He said to them, “My soul is exceedingly sorrowful, even to death. Stay here, and watch.”
He went forward a little, and fell on the ground, and prayed that, if it were possible, the hour might pass away from him. He said, “Abba, Father, all things are possible to you. Please remove this cup from me. However, not what I desire, but what you desire.”
He came and found them sleeping, and said to Peter, “Simon, are you sleeping? Couldn’t you watch one hour? Watch and pray, that you may not enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.”
Again he went away, and prayed, saying the same words. Again he returned, and found them sleeping, for their eyes were very heavy, and they didn’t know what to answer him. He came the third time, and said to them, “Sleep on now, and take your rest. It is enough. The hour has come. Behold, the Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners. Arise! Let’s get going. Behold: he who betrays me is at hand.”
Geneva Bible translators 1599 · Public Domain On vv36–37 This doubling of the word was used in those…
This doubling of the word was used in those days, when their languages were so mixed together: for this word, Abba, is a Syrian word.
Geneva Bible (1599) marginal notes — public domain.
John Trapp 1656 · Public Domain On vv36, 37, 40, 41, 42 34 And saith unto them, My soul is exceeding…
34 And saith unto them, My soul is exceeding sorrowful unto death: tarry ye here, and watch.
35 And he went forward a little, and fell on the ground, and prayed that, if it were possible, the hour might pass from him.
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36 And he said, Abba, Father, all things are possible unto thee; take away this cup from me: nevertheless not what I will, but what thou wilt.
Ver. 36. Abba, Father] Father, Father, with greatest earnestness. This was an effectual prayer, had he said no more. God can feel breath in prayer, Lam 3:56.
Not what I will, but, &c.] Aposiopesis emphatica, saith Beza.
John Trapp, A Commentary or Exposition upon All the Books of the Old and New Testament (1647–1656) — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword module.
John Gill 1763 · Public Domain On vv34–42 And he went forward a little,.... About a stone's…
And he went forward a little,.... About a stone's cast, Luk 22:41,
and fell on the ground, and prayed; he fell on his face to the ground, which was a praying posture. One of the Jewish canons concerning it, is this (a):
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"worshipping, how is it done? after a man has lifted up his head; he bows it five times, he sits upon the ground, and "falls upon his face", "to the ground", and supplicates with whatsoever supplication he pleases: worshipping, or bowing, is the stretching out of hands and feet, until a man is found cast upon his face to the ground.''
See Gill on Mat 26:39. The supplication Christ made in this posture was,
that, it were possible, the hour might pass from him; the time fixed and agreed upon for his sufferings and death; that is, that it might pass without his enduring them, if there was any possibility of excusing him, and of his people's being saved without them; See Gill on Mat 26:39.
(a) Maimon. Hilch. Tephilla, c. 5. sect. 13.
John Gill's Exposition of the Whole Bible (1746–1763) — public domain (CC PDM 1.0). Text via the HelloAO Bible API.
John Wesley 1765 · Public Domain On vv36–37 Abba, Father - St. Mark seems to add the…
Abba, Father - St. Mark seems to add the word Father, by way of explication.
John Wesley, Explanatory Notes Upon the Whole Bible (1754–1765) — public domain. Text via the GEBible commentary corpus.
Adam Clarke 1810 · Public Domain On vv36–37 Verse 36. Abba, Father] This Syriac word, which intimates…
Verse 36. Abba, Father] This Syriac word, which intimates filial affection and respect, and parental tenderness, seems to have been used by our blessed Lord merely considered as man, to show his complete submission to his Father's will, and the tender affection which he was conscious his Father had for him, [Syriac] Abba, Syriac, is here joined to οπατηρ, Greek, both signifying father; so St. Paul, Ro 8:15; Ga 4:6. The reason is, that from the time in which the Jews became conversant with the Greek language, by means of the Septuagint version and their commerce with the Roman and Greek provinces, they often intermingled Greek and Roman words with their own language. There is the fullest evidence of this fact in the earliest writings of the Jews; and they often add a word of the same meaning in Greek to their own term; such as מרי קירי, Mori, κυριε my Lord, Lord; פילי שער, pili, πυλη, shuar, gate, gate: and above, אבא, πατηρ, father, father: see several examples in Schoettgen. The words אבי and אבא appear to have been differently used among the Hebrews; the first Abbi, was a term of civil respect; the second, Abba, a term of filial affection. Hence, Abba, Abbi, as in the Syriac version in this place, may be considered as expressing, My Lord, my Father. And in this sense St. Paul is to be understood in the places referred to above. See Lightfoot.
Adam Clarke's Commentary on the Bible (1810–1826) — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword/MySword module.
Joseph Benson 1811 · Public Domain On v39 Mar 14:39-42. And he went away and spake the…
Mar 14:39-42. And he went away and spake the same words — It is plain, by comparing Mar 14:35-36, with Mat 26:42, that the words were not entirely the same; and it is certain that λογος, here rendered word, often signifies matter. So that no more appears to be intended than that he prayed to the same purpose as before. Sleep on now, &c. — Dr. Waterland and some others read this interrogatively, Do ye sleep on still and take your rest? The passage, however, may be read with propriety agreeably to our own version; (see the note on Mat 26:42-45;) as much as to say, My previous conflict is now over, and you may sleep on, because I have no further occasion for your watching. It is enough, or rather, as Campbell renders απεχει, All is over, or, it is done. the time is expired. The intention of the phrase was manifestly to signify, that the time wherein they might have been of use to him, was now lost; and that he was, in a manner, already in the hands of his enemies. Rise up, let us go — See notes on Mat 26:46-49.
Joseph Benson's Commentary on the Old and New Testaments (1811–1818) — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword module.
Haydock's Catholic Bible Commentary 1859 · Public Domain On v37 You who were ready to die for me, cannot…
You who were ready to die for me, cannot watch with me! We are here taught a great duty of a Christian life, and that is, to beg of God, that he would give us strength to observe and follow the motions and inspirations of his Holy Spirit, and never to resist the calls of heaven.
George Leo Haydock (1774–1849), Haydock's Catholic Family Bible and Commentary, 1859 edition — public domain. Excludes Psalms (Douay-Rheims chapter numbering differs from Protestant) and Deuterocanonical books (Catholic canon only).
Daniel D. Whedon 1874 · Public Domain On v36 36. Abba, Father — The word Abba signifies father…
36. Abba, Father — The word Abba signifies father in the Syriac, which was the dialect that our Saviour spoke. In that section of country where both Hebrew and Greek were spoken by the people, it was sometimes customary to give both the Hebrew and the Greek words, one to explain the other. Similar was the custom of bestowing upon the same individual both a Hebrew and Greek name.
Daniel D. Whedon (gen. ed.), Commentary on the Old and New Testaments (1874–1909) — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword module.
The Cambridge Bible for Schools and Colleges 1878 · Public Domain On vv34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 40, 41 34. My soul is exceeding sorrowful] Here again we…
34. My soul is exceeding sorrowful] Here again we have a remarkable word. We met with it before (ch. Mar_6:26), where “Herod is said to have been “exceeding sorry” at the request for the Baptist’s head; St Luke also uses the word (Luk_18:23-24) to describe how the rich young ruler was “very sorrowful,” when he was bidden to sacrifice his wealth. It points here to a depth of anguish and sorrow, and we may believe that he, who at the first temptation had left the Saviour “for a season” (Luk_4:13), had now returned, and whereas before he had brought “to bear against the Lord all things pleasant and flattering, if so he might by aid of these entice or seduce Him from His obedience, so now he thought with other engines to overcome His constancy, and tried Him with all painful things, as before with all pleasurable, hoping to terrify, if it might be, from His allegiance to the truth, Him whom manifestly He could not allure.” Trench’s Studies, pp. 55, 56, and above, Mar_1:12.
and watch] “with Me” adds St Matthew (Mat_26:38). Perfect man, “of a reasonable soul and human flesh subsisting,” He yearned, in this awful hour, for human sympathy. It is almost the only personal request He is ever recorded to have made. It was but “a cup of cold water” that He craved. But it was denied Him! Very Man, He leaned upon the men He loved, and they failed Him! He trod the winepress alone; and of the people there was none with him (Isa_63:3).
The Cambridge Bible for Schools and Colleges (gen. ed. J. J. S. Perowne; Cambridge University Press, 1878–1918) — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword module.
Ellicott's Commentary for English Readers 1878 · Public Domain On vv36, 37, 41 (36) And he said, Abba, Father.—The record of the…
(36) And he said, Abba, Father.—The record of the word “Abba” as actually uttered, is peculiar to St. Mark. We, perhaps, find traces of the impression it made on the minds of men in the “Abba, Father” of Rom_8:15, Gal_4:6.
A Bible Commentary for English Readers, edited by Charles John Ellicott (1878–1897) — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword module.
