Love Motivation
Conversation between two men. A conversation that drives and bring up emotion and constitute value
BELOVED DISCIPLE. A distinctive feature of the Gospel of John is the appearance in the later chapters of a character denoted simply as “the disciple whom Jesus loved.”
A. Introduction
At the Last Supper the beloved disciple (henceforth BD) has a position of intimacy and privilege close to the breast of Jesus. Through him Peter seeks information from Jesus concerning the identity of the betrayer (John 13:23–25). The disciple stands along with the mother of Jesus at the cross. Both are commended to each other by the Lord, and the disciple takes her to his own home (19:26–27). Following Mary Magdalene’s report, the disciple outruns Peter in a race to the empty tomb. Prompted by the distinctive arrangement of the grave clothes, he “sees and believes” (20:2–10). The disciple, involved with Peter in the miraculous catch of fish, recognizes the stranger on the shore as the risen Lord (21:7). He later follows Jesus and hears his fate discussed by Peter and the Lord in a way that gives rise to a false rumor that he was not to die (21:20–23). Though not explicitly mentioned, this disciple is clearly meant in the subsequent reference to the one who “witnesses and has written these things” (21:24). Following the death of Jesus and piercing of his side, there is a similar indication of sure witness given by “one who has seen.” This witness must be the BD, since he is the only male disciple indicated as present at the crucifixion. More controversial is a reference in 18:15–16 to “another disciple,” who accompanies Peter to Jesus’ trial and who, on the strength of being known to the high priest, is able to gain access to the proceedings for himself and Peter. The association with Peter and certain links with 20:2–10 (cf. 20:2: “the other disciple whom Jesus loved”; 20:3: “the other disciple”) suggest that here too the BD is meant (Neirynck 1975). Some scholars have also seen a reference to the BD in the unnamed disciple who along with Andrew leaves John the Baptist to become a disciple of Jesus in 1:35–40. However, readers of the gospel could hardly be expected to pick up such an elusive hint of the BD’s presence.
Beloved Disciple, The
Beloved Disciple, the, a disciple mentioned only in the Gospel of John and never identified by name. Appearing first at the Last Supper, reclining at Jesus’ bosom, at Peter’s bidding he asks the identity of Jesus’ betrayer (13:23-25). At the crucifixion, standing beneath the cross with Jesus’ mother, he is entrusted with her care (19:25-27). On Easter morning, he outruns Peter to Jesus’ tomb and finds it empty (20:2-10). Later, in Galilee, he identifies for Peter a figure standing on the shore as the risen Jesus (21:7). Finally, Jesus parries Peter’s question about whether the Beloved Disciple will live until Jesus’ return (21:20-23), after which—at the end of the narrative—he is identified as the witness behind, and apparently the author of, the Gospel of John (21:24). References to this disciple have also been seen in the ‘other disciple’ who gains for Peter admittance to the courtyard of the high priest (18:15-16) and the trusted witness of 19:35 (cf. 21:24), although in these instances the person is not named. In every case except 19:25-27, 35, the Beloved Disciple appears alongside Peter.
The assumption that the Beloved Disciple must have been one of the Twelve led to the traditional view that he was John the son of Zebedee. Yet that identification is never made in the Gospel. The sons of Zebedee are mentioned only once (21:2) and John never by name. Moreover, the Gospel of John contains none of the episodes in which the sons of Zebedee figure according to the accounts of Mark and the other synoptic Gospels (cf. Mark 1:19-20; 1:29; 3:17; 5:37; 9:2; 10:35-45; 13:3; 14:33). See also John the Apostle; John, The Gospel According to; John, The Letters of.
Introduction
We have been using “shepherd” as a picture of what caregiving—or pastoral caregiving—looks like. Now, the metaphor of a sheep and shepherding may not be as readily embraced in our 21st-century thinking, so let’s take some time to look more closely at some of the facts that enlarge our understanding of a sheep and her shepherd, and the implications for us.
