Where is Peter?: Palm Sunday reflections

Reflection for Christ Church Uniting, 10 March 2024

with Matthew 16:21–23 and ‘Wandering Heart’ by A Sanctified Art

Through Lent we have been hearing Peter’s story of life with Jesus.

And yet, today, Peter is not mentioned by name.

Where is Peter?

Our artist, Lisle Gwynne Garrity, has painted two faces of Peter in an attempt to depict ‘eyes glazed over’ with some lack of understanding during the parade, on the left, in front; and behind, on the right, ‘Peter stands aghast’ in a glimpse to the future and his reaction at the empty tomb.

‘His disciples did not understand these things at first, but when Jesus was glorified, then they remembered’ (John 12:16).

Garrity asks of John’s version of the story in the foreground today, ‘Is Peter at the parade? Does he lay down his cloak and follow the others? Does he sing songs of loudest praise? Or is he lost in the cacophony of the crowds, confused by and afraid of what is taking place? Maybe he is thinking about the blur of events in the days just before: Lazarus raised from the dead, Jesus anointed in Bethany, the crowds knocking down their doors, the plot to kill Jesus and Lazarus swelling like a darkened, fast-approaching sky.’

As you hear the story, have heard Peter’s stories these past weeks, which possibility arises for you, for where Peter, how Peter, is today, when Jesus rides a donkey into the city?

I remembered

I’m going to take one of those possibilities we might have imagined, and tell that story of Peter.

We had been at Bethany again; crowds following us everywhere we went, stirred up into frenzies of hysteria for the healer, the exorciser, the teacher I had come to know and love as friend, to trust as embodiment of Holy One Themself.

The leaders were threatening to kill Lazarus now, too. Their fear sending an electrical charge through the crowd that amped up the hysteria.

The plots to kill Jesus, of course we were aware of them. Jesus himself had spoken of his death; of being bread we would eat – if you can imagine! Of being lifted up. We hardly understood what all that could mean. If the stories tell us Moses did not ‘die’ but ascended to heaven, why would Jesus equate his lifting up with death? And then to also claim to be Son of Humanity, Son of God, Messiah?

I trusted him, but all that turned me inside out.

So I stopped thinking about it at all, and focused on here and now. That, I could understand.

And it made sense to me that when Jesus entered the city, it would be something of an event, an arrival. Crowds were following him already, of course, and there were also crowds gathering in the city for the festival; the atmosphere built to crazy, almost euphoric, excitement. When people heard Jesus was heading into the city, some started pulling down branches from palm trees and waving them, forming a kind of guard of honour around him and us. Someone started a chant – Hosannah! Hosannah! Hosannah!

Blessed is the one who comes in the name of Holy One! They cried.

Blessed is the king of Israel!

Oh, yes! This was more like it. James, John, Judas, all of us were pumped at this claiming of Jesus as king! Hosannah! We joined in the cries, took the branches people offered us, sang the prophet’s affirmation loud! Blessed is the One who comes in the name of Holy One! Blessed is our king!

This was the messiah the prophets foretold. This was the change the stories anticipated – ride into town and kick out the oppressors! A new reign, at last!

Ooh, let’s get a horse for you to ride on, I turned round to Jesus. A HORSE! I had to shout right into his ear. A king should enter in style.

But Jesus caught sight of a young donkey, and went and sat on that.

I’ll ride this, he said.

You’ll ride that? John told him he thought he would squash the poor thing. James thought he would squash his own dignity.

Jesus met our discouragement with his own quote from the prophets:

‘Do not be afraid, daughter of Zion,

Look, your king is coming,

riding on a donkey’s colt.’

And he turned the beast onto the road, and continued on the way into town, the crowds cheering with delight, amusement, but hardly any understanding.

And I thought, Oh-kaay … he’s still saying ‘king’ … but the bottom had fallen out. I felt hollow all of a sudden. The shouts of the crowd became a dull hum. The world started to blur. I stood still. Frozen in incomprehension.

This is not triumph.

Days later – days that felt like years – I stood before an empty tomb. And then, then, I remembered.

I remembered ‘I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live.’

I remembered Lazarus walking out of his tomb.

I remembered ‘When you have lifted up the Son of Humanity, then you will realise that I Am; that I do nothing on my own; the One who sent me is with me, has not left me alone.’

I remembered my I will lay down my life for you. I remembered three times I do not know him. I would always remember that cock crow.

I remembered I am your Way to Holy One. I am truth. I am life.

I remembered I am not alone. Holy One is with me, and I am with Holy One.

I remembered we will not leave you alone.

I am coming to you.

I will love you.

We will make our home in you.

I remembered abide in me.

I remembered you see me now, but for a while you will not. I remembered, and then, you will see me again.

It was after the procession and all that followed that I again remembered my own words, remembered my trust in him: ‘Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life.’ I remembered, ‘We have come to believe and know that you are Holy One of God.’

You are Holy One.

But while the crowds chanted Hosannah!, proclaimed Jesus to be the king I wanted him to be, I stood still, my body knowing what my mind did not yet understand:

That he will leave us

That he will come again

And until then, I woke as from a dream, and ran to catch up with the tail of his parade.

Amen.