Thread by @JamesBejon

THREAD: John 18-21; Penal Substitutionary Atonement; Doctrine by Narrative.

As @PLeithart has helpfully pointed out (cf. the link at the bottom of the present thread), the imagery employed in John 18-21 is rich with import.

When Jesus dies, he dies as a Levitical sacrifice.

He suffers both because of the law and in the manner prescribed by the law;

he dies in place of others;

and he is treated as a law-breaker despite a life of obedience.

Consider by way of introduction ch. 18’s backdrop.

The Passover has begun to loom on the horizon (12.1);

Jesus has recently been anointed with costly ointment, which prefigures his burial (12.1-8);

the Pharisees have finalised their plans to put an end to Jesus’s life (12.9-10);

and Jesus has just announced his imminent betrayal and departure, which now weighs heavily on his mind.

Hence, as ch. 18 opens, the themes of death and sacrifice are clearly backdropped.

#NiceToVerbNounsFromTimeToTime

John’s earlier references to the Jewish ‘Scriptures’ and ‘law’ heighten the drama.

For John, the law is a source of great danger (5.39, 7.49 cf. Deut. 28.15).

It is punishable by death when transgressed (8.5), and ‘unbreakable’ in nature (7.23, 10.35),

and, like the law established by Darius in Dan. 6, it constantly lurks in the background as Jesus goes about his ministry.

(Note: Like Daniel, Jesus will be arrested while in prayer and thrown into a stone-sealed ‘pit’, yet, much to the chagrin of his enemies, he will later be vindicated and, as a result, a once-hostile law will lose its teeth.)

The geography of John’s narrative adds colour to John’s narrative.

Given its depth, the Kidron valley would have been much darker than the regions around it,

and is specifically associated with tragic events in Jewish history (e.g., David’s exile: 2 Sam. 15.23).

Indeed, the very word ‘Kidron’ conjures up images of clouds and dark waters (cp. 1 Kgs. 18.45, Job 6.16 plus Sem. ḲDR).

The image of darkness is also significant for other reasons.

For John, the darkness is associated with betrayal (‘Judas went out, and it was night’: 13.30),

and prefigures the black skies which will overshadow Judah at the time of Jesus’ crucifixion,

which are symbolic of divine judgment (cf. Jer. 4.28, Joel 2.10).

Jesus’ statement to Peter underscores the point: ‘Should I not drink the cup the Father has given me?’, Jesus asks.

God has prepared a cup--a vessel typically associated with divine wrath (e.g., Psa. 75.7-8, Isa. 51.17, Jer. 25.15-28, Hab. 2.16, Zech. 12.2)--, and Jesus must drink it.

These allusions are brought into sharper focus when we consider the Levitical overtones of chs. 18-20.

John describes a courtyard accessible only to those who move in priestly circles (18.15-16).

(Like Israelites at the Temple, Peter must wait at the doorway and watch from a distance.)

Within the courtyard is a fire and a high priest, to whom Jesus is about to be brought,

bound up, exactly as a sacrifice would be (Psa. 118.27 cf. Gen. 22).

And Jesus has just been welcomed into the city with the words of Psa. 118.25-26 (‘Deliver us, O LORD! Prosper us! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the LORD!’),

which is apposite,

since, in the very next verse, the Psalm instructs its readers to ‘bind the festal sacrifice with cords...to the horns of the altar’ (Psa. 118.27).

In addition, the scene of Jesus’ arrest is simply referred to as ‘the place’ (τοπος: 18.2),

which alludes to the location of the Tabernacle (cp. 11.48 w. Deut. 12.5, 14, 26, etc.).

The courtyard into which Jesus is led has a single point of entry, manned by a ‘doorkeeper’ (18.16 cp. 2 Kgs. 7.11, where הַשֹּׁעֲרִים = οι θυρωροι)--a term employed almost exclusively...

...in the context of the Temple.

And the courtyard is said to contain a ‘charcoal fire’ (18.18: ανθρακια = גַּחֶלֶת), which is evocative of Yom Kippur’s activities,

when ‘live coals’ are taken from the altar into the LORD’s presence (Lev. 16.12).

Symbolically, then, Jesus has been led to the altar as a sacrifice.

But John does not portray Jesus’ death as any kind of sacrifice; John portrays Jesus’ death as a *substitutionary* sacrifice.

Jesus is well aware of Judas’ plan to hand him over to the authorities.

Yet Jesus nevertheless descends into the Kidron valley--a place away from the safety of the multitudes where he can easily be captured (cf. Luke 19.47-48).

The soldiers do not appear to recognise Jesus.

Jesus could easily, therefore, choose to conceal his identity.

But he instead reveals himself plainly.

Just as he will go to Calvary voluntarily, so he will go to the Sanhedrin voluntarily.

‘I am he!’, he says. ‘If (it is) me you seek, let these (other) men go!’ (18.8).

