Gospel of John, chapter 7: Jesus is in the middle of the escalation. And it is having its desired effect. The crowd is divided: some on His side, some against Him. He can no longer be ignored. And the Pharisees are alarmed. The status quo is in danger of being shattered.

Have the rulers then indeed recognised that this is the Christ? This is where we left off last time, partway into the 7^th chapter of John’s gospel. In the face of conflicting opinions, with eyewitnesses testifying to the merciful (and miraculous) deeds of Jesus on one side and His detractors claiming that He is misleading the crowds on the other, the people want an answer, they want to make a decision; but they are afraid to make it on their own…

As I pointed out when we read chapter 6, the miracle of the feeding of the 5000 stands as a turning point in Jesus’ ministry. To many in that crowd, the miracle (and Jesus’ healing of the sick in the crowd before it) did not speak about the mercy and goodness of God but rather about power – worldly power. So, their reaction was a “kingdom of the world” kind of reaction: they decided they should make Jesus king.

At the beginning of chapter 7 of the gospel of John, when Jesus’ relatives tell Jesus to go to the feast of Tabernacles in Judea and do his miracles before those huge crowds, so that he can attain the notoriety he was obviously looking for (or so, they thought), John ‘s editorial comment is simple: for neither did his brethren believe on him. Yet, in what follows, Jesus is about to show us how unbelief is anything but simple.

Have you ever been misunderstood? It happens. Sometimes we are at fault: we do not think through all the different ways that something we say could be taken, and then the words are out. They cannot be unspoken. But sometimes it is the listener’s filter that is skewed, and we had no idea. It happens. But when it happens among your friends, among family, among people who ought to know you better than that… that’s when it hurts most; and that is when we stand to lose the most.

Χαρμολύπη is a compound Greek word that I love because it concisely expresses a deep paradox of human existence. It can be translated “joyful sorrow” or “bitter joy” or “affliction that leads to joy.” I like it in the same sense that I have always liked the Hebrew name Mara (you may know it in the form: Miriam). It means bitter, but also strong. It was the name Naomi claimed for herself in the book of Ruth when she returned broken to Israel after having lost everything. Yet, if you have read the story, you know God had a plan all along and she played a crucial role. It is also the name of Mary, the mother of Jesus, who sang the joyful Magnificat at the coming of the Savior and at the same time quietly accepted into her heart the full revelation of what His life would be like, and how it had to end to fulfill the promise of that song.