The alabaster cruse.
A scene of great interest and beauty is described in these words and in the supplement supplied by St. Matthew and St. John. On the last sabbath eve before his crucifixion, Jesus came to Bethany. In the house of Simon the leper a feast was made in his honor. The disciples were there, and, of necessity, Martha and her sister Mary, and Lazarus. What a representative group! Simon, the type of suffering, healed, and restored human nature. Lazarus, a living testimony to the Lord's power over life and death—a blossom from the tree of life plucked in that early spring-time, promising a final fruitfulness in richness and beauty. Martha, who in her true character served, type of all faithful, diligent, practical, hardworking disciples. Mary, who also served in her way, with her heart full of meditative love; the incarnation of pure, rapt, fervent devotion, and the sanctity of deep thought. And the disciples were there. Those wonderful men, who have led and will continue to lead the world, as the pillar of cloud of old time led the hosts of God through the desert. And the Master was there, sanctifying all life, as he was the Spring of all. Jesus was there, about whom we cannot say too much. They had met in his honor, for he received honor and hospitality from lowly men. They were met in his Name, and he was "in the midst." Around, outside, were the assailants, the Pharisees and the multitude, the powers of the world, surrounding as with a black drapery; while all within was pure and white and heavenly, save the stream of hot breath from one earthly spirit, himself set on fire of hell. Judas was there. Our thoughts must fix themselves, first, on the silent deed of Mary; then on the open word of Judas; then we must hear the words of Jesus, who, on this occasion at least, made himself a Judge and a Divider over them.
I. THE DEED OF MARY. (Verse 3.) No reason for the act is assigned. Is one needed? Was it the offering of gratitude, or duty, or love? Was there goodness enough in that heart to lead it to do a kind action spontaneously, without respect to any previous personal obligation? Was there a sufficiently clear discernment of the true character of the distinguished Guest to compel her to offer her best gifts? We know not. One thing we know—Lazarus was there, "whom Jesus raised from the dead." Then upon that head so hot, and upon those feet so weary, she pours her costly perfume; pours it freely, so "that the house was filled with the odour."
II. Could any one have suspected a spot could be found in this almost heavenly feast? Alas! so is it with all things and all times of earth. Though all the college of the apostles was there; though there was one who had been raised from the dead, and one whose body had been purified and made anew; though all had seen the miracles which he did; though there were renewed and chastened spirits present, types of perfect love and faithful service; and though the Master himself was in the midst, on that sweet last sabbath eve;—yet even in this Eden of blessing was the trail of the serpent to be seen. Hearken (verses 4-6), poor human nature! Though Heaven itself come down to us, we tarnish it with some earthly foul breath.
III. Jesus, by his words, passes judgment on Mary's deed and on Judas's pronouncement upon it. He appears for her defense. "Why trouble ye her?" (verses 6, 8, 9). He may have been troubled, but in self-forgetfulness he thinks of her as she did of him. The work was a good one. "She hath anointed my body aforehand for the burying." Did she really know the meaning of her act? Did she really know that he would so soon be taken away? Then, to her quick apprehensive grief, he was dead already. Did she unconsciously predict his burial, or was love quick-witted here? We know not; but who can tell what she learnt at his feet? Probably she knew not on this quiet sabbath evening that on the next he would be in the tomb, or her heart would have been broken as well as her alabaster box. But if her gift of grateful love meant more than she supposed, it was only as all gifts of love do. They go beyond the discernments of intellect and judgment; they reach further; they mean more. So is it with all works done to Jesus. When we comfort the sorrowful, or minister to the sick or destitute, or do any "good work" in him and for him, he makes them symbolize himself. They show forth his praise. They reveal his spirit. As to the poor and our help of them, who, to our disgrace, are always with us. Let us see how Jesus honors even their lot by placing himself in the position of a receiver of doles of charity and human kindness. And let us, undeterred by the misuse which some make of our gifts, still break our alabaster boxes. Let us pour over the world the fragrance of a godly life, the sweetness of our Christian temper, the labor of our Christian zeal, the gifts of our Christian love.—G.
Betrayal.
We now approach the darkest of all the dark hours through which our Redeemer passed in this world, so overcast with clouds. "The Son of man is betrayed into the hands of men." It was by "one of the twelve," and "unto the chief priests," and for "money
I. What lessons on THE FRAILTY OF THE POOR HUMAN HEART! The hand that received "the sop," that dipped into the same dish with Jesus, received into its hardened palm the miserable pittance—a slave's price. Ah! even in the presence of the holy One could he plot and scheme for his delivery. Let us, when we decry the deed, bow our heads lowly, remembering that we share the same frail nature. How barefaced the lie—walking, reclining, talking with the little band, carrying their common purse, and so trusted by them all, yet stealing away in the darkness to meet his enemies and plot with them how, "in the absence of the multitude," he could deliver him unto them! And going so far as to choose the symbol of brotherly affection—a kiss—to be the sign by which in the darkness they should distinguish him! "Woe unto that man through whom the Son of man is betrayed! good were it for that man if he had not been born." Truly so; for what theory or process of restoration could prevent the name Judas from being for ever the symbol of treachery and base desertion and sordid misery. "Woe," indeed! "And he went away and hanged himself." It is impossible to contemplate the heights from which men have fallen into deep abysses, without a feeling of shame and humiliation. But it would be wrong to think of them without being warned by them of the sad possibilities to which we are all exposed.