The Pulpit Commentary 1880 · Public Domain On vv34–41 None but he who bore those sorrows can know…
None but he who bore those sorrows can know what they were. It was not the apprehension of the bodily torments and the bitter death that awaited him, all foreknown by him. It was the inconceivable agony of the weight of the sins of men. The Lord was thus laying "upon him the iniquity of us all." This, and this alone, can explain it. My soul is exceeding sorrowful even unto death. Every word carries the emphasis of an overwhelming grief. It was then that "the deep waters came in," even unto his soul. "What," says Cornelius a Lapide, "must have been the voice, the countenance, the expression, as he uttered those awful words!"
The Pulpit Commentary (1880–1919), ed. H.D.M. Spence-Jones & Joseph S. Exell — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword module.
The Biblical Illustrator 1887 · Public Domain On vv38–42 The spirit truly is ready, but the flesh is…
Mar_14:38
The spirit truly is ready, but the flesh is weak.
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1. I think, will some say, that my sin is a sin of infirmity because it is but small. But if you look into 1Sa_15:1-35, you may read that Sauls sin, for which the Lord rejected him, was of no great outward bulk; for he spared the fatlings that he might sacrifice thereby. A great many small sins may make as great a bulk as one gross sin; yea, possibly there may be much sinfulness and evil in committing of a small sin; for as amongst men, it is the greatest incivility to break with another for a small matter; so with God, to break with God for a small thing; and much skill may be seen in a small work; a little watch, etc. So your skill in sinning may be seen in a small sin; his sin is never small that thinks it small.
2. But I think my sin is a sin of infirmity because I am tempted to it, and because I am drawn on by others. But, I pray, was not Adam tempted unto the eating of the forbidden fruit by Eve? And was not Eve tempted by Satan? And will you call that a sin of infirmity that condemned all the world as Adams sin did?
3. But I think my sin is a sin of infirmity because I do strive against it. And, I pray, did not Pilate strive against the crucifying of Christ? Possibly therefore a man may strive against his sin, and yet the sin be no sin of infirmity.
4. But my sin is a sin of infirmity because I am troubled after it. And was not Esau troubled after he had sold his birth-right for a mess of pottage; did he not seek it with tears? I do strive against it, and though I am troubled after it, yet it may be no sin of infirmity.
But as some are mistaken on the left hand, thinking that their sins ale sins of infirmity, when indeed they are not: so others on the right hand are mistaken, and think that their sins are not sins of infirmity, but of a worse nature, when indeed they are: and that upon these accounts:
1. Oh, saith one, I fear my sin is no sin of infirmity, for I sin knowingly, and with deliberation; I sin against my knowledge, and against my conscience, and therefore my sin can be no sin of infirmity. But for answer hereunto, you must know, it is one thing for a man to sin knowingly, and another thing for a man to sin out of knowledge, or against his knowledge. A man sins ignorantly when ignorance is the companion of his sin only: a man sins out of ignorance, when ignorance is the only cause of his sin, and not the companion only.
2. Oh, but I fear that my sin is no sin of infirmity, because I fall into it again and again, and do lie in it. But do ye know what it is to lie in sin? There is much mistake about lying in sin. Now if you do thus keep and lie in your sin, why do you so complain? this your complaining argues that there is some purging out, and therefore you do not lie in sin.
3. Oh, but I fear my sin cannot be a sin of infirmity, because I fall into it after I have been admonished of the evil of it. To that I say no more, but desire you to consider the instance that is here before you. The disciples slept, our Lord and Saviour Christ comes and wakens them; yea, and He chides them too: What (saith He) cannot ye watch with Me one hour I watch and pray; and yet they clapt again: and He comes and wakens them again, and admonisheth them again, and yet they slept again. Possibly, therefore, a man may fail into the same sin again and again, yea, even after admonition, and yet it may be a sin of infirmity. Yet how many poor souls are there, that are mistaken here on the right hand, and do think that their sins are no sins of infirmity, when indeed they are. But if there be such mistakes, how shall we then know whether our sins be sins of infirmity
1. Negatively, That is no sin of infirmity, which is a gross, foul, scandalous sin, committed with deliberation and consultation.
2. If the sin be a ringleader unto other foul sins, it is no sin of infirmity. The ring-leading sin is the most heinous sin. And you see how it is amongst men; if there be a rebellion or insurrection, they take the ringleader and bang up him, for say they, This is the great transgressor, for he is the ringleader. So amongst sins, the great sin is the ringleader; and therefore if your sin be a ringleader unto other foul sins, it is not a sin of infirmity.
3. A sin of presumption is not a sin of infirmity. Sins of presumption and sins of infirmity are set in opposition one to the other in Num_15:1-41 and Psa_19:1-14. And when a man doth therefore sin the rather because God is merciful, or because the sin is but a sin of infirmity, or because he hopes to repent afterward, or because his sin may and can stand with grace; this is a sin of presumption, and is no sin of infirmity: sins of presumption are no sins of infirmity.
4. Again, If the sin be a reigning sin, then it is no sin of infirmity, for when sin reigns, grace doth not; therefore saith the apostle (Rom_6:1-23), Let not sin have dominion over you, for ye are not under the law but under grace; and when sin reigns it is in its full strength.
But how shall we know, then, affirmatively, whether our sin be a sin of infirmity?
1. Thus: If it do merely proceed from want of age in Christianity, then it is, without doubt, a sin of infirmity. Babes are weak and full of weaknesses.
2. If it be no other sin than what is incident unto all the saints, then it is a sin of infirmity; for that sin which is committed by all the saints, is no reigning sin, but a sin mortified.
3. If it be such a sin as you cannot avoid, which breaks in upon you before you are aware, even before you can call in for help from your reason and consideration, and which the general bent and frame of your heart and soul is against, then it is a sin of infirmity, for then it doth arise from want of strength to resist, and not from will to commit. This was the case of Paul (Rom_7:1-25) when evil was present with him, being against the general bent and frame of his soul; for saith he, I delight in the law of God after the inward man, and yet the thing that I would not do, that do I.
4. An infirmity will hardly acknowledge itself to be a sin of infirmity; but the person in whom it is, fears lest it should be worse. If your sin do arise chiefly from some outward cause, it is a sin of infirmity; for than it is not so much from will to commit, as from want of strength to resist. The sin which the apostle speaks of (Gal_6:1) is a sin of infirmity, and the man that commits it is said to be overtaken. Now when a man is upon his journey travelling and is overtaken by another person, his inward inclination and disposition was not to meet the other: so when a man is overtaken by sin, it argues that his sin doth proceed from some outward cause; and when it doth proceed from some outward cause, then he is truly said to be overtaken with it.
5. Infirmity loves admonition: I mean, the person that sins out of infirmity, loves to be admonished, takes admonition kindly, and doth bless God for it.
6. An infirmity discovers good, though it be in itself evil; it is an ill sin, but a good sign. The thistle is an ill weed, yet it discovers a fat and a good sell; smoke is ill, but it discovers fire.
7. Sins of infirmities are servants and drawers of water unto your graces; though in themselves evil, yet through the overruling hand of Gods grace, they will make you more gracious another way. Ye know how it is with a young tradesman, who hath but a small stock; he keeps his shop diligently, and will not spend as others do. If you ask him the reason, saying, Such and such men are of your trade, and they will spend their shilling with us, and their time with us; why will you not do as they? He answers presently, True, they do so, and they may do so, their estate will bear it; but as for me, my stock is small, very little, therefore I may not do as they do, but I must be diligent, and a good husband; I am but a young beginner, and have little skill in the trade, therefore it behoves me to be diligent. His very weakness is the cause of his diligence. So here, the more infirmities that a gracious soul labours under, the more diligent he will be; and if you ask him, Why do you take so much pains in following the means, and the like? he answers, Alas, I am a poor weak creature: such and such an one there is that hath an excellent memory, all that ever he reads or hears is his own; but my memory is naught, my head and heart is naught, and therefore by the grace of God I will take the more pains in following after Christ. Thus his very infirmity is a provocation unto all his diligence.
