[ p. 106 ]
THE call of the twelve in Mark’s story follows immediately after the declaration of war upon Jesus and the retreat to the shore of the __ lake. “He went into the moun tain,” says Mark, “and summoned the men he wanted, and they went to him ; and he appointed twelve to be with him, and to send to proclaim the Kingdom and have authority to cast out daemons.” The process is clear. Out of a larger number whom he summoned, a more intimate twelve were chosen. Of these Simon and Andrew, James and John, had already been close in his company; Levi, the son of Alphaeus, also, if Matthew is the same man as he. But there is no solid reason for supposing that Levi and Matthew are the same man. They were both tax-gatherers, it is true ; but Jesus had much dealing with tax-gatherers and sinners. And the fact that Mark records “the call” of Levi does not necessarily mean that Levi was afterwards appointed one of the Twelve.
[ p. 107 ]
The Call of the Twelve For the appointment of the Twelve seems to have been a solemn act Previous to this moment Jesus had had followers and disciples, but not apostles. By their appointment Simon and Andrew, James and John, entered into a new condition. They and the eight others now became delegates-elect of Jesus’ authority. Before this moment Jesus had not needed to delegate his authority, either to proclaim his Kingdom or to cast out daemons. He had been able to exercise it himself in person. But now the possibility was gone. Galilee was closed against him.
That the new apostles were twelve points likewise to a solemn act. They were twelve for the twelve tribes of Israel. Their function was to proclaim the Kingdom to the whole of Jewry. “You will not,” he was to say to them when he finally sent them out, “have covered the twelve tribes of Israel before the Son of Man be come.” The Son of Man was not Jesus himself ; he was the superhuman and mysterious Judge who should establish the Kingdom of God, of which Jesus knew alike the imminence and the secret.
The time for the going forth of the Twelve was not yet. They knew the imminence of the Kingdom [ p. 108 ] of God, but they did not know the secret of it. But Jesus would teach them. The secret of the Kingdom was more important to his message than the coming of it : for the secret was wholly his own. John had known of the coming; but Jesus had discovered the secret.
The disciples and the Twelve are henceforward distinct. But not because the secret was imparted to the Twelve alone. The secret was imparted to all—to the crowds when Jesus had the chance of speaking to them, to the disciples who followed him to the mountain, and to the chosen Twelve among them. The Twelve were distinct solely because they were constantly “to be with him” and were to be sent forth clothed with his authority. But there were many disciples beside. Mark speaks of “those about him, together with the Twelve.” There were disciples and there were apostles in the mountain with him, but both were disciples. Both shared the secret of the Kingdom, if they had ears to hear it.
Of all the Twelve, Simon and James and John were nearest to him. Among the Twelve they were the chief, and their intimacy with Jesus, and what kind of intimacy it was, is revealed by the [ p. 109 ] names he gave them. The giving of these names—nicknames, in truth—was not a solemn act The names themselves are not solemn. Quite obviously, in the case of James and John, “the Sons of Thunder,” the name was the creation of a smiling affection. They were to Jesus lovable and slightly absurd, and the more dear for their tinge of absurdity. The precious glimpse of them vouchsafed by Luke’s Gospel affords the perfect explanation of the meaning of their name. They would have loved nothing more dearly than to be permitted to call down fire and brimstone on the Samaritan village that refused a lodging to their master. They thought of him as the great King, of themselves as his stern viceroys, dealing doom to those who would not obey. It was very hard for them to understand the secret of the Kingdom, and to the end they could not.
Simon was called Peter, “the Rock.” So much has been built upon that rock that it may seem subversive to suggest that Simon’s name, “the Rock,” was also given with a smile, and that it meant Simon the Wobbler. However, we believe that it was so given, and did mean this. Something is known of Simon’s character, not merely from the [ p. 110 ] record of the Gospels, but from St. Paul’s epistle to the Galatians also. He among all the twelve apostles shows most real across the backward and abysm of time ; he alone is truly human to us and not merely the shadow of a name like Andrew, or the creature of imagination, like the beloved disciple of the fourth Gospel. And if, as we are persuaded, the Gospel of Mark is substantially the reminiscences of Simon in his old age, we know, in truth, a great deal about him. But for Simon himself nothing need ever have been known of his threefold denial of his Master; that he should have told the story speaks eloquently for the inward nobility of the man. He was weak and he was strong. In him, indeed, the spirit was eager and the flesh was weak. He alone of the Twelve had moments of the inward vision of what his Master was. He verily saw things that flesh and blood did not reveal to him : he had spiritual insight.
His recognition of Jesus as Messiah, in the extreme of his earthly defeat, was an act of creative vision ; so in the later days was his acceptance of the gentile Cornelius into the early Church. But Simon’s courage was not wholly equal to his vision. After the former act he shrank from the thought [ p. 111 ] of a suffering Messiah and incurred the fierce rebuke of Jesus for “thinking like a man and not like God”; after the latter, under the influence of fanatical James, he withdrew from the new ground he had boldly taken., Bold advance and fearful withdrawal was the way with Simon. He alone followed the captive Jesus into the high-priest’s courtyard: but there his courage failed. Great old, poor old Simon!
Yet chiefly great, and wholly lovable. This was a real and living man ; and we do not wonder, as we come to realize him, that he was the first and nearest of Jesus’ chosen men. He understood more of Jesus than the others ; and he loved him more. If, as we believe, Mark’s Gospel is substantially of Simon’s telling, he alone has preserved the secret of the Kingdom; nothing touches it so nearly as the fourth chapter of Mark. But for that chapter the very essence of Jesus’ teaching might have been lost It was Simon, too, who first of the apostles saw the risen Jesus ; and it is the first vision that matters. When one has seen, it is easy for others to see. But to be the first to see is to have plucked unaided, by the sheer force of a passionate love, victory from defeat
[ p. 112 ]
Jesus ~ Man of Genius But Simon was not firm as a rock; his greatness was of another kind. He saw greatly, loved greatly, but he could not maintain himself on the height. He was called Simon the Rock in loving irony. Jesus knew his man, and knowing him chose him for his nearest Simon the Wobbler but only Simon could touch the height from which he fell, and to which he struggled back again. When Jesus called Simon the Rock there was no bitterness in his irony: when Paul spoke of “the pillar of the church,” there was. Paul was a great man ; Simon had only his moments of greatness : but the greatness of Simon in his great moments was nearer to the greatness of Jesus than Paul’s ever was.