Lectionary Commentaries for June 1, 2025
Seventh Sunday of Easter

Let’s be honest. This excerpt from the Farewell Discourse in John reads like a messy and repetitive word salad. Scholars and preachers throughout history have called this passage in John 17 “Jesus’ High Priestly Prayer,” which makes it sound theologically organized and deeply meaningful, but in reality, our modern brains and contemporary contexts make it difficult to follow its structure or grasp its layered intricacies.

Our confusion is warranted. Scholars have long recognized that the language in the Gospel of John is purposefully unique and multilayered. Experts in sociology and linguistics call this kind of language “antilanguage.”

According to Bruce J. Malina, “Antilanguage” is the language of an “antisociety,” or a society established as an alternative to the greater society around it. Antilanguage serves as an act of resistance against the society at large and produces an alternative reality to that society. The purpose of antilanguage is to maintain inner solidarity within a splinter or sectarian group.¹

In other words, John’s Gospel has its own language world, one that is recognizable to insiders but not outsiders. That language world creates a self-contained reality to maintain unity within the insider group while keeping separation from the outside society. John may seem to be a simple and straightforward Gospel (and it can certainly be read that way) but there is a complex purpose and structure to it that keeps outsiders, including us contemporary readers, at arm’s length from some of its meaning.

There are two techniques employed in antilanguage that can help us unlock pieces of this passage to understand it better—relexicalization and overlexicalization.

Relexicalization is the practice of using familiar words in new ways, usually ways that reflect the vocabulary of an insider group. In John’s Gospel, the insider group is the community (or communities) associated with John and its traditions. First-century history is unrecoverable to us in several ways, so we cannot be 100 percent certain about the group(s) that scholars have called the “Johannine community.” However, considering the kind of language used and stories told in John, both significantly different from the other Gospels, it is likely that the authors and/or recipients of John’s Gospel did belong to a particular Christian community that held a dissenting posture to other Jewish and Christian groups of the time.

So, what words and concepts in John belong to this category of relexicalized words? First, the concept of glory (glorify and glorification) saturates this Gospel and appears in 17:22 (“The glory that you have given me I have given them, so that they may be one, as we are one”) and 17:24 (“I desire that those also, whom you have given me, may be with me where I am, to see my glory”). John uses this term paradoxically, because the word has a positive connotation but it is often used in this Gospel to refer to Jesus’ death. In 13:31, the opening verse of the Farewell Discourse, the term seems to encapsulate the betrayal and denial of his disciples as well as Jesus’ arrest, torture, and death. That doesn’t sound much like glorification.

Another relexicalized concept that carries through the whole Gospel is the idea of Jesus as “sent.” Throughout the Gospel Jesus is described as the one sent from God, and the description often comes from Jesus’ mouth (4:34; 5:23; 6:39; 7:33; and 12:44–45, to name a few instances). Although this concept is foreign to the Synoptic Gospels, it could be argued that John uses “sent” as the key descriptor for Jesus in his Gospel. It appears three times in our passage (17:21, 23, 25) and is key to Jesus’ self-identification here.

The last instance of relexicalizing pertinent to our passage is also the key concept of the excerpt—the idea of “being one” or “being one with.” In the chapters leading up to the Farewell Discourse, Jesus almost exclusively uses this phrase to describe his relationship to the Father—Jesus is one with the Father and does the Father’s work and will (5:17–23; 10:30). Here, the focus shifts and Jesus extends his oneness with the Father to the disciples—“so that they may be one, as we are one” (17:22).

This concept of “being one” also provides an example of the second technique used in antilanguage: overlexicalization. Overlexicalization involves assigning a network of words or phrases to the same concept, effectively repeating that concept using a variety of different metaphors. The idea of “being one” from this passage gets repeated in different ways throughout John and the Farewell Discourse itself. All of the following phrases capture the idea of “being one” with Jesus: “believing in/into Jesus” or “following” him, “abiding in” him or “loving” him, “keeping his word,” “receiving” him or “having” him or “seeing” him.

Extending the idea of being one with Jesus to being one with each other (the central point of our excerpt), these images also communicate “being one”: knowing God and making God’s name known (17:26), loving them “as you have loved me” (17:23, 26), the Father being “in” Jesus and Jesus “in” the disciples (17:21, 23).

So, how do antilanguage, relexicalization, and overlexicalization help us interpret this passage? They give us the background necessary to understand that we are outsiders looking in on a closed language system and group. Countless interpreters throughout church history have come to this passage to defend the unity of the church universal, but if John’s community was an antisociety and their language was meant to unify within while separating from other religious groups of the time, then we may need to rethink what “being one” means in the context of the High Priestly Prayer and in our own.

