About the realistic worldview

Contents Part 1 1. The Miracle of the Fourth Gospel 2. Prologue of the Gospel of John: 1.1–2.6 3. God and the world. Created Sophia (John 1:3–5) Part 2 1. Its general character 2. The doctrine of the Holy Trinity 3. Christology 4. Love and joy in the Fourth Gospel 5. Judgment 6. Predestination 7. Mariology in the Fourth Gospel 8. Miracles of Christ in the Fourth Gospel 9. Passion of the Cross 10. Appearances of the Lord after the Resurrection 1. Miracle of the Fourth Gospel. All the Gospels are wonderful because they contain - each in different ways and in their own way - a miraculous image of Christ, although depicted in human words in all its limitations and with all the features peculiar to the place, time, primary sources, and compiler. Above all these features, in them and through them, with the breath of the Spirit of God, the face of Christ shines, and verbal manifestations of Christ occur on earth. These phenomena take place in the Church and for the Church through regular established readings, although they are not directly contained in the Gospel text, which is considered and studied by means of scientific, literary-critical research. The latter has its rights and its truth, it is justified not only by human inquisitiveness, but also by reverent attention to the verbal icon of the icon of Christ (however, it is not the icon itself), which has in itself something miraculous, supernatural. And of all the Gospels, the fourth especially stands out precisely because of its iconicity and miraculousness; in this sense, it is a miracle among the miracles of the entire Four Gospels, in the deliberateness and completeness of divine revelation. It’s as if she even argues with the external features of his narrative, with the seemingly deliberate poverty and sometimes even helplessness of words. However, this is combined with heavenly flights in some cases and with stunning power of representation in others. If the fourth Gospel were not at all in the canon, in which it appeared only last in time, as if with a great delay (around the beginning of the 2nd century), then we would have the synoptic image of Christ in all the brightness and concreteness of the image, through which His divinity would shine through. But it is precisely in this humanization of the incarnate God that all the limitations of such contemplation would be revealed, which becomes obvious to us in the heavenly light of the Fourth Gospel. The latter presupposes what is already known, implies the content of the Synoptic Gospels, but it does not so much complement it as illuminate it in a new way, penetrating it with its own light. It is by no means some kind of appendage to the weather forecasters, an addition to them, but is their focus, like the theology of the Evangelist Theologian according to the entire gospel narrative. It is the very essence of the entire Four Gospels, the Gospel of the Gospels. But it is amazing and unique precisely as evangelical theology. All the Gospels, like other sacred books, are divinely inspired in their content, as touches of divine truth. But they are narrated by sacred writers with human broadcasts, according to the strength of their personal human capabilities. Therefore, they are characterized by the features of personal creativity, in their diversity, but also in their limitations. This is the collection of sacred books, the Holy Bible. What can be said about the mysterious and much disputed, variously defined person of the compiler of the fourth Gospel, the Evangelist Theologian? The Church testifies to him as the Apostle John, son of Zebedee, one of the twelve, the “beloved” disciple of Christ, the Galilean fisherman, called to the apostleship by Him directly from the canoe and nets. This young man was a child of nature. In him, at most, one can assume the features of a well-known church upbringing characteristic of the era and country, although they almost do not appear in him during his stay near Christ. For his ardor, obviously, together with his brother Jacob, he will remain the “Son of Thunder” (Matthew 3:17). And this fisherman appears before us as the Evangelist Theologian, the compiler of the Fourth Gospel, a miracle of theology. There are no noticeable traces of philosophical enlightenment and, in general, influences characteristic of the era, its philosophy, although the latter is called upon to translate its content into its own language, to comprehend it religiously and philosophically. But the fourth Gospel is precisely theology: contemplation and thought of God, with creative knowledge of divine things. This clearly demonstrates the special gift of the fourth evangelist, his theological genius, combined with prophetic insights and apostolic knowledge. The disciple of Christ, spiritually reclining on His chest, spent His entire earthly ministry near Him, in communion with Him, and also saw His appearance and revelation after His resurrection and ascension. He expresses the result of all this life experience not only as a witness, but also as a theologian. And this is his uniqueness among other evangelists and apostles. To a certain extent, Ap. comes close to him in the latter sense. Paul, who, however, was not and could not be an evangelist, since he was not a disciple of Christ during the days of His earthly ministry, but was called by Him to the apostleship only after him. Genius is always mysterious, as is its creativity. Among the apostles who surrounded Christ, as well as other persons who were in spiritual contact with Him (like Nicodemus, the Samaritan woman, Martha and Mary), each in their own way creatively responding to the call of Christ, only John had this gift of theological contemplation. What did this have to do with him? The weather forecasters did not see a theologian in him, and they were not called to recognize this gift. On the contrary, the traits that they note in him are more likely to relate to narrow-mindedness, although they invariably testify to the warm heart and ardent temperament of the “son of Thunder”: such is the appeal to Christ to burn down with fire from heaven the Samaritan villages that refused hospitality (Luke 51–6), and the jealous desire to forbid a person who cast out demons, but did not walk with Jesus (Mark 9:38; Luke 9:49) and even the seemingly selfish request of James and John (Mark 17:35) together with their mother (Matthew 27-27) for places of honor in the kingdom of God. The latter could express special zeal for Him and was turned precisely in this direction by Christ with the word about the cup and baptism. However, this natural fervor in the fourth Gospel receives a completely new characteristic: John here is the “beloved disciple” of Christ, as if His personal friend (along with Lazarus and his sisters Martha and Mary, “their beloved Jesus”). But even this personal friendship, about which we know so little, cannot be compared with the absolutely exceptional closeness of the beloved disciple, who at the Last Supper reclined on the chest of Jesus, did not leave Him when all the disciples fled, stood at the cross with His Mother, having accepted from Him His last will about her (John 19; 22, 6-7), and finally, was a prophetic seer of His future accomplishments (Revelation). All this puts the Apostle John in the position of the only one, the first in the apostolic twelve, although in a special sense, different from the primacy of Petrov. 1 It is quite obvious that John was not only a beloved disciple of Christ, but he himself loved Him with selfless, reciprocal love. The other apostles did not have such a gift (which was manifested in their abandonment of Christ on the night of Gethsemane), not excluding Peter. The restoration of the latter in the apostleship after renunciation is accomplished by Christ through threefold questioning precisely about his love, as if through its verification. This was not and could not be the case in relation to John. But it is precisely this gift of love for John that is the source of his theological inspiration. It gives him the ability of contemplative penetration into the mysteries of God, it is the power of his theological genius, the inspiration of its eagle takeoff. She imparts a special depth and intimacy to his communication with Christ, this personal friendship with Him. And in connection with this last one involuntarily thinks not only about what is told in the Gospel, but also about what, although not told, is still felt, as it were, on top of the Gospel writings: only His beloved friend can speak about Christ in this way. Moreover, the Gospel of John is usually called spirit-bearing, pneumatic, and that is what it is. But the hypostasis of Love in the Holy Trinity, in the trinity of love, is the Holy Spirit, and the disciple of Christ, beloved and especially loved Him, is also a deliberate spirit-bearer, chosen by hypostatic love itself, by the Holy Spirit, giving inspiration to theology, one might say, grace-filled genius in him. Through this, the mystery of the theological Gospel in its uniqueness and incomparability is more fully revealed to us. Theological genius can only be the genius of love for God, in the life of God, and through this in the knowledge of God in all that immediacy that is characteristic of John’s Gospel. But even this is still not enough. The Spirit-bearing Gospel of Christ’s beloved disciple is also such in a special sense: it is the Gospel not only of Christ’s friend, but of His Mother’s son through adoption, which was, of course, reciprocally accepted and shared by the Spirit-Bearer herself. Through this, the Gospel of John becomes, in a certain sense, the Gospel of or through Mary. The ring of triune love, which closed at the cross when the word of Christ was heard from it: “Woman, behold Thy son” - “behold thy Mother” contains the ineffable secret of the divine-human love, silent and ineffable, accomplished through this adoption. It was told only by John himself. It was he alone, of course, who could have announced it; he alone knew it. It was accomplished throughout the rest of his life, because he “from that hour received her into his house” (John 19-27). This means that John spends his entire life in communication with the Most Holy One. The Mother of God, in Her teachings, inspirations, revelations about Her Son as well as about Herself, starting from the Annunciation (and even earlier) and ending with Her blessed Dormition. Thus, after earthly communion with Christ, the God-Man, the incarnate Son of God, he proceeds to communion with His Mother, His humanity in the hypostasis of Mary, who herself is the receptacle of the Holy Spirit, the Spirit-Bearer. No human giftedness in its strength can correspond to such a calling and service; only the gift of love and purity of heart gilds the human head of the eagle of theology with its sanctification. The Fourth Gospel, together with the other writings of John, is a testimony of what was from the beginning, what we have seen with our eyes, what we have looked at, what we have touched with our hands (1 John 1:1). But all this was written in extreme old age, in the perspective of time that seemed to have already stopped, in the clarity of a bright old age, which retained all the youthful freshness of perception. Memories dear to the heart about the most dear, intimate and stunning things - the Last Supper, the crucifixion, the appearance of the Risen One - always burn in him with an illuminating fire, the words and teachings of the Lord are always preserved in memory, the heavenly music of which is composed into a divine symphony. Of course, this cannot be a shorthand record, a record of events. However, the latter does not exist at all, and cannot exist; this should not be sought even from weather forecasters. The Fourth Gospel is clearly a narrative “in one’s own words” and “according to one’s own hearing,” with all its personal coloring, which, however, does not interfere with the deep and essential truth of the divinely inspired story. Here (however, again like the weather forecasters in the Sermon on the Mount, parables, speeches) we have not so much a literal record of what Christ said, but artistic and theological creativity, moreover, deeply intimate and individual. Here the burnt-out passion of youth has already become a blessed fiery, the eagle's flight towards the sun does not burn or scorch, but enlightens. But what is striking is the purely artistic depiction of the narrative, the ability to achieve expressiveness with a few words and especially with the power of composition and its contexts. Here only her other master is compared with the fourth evangelist - St. Luke in his highest (narrative achievements), as the story of the harlot wife who anointed the feet of the Savior, (7) of His appearance to the two disciples marching to Emmaus (24). But isn’t the story about the resurrection of Lazarus with the growing excitement of everyone and Christ himself, which reaches strength in two short words “Jesus shed a tear”, containing all the tension of the previous and subsequent narratives, or the appearance of Christ to Magdalene, or the last appearance to the apostles on the Sea of ​​Tiberias (this is the shortest verse in the entire Four Gospels) similar in power of depiction? Another feature of the presentation of the Gospel of the Theologian is not only the theological truths with which it is infinitely saturated, but also the presence of entire theological speeches, in contrast to other gospels, which either did not have this at all, or as a single exception (Matthew 22–25 with parallels). The pinnacle of evangelical theology in this sense is, of course, the farewell conversation of Christ with his disciples (XIII, 31-XVII), this is a miracle among the miracles of the fourth Gospel. It is self-evident that this is not a transcript or even just a recording of what Christ said, at least “in his own words,” but a creative composition, a retelling of Christ’s revelations... But this is done, however, with such inner fidelity that it has the quality of Christ’s own words: “Jesus said.” We hear here the true words of Christ, in all their power captivating the thought and penetrating the heart and at the same time conveyed by the voice and speech of the Evangelist, moreover, more than half a century after their utterance. Such a retelling can only be a matter of artistic inspiration and theological comprehension. The narrator found the appropriate form and rhythm and words for it. The Gospel of John consists of two unequal in size parts: a narrative one, in which the narratives of the weather forecasters are completed in their own way, moreover, almost without repetition, so that they are assumed to be already known and self-evident, and a theological part, in which the truths of the doctrine are set forth from the lips of the Lord himself, usually receiving their starting point in some events of the Savior’s ministry or His miracles. The latter, like “signs,” also have a theological and teaching meaning or receive such an interpretation from the mouth of the Lord. In this sense, we can say that the entire fourth Gospel is theology, expressed either directly or symbolically contained in deeds and events. Needless to say, both in plan and in general content it differs from the Synoptic Gospels and represents, as it were, a different world. This difference is not an opposition, much less a contradiction, which would force one to make a choice through either/or: either the weather forecasters, or the Gospel of the Theologian; on the contrary, it is a mutual completion: both-and, which is completely natural and compatible (except for individual features of the narrative, chronology and topography, which require deliberate efforts for their mutual coordination). The task of this essay does not include an exegetical analysis of the text of the IV Gospel, as well as its content from the historical side. We want only to study the main features of evangelical theology, not in order of sequential presentation, but of the main themes and content. In this regard, it lends itself to being brought into a well-known theological system, and even moreover, it begs for such a presentation due to its doctrinal content. It contains the fullness of the theology of Christian theology, which can be revealed and shown in a systematic presentation. Of course, this is not the completeness characteristic of school theology, which seeks to bring the content of revelation into systematic doctrine. Completeness here refers to the content of revelation. It is this completeness of the dogma of the theological Gospel that we seek to reveal in this short essay. 2. Prologue of the Gospel of John: 1.1–2.6 Its very presence in the fourth Gospel already arouses confusion and disagreement. What is its place in the overall plan of the Gospel, to what extent does it even exist? Isn't this introduction an unnecessary and arbitrary heap of thoughts completely unrelated to the entire narrative? How to understand and justify its very existence? This doubt raised by critical rationalism, however, is completely contradicted by the exceptional assessment given to the Prologue by the Church liturgically: it is revered as the most sacred and significant Gospel text, which is why it is chosen for liturgical reading at the most solemn and joyful liturgical hour: it is precisely this that is the Paschal Gospel, which is read at the liturgy. The Church testifies with this silent liturgical gesture that for her he is the Gospel in the Gospel. 2 Is there a connection between this Prologue and the entire content of the fourth Gospel, as well as the Synoptics? And isn’t he, on the contrary, some kind of Gnostic fragment, strangely attached to him? Of course, such a question cannot arise for us, to which the church has already answered with such force in tradition and in its life, and, to tell the truth, it cannot arise for critical common sense, not poisoned by skepticism and prejudice. We only need, based on the presence of the Prologue in the Gospel, to understand it theologically. And our judgment about the Prologue can only be that it is a miracle among the miracles of the entire theological Gospel. It is equally astonishing and shocking in its brevity and content, for it preliminarily expresses the entire basic content of evangelical theology. He is a kind of divine hieroglyph, a sacred cryptogram that must be revealed theologically. What does this cryptogram say? How can we define it? What name should I give it? It is, of course, in a certain sense the gospel about the Gospel of Christ, and therefore about Christ himself. However, this is not enough to express the fullness of its content, for Christ is “the only one of the Holy Trinity” and therefore the teaching about Him includes the entire fullness of Trinitarian theology. The usual and widespread definition of Prologue, its characteristic title, is calling it logology, the doctrine of Logos. This is also connected with the external impression that its opening verse makes: “in the beginning was the Word (έν άρχῆ ἦν ὁ Λόγος). One is struck first of all by the uniqueness of this name, which is given to Christ precisely in this text, against the background of the entire Four Gospels. 3 Judgments about the origin of this name (through borrowing from Philo or from other sources) represent a favorite, but at the same time completely fruitless plot of exegetical speculation. 4 However, one must free oneself from a certain verbal hypnosis associated with this expression in order to turn to the entire content of the Prologue. From it one can easily be convinced that the main subject of its content is in fact not the Logos at all, or, in any case, not only the Logos, but a whole set of theological ideas, in their organic connection forming, one might say, a kind of theological monolith, including a whole system of theological concepts. How to identify this monolith, what name to call it? Although this naming is directly absent from the text of the Prologue, it alone expresses it in full, as will be revealed from the analysis of its content. This is God-manhood. The Prologue speaks about God in Himself, about the Creator and creation, about God and man in their relationship and about God-manhood, the latter being the true and comprehensive theme of the Gospel revelation: “and the word became flesh.” With this understanding, the entire relevance and expediency of this Prologue becomes clear. All the Gospels are essentially devoted to this topic, and to that extent the Prologue applies to all of them. However, this task of revealing the doctrine of God-manhood is fulfilled by the Gospels in two ways: by the historical narrative of the life of the Savior and by the teaching about Him, and each of the Gospels does this in its own way, with a different combination and distribution of both. The Fourth Gospel, being primarily theological and as such giving special attention specifically to theological teaching, has, as its special introduction, this Prologue on God-manhood. It is also impossible to accept the definition that is given to the content of the Prologue (and subsequently the entire Gospel) as “the theology of the incarnation.” 5 It is certainly insufficient and inaccurate: the incarnation of God is explained in the Prologue only as the revelation of God-manhood in the created world. But this idea itself in its entirety explains the premium, eternal, heavenly God-manhood as the basis of earthly God-manhood. God-manhood relates to the latter as the general to the particular, the basis to the consequence or conclusion. Now we must turn to the disclosure of this complex of theological concepts that are part of the doctrine of God-manhood, as they are given in the Prologue cryptogram, in full, although in stunning brevity. The content of the Prologue includes: sophiology, theology, as the doctrine of the Holy Trinity: the Father, the Word and the Spirit in Their Divinity, cosmology and anthropology, Christology, pneumatology, ecclesiology. Such are its problematics and dogmatics, to the analysis of which we now turn. The first and most amazing word of the Prologue is the revelation of the Beginning, the Wisdom of God. In the beginning - ἐν ἄρχῆ - there was ἦν the Word. The expression ἦν - in contrast to ἐγένετο - speaks of pre-eternal, divine, but not created being, arising in time or at least together with time (which ἐγένετο would speak of). Therefore, in the beginning cannot in any way be understood, although - in a strange way - it is usually understood in exactly this way, in relation to emergence, to time, to the beginning in time. This becomes obvious as soon as the further question is posed: what does it mean at the beginning? What is this very beginning like? The interpreters either do not give any answer at all, or are evasive, obviously not feeling the enormity of the problem contained here. For them, all that remains is the vague and apparently contradictory application of the concept of beginning to eternity - the eternal beginning, which appears here as the theological outcome. But this means silently passing by the question itself, not hearing the very first and fundamental word, which opens the Prologue. Of course, such a course of action indicates more theological impotence or timidity than due attention and fearless responsibility. Of course, it would be easier and simpler for interpreters if the Prologue opened not with the words: “in the beginning was the Word,” but “in the beginning was the Word.” Then it would be possible to evade the question by simply identifying the beginning and the word, to understand the word as the beginning, or the beginning as the word (by analogy with the text of Proverbs Sol. 8:22: “The Lord made me the beginning of His ways”). However, such evasiveness is of no use here, and the need remains for a direct answer to this very question: what can “in the beginning was the Word” mean in relation to the supermundane being, to divine eternity? What does beginning in eternity mean? And there is no doubt that there is no other outcome left here except to understand the beginning in all the power of genuine revelation, that is, ontologically, as a certain beginning in God himself, a deity in which the divine hypostases reveal themselves or are (as is primarily said about the Second of them, about the Word). Thus, we are given here a revelation about the Beginning in God, ἀρχή, in this sense, “archaeology” is divine. But it is sophiology, for the Divine Principle is Sophia, the Wisdom of God, as is clear from a comparison of all other texts related here. The Trinitarian God has a nature (φύσις) or essence (οὐσία) or Divinity - Θεός (without a member, in contrast to the hypostatic ὀ Θεός, with a member, as the Father is most often called). This divine essence of self-revelation, in its content, is Divine Wisdom (in the nature of its divine existence, it is the premium, eternal glory of God, which we will encounter in the theology of the Fourth Gospel). But here, in the very introduction to the Prologue, as the first word of the Gospel to express the same thought, there is another and obviously still synonymous word, namely the beginning - ἀρχή. How should we understand it? The answer to this question is not as simple as it may seem, and this word contains the first and original theological cryptogram of the fourth Gospel. It is the beginning here that can be understood and interpreted in a double sense, and, however, in the final analysis, this duality merges into unity and identity. And, first of all, we must remember that the beginning or at the beginning was not used for the first time by the Evangelist John, but has a very significant commentary on it in the Old Testament. It turns out to be the first not only for the Fourth Gospel, but also for the entire Bible, since it begins with itself the Old Testament, namely the book of Genesis: “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth” (1:1). Of course, here too, first of all, it is necessary to eliminate its chronological interpretation, as a “circumstance of time”, moreover, with any understanding. First of all, the creation of the world “out of nothing,” that is, its very emergence in all its fullness, as “heaven and earth,” cannot be said in time, without thereby attributing temporality to God himself in His self-determination. Therefore, in the beginning should be understood here, of course, ontologically, as the definition of the existence of the world, contained in God himself: bereshit bara - ἐν ἀρχῆ ἐποίησεν ὁ Θεός, the beginning in Himself, from the Divine Beginning, or in the beginning, on the basis of the Beginning, or simply to say, from the Divine God laid His own foundation for the existence of the world. Creation is divine in its positive essence, although it is called to existence from non-existence, from nothing, why such emergence is the very principle of creation. The non-hypostatic Beginning of being correlates with the hypostatic Deity ὁ Θεός. Let us now turn to the interpretation that the beginning of created existence receives in books dedicated to the Wisdom of God. This in many cases has a predicative meaning, expresses a quality or property, but along with this there are also sacred texts in which the Wisdom of God undoubtedly has an ontological meaning, meaning the very being of God, the Divinity, and it is accepted not only in its existential power, but also in its meaningful definition. It is the Wisdom of God that contains the basis for all forms of being, their prototypes. 6 The exact nature of these biblical images cannot be determined and sometimes bears the features of allegorical personification. However, the ontological understanding of Wisdom is not subject to any doubt here. This is, first of all, the hymn of Wisdom in Prov. Sol. 8:22–31, also Job 28, to which are adjacent chapters of non-canonical books of Pres. Sol. 6.12–9.18, Prem. Iis.s. Sire. 1.1–17–24.1–29. The most important thing here is the identification of Wisdom with the Beginning of the ways of God in creation, the sophiological interpretation of this Beginning as a world-creating principle, raised to the very existence of God, to the Divinity: κύριος πρό τοῦ αἰῶνος ἐ The Lord had me as the beginning of His ways before the foundation of the earth (Proverbs Sol. 8:23). (The corresponding chapters of the Great Sol. and the Great Jesus of Sirach have a similar meaning). So, in combining the texts of Genesis 1,1, Wis. Sol. 8:22–31 and John. 1.1 we have a general indication relating both to the Beginning of Divine and created existence, and in each of them it is revealed in its own way, differently. It is in the book of Genesis that the Beginning is addressed to all creation, as the world-creating principle. In the Sixth Day, its effectiveness is revealed as the commanding will of God the Father, who accomplishes it with His Word - may the world be truly good in all forms of its existence. It simultaneously contains, on the one hand, a cryptogram of the Holy Trinity, which has a single beginning or Wisdom as the dual unity of the effective revelation of the Word and the Spirit in creation. However, creatureliness does not refer to the very beginning, which is divine and not created. This same eternal and divine character of Wisdom is also revealed in Prov. Sol. 8:22–31, where it is described as a world that pre-existed in God before his creation: “from the beginning I have been anointed from the beginning, before the existence of the earth (8:23) I was with him an artist, and my joy is for the sons of men” (31), as the beginning of God-manhood in God and the world, Wisdom, which is also the Beginning, as a cosmourgic principle, is addressed here to creation in its meaningful fullness, but not in its relation to the Trinitarian divine existence. God reveals himself here simply in his consubstantiality, as the Creator. However, this does not yet provide an exhaustive answer to the question: what are the distinctive features of John’s revelation about the Beginning? What is this Beginning? And what does it refer to: only to the world, or also to God? When answering this question, the cryptogram of the dual meaning of this original verse, insofar as the Prologue, appears with special, original force. In patristic (though not biblical) writing, the Beginning is applied to the Father's hypostasis, as the first, initial one in the Holy Trinity, 7 but, as we have just indicated, it refers here to the non-hypostatic Deity, Usia or Sophia the Divine. This expression thereby receives a dual interpretation, which, if not opposite, then in; in any case, it is deeply different: in one sense, of course, there is hypostasis, namely the first, the Fatherly, in the second, hypostasis, non-hypostasis. 