This pericope is the first of six pericopae that depicts the events surrounding the sacrificial death of the Son of God. After gathering his disciples and addressing them privately (chs. 13–16), followed by a prayer of consecration to the Father on their behalf (ch. 17), Jesus now embraces fully “the hour” and the reason for which he came (see 2:4). In this scene Jesus voluntarily accepts the bonds of the Jewish authorities and Roman soldiers, knowing full well that the “cup” that he must drink is from the Father (v. 11). This pericope begins the climactic moment of the Gospel, the purpose for which the Father sent the Son into the world. The reader is given dramatic insight into the intentionality of Jesus’s engagement with the world and the nature of his conflict with those opposing him.
Succeeding where Adam failed, Jesus Christ entered into a garden and surrendered himself to the betrayal of the world, not by force but by his self-surrendered will, in order to drink the cup of suffering from the Father for the salvation of the world.
This pericope corresponds to the basic story form (see Introduction). The introduction/setting is established in vv. 1–3, explaining the location, setting, people, and even the intention of the people involved (Judas, the servants of the Jews, and the detachment of soldiers) around which the plot’s conflict will focus. In vv. 4–9 the conflict of the pericope is directed at Jesus as he is confronted by the crowd that has come to arrest him. In vv. 10–11 the conflict is given a twofold resolution, first negatively by Peter and then positively by Jesus, who resolves not only the conflict involving the arresting crowd but also the misguided intention of Peter. Finally, v. 12 serves to explain the conclusion/interpretation of the activities, making a connection to the pericope that follows (18:13–27).
It is common for contemporary scholarship to examine this section of the Gospel in relation to the Synoptic Gospels, often for the purpose of delineating literary and theological connections. This is especially the case with the Fourth Gospel, which only has a few pericopae that correspond to the material found in the Synoptics. As we have mentioned earlier, the concern of this commentary is not to conjecture about the shared (or lack of shared) material or to reconstruct an event in light of the four accounts so as to align them into one, but to interpret the trial and death of Jesus (and eventually the resurrection) through the interpretive lens of the Fourth Gospel (on method, see Introduction).1
18:1 After Jesus had spoken these things, he went out with his disciples to the other side of the stream of Kidron where there was a garden into which he and his disciples entered (Ταῦτα εἰπὼν Ἰησοῦς ἐξῆλθεν σὺν τοῖς μαθηταῖς αὐτοῦ πέραν τοῦ χειμάρρου τοῦ Κεδρὼν ὅπου ἦν κῆπος, εἰς ὃν εἰσῆλθεν αὐτὸς καὶ οἱ μαθηταὶ αὐτοῦ). A new scene begins as the narrative transitions from the context of the farewell discourse to a new location to which Jesus and his disciples travel. The transition is not only signaled by the location change but also by the “exit” of Jesus. As we discussed earlier, this “exit” serves as the second of two “dynamic exits” that are readily recognizable in ancient drama, serving to mark narrative development and to frame the previous scene, the farewell discourse proper (see comments before 13:1 and on 14:31). Thus, the “exit” of Jesus is also an entrance—“he entered” (εἰσῆλθεν), the beginning of the end, the start of “the hour” (see comments on 2:4). This is the “exit to death” to which the entire narrative has been building up.2 The narrative emphasizes Jesus’s movement in particular. At this point the disciples are almost no different from the readers, who have been moved into a secondary position and are following Jesus with anticipation and wonder.
