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John 18:1-11 · Jesus Arrested
The War of Malchus’ Ear
John 18:1-11
Sermon
by Donald B. Strobe
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In the year 1739 a strange scene was enacted before the House of Commons in London.  A ship’s captain by the name of Jenkins was brought before that august body, and he showed them a bottle which contained a small, shriveled-up object, which he claimed was his ear.  He said that it had been cut off by Spanish coast-guards when his ship was searched on the high seas.  “What did you do?” he was asked.  And he is supposed to have replied, “I commended my soul to God and my cause to my country.” In his epic History of the English-speaking Peoples, Sir Winston Churchill wrote of this event: “Jenkins’ ear caught the popular imagination and became the symbol of agitation.  Whether it was in fact his own ear or whether he had lost it in a seaport brawl remains uncertain, but the power of this shriveled object was immense.” (New York: Dodd, Mead & Co., 1957, Vol III, p.  121.) People began to talk about the honor of England and the great traditions of Elizabeth and Cromwell, and before long Sir Robert Walpole had declared war on Spain.  This event in English history is known as “The War of Jenkins’ Ear.”

In the Garden of Gethsemane, on the last night of Jesus’ earthly life, an event occurred which we might call “The War of Malchus’ Ear.” It was a brief war, to be sure, lasting but a moment, but its significance and its ramifications have come to us through the centuries. 

Let us look at this event as it is recorded in the Fourth Gospel.  When the Last Supper was finished, and Jesus’ discourse and prayer with His disciples had ended, He and His friends left the Upper Room, bound for the Garden of Gethsemane.  They would have left the Holy City by a gate to the east or southeast of Jerusalem, perhaps the recently discovered “Gate of the Essenes,” walk down a steep valley and cross the brook named Kidron.  Then they would ascend a steep slope on the Mount of Olives to the Garden of Gethsemane.  Now, “Gethsemane” means “olive-press,” the press where the oil was extracted from the olives which grew on trees on the hill.   Many well-to-do people had their private gardens there, for Jerusalem is built on top of a hill and there would have been no room in the crowded city for gardens. 

Furthermore, there were religious ceremonial prohibitions which limited the use of the soil of the Holy City.  That is why the wealthy often had their private gardens outside of the city walls on the slope of the Mount of Olives.  If you go there today you will find a little garden on the hillside, lovingly tended by Franciscan friars.  In it there are eight great olive trees of such immense size and gnarled appearance that they seem more like rocks than trees.  They are very old - just how old, we are not sure.  It is known that they go back to a time before Caliph Omar captured Jerusalem in the seventeenth century.  Do they go back to the time of Jesus?  Probably not.  When Jerusalem and the Temple were destroyed by the Romans in 70 A.D.  They leveled the land around the Holy City.  But it may well be that these ancient trees were formed from the shoots of trees that were there in Jesus’ day.  Still, it is probable that the little paths which criss-cross the Mount of Olives were trodden by our Lord Himself.  It was to this garden of rest on the side of a hill Jesus went. 

William Barclay suggests that some wealthy citizen of Jerusalem - a friend of Jesus, perhaps - whose name will never be known to us may have given Him the key to the gate and the right to use the garden when He was in Jerusalem.  While Jesus was always a special friend to the poor, He certainly had some rich friends as well.  Indeed, the Gospels indicate that He even had some wealthy women friends who supported the roving band of itinerant disciples during His ministry!  Evidently it was Jesus’ custom to go to that garden for a time of peace and quiet when the crowds got too much for Him.  This may be the reason why Judas knew exactly where to find Him on that fateful night, for it was here that Judas led the soldiers to arrest the Lord. 

Barclay says that there is something astonishing about the force which came out to arrest Jesus.  (Daily Study Bible, p.260) The Fourth gospel says that it was a group of soldiers, together with officers from the chief priests and the Pharisees.  The officers would be members of what was called Temple Police.” But there was a “detachment” of soldiers.  The Greek word here is speira.  William Barclay notes that the word can have three meanings.  It is the Greek word for a Roman cohort composed of 600 men.  If it were a cohort of auxiliary soldiers, a speira had 1000 men - 240 cavalry and 760 infantry!  Sometimes the word was used for the detachment of men called a maniple which consisted of 200 men.  Even if we take the word at its most modest meaning, that still seems like an overwhelming expedition force to send out to capture an unarmed Galilean carpenter!  Barclay adds, “What a compliment to the power of Jesus!  When the authorities decided to arrest Jesus, they sent out what was almost an army to do it!”

