And they who were around him, seeing what was going to follow, said [to him], Lord, shall we smite with [the] sword?
Judas has given his kiss in the garden, and the men around Jesus see what is coming. They ask whether to fight — but where did the swords come from, and why did they strike before He answered?
Earlier that evening the Lord had spoken about a sword, and the disciples produced two. One writer traces their question straight back to that misreading:
Was not the Lord's meaning plain when He said, "It is enough"? If our warfare were with flesh and blood, would two swords be enough? No — the weapons of our warfare are not weapons of the flesh. He did not mean a material sword to resist the world. He was hinting that the world would draw its sword against them, a warning from the Lord that they would have to meet the world's fiercest hatred. Peter failed to see it, and in the garden he used the sword he had boasted about against the high priest's servant.
They put the question to Christ, yet the blow lands before He speaks. One writer turns that gap into a warning about our own praying:
But the disciples were panic stricken. What could they do? They asked the Lord whether they should use their material weapons for defence. But one of them (Peter) didn't wait for an answer. We too may sometimes pray, then excitedly act without an answer from the Lord.
Peter drew the sword for Jesus. That is what makes it wrong — it treats Him as someone who needs rescuing:
But he has belittled and misrepresented the One he wanted to serve. He must have fallen very low indeed if He needed His disciple's sword to get Him out of such hands as these. If He yields, it is to God, not to man; He yields — to take the cup from the Father's hand. And what should the sword do here? Were not heaven's legions waiting on His will?
The impulse behind the question was genuine affection. Weighed before God, it was still something else:
Peter was self-satisfied and self-confident. He also had a powerful energy of personal love for his Master, and it worked from mixed motives and an unhumbled heart. That is what led him to use the sword and cut off the ear of the high priest's servant. Weighed in God's presence, it was flesh and worldliness. Many of the best among us today have the same thing to confess: zeal without knowledge. The zeal aimed at the right object. But much in us as its defenders was wrong, and so were many of the means and courses we took.
A few hours later that courage collapsed:
But the courage of Peter and the rest was courage of the flesh, and it soon failed them. They all abandoned Him and fled. The Son of God stands in complete contrast to everyone else, even the most distinguished. He, perfectly submissive under the Father's hand; they, hasty and violent.
The stroke had a consequence nobody in the garden foresaw:
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. That very action exposed him… When he got into the high priest's hall, the wounded man's relative recognised the man who had used the sword. Possibly Peter thought he was being very devoted, that he was doing a fine thing. What we need is to get the word from the Lord.
What Jesus did next settles the question the disciples asked:
With a word of gentle rebuke to Peter, He stretched out His hand, touched the severed ear and healed it. Before His hardened captors bound those tender hands, their last act was to heal the leader of the men arresting Him… That business was blessing, not judgment. It was healing, not a sword.
The same writer applies it to us. The sword we draw is for ourselves:
How ready we are to draw the sword and slash away when we think someone has wronged us. And we draw it not in imagined defence of the Lord, as Peter did, but in our own defence. A bitter spirit of resentment and retaliation so often rises up in us. How many people we have wounded and harmed by it — people only the Lord's touch can heal.
- Misread. They carried swords because they took the Lord's earlier words literally. Their real warfare was never against flesh and blood.
- Impatient. They asked the right Person the right question. Then they struck before He answered — praying, then acting without a reply.
- Misplaced. Defending Christ with a sword treats Him as though He needed rescuing. Heaven's legions were waiting on His word.
- Exposed. The blow meant to prove Peter's devotion is what identified him in the courtyard. There his courage collapsed.
- Healed. Christ answered "shall we strike?" by touching the wound and mending it. That is the business of blessing, not the sword — the pattern for every wrong we suffer.
And a certain one from among them smote the bondman of the high priest and took off his right ear.
Jesus is arrested at night in Gethsemane, and a crowd comes for Him with weapons. One disciple answers with a sword — and the wound he leaves raises the question of what love should do when its Master is taken.
The disciples had just asked whether they should strike (v. 49). One of them settled the matter before the Lord could reply.
But the disciples were panic-stricken. What could they do? They asked the Lord whether they should use their weapons for defence. But one of them (Peter) didn't wait for an answer. We too may sometimes pray, then rush into action without an answer from the Lord. No doubt he aimed for the man's head, but only cut off his right ear. If the Lord had not been present, this act would likely have started a violent riot.
The man who swung the sword had slept through the hour of prayer. The order of his failures is the lesson.
Such is man — yes, the very best of men! He is self-confident when he ought to be self-distrusting. He sleeps when he ought to be watching. And, we may add, he fights when he ought to be submitting. How out of place a sword was in the company of the meek and lowly Sufferer! Peter was completely out of step with his Master's spirit.
One writer links the stroke to prayer left undone:
If Peter had watched and prayed instead of sleeping, it might have been different. When we fail to pray, we enter into temptation.
One writer weighs the disciple's sword against the Master's grace.
How slow we are to learn grace, or to grasp the unworldly, heavenly nature of Christianity! How slow to learn the differences God has made in the way He deals with people! The law and the sword agreed well together; but grace and the sword do not fit at all. Nature understands the first and is quick to act on it. But the Christian should seek to know the second, and act on that. 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!
The man Peter struck served the high priest, the nation's leading religious figure. One writer asks whose place that servant was filling.
