John 18.10

“Then Simon Peter, having a sword, drew it and struck the high priest’s slave and cut off his right ear. The slave’s name was Malchus” (John 18.10). Shalom. My name is Malchus. I was mentioned briefly in the story you just heard from the Gospel according to John. Please excuse my language. As you can see, I am not an educated man. I was the slave of the high priest Caiaphas---his personal attendant, his valet. Fr. David invited me here today to tell you about what happened on that Friday when Jesus was arrested, tried, crucified, and died. You see, I was there: I saw it with my own eyes and heard it with my own ears. I never will forget.

JESUS ARRESTED

 I was there when he was arrested. It was Passover time and Jerusalem was buzzing, especially because Jesus of Nazareth was in town. I knew something was up because my master woke me up in the middle of the night to go with him. And not just with him alone, but with a whole detachment of soldiers and temple guards. We marched quickly across the Kidron Valley to a garden on the slopes of the Mount of Olives. We were led by a man who knew the way---Judas, one of Jesus’ followers. He knew right where Jesus would be, and he obviously expected a fight because our soldiers were heavily armed. But when we got to the place, Jesus had only a handful of men with him. And rather than try to fight us or run away, he stepped towards us, calm and unafraid. “Whom do you seek?” he asked us. We may have had the weapons and the numbers, but he had the power, and stopped us in our tracks. Then the little part about me happened. One of Jesus’ disciples drew a sword and went for my master. Well, I wasn’t going to let master get hurt, so I shielded him with my body and took the stroke on my right ear. In a second there was blood running down my neck and the soldiers crowded around. But Jesus was still in command: he told the man (it was Peter) to put away the sword, then turned to me and touched my ear and healed it. At that point all his disciples ran away, and Jesus was arrested. I was there; I saw it.

JESUS TRIED

I was there when he was tried. Of course, you really cannot call what Jesus went through a trial---the charges were made up, the witnesses bought, and the deck was stacked against him from the start. First we took him to the house of my master’s father-in-law, Annas. He had been a high priest many years before, but he still had lots of power because he headed the Saducee party. Annas was like a lawyer on one of your television shows: he really tried to get Jesus to say the wrong thing. But Jesus was so cool: he just answered the questions openly and honestly. Then we took Jesus to my master’s house. More questions. More charges. I could see plainly that Jesus was innocent. Finally, we took him to the Roman governor, Pilate. I tell you, he was a piece of work, a real slime ball. Nobody liked or trusted him. Pilate took Jesus inside to question him---that made my master so mad because it was Passover and we couldn’t go with him. When Pilate finally came outside again, it was clear that he didn’t think Jesus was guilty. But my master and the other leaders just kept after him: “He’s a traitor to Rome! He must die! Crucify him!” I was feeling terrible because I knew this was all a set up. Jesus just stood there and took it, “like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that before its shearers is dumb.” I was there; I saw it.

JESUS CRUCIFIED

I was there when he was crucified. It was not a pretty sight, so I will just give you the bare facts. His hands were nailed to the cross beam, his feet to a post in the ground. Two others were crucified along with him---two hard-bitten terrorists. Above Jesus on a whitewashed board was the crime he was being executed for: “The King of the Jews.” Now my master got upset about this sign, but Pilate was not about to change it. He dug in his heels: “What I have written I have written.” Now there were not a lot of people at Jesus’ crucifixion. I had expected more, especially because of all the people who had cheered him when he came into Jerusalem the Sunday before. The Roman soldiers were there, doing their usual thing at crucifixions: drinking too much, gambling for the clothes of the victims, and cursing anyone who came too close. My master was there, along with his father-in-law and the high priests. Jesus’ mother was there, and a few other women, and just one of his disciples. I could see that Jesus was fading fast. He had been savagely beaten by the soldiers and had lost lots of blood. I heard him ask the one disciple to look after his mother, and then he said to the guards, “I thirst.” Even though the soldiers held a sponge to his lips, I knew the end was near. I was there; I saw it.

JESUS DIED

I was there when he died. He arched his back, raised his head, and said these last words: “It is finished.” At that moment, I just thought these were words of despair: “I give up.” But later I realized that these were words of victory: “Mission accomplished.” You see, Jesus had finished the task God the Father had given him: forgiveness for the sins of the whole world, reconciliation between God and the human race, victory over the powers of evil. I learned this from a man named Paul, but that’s another story. Shortly after his last words, the soldiers took Jesus down from the cross and made sure he was dead by sticking a spear in his side. My master saw that Jesus was really dead, along with the rest of us nearby. Normally, the bodies are left to rot, or for the dogs to get them, but two wealthy men actually came and buried Jesus. I know them well. You can go and ask them about it if you want to know more. If that were the end of Jesus, I wouldn’t be here today. But it wasn’t the end. You all know what happened to him---it’s what we will celebrate in two days, and on every Sunday. As for me, I could not get what I had seen and heard that day out of my mind. When my master died a few years later, I was set free, and I joined the group of Jesus’ followers who had grown in size to thousands. I told anyone who would listen to me what happened on that Friday. I may have been a slave then, but today I am free---free from punishment for my sins, free from the fear of death, and free to love and serve God in a way I never could before. And all because Jesus was arrested, tried, crucified, and died for me and for you. I was there; I saw it. My name is Malchus. Shalom.