What happened next is not quite clear.  Most of us, in our minds, tend to “conflate” or squeeze together the events recorded in the Four Gospels, but there are significant differences between the Gospels.  In Mark, a bystander cuts off the ear of the high priest’s slave.  (Mark 14:47) There seems to be no protest to this violent action on the part of Jesus.  In Matthew, the ear is cut off by one of the disciples...  “one of those who were with Jesus,” and Jesus rebukes him, saying, “Put your sword back into its place; for all who take the sword will perish by the sword.” (Matt.  26:52) In Luke, the incident of the sword is introduced by the question put to Jesus “by those who were about him,” asking, “Lord, should we strike with the sword?” One of them strikes the slave of the high priest and cuts off his right ear.  But Jesus says, “No more of this!” (Luke 22:51) and He touches the unfortunate man’s ear and heals it!  (Remember: St.  Luke was a physician, so he ought to know.) But it is only in John’s Gospel that the wielder of the sword is identified as the impulsive Simon Peter, and the slave is identified as a man named Malchus.  In the Fourth Gospel Peter is rebuked by Jesus’ words, “Put your sword back into its sheath.  Am I not to drink the cup that the Father has given me?” (Jn.  18:11)

This strange event in the Garden of Gethsemane sets before us the whole question of Jesus and the use of violence.  Was Jesus really a pacifist, as many insist, and if so, was He a “thoroughgoing” pacifist, rejecting any and all forms of violence?  Or did He sometimes sanction the use of force against His enemies, as seems to be the case in what we call “the cleansing of the Temple.” Did Jesus rebuke Peter in the garden because of a fear that an all-out battle would ensue because of one man’s impetuous act, a battle in which all of the disciples would be sure to be killed; or because He knew that he must die in order to fulfill some Divine Plan and that Plan must not be frustrated by the action of His disciples.  The questions that cluster about this event come at us thick and furious.  And they cannot be answered by considering this one isolated event alone...just as we cannot settle the question of the Christian’s ethical imperative to either participate or refuse to participate in war and violence by citing one isolated Scripture passage alone.  For instance, the Detroit Free Press ran a column a few years ago asking the question, “Should we reinstate the death penalty in Michigan?” (Parenthetically, I have always been proud that my home state of Michigan was the first to abolish capital punishment, though I am not so proud of the many attempts to reverse this precedent in recent years.) To the question, “Should we restore the death penalty?” most respondents replied, “Yes,” as I recall, and not a few of them backed up their response by appealing to Scripture.  “After all,” they said, “the Bible says an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ “Well, yes, it does.  In Deuteronomy 19:21, the Bible does say that.  That ancient rule which may sound a bit barbarous to us, was actually an improvement on the state of things when it was first put forth.  Prior to that time, if an enemy poked out your eye, you were entitled to poke out both of his eyes in return.  If he knocked out one of your teeth, you were entitled to knock out all of his teeth in return.  And if he killed your brother, you could wipe out his entire family in return.  So the Deuteronomic Code was actually an improvement over the state of affairs in most of the ancient world.  It insisted upon strict justice.  One eye for one eye, one tooth for one tooth, one life for one life; no more.  But many of us are trying, however unsuccessfully, to measure our lives by Christ’s life.  And many of us have found it easy to forget that our Lord said, “You have heard that it was said, An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say to you, Do not resist an evildoer.  But if anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also...” (Matthew 5:38-39)

What are we going to do with Jesus’ words?  There have been many attempts to try to come to come terms with them over the centuries.  Some have said that His words were really “counsels of perfection,” and not designed for ordinary mortals like most of us.  Perhaps they were O.K.  for the specially pious: monks, nuns, etc., but we ordinary folks are not bound by them.  However, I cannot recall Jesus saying that His commandments were meant for an elite group of Christians and that the rest of us were exempt.  Others have insisted that Jesus’ words refer to how we are meant to live one day in the far-off divine Kingdom of God, and do not necessarily apply to how we are to live here on earth.  Many years ago I recall listening to a prominent New Testament scholar as he tried to make precisely this point.  He said that it was obvious that we cannot obey Jesus literally when He tells us to “love our enemies” here on this earth.  We can only do that someday when we arrive in the Kingdom of Heaven.  In the back row there was a delightful little lady whom I did now know at the time, but later came to learn was named Edith Lovejoy Pierce of Evanston, a famous poet and learned scholar.  With a twinkle in her eye, she said to the scholar, “Sir, you tell us that we can only love our enemies in heaven.  Pray tell me, just who will our enemies be in heaven?” So much for that theory. 

