Jesus, having said these things, went out with his disciples beyond the torrent Cedron, where was a garden, into which he entered, he and his disciples.
When the prayer of chapter 17 ends, the Lord leaves the city. He crosses a valley and enters a garden His betrayer knew well. Commentators read every detail here as deliberate: the timing, the brook, the garden, and the company He keeps.
The verse ties what follows to what came before.
He went to the garden only when His testimony was finished, when He "had spoken these words." There He met those who thought they could arrest Him. He had completed His testimony about the Father. All that was now left was to glorify Him in His death. He would now fulfil His divine predictions about His own death. He would become the Lamb of God (1:29), the serpent lifted up (3:14), the good shepherd (10:11), and the grain of wheat that was to fall into the ground and die (12:24).
The brook is named because another rejected king had crossed it. David fled that way when his son Absalom seized the throne (2 Samuel 15:23). Writers set the two crossings side by side and find the later one heavier.
How very solemn was this crossing of the brook Cedron. Far, far more solemn and sorrowful than David's crossing. For a time David had to give up his throne, and many of his people were against him. But the nation rejected the Son of God, and so did the world, and so did the leaders of Israel who claimed to be the servants of God. One of His disciples was about to betray Him. All would leave Him. The leaders of Israel would ill-treat Him, and so would Pilate and Herod, the kings of the earth. He would be crucified and slain, suffering death at the hands of His God as the judgment of sin.
The valley already had a grim history.
In Old Testament times people treated it as a defiled place. Asa burnt his mother's idol there. 1 Kings 15:13. Josiah also burnt there the symbols of idolatry. 2 Kings 23:4, 6, 12; and from 2 Kings 23:6 and Jeremiah 31:40 it would appear to have been the common burial ground.
Matthew and Mark call this place Gethsemane. John calls it only a garden. Some have pressed the meaning of that name too far.
It was the same orchard or garden which the other Gospels call Gethsemane. The name is formed from the Hebrew words meaning "a winepress" and "oil". But that gives no real ground for what some have said: that the dark words of Isaiah 63:3, "I have trodden the winepress alone," were fulfilled here in particular, as the name suggests. For the treading of the winepress is when the Lord comes to judge, not to suffer... These prophecies do not describe agony. They describe vengeance — not His bloody sweat with strong crying and tears, but His treading the peoples in His anger.
One writer ties that silence to the aim of this Gospel.
John mentions that He went into the garden of Gethsemane, and that His disciples were with Him. But he says nothing here of His prayer of agony in the garden, where He lay prostrate in supplication "with strong crying and tears." For that prayer belongs to the lowliness of His spotless Manhood, not to the sublime glory of His deity. In John we see Him in full control of every circumstance He faced. His way was in every moral respect the triumphal march of a Conqueror.
The order of the words matters: He went out, and the disciples came with Him.
In the opening verse we read, "Jesus… went forth with His disciples." So we see the Good Shepherd going before and the sheep following.
Another writer looks past the garden to where that leading finally arrives.
He goes over the "black" winter-torrent Kidron. It is such a fitting picture of the "brook in the way" of which He had to drink, so that with His work finished He might "lift up the head." For the refreshment He obtained for others was what was His own. It broke out of the dark abyss of suffering which now lay before Him. Over Kidron, then, He passes to the garden, carrying His disciples with Him. He was indeed carrying them, though by a way they did not know, to the paradise of God.
Of all the spots in Jerusalem, He chose the one His betrayer could find.
It was a place well known to the betrayer, and we might have thought that, given the errand Judas was on, this garden was the one place to avoid. But the Lamb was to be led to the slaughter. The Victim will take no precautions against the scheming wickedness of the man who had lifted up his heel to destroy Him. Once He hid Himself. At other times He walked right through the crowd and went His way. But tonight He will surrender, for this was man's hour and the power of darkness.
- Timing — He faced arrest only after His testimony about the Father was finished. Only the death was left.
- Crossing — David crossed the Kidron when he lost his throne, and the valley took the ashes of Judah's idols. The rejected Son of God walks the same route.
- Garden — Matthew and Mark name it Gethsemane. John leaves out the agony and shows a Man in full command of His circumstances.
- Leading — He carries His disciples with Him, by a way they did not know, toward the paradise of God.
- Surrender — He walks into the very place the betrayer knew. He takes no precautions, because tonight He gives Himself up.
And Judas also, who delivered him up, knew the place, because Jesus was often there, in company with his disciples.
Between the upper room and the arrest comes one quiet line about a place. Judas knew where to find Jesus, so why did the Lord walk into a garden His betrayer could name?
