Psalm 27:1, 11-14; John 21:15-19
How would you define courage? What makes for a courageous person? What tends to jump to mind first in popular culture is acts of bravery or valour. It is having the guts to do something extra-ordinary that most normal human beings would avoid. It is the warrior riding into battle or maybe firefighters entering the flames of a burning building. It is trusting in your own strength, and putting yourself at risk or sacrificing safety for the sake of others, which may result in death or bodily harm. Mind over matter. We hear lots in the media right now about the courageous Ukrainian freedom fighters, as I suspect Russian fighters are being praised internally in Russia in the same way. We reward courage with medals like the Victoria Cross in England and Commonwealth countries or the Medal of Honor in the States, for valour in the face of the enemy and risking life beyond the call of duty in action against an enemy. This is bravery and courage. Or is it?
While reading the newspaper, I saw a Record ad for a showing this weekend at Centre in the Square, with live orchestra, of the timeless and classic 1939 movie, The Wizard of Oz. It is the story of Dorothy from Kansas, with dog Toto as they are transported to a whole new scary world of Oz. As she follows the Yellow Brick Road, she picks up as travelling companions a Scarecrow, that needs a brain, a Tin Man, who is missing a heart, and a Cowardly Lion, who wants courage. A lion, the King of the Jungle, is afterall the symbol of courage. The Cowardly Lion jumps out them to scare them, but then melts in their presence, the roar becoming a whimper. ‘You are nothing but a great big coward’ exclaims Dorothy. ‘I am a coward. I haven’t any courage at all. I even scare myself…. won’t you be embarrassed to be seen with a cowardly lion.’ This ragtag group has to face the wicked witches and some winged monkeys. When Dorothy gets captured, the Scarecrow, Tin Man and Lion sneak into the castle and save her, only to face even more danger. Spoiler alert – but you have had since 1939, they do eventually find the Wizard of Oz, who is really just an old man with a microphone, who gives each of them a symbol to help them realize their true strengths and that they already have the qualities within that they sought. The Lion is given a medal of valour, a reminder that despite all his fears, he in fact has courage. He has it in him. It does not necessarily come from a big roar and frightening others, but through honestly facing what comes in life and his own insecurities, and acting out of that place. He first needed others to have confidence in him, and to start to believe in his own very ordinary courage. In the language of our worship series, he is able to draw upon some deeper reservoirs of resilience and courage from those around him and from within.
I thought of this movie, as I kept reading the story of Peter at the end of John’s gospel. Peter would have very much identified with the Cowardly Lion. After the crucifixion he is at an absolute low point. He fell asleep in the garden, he cut off a soldier’s ear, and then he denies even knowing Jesus three times, a harsh self-shaming reminder heard every morning with the rooster crow. As our guest from Shalom Counselling, Susan Schwartzentruber stated as she started our worship series 3 weeks ago with the same character, ‘Peter loved Jesus yet he made mistakes over and over again. Peter’s Messiah and friend dies and how does he carry on. Peter is the sinker, sleeper, aggressor, impulsive one, denier, and average guy.’ Peter is like the cowardly Lion. Yet Susan went on to name him as the resilient one and the Rock on which the church will be built. How could that have happened given the state he was in?
I wonder if it is this interaction of Jesus and Peter on the beach that makes all the difference. Jesus knows what Peter has gone through and how fragile he was. After a surprise early morning catch of fish and a remarkable breakfast on the beach with the disciples, Jesus takes Peter aside. He asks him, ‘Peter, do you love me?’ The answer is obvious, ‘Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.’ ‘Feed my lambs.’ But then Jesus asks the same question a second time and then a third. Peter is irritated and even hurt by this continued pressing of the already answered question. Why keep asking me that? Yet there is something that happens in the repetition, in the three times, in the same number of times Peter had answered the question of knowing Jesus with a denial. Peter would have caught the pattern, the significance, and the deep grace of Jesus with its belief and confidence in Peter. This was Jesus’ way of saying he still believed in Peter – ‘Follow me.’ You can and will be the leader needed for just such a time as this. This was his pep talk. This was his way of drawing out the inner resolve and courage of Peter that might otherwise have disappeared. What it took for Peter was to squarely face his past, his denials, his failures, his own pain. By repeating his love of Jesus three times, out loud, Peter entered into the vulnerability of his own story and history. His was given the gift of courage to face a new future without Jesus, and the trials of building the kind of new faith community we see in the book of Acts. It is a form of courage that comes through pain and brokenness and vulnerability, but it is also a courage that is resilient and that makes a true difference in the world.
This is a very different form of courage than acts of bravery and valour. During this worship series we have been drawing on an article by Bishop Janice Riggle Huie called ‘Reservoirs of Resilience in Uncertain Times – reflections on hope, courage and purpose’. (https://tmf-fdn.org/assets/images/12.21.20_Reservoirs-of-Resilience.pdf) She writes this about courage: ‘I want to suggest that for disciples of Jesus in our day, courage is not the unique, the marvelous, or the exception. Rather it is ordinary Christians moving toward the pain and discomfort in our world instead of remaining comfortable in our safe places. It is our willingness to move toward mystery and deep encounters with the holy. It is risking the security of what we posses now to envision, create and build the world that God imagines.’ (p.21) This is the kind of courage we see emerging in Peter through his encounter with Jesus. She goes on to talk about the Latin root of the word courage, which is ‘cor’ – the heart. Courage is actions that spring from an open heart – it is speaking out of a place of vulnerability and honesty.
