NOTES for Joh 16:15-23

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 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. Here are the words of the hymn:

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.

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. Here are the words of the hymn:

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.

Your sorrow will turn to joy — these astonishing words of Christ express very precisely the essence of Christian hope. It would be inaccurate to say that sorrow will cease and joy will take its place, that joy will replace sorrow. It would be inaccurate to say that joy will arise alongside sorrow, in addition to it. Rather, sorrow itself will become joy, and the two will prove inseparable. There is no Christianity without grief over Christ's suffering and death on the Cross, just as there is none without the joy of the Resurrection. To emphasize this inseparability, the Lord uses the image of the pains of childbirth, which are transfigured by joy at the birth of a new human being.

The various attempts to portray Christianity as the ‘opium of the people’, a religion of groundless consolation, or as a religion of social protest, or as a cult of suffering, founder on this mystery of sorrow's transformation into joy. Human life is always terrible enough, and the Lord always suffers in those who are oppressed and persecuted for righteousness. Yet even in this life there is room for a joy that does not belong to this world and is not given by it. This joy of ours is born of grief and sorrow, and so does not lead Christians away into a world of illusions. It is the joy of the future Kingdom of Heaven, given to us already today. That is why the Lord speaks these most important words, which strengthen Christians: ‘and no one will take your joy from you’. The apostle Paul will later write: ‘nothing can separate us from the love of Christ’.

Jesus says: "You will be sorrowful, but your sorrow will turn into joy." We are used to these words and no longer notice that the logical connection is not obvious. Ordinary logic would be this: "There will be problems now, but do not worry; later everything will work out and all will be well." But Jesus says that the very thing that was the cause of sorrow will also become the cause of joy; if there is no sorrow, there will be no joy.

Indeed, without Good Friday there can be no Easter Sunday. And in the life of each of us there are moments when it is necessary to go through, to live through, something very frightening and painful, because through this small death the Lord will give resurrection.

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).

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.

Why does Jesus not speak plainly to the disciples about His death and His resurrection? The figurative expressions He uses are certainly beautiful and full of meaning, yet, judging by their questions, the apostles still did not understand them. However, it is quite possible that even if the Saviour had spoken plainly of His death and His resurrection from the dead, they would have understood just as little. Today everything is clear to us: after all, we have read the Gospel. At least, that is what we think. Yet, in truth, even today we are familiar not so much with the mystery of the Resurrection as with the accustomed words about that mystery. Perhaps it is precisely those familiar words that Jesus wants to avoid.

The problem here is the same as with His messiahship: had He spoken of it plainly, His listeners would have responded not so much to the substance of His words as to their own clichés associated with familiar words. The same could have happened had He spoken plainly of His resurrection. In Gospel times, the Jews already had some notion of a general resurrection on the Day of Judgment, and it bore little resemblance to what the apostles would very soon see with their own eyes.

Traditional popular notions of resurrection presupposed the coming of the end of time, apocalyptic scenes and the like. No one could have imagined that both the resurrection and the coming of the Kingdom could take place in so ordinary a way. No one expected to be able to walk alongside the Risen One on a road in Palestine. And for the world not to collapse overnight or change in an instant. No one expected such an ‘ordinary’ miracle. And explaining all this to the disciples was practically impossible.

Not because words were lacking: the Gospels were written, after all, and words were found for them. It was simply that the disciples themselves had to become different. To see the Risen One with their own eyes. To see the Ascension. To experience Pentecost and share in the breath of the Kingdom. For the time being, it was possible to speak only of what the apostles would experience in the days that were approaching. Of pain and joy. Of despair and hope. And of the path they would have to set out on in those days, so as to follow it to the end. To the Kingdom in all its fullness.

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."

What day is Jesus speaking about to His disciples? One could, of course, think that He is speaking about the day of His Resurrection, when everything will finally become clear to the apostles and all their questions and perplexities will be resolved. But were they resolved after the Resurrection of their Teacher? The question is not straightforward. Of course, after the Resurrection they understood what Jesus meant when He spoke to them about the completion of His earthly path, but in other respects the apostles still had many questions and perplexities, as well as illusions. It is enough to recall how, already on the day of the Ascension, they were still waiting for their Teacher finally to "restore the kingdom to Israel."

