John 21 - The New International Commentary
1 The phrase “after these things,” following close on “these things” (20:31), signals that there is at least one more resurrection appearance to come: “After these things, Jesus revealed himself again to the disciples, at the lake of Tiberias. And he revealed like this” (v. 1). That he revealed himself “again”* implies that this is what he has done before (although the same words were not used) in Jerusalem, first in a garden (20:16) and then twice in a locked room (20:19–20, 26–27). The vocabulary of “revealing”* is thoroughly characteristic of this Gospel. John’s intent from the start was that Jesus be “revealed to Israel” (1:31); at Cana he “revealed his glory” (2:11); his brothers urged him to “reveal yourself to the world” (7:4); in the course of time he did just that, and in the end he was able to tell the Father, “I revealed your name to the men you gave me out of the world” (17:6). But these “revelations” are different. Now that Jesus is risen, “revealing himself” means establishing his identity as the Crucified One, the Jesus his disciples have known all along. He did this for Mary Magdalene by speaking her name (20:16), for the gathered male disciples by showing them his hands and his side (20:20), and for Thomas by inviting his touch (20:27). Now we learn that he did it one more time in a very different venue, “at the lake of Tiberias” (identified earlier with the lake of Galilee; see 6:1).
F. The Third Appearance and Simon Peter’s Commission (21:1–25)
After these things, Jesus revealed himself again to the disciples, at the lake of Tiberias. And he revealed like this: there were together Simon Peter, and Thomas, the one called Didymos, and Nathanael, the one from Cana of Galilee, and the sons of Zebedee, and two others of the disciples. Simon Peter says to them, “I’m going fishing.” They say to him, “We too are coming with you.” They went out and got into the boat, and in that night they caught nothing. But as soon as early morning had come, Jesus stood on the shore, yet the disciples did not know that it was Jesus. Then Jesus says to them, “Lads, do you have any catch?” They answered him, “No,” and he said to them, “Throw the net to the right side of the boat, and you will find.” So they threw, and they were no longer strong enough to draw it in because of the great number of fish. Then that disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, “It is the Lord.” Then Simon Peter, hearing that “It is the Lord,” secured the outer garment (for he was naked), and threw himself into the lake, and the other disciples came in the boat (for they were not far from the land, about two hundred cubits), dragging the net of fish. Then when they got out onto the land, they see a charcoal fire laid, and fish laid on, and bread. Jesus says to them, “Bring some of the fish you caught just now.” So Simon Peter went up and drew the net onto the land, full of 153 great fish, and even with so many the net was not torn. Jesus says to them, “Come, have breakfast.” And none of the disciples dared inquire of him, “Who are you?”—knowing that “It is the Lord.” Jesus comes and takes the bread and gives to them, and the fish likewise. This third time now Jesus was revealed to his disciples after being raised from the dead.
Then, when they had had breakfast, Jesus says to Simon Peter, “Simon of John, do you love me more than these?” He says to him, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.” He says to him, “Tend my lambs.” He says to him again a second time, “Simon of John, do you love me?” He says to him, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.” He says to him, “Shepherd my sheep.” He says to him the third time, “Simon of John, do you love me?” Peter was grieved because he said to him the third time, “Do you love me?” and he says to him, “Lord, you know all things; you know that I love you.” Jesus says to him, “Tend my sheep. Amen, amen, I say to you, when you were young, you used to gird yourself and walk wherever you chose, but when you are old, you will stretch out your hands, and another will gird you and bring you where you do not choose.” This he said signifying by what death he will glorify God, and having said this, he says to him, “Follow me.”
Turning, Peter sees the disciple whom Jesus loved following, he who also leaned on his breast at the supper and said, “Lord, who is the one handing you over?” Then, seeing this man, Peter says to Jesus, “Lord, what about this man?” Jesus says to him, “If I want him to remain until I come, what [is that] to you? You, follow me!” So this word went out to the brothers that that disciple would not die, but Jesus did not say to him that he would not die, but “If I want him to remain until I come, what [is that] to you?” This is the disciple who testifies about these things and who wrote these things, and we know that his testimony is true. There are also many other things that Jesus did which, if they were written every one, I suppose the world itself would not hold the books being written.
This chapter confirms that there were indeed “many, and other, signs” that Jesus did after his resurrection, signs that the reader should not expect to find “written in this book” (20:30). But one at least is now added. As the story line continues, Jesus is abruptly “at the lake of Tiberias” in Galilee (as in 6:1). Nothing is said of how he got there, only that he “revealed himself” there, and specifically “to the disciples” (vv. 1, 14), just as his previous appearances were “in the presence of his disciples” (20:30). If locked doors are no barrier to the risen Lord (20:19, 26), neither is distance. To a considerable degree, the chapter tells Simon Peter’s story. His is the first name mentioned (v. 2); he takes the initiative to go fishing on the lake (v. 3); and he it is who hears the words, “It is the Lord” (v. 7), and drags the net full of fish onto the shore (v. 11). After the meal, Jesus questions him three times, appoints him shepherd over the flock (vv. 15–17), prophesies his death, and commands him, “Follow me” (vv. 18–19). When Peter sees “the disciple whom Jesus loved” already following and asks about him, Jesus ignores the question and repeats the command to “follow me” (vv. 20–22).
While the brief concluding notices about “the disciple whom Jesus loved” have an obvious bearing on that disciple’s identity and on the authorship of the Gospel (see vv. 23–25), they do not change the fact that this final chapter is mainly about Simon Peter. There are unmistakable echoes here of Jesus’ promise to the disciples in the Gospel of Mark that “after I am raised, I will go before you into Galilee” (Mk 14:28), followed by the prediction of Peter’s threefold denial (14:29–30), and eventually confirmed by the young man’s command to the women at the tomb to “go and tell my disciples, and Peter, that ‘he goes before you into Galilee. There you will see him, just as he told you’ ” (Mk 16:7, italics added). Mark’s Gospel* leads us to expect just such an appearance of Jesus in Galilee as we find here in the Gospel of John.* It is as if Mary Magdalene had delivered to the male disciples the message given her in Mark and Matthew along with the message given her in John’s Gospel itself (see 20:17).
Other elements in the chapter as well point to a knowledge of traditions outside the Gospel of John as well as traditions within it. The reader recalls that Jesus has been at “the lake of Galilee, or Tiberias” before (6:1), that he performed a miracle there involving bread—and, secondarily, fish (see 6:5–11)—and that he revealed himself to his disciples (although the word “revealed” was not used) as they sat in a boat (see 6:16–21).* Here he “revealed himself”* (v. 1) by performing a miracle involving fish (v. 11)—and, secondarily, bread (vv. 9, 13). If we did not know better, we might have assumed that 6:1–21 was the postresurrection account and 21:1–14 a record of something within Jesus’ earthly ministry. Just such an event, in fact, does occur within the earthly ministry, according to Luke (5:1–11), and there too Simon Peter is the central figure. We have here a kind of reenactment of the call of the disciples, not as told in John’s Gospel but as told in the other three, Luke in particular. Nothing in this Gospel so far has connected any of the disciples with fishing, yet here we find them fishing in Galilee, just as when they first met Jesus in those other accounts. Here they meet him again under similar circumstances, even though nothing is the same. The narrative is realistic—they are literally fishing—but also metaphorical, for in doing what many of them have always done, the disciples now dramatize what they have been “sent” to do, that is, “fish for people” (see Mk 1:17//Mt 4:19//Lk 5:11), or, as this Gospel puts it, forgive or retain sins (see 20:22–23).