The narrator explains the movement of Jesus from the context of a familiar occasion of a festival meal to an isolated and anonymous garden, located on “the other side of the stream of Kidron” (πέραν τοῦ χειμάρρου τοῦ Κεδρὼν), a small and well known brook just to the east of Jerusalem.3 The unnamed “garden” (κῆπος) clearly serves to establish the historical context of the scene to follow, but more can be argued. The term “garden” makes an intentional “impression” (see Introduction) on the reader that also serves to establish the theological context of the scene, denoted not only by what might be a purposeful anonymity (in contrast to the details of the “stream”) but also by means of noting that the Fourth Gospel is the only Gospel that even mentions the arrest taking place in a garden.4 The Gospel has so clearly applied a Genesis lens to the story it tells that it is difficult not to see the connection between this “garden” and the first garden in Genesis 2:8–16.5
The argument for this is not only the importance of Genesis for the Gospel but also the significance of “garden,” since the Gospel carefully records how Jesus was arrested at a garden as well as how a garden was the place in which he was crucified (19:41) and resurrected (cf. 20:15)—which is specifically recorded as occurring on the first day of the “week” (20:1), making another connection to the Genesis-creation motif (see comments before 2:1).6 With “garden” being mentioned both before and after the resurrection, it “effectively frames the story of Jesus’s passion.”7 This anonymous “garden” therefore is introduced here to prepare the reader for the eventual and full-orbed contrast between the first and second gardens related to the first and second Adams, a theme to be established shortly (see comments on 19:5).8 As we will soon understand, both gardens saw the production of life and death, but the second reversed the order of the first: the first garden was the place where death was born out of life; the second garden was the place where life was born out of death.9
18:2 Now Judas, the one who betrays him, also knew the place, because Jesus had frequently gathered there with his disciples (ᾔδει δὲ καὶ Ἰούδας ὁ παραδιδοὺς αὐτὸν τὸν τόπον, ὅτι πολλάκις συνήχθη Ἰησοῦς ἐκεῖ μετὰ τῶν μαθητῶν αὐτοῦ). As the narrator’s introduction to the pericope (vv. 1–3) continues, one of the most significant characters is introduced, Judas, who serves as the antagonist. The narrator is careful to describe Judas in relation to Jesus as “the one who betrayed him” (ὁ παραδιδοὺς αὐτὸν). Since his first appearance, Judas has been described in this way by the narrator (6:71; cf. 12:4) and known as such by Jesus (6:64). But Judas is described not only as the betrayer but as the one who “knew the place” (ᾔδει τὸν τόπον), with the place being “a garden” at which Jesus frequently assembled with his disciples.
In light of our analysis of v. 1 and the “impression” created by “garden,” the stated emphasis on betrayal again serves to connect this garden with the first garden. Judas is not alone to be called “the one who betrayed God,” for since the first man (Adam), that is, since the time of the first garden, the whole world has betrayed him (see 1:11). And like the first betrayal, this betrayal also had Satan working behind the scenes (cf. Gen 3:1–5). By positioning the story of Jesus’s arrest within the grand story of Scripture, the Gospel displays not merely “a garden” but the biblical garden10 the place where the world betrayed God. This biblical context makes a garden not only a fitting place for this final betrayal, but also a fitting place for it to be overturned (see 19:41; 20:15). A garden is even a fitting description of the new creation (Rev 21–22).
18:3 Then Judas came there, after receiving a detachment of soldiers and servants from the high priests and the Pharisees, with lanterns, torches, and weapons (ὁ οὖν Ἰούδας λαβὼν τὴν σπεῖραν καὶ ἐκ τῶν ἀρχιερέων καὶ [ἐκ] τῶν Φαρισαίων ὑπηρέτας ἔρχεται ἐκεῖ μετὰ φανῶν καὶ λαμπάδων καὶ ὅπλων). Judas’s act of betrayal was not done in isolation, for Judas brought with him two different groups of people. The first group is described by a single word which we translated as “a detachment of soldiers” (τὴν σπεῖραν), a term transliterated from the Latin term for a cohort of Roman soldiers, which was one tenth of a legion and therefore about six hundred men,11 although the actual number of soldiers for any particular detachment could vary widely; often a maniple would be sent consisting of two hundred men.12 The implication is that the Jewish and Roman authorities were working closely together in this arrest, with the former bringing in the latter as soon as possible, perhaps even well before this day. With passions elevated during Passover, it is likely that the Roman officials happily welcomed the opportunity to work with (and not against) the Jewish authorities to silence a possible rebellion and its leader, a reality supported by the tools (weapons!) they brought with them.13
The second group had apparently also been “received” by Judas, this time from the Jewish authorities who sent with him some of their own “servants” (ὑπηρέτας), a term that refers to a person “who functions as a helper, frequently in a subordinate capacity,” such as an assistant.14 In the context of the Gospel, this term often depicts something like the temple police. The implication is that Jesus had been an obvious problem long enough that both the Jews and Romans were willing to cooperate for his demise.15 Thus, the high priests and the Pharisees sent their subordinates to officially arrest and detain him.
