‘If any man thirst, let him come unto me, and drink’) were
suggested by the libations of water from Siloam poured out during the
feast, is a question of association that is hardly capable of proof, but
may be true[47].