[ p. 414 ]
THE ARREST
Mt. xxvi. 36-56 ; Mk. xiv. 32-52 ; Lk. xxii. 39-53 ; Jo. xviii. 1-11.
Quitting the sacred precincts, they took their way along the silent streets to the gate of the city. Betwixt the eastern wall and the ascent of Mount Olivet lay the ravine of the Kidron. It was no pleasant “brook,” as our English Version has it, shaded, as the Greek transliteration of the name suggests, by cedar trees. The word rendered “brook” is properly “winter-torrent” ; and the Hebrew name Kidron signifies a dark stream. What darkened it was the draining into it of the blood of the sacrificial victims. In summer-time the bed of the ravine was dry ; but that April night it was flooded with the winter rains, and as the Lamb of God crossed it, the stream was tinged with the blood of the paschal lambs which the previous afternoon had been slain by thousands at the altar in the Temple-court. It was this truly dramatic coincidence that moved the Evangelist to mention the otherwise insignificant circumstance that on His way to Gethsemane with the eleven He crossed the ravine of the Kidron.
It was past midnight, and the city was asleep ; yet their movements were not unobserved. It had of late been increasingly apparent to all who wished Him well how perilous was the Lord’s situation ; and His solicitude for secrecy in arranging that He and His disciples should eat the Passover at their house had [ p. 415 ] quickened the apprehension of Mary and her son John Mark. It was evident that He anticipated trouble; and when the lad went to rest after celebrating the Feast with his own household, anxiety for the Master held him wakeful till he could no longer endure it, and he sprang from his couch to go forth and see if all were well. There was no time for him to don his wearing apparel; nor was it necessary, since the nightdress of well-to-do folk was a loose robe of white linen, quite presentable in public and sufficient for comfort in a mild climate. Thus attired he quitted the house. He knew the Master’s nightly resort: indeed it may be that Gethsemane was Mary’s property ; and he hastened thither. He did not find them there, since they had gone from the Upper Room to the Temple-court; but presently he heard their approaching footsteps, and he concealed himself among the trees of the orchard and lay perdu to observe what might befall.
The eleven were weary, and they would fain after their nightly wont have wrapped themselves in their cloaks and lain down to sleep ; but the Lord knew what was coming, and He had no thought of rest. He would not sleep : He would pray. He needed His Father’s help for the dread ordeal, and He craved also the support of human sympathy; and now as ever He turned to the trusty three. “Sit here,” said He to the others, “while I go and pray yonder” ; and He retired with Peter and James and John to a deeper glade of the orchard. Hitherto for the sake of His feeble disciples He had hidden His own disquietude, but now alone with the three He unburdened His heart. “He began,” says St. Matthew according [ p. 416 ] to our Version, “to be sorrowful and sore troubled” : " He began,” says St. Mark, “to be greatly amazed and sore troubled.” Observe that phrase “sore troubled.” The precise significance of the Greek original is uncertain. One etymological suggestion is that the verb means properly “to be away from one’s people” ; and this accords well with its general use. It is used, for example, of the bewilderment of the soul when it leaves the body and finds itself, “naked and shivering,” amid strange and unaccustomed surroundings. In the New Testament it occurs only here and in that passage of the Epistle to the Philippians (Phil. ii. 26.) where the Apostle, a prisoner at Rome, tells them how the good Epaphroditus, who had brought him their gift and their message of sympathy, had fallen ill, no doubt of the fever so prevalent there in the sultry autumn, and how, thinking of his friends so far away, he “longed after them all and was sore troubled .” So our Version has it, but the circumstances define the Apostle’s meaning. What he says is that Epaphroditus, longing for his friends, was “homesick.”
