and extort from His own lips the charge on which to condemn Him; but he
was evidently reluctant to do it, and only availed himself of this
process as a last resource. It was well known to this astute and
cunning priest that Jesus on more than one occasion had claimed, not
only to be the long-expected Messiah, but to stand to God in the unique
relationship of Son. Nearly two years before, He had called God His
own Father, making Himself equal with God (John v. 18); and again,
comparatively recently, at the Feast of Dedication, He had claimed that
He and the Father were one; in consequence of which the bystanders
threatened to take His life because that, being a man, He made Himself
God (x. 31-33). Gathering, therefore, the two claims in one, and in
the most solemn form, putting Jesus on His oath, the High Priest said
unto Him, "I adjure Thee by the Living God, that Thou tell us whether
Thou be the Christ, the Son of the Blessed?" (Matt. xxvi. 63; Mark xiv.
61). There was no need for further hesitation. Charged in this way,
in the highest court of His nation, and by the representative of His
people, He could not hold His peace without inconsistency with the
whole tenor of His life and teaching. John, representing His disciples
and friends, must be assured that his Master did not vacillate by a
hair's-breadth at that supreme moment. Those high officials must
understand, beyond the smallest possibility of doubt, that if they put
Him to death He would die on the supreme count of His Messianic and
Divine claims; and, therefore, amid the breathless silence of the
court, without a falter in the calm, clear voice, Jesus said, "I AM."
The Father that sent Him was with Him; He had not left Him in that
awful moment _alone_, and it was a great pleasure to the Saviour to be
able publicly to avow the relationship, which was shedding its radiance
through His soul. Then, with evident allusion to the sublime vision of
Daniel, he added, "Ye shall see the Son of Man sitting at the right
hand of power, and coming with the clouds of Heaven." Though Son of
God, He was not less the Son of Man; and though one with the Father,
before the worlds were made, was yet prepared to exercise the functions
of the expected Prince of the House of Israel. This is the force of
_nevertheless_ in Matt. xxvi. 64--"I am Son of God: _nevertheless_, ye
shall see the Son of Man sitting on the right hand of power."
The words were very grateful to the ears of Caiaphas and his
confederates, as they afforded ground for the double charge they
needed. For a man to claim to be Son of God would make him guilty of
blasphemy, and he must be put to death according to Jewish law; whilst
if there was a prospect of his setting up a kingdom, the Romans'
suspicions would be at once aroused. But in their glee at having
entrapped their victim they must not forget to show a decorous horror
of His crime. In well-assumed dismay the High Priest rent his clothes,
saying, "He hath spoken blasphemy: what further need have we of
witnesses? Behold, now ye have heard the blasphemy." And then came
the decisive question which the judge was wont to put to his
co-assessors, "What think ye? And they all condemned Him to be guilty
of death."
Then ensued a brief interval, until the early formal session of the
Sanhedrim could be held: and during this recess the disgraceful scenes
were repeated which had already taken place in the hall of Annas. Luke
tells us that the men that held Jesus mocked Him, beat Him, and asked
Him to prophesy who it was that smote Him. Matthew adds that they spat
in His face. But Mark lets in still more light on the horror of the
scene, when he appears to distinguish between _some_ who began to spit
on Him, and to cover His face, and _the officers_ who received Him with
blows of their hands. And the expression some occurs so immediately
after the record of their condemning Him, that the suggestion seems
irresistible that several of these reverend dignitaries did not
hesitate to disgrace their grey hairs in personally insulting the meek
and holy sufferer, venting their spleen on one who gave no show of
retaliation, though one word from those pale compressed lips would have
laid them low in death, or withdrawn the veil of eternity, behind which
legions of angels were waiting impatient to burst upon the impious
scene. But do not condemn them as though they were sinners beyond all
others; remember that we have all the same evil human heart.
At last the morning broke, and as soon as it was day the assembly of
the elders of the people was gathered together, both chief priest and
scribes; and they led Jesus away into their council (Luke xxii. 66).
This scene had already been so well rehearsed that it probably did not
take many minutes to run through the necessary stages, according to the
precise formulae of Jewish procedure. The method that had already
proved so valuable was quickly repeated. Questioning Him first as to
His Messiahship, Caiaphas, as spokesman to the rest, said formally, "If
Thou art Christ, tell us."
