(Mat_15:21-28; Mar_7:24-30)

The purpose of Christ to withdraw His disciples from the excitement of Galilee, and from what might follow the execution of the Baptist, had been interrupted by the events at Bethsaida-Julias, but it was not changed. On the contrary, it must have been intensified. That wild, popular outburst, which had almost forced upon Him a Jewish Messiah-Kingship; the discussion with the Jerusalem Scribes about the washing of hands on the following day; the Discourses of the Sabbath, and the spreading disaffection, defection, and opposition which were its consequences – all pointed more than ever to the necessity of a break in the publicity of His Work, and to withdrawal from that part of Galilee. The nearness of the Sabbath, and the circumstance that the Capernaum-boat lay moored on the shore of Bethsaida, had obliged Him, when withdrawing from that neighbourhood, to return to Capernaum. And there the Sabbath had to be spent – in what manner we know. But as soon as its sacred rest was past, the journey was resumed. For the reasons already explained, it extended much further than any other, and into regions which, we may venture to suggest, would not have been traversed but for the peculiar circumstances of the moment.

A comparatively short journey would bring Jesus and His companions from Capernaum ‘into the parts,’ or, as Mark more specifically calls them, ‘the borders of Tyre and Sidon.’ At that time this district extended, north of Galilee, from the Mediterranean to the Jordan. But the event about to be related occurred, as all circumstances show, not within the territory of Tyre and Sidon, but on its borders, and within the limits of the Land of Israel. If any doubt could attach to the objects which determined Christ’s journey to those parts, it would be removed by the circumstance that Matthew tells us, He ‘withdrew’ thither, while Mark notes that He ‘entered into an house, and would have no man know it.’ That house in which Jesus sought shelter and privacy would, of course, be a Jewish home; and, that it was within the borders of Israel, is further evidenced by the notice of Matthew, that ‘the Canaanitish woman’ who sought His help ‘came out from those herders’ – that is, from out the Tyro-Sidonian district – into that Galilean border where Jesus was.

The whole circumstances seem to point to more than a night’s rest in that distant home. Possibly, the two first Passover-days may have been spent here. If the Saviour had left Capernaum on the Sabbath evening, or the Sunday morning, He may have reached that home on the borders before the Paschal Eve, and the Monday and Tuesday may have been the festive Paschal days, on which sacred rest was enjoined. This would also give an adequate motive for such a sojourn in that house, as seems required by the narrative of Mark. According to that Evangelist, ‘Jesus would have no man know’ His Presence in that place, ‘but He could not be hid.’ Manifestly, this could not apply to the rest of one night in a house. According to the same Evangelist, the fame of His Presence spread into the neighbouring district of Tyre and Sidon, and reached the mother of the demonised child, upon which she went from her home into Galilee to apply for help to Jesus. All this implies a stay of two or three days. And with this also agrees the after-complaint of the disciples: ‘Send her away, for she crieth after us.’ As the Saviour apparently received the woman in the house, it seems that she must have followed some of the disciples, entreating their help or intercession in a manner that attracted the attention which, according to the will of Jesus, they would fain have avoided, before, in her despair, she ventured into the Presence of Christ within the house.

All this resolves into a higher harmony those small seeming discrepancies, which negative criticism had tried to magnify into contradictions. It also adds graphic details to the story. She who now sought His help was, as Matthew calls her, from the Jewish standpoint, ‘a Canaanitish woman,’ by which term a Jew would designate a native of Phoenicia, or, as Mark calls her, a Syro-Phoenician, (to distinguish her country from Lybo-Phoenicia), and ‘a Greek’ – that is, a heathen. But, we can understand how she who, as Bengel says, made the misery of her little child her own, would, on hearing of the Christ and His mighty deed, seek His help with the most intense earnestness, and that, in so doing, she would approach Him with lowliest reverence, falling at His Feet. But what in the circumstances seems so peculiar, and, in our view, furnishes the explanation of the Lord’s bearing towards this woman, is her mode of addressing Him: ‘O Lord, Thou Son of David!’ This was the most distinctively Jewish appellation of the Messiah; and yet it is emphatically stated of her, that she was a heathen. Tradition has preserved a few reported sayings of Christ, of which that about to be quoted seems, at least, quite Christ-like. It is reported that, having seen a man working on the Sabbath, He said: “O man, if indeed thou knowest what thou doest, thou art blessed; but if thou knowest not, thou art cursed, and art a transgressor of the Law.”’ The same principle applied to the address of this woman – only that, in what followed, Christ imparted to her the knowledge needful to make her blessed.

Spoken by a heathen, these words were an appeal, not to the Messiah of Israel, but to an Israelitish Messiah – for David had never reigned over her or her people. The title might be most rightfully used, if the promises to David were fully and spiritually apprehended – not otherwise. If used without that knowledge, it was an address by a stranger to a Jewish Messiah, Whose works were only miracles, and not also and primarily signs. Now this was exactly the error of the Jews which Jesus had encountered and combated, alike when He resisted the attempt to make Him King, in His reply to the Jerusalem Scribes, and in His Discourses at Capernaum. To have granted her the help she so entreated, would have been, as it were, to reverse the whole of His Teaching, and to make His works of healing merely works of power. For, it will not be contended that this heathen woman had full spiritual knowledge of the world-wide bearing of the Davidic promises, or of the world-embracing designation of the Messiah as the Son of David. In her mouth, then, it meant something to which Christ could not have yielded. And yet He could not refuse her petition. And so He first taught her, in such manner as she could understand – that which she needed to know, before she could approach Him in such manner – the relation of the heathen to the Jewish world, and of both to the Messiah, and then He gave her what she asked.

It is this, we feel convinced, which explains all. It could not have been, that from His human standpoint He first kept silence, His deep tenderness and sympathy forbidding Him to speak, while the normal limitation of His Mission forbade Him to act as she sought. Such limitation could not have existed in His mind; nor can we suppose such an utter separation of His Human from His Divine consciousness in His Messianic acting. And we recoil from the opposite explanation, which supposes Christ to have either tried the faith of the woman, or else spoken with a view to drawing it out. We shrink from the, idea of anything like an after-thought, even for a good purpose, on the part of the Divine Saviour. All such afterthoughts are, to our thinking, incompatible with His Divine Purity and absolute rectitude. God does not make us good by a device – and that is a very wrong view of trials, or of delayed answers to prayer, which men sometimes take. Nor can we imagine, that the Lord would have made such cruel trial of the poor agonised woman, or played on her feelings, when the issue would have been so unspeakably terrible, if in her weakness she had failed. There is nothing analogous in the case of this poor heathen coming to petition, and being tried by being told that she could not be heard, because she belonged to the dogs, not the children, and the trial of Abraham, who was a hero of faith, and had long walked with God. In any case, on any of the views just combated, the Words of Jesus would bear a needless and inconceivable harshness, which grates on all our feelings concerning Him. The Lord does not afflict willingly, nor try needlessly, nor disguise His loving thoughts and purposes, in order to bring about some effect in us. He needs not such means; and, with reverence be it said, we cannot believe that He ever uses them.

But, viewed as the teaching of Christ to this heathen concerning Israel’s Messiah all becomes clear, even in the very brief reports of the Evangelists, of which that by Matthew reads like that of one present, that of Mark rather like that of one who relates what he has heard from another (Peter). She had spoken, but Jesus had answered her not a word. When the disciples – in some measure, probably, still sharing the views of this heathen, that he was the Jewish Messiah – without, indeed, interceding for her, asked that she might be sent away, because she was troublesome to them He replied, that His Mission was only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. This was absolutely true, as regarded His Work while upon earth; and true, in every sense, as we keep in view the world-wide bearing of the Davidic reign and promises, and the real relation between Israel and the world. Thus baffled, as it might seem, she cried no longer ‘Son of David,’ but, ‘Lord, help me.’ It was then that the special teaching came in the manner she could understand. If it were as ‘the Son of David’ that He was entreated – if the heathen woman as such applied to the Jewish Messiah as such, what, in the Jewish view, were the heathens but ‘dogs,’ and what would be fellowship with them, but to cast to the dogs – house-dogs, it may be – what should have been the children’s bread? And, certainly, no expression more common in the month of the Jews, than that which designated the heathens as dogs.  Most harsh as it was, as the outcome of national pride and Jewish self-assertion, yet in a sense it was true, that those within were the children, and those ‘without’ ‘dogs.’ Only, who were they within and who they without? What made ‘a child,’ whose was the bread – and what characterised ‘the dog,’ that was ‘without’?

Two lessons did she learn with that instinct-like rapidity which Christ’s personal Presence – and it alone – seemed ever and again to call forth, just as the fire which fell from heaven consumed the sacrifice of Elijah. ‘Yea, Lord,’ it is as Thou sayest: heathenism stands related to Judaism as the house-dogs to the children, and it were not meet to rob the children of their bread in order to give it to dogs. But Thine own words show, that such would not now be the case. If they are house-dogs, then they are the Master’s, and under His table, and when He breaks the bread to the children, in the breaking of it the crumbs must fall all around. As Matthew puts it: ‘The dogs eat of the crumbs which fall from their Master’s table;’ as Mark puts it: ‘The dogs under the table eat of the children’s crumbs.’ Both versions present different aspects of the same truth. Heathenism may be like the dogs, when compared with the children’s place and privileges; but He is their Master still, and they under His table; and when He breaks the bread there is enough and to spare for them – even under the table they eat of the children’s crumbs.

But in so saying she was no longer ‘under the table,’ but had sat down at the table with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and was partaker of the children’s bread. He was no longer to her the Jewish Messiah, but truly ‘the Son of David.’ She now understood what she prayed and she was a daughter of Abraham. And what had taught her all this was faith in His Person and Work, as not only just enough for the Jews, but enough and to spare for all – children at the table and dogs under it; that in and with Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and David, all nations were blessed in Israel’s King and Messiah. And so it was, that the Lord said it: ‘O woman, great is thy faith: be it done unto thee even as thou wilt.’ Or, as Mark puts it, not quoting the very sound of the Lord’s words, but their impression upon Peter: ‘For this saying go thy way; the devil is gone out of thy daughter.’ And her daughter was healed from that hour.’ And she went away unto her house, and found her daughter prostrate [indeed] upon the bed, and [but] the demon gone out.’

To us there is in this history even more than the solemn interest of Christ’s compassion and mighty Messianic working, or the lessons of His teaching. We view it in connection with the scenes of the previous few days, and see how thoroughly it accords with them: in spirit, thus recognising the deep internal unity of Christ’s Words and Works, where least, perhaps, we might have looked for such harmony. And again we, view it in its deeper bearing upon, and lessons to, all times. To how many, not only of all nations and conditions, but in all states of heart and mind, nay, in the very lowest depths of conscious guilt and alienation from God, must this have brought unspeakable comfort, the comfort of truth, and the comfort of His Teaching. Be it so, an outcast, ‘dog;’ not at ‘the table,’ but under the table. Still we are at His Feet; it is our Master’s Table; He is our Master; and, as He breaks the children’s bread, it is of necessity that ‘the children’s crumbs’ fall to us – enough, quite enough, and to spare. Never can we be outside His reach, nor of that of His gracious care, and of sufficient provision to eternal life.

Yet this lesson also must we learn, that as ‘heathens’ we may, not call on Him as ‘David’s Son,’ till we know why we so call Him. If there can be no despair, no being cast out by Him, no absolute distance that hopelessly separates from His Person and Provision, there must be no presumption, no forgetfulness of the right relation, no expectancy of magic-miracles, no viewing of Christ as a Jewish Messiah. We must learn it, and painfully, first by His silence, then by this, that He is only sent to the lost sheep of the house of Israel, what we are and where we are – that we may be prepared for the grace of God and the gift of grace. All men – Jews and Gentiles, ‘children’ and ‘dogs’ – are as before Christ and God equally undeserving and equally sinners, but those who have fallen deep can only learn that they are sinners by learning that they are great sinners, and will only taste of the children’s bread when they have felt, ‘Yea, Lord,’ ‘for even the dogs’ ‘under the table eat of the children’s crumbs,’ ‘which fall from their Master’s table.’

(Mat_15:29-31; Mar_7:31-37; Mar_8:22-26; Mat_9:27-31)

If even the brief stay of Jesus in that friendly Jewish home by the borders of Tyre could not remain unknown, the fame of the healing of the Syro-Phoenician maiden would soon have rendered impossible that privacy and retirement, which had been the chief object of His leaving Capernaum. Accordingly, when the two Paschal days were ended, He resumed His journey, extending it far beyond any previously undertaken, perhaps beyond what had been originally intended. The borders of Palestine proper, though not of what the Rabbis reckoned as belonging to it, were passed. Making a long circuit through the territory of Sidon, He descended – probably through one of the passes of the Hermon range – into the country of the Tetrarch Philip. Thence He continued ‘through the midst of the borders of Decapolis,’ till He once more reached the eastern, or south-eastern, shore of the Lake of Galilee. It will be remembered that the Decapolis, or confederacy of ‘the Ten Cities,’ was wedged in between the Tetrarchies of Philip and Antipas. It embraced ten cities, although that was not always their number, and their names are variously enumerated. Of these cities Hippos, on the southeastern shore of the Lake, was the most northern, and Philadelphia, the ancient Rabbath-Ammon, the most southern. Scythopolis, the ancient Beth-Shean, with its district, was the only one of them on the western bank of the Jordan. This extensive ‘Ten Cities’ district was essentially heathen territory. Their ancient monuments show, in which of them Zeus, Astarte, and Athene, or else Artemis, Hercules, Dionysos, Demeter, or other Grecian divinities, were worshipped. Their political constitution was that of the free Greek cities. They were subject only to the Governor of Syria, and formed part of Coele-Syria, in contradistinction to Syro-Phoenicia. Their privileges dated from the time of Pompey, from which also they afterwards reckoned their era.

It is important to keep in view that, although Jesus was now within the territory of ancient Israel, the district and all the surroundings were essentially heathen, although in closest proximity to, and intermingling with, that which was purely Jewish. Matthew gives only a general description of Christ’s activity there, concluding with a notice of the impression produced on those who witnessed His mighty deeds, as leading them to glorify ‘the God of Israel.’ This, of course, confirms the impression that the scene is laid among a population chiefly heathen, and agrees with the more minute notice of the locality in the Gospel of Mark. One special instance of miraculous healing is recorded in the latter, not only from its intrinsic interest, but perhaps, also, as in some respects typical.

1. Among those brought to Him was one deaf, whose speech had, probably in consequence of this, been so affected as practically to deprive him of its power. This circumstance, and that he is not spoken of as so afflicted from his birth, leads us to infer that the affection was – as not unfrequently – the result of disease, and not congenital. Remembering, that alike the subject of the miracle and they who brought him were heathens, but in constant and close contact with Jews, what follows is vividly true to life. The entreaty to ‘lay His Hand upon him’ was heathen, and yet semi-Jewish also. Quite peculiar it is, when the Lord took him aside from the multitude; and again that, in healing him, ‘He spat,’ applying it directly to the diseased organ. We read of the direct application of saliva only here and in the healing of the blind man at Bethsaida.  We are disposed to regard this as peculiar to the healing of Gentiles. Peculiar, also, is the term expressive of burden on the mind, when, ‘looking up to heaven, He sighed.’ Peculiar, also, is the ‘thrusting’ of His Fingers into the man’s ears, and the touch of his tongue. Only the upward look to Heaven and the command ‘Ephphatha’ – ‘be opened’ – seem the same as in His every day wonders of healing. But we mark that all here seems much more elaborate than in Israel. The reason of this must, of course, be sought in the moral condition of the person healed. Certain characteristics about the action of the Lord may, perhaps, help us to understand it better. There is an accumulation of means, yet each and all inadequate to effect the purpose, but all connected with His Person. This elaborate use of such means would banish the idea of magic; it would arouse the attention, and fix it upon Christ, as using these means, which were all connected with His own person; while, lastly, the sighing, and the word of absolute command, would all have here their special significance.

Let us try to realize the scene. They have heard of Him as the wonder-worker, these heathens in the land so near to, and yet, so far from, Israel; and they have brought to Him ‘the lame, blind, dumb, maimed, and many others,’ and laid them at His Feet. Oh, what wonder! All disease vanishes in presence of Heaven’s Own Life Incarnate. Tongues long weighted are loosed, limbs maimed or bent by disease are restored to health, the lame are stretched straight; the film of disease and the paralysis of nerve-impotence pass from eyes long insensible to the light. It is a new era – Israel conquers the heathen world, not by force, but by love; not by outward means, but by the manifestation of life-power from above. Truly, this is the Messianic conquest and reign: ‘and they glorified the God of Israel.’

From amongst this mass of misery we single out and follow one, whom the Saviour takes aside, that it may not merely be the breath of heaven’s spring passing over them all, that wooeth him to new life, but that He may touch and handle him, and so give health to soul and body. The man is to be alone with Christ and the disciples. It is not magic; means are used, and such as might not seem wholly strange to the man. And quite a number of means! He thrust His fingers into his deaf ears, as if to make a way for the sound: He spat on his tongue, using a means of healing accepted in popular opinion of Jew and Gentile;  He touched his tongue. Each act seemed a fresh incitement to his faith – and all connected itself with the Person of Christ. As yet there was not breath of life in it all. But when the man’s eyes followed those of the Saviour to heaven, he would understand whence He expected, whence came to Him the power – Who had sent Him, and Whose He was. And as he followed the movement of Christ’s lips, as he groaned under the felt burden He had come to remove, the sufferer would look up expectant. Once more the Saviour’s lips parted to speak the word of command: ‘Be opened’ – and straightway the gladsome sound would pass into ‘his hearing,’ and the bond that seemed to have held his tongue was loosed. He was in a new world, into which He had put him that had spoken that one Word; He, Who had been burdened under the load which He had lifted up to His Father; to Whom all the means that had been used had pointed, and with Whose Person they had been connected.

It was in vain to enjoin silence. Wider and wider spread the unbidden fame, till it was caught up in this one hymn of praise, which has remained to all time the jubilee of our experience of Christ as the Divine Healer: ‘He hath done all things well – He maketh even the deaf to hear, and the dumb to speak.’ This Jewish word, Ep̱p̱aṯa, spoken to the Gentile Church by Him, Who, looking up to heaven, sighed under the burden, even while He uplifted it, has opened the hearing and loosed the bond of speech. Most significantly was it spoken in the language of the Jews; and this also does it teach, that Jesus must always have spoken the Jews’ language. For, if ever, to a Grecian in Grecian territory would He have spoken in Greek, not in the Jews’ language, if the former and not the latter had been that of which He made use in His Words and Working.

2. Another miracle is recorded by Mark, as wrought by Jesus in these parts, and, as we infer, on a heathen. All the circumstances are kindred to those just related. It was in Bethsaida-Julias, that one blind was brought unto Him, with the entreaty that He would touch him, – just as in the case of the deaf and dumb. Here, also, the Saviour took him aside – ‘led him out of the village’ – and ‘spat on his eyes, and put His Hands upon him.’ We mark not only the similarity of the means employed, but the same, and even greater elaborateness in the use of them, since a twofold touch is recorded before the man saw clearly. On any theory – even that which would regard the Gospel-narratives as spurious – this trait must have been intended to mark a special purpose, since this is the only instance in which a miraculous cure was performed gradually, and not at once and completely. So far as we can judge, the object was, by a gradual process of healing, to disabuse the man of any idea of magical cure, while at the same time the process of healing again markedly centered in the Person of Jesus. With this also agrees (as in the case of the deaf and dumb) the use of spittle in the healing. We may here recall, that the use of saliva was a well-known Jewish remedy for affections of the eyes. It was thus that the celebrated Rabbi Meir relieved one of his fair hearers, when her husband, in his anger at her long detention by the Rabbi’s sermons, had ordered her to spit in the preacher’s face. Pretending to suffer from his eyes, the Rabbi contrived that the woman publicly spat in his eyes, thus enabling her to obey her husband’s command. The anecdote at least proves, that the application of saliva was popularly regarded as a remedy for affections of the eyes.

Thus in this instance also, as in that of the deaf and dumb, there was the use of means, Jewish means, means manifestly insufficient (since their first application was only partially successful), and a multiplication of means – yet all centering in, and proceeding from, His Person. As further analogies between the two, we mark that the blindness does not seem to have been congenital, but the consequence of disease, and that silence was enjoined after the healing. Lastly, the confusedness of his sight, when first restored to him, surely conveyed not only to him but to us all, both a spiritual lesson and a spiritual warning.

3. Yet a third miracle of healing requires to be here considered, although related by Matthew in quite another connection. But we have learned enough of the structure of the First Gospel to know, that its arrangement is determined by the plan of the writer rather than by the chronological succession of events. The manner in which the Lord healed the two blind men, the injunction of silence, and the notice that none the less they spread His fame in all that land, seem to imply that He was not on the ordinary scene of His labours in Galilee. Nor can we fail to mark an internal analogy between this and the other two miracles enacted amidst a chiefly Grecian population. And, strange though it may sound, the cry with which the two blind men who sought His help followed Him, ‘Son of David, have mercy on us,’ comes, as might be expected, more frequently from Gentile than from Jewish lips. It was, of course, pre-eminently the Jewish designation of the Messiah, the basis of all Jewish thought of Him. But, perhaps on that very ground, it would express in Israel rather the homage of popular conviction, than, as in this case, the cry for help in bodily disease. Besides, Jesus had not as yet been hailed as the Messiah, except by His most intimate disciples; and, even by them, chiefly in the joy of their highest spiritual attainments. He was the Rabbi, Teacher, Wonder-worker, Son of Man, even Son of God; but the idea of the Davidic Kingdom as implying spiritual and Divine, not outwardly royal rule, lay as yet on the utmost edge of the horizon, covered by the golden mist of the Sun of Righteousness in His rising. On the other hand, we can understand, how to Gentiles, who resided in Palestine, the Messiah of Israel would chiefly stand out as ‘the Son of David.’ It was the most ready, and, at the same time, the most universal, form in which the great Jewish hope could be viewed by them. It presented to their minds the most marked contrast to Israel’s present fallen state, and it recalled the Golden Age of Israel’s past, and that, as only the symbol of a far wider and more glorious reign, the fulfilment of what to David had only been promises.

Peculiar to this history is the testing question of Christ, whether they really believed what their petition implied, that He was able to restore their sight; and, again, His stern, almost passionate, insistence on their silence as to the mode of their cure. Only on one other occasion do we read of the same insistence. It is, when the leper had expressed the same absolute faith in Christ’s ability to heal if He willed it, and Jesus had, as in the case of those two blind men, conferred the benefit by the touch of His Hand. In both these cases, it is remarkable that, along with strongest faith of those who came to Him, there was rather an implied than an expressed petition on their part. The leper who knelt before Him only said: ‘Lord, if Thou wilt Thou canst make me clean;’ and the two blind men: ‘Have mercy on us, Thou Son of David.’ Thus it is the highest and most realising faith, which is most absolute in its trust and most reticent as regards the details of its request.

But as regards the two blind men (and the healed leper also), it is almost impossible not to connect Christ’s peculiar insistence on their silence with their advanced faith. They had owned Jesus as ‘the Son of David,’ and that, not in the Judaic sense (as by the Syro-Phoenician woman), but as able to do all things, even to open by His touch the eyes of the blind. And it had been done to them, as it always is – according to their faith. But a profession of faith, so wide-reaching as theirs, and sealed by the attainment of what it sought, yet scarcely dared to ask, must not be publicly proclaimed. It would, and in point of fact did, bring to Him crowds which, unable spiritually to understand the meaning of such a confession, would only embarrass and hinder, and whose presence and homage would have to be avoided as much, if not more, than that of open enemies. For confession of the mouth must ever be the outcome of heart-belief, and the acclamations of an excited Jewish crowd were as incongruous to the real Character of the Christ, and as obstructive to the progress of His Kingdom, as is the outward homage of a world which has not heart-belief in His Power, nor heart-experience of His ability and willingness to cleanse the leper and to open the eyes of the blind. Yet the leprosy of Israel and the blindness of the Gentile world are equally removed by the touch of His Hand at the cry of, faith.

The question has been needlessly discussed, whether they were to praise or blame, who, despite the Saviour’s words, spread His fame. We scarcely know what, or how much, they disobeyed. They could not but speak of His Person; and theirs was, perhaps, not yet that higher silence which is content simply to sit at His Feet.

