The Passion & Resurrection According to John
The Gospel of John 18-21
By Fr. Bernhard Blankenhorn, OP and Jon Talbot
Session 4: John 20 May 11, 2008
A succinct summary of the Passion of our Lord in the Gospel of John is found in our profession of faith: "For our sake he was crucified under Pontius Pilate; he suffered, died and was buried." We have seen an amplification of that confession and that truth in our study. John's narrative showed Jesus' arrest, his interrogation before Annas, his trial before Pilate at the praetorium, his crucifixion at Golgotha, and his burial in a tomb in a garden. We noticed too, how John pointed out that Jesus was in control: he freely gave himself up to the soldiers in the garden; he countered Pilate's threat of power with the truth that power comes from above, he bore his own cross; he bowed his head and gave up his spirit. He declared, "It is finished." Indeed, he fulfilled his own words, regarding his life--"No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it again" (John 10:17).
John also gave us many vivid interactions. We probed two in detail--Peter's denial and the words of Jesus, spoken from the cross, to his mother and the disciple. Among many insights, we noticed Peter denying his true identity by denying Jesus, while the other disciple furthered his identity with Jesus, by taking Mary into his own. That is an example of the contrasts John makes in his narrative, a Spirit-inspired masterpiece which always dares us to excavate the topsoil of the text so our hands can handle the rich deposits of truth, and to make real in our lives the purpose stated at the end of chapter 20, and that chapter is our focus this evening.
It's tempting to title chapter 20 with the words that follow the line from the creed above: "On the third day he rose again in fulfillment of the Scriptures." Without a doubt, John shows us the risen Lord in his narrative, but his Resurrection account is carefully shaped for specific purposes. Although it sounds somewhat creed-like and apologetic in places, it seems more particular and personal than the large scope shown by St. Paul in I Corinthians 15: 3-8:
For I delivered to you as of first importance what I also received, that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the scriptures, that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the scriptures, and that he appeared to Cephas, then to the twelve. Then he appeared to more than five hundred brethren at one time, most of whom are still alive though some have fallen asleep. Then he appeared to James, then to all the apostles. Last of all, as to one untimely born, he appeared also to me.
John doesn't need 500 extras to pull off his play. Instead, he casts a handful of followers, zooming in on very personal, post-resurrection appearances of Jesus.
Chapter 20 seems to have four clear sections: 1) Jesus shows himself to Mary Magdalene, vv. 1-18. 2) Jesus shows himself to the disciples, vv. 19-23. 3) Jesus shows himself to Thomas, vv. 24-29. 4) Jesus shows himself to us through all John has written, vv. 30-31. The appearance of Jesus in each of those four sections has a dramatic effect upon the recipient: 1) Mary Magdalene truly sees the risen Jesus and is the first to deliver that message to the disciples. 2) The disciples are empowered to begin a ministry of reconciliation. 3) Thomas has his doubts removed and believes. 4) And through John's Gospel--"these are written that"--we can see the risen Jesus, and believe and have "life in his name."
Mary Magdalene takes center stage in our first section, vv. 1-18. She comes to the tomb early in the morning, amid the dark shadows of the garden, hoping to anoint Jesus' body. Her concern and devotion for Jesus didn't waver from the time that she was healed of seven demons. Luke 8: 1-3 informs us that she, along with others, provided means for Jesus and the disciples. In Mark's Gospel we learn that Mary Magdalene, along with Mary the mother of James, and Salome, brought spices to anoint the body of Jesus. But here John limits the cast as I've mentioned above. So when Mary realizes the body is missing, she immediately runs to the disciples. She can't get the words out fast enough--"They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him." Stealing bodies was commonplace enough that a decree issued by emperor Claudius, who reigned from 41-54 AD, "ordered capital punishment for those destroying tombs, or removing bodies, or displacing the sealing or other stones" (Beasley-Murray 371). The disciples quickly react to her distress by running to the tomb themselves. They too notice the body is missing, but for some reason they return to their homes. Were they in the middle of watching a fishing program on the Discovery Channel?