8 One interpretation or another of the Beginning provides the key to a twofold understanding of the entire context I, 1–3. -In its first interpretation, its meaning is as follows: “in the Beginning, that is, with the Father, there was a (hypostatic, begotten) Word.” Further, the same thought is repeated, only in a different arrangement of words: “And the Word (Filial hypostasis) was with God (the Father - πρὸς τὸν Θεόν - the presence of a member here, as in many similar texts, forces us to attribute this specifically to the Father), “and the Word was God Θεός, without a member - that is, divine, belongs to self-revelation Deities). And this same thought about the Divinity of the Word is expressed even differently in verse 3: “It was in the Beginning with God (again with the member πρὸς τὸν Θεόν). The Father's hypostasis is designated here as the source of self-revelation in God. Thus, the beginning in this case simultaneously designates in one understanding the Father’s hypostasis, in another, the Divinity in which the Son is revealed. Here we should add another thought, subject to further disclosure, namely, that the connective was ἦν should be understood not syntactically, simply as a connection of concepts, but ontologically, as an expression of divine being, power and life. In this sense, it can and even should be applied in relation to the Holy Spirit, the Third Hypostasis, which is the hypostatic between μεταξώ, uniting the Father and the Son. But in this case, She also receives in verses 1 and 2–3 not the same ontological coefficient: it is in the context of verse 1 that next to the hypostatic designation of the Father (Beginning) and the Son (Word) it was ἦν that also designates the hypostasis of Being precisely the Third. On the contrary, in verse 1b, which speaks of the self-revelation of the Father in the Son, was no longer means hypostasis, but the Divine essence of the Holy Spirit, and the general idea here refers either to the dyadic hypostatic revelation of the Father in the Word and the Holy Spirit, or to the Divine Being, the Divinity, which is permeated by the Word, being verbal. The same side of the Trinity dogma is expressed in the second verse: “it (the Word) was in the Beginning with God (the Father τὸν Θεὸν) - but this same text can also be understood sophiologically, as evidence of the self-revelation of the Father in the Divinity in the Beginning, through the word of the Word and the existence of Being, the Spirit. So, if we proceed from the understanding of the Beginning as the First Hypostasis, then both the Word and Being receive a hypostatic meaning, and the entire content of verse 1 a refers to the Holy Trinity, the Trinitarian God, verses 1 b-2 to Divine self-revelation, in application to which the beginning is understood not in the sense of the Father’s hypostasis, but of the single divine nature or essence, Sophia, which, however, is directly taken in relation to the Father’s hypostases: ἐν ἀρχῆ πρὸς τὸν Θεόν – it was in the beginning with God the Father. Although the beginning in this sense, as a single divine essence, belongs to the entire Holy Trinity, consubstantial and indivisible, it is taken here in conjunction with the First, as the beginning of divine self-revelation, hypostasis. In this interpretation, the cryptogram of verses 1–2 of the Prologue acquires a universal theological character. It is precisely this that simultaneously embraces the initial truths of both Trinitarian theology and sophiology, and, however, all these basic concepts, according to the nature of the cryptogram, are veiled, theologically, so to speak, encrypted, although this cipher fully allows for the interpretation given above, or in any case it has a sufficient basis for itself. However, this Trinitarian interpretation of the “beginning” of the Prologue is only one of its two possibilities. Along with it stands another possibility, in its own way no less, and perhaps even more convincing, namely the sophiological interpretation, which proceeds from the understanding of the “beginning” not in the sense of the First Hypostasis, but of the consubstantial nature of God, revealed in Sophia. This comparatively greater persuasiveness of the sophiological interpretation of the “beginning” has for itself the fact that the first interpretation is based only on patristic word usage, while the second - finds for himself very serious, in his own way even decisive, biblical foundations in the entire teaching of the Bible about the Beginning and Wisdom of God. 9 With this biblical understanding of the “beginning,” the entire text takes on a sophiological character, referring not so much to the hypostatic subjects themselves as to their predicates, and only the First Hypostasis retains its significance as the original source of divine self-position or self-revelation. In a sophiological interpretation, text 1.1–2 takes on the following meaning: In the beginning (i.e., Divine Usia, she is also Sophia) there was the Word: The Divine essence contains in its divine self-revelation the dyadic combination of the revelation of the Word and the existential power of the Holy Spirit: The Word here does not mean the hypostasis of the Word, but the word of all the words of the Word, in their plurality, which manifests itself in the divine being, “was,” and this being of the Third Hypostasis is also taken not in Her hypostatic face, but Her effective revelation. “And the Word was with God”: “The Word was” here also does not mean the very hypostases of the Word and the Holy Spirit, but their self-revelation in the Divinity, in the Beginning. It is not a hypostatic, but a Sophian self-revelation of God. This divine predicate, together with the connective, is related to the divine subject, the Divine Primary Subject, the First Hypostasis, to God the Father. The Father is a transcendental hypostasis in the Holy Trinity, which, like the Father, does not have its self-revelation except in other hypostases; this latter reveals precisely Him, it belongs to Him. Therefore, from the side of his essence or “beginning,” the Father as a hypostasis is defined only apophatically. But to her belongs the self-revelation of other hypostases that reveal Him. The Father is a subject or subject, which itself does not have its own predicate, is silent about Himself, but He makes the self-definitions of other hypostases His own. These latter, renouncing themselves, seem to go out or drown in the original hypostasis of the Father, remaining themselves as if only a predicate and an existential connective. 10 Therefore, it is not surprising if in the Prologue, understood sophiologically, the Father is, as it were, the only hypostasis for the entire trinitarian Trinity, with which the other two hypostases are related by their hypostatic quality. - “And God Θεός, without a member - (divinity) was the Word” (16) - in this sense, it is not the hypostatic certainty of divine self-revelation that is expressed: the Word was, but its divinity, the identity of the divine Sophia with the divine nature or essence. This verse therefore has an exclusively sophiological character. Finally, the 2nd verse: “It (i.e., the Word) was in the beginning with God” (πρὸς τὸν Θεόν is, as it were, a summary or repetition of the above and differs only in the order of words and the combination in one phrase of the above in two sentences, namely: “in the beginning was the Word” and “and the Word was with God.” Both here are combined into one: “it (The Word) was in the beginning with God.” The Gospel of John is extremely characterized by repetitions, and he does not refrain from them even with all the lapidary brevity and expressiveness of the Prologue. However, this is even more natural here than in other cases, because in content it relates to the most basic and universal truth of Christian theology: the doctrine of the Holy Trinity in its sophiological revelation. A natural question arises: how should one treat this duality of meaning in the introduction of the Prologue, which is associated with the possibility of a double meaning of the concept “beginning”: which of the two meanings should be preferred? or, if in the absence of sufficiently decisive reasons for a definite choice and preference for one interpretation over another, one has to agree to accept both? But in this case, doesn’t this introduce ambiguity into the text itself, as if discrediting it? However, the latter fear should be set aside as unfounded. The Word of God in certain cases is characterized by a dual meaning - direct or allegorical, concrete or spiritual, and this is especially characteristic of the fourth Gospel with its miracles as “signs”, with its historical narratives as an image of spiritual revelations. Other sacred books do not reach such a height of subject matter, with abstraction and the associated difficulty of presentation, as is characteristic of the prologue. Therefore, it is natural and completely acceptable that individual words and sayings allow for different understandings, unless it contains a contradiction, which is obviously not the case in this case. By choosing two shades of interpretation, one with a more trinitarian emphasis, and the other with a sophiological one, not only both-and, but also either-or, are possible. In the absence of terminological precision and with the possibility of different overflows of theological meaning, it remains possible, although not obligatory, to combine the aspects of the trinitarian and sophiological, as it is given in the text itself. We can only talk about the preference of one or another interpretation of some of its features. It seems to us preferable to accept the predominance of sophiological interpretation, which seems more convenient for carrying out from beginning to end. 3. God and the world. Created Sophia (John 1:3–5) Everything happened through Him, and without Him nothing that happened could have happened. Trinitarian sophiology I, 1–2 refers to the pre-worldliness of God, to God existing in Himself, outside and apart from the relationship to the world. Verse 3 turns us to the created world, which comes into being through its creation. This is expressed in the word έγένετο (in Russian translation “began to be” 11) in contrast to ἦν, (1–2), which expresses non-emerging, but abiding, eternal being. However, here too the attention is focused not so much on the act of creation of the world by God (as in Genesis 1:1: in the Beginning God created), but on the divine, abiding basis of being. Such a basis for creation, as for created Sophia, is divine Sophia, the teaching of which is given above in Art. 1–2. The identity of the divine and created Sophia is established, all from the side of their content of the words of the Word, the sophia of the existence of the divine and created, and together their difference in the image of being is evidenced - eternal, abiding and arising. According to Pr. Sol. 8:21–31, God creates the world, having Wisdom as his artist, the beginning of his ways, and this relationship between the fullness of the existence of the divine and the created is here expressed with lapidary brevity through everything, first in a positive and then in a negative form: “all things began to be through him, and outside of him nothing began to be” (In Genesis 1:1 this “all” is defined as “heaven and earth”, containing the fullness of the divine plan for creation, created Sophia, and this universal principle of creation is revealed in its diversity in the six-day period). And the beginning of created existence is determined in the same way as it was above (1-2) it has already been determined for the Divine existence: through Him (i.e., the Logos, the Word of God in itself and about itself), which has its existence by the fulfilling Holy Spirit. This is the dyadic self-revelation of the Father through the Son and the Spirit in their inseparable duality. But the beginning of the Holy Spirit, expressed in relation to Divine Sophia through ήν, “was”, but in relation to created Sophia is expressed through ἐγένετο, “therefore it was.” This last corresponds to the imperative mood “let it be” - “and it became so” in the Sixth Day, or the psalm: “He commanded and was created” Ps. 148.5; 32.9. Creation - everything that happened - ὅ γέγονεν, which has the dyad of divine self-revelation in the Son and the Holy Spirit as the basis of its existence, is further determined in its being from the inside: it exists by the power of life and light. “In Him was life, and the life was the light of men” (4). The Logos itself is life, which, however, is given by the Father: just as the Father has life in Himself, and gave it to the Son to have in Himself” (5, 26). The quality of this life is its luminosity: Christ says about Himself: “I am the light of the world” (8:12; 9:15). However, with this definition of the Word as light and life, the same question inevitably arises again - about the divine dyad. The Holy Spirit is called by the Church “the giver of life,” “the life-giving,” and, of course, he is also the one who enlightens with grace. From here it should be concluded that both life and light are given not by one hypostasis of the Logos, but in Her union with the Holy Spirit, dyadic. And that duality is expressed here in the same way as above, by a verbal connective, which here has not only a grammatical, but also an ontological meaning, indicating the repose of the Holy Spirit. on the Son in their inseparability, as the existential principle in the Word, the reality of ideality, the implementation of ideological content. Let us note for the future, without stopping here yet, that here a transition from ontology and cosmology to anthropology is already outlined; it is the life principle of Sophia the Divine that is revealed not only objectively, as the power and content of creation, its highest reality, but also subjectively finds a personal carrier for itself in man. Life and light cannot limit their power without reaching a person, without manifesting themselves in him. We have such dogmatic anticipation in a short word: “and life was the light of men” (4). However, here in the Prologue it is only outlined, but this topic is immediately cut off. The presentation returns to the previous question, namely to the explanation of createdness in Art. 5: “And the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness does not overcome it.” What is the meaning of “light” and “darkness” in this connection, both together and in opposition? Is it correct to give them already here the character of spiritual confrontation, as the light and dark principles of life, good and evil, fighting and competing among themselves, Ormuzd and Ahriman, as is usually customary in interpretation? 12 However, in this particular context there is no direct reason for this. Here, in the teaching about the Divine and created Sophia as the nature of creation, the concepts of light and darkness must be freed from the value classification, they should be understood in an ontological meaning, as being and non-being in that combination of them, which is the emerging, created being. In other words, it speaks of “the creation of the world from nothing,” and if any polemical edge is discerned here, it is most likely directed against the pantheistic doctrine of the original existence of the world, which erases the line between the creator and the creation, but identifies them. Here, on the contrary, it is firmly established that in created being we have a connection, but also a distinction between light and darkness, as being and non-being, or “nothing” as the dark underlying basis of the created world. This underlying basis is not abolished by the positive principle of being; on the contrary, it even receives reflected existentiality from it, as the facets of being, its universal relativity. But such reflection does not become originality, abolishing these very edges. Darkness in this sense is not capable of embracing or absorbing light in such a way as to establish indifference, some ontological grayness, in which the Creator would dissolve in the creation, and the latter would assimilate His properties. The world is sophien, in the darkness of non-existence in which it arises, it has the beginning of true light. However, the sophia of the world is not a hypostatic God, although it also represents the beginning of the divine in creation, just as in general Sophia is not a hypostasis in God (not the “fourth” or any kind). Sophia divine in God has divine eternity, she is in this sense the true light, in which there is no darkness. Sophia, created outside the boundaries of the Divine, receives the character of creation precisely through her immersion in nothingness, in the darkness of non-existence. It is through this connection that the created Sophia, the world, arises, “And the light shines in the darkness.” If we allow ourselves the most crude and imprecise comparison, we can say that the radiance of the Divine light is surrounded by darkness, which is powerless to penetrate into it or mix with it, and in this sense to embrace it (κατέλαβεν) since it does not go beyond itself in the creation of the world and thereby becomes, as it were, adjacent to it. This metaphysical, ontological darkness (which is figuratively expressed in Genesis 1, 2: “the earth is invisible and void, and darkness is on the top of the deep”), so to speak, is without quality. However, it is qualified in the concrete existence of the world and at the same time receives various qualifications; it can become not only tohu-va-bohu, but darkness as the beginning of evil, the potential of the negative. However, this applies to the ways of created being, but not to it itself. It itself is destined for the fullness of deification and enlightenment, in order to reveal itself in all its power and glory, although while maintaining its createdness. The latter is still a light shining in the darkness, which accepts this sung and is enlightened by it, preserving its originality. It is darkness, that is, nothingness and origin from nothing, creation, that is the basis of the originality of creation, created eternity, in contrast to the eternity of God. All this is expressed with divine brevity in the brief words of verse 5. (Here the Prologue seems to be interrupted in its own presentation to make way for a non-theological digression about John the Baptist: vv. 6–8, and then 15 in anticipation of the historical part of Chapter I, partly dedicated specifically to his ministry, 19–37. However, here there is a peculiar expression of the main thought of the Prologue, however, not in direct, but negative confirmation of it through opposition: John is sent by God to testify to the light, but he himself without being true light. This digression can be released without damaging the coherence of the presentation. From verse 9 the thought expressed in verse 5 13 is resumed and further developed. Starting from verse 9, sophiology more definitely includes the doctrine not only of the world, but also of man; from cosmology it becomes anthropology (which was already outlined in verse 5) “There was the true light, which enlightens every person who comes into the world.” Here, although still in general, preliminary outlines, the theme of God-manhood appears: about the heavenly man (3.13: “the Son of Man who came down from heaven, who is in heaven”) and about the earthly God-man Christ. Earthly, created man is created in the image of the heavenly Man, the Son of God, the Logos; there is a deliberate relationship between them, along with the one that exists between the Creator (“all things came from him”) and creation. It is man in general and each individual who, upon his “coming into the world,” carries within himself the light from the true source of Light and is enlightened by Him. This does not apply to the salvation of man, but precisely to his existence after creation; this is the truth not only of soteriology, but of general anthropology. This idea about the relationship between Light and lights in people in verses 10–19 receives further development, precisely in application to soteriology, here the attitude towards God of the world that has fallen away from Him is described, which wants, having closed in on itself, to separate from God. The world - κόσμ ο ς - is, of course, the entire creation as a whole, but having its head and focus in man, ἀνθρωποκόσμος. This general idea about the alienation of the world from God is expressed first through the opposition of the relationship that exists between the transparency of the world for light and its resistance to it, such is the tragedy of world existence, the fatal struggle and division in it: “it was in the world” as its eternal basis, in the Divine Sophia, and “the world through it began to be” (ἐγένετο), like created Sophia” (10). However, this unity of basis does not eliminate separation and confrontation, primarily in knowledge: “the world did not know him - ούκ ἔγνω.” This lack of knowledge must be understood not in the abstractness of theoretical ignorance, but in the vital, concrete lack of recognition of Christ, the Light of the world (cf. 12; 9:5). This is further revealed Christologically, in brief words that express the very essence of the world’s rejection of Christ with its constant confrontation, to which the entire Gospel of John is devoted, as well as other evangelists, although the latter are not as obvious and persistent as here. “He came to his region - τά ἴδια, and his own did not receive Him.” Here we can understand the rejection of Christ, who “came” into the world, both as a general struggle against Christ, which finds its completion in anti-Christianity and personal antichrists (I John 2:18), and in the narrow sense of the rejection of Him by “their own,” i.e., the chosen Jewish people, in the person of their leaders, who incurred responsibility for the blood of Christ and His death on the cross. However, this thought is immediately limited and clarified by the introduced distinction between those who accepted Christ and those who did not accept Him. The world did not turn out to be hopelessly deaf to the message of Christ; on the contrary, He found in it those who accepted Him, and they in Art. 12–13 are defined more precisely and closely, in soteriological terms: “to those who received Him, to those who believe in His Name, I will give the power to become children of God, who were born not of the lust of the flesh, nor of the lust of a man, but of God” (12–13). This soteriological cryptogram contains the thought of the grace-filled birth from God by the Holy Spirit, of the adoption of people by God in Christ, which is the work of Christ and the final goal of the creation of the world and man for the sake of the deification of the latter. However, it also includes one more cryptogram, namely an onomatological one: “to those who believe in His Name.” Here, as a self-evident truth, the power and essence of the Name of God is expressed, as a special object of faith, its intention. In other cases, the expression “In His Name” (2–23), “in the Name of the Only Begotten Son of God” (3–18), “in the Name of the Son of God” (I John 5:13) in John. is used in meaning as a pleonasm and simply means “into Him,” “into the Son of God.” However, such a simplification is hardly applicable in Prologue, 1.13: “to those who believe in His Name” (- God). God reveals himself in His Name. In the Old Testament this is the name Yahweh, in the New Testament it is the name Jesus. In this sense, the Fourth Gospel defines its final summary and content as follows: “These are written so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and by believing you may have life in His Name” (20:31). Here, faith in the Name of Christ, from being contemplative and theoretical, becomes the power of life. The most characteristic expression, which is not usual for texts of similar content, is ἐν ὀνόματι μου, which is equivalent: life in Christ himself. 14 Without dwelling further on the theology of the Name of God, 15 we cannot silently pass by this amazing cryptogram, which contains the mystery of the Name. The evangelist, for his direct purpose of expressing the thought of theology, could, of course, freely dispense with the general expression, saying simply: “to those who believe in Him.” If here he places the attentive and reverent reader before a new, albeit incidentally expressed revelation, he should be given appropriate attention and interpretation. We must remember that the fourth Gospel, like all other holy books of the Bible, although each in its own way, is included in a certain whole of the Bible, in its context, which is used differently in different cases. The context in this case is primarily the Old Testament teaching about the Name of God in connection with the general teaching about names. It should also be noted the sophiological significance of onomatology as the study of names; the naming name reveals the hypostatic God in His self-revelation and revelation. It is a predicate that has for itself a hypostatic subject, to which it is then attached by an existential connective. The name contains the seal of dual unity, the dyadic union of the Word and the Holy Spirit, revealing the Father. To this extent, the name, although it belongs to God, as a trinitarian hypostasis in triplicity and division, it itself is not a hypostasis, not hypostatic, but only belongs to it. It is the essence, the nature of God, and in general it is, and not just a name, a sound, a nickname and a code. The name is Divinity, which is why the expression “to those who believe in the Name of God” is quite appropriate and not contradictory. One can equally say: for those who believe in God, with intention directed towards the hypostasis, and in the name of God, or simply in the Divinity, in God’s power and Wisdom, or in the combination of both - faith in the hypostatic Divinity. So, not only does the world, in its falling away, separate from God and resist Him, but also in itself, precisely in humanity, this confrontation and division takes place. The contrast between God and the world, outlined in the Prologue, is one of the deliberate themes of the Fourth Gospel; it is repeated many times throughout its entire length, both in the mouth of the Lord and the Evangelist himself: “you are from below, I am from above: you are from this world, I am not from this world” (8:23) (Cf. 7:7; 9:39; 12:31; 14:27-30; 15,18–19; 16:11,20,28–33; 17:9,14,18,36). But all this opposition of the world to God and separation from Him does not prevent the fact that God himself proceeds from His pre-created and extra-created Sabbath in order to unite with the world, to become human. This truth about God’s love for His creation is proclaimed by the solemn saying of the son of Gromov, in which it is proclaimed like heavenly thunder, “and the Word became flesh.” In this Gospel of the Incarnation, the entire Four Gospels are expressed in three words, for what else does it all tell about if not this most holy hieroglyph: “and the Word became flesh - καὶ ὁ Λόγος σάρξ ἐγένετο” (14). Here cosmology and anthropology turn into Christology and merge with it. The truth of the incarnation as a union of two natures, divine and created, human with a single divine hypostasis of the Logos - the dogma of the Chaldidonian definition is proclaimed here as a guiding star for all Christian dogma. The word σάρξ is broader than σῶμα in meaning, since it expresses the beginning of created being in general, as such, corporeality in general, while σῶμα would give it in this case an undesirable specificity of meaning, namely as organized flesh, a body (of course, “flesh” here is free from any shade of odiousness inherent in Gen. 6:3 and even John. 1.13). The word εγένετο, in contrast to ἦν, expresses the event of created life, in this sense the emergence in time, which corresponds to the formula of the Nicene symbol: “descended from heaven and became incarnate from the Holy Spirit and the Virgin Mary.” The weather forecasters do not have this formula for the ensarkosis of the Logos: ὁ Λόγος σάρξ ἐγένετο. What corresponds to this is described by them as the historical event of seedless conception through the Annunciation and the Nativity of Christ from the Virgin: Matt. 1–2; OK. 1.26–2, 1–39 (Mr. also lacks this, although it goes without saying). John, of course, tacitly implies everything reported by the weather forecasters, but this is expressed by a dogmatic formula that defines the metaphysical side, the ontology of the event of R.H. Both what is silent and what is said here clearly expresses precisely the theological character of the Gospel of the Theologian, revealing precisely the theological style of his narration. However, it can be perceived in its entirety on the condition that it tacitly assumes that the entire synoptic narrative, to which theological gloss is given here, is also known. But it becomes meager and abstract without this condition and, on the contrary, shines with all its brilliance when it is present. Having testified to the dogmatic truth of the Incarnation, the fourth evangelist hastens to apply it to the understanding of the earthly life of the incarnate Word, the Lord Jesus Christ, to the description of which the Synoptic Gospels are devoted. But he again does this in a way characteristic of him alone, not through history, but through its, so to speak, philosophy, and, moreover, with the cryptogrammatic brevity generally characteristic of the Prologue. This is expressed in only two words: “and dwelt with us,” that is, shared our life, with its sorrows and worries, its sufferings and joys, in general lived a human life, except for sin and everything connected with it and stemming from it. However, this would not be enough and could be misleading if the Evangelist interpreted the truth of the Lord’s incarnation only in the direction of a free kenotic acceptance of limitations, without demonstrating the power of glorification. Therefore he immediately adds: “and they saw His glory as the only begotten of the Father.” Through glory a completely new theme is introduced, by which Christology again merges with sophiology. For glory - shekinah - δόξα is an essentially sophiological concept, which cannot even be perceived otherwise. The glorification of glory in the Holy Trinity is accomplished by the Holy Spirit; He is the hypostatic glory, as well as the fullness of Her Self-Revelation. The Father comes upon the Son with the Holy Spirit, as triumphant love, which otherwise would only have the sacrificial self-denying character of the mutually sacrificial love of the Father and the Son. This is the relationship between the hypostases in the eternal life of the Holy Trinity. But it is also similar in the incarnation of God, in the self-revelation of God in the world and in man. The incarnation of the Logos, sent by the Father into the world for its salvation, leads Him through earthly cross-bearing and to the passion of the cross. The Father gives His Only Begotten Son for the salvation of the world, and the Son is given to the end through exhaustion and death on the cross. Through this, the glorification of the Son from the Father by the Holy Spirit takes place in His Resurrection and Ascension, and it is preceded on earth in the Epiphany and Transfiguration. However, this is what must be established here: there is not only the glorifying and glorified hypostases of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, but along with the hypostases that take part in the glorification, there is also the hypostatic Glory itself, by which the hypostases are hypostatically glorified. This glory, as divine life and self-revelation, is also the divine Sophia, the Divinity itself, not only in its divine foundation and its root, but also in its manifestation in God. She is God's own glory in Himself and about Himself, divine joy about Himself. But this joy in creation, as in the revelation of the Divine Sophia in the created, or the prototype in the image, is “about the sons of men” (according to the testimony of the All-Wise: Proverbs Sol. 8:31), that is, about the God-Man, as the New Adam, restoring and renewing the Old Adam. It is about the humanity of Christ, revealed in His divine Glory (the sophiological application of the Chalcedonian dogma). In a word, there is not only the Glorifier, the Glorified and the Glorifying, but also Glory in itself, not only as the divine, but also the divine-created God-manhood. In the limit, the latter embraces all humanity, the whole world and creation, which was said on the eve of the passion of Christ in anticipation of its already accomplished power: “now is the Son of Man glorified, and God (the Father) is glorified (through the Holy Spirit) in Him (13:31). And this glory is not just a subjective assessment or state, but objective reality itself, ens realissimum, which becomes accessible, “visible” to us: “we have seen His glory, glory as the only begotten from the Father, full of grace and truth” (I, 4). “Saw” - ἐθεασάμεθα means not only spiritual vision, but also contemplation with earthly, created eyes (this is the usage of the New Testament, in particular John 16). Sophia, as Glory, is not only ideality, but also a concrete reality, becoming accessible to man through the God-man, as “God’s power and God’s wisdom” (1 Cor. 1:24). Again, here too the Evangelist, true to his mode of narration, implies what was told not only by the weather forecasters, but throughout the New Testament, as well as in the Old Testament. in the manifestations of the Glory of God (Exodus, Ezekiel (3rd C.), as well as about the glorification of Christ (in the Transfiguration). But at the same time he also gives a dogmatic interpretation and establishes a connection between our created world and the incarnation and glorification - the transformation of the world and man. And this latter presupposes the fullness of man’s grace-filled participation in God, bestowed upon him by the Holy Spirit through the incarnation of the Word. This fullness, as a condition for the deification of the creature, is evidenced in the words: “full of grace and truth” (14). In a certain sense, we can say that Pentecost is already implied here, as the descent into the world of the Spirit of Truth itself, bringing the gifts of His grace. Here follows the second parathesis about the Baptist as a witness of Christ: v. 15. After the parenthesis, the grace of the appearance of Christ is once again spoken of, and this time rather in an ecclesiological sense. Sophiology here turns into ecclesiology, and a cryptogram about the Church follows, contained in the following words: “from His fullness we have all received, and grace upon grace” (16) The fullness - πλήρωμα - of Christ is His church (as it is said in Eph. 1:22-3): “He set Him above all things, as the head of the Church, which is His body, the fullness of Him filling all in all.” The Church, as the fullness of the gifts of the Holy Spirit, receives their vital multiplication: “grace upon grace.” The cryptogram about the Church here, with the usual lapidary brevity, includes its historical accomplishment, in the Old Testament, based on the law given through Moses, and the New, which we have as grace and truth, which came through Jesus Christ. “For the law was given through Moses, but grace and truth came - ἐγένετο - through Jesus Christ” (17). Grace “through Jesus Christ” is given by the Holy Spirit, sent through Him at Pentecost, to found the New Testament Church. This exhausts the universal theology of the Prologue. His entire path has been covered: the teaching about God, the existence of the Holy Trinity, about Sophia - the beginning of the Divine and created, about the world and man, about the revelation of God in the world, about the incarnation of God, about salvation, about the Church. All this closes together, like a majestic arch, theological generalization of verse 18, 17, containing the antinomy of negative and positive theology: “No one has ever seen God (apophatics), the only begotten Son (an option more accepted in manuscripts: God - Θεός), existing in the bosom of the Father, He revealed ἐξηγήσατο (cataphatic). Cataphatic, positive revelation, the theophany of Christ, presupposes apophatic, the transcendental mystery of the revealed Divinity. The Son, who resides in the bosom of the Father, in the transcendence of the Father, is immanent in the creation, revealing Him to him, according to what was said above. This dogmatic chord ends the theological rhapsody of the Prologue, this miracle of miracles of the Fourth Gospel. The Fourth