Yet it was Judas, one of Jesus’s own disciples, who was at the head of the crowd made up of both Jews and Romans (gentiles), guiding them to the “place” where Jesus was. As in v. 1, Judas is the focus of the narrative, the leader to whom the others belong (denoted by the third-person singular verb “came” [ἔρχεται], which places Judas as the primary agent of the coming to emphasize his leading role). The depiction of Judas leading is especially surprising when a “commander” was also present with the detachment of soldiers (see v. 12). Thus, the “eschatological showdown” in this garden was an intimate betrayal that involved representatively the whole world.16 With this the introduction and setting of the pericope (vv. 1–3) has been provided for the reader.
18:4 Then Jesus, knowing all that was coming upon him, went out and said to them, “Whom do you seek?” (Ἰησοῦς οὖν εἰδὼς πάντα τὰ ἐρχόμενα ἐπ’ αὐτὸν ἐξῆλθεν καὶ λέγει αὐτοῖς, Τίνα ζητεῖτε;). The narrator now focuses the story back on Jesus and the conflict making its way toward him, explaining that Jesus knew “all that was coming upon him” (πάντα τὰ ἐρχόμενα ἐπ’ αὐτὸν). Jesus has already been depicted as knowing the intention and condition of humanity (2:24–25; cf. 1:47–48; 4:18), and here he is well aware of the coming conflict. The phrase “upon him” may simply refer to the coming conflict, but in light of the cosmological context of the Gospel it may also refer to the larger theological (cosmological) significance of what is being placed “upon him”: the sins of the world (1:29). The approaching crowd (and Peter; cf. v. 10) may be thinking that the issue to be faced was a military confrontation or a political or legal battle, but Jesus knows that it is the sins of the world and the wrath of God that are shortly to be placed “upon him.”
Rather than running or hiding from what he knows is coming, Jesus actually goes out and confronts it directly. In fact it is Jesus who asks the approaching crowd—or mob—if they know their own intentions and agenda. The questions of Jesus in the Gospel usually probe more deeply into the true reality of the scene or person (see comments on 5:6; cf. Gen 3:9). Jesus had asked his disciples almost the same question before (see comments on 1:38): not “whom” but “what do you seek?” (Τί ζητεῖτε). This is a very different “arrest,” one with no attempted escape or denial. It is as if the one they seek is in the position of authority, accessible only by his permission and will (see 10:18). The entire scene to follow (vv. 4–9) is commentary on the prologue’s opening declaration regarding the world: the light shined . . . and the darkness did not recognize or overcome it (1:5).
18:5 They answered him, “Jesus the Nazarene.” He said to them, “I am.” And Judas, the one who betrays him, was standing with them (ἀπεκρίθησαν αὐτῷ, Ἰησοῦν τὸν Ναζωραῖον. λέγει αὐτοῖς, Ἐγώ εἰμι. εἱστήκει δὲ καὶ Ἰούδας ὁ παραδιδοὺς αὐτὸν μετ’ αὐτῶν). The crowd of authorities and soldiers answer the question of Jesus by providing his name, which in the ancient world often involved a person’s first name followed by their city of origin (cf. 1:45). No further explanation was needed since the identity of this person was already “on everyone’s lips.”17 It is important to note that the narrator mentions again the presence of Judas, describing him for a second time as “the one who betrays” Jesus (cf. v. 2) and depicting him as “standing with them” (εἱστήκει μετ’ αὐτῶν). Everyone knew who this was and where he was, for Judas had led the processional (cf. v. 3). The connection made earlier between Judas and Satan (13:2) allows Judas to represent a third authority: the spiritual forces of darkness (cf. Eph 6:11–12). Jesus is opposed here by the authorities and powers of Jerusalem, Rome, and the spiritual forces of darkness.
Jesus responds with what has become for the reader a technical title for his person: “I am.” While the Greek could be more simply translated as “I am he,” even the first-time reader knows full well that more is implied by this statement. It is not the grammatical force of the statement but the force of the Gospel as a whole that allows us to see here what is explicit in every way but the words. This is one of several informal “I am” statements in the Gospel (see comments on 6:35). While all the “I am” statements locate Jesus in the divine identity of God, the informal statements serve to give insight to the particular qualifications of Jesus. This informal “I am” statement depicts Jesus’s sovereign control over the situation. Jesus not only “knew” their intentions (v. 4) but had also already ordained the situation in such a way that it was not the religious leaders or Roman authorities but he, the “I am,” who asked the questions and “sanctified” himself for this moment and his purposes (see comments on 17:19).