 Notes

1. Bruce J. Malina has produced many academic works on the sociolinguistics of biblical literature, especially John’s Gospel, but the bulk of them are behind a paywall, accessible only through libraries. For an online summary of his work on John’s language, see https://www.earlychristianwritings.com/info/john-maverick.html.

Ripples of Freedom

Acts 16:16–34 begins with a walk to the place of prayer. We can’t fully know what Paul and Silas’s walk was like that day. We know this was not their first time traveling to this place of devotion and community. But on this particular day, they were met by someone in need of liberation. It was a moment of movement, of rippling.

A ripple can be seen on the water’s surface, but the cause of the vibration is not always known. Perhaps in that initial moment, Paul and Silas did not fully understand the nature of what was happening. Yet, they willingly engaged what was on the surface, leaning on faith to do the rest. What remained yet unseen was whether this was more than a momentary ripple. In fact, it was a ripple that would lead to personal deliverance. This moment would take a winding path to the liberation of many. What began as a ripple would turn into a tidal wave.  

Liberation often happens non-linearly, extending freedom like a river’s flow while calling out to those searching for relief. The flow continually moves and gathers the oppressed, lost, and blind. When we imagine ripples, we may picture a stone thrown into a pond. The first touch between stone and water and the resulting splash are strangely mesmerizing. The ripple effect spreads outward, touching whatever is in its path. Freedom is the same. Whether political, spiritual, or social, the ripples of freedom inspire, ignite, and shape the freedom God has called into creation.  

Enslaved … set free (Acts 16:16–18)

Ironically, as we see in verse 17, one who needed freedom could clearly call out the source of salvation but could not so clearly embrace that salvation. The same spirit that oppressed her could see the presence of the way of redemption—the way that is Jesus Christ. It is also meaningful that she refers to Paul and Silas as “slaves of the most high God” (verse 17) while she was enslaved by the spirit of divination and those who were taking advantage of her torment.  

Spiritual oppression and human domination are eradicated with a word from Paul, as the Holy Spirit empowers him. She then disappears from the narrative. We do not know the whole story of how the ripple effect of her liberation continues for her.  

The ripples of freedom are not always easily perceived or discerned. However, we see how this act of emancipation sets off a chain of events that initially seems like disaster. Yes, ripple effects can be deceptive. The surface movement does not always tell the whole story. The moment of salvation for the enslaved woman leads to greater spiritual freedom for others. Her freedom is a ripple that influences the entire situation in Philippi, even though the immediate result is the unjust imprisonment of Paul and Silas. 

Imprisoned … set free (Acts 16:19–26)

Though Paul and Silas are physically imprisoned, they are spiritually free. Beaten and humiliated, the balm they reach for is prayer and singing praises to God. This is a wondrous manifestation of the freedom of Christ, enabling the transcendence of finite circumstances. What must the other prisoners have thought and felt during this spontaneous worship session? The text shares that they were listening. What were they perceiving? Was this a moment of the ripples of faith ushering in a coming tidal wave of conversion? What should have been a time of defeat was a time of celebrating the gospel.  

Amid the transcendence, a miraculous event occurs. The ripples become an earthquake. In the confusion and shock, the violence of the earthquake seems like one thing, but there is more to be revealed. Here again, a moment of liberation is initially mistaken for a disaster.  

Jailer … set free (Acts 16:27–34)

The jailer’s immediate response is fear and despair. Maybe we can relate to this. God’s power is overwhelming. Without individual formation and communal guidance, transformative encounters with God can seem like an ending rather than a beginning.    

The moment the jailer asks, “Sirs, what must I do to be saved?” (verse 30) is critical. This is a moment of surrender. This is his moment of recognizing that the source of Paul and Silas’s worship was the same as the source of the earthquake. Paul extends himself to the jailer out of compassion. His answer, “Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved, you and your household” (verse 31), offers spiritual freedom to the jailer and transformation for his entire household and anyone else who hears their testimony of conversion and faith. 

The ripple effect of this liberty extends beyond the jailer and his family, as they now become part of the growing Christian community in Philippi. The jailer’s faith and subsequent baptism demonstrate how, once experienced, freedom can lead to an uncontainable joy and a desire to share that freedom with others. The ripples of his newfound faith will likely continue to spread throughout the city.

The one who had kept Paul and Silas in chains then offers comfort and care for their wounds. This is the power of Kingdom-community. The tidal wave of freedom produces tangible transformation, which manifests in many ways. The jailer’s rejoicing symbolizes the intangible goodness transferred from convert to convert.  

