(Preached on Trinity Sunday.)
And he was withdrawn from them about a stone’s cast, and kneeled down and prayed, saying; Father, if thou be willing, remove this cup from me: nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done.— St. Luke xxii. 41, 42.
THERE was a time when divines fancied that they could maintain the doctrine of the Trinity by quoting separate texts of Scripture in support of it. That Name, into which generations of men and women and children have been baptised—that Name which, if it means anything, must denote Him in whom we are living and moving and having our being—was supposed to rest on some passages of the Holy Book, or rather upon our interpretation of those passages. Such a habit of mind favoured all irreverence and all unreality. God confounded it. The text on which controversialists relied most was found to be a spurious one. They fought for it as long as they could; at last they were compelled to abandon it.
The loss of such a feeble buttress has proved an inestimable blessing to us. We are suspecting—as yet it is only a suspicion—that awe and worship may have more to do with our faith than disputation. As we have been less able to follow the Fathers of the Church in punishing or denouncing those who dissent from our opinions, we have learnt a little more of what they meant when they spoke in their most rapturous devotions, on their dying beds or at the stake, of the Trinity as the infinite, all-embracing charity, to know which, to dwell on which, is the reward of the spirits in glory, the ground of all trust and hope for sinners upon earth.
‘Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me, yet not as I will, but as thou wilt.’ There is a revelation of the distinction of Persons, of the unity of substance in the Godhead, which we may dwell upon in silence. My fear is, that I should weaken the force and emphasis of this record by discoursing of it. I shall avoid that danger best if I use these words as a key to the events of the last Passover. I shall take the story exactly as it is set down by St. Luke. I should wish you hereafter to compare him with the other Evangelists, and not to evade any of the difficulties which the comparison will suggest. But you will make the comparison most fairly, if you have first pondered thoughtfully on one narrative: you will then look into points of detail seriously, but without exaggerating their importance. And you will find that the great principles which St. John unfolds in those discourses at the Last Supper which he alone reports, are the necessary interpretation of the acts that are recorded here.
I. The people still flocked to the Temple. Each morning Jesus came from the Mount of Olives and spoke of the Kingdom. Was He preparing them for the festival that celebrated the deliverance from Pharaoh? Would that be the signal for His revolt?
The priests must have feared it. Vaguely, perhaps, the people may have hoped it. Would it be better to arrest Him before the day came? Might not they increase the danger if they made the attempt openly before the multitude?
II. ‘Then entered Satan into Judas, surnamed Iscariot, being of the number of the twelve. That is all we are told; it is all we need to be told. The tempter may have presented this thought to the man once and again: ’You could give up your Master; the priests would pay you well if you did.’ He may have driven back the suggestion. It may have been enforced by many arguments: ‘Is this Kingdom of God ever to come? Has Jesus the powers for which you have given Him credit? If He can save Himself He will. ’May not the priests know more about what is right than you ignorant peasants?’ Whatever the voice of the evil spirit said, whatever answers were made to that voice, he prevailed. The man sacrificed himself. The dark power became his master. ‘And he went his way, and communed with the chief priests and captains, how he might betray him unto them. And they were glad, and covenanted to give him money. And he promised, and sought opportunity to betray him unto them in the absence of the multitude’ That was the great object. The priests lived in the dread of a people whom they did not love, as they lived in the dread of a God whom they did not love. It was soon to be proved that the multitude was far less dangerous than they had supposed. That enemy might be brought over to be their servant.
III. ‘Then came the day of unleavened bread, when the passover must be killed.’ The disciples of Jesus must have anticipated that feast with a mixture of fear and hope. They could not doubt it would be a crisis in their lives. But what would come of it? Would they be established as the ministers of a great King? Would the King Himself, according to the strange prediction which they had heard, not understood, be given up to the Gentiles?
‘And he sent Peter and John, saying, Go and prepare us the passover, that we may eat. And they said unto him, Where wilt thou that we prepare? And he said unto them, Behold, when ye are entered into the city, there shall a man meet you, bearing a pitcher of water; follow him into the house where he entereth in. And ye shall say unto the goodman of the house, The Master saith unto thee, Where is the guestchamber, where I shall eat the passover with my disciples? And he shall shew you a large upper room furnished: there make ready. And they went, and found as he had said unto them: and they made ready the passover.’
