Johannine Anagnorisis: Current Scholarship and Future Perspectives

Abstract

This article re-examines scenes of anagnorisis (recognition) in the Fourth Gospel by expanding upon established literary and semiotic models. While existing scholarship successfully identifies these scenes as formal tools mapping Jesus’ identity, it leaves crucial textual variations and the underlying cognitive mechanisms unresolved. To address these gaps, this study proposes a revised theoretical framework based on three integrated criteria: narrative criticism, hierarchy of compositional models, and interpretive semiotics. This threefold approach is applied to the representative analysis of John 1:19–34 and 20:1–10. The study demonstrates that textual variations from the standard type scene are deliberate adaptations driven by Johannine theological and narrative demands. Furthermore, this paper argues that Johannine anagnorisis is not of a simplistic or material kind in response to a sign. Instead, it is a profoundly relational event and a moment of mutual self-disclosure between the revealing God and the receptive interpreter.

1. Introduction

The oldest definition of anagnorisis in literary criticism comes Aristotle’s Poetics (Aristotle 1968, 1452a23–30): ἐξ ἀγνοίας εἰς γνῶσιν μεταβολή, “the shift from ignorance to knowledge”, which often coincides with peripeteia, the moment in tragedy when the protagonist’s situation or the course of events undergoes its main reversal (ἡ εἰς τὸ ἐναντίον τῶν πραττομένων μεταβολή). Aristotle also provides a classification of the various types of anagnorisis (Poetics, 1454b20–1455a20). There are recognitions that occur through signs (διὰ τῶν σημείων): a voice, a physical feature, or an object that reveals the identity of the person to be recognised; recognitions engineered by the author to advance the plot (πεποιημέναι ὑπò τοῦ ποιητοῦ); recognitions triggered by the memory of the person to be recognised (διὰ μνήμης); recognitions resulting from logical reasoning (ἐκ συλλογισμοῦ); recognitions that occur through false reasoning (ἐκ παραλογισμοῦ); and recognitions prompted by the events themselves (ἐξ αὐτῶν τῶν πραγμάτων). However, the Aristotelian codification must not lead to a false conclusion: this literary phenomenon is not limited to Greek culture alone. Monographs by Terence Cave (1990) and Pietro Boitani (2021) have documented both the widespread presence of the recognition scene across world literature and the sustained attention it has received from literary criticism across eras, far beyond the boundaries of classical antiquity.

Despite this millennia-long and transcultural success, scholarly interest in the anagnorisis scenes of the Fourth Gospel (FG) is a relatively recent development; it did not emerge until the late twentieth century. As Stibbe (1993a) and Larsen (2015) have shown, the reasons for this delay lie in the history of Johannine scholarship. Until around 1980, the dominant influence of Dibelius and Bultmann’s Literarkritik restricted the literary study of the FG to a few isolated pioneers (whose contributions were collected by Stibbe). Such a study began to gain ground first through the narrative approaches of Culpepper (1983) and Stibbe (1992, 1993b, 1994), and later thanks to Harold Attridge’s (2002) proposal of “genre bending”, which stimulated interest in the literary genres employed by the Johannine author. Research into recognition scenes fits into this trajectory, beginning with the pioneering work of Hitchcock and culminating in 2008 with Kasper B. Larsen’s Recognizing the Stranger: Recognition Scenes in the Gospel of John, the first systematic study on the topic and one which remains an indispensable reference of unquestioned value. This is demonstrated by the few subsequent studies that have continued this research and remain deeply indebted to it. However, nearly twenty years after its publication, it is now possible to reflect anew on the hermeneutical and methodological framework for studying the anagnorisis scenes of the FG. This is the purpose of the present article.

Section 2 outlines the current state of research. Section 3 identifies the main unresolved issues and offers hermeneutical and methodological criteria that are both complementary to and partially divergent from previous studies. Section 4 demonstrates the utility of this proposal by analysing the anagnorisis scenes in John 1:19–34 and 20:1–10 as case studies.

2. Current State of Research

Exploring the possibility that the Johannine narrative follows the Aristotelian canons of tragedy (unity of action, prologue, five acts, and epilogue), F. R. Montgomery Hitchcock (1923) first identified recognition scenes in the FG. Given that tragedy requires anagnorisis and peripeteia at its conclusion, he argued that the problem of recognising Jesus develops in John 18–19, with its resolution in two anagnorisis scenes in John 20: the first between the Risen One and Mary Magdalene, and the second between the Risen One and Thomas.

Subsequently, within the field of narrative studies, R. Alan Culpepper and Mark W. G. Stibbe returned to this issue on multiple occasions. In Anatomy of the Fourth Gospel (Culpepper 1983), Culpepper took a decisive step forward while discussing the nature of the Johannine plot, asserting that “anagnorisis permeates the plot rather than serving merely as a device of the concluding scene, though it is important there too. The whole story is a death struggle over the recognition of Jesus as the revealer” (p. 84). In 1995, he further developed this insight by studying the plot of the FG as an ancient biography in dramatic form, contributing to the debate then at its height over the FG’s genre: biography or drama? Since the plot presents Jesus as the Revealer, “the story unfolds in a series of recognition scenes, until at the end the question is whether or not the reader has recognized in Jesus the eternal Word” (p. 357). Indeed, Culpepper identifies a series of anagnorisis scenes distributed throughout the narrative, aimed at revealing Jesus’ identity to the reader. Some of these are successful: 1:29–34 (John the Baptist); 1:47–51 (Nathanael); 4:1–42 (the Samaritan woman); 6:67–69 (Peter representing the Twelve); 9:1–41 (the man born blind, in contrast to the Pharisees’ failed recognition); 11:17–27 (Martha); 20:11–18 (Mary Magdalene); 20:20–28 (Thomas); and 21:1–14 (the Beloved Disciple). Other scenes, however, result in failure: 3:1–21 (Nicodemus); 5:1–18 (the Jews); 6:1–66 (the crowds); chs. 7–8 (the Jews); and 18:28–19:22 (Pilate).

In The Gospel and Letters of John (Culpepper 1998), Culpepper published his most detailed analysis. Discussing the theme of the macro-narrative and the main episodes of the FG, he interprets the anagnorisis scene as a device borrowed from Greek theatre and used to develop the fundamental opposition on which the plot unfolds: the recognition or non-recognition of Jesus’ identity. Here too, he provides a list of anagnorisis scenes, identifying additional occurrences: 1:36–42 (Andrew); 4:46–54 (the nobleman and his household); 5:1–18 (the man at the pool of Bethesda; failed recognition); 6:1–15 (the crowds; partial recognition); 6:16–21 (the disciples); 6:22–71 (the crowds; failed recognition, except for Peter representing the Twelve); 10:1–39 (the Jews; failed recognition); and 20:3–10 (the Beloved Disciple). However, his most significant advancement lies in his theoretical framework. Indeed, he analyses anagnorisis by drawing on Aristotle’s Poetics and a comparative study of biblical and Greek literature. The Aristotelian description of anagnorisis sheds light on the dual-level operation of this device: it stages the change in relationship between the characters within the drama while simultaneously engaging the audience, who watch the plot unfold knowing from the very beginning the truth that is hidden from the characters. In addition, the study of specific recognition scenes from Greek theater (Aristophanes’ Plutus, Sophocles’ Oedipus, Euripides’ Bacchae) and the Old Testament (such as Gen 18: Abraham and the three strangers at the oaks of Mamre) allows Culpepper to identify the recurring elements of the scene: the presence of two characters, one to be recognised and one to recognise; the ignorance or false assumptions of the recogniser; the declaration of the recognised person’s identity at the moment of recognition; the offering of a proof or confirmation by the recognised party; and a change in fortune for either one or both of them. His conclusion anticipates the developments in Larsen’s Recognizing the Stranger: “the Gospel of John has taken the anagnorisis and developed it as recurring type scene […]. The narrative is composed of a succession of recognition scenes” (p. 77).