(Mat 12:1-21; Mar 2:23-3:6; Luk_6:1-11)

In grouping together the three miracles of healing described in the last chapter, we do not wish to convey that it is certain they had taken place in precisely that order. Nor do we feel sure, that they preceded what is about to be related. In the absence of exact data, the succession of events and their location must be matter of combination. From their position in the Evangelic narratives, and the manner in which all concerned speak and act, we inferred, that they took place at that particular period and east of the Jordan, in the Decapolis or else in the territory of Philip. They differ from the events about to be related by the absence of the Jerusalem Scribes, who hung on the footsteps of Jesus. While the Saviour tarried on the borders of Tyre, and thence passed through the territory of Sidon into the Decapolis and to the southern and eastern shores of the Lake of Galilee, they were in Jerusalem at the Passover. But after the two festive days, which would require their attendance in the Temple, they seem to have returned to their hateful task. It would not be difficult for them to discover the scene of such mighty works as His. Accordingly, we now find them once more confronting Christ. And the events about to be related are chronologically distinguished from those that had preceded, by this presence and opposition of the Pharisaic party. The contest now becomes more decided and sharp, and we are rapidly nearing the period when He, Who had hitherto been chiefly preaching the Kingdom, and healing body and soul, will, through the hostility of the leaders of Israel, enter on the second, or prevailingly negative stage of His Work, in which, according to the prophetic description, ‘they compassed’ Him ‘about like bees,’ but ‘are quenched as the fire of thorns.’

Where fundamental principles were so directly contrary, the occasion for conflict could not be long wanting. Indeed, all that Jesus taught must have seemed to these Pharisees strangely un-Jewish in cast and direction, even if not in form and words. But chiefly would this be the-case in regard to that on which, of all else, the Pharisees laid most stress, the observance of the Sabbath. On no other subject is Rabbinic teaching more painfully minute and more manifestly incongruous to its professed object. For, if we rightly apprehend what underlay the complicated and intolerably burdensome laws and rules of Pharisaic Sabbath-observance it was to secure negatively, absolute rest from all labour, and, positively, to make the Sabbath a delight. The Mishnah includes Sabbath-desecration among those most heinous crimes for which a man was to be stoned. This, then, was their first care: by a series of complicated ordinances to make a breach of the Sabbath-rest impossible. How far this was carried, we shall presently see. The next object was, in a similarly external manner, to make the Sabbath a delight. A special Sabbath dress, the best that could be procured; the choicest food, even though a man had to work for it all the week, or public charity were to supply it – such were some of the means by which the day was to be honoured and men to find pleasure therein. The strangest stories are told, how, by the purchase of the most expensive dishes, the pious poor had gained unspeakable merit, and obtained, even on earth, Heaven’s manifest reward. And yet by the side of these and similar strange and sad misdirections of piety, we come also upon that which is touching, beautiful, and even spiritual. On the Sabbath there must be no mourning, for to the Sabbath applies this saying: ‘The blessing of the Lord, it maketh rich, and He addeth no sorrow with it.’ Quite alone was the Sabbath among the measures of time. Every other day had been paired with its fellow: not so the Sabbath. And so any festival, even the Day of Atonement, might be transferred to another day: not so the observance of the Sabbath. Nay, when the Sabbath complained before God, that of all days it alone stood solitary, God had wedded it to Israel; and this holy union God had bidden His people ‘remember,’ when it stood before the Mount. Even the tortures of Gehenna were intermitted on that holy, happy day.

The terribly exaggerated views on the Sabbath entertained by the, Rabbis, and the endless burdensome rules with which they encumbered everything connected with its sanctity, are fully set forth in another place. The Jewish Law, as there summarised, sufficiently explains the controversies in which the Pharisaic party now engaged with Jesus. Of these the first was when, going through the cornfields on the Sabbath, His disciples began to pluck and eat the ears of corn. Not, indeed, that this was the first Sabbath-controversy forced upon Christ. But it was the first time that Jesus allowed, and afterwards Himself did, in presence of the Pharisees, what was contrary to Jewish notions, and that, in express and unmistakable terms, He vindicated His position in regard to the Sabbath. This also indicates that we have now reached a further stage in the history of our Lord’s teaching.

This, however, is not the only reason for placing this event so late in the personal history of Christ. Matthew inserts it at a different period from the other two Synoptists; and although Mark and Luke introduce it amidst the same surroundings, the connection, in which it is told in all the three Gospels, shows that it is placed out of the historical order, with the view of grouping together what would exhibit Christ’s relation to the Pharisees and their teaching. Accordingly, this first Sabbath-controversy is immediately followed by that connected with the healing of the man with the withered hand. From Matthew and Mark it might, indeed, appear as if this had occurred on the same day as the plucking of the ears of corn, but Luke corrects any possible misunderstanding, by telling us that it happened ‘on another Sabbath’ – perhaps that following the walk through the cornfields.

Dismissing the idea of inferring the precise time of these two events from their place in the Evangelic record, we have not much difficulty in finding the needful historical data for our present inquiry. The first and most obvious is, that the harvest was still standing – whether that of barley or of wheat. The former began immediately after the Passover, the latter after the Feast of Pentecost; the presentation of the wave-omer of barley making the beginning of the one, that of the two wave-loaves that of the other. Here another historical notice comes to our aid. Luke describes the Sabbath of this occurrence as ‘the second-first’ – an expression so peculiar that it cannot be regarded as an interpolation, but as designedly chosen by the Evangelist to indicate something well understood in Palestine at the time. Bearing in mind the limited number of Sabbaths between the commencement of the barley and the end of the wheat-harvest, our inquiry is here much narrowed. In Rabbinic writings the term ‘second-first’ is not applied to any Sabbath. But we know that the fifty days between the Feast of Passover and that of Pentecost were counted from the presentation of the wave-omer on the Second Paschal Day, at the first, second, third day, etc., after the ‘Omer.’ Thus the ‘second-first’ Sabbath might be either ‘the first Sabbath after the second day,’ which was that of the presentation of the Omer, or else the second Sabbath after this first day of reckoning, or ‘Sephirah,’ as it was called (ספירת העמר). To us the first of these dates seems most in accord with the manner in which Luke would describe to Gentile readers the Sabbath which was ‘the first after the second,’ or, Sephirah-day.

Assuming, then, that it was probably the first – possibly, the second-Sabbath after the ‘reckoning,’ or second Paschal Day, on which the disciples plucked the ears of corn, we have still to ascertain whether it was in the first or second Passover of Christ’s Ministry. The reasons against placing it between the first Passover and Pentecost are of the strongest character. Not to speak of the circumstance that such advanced teaching on the part of Christ, and such advanced knowledge on the part of His disciples, indicate a later period, our Lord did not call His twelve Apostles till long after the Feast of Pentecost, viz. after His return from the so-called ‘Unknown Feast,’ which, as shown in another place, must have been either that of ‘Wood-Gathering,’ in the end of the summer, or else New Year’s Day, in the beginning of autumn. Thus, as by ‘the disciples’ we must in this connection understand, in the first place, ‘the Apostles,’ the event could not have occurred between the first Passover and Pentecost of the Lord’s Ministry.

The same result is reached by another process of reasoning. After the first Passover our Lord, with such of His disciples as had then gathered to Him, tarried for some time – no doubt for several weeks – in Judaea. The wheat was ripe for harvesting, when He passed through Samaria. And, on His return to Galilee, His disciples seem to have gone back to their homes and occupations, since it was some time afterwards when even His most intimate disciples – Peter, Andrew, James, and John – were called a second time. Chronologically, therefore, there is no room for this event between the first Passover and Pentecost. Lastly, we have here to bear in mind, that, on His first appearance in Galilee, the Pharisees had not yet taken up this position of determined hostility to Him. On the other hand, all agrees with the circumstance, that the active hostility of the Pharisees and Christ’s separation from the ordinances of the Synagogue commenced with His visit to Jerusalem in the early autumn of that year. If, therefore, we have to place the plucking of the ears or corn after the Feast recorded in Jn 5, as can scarcely be doubted, it must have taken place, not between the first, but between the Second Passover and Pentecost of Christ’s Public Ministry.

Another point deserves notice. The different ‘setting’ (chronologically speaking) in which the three Gospels present the event about to be related, illustrates that the object of the Evangelists was to present the events in the History of the Christ in their succession, not of time, but of bearing upon final results. This, because they do not attempt a Biography of Jesus, which, from their point of view, would have been almost blasphemy, but a History of the Kingdom which He brought; and because they write it, so to speak, not by adjectives (expressive of qualities), nor adverbially, but by substantives. Lastly, it will be noted that the three Evangelists relate the event about to be considered (as so many others), not, indeed, with variations, but with differences of detail, showing the independence of their narratives, which, as we shall see, really supplement each other.

We are now in a position to examine the narrative itself. It was on the Sabbath after the Second Paschal Day that Christ and His disciples passed – probably by a field-path – through cornfields, when His disciples, being hungry, as they went, plucked ears of corn and ate them, having rubbed off the husks in their hands. On any ordinary day this would have been lawful, but on the Sabbath it involved, according to Rabbinic statutes, at least two sins. For, according to the Talmud, what was really one labour, would, if made up of several acts, each of them forbidden, amount to several acts of labour, each involving sin, punishment, and a sin-offering.  This so-called ‘division’ of labour applied only to infringement of the Sabbath-rest – not of that of feast-days. Now in this case there were at least two such acts involved: that of plucking the ears of corn, ranged under the sin of reaping, and that of rubbing them, which might be ranged under sifting in a sieve, threshing, sifting out fruit, grinding, or fanning. The following Talmudic passage bears on this: ‘In case a woman rolls wheat to remove the husks, it is considered as sifting; if she rubs the heads of wheat, it is regarded as threshing; if she cleans off the side-adherences, it is sifting out fruit; if she bruises the ears, it is grinding; if she throws them up in her hand, it is winnowing.’ One instance will suffice to show the externalism of all these ordinances If a man wished to move a sheaf on his field, which of course implied labour, he had only to lay upon it a spoon that was in his common use, when, in order to remove the spoon, he might also remove the sheaf on which it lay! And yet it was forbidden to stop with a little wax the hole in a cask by which the fluid was running out, or to wipe a wound!

Holding views like these, the Pharisees, who witnessed the conduct of the disciples, would naturally harshly condemn, what they must have regarded as gross desecration of the Sabbath. Yet it was clearly not a breach of the Biblical, but of the Rabbinic Law. Not only to show them their error, but to lay down principles which would for ever apply to this difficult question, was the object of Christ’s reply. Unlike the others of the Ten Commandments, the Sabbath Law has in it two elements; the moral and the ceremonial: the eternal, and that which is subject to time and place; the inward and spiritual, and the outward (the one as the mode of realizing the other). In their distinction and separation lies the difficulty of the subject. In its spiritual and eternal element, the Sabbath Law embodied the two thoughts of rest for worship, and worship which pointed to rest. The keeping of the seventh day, and the Jewish mode of its observance, were the temporal and outward form in which these eternal principles were presented. Even Rabbinism, in some measure, perceived this. It was a principle, that danger to life superseded the Sabbath Law, and indeed all other obligations. Among the curious Scriptural and other arguments by which this principle was supported, that which probably would most appeal to common sense was derived from Lev_18:5. It was argued, that a man was to keep the commandments that he might live – certainly not, that by so doing he might die. In other words, the outward mode of observation was subordinate to the object of the observance. Yet this other and kindred principle did Rabbinism lay down, that every positive commandment superseded the Sabbath-rest. This was the ultimate vindication of work in the Temple, although certainly not its explanation. Lastly, we should in this connection, include this important canon, laid down by the Rabbis: ‘a single Rabbinic prohibition is not to be heeded, where a graver matter is in question.’

All these points must be kept in view for the proper understanding of the words of Christ to the Scribes. For, while going far beyond the times and notions of His questioners, His reasoning must have been within their comprehension. Hence the first argument of our Lord, as recorded by all the Synoptists, was taken from Biblical History. When, on his flight from Saul, David had, ‘when an hungered,’ eaten of the shewbread, and given it to his followers, although, by the letter of the Levitical Law, it was only to be eaten by the priests, Jewish tradition vindicated his conduct on the plea that ‘danger to life superseded the Sabbath-Law, and hence, all laws connected with it, while, to show David’s zeal for the Sabbath-Law, the legend was added, that he had reproved the priests of Nob, who had been baking the shewbread on the Sabbath. To the first argument of Christ, Matthew adds this as His second, that the priests, in their services in the Temple, necessarily broke the Sabbath-Law without thereby incurring guilt. It is curious, that the Talmud discusses this very point, and that, by way of illustration, it introduces an argument from Lev_22:10 : ‘There shall no stranger eat of things consecrated.’ This, of course, embodies the principle underlying the prohibition of the shewbread to all who were not priests. Without entering further on it, the discussion at least shows, that the Rabbis were by no means clear on the rationale of Sabbath-work in the Temple.

In truth, the reason why David was blameless in eating the shewbread was the same as that which made the Sabbath-labour of the priests lawful. The Sabbath-Law was not one merely of rest, but of rest for worship. The Service of the Lord was the object in view. The priests worked on the Sabbath, because this service was the object of the Sabbath; and David was allowed to eat of the shewbread, not because there was danger to life from starvation, but because he pleaded that he was on the service of the Lord and needed this provision. The disciples, when following the Lord, were similarly on the service of the Lord; ministering to Him was more than ministering in the Temple, for He was greater than the Temple. If the Pharisees had believed this, they would not have questioned their conduct, nor in so doing have themselves infringed that higher Law which enjoined mercy not sacrifice.

To this Mark adds as corollary: ‘The Sabbath was made for man, and not man for the Sabbath.’ It is remarkable, that a similar argument is used by the Rabbis. When insisting that the Sabbath Law should be set aside to avoid danger to life, it is urged: ‘the Sabbath is handed over to you; not, ye are handed over to the Sabbath.’ Lastly, the three Evangelists record this as the final outcome of His teaching on this subject, that ‘the Son of Man is Lord of the Sabbath also.’ The Service of God, and the Service of the Temple, by universal consent superseded the Sabbath-Law. But Christ was greater than the Temple, and His Service more truly that of God, and higher than that of the outward Temple – and the Sabbath was intended for man, to serve God: therefore Christ and His Service were superior to the Sabbath-Law. Thus much would be intelligible to these Pharisees, although they would not receive it, because they believed not on Him as the Sent of God. But to us the words mean more than this. They preach not only that the Service of Christ is that of God, but that, even more than in the Temple, all of work or of liberty is lawful which this service requires. We are free while we are doing anything for Christ; God loves mercy, and demands not sacrifice; His sacrifice is the service of Christ, in heart, and life, and work. We are not free to do anything we please; but we are free to do anything needful or helpful, while we are doing any service to Christ. He is the Lord of the Sabbath, Whom we serve in and through the Sabbath. And even this is significant, that, when designating Himself Lord of the Sabbath, it is as ‘the Son of Man.’ It shows, that the narrow Judaistic form regarding the day and the manner of observance is enlarged into the wider Law, which applies to all humanity. Under the New Testament the Sabbath has, as the Church, become Catholic, and its Lord is Christ as the Son of Man, to Whom the body Catholic offers the acceptable service of heart and life.

The question as between Christ and the Pharisees was not, however, to end here. ‘On another Sabbath’ – probably that following – He was in their Synagogue. Whether or not the Pharisees had brought ‘the man with the withered hand’ on purpose, or placed him in a conspicuous position, or otherwise raised the question, certain it is that their secret object was to commit Christ to some word or deed, which would lay Him open to the capital charge of breaking the Sabbath-law. It does not appear, whether the man with the withered hand was consciously or unconsciously their tool. But in this they judged rightly: that Christ would not witness disease without removing it – or, as we might express it, that disease could not continue in the Presence of Him, Who was the Life. He read their inward thoughts of evil, and yet he proceeded to do the good which He purposed. So God, in His majestic greatness, carries out the purpose which He has fixed – which we call the law of nature – whoever and whatever stand in the way; and so God, in His sovereign goodness, adapts it to the good of His creatures, notwithstanding their evil thoughts.

So much unclearness prevails as to the Jewish views about healing on the Sabbath, that some connected information on the subject seems needful. We have already seen, that in their view only actual danger to life warranted a breach of the Sabbath-Law. But this opened a large field for discussion. Thus, according to some, disease of the ear, according to some throat-disease, while according to others, such a disease as angina, involved danger, and superseded the Sabbath-Law. All applications to the outside of the body were forbidden on the Sabbath. As regarded internal remedies, such substances as were used in health, but had also a remedial effect, might be taken, although here also there was a way of evading the Law. A person suffering from toothache might not gargle his mouth with vinegar, but he might use an ordinary toothbrush and dip it in vinegar. The Gemara here adds, that gargling was lawful, if the substance was afterwards swallowed. It further explains, that affections extending from the lips, or else from the throat, inwards, may be attended to, being regarded as dangerous. Quite a number of these are enumerated, showing, that either the Rabbis were very lax in applying their canon about mortal diseases, or else that they reckoned in their number not a few which we would not regard as such. External lesions also might be attended to, if they involved danger to life. Similarly, medical aid might be called in, if a person had swallowed a piece of glass; a splinter might be removed from the eye, and even a thorn from the body.

But although the man with the withered hand could not be classed with those dangerously ill, it could not have been difficult to silence the Rabbis on their own admissions. Clearly, their principle implied, that it was lawful on the Sabbath to do that which would save life or prevent death. To have taught otherwise, would virtually have involved murder. But if so, did it not also, in strictly logical sequence imply this far wider principle, that it must be lawful to do good on the Sabbath? For, evidently, the omission of such good would have involved the doing of evil. Could this be the proper observance of God’s holy day? There was no answer to such an argument; Mark expressly records that they dared not attempt a reply. On the other hand, Matthew, while alluding to this terribly telling challenge, records yet another and a personal argument. It seems that Christ publicly appealed to them: If any poor man among them, who had one sheep, were in danger of losing it through having fallen into a pit, would he not lift it out? To be sure, the Rabbinic Law ordered that food and drink should be lowered to it, or else that some means should be furnished by which it might either be kept up in the pit, or enabled to come out of it. But even the Talmud discusses cases in which it was lawful to lift an animal out of a pit on a Sabbath. There could be no doubt, at any rate, that even if the Law was, at the time of Christ, as stringent as in the Talmud, a man would have found some device, by which to recover the solitary sheep which constituted his possession. And was not the life of a human being to be more accounted of? Surely, then, on the Sabbath-day it was lawful to do good? Yes – to do good, and to neglect it, would have been to do evil. Nay, according to their own admission, should not a man, on the Sabbath, save life? or should he, by omitting it, kill?

We can now imagine the scene in that Synagogue. The place is crowded. Christ probably occupies a prominent position as leading the prayers or teaching: a position whence He can see, and be seen by all. Here, eagerly bending forward, are the dark faces of the Pharisees, expressive of curiosity, malice, cunning. They are looking round at a man whose right hand is withered, perhaps putting him forward, drawing attention to him, loudly whispering, ‘Is it lawful to heal on the Sabbath-day?’ The Lord takes up the challenge. He bids the man stand forth – right in the midst of them, where they might all see and hear. By one of those telling appeals, which go straight to the conscience, He puts the analogous case of a poor man who was in danger of losing his only sheep on the Sabbath: would he not rescue it; and was not a man better than a sheep? Nay, did they not themselves enjoin a breach of the Sabbath-Law to save human life? Then, must He not do so; might He not do good rather than evil?

They were speechless. But a strange mixture of feeling was in the Saviour’s heart – strange to us, though it is but what Holy Scripture always tells us of the manner in which God views sin and the sinner, using terms, which, in their combination, seem grandly incompatible: ‘And when He had looked round about on them with anger, being grieved at the hardening of their heart.’ It was but for, a moment, and then, with life-giving power, He bade the man stretch forth his hand. Withered it was no longer, when the Word had been spoken, and a new sap, a fresh life had streamed into it, as, following the Saviour’s Eye and Word, he slowly stretched it forth. And as He stretched it forth, his hand was restored. The Saviour had broken their Sabbath-Law, and yet He had not broken it, for neither by remedy, nor touch, nor outward application had He healed him. He had broken the Sabbath-rest, as God breaks it, when He sends, or sustains, or restores life, or does good: all unseen and unheard, without touch or outward application, by the Word of His Power, by the Presence of His Life.

But who after this will say, that it was Paul who first introduced into the Church either the idea that the Sabbath-Law in its Jewish form was no longer binding, or this, that the narrow forms of Judaism were burst by the new wine of that Kingdom, which is that of the Son of Man?

They had all seen it, this miracle of almost new creation. As He did it, He had been filled with sadness: as they saw it, ‘they were filled with madness.’ So their hearts were hardened. They could not gainsay, but they went forth and took counsel with the Herodians against Him, how they might destroy Him. Presumably, then, He was within, or quite close by, the dominions of Herod, east of the Jordan. And the Lord withdrew once more, as it seems to us, into Gentile territory, probably that of the Decapolis. For, as He went about healing all, that needed it, in that great multitude that followed His steps, yet enjoining silence on them, this prophecy of Isaiah blazed into fulfilment: ‘Behold My Servant Whom I have chosen, My Beloved, in Whom My soul is well-pleased: I will put My Spirit upon Him, and He shall declare judgment to the Gentiles. He shall not strive nor cry aloud, neither shall any hear His Voice in the streets. A bruised reed shall He not break, and smoking flax shall He not quench, till He send forth judgment unto victory. And in His Name shall the Gentiles trust.’

And in His Name shall the Gentiles trust. Far out into the silence of those solitary upland hills of the Gentile world did the call, unheard and unheeded in Israel, travel. He had other sheep which were not of that fold. And down those hills, from the far-off lands, does the sound of the bells, as it comes nearer and nearer, tell that those other sheep, which are not of this fold, are gathering at His call to the Good Shepherd; and through these centuries, still louder and more manifold becomes this sound of nearing bells, till they shall all be gathered into one: one flock, one fold, one Shepherd.

(Mat 15:32-16:12; Mar 8:1-21)

They might well gather to Jesus in their thousands, with their wants of body and soul, these sheep wandering without a shepherd; for His Ministry in that district, as formerly in Galilee, was about to draw to a close. And here it is remarkable, that each time His prolonged stay and Ministry in a district were brought to a close with some supper, so to speak, some festive entertainment on his part. The Galilean Ministry had closed with the feeding of the five thousand, the guests being mostly from Capernaum and the towns around, as far as Bethsaida (Julias), many in the number probably on their way to the Paschal feast at Jerusalem. But now at the second provision for the four thousand, with which His Decapolis Ministry closed, the guests were not strictly Jews, but semi-Gentile inhabitants of that district and its neighbourhood. Lastly, his Judaean Ministry closed with the Last Supper. At the first ‘Supper,’ the Jewish guests would fain have proclaimed Him Messiah-King; at the second, as ‘the Son of Man,’ He gave food to those Gentile multitudes which having been with Him those days, and consumed all their victuals during their stay with him, He could not send away fasting, lest they should faint by the way. And on the last occasion, as the true Priest and Sacrifice, He fed His own with the true Paschal Feast, ere He sent them forth alone into the wilderness. Thus these three ‘Suppers’ seem connected, each leading up, as it were, to the other.

There can, at any rate, be little doubt that this second feeding of the multitude took place in the Gentile Decapolis, and that those who sat down to the meal were chiefly the inhabitants of that district. If it be lawful, departing from strict history, to study the symbolism of this event, as compared with the previous feeding of the five thousand who were Jews, somewhat singular differences will present themselves to the mind. On the former occasion there were five thousand fed with five loaves, when twelve baskets of fragments were left. On the second occasion, four thousand were fed from seven loaves, and seven baskets of fragments collected. It is at least curious, that the number five in the provision for the Jews is that of the Pentateuch, just as the number twelve corresponds to that of the tribes and of the Apostles. On the other hand, in the feeding of the Gentiles we mark the number four, which is the signature of the world, and seven, which is that of the Sanctuary. We would not by any means press it, as if these were, in the telling of the narrative, designed coincidences; but, just because they are undesigned, we value them, feeling that there is more of undesigned symbolism in all God’s manifestations – in nature, in history, and in grace – than meets the eye of those who observe the merely phenomenal. Nay, does it not almost seem, as if all things were cast in the mould of heavenly realities, and all earth’s ‘shewbread’ Bread of His Presence?

On all general points the narratives of the two-fold miraculous feeding run so parallel, that it is not necessary again to consider this event in detail. But the attendant circumstances are so different, that only the most reckless negative criticism could insist, that one and the same event had been presented by the Evangelists as two separate occasions. The broad lines of difference as to the number of persons, the provision, and the quantity of fragments left, cannot be overlooked. Besides, on the former occasion the repast was provided in the evening for those who had gone after Christ, and listened to Him all day, but who, in their eager haste, had come without victuals, when He would not dismiss them faint and hungry, because they had been so busy for the Bread of Life that they had forgotten that of earth. But on this second occasion, of the feeding of the Gentiles, the multitude had been three days with Him, and what sustenance they had brought must have failed, when, in His compassion, the Saviour would not send them to their homes fasting, lest they should faint by the way. This could not have befallen those Gentiles, who had come to the Christ for food to their souls. And, it must be kept in view, that Christ dismissed them, not, as before, because they would have made Him their King, but because Himself was about to depart from the place; and that, sending them to their homes, He could not send them to faint by the way. Yet another marked difference lies even in the designation of ‘the baskets’ in which the fragments left were gathered. At the first feeding, there were, as the Greek word shows, the small wicker-baskets which each of the Twelve would carry in his hand. At the second feeding they were the large baskets, in which provisions, chiefly bread, were stored or carried for longer voyages. For, on the first occasion, when they passed into Israelitish territory – and, as they might think, left their home for a very brief time – there was not the same need to make provision for storing necessaries as on the second, when they were on a lengthened journey, and passing through, or tarrying in Gentile territory.

