Why Did Jesus Tell Mary, "Mine Hour Is Not Yet Come" (John 2:4)?

In John 2:1-11, Jesus and his disciples are at a wedding, and the wedding feast runs out of wine.  Jesus’ mother Mary tells Jesus about the problem, and Jesus replies, “Woman, what have I to do with thee? mine hour is not yet come” (KJV).  But Jesus proceeds to turn the water into wine.

Jesus’ statement that “mine hour is not yet come” intrigues me.  The reason is that, throughout the Gospel of John, Jesus’ hour refers to the time of his crucifixion and resurrection (see 7:30; 8:20; 12:23, 27; 13:1; 17:1).  But what does Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection have to do with his reluctance to change water into wine?  “I don’t want to change water into wine right now, for my time to be crucified and resurrected has not come yet.”  That doesn’t make much sense, does it?

In this post, I will interact with four attempts to solve this apparent problem.  I will be drawing from this 2013 post, while also adding two interpretations that I recently encountered.

A.  John Gill speculates that “it was not proper for him to work miracles as yet, lest it should provoke his enemies to seek his life before his time…”  According to this interpretation, Jesus is essentially saying to Mary, “My hour to die is not yet come, so don’t pressure me to do something that might bring that about!”  Maybe this explanation works.  Perhaps Jesus in John 2:4 realized that the performance of his work was a delicate task: that he had to do things just right to get his message out.  Jumping the gun by publicly turning the water into wine might puzzle or anger people prematurely, leading to his death, and thus he would not be able to say what he needed to say, when he needed to say it.  Why, then, did Jesus turn the water into wine?  Because he did so in a private, low-key manner, which would not attract premature attention.

And yet, not long after turning the water into wine, Jesus in John 2:13-25 cleansed the Temple of merchants and money-changers, criticizing them for making his Father’s house a house of merchandise.  Jesus then told some of the Jews to destroy the Temple and Jesus would raise it up in three days, a statement that baffled them.  Jesus also performed miracles in Jerusalem.  Jesus was not afraid to be provocative, baffling, and confusing at the onset of his ministry.  Why, then, did he think that turning water into wine was inappropriate, not long before that?  Was he aware that the ministry that would lead to his death was about to start, and he was not in a hurry to start it?  Did he want his ministry to be defined, not primarily in terms of miracles, but in terms of piety, and thus he wanted to start it with the cleansing of the Temple, not a miracle?  Such a dim view of miracles does occur in the Gospel of John.  In John 2:23-24, Jesus does not commit to people who believed in him on account of miracles that he did.  In John 4:48, Jesus says with some frustration to a nobleman who wanted Jesus to heal his son, “Except ye see signs and wonders, ye will not believe.”  In John 6:26-27, Jesus criticizes those who sought him for his miracles, specifically the multiplications of the loaves, encouraging them instead to seek the food that leads to eternal life.

B.  Related to (A.), George Beasley-Murray in the Word Biblical Commentary on the Gospel of John states the following:

“In this Gospel the ‘hour’ of Jesus commonly denotes his death and glorification (see 7:30; 8:20; 13:1; 17:1). An immediate reference to that hour is scarcely thinkable in this context; it must relate to the service of the divine sovereignty on which Jesus now embarks, which will (as the Evangelist knows) culminate in the ‘lifting up’ on the cross. (If the saying was in the source it would clearly have related to the beginning of the redemptive ministry, and was interpreted by the Evangelist in the light of its end, since the ministry was an indivisible unity.) The import of the statement is to declare that Jesus’ service for the kingdom of God is determined solely by his Father; into that area not even his mother can intrude (cf. 7:3–9 and Mark 3:31–35, and see the excellent discussion of Schnackenburg, 1:327–31).”

In a way, Beasley-Murray interprets Jesus’ hour, not just in reference to Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection, but also in reference to Jesus’ entire ministry, which would lead to Jesus’ crucifixion.  And yet, Beasley-Murray’s reference to John 7:3-9 poses a problem for this interpretation.  John 7:2-9 states:

“Now the Jews’ feast of tabernacles was at hand.  His brethren therefore said unto him, Depart hence, and go into Judaea, that thy disciples also may see the works that thou doest.  For there is no man that doeth any thing in secret, and he himself seeketh to be known openly. If thou do these things, shew thyself to the world.  For neither did his brethren believe in him.  Then Jesus said unto them, My time is not yet come: but your time is alway ready.  The world cannot hate you; but me it hateth, because I testify of it, that the works thereof are evil.  Go ye up unto this feast: I go not up yet unto this feast; for my time is not yet full come.  When he had said these words unto them, he abode still in Galilee.”
John 7:2-9 takes place after Jesus started his ministry.  And, after starting his ministry, Jesus is still saying that his time has not yet come.  Can we, therefore, interpret Jesus’ ministry as part of his “hour”?

