CRITICAL AND EXEGETICAL NOTES
Mark 14:48. Thief—Robber, or bandit.
Mark 14:51. A linen cloth.—A sindon—either a garment or bed-covering made of linen or muslin manufactured in Sind.
MAIN HOMILETICS OF THE PARAGRAPH.— Mark 14:43-52
(PARALLELS: Matthew 26:47-56; Luke 22:47-53; John 18:1-11.)
The captive Christ and the circle round Him.—A comparison of the first three Gospels in this section shews a degree of similarity, often verbal, which is best accounted for by supposing that a common (oral) “gospel,” which had become traditionally fixed by frequent and long repetition, underlies them all. Mark’s account is briefest, and grasps with sure instinct the essential points; but, even in his brevity, he pauses to tell of the young man who so nearly shared the Lord’s apprehension. The canvas is narrow and crowded; but we may see unity in the picture, if we regard as the central fact the sacrilegious seizure of Jesus, and the other incidents and persons as grouped round it and Him, and reflecting various moods of men’s feelings towards Him.
I. The avowed and hypocritical enemies of Incarnate Love.—Again we have Mark’s favourite “straightway,” so frequent in the beginning of the Gospel, and occurring twice here, vividly painting both the sudden inburst of the crowd which interrupted Christ’s words and broke the holy silence of the garden, and Judas’ swift kiss. The passionless narrative tells the criminal and his crime with unsparing, unmoved tones, which have caught some echo beforehand of the Judge’s voice. To name the sinner, and to state without cloak or periphrasis what his deed really was, is condemnation enough. Which of us could stand it? Judas was foremost of the crowd. That the black depths of his spirit were agitated is plain from two things—the quick kiss, and the nauseous repetition of it. “Straightway … he kissed Him much.” Probably the swiftness and vehemence, so graphically expressed by these two touches, were due not only to fear lest Christ should escape, and to hypocrisy over-acting its part, but reveal a struggle with conscience and ancient affection, and a fierce determination to do the thing and have it over. The very extravagances of evil betray the divided and stormy spirit of the doer. That traitor’s kiss has become a symbol for all treachery cloaked in the garb of affection. Its lessons and warnings are obvious; but this other may be added—that such audacity and nauseousness of hypocrisy is not reached at a leap, but presupposes long underground tunnels of insincere discipleship, through which a man has burrowed, unseen by others, and perhaps unsuspected by himself. Much hypocrisy of the unconscious sort precedes the deliberate and conscious. How much less criminal and disgusting was the rude crowd at Judas’ heels! Most of them were mere passive tools. Half-ignorant hatred, which had had ample opportunities of becoming knowledge and love, offended formalism, blind obedience to ecclesiastical superiors, the dislike of goodness—these impelled the rabble who burst into the Garden of Gethsemane.
II. Incarnate Love bound and patient.—“They laid hands on Him.” That was the first stage in outrage—the quick stretching of many hands to secure the unresisting Prisoner. They “took Him,” or, as perhaps we might better render, “They held Him fast,” as would have been done with any prisoner. Surely the quietest way of telling that stupendous fact is the best! It is easy to exclaim, and, after the fashion of some popular writers of Lives of Christ, to paint fancy pictures. It is better to be sparing of words, like Mark, and silently to meditate on the patient long-suffering of the love which submitted to these indignities, and on the blindness which had no welcome but this for God manifest in the flesh. Both are in full operation to-day, and the germs of the latter are in us all. Mark confines himself to that one of Christ’s sayings which sets in the clearest light His innocence and meek submissiveness. With all its calmness and patience, it is majestic and authoritative, and sounds as if spoken from a height far above the hubbub. Its question is not only an assertion of His innocence, and therefore of His captors’ guilt, but also declares the impotence of force as against Him: “Swords and staves to take Me!” All that parade of arms was out of place, for He was no evil-doer; needless, for He did not resist; and powerless, unless He chose to let them prevail. The second clause of Christ’s remonstrance appeals to their knowledge of Him and His words, and to their attitude towards Him. He would have them ask, “Why this change in us, since He is the same?” Did He deserve to be hailed as King a few short hours ago? How, then, before the palm branches are withered, can He deserve rude hands? The third clause rises beyond all notice of the human agents, and soars to the Divine purpose which wrought itself out through them. That Divine purpose does not make them guiltless, but it makes Jesus submissive. We, too, should train ourselves to see the hand that moves the pieces and to make God’s will our will, as becomes sons. Then Christ’s calm will be ours, and, ceasing from self and conscious of God everywhere and yielding our wills, which are the self of ourselves, to Him, we shall enter into rest.