As such, Jesus lets the soldiers lead him away,

and allows his disciples escape unscathed.

He quite literally lays down his life for his friends (15.13), who would otherwise have been crucified alongside their leader (Mark 14.51-52),...

...the good shepherd who ‘lays his life down for the sake of (his) sheep’ (21.17).

That Jesus preserved the earthly lives of twelve Israelites might, of course, seem a rather trivial picture of the wonder and magnitude of Jesus’ sacrifice.

But, as Peter Leithart points out, the disciples were not random individuals;

they were men whom Jesus specifically chose out in order to inaugurate his earthly kingdom, and whom Jesus specifically promised to preserve (cf. 18.9 w. 6.39).

Had the disciples been captured and slain, Jesus’ promise would have failed,

and his kingdom would have failed along with it (cf. 18.9 w. 6.39).

But, of course, Jesus did not die *only* for his disciples, as John brings out by means of Caiaphas’s words.

When Caiaphas is introduced in ch. 18, John reminds us of an important piece of information:

‘Caiaphas was the one who had told the other Jewish leaders, One man should die for the people!’ (18.14).

John’s remark is significant.

In its historical context, Caiaphas’s concern was one of political expedience.

Earlier, the authorities had exclaimed, ‘If we let (Jesus) continue (with his ministry), everyone will believe in him, and the Romans will come and take away both our place and our nation’ (11.48-52),

to which Caiaphas had responded,

‘Let one man (Jesus) die for the people instead!’ (11.51),

and the plot to dispose of Jesus had hence been born (11.53).

Here in ch. 19, Caiaphas’s plot comes to fruition.

Rather than allow Jesus’ ministry to continue, Jesus is handed over to the Romans,

and, per the statement of Caiaphas, the nation of Israel will hence be spared from destruction by the Romans, albeit not for long.

(Ironically, Caiaphas’s rejection of Jesus will lead to precisely what Caiaphas wanted to avoid, viz. the destruction of the Temple: Dan. 9.26.)

But, of course, Caiaphas’s words embody a much deeper significance.

Jesus’ death will not only enable the state of Israel to be temporarily spared:

it will ultimately enable ‘all Israel’ to be eternally saved,

for, by Jesus’ stripes, Israel will be healed (Isa. 53.5, Zech. 12.10, Rom. 11.26-27).

In the meantime, Jesus’ death will enable a new kind of Israel to be saved, namely, the Israel symbolised by Jesus’ twelve disciples,

into which the Gentiles will be ingrafted (Rom. 11).

Insofar as he is crowned with ‘thorns’ (19.2), Jesus bears not only the curse which has befallen Israel’s vineyard (due to its unfruitfulness: Isa. 5.5-6),

but the curse which has befallen all creation (Gen. 3.17-18).

Hence, above the cross, Pilate writes in three languages:

the language of the Jewish people, the language of Rome’s legal system (Latin), and the language of the nations (Greek).

The final words spoken by Caiaphas (and others) shed further light on the nature of Jesus’ death.

‘We have a law’, Caiaphas and his companions proclaim,

‘and, because of that law (κατα τον νομον), Jesus ought to die!’.

As before, Caiaphas’s words can be understood at multiple levels.

The Jews in question do indeed have a law:

they have a body of rules, developed and handed down by their ‘fathers’,

and, in John’s Gospel, Jesus shows little regard for those rules.

He performs miracles on the Sabbath (when he could easily have waited until Sunday).

And, on one occasion, he chooses to make a kind of ‘paste’ in order to restore a blind man’s sight,...

...an act which certain authorities would have regarded as ‘work’ (b. Shabb. 108b).

Given the Jews’ (oral) law, then, Jesus must die.

His refusal to comply with the authorities of the day cannot be tolerated.

Caiaphas’s statement is also true in at least two further senses.

First, Jesus must die κατα τον νομον insofar as he must die in the manner prophetically prescribed by the law of Moses (cp. the sense of κατα in 2.6).

Moses wrote about Jesus (5.45ff.),

and the Scriptures ‘cannot be broken’.

Hence, at the time of the Passover, Jesus the Passover lamb (1.29) must be examined, declared ‘without blemish’ (as he is by Pilate), and slain by Israel’s assembly (cp. Exod. 12.5-6).

Second, given the standards of justice enshrined in Jewish law, Jesus must die.

God has clearly said, ‘I will not acquit the guilty’ (Exod. 23).

If, therefore, Jesus’ people are to be released from the law’s demands, a penalty must be paid,

as is depicted in the substitution of Jesus in place of Barabbas.

As such, Jesus’ death takes place κατα τον νομον = ‘in accord with the law (and its demands)’.

His death is both penal and substitutionary.

More, however, can be said here.

Suppose our discussion so far has been correct;

i.e., suppose Jesus dies a death he does not deserve, and suppose he does so in accord with the law.

