Here is another theme which will repeat through the rest of John's story:
No one can know God. Jewish people had the words which God had given, and the written stories of what God had done. So they were in the enviable position of being able to know quite a lot about God, much more than other people. But here John tells us that this is not enough. No one has seen God; nobody is intimate enough with God to introduce him.
But this person, the one that is at the centre of this mysterious eulogy, and in fact is the essence of the entire narrative to follow, is intimate with God. Every paragraph, almost every sentence, so far has been telling us this in different ways. But the first sentence (the Word was with God, and the Word was God) is the clearest and most uncompromising until we get to this last sentence of the prologue.
This "One and Only", we have already been told (have a look at the first post "unique glory" for a discussion of this phrase), came from the Father. Now John goes further: this person 'is himself God'. This is a bit weird if one thinks about it. It is clear that in this whole section, John is trying to build a multifaceted picture which will somehow hook us up to a cosmic truth which is too big to fully express. I think that John hopes we'll connect with this at a super-cognitive level, and that this will pull us along through the narrative which follows, forcing us to consider Jesus in more dimensions than we would have otherwise.
In the same way that he struggled in our first paragraph, John wrestles here, within this different image, to help us not to get our ideas too narrow. This person is himself God, but from another perspective he is the only [Son] of the Father, and now he intensifies this: "is in closest relationship with the Father".
But this interprets what is really an image - the one who is in the chest (or bosom, or breast) of the Father. Other translations vary from the old in the bosom of the Father, through nearest the Father's heart, and at the Father's side. to in the intimate presence of the Father. One picture is of a person (most commonly it would be a child) who is snuggled into the upper part of a Father's garment, inside his jacket, very close both physically and emotionally. The other is of someone in the chest cavity of the Father, heart to heart in a sense, sharing everything. The meaning is clear: intimacy of the highest order, including commonality of personality and purpose.
This is the person John is going to tell us about, and we need to be ready, because the point is that he is so close to God that he is able to "make God known". There is someone here worth knowing about; this is a story worth our fullest attention. We are going to need the astonishment that this whole "prologue" has created in us if we are to read with enough dynamic insight to see what John is seeking to communicate with us.
Showing posts with label prologue. Show all posts
Showing posts with label prologue. Show all posts
Wednesday, 2 November 2011
Sunday, 23 October 2011
unique glory (two)
Apart from the (almost incidental) identification of the beings/persons who are the subject of his description, John uses this paragraph to move into another arena: A comparison with other spiritual options. In the second paragraph (life and light) he has already suggested 'the light' is opposed by the darkness (though not overcome by it). Now he takes us further.
We've seen already that this paragraph is about explaining the uniqueness of Jesus; "full of grace-and-truth" is a description of what this uniqueness means, and it must be one of the most evocative phrases there is. It is not in power (whether supernatural, or the ability to draw crowds, or the winning of debate) that John places Jesus' glory, his uniqueness. It is in this combination of grace and truth.
The key phrase in this paragraph (John1:14-17) is "grace and truth". It is rather fascinating that one of these two words, truth, is used repeatedly in the main text of John's story, while the other, grace, is never used again! Just to make up for this, John uses it extra in this bit!
John talks of Jesus as full of grace and truth, and it is out of this fullness that we receive. It is a if Jesus has so much that he overflows, and what overflows to us is grace. Grace is all about someone who gives to the undeserving, who is a companion to the unworthy, who is kind no matter what. John tells us that he and Jesus' other followers had experienced something extraordinary: Jewish people had already received from God and the Bible is clear that this was undeserved, what they already had as God's people was grace. But then Jesus came, and they found themselves receiving more grace, richer grace, more gracious grace, if such a thing is possible.
He explains. The law was given through Moses. The law was very precious; through it people could discover who God is and how he means them to live. This was wonderful. However, more was needed. We needed to see the truth, we needed to touch grace. Moses was involved in the giving of the law, but in Jesus truth and grace came. This is an intensely personal happening, Jesus brought something to us in himself. Jesus is different not only like light is different from darkness, but as the real thing (Jesus=grace&truth) is different from a description (the law). He is different from Moses in the same way as meeting a person is different from hearing about them.
We've seen already that this paragraph is about explaining the uniqueness of Jesus; "full of grace-and-truth" is a description of what this uniqueness means, and it must be one of the most evocative phrases there is. It is not in power (whether supernatural, or the ability to draw crowds, or the winning of debate) that John places Jesus' glory, his uniqueness. It is in this combination of grace and truth.
The key phrase in this paragraph (John1:14-17) is "grace and truth". It is rather fascinating that one of these two words, truth, is used repeatedly in the main text of John's story, while the other, grace, is never used again! Just to make up for this, John uses it extra in this bit!
John talks of Jesus as full of grace and truth, and it is out of this fullness that we receive. It is a if Jesus has so much that he overflows, and what overflows to us is grace. Grace is all about someone who gives to the undeserving, who is a companion to the unworthy, who is kind no matter what. John tells us that he and Jesus' other followers had experienced something extraordinary: Jewish people had already received from God and the Bible is clear that this was undeserved, what they already had as God's people was grace. But then Jesus came, and they found themselves receiving more grace, richer grace, more gracious grace, if such a thing is possible.
