CHAPTER 36

Matthew 26:31–56

LISTEN to the Story

³¹Then Jesus told them, “This very night you will all fall away on account of me, for it is written:

‘I will strike the shepherd,

and the sheep of the flock will be scattered.’

³²But after I have risen, I will go ahead of you into Galilee.”

³³Peter replied, “Even if all fall away on account of you, I never will.”

³⁴“Truly I tell you,” Jesus answered, “this very night, before the rooster crows, you will disown me three times.”

³⁵But Peter declared, “Even if I have to die with you, I will never disown you.” And all the other disciples said the same.

³⁶Then Jesus went with his disciples to a place called Gethsemane, and he said to them, “Sit here while I go over there and pray.” ³⁷He took Peter and the two sons of Zebedee along with him, and he began to be sorrowful and troubled. ³⁸Then he said to them, “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death. Stay here and keep watch with me.”

³⁹Going a little farther, he fell with his face to the ground and prayed, “My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will.”

⁴⁰Then he returned to his disciples and found them sleeping. “Couldn’t you men keep watch with me for one hour?” he asked Peter. ⁴¹“Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.”

⁴²He went away a second time and prayed, “My Father, if it is not possible for this cup to be taken away unless I drink it, may your will be done.”

⁴³When he came back, he again found them sleeping, because their eyes were heavy. ⁴⁴So he left them and went away once more and prayed the third time, saying the same thing.

⁴⁵Then he returned to the disciples and said to them, “Are you still sleeping and resting? Look, the hour has come, and the Son of Man is delivered into the hands of sinners. ⁴⁶Rise! Let us go! Here comes my betrayer!”

⁴⁷While he was still speaking, Judas, one of the Twelve, arrived. With him was a large crowd armed with swords and clubs, sent from the chief priests and the elders of the people. ⁴⁸Now the betrayer had arranged a signal with them: “The one I kiss is the man; arrest him.” ⁴⁹Going at once to Jesus, Judas said, “Greetings, Rabbi!” and kissed him.

⁵⁰Jesus replied, “Do what you came for, friend.”

Then the men stepped forward, seized Jesus and arrested him. ⁵¹With that, one of Jesus’s companions reached for his sword, drew it out and struck the servant of the high priest, cutting off his ear.

⁵²“Put your sword back in its place,” Jesus said to him, “for all who draw the sword will die by the sword. ⁵³Do you think I cannot call on my Father, and he will at once put at my disposal more than twelve legions of angels? ⁵⁴But how then would the Scriptures be fulfilled that say it must happen in this way?”

⁵⁵In that hour Jesus said to the crowd, “Am I leading a rebellion, that you have come out with swords and clubs to capture me? Every day I sat in the temple courts teaching, and you did not arrest me. ⁵⁶But this has all taken place that the writings of the prophets might be fulfilled.” Then all the disciples deserted him and fled.

Listening to the Text in the Story: Genesis 9:6; Exodus 12:42; 2 Samuel 15:1–31; 2 Kings 6:17; 19:35; Psalms 40:6–8; 42:5–11; 55:1–5; Isaiah 50:4–11; 51:17–23; 52:3; Jeremiah 25:15–29; Daniel 7:9–10; Zechariah 13:7–9.

Kings are not supposed to surrender to their enemy without a fight. They may retreat for a time when outnumbered or overmatched by their foes. But they eventually return to battle having rallied the troops and marshaled reinforcements. They may lose the war, leading their army into certain death. But they don’t give themselves up without exacting a toll on their opponents. If a king is going to lose his kingdom in battle, at least he will have died trying to save it. Better to die fighting as a king than to give into a pagan nation and become its slave.

