And when he had delivered to us the representative mysteries of his precious body and blood, Judas not being present with us, he went out to the Mount of Olives, near the brook Kidron, where there was a garden.

An awful thing is death, and very full of terror, but not to those who have learned the true wisdom that is above . . . who consider death as only a departure to another . . . far better and brighter place that has no end. This is what Christ teaches us when he goes to his passion, not out of constraint or necessity but willingly.

The place was a garden, typifying the paradise of old. For in this place, as it were, all places were recapitulated and our return to humanity’s ancient condition was consummated. For the troubles of humanity began in paradise, while Christ’s suffering, which brought us deliverance from all the evil that happened to us in times past, began in [this] garden.

Matthew proceeds with his narrative . . . as follows: Then Jesus came with them to a place called Gethsemane.^[1] This is mentioned also by Mark.^[2] Luke, too, refers to it, although he does not mention the piece of ground by name. . . . There, we understand, was also the garden that John brings into notice when he gives his narrative.

What John here relates of the Lord entering the garden with his disciples did not take place immediately after Jesus had brought the prayer to a close, of which he says, When Jesus had spoken these words. Rather, certain other incidents were interposed that are passed over by the present Evangelist and found in the others, just as in this one are found many things on which the others are similarly silent in their own narratives. But anyone who desires to know how they all agree together—and the truth that is advanced by one is never contradicted by another—may seek for what he wants, not in these present discourses but in other more elaborate treatises.^[1] But he will master the subject not by standing and listening but rather by sitting down and reading or by giving his closest attention and thought to one who does so. Yet let him believe (before he knows whether he is able also to come to such a knowledge in this life or finds it impossible because of some existing entanglements) that there is nothing written by any one Evangelist, as far as regards those who have been received by the church into canonical authority, that can be contrary to his own or another’s equally veracious narrative.

There the wolf in sheep’s clothing, permitted by the deep counsel of the Master of the flock to go among the sheep, learned in what way to disperse the slender flock and ensnare the Shepherd.

Jesus travels at midnight, and crosses a river and hurries to come to a place known to the traitor, lessening the labor of those who plotted against him and freeing them from all trouble. He also comforts the disciples by showing them that he came to this action willingly when he placed himself in the garden as in a prison.

How did Judas get to the garden, or from where did he get his information when he came? It is evident from this circumstance that Jesus generally passed the night out of doors. For if he had been in the habit of spending time at home, Judas would not have come to that lonely spot but to the house, expecting there to find him asleep. And, in case when you hear a garden you should think that Jesus hid himself, it adds that Judas knew the place. Not only did he know about it, but Jesus often went there with his disciples. For he often spent time with them alone, talking about important matters that it was not permitted for others to hear. And he did this especially in the mountains and gardens, seeking a place free from distraction so that their attention might be fixed on what he had to say.

It was a band not of Jews but of soldiers who were given legal authority by the governor to take the so-called criminal and crush any opposition that might be made.

These men had often at other times sent to seize him but had not been able. And so it is plain that this time Jesus voluntarily surrendered. And how did [the Jewish leaders] persuade the band to accompany Judas? They were soldiers^[1] who had made it their practice to do anything for money.

It may be asked why a great multitude was gathered against him with swords and staves. According to John, this great multitude was a contingent of soldiers and officials sent by the chief priests. Maybe it was because there were so many now that believed in him that so many also assembled against him. They were afraid that a great number of believers would snatch him out of their hands. But I think there was another reason for a multitude being gathered against him. Those who thought that he could cast out demons through Beelzebub^[1] thought he could by some sorcery or magic escape from the midst of those who sought to hold him. And perhaps some of them had heard how once, when he was just about to be cast headlong from the brow of the mountain, he escaped the hands of those who held him—not by ordinary human flight but by one beyond human nature.^[2] . . . There are many even now fighting against Jesus with spiritual swords and staves of evil spirits in the same way as these did. Jesus always gets the better of their plots, although for a time he receives their attacks on him in order that the sins of those who plot against him may be complete and the wickedness of their will against the truth of God’s only-begotten, the Word, may be made known.