The detail matters. Commentators see the depth of the traitor's guilt here. Judas took the place where Jesus met His friends and made it the address for an arrest.
The wickedness of Judas is as strongly marked here as in John 13. He knew the place well, because Jesus was in the habit of going there with His disciples. What a thought — to choose such a place for His betrayal! What unimaginable hardness of heart! But sadly, he had given himself up to Satan, as it were. He became the tool of the enemy, the display of Satan's power and of his true character.
Judas knew a place that had held a great deal. One writer lists what those visits contained.
Think what that garden had known! Communion with the Father, prayer, intercession. Tender care for the weak disciples, and self-sacrificing interest on their behalf. The watchful love of the good Shepherd, pity for Israel, a heart going out to the sheep that are not of this fold. Yes, Judas knew it. Under Satan, he made his plans to please the chief priests and Pharisees.
But why did He keep going back? One writer sees the same desire in Him now.
How did Judas know the place? The Spirit tells us, "Jesus often met there with His disciples." He loved to have them all to Himself. He is the same Jesus, the unchanging One up in the glory, yet with us here. He cannot give up that place. It is the joy of His heart to be the centre of His saints.
Judas had information. What he lacked was everything that mattered.
In the verses that follow we see the wolf coming. Judas "knew the place" where Jesus had often met with His disciples, but he had never known Jesus. He knew nothing of the glory of His Person. He knew nothing of His mighty power over all His foes, His infinite love for His poor sheep, or His perfect obedience to the Father.
Kelly presses the same point from the side of the arrest itself, noting that Judas used what he had picked up from being near.
He brings before us the truly appalling sight of Judas using his close knowledge of the Saviour's habits and haunts to guide those who wanted to take and kill Him... But Judas really did not know Him any more than his companions did.
If closeness to Christ guaranteed anything, Judas would have been safe. Kelly draws out the opposite rule.
One of the company chosen to be with Jesus here below would prove this awful truth. The nearer a man is on the outside to blessing, the further away he is morally, unless he takes it into his heart. There was only one Judas in Israel, and he was nearest to Jesus. Only one man joined all the privileges of that closeness to Jesus with all the guilt of betraying Him.
The Lord did not change His route to avoid a place His betrayer could name. The garden's name — Gethsemane means oil-press — is read as fitting what He came there to face.
But He is going forward with perfect knowledge of everything on His own part. It matters that we are told here that Judas knew the place as one the Lord often went to with His disciples. He is not avoiding but now seeking the "oil-press" of sorrow. Eternal joy is to be the sure result.
This small explanation also says something about the record itself.
John 18:2. — Here we clearly have the comment of an eyewitness. Every attempt to turn this into a weapon against such testimony must fail.
- The place — Jesus had a habit. The garden was where He met His disciples, and Judas used that against Him.
- The love — He went there because it is His joy to be the centre of His own. He has not given that up.
- The knowledge — Judas knew the location. He knew nothing of the Person: not His glory, not His power, not His love for His sheep.
- The warning — being close to blessing on the outside saves no one. Judas was nearest of all, and furthest away in heart.
- The choice — He knew it all, and still walked toward the press of sorrow. Eternal joy is the sure result, and His steps are ours to follow.
Judas therefore, having got the band, and officers of the chief priests and Pharisees, comes there with lanterns and torches and weapons.
Night has fallen outside Jerusalem. Judas arrives at a garden he knows well, at the head of an armed column. John alone tells us what that column carried. The details raise one question: why so much force against a Man who had never lifted a hand?
The word translated "band" points to Roman troops. One writer sets out who came, and why they came after dark:
He now came with the band. These were Roman soldiers from the fortress of Antonia, under the command of a chief captain, a military tribune. With them came officers from the chief priests and Pharisees, carrying lanterns, torches, and weapons (18:3). Those lanterns and torches cast a harsh light on the scene. The account does not say under what pretext they asked for the help of the Roman soldiers. But there they were. The Jewish authorities seem to have feared a disturbance, so they decided to make the arrest at night. And they had clearly gathered this formidable force to frighten the disciples out of any try at a rescue. These details as to the company are unique to John.
The weapons they carried show who was in that crowd:
The swords show that the Roman cohort (John 18:3) was the centre of this crowd. The clubs and so on show that the Jewish temple watch, and other assorted fanatics, were there too. Jew and Gentile, men of different nationality and different classes, were ready to take part in the world's crowning sin — and they did.
Judas needed no help finding the place. He knew the Lord's routine, and that was the limit of what he knew.