A Shepherd’s Duties
Now, the duties of a shepherd in an unenclosed country like Palestine, I understand, were very onerous. In the early morning, the shepherd would lead the flock from the fold, marching at its head, to the spot where they were to be pastured. Here he watched them all day, taking care that none of the sheep strayed, and if any for a time eluded his watch and wandered away from the rest, [he sought] diligently until he found them and brought them back. He had to be on watch constantly. And in those lands, sheep had to be supplied regularly with water, and the shepherd, for this purpose, had to guide them either to some running spring or [to] wells dug in the wilderness and furnished with troughs.
Think about those duties: he had to pasture them, he had to watch carefully so not even one sheep would stray, and he had to find a source of water each day for them. And at night he brought the flock home to the fold, counting them as they passed under the rod at the door, to assure himself that none were missing.
But even that did not end his job. Sunset didn’t mean his labors were over, because often he had to guard the fold through the dark hours of the night because of the attack of wild beasts or the attempts of a prowling thief. And of course [there’s] the familiar story of David in 1 Samuel 17, where he encountered, as a young shepherd, a lion and a bear. And it was either the lion and the bear, or it was the sheep—one or the other would win this fight. And so the shepherd was always on guard.
Sheep at Risk
Margaret Feinberg, in her book Scouting the Divine, spent some time with Lynn, a shepherdess in Oregon, learning about sheep and shepherding. I’d like to expand some of these generalities a bit more from her discoveries. I think there’s still more for us to learn about the relationship between a sheep and her shepherd.
This first item is sometimes greatly misunderstood, Lynn tells us. If you were asked, “What is the primary reason sheep are at risk without a shepherd? Is it because sheep are (a) dumb, sheep are (b) hungry, sheep are (c) anxious and agitated, or sheep are (d) defenseless?”—which would you choose?
Defenseless
Lynn is very adamant in telling us, as a modern-day shepherdess, that sheep are not dumb—that sheep are defenseless. Sheep know when a predator is nearby. She declares they’re not dumb. Sheep gather as a flock for safety. That, primarily, is their defense, because it’s the only thing they can do to protect themselves, and they know that strength and safety comes in community. And sheep trust each other to the point where they’ll follow each other off of the edge of a cliff. And so these are some of the things that sheep do because they’re defenseless and trying to protect themselves.
Parasites, Predators, and Plants
She goes on to tell us that sheep without a shepherd will die. Why? Well, there are several reasons. One is parasites. If the shepherd doesn’t find the parasites, the sheep will pay the price. The sheep don’t know they’re there, or at least, the sheep can’t deal with it. The same with predators; the predators are there, [and] if the shepherd doesn’t protect, the sheep will die. Poisonous plants—I think that’s an obvious one. They eat those, they’ll die.
The surprising one to me was that Lynn said in her experience with sheep (that is, in our country), one of the greatest risks is that sheep [will] eat too much good food. That’s the greatest threat, because if they do, it upsets the delicate balance of their rumen—and that will kill them in a few days if it’s not treated. Now, we’re quick to say that in countries where food isn’t abundant for the sheep and their grasses aren’t plentiful, [where] the sheep are more dependent on the shepherd for the next mouthful, that may not be the greatest risk.
Casting, Fleece, Fighting, and Agitation
Sheep without a shepherd will die because of another reason: sheep cast. We talked about that in an earlier session—where they rest in a hole, and they roll onto their back until they can’t get up. Their feet are absolutely straight up in the air, [leaving them] no way to get out of that crevice. Another reason is [that a] sheep’s fleece gets too heavy and becomes a painful burden.
Another one: sheep butt heads in competition, and the shepherd is the only one who can restore order. Interesting, isn’t it? And the last—when sheep grow anxious, agitated, and afraid, the shepherd is the only one who can bring comfort. These two seem to have huge implications for us in shepherding, when we think about the role of the shepherd in restoring order and bringing comfort and calm to those who are anxious, agitated, and afraid.
