“It’s a Miracle: Malchus’ Ear”
Luke 22:49-51
Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus.
In February of 1888, thirty-five year-old Vincent Van Gogh had a dream of starting an artists’ colony on the south of France. After all, he loved the light, the landscape and the people that lived there. It would be the perfect place to paint, he felt. So he rented a house, set up a studio and began to paint.
The next step was to find another artist who would agree to live with him to paint. That’s when he met fellow artist Paul Gauguin.
At first, the two men got along just fine. They ate together, drank together, and painted together morning, noon and night. In that little yellow house on the south side of France, they were together most all of the time. In fact, they sometimes even painted the same subject together, side by side, showing how two painters could paint the very same scene in two very different ways.
But things didn’t stay happy for long. Van Gogh was a talented artist and a remarkably gifted artist, but he often suffered from mood swings and deep bouts of depression. Add to that a growing difference in style, and their situation soon became stressful and, at times, intolerable. The two painters did not get along. By December, barely two months after they moved in together, Gauguin wrote to a friend, “I’m staying for now, but I’m ready to leave at any moment.”
Then, when Gauguin finally decided to leave, Van Gogh was devastated. He ran after him holding a razor, then suddenly stopped and returned home.
What happened next is anyone’s guess. For as police were called to the house at 10:00 that night, they found blood-soaked rags in the studio and, leading upstairs, bloody handprints on the wall. And at the top of those stairs they found Vincent Van Gogh, lying in bed, minus one ear.
Was it an accident? Was it on purpose? We may never know, for neither Gauguin nor Van Gogh would ever say.
But whatever happened there that day, if you were to visit the Tate Gallery in London, England, you could see Van Gogh’s self-portrait hanging on the wall, smoking a pipe, wearing a bandage on his ear.
The Bible introduces us to a wide variety of individuals, some of whom we know quite well, some not well at all. David was a shepherd, a slayer of giants and a writer of psalms. Samson tied fox tails together and killed a lion with his bare hands. Paul persecuted the church and Peter, at least for a moment or two, walked on water.
But among those of whom we know so very little is a man, a servant, a slave named Malchus. Though his story is told some four different times, by all four gospel writers--Matthew, Mark, Luke and John--his name is only mentioned once.
Listen to the words of Luke chapter 22: “While Jesus was still speaking, there came a crowd, and the man called Judas, one of the twelve, was leading them. He drew near to Jesus to kiss Him, but Jesus said to Him, ‘Judas, would you betray the Son of Man with a kiss?’ And when those who were around Him saw what would follow, they said, ‘Lord, shall we strike with the sword?’ And one of them struck the servant of the high priest and cut off his right ear.”
Just months before, Caiaphas, the high priest, said to his servant Malchus, “I need you to be my ear, boy. Now go! Tell me what you can about this Jesus, the Nazarene.”
Malchus hadn’t been a “boy” for years, but he was certainly in no position to disagree. Besides, he took pride in being the servant of the most powerful Jew in all of Israel. When he ventured into town, far from the temple courts, people who knew him treated him with respect. “Glad you’re here, Malchus. Is there any way we can help you, Malchus?”
And the asset for which he was known the best were his ears. After all, Caiaphas, his master, was quite a public figure. He had a lot of friends, but almost as many enemies. Say the wrong thing at the wrong time and Malchus would likely hear.
So there he stood, in the back of the crowd, hiding behind a pillar in Solomon’s colonnade.
“I am the way, the truth and the life,” Jesus said. “No one comes to the Father, except by Me.”
“What arrogance!” Malchus thought. He would certainly report that back to his master.
“Come to Me, all you who are weak and heavily burdened,” Jesus continued, “and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me. For I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.”
“How strange!” thought Malchus. How did arrogance fit with gentleness and humility? He saw pride and superiority up close every day. So what was this?
“You know that those who are regarded as rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their high officials exercise authority over them. Not so with you,” Jesus said. “Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first, must be slave of all. For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many.”
“Stranger still,” thought Malchus. Rulers flexed muscles. They demanded obedience. How different this Man was from his master Caiaphas!
Still, a job was a job and an order was an order. He would do as he was told.
Then came that night in the garden, the garden of Gethsemane. Word had it that Jesus would spend the night there with His disciples, to rest. What better time and what better place to arrest and capture Him! At least that’s what Judas said.
So off he went with that band of soldiers to be sure that it was done. It was dark and thousands of religious pilgrims were under foot, no time to take chances, to make a foolish mistake.
And sure enough, within moments, they had Him right where they wanted Him, as Judas leaned forward to kiss Him.
After that, everything was a blur. Confusion, panic, horror, anger, fear. A scuffle, a cry and then blood. One of them, Peter, had drawn his sword, and lopped off his ear. Blood streamed down his neck, drenching his cloak, spurting from where his ear had once been. He wobbled backwards as blackness engulfed him.
Then came the voice that commanded angels, healed lepers and made blind men see. “It is enough,” He said. “Put your sword away! For everyone who draws the sword will die by the sword.”
Then, wonder of wonders, in the panic, the confusion, and the darkness, Jesus did the unthinkable, the unimaginable. He stooped down and picked up his ear. The blade had sliced it clean off.
Then suddenly, warmth. The pain stopped and flickering torch lights reappeared, as Jesus knelt before him, covering his wound.
“You’ll be alright, now,” He said, “for I have come to save and to heal.”
Here was a heart that bore no hatred, that wanted nothing but that every man, woman and child, and even those who hated Him and came to arrest Him, be made well. And in that moment, Malchus knew he would never forget those eyes or that voice for as long as he lived.
Today, we can’t help but ask, why. Why did Jesus, even in the darkness and terror of Gethsemane, take time to heal?
After all, you might say, Malchus was only a slave and it was only his ear. The wound would heal. The man would live.
Even more, think about it. If Jesus were to perform one last miracle before His suffering and death, what should it be?
Maybe He should go to Jerusalem to the temple mount and command the temple to be lifted high into the air. Thousands would fall at His feet.
Or maybe He should go to Bethany to the graveyard where Lazarus once lay. And He could shout out all their names and raise up all the dead.
Or He could command the four winds to blow from the north, the south, the east and west, and clouds to appear and disappear.
But Jesus didn’t come to awe and impress. He came to give His life as a ransom for sinners.
So there, even in Gethsemane, on His way to the cross, He would stoop to show, even to an astonished slave, the depths of His compassion. And all would see the love of God.
No one else in all the world could speak and the wind and the waves would obey Him. No one else could multiply five loaves and two fish to feed thousands and send them away full. No one else could call the dead from their graves. And no one else could take a severed ear and make it whole again in Gethsemane. No one else, but Jesus.
Before we leave this text, there is one more thing to ask. What would have happened if Peter would have had his way?
His intentions were good. He loved Jesus and would do anything to defend Him. He said he would die for Him. But what would have happened if Peter had his way?
Then God’s plan of salvation would have failed and there would be no forgiveness for you and me.
As Jesus said, “Shall I not drink the cup the Father has given Me?”
And drink the cup He did. As soldiers pierced His brow and drove nails through His hands and feet, He died, to redeem both you and me.
In the words of Ernst Homburg, “Then, for all that wrought my pardon, for Thy sorrows deep and sore, for Thine anguish in the Garden, I will thank Thee evermore, thank Thee for Thy groaning, sighing, for Thy bleeding and Thy dying, for that last triumphant cry, and shall praise Thee, Lord, on high.”
How thankful we are, dear Father, for all our Savior Jesus has done for us. Grant us, by Your grace, to walk with Him to Gethsemane, to Calvary, and finally to the wonder of the open tomb. This we ask in His name. Amen