Promise or denial? The Wednesday of Passion Week
WEDNESDAY OF THE WEEK CHRIST DIED: Peter’s perspective
Those few days from Sunday’s triumphal entry to Wednesday’s Passover dinner were unexpected and confusing. We felt the glares of the Pharisees, whose hatred of Jesus had increased dramatically. They were visibly plotting against Him, so James and I made sure we or another disciple was watching over Jesus’ safety at all times.
Jesus made a lot of seemingly random and un-kingly statements during those couple days, like “The man who loves his life will lose it, while the man who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life.” and “For I did not come into the world to judge the work, but to save it.”
When we watched people putting their money into the treasury, Jesus pointed out a widow who had dropped in two little mites. He said she had put in more than all the rich people. Is that what He wanted for us? Obscurity and poverty? Or looking back, did He just want us to give Him everything?
He told us, “They will deliver you to synagogues and prisons, and you will be brought before kings and governors, and all on account of my name.” That sounds favorable, right? But then why did Jesus follow up that statement with this one?–“You will be betrayed by parents, brothers, relatives, and friends, and they will put some of you to death. All men will hate you because of me.“ What does this mean?
Later He said, “Now my heart is troubled, and what shall I say? ‘Father, save me from this hour‘? No, it was for this very reason I come to this hour. Father, glorify your name!”
Would you believe that a voice answered him from heaven?!–all of us heard it!–and declared, “I have glorified it, and will glorify it again.” Jesus explained that the voice was for our benefit. Then He said, “The prince of this world will be driven out.” Of course! Good news to our ears! They why is Jesus talking about being troubled?
Wednesday night
On Wednesday, we held our Passover Feast with Jesus in Mary’s upper room on the Western Wall. Her son Mark was a smart kid who tagged along and helped us out when we were in Jerusalem; we all liked him. Mary’s large dwelling served as our home base for this week. We couldn’t anticipate its importance during the following days, weeks, and months.
We only sensed Jesus’ incredible sadness and resoluteness. He wasn’t tired in His normal way. He was authoritative and yet willingly submissive in His spirit. To what? To God the Father, of course. But why was this troubling to Him?
After our Passover dinner, Jesus wrapped a towel around His waist, like a servant, and began washing our feet. What an outrage! That was a task for Mary’s servants, not the Messiah.
“No, Lord,” I protested. “Are you going to wash my feet?” One of us needed to recognize the absurdity of this action.
The most upsetting statement of the week–and of my entire life–happened next.
Jesus said to me, “Simon, Simon, Satan has asked to sift you as wheat. But I have prayed for you, Simon, that your faith may not fail. And when you have turned back, strengthen your brothers.”
Turn back? From what? I’m not going anywhere. I felt insulted that Jesus would think otherwise. I told him I was ready to go to prison for Him and even die for Him. (Pretty smart how I referenced the prison thing, huh?
His words destroyed me. “I tell you, Peter , before the rooster crows today, you will deny three times that you know me.”
Before morning, I would deny knowing Jesus?
It wasn’t possible! As certain as I was of fishing and friendship, I was certain that it was impossible for me to deny Jesus, my Master and friend.
And why did Jesus call me Simon when He predicting my betrayal but Peter when promising my restoration? What was He telling me?
A sword
Then Jesus told us to take our purse and buy a sword. If we didn’t have money for a sword, He told us to sell a coat to get one. A sword? We‘re going to fight now, after three and a half years of telling us to turn the other cheek and build the kingdom of heaven?
Proudly, I glanced at the sword I wore on my belt. So Jesus realized the Pharisees couldn’t be trusted. Good. Maybe He would stop taking needless risks in the Temple and actually lead us to overthrow the Romans. With Jesus ruling in Israel, He could bring justice to the religious leaders and purify the Temple completely. Maybe that’s why we’d be called into the synagogues and courts? Maybe we’ll win this battle legally and spiritually?
What happened next is blurry in my memory but sickening to my spirit. I can barely write of it.
