Flesh and Glory: Symbolism, Gender and Theology in the Gospel of John

Dorothy Lee
New York: Crossroad Publishing Company, 2002.
ISBN: 0824519817

Reviewer: Michael Trainor, Flinders University, School of Theology at the Adelaide

College of Divinity

Scholarship on the Fourth Gospel continues to blossom, particularly as newer

approaches to biblical criticism, and the challenge of a relevant hermeneutic,
preoccupy commentators. The two- volume commentary on Johns Gospel in the
Anchor Bible series by Raymond Brown in the 1960s represented the peak
development in the form- historical critical approach. Since Brown, Johannine
scholarship has fruitfully explored reader-response and narrative approaches to unfold
the insights of the Gospel. Lees offering, while sympathetic to the narrativeliterary
genre of approaches, seeks to expound on the profound symbols that permeate Johns
Gospel. Her strategy is to lay out the richness of each of the symbols as they appear in
the narratives of the Gospel. The reader is thus presented not only with a refreshing
study of Johannine theology by means of the symbols, but is also offered an
exploration of the Gospel as a whole through this study of its symbols and their
narrative development.

The Introduction prepares the reader for the study that will unfold. Lee argues for a
post-enlightenment approach to the Gospel, one that moves away from the positivistic
formalism of early historical-critical studies. She commends Gospel readers to honour
an intuitive and affective sensitivity to the Gospel, though not divorced from the
cognitive dimensions of the human person. Lee finds support for this from Paul
Ricoeurs three movements of engaging a text (an initial nave reading; deeper
comprehension of the text; second navet) and Theodore Stylianopoulos three-tiered
interpretation (exegesis; interpretation; transformation). It allows the implied reader
to engage the polyvalence of the Gospel communicated through its symbols. In her
next chapter, Lee further defines the meaning of symbol and the dynamic that is
essential to the Johannine writers task. An exploration of the Gospels poetic and
symbolic nature is seen in continuity with the principles of patristic exegesis. Lee also
draws on the work of Culpepper, Rahner, Tillich, Schneiders and McFague to
develop a strategy for understanding the Gospels symbols that can be viewed as
intrinsic, rather than decorative and revelatory. Such symbols, it is argued, are icons
through which the reader glimpses the glory of the eternal (p.28)

The next eight chapters look in detail at the Johannine symbols of flesh, living water,
love and friendship, God as Father, motherhood, sin and evil, anointing, and Easter. In
her study of each, Lee also brings a feminist perspective that is critical, enriching and
inclusive. Though space does not allow the opportunity to do justice to the depth of
insight which Lee offers on all these symbols, let me offer a brief word on four of
them: flesh, water, friendship and motherhood.

The first major presentation on the Johannine symbols is given over to flesh. Lee
considers this the most fundamental of all the Johannine symbols. This key symbol
reveals Jesus to the reader of the Gospel as the Symbol of God, the true icon from
which all other symbols of the Gospel derive meaning (p. 29). A study of the use of
flesh in the Gospels prologue (Jn 1:1-18) acknowledges the evangelists profound
insight. Flesh is presented as the vehicle of Gods self-revelation and
communication (in terms of logos). It is within the contingency of human existence
that God speaks. The Word becomes flesh. In other words, God speaks in the
transitoriness, transience and perishability of the human condition. Here Gods glory
is revealed. This radical theology of incarnation in the Gospels opening verses is
linked by Lee to other allusions to flesh in the Gospel, especially to the signs and
works of Jesus ministry, and in the passion and resurrection narratives. The piercing
of Jesus side is the climax of the passion narrative, and the narrative moment when
the divine glory is most ironically revealed through the flesh of Jesus. Now Gods
glory is connected to the dead bodythe ultimate paradox of Gods self-
communication. In the final part of her discussion on the symbol of flesh Lee
discusses the implications of this symbol in terms of a feminist Christology. The
incarnation is essential for deconstructing a theology that ignores or downplays the
importance of physicality in our theological traditions (p. 57). Lee argues that it is
essential not to disembody Jesus in an attempt to move away from an approach to
redemption that is linked essentially to anatomical identification. However, rather
than an emphasis on the maleness of the historical Jesus, it is his humanity that
defines salvation for all people, women and men. This is the focus that the evangelist
draws the reader to in the symbol of flesh.