But what happens when a king is opposed by his own subjects, the very people he’s supposed to rule? What does the king do when he is betrayed by his people, when his kinsmen are his enemies, when treason comes from his own house? When his opponents come to do battle, does he stand and fight with those who are faithful to his cause? Or does he vacate the palace and run away, hoping to find safe haven outside the city he once ruled? That’s the very predicament King David faced when his own son, Absalom, led a rebellion against his father (2 Sam 15:1–13).¹ When David got wind of Absalom’s betrayal, what did he do? He retreated, leading his people and the priests out of Jerusalem, down the Kidron Valley, up the side of the Mount of Olives, weeping as they went (vv. 14–30). When David was told that one of his advisors betrayed him by joining the conspiracy, the king prayed to God, “LORD, turn Ahithophel’s counsel into foolishness” (v. 31)—a prayer that was answered when the traitor hung himself (17:23). And, as the story goes, although David waited as long as he could, he was finally compelled to lead an army to retake Jerusalem, which resulted in the cursed death of Absalom, hung from a tree (18:9–15). During the mini-exodus, when David convinced the priests to take the ark of the covenant back to the temple, he said, “If I find favor in the LORD’s eyes, he will bring me back and let me see it and his dwelling place again. But if he says, ‘I am not pleased with you,’ then I am ready; let him do to me whatever seems good to him” (15:25–26)—almost a “not-my-will-but-yours-be-done” prayer.

As the son of David, we might think history was repeating itself in the life and times of Jesus, especially at a time like this. Similarities between these two stories are too obvious to ignore: betrayed by a family member; followers take the same trip out of Jerusalem, ascending the Mount of Olives; weeping and praying on the mountain; traitor commits suicide by hanging himself; son of David dies a cursed death; the king promises to return to the holy city; a “Gethsemane-like” prayer. All of it reads like a Davidic script meant to be played out in the messianic drama of Jesus’s last days. However, like the rest of the story of “Jesus the Messiah the son of David” (Matt 1:1), this king will follow a divine script to establish the eternal kingdom of heaven on our troubled earth. Rather than retreat from his opponents, Jesus goes out to meet them.² Rather than rally his supporters, Jesus expects his disciples will betray him. Rather than have his faithful men fight the battle as he waits anxiously for good news, safe and secure, this son of David gives himself up to be good news, condemned and crucified. Rather than wonder whether the Lord was “pleased with him,” this king prayed to the Lord with confidence, “My Father.” Rather than launch a counterattack, this son of David surrenders. Rather than kill his enemies, this anointed one dies for them. Yes, Jesus is the son of David destined to ascend his Father’s throne. Yet the way he will conquer his enemies and rule the world is like no other king of Israel.

EXPLAIN the Story

Jesus knew that when his disciples saw the gospel of the kingdom coming true, they would be scandalized. It’s one thing to talk about the way of the kingdom; it’s quite something else to incarnate the way of the kingdom. The disciples had a hard time accepting his words; Peter even tried to talk Jesus out of going through with it (Matt 16:22). And yet, as difficult as it was to hear about the cross as the way of the kingdom, they were never offended by it. Certainly, they didn’t like it. They even tried to ignore it. But since it was only talk up to this point, the disciples weren’t scandalized by the cross. Although Jesus kept mentioning it—even saying they would need to bear a cross too—they stuck it out. Even though they ate a meal that symbolized his broken body and spilled blood—Passover would never be the same again—they stayed with him. But Jesus knew the time had come for his disciples to see the good news of the cross. When that happened, Jesus predicted his followers would be tripped up by him, the rock of offense: “This very night you will all fall away [skandalisthēsesthe, “scandalized”] on account of me” (26:31). Death by crucifixion was scandalous, an offense to the Jewish people, and hardly the way the Christ is supposed to reign over sin and death—something the apostle Paul knew all too well: “Jews demand signs and Greeks look for wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified: a stumbling block [skandalon] to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles” (1 Cor 1:22–23). The cross wasn’t a “sign” that anyone was looking for as proof that the Messiah reigns (the cross proved that Rome reigned supreme, not the king of Israel). God striking down the shepherd with a Roman cross would have been hard to see (Zech 13:7). Jesus would offend them all; the gathered sheep would be scattered once again (Matt 26:31).³

