A Fresh Perspective on The Beloved Disciple: Who it is and Why it Matters to a Life of Faith

One of the reasons I love to spend time in the scriptures is their ability to continually suprise me. Given that my own vantage point is always changing with time and context, the ability to speak in new ways. Or perhaps for me to hear in new ways.

One of the reasons I love to spend time with the scriptures in community with others is because it ensures that my old paradigms have the ability to be constantly challenged. Not only by academics and scholars, but by fellow sourjernors on this spiritual journey.

At times, the revelatory moments have the power to stop me in my tracks. This morning was one of those moments. A fresh revelation that has the potential to completely transform a familiar assumption.

This particular insight comes from a book by James Martin called Come Forth: The Promise of Jesus’s Greatest Miracle. And for what its worth, if you have never read his book Jesus: A Pilgrimage, you need to. Here it concerns the chapter titled He Whom You Love: Jesus Friendship and the Beloved Disciple. Or more specifically, the question of who the beloved disciple is, a long debated question in scholarship.

Now, this insight may be more obvious to some than it is to me. Perhaps this is something I should have been aware of a long time ago. In any case, this is my first time encountering this theory, and the theory is so persuasive that I find myself wondering why its not leading the way as the majority view in scholarship. Perhaps old paradigms are harder to let go of than many of us would care to admit?

In any case, the one leading the way in developing this theory is bliblical scholar Ben Witherington III. And the theory is simply this: the beloved disciple in John’s Gospel is in fact Lazarus.

Consider the following points:

• Not only is the Gospel of John the only Gospel to contain this story, Lazarus is the only one to be called “the beloved.” So much so that the raising of Lazarus goes out of its way to exclaim this as the most significant element of the miracle- “see how he loved him.” A climatic exclamation point of what is seemingly an intentional movement on the part of Jesus to return to Bethany against great danger for this very purpose
• The Gospel of John picks up the phrase “the Beloved Disciple” only and directly after the raising of Lazarus
• The raising of Lazarus forms the thematic and dramatic center of the Gospel
• The narrative structure, with chapter 12 and 13 being framed around dinners, both which lead up to the Passover, Martin cites Witherington unpacking how the original hearers would have heard this story orally, showing how the connecting point between the meal at Lazarus’ house (chapter 12) and the meal in chapter 13 is designed to bring Lazarus to the forefront, particularly as the customary “reclining with or next to the chief guest” of the host
• If this is the case, this would make sense of why every mention of the beloved disciple has him (its a masculine reference) residing within the vicinity of Jersusalem- the host of the house, being able to take Jesus’ mother in at the crucifixion, beating Peter to the grave, having access to places that only a Judean would, ect.
• If Lazarus is the beloved disciple, this makes sense of the seeming contrast between Peter and the “other” or “beloved” disciple that we find in John (think of the beloved disciple beating Peter to the tomb, and instead of Peter we hear only from beloved disciple)
• The burial clothe is mentioned two times in John’s Gospel, once with Lazarus and another with Jesus, and it is tied directly to the beloved disciple “seeing and believing.” Narratively the cloth is used to trigger a direct memory for the beloved disciple.

If all of that wasn’t enough, this is the one point that really got me. Why does Peter respond to Jesus at the end of John’s Gospel by asking “what about him” in response to the question “do you love me.” Even more striking- why does Jesus respond to Peter by saying “If it is my will that he remain until I come, what is that to you?” What does John record this saying as bringing about? A rumour within the community that the disciples would not die.

This has long puzzled readers and scholars alike. Why would this exchange culminate in this rumour? If the beloved disciple is indeed Lazarus, a disciple whom was resurrected, this would make complete sense of such a rumour. This makes sense of why Peter would be singling the beloved disciple out, and why it would be attached to this concern. After all, what do you do with a resurrected individual?

One last point on this front: this also makes sense of why the Gospel of John is composed, or at least portions of it (scholars seem to note three distinct layers of composition within the Gospel itself, meaning, it contains a portion that could very well be one of the earliest written testimonies that we have of the life of Jesus, connected directly to the named eye witness). It is entirely plausible to imagine a community whom had elevated Lazarus within their circle (perhaps in the same way others had elevated Peter?) having this Gospel recenter the real focus on the incarnate, crucified and raised Christ.

And hey, just because I can, why not throw out this tantalizing question for as ludicrous as it sounds- is t possible that Lazarus never died? “What is that to you” is indeed a startling phrase. A good reminder as well regarding our own awareness of our own “Peter” type reactions over and against the work of God.

So why does this matter for me? First, and this feels like stating the obvious, but if this theory is true it adds a whole new layer not just to Mark’s Gospel, which is commonly associated with Peter (what a wonderful exercise to read these two side by side- Mark’s Gospel which leaves the impact of the resurrection cloaked in the mystery of the women fleeing the empty tomb speechless and terrified, paired with the stated witness of Lazarus alongide Peter), but to Peter’s role in Acts and Paul’s writings.

Second, the window it gives us into the imtinate friendship between Lazarus and Jesus becomes a powerful portrait of the ways in which God works for the sake of His creation. That it gives such a flesh and blood context to the Gospel narrative is one of scriptures great gifts. This isn’t simple accounting, its a love letter.

Lastly, I find myself reading the Gospels final chapter with a new fervor and weight. Written so that they (his hearers) might believe. How often do I play this against my modern conception of faith and doubt “in God.” What does it add to read this from the vantage point of a people wrestling with connecting the meaning of two resurrections with the singular work of God’s taking on flesh for the love of the world?