CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

FROM SERVANTS TO FRIENDS

So how would the disciples learn to “hallow”

Abba’s name? That’s what they had just begun to

learn in their intensive training workout with

Jesus. They had been with Him literally every step

of the way. Instead of beginning with theory then

moving to its practice, Jesus had brought them

right into His preaching, teaching, and healing

work. Now he was explaining the meaning of what

learning to think and care and act as God thinks

and cares and acts by doing everything with Jesus.

And it had been a whirlwind learning experience

for them as they went with Jesus “round to the

whole of Galilee, teaching in the synagogues,

preaching the gospel of the Kingdom, and curing

whatever illness or infirmity there was among the

people.” (Mt. 4:23) So much had been happening as

“sufferers from every kind of illness … were

brought to him and he cured them.” (Mt. 4:24) And

this move to a mount for a sermon might appear to

be a very public event addressed to a huge

congregation. But such was not the case. Jesus

“went up the hill … took his seat, and when his

disciples had gathered round him he began to

address them.” (Mt. 5:1-2)

They must have been wondering: “Well, master,

how are we doing?” So that’s how Jesus begins His

instruction. Not with a series of demands, but with

a series of congratulations. They had been

responsive and open to God’s initiatives.

Martin Buber once again gives us an insight

into what Jesus was doing with and for them. He

wasn’t just affirming them, He was confirming them

in their efforts. In fact He was welcoming them as

His partners to be confirmed as they undertook

those initial experimental steps in their radically

new life of apprenticing with Him. That experience

was shaping and forming their very being. For this

to happen they and we need to be confirmed by

another as fully authentic, truly human beings. In

intuitively yearning for this we’ll even settle for

a make-believe affirmation. “The tendency toward

seeing {make-believe} originates in man’s confirmed

falsely rather than not to be confirmed at all.”

(Martin Buber: “The Knowledge of Man” with an

Introduction by Alan Udoff p. 18 in Intro.)

But Jesus gave them not a false, superficial

“pat on the back.” He gave them a glorious series

of specific things they has done or could do all

prefaced with that uplifting word:

_________________ in Greek with translates into:

“Blessed are you when...” or “congratulations

when…” or “ .” The good news was

that when and as these were the things they were

doing, and this was the way they were going, they

were indeed “hallowing His Father’s name.”

And it’s quite a collection of “evidences” that

Matthew has assembled here. Following the repeated

“congratulations” come the specifics describing who

they are, what they need and what they do. It’s a

review of what they’ve just been involved in with

Jesus. It’s the Good News of God’s loving

intervention spelled out – Man’s needs met by God’s

action. And they have been signed up to be part of

God’s work.

Then comes the final “proof” that their efforts

have truly been manifestations of God’s own

thinking, planning, and acting and not just their

individual excellences. When [their fellows] see

the good they do instead of lavishing praise on

them as remarkably fine and caring persons, they

accurately trace back the origin of their healing

and helping initiatives to their real Source and

“give praise to [their] Father [Abba] in heaven.”

(Mt. 5:16)

The disciples need Jesus’ confirmation of not

only what they were doing but how they were doing.

And none of their doing or being was a result of

their own isolated individual effort. All was

evidence of their partnering with Jesus or, better,

of His partnering with them. “Only as a partner can

man be perceived as an existing wholeness.” The

mutual confirmation is more than a benign

affirmation of the other. It requires individuation

and the live option of disagreeing. “True

confirmation means that I confirm by partners as

this existing being even while I oppose him. I

legitimize him over against me as the one with whom

I have to do in real dialogue.” What makes that

dialogue difference as so many polite pseudo

dialogues do. “Buber emphasizes a confirmation

which, while it accepts the other as a person, may

wrestle with him against himself,” as Maurice

Friedman points out in his Introductory Essay to

Buber’s Essays. (pp.18, 19 Martin Buber: The

Knowledge of Man.”)

This partnering between two selves is the

foundation of a person’s very being. “For the

utmost growth of the self is not accomplished, as

people like to suppose today, in man’s relation to

himself, but in the relation between the one as the

other … in the making present of another self and

in the knowledge that one is made present in his

own self by the other – together with the mutuality

of acceptance, of affirmation and confirmation …

The human person needs confirmation because man as

man needs it. An animal does not need to be

confirmed, for it’s what it is unquestionably. It

is different with man: Sent forth from the natural

domain of species into the hazard of the solitary

category … secretly and bashfully he watches for a

Yes which allows him to be and which can come to

him only from one human person to another. It is

from one man to another that the heavenly bread of

self-being is passed.” (Buber: op. cit. p. 61)

So what about the name of the Reality they can

elect to “hallow”? What’s in a name? My mind

returned to the mythic picture of Adam as he was

naming the myriad creatures in God’s creation. Was

he simply plunking arbitrary labels on assorted

items, or was he co-devising appropriate ways

whereby to identify those various realities –

verbal forms which would somehow fit the

actualities they designated?

Then again what about a “proper Name” such as

“Abba” which Jesus used to designate God’s very

being. All we can do with such a symbol is to point

towards an unfolding mystery, which we cannot begin

to adequately appreciate or fully understand. But

Jesus took us way inside with that Reality. So we

watch and listen and faith that mystery and

continue to hope as we are open to whatever ways

God may choose to reveal him or her self to us. For

us to intrude our notions or to impose our

constructs on that mystery is to disfigure and

deface the named reality we seek to know.

Then it hit me! That was precisely where Peter

went astray back there on the road to Caesarea

Philippi! He was intruding his notions and imposing

his constructs on Jesus’ reality. He had hit upon

the right name. So far so good. It fit. Jesus truly

was the Christ. But who he was and what he would do

was something for Peter and the others to discover

and learn by listening and watching and faithing

Christ as He chose to reveal his reality to them.

His actuality was not something Jesus presented as

an open-ended option, which he was submitting for

them to arrange, correct, modify or change. It was

the “givenness” of who he was. The only option open

to them was whether or not they would hallow his

Reality as given. Peter refused. He chose to hallow

his notions instead of Christ’s “givenness.”

Consequently Peter could go no further. He refused

to follow that access Jesus offered for him to move

out of solipsism and into partnering with him in

his thinking. He dropped out at the second

statement in the Lord’s Prayer. In fact he barely

made it to the very first word. Was there an I-Thou

meeting? Did Peter truly connect with Abba’s and

Jesus’ actualities? Perhaps not. Peter had faithed

Jesus’ title accurately, but he had rejected the

content, which Jesus was revealing to him. And

there was no way around that impasse. The sequence

of those statements in that prayer was a precise

step-by-step guide, which they were not merely to

recite but to follow and to do. Each built on the

ones preceding it. No skipping around or leaping

ahead was possible. Should anyone attempt to do so,

then that guide would become a diagnostic

instrument which would pinpoint where and why the

alleged “pray-er” had been diverted from his path.