The disciples couldn’t believe their ears. Jesus predicted that he would offend them so badly that they would eventually abandon him that very night (vv. 31–35). Peter couldn’t take it. How could Jesus say such a thing about him? The rest of the disciples, perhaps, but not Peter.⁴ Had Jesus forgotten? Jesus called him “the rock” (16:18). Jesus gave him the keys to the kingdom (v. 19). Jesus ensured that Peter was one of three disciples to see the glory of his kingdom (16:28; 17:1–4). There may have been a traitor among them, but it couldn’t be Peter. Earlier that evening Jesus announced that one of the Twelve would betray him, even as Peter and the rest of the disciples protested, “Surely you don’t mean me, Lord?” (26:21–22). But Jesus never specifically pointed out the traitor, leaving it to the Twelve to identify him. This time Peter couldn’t let the accusation hang in the air without making it clear to everyone—especially Jesus—that he wouldn’t be the one to let him down (v. 33). But then, in what must have sounded to the disciples like the unveiling of the traitor (“now we know who it is!”), Jesus predicted that Peter would deny him three times that very night (v. 34). What!? Peter? How could that be? Peter was convinced that he would be the only one not to betray Jesus. Now Jesus has singled him out as the very one who would deny him not once, not twice, but three times, which incited “the Rock” to up the ante: he would rather die with Jesus than deny him (v. 35). Before, he couldn’t stomach the idea that Jesus would be crucified (16:22).⁵ Now he is ready to die with him, resigned to the fact that Jesus’s enemies were powerful enough to get him. Not to be outdone by Peter’s pledge of undying allegiance to Jesus, the rest of the disciples (even Judas?) “said the same” (26:35). But Jesus wasn’t going to argue with them. He said what he said, knowing that Zechariah’s prophecy would come true. When God strikes the shepherd, the whole world will be offended—even the ones who claim to follow him. The Twelve may follow him to Gethsemane. But not a single disciple will deny himself and follow the Lord all the way to the cross.

Is This the Only Way?

Something happened between the first and second times Jesus prayed in Gethsemane. At first he asked God to take away the cup of suffering, knowing that it was possible⁶ (Matt 26:39). The second time Jesus prayed, he was resigned to the fact that he had to drink the cup—that it wasn’t possible to remove the cup until he drank it (v. 42). The difference is staggering.⁷ At first, Jesus considered the possibility that he wouldn’t have to go through with it. He wondered if there was another option, a way out, a different course, an alternative, a “plan B” for the inauguration of his kingdom, the salvation of the world. Clearly Jesus believed that it was possible for him to escape death, for the Father to take away the cup of suffering. Indeed, later that very night Jesus claimed he could “call on my Father, and he will at once put at my disposal more than twelve legions of angels” to protect him from his enemies (v. 53). And so, knowing all this, with the cross before him Jesus was essentially asking God, “Is there any other way for the kingdom of heaven to come to earth?” But then, the second time he prayed, he knew there was no other way. He had to drink the cup of suffering to do his Father’s will. What changed his mind?

Perhaps it was the disciples’ behavior that changed Jesus’s request from “if it is possible,” to “if it is not possible.” Once Jesus and the disciples came to Gethsemane in the middle of the night, he took three disciples from the group (Peter and the two sons of Zebedee) to keep him company as he prayed (vv. 36–37).⁸ After Jesus prayed the first time “if it is possible,” he returned to find the disciples fast asleep (v. 40). A little indignant (I hear an exasperated tone in his voice), Jesus chastised them for their lack of support: “Couldn’t you men keep watch with me for one hour?” (v. 40). Just a couple of hours before, Peter and the rest of the disciples had promised Jesus that they would stick with him to the end, even if it meant death (v. 35). Now they’re sleeping like children. So, Jesus woke them up with the warning: “Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation” (v. 41). This wasn’t only a matter of helping Jesus get through a difficult night. The disciples should have been concerned about their own soul, whether they would “fall into temptation” (peirasmon, which also can mean “test”⁹). Jesus had taught them to pray, “Lead us not into temptation [peirasmon], but deliver us from the evil one” (6:13).¹⁰ Now it was time to live the prayer, for this very night Peter and the disciples would be tested/tempted like never before.¹¹ How would they fare? Jesus already knew what would happen. As he took in the sight of his bleary-eyed disciples, he summed up the entire evening very well: “The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak” (26:41). With great bravado, these men claimed they were willing to die with Jesus. But the way of the cross is more than words; it is incarnation.

