John: Interpreted by Early Christian and Medieval Commentators

By Eerdmans

This Church’s Bible volume on the Gospel of John contains carefully selected and translated homilies and commentaries from such church fathers as Cyril of Alexandria, Cyril of Jerusalem, Gregory the Great, Theodore of Mopsuestia, Augustine, Athanasius, and the Venerable Bede. Ranging chronologically from the second century to the ninth, these substantial patristic selections provide an illuminating window into the breadth of the church’s interpretive tradition on John’s Gospel.

Authors of Works Excerpted

Ambrose of Milan
Ammonius of Alexandria
Aphrahat
Apostolic Constitutions
Athanasius of Alexandria
Augustine of Hippo
Basil of Caesarea
Bede
Caesarius of Arles
Clement of Alexandria
Cyprian of Carthage
Cyril of Alexandria
Cyril of Jerusalem
Didymus the Blind
Ephrem the Syrian
Gregory of Nazianzus
Gregory of Nyssa
Gregory the Great
Hilary of Poitiers
Hippolytus of Rome
Irenaeus of Lyons
Jerome
John Cassian
John Chrysostom
John of Damascus
John Scotus Eriugena
Justin Martyr
Leo the Great
Maximus of Turin
Novatian
Origen of Alexandria
Peter Chrysologus
Romanos the Melodist
Rufinus of Aquileia
Severian of Gabala
Sophronius of Jerusalem
Tertullian of Carthage
Theodore of Mopsuestia
Theodoret of Cyrus
Theophilus of Alexandria

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eerdmans
• Release date: Mar 13, 2018
• ISBN: 9781467449311

Book preview

2002).

An Introduction to John

The Gospel of John held a cherished place in the minds and hearts of early Christian interpreters. It was for them, the spiritual gospel,¹ or in the words of Origen of Alexandria, the firstfruits of the gospels. While scholars today debate its origins and authorship,² early Christians were unanimous in attributing it to the apostle John, the beloved disciple of the gospel itself. Reclining close to the breast of Jesus (John 13:23, 25), John had deeply imbibed the rich wisdom of Christ, and for early Christians, John was the most theologically sublime of all the gospels. Using the fourfold creature of Revelation 4 (lion, ox, human, eagle), early Christians routinely ascribed the image of the eagle to the Gospel of John. As one anonymous fourth-century commentator explained, the eagle flies higher than any other birds and alone sets its unblinking gaze upon the rays of the sun.

Early Christian thinkers observed that the Synoptic Gospels (Matthew, Mark, and Luke) began with Christ’s birth or baptism and focused largely on his earthly ministry of teaching and healing. The opening verses of the Gospel of John, however, immediately transport the reader to soaring theological heights: In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God (1:1). Of these words Augustine remarked: Not only does John rise above land and every realm of air and sky, but also above the whole host of angels, and every invisible order of powers. . . . John spoke about the Lord’s divinity in a way that no else ever did.

Trinitarian and Christological Considerations

The Gospel of John was most significant for understanding the person of Christ and the doctrine of the Holy Trinity. The exalted theology of the prologue was a gold mine for Trinitarian thought. Early Christian commentators saw clearly the significance of the wording of the first verse: In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and was God. Because Christ, the Word, was explicitly named God, his full divinity was unquestioned. Yet because this same Word was also with God, the church maintained a distinction between the Father and the Son. Tertullian of Carthage, more than a century before the Council of Nicea, explained it this way: "There is one who exists from the beginning and another with whom he existed—one is the Word of God; the other is God. Of course the Word is God, but only as the Son of God, not as the Father. Over two hundred years later, Cyril of Alexandria maintained a similar logic: By being with God he might be known as another person alongside the Father, and the Son might be believed to be separate and distinct. By being God, he is understood both as having the same nature as the Father and as existing from him, as both being God and coming forth from God."

Verse 3 of the prologue was further evidence of Christ’s eternal divinity. Because the Word was with God in the beginning and all things were made through him (1:3), the Word could not be part of created reality. He must have existed from all eternity with the Father. As Augustine of Hippo concluded, If he is not made, he is not a creature; and if he is not a creature, he is of the same substance as the Father. For every substance that is not God is a creature, and that which is not a creature is God. The prologue set the stage for further meditation on the mystery of the Trinity.

The prologue, however, was not the only section of the gospel significant for Trinitarian thinking. Jesus’s own words, and those of his disciples, became important evidence for Christ’s full divinity. In some cases, the very grammar of a biblical verse held theological weight. For example, early Christians paid careful attention to the declaration of Jesus in John 10:30: I and the Father are one. These were no careless, merely symbolic, words. Jesus’s pronouncement indicated both the unity and the plurality of the Godhead. The unity of the Godhead was expressed by the use of the word one, but plurality was indicated by the use of two subjects. As Tertullian of Carthage explained in a careful, minute examination of the passage: "In the phrase, ‘I and the Father are one,’ the subjects of the sentence (I and Father) are masculine nouns, indicating two persons, but the predicate nominative (one) is neuter, indicating its reference to a ‘unity of being,’ not persons."

Other passages, like John 14:9, also pointed early Christians to the doctrine of Christ’s full divinity with the Father. When Philip asked Jesus to show us the Father, Jesus replied with the words, He who has seen me has seen the Father (14:9). As the Son of God, Christ so perfectly reflected the image of the Father, that to have seen the Son was to have seen the Father. Yet as Hilary of Poitiers was careful to point out, Christ is not the image of the Father in the same way that a lifeless piece of art reflects an object. The Son is a distinct, living person within the Godhead, sharing full divinity with the Father. He explains that through the Son, the Father is seen. This is the mystery that the Son reveals: they are one God, but not one person. Like many early Christian thinkers, Hilary’s interpretation of the Johannine text was informed by the Nicene Creed’s articulation of one God in three persons (Father, Son, and Holy Spirit). Other words and phrases from the Creed (substance, essence, very God of very God, begotten, not made) also routinely appear in the church father’s interpretation of the Gospel of John.

