and they led him away to Annas first; for he was father-in-law to Caiaphas, who was high priest that year.
Soldiers tie Jesus up and take Him first to Annas, a man who no longer held the office of high priest, though his son-in-law Caiaphas did. John stops to explain the family link and to remind us who Caiaphas was: the man whose verdict was ready before the questioning began.
Moments earlier His enemies had fallen to the ground in front of Him. Now He lets them tie Him up. Writers trace this to a choice, not a defeat.
If it had been the Father's will for the Lord to free Himself from His enemies, there would have been no need for the sword. He could have walked away when His enemies fell to the ground. Earlier in His ministry, when wicked men wanted to throw Him off the edge of the hill, He calmly walked through the middle of them and went on His way. But now He has reached the end of His path, and the hour has come for the great work of the cross. So, in submission to the Father's will, He lets Himself be tied up and led away by men who are Satan's tools. Yet God uses them to carry out the plan He had settled and known beforehand.
John mentions the ropes twice. One writer says what really held Him.
John records twice that He was bound: the Word who made the worlds, now flesh, tied with ropes! That is how they hoped to hold Him fast. Their ropes did not hold Him, but other bonds did, ones their eyes could not see.
This first hearing was not a real trial. Annas held no office, and that shapes how the Lord answers him.
Annas was made high priest in A.D. 6 and removed from the office in A.D. 15. The historian Josephus writes that he had five sons who all served as high priest, and that he himself had held the honour a long time, which had never happened to any other high priest. He may have been seen as a man with some experience in legal matters, and that may explain this informal questioning before they sent the Lord on to Caiaphas. The chief priests may also have hoped that Annas could get some admission out of the Lord that would help to condemn Him. But he was not the high priest, so he had no authority, and the Lord did not go into matters with him. In a case like this he had no real legal power.
The phrase is odd. Someone else was now deciding who held Israel's highest religious office.
The high priest was no longer chosen for life. The office was held at the whim of the Romans, as the historian Josephus records. Valerius Gratus removed Annas, then appointed Eleazar and Simon one after the other, and each of them held the office for only one year.
That detail is not filler. It shows how far the nation's leaders had fallen.
The breakdown of their whole moral order is plain as well: "high priest that year." Who ever heard of such a thing? But they were wrapped up in their own selfishness, taking power to themselves. That was where they stood, and Christ rejected! So the only question was what was convenient; right and wrong never came into it.
Why bring up Caiaphas before the trial has even begun?
We are reminded that Caiaphas was the man who had advised the Jews that it was to their advantage for one man to die for the people. God overruled those words and made them a prophecy of a Saviour. They also showed him to be a judge with his verdict ready in advance.
A corrupt court could not shut God out. He spoke through the very men who wanted Jesus dead.
Everything was out of order, and nowhere was this clearer than in the closing scenes of the Saviour's life. That is why the Gospel recalls what was already recorded in John 11. There the highest religious office was mixed with the lowest self-interest, and the Spirit of prophecy worked in the wicked high priest, as He had long before in the corrupt prophet of Pethor. As a rule the Holy Spirit moved holy men to do God's will and show His glory. But at times He could use, and did use, for that same glory the very men Satan was using to oppose it as much as they could.
- Bound. The ropes were real, but they held only because He chose the Father's will. He had already shown He could walk free.
- Detoured. Annas gets the first hearing as a relative, not as a judge. He has no authority, so the Lord gives him no real answer.
- Dated. Rome handed out the high priesthood a year at a time. God's order was gone from the office that now judged Christ.
- Decided. Caiaphas had given his verdict before the trial. What suited the leaders had replaced right and wrong.
- Overruled. God took the words of a wicked judge and made them announce the death that saves. The plot against Christ became the prophecy of Christ.
But it was Caiaphas who counselled the Jews that it was better that one man should perish for the people.
John pauses to name the man Jesus was taken to. Caiaphas had already told the council that one man should die for the people. It was cold political advice. God turned it into a prophecy its speaker never meant.
The Lord let them tie Him up. Why did He not stop them, when He had the power to? One writer answers from the Father's will, and finds the same hand behind the words of Caiaphas.
Had it been the Father's will for the Lord to free Himself from His enemies, there would have been no need to use the sword. He could quietly have walked away when His enemies fell to the ground... But now He has reached the end of His path, and the hour has come for the great work of the cross. So He bows to the Father's will. He lets them bind Him and lead Him away. They are the tools of Satan, yet God uses them to carry out the plan He had settled and foreknown. In the same way the Spirit of God uses Caiaphas, a wicked man, to foretell a great truth: "one Man should die for the people".
John's note also tells us what kind of court Jesus was walking into.
We are reminded that Caiaphas was the man who had advised the Jews that it was to their advantage for one man to die for the people. God overruled those words to make them a prophecy of a Saviour. But they showed Caiaphas as a judge who already had his verdict ready.
Caiaphas had a reason for wanting Jesus dead, and it was not justice.
Caiaphas throws aside every claim to righteousness and acts only on what is useful. Whatever Jesus might have done, and whatever people might think of Him, Caiaphas argues that it is better for Him to die than for the whole nation to perish. With Caiaphas, as too often with the politicians of this world, the question is not what is right but what is expedient, or "profitable". This man is ready to crucify a just Man to preserve, if he can, the position of a guilty nation.
What Caiaphas feared and what John saw were two different things.
Caiaphas only thought of calming Roman jealousy by putting the Lord to death. John saw in the words a prediction of the Lord as the sin offering, meeting the claims of a holy God for the godly remnant of the nation... Caiaphas considered the Roman power, and feared its wrath. John thought of divine judgment, and of God's provision to escape it by the substitute of His choice.
Everything turns on one small word: for. Kelly weighs the Greek behind it. He quotes an older translation, which reads "for the nation".
"For the nation." This means substitution. Not "on behalf of," but "instead of." Our Lord died as Saviour or Redeemer of Israel, as well as of the Church. He was "stricken for the transgression of My people."
The same sentence had two speakers behind it, and two very different meanings.
In the heart of Caiaphas it was a sentiment with no principle in it. In the mind of the Spirit it was not only most holy; it expressed the foundation of God's righteousness in Christ. His death is the basis of Israel's future hope, and of the actual gathering of God's scattered children, the Church.
John's own comment reached past Israel to people outside it.
God's thoughts reached out beyond the limits of the nation, and took in Gentiles within the divine purpose. For by His death Christ was to gather together into one the children of God who were scattered abroad.
Yet God could not gather them while their sins remained.
No doubt this purpose of gathering His children into one also involved another truth of the greatest importance. There could be no such gathering on God's part without a righteous removal of their sins. So propitiation is implied here, even though these words do not state it. Atonement must come first, before a blessing like the gathering together of the scattered children of God.
- Bound — the ropes held a willing Prisoner. He could have walked free, but the hour for the cross had come.
- Prejudged — the judge Jesus was led to had already announced the verdict before the trial began.
- Expedient — Caiaphas asked what would pay, not what was right. He would kill a just Man to protect a guilty nation.
- Instead of — Christ did not simply die on their behalf. He died in their place.