Around the same time, Stibbe (1992, 1993b, 1994) published a series of studies on the literary analysis of the FG. Moving beyond Culpepper’s framework, he sought to integrate modern narrative approaches with both historical and socio-literary criticism. This integration was adopted to some extent by Culpepper himself in 1998, in response to criticisms levelled against Anatomy, namely that it treated the FG as pure fiction without considering the historical weight of the facts, and that it overlooked the ancient literary context by relying exclusively on contemporary narratological models. Stibbe emphasises the historical dimension of literary analysis, showing that the literary devices employed by the author of the FG serve a rhetorical purpose aimed at shaping the social identity of the recipients (the socio-historical level), and that these same devices reflect the cultural grammar of the author and his environment (the historical-literary level). Regarding anagnorisis, Stibbe focuses on both its thematic role (the recognised or unrecognised identity of Jesus) and its rhetorical effect. Much like irony, anagnorisis exploits the dual narrative level that characterises the FG; it forces readers into a continuous confrontation between their own knowledge of the identity and origin of Jesus of Nazareth, shared with them from the prologue onward, and characters’ ignorance. The readers thus watch, as privileged spectators, the challenge of recognition that the characters must face (Stibbe 1992, pp. 121–47; 1993b, p. 30).

About a decade later, Jo-Ann A. Brant (2004, pp. 50–57) also explored the affinities between the FG and ancient Greek tragedy, highlighting the dual rhetorical level of anagnorisis. Building upon Culpepper’s insights, she analyses Mary Magdalene’s recognition of Jesus (20:11–18) and identifies two operational levels in the scene. On the dramatic axis, anagnorisis concerns the change in the relationship between the characters, that is, the action unfolding within the story’s timeframe: the successful or failed recognition of Jesus’ identity either resolves or generates conflict between Jesus and the deuteragonists, and these recognitions advance the plot by mobilising growing opposition to him. On the theatrical axis, however, anagnorisis engages the readers. Since recognition is an emotional, affective, and cognitive internal process, a communicative strategy is required to make it known. In tragedy, which lacks a narrator, the revelation of the completed recognition occurs through the characters’ words and actions, allowing the audience to see and hear what takes place within their interiority. Conversely, in a narrative, this revelation is usually entrusted to the omniscient narrator. Yet, although the FG is a narrative, it follows the tragic model: in Mary Magdalene’s recognition of Jesus, the narrator retreats, leaving it to the character’s own words and actions to express her cognitive shift—much like the anagnorisis featuring Electra in the eponymous tragedies of Sophocles and Euripides.

Larsen’s monograph (Larsen 2008) explores the theme of recognition systematically, aiming to demonstrate that: (a) numerous scenes of encounters between Jesus and various characters thematise the question of Jesus’ true identity; (b) the theme is developed by playing with the conventions of ancient anagnorisis scenes; and (c) the function of these scenes for the Johannine readers shifts over the course of the narrative.

To address these challenges, Larsen grounds his theoretical framework in both ancient literary criticism and modern semiotics. Drawing on the Aristotelian theory of anagnorisis and a comparative study of recognition scenes in biblical, Jewish, and Greco-Hellenistic literature, he reconstructs a model for a type scene organised into five stages: encounter, cognitive resistance, offering of a recognition sign, recognition, and the protagonists’ reaction and reunion. Furthermore, by adopting Greimas’ (Greimas 1966; Greimas and Joseph 1976, 1979) analytical distinction between the pragmatic dimension (the narrated events) and the cognitive dimension (the knowledge of those events), Larsen identifies the recognition scene as the formal interpretive key to the entire FG. Indeed, the prologue (1:1–18) immediately reveals that Jesus is the incarnate divine Logos, but this information remains the exclusive preserve of the reader. The readers, however, unlike the characters, can no longer encounter Jesus physically. Consequently, while the characters within the book must grapple with the question of his identity, readers must confront the Johannine narrative’s claim to knowledge of that identity. The primary objective of the FG, then, is not the pragmatic dimension, but the cognitive dimension developed within an epistemological plot. This plot revolves around how knowledge of the protagonist’s identity is acquired and verified with a view to faith (20:30–31): how and when can one say who Jesus is? Is the statement “Jesus is the Son of God” trustworthy?

Larsen views the anagnorisis scene as the formal tool used by the Johannine author to develop these questions and manage the conflict between the observer and the observed: the “camouflage” of Jesus’ flesh (the observed) conceals his true identity, but the character or the reader (the observer) can decode it through signs delivered as visible evidence (showing), verbal statements (telling), or information provided in advance to select witnesses or to the reader (whispering). Applying this framework, Larsen tracks how the initial episodes of calling and discipleship, the encounters in the central chapters, and the final Easter narratives are all shaped by this type scene. Anagnorisis thus emerges as a formal interpretive key to the entire FG, even though its function for the reader shifts over the course of the story: the recognition scenes in John 1–4 (1:19–28; 1:29–34; 1:35–51; 4:4–42) serve to establish the presence of the divine actor; those in John 5–19 (5:1–18; 9:1–41; 13:18–30; 18:1–12; 18:28–19:16) illustrate the ambiguity of the “Jesus-sign” and the conflict it generates (with characters often failing to recognise his true identity); and the final scenes in John 20–21 (20:1–10; 20:11–18; 20:19–23; 20:26–29) confirm Jesus’ true identity and, unlike the previous ones, do not thematise Jesus’ physical presence, but rather his departure and absence.

The few studies on the subject following Recognizing the Stranger are heavily indebted to it. Culpepper (2008) adopts Larsen’s perspective to examine which Johannine signs (semeia) can be properly defined as recognition scenes and how they function as vehicles of recognition. Conversely, Eric Foster-Whiddon (2026) credits Larsen with bringing anagnorisis back to the centre of Johannine studies and, like Larsen, utilises a comparative method; however, he diverges by adopting the ancient Greek novel—specifically Chariton’s Chaereas and Callirhoe—as his reference framework.

3. Open Questions and Future Perspectives

3.1. Open Questions: The Mechanism of Anagnorisis and Deviations from the Type Scene

The value of the scholarship reviewed thus far is indisputable and significant in many respects. These studies have brought to light a central, overarching theme spanning the entire Johannine narrative: the recognition of Jesus. They have clarified that the anagnorisis scene, which the FG shares with contemporary literature, serves as the formal tool to develop this theme, while successfully identifying and exploring these scenes throughout the Gospel. Furthermore, this research has established a type scene model valid for studying any recognition scene in ancient literature, advanced the scholarly conversation on the necessity of literary analysis for the FG within its historical-literary context, and demonstrated the validity of integrating ancient literary conventions with modern linguistic and semiotic tools. Nevertheless, at least two issues require further examination.

