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Mark 14:17–31 Like the disciples, we pledge allegiance to Jesus. Yet without knowing or intending it, we desert Jesus every day.
‘Surely, not I?’
Lent is dark. It begins with dark ashes reminding us that we are dust and that we are sinners. It ends with the suffering, death and burial of Jesus. Some relive these events by extinguishing candles at Tenebrae (Latin for “darkness”) services on Good Friday.
Lent is long. The liturgical calendar gives us 40 days in which to remember Israel’s 40 years in the Sinai wilderness and Jesus’ 40 days in the Judean desert. The wilderness experience is not the destination but a sojourn of preparation. This long, dark season prepares the church for the joyful season of Easter.
Holy Week, the darkest part of Lent, can also be the most uncomfortable. The discomfort arises not so much because of the horrific passion of Christ, but because of the utterly disappointing character of the disciples. The story may remind us of our own disappointing attempts at discipleship.
In Mark’s account, when Jesus announces that one of his closest friends will betray him, the disciples all “began to be distressed and to say to him one after another, ‘Surely, not I?’” Apparently not even one among them is sure of his allegiance to Jesus.
“Surely, not I?” they say. And surely there should be no question mark at the end of their words. Yet there it is, in our text, on the lips of the twelve, and, if we’re honest, also stirring in the dark corners of our own hearts. If we read carefully, we should find ourselves, just like the disciples, at the edge of our seats, awaiting anxiously the master’s answer to our question.
Jesus says, “Truly I tell you, one of you will betray me ... you will all become deserters” (vv. 18, 27). Jesus’ prediction implies that all already are guilty of disloyalty. It makes the disciples face their insecurities and doubts about their relationship with him. Reading these words makes us uncomfortable too. We know that at the end of Lent someone is going to suffer. And Jesus is telling us that all of us are responsible.
Later in the story Peter replaces his question (“Surely, not I?”) with a pledge so emphatic it sounds like it should end with an exclamation point: “Even though all become deserters, I will not ... Even though I must die with you, I will not deny you” (vv. 29, 31). All the others join in this refrain, drowning out their previous uncertainty.
Betrayals and denials
It would be nice if the story ended here. But we know that in a matter of several verses, one of the disciples will betray Jesus with a kiss, and Peter will betray him with not one but three denials. All of them will desert Jesus and flee for their lives.
Throughout this entire sequence of events, the troubling questions about the character of Jesus’ disciples refuse to go away. On Good Friday, as Jesus desperately seeks the familiar faces of his 12 disciples in vain, he lifts his head to pose his question to the winds: “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” He cries out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” which also means, “My disciples, my church, why have you deserted me?”
An honest question mark
“Surely, not I?” During Lent and always the answer to this question is a sad “yes.” God’s Word allows no comfort on the road to Golgotha. Mark’s telling of the story helps us to understand that the shortest distance between us and Calvary is an honest question mark. For we too, like the disciples, proclaim Jesus and pledge allegiance to him. Yet without knowing or intending it, we betray and desert him every day.
We know that the one we betray forgives us for doing so. We know God’s grace infinitely outweighs any self-doubt, any betrayal, any desertion, any sin and guilt. There’s no need to pretend perfect faith or shy away from questions or doubt.
But that confidence in God’s grace lies properly on the other side of the cross, on the other side of the grave, on the far side of Easter. On this side of Easter Sunday, during the dark days of Lent, let us hold the question in our hearts, with honesty and in a spirit of confession. Let us resist the urge to replace the question mark so quickly with a self-righteous exclamation point—something Peter had to learn the hard way.
The story of Jesus’ 12 disciples is our story too. Their question is our question: “Surely, not I?” |
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