Gospel in Art: We know where this man comes from

Haystacks, Morning, Eragny, by Camille Pissarro, 1899 © Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

Source: Christian Art

Gospel of 20 March 2026
John 7:1-2, 10, 25-30

At that time: Jesus went about in Galilee. He would not go about in Judea, because the Jews were seeking to kill him.

Now the Jews' Feast of Booths was at hand. After his brothers and sisters had gone up to the feast, then he also went up, not publicly but in private.

Some of the people of Jerusalem therefore said, 'Is not this the man whom they seek to kill? And here he is, speaking openly, and they say nothing to him! Can it be that the authorities really know that this is the Christ? But we know where this man comes from, and when the Christ appears, no one will know where he comes from.' So Jesus proclaimed, as he taught in the Temple, 'You know me, and you know where I come from. But I have not come of my own accord. He who sent me is true, and him you do not know. I know him, for I come from him, and he sent me.' So they were seeking to arrest him, but no one laid a hand on him, because his hour had not yet come.

Reflection on the painting

Sometimes we think we know more than we actually do. We are not always humble enough in our knowing. What we understand is only ever a small fraction of what can truly be known. This is true of every person we meet and every situation we encounter. We are all limited in our knowledge. We see only a part, never the whole. And this is even more true when it comes to matters of faith. As Saint Paul beautifully admits in his First Letter to the Corinthians: "Now I know only in part." Faith therefore requires humility: a deep awareness that there is always more to discover, more to understand, more to know... and more to receive.

In today's Gospel the people of Jerusalem confidently say about Jesus: "We know where this man comes from." They assume they understand him because they know he comes from Nazareth. A very narrow view on knowledge! Yet their certainty blinds them to a deeper truth. Jesus gently reveals that his true origin lies elsewhere: "I have not come of my own accord; there is One who sent me." In other words, while the people think they know Jesus, they have missed the most important part of the story. And perhaps that is the quiet lesson for us today: when it comes to Christ, we are always disciples, always learners, always seekers. There is always more depth to his mystery, with more beauty to discover.

A story is told about Thomas Aquinas, one our greatest theologians. His masterpiece, the Summa Theologica, is one of the most important works of theology ever written, a vast and carefully structured attempt to explain the mysteries of faith using both Scripture and reason. Yet near the end of his life something remarkable happened. On 6 December 1273, while celebrating Mass, Aquinas had a profound spiritual experience during prayer. After this moment he stopped writing altogether. When his secretary Reginald of Piperno urged him to continue working on the Summa, Aquinas replied with these words: "I can write no more. All that I have written seems like straw compared with what I have seen and what has been revealed to me." The man who had written some of the most brilliant theology in Christian history suddenly realised how small human words are before the mystery of God. Aquinas was not rejecting his work; rather, he was recognising that however much we learn about God, the reality of God will always be infinitely greater than our understanding. True wisdom, therefore, is always accompanied by humility and wonder.

So for today, just a simple, beautiful painting by Camille Pisarro of straw-stacks or hay-stacks, from 1899.

LINKS

Christian Art: https://christian.art/
Today's reading: https://christian.art/daily-gospel-reading/john-7-1-2-10-25-30-2026/