So it was that the prayer diagnosed the point

of Peter’s defection. In refusing to accept

Christ’s reality and to “hallow” his Name Peter

made himself an outsider in regard to both Jesus

and Abba. He could not think along with Abba

because he would not think along with Jesus. To

shut out Jesus was to shut out Abba. Peter was off

and away thinking on his own. He must have

frequently recited the words of the Lord’s Prayer

precisely as Jesus taught it to them. But he did

not enter into their meaning or do them. He spoke

the key names -- Abba’s and Jesus’ both -- but he

did not hallow them. The Adversary won that round.

I found that hard to accept. After experiencing

Jesus’ blazing confrontation -- “Away with you,

Satan!” -- Peter surely must have gotten the

message. Or did he? Did he learn his lesson? Did he

change his solipsistic way of thinking? Did he

correct his Messianic misconception? I used to

assume that he must have done just that. After that

devastating rebuke Peter would either have had to

abandon Jesus and turn to some other, better

Messiah whose credentials better approximated his

specifications, or he would have had to revise his

views, mend his ways and become a model disciple.

Since we know he did not leave, I used to assume

that he must have come around to Jesus’ way of

thinking. But that was not what I was about to

discover.

Six days after that Caesarea Philippi incident,

the next clue appeared. Mark is specific about the

time -- six days -- which to me suggests the place

-- “a high mountain” -- was nearby. Usually it

doesn’t matter what time or which place something

occurred if only basic teaching was involved. But

when I visited that location a while back, suddenly

it clicked into place why the setting was

significant. Jesus had led the disciples away from

the crowds around the Sea of Galilee and taken them

up into the Northernmost part of Palestine. That is

where Caesarea Philippi is located -- up near where

the Jor and the Dan rivers first come together. The

origin of those rivers lies in the melting snows of

magnificent Mount Hermon which rises up in the near

distance. Out of that converging comes the Jordan

river which is to Israel what the Nile river is to

Egypt. It flows down to fill the Sea of Galilee

from which it then continues on down until finally

it empties into the Dead Sea.

What a perfect setting Caesarea Philippi

provided for the questions Jesus posed! Jesus had

taken his disciples up towards where the life-

giving waters of the Jordan had their origin. That

was where he asked them from whence he came and who

he was. So when Jesus subsequently took Peter,

James and John with him “up a high mountain” (Mark

9:2) it must have been Mount Hermon! How natural a

progression it was for him to take those three on

up the craggy slopes of that majestic mountain.

There in the midst of swirling fog and

intermittent sunlight Peter, James and John saw

Jesus’ Messianic identity declared in several ways:

first there was a physical “metamorphosis” -- “His

clothes became dazzling white.” (Mark 9:3). Then

“they saw Elijah appear, and Moses with him, and

there they were conversing with Jesus.” (Mark 9:4).

What a combination that was! -- Moses had spoken

with God who had him give Israel His laws to govern

their relationships with God and with one another.

As for Elijah, that dauntless prophet and healer

had been whirled up to God in a blaze of fire. Both

of them were talking with Jesus. What was each

saying to the other? What did it all mean?

Peter wasn’t interested in finding out:

“Rabbi!’ he said, ‘how good it is that we are here!

Shall we make three shelters: one for you, one for

Moses, and one for Elijah?” (Mark 9:5). Awed and

captivated by the mysterious phenomena, Peter’s

suggestion was not completely out of line. The

notion of marking the spot where something holy has

happened had ancient precedents. When Jacob dreamt

of a great ramp extending form earth to heaven with

“angels of God going up and down upon it” (Gen.

28:13) he was sure he had come upon “the gate of

heaven.” So he “took the stone on which he had laid

his head, set it up as a sacred pillar and poured

oil on the top of it. He named the place Bet-El

(that is, House of God).” (Gen. 28:18-19)

Yet though Peter’s suggestion was

understandable, his mistake had ominous overtones.

Vincent Taylor points out that Peter’s “temporary

dwellings” provided him with a way “to prolong the

blessed association perhaps against the idea of

Messianic suffering.” (p. 392, Vincent Taylor:

Mark )

In being so preoccupied with how best to mark

that holy spot Peter missed the central locus of

that revelation: Jesus Himself. This time Jesus

didn’t correct him; Abba did: “A cloud appeared,

casting its shadow over them, and out of the cloud

came a voice: “This is my Son, my beloved, listen

to him.” (Mk. 9:7)

“Listen to him,” was the message: “Receive him

and his message. Open your mind and your heart.

Change your way of thinking. Think with Him. Stop

telling Jesus who you think he should be and what

he should do; listen to Him as He tells you who he

is and what he shall do.” In light of that

admonition, surely this time Jesus would get

through to Peter. Or so I wanted to suppose. But

that was not what I found. Once again I had grossly

underestimated the power of solipsistic thinking to

block our ability to apprehend the reality we

confront. The next time we are given a glimpse of

what was going on in Peter’s mind occurs on the

evening Jesus was betrayed -- the eve just before

Passover. Jesus had identified himself with the

bread and the wine he gave them. It was his body --

his blood. Judas had left early, but the rest of

them remained. They all sang the concluding

Passover Hymn and then followed Jesus as he led the

way to a favorite meeting place -- the “grove of

the olive press” across the Kidron Valley from

Jerusalem.

After all that Peter had learned at Caesarea

Philippi, on the Holy Mount, and, more recently, in

Jesus’ symbolic ride into Jerusalem where he

cleansed the Temple, surely he along with the

others must have been ready to “Hallow Jesus’ name.

.” How could they avoid or ignore the commanding

authority of His Presence?

And yet, as Jesus looked around at them he saw

that not one of them was truly with him. “You will

all fall from your faith,” he said. “Peter

answered, ‘Everyone else may fall away, but I will

not.’” (Mark 14:27—29) What a great response! To

all appearances he had come as close to “hallowing”

a person’s presence as was humanly possible. He was

declaring his loyalty to Jesus in no uncertain

terms; and he wasn’t bluffing. He meant every word

he said. What splendid intentions! Who could fault

him?

Simone Weil could and did. She detected in that

very statement yet another sign of Peter’s

solipsism. “To say to Christ, ‘I will never deny

Thee’ was to deny him already, for it was supposing

the source of faithfulness to be in himself and not

in grace.” (p. 22, Simone Weil: Gravity and Grace

Her diagnosis pinpointed the core problem:

independent thinking; independent acting -- in both

the self sees itself as the source, in this case

Peter’s own self. It wasn’t Jesus’ name that Peter

was hallowing; it was his own. There he was again -

- taking over instructing and caring for Jesus who

didn’t know enough to take care of himself. Peter

was still arrogantly self-isolated way inside in

the originative core of his being -- the very place

where communion with his Lord should have

prevailed. An on-going interchange between the two

of them should have been shaping all of his

emerging thoughts and actions so that they would

express his partnership with his Lord. Instead

Peter was operating entirely on his own.

