If Only . . .

St. Paul’s United Methodist Church
Mark 14: 66-72 Rev. Marianne Niesen March 22, 2009

 

I grew up in a church that taught that Peter was the best. He was the one Jesus called the ‘rock.’ You didn’t need to be theologically astute to know that calling Peter a ‘rock’ was meant to be a compliment. He was the strong one, the enduring one, the ‘chairman of the disciple board,’ the head of the apostles and, for Catholics, the first pope. Just as Abram had received a new name, becoming Abraham - and thus the leader of the chosen people as they traveled to the promised land, so did Simon receive a new name, becoming Petros - the Rock the leader of the new chosen people. Peter was a star in my child’s mind. He was big stuff. Of course, during Holy Week, one could hardly avoid a reflection of some kind on Peter’s denial of Jesus - I do not know the man! Never met him! IT WASN’T ME! That three-fold denial made for good drama but it didn’t last long . . . soon Peter was back on the pedestal. The Rock. The leader of the early church. The one who debated great things with Paul. The one who was killed in Rome and was buried there and who now has a basilica (which is - remember from last week - a really big church) built over his tomb. Peter. The Rock.

Given all that, if anyone should have been there, accompanying Jesus to the end, it should have been him. From what we know, Peter was not just a follower of Jesus, he was a friend. Tradition has it that Jesus actually made his home with Peter and Peter’s family after Jesus left his own home in Nazareth and began his ministry around the Sea of Galilee. In the excavated city of Capernaum on the lake, there are ruins of a house known as the ‘house of Peter’ and as you stand there, it is easy to imagine Jesus and Peter having good ‘after-hours’ discussions. The tradition is that Jesus was involved with Peter’s family, knew his wife, played with his kids, healed his mother-in-law. The tradition about the house of Peter in Capernaum is an old one and, built over the excavations is a chapel with a glass floor so you can look down on the rooms of the house. In any case, Jesus knew Peter for almost all of his ministry. Peter was one of the disciples Jesus took to the mountain where Peter was granted a vision of Jesus as a prophet, dazzling white. At one point, Peter even asked Jesus to give him top billing in the next life - a seat by his side in eternity. Jesus reprimanded him for that but still, there was a camaraderie between them. Jesus did not just call Peter ‘disciple,’ he called him ‘friend.’ Peter should have been there.

But - he was not. I do not know the man! Never met him! IT WASN’T ME! That three-fold denial was much more than the denial of a rabbi or teacher or mentor. It was the denial of a friend. It was the denial of someone who had never denied him. That’s what makes it so achingly poignant. The Rock was not so strong after all. If only he’d remembered the days by the lake. If only he’d remembered the time on the mountain. If only he’d remembered - and lived up to - his name. But, in that moment, fear had its way with him and he melted. And as much as I appreciate my childhood images of Peter the Rock and Peter the Pope and Peter the Leader, I believe that Peter-the-frightened, indeed, Peter-the-failure is equally accurate - and compelling for our reflection today.

Along Main Street in Longmont, Colorado, you’ll find a plaque marking the spot where a meat market gone bankrupt once stood. Why mark such a spot? It was the J.C. Penney Meat Market and it did indeed fail - which prompted Mr. Penney to move north where he opened a dry goods store in Wyoming. And that endeavor did not fail. Mr. J.C. Penney figured out how to rise above a failure and so we shop at Penney’s today. In the 18th century, a man named John Wesley traveled to Savannah, Georgia with visions of a transforming ministry for the people who lived there. The kindest thing one can say about that attempt is that it didn’t work out the way he’d hoped. He finally left Georgia, stealing away on a ship under cover of darkness, devastated by his failure. He was only in his 30's. Although ready to give up preaching entirely, he listened - to his God, his friends, and mentors and went on to lead a movement that transformed Christianity in England. Eventually, the movement called ‘Methodism’ traveled to America once again and this time ignited a faith that changed lives. The issue you see, is not failure - we are human after all, and we will fail. Even Rocks give way at times. The trick is knowing that failure need not be fatal. Failure is not the end - but it is a pause, a turning point, a deciding moment. What we do with such moments makes all the difference.

After Peter’s denial, it did not take him long to realize what he had done. As soon as he heard the rooster crow a second time, he remembered Jesus’ words at dinner - and wept. We know such times. If only I’d been stronger. If only I hadn’t said that. If only I’d been there. If only I could have . . . If only . . . That was Peter. If-only-ing himself in tears. We do make mistakes. We disappoint ourselves. We disappoint others. We fall short. We have the best of intentions and don’t fulfill them. And sometimes - though not always - it really is our fault. Peter could have done better. His tears were his acknowledgment of that. That was his contrition, his apology. What are those things for which we need to weep, to apologize? The thing, the event, the course of action that truly could have been different ‘if only’ we’d done better? There are times when you and I simply need to be sorry. To weep. To pause and take a new direction.