If the fishing incident dramatizes the disciples’ evangelistic mission, the breakfast by the lake after the extraordinary catch (vv. 12–13) dramatizes Christian worship, centering on common meals, possibly (as in 6:11) the Eucharist in particular. And in much the same way, Jesus’ subsequent encounter with Simon Peter one-on-one (vv. 15–19) evokes the need for pastoral ministry among them by reintroducing the familiar image of the shepherd and the sheep. In this exchange, Peter is reinstated—rehabilitated, if you will—and appointed shepherd of the flock in Jesus’ absence. In keeping with a text quoted in two other Gospels (Mk 14:27//Mt 26:31)—“I will strike the shepherd, and the sheep will be scattered” (Zech 13:7)—this shepherd too will die (vv. 18–19), and yet the reader knows it will not matter. Whatever happens, the promise stands: the sheep will be kept safe until Jesus comes again (see 10:28–29; 17:12; 18:8). Peter wonders about the fate of “the disciple whom Jesus loved,” but that too, Jesus reminds him, is irrelevant. All that matters is that Peter—and all the disciples—“follow” him, as they have been called to do (vv. 20–23).
2 The story of how Jesus “revealed himself” is now told: “And he revealed like this:* there were together Simon Peter, and Thomas, the one called Didymos, and Nathanael, the one from Cana of Galilee, and the sons of Zebedee, and two others of the disciples” (vv. 1b–2). These disciples are “together”* at the lake just mentioned. In contrast to 20:19–29, they are not the Twelve, nor the Eleven, nor even the Ten. Three are named, two others identified as “sons of Zebedee,” and two others mentioned without being named—a total of seven, or so it would seem. Simon Peter is mentioned first, and will speak first (v. 3). Thomas, who has just been heard from (20:28), is still in the picture, but Nathanael, who has not been heard from since chapter 1, is a bit of a surprise. We now learn belatedly that he is from Cana, the place to which Jesus was on his way when he found Nathanael (see 1:43) and to which he seems to have accompanied Jesus (2:2). “The sons of Zebedee,” named in the other Gospels as James and John, are mentioned here for the first (and only) time in this Gospel. Simon Peter’s brother Andrew and his companion Philip (seen together in 6:7–9 and 12:21–22) are conspicuous by their absence, unless they are the two who are unnamed. It is unclear why they would not be named if they were present.
Somewhere in the picture is “the disciple whom Jesus loved” (see v. 7), but the presence of two unnamed disciples makes it impossible to identify him. It is normally assumed that he is one of the two unnamed disciples, but if he is indeed the one writing the account (see v. 24), he has quite possibly left himself out of the stage setting because the scene is viewed through his eyes.* This seems to have been the case in 13:28, where he stated that “none of those reclining” understood why Jesus told Judas to do quickly what he was going to do—obviously he himself understood—and in 19:25, where he listed four who were present at Jesus’ crucifixion, but conspicuously excluded himself (only to appear abruptly in the next two verses).* If it is the case here, then the number of disciples on the scene is eight, not seven, and he is distinguishing himself not only from Simon Peter, Thomas, and Nathanael, but from “the sons of Zebedee” as well—thus eliminating the traditional identification of this disciple as John, son of Zebedee. Such a possibility is intriguing, and must be taken into account in any effort to identify this disciple. In any event, we have at least seven disciples “together” here at the lake Tiberias. The “disciple whom Jesus loved,” whoever he may be, is still hidden. He will “reveal himself” only in the act of revealing Jesus (“It is the Lord,” v. 7).
3 The story begins as a fishing trip: “Simon Peter says to them, ‘I’m going fishing.’ They say to him, ‘We too are coming with you.’ They went out and got into the boat,* and in that night they caught nothing” (v. 3). Moralistic observations to the effect that the disciples are somehow disobedient because they have returned (some of them at least) to their former occupation instead of fulfilling their mission of forgiving and retaining sin (20:23) are beside the point. It is of course possible to read this as the first of Jesus’ appearances, with the disciples going back to fishing because they know nothing of any resurrection.* This could be the case in a source that the Gospel writer might have been using, but in the Gospel as it stands it is ruled out by the simple adverb “again” (v. 1), and by the concluding notice insisting that it is not the first but actually the “third” of Jesus’ appearances “after being raised from the dead” (v. 14).*
In fact, nothing is said of Peter’s motivation. The accent is not on why he and the other disciples went fishing, but simply on the fact that they did so, and in particular on the concluding statement that “in that night they caught nothing”*—dramatizing Jesus’ caution to them six chapters earlier that “apart from me you cannot do anything” (15:5). The phrase “in that night”* is the first indication of time, and for those familiar with other Gospel traditions it cannot help but evoke Simon Peter’s protest one morning early in the ministry when Jesus urged him to put out from shore and lower his nets: “Master, we have labored all night and have taken nothing” (Lk 5:5). If there is no catch at night, when fishing is at its best, how can there be a great catch in the morning? Symbolic echoes of 9:4 (“We must work the works of the One who sent me as long as it is day. Night is coming when no one can work”) are possible here, but not likely. The symbolism would be rather too subtle, because day follows night here (as in Rom 13:12–13) rather than night following day.
4 In any event, Jesus comes in the morning, just as Mary came to the tomb in the morning (20:1): “But as soon as early morning* had come,* Jesus stood on the shore, yet the disciples did not know that it was Jesus”* (v. 4). The echoes of chapter 20 are striking, suggesting continuity and common authorship. First, Jesus “stood* on the shore,” just as he “stood in the midst” (twice) in the presence of the disciples behind locked doors in the preceding chapter (20:19, 26).* Second, the echo of Mary Magdalene in the garden is even more conspicuous, for she too “did not know that it was Jesus”* (20:14). Once again, the stage is set for his self-revelation.
5–6 Jesus appears first as a stranger, in much the same way he appeared to Mary as the gardener (20:15), or in Luke to the two disciples on the way to Emmaus (Lk 24:15–16): “Then Jesus says to them, ‘Lads,* do you have any catch?’* They answered him, ‘No,’ and he said to them, ‘Throw the net to the right side of the boat, and you will find.’ So they threw, and they were no longer strong enough to draw it in because of the great number of fish” (vv. 5–6). With these few words, the core of the story is told, and a good share of what follows (vv. 7, 8, 11) simply accents the enormous size of their catch and the difficulty of getting it to shore. Jesus in the guise of the inquisitive stranger does not ask the question because he is hungry—he already has a hearty meal on the fire (v. 9)—but to elicit from the disciples a negative answer.* Their answer is a simple “No,” appropriate to a stranger, nothing like “Master, we have labored all night and have taken nothing” (Lk 5:5).
