The Truth is More Fun

            In families or marriages or friendships, the failure better left in the past, the items stored in the attic of what is better forgotten, these moments of shame are often things we share in common.  Both parties, all parties, all involved, had a hand in the undoing.  Everyone is a bit to blame.

            "It takes two to tango" can suggest love, but it most often suggests moments where love didn't win out, or both parties made mistakes. One of the key aspects of any marriage or family therapy is hearing the story from "both sides."  Hence the saying, "the truth is somewhere in the middle" or "there is more than enough blame to go around."  For this reason much of what we carry with us as guilt or shame is quite often a corporate account.  Do we really need to talk about that?

            All of this tends to be part of the reason why we don't bring up mistakes.  Don't talk about it.  If you love someone, you leave it alone.  If you want to keep the peace, if you want to have a nice day, well, then don't go drudging up the past, uncovering old wounds.  In many ways, what we don't say, don't talk about can almost be as important as what we do talk about. 

            In our house we use the Yankees to make this point.  None of us are Yankees fans, and thus, most likely do not possess any opinion or insight into the status of the team.  Yet, if there is a moment where the topic of conversation has ventured perilously close to what should not be said, or need not be discussed, someone will say, "so how about those Yankees?"  In other words, maybe we should change the subject.

            But this is a choice, an act of love.  This is different from the spaces and relationships where you can't talk about something or you are not allowed to talk about problems.  In such places this is not a matter of love or friendship, but fear.  In business settings they call this the "unspeakable unspoken."  No one wants to contradict the boss because if you do there will be blood.  No one can criticize the golden child because then you are not a team player. No one can say, "hey, there is an elephant in the room," because the elephant has been there for so long and so much has been done to work around it, what is the point.

            Be it fear or wrath or energy, there are things you can't talk about.  Because if you do talk about them then everything falls apart. The ways of coping don't work; the truce of silence is broken and now folks are coming out swinging.  The unspeakable unspoken is not a matter of love or shared guilt like you would find in a family or a relationship.  The unspeakable unspoken is left unsaid because this is practical, even reasonable.  It is not a good thing to speak up if the consequences are brutal or abusive.  There are reasons people keep their mouths shut and their heads down.  It's not safe to talk.

            There are only two stories that talk about the disciples found in all four gospels.  Only two.  The story of Judas' betrayal, how he hands Jesus over, is one of the two.  This is a terrible story, a dark story.  Judas takes his own life in the end; Jesus says, it would have been better that you were not born.  Terrible story.  The other is better in comparison, but not great in the bigger scheme of things.  The other story all four gospels tell of a disciple is Peter's denial.  I don't know him.

            The story of Judas has a purpose: it moves the plot along, answers a question; it also explains his absence in the church after the resurrection.  Where Judas' betrayal works in the plot of the gospels, Peter's denial doesn't, lacks a clear purpose.  Jesus could have been arrested, tried, and crucified without Peter's denials or the cock's crow.  There was no moment where if only Peter had confessed his relationship to Jesus, then the interrogation would have stopped. "Some guy says he knows Jesus.  We should stop beating him up." No.  There is no delay of the resurrection because Peter didn't speak up. "Jesus rose on the day Peter finally confessed his denials."  No.  It really doesn't matter that Peter said, "don't know him."

            In fact, that Peter didn't speak honestly in the moment is not something for which anyone need blame him or see him as a coward.  If he had said, "yes, I am with the man they are beating," if he had told them who he was, the result would have been, "hey, let's flog this guy too."  And what would that have accomplished? 

            The people asking Peter if he knows Jesus are not curious or making conversation.  This is a dangerous place, and these are dangerous people.  Telling them the truth would simply have put Peter in danger.  And for what?  Peter has a moment of bravado in the upper room; Peter wisely does not follow through with his boast at the house of the high priest with the guards.  He boasted when it was safe; he changed his tune when it was dangerous. A great day? No.  But certainly understandable given the risk. 

              What is more, we know already that Peter does and says the wrong thing at the wrong time.  Peter was always blowing it.  His denial in the courtyard on the night of Jesus' arrest is not a development of his character; it is but one more example.  The transfiguration, the confession at Caesarea Philippi, walking on the water.  Peter's faults are already recorded.  Why then would this one be recorded by all four gospels?  Judas, I get.  This is a necessary part of the plot.  But Peter's denial?  We already know he says the wrong thing quite often.  This is not new.  Already done.

