Mark 14

Mark 14:1-26

XXV “In the house of Simon the leper.”- Mark 14:3. “A large upper room, furnished’’- Mark 14:15. Mark 14:1-26. THE dominant note of this paragraph is emotional. As we read it we are conscious of emotional suspense, suppression, expression, caution, courage. The atmosphere is surcharged with feeling. As we attempt to visualize the scenes, we observe the personalities: the chief priests, scribes, Simon the leper, Mary, Judas, the disciples; and central to them all, Jesus. Watching the faces, and listening to the speech of all, we detect tones which express intense and conflicting feelings; anger and affection, devotion and antagonism, evil gladness and beneficent sorrow. Gathered around the Son of man are foes and friends, all strangely moved.

While the introductory statements give us a glimpse of the avowed enemies of the Lord plotting for His death, the principal interest centers around two suppers; at the first of which Jesus was a Guest, while at the second He was Host. The gatherings were separated by six days. John tells us that the supper at Bethany was six days before the Passover. The definite time note in our story refers to the plotting of the priests and scribes two days before the Passover. The second supper was that of the Passover itself. The end was at hand, and with more or less intelligence, all were conscious of the fact.

Hence the emotional activity. Let this then be the subject of our meditation. Here we see evil emotions in the foes of Jesus; mixed emotions in the friends of Jesus; and pure emotions in Jesus Himself.

Let us look at the foes of Jesus; a group, and a man; the chief priests and scribes, and Judas. As we observe the first group, the chief priests and scribes from this standpoint, watching them in order to understand the emotions that were moving them, we see that they were filled with hatred, that they were conscious of fear, and that they were glad. These three things are clearly manifest in this story.

They were filled with hatred for Jesus. This fact need not be dwelt upon, save as it is important to remember that they did hate Him with a profound hatred, an intense hatred. But there was an element that restrained them, they were afraid. They were determined to do an evil deed, and yet for a moment they were held in check, suddenly into this consciousness of hatred and fear there came a new and unholy gladness.

For what reason were these men conscious of hatred of Jesus? He had rebuked their ideals through the whole course of His public ministry. Ideals are always closely related to conduct; consequently the whole tenor of His teaching had been to rebuke their conduct.

During the latter days of His ministry He had rebuked their failures as shepherds of the people. Functional failure is always related to organic failure. Sometimes the physicians tell us that there is a functional trouble, and not an organic one, and we are always comforted. Yet the physician would admit that functional failure is at least an organic peril. Where functional failure is as pronounced as it was in the case of these men, it is demonstration of organic failure. These men had been compelled, in the whole course of the ministry of Jesus Christ, and superlatively in these closing days, to stand disclosed; unwillingly, but definitely self-confessed as corrupt, as having failed. Their hatred of Jesus was consequently of One Who had revealed their failure.

Mark the high tribute to Jesus which this hatred created. There is no greater compliment that can be paid to a man than to be hated by certain men. The greatness of a man is revealed, not only by his friends, but by his foes. These men who are seen acting with hatred against Christ, by their very hatred were weaving another chaplet wherewith to deck His brow.

They were strangely moved by fear, afraid to do the thing that was in their heart. Read again the statement: “Not during the feast, lest haply there shall be a tumult of the people.” Why should they fear a tumult among the people? They were perfectly acquainted with the fact that the great human conscience, as expressed in the life of the multitude, agreed with the ideals of Jesus, agreed with His condemnation of their own failure. They feared a tumult. And why should there not be a tumult? What is there necessarily evil in a tumult of the people?

Their fear was purely selfish; behind their fear of the people in tumult, there lurked a craven fear of Rome, and of the possible loss of favour, and position. Again, what a high tribute to Jesus, that these men in this hour were afraid of a tumult, which would be inspired by popular love of, and belief in, all that for which He had stood.

The last note of the emotion of these evil men is that they were glad when one of His own number, one of the apostles, told them a way by which they could wreak their vengeance upon Him, and kill Him. It was a gladness born of treachery, gladness in the heart of men who were supposed to stand for the moral instruction and spiritual inspiration of the people. Morality was counted as nothing, in order that their evil purposes might be fulfilled.

Let us now turn to the emotional life of this man, Judas, as it is here revealed. The first note not perhaps quite clearly apparent in the paragraph, but made clear by the paragraph as it is interpreted by statements of the other evangelists, and especially by one illuminative word of John is that of a man whose whole emotional nature was mastered by covetousness. John gives us a revealing word about Judas. Having recorded his enquiry, “Why was not this ointment sold for three hundred shillings, and given to the poor?” he adds, “This he said, not because he cared for the poor, but because he was a thief, and having the bag took away what was put therein.” There is revealed the master motive in the emotional life of Judas. The word covetousness does not startle the human heart. At its mention none blushes, or blanches.

Yet it is the deadliest of all deadly sins. The only word in the Decalogue that brought Saul of Tarsus to conviction of sin, as he himself confessed in the Roman letter, was the word, “Thou shalt not covet.” He who could stand erect in the presence of every other commandment, bowed his head, and knew his guilt when he reached that word. Covetousness is the subtlest sin of all!

Mark the fact concerning Judas. “He was a thief, and he had the bag.” Was he given the bag because he was a thief? No, but because of his capacity in business matters. Undoubtedly everything was orderly in that little company of apostles. It may seem a small thing to say about Jesus, but He is the Author of order. The weakness of Judas lay in the realm of his power. His capacity was the reason of his appointment to the treasurer-ship of the little band; and right at the heart of his power, or capacity, lay his weakness.

This is always so. When the apostle declared in one of his letters, “When I am weak then am I strong,” he declared a great truth which may be expressed in another way, Where I am strong there I am weak. Temptation always lies within the realm of capacity. Financial ability is fraudulent possibility-not fraudulent necessity! It is not necessary for a man with financial ability to be fraudulent, but the capacity creates the possibility. Here, in spite of the brilliant essayists of the past, and the no less brilliant novelists of modern time, Judas stands confronting us, a man mastered emotionally by covetousness, the weakness of his own power and capacity.