Take the cross first, therefore, as an indestructible foundation, and build on it the other articles of the faith. Do not deny the crucified. For if you deny him, you have many to arraign you. Judas the traitor will arraign you first. For he who betrayed him knows that Jesus was condemned to death by the chief priests and elders. The thirty pieces of silver bear witness. Gethsemane bears witness, where the betrayal occurred. I am not even speaking yet of the Mount of Olives on which they were with him at night, praying. The moon in the night bears witness; the day bears witness, and the sun, which was darkened. For it endured not to look on the crime of the conspirators. The fire will arraign you by which Peter stood and warmed himself. If you deny the cross, the eternal fire awaits you. I speak harsh words so that you may not experience harsh pains. Remember the swords that came against him in Gethsemane so that you do not feel the eternal sword.

The crowd that accompanied the traitor when they made their attack on Christ carried lanterns and torches. They would seem to have guarded against stumbling in the dark and accidentally falling into holes, for such accidents often happen in the dark. But, how unfortunate for their blindness! The miserable men, in their extreme ignorance, did not perceive that they were stumbling on the stone concerning which God the Father says, Behold, I lay in Zion a stumbling block and a rock of offense.^[1] They who happened to be afraid of falling into a small hole did not see that they were rushing into the depths of the abyss and the very bowels of the earth. And they who were cautious in the twilight of evening took no account of perpetual and endless night. For those who impiously plotted against the light of God, that is, Christ, were doomed to walk in darkness and the dead of night,^[2] as the prophet says. And not only this, but they were also doomed to vanish away into outer darkness, there to give an account of their impiety against Christ and to be consigned to bitter and endless punishment.

Jesus inquires of those who come to capture him. He asks them whom they have come in search of, not because he did not know (for how could that be?) but that he might prove that those who had come to capture him and were gazing on him were not even able to recognize the very person they were searching for, and thus confirming in us the true conviction that he would never have been taken if he had not of his own will gone to those who sought him. For observe, when he openly asks, Whom do you seek? they did not at once reply, We are here to take you who have just spoken. But rather, they reply, as though he was not present or before their very eyes, saying, Jesus of Nazareth.

Do you see his invincible power, how being in the midst of them he disabled their eyes? For that the darkness was not the cause of their not knowing him, the Evangelist has shown by saying that they also had torches. And even had there been no torches, they ought at least to have known him by his voice. Or if they did not know it, how could Judas be ignorant, who had been so continually with him? For he too stood with them and knew him no more than they, but with them he fell backward. Now Jesus did this to show that not only could they not seize him but that they could not even see him when he was in their midst, unless he himself permitted.

With no other weapon than his own solitary voice uttering the words I am, he knocked down, repelled and rendered helpless that great crowd, even with all their ferocious hatred and terror of arms. For God lay hidden in that human flesh, and eternal day was so obscured in those human limbs that he was looked for with lanterns and torches to be slain in the darkness. I am, he says, and throws the wicked to the ground. What will he do when he comes as judge, who did this when giving himself up to be judged? What will his power be like when he comes to reign, who had this kind of power when he came to die? And now even at the present time Christ is still saying through the Gospel, I am. And . . . the result is the same, as people go backward and fall to the ground because they have abandoned what is heavenly in favor of what is earthly.

They come with their torches, lanterns and weapons. The many seek the one, and the sons of darkness come, bearing in their hands light, through which they would reveal the true Light to others, the true Light that they themselves, blinded, were not able to hold in their heart. . . . Behold, the true Light, who lies hidden here under the cloud of flesh, looks at the darkness, and it fell to the ground. . . . In order that the Light might accomplish what it came for, however, the darkness gets back up. He gives [the darkness] power over himself. Darkness seizes the Light, not to follow but to kill it. The Light permits himself to be seized by darkness, to be led away, to be hung, to be killed, in order that, stripped of the cloud of flesh, he might restore the splendor of his majesty.

They had heard him the first time when he said, I am he. But they did not comprehend what he said. Why then did they go backward and fall unless the one who could do whatever he wanted did not want them to understand at first? But had he never permitted himself to be taken by them, they would not have done indeed what they came to do. However, he also would not have been able to do what he came to do. So now that he had shown his power to them when they wanted to take him and could not, he lets them seize him and thereby makes them unconscious agents of his will.

