“The Sword in the Garden”
Original sermon given February 28, 2024, written and delivered by Pastor Jeffrey Leininger at First Saint Paul’s Lutheran Church.
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“The Sword in the Garden”
John 18.1-11
John 18.1-11
In the name of the Living God and his crucified Christ. Amen.
Nobly brave or rashly stupid. There’s a fine line, isn’t there?
To quote Sherlock Holmes’ mysterious brother Mycroft in the BBC’s Sherlock: “Bravery by far is the kindest word for stupidity, don’t you think?” (I’ll spare you the posh British accent, tonight.)
I don’t quite know what to do with Simon Peter in the Garden as described in John 18. Do you? The “guy” in me—and protective husband and father and brother and friend—finds his sword play inspiring. Indeed, as a boy I considered this the coolest part of the Passion account as I would listen to it, half asleep on Good Friday. I could see myself there, crossing under the shadows of the Kedron valley, concealing a sword, defending a friend, risking my life for my Lord.
Peter’s certainly “all-in” at this point. Perhaps he’s even emboldened by Christ’s declaration: “I AM” he. Christ here utters the divine name, Yahweh, in response to those looking for “Jesus of Nazareth”. “I AM” and the Roman cohort, the temple guards, the chief priests, even Judas himself all fall back and fall over at his words.
“With that kind of power in the Name and with the courageous hearts of loyal followers, who knows what victories they could win?” Peter might think. Perhaps it all starts right there, drawing the sword in the Garden and then storming into High Priest’s courtyard and then onto Pontius Pilate’s precincts and then… who knows, maybe onto Rome itself.
That’s the brave part. But then there’s the “stupidity part.” What are you even thinking, Peter? His “sword”, well, it might be better translated as “dagger.” Indeed, some commentators assert it was not much more than a kitchen knife. In any case, did he really think that there, in the Garden, he could get past the elite Jewish Temple guards and a Roman cohort trained and experienced and prepared to specifically to quell a Jewish rebellion? Then fight his way up 200 feet to the top of Jerusalem to lead a rebellion. It would take four Roman Legions five months to conquer Jerusalem in 70 AD, and Peter’s going to do with, like, 11 guys, a dagger, no armor, and at most one comrade with any kind of military experience at all. What are you even thinking, Peter?
Our world is sadly regulated to either one of these two options, as we consider the “Sword in the Garden”: incredibly brave; incredibly stupid. One perspective says, “Fight to the death, die for a noble cause, and be written about in songs and sagas.” The other, “Preserve your life as long as possible, get as much out of it for yourself as you can, because what’s the point of it all, anyway? We came from nothing, and we’re going to nothing. Might as well try to make something out of nothing, in the little time we have. Don’t be stupid, Peter.”
In a way, we might call this “the world’s dichotomy” or even worse (but with better alliteration) “the devil’s dichotomy.” Because when the Lord’s plan is not at the center of the story running things, those are really the only two options you’ve got left. Die nobly, and that’s it; save yourself for as long as you can, and that’s it.
But Jesus reveals here a third way for us. It is the way of the cross. The way of hope through the darkness. The way of a larger, beautiful, powerful divine plan unfolding even when we can’t see past our own current dilemmas.
The scriptures make it clear that the Lord Jesus was in charge, even there in the garden—even through Judas’ betrayal, the Pharisees hypocrisy, the chief priests’ need for self-preservation, the Romans’ desire for peace at all costs (and I do mean all costs); even through the disciples’ fears, and Malchus’ severed ear. Christ is in control. He's the one asking the questions in John 18: “Whom do you seek?” Nothing that is happening is going to thwart the great plan unfolding for the salvation of the world.
The real problem with Peter’s attempt to take up the Sword—whether we regard it as nobly brave or rashly stupid—the real problem is that at its core it was not trusting Jesus—Jesus’ words, his work, his greater plan.
Though he’s been told, Peter either can’t or won’t believe that there’s a third way through this—the way of the cross and of ultimate forgiveness and final resurrection. He’s got to fight through it because, like so many of us, there’s only one of two options forward: fight or flight. He chooses the nobler one, but it wasn’t the divine one.
It’s a rebuke to us, whenever we find ourselves in crisis point like Peter in the Garden. When we don’t listen to Christ’s word or see his work of salvation or trust his plan, we’ll always end up either grabbing the sword or fleeing the scene; lashing out or collapsing in; fighting with everything that is in us or running as quickly and as far away as possible. There is another way through though. The way of the cross. The way of trust. The way of hope through the darkness. Just stick with Jesus: his word, his work, his ultimate plan, and he’ll get you where you need to be in the end.
We heard on Sunday, “It was for this very reason that Christ came to earth: to be betrayed into the hands of sinful men, be crucified, and on the third day be raised again.” This message is for you and me—for all the mistakes you’ve made in rashly reaching out in violence or closing off in silent resentment; for all the dark valleys you’ve had to walk through; for all the unfair opposition or betrayals or the swords you’ve drawn or even the wounds you’ve suffered. The Lord went to the cross for us, suffered for us, rose again on the third day.
Follow the way of the cross: put away the sword, trust that there’s another way, a divine way, a way that won’t end when we take our last breath. It is the way of divine love and ultimate divine purpose. And it is for you, tonight.