18:6 When Jesus said to them, “I am,” they drew back and fell to the ground (ὡς οὖν εἶπεν αὐτοῖς, Ἐγώ εἰμι, ἀπῆλθον εἰς τὰ ὀπίσω καὶ ἔπεσαν χαμαί). The majestic utterance of Jesus is not only grasped by the reader of the Gospel but was also heard with a mysterious force by the crowd, which according to the narrator “drew back and fell to the ground” (ἀπῆλθον εἰς τὰ ὀπίσω καὶ ἔπεσαν χαμαί). The fact that the narrator connects their response to the informal “I am” statement of Jesus only strengthens our interpretation of it in v. 5. At the sound of his voice, they fell to the ground “as if vanquished by a greater army.”18 The depiction here is not a defensive position, as if Jesus and his band of eleven were about to attack between two to six hundred armed men; the narrator describes an act of fear and reverence, even worship. While this response by the crowd accompanied by a detachment of soldiers makes little sense from a historical perspective, in the cosmological context of the Gospel this was a fitting response, even better than they fully realized (cf. 11:49–52). Hundreds came to take his life, and they could make no claim on him: “They are hopelessly outnumbered by one.”19
18:7 Then again he asked them, “Whom do you seek?” And they said, “Jesus the Nazarene” (πάλιν οὖν ἐπηρώτησεν αὐτούς, Τίνα ζητεῖτε; οἱ δὲ εἶπαν, Ἰησοῦν τὸν Ναζωραῖον). In what is like a comedic moment, vv. 7–8 repeat nearly the exact sequence of events recorded in vv. 4–6. Did Jesus repeat his initial question while the Jewish leaders and soldiers were still facedown toward the ground? Did they all rise and compose themselves before answering? The narrative gives almost no clarity to these issues, suggesting that something else is in view. By this the narrative emphasizes the authority and independence of Jesus.20 The repeated question is almost to assist the arresting mob, giving them a chance to reinitiate their intended purpose, now under the guidance of Jesus, the one they came to arrest. Jesus has never been more in control as his arrest, trial, and death are at hand, for it is his “hour” not theirs, and it is according to his authority, not the authority of Jerusalem, Rome, or Satan himself.
18:8 Jesus answered, “I told you that I am; if you are seeking me then allow these men to depart” (ἀπεκρίθη Ἰησοῦς, Εἶπον ὑμῖν ὅτι ἐγώ εἰμι· εἰ οὖν ἐμὲ ζητεῖτε, ἄφετε τούτους ὑπάγειν). Jesus not only restates his identity using the informal “I am” statement (see v. 6) but makes clear that this is his second such statement. This is the third time “I am” has been stated in the narrative, twice by Jesus and once by the narrator. The same sovereign control Jesus exhibited over the encounter with the crowd he now employs in order to disassociate his disciples from his arrest and fate. Jesus had twice directed the crowd to state the person in whom they were interested. Thus, Jesus emphasized their interest in him, “If you are seeking me” (εἰ οὖν ἐμὲ ζητεῖτε), in order to convince the authorities to let his disciples go. If the greater purpose of the coming of Jesus was to remove the wrath of God from his disciples and place it upon himself, he could certainly do the same with the wrath of the world.
18:9—so that the word which he spoke may be fulfilled, “I have not lost one of those which you gave me” (ἵνα πληρωθῇ ὁ λόγος ὃν εἶπεν ὅτι Οὓς δέδωκάς μοι οὐκ ἀπώλεσα ἐξ αὐτῶν οὐδένα). The crowd must have acquiesced to Jesus’s demand, for the narrator interjects to explain how Jesus’s action to protect his disciples is the fulfillment of his earlier statement, which the narrator here more freely summarizes (see comments on 17:12). The narrator’s use of the phrase “so that . . . fulfilled” (ἵνα πληρωθῇ) is used elsewhere to describe the fulfillment of an OT Scripture, which suggests that the narrator is placing “the word” (ὁ λόγος) of Jesus on the same level as the word of Scripture.21 Since the beginning of the Gospel, the scriptural word of God has been equated to Jesus, the Word of God (see 2:22). When Jesus speaks it is “thus says the Lord.” In this way the conflict of the pericope (vv. 4–9) has been introduced to the reader. There is a paradox involving this conflict, however, for the sovereign control of Jesus has made clear that the conflict is less what the world is doing to him and more what he is doing for the world.