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21:15–17. Many contemporary commentators think of vv. 15–23 as a fundamentally different unit from what precedes. To use the language of Schnackenburg (3. 361), vv. 1–14 constitute ‘a disciple pericope’, and vv. 15–19 ‘a Peter fragment’. In the latter, the breakfast and the other disciples disappear from view, leaving only Peter, the beloved disciple, and Jesus. This is unwarranted. The opening words, When they had finished eating, establish the connection; there is no compelling reason for dismissing them as ‘editorial’ (as many do). The link is important: as Peter had boasted of his reliability in the presence of his fellow disciples (13:8, 37–38; cf. 18:10–11), so this restoration to public ministry is effected in a similarly public environment—regardless of whatever private forgiveness and reconciliation there may have been between Jesus and Peter when Jesus revealed himself after his resurrection to this one apostle, alone (1 Cor. 15:5; Lk. 24:34). Later in the pericope we are probably to think of Peter walking down the beach with Jesus, the beloved disciple not far behind, certainly within earshot (vv. 20–21).
The public nature of Peter’s reinstatement is suggested by Jesus’ initial question, Simon son of John, do you truly love me more than these? By itself, more than these (toutōn, genitive of comparison) could be interpreted in three ways: (1) ‘Do you love me more than you love these disciples?’ But this question does not cohere with any theme in the book. (2) ‘Do you love me more than you love this fishing gear?’ That is possible; the boat and the nets have been mentioned, and doubtless other gear was lying around. But in John 1 Peter is not called from his fishing, and the fishing of 21:3 has fewer negative overtones than some suppose. In any case all seven disciples went fishing: why then focus on Peter? (3) ‘Do you love me more than these other disciples do?’ (which of course assumes they are still present). This makes sense. Peter has always been able to advance the strongest personal boast. On the night Jesus was betrayed, while others were growing quiet, Peter could insist, ‘I will lay down my life for you [not “We” and “our”!] (13:37). It was Peter who slashed at Malchus (18:10). Cf. Matthew 26:33. But physical courage was not enough that night, and it was Peter also, spirit willing but flesh weak, who publicly disowned the Lord. Whatever potential for future service he had therefore depended not only on forgiveness from Jesus, but also on reinstatement amongst the disciples.
Some expositions of these verses turn on the distribution of the two different verbs for ‘love’ that appear. When Jesus asks the question the first two times, ‘Do you love me?’, the verb is agapaō; Peter responds with ‘I love you’ (phileō). The third time, however, Jesus himself uses phileō; and still Peter cannot bring himself to use more than the same. Commonly it is argued that agapaō is the stronger form of ‘to love’, but so powerfully has Peter had his old self-confidence expunged from him that the most he will claim is the weaker form—even when Jesus draws attention to the point, using the weaker form himself when he asks the question for the third time. This accounts for the distinction the NIV maintains between ‘truly love’ and ‘love’.18
This will not do, for at least the following reasons:
(1) We have already seen that the two verbs are used interchangeably in this Gospel. The expression ‘beloved disciple’, more literally ‘disciple whom Jesus loved’, can be based on either verb (cf. notes on 20:2). The Father loves the Son—and both verbs serve (3:35; 5:20). Jesus loved Lazarus—and again both verbs serve (11:5, 36).
(2) No reliable distinction can be based on the LXX. For instance, Jacob’s preferential love for Joseph is expressed with both verbs (Gn. 37:3, 4). When Amnon incestuously rapes his sister Tamar, both verbs can be used to refer to his ‘love’ (2 Sam. 13). Despite one verb for ‘love’ in the Hebrew text of Proverbs 8:17, the LXX uses both agapaō and phileō.
(3) Convincing evidence has been advanced that the verb agapaō was coming into prominence throughout Greek literature from about the fourth century BC onward, as one of the standard verbs for ‘to love’. One of the reasons for this change is that phileō has taken on the additional meaning ‘to kiss’, in some contexts.19 In other words, agapaō does not come into play because it is a peculiarly sacred word.
