NOTES for Joh 16:23-33

In today's Gospel passage we read that the apostles, for some reason, suddenly decided that they believed Jesus had come forth from God. They tell Christ that His words have finally satisfied them, words that had struck them as intelligible and convincing. And the apostles decided that they believed. But as the apostle Paul will say later, "by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not from yourselves; it is the gift of God" (Eph. 2:8). Therefore Christ has to cool the disciples' fervor a little by directly predicting to them that they will soon betray Him.

But, as Christ Himself explains, this prophecy is not for accusation but for consolation. So that afterward the disciples would understand that the Teacher went to the cross even though He knew everything. So that they would have hope in His forgiveness. So that their heart could recover the peace it had lost (see John 16:33).

Can it really be true that now we may ask for anything in prayer? Yet in John 15:7 we read: "If you abide in Me, and My words abide in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you." So it turns out that everything is ultimately tied to Jesus' Message: one may ask for everything, but on one condition - that our desires coincide with the desires of the Heavenly Father revealed in the life and destiny of His Son.

But is the standard set here too high? Undoubtedly high, because it is eternal, opening a dizzying infinite perspective of personal growth. And this last thing is possible only in a constant going beyond the limits of one's own desires, plans, and achievements, and therefore it presupposes constant openness to God in prayer and daily life, and growth in unity with Him up to His plans and scale.

As for material sufficiency and prosperity, from Jesus' point of view these things were only tools that can be used in different ways. In any case, they can hardly be objects of passionate desire for Christ's followers, because in themselves such things neither bring one closer to God nor move one away from Him. In the end, some people have more luck in life, some less; someone can become a millionaire, and someone can end up at the bottom. But amid every possible circumstance of life, the main thing remains a person's ability not to lose joy and optimism from knowing that we are loved by our Heavenly Father, and to look at any trouble or success only as the next task of changing something in ourselves and around us, striving to understand His desires and decisions for the greatest task called "human life."

Today we read a passage from Christ’s Last Discourse with His disciples, in which the Lord speaks of what the Apostle Paul would later call adoption through faith. It turns out that God’s purpose is to give people direct access to the Father through Christ’s incarnation, suffering, and resurrection. The Lord, whom the apostle would call the one Mediator between God and humanity, united Himself fully with human beings in everything except sin. Therefore, He tells the disciples that the Father Himself loves them, and that it will no longer be Christ who asks on their behalf, but the Father Himself who will hear them.

Thus, this concerns overcoming the abyss that separates each one of us from God through the Fall. Ask in My name, the Lord commands His disciples. By being united with Christ through faith, we receive the possibility of addressing the Father in Christ’s name. By becoming one Body with Jesus in Communion, we too become children of God, as John the Evangelist writes so clearly in his first epistle. In this, the source of true life is revealed to us. And everything unworthy of God’s children can at last disappear from our lives if we labor toward this.

This may be the shortest description of Christ's mission: He came - and He went away. But between these two moments something very important was accomplished, something that changed the world forever. The world into which Jesus came and the world He leaves behind Him are, in a certain sense, different worlds.

The world 2,000 years ago is like a room with one door, from behind which a foul stench comes; the coming of Christ cuts a new door through it, giving another way out, and as He goes to the Father, He leaves that door wide open. On the day of Pentecost, through this open door a fresh wind bursts into the room, carrying away all the stench and mustiness in a draft. Life changes qualitatively - a positive perspective appears in it.

When we look at our everyday life, we sometimes lose this perspective. The dirt creeping into our life from behind that first door - through gossip, abuse, rumors - keeps us from breathing freely. But the door to God remains open: we can both push our way toward it ourselves and bring other people there.

At last the moment has come when Jesus speaks to the disciples almost directly, in plain words, about the path that lies before Him. He says: I came from the Father and am going back to the Father. What did the disciples think at that moment? We can only wonder. But Jesus Himself tells them plainly that very soon they will all scatter, leaving Him alone. And then only His Father will remain with Him.