Yet as we look at his emotional nature again, the more amazing thing is not that of the covetousness which was the inspiration of his treachery, but that of the callousness which enabled him to so act. Mark the hardening of the nature, the petrifying of the heart! The marvel of it, that any man could have lived and walked with Jesus, and yet have done this deed!

I am impressed, moreover, by the craftiness of the action of this man; cunningly choosing a moment, waiting for an opportunity. An emotional nature, hating; yes, strongly moved, wickedly unrestrained, covetous, callous, crafty. The picture is almost too dark to tarry at the looking.

So we look at the page again, to see this same emotional unveiling, in the case of the friends of Jesus. Here again we have a group and a person; the group of the disciples, and Mary.

Glance at the group of the disciples at that first supper, in the house of Simon the leper; undoubtedly the home also of Martha, Mary, and Lazarus, to whom Simon was himself surely related. The first thing we observe as we look at them is that they were angry exceedingly, and as they thought, righteously so with Mary. Misled by the speciousness of Judas, misunderstanding entirely the action of the woman, they were angry, that in the presence of human poverty and need, there should be this waste. Judas it was who suggested this. In his case the suggestion came out of the thieving instinct of his own heart. He was a thief, and he had the bag.

It was a specious suggestion. In the case of the other disciples, the anger did not arise from covetousness. They thought that theirs was most righteous anger, they were angry with a woman for wasting what might have been given to the poor.

Look at this same group of men once again, at the second supper; no longer glad, but sorrowful, with that poignant sorrow that came out of a great dread. Jesus had startled them by a word, “One of you shall betray Me.” In a moment every man was afraid arid sorrowful; and each in turn asked the question, “Lord is it I?” It was a great moment of emotion; it was a moment of splendid honesty. When Jesus made His statement He forced them as individual men to come face to face with Himself; and the question they asked Him was not, Is it my neighbour? but “Is it I?” It was a moment when every man suddenly woke to the fact that there was within himself-howsoever he hated it-something of the capacity for treachery. We see them there, strangely stirred with sorrowful emotion and fear.

Now let us return to the first supper, and look at Mary. Again the whole picture is one of the emotions. First observe the understandingness of this woman; how she saw and knew, that day, what no apostle saw or knew. She had had previous experiences of very close fellowship with Jesus. Luke records one, John another. The first, recorded by Luke, was in the day of sunshine and prosperity.

He tells the gracious and wonderful story of how, having rendered her share of help in the work of the home, she also sat at His feet to hear His word. In the day of joy this woman had made time for quietness and discipleship, for adoration and listening. She had then found her way to His feet. On a later occasion, as John tells us, when the heaven was black with sorrow, when Lazarus was dead, and in his grave, she found her way to His feet in her desolate anguish, and the sequel is known. Now this was the hour of His anguish, this was the hour of His desolation; and this one woman, of all the group, discovered it. The keen intuition of her heart understood better than any other, all that He was passing through.

Mary, coming with that cruse of precious spikenard, approached nearer the sacred sorrow of the Son of man, than did any other soul, at any period in His ministry. Such understandingness is a rare thing. How few possess it! I sometimes think that the highest thing that pan ever be said of man or woman is that he or she is an understanding person.

Again, she was impulsive. There may be those who think that to be a sign of weakness. Nay, it is a thing of strength! Of course it matters what the impulse is, it may be evil, but it may be good. For a long while we have been suffering from an unholy horror of anything impulsive or emotional. This was an impulsive act, unconventional, uncalculating, and imprudent if you will, on Mary’s part. Of course Judas could not understand this. Even the apostles could not understand it. It was an act born of the prodigality of love, daring not to calculate. No careful, mathematical, mechanical, consideration of how much or how little was this; but the bringing of the most costly gift available, and the pouring of it out upon His head and feet.

This was magnificent impulse; emotion, without reserve; and the deepest value of it was that it brought her into true fellowship with Him, not merely in the sense of understandingness, but in the sense of cooperation. Not idly or carelessly did our Lord utter His words of commendation. Not idly or carelessly did He say to those disciples, “Wheresoever the Gospel shall be preached throughout the whole world, that also which this woman hath done shall be spoken for a memorial of her.” In those words He was revealing a wonderful truth concerning the thing that Mary did. Notice how He brought together, “The Gospel” and “That . . . which this woman hath done.” But six days away from that scene was Golgotha, the unfathomable darkness and mystery of the Cross; and beyond it the light of the Resurrection, and out of these came the Gospel. “The Gospel,” and “That” stand side by side with each other for ever. That keen intuition of love, that uncalculating outpouring of love was Godlike, and an act in fellowship with the act of God, by which a world is to be redeemed. Mary is here to be measured, not by the inspiration of intellectual apprehension, but by the inspiration of a great heart.

Finally, and that with all reverence, let us look at the picture of Jesus presented here. It is purely emotional. In some senses there seem to be no very great things intellectually. There are however three things emotional, which impress me, as I read the story. First, His appreciation of love in the case of Mary; secondly, His reprehension of treachery in the case of Judas; and finally, His preparation for emotional communion between Himself and His disciples in all the coming days, for that is what the institution of the Supper really meant.

First, as I look at my Lord z I am impressed by His appreciation of love. Do not spoil this story by trying to explain away this attitude of Jesus toward Mary. Be simple about it, graphic and childlike, and look at the scene as it really was. They were feasting in the house of Simon the leper. A wonderful hour was that; Martha still serving; Lazarus, risen from the dead, sitting at the board, and the disciples round about the Master, blinded intellectually by the mystery of His recent teaching. Then it was that this woman came with the alabaster cruse.

Note the whispering among the apostles, and the sudden, swift, almost angry protest of Jesus against their whispering. “Let her alone; why trouble ye her?” Do not be afraid to interpret the words of Jesus so. I think His very protest was a revelation of His appreciation of her love. It is very difficult for us to do; but let us try and understand what that action meant to Him. There He was, humanly speaking hemmed in by blind hate; and here was one action of understanding love! There He was, amid the hindering of His activity; and here was one act of help! There was He A in a dark and desolate land; and lo! out of the heart of a woman, a spring of fresh water sprung for the thirsty Christ!