Judas knew well the Lord's usual habits, but knew nothing of His heart. He could not find the Lord as his Savior, but it was no trouble at all for him to find Him so he could betray Him to His enemies! He brings the soldiers and officers, well equipped with lanterns, torches and weapons (v. 3). It was a formidable array to arrest a Man whom they knew was no revolutionary or rabble-rouser! All of this on their part was empty folly. They found that their show of strength was utter weakness in His presence, and He never offered the least physical resistance.
The garden was where the Lord had prayed. Judas turned that knowledge into a map:
Think of what that garden had known! Communion with the Father, prayer, intercession, tender care for the feeble disciples. Self-sacrificing interest on their behalf, the watchful love of the good Shepherd, pity for Israel, a heart going out to the sheep not of this fold. Yes, Judas knew it, and he took his measures accordingly, under Satan, to please the chief priests and Pharisees.
Picture the night, and the gear they carried looks absurd. The lights and the weapons were both pointless:
Judas leads the band and the officers from His enemies to the place of the nightly prayer. They bring lanterns and torches and weapons to make sure of their prey — though a full moon was shining, and He had never struck a blow in self-defence. But Judas really did not know Him any more than his companions did. How terrible the sight of a soul blinded to the deadly malice at work, and to the Saviour's glory and His love!
Against all that hardware, the Lord neither ran nor fought:
Was this the time for flight or fight? For neither. Without panic, surprise, or hesitation Jesus faces the crisis. He never did hesitate. Not once in all His earthly life was He at a loss how to act, never had He to seek the advice of any, or change His mind or purpose.
The soldiers were never the deciding factor in what happened that night:
Not all the treachery of Judas, not all the hatred and enmity of the Jews, not all the power of Rome could have seized the Lord. They could take Him only when the time had come for Him to give Himself up. His hour was now come. He could have destroyed the company that came to arrest Him. That was as easy for Him as making them fall face down before His Name.
- Knowledge — Judas knew the place, the habit, the hour; he never knew the Person. Nearness to Christ is not the same as knowing Him.
- Coalition — Roman swords and temple clubs met in one crowd. Jew and Gentile shared in the world's crowning sin.
- Overkill — Lanterns and torches under a full moon. Weapons against One who never struck a blow. Fear dressed up as strength.
- Composure — No flight, no fight, no hesitation. He had never once been at a loss how to act, and He was not now.
- Surrender — Neither Judas, nor Israel's rulers, nor Rome could have taken Him. They took Him only because His hour had come and He gave Himself up.
Jesus therefore, knowing all things that were coming upon him, went forth and said to them, Whom seek ye?
Judas arrives in the garden with an armed band — and the one they came to arrest steps out to meet them. John records no struggle and no escape. Jesus already knew everything that was about to happen to Him.
His knowledge was not a vague sense that trouble was near. One writer lists what was closing in on Him.
Notice in verse 4 that He knew all things that would come upon Him. All the power of the enemy was being concentrated now. Religious leaders, the Jews, the Gentiles and their rulers would all unite in vicious hatred against the Son of God. A true disciple would deny Him. A false disciple was betraying Him. All would forsake Him. And far more than this, He would suffer the awesome judgment of God against sin on the cross of Calvary. Yet in calm, blessed dignity He went forth.
The same words open chapter 13, where He washed His disciples' feet.
Compare this with chapter 13. Jesus knew that His hour had come to leave this world and go to the Father. He knew that the Father had given all things into His hands. Loving His own to the end, He made Himself ready to wash their feet. Here the end has come. Jesus knows all things that are coming upon Him. He knows He is to be cut off and have nothing. And He demands of His enemies that, if they seek Him, they let the disciples go... His foreknowledge was perfect; for Him there were no surprises. The loss of all things, His own cutting off here, was as present to His spirit as the receiving of all things from the Father was there.
He knew, and He still went out. Those two facts together show who He is.
First, we see the glory of His deity and the perfection of His humanity shining out, for we read, "Then Jesus, knowing all that would happen to him, came forward." A mere man, with the slightest knowledge of what was coming, would have turned back. Of no one but a divine Person can we say, in an absolute sense, that He knew all things. And of no one but a perfect Man who knew all things can we say that He "came forward." He submits to men, but in obedience to the Father. He was "not rebellious; I turned not backward" (Isa. 50:5).
No one lays a hand on Him. He moves first, and the question is His.
He comes, with the agents employed by the malice of the priests and Pharisees, to seize the person of Jesus. But Jesus acts first. It is He who presents Himself to them. Knowing all that would happen to Him, He comes forward and asks, "Whom do you seek?" It is the Saviour, the Son of God, who offers Himself... No one laid hands on Him... Who will take Him? He had only to go away and leave them there. But He did not come for this; and the time to offer Himself up had come.
His composure here is a matter of who He is, not of nerve.