This part of the narrative is peculiar and a little puzzling to me. Let's look at it for a minute before we return to Mary Magdalene. Of course, Peter has no trouble stooping down and entering the empty tomb. Then the other disciple enters, sees exactly what Peter noticed, yet "he saw and believed." Then in verse 9, we read "for as yet they did not know the Scripture, that he must rise from the dead." This not knowing is more like not getting it, not putting two and two together. For we know that the disciples were given strong hints and clues about Jesus going away and coming back and we also read often of their failure to comprehend and understand the Lord's words. In John 16:16, Jesus told them "A little while, and you will no longer see me, and again a little while, and you will see me." Two verses later, the disciples are scratching their heads, and they say, "What does he mean by this a 'little-while'? We do not know what he is talking about" (16:18). What seems confusing is that the other disciple believes and apparently Peter doesn't. How can either of them believe since they do not yet understand that Jesus will rise from the dead? Wouldn't verse 9 make more sense if both Peter and the disciple didn't believe? One way to overcome this confusion is to put an asterisk on the disciple's belief, saying it wasn't the real thing. But the belief John describes is authentic; the same word used here is the one used by Jesus in his response to Thomas--"Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe" (20:29). Beasley-Murray notes that this word, pisteuo, ("believe") when used absolutely, as here, means genuine faith. The seeing and believing in the empty tomb is akin to seeing and believing the 'signs' of Jesus, and this was a sign from the Lord" (373).
But then we are left with Peter's lack of belief. He saw the same evidence as the disciple saw. He heard the same things as the disciple heard--except the words from the cross. And he couldn't have been so blind to the evidence. Columbo could have walked into the tomb and told us there's no robbery here. These are expensive cloths and spices and what robber is going leave them, let alone take time to fold them according to Marine Corps standards. You would think that Peter would get it, that he would believe too. But that's unlikely since John does not say so and especially when we consider the evidence from Luke's Gospel: "Stooping down [Peter] saw the strips of linen lying by themselves, and he went away, wondering to himself what had happened" (24:12). It's safe to conclude that Peter is lacking faith and in need of further illumination.
Also, in the scheme of John's narrative, this becomes another point of contrast between Peter and the disciple. The contrast here is obvious: one truly sees and one doesn't. John delights in pointing out the contrasts between these two. Here are four instances: 1) After Jesus' arrest, the other disciple enters the court of the high priest, while Peter "stood outside at the door." 2) The other disciple is with Mary near the cross and Peter has disappeared. 3) In chapter 21, the other disciple recognizes Jesus on the shore, and makes it known to Peter, who seems aloof. 4) Three times Jesus asks Peter, "Do you love me?" whereas throughout the Gospel we read of "that disciple whom Jesus loved," clearly showing the disciple's fervent love for Jesus. I'll leave that with you for your own consideration, especially as John has more to describe between the two in the next chapter.
There's one more thing to consider before we get back to Mary--why is the disciple returning home with Peter? If he has believed, why not stay and comfort Mary? Is it possibly to walk along and encourage Peter in his down-like state--remember his presumption, denial, and the rooster's crowing (an 'I told you so' from Jesus)----or possibly to give Mary space to grieve. Or, maybe the other disciple is patient, having already believed, and has no problem returning home, trusting he will see Jesus when the time is right.
Many applications could spill from this, and I'll mention just one. We need the Lord's discernment in how we approach those in need. Both Peter and Mary were hurting. We need wisdom to know when to accompany someone and when to leave them alone. Too many times we have said the wrong thing, said too much, acted without empathy and sensitivity, forced our way in without knocking. We acted more like a telemarketer than a true friend. Did the disciple see a greater need in joining Peter than with joining Mary? If we look at the outcome we can say yes, and see that the disciple chose well. We don't have that privilege, as our story is still in process, but we do have the same Holy Spirit to rely on as we pray and seek the Lord's will.
Granted, this may be miles beyond John's intent and the point is not deeply profound. But is it beyond the Holy Spirit's intent when we are given an insight--simple or profound--while grappling with the Word? This is what plopped in my lap, as I worked the topsoil of the text. It's my beginning; my entry point. Did you come tonight expecting to be spiritually and theologically blown away and wowed with heavy-duty industrial Dominican theology? I hope not, otherwise you'll be disappointed, for I've just spent about fifteen minutes introducing a little thought of how we might be sensitive to others. But I say to you, here's your hat, what's your hurry? If you were in this room on Wednesday evening, you heard Sister Noffke explain that for many years--I think she said 7 years--she was asking the wrong question in studying St. Catherine of Sienna. But the light came and invited her to look at this Doctor and Saint in a new way, with a new question, and now we have the fruit of the Sister's work. Why this extended sidebar on chapter 20? To encourage you to start where you can, to grapple and sit with Scripture, and to wrestle with the things that puzzle you. For the Holy Spirit may just drop something in your lap. May just give you an occasion--heaven sent, where you are led to express, in a deeper way, the life you have in his name. Maybe next time the harvest will be more plentiful and profound.
