Denial (Good Friday)
Denial by Rev. L. John Gable
April 15, 2022 (Good Friday)
There are many stories in Scripture in which we can identify with the characters involved, perhaps particularly so in the passage we’ve read this evening telling of Peter’s denial of Jesus. It is a heart-rending story, to be sure.
We know Peter. One of the first disciples chosen; a fisherman who dropped his nets immediately when he heard Jesus’ invitation “Come, follow Me”; one of the inner circle of disciples along with James and John; there for all of the most memorable events from his daring walk out on the water to his encounter with Jesus, Moses and Elijah on the Mount of Transfiguration to his most famous proclamation, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” Peter was there for all of it, up close and personal.
So, close was Peter to Jesus that he was nicknamed “the Rock”, petros, on whom the Church would be built; not him personally, of course, but on his radical confession of faith. In essence Jesus said to him, “I’m going to build my Church on the likes of you and nothing will prevail against it!”
All to say, Peter, with all of his boasting and blather, was the last one we would have expected to be put in the position we find him in this night.
Earlier that evening, after the twelve had enjoyed a wonderful, intimate meal together, Jesus told him, “before the cock crows you will have denied Me three times” and we have every good reason to believe Peter when he says, “Lord, there is no way! I will lay down my life for you!” And he meant it. And we believe him.
But then comes the betrayal, and the arrest in the garden, and Peter’s failed attempt at defending Jesus by drawing his sword and cutting off the right ear of the high priest’s slave, a young man named Malchus, and his watching helplessly as the soldiers bind Jesus and lead Him away to be tried by Annus, the father-in-law of the high priest, Caiaphas.
It comes as no surprise that Peter followed, as did another of the disciples. Perhaps more surprising still is that all 11 of them didn’t follow at a distance, just to see what was going to happen to the One they called “Lord.” And if it wasn’t curiosity that would have motivated them, surely they must have wondered if perhaps they might have been able to save the One who had promised to save them. At least I’d like to think this was Peter’s motive. Did he have a plan in place as to how he was going to do that? Knowing Peter, likely not, but surely he’d figure something out. Remember, he was Peter, the Rock.
So we find him standing at the gate outside the courtyard of the high priest. Apparently the other disciple who was with him was known to the high priest so talked his way past the guard and brought Peter along with him, and that’s where he was called out for the first time. The woman guarding the gate said, “You are not also one of this man’s disciples, are you?” And there, in response to one who mostly likely had no more authority than the greeter at Walmart, he took the risk and answered, “No, I am not!” and she let him pass. So far, so good.
It was cool that evening and the others in the courtyard had made a charcoal fire to keep warm, so Peter moved in among them, as if to hide in plain sight, but again he was identified, this time by another unnamed one. In the background they could hear Annus questioning Jesus, so when asked a second time, “You are not one of His disciples, are you?” he brushed it aside, saying, “I am not.” These are not bold denials, but simple evasions, little white lies, if you will, to protect his cover.
But then one of the relatives of the slave of the high priest whose ear he had cut off, looked at him and said, “Didn’t I see you in the garden with Him?” and when Peter denied knowing Jesus the third time the cock crowed. Perhaps others didn’t notice it, but most assuredly he did.
Put yourself in the place of Peter for a moment. Admit that you know Him to a guard, a stranger, a relative and suffer the same fate as the One you had come to rescue. To what end? Wouldn’t it be better to sluff off the question, deny that you know Him or have anything to do with Him, so that maybe you can figure a way out of this predicament for Him and for you? Why die on this hill when perhaps you can live to fight another day?
Shusaku Endo wrote a book in 1966 titled Silence which has haunted me ever since I read it in college. Set in the 17th century Japan, it is the story of two Jesuit missionaries who endured torture and persecution for their refusal to renounce their faith. In numerous ways they faced the same dilemma Peter faced long ago, as do many of our sisters and brothers in the faith still today in places of opposition and persecution. When questioned, dare to name the name of Jesus and suffer, perhaps even die, or deny knowing Him and afford yourself another day to live and witness? Of course, we have the benefit of wrestling with that dilemma in the abstract, many still today do not. What is the cost of discipleship? What is the cost of confessing Jesus as Lord? Perhaps a question we have chanced to wonder for ourselves, but what about the inverted question, what is the cost of denial?
As we read this Gospel lesson we typically consider the hurt caused to the One who was denied (Jesus), but what about the hurt felt by the denier (Peter, any one of the 11, any one of us?)
Certainly not to the extent of so many others who face the threat of imprisonment, persecution, even death for confessing the name of Jesus, so we must be very careful of ever saying we are “persecuted” for our faith…inconvenienced, perhaps, slightly offended, maybe, but “persecuted”? No! Still we face the same very real temptations of denial when we want to be one of the gang, accepted by family or friends or colleagues. We don’t want to be seen as prudish, pious or “holier than Thou”, when we hear an off-color joke or a racist comment so we hold our tongues. We don’t want to be perceived as being fanatical or pushy or even too religious when we are asked to participate in activities which we know are unbecoming of a follower of Jesus so we go along to get along. Is it persecution we face? No, but it is admittedly awkward, so we do as Peter did, figuring it is better not to out ourselves too early or too strongly, better to keep our mouths shut and not make waves, figuring we’ll have another day and another way to speak our truth and share our faith.
I can’t help but wonder how that feels to Him (the One being denied) and neither can I assume, but I know how it feels to me (the one who does the denying). It makes me feel weak, feeble, duplicitous, dishonest, as if I have done something which goes against not only my profession of faith but also against my core values as a follower of Jesus.
I like to think of myself as one who is faithful, so I feel as though I have denied, not only Him, but something in myself when I am unfaithful.
I think of myself as being truthful, a truth-teller, but then deny something in myself when I fail to speak the truth I profess to believe.
I think of myself as being just, as one committed to standing on the side of equality and fairness, but then deny something in myself when I assume a position of privilege or fail to stand up for the rights of others who are less fortunate or privileged than I.
I like to think of myself as being loving and kind, but then deny something deep within myself when I speak, or even think, in an unloving or unkind way about another.
I like to think of myself as being strong and resolute, but then deny something within myself when I am timid or weak or easily influenced by temptation or opposition.
I can hear myself saying, “Not me, Lord. I will never deny You” but then having to face something deep within myself when I deny Him in thought, word or action.
So who is harmed when I deny Him in this way? Jesus, yes; so I live with the assurance that He will forgive me for the hurt I have caused Him. But, I am not always quite so confident that I can forgive myself for the harm and disappointment I have caused myself.
This is not just Peter’s story. This is our story, my story. I sympathize with Peter because I too readily see myself in him.
As we sing this beautiful spiritual “Were You there?” I invite and encourage you to reflect deeply on the question being asked of us: “Were you there?” “Were we there?” Yes, we were. Yes, we are, in both our profession and in our denial of the One we call Lord.
Lord, have mercy upon us.
Rev. L. John Gable
Tabernacle Presbyterian Church
Indianapolis, IN