The King in the Kangaroo Court
Introduction: Two Fires, Two Testimonies
In this world, there are two kinds of authority. There is the authority that needs soldiers, secret proceedings, and the cover of night. It is nervous, brittle, and when challenged, it resorts to brute force. It is the authority of Annas and Caiaphas, a corrupt and illegitimate power propped up by political maneuvering. And then there is the authority of the Lord Jesus Christ. It is the authority that stands bound before its accusers and yet remains more free than any man in the room. It is the authority that speaks plainly, in the open, and appeals to the truth. This is not a contest between equals. This is a clash between the kingdom of shadows and the kingdom of light.
John, with masterful and Spirit-inspired skill, sets two scenes for us side by side. Inside the high priest's court, Jesus stands trial, giving a perfect testimony under immense pressure. Outside in the courtyard, Peter, the rock, the disciple who swore he would die for Jesus, stands by a fire and crumbles under the questioning of a servant girl. One man is being judged, yet He is the true Judge. The other man is a mere bystander, yet he is the one who is truly on trial. One fire is a place of interrogation and injustice. The other is a charcoal fire of fear and compromise.
We must see that this is not just a historical report. It is a theological lesson in the nature of true power, true testimony, and the profound weakness of man apart from sovereign grace. Caiaphas had prophesied, with cynical political wisdom, that it was better for one man to die for the people. He had no idea how right he was. God was about to take the wicked, self-serving machinery of a corrupt priesthood and use it as the very instrument of salvation for the world. They thought they were trapping a Galilean prophet; in reality, they were ensnared in the eternal plan of God.
The Text
So the Roman cohort and the commander and the officers of the Jews, arrested Jesus and bound Him, and led Him to Annas first; for he was father-in-law of Caiaphas, who was high priest that year. Now Caiaphas was the one who had advised the Jews that it was better for one man to die on behalf of the people. And Simon Peter was following Jesus, and so was another disciple. Now that disciple was known to the high priest, and entered with Jesus into the court of the high priest, but Peter was standing at the door outside. So the other disciple, who was known to the high priest, went out and spoke to the doorkeeper, and brought Peter in. Then the servant-girl who kept the door said to Peter, "Are you not also one of this man's disciples?" He said, "I am not." Now the slaves and the officers were standing there, having made a charcoal fire, for it was cold and they were warming themselves; and Peter was also with them, standing and warming himself. The high priest then questioned Jesus about His disciples, and about His teaching. Jesus answered him, "I have spoken openly to the world; I always taught in synagogues and in the temple, where all the Jews come together; and I spoke nothing in secret. Why do you question Me? Question those who have heard what I spoke to them; behold, they know what I said." And when He had said this, one of the officers standing nearby gave Jesus a slap, saying, "Is that the way You answer the high priest?" Jesus answered him, "If I have spoken wrongly, bear witness of the wrong; but if rightly, why do you strike Me?" So Annas sent Him bound to Caiaphas the high priest. Now Simon Peter was standing and warming himself. So they said to him, "You are not also one of His disciples, are you?" He denied it, and said, "I am not." One of the slaves of the high priest, being a relative of the one whose ear Peter cut off, said, "Did I not see you in the garden with Him?" Peter then denied it again, and immediately a rooster crowed.
(John 18:12-27 LSB)
The Illegitimate Court (vv. 12-14, 19-24)
The proceedings begin with a flurry of illegality. A whole Roman cohort, along with the temple police, arrests one unarmed man. They bind Him as though He were a dangerous revolutionary and lead Him not to the official court, but to the house of Annas. Annas was the former high priest, deposed by the Romans, but he was the real godfather of this corrupt religious mafia. He was the power behind the throne, and his son-in-law Caiaphas was the current puppet. This was not a legal hearing; it was a pre-trial interrogation at the boss's house in the middle of the night.
The questioning begins, and Jesus immediately exposes the whole affair for the sham that it is. Annas asks Him about His disciples and His teaching, fishing for a charge of sedition or heresy.
"Jesus answered him, 'I have spoken openly to the world; I always taught in synagogues and in the temple, where all the Jews come together; and I spoke nothing in secret. Why do you question Me? Question those who have heard what I spoke to them; behold, they know what I said.'" (John 18:20-21 LSB)
This is not the answer of a cornered man. This is the answer of a king. Jesus is not being evasive; He is appealing to the rule of law, a law which His accusers were trampling underfoot. Jewish law required witnesses. It forbade self-incrimination. Jesus points out that His entire ministry was public. He was the most famous man in Judea. If they wanted testimony, they could call any of the thousands who had heard Him. He was refusing to participate in their illegal star chamber. He was, in effect, putting their corrupt process on trial.
