It seems strange at first sight that our Lord should have introduced
such thoughts then, disturbing the sweet repose of that hallowed hour.
But the terrible fact of the betrayal was naturally suggested by the
emblems of His death, and still more by the very confiding familiarity
of that hour. His household were gathered around Him, and the more
close and confidential the intercourse, the bitterer that thought to
Him, that one of the little band was soon to play the traitor. It is
the cry of His wounded love, the wail of His unrequited affection,
and, so regarded, is infinitely touching. It is an instance of that
sad insight into man's heart which in His divinity He possessed. What
a fountain of sorrow for His manhood was that knowledge! how it
increases the pathos of His tenderness! Not only did He read hearts as
they thought and felt in the present, but He read their future with
more than a prophet's insight. He saw how many buds of promise would
shrivel, how many would go away and walk no more with Him.'
That solemn prophecy may well be pondered by all Christian assemblies,
and specially when gathered for the observance of the Lord's Supper.
Perhaps never since that first institution has a community met to
celebrate it without Him who 'walks amid the candlesticks,' with eyes
as a flame of fire marking a Judas among the disciples. There is, I
think, no doubt that Judas partook of the Lord's Supper. But be that
as it may, he was among the number, and our Lord knew him to be 'the
traitor.'
In its essence Judas's sin can be repeated still, and the thought of
that possibility may well mingle with the grateful and adoring
contemplations suitable to the act of partaking of the Lord's Supper.
In the hour of holiest Christian emotion the thought that I may betray
the Lord who has died for me will be especially hateful, and to
remember the possibility then will do much to prevent its ever
becoming a reality.