Gospel, of course, is not a theological treatise that systematically expounds Christian theology and in this sense resembles in any way theological manuals or studies. It is precisely the Gospel, that is, first of all, a narrative about the earthly life of the Lord, and in this task it does not differ from the other Gospels, despite all its differences from them. The evangelist (or a later commentator) himself testifies to such a purely narrative task, although he immediately points out its incompleteness: “Jesus did many other miracles before his disciples, which are not written in this book” (John 20:30), “Jesus did many other things, but if they were to write about them in detail, then, I think, the world itself could not contain the books that were written” (21:25). Of course, such a purely narrative task does not exclude, but on the contrary, it even includes and presupposes another, higher one: “These are written so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and by believing you may have life in His Name” (20:31). However, a similar task, namely preaching about Christ, is characteristic of all other Gospels, even starting with Markov: “the beginning of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.” This is how the Evangelist Mark himself begins (1:1) and thus defines the nature of his narrative. The First Gospel of Matthew begins in a similar way (1:1): “the genealogy of Jesus Christ, the Son of David, the Son of Abraham.” “The birth of Jesus Christ was like this” (18). All of it is a book about Christ, that is, about the God-man, the Savior of the world. And so it ends with His appeal to the disciples: “teach all nations” (28:19), “baptizing and enlightening them.” This is, finally, the task of the Third Gospel of Luke: “after careful examination of all things, first, in order, to describe to you... so that you may know the firm basis of the doctrine in which you have been instructed” (1:1,2). So, the common task of all the Gospels is to instill faith in Him and His mission by narrating the life of the Lord, giving His image. But in doing so, it already crosses the boundaries of history, entering the realm of doctrine. And all the Gospels in this sense theologize about Christ, each in its own way. However, the Fourth Gospel in this respect still differs from all others, since it devotes more space to the teaching of Christ and about Christ than the latter. It precisely theologizes about Him, moreover, more through direct teaching than through the narrative already contained in the other Gospels. This is where its main property comes from: relatively greater completeness in presentation and broader coverage of theological subjects. And this general task is also answered by the choice of narrative material, the special contribution of the Fourth Gospel with the inclusion of some events that are absent from other Evangelists, and the exclusion of others, the introduction of extensive conversations and speeches, in general, a clearly theological tendency in the entire choice of material. This, in particular, is the nature of miracles - “signs” (7 in total), which are all either direct theological symbols, or give rise to such an interpretation of them: the same are the meetings and conversations of Christ, seemingly random and insignificant as events, but extremely important in spiritual content; finally, these are also the direct speeches of the Lord, with reason and even without reason, the pinnacle of which is, of course, His farewell conversation with his disciples. All this makes others see in the Fourth Gospel and in general more doctrine than the Gospel, turning it into a kind of theological allegory or symbolism. This, of course, is incorrect and is by no means justified by the mere quantitative predominance of teaching over storytelling. But most of all, what does not allow us to equate the Fourth Gospel with theological doctrine in its abstractness is that the teaching set forth here is, after all, the self-testimony of Christ himself about His life and ministry, it is precisely the Gospel of Christ about Himself, which, however, thereby becomes theology. The testimony of Christ as the Son of the Living God is given here not so much in external deeds and events, but in their internal self-disclosure. It is not by force of things that it contains the teaching, which is now for us a dogma of faith, and is included in dogmatics. This is what makes it natural and possible to present the doctrinal content of the Fourth Gospel precisely as a set of dogmas, although, of course, incomplete. However, as can be easily seen through comparison, it differs from the other Gospels in this respect in its comparative completeness. A number of the primary theological themes and teachings present here are simply absent from the weather forecasters. This, of course, does not mean that there is any internal contradiction or disagreement here; on the contrary, one confirms and reveals the other. But at the same time, one common feature characteristic of the Fourth Gospel is reflected: it does not repeat, but presupposes what is already known and taken for granted among the weather forecasters, and includes it in its dogmatic context. At the same time, it definitely complements their content, or presents it in its own way. In any case, all of the above applies entirely to the first chapters, as well as to 20, as well as to the epilogue, ch. 21. Of particular note is the narrative of the passion, where the evangelist also becomes the narrator, although, of course, while maintaining his own style. This applies to chapters 18, 19. Here we need a special comparative study and comparison with weather forecasters, which is usually done. However, this is not our task. Regarding the style of John's Gospel 18, one should note as a striking feature the numerous repetitions of the most important thoughts, in different texts, often with the same words. This may even give the impression of a certain verbosity, perhaps characteristic of old age. However, these repetitions have their own internal and external rhythms, and in addition, they achieve a special power of expressiveness in relation to the most important thoughts, especially dear to the sacred writer. This teaching is generally poorly expressed among weather forecasters. Of course, it is also characteristic of them, as a common basis for the teaching about Christ as the Son of God, sent from the Father and anointed by the Holy Spirit. Outside of this, the main gospel sermon is simply incomprehensible and does not exist. In any case, the doctrine of the Father, which includes theology, is the most fundamental truth in the Synoptic Gospels. The teaching about the Holy Spirit is not absent here, as applied to such events as baptism, the sending of the Holy Spirit, and finally even direct Trinitarian formulas in Matt. 28:19. It can be said that the Synoptics have a whole series of narratives or sayings that cannot be understood otherwise than in the context of Trinitarian dogma. And yet we still have to say that its very disclosure is missing here, both in relation to individual Hypostases and in their relationship. And first of all, this refers to the relationship between the Father and the Son, in which the Father is defined through the Son, and the Son through the Father, as His hypostatic image and self-revelation. 19 The main character of the relationship between the Father and the Son among the Synoptics is that the Father, the transcendental highest Hypostasis, commands the Son. Sends him. All power belongs to Him, even if it is given to the Son, for whom He is not only the Father, but also God. This determines His relationship to the world, and to the Son himself, as well as to the Holy Spirit. We read Matthew about the providential will of the Father. 10:29: “Are not two small birds sold for an assarium? And not one of them will fall to the ground without the will of the Heavenly Father." In 18:10: “See that you do not despise one of these little ones: for I say to you, that their angels in heaven always see the face of my Father who is in heaven.” “It is not the will of your Father who is in heaven that one of these little ones should perish” (14). The Father prepares places in the Kingdom of God: “to give to sit at My right hand and on my left, not from Me (depends), but to whom My Father has prepared” (20:23), and even at the Last Judgment Christ the Judge says: “Come, you blessed of My Father, inherit the Kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world” (25:34). The Son also turns to the Father with the prayer: “My Father! If it is possible, let this cup pass from Me, however, not as I will, but as You will” (26:39). “My Father, if this cup cannot pass from Me, lest I drink it, Thy will be done” (43). “Abba Father! all things are possible for You, pass this cup past Me, but not what I want, but what You want” (Mark 14:36). “Father! Oh, that You would bless me to carry this cup past Me; however, not My will, but Yours, be done” (Luke 22:42). “Or do you think that I cannot now ask My Father, and He will present Me with more than twelve legions of angels” (53). The Father is “the one who sent” the Son (Mark 9:37), and the church of God is the place belonging to the Father” (Luke 2:49). The dying prayer cry of the Son is addressed to Him from the cross: “Or! Or! Lama Savakhthani? that is: My God, My God! why did you leave me? (Matthew 27:46, Mark 15:34) and as a prayer for forgiveness of His persecutors: “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing” (Luke 23:34). Finally, Christ’s last word is addressed to the Father: “Father, into Your hands I commend My spirit” (23:46). From the comparison of these texts, the hierarchical relationship between the Father and the Son is determined in the sense that the Father commands, sending the Son, who obediently heeds this command. And Christ turns to Him in prayer as Father and God. This is the basic nature of their relationship. About the Father it is said: “The Heavenly Father will give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him” (Luke 11:13), “Your Father has been pleased to give you the Kingdom” (12:32). Of course, along with this transcendence of the Father, other texts testify that the Son reveals the Father to the world, reveals Himself: “Whoever confesses Me before men, I will also confess him before My Father in heaven, and whoever denies Me before men, I also will deny before My Father who is in heaven” (Matthew 10:33), and in particular this includes the solemn word of Christ: “I glorify You, Lord heaven and earth... everything was handed over to me by my Father, and no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son, and to whom the Son wants to reveal it” (Matthew 11:25; 27), as well as the Father’s testimony to the world about the Son: “and a voice came from heaven: You are my beloved son, in whom I am well pleased” (Mark 1:11). Here we can say that the main theme of Johannine theology about the revelation of the Father in the Son is already anticipated, although only in preliminary outlines, rather just as a theme. For the weather forecasters, the Father is not only and not so much the Father specifically for the Son, but your heavenly Father, to whom we pray: “Our Father!” In the Fourth Gospel, in connection with its general Trinitarian theology, the relationship between the Father and the Son is revealed entirely on the basis of the mutual transparency and identity of paternal and filial existence and self-revelation, however, with the difference in their hypostatic centers, and this dyadic self-revelation is also completed triadically through the Spirit of the Comforter, who does not proclaim his own, but “he will take from Mine,” but “all that the Father has, he is Mine” (John 16:15). Being a revelation of the Father, the Son is also the truth about Him, moreover, not only its revelation, but also the hypostatic Truth itself. We have in John a number of texts with a double meaning. Some of them relate to the revelation of truth, these include the following: “The Word... dwelt among us, full of grace and truth (Prologue, 1. 14), “Grace and truth came through Jesus Christ” (ibid., 17). It was said to the Jews who believed Him: “You will know the truth, and the truth will make you free” (8:32), “now you seek to kill Me, the Man who told you the truth” (40), “I speak the truth and you do not believe Me” (45, 46). Finally, this also includes what was said in the Nervopriestly Prayer: “Sanctify them by Thy truth, Thy word is truth” (17:17-19). The Lord also speaks about Himself during the Feast of Tabernacles: “Whoever seeks the glory of Him who sent Him is true, and there is no unrighteousness in Him” (7:18), the same says to the Pharisees: “My testimony is true, because I know where I came from and where I am going” (8.14). This also includes Christ’s self-testimony of Himself before Pilate, preserved only in the Fourth Gospel, where service to the truth is revealed as the Kingdom, although “not from here” (18:36). “Pilate said to Him: So, are You a King? Jesus answered: You say that I am a King. For this reason I was born and for this reason I came into the world, to testify to the truth: everyone who is of the truth listens to My voice. Pilate said to Him, “What is truth?” (37, 38), On the other hand, in other texts Christ calls himself the truth (as well as the Holy Spirit, the Spirit of truth) (16:13). The main thing here is His word in the farewell conversation (14:6): “I am the way, and the truth, and the life.” This immanentism of the Father and the Son and the mutually hypostatic “We” (John 14:28), in which the separately personal “I” and the Father are one (10:30), so that “the Father in Me and I in Him” (38), is revealed in the words of the Lord himself, in His theological speeches from different sides and on different occasions, with repetitions generally characteristic of the Fourth Gospel, along with its characteristic verbose rhythms. We do not set ourselves the task of following its presentation one by one, verse by verse; for our purpose, comparisons of texts with the same meaning are sufficient. “The Father loves the Son, and has given all things into His hand” (3:35), “He whom God has sent speaks the Words of God” (34), “He who comes from heaven is above all, and what He has seen and heard, he bears witness to” (32). This is what the Lord’s witness, the Forerunner, says, or more likely, the Evangelist himself, certifying the entire authenticity and completeness of the Son’s revelation about the Father. In the speech of chapter 5 (after healing the paralytic), Christ teaches this about His life and His works: “My Father works hitherto, and I work” (17). The Jews sought to kill Him because He “not only violated the Sabbath, but also called God His Father, making Himself equal to God” (18). “Therefore Jesus said,” - not essentially rejecting, but rather confirming this, “The Son can do nothing of Himself, unless He sees the Father doing, for what He does, the Son also does. For the Father loves the Son and will show Him everything that He Himself does, and will show Him greater works than these” (19-20). “I cannot create anything of Myself” (30). In the speech of chapter 8, Jesus again confirms His complete unity with the Father in action: “I do nothing of Myself, but as My Father taught Me, so I speak. He who sent Me is with Me, the Father has not left Me alone, for I always do what pleases Him.” (28, 29). “I came from God and came, for I always do what pleases Him” (29). “I came from God and came, for I did not come of Myself, but He sent Me” (42). In his speech about the shepherd and the sheep (chap. 10), Jesus again speaks of His works as a revelation of the Father in Him: “the works that I do in the name of My Father, they testify of Me” (25). “If I do not the works of My Father, do not believe Me. And if I do, then if you do not believe Me, believe My works, so that you may know and believe that the Father is in Me and I in Him” (10:37, 38). In the speech of Ch. 12 Jesus says: “Whoever believes in Me does not believe in Me, but in Him who sent Me, and whoever sees Me sees Him who sent Me” (44, 45). This self-identification of Himself with the Father in thoughts, will and deeds is revealed with consistency in Christ’s farewell conversation. “No one comes to the Father except through Me. If you knew Me, you would also know My Father, and from now on you know Him and have seen Him” (14:7). “I am in the Father and the Father is in Me. The words that I speak to you, I do not speak from Myself: the Father who abides in Me, He does the works. Believe Me that I am in the Father, and the Father in Me (14:10, 11). “I am in My Father” (20), “he who does not love Me does not keep My words: but the word that you hear is not Mine, but the Father’s who sent Me” (24). “I have told you everything that I heard from My Father” (John 15:15). Finally, we have the most solemn proclamation of the revelation of the Father in the Son and their mutual identification in this sense in the high priestly prayer, which solemnly concludes the farewell conversation (chapter 17). “I have revealed Your name to the people whom You gave Me out of the world (6)... everything that You have given Me is from You” (7)... and everything that is Mine is Yours, and Yours is Mine” (10). “That they may all be one, just as You, Father, are in Me, and I in You... I in them and You in Me” (21, 23). “Righteous Father! and the world has not known You, and I have known You, and these have known that You sent Me” (25). All this theology of the equal divinity of the trinitarian hypostases, in particular the Father and the Son and Their identification in the Divinity, which is the divine consubstantiality, must, however, be perceived in the light of the triple hierarchy of hypostases, namely the primacy of the First Hypostasis in the Holy Trinity. Only a few words are said about this in the theology of the Fourth Gospel, but its importance and weight are absolutely unique. This is the essence of the words: “If you loved Me, you would rejoice because I said: “I go to the Father, for My Father is greater than I,” O Pater meizon mou estin (14:28). This meizon was subjected to various theological misinterpretations in the spirit of subordinationism, of course, in clear contradiction precisely with the declaration of divine consubstantiality and identification between the Father and the Son, which is characteristic of the entire theology of the Fourth Gospel. Boliy does not mean the greater divinity of the Father in contrast to the lesser divinity of the Son, for with all insistence it speaks of the unity and mutuality, mutual transparency of the Father and the Son. Boliy refers to the Father's hypostasis precisely as revealed in the Son - and the Holy Spirit, the hypostases that reveal it. This is a “majority” or a hypostatic-hierarchical primacy, but not a natural-divine one. All this theology, namely the theology of the speech of the Fourth Gospel, and especially its focus, the farewell conversation, is completely absent from the weather forecasters. This, of course, does not mean that this was a disagreement between them and John, for difference is not always disagreement. On the contrary, what is contained in the Synoptics as a teaching about the Face of the Lord receives its completion and is brought to an end in the Fourth Gospel in the context of Trinitarian theology. In the Trinitarian teaching of the Fourth Gospel, special emphasis should be placed on the teaching about the Comforter - characteristic, in addition to the Gospel, also in the Epistles of John. It is quite natural that the deliberately spiritual, pneumatic Gospel contains a special teaching about the Holy Spirit. Here one involuntarily comes to the thought that this revelation about the Comforter Spirit was received by the Evangelist not only from Christ, but also from the Spirit-Bearer, who Herself is the Consolation and Glory of the human race and therefore all generations please Her. The naming of the Comforter itself contains this personal connotation of the special warmth characteristic of John, as Her son by adoption and as the apostle of love. It is also natural that the teaching about the Comforter is included in the farewell conversation, which is all spiritual consolation. We must also not forget that John’s teaching about the Comforter is the theology of Pentecost, it presupposes it, just as the entire New Testament in general is a context for it. The entire teaching about the Spirit is perceived in its fullness. 20 The Comforter is depicted as “another Comforter” sent from the Father (14:16, 17), “in My Name, who will teach you all things and bring to your remembrance all things” spoken by Christ (14:26). “The Spirit of truth proceeding from the Father” (15:26) is sent by the Father after the Son (16:7, 13). He is the Spirit who “descends from heaven like a dove (1.32) and abides on Him.” “He is the one who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.” (33). Along with the explicit revelation about the Holy Spirit, there is a hidden, or more precisely, merged revelation about Him as part of the doctrine of the Holy Trinity and the divine “We”. First of all, in 3:11~ We refer directly to the dual unity of the revealing hypostases. The Lord says to Nicodemus: “We speak of what we know and what we have seen, but you do not accept our testimony,” but above it speaks of being born of the Spirit: (3:6, 8). The other is We: “Whoever loves Me keeps My word, and My Father will love Him, and We will come to him and make an abode with Him” (14:23), although in the immediate context it refers to the Father and the Son, but necessarily includes the Spirit, which is the very presence in the “abode, its creation.” This is the hidden understanding of the Holy Spirit. is also implied in other places in the farewell conversation (as earlier in the Prologue), where the connection between the First and Second Hypostases is spoken of. The Holy Spirit is also the image of glorification: “He will glorify Me” (16:14). He is precisely here this And, or With, or In: “The Father is with Me” (16:32), “I and the Father are one,” “that they may all be one, as You, Father, are in Me, and I in You” (17:21). The doctrine of the hypostatic Comforter is introduced in the Fourth Gospel, so to speak, into a Trinitarian context. First, the doctrine of the Holy Trinity is presented here primarily dyadic, as the revelation of the Father in the Son and through the Son, and then it is completed through the revelation of the First and Second Hypostases in the Third, in the Comforter. It is about the Holy Spirit that Christ speaks in his farewell conversation: “When He, the Spirit of Truth, comes, He will guide you into all truth, for He will not speak from Himself, but He will speak what He hears, and He will tell you what is to come. He will glorify Me, because He will take from Mine and proclaim it to you. Everything that the Father has is Mine, therefore I said that he will take of Mine and tell it to you” (16:13, 15). Here is a threefold revelation of the Divinity: the Father in the Son, and the Son in the Spirit: the Father’s is Mine for the Son, and the Son’s “Mine” is given to the Holy Spirit, in the trinity of Divine self-revelation. Special mention is made of the Holy Spirit in relation to the baptism of Jesus (1:32, 33) of the baptized, who is also the one who baptizes with the Holy Spirit. The Lord also speaks about baptism from water and the “Spirit”, as well as about “being born of the Spirit” (3.5, 6) in a conversation with Nicodemus. The Fourth Evangelist already has before him the entire narrative of the weather forecasters about Christ, starting from the Annunciation and His Nativity and ending with death on the cross and resurrection. John therefore does not repeat, but supplements them. In particular, he completely lacks the Annunciation and the Nativity of Christ, along with His genealogy. All this is replaced by a “prologue in the sky” and only a dogmatic explanation of the incarnation of God, assuming a self-evident synoptic narrative about earthly, historical events. But he does have a theology of atonement. It is contained in brief words already in the first naming of Christ as the Lamb of God, put into the mouth of the Forerunner (1:29-35), but more extensively in the entire teaching of Christ about Himself, as it is set out in speeches and conversations found in the Fourth Gospel. Here, first of all, we should note two remarkable meetings, accompanied by a conversation with Christ, which are found only in John and are completely absent from the weather forecasters. This is precisely the conversation with Nicodemus and with the Samaritan woman, chapters 3, 4, both of paramount importance precisely in their dogmatic content. In a conversation with Nicodemus, the Lord, speaking with him about “heavenly” (3.12), reveals the divine mystery of His descent from heaven and ascension into it: “no one ascended into heaven except the Son of Man who came down from heaven, who is in heaven” (13). In the same chapter he is also called the Forerunner “coming from heaven,” who is “above all” (31). The same thought is expressed in a different context in the Eucharistic conversation: “What if you see the Son of Man ascending to where He was before?” (6:62). And finally, this same thought is summarized by the Evangelist in his own testimony about Jesus: “Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into His hands, and that He came from God and is going to God” (13.3). Of course, to God here means: to the Father. This self-testimony is repeated by Christ in the first person, when the Lord Himself says in a farewell conversation: “I go to My Father” (14:12). The dogmatic truth proclaimed in the Nicene Creed: “who came down from heaven” thus receives an authentic basis in this self-testimony of Christ. It, as we already know, is contained in the Prologue, as expressed in the third person by the Evangelist himself. But here it is the self-testimony of Christ. At the same time, this testimony of the descent from heaven of the “Son of Man” is also characteristic. “Son of Man” is the most commonly used designation for the Messiah both among the Synoptics and John, and it receives different shades of meaning: eschatological, messianic and soteriological, etc. 21 In general, it is comprehensive in its meaning in the Gospel application to Christ in the general context of the doctrine of the incarnation, in all its power and consequences. However, in this case, this combination of both thoughts about the descent from heaven of the Son of Man receives special anthropological significance. It is obviously connected with the teaching about man as the image of God, as well as vice versa, about the Son of God as the Eternal Man, and in this sense the Son of Man. This thought applies in general to God-manhood - super-created, but at the same time created. Let us note in passing that this once again refutes the idea of ​​Roman and Romanizing theology that the Incarnation occurred on the occasion of the “beata Adamae culpa,” the Fall of Adam, but was not already inscribed in heaven in connection with the eternal Humanity of the Son of God. Christ is the Son of Man not only by the power of His incarnation, but He also descends from heaven to men as a Heavenly Man. "Son of Man". Therefore, His incarnation or incarnation, strictly speaking, is not a new event for Him, some kind of earthly accomplishment, as if an accident, but pre-established,” more precisely, already established in eternity and contained in the very foundation of the world. “Incarnation” is thus a double acceptance of humanity: divine and created. In the language of the Chalcedonian dogma, it is the union of two natures in Christ: the divine, which is pre-eternally human, and the created-human, adored through this union or “incarnation.” Such is the truth proclaimed by this application of the expression “Son of Man,” in all the paradox of the doctrine of the union of the “descent from heaven” with the human birth. This is one of John's dogmatic cryptograms of the theology of God-manhood. It is also contained in its own way in John’s testimony that he “saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove and remaining on Him” (1:32, 33). Here we have a deliberate parallel to the synoptic narrative of baptism with the general synoptic testimony of the descent of the Holy Spirit on Christ “like a dove,” however, it is also complemented and complicated by the Christological truth: “and abiding on Him.” This can be understood in a double sense: as the eternal presence of the Holy Spirit in heaven. on the Son, so is His earthly God-manhood, united with the descent of the Holy Spirit, Christ’s Pentecost: “He is the one who baptizes with the Holy Spirit, and I have seen and testified that this is the Son of God.” (1:33, 34). This text must, of course, be understood in the general context of the teaching about the Comforter. The descent of Christ from heaven in the Fourth Gospel receives a deliberate Christological justification. Christ is called the Forerunner, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world” (1:29, 36), of course, in consonance with the messianic prophecy of Deuteronomy Isaiah (chapter 53). And this idea about the sacrificial meaning of the incarnation is also contained in the main Christological text - the dogmatic meaning of which does not change depending on whether we see in it the saying of Christ himself, or the voice of the Evangelist: “God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish, but have eternal life, for God did not send his Son to judge the world, but that the world might be saved through him.” (3, 15–17). “I came not to judge, but to save the world” (12:47). More cannot be said about God and the world than what is told in these brief words, which define the Creator’s relationship to creation, to the “cosmos” as sacrificial love: the Father “gives” the “only begotten Son” for the sake of the love with which He loved the world, and, of course, this same love, realized in the self-giving of the Son, conceals in itself the action of the hypostasis of Love, the Holy Spirit, and that is self-revelation of the entire Holy Trinity. The thought of God’s sacrificial love for the world contains, as its reverse consequence, the fact that it is not judgment, and, consequently, condemnation of the world, that is brought by the coming of the Son into the world, but his salvation: “so that whoever believes in Him should not perish, but have eternal life” (3:15), a thought repeated twice more (16, 17). Faith is the way to assimilate salvation, and faith in Christ is defined as faith “in the Name of the only begotten Son of God.” The truth of name-glorification is expressed in this identification of the Name and the Named One, the Son of God, in the life of faith. The granting of “eternal life” is a special John expression for designating salvation from destruction and eternal bliss, used in the language of eschatology immanent to it; we have yet to encounter this. The connection between faith in the Son - or in His Name - and eternal life is found, in addition to 3:36, in chapters 6:47 ~ and 17:20, 31, the very expression “ξωή αιώνιος” occurs 17 times in the Gospel of John and six times in I John. So, the relationship between God and the world in the Fourth Gospel is defined not only cosmologically, as the Creator to creation, or eternal, primordial being to created things, but also soteriologically, on the ways of saving the world through its deification. But this destinedness of the world for salvation is presupposed by its existing state, from which it needs a way out. Namely, the self-affirmation of the world in which the latter finds itself is enmity against God and His Christ. This God-fighting and Christ-fighting state of the world finds its sharpest definition in John. “The world cannot hate you, but it hates Me, because I testify about it that its deeds are evil” (7:7). “If the world hates you, know that it hated Me before you. If you were of the world, the world would love its own, but because you are not of the world, but I chose you out of the world, therefore the world hates you” (15:18, 19). “I gave them Your word, and the world hated them, because they are not of the world, just as I am not of the world (17:14, 16). But at the same time, and despite precisely this, it is said: “I came not to judge the world, but to save the world” (12:47). And yet this antinomy of attitude towards the world is resolved as follows: “Now is the judgment of this world, now the prince of this world will be cast out. And when I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw everyone to Me” (12:31, 32). “I do not pray that You take them out of the world, but that You keep them from evil. They are not of the world, just as I am not of the world... As You sent Me into the world, so I have sent them into the world” (17:15, 16, 18). This is the High Priestly Prayer of Christ. We also find this same opposition of Himself to the world in the stories about the passion of Christ. All the Evangelists agree that the enemies of Jesus accused Him of stirring up the people against the authorities: “we found that He corrupts our people and forbids giving taxes to Caesar, calling Himself Christ the King” (Luke 23:2). It was, of course, a deliberate slander, which, however, the ruler could not help but take into account. Pilate's attitude towards Jesus therefore fluctuates between sincere distrust of the accusers and fear for himself, so as not to be accused of the inaction of the authorities regarding a dangerous conspirator. “The Jews shouted (to Pilate): “If you let Him go, you are not a friend of Caesar: everyone who makes himself a king is an opponent of Caesar” (19:12). The formal interrogation of Pilate is summarized as follows by the weather forecasters: “The governor asked Him: Are you the King of the Jews? Jesus said to him: “You speak” (Matt. 27:11). According to Matt. Jesus limits himself to only this brief answer, although affirmative, but, of course, in his own special sense. Same with Mr. 15:2 ~and Luke. 23:3. But John takes advantage of this solemn occasion to express the depth of the contrast between the world with its kingdom and the kingdom of Christ: “My kingdom is not of this world: if my kingdom were of this world, then my servants would fight (for me), so that I would not be handed over to the Jews, but now my kingdom is not from here. Pilate said to Him: So, You are a King? Jesus answered, “You say that I am a King” (18:36, 37). It is characteristic of the Fourth Gospel that when presenting the relationship between Christ and the world, where the opposition reaches its greatest severity, the Gethsemane struggle is completely absent, as is the prayer for the cup with its final “thy will be done” (Matt. 26:42). What receives such complete theological expression precisely in John, namely Filial obedience to the will of the Father, is absent here in this manifestation. John, too, does not seem to want to repeat what has already been said by the weather forecasters. Therefore, in his account after the Last Supper, “The Lord went out with His disciples beyond Kidron, where there was a garden, into which He and His disciples entered” (18:1). This is the “place called Gethsemane” described by the weather forecasters (Matthew 26:3,6, Mark 14:32). Passing in silence the night of Gethsemane with its struggle, the Evangelist goes straight to the story of the appearance of Judas and the taking of Christ. The latter, of course, differs from the synoptic in certain features (these comparisons are not included in the scope of our presentation). But what is striking in this comparison of the weather forecasters and John is that the story about the Battle of Gethsemane, which is absent from John, is replaced by the stories about the Last Supper with the washing of feet and the conversation (about Judas and with himself), which is absent from the weather forecasters, and, most importantly, the farewell conversation of Christ with the disciples, this focus of the entire Gospel. Perhaps nothing expresses with such force and sharpness the relationship between the Synoptics and John, precisely to the extent that the Fourth Gospel in its entirety represents part of the completion of what is already assumed to be known, and at the same time a theological explanation of the entire content of the Gospels. In particular, in relation to this question about God and the world, about Christ sent to save the world, who, however, is hostile to Him and does not accept Him, we have here a revelation about the glorification of Christ and in general about the Glory of God. Glory is one of the most important theological, or more precisely, sophiological themes of the entire Fourth Gospel, its Christology. The glory and glorification of the Godhead in V. 3. (Ex. 16:7, 10; 24:16, 17; 33:18–22; 40:34; Isa. 6:3; 48:11; Ezek. 2; 3; 8; 9; 10; 11) is His specific revelation, theophany. 