The command to prepare the feast is the command of a Master. But it is addressed to friends. It does not sound like a royal edict, or as if He meant to arouse the multitude. He is withdrawing from His preaching in the Temple into an inner circle. At the same time He is illustrating the spirit of the original commandment in Exodus. If the Passover was to be a national feast, it was also to be a family feast. Each household was to prepare the lamb and eat of it together. The nation had lost its freedom: it had lost its unity. What was the source of its freedom, the centre of its unity, this little band was to learn and to proclaim. The proclamation, as we hold, has gone forth into all lands. An illustrious historian of our day, writing with no theological interest, only bearing witness to facts, bids us compare the great feast at the beginning of the French Revolution which was to inaugurate the new age of fraternity, with this festival in the upper chamber at Jerusalem. I know not a deeper or more pregnant suggestion. It seems to me worth whole volumes of Christian evidences. But if we use it rightly, we shall not turn it into an argument for the confutation of objectors. We are the infidels who need to be persuaded that the Elder Brother of the race has appeared, that He has established a real fraternity for men. We have lived as if He had offered His sacrifice that we might be less of a family, that we might be more of enemies, than Jews or heathens.
IV. ‘And when the hour was come, he sat down, and the twelve apostles with him. And he said unto them, With desire I have desired to eat this passover with you before I suffer; for I say unto you, I will not any more eat thereof, until it be fulfilled in the kingdom of God. And he took the cup, and gave thanks, and said, Take this, and divide it among yourselves: for I say unto you, I will not drink of the fruit of the vine, until the kingdom of God shall come.’
That intense longing to hold this feast with His disciples, shall we call it a mere human longing? Or shall we separate it, as some do, from the craving for fellowship which is experienced by every peasant, and which has been felt, certainly with not less strength, by those leaders and teachers who have seemed most to dwell apart? Shall we say that it is profane to associate the thoughts and conflicts of Christ with our thoughts and conflicts? We must adopt one of these alternatives, if we do not believe that the human is the perfect image of the Divine; that Jesus possessed the very mind of Him who had been in all ages seeking for communion with the sons of men, whose very nature excludes the notion of solitude; that He felt, in its depth and fulness, the need which human beings have of communion with each other. What was the Passover but the witness that the Highest of all had seen the affliction of His people, had heard their cry, and had come down to deliver them? What was it but the witness that He had established an intercourse with them from age to age? What was the Paschal sacrifice but the bond of this union between the redeemed nation and Him who had stooped to it—but its acceptance of Him as its King and Lord, instead of the Egyptian ruler? For Christ to desire that He might keep the feast of that union, of that dedication, once more with those whom He had chosen to be the witnesses of the Divine kingdom to His countrymen—was not this in the highest sense to do the will of the Eternal Father? Was it not to justify all ties by which the Most High had bound together His creatures—to give society its true consecration?
V. ‘And he took bread, and gave thanks, and brake it, and gave unto them, saying, This is my body which was given for you: this do in remembrance of me. Likewise also the cup after supper, saying, This cup is the new testament in my blood, which is shed for you.’
He desired to eat the Passover before He suffered, not because it was to be abolished, but because it was to be fulfilled in the Kingdom of God. The maxim of His early discourse has never been forgotten. No tittle of the law is to perish. No tittle of the family covenant is to perish. He has come, not to destroy, but to fulfil. Here is the point of the transition. The nation which He had redeemed out of the house of bondage is sinking into a worse bondage, must sink into death. But the symbols of the national redemption are translated into the symbols of human redemption. The purpose of the calling out of the family of Abraham will be manifested. All the families of the earth will be claimed as God’s family. And if the nation is to die, the King of it is to die. If the sacrifice that commemorated the conservation of the nation in its firstborn is disappearing, it is only because the Sacrifice—the Sacrifice of the Firstborn—is about to be accomplished. If the body and blood of Jesus do unite God to man, Heaven to earth—if they have been presented by a Son to a Father—if the Spirit of the Son and Father teaches our spirits to remember that reconciliation and to partake of it, then indeed the unleavened bread and the Paschal wine have been fulfilled in the Kingdom of God—then the New Testament has taken the place of the Old—then the Lord’s Supper has been a true message to men of all peoples. The disciples in the upper chamber and tongues could not tell what the words meant for themselves till they could say to Jews, Greeks, and Latins, ‘They are for you.’