He valued it.

Look at Him again on that second occasion; and again do not rob the story of its force. He knew what treachery lurked in the heart of Judas, and of his arrangements made for His arrest; and He resented it! Try and enter into His feelings here again, so much as may be. Remember His purpose of love, and then see standing in the way of it, this act of hate. Remember His power to help, and then think of this as an attempt to hinder His exercising that very power. Endeavour to apprehend the world-sphere of His benevolence, and then mark how in the highway of its operation, He saw this malevolent action. Then we shall not be surprised at the solemnity of His words, and the emotional anger of His soul, against the act of the traitor.

When the traitor was excluded from the paschal board, He instituted the sacred new feast. The supreme value of the Supper of the Lord is emotional, not intellectual. These symbols reveal no secrets, but they remind us of mystery. Although Mark does not give the full account of the words spoken at this time, we may remember them in this connection. Our Lord said, “This do in remembrance of Me.” The activity of memory produces the renewal of feeling, the reawakening of thanksgiving. The Holy Table is the place of the Eucharist.

The Eucharist simply means the thanksgiving. Christian men and women, who gather around the board, are priests of thanksgiving, offering the sacrifice of praise. Our Lord instituted the Supper with that end in view. Such provision was inspired by emotion. Jesus was making arrangements for the perpetual recurrence of an hour of tryst between Himself and His lovers, in which they should remember Him.

What is the value of that portrait that hangs upon the wall, dear mother, of your son, or of your daughter away in a distant land? It is something that reminds you of him, of her; when you look upon the face, your heart is moved anew. The portrait is not there to instruct your intellect; it is there to touch your emotion. So in this final hour, our Lord instituted this simple Feast, and established a ritual which, whenever it be truly observed, brings Him back to the memory more vividly, and causes an emotional outgoing toward Himself.

How did the Feast end? With twelve men singing, Jesus, and the eleven. “When they had sung a hymn, they went out.” Take the book of Psalms, and read from the one hundred and thirteenth, to the one hundred and eighteenth. They constitute the great Hallel, and from these Jesus undoubtedly sang with His disciples. What is singing but emotional expression?

Oh! the value and the power of emotion. Evil emotion slays the Lord of life and glory! Pure emotion makes possible the saving of the slayers.

Then let us guard our emotions. What masters them? What inspires them? Is it self? Or is it the Christ? If it be the Christ, then let us trust them, and let us obey them. Let us decline for evermore to listen to the mechanical, arithmetical, accurate, prudent, and devilish calculation, that prevents waste! Let us dare to pour out our hearts and ourselves in emotional adoration!

We may say if only He were here to-day to sit with us at the board, we could do it, and we would! Ah He is here to-day, in the person of all who are in distress. Do not let us be afraid of our hearts. Have you found out that you have one? Count this a gain indeed, and follow its dictates.

Mark 14:27-52

XXVI “And Jesus saith unto them, All ye shall be offended: for it is written, I will smite the shepherd, and the sheep shall be scattered abroad. Howbeit, after I am raised up, I will go before you into Galilee.”- Mark 14:27-28. Mark 14:27-52. IN this paragraph we have the record of a series of incidents following each other in close succession. The story is characteristic of the method of Mark in that these incidents are given with great brevity, many details being omitted; and yet with great clarity, in that the central things are made perfectly plain. Jesus and His disciples had joined in singing together the hymn appointed for that Passover feast; the great Hallel, found in our Psalter in Psalms 113-118. We can easily imagine how the last cadences of this song were still in their memory as they left the upper room, and the city, and went to Olivet. Very significant are the final sentences:

“Jehovah is God, and He hath given us light; Bind the sacrifice with cords, even unto the horns of the altar. Thou art my God, and I will give thanks unto Thee; Thou art my God, I will exalt Thee. O give thanks unto Jehovah; for He is good; For His lovingkindness endureth for ever.” They passed from the upper room, and from the city, to the quietude of Olivet. There Jesus told them of His smiting, and of their scattering. They immediately and vehemently protested, Peter being the principal spokesman of their common conviction and intention. Then they went to Gethsemane, and its overwhelmingly solemn events transpired.

The next incident was that of the arrival of Judas, and the arrest of Jesus. This was immediately followed by the action of Peter, in the use of the sword. Jesus protested against the method of the mob, and yet consented to His own arrest. Then the whole company of the disciples forsook Him and fled. Mark adds one incident. A certain young man, probably hot of the company of the disciples, but aroused from sleep in some cottage by the way, as the mob moved along the road back to the city, rushed out after Jesus, covered only with the garment of the night, was seized by the mob, and fled naked.

Here then are seven incidents grouped, massed together; many details found in other Gospels are omitted, but seven incidents constituting a sequence and a unity are given. The key-note of the study is found in the word of Jesus: “I will smite the shepherd, and the sheep shall be scattered.” The final note is found in the tragic declaration, “They all left Him, and fled.”

The dominant note in this particular paragraph is volitional. In our last meditation we considered a section in which the emotional was clearly supreme. Here the Son of man is seen in perfect relation to the will of God, understanding it so clearly that He told His disciples exactly what was about to happen. The Shepherd was to be smitten. He was in such perfect harmony with the Divine Will, that we see Him in communion with God, daring to speak in the holy Presence of His own shrinking from the hour of darkness which He had already declared to be inevitable. We see Him finally in cooperation with that very Will, as He yielded Himself to the people against whose method of arrest He made His strong and urgent protest.

The disciples are seen yielding, retreating, fleeing, because in their case, will was mastered by sight, rather than by faith. Yet once again, the enemies of Jesus are seen working out their choices, following the line of their own will. Finally the will of God is seen triumphing in spite of them, and through them, making their very wrath to praise Him, while the remainder He restrains.