Men who do not know the Lord talk of His "limitations." They forget that He is God, the Word become flesh. He no more ceased to be God than a man can cease to be man. Jesus knew all things that were coming on Him. This is the same Jesus who went through it all in the deepest grief, yet in dependence on the Father, for He was just as truly man, the perfect man. Now, when the horrors began to thicken, what calm ran through His every word and act!
He put Himself in front of the armed band so that His disciples could walk away untouched.
First, the perfect willingness with which Christ gives Himself up. He presents Himself without hesitating to the armed band that came out to seek Him, knowing fully what was to happen to Him. "Then Jesus, knowing all that would happen to him, came forward"; "I told you that I am he. So, if you seek me, let these men go." This proves that, while He offers Himself, there is a full and perfect deliverance for us. "Of those whom you gave me I have lost not one." The Lord presents Himself so that the power of the enemy should not even touch us.
- Knowing — He faced the betrayal, the desertion, the cross and God's judgment against sin with no surprises. His foreknowledge was perfect.
- Going — knowing all this, He still went forward. Anyone else with the slightest hint of what was coming would have turned back.
- Offering — no one seized Him. He moved first and presented Himself, because the time to offer Himself up had come.
- Calm — His composure rests on who He is. He is the Word become flesh: God who never stopped being God, and truly man, the perfect man.
- Shielding — He stepped in front so His own could go free. That is the measure of the full deliverance He won for us.
They answered him, Jesus the Nazaraean. Jesus says to them, I am [he]. And Judas also, who delivered him up, stood with them.
In the garden the armed party comes to arrest Jesus, but He speaks first, and their scornful answer meets a reply that puts them all on the ground. What is happening when Jesus says "I am," and why does John pause to note that Judas was standing there among them?
Nobody drags Jesus out of hiding. He steps forward. Commentators see two things in that one move.
First, then, the glory of His Deity and the perfection of His humanity shine out, for we read, "Jesus therefore, knowing all things that would come upon Him, went forth." A mere man who knew even a little of what was coming would have turned back. Only of a divine Person can we say, in the full sense, that He knew all things. And only of a perfect Man, Who knew all things, can we say that He "went forth". He submits to man, but in obedience to the Father.
"Jesus of Nazareth" was not a neutral label on their lips.
Face to face with this militant band He asks simply, "Whom are you seeking?" Their answer is "Jesus of Nazareth." Because Nazareth was a place despised by the Jews (compare John 1:46), they spoke this way to belittle Him. But He says only "I Am." This is His name as the eternal, self-existent One (compare Ex. 3:14), whose glory is infinite. (Note that John records at this point that Judas stood with them, on the side of those who defied the living God.)
One writer sets the two directions of movement side by side.
Secondly, we see His mighty power as a divine Person, for having said "I AM", His enemies "went backward, and fell to the ground". They were in the presence of the great I AM, the One with all power. The world can do nothing against Him, despite all its forces joined together with their lanterns and torches and weapons. When the Lord of glory "went forth", His enemies "went backward".
Not everyone who hears that name falls backward.
He was not of Nazareth as to origin, He was the blessed uncreated God. And His testimony was so overwhelming that "As soon as He had said to them, I AM, they went backward, and fell to the ground." Our hearts have been opened to receive the wonderful truth of Who He is. So we fall forward and bow at His feet in worship.
John names the betrayer at this point. Judas knew that voice well, and he now stood on the other side.
How many things had taken place in that garden! What words came from a heart filled with God's own love, seeking to press that love into the narrow and dull hearts of His beloved disciples! But all was lost on Judas... Judas, too, was there, who knew Him well, and knew that voice, so long familiar to his ears. No one laid hands on Him. But as soon as His word echoes in their hearts, as soon as they hear that divine "I am" within them, they go backward and fall to the ground.
If they could not stand, they could not arrest Him either. The next verses show why He stayed.
Who will take Him? He had only to go away and leave them there. But that is not what He came for, and the time had come for Him to offer Himself up... The first time, the divine glory of the Person of Christ had to display itself; and now His care for the redeemed ones. "If you seek me," said the Lord, "let these go their way"... He presents Himself as the good Shepherd, giving His life for the sheep.
One writer explains why an event this striking appears in only one Gospel.
John alone recounts the Lord's answer to the armed band that came to arrest Him, "I am [he]," which caused them to go backward and fall to the ground. Yet Matthew, who saw it, says no more about so striking an event than Mark or Luke. It did not come within God's design for their Gospels, but it did for John, who therefore records it. John, on the other hand, says nothing about the agony in Gethsemane, which the other three dwell on. Yet it was given to Matthew, and even to Mark and Luke, to record that, as dwelling not on His deity but on His human sufferings, in keeping with the design of each of their Gospels.
