Matthew 26:36-46

CRITICAL NOTES

Matthew 26:36. Gethsemane = “the oil press.”—On the slope of the Mount of Olives. Probably there was, or had been, in it a press for the manufacture of olive oil. The identity of this garden with the traditional spot is disputed.

Matthew 26:45. Sleep on now.… Rise, let us be going.—The sudden transition may be explained either

(1) by regarding the first words as intended for a rebuke, or else
(2) at that very moment Judas appeared, and the time for action had come. The short, quick sentences, especially as reported by St. Mark, favour the second suggestion (Carr).

MAIN HOMILETICS OF THE PARAGRAPH.— Matthew 26:36

De profoundis.—One chief characteristic of this part of the story of Jesus is its unapproachable grief. The disciples see this in the demeanour of the Saviour. He is “sorrowful and very heavy” (Matthew 26:37). The Saviour confesses it of Himself (Matthew 26:38). We hear it in the character of the prayer He puts up. He asks, “if possible” (Matthew 26:39), to be heard. Also, in the urgency with which He presents it, viz., three times (Matthew 26:44), in the same words, in succession. Evidently, something which is the profoundest of horrors possesses His soul. Another account, indeed (Luke 22:44), describes Him as being convulsed by its depth. We shall do well to contemplate, this being so, first, the mysteriousness, and, secondly, the instructiveness, of this astonishing grief.

I. Its mysteriousness.—This is to be found, to begin, by inquiring into its special occasion and cause. To what, in reality, was this fearful dread to be traced? What was this evil, the mere anticipation of which had such almost deadly effect? It could hardly have been that very ordinary evil which we commonly speak of as “death.” Thousands of men far inferior on any showing to Jesus of Nazareth, have met this with composure, some even with joy. Neither could it have been merely the ignominious manner and extreme shame of the kind of death which the Saviour knew to be awaiting Him so shortly. That were to make Him inferior to the two malefactors who afterwards died by His side; one of whom, at any rate, was above complaining of the undoubted disgrace of his cross (Luke 23:41). Evidently, what Christ had in view was something deeper by far—something which appears to have been fully known only to God and Himself. Spare Me “this cup”—this cup, with which no other “cup” is fit to compare. Who amongst men shall say what that was? Just as mysterious, next, is the consideration of the Person to whom this cup was delivered. We read of Him, e.g., as one who, in the very highest sense, could address God as His “Father” (Matthew 26:39; Matthew 26:42). Also, as one whom God Himself had acknowledged in the same sense, not long before, as His Son; and as the Son, moreover, as well of His love, as of His fullest approval and trust (Matthew 27:5). Further, we find Him now, in His capacity of a Son, showing the perfection of love to His friends. It was not much that He asked of His disciples at this crucial hour of His life—little more, in fact, than some token of sympathy in the extremity of His anguish (Matthew 26:38). When this little was refused Him, as we find that it was; when, instead of watching with Him, they are found buried in sleep; how tenderly considerate, yet how anxiously merciful, is the excuse which He makes—which He, the injured one, makes (Matthew 26:40). Further, yet, we find Him, now, in the same capacity, showing the like perfectness towards God. What entire confidence—what profound submission—what burning loyalty—what utter devotion—we find here in His words (Matthew 26:39)! Never, in fact, do we see all His excellences brighter than they are seen to be at this time. Here is the mystery presented to us by this side of the case! Never such a brother—never such a Son—as when about to be treated as neither! Nor less mysterious, once more, is the consideration of the Hand which inflicted this on Him. Whom does the Saviour appeal to on the subject? From whose “will” does He ask for the favour of exemption (Matthew 26:39)? Is it not from the will of that “Father” of whom He afterwards said, “The cup which My Father hath given Me, shall I not drink it?” Here is, therefore, on the whole, the sum of the mystery involved in this case. It is wonderful that there should ever have been an occasion for a prayer of this kind! Wonderful that such a Son should ever find Himself in such case! Wonderful that He Himself should have been willing to be in that case! Wonderful that such a Father should have ever put Him in that case! More wonderful still that He should have finally left Him in it in reply to that prayer—that thrice-repeated entreaty—that urgent entreaty—that agonised entreaty—of the Son of His love! Never was there anything, to our eyes, of a more mysterious kind! The whole story, in fact, is full of absolute bewilderment to our natural thoughts.

