Part 6 (2/2)

The goal of purification is fruit, the Lord tells us. What sort of fruit is it that he expects? Let us begin by looking at the fruit that he himself has borne by dying and rising. Isaiah and the whole prophetic tradition spoke of how G.o.d expected grapes, and thus choice wine, from his vine. This was an image of the righteousness, the rect.i.tude that consists in living within the Word and will of G.o.d. The same tradition says that what G.o.d finds instead are useless, small, sour grapes that he can only throw away. This was an image of life lived away from G.o.d's righteousness amid injustice, corruption, and violence. The vine is meant to bear choice grapes that through the process of picking, pressing, and fermentation will produce excellent wine.

Let us recall that the parable of the vine occurs in the context of Jesus' Last Supper. After the multiplication of the loaves he had spoken of the true bread from heaven that he would give, and thus he left us with a profound interpretation of the eucharistic bread that was to come. It is hard to believe that in his discourse on the vine he is not tacitly alluding to the new wine that had already been prefigured at Cana and which he now gives to us-the wine that would flow from his Pa.s.sion, from his ”love to the end” (Jn 13:1). In this sense, the parable of the vine has a thoroughly eucharistic background. It refers to the fruit that Jesus brings forth: his love, which pours itself out for us on the Cross and which is the choice new wine destined for G.o.d's marriage feast with man. Thus we come to understand the full depth and grandeur of the Eucharist, even though it is not explicitly mentioned here. The Eucharist points us toward the fruit that we, as branches of the vine, can and must bear with Christ and by virtue of Christ. The fruit the Lord expects of us is love-a love that accepts with him the mystery of the Cross, and becomes a partic.i.p.ation in his self-giving-and hence the true justice that prepares the world for the Kingdom of G.o.d.

Purification and fruit belong together; only by undergoing G.o.d's purifications can we bear the fruit that flows into the eucharistic mystery and so leads to the marriage feast that is the goal toward which G.o.d directs history. Fruit and love belong together: The true fruit is the love that has pa.s.sed through the Cross, through G.o.d's purifications. ”Remaining” is an essential part of all this. In verses 110 the word remain remain (in Greek (in Greek menein menein) occurs ten times. What the Church Fathers call perseverantia perseverantia-patient steadfastness in communion with the Lord amid all the vicissitudes of life-is placed center stage here. Initial enthusiasm is easy. Afterward, though, it is time to stand firm, even along the monotonous desert paths that we are called upon to traverse in this life-with the patience it takes to tread evenly, a patience in which the romanticism of the initial awakening subsides, so that only the deep, pure Yes of faith remains. This is the way to produce good wine. After the brilliant illuminations of the initial moment of his conversion, Augustine had a profound experience of this toilsome patience, and that is how he learned to love the Lord and to rejoice deeply at having found him.

If the fruit we are to bear is love, its prerequisite is this ”remaining,” which is profoundly connected with the kind of faith that holds on to the Lord and does not let go. Verse 7 speaks of prayer as an essential element of this remaining: Those who pray are promised that they will surely be heard. Of course, to pray in the name of Jesus is not to make an ordinary pet.i.tion, but to ask for the essential gift that Jesus characterizes as ”joy” in the Farewell Discourses, while Luke calls it the Holy Spirit (cf. Lk 11:13)-the two being ultimately the same. Jesus' words about remaining in his love already point ahead to the last verse of his high-priestly prayer (cf. Jn 17:26) and thus connect the vine discourse with the great theme of unity, for which the Lord prays to the Father at the Last Supper.

Bread We have already dealt extensively with the bread motif in connection with Jesus' temptations. We have seen that the temptation to turn the desert rocks into bread raises the whole question of the Messiah's mission, and that through the devil's distortion of this mission Jesus' positive answer can already be glimpsed; this answer then becomes explicit once and for all in the gift of his body as bread for the life of the world on the eve of his Pa.s.sion. We have also encountered the bread motif in our exposition of the fourth pet.i.tion of the Our Father, where we tried to survey the different dimensions of this pet.i.tion, and thus to explore the full range of the bread theme. At the end of Jesus' activity in Galilee, he performs the multiplication of the loaves; on one hand, it is an unmistakable sign of Jesus' messianic mission, while on the other, it is also the crossroads of his public ministry, which from this point leads clearly to the Cross. All three Synoptic Gospels tell of a miraculous feeding of five thousand men (cf. Mt 14:1321; Mk 6:3244; Lk 9:10b17); Matthew and Mark tell of an additional feeding of four thousand (cf. Mt 15:3238; Mk 8:19).