“The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak” sounds like an accurate assessment of Jesus’s first prayer.¹² He was willing to do his Father’s will, but he also knew crucifixion takes more than a pound of flesh. Seeing that his disciples couldn’t even stay awake for an hour in the middle of the night may have provided a visual lesson for Jesus. Before he saw them sleeping like babies, he prayed, “If it is possible, may this cup be taken from me” (v. 39). Now, as he returns to pray with his own words still hanging in the air, “the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak,” Jesus understands that it is not possible for this cup to be taken away. Why? It’s because our mortal flesh gets tired, hungry, weary, worn out—even for the Son of God, who took upon himself “the likeness of sinful flesh to be a sin offering,” doing “what the law was powerless to do because it was weakened by the flesh” (Rom 8:3). Resolved to overcome the weakness of his flesh (and ours! Hallelujah!), Jesus prayed, “If it is not possible for this cup to be taken away unless I drink it, may your will be done” (Matt 26:42). The only way Jesus could save us—every bit of us, not only our willing spirit but also our weak, mortal flesh—was to bear the cross. Indeed, Jesus is the only way the kingdom of heaven comes to earth. Enfleshment. Incarnation. He knew it would take a special man, a unique man, the Son of Man, the Son of God, to save us from our sins, especially sleepy disciples who fall into temptation. And so, thank God, he ended his prayer with, “May your will be done” (v. 42)—only to return once again to find his disciples sound asleep “because their eyes were heavy” (v. 43), the weakness of their flesh.

Rather than wake them up again, Jesus let his disciples sleep as he returned to his prayer for a third time, “saying the same thing” (v. 44). Once he was finished praying, Jesus came back to his disciples to rouse them for the last time. Why did he stop praying? Did something happen to alert him it was time to go? Since his disciples fell asleep and didn’t keep watch, there was no one to warn him that his captors were coming. So, one wonders if Jesus could see the mob coming for him given his vantage point on the side of the mountain.¹³ We don’t know for certain where Gethsemane was located back then,¹⁴ but if the current garden is anywhere close to where Jesus prayed that night, he would be able to look across the Kidron Valley at the eastern gate of Jerusalem and see the line of torches coming from the high priest’s quarters near the temple. That makes the episode of his threefold prayer even more compelling.

At first Jesus prays, “Let this cup pass from me,” hoping there was another way. Wondering about his disciples, he returns to check on them, only to find them sleeping, perhaps noticing that Judas is gone.¹⁵ Guards sleeping at their post wouldn’t be much help to him now. Returning to his prayer, he eventually looks across the valley and sees the parade of torches. Resigned to his fate, this time he prays, “May your will be done,” after which he returns to find his disciples bedded down for the night. With very little time left, he prays and waits, having to keep watch all by himself in the middle of the night (that image pains me). Then, as light from the torches pierces the darkness, and the rumble of the rabble draws near, Jesus knows his hour has come. Perhaps any other king would retreat. Surprised by the sneak attack (what happened to the sentinels?), most rulers would quickly fall back one more time, hoping to rally his troops to fight another day. But not this king. Having prayed to his Father, Jesus was ready to die. His enemies wouldn’t take him by stealth, and his betrayer wouldn’t surprise him even though Judas tried to conceal his treachery with a kiss. No! Jesus saw it coming. But his disciples didn’t; they were sound asleep: “Are you still sleeping and resting? Look, the hour has come, and the Son of Man is delivered into the hands of sinners. Rise! Let us go! Here comes my betrayer!” (vv. 45–46).

“Come on, get up. Look who’s here! My betrayer.” These are, in essence, the last words he said to them before he died. Not, “thanks for waiting up with me,” or “I’m grateful for all the times we had together,” or “don’t forget what I told you.” One of the last things he said to his sleepy disciples before he died was, “Here comes my betrayer.” How sad is that? Yet, sadder words are still to come—among which are one of the saddest lines in the entire Gospel: “Then all the disciples deserted him and fled” (v. 56).

“But How Then Would the Scriptures Be Fulfilled That Say It Must Happen in This Way?”