Taking the words of Jesus at the beginning as the keynote, let us consider first, the smiting of the Shepherd; secondly, the scattering of the sheep; and finally, the way of the smitten Shepherd with the scattered sheep.

First then, let us consider the smiting of the Shepherd. Our Lord told these men distinctly what was about to happen: “All ye shall be off ended,” or to carry over the Greek word into the Anglicized form, “All ye shall be scandalized,” that is “All ye shall be made to stumble in Me.” Our Revisers have omitted the words “in Me,” perhaps with good reason; the fact remains however that even if they are not warranted by the text, the thought is present. Our Lord was not rebuking these men; He was telling them a fact. “All ye shall be made to stumble”; not, “All of you will stumble,” as though blame were attached to them. Here was the fact; before the darkness of that night should be dissipated by the dawning of a new day, the whole of them would be scandalized in Him, made to stumble in Him.

Having said so much, He gave the explanation: “For it is written, I will smite the Shepherd, and the sheep shall be scattered abroad.” Jesus was quoting from Zechariah: “Awake, O sword, against My Shepherd, and against the Man that is My Fellow, saith Jehovah of Hosts: smite the Shepherd, and the sheep shall be scattered; and I will turn My hand upon the little ones.” After His perpetual habit, and that of all New Testament writers, He did not quote the actual words of the Old Testament Scriptures; but the spiritual truth was contained in the quotation. He said then, that they would be offended, because “It is written, I will smite the Shepherd”; the smiting of the Shepherd would be the cause of the scattering of the sheep.

He here referred to all that was coming in His own experience, and the experience of His disciples, by the citation of a prophecy, which distinctly declared that the Shepherd of the people should be smitten by the stroke of Jehovah Himself. By that solemn quotation we are admitted to the inner working of the mind of the Lord at that moment. He knew full well, as we have seen in previous studies, that Judas was absent on the nefarious business of bargaining away His life. He saw distinctly, what He had been telling His disciples now for some time, that the end of all must be the Roman gibbet, the Cross. Yet now, in this dark hour, after singing the great Hallel, when His voice had joined the voices of His disciples in the words, “Bind the sacrifice with cords, even unto. . . the altar.” His reference to His coming death declared that He was going, not to the buffeting of humanity’s malice, but to the stroke of God upon His soul, the stroke of Jehovah. As one of the quaintest of old hymn writers expressed it:

“Many hands were raised to wound Him, None would interpose to save; But the awful stroke that found Him, Was the stroke that Justice gave.” However great and profound the mystery, that is what our Lord said as He approached the darkness of Gethsemane. “All ye shall be offended.” Why? “For it is written, I will smite the Shepherd.” Where is that written? In the ancient prophecy. What is the context? “Awake, O sword, against My Shepherd, and against the Man that is My Fellow, saith Jehovah of hosts.” We are thus admitted to the inner consciousness of the Lord, and see Him going, not as a Victim, mastered by human brutality and malice; but as One, walking along the pathway where the severest mystery of pain would be the smiting of the Shepherd, by Jehovah Himself.

Yet, as we thus return to ancient prophecy for the interpretation of our Lord’s teaching, we must include another thing. Hear again this word of Zechariah. “The Man that is My Fellow.” Our Lord then was taking His way toward a smiting which was to be endured in fellowship with Jehovah. Here we are at once reminded of the fact that according to His own thinking, He was not proceeding to an hour in which He would come into conflict with God. He was not proceeding to some mystery of pain whereby He would persuade God to some new attitude of mind and heart and will toward humanity. He was proceeding to an hour in which there would be a strange smiting and mystery of pain, all of which would be in fellowship with God, and would be the outcome of the effect of God’s unchanged and unaltering attitude of love and compassion toward men. “It is written, I will smite the Shepherd, and the sheep shall be scattered. Howbeit,” Here immediately our Lord did that which He never failed to do; He linked the mystery of His passion with the mystery of the power which should immediately result therefrom; He illuminated all the darkness of the coming Cross, by the radiant light of the assured resurrection.

There is not one single occasion when our Lord made a reference to His coming Cross, but that He linked with it a reference to His coming resurrection. Although He faced this strange and dark mystery of pain, outside which we must ever stand in worship and wonder, even though He had to say that He was going to a smiting which should issue for the moment in the scattering of the sheep; yet He immediately said: “Howbeit, after I am raised up I will ‘go before you into Galilee.” The smiting was to be the way toward an appointment and a crowning and a victory. The smiting and the dark hour .would be the prelude to, and the preparation for, a new gathering, in which He would go before them, and lead.

If indeed therefore it be true that at this moment we are admitted to the inner secret of the mind of Christ, we see Him resolutely facing the smiting, understanding that it was a smiting of Jehovah; and yet seeing clearly that by that way He would pass out to a larger ministry, to the ultimate victory upon which His heart was ever set. The most reverent thing we may do is to think of Gethsemane almost in silence, for it was there in that ‘garden that the stroke fell upon Him; it was there that the Shepherd was smitten.

Observe Him reverently, leaving eight of the disciples at the entrance to the garden; taking three of them a little further with Him; and then leaving the three, and going into absolute loneliness. Let us observe two things; His communion with His Father, and His cooperation with Him.

This story of Gethsemane is one of perfect communion. Much has been said of it in criticism by unbelievers, and sometimes by believers themselves. It has been averred by unbelievers, brilliant with the brilliance of mere human intellect, in speaking of this hour, that our Lord here shrank from suffering in a way in which many martyrs have not done.

Is it not rather a picture of perfect communion? Is there any evidence of perfect communion between a soul and God so great, as the fact that the soul says everything to God, of its own shrinking, of its own pain, of its own agony; providing always, that the speech is united with the saying of the one thing that is supreme: Father, Thy will, not mine be done? There is a simple hymn that we sometimes sing.

“I tell Him all my doubts and griefs and fears.” That is perfect communion. If there is one thing God hates, it is to hear a song about resignation, when the heart is hot and rebellious. In such hours, He would far rather hear about our doubts and our fears. Here the supreme picture is that of the Son of man telling God of the shrinking of His own soul, and of His acquiescence in the Divine Will. “Father . . . remove this cup from Me: howbeit not what I will, but what Thou wilt.” That is communion with God!