And this is the signification of the word here. Compassed with malice and menaced by a cruel death, our Lord “began to be amazed and homesick”—sick with longing for the Father’s House and the glory which, ere the world was, He had by the Father’s side. He would soon be there, but between Him and His home lay that dread ordeal which all His earthly days had loomed before Him. And now that it was upon Him, His frail humanity shuddered at the grim prospect. His anguish would have its way, but He would not dismay the faithful three with the sight [ p. 417 ] of it. “My soul,” said He, " is grieved—grieved to death. Stay here, and keep awake.” And He withdrew a stone’s cast off and prostrated Himself on the ground in an agony of distress, “offering up prayers and supplications with strong crying and tears unto Him that was able to save Him from death.” (Heb. v. 7)
Who witnessed His struggle and heard His cries ? It was not the three; for not only were they a stone’s throw off but so weary were they that, despite His injunction, they fell asleep. Yet there was a witness of the scene; for Mark was lurking near by among the trees of the orchard, and he stole after the Master and watched His agony. Here surely is the origin of a moving legend which, though no part of the authentic text, has found its way into St. Luke’s narrative (Lk. xxii. 43,44 R.V. marg.). In the ghostly light mar sof the moonbeams breaking through the tremulous foliage the heavy-eyed watchers descried a whiterobed figure bending over the prostrate Master and took it at the moment for “an angel from heaven strengthening Him.”
For nigh an hour He lay in anguish, and His prayer all the while was that even yet the awful doom might be averted. “0 My Father,” He cried, Mt xxv . “everything is possible for Thee : remove 4?; Mk. this cup from Me.” And an answer was X1V ’ 37 ’ vouchsafed. Then as in every dark hour of His experience hitherto He remembered the purpose which He had been commissioned to accomplish, the purpose of His Father’s blessed will; and He found strength in a fresh surrender thereto. “Nay, not what I will but what Thou wilt.”
[ p. 418 ]
Thus calmed He arose and returned to the three, desiring the comfort of their fellowship ; but alas! they were asleep. “Simon,” said He, rebuking by this use of his old name the disciple who had promised so much, “are you sleeping ? Had you not strength to keep awake for a single hour ?” Plainly there was no help for Him in human sympathy, and He must seek it again in heavenly communion. “Keep awake,” said He to the three, forewarning them of their own need of strength for the approaching ordeal, “and pray, that you be not put to trial.” They were too ashamed to speak, but their mute sorrow touched His heart and He added, kindly excusing them: “The spirit is eager, but the flesh is weak.”
Therewith He withdrew and resumed His communion with God. The storm which had shaken Him was over, and He did not now cast Himself on the ground and cry in anguish. His prayer was a renewal of His self-surrender. “My Father,” He said, “if this cup cannot pass away without My drinking it. Thy will be done.” Then He went back to the watchers only to find them again drowsing, and without a word He turned away, leaving them to their confusion. Hardly had He resumed His prayer when He heard the tramp of armed men and saw through the trees the flicker of their torches and the gleam of armour. It was the traitor and his company, not only the officers of the Sanhedrin but a detachment of the cohort—the Roman garrison at Jerusalem— (Cf. Jo. xviii. 3,12 R.V. marg) sent by the governor at the Sanhedrin’s request to effect the arrest in case of resistance. He hastened to His disciples and roused them all. “Are you sleeping still,” He cried, [ p. 419 ] “and taking your ease ? Look you, the hour is nigh, and the Son of Man is being betrayed into the hands of sinners. Rise ! let us be going. Look you, My betrayer is nigh.”
It was a somewhat motley company that presently appeared on the scene. See how it was composed. The Sanhedrin had its own officers, and when Judas quitted the Upper Room and, betaking himself to the rulers, announced his readiness to betray the Master, they would in ordinary circumstances have despatched these with him on the unholy errand. But at the Passover season for the preservation of order in the crowded city the Roman governor repaired thither from Caesarea, the provincial capital, and occupied the Praetorium, his official residence at Jerusalem ; and they durst not act without his approval. They had therefore, though fretting at the delay, to report the matter to him and obtain the service of a detachment of soldiers from the garrison. These marched to Gethsemane guided by the traitor and Mt xxvi accompanied by the Sanhedrin’s officers who, armed with truncheons and carrying torches to show the way among the trees, gave the troop, as the Evangelists remark, the appearance of a rabble. (Mt. xxvi. 47; Mk. xiv. 43; Lk. xxii. 47)
In truth those officers of the Sanhedrin had little heart for the work. Once already some six months ago they had been commissioned to arrest Him; and, laying wait for Him in the Temple-court, so impressed were they by His teaching that they durst not meddle with Him. And their wonder had in no wise diminished during the interval. Rude and ignorant men, they shared the popular [ p. 420 ] sentiment and regarded Him with a superstitious awe, which was now quickened by their ghostly surroundings.