22 Such a theophany in the New Testament can be partially compared, first of all, with the illumination of the glory of the shepherds on Christmas night (Luke 2:9). However, it does not have the same power of direct divine presence as in V. 3., but is rather a gracious illumination. The second and completely special manifestation of glory occurs at the Transfiguration of the Lord, when Christ “was overshadowed by a bright cloud” (Matthew 17:5, Mark 9:7, Luke 9:34, 35). The Transfiguration was a precursor to the glorification and manifestation of the glory of Christ, “coming with glory” (Matthew 24:30, Mark 13:26; Luke 21:27, - in glory Mark 8:38, Luke 9:26). The Fourth Gospel does not say anything directly about the Transfiguration (unless one applies to it what is said in the Prologue: “We saw His glory, the glory as the only begotten of the Father” (1:14). But it is characterized, as in other similar cases, by, so to speak, the theology or, more precisely, the sophiology of glory. Glory and the acceptance of glory, glorification is placed at the center of the work of Christ, as a goal and accomplishment. This accomplishment on His earthly path is achieved only from within, when the corresponding maturity and completeness in the service of Christ comes for him. It is in this sense that we must understand the solemn introduction of the farewell conversation: “now is the Son of Man glorified” (13:31). What does this refer to now? There was a time, according to the testimony of the Evangelist himself, when “Jesus was not yet glorified” (7:39), although the glorification that took place is not marked by any external date. Likewise, the transformation among the weather forecasters takes place as a pre-glorification that has begun, on the path to the passions. But here it was still revealed, although only to selected three disciples. The fourth Evangelist does not have this external phenomenon at all, which, however, did not prevent the onset of the internal accomplishment. Moreover, the reception of glory, glorification from the Father, is here the main subject of the high priestly prayer: “Father! the hour has come." (This is the usual designation of an upcoming spiritual accomplishment, repeated many times on different occasions). “Glorify Your Son, that Your Son also may glorify You” (17:1). When the weather forecasters mention the appearance of Christ in glory, it is understood as self-evident that only His glorification in heaven took place beyond the earthly ministry of Christ. Here it is depicted as still happening. But what does this glorification mean, which is moreover the action of the Father, and does it relate to His will? In order to understand glorification, we must start from an understanding of glory. The latter can be in two ways: firstly, the human movement of the mind and heart, prayerful ascension to the greatness of God, which, even being blessed, essentially remains a subjective psychological relationship of the creature to its Creator, and, secondly, ontological, divine self-revelation, for which the Glory of God is the Divinity itself, synonymous with Wisdom, Sophia the Divine. Of course, in this case, the first understanding in relation to the Lord Jesus Christ naturally disappears. From the side of human nature there can only be glorification, but not glorification in the ontological sense. The creature cannot give anything and add nothing to the glory of God in order to glorify its Creator. Therefore, the glorification of Christ can only come from the Divine Principle in the Holy Trinity, from the Father. And to this question in the Fourth Gospel a direct and precise theological answer is given through the lips of the Lord himself: “And now glorify me, Father, with yourself, with the glory that I had with you before the foundation of the world” (17:5). Even in the theological Gospel of the Theologian, there are few theological sayings of such depth and importance, such pithiness combined with brevity, as this. It contains all of sophiology, revealed precisely in the sophiological aspect. And first of all, what can this “before” mean here, correlative, of course, with the implied “after”? Obviously, it determines not a chronological sequence in time, but an ontological relationship between the eternity of the Father's Glory and the temporality of world, created existence, or, in terms of sophiology; Sophia Divine and created. Only the weakness of the human word forces us to resort to expressing this relationship by comparing supertemporal relationships with those borrowed from time. We have sufficient analogies for this in the Old Testament and in the New. First of all, this includes the very beginning of the Word of God about the “Beginning,” in which (or from which) God created heaven and earth, and the same thought, differently expressed, is found in Proverbs. Sol. 8:22, with their non-canonical parallels about the Wisdom that the Lord had, as “the beginning of His path, before His creatures, from time immemorial” (for an anthropomorphic-chronological way of expressing this same thought about the relationship between eternity and time, see also in v. 30: “then I was an artist with him, and was a joy every day, rejoicing in His presence all the time”). In the New Testament, we find this same Beginning at the beginning of the Fourth Gospel, in the Prologue, 1:1. This beginning, which ontologically “precedes” everything that came into being through it, is what is revealed in the world in glory, as “the glory of the Only Begotten from the Father” (1:14). This eternal glory is the self-revelation of the Father in the Son. With double emphasis it is testified that the Son does not glorify Himself, but is glorified by the Father: “glorify Me, You, Father, with You (παρά σεαυτῷ) with the glory that I had with You (παρὰ σοι)” (almost identical repetition). This idea that initially the Father has glory, which he imparts to the Son, not only in time, but also in eternity, thus has both trinitarian and sophiological application. In the first sense, it means the consubstantiality of all the hypostases of the Holy Trinity, which is expressed in the unity of their nature, or essence, or wisdom, or glory (all of these are ontological synonyms). But it does not exclude intra-Trinity relationships with differences in hypostatic characters: the first hypostasis still remains the first, or the beginning, revealed through the hypostases that reveal it, although this revelation itself remains one and identical for all three hypostases. Each hypostasis has it in its own way, in particular the Son receives it from the Father. Moreover, here, as in all of John’s pneumatology, the action of the third hypostasis is also silently implied, as glorifying the Son on whom She rests, from the Father, glorifying Him with Her. Divinity, the nature of God, is revealed from the Father in the Word as Wisdom, but through the Spirit it becomes Glory. Therefore, the words of the Son about “the glory that I had with You” in eternity and before the creation of the world are a cryptogram of self-revelation, and therefore the self-glorification of the Holy Trinity, which initially comes from the Father. The sophiological meaning of glory (the same as the beginning, which, however, is not expressed here directly, as in V. 3. and in the Prologue, but only in the context of the concepts of glory and the world: “glory ... before the existence of the world”) is identical with Wisdom and in general with the Divinity. Glory, of course, is not some special principle in the Holy Trinity, different from the beginning or wisdom or the Divinity in general, it is still the same single self-identical essence. However, being defined in relation to the world, here she herself is distinguished as existing in God from eternity, or in creation, in the world, in temporary formation, in other words, as Divine and created Wisdom. Between them, on the one hand, there is a relationship of self-identity, the unity of divine wisdom in God Himself and His creation, but on the other hand, the difference between the immutable fullness of eternity and becoming, as having an outcome and a goal, a beginning and an end, and, most importantly, a way of its implementation, has full force. This is expressed in the idea of ​​glorification (discussed below). But it is no coincidence that the Divinity, as self-revelation in the Word, is defined as Wisdom, and in its accomplishment in creation receives the definition of Glory. Each hypostasis of the Holy Trinity is characterized by a special sophiological face or character: The first, the Beginning, which embraces the fullness: the Kingdom, and power, and glory, is, first of all, the divine nature or nature, closed and self-sufficient in itself, the silence of mystery, the transcendence of the Father even in the Holy Trinity. But it is in the Son, in Glory, there is Wisdom, completeness. The Divine is all, reflected in everything created (I, 3), but in the Holy Spirit it is the Glory of the Father in the Son, revealed by the Holy Spirit in God and in creation. This relationship between the divine glory in God himself and in creation is precisely what is defined as glorification, or, what is the same, the honoring of the creature. For him, the eternal foundation, as the outcome, and the created fulfillment, as the path and life, are equally necessary. But this glorification, or, what is the same thing, honoring, takes place in Christ, who, as God’s power and God’s wisdom (1 Cor. 1:24) is her hypostatic manifestation in the world through incarnation. This is precisely where the Christological aspect of the doctrine of glory and glorification is revealed. First of all, it is determined by the dogma: “and the Word became flesh,” which in the Chalcedonian interpretation means the duality of natures, divine and human, with the unity of hypostasis, and, consequently, the life of the God-man... Such a unique duality of theanthropic life in Christ presupposes the communion of properties (communis idiomatum), i.e., the ongoing deification of human nature through kenosis, in free self-abasement divine. It is not the human that is measured by the divine measure, but the divine that is diminished to the human measure: “He made himself a little, and took on the form of a servant, becoming in the likeness of mankind, and becoming like a man in the image” (Phil. 2:7). But this self-abasement is the path to deification or glorification. The dogma of glorification through kenosis, which is revealed in Phil. 2, permeates all the gospel narratives. However, with all the deliberateness of theology, it is given precisely in the Fourth Gospel with its teaching about the glory and glorification of the Son of Man. It has its own theological dialectic; it is precisely at the same time that the glorification that is about to be accomplished, the glorification that is taking place, and the glorification that has already taken place are united, as an illumination with the glory of the eternity of earthly and temporal life. This glorification for Christ is also a conscious goal, a will towards it, and even more, a prayer for the same thing. Christ prays to the Father for His glorification. Needless to say, this latter has nothing to do with vain human glorification, empty and powerless, but is the return of the eternal glory inherent in Him, participation in it. All this dialectic of glorification naturally appears in greatest tension at the end of Christ’s earthly journey, when events thicken and accomplishments ripen. Here we must remember 12:27, 28, Christ’s conversation after the conversion of the Hellenes. 23 The Lord testifies in this regard “to the coming of the hour.” Earlier it is said more than once throughout the Gospel that “the hour has not yet come” (in Cana Gal. 2:4; 7, 30 – in the church; 8:20~at the treasury), but now it has come, this hour: “Jesus answered and said to them, The hour has come that the Son of Man should be glorified” (12:23), and this approach of the hour is evidenced by the prayerful sign. At the same time, precisely what we called the dialectic of glorification, connected by the duality of natures in the God-Man, is clearly revealed. Both of them are not only in agreement, but also in struggle with each other (the Gethsemane struggle, of course, is not limited to this night alone, but extends to the entire earthly life of the Savior). It is immediately after the testimony of the coming of the hour for glorification that even the pre-Gethsemane prayerful cry emerges from the lips of Christ: “My soul is now troubled; and what should I say? Father, deliver Me from this hour! But at this hour I have come. Father! Glorify Your Name. Then a voice came from heaven: I have glorified it and will glorify it again. The people who stood and heard it said: it is thunder. And others said: The angel spoke to him. To this Jesus said: This voice was not for Me, but for the people. Now is the judgment of this world; now the prince of this world will be cast out. And when I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw everyone to Me” (12:27-32). (Compare 3:13~and 6:62). Here evidence is characteristically combined of both the “indignation” of the soul and glorification; one does not exclude the other, on the contrary, it is even connected with it. This is the antinomian dynamic of glorification. 24 This same antinomy of passions and glorification is revealed even more fully in the farewell conversation and the high priestly prayer, which are both devoted to this theme of glorification, presenting it in all its breadth. At this time, what was said from the beginning is repeated more and more insistently: “I will go to Him who sent Me” (7:33), “I go to My Father” (14:12), “I go to Him who Sent Me” (16:5), “now I come to You” (17:11). And the very institution of the Last Supper is explained by the Evangelist this way: “Before the feast of Passover, Jesus knew that His hour had come to pass from the world to the Father”... (13:1). The same thought is expressed differently in other texts: “what if you see the Son of Man ascending to where He was before” (6:62). “Now I go to Him who sent Me” (16:5). “I go to My Father” (10). “I came from the Father and came into the world, and again I leave the world and go to the Father” (16:28). All this relates, so to speak, to John’s Ascension; there is a facet that testifies to the accomplishment of the work of Christ. This is also evidenced on the cross in the dying word: “it is finished.” The antinomic dynamics of accomplishment in relation to glorification is also connected with the fact that it separates internal and external, eternal and temporary. The first comes earlier than the second, but at the same time both achievements are preserved, alternated and even mixed: temporary and supertemporal. This is precisely the structure of the farewell conversation in relation to this issue. It is revealed already in her very first words, which are, as it were, the title of the conversation: “Now is the Son of Man glorified, and God is glorified in Him. If God was glorified in Him, then God will glorify Him in Himself, and will soon glorify Him” (13.31, 32). “Now he has become glorified” - νῦν έδοζάσθη, the past tense (aorist) in conjunction with “now” testifies to the glorification that has already taken place. 25 It has full force, because “God was glorified (also aorist έδοξάσθη) in Him.” The obedience of the Son in the passion of the cross and death, accepted as an internal decision, and therefore an accomplishment, glorifies God. What could such glorification mean? Of course, it has a different meaning than the second glorification, which is said immediately further: “If God was glorified in Him, then God will glorify Him in Himself, and will soon glorify Him” (32). The glorification of God by creation, as the fulfillment of His will, perfect obedience, means deification, the sanctification of the creature, the achievement of transparency and interpermeability of the divine Sophia in the created, sanctification (cf. Phil. 2:7-11). Kenosis is a condition of His glory, but with it He Himself glorifies the Father. In relation to the God-man, with the duality of His natures, it means that human nature, having achieved complete deification, becomes capable and worthy of ascending to heaven in resurrection and ascension, and with this, as a created thing, it glorifies its Creator. Humanity becomes transparent to the Divine, God-human, and glorification here means accomplished, fully realized God-manhood. Therefore, the two meanings of glorification refer to two opposing ontological accomplishments: the first comes from God glorifying to the person glorified, the second, reciprocal, comes from humanity, glorifying God in itself and in itself. This duality, Christologically understood, refers to the Chalcedonian union of two natures, inseparable and unmerged, but sophiologically it means the relationship between the divine Sophia and the created, one and identical in the basis, but dual in being, and this bifurcation is overcome by actual identification, which is glorification and deification. So, here the Evangelist testifies that glorification had already occurred before the most recent, decisive events; it took place, obviously, internally. And this means that it happened and received strength not only in them alone, as individual events, but in the entire earthly ministry of Christ, in the unity of His theanthropic life. When and how exactly this happened, we can look for a direct answer to this in the Fourth Gospel even less than from the weather forecasters. This is the inaccessible mystery of the life of the God-man in its fulfillment. There is no doubt that it occurs over a certain duration, has a development, takes place in time, although it is realized in its supratemporal integral. However, this completion of it is connected with the onset of times and dates, has its own meaning now, no matter how we understand it - broadly or narrowly -. Here there is a certain discrepancy between the timing of internal and external accomplishment, although, of course, the first, for its completeness, is not separable from the second. It is here that we observe the paradoxical antinomy of the time of present, past and future in glorification: “if God was glorified in Him, then God will glorify Him in Himself, and will soon glorify Him” (32). In the previous verse, the starting point is the already accomplished glorification of the Son. It could not be self-glorification, but it is His glorification from God the Father, and it is testified here as having already been accomplished. And in v. 32 this same glorification is spoken of only in the future tense, even with some, albeit approximate, designation of the date: “soon” - εύθνς. Consequently, it is depicted as not yet accomplished, but only about to be accomplished. Obviously, the thought here moves from an internal accomplishment that has already taken place to an external one that has not yet occurred, but is about to occur “soon,” i.e., in the next 24 hours. The time of this glorification is associated with the passion of the cross and the death of Christ. However, this glorification, in turn, remains internal, not accomplished. Its completion will follow only in the resurrection and ascension to the Father. Thus, the deification or osophification of the Son of Man has its own degrees, and each of them, of course, except for the very last and highest, is considered simultaneously both as something already accomplished and as something not yet accomplished, but only glorification in progress. 26 The most important and solemn word about the glorification of the Son by the Father is included in the high priestly prayer. Despite the testimony of glorification that has already occurred, Christ here prays for its occurrence as if it has not yet been accomplished. Obviously, here too we have a continuing antinomy of the dynamics of glorification, its dialectic: “Father! The hour has come: glorify Your Son, that Your Son also may glorify You” (17:1). Once again the coming of the “hour,” obviously internal and external, for glorification (as with the conversion of the Hellenes) is solemnly witnessed. Christ Himself prays to the Father for His glorification. Here it means that it is considered as not yet occurring, but only about to occur, and moreover in both senses: as the glorification of the Son by the Father, and as the reciprocal glorification of the Father by the Son. Obviously, what is meant here is the final, not only internally predetermined and prepared, but also as the accomplished work of the Father over the Son. And the basis for this, as above, is the readiness of the Son to do so: “I glorified - (έδόξασα - again aorist form) You on earth, I completed the work that You gave Me to do” (17:4), “and now You glorify Me with the glory that I had with You before the foundation of the world” (5). We have already spoken about the ontological nature of this glory above. In this application, the context expresses the sophiological nature of glorification, as the final deification, the endowment of the created human nature of the Son of Man with divinity, His assimilation of the measure that is eternally characteristic of Him as the Son of God. This same sophiological thought about the eternal glory of Christ is expressed again in the final part of the prayer: “Father, whom You have given Me, I want them to be with Me where I am, so that they may see My glory, which You have given Me, because You loved Me before the foundation of the world” (17:24). What is obviously meant here is the eternal glory of God, which is characteristic of the Son of God in the intra-Trinitarian life, His deity, “before the foundation of the world” (cf. v. 5). In what sense is this glory spoken of here: “which You gave Me” (24), as opposed to that “I had with You” (5)? Both expressions in this context are obviously not equivalent. If next to “had” (5) it says “gave” (24), then this expresses two different shades of thought about the glorification and glory of Christ. One thing He gains by the power of His ministry, which is the basis for His glorification by the Father, in response to His prayer for this glorification. But at the same time, the eternal glory, characteristic of Him before the creation of the world, belongs to Him, is characteristic of Him, as the Son of God, the Second Divine Hypostasis. In this sense, He has it, and it cannot even be given to Him. Therefore, if in Art. 34, after Art. 22, the expression given was used, then in this case, according to the context, it should be understood in relation to eternity, in exactly the same sense as in the pre-eternal birth of the Son from the Father it is said in a verbal form expressing the one-time occurrence: “You are My Son, today I have begotten You” (Ps. 2:7). The pre-eternal birth, which takes place, has power transtemporally and all-time, is here inseparably connected with the assimilation of the Divinity in a single, identical act of birth from the Father (just as the same should be applied, mutatis mutandis, to the procession of the Holy Spirit from the Father). The prayers of the Son to the Father refer not only to the glorification of Him, but also of the disciples. The entire major part of it is devoted to this, starting from verse 6. One common feature of this prayer is striking, which should first of all be noted as striking, especially when compared with the weather forecasters. The last communication with the disciples before their separation from Christ in their depiction was sorrowful: Christ tells them about this, applying the prophecy of Zechariah to this case (13:7). “You will all be offended because of Me this night, for it is written: “I will strike the shepherd, and the sheep of the flock will be scattered” (Matthew 26:31; Mark 14:27). This is followed by Peter’s assurance of his faithfulness even to death and the Lord’s response prediction about his threefold denial of Christ (Matthew 26:33–35, Mark 14:29–31, Luke 22:33, 34). “All the disciples said the same thing” (Matthew 26:35; Mark 14:31). At St. Luke has one more feature in this story that is absent in the others. These are the words of the Lord addressed to Peter: “Simon! Simon! Behold, Satan asked to sow you like wheat. But I prayed for you, so that your faith would not fail, and you, when you have turned, strengthen your brothers” (22:32). This prayer also presupposes that Peter’s falling away has already taken place, although it must still be followed by his conversion (told in the epilogue, in chapter 22 of John). In the Gospel of John, this appeal of Christ to Peter with a prediction about his renunciation is completely absent, although there is a story about this renunciation (18:25–27). And then the entire night of the Gethsemane struggle is described by weather forecasters in the saddest tones. Christ, deliberately taking Peter and both sons of Zebedee with Him, “began to grieve and yearn. Then he says to them: My soul is grieved to death; stay here and watch with Me” (Matthew 26:37, 38), and “I began to be horrified and grieved” (Mark 14:33). But coming to the disciples three times, Christ finds them sleeping “from sorrow” (Luke 22:45), “their eyes were heavy” (Matthew 26:43), “and they did not know what to answer Him” (Mark 14:40), so He turned to them with an involuntary word of meek reproach addressed to Peter: “Simon, are you sleeping? Could you not watch with Me for one hour?” (Mr. 14:37), “watch and pray so that you do not fall into temptation” (Matt. 26:41; Luke 22:40–46). All these sorrowful details are absent in the Fourth Gospel; on the contrary, the state of the apostles before the terrible test awaiting them is depicted with the most victorious features. The high priestly prayer says this about the disciples: “I have revealed Your name to the people whom You gave Me out of the world; they were Yours, and You gave them to Me, and they have kept Your word; Now they have understood that everything that You have given Me is from You, for the words that You gave Me I gave to them, and they received and truly understood that I came from You, and they believed that You sent Me. I pray for them: I do not pray for the world, but for those whom You have given Me, because they are Yours; and all that is Mine is Thine, and Thine is Mine, and I am glorified in them” (6–10). “And the glory that You gave Me, I have given them” (22). “Father, whom You have given Me, I want them to be with Me where I am. And let them see My glory” (24). So, the picture of the disciples that is given here is different from the degenerate state that awaits them all, with Peter at the head (except only one beloved disciple). At the same time, there is no reason to believe that the fourth Evangelist here changes the internal context in which his entire gospel is located in relation to the weather forecasters. How should we understand this context without seeing a gaping contradiction in both images of the farewell night? There is only one way to overcome it: namely, it is necessary to attribute both narratives of such different styles and to different events. One refers to a super-temporal accomplishment, as the spiritual fruit of Christ’s work on earth, in particular with the disciples, the other already refers to the earthly history of this terrible hour. This hour is not only experienced, but lived out in time, ripening for eternity. The disciples sleeping in Gethsemane are separated from their glorified image by the Resurrection of Christ, Pentecost, together with their own ministry, apostolic and martyrdom. The perspective of the farewell conversation and especially the high priestly prayer is therefore completely different from that of the synoptic story. We can say that it relates to ontology, and not to history, to the transtemporal and eternal, and not temporary and transitory, the divine-human, and not only human. Only about this glorification by the glory of Christ can only be said: “that they may be one, even as We are one, I in them and You in Me” (23). This is an accomplishment, a complete deification, the sophization of humanity, in this case in the person of the disciples. Here the whole distinction must be made between the different modes of glorification in Christ. Christ Himself asks and, of course, receives from the Father the premium glory that He had before the creation of the world. Acceptance of this glory also means glorification, osophification of His human being, perfect God-manhood. But this created-sophical glorification includes and extends to His disciples, the Church and all of humanity, but only throughout the entire duration of human history, its apocalypse. 