- He steps forward. No one finds Jesus; He comes out to them, knowing everything that is coming.
- He names Himself. They offer a title of contempt; He answers with the name of the eternal, self-existent God.
- They step backward. Torches, weapons and numbers count for nothing — one word puts the whole band on the ground.
- He stays anyway. He could have walked away free. He stays as the good Shepherd and asks them to let His disciples go.
- We fall forward. The company fell back before that name; those who receive who He is fall at His feet in worship.
When therefore he said to them, I am [he], they went away backward and fell to the ground.
The arrest in the garden begins with a question and an answer, and the answer flattens an armed crowd. His answer put the soldiers and the traitor himself on the ground. So why did they get up and take Him anyway?
Commentators read His answer as the name of God Himself. That is why the crowd went down.
We see His mighty power as a divine Person. After He said "I AM", His enemies "went backward, and fell to the ground". They were in the presence of the great I AM, the One with all power. The world can do nothing against Him, despite its combined forces with their lanterns and torches and weapons. When the Lord of glory "went forth", His enemies "went backward". So the Psalmist, speaking prophetically of Christ, can say, "Let them be driven backward and put to shame who wish me evil" (Psalm 40:14; Psalm 70:2-3).
They had asked for a man from a town people looked down on. The reply gave them more than they bargained for.
The Jews despised Nazareth, so they used the name "Jesus of Nazareth" to belittle Him. But He says only "I Am." This is His name as the eternal, self-existent One (see Exodus 3:14), whose glory is infinite. But it is no wonder that at the words "I Am" they all drew back at once and fell to the ground. Powerless, they lie at His feet.
The crowd came armed and confident. They found Him easily, and it made no difference.
They could not have taken Him had He not placed Himself unresistingly in their hands. Led by Judas, who was a devil, they come in the night to lone Gethsemane, and there they find Him. And now that they had found Him, how utterly helpless they are in His presence! … Despite all his wickedness, and even under the influence of the dread angel of the Abyss, how weak and cowardly man is! They have indeed found Him. He acknowledges that He is the Person they seek. But what can they do? What use to them are their weapons? They are absolutely powerless in His presence.
The list of those on the ground includes the man who brought them there.
God indeed confirmed what was due to that Name; for Jesus was God no less than the Father and the Holy Spirit. Nor was there ever a moment more fitting. So Judas the betrayer stood with them, and he too with them fell to the ground. What a testimony to their conscience, as well as to His glory!
If one word could floor them, the arrest that followed had His consent. The glory was veiled, not absent.
Under this veil lay a glory that could have destroyed its enemies at once, like the flames of the furnace in Babylon, if it had chosen to. For at the last, when the hour had come and the powers of darkness were to have "their hour," the servants of those powers stood in the presence of this glory. They "went backward, and fell to the ground." This teaches us that Jesus was a fully willing captive then, just as later He was a willing victim.
This Gospel says nothing about the praying in the garden. Commentators connect that silence with what John does record here.
He goes over the brook Kidron, and still you get the same divine character. You have nothing at all, not a word, about Gethsemane, or about the praying and crying to His Father. That is not the side we get here. They came to take Him, and He puts Himself forward. You get a divine Person who is giving His life.
Writers read the falling band as a sample of what the word of Christ will one day do on a far larger scale.
Even in the days when He willingly humbled Himself on earth, He showed the striking power of His word. He spoke His name "I Am" to the soldiers who came to arrest Him. They went backwards and fell to the ground. This word will be enough for Him to smite the nations.
- The Name. "I am he" is the name of the eternal, self-existent God, spoken by a man the crowd had just called a Nazarene.
- The collapse. Lanterns, torches and weapons counted for nothing. One word floored the whole arresting party, Judas included — a witness to their consciences as much as to His glory.
- The choice. Since they could not take Him, His arrest was a surrender: a willing captive first, a willing victim after.
- The angle. John leaves out the agony in the garden and keeps this scene. He shows a divine Person giving His life, not losing it.
- The preview. What one word did to a few soldiers in the dark, His word will one day do to the nations.
He demanded of them therefore again, Whom seek ye? And they said, Jesus the Nazaraean.
The armed party sent to arrest Jesus had just fallen to the ground in front of Him. Now He asks them the same question again, and they give the same answer. The One they could not touch hands them a second chance to take Him.
The first question left the armed crowd flat on the ground. He asks the same words again, and this time something other than power shows.