But the most noteworthy difference seems to us this – that on the first occasion, they who were fed were Jews – on the second, Gentiles. There is an exquisite little trait in the narrative which affords striking, though utterly undesigned, evidence of it. In referring to the blessing which Jesus spake over the first meal, it was noted, that, in strict accordance with Jewish custom, He only rendered thanks once, over the bread. But no such custom would rule His conduct when dispensing the food to the Gentiles; and, indeed, His speaking the blessing only over the bread, while He was silent when distributing the fishes, would probably have given rise to misunderstanding. Accordingly, we find it expressly stated that He not only gave thanks over the broad, but also spake the blessing over the fishes. Nor should we, when marking such undesigned evidences, omit to notice, that on the first occasion, which was immediately before the Passover, the guests were, as three of the Evangelists expressly state, ranged on ‘the grass,’ while, on the present occasion, which must have been several weeks later, when in the East the grass would be burnt up, we are told by the two Evangelists that they sat on ‘the ground.’ Even the difficulty, raised by some, as to the strange repetition of the disciples’ reply, the outcome, in part, of non-expectancy, and, hence, non-belief, and yet in part also of such doubt as tends towards faith: ‘Whence should we have, in a solitary place, so many loaves as to fill so great a multitude?’ seems to us only confirmatory of the narrative, so psychologically true is it. There is no need for the ingenious apology, that, in the remembrance and tradition of the first and second feeding, the similarity of the two events had led to greater similarity in their narration than the actual circumstances would perhaps have warranted. Interesting thoughts are here suggested by the remark, that it is not easy to transport ourselves into the position and feelings of those who had witnessed such a miracle as that of the first feeding of the multitude. ‘We think of the Power as inherent, and, therefore, permanent. To them it might seem intermittent – a gift that came and went.’ And this might seem borne out by the fact that, ever since, their wants had been supplied in the ordinary way, and that, even on the first occasion, they had been directed to gather up the fragments of the heaven-supplied meal.

But more than this requires to be said. First, we must here once more remind ourselves, that the former provision was for Jews, and the disciples might, from their standpoint, well doubt, or at least not assume, that the same miracle would supply the need of the Gentiles, and the same board be surrounded by Jew and Gentile. But, further, the repetition of the same question by the disciples really indicated only a sense of their own inability, and not a doubt of the Saviour’s power of supply, since on this occasion it was not, as on the former, accompanied by a request on their part, to send the multitude away. Thus the very repetition of the question might be a humble reference to the past, of which they dared not, in the circumstances, ask the repetition.

Yet, even if it were otherwise, the strange forgetfulness of Christ’s late miracle on the part of the disciples, and their strange repetition of the self-same question which had once – and, as it might seem to us, for ever – been answered by wondrous deed, need not surprise us. To them the miraculous on the part of Christ must ever have been the new, or else it would have ceased to be the miraculous. Nor did they ever fully realise it, till after His Resurrection they understood, and worshipped Him as God Incarnate. And it is only realising faith of this, which it was intended gradually to evolve during Christ’s Ministry on earth, that enables us to apprehend the Divine Help as, so to speak, incarnate and ever actually present in Christ. And yet even thus, how often we do, who have so believed in Him, forget the Divine provision which has come to us so lately, and repeat, though perhaps not with the same doubt, yet with the same want of certainty, the questions with which we had at first met the Saviour’s challenge of our faith. And even at the last it is met, as by the prophet, in sight of the apparently impossible, by: ‘Lord, Thou knowest.’ More frequently, alas! is it met by non-belief, misbelief, disbelief, or doubt, engendered by misunderstanding or forgetfulness of that which past experience, as well as the knowledge of Him, should long ago have indelibly written on our minds.

On the occasion referred to in the preceding narrative, those who had lately taken counsel together against Jesus – the Pharisees and the Herodians, or, to put it otherwise, the Pharisees and Sadducees – were not present. For, those who, politically speaking, were ‘Herodians,’ might also, though perhaps not religiously speaking, yet from the Jewish standpoint of Matthew, be designated as, or else include, Sadducees. But they were soon to reappear on the scene, as Jesus came close to the Jewish territory of Herod. We suppose the feeding of the multitude to have taken place in the Decapolis, and probably on, or close to, the Eastern shore of the Lake of Galilee. As Jesus sent away the multitude whom He had fed, He took ship with His disciples, and ‘came into the borders of Magadan,’  or, as Mark puts it, ‘the parts of Dalmanutha.’ ‘The borders of Magadan’ must evidently refer to the same district as ‘the parts of Dalmanutha.’ The one may mark the extreme point of the district southwards, the other northwards – or else, the points west and east – in the locality where He and His disciples landed. This is, of course, only a suggestion, since neither ‘Magadan,’ nor ‘Dalmanutha,’ has been identified. This only we infer, that the place was close to, yet not within the boundary of, strictly Jewish territory; since on His arrival there the Pharisees are said to ‘come forth’ – a word ‘which implies, that they resided elsewhere,’ though, of course, in the neighbourhood. Accordingly, we would seek Magadan south of the Lake of Tiberias, and near to the borders of Galilee, but within the Decapolis. Several sites bear at present somewhat similar names. In regard to the strange and un-Jewish name of Dalmanutha, such utterly unlikely conjectures have been made, that one based on etymology may be hazarded. If we take from Dalmanutha the Aramaic termination -uṯa, and regard the initial de as a prefix, we have the word laman, limin, or liminah (למן, or למין, or לַמינה = λιμήν), which, in Rabbinic Hebrew, means a bay, or port, and Dalmanutha might have been the place of a small bay. Possibly, it was the name given to the bay close to the ancient tariḥaea, the modern Kerak, so terribly famous for a sea-fight, or rather a horrible butchery of poor fugitives, when Tarichaea was taken by the Romans in the great Jewish war. Close by, the Lake forms a bay (laman), and if, as a modern writer asserts, the fortress of Tarichaea was surrounded by a ditch fed by the Jordan and the Lake, so that the fortress could be converted into an island, we see additional reason for the designation of lamanuṯa. It was from the Jewish territory of Galilee, close by, that the Pharisees now came ‘with the Sadducees’ tempting Him with questions, and desiring that His claims should be put to the ultimate arbitrament of ‘a sign from heaven.’ We can quite understand such a challenge on the part of Sadducees, who would disbelieve the heavenly Mission of Christ, or, indeed, to use a modern term, any supra-naturalistic connection between heaven and earth. But, in the mouth of the Pharisees also, it had a special meaning. Certain supposed miracles had been either witnessed by, or testified to them, as done by Christ. As they now represented it – since Christ laid claims which, in their view, were inconsistent with the doctrine received in Israel, preached a Kingdom quite other than that of Jewish expectancy – was at issue with all Jewish customs – more than this, was a breaker of the Law, in its most important commandments, as they understood them – it followed that, according to Dt 13, He was a false prophet, who was not to be listened to. Then, also, must the miracles which He did have been wrought by the power of Beelzebul, ‘the lord of idolatrous worship,’ the very prince of devils. But had there been real signs, and might it not all have been an illusion? Let Him show them ‘a sign,’ and let that sign come direct from heaven!

Two striking instances from Rabbinic literature will show, that this demand of the Pharisees was in accordance with their notions and practice. We read that, when a certain Rabbi was asked by his disciples about the time of Messiah’s Coming, he replied: ‘I am afraid that you will also ask me for a sign.’ When they promised they would not do so, he told them that the gate of Rome would fall and be rebuilt, and fall again, when there would not be time to restore it, ere the Son of David came. On this they pressed him, despite his remonstrance, for ‘a sign,’ when this was given them – that the waters which issued from the cave of Pamias were turned into blood.  Again, as regards ‘a sign from heaven,’ it is said that Rabbi Eliezer, when his teaching was challenged, successively appealed to certain ‘signs.’ First, a locust-tree moved at his bidding one hundred, or, according to some, four hundred cubits. Next, the channels of water were made to flow backwards; then the walls of the Academy leaned forward, and were only arrested at the bidding of another Rabbi. Lastly, Eliezer exclaimed: ‘If the Law is as I teach, let it be proved from heaven!’ when a voice fell from the sky (the baṯ qol): ‘What have ye to do with Rabbi Eliezer, for the Halakhah is as he teaches?’

It was, therefore, no strange thing when the Pharisees asked of Jesus ‘a sign from heaven,’ to attest His claims and teaching. The answer which He gave was among the most solemn which the leaders of Israel could have heard, and He spake it in deep sorrow of spirit. They had asked Him virtually for some sign of His Messiahship; some striking vindication from heaven of His claims. It would be given them only too soon. We have already seen, that there was a Coming of Christ in His Kingdom – a vindication of His kingly claim before His apostate rebellious subjects, when they who would not have Him to reign over them, but betrayed and crucified Him, would have their commonwealth and city, their polity and Temple, destroyed. By the lurid light of the flames of Jerusalem and the Sanctuary were the words on the cross to be read again. God would vindicate His claims by laying low the pride of their rebellion. The burning of Jerusalem was God’s answer to the Jews’ cry, ‘Away with Him – we have no king but Caesar;’ the thousands of crosses on which the Romans hanged their captives, the terrible counterpart of the Cross on Golgotha.

It was to this, that Jesus referred in His reply to the Pharisees and ‘Sadducean’ Herodians. How strange! Men could discern by the appearance of the sky whether the day would be fair or stormy. And yet, when all the signs of the gathering storm, that would destroy their city and people, were clearly visible, they, the leaders of the people, failed to perceive them ‘Israel asked for ‘a sign!’ ‘No sign should be given the doomed land and city other than that which had been given to Nineveh: ‘the sign of Jonah.’ The only sign to Nineveh was Jonah’s solemn warning of near judgment, and his call to repentance – and the only sign now, or rather ‘unto this generation no sign,’ was the warning cry of judgment and the loving call to repentance. It was but a natural, almost necessary, sequence, that ‘He left them and departed.’ Once more the ship, which bore Him and His disciples, spread its sails towards the coast of Bethsaida-Julias. He was on His way to the utmost limit of the land, to Caesarea Philippi, in pursuit of His purpose to delay the final conflict. For the great crisis must begin, as it would end, in Jerusalem, and at the Feast; it would begin at the Feast of Tabernacles, and it would end at the following Passover. But by the way, the disciples themselves showed how little even they, who had so long and closely followed Christ, understood His teaching, and how prone to misapprehension their spiritual dulness rendered them. Yet it was not so gross and altogether incomprehensible, as the common reading of what happened would imply.

When the Lord touched the other shore, His mind and heart were still full of the scene from which He had lately passed. For truly, on this demand for a sign did the future of Israel seem to hang. Perhaps it is not presumptuous to suppose, that the journey across the Lake had been made in silence on His part, so deeply were mind and heart engrossed with the fate of His own royal city. And now, when they landed, they carried ashore the empty provision-baskets; for, as, with his usual attention to details, Mark notes, they had only brought one loaf of bread with them. In fact, in the excitement and hurry ‘they forgot to take bread’ with them. Whether or not something connected with this arrested the attention of Christ, He at last broke the silence, speaking that which was so much on His mind. He warned them, as greatly they needed it, of the leaven with which Pharisees and Sadducees had, each in their own manner, leavened, and so corrupted, the holy bread of Scripture truth. The disciples, aware that in their hurry and excitement they had forgotten bread, misunderstood these words of Christ – although not in the utterly unaccountable manner which commentators generally suppose: as implying ‘a caution against procuring bread from His enemies.’ It is well-nigh impossible, that the disciples could have understood the warning of Christ as meaning any such thing – even irrespective of the consideration, that a prohibition to buy bread from either the Pharisees or Sadducees would have involved an impossibility. The misunderstanding of the disciples was, if unwarrantable, at least rational. They thought the words of Christ implied, that in His view they had not forgotten to bring bread, but purposely omitted to do so, in order, like the Pharisees and Sadducees, to ‘seek of Him a sign’ of His Divine Messiahship – nay, to oblige Him to show such – that of miraculous provision in their want. The mere suspicion showed what was in their minds, and pointed to their danger. This explains how, in His reply, Jesus reproved them, not for utter want of discernment, but only for ‘little faith.’ It was their lack of faith – the very leaven of the Pharisees and Sadducees – which had suggested such a thought. Again, if the experience of the past – their own twice-repeated question, and the practical answer which it had received in the miraculous provision of not only enough, but to spare – had taught them anything, it should have been to believe, that the needful provision of their wants by Christ was not ‘a sign,’ such as the Pharisees had asked, but what faith might ever expect from Christ, when following after, or waiting upon, Him. Then understood they truly, that it was not of the leaven of bread that He had bidden them beware – that His mysterious words bore no reference to bread, nor to their supposed omission to bring it for the purpose of eliciting a sign from Him, but pointed to the far more real danger of ‘the teaching of the Pharisees and Sadducees,’ which had underlain the demand for a sign from heaven.

Here, as always, Christ rather suggests than gives the interpretation of His meaning. And this is the law of His teaching. Our modern Pharisees and Sadducees, also, too often ask of him a sign from heaven in evidence of His claims. And we also too often misunderstand His warning to us concerning their leaven. Seeing the scanty store in our basket, our little faith is busy with thoughts about possible signs in multiplying the one loaf which we have, forgetful that, where Christ is, faith may ever expect all that is needful, and that our care should only be in regard to the teaching which might leaven and corrupt that on which our souls are fed.

(Mat 16:13-28; Mar 8:27-9:1; Luk_9:18-27)

If we are right in identifying the little bay – Dalmanutha – with the neighbourhood of Tarichaea, yet another link of strange coincidence connects the prophetic warning spoken there with its fulfilment. From Dalmanutha our Lord passed across the Lake to Caesarea Philippi. From Caesarea Philippi did Vespasian pass through Tiberias to Tarichaea, when the town and people were destroyed, and the blood of the fugitives reddened the Lake, and their bodies choked its waters. Even amidst the horrors of the last Jewish war, few spectacles could have been so sickening as that of the wild stand at Tarichaea, ending with the butchery of 6,500 on land and sea, and lastly, the vile treachery by which they, to whom mercy had been promised, were lured into the circus at Tiberias, when the weak and old, to the number of about 1,200, were slaughtered, and the rest – upwards of 30,400 – sold into slavery.  Well might He, Who foresaw and foretold that terrible end, standing on that spot, deeply sigh in spirit as He spake to them who asked ‘a sign,’ and yet saw not what even ordinary discernment might have perceived of the red and lowering sky overhead. From Dalmanutha, across the Lake, then by the plain where so lately the five thousand had been fed, and near to Bethsaida, would the road of Christ and His disciples lead to the capital of the Tetrarch Philip, the ancient Paneas, or, as it was then called, Caesarea Philippi, the modern Banias. Two days’ journey would accomplish the whole distance. There would be no need of taking the route now usually followed, by Safed. Straight northwards from the Lake of Galilee, a distance of about ten miles, leads the road to the uppermost Jordan-Lake, that now called huleh, the ancient Merom. As we ascend front the shores of Gennesaret, we have a receding view of the whole Lake and the Jordan-valley beyond. Before us rise hills; over them, to the west, are the heights of Safed; beyond them swells the undulating plain between the two ranges of Anti-Libanus far off is Hermon, with its twin snow-clad heads (‘the Hermons’), and, in the dim far background, majestic Lebanon. It is scarcely likely, that Jesus and His disciples skirted the almost impenetrable marsh and jungle by Lake Merom. It was there, that Joshua had fought the last and decisive battle against Jabin and his confederates, by which Northern Palestine was gained to Israel. We turn north of the Lake, and west to Kedes, the Kedesh Naphtali of the Bible, the home of Barak. We have now passed from the limestone of Central Palestine into the dark basalt formation. How splendidly that ancient Priest-City of Refuge lay! In the rich heritage of Naphtali, Kedesh was one of the fairest spots. As we climb the steep hill above the marshes of Merom, we have before us one of the richest plains of about two thousand acres. We next pass through olive-groves and up a gentle slope. On a knoll before us, at the foot of which gushes a copious spring, lies the ancient Kedesh.

The scenery is very similar, as we travel on towards Caesarea Philippi. About an hour and a half farther, we strike the ancient Roman road. We are now amidst vines and mulberry-trees. Passing through a narrow rich valley, we ascend through a rocky wilderness of hills, where the woodbine luxuriantly trails around the plane-trees. On the height there is a glorious view back to Lake Merom and the Jordan-valley; forward, to the snowy peaks of Hermon; east, to height on height, and west, to peaks now only crowned with ruins. We still continued along the height, then descended a steep slope, leaving, on our left, the ancient Abel beṯ maaḥah, the modern Abil. Another hour, and we are in a plain where all the springs of the Jordan unite. The view from here is splendid, and the soil most rich, the wheat crops being quite ripe in the beginning of May. Half an hour more, and we cross a bridge over the bright blue waters of the Jordan, or rather of the Hasbany, which, under a very wilderness of oleanders, honeysuckle, clematis, and wild rose, rush among huge boulders, between walls of basalt. We leave aside, at a distance of about half an hour to the east, the ancient Dan (the modern Tell-Kady), even more glorious in its beauty and richness than what we have passed. Dan lies on a hill above the plain. On the western side of it, under overhanging thickets of oleander and other trees, and amidst masses of basalt boulders, rise what are called ‘the lower springs’ of Jordan, issuing as a stream from a basin sixty paces wide, and from a smaller source close by. The ‘lower springs’ supply the largest proportion of what forms the Jordan. And from Dan olive-groves and oak-glades slope up to Banias, or Caesarea Philippi.

The situation of the ancient Caesarea Philippi (1,147 feet above the sea) is, indeed, magnificent. Nestling amid three valleys on a terrace in the angle of Hermon, it is almost shut out from view by cliffs and woods. ‘Everywhere there is a wild medley of cascades, mulberry trees, fig-trees, dashing torrents, festoons of vines, bubbling fountains, reeds, and ruins, and the mingled music of birds and waters.’ The vegetation and fertility all around are extraordinary. The modern village of Banias is within the walls of the old fortifications, and the ruins show that it must anciently have extended far southwards. But the most remarkable points remain to be described. The western side of a steep mountain, crowned by the ruins of an ancient castle, forms an abrupt rock-wall. Here, from out an immense cavern, bursts a river. These are ‘the upper sources’ of the Jordan. This cave, an ancient heathen sanctuary of Pan, gave its earliest name of Paneas to the town. Here Herod, when receiving the tetrarchy from Augustus, built a temple in his honour. On the rocky wall close by, votive niches may still be traced, one of them bearing the Greek inscription, ‘Priest of Pan.’ When Herod’s son, Philip, received the tetrarchy, he enlarged and greatly beautified the ancient Paneas, and called it in honour of the Emperor, Caesarea Philippi. The castle-mount (about l,000 feet above Paneas), takes nearly an hour to ascend, and is separated by a deep valley from the flank of Mount Hermon. The castle itself (about two miles from Banias) is one of the best preserved ruins, its immense bevelled structure resembling the ancient forts of Jerusalem, and showing its age. It followed the irregularities of the mountain, and was about 1,000 feet long by 200 wide. The eastern and higher part formed, as in Machaerus, a citadel within the castle. In some parts the rock rises higher than the walls. The views, sheer down the precipitous sides of the mountain, into the valleys and far away, are magnificent.

It seems worth while, even at such length, to describe the scenery along this journey, and the look and situation of Caesarea, when we recall the importance of the events enacted there, or in the immediate neighbourhood. It was into this chiefly Gentile district, that the Lord now withdrew with His disciples after that last and decisive question of the Pharisees. It was here that, as His question, like Moses’ rod, struck their hearts, there leaped from the lips of Peter the living, life-spreading waters of his confession. It may have been, that this rock-wall below the castle, from under which sprang Jordan, or the rock on which the castle stood, supplied the material suggestion for Christ’s words: ‘Thou art Peter, and on this rock will I build My Church.’ In Caesarea, or its immediate neighbourhood, did the Lord spend, with His disciples, six days after this confession; and here, close by, on one of the heights of snowy Hermon, was the scene of the Transfiguration, the light of which shone forever into the hearts of the disciples on their dark and tangled path; nay, far beyond that – beyond life and death – beyond the grave and the judgment, to the perfect brightness of the Resurrection-day.

As we think of it, there seems nothing strange in it, but all most wise and most gracious, that such events should have taken place far away from Galilee and Israel, in the lonely grandeur of the shadows of Hermon, and even amongst a chiefly Gentile population. Not in Judaea, nor even in Galilee – but far away from the Temple, the Synagogue, the Priests, Pharisees and Scribes, was the first confession of the Church made, and on this confession its first foundations laid. Even this spoke of near judgment and doom to what had once been God’s chosen congregation. And all that happened, though Divinely shaped as regards the end, followed in a natural and orderly succession of events. Let us briefly recall the circumstances, which in the previous chapters have been described in detail.

It had been needful to leave Capernaum. The Galilean Ministry of the Christ was ended, and, alike the active persecutions of the Pharisees from Jerusalem, the inquiries of Herod, whose hands, stained with the blood of the Baptist, were tremblingly searching for his greater Successor, and the growing indecision and unfitness of the people – as well as the state of the disciples – pointed to the need for leaving Galilee. Then followed ‘the Last Supper’ to Israel on the eastern shore of Lake Gennesaret, when they would have made Him a King. He must now withdraw quite away, out of the boundaries of Israel. Then came that miraculous night journey, the brief Sabbath-stay at Capernaum by the way, the journey through Tyrian and Sidonian territory, and round to the Decapolis, the teaching and healing there, the gathering of the multitude to Him, together with that ‘Supper,’ which closed His Ministry there – and, finally, the withdrawal to Tarichaea, where His Apostles, as fishermen of the Lake, may have had business-connections, since the place was the great central depot for selling and preparing the fish for export.

In that distant and obscure corner, on the boundary-line between Jew and Gentile, had that greatest crisis in the history of the world occurred, which sealed the doom of Israel, and in their place substituted the Gentiles as citizens of the Kingdom. And, in this respect also, it is most significant, that the confession of the Church likewise took place in territory chiefly inhabited by Gentiles, and the Transfiguration on Mount Hermon. That crisis had been the public challenge of the Pharisees and Sadducees, that Jesus should legitimate His claims to the Messiahship by a sign from heaven. It is not too much to assert, that neither His questioners, nor even His disciples, understood the answer of Jesus, nor yet perceived the meaning of His ‘sign.’ To the Pharisees Jesus would seem to have been defeated, and to stand self-convicted of having made Divine claims which, when challenged, He could not substantiate. He had hitherto elected (as they, who understood not His teaching, would judge) to prove Himself the Messiah by the miracles which He had wrought – and now, when met on His own ground, He had publicly declined, or at least evaded, the challenge. He had conspicuously – almost self-confessedly – failed! At least, so it would appear to those who could not understand His reply and ‘sign.’ We note that a similar final challenge was addressed to Jesus by the High-Priest, when he adjured Him to say, whether He was what He claimed. His answer then was an assertion – not a proof; and, unsupported as it seemed, His questioners would only regard it as blasphemy.

But what of the disciples, who (as we have seen) would probably understand ‘the sign’ of Christ little better than the Pharisees? That what might seem Christ’s failure, in not daring to meet the challenge of His questioners, must have left some impression on them, is not only natural, but appears even from Christ’s warning of the leaven – that is, of the teaching of the Pharisees and Sadducees. Indeed, that this unmet challenge and virtual defeat of Jesus did make lasting and deepest impression in His disfavour, is evident from the later challenge of His own relatives to go and meet the Pharisees at headquarters in Judaea, and to show openly, if He could, by His works, that He was the Messiah. All the more remarkable appears Christ’s dealing with His disciples, His demand on, and training of their faith. It must be remembered, that His last ‘hard’ sayings at Capernaum had led to the defection of many, who till then had been His disciples. Undoubtedly this had already tried their faith, as appears from the question of Christ: ‘Will Ye also go away?’ It was this wise and gracious dealing with them – this putting the one disappointment of doubt, engendered by what they could not understand, against their whole past experience in following Him, which enabled them to overcome. And it is this which also enables us to answer the doubt, perhaps engendered by inability to understand seemingly unintelligible, hard sayings of Christ, such as that to the disciples about giving them His Flesh to eat, or about His being the Living Bread from heaven. And, this alternative being put to them: would they, could they, after their experience of Him, go away from Him, they overcame, as we overcome, through what almost sounds like a cry of despair, yet is a shout of victory: ‘Lord, to whom shall we go? Thou hast the words of eternal life.’

