Homily

On the night when Jesus was arrested to be delivered to death, all of his disciples ran away in fear of being arrested with Him. There are two apostles who stand out in the Gospels at this point in time. One is Peter, who, curious and worried, stood outside the High Priest's house while Jesus was being questioned. Two times people ask him if he is one of Jesus' disciples and Peter denies it. When he is asked a third time if he is a follower of Jesus, he answers, "I do not even know the man!" After three years of travelling with Jesus, seeing all the miracles He worked, hearing Him preach and teach, being in the constant presence of a man who never sinned, a man who totally accepted him and loved him more deeply than his parents, wife or children could ever love him, in his fear Peter answers, "I do not even know the man!" Jesus had said before, "If anyone wishes to follow me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross and follow me." Instead, Peter denies his Lord, refuses the cross and abandons his Master.

Peter followed Jesus only as far as the High Priest's house, but he would go no further. He could not turn himself over to those who had arrested his Master; he could not stand with Jesus even after all he had seen and heard. He denied the one Who loved him best. And after this betrayal, he cried bitter tears not so much for Jesus, but for himself. He had thought he was a different kind of man: a man of honor, integrity, loyal and devoted. He had thought he was brave, courageous, and fully committed. Just hours before this he had told Jesus that even if everyone else denied Him, he would never deny Him. Now, here he is, standing among strangers saying, "I do not even know the man!" And suddenly he sees the truth about himself. No more delusions, no more self-deception, no more false ideas about who he was. He is stuck with the bitter truth, there in the courtyard. He sees who he truly is and how he has abandoned his Lord and he can only cry the saddest of tears when he realizes what and Who he has given up.

Peter is a great icon for Lent because I too am a follower of Jesus, not just for three years, but for my whole life—except when something else seemed better to me; except when I was afraid; except when I was tired, discouraged or angry, or when others treated me badly, or when I wanted to pay them back for what they had done to me. I have followed Christ all my life except for when I wanted to fit in with other people, or when it was inconvenient or difficult, or when I didn't feel like talking to Him, or when I chose self-pleasure over self-denial. I have followed Jesus all my life except when I have excused my own sins even as I dwelt on the sins of others, except when I have given in the hope of being rewarded or repaid, or when I have lived as though this earthly life is the only life I will ever have. It is true that I have never directly denied to anyone that I am a follower of Jesus. But it is also true that I have lived and acted, many times, as if I do not even know the man.

St. Peter in denial is an icon for Lent. We don't deny Jesus because we are afraid for our lives, because we will be arrested and killed. We deny Him for much smaller concerns, more selfish reasons, even just for the sake of temporary comfort and convenience. And perhaps, worst of all is when we are indifferent to Him because life is busy. Man does not live on bread alone; he also needs batteries and Wi-Fi access. We might find time for Jesus, but we'll have to see how the day goes first. Perhaps we can fit Him in. It would be so very good if I could find authentic tears to cover the sorrow of the many times I have not lived as a disciple of Jesus — tears that could imitate the ones Peter cried after he heard the cock crow for the third time. No tears for their own sake, but to soften my heart which I have hardened in my fear, and to push me back onto the path that leads to life. Tears that would show me Christ is not a commodity to try and fit into my daily schedule. Tears that would turn me back to a greater love and trust in Jesus. Tears that would make me more convinced that there is no truer life than putting mine into His hands. Tears that would remind me of what little I have, if I do not have Him.

St. John Chrysostom wrote, "Jesus is not yet on the judgment bench. He is on the mercy seat as long as we are living." At the mercy seat, that's where we will find him. He is most compassionate and always ready to pardon anyone who may have in any way denied Him. All we need to do is ask.