134. Chapter 21 - Sunrise in Galilee
Chapter 21 - Sunrise in Galilee
Sunset and sunrise by the Sea of Galilee. What a touching and exquisite setting for the closing scenes in the Gospel of John!
“O Galilee! Sweet Galilee! Where Jesus loved so much to be;
O Galilee! Blue Galilee!
Come, sing thy song again to me!” The Disciples
It is springtime in Galilee. As the evening shadows lengthen across the rippling waters of the lake, a group of men weary and travel-stained relax on the beach. The low murmur of conversation is occasionally broken by the solemn chant of a psalm which carries a ring of triumph. There are seven men in the company. Have they but newly arrived? And have the other four gone to buy bread? They have been strictly commanded to come to Galilee. How hard it had been to tear themselves away from Jerusalem, where they had seen their Lord crucified and had beheld Him risen from the dead. But they have returned to the places that throng with the memories of their blessed Master. And now they are here, what shall they do? He has promised to meet them in Galilee, but when and where? What can they do, but wait and wait?
Memories
One of the group rises with impatient movement and walks to the edge of the limpid water. The restless wash of the waves against the beach suits his mood. To the north the black basalt of busy Capernaum stands clear and distinct, encircling a beautiful white limestone synagogue. “Woe unto thee Chorazin and Bethsaida! Woe unto thee Capernaum!” Could he ever forget that wonderful sermon? How the Master’s eyes had flamed that day as He denounced the unbelieving cities! And, now — ? No, the glorious news of the resurrection must not be publicly proclaimed as yet. Patience! He moves on down the shore. The distant hills to the east of the sea are still bathed in sunlight, but the turrets and towers of Tiberias to the south are fast fading from purple to gray. Ah! Tiberias!! His hands clench. Here Herod Antipas, “that fox,” is ensconced with his luxurious and villainous court — Herod, who had joined in torturing and taunting the Master before they crucified Him. But Peter’s eyes grow dim and blurred. Who was he to think such thoughts? Had he not himself — ? Like the lash of a whip, he hears again the words, “Thou shalt deny me,” and the crowing of a cock in the distance. Hastily he glances back at the group of earnest comrades. They had been merciful toward him in his failure. They, too, had forsaken the Lord and fled for their lives. But he had openly denied — and in the court of the high priest. Ah! that look in the eyes of Jesus that drove him forth! He indeed had failed “more than these,” his comrades, in proportion to his reckless daring in entering, and his opportunity boldly to confess. A low cry is wrung from his lips: “Thank God for another chance to redeem such a failure.” Again he looks steadfastly at Tiberias standing dark and ominous against the fading skyline. “And before governors and kings shall ye be brought for my sake.” Humbly he bows his head in prayer: “O Lord, in that day may I not fail thee again!” He seems to hear the scornful words: “And when you preach how will it seem, Peter, to proclaim a crucified Messiah — a King with a crown of thorns and a mocking reed for a scepter?” In quick imitation of his Master, Peter exclaims: “Get thee hence, Satan. He is not dead, but is risen. Men have scorned and slain Him, but He is alive for evermore. It is as eternal King we shall proclaim Him. The whole earth is but His footstool.” Peter’s rigid figure relaxes and his clenched hands are released as a snatch of conversation from the group is heard: “But we have no food.” “True, but what of that?” muses Peter as he turns his gaze from Tiberias disappearing in the gloom to Bethsaida Julias to the northeast still faintly visible across the dark-blue waters of the Sea. “O ye of little faith, why reason ye among yourselves, because ye have no bread? Do ye not yet perceive, neither remember the five loaves of the five thousand and how many baskets ye took up?” Yonder is the very plain where the five thousand had been fed. What a glorious day was that! And the crowd had tried to make Him an earthly king that day! How many things are beginning to become clear, but how much is still puzzling! Yonder is the mountain just visible on the horizon where Jesus prayed that night. And here somewhere about the middle of that lake, amid angry wind and wave, Jesus had come to them, walking on the water. “Lord, if it be thou bid me come unto thee upon the waters.” Peter shakes his head impatiently as he muses; how impetuous and foolish he had ever been — another failure — “Lord, save me.”
“O memories that bless and burn!
O barren gain and bitter loss!
….….….….….….….….….….….….... And there a cross!”