The move from solipsism’s arrogant self-

sufficiency into partnership’s sustaining inter-

dependence is so radical and all-encompassing that

it requires a complete change in the way we go

about thinking and doing everything. Quite possibly

the most difficult change lies in our readiness to

receive the “givenness” of the other. For a

partnership to work, each must be ready to receive

as well as to give. Jesus was. Peter wasn’t.

Consequently Peter rejected what should have been

an interior dialogue -- a meeting of his and Jesus’

minds -- and engaged instead in a solipsistic

monologue with himself. As a result, instead of

working with Jesus as colleagues prepare for a

battle Peter came up with yet another pitiful

display of hubris.

Peter was oblivious to what was happening.

Jesus saw that. Solipsistic disciples are adept at

taking charge and managing their teachers along

with their teachings all of which they keep “out

there” as resources to be drawn on and referred to

at will -- their will. Adding to the array of

available teachings does nothing to reach the root

of the problem. As Simone Weil puts it: “What is

necessary is not that the initiated should learn

something but that a transformation should come

about in him which makes him capable of receiving

the teaching.” (S. Weil: Gravity and Grace , p. 75)

That transformation had yet to take place in Peter.

Jesus knew that. “Today, this very night,

before the cock crows twice, you yourself will

disown me three times.” But Peter insisted and

repeated: “Even if I must die with you, I will

never disown you.” (Mark 14:30-31) A noble

intention, but Peter was talking by and to himself

so loudly that not a word Jesus was saying could

get through. His obstinately isolated self was so

determined to make his own very special

contribution that he could not possibly admit even

the slightest possibility that the scenario he was

projecting might not be what Jesus had in mind. No

matter. His loyalty was beyond question. He had

every confidence that he would live out his vow.

Disown Jesus? Never!

Actually the sword Peter had ready at hand made

clear exactly what he had in mind. His commitment

was to the imaginary Messiah he had superimposed on

Jesus. Long since he had disowned and disconnected

himself from his real master. He was off on his

own, well prepared to serve his imaginary Messiah.

Should Jesus’ life be threatened, then as his

Lord’s faithful bodyguard he would fight to the

finish in his defense. That much was settled. His

mind was made up. Consequently with his head as

full of valorous thoughts as his stomach was of

food, Peter proceeded to do what any sensible

soldier should do on the eve of a battle -- get

some sleep.

Jesus had no time for sleep. He had decisions

to make, and he wasn’t about to make them by

himself. Had Jesus made up his mind what he would

do before that conference too place? No. It was a

now-event of the utmost urgency. Once again he

would work everything out with Abba as they had so

many times before. However this time the

possibility that his own death might be a necessary

cost loomed large. On the other hand, alternative

courses of action were still available. He could

easily elude his enemies. So what would he do? The

future was genuinely open-ended. The discussion was

real.

This time Jesus decided against keeping his

one-on-one conference private. The disciples needed

to witness exactly how he and Abba went about

thinking and planning things together. Only then

could they understand how he arrived at his

decision regarding what he would do. Not all of

them were ready for this instruction, but Peter,

James and John were. So “he said to his disciples,

‘sit here while I pray,’ and he took Peter and

James and John with him.” (Mark 14:33)

How much did he want them to know about what he

thought and how he felt? Just about everything. He

would tell them precisely where he was and exactly

how he felt. He would hold nothing back. So when

“horror and dismay came over him,” He told them

outright: “My heart is ready to break with grief;

stop here and stay awake.” (Mark 14:34)

What comes across loud and clear is that this

was real. In no way was it staged for their

edification. And, He was neither reluctant to share

his anguish nor ashamed to welcome their support.

He was ready to receive. And why not? They were his

friends. During supper he had said: I call you

servants no longer; a servant does not know what

his master is about. I have called you friends,

because I have disclosed to you everything that I

heard from my Father.” (John 15:15)

“Friends.” Now there is a term of such

intimacy, trust and confidence that Raymond Brown

translates it as “my beloved,” explaining that the

original Greek (philos) is a cognate of the verb

“philein,” which means “to love.” “The English word

friend does not capture sufficiently this

relationship of love (for we have lost the feeling

that ‘friend’ is related to the Anglo—Saxon verb

freon ‘to love’).” (Raymond Brown: John p. 664)

True friends are together in their thinking,

planning, understanding, and caring. And there is

no doubt that Jesus was their friend. But were they

his?

Evidently not. When he told them of the

wrenching heartbreak he was experiencing, what did

they do? They all went to sleep. Not one of them

stayed awake to be with him.

Did that leave Jesus alone and friendless? No.

His Father was with him every moment and every step

of the way. The very name Jesus used -- “Abba” --

conveys such a wealth of deep and abiding affection

and care that I can only think of Jesus’ Father as

his best friend. Hence when Jesus “went forward a

little, threw himself on the ground, and prayed

that, if it were possible this hour might pass him

by” (Mark 14:35), I find nothing ominous or

adversarial implied. Then as always Abba was not

against him; He was for him.

So when Jesus went on to say: “Abba, Father . .

. all things are possible to thee…” I see the two

of them looking together at the entire range of

options as they set about deciding what Jesus would

do. As a matter of fact Abba could have intervened.

He had such natural forces as wind, fire,

earthquake and flood at his disposal along with

“legions of angels” to which Jesus would later

refer, but they decided he would not do any of

those things. The question was not what he was able

to do but rather which option would best serve

their purpose, “thy kingdom come.” Recruiting and

empowering person after person to work with them

entailed making immediate decisions while

considering long-range consequences.

In order to make it clear that this call into a

trust relationship was an invitation -- not a

command -- freedom was essential. To say “yes,”

each individual had to be free to say “No.” That

freedom characterizes every who-relationship

beginning with that Son-Father partnership. As Abba

was not about to coerce Jesus, neither would they

use coercion in any form. However for them to

permit rejection meant being prepared to accept

rejection’s brutal consequences. The terrible cost

Jesus might have to absorb could well be lethal.

Was there any other way? “Take this cup away from

me,” Jesus pleaded. “Yet not what I will, but what

thou wilt.” (Mark 14:36)

Was what took place there a clash of wills in

which Abba’s will finally won out over Jesus’? I

don’t think so. I think Jesus was genuinely

persuaded that the course of action on which the

two of them finally agreed was the best way to

proceed. In the give-and-take of full mutuality a

genuine meeting of minds emerged. Abba didn’t force

Jesus to do anything against his will. The

conclusion they reached was Jesus’ choice as well

as Abba’s. Together they anticipated the ways and

means necessary to accomplish their purpose. And

interestingly enough, the underlying structure

behind that entire co thinking event appears to

have followed the sequence of statements we find in

that prayer which Jesus had given his disciples. It

was as though he was quietly suggesting: “That

general agenda/sequence is the one I use myself.

It’s a useful outline to follow as you and Abba

work out a way of dealing with whatever issues you

have to face.”

But Jesus was not giving them a lecture or

presenting an instruction for their edification.

Within that outline pulsated the living issues he

and Abba were dealing with at that very moment!

