Sermon by the Rev. Andrew S. Rollins

Easter Day (April 16, 2006)

Text: Mark 16:1 - 8

Title: ". . and Peter"

Breakdown!

I have figured out why Mark is my favorite gospel. In Mark's gospel, all of the disciples flunk discipleship -- every single one. Matthew, Luke, and John present the disciples in a better light. But in Mark, they go from bad to worse. They don't understand the parables, even the easy ones. They misinterpret the miracles. When they should be at peace, they're afraid. When they should be faithful, their hearts harden. And when they should stand with their Lord, they turn tail and run. To a man, they flunk discipleship. But Peter, the lead disciple, is the biggest flunky of them all. At the end of the day, Peter looks worse than even Ciaphas or Pilate. After all, they didn't know Jesus personally. They never publicly vowed loyalty and friendship to Jesus. Peter did.

As Mark tells the story of the last hours of Jesus' life, the last we see of Peter is in the courtyard of the high priest. After Jesus' arrest, Peter follows close behind, right up to the fire where the temple guards are warming themselves. There by that fire, right outside where Jesus is facing his enemies, Peter is asked three times if he is a disciple. Three times Peter denies any connection to Jesus. After the last denial, the cock crows twice and Peter realizes just how hard he has fallen. Our last shot of Peter is of him falling apart.

Mark writes: And he broke down and wept. He broke down. (Remember Tom Petty: "Breakdown.") He became completely undone. Unglued. After that, Peter doesn't reappear. There's nothing more to say about Peter. He had his chance. He made his choices. Peter has no future as a disciple. He's left there weeping there in the courtyard. The curtain falls on him . . . shamed . . . bawling . . . alone.

Who is Peter? Peter is any man who has shocked himself with his own screw-up. (That's the original Greek: 'screw-up.') For the moment, just consider Peter in all his manliness and testosterone. Peter is any man who has ever said to himself, "I just can't believe I did that."

I had a friend in seminary. He was a real man's man: marathon runner, rugby player, loud laugh, full of bluster, lots of fun to be around, but tough. For his chaplaincy training, he was assigned to an Emergency Room for a summer. The first day he was there, a doctor introduced him to a patient with an open wound. At the first sight of blood, my friend's eyes rolled back in his head and he fell flat on his face. Out cold. He was so embarrassed. And it kept happening. Every time he saw blood, his legs went out from under him and he FELL HARD.

Peter fell hard. Peter is any person who has had a night they'd like to forget. (Perhaps you've had a night you'd like to forget.) I mean the night that proves that you're really an imposter, a fraud, a fake, a failure. It might be very public. The night that got you on the evening news. (I serve on the Commission on Ministry where we interview candidates for the priesthood, go through all their records and backgrounds. You might be surprised at the number of people who have spent a night in jail.)

Or, the night you'd like to forget might be one that is your own little secret. Only you know.

We begin every eucharist service with the Collect for Purity which begins, "Almighty God, to you all hearts are open, all desires known, and from whom no secrets are hid." You'd think we could begin a service with more affirming and comforting words! ". . . and from whom no secrets are hid." That is terrifying! That's why Peter broke down. He knew that Jesus knew! Even if no one else knew. Jesus knew. Jesus knew all about it. That's terrifying.

That's Peter. 1) He shocked himself with this own screw-up. 2) He had a night he'd like to forget.

That probably includes a lot of people in this room. (It certainly includes me.)

This being Easter morning, we hear the account of the Empty Tomb from the Gospel of Mark. Easter Morning. The Resurrection. The greatest day in the church year. It is enormous. Grand. Magnificant. But I want to turn your attention to something small. In his telling of this event, Mark includes two words (two little words) that none of the other three gospel writers include. (See if you hear them.)

At the empty tomb, the three women are told: Do not be alarmed; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised; he is not here. Look, there is the place they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you.

(Did you hear them?) The words 'and Peter' are in no other gospel besides Mark: But go, tell his disciples and Peter . . . . Just a little detail. Just two words: . . . and Peter. Do you think those two little words matter? They matter if you're Peter.

. . . and Peter . . . that's personal forgiveness -- by name -- not forgiveness 'in theory.' . . . and Peter . . . After those three denials, perhaps Peter needed special assurance that he had not been cast off by Jesus. . . . and Peter . . . Those two words reveal the heart of Jesus. Jesus will not cast you off, despite your screw-up. Maybe those two words are there for you, too.

Mark knew what it was to really screw up. In his early days, Mark had been an up and coming disciple. Lot's of promise. He traveled with the big names, Peter and Paul. But, at one point, Paul refused to take Mark with him any longer because had had, at Pamphylia (the Book of Acts says), deserted them. Paul didn't want him on board anymore. So they parted company (Acts 15:37f.). Mark knew what it was to really screw up.

I have to wonder if Mark includes this detail about Peter in his gospel because he had sympathies with the disciple who had screwed up the biggest. People who have fallen hard often have a heart for others who fall hard.

Recalling your own 'breakdown', your own 'night in jail', your own 'little secret', I hope that you can hear Good News in those words from Mark's gospel: But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee. This Easter morning, I pray that those words sound to your ears like they must have sounded to Peter. The Good News is for you too.

The gospel is not simply that God loves you. The gospel is that God demonstrates his love for you in that while you were still a sinner (at the moment when you were in the midst of your breakdown, on that night you want to forget, in the darkest corner of your life . . . right there) Christ died for you! That's the gospel! That's the gospel for you. For me.

And Peter.