to the armies of spies whom Annas had set on His track, watching His
actions, reporting His words. Was not this examination of the prisoner
a confession that the close scrutiny to which He had been subjected for
so long had failed to elicit aught on which a criminal charge could be
based? Jesus knew that His most secret words had been tortured in vain
to yield an accusation against Him. How great then was the hypocrisy
which could feign ignorance! How evident it was that Annas was only
intent on inveigling his prisoner to say something on which to base his
after-accusation.
All this was implied in our Lord's noble and transparent words. We
shall see that He adopted another tone when He was properly arraigned
before the assembled Sanhedrim; but in this more private, injudicial,
inquisitorial interview, with one scathing rebuke He tore away the
cloak of assumed ignorance with which this crafty man veiled his
sinister purpose, and laid His secret thoughts open to the gaze of all.
For the time Annas was silenced. He had made small headway in the
informal examination of his prisoner, and he now gave it up. Whatever
resentment he may have felt at our Lord's answer he carefully
concealed, biding the hour when he might vent the vials of his hate
without stint.
We must not suppose there was any anger in that long-suffering heart
toward this judge. He was even then about to die for _Him_, and to
bear the guilt of the very sin He so pitilessly exposed. But surely it
was the part of love to show Annas what he was, and to utter words of
rebuke in which, as in a mirror, his secret thoughts might be revealed.
But if, in the moment of His humiliation, Jesus could thus search and
reveal a man, what will He not do when He is no longer prisoner, but
Judge? Oh, those awful eyes, which are as a flame of fire! Oh, those
awful words, which pierce to the dividing asunder of the joints and
marrow, and discern the thoughts and intents of the heart! What wonder
that men shall at last call on the rocks to hide them from the wrath of
the Lamb! Kiss the Son, lest ye perish from His presence, when His
wrath is kindled but a little! Blessed are they who can stand before
Him without blame!
Then followed one of the grossest indignities to which our Lord was at
this time subjected. On speaking thus, one of the officers, in the
spirit of that despicable flunkeyism which will sacrifice all nobility
and self-respect to curry the flavor of a superior, smote our Lord with
a rod, saying, "Answerest thou the high priest so?"
When afterward they came around Him to mock and smite, He answered
nothing; but when this first stroke was inflicted the Master said
quietly, "If I have spoken what is false or unbecoming, prove that I
have done so; but if you cannot, why do you strike Me? No one has the
right to take the law into his own hands, much less a servant of the
court."
It is impossible not to recall the mighty utterances against the
resistance of wrong, spoken from the Mount, in the Messiah's manifesto:
"I say unto you that ye resist not evil; but whosoever shall smite thee
on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also." Clearly our Lord did
not literally do so in this instance, because He saw an opportunity of
revealing to this man His true condition, and of bringing him to a
better mind. Our bearing of wrong must always be determined by the
state of mind of those who ill-use us. In the case of some we may best
arrest them by the dignity of an unutterable patience, which will bear
to the utmost without retaliation--this is to turn the other cheek. In
the case of others we may best serve them by leading them calmly and
quietly to take the true measure of their crime. In all cases our
prime consideration should be, not what we may be suffering, nor the
utter injustice which is meted out to us; but how best to save the
evil-doer, who is injuring his own soul more fatally than he can
possibly injure us, and who is sowing seeds of harvest of incredible
torture to his own conscience, in the long future which lies behind the
veil of sense.
If only we could drink in the pure love of Jesus, and view all wrong
and wrong-doers, not in the light of _our_ personal interest, but of
_their_ awful condition and certain penalty; if only we could grieve
over the infinite horror of a warped and devil-possessed soul, drifting
like a ship on fire before the breeze, straight to the rocks; if only
we could see the wrong done to our Father God and His sorrow, we should
understand Chrysostom's beautiful comment on this scene: "Think on Him
who said these words; on him to whom they were said; and on the reason
why they were said; and, with Divine power, they will cast down all
wrath that may arise within thy soul."
XXVI
How it fared with Peter
"Peter stood at the door without. Then went out that other disciple,
which was known unto the high priest, and spake unto her that kept the
door, and brought in Peter."--John xviii. 16.
Remember that this very circumstantial account was given by one who was
an eyewitness of the whole scene; and who, withal, was then and in
after years the warm friend and companion of Peter. But his love did
not lead him to conceal his brother's sins. Peter himself would not
have wished him to do so, because where sin had abounded, grace had had
the greater opportunity to super-abound.
At the moment of the Lord's arrest, all the disciples forsook Him and
fled. "The Shepherd was smitten and the flock scattered." Two of
them, however, speedily recovered their self-possession, and followed
at a distance, eager to see what would befall. When the procession
reached the palace gate John seems to have entered with the rest of the
crowd, and the ponderous, massive doors closed behind him. On looking
round for Peter he missed him, and concluding that he had been shut out
and was still standing without, he went to the maid that kept the
wicket-gate, opening in the main entrance doors for the admission of
individuals, and asked her to admit his friend. She recognized him as
being well known to the high priest, and readily assented to his
request.
