Peter the Doofus, Part I (Reflections on Maundy Thursday)

Lucas Cranach the Elder (Woodcut, Ger, early 16th Cent.)

…once you have turned back, strengthen your brothers.” (Luke 22:32c)

Peter is such a doofus.

Every year on Maundy (or “Holy” if you prefer) Thursday we get this wonderful reading from John’s Gospel (John 13:1-17, 31b-35) in which Jesus washes the feet of his disciples. Peter plays a big role in this story, and his doofusness is really highlighted. He has to make a big show of his humility. He can’t let his rabbi and master wash his feet. No. He’s got to be the show-off and protest against the indignity of having the boss do the work consigned to slaves, children, or other underlings.

In a way, that’s very respectful of old Simon P. One of my most faithful and conscientious parishioners once caught me in the act of unstopping the church men’s room toilet. “Pastor,” he said, “what are you doing? Let me do that for you. You have too many important things to do than fix and clean the john.” I thought that was very nice of him, but, truth be told, if I’m really going to be a disciple of Jesus and a leader of the congregation, I shouldn’t ask anyone to do something I’m not willing to do myself. Don’t you think?

So Jesus does the slave’s work, and Peter gets all bent out of shape. He doesn’t quite get that in letting Jesus love him through humble service, he will be united with Jesus when he loves others in humble service. No. Peter has to show off how humble he is. He did this before when he told Jesus to depart from him just before he became a disciple (Luke 5:8). When Jesus points out that accepting this act of love is crucial, Peter still has to make a big deal out of it by insisting Jesus wash his hands and head too. But making a big deal out of stuff is what Peter does. Did you notice how he wanted to walk with Jesus on the water (Matthew 14:22-33), or how he wanted to build tents for Jesus and his “guests” on the mount of the Transfiguration (Luke 9:33)? I mean, this guy can never just let Jesus be Jesus. He’s always got to make it about himself somehow.

Don’t you find people like that irritating? It makes you wonder if Peter isn’t kind of insecure or something. What’s he trying to cover up? Why does he always have to go the extra mile? Is he suffering from some sort of feeling of inadequacy?

Of course, Jesus see through him. He sees past all the braggadocio bluster and BS that Peter puts out. And he has faith in Peter, all the same.

You see, this night isn’t going to end well for Simon Peter. He’s going to make some really outrageous claims of devotion and faithfulness to Jesus, and he’s going to bail out on all of them. Before the night is over, he’ll fall asleep when Jesus most needs his company and friendship. He’ll run away to save his own butt when the guards come to arrest his friend. He’ll even claim he doesn’t know who Jesus is. But Jesus already knows this about him.

In Luke’s version of the Passion story, there is a marvelous verse in which Jesus tells Peter that he’s praying for him:

“Simon, Simon, listen! Satan has demanded to sift all of you like wheat, but I have prayed for you that your own faith may not fail; and you, when you have turned back, strengthen your brothers.” (Luke 22:31-32)

Jesus knows how weak Peter is, but he also sees how strong he has the potential to be. He knows Peter is going to screw up. He also knows Peter will “turn back” or come to his true self at some point, and when that happens, he’ll be a leader and inspiration to the others.

In the Maundy Thursday Gospel we see Peter hiding his weakness—just like we all do. I saw a message on a church signboard this week which read: “You aren’t who you think you are. You are who you hide.” I guess we all try at times to hide our fears and the knowledge that we’re really nothing special. We’re all as sinful, as scared, and as mediocre in our own ways as the next person. The good news is Jesus sees past this. Jesus loves us and is willing to wash our feet. He’s willing to do the dirty work for us because we are so beloved by him. And not because of anything we do or say ourselves.

On Maundy Thursday, we are commanded to love the way Jesus loved us, and to come to the table to receive that love. Martin Luther pointed out that the only qualification for getting an invite to this Thanksgiving dinner is to believe that it’s really for us—for YOU, my friend—because Jesus has forgiven all of your shortcomings and loves you for who you are and who you can be.

You are invited because Jesus believes in you.

Come. Eat. Be at peace with yourself. You matter.