Meanwhile, Mary has been weeping at the tomb in the garden. If we learned anything from my extended sidebar about Peter and the disciple, we can be pretty sure that John sends those two back home, off the stage, to accentuate the encounter between Mary Magdalene and the risen Jesus.
Picture the scene: it's early, it's dark. Mary has come with expectations--to anoint the body of Jesus. The disciples have come and gone. They haven't been much help. She's probably more emotionally consumed after running back and forth to the tomb. She's upset, out of breath, distressed, confused, weeping, and worrying. Underneath those aspects of stress thrives a devotion to Jesus that refuses to go unanswered. On her feast day, July 22, the Church, in her wisdom, opens a window to Mary's heart. The first reading is from the Song of Songs, chapter 3: 1-4:
Upon my bed by night I sought him whom my soul loves; I sought him, but found him not; I called him, but he gave no answer. I will rise now and go about the city, in the streets and in the squares; I will seek him whom my soul loves. I sought him, but found him not. The watchmen found me, as they went about in the city. 'Have you seen him whom my soul loves?' Scarcely, had I passed them, when I found him whom my soul loves. I held him and would not let him go until I had brought him into my mother's house, and into the chamber of her that conceived me.
Mary's quest for Jesus is intense. Her tears indicate her passion, and while weeping she stoops, humble and yet afraid, to look into the tomb. She sees two angels. They ask her why she is weeping. While she answers, pouring out the words of her dilemma, she turns and sees Jesus standing, "but she did not know that it was Jesus." Jesus asks the same question as the angels, and for the third time--how many things come in three's in this Gospel--Mary laments about the missing body, but this time pleads--"tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away." She's at the end of her rope. She's desperate. She is done with the hoping and now wants to literally take matters into her own hands. Freeze the scene. Stay with Mary, who suffers, because her Lord is absent.
Jesus gave her space; he didn't immediately reveal himself to her. He let her express her need and desire. He didn't interrupt her. At the right time, he spoke her name, and she turned and recognized her Shepherd. "The sheep hear his voice, and he calls his own sheep by name and leads them out" (John 10:3b).
How did Mary come to recognize Jesus? How is it she failed to see him initially, supposing him to be a gardener? In the Emmaus road story in Luke, we remember that Jesus became known to the disciples in the breaking of the bread. As soon as the bread was blessed, broken, and given--"their eyes were opened and they recognized him" (Luke 24:30b-31b). Here, Mary's recognition comes at the mention of her name. In Luke, Jesus breaks bread, in John, Jesus speaks a name. In both accounts, there is also a hint that Jesus disguises himself, which is easily done, since he has a resurrected body. We also know that he can vanish and appear at will.
So, in one sense, we can say that Jesus revealed himself to Mary and gave her grace to see. But was Mary passive, did she have anything to do with recognizing Jesus? I think so. She sought the Lord with all her heart. This is highlighted by her actions and by her response to Jesus' question: "Whom do you seek?"--a question we've heard before. She had put herself in a position to see Jesus; her desire and tears rolled out the red carpet for Jesus to walk into her heart. Faith and grace were holding hands in this encounter.
But there's more to Mary's seeing than meets the eye. It's important to notice how very clearly and deeply Mary's seeing is. When she says to the disciples, "I have seen the Lord," she means more than simply catching sight of him. She has seen the risen Lord--a face-to-face encounter. And it's a seeing that quickly evolves into service. St. Thomas Aquinas calls her the "Apostle to the Apostles." Her contemplation flows into commission, and it seems that her love for Jesus is realized more in preaching than in holding on to her Savior. John's narrative is brisk at this juncture. Jesus doesn't allow Mary to hug or hold his feet as some understand, and is told to go to the disciples. Wait a minute. Give her a break. She's been waiting, weeping, and worrying all morning, and finally is rewarded with the sight of her Lord. Can't they pull into Starbuck's and have a cup of coffee or at least take a walk through the garden and chat. They just met. The Mass is ended. Go in peace to love and serve the Lord.
