(Continued.)
MEANWHILE Peter had followed Jesus. The other disciple who accompanied him went into the palace of the high priest, being known to him, but Peter stood at the door without. Being brought in by that other disciple, he is questioned by the porteress at once whether he was not a disciple of Jesus, and answers, “I am not.” Emboldened by his denial, he draws near to the fire and warms himself with the crowd; while, unimpeachable amid indignity and reproach, his Master stands unmoved — the Faithful and the True.
It was cold, and as the night wore on Peter still warmed himself with the rest. Attention being drawn to him they ask, “Art thou also of His disciples?” Again he denies, saying, “I am not.” He stands upon the brink of a precipice of moral ruin, and one push more will, speaking after the manner of men, decide his fate. Neither will he be allowed breathing space. Quickly the question comes a third time, but now from an eye-witness and a kinsman of him whom Peter had so rashly assailed. “Did not I see thee in the garden with Him?” is the crushing rejoinder. Again he denies, and immediately the cock crew.
Peter had fallen; the enemy had triumphed. The trap laid with consummate skill had not failed; and, if Peter were the prey, what had become of his Master’s boasted power to keep? Yes, the denial was threefold, deliberate and positive; yet in the moment of its culmination the cock crew — proof of a power and grace which, when evil had done its worst, could turn all to account for good, and could use the simplest means, such as were of the commonest occurrence for the purpose. The more ordinary and feeble the means the greater must be the power that uses them effectually. God confounds the mighty by the weak things of the world.
Observe the object here is merely to state Peter’s failure, not to give the details, nor to point its moral. Consequently neither the circumstances that aggravated his denial so painfully nor his bitter grief are mentioned.
Now in the early morn they lead the Holy Sufferer from Caiaphas to the Prætorium, remaining themselves outside of it — these scrupulous Pharisees and priests — lest they should be defiled. They would eat the Passover, but little scrupled to deliver the Holy One and the Just into the hands of lawless men, and to death.
Acceding to their punctiliousness, Pilate goes out to them and asks, “What accusation bring ye against this Man?” Eager in their hatred and murderous intent they had not yet formulated one; but to justify their disorderly as well as untimely concourse, they denounce Him as an evildoer. If this were all, why not deal with Him as a common offender? Nay, they were thirsting for His blood, and but for the word of Jesus, signifying what death He should die, would have shed it doubtless in some less formal way, except that perhaps they wished to shirk the guilt of it, and lay the responsibility upon someone else. In any case they were unconsciously fulfilling the word of Jesus. He was to be “lifted up” — an Object outside of earth and its dispensational and governmental distinctions — an Object for faith, for Jew or Gentile alike, not on earth, not in heaven, but to be the place of approach to the heavenly courts, as the altar stood at the door of the tabernacle, where God could meet any soul drawing near with acceptance because of the sacrifice.
The cross was the Roman, not Jewish, mode of execution, and contrary to their interests, their pride, and their inclination, they demand that the Roman governor shall be both judge and executioner. But on what ground? Pilate’s fears and suspicions furnish one which the Jews immediately adopt, though they would scarcely have suggested it. Entering the Prætorium again, Pilate says to Jesus, “Art Thou the king of the Jews?” This, if coupled with conspiracy, would be a capital crime, and come under the cognizance of the civil authority.
To Jesus it was of much moment whether this charge arose from Pilate’s suspicions or the confession of a disciple and Jewish thoughts. If the former, it could be positively denied, for in Pilate’s thoughts it would be a kingdom of this world. But Jesus’ kingdom is not of this world, else would His servants have fought that He might not be delivered up to the Jews. On the contrary, He had expressly ordered Peter to sheath his sword, for His kingdom was not from hence.
Yet He was a king, and of a wider kingdom than that of the Jews. It was a kingdom in which the truth held sway, to bear witness of which, for it was not here, He had been born and had come into the world. Truth was not merely a moral rule or kingdom, as men speak, though there was this; but it was a moral rule in a universal and eternal scene — the New Creation.
He was here to bear witness of the truth, and by His voice to separate for that eternal world those who were of the truth. Hearing His voice distinguished those who were of the truth. This Pilate was not. For him truth had no existence as a moral reality. As a judge he could possibly discern as to truth of testimony to a particular fact; but truth He knew not as a moral reality in which everything is in its place with God and with one another. To Jesus, who Himself was the truth, he says, “What is truth?”
Still conscience was here; and going out to the Jews he says, “I find no fault whatever in Him.” Who so worthy to be released as He? Especially at the Passover, when one must needs be set free. If king of the Jews He is nevertheless guiltless. But no! they cry again all saying, “Not this man, but Barabbas.” Now Barabbas was a robber. W. T. W.