A fire of wood had been hastily lighted in the open courtyard, and cast
its rays on the chilly April night; so that whilst Jesus was being
examined by Annas the men who had taken part in the night adventure
were grouped around the fire, discussing the exciting incident, with
its moment of panic, the case of the arrest, the hurt and healing of
the ear of Malchus, the seizure of the rich Eastern dress from the
young man whom they had encountered on their homeward march. Peter did
not wish to be recognized, and thought that the best way of preserving
his incognito was to put on a bold face and take his place among the
rest as though he, too, had been one of the capturing band, and had as
much right to be there as any other of that mixed company. So he stood
with them, and warmed himself.
Meanwhile, the doorkeeper, leaving her post, came to the fire, and in
its kindling ray her eye fell upon Peter's face. She was surprised to
see him there, feigning to be one of themselves. If, like John, he had
gone quietly into some recess of the court, and waited unobtrusively in
the shadow, she could have said nothing. In her kind-heartedness she
would have respected them both; for she knew that they sympathized with
the arrested Nazarene. But to find him there talking and acting as
though he had no personal interest in the matter was so unseemly and
unfit that she was provoked to expose him. She looked at him
earnestly--as another evangelist tells us--to be quite sure that she
was not mistaken; and feeling quite certain in her identification, said
abruptly, "Art _thou_ not one of this man's disciples?"
Peter was taken off his guard. If he had been arrested, and taken for
trial, he would no doubt have played the hero--he had braced himself up
for that; but he had not expected that the supreme trial of his life
could come in the question of a servant-maid. It is so often thus. We
lock and bolt the main door, and the thief breaks in at a tiny window
which we had not thought of. We would burn at the stake; but in an
hour of social intercourse with our friends, or a trivial business
transaction, we say the word which fills our life with regret.
Confused at the sudden pause in the conversation, and the turning of
all eyes toward himself, Peter's first impulse was to allay suspicion,
and he said bluntly, "I am not." Such was his _first_ denial.
After this, as Matthew and Mark tell us, he went out into the outer
porch or gateway, perhaps to avoid the glare of the light and the
scrutiny of those prying eyes. He remembered afterward that, at the
same moment, a cock was heralding the dawn--the dawn of the blackest,
saddest day that ever broke upon Jerusalem, or the world. But its
warning notes were just then lost on him; for there another maid,
speaking to some male acquaintances, pointed him out as one of the
Nazarene's friends. "This man also was with Jesus the Nazarene."
Probably no harm was meant, but the words alarmed Peter greatly, and he
denied, as Matthew says, with an oath, "I know not the man." This was
the _second_ denial.
An hour passed; Peter, as we learn from the twenty-fifth verse, was
again at the fire, and it was hardly possible for him to talk in a
large company without unconsciously, and by force of character, coming
to the front and taking the lead. His perturbed spirit was perhaps the
more vehement to drown conscience. But now he is challenged by many at
once. They say unto him, "Art not thou also one of His disciples?"
And another saith, "Of a truth, thou wast with Him"; and another, a
kinsman to Malchus, and therefore specially likely to remember his
relative's assailant, saith, "Did I not see thee in the garden with
Him?" Beset and badgered thus, Peter begins to curse and to swear,
saying, "I know not the man of whom ye speak." When men lose their
temper, they drop naturally into their native speech; and so, as
Peter's fear and passion vented themselves in the guttural _patois_ of
Galilee, he gave a final clue to his identification. "Thou art a
Galilean, thy speech betrayeth thee." And again he denied with an
oath, "I know not the man." This was his _third_ denial. And
immediately the cock crew.
It may have happened that, at this moment, Jesus was passing from Annas
to Caiaphas, and cast on Peter that marvellous look of mingled sorrow
and pity, of suffering more for His sake than his own, and of tender
allusion to the scene and words of the previous evening, which broke
Peter's heart, and sent him forth to weep bitterly.
The light was breaking over the hills of Moab, flushing with roseate
hues the marble pinnacles of the temple, whilst the city and
surrounding valleys were still shrouded in the grey gloom, as Peter
went forth alone from the high priest's palace. Only those whose last
words to the beloved dead were rude and thoughtless--not expecting that
there would be no opportunity to unsay them and ask forgiveness, but
that, ere they met again, death would have sealed in silence the only
lips that could speak words of relief and peace--can realize just what
Peter felt. Did he know Him? Of course he did, and ever since that
memorable hour, when Andrew first brought him into His presence, he had
been growing to a more perfect knowledge. Did he love Him? Of course
he did; and Jesus, who knew all things, knew it too. But why had he
acted thus? Ah, the reasons were not far to seek. He had boasted of
his superiority to all his brethren; had relied on his own braggart
resolutions; had counted himself strong because he could speak strongly
and loudly when danger was not near; had thought that he could cope
with Satan, though arrayed in no stronger armor than that which his
red-hot impulse forged. He thought his resolutions wheat and his
Master's cautions light as chaff; he had to learn his weakness and see
his confidence winnowed away as clouds of chaff while Satan sifted him.
