“Then Simon Peter, who had a sword, drew it, struck the high priest’s slave, and cut off his right ear. The slave’s name was Malchus. Jesus said to Peter, ‘Put your sword back into its sheath. Am I not to drink the cup that the Father has given Me?’” (John 18:10)
Even at the end, after several years of being with the Lord, following Him daily, hearing Him teach the message of the heavenly Father and His plan for the world as it was intended to be, Peter was armed for battle. Oh, how our animal instincts overwhelm us when conflicts confront us! Fight or flight, our basic nature urges. So easy to explain, so difficult to conquer—that reaction which short-circuits our reason, not to mention spiritual reservoir built up through prayer and contemplation. Can we understand and empathize with St. Peter? Of course we can. That instinct is latent in us all and ready to emerge.
The Lord Jesus does not just prevent His apostle from further acts of violence; He admonishes him and reminds him why it is more than wrong to respond with violence to His capture. Was Peter not listening when he was privileged to be present while the Lord was praying so ardently in the Garden? Had he not heard the plea, “Let this cup pass from Me,” and did he not witness the Lord’s reaction when He realized that He was sent precisely to complete the plan of salvation by accepting the bitter, agonizing and humiliating “cup” of the Cross?
It’s deeper than that. Consider the ears of St. Peter. He had been listening to the divine words of the Lord for all the time since he abandoned his fishnets and boats to take up the exciting adventure behind Christ Jesus. If he wasn’t able to put all the parables, directions and evidence of supernatural actions together, what chance was there for a high priest’s servant to comprehend whatever he may have heard about Jesus of Nazareth? Malchus was doing his duty as a faithful slave. In the eyes of his master, the rabbi from Galilee was a troublemaker, one of whom some mob was claiming to be the expected messiah. He was a threat to the way of life, which the priests and temple administration enjoyed by acquiescing to the demands of the Roman authorities. Was it possible to convert Malchus to another way of thinking, one that would appreciate the love, compassion and relationship to the Almighty, which the Lord Jesus was ushering into history? And did it really matter?
The answer to the second question: Yes, it did matter. Jesus Christ came to save sinners—more, He came to save each sinner. Malchus was a mere slave, but he was a human being worthy of grace and salvation.
The answer to the first question—certainly all things are possible, including the conversion of Malchus. But how could that be if he was unable to hear? Better for his salvation to cut off his arm than his ear. “Hear, O Israel the Lord our God” (Deuteronomy 6:4) that call resounding throughout the Holy Bible—but how can they hear if they are not listening? Malchus must have his ear restored, and so it was. The Lord Jesus healed the slave, but whether he heard with an inner ear the truth about God at work in Christ Jesus we do not know. Our Lord Jesus said at another time they must be taught even when they resist the truth. Let them judge themselves, for the mission of the disciples is to continue spreading the Word of the Lord like the sower sprinkling out his seed, letting it fall where it will.
I must end with a note of sadness, because it appears that the non-Orthodox Christians have grasped that essential directive of the Lord to a far greater extent than the Orthodox Christians. Somehow we seem to feel that it’s too Protestant, or evangelical, or just pushy to impose our faith and teachings on others. We are too willing to live and let live, not considering that we each were baptized into Christ, and we have a duty to “go forth and make disciples of all nations—.” (Matthew 28:19)