Present day fundamentalists would tell us that Jesus’ words apply only in one-to-one relationships, and that Jesus never intended for them to apply to relationships between nations.  According to this theory, I can love an enemy who does an evil to me personally, but nations cannot love their enemies.  If they did, they would soon become extinct!  That sounds reasonable.  Fundamentalists might be surprised to know that they are here setting forth a proposition espoused by no less a personage than the great philosopher-theologian Reinhold Niebuhr.  They do have a point.  I may forgive someone who strikes me upon the cheek, but what right do I have to forgive somebody who strike’s another person’s cheek?  If I come across a thug beating up a defenseless old person in a back alley, should I walk away, telling the defenseless person to turn whatever cheeks he or she may have left?  What is my Christian obligation in such a situation?  These are thorny questions.  The earliest Christians, as far as we can tell, took the words of the Lord literally, and were absolute pacifists.  They heard Jesus tell them to love their enemies, and, not realizing that it was impossible, they went out and did it anyway!  They were like the famous illustration of the hummingbird.  Somebody figured out that with its tiny wingspan and oversized body, the hummingbird is unable to fly.  But, not knowing about these matters, the hummingbird goes ahead and flies anyway.  The earliest Christians, however, were in a unique situation.  They were responsible to power, not responsible for power.  Not long after the beginning of the Fourth Century with the so-called “conversion of Constantine,” Christians came into power for the first time.   Prior to Constantine, as far as we can tell, Christians refused to serve in the army, believing that to do so would betray their Lord.  After Constantine, one could not get a good position in the army unless he professed to be a Christian.  How things changed!  As I said, once they had been responsible to power; now, they were responsible for power.  That changed the situation considerably.  The question came: how does one use power responsible?   To answer that question.  St.  Augustine came up with the theory of Two kingdoms: Secular and Spiritual, and the theory of the Just War.  Down through the centuries, Augustine’s position has dominated the mainline Christian Church.  According to the “just war” theory, several criteria must be met before a Christian can participate in a war.  The criteria number from three to fifteen, depending upon which expert you read.  I would list seven of the most important criteria here:

1.) The war must be waged for a just cause such as self-defense, protection of the weak, honoring treaties, vindicating rights, etc. 

2.) It must not be undertaken lightly, but only resorted to as a last resort. 

3.) It must have a sincere intention to further what is good, not what is evil. 

4.) It must not be commenced without the assurance of success, lest all be sacrificed in vain. 

5.) The “principle of proportionality” must be observed; that is, the evil must not outweigh the good.   If victory involves bringing ruination to both sides, or to the human race as a whole, the party with the just cause must forfeit its rights and suffer the evil for the common good. 

6.) It must be conducted by a duly recognized authority. 

7.) The war must be fought in a “civilized” manner, and innocent civilians must be protected. 

Most proponents of the Just war theory would agree that if ever there were a just war, the campaign to stop Hitler was it.  I must confess that I began my Christian life as an “absolute pacifist,” believing that I simply had to take Jesus literally when He said that we must love our enemies.  In seminary, my reading of theologians such as Dietrich Bonhoeffer convinced me that such a thing as a “just war” might be impossible.  Bonhoeffer, you remember, was a German pastor who felt that it was his Christian duty to participate in a plot to assassinate Hitler.  He was imprisoned and executed for his efforts, but he said, “If you see a mad dog coming down the roads, you shoot him to protect the innocent.” That’s another form of the “if you came upon a person being beaten buy the wayside” argument, and it sounded reasonable.  So I moved away from an “absolute pacifist” position and came to admit that a just war just might be possible.  Since then my problem has been the realization that every war that every nation enters upon is considered to be a “just war” by the party originating it, and in today’s nuclear world, if you came upon a victim being beaten by thugs and killed them both - and yourself in the bargain, not much would be gained.  Today, I guess that I am a uneasy “situationist” when it comes to war.  I am willing to consider the possibility that, under certain circumstances, a war might be the lesser of two evils; but I am always suspicious of anyone who claims that their own particular campaign to destroy other people is justifiable in the eyes of God. 

So: Scripture passages can be quoted both for and against almost any position one wishes to take in this matter.  What are we to do?  Well, if we are trying to be Christians, I think we must take a long and serious look, not only at what Jesus said, but at what He did.  We are terribly good at saying what Jesus did, and not so good at doing what Jesus said, or doing what Jesus did.  If Jesus is, as I believe, God’s definition of what it means to be a true human being (true God and true Man, as the creeds say,) then we had better look carefully at Him.  I believe that whenever we deviate from the clear path which he set out for us in His life, teaching, death, and resurrection, we shall be in a continual mess, always teetering on the verge of destruction.  I remember the story of the company which purchased a new piece of the latest modern technology.  Unfortunately, it soon broke down.  They sent a message to the company, “Send repairman.” The company did.  A soft-spoken, bespectacled young fellow in jeans and T-shirt showed up at their door.  They sent a message to the company once again: “Send an older man.” The company sent a message back: “Better accept the one we sent.  He invented the machine!” Well, God invented us.  And the Bible tells us that when we got off on the wrong foot and forget what we were created to be, He sent into the world a young Man named Jesus.  “This is my beloved Son,” He said, “Listen to Him.” And who is to doubt that most of the hell in our world has been caused because we have refused to listen to Him?  We think that we know better than the Inventor! 