18:10 Then Simon Peter, who had a sword, pulled it out and struck the servant of the high priest and cut off his right ear. The name of the servant was Malchus (Σίμων οὖν Πέτρος ἔχων μάχαιραν εἵλκυσεν αὐτὴν καὶ ἔπαισεν τὸν τοῦ ἀρχιερέως δοῦλον καὶ ἀπέκοψεν αὐτοῦ τὸ ὠτάριον τὸ δεξιόν. ἦν δὲ ὄνομα τῷ δούλῳ Μάλχος). The resolution of the pericope’s conflict (vv. 10–11) begins not with Jesus but with one of his disciples, Peter, to depict with overt clarity the deeper conflict in need of resolution. According to the narrator, acting on his own accord Simon Peter drew “a sword” (μάχαιραν), which would have been more like a short sword or a long knife, and cut off the right ear of one of the servants. Peter’s response suggests that he was less than agreeable with the self-sacrifice of Jesus.
The amount of detail given to this particular action of Peter is worthy of note, especially in regard to Malchus, who is not named in any other Gospel (cf. Luke 22:50). The narrator not only provides the injury sustained and the name of the servant but also says that he was “the servant of the high priest” (τὸν τοῦ ἀρχιερέως δοῦλον). The details, specifically the “right ear” and the servant’s connection to the “high priest,” may suggest that rather than being an act of defense, Peter’s response was an act of defiance. Jewish history (Josephus, Ant. 14.366) records a very similar incident, where a high priest was deliberately disqualified from his office by having his ear mutilated.22 While the high priest would not have been directly disqualified by the mutilated ear of his servant, in an honor/shame culture “he would be seriously and suggestively disgraced by having his servant mutilated in this particular manner.”23
It may have been a mere coincidence that this particular person and body part was struck by Peter, but the narrator’s detail may also intend to reveal that Peter’s actions were much more strategic. Even if Peter’s response was more clumsy than calculated, it was misguided. If it was a more personal attack, however, it was closer to at least one significant truth. The resolution to this situation would require the mutilation of the servant to the highest religious authority—not Malchus but Jesus, the servant of God the Father, who fulfilled the office of both “the Servant” and the great High Priest (Heb 4:14).24
18:11 Then Jesus said to Peter, “Put the sword in the sheath! The cup which the Father has given to me, shall I not drink it?” (εἶπεν οὖν ὁ Ἰησοῦς τῷ Πέτρῳ, Βάλε τὴν μάχαιραν εἰς τὴν θήκην· τὸ ποτήριον ὃ δέδωκέν μοι ὁ πατὴρ οὐ μὴ πίω αὐτό;). Jesus commands Peter to put his sword away and then offers a rebuke in the form of a question that functions more as a statement. The metaphor of the “cup” almost certainly stems from its use in the OT, where it serves as a symbol of suffering in general and can more specifically serve as a symbol of the judgment of God.25 This “cup” is what the Father “has given” (δέδωκέν) to him. No soldier of Rome or Jewish leader could assign this to him; only the Father can command the Son. In this way Jesus is not arrested by the soldiers but by surrendering himself to them. His obedience to the Father just happened to coincide with the desires of Jerusalem and Rome (even Satan), not because they could enforce such demands but because the Father had given him that exact “cup” to drink. Thus, Jesus’s statement dictates to Peter not only the true authority behind his arrest but also its true nature. The “cup” that he must drink is the cup of suffering, for the Son is the Suffering Servant whose self-sacrifice allows for the wrath of God to be placed upon him for the salvation of the world (see 3:36).
Earlier Peter had tried to prohibit Jesus from sacrificially serving his body by washing his feet (see comments on 13:38); here Peter tries to prohibit Jesus from sacrificially giving his own body for the more permanent washing. The test of understanding for Peter—and all Christians—is not merely the life of Jesus but also his death. To know Jesus is to know him in his death; his person and his work cannot be separated. The misunderstanding of Peter is intended to guide the reader to the truth and, more specifically, to the crucifixion of Jesus.26
18:12 Then the detachment of soldiers and the commander and the servants of the Jews arrested Jesus and bound him” (Ἡ οὖν σπεῖρα καὶ ὁ χιλίαρχος καὶ οἱ ὑπηρέται τῶν Ἰουδαίων συνέλαβον τὸν Ἰησοῦν καὶ ἔδησαν αὐτὸν). The narrator offers a conclusion to the pericope (v. 12) that in the context provides an implicit interpretation of the scene. The narrator lists the entire arresting party, mentioning again the detachment of soldiers and the servants of the Jewish authorities (v. 3). Different from the first list, however, is the inclusion of “the commander” (ὁ χιλίαρχος), a term that means “leader of a thousand soldiers” that was used less rigidly as a technical term for a military commander or tribune of a large group of soldiers.27 The first list of the arresting party emphasized the force of the group, both Roman and Jewish; but by not mentioning “the commander” until now, the narrator gives greater emphasis here to the authority behind the arrest. But as the careful reader immediately understands, the true authority, the true “commander,” was the Father himself.
