Chapter XXV

John in the High Priest's Palace

"And they that had taken Jesus led Him away to the house of Caiaphas the high priest, where the scribes and the elders were gathered together."—Matt. xxvi. 57.

"Simon Peter followed Jesus, and so did another disciple. That disciple ... entered in with Jesus into the court of the high priest; but Peter was standing at the door without. So the other disciple ... went out ... and brought in Peter."—John xviii. 15, 16.

"Everywhere we find these two Apostles, Peter and John, in great harmony together."—Chrysostom.

"Bow down before thy King, My soul! Earth's kings, before Him bow ye down; Before Him monarchs humbly roll,— Height, might, and splendor, throne and crown. He in the mystic Land divine The sceptre wields with valiant hand. In vain dark, evil powers combine,— He, victor, rules the better Land." —Ingleman.—Trans. Hymns of Denmark.

"It is probable that St. John attended Christ through all the weary stages of His double trial—before the ecclesiastical and the civil authorities—and that, after a night thus spent, he accompanied the procession in the forenoon to the place of execution, and witnessed everything that followed."—Stalker.

We know not what became of nine of the disciples fleeing from Gethsemane; whether they first hid among the bushes and olive-trees, and escaped into the country; or took refuge in the neighboring tombs; or stole their way to some secret room where the goodman of the house furnished them protection; or scattered in terror each in his lonely way.

The captive Lord was dragged along the highway where Peter and John had been for a single hour the Heralds of the King. Over the Kidron, up the slope of Moriah, through the gate near the sacred Temple, along the streets of the Holy City, He was led as a robber to the high-priestly palace.

Three Evangelists tell us, "Peter followed afar off." But love soon overcame his fears. He was not long alone. John says, "Simon Peter followed Jesus and so did another disciple." We cannot doubt who was Peter's companion as he turned from his flight. They "went both together," as two days later they ran on another errand. In the shadows of the olive-trees along the roadside, or of the houses of the city, they followed the hurrying band which they overtook by the time it reached the palace gate. John did not "outrun Peter," who was probably the leader. But at the gate they were separated.

We must not think that this palace was like an American house. The entrance to it was through a great arched gateway. This was closed with a large door or gate, in which there was a small entrance called a wicket gate, through which people passed. These gates opened into a broad passage or square court. Around it on three sides the house was built. All rooms upstairs and down looked into it. One large room, forming one side, was separated from it, not by a wall, but by a row of pillars. Being thus opened it was easy to see what was passing in the room or the court.

"That disciple," who accompanied Peter to the gate, "was known unto the high priest and entered in with Jesus into the court of the high priest. But Peter was standing at the door without." John was doubtless familiar with the place and the servants, and went in with the crowd. He kept as near as he could to his Master during the dark hours of His trial, as he was to do during the yet darker hours at the cross.

But the disciple within could not forget the one without. They must not be separated in their common sorrow. Peter too must show by his presence his continued love for his Master. He must have opportunity to show in the palace something of the faithfulness of which he had boasted in the Upper Room, though it had faltered in Gethsemane.

"Then went out that other disciple which was known unto the high priest and spake unto her that kept the door, and brought in Peter." That doorkeeper was not Rhoda—she who with a different spirit joyfully answered Peter's knocking at another door—but was a pert maiden who, sympathizing with the enemies of Jesus, "saith unto Peter, Art thou also one of this man's disciples?" She understood that John was such. Her contempt was aimed at them both. But it was not her question so much as Peter's answer—"I am not"—that startled John. Was it for this denial that he had gained admission for his friend? It would have been better far if Peter had been kept "standing at the door without" though "it was cold," than to be brought into the court of temptation and sin, where he "sat with the servants" in his curiosity "to see the end," warming himself at the fire they had kindled.

Meanwhile we think of John hastening back to the judgment hall, from which he anxiously watched the movements of Peter "walking in the counsel of the ungodly, and standing in the way of sinners, and sitting in the seat of the scornful."

Poor Peter! He fears to look into any man's face, or to have any one look into his. He has obeyed the Master's bidding, "Put up thy sword into the sheath," but Malchus has not forgotten it; nor has his kinsman who saw Peter in the garden with Jesus,—though he may have forgotten the healing of Malchus' ear by his prisoner.

