But Jesus did not trust himself to them, because he knew all men, 25, and because he had no need that any one should testify of man; for he knew of himself what was in man.

Jesus is no more dazzled by this apparent success, than He had been discouraged by the reverse which He had undergone in the temple. He discerns the insufficient nature of this faith. There is a sort of play upon words in the relation between οὐκ ἐπίστευεν, He did not believe, did not trust Himself, and ἐπίστευσαν, they believed, John 2:23. While they considering only the external facts, the miracles, believed, He (αὐτὸς δέ) not stopping with appearances, did not believe; He did not have faith in their faith. It is because He did not recognize in it the work of God. Consequently, He did not any more treat them as believers. How was this attitude of distrust manifested? It is difficult to state precisely. Probably the point in John's thought was rather a certain reserve of a moral nature, than positive external acts, such as reticence respecting His doctrine or the solitude in which He shut Himself up. Luthardt, “As they did not give themselves morally to Him, He did not give Himself morally to them.” It is a profound observer initiated into the impressions of Jesus' mind, this man who has laid hold of and set forth this delicate feature of His conduct. If he was himself one of the disciples whose call is related in chap. 1, he must indeed have felt the difference between the conduct of Jesus towards these persons, and the manner in which He had deported Himself towards himself and his fellow-disciples. Let one picture to himself such a feature invented in the second century! Nothing in the text obliges us to identify this superior knowledge of Jesus with divine omniscience. The evangelist undoubtedly knew for himself that clear and penetrating look (ἐμβλέπειν) which read in the depth of the heart as in an open book. This superior knowledge of Jesus is the highest degree of the gift of the discerning of spirits (1 Corinthians 12:10; 1Jn 4:1). The clause: and because.... etc., generalizes the statement of John 2:24.

It signifies that, in any case, Jesus did not need to have recourse to information, in order to know what He had to think of such or such a man. This faculty of discernment was inherent in His person (He Himself) and, consequently, permanent (imperfect, knew). ῞Ινα, in order that, is here no more than elsewhere the simple periphrasis for the infinitive (in opposition to Weiss). The idea of purpose, which remains always attached to this word, is explained by the tendency, which is inherent in the need of knowledge, to satisfy itself. The article τοῦ before ἀνθρώπου, “ the man,” may be explained either in the generic sense: man in general, or, what is perhaps more correct, in an altogether individual sense: the man with whom He had to do in each given case (Meyer). But even in this last explanation, the generic sense can be applied to ἐν τῳ ἀνθρώπῳ, in the man, in the following clause. The for would mean that He knew thus each representative of the type, because He knew thoroughly the type itself. However, it is more simple to give to this expression: in the man, the same individual sense as in the preceding clause, and to explain the for by the word: Himself. He had no need of information; for of Himself He knew...

On the foundation of this general situation, there is brought out separately, as a particular picture, the scene of the conversation with Nicodemus. Is this incident quoted as an example of that Jewish faith which is nothing but a form of unbelief John 2:23 (comp. John 2:2), as Baur thinks, or, on the contrary, as an exception to the attitude full of reserve which was assumed by Jesus and described John 2:24-25 (Ewald)? The opinion of Baur strikes against the fact that Nicodemus later became a believer (chaps. 7 and 19), so that the example would have been very badly chosen. On the other hand, the text gives no more indication that the following occurrence is related as a deviation from the line of conduct traced in John 2:24; and John 2:2 even makes Nicodemus belong in the class of persons described in John 2:23-25.Lucke sees in this narrative only an example of the supernatural knowledge of Jesus, but this idea does not correspond sufficiently with the very grave contents of the conversation. In Reuss' view, Nicodemus is a type, created by the evangelist, of that “literary and learned Judaism whose knowledge is nothing, and which has everything to learn from Jesus.” But Nicodemus reappears twice afterwards, playing a part in the history of Jesus (chs. 7 and 19); he was not, therefore, created only in order to give Jesus here the opportunity to convince him of ignorance. If the author inserted this incident in his narrative, it is because he saw in it the most memorable example of the revelation which Jesus had given, in the first period of His ministry, of His person and His work; comp. Weiss and Keil.

The part of this conversation in our Gospel may be compared with that of the Sermon on the Mount in the Gospel of Matthew: these two passages have an inauguratory character. As for Nicodemus, he is at once an example and an exception: an example, since miracles were the occasion of his faith; an exception, since the manner in which Jesus treats him proves that He hopes for the happy development of this faith. The faith characterized John 2:23-25, as Luthardt observes, is not real faith; but none the more is it unbelief. From this point there may be falling back or advance.

How did the evangelist get the knowledge of this conversation? May Jesus or Nicodemus have related it to him? The first alternative (Meyer) has somewhat of improbability. In the second, it is asked whether Nicodemus understood well enough to retain it so thoroughly. Why could not John himself have been present at the interview, even though it took place at night? Comp. John 2:11.

But this question is subordinate to another. Is not this conversation itself, as we have it before us, a free composition of the author in which he has united different elements of the ordinary teaching of his master, or even, as Keim says, put into His mouth a highly spiritual summary of his own semi- Gnostic dogmatics? Finally, without going so far, can it not be supposed, at least, that the subjectivity of the author has, without his having a suspicion of it himself, influenced this account more or less, especially towards the end of the conversation? This is what we shall have to examine. For this purpose, what shall be our touch-stone? If the direct, natural application of the words of Jesus to Nicodemus the Pharisee is sustained even to the end, we shall recognize by this sign the authenticity of the account. If, on the contrary, the discourse loses itself, as it advances, in vague generalities, without appropriateness and without direct relation to the given situation, we shall find in this fact the indication of a more or less artificial composition.

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