Jesus’ rejoinder, however, “Throw the net to the right side of the boat, and you will find”* begins to reveal who he is, for it evokes Jesus’ speech as handed down in other Gospel traditions; for example, “Ask, and it will be given you; seek, and you will find;* knock, and it will be opened to you” (Mt 7:7//Lk 11:9).* Within John’s Gospel itself, it evokes (if negatively) Jesus’ words to the Pharisees at the Tent festival, “You will seek me, and you will not find” (7:34; see also 13:33). The difference here, because it is a fishing scene, is “throw,* … and you will find” instead of “seek, and you will find.” Just such language occurs in Matthew, where Jesus tells Peter, “Go to the lake; throw a hook, and take the first fish that comes up, and open its mouth, and you will find a coin” (Mt 17:27), and in the Gospel of Thomas:
The Man is like a wise fisherman who threw his net into the sea; he drew it up from the sea full of small fish; among them he found a large good fish. That wise fisherman, he threw all the small fish down into the sea, and chose the large fish without regret. (Thomas 8, italics added)*
Whether it is the familiarity of Jesus’ language or simply the magnitude of the ensuing catch that triggers the moment of recognition (v. 7) is unclear. In any event, Jesus told them to throw their net “to the right side,” and they did so, solely on the word of a stranger. The “right” side (whether in Greek or in English) implies the proper, or favorable, side,* but the point of the command is simply to urge the disciples to move the net from its present position.* The result is immediate and startling, as “they were no longer strong enough to draw it in because of the great number* of fish.” The next few verses will document their struggles in getting “the great number of fish” to shore.
7 At this point the beloved disciple abruptly reveals himself to the reader, even as he reveals Jesus to the other disciples: “Then that disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, ‘It is the Lord.’* Then Simon Peter, hearing that ‘It is the Lord,’ secured the outer garment (for he was naked), and threw himself into the lake” (v. 7).* “It is the Lord” is only the second (and last) pronouncement of this disciple in the entire Gospel of John, and it is eerily, yet superficially, similar to the first, at the table when Jesus predicted that one of them would hand him over: “Lord, who is it?”* (13:25). He has said nothing since then, either to identify Judas to the other disciples as the betrayer (see 13:28–29), or to share with Peter or Mary Magdalene exactly what he “believed” when he looked into the empty tomb (20:8). And when Jesus gave his mother into the disciple’s care, he “took her to his own home” without a word (19:27). Now at last he breaks his silence. He is the first to recognize Jesus, and at last he shares that recognition. His testimony to Peter, “It is the Lord,” echoes both the words of Mary to the disciples (“I have seen the Lord,” 20:18) and their words to the absent Thomas (“We have seen the Lord,” 20:25). Presumably all the other disciples heard it (see v. 12), but Simon Peter is the first to act. The next sentence could be legitimately translated as indirect discourse (“Then Simon Peter, hearing that it was the Lord …”), but it is worthwhile noticing the repetition of the exact words, “It is the Lord,” and the translation has shown this by preserving direct discourse. What Peter hears is exactly what “that disciple whom Jesus loved” has said, and before it is over, those very words will reecho yet a third time in the minds of all the disciples (v. 12).
On hearing the testimony, Simon Peter immediately “secured the outer garment (for he was naked), and threw himself into the lake” (v. 7b). It is important to recognize that he does this not in order to bring the catch ashore, but to get to shore first to greet “the Lord.”* The other disciples will drag the loaded net to shore in the boat (v. 8), and Peter will come back and help them finish the job (v. 11). It is odd that he is described as “naked,” and at the same time clothed in “the outer garment.” While the word we have translated “secured”* can also mean “put on,”* it hardly makes sense that if Peter was naked to begin with, he would then clothe himself in order to jump into the water! More likely, the verb means to “tie around” or “secure” a garment one is already wearing.* The garment in question* was normally worn loosely over another garment,* but in this instance, we are being told, it was the only garment Peter was wearing. He was “naked” underneath it. Consequently, instead of taking it off he merely tied or “secured” it so as have freedom in the water, yet without coming ashore to meet “the Lord” naked. Perhaps in this avoidance of shame there is an impulse akin to the actual shame Peter expresses in the preresurrection narrative in Luke, “Get away from me, for I am a sinful man, Lord!” (Lk 5:8).
8 Only Simon Peter left the boat. His companions heard the same words he did, “It is the Lord” (v. 7a), but they had the responsibility of getting the enormous catch to shore: “and the other disciples came in the boat* (for they were not far from the land, about two hundred cubits),* dragging the net of fish” (v. 8). Instead of trying to take on board a catch that would have sunk the boat, they haul it with difficulty toward shore. Hoskyns assumes (without discussion) that they reached shore before Peter did,* but that is most unlikely. He is presumably ashore already, greeting the Lord, but the “pair of human eyes” of which Reynolds Price speaks, “hovering just at the edge of each event, or caught in its center”* (that is, the eyes of the “disciple whom Jesus loved”) are not looking in Peter’s direction. For the moment, they are focused rather on “the other disciples” and their experience, at least until Peter comes back to help them (v. 11).
9 Next we are told what the disciples saw on disembarking: “Then when they got out onto the land, they see a charcoal fire laid, and a fish laid on, and bread” (v. 9). Presumably they saw Jesus and Simon Peter as well, but the accent here is on something unexpected—both to them and to the reader: a fire already lighted and a meal already prepared. The “charcoal fire”* recalls the “charcoal fire” at which Peter warmed himself when he denied the Lord (18:18, 25), thus preparing the reader (though not necessarily the disciples) for Peter’s reinstatement (vv. 15–17). The fire is not for warmth this time, but for cooking. “Fish” has been laid on it, “fish” as food,* not “fish” as a sea creature.* “Fish,” like “bread,” both without the article) is probably generic—that is, not “a fish” and “a loaf of bread,” as if there were just one of each, but an unspecified amount of food.* The accent is not on the amount of food, but on its careful preparation; the fire has been “laid,”* and fish carefully “laid on.” Who has prepared it? Who else but “the Lord” (v. 7)?
10 The Lord speaks again: “Jesus says to them, ‘Bring some of the fish you caught just now’ ” (v. 10). The expression, “Bring some of the fish,” is a partitive expression, literally, “bring from the fish.”* Here again (as in v. 9), “fish” is fish to be eaten, not fish swimming in the lake (vv. 8 and 11). Is Jesus then asking for more fish to be added to those already roasting on the fire? That might seem to be the case, yet no hint is given that any of the fish in the net were ever actually cleaned and eaten. Moreover, if, as we have suggested, there is a symbolic dimension to this narrative in which fishing somehow represents the disciples’ assigned task of “fishing” for human beings, the thought of eating even a part of their enormous catch is incongruous, stretching the metaphor to the breaking point. But if not this, what is Jesus asking?
His odd terminology—“bring from the fish” (see n.
11 Peter, ashore before the others, takes the initiative to respond to Jesus’ words: “So Simon Peter went up and drew the net onto the land, full of 153 great fish, and even with so many the net was not torn” (v. 11). “Went up”* could mean that he got back into the boat, but more likely he came up to the boat in order to bring the loaded net, still lying in shallow water, onto the land. “Drew” is the same word used of the Father “drawing” people to Jesus (6:44), or Jesus “drawing” them to himself (12:32), and some have theorized that it is chosen here for that reason, in keeping with the symbolic import of “fishing” for human beings.* But this is unlikely because the writer uses the verb almost interchangeably with another verb for “drawing” or “dragging” (thyrontes; v. 8), a word with no such associations.
