August 24, 2008

Glynn Cardy

Pentecost 15     Matthew 16:13-20

In the school of Liberation Theology, wherein I was weaned, it is important to state one’s social location. So, I begin today with a confession: I am the son of a fisherman.

Not just any fisherman, mind you, but a fly fisherman. Without giving you the entire credo undergirding my childhood, suffice it to say that fly fishermen consider their art to be the true and pure form [the ‘single malt’ of fishing], and bring to it a passion that is religious in its devotion.

Now the son of a fly fisherman is a category all of its own. There are gender expectations of similar devotion and accompanying skill. Some sons willing embrace the art. Others refrain from embracing. I was among the latter.

However I have retained a respect for the art and the passion it invokes as well as some insight into the disciplines, like standing waist-deep in the ice-cold waters of the Tongariro.

St Peter of course was a fisherman. And I, as you would expect, bring to his stories both my respect and my reservations. I respect his endurance, his skill, his passion, and the patience of his family and friends. My reservation is that passion, talents, and the presumptions that often accompany them can lead to much good but also can harm. They can lead to an inflated self-importance and the pushing of others into obscurity. This was Peter’s shadow side, to use that Jungian phrase, and a side that the New Testament was not shy in revealing.

The historians tell us that Peter bar Jonas was a Galilean – one of those from the rural and politically rebellious north. The Jonas family were affluent Jews in that they owned fishing boats and had taught their sons at least three languages [Aramaic, Hebrew, and Greek]. There was also a family affinity for alternative religion of the contentious variety. Peter and Andrew were probably followers of John the Baptist before swapping to Jesus. Both John and Jesus were populist preachers who challenged the legitimating symbols of power in Roman-occupied Palestine, and suffered the consequences. Following Jesus’ death Peter was one of the leaders of a emerging religious sect. He seems to have been a centrist in the early ecclesial debates, between the followers of James on one side and the followers of Paul on the other. He lived and worked for some years in Antioch and its environs and later in Rome where he was killed in the persecution under Nero – around 64 CE.

The early preachers and story-tellers however give us much more than the historians. Indeed so much more that your patience would be sorely tested if I attempted to comment on the full extent of their work. So I will be randomly selective, as I suspect the gospel writers were. I will also leave the Peter of the Acts of the Apostles and the Pauline letters, and the letters that bear his name but not his authorship, alone.

Firstly I want to comment upon the two calls – the ‘follow me’ of Matthew 4:18ff and the ‘feed my sheep’ of John 21:15ff. In both stories Peter is out with his friends fishing. Peter is a social creature, enjoying the camaraderie and team work of this vocation. As a fisherman he knows about patience, toil with little result, and the blend of luck and skill that determines success. Jesus meets him in the context of what Peter both knows and is secure in. And both times Jesus calls Peter out of that knowledge and security.

Away from the environment he knew Peter initially flounders. The Gospels are full of stories of Peter getting it wrong. Whereas I doubt Peter often got it wrong when he was fishing. The call to follow Jesus was actually a call to change vocations, to change the direction of his life. He didn’t grow old teaching his grandchildren how to catch fish on the shores of Lake Galilee!

You may have noticed that the fishing metaphor to describe Peter’s change in vocation doesn’t quite work. The synoptic passage has the call to follow Jesus linked with an occupational change from catching fish to catching people. But the metaphor has a cringe factor about it – for fish, once caught, are killed, filleted, cooked and eaten! Other gospel contributors dropped the metaphor. The Johannine commission has Peter feeding sheep not catching fish. There are no references to fishing in the Peter speeches in Acts or in the Pauline letters.

So, my first point is that Peter was asked by Jesus, twice, to give up his fishing that he loved, knew, and was respected in, to follow a way of love and justice that he only faintly understood. Both times when he responded to Jesus with a ‘Yes’ he didn’t know what he was letting himself in for.

Secondly, I’d like to comment on the water stories. Whereas the fishing metaphor dies out as the story progresses, the prevalence of water doesn’t. He fishes on the water, he tries to walk on the water, he allows the water to wash his feet , and he leaps into the water .

Like many Aucklanders I grew up close to water and have loved it all my life. Beside it, on it, in it, under it… the sea has been a constant friend and companion. But this understanding would have been foreign in the ancient world. The sea and its depths were to be feared. Not many, even fishermen, could swim. There was an association too between water and ill-health, I presume along the lines of catching pneumonia from bathing.

My point is that the water stories are not just about compulsive bravado but about conquering fear. This the lens through which I read the walking on water episode. In case you’re wondering, I don’t think Peter or Jesus literally walked on water. The storytellers were saying that Jesus does what God does [see Job 9:8] and rescues the drowning [the Psalms have a number of passages about God who rescues supplicants from drowning]. The message of the text is that God-in-Jesus speaks to our fears, invites us to try the impossible, and walks beside us when we do.

I suspect Peter had a number of fears: a fear of failure, a fear of not being chosen, a fear of doing the wrong thing, a fear of himself… Many of the Peter stories in the gospels are about Jesus addressing the issue of fear.

Lastly, I want to talk about the rock episode as per our reading this morning. As you probably know Protestants have preferred to label Peter’s confession of Jesus as the anointed one [in Greek ‘the Christ’] as the rock and Roman Catholics the person of Peter. Protestants believe the Church has been built upon the realization of Jesus’ identity, whereas Catholics believe the Church has been built on the leadership of Peter. Upon this little pebble in the ecumenical shoe whole books have been written and I don’t intend to add more grit.

I want instead to muse for a moment on the stability of a rock that acknowledges its fragility. For this is the great irony in calling Peter a rock – he was so patently flawed. Or of calling his or others confessions of Jesus a rock when often a few moments later they are getting it so wrong. Following our Gospel reading today, for example, Jesus admonishes Peter: “Get behind me Satan” [The Satan being like a prosecuting lawyer in a courtroom rather than a hot fellow with horns].

Consider too that the Gospels are products of the Post-Easter Church written and edited by people for whom changing a word here or there, or showing a beloved leader like Peter in a better light, would have been considered appropriate when ‘moved by the Spirit’. Given this it is both surprising and wonderful that the early Church had the confidence and maturity to re-present one of its key leaders [some would say the key leader] in such an unflattering light. They could have, for example, just kept the rooster in and edited out the sinking or the Satan.

We see in these inclusions a Church that is not frightened of its faults, its shadow side. This is a Church that is emotionally and spiritually robust. If all the male disciples run away the Church keeps moving. If the treasurer cashes in for 30 pieces of silver the Church keeps going. If one of the brightest and best of the revitalized movement [Stephen] is stoned to death the Church re-interprets his death as foundational. If Peter the beloved leader has a tendency to get a big head, act rashly, and dwarf his friends this Church will tell you. They aren’t into hiding weaknesses. Strength doesn’t come from the denial of weakness. Strength comes when that weakness is integrated into the whole.

So this morning I want to pay tribute to Peter who had the courage to leave his vocation for an uncertain future, to conquer his fears including his fear of himself, and to see and teach others that our failings and vulnerability are part of our strength. He is a worthy leader to follow and emulate.