First Presbyterian Church

First Presbyterian Church

Rev. Sam Pendergrast

March 16, 2008 – Palm Sunday

Matthew 26:69-75

 

 

“With Jesus?”

 

There's an old saying, “When the going gets tough, the tough get going.” The saying has been modified to suit more modern sentiments. “When the going gets tough, the tough go shopping.” Snoopy probably would have said, “When the going gets tough, the tough get chocolate chip cookies.”

 

Charlie Brown's dog was probably more realistic than most of us. Most of us would like to think we are tough and that we would hang in there when the going got tough. Peter thought he was tough. “Even though all the rest of these losers fall away, I will never desert you. Even though I have to die with you, I won't deny you.” And all the other disciples said the same thing. That was their response to Jesus' prediction: “You will all become deserters.”

 

“Not me! Nope, not me! Me neither!”

 

It wasn't just Peter. All of them turned tail and ran. Peter is the most famous deserter because his story is the one that was told. I hope you don't think that Peter was the only disciple weeping bitterly that morning. Who among us likes to face our own weakness and failure? We would much rather think that when the chips are down we will be tough. We would much rather believe that we would sacrifice ourselves if it came down to it. I don't mind admitting the hero fantasies in my own head in which I'm just a tough and cool as that anti-terrorist guy on the TV show, “24.” Sure, Sam.... I'd probably be hiding under my desk.

 

How hard it is for any of us to give up our self-image in which we are competent, brave, even close to perfect. How hard it is for us to admit that we fail to live up to even our most modest intentions. How hard it is for us to admit that we need grace. The honest confession of our own frailty is a frightening prospect.

 

By the time Jesus is hung on the cross, they have all dropped away except a few women watching from a distance. They have all deserted, just as Jesus said, even Peter, the Rock. They are not with him in the Garden. They are not with him when he goes to trial. They are not with him in the courtyard. And they are certainly not with him when he is on the cross. But he is still with them. He is still with us. The terrible irony of the disciples' betrayal of Jesus is that when they desert him, he does not desert them. When we turn our backs on our Lord, he does not turn his back on us. When we rebel, when we sin, he bears our sin in his body on the cross, that we might be dead to sin and alive to all that is good. God can take even our worst failure and bring new life.

 

It started in the Garden. Jesus took the disciples with him to Gethsemane. He asked them to sit and watch while he prayed. They fell asleep. They were not with him. They were with each other. But they were not with him.

 

At the Abbey of Gethsemani near Bardstown, there is a Garden. In the garden are two statues. One statue is a cluster of figures. A group of men is sitting and lying on the ground. They are asleep. As you look at the statue, you might see a beautiful picture of fellowship and support. These men are huddled together for warmth. They support and comfort one another in their closeness. They might represent a trusting and supportive congregation. But they are asleep. As you look beyond that statue, you will see another statue that changes your impression of the first one. About forty feet away is a statue of Jesus. He is on his knees. His outstretched arms are pleading. Agony is on his face. The disciples may be a warm and supportive fellowship, but they are not with Jesus. He is alone. He has already been deserted.

 

It was bad enough that he fell asleep in the garden. But Peter could excuse himself for that. It had been a tiring week. In the high priest's courtyard, Peter stayed awake. He may have wished he were still asleep. He didn't even have the courage to admit to a slave girl that he was with Jesus, or even that he knew Jesus. Not only did he deny that he knew Jesus; he cursed him. Remember that Peter was a fisherman. I imagine what he said was not gentle.

 

A former inmate told a story about hearing a sermon in prison that changed his life. It was a sermon on Peter's denial of Jesus. The prisoner heard something in that sermon that touched him where he lived, that told him Jesus was with him in a way that he had never thought about before. This man had never known his father. He had grown up hearing people talk about him in demeaning ways. He had heard people feel sorry for his mother. He had heard them call him “that little bastard.” He was so full of rage that he had ended up in prison for a variety of crimes. In the sermon he heard the preacher imagining the talk that circulated around Galilee about Jesus, the boy whom Joseph had adopted to cover for Mary's mistake. You can imagine the rumors, said the preacher. The talk would have followed him even when he became a famous teacher and healer. The talk would have followed him to Jerusalem. And there beside the fire, when cornered by a slave girl and asked by the rest of the bystanders, “Certainly you're one of them.” Peter cursed. In the imagination of that prison preacher, Peter said, “You mean Jesus the bastard? I don't know the SOB.” When Matthew tells us that Peter cursed, he most likely means that Peter invoked God's curse upon Jesus. No wonder he wept. It's a wonder that Peter could ever stop crying. What that prisoner heard in the sermon that day was good news. Jesus was with him. Jesus identified with him. Jesus shared his shame. Jesus shared his burden. The good news he heard that day began to change his life.

 

Have you ever been cornered by someone who asked you about your Christian faith? Have you ever been challenged to say whether or not you are with Jesus? We've all been there. And we've all failed more often than we've been the tough who got going. The good news of this story is that the same Peter who cursed Jesus and denied that he ever knew him is the same Peter to whom Jesus said, “Feed my sheep.” He is the same Peter who preached on the day of Pentecost when three thousand people confessed faith in Jesus. He is the same Peter whose eyes were opened and who began to understand that Gentiles, too, were included in the covenant. He is the same Peter who, legend has it, was crucified upside down because he would not deny his faith.

 

William Willimon tells the story of a student who came to him when Willimon was Dean of the Chapel at Duke University. The student was complaining that he and his roommate were not getting along.

 

“Why is that?”

 

“Because he's Muslim and I'm not.”

 

“How does that make a difference?”

 

“When we moved into the room, he asked me what my religion was. I told him that I was a Christian – a Lutheran. I told him that my family wasn't the very best of Christians and that we only went to church occasionally and that it wasn't a big deal to me. My roommate has this nasty habit of asking embarrassing questions.”

 

“What sort of questions?”

 

“Well, after we had roomed together a few weeks, he asked me, 'Why do you Christians never pray?' I told him we pray a lot. We just sort of keep it to ourselves. He said, 'I'll say that you do. I've never seen you pray.' He prays like half a dozen times a day on his prayer rug facing East. When I came in last Saturday morning he asked me, 'Doesn't your Saint Paul say something about not joining your body with that of a prostitute?' I told him, 'Look, she is not a prostitute; she's a Tri Delta. I told you that I'm not the best Christian in the world. You shouldn't judge the Christian faith by me!'”

 

Willimon reflected on the young man’s torment and said, “Well, how should he judge the Christian faith? I think I need to write your Muslim roommate a thank-you note. If he keeps working on you with these questions, he may just make you into a real Christian!”

 

Peter failed. This young student failed. You fail. I fail. The good news is that Jesus is with us in our failures even when we are not with him. It is no shame to fail. The bad news is not in failure but in giving up. Failure is painful, embarrassing, human, and it is a way to learn and grow. Peter may never have been who he was as the leader of the disciples without having gone through this soul-wrenching experience of denying Jesus. An angry prisoner may never have heard the good news in a way he could identify with. As the author of the letter to the Hebrews reminds us, Jesus had to be made like his brothers and sisters in every respect, even to the depths of human despair and being abandoned by everyone who had ever loved him. And out of that experience, God brings new life.

 

You and I will fail some tests along the way. The good news is that Jesus never fails us. And because of that, we can get up again. Even when we are not with Jesus, Jesus is with us. In the darkness of Holy Week, in the confusion of our lives, God gives us hope.