The two stories have a rich theological content that we cannot enter into here. I will restrict myself to John's story of the multiplication of the loaves (cf. Jn 6:115), not in order to study it in depth, but rather to focus upon the interpretation that Jesus gives of this event in his great bread of life discourse the following day in the synagogue on the other side of the lake. One more qualification is in order: We cannot consider the details of this discourse, which the exegetes have discussed at length and a.n.a.lyzed thoroughly. I would merely like to draw out its princ.i.p.al message and, above all, to situate it in the context of the whole tradition to which it belongs and in terms of which it has to be understood.

The fundamental context in which the entire chapter belongs is centered upon the contrast between Moses and Jesus. Jesus is the definitive, greater Moses-the ”prophet” whom Moses foretold in his discourse at the border of the Holy Land and concerning whom G.o.d said, ”I will put my words in his mouth, and he shall speak to them all that I command him” (Deut 18:18). It is no accident, then, that the following statement occurs between the multiplication of the loaves and the attempt to make Jesus king: ”This is indeed the prophet who is to come into the world!” (Jn 6:14). In a very similar vein, after the saying about the water of life on the Feast of Tabernacles, the people say: ”This is really the prophet” (Jn 7:40). The Mosaic background provides the context for the claim that Jesus makes. Moses struck the rock in the desert and out flowed water; Jesus promises the water of life, as we have seen. The great gift, though, which stood out in the people's memory, was the manna. Moses gave bread from heaven; G.o.d himself fed the wandering people of Israel with heavenly bread. For a people who often went hungry and struggled to earn their daily bread, this was the promise of promises, which somehow said everything there was to say: relief of every want-a gift that satisfied hunger for all and forever.

Before we take up this idea, which is the key to understanding chapter 6 of John's Gospel, we must first complete the picture of Moses, because this is the only way to focus upon John's picture of Jesus. The central point from which we started in this book, and to which we keep returning, is that Moses spoke face-to-face with G.o.d, ”as a man speaks to his friend” (Ex 33:11; cf. Deut 34:10). It was only because he spoke with G.o.d himself that Moses could bring G.o.d's word to men. But, although this immediate relations.h.i.+p with G.o.d is the heart and inner foundation of Moses' mission, a shadow lies over it. For when Moses says, ”I pray thee, show me thy glory,” at the very moment when the text affirms that he is G.o.d's friend who has direct access to him, he receives this answer: ”While my glory pa.s.ses by I will put you in a cleft of the rock, and I will cover you with my hand until I have pa.s.sed by; then I will take away my hand, and you shall see my back; but my face shall not be seen” (Ex 33:18, 22f.). Even Moses sees only G.o.d's back-his face ”shall not be seen.” The limits to which even Moses is subject now become clear.

The saying at the end of the prologue is the decisive key to the image of Jesus in John's Gospel: ”No one has ever seen G.o.d; it is the only Son, who is nearest to the Father's heart, who has made him known” (Jn 1:18). Only the one who is G.o.d sees G.o.d-Jesus. He truly speaks from his vision of the Father, from unceasing dialogue with the Father, a dialogue that is his life. If Moses only showed us, and could only show us, G.o.d's back, Jesus, by contrast, is the Word that comes from G.o.d, from a living vision of him, from unity with him. Connected with this are two further gifts to Moses that attain their final form in Christ. First, G.o.d communicated his name to Moses, thereby making possible a relations.h.i.+p between himself and human beings; by handing on the name revealed to him, Moses acts as mediator of a real relations.h.i.+p between men and the living G.o.d. We have already reflected on this point in our consideration of the first pet.i.tion of the Our Father. Now, in his high-priestly prayer Jesus stresses that he has revealed G.o.d's name, that he has brought to completion this aspect too of the work begun by Moses. When we consider the high-priestly prayer, we will have to investigate this claim more closely: In what sense has Jesus gone beyond Moses in revealing G.o.d's ”name”?

