John Calvin Commentary Matthew 26:39

"And he went forward a little, and fell on his face, and prayed, saying, My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass away from me: nevertheless, not as I will, but as thou wilt." — Matthew 26:39 (ASV)

And he went forward a little. We have seen in other passages that, to stir himself to greater earnestness in prayer, the Lord prayed in the absence of witnesses. For when we are withdrawn from the sight of people, we succeed better in focusing our thoughts, so as to pay closer attention to what we are doing. It is not, indeed, necessary—even more, it is not always proper—that we should withdraw to secluded places whenever we pray. But when some great need compels us, because the fervency of prayer is more freely indulged when we are alone, it is useful for us to pray apart. And if the Son of God did not neglect this help, it would be the greatest madness of pride for us not to use it for our own benefit.

Furthermore, when God alone is our witness, since there is then no fear of ambition, the believing soul unfolds itself with greater intimacy, and with greater simplicity pours its wishes, groans, anxieties, fears, hopes, and joys into the bosom of God. God allows his people to use many intimate expressions when they pray alone, which, in the presence of others, would seem like ostentation.

And fell on his face. By the very gesture of falling on the earth, Christ showed his deep earnestness in prayer. For though kneeling, as our expression of respect and reverence, is commonly used in prayer, Christ, by throwing himself on the ground as a suppliant, placed himself in a posture reflecting deep distress on account of the intensity of his grief.

My Father, if it be possible. Some people try in vain to show that what is described here is not a prayer, but only a complaint. For my part, while I admit that it is abrupt, I have no doubt that Christ offered a prayer. Nor is it inconsistent with this that he asks for something impossible to be granted to him. For the prayers of believers do not always proceed smoothly to their conclusion, do not always maintain a consistent form, and are not always arranged in a clear order. On the contrary, they are often entangled and confused, and either contradict each other or stop midway, like a ship tossed by storms, which, though it makes its way towards the harbor, cannot always maintain a straight and steady course as it would in a calm sea.

We must remember, indeed, what I recently mentioned: Christ did not have confused emotions like ours, which might draw his mind away from pure moderation. But, to the extent that the pure and innocent nature of man could allow, he was struck with fear and overcome with anguish, so that, amid the violent assaults of temptation, he wavered—so to speak—from one wish to another. This is why, after praying to be delivered from death, he immediately restrains himself and, submitting to the Father's authority, corrects and retracts the wish that had suddenly escaped him.

But it may be asked: How did he pray that the Father's eternal decree, of which he was not ignorant, should be revoked? Or, though he states a condition, if it be possible, yet it seems absurd to suggest God's purpose is changeable. We must maintain that it is utterly impossible for God to revoke His decree. According to Mark, too, Christ seems to contrast God's power with His decree. He says, All things are possible to thee. But it would be improper to extend God's power so far as to lessen His truth by making Him liable to variation and change.

I answer: There would be no absurdity in supposing that Christ, consistent with the practice of the godly, set aside consideration of the divine purpose and committed to the bosom of the Father the desire that troubled him. For believers, in pouring out their prayers, do not always rise to contemplate God's secrets or deliberately inquire what is possible, but are sometimes carried away hastily by the earnestness of their desires. Thus Moses prays that he may be blotted out of the book of life (Exodus 32:33); thus Paul wished to be made an anathema²⁰¹ (Romans 9:3).

Therefore, this was not a premeditated prayer from Christ; rather, the strength and violence of his grief suddenly drew this word from his mouth, to which he immediately added a correction. The same intensity of desire momentarily obscured his recollection of the heavenly decree, so that he did not at that moment reflect that he was sent to be the Redeemer of mankind on this condition.²⁰² Just as distressing anxiety often clouds our vision, so that we do not immediately remember the whole situation. In short, there is no impropriety if, in prayer, we do not always direct our immediate attention to everything in order to maintain a clear sequence.

When Christ says in the Gospel by Matthew that all things are possible to God, he does not intend by these words to set God's power against His unchangeable truth and steadfastness. But since there was no hope—as is usual when matters are desperate—he throws himself on God's power. The word (ποτήριον) cup or chalice—as we have mentioned elsewhere—denotes God's providence, which assigns to each person his measure of the cross and of affliction, just as the master of a household gives an allowance to each servant and distributes portions among the children.

But yet not as I will, but as thou wilt. We see how Christ restrains his feelings from the very beginning and quickly brings himself into obedience. But here it may first be inquired: How could his will be pure from all vice if it did not agree with God's will? For if God's will is the only rule of what is good and right, it follows that all feelings that conflict with it are sinful.

I reply: Though true righteousness involves regulating all our feelings by God's good pleasure, yet there is a certain kind of indirect disagreement with it that is not blameworthy and is not counted as sin. If, for example, a person desires to see the Church in a peaceful and flourishing state, if he wishes that God's children were delivered from afflictions, that all superstitions were removed from the world, and that the rage of wicked men were restrained so as to do no harm. These things, being right in themselves, may properly be desired by believers, even though God may choose to arrange matters differently.

For He chooses that His Son should reign among enemies, that His people should be trained under the cross, and that the triumph of faith and the Gospel should be made more glorious by the opposing schemes of Satan. We see how those prayers are holy that appear to be contrary to God's will, for God does not require us to be always precise or overly meticulous in inquiring what He has ordained, but allows us to ask for what is desirable according to our human perception.

