Homily 83 — John 18, verses 1 to 36

“When Jesus had spoken these words, he went out with his disciples across the brook Kidron, where there was a garden, which he and his disciples entered.” [a]

Death is a fearful thing, and full of terror — but not to those who have learned the true wisdom that is from above. The man who knows nothing certain about what is to come, and thinks death is simply a dissolving and an end of life, has good reason to shudder and be afraid, as though he were passing into nothing. But we, who by the grace of God have learned the hidden and secret things of his wisdom, and who consider death a departure to another place, have no reason to tremble. We should rather rejoice and be glad that, leaving this perishable life, we are going to one far better and brighter, one that has no end. Christ taught this by his actions: he goes to his suffering not under compulsion and necessity, but willingly.

“Jesus spoke these things,” it says, “and went out ‘across the brook Kidron, where there was a garden, which he and his disciples entered.’”

Verse 2: “Judas also, who betrayed him, knew the place, for Jesus often went there with his disciples.”

He travels at midnight, crosses a stream, and hurries to reach a place the traitor knew. He lightens the work of those plotting against him and spares them every trouble. He shows the disciples that he came to what lay ahead willingly — the thing that could comfort them most of all — and he places himself in the garden as though in a prison.

“Jesus spoke these things to them.”

“What are you saying? Surely he was speaking with the Father; surely he was praying. Why, then, do you not say that he came there ‘when he had finished praying’?”

Because it was not a prayer, but words spoken for the disciples’ sake. “And the disciples entered the garden.” He had so freed them from fear that they no longer resisted, but went into the garden with him.

But how did Judas come there, and where had he learned where to come? It is clear from this that Jesus usually spent the night out of doors. If he had been in the habit of spending it at home, Judas would not have come to a lonely place but to the house, expecting to find him asleep there. And so that you would not hear the word “garden” and think Jesus was hiding, the text adds that “Judas knew the place” — and not only that, but that Jesus “often went there with his disciples.” For he was often alone with them, talking about essential matters that others were not allowed to hear. He did this especially on mountains and in gardens, looking for a place free of disturbance, so that their attention would not be drawn away from listening.

Verse 3: “Judas, then, having received a detachment of soldiers and officers from the chief priests and Pharisees, came there with lanterns and torches and weapons.”

These men had often sent to seize him at other times too, and had not been able to. From this it is plain that on this occasion he gave himself up of his own will. And how did they persuade the soldiers? They were soldiers, men whose practice was to do anything for money.

Verse 4: “Jesus, therefore, knowing all the things that were coming upon him, went out and said, ‘Whom are you looking for?’”

That is, he did not wait to learn this from their arrival; he spoke and acted without any confusion, as one who knew all these things.

“But why do they come with weapons, when they are about to arrest him?”

They were afraid of his followers, and that is why they came upon him late at night. “And he went out and said to them, ‘Whom are you looking for?’”

Verse 5: “They answered him, ‘Jesus of Nazareth.’”

Do you see his invincible power — how, standing in the middle of them, he disabled their eyes? The darkness was not the reason they did not recognize him; the evangelist has shown this by saying that they had torches as well. And even if there had been no torches, they ought at least to have known him by his voice. Or if they did not know it, how could Judas fail to know it, when he had been with him so constantly? For he too stood with them, and knew him no better than they did, but fell backward along with them. Jesus did this to show that they could not only not seize him, but could not even see him when he was right among them, unless he allowed it.

Verse 7: “He said again, ‘Whom are you looking for?’”

What madness! His word threw them backward, and yet even so they did not turn back. Though they had learned that his power was so great, they set themselves to the same attempt again. So when he had done everything that was his to do, then he gave himself up.

Verse 8: “He answered, ‘I told you that I Am.’” (Verse 5: “And Judas also, who betrayed him, was standing with them.”)

See the restraint of the evangelist: he does not gloat over the traitor, but tells what happened, wanting to prove only one thing — that the whole took place with Christ’s own consent. Then, so that no one could say that Christ himself brought them to this by putting himself into their hands and revealing himself to them, he first showed them everything that should have been enough to drive them back. When they persisted in their wickedness and had no excuse left, he put himself into their hands, saying, “If, then, you are looking for me, let these men go their way.”

Right up to the last hour he was showing his love for humankind toward them. He says:

“If you want me, have nothing to do with these men. Look, I am giving myself up.”

Verse 9: “So that the word he had spoken might be fulfilled: ‘Of those you gave me I have lost none.’”