(4) Even in the New Testament, agapaō is not always distinguished by a good object: Demas regrettably ‘loved’ the present age (2 Tim. 4:10).
(5) Nor does it help to argue, with Hendriksen (2. 494–500), that because the total range of meaning of each verb is not the same as that of the other (e.g. agapaō never means ‘to kiss’), therefore there is necessarily some distinction to be made here. But this conclusion is invalid. All agree that synonyms enjoy differences of association, nuance and emotional colouring within their total semantic range. ‘But within any one individual passage these differences do not amount to a distinction of real theological reference: they do not specify a difference in the kind of love referred to.’20
(6) Amongst those who insist a distinction between the two verbs is to be maintained in each verse, there is no agreement. Thus, Trench21 insists agapaō is philanthropic and altruistic, but without emotional attachment, and therefore much too cold for Peter’s affection. That is why the apostle prefers phileō. By contrast, for Westcott (2. 367) agapaō denotes the higher love that will in time come to be known as the distinctively Christian love, while Peter cannot bring himself to profess more than ‘the feeling of natural love’, phileō. Bruce (p. 405) wisely comments: ‘When two such distinguished Greek scholars (both, moreover, tending to argue from the standards of classical Greek) see the significance of the synonyms so differently, we may wonder if indeed we are intended to see such distinct significance.’
(7) By now it has become clear that the Evangelist constantly uses minor variations for stylistic reasons of his own (cf. Morris, SFG, pp. 293–319). This is confirmed by the present passage. In addition to the two words for ‘love’, John resorts to three other pairs: boskō and poimainō (‘feed’ and ‘take care of’ the sheep), arnia and probata (‘lambs’ and ‘sheep’), and oida and ginōskō (both rendered ‘you know’ in v. 17). These have not stirred homiletical imaginations; it is difficult to see why the first pair should.22
Jesus’ initial question probes Peter to the depth of his being. He does not try to answer in terms of the relative strength of his love as compared with that of other disciples. He appeals rather to the Lord’s knowledge. Despite my bitter failure, he says in effect, I love you—you know that I love you. Jesus accepts his declaration, doubtless to Peter’s relief, and commissions him: Feed my lambs. The emphasis is now on the pastoral rather than the evangelistic (cf. v. 11). Peter’s love for his Lord, and the evidence of his reinstatement, are both to be displayed in Peter’s pastoral care for the Lord’s flock (cf. Jn. 10).
But that is not the end of the matter. Three times Jesus asks the same question. When Peter is particularly grieved (v. 17), it is not because Jesus has changed verbs, but because the same question is being asked for the third time. As he had disowned Jesus three times, so Jesus requires this elementary yet profound confession three times. There is no trace of self-righteousness in Peter’s response. He can only appeal to the fact that the Lord knows everything, and therefore knows Peter’s heart: Lord, you know all things; you know that I love you. And that is enough. Lest there be any doubt that Peter is fully restored to future service, Jesus again commands, Feed my lambs. This ministry ‘is described in verbs, not nouns: Tend, feed, not Be a pastor, hold the office of pastor. And the sheep are Christ’s sheep, not Peter’s. Not, Tend your flock, but Tend my sheep’ (Barrett, Essays, pp. 165–166). That Peter fulfilled the terms of the service required of him receives its best attestation in 1 Peter (esp. 5:1–4).
Strangely, some Roman Catholic scholars have used this passage to establish the primacy of Peter as the first pontiff, with rights of governance and authority. It is usually argued that in the Old Testament the figure of the shepherd was often tied to kingly rule: cf. 2 Samuel 5:2, where David declares, ‘And the LORD said to you, “You will shepherd my people Israel, and you will become their ruler”.’ When John 21:15–17 is tied to the common Roman Catholic exegesis of Matthew 16:16–19, the argument gains a certain plausibility.
