The Light in the Darkness

 14 And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, 15 that whoever believes in him may have eternal life. 16 “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. 17 Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world but in order that the world might be saved through him. 18 Those who believe in him are not condemned, but those who do not believe are condemned already because they have not believed in the name of the only Son of God. 19 And this is the judgment, that the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil. 20 For all who do evil hate the light and do not come to the light, so that their deeds may not be exposed. 21 But those who do what is true come to the light, so that it may be clearly seen that their deeds have been done in God.”

John 3:14-21 (NRSVue)

The world seems awfully dark right now. State legislatures around the country are considering various forms of book banning, finding new ways to target LGBTQ youth, and even rolling back laws against child labor. Election-year efforts to get out the vote shout that the U.S. is on the edge of doom; everything hangs in the balance.  These verses from the Gospel of John offer assurance that a particular kind of light holds steady, offering hope in the expansive love of God.

One of the foundational stories in the Hebrew Bible is that of the Exodus, of Moses leading the ancient Israelites out of slavery in Egypt and through the wilderness. During the generation-long journey, there are several points where the people get fed up and complain mightily. In one of the most dramatic incidents, God responds to the complaints by sending venomous serpents among the people. When they repented, God told Moses, “Make a poisonous serpent, and set it on a pole; and everyone who is bitten shall look at it and live” (Numbers 21:8). The raised serpent is a symbol of life in the midst of death.

The writer of  the Gospel of John adapts this story as a metaphor for Jesus. “And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life” (John 3:14-15). Jesus is to be “lifted up”; the Greek word has both the literal meaning of lifting up and the figurative meaning of exaltation. The readers of the Gospel of John were already familiar with the story of Jesus, so they would understand the layered meaning. Jesus will be lifted up on the cross, and his crucifixion will also be his exaltation.

The promise of eternal life is repeated in the next verse, and the reason it is offered is elucidated with perfect clarity. “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life” (John 3:16). All the business with Jesus has a single Divine motive: love. “Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world but in order that the world might be saved through him” (John 3:17).

In Numbers 21, condemnation is already the state of affairs. There are already venomous snakes on the loose as a result of the disobedience of the ancient Israelites. Here, too, in John, condemnation is not a future worry but a current state of affairs. “Those who believe in him are not condemned, but those who do not believe are condemned already because they have not believed in the name of the only Son of God” (John 3:18). 

The phrase, “they have not believed in the name of the only Son of God,” is loaded. There is an entire stream of contemporary Christianity that holds onto “believing in the name of Jesus” as the single criterion for faith. There are Christian communities for which speaking aloud a specific sequence of words, such as “I accept Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior,” is a ticket to heaven. Understood in this way, that is not a profession of faith; it is an incantation, a spell which, if spoken correctly, magically produces eternal life. 

This view is too simplistic for the complex world that the author of the Gospel describes in the verses that follow. “And this is the judgment, that the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil” (John 3:19). Judgment is not about a specific formula of words, but rather about love and action.

This verse also hearkens back to the prologue of John’s Gospel, which says, “What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it” (John 1:3-5). Jesus is equated with the light that has been in the world from its creation, a light for the whole world, given out of love for the world as a whole. Like the serpent raised high, Jesus brings life in the midst of death, light in the midst of darkness.

The imagery of light and darkness is problematic in our current context of racism that is parsed primarily in terms of black or white. The use of light and dark as metaphors for that which is good and that which is evil reinforces prejudice based on skin color. In a passage such as this, where light and darkness metaphors mix with the high stakes of eternal life, it is particularly dangerous.

Race, as we consider it today, did not exist at the time of the writing of the Fourth Gospel. In the Western hemisphere, the concept of race was socially constructed during colonization in order to justify and falsely legitimize exploitation and conquest. Christians were involved in every level of this process, from Pope Alexander VI to missionaries to colonists looking to practice their own forms of Christianity freely. The imagery of light and darkness in the Bible did not cause racism, but it provides a kind of raw material out of which beams to shore up structural racism can readily be manufactured.

In this passage in John, light is associated with Jesus and with the love of God for the entire world. Light is explicitly linked with a capacious love that was present from the beginning of creation and includes all of creation. It is therefore opposed to racism of any kind. 

Still, the Gospel reports that “people loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil. For all who do evil hate the light and do not come to the light, so that their deeds may not be exposed. But those who do what is true come to the light, so that it may be clearly seen that their deeds have been done in God” (John 3:19-21).

Light does not only signify the love of God, but also visibility. Those who love darkness are people who want to hide their evil doings, to act under the cover of darkness and avoid accountability. In particular, darkness is a way of hiding evil deeds from the truth of God’s love for the entire world.

When Donald Trump began his presidential candidacy before the 2016 election, I did not take him seriously. He had already done so many unethical things that it was impossible for me to believe people would vote for him. Yet his campaign continued to gain momentum. Again and again, he said and did things so terrible that I was certain there would be a breaking point. Surely no one would vote for him after he publicly mocked a disabled reporter, incited violence against protesters at his rallies, bragged about grabbing women by the pussy. Yet still, somehow, Donald Trump was elected.

He continued to do  things that I thought would turn the tide of public opinion against him: a Muslim ban, taking children from their parents at the southern border, fawning over dictators.  Again and again, I thought, “This time he’s really done it! His supporters will see who he is!” I was wrong. During a rally in his 2016 campaign, Donald Trump said, “I could stand in the middle of Fifth Avenue and shoot somebody, and I wouldn’t lose any voters, OK?” This is, perhaps, the most truthful statement the man has ever made.

Donald Trump seems to have mixed up light and darkness. Deeds that once needed to be hidden, done under cover of darkness, are now done in daylight. Ideas that were once expressed only in whispers are now shouted from the rooftop. It seems like no one is bothering to hide their evil deeds. 

Yet the measure of a deed, in the Gospel of John, is not whether it is done openly or secretly, in the shadows or the light of day. The measure is whether or not it is done in the light that Jesus is and symbolizes, that is, the overwhelming love of God for the entire world.  

This capacious love is exactly what Trump denies. Trump states, through words and deeds, that some categories of people are worse than others: immigrants, Muslims, those who are disabled, women…the list goes on. He is not alone in making fast determinations about who is in and who is out. Many on the political left speak with disdain about those on the right; we have our own “basket of deplorables.” Condemnation is already among us. Yet every effort to cast one group or another as inferior is judged false by the global love of God. 

It is true, these are dark days. There are snakes on the loose. And still, this passage in John offers scriptural and theological warrant for steadfast hope. Life comes out of death; light comes in the darkness. This passage also issues a command: “those who do what is true come to the light, so that it may be clearly seen that their deeds have been done in God” (John 3:21). Both senses of “light” are in play here. Those who act in accordance with God’s overwhelming love should do so in ways that are visible. This is not an encouragement of vanity or merely performative politics. Rather, it is a reminder not to let lies and meanness take center stage. In the beginning, in the middle, and at the eternal end, there is love.