In the last few years, so much of our world has changed, we have needed to face much, there are many challenges. If we are honest, we know it has taken its toll personally and collectively. We don’t know what the future will all hold. Jesus would invite us to enter into these uncertain places of pain and anxiety with the question – Do you love me? – repeated as many times as we need to hear it, each time deepening our confidence and assurance to step into the unknown with a courage rooted in the ordinary and supported by the holy mystery and love of God. We will need this in our personal lives and families, in a changing church, and in our broader neighbourhoods, communities and worlds. I think about our youth receiving prayer shawls as they enter into a new and open stage of life and bring the blessings of this community with them. I think about the many people facing transitions in work, schooling, housing or health. I think about our congregation, as we continue to gather more fully together again and re-imagine what church now looks like. I think about a congregation being willing to participate in an emotional and thought provoking blanket exercise yesterday and entering into the Indigenous experiences of colonization and violence and dislocation and hope with an open heart of listening, learning, healing and reconciliation. I think about our world as we face global unrest and war, economic uncertainty and climate change. In all these and more, we will need courage, and a courage deeply rooted in the reservoirs of our faith, that honestly and vulnerably faces and enters into pain and discomfort and mystery, knowing we are loved.
This past Tuesday, Rachel and I attended the funeral of a 32 year old woman, Stephanie Prysnuk, in a packed Knox Presbyterian Church. Until just a few years ago, Steph, sister Beth and their mother Barb were our neighbours across the street on Stirling Ave. N. The day we moved into our house, they warmly welcomed us, and on first meeting we exchanged house keys. Who does that? Barb introduced us to the neighbourhood. Beth babysat our kids. We never met Wayne, husband and father, who had died of a sudden heart attack 3 months before we moved in. One way their family honestly and courageously faced the pain of that loss was to host a yearly neighbourhood Pumpkin People party before Halloween, as we all carved pumpkin heads for the many life-sized characters that emerged on their lawn – the view directly out of our front window the main beneficiary. We were invited to Barb’s wedding to Fred a few years ago, which transformed their family unit of 3 to 31! and when they moved. Steph, the youngest of the 2 girls, had a complicated birth and dealt with persistent congenital heart issues and developmental and physical delays…. Her body was fragile and she returned many times into hospital care. It was her heart that eventually gave out last week. Throughout the funeral and the tributes we kept hearing the word courage. Steph was a beautiful soul, always full of smiles and laughter, and, as family described it, was fiercely independent and determined. Sister Beth shared the story of family waiting 5-10-15-20 minutes for her first time tying her own shoes – No Help! Steph became a photographer and a constant fundraiser for various causes. She planned trips and outings and sent off Facebook messages at all hours of the day to anyone she knew. She engaged with her faith community and both received support, but also shared so much support and her gifts with others. She did not let her disabilities stop her from engaging life fully. Three times she managed to live independently in her own apartment, the latest 9 months ago back in our neighbourhood, even as her body was slowing down. Her Mom Barb referred to 2 qualities of Steph – accepting the things in life she couldn’t change and making the most of the things she could do. And being open to trying new things, even if it meant being brave. She was constantly trying new things and pushing herself. She referenced the Serenity Prayer – God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. In Beth’s letter to her sister tribute, she said ‘Steph, you faced so many challenges in your life – medical and physical challenges… yet you lived… you lived with your whole heart, nothing got you down .. .and your positive attitude got you so far… You lived your life with courage and bravery and the kindness and humour you extended to everyone. .. People were drawn to you and loved being around you…You would encourage us to laugh wholeheartedly, plan a trip, event, activity… be brave and take risks. Give back. Help Others. Volunteer. Care for the people you love with your whole heart.’ Steph has this ordinary, yet remarkable courage that emerged right out of her own vulnerabilities. Sitting in that moving funeral, I was inspired by Steph’s life and the example and the courage she showed. Collectively it was a moment of a deep encounter with the holy.
As we live and move and have our being in this world, in uncertain times, we have deep deep reservoirs of faith to draw upon. It is like this cactus plant that has been in front of our worship display these last 4 weeks. To survive a harsh environment, a cactus draws on even the smallest reservoir of water to survive and even thrive. I am not sure if you can see this from the back or on camera on line, but have you noticed that over these 4 weeks, all sorts of new growth has emerged out of this cactus, during this worship series – little signs of hopes and resilience. We too can dip out of the reservoirs of our faith and put out new shoots of growth and hope. We have the example of Peter, the rest of the disciples and so many faithful followers throughout history and in the lives around us. We have the gifts of courage, purpose and hope. We have a resilience that comes right in the midst of and through our pain, vulnerability and loss. We can trust in the mystery and holy wonder of our God. We have the voice of Jesus, calling to each one of us, over and over again, ‘Do you love me… Then feed my sheep. Follow me.’ Let it be so. Amen.