Then, something funny:

(The Greek original has been daintily euphemised, in the New International Version, to read: "they drew back and fell to the ground").

The lynching mob stood up and patted the dust from their hindquarters.

No one said a thing.

Malchus, captain of the Temple guard, said, "Who is Jesus of Nazareth?"

Bam! – the entire mob was knocked flat on their butts a second time!

You had to be there to know just how amazing that was, to hear Jesus say, "I am," and to see all of those sonzabitches get knocked onto their fannies, all at once, just as if the rug had been pulled out from under their feet!  And then to see them fall for the same trick, twice!   (Jesus did not laugh or even crack a smile, but his lips were twitching, I can tell you.)

If I had been one of those priests or Temple guards, I'd have called it a night and gone home before he slammed my bum into the dirt a third time.  Jesus could have stood there all night long, just knocking those armed fascists flat onto their arses, in unison, every time they stood up. But he chose not to do that, and here's why:  it would have been a waste of time.  Jesus, at age 31, just wanted to get the Crucifixion over with and to go back home, up to the Third Heaven.

Judas, though he was still tipsy, sat up from the ground. He raised his hand like a schoolboy, and said, "Teacher!  Teacher!" (Mark 14:45).  Jesus signaled for him to stand, and to come forward:

Jesus said, "No, I must let him kiss me, for thus it is written of the Son of Man: 'Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth'" (Sol. 1:2).

One difference between Jesus and me is that I would not have let Judas Iscariot kiss me with the kisses of his mouth.  But Jesus was committed to fulfilling as many of those Old Testament prophecies as possible.

Jesus had taught his disciples the correct protocol for kissing him in public, which was a quick, dry peck on his hand, or cheek, or forehead.  It was absolutely forbidden, when the disciples kissed the Son of God by way of "hello," to make a sucking sound during the pucker, or a loud smack to mark the finale (Matt. 26:49, Luke 7:45).  But Judas, who was drunk, took his sweet, noisy time of it.

Jesus this time zipped his lip.  He did not say "I am!" and knock the man upon his bum, which surprised me, because Malchus had a large buttocks: the fall would not have hurt him, and it might actually have been quite funny. But that was the very moment when Simon Peter's young son, John Mark (a.k.a. Saint Mark), eleven years old, returned from a swim in the nearby Pool of Bethesda.  The youth wore a linen towel about his loins and nothing underneath (none of us guys, in the ancient era, wore swimsuits).  But when he came to the Garden of Gethsemane and saw that Jesus was in trouble, young Mark became frightened and dropped his towel (Mark 14:50).  So it was almost like a re-play of Mary Magdalene and the vigilantes, only worse:

Mark stood there for a minute, shivering and vulnerable.  Jesus and the Twelve paid no attention to him, they were too busy.  But one of the priests was distracted by the ruddy-cheeked youth.  And soon, all of them were.

"Arrest that boy!" shouted one of the priests.

"I'm on it!" shouted another.

"I saw him first!" shouted a third.

"He's mine!" said a fourth.

Mark shouted, "Dad, help!" (to Simon Peter) and "Holy Jesus!" (to the Lord), and took running off like a March hare.  The frightened, naked, youth ran barefoot past the crowd, out the south gate and down the road toward Bethany, his pale white, nubile, dripping-wet body glistening in the moonlight – with some two dozen Temple priests in hot pursuit (Mark 14:51-52).

I never heard if they caught him.  I certainly hope not.  These were Jewish priests, not Roman Catholic, but still, it could not have gone well with the boy if those priests overtook him.

(After that spring night in 31 CE, Saint Mark drops from the New Testament story for about ten years.  He reappears in the book of Acts as the handsome young man over whom Saint Barnabas and Saint Paul had their infamously bitter "screaming match" (Acts 15:39), following Barnabas's careless remark that Mark had the looks of "a Roman god" – but Barnabas meant nothing sinister by that, he was just stating a fact; for Saint Mark as a young adult looked very much like a circumcised version of the marble statues of Apollo that Paul and Barnabas had seen on their missionary journeys [Acts 15:37-16:3].)

But I have digressed.

The commotion in the Garden awoke Saint Peter, who had fallen asleep again.  Awaking to Mark's cry of "Dad, help!" Peter sprang into action – and promptly attacked the wrong person.

Peter sneaked up behind Officer Malchus, the captain of the Temple guard, who was still chatting with Jesus.  Malchus, despite his faults, was a happily married man.  He had not joined the Jewish priests in running after young Mark like a lovestruck idiot, and he had no interest in doing so.  But Peter did not know that.  For Peter, it was an opportunity to play Zorro.

The Lord had put Peter in custody of the two swords that they brought with them to Gethsemane from the Last Supper; which was like putting a loaded quail-gun in the hands of an American Vice President after he's had a litre of Scotch.  Suddenly seizing the fellow from behind, by the hair, Peter drew a sword from its sheath and cut off Officer Malchus's entire earlobe – sliced it right off, as clean as the tag from a new bowling ball.  Peter then flicked the man's severed ear like a wet potato chip into a bed of lilies.  (Luke 22:3, John 13:27).

How Officer Malchus howled!  How Peter jumped behind Jesus for protection! —just like a kid behind his mother's skirts!

Jesus rolled his eyes, somewhat impatiently, and shook Peter loose. He then made the apostle get down on his hands and knees in the lily patch, and find the amputated ear, and return it.

Jesus licked the edges of the severed earlobe—it was messier than you might think.  With a few extra dabs of spit, he then gently fit the thing back onto Malchus's head.  He held it in place for about thirty seconds.  And when he let go, the ear was as good as new.

Officer Malchus thanked Jesus for the miracle – and then arrested him anyway.  I thought that was a crummy thing to do, to arrest Jesus right after Jesus fixed his ear.  But Malchus was a devout Jew who took all of his moral values from the Old Testament  (Mark 14:32-41; Luke 22:49-51; John 18:10-11).

Peter's attack on Officer Malchus is why my friend Beelzebub always calls the legendary boxing champ, Mike Tyson, "the Christian" – because Mike Tyson, in a 1997 match, bit off the ear of his opponent, Evander Holyfield, and spat it out into the ring, warm and bleeding; but I say you cannot judge other Christians by the behavior of Simon Peter.

 – L.

(Tomorrow:  the old rugged cross)