Once the net is on land, we learn that it is “full of 153 great fish,” a number which ordinary readers take at face value—the disciples must have counted their catch!*—yet one which continues to baffle and fascinate scholars. The number is remarkable both because it is very large (in keeping with similar extravagances in 2:6, 6:13, 12:3, and 19:39), and because it is so specific without being a round number (like one hundred) or an obviously symbolic one (like twelve). It is not an approximation (“about five thousand,” 6:10; “about a hundred pounds,” 19:39), nor an estimate (“each holding two or three measures,” 2:6), but an exact figure, like the “thirty-eight years” the man at the pool had been sick (5:5). It is quite possible that the figure of 153 (with or without symbolic significance) was part and parcel of the story from the time it began to be told orally, just as the “thirty-eight years” seems to have been part and parcel of the story of the man at the pool. It hints unmistakably at the presence of an eyewitness, something the text already claims for itself (see v. 7, where “that disciple whom Jesus loved” has already made his appearance).
Needless to say, such simple explanations have not satisfied commentators. It is pointless to reinvent the wheel by cataloguing all the valiant efforts to extract symbolic meaning from this number.* Already in the fourth century, Augustine recognized it as a triangular number, the sum of every integer from one through seventeen—“triangular” because if one dot is printed and above that two dots and above that three, and so on up to seventeen, the result is a triangle made up of dots. Triangular numbers, like squares and square roots, were of great interest to the ancients. In that sense, 153 reduces to 17 (just as 144, for example, reduces to 12, its square root), and from there one can draw any number of conclusions. Augustine, for example, saw 17 as the sum of 10 and 7, and opined, “Accordingly, when to the number of ten, representing the law, we add the Holy Spirit as represented by seven, we have seventeen; and when this number is used for the adding together of every several number it contains, from 1 up to itself, the sum amounts to one hundred and fifty-three.”* Somewhat more promising is the statement of Jerome (in his commentary on Ezekiel), that certain Greek zoologists (Oppian of Cilicia in particular) listed 153 varieties of fish known to exist.* Superficially, this might correspond to the parable of the net in Matthew, in which the net gathered fish “of every kind” (Mt 13:47), except that in the parable the phrase seems to mean not every species of fish, but simply the good and the bad (13:48). Moreover, Jerome’s testimony cannot be verified from any of the Greek zoologists,* and even if it could, it is something of a reach to suppose that the writer of John’s Gospel would have known about them. Quite possibly Jerome is reading into them what he thinks he has already discovered in the Gospel of John! It is unlikely, therefore, that 153 signals the ethnic diversity of the people of God (as, for example, in the vision of “a great multitude which no one can number, out of every nation and tribe and people and tongue,” Rev 7:9).
As far as the symbolism is concerned, we are back where we started. While the writer (or his source) may well have known that 153 was a triangular number, the point may be simply that it is a very large number of fish to be caught at one time in a net, and that it is not a mere approximation—that is, every single one counts, as if counted one by one (compare Mt 10:29–31//Lk 12:6–7). In any case (in contrast to the parable of the net in Matthew), there is no need to separate good from bad among the fish that are caught in the net. The catch consists of 153 “great fish,”* “great” implying not only “large” but “good” (as perhaps in Gospel of Thomas 8). None will be “thrown out” (Mt 13:48),* nor will any be lost, for “even with so many* the net was not torn.” Here is where the emphasis lies, not on the characteristics of the number 153. In striking contrast to the fishing scene in Luke, where “their nets were breaking” (Lk 5:6), the net is unbroken despite the enormous weight. The point is much the same as when Jesus, after the feeding of the multitude, told the disciples to “Gather the leftover broken pieces, so that nothing is lost,” and “they gathered, and filled up twelve baskets with pieces left over” (6:12–13).* Here the conservation of fish, like the conservation of fragments there, hints at Jesus’ repeated promise that he will keep his disciples safe, and that none of those whom the Father has given him will ever be lost (see 3:16; also 6:39; 10:28; 17:12; 18:9). And what is true of them is true as well of “those who believe … through their word” (17:20). As “fishers” in the world, they will “go and bear fruit,” and their fruit will last (15:16).
12 The meal is ready: “Jesus says to them, ‘Come, have breakfast,’ ”* and instead of giving the disciples’ response, the Gospel writer offers a rare glimpse of what was going on in their minds—not what they said but what they did not say: “And none of the disciples dared inquire of him, ‘Who are you?’—knowing that ‘It is the Lord’ ” (v. 12). Like Mary Magdalene (20:14), they had not recognized him at first (see v. 4), but unlike Mary, who as soon as she recognized him said, “ ‘Rabbouni’ (which means ‘Teacher!’),” they hesitate. They have heard from the disciple whom Jesus loved that “It is the Lord!” (v. 7a), and the words echoed in Peter’s ears as he threw himself into the lake (v. 7b). Now we hear the same words yet again. Again, strictly speaking, the last clause should be translated as indirect discourse—“knowing that it was the Lord”—but again I have rendered it as direct discourse to emphasize that we are now hearing the same recognition formula for yet a third time. “It is the Lord”* has echoed verbatim from the disciple whom Jesus loved, to Simon Peter, and now finally to the rest of the disciples.
Why then the hesitation? Why the unwillingness to speak to “the Lord” directly? Why not Mary’s “Rabbouni,” or “Teacher!” (as in 20:16)? Why not Thomas’s “My Lord and my God!” (as in 20:28)? Nothing of the kind is even contemplated. Perhaps it would be anticlimactic after 20:28! Their confession, “It is the Lord,” remains unspoken. What is contemplated instead is a question, “Who are you?” as if addressing the supposed stranger who asked them, “Lads, do you have any catch?” (v. 5). But to ask it now, after hearing that “It is the Lord” (v. 7), would be to ask for verification,* something Thomas had already embarrassed himself by demanding, and something Jesus had given twice before without being asked (20:20, 27). Therefore “none of the disciples dared inquire of him,” and they remain silent, recalling their silence during Jesus’ farewell discourse when they questioned what he was saying but were unwilling to ask him (see 16:5, 16–19). Here, however, their embarrassed silence fulfills Jesus’ promise that “in that day you will ask me nothing” (16:23). Now that he has “revealed himself” (v. 1), no questions are asked because no further verification is needed.*
13 Jesus has just said, “Come, have breakfast” (v. 12), yet it is he who makes the first move: “Jesus comes and takes the bread and gives to them, and the fish likewise” (v. 13). He “comes,” just as he “came” to the disciples twice before (20:19, 26). What he does next confirms the connection between the present scene and the feeding of the five thousand, in particular the connection between the 153 fish in the unbroken net and the twelve baskets of leftover fragments with nothing lost. Reenacting the earlier scene in which he
“took the loaves, and when he had given thanks he gave them out to those who were seated, and of the fish, as much as they wanted” (6:11),
Jesus now
“takes the bread and gives to them, and the fish likewise.”*
Even though the story has to do with fish and not bread, the bread comes first, just as at the earlier meal, and then the fish “likewise.”* The narrative is simplified in comparison to the earlier one, notably by the omission of any reference to the giving of thanks.* The omission is probably not of great significance. The reader is evidently expected to fill in the gaps by assuming that Jesus either “blessed” or “gave thanks” for the meal, in keeping with all other such Gospel accounts.* Yet given the absence of wine, there is no need to view the scene as “Eucharistic” in any proper sense of the word, despite the liturgical-sounding language—less so even than at the feeding of the five thousand, where the imagery of drinking (and drinking blood in particular) is at least introduced in the appended discourse (see 6:35, 53–56). More likely, the narrative intends to evoke simply the fellowship meals that Jesus shared with his disciples (see 12:2; 13:1–5), with Jesus as host and the disciples his guests.
