A slight disclaimer: What follows is the basic text (minus the occasional digressions) of a sermon that I preached at Comox United Church, Comox, B.C. on May 1, 2022. It is not an essay. It is written to be spoken and in a manner that reflects my preaching style, which I suspect might be described as “informal.” Nor does it have the full assortment of citations, acknowledgements, and footnotes normally (and quite reasonably) expected in a more formal work. Please forgive the grammatical peculiarities!
Blessings
Phil Spencer
"More Than These"
I’m sure you’ve had this experience: you’re talking with someone for a while, and you suddenly have the realization that even though you think you’re conversing about the same thing, that you’re really talking at cross purposes, that even though you’re using the same words, you’ve meant different things, or you’ve been referring to something else. Confusion reigns! This can be, incidentally, one of the challenges in interfaith conversations—even, at times, in interdenominational discourse—where the defining of terms can be especially beneficial. For example, knowing what the person of another faith means when they say the word “peace” can be really important because their notion of peace might be defined quite differently than your own. This is the task for Biblical scholars as they look at those Hebrew and Greek words and translate them into modern languages.
It's like the word snow. You may have heard this as well—I only discovered this a few years back—but I’ve read that in the Inuktitut language there are goodly number of different words for “snow,” the precise number being a point of contention between various linguists and anthropologists.[1] I offer no opinion on it being a dozen or 52, but there’s definitely more than a few. That makes nothing but sense when I stop to think about how—for people living in the Arctic—there might be nuances about the type of snow or ice one might be encountering, because it can have real-life effect. I remember wandering about on the BBC website looking for something a while back and I ran across article that revealed that—and I quote—that “Academics have officially logged 421 terms” for snow in (are you ready?) Scotland.[2] Who knew? Seems that some Glaswegian academics assembled the “first Historical Thesaurus of Scots” and they stumbled across this bit of intelligence. So, if you hear someone speaking about a feefle or refer to a flindrikin, it just might be a Scot referring to a “swirl” of snow, or a “slight shower” of snow. Now there’s news you can use!
I mention this because there are interesting issues involving translation and subtle differences in meaning in our Gospel reading from the final chapter of John, a text that’s filled with nuance. Below our English words and phrases lays all sorts of Greek (and likely Aramaic) complexity, which makes it interesting, for at-least-some preachers. Under the surface there are all sorts of treasures that give us layers and layers of meaning. As an undergraduate I remember one of my English profs saying that, “You can never read too much into James Joyce” and then later, when I was studying theology, the professor who taught me John’s Gospel—Jim Martin—paralleled that when he said to our class, “You can never read too much into John’s Gospel. It’s all there for a purpose.” And over the nearly 4 decades since I first heard that, I’ve found it to be trustworthy advice. Oh, yeah … 35 years ago. Those were the days when I “would fasten my own belt and go wherever I wished.” But I think I’ll save that for another sermon.
In these 5 verses, there’s a lot going on and scholars have been trying to parse its meaning at least since the time of the early Christian theologian, Origen, which means for the last 1800 years. One of the sources of debate is, of course, how the text is translated from Greek to English, and whether we’re talking about sleet, or slush, or ice, or is it just snow? No, you didn’t miss that part—snow wasn’t mentioned in today’s reading! But there are some different words require some very careful translation, and there’s been all sorts of speculation about whether it’s important or not that John chose to use different Greek words for “love” in that conversation between Jesus and Peter, because they’re in fact, different words with different meaning. And what’s up with the shifting phraseology from “Feed my lambs” to “Tend my sheep” to “Feed my little sheep”? Is there significance in this exchange being 3 questions? And joking aside, that business about fastening your belt and getting old … what is that about? These are all questions deserving of exploration and would serve us well in doing so over a few sermons, but for today I’d simply like us to pan back slightly, and remember another old adage: “The main things are the plain things, and the plain things are the main things.” Let’s look at the bigger picture. John presents the story in this way: in the previous chapter, chapter 20, the resurrection of Jesus Christ has occurred. Mary Magdalene has had an encounter with the risen Christ, who has then appeared to the other disciples, breathing into them the Holy Spirit, and then there’s that famous episode with the less-than-convinced disciple, Thomas. The scene then shifts from the garden tomb and locked rooms to the beach. Some of the disciples have left Jerusalem, they’ve gone back on the Sea of Tiberias, what we’d more commonly call the Sea of Galilee, and they decide to do what they’ve long been used to doing: they go out fishing. When life is so complicated you don’t know what to do, revert to routine, just do what you know how to do! Jesus—who’s some distance away on the beach and not immediately recognizable to them—Jesus calls out and urges them to fish on the other side of the boat. The disciples comply and—lo and behold—there’s suddenly a massive catch of fish in the net. The one whom the Gospel writer refers to mysteriously as “The disciple whom Jesus loved” recognizes Jesus and tells Peter, who immediately leaps out of the boat and swims to shore, where he’s soon joined by this boatload of rather excited fisher-folk. They’re all now on shore and they see a charcoal fire. Do remember that the last mention of a charcoal fire in John’s Gospel is the one Peter was hunched over denying that he’d even been one of Jesus’ disciples. Hmmm. Jesus says, “Come on gang, let’s have breakfast,” and he gives them some fish and bread. The Gospel writer notes that this is the 3rd time they’ve seen Jesus since he was raised from the dead. Oh, all these numbers. What do they mean, Professor Martin?