It was a terrible night. Sleeping-on-their-watch disciples, a mob armed with swords and clubs, the Son of Man handed over to sinners, a traitor’s kiss, a man’s ear cut off, Jesus giving up without a fight, the disciples deserting him. Yet Jesus didn’t shrink from the horror. Instead, he tried to get his disciples to wake up enough to go with him to meet the posse sent by the high priests and elders. But while he was trying to rustle the deadheads from their slumber, another disciple greeted him with a salutation and a kiss (Matt 26:47–49). Even though they were suddenly surrounded by a large mob with weapons, the disciples wouldn’t have been alarmed by Judas’s behavior. To their eyes, he was simply greeting Jesus as he’d done probably many times before. Of course, as readers we know that Judas’s kiss wasn’t sincere because Matthew has told us what happened behind the scenes—not only that Judas made a deal with Jesus’s enemies to betray him but also that he had arranged a secret way to identify Jesus for his captors (v. 48). Judas tried to make it look like he was completely innocent,¹⁶ but Jesus wouldn’t let him get away with it. That’s why he said, “Do what you came for, friend” (v. 50)—a curious phrase that could be interpreted as a question (“is that why you are here?”) or an exclamation (“that’s why you are here!”), with “that” referring either to the kiss or the betrayal.¹⁷ Whatever the case, Jesus wouldn’t let Judas’s hypocrisy pass without an “I know what you’re doing” comment. Judas may have tried to act like he didn’t share the mob’s intentions, but we know better. Even though Americans refer to a traitor as a “Benedict Arnold” rather than a “Judas Iscariot,” in our minds Judas’s notorious gesture—to betray someone with a kiss—has become one of the most ironic¹⁸ and, therefore, iconic expressions of betrayal (even more dastardly than stabbing someone in the back). Using a kiss to kill is the ultimate act of duplicity, intended to conceal the cold-hearted soul of an evil man. Yet Jesus is well aware of the one who betrays him with a kiss.

Very few things surprised Jesus that night. He did marvel, however, over his enemies’ effort to take him by force as if they would need an army to arrest him (26:55). What did their precautions imply? That Jesus wouldn’t go peacefully? That he would resist them like any other king, calling upon his disciples to take up arms and fight for his life? That he was leading a rebellion like other revolutionary bandits, willing to use violence to achieve his kingdom agenda? Of course, the slave standing there with only one ear, blood streaming down his neck, could ask sarcastically, “What was your first clue?” It’s hard to believe that all these swords were really unnecessary when it was one of Jesus’s company who struck first (v. 51). Obviously, Jesus’s enemies weren’t surprised at all that one of his disciples carried and used his weapon even though Jesus had preached to “love your enemies.” They didn’t take him at his word, and neither did his disciples.¹⁹ Nevertheless, for several reasons, Jesus dismissed the whole affair as a farce.

First, they all should have known (both his enemies and his disciples) that Jesus wouldn’t countenance violence on his behalf because “all who draw the sword will die by the sword” (v. 52)—a lesson the Romans taught the Jews all the time. Second, if Jesus really wanted to fight to save his life, he had a heavenly host, an irrepressible army of angels ready at his command (v. 53). This pitiful mob with their little weapons would have been no match for the King of men and angels. Third, Jesus lived by the Scriptures. The prophets predicted this would happen; Jesus had told his disciples the same thing, quoting Zechariah, earlier that evening. Had they forgotten? What happened to Jesus that night—everything from the betrayal to his arrest to his disciples forsaking him like scattered sheep—fulfilled the Scriptures (Matt 26:54, 56). So, why would he resist? He came to do his Father’s will, clearly revealed in God’s word. Finally, if the chief priests and elders truly believed Jesus was so dangerous that they needed a lynch mob to take him by force as quickly as possible (“no time for sleep, boys; let’s get the vermin now”), why didn’t they take care of the matter when he was in the temple, right under their noses, in their domain? That would have been their prime opportunity, after Jesus had “defiled” the temple, but they did nothing. He even returned to them the next day, daring them to do something, and all they did was try to trap him with a riddle (v. 55). Really? A war of words? That’s all they could do? Please. Everyone knew the priests had a temple guard at their command, ready to do their dirty work.²⁰ So, why the big show of force now, in the middle of the night, when all of Jerusalem sleeps? The answer is obvious: the chief priests may have lost the war of words in the temple with all the people watching, but this time they would take matters into their own hands under the cover of darkness. They were the ones trying to enforce the kingdom of God with human weapons. But Jesus came to bring an entirely different kingdom to earth, one that relies upon the power of God and not the weapons of men,²¹ which also explains why “all the disciples deserted him and fled” (v. 56). There was nothing left for them to do but scatter like sheep.

