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 110hands 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:—
111‘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.’
112But 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 113confusions. 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 = ?ρα?α); 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 114the 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’ (π?ραν τ?? θαλ?σση? τ?? Γαλιλα?α? τ?? Τιβερ?αδο?). 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.
115Professor 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 116of 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 117that 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 118the 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.
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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 120by 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].
There is nice accuracy in the picture presented by xi. 55-7:—
‘Now the passover of the Jews was at hand: and many went up to Jerusalem out of the country before the passover, to purify themselves. They sought therefore for Jesus, and spake one with another, as they stood in the temple, What think ye? That he will not come to the feast? Now the chief priests and the Pharisees had given commandment, that, if any man knew where he was, he should shew it, that they might take him.’
The strictest ritualistic purity was required of those who took part in the feast. ‘Every man,’ said R. Isaac, ‘is bound to purify himself for the feast’ (Lightfoot, Hor. Hebr. ad loc.). The purifying might take quite seven days, and during this time the pilgrims to the feast would be standing about and often conversing among themselves, and the rumours of the day would circulate freely among them.
There are several pointed allusions in the Gospel to the laws of Levitical purity. The mention of the water-jars at the miracle of Cana is one; the dispute of John’s disciples with a Jew about purifying is perhaps another; we have just had a third; and a fourth is in xviii. 28, where the Sanhedrists are prevented from entering the praetorium, in order not to incur defilement, and so be prevented from eating the passover[48]. 121These allusions are really, if we think of it, very striking. They fit into the narrative with perfect ease and appropriateness; and they are admirably natural if the author of the Gospel was really St. John, a Christian brought up as a Jew, and even as it would seem in some way personally connected with the priesthood, who had been himself in the company of Jesus, had himself held intercourse with disciples of the Baptist, and himself moved about among the crowds and heard their comments. It is a wholly different thing if we are to suppose that all these touches were thrown in by a Christian of the third generation, who could only arrive at them by study and imagination. Chwolson says expressly: ‘After the destruction of the Temple all the regulations about cleanness and uncleanness, which were closely connected with the sacrificial system, fell into disuse[49].’
The last instance that I will notice is xix. 31, which is full of the same truth of detail.
‘The Jews therefore, because it was the Preparation, that the bodies should not remain on the cross upon the sabbath (for the day of that sabbath was a high day), asked of Pilate that their legs might be broken, and that they might be taken away.’
The exact nature of the ‘high day’ will depend upon the day of the month, which is disputed. I have little doubt that on St. John’s reckoning it would be Nisan 15, the first day of the feast of unleavened bread, which was to be marked by an ‘holy convocation’ 122(Lev. xxiii. 7), and which, coinciding with the sabbath, would make it a double sabbath. It would also be the day for the offering of the peace-offering or Chagigah. This would be on the Saturday morning: when the Jewish day began (at sunset on Friday) the Jews would be engaged on the paschal meal.
iii. The Temple.
 
The references to the Temple in the Fourth Gospel are marked by the same minute accuracy.
There is a remarkable allusion in ii. 20, where we might paraphrase the force of the aorist by saying in our own idiom, ‘it took forty-six years to build this temple.’ The calculation is exact, though we must suppose the word for temple (να??, ‘the holy place’) to be used somewhat loosely. The building of the Temple appears to have been begun about 20-19 B.C. The holy place or sanctuary proper is said to have been finished in eighteen months; but the whole complex of buildings was not finished till the reign of Nero. Reckoning forty-six years from 19 B.C. we should come to 27 A.D., which suits the chronology of the Life of Christ as well as any date could do. It seems, however, very improbable that the date was arrived at by any elaborate process of calculation. We are in the midst of a multitude of examples of the precise and accurate detail which is characteristic of the Gospel; and the most natural explanation seems to be that the actual words used stuck in the memory of the Apostle, and were reproduced by him just as they were spoken.
123There are two other close specifications of locality in connexion with the Temple. One is the mention of ‘the treasury’ in viii. 20. The name ‘treasury’ (γαζοφυλ?κιον) was given to the thirteen boxes with funnel-shaped openings which stood round the women’s court. This court was not confined to women, and was used indifferently by both sexes; but it was the point beyond which women were not allowed to pass.
The other part of the Temple mentioned is ‘Solomon’s porch’ in x. 23. It is explained that Jesus was walking here because of the season of the year. The time was the Feast of the Dedication, which was held late in December, when those who walked in the open court would be exposed to snow or rain.
