We left the last post hanging on the question of whether or not Judas was the only betrayer. I ask that question because I think the story demands we see the tension of another betrayer.
After running from the Sanhedrin’s arrest on the Mount of Olives, John uses his connections with someone, presumably a servant in the High Priest’s household, to get them onto the private grounds of Jesus’s trial. As we’ve mentioned before, it should be noted that Jesus is not standing a public trial in front of the formal Sanhedrin, but is instead being tried informally (and unjustly) by the mafia-style Sanhedrin, meeting at the High Priest’s house. This is clear from the Text.
We are told that Peter is in the courtyard, hanging out with those who are warming themselves by the fire while all the commotion is happening. It’s impressive to consider that John and Peter sneak onto the grounds of this house once we realize they are standing in the home of the “godfather” figure of the corrupt priesthood. As Peter tries to keep a low profile (we have no idea what happens to John), Jesus is persecuted and tried throughout the evening.
As Peter is standing near the fire, he is confronted more than once about his identity; according to one gospel account, he even tries to leave the group and relocate and is still confronted about who he is. Eventually, exactly as Jesus predicted, Peter denies his association with the rabbi on trial inside, and we are told he meets the gaze of Jesus himself as the rooster crows. In an eerie moment of the story, Peter rushes out of the courtyard to his home and proceeds to weep bitterly for what he has done.
Not many of us catch the gravity of what Peter has just done. For a talmid to publicly disassociate with the rabbi is unheard of in rabbinical discipleship — the truest form of a slap to his teacher’s face. In fact, on a lot of levels, if you read this story in context, it is tempting to think Peter’s denial is a much deeper betrayal than that of Judas. Judas made his error while being misguided in his understanding of Jesus’s mission, while Peter refuses to associate with the man at all.
One can see the significance of this moment by watching Jesus’s interaction with Peter in the gospel of John. After the crucifixion, Peter and some of the disciples have gone home and started working. Peter understands that his time as a disciple is done; he has forsaken the rabbi, and this is a cardinal offense.
This is also how the others would have seen it. It is interesting to realize that without the account of John’s gospel, we would know very little about the life of Peter (outside of the book of Acts). All three synoptic gospels allow Peter to be characterized by his worst moment, without ever mentioning his name again. It is only Peter’s best friend, John, who gives us insight into the personal and intimate reinstatement of Peter as a disciple — and as the ring-leader of the the havurah.
Consider this passage from the ending of the gospel of Mark:
But when they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had been rolled away. As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man dressed in a white robe sitting on the right side, and they were alarmed.
“Don’t be alarmed,” he said. “You are looking for Jesus the Nazarene, who was crucified. He has risen! He is not here. See the place where they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter, ‘He is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him, just as he told you.’ ”
Trembling and bewildered, the women went out and fled from the tomb. They said nothing to anyone, because they were afraid.
Go tell the disciples… and Peter.
If the angel doesn’t specify Peter, the women will leave him out, because Peter isn’t a disciple anymore.
Peter has blown it. He made the ultimate mistake.
You don’t come back from denying your rabbi.
And yet, the authors of the gospels are adamant throughout that Peter is not the betrayer — Judas is. I think one of the reasons the gospel writers keep pointing this out is because a typical first-century reader (especially a Jewish reader) is not going to identify Judas as the betrayer, but Peter.
So what is it about Peter and Judas that makes Judas “the one who betrayed Jesus”?
I would suggest it is the way their story ends. They both make huge mistakes. One of them misjudges who their teacher is and what he’s up to in the world. The other disassociates and denies even the slightest connection to their rabbi. Both are wrong.
But one chooses to let his story end there. And one chooses to let himself be reinstated.
I have NO desire for this to become a teaching about suicide. I am trying to speak to the larger, poetic nuances of the story itself. I am trying to speak to the meta-narrative arc of your story and mine — how it fits within God’s bigger story. I have far too many close friends who struggle with clinical depression and battle against suicide. Throwing rocks at those who struggle with such things would be a betrayal of the very story we are reading. And projecting anything other than that onto my words would be inaccurate. I am not making grandiose statements about the choice of suicide or their eternal destination. Not even in the slightest.
But this is a story about hope.
The only true betrayal of Jesus and what he stood for would be to believe there is no tomorrow — to believe there is no coming back from this.
Judas decides his mistakes cannot be overcome. Judas decides his story will end here. Judas decides there is no coming back.
Judas, the one who betrayed Jesus.
But Jesus’s entire ministry has been and always will be about the God of Second Chances. And the God of Third Chances. And the God of Endless Grace and Bottomless Hope.
Peter is willing to walk on a beach with Jesus and face his greatest fears. Peter is willing to stare down his greatest insecurities. Peter is willing to trust that when his rabbi says he’s still worth saving and still fit to feed his sheep — he means it.
And Peter is willing to trust Jesus to give him a new tomorrow.
This story has always been a story about new tomorrows. This story has always been about allowing God to write incredible endings. This story has always been an invitation to trust that God says you have value and acceptance and worth.
This story has always been a reminder that you aren’t defined by your biggest mistakes, your deepest insecurities, or your worst fears.
Your rabbi says that a new tomorrow is accessible for you today. Will you trust him?
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