A Good Friday Meditation

Dear Musing Meanderers:

I’ve mentioned before how I seldom provide my sermons in print. This is due primarily to the fact that I believe oral and written communications are very different dialects. What listens well seldom reads well, and vice versa. But from time to time, I believe some sermon or meditation lends itself to essay form; such is the case with my Good Friday meditation from our ecumenical service this past April 18 at Plymouth Place.

What follows is a textual re-working of my remarks that evening. I trust it’s readable and is of some edification to you as you reflect on this year’s Holy Week.

Hoping the spoken word translates, I remain,

With Love,
Jonathan Krogh
Your Pastor


La Grange Ministerium Ecumenical Worship
Good Friday Meditation 2025

There’s a little detail that hadn’t caught my eye before in John’s account of Peter’s first denial. It’s like a hidden Easter egg, only to be recognized by the reader who is combing the text for some extra insight into the writer’s intent. 

We know about Peter’s pledge of undying loyalty when Jesus was heading with the disciples into the Garden of Gethsemane. Preparing them for the inevitably long night and day ahead, Jesus tried to explain how his path was going to be far more than they could possibly endure.

Peter, always ready to overpromise, announced to Jesus how the other disciples may abandon him, but Peter would not. According to Luke and John, he dutifully pledged his allegiance: “The others may fall away, but I will not fall away,” boasted Peter. “I will follow you to prison—even death.”

We then also remember Jesus’ prediction. All four Gospels concur that Jesus dismissed Peter’s confident assertion, predicting he would deny him not once, not twice, but three times. All this would happen, said Jesus, before the dawn’s crowing of the rooster. Mark remembered that the bird needed to cock-a-doodle-doo two times; he tosses in the first squawk between the first and second denials. But all four Gospels agree that Peter asserted his cocky courage, then cackled his contradiction, and the rooster crowed his condemnation.

Rivers of ink have been spilled on Peter’s denial, sermon after sermon highlighting the inevitable infidelity of the human spirit, leaving Jesus to be isolated in the hour of his death. Preachers linger over Peter’s subsequent self-loathing, followed by the post-resurrection brunch, sharing grilled fish, while Jesus grills Peter about the limits of love.

All this we have heard before. Good Fridays everywhere will detail how Peter is a stand-in for our cowardice, our shaky faith, our frightened abandonments. All this will contrast the restoration that Easter brings: Peter, finding reconciliation not with Jesus but with himself. 

But on this night—this Good Friday night, I want to point out Peter’s other denial, his obvious collateral denial; because Peter not only pretended to not know Jesus, he also pretended he had no association with the other disciple.

It’s there buried in John 18, starting with verse 15: 

Simon Peter and another disciple followed Jesus. Since that disciple was known to the high priest, he went with Jesus into the courtyard of the high priest, 16 but Peter was standing outside at the gate. So, the other disciple, who was known to the high priest, went out, spoke to the woman who guarded the gate, and brought Peter in. 17 The woman said to Peter, “You are not also one of this man’s disciples, are you?” He said, “I am not.”

There’s Peter and the other disciple who knew the high priest—they were on such good terms that the woman at the guardhouse just waved him through. I imagine this disciple turned to say something and realized Peter was still on the outside of the gate. Going back, he talks to the security guard and vouches for Peter; he uses his clout to get Peter his own backstage pass. As Peter walks through, the lady in the security office asks if Peter also knows Jesus. “You are not also one of this man’s disciples, are you?” she inquires. It’s not an accusation, not a threat, just a question regarding Peter’s affiliation. Peter not only denies his association with Jesus, but he also disowns his affiliation with the other disciple, the one who just did him a favor by comping him into the Jesuspalooza.

It hasn’t been 10 hours since Jesus gave his Maundy Thursday command: “A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another,” ordered Jesus. “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” Never mind loving one another, Peter couldn’t even muster a passing acquaintance with the disciple who helped him get past the guardhouse. Yes, Peter denies Jesus two more times, but in those moments it’s just him, alone with his accusers. In this first denial Peter crosses a line; it makes the other two so much easier.

I believe we get it backwards. We think if we love God first, then that love will grant us the capacity to love others. But here with Peter’s denials, we see how it may be the other way around. Failing to openly love his fellow disciple quickly eroded his capacity to show his love for Christ. 

My simple thought is this: 

  • The more we deny people, 

  • the more we deny even those who are close to us, 

  • the more we’re willing to ignore our loved ones, our colleagues, our neighbors, 

  • when we turn a blind eye or a clenched fist to those around us, 

  • when we refuse to care for them, to speak to them, or even acknowledge them, 

  • the more we allow our cold and stony hearts to isolate and insulate ourselves from the most basic of human connection...the easier it becomes to deny Christ.

God help us through this night. Amen.