He explains. The law was given through Moses. The law was very precious; through it people could discover who God is and how he means them to live. This was wonderful. However, more was needed. We needed to see the truth, we needed to touch grace. Moses was involved in the giving of the law, but in Jesus truth and grace came. This is an intensely personal happening, Jesus brought something to us in himself. Jesus is different not only like light is different from darkness, but as the real thing (Jesus=grace&truth) is different from a description (the law). He is different from Moses in the same way as meeting a person is different from hearing about them.
unique glory (John)
Like the second part of the prologue, this part includes John the Baptiser and has a report of something he said about Jesus which illustrates the main point. There we were told that he (John the Baptiser) came in order to testify to who Jesus was; here we are told a snippet of what he told people.
This sentence tells us that John the Baptiser started talking about Jesus before Jesus actually arrived on the scene. Then, when Jesus was there, he pointed him out as the one he had been telling them about. It is helpful that Jesus didn't simply come "out of the blue" and proclaim himself someone special. There was someone else who knew something of what was happening, and could say that Jesus was from God.
John the Baptiser told people that there was another person coming who was more important than he was. He hinted that this person would be greater because he existed before John himself did. The phrase "he was before me" is a very short statement, and on its own would be rather enigmatic. But here it serves as a brief pointer that what John our Writer is telling us (Jesus is unique, was there is the beginning, came from God and so on) is not merely his own assessment, but links back to what God had John the Baptiser say in advance about Jesus.
John the Writer calls this "testifying", or giving evidence. John the Baptiser was kind of like an expert witness in a court; he had information which other people needed if they were to make a correct assessment of Jesus.
This sentence tells us that John the Baptiser started talking about Jesus before Jesus actually arrived on the scene. Then, when Jesus was there, he pointed him out as the one he had been telling them about. It is helpful that Jesus didn't simply come "out of the blue" and proclaim himself someone special. There was someone else who knew something of what was happening, and could say that Jesus was from God.
John the Baptiser told people that there was another person coming who was more important than he was. He hinted that this person would be greater because he existed before John himself did. The phrase "he was before me" is a very short statement, and on its own would be rather enigmatic. But here it serves as a brief pointer that what John our Writer is telling us (Jesus is unique, was there is the beginning, came from God and so on) is not merely his own assessment, but links back to what God had John the Baptiser say in advance about Jesus.
John the Writer calls this "testifying", or giving evidence. John the Baptiser was kind of like an expert witness in a court; he had information which other people needed if they were to make a correct assessment of Jesus.
Saturday, 10 September 2011
unique glory
John uses this paragraph to gives us more words, both images and concepts, which describe the person he is telling us about. Just like the previous ones, most of these words, and all of the ideas behind the words, will echo through the narrative to come.
The key words here are "full of grace and truth" - but before he comes to this phrase, John takes trouble to point out yet again that this person is unique; he is the one and only who came from the Father. This is an interesting phrase, and we struggle a bit in English because there is no way of translating it which is a elegant, as poetically pointed, as the Greek which is a single word!
I am generally dead against amateurs like you and me messing with translation because after all, if you get 70 of the world's most expert Greek, Hebrew and English specialists together (like they did to create the NIV) how am I likely to clarify things? However what I am doing here is IN NO WAY suggesting an alternative translation, but merely explaining for interested parties why it might sound less elegant than expected, and why some translations use that odd device of adding in the word [Son] - the square brackets mean that it is a word added for clarity, which the translators believe is 'understood' in the original. So, this is just my way of teasing out what John is telling me!
This word is a composite one: The first part is mono, which is totally familiar to us because we use it in much the same way in English, tells us this thing is the only one, or one-of-a-kind. It is fairly simply translated as "only" or "one and only". The second part is the tricky bit it is genos (or at least genous, which merely another part of speech for the same word, like the differerence between love and loved - same meaning but changed form to fit into a different part of a sentence) which has to do with someone being descended from another person, or perhaps a thing which is the same as another and emerges from it. So an old translation uses the word "begotten" of the Father, which we don't use any more. Our NIV 2011 says "Son who came" from the Father. But some people struggle with the idea of Jesus as God's Son because it sounds too biological, too earthy. Now later John will use the normal Greek word for 'son' when he will call Jesus the 'Son of God' and invte us to believe that, but he isn't actually doing that yet. Here he is being more subtle, more complex, more abstract.
I think here John is trying to portray that Jesus is someone whose relationship with God can't be described in the normal ways. We've already see this in the first paragraph with the multiple descriptions of the Word with respect to God. Now he is finding another way of saying that Jesus is 'the same as' God but 'distinct from' God also. For good measure, in case another is tempted to say, "Oh, well, of course we all come from God, after all he made us," or words to that effect, John puts in the prefix mono. The only one like this.
It is this glory that John and his companions saw as they lived with Jesus. This is the glory he is going to tell us more about. It is a glory which is inherent in the nature of this unique person. As we will see, this glory can be described by the phrase: full of grace and truth.
The key words here are "full of grace and truth" - but before he comes to this phrase, John takes trouble to point out yet again that this person is unique; he is the one and only who came from the Father. This is an interesting phrase, and we struggle a bit in English because there is no way of translating it which is a elegant, as poetically pointed, as the Greek which is a single word!
