A blessed Ash Wednesday to you,
dear Christians.
We begin the season of repentance
known as Lent. The ashes on our
foreheads a stark reminder of the wages of sin – death – that has marked itself
on every cell of our body, indeed, our very soul. But even as ashes was away easily with water,
so our baptism has removed the soil and stain of sin from us, and thus also its
consequences. The flesh will die, but we
who are in Christ will live, and one day see a resurrection. The ashes form the sign of a cross, as a
reminder that the death that counts is Jesus’ death, and that in that death we
have victory over the grave. So our
repentance is not despair. It’s not just
sorrow and contrition for sin, it’s also marked by hope – the only hope the
world has ever had – the sure and certain hope that is found in Christ
crucified for sinners. Therefore let us
journey to the cross together in repentance and faith, in sorrow for sin, but
in joy that springs from sins forgiven.
Every year our midweek series
affords us an opportunity to tread off the beaten path somewhat. We have considered the 6 chief parts of the
small catechism, the 7 churches of Revelation, the animals of the Passion, and
many other series. This year, I’d like
to examine some of the minor characters of the Passion account. You might call them the “supporting cast” if
this were a movie. Through them, each
midweek we will delve a little deeper and peel back a few more layers of this
rich and captivating story of our Lord’s passion.
And so we start, tonight, in the
Garden of Gethsemane, at the arrest of Jesus, with a man named Malchus.
18 When
Jesus had spoken these words, nhe went
out with his disciples across othe brook
Kidron, where there was a garden, which he and his disciples entered. 2 Now
Judas, who betrayed him, also knew pthe
place, for qJesus
often met there with his disciples. 3 rSo Judas,
having procured a band of soldiers and some officers from the chief priests and
the Pharisees, went there with lanterns and torches and weapons. 4 Then
Jesus, sknowing
all that would happen to him, came forward and said to them, t“Whom do you seek?” 5 They
answered him, “Jesus of Nazareth.” Jesus said to them, “I am he.”1 Judas,
who betrayed him, was standing with them. 6 uWhen
Jesus2 said
to them, “I am he,” they drew back and fell to the
ground. 7 So he asked them again, t“Whom do you seek?” And
they said, “Jesus of Nazareth.” 8 Jesus answered, “I told you that I am he. So, if you seek me, let these men go.” 9 vThis was
to fulfill the word that he had spoken: “Of those whom you gave me I have lost not one.” 10 Then
Simon Peter, whaving
a sword, drew it and struck the high priest’s servant3 and
cut off his right ear. (The servant’s name was Malchus.) 11 So
Jesus said to Peter, “Put your sword into its sheath; xshall I not drink the cup that the Father has given me?”
( John 18:1-11)
We know little of Malchus, but
surprisingly he is mentioned in all four Gospel accounts. His claim to fame is that his ear was cut off
by Peter in the scuffle that ensued at Jesus’ arrest. Of course, only John’s
Gospel tells us that Malchus was his name, or that Peter was the disciple who wielded
the sword. And only Luke’s Gospel tells
us that Jesus immediately healed Malchus – perhaps not surprising since Luke
himself was a physician. This was Jesus’
last miracle that he performed before his resurrection!
Who was this Malchus? And why does John mention his name? What does the incident teach us about the
Kingdom of God and of the Passion of our Lord?
Let’s consider these questions a little further.
Like many of the minor characters
throughout the Gospels, Malchus is mentioned by name, as we said, though only
by John. This could be for various
reasons. One is simply, that was his
name, and the Gospels don’t shy away from telling us the details of things that
actually happened. These are not fictions
or myths, but Jesus was really arrested in a garden that had a name, by men
that had names, and there are people who knew them all. These little details add to the narrative
those bits of realism that draw us into the story, but it is a true story, and the
names and times and places we are told matter because they are true.
And since only John’s Gospel tells
us Malchus’ name, it could also be that John knew Malchus personally, as it is
also indicated that John had some personal connection to the high priest – a
connection that got him inside during the trial of Jesus. Maybe Malchus was that connection. We also know that the second servant girl who
questioned Peter there was a relative of Malchus.