There was cooperation with God in that very surrender of the will. This is not the picture of a vacillating soul, but that of the soul of the Shepherd, yielded to God, knowing the pain that lay ahead, the mystery, and the darkness; feeling the weight of the stroke as it fell upon Him; resolutely declaring the sense of shrinking; and yet pressing closer, into fellowship with God, and cooperation with Him.

Personally I can go no nearer. The light is

“. . . Too bright, For the feebleness of a sinner’s sight.” It is dark with the darkness of essential light, upon which my eyes cannot gaze. But this I know, according to His own account thereof; in that moment the sword awoke against the Shepherd, and against the Man Who was the Fellow of God.

So we turn from a most incomplete, and yet I trust a reverent glance at the mystery of the smiting of the Shepherd, to look at this scattering of the sheep,

The first evidence of the scattering came when our Lord pointed out the false security which they felt. Peter said, If I must die with Thee, I will not deny Thee; and he meant it; he was perfectly sincere. He never said a finer thing in all his discipleship. When Jesus said to him: Before daybreak thou shalt deny Me thrice; he vehemently denied. When we are inclined to criticize him, and be angry with him, let us never forget that Jesus was not angry, and that no rebuke came from Him. Then bear in mind that these men all said the same thing. We have here, then, personal devotion to Jesus, and confidence in the power of their own will to carry out their devotion to the end. False security was the first evidence of their coming scattering.

The second evidence is found in the Garden itself, when they fell asleep while Jesus prayed. The physical failure resulted from mental dullness, and spiritual weakness. Said the Lord to them, “The spirit is willing,” but He did not say strong. Turn from all the more hallowed and sacred surroundings of this story, and think of it purely upon the human level; then it will immediately be seen that if these men could sleep upon such an occasion, it was due to the fact that they had no adequate conception of that through which their Lord was passing. Their mental dullness was due to spiritual weakness. A woman will watch, not one hour, or one night, but day after day, and night after night; never shutting her eyes, in the presence of some peril threatening her child, tossed with fever; or her loved one in the place of danger.

Yet these men here slept! I do not blame them. I do not think that they could help their mental dullness; I do not think they were responsible for their spiritual weakness; but the fact is patent. That was the second evidence of a coming scattering.

There was a third evidence that flamed out after they had been awakened, having its first manifestation in Peter. His was zeal without knowledge. He made use of the sword in that hour, as our Lord distinctly said, because he did not know the Scripture, and therefore had no true understanding of what his Lord was actually doing. In the moment when Peter used that sword which was intended to be a sign of his own constancy, and an expression of courage; it was really the last proof of his fear. He had not entered into that spiritual realm that is unconquerable, in which his Lord was now abiding, in the full strength of His Messianic and saving work; and he was therefore filled with fear.

Then came at last the flight: “They all left Him, and fled.” If in thinking of the story we are tempted to imagine that Peter led the flight; let us look again more carefully, and we shall find that he was one of the few who did not go altogether. He did follow afar off. That flight of the disciples was inevitable. It was not blameworthy. There was no sin in it, there was no wrong in it. They could not help it, and our Lord knew that, and had told them so; you will all be scandalized in Me.

The only mistake they made, if they made a mistake at all, was that they did not trust His judgment and knowledge of them. It is always easier to bear the Cross when the resurrection light falls upon it. If there were nothing in this Christianity other than the Cross, then men would flee it to the end. There came a day a little later on, when Peter was writing a letter, and he said this: “God . . . begat us again unto a living hope by the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead.” A living hope! There was no hope in their hearts on that night. It was the darkest hour that ever came to human souls, the hour in which Jesus was arrested to be crucified.

It was inevitable that these men should go. The human heart, the human intellect, cannot understand the Cross until it is seen in the transfigured light of the resurrection.

Again let us look at the Shepherd Who was smitten, and the sheep who were scattered. There is nothing more beautiful in the study than to observe His method with them.

Notice first, how He prepared them. He did not expect their fellowship in that garden. He told them so. It was not a telling, born of a sense of superiority, but of an infinite compassion, and a perfect knowledge of their capacity. He prepared them. What a strange thing to prepare men for running away, to prepare men for denial!

Not strange at all, if we know Him. He told them, so that presently, when the inevitable thing took place, they should remember that He had told them. In that hour, coupled with His foretelling of failure, He uttered the prophecy of coming victory. To know all the beauty of this story, read John’s account. Begin in the thirteenth chapter. It is the same story of these events in the upper room.

Peter said, “Lord, whither goest Thou?” Jesus replied, “Whither I go, thou canst not follow Me now; but thou shalt follow afterwards.” Peter said, “Why cannot I follow Thee even now? I will lay down my life for Thee.” Said Jesus, “Wilt thou lay down thy life for Me? Verily, verily I say unto thee, the cock shall not crow, till thou hast denied Me thrice. Let not your heart be troubled; ye believe in God, believe also in Me.” You ask Me where I am going. “I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go . . . I come again, and will receive you unto Myself”; in spite of the feebleness that lurks within you, the weakness that will make you deny Me.

So the story runs on; the Shepherd with the sheep, preparing them, and linking His declaration of their failure with indications of His power; so that presently, in the depth of the agony of failure, they should have something to which they could hold, and be brought back.

“Was there ever kindest Shepherd, Half so gentle, half so sweet?” All this shines out yet again and again in ever increasing beauty as we observe His patience with them. Listen to the gentle reminder to Peter when He found him asleep. “Couldest thou not watch one hour?” That was no rebuke, but a reminder, a reminder of the fact that He had told him so, and that he had vehemently protested against the accuracy of his Lord. “Couldest thou not watch?”

Mark the generous recognition of our Lord in that hour. “The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.” Then consider one of the most beautiful things of all: “And He cometh the third time, and saith unto them, Sleep on now, and take your rest: it is enough; the hour is come; behold, the Son of man is betrayed into the hands of sinners. Arise, let us be going: behold, he that betrayeth Me is at hand.”