By “loss” he does not mean here the loss that comes by death, but the eternal kind — though in the present case the evangelist includes the first kind as well. One might wonder why they did not seize the disciples along with him and cut them to pieces, especially since Peter had enraged them by what he did to the servant. Who, then, held them back? Nothing other than the power that had thrown them backward. And so the evangelist, to show that this did not happen by their intention but by the power and decree of the one they had seized, has added, “so that the word he had spoken might be fulfilled,” that “not one” would be lost (John 17, verse 12).

So Peter, taking courage from his voice and from what had already happened, arms himself against the attackers. Someone asks: [e]

“How does the man who was told not to carry a bag, not to have two coats, come to have a sword?”

I think he had got it ready long before, fearing the very thing that came to pass. And if you say,

“How does the man who was forbidden even to strike a blow with his hand become a killer?”

He had certainly been commanded not to defend himself; but here he was not defending himself, but his Teacher. Besides, they were not yet mature or complete. If you want to see Peter clothed with heavenly wisdom, you will see him after this wounded and bearing it gently, suffering ten thousand dreadful things and not moved to anger.

But here too Jesus works a miracle, showing both that we ought to do good to those who do us harm, and revealing his own power. So he restored the servant’s ear and told Peter that “all who take the sword will perish by the sword” (Matthew 26, verse 52). And as he did in the matter of the basin, when he checked Peter’s vehemence with a threat, so he does here too.

The evangelist adds the servant’s name because what was done was very great. It was great not only because he healed him, but because he healed a man who had come against him and who would shortly strike him, and because he stopped the fighting that was about to break out against the disciples over this. That is why the evangelist has put in the name: so that the people of that time could search and inquire carefully whether these things had really happened. And it is not without reason that he mentions the “right ear.” I think he wanted to show the apostle’s impetuousness — that he very nearly aimed at the head itself. Yet Jesus not only restrains him with a threat, but also calms him with other words, saying, Verse 11: “The cup that my Father has given me, shall I not drink it?” He shows that what was done came not from their power but from his own consent, and declares that he was not one opposed to God, but obedient to the Father even to death.

Verses 12 and 13: “Then Jesus was seized, and they bound him and led him away to Annas.”

Why to Annas? In their delight they made a show of what they had done, as though, if you please, they had set up a trophy.

“And he was the father-in-law of Caiaphas.”

Verse 14: “Now Caiaphas was the one who had advised the Jews that it was to their advantage for one man to die for the people.”

Why does the evangelist remind us of his prophecy again? To show that these things were done for our salvation. Such is the overwhelming force of truth that even enemies proclaimed these things beforehand. So that the listener, hearing that he was bound, would not be thrown into confusion, he reminds him of that prophecy: that the death of Jesus was the salvation of the world.

Verse 15: “And Simon Peter followed Jesus, and so did another disciple.” Who is that other disciple? It is the writer himself.

“And why does he not name himself? When he lay on Jesus’ breast, he had good reason to hide his name. But why does he do so now?”

For the same reason. Here too he mentions a great good deed: that when all the others had run off, he followed. So he hides himself and puts Peter ahead of himself. He had to mention himself so that you would understand that he tells what took place in the courtyard more exactly than the rest, since he was inside himself. But notice how he takes away from his own praise. So that no one would ask, “How is it that when all had fled, this man went in farther than Simon?” he says that he “was known to the high priest.” So no one should marvel that he followed, or praise him to the skies for his courage.

The wonder was rather Peter’s part: that though he was so afraid, he came even as far as the courtyard when the others had fled. His coming there was the work of love; his not going inside, the work of distress and fear. The evangelist has recorded these things to prepare the way for excusing his denial. As for himself, he does not treat it as any great thing that he was known to the high priest; but since he had said that he alone went in with Jesus, he gives the reason as well, so that you would not suppose the act came from some lofty spirit in him. And he shows by what follows that Peter too would have gone in if he had been allowed. When he went out and told the girl who kept the door to bring Peter in, Peter came in at once. But why did he not bring him in himself? He was clinging to Christ and following him; that is why he told the woman to bring him in. What, then, does the woman say?

Verse 17: “‘Are you not also one of this man’s disciples?’ And he said, ‘I am not.’”

What are you saying, Peter? Did you not declare just now, “If I must lay down my life for you, I will lay it down”? What has happened, then, that you cannot even bear the questioning of a doorkeeper? Is it a soldier questioning you? Is it one of those who seized him? No, it is a lowly, humble doorkeeper, and the question is not a harsh one. She does not say, “Are you a disciple of that deceiver and corrupter?” but “of this man” — the expression rather of someone who pitied him and was softening. But Peter could not bear any of these words. She says “Are you not also” because John was inside. So gently did the woman speak. But he noticed none of this and took none of it to heart — not the first time, nor the second, nor the third, but only when the rooster crowed. And not even this brought him to his senses, until Jesus gave him that bitter look. He stood warming himself with the high priest’s servants, while Christ was held bound inside. We say this not to accuse Peter, but to show the truth of what Christ had said.

