The Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost

In the name of our creator, redeemer, and sustainer. Amen

Peter has been in our gospel readings three of the last four weeks. Originally called Simon, Jesus renamed him Peter, which in Greek means rock. Last week Jesus said “Blessed are you, Peter,” but this week poor Peter gets yet another name from Jesus: Satan. Jesus has just told the disciples that he will suffer greatly, endure a horrible death, and rise from that death. Peter’s response? “This must never happen to you.” Once again, Peter, Jesus’s rock, just can’t believe Jesus, can’t trust Jesus, can’t help but deny what Jesus is saying. While Peter’s reaction is similar to that of Moses in the first reading, there is a major difference: Moses asks questions, Peter blurts out absolutes. Moses is curious about this bush that’s burning but not disintegrating. He’s humble, asking God “Who am I that I should go to Pharoh?” And when God assures Moses that he will be at his side, Moses believes, and does what he is commanded to do. Not Peter. He’s already decided how it’s going to go. And so, Jesus rebukes him and tells Peter—and us—that unless we decide what we will give in return for our lives, we will forfeit our lives. In the end, after a long and circuitous route, Peter gives his life, giving his earthly life in return for his eternal life .

In 1970—I was seventeen—I told my father that I had bought my first car, a 1966 Corvair convertible, for $100. It didn’t run and had to be towed up our driveway. Five years before, Ralph Nader’s blockbuster bestseller, Unsafe At Any Speed, had been published. The dangerous car Nader cited was the Corvair. Poor Dad couldn’t contain himself. He said to me: “You know what your problem is? You don’t think, you just jump in with both feet. And you don’t realize you’ve made a mistake until you’re up to your neck in mud.” I’ve cleaned it up a bit—he didn’t say mud.

This impulsive tendency of mine is why, of all the people in the gospels, I just love Peter. Peter is impulsive, he blurts things out, he’s so wonderfully flawed…he’s human! I think we often forget or ignore that the disciples—and Jesus—were human. We are sometimes so wrapped up in the divinity of Jesus that we don’t appreciate his humanity; the humanity he shared with us. I believe Jesus told a joke or two, and laughed at others’ jokes, that he didn’t just smile gently, but that he sometimes laughed from his gut, or wept uncontrolably. Maybe he ocaisonally put up a shelf that wasn’t exactly level, or slipped and hammered his thumb. Perhaps one night, after walking all day through hot and dusty Judea, he and the disciples had a little too much wine, and got silly. I’m not sure we take enough time to realize that Jesus came to us because God wanted to show us that he loved us for everything we are, warts and all. And the disciple with the most warts, Peter, was chosen by Jesus to lead his followers after his death.

Four weeks ago, here’s Peter with Jesus, the guy that he dropped everything to follow, who he’s seen perform miracles, and who now has him walking on water. It’s not like Peter stepped out of the boat and sank. Nope, he stepped out and actually started walking on water. And then, like us God bless him, Peter ceased to trust, ceased to believe. As Nicholas pointed out four weeks ago, fear overtook Peter…and he sank. Jesus saves him and you’d think Peter would have learned to, would have believed, from that point on.

But later, Peter is the one who is asked three times by Jesus if he loves him. By the third yes, Peter is getting pretty miffed: “Of course I love you!” He might have even added an indignant, “How dare you!” Soon, of course, Peter denies ever having known Jesus, three times.

I’ve always found Peter’s part in the Transfiguration story bordering on comical, because of the genuine humanity of his reaction. Here are Peter, James, and John witnessing a glorious transfiguration of Jesus, along with the blinding appearance of Eilijah and Moses. The almighty creator speaks from the heavens. James and John are speechless, perhaps in a mild state of shock. And what does Peter do in the midst of all this magnificence? “Hey guys, can I build ya a tent?” Really, a tent?! Do they look like they need a tent? I’m surprised that Peter didn’t build a fire and have a BBQ for them. But that’s my initial reaction, and perhaps Peter’s response deserves more reflection. While Peter is not in the total awe that James and John are, his first act, his spontaneous act, is one of service and care. He wants to build a shelter. Maybe James and John are seeing the trees, wrapped up in their own experience, while Peter, who sometimes doesn’t have a clue, actually clearly sees the forest for those trees.

Of course, in the end, this most human, flawed, and lovable apostle, chooses to go to Rome. I’m guessing it took him a little longer than usual to get there because, Peter being Peter and male, well you know he didn’t ask for directions. Peter doesn’t choose the relative safety of Jerusalem, a place he knew, where he could have hid, as he did the night he denied Jesus. No. Peter chooses to go to a place he doesn’t know, knowing that if he spreads the word and teachings of Jesus, he will be persecuted. This sometimes fear-filled coward finds the faith and courage to follow his beliefs. When sentenced to death he even, according to the story, asks to be crucified upside down because he doesn’t think he is worthy to be put to death in the same manner as Jesus.

We’re all human. We’re all filled with fear. Many times I’ve taken the safer way because I haven’t had the courage to do the right thing. Many times we do these things in silence; letting the misogynist or racist or gay joke go without comment, waiting for someone else to assist the homeless person who smells, or not speaking up when the new people who moved into the neighborhood are shunned because they are Hispanic.

We’re safe here within our own walls, somewhat like Peter could have remained safe if he’d hung around Jerusalem. Can we leave our safety and go to Rome?

Can we risk walking on water?

Amen