“Asleep, Simon? Were you not able to stay awake for

one hour? Stay awake, all of you; and pray that you

may be spared the test.” (Mark 14:37—38)

“The test” calls to mind the final section of

that Prayer- outline, doesn’t it? “Do not bring us

to the test.” Which test? Was he referring to the

external challenges which He and they were about to

face? Those external threats certainly loomed large

and were not likely to go away. Would Abba override

those threats and dissipate the coalition of forces

which had enlisted Judas’ services? No.

But the disciples were facing a far more

critical test: their bond with Jesus Himself. Would

they think and act solipsistically or in

partnership with Abba and Jesus? To meet that

internal challenge they would have to change the

way they did their thinking -- the very change

Jesus had sought to bring about in them. Then when

they were under heavy fire they would follow the

sequence of steps provided in that key prayer. That

would bring them out of solipsism into partnership.

They all knew how to go about it. They had

memorized the prayer and could recite the sequence.

The question was would they do it?

When I asked myself that question I concluded

that I probably wouldn’t have. Why? Because my

instinctive, almost automatic reaction when I’m

under attack is to turn “turtle.” Pride urges me to

handle this on my own. So I withdraw into my shell,

as it were. I pull in my head and arms and legs in

the utterly futile hope that nothing and no one

will reach or hurt me. Or I erupt in a burst of

activity and “take arms against a sea of troubles.”

Either way I’m “on my own.” It’s nonsense, of

course. But it’s real.

Solipsism. That’s the psychic condition whether

I withdraw or erupt. It’s how my hubris ends up

isolating me. Consequently I lose my connection

with my fellow-whos and with the Who. In an instant

my instinctive reaction totally reverses and

negates the entire purpose of the Lord’s Prayer. I

move out of partnership into solipsism.

That was the interior battle which caused Jesus

to sound the alarm as he tried to rouse the

disciples from their stupor! He and Abba were in

the midst of thinking everything through together,

making their decisions and mapping out their

strategies. Jesus intended the disciples to be part

of the process. Instead they were collapsing into

that most vulnerable of all conditions -- sleep.

Old habits were cancelling out new intentions.

The discussion concluded. No longer was there

any question in Jesus’ mind. He knew what he would

do. He and Abba had arrived at a meeting of minds

and wills. The disciples had missed their

opportunity to be part of that co-thinking. Too

late. No time left. With the decisive, matter-of-

fact determination of a commander marshalling his

forces for battle Jesus woke them: “Still sleeping?

Still taking your ease? Enough! The hour has come .

. . Up, let us go forward! My betrayer is upon us.”

(Mark 14:43—44)

Within moments Judas arrived with a “crowd

armed with swords and cudgels, sent by the chief

priests, lawyers, and elders.” (Mark 14:43-44)

Peter jumped up, reacting instantly according to

plan -- his plan. He “drew the sword he was wearing

and struck the High Priest’s servant, cutting off

his right ear.” (John 18:10)

No doubt he felt proud of himself. What a bold

and brave diversion he had created. In the

resulting confusion Jesus could easily have escaped

into the darkness. To Peter that made perfect

sense. To save the King was to serve the Kingdom.

Unfortunately what Peter did totally

contradicted Jesus’ and Abba’s projected plan and

purpose. Peter failed to see that while coercion

may produce temporary conformity, it is essentially

unreliable. For whos to choose they must be free.

To assure that freedom, Jesus deliberately set

aside his powers. Signs and wonders of any sort

would get in the way of his decisive one-on-one

encounter with each and every person. They all

would look at his powers instead of at him. And

that personal encounter with him was critical. It

would be their last chance to respond. Would they

faith him? It was still possible. No matter what

choices they had made previously, this encounter

would provide each of them with another opportunity

to choose to be for rather than against him. And

that included Judas, Caiaphas, the arresting police

and all of the others there involved. In that

moment of decision each could change his mind.

But now with a stroke of his sword Peter had

completely diverted their attention. In his

misguided effort to defend his Master, in effect he

had sabotaged Jesus’ entire mission. Because he

consistently refused to hallow Jesus’ reality as

given, Peter had ended up serving the wrong

kingdom. His show of support was, in fact, an act

of betrayal.

Healing the servant’s wounded ear took only a

moment. Jesus “touched the man’s ear and healed

him.” (Luke 22:51) Reaching and teaching Peter was

far more difficult. “‘Sheathe your sword,” (Jesus)

said to Peter. ‘This is the cup the Father has

given me; shall I not drink it?” (John 18:11)

Peter must have heard Jesus’ words, but did he

understand what Jesus was talking about? I don’t

think so. Back at Gethsemane, three times Jesus had

knocked at the gates of his consciousness seeking

to bring him into his and Abba’s thinking; three

times Peter had turned him away and had gone back

to sleep.

Peter was not the only defector. Following

Peter’s futile sword play, “the disciples all

deserted (Jesus) and ran away.” (Mark 14:49) Most

of them stayed away. However when Jesus was led

away, he “was followed by Simon Peter and another

disciple. This disciple, who was acquainted with

the High Priest, went with Jesus into the High

Priest’s courtyard . . . and brought Peter in.”

(John 18:15-16)

Attempting to be as inconspicuous as possible

Peter quietly warmed himself at a fire. He must

have been trying to sort out a whirl of confusing

thoughts regarding the events there unfolding. Who

was this man? Why was this happening? To make

matters worse suspicious servants plied him with

questions. Exactly what was his relationship with

Jesus? Their questions resonated with his own inner

conflict. What relationship? Suddenly he realized

he did not know. He was completely out of touch

with him. He neither understood who he was nor what

he was doing. Confused and angry he “broke out into

curses and with an oath he said, ‘I do not know

this man you speak of.’” (Mark 14:71)

He spoke the exact truth. Jesus’ reality had

not gotten through to Peter, so as a matter of fact

he did not know this person despite all the time he

had spent listening to his words and observing his

actions. At that point “the cock crew a second

time, and Peter remembered how Jesus had said to

him, ‘Before the cock crows twice you will disown

me three times.’” (Mark 14:71)

At this point Luke inserts an intriguing detail

which the other Gospels omit. As the “cock crew . .

. the Lord turned and looked at Peter.” (Luke

22:61) When their eyes met something powerful must

have taken place. And I don’t mean simply that

Peter realized that he had disowned his Master as

Jesus said he would. As the other accounts show us,

he didn’t need a look from Jesus to make that

connection. Something more was involved, something

indelibly memorable.

Why did Luke include that detail? Was there

something special about that look? Sure enough,

Luke enriches the regular word “blepo” - “to see”

or “to look at” with the prefix “en” - “in” or

“into.” Was he telling us that more than regular

sight was involved? Was Jesus “faithing” Peter?

I think so. Would Jesus have wasted that

critical moment when Peter’s entire future was in

jeopardy merely to underline the obvious? No. That

would have been the worst kind of overkill. Jesus

the initiator, aware that his beloved friend was in

extremis -- that he had been brought to the test

and had failed it -- reached out to him once again

in that look.