Verse 19: “The high priest then asked Jesus about his disciples and about his teaching.”

What wickedness! Though he had continually heard him speaking in the temple and teaching openly, he now wants to be informed. Since they had no charge to bring, they asked about his disciples — perhaps where they were, why he had gathered them, with what intention, and on what terms. The high priest said this because he wanted to prove him a rebel and a revolutionary, since no one paid attention to him except these men alone — as though his were some workshop of wickedness. What, then, does Christ say? To overturn this, he says, Verse 20: “I have spoken openly to the world” — not privately to the disciples — “I taught openly in the temple.” [k]

“What, then? Did he say nothing in secret?”

He did — not, as they thought, out of fear or to form conspiracies, but whenever his sayings were too lofty for the crowd to hear.

Verse 21: “Why do you ask me? Ask those who heard me.”

These are not the words of someone speaking arrogantly, but of one confident in the truth of what he had said. What he said at the beginning, “If I bear witness about myself, my witness is not true” (John 5, verse 31), he now implies, wanting to make his testimony fully credible. For when Annas mentioned the disciples, what does he say?

“Are you asking me about my own? Ask my enemies. Ask those who have plotted against me, who have bound me. Let them speak.”

This is a proof of truth beyond question: when someone calls his enemies as witnesses to what he says. What, then, does the high priest do? Though it would have been right to make the inquiry in this way, he did not.

Verse 22: “When he had said this, one of the officers standing by struck him with the palm of his hand.”

What could be more outrageous than this? Shudder, O heaven! Be astounded, O earth, at the patience of the Lord and the senselessness of the servants! And what was it that he had said? He did not say “Why do you ask me?” as though he refused to speak, but because he wanted to remove every excuse for senseless behavior. And when he was struck for it, though he was able to shake, to destroy, or to remove all things, he does none of these, but speaks words able to soften any brutality.

Verse 23: “And he said, ‘If I have spoken evil, bear witness to the evil.’” That is,

“If you can catch hold of anything in my words, say so. But if you cannot, why do you strike me?”

Do you see that the courtroom is full of uproar and trouble and passion and confusion? The high priest questioned him with deceit and treachery; Christ answered straightforwardly and as was fitting. What should have been done next? Either to refute what he said, or to accept it. But this is not done; instead, a servant strikes him. So far was this from being a court of justice; the proceedings were those of a conspiracy, and the deed was one of tyranny. Then, having found out nothing further even so, they send him bound to Caiaphas.

Verse 25: “And Simon Peter was standing and warming himself.”

It is astonishing what a stupor had taken hold of that hot and fiery man while Jesus was being led away! After all that had happened he does not move, but still warms himself — so that you may learn how great the weakness of our nature is if God leaves it to itself. And when he is questioned, he denies again.

Verse 26: Then “a relative of the man whose ear Peter had cut off” — grieving over what had happened — says, “Did I not see you in the garden?” But neither the garden brought to his mind what had happened there, nor the great love Jesus had shown there by those words; under the pressure of anxiety he drove all of it from his mind. But why have the evangelists all written about him with one accord? Not to accuse the disciple, but because they wanted to teach us how great an evil it is not to entrust everything to God, but to trust in oneself. But you — marvel at the tender care of his Teacher! Though a prisoner and bound, he took great thought for his disciple, lifting Peter up by his look when he had fallen, and launching him into a sea of tears.

“Then they led him from Caiaphas to Pilate.”

This was done so that the number of his judges might show, even against their will, how thoroughly his truth had been tested. “And it was early.” Before the rooster crowed he was brought to Caiaphas, and early in the morning to Pilate. From this the evangelist shows that though Caiaphas questioned him for a whole half of the night, he was proved guilty of nothing; and so Caiaphas sent him on to Pilate. But John leaves these things for the others to tell, and speaks of what came next.

And notice how ridiculous the conduct of the Jews is. The men who had seized an innocent man and taken up arms do not go into the hall of judgment, “so that they would not be defiled.” Tell me, what kind of defilement was there in setting foot in a court where wrongdoers receive justice? Men who paid tithes of mint and anise did not think they were defiled when they were bent on killing unjustly, but thought they would defile themselves by merely walking into a court of justice.

“And why did they not kill him themselves, instead of bringing him to Pilate?”

In the first place, most of their rule and authority had been cut away once their affairs were placed under the power of the Romans. Besides, they were afraid that they might later be accused and punished by him.