II. Its instructiveness, all the same.—How it teaches us, e.g., on this very account, to accept the darkness which marks it. Why should we expect things, in such a matter, to be of a different kind? Why should we ever have supposed, in such an arena, that there should have been nothing obscure to our eyes? The very nature of that arena, on the one hand, peremptorily forbids such a thought. How should any inquiry be all light to us which turns, as this does, on the nature of God? On the relations existing between those Three who are One? And on the doings of the Man who represents our race at the most critical period alike of His life and our age? The nature of our “eyes,” on the other hand, forbids it no less—one might almost say even more. We have neither the faculties nor the experience for measuring things of this kind. It is doubtful, indeed, whether any created intelligence of any kind can understand them in full (see 1 Peter 1, end of Matthew 26:12). It is certain that our intelligence can only discern them in part. Hardly even a microscope turned on the sun is less competent for its task. It is our wisdom, therefore, it is even the best use of our powers, to see in the obscurity of what we look upon one proof of its truth. On the other hand, in such a matter, we are taught here equally to embrace the light that there is. The light that shines out on us, for example, from the very obscurity of the words which our Saviour addresses here to His Father. With all that is dark in them, is it not clear from them that He had some purpose in view when He spake them? Something of transcendent importance, both in God’s eyes and His own? Something that somehow could not be accomplished unless He accepted that cup? Something of such a nature that if He had been spared from it, God could not have spared us? Something, this being so, which God would not take away—and which He did not refuse—on that very account? All this, with all the concomitant darkness, is as clear as the sun. And all this, therefore, is to be embraced by us with all wonder and praise. Jesus thereby shown to be a Saviour—and God a Father—indeed! Beautifully confirmatory of this is what we read last in this place. What a contrast there is between our Saviour’s words in Matthew 26:38, and those in Matthew 26:45! What a ring of fortitude—of tranquil intrepidity—there is in these last! Now He faces, now He goes to meet, what He could hardly think of previously. Clearly, His Father has answered His prayer (cf. Luke 22:43; Hebrews 5:7), though in a way of His own. Clearly, therefore, the will of both is the same. Clearly, also, that will is nothing less than the salvation of man. With that object in view; that “cup” was prepared—was given—was not taken away—was accepted—was put to the lip. With that in view He who thus took it received strength for it from above. Here is the final “light” out of this “darkness.” Is it anything less than “the Light of the world”?

HOMILIES ON THE VERSES

Matthew 26:36. The human Christ in Gethsemane.—

I. Like us, He sought sympathy in the time of sorrow.
II. Like us, He gave expression to His grief when, only few could hear.

III. Like us, in trouble and darkness He wished His friends to keep awake.

IV. Like us, He dreaded calumny more than death.—What was the cup? Not death, but the death of a criminal.—Evan Lewis, B.A.

Matthew 26:36. Christ in Gethsemane.—

1. As the truth of the gospel, so the right way of suffering for the truth, must be learned from Christ; therefore our Lord taketh with Him His disciples unto Gethsemane—a garden and place where He is to begin His last sufferings—that they might see how voluntarily and holily He addressed Himself unto that service.
2. As we should not make ostentation of going to private prayer, so neither need we scrupulously conceal our purpose when it may edify.—David Dickson.

The conflict in Gethsemane.—

I. The place of the conflict.—There are two rival Gethsemanes, and rival guides wrangle about the truth of this and that local identification. One place, called the true Gethsemane, is walled round by the Latins. Another, a little more to the north, is walled round by the Greeks; both enclosures being under lock and key. The New Testament lends no help to inquiries that have reference to sanctity of places.

II. The story of the conflict.—

1. Its intensity is the first fact in the story that strikes us.

2. This awful inward conflict was in a scene of outward peace.

3. The conflict wrung from the Saviour a great cry: “O, My Father,” etc. We have a glimpse here of the conflict carried on by Christ for us, single-handed.

4. Under all the sorrows of the Man of sorrows, in this night of conflict, there was tender personal thought about His disciples.

III. The sleep of the disciples.—There was tender remonstrance, but not severe reproof. It was treated by Jesus only as a symptom of mortality. This quick apology of love for weakness is set on record for all who need it.—C. Stanford, D.D.

Matthew 26:38. Intensified sorrow.—Christ’s sufferings were intensified by various reasons:—

I. From His perfect foreknowledge of all the complication and bitterness of His agonies.—“Knowing all things that should come upon Him.”

II. From the length of time within which they were compassed.—We might speak of His whole life as a scene of suffering; but His last sufferings were crowded and pressed together in an extraordinary degree. It will be found that a space of nearly twenty-four hours was occupied with His death.

III. From His deep sense of the evil of sin which occasioned those sufferings.—Tertius.

Matthew 26:39. Our Lord’s Gethsemane-prayer.—Three elements are distinguishable in our Lord’s prayer:—

I. The sense of sonship, which underlies all, and was never more clear than at that awful moment.

II. The recoil from the cup, which natural instinct could not but feel, though sinlessly. The flesh shrank from the cross, which else had been no suffering; and if no suffering, then had been no atonement. His manhood would not have been like ours, nor His sorrows our pattern, if He had not thus drawn back, in His sensitive humanity, from the awful prospect now so near. But natural instinct is one thing, and the controlling will another. However currents may have tossed the vessel, the firm hand at the helm never suffered them to change her course. The will, which in this prayer He seems so strangely to separate from the Father’s, even in the act of submission, was the will which wishes, not that which resolves. His fixed purpose to die for the world’s sin never wavered. The shrinking does not reach the point of absolutely and unconditionally asking that the cup might pass. Even in the act of uttering the wish it is limited by that “if it be possible,” which can only mean: possible, in view of the great purpose for which He came. That is to be accomplished, at any cost; and unless it can be accomplished, though the cup be withdrawn, He does not even wish, much less will, that it should be withdrawn. So the third element in the prayer is:—