If it be read so, what an infinite muddle it is. What difficulties expositors have been put to with this passage. They have said that the Lord came to the disciples the last time, and said satirically, Sleep on! Nothing of the kind! He told them to “Sleep on now”; and they slept; and He watched them while they slept. Between the permission to sleep and the awaking, how long passed we do not know; but certainly some period.

He said, “Sleep on now, and take your rest: it is enough.” He meant, The hour is not come. Judas is not here yet! Sleep on now and get a rest. Then there was a waiting time. Presently He said: “The hour is come; Behold, the Son of man is betrayed into the hands of sinners. Arise, let us be going.” Between the permission to rest, and the awaking, there was something which if I were an artist, I would try to paint.

They could not watch with Him. They were too sleepy. Ah! well, He said in effect: Go and have your sleep out; I can watch; and He watched them while they slept. The smitten Shepherd, the Cross ahead; and yet so patient with the men who could not watch with Him that He let them take their sleep, and watched them! In the face of the Son of God, there was all anguish as He bent in prayer; and the infinite tenderness of motherhood at its best as He watched them. There is nothing more beautiful in all the dark hours than to see Him in Gethsemane watching, while those three were asleep.

Then they left Him, but He did not leave them. So they were never parted from Him, “No one is able to snatch them out of the Father’s hand,” said He.

The great value of this meditation to us is its revelation of the good Shepherd.

Oh! Shepherd true, I may be weak, I shall deny Thee! But let me follow. He will bring me through; for He is the good Shepherd, the great Shepherd, the chief Shepherd.

Mark 14:53-72

XXVII “And they led Jesus away. . . .” Mark 14:53 a. Mark 14:53-72. IN our previous meditation we heard the last cadences of the Hallel sung by the Lord and His disciples; and then passed out with them to the silence of Olivet. We heard His prediction of their imminent scattering; and listened to their vehement protests. Reverently we followed Him into the garden of Gethsemane, leaving eight disciples at the entrance; and three further on, but still far removed from the place of His loneliness. We saw Him in communion and cooperation with His Father, in an experience of unfathomable mystery. We watched as Judas came, and the Son of man was arrested. We saw the flight of the eleven, and of the unnamed young man. Throughout that consideration we were impressed with the grace and glory of the Shepherd.

We are now to consider the last events of that dark betrayal night. The paragraph pulsates with pain, and throbs with fever and unrest.

We see first, the swift gathering together of an illegal assembly. The high priest, the chief priests, the elders, the rulers, and, as a subsequent verse says, the whole council assembled. In other words, the Sanhedrim came together. This was an illegal assembly. The law declared that the Sanhedrim must not meet at night under any circumstances.

The law, moreover, provided that whenever the Sanhedrim met for the purpose of trying a prisoner, they should never pass sentence on the day of trial, but defer it. In spite of this they at once came to a decision that He was worthy of death.

They were evidently ready, waiting, and expecting His coming. They had entered into unholy compact with one of His own disciples to betray Him unto them. They knew full well that Judas had gone with an armed mob to arrest Him. Therefore when He was arrested, they swiftly gathered together in the darkness of the night, in the house of the high priest.

We hear the indistinct, and yet noisy clamour of the witnesses. We do not know whether these witnesses were heard singly, or whether they were all present at the same time. If singly, then the story told by one was contradicted by the next. The picture is more likely one of an irregular session of the court, in which witnesses listened to each other, contradicted each other, and quarrelled.

There was a solemn interval of tense silence in which the high priest addressed himself immediately to the Prisoner, and, according to Matthew’s record, put Him on oath. Mark simply says that he asked Him: “Art Thou the Christ, the Son of the Blessed?” Matthew gives us the form of his asking: “I adjure Thee by the living God, that Thou tell us whether Thou art the Christ, the Son of God.” This was the legal form of administering the oath. Jesus answered; affirming solemnly on oath, that He was the Messiah, and the Son of the Blessed.

Then immediately followed a scene of confusion. The high priest in his wrath again committed an illegal act, in the rending of his garments. A reference to the Levitical law will show that the high priest was explicitly charged under no circumstances of emotion to adopt the heathen practice of the rending of clothes. This act of the High Priest was followed by an outbreak of brutal passion on the part of the members of the Sanhedrim. They spit upon Him, and flung a garment over His face, the symbol of the death penalty; they struck Him, through the garment, and said, “Prophesy . . . who is, he that struck Thee?” “And the officers received Him with blows of their hands.”

In the meantime, in the court beneath, perchance in the outer court, some few steps down from where these events were transpiring, there was taking place the busy gossip of the officers; the soldiers, and the serving maids; and there, in the midst of them, was Peter, warming himself by the fire. There follows the account of his perturbation, of his profanity, and of his denial.

Through all the story, so full of restlessness, fever, and pain, there is one element of strength. It is centralized and glorious in the Prisoner, Jesus. Strength was manifested first in His august and dignified silence; and then in His profound and pregnant speech.

Thus, as we consider the whole paragraph, we feel how full it is of the essential things of human life. Emotion is here, acute and intense; volition is here, fixed and determined. The supreme note, however, is neither emotional, nor volitional; it is intellectual. The question suggested by the paragraph is a question that concerns the inspirations of conduct; the story unveils the reasons of those conceptions of the mind, which express themselves in actual deeds. The matter of vital interest here is that of viewpoint, conception, and outlook. As we look into the inner life of the personalities that pass rapidly before us, while we are conscious of the intensity of emotion, and of the fixity of volition, the most arresting element is that of the revelation of the secret motives and conceptions which produced these effects.

As from that standpoint we look at the paragraph, and at the things that it records, we are inclined at first to say in very deed: “Truth is fallen in the street.” Here the intellect of the age is seen utterly at fault. To quote the words of Paul A written long afterwards to the Corinthian Christians, here the rulers of this world lacked wisdom: “Which none of the rulers of this world hath known: for had they known it, they would not have crucified the Lord of glory.” Here also we see light and love, overshadowed and eclipsed, in the person of the cursing disciple.

