“When They Had Sung an Hymn”
The Serenity of Christ
“AND WHEN THEY HAD SUNG AN HYMN,
THEY WENT OUT INTO THE MOUNT OF OLIVES” (Matthew 26:30).
THIS PRECIOUS fragment is preserved for us by both Matthew and Mark. We should not otherwise have known that the Savior sang under the very shadow of the cross. What serenity and inward triumph is reflected in this revealing sentence! The Son of God approaches the sorrows of Gethsemane, the shame of Gabbatha, and the sufferings of Golgotha with a song on His lips. Anyone can sing in the sunshine, but to sing in the shadows is a rare accomplishment.
And a sweet song it must have been. “Providence has veiled from us any view of the physical characteristics of our Saviour,” wrote M. E. Dodd. “There is divine wisdom in this. There is one expression in the Book of Revelation, however, which refers to the voice of ‘Him who was, and is, and is to be,’ as ‘the sound of many waters.’ If this is meant to be in any particular a literal description of His voice, it means that His voice was marvellous beyond anything that ever issued from a human throat. Its deep rolling resonance, its soft, sweet pure notes, its fullness of the heart’s deepest affection and humanity’s loftiest emotion, must have touched the ears of those who heard it, and swept the chords of their heart with wonderful meaning.”
Jesus had eagerly anticipated this Last Supper with His disciples. “With desire I have desired to eat this passover with you before I suffer,” He said to them (Luke 22:15). Gathered around the festal board, they together recalled the first Passover, when God liberated Israel from the hand of Pharaoh, passing over them and protecting them from the judgment that befell Egypt. The poignant realization that the sacrifice of the paschal lamb would so soon find fulfillment in His death would sweep over Him. So now He transmutes the Passover feast into the Lord’s Supper, a sacrament that will be observed throughout the world by men of every nation and in every age as a memorial of His undying love.
The pathetic little group whom He was so soon to leave as helpless sheep in the midst of ravening wolves drew out His deepest compassion. How tender were His words in those closing hours of fellowship, marred though they had been through their carnal rivalry and jostling for position. His washing of the disciples’ feet was no theatrical display, but simply the spontaneous expression of a humble and loving heart.
Before they left the festal table, it was the custom to sing a hymn, and what a thrilling male chorus they must have made, with Jesus Himself as the leader. Amazingly enough, we know the very hymn they sang, if not the melody.
At the feasts of Passover, Pentecost, Dedication, and Tabernacles, part of the ritual was the singing of Psalms 113–118, originally one song, and not divided into psalms. Together, those psalms were known as “The Hallel,” a term meaning “to praise.” It was the practice to divide the group of hymns into two parts, one of which was repeated in the middle of the banquet, the other reserved until the end.
So the hymn they sang following the pouring of the fourth cup, consisted of Psalms 115–118. But what the Jews sang with blinded eyes, Jesus sang with open vision. He discerned the inner meaning of Old Testament type and prophecy. Since He was leader of the feast, it would be for Him to raise the tune. It is not difficult to imagine the beautiful tones, full of pathos and feeling, with which He would sing some of those words, if we read the psalms thoughtfully and endeavor to enter His emotions as He sang them for the last time.
One of the pregnant verses of the hymn is 118:22: “The stone which the builders refused is become the head stone of the corner.”
In the construction of Solomon’s Temple, “they brought great stones, costly stones, and hewed stones, to lay the foundation of the house” (1 Kings 5:17). A Jewish tradition records that one of the shaped stones was of odd design and size and did not seem to fit anywhere. So the masons discarded it, pushing it over into the valley of the Kidron. As the Temple neared completion, it was found that the chief cornerstone was missing. A message was dispatched to the quarries to bring it up. Back came the answer that they had sent it up long before. Diligent search proved unavailing, until one of the masons remembered the stone that had been rejected as useless. With much effort it was drawn up from the valley and was found to fit exactly into place.
In the last week of His ministry our Lord exclaimed to the hostile chief priests and elders, “Did ye never read in the scriptures, The stone which the builders rejected, the same is become the head of the corner?” (Matthew 21:42). He had experienced to the full the rejection of His nation, for when He came to His own home, His people had rejected Him (John 1:11).
But as He sang these same words with His disciples (Psalm 118:22), would not His heart pulse with joy when He foresaw the day now so near when He who did not fit into man’s ecclesiastical temple at His first coming, would become the Head of the corner at His second advent? This was doubtless part of “the joy that was set before Him” (Hebrews 12:2), which enabled Him to endure the cross and despise its shame.
Another verse of the hymn would challenge His acceptance of His Father’s will: “This is the day which the lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it” (Psalm 118:24). That Jehovah had made “this day,” the day of His cross, He knew, for had it not been preceded by an eternity of anticipation? And had it not been foretold in unmistakable terms?
But how could He rejoice in it when He knew it held shame, rejection, reproach, anguish? The answer is that He always in eternity as in time, found exulting joy in doing His Father’s will, whatever the cost to Himself. “I delight to do thy will, O my God” (Psalm 40:8; Hebrews 10:7). He found the joy of doing His Father’s will so utterly satisfying that, with clear knowledge of what lay ahead, He was able to sing with deep insight, “This is the day which the lord hath made; [I] will be glad and rejoice in it.” Although He knew that in a few hours His Father’s face would be averted from Him because of His identification with the sin of a world of men, He still sang, “O give thanks unto the Lord; for he is good: for his mercy endureth for ever” (Psalm 118:29).
Not many days before, a remarkable demonstration had taken place when Jesus entered Jerusalem sitting on an ass. “A very great multitude spread their garments in the way; others cut down branches from the trees, and strawed them in the way. And the multitudes that went before, and that followed, cried, saying, Hosanna to the son of David: Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord; Hosanna in the highest. And when he was come into Jerusalem, all the city was moved, saying, Who is this?” (Matthew 21:8–10, italics added).
As He sang these words in the Hallel, was He anticipating that in a few hours the adulation of the crowd would turn into the sullen roar, “Crucify Him!”? Even that did not quench His song.
But not only did He go to the cross with a song on His lips, but the last words of the song were words of thanksgiving: “O give thanks unto the LORD for He is good.” With these words trembling on His lips, amid the shadows cast by the Passover moon, He led the little band to the Olive Garden.
What can we learn from the Passover Song? That we can turn our trouble into treasure and our sorrow into song. Faith can sing her song in the darkest hour. Sorrow and singing are not incompatible.