From these words it is clear that the disciples never truly understood the meaning of their Teacher's words, and the events soon to come will confirm this. The same thing happened as with the Savior's words about His messiahship and about the messianic Kingdom: the apostles understood them in their own way, according to the ideas about the Messiah and the Kingdom that belonged to the popular religiosity of the Gospel age. In Jesus' words they evidently saw a hint of some glorification of their Teacher, but more likely an earthly and purely human one. They understood the words "I am going to the Father" not in the sense of His death and resurrection, but in the sense of the outward triumph they expected. After all, the apostles were not so naive that they failed to understand the imagery and symbolism Jesus used. It is just that this symbolism had several layers of meaning. Both glorification and return to the Father could be understood in different ways.

One could see in all this something corresponding to traditional popular ideas about the Kingdom, or one could see what Jesus meant. In the first case everything was simple and clear: Jesus is speaking of Himself as the Messiah, speaking directly and without allegories. God sent Him, His heavenly Father, from whom He comes as a messenger from Heaven, exactly the kind of messenger that popular religious consciousness pictured the Messiah to be. And now He is returning again to the Father, from whom He will at last receive the fullness of authority to establish the messianic Kingdom. An earthly kingdom, of course, since most believing Jews at that time did not imagine any other kind.

Most likely, the disciples of Jesus understood their Teacher's words in just this way. And Jesus, of course, knows this. That is why He says that very soon they will all scatter: He foresees their reaction to His arrest, which will come to them as a complete and absolute shock. Still, He tried to tell them about His path as clearly as it was possible to do, given their expectations and their spiritual condition. Nothing more could be said. From that point on, everything depended on them themselves and on their choice.

It is probably the shortest description of the mission of Christ. He came - and left. But something very important came true between these moments, what changed the world. The world, in which Jesus came, and the world that He leaves, are in a sense different worlds. The world 2000 years ago was similar to a room with one door, from which an abominable stench was wafted. The coming of Christ opens a new door, giving another exit from the room, and He leaves this door opened, when going to the Father. During the Pentecost, a fresh wind rushes through this opened door into the room, with draught bringing stench and mustiness. The life changes qualitatively – a positive perspective appears in it.

When we look at our everyday life, we sometimes lose this perspective. The dirt creeping in our life because of this first door, - through gossips, revilements, rumors, - hinders to breath with full breast. Still, the door leading to God remains open, we can ourselves go to it, and bring other people.

The Lord is speaking to us about peace not for the first time. This astonishing word runs through the whole Gospel: when forgiving sins or healing, Jesus sends a person away "in peace" (see, for example, Luke 8:48); Simeon the God-receiver also speaks of peace (Luke 2:29) as he says farewell to life. But the most important thing is Jesus' call to us: "Have peace with one another" (Mark 9:50). Peace, both between people and the inner peace of the heart, is the most important thing in our life. The words of the apostle Paul remind us of the same thing: "And let the peace of God rule in your hearts, to which also you were called" (Col 3:15).

Yes, the Lord calls us to this peace, which helps us live where we are and colors with joy everything God gives us. And in His conversation with the disciples He speaks terrible words about their betrayal precisely so that they may have peace in Him (see John 16:33). Unlike the way we are accustomed to experiencing such situations, He calls us to peace of heart even after actual betrayal - so that we may get up and go on, continuing to commune with Him.

It always seems to us that what the Lord gives is poor and scant. The parables are incomprehensible to us, and the explanations are too blunt and crude. The apostles heard all sorts of things that evening, but the bitterest words still lay ahead. They had barely said that they understood everything when they received the reply: “You will be scattered, each to his own home, and will leave Me alone.” It would seem so important to understand what is being said, and we so want detailed instructions for dealing with God and the world. But understanding cannot replace love, devotion, and faithfulness to the God who goes to the Cross.