The other gift to Moses-which is closely connected with the vision of G.o.d and the communication of his name, as well as with the manna-is the gift that gives Israel its ident.i.ty as G.o.d's people in the first place: the Torah, the word of G.o.d that points out the way and leads to life. Israel realized with increasing clarity that this was Moses' fundamental and enduring gift, that what really set Israel apart was this knowledge of G.o.d's will and so of the right path of life. The great Psalm 119 is a single outburst of joy and grat.i.tude for this gift. A one-sided view of the Law, arising from a one-sided interpretation of Pauline theology, prevents us from seeing this joy of Israel: the joy of knowing G.o.d's will, and so of being privileged to live in accordance with G.o.d's will.

This observation brings us back to the bread of life discourse, surprising as that may seem. For as Jewish thought developed inwardly, it became increasingly plain that the real bread from heaven that fed and feeds Israel is precisely the Law-the word of G.o.d. The Wisdom Literature presents the wisdom that is substantially accessible and present in the Law as ”bread” (Prov 9:5); the rabbinic literature went on to develop this idea further (Barrett, Gospel, Gospel, p. 290). This is the perspective from which we need to understand Jesus' dispute with the Jews a.s.sembled in the synagogue at Capernaum. Jesus begins by pointing out that they have failed to understand the multiplication of the loaves as a ”sign,” which is its true meaning. Rather, what interested them was eating and having their fill (cf. Jn 6:26). They have been looking at salvation in purely material terms, as a matter of universal well-being, and they have therefore reduced man, leaving G.o.d out altogether. But if they see the manna only as a means of satisfying their hunger, they need to realize that even the manna was not heavenly bread, but only earthly bread. Even though it came from ”heaven,” it was earthly food-or rather a food subst.i.tute that would necessarily cease when Israel emerged from the desert back into inhabited country. p. 290). This is the perspective from which we need to understand Jesus' dispute with the Jews a.s.sembled in the synagogue at Capernaum. Jesus begins by pointing out that they have failed to understand the multiplication of the loaves as a ”sign,” which is its true meaning. Rather, what interested them was eating and having their fill (cf. Jn 6:26). They have been looking at salvation in purely material terms, as a matter of universal well-being, and they have therefore reduced man, leaving G.o.d out altogether. But if they see the manna only as a means of satisfying their hunger, they need to realize that even the manna was not heavenly bread, but only earthly bread. Even though it came from ”heaven,” it was earthly food-or rather a food subst.i.tute that would necessarily cease when Israel emerged from the desert back into inhabited country.

But man hungers for more. He needs more. The gift that feeds man as man must be greater, must be on a wholly different level. Is the Torah this other food? It is in some sense true that in and through the Torah, man can make G.o.d's will his food (cf. Jn 4:34). So the Torah is ”bread” from G.o.d, then. And yet it shows us only G.o.d's back, so to speak. It is a ”shadow.” ”For the bread of G.o.d is that which comes down from heaven, and gives life to the world” (Jn 6:33). As the audience still does not understand, Jesus repeats himself even more unambiguously: ”I am the bread of life; he who comes to me shall not hunger, and he who believes in me shall never thirst” (Jn 6:35).

The Law has become a person. person. When we encounter Jesus, we feed on the living G.o.d himself, so to speak; we truly eat ”bread from heaven.” By the same token, Jesus has already made it clear that the only work G.o.d demands is the work of believing in him. Jesus' audience had asked him: ”What must we do, to be doing the works of G.o.d?” (Jn 6:28). The text uses here the Greek word When we encounter Jesus, we feed on the living G.o.d himself, so to speak; we truly eat ”bread from heaven.” By the same token, Jesus has already made it clear that the only work G.o.d demands is the work of believing in him. Jesus' audience had asked him: ”What must we do, to be doing the works of G.o.d?” (Jn 6:28). The text uses here the Greek word ergazesthai, ergazesthai, which means ”to perform a work” (Barrett, which means ”to perform a work” (Barrett, Gospel, Gospel, p. 287). Jesus' listeners are ready to work, to do something, to perform ”works,” in order to receive this bread. But it cannot be ”earned” by human work, by one's own achievement. It can only come to us as a gift from G.o.d, as p. 287). Jesus' listeners are ready to work, to do something, to perform ”works,” in order to receive this bread. But it cannot be ”earned” by human work, by one's own achievement. It can only come to us as a gift from G.o.d, as G.o.d's work G.o.d's work. The whole of Pauline theology is present in this dialogue. The highest things, the things that really matter, we cannot achieve on our own; we have to accept them as gifts and enter into the dynamic of the gift, so to speak. This happens in the context of faith in Jesus, who is dialogue-a living relations.h.i.+p with the Father-and who wants to become Word and love in us as well.