But quite apart from questions of succession, which are certainly not in view in either Matthew 16:13–20 or John 21:15–17, neither the ostensible link between the two passages, nor the most common Catholic exegesis of either passage, is very secure. Matthew 16:13–20 certainly establishes a unique role for Peter in the founding of the church—i.e. it establishes what has been called ‘his salvation-historical primacy’.23 It does not establish him in a position of ruling authority over other apostles. As for John 21:15–17, neither founding pre-eminence nor comparative authority is in view. It is true that the figure of the shepherd can be used to picture authority. But this passage does not establish that Peter has relatively more authority than other ‘shepherds’ of the flock of God. When close comparisons are made with Acts 20:28 and 1 Peter 4:1–4, it becomes clear that each shepherd of the flock of God, of Jesus’ sheep, of the church of God, is to mirror both authority and a certain brokenness that is utterly exemplary. The Ephesian elders are to guard and shepherd the flock over which the Holy Spirit has made them overseers (‘bishops’—but without any evidence to support a notion, this early, of monarchical bishops with authority over several parishes), while Peter pictures himself as a ‘fellow elder’ who can encourage other elders to be ‘shepherds’ and ‘overseers’ (‘bishops’), ‘being examples to the flock’. And all must give an account to the Chief Shepherd when he appears, the Lord Jesus himself. Thus there is nothing intrinsic to the language of John 21:15–17 that suggests a distinctive authority for Peter. All Christian leadership entails a certain tension between authority and meek, exemplary service, patterned finally on Jesus himself. In the context of the Fourth Gospel, these verses deal with Peter’s reinstatement to service, not with his elevation to primacy.
Shepherds Are Leaders
We’ve just talked about [how] sheep without a shepherd will die; now we want to focus a little bit on shepherds. Shepherds are leaders. They are constantly watching the sheep for weakness, sickness, changes in behavior, etc. Really, there are a lot of different things that a shepherd watches the sheep consistently [for]. The shepherd needs skills to learn how to anticipate, how to schedule, how to organize, [and] how to strategize.
A shepherd leads from the front rather than the back. This is interesting, because again, our shepherdess Lynn (who currently is a shepherdess) says that sheep respond in fear to being pushed from behind. Now, that’s an interesting word picture—that a shepherd leads from the front rather than the back.
Shepherds Love Their Sheep
She would say [that] a shepherd must love their sheep. A shepherd is compassionate even when a sheep is a total brat. She says that a good shepherd is persistent and never gives up on the sheep. A good shepherd accepts the differences between sheep, because there is a difference, and they do have personality differences between them. She needs to love each of them, given their uniqueness. A good shepherd has a great respect for life, and she said, “Really, what sums it all up is [that] love is what makes a shepherd good.” A real shepherd; that is, a shepherd who is guiding animals as well as people.
Bad Shepherds
Now, as we continue looking at the profile of shepherding, Lynn said something that has really been startling to me, and that is this: she said, “Bad shepherds are non-shepherds. Bad shepherds aren’t shepherds at all.” As we’ve just looked at some of the things that shepherds do and that sheep need shepherds to do to stay alive, we can understand a little bit better what she has said. It reminds me of John 10, where Jesus says, “Anyone who does not enter the sheep pen by the gate, but climbs in by some other way, is a thief and a robber. A thief comes only to steal, kill and destroy.” A hired hand is not a shepherd, Jesus says. When he sees the wolf coming, what does he do? He abandons the sheep and runs away and cares nothing for the sheep.
Following a Stranger
I found it interesting that Lynn also said that sheep won’t follow a stranger. It was fun to read about Margaret among the sheep—and Lynn among the sheep—and that the sheep would not even come to Margaret, as sweet as she tried to be to them, because they knew their shepherd was Lynn, and they wouldn’t follow a stranger.
In Ezekiel 34, we see that shepherds are feasting on a prime sheep and totally neglecting the rest. That’s a perfect example of bad shepherds [being] non-shepherds.
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