Mary's "I have seen the Lord," may be the most crucial phrase in the Gospel. It soundly echoes John's purpose. It's the perfect response from having encountered Jesus. It's a proclamation that runs back and forth through this Gospel. Remember when the soldiers gambled for the Lord's garment. John tells us that "the tunic was seamless, woven in one piece from the top" (19:23b). Some have suggested that this is symbolic of John's Gospel. For his narrative is one piece and 'seeing' the Lord is certainly a strong thread that keeps the whole intact. Take just a few examples. 1) Look how the Gospel is framed. In the prologue, which highlights the Incarnation, we read: "And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory" (1:14a). And so did Mary in the garden. In our chapter 20, just before John signals his purpose, Thomas sees the Lord's glory. And Jesus blesses all who will believe, obviously from the sight of faith.
2) Look at three key instances of the same question posed by Jesus--in 1:35, after John the Baptist referred to the Lord as the Lamb of God and two disciples were following Jesus; in 18:4,7, the scene of Jesus' arrest in the garden; and in 20:15, in our focus on Mary. "Whom do you seek?" is the question. It's not a distortion, in the context of John's theological aims, to hear that as "Whom do you see?" 3) Consider also the plethora of images of darkness/light, blindness/sight. 4) Consider the wealth of seeing between the Father and the Son--one example: "Whoever has seen me has seen the Father" (14:9a). When you notice the same Greek word is used here as in Mary's 'seeing,' you realize the truth she has encountered. 5) Consider lastly the inability of the world to receive the Holy Spirit in 14:17, "because it neither sees him nor knows him."
All of this puts Mary's situation in context. She has been looking for the Lord; she sees the Lord, and now she is commissioned to help others see the Lord. She is the model of being a Word-seeker, a Word-finder, and a Word-bringer. Is it any wonder that John orchestrates the scene this way to accentuate Mary's discovery and mission?
You will notice that the first section began early, in the morning. Now we read, "When it was evening on that day." These verses in 19-23 are rich in liturgical and sacramental language. Jesus immediately breaks through the doors, stands in their midst and says, "Peace be with you." Immediately he shows his hands and his side. They are proofs of his glory, having been lifted up on the cross, and continuing proofs of his Incarnation--a real body standing before the disciples. The Mass mirrors this scene, for soon after the sign of peace, we partake of the Lord's body and blood. This morning, during the 7:30 AM Mass, I recall the sun shining and glowing all around the altar as soon as Fr. Bernhard had given the sign of peace. It was a powerful moment: God's special effects in action. After this, the disciples rejoiced in seeing the Lord. Beasley-Murray has the excellent sense to call 'peace' the appropriate Easter greeting and 'joy' the basic mood of Easter (379). The peace and real presence of Jesus filled the room where the disciples met and also continues to fill us in the Eucharist.
Of course, the thrust of this passage is the giving of the disciples the power of the Holy Spirit for the ministry of reconciliation. It is a ministry intended to carry on the work given to the Son by the Father--"As the Father has sent me, so I send you." It is a ministry instituted by Jesus Christ. It is a ministry empowered by the Holy Spirit. It is a ministry that involves forgiving sins and retaining sins. It has a wide scope that includes the commission given at the end of Matthew's Gospel--to baptize and to teach. It encompasses the command of Jesus to Peter in the next chapter, "Feed my sheep." It is expressed in the Acts of the Apostles, as Peter and John and Paul are engaged in preaching and healing. Francis J. Moloney says that the "disciples...empowered by the Spirit will be the agents for the future sanctification of generations of believers" (533).
It is also a ministry that involves us as we act out the message of I Peter 2:9: "But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God's own people, in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light." It is a ministry in which we exercise our spiritual gifts, as Fr. Daniel reminded us this morning, "To each one is given a manifestation of the Spirit."
