Author: JC Ryle

The verses we have now read describe what is commonly called Christ’s agony at Gethsemane. It is a passage which undoubtedly contains deep and mysterious things. We ought to read it with reverence and wonder, for there is much in it which we cannot fully comprehend.

Why do we find our Lord so “sorrowful and very heavy,” as He is here described? What are we to make of His words, “My soul is exceeding sorrowful even unto death.” Why do we see Him going apart from His disciples, and falling on His face, and crying to His Father with strong cries, and thrice repeated prayer? Why is the almighty Son of God, who had worked so many miracles, so heavy and disquieted? Why is Jesus, who came into the world to die, so like one ready to faint at the approach of death? Why is all this?

These verses describe the appointment of the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper. Our Lord knew well the things that were before Him, and graciously chose the last quiet evening that He could have before His crucifixion as an occasion for bestowing a parting gift on His church. How precious must this ordinance have afterwards appeared to His disciples when they remembered the events of the night! How mournful is the thought that no ordinance has led to such fierce controversy, and been so grievously misunderstood, as the ordinance of the Lord’s Supper! It ought to have united the church, but our sins have made it a cause of division. The thing which should have been for our welfare has been too often made an occasion of falling.

The first thing that demands our notice in these verses, is the right meaning of our Lord’s words, “This is my body, this is my blood.”

We read, in the beginning of this passage, how our Lord Jesus Christ was betrayed into the hands of His deadly enemies. The priests and scribes, however anxious to put Him to death, were at a loss how to effect their purpose, for fear of an uproar among the people: at this juncture a fitting instrument for carrying out their designs offered himself to them in the person of Judas Iscariot. That false Apostle undertook to deliver his Master into their hands for thirty pieces of silver.

There are few blacker pages in all history than the character and conduct of Judas Iscariot: there is no more awful evidence of the wickedness of man. A poet of our own has said that “sharper than a serpent’s tooth is a thankless child”; but what shall we say of a disciple who would betray his own Master: an apostle who could sell Christ? Surely this was not the least bitter part of the cup of suffering which our Lord drank.

We now approach the closing scene of our Lord Jesus Christ’s earthly ministry. Hitherto we have read of His sayings and doings: we are now about to read of His sufferings and death. Hitherto we have seen Him as the Great Prophet; we are now about to see Him as the great High Priest.

It is a portion of Scripture which ought to be read with peculiar reverence and attention. The place we on we stand is holy ground. Here we see how the seed of the woman bruised the serpent’s head; here we see the great sacrifice to which all the sacrifices of the Old Testament had long pointed; here we see how the blood was shed which “cleanse us from all unrighteousness,” and the Lamb slain who “taketh away the sin of the world.” (1 John 1:9; John 1:29) We see in the death of Christ the great mystery revealed, how God can be just, and yet justify the ungodly. No wonder that all the four Gospels contain a full account of this wonderful event: on other points in our Lord’s history, we often find that when one evangelist speaks the other three are silent; but when we come to the crucifixion, we find it minutely described by all four.

In these verses our Lord Jesus Christ describes the judgment day, and some of its leading circumstances. There are few passages in the whole Bible more solemn and heart-searching than this. May we read it with the deep and serious attention which it deserves.

Let us mark in the first place, who will be the Judge in the last day. We read that it will be “the Son of man”, Jesus Christ himself.

That same Jesus who was born in the manger of Bethlehem and took upon Him the very form of a servant; who was despised and rejected of men and often had not where to lay His head; who was condemned by the princes of this world, beaten, scourged and nailed to the cross — that same Jesus shall Himself judge the world when He comes in His glory. Unto Him the Father hath committed all judgment. (John 5:22). To Him at last every knee shall bow, and every tongue confess that He is Lord (Phil. 2:10–11).