Conclusion

Ultimately, the jailer and his family’s conversion contributes to establishing the Christian community in Philippi. Later in the New Testament, Paul writes to the Philippians, encouraging them to remain faithful and to continue living out their newfound freedom in Christ. The church in Philippi, which began with the liberation of the enslaved girl and the jailer’s conversion, serves as a living example of how the ripples of freedom flow on the river of divine love, grace, and mercy. May we have the sensitivity to see the ripples and follow their lead.  

The exposition of Psalm 97 need not be overly complex.¹ The arrangement of the text defines a clear, three-part structure of which the preacher can make good use.

Part one (verses 1–5): The Lord reigns in unmatched and inconceivable power

The assertion of God’s kingship should ring familiar to even occasional readers of the Psalter. The images that this psalm in particular marshals to depict the sheer power of the Lord’s rule are, however, quite striking. The Lord is so supremely mighty that he wears thunderstorms like human kings might wear fine robes. Where an ordinary king might employ a herald, or possibly some troops to go ahead of him and announce his presence, the Lord sends forth fire that consumes all that might oppose the divine will.

God is, in fact, so blazingly, transcendently powerful that the creation itself, the earth and the mountains, cannot stand the force of God’s presence—the earth quakes and trembles, and the mountains dissolve like overheated candles. The preacher can certainly highlight this segment of the text to good rhetorical effect, possibly exploring connections to other texts recounting the dramatic appearances of God in similar storm imagery. 

The note in the second part of verse 2 must not be overlooked, however. Amidst all the pyrotechnics surrounding the Lord’s presence, the psalm remarks that “righteousness and justice are the foundation of his throne.” In other words, the divine kingship that is so graphically illustrated in this passage has its basis in the complete rightness that makes for wholeness, peace, and goodness, and in the actions that are taken in order to pursue and advance such righteousness. Ultimately, then, the first thing that Psalm 97 has to declare is that the Lord is the almighty king whose reign is based on and acts in favor of what is good and right.

Part two (verses 6–9): Creation responds to the presence of the Lord

The coming of the Lord in such power irresistibly calls forth a response from both the inanimate creation and the human community. They see and acknowledge both the magnitude of God’s power and the righteousness that defines and directs it. Next, the text focuses on those who are not worshipers of the Lord, and declares that their dependence on and allegiance to their idols are revealed to be ludicrous in light of the Lord’s transcendent glory. Finally, Israel, as God’s particular people, is described as responding to the Lord’s superiority over all other powers with celebration. 

The preacher may find here numerous points of connection with the congregation. The church ought to feel the impulse to respond to God’s glorious and powerful works with witness and proclamation. All people need the reminder that dependence on any other power is ultimately futile. The church as a body of God’s covenant people is called to celebrate God’s mighty acts as a central feature of their common life and worship. Psalm 97 makes and illustrates all of these claims.

Part three (verses 10–12): Individuals are called to respond

The final segment of the psalm considers the question of how an individual ought to respond to such a God. Verse 10 is the crux of that response, and, unfortunately, the Revised Standard Version and New Revised Standard Version make an unnecessary change to the underlying Hebrew text that obscures the point. It is best to read the opening line of this verse, along with most translators, as an imperative: “O you who love the LORD, hate evil!” (English Standard Version). This is, fundamentally, the hallmark of a life lived in proper response to the power, righteousness, and justice of the Lord: the rejection and abhorrence of evil—which is to say, of any thought, word, or deed that runs contrary to righteousness. This done, the worshiper of the Lord is free to enjoy the benefits of his reign: light, joy, and thanksgiving.

Clearly, the preacher’s principal task here is to acknowledge and deal with the fact that human beings are, to put it mildly, not all that good at hating evil and rejecting all unrighteousness. Indeed, when the thorough and consistent unrighteousness of human conduct is considered, the psalm’s presentation of God’s thunderous power and his absolute opposition to evil is unnerving.

That point being made, a move to the Lord’s gracious work of overcoming human sin is in order. Depending on the preacher’s particular setting, this can come by way of prophetic passages like Jeremiah 31:31–34 or by moving directly to New Testament texts treating forgiveness of sin and God’s reconciliation with humankind. Either way, the point is to offer the congregation permission and encouragement to strive in good faith to follow the psalmist’s exhortations and to rejoice, give thanks, and await the dawning of light and joy with good confidence.

Notes

1. Commentary previously published on this website for May 29, 2022.

We live in a world obsessed with editing. We polish, refine, and filter everything from our photos to our bodies to our words, shaping reality to fit an idealized version of itself. Social media allows us to curate our lives, removing imperfections, while political and historical narratives adjust to serve particular agendas. Even in personal conversations, we carefully choose our words, afraid of saying the wrong thing. We amend and modify, censor and reframe, cut and redact, clean up and iron out. In short, we have grown accustomed to editing the things we don’t like. 