- Gathered — God meant far more than the speaker did. That one death would gather His scattered children into one, and atonement had to come first.
Now Simon Peter followed Jesus, and the other disciple. But that disciple was known to the high priest, and went in with Jesus into the palace of the high priest;
Two disciples trail behind the arresting party as it leads Jesus to the high priest's house. Only one of them has the connections to get inside. That small detail about who knew whom opens the door to Peter's collapse.
Peter did follow. Another Gospel adds that he kept his distance. Together they give an honest picture of a disciple in trouble.
Verse 15 assures us that Simon Peter followed Jesus, though Luke 22:54 speaks of his following "afar off." He was true, but he wavered. Sadly, that is the case with too many of us who believe.
Peter did not lack courage. He lacked a strength his own nature could not supply.
We have seen Peter's natural energy; now we are to see the weakness of that same nature. Peter did follow Jesus, but he followed in self-confidence, only to learn his own weakness… To follow the Lord we need a power beyond nature to hold us up. The Lord had just prayed to the Father to keep His disciples from evil. So often it is the same with us. Peter thinks he can keep himself, and he is allowed to fall, so that he learns his own weakness.
Many have taken the unnamed second disciple to be the man who wrote this Gospel.
The writer of this Gospel never gives his name. He calls himself "the disciple whom Jesus loved" or "another disciple." It fits the style of the whole book that we should find him here, close to the One on whose chest he had leaned. It was through him that Peter was able to go in to the Jewish council, but this nearness only gave the occasion for his denial.
Not everyone agreed on who that disciple was.
"Known to the high priest." Chrysostom and Cyril regard the disciple "known to the high priest" as the writer of this Gospel. Augustine and others have questioned that; Bengel supposed Nicodemus was meant; Zahn thinks James… In any case, "known" is not the same word as "kinsman" in verse 26. If it is the writer of this Gospel, any trade connection he may have had with the high priest would be enough to explain the word used here.
Being an acquaintance opened a door that discipleship never would have. Commentators differ on whether that was a mercy or a trap. One takes the connection as worldly influence used at the worst possible moment:
Again we see Simon Peter following the Lord, but not in the Spirit. Nor was the other disciple there to his own honour, still less to the Lord's. He gets into the high priest's palace as a man known to that official, and in no way as a follower of Jesus. And how he must soon have grieved over the kind influence he used to get Peter let in, when Peter had to stay outside!
Another writer sees no compromise in him at all.
Though he is never named, he surprises us with the quiet boldness of faith and love. It carries him through untouched and unquestioned, while the seemingly bolder disciple breaks down so badly. He is known to the high priest, and to the gatekeeper, and known as a follower of Christ too. Her question to Peter shows it: "You also are not one of this man's disciples, are you?"
Whatever the motive, the effect on Peter was ruinous. The same access that sheltered one man exposed the other.
His acquaintance with the high priest gave him a little worldly status and privilege, which he used to introduce Peter into the place of danger… That which trips up one disciple may leave another unmoved. And Satan knows exactly how to set his traps.
Inside the courtyard, the two men went different ways. One closed the gap; the other settled by a stranger's fire.
Then he sees Peter at the door. He speaks to the servant girl who kept the door, and so gets Peter in. I am sure that once John and Peter were inside, John made straight for his Master, to get as near to Him as possible. May the Lord keep us near Him too! To be near Him is the only place of safety for the soul that knows Him. I believe that if Peter had been near Him that day, he would never have fallen.
- Following. Peter did follow, and that was real — but at a distance, and the distance is where the danger began.
- Weakness. He followed in self-confidence. He thought he could keep himself, and he was allowed to fall so that he would learn his own weakness.
- Access. The unnamed disciple got in because he knew the high priest, not because he followed Jesus. Commentators differ on whether that showed worldly connection or quiet courage.
- Danger. A small privilege, kindly used, put a friend right where the enemy had set his trap. What trips one disciple may leave another untouched.
- Nearness. One disciple pressed close to his Master and stood; the other stayed back and denied Him. Nearness to Christ is the only safe place.
but Peter stood at the door without. The other disciple therefore, who was known to the high priest, went out and spoke to the porteress and brought in Peter.
Peter can get no further than the gate of the high priest's court. Another disciple — one the high priest knows — goes out and brings him in, and that small kindness raises two questions: who was this disciple, and what did his help cost Peter?
Commentators have never agreed on who this second disciple was.
While Chrysostom and Cyril regard the disciple "known to the high priest" as the Evangelist, Augustine and others have questioned the identity. Bengel supposed Nicodemus to be meant; Zahn thinks James... In any case, we must distinguish "known" from "kinsman" (verse 26). If it is the Evangelist, any trade connection he may have had with the high priest would sufficiently explain the word used here.
Some object that a high priest would never know a fisherman.
We may utterly reject the assumption that the high priest was too great a person to have the son of Zebedee as an acquaintance. John was not "a mean fisherman," though Calvin says it. And even if he had been, how strange to ignore that the proudest may have close relations with the lowly, for reasons too many and too obvious to need another word.
The disciple is most likely John, and his standing with the high priest did Peter no good.
The "other disciple" known to the high priest was pretty clearly John himself. His acquaintance with the high priest gave him a little worldly status and privilege, which he used to bring Peter into the place of danger. The word "also" in verse 17 seems to imply that the girl keeping the door knew that John was a disciple of Jesus. He had not been tempted to deny it as Peter had. What trips up one disciple may leave another unmoved.
A kind word to the doorkeeper had consequences John never intended.
How he must soon have grieved over the kindly influence he used to get Peter in! Until then Peter had to stay outside. Little did he think that his word to the doorkeeper would give occasion for the terrible and repeated fall of his beloved fellow-servant. But every word of the Lord had to be fulfilled. It seems the maid who kept the door knew John was a disciple, since she says to Peter, "Are you also one of this man's disciples?" But she put the testing question to Peter, not to John. And Peter, so bold in the garden, now gives way completely before this woman.
Peter trusted himself to hold out, and the courtyard proved him wrong.
Another disciple enters the palace, not as a disciple of Jesus, but as an acquaintance of the high priest. So he becomes the means of leading Peter into a false position, and Peter breaks down at the simple question of a serving girl... To follow the Lord we need a power beyond nature to sustain us. The Lord had just prayed to the Father to keep His disciples from evil. As so often with ourselves, Peter thinks he can keep himself, and is allowed to fall so that he may learn his own weakness.
One writer sets John's favour to Peter beside a far greater introduction, and marks where the comparison ends.
He does not bring us just to the edge of the place of favour — to "some low place within the door." That is what might happen if our Introducer had only limited influence there. We can hardly suppose that John the son of Zebedee, though known to the high priest, was especially close to him. His influence was just enough to get his friend Simon Peter admitted to the high priest's palace... Through John, Peter obtained access into the palace of the high priest, but not into his favour. This John could not do, and so the illustration falls short of our subject.
Christ gives what John could not.
The right of admittance to this favour we have by Christ Jesus. What we could not have in ourselves He has secured to us permanently... In ourselves we can offer no claim to such favour, but in Christ what claims are found! How great is the favour of God in which Christ Jesus stands! Is He not the One whom God delights to honour? And He is our Introducer.