I am generally dead against amateurs like you and me messing with translation because after all, if you get 70 of the world's most expert Greek, Hebrew and English specialists together (like they did to create the NIV) how am I likely to clarify things? However what I am doing here is IN NO WAY suggesting an alternative translation, but merely explaining for interested parties why it might sound less elegant than expected, and why some translations use that odd device of adding in the word [Son] - the square brackets mean that it is a word added for clarity, which the translators believe is 'understood' in the original. So, this is just my way of teasing out what John is telling me!
This word is a composite one: The first part is mono, which is totally familiar to us because we use it in much the same way in English, tells us this thing is the only one, or one-of-a-kind. It is fairly simply translated as "only" or "one and only". The second part is the tricky bit it is genos (or at least genous, which merely another part of speech for the same word, like the differerence between love and loved - same meaning but changed form to fit into a different part of a sentence) which has to do with someone being descended from another person, or perhaps a thing which is the same as another and emerges from it. So an old translation uses the word "begotten" of the Father, which we don't use any more. Our NIV 2011 says "Son who came" from the Father. But some people struggle with the idea of Jesus as God's Son because it sounds too biological, too earthy. Now later John will use the normal Greek word for 'son' when he will call Jesus the 'Son of God' and invte us to believe that, but he isn't actually doing that yet. Here he is being more subtle, more complex, more abstract.
I think here John is trying to portray that Jesus is someone whose relationship with God can't be described in the normal ways. We've already see this in the first paragraph with the multiple descriptions of the Word with respect to God. Now he is finding another way of saying that Jesus is 'the same as' God but 'distinct from' God also. For good measure, in case another is tempted to say, "Oh, well, of course we all come from God, after all he made us," or words to that effect, John puts in the prefix mono. The only one like this.
It is this glory that John and his companions saw as they lived with Jesus. This is the glory he is going to tell us more about. It is a glory which is inherent in the nature of this unique person. As we will see, this glory can be described by the phrase: full of grace and truth.
Thursday, 8 September 2011
So who is this person?
So, onward with John's poetic prologue. We move to the next paragraph John 1:14-17 which matches the paragraph about life and light in several ways. The most obvious is that each has a parenthesis about John (the Baptiser) and his witness to Jesus. The initial sentence in this paragraph is about 'coming among us' and in the earlier paragraph the last sentence is about 'coming into the world'. This doesn't mean that there is no resonance with the other paragraphs though!
One of the important things that happens in this paragraph is that John clearly identifies who he is writing about. He starts by referring to the person he is speaking about as 'the Word' (this is the only time after the first verse); he ends by refering to Jesus Christ. In between, he introduces the term 'the one and only' which he will use in the next paragraph. So now we have the name of this person. This is important for connecting us with the historical narrative which follows. We know that this first bit is not random, but inviting us into the story of Jesus.
We are given more understanding of what John is asking us to be open to. Up to now he has just said that the one he is talking about 'came' into the world. This could mean some other sort of esoteric 'appearing'. But here we are told that he 'became flesh', or became body. If we have been reading closely up to now, this should astonish us. We have been told that this being is cosmic in power and universal in significance; now we are told that he became animal, in the sense of consisting of muscle and bone. That is hugely difficult to get our minds around, but John doesn't labour the point here.
He is going to give us the rest of the story to come to terms with what he has said and some of what it might mean. Right now what he is doing is planting the thought in our minds so that the story is able to ask us the questions as we go along.
One of the important things that happens in this paragraph is that John clearly identifies who he is writing about. He starts by referring to the person he is speaking about as 'the Word' (this is the only time after the first verse); he ends by refering to Jesus Christ. In between, he introduces the term 'the one and only' which he will use in the next paragraph. So now we have the name of this person. This is important for connecting us with the historical narrative which follows. We know that this first bit is not random, but inviting us into the story of Jesus.
We are given more understanding of what John is asking us to be open to. Up to now he has just said that the one he is talking about 'came' into the world. This could mean some other sort of esoteric 'appearing'. But here we are told that he 'became flesh', or became body. If we have been reading closely up to now, this should astonish us. We have been told that this being is cosmic in power and universal in significance; now we are told that he became animal, in the sense of consisting of muscle and bone. That is hugely difficult to get our minds around, but John doesn't labour the point here.
He is going to give us the rest of the story to come to terms with what he has said and some of what it might mean. Right now what he is doing is planting the thought in our minds so that the story is able to ask us the questions as we go along.
Tuesday, 23 August 2011
into the world
We arrive at the centre section of the prologue. John 1:10-13. In a sense this is the crux (for more about this, see the next post, another aside) of the whole piece and tells us clearly what the point is.
John (our writer, not the Baptiser) is a skilled poetic craftsman; we have just been told that the 'true light was coming into the world' with the word "world" making a connector for us into this new section, where it is the main focus. Up to now John has been giving us reason to become curious, or even excited, about this person, this being whom he is introducing. Now he tells us what happened when he came among people; how did other people react to him?
Although he doesn't state this, we can see that he is preparing his readers to respond eventually to having read about this person. In summarising the response of 'the world' he plants the seed of an idea: I too will have to make up my mind, to make some kind of choice.
So, what did happen? Well, in short, nothing.