It was a sorry figure that stood before them. Dishevelled and in
disarray, with disordered garments, the spittle still hanging about His
face, and the marks of the awful storm and mental anguish stamped on
every feature, the innate dignity and glory of Jesus shone out in His
every movement, and notably in His majestic answer, "What do you ask
Me? You have no real desire to know! If I tell you, ye are in no mood
to believe! And if I ask you your warrant for refusing to believe, if
I argue with you, if I adduce Scripture to support My claims, ye will
not answer; but though I read the motive of your inquiry, I will give
you all the evidence you desire. From henceforth shall the Son of Man
be seated at the right hand of God."
As to the other charge, involving His Divine nature, the admission of
which involved the crime of blasphemy, they were too eager to wait for
Caiaphas; but with swollen faces, excited gestures, and loud cries,
rising from their seats, and gesticulating with the fury of religious
frenzy, they _all_ said, "Art Thou then the Son of God?" And He said
unto them, solemnly and emphatically, "Ye say that which I am."
Then they turned to one another and said, "What further need have we of
witness? for we have heard from His own mouth." The inquiry was at an
end so far as Jesus was concerned. But they held a further council
against Him, how to construct the indictment which would compel Pilate
to inflict death; for the execution of the sentence of death was kept
resolutely by the Roman Procurator in his own hands.
Finally, as soon as they dared disturb him, they led Jesus from
Caiaphas into the Praetorium, the palace of the Roman governor, who, in
accordance with his custom, had come up from his usual residence at
Caesarea to the Jewish capital, partly to keep order amid the vast
crowds that gathered there at the feast, seething with religious
fanaticism, and partly to try the cases which awaited his decision.
The Jewish authorities anticipated no great difficulty in securing from
him the necessary ratification of the death sentence. It surely would
not matter to him to add another to the long tale of robbers and
revolutionaries which are awaiting the cross, the more especially as
they were able to prefer a charge of treason against the Roman power
substantiated by the prisoner's own admissions made recently in their
presence.
It is an awful spectacle, and one over which we would fain draw a veil;
but let us dare to stay to watch the evolution of the diabolical plot
to the end. This, at least, will become manifest--that Jesus died,
because He claimed to be the Son of God, in the unique sense of oneness
with the Father; that made Him equal with God, and constituted
blasphemy in the eye of the Jewish law. And He who has taught the
world Truth could neither have been a deceiver, nor deceived, in this
high claim.
XXVIII
"Judas, which Betrayed Him"
"Judas, which betrayed Him."--JOHN xviii. 2.
On the Wednesday evening before our Lord died, He supped with His
disciples in Bethany at the House of Simon. Lazarus was there, and his
sisters--Martha, who served, and Mary, who anointed Him beforehand for
His burying. The Master's reception of this act of love, and His
rebuke of the parsimony which sought to check all such manifestations
of devotion, exasperated Judas beyond all bounds; so, after supper,
when Jesus and the rest had retired to their humble lodgment, he
crossed the intervening valleys and returned by the moonlight to
Jerusalem.
At that untimely hour the Sanhedrim may have been still in session,
plotting to destroy Jesus. At any rate, the chief priests and captains
were quickly summoned. Judas may have been in communication with some
of them before; but, in any case, he met with a glad welcome. They
were glad, and covenanted to give him money.
In the word, _communed_ with them, used by the evangelist Luke, it is
suggested that there was a certain amount of bargaining and haggling
before the sum was fixed. Perhaps he wanted more, and they offered
less, and at last he was induced to take less than he had hoped, but
more than they had offered; and the price of betrayal was fixed at
thirty pieces of silver, about 8 pounds, the price of a slave. From
that moment he sought opportunity to betray Him unto them.
At the Passover Supper provided on the next day by Peter and John in
the upper room, Judas must have reclined on the Lord's left, and John
upon His right, so that the beloved disciple could lean back his head
on the bosom of his Friend. When all were settled, Jesus exclaimed,
with a sigh of innermost satisfaction, "With desire I have desired to
eat this Passover with you before I suffer"; and as He uttered the
words, Judas must have felt a thrill passing through his nature, as he
realized more clearly than any around that table, what was approaching.
Evidently, then, the Master had guessed what was being prepared for
Him! Did He also know the share that he had had in preparing it? In
any case, it was clear that, so far from resisting, He was prepared to
suffer. Apparently, He would not take the opportunity of asserting His
claims; but would allow events to take their course, yielding Himself
to the will of His foes!