Every direction Peter turns, land and sea, mountain and city cry out to him of his beloved Master — memories, memories. And always he ends by seeing his Saviour hanging from a cross, but again risen and glorious in His final triumph. The swift-moving days of Jesus’ ministry that immediately preceded the crucifixion had been so filled with action and so tense with excitement that not much leisure was possible for reflection. But now in Galilee awaiting their risen Lord the apostles “...Exempt from public haunt, Find tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones, and good in everything.” The crucifixion has been transcended by the resurrection and they confidently await His coming: “Lo, he goeth before you into Galilee; there shall ye see him.” Even the shame of their failure in their Master’s hour of supreme need is being tempered by their growing assurance of another chance to make good their failure in a tremendous public declaration of His resurrection. The Fishing Expedition
“But why spend more time in meditation? The needs of the body must be met. We can go fishing as of old and provide for our immediate needs until the Lord appears with further orders. And if He come while we are at work, what of that? Better that He find us at work to keep our bodies strong for His service, than find us idle.” With characteristic decision, Peter strides toward the group: “I go a fishing.” A moment of silence and indecision follows and then an enthusiastic and unanimous reply from all: “We also come with thee.” The boat in which they had so often sailed over the sea with their Master stands at anchor. Quickly they equip themselves for a night of toil and set forth into the lake. Through the long hours of the night they labor in vain. Twilight merges into night. A new moon arises and sheds its soft radiance on the lake, and sinks to rest. Naught is heard but the restless wash of the waves against the boat, the cry of a night bird in the sky, the ring of men’s voices in command or encouragement as they struggle and toil at the nets, the creak of the oars in the boat, the occasional splash of the net cast into the sea. The Miracle And now “rosy-fingered dawn stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.” The shore line rises up to beckon and invite them after their night of fruitless labor. The mist rises from the water’s surface and hangs itself in fantastic wreaths about tree and shrub. As the full light of day appears, they see a man standing on the beach and watching their efforts. A hundred yards away, He stands unrecognized. Was it the uncertain light, the mist, the distance, that obscured their sight and prevented recognition, or did He not will that they should recognize Him yet, even as on the way to Emmaus?
“Children, have ye aught to eat?”
Clear and distinct, His words come to them across the waters. “Children!” Their hearts leap with excitement at that affectionate title! Was He not accustomed so to address them? Could it be He? And who else would address them thus? They exchange swift glances of inquiry and fasten their gaze on the figure yonder on the beach as they reply simply, “No.”
Again He speaks: “Cast the net on the right side of the boat, and ye shall find.”
Like a bird pierced by an arrow while in headlong flight, they have halted in the midst of their labors. Now with feverish excitement they leap into action. Who else could it be? Who else would presume so to command them? Who else would attempt a hundred yards distant on the shore, to dictate to old fishermen as to which side of the boat to cast the net and to predict with such absolute assurance what would be found in the depths of the sea? They drag in the net and prepare to cast as directed. Do they not in their hearts believe it to be Jesus? How else would they yield such instant obedience to so strange a command? As they prepare to lower the net do they not recall that scene nearly three years before when they had toiled in vain through the night, but at Jesus’ command had let down the nets to take a wondrous catch? Peter stands over the gunwale of the boat casting with expert hand. He has discarded his outer garment for the arduous work in which he leads. The undergarment leaves him unencumbered and his cloak will be dry when the dripping nets have been laid out on the beach at the close of the expedition. See! How his skillful hands tremble as he makes the cast! Ready and eager helpers lay hold to hoist the net. The suspense will soon be over; they will know in a moment. The net sags and drags. But wait, wreckage caught in its meshes may he the cause. What a strange lure in fishing! The uncertainty, the curious expectancy, the baffled, but stubbornly persistent, hope, the thrilling excitement of success in the midst of failure, the battle with swift-moving, splashing, fighting fish! The net comes to the surface, a mass of whirling commotion. But the excitement of fishing has been but a subconscious undercurrent unheeded and unrecognized in the overwhelming possibility of a miracle and the presence of the risen Christ.
John is the first to speak: “It is the Lord.” It is a wild, ringing cry of joy rising above the clatter and splashing.