Indeed, how full of joy and exultation is that which comes after sorrow! The Lord says to His disciples: “Your sorrow will turn into joy” (John 16:20). Yes, this speaks of the sorrow caused by the Teacher’s death and of the joy of the Resurrection. And joy comes because the Lord rises and reveals Himself anew to those who seek Him. But what prevents us from applying this passage to our everyday sorrows? Someone has offended us, treated us unfairly, or upset us, and there seems to be no escape from the resentment eating away at our soul... But where is the Lord at that time? Does our heart truly remember His Resurrection and the fact that He will never abandon us? Then why does it not rejoice? I cannot believe that small sorrows, or perhaps even great ones, are greater than the joy of His Resurrection! There are saints, or simply happy people, who always remember this, and they have no moments when they are sad and must struggle with their pride and self-absorption. But on the other hand, we have room to grow, and we have this wonderful possibility: to experience the Resurrection of our Lord every time that, after overcoming resentment and bitterness, we return to His presence.

A remarkable catechist has a universal answer for questions that are too clever: "When you die, ask Him yourself." Yet in today's reading Jesus says astonishing words: "In that day you will ask Me nothing!"

How can that be? Why? Why are all questions removed? Because He will see us - and notice: not we will see Him, but He will see us! And when He looks into each person's eyes, then no questions will remain. Because He was waiting for me, He wanted to see me again, and when He sees me, the true Encounter takes place, after which no questions remain.

This is exactly what the apostle Paul writes about: "For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part, but then I shall know just as I also am known" (1 Cor 13:12).

For us, what is happening at this very moment is often very important. We are concerned above all with our own feelings about what is happening. If we are hurting, the whole world around us looks dark and hostile. And if we feel good, our mood is peaceful, the sun is shining, and the whole world is smiling at us. Of course, things are not always so sharply defined, but most often our feelings tend toward one of the poles...

The Lord, however, is trying to teach us one wise practice: to remember that our condition changes, because nothing human is eternal. Only what is from God is eternal: "My righteousness will remain forever, and My salvation from generation to generation" (Isa. 51:8). Speaking today of a woman preparing to give birth, Christ emphasizes that we must not rely on what we feel now, not weep and lament because of sorrows, but remember not the sorrow, but the joy that will follow it (see John 16:20-22). We should think not by the feeling of the moment, but see more broadly and farther ahead. We should try to look at what is happening with God's gaze, seeking in everything meaning and a reason for joy and gratitude to God.

The Lord tells the disciples that after the joy that entered them with His coming there will follow sorrow, which will then once again be transformed into joy. It is as if there are two days separated by night. It is very important to understand that this night of sorrow, when the Lord lies in the tomb and is not with us, this night of God-forsakenness, is something everyone necessarily passes through who truly walks the path of spiritual formation. The fact that our great teachers also experienced such a state, difficult and grace-filled, bears witness to this. It is known that St. Tikhon of Zadonsk, who lived in the eighteenth century, experienced a mystical night of the soul, but even earlier, in the sixteenth century, the great Spanish mystic St. John of the Cross created an astonishingly deep and rich concept: "the dark night of the soul." It is impossible to explain it in a few words, but in the poem with the same title he gives an allusion to the Paschal hymn "Exsultet," which Catholics sing on Holy Saturday:

This is the night
when once You led our fathers, the children of Israel,
out of Egypt
and brought them through the Red Sea on dry ground. (...)
This is the night
when Christ, breaking the bonds of death,
rose victorious from hell. (...)
O truly blessed night,
the only one worthy to know the time and hour
when Christ rose from hell.
This is the night of which it is written:
and night will be bright as day;
and night is my light and my joy. (...)
O truly blessed night,
in which earth is joined to heaven,
and humanity to divinity.

Let us return again to the experience of Orthodox ascetics. Theophan the Recluse writes this in his commentary on today's reading: "They say that every soul on the path to perfection experiences a similar blow. Darkness everywhere covers it, and it does not know where to turn; but the Lord comes, and its sorrow is transformed into joy." Let us also try, when we are enveloped by the darkness of God-forsakenness, the loss of faith, when "the mind seeks the Divinity, and the heart does not find it," not to lose heart, but to understand that this night is inevitable, and that a New Day awaits us ahead.

As we see, Jesus' disciples understand their Teacher with difficulty. And He continues speaking to them in hints and figures of speech. It would appear that if you are not understood, or not fully understood, it would be better to refrain from figures of speech, since in such a situation they can confuse the matter even more. And yet Jesus continues to speak as He speaks. Why?

