“But what about Peter?” asked my son as we drove home from the Easter Vigil Mass.
I began telling DeForeest about Jesus from the time he started talking. Now, at age three, he was becoming familiar with the Gospel and showed interest in its supporting cast. I aided his imagination with occasional vocal characterizations for the various apostles, Pharisees, centurions and townsfolk who wander in and out of the Gospels.
Preparing DeForeest for Holy Week, we went over the events of the Passion, including background on Peter, John and Thomas. As a prelude to Easter, I told of the sisters, Martha and Mary of Bethany, and how Jesus had rescued Lazarus from death — making sure to refer to Martha’s down-to-earth comment about how, after four days in the grave, her brother’s body “must surely stinketh,” as older translations put it. As hoped, I was rewarded with a gale of laughter.
Continuing through the Last Supper and trial, we came to Peter’s denials. DeForeest had known Simon Peter as a rollicking, friendly and loyal companion. Hearing of Peter’s three denials as he warmed himself by the fire in the high priest’s courtyard on that chill spring night, my son grew dismayed, followed by shock when he learned how Peter’s final denial, says Mark, came with "cursing and swearing." Mark took his Gospel from Peter's own preaching, we’re told, so it’s likely that this pungent detail came from the tough-talking apostle himself.
I told DeForeest how Luke, the gentlemanly historian, omitted mention of Peter's rough language but added a wrenchingly poignant incident. Simon Peter's final denial came when Jesus, under guard, was being duck-walked across the courtyard. Luke reveals that it wasn't the crowing of the rooster that reminded Peter of Jesus' prophecy at dinner. It was when "the Lord turned and looked straight at Peter, and Peter remembered" (Luke 22:61). Only then did the words, "Before cockcrow, you will deny knowing Me three times," flood into Peter’s memory.
Jesus’ glance was no mournful, pitying gaze as paintings and films often depict the moment. The word in Greek is ἐνέβλεψεν: “to observe intently.” Hearing Simon Peter’s repudiation, Jesus reacted in a very human way. Paraded past the Galilean fisherman, the Lord deliberately turned round to shoot a sharp glare at His friend. Looking into the eyes of Jesus, Peter saw the reflection of a great, blustering coward.
Overcome with grief and shame, Peter fled, shedding hot, acrid tears. For the rest of his life, he would carry the odious recollection that he denied knowing Jesus to His face.
I told DeForeest the rest of the story, how Jesus was cruelly crucified to reconcile all humanity to God and then, after three days, majestically conquered death as a pledge that we, too, will rise in glorified bodies.
The boy nodded impatiently. “But what about Peter?” he demanded.
I thought a moment, then remembered how Jesus’ Uncle Cleophas and a friend were walking to the village of Emmaus that first Easter morning. They met Jesus on the road in disguise. After the Lord revealed Himself, they dashed back to Jerusalem with the news, “The Lord is risen!” only to hear the apostles reply, “The Lord is risen indeed, and hath appeared to Simon,” noting to DeForeest that “Simon” was Simon Peter.
“Jesus paid him a special visit before appearing to the others, but we don’t know what took place or what was said,” I said.
“Well, I know,” DeForeest declared matter-of-factly. “Jesus visited Peter to let him know that He forgave him for being afraid. Jesus would do that because Peter was His friend.”
From the uncomplicated mind of a child came a deduction worthy of Sherlock Holmes.
I explained how the greeting, “The Lord is risen!” with its Gospel countersign, “The Lord is risen, indeed!” is used in many parts of the world as a greeting during Eastertide.
“Why don’t they add ‘and hath appeared to Simon’?” DeForeest asked suspiciously. “It’s important to remember that Jesus forgave Simon Peter for not being a friend,” he decided with impeccable 3-year old logic.
The explanation that the addition would complicate the greeting’s meaning satisfied DeForeest not at all. He was adamant: “And hath appeared to Simon” had be part of the reply since it is in the Gospel.
Come morning, I leaned over my son’s bed. He stirred. I said, “Good morning, DeForeest. Happy Easter! The Lord is risen!”
My son, turning toward me, his eyes still shut, smiled sleepily. “The Lord is risen, indeed, and hath appeared to Simon!”
Three decades and more have passed. Although now by phone, I still greet DeForeest on Easter Sunday morning with the same greeting and still receive the same reply.
Thus was born a beloved family tradition. Thus began an appreciation of the Easter message of love, forgiveness and reconciliation.
A note to all Catholic parents: Children are never too young to learn about Jesus, their devoted Friend who loves them so much. It’s never too soon to start faith-filled traditions.
So go, thou, and do likewise.
Sean M. Wright is an award-winning journalist and Emmy-nominated television writer. He is a Master Catechist for the archdiocese of Los Angeles and attends Our Lady of Perpetual Help parish in Santa Clarita, He replies to comments sent him at [email protected].