“But what does ‘so that they might eat the Passover’ mean? For he had done this on the first day of Unleavened Bread.”

Either the evangelist calls the whole feast “the Passover,” or he means that they were keeping the Passover then, while Jesus had given it to his followers one day earlier, keeping back his own sacrifice for the Day of Preparation, the day on which the Passover was celebrated in the old times too. But these men, though they had taken up arms, which was unlawful, and were shedding blood, are scrupulous about the place, and bring Pilate out to them.

Verse 29: “So he went out and said, ‘What accusation do you bring against this man?’”

Do you see that he was free of the love of power and of malice? Seeing Jesus bound and led by so many people, he did not assume they had unquestionable proof for their accusation. So he questions them, thinking it strange that they should take the judging for themselves and then hand the punishment over to him without any trial. What, then, do they say? [o]

Verse 30: “If he were not an evildoer, we would not have handed him over to you.”

What madness! Why do you not name his evil deeds, instead of hiding them? Why do you not prove the evil? Do you see how they everywhere avoid a direct accusation, and have nothing to say? Annas questioned him about his teaching and, after hearing him, sent him to Caiaphas. Caiaphas in his turn questioned him, found nothing, and sent him to Pilate. Pilate says, “What accusation do you bring against this man?” And here too they have nothing to say, but again put forward mere guesses. Perplexed at this, Pilate says, Verses 31 and 32: “‘Take him yourselves and judge him by your law.’ So they said, ‘It is not lawful for us to put anyone to death.’” But they said this “so that the word of the Lord might be fulfilled, which he spoke to show by what death he was going to die.”

“And how did the words ‘It is not lawful for us to put anyone to death’ show this?”

Either the evangelist means that he was going to be killed not by the Jews only, but by the Gentiles as well, or that it was not lawful for them to crucify. But if they say, “It is not lawful for us to put anyone to death,” they are speaking with reference to that particular time. That they did kill people, and killed them in another way, Stephen shows, who was stoned. But they wanted to crucify him, so that they could make a public show of the kind of death he died.

Pilate, wanting to be free of trouble, does not drag him through a long trial, but, Verses 33 and 34: “He went back in, questioned Jesus, and said, ‘Are you the King of the Jews?’ Jesus answered him, ‘Do you say this of yourself, or did others tell you about me?’”

Why did Christ ask this? Because he wanted to expose the evil intentions of the Jews. Pilate had heard this saying from many people, and since the accusers had nothing to say, he wants to bring forward what was constantly being reported, so that the inquiry would not be a long one. But when he said to them, “Judge him by your law,” wanting to show that his offense was not a Jewish one, they replied, “It is not lawful for us.”

“He has not sinned against our law; the charge is a public one.”

Then Pilate, seeing this, and as one likely to be put in danger himself, says, “Are you the King of the Jews?” Then Jesus — not from ignorance, but because he wanted the Jews to be accused even by Pilate — asked him, “Did others tell you this?” Pilate, declaring himself on this point, replied, Verse 35: “Am I a Jew? Your own nation and the chief priests have handed you over to me. What have you done?”

Here he wants to clear himself of the matter. Then, because Pilate had said, “Are you the King?” Jesus answers him with a rebuke:

“You have heard this from the Jews. Why do you not make a careful inquiry? They have said that I am an evildoer; ask them what evil I have done. But you do not do this; you are simply making up charges against me.”

“Jesus answered him, ‘Do you say this of yourself,’” or from others? Pilate cannot say straight out that he had heard it, but simply goes along with the people, saying, “They have handed you over to me.”

“So I have to ask you what you have done.”

What, then, does Christ say?

Verse 36: “My kingdom is not of this world.”

He is leading Pilate upward, for Pilate was not a very wicked man, nor wicked in their way. He wants to show that he is not a mere man, but God and the Son of God. And what does he say?

“If my kingdom were of this world, my servants would fight, so that I would not be handed over to the Jews.”

He removes what Pilate had feared for a while: the suspicion that he was trying to seize royal power.

“Is his kingdom, then, not of this world as well?”

Certainly it is.

“Then how does he say it ‘is not’?”

Not because he does not rule here, but because he holds his rule from above, and because it is not human, but far greater than this one and more splendid.

“If it is greater, then how was he taken captive by this one?”

By consenting, and giving himself up. But he does not reveal this at present. What does he say instead? “If I had been of this world, ‘my servants would fight, so that I would not be handed over.’” Here he shows the weakness of kingship among us: its strength lies in its servants. But the kingdom above is sufficient for itself, and needs nothing.