            On the site of Jesus' interrogation and Peter's denial, there is a church today, the church of In Gallicantu, or the church of the cock's crow.  The sanctuary is built over the excavated dungeon that was below the high priest's home.  This is where Jesus was held the hours before he met with Pilate.  In the courtyard outside the church there is a bronze statue of Peter denying he knew Jesus.  There are also roosters that roam, and they crow.  When this happens every pilgrim shudders.  It is as if Peter is there saying, "I don't know him." 

            Yet, the most intriguing part of the church that is there today is the mosaics.  There are three large mosaics on the outside of the church.  One mosaic shows the interrogation; one shows Jesus being lowered into the dungeon.  The third is a beach scene where the resurrected Jesus is asking Peter, do you love me? This third mosaic is something that didn't happen on the site and it is a story only told by John.  Again, while all four account for Peter's denial, only John describes the restoration of Peter, how Jesus speaks to his failure.  Jesus asks Peter three times, do you love me?  It is as if he is erasing his tree denials, "I don't know the man."

            I find this third mosaic, the account of John, to be an answer to the question of why tell the story of the denial.  Matthew Mark and Luke simply recount the denials and leave it to us.  They describe the failure and then they are silent.  Much in the same way we are silent with those we love, about their mistakes and misdeeds.  Here the denials and silence become a kind of proverb.  Better to refrain from boasting, than to be like Peter in his shame.  Better to speak with humility than to find arrogance undoing your name.

            Sometimes it is good to speak, sometimes not: that is a proverb.  Peter is a proverb on what it means to be a disciple or church leader.  Peter is the rock, but he is also someone who stumbles.  Jesus will say, "Blessed are you Simon bar Jonah," and he will also in the moment say to Peter, “get behind me Satan.”  Good and bad. But the third Mosaic tells something else, more parable than proverb. 

            I knew Bill for five years, traveled with him, dined with him, laughed and cried with him.  But it was quite a long time, and only once, before he spoke of his pain, his childhood, his night terrors and panic that persisted even at the age of seventy.  You could say this is my job.  I am sometimes a counselor, a confessor, a repository for pain.  Yet, when Bill spoke he wasn't talking to me as a pastor.  He knew I loved him.

            We could look at the denial of Peter and the shame he felt (his misdeed, his cowardice) and consider him a beloved.  Someone worthy of our silence, our acceptance.  God forgives, who are we not to offer the same?  Forgive as you have been forgiven.  Peter is an example of how the apostles were people not heroes.  But again, this had already been established and none of this is worthy of being told by all four gospels, let alone to become John's conclusion on the beach with Jesus asking him, “do you love me?” 

             I have stood by the third mosaic of in Gallicantu many times. I am always surprised by its power.  People weep.  The mosaic itself is not all that beautiful or provocative.  But it's like a door with a message on its mantle: Only love erases fear, only love eases pain, heartbreak.

            That's what I heard in Bill's confession, his account of his childhood pain.  He was not only describing a great burden, something he carried each night in his dreams overtaking his sleep, he was also hoping, believing, that my love for him as a friend would guard his dignity, and maybe, maybe my love could ease the pain, erase the shame, mend the heartbreak.

            There are times and people who are completely unworthy of truth.  There are dangerous folk who will take your words and use them against you.  That is not a news flash.  But it is what we should remember about the moment where Peter panics and says, "I don't know him."  It kept him from being beaten, perhaps kept him alive.  Hard to be the rock of the church as a tombstone.

            And there is a part of me that simply doesn't like the story of Peter's denial.  It's not needed so to speak.  It doesn't move the story forward.  Peter's denial is a drudging up of a mistake, shame, that could have been kept quiet, kept out of the gospels altogether.  So it gives me pause when I consider everyone talking about it. True, it could be a proverb, a moral lesson for the church, a kind of cathartic confession to say, everyone has clay feet.  That's fine.

            Sitting with my friend Bill so many years ago listening to the torture he carries with him each day decade after decade, I am ready to concede to why Peter's denial would be spoken of by all.  The third mosaic at in Gallicantu does the same.  It's not about clay feet; it's about how love can not only guard the dignity of others simply by not talking about past failures, and this is good, but love can also erase, love can also ease the panic.  Do you love me Jesus asked?  This is key as love will heal you, heal the brokenness.  Amen.