When He had given thanks, the Lord passed round the first cup; then
followed the washing of the disciples' feet, in the midst of which He
looked sorrowfully toward Judas, exclaiming, "Ye are clean, but not
all"; for He knew from the first who would betray Him. It was with a
strange blending of awe and wonder that the little group saw the dark
cloud of anguish gather and rest on the beloved face when, on resuming
His place, He was troubled in the spirit, and testified, and said,
"Verily, verily, I say unto you, that one of you shall betray Me." The
disciples looked at one another, doubting of whom He spoke, and Peter
beckoned to John to ask. But Judas knew. And when He went on to say,
"The Son of Man goeth, even as it is written of Him; but woe unto that
man through whom the Son of Man is betrayed! good were it for that man
if he had not been born"--again Judas' heart smote him. It may be that
he asked himself whether he might not even now draw back.
For three years he had played his part so well that, in spite of his
constant pilfering from the bag which held the slender resources of the
little band, no one suspected him. His fellow-disciples might contend
for the first places at the table, but all felt that Judas, at any
rate, had a prescriptive right to sit near Jesus. All round, in
sorrowful tones, the question passed, "Lord, is it I?" Each, conscious
of the unfathomed evil of his own nature, thought himself more likely
to be the traitor than that the admirable Judas should do the deed. It
was terrible to know that the Shepherd should be smitten, and the flock
scattered; but more, that the Master would be betrayed by the inner
circle of His friends! But there seemed no reason for challenging His
announcement, backed as it was by a quotation from a familiar Psalm,
"He that dippeth his hand with Me in the dish, the same shall betray
Me." From these words also it was evident that the traitor must be one
of two or three; for only these could reach the common dish in which
Jesus dipped His food.
It became, therefore, more and more clear to Judas, that the Master
knew perfectly well all that had transpired, and he said to himself,
"If He knows so much, it is almost certain that He knows all."
Therefore, partly to disarm any suspicions that might be suggested to
the others if he did not take up their question, partly because he felt
that probably there was nothing to be gained by maintaining his
disguise before Jesus, and being withal feverishly anxious to know how
much of his plan was discovered, he asked, adopting the colder title
Rabbi, rather than that of Lord, as employed by the others, "Rabbi, is
it I?" Probably the question was asked under his breath, and that
Jesus replied in the same tone, "Thou hast said."
Immediately the thoughts of Judas sprang back to the foot-washing, and
all the other marks of extraordinary tenderness with which Jesus had
treated him. At the time he had thought, "He would not act like this
if He knew all." Now, however, he realized that Jesus had acted in the
full knowledge of all that had passed, and was passing in his heart.
It must have struck him as extraordinary that the Master should
continue to treat him thus when He had read the whole dark secret. Why
did He not unmask and expose him? Why not banish him from His company?
Why count him still on speaking terms? Not till afterward was he aware
of Jesus' motive, nor did he detect the loving purpose which was laying
siege to his stony heart as though to turn him from his evil purpose
before it was too late.
Once more the Lord made an effort to prove to him that though He knew
all He loved him still, even to the end. It was the Jewish custom for
one to dip a morsel in the common dish and pass it to another in token
of special affection, so when He had dipped the sop, Jesus took and
gave it to Judas, the son of Simon. He had previously answered John's
whispered question, "Lord, who is it?" which had been suggested by a
sign from Peter, by saying, "He it is to whom I shall give a sop when I
have dipped it." But He did not give the token of love merely as a
sign to John and Peter, but because He desired to assure Judas that,
notwithstanding His perfect knowledge, His heart was full of tender
affection.
But when the sun strikes on a foetid pond, its rays, beneath which all
creation rejoices, bring out the repulsive odors that otherwise had
slept undiscovered; so the love of God is ever a savor of life unto
life or of death unto death, and the very fervor of Christ's love seems
to have driven Judas almost to madness. Shutting his heart against the
Saviour, he opened it to Satan, who was waiting his opportunity.
"After the sop, then Satan entered into him." Instantly the Master saw
the change, and knew that He could do nothing more to save His disciple
from the pit which he had digged for himself. Nothing could be gained
by further delay. Jesus therefore said unto him, "That thou doest, do
quickly."
