Jealous for Me
Jesus said to Peter “Do you love me?” Not once, not twice, but three times. I’ve heard it said that the Greek words for love had different connotations. Jesus asks “Do you love me dearly (as from the heart)?” Whereas Peter responds with “approval of; treating affectionately.”
Twice Jesus asks Peter the question of heart felt, deep kindred love. A love that in many churches is referred to as “agape” love. Unconditional love that goes beyond mere friendship or familial ties like that what brothers in arms have for their fellow squad mates.
Peter responds to each piercing question with verbal assent – like how one might feel towards a childhood friend or close coworker or even the neighbor next door one might be fond of.
His last question, in what could be the point of a proverbial spear laying bare Peter’s soul, He seems to relent. His inquiry meets Peter with the same verbiage as his own responses. But here’s the kicker – Peter says “You know all things. You know I love you.”
Again, Peter’s response is “phileo” love – friendly, administrative love. Not the deep, personal, emotionally intimate love that Jesus asked of him.
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Step back a little bit and we see in this chapter a few remarkable things that lay the groundwork for Jesus’s queries.
Before the disciples recognize Him, He stood on the shore greeting them and telling them where to cast their nets. This is a mirror image of when He first appeared to them years before; when He called them to follow.
In that first meeting (Luke chapter 5), Jesus tells Peter to let down the nets after they had fished all night to no avail. The haul was too much for the boat. Again, now, after the resurrection Jesus tells them to let down their nets after a time of unsuccessful fishing. The haul was massive, and the nets did not break. Immediately they recognized Whose work this was.
So, they come to shore and Jesus, freshly revealed to them, gives them fishes and loaves. Sound familiar? I wonder if they had a recollection of the times Jesus multiplied fish and loaves to feed the multitudes? Seems poignant, doesn’t it?
Back to Peter and Jesus having this heart to heart. Or rather heart to head. Peter does not seem able to meet Jesus where Jesus is asking him to be – Love deep from the heart, unconditionally, unequivocally. Instead, Peter responds with his head. His soul is fully engaged and fighting the depth of what his Rabbi is asking. And yet Peter’s response is “You know that I love you.” Again, phileo love. But I think the emphasis here is on “know.” This is the word ginosko. The depth of meaning here sometimes gets lost in translation. Ginosko love is that deep, profound, full of comprehension, understanding, recognition, awareness and intimacy. A love that says “you get me without me having to explain who I am.” The Jews used this idiomatically in terms of marriage relationships, not in the context of physical relationships (although applicable in marriage) but regarding that connectedness two people share.
In essence, what I think Peter is saying to Jesus is “You already know me. How I promised to die for You and yet cowered in fear; how I recognized You as the Messiah yet watched You die a horrible, agonizing death; how I ran to the tomb to see it empty but couldn’t fathom why You left me behind; how I returned to old habits instead obeying the charge to go into all the world and spread the Good News.” This what I would have wrestled with. Why not Peter?
Switch tracks with me. A quick search of the Bible yields 13 Old Testament references for God being jealous. Seven alone are in the Pentateuch. There are far more references for this word but let’s focus on these.
The Hebrew word is qana (Kaw-Naw). I am by no means a Hebrew scholar. But this language is saturated in words pictures. Rarely is a single letter just that, a letter. Often they are tied with deep and significant meanings. So, in my rudimentary understanding, when I read about the meaning of qana I find the obvious – Jealousy, as in an envious desire to protect/keep what is yours; Zeal – a consuming passion for someone or something.
But there are other subtexts and tones to this word. Roots found in the concepts of a bird building a nest to protect and raise her young; acquiring and gathering to yourself; possession of a herd or grove or land. These are active definitions. There must be movement, action for them to be reality.
Throughout the Old Testament this word is used over and over, generally in reference to Adonai, Yahweh, God that is I Am. And it’s directed to His chosen people.
Here sit’s Peter, back on the beach, drying off from the splashing dash from boat to shore, sharing morsels of fish and loaves prepared by the Messiah – He who said “I Am.” Yet he was asked, “Do. You. Love. Me?” Unequivocally, unconditionally, all heart. Put the thoughts, the doubts, the questions, anxiety, fear, unknowns, failures, etc. on the shelf. Or better yet, in the flames dancing right there.
“For He is Jealous for Me” plays the song, “Love like a hurricane, I am a tree, bending beneath the weight of His wind and mercy.”
Like Peter, we are challenged – “Do you love Me?” And like Peter, we tend to lean hard into that answer – Phileo. Head not heart. Think of it… he sees the fish in the net, the loaves and fish roasting over coals, the smell of smoke touching a memory of days not to long before his world came crashing around him and he buckled. He’s asked for something he doesn’t know he can offer. He’s asked to give the only thing he has left, and he doesn’t think it’s enough. So he offers what he thinks he can – phileo.
And in His mercy, Jesus asks “Do you phileo me?” He knows Peter. Inside, out, ugly, messy, cowardly, passionate, driven, faltering. Every piece, every bit, He ginosko-knows. And he says “phileo.”
Jesus could have stuck with “agape.” He could have driven home the intensity of his question and the challenge with it. He could have struck Peter’s soul to shreds by pushing one last time to have the disciple commit to want he could not live up to. (Maybe this is the reason Peter felt unworthy enough to be crucified like Christ, instead being flipped on his head, hung from his feet instead.)
But Jesus didn’t do that. He knew, ginosko knew Peter would probably have crumpled, utter failure hanging like a banner over his head for the remainder of his life, most likely fishing the shoals of Galilee. But great was His mercy. And His jealousy.
This isn’t the jealousy we see exemplified in culture, on TV and movie screens, in the black and white text of novels. There’s no slashing of tires or glasses of red wine tossed into the face of the unfaithful partner. We’re not talking red-eyed raging jealousy here. This is different.
This is the nest-building jealousy. It’s the understanding the fledgling can plummet to their death before they have feathers and fly so gather what is needed to assemble and build and protect what matters most – life. It’s the shepherd drawing in his flock at night into the pen and counting the sheep to ensure they are safe from wolves. And yes, it’s the passion to seem them well and guarded and growing. It’s the zeal to continue on through storms and bone-wearying weather. Through night raids and insatiable predators. It’s the zeal that drives a man to snatch the lamb from the jaws of lions even if it means he only gets two legs and a piece of an ear.
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This is the jealousy we are reading about. This in the depth of His love. It’s not to keep us from our desires or to separate us from things He knows are not beneficial. It’s a keeping close of the ones He agape-loves. HE agapes. It’s the gathering of what is needed to keep us near.
Maybe this is why He relented with Peter; why he seems to relent. Make no mistake. He is not giving any ground. There’s no sheep He won’t search the ends of the earth for. You and I are no different. But He knows we’re not there let. We’re not capable, yet, of returning that agape love. We can only nod and say phileo.
So, here you are, trying to break the chill from the dip you just took racing to shore. Shivering, shaking wet. Staring at the face of your closest friend, mentor, teacher, brother – once dead, now alive. The salty aroma of roasting fish and the nutty scent of fresh bread mixing with the smoke of a seaside fire as the waves lap behind you. Your companions are all a twitter, muttering to themselves, to each other. With compassion in His eyes, he says “Do you love me?”
What’s your answer? I know what I want mine to be. And I know what would and has tumbled out of mouth. There is no formula to this. No science, no script. Just you and Him. Face to face, toes in the sand.
“And after saying this he said to him, ‘Follow me.’” (John 21:19b)
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