The resolutions of the evening are not strong enough to carry us
victoriously through the morning conflict. We must learn to watch and
pray, to lie low in humility and self-distrust, and to be strong in the
grace which awaits all tempted ones in God.
And where could Peter go to weep his bitter tears but to Gethsemane!
He would surely seek out the spot where his Master's form was still
outlined in the crushed grass, and his tears would fall where the
bloody sweat had fallen but a few hours before. But how different the
cause of sorrow! The anguish of the blessed Lord had none of the
ingredients that filled the cup of Peter to the brim! And all the
while the memory of that sorrow, of those broken cries, of that coming
and going for sympathy, of those remonstrances against his senseless
sleep, and of that last tender, yearning, pitiful look of love, came
back on him to arouse successive surges of grief. Contrast Christ's
love with your ingratitude, Christ's constancy with your fickle
devotion, Christ's meekness to take the yoke of His Father's will, and
your unwillingness to bear His cross of shame, and ask if you, too,
have no cause for tears like those that Peter shed.
It is remarkable that Peter should have fallen here. His open,
ingenuous nature was not given to lying, his impetuous character was
not prone to cowardice. Accustomed from boyhood to meet death in the
wrestle with nature for daily sustenance, he was not subject to the
apprehensions of a nervous dread. None of his fellow-disciples would
have expected the rock-man to show that he was clay or sand after all.
But this was permitted that we might learn that our noblest natural
qualities as much need to be dealt with by the grace of God as our
vices and defects. Many a fortress has been taken from a side which
was deemed impregnable. No one expected that Wolfe would assail Quebec
from the Heights of Abraham.
How often we have fallen into the same trap! We have, perhaps, been
thrown into a company where it was fashionable to sneer at evangelical
religion, and we have held our peace; where the ready sneer was passed
on those who dared still to believe in miracle and inspiration, and we
have been silent, where condemnation has been freely passed on some man
of God whom we owned as friend, and knew to be innocent, and we have
not tried to vindicate him; where some great religious movement in
which we were interested was being discussed and condemned, whilst we
have coolly joined in the conversation as if we had not made up our
minds, or were totally indifferent. We have been unwilling to be
unpopular, to stand alone, to bear the brunt of opposition, to seem
eccentric and peculiar. Let those who are without sin cast their
stones at Peter; but the most of us will take our place beside him, and
realize that we, too, have given grief to Christ, and grave cause to
His enemies to blaspheme.
But, be it remembered, the true quality of the soul is shown, not in
the way in which it yields to temptation in some moment of weakness and
unpreparedness, but in the way in which it repents afterward. Do we
weep, not for the penalty we dread, but because we have sinned against
Christ? Are we broken down before Him, waiting till He shall restore?
Do we dare still to believe in His forgiving and renewing grace? Then
this is a godly repentance, which needs not to be repented of. These
are tears which His love shall transform to pearls. How different this
to the attitude of a Judas! Each fell; but in their demeanor afterward
the one was shown to be gold, silver, precious stones; the other wood,
hay, and stubble.
How may we be kept from falling again?
(1) Let us not sleep through the precious moments which heaven affords
before each hour of trial; but use them for putting on the whole armor
of God, that we may be able to stand in the evil day.
(2) Let us not cast ourselves needlessly into situations where our most
cherished convictions are likely to be assailed by wanton men; though
if God should lead us there we need not fear, for it will be given us
in the same hour what to answer. Take care of warming yourself at the
world's fire.
(3) Let us keep within the environing presence of our Lord. It is
always right to do right; always safe; always blessed. Satan can only
hurt us when he allures us out of that safe hiding-place. Never
forsake the things which are pure, and lovely, and of good report.
You, in Jesus, shall yet overcome the world if you refuse to allow the
world to come between Him and you.
XXVII
The Trial before Caiaphas
"Annas had sent Him bound unto Caiaphas the high priest."--JOHN xviii.
24.
It was as yet but two or three o'clock in the morning. Jerusalem was
still asleep, and well it was for the foes of Jesus that no suspicion
of what was on foot had breathed into the minds of the crowds of
pilgrims; for, had the Galileans only known what was being done to
their favorite prophet, they would have risen, and the plot must have
miscarried before Jesus was handed over to the Romans. But, as the
Lord said, "It was their hour and the power of darkness." The darkest
hour before the dawn!