The first impression that the paragraph makes is that of truth wounded, beaten down, trampled under foot, violated. Yet we look again, and discover that Truth was never more erect. Behold It first; silent, declining speech, refusing a word, and most eloquent in Its silence. Then hear It, speaking at last; in terms so simple and so definite that there can be no misunderstanding of Its meaning; so, speaking that every lie falls back into shadow, and men are compelled at last to do in the clear daylight, the nefarious deeds they had been trying to perform in the darkness.

From that standpoint of intellect or wisdom, looking at these scenes, we have a revelation first, of debased intelligence in the case of the rulers; secondly, of insulted and wounded intelligence in the case of Peter; thirdly, of victorious and triumphant intelligence, in the case of the Lord Himself.

The fundamental wrong, so far as the rulers were concerned was that the whole case was prejudged. That is perfectly patent. “The chief priests and the whole council sought witness against Jesus,"-by no means to discover the truth concerning Him-but “to put Him to death.” The revelation of some intellectual obscurity or wickedness is obvious. They were gathered together ostensibly for the purpose of investigation; but really they were mastered by one determination; the death of the Man Who was arraigned before them. The inevitable issue of such a gathering would be that of ignorance. Light could not penetrate their minds. They were predetermined to encompass, at all costs, the destruction of the Prisoner at the bar.

Ignorance must be the result of that attitude of mind. There was no room for light. What was said by one and another was contorted, twisted, to the one purpose of putting Him to death.

Let us watch the proceedings, for they reveal some striking facts. These men, mastered by this unholy passion, set upon realizing and encompassing the death of this Prisoner at the bar, were nevertheless compelled to recognition of the rights of truth. Else why should they look for witnesses at all? Why not dispense with a trial, and at once lay violent hands upon Him? No, that even they dare not do. They must seek some accusation which will appear to be true. They must find witnesses; they must have some reason for the thing they do. This was the unconscious compliment which devilish falsehood paid to the ascendancy of truth.

True, there was a ghastly readiness to compromise, to accept as true the basest falsehood, if only it might be made to serve their purpose of having an appearance of truth. Oh! it was an unholy business; it is a terrible picture. Yet it is a wonderful illustration of that marvellous and inherent consciousness of right and wrong, from which humanity never has, and never can escape. Whenever humanity forgets to make its bow to truth, then humanity is entirely and absolutely hopeless.

Only one witness borne against Him has been preserved for us. We do not know what the other witness said. Doubtless the one witness preserved for us is an illustration of their whole attitude of mind. “And there stood up certain, and bare false witness against Him, saying, We heard Him say, I will destroy this temple that is made with hands, and in three days I will build another made without hands.” This is the most diabolical form of untruth, because it is an untruth in which there is an element of truth. We remember Tennyson’s words:

“A lie that is all a lie, may be met with and fought out right; But a lie that is partly the truth, is a harder matter to fight.” There is a sense in which there was not a word of truth in this statement. There is a sense however, in which it was based upon something actually true. Notice in passing, how His words were treasured, not only by those who loved Him, but by those who hated Him. He had in the early days of His ministry, when first He cleansed the temple, said to the men who asked Him by what authority He proceeded: “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.” It was a mysterious saying, not understood by those who heard Him; not understood until after His resurrection even by His own disciples. It was so little understood by the men who heard Him, that they laughed at Him, and said: “Forty and six years was this temple in building, and wilt Thou raise it up in three days?” Now even if, as they supposed, He had referred to the temple in Jerusalem, notice what He said: “Destroy this temple.” There was no Suggestion in His word, that He would destroy it. He was speaking of what they would do, not of what He would do.

Over against their destructive capacities, He placed His constructive ability, “In three days I will raise it up.” The reference, as we now know, was to the temple of His body. They did not know that. But on the ground of their own understanding, mark their remembrance of His words after three years have passed; and observe their distortion of them. Mark twice records the fact that these witnesses failed, and for one reason. Their witness did not agree. There is no harmony in falsehood.

A lie must always be covered by a lie.

“Ah! what a tangled web we weave, When first we practise to deceive.” The men who had been observant of Jesus during the days of His public ministry-not His disciples, but His watchers-had heard His words, and seen His works, and perfectly understood His claim. That is made evident by the form of the high priest’s question: “Art Thou the Christ, the Son of the Blessed?” Why ask that question if they did not understand His claim? Nevertheless, in spite of every word spoken, and every work wrought, they were set upon His murder. Whatever intellectual conviction they might have had concerning the beauty of His words, or the beneficence of His works, such conviction must be debased and refused. Yet, in that ghastly attitude of mind, they made a false appeal to truth; and then with a lie sought to slay the Lord of truth.

Let us take next that which is last in the story, the picture of Peter. We see in Peter a man whose intelligence had been singularly illuminated, and a man who had wonderfully responded to the illumination of his intelligence. What brought Peter to that outer Court? It was the light in his own soul that took him there; and that light was shining with a great brightness. He knew his Master. He knew the insight of his Lord.

That had been his first revelation of Jesus when at the first his brother Andrew had brought him face to face with Christ, and Christ had said, “Thou art Simon, the son of John: Thou shalt be called Rock.” In that moment Peter had discovered in Jesus One Who knew his deepest nature; and ever after He had been patient with him, and had realized the latent capacities of his soul. Peter had not forgotten these things. He knew how for three years the Master had with infinite tenderness borne with him, led him, instructed him, and brought him nearer and yet ever nearer to Himself in love and adoration. Love and adoration in Peter, were the outcome of clear understanding.

We must not forget, nor undervalue the fact, that six months before, Peter at Caesarea Philippi had said exactly what the high priest now asked Him. “Thou art the Christ, the Son of the Blessed.” That light was still shining in the soul of Peter; and he loved his Lord with a love that was the outcome thereof. It was .his love for his Lord that took him into the courts of the high priest.

Peter had followed Him afar off, yet he had followed Him! No other disciple had done this, except John; but John went at no risk, because he was related to the high priest. Peter took great risk when he went.