4. Love and joy in the Fourth Gospel. Along with the doctrine of glory and glorification, it is also a deliberate gospel of love, divine and human, theanthropic. Of course, the commandment to love God and neighbor, given already in the Old Testament (Lev. 19:13; Deut. 6:5), passes into the New, as the power of “the law and the prophets” (Matt. 22:35–40; 5:44; Mark 12:29–33). But this Old Testament commandment is fully revealed only in the Fourth Gospel. Here the doctrine of mutual hypostatic love in the Holy Trinity is presented as applied to human life. Its main focus is in the farewell conversation, which should be understood precisely as the testament of the God-man about love as the all-exhaustive basis of Christianity. This truth is expressed in all its diversity of shades, in relation to both divine and human love. The first has already been revealed in the doctrine of the Holy Trinity, as the love of the Father for the Son, and the Son for the Father, and about the revelation of the Father in the Son by the Holy Spirit. Even in the conversation of the Baptist John it is said (John. 3:35): “The Father loves the Son and has given all things into His hand,” the same is true in Christ’s conversation after healing the paralytic: “The Father loves the Son and shows Him everything that He Himself does” (5:20). “This is why the Father loves Me, because I lay down My life” (in a conversation about the Good Shepherd: 10:17). But in the farewell conversation, the mutual love of the Father and the Son is the main theme, permeating it all, “so that the world may know that I love the Father and, as the Father commanded Me, so I do.” (14:31). “As the Father has loved Me, and I have loved you, remain in My love. If you keep My commandments, you will remain in My love, just as I have kept My Father’s commandments and abide in His love” (15:10). “The Father Himself loves you, because you have loved Me” (16.27). “And I have made Your name known to them, and will make it known, that the love with which You loved Me may be in them, and I in them” (17:26). This is the last word of Christ before the passion. So, the general commandment about love receives a divine-human justification here; it is likened to the love of the Father and the Son, who himself, being bound by love with the human race, brings all people into the bosom of the Father’s love. And with all the more insistence, the commandment about mutual human love is repeated here, and precisely as a new one: “A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another” (John 13:34; 15:17). But why does this same commandment appear among the weather forecasters as “the law and the prophets,” but here as a new one? It is obvious from the new theanthropic content that is embedded in it here: “whoever has my commandments and keeps them, he loves me, and whoever loves me will be loved by my Father, and I will love him and will appear to him myself” (14:21). “If you keep My commandments, you will remain in My love, just as I have kept My Father’s commandments and abide in His love” (15:10). Everything is repeated in a new way - in the usual style of John's repetitions - the same thought: “I command you this, that you love one another” (15:17). “The Father himself loves you, because you loved me and believed that I came from God” (16:27). But this love for the Son is raised to the love of the fathers: “That the world may know that You sent Me and loved them, even as You loved Me... that the love with which You loved Me may be in them, and I in them” (17:26). So, human love is freed from its psychological basis, but becomes divine-human, like life in the Son, and through the Son in the Father. It receives ontological justification. This is no longer abstract morality, but living God and knowing God. John’s twofold commandment of love is raised to such a height: towards God and one’s neighbor. Both of them, according to weather forecasters, are “similar” to each other, but here they are even more than similar, but identical, not statically, but dynamically, like eternal life - in extension, as knowing no end in time, but also inexhaustible in intensity (John 17:3). Christ gives it to humanity: “Because You have given Him power over all flesh, that He may give eternal life to all that You have given Him—and this is eternal life, that they may know You, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom You have sent” (17:2, 3). The Gospel of John is characterized by one more final theme that is absent from the Synoptics - namely, the joy of Christ that He gives to His disciples. A solemn promise is given about this in the farewell conversation. However, here too joy is spoken of in a double sense, on the one hand as a human, spiritual state, and on the other as a gift from God, an actual, so to speak, ontological joy. In the first sense, the words of the Lord must be understood: “You have never asked anything in My Name; ask and you will receive, so that your joy may be complete” (16:24). “You will be sad, but your sorrow will turn into joy. When a woman gives birth, she suffers sorrow, because her hour has come; but when she gives birth to a child, she no longer remembers the sorrow for joy, because a man has been born into the world. So now you also have sorrow, but I will see you again, and your heart will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you” (16:20-22). However, in the last text the duality of the meaning of joy is already revealed; it fluctuates and moves from one to another, from psychology to ontology. This transition is indicated with even greater clarity in 15.11: “I have spoken these things to you, that My joy may be in you, and that your joy may be fulfilled” (ηληρωθῇ). Here the joy of Christ is assimilated by the disciples as perfect human joy. (Cf. also I John 1:4). The high priestly prayer already directly says: “Now I come to You, and I say this in the world, so that they may have My joy fulfilled in them” (17:13) (πεπληρωμένην έυ αύτοῖξ). What does this fulfilled perfect joy of Christ mean? It is obvious, in any case, that here it must be understood as a kind of communion with the divine life, which therefore must be connected with the doctrine of glory. The farewell conversation begins with a speech about glory, and it is the main subject of the high priestly prayer. The Son prays for her to the Father as for His glorification, but also for His disciples. But this glory is also the perfect joy that He gives to the disciples. Both Glory and Joy must be understood equally in the sophiological sense, in their originality and mutual identity. The glory that the God-man asks from the Father, He already had it from the Father before the world was (17:5). Now Christ asks for this glory not only for Himself, but also for the disciples: “Father! whom You have given Me, I want them to be with Me where I am, so that they may see My glory, which You have given Me, because You loved Me before the foundation of the world” (17:24). The “foundation of the world” is the Divine Sophia, the object of divine love. “Before” the foundation of the world, in heaven, in the premium life of St. Trinity, Wisdom is the Glory of God, but it is also, obviously, the Joy of Divine life, “eternal life” with its bliss. But just as the Divine Sophia is the “foundation” of the world, the created Sophia, so participation in it, the sophia of creation, is the communication of glory to it. A word about this involuntarily broke out from the heart of the Apostle Peter on the Mount of Transfiguration of Christ, this manifestation of His glory: “Lord, it is good for us to be here” (Matthew 17:4; Mark 9:5; Luke 9:33). The vision of the glory of God, as well as its glorification of creation, is, of course, perfect joy, heavenly bliss, communion with Christ. Naturally, the theological, and at the same time the sophiological, Gospel of John speaks, albeit with the greatest conciseness, which, however, still elevates the significance of what is said, about the joy of Christ, which is also the joy of the resurrection. And it is also natural that this joy is spoken of in the Gospel, which came from the hands of the disciple adopted by Christ to the Mother of God. It is inspiration and the Mother of God... The Archangel of the Annunciation addressed the Most Pure Virgin with the greeting: “Rejoice, O Blessed One!” (Luke 1:28). He came to Her to proclaim the joy of Christ, perfect in the Conception of God. But, according to the belief of the church, She was the first to receive the news of the resurrection from an angel (isn’t it the same as in the Annunciation?): “The angel cried out with grace: pure Virgin, rejoice.” And this is the Joy and Glory of Christ's resurrection. The main difference between the Synoptics and the Fourth Gospel in relation to the judgment of Christ is that in the former it is a kind of transcendental event for the world, the second coming of Christ, and in the latter it is the immanent revelation of the truth of Christ, His light and truth. There is no opposition here, but only the difference between external and internal accomplishment, in their mutual completion. Therefore, the eschatology of the Synoptics is expressed in the terrible promise of the coming of the King in glory with all the saints. angels for the final Judgment (Matthew 25:31; Mark 8:38). On the contrary, John’s eschatology, if one can speak of it, is expressed only in the farewell gospel to the disciples: “In My Father’s house are many mansions, and if it were not so, I would say to you: “I am going to prepare a place for you.” And when I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and take you to Myself, so that where I am you also may be” (14:2, 3). Nothing is said at all about the coming for the general judgment. The judgment itself is spoken of more than once, but in a completely different way than the weather forecasters. On the one hand, it is directly stated here: “God did not send His Son into the world to judge the world, but that the world might be saved through Him.” (This is what Christ proclaims to Nicodemus, or the evangelist himself preaches the gospel in connection with this conversation: John 3:17). And, according to the custom of the Fourth Gospel, the same thought is literally repeated (albeit in a slightly different context) in the speech of Christ 12:47: “I came not to judge the world, but to save the world.” True, there are also other words of Christ (to the man born blind), as if with the exact opposite content: “I came into this world for judgment” (9:39). However, this apparent contradiction is immediately explained by His further words: “so that those who do not see will see, and those who see will become blind,” i.e. we are talking about different internal perceptions of the appearance of Christ. This difference is this immanent judgment: self-justification or condemnation. This is the main idea of ​​the Fourth Gospel about the judgment of Christ, repeated several times in it: “he who rejects Me and does not accept My words has his own destiny: the word that I speak will judge him on the last day” (12:48) (έν τῇ έσχατη ήμερα). The last expression, purely John’s, is found in his Eucharistic speech in 6:39, 40, 44, 54 as applied to the resurrection: “This is the will of the Father who sent Me, that of what He has given Me I should destroy nothing, but raise it all up on the last day.” “This is the will of him who sent me, that everyone who sees the Son and believes in him may have eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day.” “No one can come to Me unless the Father who sent Me draws him, and I will raise him up at the last day.” “He who eats My flesh and drinks My blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day.” All these texts refer primarily to the resurrection, more than to the judgment, just as in 11:24, the words of Martha about Lazarus addressed to the Savior: “I know that he will rise again at the resurrection on the last day.” (Thus, eschatology does not contain the doctrine of the second coming of Christ to judgment, but only of the general resurrection, with a certain immanent lynching). “The time is coming in which all who are in the tombs will hear the voice of the Son of God, and those who have done good will come out to the resurrection of life, and those who have done evil to the resurrection of condemnation” (5:28, 29). The fiery images of speech about the Last Judgment in the Gospel of Matthew (25) are clothed in such an abstract form here. Of course, we must not forget that the Fourth Gospel is in context with the Synoptics and implies their eschatology. It is, in a certain sense, a commentary or addition to it, but in itself it is not eschatological in the precise sense. Therefore, the Fourth Gospel does not contain chapters or even individual texts of a purely eschatological nature. And in its last chapters there is also a story only about the appearances of the Risen One, and only in the last words of Christ do we find a certain general promise - “until I come” (21:22, 23) - in all its uncertainty, and this word, with its sound, seems to be carried away into heaven. According to John, the immanent judgment associated with the manifestation or incarnation of God is given by the Father to the Son, just as among the weather forecasters the coming into the world of the Son is also a judgment on him. It is precisely the rejection of Him by some, albeit “their own,” with the acceptance by others that provides the basis for this distinction of internal judgment. “He came to his own people, but did not receive him from his own people. And the little ones received Him, and gave them the realm to become children of God” (1:11, 12). But in general it is said: “The Father does not judge anyone, but has given all judgment to the Son, so that everyone may honor the Son as they honor the Father. Whoever does not honor the Son does not honor the Father who sent Him” (5:22, 23). This is what the Lord says in his speech after healing the paralytic. And this thought is once again confirmed with the usual John’s repetition in the same speech of the Lord: “And He gave Him authority to execute judgment, because He is the Son of Man” (27). “I cannot create anything on my own. As I hear, I judge. And My judgment is righteous, for I do not seek My will, but the will of the Father who sent Me” (30). The same is repeated in the speech of 8:15: “You judge according to the flesh, I do not judge anyone, and if I do judge, My judgment is true, because I am not alone, but I and the Father who sent Me, and in your law it is written that the testimony of two people is true” (Deut. 19:15). I myself testify of Myself, and the Father who sent Me testifies of Me” (8:16-18). The immanence of this judgment of the Son is also repeatedly confirmed in John, starting with 3:18: “he who believes in Him (the Son) is not condemned, but he who does not believe is already condemned, because he has not believed in the Name of the only begotten Son of God. The judgment is that light has come into the world; But men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil” (3:19). And a word to the man born blind: “I came into this world for judgment, so that those who do not see may see, and those who see may become blind” (9:39). Also in the speech of chapter 12: “Whoever rejects Me and does not accept My words has a destiny for himself: the word that I spoke will judge him at the last day, for I did not speak on My own authority, but the Father who sent Me, He gave Me a commandment, what to say and what to say. And I know that His commandment is eternal life. Therefore, whatever I say, I speak as the Father spoke to Me” (12:48–50). Interhypostatic immanentism, the revelation of the Father in the Son, is also revealed in divine-human immanentism, the revelation of the Son in men, in accordance with the measure and manner of their perception. This is the judgment of the Son of man in men and upon men. 27 It does not have an eschatological or final character; rather, it is an intermediate state, the path to the universal salvation of the world, which is here proclaimed as the general and obviously final goal of Christ’s coming into a world lying in evil (I John 5:19). But it is precisely this idea of ​​the immanent confrontation of the world with Christ and in the world itself, along with this general overcoming of the world (“take courage, I have overcome the world.” 16:33) and the condemnation and expulsion of the prince of this world (12:31; 16:11) that is revealed in all its strength and, as usual, through repetition is affirmed in the Gospel of John. Thus, after the Feast of Tabernacles, the Lord says to his disciples: “The world cannot hate you, but it hates Me, because I testify about it that its deeds are evil” (7:7). Christ's speech in chapter 8 at the treasury again says: “You are from below, I am from above, you are from this world, I am not from this world” (8:23). In his farewell conversation, Christ repeats again: “If the world hates you, know that it hated Me before you. If you were of the world, the world would love its own, but because you are not of the world, but I chose you out of the world, therefore the world hates you” (15:19). And the high priestly prayer concludes: “I have given them Your word, and the world has hated them, because they are not of the world, just as I am not of the world. I do not pray that You take them out of the world, but that You keep them from evil. They are not of the world, just as I am not of the world” (17:14–16). And finally, at Pilate’s trial, the Lord once again, for the last time, testifies: “My kingdom is not of this world... now My kingdom is not from here” (18:36). This dialectic, more precisely, the antinomics of the world, according to which it is alien, hostile and opposed to Christ, and at the same time saved by Him, is the main feature of the teaching about God and the world in the Fourth Gospel. It must be theologically and soteriologically comprehended. This unworldly, or rather, supra-worldly, character of the Kingdom of God is indicated by Christ in his conversation with Nicodemus, moreover, with a deliberate emphasis, which, as we know, is found in the Fourth Evangelist in cases of special importance: “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless someone is born again, he cannot see the Kingdom of God” (John 3:3). And this word is once again confirmed by Christ with the same power (5). This brief teaching about the Kingdom of God by John, of course, is directly adjacent to and implies a more extensive teaching about the Kingdom of God by the Synoptics. In order to exhaust the teaching of the Gospel of John about judgment, we should also dwell on its Satanology. Compared to the weather forecasters and especially Revelation, in general the expressions Satan or the devil are less common here (especially if you exclude the story of Judas). The main text relevant here, 8:44, is contained in the Lord’s conversation with the Jews: “your father is the devil... he was a murderer from the beginning and did not stand in the truth... he is a liar and the father of lies.” Here in brief words is contained the doctrine of the tempter as the father of lies and who brought vengeance upon man, obviously as a consequence of sin. Another name for the devil, used here, refers to his predatory power in the world and his defeat by the power of Christ: “the prince of this world,” ό ἄρχών τοῦ κόσμον τούτου “now the prince of this world will be cast out” (12:31) and (said after the conversion of the Hellenes): “the prince of this world comes and has nothing in Me” (14:30) and “the prince of this world is condemned” (16:11), “about which the Holy Spirit, having come, will convict the world” (16:8) (in the farewell conversation). These brief words contain two thoughts: the devil’s attempt to overcome Christ and his defeat, which is also condemnation. In comparison with the weather forecasters, what is missing here (although, obviously, is implied in the general meaning): “the prince of this world comes and has nothing in Me,” that is, he will be powerless in his temptations. This goes even more synoptically and can be interpreted as: “the devil left Him until a time” (Luke 4:13), and this time of course comes in Gethsemane, where the prince of this world is coming against Him. This naming of Satan “the prince of this world” already contains, together with 8:44, Satanology, and the testimony of his expulsion its eschatology. However, it is outlined as immanently as the entire Johannine eschatology. Namely, it is said about the expulsion of Satan only in the context of his conviction by the action of the Holy Spirit coming into the world (16:8-11), and then only a certain silence is indicated: “I still have much to say to you, but now you cannot bear it” (16:12). Thus, general eschatology is given only in the most general outlines, moreover, from the side of judgment and chastisement. It does not speak of the final accomplishment itself, but only of the end of the state of this world in its captivity to the prince of this world. These general outlines of soteriology also lack the features of the philosophy of history, which is the main subject of Revelation. This absence is also consistent with the general style of the Fourth Gospel. The peculiarity of the Fourth Gospel in its depiction of earthly events is such that they are also considered on the divine plane, as the eternal predestination of God. The synergistic interaction of the divine and grace-filled on the one hand, and the natural, human on the other, in people’s lives is defined here from the side of Divine destiny, as the destiny of God. Therefore, one naturally gets the impression of a certain determinism of events, in which there seems to be no place left for human freedom, responsibility and self-determination. With the greatest paradox, such predestination is expressed in relation to the fate of Judas, which is depicted as the fate of a sad lot. First, it is only generally testified by the Evangelist that “Jesus did not entrust Himself to them (those who believed in Him), because He knew everyone and did not need anyone to testify about man, for He Himself knew what was in man” (2:25). This knowledge was not only human knowledge, even armed with the deepest insight, no, it was also the divine knowledge of the Creator about His creation, His predestination about it. This general idea is further applied more specifically to Judas. The Lord speaks about him this way in his conversation about the Life-Giving Bread: “There are some unbelievers among you. For Jesus from the beginning knew who the unbelievers were and who would betray Him” (6:64). An attempt to interpret this knowledge “from the beginning,” as applied to Judas, as obtained after studying its properties, 28 fails as an obvious stretch in relation to the direct text, and not only when applied to Judas, but also to all those “who are unbelievers.” There is no reason to give such a diminished meaning to the expression έξ ἀρχῆς (cf. 16:4), 29 especially since the following text confirms precisely this meaning: “And I said: For this reason I told you that no one can come to Me unless it is given to him from My Father” (6:65). And against the background of this positive statement, the same thought sounds sad and even scary, albeit in a negative form, when applied to Judas: “Have I not chosen you twelve? but one of you is the devil. He spoke of Judas Iscariot, for he had (ἔμελλεν) to betray Him, being one of the twelve” (6:70). He chose the devil: such is the mystery of this predestination of Judas, whatever it may be in its entirety. 30 This fate is fulfilled in chapter 13. Here, once again and directly, Christ confirms the idea of ​​Judas’s predestination: “I do not say about all of you: I know them whom I have chosen.” This general knowledge is also confirmed by the weather forecasters by the direct prediction of the Lord about the renunciation of the apostle. Peter and about His abandonment by the other apostles, as well as about the betrayal of Judas. Here it is still combined with Peter’s assurances to the contrary, although they were not justified: Matt. 26:31, 33–35, 69, 75; Mr. 14:27–31, 66–72; OK. 22:33, 34, 54–62. Christ further continues the prophecy about Judas: “But let the scripture be fulfilled: “He who eats bread with Me has lifted up his heel against Me” (Ps. 40.10). Now I tell you before it happens, so that when it happens, you may believe that it is I” (Jn. 13:18, 19). In addition to all this evidence of Judas’s predestination to betrayal, one might say his doom, the Fourth Gospel characteristically lacks all other specific features of the event that the weather forecasters have (cf., however, 18:2–5). But once again the pre-establishment that takes place is emphasized, even as if without a direct narrative necessity: “Jesus, knowing everything that would happen to Him, went out and said...” (John 18:4). This fate is only a particular example to confirm the idea of ​​a general predestination not only to the destruction of the “son of perdition”, “that the Scripture may be fulfilled (Psalm 109:17)...” (John 17.12; 18:9), but also to salvation in other cases. This is exactly what Christ says in the Eucharistic speech: “Everything that the Father gives Me will come to Me, and whoever comes to Me I will not cast out. For I came down from heaven not to do My own will, but the will of the Father who sent Me. This is the will of Him who sent Me, that of all that He has given Me I should not destroy anything, but should resurrect it all on the last day. This is the will of Him who sent me, that whoever sees the Son and believes in Him may have eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day” (6:37–40). But even these repetitions, usual for John, are still not enough for him, because once again he confirms: “No one can come to Me unless the Father who sent Me draws him, and I will raise him up on the last day. The prophets write: “and they will all be taught by God.” Everyone who has heard from the Father and learned comes to Me (Isaiah 54:13)” (John 6:44, 45). The same thought is repeated in the speech in the church, in the porch of Solomon, on the feast of renewal (10:23): “I give to them (My sheep) eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of My hand; The Father who gave Me (them) is greater than all, and no one can snatch them out of My Father’s hand. I and the Father are one” (28–30). And this same thought about the will of the Father, who gave the Son disciples, is solemnly confirmed at the end of His ministry, in the high priestly prayer: “I have revealed Your Name to the people whom You gave Me, and they have kept Your word. Now they have understood that everything that You have given Me is from You. For the words that You gave Me I gave to them, and they received and understood truly that I came from You, and they believed that You sent Me. I pray for them: I do not pray for the whole world, but for those whom You have given Me, for they are Yours, and all Mine is Yours, and I am glorified in them” (17:6-10). We have already talked about the relationship that exists between this word of Christ about the glorification of the disciples in their otherworldliness and those external circumstances when it was said on the eve of their abandonment of their Teacher by fear for the sake of the Jews. And it is remarkable that this latter is spoken of not only by the weather forecasters, but also by the fourth evangelist in the story of the Last Supper, at which, or in connection with which, a farewell conversation and high priestly prayer took place (13:17, 18; 16:32), as well as in the story of the night of the taking of Christ (18:15-18, 24-27; 19.25). This relationship between the two narratives, as mentioned above, can only be understood from the perspective of two plans: the earthly, empirical, historical course of events, as the path of the disciples to their spiritual maturity, and its very achievement, the onset of the fullness of the apostleship. This is what is spoken about in the High Priestly Prayer of Christ as about their sanctification and dedication by the Heavenly High Priest: “Sanctify them in Thy truth, Thy word is truth. As You sent Me into the world, so I sent them into the world. And for their sake I will sanctify Myself, so that they also may be sanctified by the truth” (John 17:17–19). The main idea about the providential action of God in the world is the irresistibility of God’s calling for those who are called, and this calling comes from the Father and is accomplished through the Son. At the same time, such a calling is the only way to turn to God. Here, with great insistence, which we do not see to such an extent among the weather forecasters, the idea is expressed that “a person cannot take on anything unless it is given to him from heaven” (3:27). (Words of John the Baptist in relation to ministry). And this also includes the words of Christ (in the Eucharistic conversation) about the calling of man from God, as having the character of irresistibility: “everything that the Father gives Me will come to Me, and the one who comes to Me I will not cast out” (6:37). The same thought is repeated below in an eschatological context: “This is the will of Him who sent Me, that of what He has given Me I should destroy nothing, but raise it all up on the last day” (40). A similar thought about predestination is expressed by the Evangelist himself in the same chapter according to the direction of Christ’s words: “but there are some of you who do not believe...” The Evangelist continues on his own behalf: “for Jesus knew from the beginning who the unbelievers were and who would betray Him. And he said: “For this reason (and) I told you that no one can come to Me unless (it) is given to him from My Father” (65). The same thought is expressed in the conversation about the shepherd and the sheep, ch. 10:29, 30: “My Father who gave Me (their sheep) is greater than all, and no one can snatch them out of My Father’s hand. I and the Father are one.” These words concerning those chosen and given to Christ by the Father are given the greatest strength precisely by this last testimony of the unity of the Father and the Son. This thought in the high priestly prayer applies not only to the elect, but also to all flesh: “Thou hast given Him authority over all flesh (έξ ουσίαν πάσης σαρκός), that He may give eternal life to all that Thou hast given Him” (17:2). “I have revealed Your Name to the people whom You gave Me out of the world. They were Yours, and You gave them to Me, and they kept Your Word.” “Now they have understood that everything that You have given Me is from You” (17:7). “I pray for them, not for the whole world, but for those whom You have given Me, for they are Yours, and all Mine is Yours, and Yours is Mine, and I am glorified in them” (17:7–9). “While I was yet in the world, I kept them in Your Name; those whom You gave Me I have preserved, and none of them perished except the son of perdition, that the Scripture might be fulfilled (Ps. 109:8,17)” (John 17:12). “Father! whom You have given Me, I want them to be with Me where I am, so that they may see My glory, which You have given Me, because You loved Me before the foundation of the world” (17:29). The idea of ​​predestination of the disciples chosen or given to Christ by the Father, sharply expressed in these texts, which also receives negative confirmation in the predetermined fate of Judas (3.18; 17.2), contains undoubted dogmatic difficulties for understanding. Can it be understood in the sense of the teaching of the Apostle Paul about predestination (Rom. 8), the calling and justification of the elect, with all the difficulty in interpretation and ambiguity of this text? Can it, further, be taken in the sense of Augustinian pre-destinationism, which tries unsuccessfully to soften Catholic theology in Thomism? Or, finally, should we follow Calvin and Puritan determinism to the end in this direction? Obviously, such pre-destinationism is not in keeping with the entire spirit of the Gospel of love. In addition, he does not put up with its text, since the power of Christ extends to “all flesh” in the High Priestly conversation: “that He may give eternal life to everything that You have given Him.” It turns out, as it were, several concentrations: on the one hand, those whom the Heavenly Father “gave” to Christ in His earthly ministry stand out, but at the same time they are included in a larger circle - “all flesh” that receives salvation from Him (in particular, the same antinomy can be applied to the “son of perdition,” Judas). It is, of course, impossible to accept Calvinistic pre-destinationism on the basis of the Fourth Gospel, just as in general it does not fit into Christian eschatology at all. It remains to look for a dogmatic explanation for the still indisputable fact that it affirms with particular force the deliberateness of election or rejection, as an action of the Providence of God, the will of the Father, manifested in the world. As such, it is immutable and irresistible, since it manifests itself as the omnipotence of God. The only question is whether human action is completely absorbed by this action of God, and whether the divine-human synergism is eliminated, the consequence of which is fatalism? Or does what is contained in the entire New (and in the Old) Testament, in particular in the Synoptics, retain all its power, and can only be understood in the sense of synergy with the recognition of human freedom, albeit relative and limited? We have a similar question in application to the interpretation of the corresponding teaching of St. Paul to Rome. 8:29, 30 and ch. 9, which has received so many different interpretations in the history of exegetes, from healthy synergy to extreme determinism. Taking into account the whole meaning of context, which is characteristic of the Fourth Gospel in general, and this feature of pre-destinationism, we must interpret it restrictively, as a deliberately one-sided dogmatic stylization. Namely, to the extent that it is generally characteristic of him to depict the divine side of earthly accomplishments in their eternal, divine plan, this also applies to this case. Divine givenness is combined with human givenness in created freedom and the correspondence between one and the other, which constitutes the very basis of synergy, and at the same time the secret of the wisdom of God's Providence. In the divine-humanity of creation there cannot be and there is no such accomplishment of the divine that would not also be human. But it is also possible to focus primarily on the presentation of each of these two sides of the subject, and in the theological Gospel this is precisely the divine side. In this sense, in the general theological context, it remains for us to understand and accept its individual texts, not only where this does not cause difficulties, but even where fatalistic pre-destinationism seems to be more consistent with the literal text, however, contradicting the entire general context of the Gospels. 