First, one must ask what exactly triggers the recognition of Jesus and, consequently, how Johannine anagnorisis should be studied to unpack this underlying mechanism. Larsen’s proposal might seem sufficient at first glance: the recognition sign is the identifying medium that carries the observer from ignorance to knowledge. Yet, as Culpepper (1995, 1998) and Larsen himself (Larsen 2008) have pointed out, not all recognitions succeed, and in some cases, the sign works only for certain characters. In John 9:1–41, for example, the opening of the blind man’s eyes serves as an effective sign of Jesus’ identity for the healed man, but not for the other characters.

The second issue concerns the type scene itself: not all anagnorisis scenes in the FG exhibit every element identified by Larsen. For instance, the scene featuring Mary Magdalene (20:11–18) deviates from the model: instead of ending with a final reunion, it continues with the Risen Lord’s command to Mary and her subsequent commissioning to the disciples. Studies on ancient literary genres and conventions (Duff 2000; Farrell 2003; Zymner 2003) have clarified that no pure reference model existed in either the classical Greek or the Hellenistic eras. While certain elements allow a given text to fall under a specific convention or genre, conventions are regularly bypassed and generic boundaries shifted, leading to the birth of new conventions and genres. This process is central to literary creation, particularly within the Hellenistic–Imperial literary milieu where genres routinely blend and flex. Attridge’s category of “genre bending” borrows this idea precisely: the Johannine author utilises the genres of biblical and Hellenistic literature but adapts them creatively, playing with their conventions. Both Larsen (2008) and Culpepper (2008) adopt this perspective. These considerations, while undoubtedly true, do not eliminate the problem; if anything, they clarify it: for what reason and in what manner do the recognition scenes in the Johannine narrative exhibit anomalies and variations relative to the type scene?

To address these two questions, three criteria, both hermeneutical and methodological, prove useful.

3.2. Three Criteria for Advancing Research

3.2.1. The Problem of Knowledge

Scholars have established that the Johannine anagnorisis scene is the literary instrument through which the author of the FG develops the core question of knowing Jesus’ identity. The category of an “epistemological plot” adopted by Larsen offers the clearest synthesis of this dynamic. Nevertheless, in light of Boitani’s hermeneutics, this theoretical framework must be supplemented by a foundational element.

Drawing on the Aristotelian definition, Boitani (2021, pp. 1–38) views anagnorisis as the “central element of a complex plot framed as a problem of knowledge”, contrasting with Cave (1990) for whom anagnorisis implies that “plots are structured around the loss and recovery of knowledge”. To explain his view, Boitani points to the Brothers Grimm’s famous Aschenputtel (Cinderella), which features a recognition scene that serves as the climax and resolution of the entire plot: when Aschenputtel tries on the slipper, the prince recognises her as the girl from the ball; his long search ends, their love is fulfilled, and the story concludes. Boitani astutely observes that the fairy tale problematises the very nature of knowing, because this resolving moment raises a crucial question: if the prince does not immediately recognise the girl from the ball upon seeing Aschenputtel, requiring instead the identifying medium of the slipper, what kind of knowledge did he actually possess while dancing with her? What, then, does it mean to know?

As further evidence of the validity of this insight, Boitani notes that the term anagnorisis first appears in Plato’s Theaetetus (191c–d), a dialogue dedicated to exploring the nature of knowledge. After rejecting the notion that knowledge consists merely of sensory perception, Plato explains its mechanism as a dual process of anamnesis and anagnorisis, reminiscence and recognition. Knowledge occurs when the correct memory, preserved within the mind, is matched with its corresponding sensory perception. Sensory experiences and thoughts are imprinted on memory like impressions in a block of wax; if these imprints remain, one can remember and thus recognise what is seen, touched, or heard. Although Aristotle’s Poetics subsequently transposed anagnorisis into literary theory as a technical term, Boitani notes that Aristotle likewise operates within an underlying gnoseological framework. Indeed, in the Prior Analytics, Aristotle establishes that inductive knowledge relies on a similar premise: in the act of knowing, we always begin with particulars, such as an individual, and grasp them for the first time as if we already knew them—or rather, as if we recognised them. This is possible because we recognise their significance as something already belonging to us. Consequently, in both tragic mimesis and real life, the transition from ignorance to knowledge ultimately constitutes a moment of self-disclosure.

By restoring anagnorisis scenes to their full gnoseological depth, Boitani reminds us of the necessity to study those in the FG through the lens of the Johannine vision of knowledge. Reconstructing this vision would require examining multiple, interrelated aspects, including lexical elements (such as οἶδα, γινώσκω, ὁράω, ὑπομιμνῄσκω), thematic motifs (such as the Johannine understanding of truth and the role of the Spirit of Truth), and rhetorical devices (such as misunderstanding and irony). For these present purposes, it is sufficient to highlight its core foundation and condition of possibility: in the FG, knowledge always primarily concerns Jesus and the Father, and it becomes possible only because both are revealed to someone, whether an individual or a collective character, through the initiative of Jesus, who acts in constant union with the Father. Therefore, when encountering an anagnorisis scene, the primary question to ask does not concern the scene itself (how it is constructed, or whether it adheres to the conventions of the model), but rather the revelation that creates its conditions of possibility and the unique dynamic that this revelation catalyses.

3.2.2. The Hierarchy of Compositional Models

The second criterion for studying Johannine anagnorisis involves the hierarchy of compositional models. As has been previously demonstrated (Aletti 2005, pp. 87–88; Casneda 2023, pp. 157–59, 243–49), the texts of the FG, like New Testament writings in general, employ multiple compositional models simultaneously. Therefore, the anagnorisis scene must be analysed by examining its relationship with other coexisting compositional models; their mutual structural organisation dictates the scene’s progression and can account for the absence of or variation in specific elements, thereby reshaping the hermeneutics at stake. Furthermore, because Johannine recognition scenes are invariably embedded within a larger narrative framework, they must be evaluated in relation to the plot’s compositional dynamics.

To return to the example of John 20:11–18: as argued elsewhere (Casneda 2023, pp. 159–207), the anagnorisis scene deviates from the standard model. Instead of concluding with the traditional final reunion, it extends into the Risen Lord’s commissioning of Mary Magdalene to the disciples. This deviation occurs because the binding principle of the entire account is the action driving Mary Magdalene’s narrative trajectory, which demands a specific development. The anagnorisis scene is thus adapted to meet the demands of this narrative progression. Consequently, to fully comprehend its trajectory and its function, both intradiegetic and extradiegetic, the scene must be studied in close relation to the narrative dynamics of the episode and the literary characterisation of Mary Magdalene herself.

3.2.3. Narrative Analysis and Interpretive Semiotics

The final criterion for studying anagnorisis derives directly from the previous two. Fully understanding anagnorisis requires a precise investigation into how a specific episode is structured, since its progression is dictated by the narrative dynamics and the revelation unfolding through the Johannine Jesus. This entails: clarifying the intersection and mutual relationship between the plot of situation (the action as it develops) and the plot of revelation (what is disclosed in the course of that action); determining whether the action aligns with the trajectory or evolution of the character involved in the recognition, and if so, tracing how that trajectory develops; examining characterisation and identifying the literary techniques employed to achieve it; and interpreting any textual gaps. In other words, both narrative analysis and interpretive semiotics prove indispensable.