Not only the words of Jesus, but those of his disciples, like Thomas, also accentuated Christ’s divinity. In John 20, Jesus appeared after his resurrection to a group of disciples in an upper room. When Thomas, who was absent, learned of Christ’s appearance, he famously pronounced: Unless I see in his hands the print of the nails, and place my finger in the mark of the nails, and place my hand in his side, I will not believe (20:25). Yet when Christ presented himself before Thomas, encouraging him to do the very thing he asserted, Thomas answered, My Lord and my God! (20:28). For early Christians, these were no empty words of exclamation. They were nothing less than a profound confession of faith, echoing the words of that quotidian Jewish prayer, itself a confession of monotheism: Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God is one LORD (Deut 6:4). Thomas, a faithful Jew who would have prayed Deuteronomy 6 every day, was now applying the words of that prayer to Jesus. Hilary of Poitiers captured the mind of the early church when he explained: In the end Thomas understood the truth of the evangelical mystery and confessed Christ as both his Lord and his God. This was not a name of honor, but a confession of Christ’s very nature. He believed that Christ was God in his very substance and power.

Early interpreters also wrestled with understanding the central Christian confession that Christ was both divine and human. While the Gospel of John is often described as having a high Christology for its exalted prologue and depictions of Jesus’s intimate relationship with the Father, John records the human side of Christ as well.³ Before his encounter with the Samaritan woman at the well in chapter 4 (unique to John’s Gospel), we are told that Jesus was wearied with his journey (4:6). Likewise, in the account of the raising of Lazarus (also unique to John), Jesus was twice deeply moved (11:33, 38) and himself wept (11:34) at the sight of the crowds mourning over the death of Lazarus. After predicting his coming passion and betrayal, Jesus twice confessed to being troubled in soul and spirit (12:27; 13:21). The reality of Christ’s physical body is also emphasized in the resurrection appearances of John’s Gospel. In his appearance to the disciples, Christ could be touched and handled. He instructed Thomas: Put your finger here, and see my hands; and put out your hand, and place it in my side (20:27). His humanity is again displayed in the final chapter of the gospel when Jesus joined his disciples in a breakfast of fish and bread. All these episodes were clear indications of Christ’s full humanity, and became the basis for further reflection upon Christ’s incarnation.

Naturally, the declaration of John 1:14 was an essential Christological passage for early Christian thinkers: And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us. The divine Word took on human flesh, not by changing his divine essence, but by fully assuming our human nature. The salvific consequences of the incarnation were not lost on ancient commentators. It was only through Christ’s full assumption of human flesh that our union with God might be possible. As John Chrysostom observed: God’s own Son became the Son of Man that he might make the children of human beings into children of God. The prologue marked the centrality of the incarnation for understanding the rest of the book, and early interpreters were mindful of that theme in their expositions of later chapters of the gospel.

Sacramental Theology

Trinitarian and Christological matters were not the only concerns. Early Christians also discovered a rich sacramental theology in the Fourth Gospel. Scholars today are quick to point out that the Gospel of John omits both Christ’s baptism in the Jordan and the institution of the Last Supper as found in the other canonical gospels. Yet, for early Christians, the Gospel of John was nevertheless laden with sacramental imagery.⁴ As priests and bishops of communities of prayer and worship, these ancient Christian interpreters routinely perceived allusions to the sacraments of Baptism and Eucharist in John’s text.

Christ’s pronouncement to Nicodemus that, unless one is born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of God (3:5), was an obvious reference to the sacrament of Christian baptism. Just as physical existence required a physical birth, so too Christ’s words taught that spiritual life and entrance into God’s kingdom required the spiritual rebirth of baptism. Like Augustine, early thinkers recognized that Nicodemus failed to perceive Christ’s spiritual referent: Although there are two births, Nicodemus understood only one. One is of the earth, the other of heaven; one is of the flesh, the other of the Spirit; one is of mortality, the other of eternity; one is of male and female, the other of God and the church. Other references to water, like the living water of John 4 and 7, and the flow of blood and water from Christ’s side in John 19, were also interpreted in light of baptism.

In a more figural way, the washing of the blind man’s eyes in the pool of Siloam (John 9), and especially the healing of the lame man at the pool by the Sheep Gate (John 5), also pointed early Christians to baptism. John Chrysostom drew a parallel between the healing powers of the pool waters and the healing waters of baptism. The latter are portrayed beforehand by the pool as in a figure. Likewise, Ambrose of Milan observed that just as an angel gave healing powers to the pool (John 5:4), so too the Holy Spirit effects spiritual healing at the baptismal waters. As Christians began to construct elaborate baptismal fonts and pools, the healing pools of John 5 and 9 would become a natural reminder of the church’s baptismal liturgy.⁵

As mentioned, John’s Gospel contains no account of the Last Supper as found in the Synoptic Gospels. Yet, John 13 does record a final meal shared by Jesus and his disciples. In a moving narrative unique to John, Jesus donned the role of a servant and humbly washed the disciples’ feet. As one might expect, early Christians perceived a sacramental significance in the scene. The washing of the disciples’ feet with water echoed for them the spiritual washing at baptism. The removal of dust and grime from their feet suggested the spiritual removal of the stain of sin. For example, Christ’s declaration that he who has bathed does not need to wash, except for his feet (13:10) became for the Venerable Bede, and other early interpreters, an illustration of the cleansing which was given once in baptism but also the washing away of the daily sins of the faithful. Once again, the church’s ritual act with water helped illuminate the meaning behind passages like John 13.

Eucharistic imagery was readily available as well. That sacramental participation with Christ was discovered in the parable of the vine and the vinedresser, with the language of abiding in Christ. As Cyril of Alexandria asked, Can anyone make sense of this and offer an interpretation that fails to mention the power of the blessed mystery [i.e., the Eucharist]? However, the central passage for Eucharistic interpretation came from Christ’s bread from heaven discourse in John 6. The words of Christ clearly evoked the Christian ritual meal. When Christ proclaims that I am the bread of life; he who comes to me shall not hunger, and he who believes in me shall never thirst (6:35), the image of eating and drinking invited ancient commentators to think of the Eucharist. Christ’s invitation became, as it did for Cyril of Alexandria, a promise of Eucharistic participation in his holy flesh and blood which restores humans wholly to incorruption. Later, when Augustine read Christ’s warning that your fathers ate manna, and they died (6:49), he was reminded of the Christian version of heavenly food in the Eucharist, and Paul’s warning about eating and drinking judgment upon oneself (1 Cor 11:29).