As we can see, understanding was not so simple, and it came to the apostles in its fullness only on the day of Pentecost, when under the action of the breath of God they became different people, joining themselves to the Kingdom. But does this mean that all their questions disappeared at once and all their perplexities were resolved? In part, yes, but if we speak of complete clarity, then it can clearly come only on the day of Judgment, when the Kingdom is revealed in all its fullness. Before that day it is premature to speak of such a resolution. Perhaps, when Jesus speaks about that day when His disciples will no longer ask Him anything, He has in mind not the day of His Resurrection after all, but the day of His return in glory, the day of Judgment and the final triumph of the Kingdom.

For now, He says to the apostles: I came into the world from the Father, and now I am leaving the world again and going to the Father. And it seems to them that they understand Him. They are probably thinking that He is leaving them in order to return soon with a victorious heavenly army, to return as a triumphant victor - the way, in their opinion, the Messiah was supposed to appear to Israel. And He, of course, understands perfectly well what they are waiting for and hoping for, and therefore says that very soon they will all scatter, leaving Him alone: for there will be no victorious war. And in fact there will be no war at all - only death on the cross and Resurrection, and the Kingdom that is "not of this world."

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).

On Good Friday, on a Good Friday that is not distant from us but closer than ever, although we were not yet alive then, Metropolitan Anthony of Sourozh spoke these words from the pulpit. '<...> The Mother stood by the Cross; Her Son, betrayed, reviled, cast out, beaten, torn, tormented, was dying on the Cross. And She was dying with Him… Many, surely, looked at Christ; many, surely, felt shame and fear and did not look into His Mother's face. And now we turn to Her, saying: Mother, I am guilty—among others, yes—of Your Son's death; I am guilty—intercede for me. Save us through Your prayer, through Your protection, because if You forgive, no one will condemn or destroy us… But if You do not forgive, Your word will be stronger than any word spoken in our defense… <...> Let us stand before the judgment of our conscience, awakened by Her grief, and bring a repentant, contrite heart. Let us bring Christ our prayer that He may give us strength to awaken, come to our senses, come alive, become human, make our life deep and broad, capable of holding the Lord's love and presence. And with this love let us go out into life to create life, to fashion and build a world, deep and spacious, that would be like a garment clothing the Lord's presence, shining with all the light, all the joy of paradise. This is our calling; this is what we must accomplish by breaking ourselves, giving ourselves, dying if need be—and it is needed!—because to love is to die to oneself, to cease valuing oneself and instead value the other, whether God or a human being; to live for another, laying aside concern for oneself. Let us die as much as we can, let us strive with all our strength to die, so that we may live by love and live for God and for others.' So close to us is that Friday on which the Metropolitan spoke these words, as are all the Good Fridays that have been and will be. 'I am guilty.' I was not alive then, but I am guilty. We cannot regard this day as a symbolic commemoration of events that once took place. No. For the Body and Blood of which we partake are not a symbol, but the very Body and the very Blood. Here I am, and I am guilty here and now. It is frightening when people begin to greet one another for Easter in advance—this really happens, and happens often! Today I know nothing of Easter; I know only one thing: whether woman or man, I am guilty, for He died, and I did nothing to prevent it.

In the verses of today's passage from the Gospel of John, the Lord speaks of the Spirit, who will come and guide us "into all truth." And why will He be able to do this - to reveal the truth, to free us from our inability to receive it (see John 16:12)? Because "He will not speak on His own, but whatever He hears He will speak"; He will do the will of the One who sent Him. This alone is the pledge of success - and not of personal success, but of the true attainment of eternity.

It would seem, why is this so? The Holy Spirit is God, and He could speak on His own... But we see that Jesus also does the will of the Father who sent Him. The point, apparently, is that between the Persons of the Holy Trinity there is no such division as there is between us and God, and the very fulfillment of the will - this deepest harmony in the actions of the Trinity - happens in a completely different way. This will is precisely one of those things that bind Them, the Persons of the Trinity, together...

So it is for us as well: the will of God, or more precisely, our free consent to it, is called to serve as the connecting link between us and the Kingdom of Heaven.

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).