Had that look simply confirmed what Peter’s own

sensibilities already knew, there might well have

been two suicides not one, though instead of

hanging himself as Judas did, Peter probably would

have fallen on his sword. That’s what a good

soldier does when he learns that he has betrayed

the Lord he had vowed to serve to the death.

But there was a key difference: Judas stayed

away. He chose to think and act by and for himself

to the bitter end. He would not let Jesus intervene

for him. Peter on the other hand, was there. Jesus

could reach him, and with that look he did. He

faithed Peter. They connected. Power flowed.

Faithing intervened, exercising its gracious role

as a vigorous change-agent which heals, forgives,

sustains and calls another who into being. And this

time Peter did not resist. He finally recognized

Jesus. He saw who he actually was. That was why he

“burst into tears.” (Mark 14:72) In those tears

Peter at last was “hallowing” Jesus’ reality -- at

least in terms of awareness, and recognition.

However something still must have been missing.

Their connection was not yet complete.

What makes me think that? Had the connection

been complete, Peter surely would have followed

Jesus every step of the way to the cross and would

have arranged for his burial. But he didn’t. Why

was that? It wasn’t guilt that kept him away.

Forgiveness came in Jesus’ faithing look. And being

forgiven, Peter would have wanted to do everything

he could to help except that yet another factor got

in the way: his own powerlessness. What could he do

to reverse or even interrupt the inexorable course

of injustice which was then under way? Nothing. His

sword was useless. So was he. He had absolutely

nothing to contribute.

Was that why he stayed away? I think so. He was

put out of commission by pride’s almost terminal

convulsion. He had nothing to give. In no effective

way was he able to serve, so what was there left

for him to do? Nothing. Peter the activist-producer

could not bring himself to give Jesus all that he

actually had to offer -- namely his helplessness.

Bluff, vigorous, strong, well-used to pulling heavy

nets and walking many miles, Peter was a man of

action. Hale, hearty, outspoken and alert as he

was, no wonder the other disciples had come to

regard him as their spokesman. He had all the

makings of a natural leader. However at that moment

all that he had to present was his grief and

frustration. What kind of contribution was that?

Would he add to the overwhelming burden Jesus

already was carrying? Absolutely not. That was

something Peter would handle himself.

The pervasive demands for self-sufficiency

which solipsism generates seal us of f from the Who

and other whos. As we get used to thinking for

ourselves, so we get used to acting by ourselves.

That’s the manly thing to do. We feel competent and

useful. It contributes to our sense of self-worth.

And why not? Each and all of us have at least some

significant contributions to make or why bother to

exist? Peter no doubt saw himself as an over-all

asset not a liability. He was an unusually

promising recruit. Jesus was fortunate to have him

on his staff. Granted he had much to learn, still

at the same time he had much to contribute. At

least such was the case before this debacle. At

that moment however, all that Peter had to offer

was his emptiness -- a terrible void which engulfed

him from around and within himself. Such was his

own reality.

“Grace fills empty spaces,” Simone Weil tells

us. “But it can only enter where there is a void to

receive it, and it is grace itself which makes this

void.” (S. Weil, Gravity and Grace p. 10) But the

void which Peter was willing to accept and open up

to Jesus was only partial. His essentially

solipsistic self continued to prevent Jesus from

getting through to him completely because Peter

imagined he could handle at least part of his

fallible self by himself. That’s what made him

“grace-proof.” As Simone Weil points out,

“Imagination is continually at work filling up all

the fissures through which grace might pass.” (S.

Weil, op. cit. p. 16) Earlier that same imagination

had completely sealed him of f when he was

constructing a valiant bodyguard-self designed to

protect and preserve his “conquering Messiah.”

Those illusory selves were both lies. “The

imagination, filler up of the void is essentially a

liar. It does away with the third dimension, for

only real objects have three dimensions.” (S. Weil,

p. 16)

Jesus’ three dimensional actuality was

indisputable. That was who he was. But then who was

Peter? How did he define himself? For that matter

was he in any position to define himself? No. The

basic question was how did God define him? And

where did he stand with his Lord? Something had

happened to that strong, sturdy, competent self.

Peter’s robust self-image lay in shards around him.

His old self-esteem was gone. What was left was

utterly useless. So he stayed away.

So then what did Peter do? We don’t know where

Peter went or what he was doing while Jesus was

being tried, tortured, executed, and finally

buried. We do know that he was not one of those who

made it to the foot of the cross. Only Mary, Jesus’

mother, Mary Clopus, Mary of Magdala and John were

there. And it was Joseph of Arimathea and

Nicodemus, not Peter who anointed and entombed

Jesus’ corpse. And three days later it was not

Peter but those three Marys seeking to anoint the

corpse with burial unguents who first discovered

that Jesus’ body was no longer there.

The angelic youth at the tomb told them Jesus

“has been raised again; he is not here; look, there

is the place where they laid him.” Then he gave

them a precise instruction: “Go and give this

message to his disciples and Peter: ‘He is going on

before you into Galilee; there you will see him.’”

(Mark 16:6-8)

Peter along with John subsequently ran to the

tomb to confirm the fact that Jesus’ body was gone.

But then what? That evidence of Jesus’ triumph over

death should have galvanized Peter into action. But

it didn’t. At least there is no specific mention

that it did. Furthermore there is no evidence that

Peter was present at any of the gatherings when

Jesus met his disciples at or near Jerusalem.

That’s when it occurred to me that perhaps Peter

wasn’t there. Why? Because the angel’s message had

stated specifically that Jesus was going before

them into Galilee. Since that was where they would

see him, that was where Peter went.

But he had no idea what to expect. How would

his Lord appear? For a while He didn’t. At least it

would seem that nothing occurred because when John

picks up the story of what happened with Peter in

Galilee he tells us that Peter had gone back to his

old occupation -- fishing for fish, not men. At

that point Peter is not joyfully proclaiming Jesus’

glorious return from the dead to one and all.

Peter’s inactivity poses a puzzle. Had the

risen Christ who had appeared to other disciples at

or near Jerusalem yet appeared to Peter? Evidently

not. Peter appears to be aimlessly drifting,

existing inert and unmotivated in a kind of limbo.

Granted the empty tomb should have firmly indicated

that Christ had truly risen, still what did that

mean for him? Not enough to galvanize him into

action. What should he do about it? He didn’t know.

Self-doubt appears to have displaced his earlier

arrogant show of self-worth. He had no idea what to

do next, except, of course to exercise his old

skill -- fishing. That was something he knew how to

do.

Experienced fisherman that he was, Peter knew

that nighttime was the best time to fish. Fish were

generally easier to catch then than during the day,

and they would be fresh and saleable when markets

opened early in the morning. So he decided to

launch his boat and put in a night of work. “I am

going fishing,” he announces. And that statement

tells us more about Peter’s condition than at first

appears. “The present tense of the verb ‘to go’

expresses more than momentary intention,” Raymond

Brown points out. “Peter is going back to his

earlier way of life and will stay with it.” (P.