LIVE the Story

Like the parables of Jesus, this story has a reflective quality that says a lot about us, often revealing where we are in the journey of following Christ. Our eyes are drawn to the two main characters, identifying with Jesus or Judas, depending on what we are experiencing at the time. Sometimes we see ourselves in the passion of Jesus, experiencing our own “Gethsemane,” praying our hearts out, hoping God will find another way as we face a torturous future. At other times, we identify with Judas, having betrayed Jesus with the kiss of our lip service, pretending like he’s our Lord even though we’ve already forsaken him for a little cash. Certainly, there are lessons to be learned when we wear the existential clothes of either Jesus or Judas. For example, it’s the hardest prayer to pray, “Not my will but yours be done,” when all we can see is a cross before us—a cursed death. “If he really loves me, why would he make me go through this?” All alone in the darkness of the night, evil and suffering show up in spades. Fear and anxiety pump through your body like blood rushing through your veins. Headaches. Night sweats. Where is the hope? Where is the comfort? Where is God? Having spent a sleepless night despairing over troubles that wait for you like a greedy serpent ready to swallow you whole (while the rest of the world lies comfortable in their beds), you wonder, “How did he do it? How did he face down the giant, the hellish torment of unyielding despair? All I can see in the darkness is pain. Why does it have to be this way? Why does it hurt so bad? Why doesn’t God do something?” Then you remember. God did do something. He made a way through the dark night because his Son not only prayed the hardest prayer, “Not my will but yours be done,” but he lived it.

Then there’s Judas. How many times have we heard the unfaithfulness of a Christian compared to betraying Jesus with a kiss? It’s because sin can be cold and calculating, requiring the hard heart of a traitor. We know it’s wrong. We even know the Lord already knows of our intent to betray him. But, we’ll go through with it anyway, turning our back on him for an immediate payoff. Afterward, when we come to him in prayer, we try to cover our betrayal with the kiss of affectionate words, “Greetings, Lord!”—pretending like we are not as bad as other sinners, trying to distance ourselves from the nefarious mob and their wicked intentions. But then, like Judas, remorse eventually kicks in. The truth of our selfish ways comes to roost in our wayward soul, weighing upon us with heavy regret. Connecting the dots, we cannot deny our sin has led to his death. Ashamed, we see our reflection in the face of the one who betrayed Jesus with a kiss. And yet, for all the emotional connection we may find in the story of Judas’s betrayal, there is a huge difference between our inclination and his resignation: damnation. Jesus said of him, “It would be better for him if he had not been born!” (Matt 26:24). But Jesus said of the rest of his disciples—everyone who would deny him that very night—“But after I have risen, I will go ahead of you into Galilee” (v. 32).²² Jesus knew that, unlike Judas, his disciples would learn to follow him again. Even though they had given up on him as their king because of the way of his kingdom, scandalized by the cross, he would never give up on them. His resurrection would result in their restoration.²³

So maybe our eyes should be drawn to the rest of the disciples to consider how we live that part of the story too. It seems to me that in the everyday experience of trying to follow Jesus, we come closer to the behavior of the eleven disciples that night than the worst traitor of all time or the most obedient man who ever lived. Consider the similarities.

“The Spirit Is Willing, but the Flesh Is Weak”

We’ve heard this many times, but it doesn’t make it any less true. The things that trouble Jesus don’t keep us awake at night. Sure, when I’m in trouble or when the people I love are in trouble, I can’t sleep. Tossing and turning, my mind won’t turn off as I endlessly contemplate worst-case scenarios that could lead to disastrous results. So, I pray, and pray, and pray. But when I hear of other people’s problems, I may say a quick prayer but then I easily drift off to sleep for a good night’s rest. I’d like to think, after seeing Jesus “overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death” (Matt 26:38), that I would pray for him through the night, keeping him company as he faced his destiny. But since I have never done that for the “least of these,” then it’s more likely that I would have bedded down for the night along with Peter and the rest of the disciples. It’s not that I don’t care. It’s just that my comfort means more to me than the kingdom of heaven coming to earth.

“Couldn’t you men keep watch with me for one hour?” Wake us up, Lord.