But the question has not yet been fully answered. For since we have just said that all Christ's feelings were properly regulated, why does he now correct himself? He brings his feelings into obedience to God as if he had overstepped what was proper. Certainly, in the first prayer, we do not perceive the calm moderation I have described; for, as far as it is in his power, he refuses and shrinks from fulfilling the office of Mediator. I reply: When the dread of death confronted his mind, bringing with it such darkness that he set aside everything else and eagerly offered that prayer, there was no fault in this. Nor is it necessary to engage in subtle debate about whether it was possible for him to forget our salvation. We should be satisfied with this single consideration: at the time he uttered a prayer to be delivered from death, he was not thinking of other things that would have prevented such a wish.

If it is objected that the first impulse, which needed to be restrained before it went further, was not as well regulated as it should have been, I reply: In the present corruption of our nature, it is impossible to find passionate feelings accompanied by moderation like that which existed in Christ. But we ought to give such honor to the Son of God as not to judge him by what we find in ourselves. For in us, all the desires of the flesh, when strongly aroused, break out into rebellion or, at least, have some mixture of defilement; but Christ, amid the utmost intensity of grief or fear, restrained himself within proper limits. Furthermore, just as musical sounds, though varied and different from each other, are so far from being discordant that they produce sweet melody and fine harmony, so in Christ there was a remarkable example of harmony between the two wills,²⁰³ the will of God and the will of man, so that they differed from each other without any conflict or opposition.

This passage clearly shows the gross folly of those ancient heretics who were called Monothelites,²⁰⁴ because they imagined that Christ's will was only one and simple. For Christ, as God, willed nothing different from the Father; and therefore it follows that his human soul had desires distinct from God's secret purpose. But if even Christ found it necessary to hold his will captive to subject it to God's governance, though it was properly regulated, how carefully should we repress the violence of our feelings, which are always thoughtless, rash, and full of rebellion? And though the Spirit of God governs us, so that we wish for nothing but what is agreeable to reason, still we owe God such obedience as to endure patiently when our wishes are not granted.²⁰⁵ For the humility of faith consists in allowing God to ordain things differently from what we desire. Above all, when we have no certain and special promise, we should abide by this rule: not to ask for anything except on the condition that God will fulfill what He has decreed, which cannot be done unless we surrender our wishes to His disposal.

It now needs to be asked: what advantage did Christ gain by praying? The apostle, in writing to the Hebrews, says that he was heard (ἀπὸ τῆς εὐλαβείας) on account of his fear; for so that passage should be explained, and not, as it is usually explained, on account of his reverence (Hebrews 5:7). That would not have been consistent if Christ had simply feared death, for he was not delivered from it. Therefore, it follows that what led him to pray to be delivered from death was the dread of a greater evil. When he saw God's wrath presented to him, as he stood at God's tribunal charged with the sins of the whole world, he unavoidably shrank with horror from the deep abyss of death. And, therefore, though he suffered death, yet since its pains were loosed—as Peter tells us (Acts 2:24)—and he was victorious in the conflict, the Apostle justly says that he was heard on account of his fear.

Here, ignorant people rise up and exclaim that it would have been unworthy of Christ to be afraid of being swallowed up by death. But I would like them to answer this question: What kind of fear do they suppose it was that drew from Christ drops of blood? (Luke 22:44). For that deathly sweat could only have proceeded from dreadful and unusual horror. If any person, in the present day, were to sweat blood, and in such a quantity that the drops should fall to the ground, it would be considered an astonishing miracle; and if this happened to any man through fear of death, we would say that he had a cowardly and weak mind. Therefore, those people who deny that Christ prayed for the Father to rescue him from the abyss of death ascribe to him a cowardice that would be disgraceful even in an ordinary person.

If it is objected that the fear I am describing arises from unbelief, the answer is easy. When Christ was struck with horror at the divine curse, the human feeling affected him in such a way that faith still remained firm and unshaken. For such was the purity of his nature that he felt, without being wounded by them, those temptations that pierce us with their stings. And yet those people, by portraying him as not having felt temptations, foolishly imagine that he was victorious without a struggle. And, indeed, we have no right to suppose that he feigned any hypocrisy when he complained of a deathly sadness in his soul; nor do the Evangelists speak falsely when they say that he was exceedingly sorrowful and that he trembled.

²⁰¹ “A desiré d’estre separé de Christ;” — — “desired to be separated from Christ.”

²⁰² “Avec ceste condition de souffrir la mort;” — “on this condition of suffering death.”;” — “on this condition of suffering death.”

²⁰³ “Les deux volontés.”.”

²⁰⁴ Μονοθελὢται is compounded of is compounded of μόνος, , one, and and θέλω, , I will. The The Monothelite heresy sprung up in the Seventh Century, and is fully detailed by our ecclesiastical historians. Its leading tenet was, that Christ had not heresy sprung up in the Seventh Century, and is fully detailed by our ecclesiastical historians. Its leading tenet was, that Christ had not one will as God, and as God, and another will as Man. — as Man. — Ed.

²⁰⁵ “Que nos souhaits ne vienent point à loeur issue, quand ainsi luy plaist;” — “that our wishes should not succeed, when it so pleases Him.”;” — “that our wishes should not succeed, when it so pleases Him.”