1069, R. Brown, John. Vol. II ) As for the Zebedee

brothers, James and John, they volunteer to go with

him as do several other disciples. So they cast

their nets and work hard all night. “But that night

they caught nothing.” (John 21:3)

A man called to them from shore as morning was

dawning, “You haven’t caught anything to eat, have

you?’ ‘No,’ they answered. ‘Cast your net to the

right of the boat,’ he directed, ‘and you’ll find

something.’ So they cast the net, and the number of

fish was so great that they were not able to haul

it in.” (John 21:5-6)

I dare say Peter’s imagination had conjured up

a far more splendid and impressive scenario than

this for his risen Lord’s promised appearance.

Consequently he wasn’t expecting anything this

down-to-earth. As for the bountiful catch, perhaps

he had mentally written that off as an unusual

spate of good luck. In any case, it wasn’t Peter,

it was “that disciple whom Jesus loved (who)

exclaimed to Peter, ‘It is the Lord.” (John 21:7)

Once the moment of recognition dawned, however,

“Simon Peter tucked in his outer garment (for he

was otherwise naked) and jumped into the sea.”

(John 21:7) He couldn’t wait for the boat to cover

the hundred yards of water which separated him from

Jesus.

When Peter arrived, Jesus already had a fire

going. A fish was broiling on the charcoal. Bread

also was on hand. The fishermen would be hungry.

They had put in a full night’s work. So Jesus said:

“Bring some of the fish you caught just now.” Simon

Peter promptly hauled in the net with its load of a

hundred and fifty-three large fish, and before long

Jesus told them: “come and have breakfast.” He

“took the bread and gave it to them, and fish in

the same way.” (John 21:12-13) Simple, sensible,

practical and yet special as it was, that breakfast

demonstrated how their “bread-for-the-day” might

actually arrive -- sort of a combination of Jesus’

gift and their own catch-of- the day. Then again He

it was who had directed that particular catch. He

told them where to cast the net.

Then it struck me. There was a shape and

structure underlying what was happening. In effect

they all were engaged in living out the entire

sequence of headings Jesus had set forth in that

Prayer He taught them beginning with “Abba.” Now

that name was charged with meaning. Christ’s

resurrection had demonstrated how totally in

command of His creation Abba was. As for Abba’s

readiness to welcome not just one but all of his

prodigals, that was gloriously evident in Jesus’

welcome to them. Now that they could appreciate who

Jesus was, hallowing his Name was whole-hearted and

unrestrained.

But they were not mere spectators, they were

participants! Linking their lives with His they

found themselves engaged in a new venture in co-

thinking, co-planning and co-acting. Abba’s kingdom

already was coming, and nothing could stop Him --

not even death itself. Jesus’ return made that

clear and now they were welcome to be part of His

initiative. This was no speculative dream; it was a

present and ever-unfolding reality. First came the

vision, then came the ways and means including the

food they were then enjoying at that very moment.

Whats could not divert them with offers of bread

and promises of wealth. They had all the bread they

needed. But neither should they use the bread they

were given to attract devotees.

As they ate the bread and fish, they must have

remembered the occasion when Jesus fed some five

thousand people with five loaves of bread and two

small fishes. What an incredible feast that was,

though they were surprised that he did it because

Jesus had told them that right after his baptism in

a soul-searching wilderness experience Satan had

challenged him to turn stones into bread so as to

win a following. He had refused. God’s word itself

was the bread that mattered most. And yet now, in

effect he was doing precisely what he had said he

would not do. And it appear have been a mistake.

How could such a wonderful event have been a

mistake? Because the people’s reaction to that

bountiful gift got out of hand as John tells us.

That showed just how wise Jesus’ initial rejection

of that possibility had been. Bread is a hazardous

blessing. Why? Because bread is power. It’s

dynamite. The bread-provider can exact obedience

from those he feeds. In fact that’s what people

expect. And as long as he keeps on providing he’s

in control. “Fill our bellies and we’ll work f or

you and give you our allegiance,” the crowds

clamor. But there’s an escape clause: “Withhold the

bread and we’ll shift our allegiance to some other

‘bread provider’ who gives us what we want.”

On that particular occasion John tells us that

“when the people saw the sign Jesus had performed .

. . they meant to come and seize him to proclaim

him king . . .” (John 6:14-15) To make matters

even worse the disciples appear to have joined in

with the adulating crowd rather than working with

Jesus to redirect their thinking. To set things

right Jesus had to take stern, decisive action. In

order to break up what was fast becoming a popular

uprising, “as soon as (the feeding) was over

(Jesus) made his disciples embark and cross to

Bethsaida ahead of him while he himself sent the

people away.” (Mark 6:4)

Probably you are wondering what called my

attention to the fact that Jesus was taking firm

disciplinary action here. Notice the word “made.”

It was a command. That intrigued me. Why didn’t he

just “ask” or “tell” them? Evidently that

particular boat ride was not something they wanted

to do; it was something he insisted they had to do.

Or was I imputing to Jesus something which wasn’t

there in the original Greek text?

Sure enough, when I looked up the Greek word

here translated “made” I found it had as synonyms:

“to compel” or “to constrain.” That set off alarms!

Something dangerously subversive was going on which

Jesus would not countenance. Some terrible

misunderstanding had arisen distorting the people’s

response to that uniquely gracious and beautiful

thing he had just done for them. Feeding them)

intended as a blessing, had been horribly

distorted. Mark underlines how serious that mistake

was. At the end of the boat-on-the-lake event, Mark

points out that the disciples “had not understood

the incident of the loaves.” (Mark 6:52) So that

was why Jesus took such decisive action!

Frankly I hadn’t noticed just how menacing

those circumstances were on earlier readings

because the dramatic account of the disciples

rowing the boat against the rising head-wind and

Jesus walking on the water to calm their fears and

quiet the wind diverted my attention lost track of

why they were in that boat in the first place.

However, the fact that his was a disciplinary

action also comes across in the way that Jesus was

initially ignoring them as he walked along the

shore. Whether he was still angry or more probably

simply preoccupied, “He was going to pass them by.”

(Mark 6:48) His mind was obviously elsewhere. Where

was that? No doubt with Abba, because right after

he had dismissed the people, he “went up the

hillside to pray.” (Mark 6:46) Perhaps he was

continuing his conversation with Abba as he walked

along the shore. What a mess! That had turned out

to be a major debacle. His caring act had been

totally misconstrued.

As for the disciples, he was perfectly well

aware that they were in the boat. That’s where he

had put them so they could quiet down and cool off.

But when their cries indicated that they were in

real trouble, he went right over to them “walking

on the lake,” and assured them: “Take heart! It is

I; do not be afraid.’ Then he climbed into the boat

beside them, and the wind dropped.” (Mark 6:49-51)

But Mark doesn’t let us forget that Jesus’

disciplinary action was fully warranted. When the

disciples had joined in with the crowd, they were

thinking and acting not as Jesus’ helpers and

colleagues but as his adversaries. Their “hearts

were hardened” to Jesus; “their minds were closed”

(Mark 6:52) to his way of thinking.