7. Mariology in the Fourth Gospel. In relation to the Mother of God in the Fourth Gospel, the main features of its presentation are especially clearly manifested: in the absence of repetitions of what is said by other evangelists, the deliberateness of what they convey. It has the character of intimacy, stemming from the special connection between the beloved disciple and the Mother of God and its symbolic ambiguity, with absolutely exceptional brevity, and therefore even greater weight of the narrative. Strictly speaking, the entire Mariological material of the Fourth Gospel is exhausted by two narratives: about the miracle in Cana of Galilee and about the standing of the Mother of God at the Cross (to this is added a mention, in its kind, however, also the only one, about Her presence among the disciples accompanied by Christ to Capernaum (2:12). But this short material has absolutely exceptional Mariological and ecclesiological significance. The miracle at Cana is the first of the miraculous signs of Christ, the “beginning of signs,” ἀρχήν τῶν σημείων, and we must understand it precisely in this capacity, not only as the first, but also as a beginning, thereby having the features of universal validity for everyone. In it, Christ reveals Himself to the world: “showing His glory,” ἐφανέρωσεν τήν δόξαν, which is not said in any of the other signs, except the last one, the resurrection of Lazarus. “This sickness does not lead to death, but to the glory of God, that through it the Son of God may be glorified” (11:4). But here, too, we are not talking about the manifestation of Glory, but only about glorification, which is, of course, not the same thing. Exegetes also dwell on the physical side of this miracle, 31 which, however, has primarily a symbolic meaning. Only the fourth evangelist has it, while others generally lack the very motive of marriage (except for the parable of the 12 virgins). Here, without much explanation, the presence of the Mother of Jesus is especially emphasized: “there was a marriage... The Mother of Jesus was there” (2:1), and even the invitation of Christ and His disciples is timed to coincide with this Her presence: “Jesus and His disciples were also invited to the wedding,” and in general She is the leader in the event: She addresses first the Son, and then the servants who carry out Her will, just like Jesus Himself. What draws attention here is, first of all, the Son’s address to Her: “Woman!” It is also repeated on the cross, and thus is the only name for Her in His addresses to Her in the Fourth Gospel. This one word already transfers the thought from an external event - a modest and even poor wedding in the atmosphere of rural life - to the internal accomplishment that takes place here. This appeal, as if depersonalizing the relationship between the Son and Mother, actually elevates them to a higher meaning and generalizes them to the utmost, receiving a Mariological and sophiological meaning. Humanity comes from the hands of the Creator in a dual form, as male and female, husband and wife. Such is its fullness, which has its basis in the dyad of the Son and the Holy Spirit. Christ the God-man is male, but He is born from the seed of a Woman, according to the prophecy of God in paradise. She is the Woman about whom the ancient serpent was told that the seed of the Woman would erase the head of the serpent. This wife is the Mother of God, and she is also the woman who, with her presence, sanctified the marriage in Cana of Galilee. This Wife is the Church of Christ, who celebrates her spiritual marriage with Christ, the Bridegroom - according to His name in the mouth of the Forerunner (John 3:29). The language of the Apocalypse about the marriage of the Lamb, His wedding supper (Rev. 19:9) and His Bride (21:9) also corresponds to this. Thus, the whole event takes on the meaning of the image of the Church, its sign. This same meaning is revealed in the same sense and from the other side: namely, the Eucharistic one, for the transformation of water in large water pots into wine, moreover, better than what was previously served (i.e. in the Old Testament), is a Eucharistic transformation. In Eucharistic theology, especially Catholic, and under its influence also in Orthodox, the attention of exegetes focuses precisely on the physical transformation of “substance” without changing “accidents”, “under appearance”. The interpreters of the miracle at Cana also focus on this. But just as in the Eucharist one must see not a physical transformation, but a metaphysical transformation, so in Cana it was precisely the transformation that took place, as an image of the coming Eucharist. It is precisely this ecclesiological character of the first miracle, in the universality of its meaning, that makes it the beginning of the signs in which Jesus revealed His glory. Glory refers to the fullness of accomplishment, which is accompanied by His Theanthropic revelation in the sophia of all creation in His humanity. Based on this general understanding, its individual features should be interpreted. First of all, Christ’s first answer, which at first seems like a refusal: “My hour has not yet come.” But we know what “My hour” means in the language of John: 32 it refers to the onset of the passion, in which the Eucharistic sacrifice is performed. Their hour had not yet come to completion, but it had already approached in anticipation, like “the beginning of signs.” And in this sense, his understanding is confirmed by the Mother of God, who, as if contrary to the direct meaning of the answer, namely, the refusal contained in it, calls on the ministers to do what He says, and these commands relate to the wedding celebration of the Eucharistic meal. The architriclinus calls the groom to witness the completed marriage. The specific images of the wedding feast here merge and become transparent regarding the mystical content of what is happening. The direct participation of the Mother of God in the Eucharist deserves special attention here, as this corresponds to its church celebration. In the image of the wedding feast we also have the image of the Church in its entire composition: the Mother of God, the apostles, the wedding guests: the architriclin, the couple themselves, the servants and invitees, gathered around Christ, who performs the mysterious transformation of water into wine. The Mother of God is an intercessor for people and a mediator before Christ. In this regard, one can understand Her especially emphasized presence at the marriage as a precondition for the incarnation itself. “And the Mother of Jesus was there” (2:1), as if not even “called” like Jesus and His disciples, but already participating in it from the beginning. This implies the Annunciation, and the seedless conception, and the Nativity of Christ from the Virgin, and all of Her service to Him and the Church. In the absence of a narrative about the birth and childhood of Christ, Her first appearance in the Fourth Gospel is associated with this symbolism of the Church. This ecclesiological meaning of the narrative ends with a kind of historical addition, where the name of the Mother of God and Her presence are once again mentioned: “After this He came to Capernaum, Himself and His Mother, and His brothers, and His disciples, and they stayed there a few days” (2.12). Other evangelists make no mention at all of the Mother (and brothers) accompanying Jesus. One can quickly draw even the opposite conclusion from Matt. 12:46–50, where Christ seems to deny blood kinship for the sake of spiritual kinship. From this comparison one can see further confirmation of the ecclesiological interpretation of John. 2:11. Another feature of this narrative deserves attention. How did the evangelist know everything that happened between Christ and His Mother at the wedding? One can, of course, assume that he, along with the other apostles, was not only an eyewitness to what happened, but also heard His Mother’s appeal to Christ, along with His response (although this does not have direct confirmation for itself, moreover, in the absence of a story about this from other evangelists). And isn’t it more plausible to assume that John learned all this directly from the Mother of God Herself, and this confirms the deliberate Mother of God character of the Fourth Gospel? The miracle in Cana of Galilee belongs to that Theotokos tradition, which was naturally deposited in John’s communication with Her. Of course, along with this, the possibility cannot be excluded that this was told to John directly from the Teacher himself, although this, in any case, does not exclude the tradition coming from the Mother of God. We have the second and last mention of the Mother of God in the story of the standing of the Mother of God at the cross. In the parallel listing of women at or near the cross there is no mention of the presence of the Mother of God. In a characteristic way, it is found only in John in his Gospel of the Mother of God. Here Her name also stands among others: “His Mother’s sister Mary of Cleopas and Mary Magdalene” (19:25), the first was the mother of the sons of Zebedee, therefore, John himself, and also the sister of the Mother of Jesus (so John was also related to the Mother of God, was Her nephew). So, standing at the cross, along with John, was his own mother, and all the more expressive and significant were the words of Christ, next to his own blood mother, handing it over to His Mother, as if in a new spiritual birth, churching: “Jesus, seeing the Mother and the disciple standing here, whom he loved, says to His Mother: Woman! Behold, Your son. Then he says to the disciple: Behold, your Mother. And from that time on, this disciple took Her to himself, είς τὰ ἴδια'’ (19:26, 27). The first and immediate meaning of this story relates to the expression of personal love and care for the Mother, whom He entrusts, as it were, to the filial care of the beloved disciple (and thereby crowns him before all the other apostles, not excluding the supreme leader, who, moreover, do not seem to be present). And this is not so much the combination of this dual motherhood of two mothers, Mary and Solomia, but, on the contrary, its opposition and division. This is silently offered to the natural mother and, obviously, is accepted by her without complaint (even after the death of Christ she remains faithful to Him, “looking from afar” (Matthew 27:55). Christ first sees His mother in Mary together with his beloved disciple and turns to them. However, this address itself sounds special: this is the “Wife” that was said at the marriage in Cana of Galilee: two church marriages. It is impossible to see the full depth and significance of this “Woman”, here as well as there, but its basic meaning in both cases is the same: “Wife” means the Church, the Mother of God as the heart and focus of the Church, Her personal beginning. As such, She is the Mother of the Church, by whom the Church’s beloved disciple is adopted. These words, of course, remained burned into the memory of both the son and the Mother; they are the very core of the Mother of God Gospel, which is contained here in these few words. These words mean, as it were, the consecration of Mary to the dignity of the Church, through the mysterious invocation of the Holy Spirit, who originally descended on Her at the Annunciation as the Mother of God, and now carries out Her ecclesiasticalization - the sacrament of the pan-Church Mother of God. The adoption of John by the Mother of God is primarily related to him personally, as the first in the love of Christ, but it, of course, extends with him to all who love Christ and believe in Him. In the very brevity of the words, along with the depth of meaning, one recognizes the trait of the Great Silent Woman with Her humility. She herself remains silent at the cross, silent in response to the word of the Son. But this silence is more expressive, stronger, more meaningful than any words, for it expresses the greatest thing: Mary, the Mother of Christ, becomes the Mother of the Church. As such, She is also present at the general church service on Pentecost, at the descent of the Holy Spirit, among the disciples (the only mention of Her is in the Acts of the Apostles 1:14). All the ecclesiological images of the “Wife” and “Bride” in Revelation beg for comparison; they are all consonant with this Gospel word, it contains: the images of the Woman clothed with the sun (Rev. 12:1), the Church militant, and the Woman who prepared Herself for the marriage of the Lamb (19:7), with the final image of the Wife and Bride of the Lamb (21.9). These two texts exhaust the entire Mariological content of the Theotokos Gospel. This is not much in terms of external quantity, but immeasurably much in importance and content. 8. Miracles of Christ in the Fourth Gospel. The accounts of miracles in the Fourth Gospel differ from the synoptic ones both in number and in character: most of the synoptic miracles are missing, even such as the resurrection of Jairus’s daughter and the centurion’s son from the dead, the walking on the waters and, most interestingly, the casting out of demons and the healing of the possessed. The choice of miracles in the Gospel of John is determined partly by his usual motive of supplementing miracles that were absent from other evangelists (coincidences and repetitions can be found only in one case - the miraculous feeding of 5000 people), but mainly for the sake of the special symbolic and dogmatic meaning of this narrative. Therefore, in most cases they are “signs”, σημεία, i.e. dogmatic emblems, cryptograms, symbols. In general, a sign combines the double meaning of a miracle and a sign. Only the healing of the paralytic is not called a sign (it is spoken of in the general context of “works”, ἔργα: 5:36; 7.21). The miracle in Cana of Galilee is the “beginning of signs”, ἀρχήν τῶν σημείων, the healing of the courtier’s son is the “second sign”, although it is the commemorative nature of this miracle that is most difficult to establish, except for the general evidence of the effectiveness of the word of the Wonderworker. The feeding of 5,000 people is also called a sign (6:14), as well as the healing of a man born blind (9:16), as well as the most amazing miracle - the raising of Lazarus, which is recognized as such - among the “many signs”, πολλά σημεία - even by the enemies of Jesus. Almost every one of the six miracles reported in the Fourth Gospel is at once a narrative of an event and at the same time a dogmatic emblem. Such is the miracle at Cana (see above), the miraculous feeding (see below), the healing of the paralytic (with the subsequent teaching about the works of God, chapter 5); healing of a man born blind (with teaching about the light of Christ), raising of Lazarus. Each of these narratives has its own special features, in some cases the narrative prevails over the teaching and allegory, in others, vice versa. For exegetes, the question also arises about the internal and external convincingness of each of the miracles. 33 For us, this question does not exist as such, because we are primarily studying their dogmatic understanding. The dogmatic meaning of each of the miracles is not the same. Here, of course, in the first place, the miracle at Cana stands out in its ecclesiological significance, the miraculous saturation (note that here, although in the actual presentation its Fourth Gospel coincides in general terms with the synoptic ones, the doctrine of the Eucharist is added to it) and the miracle of the resurrection of Lazarus, as a general resurrection,” before the passion of Christ, “assurance.” Three healings: the son of a courtier, the paralytic and the one born blind - do not have such dogmatic significance and are rather included in the general framework of the historical narrative, like John’s completion. In general, all six of John’s signs are woven with great difficulty into the general context of the Gospel events, as they are presented by the weather forecasters, perhaps except for the first and last in the sense of sequence. However, even for them it is difficult to indicate the exact location within the synoptic history. The fourth evangelist does not even seem to care about responsibility to the chronological context, clearly giving preference to the interests of his dogmatic rhapsody. His great historical responsibility manifests itself only in chapters 18–19, in the narrative of the passion of Christ: he fills this with his own features, moreover, very important ones, mainly also of dogmatic significance. The last chapters 20 and 21, especially the epilogue of chapter 21, are presented regardless of the weather forecasters. Of the chapters devoted to miracles, here we will focus only on chapters 6 and 11. Chapter 6 in the first part contains a story about the miraculous feeding of 5,000 people with 5 barley loaves and 2 fish, which is available to all four evangelists, in connection with subsequent events (the departure of the boats to Capernaum, the procession of Jesus on the waters and the new meeting of the disciples with Him in Capernaum). This meeting is the occasion for a conversation between the Lord and the people, which contains Eucharistic theology... Despite the coincidence with the weather forecasters in the very fact of the miraculous saturation of the people, the Fourth Gospel differs from them precisely in this speech, which is completely absent from them. In turn, John does not have a story about the establishment of the sacrament of the Eucharist, as well as about the Lord himself performing it. About the latter, in chapter 13, only individual features are retained in the general frame of the story, in particular the piece of bread given to Judas, but it remains unclear what exactly the nature of this bread was (see 13.26, 27). If we did not have a direct narrative about this from the weather forecasters, then we could not even conclude with confidence that chapter 13 is about the establishment of the Eucharist. However, in this case, even more than in others, the context of the four gospels is decisive in the sense that 13:1-30, like the synoptic narratives, refer to the same event, which is also testified to by St. Paul: I. Cor. 11:23–26. Although he was not present there, he “received it from the Lord himself,” and of course the witness of the event, the beloved disciple reclining on the chest of Jesus, accepted it... Eucharistic theology in the Capernaum speech of the Lord in its presentation is intertwined with several digressions to the side (in accordance with the general Johannine style). It has, as its main premise, the dogma of incarnation, the incarnation of the Lord. Its dialectics is revealed in relation to two poles: the life of the world in human flesh and eternal life in God, which is inseparably united in Christ with human life. The Lord proceeds from the following contrast: “do not strive for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures to eternal life, which the Son of Man gives you, for the Father God has sealed Him” (6:27). This same opposition between perishable and eternal food is revealed further. Christ's listeners are sincerely perplexed about what new food for eternal life He is talking about, when they know it only in one form, manna. Precisely, they ask, “our fathers ate manna in the wilderness, as it is written: “He gave them bread from heaven to eat” (Ps. 77:24). Jesus said to them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, Moses did not give you the bread from heaven, but My Father gives you the true bread from heaven. For this is the bread of God which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world” (6:31-33). And when naturally perplexed listeners turn to Him with a naive and carnally selfish request: “Lord, always give us such bread” (6:34), obviously under the impression and with the memory of their recent miraculous feeding, then they receive the following answer: “I am the bread of life; whoever comes to Me will never hunger, and whoever believes in Me will never thirst” (6:34, 35). What follows is a retreat to the side, albeit in the development of the thought of Christ as the bread of life, in His connection with the Father, for it is impossible to understand and accept Christ outside of this connection (6:27-40). Here the revelation of the Father's will is immediately taken to its extreme, precisely as the promise of resurrection. But the Jews do not seem to hear, or do not yet accept this new revelation. The previous word of Christ about the bread of life resounds in their souls, and with impatient bewilderment they ask further about it: “The Jews murmured against Him because He said: “I am the bread that came down from heaven,” when He is the son of Joseph, and we also know His Mother” (6:41-43). It is difficult for the carnal mind to comprehend spiritual truths, and it is not for us to strictly judge them for this. In His answer, the Lord first (6:43–46) confirms His connection with the Father (see above), and then returns again to the topic of the Eucharistic and solemnly (“Truly, truly, I say to you”) confirms and explains what was said: “Whoever believes in Me has eternal life. I am the bread of life that came down from heaven; Whoever eats this bread will live forever, and the bread that I will give is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world” (6:47-51). In developing the thought of bread coming down from heaven, there is added a dialectically polar definition of the Flesh of Christ, as bread itself. Here a double orientation is introduced: by the power of the Incarnation, the flesh of Christ appears to have descended from heaven, but it is also the flesh of the Eucharistic transfiguration, which is given to those receiving communion. But further revelation of this thought, as one would expect, only causes new bewilderment and irritation in the listeners: “The Jews began to argue among themselves, saying: How can He give us His flesh to eat?” (6:52). They really could argue here, because there was a reason: is it easy for the carnal mind to accommodate the thought of the mysterious eating of the Flesh of Christ. After all, the disciples found themselves in front of this not even a teaching, but the very accomplishment, at the Last Supper, when they received the Holy Mysteries, like bread and wine, from the hands of the Lord standing before them in the flesh, uttering the assuring words: “Take, eat, this is My body... drink from it, all of you, this is My blood.” Even if they could then be perplexed about the meaning of this accomplishment, its power was revealed to them as overwhelming. But in the conversation of Capernaum they only heard the teaching, before the actual accomplishment; Therefore, only among the elect, in particular in the soul of the beloved disciple, these mysterious words were deposited as the seed of the future Eucharistic theology, which he was called to reveal in his Gospel already at the end of his life. Christ further testifies to this saving power of the Incarnation in the Eucharistic union with Him: “He who eats My Flesh and drinks My Blood abides in Me and I in Him” (6:54–57). And then the thought of the unity of the Son with the Father is repeated once again (in John’s style): “just as the living Father sent Me, so I live by the Father, so he who comes after Me will live by Me” (6.57). The Incarnation has the power of uniting the divine and human principles in a single life in Christ; this same union is also carried out Eucharistically, through the eating of the Flesh of Christ, which already carries within itself this union of natures (according to the dogma of Chalcedon). This is precisely what contains, as in grain, the divinely inspired word of the Prologue: “And the Word became flesh and dwelt in us.” The beloved disciple of Christ carried this truth within himself and was aware of it, obviously even then, when His listeners—some were tempted and indignantly murmured: “What strange words, and who can listen to this” (6:60, 66), and even moved away from Him, others only remained embarrassedly silent. And even in what was handed down to us by the synoptic evangelists, the Eucharistic accomplishment is also depicted only as an event, without any attempt at its internal revelation. The latter awaited an evangelist-theologian who would recall in him the explanatory words of Christ. Let us even assume that they were conveyed to them in their own presentation, but the fundamental truth that was announced to the disciples was preserved in it. It took spiritual insight even for John to come close to understanding this teaching. The Lord Himself said at the end of His conversation: “The Spirit gives life, but does not profit the flesh in the least; The words that I speak to you are spirit and life” (6:63). And this is no longer the end, but only the beginning of that spiritual rebirth that lay ahead of the disciples, and that comprehension that they still had to embrace: “Is this tempting you? what if you see the Son of Man ascending (to where He was before)” (6:61, 62). The last of the signs of Christ's miracles, the greatest and most significant, was, of course, the resurrection of Lazarus, after which the working of miracles ceased altogether. However, all the evangelists, not excluding the fourth, also have a story about Peter cutting off the ear of a servant, whose name, according to John, was Malchus (18:10, 11). The Lord healed him with a touch (Luke 22:51). However, in John this detail of the capture of Christ is not only not included among the signs, but is even absent altogether and does not violate the general account of signs. We have already spoken above about the unique depiction of the miracle of the resurrection of Lazarus, even in the Fourth Gospel. First of all, it should be especially noted that it is transposed into a transparent dogmatic scheme, although the amazing vitality of the narrative does not suffer from this schematism. The dialectic of the idea of ​​incarnation, with the polarity of the divine and human principles, united in a single God-man, is also revealed here with particular force and represents the general historical and dogmatic background of this event. 34 The story, already in the introduction, is marked by a special warmth of humanity; it is in it that the special personal closeness of Christ to Lazarus and his sisters, His “love” for them is indicated (this generally cannot be found in parallel in the Gospels, with the only exception in the person of the disciple, “his own beloved Jesus,” to which there is evidence only in his own Gospel). Mary’s special closeness is marked by the mention (11:2) that it was she who anointed the Savior’s feet, moreover, this is given even earlier than the very narration of this in the Gospel (12:1-3). Stories about the anointing of the Lord with myrrh in Bethany in the house of Simon the leper according to Matt. 26:6, 7 and Mr. 14:3 ~ (here we must include the anointing of Christ by the sinner’s wife in the house of Simon the Pharisee Luke 7:37–50) are invariably distinguished by their special captivating and touching quality, but none of the synoptics speaks of the personal friendship that united the Lord with Mary, who anointed Him. The latter can be identified with Mary Magdalene, and her meeting with the Risen One is again told only in the Fourth Gospel (20:1, 12–18). Wed, however, Mr. 16:1–8, Matt. 28:1, Luke. 24:1–10. The brevity and dryness of the weather forecasters make us feel even more strongly the exceptional warmth and significance of the beloved disciple’s story: here Mary twice, first from the angels, then from Christ himself, hears: woman! that is, that solemn appeal that from the lips of the Savior in all its significance was addressed to Preev. The Mother of God, and twice: at the wedding supper in Cana of Galilee and from the cross. Mary, thus, here is the representative of the Church in her feminine nature, along with and together with the Mother of God (although, of course, not in the same power). However, Christ, after this super-personal, but also non-personal wife, addresses her with her personal name: Mary, to which she responds with all the fiery power of a loving heart. These features of John’s narrative immediately introduce us to the atmosphere of that exceptional personal shock in which the Teacher himself, along with Lazarus’s relatives, found himself. And this tension is, as it were, still supported by His deliberate slowness, with which He postpones His path to Bethany until the death of Lazarus, known to the Seer, occurs (11:14); only then does He go there. But earlier it testifies that “this illness is not for death, but for the glory of God, that through it the Son of Man may be glorified” (11:4), and “I rejoice for you,” the Lord adds, turning to His disciples, “that I was not there, that you might believe” (11:15). “Glory” and glorification in this context do not refer to the appearance of the Divine Sophia (as is clear in the farewell conversation), but only to the human glorification and comprehension of Christ on the part of His disciples: “so that you may believe.” What follows is a description of Christ's meeting with both sisters, also taking place in an atmosphere of growing tension and mournful excitement. Both sisters, first Martha and then Mary, say the same thing: “Lord! If You had been here, my brother would not have died” (11:32). Their faith is not shaken and does not need strengthening: “but even now I know that whatever You ask, God will give You” (11:22). However, she too is perplexed as to why this did not happen, and why her Friend and Teacher are absent. In response to Mary, the Lord immediately reveals the full power and significance of the upcoming sign, like the coming general resurrection. Such an interpretation was not given by Christ to both resurrections reported in the Synoptic Gospels (of Jairus’s daughter and the widow’s son); they obviously belong to the total number of miracles, Old and New Testament, performed by prophets and saints by the power of God. Here it is not that, but something completely different: here the universal Resurreator Himself resurrects Lazarus. He turns to Martha with such assurance, in the light of which this particular case receives the meaning of a general “certification” (troparion of Lazarus Saturday: “assuring the general resurrection before your passion, you raised Lazarus from the dead, O Christ God”). This thought is revealed with deliberate clarity: “Jesus says to her: Your brother will rise again. Martha said to Him, “I know that He will rise again on the resurrection, on the last day.” It speaks here of the still unenlightened, vague Jewish faith and hope, which, however, are powerless to give an answer in the face of the death of Lazarus and to console the mourners. “Jesus said to her: I am the resurrection and the life: he who believes in Me, even if he dies, will live. And everyone who lives and believes in Me will never die. Do you believe this? (11:25, 26). What does Martha hear in this question and how does she answer it? The power of these words of Christ immeasurably surpasses the particular question of the death of Lazarus, raising it to the general foundations of life, death and resurrection. Martha turned out to be worthy of the love of Christ; She, in all her grief, heard the joyful gospel spoken to her, and responded to it: “She said to Him: So, Lord! I believe that You are the Christ, the Son of God, who comes into the world” (11:27). We know that among the Synoptics such a confession on behalf of all the apostles was pronounced only by the Apostle Peter (Matthew 16:16, Mark 8:29, Luke 9:20, cf. Matt. 14:33), and Christ solemnly confirms this confession as one that was not revealed to Him by flesh and blood, but by the Heavenly Father himself (Matthew 16:17); on this faith the Church of Christ is established as on a rock (16:18, 19). Such a confession, of course, against their will, came out of the mouths of demons, obviously due to their spiritual knowledge: “the demons also came out from many, shouting and saying: You are the Christ, the Son of God. And He forbade them to say that they knew that He was the Christ” (Luke 4:41). – The value was so different, as was the very nature of this confession between Peter and the demons. In the Gospel of John we have another particular case of such a confession, in addition to the general testimony of John the Baptist about Christ (1:34), it is precisely this that comes out, even despite the initial doubt, from the lips of Nathanael: “Rabbi! You are the Son of God, You are the King of Israel” (1:49), in response to the insight of Jesus revealed to him. Similar to this is another case of the confession of Christ as the Son of God, which was caused by Christ himself, who asked the man born blind who had received his sight: “Do you believe in the Son of God? He answered and said: And who is He, that I should believe in Him? Jesus said to him: And you saw Him; and He speaks to you. He said: I believe, Lord” (9. 