He is the maker of the world, of people, but when he came he was not recognised. Recognised is a word with two complementary senses: people didn't even realise who he was and people didn't acknowledge who he was. Perhaps there is something of both senses in many people, a kind of interweaving: not realising because of an unwillingness to acknowledge and inability to acknowledge because of an unwillingness to see. Even though he made us.
It goes deeper. He came into the world, among people. But he came to people who belonged to him. Of course everyone belongs to him in the sense that we were all made by him. However he didn't just pitch up somewhere arbitrary and expect everyone to catch on. He came into a time and place where there were people who had been prepared over millenia to recognise him. These people were 'his own' in a special way; yet they too did not receive him.
All this prepares us for a major theme in the narrative to follow: John records for us the enormity of the conflict created by the people who were most versed in the writings which carried the story of God's actions in his world and his words to this people who were meant to recognise him when he came.
This is a point of tension. John has built up a sense of anticipation: He came ... we expect wonder and amazement, but what we get is ... nothing. It all falls flat.
But John opens up a small window for us in the blank wall of non: yet there were some ... some who received, some who believed.
If we have been reading with responsive attention this will come as a relief, but also it will raise the question for us of what happened then. If a few people did recognise him, what did he do with them? Did it make any difference, was it enough?
Something did happen. But, typical of John, his description of this is somewhat enigmatic, and can leave us wondering what on earth he means. It sounds wonderful, but ...
These people, the ones who did recognise this person, were given something: the right ...
We talk a lot about rights these days. There are human rights, things that the global community has talked about and decided everybody should be given the opportunity to have, or to which everyone should have access. The idea is that everyone should work together to make sure that everyone else is in a position to have these things. Consitutions of nations usually confer certain rights on their citizens (sometimes in addition to the basic human rights given to everyone living in the country). The Roman world was no different, and the different rights of different levels of person within the empire was stark. Belonging to organizations often confers rights on the members. The rights, of course, assume parallel privileges, power (or ability) and responsibility otherwise it all breaks down. Members pay dues and go to meetings if they want to use facilities; citizens uphold the law and pay taxes if they want to use the utilities and stay out of gaol. The word right is not merely about entitlement, but includes multiple aspects if it is to refer to fully active reality.
... the privilege, the power and the responsibility of becoming children of God.
Well, we all know quite a lot about rights, but the idea of being a child of God is a bit more tricky. John knows this and he gives us some help, in the form of negatives. This is not a birth which is determined by others - human decision or a husband choosing. I don't think, by the way, that John means these two phrases to be different, but rather to be comprehensive ... it is the actions, the choices of humans (not God) and other humans (not the individual themselves) that results in a person being born. Although one could interpret it as: the choice of a couple to love each other, engage in sexual intercourse and have a child; or even merely a husband forcing his choice on a woman. It also has nothing to with genetics, which determines so much of our lives - from hair colour to academic chances, from dominant hand to sporting ability. All the normal determiners are irrelevant here: the only prior is receiving the person John is introducing. The result is all to do with God: born of God.
There is no further explanation here. But the image can take root in our consciousness; a picture of belonging, of family. We can carry this with us as a question, or maybe simply a quest.
John (our writer, not the Baptiser) is a skilled poetic craftsman; we have just been told that the 'true light was coming into the world' with the word "world" making a connector for us into this new section, where it is the main focus. Up to now John has been giving us reason to become curious, or even excited, about this person, this being whom he is introducing. Now he tells us what happened when he came among people; how did other people react to him?
Although he doesn't state this, we can see that he is preparing his readers to respond eventually to having read about this person. In summarising the response of 'the world' he plants the seed of an idea: I too will have to make up my mind, to make some kind of choice.
So, what did happen? Well, in short, nothing.
He is the maker of the world, of people, but when he came he was not recognised. Recognised is a word with two complementary senses: people didn't even realise who he was and people didn't acknowledge who he was. Perhaps there is something of both senses in many people, a kind of interweaving: not realising because of an unwillingness to acknowledge and inability to acknowledge because of an unwillingness to see. Even though he made us.
It goes deeper. He came into the world, among people. But he came to people who belonged to him. Of course everyone belongs to him in the sense that we were all made by him. However he didn't just pitch up somewhere arbitrary and expect everyone to catch on. He came into a time and place where there were people who had been prepared over millenia to recognise him. These people were 'his own' in a special way; yet they too did not receive him.
All this prepares us for a major theme in the narrative to follow: John records for us the enormity of the conflict created by the people who were most versed in the writings which carried the story of God's actions in his world and his words to this people who were meant to recognise him when he came.
This is a point of tension. John has built up a sense of anticipation: He came ... we expect wonder and amazement, but what we get is ... nothing. It all falls flat.
But John opens up a small window for us in the blank wall of non: yet there were some ... some who received, some who believed.
If we have been reading with responsive attention this will come as a relief, but also it will raise the question for us of what happened then. If a few people did recognise him, what did he do with them? Did it make any difference, was it enough?
Something did happen. But, typical of John, his description of this is somewhat enigmatic, and can leave us wondering what on earth he means. It sounds wonderful, but ...
These people, the ones who did recognise this person, were given something: the right ...