An even more obvious link to the Eucharist was Christ’s pronouncement toward the end of the chapter: The bread which I shall give for the life of the world is my flesh (6:51); and his extended discourse a few verses later: Unless you eat the flesh of the Son of man and drink his blood, you have no life in you; he who eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life. . . . He who eats my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him (6:53–56). For ancient Christians, references to eating flesh and drinking blood could mean only one thing: participation in the Eucharistic meal. Christ’s words were taken with utter seriousness. He who does not take the sacrament, does not have life, said Augustine; and those who do not receive Jesus through the mystery of the Eucharist will remain wholly bereft of any share in and taste of that holy and blessed life, concluded Cyril of Alexandria. In these and a variety of other ways, early Christians discovered a lush sacramental theology in the Gospel of John.

Figural Readings

In some cases early Christian commentators, following the example of the apostle Paul, used a figural or allegorical interpretation to expound the text. In discussing Abraham’s two sons, one by the slave woman Hagar and one by Abraham’s wife Sarah, Paul wrote: This is an allegory: these women are two covenants (Gal 4:24). Likewise, in his epistle to the Corinthians, Paul understood the Israelite wanderings in the wilderness, and their encounters with spiritual food and miraculous drink, as a figure of Christ and the church: All ate the same supernatural food and all drank the same supernatural drink. For they drank from the supernatural Rock which followed them, and the Rock was Christ (1 Cor 10:3–4). Early Christian interpreters followed this biblical and apostolic example of finding Christ and the church throughout Scripture. Although this approach lent itself most naturally to reading Old Testament texts, the Gospel of John could yield figural interpretations as well.

One example is the interpretation of Jesus’s discourse with Nicodemus in John 3. There, Christ alluded to an episode in Israelite history recorded in Num 21. The Israelites, complaining again about their ill-perceived fate, received the punishment of venomous serpents that attacked and killed many of the people. To heal their wounds, Moses constructed a bronze snake and lifted it on a pole; those who looked upon the snake were healed. Drawing upon this account, Jesus declared to Nicodemus: As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life (3:14–15).

Other aspects of the story of the serpent on the pole also held meaning, for they represented, in the words of Cyril of Alexandria, the entire mystery of the incarnation. The ancient Israelites typified believers in Christ. The venom of the snakes signified the deadly poison of sin. The lifting of the bronze serpent upon a pole evoked the lifting of Christ upon the cross. Taking these figures together, early interpreters like Augustine could proclaim: Just as the Israelites fixed their eyes on that serpent and did not perish from the bites of the serpents, even so will those who fix their eyes with faith upon the death of Christ be healed from the bites of their sins. A typological reading of the text allowed the early church to discern deeper and richer meanings in the gospel.

Any number of details within the Johannine text could become the basis for further allegorical readings. When Jesus cleansed the temple of oxen, sheep, pigeons, and money-changers in John 2, each element of the narrative became for early Christians symbolic of something else, such as members of the church or the human soul. The Samaritan woman of John 4 evoked the gentile church coming to faith in Christ. The Good Shepherd discourse of John 10 allowed for a variety of figural interpretations of the shepherd, gate, sheep, thieves, and hirelings. Christ’s undivided tunic in John 19 became a symbol of the undivided church spread across the world. The final breakfast with the disciples in John 21 intimated the eschatological banquet to come in Christ’s kingdom.

Numbers also held hidden meaning for early interpreters. The six water jars of John 2 symbolized the six ages of the world leading to fulfillment in Christ, the new wine. The loaves and fishes of John 6 produced a variety of meanings connected with the numbers five and two. Lazarus’s four days in the tomb (John 11) indicated the growing stages of habitual sin. The mention of 153 fish in John 21 invited ancient commentators to discover a hidden meaning in the number. To modern ears, these kinds of figural readings may sound far-fetched and untethered to the authorial intent of the passage, but for the early church, all of Scripture was a divinely inspired and interconnected web. To those with eyes of faith, a deeper, spiritual meaning was there.

John and the Unity of Scripture

Indeed, for early Christians the proper reading of Scripture was not simply a matter of focusing upon one particular book, chapter, or verse. Because the early church understood the Bible as essentially one single book, the interpretation of one passage was almost always considered in light of the totality of Scripture, both in its relation to the broader drama of redemption, and in the way it might echo similar words and phrases elsewhere in the Bible. For example, the chronology of the Gospel of John is seemingly framed around traditional Jewish feast days (Tabernacles, Dedication [i.e., Hanukkah], and especially Passover).⁶ Because Christians believed that Christ was the final and perfect sacrifice, the frequent mention of feasts in John’s Gospel gave early interpreters an opportunity to explore the entire sacrificial system of the Old Testament in light of the coming of Christ.

Other connections to the broader scope of redemption were made possible when ancient readers observed details of the passage echoing similar aspects of the biblical story elsewhere. Christ’s use of spit and clay to heal the man born blind in chapter 9 evoked for early interpreters God’s original creation of humanity from dust (Gen 2:7). Irenaeus explains: Just as we are formed in the womb by the Word, this very same Word formed the power of sight in the one who had been blind from his birth (9:1). . . . He declares the original formation of Adam, the manner in which he was created, and by whose hand he was formed, demonstrating the whole from a part. The Lord, carrying out the will of the Father and forming the power of sight, is the one who made the whole man.

Irenaeus was not alone in connecting details of the Johannine text with the broader story of the Bible. When early Christians read about Christ’s arrest in the garden (18:1) and his subsequent burial in a new tomb in a garden (19:41), the original garden of Eden came readily to mind. Cyril of Alexandria beautifully captured the interpretive mind of the early church: This garden was a kind of summation of all places, a return to that ancient garden. The beginning of our sad estate occurred in paradise, while Christ’s suffering also began in the garden, a suffering which brought the restoration of all that happened to us long ago.