Neither let us forget that Peter had drawn the sword, and smitten Malchus. The impulse was a right one. Wrong things are done from a right impulse sometimes. Moses was shut out of the promised land because he did a wrong thing with a right impulse. The more clearly we see all this, the more shall we understand the sorrowful thing that took place that day. When Peter denied his Lord, he was insulting his own intelligence. Yet descending to profanity, he took his oath that he did not know Jesus at all.

Let us try to put the doings of these two places side by side. Probably the court, where Jesus stood in the midst of the priests and elders was somewhat elevated, by a few steps perhaps, from “the court beneath,” as Mark says, where the officers and the maid-servants were, and Peter also. In the first false witness after false witness arose; the high priest put Jesus on oath; Jesus took the oath that the confession that Peter made several months ago was true. In the second, there was the clamour of the gossip of the officers, the saucy laugh of a servant maid, as she said to Peter, You belong to them. The great soul of Peter stumbled and fell at the laugh of that serving-maid, and presently he took an oath that he did not know Jesus; Jesus on oath, within; Peter on oath, without. Peter outside, taking his oath that he did not know Him; Jesus inside, taking His oath that what Peter had said in the better hour of his life, was true. The contrast is vivid.

Peter was lying about his faith. He did know Him; more, he wonderfully understood Him. He was also violating his own love. Here was an instance of the contradiction of sinners against themselves. He was wounding his own soul. This must be borne in mind.

Peter’s love for Jesus never failed; his faith in Jesus never failed. Christ had said to him, “I have prayed for thee that thy faith fail not,” and his faith never failed. His hope failed, the light of hope went out; his courage failed; but never his faith, nor his love. Here then, was a man who believed in Jesus, who loved Him with a great heart, or he never had followed Him to that court; denying his faith, and the denial was a lie; denying his love, and the denial was a lie. His own intelligence was insulted; the truth that was in him, and never really destroyed, was flung in the mire.

Yet look again; and mark how that light which was the inspiration of his going to the court, though insulted when he lied, persisted; and at last mastered him. The final thing is not the denial, but the tears. The last phase of the picture is not that of a cursing, profane man; a man made into a coward by the taunt of a servant maid. The last picture is that of a man gathering his garment about him, and hurrying from the first into the darkness of the night; a strong man in tears. Another evangelist tells us that Jesus looked at him. Probably between these two courts, the higher where were the priests, and the lower where were the servants, there was only a curtain which may have been drawn aside, and from within, Jesus looked at Peter.

In the course of a sermon I once heard Father Stanton say something about this very scene, which was very suggestive. Said he: “Never forget that the look of Jesus would have been wasted on Peter, if it had not been that Peter was looking at Jesus.” The look of Peter toward the Lord is a revelation in itself, as surely as is the look of the Lord toward Peter.

I will not attempt to interpret that look of Jesus; but I am quite sure that it did not mean: “I told you so!” Another thing is also certain, though perhaps not quite so patent; Jesus did not by that look say to Peter, What are you doing to Me? Why are you wounding Me? Christ was too selfless to have meant that. I think said to Peter, in His look: Peter, why are you wounding yourself? Then Peter went out and wept. Poets sometimes talk of “blinding tears.” I suppose there are such, but I do not know them. I also have wept. I did not find that tears of this kind were blinding tears; they are sight-giving tears! Charles Mackay’s lines are full of beauty:

O ye tears, O ye tears! I am thankful that ye run; Though ye trickle in the darkness, ye shall glitter in the sun; The rainbow cannot shine if the rain refuse to fall, And the eyes that cannot weep, are the saddest eyes of all.” Peter wept; and his tears were evidences of the answer of his soul to the truth of his faith; and to the love which he had so cruelly insulted and desecrated as he denied his Lord.

Reverently in conclusion, let us look at the central picture. Here is One Who in His intelligence is victorious, though it is a dark, dark hour of apparent defeat. No debasement of intelligence is here; no insulting of intelligence. Truth declines to argue with a lie. The silence of our Lord here, and at other points during this trial, was wonderfully eloquent. The witnesses were lying. The witnesses were distorting His words. What hast Thou to say? said the high priest; and He answered him never a word. Truth is silent in the presence of a lie, because even the truth cannot contradict a lie so as to end it; and also because a lie cannot harm truth in the final issue.

But when He was challenged on oath He answered; and His answer was remarkable in the effect it produced in that court of justice. Said the high priest, “Art Thou the Christ, the Son of the Blessed?” and He said, “I am.” As He said so, He swept away the refuge of lies which they were attempting to make for themselves. Listen to the high priest, “What further need have we of witnesses?” His answer had swept that need away. The answer of Jesus compelled wickedness to act in the light. If they would slay Him, they must do so on the basis of that claim, and not for a false reason. By that one word on His part, His affirmation on oath that He was the Messiah, and the Son of the Blessed; He removed all the false witnesses, and swept away the refuge of lies. For evermore therefore, the murder of the Son of God is seen in all its ghastliness, for they rejected Him for claiming to be that which the centuries have proclaimed Him to be.

Then he added to His claim that further word: “Ye shall see the Son of man sitting at the right hand of Power, and coming with the clouds of heaven.” This was a poetic declaration, borrowed from the prophet Daniel, in which prophecy the Son of man is seen coming, not to earth, but to heaven; coming to sit at the right hand of the Ancient of Days, to be the Ruler of the universe. That is what Christ told these men they should see; not His second advent, but His coming into, and sitting in the place of power.

The last note is that most of help to us. The chief glory of the light in the midst of the darkness, is that of its revelation of the deep-seated love and devotion of a disciple; and the action and grace of the Lord in giving that love and devotion their chance of recovery in spite of deflection. The very last thing in the dark betrayal night is the vision of the tears of Peter! Upon those tears the light of God’s face rises; and they become radiant with rainbow glory, suggesting for evermore to hearts that believe and love, that even though in unutterable folly they deny Him, He .makes a way by which His banished one may return.