This morning’s reading now begins when after breakfast Jesus says to Peter: “Simon son of John ….” Okay, let’s stop for a second. This is the only time in the Gospels that records Jesus speaking to Peter in this way, using Peter’s patronymic—“son of John.” I think it’s rather like the occasions when my mother used to address me when I was young, “Phillip Arthur Spencer!” When I got the whole shooting match—first name, middle name (my grandfather’s name, incidentally), and surname—well, I knew she really wanted all my attention. Jesus asks, “Simon, son of John—do you love me more than these?” … though just who “these” are is a bit ambiguous. Do you love me more than these boats? More than fishing? More than relationships with the other disciples? Or even, do you love me more than they love me? Let’s keep in mind that this is the disciple who, in Mark and Matthew’s Gospel at the last supper, adamantly declared his loyalty to Christ, saying that even if the others deserted Jesus, he wouldn’t. Oh, Peter. Who “these” are is a bit uncertain, and perhaps it’s purposely so, but a seemingly bewildered Simon responds to the question by saying, “You know that I love you.” This is when we get the first response by Jesus: “Feed my lambs.” He asks again, “Simon, Son of John, do you love me?” A bit more concise and the whole “than these” question is put aside. Again, Peter says, “Yes, you know that I love you,” to which Jesus says, “Tend my sheep.” He asks a third time, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” In my mind’s eye I picture Jesus with his hands on Peter’s face, eyes locked on his—an unspoken, “Are you paying attention to this, Peter!” in the air. The somewhat fragile, and perhaps hurt Simon, son of John says, “You know everything—you know that I love you!” To which Jesus responds, “Feed my sheep.”
Maybe it’s then that the “penny dropped” for Peter. He puts together the last time he was at a charcoal fire, he remembers his three denials (just as Jesus had prophesied), he remembers the rooster crowing, and here he is now at another charcoal fire and he’s been led through a process of re-declaring his faith in Jesus—how many times? Why, three times! And Peter now realizes he’s been given a fresh start. Jesus concludes by reissuing the call to him that he’s made to every single disciple in all times and places, which is, “Follow me.” In last Sunday’s Bible reading and sermon from Acts 9, we heard a call being placed on Paul’s life and in this week’s passage, we’re hearing what at least one Biblical commentator refers to as a “call back” story, a fresh start story.[3] “Follow me,” and a now restored Peter begins with a clean slate.
Like I suspect many congregations emerging after having experienced these last two years of a pandemic, we here in Comox have been undergoing a time of self-examination and we’ve been about this in a formal and intentional way. We’ve chosen to take the deep dive into reviewing and clarifying our mission, vision, and ministry needs, which is especially important in light of both our need to call of a new pastor, a new minister and the reality that our mission field is shifting rapidly. It’s a significant “who-are-we-and-what-are-we-about” time we’re in, as we regroup, and in some way, begin again. But let’s just come back to what struck me as the plain thing in our deceptively simple text, one that is, as noted, filled with layer upon layer of meaning. To restore Peter, to help him begin the ministry that he was called to, to enable Simon, the son of John to follow he asks him … what? He asks, “Do you love me?” Do you love me more than … whatever else it is you might also love? There’s a lot that competes for our love, our attention, both individually and together and Jesus is calling for his people to know where he stands in that competition. Do you love me?
I confess that I struggle with all the complexity of this Biblical text, just as I struggle with the complexity of my life. But I have the sense that the fresh start I have every morning when I rise to face the day, in the need I have to face up to my not-infrequent denials and betrayals of the one I presume to call Lord, in the not-so-uncommon confusion I have in knowing just how and where to follow, that the place I need to begin—again and again and again (yes, that was three times for those keeping count), but in reality, many more times, the place I need to begin is in responding to Christ’s question, “Do you love me?” Do you love me more than all this other stuff, Phil? Do you love me, Comox United?
I think we’re always being asked that, because there are competitors—success, security, standing, routine, tradition, family, friends, self. What are they for you? Following Jesus is complicated and confusing and often-times, in my experience anyway, really, really hard. Far from making my life simpler or easier, Christ has made it far more challenging. Then again, back in the 6th chapter of John, Jesus followers were having a tough go of it, and we’re told that many fell away, and so Jesus asked the 12 if they wanted to leave, too. And one of them says, “Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life.” Do you remember which disciple said that? Yeah, it was Peter, also known as Simon, the son of John. To whom can we go?
“Do you love me?” Jesus is asking us this day, a day we regroup and start again. If the answer is yes, then there are sheep to be fed. Amen
[1] http://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/inuktitut-words-for-snow-and-ice/
[2] http://www.bbc.com/news/uk-scotland-34323967
[3] Kiki Barnes, “Called and Called Back,” from Sunday’s Coming: The Christian Century, May 1, 2022.