These points relating to the Temple are of more importance, because at the time when the Gospel was written the Temple was a heap of ruins, which had long ceased to be frequented for worship, and of which an accurate knowledge could hardly be expected except from a few Rabbinical students, like the author of the tract Middoth, and those who had used the Temple before its destruction.
iv. Sects and Parties.
 
The fall of Jerusalem in 70 A.D. made a great change in the ecclesiastical organization of the Jewish people. During the life of Christ this too had been highly centralized. Both the great parties of Pharisees and Sadducees—especially the latter—had their head quarters in Jerusalem. Jerusalem was the seat of the 124Sanhedrin, in which both parties were represented—the Sadducees in the numerical majority and with the control of executive power, but the Pharisees in closer touch with the people and with the stronger religious influence. In the Gospel we have traces of both parties and in both characters, official and extra-official.
We meet first with the Pharisees, and that in rather peculiar circumstances, but in circumstances which we may be sure existed. We are expressly told (i. 24) that the deputation sent to cross-examine John the Baptist as to the nature of his mission was sent from the Pharisees. Only one party was represented upon it, so that it cannot have been sent by an act of the Sanhedrin as a whole. From the religious point of view the Pharisees would be far more interested in the Baptist and his doings than the Sadducees. At the same time the deputation consisted of official persons (‘priests and Levites from Jerusalem,’ i. 19), who would carry with them a certain authority. Of the nature of their questions we shall have to speak presently.
In this part of our subject we are a little entangled in cross-division, because the same sections of the narrative are interesting in more ways than one. Chap. vii in particular will meet us under several heads; but there is just one section of it that I must ask leave to quote in full, as containing in a small compass a sketch that seems drawn from the life of the Sanhedrin and its ramifications.
‘The officers therefore came to the chief priests 125and Pharisees; and they said unto them, Why did ye not bring him? The officers answered, Never man so spake. The Pharisees therefore answered them, Are ye also led astray? Hath any of the rulers believed on him, or of the Pharisees? But this multitude which knoweth not the law are accursed. Nicodemus saith unto them (he that came to him before, being one of them), Doth our law judge a man, except it first hear from himself and know what he doeth? They answered and said unto him, Art thou also of Galilee? Search, and see that out of Galilee ariseth no prophet’ (vii. 45-52).
The ‘chief priests’ in this Gospel correspond to the Sadducees in the Synoptics; the chief priests and Pharisees together make up the Sanhedrin. This body had its own servants and apparitors, whom it sent to arrest Jesus; and their report is discussed in a debate which we may be sure exactly reproduces the kind of thing that actually happened. ‘Hath any of the rulers believed on him, or of the Pharisees?’ ‘But this multitude which knoweth not the law are accursed.’ ‘Doth our law judge a man, except it first hear from himself and know what he doeth?’ ‘Art thou also of Galilee? Search, and see that out of Galilee ariseth no prophet.’ It is a perfect specimen of the kind of speeches that would be made, and the kind of answers that would be given.
We again get an interior view of the meeting of the Sanhedrin in xi. 47-50. ‘The chief priests therefore and the Pharisees gathered a council, and said, What do we? for this man doeth many signs. If we let him thus alone, all men will believe on him: and the Romans will come and take away both our place and 126our nation. But a certain one of them, Caiaphas, being high priest that year, said unto them, Ye know nothing at all, nor do ye take account that it is expedient for you that one man should die for the people, and that the whole nation perish not.’
Here we are introduced to the politics of the time. ‘The Romans will come and take away both our place and our nation’ was exactly the fear which constantly haunted the minds of the Sadducean aristocracy, but is expressed in such general terms as would appeal most to the Pharisees as well. The haughty Caiaphas makes a speech which, as reported to the Evangelist, he interprets in a sense that was very possibly not that of its author. The high priest may have meant only that as an act of policy a single individual might be made a scapegoat. But the Evangelist, who is himself a true prophet, has so strong a sense of divine overruling in all that happened and of divine inspiration taking hold of men without their will, that he sees in the words a profounder meaning than they were intended to have, though not perhaps than they really had in the counsels of God and to an insight like his own.
Another example of the same attitude of mind meets us a little lower down in another passage that has the same strong marks of verisimilitude.
‘They led Jesus therefore from Caiaphas into the palace: and it was early; and they themselves entered not into the palace, that they might not be defiled, but might eat the passover. Pilate therefore went out unto them, and saith, What accusation bring ye against this 127man? They answered and said unto him, If this man were not an evil-doer, we should not have delivered him up unto thee. Pilate therefore said unto them, Take him yourselves, and judge him according to your law. The Jews said unto him, It is not lawful for us to put any man to death: that the word of Jesus might be fulfilled, which he spake, signifying by what manner of death he should die’ (xviii. 28-32).