But the question as to how we can ”feed” on G.o.d, live on G.o.d, in such a way that he himself becomes our bread-this question is not yet fully answered by what has just been said. G.o.d becomes ”bread” for us first of all in the Incarnation of the Logos: The Word takes on flesh. The Logos becomes one of us and so comes down to our level, comes into the sphere of what is accessible to us. Yet a further step is still needed beyond even the Incarnation of the Word. Jesus names this step in the concluding words of his discourse: His flesh is life ”for” the world (Jn 6:51). Beyond the act of the Incarnation, this points to its intrinsic goal and ultimate realization: Jesus' act of giving himself up to death and the mystery of the Cross.

This is made even clearer in verse 53, where the Lord adds that he will give us his blood to ”drink.” These words are not only a manifest allusion to the Eucharist. Above all they point to what underlies the Eucharist: the sacrifice of Jesus, who sheds his blood for us, and in so doing steps out of himself, so to speak, pours himself out, and gives himself to us.

In this chapter, then, the theology of the Incarnation and the theology of the Cross come together; the two cannot be separated. There are thus no grounds for setting up an opposition between the Easter theology of the Synoptics and Saint Paul, on one hand, and Saint John's supposedly purely incarnational theology, on the other. For the goal of the Word's becoming-flesh spoken of by the prologue is precisely the offering of his body on the Cross, which the sacrament makes accessible to us. John is following here the same line of thinking that the Letter to the Hebrews develops on the basis of Psalm 40:68: ”Sacrifices and offerings you did refuse-you have prepared a body for me” (Heb 10:5). Jesus becomes man in order to give himself and to take the place of the animal sacrifices, which could only be a gesture of longing, but not an answer.

Jesus' bread discourse, on one hand, points the main movement of the Incarnation and of the Paschal journey toward the sacrament, in which Incarnation and Easter are permanently present, but conversely, this has the effect of integrating the sacrament, the Holy Eucharist, into the larger context of G.o.d's descent to us and for us. On one hand, then, the Eucharist emphatically moves right to the center of Christian existence; here G.o.d does indeed give us the manna that humanity is waiting for, the true ”bread of heaven”-the nourishment we can most deeply live upon as human beings. At the same time, however, the Eucharist is revealed as man's unceasing great encounter with G.o.d, in which the Lord gives himself as ”flesh,” so that in him, and by partic.i.p.ating in his way, we may become ”spirit.” Just as he was transformed through the Cross into a new manner of bodiliness and of being-human pervaded by G.o.d's own being, so too for us this food must become an opening out of our existence, a pa.s.sing through the Cross, and an antic.i.p.ation of the new life in G.o.d and with G.o.d.

This is why at the conclusion of the discourse, which places such emphasis on Jesus' becoming flesh and our eating and drinking the ”flesh and blood of the Lord,” Jesus says: ”it is the spirit that gives life, the flesh is of no avail” (Jn 6:63). This may remind us of Saint Paul's words: ”The first man Adam became a living being; the last Adam became a life-giving spirit” (1 Cor 15:45). This in no way diminishes the realism of ”becoming-flesh.” Yet the Paschal perspective of the sacrament is underlined: Only through the Cross and through the transformation that it effects does this flesh become accessible to us, drawing us up into the process of transformation. Eucharistic piety needs to be constantly learning from this great Christological-indeed, cosmic-dynamism.