14 Did Jesus himself eat any of the bread or fish? We are not told. Instead, the writer summarizes and concludes the incident: “This third time now Jesus was revealed to his disciples after being raised from the dead” (v. 14). The notice recalls many other such summary notices in the Gospel beginning with “this” or “these”: for example, “This Jesus did … as a beginning of the signs” (2:11); “And this Jesus did again as a second sign” (4:54); “These things he said teaching in synagogue” (6:59); “These words he spoke in the treasury, teaching in the temple” (8:20). The question here is “third”* in relation to what? If this was the “third” time Jesus revealed himself, what were the first two?* Clearly, chapter 20 is presupposed, just as it was in verse 1 (“After these things, Jesus revealed himself again to the disciples”). But how much of chapter 20 is presupposed, only the two-stage appearance to the male disciples in a locked room (20:19–31), or the appearance to Mary in the garden as well (20:11–18)? Most commentators assume the former without even bothering to raise the issue. The repetition of “again” (
Yet it is not quite an open-and-shut case. As we have seen, there is a sense in which the two appearances a week apart in 20:19–23 and 26–29 respectively are actually one, with a certain solidarity between Thomas and the other disciples. If the two incidents are counted as one, then the appearance in the garden to Mary Magdalene is the first “revelation” of the risen Lord, the appearance to the male disciples in the locked room the second, and the appearance at the lake of Tiberias the third. Mary testifies, “I have seen the Lord” (20:18), the disciples echo her words, “We have seen the Lord” (20:25), and “the disciple whom Jesus loved” testifies, “It is the Lord” (21:7)—a cry that echoes not once but three times through the narrative (vv. 7a, 7b, 12). Moreover, the group designated as “the disciples” in chapter 21 is not exactly the same group so designated (with or without Thomas) in chapter 20. They are only seven in number, or at most eight,* and it is by no means certain that the two anonymous disciples (v. 2) were even present in the preceding chapter. The possibility, therefore, that the first “revelation” to which verse 14 refers was to just one “disciple”—and a woman at that!—cannot be summarily dismissed.* Whatever resurrection appearances may be in view, the accent on the “third time” is noteworthy—as though the sheer repetition attests the reality of the events.
15 At this point, all of the disciples except Simon Peter (and later, “the disciple whom Jesus loved,” vv. 20–24) disappear from the story and are not heard from again. It is as if Jesus and Peter are alone: “Then, when they had had breakfast, Jesus says to Simon Peter, ‘Simon of John, do you love me more than these?’ He says to him, ‘Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.’ He says to him, ‘Tend my lambs’ ” (v. 15). The address, “Simon of John,” takes us back to Jesus’ first encounter with this disciple when he looked at him and said, “You are Simon, the son of John,” and predicted that his name would be “Cephas,” or Peter (1:42). It is no clearer here than it was there whether Jesus is alluding to Simon’s father in order to distinguish him from some other Simon, or whether he is simply reminding him that he was John’s disciple before he met Jesus.
The question “Do you love me?”* revisits the farewell discourse, when Jesus said to all the disciples, “If you love me, you will keep my commands” (14:15; see also vv. 21, 23). When Peter says “Yes,” Jesus will give him a command. And yet the question has in it a possible trap, for it is not just “Do you love me?” but “Do you love me more than these?” (italics added). Jesus is quite capable of “testing” his disciples (as he did Philip; see 6:6), and here he seems to be doing just that. Grammatically, “more than these”* could mean “more than you love these other disciples,” but this makes no sense because he has repeatedly urged them to “love one another” (13:34–35; 15:12, 17). Or it could mean “more than you love your boat and your nets, the instruments of your livelihood” (see Mk 1:18//Mt 4:20, “and immediately leaving the nets they followed him”), but no such “love” for material things has played any part in the story. The meaning we are left with—the only possible meaning—is “more than these other disciples—who are present right here on the scene—love me.” Here, as elsewhere in the chapter (and occasionally in the Gospel as a whole), Jesus builds on an incident or pronouncement found in other Gospels—in this case Peter’s confident claim, in the face of Jesus’ prediction that the disciples would abandon him, “Even if they all are offended, yet not I” (Mk 14:29; also Mt 26:33). John’s Gospel has nothing quite so explicit, although Peter did say, “I will lay down my life for you!” (13:37), a rash promise that no other disciple was willing to make.
Peter does not fall into the trap. He could have said, “Yes, I do love you more than these”—sticking to all his rash promises. Or he could have said, “No, I do not love you more than these,” which would have been technically true, but would have given the impression that he did not love Jesus at all. Instead, he says simply, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you,” wisely forswearing any comparison between his love for Jesus and anyone else’s. If it is a test, he has passed, at least to this point. Much has been written as to whether his use of a different word for love* in any way limits or qualifies his answer.* But the two words, whatever their different nuances,* are used interchangeably in this Gospel for the Father’s love for the Son (for example, 3:35; 5:20), the disciples’ love for Jesus (see 14:15; 16:27), Jesus’ love for Lazarus (see 11:3, 5), and Jesus’ love for “the disciple whom he loved” (see 13:23; 20:2). Other synonyms or near synonyms, moreover, are used interchangeably both in the immediate context—“lambs” (v. 15) and “sheep” (vv. 16, 17), “tend” (vv. 15, 17), and “shepherd” (v. 16)—and in the wider context: “drawing” (vv. 6, 11) and “dragging” (v. 8), live “fish” (vv. 6, 8, 11) and “fish” as food (vv. 9, 13; also v. 5), “boat” (vv. 3, 6) and little “boat” (v. 8). The accent in Peter’s reply, therefore, is not on the choice of verbs but on the omission of the phrase “more than these.” Whatever he may have said before, Peter will now make no such claim. And in the same breath he acknowledges that Jesus knows what is in his heart: “Yes, Lord, you know* that I love you.” From the beginning, the Gospel writer has assured us that Jesus “knew them all” (2:24), or “knew what was in the person” (2:25), so for Peter there can be no dissimulation or deception.
Taking Peter at his word, Jesus gives the command, “Tend my lambs.” As Good Shepherd (10:11, 14), he commissions Peter to act as shepherd in his absence, in view of his imminent departure. Neither the verb “tend” nor the noun “lambs” have been used up to now in John’s Gospel,* but it is clear that the same “flock” is in view as in chapter 10, for the “lambs” are Jesus’ “lambs.”* He, and not Peter, is still the “one Shepherd,” acting on the Father’s behalf (10:16). Peter’s voice in a New Testament letter attributed to him bears this out: “And when the Chief Shepherd is revealed, you will receive the unfading crown of glory” (1 Pet 5:4). Peter will act as shepherd in Jesus’ place, yet the “lambs” belong not to him but to Jesus. Peter does not immediately accept the commission, and instead of waiting for an answer Jesus questions him again.
16 The question is virtually the same: “He says to him again a second time, ‘Simon of John, do you love me?’ He says to him, ‘Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.’ He says to him, ‘Shepherd my sheep’ ” (v. 16). The phrase “again a second time”* is as redundant as it sounds in English, suggesting that the repetition is unexpected, at least to Peter. The only difference in the question is that Jesus, taking his cue from Peter, has dropped the phrase “more than these.” Without reference to anyone else’s love, he is asking simply, “Do you love me [as you say you do]?” The answer is exactly the same as before, and the commission too is the same, but in different words, “Shepherd my sheep,”* words more familiar to the reader than “Tend my lambs” (v. 15).* That “shepherding”* became a dominant metaphor for pastoral care is evident already within the New Testament (see Acts 20:28; 1 Pet 5:2), but in John’s Gospel the “sheep” are Jesus’ disciples. Peter’s commission, therefore, is not simply to be a pastor to new converts but in some way a pastor right away to his fellow disciples*—this, instead of boasting of a love for Jesus surpassing theirs! Once again, Jesus does not wait for Peter to accept the commission.