There is an often-quoted statement in the Talmud to the effect that the Jews lost the power of capital punishment forty years before the great siege. The Evangelist sees in this a providential appointment designed to verify the Lord’s words, and that His death might take the Roman form (crucifixion) and not the Jewish form (stoning).
There is a singularly fine characterization in the whole narrative of the Trial. Take for instance the following:
‘Upon this Pilate sought to release him: but the Jews cried out, saying, If thou release this man, thou art not C?sar’s friend: every one that maketh himself a king speaketh against C?sar. When Pilate therefore heard these words, he brought Jesus out, and sat down on the judgement-seat at a place called The Pavement, but in Hebrew, Gabbatha. Now it was the Preparation of the passover: it was about the sixth hour. And he saith unto the Jews, Behold, your King! They therefore cried out, Away with him, away with him, crucify him. Pilate saith unto them, Shall I crucify your King? The chief priests answered, We have no king but C?sar’ (xix. 12-15).
The Roman had sufficient sense of justice not to wish to condemn an innocent man. But the accusers 128of Jesus have a weapon that they use against him mercilessly. They know that he was not in the best odour at Rome. His administration of his province through his own wilfulness and harshness, had not been very successful. It was in the later days of Tiberius; and Tiberius thought something of the welfare of the provinces, but thought still more of having in office instruments on whom he could depend for strict subservience to himself. The accusers play their part with cynical adroitness: ‘If thou release this man, thou art not C?sar’s friend;’ ‘We have no king but C?sar.’
v. Jewish Ideas and Dialectic.
 
We are in search of hints and allusions appropriate to the time. The evidence is overwhelming that the author of the Gospel was a Jew, and (as I think) also a Jew of Palestine. The best critics admit this, and it is hardly worth while to stay to prove it; indeed it is incidentally proved by a large proportion of the examples I am giving. But it is of more importance to prove that the author was a contemporary of the events he is describing. Now I will not say that the points I am going to urge exactly prove this. They do, however, I believe, justify us in saying that if the author was really an Apostle, a member of the original Twelve, or closely associated with them, the indications in the Gospel entirely correspond with such a position. If the author was not an Apostle, then he must either have been in a position extremely similar to that of the Apostles, 129or else he must have taken great pains to convey the impression that he was in such a position. The passages I am about to adduce all reflect with great vividness a state of things like that which must have existed in the time of our Lord.
There is just one period in which the Christian Church stood in a relation to Judaism which it never occupied again: that was in its origin. Christianity arose out of the bosom of Judaism. The first disciples reached manhood as Jews; they were witnesses of the process by which Christianity gradually broke loose from Judaism; they themselves underwent a process of conversion; their ideas were modified little by little as they went on, and in the end the new displaced the old. But they had been as familiar with the attitude of their Jewish opponents as they were with their own; they knew the arguments to which the Jews appealed, the prejudices by which they were animated, the language that they used. I repeat, there was one period to which this description applied, and never another in the same degree. The Fourth Gospel is full of instances of this. Let us turn to some of them.
The earlier chapters have been drawn upon rather freely in other connexions: we will therefore begin with chap. iv. How perfect is the local colour of the story of the Samaritan woman![50]
130‘The Samaritan woman therefore saith unto him, How is it that thou, being a Jew, askest drink of me, which am a Samaritan woman?... The woman saith unto him, Sir, thou hast nothing to draw with, and the well is deep: from whence then hast thou that living water? Art thou greater than our father Jacob, which gave us the well, and drank thereof himself, and his sons, and his cattle?’ (iv. 9, 11, 12).
The standing feud between Jews and Samaritans is notorious, and does not need illustrating. ‘The well is deep’ in the most literal sense; the actual depth is about 75 feet. But how appropriate and natural is the appeal to the patriarch Jacob, and the local tradition about him!
131‘The woman saith unto him, Sir, I perceive that thou art a prophet. Our fathers worshipped in this mountain; and ye say, that in Jerusalem is the place where men ought to worship. Jesus saith unto her, Woman, believe me, the hour cometh, when neither in this mountain, nor in Jerusalem, shall ye worship the Father.... The woman saith unto him, I know that Messiah cometh (which is called Christ): when he is come, he will declare unto us all things’ (vers. 19-21, 25).