III. Rash love defending its Lord with wrong weapons.—Peter may have felt that he must do something to vindicate his recent boasting, and, with his usual headlong haste, stops neither to ask what good his sword is likely to do, nor to pick his man and take deliberte aim at him. If swords were to be used, they should do something more effectual than hacking off a poor servant’s ear. Christ and His cause are to be defended by other weapons. Christian heroism endures, and does not smite. Not only swords, but bitter words, which wound worse than they, are forbidden to Christ’s soldier. We are ever being tempted to fight Christ’s battles with the world’s weapons; and many a “defender of the faith” in later days, perhaps even in this very enlightened day, has repeated Peter’s fault with less excuse than he, and with very little of either his courage or his love.
IV. Cowardly love forsaking its Lord.__“They all forsook Him, and fled.” And who will venture to say that he would not have done so too? The tree that can stand such a blast must have deep roots. Their flight may teach us to place little reliance on our emotions, however genuine and deep, and to look for the security of our continual adherence to Christ—not to our fluctuating feelings, but to His steadfast love.—A. Maclaren, D.D.
Mark 14:51-52. The young man in the linen cloth.—As Jesus was being led a prisoner through the streets of Jerusalem to the palace of Caiaphas, a certain youth, awakened probably by the uproar they made, sprang from his bed, seized the first wrapper that came to hand, and, hastily folding himself in it, ran out into the moonlight, to learn the cause of the disturbance. As he ran after and caught up the retiring group of officers, he saw they had a prisoner in their midst, and in the prisoner he recognised Jesus of Nazareth, the rabbi to whom no doubt he had listened with delight as He taught in the Temple and in the streets; for, we are told, he was following Him, not simply following the crowd. In Him his interest is so great, so obvious, that it compels him to remonstrate with the officers who had arrested Him, or to address words of comfort and hope to their Prisoner. For the officers, irritated by his too obvious sympathy with Jesus, lay hold upon him, and are about to arrest him as a follower of the Galilean Rabbi. But for this the young man is not prepared. He slips out of the linen robe, which they have grasped, and runs back, naked, to the house from which but a few moments before he had run out.
I. In all probability the young man was St. Mark himself, the writer of this Gospel.—
1. At least one other of the Evangelists, St. John, when he has to speak of himself, does not name himself, but speaks of himself in the indefinite way in which “a certain young man” is here introduced to us. So that, if the young man were Mark, it might well be that he would not name himself, but give some such indefinite allusion to himself as is here employed.
2. What is there in this incident to warrant, or even to account for, its insertion into the narrative, unless it be a personal interest? It is mentioned in no one of the other Gospels. It has no direct bearing on the story of Christ’s arrest and trial. If Mark himself was the young man that sprang up in the dead of night, and saw Jesus led by the officers to be tried by the high priest, we can understand with what profound interest he would afterward recall every detail of that incident, and how gladly, when he wrote his Gospel, he would connect himself, though in the most modest and unobtrusive way, with that supreme crisis in the history of his Lord and ours. Whereas, on any other hypothesis, supposing the young man to have been any one but himself, we can see no sufficient reason why he should pause to narrate so trifling an event.
3. The minute details crowded into this brief sentence look as if they could only be drawn from personal recollection. As we read it, if at least we read with an alert imagination, we can see the young man lying on his pallet; we can hear the brawl in the street that awakes him; we see him start up and snatch at the first covering that comes to hand, cast it hastily about him, run out into the moonlit street, recognise Jesus, and interfere impulsively with the officers in the execution of their duty; we see him roused to a sense of his danger as they lay rough hands upon him, and run away, leaving the costly linen robe in their hands. I have sometimes wondered whether there was any prophetic symbolism in the seeming accident that the young man should wrap himself in a sindon. The Lord Jesus was on His way to the Cross and the grave, though as yet no official sentence had been pronounced against Him. Was this fine linen web, this costly Indian fabric, which came so strangely and unexpectedly into the hands of His guard, an omen of what that sentence would be? Any Jew would have set the web aside to be a winding-sheet. Is the winding-sheet brought into the sacred narrative to indicate that Jesus was now about to die?