Such were the hazards of “disoriented” bread --

of bread “out of context,” specifically the context

provided by the Prayer he had taught them. The

feeding of the five thousand didn’t refute the

hazards inherent in turning stones into bread, it

demonstrated them. But in context and in the hands

of Jesus, bread still could be a glad and wonderful

blessing as the disciples were finding in that

post- resurrection experience as they enjoyed the

bountiful breakfast their risen Lord provided.

Actually on that particular occasion the bulk

of the meal appears to have been provided by fish

which the disciples themselves had just caught,

with Jesus’ help. But what was that help? Did he

make fish appear where there were none -- an

external provision? Or did he sharpen and guide

their sensibilities so that they might better

perceive and harvest fish which were already there?

Impatience, the wrong kind of aggressiveness,

annoyance, and other such factors can so cloud the

mind and get in the way that even a skilled

fisherman can come up empty. Was Jesus showing them

what was on hand for them to harvest? Was He

rousing and directing their observations and

thinking? For that matter, was he quietly

suggesting how Abba might continue to provide them

with their daily bread? “Look about you. Discover,

appreciate, harvest and enjoy what is on hand. It’s

a gift. Enjoy and share it,” is the message. Wise

shamans from so-called primitive tribes in distant

rain forest and desert places are often better able

than we are to hear and heed that suggestion.

How often do we need nourishment? Daily. So,

too, with forgiveness. “Lord, how often am I to

forgive my brother if he goes on wronging me?”

asked Peter. “As many as seven times?” Jesus

replied, “I do not say seven times; I say seventy

times seven.” (Mt 18:21-22) Actually “daily” is

the answer to that question also.

Actually the word “forgive” does not occur in

any of the resurrection accounts. But then, it

didn’t have to. That reality permeated every event

and suffused every action as the Risen Lord met the

defectors. He came not to condemn them as they

deserved, but to free them from their past. He

treated them as the beloved whos He faithed them to

be. And that was how they were to faith one

another.

Forgiveness is how the Who reaches out to a

failed, disconnected and often hurtful who

particularly one who has injured another who.

Forgiveness refuses to react to an injury. Instead

it reaches through the injury to the perpetrator.

All failures and injuries are deliberately set

aside, all barricades are gotten out of the way

because forgiveness is characteristic of the Who

who believes in each perpetrator no matter what he

has done. Forgiveness works on faithing’s

affirmative premise that hidden in every adversary

is a potential colleague. That’s where the appeal

is directed and why: each and all of us have been

created to be Who-colleagues -- designed and

equipped to work with the Who and with one another.

But is forgiveness something which we are

expected to produce in, of, or by ourselves? I

don’t think so. It’s one of the consequences of our

co-thinking with the Who. The statement: “Forgive

us our sins, for we too forgive everyone who does

wrong to us” cannot mean “Since we are forgiving

those who do wrong to us, please indicate your

approval of the good example we have set by

forgiving us.” That would be to suppose you and I

of and by ourselves are able to forgive which all

too easily turn out to be my solipsistic’s self’s

most arrogant claim. It’s “hubris” having an attack

claiming that my self by itself can be

righteousness. Now there’s an exhausting demand.

For me I have to admit, it’s also an impossible one

because the fact of the matter is that I am not a

forgiving person -- at least my solipsistic self

isn’t. I tend to be a nit-picking, accusatory,

hypercritical perfectionist. I make demands of

myself and others. Approval is something to be

earned. As for forgiving, that’s something I resent

being asked and expected to perform. But then

that’s not where it comes from. It’s part and

parcel of the new and different ways of thinking

which we see in Jesus. It reaches behind the deed

to seek out the doer. My going that way comes as a

result of co-thinking in partnership with the Who,

who allows me to “hitchhike” on His initiative. I

sort of ride along on his way of thinking. The Who

invites me to join in his quest for whos His way.

This is as freeing as it is enabling. It makes

every forgiving action something realistically

attainable. It’s a consequence of co-thinking

rather than an impossible demand expected of my

solipsistic self. That would defeat me before I

could even get started. It’s Jesus who gets me

started and who keeps me going. He also supplies

the forgiveness itself. He’s the source. It’s sort

of like spending someone else’s money, which is

exactly the option presented in one of Jesus’

parables.

It’s the story about a king who was settling

accounts with his servants one of whom owed him ten

thousand talents of silver. How that was an

enormous sum. A “talent” was a seventy-five pound

chunk of pure silver shaped like a crescent moon

for easy carrying. Ten thousand of those would

amount to some seven hundred and fifty thousand

pounds of silver! No wonder the man is desperate!

He has no means to pay that back. But “the master

was so moved with pity that he let the man go and

remitted the debt.” (Matthew 18:27) That meant the

forgiven debtor went away an immensely wealthy man,

a multi-billionaire, though, of course, it was the

King’s largess he was enjoying!

“But no sooner had the man gone out than he met

a fellow servant who owed him one hundred denarii.”

(Matthew 18:28) Now the denarius was a Roman coin

which contained only 3.8 grams of silver. That’s

quite a contrast, isn’t it? But small as it was,

the denarius represented a standard day’s wage. It

had a buying power adequate to feed an entire

family.

But the three hundred and eighty grams of

silver owed by that fellow servant really were owed

not to the billionaire servant but to the King

himself. After all, it actually was the King’s

money which the now wealthy servant was

withholding. For that multi-billionaire servant to

have forgiven the 100 denarii debt would in effect

have entailed his spending not his own but someone

else’s money, namely the king’s. That was what the

wealthy servant refused to do.

The king not only had demonstrated forgiveness-

in-action he had provided massive funding. The

forgiven servant had enormous wealth to share. So

when the unforgiving servant refused to emulate his

master’s compassionate way of thinking, he was

grasping and holding on to those funds as though he

had earned the right to possess them and they

belonged to him. “Pay me what you owe” he demanded,

and “had him jailed until he should pay the debt.”

The king was furious. “Were you not bound to show

your fellow servant the same pity as I showed you?”

said he to the unforgiving billionaire and

“condemned the man to torture until he should pay

the debt in full.” (Matthew 18:33-34) Jesus’

punchline says it all: “that is how my heavenly

Father will deal with you, unless you each forgive

your brother from your hearts.” (Matthew 18:35)

Forgiveness is an attitude, an approach -- a

way of faithing each person we encounter and

refusing to be deterred by failures, mistakes,

short-comings or injuries. It’s a final appeal to

their who, a vigorous statement that despite the

wrongs that they have done -- or are perpetrating -

- that who-self inside is not trapped or

permanently defined by those deeds. It can change

its mind and enter into a relationship with the who

it is injuring or destroying. Such was the

forgiveness Jesus expressed even as nails were

being driven through his hands and feet even though

the nail-drivers were spiritually anaesthetized and

oblivious to him. They were soldiers performing a

task. They were totally unaware of what they were

doing. But perhaps the Centurion overseeing the

execution got the message. Possibly that was as

part of what led him to the conclusion that “truly

this man was a son of God.” (Mk. 15:39)

Actually the word “forgiveness” does not occur

in any of the resurrection narratives. It doesn’t

have to. That reality permeates every event and

suffuses every action as Jesus meets person after

person. It is the central theme and dominant

characteristic of his triumphant intervention.