Peter drops the net, leaving his comrades at the critical moment when nets may break and all be lost. What cares he for fish? His chief interest in coming had been the necessity of food. Now his Lord has come, what matters aught else? Swiftly he casts his fisher’s cloak about his half-clothed form, girds himself, tucks up the robe in his girdle and with reckless daring plunges into the sea to swim to the shore. His Master is here! His Master crucified and risen, who had forgiven him for his base desertion! The risen Christ in Galilee! What joy! His reverence for his Master and his determination to rush to His side lead to the risk of swimming heavily encumbered by the long coat. He must be fit to stand in the presence of his Lord, but he cannot wait for fish nets or slow-moving boats. The Breakfast The six disciples cling helplessly to the straining net, looking with indecision and longing at the sturdy form of Peter swimming to the shore. Like a wavering battle line yielding under sudden assault, they begin to relax their hold on the net and yield to the desire to follow Peter in swift succession. Does not a sharp exhortation from John halt them? “Let us finish our task. He commanded it. “To obey is better than sacrifice.” Desperately they strain at the net, striving to lift the great bulk into the boat. To their amazement, the net does not break under the ceaseless battering of the great fish. But their efforts are unavailing. It cannot be done. The catch is too great to be lifted. “To the oars!” Quickly they divide forces; some seize the oars, while others cling to the net. As the boat grounds on the beach, they fasten the net securely to the boat. A net that has withstood such strain, will not break now. They disembark and eagerly walk up the beach “and they see a fire of coals there, and fish laid thereon, and bread.” How like the gentle and tender sympathy of their Master! He had known their hunger and their need. Had He not once said of God’s loving care, “The very hairs of your head are all numbered”? The fish in the net were not necessary. Here was food all prepared and cooked. The miraculous catch of fish had been food for hungry souls longing for their divine Master and receiving another thrilling revelation of His deity. Jesus commands them to finish the work of securing the catch. Peter rushes forward to lead in the difficult task at the slightest suggestion of Jesus. He had deserted his comrades in the critical moment of the catch, but he dashes out into the water. His clothes are already soaked and his hands are experienced at such a task. They draw up the net and count the amazing catch — “153 great fishes.” They look at them with wonder and awe. But Jesus calls them back to the fire and to breakfast. Whence this food? By whom prepared? And how? They dare not ask. But as Jesus serves each with bread and fish they gather about the fire full of awe and suppressed ecstasy.
Peter’s Love for Christ The exciting exchange between Jesus and Peter furnishes the dramatic close of the Gospel of John. The three-fold question of Jesus, “Simon, son of John, lovest thou me more than these?” broke Peter’s heart. It brought to mind his three denials in the palace of the high priest as well as his tempestuous assertion in the upper room that his love and loyalty exceeded that of others: “If all shall be offended in thee, I will never be offended” (Matthew 26:33). It is an inferior interpretation which suggests that “more than these” refers to the fishing boat and tackle, and that Peter had abandoned his apostleship when he went fishing. Peter had now seen the risen Christ three times. He was completely convinced. What is there to suggest that now in Galilee he lapses into doubt and despair? What was wrong with their going fishing? They were hungry and without supplies. The breakfast Jesus provided suggests this. They had been commanded to go to Galilee and await the coming of Jesus. What more sensible procedure could they have followed? Instead of rebuking them for having gone fishing, Jesus joined them in the expedition by working a prodigious miracle. When Peter replies to the question, he shows more humility than in the upper room. He does not now claim to love Jesus more than these other disciples loved Him. He affirms his love with an appeal each time to the supernatural knowledge of Jesus: “Yea, Lord; thou knowest that I love thee.” This was half-confession and half-protest: why should he be asked to state that which was so obvious?