4. The mother of Mark, as we learn from Acts 12:12, had a house in Jerusalem; and it has been generally held that St. Mark was a native of this city, and dwelt in it until he became a missionary of the Cross: so that, unlike most of the disciples and friends of Jesus, he would be living in Jerusalem, and perhaps in that very street through which Jesus was led on the night of His betrayal. From the fact, moreover, that Mark’s mother had a house of her own in the metropolis, and that this house was spacious enough to be the habitual resort of the primitive Church, we infer that she was a woman of some wealth and consideration—a woman, therefore, in whose house a costly Indian fabric, such as the young man cast about him, might well lie ready to his hand.
5. The impulsive character of this young man—soon hot, soon cold, ready to dare all risks at one moment that he may follow Jesus, and ready at the next moment to abandon his sole and costly garment that he may escape the hands of the officers—accords entirely with what we know of the character of Mark as depicted by St. Luke.
II. Why was this incident recorded? What is there in it for us?—
1. It teaches us at least this lesson: that Christ has room in His service, and a discipline, for warm and impulsive natures; that even for these He can find some duty to discharge, some function to fulfil. St. Mark was a man of this kind—a man who was apt to begin to build without counting the cost. He was of an eager, sensitive, and impressible temperament, as the graphic touches which abound in his Gospel indicate; but, like most persons of this sensitive, impulsive temperament, he was fickle and unsteadfast. Probably his imagination was very keen and active, as in such cases it often is, and painted the beauty and heroism of a certain line of conduct very brightly, but painted just as darkly the terrors of the conflict which to pursue such a line of conduct would involve. And thus he would be easily moved to undertake enterprises which he was not strong enough to carry through. Even when he had grown older and was an avowed servant of Christ, Mark betrayed the same infirmity, the same unsteadfast poise of spirit between conflicting impulses, the same sensitive apprehension of the lions that lurk in the path of devotion to any great cause. He started with Paul and Barnabas on their first missionary journey, just as he rose from his bed to follow Christ to the hall of judgment through the streets of Jerusalem; but just as he forsook Christ when the officers laid their rude grasp on Him, so also he abandoned Paul and Barnabas before their work was well begun (Acts 13:13). His motive for abandoning them was the very motive which led him to abandon Christ—the fear of harm and loss. Paul and Barnabas were about to plunge into the wild mountains of Asia Minor, to encounter “perils of rivers and perils of robbers” among the lawless and marauding highland clans. Mark did not like the prospect. And so, just as they were about to face their gravest perils, and to win their greatest successes, he forsook them—deserted them, as St. Paul indignantly maintained—and returned to his mother’s comfortable house in Jerusalem. Yet even for this impulsive and inconstant man there was not only room but an appropriate discipline in the service of Christ. In his later epistles St. Paul speaks of Mark as “a fellow-worker in the kingdom of God,” and as “a comfort to himself”; and in his very last letter he describes him as being “profitable to him in the ministry.” We may be sure, therefore, that this man, once so impulsive, so unreliable, so driven by contrary winds and tossed, became, by the teaching and grace of Christ, a brave and single-hearted servant of the Lord whose service he had more than once abandoned.
2. As we recall the past, we cannot but see that our lives have not flowed on in a single steady current to an eternal goal; that they have been broken into many, and even into adverse, currents, some flowing in one direction, some in another, most of them losing themselves in mere marshes and bogs, instead of carrying health and fertility along their appointed course. We are conscious that unity has been wanting to our lives, so that they will not have left one, and that a strong and good, impression on the world, but many broken and even contradictory impressions. Our influence, as we readily acknowledge, has not been wholly good; it has not always helped to foster all the good growths springing up around us; it has told almost as often and as much for evil as for good. We feel that, like St. Mark, we have again and again abandoned the Master we profess and wish to serve. And at times we lose all hope of ever reaching that constant mind, that settled and steadfast loyalty to Him, that entire devotion to His service, which yet we long to reach, without which, should we fail to reach it, we are sure that we cannot know any true happiness or peace. At such times as these it will give us new heart to remember that even for Mark there was reserved a place in the service of Christ, and a discipline which enabled him to fill that place. For the Master will deal with us as He dealt with him. If we have any true love for Him, any sincere desire to live to Him, He will teach us by our very errors, and train us by our very failures, and make our dissatisfaction with ourselves a spur to a more constant and cheerful obedience.—S. Cox, D.D.