When you have no argument, you resort to violence. An officer standing by slaps Jesus. "Is that the way You answer the high priest?" This is the response of every petty tyrant whose authority is challenged. The slap is an admission of intellectual and moral bankruptcy. And Jesus' response is perfect. He does not lash out. He does not fall silent. He applies the law to the lawless.
"If I have spoken wrongly, bear witness of the wrong; but if rightly, why do you strike Me?" (John 18:23 LSB)
He is demanding that the court follow its own rules. He is the only one in the room concerned with justice. He is bound, but He is in complete command. Annas has nothing, so he sends Jesus, still bound, over to Caiaphas, passing the buck. The whole affair is a cowardly, bureaucratic shuffle, a pathetic display of men who have position but no authority, robes but no righteousness.
The Compromising Fire (vv. 15-18, 25-27)
While the true King is being interrogated inside, His chief disciple is failing outside. Peter and another disciple, probably John, follow Jesus. John, being known to the high priest's household, gets in easily. But Peter is left outside the door. He needs a connection to get in. This is the first sign of trouble. Peter is operating in the flesh, relying on human connections instead of divine power.
He gets in, and where does he go? To a charcoal fire, warming himself among the slaves and officers of the enemy. The night is cold, and the fire offers physical comfort. But it is a spiritually treacherous place. He is seeking warmth from the same fire as those who have just arrested his Lord. This is a picture of worldly compromise. We want to be close enough to Jesus to be considered a disciple, but also close enough to the world's fire to stay warm and comfortable.
The first test comes from a servant-girl at the door. It is not a soldier with a sword, but a girl with a question. "Are you not also one of this man's disciples?" The pressure is minimal, but Peter's courage, so evident in the garden, is gone. He says, "I am not." A flat, simple denial. He has chosen the warmth of the fire over the name of his Master.
Later, standing by the same fire, the question comes again. "You are not also one of His disciples, are you?" Again, the denial: "I am not." The third and final challenge is the most pointed. A relative of Malchus, the man whose ear Peter had rashly cut off just hours before, confronts him. "Did I not see you in the garden with Him?" The consequences of his earlier, fleshly zeal have come back to find him. His bravado with the sword is now the very thing that exposes his cowardice with his words. For the third time, he denies it. And immediately, the rooster crows.
The sound is a divine rebuke, a pre-arranged sign of his spectacular failure. The man who said, "Even if I have to die with you, I will not deny you," has just denied his Lord three times before a collection of servants and guards. Self-confidence, when tested by the enemy, is a house of cards in a hurricane.
The Sovereign Grace in Our Failure
It is crucial that we see these two scenes together. Jesus stands firm so that Peter might be restored. Jesus testifies truthfully so that Peter's lies might be forgiven. Jesus endures the slap of injustice so that Peter, who deserved to be cast out, might be brought back in.
The juxtaposition is a picture of the gospel. We are all Peter. We are bold in our own estimation, but when the pressure comes, we seek the warmth of the world's fire. We deny Him in a thousand small ways, with our words and with our silence. Our best efforts, our most fervent promises, evaporate in the moment of trial. Left to ourselves, we are all deniers.
But the story does not end here. The rooster's crow, which was the sound of Peter's failure, was also the beginning of God's grace in his repentance. And that charcoal fire is not the last one Peter will stand by. John, writing this years later, knows what his readers know. In the final chapter of this gospel, the resurrected Jesus will build another charcoal fire on the shores of Galilee. And by that fire, He will restore Peter, asking him three times not "How could you deny me?" but rather "Do you love me?"
The charcoal fire of our greatest shame and failure becomes the very place of our restoration. This is the gospel. God does not meet us in our strength, but in our utter weakness. The trial of Jesus was a travesty of justice, but it was the mechanism of our salvation. Peter's denial was a catastrophic moral failure, but it became the necessary prelude to his transformation into a humble, grace-dependent apostle.
Caiaphas was right. It was expedient that one man die for the people. That one man was the perfect, faithful witness, the King who stood silently before His accusers. He stood in our place so that we, the faithless, denying Peters, could be forgiven, restored, and commissioned to feed His sheep.