We talk a lot about rights these days. There are human rights, things that the global community has talked about and decided everybody should be given the opportunity to have, or to which everyone should have access. The idea is that everyone should work together to make sure that everyone else is in a position to have these things. Consitutions of nations usually confer certain rights on their citizens (sometimes in addition to the basic human rights given to everyone living in the country). The Roman world was no different, and the different rights of different levels of person within the empire was stark. Belonging to organizations often confers rights on the members. The rights, of course, assume parallel privileges, power (or ability) and responsibility otherwise it all breaks down. Members pay dues and go to meetings if they want to use facilities; citizens uphold the law and pay taxes if they want to use the utilities and stay out of gaol. The word right is not merely about entitlement, but includes multiple aspects if it is to refer to fully active reality.
... the privilege, the power and the responsibility of becoming children of God.
Well, we all know quite a lot about rights, but the idea of being a child of God is a bit more tricky. John knows this and he gives us some help, in the form of negatives. This is not a birth which is determined by others - human decision or a husband choosing. I don't think, by the way, that John means these two phrases to be different, but rather to be comprehensive ... it is the actions, the choices of humans (not God) and other humans (not the individual themselves) that results in a person being born. Although one could interpret it as: the choice of a couple to love each other, engage in sexual intercourse and have a child; or even merely a husband forcing his choice on a woman. It also has nothing to with genetics, which determines so much of our lives - from hair colour to academic chances, from dominant hand to sporting ability. All the normal determiners are irrelevant here: the only prior is receiving the person John is introducing. The result is all to do with God: born of God.
There is no further explanation here. But the image can take root in our consciousness; a picture of belonging, of family. We can carry this with us as a question, or maybe simply a quest.
Tuesday, 16 August 2011
So, why are we talking about the light?
It is as if a piece of the story escapes; it intrudes into the poetry of the prologue and turns out to fit perfectly. In fact, by this device of an 'extraneous' comment, John gives us the first indication that this is not going to be a Grand Myth, like a Greek tragedy played out only on the stage. Introducing a human with a name and a history demonstrates that in spite of the cosmic and global implications, this is the report of something that really happened in space and time, with living people.
A person came from God, the same God that we read about a few sentences ago, and he was a real person called John. (Note: This is not our John, the one wrting the record; it is the John which the other records call John the Baptiser. John was a very common name as it is today, and of course they didn't use surnames.) God sent him for a reason which has to do with the coming of the light, but our writer makes sure we realise that John (the Baptiser) is NOT the light. Now, this would be an important thing to clarify for anyone who had doubts, but as far as I can see by the time John the Writer was composing his record this was hardly necessary.
However, it serves to tell us something deeper. John the Baptiser was a special person because her was sent from God, which is fairly unique. But he is sent only as a witness concerning the one introduced as the light. He is meant to make it possible for other people to believe. This inserts the realisation that this light is every bit as important as we can possibly guess, since God himself sends a person especially to introduce the light!
The interesting thing is we have still not been told that 'the light' is human. All we know is that this One, who is identified with God (as the Word) is also crucial to the entire human race. In the mean time, John has sneaked in another word that will be repeatedly part of his narative: "believe".
Okay, the 'sideline' with it's suggestive information is over, and we return to the abstract metaphysics:
This light John designates as the true light; it is the real thing, genuine and authentic, the actual opposite of darkness. More than that, he describes it as universal; all people have some measure of light, and it is this light. We begin to realise that for John, everything else can be considered darkness.
Now, right at the end of this section, when we have already been given so much that will reverberate in our minds, only now are we told the key to the whole story: this light was coming into the world. And so now we are aware of what the fuss is about.
A person came from God, the same God that we read about a few sentences ago, and he was a real person called John. (Note: This is not our John, the one wrting the record; it is the John which the other records call John the Baptiser. John was a very common name as it is today, and of course they didn't use surnames.) God sent him for a reason which has to do with the coming of the light, but our writer makes sure we realise that John (the Baptiser) is NOT the light. Now, this would be an important thing to clarify for anyone who had doubts, but as far as I can see by the time John the Writer was composing his record this was hardly necessary.
However, it serves to tell us something deeper. John the Baptiser was a special person because her was sent from God, which is fairly unique. But he is sent only as a witness concerning the one introduced as the light. He is meant to make it possible for other people to believe. This inserts the realisation that this light is every bit as important as we can possibly guess, since God himself sends a person especially to introduce the light!
The interesting thing is we have still not been told that 'the light' is human. All we know is that this One, who is identified with God (as the Word) is also crucial to the entire human race. In the mean time, John has sneaked in another word that will be repeatedly part of his narative: "believe".
Okay, the 'sideline' with it's suggestive information is over, and we return to the abstract metaphysics:
This light John designates as the true light; it is the real thing, genuine and authentic, the actual opposite of darkness. More than that, he describes it as universal; all people have some measure of light, and it is this light. We begin to realise that for John, everything else can be considered darkness.
Now, right at the end of this section, when we have already been given so much that will reverberate in our minds, only now are we told the key to the whole story: this light was coming into the world. And so now we are aware of what the fuss is about.
Just in time to move into a section where the whole metaphor of light is completely ignored!
Saturday, 13 August 2011
light and life (part two)
Most languages and cultures use the image of light in metaphors built into the language, and most philosophies (whether religion or ideology) use it too. In English we use "enlightenment", in both technical and non-technical senses, when we are referring to a movement from superstition to actual understanding, or for new attitudes emerging from recognition of new information. The same word is used in Buddhism and many new age religions to describe the major spiritual change offered to the diligent disciple. More mundane examples: it dawned on me = I realised, we often cartoon a idea as a light bulb.