8. Infirmity doth constantly keep a mans heart low, down, and humble. If one have an infirmity in his speech, he will not be so forward to speak as others are; but being conscious of his own infirmity, he is always low, and afraid to speak. So spiritually. But suppose that my sin be no other than a sin of infirmity, what then? The third particular answers you. Then, your sin being but an infirmity, Christ will never leave you for it, nor east you off for it; but if you sleep, He will waken you; and if you sleep again, He will waken you again. Oh, what sweet grace is this. Is there no evil then in this sin of infirmity? Yes, much, very much: for though it be a drawer of water to your grace, yet it is a Gibeonite, a native, a Canaanite, that will upon all occasions be ready to betray you, and to open the door unto greater thieves, and will always be a thorn and goad in your sides; and though it do not put out your light, yet it is a thief in your candle, which may smear out much of your comfort, and blemish your duty. Ye know how it is with a good writing pen; if there be a small hair in it, though the hair be never so little a thing, yet if it be not pulled out, it will blot and blemish the whole writing sometimes. So may the sin of infirmity do; your whole duty may be blotted and blemished by this small hair, and although God can and doth make use of your infirmities for to keep your graces, yet they are but your lees and dregs, whereas your graces should be all refined. Oh, what an evil thing therefore is it, for a man to be unrefined. And although Christ will not cast you off for a sin of infirmity, yet you may provoke Him thereby to chide you, and to be angry with you. The unbelief of the disciples was but their infirmity, yet Christ did upbraid them because of their unbelief. Thirdly, Though there be much evil in this sin, Christ will not cast you off for it. For it is an honour to a man to pass by infirmities, saith Solomon; much more is it for the honour of Christ to pass by the infirmities of His people. The saints and people of God are in covenant with God by Jesus Christ, and that covenant is a conjugal covenant (Hos_2:1-23). But what husband will put away his wife for her infirmities? That covenant is a paternal covenant, and what father will thrust his child out of doors for his infirmities? A child, though deformed, is more pleasing to the father, because the child is his own, than another beautiful child that is not his own. If a master should turn away his servant for every failing and weakness, who would serve him? Now, saith Luther, what man will cut off his nose because there is filth in it? yea, though the nose be the sink of the brain, yet because it is a member a man will not cut it off. And will Christ cut off one of His members, because there is filth in him, or some weakness and infirmity in him? What father will knock his child on the head, because a wart grows on his forehead? These infirmities in the saints and people of God, are their warts, which grow in the face of their conversation: the blessed martyrs themselves had these warts: Hierom of Prague had a great wart upon him, Cranmer another, Jewel another; yea, if we look into that little hook of Chronicles, I mean Heb_11:1-40, what saint is there mentioned upon record, but had one wart or another? Had not Abraham his wart, in saying, that Sarah was his sister? Had not Sarah hers in laughing? Had not Jacob, Isaac, and Joseph theirs? Moses, Rahab, Samson, Jephthah, and David theirs? Luther had his, and our reformers theirs; yet God owned, used, and honoured them. Surely therefore, though there be much evil in a sin of infirmity, especially if a man fall into it again and again; yet Christ will not leave a man, or east him off for it. If these things be true, then what necessity is upon us, and what great cause have we to examine ourselves, and to consider seriously, what sort of sins those sins are, which we labour under.
But it seems that all the sins of the godly are not sins of infirmity, and God will not cast off a godly man for any sin: what advantage, therefore, hath this sin of infirmity above other sins; or what disadvantage do the other sins of the godly labour under, which this sin of infirmity doth not?
1. Much, very much: for though my sin be great; yet if it be a sin of infirmity, it shall not hinder the present acceptance of my duty.
2. Although my sin he great, yet if it be but an infirmity, it shall not hinder the sense of my justification.
3. Though my sin be great, yet if it be but an infirmity, there is a pardon that lies in course for it; and though it be good to repent of every sin, with a distinct, and particular repentance, yet it is not necessary that there should he a particular repentance for every sin of infirmity.
4. Though a mans sin be great, yet if it be but an infirmity, it shall never bring a scourge upon his family. And though my sin be great, yet if it be but a sin of infirmity, it shall never spoil my gifts, nor make them unprofitable: if a man have great gifts, praying, exercising gifts, and his life be scandalous, what saith the world? But suppose that upon due search and examination, I find that my sin is no other than a sin of infirmity, which will not cast me off, although through my weakness, I do fall into it again and again, what then?
Then several duties follow, and accordingly you are to take up these, and the like gracious resolutions.
1. If my sin be a sin of infirmity, and no other, then through grace will I observe what Gods design is, in suffering and leaving such infirmities in me, and will labour what I can and may, to promote and advance that design.
2. If my sin be but a sin of infirmity, and God will not cast me off for it, then through the grace of God, will I never believe these false reports of Christ, and those misrepresentations of Him which Satan would put upon Him, whereby he would persuade me and others, that our Lord Christ is a hard master.
3. If the Lord Christ will not cast me off foe my sins of infirmity, then, through the grace of God, I will not question my spiritual estate and condition for every sin; I will grieve for every sin of infirmity because it is a sin, but I will not question my condition, because it is but a sin of infirmity.
4. Then will not I cast off myself and others for the sins of infirmities. Shall Christs eye be good and shall my eye be bad?
5. Then will not I cast off the things of Christ because of any infirmity that may adhere to them, or the dispensation of them. When Christ took our nature on Him, His deity was veiled under our humanity, His excellency under our infirmity So now, His grace and His dispensations are veiled under the infirmity of our administrations: as for example: preaching is an ordinance of Christ, yet the sermon may be so delivered, with so much weakness of the speaker, that the ordinance of Christ may be veiled under much infirmity.
6. And if the Lord will not cast me off for my infirmities, then, through grace, I will never be discouraged from the performance of any duty. I will pray as I can and hear as I can, and though I be not able to pray as I would, I will pray as I am able; and though I am not able to examine mine own heart as I would, yet I will do what I am able, for the Lord will not cast me off for infirmities, and therefore I will not cast off my duties because of them.
7. And, lastly, if the Lord Jesus Christ will not cast me off for mine infirmities, then will I never sin because the sin is but a sin of infirmity. (W. Bridge, M. A.)
Watch and Pray
Two points specially claim our attention here.
I. The command given-Watch and pray.
1. Watch. The word is very simple. A physician watches a sick man. A porter watches a building. A sentinel watches on a citys wall.
(1) To watch implies not to be taken up with other things.
(2) To watch implies to expect the enemys approach.
(3) Watching also includes an examination of the points of attack. The physician will observe what course the disease is taking, what organs it is likely to touch. Thus he watches.
2. Pray.
(1) This seems to refer to a habit of prayer. Not a wild cry in danger or sorrow.
(2) Special prayer with reference to temptation is also implied. Prayer to be delivered from the presence of temptation, prayer for victory in temptation.
II. The suitability of the command to those exposed to temptation.
1. The two parts together form the safeguard. Watching supplies materials for prayer. Prayer makes watching effectual. To pray only is presumption. To watch only is to depend on self.
2. The command also suits us because of the enemys subtlety. We need to discover his wiles by watching. We pray for wisdom to discern his specious assaults.
3. And because of our own weakness. (Compare verses 29, 31, with 67, 68).
4. It is also suitable in consequence of our Lords appointment. The battle is His. He appoints its laws. And He has said, Watch and pray. The command speaks thus to true disciples. What does it say to those who are careless and unbelieving? (W. S. Bruce, M. A.)
Prayer all comprehensive
Prayer is not only request made to God, but converse had with Him. It is the expression of desire to Him so as to supply it-of purpose so as to steady it-of hope so as to brighten it. It is the bringing of ones heart into the sunshine, so that like a plant, its inward life may thrive for an outward development. It is the plea of ones better self against ones weaker self. It utters despondency so that it may attain confidence. It is the expression and the exercise of love for all that is good and true. It is a wrestle with evil in the presence of Supreme Goodness. It is the ascent of the soul above time into the freedom of eternity. (Christian World Pulpit.)
The need for watchfulness
It seems as though there were no word so far reaching as the word watch. Vigilance is the price of everything good and great in earth or heaven. It was for his faithful vigilance that the memory of the Pompeian sentinel is embalmed in poetry and recorded in history. Nothing but unceasing watchfulness can keep the heart in harmony with Gods heart. It was a stormy, boisterous night. The dark clouds hung over us, and the wind came with tenfold fury. The sea roiled in mountains, and the proud ship seemed but a toy amid those tremendous billows. Far up on the mast, on the look out, the sailor was heard to cry, An iceberg on the starboard bow. An iceberg on the larboard bow! The deck officer called to the helmsman, Port the helm steadily! and the sailors at the wheel heard and obeyed. The officers were aroused, for there was danger on board to three hundred precious souls. The captain spent a sleepless night, pacing the deck or cabin. Gigantic icebergs were coming against the vessel, and eternal vigilance was the price of our safety in that northern sea. And so it is all through human life. (Anon.)