Regarding narrative analysis, I have elsewhere outlined my understanding of its scope and procedures (Casneda 2023, pp. 33–54), mindful of Stanley E. Porter’s (2015) caution that within Johannine studies, scholars often invoke narrative criticism too loosely, without clarifying either the specific method or its analytical procedures. Conversely, the appeal to semiotics requires further specification.

My preference for the interpretive semiotics developed by Umberto Eco ([1979] 2016; [1994] 2018), rather than the generative semiotics of A. J. Greimas (adopted by Larsen), stems from the fact that Eco’s framework appears better equipped to account for the mechanism of Johannine anagnorisis. Indeed, generative semiotics focuses on the deep structures of the text and the generation of meaning, whereas interpretive semiotics focuses on the semiotic process involving a sign, an object, and an interpreter. While Eco’s theory is highly sophisticated and complex, defining further articulations for each of these three elements (for instance, subdividing the object into the immediate object and the dynamic object), the elementary categories of sign, object, and interpreter are sufficient for investigating Johannine recognitions. The emphasis on the role of the interpreter, in particular, proves remarkably useful. Indeed, while the sign (the sensory element which, in the case of anagnorisis, is the “Jesus-sign” or the recognition sign pointing to him) inherently possesses the capacity to signify the object (the divine surplus made present in the sign), decoding occurs only when a subject (whether a character or the reader) interprets the sign, perceives the object within it, and thereby functions as an adequate interpreter.

Adopting this semiotic approach allows us to view the literary techniques and forms characterising the interpreting character as textual markers that guide, often by way of suggestion, our exploration of that character’s interpretive capacity. Ultimately, the study of anagnorisis scenes is itself an exercise in decoding signs, written signs in this case, exactly as the Johannine author himself intimates (John 20:30–31). If this scholarly endeavour is to succeed, it has no other avenue than to investigate the literary form through which these signs are manifested.

4. Case Studies

An analysis of the anagnorisis scenes within the narratives of John 1:19–34 and 20:1–10 offers a compelling test of the hermeneutical and methodological criteria outlined above. From the outset, I maintain, with Culpepper (1998, pp. 77–86), that John 1:19–34 contains only a single recognition scene concerning the identity of Jesus, with John the Baptist as its protagonist. I do not share Larsen’s interpretation (Larsen 2008, pp. 92–112) that this passage contains two distinct recognition scenes: one concerning Jesus’ identity and another concerning John’s. Larsen is certainly correct that John’s own identity is called into question before Jesus’. Indeed, the episode opens when the priests and Levites arriving from Jerusalem ask John, “Who are you?” (1:19). However, the narrative registers no reaction on their part to John’s positive self-definition (“I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness”; 1:23). On the contrary, the only information they retain regarding his identity is entirely negative (1:25). The consequence of this narrative gap is evident: it omits the pivotal stage of recognition, without which no anagnorisis scene can technically exist. Therefore, the only anagnorisis recounted in John 1:19–34 concerns the identity of Jesus, with John as the protagonist. This scene plays a foundational role in the overall dynamics of the FG. John the Witness recognises Jesus of Nazareth as the Messiah and Son of God, and his testimony regarding Jesus’ identity catalyses all subsequent recognitions. It is precisely due to his testimony that two of John’s disciples become disciples of Jesus (1:35–39) and, in turn, witnesses to others (1:40–42). Furthermore, because this anagnorisis occurs in the very first programmatic episode of the FG, it immediately establishes that the unique identity to be recognised throughout the remainder of the narrative will be that of Jesus alone.

Similarly, the anagnorisis in John 20:1–10, despite being one of the last in the FG, serves to inaugurate a new series of recognitions. If one accepts Byrne’s (1985) view that the Beloved Disciple comes to believe in the Risen Jesus through the sight of the burial cloths, the anagnorisis he experiences is the first of those that will occur—beyond the boundaries of the narrative text—in the absence of Jesus, made possible instead through the mediation of signs. As the narrator explicitly states in 20:30–31, in the post-Easter era, those who wish to believe will have at their disposal only the signs performed by Jesus and written down in the book that testifies to them.

Despite their decisive function, both scenes present considerable interpretive difficulties, complicating understanding of their underlying recognition mechanisms and the arrangement of the typical stages of the type scene. The scene in 1:19–34 deviates markedly from the standard model. It contains no reference to any obstacles encountered by John in recognising Jesus; instead, the progression appears deceptively simple and linear: at first John does not know Jesus (1:31, 33a), and then he knows him (1:29, 34). Moreover, John twice declares κἀγὼ οὐκ ᾔδειν αὐτόν, “I myself did not know him” (1:31, 33a). This phrasal repetition, which belongs to a stylistic device highly characteristic of the Fourth Gospel (cf. Van Belle et al. 2009), underscores John’s initial ignorance of Jesus’ identity, thereby accentuating, by way of antithesis, the supreme importance of the recognition itself. On the other hand, the anagnorisis is recounted by means of an external analepsis (1:32) that seems to strip it of immediate dramatic weight. Finally, both the protagonists’ reaction and the final reunion are absent: while it is true that John sees Jesus approaching him (1:29), the anagnorisis has already occurred, and the narrative never depicts any personal dialogue or encounter between them.

By contrast, the anagnorisis scene in 20:1–10 is described with such extreme conciseness (εἶδεν καὶ ἐπίστευσεν, “he saw and believed”; 20:8) that its very status as an anagnorisis scene has been called into question. Indeed, it lacks all the stages required by the type scene except for the essential component of recognition, which is curiously narrated without any explicit vocabulary of “knowing”. Furthermore, the transition from ignorance to the comprehension of the unfolding revelation (the resurrection of Jesus from the dead) is attributed solely to the Beloved Disciple. The narrative remains silent regarding Peter, who likewise enters the tomb and sees the facecloth rolled up in a place by itself. The question thus forces itself upon the reader: what is it that enables the anagnorisis for the Beloved Disciple?

The criteria described above provide the necessary tools to interpret the difficulties within the recognition scenes of both 1:19–34 and 20:1–10, treating them not as flaws, but as the very textual markers that unlock their inner mechanics.

4.1. John 1:19–34

4.1.1. The Anagnorisis Scene Within the Narrative Dynamics

The first episode of the FG, as its opening indicates (1:19a), centres on John’s first testimony to Jesus within the context of the Jewish search for the Messiah. Having examined its plot architecture elsewhere (Casneda 2026), I will limit myself here to summarising its narrative dynamics to clarify the revelatory and testimonial framework in which John’s anagnorisis is embedded.

Current scholarship (Michaels 1999, p. 142; Theobald 2009, pp. 160–61; Grassilli 2016, p. 104) has established that, in the context of Second Temple Judaism in Palestine, the administration of baptism carried distinct messianic connotations. Consequently, the religious establishment in Jerusalem dispatches a delegation of priests and Levites—the religious authorities responsible for monitoring the legitimacy of purification rites—to conduct an official inquiry into the meaning and authority of John’s baptismal activity (1:19a, the exposition scene). Their questions, which serve as the complications that set the plot of the situation in motion, specifically target John’s messianic identity (“Who are you?”; 1:19b) and his practice of baptism (“Why then are you baptising?”; 1:25).