The natural impression of the discourse to which she was listening upon the woman would be that her interlocutor was a prophet. And her first impulse would be to put to Him the burning question which divided Jews and Samaritans—Was the true centre of worship to be sought in Jerusalem or on Mount Gerizim? It was at one time contended that the Samaritans had no Messianic expectation; but that is now given up. The Samaritans not only had such an expectation, but have it to the present day.
The Jews at Capernaum in chap. vi apply the Pentateuchal history in very much the same way as the Samaritan woman. Some of our modern critics, who have a keen eye for anything to which exception can be taken, and who do not appreciate the simplicity which is not peculiar to St. John but characteristic of the Biblical narrative generally, will say that here we have a ‘schematism,’ a stereotyped formula, which shows poverty of invention. On the contrary, I would describe it as a touch of nature so ingrained in the Jewish habit of mind that it was sure to recur, and harmonizes thoroughly with the historical situation.
132Chap. vii is full of the kind of materials of which we are in search; but the greater proportion of them we will reserve for our next head. I must, however, just refer in passing to the expression of the Jews’ surprise, ‘How knoweth this man letters, having never learned?’ (ver. 15). It is just what would excite the astonishment of the populace that one who seemed to be a simple peasant, and had not been a student in any of the current Rabbinical schools, should yet show himself so well able to deal with the profoundest questions that the Rabbis were in the habit of discussing. This seventh chapter places us in the midst of a society which, with only a slight difference of method, reminds us of the restless curiosity with which we are told that Alexandrian Christians canvassed the metaphysical problems involved in the Arian controversy. In Palestine the dominant influence was Rabbinism; the one idea that the people had of learning was Rabbinical learning; and so entirely did the ‘scribes and Pharisees’ cover the ground that the appearance of a teacher who was neither scribe nor Pharisee was sure to be remarked upon.
A little lower down we have exactly the kind of argument to which the Jewish people were accustomed.
‘The multitude answered, Thou hast a devil: who seeketh to kill thee? Jesus answered and said unto them, I did one work, and ye all marvel. For this cause hath Moses given you circumcision (not that it is of Moses, but of the fathers); and on the sabbath 133ye circumcise a man. If a man receiveth circumcision on the sabbath, that the law of Moses may not be broken; are ye wroth with me, because I made a man every whit whole on the sabbath?’ (vers. 20-3).
I do not think it can be doubted that arguments like this were just what would be constantly heard at the first beginnings of Christianity. But they belong to the time when it was just in the act of differentiating itself from Judaism; and I cannot easily imagine that they would be so clearly realized and so appropriately introduced later.
Of the same kind is much of the discussion in ch. viii. I do not undertake to say that this discussion, or other discussions in the Fourth Gospel, are given exactly as they really happened. I am quite prepared to believe that especially the part in them taken by our Lord Himself was a little different from that which He is represented as taking. But, if I think this, it is because the narrative seems to me (if it is not too much of a paradox to say so) even too true to the time and circumstances in which the discussion took place. No doubt our Lord is represented as holding Himself apart from and above the Jewish controversialists. I feel sure that He did this; but, with the Synoptic Gospels before me, I suspect that He did it in a slightly different, i. e. in a more reserved and—if I may be forgiven the expression—delicate way.
With thus much of preface I will just give a specimen of what I mean by truth to the time and circumstances.
‘The Jews answered and said unto Him, Say we not well that thou art a Samaritan, and hast a devil? 134Jesus answered, I have not a devil; but I honour my Father, and ye dishonour me.... The Jews said unto him, Now we know that thou hast a devil. Abraham is dead, and the prophets; and thou sayest, if a man keep my word, he shall never taste of death. Art thou greater than our father Abraham, which is dead? and the prophets are dead: whom makest thou thyself?’ (vers. 48, 49, 52, 53).
‘Thou art a Samaritan, and hast a devil’; ‘Abraham is dead, and the prophets.’ These are exactly the things that would be said, and that we may be sure were said. But I am not satisfied with the hypothesis that the author who wrote them was a Jew of Palestine. I believe that he was, and must have been, an actual contemporary and eye-witness of what he is recording.
The same conclusion forces itself upon us all through the next chapter, which is steeped in Jewish ideas and customs; and those not Jewish ideas and customs in the abstract, but in direct and close connexion with the Jewish controversy as it existed in the time of our Lord and centring in His person. I single out a few of the verses that illustrate this most vividly.