So carefully had the Lord concealed His knowledge of Judas' real
character that none of those who sat at table guessed the real
significance and purport of His words. For some thought, because Judas
had the bag, that Jesus said unto him, "Buy what things we have need of
for the feast"; or that he should give something to the poor. Only
John, and perhaps Peter, had the slightest suspicion of his possible
errand. The sacred narrative adds significantly, "He then having
received the sop, went out straightway, and it was night"; as though
the black pall of darkness were a befitting symbol of the blackness of
darkness that was enveloping his soul--a night broken only by one star,
when Jesus once more in the garden sought to arrest him with the words,
"Friend, to what a deed thou art come! Betrayest thou the Son of Man
with a kiss?" But that lone star was soon obscured. The cloud-wreath
hastened to conceal it. Head-long and precipitate over every obstacle,
he rushed to his doom, until his career was consummated in the
despairing act which the Evangelist so solemnly records.
The specified fee was no doubt paid to Judas, on his delivery of Jesus
into the hands of the High Priest. As soon as the great doors closed
behind the arresting band, Judas went to some inner pay-office, claimed
his money, and then waited in the shadow to see what befell. Perhaps
he met John; and if so, avoided him. Perhaps he heard Peter deny the
Lord with oaths, and congratulated himself that there was not much to
choose between them. But for the most part his mind was absorbed in
what was transpiring. He beheld the shameful injustice and inhumanity
of the trial. Though he had kissed his Master's face, his soul winced
from the blows and spittle that befell it. Perhaps he had entertained
some lingering hope and expectation that when the worst came to the
worst the Master would use on His own behalf the power He had so often
used for others. But if that thought had lodged in his mind, the dream
was terribly dissipated. "He saw that He was condemned."
Then the full significance of his sin burst upon him. The veil fell
from his eyes, and he stood face to face with his crime in all its
naked horror. His ingratitude, his treachery, his petty pilfering, his
resistence of a love which the strong waters of death could not
extinguish. And the money scorched his hand. A wild and haggard man,
he made his way into the presence of the chief priests and scribes, as
they were congratulating themselves on the success of their plot.
There was despair on his face, a piercing note in his voice, anguish in
his soul; the flames of hell were already consuming him, the thirst of
the bottomless pit already parching his lips; his hand convulsively
clutched the thirty pieces of silver.
"I have sinned," he cried. "I have sinned. He whom you have condemned
is innocent; take back your money, only let Him go free; and oh,
relieve me, ye priests, accustomed to deal with burdened hearts,
relieve me of this intolerable pain."
But they said, with a gleam as of cold steel, "What is that to us?
That is your business. You made your bargain, and you must stand to
it: see thou to it."
He knew that it was useless to parley with them. That icy sarcasm,
that haughty indifference, told him how man must ever regard his
miserable act. He had already refused the love of God, and dared not
expect anything more from it. He foresaw how coming ages would spurn
and abhor him. There seemed, therefore, nothing better than to leap
into the awful abyss of suicide. It could bring nothing worse than he
was suffering. Oh, if he had only dared to believe in the love of God,
and had fallen even then at the feet of Jesus, he might have become a
pillar in His temple, and an apostle of the Church. But he dared not
think that there could be mercy for such as he was. He passes out into
the morning air, the most wretched of men, shrinks away into some
lonely spot, puts a rope around his neck, and dies.
We have been accustomed to think of Judas as one whose crime has put
him far in front of all others in the enormity of his guilt. Dante
draws an awful picture of him as alone even in hell, shunned by all
other sinners, as Turkish prisoners will shun Christians, though
sharing the same cell. But let us remember that he did not come to
such a pitch of evil at a single bound. There was a time, no doubt,
when, amid the cornfields, vineyards, and pastoral villages of his
native Kerioth, he was regarded as a promising youth, quick at figures,
the comfort of his parents, the pride of his instructors, the leader of
his comrades.
During the early years of His manhood, Jesus came through that court
country on a preaching tour, and there must have been a wonderful
fascination in Him for young men, so many of whom left their friends
and callings to join and follow Him. Judas felt the charm and joined
himself to the Lord; perhaps Jesus even called him. At that time his
life must have been fair, or the Master would never have committed
Himself to him. He was practical, prompt, and businesslike, the very
man to keep the bag. But the continual handling of the money at last
awoke within him an appetite of the presence of which he had not been
previously aware. He did not banish it, but dwelt on it, allowing it
to lodge and expand within him, till, like a fungus in congenial soil,
it ate out his heart and absorbed into itself all the qualities of his
nobler nature, transmuting them into rank and noisome products. All
love for Christ, all care for the poor, all thought of his
fellow-disciples, were quenched before that remorseless passion; and at
last he began to pilfer from those scant treasures, which were now and
again replenished by those that loved to minister to the Master's
comfort. At first, he must have been stung by keen remorse; but each
time he sinned his conscience became more seared, until he finally
reached the point when he could sell his Master for a bagatelle, and
betray Him with a kiss.