And all that followed only renewed and deepened the trial of faith, which had commenced at Capernaum. We shall, perhaps, best understand it when following the progress of this trial in him who, at last, made shipwreck of his faith: Judas Iscariot. Without attempting to gaze into the mysterious abyss of the Satanic element in his apostasy, we may trace his course in its psychological development. We must not regard Judas as a monster, but as one with passions like ourselves. True, there was one terrible master-passion in his soul – covetousness; but that was only the downward, lower aspect of what seems, and to many really is, that which leads to the higher and better – ambition. It had been thoughts of Israel’s King which had first set his imagination on fire, and brought him to follow the Messiah. Gradually, increasingly, came the disenchantment. It was quite another Kingdom, that of Christ; quite another Kingship than what had set Judas aglow. This feeling was deepened as events proceeded. His confidence must have been terribly shaken when the Baptist was beheaded. What a contrast to the time when his voice had bent the thousands of Israel, as trees in the wind! So this had been nothing – and the Baptist must be written off, not as for, but as really against, Christ. Then came the next disappointment, when Jesus would not be made King. Why not – if He were King? And so on, step by step, till the final depth was reached, when Jesus would not, or could not – which was it? – meet the public challenge of the Pharisees. We take it, that it was then that the leaven pervaded and leavened Judas in heart and soul.

We repeat it, that what so, and permanently, penetrated Judas, could not (as Christ’s warning shows) have left the others wholly unaffected. The very presence of Judas with them must have had its influence. And how did Christ deal with it? There was, first, the silent sail across the Lake, and then the warning which put them on their guard, lest the little leaven should corrupt the bread of the Sanctuary, on which they had learned to live. The littleness of their faith must be corrected; it must grow and become strong. And so we can understand what follows. It was after solitary prayer – no doubt for them – that, with reference to the challenge of the Pharisees, ‘the leaven’ that threatened them, He now gathered up all their experience of the past by putting to them the question, what men, the people who had watched His Works and heard His Words, regarded Him as being. Even on them some conviction had been wrought by their observance of Him. It marked Him out (as the disciples said) as different from all around, nay, from all ordinary men: like the Baptist, or Elijah, or as if He were one of the old prophets alive again. But, if even the multitude had gathered such knowledge of Him, what was their experience, who had always been with Him? Answered he, who most truly represented the Church, because he combined with the most advanced experience of the three most intimate disciples the utmost boldness of confession: ‘Thou art the Christ!’

And so in part was this ‘leaven’ of the Pharisees purged! Yet not wholly. For then it was, that Christ spake to them of His sufferings and death, and that the resistance of Peter showed how deeply that leaven had penetrated. And then followed the grand contrast presented by Christ, between minding the things of men and those of God, with the warning which it implied and the monition as to the necessity of bearing the cross of contempt, and the absolute call to do so, as addressed to those who would be His disciples. Here, then, the contest about ‘the sign,’ or rather the challenge about the Messiahship, was carried from the mental into the moral sphere, and so decided. Six days more of quiet waiting and growth of faith, and it was met, rewarded, crowned, and perfected by the sight on the Mount of Transfiguration; yet, even so, perceived only as through the heaviness of sleep.

Thus far for the general arrangement of these events. We shall now be prepared better to understand the details. It was certainly not for personal reasons, but to call attention to the impression made even on the popular mind, to correct its defects, and to raise the minds of the Apostles to far higher thoughts, that He asked them about the opinions of men concerning Himself. Their difference proved not only their incompetence to form a right view, but also how many-sided Christ’s teaching must have been. We are probably correct in supposing, that popular opinion did not point to Christ as literally the Baptist, Elijah, Jeremiah, or one of the other prophets who had long been dead. For, although the literal reappearance of Elijah, and probably also of Jeremiah, was expected, the Pharisees did not teach, nor the Jews believe in, a transmigration of souls. Besides, no one looked for the return of any of the other old prophets, nor could any one have seriously imagined, that Jesus was, literally, John the Baptist, since all knew them to have been contemporaries. Rather would it mean, that some saw in Him the continuation of the work of John, as heralding and preparing the way of the Messiah, or, if they did not believe in John, of that of Elijah; while to others He seemed a second Jeremiah, denouncing woe on Israel, and calling to tardy repentance; or else one of those old prophets, who had spoken either of the near judgment or of the coming glory. But, however men differed on these points, in this all agreed, that they regarded Him not as an ordinary man or teacher, but His Mission as straight from heaven; and, alas, in this also, that they did not view Him as the Messiah. Thus far, then, there was already retrogression in popular opinion, and thus far had the Pharisees already succeeded.

There is a significant emphasis in the words, with which Jesus turned from the opinion of ‘the multitudes’ to elicit the faith of the disciples: ‘But you, whom do you say that I am?’ It is the more marked, as the former question was equally emphasised by the use of the article (in the original): ‘Who do the men say that I am? In that moment it leaped, by the power of God, to the lips of Peter: ‘Thou art the Christ (the Messiah), the Son of the Living God.’ Chrysostom has beautifully designated Peter as ‘the mouth of the Apostles’ – and we recall, in this connection, the words of Paul as casting light on the representative character of Peter’s confession as that of the Church, and hence on the meaning of Christ’s reply, and its equally representative application: ‘With the mouth confession is made unto salvation.’ The words of the confession are given somewhat differently by the three Evangelists. From our standpoint, the briefest form (that of Mark): ‘Thou art the Christ,’ means quite as much as the fullest (that of Matthew): ‘Thou art the Christ, the Son of the Living God.’ We can thus understand, how the latter might be truthfully adopted, and, indeed, would be the most truthful, accurate, and suitable in a Gospel primarily written for the Jews. And here we notice, that the most exact form of the words seems that in the Gospel of Luke: ‘The Christ of God.’

In saying this, so far from weakening, we strengthen the import of this glorious confession. For first, we must keep in view, that the confession: ‘Thou art the Messiah’ is also that: ‘Thou art the Son of the Living God.’ If, according to the Gospels, we believe that Jesus was the true Messiah, promised to the fathers – ‘the Messiah of God’ – we cannot but believe that He is ‘the Son of the Living God.’ Scripture and reason equally point to this conclusion from the premisses. But, further, we must view such a confession, even though made in the power of God, in its historical connection. The words must have been such as Peter could have uttered, and the disciples acquiesced in, at the time. Moreover, they should mark a distinct connection with, and yet progress upon, the past. All these conditions are fulfilled by the view here taken. The full knowledge, in the sense of really understanding, that He was the Son of the Living God, came to the disciples only after the Resurrection. Previously to the confession of Peter, the ship’s company, that had witnessed His walking on the water, had owned: ‘Of a truth Thou art the Son of God,’ but not in the sense in which a well-informed, believing Jew would hail Him as the Messiah, and ‘the Son of the Living God,’ designating both His Office and His Nature – and these two in their combination. Again, Peter himself had made a confession of Christ, when, after his discourse at Capernaum, so many of His disciples had forsaken Him. It had been: ‘We have believed, and know that Thou art the Holy One of God.’  The mere mention of these words shows both their internal connection with those of his last and crowning confession: ‘Thou art the Christ of God,’ and the immense progress made.

The more closely we view it, the loftier appears the height of this confession. We think of it as an advance on Peter’s past; we think of it in its remembered contrast to the late challenge of the Pharisees, and as so soon following on the felt danger of their leaven. And we think of it, also, in its almost immeasurable distance from the appreciative opinion of the better disposed among the people. In the words of this confession Peter has consciously reached the firm ground of Messianic acknowledgment. All else is implied in this, and would follow from it. It is the first real confession of the Church. We can understand, how it followed after solitary prayer by Christ – we can scarcely doubt, for that very revelation by the Father, which He afterwards joyously recognised in the words of Peter.

The reply of the Saviour is only recorded by Matthew. Its omission by Mark might be explained on the ground that Peter himself had furnished the information. But its absence there and in the Gospel of Luke proves (as Beza remarks), that it could never have been intended as the foundation of so important a doctrine as that of the permanent supremacy of Peter. But even if it were such, it would not follow that this supremacy devolved on the successors of Peter, nor yet that the Pope of Rome is the successor of Peter; nor is there even solid evidence that Peter ever was Bishop of Rome. The dogmatic inferences from a certain interpretation of the words of Christ to Peter being therefore utterly untenable, we can, with less fear of bias, examine their meaning. The whole form here is Hebraistic. The ‘blessed art thou’ is Jewish in spirit and form; the address, ‘Simon bar Jona,’ proves that the Lord spake in Aramaic. Indeed, a Jewish Messiah responding, in the hour of his Messianic acknowledgment, in Greek to His Jewish confessor, seems utterly incongruous. Lastly, the expression ‘flesh and blood,’ as contrasted with God, occurs not only in that Apocryphon of strictly Jewish authorship, the Wisdom of the Son of Sirach, and in the letters of Paul, but in almost innumerable passages in Jewish writings, as denoting man in opposition to God; while the revelation of such a truth by ‘the Father Which is in Heaven,’ represents not only both Old and New Testament teaching, but is clothed in language familiar to Jewish ears (אָבִינוּ שֶׁכַּשָּׁמַיִם).

Not less Jewish in form are the succeeding words of Christ, ‘Thou art Peter (Petros), and upon this rock (Petra) will I build my Church.’ We notice in the original the change from the masculine gender, ‘Peter’ (Petros), to the feminine, ‘Petra’ (‘Rock’), which seems the more significant, that Petros is used in Greek for ‘stone,’ and also sometimes for ‘rock,’ while Petra always means a ‘rock.’ The change of gender must therefore have a definite object which will presently be more fully explained. Meantime we recall that, when Peter first came to Christ, the Lord had said unto him: ‘Thou shalt be called Cephas, which is, by interpretation, Peter [Petros, a Stone, or else a Rock]’ – the Aramaic word kep̱a (כֵּיפָא, or כִיפָה) meaning, like Peter, both ‘stone’ and ‘rock.’ But both the Greek Petros and Petra have (as already stated) passed into Rabbinic language. Thus, the name Peter, or rather Petros, is Jewish, and occurs, for example, as that of the father of a certain Rabbi (José bar Petros). When the Lord, therefore, prophetically gave the name Cephas, it may have been that by that term He gave only a prophetic interpretation to what had been his previous name Peter (פּייטרס). This seems the more likely, since, as we have previously seen, it was the practice in Galilee to have two names, especially when the strictly Jewish name, such as Simon, had no equivalent among the Gentiles. Again, the Greek word Petra – Rock – (‘on this Petra [Rock] will I build my Church’) was used in the same sense in Rabbinic language. It occurs twice in a passage, which so fully illustrates the Jewish use, not only of the word, but of the whole figure, that it deserves a place here. According to Jewish ideas, the world would not have been created, unless it had rested, as it were, on some solid foundation of piety and acceptance of God’s Law – in other words, it required a moral, before it could receive a physical foundation. Rabbinism here contrasts the Gentile world with Israel. It is, so runs the comment, as if a king were going to build a city. One and another site is tried for a foundation, but in digging they always come upon water. At last they come upon a Rock (Petra, פטרא). So, when God was about to build his world, He could not rear it on the generation of Enos nor on that of the flood, who brought destruction on the world; but ‘when He beheld that Abraham would arise in the future, He said: Behold I have found a Rock (Petra, פטרא) to build on it, and to found the world,’ whence also Abraham is called a Rock (ṣur, צור) as it is said: ‘Look unto the Rock whence ye are hewn.  The parallel between Abraham and Peter might be carried even further. If, from a misunderstanding of the Lord’s promise to Peter, later Christian legend represented the Apostle as sitting at the gate of heaven, Jewish legend represents Abraham as sitting at the gate of Gehenna, so as to prevent all who had the seal of circumcision from falling into its abyss.  To complete this sketch – in the curious Jewish legend about the Apostle Peter, which is outlined in an Appendix to this volume, Peter is always designated as simon kep̱a (spelt קיפא), there being, however, some reminiscence of the meaning attached to his name in the statement made, that, after his death, they built a church and tower, and called it Peter (פיטר) ‘which is the name for stone, because he sat there upon a stone till his death’ (שישב שם על האבן).

But to return. Believing, that Jesus spoke to Peter in the Aramic, we can now understand how the words Petros and Petra would be purposely used by Christ to mark the difference, which their choice would suggest. Perhaps it might be expressed in this somewhat clumsy paraphrase: ‘Thou art Peter (Petros) – a Stone or Rock – and upon this Petra – the Rock, the Petrine – will I found My Church.’ If, therefore, we would not entirely limit the reference to the words of Peter’s confession, we would certainly apply them to that which was the Petrine in Peter: the heaven-given faith which manifested itself in his confession. And we can further understand how, just as Christ’s contemporaries may have regarded the world as reared on the rock of faithful Abraham, so Christ promised, that He would build His Church on the Petrine in Peter – on his faith and confession. Nor would the term ‘Church’ sound strange in Jewish ears. The same Greek word (ἐκκλησία) as the equivalent of the Hebrew qahal, ‘convocation,’ ‘the called,’ occurs in the LXX. rendering of the Old Testament, and in ‘the Wisdom of the Son of Sirach’ and was apparently in familiar use at the time. In Hebrew use it referred to Israel, not in their national but in their religious unity. As here employed, it would convey the prophecy, that His disciples would in the future be joined together in a religious unity; that this religious unity or ‘Church’ would be a building of which Christ was the Builder; that it would be founded on ‘the Petrine’ of heaven-taught faith and confession; and that this religious unity, this church, was not only intended for a time, like a school of thought, but would last beyond death and the disembodied state: that, alike as regarded Christ and His Church – ‘the gates of Hades shall not prevail against it.’

Viewing ‘the Church’ as a building founded upon ‘the Petrine,’ it was not to vary, but to carry on the same metaphor, when Christ promised to give to him who had spoken as representative of the Apostles – ‘the stewards of the mysteries of God’ – ‘the keys of the Kingdom of Heaven.’ For, as the religious unity of His disciples, or the Church, represented ‘the royal rule of heaven,’ so, figuratively, entrance into the gates of this building, submission to the rule of God – to that Kingdom of which Christ was the King. And we remember how, in a special sense, this promise was fulfilled to Peter. Even as he had been the first to utter the confession of the Church, so was he also privileged to be the first to open its hitherto closed gates to the Gentiles, when God made choice of him, that, through his mouth, the Gentiles should first hear the words of the Gospel, and at his bidding first be baptized.

If hitherto it has appeared that what Christ said to Peter, though infinitely transcending Jewish ideas, was yet, in its expression and even cast of thought, such as to be quite intelligible to Jewish minds, nay, so familiar to them, that, as by well-marked steps, they might ascend to the higher Sanctuary, the difficult words with which our Lord closed must be read in the same light. For, assuredly, in interpreting such a saying of Christ to Peter) our first inquiry must be, what it would convey to the person to whom the promise was addressed. And here we recall, that no other terms were in more constant use in Rabbinic Canon-Law than those of ‘binding’ and ‘loosing.’ The words are the literal translation of the Hebrew equivalents Asar (אָסַר), which means ‘to bind,’ in the sense of prohibiting, and hitir (הִתִּיר, from נָתַר) which means ‘to loose,’ in the sense of permitting. For the latter the term shera or sheri (שְׁרָא, or שְּׁרִי) is also used. But this expression is, both in Targumic and Talmudic diction, not merely the equivalent of permitting, but passes into that of remitting or pardoning. On the other hand, ‘binding and loosing’ referred simply to things or acts prohibiting or else permitting them, declaring them lawful or unlawful. This was one of the powers claimed by the Rabbis. As regards their laws (not decisions as to things or acts), it was a principle, that while in Scripture there were some that bound and some that loosed, all the laws of the Rabbis were in reference to ‘binding.’ If this then represented the legislative, another pretension of the Rabbis, that of declaring ‘free’ or else ‘liable,’ i.e., guilty (patur or ḥayyaḇ), expressed their claim to the judicial power. By the first of these they ‘bound’ or ‘loosed’ acts or things; by the second they ‘remitted’ or ‘retained,’ declared a person free from, or liable to punishment, to compensation, or to sacrifice. These two powers – the legislative and judicial – which belonged to the Rabbinic office, Christ now transferred, and that not in their pretension, but in their reality, to His Apostles: the first here to Peter as their Representative, the second after His Resurrection to the Church.

On the second of these powers we need not at present dwell. That of ‘binding’ and ‘loosing’ included all the legislative functions for the new Church. And it was a reality. In the view of the Rabbis heaven was like earth, and questions were discussed and settled by a heavenly Sanhedrin. Now, in regard to some of their earthly decrees, they were wont to say that ‘the Sanhedrin above’ confirmed what ‘the Sanhedrin beneath’ had done. But the words of Christ, as they avoided the foolish conceit of His contemporaries, left it not doubtful, but conveyed the assurance that, under the guidance of the Holy Ghost, whatsoever they bound or loosed on earth would be bound or loosed in heaven.

But all this that had passed between them could not be matter of common talk – least of all, at that crisis in His History, and in that locality. Accordingly, all the three Evangelists record – each with distinctive emphasis – that the open confession of his Messiahship, which was virtually its proclamation, was not to be made public. Among the people it could only have led to results the opposite of those to be desired. How unprepared even that Apostle was, who had made proclamation of the Messiah, for what his confession implied, and how ignorant of the real meaning of Israel’s Messiah, appeared only too soon. For, His proclamation as the Christ imposed on the Lord, so to speak, the necessity of setting forth the mode of His contest and victory – the Cross and the Crown. Such teaching was the needed sequence of Peter’s confession – needed, not only for the correction of misunderstanding, but for direction. And yet significantly it is only said, that ‘He began’ to teach them these things – no doubt, as regarded the manner, as well as the time of this teaching. The Evangelists, indeed, write it down in plain language, as fully taught them by later experience, that He was to be rejected by the rulers of Israel, slain, and to rise again the third day. And there can be as little doubt, that Christ’s language (as afterwards they looked back upon it) must have clearly implied all this, as that at the time they did not fully understand it. He was so constantly in the habit of using symbolic language, and had only lately reproved them for taking that about ‘the leaven’ in a literal, which He had meant in a figurative sense, that it was but natural, they should have regarded in the same light announcements which, in their strict literality, would seem to them well nigh incredible. They could well understand His rejection by the Scribes – a sort of figurative death, or violent suppression of His claims and doctrines, and then, after briefest period, their resurrection, as it were – but not these terrible details in their full literality.

But, even so, there was enough of terrible realism in the words of Jesus to alarm Peter. His very affection, intensely human, to the Human Personality of his Master would lead him astray. That He, Whom he verily believed to be the Messiah, Whom he loved with all the intenseness of such an intense nature – that He should pass through such an ordeal – No! Never! He put it in the very strongest language, although the Evangelist gives only a literal translation of the Rabbinic expression – God forbid it, ‘God be merciful to Thee:’ no, such never could, nor should be to the Christ! It was an appeal to the Human in Christ, just as Satan had, in the great Temptation after the forty days’ fast, appealed to the purely Human in Jesus. Temptations these, with which we cannot reason, but which we must put behind us as behind, or else they will be a stumbling-block before us; temptations, which come to us often through the love and care of others, Satan transforming himself into an Angel of light; temptations, all the more dangerous, that they appeal to the purely human, not the sinful, element in us, but which arise from the circumstance, that they who so become our stumbling-block, so long as they are before us, are prompted by an affection which has regard to the purely human, and, in its one-sided human intenseness, minds the things of man, and not those of God.

Yet Peter’s words were to be made useful, by affording to the Master the opportunity of correcting what was amiss in the hearts of all His disciples, and teaching them such general principles about His Kingdom, and about that implied in true discipleship, as would, if received in the heart, enable them in due time victoriously to bear those trials connected with that rejection and Death of the Christ, which at the time they could not understand. Not a Messianic Kingdom, with glory to its heralds and chieftains – but self-denial, and the voluntary bearing of that cross on which the powers of this world would nail the followers of Christ. They knew the torture which their masters – the power of the world – the Romans, were wont to inflict: such must they, and similar must we all, be prepared to bear, and, in so doing, begin by denying self. In such a contest, to lose life would be to gain it, to gain would be to lose life. And, if the issue lay between these two, who could hesitate what to choose, even if it were ours to gain or lose a whole world? For behind it all there was a reality – a Messianic triumph and Kingdom – not, indeed, such as they imagined, but far higher, holier: the Coming of the Son of Man in the glory of His Father, and with His Angels, and then eternal gain or loss, according to our deeds.

But why speak of the future and distant? ‘A sign’ – a terrible sign of it ‘from heaven,’ a vindication of Christ’s ‘rejected’ claims, a vindication of the Christ, Whom they had slain, invoking His Blood on their City and Nation, a vindication, such as alone these men could understand, of the reality of His Resurrection and Ascension, was in the near future. The flames of the City and Temple would be the light in that nation’s darkness, by which to read the inscription on the Cross. All this not afar off. Some of those who stood there would not ‘taste death,’ till in those judgments they would see that the Son of Man had come in His Kingdom.

Then – only then – at the burning of the City. Why not now, visibly, and immediately on their terrible sin? Because God shows not ‘signs from heaven’ such as man seeks; because His long-suffering waiteth long; because, all unnoticed, the finger moves on the dial-plate of time till the hour strikes; because there is Divine grandeur and majesty in the slow, unheard, certain night-march of events under His direction. God is content to wait, because He reigneth; man must be content to wait, because he believeth.

‘But God forbede but men shulde leve

Wel mor thing then men han seen with eye

Men shall not wenen euery thing a lye

But yf him-selfe yt seeth or elles dooth

For god wot thing is neuer the lasse sooth

Thogh euery wight ne may it nat y-see.’

Chaucer: Prologue to the Legend of Good Women

Chapter I. The Transfiguration.

(Mat_17:1-8; Mar_9:2-8; Luk_9:28-36)

The great confession of Peter, as the representative Apostle, had laid the foundations of the Church as such. In contradistinction to the varying opinions of even those best disposed towards Christ, it openly declared that Jesus was the Very Christ of God, the fulfilment of all Old Testament prophecy, the heir of Old Testament promise, the realisation of the Old Testament hope for Israel, and, in Israel, for all mankind. Without this confession, Christians might have been a Jewish sect, a religious party, or a school of thought, and Jesus a Teacher, Rabbi, Reformer, or Leader of men. But the confession which marked Jesus as the Christ, also constituted His followers the Church. It separated them, as it separated Him, from all around; it gathered them into one, even Christ; and it marked out the foundation on which the building made without hands was to rise. Never was illustrative answer so exact as this: ‘On this Rock’ – bold, outstanding, well-defined, immovable – ‘will I build My Church.’

Without doubt this confession also marked the high-point of the Apostles’ faith. Never afterwards, till His Resurrection, did it reach so high. Nay, what followed seems rather a retrogression from it: beginning with their unwillingness to receive the announcement of His decease, and ending with their unreadiness to share His sufferings or to believe in His Resurrection. And if we realise the circumstances, we shall understand at least, their initial difficulties. Their highest faith had been followed by the most crushing disappointment; the confession that He was the Christ, by the announcement of His approaching Sufferings and Death at Jerusalem. The proclamation that He was the Divine Messiah had not been met by promises of the near glory of the Messianic Kingdom, but by announcements of certain, public rejection and seeming terrible defeat. Such possibilities had never seriously entered into their thoughts of the Messiah; and the declaration of the very worst, and that in the near future, made at such a moment, must have been a staggering blow to all their hopes. It was as if they had reached the topmost height, only to be cast thence into the lowest depth.

On the other hand, it was necessary that at this stage in the History of the Christ, and immediately after His proclamation, the sufferings and the rejection of the Messiah should be prominently brought forward. It was needful for the Apostles, as the remonstrance of Peter showed; and, with reverence be it added, it was needful for the Lord Himself, as even His words to Peter seem to imply: ‘Get thee behind Me; thou art a stumbling-block unto me.’ For – as we have said – was not the remonstrance of the disciple in measure a reenactment of the great initial Temptation by Satan after the forty days’ fast in the wilderness? And, in view of all this, and of what immediately afterwards followed, we venture to say, it was fitting that an interval of ‘six’ days should intervene, or, as Luke puts it, including the day of Peter’s confession and the night of Christ’s Transfiguration, ‘about eight days.’ The Chronicle of these days is significantly left blank in the Gospels, but we cannot doubt, that it was filled up with thoughts and teaching concerning that Decease, leading up to the revelation on the Mount of Transfiguration.

