While Matthew retains much of Mark’s actual content (see Matthew 13:1-23), his focus is obviously quite different. Matthew is not, it seems to me, advancing any sort of secrecy motif. Instead, he is concerned with connecting his parables to explicit teaching about the “Kingdom of Heaven.” In his commentary on Matthew, R.T. France connects this unit thematically to questions about the rejection of Jesus’ teaching on the kindgom of heaven in chs. 11-12. He writes:

If the message is good, and it is being presented by someone whom the reader has by now learned to recognize as God’s Messiah, why is it not being welcomed and acted on by all those who hear? Surely the very phrase ‘the kingdom of heaven’ predisposes the reader to expect a triumphant proclamation and response. How can God’s kingship be resisted by his own people? The parables [in Matthew 13] provide a variety of models for understanding this conundrum, by highlighting sometimes the varied nature of the hearers (vv. 3-9), sometimes the unexpected nature of the message (vv. 31-33, 44-45), and sometimes the division which is an empirical reality of human society in relation to God (vv. 24-30, 47-50) (France, The Gospel of Matthew, 499).

Thus far I have conducted interviews with a good number of the most important figures working in contemporary Thomas research: Stephen J. Patterson, Nicholas Perrin, Stevan Davies, Risto Uro, Marvin Meyer, Ismo Dunderberg, to name a few. Over the next few months, both Simon Gathercole and Mark Goodacre have books coming out on the Gospel of Thomas. In the coming weeks will be interviewing each of them about their books and their views on important questions in Thomas research. Stay tuned. . . .

Today, I’m in a Wilco mood and I ran across this mini-concert at the NPR studios. It is serving as my daily inspiration before sitting down to write. Enjoy.

I have a little book on the Gospel of Thomas (Paulist Press) coming out in May, an edited volume on Unity and Diversity in the Gospels and Paul (SBL Press) coming out in July, and an edited volume on Johannine characterization (T & T Clark) coming out in late 2012/early 2013. Two of these books are at the presses and the third is nearly done, so I hope to be blogging regularly once again. Thanks to those of you who keep checking for updates even when it’s clear I’m off the grid!

So far I’ve had an opportunity to read the first few essays and I’ve been awakened to the importance of media studies for Johannine studies. I’ve read Werner Kelber (the pioneer of much work done in this area) and some of Thatcher’s previous work in the area of media studies (see especially his book, Why John Wrote a Gospel), but beyond that I had not considered this an issue of major importance. Thatcher’s first chapter (he has two in the book) is entitled, “The Riddle of the Baptist and the Genesis of the Prologue: John 1.-18 in Oral/Aural Media Culture.” In the essay he argues against the long-held source-critical theory that Prologue developed piecemeal and consists of earlier hymnic material and Johannine insertions. Building upon Kelber’s idea of “equiprimordiality,” Thatcher uses assumptions and tools from media studies to argue that the Prologue was an oral, compositional unity.

I look forward to finishing the book over the next week. I’ll try to post more reflections here.

In the previous eight posts I have been systematically discussing the role “the world” (Greek: kosmos) plays as a character in the Fourth Gospel. I have examined a number of specific texts, against the backdrop of several concerns expressed by other scholars. We have arrived at a few conclusions. The Johannine Jesus is from above. The Johannine kosmos consists of both the realm and the people down below. This simple positional contrast is symbolic of the greater divide that exists between Jesus and the world (as character) in John’s Gospel. The two are at odds, but only insofar as the world conspires to bring this about. As the one who comes from above, Jesus has set off on a mission to make God known to humanity. He is both the creator and savior of the world. Like a wayward child, the world will ultimately reject its creator and destroy its savior. The world’s rejection of Jesus amounts to a rejection of the Father who sent him, and by extension, the coming Paraclete as well as Jesus’ followers. Thus, as a character in the Fourth Gospel, the world represents the human forces that stand in opposition to Jesus, and in this way, functions even if surreptitiously, as the story’s primary antagonist. As a character, the world carries the promise of great things but consistently betrays that promise for a darkened perspective that opposes rather than celebrates the plan and people of God.

At the very end of his farewell discourse, Jesus mentions the world once again, almost in passing. After a lengthy speech in which he has sought to prepare his followers for his departure, Jesus closes by offering a final supplication. John 17 consists of one long prayer in which Jesus prays for his own glorification (vv. 1-5), the perseverance and protection of his disciples (vv. 6-19), and the benefit of all future believers (vv. 20-26). In v. 24 Jesus prays that future disciples, those given to him by the Father, may be with him and behold his glory. His next statement pits the world against himself and the future believers for whom he has just prayed (“Even though the world does not know you, I know you and these [viz, the disciples] know that you sent me”).[1] This simple statement reiterates what the reader has already learned about the world—it has no transformative knowledge about the things of God. This ignorance keeps the world in the dark about the Father and his representatives—the Son and the Paraclete. In this context ginosko refers to more than simple knowledge.[2] The knowledge Jesus describes is one rooted in experience. The disciples have experienced God in the person of Jesus, the revealer of the Father (cf. 1:18). Because of its inward orientation, the world has never truly experienced God and therefore has no access to the same type of knowledge possessed by Jesus’ followers.