Michael Marshall turns to the writer of the Gospel of St John in ‘Lent With the Beloved Disciple’, which Bloomsbury have published as their Lent Book for 2024.
Marshall has served in various roles in the Church of England and further afield; he was Bishop of Woolwich in south London from 1975 to 1984, but since then has focused on teaching, writing and parish ministry on both sides of the Atlantic.
Though I doubt Marshall would claim the same level of prodigy as his colleagues Rowan Williams or NT Wright, his output has been impressive: he is one of a dying breed of Anglican clergymen who write books alongside their other duties.
There remain a few of his kind in the Catholic Church as well – if only we had enough vocations to free up more priest-authors to ply their craft in the service of the Lord. That said, as Cardinal Fernández has amply and recently demonstrated, there are some books that simply should not be written.
Back to St John and Lent. Marshall’s book is designed for personal use and group study as the Church’s preparation for Easter continues, using the Beloved Disciple as a lens through which to analyse the Lord’s journey to the altar of the Cross.
“As the only disciple to have stayed close to Jesus at every stage from the Last Supper to the Crucifixion at Calvary,” Marshall writes, “this eagle-eyed eyewitness [a nice touch] intentionally records subtle details and signs which, when perceived with the eyes of faith, indicate a deeper and far lasting significance”.
The experience of walking with Jesus towards the Paschal Triduum belongs to the whole Church, a point emphasised by Marshall’s choice of opening quotation from none other than Pope Francis himself: “Christian faith is either an encounter with Christ alive, or it does not exist.”
John’s Gospel is the tale of what Marshall calls “a life-changing encounter, recalled by an eyewitness in vivid detail”. It differs from the other three in its sources, but also in its overall purpose and intent, with signs and symbols looming large.
Unlike Matthew, Mark and Luke – all related to each other in ways that biblical scholars have spent millennia trying to unravel – John is desperately keen to make his readers realise that the stories he tells about Jesus are to bring them to an understanding of His cosmic relevance for their lives: “these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name” (Jn 20:30). Marshall calls it “Christ’s new, risen and abundant life, both in the here and now, as well in the hereafter”.
The chapter headings are telling in themselves: “From the Old to the New”, “From a Different Perspective”, “A Night to Remember”, “The Power Game”, “The Dawn of the New Life”, “Empowered for Mission” and, most movingly, “The Transforming Power of Unconditional Love”. Marshall leads his readers through the narrative, gently signposting the moments that John particularly wants them to understand as Jesus encounters might and weakness, faithfulness and betrayal, steadfastness and abuse of power, love and hate.
He does this wisely, too, mindful of the fact that the Christian life can hardly be lived without challenge. Like John, he too uses a sign: a nautilus shell. One of the most complex structures in nature, whose natural geometry Dürer called an “eternal line”, each cavity in its spiral form is separate from and larger than its predecessor.
“As with pilgrims on the road to that more abundant life,” Marshall says, “so with the nautilus: there must be no turning back. So as to prevent such a return to the old lesser self, each previous cavity is sealed off.”
This is a valuable book, whose author exudes gentle authority on the subject he has chosen; perhaps it does not hurt to discern and even to cherish ecumenical wisdom from time to time. Marshall’s conclusion is salutary for Catholics and non-Catholics alike:
“The Church in every generation will need a Peter both as the shepherd and pastor, primarily concerned with feeding and nurturing the flock of Christ, and as an apostle witnessing to resurrection hope. But it will equally never cease to need the witness of a John, as the contemplative, lest the disappointment and continuing evils of the present time tempt us to fall into despair.”
Toby Cafferty teaches philosophy and religious studies in Sheffield.
Photo: ‘The Last Supper’ (with Saint John resting his head in the lap of Jesus) by Valentin de Boulogne. (Photo courtesy Wikimedia Commons.)
This article first appeared in the March 2024 issue of the Catholic Herald. To subscribe to our multiple-award-winning magazine and have it delivered to your door anywhere in the world, go here.
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