‘And as he passed by, he saw a man blind from his birth. And his disciples asked him, saying, Rabbi, who did sin, this man, or his parents, that he should be born blind? Jesus answered, Neither did this man sin, nor his parents: but that the works of God should be made manifest in him.... Some therefore of the Pharisees said, This man is not from God, because he keepeth not the sabbath. But others said, How can a man that is a sinner do such signs? And there was a division among them.... He therefore 135answered, Whether he be a sinner, I know not: one thing I know, that, whereas I was blind, now I see. They said therefore unto him, What did he to thee? how opened he thine eyes? He answered them, I told you even now, and ye did not hear: wherefore would ye hear it again? would ye also become his disciples? And they reviled him, and said, Thou art his disciple; but we are disciples of Moses. We know that God hath spoken unto Moses: but as for this man, we know not whence he is. The man answered and said unto them, Why, herein is the marvel, that ye know not whence he is, and yet he opened mine eyes. We know that God heareth not sinners: but if any man be a worshipper of God, and do his will, him he heareth. Since the world began it was never heard that any one opened the eyes of a man born blind. If this man were not from God, he could do nothing. They answered and said unto him, Thou wast altogether born in sins, and dost thou teach us? And they cast him out’ (ix. vers. 1-3, 16, 25-34).
Notice in this the following essentially Jewish ideas: The connexion of sin with physical infirmity, and the speculation as to how far back, in a particular case, this connexion went—whether it was confined to the individual affected himself, or whether it went back to his parents; the observance of the sabbath as indispensable to one who really had a divine mission; in reply to this, the plea that none but a righteous man could work miracles; the relation of discipleship, and the claim of the Pharisees to be in the strict sense Moses’ disciples; and finally, the characteristic abuse of one who bore in his body the mark of having been born in sin, and yet presumed to teach 136doctors of the Law; for such a one expulsion from the synagogue was a fitting penalty[51].
vi. The Messianic Expectation.
 
We have already more than once come across allusions to the Messianic expectation as it existed in the time of Christ. But there are a few examples of this to which it is well that we should direct special attention.
The first is the series of questions put to the Baptist by the deputation which came to test the nature of his mission. They ask him who he is, and he expressly denies that he is the Christ. Is he then Elijah? He replies that he is not. He is once more asked if he is the expected prophet like unto Moses; and to this too he answers, No. His questioners draw the natural inference, and call upon him to explain what is his authority for administering this new rite of baptism, if he had none of these credentials. Thereupon he discriminates between his own mission and that of his greater successor.
It may be contended that this passage was suggested by two parallel groups in the Synoptics, the speculations of Herod Antipas as to our Lord—that He is the Baptist risen from the dead, or Elijah, or a prophet (Mark vi. 14-16; Matt. xiv. 1, 2; Luke ix. 7, 8), and the preliminary of St. Peter’s confession, when the disciples are asked by their Master as to the common opinion about Him and they reply that some supposed Him to 137be the Baptist and others Elijah, and others again, one of the prophets (Mark viii. 27, 28; Matt. xvi. 13, 14; Luke ix. 18, 19).
There are doubtless the two possibilities: the questions attributed to the deputation in St. John, if we suppose that the author was really remote from the events, would be suggested by passages like these; if he was an eye-witness, it would be more probable that they were taken directly from the life, or at least from the personal knowledge of the writer that such ideas were commonly entertained at the time. There are several reasons for thinking that this latter hypothesis is the easier and less artificial. To suppose that the scene was a literary invention would involve the adaptation to the Baptist of what was originally said of Christ. It is also against the supposition that the questions are borrowed from the Synoptists, that in one important point they run directly counter to the Synoptic tradition. When the Baptist is asked if he is Elijah, he says that he is not, whereas the Synoptists persistently identify him with Elijah, and that upon the authority of Christ Himself (Matt. xi. 14; xvii. 10-13; Mark ix. 11-13). There is another noticeable divergence. In St. John the question relates to ‘the prophet,’ with direct reference to Deut. xviii. 15, 18; in the Synoptists the phrase used is ‘a prophet, as one of the prophets,’ or ‘one of the prophets.’ These are the forms of the phrase in St. Mark, which is fundamental. On the second occasion St. Matthew substitutes ‘Jeremiah or one of the prophets’; on both occasions St. Luke has 138‘one of the old prophets is (was) risen again.’ The difference between the two versions is rather marked, though no doubt the Synoptic idea ultimately goes back to Deut. xviii, like the other. For these reasons the hypothesis that St. John is drawing from the life seems distinctly preferable.