But this passage, within its wide focus, also gives us the sacrament of penance. We don't have to look too far to notice that some Christians and maybe some Catholics have dismissed the sacraments out of their Bible study and theology. Some do so because their ideology locks them into a rigid mindset that has no room for even a peripheral vision of tradition. It is here that we need the theological lens of our Catholic faith. J.A. DiNoia, OP, and Bernard Mulcahy, OP, in an essay on scripture and sacramental theology, claim that theological interpretation "enjoys a privileged access to the text," whereas some feel that our best study of Scripture is not within the light of faith and tradition as spelled out in the Catechism of the Catholic Church ( #'s112-114, which we looked at in our first class), "but by studies which treat the Bible as something other than what Christians believe it to be" (344). They go on to state that "[t]he church's conviction that Christ instituted the sacraments and that he continues to be active in them is one that arises from faith and is rooted in an understanding of Scripture as read and interpreted in faith" (333) That is why we should keep the Catechism of the Catholic Church alongside the Scriptures. We read in #1461,
Since Christ entrusted to his apostles the ministry of reconciliation, bishops who are their successors, and priests, the bishops' collaborators, continue to exercise this ministry. Indeed bishops and priests, by virtue of the Sacrament of Holy Orders, have the power to forgive sins 'in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.'
The Scriptural reference to the first part of the quote comes from verse 23 in our chapter. The disciples will not leave that room with fuzzy, weak ideas of how to carry on the hour of Jesus--his death and resurrection and giving of the Spirit-- into the hours of history. Christ has gifted them with the tools and the authority to bring about what DeNoia and Mulcahy emphasize:
In the Catholic perspective the sacraments are the main way in which our transformation is accomplished by Christ through the Holy Spirit in the church. The sacraments, far from being magical ceremonies held in the church's possession, are acts of Christ himself, acts in which physical signs and human agents are used by God to accomplish a divine purpose. The purpose...is none other than the salvific work of Christ--the sacraments accomplish in us everything Christ wrought and purchased by his cross and resurrection. Because the sacraments are Christ's own, only because they are his own, they effect our forgiveness, healing and transformation for the life of heavenly adoption (331).
Look back to our text in vv. 19-23. Those Spirit-breathed words, poured from the lips of Jesus in that locked room that John describes, blow all the way from Jerusalem to our confessionals, and when we hear the formula of absolution pronounced by the priest, we have confidence that our sins have been forgiven. That formula (found in CCC #1449) packs and carries an economy of truth, worthy of meditation--before and after confession and also provides a fitting summary to this section in chapter 20:
God, the Father of mercies, through the death and the resurrection of His Son, has reconciled the world to himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins; through the ministry of the Church may God give you pardon and peace, and I absolve you from your sins, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, of the Holy Spirit.
There are two more things, before look at the confession of Thomas. You might be curious about the phrase "if you retain the sins of any, they are retained." N.T. Wright understands it in this way:
[The disciples] are also to 'retain sins'; to warn the world that sin is a serious, deadly disease, and that to remain in it will bring death. They are to rebuke and warn--not because they don't like people, or because they are seeking power or prestige for themselves, but because this is God's message to a muddled, confused and still rebellious world (150-151).
Secondly, I want to go back to the idea of keeping the Catechism next to your Bible. Consider this statement from Living Jesus: Learning the Heart of the Gospel by Luke Timothy Johnson:
If [Jesus] is alive...everything changes. It is no longer a matter of our questioning a historical record, but a matter of our being put in question by one who has broken every rule of ordinary human existence. If Jesus lives, then it must be as life-giver. Jesus is not simply a figure of the past in that case, but a person in the present; not merely a memory that we can analyze and manipulate, but an agent who can confront and instruct us. What we learn about him must therefore include what we continue to learn from him. (4-5).
When I read this, and especially the entire introduction, which thoroughly squashes those who believe in a 'Jesus movement' without a belief in resurrection, I thought of something so obvious that it sounds silly to mention it. But when we read and study the Scriptures, especially texts like the Gospel of John that are post-resurrection writings, we read it in light of the risen Jesus, our risen Lord, and we learn about Jesus from the text while he lives beyond the text, ruling our world, and teaching us. In my previous evangelical life, it seemed like Jesus was conveniently locked up in the pages of the Bible. For the tradition I held was Bible alone, Sola Scriptura. As a Catholic, I can see that Jesus has opened up His Word for me. I can best explain this in a visual way.