- Known — the other disciple knew the high priest but was not his relative. Most take him to be John; others have suggested Nicodemus or James.
- Influence — a little worldly standing opened the door, and it brought Peter into the place of danger.
- Kindness — John meant well at the door, yet his word opened the way to Peter's repeated denial.
- Position — inside the court Peter stood in a false position. One servant girl's question broke him. Following the Lord needs power beyond nature.
- Contrast — John's influence reached only as far as the door. Christ brings us not to the edge of God's favour but right into it.
The maid therefore, who was porteress, says to Peter, Art thou also of the disciples of this man? He says, I am not.
Peter has followed Jesus into the high priest's courtyard. The first person to challenge him is not a soldier or a judge, but the girl minding the gate. Her question is mild, almost casual. Yet it breaks the man who had just sworn he would die for his Master.
Peter did not collapse without warning. One writer traces the slide step by step.
What steps we see in Peter's downward course, leading to his denial of the Lord he loved! First, he declared he was ready to die for Him — though the Lord had just told him that Satan wanted to have him, and that He was praying for him. Next, he slept when he should have been watching. Then he fought when he should have been quiet. Then he followed far off when he should have been near. And now he sits down side by side with the enemies of Christ, warming himself! With such a run-up, one can only expect what followed.
The word "also" in her question is a clue: the doorkeeper already knew the other disciple was one of them. Yet the pressure fell on Peter, not on him.
It seems the girl who kept the door knew that John was a disciple, for she says to Peter, "You also are not one of this man's disciples, are you?" But she put the testing question to Peter, not to John. And Peter, so bold in the garden, now gives way completely before this woman. Such is man, though a saint: what is he to be counted as? Fleshly energy is no better in Christ's eyes than fleshly weakness. That weakness not only lied but denied his Master by denying that he belonged to Him as a disciple.
Two disciples stood in the same courtyard. Only one of them broke.
He himself, though unnamed, surprises us with the quiet boldness of faith and love. It carries him through untouched and unquestioned, where the seemingly bolder disciple breaks down so helplessly... Let us get nearer to His heart. Then we will be fit to walk steadily and undisturbed through the world's attractions and its threats alike, armed against each by the secrets we learn there.
The girl did not ask Peter what he believed. She asked whether he belonged to Jesus. His answer was a lie, and it left him free to sit with the wrong crowd.
Peter, indeed, followed Jesus, but he does so in self-confidence, only to learn his own weakness... Peter senses danger in admitting that he is a disciple of One whom the high priest has foretold must die. So he tells a deliberate lie. A man bold and courageous by nature breaks down when he is in a false position. To follow the Lord we need a power beyond nature to hold us up... So he denies that he is a disciple and, having done so, can keep company with the Lord's enemies, and warm himself at the world's fire.
Peter's failure is not just history. One writer turns it into a mirror for the reader.
Beware of fires, of warmth and comfort and pleasure, created by the enemies of the Lord Jesus. How many young Christians have forgotten this, and paid dearly for it. Peter identified himself with the world... Look at him — at yourself, too — in the priest's palace. A little girl can make him tremble. He is ashamed to confess that Holy One, who was Himself making such a good confession.
The four Gospels place the first denial in different spots. One writer sets them side by side.
John tells us that the girl who kept the door was the first to challenge him. Matthew says she came to him as he sat outside in the courtyard. Both Mark and Luke tell us that the first denial took place as he sat by the fire. There is no inconsistency in these statements. The facts, I conclude, are that the girl began to challenge him at the door, and followed him to the fireplace, where others would join in her taunting.
Jesus did not pray that Peter would avoid the fall. He prayed for what the fall would produce.
This is a condition which not only exposes one to fall, but for which the fall itself may be the only remedy. We have to learn that only when we are weak are we strong, and that Christ's strength is made perfect in weakness... In such a case as this, the Lord Himself cannot pray that Peter may not fall. He prays instead that Peter may be "converted" by it — turned from that dangerous self-confidence to a sense that he cannot trust himself, even for a moment.
- Drift. The denial began long before the door: boasting, then sleeping, then fighting, then following far off.
- Distance. Nearness to Christ, not natural courage, carried the other disciple through untouched.
- Denial. The girl asked about belonging, not doctrine, and Peter lied about the one tie that defined him.
- Contrast. The servant trembled at a girl's question while his Master was making a good confession.
- Design. The fall itself was the cure for self-confidence. Christ prayed not that Peter would escape it, but that it would turn him.
But the bondmen and officers, having made a fire of coals (for it was cold), stood and warmed themselves; and Peter was standing with them and warming himself.
Peter has followed Jesus into the high priest's courtyard. John stops to show us where he stands: at a fire, among the men who arrested his Master. The detail looks small, yet commentators treat it as the moment Peter's fall becomes visible.
The layout of such a house explains how the Lord could see Peter at the fire.
Houses of any importance — and the high priest's palace was sure to be one — usually formed a square around an open inner court... The interior court was usually open to the sky, and here it was that they "had made a charcoal fire, because it was cold." ... Most of the ground-floor rooms opened directly into the court. Some were large and formed a place of audience, quite open to the court. It was most probably in a chamber of this sort, open at the back to the court, that Jesus stood before the high priest. So we can see how the Lord, when He turned, could see Peter in the court among the servants.
Peter did not arrive at this fire in one leap. One writer traces the whole descent.
What steps we see in Peter's downward course, leading to his denial of the Lord he loved! First, he declared he was ready to die for Him — though the Lord had just told him that Satan wanted to have him, and that He was praying for him. Next, he slept when he should have been watching. Then he fought when he should have been quiet. Then he followed far off when he should have been near. And now he sits down, side by side, with the enemies of Christ, and warms himself! With such a prelude one can only expect what followed.
John's wording puts Peter in a group — and the company he joined is the point.
Peter stood with them, not with his Master. What a mistake. The fire was pleasant on so cold a night; the company of these officers had perhaps some attraction too. Yet despite them and the fire of coals, "it was cold." No fire of coals had the power to make him truly warm. His heart was, sadly, wrong. Bad company had corrupted his good manners. His conduct was wrong too.
The verse gains its weight from what the Lord was suffering at that same moment.
The Lord is taken; and then we read that Peter went and sat down in the hall among the enemies of Christ, warming himself by the fire. Beloved friends, think of that! Men are striking the blessed Lord, despising Him, insulting Him, ill-treating Him. The enemies of Jesus are pouring out the hatred of their hearts against Him. And there is Peter, one of His own loved disciples, sitting down and warming himself by the enemy's fire!
Peter's denials did not come out of nowhere. Another writer points back to what he had already neglected.
He had slept when he ought to have watched and prayed. He had walked into the place of temptation instead of listening to the Lord's warning... Confessing Jesus among friends is very different from confessing Him before bloodthirsty enemies. Peter had to learn by painful experience what he was too unspiritual to take in from the words of Christ. It is a blessed thing to learn our nothingness and worse in the presence of the One who keeps us from falling. But every saint, and especially every servant, must learn himself. If he does not learn it in that presence, he learns it in the bitter humbling of what we are when we forget Him.