“Agapao” and “Phileo” This passage is famous for its use of the two Greek words for love, agapao and phileo. Jesus asks, agapao, the first two times; He uses phileo the third time. Peter stubbornly holds to phileo in each of his answers. It is usually affirmed that the words agapao and phileo represent a higher and a lower type of love. The first is held to represent the heavenly or divine type of love; the second, the earthly or lower type. Agapao is said to mean the noble, exalted love which God has for us and which we are commanded to maintain toward all men as contrasted with phileo, which means the intimate, personal affection we hold toward our friends and relatives. (The word for the romantic type of love is eros). When Jesus commanded us to “love your enemies” (Matthew 5:44-46), the word agapao is used three times. The immediate inference from repeated use of this word in this connection seems to be that we are commanded to forgive and to hold a kindly feeling toward those who hate us, to salute them, pray for them, do good to them as opportunity offers, but we are not commanded to make intimate, personal associates of them. We are not ordered to marry some one to show our kindness of heart; a broken home would inevitably result if the characters and dispositions were too violently opposed. We are not to go into a business partnership with one who has robbed us in order to prove our kindly feeling for him; further theft, bankruptcy or disgrace would be a natural outcome. But we are commanded to maintain a generous, kindly, helpful attitude toward all. Naturally, if life is to be profitable and peaceful we are to choose for our intimate associates and friends those whom we like, those who harmonize with our life and program. Thus we are commanded to love people we do not like, but we are not expected to make intimate companions of them if this be not possible or profitable. The fine word of Paul, in Romans 12:18, is in point here: “If it be possible, as much as in you lieth, he at peace with all men.” This whole interpretation of Matthew 5:44-46 is certainly in harmony with the teaching and life of Jesus. He taught the Pharisees and Sadducees. He prayed for them. He met them in friendly intercourse when they would permit it. He opened His heart to warmly commend one when opportunity offered: “Thou art not far from the kingdom of God.” He tried repeatedly to win them to the doing of God’s will. He wept bitter tears over their stubborn and wicked defiance of God. He died for them. But He did not select any of them to be a member of the chosen twelve. They were not fit for the task. When a Pharisee arose who was sincere, great, and suited to God’s purpose, Jesus appeared to Him; and Saul, the destroyer of Christianity, became Paul the flaming evangel of Christ.
Thayer’s Analysis
Thayer’s Greek Lexicon bears out the above discrimination in his definition of the words. He gives the following meanings for agapao: “To love, to have a preference for, wish well to, regard the welfare of; the love of Christians toward one another; of the benevolence which God, In providing salvation for men, has exhibited by sending His Son...”; “the love which led Christ to undergo sufferings and death..., of the love with which God regards Christ; it involves affectionate reverence, prompt obedience, grateful recognition of benefits received; when referring to a thing — to take pleasure in the thing, prize it above other things, be unwilling to abandon it or do without it; to welcome with desire, to long for.” For phileo, Thayer gives two general meanings: “(1) To love, to be friendly to one; (2) to kiss.” He gives the following discrimination between the two verbs. (1) Agapao denotes a love founded in admiration, veneration, esteem...as to be kindly disposed to one, wish one well. (2) Phileo denotes an inclination promoted by sense and emotion. He notes that God is said to love the world (agapao — John 3:16), but to love the disciples of Jesus (phileo — John 16:27). Christ bids us to love our enemies (agapao and not phileo), because love as an emotion cannot be commanded, but only love as a choice. He affirms that even in some cases where the verbs appear to be used interchangeably (John 14:23; John 16:27), the difference can still be traced.
Several things are evident from a study of Thayer’s definitions and citations from classical and Hellenistic literature. (1) He sustains the major contention that agapao is the verb of generous, kindly attitude, while phileo is that of intimate, personal affection. The fact that the second general meaning of phileo is “to kiss” (or “to embrace”) helps to make this clear. (2) He does not sustain the oft-repeated declaration of preachers and commentators that agapao means a high and lofty type of love — the divine; phileo a lower type of love — the earthly. This contention is destroyed by the fact that John uses both words of the love of God for man — agapao, for all men; phileo, for the disciples of Jesus. Both verbs in the New Testament have a lofty content. Certainly we should not expect God to have a “lower” type of love for the disciples of His Son — those who are doing the will of God, those who have become His children — than for all men. It rather bears out the major contention noted above, while destroying the second. This is exactly the distinction which common sense would lead us to expect. Is it reasonable to suppose that the love of father and mother for their children, of children for parents, of husband and wife for each other, of devoted friends and relatives for one another would be classed in the Scripture as a “lower type of love” than that which we hold for those we have never seen or do not know personally or intimately? Is it true that our love for those we know and hold most precious to us is less noble and less self-sacrificing, less forgiving and less uplifting than that we maintain for our enemies or strangers? Does not the love of a father for his children represent the love of God for mankind and vice versa in continual figures, parables, and teaching by word and deed both in the Old Testament and the New Testament?