There are other blanks in the narrative besides that just referred to. We shall try to fill them up, as best we can. Perhaps it was the Sabbath when Peter’s great confession was made; and the ‘six days’ of Matthew and Mark become the ‘about eight days’ of Luke, when we reckon from that Sabbath to the close of another, and suppose that at even the Saviour ascended the Mount of Transfiguration with the three Apostles: Peter, James, and John. There can scarcely be a reasonable doubt that Christ and His disciples had not left the neighborhood of Caesarea, and hence, that ‘the mountain’ must have been one of the slopes of gigantic, snowy Hermon. In that quiet semi-Gentile retreat of Caesarea Philippi could He best teach them, and they best learn, without interruption or temptation from Pharisees and Scribes, that terrible mystery of His Suffering. And on that gigantic mountain barrier which divided Jewish and Gentile lands, and while surveying, as Moses of old, the land to be occupied in all its extent, amidst the solemn solitude and majestic grandeur of Hermon, did it seem most fitting that, both by anticipatory fact and declamatory word, the Divine attestation should be given to the proclamation that He was the Messiah, and to this also, that, in a world that is in the power of sin and Satan, God’s Elect must suffer, in order that, by ransoming, He may conquer it to God. But what a background, here, for the Transfiguration; what surroundings for the Vision, what echoes for the Voice from heaven!

It was evening, and, as we have suggested, the evening after the Sabbath, when the Master and those three of His disciples, who were most closely linked to Him in heart and thought, climbed the path that led up to one of the heights of Hermon. In all the most solemn transactions of earth’s history, there has been this selection and separation of the few to witness God’s great doings. Alone with his son, as the destined sacrifice, did Abraham climb Moriah; alone did Moses behold, amid the awful loneliness of the wilderness, the burning bush, and alone on Sinai’s height did he commune with God; alone was Elijah at Horeb, and with no other companion to view it than Elisha did he ascend into heaven. But Jesus, the Saviour of His people, could not be quite alone, save in those innermost transactions of His soul: in the great contest of His first Temptation, and in the solitary communings of His heart with God. These are mysteries which the outspread wings of Angels, as reverently they hide their faces, conceal from earth’s, and even heaven’s, vision. But otherwise, in the most solemn turning-points of this history, Jesus could not be alone, and yet was alone with those three chosen ones, most receptive of Him, and most representative of the Church. It was so in the house of Jairus, on the Mount of Transfiguration, and in the Garden of Gethsemane.

As Luke alone informs us, it was ‘to pray’ that Jesus took them apart up into that mountain. ‘To pray,’ no doubt in connection with ‘those sayings;’ since their reception required quite as much the direct teaching of the Heavenly Father, as had the previous confession of Peter, of which it was, indeed, the complement, the other aspect, the twin height. And the Transfiguration, with its attendant glorified Ministry and Voice from heaven, was God’s answer to that prayer.

What has already been stated, has convinced us that it could not have been to one of the highest peaks of Hermon, as most modern writers suppose, that Jesus led His companions. There are three such peaks: those north and south, of about equal height (9,400 feet above the sea, and nearly 11,000 above the Jordan valley), are only 500 paces distant from each other, while the third, to the west (about 100 feet lower), is separated from the others by a narrow valley. Now, to climb the top of Hermon is, even from the nearest point, an Alpine ascent, trying and fatiguing, which would occupy a whole day (six hours in the ascent and four in the descent), and require provisions of food and water; while, from the keenness of the air, it would be impossible to spend the night on the top. To all this there is no allusion in the text, nor slightest hint of either difficulties or preparations, such as otherwise would have been required. Indeed, a contrary impression is left on the mind.

‘Up into an high mountain apart,’ ‘to pray.’ The Sabbath-sun had set, and a delicious cool hung in the summer air, as Jesus and the three commenced their ascent. From all parts of the land, far as Jerusalem or Tyre, the one great object in view must always have been snow-clad Hermon. And now it stood out before them – as, to the memory of the traveller in the West, Monte Rosa or Mont Blanc – in all the wondrous glory of a sunset: first rose-coloured, then deepening red, next ‘the death-like pallor, and the darkness relieved by the snow, in quick succession.’ From high up there, as one describes it, ‘a deep ruby flush came over all the scene, and warm purple shadows crept slowly on. The sea of Galilee was lit up with a delicate greenish-yellow hue, between its dim walls of hill. The flush died out in a few minutes, and a pale, steel-coloured shade succeeded…. A long pyramidal shadow slid down to the eastern foot of Hermon, and crept across the great plain; Damascus was swallowed up by it; and finally the pointed end of the shadow stood out distinctly against the sky – a dusky cone of dull colour against the flush of the afterglow. It was the shadow of the mountain itself, stretching away for seventy miles across the plain – the most marvellous shadow perhaps to be seen anywhere. The sun underwent strange changes of shape in the thick vapours – now almost square, now like a domed Temple – until at length it slid into the sea, and went out like a blue spark.’ And overhead shone out in the blue summer-sky, one by one, the stars in Eastern brilliancy. We know not the exact direction which the climbers took, nor how far their journey went. But there is only one road that leads from Caesarea Philippi to Hermon, and we cannot be mistaken in following it. First, among vine-clad hills stocked with mulberry, apricot and fig-trees; then, through corn-fields where the pear tree supplants the fig; next, through oak coppice, and up rocky ravines to where the soil is dotted with dwarf shrubs. And if we pursue the ascent, it still becomes steeper, till the first ridge of snow is crossed, after which turfy banks, gravelly slopes, and broad snow-patches alternate. The top of Hermon in summer – and it can only be ascended in summer or autumn – is free from snow, but broad patches run down the sides expanding as they descend. To the very summit it is well earthed; to 500 feet below it, studded with countless plants, higher up with dwarf clumps.

As they ascend in the cool of that Sabbath evening, the keen mountain air must have breathed strength into the climbers, and the scent of snow – for which the parched tongue would long in summer’s heat – have refreshed them. We know not what part may have been open to them of the glorious panorama from Hermon, embracing as it does a great part of Syria from the sea to Damascus, from the Lebanon and the gorge of the Litany to the mountains of Moab; or down the Jordan valley to the Dead Sea; or over Galilee, Samaria, and on to Jerusalem and beyond it. But such darkness as that of a summer’s night would creep on. And now the moon shone out in dazzling splendour, cast long shadows over the mountain, and lit up the broad patches of snow, reflecting their brilliancy on the objects around.

On that mountain-top ‘He prayed.’ Although the text does not expressly state it, we can scarcely doubt, that He prayed with them, and still less, that He prayed for them, as did the Prophet for his servant, when the city was surrounded by Syrian horsemen: that his eyes might be opened to behold heaven’s host – the far ‘more that are with us than they that are with them.’ And, with deep reverence be it said, for Himself also did Jesus pray. For, as the pale moonlight shone on the fields of snow in the deep passes of Hermon, so did the light of the coming night shine on the cold glitter of Death in the near future. He needed prayer, that in it His Soul might lie calm and still – perfect, in the unruffled quiet of His Self-surrender, the absolute rest of His Faith, and the victory of His Sacrificial Obedience. And He needed prayer also, as the introduction to, and preparation for, His Transfiguration. Truly, He stood on Hermon. It was the highest ascent, the widest prospect into the past, present, and future, in His Earthly Life. Yet was it but Hermon at night. And this is the human, or rather the Theanthropic view of this prayer, and of its consequence.

As we understand it, the prayer with them had ceased, or it had merged into silent prayer of each, or Jesus now prayed alone and apart, when what gives this scene such a truly human and truthful aspect ensued. It was but natural for these men of simple habits, at night, and after the long ascent, and in the strong mountain-air, to be heavy with sleep. And we also know it as a psychological fact, that, in quick reaction after the overpowering influence of the strongest emotions, drowsiness would creep over their limbs and senses. ‘They were heavy – weighted – with sleep,’ as afterwards at Gethsemane their eyes were weighted.  Yet they struggled with it, and it is quite consistent with experience, that they should continue in that to state of semi-stupor, during what passed between Moses and Elijah and Christ and also be ‘fully awake,’ ‘to see His Glory,’ and the two men who stood with Him.’ In any case this descriptive trait, so far from being (as negative critics would have it), a ‘later embellishment,’ could only have formed part of a primitive account, since it is impossible to conceive any rational motive for its later addition.

What they saw was their Master, while praying, ‘transformed.’ The ‘form of God’ shone through the form of a servant; the appearance of His Face became other,  it ‘did shine as the sun.’  Nay, the whole Figure seemed bathed in light, the very garments whiter far than the snow on which the moon shone – ‘so as no fuller on earth can white them,’ ‘glittering,’ ‘white as the light.’ And more than this they saw and heard. They saw ‘with Him two men,’ whom, in their heightened sensitiveness to spiritual phenomena, they could have no difficulty in recognising, by such of their conversation as they heard, as Moses and Elijah. The column was now complete: the base in the Law; the shaft in that Prophetism of which Elijah was the great Representative – in his first Mission, as fulfilling the primary object of the Prophets: to call Israel back to God; and, in his second Mission, this other aspect of the Prophets’ work, to prepare the way for the Kingdom of God; and the apex in Christ Himself – a unity completely fitting together in all its parts. And they heard also, that they spake of ‘His Exodus – outgoing – which He was about to fulfil at Jerusalem.’ Although the term ‘Exodus,’ ‘outgoing,’ occurs otherwise for ‘death,’ we must bear in mind its meaning as contrasted with that in which the same Evangelic writer designates the Birth of Christ, as His ‘incoming.’ In truth, it implies not only His Decease, but its manner, and even His Resurrection and Ascension. In that sense we can understand the better, as on the lips of Moses and Elijah, this about His fulfilling that Exodus: accomplishing it in all its fulness, and so completing Law and Prophecy, type and prediction.

And still that sight of glory had not ended. A strange peculiarity has been noticed about Hermon in ‘the extreme rapidity of the formation of cloud on the summit. In a few minutes a thick cap forms over the top of the mountain, and as quickly disperses and entirely disappears.’ It almost seems as if this, like the natural position of Hermon itself, was, if not to be connected with, yet, so to speak, to form the background to what was to be enacted. Suddenly a cloud passed over the clear brow of the mountain – not an ordinary, but ‘a luminous cloud,’ a cloud uplit, filled with light. As it laid itself between Jesus and the two Old Testament Representatives, it parted, and presently enwrapped them. Most significant is it, suggestive of the Presence of God, revealing, yet concealing – a cloud, yet luminous. And this cloud overshadowed the disciples: the shadow of its light fell upon them. A nameless terror seized them. Fain would they have hold what seemed for ever to escape their grasp. Such vision had never before been vouchsafed to mortal man as had fallen on their sight; they had already heard Heaven’s converse; they had tasted Angels’ Food, the Bread of His Presence. Could the vision not be perpetuated – at least prolonged? In the confusion of their terror they knew not how otherwise to word it, than by an expression of ecstatic longing for the continuance of what they had, of their earnest readiness to do their little best, if they could but secure it – make booths for the heavenly Visitants – and themselves wait in humble service and reverent attention on what their dull heaviness had prevented their enjoying and profiting by, to the full. They knew and felt it: ‘Lord’ – ‘Rabbi’ – ‘Master’ – ‘it is good for us to be here’ – and they longed to have it; yet how to secure it, their terror could not suggest, save in the language of ignorance and semi-conscious confusion. ‘They wist not what they said.’ In presence of the luminous cloud that enwrapt those glorified Saints, they spake from out that darkness which compassed them about.

And now the light-cloud was spreading; presently its fringe fell upon them. Heaven’s awe was upon them: for the touch of the heavenly strains, almost to breaking, the bond betwixt body and soul. ‘And a Voice came out of the cloud, saying, This is My Beloved Son: hear Him.’ It had needed only One other Testimony to seal it all; One other Voice, to give both meaning and music to what had been the subject of Moses’ and Elijah’s speaking. That Voice had now come – not in testimony to any fact, but to a Person – that of Jesus as His ‘Beloved Son,’ and in gracious direction to them. They heard it, falling on their faces in awestruck worship.

How long the silence had lasted, and the last rays of the cloud had passed, we know not. Presently, it was a gentle touch that roused them. It was the Hand of Jesus, as with words of comfort He reassured them: ‘Arise, and be not afraid.’ And as, startled, they looked round about them, they saw no man save Jesus only. The Heavenly Visitants had gone, the last glow of the light-cloud had faded away, the echoes of Heaven’s Voice had died out. It was night, and they were on the Mount with Jesus, and with Jesus only.

Is it truth or falsehood; was it reality or vision – or part of both, this Transfiguration – scene on Hermon? One thing, at least, must be evident: if it be a true narrative, it cannot possibly describe a merely subjective vision without objective reality. But, in that case, it would be not only difficult, but impossible, to separate one part of the narrative – the appearance of Moses and Elijah – from the other, the Transfiguration of the Lord, and to assign to the latter objective reality, while regarding the former as merely a vision. But is the account true? It certainly represents primitive tradition, since it is not only told by all the three Evangelists, but referred to in 2Pe_1:16-18, and evidently implied in the words of John, both in his Gospel, and in the opening of his First Epistle. Few, if any, would be so bold as to assert that the whole of this history had been invented by the three Apostles, who professed to have been its witnesses. Nor can any adequate motive be imagined for its invention. It could not have been intended to prepare the Jews for the Crucifixion of the Messiah, since it was to be kept a secret till after His Resurrection; and, after the event, it could not have been necessary for the assurance of those who believed in the Resurrection, while to others it would carry no weight. Again, the special traits of this history are inconsistent with the theory of its invention. In a legend, the witnesses of such an event would not have been represented as scarcely awake, and not knowing what they said. Manifestly, the object would have been to convey the opposite impression. Lastly, it cannot be too often repeated, that, in view of the manifold witness of the Evangelists, amply confirmed in all essentials by the Epistles – preached, lived, and bloodsealed by the primitive Church, and handed down as primitive tradition – the most untenable theory seems that which imputes intentional fraud to their narratives, or, to put it otherwise, non-belief on the part of the narrators of what they related.

But can we suppose, if not fraud, yet mistake on the part of these witnesses, so that an event, otherwise naturally explicable, may, through their ignorance or imaginativeness, have assumed the proportions of this narrative? The investigation will be the more easy, that, as regards all the main features of the narrative, the three Evangelists are entirely agreed. Instead of examining in detail the various rationalistic attempts made to explain this history on natural grounds, it seems sufficient for refutation to ask the intelligent reader to attempt imagining any natural event, which by any possibility could have been mistaken for what the eyewitnesses related, and the Evangelists recorded.

There still remains the mythical theory of explanation, which, if it could be supported, would be the most attractive among those of a negative character. But we cannot imagine a legend without some historical motive or basis for its origination. The legend must be in character – that is, congruous to the ideas and expectancies entertained. Such a history as that of the Transfiguration could not have been a pure invention; but if such or similar expectancies had existed about the Messiah, then such a legend might, without intentional fraud, have, by gradual accretion, gathered around the Person of Him Who was regarded as the Christ. And this is the rationale of the so-called mythical theory. But all such ideas vanish at the touch of history. There was absolutely no Jewish expectancy that could have bodied itself forth in a narrative like that of the Transfiguration. To begin with the accessories – the idea, that the coming of Moses was to be connected with that of the Messiah, rests not only on an exaggeration, but on a dubious and difficult passage in the Jerusalem Targum.  It is quite true, that the face of Moses shone when he came down from the Mount; but, if this is to be regarded as the basis of the Transfiguration of Jesus, the presence of Elijah would not be in point. On the other hand – to pass over other inconsistencies – anything more un-Jewish could scarcely be imagined than a Messiah crucified, or that Moses and Elijah should appear to converse with Him on such a Death! If it be suggested, that the purpose was to represent the Law and the Prophets as bearing testimony to the Dying of the Messiah, we fully admit it. Certainly, this is the New Testament and the true idea concerning the Christ; but equally certainly, it was not and is not, that of the Jews concerning the Messiah.

If it is impossible to regard this narrative as a fraud; hopeless, to attempt explaining it as a natural event; and utterly unaccountable, when viewed in connection with contemporary thought or expectancy – in short, if all negative theories fail, let us see whether, and how, on the supposition of its reality, it will fit into the general narrative. To begin with: if our previous investigations have rightly led us up to this result, that Jesus was the Very Christ of God, then this event can scarcely be described as miraculous – at least in such a history. If we would not expect it, it is certainly that which might have been expected. For, first, it was (and at that particular period) a necessary stage in the Lord’s History, viewed in the light in which the Gospels present Him. Secondly, it was needful for His own strengthening even as the Ministry of the Angels after the Temptation. Thirdly, it was ‘good’ for these three disciples to be there: not only for future witness, but for present help, and also with special reference to Peter’s remonstrance against Christ’s death-message. Lastly, the Voice from heaven, in hearing of His disciples, was of the deepest importance. Coming after the announcement of His Death and Passion, it scaled that testimony, and, in view of it, proclaimed Him as the Prophet to Whom Moses had bidden Israel hearken, while it repeated the heavenly utterance concerning Him made at His Baptism.

But, for us all, the interest of this history lies not only in the past; it is in the present also, and in the future. To all ages it is like the vision of the bush burning, in which was the Presence of God. And it points us forward to that transformation, of which that of Christ was the pledge, when ‘this corruptible shall put on incorruption.’ As of old the beacon-fires, lighted from hill to hill, announced to them far away from Jerusalem the advent of solemn feast, so does the glory kindled on the Mount of Transfiguration shine through the darkness of the world, and tell of the Resurrection-Day.

On Hermon the Lord and His disciples had reached the highest point in this history. Henceforth it is a descent into the Valley of Humiliation and Death!

(Mat_17:9-21; Mar 9:9-29; Luk_9:37-43)

It was the early dawn of another summer’s day when the Master and His disciples turned their steps once more towards the plain. They had seen His Glory; they had had the most solemn witness which, as Jews, they could have; and they had gained a new knowledge of the Old Testament. It all bore reference to the Christ, and it spake of His Decease. Perhaps on that morning better than in the previous night did they realise the vision, and feel its calm happiness. It was to their souls like the morning-air which they breathed on that mountain.

It would be only natural, that their thoughts should also wander to the companions and fellow-disciples whom, on the previous evening, they had left in the valley beneath. How much they had to tell them, and how glad they would be of the tidings they would hear! That one night had for ever answered so many questions about that most hard of all His sayings: concerning His Rejection and violent Death at Jerusalem; it had shed heavenly light into that terrible gloom! They – at least these three – had formerly simply submitted to the saying of Christ because it was His, without understanding it; but now they had learned to see it in quite another light. How they must have longed to impart it to those whose difficulties were at least as great, perhaps greater, who perhaps had not yet recovered from the rude shock which their Messianic thoughts and hopes had so lately received. We think here especially of those, whom, so far as individuality of thinking is concerned, we may designate as the representative three, and the counterpart of the three chosen Apostles: Philip, who ever sought firm standing-ground for faith; Thomas, who wanted evidence for believing; and Judas, whose burning Jewish zeal for a Jewish Messiah had already begun to consume his own soul, as the wind had driven back upon himself the flame that had been kindled. Every question of a Philip, every doubt of a Thomas, every despairing wild outburst of a Judas, would be met by what they had now to tell.

But it was not to be so. Evidently, it was not an event to be made generally known, either to the people or even to the great body of the disciples. They could not have understood its real meaning; they would have misunderstood, and in their ignorance misapplied to carnal Jewish purposes, its heavenly lessons. But even the rest of the Apostles must not know of it: that they were not qualified to witness it, proved that they were not prepared to hear of it. We cannot for a moment imagine, that there was favouritism in the selection of certain Apostles to share in what the others might not witness. It was not because these were better loved, but because they were better prepared – more fully receptive, more readily acquiescing, more entirely self-surrendering. Too often we commit in our estimate the error of thinking of them exclusively as Apostles, not as disciples; as our teachers, not as His learners, with all the failings of men, the prejudices of Jews, and the unbelief natural to us all, but assuming in each individual special forms, and appearing as characteristic weaknesses.

And so it was that, when the silence of that morning-descent was broken, the Master laid on them the command to tell no man of this vision, till after the Son of Man were risen from the dead. This mysterious injunction of silence affords another presumptive evidence against the invention, or the rationalistic explanations, or the mythical origin of this narrative. It also teaches two further lessons. The silence thus enjoined was the first step into the Valley of Humiliation. It was also a test, whether they had understood the spiritual teaching of the vision. And their strict obedience, not questioning even the grounds of the injunction, proved that they had learned it. So entire, indeed, was their submission, that they dared not even ask the Master about a new and seemingly greater mystery than they had yet heard: the meaning of the Son of Man rising from the Dead. Did it refer to the general Resurrection; was the Messiah to be the first to rise from the dead, and to waken the other sleepers – or was it only a figurative expression for His triumph and vindication? Evidently, they knew as yet nothing of Christ’s Personal Resurrection, as separate from that of others, and on the third day after His Death. And yet it was no near! So ignorant were they, and so unprepared! And they dared not ask the Master of it. This much they had already learned: not to question the mysteries of the future, but simply to receive them. But in their inmost hearts they kept that saying – as the Virgin-Mother had kept many a like saying – carrying it about ‘with them’ as a precious living germ that would presently spring up and bear fruit, or as that which would kindle into light and chase all darkness. But among themselves, then and many times afterwards, in secret converse, they questioned what the rising again from the dead should mean.

There was another question, and it they might ask of Jesus, since it concerned not the mysteries of the future, but the lessons of the past. Thinking of that vision, of the appearance of Elijah and of his speaking of the Death of the Messiah, why did the Scribes say that Elijah should first come – and, as was the universal teaching, for the purpose of restoring all things? If, as they had seen, Elijah had come – but only for a brief season, not to abide, along with Moses, as they had fondly wished when they proposed to rear them booths; if he had come not to the people but to Christ, in view of only them three – and they were not even to tell of it; and, if it had been, not to prepare for a spiritual restoration, but to speak of what implied the opposite: the Rejection and violent Death of the Messiah – then, were the Scribes right in their teaching, and what was its real meaning? The question afforded the opportunity of presenting to the disciples not only a solution of their difficulties, but another insight into the necessity of His Rejection and Death. They had failed to distinguish between the coming of Elijah and its alternative sequence. Truly ‘Elias cometh first’ – and Elijah had ‘come already’ in the person of John the Baptist. The Divinely intended object of Elijah’s coming was to ‘restore all things.’ This, of course, implied a moral element in the submission of the people to God, and their willingness to receive his message. Otherwise there was this Divine alternative in the prophecy of Malachi: ‘Lest I come to smite the land with the ban’ (ḥerem). Elijah had come; if the people had received his message, there would have been the promised restoration of all things. As the Lord had said on a previous occasion: ‘If ye are willing to receive him, this is Elijah, which is to come.’ Similarly, if Israel had received the Christ, He would have gathered them as a hen her chickens for protection; He would not only have been, but have visibly appeared as, their King. But Israel did not know their Elijah, and did unto him whatsoever they listed; and so, in logical sequence, would the Son of Man also suffer of them. And thus has the other part of Malachi’s prophecy been fulfilled: and the land of Israel been smitten with the ban.

Amidst such conversation the descent from the mountain was accomplished. Presently they found themselves in view of a scene, which only too clearly showed that unfitness of the disciples for the heavenly vision of the preceding night, to which reference has been made. For, amidst the divergence of details between the narratives of Matthew and Mark, and, so far as it goes, that of Luke, the one point in which they almost literally and emphatically accord is, when the Lord speaks of them, in language of bitter disappointment and sorrow, as a generation with whose want of faith, notwithstanding all that they had seen and learned, He had still to bear, expressly attributing their failure in restoring the lunatick, to their ‘unbelief.’

It was, indeed, a terrible contrast between the scene below and that vision of Moses and Elijah, when they had spoken of the Exodus of the Christ, and the Divine Voice had attested the Christ from out the luminous cloud. A concourse of excited people – among them once more ‘Scribes,’ who had tracked the Lord and come upon His weakest disciples in the hour of their greatest weakness – is gathered about a man who had in vain brought his lunatick son for healing. He is eagerly questioned by the multitude, and moodily answers; or, as it might almost seem from Matthew, he is leaving the crowd and those from whom he had vainly sought help. This was the hour of triumph for these Scribes. The Master had refused the challenge in Dalmanutha, and the disciples, accepting it, had signally failed. There they were, ‘questioning with them’ noisily, discussing this and all similar phenomena, but chiefly the power, authority, and reality of the Master. It reminds us of Israel’s temptation in the wilderness, and we should scarcely wonder, if they had even questioned the return of Jesus, as they of old did that of Moses.

At that very moment, Jesus appeared with the three. We cannot wonder that, ‘when they saw Him, they were greatly amazed, and running to Him saluted Him. He came – as always, and to us also – unexpectedly, most opportunely, and for the real decision of the question in hand. There was immediate calm, preceding victory. Before the Master’s inquiry about the cause of this violent discussion could be answered, the man who had been its occasion came forward. With lowliest gesture (‘kneeling to Him’) he addressed Jesus. At last he had found Him, Whom he had come to seek; and, if possibility of help there were, oh! let it be granted. Describing the symptoms of his son’s distemper, which were those of epilepsy and mania – although both the father and Jesus rightly attributed the disease to demoniac influence – he told, how he had come in search of the Master, but only found the nine disciples, and how they had presumptuously attempted, and signally failed in the attempted cure.