Cyril further explains: Nothing is placed in the writings of the saints without a reason. Even something which seems minor proves to be worth our effort, since it has value. For this reason, even a small detail in the text was worthy of further examination, especially if the wording echoed another passage in Scripture. Jesus being wearied from his journey (4:6) reminded early Christians of similar words in Isa 40:28: The Lord . . . does not faint or grow weary, and made possible a fuller exploration of the reality of the incarnation. Christ’s references to a spring of water welling up to eternal life (4:14) and the Spirit being rivers of living water (7:38) compelled ancient readers to search for biblical references in the Psalms (there is a river whose streams make glad the city of God [Ps 46:4]), Isaiah (the righteous will spring up like grass amid waters, like willows by flowing streams [Isa 44:4]), and Jeremiah (they have forsaken me, the fountain of living waters, and hewed out cisterns for themselves [Jer 2:13]).

Christ’s claim to be the light of the world (8:12) came to be connected to passages like Isa 9:1–2: Galilee of the nations, the people who dwelled in darkness have seen a great light; and Ps 36:9: For with thee is the fountain of life; in thy light do we see light. In a similar way, texts like Ezek 18:3, The fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children’s teeth are set on edge, and Deut 24:16, The fathers shall not be put to death for the children, became important exegetical background to the disciples’ question about the blind man in John 9:2: Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?

The details of Christ’s passion, likewise, became important to the early church fathers. Christ’s silence before his accusers brought to mind the famous passage from Isa 53: Like a lamb that before its shearers is dumb, so he opened not his mouth. The soldiers’ treatment of Christ’s clothes became the fulfillment of Ps 22:18: They divide my garments among them, and for my raiment they cast lots. Even a minor detail such as Christ’s purple garment held significance, for it connected the minds of ancient readers to a Christological reading of Isa 63:1: Who is this that comes from Edom, in crimsoned garments from Bozrah? The Bible was an interrelated tapestry of associated words, phrases, and theological meaning, and the Gospel of John was read within the context of the Bible as a whole.

John and the Synoptics

Putting the Gospel of John into conversation with the rest of Scripture was not limited to Old Testament allusions, however. Early interpreters also explored John’s relation to the other three canonical gospels, Matthew, Mark, and Luke. Early commentators were aware of the differences between John and the Synoptic Gospels and attempted to explain the dissimilarities.⁷ In general, however, the apparent discrepancies between John and the other gospels presented no serious challenge to their understanding of Scripture as God’s inspired word.

Harmonization was often their first recourse. Augustine of Hippo wrote an entire treatise called The Harmony of the Gospels in which each of the four canonical gospels was brought into agreement with the others. He was not alone. Other interpreters would often do the same in the course of a homily or commentary. To give just one example, John Chrysostom addressed the cleansing of the temple, recorded in all four gospels. In John 2, Jesus’s cleansing of the temple presumably occurred near the beginning of his ministry, whereas the other canonical gospels place the event at the end, just prior to Christ’s passion. Chrysostom concluded that there were two cleansings, one at the beginning of his ministry and one near the very coming of his passion. For him, this also helped explain the difference in Jesus’s words. In John, Jesus declared, You shall not make my Father’s house a house of trade (2:16). The Synoptics record a much more strident admonition: Do not make my Father’s house a den of robbers (Matt 21:13; Mark 11:17; Luke 19:46), a stronger expression more fitting to the end of his ministry.

Despite the variances and apparent discrepancies, early Christians understood the gospels as divinely inspired texts. As Hilary of Poitiers reminded his readers: Each of the gospels completes what is lacking in the others. We learn some things from one, other things from another, and so on, because all are the proclamation of one Spirit. Origen of Alexandria, likewise, accounted for differences based on the depth of meaning in the person of Jesus, and the various perspectives of each author. Yet, harmonization was not the only approach. Origen also allowed for certain historical differences within the gospels, as for example, when gospel authors changed the order of things in order to aid the mystical meaning of those events. Because the biblical authors were divinely inspired, the deeper spiritual truth may be presented in a way that obscures the historical chronology. Never mind, says Origen: Their aim was to present the truth spiritually and literally at the same time when possible, but when it was not possible to present both, they preferred the spiritual over the literal. The important point was the spiritual message. Occasionally, selections in this volume have been chosen to illustrate the ways early Christians handled differences between John and the Synoptic Gospels.

Moral Application

Whatever the perspective on John’s Gospel, whether theological, sacramental, figural, or historical, the primary aim of all early Christian interpreters was to feed the Christian people and aid the soul in its spiritual journey. As a result, much of John’s Gospel was employed for pastoral exhortation. The changing of water into wine (John 2) became for John Chrysostom an illustration of the believer’s need for Christ to transform our weak and watery wills into the strong state of wine, the cause of merriment to themselves and to others. The Samaritan woman of John 4 became a model of zealous faith, proclaiming the gospel to others. Let us hear ourselves in that woman, wrote Augustine, let us recognize ourselves in her, and in that woman let us give thanks to God. Early Christians also used Jesus’s treatment of the Samaritan as an example of the way in which women should be treated in the church and home, with respect and dignity. The man who was ill for thirty-eight years (John 5) stood as an illustration of persevering in prayer, even when it seems that God does not hear. In a similar way, the ill man of John 5 and the dead Lazarus of John 11 became an occasion for early Christian preachers to address the way suffering and dying challenge our faith in a loving God.

The events of John 6 held several moral applications. John Chrysostom used the feeding of the five thousand to rail against the sin of gluttony, while Cyril of Alexandria exhorted believers to put away all worries and fears, based on Christ’s words: It is I; do not be afraid (6:20). The death of Lazarus in John 11 and Jesus’s own death predicted in John 13 allowed early interpreters to exhort their audiences about how to grieve the loss of loved ones and how to face one’s own impending death. Likewise, Jesus’s proclamation, Greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends (15:13), became the basis for encouragement toward persecution and martyrdom.