VI. Then comes the sudden cry: ‘But, behold, the hand of him that betrayeth me is with me on the table. And truly the Son of man goeth, as it was determined: but woe unto that man by whom he is betrayed!’ ‘Yes! the traitor is amongst us, in the little flock itself. ’We have not left him in the crowd at the Temple; he is here in the upper chamber. He has stretched his hand to receive the bread and the wine.’ A witness, surely—the witness—that by no narrowing of circles, by no fencing of tables, can you exclude the most false disciple or apostle. Is there not more in these words?
Is not the deepest problem of the universe in them? ‘The Son of man goeth, as was determined.’ Could you bear to think otherwise? Was that which we believe to be the most blessed event in the world’s history not intended, not appointed, by the Father of all? Was He not the Author of the sacrifice? Was it not, in the highest sense, the fulfilment of His will?—’ But woe to that man by whom the Son of man is betrayed.’ Could you bear to think otherwise? Could you believe that the man was merely the agent of the Divine purpose—that his sin was not an act of his will? You must maintain both these propositions, however hard you find it to reconcile them. Perhaps, if we read these words more strictly—perhaps, if we thoroughly believed in our Lord’s death and resurrection—we should see how the gracious determinations of God are to prevail over the stubborn resistance of the human will. I used to think that Judas only was the betrayer, that he is the man of whom it is said, ‘He had better never have been born.’ The words now come to me in a more terrible, yet in a more hopeful, sense, The covetous man, I think, dwells in each one of us—is the enemy of the Son of man in each man. Good were it for each one of us, good were it for humanity, if that traitor had never been born. But may he not die? May not God’s purpose triumph? May not the Son of man have all enemies at last put under His feet?
VII. There was a moment in which this thought of the traitor within seems to have seized strongly on the minds of the disciples. ‘And they began to inquire among themselves which of them it was that should do this thing.’ Could any one say, ‘I may not be the betrayer?’ Blessed, inspired suspicion! From what sins, what betrayal of Christ, might we not each of us have been saved, if we had cherished it instead of transferring our fears and our accusations to our brethren! Were the Apostles, then, much more humble, less ambitious, than men of later generations? Hear:
‘And there was also a strife among them, which of them should be accounted the greatest.’ What, there? at that feast? Yes, my friends, and almost before their self-questioning about the betrayal was over! That cannot have been invented. No compiler of a legend could have brought such contradictions together. And no reader of his own heart can doubt that they exist there; that they may appear in this rapid succession; that one will spring up in revenge for the other, as a kind of compensation for what seems an injury we have done to ourselves. ‘Betrayers! how can that be? Has He not told us that we are to have seats in His Kingdom?’
VIII. ‘And he said unto them, The kings of the Gentiles exercise lordship over them; and they that exercise authority upon them are called benefactors. But ye shall not be so: but he that is greatest among you, let him be as the younger; and he that is chief, as he that doth serve. For whether is greater, he that sitteth at meat, or he that serveth? Is not he that sitteth at meat? but I am among you as he that serveth. Ye are they which have continued with me in my temptations. And I appoint unto you a kingdom, as my Father hath appointed unto me; that ye may eat and drink at my table in my kingdom, and sit on thrones judging the twelve tribes of Israel.’
Did our Lord arrest the quarrel of His disciples about precedence by telling them that they had been wrong in considering Him a King; that He was not really a King; that His Kingdom of Heaven was only a figurative one, or only one to be enjoyed after death; that they must dismiss the dream that they were officers of a kingdom, for it would soon be scattered to the winds? No! in that dreadful hour He did not unteach all His previous lessons. He ratified them. He asserted that He had come to establish a real Kingdom; that it was appointed for Him; that He appointed it for them; that they were to sit and judge in it; that the twelve tribes of Israel would be tried by them. What, then, did He correct in them? That which He had always been correcting in them—the vulgar notion, so natural to them and to us, that a kingdom is a society in which men are enjoying honours and high places, or contending for them. The Gentile monarchies, wherein those who exercised authority were called benefactors, were not the types of the Divine monarchy. There the Chief of all stooped to be the Servant of all. They had been called to share His temptations. He had passed through the great temptation of being asked to take the kingdoms of this world and the glory of them, instead of waiting for the Kingdom which His Father had appointed for Him. If they remembered Him, and resisted as He resisted, they would have power such as no rulers of men had ever exercised. They would do the work which the twelve tribes had been appointed to do. When the voice of the twelve tribes was silent, they would bear witness why the Kingdom had been taken from them, and how permanent and universal it was.
