Water is Thicker Than Blood

What do we make of Jesus bonding his mother with the beloved disciple?

Jesus’ actions from the cross for Mary and “the disciple whom he loved” are unique to John’s gospel, and even somewhat unique within John’s gospel. No other gospel mentions this moment, and it’s more of a narrative detail than John usually gives.

Why did he feel the need to let people know about such a specific happening?

Usually when John gives a concrete detail—like the water and blood pouring forth (which we’ll read about tomorrow)—there’s a larger theological point. There are certainly theological underpinnings here too, but the tone feels different. More personal. More human.

From the beginning, John has demanded attention to the Incarnation. The Word became flesh—and took on all aspects of humanity. So we read of blood, dirt, water, wine, bread, eating, thirst, weariness, and more. The point being: Jesus is human. Not just divine in disguise, but truly embodied. A man with breath and bones, tears and ties.

And caring for his mother at the hour of death underscores that humanity.

At the same time, the link between Mary and this disciple is curious. Jesus had other siblings. Why wouldn’t he entrust her to one of them? There’s an ecclesial moment unfolding here—Jesus is forming a new kind of community. Not one based on lineage, but on love. Bloodlines matter (so Jesus honors his earthly mother), but what binds people now is Jesus himself. They will know you are my disciples by how you love one another.

Some have said: “Water is thicker than blood.” That is, the waters of baptism form the stronger bond. This doesn’t always resonate in cultures deeply shaped by family heritage—but it’s central to the identity of the Church. We are a people bound by Christ, not by chromosomes.

Finally, it’s interesting that Jesus does this before his death, not after the resurrection. Why? Perhaps because after the resurrection, something will shift. He will not dwell in the same embodied, familial way. This is a final, deeply human gesture—before everything changes.

John 19:25-27

Jesus’ mother and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene stood near the cross. When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to his mother, “Woman, here is your son.” Then he said to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” And from that time on, this disciple took her into his home.

Psalm 68:6-10

God settles the lonely in their homes; he sets prisoners free with happiness, but the rebellious dwell in a parched land.

When you went forth before your people, God, when you marched through the wasteland, the earth shook! Yes, heaven poured down before God, the one from Sina—before God, the God of Israel! You showered down abundant rain, God; when your inheritance grew weary, you restored it yourself, and your creatures settled in it. In your goodness, God, you provided for the poor.

Prayer

God,

You gave us families—messy, beautiful, sacred spaces of nurture and belonging. We thank you for them. We thank you for every act of love we’ve received from parents, siblings, children, and caregivers. For all the ways we’ve learned grace through kin.

But we also confess: sometimes we’ve made family into an idol. We’ve drawn lines too tightly. We’ve believed love must look like bloodlines or biology. We’ve kept our care limited to our own.

Teach us, Christ, what it means to belong in you. Help us to love beyond our circles. To see your family not as something we inherit, but something we participate in. Knit us together—not only in name, but in truth, in compassion, in sacrifice, and in joy.

And in a world where isolation is common, make your church a true family again.

By your Spirit & in Christ,
Amen.