OUTLINES AND COMMENTS ON THE VERSES
Mark 14:43. Who are like Judas to-day?—Those who know their duty, feel the power of the truth, see the worth of Christ, recognise the privilege of the Christian life, and yet turn their back on all this and give themselves up as the slaves of their passions. Knowing perfectly the wrong they do, they do not hesitate to injure Christ for what they consider their advantage.
A picture of apostates.—We see here but too lively a picture of apostates, who have no sooner deserted from the Church but they persecute it, put themselves at the head of conspiracies against the higher powers, and breathe nothing but violence, rebellion, and treason.—P. Quesnel.
Mark 14:44-45. The kiss of treachery.—The kiss was a customary expression of mingled affection and reverence on the part of the disciples when they met their Master. To suppose that Judas deliberately selected an action which was as remote as possible from his then true feelings is an unnecessary supposition. It is more true to human nature to suppose that he endeavoured to appease whatever there may have been in the way of lingering protest in his conscience by an act of formal reverence that was dictated to him by long habit, and that served to veil from himself the full enormity of his crime at the moment of his doing it. In like manner the brigands in the south of Europe have been known to accompany deeds of thefts and deeds of blood with previous ejaculations whether of piety or superstition, and cases have been heard farther north of pickpockets when the thief and his victim have been kneeling side by side in a church or sitting side by side in a meeting-house. In these instances religion may be employed not simply as a blind to an immoral act, but as a sort of salve to a protesting conscience. The passing thrill of emotion seems to do something towards reducing the magnitude of the crime which accompanies it. The case of Judas has become a proverb for all those proceedings whereby, under the semblance of outward reverence for religion or of devotion to its interests, its substance or its reality is betrayed.—Canon Liddon.
The hardihood of evil.—Note:
1. The malignant influence of an evil leader.
2. The awful change in Judas. He might have been the leader of the twelve, of the holy company of disciples, and sinks to be the leader of this vile crew.
3. The hardihood of evil in kissing Christ: such resolute effrontery, such presumptuous invasion of that face before which earth and heaven shall flee away!
4. The infinite meekness of Christ. He requires us to endure the blow of an enemy. He endures the loathsome kiss.
5. As their number betrayed their sense of Christ’s greatness, so this kiss proclaims Him worthy of allegiance and of love.
6. The worst opponents of Christ are still those who betray with a kiss—such as those who oppose His claims while affecting to revere His character, and deny His Saviourship while acknowledging the excellence of His doctrine.
7. The depravity of human nature. For these men are our brothers. There is no sermon on the need of repentance can be so convicting as this narrative of what human nature has actually done.—R. Glover.
Mark 14:47. Worldly weapons.—In relation to the advancement of the Church of Christ, worldly views, a worldly temper, worldly methods, efforts to secularise in order to popularise, however well meaning, are but the swinging of swords, which, if unchecked, would nullify Scripture and bar the way of life to men. There is a law in our members warring against the law of our minds. As opportunity offers it eagerly puts a sword in our hands and commands the use of it. We obey too often, to our own and others’ spiritual injury and the hindrance of the sacred cause we represent and would help.—Wm. M. Campbell.
Mark 14:50. A bad deed by good men.—The apprehension of Christ in the garden was to the disciples a mystery. It confounded them. In their ignorance they were terrified, and deserted Christ. It was not want of love, but lack of courage. It was an eclipse, not an extinction, of their faith.
I. The disciples deserted Christ after promising not to do so?—
1. They had promised after being warned. “Ye shall be offended because of Me,” etc. Christ candidly spoke of suffering. “To be forewarned is to be forearmed.”