It’s also a tiny detail, but
notice John mentions it was Malchus’ right ear that was cut off. Again, the details like this indicate a true
eye-witness account. And if his ear was
cut off, was he perhaps not wearing a helmet, and perhaps, then, not a
soldier? And is Peter, perhaps, just
swinging his sword at just the nearest available enemy?
There is also some speculation that
perhaps Malchus was known to the early church, to whom St. John was writing,
possibly even because he became a Christian.
With the healing of his ear, it’s not a stretch to imagine the incident
had a profound effect on Malchus. But it
is just that, speculation and imagination.
We simply don’t know.
We never want to push the
narrative of Scripture past what it tells us, and forget the distinction
between revelation and speculation. Even
the ancient traditions of the church surrounding these events can lead us
astray if not taken with a grain of salt.
What is clear is that Jesus
rebukes Peter’s violence. He doesn’t
condone it in general, and certainly not in this case. This is not how his kingdom comes.
If it was, Jesus could have called
12 legions of angels – that’s 72,000 or so, to his own personal
protection. One angel could have easily
done the job against this bunch. But
Jesus has a cup to drink. He has a cross
to face. He has a death to die for
Peter, and Malchus, and you and me.
Peter’s a slow learner, as are we
all. Jesus already rebuked him, “get
behind me Satan!” when he tried to talk Jesus out of going to the cross. But Peter is still looking for victory and
glory and triumph, not suffering and shame and cross. We, too, often look for another way – our own
way – though it may not be violence, it’s always some exertion of our own will,
our own plan, our own efforts to make things right – when only Christ can.
Peter is not the first, or the
last person to try and take things into his own hands when it comes to
Jesus. Or to come to Jesus’ rescue, as
if he needs Peter’s sword. But Jesus
doesn’t need Peter’s help, or ours. Jesus
is the Savior here. We do well to
remember that.
Another key takeaway here is this:
Jesus didn’t have to heal Malchus, but he did.
Even in the midst of his own troubles, in the act of being arrested,
Jesus acts in compassion. While most of
us would be distracted by the events at hand, too sidetracked to help poor
Malchus, Jesus is not. Though Jesus
faced far worse than losing an ear, still he takes a moment to help this man
who surely meant Jesus no good.
The preacher is practicing what he
preaches when he says “love your enemies”.
And Jesus doesn’t have to save you, but he does. In our sins we are, in fact, enemies of
God. Rebellious and impudent. We are no better than Malchus, or the Jews,
or the Romans, or the bloodthirsty crowds crying for his crucifixion.
But Jesus prays for our
forgiveness. He bleeds for our
redemption. He dies for our healing. He loves his enemies, loves us to death, to
bring us life, and make us his friends.
Now what about that ear? Why the ear?
Just as it would be wrong of us to drift into speculation and go beyond
what Scripture says, nor should we draw any allegorical or symbolic meaning
here as some have done: that Malchus’
ear represents some symbolic refusal to hear and now, after Jesus, we can
listen to God’s word anew. Or that
Malchus stands for all the unbelievers who are hurt by the violence of
believers. These aren’t symbolic
events. They really happened.
But they may serve to remind us of
such truths. Jesus is very concerned about
who has ears to hear his message. Paul
tells us faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the word of God. We are, in our sins, spiritually deaf until
the Spirit comes and opens our ears to the Gospel. All of that is true.
David wrote “create in me a new
heart, oh, God….” And we might well pray, “create for me, new ears, oh,
God…” Ears to hear the word with
clarity, ears to hear it in all of its truth and purity. Ears not stopped by pride or distracted by
the noise of this world. Ears that hear
clearly the condemning law and the forgiving gospel.
This Lenten season, let us tune
those ears especially to his passion, his suffering, his cross borne for us. For Jesus drinks the cup the Father has given,
for Malchus, for Peter, for you. Thanks
be to God.
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