Luke Knight

The Gospel of Luke 22.54-65
Watch or listen to this sermon here.

We’re arriving at the dramatic conclusion of the Gospel of Luke, including the crescendo of Jesus’ death and resurrection. Jesus is the central figure in the narrative, though all kinds of other characters surround him. Chief among those characters are Jesus’ own twelve disciples, who often look less like his pupils than we might hope. 

Jesus’ disciples aren’t depicted as heroes at every turn in the gospels. When thinking about the historical trustworthiness of the gospels, it’s worth noting this strange dynamic. If the gospels are ancient biographies of Jesus written down by the earliest Christian communities, why aren’t the leaders of those  communities more concerned about their brand? Surely, if you wanted a new movement to thrive, you’d be worried about the reputation of those in leadership, and aim to establish some credibility based on their character or competence. Unless of course the leaders of the early Jesus-movement were more concerned about telling the truth than polishing their own reputations. So the gospels don’t seem to be all that worried about maintaining a façade of greatness around Jesus’ inner circle, of making his disciples look good. In fact often they’re as problematic and flawed as Jesus’ outright opposition.

Over again the gospel writers separateJesus from everyone else. Only Jesus is holy and good. Only Jesus keeps on God’s bearing when all around him go off course. Only Jesus’ character and competency will make the difference. And in today’s reading we find a scene which puts no finer point on this. It’s clear whom the gospel writers are leading us to trust, and it’s not the disciples because they don’t look all that trustworthy. This includes a man in the middle of the scene we just read. Simon, whom Jesus nicknamed Peter, which translates as “rock” – an irony, in light of today’s episode, which shouldn’t be easily lost on us.

Jesus & Peter

In Luke’s gospel, Peter has been on the road with Jesus ever since chapter five when Jesus first stepped into Peter’s fishing boat on the sea of Galilee to teach. From that point on Peter was no longer a fisherman but, according to Jesus, a fisher of men, brought on the team to share the good news of God’s inbreaking heavenly kingdom. Some describe Peter as the team captain of Jesus’ inner circle. Here, toward the end of Luke’s gospel, we hear Peter’s name mentioned explicitly just twice more. The first is in the story we just read, and the second is Peter’s rush to the empty tomb.

Consider the recent events in narrative, then, with Peter in mind. That same night around the Passover table Peter had pledged his loyalty to Jesus. Even when Jesus says that Peter will fail him Peter insists: “Lord, I am ready to go with you to prison and even to death.” Jesus then has to break the bad news that Peter will do the opposite, and disown him not once but three times. Thankfully, Jesus says that he’s prayed for Peter, and that even in Peter’s bitter failure all is not lost. Last week we read about Jesus’ betrayal and arrest on the Mount of Olives, including an attempt by his disciples to defend Jesus by force. Though Luke doesn’t identify which of Jesus’ disciples slashed off the high priest’s servant’s ear with a sword, The Gospel of John does mention that it was Peter. Jesus then rebukes his disciples for their violence in his name, and reverses the damage by reattaching the servant’s ear. So far as we’re told, this was Jesus’ final healing before his death. Even when his disciples are making a mess of things, Jesus is dealing out healing and life right to the end – he’s very much in control even when stepping into the chaos of darkness. No amount of human error will knock Jesus’ mission off course. I find that so encouraging, because this means “human error” doesn’t define us as human beings. The Lord defines us, delivers us and defends us. That’s part of what we heard last week. He really can handle it. Human error doesn’t stand a chance against Jesus. 

