I often find myself wondering about the choices made by both the Daily and the Sunday Lectionary, which is probably a good thing. If the choices were obvious to me, I wouldn’t have to think about them. I have noticed, for example that the Sunday Lectionary begins some Advent themes in the weeks leading up to Advent, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that the Daily Lectionary would introduce Lenten themes before Lent.
Unlike the other gospel writers, John narrates Peter’s denial matter-of-factly, with no reference to Peter’s breaking down and weeping. We are left to draw our own conclusions about Peter’s state of mind at this point. Calvin’s comments are typically trenchant:
Peter is introduced into the high priest’s hall; but it cost him very dear, for, as soon as he sets his foot within it, he is constrained to deny Christ. When he stumbles so shamefully at the first step, the foolishness of his boasting is exposed. He had boasted that he would prove to be a valiant champion, and able to meet death with firmness; and now, at the voice of a single maid, and that voice unaccompanied by threatening, he is confounded and throws down his arms. Such is a demonstration of the power of man. Certainly, all the strength that appears to be in men is smoke, which a breath immediately drives away. When we are out of the battle, we are too courageous; but experience shows that our lofty talk is foolish and groundless; and, even when Satan makes no attacks, we contrive for ourselves idle alarms which disturb us before the time. The voice of a feeble woman terrified Peter: and what is the case with us? Do we not continually tremble at the rustling of a falling leaf? A false appearance of danger, which was still distant, made Peter tremble: and are we not every day led away from Christ by childish absurdities? In short, our courage is of such a nature, that, of its own accord, it gives way where there is no enemy; and thus does God revenge the arrogance of men by reducing fierce minds to a state of weakness. A man, filled not with fortitude but with wind, promises that he will obtain an easy victory over the whole world; and yet, no sooner does he see the shadow of a thistle, than he immediately trembles. Let us therefore learn not to be brave in any other than the Lord. (from Calvin’s Commentary on the Gospel of John, my emphasis)
I can find myself in this gospel story, and in Calvin’s comments on it. I can imagine myself far more courageous than I am, or than I turn out to when I am actually in the situation I had imagined. Yet the act of imagining is not useless. I have come to believe that one of the purposes of worship, of hearing and reading Scripture is to ask ourselves “what if?” What would I do in this situation? How could I prepare for it?
I read once about a man who volunteered to be a courier of sensitive documents at the beginning of the Second World War, when of course such documents had to be carried by ship. His supervisor was sceptical of the man’s ability to undertake this kind of challenge; after all, the German U-Boats had been extremely successful in sinking Allied shipping, and it was likely that the young man would either drown or succumb to the icy waters of the North Atlantic. The man replied that he had for the past month been soaking himself daily in tub of ice water, increasing the time each day until he was able to tolerate the bitter cold. His offer to serve as a courier was accepted, his ship was in fact torpedoed, and he survived the frigid waters with his precious documents intact.
Of course none of us knows what we will actually do in an extreme situation; that’s why Peter’s example is worth keeping before us, and Calvin’s counsel that we learn not to be brave in any other than the Lord is good advice. But the “what if” question is still a good one, as John Baillie prays: “do Thou enable me so to discipline my will that in hours of stress I may honestly seek after those things for which I have prayed in hours of peace.” (Diary of Private Prayer, p.135)
Amen.
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