17 Taking his cue from Peter once again, Jesus repeats the question, this time using the same word for “love” that Peter himself had used twice: “He says to him the third time,* ‘Simon of John, do you love me?’* Peter was grieved because he said to him the third time, ‘Do you love me?’ and he says to him, ‘Lord, you know all things; you know that I love you.’ Jesus says to him, ‘Tend my sheep’ ” (v. 17). Peter is “grieved”* not because Jesus uses a different word for “love” the third time, but simply because there is a “third time.” The use of “the third time,” not once but twice (especially in the wake of the redundant “again a second time,” v. 16), makes this abundantly clear. Moreover, “the third time” echoes the phrase “This third time” in verse 14. The risen Lord, revealed to his disciples for a “third time,” as if to prove beyond doubt the reality of his resurrection, now questions Peter’s love for yet a “third time” as if to elicit proof beyond doubt of the reality of that love.
What is less clear is whether Peter is “grieved” simply because he feels that Jesus does not believe him, or because he remembers his three denials in the courtyard of the Chief Priest (see 18:17, 25, 27). While the denials are not enumerated as first, second, and third, they are predicted (in all four Gospels) as precisely “three” in number (see 13:38; also Mt 26:34//Mk 14:30//Lk 22:34). There can be little doubt that the three questions, with Peter’s three positive answers, are intended by the Gospel writer as a record of Peter’s reinstatement, signaled in advance to the reader by a “charcoal fire” (v. 9) recalling the setting of those three denials (see 18:18, 25).* Whether the fire prompts Peter himself to remember the denials, as the crowing of the rooster did in the other Gospels (see Mt 26:75//Mk 14:72//Lk 22:61–62), is uncertain. In any event, Peter answers, even more emphatically than before: “Lord, you know all things; you know that I love you.”* Oddly, the absence of “Yes” (
18 If the shepherd’s task is to lay down his life for his sheep, then the corollary of Peter’s commissioning as shepherd is martyrdom. Jesus could have repeated what he said earlier to all the disciples, “Remember the word that I said to you, ‘A slave is not greater than his lord.’ If they persecuted me, they will also persecute you” (15:2). Instead, focusing on Peter and him alone, he continues with the twenty-fifth and last “Amen, amen” pronouncement in the Gospel (the first since 16:23):* “Amen, amen, I say to you, when you were young, you used to gird yourself* and walk wherever you chose, but when you get old, you will stretch out your hands and another will gird you* and bring you where you do not choose” (v. 18). The description of a youthful Peter, girding himself and going where he chooses, fits the present scene in which, a few moments before, he impulsively “secured [literally, “girded up”] the outer garment … and threw himself into the lake” to meet Jesus (v. 7) and then labored mightily to bring the net ashore (v. 11), as well as another vivid scene much later in the book of Acts, when an angel appeared to him in prison and told him, “Gird yourself and put on your sandals,” and he did so, after which the angel said, “Wrap your garment around you and follow me” (Acts 12:8). Here Jesus reminds him that it will not always be so.
As to form, the pronouncement appears to be based on a proverb contrasting youth and old age. When a man is “young,”* he controls his own life, but when he “gets old,”* he is at the mercy of others. The contrast is threefold:
In short, freedom diminishes with advancing age, and it will be no different with Peter. Nothing about violent death or martyrdom is intrinsic to the proverb. Yet if it is only a proverb about aging, one clause is unaccounted for, “you will stretch out your hands.”* This clause has prompted interpreters for centuries to conclude that Jesus is predicting Peter’s eventual crucifixion—upside down according to some traditions.* Already in the second century, Barnabas argued that Moses made a “type of the cross” when he “began stretching out his hands” and Israel gained the victory over the Amalekites (Barnabas 12.2; see Exod 17:11),* as did Isaiah when he said, “All day long I stretched out my hands to a disobedient people” (12.4; see Isa 65:2).* In similar fashion, Justin Martyr referred to Moses’ gesture as “the sign of the cross” (Dialogue with Trypho 90.5), and interpreted Isaiah’s words as a prophecy of the crucifixion of Christ, who “stretched forth his hands, being crucified by the Jews” (Apology 1.35.6). Yet neither Moses nor Isaiah was literally crucified, and there is no reason to suppose that Jesus is predicting literal crucifixion in Peter’s case either. If he were, we would have expected a different word order: “when you get old, another will gird you and bring you where you do not choose, and you will stretch out your hands.” More likely, the stretching out of the hands is simply a gesture of helplessness preliminary to arrest and execution—not Peter’s death on a cross, but at most (in Justin’s words) a “sign of the cross.”
In short, Jesus seems to be predicting Peter’s martyrdom (see v. 19, “by what death”), but not necessarily his crucifixion.* The verbs “crucify” and “lift up” (3:14; 8:28; 12:32) are conspicuous by their absence. Yet the ancient tradition in which Peter is crucified upside down does capture an important point in the Gospel’s narrative, for the accent is on the contrast between Peter’s death and that of Jesus, not on the similarities. Jesus has said, “I lay down my life, that I might receive it back again. No one took it away from me, but I lay it down on my own. I have authority to lay it down, and I have authority to receive it back” (10:17–18), and on the cross he “handed over the Spirit” in his own time and on his own initiative. Peter’s death, by contrast, will not be “on his own,” but at the will and command of others, like the death of any other martyr. Peter has rashly adopted Jesus’ own language, “I will lay down my life for you!” (13:37), but the reality will be quite different.
19 At this point the writer adds a narrative aside, “This he said signifying by what death* he will glorify God,” a comment corresponding almost exactly to 12:33, “This he said signifying by what death* he was going to die”—the latter in reference to Jesus’ repeated claim that he would be “lifted up” on the cross (3:14; 12:23; see also 18:32). Having “signified” or made known the nature of his own death, Jesus now “signifies” to Peter the nature of his death, and the two are not the same. Jesus was “lifted up” and Peter will not be; Jesus gave his life at his own initiative and Peter will not.* Nevertheless, Peter’s death will “glorify God,”* a phrase evoking Jesus’ language about his own death (see 12:28; 13:31; 17:1). Martyrdom does not have to be sought, or self-initiated; Jesus seems in fact to have taught the contrary (see Mt 10:23, “When they pursue you in this city, flee to the other”).
After the narrative aside, the writer adds one more command of Jesus in addition to “Tend my lambs” (v. 15), “Shepherd my sheep” (v. 16), and “Tend my sheep” (v. 17): “and having said this,* he says to him, ‘Follow me’ ”* (v. 19). This command not only echoes his initial command to Peter and Andrew according to Matthew (4:19) and Mark (1:17), but it also expresses exactly what Peter told Jesus he wanted above all else to do (“Why can I not follow you now? I will lay down my life for you!” 13:37). This he will do, but on Jesus’ terms, not his own (see 12:26, “If anyone would serve me, let him follow me, and where I am, there my servant will be”). “Follow me” is of course the imperative for every disciple, but Peter is called to follow Jesus specifically as shepherd of the flock, with all that that entails.