Biblical texts are no exception. We have translated and retranslated, interpreted and reinterpreted, and selectively emphasized certain verses and passages over others to align with our ever-changing theologies and beliefs. This week’s lectionary passage provides two examples of our tendencies to edit and reassemble scripture. 

Editing out the ugly 

One approach to reading a difficult text is to edit the bad bits out. This is the strategy of this week’s lectionary text, and thus the insults in verse 15 are skipped over: “the dogs and sorcerers and fornicators and murderers and idolaters, and everyone who loves and practices falsehood.” But another course of action is to confront the text head-on and push back at such harmful language. This is a better option because it helps point to needed areas of growth within the Christian tradition. With the continual rise of Christian Nationalism and public vitriol, we are in need of this now more than ever.

When confronted with opposition, we often default to name-calling and polemical language rather than engage in meaningful dialogue. We reduce complex ideas and individuals to simplistic labels, dismissing those who disagree with us as foolish, corrupt, or dangerous. This instinct to vilify rather than understand deepens our divisions and shields us from the discomfort of wrestling with our own ideas and values. In the verses that this lectionary reading edits out, John of Patmos resorts to polemical language and name-calling. 

In his letters to the seven churches, John does not shy away from naming his opponents. He is quick to draw attention to those who disagree with him, and he is not afraid to call them names. For example, in his letter to Thyatira, John writes against a woman he names “Jezebel” (2:18–29). John strongly disagrees with her teaching, especially as it relates to her acceptance of cultural participation and practices John deems idolatrous, although her teachings were not fringe ideas and were likely widely accepted. 

John similarly turns to name-calling in Revelation’s final chapter. His list of outsiders in verse 15 recalls earlier lists and instances of name-calling in Revelation. These lists and names similarly sought to discourage cultural participation and other idolatrous practices that recognized false gods and celebrated the false claims of imperial rulers. John’s language serves to denigrate his opponents’ identities in order to affirm his own viewpoints and identity as a revelator and prophet of God. 

John’s practice of name-calling is a harmful one, and Christians continue to utilize this practice today. As I constantly remind my students, the way we read a text impacts the way we treat people in the world around us. In order to move beyond this harmful behavior, we must be willing to confront it head-on.   

Filtering in what we want to see 

If you are in the practice of reading multiple translations in preparation for preaching, you might notice some discrepancies in Revelation’s ending. It concludes with a standard closing, resembling the final remarks of other New Testament epistles: “The grace of the Lord Jesus be with …” (22:21). The ending of this standard closing, however, differs depending on which translation you read. Some translations focus on a particular group of people, choosing “with the saints” (American Standard Version; New Revised Standard Version) or “with God’s people” (New International Version) or “with God’s holy people” (New Living Translation). Yet others read a collective second-person pronoun: “with you all” (King James Version). Still others choose a more comprehensive adjective, opting for “with all” (English Standard Version; New American Standard Bible).

These variations in translation are in large part due to variance in the ancient manuscripts. There is a lot of variety in the textual witnesses, and this makes it difficult for biblical scholars to settle on an “original” translation. While many of the textual witnesses include “the saints,” two strongly relied-upon manuscripts support the shorter translation that does not include this more specific designation. These manuscripts simply read “with all.” Maybe the earliest text was “with all” but later Christians wanted to limit the blessings to Christians and added “the saints.” Any answer is merely our best guess and often exposes our own theological commitments. 

The question remains: Who receives the grace of the Lord Jesus—just the seven churches Revelation addresses, all God’s holy saints, or every person everywhere? The vision of grace we choose to highlight—be it a limited grace or an expansive one—often has more to say about our own practice of grace than it does God’s. In a world that increasingly attempts to narrow definitions of gender, citizenship, et cetera. in efforts to demean and exclude, our translations matter more than ever. What might it look like for the church to err on the side of inclusion? 

A continuous invitation to grace

In Revelation 18:4, John calls his audience out of cultural participation in the Roman Empire with the command, “Come out of her, my people, so that you do not take part in her sins.” This is the heart of John’s apocalypse. Yet, in the final chapter, on the banks of the River of Life, the Spirit and the Bride invite John’s audience to “Come!” and receive the gift of life (22:17). In contrast to the previous prohibition, this command is an invitation to join God and to join God continuously (a present-tense verb). In contrast to the simple command in 18:4 (an aorist verb), John’s final vision stresses the continual grace of God. We aren’t just invited; we are invited without end.