In unfolding the image of water in the Fourth Gospel, Lee considers this a core
impersonal symbol that expands in meaning as the Gospel develops. John links water
to the Jewish feasts. Through Jesus, Judaism is given new relevance and human
beings new identity. Jesus is the one sent by God who is able to offer the thirst-
quenching waterthe ultimate gift of Gods Wisdom and Spirit intended for all. As
Jesus satisfies the deepest thirsts of people in the Gospel he also offers them a new
relationship of love and intimacy that is neither gender nor racially specific.

Lees study of the symbol of motherhood I found the most fascinating. In an

immediately preceding chapter Lee reflects on the Johannine symbol of God as Father
that is foundational for appreciating Jesus relationship to God: God is the source of
life and love for Jesus. This relationship forms and directs Jesus ministry and
response to God, especially in the face of opposition and resistance. Though father
language for God is dominant in the Gospel, Lee suggests that divine allusions to
motherhood are also implicitly present. After presenting the sources for motherhood
imagery in the Fourth Gospel from the Bible, especially the image of Wisdom
Sophia, Lee turns to the motherhood and birth images throughout the Gospel. What is
surprising is how pervading such images are: from references to Jesus mother,
birthing in the story of Nicodemus with the reference to the Spirit depicted in
maternal terms, to the obviously maternal allusions in the references to nourishment
in Jn 6. Maternal imagery continues into the farewell discourse and the passion
narrative. Lee argues, in my opinion convincingly, that at the climactic moment of his
death, Jesus hands over the beloved disciple into the hands of his mother, who
replaces Jesus himself in his earthly ministry [who] has been the mother of the
beloved disciple [p. 153]. Lee explores further how John presents the maternal
dimensions present in Jesus flesh, through the way it is able to give birth and nurture
the community of disciples. She supports this insight into the Gospel by drawing on
other rich, though largely forgotten, sources of our Christian heritage that emphasise
the maternity of God and Jesus. These feminine symbols complement and balance the
more dominant and explicit masculine ones.

Two points for further conversation with Lee surfaced as I engaged with Flesh and
Glory. One, a minor point of difference, is about the sources behind the empty tomb
tradition in the Gospel stories of Easter. I question whether John does draw on and
modify the Synoptic traditions (Mk, Mt and Lk), an approach that Lee finds likely
(p. 220). I would rather prefer to understand that there are stories developing within
the respective Gospel communities about the resurrection and empty tomb in an oral,
pre-written stage of their development. These become the precursor for what each of
the evangelists, including the Johannine writer(s), drew upon. My second point is one
that is more difficult to resolve but concerns the use of language in our contemporary
world, and particularly the language of darkness. I wonder how we can honour the
Johannine understanding regarding the symbols of light and darkness that does not
reinforce the conventional identification today of all that is White (light) is good and
all that is Black (dark) is evil. An unreflective adoption of Johns language could
help to reinforce racial and economic division of our world. This has important
implications for an indigenous reading of the Gospel. What I raise here is not a
critique of Lees analysis of Johns symbol use of darkness. But her exposition has
only heightened for me the need for scholars to wrestle further with Johannine
language and symbolic meaning in a way that can enable them to be inclusive, rather
than divisive. This is similar to the way we reflect critically, for example, on the use
of the Jews in Johns Gospel.

Flesh and Glory is a rich book, sensitively written, attuned to contemporary

Johannine scholarship and challenging of the usually male paradigms used in Gospel
interpretation and exploration of its symbols. Her book sums up previous studies on
Johannine symbolism and expands on them in ways that this reviewer finds
fascinating, empathetic and expansive. To her study of eight Johannine symbols, Lee
also invites the reader to engage them in a way that opens the possibility of religious
transformation that is as timely and relevant as it was for the original readers of the
Gospel. Lee also brings a feminist approach to her study that I, as a male reader,
found engaging and truly inclusive, not a frequent experience when reading the works
of other feminist biblical commentators. Her attempt to include all readers in her
engagement with Johns use of symbols offers possibilities for spiritual
transformation that is not gender specific and touches into the embrace of a God
enfleshed in the Word, Jesus, who reaches out to all humanity and the whole of
Creation. While the book is rigorous study in itself, it offers the potential for reading
the Johannine Gospel in a way that borders on the contemplative.