Never does he give them the condemnation they

deserve. Always he treats them as the beloved whos

he faiths them to be.

In no way did Jesus’ forgiveness depend on what

the soldiers or disciples or anyone else did. It

was not elicited by their repentance or contingent

on their good behavior. It was a free gift. It came

out of who he was; it flowed from the depths of his

being and nothing could stop that gift as it

reconnected Him with them and reunited them to Him.

What did they do? Nothing. They could just be

themselves. That was all that was needed for his

grace to fill them -- their honest undisguised

actuality -- their emptiness. Then Jesus’ reality

could connect with theirs conveying the deep

healing of each relationship which forgiveness

brings.

After breakfast Jesus spoke privately with

Peter: “’Simon son of John, do you love me more

than all else?’ ‘Yes, Lord,’ he answered. ‘You know

that I love you.’” (John 21:15) Three times Jesus

asked the same question, three times Peter

responded as before. However, on this reading I

noticed a footnote, which indicated an alternative

translation for Peter’s response: “You know that I

am your friend.” That rang bells.

Back I went to the Greek text. Sure enough, in

all three of his responses Peter used “philein” the

passionate, personal term of affection, although in

his first two questions Jesus used “agapas,” the

reverential term for “love.” However Jesus changed

and used “philein” when he posed the question that

last time: “’Simon son of John, are you my friend?’

‘Lord,’ he said, ‘you know everything: you know I

am your friend.’” (John 21:17)

There was the missing piece in Peter’s puzzle!

During the last supper Jesus had said: “I call you

servants no longer; a servant does not know what

his master is about. I have called you friends,

because I have disclosed to you everything that I

heard from my Father.” (John 15:15) At that time

Peter was not Jesus’ friend. He was merely his

servant as was evident in the fact that he had no

idea “what his master was about.” Both the Messiah

and the kingdom which Peter was then serving were

constructs of his own imagination. But now, no

longer was he simply a servant; he was truly and

whole-heartedly Jesus’ friend! Now he could be

Jesus’ colleague. Something else also fell into

place-- the concluding section of the Lord’s Prayer

that can be translated either: “Do not bring us to

the test” or “bring us not into temptation.” What

“test”? Which “temptation”? I had long considered

the tests or temptations to be things or persons

“out there” which were bent on seducing or forcing

us to abandon our commitment to work for Jesus.

Intent as I was on analyzing the addictive and

other factors which gave those tests their

seductive and coercive power I became intrigued

with the degrees of difficulty posed by the threats

or inducements as they attacked our various

susceptibilities.

But Jesus’ questions to Peter cut through all

of that complex paraphernalia and got right to the

heart of the matter which was not “out there” in

the things which were happening me or to Peter but

“in here” in the things which were happening j me

and in Peter. That is where who-relationships

arise, where a friend meets a friend. What that

test disclosed was whether my innermost self was

alone and isolated or whether it was engaged in a

working partnership with the Who.

“Friend.” The word itself must be rediscovered

and restored to its full meanings. Jesus reveals

and defines what it means to be a friend: a person

with whom you can talk about anything and

everything; one who is totally trustworthy -- a

confidant with whom you can share everything; one

who is completely with and for you; one who

supports and sustains you in everything you do. In

Jesus God invites us to be his friends by declaring

himself to be ours. Once we decide to be his

friends, then we welcome Him into that innermost

citadel of our secret selves where thinking arises.

Our dialogue with Him displaces our monologue with

ourselves. Together we explore the world around and

the world within ourselves and set about inventing

and ad-libbing our way through life.

But for mutuality to arise each must choose the

other. Jesus long before had chosen Peter; but

until that morning Peter in his heart of hearts had

not chosen Jesus. That was the test. He had failed

it three times in the courtyard; he passed it three

times that morning. The temptation has been to

avoid making that choice; and avoid it he had. Why

co-think with Jesus? As long as the decisions he

made were good and piously intended, who could

fault him? Behold all the good and decent things he

did. Yet Jesus kept knocking at the gates of his

consciousness asking Peter to allow him to come in

and think with him.

Solipsistic thinking presents an ever-present

alternative to co-thinking with Jesus and Abba. And

when our solipsistic thinking is attractively

embellished with pious terms, good intentions and

reasonable explanations) we may delude ourselves as

well as others into assuming that we are thinking

with Jesus. But there’s more to it than that --

there’s the questions of how everything comes

together into a whole that is not only more than

but may even be other than the sum of its

ingredients. For instance it wasn’t the ingredient

of reason that led Jesus to take the path he chose

at Gethsemane. It was his co-thinking with Abba.

As we become friends with Him, as he is with us

and co-thinking becomes a habit, our assignments

deepen; our responsibilities expand. So it was with

Peter. Following each of his responses Jesus

deepened and enlarged his assignment: “Feed my

lambs . . .” “Tend my sheep “feed my little sheep .

. .“ Quoting from Philo, Raymond Brown points out

that “those who feed (boskein) supply nourishment .

. . but those who tend (poimainein) have the power

of rulers and governors. Combined the two verbs

express the fullness of the pastoral task assigned

to Peter.” (p. 1105, R. Brown: John, Vol. II)

Something more happened with and for Peter as a

by-product of that encounter with his Risen Lord.

He discovered who he really was. The evening before

when he had launched that fishing expedition, about

all he knew about himself was that he knew how to

fish. Beyond that he was ashamed, confused, lost

and adrift. About all he could grasp was who he

wasn’t. His solipsistic, idealized self-image had

been completely shattered. His arrogant self-esteem

had totally run out of steam. He was back to where

he had been before he ever met Jesus. Evidently

Jesus recognized that fact. He called him “Simon

son of John” rather than “Rocky” (Petros) the

nickname which he himself had given him. But Jesus

also knew who he was meant to be, and who he could

become once he allowed that interior partnership he

had so long resisted to take control. This time

when as a true friend, Jesus called Peter’s reality

into being, Peter did not resist.

It was a continuing gift, a never-ending

affirmation, a dynamic, living process which would

unfold within him for the rest of his life and

beyond -- the process of becoming who he really

was. And the hazards were many. The whatifier was

always eager to interrupt and interfere and divert

him. Old habits would sneak back and catch him

unawares urging him to regress into the solipsism

which had so long characterized his way of thinking

and living. But somehow when those temptations

occurred I can see Peter pausing to remember Jesus’

question that morning: “Are you my friend?”