Commentary - Luke 22:47-65

Bird's-eye view

This passage marks the dramatic turning point in the earthly ministry of Jesus Christ. Here, in the darkness of the garden, the battle for the redemption of mankind begins in earnest. The section unfolds in three distinct but interwoven scenes of failure and sovereignty. First, we witness the ultimate act of treacherous hypocrisy in Judas's betrayal, met not with panic but with the calm authority of the Son of Man. Second, we see the blustering, carnal failure of the disciples, epitomized by Peter's sword-swinging followed by his cowardly denials. Third, we observe the beginning of the formal mockery and abuse of Jesus, a fulfillment of all that He had prophesied. Through it all, the central theme is the absolute sovereignty of God. Nothing that happens here is an accident. The betrayal, the arrest, the denials, the beatings, all occur under the divine decree, as Jesus Himself states that this is their "hour and the authority of darkness," a permission slip signed in eternity past for a purpose determined by God alone.

This is the collision of two kingdoms. The kingdom of darkness comes with swords, clubs, and a treacherous kiss. The Kingdom of God stands firm, heals an enemy's ear, rebukes His own disciples for their worldly tactics, and marches willingly to a cross He has ordained. It is a portrait of human weakness and sin at its nadir, set against the backdrop of divine power and grace at its zenith.

Outline

Context In Luke

This passage immediately follows Jesus' agonizing prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane, where He submitted His human will to the divine will of the Father, "not my will, but yours, be done" (Luke 22:42). Having won the crucial battle in prayer, He is now prepared to face the physical outworking of that submission. The scene is the culmination of the escalating conflict with the religious authorities that has been building throughout Luke's Gospel. The Last Supper has just been instituted, establishing the new covenant in His blood. Jesus has warned the disciples of the coming trial, predicting both Satan's sifting and Peter's specific denial. The arrest, therefore, is not a surprise interruption but the divinely orchestrated next step in the plan of salvation, leading directly to the illegal trials, the crucifixion, and the glorious resurrection that will follow.

Key Issues

The Hour of Darkness

It is crucial that we understand what Jesus means when He says, "this hour and the authority of darkness are yours." He is not saying that God has lost control, or that Satan has somehow staged a coup in the garden. Far from it. This is the language of divine permission. God, in His absolute sovereignty, has decreed that the forces of darkness will have their "hour." They are on a leash, and for this brief, appointed time, that leash has been lengthened. They are permitted to carry out their wicked intentions, but only because their wickedness serves God's ultimate, righteous purpose. This is the mystery of providence. God uses the free, sinful choices of men, like Judas, the chief priests, and the Roman soldiers, to accomplish His own predetermined plan of redemption. The darkness does not triumph; it is harnessed. The greatest evil man could ever commit, the murder of the Son of God, is turned by God into the greatest good the world has ever known, the salvation of sinners.

Verse by Verse Commentary

47-48 While He was still speaking, behold, a crowd came, and the one called Judas, one of the twelve, was coming ahead of them, and he approached Jesus to kiss Him. But Jesus said to him, “Judas, are you betraying the Son of Man with a kiss?”

The scene is set with a jarring contrast. Jesus is still speaking words of comfort and warning to His disciples when the forces of hell arrive. And who is leading them? Not a Roman general, but "one of the twelve." The betrayal comes from within the camp. The weapon chosen by Judas is a kiss, the ancient symbol of friendship, affection, and loyalty. This is hypocrisy of the blackest sort. It is an attempt to cloak hatred in the guise of love. Jesus' response is not a shout of anger but a piercing question that exposes the whole sordid affair. "Judas, are you betraying the Son of Man with a kiss?" He calls Judas by his name, a final, personal appeal. He identifies Himself as the "Son of Man," the messianic judge from Daniel s prophecy. And He lays bare the grotesque contradiction of Judas's act. This is a question that should echo in our own hearts. In what ways do we betray the Son of Man with outward signs of affection, singing His praises on Sunday while disobeying Him on Monday?

49-50 And when those around Him saw what was going to happen, they said, “Lord, shall we strike with the sword?” And one of them struck the slave of the high priest and cut off his right ear.

The disciples, seeing the situation unfold, react in a thoroughly carnal way. They see a physical threat, so they reach for a physical solution. Their question, "Lord, shall we strike?" is almost comical. They are asking for permission to start a sword fight with a detachment of temple guards and likely Roman soldiers. Before Jesus can even answer, Peter, ever the impetuous one, takes matters into his own hands. He swings his sword and manages only to slice off the ear of a slave named Malchus. This is a perfect picture of misguided zeal. It is the attempt to defend the kingdom of God with the weapons of the world. It is clumsy, ineffective, and misses the entire point of what is happening. The church is always tempted to pick up the sword of political power, coercion, or worldly anger to fight its battles, and the result is always a bloody mess that accomplishes nothing of eternal value.

51 But Jesus answered and said, “Stop! No more of this.” And He touched his ear and healed him.

Jesus immediately shuts down the disciples' pathetic rebellion. "No more of this." He takes control of the situation, not with violence, but with a word of command and an act of mercy. In the midst of His own betrayal and arrest, His concern is to heal the wound inflicted by His foolish friend upon His enemy. This is the gospel in miniature. While we were yet sinners, Christ intervened. While we were His enemies, He healed us. This miracle is a stunning display of His character. He has the power to summon legions of angels, but instead, He uses His power to restore the ear of a slave. He is not being taken against His will; He is in complete command, and His final act before being bound is one of creative, restorative grace.