IX. Those who have been with Him in His temptations were now to be sorely tempted themselves. ‘And the Lord said, Simon, Simon, behold, Satan hath desired to have you, that he may sift you as wheat: but I have prayed for thee, that thy faith fail not: and when thou art converted, strengthen thy brethren.’ It was an enemy that desired to sift the Apostle. It was Christ who was on the tempted man’s side, asking that the temptation might be for his strength, not his ruin. Think of that lesson, my friends. Many dark passages in our lives would become clear if we read them by that light.
‘And he said unto him, Lord, I am ready to go with thee, both into prison, and to death. And he said, I tell thee, Peter, the cock shall not crow this day, before that thou shalt thrice deny that thou knowest me.’
Peter had what a great man has called the fore-feeling of his capabilities.’ He had that in him which could and would go to prison and death. He had also that in him which would make him a denier. The chaff must be separated from the wheat. The Holy Spirit, not the Evil Spirit, would conduct that sifting, burning process. The man must be made to know what he is in himself, what he is in union with the Son of man. So he would be able to strengthen his brethren.
X. I think the passage which follows would have been far more intelligible to us if it had been taken along with this. ’And he said unto them, When I sent you without purse, and scrip, and shoes, lacked ye anything? And they said, Nothing. Then said he unto them, But now, he that hath a purse, let him take it, and likewise his scrip: and he that hath no sword, let him sell his garment, and buy one. For I say unto you, that this that is written must yet be accomplished in me, And he was reckoned among the transgressors: for the things concerning me have an end. And they said, Lord, behold, here are two swords. And he said unto them, It is enough.
The Apostles had been sent forth to preach the Kingdom of Heaven. They had the powers which could show what the Kingdom was. They had wanted nothing that was necessary for their work. Did they fancy they should have those powers or those supplies for their necessities now? Let them not dream of it. They would have no swords given them to overcome their enemies. Their Master Himself would be numbered with the transgressors. The end of all the plots of His enemies against Him, of all the purposes of His Father concerning Him, was approaching.
This language would find its interpretation before many hours were over. The disciples would know what the helplessness was which He told them of; how utterly changed their condition was since that day when they went forth in triumph as heralds of a kingdom, and found even the spirits subject to them. At present their minds are only fixed upon the words, He that hath no sword, let him sell his garment and buy one.’ They fancied He must mean them to go forth on that Passover-night, when nothing could be bought, and procure swords. They produce two. Might not these be enough? He answers, probably with a sad smile, ‘Enough.’ As if He had said, ‘My poor children! do you really suppose that I want you to do battle for me with those swords of yours? You will soon see what you have to encounter, and what you and your swords are good for.’ Wonderful things have been said and sung about those two swords. They are, we are told, the civil and ecclesiastical powers. I suppose the authors of that interpretation wish us to understand how impotent both have proved themselves whenever they have attempted to establish the Kingdom of God and overthrow its enemies.