If you seek me, let these go their way, is like saying, Even though you are looking for me, you should have nothing to do with them. Look, I am giving myself up. And so, even to the last hour he shows his love for his own.

Will any one dare to say that God did not foreknow those to whom he would give faith? Or [would anyone dare to say] that God did not foreknow those whom he would give to his Son—those of whom he should lose none? And certainly, if he foreknew these things, he just as certainly foreknew his own kindnesses with which he condescends to deliver us. This is the predestination of the saints—nothing else. In other words, this is the foreknowledge and the preparation of God’s kindnesses whereby they are most certainly delivered—whoever they are that are delivered.

When Jesus says, I have not lost one, he was not referring to temporal but eternal death here, although the Evangelist also understood him to be talking about temporal death. And one might wonder why they did not seize the disciples with him and cut them to pieces, especially when Peter had roused their anger by what he did to the servant. Who then restrained them? It was no other than that power that cast them backward. And so the Evangelist, to show that it did not happen through their intention but by the power and decree of him whom they had seized, has added, That the saying might be fulfilled which he spoke, ‘Of those which you have given me, I have lost none.’

But were the disciples not going to die later? How then was he going to lose them if they died now, unless it was because they did not believe in him yet in such a way as all do who believe and do not perish?^[1]

But this other point is worth inquiry: Why were they carrying swords? For it is evident that they had them, not only here, but also from replying when asked [if they had swords], here are two.^[1] But why did Christ even allow them to have swords? . . . He did so to assure them that he was to be betrayed. Therefore he says to them, Let him buy a sword,^[2] not that they should arm themselves; far from it. Rather, by this he was indicating that he was being betrayed.

Peter’s violence was lawful according to the Old Testament, but our Lord Jesus Christ, when he came to give us teaching superior to the Law and to reform us to his meekness of heart, rebukes those passions that are in accordance with the Law as being incompatible with the perfect accomplishment of true virtue. For perfect virtue consists not in retaliation of like for like but is rather seen in perfect forbearance.

Peter, therefore, taking courage from his master’s voice and from what had already happened, arms himself against the assailants. And how, someone says, does he who was told not to have money, not to have two coats—how does he come to possess a sword? I think he had prepared it long before because he was afraid this very thing would happen. But you might say, How does he, who was forbidden even to strike a blow with the hand, become a [potential] killer? He certainly had been commanded not to defend himself, but here he did not defend himself but his master. And besides, they were not as yet perfect or complete. But if you want to see Peter endued with heavenly wisdom, you shall after this see him wounded and bearing it meekly, suffering ten thousand dreadful things and not once moved to anger.

He therefore restored the servant’s ear and said to Peter, All they that take the sword shall perish by the sword.^[1] And as he did at the washing of the feet, when he checked his impetuosity by a reproof, he does the same here as well. The Evangelist adds the name of the servant, because what was done was very great, not only because he healed him but because he healed one who had come against him and who shortly after would strike him, and because he prevented the hostility that would probably have been kindled against the disciples by this deed. For this reason the Evangelist has given the name: so that the people of that time might search and inquire diligently as to whether these things had really happened. And not without a cause does he mention the right ear, but as I think desiring to show the impetuosity of the apostle, that he almost beheaded the man. Yet Jesus not only restrains him by a threat but also calms him by other words, saying, The cup that my Father has given me, shall I not drink it?

We think it is an important matter to obtain penalties from those who have wronged us: an important matter, I say. . . . But it is far greater and more godlike to put up with injuries. For the former course of action curbs wickedness, but the latter makes people good, which is much better and more perfect than merely not being wicked. Let us consider that the great pursuit of mercifulness is set before us, and let us forgive the wrongs done to us that we also may obtain forgiveness, and let us by kindness lay up a store of kindness.

Is Jesus suddenly arrested? He reproaches indeed, but follows. And if through zeal you cut off the ear of Malchus with the sword, he will be angry and will restore it. . . . And if you ask for the fire of Sodom on his captors, he will not pour it forth. And if he takes a thief hanging on the cross for his crime, he will bring him into paradise through his goodness.