Lent is a good time for such reflection. Lent has gotten a bad name for some of us because it reminds us of excruciatingly long church services, being told to ‘give up’ things without really knowing why, depressing music, and sermons about suffering - to name just a few. Last week, I talked with a Catholic woman who said she remembered going to Good Friday services that lasted three hours - with two hours of that ‘on our knees.’ It was awful, she said. The danger, however, as we discard some of those practices is that we can ‘throw the proverbial baby out with the bath water.’ Lent is a time to look at those things in our own lives over which we weep, the places we’ve fallen short, our failures - yes, our sins - and to realize that in the eyes of God - in the love of Christ - we are not judged by or defined by these failures. I’ll bet Peter himself, in early Christian gatherings, re-told the story of his failure that night not because he was proud of it but because he knew that even then, even at his lowest moment, Jesus still claimed him as friend. That knowledge transformed him. He wanted people to know that the same is true for us all. Remember those moments, admit them, own them - and know that nothing will ever separate you from the love of God in Christ Jesus.

And that is the exceedingly wonderful part of this story . . . as Peter wept, as he recognized his sin, his weakness, the drama of the last moments of Jesus life continued to unfold. He was condemned to death, he was crucified - as witnessed (according to Mark) by the women, including Mary Magdalene, Mary, the mother of James, and Salome. His body was received by Joseph of Arimathea and placed in a tomb. When those same women went to anoint the body and found the tomb empty, they were told by angels to go and tell Peter and the others that Jesus would ‘go ahead’ of them to Galilee. Did you hear it? The women were entrusted with an amazing message to share with none other than . . . Peter! The Rock. Jesus continued to count on Peter. Peter had denied, he had wept, he had run away - but he too rose again, called to be the Rock Jesus knew he could be.

And therein lies our hope - and our challenge. I’d like to believe if I’d been there that I’d have followed Jesus all the way. But frankly, I’m not at all sure. I can tend to play things safe. Our fears can so easily get the best of us. Our vision can get clouded. Our good intentions can get buried under so many things. That’s why I take heart in Peter’s story. I think his greatest moment was that moment when he heard the cock crow for the second time and knew for sure that he wasn’t as strong as he thought he was. Maybe it was at that moment that he knew he couldn’t be Peter-the-Rock without the power of Jesus working in him. Without God’s grace. He came face to face with his weakness and the source of his strength. For you see, God can transform even the most fearful of us into faithful disciples. That’s good news.

Several years ago, I came across a wonderful illustration of God’s power to transform. I found a version of it on the web which I’ve altered and added to a bit. Let’s remember - as we ponder our if-only’s, as we consider our failures, as we face our limitations, as we confront our fears - that . . . even Moses stuttered, was reluctant - and had a bad sense of direction; David’s armor didn’t fit; the prophet Jonah was self-righteous, irritating and a pouter; the patriarch Jacob was a liar; David, once King, had an affair; King Solomon had too much money; Abraham was too old, and so was Elizabeth, and so was Sarah and then she laughed. Timothy had ulcers; Joseph was a nuisance - there was a reason his brothers threw him in a pit; Peter was a coward; Lazarus was dead; Naomi was a widow, and so was Ruth; Hannah was barren; Miriam was a gossip; Thomas doubted - big time; Jeremiah was too young; Zechariah was too skeptical; Elijah suffered from depression; Paul was arrogant; John the Baptist dressed funny; Matthew was a tax collector (and you know how they are); Martha was a worrywart; Samson needed a haircut; Noah had a drinking problem; Zacchaeus was very short - and a thief.; and, back to David - he was only a teenager and so was Mary, the mother of Jesus and so was the prophet Daniel. We have a God who does great things in, through, and in spite of such characters.

God works with ordinary people. In fact, that is the only kind there are. When Peter denied his friend, he came face to face with his own humanness, his own ordinariness. If only he’d done better . . . yes. But we have a God who can transform our ‘if onlys’ if only we allow it. It is true that as we confront our weakness, we really do become strong. In 2 Corinthians, Paul wrote that three times (interesting number) he appealed to the Lord to be spared his particular weakness. We don’t know exactly what that was. We do know that Jesus told him ‘my grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.’ So, Paul decided, I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me . . . for whenever I am weak, then I am strong.

And so it was for Peter and so it will be for us as well.