Watchfulness
Watching is never pleasant work; no soldier really likes it. Men prefer even the excitement and danger of the battlefield to the long weeks of patient vigilance, which nevertheless may do quite as much as a victorious battle to decide the issues of a campaign. Now it is just so in the spiritual war. The forces of civilization rendered our soldiers more than a match for all the barbarous courage of their swarthy foes, provided only by constant vigilance they were in a position to use those forces; and even so the omnipotence of God renders the true Christian more than a match for all the forces of hell, provided only he too is sufficiently vigilant to detect the approach of the foe, and sufficiently wise to confront him with the courage of faith when his approach is detected; but if he walks carelessly, or fails to exercise proper vigilance, the battle will be lost almost before the danger is realized, and Faith will forfeit her victory just because she was not ready to put forth all the supernatural powers that she may command. It is, alas! not an uncommon thing to meet with Christian souls that seem to know something of the life of faith, and yet, to their great surprise, find themselves overcome when they least expect it. We observe sometimes a certain tone of petulance in these admissions of failure, as if in their heart of hearts some sort of implication were cast upon the faithfulness of God, although they would shrink from expressing this in so many words. Now, clearly the cause of all such failures must lie with us, and it will be our wisdom to endeavour to discover it; while it is the worst of folly to charge God with unfaithfulness. What are we placed in this world for? Obviously that we may be trained and developed for our future position by exposure to the forces of evil. Were we so sheltered from evil as that there should be no need for constant watchfulness, we should lose the moral benefit which a habit of constant watchfulness induces. We know that it is a law of nature, that faculties which are never employed perish from disuse; and, on the other hand, faculties which are fully and frequently employed acquire a wonderful capacity. Is not this equally true in the spiritual world? We are being trained probably for high and holy service by-and-by, in which we shall need all those faculties that are now being quickened and trained by our contact with danger, and our exposure to apparently hostile conditions of existence. We are to be trained, by learning quickness of perception of danger here, to exercise quickness of perception in ministry and willing service yonder. Besides, Watchfulness continually provides opportunities for faith, and tends to draw us the closer, and keep us the closer, to Him by whom alone we stand. Were we to be so saved from evil by a single act, as that we should have no further need of Watchfulness, should we not lose much that now makes us feel our dependence on Him who is our constant safety? Have we not to thank God for the very daggers that constrain us to keep so near Him if we are to be safe at all? Let us point out what Watchfulness is not before we go on to consider what it is. And
I. Watchfulness is something quite distinct from nervous timidity and morbid apprehensiveness-the condition of a man who sees an enemy in every bush, and is tortured by a thousand alarms and all the misgivings of unbelief. David did not show himself watchful, but faithless, when he exclaimed, I shall now one day perish by the hands of Saul; and we do not show ourselves watchful when we go on our way trembling, depressed with all sorts of forebodings of disaster. Let me offer a homely illustration of what I mean. I was amused the other day at hearing a soldiers account of a terrible fright that he had during the time of the Fenian scare a few years ago. It fell to his lot one dark night to act as sentinel in the precincts of an important arsenal, which it was commonly supposed might be the scene of a great explosion any night. The fortress was surrounded by a common, and was therefore easy to be approached by evil-disposed persons. The night, as I have said, was as dark as a night could be, and he was all alone, and full of apprehensions of danger. He stood still for a moment fancying he heard something moving near him, and then stepped backwards for a few paces, when he suddenly felt himself come into violent contact with something, which he incontinently concluded must be a crouching Fenian. I was never so frightened, he said, before or since in my life, and to tell you the truth, I fell sprawling on my back. Imagine my feelings when I found that the thing that had terrified me beyond all description was only a harmless sheep that had fallen asleep a little too near my beat. Now, dear friends, I think that this soldiers ridiculous, but very excusable, panic may serve to illustrate the experience of many timid, apprehensive Christians. They live in a state of chronic panic, always expecting to be assailed by some hostile influence, which they shall prove wholly incompetent to resist. If they foresee the approach of any circumstances that are likely to put their religion to a test, they at once make up their mind that fiasco and overthrow are inevitable; and when they are suddenly confronted by what seems an adverse influence, or promises to be a severe temptation, they are ready to give all up in despair. They forget that our Lord has taught us to take no anxious thought for the morrow, and has assured us that sufficient for the day is the evil thereof.
II. Nor again does watchfulness consist in morbid introspectiveness, or in a disposition to charge ourselves with all sorts of imagined forms of evil. To their morbid sensibility everything has depravity in it; good and generous actions only spring from self-seeking; every natural affection is inordinate; every commonplace gratification a loving of pleasure rather than God. It is surely possible, believe me, dear Christian friends, to emulate the exploits of a Don Quixote in our religious life, and to run a tilt at any number of spiritual windmills, but this is not watchfulness. A clerical brother of mine, alarmed from his slumbers by a policeman who reported his church open, imagined that he had captured a burglar by the hair of his head in the tower of his church, when he had only laid violent hands in the darkness upon the church mop! It is quite possible to convert a mop into a burglar in our own spiritual experiences. Just once more let me ask you to bear in mind that Watchfulness does not consist in, and is not identical with, a severe affectation of solemnity, add a pious aversion to anything like natural mirth or cheerful hilarity. I have before my eyes at this moment the recollection of a dear and honoured brother, who, when something amusing had been related at his table, suddenly drew himself up when he was just beginning to join in the hearty laugh, and observed to me with much seriousness, I am always afraid of losing communion by giving way to levity. I confess I admired the good mans conscientiousness, which I am sure was perfectly sincere, but I could not help thinking that he was confusing between sombreness and sobriety.
III. But having pointed out certain forms or habits of conduct which are not be mistaken for Watchfulness, though they often are, let us proceed to inquire what watchfulness is; we have seen what it is not. And here it may be well to notice that two distinct words, or perhaps I should say sets of words, in the Greek, are translated in our version by the one word-watch. The one set of terms indicates the necessity of guarding against sleep, and the other the necessity of guarding against any form of moral intoxication and insobriety. Both these ideas are presented to us together in a single passage in the first Epistle to the Thessalonians: Let us not sleep as do others; but let us watch and be sober. For they who sleep sleep in the night: and they that be drunken are drunken in the night. Here the two dangers arising-the one from sleep, and the other from drunkenness-are brought before us at once; and the two words, which are each of them usually translated by the English word-watch, are employed to guard us against these dangers. Let us watch and be sober. These dangers seem to be in some respects the opposites of each other-the one springs from heaviness and dullness of disposition, and the other from undue excitability. The one is the special danger incidental to monotonous routine and a dead level of quiet regularity, the other is the danger incidental to a life full of stir and bustle-a life where cares and pleasures, successes and failures, important enterprises and stunning disappointments, bringing with them alternating experiences of elation or depression, are only too apt to prove all-engrossing, and to exclude the vivid sense of eternal realities. The one danger will naturally specially threaten the man of phlegmatic temperament and equable disposition, the other will more readily assault the man whose nervous system is highly strung, whether he be of sanguine or melancholic habit. In the present passage the call to watch is coupled with the exhortation to pray, and similarly St. Peter warns us to be sober and watch unto prayer. This suggests to us that Watchfulness needs first of all to be exorcised in the maintenance of our proper relations with God. If only these be preserved inviolate, everything else is sure to go well with us; but where anything like coldness settles down upon our relations with God, backsliding has already commenced, and unless it be checked we lie at the mercy of our foe. Oh, Christian soul, guard with jealous care against the first beginnings of listlessness and coldness and unreality in thine intercourse with God! Not less, perhaps even more, do we need to watch in the other sense which, as I have pointed out, the word bears in New Testament Scripture. Let us not only keep awake, but let us be sober. We need to remember that we are in an enemys land, and that unless we are constantly breathing the atmosphere of heaven, the atmosphere of earth, which is all that we have left, soon becomes poisonous, and must produce a sort of moral intoxication. How often have I seen a Christian man completely forget himself under the influence of social excitement! But I hasten to say, Do not let us fall into the mistake of supposing that it is only the light-hearted and the pleasure loving that need to be warned against the danger of becoming intoxicated by worldly influences. The cares and even the occupations of life may have just as deleterious an effect upon us in this respect as the pleasures. Many a man of business is just as much intoxicated with the daily excitements arising from the fluctuations of the market or of the Stock Exchange, and just as much blinded to higher things by the absorbing interests connected with money making or money losing as the votary of pleasure can be at the racecourse or in the ballroom. Yet again, Watchfulness is to be shown not only in maintaining our relations with God, in resisting any disposition to be drowsy, and in guarding against the intoxicating influence of worldly excitement; it is also to be shown in detecting the first approach of temptation, or the first uprisings of an unholy desire. The careful general feels his enemy by his scouts, and thus is prepared to deal with him when the attack takes place. Even so temptation may often be resisted with ease when its first approach is discerned; but it acquires sometimes an almost irresistible power, if it be allowed to draw too near. But I spoke a few moments ago of the importance of watching, not only against the beginning of temptation without, but also against any disposition to make terms with temptation within. Here, I am persuaded, lies, in most instances, the secret cause of failure. Balaam was inwardly hankering after the house full of silver and gold at the very moment when he affected to despise it. But there is a danger on the other side, against which we have to guard with equal watchfulness. And it is the danger of incipient self-complacency. (W. H. Aitken.)
Advantage of knowing ones weak point
It is the interest of every man not to hide from himself his ailment. What would you think of a man who was sick, and attempted to make himself believe that it was his foot that was ailing, when it was his heart? Suppose a man should come to his physician and have him examine the wrong eye, and pay for the physicians prescription, founded on the belief that his eye was slightly but not much damaged, and should go away, saying, I am a great deal happier than I was, although the doctor had not looked at the diseased eye at all? If a man should have a cancer, or a deadly sore, on one arm, and should refuse to let the physician see that, but should show him the well arm, he would imitate what men do who use all deceits and delusions to hide their moral sores and weaknesses and faults, as far as possible, from themselves, from all persons, and then congratulate themselves that they are not in danger. Watchfulness requires that a man should be honest, and should know where he is, and where his danger is. Let others set their watch where they need it, and you set yours where you need it. Each mans watchfulness should be according to his temperament and constitution. (H. W. Beecher.)