Allusion has already been made to some of the popular ideas and to the meeting of the Sanhedrin in chap. vii. That chapter is especially important from our present point of view, that of the Messianic expectation. We see there reproduced with wonderful vividness just such an undercurrent of criticism as we may be sure was constantly going on, particularly in Jerusalem.
‘Some therefore of them of Jerusalem said, Is not this he whom they seek to kill? And lo, he speaketh openly, and they say nothing unto him. Can it be that the rulers indeed know that this is the Christ? Howbeit we know this man whence he is: but when the Christ cometh, no one knoweth whence he is.’
‘But of the multitude many believed on him; and they said, When the Christ shall come, will he do more signs than those which this man hath done?’
‘Some of the multitude therefore, when they heard these words, said, This is of a truth the prophet. Others said, This is the Christ. But some said, What, doth the Christ come out of Galilee? Hath not the Scripture said that the Christ cometh of the seed of David, and from Bethlehem, the village where David was? So there arose a division in the multitude because of him. And some of them would have taken him; but no man laid hands on him.’
‘They answered and said unto him, Art thou also 139of Galilee? Search, and see that out of Galilee ariseth no prophet’ (vers. 25-7, 31, 40-4, 52).
It is to be observed that several of the points in the expectation thus depicted are of a somewhat recondite character. ‘We know this man whence he is: but when the Christ cometh, no one knoweth whence he is.’ This point can be verified, at least approximately. There is a Jewish saying that ‘three things come wholly unexpected, Messiah, a god-send, and a scorpion[52].’ And Justin Martyr alludes to another tradition, that the Messiah would not even know his own mission until he was anointed by Elijah[53]—the idea of this was perhaps suggested by the anointing of David.
Again we note that the writer assumes the point of view of the crowd, according to which Christ was regarded as coming from Nazareth in Galilee, though in any case he had before him the First and Third Gospels which placed His birth in Bethlehem. Not a hint escapes the Evangelist of his knowledge of this, although the point is brought as an objection to our Lord’s Messianic claims. In other words, the Gospel reflects the real state of things in A.D. 28, not the Christian beliefs of A.D. 90. We have to say the same of the test applied by the Sanhedrin, that a prophet was not to be looked for from Galilee.
All these points agree beautifully with the time when Jesus was moving about with His disciples among His countrymen, a time of which the genuine recollection must have been long lost to all those 140Christians who had not themselves actually lived in it. The same comment would have to be made upon the language in which the Evangelist more than once refers to Christ’s mission, or rather the popular conception of it. In vi. 15, the people are represented as coming to take Him by force and make Him king; and at the entry into Jerusalem He is greeted as the King of Israel, and the prophecy of Zechariah is applied to Him, ‘Behold thy King cometh, &c.’ In all this there are evident traces of the unreformed Messianic idea, as associated with political domination. By the year 90 all such ideas must have entirely vanished, and it must have required an effort of mind to recover them which one who had not been himself connected with the events would have had no incentive to make.
I am greatly mistaken if the mass of particulars collected in this lecture does not come home to the mind with great, and even overwhelming, force. In me at least it inspires, and has always inspired ever since I took up the study of the Gospel, a strong conviction that it could only be the work of one who had really lived through the events that he describes. Perhaps there is a little exaggeration in the phrase that it ‘could only be’ such a one. It is the kind of rough approximate phrase that one is apt to use for practical common-sense purposes. Strictly speaking, there is the other alternative, of which we ought not wholly to lose sight, that the author was a second-century Christian, perhaps of 141Jewish descent and with some Jewish training, who by a tour de force threw himself back into the circumstances of the time and had a wonderful success in reproducing them. Dr. Drummond reminds us that there is this alternative.
‘It is sometimes said that to produce an untrue narrative possessing such verisimilitude as the Gospel would have been quite beyond the capacity of any writer of the second century: such an author would be without example; such a work would be a literary miracle. In making this allegation people seem to forget that the book is in any case unique. Whether it be true history, or the offspring of spiritual imagination, or a mixture of both, no one, so far as we know, could have written it in the second or any other century, except the man who did write it; and to assert that an unexampled, unknown, and unmeasured literary genius could not have done this or that appears to me extremely hazardous’ (p. 378 f.).
Perfectly true; there doubtless is the possibility that ‘an unexampled, unknown, and unmeasured literary genius’ could have done what we find. But as a rule, where facts can be explained easily and naturally without having recourse to any such extraordinary assumption, the world is content so to explain them. The practical question is a balance of probabilities. And even now, as in the days of Bishop Butler, probability is the very guide of life.