In order to understand the full depth of Jesus' bread discourse, we must finally take a brief look at one of the key sayings of John's Gospel. Jesus p.r.o.nounces it on Palm Sunday as he looks ahead to the universal Church that will embrace Jews and Greeks-all the peoples of the world: ”Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit” (Jn 12:24). What we call ”bread” contains the mystery of the Pa.s.sion. Before there can be bread, the seed-the grain of wheat-first has to be placed in the earth, it has to ”die,” and then the new ear can grow out of this death. Earthly bread can become the bearer of Christ's presence because it contains in itself the mystery of the Pa.s.sion, because it unites in itself death and resurrection. This is why the world's religions used bread as the basis for myths of death and resurrection of the G.o.dhead, in which man expressed his hope for life out of death.

In this connection, Cardinal Christoph Schonborn reminds us of the conversion of the great British writer C. S. Lewis; Lewis, having read a twelve-volume work about these myths, came to the conclusion that this Jesus who took bread in his hands and said, ”This is my body,” was just ”another corn divinity, a corn king who lays down his life for the life of the world.” One day, however, he overheard a firm atheist remarking to a colleague that the evidence for the historicity of the Gospels was actually surprisingly good. The atheist then paused thoughtfully and said: ”About the dying G.o.d. Rum thing. It almost looks as if it really happened once” (Schonborn, Weihnacht Weihnacht, pp. 23f.).

Yes, it really did happen. Jesus is no myth. He is a man of flesh and blood and he stands as a fully real part of history. We can go to the very places where he himself went. We can hear his words through his witnesses. He died and he is risen. It is as if the mysterious Pa.s.sion contained in bread had waited for him, had stretched out its arms toward him; it is as if the myths had waited for him, because in him what they long for came to pa.s.s. The same is true of wine. It too contains the Pa.s.sion in itself, for the grape had to be pressed in order to become wine. The Fathers gave this hidden language of the eucharistic gifts an even deeper interpretation. I would like to add just one example here. In the early Christian text called the Teaching of the Twelve Apostles, also known as the Didache Didache (probably composed around the year 100), the following prayer is recited over the bread intended for the Eucharist: ”As the bread was scattered on the mountains and brought into unity, so may the Church be gathered from the ends of the earth into your Kingdom” (IX, 4). (probably composed around the year 100), the following prayer is recited over the bread intended for the Eucharist: ”As the bread was scattered on the mountains and brought into unity, so may the Church be gathered from the ends of the earth into your Kingdom” (IX, 4).

The Shepherd The image of the shepherd, which Jesus uses to explain his mission both in the Synoptics and in the Gospel of John, has a long history behind it. In the ancient Near East, in royal inscriptions from both Sumer and the area of Babylonia and a.s.syria, the king refers to himself as the shepherd inst.i.tuted by G.o.d. ”Pasturing sheep” is an image of his task as a ruler. This image implies that caring for the weak is one of the tasks of the just ruler. One could therefore say that, in view of its origins, this image of Christ the Good Shepherd is a Gospel of Christ the King, an image that sheds light upon the kings.h.i.+p of Christ.

Of course, the immediate precedents for Jesus' use of this image are found in the Old Testament, where G.o.d himself appears as the Shepherd of Israel. This image deeply shaped Israel's piety, and it was especially in times of need that Israel found a word of consolation and confidence in it. Probably the most beautiful expression of this trustful devotion is Psalm 23: ”The Lord is my shepherd...Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil; for thou art with me” (Ps 23:1, 4). The image of G.o.d as Shepherd is more fully developed in chapters 3437 of Ezekiel, whose vision is brought into the present and interpreted as a prophecy of Jesus' ministry both in the Synoptic shepherd parables and in the Johannine shepherd discourse. Faced with the self-seeking shepherds of his own day, whom he challenges and accuses, Ezekiel proclaims the promise that G.o.d himself will seek out his sheep and care for them. ”And I will bring them out from the peoples, and gather them from the countries, and will bring them into their own land.... I myself will be the shepherd of my sheep, and I will make them lie down, says the Lord G.o.d. I will seek the lost, and I will bring back the strayed, and I will bind up the crippled, and I will strengthen the weak, and the fat and the strong I will watch over” (Ezek 34:13, 1516).