Watching-a military figure
Undoubtedly this is a military figure; although watching may be a domestic figure, ordinarily it is military. A tower, a castle, a fort, is not content with simply the strength of its walls, and its various defences. Sentinels are placed all round about it, and they walk both night and day, and look out on every side to descry any approaching danger, that the soldiers within may put themselves at once in a condition to receive attack. Still more are a moving army watchful, whether upon the march or in the camp. They throw out advanced guards. The picket line is established by night and by day. Men are set apart to watch on purpose that no enemy may take them unawares; that they may constantly be prepared for whatever incursion the chances of war may bring upon them. It is here taken for granted that we are making a campaign through life. The assumption all the way through is, that we are upon an enemys ground, and that we are surrounded, or liable to be surrounded, with adversaries who will rush in upon us, and take us captive at unawares. We are commanded, therefore, to do as soldiers do, whether in fort or in camp-to be always vigilant, always prepared. (H. W. Beecher.)
Each to guard against his own temptations
Your excess of disposition, your strength of passion, and your temptableness are not the same as your neighbours. Therefore it is quite foolish for you to watch as your neighbour watches. Every man must set his watch according to his own disposition, and know his own disposition better than anybody else knows it. If a fort is situated so that the weakest side is on the east, the commander, if he is wise, will set his watch there. He says, I believe that if I defend this point, nothing can do me any harm, and sets his watch there. But suppose the commander of a fort, whose weak place was on the west side, should put his force all on the other side! If he would defend his fort successfully, he should put his soldiers where it is weak. Here is a man who watches against pride; but your temptation is on the side of vanity. It will not do for you to watch against pride, because pride is not your besetting sin. There is many a man who flatters himself, that because his neighbour has corrected his faults by gaining a victory over pride, all he himself needs to do is to gain a victory over pride. He has no difficulty in that, because he is not tempted in his pride. It is very easy to watch against an enemy that does not exist. It is very easy to gain a victory where there is no adversary. (H. W. Beecher.)
Watch against times of temptation
Every man should know what are the circumstances, the times, and the seasons in which he is liable to sin. To make this matter entirely practical, there are a great many who neglect to watch until the proper time and seasons for watching have passed away. Suppose your fault is of the tongue? Suppose your temper takes that as a means of giving itself air and explosion? With one man it is when he rises in the morning, and before breakfast he is peculiarly nervous and susceptible. It is then that he is irritable. It is then that things do not look right. And it is then that his tongue, as it were, snaps, and throws off sparks of fire. With another man it is at evening, when he is jaded, and wearied with the care and labour of the day. He has emptied himself of nervous excitement, and left only excitability. And then is the time when he is liable to break down in various ways. Men must set their watch at the time when the enemy is accustomed to come. Indians usually make their attack at three or four oclock in the morning, when men sleep soundest; and that is the time to watch against Indians. There is no use of doing it at ten oclock in the morning. They do not come then. If it be when you are sick that you are most subject to malign passions, then that is the time when you must set your watch. Or, if it be when you are well that the tide of blood swells too feverishly in you, then that is the time when you must set your watch. If, at one time of the day more than another, experience has shown that you are liable to be tempted, then in that part of the day you must be on your guard. Everybody has his hours, his times and seasons, and his circumstances; and every man should learn them for himself; and every man should set his watch then and there. And frequently, by watching at the right time, you can easily carry yourself over all the rest of the day. (H. W. Beecher.)
The danger of dallying with temptation
There is such a thing as dallying with temptation. Many a maiden will insensibly, and step by step, allow herself to be led to things that, if not wrong, are yet so near it that they lie in its very twilight and she is all the time excusing to herself such permissions and such dalliance, Baying, I do not intend to do wrong; I shall in due time recover myself. There is many a man who takes the serpent into his hand, because it is lithe, and graceful, and burnished, and beautiful, and plays with that which in some unguarded moment will strike him with its poison fangs; and it is poor excuse, when this dalliance has led him to the very edge of temptation, and has struck the fatal poison into him, for him to say, I did not mean to. The mischief is done. The damnation is to come. And it is poor comfort to say, I did not mean to. Pass by it; come not near it; keep far from it, and then you will be safe. But it is not safe for innocent, or inexperienced, or unconscious, or Inconsiderate virtue, to go, by dalliance, near to things that carry in them the very venom of Satan. What should you think of a man who, coming down to New York, should say, I have had quite an experience this morning. I have been up to one of the shambles where they were butchering; and I saw them knock down oxen, and saw them cut their throats, and saw the blood flow in streams from the great gashes. I spent a whole half-day there, looking at men killing, and killing, and killing. What would you say of a man who said, I have been crawling through the sewers under the street; for I want to know what is at the bottom of things in this city? What kind of curiosity would that be? What would you think of a man who went where he could see the offal of hospitals and dissecting rooms, and went wallowing in rottenness and disease, because he wanted to increase his knowledge of things in general? And yet, here are men who take things more feculent, more fetid, more foul, more damnable and dangerous-the diseases, the ulcers, the sores, and the filth of the appetites and the passions; and they will go wading and looking at things that a man should shut his eyes on if they were providentially thrown before him. Why, there are some things that it is a sin to look at twice. And yet there are men who hunt them up! Then again, there are men who live so near to cheating that, though they do not mean to cheat, circumstances cannot bend them without pushing them over. There are many men who are like an apple tree in my garden, whose trunk and roots, and two-thirds of the branches, are in the garden, and one-third of whose branches are outside of the garden wall. And there are many men whose trunk and roots are on the side of honesty and uprightness, but who are living so near the garden wall that they throw their boughs clear over into the highway where iniquities tramp, and are free. It is never safe for a man to run so near to the line of right and wrong, that if he should lose a wheel he would go over. It is like travelling on a mountain road near a precipice. You should keep so far from the precipice, that if your waggon breaks down there is room enough between you and the precipice. Otherwise, you cannot be safe. (H. W. Beecher.)
The Biblical Illustrator, edited by Joseph S. Exell (c. 1880s–1900s) — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword module.
The Expositor's Bible 1887 · Public Domain On v34 CHAPTER 14:34-42 (Mar_14:34-42)
CHAPTER 14:34-42 (Mar_14:34-42)
THE AGONY
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"And He saith unto them, My soul is exceeding sorrowful even unto death: abide ye here, and watch. And He went forward a little, and fell on the ground, and prayed that, if it were possible, the hour might pass away from Him. And He said, Abba, Father, all things are possible unto Thee: remove this cup from Me: howbeit not what I will, but what Thou wilt. And He cometh, and findeth them sleeping, and saith unto Peter, Simon, sleepest thou? couldest thou not watch one hour? Watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation: the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak. And again He went away, and prayed, saying the same words. And again He came, and found them sleeping, for their eyes were very heavy; and they wist not what to answer Him. And He cometh the third time, and saith unto them, Sleep on now, and take your rest: it is enough; the hour is come; behold, the Son of man is betrayed into the hands of sinners. Arise, let us be going: behold, he that betrayeth Me is at hand." Mar_14:34-42 (R.V.)
SKEPTICS and believers have both remarked that St. John, the only Evangelist who was said to have been present, gives no account of the Agony.
It is urged by the former, that the serene composure of the discourse in his Gospel leaves no room for subsequent mental conflict and recoil from suffering, which are inconsistent besides with his conception of a Divine man, too exalted to be the subject of such emotions.
But do not the others know of composure which bore to speak of His Body as broken bread, and seeing in the cup the likeness of His Blood shed, gave it to be the food of His Church for ever?
Was the resignation less serene which spoke of the smiting of the Shepherd, and yet of His leading back the flock to Galilee? If the narrative was rejected as inconsistent with the calmness of Jesus in the fourth Gospel, it should equally have repelled the authors of the other three.
We may grant that emotion, agitation, is inconsistent with unbelieving conceptions of the Christ of the fourth Gospel. But this only proves how false those conceptions are. For the emotion, the agitation, is already there. At the grave of Lazarus the word which tells that when He groaned in spirit He was troubled, describes one's distress in the presence of some palpable opposing force (Joh_11:34). There was, however, a much closer approach to His emotion in the garden, when the Greek world first approached Him. Then He contrasted its pursuit of self-culture with His own doctrine of self-sacrifice, declaring that even a grain of wheat must either die or abide by itself alone. To Jesus that doctrine was no smooth, easily announced theory, and so He adds, "Now is My soul troubled, and what shall I say? Father, save Me from this hour. But for this cause came I unto this hour:" (Joh_12:27).
Such is the Jesus of the fourth Gospel, by no means that of its modern analysts. Nor is enough said, when we remind them that the Speaker of these words was capable of suffering; we must add that profound agitation at the last was inevitable, for One so resolute in coming to this hour, yet so keenly sensitive of its dread.
The truth is that the silence of St. John is quite in his manner. It is so that he passes by the Sacraments, as being familiar to his readers, already instructed in the gospel story. But he gives previous discourses in which the same doctrine is expressed which was embodied in each Sacrament, -- the declaration that Nicodemus must be born of water, and that the Jews must eat His flesh and drink His blood. It is thus that instead of the agony, he records that earlier agitation. And this threefold recurrence of the same expedient is almost incredible except by design. St. John was therefore not forgetful of Gethsemane.
