The first ever time he had heard those words they had come from the daughter of Aristobulus, his betrothed. The question threw him. How was he supposed to answer that? How could she even ask him that? He thought it was pretty obvious that he loved her: wasn’t he engaged to her and did he not go out of his way to do things for her and her family to show his suitability as husband and in-law to be? Since she seemed to want a response, he had said, “Yes, I do,” then queried, “Why?”
She had smiled at him then gone back to the pot she was making.
He sighed in frustration; he knew that mannerism, it meant she was not going to say another word on the subject.
Now here he was, many years and many occurrences later, faced with the same question again. Only this time it was not from a woman. It was from a man. Actually He was more than that–He was The Christ, for Christ’s sake! He could not fathom why Jesus would bother with that query. Was it because of the events of that night two weeks before?
It had been the first day of the Passover ceremonies. That evening, the thirteen of them sat upstairs, in the house of one of the city’s leading men, eating. Jesus had without any ceremony announced; one of you will betray me. A deathly silence, filled with sorrow and incredulity, had succeeded that bombshell. Then a dam of questions, denials, affirmations of love and constancy plus reaffirmations had burst. His opportunity had come afterwards on the Mount of Olives. Jesus had made another shocking pronouncement: that the whole lot of them would stumble in their faith that night and subsequently scatter from him. He had declared boldly,
“Everyone else may…but I will not.”
Jesus had replied, “Before the rooster crows, you will say three times that you do not know me.”
After, whenever he thought about it, he could not tell what was responsible for his cowardice that night.
True, he had been terrified. He’d never been that scared his whole life. Usually, he was not one to yield without a fight or to turn away from one. But that night, he’d lost his mooring when he saw the Pharisees and the soldiers arrest The Master–actually, successfully, arrest Him. That had never happened before. He watched the others take off at incredible speeds–one had even run off buck naked when someone had grabbed him, missed and held on to his cloth. He had a premonition then that things were about to get ugly. He had drawn his sword and taken a slash. Yeshua had cautioned him and reattached the ear he had severed.
As he watched the charade of a proceeding from a safe distance, warmed by the fire in the courtyard, he knew things would never be the same. And then a tiny, feminine voice had accused him of being with The Messiah. Without processing it, he had summarily denied it. Two changes of locations later yet haunted by the indictments of association, the cock crowed. His heart broke and he wept out the pieces that morning!
But was it just a case of his own fear taking ascendancy or was it that because He had spoken it had to happen?
Or did the question have to do with last night when he had told the others he was going fishing?
Yes, Mashiach had risen as He said He would and they had all seen Him. But He had been uncharacteristically mute on what was next. And he…well, he was a man of action. So, he had informed the others that he was going fishing. There was something about the sea and the routine of casting nets, waiting, hauling and casting till a catch was made that helped clear his mind and define his thoughts. The truth was that he had not decided if he was going back to a line of work he had once been an expert in but he had known he needed to fish that night. The others had followed him. It had been one unfruitful expedition. And then The Master had shown up in the wee hours of the morning. He’d told them exactly where to cast the net. And while they were struggling with the humongous catch–one hundred and fifty three big fishes–he’d gone ahead to the shore, started a fire and began to make breakfast. The roasted fish and bread tasted heavenly.
He was still relishing the taste and had just let loose a hearty belch when the question came. Not once. Twice! And now He had just asked it a third time:
“Simon son of John, do you love me?” Peter was hurt. Yet he managed to answer,
“Lord You know everything; You know that I love You!”
“Feed My sheep.”
Those were the thoughts on his mind as the sun shone mercilessly on the city of Rome while Roman soldiers drove the nails into his limbs. He was being crucified–upside down. The year was AD 64. It was the occasion of Nero Augustus Caesar’s dies imperii.
photocredit: agreatdream.com
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