I had been telling DeForeest about Jesus from the time he started talking. Now, at age 3, 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” the way 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. Up to this point, 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. It was followed by shock when he learned how Peter’s final denial, according to St. Mark, came with “cursing and swearing” (14:71). 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. 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 at Peter; and Peter remembered” (Lk 22:61). Only then did the words, “this very night before the cock crows, you will deny me three times,” (Mt 26:34) flood into Peter’s memory.

Jesus’ glance was no mournful, pitying gaze as paintings and films often depict it. The word in Greek, enévlepsen (ἐνέβλεψεν) means “to observe intently.” Hearing 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 his own reflection — that 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 the Lord’s 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 for 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.”

“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 has 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 three-year old logic. 

The explanation that the addition would complicate the greeting’s meaning did not satisfy DeForeest at all. He was adamant: “And has appeared to Simon” had been 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. The Lord is risen!” 

My son, his eyes still shut, smiled sleepily. “The Lord is risen, indeed, and has appeared to Simon!” 

Three decades and more have passed. Although now by phone, I still greet my son on Easter Sunday morning with the same message and still receive the same reply.

Thus was born a beloved family tradition, 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 and do likewise” (Lk 10:37).