All well and good.

But in what sense does Jesus die a death deserved by mankind as a whole?

The answer becomes clearer when we consider why people are ‘hung on a tree’ in Scripture, and the basis on which the Jews seek to have Jesus hung.

People are hung in the OT for one of two reasons: because they have got themselves on the wrong side of a king,

or because they have blood on their hands by association with their father.

Pharaoh’s baker is hung on a tree by Pharaoh (Gen. 40.19-22), the kings of Canaan are hung on a tree by Joshua (Josh. 8.29, 10.26), Saul’s seven sons are hung by the Gibeonites (2 Sam. 4.12),

Absalom ends up stuck in the branches of a tree (18.9), and those who rebel against Artaxerxes are hung on a set of gallows = a tree (Est. 2.23, 7.10, 9.13).

Meanwhile, the Jews seek to have Jesus hung ‘because he made himself out to be the Son of God’ (19.5),

and not only ‘the son of God’ but ‘God himself’ (10.33)!

Yet who, in reality, has put himself on the wrong side of a king in John’s narrative?

Who has blood on his hands by association with the actions of his father?

And who has put himself in place of God?

Jesus certainly has not.

Jesus is the beloved of his heavenly king, and has explicitly been cleared of guilt by Pilate;

he has kept himself free from bloodshed (and in fact healed the high priest’s servant’s ear);

and he has been wholly obedient to God’s law.

Yet the exact opposite is true of Caiaphas and the Jews, as well as of Pilate.

With the awful words, ‘We have no king but Caesar’, the Jews have denied their heavenly king (and have not ingratiated themselves with Pilate either).

They have blood on their hands (since they have aligned themselves with their fathers who slew the prophets: Matt. 27.25, Luke 11.50-51).

And they have exalted their traditions above God’s own law (Mark 7.9-13).

Worse still, as representatives of their people,

they have brought guilt on all Israel.

Meanwhile, via the pardon of Barabbas and the acquittal of Jesus, Pilate has cow-towed to the masses and has transgressed the central tenet of the Mosaic law:

‘You must not follow the multitudes in their evil,...or be convinced by a multitude to pervert justice. ...Keep far from a false charge, and do not kill the innocent or the righteous’ (Exod. 23).

As such, Jesus’ death sentence can be thought of as the penalty which mankind (as represented by both Caiaphas and Pilate) deserve to pay.

Jesus suffers what man deserves to suffer,

and he does so as one who is wholly innocent,

all of which makes Pilate’s actions deeply significant.

Pilate publicly declares Jesus to be innocent and yet passes sentence on him *as if* he was a transgressor.

As such, the actions of Pilate--a representative of divine justice--foreshadow those of Divine Justice itself.

Jesus dies as a transgressor of both Jewish and Gentile law.

But, as Peter Leithart points out, the story of substitutionary atonement does not end with Jesus’ death.

A Levitical sacrifice is not deemed complete until it has ‘ascended’.

The animal acts as a substitute for the worshipper insofar as it does what the worshipper is personally unable to do.

Initially, it serves as a ‘passport’ into the tabernacle since it allows the worshipper to approach Israel’s altar (Lev. 1.3-5, etc.).

And, as it goes up in smoke, it ascends into God’s presence on the worshipper’s behalf (Lev. 1.8-9 etc.) as a picture of his fellowship with God, just as Jesus does (Heb. 6.19-20).

These notions of ‘ascension as restoration’ are clearly brought out by the contrast between John’s pre-crucifixion and post-resurrection narratives.

Prior to Jesus’ death, Jesus and the disciples’ fellowship is broken.

The disciples abandon Jesus in the Kidron valley,

and, a few hours later, Jesus dies, his relationship with his disciples in tatters.

These details are important, since, when Christ appears to his disciples on the far side of the resurrection, he does so in order to renew/restore his fellowship with them.

His first words to the gathered disciples (‘Peace to you’) are not a mere formality; they are words of restoration, which Jesus repeats three times in answer to Peter’s denial of him (20.19, 20.21, 20.26).

Meanwhile, the disciples eat and drink in God’s very presence...

...as they fellowship with their risen Saviour.

By means of the resurrection, Jesus is reunited with his people, and they are united with their God.

Conclusion:

Substitutionary atonement is not merely a theological construct which certain over-zealous theologians superimpose on top of Jesus’ ministry.

On the contrary, it is hard-baked into the events of Jesus’ ministry,

and constitutes an integral part of the plot of John’s Gospel.

When Jesus dies, he dies as a Levitical sacrifice. He suffers *because of* the law and in the manner *prescribed* by the law, and he does so in place of others.

Moreover, he suffers as a transgressor, while he himself is a man of perfect obedience.

For more/better thoughts on the subject, cf. Peter Leithart’s lecture on the matter:



Meanwhile, let us live our lives for the One who has given his on our behalf.