When Annas had completed his preliminary inquiry he gave orders that He
should again be bound with the thongs of which He had been relieved,
and led to that part of the palace specially used by Caiaphas, who was
High Priest, but a mere puppet in the hands of the wily Annas. By this
time the leading Pharisees, Sadducees, and priests, had been got
together, summoned by special messengers; and though the formal meeting
of the Council was probably not held till a little later (compare Matt.
xxvi. 57 with xxvii. 1, 2), the trial was really conducted at that
untimely hour, and the evidence procured on which final action was
taken.
They awaited the Prisoner in one of the larger halls of the palace,
sitting in Oriental fashion on cushions and pillows, in a half-circle,
with turbaned heads, crossed legs, and bare feet; the High Priest in
the centre, the others, on either side, according to age.
All the rules of justice were violated. The judge was chief
inquisitor; witnesses against the prisoner were alone summoned; and the
Court set itself from the first to get evidence to put the accused to
death.
Ever since Jesus had commenced His ministry it had been certain that He
would have to face some such tribunal as this. His soul was aflame for
Righteousness and Truth; it was inevitable that He should come into
conflict with these representatives of a traditional and external
religiousness, which consisted in a number of formal rules and rites
from which the life had long since fled.
This Gospel specially narrates the progress of the quarrel in the holy
city. As far back as ch. ii. 18 we are told that there had been an
altercation on the Lord's right to cleanse the Temple.
Ch. iv. 1-3.--He left Judaea because of the irritation of the Pharisees
at the numerous baptisms which were taking place under His ministry.
Ch. v. 18.--He was only at the beginning of the second year of His
ministry, and had just healed the impotent man at the pool of Bethesda,
and we find the Jews consulting how they might kill Him, and He was
compelled again to retire from Judaea.
Ch. vii. 19.--Such was the spirit of vindictiveness excited against our
Lord that when twelve months afterward He came to Jerusalem at the
Feast of Tabernacles, one of His first words was, "Why go ye about to
kill Me?" The people were well acquainted with the designs of the
rulers (vers. 25, 26); and ultimately officers were sent to arrest Him
(vers. 30, 32).
Ch. viii. 59.--They were so exasperated with His words that they took
up stones to stone Him.
Ch. ix. 34.--They excommunicated the blind man because their hated foe
had cured him, and he in his favor had dared to protest.
Ch. x. 31.--The Jews (and the Apostle always uses that word of the
Sanhedrim and their allies) took up stones to cast at Him; and in verse
39 we read that they sought again to take Him; but He escaped out of
their land to Perea, where He remained until the message of the sisters
called Him from His retreat.
Ch. xi. 47.--The raising of Lazarus produced such an effect that a
special council was called to consider what should be done, with the
result that from that day they took counsel to put Him to death.
Ch. xii. 10.--Their malignity was so great that they consulted whether
they should not put Lazarus to death also; because by reason of him
many of the Jews went away and believed in Jesus.
It was all this that made them fall in so eagerly with the proposal of
Judas that he should betray Him unto them.
Now at last they had Him in their power, and their object was to
convict Him of some crime which would justify the infliction of the
severest sentence of the law. To preserve the appearance of justice,
witnesses were called to testify to some action or speech which would
involve blasphemy against their law, and, if possible, against the
Roman law as well; and it was necessary that two of them should agree
in some specific charge. The chief priests, and elders, and all the
council, Matthew tells us, sought for witness against Jesus to put Him
to death. They brought forward many, but either their charges did not
reach the required degree of criminality, or the clumsy witnesses,
brought hastily forward, undrilled beforehand, broke down so grossly in
their story that for shame's sake they had to be dismissed.
At last two witnesses appeared who seemed likely to agree on a very
momentous charge. They said they had heard Him utter, more than two
years ago, words which seemed to threaten the very existence of the
temple. But, when more closely questioned, their witness also broke
down utterly. It seemed as though Jesus was not to die, except on His
own testimony to His own supreme claims. All lesser counts failed.
All this time, as witness after witness was brought in, our Lord
maintained an unbroken silence. He seemed as though He heard not, but
was absorbed in some other scenes from those transpiring around. What
need was there for Him to interpose, when all the charges proved
abortive? He was, moreover, waiting till the Father gave Him the
signal to open His lips.
At last Caiaphas could restrain his impatience no longer; he sprang to
his feet, and with unconcealed fury fixed his eyes on Jesus and said:
"Answerest Thou nothing? Hast Thou nothing to say, no question to put,
no explanation to offer as to what these witnesses say?" Jesus quietly
returned the look, but held His peace. There are times when it is
treason to hold our peace, when God demands of us to raise our voice
and cry like a trumpet. But when it is clear that high-handed wrong is
bent on securing the condemnation of the innocent, and that the case is
prejudged, it is the highest wisdom to be as a lamb dumb before its
shearers, and not open the mouth.