Why had they failed? For the same reason, that they had not been taken into the Mount of Transfiguration – because they were ‘faithless,’ because of their ‘unbelief.’ They had that outward faith of the ‘probatum est’ (‘it is proved’); they believed because, and what, they had seen; and they were drawn closer to Christ – at least almost all of them, though in varying measure – as to Him Who, and Who alone, spake ‘the words of eternal life,’ which, with wondrous power, had swayed their souls, or laid them to heaven’s rest. But that deeper, truer faith, which consisted in the spiritual view of that which was the unseen in Christ, and that higher power, which flows from such apprehension, they had not. In such faith as they had, they spake, repeated forms of exorcism, tried to imitate their Master. But they signally failed, as did those seven Jewish Priest – sons at Ephesus. And it was intended that they should fail, that so to them and to us the higher meaning of faith as contrasted with power, the inward as contrasted with the merely outward qualification, might appear. In that hour of crisis, in the presence of questioning Scribes and a wondering populace, and in the absence of the Christ, only one power could prevail, that of spiritual faith; and ‘that kind’ could ‘not come out but by prayer.’

It is this lesson, viewed also in organic connection with all that had happened since the great temptation at Dalmanutha, which furnishes the explanation of the whole history. For one moment we have a glimpse into the Saviour’s soul: the poignant sorrow of His disappointment at the unbelief of the ‘faithless and perverse generation,’ with which He had so long borne; the infinite patience and condescension, the Divine ‘need be’ of His having thus to bear even with His own, together with the deep humiliation and keen pang which it involved; and the almost home-longing, as one has called it, of His soul. These are mysteries to adore. The next moment Jesus turns Him to the father. At His command the lunatick is brought to Him. In the Presence of Jesus, and in view of the coming contest between Light and Darkness, one of those paroxysms of demoniac operation ensues, such as we have witnessed on all similar occasions. This was allowed to pass in view of all. But both this, and the question as to the length of time the lunatick had been afflicted, together with the answer, and the description of the dangers involved, which it elicited, were evidently intended to point the lesson of the need of a higher faith. To the father, however, who knew not the mode of treatment by the Heavenly Physician, they seemed like the questions of an earthly healer who must consider the symptoms before he could attempt to cure. ‘If Thou canst do anything, have compassion on us, and help us.’

It was but natural – and yet it was the turning-point in this whole history, alike as regarded the healing of the lunatick, the better leading of his father, the teaching of the disciples, and that of the multitude and the Scribes. There is all the calm majesty of Divine self-consciousness, yet without trace of self-assertion, when Jesus, utterly ignoring the ‘if Thou canst,’ turns to the man and tells him that, while with the Divine Helper there is the possibility of all help, it is conditioned by a possibility in ourselves, by man’s receptiveness, by his faith. Not, if the Christ can do anything or even everything, but, ‘if thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth.’ The question is not, it can never be, as the man had put it; it must not even be answered, but ignored. It must ever be, not what He can, but what we can. When the infinite fulness is poured forth, as it ever is in Christ, it is not the oil that is stayed, but the vessels which fail. He giveth richly, inexhaustibly, but not mechanically; there is only one condition, the moral one of the presence of absolute faith – our receptiveness. And so these words have to all time remained the teaching to every individual striver in the battle of the higher life, and to the Church as a whole – the ‘in hoc sîgno vinces’ over the Cross, the victory that overcometh the world, even our faith.

It was a lesson, of which the reality was attested by the hold which it took on the man’s whole nature. While by one great outgoing of his soul he overleapt all, to lay hold on the one fact set before him, he felt all the more the dark chasm of unbelief behind him, but he also clung to that Christ, Whose teaching of faith had shown him, together with the possibility, the source of faith. Thus through the felt unbelief of faith he attained true faith by laying hold on the Divine Saviour, when he cried out and said: ‘Lord, I believe; help Thou mine unbelief.’ These words have remained historic, marking all true faith, which, even as faith, is conscious of, nay implies, unbelief, but brings it to Christ for help. The most bold leap of faith and the timid resting at His Feet, the first beginning and the last ending of faith, have alike this as their watchword.

Such cry could not be, and never is, unheard. It was real demoniac influence which continuing with this man from childhood onwards, had well-nigh crushed all moral individuality in him. In his many lucid intervals these many years, since he had grown from a child into a youth, he had never sought to shake off the yoke and regain his moral individuality, nor would he even now have come, if his father had not brought him. If any, this narrative shows the view which the Gospels and Jesus took of what are described as the ‘demonised.’ It was a reality, and not accommodation to Jewish views, when, as He saw ‘the multitude running together, He rebuked the unclean spirit, saying to him: Dumb and deaf spirit, I command thee, come out of him, and no more come into him.’

Another and a more violent paroxysm, so that the bystanders almost thought him dead. But the unclean spirit had come out of him. And with strong gentle Hand the Saviour lifted him, and with loving gesture delivered him to his father.

All things had been possible to faith; not to that external belief of the disciples, which failed to reach ‘that kind,’ and ever fails to reach such kind, but to trite spiritual faith in Him. And so it is to each of us individually, and to the Church, to all time. ‘That kind,’ – whether it be of sin, of lust, of the world, or of science falsely so called, of temptation, or of materialism – cometh not out by any of our ready-made formulas or dead dogmas. Not so are the flesh and the Devil vanquished; not so is the world overcome. It cometh out by nothing but by prayer: ‘Lord, I believe; help Thou mine unbelief.’ Then, although our faith were only what in popular language was described as the smallest – ‘like a grain of mustard-seed’ – and the result to be achieved the greatest, most difficult, seemingly transcending human ability to compass it – what in popular language was designated as ‘removing mountains’ – ‘nothing shall be impossible’ unto us. And these eighteen centuries of suffering in Christ, and deliverance through Christ, and work for Christ, have proved it. For all things are ours, if Christ is ours.

(Mat 17:22-18:22; Mar 9:30-50; Luk_9:43-50)

Now that the Lord’s retreat in the utmost borders of the land, at Caesarea Philippi, was known to the Scribes, and that He was again surrounded and followed by the multitude, there could be no further object in His retirement. Indeed, the time was coming that He should meet that for which He had been, and was still, preparing the minds of His disciples – His Decease at Jerusalem. Accordingly, we find Him once more with His disciples in Galilee – not to abide there, nor to traverse it as formerly for Missionary purposes, but preparatory to His journey to the Feast of Tabernacles. The few events of this brief stay, and the teaching connected with it, may be summed up as follows.

1. Prominently, perhaps, as the summary of all, we have now the clear and emphatic repetition of the prediction of His Death and Resurrection. While He would keep His present stay in Galilee as private as possible, He would fain so emphasize this teaching to His disciples, that it should sink down into their ears and memories. For it was, indeed, the most needful for them in view of the immediate future. Yet the announcement only filled their loving hearts with exceeding sorrow; they comprehended it not; nay, they were – perhaps not unnaturally – afraid to ask Him about it. We remember, that even the three who had been with Jesus on the Mount, under- stood not what the rising from the dead should mean, and that, by direction of the Master, they kept the whole Vision from their fellow-disciples; and, thinking of it all, we scarcely wonder that, from their standpoint, it was hid from them, so that they might not perceive it.

2. It is to the depression caused by His insistence on this terrible future, to the constant apprehension of near danger, and the consequent desire not to ‘offend,’ and so provoke those at whose hands, Christ had told them, He was to suffer, that we trace the incident about the tribute-money. We can scarcely believe, that Peter would have answered as he did, without previous permission of his Master, had it not been for such thoughts and fears. It was another mode of saying, ‘That be far from Thee’ – or, rather, trying to keep it as far as he could from Christ. Indeed, we can scarcely repress the feeling, that there was a certain amount of secretiveness on the part of Peter, as if he had apprehended that Jesus would not have wished him to act as he did, and would fain have kept the whole transaction from the knowledge of his Master.

It is well known that, on the ground of the injunction in Exo_30:13 etc., every male in Israel, from twenty years upwards, was expected annually to contribute to the Temple-Treasury the sum of one half-shekel of the Sanctuary, that is, one common shekel, or two Attic drachms, equivalent to about 1s. 2d. or 1s. 3d. of our money. Whether or not the original Biblical ordinance had been intended to institute a regular annual contribution, the Jews of the Dispersion would probably regard it in the light of a patriotic as well as religious act.

To the particulars previously given on this subject a few others may be added. The family of the Chief of the Sanhedrin (Gamaliel) seems to have enjoyed the curious distinction of bringing their contributions to the Temple-Treasury, not like others, but to have thrown them down before him who opened the Temple-Chest, when they were immediately placed in the box from which, without delay, sacrifices were provided. Again, the commentators explain a certain passage in the Mishnah and the Talmud as implying that, although the Jews in Palestine had to pay the tribute-money before the Passover, those from neighbouring lands might bring it before the Feast of Weeks, and those from such remote countries as Babylonia and Media as late as the Feast of Tabernacles. Lastly, although the Mishnah lays it down, that the goods of those might be distrained, who had not paid the Temple-tribute by the 25th Adar, it is scarcely credible that this obtained at the time of Christ, at any rate in Galilee. Indeed, this seems implied in the statement of the Mishnah and the Talmud, that one of the ‘thirteen trumpets’ in the Temple, into which contributions were cast, was destined for the shekels of the current, and another for those of the preceding year. Finally, these Temple-contributions were in the first place devoted to the purchase of all public sacrifices, that is, those which were offered in the name of the whole congregation of Israel, such as the morning and evening sacrifices. It will be remembered, that this was one of the points in fierce dispute between the Pharisees and Sadducees, and that the former perpetuated their triumph by marking its anniversary as a festive day in their calendar. It seems a terrible irony of judgment when Vespasian ordered, after the destruction of the Temple, that this tribute should henceforth be paid for the rebuilding of the Temple of Jupiter Capitolinus.

It will be remembered that, shortly before the previous Passover, Jesus with His disciples had left Capernaum, that they returned to the latter city only for the Sabbath, and that, as we have suggested, they passed the first Paschal days on the borders of Tyre. We have, indeed, no means of knowing where the Master had tarried during the ten days between the 15th and the 25th Adar, supposing the Mishnic arrangements to have been in force in Capernaum. He was certainly not at Capernaum, and it must also have been known, that He had not gone up to Jerusalem for the Passover. Accordingly, when it was told in Capernaum, that the Rabbi of Nazareth had once more come to what seems to have been His Galilean home, it was only natural, that they who collected the Temple-tribute should have applied for its payment. It is quite possible, that their application may have been, if not prompted, yet quickened, by the wish to involve Him in a breach of so well-known an obligation, or else by a hostile curiosity. Would He, Who took so strangely different views of Jewish observances, and Who made such extraordinary claims, own the duty of paying the Temple-tribute? Had it been owing to His absence, or from principle, that He had not paid it last Passover-season? The question which they put to Peter implies, at least, their doubt.

We have already seen what motives prompted the hasty reply of Peter. He might, indeed, also otherwise, in his rashness, have given an affirmative answer to the inquiry, without first consulting the Master. For there seems little doubt, that Jesus had on former occasions complied with the Jewish custom. But matters were now wholly changed. Since the first Passover, which had marked His first public appearance in the Temple at Jerusalem, He had stated – and quite lately in most explicit terms – that He was the Christ, the Son of God. To have now paid the Temple-tribute, without explanation, might have involved a very serious misapprehension. In view of all this, the history before us seems alike simple and natural. There is no pretext for the artificial construction put upon it by commentators, any more than for the suggestion, that such was the poverty of the Master and His disciples, that the small sum requisite for the Temple-tribute had to be miraculously supplied.

We picture it to ourselves on this wise. Those who received the Tribute-money had come to Peter, and perhaps met him in the court or corridor, and asked him: ‘Your Teacher (Rabbi), does He not pay the didrachma?’ While Peter hastily responded in the affirmative, and then entered into the house to procure the coin, or else to report what had passed, Jesus, Who had been in another part of the house, but was cognisant of all, ‘anticipated him.’ Addressing him in kindly language as ‘Simon,’ He pointed out the real state of matters by an illustration which must, of course, not be too literally pressed, and of which the meaning was: Whom does a King intend to tax for the maintenance of his palace and officers? Surely not his own family, but others. The inference from this, as regarded the Temple-tribute, was obvious. As in all similar Jewish parabolic teaching, it was only indicated in general principle: ‘Then are the children free.’ But even so, be it as Peter had wished, although not from the same motive. Let no needless offence be given; for, assuredly, they would not have understood the principle on which Christ would have refused the Tribute money, and all misunderstanding on the part of Peter was now impossible. Yet Christ would still further vindicate His royal title. He will pay for Peter also, and pay, as heaven’s King, with a Stater, or four-drachm piece, miraculously provided.

Thus viewed, there is, we submit, a moral purpose and spiritual instruction in the provision of the Stater out of the fish’s mouth. The rationalistic explanation of it need not be seriously considered; for any mythical interpretation there is not the shadow of support in Biblical precedent or Jewish expectancy. But the narrative in its literality has a true and high meaning. And if we wished to mark the difference between its sober simplicity and the extravagances of legend, we would remind ourselves, not only of the well-known story of the Ring of Polycrates, but of two somewhat kindred Jewish Haggadahs. They are both intended to glorify the Jewish mode of Sabbath observance. One of them bears that one Joseph, known as ‘the honourer’ of the Sabbath, had a wealthy heathen neighbour, to whom the Chaldaeans had prophesied that all his riches would come to Joseph. To render this impossible, the wealthy man converted all his property into one magnificent gem, which he carefully concealed within his head-gear. Then he took ship, so as for ever to avoid the dangerous vicinity of the Jew. But the wind blew his headgear into the sea, and the gem was swallowed by a fish. And lo! it was the holy season, and they brought to the market a splendid fish. Who would purchase it but Joseph, for none as he would prepare to honour the day by the best which he could provide. But when they opened the fish, the gem was found in it – the moral being: ‘He that borroweth for the Sabbath, the Sabbath will repay him.

The other legend is similar. It was in Rome (in the Christian world) that a poor tailor went to market to buy a fish for a festive meal. Only one was on sale, and for it there was keen competition between the servant of a Prince and the Jew, the latter at last buying it for not less than twelve dinars. At the banquet, the Prince inquired of his servants why no fish had been provided. When he ascertained the cause, he sent for the Jew with the threatening inquiry, how a poor tailor could afford to pay twelve dinars for a fish? ‘My Lord,’ replied the Jew, ‘there is a day on which all our sins are remitted us, and should we not honour it?’ The answer satisfied the Prince. But God rewarded the Jew, for, when the fish was opened, a precious gem was found in it, which he sold, and ever afterwards lived of the proceeds.

The reader can scarcely fail to mark the absolute difference between even the most beautiful Jewish legends and any trait in the Evangelic history.

3. The event next recorded in the Gospels took place partly on the way from the Mount of Transfiguration to Capernaum, and partly in Capernaum itself, immediately after the scene connected with the Tribute-money. It is recorded by the three Evangelists, and it led to explanations and admonitions, which are told by Mark and Luke, but chiefly by Matthew. This circumstance seems to indicate, that the latter was the chief actor in that which occasioned this special teaching and warning of Christ, and that it must have sunk very deeply into his heart.

As we look at it, in the light of the then mental and spiritual state of the Apostles, not in that in which, perhaps naturally, we regard them, what happened seems not difficult to understand. As Mark puts it, by the way they had disputed among themselves which of them would be the greatest – as Matthew explains, in the Messianic Kingdom of Heaven. They might now the more confidently expect its near Advent from the mysterious announcement of the Resurrection on the third day, which they would probably connect with the commencement of the last Judgment, following upon the violent Death of the Messiah. Of a dispute, serious and even violent, among the disciples, we have evidence in the exhortation of the Master, as reported by Mark, in the direction of the Lord how to deal with an offending brother, and in the answering inquiry of Peter. Nor can we be at a loss to perceive its occasion. The distinction just bestowed on the three, in being taken up the Mount, may have roused feelings of jealousy in the others, perhaps of self-exaltation in the three. Alike the spirit which John displayed in his harsh prohibition of the man that did not follow with the disciples, and the self-righteous bargaining of Peter about forgiving the supposed or real offences of a brother, give evidence of anything but the frame of mind which we would have expected after the Vision on the Mount.

In truth, most incongruous as it may appear to us, looking back on it in the light of the Resurrection-day, nay, almost incredible – evidently, the Apostles were still greatly under the influence of the old spirit. It was the common Jewish view, that there would be distinctions of rank in the Kingdom of Heaven. It can scarcely be necessary to prove this by Rabbinic quotations, since the whole system of Rabbinism and Pharisaism, with its separation from the vulgar and ignorant, rests upon it. But even within the charmed circle of Rabbinism, there would be distinctions, due to learning, merit, and even to favouritism. In this world there were His special favourites, who could command anything at His hand, to use the Rabbinic illustration, like a spoilt child from its father.  And in the Messianic age God would assign booths to each according to his rank. On the other hand, many passages could be quoted bearing on the duty of humility and self-abasement. But the stress laid on the merit attaching to this shows too clearly, that it was the pride that apes humility. One instance, previously referred to, will suffice by way of illustration. When the child of the great Rabbi Jochanan ben Zakkai was dangerously ill, he was restored through the prayer of one Chanina ben Dosa. On this the father of the child remarked to his wife: ‘If the son of Zakkai had all day long put his head between his knees, no heed would have been given to him.’ ‘How is that?’ asked his wife; ‘is Chanina greater than thou?’ ‘No, was the reply, ‘he is like a servant before the King, while I am like a prince before the King’ (he is always there, and has thus opportunities which I, as a lord, do not enjoy).

How deep-rooted were such thoughts and feelings, appears not only from the dispute of the disciples by the way, but from the request proffered by the mother of Zebedee’s children and her sons at a later period, in terrible contrast to the near Passion of our Lord. It does, indeed come upon us as a most painful surprise, and as sadly incongruous, this constant self-obtrusion, self-assertion, and low, carnal self-seeking; this Judaistic trifling in face of the utter self-abnegation and self-sacrifice of the Son of Man. Surely, the contrast between Christ and His disciples seems at times almost as great as between Him and the other Jews. If we would measure His Stature, or comprehend the infinite distance between His aims and teaching and those of His contemporaries, let it be by comparison with even the best of His disciples. It must have been part of His humiliation and self-exinanition to bear with them. And is it not, in a sense, still so as regards us all?

We have already seen, that there was quite sufficient occasion and material for such a dispute on the way from the Mount of Transfiguration to Capernaum. We suppose Peter to have been only at the first with the others. To judge by the later question, how often he was to forgive the brother who had sinned against him, he may have been so deeply hurt, that he left the other disciples, and hastened on with the Master, Who would, at any rate, sojourn in his house. For, neither he nor Christ seem to have been present when John and the others forbade the man, who would not follow with them, to cast out demons in Christ’s name. Again, the other disciples only came into Capernaum; and entered the house, just as Peter had gone for the Stater, with which to pay the Temple-tribute for the Master and himself. And, if speculation be permissible, we would suggest that the brother, whose offences Peter found it so difficult to forgive, may have been none other than Judas. In such a dispute by the way, he, with his Judaistic views, would be specially interested; perhaps he may have been its chief instigator; certainly, he, whose natural character, amidst its sharp contrasts to that of Peter, presented so many points of resemblance to it, would, on many grounds, be specially jealous of, and antagonistic to him.

Quite natural in view of this dispute by the way is another incident of the journey, which is afterwards related. As we judge, John seems to have been the principal actor in it; perhaps, in the absence of Peter, he claimed the leadership. They had met one who was casting out demons in the Name of Christ – whether successfully or not, we need scarcely inquire. So widely had faith in the power of Jesus extended; so real was the belief in the subjection of the demons to Him; so reverent was the acknowledgment of Him. A man, who, thus forsaking the methods of Jewish exorcists, owned Jesus in the face of the Jewish world, could not be far from the Kingdom of Heaven; at any rate, he could not quickly speak evil of Him. John had, in name of the disciples, forbidden him, because he had not cast in his lot wholly with them. It was quite in the spirit of their ideas about the Messianic Kingdom, and of their dispute, which of His close followers would be greatest there. And yet, they might deceive themselves as to the motives of their conduct. If it were not almost impertinence to use such terms, we would have said that there was infinite wisdom and kindness in the answer which the Saviour gave, when referred to on the subject. To forbid a man, in such circumstances, would be either prompted by the spirit of the dispute by the way – or else must be grounded on evidence that the motive was, or the effect would untimately be (as in the case of the sons of Sceva) to lead men ‘to speak evil’ of Christ, or to hinder the work of His disciples. Assuredly, such could not have been the case with a man, who invoked His Name, and perhaps experienced its efficacy. More than this – and here is an eternal principle: ‘He that is not against us is for us;’ he that opposeth not the disciples, really is for them – a saying still more clear, when we adopt the better reading in Luke, ‘He that is not against you is for you.’

There was reproof in this, as well as instruction, deeply consistent with that other, though seemingly different, saying: ‘He that is not with Me is against Me.’ The distinction between them is twofold. In the one case it is ‘not against,’ in the other it is ‘not with;’ but chiefly it lies in this: in the one case it is not against the disciples in their work, while in the other it is – not with Christ. A man who did what he could with such knowledge of Christ as he possessed, even although he did not absolutely follow with them, was ‘not against’ them. Such an one should be regarded as thus far with them; at least be let alone, left to Him Who knew all things. Such a man would not lightly speak evil of Christ – and that was all the disciples should care for, unless, indeed, they sought their own. Quite other was it as regarded the relation of a person to the Christ Himself. There neutrality was impossible – and that which was not with Christ, by this very fact was against Him. The lesson is of the most deep-reaching character, and the distinction, alas! still overlooked – perhaps, because ours is too often the spirit of those who journeyed to Capernaum. Not, that it is unimportant to follow with the disciples, but that it is not ours to forbid any work done, however imperfectly, in His Name, and that only one question is really vital – whether or not a man is decidedly with Christ.

Such were the incidents by the way. And now, while withholding from Christ their dispute, and, indeed, anything that might seem personal in the question, the disciples, on entering the house where He was in Capernaum, addressed to Him this inquiry (which should be inserted from the opening words of Matthew’s narrative): ‘Who, then, is greatest in the Kingdom of Heaven?’ It was a general question – but Jesus perceived the thought of their hearts; He knew about what they had disputed by the way, and now asked them concerning it. The account of Mark is most graphic. We almost see the scene. Conscience-stricken ‘they held their peace.’ As we read the further words: ‘And He sat down,’ it seems as if the Master had at first gone to welcome the disciples on their arrival, and they, ‘full of their dispute,’ had, without delay, addressed their inquiry to him in the court or antechamber, where they met Him, when, reading their thoughts, He had first put the searching counter-question, what had been the subject of their dispute. Then, leading the way into the house, ‘He sat down,’ not only to answer their inquiry, which was not a real inquiry, but to teach them what so much they needed to learn. He called a little child – perhaps Peter’s little son – and put him in the midst of them. Not to strive who was to be greatest, but to be utterly without self-consciousness, like a child – thus, to become turned and entirely changed in mind: ‘converted,’ was the condition for entering into the Kingdom of Heaven. Then, as to the question of greatness there, it was really one of greatness of service – and that was greatest service which implied most self-denial. Suiting the action to the teaching, the Blessed Saviour took the happy child in His Arms. Not, to teach, to preach, to work miracles, nor to do great things, but to do the humblest service for Christ’s sake – lovingly, earnestly, wholly, self-forgetfully, simply for Christ, was to receive Christ – nay, to receive the Father. And the smallest service, as it might seem – even the giving a cup of cold water in such spirit, would not lose its reward. Blessed teaching this to the disciples and to us; blessed lesson, which, these many centuries of scorching heat, has been of unspeakable refreshing, alike to the giver and the receiver of the cup of water in the Name of Christ, in the love of Christ, and for the sake of Christ.

These words about receiving Christ, and ‘receiving in the Name of Christ,’ had stirred the memory and conscience of John, and made him half wonder, half fear, whether what they had done by the way, in forbidding the man to do what he could in the name of Christ, had been right. And so he told it, and received the further and higher teaching on the subject. And, more than this, Mark and, more fully, Matthew, record some further instruction in connection with it, to which Luke refers, in a slightly different form, at a somewhat later period. But it seems so congruous to the present occasion, that we conclude it was then spoken, although, like other sayings, it may have been afterwards repeated under similar circumstances. Certainly, no more effective continuation, and application to Jewish minds, of the teaching of our Lord could be conceived than that which follows. For, the love of Christ goes deeper than the condescension of receiving a child, utterly un-Pharisaic and un-Rabbinic as this is. To have regard to the weaknesses of such a child – to its mental and moral ignorance and folly, to adapt ourselves to it, to restrain our fuller knowledge and forego our felt liberty, so as not ‘to offend’ – not to give occasion for stumbling to ‘one of these little ones,’ that so through our knowledge the weak brother for whom Christ died should not perish: this is a lesson which reaches even deeper than the question, what is the condition of entrance into the Kingdom, or what service constitutes real greatness in it. A man may enter into the Kingdom and do service – yet, if in so doing he disregard the law of love to the little ones, far better his work should be abruptly cut short; better, one of those large millstones, turned by an ass, were hung about his neck and he cast into the sea! We pause to note, once more, the Judaic, and, therefore, evidential, setting of the Evangelic narrative. The Talmud also speaks of two kinds of millstones – the one turned by hand (רחיים דידא), referred to in Luk_17:35; the other turned by an ass (μύλος ὀνικός), just as the Talmud also speaks of ‘the ass of the millstone’ (חמרי דריחיא). Similarly, the figure about a millstone hung round the neck occurs also in the Talmud – although there as figurative of almost insuperable difficulties. Again, the expression, ‘it were better for him,’ is a well-known Rabbinic expression (mutaḇ hayah lo). Lastly, according to Jerome, the punishment which seems alluded to in the words of Christ, and which we know to have been inflicted by Augustus, was actually practised by the Romans in Galilee on some of the leaders of the insurrection under Judas of Galilee.