While Jesus was betrayed, he nonetheless did not approve of the avenging sword of even one disciple. And this is someone who, if he wanted to, had legions of angels who would at one word have presented themselves from the heavens. The patience of the Lord was wounded in [the wound of] Malchus. And so, too, he cursed for the time to come the works of the sword. And, by the restoration of health, made satisfaction to him whom himself had not hurt, through patience, the mother of mercy.

This is the only Evangelist who has given us the very name of this servant, as Luke is the only one who tells us that the Lord touched his ear and healed him.^[1] The interpretation of Malchus is one who is destined to reign. What, then, is signified by the ear that was cut off in the Lord’s behalf and healed by the Lord, but the renewed hearing that has been pruned of its oldness, that it may from that point on be in the newness of the spirit and not in the oldness of the letter?^[2] Who can doubt that he, who had such a thing done for him by Christ, was yet destined to reign with Christ? And his being found a servant pertains also to that oldness that generates bondage, which is Hagar.^[3] But when healing came, liberty was also signified.

But where did the swords come from? They came from the supper and from the table. It was likely also there should be swords because of the lamb and that the disciples, hearing that certain people were coming out against Jesus, took the swords for defense. They meant to fight on behalf of their Master—but this they thought on their own. This is why Peter also is rebuked for using it—and with a severe threat. For he was resisting the servant who came, warmly indeed, yet Peter was not defending himself but his Master. Christ, however, allowed no harm to ensue. For he healed him and demonstrated a great miracle. It was enough to indicate at once both his forbearance and his power and the affection and meekness of his disciple. For then Peter acted from affection, now with dutifulness. For when he heard Put up your sword into its sheath, he immediately obeyed and never does this again [i.e., take up the sword].

Someone may now, perhaps, raise the question and ask himself: Why did Peter carry a sword? We reply that the duty of repelling the assaults of evildoers, according to the Law, brought the need of a sword. For if one of the disciples had chosen to strike the innocent with a sword, how could the same issue have been tried? It is likely, too, that the holy disciples, as they were hurrying at midnight from their place of rest and expected to find woods and gardens in their way, were suspicious of the attacks of wild beasts. Judea had many of these.

Jesus at once speaks to him who had used the sword and cut off the servant’s right ear. He does not, however, say withdraw your sword but return the sword into its place. There is therefore some place for the sword from which it may be taken by one who does not want to perish, especially by the sword. For Jesus wants his disciples to be peaceful so that, laying aside this warlike sword, they may take another peaceful sword that Scripture calls the sword of the Spirit.

The [sword] is not necessary, he says. I must suffer my passion because the Father wants this for the redemption of the whole of the human race. Therefore the words am I not to drink the cup must accurately be read in a declarative sense, that is, it is necessary that I drink it.

Alone, therefore, the Lord drank the cup, for the purification of the people who plotted against him and disbelieved him. The apostles also imitated this so that they might be . . . perfected, suffering for the churches that they founded. So then, also those . . . who tread in the footsteps of the apostles ought to be sinless and, out of love to the Lord, they should also love their brother. In this way, if the occasion calls for it, they may drink the cup, enduring afflictions for the church without stumbling. Those who witness in their life by deed and at the tribunal by word (whether entertaining hope or imagining fear) are better than those who confess salvation by their mouth alone. But if one ascends also to love, he is a really blessed and true martyr who makes a confession perfectly both to the commandments and to God. He demonstrates his love for the Lord, acknowledging him as a brother and giving himself up wholly for God, giving himself up with love and without struggle as one who is asked to return a deposit.

Now, to drink the cup was to discharge the ministry and the whole divine plan of trial with fortitude. It meant to follow and fulfill the Father’s determination and to surmount any apprehension. And the exclamation Why have you forsaken me? fits in with the requests he had previously made. In other words, Why is it that death has been with me all along up until now, but I have not yet borne the cup? This I judge to have been the Savior’s meaning in this concise utterance.

