Fear and wonder filled the minds of the faithful eleven. One of them betray their beloved Master? It was a thought inconceivable to them. With astonished looks they turned from one to another, and with full confidence in the integrity of their hearts they asked, “Lord, is it I?”
Solemnly upon the stillness broke that answer.
“He that dippeth his hand into the dish with me, the same shall betray me, and wo unto that man by whom the Son of Man is betrayed, it had been good for that man had he never been born.”
When these fearful words of warning were pronounced, and every voice was hushed, and every heart was awe-struck, again was heard the trembling voice of Judas the guilty, echoing faintly, and as though irresistibly compelled to utter the words, “Master, is it I?”
The sad eyes of the eleven were fixed upon their brother and their Lord, and oh what a thrill of horror must have run through every heart as the answer “Thou hast said,” was whispered in a tone of sorrowful reproach by the Saviour, who knew that he was already betrayed!
When Judas saw the reproachful expression that every face wore, and was thus assured that his treachery was known, he felt his place was no longer amid the faithful followers and servants of Jesus—he knew well enough the just horror with which the holy men surrounding him would look upon his ingratitude and soul-destroying guilt. He had still sense enough left to feel that he should no longer remain among those who had such cause to deeply deplore the desecration he had done the service of Christ; and, too, his inclination for, and pleasure in that service, and his desire to remain in that holy company was gone. He had chosen another master, even the Evil One—he must fight under another banner, even that of the Blackness of Darkness!
Publicly he had parted with his heavenly portion for a mere handful of silver, and now what part or lot had he in the work, to do which a clean heart and a right spirit were so pre-eminently required? Self-forgetfulness, constancy, devotion, truth, he lacked all these! how then could he further the cause of the Redeemer? Judas must have gone from that chamber of mournful feasting feeling himself to be a doomed man, bearing upon himself the full weight of the heavy curse of God!
An impassable barrier, an unfathomable gulf lay now between him and the works of holiness—a separating wall built even by his own willing hands up to the portal of heaven, shut him forever from the hope of mercy or the possibility of repentance!
It is night. Over the Garden of Gethsemane is spread the shadow of a dark cloud. The moon’s light is obscured; or, where at intervals it appears between the broken clouds, its dim rays render the sadness and silence of the place only more mournful still. To the quietness and retirement of that garden, One has come whose soul is filled with sorrow even unto death! He has spoken kindly words of love to his disciples, he has bidden them tarry in the garden to watch with Him; but though Jesus would fain have them nigh, his agony and suffering were too great for any but the Father to witness, therefore he went apart from them, and falling on his face, in the depth of anguish he prayed, “Oh! my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me—nevertheless not as I will, but as Thou wilt!”