John answers the first question by declaring first who he is not and then who he is: he rejects any identification with the Christ, Elijah, or the Prophet (1:19b–21) and, through a modified citation of Isaiah 40:3, presents himself as “the voice of one crying out in the wilderness” (1:23). In doing so, he indirectly projects onto someone else, as yet unidentified, the very titles he refuses for himself, thereby initiating a testimony that will become progressively more explicit. Vignolo (2007) has demonstrated that within the FG, testimony (μαρτυρία) is not merely a theme but a distinct literary genre characterised by recurring elements: a direct auditory and visual experience; the comprehension of this auricular-ocular experience; the public transmission of the experience driven by a personal commitment; and the transmission of this experience so that others may gain access to it. Marcheselli (2016, pp. 221–23) has further specified that, in the FG, a witness is one capable of perceiving the transcendent made visible and audible within the lived experience. By answering the Judean emissaries, John thus initiates a testimony that exhibits all the hallmarks of the Johannine testimonial genre. Indeed, his testimony is immediately characterised as an explicit statement of personal faith (“He confessed and did not deny it”; 1:20) and, as he declares the following day, it is grounded in an auditory and visual experience through which John was able to grasp God’s revelation.

Furthermore, John’s response prompts his interlocutors to pose a second question: “Why then are you baptising?” (1:25). His refusal to identify himself as the Messiah in any form raises the question of his authority to baptise if he is not the Messiah. In his reply, clarifying that his baptism with water carries no messianic character, John evokes the Second Temple Jewish motif of the hidden Messiah, affirming that this figure is already present among them but remains unknown to the Judean emissaries. In this manner, the reference to the legitimate holder of the messianic titles becomes more explicit, implying that, unlike the emissaries from Jerusalem, John is indeed aware of his identity (1:26).

The following day (1:29–34), the testimony becomes direct and reaches its climax. Upon seeing Jesus, John declares that he is the one of whom he had spoken the previous day, identifying him as “the Lamb of God” (1:29) and “the Son of God” (1:34). Furthermore, he completes the explanation of the significance of his own baptism with water, defining it as a testimony in favor of Jesus (1:31). Grassilli (2016, pp. 104–8) argues convincingly that these two christological titles and their corresponding actions—taking away the sin of the world and baptising in the Holy Spirit—are intimately connected, jointly indicating the ultimate purpose of Jesus’ mission, namely, the full restoration of communion with God: liberation from sin (the negative aspect) will be achieved through the gift of the Holy Spirit (the positive aspect). Verse 34, therefore, serves as both the apex of the testimony—since it is as the Son of God that Jesus acts as the Lamb of God who takes away sin by bestowing the Spirit—and its conclusion. The testimonial vocabulary creates an inclusion with the heading of 1:19a, thereby signalling the end of the episode.

In 1:35, a new episode begins, developing the new theme of the first disciples following Jesus. Nevertheless, the spatial–temporal coordinates (“the following day” without a change in location), the co-presence of Jesus and John, and the repetition of John’s words, “Behold, the Lamb of God”, which summarise his entire testimony, create a deliberate continuity with 1:19–34. Above all, they ensure that his testimony provides the necessary context, that is, the space, the time, and the occasion, for the recognition and following of Jesus as the Messiah of Israel to become possible.

To summarise: John 1:19–34 recounts the gradual revelation of Jesus through the testimony borne by John within the context of the Jewish search for the Messiah. This revelation unfolds through the convergence of John the Witness, God, and the Spirit. Although John explicitly declares Jesus’ identity, the divine passive “that he might be revealed” (ἵνα φανερωθῇ; 1:31a) and the description of the Spirit descending from God, “from heaven” (ἐξ οὐρανοῦ), and remaining upon Jesus (1:32) clarify that the revelation originates with and is directed by God. John’s testimony itself—which develops according to the parameters of the testimonial genre—is possible only because God, at an unspecified prior moment, dispatched him (1:33a) and disclosed the Messiah’s identity to him through a word that foretold his arrival and rendered him identifiable (1:33b). It is also possible because John was capable of grasping this divine revelation within his lived experience.

A crucial moment of anagnorisis forms part of this experience, to which John refers twice when declaring “I myself did not know him” (κἀγὼ οὐκ ᾔδειν αὐτόν; 1:31, 33a). As noted above, this transition from ignorance to knowledge is recounted via analepsis and lacks the final reunion prescribed by the standard model. In light of the ongoing argument, the reasons for these variations become clear. The anagnorisis experienced by John is functional to his testimony; therefore, it must be situated in a prior timeframe, as it constitutes the very experience that grounds his testimony. Furthermore, the anagnorisis does not culminate in a final reunion because the testimony of which it is a part does not aim to bring about a personal encounter between John and Jesus. Instead, its purpose is to enable the recipients of the testimony to gain access to the same revelatory experience as John, as indeed occurs in 1:35. The recognition scene is thus adapted and remodeled to serve the revelatory–testimonial progression of the episode. To put it another way: the compositional models of the plot and the testimonial genre dictate the trajectory of the anagnorisis scene.

It remains to be explained how the inner mechanics of this anagnorisis function, and why it involves no obstacles of any kind.

4.1.2. The Mechanism of Anagnorisis

John twice declares κἀγὼ οὐκ ᾔδειν αὐτόν (1:31, 33a). The αὐτόν of whom he speaks is Jesus, the “man”, ἀνήρ, who comes after him but takes precedence over him (1:30). For those who choose to accept John’s testimony, beginning with his own disciples (1:35–39), this ἀνήρ will constitute the sign to be decoded, in keeping with the overarching Johannine vision wherein Jesus’ flesh points to the divine surplus that can be discerned within it. For them, therefore, the anagnorisis will concern the messianic and divine identity of Jesus. For John, conversely, the object of the anagnorisis is the identity of the Messiah as such (rather than the identity of Jesus per se), and the recognition sign consists of the vision of the Spirit, preceded by the hearing of God’s word which interprets that vision.

This dynamic is disclosed by John’s declaration immediately following the second κἀγὼ οὐκ ᾔδειν αὐτόν: at an unspecified prior moment, God sent John to baptise with water (1:33a) and entrusted him with a word (1:33b) that foretold both the identity of the Messiah (the Lamb and the Son of God who baptises in the Spirit) and his specific recognition sign: the Spirit would descend and remain upon him. The permanent abiding of the Spirit (expressed by the verb μένω) signals the fulfillment of eschatological expectations and the inauguration of the messianic era, as heralded by the Scriptures of Israel (Hatina 1993, pp. 206–7). Meanwhile, the phrasing that characterises the Messiah as “the one who baptises in the Holy Spirit” (ὁ βαπτίζων ἐν πνεύματι ἁγίῳ) points to the Messiah’s unique bestowal of the Spirit, which will unfold both during Jesus’ salvific activity and at the hour of his glorification, when the outpouring of the Spirit is brought to completion (Bennema 2003). The precise moment of anagnorisis coincides with the visual perception of the Spirit descending and remaining upon Jesus. This vision enabled John to comprehend that the Messiah is indeed Jesus, and this sight, together with the word that illuminates it, constitutes the recognition sign intended specifically for him.