Denial and Abandonment

Now, as we’ve just read, Jesus has been led back to Jerusalem under arrest, and Peter has followed at distance, ending up in the courtyard of the house of the high priest where Jesus is being interrogated by the temple leadership. Peter doesn’t simply sick his head into the courtyard for a moment or two, he’s there for some time (at least over an hour), sitting down around a fire with others – it’s a risky move. Then, Peter is identified as one of Jesus’ followers by three different people. They stare at him through the half-light and put the pieces together. Peter’s recognized as one of the men who was with Jesus in the garden during the arrest, maybe as being with Jesus in public routinely; he’s a Galilean like Jesus, maybe the accent or attire gives him away. The point is that they see Peter for who he is – a committed disciple of Jesus, part of the inner circle of this dangerous new movement. If those around the fire identify Peter, what will they do with him?

Now, based on Peter’s pattern thus far, we might have expected him to spring into action to defend Jesus, maybe not in some kind of one man, James Bond rescue mission, but at least to make good on his promise of going with Jesus to prison or death. If anyone was going to follow Jesus to the bitter end, it would be Peter. Instead, it’s at this moment that the rock cracks under the pressure, and Peter denies any association with Jesus. The Gospel of Mark leads us to believe Peter even curses Jesus.

Some of us are very familiar with this episode, but imagine hearing it for the first time. It’s a sobering and surprising moment in the narrative. Luke even adds the detail that at the very moment of Peter’s third denial, as the rooster crows, Jesus turned and looked at Peter. Jesus, who knew Peter better than Peter knew himself, watches his team captain throw in the towel at the darkest moment. These scenes play very dramatically in Luke’s gospel: Peter denies Jesus as the rooster crows signaling a coming sunrise; Jesus looks at Peter from across the courtyard; Peter leaves the courtyard ashamed and weeps bitterly, no doubt in some shadowy corner of the city. And, with Peter’s clandestine overwatch abandoned, Jesus is left alone with his accusers. The guards begin mocking and beating Jesus, hurling all sorts of insults at him. Jesus has bested the higher-ups in the temple both privately and very publicly, and now it’s payback time. As he’s blindfolded, the temple guards taunt him saying, “Prophesy to us! Who hit you that time?”  Jesus alone will his way in the dark.

We can’t pretend to understand what made Peter crack in this moment. Did he finally see that they weren’t going to go down in a heroic blaze of glory, igniting a rebellion? Was he overcome by the terror of torture and death? Where before he thought they’d have a fighting chance in the garden, did the walls of the high priest’s courtyard begin to close in on him? We’re not told. But as the narrative builds toward Jesus’ death, two things can be said of Peter. First, Peter had been trying his best. And second, his best wasn’t good enough. And one thing can be said of Jesus at this point: he’s alone. No matter the promises of his disciples, Jesus alone will suffer injury, insult, and death.

Jesus is alone

Let’s start with Jesus, alone. Here Jesus stands alone in the pain of betrayal, abandonment and abuse. Though it’s grotesque to imagine, we need to look at Jesus’ experience from his betrayal all the way to his death – something Jesus’ willingly steps into. I grew up in a church that put on dramatic reenactments of these scenes, and they did a pretty good job. So good, in fact, that this whole narrative still makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. But rightly so, it’s horrible stuff. What Jesus’ experiences here, drinking this unimaginable cup of judgement in this unique moment in history, is something no one else has ever done.

But for many who’ve experienced betrayal, abandonment or abuse, knowing that Jesus has been in this position really does mean something to them. One of the messages we’re hearing in the scene today is that that Jesus moved into the pain and suffering of the world in which we live, and drank all of it in. So we’re not hearing about a person who can’t empathize or identify with us when we’ve been mistreated. Nor are we hearing about a person who simply sits and listens to our stories tragic and traumatic stories. We’re hearing about a person who decidedly went there for us. Friends, mentors, therapists, pastors, have limits to their ability to help us in our very particular experience of suffering. And we need people in our corner to listen, to help, to encourage, these people can be gifts to us. But, to put it very mildly, Jesus is more than our therapist or mentor or friend. According to the gospels Jesus is our Creator in the flesh, who has walked into the blackberry bushes of sin, suffering and death to find us, cover us, and cut a way out for us by his own body and blood.