But when He asked them again, "Whom do you seek?" they said, "Jesus of Nazareth." Now grace shone out, not power. Grace now, like power before, expressed the true God who was showing Himself on earth in His own Person. "If then you seek Me, let these go away. This was so that His own word would be fulfilled: Of those whom You have given Me, I have lost not one of them." Like the ark in the Jordan River, He would go alone into the waters of death, and His own would cross over on dry ground.
Nothing in their answer has changed. They fell before Him, got up, and asked for the same man in the same words.
How strange that their eyes were not opened! They did not fall down before Him again and acknowledge His power. But the god of this world had taken full possession of them, and they could not turn back. And God stood behind it all, making their unspeakable sin work out His own purposes of love. So once again the Lord asks, "Whom do you seek?" and again they answer, "Jesus of Nazareth."
"Jesus of Nazareth" was the crowd's measure of Him: a man from a despised town. The name fell far short of the One in front of them.
But who was it that they were seeking to take? Ah, they little knew. People thought He was born of humble parents. He was a Galilean too, from that despised town of Nazareth. Yet He was a Divine Person, and in His Divinity the Second Person of the Godhead. What company of men could take Him prisoner without His free permission? No creature of His could, however well armed and however bold.
The repeated question shows the strange spot the soldiers are in. Their target stands in the open, unarmed, and they still cannot touch Him.
Again His challenge falls upon their ear: "Whom do you seek?" And again they say, "Jesus of Nazareth." Had they not found Him? They had come to arrest Him. They found Him unarmed and looking defenceless, yet they cannot lay hands on Him. He says to them, "I have told you that I am He. So if you seek Me, let these go their way." He will lose none of those the Father has given Him.
The second question is not idle. It leads straight to His one condition, and that condition covers the disciples, not Himself.
"If you seek Me, let these go their way." He was not a hired hand who runs away at the sight of the wolf. The sheep were His. He was the Good Shepherd. He must and would stand between His flock and the enemy… The fangs of the wolf might tear His flesh, but not theirs. The cup He would drink for them would burn His very soul, but not one drop of it should touch their lips.
One writer sums up the choice He puts to them.
The Lord seems to say: "Take either Me or them; you cannot have both."… The truth of substitution stands out here.
- Asked — He puts the question twice: the first time shows His power, the second His grace toward His own.
- Unmoved — they fell to the ground, then rose asking for the same man; a shock is not a change of heart.
- Named — they use a name of contempt, and He accepts it; all the while He is a Divine Person whom no armed band could arrest without His permission.
- Exchanged — His terms are plain: take Me, and let these go. The wolf's teeth reach Him, not the flock.
- Freed — the disciples walked away that night because He stayed. He had said He would lose none, and He kept His word.
Jesus answered, I told you that I am [he] if therefore ye seek me, let these go away;
At a word from Jesus the men sent to arrest Him fall to the ground, and then the same voice asks for His disciples to go free. So why did He give Himself up when He did not have to, and what kept those men safe?
His answer had already knocked the men to the ground. Saying it again shows the power He chose not to use.
He Whose name laid them prostrate could have in a moment consigned them to death for everlasting judgment. But no! He came that God might be glorified in His death for sin, to set free every sinner that believes in Him.
The same words hand Him over and keep His followers from harm.
More than twelve legions of angels stand ready at His word. They are armed with the might of the Almighty, and could rain destruction on all who would raise a hand or a voice against Him. But that word will never pass the lips of the patient Jesus. "If you seek Me, let these men go" is at once His surrender to His enemies and the safeguard of His followers. Of the men the Father gave Him, He would not lose one. He was their defence while He was with them, and now that He was being taken from them He would still be their defence, until they were beyond the reach of every enemy.
He could have walked free. He refused, because saving Himself would have meant losing them.
In one sense He might have escaped what lay ahead, for two words from Him were enough to leave them powerless. But He would not use His divine might to save Himself. Had He done so, He must have lost His loved ones. In their eager devotion His disciples might well have driven that band away, but He would not let them fight… He saw what lay behind them — the terrible sorrow, the malice of Satan, the judgment of God. And He said, "Let these men go."
Earlier in this Gospel Jesus contrasted Himself with a hired man who leaves the sheep when the wolf comes. Now that contrast is tested.
When the wolf comes, a mere hired hand leaves the sheep and runs away. He does not: He "gives His life for the sheep" (John 10:11-12). But though He gives Himself up, He will not let anyone touch the sheep… His poor sheep may fail. Peter denied Him, and all of them left Him. Yet on the Lord's side all is perfect, so not one of His own will be lost.
The men He was protecting would all run away, and one would deny Him three times that night. That is what makes His words for them so striking.