20–21 What happens next is difficult to visualize: “Turning, Peter sees the disciple whom Jesus loved following, he who also leaned on his breast at the supper and said, ‘Lord, who is the one handing you over?’ Then, seeing this man, Peter says to Jesus, ‘Lord, what about this man?’ ” (vv. 20–21). “Turning” implies that Peter had to turn around to see “the disciple whom Jesus loved,” and “following”* seems to imply that Jesus and Peter had already started off, as if on a journey somewhere. Peter is literally “following” Jesus, just as he was told (v. 19), and the beloved disciple is “following” behind, bringing up the rear. At the same time, “turning” may also mark a “turn” in Peter’s state of mind, as in the case of Mary Magdalene in the garden. But unlike Mary’s “turning” (20:16), it is not necessarily a turn for the better.* To begin with, if Peter is literally “following” Jesus, it is not a good thing to “turn” around or look back (see Lk 9:57–62, 17:31–32).* And, more to the point, Peter’s problem from the start has been comparing himself with other disciples—“Do you love me more than these?” (v. 15)—something he now begins doing again.
“The disciple whom Jesus loved” is reintroduced more elaborately than anywhere else in the Gospel (contrast 19:26; 20:2; 21:7), in relation to the scene at the table where he made his first appearance, as “he who also leaned on his breast at the supper and said, ‘Lord, who is the one handing you over?’ ” (v. 20; compare 13:23–25).* This is evidently in anticipation of this disciple’s identification at last as “the disciple who testifies about these things and who wrote these things” (v. 24). It is important that the reader understand just who he is within the narrative, even though his name is never given. Peter obviously knows who he is, for it was in response to Peter’s unspoken request to find out the identity of the betrayer (see 13:24) that the disciple asked Jesus the question repeated here. He and Peter, moreover, ran together to the tomb of Jesus at the behest of Mary Magdalene, looked into the tomb, and returned together to their respective homes (20:3–10). And in the present scene, it was this disciple’s recognition, “It is the Lord” (v. 7), that impelled Peter to swim to shore to meet his Lord (v. 7). Now, however, Peter has nothing to say to him, but instead asks Jesus about him (rather impolitely) in his very presence: “Lord, what about this man?”* What exactly is he asking? If we assume that Peter understood Jesus to be in some way predicting Peter’s death, then he is asking the same question about “the disciple whom Jesus loved.” How will his life end? Will he meet a similar fate? Characteristically, the beloved disciple himself holds his peace.
22 The reader knows that the fate of “the disciple whom Jesus loved” is none of Peter’s business, but Jesus does not content himself with just saying so. Instead, he says to Peter, “If I want him to remain until I come, what [is that] to you? You, follow me!” (v. 22). To “remain” is simply to stay alive as opposed to dying, whether by martyrdom or natural death, yet the word inevitably implies as well remaining faithful or “dwelling” in Jesus as described in the farewell discourses (see 15:1–8). “I want”* has an almost imperious sound to it. Who is this person who presumes to decide how long his disciples will live, or how they will die? It recalls his bold prayer on their behalf, “I want them to be with me where I am” (17:24), except that instead of coming within a prayer (in which he is free to ask the Father “whatever he wants,” as in 15:7), it expresses the sovereign will of one who knows that he has “authority over all flesh” (17:2) because the Father has already given it to him. Jesus is careful not to say that it is in fact his will that the disciple “remain,” only that if this is the case (or if it is not!), the matter is not Peter’s concern. “What [is that] to you?”* counters and gently dismisses Peter’s “What about this man?”
The other noteworthy expression is “until I come.” The “coming” of which he speaks is not the “coming” of 14:18 (“I am coming to you”) or 14:28 (“I am going away, and I am coming to you”), for these seem to have already taken place (see 20:19, 26; 21:13). It is rather the “coming” promised in 14:3, apparently the same future “coming of the Son of man” that is generally presupposed in the synoptic tradition.* In contrast to the farewell discourses, however, and in agreement with the synoptic tradition, there is no mention of “going” (as in 13:33, 36; 14:2–4, 28), only of “coming.” It is as if Jesus has already “gone away,” and the two disciples (like the reader of the Gospel) are already awaiting his future “coming.” The synoptic texts that “until I come”* brings most readily to mind are those that speak of the “coming” of the Son of man as a terminal point or time limit: “You will not complete the cities of Israel until the Son of man has come” (Mt 10:23), and (even more pointedly) “There are some of those standing here who will never taste death until they see the Son of man coming in his kingdom” (Mt 16:28, my italics).* Here too, as we have seen, “remaining” seems to imply staying alive in contrast to dying, whether by martyrdom or otherwise.
Jesus concludes by refusing to allow Peter to change the subject: “You, follow me!” He repeats what he said three verses earlier (v. 19), adding only the emphatic “you” (that is, “not him, you!”), and changing the word order* so as to focus Peter’s attention on the Lord and nowhere else. These are Jesus’ last words in the Gospel of John, recalling that first scene long ago at Bethany when the first two disciples “followed Jesus,” and he asked them, “What are you seeking?” (1:37–38). Only now will Peter learn what it means to “follow,” and with him, perhaps, the reader of the Gospel (see 12:26).
23 A narrative aside is added for clarification: “So this word went out to the brothers that that disciple would not die, but Jesus did not say to him that he would not die, but ‘If I want him to remain until I come, what [is that] to you?’ ” (v. 23). The expression, “this word went out* to the brothers,” is solid evidence that Jesus’ sayings circulated orally well before they were put into writing. The “brothers,” a term first applied to Jesus’ natural brothers (2:12; 7:3–5), and after that to his disciples (20:17–18), now seems to refer (as in 1 John) to the entire Christian community. If certain pronouncements in the Gospels (such as Mt 16:28 and par.)* were taken literally, early Christians would naturally have kept track of the deaths of those who were known to have been disciples of Jesus, and as their numbers dwindled, more and more attention would have focused on the few who were left. And if other, unwritten, pronouncements made such claims about particular individuals (in this case, “the disciple whom Jesus loved”), they would have drawn particular attention to those individuals as they grew older.*
Here someone (apparently the Gospel writer) takes pains to parse Jesus’ pronouncement carefully, to warn against jumping to conclusions: “Jesus did not say to him* that he would not die, but ‘If I want him to remain until I come, what [is that] to you?’ ” (v. 23b).* But who is doing the parsing? We have assumed all along that the narrative asides in the Gospel were the work of the Gospel writer, and we will be told in the very next verse that the Gospel writer is none other than “the disciple whom Jesus loved.” If this is so, then the common assumption that the beloved disciple had died by the time these words were written* is obviously mistaken. Rather, he himself, still very much alive, is attempting to correct an anticipation on the part of some that he will go on living until his Lord returns.* Knowing that his own death, when it comes, might very well call into question the veracity of Jesus’ pronouncement, he explains that the timing of everything—whether Jesus’ coming or his own eventual death—is in Jesus’ hands. It is a matter not of something Jesus said on earth long ago which may or may not turn out to be true, but rather of what the risen Jesus now “wants” (vv. 22, 23).* The present and future are in his hands.*
Alternatively, it is possible that someone else—presumably those who added “we know that his testimony is true” (v. 24b)—also added a comment after the fact to assure readers that even though “the disciple whom Jesus loved” has died, this does not mean that Jesus was mistaken. While certainty is impossible, the burden of proof is on those who assume that someone other than the beloved disciple himself is responsible for this disclaimer. That assumption could of course be right, but the verse that follows seems to be claiming just the opposite.