2. They had promised independently of each other. “If all men,” etc. “So said all His disciples.”
3. They had promised whatever would be the result. “Go with Thee to prison,” etc.
II. The disciples deserted Christ when He was in difficulties.—
1. The instability of the best human friendship.
2. The terribleness of Christ’s sufferings.
3. The necessity of Christians counting the cost.
III. The disciples deserted Christ, though He suffered in their cause.—This made them guilty of—
1. Ingratitude.
2. Discouragement.
3. Cowardice.
IV. The disciples deserted Christ, but He remained steadfast.—
1. The faithfulness of Christ.
2. The independence of Christ.
3. The courage of Christ.
4. The forbearance of Christ.—B. D. Johns.
Christ forsaken by His disciples.—
I. How weak is the resolution of fallen man!—Man, as originally formed by God, was capable of carrying into execution whatever his judgment approved or his will decreed; but it is far otherwise with us in our present state. How earnest are many, when lying on a bed of sickness, to redeem their time; and how determined, if ever they should recover, to devote the remainder of their lives to God! Yet they are no sooner restored to health than they go back to their former habits and companions, and leave to a distant period the performance of their vows. It is thus also with many after an awakening discourse: they see how vain it is to render unto God a mere formal or hypocritical service, and they resolve that henceforth they will offer Him an undivided heart. But their hearts are not steadfast in the covenant which they make, and their lives are little else than a series of reformations and declensions without any solid improvement in the Divine life.
II. What great evils are even good men capable of committing!—What ingratitude were these disciples guilty of in forsaking their Lord, when their presence might perhaps be of most essential service to Him? The unbelief also which they manifested on this occasion was highly criminal. They had been repeatedly told by Jesus that, after His death and resurrection, He would meet them in Galilee. This was equal to a promise on His part that they should be preserved. Moreover, at the very time when He was apprehended, He said in their hearing, “If ye seek Me, let these go their way.” This ought to have been regarded by them as a certain pledge of their security. But so completely were they overcome by fear that they could not think of safety but in flight.
III. How desirable is it to have just views of Jesus Christ!—Our Lord forewarned His disciples that their desertion of Him would originate in their misconception of His character and office: “All ye shall be offended in Me this night.” They had seen their Divine Master controlling the very elements themselves, from whence they had concluded Him to be the true Messiah. But now they behold Him bound and led away by an armed band, they begin to think that all their former notions were false, and that the expectations which they had founded on His numerous miracles were delusive. Jesus seemed to them now to be like Samson after his locks were cut: He was become weak as other men. Hence they could no longer repose any confidence in Him, but fled like sheep without a shepherd. And is it not thus with the ungodly? Wherefore do they despise Jesus, but because they know neither His power nor His grace?—C. Simeon.
Mark 14:51-52. Impulse.—
I. The excitement of impulse.—
1. In the best cause.
(1) Associated with the best being.
(2) Manifested in the best way. “Followed.” Christ alone to lead.
(3) Fired by the best spirit. Courage when all others fled.
2. By an anonymous person.
(1) The youthful are the likeliest to be impulsive. Passions are strong; curiosity eager; ambition powerful.
(2) Mere impulse is a very commonplace passion.
3. Abruptly displayed.
(1) Thoughtless in regard to appearance.
(2) Aimless in regard to design.
(3) Useless in regard to service.
II. The opposition to impulse.—
1. Association with Christ may entail danger. Needful to count the cost.
2. Impulsive natures need extraordinary prudence.
3. Those near to Christ most hated by the enemy.
III. The collapse of impulse.—
1. Fear.
(1) No true love to Christ.
(2) Depended on His own strength.
(3) No fear of God.
(4) Love of life strong.
2. Desertion. Soon ripe—soon rotten.
3. Oblivion. Never heard of again.—B. D. Johns.
Christ’s care for His disciples.—This accident, which seems to be of no consequence, serves to discover the power of Christ, and His great care and concern for His apostles.
1. He thereby admonishes Peter that he ought to fly from the occasion and not expose himself to temptation, these people having a design to seize all the disciples of our Lord.
2. He by this discovers the same danger to the rest, and advises them likewise to flee.
3. He shews them that it was by His power that they escaped the danger.
4. That even that person who by their means is exposed thereto escapes from it by the appointment of Providence, and because He Himself would suffer alone.—P. Quesnel.
ILLUSTRATIONS TO CHAPTER 14
Mark 14:47. Mistaken zeal.—The Saviour’s method is to conquer force by submission, violence by meekness, sin by the Cross. Yet many make this mistake, and defend a spiritual cause by carnal weapons. On a large scale the Crusades were an example of a continent ready to fight the devil in others with swords, without being ready to fight the devil in themselves with self-denial. All violence used in religion by inquisitors or by men impatient to enthrone the right is an example of Peter’s mistake. All hatred of those doing wrong, all vituperation of them, is a Peter’s sword. What Christ wants is some that can bear a cross with Him, not such as will draw a sword for Him.—R. Glover.