So though we might feel for him in this moment, Jesus is no hapless victim, he decidedly moves into this space with purpose. In John’s gospel Jesus says that no one takes my life from me, but I freely give it, and I the power to take it up again. Our experiences of betrayal, abandonment or abuse were very likely things we’d rather have avoided, not steered into. Jesus’ choice to go to the places we know to be unimaginably painful gives us some sense of the magnitude of his love the world he’s made. On top of this, especially for those who have been victimized among us, an even more powerful revelation settles as we meditate on Jesus’ suffering, death and resurrection: not only has Jesus stood where we stand, but he has made and way out and has the power to shepherd us through suffering and death into life too. That’s the cross and the resurrection in a nutshell. 

Today, if you are sitting in the blackberry ticket of betrayal, abandonment or abuse, hear this clearly: Jesus has walked in to find you, to cover you, and walk you through it. His hands are gentle and his hands are strong. Jesus stood alone in his betrayal, abandonment and abuse, so that we don’t have to be alone in ours.

Peter was trying his best, and his best wasn’t good enough. 

Let’s turn again to Peter, and those two things we can say of him in this moment, that Peter is trying his best, but his best wasn’t good enough. There’s really no sugar-coating it. In this episode, we’re being shown the total failure of the best among Jesus’ disciples. Peter won’t save the day. Peter won’t make the difference at the very turning point of history. Peter has tried his best, and he falls on his face. This is one of those moments in the gospels when one character can in a way stand for all of us. So, if we don’t take Peter’s complete failure seriously here, we miss a crucial point of the gospel message.

I think most people, including many Christians, are probably trying their best. We’re trying to be good and to do the right thing in life. And if trying our best isn’t working, we assume the solution is to try a little harder, or to find a trick or tip to make life go a little smoother. But when working harder doesn’t work and the life hacks don’t turn things around, we end up in a kind of shame cycle. I should be better, life should be better, and if it’s not, I’m not working hard enough, or I haven’t found the right tip to help me. But what we learn by reading the gospels, which we generally would rather not admit, is that our best isn’t good enough and we usually have to learn this the hard way. Maybe there isn’t any other way, and we need to come to the end of ourselves to really see the truth. We can try and work harder or smarter, but the truth is that we can’t do it. For all our tricks and willpower, we can’t rescue ourselves. We can’t forgive ourselves enough for the shame to lift. We can’t solve the problem of our sin or the problem of evil in the world of which we’re all a part. We can’t take ourselves from the patterns of death to the pattern life. Collectively and individually, we have to accept that we’ve tried our best and we’ve come up short. This is what we glimpse in Peter’s failure around the fire. Accepting failure can feel very dark and we might even worry we’ll spiral into bitter despair. We’ve given it our best shot. Am I doomed? Is it hopeless? 

This is where we come back again to that one thing we can say about Jesus in this scene. Jesus is alone. Yes, Jesus is alone in the betrayal, abandonment and pain of that night and the next day as he faces his death. But because he was alone, because he alone invited the burden, took the beatings and the insults, picked up the cross, absorbed evil and death, we get life and freedom. 

So, don’t feel sorry for Jesus in this moment because he’s been left alone. Look at Jesus with confidence and thankfulness, because he went alone. Only Jesus could do it. Only the one who made us, could step into his busted and broken creation and remake it, from a depth of love beyond imagination. 

It’s no wonder that Peter races to Jesus’ empty tomb. He still wants to do his best, he’s still eager. But at the empty tomb Peter finds that sin and death have been emptied of their power. He finds his failure has been emptied of it’s power. Because Jesus alone did his best and his best finished the job. Jesus, alone. That’s the invitation today. Accepting that our best, all that hard work, leaves us wanting, we come up short. Only Jesus, only the one who made us, can re-make us. And because of this we don’t look to Peter or ourselves or anyone else for hope and life. We look at Jesus – alone.