52-53 Then Jesus said to the chief priests and officers of the temple and elders who had come against Him, “Have you come out with swords and clubs as against a robber? While I was with you daily in the temple, you did not stretch out your hands against Me, but this hour and the authority of darkness are yours.”

Jesus now turns to the leaders of the mob. He exposes their cowardice and their hypocrisy. They come for Him in the dead of night, armed to the teeth, as if He were a violent revolutionary. "Why the big show?" He asks. "I was in the temple every day, teaching openly. You could have arrested me then." The reason they did not is that they feared the people. Their actions are dictated by fear and executed under the cover of darkness. Then Jesus delivers the key interpretive line for this entire event. This is their hour. This is the moment God has given them, allowing the "authority of darkness" to have its way. This is not a confession of weakness, but a declaration of divine sovereignty. He is not a victim of circumstance; He is the Lamb of God, proceeding according to a divine timetable.

54-57 Now having arrested Him, they led Him away and brought Him to the house of the high priest, but Peter was following at a distance. And after they had kindled a fire in the middle of the courtyard and had sat down together, Peter was sitting among them. And a servant-girl, seeing him as he sat in the firelight and looking intently at him, said, “This man was with Him too.” But he denied it, saying, “Woman, I do not know Him.”

The focus now shifts from the captured Lord to the faltering disciple. Peter follows, but "at a distance." This is the first step toward denial. A distant discipleship is a compromised discipleship. He tries to blend in, warming himself at the enemy's fire. Proximity to the world and distance from Christ is a recipe for disaster. The first test comes from the lowest possible source: a servant girl. Her accusation is direct. Peter's denial is just as direct and absolute: "Woman, I do not know Him." The man who had just wielded a sword in a flash of bravado now crumbles before a simple question from a girl.

58-60 A little later, another saw him and said, “You are one of them too!” But Peter said, “Man, I am not!” And after about an hour had passed, another man began to insist, saying, “Certainly this man was with Him too, for he also is a Galilean.” But Peter said, “Man, I do not know what you are talking about.” Immediately, while he was still speaking, a rooster crowed.

The pressure mounts. A second accusation is met with a second denial. An hour passes, giving Peter plenty of time to reflect and flee, but he stays, trapped by a fatal combination of fear and pride. The third accusation is the most forceful. The man insists, pointing to Peter's Galilean accent as evidence. Peter's third denial is the most vehement: "Man, I do not know what you are talking about." He feigns complete ignorance. And right on cue, as Jesus had predicted, the rooster crows. The sound cuts through the night air, a divine alarm clock signaling the fulfillment of prophecy and the depth of Peter's failure.

61-62 And the Lord turned and looked at Peter. And Peter remembered the word of the Lord, how He had told him, “Before a rooster crows today, you will deny Me three times.” And he went out and cried bitterly.

This is one of the most poignant moments in all of Scripture. Luke is the only gospel writer to record this detail. Through the chaos of the courtyard, Jesus, now a bound prisoner, turns and looks directly at Peter. We are not told what was in that look, but we can surmise. It was not a look of condemnation, but one of sorrowful love and powerful grace. It was a look that said, "I knew, Peter, and I still love you." That look did what the accusations and the rooster's crow could not do on their own. It broke Peter's heart. The memory of Jesus' prediction rushes back, and the full weight of his sin crashes down upon him. He goes out and weeps bitterly. This is not the remorse of Judas that leads to despair and death. This is the godly sorrow of a true believer, a sorrow that leads to repentance and restoration.

63-65 Now the men who were holding Jesus in custody were mocking Him while they beat Him, and they blindfolded Him and were asking Him, saying, “Prophesy, who is the one who hit You?” And they were saying many other things against Him, blaspheming.

The scene shifts back to Jesus. While Peter is weeping in repentance, Jesus is enduring the first stage of His formal humiliation. The guards mock Him, beat Him, and play a cruel game. They blindfold Him, strike Him, and then demand that He use His prophetic power to identify the attacker. The irony is thick enough to cut with a knife. They are mocking the Prophet of God, all the while unknowingly fulfilling the prophecies about the suffering Messiah (Isaiah 50:6). They demand a parlor trick from the one who is the very Word of God. Their blasphemous taunts are just a preview of the abuse that is to come, and He endures it all with the silent strength He had just won in the garden.

Application

This passage holds up a mirror to our own hearts, and the reflection is not flattering. We are all there in that courtyard. We are in Judas, betraying the Lord with pious gestures that mask a disobedient heart. We are in Peter, full of bluster and self confidence one minute, and crumbling into cowardly denial the next. We are quick to fight for Jesus with the world's clumsy weapons, and slow to simply trust and obey. We follow at a distance, hoping to keep one foot in the kingdom and one foot warming itself at the world's fire.

But if we see ourselves in the failures of the disciples, we must also see our only hope in the steadfastness of their Master. Our salvation rests not on the strength of our loyalty, but on the strength of His. When we fail, He does not. When we deny Him, He looks at us not with contempt, but with a grace that calls us back to repentance. The look that broke Peter's heart is the same look that can break ours. The gospel is not a call for us to be strong enough not to deny Christ. The gospel is the good news that even when we do deny Him, as we all do in countless ways, His grip on us is secure. His suffering, which begins here with a traitor's kiss and a guard's fist, was for traitors and cowards like us. Peter's bitter tears were the gateway to his restoration and future usefulness. May God grant us the same grace to see our sin for what it is, to be broken by the look of our loving, suffering Savior, and to weep the kind of tears that wash the soul clean.