In the end, the Gospel of John, according to the Venerable Bede, encouraged each Christian to pursue one of two ways of life in the church, the active or contemplative life. The active life, represented by the apostle Peter, was for all. It involved a life of service to God and neighbor through ministering to the poor, visiting the sick, and caring for the dying or dead. The apostle John, however, Christ’s beloved who reclined upon his breast, represented the contemplative way. Such a life meant first practicing the active way and then learning to be free of all affairs of the world and directing the eye of the mind toward love alone. Very few would ever ascend to such a life. Yet for the early church, the Gospel of John stood as the supreme exhortation toward such a life, as well as the shining example of it, for John’s alone was the spiritual gospel.

Commentaries and Homilies on John

Because the Gospel of John was a lengthy and theologically rich book, there are many commentaries and homilies from the early church. Most of the selections in this volume are drawn from six writers. Origen of Alexandria, one of the first and greatest commentators on Scripture, wrote a lengthy commentary on John. Of the thirty-two volumes, only nine have survived. From John Chrysostom we have a series of eighty-eight exegetical homilies that cover the entirety of John’s Gospel. These are often detailed verse-by-verse expositions interwoven with theological reflection and moral application. Theodore of Mopsuestia wrote a commentary on the Fourth Gospel, originally in Greek, but now preserved in its fullest form only in Syriac. Augustine of Hippo has provided us with 124 tractates (sermons) on the Gospel of John. Augustine was the most prolific and influential Latin commentator on the gospel. From Cyril of Alexandria we have a lengthy and detailed twelve-volume commentary on John’s Gospel. Cyril’s commentary is especially good at locating the Gospel of John within the grand scope of the drama of redemption from creation to the eschaton. Finally, John Scotus Eriugena wrote a commentary on John’s Gospel that combined exegetical study, theological reflection, and neo-Platonic philosophy.

Additionally, the Gospel of John was cited in a variety of sermons, treatises, polemical texts, catechetical works, ascetical writings, and liturgical poetry. Excerpts from thinkers such as Irenaeus of Lyons, Tertullian of Carthage, Hilary of Poitiers, Cyril of Jerusalem, Ambrose of Milan, John Cassian, Peter Chrysologus, Leo the Great, Romanos the Melodist, the Venerable Bede, and many more are included as well. Each provides additional insight into the way the early church read the Fourth Gospel. All told, nearly eighty different works, from forty different authors, are represented in the excerpts included in this volume.

Using This Commentary

This volume follows the traditional format for a commentary. It begins with a chapter on the authorship of the gospel, then proceeds to offer selections on each chapter. A reader will be able to search for ancient commentary on a specific passage or verse, and need not read through chapter by chapter. Note, however, that some portions of John’s Gospel received very little attention from the early church and for that reason not every verse receives commentary. Also, this volume is not a comprehensive presentation of every interpretation of the Gospel of John from the early church. The primary source material from which to choose was vast, and judicious selection of excerpts was necessary. Excerpts were chosen on the basis of what the editors deemed most edifying both spiritually and theologically. Oftentimes, when a certain interpretation is repeated by multiple commentators, only one interpretation is presented. The goal is to illustrate the various ways the gospel was read and to invite readers to explore other commentators listed in the appendix.

Some excerpts are quite long in order to provide a fuller context for a specific interpretation. Rarely can ancient Christian interpretation be fully understood from a single line or two. Only by reading a longer excerpt can one see the way the ancient commentators wrestled with understanding the text. Scripture contains a rich tapestry of words, images, phrases, and ideas, and Christian interpretation developed slowly over time. Where appropriate, a brief footnote may be provided to help clarify the point being made. Other times, it may be necessary to read a selection again, allowing for a more meandering exposition than we are accustomed to in our age of sound-bytes and character-limited tweets. The reader is encouraged to take it slowly and ponder the mysterious and fascinating world of early Christian interpretation.

Arrangement of each chapter is as follows. A brief editorial introduction provides a summary of the excerpts to follow, highlighting particularly important themes, passages, or verses. Then there is a pericope from the chapter as a whole followed by excerpts on individual verses or sections. Within these smaller divisions, excerpts are arranged chronologically, earlier church fathers appearing before later ones.

Passages and verses being commented on are in bold. Other biblical citations, and passages from elsewhere in John, are provided in italics. All references conform to the Revised Standard Version unless indicated otherwise. In some instances, the Latin (Vulgate) or Greek text available to the early Christian interpreter may vary slightly from our contemporary manuscripts. Significant deviations will be noted.

Sources for the Interpretation of the Gospel of John

An appendix at the end of this volume provides a full list of authors used, along with brief biographical information. A second appendix provides the sources from which the excerpts are drawn, arranged in the order in which they appear in this volume.

BRYAN A. STEWART

1. The phrase comes from Clement of Alexandria (as recorded by Eusebius of Caesarea, Ecclesiastical History 6.14.7). See also Maurice F. Wiles, The Spiritual Gospel: The Interpretation of the Fourth Gospel in the Early Church (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1960); and W. A. Smart, The Spiritual Gospel (New York: Abingdon-Cokesbury, 1946), esp. 37–61.

2. Explorations on the origins and authorship of the Gospel of John abound. A classic examination of the topic is Raymond Brown, The Community of the Beloved Disciple (New York: Paulist Press, 1979), esp. 13–91. For a fine summary of the history of scholarship on these questions, see John Ashton, Understanding the Fourth Gospel, 2nd ed. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), 15–27, 90–101.

3. For a thorough consideration of the Christology of the Gospel of John, including a helpful review of modern scholarship on the question, see Paul N. Anderson, The Christology of the Fourth Gospel: Its Unity and Disunity in the Light of John 6 (With a New Introduction, Outlines, and Epilogue) (Eugene, OR: Cascade, 2010), esp. 1–47.

4. For a modern scholarly review of Johannine sacramentalism see Raymond Brown, The Gospel according to John, vol. 1, Anchor Bible 29 (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1966), cxi–cxiv.