What is interesting, though, is that Jesus soon thereafter in John 7 goes to Jerusalem and assumes a public profile by teaching in the Temple and getting into an argument with Judean critics.  Jesus probably realized that he was walking a fine line, or treading on delicate territory.  Jesus did not want to bring about his death before his time, so he was hesitant at times to make a public appearance, lest that could provoke people to kill him.  And yet, Jesus did not impose on himself inflexible guidelines, for he changed his mind and went to Jerusalem.  John 7:30 states that Jesus’ enemies did not lay hands on him, as much as they wanted to do so, for Jesus’ hour had not yet come.  Perhaps Jesus concluded, after some thought, that his enemies could not harm him at that point, so he decided to go to Jerusalem, or to assume a public profile after arriving there.

C. John MacArthur in the MacArthur Study Bible states: “My hour has not yet come. The phrase constantly refers to Jesus’ death and exaltation (7:30; 8:20; 12:23, 27; 13:1; 17:1). He was on a divine schedule decreed by God before the foundation of the world. Since the prophets characterized the messianic age as a time when wine would flow liberally (Jer. 31:12; Hos. 14:7; Amos 9:13, 14), Jesus was likely referring to the fact that the necessity of the cross must come before the blessings of the millennial age.”


I am not overly convinced by this explanation, to tell you the truth.  I do not think that Jesus had to die and rise again before Israel could enjoy the blessings of the messianic age, for such blessings were evident in Jesus’ ministry before he died and rose again.  In Matthew 11:5 and Luke 7:22, Jesus says that John the Baptist should have known that Jesus was the Messiah on account of the healings that Jesus was performing.  Jesus in these passages may have had in mind such scriptures as Isaiah 35:6: “Then shall the lame man leap as an hart, and the tongue of the dumb sing: for in the wilderness shall waters break out, and streams in the desert.”  But, if you only want to consider what is in John’s Gospel in interpreting John’s Gospel, even John’s Gospel implies that the blessings of the messianic age were occurring during Jesus’ ministry.  In John 6:45, for example, Jesus applies the prophecy of Isaiah 54:13 that “they shall be all taught of God” to the people who were believing in him.

And yet, there is a sense in John’s Gospel that certain prophecies in the Hebrew Bible could not be fulfilled until after Jesus died and rose again.  In John 7:38-39, we read (in the KJV): “He that believeth on me, as the scripture hath said, out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water. (But this spake he of the Spirit, which they that believe on him should receive: for the Holy Ghost was not yet given; because that Jesus was not yet glorified.)”

D. Derek Leman raised some considerations in his May 27, 2017 Daily Portion.  Part of what he said is here.

Leman observes that John 10:11 states that Jesus manifested his glory at this first miracle in Cana of Galilee.  Leman goes on to state:

“John interprets Yeshua’s nature miracles, such as turning water into wine, as the Messiah letting slip through the screen a bit of the divine glory that was his from the foundation of the world. Only the creator of water, of grape vines, can transmute matter in such an omnipotent manner. And Yeshua did not pray and ask God to perform the miracle. He apparently did it himself. He let slip his glory, allowing it to show through, for those who paid close attention, and thought deeply about such things. Of course, no one got it. No one understood until the revelation was made more obvious in the ascension and in later appearances of Yeshua from heaven, seated on the throne of heaven beside God.”

Leman later states:

“There is a mysterious indication that Mary knew Yeshua’s divine power, leading even very early in Christian history to speculation about miracles he may have worked in his youth (as in the Infancy Gospel of Thomas). The miracle is a sign fostering belief in his disciples, manifesting his Glory, his hidden identity (vs. 11)…Why does Yeshua feel this is not his business? The answer he gives is that it is ‘not yet my hour,’ meaning ‘my hour to be revealed as the hidden Glory revealed.’ That hour will be at his death and resurrection. Yet Mary is persistent and, as is often the case, Yeshua is willing in spite of his objection…Yeshua may have said his hour had not yet come to reveal his Glory, yet he fosters faith in advance of his hour with this sign and with others that will come. These signs lead to a greater understanding of the ultimate one, the resurrection.”