Jesus took all of us back to the Mount of Olives, where He’d spent every night that week, alone. He asked us to watch with Him and pray, and He pulled away James and John and me to pray nearer to Him.
Then He moved away from us, kneeling at a rock, His head bowed painfully. We caught a glimpse of His agony, and yet…what a week! We were so tired.
A temptation
Jesus woke us up and told us to pray so we wouldn’t fall into temptation. Temptation to do what? It was the middle of the night. All we wanted was sleep.
I stood up, stretching my aching limbs. Then I saw torches advancing toward us. The rhythmic march of soldiers’ feet thumped through the olive grove. In the flickering light, I saw the flash of armor and the glittering decorations of Pharisee robes. And Malchus, whom John knew, the servant of High Priest Caiaphas.
What were the Roman soldiers and the Jewish leaders doing here together in the middle of the night? It made no sense. Someone should take action.
Then I saw a face I knew. Judas Iscariot! Why was he with them? I thought he has left the dinner to give to the poor. What is he doing?
Judas came forward and kissed Jesus on the cheek. A normal greeting. But Judas’ face twisted with conflicting emotions. He seemed mechanical and detached, yet determined. Ashamed yet arrogant.
“Are you Jesus of Nazareth?” the soldiers asked Jesus.
The betrayal
Jesus nodded, looking at Judas with sorrow. “I am he….Judas, are you betraying the Son of Man with a kiss?”
Judas’ expression told us all that we couldn’t comprehend: he had given Jesus to the Romans during the only time he was ever alone.
The soldiers grabbed Jesus, pulling his hands behind his back and roping them quickly.
One of us asked Him urgently, “Lord, should we strike with our swords?” Without waiting for a response, I pulled my blade from the sheath and swung at the nearest person. My sword made contact with Malchus’ head, slicing his ear off.
I stepped back, shocked.
“Peter, put away your sword!” Jesus responded. “Shall I not drink the cup the Father has given me?” He touched Malchus’ ear, which was instantly restored.
the nightmare
We fled, leaving Jesus in custody of the Roman soldiers.
John and I reconvened later at Annas’ courtyard. John was admitted inside because he knew him. After awhile, John came and spoke to the servant girl at the doorway, and they let me into the outer court.
“You’re one of His disciples, aren’t you?” she asked me.
The words still ring in my head: “I am not.”
The trial commenced, an illegal charade filled with false testimony and abuse. I warmed my hands by the fire while I tried to hear what was happening.
How could this be Jesus’ plan? How could God the Father allow this? Why would Jesus submit to it?
Say something! I shouted in my head.
Annas badgered Jesus with questions about his identity.
“I have spoken openly to the world,” Jesus responded. “Why question me? Ask those who heard me. Surely they know what I said.”
A nearby official struck Jesus across the face. “Is this the way you answer the high priest?”
I winced at the blow. Jesus said nothing.
Do something!
the denial
Someone at the fire asked me if I knew Jesus. Again, I said I did not.
Then one of the high priest’s servants, apparently a relative of Malchus, said, “You are one of his disciples! I saw you in the olive grove!”
Fear twisted my insides. I swore, angry, terrified, and belligerent, and I shouted, “I do not know the man!”
And the rooster crowed.
It was Thursday. Dawn reached its orange fingers into the dark. I felt the light coming, warming my face with shame.
I ran again, sobbing, pausing only to wretch behind a building. I staggered into the shadows and fell to the ground, weeping uncontrollably. How could I abandon Jesus like that? How could I claim to not know Him just hours after I promised to die for Him?
And how could He leave us like this? How could He allow them to accuse and abuse Him?
I had never done something so hideous, so damnable as this. I hated myself.
The world turned black.
They would surely kill Him, that was evident. We would be hunted. The kingdom screeched to a halt.
I was no Petras, no foundation for anything. How could God ever forgive me now?
See the other blogs about Easter (Witnesses of the Cross Series):
Palm Sunday: John’s Perspective
Maundy Thursday: Judas’ Betrayal
Resurrection Sunday: Mary Magdalene’s Joy
Thanksgiving for the Cross (a prayer)