Yesterday morning, during an Adoration hour, these thoughts crystallized as I sat and prayed in church. I noticed the prominence of the Easter Candle as it straddled the ambo (the podium for the Gospel and lectionary text). And, if you're a reader or a priest, you can't help to be aware of its presence during the Easter Season. Don't dare wave your hands wildly to make a point in a homily or you will knock it down. Significantly, the candle straddles the ambo, which symbolizes for me our living Lord straddling the Scriptures. We can't read them well without his living presence hovering over us. I find that an apt description of Scripture and Tradition as one Revelation from God.
Further, during Adoration your eye meets the altar, the monstrance, and behind it, the crucifix. During the hour of adoring, you see the hour of Jesus--his death, his resurrection, the giving of the Spirit, the Word alive. You see the Gospel of John dramatized before you. And during that quiet, reflective hour, as the Gospel of John sat open on my lap, the black print on the oft-turned pages became a living Word. That's my picture of reading your Bible alongside the Catechism.
We come now, finally, to the person of Thomas, John's last character in this Resurrection chapter. For Mary, Jesus solved her desire of longing; for the disciples, he solved their dread of fear; and for Thomas he solved his doubt of belief. Jesus is the perfect solution to our problems. He also becomes the strength for service by means of the Holy Spirit, as Mary, the disciples, and Thomas, are transformed from those in need to those who reach out to others.
Isn't it odd that the one who made the "most splendid profession of faith in the whole of the New Testament" (Pope Benedict XVI ) --to confess that Jesus is God incarnate, God in the flesh, or as we profess--true God from true God, begotten not made, one in being with the Father--is labeled negatively as doubting Thomas. Jesus did not appear to rebuke him or chide him for his need. As he came to Mary with the word of her name, and to the disciples with words of peace, so he comes again in love to Thomas, bearing his wounds, offering himself, and greeting him with the thrice-mentioned words in this chapter: "Peace be with you." Jesus reverses the concern of Thomas, that unless he could literally touch and see the wounds, he would not believe. Pope Benedict XVI sees a positive insight from Thomas' ultimatum:
Basically, from these words emerges the conviction that Jesus can now be recognized by his wounds rather than by his face. Thomas holds that the signs that confirm Jesus' identity are now above all his wounds, in which he reveals to us how much he loved us. In this the Apostle is not mistaken (103).
In the words of Thomas, "My Lord and My God," considered as the climax of the Gospel, we come full circle from the prologue. The tunic was seamless, woven from the top. Fr. Bernhard will take up the last two verses of chapter 20 next week. I close my talk with words from Jean Vanier, regarding the wounds of Jesus:
A gaping hole remains in his side, big enough to fit a hand; a hole remains in his hands and feet big enough to fit a finger. These wounds are there for all ages and all time, to reveal the humble and forgiving love of Jesus who accepted to go to the utter end of love. The risen Jesus does not appear as the powerful one, but as the wounded and forgiving one. These wounds become his glory. From the wound in his side flowed the waters that vivify and heal us. Through his wounds we are healed.
Jesus invites each one of us, through Thomas, to touch not only his wounds, but those wounds in others and ourselves, wounds that can make us hate others and ourselves and can be a sign of separation and division. These wounds will be transformed into a sign of forgiveness through the love of Jesus and will bring people together in love. These wounds reveal that we need each other. These wounds become the place of mutual compassion, of indwelling and of thanksgiving.
We, too, will show our wounds when we are with him in the kingdom, revealing our brokenness and the healing power of Jesus. (345-346).
Note: This passage is presented as prose for the sake of space, but in the book it is presented as poetry.
Bibliography
Beasley-Murray, George R., Word Biblical Commentary, V. 36, John (Waco, TX: Word Books, 1987).
Benedict XVI, Pope, The Apostles (Huntington, IN: Our Sunday Visitor, 2007).
Catechism of the Catholic Church, 2nd Edition (New York, NY: Doubleday, 1997).
DiNoia, J.A. OP and Mulcahy, Bernard, OP, "The Authority of Scripture in Sacramental Theology: Some Methodological Observation." Pro Ecclesia Vol. X, No. 3, 329-345.
Moloney, Francis J., The Gospel of John, Sacra Pagina (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1998).
Johnson, Luke Timothy, Living Jesus: Learning the Heart of the Gospel (San Francisco, CA: Harper, 1998).
Vanier, Jean, Drawn into the Mystery of Jesus through the Gospel of John (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 2004).
Wright, Tom (N.T.), John for Everyone, Part Two, Chapters 11-21 (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2004).
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