Leman is saying that Jesus, by turning the water into wine, was revealing his divine glory and power, and Jesus did not want to do that at that time because his death and resurrection were to be the occasions at which he revealed his divine glory.

There is much that Leman does not say here.  Were Jesus’ other miracles occurrences in which Jesus reluctantly decided to reveal his divine glory?

A relevant consideration is that, in the Gospel of John, Jesus quite possibly does his miracles through the power of his Father.  Jesus affirms in John 5:31-38 that the works that he is doing are the Father testifying that he sent Jesus.  In John 14:10, Jesus states that the Father does the works.  Perhaps the miracles that Jesus did in John’s Gospel are different from his turning of water into wine and his resurrection.  When Jesus turned the water into wine, he did that miracle by his own power.  Regarding his resurrection, Jesus implied in John 2:19-21 that he, Jesus, would raise up his own body after it is destroyed.  The other miracles, by contrast, were done by the power of his Father.

Another consideration is that, throughout John’s Gospel, Jesus says that he is glorifying God, not self (John 8:50; 11:4, 40).  In John 17:5, however, Jesus wants God to glorify him with the glory that he had before the foundation of the world.  Presumably, this would occur at his resurrection.  Were Jesus’ miracle of turning water into wine and rising from the dead incidents in which he demonstrated his inherent glory, whereas, in the other miracles, his focus was on the glory of his Father?

I do not know if this thesis consistently works throughout the Gospel of John.  Just looking at John 17 itself, I see that Jesus’ hope is that the Father will glorify him.  Does that imply that Jesus lacked inherent glory, at least before his resurrection (I wonder if I am approaching heresy here)?  Or does it at least suggest that the glorification of Jesus at Jesus’ resurrection was the Father’s glorification of Jesus, not Jesus’ glorification of himself, which would go against what I argued above?  And can we truly differentiate what Jesus does from what his Father does, since they were in each other (e.g., John 14:20)?  Plus, are not Jesus’ glory and his Father’s glory intertwined?

I am open to correction on this, so I will leave the comments on.  Be tactful, though!  And, just to be clear, I am building on Derek Leman’s thoughts here, so don’t blame him for my conclusions.

Book Write-Up: The Gospel of St. John, by J.B. Lightfoot

J.B. Lightfoot.  The Gospel of St. John: A Newly Discovered Commentary.  The Lightfoot Legacy Set, Volume 2.  Ed., Ben Witherington III and Todd D. Still.  Assisted by Jeanette M. Hagen.  Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2015.  See here to buy the book.

J.B. Lightfoot was an English preacher and a New Testament scholar in the nineteenth century.  The Gospel of John: A Newly Discovered Commentary contains previously unpublished writings by Lightfoot about the Gospel of John.

The book offers background information about who Lightfoot was.  Lightfoot had an encyclopedic knowledge of ancient sources and a firm grasp of various languages.  He remarked to a friend that he sometimes forgets what language he is reading when he is absorbed in a text.  This prompts the editors to comment that “There have been precious few biblical scholars over time that could have candidly made such a remark about so many different languages” (page 26).  The introduction also discusses why Lightfoot did not submit his comments on the Gospel of John for publication.  Furthermore, it notes that Lightfoot was unmarried, which allowed him to devote more time to his scholarship.

The book then shares Lightfoot’s writings on the Gospel of John.  These include an introductory piece about the external and internal evidence for the Gospel of John’s authenticity (i.e., its first century date and the apostle John being its author); Lightfoot’s comments on John 1-12; an appendix on the external evidence for the Gospel of John’s authenticity; and an appendix on the internal evidence for its authenticity.  The appendices offer more detail than the introductory piece.

To define terms, “external evidence” refers to voices outside of the Gospel of John that attest to its authenticity.  This includes second century patristic sources and Gnostic voices that acknowledge the apostle John to be its author.  It also includes historical indications that the Gospel of John was known, honored, and used throughout the second century C.E., indicating that it was not written in the late second century.  “Internal evidence” is evidence from the Gospel of John itself.  It includes the issues that the Gospel of John addresses and does not address (i.e., it does not clearly address late second century issues); indications that the Gospel of John was written by a first century Palestinian Jew who was familiar with the language, history, and sites of first century Palestine; and indications that the Gospel of John was written by an eyewitness to Jesus rather than a late forger.