The pericope thus concludes with a powerful image of the arrest and binding of Jesus. The correct interpretation of this historical scene understands that this binding is the binding of a sacrifice, the self-sacrifice of Jesus (like the binding of Isaac in Gen 22:9). For the reader of the Gospel, therefore, the conflict has become the conquest.
In this pericope what is often called the passion of Jesus Christ is introduced and initiated, beginning the section we’ve entitled “The Crucifixion of Jesus” (18:1–19:42). The narrative depicts with clarity and precision the purpose and authority of Jesus as he is approached by a collection of Jewish and Roman (and satanic) authorities who seek to arrest him. According to the Gospel of John, no external authority arrested and bound Jesus in this garden east of Jerusalem, for Jesus surrendered himself by his own authority and according to his own plan. Through this pericope the reader is introduced to the start of “the hour” (2:4) of Jesus Christ and is given insight into the nature and purpose of his sacrificial death on the cross.
The argument discussed above is that the anonymous “garden” in v. 1 makes an intentional “impression” on the reader that connects this garden to the first garden in Genesis 2. This is just the start of the Genesis “garden” motif in the Gospel, a theme that frames Scripture from Genesis to Revelation. When the first Adam brought death into the world in a garden, Jesus, the second Adam, brought life into the world in a garden. This is why the “garden” is so significant to John in chapters 18–20, for this garden becomes the place of redemption not revolt, the place of the great reversal, transforming the biblical garden from the place of cursing to the place of blessing—to paradise renewed. For the Gospel of John the betrayal in the garden not only displays the depth of human sin but also the greater depth of the grace and mercy of God. God removed the first Adam from the garden (Gen 3:24), but entered himself as the second Adam to surrender to the curse for the sake of all humanity.
Befitting the first garden and the Genesis lens the Gospel applies to its interpretive telling of the person and work of Jesus, this pericope portrays the cosmic encounter between Jesus and the entire world, represented by the servants of the Jews, a detachment of soldiers from Rome, and even Judas, the representative of Satan and the spiritual forces of darkness. Yet not for a moment did any of the representatives from Rome, Jerusalem, or Satan himself have even an ounce of control over Jesus. On the contrary, from the moment they arrived they were arrested by his authority and bound to the ground by his divine name (v. 6).
From the very beginning of the Gospel, the “world” has been in opposition to Jesus yet unable to comprehend him or overcome him (see comments on 1:5). Even still, it is at the name of Jesus, the “I AM,” that every knee should bow and every tongue confess that Jesus is Lord (Phil 2:10–11). The church lives under this authority and bears his name, “Christ-ian,” and receives his protection so that no one touches the church without the permission of God himself (see ch. 17). The church is not only sent by God into the world but is also sent under the authority of Christ and in the power of the Spirit. Even if only partially, the church now sees the world as Christ saw the mob-like crowd approaching him and engages the world under his authority and by his example of self-sacrifice.
This pericope beckons the reader to see and understand that God is always at work in the world and is always in control. With the rest of Scripture this pericope exhorts belief in the plans and purposes of God, even when the historical circumstances seem dire or seem to lack divine intention. For although the Jews and Romans thought they had performed their duties by capturing Jesus, the very same act was more accurately the perfect performance of the duties of the Son for the Father, not for capturing but for freeing the children of God from the bonds of sin. O church, trust in the plans and purposes of God, no matter how things may at first appear.
Christ serves as an example for us, for we too should expect to receive from the Father (and the Son) our own cup to drink. Even if for a very different end, we too must be prepared and willing to drink the cup assigned to us by God, to endure the cross that is our burden and our calling (cf. Matt 16:24; Luke 9:23). Christ has set an example for the church, exhorting us to understand that the good life is not to be contrasted with dying or suffering and to believe that the Father’s cup, even if full of real suffering, is the most satisfying drink available.