What grace He now showed to His own! They were so unworthy of His love, yet He loved them to the end. He loved them even though He knew they would all leave Him and run away. He knew, too, that the one who ventured nearer on that night of desertion would there deny three times that he knew Him. It was a fulfilment of John 17:12; but great as it was, how little compared with all that those words mean and guarantee!
Behind the love there is also a trust He is keeping: the disciples were a gift to Him.
He must be sacrificed, but they must be saved. Why? Surely because He loved them with a love that would die for them. That was a great reason, but there was an earlier reason… "This was to fulfill the word that He had spoken: 'Of those whom You gave Me I have lost not one.'" He had His Father's gift to keep.
The ark of the covenant once stood in the Jordan riverbed while Israel crossed. That night's rescue points to a much larger one.
Like the ark in the Jordan, He would go alone into the waters of death, and His own would pass over with dry feet… The great salvation, which cannot fail, includes every smaller rescue that suits and serves the glory of God along the way. And it is a blessing to trace all the passing mercies we know to that same spring of gracious power in Christ, where His hand shields us from the enemy's malice.
- Power withheld. One word floored the arresting party. He could have destroyed them; instead He opened a door for His disciples.
- Surrender that shelters. One sentence gives Him up and lets them go — His arrest is their release.
- A gift to keep. He protects them not only because He loves them, but because the Father gave them to Him.
- Failure covered. They would all run, and Peter would deny Him; on His side there is no failure, so not one is lost.
- Alone, so they pass over. He goes into the waters of death by Himself — and the smaller rescues we know now come from the same hand.
that the word might be fulfilled which he spoke, [As to] those whom thou hast given me, I have not lost one of them.
In the garden the armed party has just fallen to the ground, and the Lord tells them to let His men go. John stops the story to explain why: Jesus had said He would lose none of those the Father gave Him, and that night He kept His word.
The scene shows His power first and His self-giving second. He could have walked away from men lying on the ground; instead He used the moment to buy their freedom.
He could have gone away and escaped from them. But He had not come for that. He said again that He was the One they were seeking, and then added, "If therefore you seek Me, let these go their way." He did this so that the word, so precious for us too, would come true: "Of those whom You have given Me, I have lost none." He puts Himself in the gap, so that His own may be sheltered from harm.
The saying He quotes was first spoken about eternal keeping, yet here it covers one night's danger. One writer explains how the larger promise reaches down into the smaller rescue.
Like the ark in the Jordan, He would go alone into the waters of death, and His own would pass over on dry ground. He gives Himself up freely for them. The great salvation cannot fail, and it takes in every smaller rescue that suits and serves the glory of God in the meantime. Every passing mercy we know comes from the same spring of gracious power in Christ. It is a blessed thing to trace it back to Him, wherever His hand shields us from the enemy's malice. He puts Himself forward to endure everything. His people go free; His word is fulfilled in every way. Where the Father gives, the Son loses none. What comfort and assurance before a hostile world!
Escape was open to Him, at a price.
From one point of view, He might have escaped what lay ahead. Two words from Him were enough to paralyse their every power. But He would not use His divine might to save Himself, for if He had done so He would have lost His loved ones. In their eager devotion His disciples might well have put that band to flight, but He would not let them fight. Judas led that band of men who came to take Him. What use would their feeble arms have been against all that stood behind it? He saw what lay behind them — the terrible sorrow, the malice of Satan, the judgment of God — and He said, "Let these go their way."
The reason He gives is the Father's gift, and His guard over them does not stop at the arrest.
More than twelve legions of angels stand ready at His word. They are armed with the might of the Almighty, and they would rain destruction on all who would raise hand or voice against Him. But that word will not pass the lips of the patient Jesus. "If you seek Me, let these go their way" is both His surrender to His enemies and the safeguard of His followers. As to the men the Father had given Him, He would not lose one of them. He was their defence while He was with them. Now that He was being parted from them, He would still be their defence until they were safe beyond the reach of every enemy.
The obvious objection is the traitor standing in that same crowd. The wording answers it: the count is of those the Father gave.
No wonder He could say, "All that the Father gives Me will come to Me" (John 6:37). And He could say, "Those that You gave Me I have kept, and none of them is lost, but the son of perdition; that the Scripture might be fulfilled" (John 17:12). The Father had never given Judas to the Son. Judas was a disciple on the outside only; inside he was a poor dupe of the devil, a man whose greed was his ruin. But none of the Lord's own will ever perish.
The proof turns up later, in the roll call of apostles gathered after the resurrection.
The list of the Eleven given here has point, showing the fulfilment of the Lord's words, "Of those whom You gave Me I have lost none" (John 18:9).
- Given. The eleven are safe because they are the Father's gift to the Son, not because of anything in themselves.