5. Because the early church performed baptisms by immersion, biblical references to pools of water would naturally evoke the church’s sacramental rite. For a careful analysis of early Christian art and architecture in relation to Christian baptism, see Robin Jensen, Baptismal Imagery in Early Christianity: Ritual, Visual, and Theological Dimensions (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2012).

6. See, for example, Aileen Guilding, The Fourth Gospel and Jewish Worship (Oxford: Clarendon, 1960).

7. For the definitive modern treatment of the relationship between John and the Synoptics, including a summary of the history of scholarship on the question, see D. Moody Smith, John among the Gospels, 2nd ed. (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 2001).

Preface: The Gospel of John in the Early Church

The excerpts presented here address the authorship and character of the Gospel of John and its relation to the Synoptic Gospels (Matthew, Mark, and Luke) in early Christian commentators. They unanimously believed that the disciple John, son of Zebedee, wrote the Fourth Gospel. The Muratorian Fragment, one of the earliest extant canon lists of the New Testament, suggests that John wrote his gospel with the encouragement and approval of his fellow disciples and other bishops. This tradition is echoed and augmented to include the gospel’s purpose in combating early Christian heresies that denied Christ’s full divinity and pre-incarnate existence, as seen in excerpts from an anonymous fourth-century writer, Cyril of Alexandria, and Sophronius of Jerusalem. John Chrysostom extols the beauty and eloquence of John’s Gospel, calling it a voice sweeter and more useful than all lutists and musicians. For Chrysostom, the message of John’s Gospel is all the more marvelous when one considers the disciple’s family background. His heavenly words that draw the reader to sublime contemplation were written by a poor, uneducated fisherman hailing from a backwater region of the Roman Empire. Only the inspiration of the Spirit could produce the best philosophy and way of life.

Many early Christian writers used the fourfold creature of Revelation 4 (lion, ox, man, eagle) as a pictorial image for each of the four gospels. Irenaeus ascribes the lion to John, powerful and glorious in its presentation of Christ’s generation from the Father. Augustine and our anonymous fourth-century writer, in what has become the more traditional attribution, compare John to the eagle for his unblinking gaze into the high and exalted divinity of Christ. In a similar vein, John Scotus Eriugena offers a classic presentation of John’s Gospel as the work of heightened contemplation, rather than action. As one who lies close to the breast of Jesus (cf. John 13:23, 25), John represents the intellectual contemplation of Christ’s eternal divine existence.

Comparison with the other canonical gospels also occupied the attention of early Christian thinkers. Origen of Alexandria appears especially aware of the seeming discrepancies between the four gospels in their literal sense. He eases the tension by noting that in order to convey the necessary spiritual truth, some of the gospel writers have rearranged the narrative historically in order to convey more powerfully the spiritual message. Likewise, because Jesus has many meanings, the gospels each capture different aspects of Christ. Nevertheless, for Origen, John towers above them all as the firstfruits of the gospels. Augustine notes that Matthew, Mark, and Luke concern themselves with the humanity of Jesus while John addresses Christ’s divinity. Cyril of Alexandria employs the idea of four travelers all journeying to the same city, but by different routes. And Theodore of Mopsuestia suggests that John wrote his gospel in order to address what was lacking in the first three. He opines that the Gospel of the blessed John is the perfection and completion of all that the other evangelists intended.

(1) Muratorian Fragment

The Fourth Gospel is that by John, one of the disciples. To his fellow disciples and bishops who were encouraging him to write he said, Fast together with me today for three days and let us discuss whatever is revealed to each of us. That night it was revealed to Andrew, one of the apostles, that John should record everything under his own name, and that each of them would review it. And so while different principles are taught by the individual gospels, it makes no difference to the faith of believers, since all essential matters are declared in each of the gospels by one principal Spirit: Christ’s birth, passion, resurrection, his life with his disciples, and things concerning his twofold coming, the first in lowliness when he was despised, which has already occurred, the second in manifest royal power, which is yet to come. So why is it any wonder if John constantly sets forth these individual things in his letters as well, saying, We have written to you those things which we have seen with our eyes and heard with our ears and touched with our hands (1 John 1:1). Thus he avows that he is not only an eyewitness and hearer but also a writer of all the wonders of the Lord, in their proper order.

(2) Irenaeus of Lyons

It is not possible for the gospels to be either more or less in number than they are. For there are four zones of the world in which we live, and four chief winds. Likewise, the church is scattered throughout the world, and the gospel and Spirit of life are the pillar and bulwark of the church (1 Tim 3:15). It is fitting, then, for the church to have four pillars, everywhere breathing forth incorruptibility and bringing life to humanity. From this it is clear that the Word, who is the Creator of all things, who sits upon the cherubim (Ps 99:1) and holds together all things (cf. Col 1:17), and who was made manifest to humanity, has given us a fourfold gospel held together by one Spirit. . . . For the cherubim were four-faced, and their faces reflected the various activities of the Son of God. As Scripture says, the first living creature was like a lion (Rev 4:7), signifying his powerful, authoritative, and kingly aspect. The second creature was like an ox (Rev 4:7), signifying his sacrificial and priestly order. The third, with a face of a man (Rev 4:7), represents his advent as a man. And the fourth, like a flying eagle (Rev 4:7), indicates the gift of the Spirit hovering over the church.

The gospels, among which Christ himself sits, are in agreement with these images. The Gospel according to John recounts his original, powerful, and glorious generation from the Father, saying, In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God (John 1:1), and all things were made through him, and without him was not anything made (1:3). This is why that gospel is full of all confidence, for such is Christ’s character. Likewise, the Gospel according to Luke takes up his priestly character and begins with Zechariah the priest offering sacrifice to God (Luke 1:8–9). . . . Again, Matthew recounts Christ’s birth as a man, saying, The book of the genealogy of Jesus Christ, the son of David, the son of Abraham (Matt 1:1), and the birth of Jesus Christ took place in this way (Matt 1:18). So Matthew is the gospel of his humanity, and this is why Christ’s humble and gentle character is maintained throughout the whole gospel. Finally, Mark begins with the prophetical Spirit descending upon us from on high, saying, The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, as it is written in Isaiah the prophet (Mark 1:1–2), indicating the wingéd and soaring aspect of the gospel.