A coarser infidelity has much to say about the shrinking of our Lord from death. Such weakness is pronounced unworthy, and the bearing of multitudes of brave men and even of Christian martyrs, unmoved in the flames, is contrasted with the strong crying and tears of Jesus.
It would suffice to answer that Jesus also failed not when the trial came, but before Pontius Pilate witnessed a good confession, and won upon the cross the adoration of a fellow-sufferer and the confession of a Roman soldier. It is more than enough to answer that His story, so far from relaxing the nerve of human fortitude, has made those who love Him stronger to endure tortures than were emperors and inquisitors to invent them. What men call His weakness has inspired ages with fortitude. Moreover, the censure which such critics, much at ease, pronounce on Jesus expecting crucifixion, arises entirely from the magnificent and unique standard by which they try Him; for who is so hard-hearted as to think less of the valor of the martyrs because it was bought by many a lonely and intense conflict with the flesh?
For us, we accept the standard; we deny that Jesus in the garden came short of absolute perfection; but we call attention to the fact that much is conceded to us, when a criticism is ruthlessly applied to our Lord which would excite indignation and contempt if brought to bear on the silent sufferings of any hero or martyr but Himself.
Perfection is exactly what complicates the problem here.
Conscious of our own weakness, we not only justify but enjoin upon ourselves every means of attaining as much nobility as we may. We "steel ourselves to bear," and therefore we are led to expect the same of Jesus. We aim at some measure of what, in its lowest stage, is callous insensibility. Now that word is negative; it asserts the absence of paralysis of a faculty, not its fullness and activity. Thus we attain victory by a double process; in part by resolutely turning our mind away, and only in part by its ascendancy over appreciated distress. We administer anodynes to the soul. But Jesus, when He had tasted thereof, would not drink. The horrors which were closing around Him were perfectly apprehended, that they might perfectly be overcome.
Thus suffering, He became an example for gentle womanhood, and tender childhood, as well as man boastful of his stoicism. Moreover, He introduced into the world a new type of virtue, much softer and more emotional than that of the sages. The stoic, to whom pain is no evil, and the Indian laughing and singing at the stake, are partly actors and partly perversions of humanity. But the good Shepherd is also, for His gentleness, a lamb. And it is His influence which has opened our eyes to see a charm unknown before, in the sensibility of our sister and wife and child. Therefore, since the perfection of manhood means neither the ignoring of pain nor the denying of it, but the union of absolute recognition with absolute mastery of its fearfulness, Jesus, on the approach of agony and shame, and who shall say what besides, yields Himself beforehand to the full contemplation of His lot. He does so, while neither excited by the trial, nor driven to bay by the scoffs of His murderers, but in solitude, in the dark, with stealthy footsteps approaching through the gloom.
And ever since, all who went farthest down into the dread Valley, and on whom the shadow of death lay heaviest, found there the footsteps of its Conqueror. It must be added that we cannot measure the keenness of the sensibility thus exposed to torture. A physical organization and a spiritual nature fresh from the creative hand, undegraded by the transmitted heritage of ages of artificial, diseased and sinful habit, unblunted by one deviation from natural ways, undrugged by one excess, was surely capable of a range of feeling as vast in anguish as in delight.
The skeptic supposes that a torrent of emotion swept our Savior off His feet. The only narratives he can go upon give quite the opposite impression. He is seen to fathom all that depth of misery, He allows the voice of nature to utter all the bitter earnestness of its reluctance, yet He never loses self-control, nor wavers in loyalty to His Father, nor renounces His submission to the Father's will. Nothing in the scene is more astonishing than its combination of emotion with self-government. Time after time He pauses, gently and lovingly admonishes others, and calmly returns to His intense and anxious vigil.
Thus He has won the only perfect victory. With a nature so responsive to emotion He has not refused to feel, nor abstracted His soul from suffering, nor silenced the flesh by such an effort as when we shut our ears against a discord. Jesus sees all, confesses that He would fain escape, but resigns Himself to God.
In the face of all asceticisms, as of all stoicisms, Gethsemane is the eternal protest that every part of human nature is entitled to be heard, provided that the spirit retains the arbitration over all.
Hitherto nothing has been assumed which a reasonable skeptic can deny. Nor should such a reader fail to observe the astonishing revelation of character in the narrative, its gentle pathos, its intensity beyond what commonly belongs to gentleness, its affection, its mastery over the disciples, its filial submission. Even the rich imaginative way of thinking which invented the parables and sacrament, is in the word "this cup."
But if the story of Gethsemane can be vindicated from such a point of view, what shall be said when it is viewed as the Church regards it? Both testaments declare that the sufferings of the Messiah were supernatural. In the Old Testament it was pleasing to the Father to bruise Him. The terrible cry of Jesus to a God who had forsaken Him is conclusive evidence from the New Testament. And if we ask what such a cry may mean, we find that He is a curse for us, and made to be sin for us, Who knew no sin.
If the older theology drew incredible conclusions from such words, that is no reason why we should ignore them. It is incredible that God was angry with His Son, or that in any sense the Omniscient One confused the Savior with the sinful world. It is incredible that Jesus ever endured estrangement as of lost souls from the One Whom in Gethsemane He called Abba Father, and in the hour of utter darkness, My God, and into whose Fatherly hands He committed His Spirit. Yet it is clear that He is being treated otherwise than a sinless Being, as such, ought to expect. His natural stand-place is exchanged for ours. And as our exceeding misery, and the bitter curse of all our sin fell on Him, Who bore it away by bearing it, our pollution surely affected His purity as keenly as our stripes tried His sensibility. He shuddered as well as agonized. The deep waters in which He sank were defiled as well as cold. Only this can explain the agony and bloody sweat. And as we, for whom He endured it, think of this, we can only be silent and adore.
Once more, Jesus returns to His disciples, but no longer to look for sympathy, or to bid them watch and pray. The time for such warnings is now past: the crisis, "the hour" is come, and His speech is sad and solemn. "Sleep on now and take your rest, it is enough." Had the sentence stopped there, none would ever have proposed to treat it as a question, "Do ye now sleep on and take your rest?" It would plainly have meant, "Since ye refuse My counsel and will none on My reproof, I strive no further to arouse the torpid will, the inert conscience, the inadequate affection. Your resistance prevails against My warning."
But critics fail to reconcile this with what follows, "Arise, let us be going." They fail through supposing that words of intense emotion must be interpreted like a syllogism or a lawyer's parchment.
"For My part, sleep on; but your sleep is now to be rudely broken: take your rest so far as respect for your Master would have kept you watchful; but the traitor is at hand to break such repose, let him not find you ignobly slumbering. Arise, he is at hand that doth betray Me.'"
This is not sarcasm, which taunts and wounds. But there is a lofty and profound irony in the contrast between their attitude and their circumstances, their sleep and the eagerness of the traitor.
And so they lost the most noble opportunity ever given to mortals, not through blank indifference nor unbelief, but by allowing the flesh to overcome the spirit. And thus do multitudes lose heaven, sleeping until the golden hours are gone, and He who said, "Sleep on now," says, "He that is unrighteous, let him be unrighteous still."
Remembering that defilement was far more urgent than pain in our Savior's agony, how sad is the meaning of the words, "the Son of man is betrayed into the hands of sinners," and even of "the sinners," the representatives of all the evil from which He had kept Himself unspotted.
The one perfect flower of humanity is thrown by treachery into the polluted and polluting grasp of wickedness in its many forms; the traitor delivers Him to hirelings; the hirelings to hypocrites; the hypocrites to an unjust and skeptical pagan judge; the judge to his brutal soldiery; who expose him to all that malice can wreak upon the most sensitive organization, or ingratitude upon the most tender heart.
At every stage an outrage. Every outrage an appeal to the indignation of Him who held them in the hollow of His hand. Surely it may well be said, Consider Him who endured such contradiction; and endured it from sinners against Himself.
William Robertson Nicoll, ed., The Expositor's Bible (London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1887–1910) — public domain. 65 of 66 books (1 Corinthians is not separately keyed, as that volume carries no machine-parseable verse references); section-level commentary keyed to the opening verse. Introductory and overview sections not keyed to a specific passage are excluded.
Alexander MacLaren 1905 · Public Domain On vv37–38
Mark
‘STRONG CRYING AND TEARS’
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THE SLEEPING APOSTLE
Mar 14:37.