So John now puts the light in a context: darkness, of course. The whole point of light is that it shines in the darkness and stops it being dark.
John never tells us what the light means, and there are all sorts of pronouncements as to what precisely he intends. But, if someone uses an image it is usually because the idea is too rich for more precise ways of describing it. We are not meant to define the light; at this point we are meant to get a picture inside us that will keep popping up to make us wonder about this person who will be the subject of the narrative. In a sense, the more the image bounces around in our heads creating resonances, the better for John's purpose. This is poetry, not systematic analysis.
But, that doesn't mean that John doesn't tell us anything about the light. It doesn't mean that I can take the image and turn it to my own purposes.
John elaborates by extending the image: "The light shines in the darkness ..." It is obvious in a silly way, but this is important. Light is not darkness, it dissapates darkness. This goes further in that the darkness has not overcome/understood the light. In most translations one of these two words occurs in the text, and the other in a footnote, because the Greek word is ambiguous; it means both. We shouldn't try to work out which is the meaning here, but should discover the vitality of both meanings held together. (We have two English words that give a similar feel: comprehend - to understand or to surround and limit; grasp - to understand or to hold onto and not let go.) Darkness is helpless with respect to light. It has no hold on light, it can't limit light, it can't stop light, it can't even 'understand' light. John shows us that we are not talking about two equal entities or qualities, a sort of ying and yang that are both necessary and must be balanced, held together, and even mixed. Darkness is not light, and ultimately cannot co-exist with it.
Now we have this explosive graphic idea in our minds, John breaks off for his little piece of story ...
So John now puts the light in a context: darkness, of course. The whole point of light is that it shines in the darkness and stops it being dark.
John never tells us what the light means, and there are all sorts of pronouncements as to what precisely he intends. But, if someone uses an image it is usually because the idea is too rich for more precise ways of describing it. We are not meant to define the light; at this point we are meant to get a picture inside us that will keep popping up to make us wonder about this person who will be the subject of the narrative. In a sense, the more the image bounces around in our heads creating resonances, the better for John's purpose. This is poetry, not systematic analysis.
But, that doesn't mean that John doesn't tell us anything about the light. It doesn't mean that I can take the image and turn it to my own purposes.
John elaborates by extending the image: "The light shines in the darkness ..." It is obvious in a silly way, but this is important. Light is not darkness, it dissapates darkness. This goes further in that the darkness has not overcome/understood the light. In most translations one of these two words occurs in the text, and the other in a footnote, because the Greek word is ambiguous; it means both. We shouldn't try to work out which is the meaning here, but should discover the vitality of both meanings held together. (We have two English words that give a similar feel: comprehend - to understand or to surround and limit; grasp - to understand or to hold onto and not let go.) Darkness is helpless with respect to light. It has no hold on light, it can't limit light, it can't stop light, it can't even 'understand' light. John shows us that we are not talking about two equal entities or qualities, a sort of ying and yang that are both necessary and must be balanced, held together, and even mixed. Darkness is not light, and ultimately cannot co-exist with it.
Now we have this explosive graphic idea in our minds, John breaks off for his little piece of story ...
Thursday, 11 August 2011
light and life (part one)
In this next part of John's prologue (before-word) we get introduced to more of his abstract style, his unique words and his creative imagery.
John 1:4-9
John loves to use convolution in the way he organises the material he is presenting. Not for him the linear logical progression or the chronological narative movement. Here we see this in the way he uses an elipsis of thought; that is, the main thing he is telling us is interupted by an aside which complements it.
The main part is abstract cosmic/global imagery which tells us more about the One he is introducing. (verses 4,5&9) The secondary part introduces us to John (the Baptiser) and is almost narrative. (verses 6-8)
We will see this technique again in the fourth section of the prologue, and then several times as we explore the main narative flow of John.
As John continues his masterful manipulation of words (see previous post) here, we are introduced also to another of his quirks. There are a number of words which are unevenly but repeatedly sprinkled though his story; these words partly work as connectors to carry us through the narative. However they also serve to carry meaning from one section to another gradually interlinking disparate events to create, possibly without his readers even realising it, the abstract picture he wishes to leave us with.
The Life, The Light
The two words which John uses here are "life" and "light", ad we will encounter both of these again in key moments in John's record. He is still telling us about "the Word", but he never uses that appelation again, except for once in the fourth section of the prologue. From now on, until we are well into the introductory stories, this person is mainly refered to by pronouns.
"In him was life..." John has already told us that nothing was created without him, but now he gets more intense; not only did he make all 'stuff', but life (so much more than mere matter, as we all experience, even as we try to make it in the laboratory) was in him. He didn't just make it, that was 'all things'; he has life or perhaps in a manner of speaking is life (as he himself will say later). However it is phrased, John is clear that life is initimately connected with this person. Later, as he repeatedly uses the word, we will discover his plan to invest this idea with a deeper and richer meaning than we normally afford it. But even here, in identifying 'that life' as 'the light of all people', John gives us a clue that there is more involved than we might expect. For anyone familiar with Genesis, already recalled by the first phrase of John's writing, there could be a connection set up with Genesis 2 which refers to God beathing the 'breath of life' into the nostrils of the person he had formed.