It lay with the soldiers to make the arrest, and here a difficulty presented itself. As they approached, they saw not one man but twelve ; and their commander turned to the guide and demanded of him which was to be arrested. Alas for the wretched traitor! He had thought his work would be done when he had conducted the soldiers to the spot, and he would keep in the background and steal away unobserved by his old comrades. But now he is forced to the front. He would dissemble his villainy to the last. The Master knew it, but might he not impose on the eleven and make as though he had done the errand which had taken him from the Upper Room, and had now come to resume his place among them ? “The one whom I kiss,” said he to the commander, “is he. Arrest him.” A kiss was the greeting of friends when they met, and Judas stepped forward to the Master. “Hail, Rabbi!” said he and kissed Him, and not merely kissed Him but, as the Greek has it, “kissed Him tenderly.”
It was the extremity of heartless effrontery, and the Lord indignantly repelled it. “Comrade,” said He, “to your errand !” (Mt. xxvi. 50) and brushing the wretch aside, He confronted the officers of the Sanhedrin and demanded : “Whom are you seeking ?” “Jesus the Nazarene” they faltered. “I am He” He answered, advancing to surrender Himself. A dramatic scene ensued. It is told in ancient history how Gaius Marius, a fugitive from the defeat which closed his triumphant career, was captured at Minturnae [ p. 421 ] and there detained until the Senate should determine his doom. It was decreed that he must die, and a dragoon was commissioned to despatch him. Sword in hand he repaired to the cell. “Sirrah,” cried the old hero, his eyes flashing in the dim light, “dare you slay Gaius Marius ?” and the assassin flung down his sword and fled, crying “I cannot kill Gaius Marius !” Even so it happened now. As He stepped forward to surrender Himself to them, the officers, shaken by ghostly terrors, tumultuously retreated and with oriental abandon dropped on the ground. “Whom are you seeking ?” He repeated. “Jesus the Nazarene” they replied again. “I told you that I am He; so,” said He, pointing to the eleven, “if you are seeking Me, let these go their way.”
His chivalrous appeal on their behalf enkindled His disciples’ devotion, and as the soldiers seized Him and were pinioning Him, Peter drew his sword— that poor weapon which he bore beneath his mantle and had displayed in the Upper Room—and, rushing to the rescue, fell upon Malchus, the Chief Priest’s slave, and slashed his right ear. It was a desperate deed and would have provoked a bloody reprisal had not the Master intervened. “Sheathe your sword !” He cried and, wrenching His hands free, “Let go,” said He: “just thus far,” and touched Malchus’ wound and stanched it. Then He remonstrated with Peter: “The cup which the Father has given Me, shall I not drink it ? Or do you fancy that I cannot appeal to My Father, and He will at this moment set at My side more than twelve legions of angels ?” Though all the twelve men whom He had chosen were about Him sword in hand, He needed not their [ p. 422 ] poor championship. What were they worth in comparison with twelve legions of the heavenly host ?
The Sanhedrin’s officers were now crowding round, indignant at the assault on their comrade—the very men who had never dared to molest Him in the Templecourt and who a few moments ago had retreated so tumultuously before Him. Emboldened by the presence of the soldiers, they were clamouring for the arrest of the disciples too ; and the Lord sternly and contemptuously addressed them, taunting them with their cowardice. Their insistence prevailed, and as the soldiers advanced to arrest them, the disciples incontinently fled. All the eleven escaped, but another who had joined their company was less fortunate. This was Mark. He had emerged from his concealment and was watching the scene ; and when he turned to flee, a soldier grasped his loose robe, and he would have been captured had he not slipped out of it and fled naked. Yet it would seem that he did not escape scathless. At any rate in after days, when he was famed in the Church as the Evangelist, he bore the curious epithet of “stump-fingered”—a memorial perhaps of that tragic night in Gethsemane when in the wild scuffle his hand was mutilated by the slash of a sword-blade.