Another writer draws the same lesson toward the strength a disciple actually needs.
Peter, indeed, followed Jesus, but he does so in self-confidence, only to learn his own weakness... To follow the Lord we shall need a power that is beyond nature to sustain us. The Lord had just prayed to the Father to keep His disciples from evil. As so often with ourselves, Peter thinks he can keep himself, and is allowed to fall so that he may learn his own weakness. So he denies that he is a disciple and, having done so, can keep company with the Lord's enemies and warm himself at the world's fire.
One writer takes the cold as more than weather.
Away from Christ the disciple is always cold. No worldly warmth, no company, no associations, no pleasures can make up for His absence. The heart that prefers the world to Christ must always be cold. Peter did not become truly warm until he left the fireside and went out, and there wept bitterly.
Later in this Gospel the Lord Himself lights a fire of coals.
A fire of coals was there, lit by the Lord's own hands. How it would wake conscience and memory in Simon. He had drawn near to the fire of the Lord's foes, and it had been the scene of his disgrace and denial. Now the Lord draws him to His own fire and welcomes him there. That fire becomes the scene of his restoration and re-commission, according to the grace that abounds much more where sin abounded.
- Fire one. Peter warms himself at a fire lit by the men who had just arrested his Master — comfort borrowed from the wrong side.
- The drift. Self-confidence, then sleeping, then fighting, then following at a distance, then sitting among enemies. The denial was the last step, not the first.
- The company. He stood with them, not with his Master; bad company corrupted him before any question was ever asked.
- The cold. No fire of that kind can warm a heart away from Christ — Peter was only truly warm once he went out and wept.
- Fire two. The Lord lights His own fire, and the place of the fall becomes the place of restoration, where grace abounds more than sin.
The high priest therefore demanded of Jesus concerning his disciples and concerning his doctrine.
Jesus has just been arrested in the garden. Now, in the high priest's house, the questioning begins before anyone has laid a charge — and commentators read it as a hunt for evidence, not a weighing of it.
They took Jesus to Annas first, and then on to Caiaphas. So which of the two asked these questions? Writers have long disagreed:
"The high priest": Augustine, Chrysostom, Alford, Ellicott and Luthardt take this to mean Annas (compare verses 13, 24); but Zahn, like most, takes it to mean Caiaphas.
If it was Annas, one writer explains why he questioned Jesus first, and why the Lord told him so little:
John tells us that Joseph Caiaphas, the high priest at the time of the Lord's death, was Annas's son-in-law. Annas was probably seen as a man with some experience in legal matters. That may explain this informal questioning, before they handed the Lord over to Caiaphas. The chief priests may also have hoped that Annas could get some admission from the Lord which would help toward His condemnation. But he was not high priest, so he had no authority, and the Lord did not go into matters with him. He had no real legal power in such a case.
The high priest had no evidence, and his questions show what he was after:
The question about His disciples and His teaching was meant to get something incriminating from His own lips. They wanted a basis for the death sentence they had already decided to pronounce. The other Gospels tell us that they looked for witnesses against Him and found none. That is why, when He pointed them to the witness of His hearers, they were so irritated that they struck our Lord.
They had already settled the verdict, so this was no trial at all:
Verse 19 shows that the Jews had no charge to lay against the Lord. This was not a trial, but an inquisition in which they were seeking to find an accusation.
The two questions carried a hint about Jesus. His reply takes it apart:
Such questions implied that the Lord was a secret plotter against the authorities. The blessed Lord refuses that implication. He reminds the high priest that He spoke openly to the world, and taught openly in public places. In secret He had said nothing.
His answer also sets Him apart from the men questioning Him:
He wanted grounds against the Lord... The Lord points to His open and constant testimony, but not to shield Himself. Others, unlike Him, might keep private circles and secret teaching — not to mention the darker plans behind deeds that avoided all light of day.
The high priest asked about the disciples. By that hour they had all run:
His disciples! Was the high priest afraid of them? Where were they?... His disciples had scattered like frightened rabbits at the first sign of danger. They were gone. The one who had boasted most about his loyalty to his Master had come back only to deny Him with oaths and curses, beside the kitchen fire with the court servants. His disciples could give the high priest no trouble. But His teaching! Ah, that was different. That ambitious Sadducee, a Jew who had turned away from his own faith, might well have trembled at His teaching. It was the complete condemnation of his life and his ways, and he knew it.
after_note: DELETE
The Lord sent them to the people who had heard Him teach. Their own law said the same thing — a case starts with witnesses, not with the accused:
The law required two or three witnesses to satisfy the court that there was a case to try. Their statement was the beginning of every proceeding. Until someone gave it publicly against a man, the law held him to be not merely innocent but unaccused... The law of the Jews also said, "Our law condemns no one to death upon his own confession," and "it is a basic principle with us that no one can damage himself by what he says in judgment."
- Question. The high priest asks about disciples and teaching — not to learn, but to find a charge, since none existed.
- Cover. The two questions hint that Jesus was a secret plotter; His answer is that He never had a private message at all.
- Witnesses. He does not defend Himself. He points to the people who heard Him teach. Under their law, a case had to start with witnesses, not with the accused.
- Illegality. Their own law condemned no one on his own confession. The question itself broke that law.
- Reversal. The prisoner has nothing to hide. The examiner is the one who should tremble at His teaching.
Jesus answered him, I spoke openly to the world; I taught always in [the] synagogue and in the temple, where all the Jews come together, and in secret I have spoken nothing.
Jesus stands bound before the high priest, who questions Him about His followers and His teaching. He answers by pointing to a ministry carried out in broad daylight, with nothing to hide.
The high priest's opening question was not neutral. Asking about disciples and doctrine carried a suggestion, and the Lord refused it.
The high priest asks Him of His disciples and of His doctrine. Such questions implied that the Lord was a secret plotter against the authorities. The blessed Lord refuses that suggestion. He reminds the high priest that He spoke openly to the world, and taught openly in public places. In secret He had said nothing.
The court had no case, so it tried to build one from the prisoner's own mouth.
They asked about His disciples and His teaching to get something incriminating from His own lips. They wanted a basis for the death sentence they had already decided to pass. The other Gospels tell us that they looked for witnesses against Him and found none. That is why, when He pointed them to the witness of His hearers, they were so annoyed that they struck our Lord.
He referred them to His hearers instead of answering. Their own law shows why.
The law required two or three witnesses to satisfy the court that there was a case to try. Their statement began every proceeding. Until it was given in public against a man, the law counted him not merely innocent but unaccused. ... Further, the law of the Jews was: "Our law condemns no one to death on his own confession." And: "It is a basic principle with us that no one can harm himself by what he says in judgment."
John's account gives no answer from Jesus about His doctrine at all — only a redirection.
In what follows, it seems to me, Jesus takes hardly any notice of the high priest. He does not give an account of His teaching to him, but refers him to those who had heard Him: what He had spoken was in public. In the other Gospels, we do see Jesus reply when they asked Him who He was. But here the high priest's authority disappeared.
The effect is that the judge finds himself judged.