Now we are introduced (this is after all the prologue, and it is so carefully crafted that every sentence has something new in it) to yet another word: "light". This word will resonate though the rest of John's work (and his other works as well) as much or more than the word "life". Light is metaphorical and is identified with 'that life'.
Of course, for readers familiar with the Jewish Scriptures and the words 'in the beginning' still in their minds, the light recalls the first recorded command of God in Genesis 1: "Let there be light." In identifying light with life John moves into the symbolic world. And now for the first time he introduces people because this life, his life, is the light of all people (see next post). So now we know that we are talking in philosophical pictures.
John 1:4-9
John loves to use convolution in the way he organises the material he is presenting. Not for him the linear logical progression or the chronological narative movement. Here we see this in the way he uses an elipsis of thought; that is, the main thing he is telling us is interupted by an aside which complements it.
The main part is abstract cosmic/global imagery which tells us more about the One he is introducing. (verses 4,5&9) The secondary part introduces us to John (the Baptiser) and is almost narrative. (verses 6-8)
We will see this technique again in the fourth section of the prologue, and then several times as we explore the main narative flow of John.
As John continues his masterful manipulation of words (see previous post) here, we are introduced also to another of his quirks. There are a number of words which are unevenly but repeatedly sprinkled though his story; these words partly work as connectors to carry us through the narative. However they also serve to carry meaning from one section to another gradually interlinking disparate events to create, possibly without his readers even realising it, the abstract picture he wishes to leave us with.
The Life, The Light
The two words which John uses here are "life" and "light", ad we will encounter both of these again in key moments in John's record. He is still telling us about "the Word", but he never uses that appelation again, except for once in the fourth section of the prologue. From now on, until we are well into the introductory stories, this person is mainly refered to by pronouns.
"In him was life..." John has already told us that nothing was created without him, but now he gets more intense; not only did he make all 'stuff', but life (so much more than mere matter, as we all experience, even as we try to make it in the laboratory) was in him. He didn't just make it, that was 'all things'; he has life or perhaps in a manner of speaking is life (as he himself will say later). However it is phrased, John is clear that life is initimately connected with this person. Later, as he repeatedly uses the word, we will discover his plan to invest this idea with a deeper and richer meaning than we normally afford it. But even here, in identifying 'that life' as 'the light of all people', John gives us a clue that there is more involved than we might expect. For anyone familiar with Genesis, already recalled by the first phrase of John's writing, there could be a connection set up with Genesis 2 which refers to God beathing the 'breath of life' into the nostrils of the person he had formed.
Now we are introduced (this is after all the prologue, and it is so carefully crafted that every sentence has something new in it) to yet another word: "light". This word will resonate though the rest of John's work (and his other works as well) as much or more than the word "life". Light is metaphorical and is identified with 'that life'.
Of course, for readers familiar with the Jewish Scriptures and the words 'in the beginning' still in their minds, the light recalls the first recorded command of God in Genesis 1: "Let there be light." In identifying light with life John moves into the symbolic world. And now for the first time he introduces people because this life, his life, is the light of all people (see next post). So now we know that we are talking in philosophical pictures.
... to be continued
Friday, 3 June 2011
what's in a word?
"'When I use a word,’ Humpty Dumpty said in rather a scornful tone, ‘it means just what I choose it to mean — neither more nor less.’
’The question is,’ said Alice, ‘whether you can make words mean so many different things.’
’The question is,’ said Humpty Dumpty, ‘which is to be master — that’s all." ""
— Lewis Carroll (Through The Looking Glass)
’The question is,’ said Alice, ‘whether you can make words mean so many different things.’
’The question is,’ said Humpty Dumpty, ‘which is to be master — that’s all." ""
— Lewis Carroll (Through The Looking Glass)
John uses words, not merely lots of words (25 pages of them in my Bible), but words used to invite us into worlds beyond words. He uses them, not just to tell his story engagingly, but to place his account of what he experienced in a symbolic world (Luke Timothy Johnson's phrase in The Writings of the New Testament) which will enable his readers to connect themselves with the multifaceted consequence of what happened.
The first word to strike us is 'Word'; it occurs three times in the the three simple phrases of the first sentence of John. That is a lot. John is in the habit of reusing significant conceptual words at intervals throughout his narrative, but this very first one he now abandons except for one repeat in verse 14.
So, what does this 'Word' mean; why does John use it?
It was a word in current use at the time John wrote; a definitely 'in' word. Word was used by several philosophical and spiritual groups to convey concepts which were not identical, but were all groping after the arcane and intangible 'thing' behind and above.
For a long time Greek culture had had a special appreciation for reason; whole palces and jobs in society were devoted to reasoning. But around the time of John, educated Greek people were talking about The Word as an almost personalised reason which was the greater 'thing' in the universe giving meaning and making it all work; this was a philosophical replacement for the pantheon of gods which people had begun to find intellectually dissatisfying.
In Hebrew thought, the idea of The Word (of God) was in any case quite near the surface of religious philosophy, since God speaking and acting were almost interchangeable; in fact creation in Genesis 1 all happens through speech. However, near the time of John, at least one of the more passionate groups within the Jewish community had begun to use The Word with a sense of more agency, again almost personalising it.