It is a very old Christian tradition that this Gospel is in some sense the Apostle Peter’s. There are not many features in the Gospel itself which can be relied on as confirming this idea. Perhaps one such may be found in this plaintive remonstrance, which is only preserved for us here. Matthew’s Gospel, indeed, tells us that the rebuke was addressed to Peter, but blunts the sharp point of it as directed to him, by throwing it into the plural, as if spoken to all the three slumberers: ‘What, could ye not watch with Me one hour?’ To Matthew, the special direction of the words was unimportant, but Peter could never forget how the Master had come out from the shadow of the olives to him lying there in the moonlight, and stood before him worn with His solitary agony, and in a voice yet tremulous from His awful conflict, had said to him, so lately loud in his professions of fidelity, ‘Sleepest thou? ‘
It was but an hour or two since he had been saying, and meaning, ‘I will lay down my life for Thy sake,’ and this was what all that fervour had come to. No wonder if there is almost a tone of surprise discernible in our Lord’s word, as if He who ‘marvelled at the unbelief’ of those who were not His followers, marvelled still more at the imperfect sympathy of those who were, and marvelled most of all at such a sudden ebb of such a flood of devotion. Surprise and sorrow, the pain of a loving heart thrown back upon itself, the sharp pang of feeling how much less one is loved than one loves, the pleading with His forgetful servant, rebuke without anger, all breathe through the question, so pathetic in its simplicity, so powerful to bow in contrition by reason of its very gentleness and self-restraint.
The record of this Evangelist proves how deep it sank into the impulsive, loving heart of the apostle, and yet the denials in the high priest’s palace, which followed so soon, show how much less power it had on him on the day when it was spoken, than it gained as he looked back on it through the long vista of years that had passed, when he told the story to Mark.
The first lesson to be gathered from these words is drawn from the name by which our Lord here addresses the apostle: ‘Simon, sleepest thou?’
Now the usage of Mark’s Gospel in reference to this apostle’s name is remarkably uniform and precise. Both his names occur in Mark’s catalogue of the Apostles: ‘Simon he surnamed Peter.’ He is never called by both again, but before that point he is always Simon, and after it he is always Peter, except in this verse. The other Evangelists show similar purpose, for the most part, in their interchange of the names. Luke, for instance, always calls him Simon up to the same point as Mark, except once where he uses the form ‘Simon Peter,’ and thereafter always Peter, except in Christ’s solemn warning, ‘Simon, Simon, Satan hath desired to have you,’ and in the report of the tidings that met the disciples on their return from Emmaus, ‘The Lord hath appeared to Simon.’ So Matthew calls him Simon in the story of the first miraculous draught of fishes, and in the catalogue of Apostles, and afterwards uniformly Peter, except in Christ’s answer to the apostle’s great confession, where He names him ‘Simon Bar Jona,’ in order, as would appear, to bring into more solemn relief the significance of the immediately following words, ‘Thou art Peter.’ In John’s Gospel, again, we find the two forms ‘Simon Peter’ and the simple ‘Peter’ used throughout with almost equal frequency, while ‘Simon’ is only employed at the very beginning, and in the heart-piercing triple question at the end, ‘Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou Me?’
The conclusion seems a fair one from these details that, on the whole, the name Simon brings into prominence the natural unrenewed humanity, and the name Peter suggests the Apostolic office, the bold confessor, the impulsive, warm-hearted lover and follower of the Lord. And it is worth noticing that, with one exception, the instances in which he is called by his former name, after his designation to the apostolate, occur in words addressed to him by our Lord.
He had given the name, and surely His withdrawal of it was meant to be significant, and must have struck with boding, rebuking emphasis on the ear and conscience of the apostle. ‘Simon, Simon, Satan hath desired to have you’: ‘Remember thy human weakness, and in the sore conflict that is before thee, trust not to thine own power.’ ‘Simon, sleepest thou?’ ‘Can I call thee Peter now, when thou hast not cared for My sorrow enough to wake while I wrestled? Is this thy fervid love?’ ‘Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou Me?’ ‘Thou wast Peter because thou didst confess Me; thou hast fallen back to thine old level by denying Me. It is not enough that in secret I should have restored thee to My love. Here before thy brethren, thou must win back thy forfeited name and place by a confession as open as the denial, and thrice repeated like it. Once thou hast answered, but still thou art “Simon.” Twice thou hast answered, but not yet can I call thee “Peter.” Thrice thou hast answered, by each reply effacing a former denial, and now I ask no more. Take back thine office; henceforth thou shalt be called “Cephas” as before.’
And so it was. In the Acts of the Apostles, and in Paul’s letters, ‘Peter’ or ‘Cephas’ entirely obliterates ‘Simon.’ Only for ease in finding him, the messengers of Cornelius are to ask for him in Joppa by the name by which he would be known outside the Church, and his old companion James begins his speech to the council at Jerusalem by referring with approbation to what ‘Simeon’ had said, as if he liked to use the old name, that brought back memories of the far-off days in Galilee, before they had known the Master.
Very touching, too, is it to notice how the apostle himself, while using the name by which he was best known in the Church, in the introduction to his first Epistle, calls himself ‘Simon Peter’ in his second, as if to the end he felt that the old nature clung to him, and was not yet, ‘so long as he was in this tabernacle,’ wholly subdued under the dominion of the better self, which his Master had breathed into him.
So we see that a bit of biography and an illustration of a large truth are wrapped up for us in so small a matter as the apparently fortuitous use of one or other of these names. I do not suppose that in every instance where either of them occur, we can explain their occurrence by a reference to such thoughts. But still there is an unmistakable propriety in several instances in the employment of one rather than the other, and we may fairly suggest the lesson as put hero in a picturesque form, which Paul gives us in definite words, ‘The flesh lusteth against the spirit, and the spirit against the flesh.’ The better and the worse nature contend in all Christian souls, or, as our Lord says with such merciful leniency in this very context, ‘The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.’ However real and deep the change which passes over us when ‘Christ is formed in us,’ it is only by degrees that the transformation spreads through our being. The renewing process follows upon the bestowment of the new life, and works from its deep inward centre outwards and upwards to the circumference and surface of our being, on condition of our own constant diligence and conflict.
True, ‘If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature’; but also, and precisely because he is, therefore the daily and hourly exhortation is, ‘Put on the new man.’ The leaven is buried in the dough, and must be well kneaded up with it if the whole is to be leavened. Peter is still Simon, and sometimes seems to be so completely Simon that he has ceased to be Peter. He continues Simon Peter to his own consciousness to the very end, however his brethren call him. The struggle between the two elements in his nature makes the undying interest of his story, and brings him nearer to us than any of the other disciples are. We, too, have to wage the conflict between the old nature and the new; for us, too, the worse part seems too often to be the stronger, if not the only part. The Master has often to speak to us, as if His merciful all-seeing eye could discern in us nothing of our better selves which are in truth Himself, and has to question our love. We, too, have often to feel how little those who think best of us know what we are. But let us take heart and remember that from every fall it is possible to rise by penitence and secret converse with Him, and that if only we remember to the end our lingering weakness, and ‘giving all diligence,’ cleave to Him, ‘an entrance shall be ministered unto us abundantly into His everlasting kingdom.’
We may briefly notice, too, some other lessons from this slumbering apostle.
Let us learn, for instance, to distrust our own resolutions. An hour or two at the most had passed since the eager protestation, ‘Though all should deny Thee, yet will not I. I will lay down my life for Thy sake.’ It had been most honestly said, at the dictate of a very loving heart, which in its enthusiasm was over-estimating its own power of resistance, and taking no due account of obstacles. The very utterance of the rash vow made him weaker, for some of his force was expended in making it. The uncalculating, impulsive nature of the man makes him a favourite with all readers, and we sympathise with him, as a true brother, when we hear him blurting out his big words, followed so soon by such a contradiction in deeds. He is the same man all through his story, always ready to push himself into dangers, always full of rash confidence, which passes at once into abject fear when the dangers which he had not thought about appear.
His sleep in the garden, following close on his bold words in the upper chamber, is just like his eager wish to come to Christ on the water, followed by his terror. He desires to be singled out from the others; he desires to be beside his Master, and then as soon as he feels a dash of spray on his cheek, and the heaving of that uneasy floor beneath him, all his confidence collapses and he shrieks to Christ to save him. It is just like his thrusting himself into the high priest’s palace-no safe place, and bad company for him by the coal fire-and then his courage oozing out at his fingers’ ends as soon as a maidservant’s sharp tongue questioned him. It is just like his hearty welcome of the heathen converts at Antioch, and his ready breaking through Jewish restrictions, and then his shrinking back into his old shell again, as soon as ‘certain came down from Jerusalem.’
And in it all, he is one of ourselves. We have to learn to distrust all our own resolutions, and to be chary of our vows. ‘Better is it that thou shouldest not vow, than that thou shouldest vow and not pay.’ So, aware of our own weakness, and the flutterings of our own hearts, let us not mortgage the future, nor lightly say ‘I will’-but rather let us turn our vows into prayers,
‘Nor confidently say,
“I never will deny Thee, Lord”
But, “Grant I never may.’’