These plain words rebuked the high priest's obvious lack of judicial sense. They made him feel that he stood under the judgment of the Son of God, and not the other way round.
Jesus named two places, and the original wording marks a difference between them.
It was not to screen Himself that the Lord points to His open and constant testimony. Others, unlike Him, might build private circles and give secret instructions. Some even made darker plans that stirred up deeds which avoided all light of day. ... "In synagogue," without the article, for there were many; "in the temple," with the article, for there was but one.
Kelly's note on the phrase points back to Isaiah.
"In secret I spoke nothing." See Isaiah 45:17-19, Isaiah 48:12-18. Notice that the Lord says nothing about His disciples.
There, God says the same about His own speech.
Jehovah, the Creator, had not spoken in secret. He did not tell the descendants of Jacob to seek Him in vain. He speaks righteousness.
Kelly noticed what is missing from the answer. Mawson draws out the situation behind it.
His disciples had scattered like frightened rabbits at the first sign of danger. They were gone. The one who had boasted most about his loyalty to his Master had come back only to deny Him with oaths and curses among the court servants by the kitchen fire. His disciples could give the high priest no trouble, but His doctrine! Ah, that was different. At His teaching that ambitious Sadducee, a Jew who had turned from the faith, might well have trembled. It condemned his whole life and ways, and he knew it.
Openness marks Christianity itself, and Jesus told His followers to live the same way.
The glory of Christianity is AN OPEN BIBLE. ... Our Lord tells us that there is nothing secret that shall not be revealed, and instructed His disciples: "What I tell you in the dark, say in the light, and what you hear whispered, proclaim on the housetops." (Matthew 10:27)
- Open question. The high priest's question hinted that Jesus was a secret plotter. It aimed to draw one self-incriminating word to back a sentence already decided.
- Open answer. He pointed to the synagogues (many) and the temple (one), where He always taught in public. He refused to accuse Himself, as their own law required.
- Open record. He sent the court to those who had heard Him, the witnesses their law demanded. The judge found himself standing under the judgment of the Son of God.
- Open God. Isaiah says the same of God. He has not spoken in secret, and He does not send seekers away empty.
- Open command. Jesus said nothing about the disciples who had fled. What He practised, He commanded: say in the light what you hear in the dark.
Why demandest thou of me? Demand of those who have heard, what I have spoken to them; behold, they know what I have said.
Late at night, Annas questions Jesus about His followers and His teaching, and Jesus points him to the people who heard Him. Was this a trial at all, or a hunt for something to convict Him with?
The examiner asked about two things: disciples and teaching. Neither question was neutral:
The question about His disciples and teaching aimed to get something incriminating from His own lips. It would be the basis for the death sentence they had already decided to pronounce. The other Gospels tell us that they looked for witnesses against Him and found none. That is why they were so annoyed when He pointed them to the witness of His hearers that they struck our Lord.
Part of the force of "Why do you ask me?" lies in who was asking:
It may be that the chief priests hoped Annas could get some admission out of the Lord that would help toward His condemnation. But since he was not high priest, and therefore had no authority, the Lord did not go into the matter with him. He had no real jurisdiction in such a case. "Why do you ask Me?" was the Lord's reply. "Ask those who have heard Me what I said to them; they know what I said." Who could find fault with that?
Jewish law required witnesses to speak first. It also barred a conviction built on the prisoner's own words:
Then the law required two or three witnesses to satisfy the court that there was a case to try. "Their sworn statement was the beginning of every proceeding. Until it was given in public against a man, the law held him not merely innocent but unaccused." … Further, the law of the Jews was, "Our law condemns no one to death upon his own confession," and "it is a basic principle with us that no one can damage himself by what he says in judgment."
So when Jesus sends them to His hearers, He is not dodging. He is asking them to begin where the law says a trial begins.
The question hinted that His teaching was something private, kept for insiders. His answer points the other way:
It was not to shield Himself that the Lord points to His open and constant testimony. Others, unlike Him, might build private circles and give secret instructions. They might also have darker plans, leading to deeds that hid from daylight. … It was true and right, and no one could answer it. The only reply was a brutal insult from a Jewish underling who could support the high priest in no other way.
Notice what the Lord passes over. He says nothing about the disciples:
His disciples! Was the high priest afraid of them? Where were they? … His disciples could give the high priest no trouble. But His teaching! Ah, that was different. That ambitious Sadducee, who had abandoned the faith, might well have trembled at His teaching. It was the utter condemnation of his life and ways, and he knew it. But why did he ask Jesus about His teaching? He had already had testimony about it, and from his own officers. They had been sent to arrest Him on an earlier day, and came back without Him, saying, "No one ever spoke like this man!"
The answer reverses the positions in the room. The prisoner exposes His judge:
The Lord answers in perfect truth, and in a fitting way. He had spoken openly to the world, teaching in the synagogues and in the temple. He had nothing to hide. So there is no reason why He should be on the defensive, trying to explain His teaching to the high priest. Others had heard it. If a witness was needed, He Himself was not the one to give it. … The high priest is made to feel that he is standing before the tribunal of the Son of God, and not the other way round.
- Open. He taught in public — in the synagogue and in the temple, nothing in secret. Witnesses were there for anyone willing to look.
- Unaccused. Their own law held a man not merely innocent but unaccused until witnesses spoke. It condemned no one on his own confession. The question itself broke both rules.
- Trap. They had searched for witnesses against Him and found none. So they wanted words from His own lips to justify a sentence already decided.
- Silence. They ask about His disciples and His teaching. He answers only about the teaching. The scattered disciples were no threat; the teaching was.
- Reversal. No one could answer the reply, so an officer answered it with a blow. The examiner ends up standing before the tribunal of the One he thought he was examining.
But as he said these things, one of the officers who stood by gave a blow on the face to Jesus, saying, Answerest thou the high priest thus?
Jesus has just answered the high priest's questions by pointing to His public teaching. Anyone in the room could check what He taught. What comes next is not a reply but a hand across the face — and a rebuke for the way He answered.
The men whose job was to keep order in the court were the ones who broke it.
No one could answer the Lord's reply. But as so often happens when there is no answer to an argument, the opposer falls back on insult and abuse. So the officers, whose job was to keep order, strike the Lord. The Lord meets these insults with righteous and fearless dignity.
The man who struck Him was an underling, and his motive was to prop up his superior.
The only reply was a brutal insult from a Jewish underling who would in this way support the high priest, since he could do nothing else.
The officer's outrage was on behalf of legal dignity, yet the room he stood in was itself lawless.
But at once a gross violation of justice occurs in the court, under the eyes of the high priest, who does not even reprimand it. An officer struck the Lord with the palm of his hand. He was irritated that the Lord had seen the high priest's breach of judicial order.
The officer's phrase assumes a court with real authority. The man questioning Jesus at this point was Annas, and one writer explains why the Lord gave him so little.
The Lord was first taken to Annas... But since he was not high priest, and therefore had no authority, the Lord did not go into matters with him. He had no real jurisdiction in such a case... One of the officers, however, struck the Lord with the palm of his hand. This was an indignity wholly undeserved.
His answer pointed at what the court had skipped: witnesses.