The book concludes with an essay by Martin Hengel (1926-2009) about Lightfoot’s interaction with German scholarship.  Lightfoot was critical of the voices from Tubingen who claimed that the Gospel of John was written in the mid-to-late second century and was not really from the apostle John.  Hengel, who himself taught at Tubingen, provides background about this controversy and offers insights about which direction modern scholarship has followed.  According to Hengel, it has followed Lightfoot in some areas, and Tubingen in others.  Hengel also notes that, while Lightfoot was more conservative than many in the Tubingen school, he was more progressive than Christians who rejected the historical critical method of interpreting the Bible.

Lightfoot wrote in the nineteenth century, which was prior to many notable discoveries, such as the 1948 discovery of the Dead Sea Scrolls, or the 1945 discovery of the Nag Hammadi texts.  Still, Lightfoot did well with what he had (i.e., Josephus, Philo, the Targumim, the church fathers, rabbinic literature, Greco-Roman sources, etc.).  Of particular interest to me were the ways that Lightfoot utilized Josephus to illuminate passages in the Gospel of John and to defend its authenticity.  Lightfoot cites passages in Josephus that may explain the priest Caiaphas’ rude remark in John 11:49 and the Jews’ strange statement in John 8:33 that they were never in bondage to any man.  Lightfoot also refers to a passage in Josephus that sheds light on Samaritan eschatology, and Lightfoot argues that John 4 shows knowledge of first century Samaritan eschatology.  Also of interest to me was Lightfoot’s discussion of what rabbinic literature has to say about differences in dialect between Galilee and Judah.  This issue occurs in the Gospel of John.

In terms of critiques of Lightfoot, there were times I wished that Lightfoot provided references to primary sources.  I think specifically of his comments about the disciples’ question about the blind man in John 9:2: whose sin caused this man to be born blind—-the sin of the blind man’s parents, or of the blind man himself?  Were the disciples implying that the blind man could have sinned prior to his birth?  Lightfoot speculates that they may have believed that God foresaw the blind man’s sins, but Lightfoot also refers to a Jewish view that one could sin in the womb.  Unfortunately, he did not refer to a specific primary source for that.  In my opinion, he should have cited at least one.  He did refer to a secondary source that he wrote, however.  Lightfoot was overall very specific in citing primary sources, but not in every case.

Lightfoot, or at least the editors of this book, also should have compared the Gospel of John with other ancient sources, particularly sources that many scholars believe are pseudepigraphic or historically inaccurate.  Lightfoot argues that there are internal indications that the Gospel of John was written by an eyewitness to Jesus.  The Gospel of John shows knowledge of a first century Palestinian context.  Its depiction of its characters is realistic.  It is vivid and detailed in areas, yet it is elliptical about certain topics, showing (for Lightfoot) that its author was not consciously creating a forged document.  It does not seem to create events from imagination but rather to comment on the significance of events that happened.  Can one find similar features, however, in ancient sources that many scholars would agree are pseudepigraphic and historically inaccurate?

Lightfoot, in his comments on verses, usually quotes parts of the verse in Greek, without providing an English translation.  This will not be a problem for scholars who know New Testament Greek really well.  Readers without that level of familiarity may want to have an English (or whatever language one speaks) translation of the New Testament in front of them when reading Lightfoot’s comments, otherwise they may get lost.

I should also note something else.  If you read Matthew Henry and John Gill, you may notice that they often refer to a “Dr. Lightfoot.”  That is not J.B. Lightfoot, since J.B. Lightfoot lived a century later than them.  Rather, they are referring to John Lightfoot, a seventeenth century English clergyman and author.

I received a complimentary review copy of this book from the publisher, in exchange for an honest review.

Book Write-Up: Why John Wrote a Gospel

Tom Thatcher.  Why John Wrote a Gospel: Jesus—-Memory—-History.  Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2006.

I got this book at a low price from Christian Book Distributors.  It looked like it would be a good book for me to read for two reasons.  First, I have read more than once in the biblioblogosphere that historical Jesus studies are moving away from the longstanding criteria of authenticity, and towards a focus on memory.  For a long time, and even today, scholars have applied criteria to the Gospels in order to determine what parts of the Gospels are historically accurate.  For example, if the Gospels say something embarrassing about Jesus, then what they say in that case is probably accurate, since why would Gospel authors make up something that is embarrassing about Jesus?  If the Gospels present Jesus saying something that is discontinuous from the teachings of early Christians, then Jesus most likely said it.  Nowadays, scholars are saying that there are weaknesses in the criteria (i.e., what we may consider embarrassing about Jesus may not have been thought to be so by the Gospel writers), and many are saying that we should look at memory, particularly social memory.  I have read a number of blog posts about this topic, and yet there are gaps in my mind about it.  I have wondered: Does the focus on memory imply that the Gospels stem from eyewitness testimony, from people who were in Jesus’ presence and remembered what he did and taught, even if they interpreted or applied those things in different ways?  Because Thatcher’s book contains an extensive discussion of social memory, I figured that I might find some answers there.