III. The utter resignation to the Father’s will, in which submission He found peace, as we do.—A. Maclaren, D.D.

Jesus in Gethsemane.—

1. The struggle in Gethsemane was the completion of that in the wilderness, and prepared the way for the suffering of Golgotha.—The devil uses two ways of turning men from the path of righteousness: he offers them pleasures such as God does not approve, and urges them to avoid the hardships to which God calls them. By these same two means he tried to force the Lord Jesus also to deviate from the line of obedience, from fidelity to His mission. It is true, Satan is not mentioned in the Gospel narratives when this scene is related. But it was of this very moment that Luke was thinking when he finished the narration of the temptation in the wilderness by these words: “The devil departed from Him for a season” (Luke 4:13), or, more exactly, “until a favourable time.” Jesus Himself, when He saw this moment approaching, expressed Himself thus: “The prince of this world cometh” (John 14:30).

2. After a man has overcome the attractions of pleasure, it only remains to him to rise above the instinctive fear of pain in order that he may be faithful unto the end.

3. Jesus, in His prayer, puts His will and that of the Father over against each other: “Not My will, but Thine, be done.” How can that be? Had He a different will from that of God? Jesus took our nature when He entered into human life. He consequently possessed all our legitimate instincts, particularly that of the fear of suffering. It was this fear above which it was now His concern to rise by sacrificing it to His mission, as He had given up the desire for enjoyments when in the wilderness. By the third act of wrestling and prayer He subordinates the voice of nature to the voice of the Spirit unreservedly.

4. This is not, as is often believed, the beginning of the atonement; it is only the condition of the atonement. In fact, the atonement does consist not only in a certain amount of suffering to be endured. It consists in the suffering humbly accepted and righteously endured.

5. Victory should properly precede combat.—Jesus had already conquered when the time of suffering came. It is properly at Gethsemane that these words in the priestly prayer were accomplished: “And for their sakes I sanctify myself” (John 17:19).—Prof. F. Godet, D.D.

Matthew 26:41. Temptation.—In the precept, “Watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation,” there is enjoined a feeling of apprehension and alarm. It is equivalent to saying, “Do not suffer yourself to be at ease.” Beware of quietly enjoying your life. You are lost if you live without fear. As to moral and spiritual dangers, the greater number seem to have determined to indulge in a careless and almost unlimited confidence. As a natural consequence, they are overrun and spoiled and ruined by what they so little dread and guard against—that is to say, by temptations. “That ye enter not into temptation.” The words seem to say very pointedly:—

I. Beware of the beginning.—And since temptation is sure to be early with its beginnings, so, too, should watching and praying: early in life; early in the day; early in every undertaking.

II. Be quickly alarmed at the indications that a thing is becoming temptation. “Here a questionable effect is beginning upon me; nay, it is a bad effect. Certain principles of truth and duty are beginning to slacken their hold on me.” Be cautious of pursuing an evident good in a way in which there must be temptation. Beware of the kind of companionship that directly leads into temptation.—John Foster.

Preservatives from sin.—

1. The advice given.—“Watch and pray.” The Christian in danger:—

1. From the world.—Its spirit, frowns, smiles.

2. From the devil.—As a person, his influence, subtilty, etc.

3. From the flesh.—The deification or degradation of reason; indulging in passion, constitutional sin, etc.

II. The reason on which the advice is founded.—“That ye enter not,” etc.

1. It is possible to be overcome.—David, Peter, etc.

2. To be overcome deprives of spiritual enjoyment.

3. Endangers spiritual interests.

4. Not watchfulness alone, or prayer alone, but both conjoined, render the soul invulnerable.—J. C. Gray.

The spirit willing, the flesh weak.—We ought to take this, not as an excuse for torpor, but as an incentive to watchfulness.—Bengel.

Matthew 26:45. Too late.—In these words our Lord means, “It is too late. The opportunity is lost and gone. The time for watching and praying is over; you have let it escape you. You may as well sleep now. Alas! there is now nothing to be done; you must now enter, as you may, into temptation.” If this be the true account of the words as first spoken, we shall readily think of ways in which they come home to us.

I. They have a direct bearing upon the whole subject of temptation.—This is the time for watching and praying—before the temptation comes. Mark that well. It is the moral of the whole. Remember there is a prayer which comes too late; there is a prayer which even contradicts itself in the asking; there is a prayer which asks to be kept safe under the temptation which we are going in quest of.

II. The words have a meaning also as respects opportunity.—There is not a relation in which we stand one to another, which may not be taken as a selfishness and refused as an opportunity. One by one, these are withdrawn. He who once said, “Watch and pray,” says at last, “Sleep on now, and take your rest.”

III. This saying is not less true in its bearing upon that total sum of all opportunities which is the life.—When Christ at last comes, and finds us still sleeping; then He is compelled to say—else He could be trifled with, else He were not the Judge, He were not the Faithful One and the True—He is compelled to say, “Sleep on now, and take your rest.” “The harvest is past” etc.—C. J. Vaughan, D.D.