“Put Your Sword Back in Its Place”

I’ve seen this happen many times too. There’s usually a lot of damage done when disciples try to save Jesus from his enemies. We act like we’re his bodyguards, appointed to protect him from those who oppose God. Awakened from our slumber—what’s going on here?—we decide the best course of action is to start hacking away with our weapons. After all, could there be a more righteous cause than to protect our king from those who would attack his kingdom? But Jesus would rebuff our pretentious attempts to fight his battle with our human weapons. Have we forgotten that he could marshal a force so terrible, so powerful, so irrepressible that no human army could oppose it—that the King could call upon legions of angels at a moment’s notice to protect him and destroy the enemy if he wanted to?²⁴ But he has chosen a better way, the will of God. Rather than kill his enemies, Jesus chose to die for them. The cross is the only weapon Jesus would use against the enemies of God. So, what he said about the kingdom of men is also true of the kingdom of God, “for all who live by the cross will die by the cross.”

“Do you think I cannot call on my Father?” Help us, Lord.

“Then All the Disciples Deserted Him and Fled”

“That’s no way to win the war! Surrender to the enemy? What good will that do?” The disciples’ heads must have been spinning. They tried to live up to their oath. They were willing to fight to the end, prepared to die for the cause of Christ. But Jesus made them stop. He gave up without a fight. He said it had to be this way. Of course, they hadn’t come to the same realization that it was God’s will for Jesus to drink the cup of suffering. They were asleep when Jesus prayed, not knowing how he went from “if it is possible” to “if it is not possible.” To their way of thinking, it was still possible to avoid the cross. Evidently, they couldn’t believe Jesus meant what he said: “For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will find it” (Matt 16:25). They were willing to lose their lives, on their terms, with their weapons. But Jesus came to bring the kingdom of heaven (not the kingdom of men) to earth. So, when Jesus’s words became reality—the way of the cross fleshed out right before their eyes—they couldn’t stand to watch, much less follow him. What a strange way for the King to rule the world! Who would believe it?

“But this has all taken place that the writings of the prophets might be fulfilled.” Restore us, Lord.

1. Davies and Allison, Matthew, 3:484.

2. Ibid., 3:483.

3. Evans, Matthew, 433.

4. According to Brown, Peter didn’t refute the prophecy. He was only trying to get Jesus to make an exception (Death of the Messiah, 2:133).

5. Brown, Death of the Messiah, 1:138.

6. A first-class conditional clause, the protasis could be translated, “Since it is possible, let this cup be taken away from me.” Was Jesus asking God to change his mind? See Davies and Allison, Matthew, 3:497; Luz, Matthew, 2:396. “In the biblical outlook, it is not irreverent to ask God for a change of mind” (Brown, Death of the Messiah, 1:166).

7. So also Luz, Matthew, 3:397. Davies and Allison deny there’s a difference: “But it does not represent an advance over Mt 26:39, as if Jesus is now more resigned than he was then” (Matthew, 3:500).

8. Nolland, Matthew, 1096, thinks Jesus brought these three along to give them an opportunity to live up to their words: Peter, willing to die with Jesus (Matt 26:35), and James and John, willing to drink the cup of suffering (20:22)—to be at “the right hand and the left” when Jesus comes into his kingdom (the cross!).

9. See above, 79–88.

10. Davies and Allison, Matthew, 3:497. In Gethsemane, Jesus modeled the “Lord’s prayer” (Matt 6:9–13); see Garland, Reading Matthew, 256.

11. France, Matthew, 1006.

12. For a brief history of interpretation regarding the christological implications of Jesus’s prayer, see Luz, Matthew, 3:399–409.

13. So also France, Matthew, 1007.

14. See the discussion in Keener, Matthew, 634.

15. So also Nolland, Matthew, 1109.

16. Nolland, Matthew, 1109.

17. There are at least nine ways to translate the phrase; see Davies and Allison, Matthew, 3:509–10.

18. Davies and Allison, Matthew, 3:506. Luz, quoting Crossan, writes: “For if, in that ancient Mediterranean world, to betray after a kiss was shameful, to betray with a kiss was infamous” (Matthew, 3:417n42 [emphasis his]).

19. Luz, Matthew, 3:419, infers that since Jesus commanded his disciples not to carry a stick, then they shouldn’t have carried a sword (Matt 10:10). Besides, Jesus had taught them not to resist an evildoer (5:39).

20. Evans, Matthew, 437–38.

21. “The pacifistic Messiah eschews holy war” (Davies and Allison, Matthew, 3:513).

22. This is the only statement Peter didn’t dispute that night (Davies and Allison, Matthew, 3:486).

23. Ibid., 3:517.

24. So, was Satan telling the truth (Matt 4:5–7)?