Second, I have long had questions about writing in the ancient world.  Why were things written down in the first place, when there was oral culture and people passed down traditions by word of mouth?  Why would Gospels need to be written down?  Who did the writing, since writing in those days may have required some wealth or influence due to the costliness of writing materials?

Tom Thatcher’s Why John Wrote a Gospel addresses the question of why the Gospel of John was written down.  He raises some of the same sorts of questions that I have: Why write, when most people arguably could not read, and when there was an oral culture?  But he also asks questions that rest on other considerations.  Why did the author of the Gospel of John see a need to write a Gospel, when he said that the Holy Spirit would bring things about Jesus to people’s remembrance (John 14:26)?  If the Holy Spirit could cause believers to remember what Jesus said and did, would it not be unnecessary to write those things down to preserve them and to keep them from being forgotten? On a similar note, did not I John 2:27 tell believers that they needed no one to teach them because they were anointed by the Holy Spirit?  If John believed that they were so anointed and guided directly by the Holy Spirit, why would he write a Gospel so that they could be taught or remember what Jesus said and did?

Thatcher’s answer is that the author of John’s Gospel was writing the Gospel down to create an official and permanent version of what Jesus said and taught, in opposition to the Antichrists whom I John criticizes.  The Antichrists were denying that Jesus Christ came in the flesh: they may have been saying that a Christ spirit came upon the historical Jesus of Nazareth and left Jesus when Jesus was about to be crucified, or that Jesus only appeared to be human but really was not, but rather was a divine figure.  The Antichrists maintained that they were faithful to the memory of Jesus—-and they may have even claimed that they were witness to new revelations from Jesus.  But the writer of the Johnannine literature did not believe that their interpretations of Jesus’ life were accurate, for he thought that Jesus came in the flesh and died as part of God’s plan.  Consequently, the Johannine author wrote his Gospel.  Writing in those days served to give permanence or stability to certain recollections or versions of a story, which was what the Johannine author wanted to do: once something was written down, that was hard to change, and it was even official, in some sense.  Moreover, because most people could not read, they tended to revere the written word.

I found Thatcher’s book to be useful and helpful for a variety of reasons.  I appreciated his reference to ancient Christian sources that actually specified why the Gospels were written down: to preserve what Jesus said and did.  Thatcher’s discussion of memory was also valuable.  He pointed out that the Gospel of John itself maintains that memory is about more than what Jesus said and did, for it also includes the correct interpretation of those events.  The Gospel of John, after all, says that some of Jesus’ words were misunderstood until after he was resurrected (see, for example, John 2:22).  Moreover, Thatcher argued that memory is social.  Even if we remember doing something in solitude, we did what we did within a social context, and, if we wanted to share what we did with others, we would have to communicate it in a way that would make sense to our social context.  I should also note that Thatcher’s cartoons and visual aids in the book clarified to me what he was arguing.

In terms of criticisms, I have four.  First of all, although Thatcher made a fairly decent case that most Jews could not read in antiquity, he should have interacted with scholarship that argues the opposite, such as Alan Millard’s Reading and Writing in the Time of Jesus (see here, both my post and the comments).  Second, Thatcher states that people may not have even read the Gospel of John, but he should have interacted with the question of whether they would have read from it in church services, as Jews hear the Torah being read in synagogues.  Third, I wish that Thatcher addressed the question of who in the ancient world would have had the wealth, power, or resources to write a Gospel, or to contribute to the writing of one.  That could have launched a profitable discussion about the role of social interests in defining what is orthodox and heretical.  And, fourth, I was not always clear about Thatcher’s definition of memory.  I often thought that he believed that it related to eyewitness testimony—-people remembering what they saw—-but he seems to indicate in places of the book that memory can be broader than that: that it can include believing something about the past, or even encountering events through reading a book.

Although Thatcher did not address all of the questions that are in my mind about social memory and writing, I did find what he said about the Gospel of John to be interesting and thought-provoking.  His personal anecdotes also made him a pleasure to read.