Could fear induce him to pray for the removal of what, in his zeal for the divine plan, he was hurrying to fulfill? To say he shrank from the suffering he desired is not consistent. You allow that he suffered willingly. Would it not be more reverent to confess that you had misunderstood this passage than to rush with blasphemous and headlong folly to the assertion that he prayed to escape suffering, although you allow that he suffered willingly? And yet, I suppose, you will arm yourself also for your godless contention with these words of the Lord, My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?^[1] Perhaps you think that after the disgrace of the cross, the favor of his Father’s help departed from him, and this is why he cried out that he was left alone in his weakness. But if you regard the contempt, the weakness, the cross of Christ as a disgrace, you should remember his words, Truly I say unto you, from now on you shall see the Son of man sitting at the right hand of power and coming with the clouds of heaven.^[2]

It is not to be thought that the Lord Jesus wished to escape the passion and the death, the sacraments of which he had already committed to his disciples’ keeping. This is obvious, seeing that he himself forbids Peter, when he was burning with devoted faith and love, to use the sword. He says, The cup that the Father has given me, shall I not drink it? The Lord also most certainly says, according to John’s Gospel, For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that everyone who believes in him may not perish but have eternal life.^[1] Similarly, the apostle Paul says, Christ loved us and gave himself for us, a victim to God for a sweet-smelling savor.^[2] For the saving of all through the cross of Christ was the common will and the common plan of the Father and the Son. Nor could that by any means be disturbed that before eternal ages had been mercifully determined and unchangeably foreordained. Therefore in assuming true and entire manhood Jesus took the true sensations of the body and the true feelings of the mind. And it does not follow because everything in him was full of sacraments, full of miracles, that therefore he either shed false tears or took food from pretended hunger or feigned slumber. It was in our humility that he was despised, with our grief that he was saddened, with our pain that he was racked on the cross. For his compassion underwent the sufferings of our mortality with the purpose of healing them, and his power encountered them with the purpose of conquering them. And this Isaiah has most plainly prophesied, saying, He carries our sins and is pained for us, and we thought him to be in pain and in stripes and in affliction. But he was wounded for our sins and was stricken for our offenses, and with his stripes we are healed.^[3]

Those Christians who deliver themselves up to persecution forget that the Savior taught us to pray not to enter into temptation. They forget his many retreats from those who sought to plot against him . . . and how when the time of his passion was at hand he did not give himself up but waited until they came upon him with swords and spears.

They took him: someone to whom they had never found access. For he continued [as] the day while they remained as darkness. Neither had they listened to the words Come unto him, and be enlightened.^[1] For if they had approached him in this way, they would have taken him, not with their hands for the purpose of murder but with their hearts for the purpose of a welcome reception. Now, however, when they laid hold of him in this way, their distance from him was vastly increased. And they bound the one who could have freed them. And perhaps there were those among them who then fastened their fetters on Christ, and yet were afterward delivered by him and could say, You have loosed my bonds.^[2]

Now that all obstacles had been overcome and Peter had put away his sword, and Christ had, as it were, surrendered himself to the hand of the Jews (though he did not have to die) and it was easier for him to escape, the soldiers and servants together with their guide give way to cruel rage and are transported with the ardor of victory. They took the Lord, who gave himself up wholly to their will, and put chains upon him, even though he came to us to release us from the bondage of the devil and to loose us from the chains of sin.

In their exultation, they took him to Annas to show what they had done, as if they were bringing home the trophy.

They bring Jesus to Annas, who was the father-in-law of Caiaphas. From this we may conclude that he was the prime mover and planner of the iniquity against Christ. . . . Jesus is, therefore, taken away to him first of all. . . . Having been captured by the malice of Annas and the services of his hirelings and ensnared within the net, Jesus was then led to the one who encompassed and instigated the slaughter of the innocent. This was Caiaphas, and he was adorned with the office of the priesthood. . . . This miserable man committed the most impious act ever committed. For what can be worse than impiety against Christ?