24 Finally “the disciple whom Jesus loved” is explicitly identified as the Gospel writer: “This is the disciple who testifies about these things* and who wrote these things,* and we know that his testimony is true” (v. 24). “These things” cannot be limited to the immediately preceding scene involving Jesus, Peter, and this disciple, nor to chapter 21 alone.* Rather, the notice pertains to the entire Gospel, the “testimony” on which it rests, its authorship, and consequently its authority. Many have “testified” in the course of the narrative, from John (1:34; 5:33), to Jesus himself and his works (5:31, 36; 8:14, 18), to the Father (5:37; 8:18), to the Jewish Scriptures (5:39), to an unnamed witness of Jesus’ crucifixion (19:35), and finally to the Advocate, or “Spirit of truth,” who will continue the testimony through the lips of Jesus’ disciples after his departure (15:26–27). And yet all of it, we now learn, is somehow also the testimony of this “disciple whom Jesus loved”—as if he has taken the testimonies of all the others and added them to his own.
The notice is remarkable because, as we have seen, this disciple has been anything but forthcoming throughout the narrative. He did not even make an appearance until 13:23, and if he is indeed the author, he has given himself only two lines, one a question, “Lord, who is it?” (13:25) and the other a testimony of sorts, “It is the Lord” (21:7), his only testimony anywhere in the Gospel to anyone except the reader. Otherwise he has been silent throughout. Yet now, belatedly, we learn that he has been “testifying” all along, both to what he has seen with his own eyes and to that which others have seen and passed along to him, beginning (presumably) with the testimony of John (see 1:7–8, 15, 19, 34). Possibly for this reason, he himself has been persistently identified in the tradition as “John,” whether the Apostle John, son of Zebedee, or John “the Presbyter.”
The notice claims not only that “the disciple whom Jesus loved” provided the testimony underlying the Gospel, but also that he “wrote” it. Commentators have found this claim the more difficult one to accept, particularly those who find it hard to believe that any of the Gospels could have come from the pen of an eyewitness. That this Gospel in particular, with its presumed late date, its extraordinarily high christology, and its extensive deviations from earlier Gospel traditions, could be the work of an eyewitness, the closest of all the disciples to Jesus, strains credulity in the eyes of some.* Admittedly, it is possible to understand “wrote” as “caused to be written,” just as Pilate “wrote” a title and “placed” it over the cross—but not with his own hands.* Yet “wrote” can also be used in another, almost trivial sense of a scribe who puts in writing the ideas of someone else, like the scribe who introduces himself at the end of Paul’s letter to the Romans as “I, Tertius, who wrote the epistle” (Rom 16:22). The latter is clearly not the case here, for the Gospel is the disciple’s own “testimony.” The former might be, as long as it is acknowledged that “wrote” must mean something beyond merely “testifies.” Two things are being asserted, not just one. The Gospel of John is claiming to be more than the product of this disciple’s testimony; it is claiming him as its actual author, not necessarily in the sense that he “wrote” it with his own hand (any more than Pilate wrote the title, or Paul the letter to the Romans with their own hands), but in the sense that he composed it and takes full responsibility for its content. The claim might or might not be true, but there can be little doubt as to what the claim is.
The further claim is that the disciple’s testimony—and by implication the written Gospel—is true: “and we know* that his testimony is true” (v. 24b). This is illuminating, for it tells us (rather belatedly) that the Gospel’s author and its narrative voice are not exactly the same.* While it is remotely possible that all of this comes directly from “the disciple whom Jesus loved” himself (with “we know” understood rhetorically as “it is self-evident,” or “it is common knowledge”),* the far likelier supposition is that a voice other than his is speaking. This is presumably the same voice that has consistently referred to him in the third person as “the disciple whom Jesus loved.” This appears to be the same “we” who said, “we looked at his glory—glory as of a father’s One and Only” (1:14), and joined their voice with John’s to add, “of his fullness we have all received, and grace upon grace” (1:16).* It appears to be an inclusive “we” (as in 1:14 and 16), as if inviting the readers to join the narrators in acknowledging the truth of all that has gone before. From time to time there have been hints of a possible transformation of a first-person narrative into the third person,* and the “we” who valued that first-person testimony enough to transform it and make it their own show their hand—if only for a brief moment.
The distinction introduced at the last minute, as it were, between the Gospel writer and the narrator or narrative voice, complicates the literary reading of the Gospel at least to some degree. All along I have been using the term “Gospel writer” (and occasionally “narrator”) as if author and narrator were necessarily the same. Readers of modern literature are accustomed to authors creating for themselves narrative voices—sometimes more than one—to tell their stories for them, but here we have a narrative voice, introduced abruptly at the end, telling us at last who the true author is. So who is the true author? Whose voice are we hearing throughout? This final narrative voice, or the person this voice explicitly identifies as the author of the Gospel? It is not an easy question, nor does it in the end make an enormous difference. Most concretely, perhaps, it raises the question, To whom should we attribute the many “narrative asides” that we have noticed in the course of our reading? Do they represent the “we” of 21:24 providing “helps for the reader” in following and understanding the beloved disciple’s narrative? Or are they his own side comments? Quite possibly some are the one and some the other, but their recurring interest in Judas Iscariot (see 6:64, 71; 12:4; 13:2, 11) suggests that a number of them do in fact go back to the beloved disciple himself, the first to identify Judas as the one who would hand Jesus over (see 13:25–26).*
25 If there was confusion between Gospel writer and narrator in the preceding verse, it is not resolved in this last verse of the Gospel: “There are also many other things* that Jesus did which, if they were written every one, I suppose the world itself would not hold the books being written” (v. 25). Yet another voice now makes itself heard, a first-person singular, “I suppose.”* Despite the very real possibility that a first-person narrative underlies the third-person narrative which comprises the Gospel of John in its present form, this is the only actual first-person voice in the entire Gospel. Is this “the disciple whom Jesus loved” finally asserting himself as “I,” or is it simply one anonymous member (perhaps a scribe) of the community that vouches for his reliability, assuring us that “we know that his testimony is true” (v. 24)?
The notice appears to be built on the similar acknowledgment a chapter earlier that “Jesus did many, and other,* signs in the presence of his disciples which are not written in this book” (20:30). Both passages acknowledge incompleteness: there is more to the story than what has been told. Yet there are differences too. The notice in chapter 20 has to do with “signs,” probably limited to resurrection signs by which the risen Jesus made himself known to his disciples, while here it is a matter of “things that Jesus did,” enough “things,” we are told, to fill all the books the whole world could ever hold. There the writer could not resist adding just one more “sign” (see 21:1–14). Here nothing is added. We are truly at the end of the Gospel. There it was a matter of what was written in “this book”* (20:30). Here no one “book” is mentioned. The notice could come at the end of a single book, or just as easily after a whole series of books. That in fact is where it does come in our Bibles, at the end of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, the fourfold Gospel, and it is hard not to notice how appropriate it is as a colophon reminding us that even when we have finished reading all four, there are still “many other things that Jesus did.” We have barely scratched the surface.
The matter is complicated by the absence of the entire verse in the first draft of Codex Sinaiticus (
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