The whole court must have felt the power and justice of that rebuke, despite its excitement over its own injustice and its success so far. One of them, an officer, lost his head completely and struck Jesus with the palm of his hand. The quiet answer to that blow underlined how illegal the proceedings were without witnesses.
That calm covered more than His own feelings.
They rebuked Him and struck Him for answering, though His answering was an entirely righteous act. His calm reply shows how perfectly He was master of every feeling and of the whole situation.
Paul faced almost the same scene before another council and answered differently. That difference is used to mark what is unique about Christ.
He could righteously vindicate Himself in everything. He could even reprove His accuser and say, "If what I said is wrong, bear witness about the wrong; but if what I said is right, why do you strike Me?" But even Paul, in such a case, had to take back his word, and say, "I did not know, brothers, that he was the high priest."
Jesus told His followers to turn the other cheek. Under this blow He did not.
"If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also." Of course we must be careful to understand these principles. This is not the spirit of defiance, for there can be real pride in that. It is non-resistance to evil. Look at the dignity of the Lord Jesus when they struck Him. He did not turn the other cheek. We must seek to understand the principle of the thing.
Commentators connect this treatment to an old prophecy of Israel's rejected King.
The rejection of the judge of Israel caused their long history of trouble, ending in the great tribulation. It is the Messiah, our Lord. They despised Him, insulted Him, struck Him with a rod on the cheek. He is called the judge of Israel, because the judge held the highest official position in Israel. They regarded a blow on the cheek as the greatest disgrace.
- The blow exposed them. When they could not answer His words, they used violence instead.
- The blow was itself the crime. A court set on guarding the high priest's honour struck an untried prisoner. The high priest said nothing.
- The blow met a title without authority. Annas was not the high priest, so the Lord did not argue His case with him.
- The blow drew out perfection. He did not hit back and He did not stay silent. He asked for evidence, master of every feeling — where even Paul had to take back his words.
- The blow rejected their King. They struck Israel's own Judge on the cheek — the deepest disgrace their world knew — and the nation's long history of trouble follows from that rejection.
Jesus answered him, If I have spoken evil, bear witness of the evil; but if well, why smitest thou me?
Jesus has just told the high priest to ask the people who heard Him teach in public. An officer answers with a blow to the face, and Jesus replies with a question that puts the court itself on trial.
The men whose job was to keep order in the court were the ones who broke it.
The high priest has only to ask those who had heard Him, and they would bear witness to His teaching. No one could answer the Lord's reply. But, as so often when an argument has no answer, the opponent falls back on insult and abuse. So the officers, whose job was to keep order, strike the Lord. The Lord meets these insults with righteous and fearless dignity.
He was struck without any charge, so He asks for the one thing a court must produce: evidence.
An officer struck the Lord with the palm of his hand. He was annoyed that the Lord had seen through the high priest's breach of court procedure. But evil could not draw from the Lord of glory any resentful, bitter response. Instead He asks: if He had spoken evil, let the officer bear witness of the evil, which is the only proper procedure in court. But if He had spoken well, why this violence? Again, only the Lord acts with the calm, judicial fairness of a righteous judge.
The blow came after a rebuke the court could not shake off.
The whole court must have felt the power and justice of that rebuke, despite its excitement at its own injustice and its success so far. The Lord's quiet answer to that blow showed that a hearing without witnesses was illegal.
He can safely ask for evidence, because there is none to find.
The reply of Jesus was conclusive. There was no evil to which any could bear witness: no one could convince Him of sin.
Paul later stood before a high priest who ordered him struck. Even he did not answer like his Master.
Brought before the Council, the apostle begins by declaring his innocence. "And the high priest Ananias commanded those who stood by him to strike him on the mouth." This was violence, certainly. But it came from Paul's own self-justification, not from testimony borne to Christ. Paul replies with an insult, calling the high priest a "whitewashed wall." The man had deserved it, true. But such an answer did not show the meekness of Christ. When he is reproved, Paul owns his fault.
Some argue from this verse that Jesus did not keep His own teaching about not resisting evil. What happened to Him later that night answers them.
Some people pare down and whittle away His words. They are not ashamed to argue that He did not mean them literally. Their reason: when He was struck on the face for His answer to the high priest, He protested calmly while bowing to the insult. Was this paying evil back in its own coin? On the contrary, it was One who committed no sin, and no deceit was found in His mouth. When He was reviled, He did not revile in return. When He suffered, He did not threaten. In fact He offered far more than the other cheek. They spat in His face, beat Him, and struck Him with their hands with the utmost contempt. No! the Lord yielded to wrong instead of resisting it; and such is the true calling of the Christian.
He did rebuke the officer — but only with a question, and He said nothing about the rest.
But the Lord Jesus put His justified rebuke in the form of a mere question, and bore all other abuses silently. … As Christians, God has delivered us out of this present evil world, as Galatians 1:4 says. So we are not called to seek justice for ourselves. Of course, we must not drop our duty toward others if the authorities ask for it (as a witness in court, for example).
- Witness asked. Jesus taught in the open, so He sent His judges to the people who heard Him. The evidence was there for the asking.
- Witness refused. The officer had no answer, so he gave a blow instead. Insult is where opposition goes when the argument runs out.
- Witness demanded. His reply asks the court to name the wrong and prove it. That court was striking a man it could not charge.
- Witness impossible. No one could produce any evil, because there was none. The challenge still stands unanswered.
- Witness followed. He protested, bowed to the insult, and yielded to wrong instead of resisting it. That is the calling of those who follow Him.
Annas [then] had sent him bound to Caiaphas the high priest.
The verse records one movement. Annas has finished with his prisoner and passes Him on, still tied, to Caiaphas, the high priest. It raises two questions. Why did they take Jesus to a man who no longer held the office? And how much of the earlier questioning belongs to Annas, not Caiaphas?
Annas was not the high priest, but he was the high priest's father-in-law. That tie, and his reputation for judging cases, help explain the private hearing before the Lord went on to Caiaphas.
He belonged to the Sadducees. John tells us that Joseph Caiaphas, the high priest at the time of the Lord's death, was his son-in-law. People probably saw Annas as a man with experience in legal cases, and that may explain this informal questioning before they handed the Lord over to Caiaphas. The chief priests may also have hoped that Annas could get some admission out of the Lord to help toward His condemnation. But he was not high priest, and so he had no authority. The Lord did not discuss things with him. He had no real jurisdiction in a case like this.
Annas got nothing out of Him, and the next court was no better.
Annas is baffled, though he has not given up his malice, and he sends Him bound to Caiaphas. John takes no further notice of that trial. It was hardly a trial in form, and it was decided before it began.
Commentators differ over where verse 24 belongs. Some read the hearing of verses 19–23 as Annas's, so that our verse closes it:
The hearing before Annas continued till verse 24. The right translation there is, "Annas then sent him bound to Caiaphas the high priest." Only John reports this hearing. He gives no account of the hearing before Caiaphas, as the other Gospels do. It may be that both of them were occupying the palace of the high priest. But it was Caiaphas who had urged the death of the Lord.