Faced with the murmuring of the Pharisees and scribes over Jesus' table fellows.h.i.+p with sinners, the Lord tells the parable of the ninety-nine sheep who remained in the fold and the one lost sheep. The shepherd goes after the lost sheep, lifts it joyfully upon his shoulders, and brings it home. Jesus puts this parable as a question to his adversaries: Have you not read G.o.d's word in Ezekiel? I am only doing what G.o.d, the true Shepherd, foretold: I wish to seek out the sheep that are lost and bring the strayed back home.

At a late stage in Old Testament prophecy, the portrayal of the shepherd image takes yet another surprising and thought-provoking turn that leads directly to the mystery of Jesus Christ. Matthew recounts to us that on the way to the Mount of Olives after the Last Supper, Jesus tells his disciples that the prophecy foretold in Zechariah 13:7 is about to be fulfilled: ”I will strike the shepherd, and the sheep of the flock will be scattered” (Mt 26:31). Zechariah does in fact present in this pa.s.sage the vision of a Shepherd ”who by G.o.d's will patiently suffers death and in so doing initiates the final turn of events” (Jeremias, TDNT, TDNT, VI, pp. 500-1). VI, pp. 500-1).

This surprising vision of the slain Shepherd, who through his death becomes the Savior, is closely linked to another image from the Book of Zechariah: ”And I will pour out on the house of David and the inhabitants of Jerusalem a spirit of compa.s.sion and supplication. And they will look on him whom they have pierced. They shall mourn for him, as one mourns for an only child, and weep bitterly over him, as one weeps over a firstborn.... On that day the mourning in Jerusalem will be as great as the mourning for Hadad-Rimmon in the plain of Megiddo.... On that day there shall be a fountain opened for the house of David and the inhabitants of Jerusalem to cleanse them from sin and uncleanness” (Zech 12:10, 11; 13:1). Hadad-Rimmon was one of the dying and rising vegetation deities whom we encountered earlier when we were explaining that bread presupposes the death and resurrection of the grain. The death of the G.o.d, which is then followed by resurrection, was celebrated with wild ritual laments; these rituals impressed themselves upon those who witnessed them-as the Prophet and his audience evidently did-as the absolute archetype of grief and lamentation. For Zechariah, Hadad-Rimmon is one of the nonexistent divinities that Israel despises and unmasks as mythical dreams. And yet, through the ritual lamentation over him, he mysteriously prefigures someone who really does exist.

An inner connection with the Servant of G.o.d in Deutero-Isaiah is discernible here. In the writings of the later Prophets, we see the figure of the suffering and dying Redeemer, the Shepherd who becomes the lamb, even if some of the details are yet to be filled in. K. Elliger comments apropos of this: ”On the other hand, however, his [Zechariah's] gaze penetrates with remarkable accuracy into a new distance and circles around the figure of the one who was pierced on the Cross at Golgotha. Admittedly, he does not clearly discern the figure of Christ, although the allusion to Hadad-Rimmon does come remarkably close to the mystery of the Resurrection, albeit no more than close...and above all without clearly seeing the real connection between the Cross and the fountain that cleanses sin and impurity” (”Das Buch,” ATD ATD, 25, p. 172). While in Matthew's Gospel, Jesus himself cites Zechariah 13:7-the image of the slain Shepherd-at the beginning of the Pa.s.sion narrative, John, by contrast, concludes his account of the Lord's Crucifixion with an allusion to Zechariah 12:10: ”They shall look on him whom they have pierced” (Jn 19:37). Now it becomes clear: the one who is slain and the Savior is Jesus Christ, the crucified one.

John a.s.sociates this with Zechariah's prophetic vision of the fountain that purifies from sin and impurity: Blood and water flow forth from Jesus' wounded side (cf. Jn 19:34). Jesus himself, the one pierced on the Cross, is the fountain of purification and healing for the whole world. John connects this further with the image of the Paschal Lamb, whose blood has purifying power: ”Not a bone of him shall be broken” (Jn 19:36; cf. Ex 12:46). With that, the circle is closed, joining the end to the beginning of the Gospel, where the Baptist-catching sight of Jesus-said: ”Behold, the Lamb of G.o.d, who takes away the sin of the world” (Jn 1:29). The image of the lamb, which in a different way plays a decisive role in the Book of Revelation, thus encompa.s.ses the entire Gospel. It also points to the deepest meaning of the shepherd discourse, whose center is precisely Jesus' act of laying down his life.