The parable of the talents which we have now read is near akin to that of the ten virgins. Both direct our minds to the same important event: the second advent of Jesus Christ. Both bring before us the same persons: the members of the professing church of Christ. The virgins and the servants are one and the same people — but the same people regarded from a different point, and viewed on different sides. The practical lesson of each parable is the main point of difference: vigilance is the keynote of the first parable, diligence that of the second. The story of the virgins calls on the church to watch; the story of the talents calls on the church to work.

We learn in the first place from this parable that all professing Christians have received something from God. We are all God’s “servants”: we have all “talents” entrusted to our charge.

The chapter we have now begun is a continuation of our Lord’s prophetic discourse on the Mount of Olives. The time to which it refers is plain and unmistakable: from first to last, there is a continual reference to the second advent of Christ and the end of the world. The whole chapter contains three great divisions. In the first, our Lord uses His own second coming as an argument for watchfulness and heart-religion: this He does by the parable of the ten virgins. In the second, He uses his own second coming as an argument for diligence and faithfulness: this He does by the parable of the talents. In the third, he winds up all by a description of the great day of judgment: a passage which for majesty and beauty stands unequalled in the New Testament.

The parable of the ten virgins which we have now read contains lessons peculiarly solemn and awakening. Let us see what they are.

We see for one thing that the second coming of Christ will find His church a mixed body, containing evil as well as good.

There are verses in this passage which are often much misapplied. “The coming of the Son of Man” is frequently spoken of as being

the same thing as death; the texts which describe the uncertainty of His coming are used in epitaphs, and thought suitable to the tomb. But there is no solid ground for such an application of this passage. Death is one thing, and the coming of the Son of Man is quite another. The subject of these verses is not death, but the second advent of Jesus Christ. Let us remember this. It is a serious thing to wrest Scripture and use it in any but its true meaning.

The first thing that demands our attention in these verses is the awful account that they give of the state of the world when the Lord Jesus comes again.

In this part of our Lord’s prophecy He describes His own second coming to judge the world. This, at all events, seems the natural meaning of the passage: to take any lower view appears to be a violent straining of Scripture language. If the solemn words here used mean nothing more than the coming of the Roman armies to Jerusalem, we may explain away anything in the Bible. The event here described is one of far greater moment than the march of an earthly army; it is nothing less than the closing act of the present dispensation — the second personal advent of Jesus Christ.

These verses teach us in the first place that when the Lord Jesus

returns to this world He shall come with peculiar glory and majesty. He shall come “in the clouds of heaven, with power and great glory.” Before His presence the very sun, moon and stars shall be darkened, and “the powers of heaven shall be shaken.”

One main subject of this part of our Lord’s prophecy is the taking of Jerusalem by the Romans. That great event took place about forty years after the words we have now read were spoken. A full account of it is to be found in the writings of the historian Josephus: those writings are the best comment on our Lord’s words; they are a striking proof of the accuracy of every tittle of His predictions. The horrors and miseries which the Jews endured throughout the siege of their city exceed anything on record: it was truly a time of tribulation, so as was not since the beginning of the world.

It surprises some to find so much importance attached to the taking of Jerusalem: they would rather regard the whole chapter as unfulfilled. Such persons forget that Jerusalem and the temple were the heart of the old Jewish dispensation. When they were destroyed, the old Mosaic system came to an end. The daily sacrifice, the yearly feasts, the altar, the holy of holies and the priesthood were all essential parts of revealed religion, till Christ came — but no longer. When He died upon the cross, their work was done: they were dead, and it only remained that they should be buried. But it was not fitting that this thing should be done quietly. The ending of a dispensation given with so much solemnity at Mount Sinai might well be expected to be marked with particular solemnity; the destruction of the holy temple, where so many old saints had seen “shadows of good things to come,” might well be expected to form a subject of prophecy: and so it was. The Lord Jesus specially predicts the desolation of “the holy place.” The great High Priest describes the end of the dispensation which had been a schoolmaster to bring men to himself.