XI. Then follows the passage which I have regarded as the central one of this history.
‘And he came out, and went, as he was wont, to the Mount of Olives; and his disciples also followed him. And when he was at the place, he said unto them, Pray that ye enter not into temptation. And he was withdrawn from them about a stone’s cast, and kneeled down, and prayed, saying, Father, if thou be willing, remove this cup from me: nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done. And there appeared an angel unto him from heaven, strengthening him. And being in an agony he prayed more earnestly: and his sweat was as it were great drops of blood falling down to the ground,’
The Passover-feast, which He had desired with so great a desire, is over. He has had a few hours of fellowship with the twelve. There has been darkness in that room, the sense of betrayal, the prospect of desertion. Still, He had broken the bread and given it to them. He had told them of a Father. He is now but a stone’s cast from them, yet He feels alone. These disciples cannot watch with Him. The priests hate Him; the people are losing trust in Him. And is the Father there? Is He not left to Himself? ‘Father, I cannot bear it! Let this cup pass from me.’ That is the hour of real, though unfelt victory. ‘Nevertheless, not my will, but Thine be done.’ The agony is intense: the Angel from Heaven may soothe the sufferer, but cannot save Him from the bloody sweat. He arises, and bids the disciples pray that they may not enter into temptation; as if He who was always tempted then knew for the first time the whole meaning of temptation; as if He who was always praying then understood the necessity, and yet almost the impossibility, of prayer. My friends, have we not here what this day would teach us? If we think of the Son without the Father, we leave Him in His agony; if the Father is without the Son, what is He but a phantom wrapped in His own greatness standing aloof from all human sorrow? if there is no Spirit uniting them, how was the Son sustained in His hour of darkness, how can we be sustained in ours?
XII. ‘And while he yet spake, behold a multitude, and he that was called Judas, one of the twelve, went before them, and drew near unto Jesus to kiss him. But Jesus said unto him, Judas, betrayest thou the Son of Man with a kiss?’ It is still the same language. Jesus speaks of Judas not as betraying Him, the Master, the Friend, but the Son of Man.’ Judas was giving up the Man, the King of Men, the source of all that had been manly in himself. The kiss, the mockery of love, was the sign that he was cutting himself off from his kind, declaring war with it, retreating into his own outer darkness. ‘When they which were about him saw what would follow, they said unto him, Lord, shall we smite with the sword?’ They did not wait for an answer. They took it for granted. ‘And one of them smote a servant of the high priest, and cut off his right ear, And Jesus answered and said, Suffer ye thus far. And he touched his ear; and healed him.’ So ended the valour of the disciples—their grand attempt to defend Christ’s person, and establish His Kingdom with a sword. It ended in the scorn of their enemies, in the rebuke of their Master, and their own shame. Is there no lesson for us there, my friends? May the like scorn and the like shame pursue every such experiment when it is made by us! The rebuke certainly will.
I am afraid, however, that the high priests and rulers have been on the whole more frequent models for the imitation of the Christian Church than the disciples. ‘Then Jesus said unto the chief priests, and captains of the temple, and the elders, which were come to him, Be ye come out, as against a thief, with swords and staves? When I was daily with you in the temple, ye stretched forth no hands against me: but this is your hour, and the power of darkness. Then took they him, and led him, and brought him into the high priest’s house. And Peter followed afar off’? Those to whom He spoke no doubt argued with themselves that one who disturbed the minds of the people respecting a divine kingdom was far worse than any thief. They believed that they were doing a high act of religion in silencing Him—an act of religious prudence in assaulting Him at night, not amidst the crowd in the temple. And those who judged of right by success must have thought God was on their side. The thing they desired comes to pass. The dreaded teacher does nothing to save himself. His followers prove cowards. There is no resistance in the people. The worshippers of the god of darkness, they who thought him the lord of all, had their way. It was their hour.
XIII. ’And when they had kindled a fire in the midst of the hall, and were set down together, Peter sat down among them. But a certain maid beheld him as he sat by the fire, and earnestly looked upon him, and said, This man was also with him. And he denied him, saying, Woman, I know him not. And after a little while another saw him, and said, Thou art also of them.