Surprisingly, the shepherd discourse does not begin with the words: ”I am the Good Shepherd” (Jn 10:11), but with another image: ”Truly, truly, I say to you, I am the door of the sheep” (Jn 10:7). Jesus has already said: ”Truly, truly, I say to you, he who does not enter the sheep-fold by the door but climbs in by another way, that man is a thief and a robber; but he who enters by the door is the shepherd of the sheep” (Jn 10:1f.). This can only really mean that Jesus is establis.h.i.+ng the criterion for those who will shepherd his flock after his ascension to the Father. The proof of a true shepherd is that he enters through Jesus as the door. For in this way it is ultimately Jesus who is the Shepherd-the flock ”belongs” to him alone.

In practice, the way to enter through Jesus as the door becomes apparent in the appendix to the Gospel in chapter 21-when Peter is entrusted with Jesus' own office as Shepherd. Three times the Lord says to Peter: ”Feed my lambs” (or sheep-cf. Jn 21:1517). Peter is very clearly being appointed as the shepherd of Jesus' sheep and established in Jesus' office as shepherd. For this to be possible, however, Peter has to enter through the ”door.” Jesus speaks of this entry-or, better, this being allowed to enter through the door (cf. Jn 10:3)-when he asks Peter three times: Simon, son of John, do you love me? Notice first the utterly personal aspect of this calling: Simon is called by name-both by his own personal name, Simon, and by a name referring to his ancestry. And he is asked about the love that makes him one with Jesus. This is how he comes to the sheep ”through Jesus”: He takes them not as his own-Simon Peter's-but as Jesus Jesus' ”flock.” It is because he comes through the ”door,” Jesus, it is because he comes to them united with Jesus in love, that the sheep listen to his voice, the voice of Jesus himself-they are following not Simon, but Jesus, from whom and through whom Simon comes to them, so that when he leads them it is Jesus himself who leads.

The whole invest.i.ture scene closes with Jesus saying to Peter, ”Follow me” (Jn 21:19). It recalls the scene after Peter's first confession, where Peter tries to dissuade the Lord from the way of Cross, and the Lord says to him, ”Get behind me,” and then goes on to invite everyone to take up his cross and ”follow him” (cf. Mk 8:33ff.). Even the disciple who now goes ahead of the others as shepherd must ”follow” Jesus. And as the Lord declares to Peter after conferring upon him the office of shepherd, this includes accepting the cross, being prepared to give his life. This is what it means in practice when Jesus says: ”I am the door.” This is how Jesus himself remains the shepherd.

Let us return to the shepherd discourse in chapter 10 of John's Gospel. It is only in the second part that Jesus declares: ”I am the Good Shepherd” (Jn 10:11). He takes upon himself all the historical a.s.sociations of the shepherd image, which he then purifies, and brings to its full meaning. Four essential points receive particular emphasis. First, the thief ”comes only to steal and kill and destroy” (Jn 10:10). He regards the sheep as part of his property, which he owns and exploits for himself. All he cares about is himself; he thinks the world revolves around him. The real Shepherd does just the opposite. He does not take life, but gives it: ”I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly” (Jn 10:10).

This is Jesus' great promise: to give life in abundance. Everyone wants life in abundance. But what is it? What does life consist in? Where do we find it? When and how do we have ”life in abundance”? When we live like the prodigal son, squandering the whole portion G.o.d has given us? When we live like the thief and the robber, taking everything for ourselves alone? Jesus promises that he will show the sheep where to find ”pasture”-something they can live on-and that he will truly lead them to the springs of life. We are right to hear echoes of Psalm 23 in this: ”He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters.... Thou preparesta table before me in the presence.... Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life” (Ps 23:2, 5f.). There is an even more immediate echo of the shepherd discourse from Ezekiel: ”I will feed them with good pasture, and upon the mountain country of Israel shall be their pasture” (Ezek 34:14).

But what does all this mean? We know what sheep live on, but what does man live on? The Fathers saw Ezekiel's reference to the mountain country of Israel and the shady

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