Prior to the anagnorisis, then, John does not face the problem of knowing what the Messiah is. He knows that the Messiah is coming; indeed, he is the voice preparing his way, and he knows how he will recognise him, because God’s word has already revealed the means of identification. Yet, until the Spirit descends, John cannot know which specific individual (ἀνήρ) the Messiah is. Consequently, at the moment of recognition, the surplus revealed to him (the semiotic object) encompasses not only Jesus as the Messiah, but also the absolute truth of both the word he received and his own prophetic ministry, both of which find their fulfillment in that very instant.

It remains to be understood what enabled John to function as an adequate interpreter, capable of grasping what he saw and heard so as to become its witness. The Johannine author offers no explicit explanation here, in contrast to his typical narrative style, which is otherwise characterised by regular explanatory asides from the narrator. Nevertheless, John’s prophetic characterisation and the signs he receives, which themselves belong firmly to the prophetic sphere, suggest a viable interpretive path. The character’s prophetic profile emerges from several distinct elements: the citation of the prophet Isaiah through which he defines himself; the ritual action he must perform as a prophet by God’s command (the water baptism that foreshadows the Messiah’s baptism in the Spirit); and his recognition of the Messiah through the vision of the descending Spirit, which places him directly in the lineage of the great prophets of ancient Israel who foretold the outpouring of the Spirit in the messianic age (Isa 11:2; Joel 2:28–30). Furthermore, the signs given to him for identifying the Messiah are those typical of the prophetic ministry: the word that preannounces and interprets the vision, and the vision that fulfils the word. Based on these characterising traits, John emerges as an adequate interpreter by virtue of the reciprocal collaboration that develops between him and God throughout his prophetic ministry. God, who dispatched John, provides him with a sign (both word and vision) tailored to him because it is tailored to his prophetic vocation; John, in turn, decodes the sign because he has embraced this divine calling, which equips him to hear God’s word and receive the vision of the Spirit. In this manner, he transitions from ignorance to the definitive knowledge of who the Messiah is, thus becoming his witness. The complete absence of obstacles to his recognition of Jesus reinforces the efficacy of the sign intended for him, highlighting his profile as a prophet in radical obedience to the word of the one who sent him.

4.2. John 20:1–10

4.2.1. The Anagnorisis Scene Within the Narrative Dynamics

John 20:1–10 constitutes the first episode of the Easter cycle (John 20–21). Through the narrative of the initial events connected to Jesus’ resurrection (the discovery of the empty tomb by Mary Magdalene, the race of Peter and the Beloved Disciple, and the inspection of the tomb) the Johannine author begins to explore how belief remains possible without seeing Jesus in the period after his return to the Father. As previously demonstrated (see Zumstein 2004; Casneda 2023), this theme runs throughout chapter 20. It is crucial for a Gospel which, by asserting from its opening verses that the glory of God was made visible in the flesh of the Logos (1:14), inevitably raises the question: when Jesus, the incarnate Logos, is no longer physically present, will it still be possible to believe in him in the same way as those who saw him with their own eyes? The revelatory plot of this opening episode provides an initial, partial yet foundational answer. Indeed, the Beloved Disciple believes that Jesus is risen by seeing the facecloth, recognised as a sign (20:8). He thus epitomises how one can believe in Jesus Christ, the Son of God, having at his disposal only the signs he performed, which are written in the witness’s book (20:30–31; 21:24). The Beloved Disciple becomes the first of those who, in the post-Easter era, will enjoy the beatitude of believing without seeing (20:29).

This interpretation, however, is far from self-evident. Verse 8, which recounts this moment, presents notable exegetical difficulties—namely, the meaning of the phrase εἶδεν καὶ ἐπίστευσεν (“he saw and believed”), and the relationship between 20:8 and 20:9—and it implies accepting Byrne’s (1985) position, according to which the Beloved Disciple’s faith in the Risen One springs from his vision of the facecloth. As previously demonstrated (see Casneda 2023, pp. 73–116), a narrative analysis of the passage resolves these difficulties and validates the interpretation. It is thus possible to agree with Larsen (2008, pp. 188–96) that 20:1–10 presents the anagnorisis of a character who is absent from the scene. Furthermore, this explains why the scene is described so briefly, without the vocabulary of knowing, and without mentioning the stages typically required by the type scene, apart from the essential one of recognition. The anagnorisis of the Beloved Disciple serves the revelatory plot, which centres on faith in the absence of Jesus. Consequently, the author focuses attention exclusively on the recognition itself, suppressing all other stages prescribed by the model. By adopting the lexicon of seeing (εἶδεν) and believing (ἐπίστευσεν) rather than knowing, the author portrays this recognition as the precise moment of access to the Easter faith. However, this very conciseness makes it difficult to understand what enables the facecloth to transition from a mere fact to a sign that points to the Lord risen from the dead. Furthermore, if the sign of the facecloth triggers the decoding process, it remains unexplained why the Beloved Disciple is the one who becomes involved, rather than Peter, who sees exactly what the Beloved Disciple sees. Here too, interpretive semiotics offers a pathway into the mechanics of anagnorisis.

4.2.2. The Mechanism of Anagnorisis

Larsen (2008, p. 196) proposes that the Beloved Disciple can activate another recognition sign, previously offered by way of a “whispering”, in order to decode what he sees upon entering the tomb. This sign consists of the information provided by the Scripture δεῖ αὐτὸν ἐκ νεκρῶν ἀναστῆναι (“he must rise from the dead”; 20:9b). This interpretation appears problematic for two reasons. First, it merely shifts the problem of understanding the sign of the facecloth to that of the Scripture: if everyone knew the Scripture but no one had yet understood it (οὐδέπω γὰρ ᾔδεισαν τὴν γραφήν, “for as yet they did not know the scripture”; 20:9), how does the Beloved Disciple become capable of understanding it, thereby activating the comprehension of this sign so as to enable the subsequent one? Furthermore, the narrator simply states that no one up to that moment had understood the Scripture, but does not declare that the Beloved Disciple understood it when he entered the tomb, saw the facecloth, and believed. Verses 8–9 only make clear that, for him, the understanding of what occurred (the resurrection of Jesus) depends on his lived experience; consequently, it is this very experience, which encompasses the vision and decoding of the sign, that subsequently allows him to understand the Scripture that had foretold these events (though when this occurs is never stated by the Fourth Gospel, neither here nor elsewhere).