John comes along and plunders the philosphical context in which he writes. He wants to connect with his readers; he wants to grab our interest with a basis which will give him a foundation to work from. Everyone had heard this Word used; probably not many of them had any clear idea what they or anyone else meant by it. So John starts to infuse it with new meaning and new mystery in his careful, clever first few sentences.
The Word ... John's description
John takes us right back to the beginning; he doesn't define it, since he is not embarking on a scientific or even philoshophical treatise. He just wants us to get the picture that at the start, before anything else, The Word existed. Then, with a thought for those of his readers who come from a background which includes the monotheistic (one single God only) idea of God, John places the Word with God; because of course all these people would know that in the beginning God ... But of course this is not enough as a description of the relationship between the Word and God; John wants to clarify that the Word is not another entity alongside God, that is not at all what he wants to say. So he tells us that the Word was God, they are one and the same, but what he has already said prepares us for some kind of undefined complexity.
Now, to get on with exploring the Word, John reiterates both the 'beginningness' and the intensity of relationship to God which characterise the Word. He goes on to the Word's presence in the act of the creation of everything. For his Jewish readers this further identifies him with God, who they know as the creator of all things; for his other readers this gives them further information about what it means to talk about God. Then, to make quite certain we have all got the point, he tells us that nothing that exists came about without the Word. He is not just one among others, before there was anything, there was only him.
None of this defines the Word, or God, or the relationship of the Word with God. But somehow, in these incredibly compact sentences, John plants a seed of comprehension for us. Even more, he prepares us to be amazed; he opens us to journey through paradox and wonder.
The first word to strike us is 'Word'; it occurs three times in the the three simple phrases of the first sentence of John. That is a lot. John is in the habit of reusing significant conceptual words at intervals throughout his narrative, but this very first one he now abandons except for one repeat in verse 14.
So, what does this 'Word' mean; why does John use it?
It was a word in current use at the time John wrote; a definitely 'in' word. Word was used by several philosophical and spiritual groups to convey concepts which were not identical, but were all groping after the arcane and intangible 'thing' behind and above.
For a long time Greek culture had had a special appreciation for reason; whole palces and jobs in society were devoted to reasoning. But around the time of John, educated Greek people were talking about The Word as an almost personalised reason which was the greater 'thing' in the universe giving meaning and making it all work; this was a philosophical replacement for the pantheon of gods which people had begun to find intellectually dissatisfying.
In Hebrew thought, the idea of The Word (of God) was in any case quite near the surface of religious philosophy, since God speaking and acting were almost interchangeable; in fact creation in Genesis 1 all happens through speech. However, near the time of John, at least one of the more passionate groups within the Jewish community had begun to use The Word with a sense of more agency, again almost personalising it.
John comes along and plunders the philosphical context in which he writes. He wants to connect with his readers; he wants to grab our interest with a basis which will give him a foundation to work from. Everyone had heard this Word used; probably not many of them had any clear idea what they or anyone else meant by it. So John starts to infuse it with new meaning and new mystery in his careful, clever first few sentences.
The Word ... John's description
John takes us right back to the beginning; he doesn't define it, since he is not embarking on a scientific or even philoshophical treatise. He just wants us to get the picture that at the start, before anything else, The Word existed. Then, with a thought for those of his readers who come from a background which includes the monotheistic (one single God only) idea of God, John places the Word with God; because of course all these people would know that in the beginning God ... But of course this is not enough as a description of the relationship between the Word and God; John wants to clarify that the Word is not another entity alongside God, that is not at all what he wants to say. So he tells us that the Word was God, they are one and the same, but what he has already said prepares us for some kind of undefined complexity.
Now, to get on with exploring the Word, John reiterates both the 'beginningness' and the intensity of relationship to God which characterise the Word. He goes on to the Word's presence in the act of the creation of everything. For his Jewish readers this further identifies him with God, who they know as the creator of all things; for his other readers this gives them further information about what it means to talk about God. Then, to make quite certain we have all got the point, he tells us that nothing that exists came about without the Word. He is not just one among others, before there was anything, there was only him.
None of this defines the Word, or God, or the relationship of the Word with God. But somehow, in these incredibly compact sentences, John plants a seed of comprehension for us. Even more, he prepares us to be amazed; he opens us to journey through paradox and wonder.
Sunday, 29 May 2011
cosmic prologue
Before he even gets to the introduction, John gives us a startling glance at the cosmic origins and implications of the narrative which we are about to read.
John 1:1-18
He starts with pre-space and non-time; he uses multidimensional images; he moves through the enitire world of being human; and he imagines seeing God. But in this telescopic whirlwind of transcendence, John places two small ellipses (like this, in brackets, only Greek doesn't have brackets) which prepare us as readers for the sudden entry into tangible history which will happen in the next sentence.
It really is a glance - less than half a page when the rest of his account is 25 pages. At the end of his account, there is a corresponding epilogue after the conclusion. It is even more brief, at only one sentence!
It is almost as if John wants us to be ready to assess his narrative in the cosmic context, but he wants Jesus' life to speak for him. So he primes us, but then never comes back to force the issue.
1:1-3 The Word
1:4-9 The Light (ellipsis 1:6-8 John the Witness)
1:10-13 Receiving
1:14-17 Grace and Truth (ellipsis 1:15 The Witness of John)
1:18 Revealing God
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