The divine Scripture^[1] says that he completed the entire time of his teaching while Annas and Caiaphas were high priest, showing that the entire time of his teaching was included within the years of their administration. Since he began in the high priesthood of Annas and continued until the reign of Caiaphas, the entire intervening time does not amount to four years. For, since the regulations of the law of that time were already being destroyed, somehow, there was a relaxation of the rule by which the duties of the service of God were for life and by hereditary descent, and different men at different times were entrusted with the high priesthood by the Roman governors and continued in this office for no more than one year.^[2] Josephus relates that four high priests intervened in succession from Annas to Caiaphas, speaking as follows in the same text of the Antiquities: Valerius Gratus^[3] put an end to the priesthood of Annas^[4] and appointed Ishmael^[5] the son of Phabi as high priest, and after a short time he removed this one and named as high priest Eliezer, the son of Annas the high priest. And after a year had passed he removed this one also and passed over the high priesthood to Simon,^[6] the son of Kamithus. But no more than a year passed with him in office when Josephus, known also as Caiaphas,^[7] became his successor.^[8] So, the entire period of our Savior’s teaching is shown to be not even a complete period of four years, since four high priests from Annas to the appointment of Caiaphas fulfilled an annual service over a period of four years. The Gospel, therefore, has rightly indicated Caiaphas as the high priest of the year in which the events of the Savior’s passion were fulfilled, and from this we also can see that the time of Christ’s ministry does not disagree with the foregoing investigation.

The temptation of Peter, which took place during the time that the Lord was enduring these injuries, is not placed by all Evangelists in the same order. Matthew and Mark first narrate the injuries inflicted on the Lord and then this temptation of Peter.^[1] Luke first describes Peter’s temptation, and only after this does he record the reproaches borne by the Lord.^[2] John begins with Peter’s temptation but then introduces some verses that record what the Lord had to bear, appending the statement that the Lord was sent away from Annas to Caiaphas the high priest, and then at this point he resumes and sums up what he had been relating about Peter’s temptation in the house to which Jesus was first conducted. He then gives a full account of that incident and thereafter reverts to the succession of events that happened to the Lord, telling us how Jesus was brought to Caiaphas.^[3]

Who that other disciple is we cannot affirm with confidence because it is left unnoticed here. But it is in this way that John usually refers to himself, with the addition whom Jesus loved.^[1] Perhaps, therefore, it is he also in the present case.

Who is that other disciple? It is the writer himself. And why doesn’t he name himself? When he lay on the bosom of Jesus, he with reason concealed his name. But now why does he do this? He does it for the same reason. Here also he mentions a deed greatly to his credit, that when all had run away, John followed. Therefore John conceals himself and puts Peter before him. He was obliged to mention himself so that you might understand that he narrates more exactly than the rest what took place in the hall since he was there inside. But observe how he detracts from his own praise. For, in case anyone should ask, How, when all had retreated, did this man enter in farther than Simon? he says that he was known to the high priest, so that no one should wonder that he followed, or admire him for his courage.

While the other disciples, it seems, were panic-stricken and fled from the present wrath of the murderers, Peter (who was always moved by a more fervent passion) clings to his love for Christ and follows him at the peril of his own life, as he watched the chain of events unfold. The other disciple accompanying him (and with similar courage) sustained a similar resolution. This was John, the truly pious writer of this divine work. For he calls himself that other disciple without giving himself a definite name. He did not want to seem boastful, and he abhorred the appearance of being better than the rest. For the crowning achievements of virtue, if shown by any of the righteous, are never trumpeted to the world by their own mouth. For it very ill becomes someone to win praise out of his own mouth rather than the conversation of other people.

But the wonder is that Peter, even though he was so afraid, still came even as far as the hall when the others had retreated. His coming this far was caused by love. He did not enter, however, because he was distressed and afraid. For the Evangelist has recorded these things to pave the way for excusing his denial. But with regard to himself, he does not set it down as any great matter that he was known to the high priest. And yet, since he had said that he alone went in with Jesus (in case you might think he was bragging), he also gives the reason why he went in. And that Peter would have also entered, had he been permitted, he shows by what happens next. For when John went out and asked the servant girl who kept the door to bring in Peter, he immediately came in. But why didn’t John bring him in himself? It was because he clung to Christ and followed him. This is why he asked the woman to bring Peter in.

After he had showed his power through these things, our Lord surrendered voluntarily and was bound. First they took him to Annas, who was the father-in-law of Caiaphas the high priest. His disciples Simon Peter and John, who wrote this Gospel, followed him. John, who was known to the high priest, went into the courtyard without fear. Simon . . . stayed alone outside the gate because he lacked the courage to go in alone and knew no one on the inside. John, when he saw that Simon did not get in, went out and told the woman guarding the gate to let him in. Actually, John’s frankness allowed him to be familiar with the high priest.