35-38). However, these confessions are not raised from this particular case to the comprehension of its general significance for the world, as is the case with Peter on the one hand, and with Martha on the other. After this, Martha brought Mary the good news of the coming of the Lord and called her “secretly”: “The Teacher is here and is calling you” (11:28). The Gospel does not directly speak about this call. It's obviously implied. However, if this is so, then we can assume that this call also included the gospel of Christ about Himself, which Martha had just heard and accepted. However, Mary’s grief possessed her, which was expressed in the same appeal to Christ as her sisters (11:32), and this grief of hers, shared by the crying Jews who came with her, found a response in the soul of the Lord himself: “and he himself was grieved in spirit and troubled” 35 (11:33) and “teared” 36 (11:35). “Tribulation inwardly comes to the grave” (11:39). Here we approach the central point of the story, a certain miracle of the gospel narrative. In fact, here it is necessary to tell about something unknown to man, namely about what happens in the soul of the God-man, moreover, in a state of the greatest tension of humanity, sorrow and excitement, which remain not diminished in strength and authenticity as a result of the incarnation (despite all kinds of docetism, which the fourth evangelist invariably fights openly and silently: the true God and the true man). No alternation of natures can be allowed here (as we have, unfortunately, in the liturgical texts of this day), because this would mean a “non-Storian” division of them under him. Meanwhile, here it is acceptable and permissible to accept only the kenosis of the deity: “he humbled himself, he accepted the form of a servant... he humbled himself” (Phil. 2:7, 8). But this kenosis presupposes the whole realism of the Incarnation in relation to the survival of the human element in full, in addition to any diminution. But this fullness also includes the power of compassion, as well as one’s own human suffering, physical and mental, which is manifested in Gethsemane and on the cross even to death. And this belittlement of Christ’s kenosis in the union of two natures, divine and human, cannot also be allowed in the sense that it took place through the Theanthropic foreknowledge of the upcoming miracle, due to which grief itself would take on the character of some staging of a miracle, a decoration for the manifestation of divine omnipotence. On the contrary, the “inseparability and non-fusion” of both natures in Christ is neither alternation nor mutual absorption, but a mysterious and, of course, incomprehensible coexistence in all its concreteness and power. However, this incomprehensibility of the mystery of this connection not only does not exclude, but presupposes some of its accessibility for human perception. Otherwise, the duality of natures in the God-manhood of Christ would remain completely transcendental for the one-natural man, which is why the story about him, that is, in essence, the entire Holy Gospel, would be impossible. Even such facts as the confession of Peter, Martha and even Nathanael, which are still human insights into the God-manhood of Jesus, would be incomprehensible. Our entire life in Christ, spiritual and sacramental, as well as the Eucharistic union with Him, would be impossible. The God-manhood of Christ is accessible to humanity in its gracious illumination, and yet, the task of the narrator, even the Gospel, in relation to this combination of natures, becomes, of course, prohibitively, exceptionally difficult, requiring supernatural and miraculous help, revelation from God. The weather forecasters resolve it primarily from the side of His Divine nature, although, of course, both approaches do not, due to involuntary one-sidedness or stylization, become an anti-Chalcedonian perversion of dogma towards one-nature or two-hypostasis, i.e., a fusion or separation of natures. But, in addition to this general difference between the Synoptics and the Fourth Gospel, in the chapter (John 11) about the resurrection of Lazarus we have a deliberate and completely exceptional in intensity narrative about the God-manhood of Christ, its seemingly tangible manifestation, concrete evidence of the dogmatic truth of the Incarnation, announced in the Prologue: “and the Word became flesh,” not only its what, but also its how, to which, in essence, this entire Gospel is dedicated to. In the synoptic narratives about the struggle of Gethsemane, in which the transition from “let this cup pass from me” to “thy will be done,” from the mortal sorrow of the soul to the holy victory of God-obedient determination, is depicted, the divine-human path of kenosis is depicted. It continues in the exhaustion of the Cross, from “My God, He has forsaken Me” to “Father, into Your hands I commend My Spirit” (and John’s: “I am finished”). In this case, this path is also traversed, starting with the struggle of human grief, before which, kenotically silent, the divine nature humbles itself “to the face of a slave,” ending with the overcoming of kenosis through the manifestation of the divine nature. However, not in his omnipotence, for which there are no restrictions at all, but still in his kenotic connection with humanity. This inner range of God-humanity, the passage of kenosis from the lowest limit to the highest, is silently accomplished in prayer to the Father. This path itself is not shown, and, of course, cannot be shown, because this combination of natures is the secret of the life of the God-man. However, he is revealed in his strength, in his accomplishment. Here, with the wondrous chisel of the evangelist, only its individual steps are carved out: first, “Jesus shed tears” (11:35), sharing the common sorrow of those present. It continues when He, “again grieving inwardly, comes to the tomb” (11:38). Before the stone rolls away from the tomb, grief again seizes Martha with all its might: “It already stinks, for it is four days old” (11:39), but this, however, is no longer answered by a sorrowful, but by a triumphant and commanding voice: “Didn’t I tell you that if you believe, you will see the Glory of God” (11:40). But when did He tell her about this? Word or silence? Was this included in the general promise of the resurrection, or was it specifically expressed, although silent, by the evangelist? At the same time, something is happening in the God-Man himself that the evangelist can tell about only through silence, a mysterious break in the narrative, as if with an ellipsis. In a verbal or colorful artistic context, there is no emptiness here as the absence of content. On the contrary, everything is included here, previous and subsequent, that receives the positive force of special expressiveness. Christ prays to the Father as the God-man, that is, with all the prayerful intensity of holy humanity and with all the power of His Sonship of God, in the harmonious unity of both. But this prayer itself remains secret, and we learn about it only in its completion, in its power felt only by the Prayer himself, to which He testifies: “for the people standing here, so that they may believe that You have sent Me” (11:42). But this is already a prayer of thanksgiving: “Father! I thank You that You heard Me. I knew that You would always hear Me.” Nothing is said about the prayer itself in its offering and hearing, this is only evidenced. However, this hearing is not a manifestation of the omnipotence of the divine, which the God-man is kenotically stripped of, being in the “form of a slave.” It presupposes the entire path that goes from the Prayer to the Father. “Always hearing” by the Father the prayers of the God-man is evidence of the inviolability of His faith and hope, but not the power of omnipotence. “Having said this, He cried with a loud voice: Lazarus! Get out" (11:43). And this most amazing gospel miracle happened: “the dead man came out” (11:44). This is clear proof of the truth proclaimed by the Resurrector about Himself: “I am the resurrection and the life,” a preaching of the general resurrection not in word, but in deed itself. The resurrection of Lazarus, described with such stunning power and specificity, precisely as an event, is at the same time a fact of dogmatic significance that took place in the face of all those present with it, here on earth, on a certain day and hour, in a certain place, and therefore its allegorization is inappropriate. In this regard, the following dogmatic-historical question involuntarily arises: how was the resurrection of the Resurreator himself accomplished, according to the Gospel narrative, the synoptic narrative and John’s? Here all the evangelists agree in keeping silent about the event itself, having in context only what happened before and after it: death, burial, and then the rolling away of the stone by the Angel of the Lord (Matthew 28:2; Mark 16:4–6), which revealed the emptiness of the tomb (Luke 24:3) as evidence of the completed resurrection of the Lord. It was confirmed by subsequent appearances of the Risen One (described differently by different evangelists). Isn't it reasonable to expect to find the story of the resurrection of Christ in John as something similar to the resurrection of Lazarus, although incomparably more amazing? However, no, and in John we find no more: the same emptiness of the tomb, the appearance of angels followed by appearances of the Risen One, which, although they imply the completed resurrection, do not give anything to comprehend the event itself. Obviously, this absence of a narrative about the resurrection of Christ has sufficient grounds for itself. This is not the reticence of the evangelists in reporting the most important and significant accomplishment, what can be called the Gospel in the Gospels, but the impossibility and contradiction of the very task of giving such a description. This means that the resurrection of Christ remains beyond this world, it does not fit within the framework of its space and time. But at the same time, it happened for this world, and therefore not outside it, therefore it is confined to a place and time in the sense of its external designation. The Resurrection of Christ simultaneously transcends the boundaries of the present world existence, but also remains immanent to him, for it was accomplished in him and for him. It is a transcendent from the world to the supermundane, which the Lord Himself designates as the ascent “from the world to the Father.” However, it also retains a connection with the world: “I have not yet ascended to My Father” (Jn. 20:17), He said to Mary Magdalene, but “I ascend to the Father” (which is what happens in the Ascension): “And when I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw everyone to Me” (John 12:32). Then this transcendence of the Risen One will cease, because the whole world and all of the resurrected humanity will pass into the state of resurrection. That is why, where a description of the resurrection is expected, we find its absence, an expressive gesture of emptiness, testifying to the ineffability and indescribability of the resurrection of Christ. This same ongoing, transitional state is confirmed by further narratives of various evangelists about the “appearances” of the Risen One: Christ does not dwell in the world and does not live with the disciples, as it was before the resurrection, but only “appears,” however, in order to again hide in invisibility. He is not in the world, but above the world; he does not belong to it, although he appears in it. This connection with the world continues until His ascension to heaven, that is, His ascension into complete transcendence. True, here another question arises about the appearances of Christ on the Ascension: ap. Pavlou, archd. Stephen and various New Testament saints. How can we understand this in the light of the accomplished removal of Christ from the world, unless we postulate, together with Fr. Casian, the return of Christ has already taken place, as if His second coming, however, completed in addition to the transformation of the world and our “humiliated bodies according to His glorious body” (Phil. 3:21)? More precisely, in this general question it is necessary to distinguish its two meanings. The first refers specifically to the appearances of the risen and ascended Christ in this world, which we have no right to deny without shaking the truth of our faith. We do not have the opportunity to express this precisely? concepts. All that remains for us is to briefly and simply say that the phenomena of the Risen One and the Ascended One differ from each other in the degree of proximity to this world, and in the first case it is higher and more tangible not only spiritually, but also physically, than in the second. However, what exactly this “more or less” consists of, we are not trying to say. However, both those and other phenomena nevertheless become accessible to our senses: perhaps it should be said that this perceptibility of them occurs in some cases more through sensory-bodily perception, in others - through spiritual contemplation, although it also seeks for itself this latter (voice, light, vision, etc.). There is another way of communication with us of the Risen and Ascended Christ, namely the Eucharistic. It is accompanied by His genuine coming into the world in the flesh, but mysteriously (besides the contemplative image, outside of any vision, 37 which is directly opposed here), only through Eucharistic food and drink, through tasting. The Eucharistic communion testifies to the entire abiding connection of the Risen One with the world, which is preserved even when interrupted by the Ascension. But it is the Ascension in glory that gives the Glorified Body of Echoes permeability to the nature of this world. However, in the strict sense of the word, here we have not a phenomenon, but a sacrament, which, in the concept itself, is precisely the negation of the phenomenon, with the presence of its reality, but with ugliness or otherness (which is “translation”). To a similar type of Christ’s presence in the world belongs the blood and water that poured out from the side of Christ, “St. The Grail,” about which we have a narrative only in John 19:34–37. This narrative of the Fourth Gospel is the last, final feature belonging to the theology of the Incarnation: “The Word became flesh.” Accordingly, it is confirmed, “that the scripture may be fulfilled,” and by the text: “They will look at Him whom they have pierced” (Zech. 12:10). Doesn't this also indicate the sensual presence in the world of the flesh of Christ? However, the blood and water poured into the earth actually, although not metaphysically, remain inaccessible to external senses. The Fourth Gospel in the story of Christ's passion on the cross has its own characteristics that are not found in the weather forecasters. Of course, along with individual coincidences. It, as always, presupposes or implies the weather forecasters, even when it differs from them. Its general difference from them here is that it predominantly reflects the divine side of what is happening in the God-Man, in comparison with the weather forecasters, who are more focused on the humanity of Christ. This determines the choice of particulars, both absent from the Fourth Gospel and those peculiar to it alone. First of all, in In. The entire Gethsemane struggle, which occupies such a significant place among weather forecasters, is completely absent. Christ himself defines this struggle as mortal: “My soul is grieved unto death” (Matthew 26:38); “I began to feel horrified and sad. And he said to them, “My soul is sorrowful unto death” (Mark 14:33, 34), and so much so that “an angel from heaven appeared to Him and strengthened Him. And being in a struggle, He prayed more diligently, and His sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground.” (Luke 22:43, 44). All this is missing from John, while the weather forecasters are missing the entire farewell conversation. The struggle of Gethsemane, the “mortal sorrow” of Christ, corresponds to His spiritual dying, that agony that precedes and accompanies physical death. It is the elimination of the sin of the world, which has burdened the Redeemer. This spiritual dying is followed by the passion of the cross with dying on the cross, with the separation of the soul from the body, which the Lord experiences in a human way. This is expressed in the dying cry: “Either, Or!” Lama sabachthani! My God, My God! have you forsaken me forever? (Matthew 27:46; Mark 15:34), after which death follows: “he cried out again with a loud voice and gave up the ghost.” (Matthew 27:50; Mark 15:37). “Father, into Your hands I commend My spirit.” (Luke 23:46). This crosses the threshold between life and death, and the mortal struggle ceases, the peace of Sabbath in the tomb begins, with the descent into hell and the spiritual ascension to the Father: “in the grave carnally, in hell with the soul like God, in heaven with the thief, and on the throne you were with the Father and the Spirit, fulfilling everything...” In mortal anguish of the soul, the death of the God-man on the cross is accomplished. our salvation. In the narration of the weather forecasters, some other features are added to this, again relating to the humanity of the Lord: here we should especially note the whole situation of the capture and trial, the hostile mockery of Christ even at the cross, the reproach of the thieves crucified with Him (Matthew 27:44). To this ev. Luke also adds the story of the prudent thief (23:40–43), along with a mention of the Lord’s words addressed to the weeping Jewish women (27–30). In general, the whole situation makes me remember the words of Ev. Luke (4:13) that after the temptation of Christ in the wilderness, “the devil departed from Him for a time.” Now the time has come for His new and final temptation, not only through Judas, into whom Satan entered, but also through all his obedient tools, people filled with satanic malice towards Christ. All these features are absent, although implied, in John: there is no Gethsemane battle at all, but the story of the capture of Jesus immediately begins, with some details characteristic only of John. Of course, they all give the impression of an eyewitness account, preserving an undying image of events in the soul. It is worth noting here some features that also have symbolic meaning. This includes not only the conversation with Pilate about the truth and the kingdom (18:33–38), but also Pilate’s verbal gesture, the true meaning of which he himself does not understand. Namely, he brings Christ out to the Jews, dressed in a crown and scarlet robe, clothing of royal humiliation, with the words: “Behold, Man” (19:5), in a desire to evoke condescending compassion towards Him, instead of which response cries are heard: “Crucify, crucify Him.” (19:6) . But isn’t this esse homo another, but last, repetition of the truth already announced in the Prologue: “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us” (1:14), but in the form of a servant, in the clothing of humiliation, which, however, did not abolish the royal dignity of the Son of God. Pilate himself was given the opportunity to unconsciously testify to this, both in the words: “Shall I crucify your king” (19:15), and in the inscription on the cross: “King of the Jews” (19:19, 21, 22). Further, here we have another symbolic feature - the untorn nature of the unsewn woven tunic, this image of the church, which is followed by its living image in the person of the Mother of Jesus, with the adoption of Her beloved disciple, and in his person, of course, all of Christ’s humanity. Both of these features, filled with deep symbolic and dogmatic meaning, are absent from the weather forecasters, as they are absent, in turn, from John. details of the death on the cross, preserved by them. But John gives one more feature, again of deep symbolic meaning, which is absent from them: “after this, Jesus, knowing that everything had already been accomplished, that the Scripture might be fulfilled, says: I thirst. There was a vessel full of vinegar. (The soldiers) filled a sponge with vinegar and put it on hyssop, and brought it to His lips. When Jesus tasted the vinegar, he said, “It is finished.” And bowing his head, he gave up his spirit.” (19:28–30). The very mention of a sponge filled with vinegar and given to Jesus by one of the soldiers (Matthew 27:48; Mark 15:36) as a mockery of Him (Luke 23:26) is found among the weather forecasters. However, only here, in John, is it accompanied by significant words: “After this, Jesus, knowing that everything had already been accomplished, that the Scripture might be fulfilled, says: I thirst.” (19:28). First of all, what does this last reference to Scripture refer to: can it imply ps. 68:22: “And they gave me gall for food, and in my thirst they gave me vinegar to drink.” Of course, this is also possible, similar to other cases of the use of Old Testament prophecies in John. However, this interpretation here, in any case, cannot be the only one, and in general it is difficult to fit into the context, which rather requires here the most expanded understanding of “that the Scripture may be fulfilled” - as applied to the entire saving work of Christ. The words of the context speak for this: “after this Jesus, knowing that all things had already been accomplished”... After what exactly? And what is all this that has already happened? If “after that” is taken in a restrictive sense, relating it to the immediately preceding one, then it indicates the adoption of John to the Blessed Virgin, which in turn means the foundation of the New Testament Church on earth. And in a more expanded sense, this can refer to the entire content of the Gospel, which reveals the basic general truth: “and the word became flesh.” But one can understand this “having been accomplished” in a narrow sense, relating it to the passion of the cross, after which death occurs: “he said: it is finished! and bowed his head and gave up his spirit.” (19:30). Since this also corresponds to the synoptic: “Jesus cried out with a loud voice and said: Father! I commend My spirit into Your hands. And having said this, he gave up the ghost.” (Luke 23:46). But of course, this must, in any case, be understood in the broadest sense, in application to the entire matter of saving incarnation, and also in the most extensive sense - to the entire creation of the world, the limit and completion of which is achieved only through God’s forgiveness. Here again, and on the other hand, a connection can be established between “after that” and “knowing that everything has already been accomplished, Jesus...” The accomplishment, “after which” the testimony of Christ followed - “having been accomplished” - refers not only to the incarnation, but also to the Mother of God. It can be understood not only cosmologically, but also Mariologically. For we can say that the purpose of peacemaking is the appearance in it of the Most Holy Theotokos and the incarnation of Christ through it. Therefore, it is not accidental that this context of the Gospel follows: “after that” and “having been accomplished.” The story of Christ's death on the cross in the Fourth Gospel includes another mention, absent from the weather forecasters, of the breaking of the legs of those crucified, but except for Jesus, whose legs were not broken, as if he had already died. Instead, His side was pierced with a spear, “and immediately there came forth blood and water.” (19:34). We have already touched on this above. Apparently, the entire episode with the breaking of the legs is only a frame for this event (the Holy Grail), which also has a dogmatic meaning. This is followed by the burial of the Divine Dead with His position in the garden in a new tomb (19:41). 10. Appearances of the Lord after the resurrection. First of all, it should be noted that the peculiarity of the Fourth Gospel is that it (like Matthew) does not contain a narrative about the Ascension of the Lord, but ends differently, ends with the earthly appearances of Christ. Dogmatically, this, of course, cannot mean evasiveness with a belittlement of faith in the Ascension, which is sufficiently attested throughout the entire Gospel by the Lord himself. This includes the following texts: in a conversation with Nicodemus, the Lord speaks about Himself (there is less reason to attribute these words to the evangelist, 38 and not to the Lord himself): “no one has ascended into heaven except the Son of Man (who is in heaven) who came down from heaven.” (3:13). Son of Man is a messianic designation, used both by the weather forecasters and by John. The whole phrase is not constructed in relation to the sequence of the time of the ascension, which, understood as the ascension, has not yet taken place (despite the perfective form of the verb), as well as the descent from heaven. The general idea expressed here is that both are interconnected. In a conversation in Capernaum, the Lord speaks, obviously about His Ascension: “What if you see the Son of Man ascending (to) where He was before.” (6:62). This clearly refers to the idea of ​​the divine dignity of the Son of God. The absence of a story about the Ascension of the Lord is compensated by some theological indication of it, precisely in the appearance of Mary Magdalene. It refers not to the ascension that has taken place, but to the ascension that is still in progress and is expressed in the following words of the Lord: “Do not touch Me, for I have not yet ascended to My Father, but go to My brothers and tell them: I ascend to My Father and your Father and to My God and your God.” (20:17, 18). This story also contains some mysterious features. First of all, it is unclear why and in what sense Mary was forbidden to touch the Lord, which was obviously customary for her during the days of His earthly ministry. Before the resurrection of Lazarus, so recently, Mary “...fell at His feet and said...” (11:32). Such a prohibition was not applied to any other of those who sought to touch Him. 39 Even after the Resurrection in the appearance of the apostle. The Lord not only allows Thomas, but even commands him to touch Him: “Give me your hand and place it in My side.” (20:27). We will not find an indisputable explanation for this last episode and are doomed to get lost in speculation. Whether Mary’s touch itself had something inappropriate in itself, however, this is difficult to accept from the entire nature of her relationship to the Lord. Or, in the transitional state of the Risen One on the path to the Ascension, there were some obstacles to that, but they had already passed when Thomas appeared, or simply did not exist for him. To this we must further add that what is being testified here is precisely a certain state of Christ’s ascension to His Father that has not been completed, but is still taking place. Those evangelists who generally have a story about the Ascension of Christ (Mark 16:19, 20; Luke 24:50–53; D. Apostle 71:2–11) report it only as an external event. Here, in John, on the contrary, it is about internal formation, although its immediate nature is not defined. From the comparison of these two touches - Magdalene and Thomas - we conclude that we are talking about two different stages of ascension, although, however, one cannot be sure even of this, since the difference in attitude towards touch could relate not to this state of Christ’s ascension, but to the touchers themselves, Magdalene and Thomas. To separate these two episodes, placing between them the ascension that has already taken place, as well as the new, second coming of Christ into the world, as Fr. Cassian 40 seems arbitrary and unconvincing to us. In any case, here one unknown is only replaced by another. After the appearance of Christ to Magdalene in ch. 20 and 21 describe two appearances of Christ to the disciples, which have no parallel in the weather forecasters and in this sense represent a deliberate completion of their narrative. The first appearance is designated as “on that day in the evening, one of the Sabbaths” (20:19). If we understand this as a simple chronological designation of the event, then we will have to identify it with the day when the Lord appeared to Mary Magdalene at dawn, and the appearance to the disciples took place in the evening of the same day. The difficulty arises in the addition that seems unnecessary for chronological designation: τῇ ἡμερα τῆ ἐκείνη τῇ μιᾷ τών σαββάτων - on that day on one of the Saturdays (and the appearance of Mary is also precisely designated as τῇ μιᾷ τών σαββάτων - on one of the Saturdays). To this we must also add that “that day” τῇ ἡμέρα εκείνη is a mystical terminus technicus, which undoubtedly has an eschatological character, meaning the new coming of Christ in the spirit, although without a precise designation of time (cf. 14:20~εν ἐκείνη τῇἡμέρα, 16:23, 26). In any case, it does not contain it (as it does in 20:19). Therefore, here we get an exegetical duality: namely, two dates are connected, mystical and chronological, and the emphasis can be placed on both the first and the second meaning, if we do not combine them both together. According to the mystical meaning, “on that day” merges with the same expression in the farewell conversation in all its eschatological uncertainty. According to the mystical context, the fulfillment of the promise of “that day” when the Risen One will appear to the disciples in the Holy Spirit or, what is the same, will send it down to the disciples, begins with this appearance of Christ, since here He already sends them the Holy Spirit: “having said this, he breathed and said to them: receive the Holy Spirit.” (20:22). However, there is no direct reason and no need (together with Father Cassian) to identify this phenomenon with Pentecost. It cannot be denied that in general it refers to it, but only in that expanded, and at the same time indefinite, sense that is generally characteristic of it in the Fourth Gospel. What in the Acts of the Apostles is depicted as a one-time and complete event in itself, John, in his farewell conversation and here, has [unintelligible] its powers, which extends to this age and the future, but begins here and before the Ascension, where the appearance of the Lord in question belongs. In this sense, if it can be called “John’s Pentecost,” it is only in a special, limited sense. The disciples are given here the hierarchical power of remission or forgiveness of sins by the power of the Holy Spirit, but this is only the power imparted to them and is limited. It does not even extend to the celebration of the Eucharist, which we do not observe even after the Ascension, but before Pentecost. According to the Acts of the Apostles, the “breaking of the bread” is celebrated only after it. Therefore, the appearance of Christ in question to the disciples with the communication to them of the power of sacramental remission of sins can more accurately be designated as pre-Pentecost (in the language of liturgics this can be called the forefeast). The last appearance of Christ according to Matt. 28:18–20, where He testifies to “all authority in heaven and on earth” given to Him and gives them, as a final parting word, the commandment of baptism and teaching, together with the promise of remaining with them always until the end of the age. This promise and power to baptize with the command to teach is undoubtedly also included in the fulness of Pentecost, although it remains uncertain in relation to its times and seasons. (This uncertainty applies here even to whether this power and command is an apostolic-hierarchical gift, or a general Christian one: the church, by extending the power to baptize to the laity, thereby interprets this text in an expanded, but also vague, sense). In general, for correct theology about Pentecost and its gifts, it is obviously necessary to abandon its narrow and formal understanding, into which the various manifestations of its power do not fit, but it should be understood as occurring and continuing throughout the history of the church until the end of the age, “always, now and ever, and unto the ages of ages.” However, its beginning should be considered from the Resurrection of Christ, that is, even earlier than His Ascension, according to Matthew and John. The Resurrection was in this sense the Pentecost of Christ (which had its beginning, however, even earlier, already at baptism), and therefore the presence of Christ on earth is inseparably connected with the resting of the Holy Spirit on Him, whom He sends. The description of the external setting of Christ's appearance to the disciples, although “the door was closed,” also presupposes historical specificity. A special feature of this phenomenon should be considered, first of all, the greeting “peace be with you,” moreover, repeated twice (19:21). It is, of course, consonant with the words of the farewell conversation: “My peace I leave with you, my peace I give to you.” (14:27). (Cf. also Luke 24:36). The second feature of the story: “showed them his arms and ribs.” (Luke 24:40 ~with the option “legs” instead of “ribs”). In addition to the meaning that this feature receives in the story about the appearance of Thomas, shouldn’t we see here the last, final confirmation of the truth: “and the Word became flesh,” which is not subject to cancellation or limitation by the resurrection of Christ. A similar confirmation of the truth of the incarnation is found in Luke, where this is accompanied by a deliberate call: “Handle Me and look, for a spirit does not have flesh and bones, as you see Me.” (24:39). And “he took it and ate before them” (24:43), even so here Christ testifies to the same truth. In contrast to his habit of not repeating, but only supplementing the weather forecasters, John here repeats and thereby once again confirms the basic truth proclaimed in the Prologue. The third feature of this phenomenon is “John’s Pentecost”: “as the Father sent Me, so I send you. Having said this, he blew and said to them: Receive the Holy Spirit. Whose sins you forgive, they will be forgiven; on whomever you leave it, it will remain” (20:21–23). Obviously here we also have consonance with texts like Matt. 16:19 and 18:18, as well as Acts 2:1-4, all must be understood in context with Pentecost, although they cannot be directly equated with