“Put your sword away,” said Jesus to Simon Peter in the Garden of Gethsemane.  And Peter did.  One wonders: when will the rest of us?  When will we learn the lesson which the Gospel writer Matthew tacked onto the event: “Those who take the sword will perish with the sword!” We are beginning to learn it a little bit, aren’t we?  In a letter written on April 4, 1956, Dwight D.  Eisenhower wrote these words: “We are rapidly getting to the point that no war can be won.  War implies a contest; when you get to the point that contest is no longer involved and the outlook comes closer to destruction of the enemy and suicide for ourselves...then arguments as to the exact amount of available strength as compared to somebody else’s are no longer the vital issues.” Perhaps then, wrote Eisenhower, “we will have sense enough to meet at the conference table with the understanding that the era of armaments has ended and the human race must conform its actions to this truth or die.” As Harry Emerson Fosdick said some thirty years before Eisenhower: “Humanity today faces a situation in which the basic principles of Jesus are not dreams but indispensable necessities.” (Ibid., p.  103) An even older Irish poem about the two cats of F made it even plainer.  It goes like this:

Each thought there was one cat too many
So they fought and they spit,
And they scratched and they bit,
Till, excepting their nails
And the tips of their tails,
Instead of two cats, there weren’t any!

Perhaps our fear for the future of our world might prevail upon us to put our swords back into their sheaths, even if we are not willing to do so simply because our Lord commanded us to do it. 

We are supposed to be followers of Jesus.  A few years back I read a novel called “the Vicar of Christ” by Walter Murphy.  It is the improbable story of a man who is successively, a war hero (Korea), Dean of the Law School (at the University of Michigan,) a Supreme Court Justice, then Chief Justice.  This man’s wife dies tragically...and he goes into a monastery to retreat from the world just as the College of Cardinals meets in Rome to elect a new pope.  The cardinals become deadlocked, when somebody, in a fit if desperation or inspiration, brings up the name of this monk and they elect him as the new pope.  Reluctantly, he takes on the unwanted job, and the name Pope Francesco, (Francis.  After St.  Francis?), and eventually he becomes the target of a plot because as Pope he does what is practically unthinkable: he tries to sincerely follow Christ. 

In a controversial speech at Princeton University, Pope Francesco makes a speech not only favoring disarmament, but questioning whether any Christian: Catholic, Protestant or otherwise, can support modern warfare.  He is called on the carpet by the President of the United States, an old friend, and himself a Catholic.  “Holiness,” the president says, “I cannot tell you how seriously, how perilously, our government views the implications of your speech yesterday at Princeton.” Pope Francesco speaks quietly, “We have only Christ’s message.  We do not know how military service in the context of modern weaponry can be reconciled with the commands of the Gospel.” “But you’ve been a soldier in two wars yourself.  You know the Russians would occupy Western Europe in a couple of days if our armies folded up their tents and went to prayer meetings.  Pretty soon, there’d be a foreigner sitting at this desk.” To which Pope Francesco replies, “We do not know’ these things, Mr.  President.  We have more faith in God’s goodness than to presume that disaster would strike us for obeying His word.” (New York: Macmillan Co., 1978)

But the president does not share the Pope’s faith.  Neither does the Pope’s Church, nor most of the professing Christians of the world.  Soon Pope Francesco is murdered.  That gets him out of the way, just as Judas thought he could get Jesus out of the way.  And I must confess that I am often of two minds about who is right in that conversation.  But then I come back to the Gospel: “So Judas brought a detachment of soldiers together with police from the chief priests and the Pharisees, and they came there with lanterns and torches and weapons.  Then Jesus, knowing all that was to happen to him, came forward and asked them, Whom are you looking for?’ They answered, Jesus of Nazareth.’ Jesus replied, I am he.’ Judas, who betrayed him, was standing with them.  When Jesus said to them, I am he,’ they stepped back and fell to the ground.  Again he asked them, Whom are you looking for?’ And they said, Jesus of Nazareth.’ Jesus answered, I told you that I am he.  So if you are looking for me, let these men go.’ ...Then Simon Peter, who had a sword, drew it, struck the high priest’s slave, and cut off his right ear.  The slave’s name was Malchus.  Jesus said to Peter, Put your sword back into its sheath.’ “ (John 18:3-11)

He’s still waiting for us to obey Him.

Dynamic Preaching, Collected Words, by Donald B. Strobe