(3) Origen of Alexandria

If someone should examine the disagreements between the gospels in their literal sense . . . he would grow dizzy and would either withdraw from the true validity of the gospels and choose one of them at random so as not to dare to reject the faith about our Lord, or he would admit that there are four gospels but say that their truthfulness does not lie in their literal sense.

In order to gain some understanding of the evangelists’ intention in these matters, we should also add the following. The word which God gives to the saints, along with his presence which is with them when he reveals himself at chosen times in their life—all of this, let us assume, comes to people who see (in the Spirit) what lies before them. Such people are numerous and exist in a variety of places, and not everyone is given the same grace. As a result, each person proclaims what he sees in the Spirit concerning God, his words, and his appearance to the saints. One person would proclaim things that were said and done by God to one righteous man in one place, while someone else would proclaim the things prophesied and accomplished for a different man, and yet another person would want to offer instruction about a third man besides the other two previously mentioned. Let us assume that there is also a fourth person who acts in a similar way to the first three. These four people agree with each other in regards to certain things suggested to them by the Spirit, but they differ in small ways with each other concerning other matters.

Their reports are something like this: God appeared to one man at such and such a time and place, has done such and such things to him, appeared to him in such and such a manner, and led him to such and such a place where he did these things. The second person then proclaims that God appeared at a time which is in agreement with the first account, in some city, but to a second man whom he understands to be far removed from the place of the first man. He also recounts that other words were spoken to this man whom we assume (according to our hypothesis) was a second man. Assume similar things for the third and the fourth reports.

As we have said previously, these reports agree with each other about God and the kindness he shows to some. But if someone supposes that these four reports were history which attempted to portray events through historical accounts, and supposes that God is circumscribed in space and unable to present multiple appearances of himself in multiple places or to speak multiple things at the same time, it would seem impossible that the four hypothetical persons could all be telling the truth. . . .

Therefore, in regards to these four reports which I have hypothesized about, each of whom desired to teach us figuratively about the things which they had seen in their minds, a wise person would understand the true meaning of their accounts and would find no discrepancy between them. We ought to understand the four evangelists in the same way. They made much use of the deeds and words of Jesus according to his wonderful and paradoxical power. In other places in Scripture, however, they have interwoven together their spiritual understanding of things with words referring to sensible things.

Indeed I do not condemn the authors for changing, in some ways, what happened historically in order to aid the mystical meaning of those events. As a result, they have reported what happened in one place as if it happened in another, and what happened at one time as if it happened in another, and in this way have created a report with apparent discrepancies. Their aim was to present the truth spiritually and literally at the same time when possible, but when it was not possible to present both, they preferred the spiritual over the literal. . . .

Jesus, too, has many meanings, and it is likely that the various evangelists took their ideas from these meanings and wrote the gospels, even at times being in agreement with each other concerning some things. . . . I have discussed all these things about the apparent discrepancies in the gospels with a desire to present their agreement by means of spiritual interpretation.

(4) Origen of Alexandria

The gospels are fourfold as if they were the primordial elements of the faith of the church, the elements of which the entire world which is being reconciled to God in Christ is composed. As Paul says, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself (2 Cor 5:19), the world whose sin Jesus bore. And concerning the world of the church, it is written: Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world (1:29). In my opinion, you have given me the task of interpreting, according to my ability, the firstfruits of the gospels: the Gospel according to John, the gospel which speaks of the one whose genealogy is given and who had his origin from one who is without genealogy.

Matthew, writing to the Hebrews who expected the Messiah to come from the line of Abraham and David, said, The book of the genealogy of Jesus Christ, the son of David, the son of Abraham (Matt 1:1). Mark, understanding fully what he was writing about, explained, the beginning of the gospel . . . (Mark 1:1).¹ But the greater and more perfect accounts of Jesus are saved for the one who lay upon Jesus’s breast (cf. John 13:23). None of the others demonstrated Christ’s divinity as purely as John did, who presented him saying, I am the light of the world (8:12); I am the way, and the truth, and the life (14:6); I am the resurrection (11:25); I am the door (10:9); I am the good shepherd (10:11); and in the Apocalypse, I am the Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end, the first and the last (Rev 22:13).

One must dare to say, then, that the gospels are the firstfruits of all the Scriptures and that the firstfruit of the gospels is the Gospel according to John. No one can understand its meaning who does not rest upon the breast of Jesus (cf. John 13:23) or does not receive from Jesus Mary as his own mother (cf. John 19:27). It is necessary for us to become another John, just as John was shown by Jesus to be another Jesus. If Mary had no son other than Jesus (which is held by those who have sound beliefs about her), and Jesus said to his mother, Behold your son (19:27) and not "Behold, this man is also your son, then it was the same thing as saying, Behold, this man is Jesus whom you bore." Indeed everyone who has been perfected lives no more but Christ lives in him (cf. Gal 2:20); and since Christ lives in such a person, it is said about that one to Mary, Behold, Christ, your son.

(5) John Chrysostom

The son of thunder (cf. Mark 3:17), the beloved of Christ (cf. John 19:26), the pillar of churches throughout the whole world, the one who holds the keys of heaven, the one who drinks the cup of Christ and has been baptized in his baptism, who lies upon the master’s breast with great confidence, this one is now presented to us. . . . This one now appears before us without hypocrisy (for in him there is no hypocrisy, forgery, or fiction). With an open face he proclaims the open truth, persuading those who hear him that he is none other than what he is by his appearance, looks, and voice. He needs no musical instruments for his proclamation, such as a lute, lyre, or some other such thing. He accomplishes it all with his tongue, sending forth a voice sweeter and more useful than all lutists and musicians. The entire heavens are his stage, the world his theatre. His audience are all the angels and all people who are angels or who desire to become angels, for they alone are able to hear clearly such harmonious music, and to demonstrate it by their lives. . . . Heavenly powers stand by to aid this apostle, astonished at the beauty of his soul, his understanding, and the maturity of his virtue by which he drew Christ to himself and received that spiritual grace. Like some well-made, bejeweled lyre with strings of gold, John prepared his soul and offered it to the Spirit for some great and exalted speech.