On the one hand, one could say that He had already more than once, perhaps even in plain words, told the apostles about what awaited Him. As we see, they did not understand Him then either, just as they do not understand now, and therefore Jesus resorts to images and figures of speech in order to convey better to the disciples what is so important for them to understand.

But the matter was perhaps not only this. Why did the apostles understand Jesus with difficulty when He told them about His death on the cross and His Resurrection? Perhaps, above all, because they were completely unready to hear anything like this, and what they heard shocked them. In a state of shock a person is unable to perceive and analyze anything; he simply falls into a stupor.

Seeing this reaction from the disciples, Jesus turns to images, allegories, and figures of speech, because all this forces the listener not simply to listen, but constantly to think over what has been heard, so that the listener himself can come to the conclusions that otherwise would simply shock him. But when you come to shocking conclusions yourself, as the result of your own reflection, they, while remaining shocking and requiring further thought, still do not knock you off balance as much as the words of a person you trust can do when he lays out before you the very same facts in ready-made form.

And Jesus, like a wise teacher, tries during His last earthly meeting with the disciples to lead them toward an understanding of things without which one cannot enter the Kingdom. For He understands perfectly what they will have to live through in the coming days, and He tries to do everything possible so that the prospect of the Kingdom coming into the world will not be hidden by what they will have to experience.

The disciples cannot understand Jesus' mysterious words: "A little while, and you will not see Me; and again a little while, and you will see Me...". We too can fully share their bewilderment. Even if we know that He said these words to them with His imminent crucifixion, death, and then the meeting after His Resurrection in mind, why are these words addressed to us now? We did not see Him either before the Cross or after the Resurrection.

Perhaps He is speaking of the Second Coming? Perhaps... But here too we hear that the words, the image, and even the very presence of Christ can meet us before the end of the world, when the Comforter brings them with Himself, the One who will speak with the voice of Jesus and teach as the Lord taught, because He Himself will come from the same place from which Christ is from: from the Father.

In speaking to His disciples about His path and His ministry, Jesus could not avoid telling them the meaning of the death that awaited Him. He tells the apostles: My earthly journey is complete; the time has come to part (vv. 5-6). But this is not simply a parting—Jesus leaves so that the Kingdom may be revealed to the world in all its fullness. He says: if I do not complete My earthly, human journey, then My divine fullness will also remain hidden from the world. The apostles themselves will not feel God's breath or come to know the Spirit-Comforter of whom Jesus spoke to them (vv. 6-7).

Meanwhile, the Savior tells His disciples about the coming of the Kingdom. He says that when God's Spirit comes into the world, He will become the chief witness to everything that many people did not want to hear from Jesus and His disciples: the witness to His mission, the defeat of the dark powers, and the sin of rejecting the Messiah sent by God (vv. 8-11). The meaning of this testimony is clear: it is testimony to the Kingdom and to Jesus as the Messiah who brought the Kingdom into the world. No testimony in itself deprives anyone of freedom of choice, of course, and those who reject the testimony of God's Spirit will become persecutors of the witnesses to the Kingdom (vv. 1-4). This is the chief thing; the disciples will learn and understand the rest when they enter the Kingdom and receive the revelation of God's Spirit (vv. 12-15).

Yet the disciples still do not seem fully to believe that Jesus is speaking to them about His death. They are bewildered: what does He mean? Where is He going, and why does He want to hide from them (vv. 16-18)? Jesus then speaks to the apostles with the greatest possible clarity about His death and resurrection. He warns His disciples that they are to experience great sorrow, which will soon give way to even greater joy (vv. 21-22). He promises them that the day will come when they meet again, the day when everything becomes clear to them and they have no questions left (vv. 22-23). Finally, Jesus tells His disciples directly: I came into the world from the Father, and now I am leaving the world again and going to the Father (v. 28).

After these words from their Teacher, the apostles think that at last they understand everything, but Jesus apparently thinks otherwise. He tells the disciples plainly that soon they will all scatter and leave Him alone (vv. 29-32). Yet even the flight of the bewildered disciples is of no consequence: victory over the powers of evil that hold the world captive has been won, and no suffering of the Kingdom's witnesses can now undo it (v. 33).