And yet greater guilt would only too surely be incurred! Woe unto the world! Occasions of stumbling and offence will surely come, but woe to the man through whom such havoc was wrought. What then is the alternative? If it be a question as between offence and some part of ourselves, a limb or member, however useful – the hand, the foot, the eye – then let it rather be severed from the body, however painful, or however seemingly great the loss. It cannot be so great as that of the whole being in the eternal fire of Gehenna, where their worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched. Be it hand, foot, or eye – practice, pursuit, or research – which consciously leads us to occasions of stumbling, it must be resolutely put aside in view of the incomparably greater loss of eternal remorse and anguish.

Here Mark abruptly breaks off with a saying in which the Saviour makes general application, although the narrative is further continued by Matthew. The words reported by Mark are so remarkable, so brief, we had almost said truncated, as to require special consideration. It seems to us that, turning from this thought that even members which are intended for useful service may, in certain circumstances, have to be cut off to avoid the greatest loss, the Lord gave to His disciples this as the final summary and explanation of all: ‘For every one shall be salted for the fire’ – or, as a very early gloss, which has strangely crept into the text, paraphrased and explained it, ‘Every sacrifice shall be salted with salt.’ No one is fit for the sacrificial fire, no one can himself be, nor offer anything as a sacrifice, unless it have been first, according to the Levitical Law, covered with salt, symbolic of the incorruptible. ‘Salt is good; but if the salt,’ with which the spiritual sacrifice is to be salted for the fire, ‘have lost its savour, wherewith will ye season it?’ Hence, ‘have salt in yourselves,’ but do not let that salt be corrupted by making it an occasion of offence to others, or among yourselves, as in the dispute by the way, or in the disposition of mind that led to it, or in forbidding others to work who follow not with you, but ‘be at peace among yourselves.’

To this explanation of the words of Christ it may, perhaps, be added that, from their form, they must have conveyed a special meaning to the disciples. It is a well-known law, that every sacrifice burned on the Altar must be salted with salt. Indeed, according to the Talmud, not only every such offering, but even the wood with which the sacrificial fire was kindled, was sprinkled with salt. Salt symbolised to the Jews of that time the incorruptible and the higher. Thus, the soul was compared to the salt, and it was said concerning the dead: ‘Shake off the salt, and throw the flesh to the dogs. The Bible was compared to salt; so was acuteness of intellect. Lastly, the question: ‘If the salt have lost its savour, wherewith will ye season it?’ seems to have been proverbial, and occurs in exactly the same words in the Talmud, apparently to denote a thing that is impossible. 

Most thoroughly anti-Pharisaic and anti-Rabbinic as all this was, what Matthew further reports leads still farther in the same direction. We seem to see Jesus still holding this child, and, with evident reference to the Jewish contempt for that which is small, point to him and apply, in quite other manner than they had ever heard, the Rabbinic teaching about the Angels. In the Jewish view, only the chiefest of the Angels were before the Face of God within the curtained Veil, or pargod, while the others, ranged in different classes, stood outside and awaited his behest. The distinction which the former enjoyed was always to behold His Face, and to hear and know directly the Divine counsels and commands. This distinction was, therefore, one of knowledge; Christ taught that it was one of love. Not the more exalted in knowledge, and merit, or worth, but the simpler, the more unconscious of self, the more receptive and clinging – the nearer to God. Look up from earth to heaven; those representative, it may be, guardian, Angels nearest to God, are not those of deepest knowledge of God’s counsel and commands, but those of simple, humble grace and faith – and so learn, not only not to despise one of these little ones, but who is truly greatest in the Kingdom of Heaven!

Viewed in this light, there is nothing incongruous in the transition: ‘For the Son of Man is come to save that which was lost.’ This, His greatest condescension when He became the Babe of Bethlehem, is also His greatest exaltation. He Who is nearest the Father, and, in the most special and unique sense, always beholds His Face, is He that became a Child, and, as the Son of Man, stoops lowest, to save that which was lost. The words are, indeed, regarded as spurious by most critics, because certain leading manuscripts omit them, and they are supposed to have been imported from Luk_19:10. But such a transference from a context wholly unconnected with this section seems unaccountable, while, on the other hand, the verse in question forms, not only an apt, but almost necessary, transition to the Parable of the Lost Sheep. It seems, therefore, difficult to eliminate it without also striking out that Parable; and yet it fits most beautifully into the whole context. Suffice it for the present to note this. The Parable itself is more fully repeated in another connection, in which it will be more convenient to consider it.

Yet a further depth of Christian love remained to be shown, which, all self-forgetful, sought not its own, but the things of others. This also bore on the circumstances of the time, and the dispute between the disciples, but went far beyond it, and set forth eternal principles. Hitherto it had been a question of not seeking self, nor minding great things, but Christ-like and God-like, to condescend to the little ones. What if actual wrong had been done, and just offence given by a ‘brother?’ In such case, also, the principle of the Kingdom – which, negatively, is that of self-forgetfulness, positively, that of service of love – would first seek the good of the offending brother. We mark, here, the contrast to Rabbinism, which directs that the first overtures must be made by the offender, not the offended; and even prescribes this to be done in the presence of numerous witnesses, and, if needful, repeated three times. As regards the duty of showing to a brother his fault, and the delicate tenderness of doing this in private, so as not to put him to shame, Rabbinism speaks the same as the Master of Nazareth. In fact, according to Jewish criminal law, punishment could not be inflicted unless the offender (even the woman suspected of adultery) had previously been warned before witnesses. Yet, in practice, matters were very different: and neither could those be found who would take reproof, nor yet such as were worthy to administer it.

Quite other was it in the Kingdom of Christ, where the theory was left undefined, but the practice clearly marked. Here, by loving dealing, to convince of his wrong, him who had done it, was not humiliation nor loss of dignity or of right, but real gain: the gain of our brother to us, and eventually to Christ Himself. But even if this should fail, the offended must not desist from his service of love, but conjoin in it others with himself so as to give weight and authority to his remonstrances, as not being the outcome of personal feeling or prejudice – perhaps, also, to be witnesses before the Divine tribunal. If this failed, a final appeal should be made on the part of the Church as a whole, which, of course, could only be done through her representatives and rulers, to whom Divine authority had been committed. And if that were rejected, the offer of love would, as always in the Gospel, pass into danger of judgment. Not, indeed, that such was to be executed by man, but that such an offender, after the first and second admonition, was to be rejected. He was to be treated as was the custom in regard to a heathen or a publican – not persecuted, despised, or avoided, but not received in Church-fellowship (a heathen), nor admitted to close familiar intercourse (a publican). And this, as we understand it, marks out the mode of what is called Church discipline in general, and specifically as regards wrongs done to a brother. Discipline so exercised (which may God restore to us) has the highest Divine sanction, and the most earnest reality attaches to it. For, in virtue of the authority which Christ has committed to the Church in the persons of her rulers and representatives, what they bound or loosed – declared obligatory or non-obligatory – was ratified in heaven. Nor was this to be wondered at. The incarnation of Christ was the link which bound earth to heaven: through it whatever was agreed upon in the fellowship of Christ, as that which was to be asked, would be done for them of his Father Which was in heaven. Thus, the power of the Church reached up to heaven through the power of prayer in His Name Who made God our Father. And so, beyond the exercise of discipline and authority, there was the omnipotence of prayer – ‘if two of you shall agree… as touching anything… it shall be done for them’ – and, with it, also the infinite possibility of a higher service of love. For, in the smallest gathering in the Name of Christ, His Presence would be, and with it the certainty of nearness to, and acceptance with, God.

It is bitterly disappointing that, after such teaching, even a Peter could – either immediately afterwards, or perhaps after he had had time to think it over, and apply it – come to the Master with the question, how often he was to forgive an offending brother, imagining that he had more than satisfied the new requirements, if he extended it to seven times. Such traits show better than elaborate discussions the need of the mission and the renewing of the Holy Ghost. And yet there is something touching in the simplicity and honesty with which Peter goes to the Master with such a misapprehension of His teaching, as if he had fully entered into its spirit. Surely, the new wine was bursting the old bottles. It was a principle of Rabbinism that, even if the wrongdoer had made full restoration, he would not obtain forgiveness till he had asked it of him whom he had wronged, but that it was cruelty in such circumstances to refuse pardon. The Jerusalem Talmud adds the beautiful remark: ‘Let this be a token in thine hand – each time that thou showest mercy, God will show mercy on thee; and if thou showest not mercy, neither will God show mercy on thee.’ And yet it was a settled rule, that forgiveness should not be extended more than three times. Even so, the practice was terribly different. The Talmud relates, without blame, the conduct of a Rabbi, who would not forgive a very small slight of his dignity, though asked by the offender for thirteen successive years, and that on the Day of Atonement – the reason being, that the offended Rabbi had learned by a dream that his offending brother would attain the highest dignity, whereupon he feigned himself irreconcilable, to force the other to migrate from Palestine to Babylon, where, unenvied by him, he might occupy the chief place!

And so it must have seemed to Peter, in his ignorance, quite a stretch of charity to extend forgiveness to seven, instead of three offences. It did not occur to him, that the very act of numbering offences marked an externalism which had never entered into, nor comprehended the spirit of Christ. Until seven times? Nay, until seventy times seven! The evident purport of these words was to efface all such landmarks. Peter had yet to learn, what we, alas! too often forget: that as Christ’s forgiveness, so that of the Christian, must not be computed by numbers. It is qualitative, not quantitative: Christ forgives sin, not sins – and he who has experienced it, follows in His footsteps.

(Joh 7:1-16; Luk 9:1-56; Luk_9:57-62; Mat_8:19-22)

The part in the Evangelic History which we have now reached has this peculiarity and difficulty, that the events are now recorded by only one of the Evangelists. The section from Luk_9:51 to Luk_18:14 stands absolutely alone. From the circumstance that Luke omits throughout his narrative all notation of time or place, the difficulty of arranging here the chronological succession of events is so great, that we can only suggest what seems most probable, without feeling certain of the details. Happily, the period embraced is a short one, while at the same time the narrative of Luke remarkably fits into that of John. John mentions three appearances of Christ in Jerusalem at that period: at the Feast of Tabernacles, at that of the Dedication, and His final entry, which is referred to by all the other Evangelists. But, while the narrative of John confines itself exclusively to what happened in Jerusalem or its immediate neighborhood, it also either mentions or gives sufficient indication that on two out of these three occasions Jesus left Jerusalem for the country east of the Jordan (Joh_10:19-21; Joh_10:39-42, where the words in Joh_10:39, ‘they sought again to take Him,’ point to a previous similar attempt and flight). Besides these, John also records a journey to Bethany – though not to Jerusalem – for the raising of Lazarus, and after that a council against Christ in Jerusalem, in consequence of which He withdrew out of Judaean territory into a district near ‘the wilderness’ – as we infer, that in the north, where John had been baptizing and Christ been tempted, and whither He had afterwards withdrawn. We regard this ‘wilderness’ as on the western bank of the Jordan, and extending northward towards the eastern shore of the Lake of Galilee. If John relates three appearances of Jesus at this time in Jerusalem, Luke records three journeys to Jerusalem, the last of which agrees, in regard to its starting point, with the notices of the other Evangelists, always supposing that we have correctly indicated the locality of ‘the wilderness’ whither, according to Joh_11:54, Christ retired previous to His last journey to Jerusalem. In this respect, although it is impossible with our present information to localise ‘the City of Ephraim,’ the statement that it was ‘near the wilderness,’ affords us sufficient general notice of its situation. For, the New Testament speaks of only two ‘wildernesses,’ that of Judaea in the far South, and that in the far North of Peraea, or perhaps in the Decapolis, to which Luke refers as the scene of the Baptist’s labours, where Jesus was tempted, and whither He afterwards withdrew. We can, therefore, have little doubt that John refers to this district. And this entirely accords with the notices by the other Evangelists of Christ’s last journey to Jerusalem, as through the borders of Galilee and Samaria, and then across the Jordan, and by Bethany to Jerusalem.

It follows (as previously stated) that Luke’s account of the three journeys to Jerusalem fits into the narrative of Christ’s three appearances in Jerusalem as described by John. And the unique section in Luke supplies the record of what took place before, during, and after those journeys, of which the upshot is told by John. This much seems certain; the exact chronological succession must be, in part, matter of suggestion. But we have now some insight into the plan of Luke’s Gospel, as compared with that of the others. We see that Luke forms a kind of transition, is a sort of connecting link between the other two Synoptists and John. This is admitted even by negative critics. The Gospel by Matthew has for its main object the Discourses or teaching of the Lord, around which the History groups itself. It is intended as a demonstration, primarily addressed to the Jews, and in a form peculiarly suited to them, that Jesus was the Messiah, the Son of the Living God. The Gospel by Mark is a rapid survey of the History of the Christ as such. It deals mainly with the Galilean Ministry. The Gospel by John, which gives the highest, the reflective, view of the Eternal Son as the Word, deals almost exclusively with the Jerusalem Ministry. And the Gospel by Luke complements the narratives in the other two Gospels (Matthew and Mark), and it supplements them by tracing, what is not done otherwise: the Ministry in Peraea. Thus, it also forms a transition to the Fourth Gospel of the Judaean Ministry. If we may venture a step further: The Gospel by Mark gives the general view of the Christ; that by Matthew the Jewish, that by Luke the Gentile, and that by John the Church’s view. Imagination might, indeed, go still further, and see the impress of the number five – that of the Pentateuch and the Book of Psalms – in the First Gospel; the numeral four (that of the world) in the Second Gospel (4 x 4=16 chapters); that of three in the Third (8 x 3=24 chapters); and that of seven, the sacred Church number, in the Fourth Gospel (7 x 3=21 chapters). And perhaps we might even succeed in arranging the Gospels into corresponding sections. But this would lead, not only beyond our present task, but from solid history and exegesis into the regions of speculation.

The subject, then, primarily before us, is the journeying of Jesus to Jerusalem. In that wider view which Luke takes of this whole history, he presents what really were three separate journeys as one – that towards the great end. In its conscious aim and object, all – from the moment of His finally quitting Galilee to His final Entry into Jerusalem – formed, in the highest sense, only one journey. And this Luke designates in a peculiar manner. Just as he had spoken, not of Christ’s Death but of His ‘Exodus,’ or outgoing, which included His Resurrection and Ascension, so he now tells us that, ‘when the days of His uptaking’ – including and pointing to His Ascension – ‘were being fulfilled, He also steadfastly set His Face to go to Jerusalem.’

John, indeed, goes farther back, and speaks of the circumstances which preceded His journey to Jerusalem. There is an interval, or, as we might term it, a blank, of more than half a year between the last narrative in the Fourth Gospel and this. For, the events chronicled in the Gospel of Jn 6 took place immediately before the Passover, which was on the fifteenth day of the first ecclesiastical month (Nisan), while the Feast of Tabernacles began on the same day of the seventh ecclesiastical month (tishri). But, except in regard to the commencement of Christ’s Ministry, Jn 6 is the only one which refers to the Galilean Ministry of Christ. We would suggest, that what it records is partly intended to exhibit, by the side of Christ’s fully developed teaching, the fully developed enmity of the Jerusalem Scribes, which led even to the defection of many former disciples. Thus, Jn 6 would be a connecting-link (both as regards the teaching of Christ and the opposition to Him) between Jn 5, which tells of His visit at the ‘Unknown Feast,’ and Jn 7, which records that at the Feast of Tabernacles. The six or seven months between the Feast of Passover and that of Tabernacles, and all that passed within them, are covered by this brief remark: ‘After these things Jesus walked in Galilee: for He would not walk in Judaea, because the Jews [the leaders of the people] sought to kill Him.’

But now the Feast of Tabernacles was at hand. The pilgrims would probably arrive in Jerusalem before the opening day of the Festival. For, besides the needful preparations – which would require time, especially on this Feast, when booths had to be constructed in which to live during the festive week – it was (as we remember) the common practice to offer such sacrifices as might have previously become due at any of the great Feasts to which the people might go up. Remembering that five months had elapsed since the last great Feast (that of Weeks), many such sacrifices must have been due. Accordingly, the ordinary festive companies of pilgrims, which would travel slowly, must have started from Galilee some time before the beginning of the Feast. These circumstances fully explain the details of the narrative. They also afford another most painful illustration of the loneliness of Christ in His Work. His disciples had failed to understand, they misapprehended His teaching. In the near prospect of His Death they either displayed gross ignorance, or else disputed about their future rank. And His own ‘brethren’ did not believe in Him. The whole course of late events, especially the unmet challenge of the Scribes for ‘a sign from heaven,’ had deeply shaken them. What was the purpose of ‘works,’ if done in the privacy of the circle of Christ’s Apostles, in a house, a remote district, or even before an ignorant multitude? If, claiming to be the Messiah, He wished to be openly known as such, He must use other means. If He really did these things, let Him manifest Himself before the world – in Jerusalem, the capital of their world, and before those who could test the reality of His Works. Let Him come forward, at one of Israel’s great Feasts, in the Temple, and especially at this Feast which pointed to the Messianic ingathering of all nations. Let Him now go up with them in the festive company into Judaea, that so His disciples – not the Galileans only, but all – might have the opportunity of ‘gazing’ on His Works.

As the challenge was not new, so, from the worldly point of view, it can scarcely be called unreasonable. It is, in fact, the same in principle as that to which the world would now submit the claims of Christianity to men’s acceptance. It has only this one fault, that it ignores the world’s enmity to the Christ. Discipleship is not the result of any outward manifestation by ‘evidences’ or demonstration. It requires the conversion of a child-like spirit. To manifest Himself! This truly would He do, though not in their way. For this ‘the season’ had not yet come, though it would soon arrive. Their ‘season’ – that for such Messianic manifestations as they contemplated – was ‘always ready.’ And this naturally, for ‘the world’ could not ‘hate’ them; they and their demonstrations were quite in accordance with the world and its views. But towards Him the world cherished personal hatred, because of their contrariety of principle, because Christ was manifested, not to restore an earthly kingdom to Israel, but to bring the Heavenly Kingdom upon earth – ‘to destroy the works of the Devil.’ Hence, He must provoke the enmity of that world which lay in the Wicked One. Another manifestation than that which they sought would He make, when His ‘season was fulfilled;’ soon, beginning at this very Feast, continued at the next, and completed at the last Passover; such manifestation of Himself as the Christ, as could alone be made in view of the essential enmity of the world.

And so He let them go up in the festive company, while Himself tarried. When the noise and publicity (which He wished to avoid) were no longer to be apprehended, He also went up, but privately, not publicly, as they had suggested. Here Luke’s account begins. It almost reads like a commentary on what the Lord had just said to His brethren, about the enmity of the world, and His mode of manifestation – who would not, and who would receive Him, and why. ‘He came unto His own, and His own received Him not. But as many as received Him, to them gave He power to become children of God… which were born… of God.’

The first purpose of Christ seems to have been to take the more direct road to Jerusalem, through Samaria, and not to follow that of the festive pilgrim-bands, which travelled to Jerusalem through Peraea, in order to avoid the hand of their hated rivals. But His intention was soon frustrated. In the very first Samaritan village to which the Christ had sent beforehand to prepare for Himself and His company, His messengers were told that the Rabbi could not be received; that neither hospitality nor friendly treatment could be extended to One Who was going up to the Feast at Jerusalem. The messengers who brought back this strangely un-Oriental answer met the Master and His followers on the road. It was not only an outrage on common manners, but an act of open hostility to Israel, as well as to Christ, and the ‘Sons of Thunder,’ whose feelings for their Master were, perhaps, the more deeply stirred as opposition to Him grew more fierce, proposed to vindicate the cause, alike of Israel and its Messiah-King, by the open and Divine judgment of fire called down from heaven to destroy that village. Did they in this connection think of the vision of Elijah, ministering to Christ on the Mount of Transfiguration – and was this their application of it? Truly, they knew not of what Spirit they were to be the children and messengers. He Who had come, not to destroy, but to save, turned and rebuked them, and passed from Samaritan into Jewish territory to pursue His journey. Perhaps, indeed, He had only passed into Samaria to teach His disciples this needful lesson. The view of this event just presented seems confirmed by the circumstance, that Matthew lays the scene immediately following ‘on the other side’ – that is, in the Decapolis.

It was a journey of deepest interest and importance. For, it was decisive not only as regarded the Master, but those who followed Him. Henceforth it must not be, as in former times, but wholly and exclusively, as into suffering and death. It is thus that we view the next three incidents of the way. Two of them find, also, a place in the Gospel by Matthew, although in a different connection, in accordance with the plan of that Gospel, which groups together the Teaching of Christ, with but secondary attention to chronological succession.

It seems that, as, after the rebuff of these Samaritans, they ‘were going’ towards another, and a Jewish village, ‘one’ of the company, and, as we learn from Matthew, ‘a Scribe,’ in the generous enthusiasm of the moment – perhaps, stimulated by the wrong of the Samaritans, perhaps, touched by the love which would rebuke the zeal of the disciples, but had no word of blame for the unkindness of others – broke into a spontaneous declaration of readiness to follow Him absolutely and everywhere. Like the benediction of the woman who heard Him, it was one of these outbursts of an enthusiasm which His Presence awakened in every susceptible heart. But there was one eventuality which that Scribe, and all of like enthusiasm, reckoned not with – the utter homelessness of the Christ in this world – and this, not from accidental circumstances, but because He was ‘the Son of Man.’ And there is here also material for still deeper thought in the fact that this man was ‘a Scribe,’ and yet had not gone up to the Feast, but tarried near Christ – was ‘one’ of those that followed Him now, and was capable of such feelings! How many whom we regard as Scribes, may be in analogous relation to the Christ, and yet how much of fair promise has failed to ripen into reality in view of the homelessness of Christ and Christianity in this world – the strangership of suffering which it involves to those who would follow, not somewhere, but absolutely, and everywhere?

The intenseness of the self-denial involved in following Christ, and its contrariety to all that was commonly received among men, was, purposely, immediately further brought out. This Scribe had proffered to follow Jesus. Another of his disciples He asked to follow Him, and that in circumstances of peculiar trial and difficulty. The expression ‘to follow’ a Teacher would, in those days, be universally understood as implying discipleship. Again, no other duty would be regarded as more sacred than that they, on whom the obligation naturally devolved, should bury the dead. To this everything must give way – even prayer, and the study of the Law. Lastly, we feel morally certain, that, when Christ called this disciple to follow Him, He was fully aware that at that very moment his father lay dead. Thus, He called him not only to homelessness – for this he might have been prepared – but to set aside what alike natural feeling and the Jewish Law seemed to impose on him as the most sacred duty. In the seemingly strange reply, which Christ made to the request to be allowed first to bury his father, we pass over the consideration that, according to Jewish law, the burial and mourning for a dead father, and the subsequent purifications, would have occupied many days, so that it might have been difficult, perhaps impossible, to overtake Christ. We would rather abide by the simple words of Christ. They teach us this very solemn and searching lesson, that there are higher duties than either those of the Jewish Law, or even of natural reverence, and a higher call than that of man. No doubt Christ had here in view the near call to the Seventy – of whom this disciple was to be one – to ‘go and preach the Kingdom of God.’ When the direct call of Christ to any work comes – that is, if we are sure of it from His own words, and not (as, alas! too often we do) only infer it by our own reasoning on His words – then every other call must give way. For, duties can never be in conflict – and this duty about the living and life must take precedence of that about death and the dead. Nor must we hesitate, because we know not in what form this work for Christ may come. There are critical moments in our inner history, when to postpone the immediate call, is really to reject it; when to go and bury the dead – even though it were a dead father – were to die ourselves!

Yet another hindrance to following Christ was to be faced. Another in the company that followed Christ would go with Him, but he asked permission first to go and bid farewell to those whom he had left in his home. It almost seems as if this request had been one of those ‘tempting’ questions, addressed to Christ. But, even if otherwise, the farewell proposed was not like that of Elisha, nor like the supper of Levi-Matthew. It was rather like the year which Jephtha’s daughter would have with her companions, ere fulfilling the vow. It shows, that to follow Christ was regarded as a duty, and to leave those in the earthly home as a trial; and it betokens, not merely a divided heart, but one not fit for the Kingdom of God. For, how can he draw a straight furrow in which to cast the seed, who, as he puts his hand to the plough, looks around or behind him?