Bernard’s Analysis
J. H. Bernard (International Critical Commentary on John pp. 702-705) offers a very careful study of the use of the two verbs in the New Testament. Bernard comes to the conclusion that the two words are used almost interchangeably, and that the only difference is that “phileo is the more comprehensive, and includes every degree and kind of love or liking, while agapao is the more dignified and restrained. But even so vague a distinction cannot be pressed very far.” Thus, while citing practically the same classical illustrations as Thayer, he arrives at a conclusion practically obliterating the distinction Thayer makes. His study of the use of the word in John’s Gospel is rather impressive, but it seems to lack the more careful discrimination Thayer shows. Bernard cites the following:
Both verbs are used of God’s love for man: Agapao,John 3:16; John 14:23; John 17:23; 1 John 4:10, 1 John 4:19, etc.; but phileo in John 16:27 (Revelation 3:19).
Both verbs are used of the Father’s love for the Son: Agapao,John 3:35; John 10:17; John 15:9; John 17:23, John 17:24, John 17:26 (cf. Mark 9:7); but phileo in Mark 5:20.
Both verbs are used of Jesus’ love for men: Agapao,John 11:5; John 13:1, John 13:23, John 13:34; John 14:21; John 15:9; John 19:26; John 21:7, John 21:20; but phileo,John 11:3, John 11:36; John 20:2.
Both verbs are used of the love of men for other men: Agapao,John 13:24; John 15:12, John 15:17; 1 John 2:10; 1 John 3:10, 1 John 3:14, 1 John 3:23; 1 John 4:7, 1 John 4:20; but phileo,John 15:19. The noun agape is used for the love of men for each other, John 13:35; John 15:13; 1 John 4:7; but the noun philadelphia is used especially of the love of Christians for one another, John 13:34; Titus 3:15.
Both verbs are used of the love of men for Jesus: Agapao John 8:42; John 14:15, John 14:21, John 14:23, John 14:24, John 14:28; John 21:15, John 21:16; but phileo,John 16:27; John 21:15, John 21:16, John 21:17 (cf. Matthew 10:37; 1 Corinthians 16:22). The love of men for God: Agapao,1 John 4:19, 1 John 4:20, 1 John 4:21; 1 John 5:2 (noun agape,John 2:5, John 2:15; John 3:17; John 5:42). But in the Septuagint Version of the Old Testament, agapao,Exodus 20:6; phileo,Proverbs 8:17. The love of Jesus for the Father is mentioned but once in the New Testament: Agapao,John 14:31.
Conclusions
It can be readily seen that this analysis utterly destroys the distinction drawn by so many commentators that one verb represents a higher and the other a lower type of love. But when Bernard attempts to go to the extreme of denying any real difference in meaning and of arming they are really synonymous, his own citations disprove his contention and up-hold the position of Thayer; the two verbs represent different kinds of love. Where phileo is introduced to describe God’s love for man, both times it reveals the shade of meaning of the intimate love for His own children who have been purchased by the blood of Christ. God loves all men, sends the rain and sunshine on the just and unjust, is not willing that any should perish, longs for the salvation of all, loves them so much He sent His own Son to die for them; nevertheless He loves with a warmer affection His own children who have accepted redemption at His hands and who are seeking to do His will. This is strongly reinforced by a careful reading of the citations under point (3) above, where Jesus’ love for men is so frequently agapao, but the touching, personal friendship and devotion of Jesus for His dear friend Lazarus is represented by phileo. The discrimination in the use of the nouns is also very convincing. The love of all men for each other is agape. We should love the heathen whom we have never seen and strive to prove our love by sending them the gospel. We should love our enemies and seek to do them good. But the word which became well-nigh universal for the love of Christians for one another is philadelphia.
Peter’s Answers The use of the two words in John 21:15-17 is most interesting. To make phileo represent a lower type of love not only makes Peter’s replies anti-climax; they become absurd. Jesus asks: “Do you have a generous, kindly devotion toward me?” Peter’s answer would mean: “Now I would not claim to have that much love for you, but I do have a lower earthly type of love.” Peter certainly felt that he was affirming more than agapao; he affirms intense, intimate, personal affection. At the last when Jesus uses phileo in His third question, He is not coming down to a lower level and saying: “Do you even love me as much as phileo?” He is rather meeting Peter on the basis of his claim to have the deepest, personal affection for Christ.
Peter’s Death This conversation had a further purpose in confirming the leadership of Peter among the apostles and in the church when it should he established. It also opened the way to the prediction of his martyrdom by crucifixion. John shows that one of his purposes in recording the conversation is to give him the opportunity to deny the false rumor that Jesus had predicted His second coming would occur in the lifetime of John. What more dramatic ending could the Gospel of John have than this prediction of the second coming and this denial that the apostles held that the second coming would be in their life-time?