Scotty McLennan

By Scotty McLennan

In my Presbyterian Sunday school, there was one Bible passage that all children had to memorize and never forget:  "For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life" (John 3:16).   We were told that the whole Bible was summed up in that verse:  God's love, Jesus's mission in the world, the importance of belief in him, and the assurance of eternal life if we did believe.  But I couldn't quiet my theologically precocious mind.  This passage raised too many questions for me.  Why would a loving father knowingly give up his only son to a horrifying, torturous death?  What about all the people who didn't believe in Jesus; would a loving God deprive them of eternity even if they tried really hard their whole lives to be the best people they could be?  And wasn't Jesus primarily about how we should live in this world, rather than about life in the hereafter?

I now believe in the Jesus who modeled, for all, unconditional love, nonviolent resistance to evil, and unassailable hope.  I want to learn how to walk in Jesus's footsteps, to gain even a fraction of a heart like his, to develop an ounce of his strength and fortitude, to become more filled with the Spirit of God myself through his example and teaching.   In the words of John 3:19, I want to love the light that comes in and through Jesus; I want to do deeds in God, not in the darkness.  But when John is interpreted as delivering a religiously exclusivist message -- there's only one way to God -- I believe we're leaving the true Jesus.

I've found the work of Catholic nun Joan Chittister very helpful in re-framing Jesus from a darkness-or-light, truth-or-falsehood, heaven-or-hell figure to the open, tolerant, forgiving, loving teacher and exemplar whom the Bible presents most of the time as its majority view.  In her book In Search of Belief, Chittister describes coming home from second grade at parochial school to tell her mother, "Sister said that only Catholics go to heaven."  Joan was raised by her Catholic mother and a Protestant stepfather, whom she loved very much and knew to be a very good man.  Joan's mother responded carefully, "Oh really?  And what do you think about that, Joan?"  Joan took a deep breath and answered, "I think Sister's wrong."  Her mother pressed her:  "And why do you think Sister would say a thing that's wrong?"  Joan slowly whispered, "Because Sister doesn't know Daddy."  Her mother stood there, just smiling at her.  "To this day," Chittister writes,  "I can still see her look, still feel the grain of her apron against my face.  She shook the suds off her hands, pulled me up close against her warm, hard stomach, and said, 'That's right, darling.  That's right.'" We can be sure that Joan's mother would have said the same thing if Joan's Daddy had been a Jew, a Muslim, a Hindu, a Buddhist, or an agnostic or atheist Humanist.  As Chittister writes, "Sister clearly did not know what I knew.  Sister had not seen what God saw."

Lutheran pastor John Stendahl has written in The Christian Century (3/10/09) that part of the appeal of John 3:16 for many people is that it throws them a lifeline when they are sinking, when they are drowning in the tumult and chaos of life.  A parishioner told him how her life had been saved, metaphorically and perhaps literally, by choosing light over darkness in a Christian fellowship at a critical time in young adulthood -- in fact probably by choosing life over death in the warm embrace of fellow Christians who took her in, cared for her, and worried her back into health and wholeness and holiness by helping her walk in the footsteps of Jesus.  The message was simple, and black and white, and powerful.  Believe in Jesus and you will be saved: "Whoever believes in Him should not perish."

I affirm there are other forms of saving faith -- in the teachings of the Buddha, in the Qur'an, in the law and the prophets of Judaism, in the avatars of Hinduism, in the ethical teachings of Humanism, and in many other wisdom traditions.   But for Christians Jesus saves, and John 3:16 succinctly reminds us of that.  As Pastor Stendahl puts it, if you're "drowning and going down for the third time, you either grab the lifeline or not.  You take that drink or not, put the needle in your arm or not, despair or hope, lie or speak the truth.  No shades of gray...Sometimes that's what it's all about:...yes or no."  The dualism of light and darkness can be very helpful as an empowering imperative for decision-making.  It becomes dangerous only when it's theologized into an unforgiving judgmentalism. 

For Jesus reminded us to "Judge not." (Luke 6:37)  He asked us to forgive someone who sins not just seven times, but seventy times seven.  (Matthew 18:22)  He taught, "Blessed are the merciful."  (Matthew 5:7)  He told us that the true loving neighbor was not the priest of his own religious tradition who passed by a beaten man on the side of the road, but the heretical foreigner who stopped to help.  (Luke 10: 25-37)  Joan Chittister points out that Jesus even at the end, even in the midst of a horrifying execution on the cross, exclaims "Father, forgive them." (Luke 23:34)  And he's not asking for eternal mercy for those who believe in him.  To the contrary, he's reaching out with his love and compassion to the pagan Roman soldiers who are casting lots for his clothing, offering him sour wine, and mocking him, saying, "If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!" (Luke 23:34-37)  As Chittister puts it, "Jesus -- come to the fullness of humanity, the end time, the final moment -- goes burned into our mind as a forgiver.  Clearly, to be everything we can become, we must learn to forgive."

Jesus comes not as a shepherd punishing wayward sheep, but instead always trying to bring them back into the flock, into the fold -- trying to restore them to the beloved community of nurturance and caring.  It is hell to be separated from the beloved community of goodwill.  The religious response must not be one of condemnation for those who go astray but one of compassionate outreach.

So, this is how I now interpret John 3:16 in its Biblical context:  For God so loved the world, that he sent Jesus as a Spirit-filled exemplar and teacher (along with others like Moses) to help us have a full understanding of how to live our lives.  Jesus was not one to condemn others for their evil deeds, but instead to attract them to a new light-filled path of love.   People would be saved on this path, in the sense of finding meaning and purpose in their lives.  Or, they could choose to remain in the darkness of their evil and sinful ways, never experiencing the light of the new day that has now come and the supportive, compassionate, beloved community that's continually being built in the sun.  May all ultimately find immortal love as their way of life.