it. In relation to the dogma of the descent and sending of the Holy Spirit, as it is stated in the farewell conversation, it is here confirmed that the Spirit sent from the Father is communicated through the Son, i.e., the correct understanding of filioque means only διὰ τοῦ πατρός 41 However, the Holy Spirit has to be not only sent through the Son, but also received by those to whom He is sent. We do not yet have evidence of acceptance here, which is why this should be equated not with the accomplished Pentecost, but only with the one before it happened. The authority given by Christ in this appearance to the apostles relates to the forgiveness or remission of sins (20:23), and it is directly associated with the “reception of the Holy Spirit” (20:22). This same power is given, according to Matt. 16:19, Christ to the Apostle Peter, in this case representing the entire 12-fold, and in 18.18 directly refers to the “disciples” (Matthew 18:8). Here (however, as in John) nothing is said yet about the actual use of the given power; it is only proclaimed for the future, of course, not only as an abstraction, but also as some kind of gracious reality. Therefore, we have to admit that Pentecost comes into some force even before the Resurrection, obviously on the basis of Christ’s personal Pentecost in Baptism, but in relation to “John’s Pentecost” this is even more preliminary. Therefore, if we begin to consider this latter as pre-Pentecost, then what is narrated in the Gospel of Matthew must be understood as pre-Pentecost, i.e., its very first stage. Thus, from this side we once again come to accept the general idea of ​​its multi-stage nature, regarding which in the Gospels of Matthew and John two stages are already revealed to us, preceding the third, general Pentecost, the day of the descent of the Holy Spirit. The story about this appearance of Christ to the disciples also includes a second part (John 20:24–29), about His repeated appearance after eight days 42 in the presence of the apostle. Thomas, who was absent at the first appearance. There is also Christ’s greeting: “Peace be with you” (20:26), although only once. 43 Christ turns to Thomas, who, in response to the joyful testimony of the disciples that they “saw the Lord” (20:25), had earlier responded with doubt. He himself set for himself the condition of his faith, obviously, not only a vision, which could turn out to be a hallucination, but also tactile verification of the authenticity of the body through touching it. In response to this doubt, Christ himself invited him to put his finger and his hand into His side and to be not “an unbeliever, but a believer" (20:27). However, the very touch turned out to be unnecessary, Thomas, even without it, “said in response: My Lord and my God.” He confessed faith in the Risen Lord, although this did not free him from the meek reproach: “You believed because you saw Me, blessed are those who have not seen, but have believed.” ( John 20:29). The Lord does not seem to want to belittle him here in comparison with the other apostles, about whom it is said: “the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord.” (20:20). It remains unclear whether there is a derogation of Thomas in this comparison, or, even on the contrary, a special emphasis on Thomas, for the sake of whom there was a special appearance of the Lord, this is not evidenced. Moreover, Thomas is not so different from the other apostles, who rejoiced only when they saw the Lord, but before that they did not come out of the state of “Jewish fear” (which is why they gathered “with the doors locked”). Yes, something more is required from Thomas here than from the other apostles: “blessed are those who have not seen, but have believed.” This applies to all Christians, present, past and future, who are deprived of direct vision of Christ. Such should be the universal feat of faith in the Risen One, and such is the edification of Thomas, which represents the main theme of the story. However, at the same time, it still remains not entirely clear why Thomas, in his coolness through doubt, was given that which was denied to the fiery love of Magdalene, namely, the touch of the Risen One. It remains to conclude that just as those who touched and their touches were different, so the Lord’s attitude towards them was different. The touch was offered to Thomas to confirm that the Incarnation retained its power even after the Resurrection. (Luke 24:29 also applies here, as well as Matthew 28:9). Mary did not need such confirmation, despite the inviolability of her faith, at least nothing is said about this in the Gospel. One can also think that touch in general, as an expression of veneration and delight, was not prohibited after the Resurrection, according to Matt. 28:9, where it is said about women, namely Mary Magdalene and the other Mary, that “they came and took hold of His feet and worshiped Him,” without encountering any opposition from Jesus (cf. 28:10). Obviously, Christ's prohibition of touching Him belongs to the area of ​​​​her special knowledge of the mystery of His ascension. This is precisely what is implied in the prohibition itself: “thou shalt not touch Me, for I have not yet ascended to My Father.” The Lord told her about the ascent that had not yet taken place, but was only taking place, as something accessible to her understanding. He thereby does not diminish, but highlights her special, intimate closeness to Him, stemming from this knowledge and what is witnessed by him. This also follows from the further text: “Mary Magdalene goes and tells the disciples that she has seen the Lord and (that) He said this to her” (John 20:18). Obviously, “this that was said to her” contained some kind of special revelation, accessible only to her, but through her communicated to the disciples. Therefore, we are not talking here about the prohibition of the touch of joyful and reverent love, since it was already allowed earlier (Matthew 28:10), but about some new spiritual, and perhaps even eucharistic communion, for which the time had not yet really come, although it was already approaching, is spoken of here. However, if we accept this interpretation, then new difficulties arise from it. The first follows from the comparison of Matt. 28:1 ~(which, according to the general assumption, is known to John and is included in the context of the Fourth Gospel) with John in question. 20.17. How to correlate them: is this one and the same event, just told differently, or do we have two different ones here, but then how can they be coordinated with each other? The first assumption contains even greater difficulties than the second, since the two versions differ so much in detail: in Matt. 28:1 ~Mary Magdalene and another Mary are named, but here only Mary Magdalene is named, moreover, with a special emphasis on a personal relationship with Christ, for who else was addressed with such a personal call by name - Mary! - which sounded in her heart and was answered with an equally personal response: Rabbi! Here, in these two words, the personal encounter with Christ of the one whom - let us not forget this - precisely according to the Fourth Gospel, Jesus “loved” together with Martha and Lazarus (John 11:36) is manifested in all its strength. Let's just remember all the stunning imagery of this story. Then Mary unrestrainedly “fell at His feet” (John 11:32), and “When Jesus saw her crying... he himself was grieved in spirit and was indignant,” and then “Jesus shed tears” (11:35). And then she, this Mary, during the supper, after the resurrection of Lazarus, in her house, “taking a pound of pure precious ointment of spikenard, anointed the feet of Jesus and wiped His feet with her hair.” (John 12:3). Then Jesus not only did not forbid this, but even stood up for her against Judas Iscariot, saying directly: “Leave her (do not disturb her, do not interfere), she has saved this for the day of My burial” (12:7). Could this expression of grateful and devoted love be even more noted and accepted than was done here? And, of course, Mary’s love for the Lord over the passing days and hours of passion became no less, but even greater, if only it could increase, after standing at the cross and all the experiences of Christ’s passion, death on the cross and burial. However, she still remained the same, earthly, human. Christ is now calling her to a new, higher level of communion with Him, both Eucharistic and directly spiritual, which, however, will become available to her and will be accomplished for her and for the whole world with His final ascension to the Father, that is, with glorification. Thus, this new meeting with Christ becomes clear from itself. It is not a rejection or cessation of her love for Christ, but a new affirmation of it. She is no longer only Mary, although she is the one whom Jesus loved, but a wife, according to the address to her first of two angels, and then of Jesus himself. In her person the meeting of the Risen One with the human race in its feminine nature is obviously taking place. But in its entirety it is revealed by another great Woman, who adopted the beloved disciple at the cross and in him the Church, “the Woman clothed with the sun.” Obviously, this address “woman” refers not only to Mary, but also to the Wife hiding behind her, the Virgin Mother, to whom, according to legend, Christ appeared first, before Mary Magdalene. In any case, the personal nature of this appearance of the latter could not be shared with the other women who, according to other evangelists, went with Mary to the tomb and brought the news of the resurrection from the angel. This includes Matt. 28:1: “And after the Sabbath had passed, at dawn of the first day of the week Mary Magdalene and the other Mary came to see the tomb,” and there they heard from an angel the news of the resurrection (28:5, 6). Then they “ran with fear and great joy to tell His disciples, and behold, Jesus met them and said: Rejoice. And they came and grabbed His feet and worshiped Him” (Matthew 28:8, 9). This also includes Mr. 16:1, 2: “When the Sabbath was past, Mary Magdalene and Mary of James and Salome bought spices to anoint Him; and very early, on the first day of the week, they come to the tomb, at sunrise.” Further, it is reported about the stone being rolled away from the tomb and the appearance of an angel with the news of the resurrection, but there is no mention of a meeting with the Lord. (Mark 16:3–8). On the contrary, the second conclusion (Mark 16:9) speaks only about Mary Magdalene: having risen early on the first day of the week, (Jesus) appeared first to Mary Magdalene, from whom he cast out seven demons.” In Luke (24:1) “on the very first day of the week, very early, bringing the prepared spices, they (“the women”: Luke 24:22, 24) came to the tomb, and with them some others.” Next, it talks about the stone rolled away from the tomb and the appearance of two angels who told them about the resurrection, and this was followed by the notification of the apostles about this (Luke 24:2-9): “It was Mary Magdalene, and Joanna, and Mary (mother) of James, and others with them, who told the apostles about this” (24:10). The personal appearance of Christ to women is also absent here. From all these comparisons it is clear that the name of Mary Magdalene among the myrrh-bearers is mentioned in all synoptic lists, and in various connections, but the appearance of Christ to her alone is not spoken of, as in John. It remains undecided how to understand the relationship between these two options - the synoptic (which, however, contains at least two more different options: Matthew 28:9 ~ and Mr. with Luke) - and John. They can be combined without contradiction in such a way that the appearance of Christ to Mary alone must be somehow included in the general context of the succession of the event - in the middle or at the end of it. The fourth evangelist, in this chronological sense, is not at all interested in the exact context with the weather forecasters, no matter how accurate he himself is in determining the time relative to the events he himself is narrating. In this case, what matters to him is not the external chronological and topographical context, but the internal one, for which it is important to specially highlight the meeting of the Lord with Mary alone, along with the general meeting and worship of Christ of all the myrrh-bearing women, including her. In confirmation of this internal context, only one thing can be said here: both options do not contradict each other, but only differentiate and in this sense are complemented by each other. Chapter 20, in addition to its direct content (1–29), also has a kind of post-scriptum - Art. 30, 31 - which, on the one hand, emphasizes the factual incompleteness of John’s narrative, in particular the absence of many “other miracles” in it, and on the other hand, defines its general theological task: “so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God.” This seems to sum up his final conclusion. However, contrary to expectation, this is followed by another chapter 21, with a post-scriptum of similar content (21:25), which constitutes the second conclusion of the Gospel and in this sense, as it were, an epilogue to it. Ch. 21 contains a story about the appearance of the Lord on the Sea of ​​Tiberias, which is absent from the weather forecasters. Its chronological date is determined by the words “after this,” in all the uncertainty of this expression. For the nature of this conclusion 44 it is equally important not only what is contained in it, but also what is missing. The Ascension of the Lord is absent, as is any general indication of the end of His earthly ministry. Chapter 21 in this sense ends with a kind of ellipsis (23), to which its postscript is equivalent in general context: 24, 25. The chronology of the described phenomenon is so inaccurate that, if desired, it remains possible to attribute it even to the time after the Ascension (Fr. Cassian), of course, as far as this can be allowed for general theological considerations. (Which remains controversial). No less inaccurate is the time of the “third” appearance of the Lord to the disciples, described in ch. 21. The action here is transferred from Jerusalem to the shore of the “Sea of ​​Tiberias”, to Galilee, in a fishing setting. The disciples, led by Peter, now returned to it, as to their former craft. All the events associated with this have a descriptive-allegorical character - and above all, Peter’s peculiar primacy among the disciples, this time manifested in fishing: “I’m going to fish,” and the disciples answer: “you and I are going.” This is followed by the mysterious appearance of Jesus on the shore, and after a night of failure in fishing, a miraculous catch with a specially indicated mystical number of fish caught - 153, and a meal with Christ after fishing, accompanied by a conversation with Peter during it. We will dwell only on this conversation, which sounds like a certain mysterious chord that completes the “spiritual” gospel. In the foreground here is Peter’s threefold questioning of his faithfulness in love for the Teacher. Without a doubt, it contains a solemn testimony of the forgiveness of Peter for his threefold renunciation of Christ, with his restoration to the apostleship. There is sufficient reason to think that such forgiveness applies to all the apostles, since all of them, following Peter, (Matthew 26:35) first expressed assurances of loyalty to Christ, and after that they fled with him (26:56). The same Peter had previously confessed his faith in Christ on the way to Caesarea Philippi, on behalf of all the apostles, and of course now he needs a special restoration. This story contains a silent answer to the general bewilderment regarding the work of Christ on earth after His departure from the world, namely, about the fate of the apostleship. It is clear that the answer to this bewilderment is given on behalf of Elder John, the beloved disciple of Christ (“this disciple testifies to this, and wrote this, and we know that his testimony is true.” - John 21:24), and of course, obviously after the death of Peter, and we must also think about the other apostles. Just as it is generally impossible to dispute Peter’s well-known representative primacy in relation to other disciples, just as weak is the self-confidence of Catholics that this forgiveness of Peter means a special assertion of his “primacy,” which in any case would have more grounds to assert in relation to the beloved disciple. The latter did not receive forgiveness, but he alone did not need it, as well as confirmation of his apostleship, because in him it was not interrupted by betrayal. The central place in chapter 21 is occupied by Peter’s threefold questioning from the Lord - “Do you love Me” - and his response assurance of love. To express “you love, I love,” the Greek text alternates the verbs ἀγαπᾶν and φιλεῖν. In the first two questions of Christ, Peter is told: ἀγαπᾷς με, and only in the third: φιλεῖς με. Peter persistently answers φιλώ σε all three times. Despite all the difficulties in accurately establishing the special meaning of one and the other expression, 45 in this context there still remains a difference in shades - from the smaller, relatively impersonal, to the larger, more personal, friendly, intimate. To Christ’s probing question to Peter about his love for Him, Peter immediately responds with assurance of exclusive love, which he had always previously laid claim to, although he was unable to demonstrate it. And only in the third questioning does the Lord seem to agree to transfer the question and judgment about Peter to a different plane. A special nuance is also introduced by the difference in Christ’s appeals to Peter: “Feed My lambs” - ἀρνία μοῦ - the first time, and “My sheep” - τα προβάτια μοῦ - the second and third. Here there seems to be an ascent from the lesser to the greater, from the initial to the more comprehensive. Peter's pastoral tasks are all the more expanding here, and of course not just him, but with him the other apostles. What follows, obviously as evidence of the completeness of the forgiveness granted to Peter, is a prophecy about his death on the cross, martyrdom, 46 and it is expressed in an allegorical form, which is equally unfavorable to the Roman interpretation of it when applied to its primacy - in its absoluteness and infallibility: “another will gird you and lead you where you do not want.” But this, of course, does not detract from the forgiveness granted to Peter: “and having said this, he said: follow me” (21:19), This is followed by the most mysterious place in chapter 21. Having received forgiveness, Peter quickly and easily returns to his impatient expansiveness. He is already asking the Lord about John: “What is this?” It is no longer possible to see in this question any confirmation of the primacy and the resulting pastoral care of Petrov for John because the Lord directly rejects such an understanding of the question as a false claim. He not only leaves him without a direct answer, but also directly confirms his inconsistency: “What is that to you? You follow Me.” (21:22). Thus, the beloved disciple is placed here in any case not lower than Peter, and if not higher, then at least equal to him. 47 The very personality of John is clothed here with special solemnity and significance, as if even in direct contrast to Peter, who denied him three times: “Peter turned and saw the disciple, whom Jesus loved, coming after him, and who at the supper, bowing to His chest, said: “Lord! who will betray You; When Peter saw him, he said to Jesus...” (21:20). This dear memory again sounds again at the end of the Gospel, clearly as evidence of who exactly was the one about whom Peter asks, as if not realizing all the inappropriateness of the question itself, as if with some even a claim to primacy over it. Or perhaps almost unconscious jealousy manifested itself here, an involuntary, but always evocative comparison of two primates: the hierarchical and the prophetic. Jesus' answer is doubly mysterious. Firstly, it is unexpected in content: after all, Peter did not ask the Lord whether John would die; such a question would even be incomprehensible and strange in his mouth. The most that Peter could think and ask here is only about the relationship in which he will become to John now, after his forgiveness and restoration to the apostleship or even the chief apostleship. And the answer is quite definite: not at all. This doesn't concern you. “What do you want?” Secondly, the very content of Christ’s words about the death of John is mysterious, since it is dual and incomprehensible. From it it is impossible to assert with certainty either one or the other, or perhaps it contains some kind of combination of both: it is not said that John will not die, just as it is not said that he will die. But the most important thing is that the question is not even about the death of John, but about whether he will remain until the coming of the Lord. Here eschatological lightning flashed in these words referring to the Second Coming of the Lord. But it obviously presupposes His previous departure from the world. How can we understand this state between life and death, connecting both? Doesn’t this mean that in John, precisely as Christ’s beloved disciple, by the power of this love for Christ, something happened that happens not only in death, but also after death, as its overcoming, that is, that he was resurrected physically, or only spiritually - before the general resurrection. And this state of special strength and lightness is expressed in the word “abode” - in this world. This secret fate of John ends his Gospel. He himself here testifies to himself the word that he heard from the lips of Christ, then not fully understood by himself, but preserved in his Gospel as a kind of personal Apocalypse. There may even be a hint of future contemplations of the apocalyptic alostol, which are also on the verge of two worlds, life here and the afterlife. The beloved apostle is given such closeness to the Risen One that the afterlife or even the resurrection life becomes available. This is the last word of his revelation about himself. It is said here on earth, but is carried into the heavens, like the glory of the son of Thunder. And here, at the end of the Gospel, eschatological lightning suddenly flashed. This is the promise of the Second Coming: “until I come” - ἕως ἕρχομαι - repeated twice (21:22, 23). It seems to be accidentally, in passing, unintentionally dropped here, as a subordinate clause of the circumstance of time. But it contains the solemn ending not only of the Fourth Gospel, but also of the entire Four Gospels. It is his last word: putting aside Peter’s inappropriate inquisitiveness, the Lord uses it as a reason to give this promise. And it was obviously heard, at least by these two apostles: Peter and John, and preserved for the world, told to it through the latter. Although the Fourth Gospel does not seem to end, but breaks, and does not directly speak either of the Ascension of Christ or of what follows it, it contains the main eschatological revelation, and is, in this sense, the Gospel of the end. And all this is contained in this thunderous word of the Lord, preserved in the Gospel of the son of Gromov: “Until I come.” This one word is enough because it contains everything. The entire earthly Gospel is closed in this “for now” - ἕως - it is in a certain sense for now. In the Fourth Gospel there really is no direct story about the Ascension, as there is in Mark and Luke, but, according to the custom of the fourth evangelist, who tacitly assumes the entire synoptic narrative to be already known and in this sense taken for granted, it is implied. And in John’s own text, as we have seen, it is repeatedly spoken of the departure of Christ from this world to the Father. However, in this case we have even more: a direct, albeit silent, indication of the upcoming Ascension of the Lord, as His removal from the world. And this is all contained in this short, but so multi-valued and expressive so far, which embraces the time from and to, from the departure to the second coming of the Lord: “until I will come.” If He says this while still in this world and appearing in it to His disciples, as about His upcoming return to it, then this means that He immediately includes in this not only the return, but the preceding departure 48 from the world, i.e., the Ascension. Moreover, it is implied here that all human history, after the Incarnation until the Second Coming and until the end of the world, exists for now, exists and is understood in the light of this Second Coming. Thus, this still includes all the power and content of the Apocalypse, as a transcendental accomplishment of eschatology. It is a kind of spiritual dome that overshadows the world. And from this height of heaven the promise of Christ resounds loudly: I will come. “He who testifies to these things says: I am coming quickly. Amen". And to this John the Apocalyptic responds, and with him every believing soul: “Even so, come Lord Jesus.” See our essay: “Peter and John, two chief apostles”, Imka-Press, Paris 1926, 91 pp. The Western Church, which invariably reads it at the end of every Mass, as a testimony to the Incarnation, testifies to a similar attitude towards it, only expressed in a different way. True, the naming of Christ Logos is also found in other texts, however, also belonging to the Evangelist Theologian, namely I John. 1.1; 5.7, Revelation 19.3. This is, as it were, an echo of the Prologue (if not an independent use of words, at least in the latter case). See book. S. N. Trubetskoy. "The Doctrine of Logos". Wed. Arch. Bernard A critical and exegetical commentary on the Gospel according to St. John, 12 – L. Venard. St. Jean. Diet, de Théol. cath., t. VIII, I, p. 562–6. Un prologue qui contient toute une théologie d'incarnation. The same opinion is expressed by Loisy Le Quatrième Evangile and others. For an exhaustive comparison of texts related to this, see, for example, J, Göttsberger. Die göttliche Weisheit als Persönlichkeit im Alten Testament. Münster 1919. Wed. my “Chapters on the Trinity” (Theological Thought, 1). Wed. my essay “Hypostasis and hypostasis” (in the collection of P. B. Struve). Wed. comparisons in “The Burning Bush” in an excursion about the biblical and patristic teaching about the Wisdom of God. See the epilogue in “The Comforter”: “Father.” In Russian lane. added: “and without Him nothing began to be that began to be.” The underlined words represent an unnecessary pleonasm that has appeared since the time of Chrysostom, and “without” does not accurately convey the meaning of χωρίς. Wed. for example the comparisons in Bernard, Commentary, 5–6. The corresponding chapters of “The Friend of the Bridegroom” are actually a commentary on the Ioannon narrative about the Forerunner. The expression ἐν τῶ όνόματί μου, in the sense of εἰς ὅνομά μου, in the name is found in John in 15:16 (“he will give you in My Name”); 16,23,14; 13,14,26 (7 times in total). Wed. my work “On the Name of God”, manuscript. In a strange and incomprehensible way, the reading at the Easter liturgy ends at verse 17, not including the 18th, which essentially belongs to the Prologue and crowns it. Due to the lack of internal logic, this break can only be explained by a historical accident that requires correction. Wed. an extensive introduction to the Commentary of Bernard I. For general theological teaching about the Father, see The Comforter, epilogue: Father. We refer the reader to ref. chapters and pages of the Comforter, which makes an exhaustive comparison of the texts: pp. 194–204. Wed. comparison in Bernard, Introduction ch. V (CXXII-CXXIII). See the excursion about Wisdom in the Burning Bush. We have here a characteristic example of how the fourth Evangelist silently complements the narrative of the weather forecasters, including it in his own context. It is as if in a conscious parallel to the story of the Battle of Gethsemane, the mention of which is completely absent from John, that he cites these words of the Lord. Wed. Bernard, 1, p. 435, 436. This also includes the appearance of glory in the Transfiguration, which is associated with the approach of the hour and the ascension to Jerusalem to suffer, for “redemption through the precious blood of Christ, as a lamb without blemish and without spot, predestined before the foundation of the world, but revealed in the last times for you” (I Peter 1:19–20). Of this appearance of glory it is said: “We will make known to you the power and the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ... having been eyewitnesses of His majesty. For He received honor and glory from God the Father when such a voice came to Him from the magnificent glory: “This is My beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased” (2 Peter 1:16–17). Characteristic here is the distinction and comparison of the “magnificent glory of the Father” of the Divine Sophia, and the glory received from God the Father, created Sophia, the deification of the human nature of the Lord, which is glorification. Bernard 1, p. 524, sees in the aorist form “a prophetic anticipation of the future,” but what does “now” refer to in this case? Isn’t it more natural to see here direct evidence of a completed fact, completed internally, although the process has not yet manifested itself externally? In the farewell conversation, the glorification of the Father by the Son is spoken of twice more, however, in a special sense: 1) “may the Father be glorified in the Son” (14:113) this refers to the fulfillment of requests from the Father in the Name of the Son; 2) “By this my Father will be glorified, if you bear much fruit and become my disciples” (15:8) we are talking about pleasing God. It is also said about the Holy Spirit that “He will glorify Me, because He will take of Mine and proclaim it to you” (16:14). We are talking here about the identity of revelation given through the Son by the Holy Spirit. Of course, the teaching of the Fourth Gospel on salvation can be compared not only with the letter of John. But especially with Revelation, which depicts the relationship between Christ and the world in an even different way: not immanently or even eschatologically, but apocalyptically, as a philosophy of history, or rather, its tragedy. In addition to the printed essay “Judas, the Traitor Apostle,” see the handwritten additions and excursions to it. The same meaning of originality, in the sense of eternity, has έξ ἀρχῆς in Isaiah 40.21; 41:26. In this it is not synonymous with the expression ἀπ ἀρχῆς, which clearly refers to a beginning in time: Jn. 15:27; I John 3:11; 2:7, 13 (maybe except for I John 1.1), where it really has the meaning of time: “about that which was from the beginning”... Wed. comparison in Bernard, I, 76. See Bernard: The Johannine Miracles, I. CLXXVI-CLXXXVI. The compiler of the service for Lazarus Saturday, who allows for a Nestorian division and the actual alternation of the action of two principles in Christ, did not cope with this antinomy of the Christological dogma. έτάραξεν αυτόν in the Slavic and Russian translation “indignant” is an ambiguous expression. “Jesus shed tears” is the shortest verse in the Bible, and its power is greater in context. Wed. my essay “Eucharistic Dogma” about the apparitions of the slaughtered Child, as well as an indication of the “teaching message” (in the missal) about how one should relate to the transformation of bread and wine into meat and blood. On the contrary, the appearance of light over the chalice of St. Sergius belongs rather to the spiritual world. “Those who had plagues rushed to Him to touch Him.” (Mark 3:10). It was the same with the bleeding one. (Mark 5:25–34; Matt. 9:20–21; Luke 8:43–48). Arch. Cassien, La Pentecote Johannique. Wed. our critical analysis of this hypothesis (not printed). As Bernard rightly notes, p. 678. This precision in the designation of the period, and generally characteristic of John, once again confirms that with all the uncertainty of the eschatological perspective of “that day,” an earthly, concrete event is described here that does not interrupt the connection of times, but fits into it, although it has its own, supra-temporal depth. It seems that this difference in the double and single greeting need not be given any more significance than the factual details of the event. For thoughts on this, see Bernard, p. 687–692: the Appendix. See comparisons in Bernard, 702–704. From them it follows that both words ἀγαπᾶν and φιλεῖν are used indifferently to express the love of God for man, the Father for the Son, Jesus for man, man for other people, man for Jesus, man for God, so that in general they are actually synonymous, as is recognized in patriotic writing. See comparisons in Fr. P. Florensky. The pillar and ground of truth. In this case, we have a deliberate vaticinium post even turn. The martyrdom of Peter here is already assumed to be known both to the Evangelist John himself and to his contemporaries. The emphasis does not refer to the prophecy about the fact itself, as a future that has not yet occurred, as et ante eventum, but to a special explanation of this fact from the lips of Christ, although, of course, before its occurrence. See my essay: “Peter and John, the two chief apostles.” Thus, this turns out to be tantamount to the words of the angel who appeared to the apostles after the Ascension according to the Acts of the Apostles (1.11): “this Jesus, who was taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw Him going into heaven.”