Forgetful of the fearful waves^[1]

When I was sinking in the waves, I was frightened, and with reason.

Calling out to Thee, I have fallen, through my denial;

But weeping, I cry to Thee:

Another kind of deep water is here on land, the maidservant;

Lord, I shall shed my tears of intercession to you,

And hence I shall cry out to you:

O Good Shepherd, Thou who hast placed His Spirit in the flocks, KONTAKION ^[1]

See how the pillar of greatest strength has at a single breath of air trembled to its foundations. Where now is all that boldness of the one who made promises and who had such overweening confidence in himself beforehand? What now of those words when he said, Why can’t I follow you now? I will lay down my life for your sake.^[1] Is this the way to follow the Master—to deny his own discipleship? Is this the way one lays down his life for the Lord—frightened at a maidservant’s voice that might compel us to the sacrifice? But is it any wonder that God foretold what was true, and human beings presumptuously imagined what was false? Assuredly in this denial of the apostle Peter, which had now entered on its first stage, we ought to take notice that not only is Christ denied by one who says that he is not Christ, but by someone also who, while really a Christian, himself denies that he is so. For the Lord did not say to Peter, You shall deny that you are my disciple but you shall deny me.^[2] He denied him, therefore, when he denied that he was his disciple. And what else did such a form of denial imply but a denial of his own Christianity?^[3] . . . How many afterward, not only old men and women who have had long lives already, but even boys and girls—along with an innumerable company of holy martyrs with brave hearts who by a violent death entered the kingdom of heaven—how many end up doing what at that moment Peter was unable to do who received the keys of that kingdom? It is here we see why it was said, Let these go their way, when Jesus, who has redeemed us by his own blood, gave himself for us. It was so that the saying that he spoke might be fulfilled, Of those whom you have given me, I have lost none. For assuredly, if Peter had gone away after denying the Christ, what else would have awaited him but destruction?

Peter was permitted to be the first to fall, in order that he might be less severe to sinners from the remembrance of his own fall. . . . Peter, the teacher and master of the whole world, sinned, and he obtained pardon in order that judges might from there on out have that rule to go by in dispensing pardon. . . . For this reason I suppose the priesthood was not given to angels. Otherwise, being without sin themselves, they would punish the sins of the people without pity. Rather, man [a human being] is placed over man in order that remembering his own sin, he may be merciful to others who are sinners. SERMON ON ST.

Peter had once almost been lost and taken away from the consecration of the apostolic number by the instigation of the devil through the mouth of the maidservant of the high priest. But when Jesus simply looked on him and turned toward him the lines of his gentle face, he immediately came to himself and, recovering his footing, wept bitterly. Peter, looked on by God in this way, recovered by weeping his place that he had lost by denying.

It was not winter, and yet it was cold, as it often is at the vernal equinox.^[1]

The Evangelist John says, It was cold. If we consider the season, it could not have been cold.^[1] But it was cold where Jesus was not acknowledged, where there was none to see the light, where the consuming fire^[2] was denied. Peter stood beside the brazier, because he felt he was freezing. Evil is the . . . flame [that night]. It burns but does not warm. Evil is the hearth that scatters a soot of error even on the minds of the saints because even the inner eyes of Peter were darkened.

The fire of love was smothered in Peter’s breast, and he was warming himself before the coals of the persecutors, that is, he was warming himself with the love of this present life, which only increased his weakness.

See how clearly this description of the day of our Savior’s passion, a day in which there shall be no light,^[1] was fulfilled, since from the sixth hour to the ninth hour there was darkness over all the earth.^[2] And also the frost and cold,^[3] since according to Luke: They led Jesus to the palace of the high priest. And Peter followed afar off. And while they kindled a fire in the midst of the hall, he sat down,^[4] according to Mark, with the others to warm himself. And John, too, especially mentions the cold, saying, The servants and the ministers stood, having made a fire of coals, for it was cold, and they warmed themselves. And this day, he says, was known to the Lord and was not night. It was not day, because, as has been said already, there shall be no light.^[5] This was fulfilled when from the sixth hour there was darkness over all the earth until the ninth hour.^[6] Nor was it night, because at eventide it shall be light^[7] was added, which also was fulfilled when the day regained its natural light after the ninth hour.