Larsen’s argument remains confined within the circuit of one sign decoding another, thereby failing to explain what enables the fact to become a sign for the disciple. The reason for this seems to stem from the semiotic framework adopted, which pays greater attention to the analysis of intra-textual structures than to the process of interpretation and the role played by the interpreter, even though the scholar introduces the category of the “observer” into his analysis. Consequently, when searching for the hermeneutical key that unlocks the activation of the semiotic process, he has at his disposal only the textual structure and the succession of signs it presents. Conversely, interpretive semiotics, as previously noted, allows for the consideration not only of the sign, but also of the object to which the sign refers (namely, the Risen Lord) and its interpreter (namely, the Beloved Disciple). In this way, in previous studies (Casneda 2023, p. 94), I have shown that the facecloth (the sign) is, in the first instance, a sign of the deceased body that was laid in the tomb after receiving burial rites. For the Beloved Disciple, however, it is a sign of Jesus risen from the dead, and therefore a sign pointing to the divine reality manifested within it; as such, it constitutes an authentic Johannine sign. Furthermore, if the disciple sees a sign in the tomb that points to the divine reality (the object) concealed and manifested within it, then it is also a sign of the divine work—Jesus risen from the dead—and of the divine initiative that originates it. For the Fourth Gospel, this initiative is always the free and gratuitous gift of God that presides over each of his manifestations. Therefore, the very presence of such a sign inevitably places the Beloved Disciple’s anagnorisis within the dimension of a received divine gift. Consequently, when asking what allowed the disciple to see in the facecloth the sign revealing that Jesus is risen from the dead, it is first of all necessary to invoke the ultimate horizon of meaning that makes this anagnorisis possible, which already offers an initial, partial answer: the disciple is able to see the sign not primarily by virtue of his own merit or capacity, but by virtue of the event of Jesus’ resurrection itself, encompassing his free and voluntary manifestation as the Living One risen from the dead.

Finally, the fact that the anagnorisis takes place for the disciple certifies that he is a competent interpreter of the sign and, consequently, of the manifestation of the Risen Lord. The unfolding of events does not reveal what rendered him as such. However, the fact that he specifically proves to be so—and not Peter, who was also present at the tomb—suggests looking into the character’s narrative profile (as was previously the case for John in 1:19–34) for some additional element useful in clarifying the question regarding his capacity to see the sign. In light of what has just been said, this question can be precisely formulated as follows: what made this disciple so receptive to the Christological revelation as to be capable of responding to it, discerning in the facecloth the sign of the Risen Lord? To answer exhaustively, it would be necessary to reconstruct the characterisation of the disciple. Here, it is worth recalling two main findings among those that emerged during a previous study on John 20 (see Casneda 2023, pp. 117–39): one relating to the scenes in the Fourth Gospel where the Beloved Disciple appears, and the other relating to the title by which he is identified.

In all the other scenes where he appears (13:23–25; 19:25–27; 21:1–8; 21:20–23), the Beloved Disciple is characterised as immediately receptive to the revelation granted by Jesus, radically open to it, and free from any obstacles toward it, just as in 20:1–10. The origin and foundation of such a harmony with the Master are suggested by the position he occupies at the Last Supper (13:23–25) and by the revelation of his filial identity, (ἴδε ὁ υἱός σου, “behold, your son”), at the foot of the cross (19:25–27): the disciple experiences a relationship with the Master, the Son of the Father, that renders him similar and closely akin to him. The reason why this relationship can bear such fruit in his life is suggested by the title used to identify him: “the disciple whom Jesus loved”. As Marcheselli (2006, p. 192) observes, within the Johannine vision, being loved by Jesus is the constitutive condition of every disciple, that which founds their discipleship identity. Unlike the other disciples, the Beloved Disciple is never named; therefore, the love of which he is the object becomes his defining feature, making him the prototype of every disciple.

As Marcheselli (2006, pp. 193–94) has masterfully demonstrated, the passage that best clarifies what this love consists of is 15:13–15. Jesus’ declaration explains that this love is realised in two stages. In the first stage, Jesus transitions the disciples from the status of δοῦλοι (“slaves”) to that of φίλοι (“friends”; 15:15b). This represents a constitutive change: while a slave is one who does not know what his master is doing and lives an existence that remains on the margins of the master’s life, obeying orders and commands without knowing their underlying rationale, a friend, by contrast, is one who is made privy by his friend not only to what he does, but above all to who he is, thereby becoming entangled in his life and turning into another self. The disciples are transitioned by Jesus from one status to the other, thus becoming friends of the Son. In other words, they are deemed worthy by him to enter into a peer relationship, so as to be made privy to his very life. Jesus’ declaration is formulated in the past tense; therefore, when it is spoken during the second farewell discourse, the transition has already taken place. It is Jesus who further reveals when and how: he made the disciples friends over the course of his ministry by revealing to them, in words and signs, the Father as the One who gives life (15:15b). This is precisely what was narrated throughout the first part of the Gospel account.

The second stage in which Jesus’ love is realised coincides with the gift of life for those who have been made friends (15:13). This is the love realised when Jesus dies on the cross. It is qualified as “greater” love certainly because it is impossible to go any further in giving one’s life, but also because that moment coincides with Jesus’ hour, the way the Fourth Gospel qualifies the full revelation of the mystery of God. After having revealed in words and signs the mystery of God the Father, who gives life to whoever believes in the Son, Jesus reveals it fully by giving his own life (ψυχή, “physical/earthly life”), so that whoever has already been made a friend and believes in him may receive the divine life (ζωή, “eternal/divine life”) that he lives; that is, so that they may live, in turn, as children of the Father.

By virtue of the title identifying him, the disciple whom Jesus loved is designated as the one who has experienced the entire trajectory of this love: made a friend of the Son through the revelation of the Father in words and signs, he is enabled at Jesus’ death to receive his life, thereby beginning to live the life of the Son. The first stage is traced in the scenes where he plays a leading role: his affinity with Jesus, which shows him capable of grasping his revelation, appears as the manifestation of having become a friend—one who is made privy to the life of the Son and the Father, and who is capable of continuously receiving the gift of a relationship with Jesus to the point of recognising his presence even when it eludes others or occurs solely within a sign. Conversely, only the beginning of the second stage is traced, namely when the Son places the disciple in the role that until that moment had been his own (19:25–27). The experience of love as a generation into life as a child will be fully realised only later, during the absence of Jesus.

In light of this framework, it is now possible to return to the question regarding the scene of anagnorisis: what made this disciple so receptive to the revelation as to be capable of responding to it, discerning its self-giving within the sign and adhering to it in faith? To answer this, one must note that the Johannine narrative does not explain it. However, through the character’s identifying title, it suggests a hermeneutical key: the love of which he was made the object by Jesus made this disciple a friend, akin to his friend, in harmony with the life he lives, and capable of responding to him even when he is absent and a trace of his life remains solely within the sign. The Beloved Disciple thus proves to be a competent interpreter of the sign, and consequently of the reality of the Lord’s resurrection, because he was rendered as such by the love of which he was made the object by Jesus, a love to which, in every situation depicted in the book, he has always proven to respond with prompt receptivity. The visual capacity he demonstrates in the tomb thus appears as the way this responsiveness is realised at the moment of his friend’s absence, and as the fruit of the synergy between Jesus’ love and his own acceptance of it.

5. Conclusions

Studies that have focused on the literary dimension of the Fourth Gospel deserve significant credit for identifying the Johannine scenes of anagnorisis and their overall function: these scenes appear as the formal tool through which the problem of Jesus’ identity, which runs throughout the Fourth Gospel, is narratively developed. Maria Armida Nicolaci (2015) refines this insight by arguing that, when situated against the historical background of the Second Temple quest for the Messiah and the question it entails (namely, when the Messiah arrives, how will it be possible to recognise him?), these scenes serve as the formal mechanism through which the Fourth Gospel answers that very question: the Messiah can be recognised in the encounter with the person of Jesus. Larsen’s monograph, in particular, opened a highly fruitful path by integrating comparative analysis with the tools of contemporary semiotics. Nearly twenty years later, however, it seems possible to push this research further by addressing two major unresolved questions: (a) why do not all anagnorisis scenes present every element of the type scene reconstructed by Larsen? and (b) what triggers the recognition of Jesus and, consequently, how should anagnorisis be studied so that its underlying mechanism might be unlocked?