- Guarded. He had been their defence all along, and He would go on being it until they were beyond every enemy's reach.
- Given up. He would not use His power to save Himself; saving Himself would have meant losing them.
- Gone free. He put Himself in the gap, went alone into death, and told the arresting party to let the others walk away.
- Guaranteed. The great salvation covers every smaller rescue along the way. Where the Father gives, the Son loses none.
Simon Peter therefore, having a sword, drew it, and smote the bondman of the high priest and cut off his right ear; and the bondman's name was Malchus.
The soldiers have come to arrest Jesus, and Peter answers with a sword. Only this Gospel names both the man who struck and the man he wounded. So what does loyalty to Christ look like when His enemies close in?
Peter meant well. The problem was when he acted, and what he acted from. Set his blow beside the Lord's own submission that same night.
We see the perfect obedience of Christ to the Father's will. Against it stands the weakness of the flesh in one of the Lord's most devoted disciples. When the Lord was watching in the garden, Peter was sleeping. When the Lord is submitting to His enemies in obedience to the Father's will, Peter is resisting in the zeal of the flesh. Peter was in earnest, but the very sincerity of a saint only adds to the harm he does if he acts in the flesh.
Commentators trace the failure back an hour, to the sleep that preceded it.
Simon Peter shows his haste, completely out of step with the grace of Christ. Had Peter watched and prayed instead of sleeping, it might have been otherwise. When we fail to pray, we enter into temptation.
The other Gospel writers report the blow without naming either man. John gives both names, and in this Gospel no detail is idle.
John tells us the names of both men, His follower and the man he wounded. The healing has its meaning here too, like every other word and fact in this Gospel, showing His personal dignity.
Naming them has a moral effect, not just a historical one.
Peter is named as the one who cut off the ear of Malchus. In divine light, both the actor and the sufferer are no longer veiled, but stand out in their true character.
An ear is a strange target. One writer reads the wound as the mark of a swing that aimed much higher and went wrong.
It seems that Malchus, a slave of the high priest, was showing off the authority he held for the moment, and had insulted the Lord. Simon Peter, angry and indignant, slashed at him with his sword. It was a rash stroke, and he was no swordsman. He meant to split the man's skull open, but he missed his aim and cut off his ear. John was not given the task of recording the healing of that ear before the Lord's hands were tied. But we may well pause and consider the power and mercy of those hands, stretched out only to heal, now bound with cords.
The man struck was not a random figure in the crowd. He was there in his master's place.
The dignity of his office would hardly let the high priest go out at night with the bloodthirsty crowd that made its way to dark Gethsemane with torches and weapons. No, he stayed behind in his palace and sent Malchus to fill his place. It was Malchus who suffered under the stroke of Peter's sword. If the high priest had gone himself, the blow that fell on his servant would have fallen on him.
The sword had a place in an earlier age of God's dealings. Peter reached for a weapon that belonged to a different order.
The law and the sword agreed well; but grace and the sword are completely incompatible. Nature understands the first and readily acts on it. But the Christian should seek to know the second, and act on that too. The disciple acted in law, and used the sword; the blessed Master acted in grace, and healed the ear of Malchus. How bright the contrast!
Scripture never tells us what Malchus made of it all. That silence points somewhere else.
It is not Malchus, either wounded or healed, grateful or otherwise, who fills the eye at this crisis. It is the infinite grace of the blessed Lord. His forgiving and healing hand lays itself gently on the servant of His chief enemy!
Hours later, in the high priest's courtyard, the blow came back on Peter. Satan knows how to set a trap.
The third person to question Peter was a relative of Malchus, the man who had suffered in the garden at Peter's hands. That was a master-stroke of his craft. That brought about Peter's third and worst denial, and his sin and defeat were complete.
The Lord's refusal of the sword was not just for that night. He gave the reason for it later, standing before Pilate.
Others point to the bad developments in our societies and argue that Christians must not tolerate this. Do not the Lord's words give the answer again? "If my kingdom were of this world, my servants would have been fighting." No event since has been more scandalous than the Lord's trial. Yet His servants were not called to fight.
- Sleep. Peter's failure started before he drew the sword. He slept while his Master watched, so temptation found him unready.
- Sincerity. Real earnestness for Christ, acted out in the flesh, does not lessen the damage — it increases it.
- Names. Only this Gospel names both men, so each stands out in his true character.
- Contrast. The disciple wounds; the Master heals — and heals the servant of His chief enemy.
- Consequence. The ear Peter cut off brought him the questioner who drew out his worst denial. A weapon taken up for Christ comes back on the one who took it.
Jesus therefore said to Peter, Put the sword into the sheath; the cup which the Father has given me, shall I not drink it?
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.