Others take the verse as a parenthesis dropped in to prevent a wrong assumption — that the questioning was Caiaphas's all along:
Verse 24 is meant parenthetically, to correct the hasty assumption that the first general questioning was before Annas, to whom Christ was led first; whereas it really was before Caiaphas, to whom Annas sent Him "bound," though it may probably have been only across the same courtyard.
Others place that hearing before Caiaphas, and some manuscripts even moved the verse:
Most commentators think this verse should come between verses 13 and 14. Some Greek and Syriac manuscripts put it there, and Cyril of Alexandria read it that way. They hold that the questioning and the striking took place before Caiaphas and the Sanhedrin. Other writers think John describes only the informal hearing before Annas, and so passes over the trial by Caiaphas.
The one detail John insists on is the rope. It was not strength that failed.
Only think of the blessed Lord being bound! They had bound Him before, and it seems they had untied that bond. Now they bind Him again. When they bound Samson, how easily he broke the cords! How much easier for our blessed Lord to do so! But no; the hour had come, and He was going to the cross to secure eternal salvation for you and me.
The next court had more than ropes waiting for Him.
They take Him, and bind Him fast. One Gospel says, "Annas then sent him bound to Caiaphas the high priest." Annas mocks Him, and sends Him to his son-in-law, Caiaphas. There He is jeered at, mocked, spat on, and struck with rods... That is what man will do to Jesus, the Son of God... He bears it all in patient grace.
Two men shared the title in one night, and both wanted the same verdict. That is the state Israel's priesthood had reached.
Here, then, we see what the earthly priesthood is like according to the mind of God. It is not what the history of failing Israel shows. That history ends with two wicked men filling the place of high priest at the same time, plotting together to crucify their Messiah.
John sets the sending of Jesus and the denial of Peter side by side.
But the only one in this terrible scene who really loved and knew the Lord takes the lowest place of all. Annas sent Him bound to Caiaphas, and Peter warmed himself while he denied his Lord; for the moment, he was morally one of them. Peter and Judas, apostles; Pilate and Herod, Gentile rulers; Annas and Caiaphas, high priests. Never was there such a company before.
- Bound — the ropes held Him because He allowed it. He could have snapped them as easily as Samson snapped his cords. But He was going to the cross.
- Bound to a man without authority — Annas was no longer high priest and had no real jurisdiction. So the Lord gave him nothing, and the hearing settled nothing.
- Bound to a verdict already fixed — Annas got nowhere, so he passed Him on to Caiaphas. That trial was decided before it began.
- Bound by a ruined priesthood — Israel's priesthood ends with two men in one office at once. They agreed on one thing: they wanted their Messiah dead.
- Bound while a friend denied Him — Jesus goes from court to court. Peter stands warming himself, and for that moment he belongs with the crowd, not with his Lord.
But Simon Peter was standing and warming himself. They said therefore to him, Art thou also of his disciples? He denied, and said, I am not.
Peter's second denial happens while the high priest questions the Lord indoors. John sets the two scenes side by side, and they raise a hard question: how does a man who loves Christ deny Him out loud?
The wording here points to several accusers at once, and Matthew's account fills in Peter's movements.
The second denial took place as Peter stood and warmed himself. It is clear that more than one person came at him at once, because the statement is, "So they said to him." Matthew leads us to judge that after the first denial Simon had moved away from the fire and gone to the porch, where another person saw him. It seems that many different enemies attacked the apostle and followed him about the court. The answers he gave to these attacks are much the same each time, though the wording varies.
Where Peter stood matters as much as what he said.
You well know the sad details that led up to his open denial of his Lord. He slept in the garden. He followed far behind. He sat down in the judgment hall to warm himself at a fire lit by Christ's enemies. Let us beware of fires, of warmth and comfort and pleasure, created by the enemies of the Lord Jesus. How many young Christians have forgotten this, and paid dearly for it. Peter identified himself with the world. He is now ashamed to identify himself with a rejected Master.
The denial did not begin at the fire.
The high priest presses on with his questions; Peter repeats his sin. He had slept when he should have watched and prayed. He had walked into the place of temptation instead of listening to the Lord's warning. ... Bad company corrupts good habits. Confessing Jesus in front of friends is very different from confessing Him in front of bloodthirsty enemies. Peter would not have failed like this before others if he had not already failed with his Master.
The scene shifts from the Master to the servant, and the contrast is the lesson.
The scene changes again. In sharp contrast to the Master, we see how the poor servant does when he is tested. The Lord stands bound before His enemies. Peter stands free among the Lord's enemies, warming himself. ... Like Peter, we have the flesh in us and the devil against us. We have to learn that nothing will keep us from denying the Lord under the stress of fear: no love for Him however real, no knowledge of Scripture however great, no good intentions however honest, no experiences however deep, no gift however great, not even the divine life we have. Only being kept near to the Lord, and strong in the grace that is in Christ Jesus, will hold us up.
Scripture records this failure rather than hiding it.
It is worth noting that this is one of the few episodes recorded by all four Gospel writers. God does not take pleasure in recording the sins of His saints. So we may be sure that this record carries warning and instruction that all saints in all ages badly need. Self-confidence is one of the most common and deep-seated tendencies of the flesh. If we do not judge it and refuse it, it always leads to disaster.
While Peter said "I am not," the Lord had already prayed for him.
May we remember, for our great comfort, that even before we slip, He has been pleading for us, as He pleaded for Peter. "I have prayed for you," said the loving One, "that your faith may not fail." He did not pray that Peter would not fall. He prayed that, after the fall, Peter's confidence would not give way and his faith would not fail. He pleads for us in the same way. That is how He holds us up, and how He restores us when we fall.
Peter's story does not end at the enemy's fire.
His fall happened while he was warming himself at the world's fire, among the servants of the high priest, who was completely hostile to his Master. Now he finds himself beside a fire his Lord had lit. There the Lord not only warms him but feeds him, and he sits among fellow servants as devoted to his Master as he is.
- Steps first. The denial was the end of a road — sleeping instead of praying, then walking into the place of temptation.
- Fire chosen. Peter got warm at a fire lit by his Master's enemies, and took his place among them as though he were one of them.
- Crowd pressing. "They said" points to several accusers at once, chasing him round the courtyard. The wrong fire brings the wrong questions.
- Contrast set. The Lord stands bound before His enemies; Peter stands free among them and denies Him. No love, gift, or experience keeps us standing except nearness to Christ.
- Fire restored. Christ prayed not that Peter would not fall, but that his faith would hold. Later He met Peter again at a fire He had lit Himself.
One of the bondmen of the high priest, who was kinsman of him whose ear Peter cut off, says, Did not I see thee in the garden with him?
This question comes from a man with a personal reason to remember Peter's face. He is a relative of the servant Peter wounded in the garden. The words are not a guess. An eyewitness has identified him. That raises the hardest question of the scene: how can a disciple who drew a sword for his Master now deny knowing Him?
The earlier challenges came from a servant girl and a group at the fire. This one came from a man who had watched the sword fall.