Let us note, too, the slight value of even genuine emotion. The very exhaustion following on the strained emotions which these disciples had been experiencing had sent them to sleep. Luke, in his physician-like way, tells us this, when he says that they ‘slept for sorrow.’ We all know how some great emotion which we might have expected would have held our eyes waking, lulls to slumber. Men sleep soundly on the night before their execution. A widow leaves her husband’s deathbed as soon as he has passed away, and sleeps a dreamless sleep for hours. The strong current of emotion sweeps through us, and leaves us dry. Sheer exhaustion and collapse follow its intenser forms. And even in its milder, nothing takes so much out of a man as emotion. Reaction always follows, and people are in some degree unfitted for sober work by it. Peter, for example, was all the less ready for keeping awake, and for bold confession, because of the vehement emotions which had agitated him in the upper chamber. We have, therefore, to be chary, in our religious life, of feeding the flames of mere feeling. An unemotional Christianity is a very poor thing, and most probably a spurious and unreal thing. But a merely emotional Christianity is closely related to practical unholiness, and leads by a very short straight road to windy wordy insincerity and conscious hypocrisy. Emotion which is firmly based upon an intelligent grasp of God’s truth, and which is at once translated into action, is good. But unless these two conditions be rigidly observed, it darkens the understanding and enfeebles the soul.
Lastly, notice how much easier it is to purpose and to do great things than small ones.
I have little doubt that if the Roman soldiers had called on Peter to have made good his boast, and to give up his life to rescue his Master, he would have been ready to do it. We know that he was ready to fight for Him, and in fact did draw a sword and offer resistance. He could die for Him, but he could not keep awake for Him. The great thing he could have done, the little thing he could not do.
Brethren, it is far easier once in a way, by a dead lift, to screw ourselves up to some great crisis which seems worthy of a supreme effort of enthusiasm and sacrifice, than it is to keep on persistently doing the small monotonies of daily duty. Many a soldier will bravely rush to the assault in a storming-party, who would tremble in the trenches. Many a martyr has gone unblenching to the stake for Christ, who had found it far harder to serve Him in common duties. It is easier to die for Him than to watch with Him. So let us listen to His gentle voice, as He speaks to us, not as of old in the pauses of His agony, and His locks wet with the dews of the night, but bending from His throne, and crowned with many crowns: ‘Sleepest them? Watch and pray, lest ye enter into temptation.’
Alexander MacLaren, Expositions of Holy Scripture (1904–1910) — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword module.
C. I. Scofield 1917 · Public Domain On vv36, 38, 41 See note on the meaning of the cup. (See…
cup
See note on the meaning of the cup. (See Scofield "Mat 26:39").
The Scofield Reference Bible (1917 edition), notes by C. I. Scofield — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword module.
Paul E. Kretzmann 1924 · Public Domain On v35 The agony of Christ:
The agony of Christ:
v. 35. And He went forward a little, and fell on the ground, and prayed that, if it were possible, the hour might pass from Him.
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v. 36. And He said, Abba, Father, all things are possible unto Thee; take away this cup from Me; nevertheless, not what I will, but what Thou wilt.
v. 37. And He cometh and findeth them sleeping, and saith unto Peter, Simon, sleepest thou? Couldest not thou watch one hour?
v. 38. Watch ye and pray lest ye enter into temptation. The spirit truly is ready, but the flesh is weak.
v. 39. And again He went away, and prayed, and spake the same words.
v. 40. And when He returned, He found them asleep again, (for their eyes were heavy,) neither wist they what to answer Him.
v. 41. And He cometh the third time and saith unto them, Sleep on now and take your rest; it is enough, the hour is come. Behold, the Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners.
v. 42. Rise up, let us go; lo, he that betrayeth Me is at hand.
It was Christ, the man, the human being, that had uttered the pitiful appeal to the three disciples to aid Him at least by watching and praying with Him. And it was His human nature, aided and sustained, indeed, by His divine nature, that here suffered the wrath of the just God. As wave after wave of anguish swept over Him, threatening to engulf and overwhelm Him, the presence of even these devoted disciples became too much for His weakness. He went on from there a little distance, farther into the darkness and loneliness of the garden. Again and again He fell to the ground; it was a long, desperate struggle. And all the while His soul was battling in prayer with God, the sum and substance of His pleading being that the hour, this hour of terrible anguish, of unspeakable torture, might pass by without touching Him. He prays that this be done, if it be possible. He knows that all things are possible to His Father, but He knows also that there can be no contradiction between God’s justice and His love. The evangelist records a part of His urgent prayer: My Lord and My Father, all things are possible to Thee; let this cup pass by Me, so it may not touch Me! What deep, incomprehensible humiliation on the part of Christ! And yet. there is not the slightest murmuring or opposing the will of God. The just and stern Judge of the sins of the world is still His dear Father, under whose will He places His human will without restriction or reservation: But not what I will, but what Thou. The sentence is short, incomplete, as one would speak under the influence of great emotion. He sacrifices His will for the good of the world, for its redemption. After some time, Jesus returned to His disciples and found them sleeping. They had not been equal to the test which He had proposed to them. Sorrow and dread had so weighted down their eyelids that they could not throw off sleep. It was Peter whom the Lord addressed in a reproachful tone: Simon, sleepest thou? Not even one hour couldest thou watch? The name Simon itself is a rebuke, for it was the name he bore before becoming the disciple of Christ. Loudly, emphatically, and repeatedly he had I protested his ability to bear everything with the Lord, even death; and here he was not even able to watch with and for Him for one short hour! Again Jesus admonishes the disciples to watch I and pray, to be wide awake and to use the weapon of prayer. For the spirit, the new man in them, may be ever so willing and ready to work for Christ, yet the flesh, their old weak nature, is weak and stands in need of assistance in spiritual matters all the time. If only all Christians would remember this admonition in all times of spiritual crises, there would be little need of special efforts and unusual sacrifices after the damage has been done. A second and a third time Jesus left the disciples to return to His place of prayer and to wrestle with God in the fierce struggle because of the sins of mankind. When He returned to the disciples the second time, He found them asleep again, in spite of His earnest warning, and their eyes seemed weighted down with sleep; their answer to His call was given in a dazed manner, and they had no excuse to offer; they were helplessly overcome. In the meantime the struggle was continuing in the soul of the Lord, but He was gaining strength toward its close, He was conquering the fear of death, the pains of hell. When He came back to His disciples for the third time, His words sounded almost crisp: Are you still sleeping and resting nicely? It is enough! If not expressed in so many words, the meaning found by some commentators seems to be contained here: The struggle has been brought to an end, the agony has been conquered. Further suffering is before Me; I am about to be delivered into the hands of the heathen, the sinners. But the prospect holds no terrors for Me, though I know that the traitor is even now on his way and at the gates of the garden. Arise; let us go! The Scripture must be fulfilled amid the final conquest made. Christ is ever the Champion of His believers, He goes before them and leads the way; He also battles for them and overcomes the enemies in their stead. But He does not want them to sit idly by and do nothing. They shall follow in His footsteps, go the way that He has gone, and in His power vanquish the enemies.
Paul E. Kretzmann, Popular Commentary of the Bible (1921–1924) — public domain. Text from a community e-Sword module.
unfoldingWord translationNotes 2017 · CC BY-SA 4.0 On vv35, 37, 40 if it were possible
if it were possible
This means that if God would allow it to happen. AT: "if God would allow it" (See: Assumed Knowledge and Implicit Information)
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the hour might pass
Here "this hour" refers to Jesus' time of suffering, both now in the garden and later. AT: "that he would not have to go through this time of suffering" (See: Assumed Knowledge and Implicit Information)
Abba
a term used by Jewish children to address their father. Since it is followed by "Father," it is best to transliterate this word. (See: Copy or Borrow Words)
Father
This is an important title for God. (See: Translating Son and Father)
Remove this cup from me
Jesus speaks of the suffering that he must endure as if it were a cup. (See: Metonymy)
But not my will, but yours
Jesus is asking God to do what he wants to be done and not what Jesus wants. AT: "But do not do what I want, do what you want" (See: Ellipsis)
translationWords
hour, hours
God the Father
unfoldingWord translationNotes — © Distant Shores Media and the Door43 World Missions Community, licensed CC BY-SA 4.0. Source: git.door43.org/Door43/en_tn.
Tyndale Open Study Notes 2022 · CC BY-SA 4.0 On vv35, 37, 41 14:35-36 Jesus fell to the ground to pray because…
14:35-36 Jesus fell to the ground to pray because of his deep distress (see Gen 17:1-3; Lev 9:24; Num 14:5; 16:4). Since it was normal to pray out loud, Jesus’ prayer was probably overheard by the three disciples, who would not have fallen asleep immediately. • Jesus addressed God as Abba, Father, indicating their close relationship (see Rom 8:15; Gal 4:6). • Please take this cup . . . from me: In faith, Jesus expressed his own feelings and desires to the Father. It was not only the physical agony of crucifixion that terrified him, but also the unique death that he would experience. He who knew no sin would experience the wrath of God against sin (Mark 15:34; 2 Cor 5:21; Gal 3:13). • Yet I want your will to be done, not mine: Jesus’ submission to the Father’s will is a model for his followers.
Tyndale Open Study Notes — © Tyndale Open Resources, licensed CC BY-SA 4.0. Text via the HelloAO Bible API.