Thus, these are the three vital conditions of following Christ: absolute self-denial and homelessness in the world; immediate and entire self-surrender to Christ and His Work, and a heart and affections simple, undivided, and set on Christ and His Work, to which there is no other trial of parting like that which would involve parting from Him, no other or higher joy than that of following Him. In such spirit let them now go after Christ in His last journey – and to such work as He will appoint them!

(Luk 10:1-16; Mat_9:36-38; Mat_11:20-24; Luk_10:17-24; Mat_11:25-30; Mat_13:16; Luk_10:25; Luk_10:38-42)

Although, for the reasons explained in the previous chapter, the exact succession of events cannot be absolutely determined, it seems most likely, that it was on His progress southwards at this time that Jesus ‘designated’ those ‘seventy’ ‘others,’ who were to herald His arrival in every town and village. Even the circumstance, that the instructions to them are so similar to, and yet distinct from, those formerly given to the Twelve, seems to point to them as those from whom the Seventy are to be distinguished as ‘other.’ We judge, that they were sent forth at this time, first, from the Gospel of Luke, where this whole section appears as a distinct and separate record, presumably, chronologically arranged; secondly, from the fitness of such a mission at that particular period, when Jesus made His last Missionary progress towards Jerusalem: and, thirdly, from the unlikelihood, if not impossibility, of taking such a public step after the persecution which broke out after His appearance at Jerusalem on the Feast of Tabernacles. At any rate, it could not have taken place later than in the period between the Feast of Tabernacles and that of the Dedication of the Temple, since, after that, Jesus ‘walked no more openly among the Jews.’

With all their similarity, there are notable differences between the Mission of the Twelve and this of ‘the other Seventy.’ Let it be noted, that the former is recorded by the three Evangelists, so that there could have been no confusion on the part of Luke. But the mission of the Twelve was on their appointment to the Apostolate; it was evangelistic and missionary; and it was in confirmation and manifestation of the ‘power and authority’ given to them. We regard it, therefore, as symbolical of the Apostolate just instituted, with its work and authority. On the other hand, no power or authority was formally conferred on the Seventy, their mission being only temporary, and, indeed, for one definite purpose; its primary object was to prepare for the coming of the Master in the places to which they were sent: and their selection was from the wider circle of disciples, the number being now Seventy instead of Twelve. Even these two numbers, as well as the difference in the functions of the two classes of messengers, seem to indicate that the Twelve symbolised the princes of the tribes of Israel, while the Seventy were the symbolical representatives of these tribes, like the seventy elders appointed to assist Moses.  This symbolical meaning of the number Seventy continued among the Jews. We can trace it in the LXX. (supposed) translators of the Bible into Greek, and in the seventy members of the Sanhedrin, or supreme court.

There was something very significant in this appearance of Christ’s messengers, by two and two, in every place He was about to visit. As John the Baptist had, at the first, heralded the Coming of Christ, so now two heralds appeared to solemnly announce His Advent at the close of His Ministry; as John had sought, as the representative of the Old Testament Church, to prepare His Way, so they, as the representatives of the New Testament Church. In both cases the preparation sought was a moral one. It was the national summons to open the gates to the rightful King, and accept His rule. Only, the need was now the greater for the failure of John’s mission, through the misunderstanding and disbelief of the nation. This conjunction with John the Baptist and the failure of his mission, as regarded national results, accounts for the insertion in Matthew’s Gospel of part of the address delivered on the Mission of the Seventy, immediately after the record of Christ’s rebuke of the national rejection of the Baptist. For Matthew, who (as well as Mark) records not the Mission of the Seventy – simply because (as before explained) the whole section, of which it forms part, is peculiar to Luke’s Gospel – reports ‘the Discourses’ connected with it in other, and to them congruous, connections.

We mark, that, what may be termed ‘the Preface’ to the Mission of the Seventy, is given by Matthew (in a somewhat fuller form) as that to the appointment and mission of the Twelve Apostles; and it may have been, that kindred words had preceded both. Partially, indeed, the expressions reported in Luk_10:2 had been employed long before. Those ‘multitudes’ throughout Israel – nay, those also which ‘are not of that flock’ – appeared to His view like sheep without a true shepherd’s care, ‘distressed and prostrate,’ and their mute misery and only partly conscious longing appealed, and not in vain, to His Divine compassion. This constituted the ultimate ground of the Mission of the Apostles, and now of that of the Seventy, into a harvest that was truly great. Compared with the extent of the field, and the urgency of the work, how few were the labourers! Yet, as the field was God’s, so also could He alone ‘thrust forth labourers’ willing and able to do His work, while it must be ours to pray that He would be pleased to do so.

On these introductory words, which ever since have formed ‘the bidding prayer’ of the Church in her work for Christ, followed the commission and special directions to the thirty-five pairs of disciples who went on this embassy. In almost every particular they are the same as those formerly given to the Twelve. We mark, however, that both the introductory and the concluding words addressed to the Apostles are wanting in what was said to the Seventy. It was not necessary to warn them against going to the Samaritans, since the direction of the Seventy was to those cities of Peraea and Judaea, on the road to Jerusalem, through which Christ was about to pass. Nor were they armed with precisely the same supernatural powers as the Twelve. Naturally, the personal directions as to their conduct were in both cases substantially the same. We mark only three peculiarities in those addressed to the Seventy. The direction to ‘salute no man by the way’ was suitable to a temporary and rapid mission, which might have been sadly interrupted by making or renewing acquaintances. Both the Mishnah and the Talmud lay it down, that prayer was not to be interrupted to salute even a king, nay, to uncoil a serpent that had wound round the foot. On the other hand, the Rabbis discussed the question, whether the reading of the shema and of the portion of the Ps called the halel might be interrupted at the close of a paragraph, from respect for a person, or interrupted in the middle, from motives of fear. All agreed, that immediately before prayer no one should be saluted, to prevent distraction, and it was advised rather to summarise or to cut short than to break into prayer, though the latter might be admissible in case of absolute necessity. None of these provisions, however, seems to have been in the mind of Christ. If any parallel is to be sought, it would be found in the similar direction of Elisha to Gehazi, when sent to lay the prophet’s staff on the dead child of the Shunammite.

The other two peculiarities in the address to the Seventy seem verbal rather than real. The expression, ‘if the Son of Peace be there,’ is a Hebraism, equivalent to ‘if the house be worthy,’ and refers to the character of the head of the house and the tone of the household. Lastly, the direction to eat and drink such things as were set before them is only a further explanation of the command to abide in the house which had received them, without seeking for better entertainment. On the other hand, the whole most important close of the address to the Twelve – which, indeed, forms by far the largest part of it – is wanting in the commission to the Seventy, thus clearly marking its merely temporary character.

In Luke’s Gospel, the address to the Seventy is followed by a denunciation of Chorazin and Bethsaida. This is evidently in its right place there, after the Ministry of Christ in Galilee had been completed and finally rejected. In Matthew’s Gospel, it stands (for a reason already indicated) immediately after the Lord’s rebuke of the popular rejection of the Baptist’s message. The ‘woe’ pronounced on those cities, in which ‘most of His mighty works were done,’ is in proportion to the greatness of their privileges. The denunciation of Chorazin and Bethsaida is the more remarkable, that Chorazin is not otherwise mentioned in the Gospels, nor yet any miracles recorded as having taken place in (the western) Bethsaida. From this two inferences seem inevitable. First, this history must be real. If the whole were legendary, Jesus would not be represented as selecting the names of places, which the writer had not connected with the legend. Again, apparently no record has been preserved in the Gospels of most of Christ’s miracles – only those being narrated which were necessary in order to present Jesus as the Christ, in accordance with the respective plans on which each of the Gospels was constructed.

As already stated, the denunciations were in proportion to the privileges, and hence to the guilt, of the unbelieving cities. Chorazin and Bethsaida are compared with Tyre and Sidon, which under similar admonitions would have repented, while Capernaum, which, as for so long the home of Jesus, had truly ‘been exalted to heaven,’ is compared with Sodom. And such guilt involved greater punishment. The very site of Bethsaida and Chorazin cannot be fixed with certainty. The former probably represents the ‘Fisherton’ of Capernaum, the latter seems to have almost disappeared from the shore of the Lake. Jerome places it two miles from Capernaum. If so, it may be represented by the modern Kerâzeh, somewhat to the north-west of Capernaum. The site would correspond with the name. For Kerâzeh is at present ‘a spring with an insignificant ruin above it,’ and the name Chorazin may well be derived from keroz (כְּרוֹז) a water-jar – Cherozin, or ‘Chorazin,’ the water-jars. If so, we can readily understand that the ‘Fisherton’ on the south side of Capernaum, and the well-known springs, ‘Chorazin,’ on the other side of it, may have been the frequent scene of Christ’s miracles. This explains also, in part, why the miracles there wrought had not been told as well as those done in Capernaum itself. In the Talmud a Chorazin, or rather Chorzim, is mentioned as celebrated for its wheat. But as for Capernaum itself – standing on that vast field of ruins and upturned stones which marks the site of the modern Tell Hûm, we feel that no description of it could be more pictorially true than that in which Christ prophetically likened the city in its downfall to the desolateness of death and ‘Hades.’

Whether or not the Seventy actually returned to Jesus before the Feast of Tabernacles, it is convenient to consider in this connection the result of their Mission. It had filled them with the ‘joy’ of assurance; nay, the result had exceeded their expectations, just as their faith had gone beyond the mere letter unto the spirit of His Words. As they reported it to Him, even the demons had been subject to them through His Name. In this they had exceeded the letter of Christ’s commission; but as they made experiment of it, their faith had grown, and they had applied His command to ‘heal the sick’ to the worst of all sufferers, those grievously vexed by demons. And, as always, their faith was not disappointed. Nor could it be otherwise. The great contest had been long decided; it only remained for the faith of the Church to gather the fruits of that victory. The Prince of Light and Life had vanquished the Prince of Darkness and Death. The Prince of this world must be cast out. In spirit, Christ gazed on ‘Satan fallen as lightning from heaven.’ As one has aptly paraphrased it: While you cast out his subjects, I saw the prince himself fall.’ It has been asked, whether the words of Christ referred to any particular event, such as His Victory in the Temptation. But any such limitation would imply grievous misunderstanding of the whole. So to speak, the fall of Satan is to the bottomless pit; ever going on to the final triumph of Christ. As the Lord beholds him, he is fallen from heaven – from the seat of power and of worship; for, his mastery is broken by the Stronger than he. And he is fallen like lightning, in its rapidity, dazzling splendour, and destructiveness. Yet as we perceive it, it is only demons cast out in His Name. For still is this fight and sight continued, and to all ages of the present dispensation. Each time the faith of the Church casts out demons – whether as formerly, or as they presently vex men, whether in the lighter combat about possession of the body, or in the sorer fight about possession of the soul – as Christ beholds it, it is ever Satan fallen. For, he sees of the travail of His soul, and is satisfied. And so also is there joy in heaven over every sinner that repenteth. The authority and power over ‘the demons,’ attained by faith, was not to pass away with the occasion that had called it forth. The Seventy were the representatives of the Church in her work of preparing for the Advent of Christ. As already indicated, the sight of Satan fallen from heaven is the continuous history of the Church. What the faith of the Seventy had attained was now to be made permanent to the Church, whose representatives they were. For, the words in which Christ now gave authority and power to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the Enemy, and the promise that nothing should hurt them, could not have been addressed to the Seventy for a Mission which had now come to an end, except in so far as they represented the Church Universal. It is almost needless to add, that those ‘serpents and scorpions’ are not to be literally but symbolically understood.  Yet it is not this power or authority which is to be the main joy either of the Church or the individual, but the fact that our names are written in heaven. And so Christ brings us back to His great teaching about the need of becoming children, and wherein lies the secret of true greatness in the Kingdom.

It is beautifully in the spirit of all this, when we read that the joy of the disciples was met by that of the Master, and that His teaching presently merged into a prayer of thanksgiving. Throughout the occurrences since the Transfiguration, we have noticed an increasing antithesis to the teaching of the Rabbis. But it almost reached its climax in the thanksgiving, that the Father in heaven had hid these things from the wise and the understanding, and revealed them unto babes. As we view it in the light of those times, we know that ‘the wise and understanding’ – the Rabbi and the Scribe – could not, from their standpoint, have perceived them; nay, that it is matter of never-ending thanks that, not what they, but what ‘the babes,’ understood, was – as alone it could be – the subject of the Heavenly Father’s revelation. We even tremble to think how it would have fared with ‘the babes,’ if ‘the wise and understanding’ had had part with them in the knowledge revealed. And so it must ever be, not only the Law of the Kingdom and the fundamental principle of Divine Revelation, but matter for thanksgiving, that, not as ‘wise and understanding,’ but only as ‘babes’-as ‘converted,’ ‘like children’ – we can share in that knowledge which maketh wise unto salvation. And this truly is the Gospel, and the Father’s good pleasure.

The words, with which Christ turned from this Address to the Seventy and thanksgiving to God, seem almost like the Father’s answer to the prayer of the Son. They refer to, and explain, the authority which Jesus had bestowed on His Church: ‘All things were delivered to Me of My Father;’ and they afford the highest rationale for the fact, that these things had been hid from the wise and revealed unto babes. For, as no man, only the Father, could have full knowledge of the Son, and, conversely, no man, only the Son, had true knowledge of the Father, it followed, that this knowledge came to us, not of Wisdom or learning, but only through the Revelation of Christ: ‘No one knoweth Who the Son is, save the Father; and Who the Father is, save the Son, and he to whomsoever the Son willeth to reveal Him.’

Matthew, who also records this – although in a different connection, immediately after the denunciation of the unbelief of Chorazin, Bethsaida, and Capernaum – concludes this section by words which have ever since been the grand text of those who, following in the wake of the Seventy, have been ambassadors for Christ. On the other hand, Luke concludes this part of his narrative by adducing words equally, congruous to the occasion which, indeed, are not new in the mouth of the Lord. From their suitableness to what had preceded, we can have little doubt that both that which Matthew, and that which Luke, reports was spoken on this occasion. Because knowledge of the Father came only through the Son, and because these things were hidden from the wise and revealed to ‘babes,’ did the gracious Lord open His Arms so wide, and bid all that laboured and were heavy laden come to Him. These were the sheep, distressed and prostrate, whom to gather, that He might give them rest, He had sent forth the Seventy on a work, for which He had prayed the Father to thrust forth labourers, and which He has since entrusted to the faith and service of love of the Church. And the true wisdom, which qualified for the Kingdom, was to take up His yoke, which would be found easy, and a lightsome burden, not like that unbearable yoke of Rabbinic conditions; and the true understanding to be sought, was by learning of Him. In that wisdom of entering the Kingdom by taking up its yoke, and in that knowledge which came by learning of Him, Christ was Himself alike the true lesson and the best Teacher for those ‘babes.’ For He is meek and lowly in heart. He had done what He taught, and He taught what He had done; and so, by coming unto Him, would true rest be found for the soul.

These words, as recorded by Matthew – the Evangelist of the Jews – must have sunk the deeper into the hearts of Christ’s Jewish hearers, that they came in their own old familiar form of speech, yet with such contrast of spirit. One of the most common figurative expressions of the time was that of ‘the yoke’(עול), to indicate submission to an occupation or obligation. Thus, we read not only of the ‘yoke of the Law,’ but of that of ‘earthly governments,’ and ordinary ‘civil obligations.’ Very instructive for the understanding of the figure is this paraphrase of Son_1:10 : ‘How beautiful is their neck for bearing the yoke of Thy statutes: and it shall be upon them like the yoke on the neck of the ox that plougheth in the field, and provideth food for himself and his master.  This yoke might be ‘cast off,’ as the ten tribes had cast off that ‘of God,’ and thus brought on themselves their exile. On the other hand, to ‘take upon oneself the yoke’ (קבל עול) meant to submit to it of free choice and deliberate resolution. Thus, in the allegorism of the Midrash, in the inscription, Pro_30:1, concerning ‘Agur, the son of Jakeh’ – which is viewed as a symbolical designation of Solomon – the word ‘masa,’ rendered in the Authorized Version ‘prophesy,’ is thus explained in reference to Solomon: ‘masa, because he lifted on himself (nasa) the yoke of the Holy One, blessed be He.’ And of Isaiah it was said, that he had been privileged to prophesy of so many blessings, ‘because he had taken upon himself the yoke of the Kingdom of Heaven with joy.  And, as previously stated, it was set forth that in the ‘shema,’ or Creed – which was repeated every day – the words, Deu_6:4-9, were recited before those in Deu_11:13-21, so as first generally to ‘take upon ourselves the yoke of the Kingdom of Heaven, and only afterwards that of the commandments.’  And this yoke all Israel had taken upon itself, thereby gaining the merit ever afterwards imputed to them.

Yet, practically, ‘the yoke of the Kingdom’ was none other than that ‘of the Law’ and ‘of the commandments;’ one of laborious performances and of impossible self-righteousness. It was ‘unbearable,’ not ‘the easy’ and lightsome yoke of Christ, in which the Kingdom of God was of faith, not of works. And, as if themselves to bear witness to this, we have this saying of theirs, terribly significant in this connection: ‘Not like those formerly (the first), who made for themselves the yoke of the Law easy and light; but like those after them (those afterwards), who made the yoke of the Law upon them heavy!’ And, indeed, this voluntary making of the yoke as heavy as possible, the taking on themselves as many obligations as possible, was the ideal of Rabbinic piety. There was, therefore, peculiar teaching and comfort in the words of Christ; and well might He add, as Luke reports, that blessed were they who saw and heard these things. For, that Messianic Kingdom, which had been the object of rapt vision and earnest longing to prophets and kings of old had now become reality.

Abounding as this history is in contrasts, it seems not unlikely, that the scene next recorded by Luke stands in its right place. Such an inquiry on the part of a ‘certain lawyer,’ as to what he should do to inherit eternal life, together with Christ’s Parabolic teaching about the Good Samaritan, is evidently congruous to the previous teaching of Christ about entering into the Kingdom of Heaven. Possibly, this Scribe may have understood the words of the Master about these things being hid from the wise, and the need of taking up the yoke of the Kingdom, as enforcing the views of those Rabbinic teachers, who laid more stress upon good works than upon study. Perhaps himself belonged to that minority, although his question was intended to tempt – to try whether the Master would stand the Rabbinic test, alike morally and dialectically. And, without at present entering on the Parable which gives Christ’s final answer (and which will best be considered together with the others belonging to that period), it will be seen how peculiarly suited it was to the state of mind just supposed.

From this interruption, which, but for the teaching of Christ connected with it, would have formed a terrible discord in the heavenly harmony of this journey, we turn to a far other scene. It follows in the course of Luke’s narrative, and we have no reason to consider it out of its proper place. If so, it must mark the close of Christ’s journey to the Feast of Tabernacles, since the home of Martha and Mary, to which it introduces us, was in Bethany, close to Jerusalem, almost one of its suburbs. Other indications, confirmatory of this note of time, are not wanting. Thus, the history which follows that of the home of Bethany, when one of His disciples asks Him to teach them to pray, as the Baptist had similarly taught his followers, seems to indicate, that they were then on the scene of John’s former labours – north-east of Bethany; and, hence, that it occurred on Christ’s return from Jerusalem. Again, from the narrative of Christ’s reception in the house of Martha, we gather that Jesus had arrived in Bethany with His disciples, but that He alone was the guest of the two sisters. We infer that Christ had dismissed His disciples to go into the neighbouring City for the Feast, while Himself tarried in Bethany. Lastly, with all this agrees the notice in Joh_7:14, that it was not at the beginning, but ‘about the midst of the feast,’ that ‘Jesus went up into the Temple.’ Although travelling on the two first festive days was not actually unlawful, yet we can scarcely conceive that Jesus would have done so – especially on the Feast of Tabernacles; and the inference is obvious, that Jesus had tarried in the immediate neighbourhood, as we know He did at Bethany in the house of Martha and Mary.

Other things, also, do so explain themselves – notably, the absence of the brother of Martha and Mary, who probably spent the festive days in the City itself. It was the beginning of the Feast of Tabernacles, and the scene recorded by Luke would take place in the open leafy booth which served as the sitting apartment during the festive week. For, according to law, it was duty during the festive week to eat, sleep, pray, study – in short, to live – in these booths, which were to be constructed of the boughs of living trees. And, although this was not absolutely obligatory on women, yet, the rule which bade all make ‘the booth the principal, and the house only the secondary dwelling,’ would induce them to make this leafy tent at least the sitting apartment alike for men and women. And, indeed, those autumn days were just the season when it would be joy to sit in these delightful cool retreats – the memorials of Israel’s pilgrim-days! They were high enough, and yet not too high; chiefly open in front; close enough to be shady, and yet not so close as to exclude sunlight and air. Such would be the apartment in which what is recorded passed; and, if we add that this booth stood probably in the court, we can picture to ourselves Martha moving forwards and backwards on her busy errands, and seeing, as she passed again and again, Mary still sitting a rapt listener, not heeding what passed around; and, lastly, how the elder sister could, as the language of Luk_10:40 implies, enter so suddenly the Master’s Presence, bringing her complaint.

To understand this history, we must dismiss from our minds preconceived, though, perhaps, attractive thoughts. There is no evidence that the household of Bethany had previously belonged to the circle of Christ’s professed disciples. It was, as the whole history shows, a wealthy home. It consisted of two sisters – the elder, Martha (a not uncommon Jewish name, being the feminine of mar, and equivalent to our word ‘mistress’); the younger, Mary; and their brother Lazarus, or, laazar. Although we know not how it came, yet, evidently, the house was Martha’s, and into it she received Jesus on His arrival in Bethany. It would have been no uncommon occurrence in Israel for a pious, wealthy lady to receive a great Rabbi into her house. But the present was not an ordinary case. Martha must have heard of Him, even if she had not seen Him. But, indeed, the whole narrative implies, that Jesus had come to Bethany with the view of accepting the hospitality of Martha, which probably had been proffered when some of those ‘Seventy,’ sojourning in the worthiest house at Bethany, had announced the near arrival of the Master. Still, her bearing affords only indication of being drawn towards Christ – at most, of a sincere desire to learn the good news, not of actual discipleship.

And so Jesus came – and, with Him and in Him, Heaven’s own Light and Peace. He was to lodge in one of the booths, the sisters in the house, and the great booth in the middle of the courtyard would be the common living apartment of all. It could not have been long after His arrival – it must have been almost immediately, that the sisters felt they had received more than an Angel unawares. How best to do Him honour, was equally the thought of both. To Martha it seemed, as if she could not do enough in showing Him all hospitality. And, indeed, this festive season was a busy time for the mistress of a wealthy household, especially in the near neighbourhood of Jerusalem, whence her brother might, after the first two festive days, bring with him, any time that week, honoured guests from the City. To these cares was now added that of doing sufficient honour to such a Guest – for she, also, deeply felt His greatness. And so she hurried to and fro through the courtyard, literally, ‘distracted about much serving.’

Her younger sister, also, would do Him all highest honour; but, not as Martha. Her homage consisted in forgetting all else but Him, Who spake as none had ever done. As truest courtesy or affection consists, nor in its demonstrations, but in being so absorbed in the object of it as to forget its demonstration, so with Mary in the Presence of Christ. And then a new Light, another Day had risen upon her; a fresh life had sprung up within her soul: ‘She sat at the Lord’s Feet, and heard his Word.’ We dare not inquire, and yet we well know, of what it would be. And so, time after time – perhaps, hour after hour – as Martha passed on her busy way, she still sat listening and living. At last, the sister who, in her impatience, could not think that a woman could, in such manner, fulfil her duty, or show forth her religious profiting, broke in with what sounds like a querulous complaint: ‘Lord, dost Thou not care that my sister did leave me to serve alone?’ Mary had served with her, but she had now left her to do the work alone. Would the Master bid her resume her neglected work? But, with tone of gentle reproof and admonition, the affectionateness of which appeared even in the repetition of her name, Martha, Martha – as, similarly, on a later occasion, Simon, Simon – did He teach her in words which, however simple in their primary meaning, are so full, that they have ever since borne the most many-sided application: ‘Thou art careful and anxious about many things; but one thing is needful; and Mary hath chosen that good part, which shall not be taken away from her.’ It was, as we imagine, perhaps the first day of, or else the preparation for, the Feast. More than that one day did Jesus tarry in the home of Bethany. Whether Lazarus came then to see Him – and, still more, what both Martha and Mary learned, either then, or afterwards, we reverently forbear to search into. Suffice it, that though the natural disposition of the sisters remained what it had been, yet henceforth, ‘Jesus loved Martha and her sister.’