It is Act 1 of the drama that will unfold over the next 60 hours. The man who for the last three years walked around teaching, among other things, that he was the Son of Man, Son of God, the promised Messiah, the Christ, the Anointed One, was now under arrest.
This arrest says everything about those who take him away. They slink in under the cover of darkness. The carefully selected opportunity is a secluded garden well known by Jesus and his disciples. Like a specials ops team appearing out of nowhere, the mob, armed with torches and swords, is suddenly there, surrounding the target. If one didn’t know better, one might think they were hunting down Frankenstein’s monster, not the one who healed the sick, made the lame walk, raised the dead, and gave sight to the blind. It was, in every sense, a well-orchestrated, inside job. And before it was over, lives would be irrevocably changed.
In discovering one of the major subplots of this night, we must first return to a post-meal conversation between Jesus and Peter. The Bible often refers to John as the disciple whom Jesus loved. I think Peter should be known as the disciple who routinely stuck his foot in his mouth. He was a brash, act now…think later, kind of guy. I can totally relate. That conversation went like this – Jesus: “You will all fall away this night.” Peter: “Though all these others fall away, I will never fall away.” Jesus: “Tonight, before the rooster crows, you will deny me three times.” Peter: “Even if I must die with you, I will not deny you.”
Well, Jesus is led away to see Caiaphas, the high priest. In a predictable move, the officials have lined up some “witnesses” who verify that Jesus had said some unscrupulous things. Of course, we know that he didn’t, but it’s the Pharisees, so why would we expect anything less than lies? But as all this goes down, Peter is within earshot, and people are starting to take an interest in this bystander. The first is a servant girl, “You were with the Galilean”. “No”, Peter replies. He then moves over to where someone had started a charcoal fire to warm themselves. While standing near the fire, others took note of his face, and asked him, “You are one of his disciples, aren’t you?” Peter again denies the allegation. Then one of the servants of the high priest recognized him, “Did I not see you in the garden with him?” A third time Peter denies the accusation.
A rooster crows…
Luke tells us in that exact moment, Jesus turns and locks eyes with Peter…and the disciple, who routinely stuck his foot in his mouth, runs out and weeps…bitterly. Alone.
The next time we see Peter, he is running again. This time he is running towards something, not away. And this time he has a running partner. John. They arrive at Jesus’ burial tomb. John, arriving first, peers in from the outside. Peter, the brash, over the top, leap before you look disciple, goes full investigative mode and walks into the empty tomb. There are the burial clothes, nicely folded, as if Alice from the Brady Bunch had tidied up the place. But there is something missing. Rather, there is someone missing…Jesus. Right about now, you would expect something dramatic to happen. And you would be disappointed. For they simply go home.
In the early hours of the next day, long before the sun broke the horizon, Peter decides he is going fishing. I don’t know why in this moment he chooses to return to his prior occupation. Maybe it is the familiarity of it. Maybe he needs to re-center himself. Maybe, instead of sitting around having to deal with his emotions, he just needs to do something manly. That seems the logical thing. After all, he is a dude, and dudes don’t often deal with their emotions and feelings in the best way. Several of the other disciples decide not to deal with their emotions either, and go with him. Just as you might expect, they catch nothing. I mean, why would they? Nothing is going their way this weekend. Their friend is dead; his body is missing; they all said they would never abandon him, and yet that is exactly what they did. And now, to make matters worse, some stranger has shown up on the shore, acting like a game and parks employee ready to pounce if they exceeded their daily catch limit, is asking how many fish they caught. Dejected, they have to admit they have none. “Cast your net on the right side of the boat”, says the stranger. The irritation had to have palpable. “Really? This guy is going to just show up and know where the fish are?” But next thing you know, the nets are bulging, and the disciples can’t bring in the haul. John is the first one who realizes that the stranger is no park ranger…it is the Lord. Peter, hearing the news, does what Peter always does. Act now, think later. He plunges in and, I have to believe, was once again in running mode. Have you ever tried running in water? It’s tough, and slow. But no matter…Peter is running to his Lord.
He gets to the shore, soaking wet, and there is a charcoal fire. Peter stands next to it, warming himself up. I wonder if Peter’s mind went back three nights to when he stood at that fire outside the court of the high priest. That night where he would do what he considered unthinkable…deny knowing his Lord. No matter. He was here. Jesus was alive.
One could not write this story any better. John uses the same Greek word, anthrakia, to describe both charcoal fires. It is the only two instances of this word in his gospel. It is almost as if he is tying the two events together. The first fire resulted in the rejection of Jesus by Peter. The second fire resulted in the redemption of Peter by Jesus. The first fire was fueled by regret. The second was fueled by restoration.
Peter, the disciple who routinely stuck his foot in his mouth (sorry, I could not resist one last time), would later write in his own letter, of a faith tested by fire. I don’t know about you, but I think he might have known a little something about this.