Who was Malchus? He was the servant of the high priest. Is this not remarkable? Was the sound of his master's feet not behind him? It was, though at some distance. It would not have suited the high priest's dignified office to go out at night with that bloodthirsty crowd. They made their way with torches and weapons to dark Gethsemane. No, he stayed behind in his palace. But he sent Malchus to take his place, and Malchus suffered under the stroke of Peter's sword. If the high priest had gone himself, that blow would have fallen on him.
The Lord was not powerless in that moment. Commentators point to what He showed instead.
He could still work miraculously by the Holy Spirit. Indeed, we know from John 18 that He could and did cast them all to the ground by the power of His name. But here we see the witness of His grace to man, even at such a moment, rather than of His own personal majesty. He was about to be rejected and to suffer on the cross.
The one who received that grace had come out to arrest Him.
Elsewhere we read that the Lord touched the ear of the wounded servant and healed him. It was the last miracle of healing the Lord performed before He went to the cross, and the man He healed was an enemy. In the confusion of the hour, Peter's act passed unnoticed.
Peter's blow fell on a man's ear. One writer finds the lasting lesson there.
One case of surgery is left to speak of. It is striking: this one undoes Peter's rash act in cutting off a servant's ear. The act speaks of undue severity — cutting off people's ears instead of opening them. How often our Lord has to undo our poor, blundering use of the sword! A touch is enough here.
- Unwatched. The sword came out of a hand that had slept through the hour of prayer. When we fail to pray, we enter into temptation.
- Unasked. The disciples asked the Lord what to do, but the blow fell before His answer came.
- Unfitting. Loyalty was right; the weapon was wrong. Law and the sword went together; grace and the sword do not.
- Undone. The Lord's touch repaired what zeal had severed — the last healing before the cross, given to an enemy.
- Unhardened. Severity cuts ears off; grace opens them. One touch from the Lord was enough where the sword had only wounded.
And Jesus answering said, Suffer thus far; and having touched his ear, he healed him.
The arrest in the garden has begun, and one of the disciples has already drawn blood. Before His captors bind His hands, Jesus repairs the damage. Two questions follow: what did His brief word mean, and why does Luke alone report this healing of an enemy?
The verse above gives the Lord's brief word as "No more of this!" Older translations read it "Permit even this far." One writer takes it that way — as an appeal to the men seizing Him for room to move His hand.
On His way to the cross, though we know He could have snapped the cords, He asked permission to use His hand. "Permit even this far," He said, and then reached out to heal the servant's ear. How can we divide the human from the divine? May we bow and adore!
All four accounts mention the blow; only Luke mentions the cure. One writer sets the four side by side:
Luke alone, true to his testimony to God's grace, tells us of the Lord's answer, "Permit even this far," and of His touching the ear to heal the wounded man. Matthew alone gives the reproof that warned His servant what it means for saints to fight back in a fleshly way. That fits Matthew's picture of the rejected Messiah who is still the true King of Israel. Mark mentions the fact, but no more. John presents the Lord in unfaltering obedience to His Father, as before in divine power and grace. That fits God's purpose in John's part of the record. Nothing was calmer than His correction of Peter's energy. Nothing was more marked than His submission to the Father's will, whatever it cost.
Peter meant well, but a sword had no place here. One writer sets the disciple's act against the Master's:
How slow we are to learn grace, or to grasp the unworldly, the heavenly nature of Christianity! How slow to learn the differences that God has made in the way He deals with people! The law and the sword agreed well; but grace and the sword are absolutely incompatible. Nature understands the first and acts on it easily. But the Christian should seek to know the second, and act on that. 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!
This is the final healing before the cross, and the man who received it was leading the party sent to arrest Him.
With a word of gentle rebuke to Peter, He stretched out His hand and touched the severed ear and healed it. The last act of those tender hands before they were bound by His hardened captors was to heal the leader of them. The boldness of Malchus and the rashness of Peter only gave one more opening for the absolute goodness in Him to show itself — the goodness that would triumph over all evil. "Did you not know that I must be about My Father's business?" Those are the first words recorded from His lips in Luke's Gospel, and Luke alone records the healing of Malchus. That business was blessing and not judgment; it was healing and not a sword.
A severed part of the body was restored in a moment. One writer answers those who call the Lord's miracles merely human:
The writer has often said this. Let so-called divine healers, Christian Scientists, Mormons, Pentecostalists, Roman Catholics at Lourdes, and others prove their claims of divine healing. Let them restore a severed limb in a moment of time, leaving no trace of the operation — even a part as small as an ear. Then he will at once recognise their claims. Malchus' ear is a test case, not yet matched by any of our present-day so-called divine healers.
Malchus returned to his master carrying the evidence on the side of his head.
Thank God that it is written on the page of inspiration, "He touched his ear and healed him" (Luke 22:51). And so for years Malchus may have stood before his master, bearing the visible mark of the healing touch of Jesus. That mark was a witness that could not perish to His love and pity — the love of One who, "when He was reviled, did not revile in return; when He suffered, He did not threaten, but committed Himself to Him who judges righteously." Such displays of His grace win the heart, and make Him dear to it.
- Wound. Peter's zeal was loyal but misdirected. The sword goes with the law, not with grace.
- Word. One writer reads "Permit even this far" as an appeal to His captors for room to act — from One who could have snapped their cords.
- Work. The last miracle before the cross healed the man leading the arrest party: blessing, not judgment.
- Witness. Malchus carried the restored ear as lasting evidence of love shown to a man who came against Him.
- Way. The grace that undid Peter's blow is our pattern. Nature reaches for the sword; the Christian is to learn grace and act on it.