Therefore because it is no longer the fisherman, the son of Zebedee, but the one who knows the depths of God (1 Cor 2:10)—I mean the Spirit, who plucks the strings of the lyre—let us pay careful attention. What he says to us, he doesn’t speak in a human fashion but from the depths of the Spirit, from those hidden things which not even the angels knew before they came to pass. For what we know, they too with us, and through us, have learned from his voice. . . .

If we saw someone from above suddenly stooping down from the heights of heaven, promising to describe that place with precision, would we not all rush after him? So now also, let us direct our attention, for this man speaks to us from heaven. He is not of this world, as Christ himself says: You are not of the world (15:19); he has the Counselor speaking in him, the ever-present one who knows the things of God as precisely as the human soul knows the things belonging to itself (cf. 1 Cor 2:10–11)—the Spirit of holiness, the righteous Spirit, which gently leads us to heaven and gives us other eyes prepared to see the future as if it’s happening in the present, and granting us to behold heavenly things, even while in the body. Now then, let us offer to him an entire life of utter tranquility. Let no one sluggish, no one drowsy, no one foul enter here and remain, but let us remove ourselves to heaven. There, he speaks these things to those who are citizens of that place. We will gain nothing great by remaining on earth. The words of John mean nothing to those who do not desire to be delivered from this swinish life, just as the things of this world mean nothing to him. Although thunder amazes our souls by making a sound without being seen, this man’s voice disturbs none of the faithful, but rather frees them from confusion and trouble. However, it does amaze the demons alone, and those who serve them. Therefore, in order to see how his voice amazes them, let us maintain silence, both outwardly and in our minds, but especially in our minds. What use is it to silence the mouth if the soul is disturbed with great turmoil? I seek for that tranquility of mind and soul since it’s the attentive soul that I need.

Now then, let no desire for wealth, lust for glory, the tyranny of anger, or the remaining throng of other passions trouble us. It is impossible for the ear, without first being cleansed, to behold clearly the sublimity of what is spoken, or to understand properly the awe-inspiring and hidden nature of these mysteries and all other virtue contained in these divine oracles. For if someone is unable to learn well a melody on a flute or lyre without all careful attention, how would someone who sits listening to mystical voices be able to hear with a lazy soul?

(6) John Chrysostom

If John was going to converse with us and speak to us words of his own, we would need to say something about his family, his homeland, and his education. But since it is not he, but God through him, who speaks to humanity, it seems to me superfluous and extraneous to investigate his background. Nevertheless, such an endeavor is not superfluous but exceedingly necessary, for when you have learned who John was, where he came from, whom he came from, and what kind of man he was, and then you hear his voice and all his wisdom, you will certainly understand that his words were not his own but those of the divine power that stirred his soul.

What then was his homeland? He had none but a poor village in a sorry country which produced nothing worthwhile. The scribes disparage Galilee saying, Search and you will see that no prophet is to rise from Galilee (7:52). Even the Israelite indeed² disparages it saying, Can anything good come out of Nazareth? (1:46–47). And being from this land, he was not even from a region of some distinction in it. Likewise, he did not come from a distinguished family; his father was a poor fisherman, so poor that he led his own children into the same vocation. You all know that no craftsman wants to make his son inherit the same vocation, unless poverty particularly constrains him, especially if the work is paltry. And nothing can be poorer, more worthless, and more unlearned than a fisherman (although even among them some are greater and some lesser). And this apostle of ours held the lower rank, for he didn’t catch fish from the sea but made his living on some small harbor. As he was engaged with this task with his father and his brother James, mending their broken nets (Matt 4:21)—itself signifying their extreme poverty—when Christ called them.

As for his outward education, we learn from these things that he had none at all. Elsewhere Luke testifies to this, saying not only that he was ignorant, but uneducated as well (cf. Acts 4:13). This is what we would suppose for someone who was so poor and never entered into the marketplaces, nor ran in respectable circles, but was rather tied down to his fishing. Even if he did encounter certain fish merchants or army cooks, why would he come to be in a better state than the irrational beasts? How could he not imitate the speechlessness of the fish?

And so, this fisherman who spends his time in the harbor with nets and fish, who comes from Bethsaida of Galilee, whose father is a poor fisherman (the poorest of the poor), whose ignorance is of the extreme, who never learned his letters either before or after he encountered Christ, let’s see what he says and what he speaks about. Is it about things in the countryside, things in the rivers, or the fish market? These are the kinds of things we would expect to hear from a fisherman. But fear not; we’ll hear nothing about these things. We’ll hear about heavenly things which no one had ever learned before this man. Pay attention, as is fitting, to the one who speaks from the treasures of the Spirit, as one who has just arrived from heaven itself. He comes to us bringing sublime teaching and the best philosophy and way of life. . . .

He speaks everything with assurance. As if he stands upon a rock, he is never overturned. Having been deemed worthy to enter into the very innermost sanctuary, and having the Lord of all speaking in him, he is subject to nothing that is human. . . .

Indeed, from this and from everything else, it’s clear that nothing of this man is human. Divine and heavenly are the teachings which come to us through this divine soul. We won’t hear clanging words, ringing speech, or a superfluous and useless ordering and arrangement of words and sentences (for these things are far from all wisdom); rather, we will observe irresistible and divine power, invincible force of correct teachings, and an abundance of ten thousand good things.

(7) Augustine of Hippo

In the four gospels, or rather the four books of the one gospel, Saint John the apostle, who is not unjustly compared to the eagle because of his spiritual understanding, raised his preaching much higher than the other three; and in doing so, he also wanted our hearts to be raised up. The other three evangelists, as if walking with the Lord as a man on earth, speak little about his divinity; yet John, as if reluctant to remain on earth, raised himself up, as seen when he thunders in the beginning of his discourse. Not only does he rise above land and every realm of air and sky, but also above the whole host of angels, and every invisible order of powers, coming finally to the one through whom all things were made, saying, In the beginning was