Taking occasion from this, the heretics say that he is different from the Creator. What, then, of the words “He came to his own” (John 1, verse 11)? What of his own words, “They are not of this world, just as I am not of this world” (John 17, verse 14)? In the same way he says that his kingdom is not from here — not taking his providence and oversight away from the world, but showing, as I said, that his power was not human or perishable. What, then, did Pilate say?

Verse 37: “‘So you are a king?’ Jesus answered, ‘You say that I am a king. For this I was born.’”

If, then, he was born a king, everything else he has, he has by his birth, and he has nothing that he received as an addition. So when you hear, “As the Father has life in himself, so he has given to the Son also to have life” (John 5, verse 26), think of nothing else but his birth, and so with the rest.

“And for this I came, to bear witness to the truth.” That is,

“To speak this very thing, and teach it, and persuade everyone of it.”

But you, my friend, when you hear these things and see your Lord bound and led around, count the things of this life as nothing. How can it be anything but strange, if Christ bore such things for your sake, and you often cannot endure even words? He is spat upon — and do you deck yourself out in clothes and rings, and think life unbearable if you do not win a good name from everyone? He is insulted; he bears mockery and scornful blows on the cheek — and do you want to be honored everywhere, and will you not bear the reproach of Christ? Do you not hear Paul saying, “Be imitators of me, just as I also am of Christ” (First Corinthians 11, verse 1)? So when anyone makes a joke of you, remember your Lord. In mockery they bowed the knee before him, tormented him by words and deeds, and treated him with much irony. Yet he not only did not defend himself, but even repaid them with the opposite, with mildness and gentleness. Let us imitate him now; so we will be able to be set free even from every insult. [s]

For it is not the one who insults who gives insults their force and makes them bite, but the man who is small of soul and is hurt by them. If you are not hurt, you have not been insulted; for the suffering that comes from injuries depends not on those who inflict them, but on those who undergo them. Why are you upset at all? If someone has insulted you unjustly, you surely ought not to be upset at all, but to pity him. If justly, all the more ought you to keep quiet. If someone spoke to you, a poor man, as though you were rich, the praise in his words would mean nothing to you; his compliment would be mockery instead. In the same way, if someone insulting you says things that are untrue, the reproach means nothing to you either. But if your conscience takes hold of what has been said, do not be upset at the words, but make the correction in your deeds.

I say this about what really are insults. For if someone taunts you with poverty or low birth, laugh at him. These things are a reproach not to the one who hears them, but to the one who speaks, since he does not know true wisdom. Someone says:

“But when these things are said in front of many people who do not know the truth, the wound becomes unbearable.”

No, it is most bearable, when you have an audience of witnesses present who praise and applaud you, and who scoff at him and make a joke of him. For it is not the man who defends himself, but the man who says nothing, whom people of good sense applaud. And if none of those present is a person of good sense, then laugh at him all the more, and delight in the audience of heaven. For there all will praise and applaud and welcome you. One angel is worth the whole world. But why do I speak of angels, when the Lord himself proclaims you?

Let us train ourselves with these thoughts. For it is no loss to be silent when insulted; on the contrary, the loss is in defending oneself when insulted. If it were a fault to bear what is said in silence, Christ would never have told us, “If anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other to him as well” (Matthew 5, verse 39). So if our enemy says what is untrue, let us pity him even for this reason: he brings down on himself the punishment and vengeance that belong to accusers, and makes himself unworthy even to read the Scriptures. For God says to the sinner, “Why do you recite my statutes, and take my covenant in your mouth? You sat and spoke against your brother” (Psalm 50, verses 16 and 20, in the Greek Old Testament). And if he speaks the truth, he is still to be pitied. The Pharisee, too, spoke the truth; yet he did no harm to the man who heard him, but rather did him good, while he deprived himself of ten thousand blessings and was shipwrecked by that accusation.

So either way it is he who suffers the injury, not you. But you, if you keep a clear head, will gain twice over: you will win God’s favor by your silence, and you will become wiser still — taking the chance, from what was said, to correct what has been done, and learning to despise mortal glory. For this is the source of our pain: that many of us hang open-mouthed on what people think. If we are willing to be truly wise in this way, we will know well that human things are nothing.

So let us learn. Let us count up our faults and set about correcting them in good time. Let us resolve to correct one this month, another next month, and a third in the month after that. And so, climbing as it were by steps, let us reach heaven by a Jacob’s ladder. For to me the ladder in that vision seems to point, in a riddle, to the gradual climb by means of virtue, by which we can go up from earth to heaven — not using material steps, but the improvement and correction of our ways. Let us, then, take hold of this way out and up, so that, having reached heaven, we may also enjoy all the blessings there, through the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory forever and ever. Amen.