The representative analysis of the recognition scenes in John 1:19–34 and 20:1–10 shows that narrative criticism, attention to the hierarchy of compositional models, and interpretive semiotics help resolve these difficulties. The first question can be answered by stating that, in both examined cases, the type scene is modified and adapted according to the demands of the narrative dynamics—whether revelatory and/or thematic—within which the recognition scene is situated. The second question, by contrast, requires a multifaceted answer.

In both studied cases, the revelatory horizon (reconstructible through the study of the plot of revelation) and interpretive semiotics, integrated with the study of the interpreter’s characterisation, unlock the mechanism of anagnorisis. Indeed, revelation is the horizon that makes recognition possible, not only because God and/or Jesus intends to reveal himself, but also because God and/or Jesus provides signs that can be decoded by the interpreter. Conversely, the defining traits of the interpreter can be understood as textual cues that, by way of suggestion, guide the understanding of his role in the process of anagnorisis. In this way, anagnorisis appears possible through a collaboration that develops between God, who reveals himself and the interpreter who grasps the revelation.

Furthermore, in the cases of John 1:19–34 and 20:1–10, the element that best accounts for the interpreters’ cognitive capacity concerns the relationship they already maintain with the mystery of God to be discerned within the sign. Indeed, the relationship with God who sends John and makes him a prophet is precisely what qualifies and shapes John’s prophetic identity, enabling his recognition. Analogously, the relationship with Jesus, the Son of God, who calls the disciple to follow him and transforms him from a slave into a friend, is precisely what qualifies and shapes the discipleship identity of the Beloved Disciple, rendering him capable of recognising the friend’s presence within the sign even when the friend is absent. Recognition, therefore, appears possible because it is rooted and grounded in the construction of the identity of John and the Beloved Disciple (the interpreters), an identity that proves to be personal because it is relational. That is to say, it is born out of a relationship that the Johannine narrative understands as the fruit of collaboration between the gift of God revealing himself in their lives and their own openness and receptivity to being shaped and constructed by the gift that is God’s revelation. Consequently, the anagnorisis narrated in 1:19–34 and 20:1–10 certainly concerns the one who is recognised, but it also concerns the one who recognises. As Aristotle noted, anagnorisis is a moment of self-disclosure. In the case of Johannine anagnorisis, this is the moment when, by recognising the Other, one recognises oneself as a personal being, precisely because one is born out of a relationship with him and exists in relation to him.

To synthesise: the moment of Johannine anagnorisis, as narrated in 1:19–34 and 20:1–10, is not a simplistic, mechanical recognition triggered by a material sign, but a relational event; it is a moment of disclosure of both the Other and the self. This is because it is the moment in which one discovers that the relationship with the Other shapes the self, and that is precisely why one is capable of recognising him. Recognition, therefore, is never something extrinsic: it passes through visible and audible signs—within the logic of the flesh of the Logos as the locus of the manifestation of God’s glory—yet it is an event that concerns the personal identity of both the one who recognises and the One who makes Himself recognised. Nor is it an extraordinary or exceptional moment; rather, it is a stage within a journey of mutual knowledge and, consequently, of faith. This is because, in the final analysis, it involves God, who, while making himself known and manifesting himself (to John through the word, to the Beloved Disciple through the flesh of the Son), nevertheless remains the God whom “no one has ever seen” (John 1:18).

Having clarified this, much remains to be done. Three possible fields of exploration can be pointed out.

• The two examined scenes of anagnorisis both present successful recognitions. Culpepper and Larsen, however, have also identified a series of failed recognitions. One might ask: are the criteria employed to study the mechanism of successful recognition also valid for failed ones? Do the conclusions outlined here hold true in those cases as well? More radically: are failed recognitions truly failed? If, as proposed in this study, analysing the characterization of the interpreter is indispensable, then evaluating a single scene is insufficient to fully grasp the recognition process in which they are involved. Instead, it becomes necessary to consider the character’s entire narrative arc, which in some cases unfolds across multiple episodes. Nicodemus is a prime example: can his experience really be classified as a failed anagnorisis? Furthermore, regarding undeniable episodes of failed recognition, such as the conflict in John 7–8, the question arises: why does anagnorisis fail? If recognition depends on the collaboration and relationship between God and the human agent, to whom is this failure to be attributed? Is it due to a lack of divine self-disclosure, or rather to the interpreter’s lack of openness and receptivity? In addition, pushing this premise to its logical limit, a crucial objection arises: if Johannine anagnorisis is inherently a relational event, does it mean that without a pre-existing or developing relationship, any recognition of Jesus’ identity is theoretically impossible?
• The scenes of anagnorisis in which John and the Beloved Disciple are protagonists do not provide any direct or explicit explanation as to why John manages to recognise the Messiah and the Beloved Disciple manages to recognise the Risen Lord. Substantial decoding of the text is required on the part of the reader. One might ask whether this narrative style characterises all the recognition scenes in the Fourth Gospel. If this were the case, it would be necessary to clarify its reason and purpose. A possible working hypothesis could consider the relationship between this narrative style and the first conclusion of the Fourth Gospel: given that the Johannine author defines his own narrative as a selection of signs (20:30–31), the reader’s active involvement in decoding the scenes of anagnorisis could be propaedeutic to his or her interpretive and evaluative capacity, given the demand for faith with which the reader must engage at the end of the reading process. Consequently, this could also imply for the reader a journey analogous to that of the characters. Indeed, at the very moment the author defines the status of his narrative as a selection of signs, he also clarifies the purpose for which he committed this selection to writing: “these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name”.
• Recalling Boitani’s insight that the presence of anagnorisis highlights the problem of knowledge, one could explore what the study of Johannine scenes of anagnorisis and their mechanism adds to our understanding of what knowledge itself constitutes for the Fourth Gospel. Some interesting data have already emerged from the analysis of 1:19–34 and 20:1–10. For instance, as just mentioned, knowledge of the Messiah for John and of the Risen Lord for the Beloved Disciple is made possible by the relational context in which the protagonists of recognition are situated: John, by virtue of his prophetic ministry, lives out his relationship with the One who sent him; the Beloved Disciple lives out his relationship with his Teacher. Furthermore, in both scenes of anagnorisis, knowledge appears as a progression and a journey that unfolds over time. Moreover, it implies intellect, but also the will to embark upon the journey that precedes and leads to anagnorisis. It should also not be forgotten that for the Fourth Gospel, full knowledge of Jesus and his word is possible only in the post-Easter period through the action of the Spirit of Truth. One might therefore wonder about the relationship between the knowledge implied in the pre-Easter recognitions narrated in the various scenes of anagnorisis and the knowledge that opens up in the post-Easter period through the action of the Spirit.

Ultimately, by grounding the investigation in the relational and interpretive dynamics demanded by the Johannine text itself, this study demonstrates how literary analysis of anagnorisis serves as a vital gateway to the deeper theological realities of the Gospel; consequently, it provides a renewed critical foundation for future research, charting new trajectories to explore the very nature of Johannine epistemology.