Three Evangelists tell how Peter "sat" with the enemies of Jesus. John tells how at different times he "stood" among them. Thus does he report as an eye-witness, and show his own watchfulness of Peter's restlessness;—of the conflicting emotions of shame and fear, the scornful frown, the enforced and deceiving smile, the defiant look, the vain effort to appear indifferent, and the storm of anger. Amazed at the first denial, shocked at the second, horrified at the third, what were John's feelings when one was "with an oath," and with another "he began to curse and to swear." But concerning this climax of Peter's sin, John is silent. It finds no place in his story.

At last "the Lord turned and looked upon Peter," either from the hall, or as He was being led from it. At the same moment, Peter turned and looked upon Him. We imagine John turning and looking upon them both, marking the grief of the one, and the sense of guilt and shame of the other. But he knew the loving, though erring disciple so well that he need not be told that when "Peter went out" "he wept bitterly." We almost see John himself weeping bitterly over his friend's fall; then comforting him when they met again, with assurances of the Lord's love and forgiveness. John's next record of their being together shows them united in feeling, purpose and action for their Lord.

There was another toward whom John's watchful eyes turned during the long and painful watches of that night. The picture of him is not complete without this Apostle's records.

"Art thou the King of the Jews?" asked Pilate of Jesus. Such John had thought Him to be. For three years he had waited to see Him assume His throne. He has preserved the Lord's answer,—"My kingdom is not of this world." This declaration contained a truth to which even the favored disciple had been partly blind. Was he not ready to ask with Pilate, though with different spirit and purpose, "Art thou a King then?" The Lord's answer must have meant more to the listening Apostle than to the captious and heedless Governor. It was a declaration of the true kingship of the Messiah-King,—"To this end have I been born, and to this end am I come into the world, that I should bear witness unto the truth."

"What is truth?" asked Pilate in a careless manner, not caring for an answer. "What is truth?" was the great question whose answer the Apostle continued to seek, concerning the King and the kingdom of Him whom He had heard say, "I am the Truth."

In that night he saw the Messiah-King crowned, but with thorns. He saw the purple robe upon Him, but it was the cast-off garment of a Roman Governor. A reed, given Him for a sceptre, was snatched from His hand to smite Him on His head. Instead of pouring holy oil of kingly consecration, as upon David's head, His enemies "spit upon Him." It was in mockery that they bowed the knee before Him saying, "Hail King of the Jews."

There are two scenes with which John alone has made us familiar. One is described in these words:—"Then came Jesus forth, wearing the crown of thorns, and the purple robe. And Pilate saith, Behold the man!" Did not that word "Behold," recall to John another scene—that on the Jordan when he looked upon this same Jesus as the Lamb of God, whom His enemies were about to offer unwittingly, when He offered Himself not unwillingly a sacrifice upon the cross? The Baptist's exclamation had been in adoration and joyfulness: Pilate's was in pity and sadness. It was an appeal to humanity, but in vain. There was no pity in that maddened throng. Pilate turned in bitterness toward those whom he hated, but whose evil deeds he did not dare to oppose. So in irony "Pilate ... brought forth Jesus ... and he saith unto the Jews, Behold your King!"

John was the only one who heard the three cries of "Behold"—one at the beginning, the others at the close of the Lord's ministry. How much he had beheld and heard and learned between, concerning "the Lamb," "the Man," and "the King."

The only earthly throne on which John saw Him sit was one of mockery. He did not ask to sit with Him. It was a sad yet blessed privilege to be with Him during that night of agony—the only friendly witness to probably all of His sufferings. While John's eyes were turned often and earnestly toward Peter and Pilate, they were yet more on the Lord. When he went in with Jesus into the palace, and while he tarried with Him, he could do nothing—only look. No angel was there as in Gethsemane to strengthen the Man of sorrows, but did He not often look for sympathy toward that one who had leaned lovingly upon Him a few hours before? Was not John's mere waking presence among His foes in the palace, a solace which slumber had denied Him in the garden? John's eyes were not heavy now. There was no need of the Lord's bidding, "Tarry ye here and watch with Me." Love made him tarry and watch more than "one hour"—even through all the watches of the night. Then he was the Lord's only human friend—the one silent comforter.