Alas! Judas is not the only man of whom these particulars have been
true. Change the name and you have an exact description of too many.
Many a fair craft has come within the reach of the circling eddies of
the same boiling whirlpool, and, after a struggle, has succumbed. The
young man hails from his native village home, earnest and ingenuous.
At first he stands firm against the worldly influences around; but
gradually he becomes careless in his watch, and as money flows in he
realizes the fascination of the idea of being a wealthy man. He
becomes increasingly absorbed, until he begins to drift toward a goal
from which in other days he would have shrunk in horror. If any reader
of these words is conscious of such a passion beginning to lay hold of
him, let him beware, lest, like Judas, he be lost in the divers hurtful
lusts which drown men in perdition.
And if already you have been betrayed into sins which would bear
comparison with that of Judas, do not despair--true, you have sinned
against light and love, the eager, tender pleadings of God's love; but
do not give up hope. Cast yourself on a love which wants to abound
over sin, and glories in being able to save to the uttermost.
XXIX
The First Trial before Pilate
"Then led they Jesus from Caiaphas unto the hall of judgment: and it
was early; and they themselves went not into the judgment hall, lest
they should be denied; but that they might eat the Passover."--JOHN
xviii. 28.
There is no doubt that had Pilate been absent from Jerusalem at the
time of our Lord's trial before the Sanhedrim, they would have rushed
Him to death, as afterward Stephen, and have risked the anger of the
Governor. But they dared not attempt such a thing beneath the eyes of
the dreaded Roman eagles. They must needs obtain Pilate's countersign
to their death sentence, and, indeed, consign their victim to him for
execution. The Lord was to die, not the Jewish death by stoning, but
the terrible Roman death of crucifixion.
The day then breaking was that before the Passover. If the order for
execution were not obtained that morning, the case could not come on
for seven days, and it would have been highly impolitic, from their
point of view, to keep Jesus so long in bonds. The national sentiment
might have awoke and refused to sanction their treachery. For the same
reason it was necessary to carry the sentence into effect with as
little delay as possible, or the whole plot might miscarry. Then led
they Jesus from Caiaphas to the official residence of Pilate, which had
been the palace of the magnificent Herod--_and it was early_.
In the palace there was a hall where trials were usually conducted; but
the Jewish dignitaries who had not scrupled shamelessly to condemn
Jesus were too scrupulous to enter the house of a Gentile on the eve of
the feast, for fear there might be a single grain of leaven there, and
the mere suspicion of such a thing would have disqualified them from
participating in the feast. Remember that these men had just broken
every principle of justice in their treatment of Jesus, and now they
palter over minute points of Rabbinical casuistry. So Philip of Spain
abetted the massacres of Alva, but rigorously performed all the rites
of the Church; and the Italian bandit will carefully honor priest, and
host, and church. How well our Lord's sharp sword cut to the dividing
of soul and spirit, in such cases as these: "Ye pay tithe of mint, and
cummin, and anise, and have omitted the weightier matters of the law."
It is an evil day when religion and morality are divorced.
Pilate knew too well the character of the men with whom he had to do,
to attempt to force their scruples, and went out to them; so that for
most of the time his intercourse with Jesus was apart from their
interference and scrutiny. Without much interchange of formalities,
the Governor asked, "What accusation bring ye against this man?"
It was not a little disappointing to their pride to be obliged to
adduce and substantiate capital charges against Jesus, so they replied
in general terms, and with the air of injured innocence, "If He were
not a malefactor, we would not have delivered Him unto thee." It was
as though they said, "There is no need for thee to enter into the
details of this case; we have thoroughly investigated it, and are
satisfied with the conclusive evidence of our prisoner's guilt; you may
be sure that men like ourselves would never come to thee at such an
hour, on such an errand, unless there were ample grounds for it."
But Pilate was in no mood to be talked with thus. He saw their
eagerness to ward off inquiry, and this was quite enough to arouse his
proud spirit to thwart and disappoint them. He knew well enough that
they wanted him to pronounce the death sentence; but he pretended not
to, and said, in effect, "If your judgment, and yours only, is to
settle the case, take ye Him and judge Him according to your law,
inflicting such penalty as it directs."