And Peter said, Man, I am not. And about the space of one hour after, another confidently affirmed, saying, Of a truth this fellow also was with him: for he is a Galilean. And Peter said, Man, I know not what thou sayest. And immediately, while he yet spake, the cock crew. And the Lord turned, and looked upon Peter. And Peter remembered the word of the Lord, how he had said unto him, Before the cock crow, thou shalt deny me thrice. And Peter went out, and wept bitterly. The story is told by every Evangelist. Not one felt that he had a right to suppress it, or that he could bring out the full Gospel of the Divine King without it. I think Christendom has confirmed their conviction. Whilst it has in terms confessed St. Peter to be the rock on which the Church stands, it has felt the immense worth of this testimony to the absolute feebleness of the highest Apostle when he was not resting upon another rock than himself. Who can tell the worth of it as an education of St. Peter in his high calling to tell all men of a rock on which they might build, and against which the gates of hell shall not prevail? By this story, as by the Virgin’s song, the Church Catholic in all ages has been warned of some of her own greatest temptations. She has carried a practical warning against them in her very heart. Protestants can do little service to their Romanist brethren by denouncing any of their most confused convictions, by weakening their admiration of any person. How much good might they do if they showed that they only refused to acknowledge St. Peter as head of the Church, lest they should set aside his confession and share his denial, lest they should rend the Church in pieces which he sought to unite in its true corner-stone!
The special point in St. Luke’s narrative is the memorable passage in which the Lord is described as looking upon Peter. I see no reason, from the description of the place in which Peter was standing, why the actual eyes of Him who was before the Sanhedrim may not have been turned towards His disciple. Nevertheless, I cannot doubt that he who, in any age, weeps bitterly over a denial of Christ, does so because the eyes which are as flaming fire, which read the thoughts and intents of the heart, have been fixed upon him, and have brought him to confession and repentance.
XIV. ‘And the men that held Jesus mocked him, and smote him. And when they had blindfolded him, they struck him on the face, and asked him, saying, Prophesy, who is it that smote thee? And many other things blasphemously spake they against him.’ When we read such words as these in a country which has for centuries confessed Him who was blindfolded as the King of kings, the King by whom its kings reign, ought we not to ask ourselves sometimes, ‘What should we have done if we had been living at a time when all the rulers of the land, all the religious men of the land, counted Him an impostor and a blasphemer?’ Oh, my friends, if that question leads us to some startling thoughts about ourselves, to some fears lest we might have been among the mockers, then let this be the use to which we turn that apprehension. Let us remember who said—who will say—’ Inasmuch as ye did it to the least of these my brethren, ye did it to me.’ Let us ask that we may be preserved from the spirit of scorn and mockery towards any human creature, lest we should find that we are not essentially unlike the men who struck Him on the face, and said, ‘Prophesy, who is it that smote thee?’
XV. Hitherto it has been night. The day has just dawned, and this is the first spectacle which the light discloses to us. ‘And as soon as it was day, the elders of the people and the chief priests, and the scribes, came together, and led him into their council, saying, Art thou the Christ? tell us. And he said unto them, If I tell you, ye will not believe: and if I also ask you, ye will not answer me, nor let me go. Hereafter shall the Son of Man sit on the right hand of the power of God.’ The question is, Art thou the Christ? He had forbidden His Apostles to say that He was the Christ. He does not care to use that name before the Sanhedrim. For would they understand it? Would they believe Him if He told them what the Christ was—if He spoke of One who baptised with the Spirit? Or if He asked them to tell Him what they meant by the Christ, would that avail anything? He falls back then upon the old name. He affirms what He has been affirming by all His acts and words, that there is a union between God and man. He has been revealing God in the lowliness of the man. He declares that the man shall sit on the right hand of God. The Priests seize upon the sentence. It was not just what they expected. They wished to convict Him of claiming royal rights, as the Son of David; that charge they will renew when they go into Pilate’s judgment hall. Now, they perceive the opening for a more dreadful charge, one of which the Sanhedrim can take cognisance. ‘Then said they all, Art thou then the Son of God? And he said unto them, Ye say that I am. And they said, What need we any further witness? for we ourselves have heard of his own mouth.’ He had not of His own accord taken that awful dignity. As always, He disclaimed glory for Himself. He emptied Himself of all titles; when He spoke of His Father it was that He might say He could do nothing of Himself. But now that He is adjured to speak, and that to speak is to die, He accepts before men that name which had been proclaimed in His baptism. Henceforth it becomes inseparably linked with the Passover night, with the agony, with the Sacrifice. And that name, my friends, will become dearer to us, the more we associate it with the Divine agony; the more we think of the Son and the Father going together to the great Sacrifice; the more we ask for the Spirit that we may offer ourselves acceptable sacrifices. So we shall be able to confess the glory of the Eternal Trinity, and in the power of the Divine Majesty to worship the Unity.