Yet one of the group said, "Didn't I see you in the garden with Him?" What a direct hit, and how deeply it must have cut! And who made it? Strangely enough, it was "his relative whose ear Peter cut off" (v. 26). His relative had seen the blow given, and now recognised the man who gave it. Here we have an eyewitness to Peter's mistaken zeal and murderous behaviour.
Peter thought the sword proved his devotion. It gave him away instead.
They said to Him, "Lord, shall we strike with the sword?" Without waiting for His reply, one of them struck the servant of the high priest. It was Peter who did it, and that was the very action that exposed him. … Possibly Peter thought he was very devoted, and that he was doing a fine thing. What we need is to get the word from the Lord.
By the time the question came, Peter's collapse was already prepared. Commentators trace it back to the garden — not to the sword, but to the sleeping.
The high priest continues his investigation; Peter repeats his sin. And no wonder. He had slept when he should have watched and prayed. He had walked into the place of temptation instead of heeding the Lord's warning. … Confessing Jesus among friends is very different from confessing Him before bloodthirsty enemies. Peter had to learn by painful experience what he was too unspiritual to grasp from the words of Christ. … Peter would not have failed like this before men if he had not first failed with his Master.
Peter had real love for Christ, years of teaching, and a place among the closest disciples. None of it held.
Like Peter, we have the flesh in us and the devil against us. And we have to learn what will not keep us from denying the Lord under the pressure of fear. No love for the Lord, however real. No knowledge of Scripture, however great. No good intentions, however honest. No experiences, however deep. No gift, however great. No divine life that we have. None of these will keep us — unless we are kept near to the Lord, and strong in the grace that is in Christ Jesus.
The eyewitness did not turn up by chance.
What fear of man, bringing a snare! What blinding power of the enemy, to involve a saint in direct and daring falsehood! And this to shame the One who was his life and salvation! But what is the heart not capable of when the Lord is not before it? But God took care that this dread of man, which dishonoured Him, should cover the guilty disciple with self-reproach and contempt and utter humiliation. It happened when an eyewitness could brand him before everyone with his repeated lying denial of his Master.
There was more to see in that garden than a sword blow.
But did the relative, so quick to incriminate Peter, as quickly tell of the healing touch of Jesus? Did he tell how the Master more than put the disciple's fault right, and did it swiftly, thoroughly and gently? This was the very Master whom Peter was now so heartlessly denying. We are not told.
All four Gospel writers record Peter's fall. That is deliberate.
God does not take pleasure in recording the sins of His saints. So we can be sure there is warning and instruction here that all saints in all ages badly need. Self-confidence is one of the commonest and most deep-seated tendencies of the flesh. If we do not judge it and refuse it, it always leads to disaster.
- Garden first. Peter slept when he should have prayed. The courtyard only showed what the garden had already produced.
- Garden returns. The sword blow he thought proved his devotion gave the one witness who could name him.
- Garden exposed. Kelly sees God's hand in sending an eyewitness. Fear of man ended in deep self-reproach, not in a lie left standing.
- Garden healed. The accuser reported a wound. He could also have reported a healed ear, for the Master Peter denied had already put his mistake right.
- Garden warning. Love, knowledge, gift and good intentions did not keep Peter. Only nearness to the Lord, and His grace, keeps us.
Peter denied therefore again, and immediately [the] cock crew.
Peter denies his Master a third time, and a rooster crows. That sound closes this Gospel's account of his fall, and it raises the question the writers press: how did a man who loved the Lord get here?
One writer sets the two scenes in the high priest's house side by side.
How painful the contrast — the Lord before the high priest, and the disciple warming himself with the slaves! More than one attacked him with the crucial question: "You also are not one of His disciples, are you?" Again the fear of man won: the one who truly believed in Him did not confess, but denied it and said, "I am not." And that was not all. A servant of the high priest spoke up, a relative of the man whose ear Peter had cut off. He said, "Did I not see you in the garden with Him?" Peter again denied it, and at once a rooster crowed. What blinding power the enemy has, to draw a saint into direct and daring falsehood, and this to shame Him who was his life and salvation!
Peter did not collapse in one moment. His fall came in stages.
It is very dangerous for a Christian to sit down among the enemies of Christ. The fact that he does it proves that decline has set in and has gone a long way. In Peter's case the stages of decline are clear. First, boasting in his own strength. Second, sleeping when he should have been praying. Third, drawing his sword when he should have been bowing his head in meekness. Fourth, following at a distance. Fifth, making himself comfortable among the open enemies of Christ.
Another writer draws a rule for anyone serving the Lord.
Success in the Lord's work guarantees no security at all. If the Lord is using you in His service, you can be sure Satan is set on sifting you. So the only safe path is to keep as near to the Lord as we can. We must stay as far as possible from all that smells of the world, and from the heat given off at its "fire of coals."
There is a reason Peter's failure was written down at all.
God does not take pleasure in recording the sins of His saints. So we may be sure there is warning and instruction here, much needed by saints in every age. Self-confidence is one of the commonest and deepest tendencies of the flesh. If it is not judged and refused, it always leads to disaster.
Peter's problem was not that he loved Christ too little.
Like Peter, we have the flesh in us and the devil against us. And we have to learn this. No love for the Lord, however real, no knowledge of Scripture, however great, no good intentions, however honest, no experiences, however deep, no gift, however great, no divine life that we have, will keep us from denying the Lord under the pressure of fear — unless we are kept near to the Lord, and strong in the grace that is in Christ Jesus.
One writer names the one thing that turns a fallen believer around.
It is always the word of the Lord that produces real repentance, whether in a saint or a sinner. It is not human feeling, nor shame, nor the fear of being found out — it is the word that Jesus spoke, working within. The word of the Lord does two things: it convicts and it heals.
The timing of the sound carries its own message.
At the darkest hour, the crowing of the rooster announces the coming of morning. Peter's tears are the first signs of a new day for him.
This Gospel never mentions the Lord's look or Peter's weeping. One writer sees purpose in that, not a gap.
Notice what this Gospel leaves out. It does not give the Lord's earlier prayer for Peter, or His assurance that Peter would be restored. It does not give His turning and looking at Peter after that last denial, when Peter remembered the word of the Lord, went out and wept bitterly. Those are set down plainly in the one Gospel whose character they suit and sustain. Here everything turns on the Person of Christ as the one central object, not on the discovery of what man's heart is, or on the grace of the Lord.
Peter's restoration comes later, at another fire.
Peter fell while he was warming himself at the world's fire. He was in the company of the servants of the high priest, a man completely hostile to his Master. Now he finds himself at a fire his Lord had kindled, where the Lord both warms and feeds him. Three times Peter had been tested, and each time he denied his Lord more strongly. Three times now the Lord probes Peter's conscience and heart.
- Wrong fire. Peter's third denial comes where his decline was always heading — warm and comfortable among the enemies of Christ.
- Wrong confidence. Love, gift, knowledge and experience keep no one standing. Only staying near the Lord does.
- Right word. The word of the Lord — not shame or exposure — is what produces real repentance, and it both convicts and heals.
- Right timing. The sound comes at the darkest hour and announces morning; Peter's tears are the first light of it.
- Right fire. Peter fell at the world's fire. The Lord restored him at His own fire, asking three times where Peter had denied three times.