II. THE INSUFFICIENCY OF OFFICE TO SECURE ITS RIGHTFUL SPIRIT. The parallel of Judas's infamy is found in the men who stood as the head and representatives of the very religion it was Jesus' high mission to fulfill and perfect. How deplorable is the contrast between the sanctity of the position held by these officials and the spirit in which they held it! It was theirs to be the leaders of religious thought, and the embodiment of the religious spirit. But the sad testimony is borne to the insufficiency of official relationship to secure the true spirit of office. Truly may the Shepherd say, "I was wounded in the house of my friends;" and the poor one, "yea, mine own familiar friend, in whom I trusted, which did eat of my bread, hath lifted up his heel against me."
III. THE POWER OF COVETOUSNESS. And this was all for money! Well might it be written, "For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil." But it is needful to return to the preceding incident to find the hidden clue to such a deed of darkness. St. John has left the sad record, "He was a thief, and having the bag took away what was put therein." So, yielding little by little to the love of pelf, this chosen one, who harbored the demon of covetousness within the folds of his dress, had lost all strength of virtue, and being overcome of evil, and under the influence of a master-passion, sold his Master for thirty pieces of silver—"the price of him that was priced, whom certain of the children of Israel did price." But our thoughts should rest less upon the faithless disciple or the more faithless priests than upon the patient, submissive One who drank so deeply of our cup. He who descended to that lowest condition of human shame was found, like the slaves in the market, "priced" and sold. Revolting from that unfaithfulness which could sell a friend for gain, from that love of pelf which could crush all the fine and noble and generous feelings of the heart, even closing it to the sweet, winning voice of him who spake as never man spake—revolting equally from that deceitfulness which could occupy holy of[ice without the slightest apprehension of the sanctity of demeanor, or the slightest possession of the purity of spirit due to such a position—let us mark and imitate the lowly, patient, self-possessed, forgiving, trustful spirit of him who endured all that the Scriptures of the prophets might be fulfilled, that the will of the Father might be done, that the redemption of the lost might be effected.—G.
The Lord's Supper.
During the process of the betrayal, the "first day of unleavened bread" came round, and "the Master," with "his disciples" in "a large upper room furnished and ready," sat and together partook of the Passover. It was the last time. The long series of observances begun in Egypt had now come to an end. Before the next year should bring round the time of the Passover, it would be "fulfilled in the kingdom of God." A deeper and wider meaning would be given to it. Another Lamb would be slain, whose blood, sprinkled by faith, would cleanse the "conscience from dead works." New symbols would supplant the old, by means of which the Lord's death should be showed forth until his coming again. The simplicity of the newly appointed ordinance stands in marked contrast to all the elaborate rites of the earlier service, and to the scarcely less elaborate forms of the extreme schools of the Christian Church.
I. THE ELEMENTS. Taking up the common articles of their daily food, he made them symbolize himself. The "bread" his "body;" the "wine" his "blood." Anything more simple could not have been conceived, anything more ready-at-hand, more truly universal. At the same time, he glorified that food by making it to represent, to memorialize, himself—his body given and his blood shed, through which spiritual life and nourishment were secured for them. Thus materials and spirituals are united; and a portion of our daily food may be taken in remembrance of him who gives life to the world, and "feeds the strength of every saint."
II. THE REPRESENTATION. To the simple "This is my body" of St. Mark, St. Luke adds, "which is given for you"—given up unto death on your behalf. He who "gave himself"—his entire personality—for our sins, gave his body "unto death, yea, the death of the cross." This is the sacrifice offered "once for all," "when he offered up himself." The blood represents, he says, "my blood of the covenant;" or, in St. Luke's words, "This cup is the new covenant in my blood, even that which is poured out for you." It is "shed for many unto remission of sins." Both are to be taken with the impressive and tenderly touching words, "This do in remembrance of me."
III. THE COMMAND. "Take ye;" "Take, eat;" "Drink ye all of it;" "This do in remembrance of me;" "This do, as oft as ye drink it, in remembrance of me." With these words our Lord enjoins on his disciples the observance of this simple, central Christian rite; and they form the warrant for the observance of the Lord's Supper. Gathering together the several words of direct and indirect reference to this Christian service, we see how it is the center from which radiate many lines of relation to the entire circle of the Christian life.
1. It is an affectionate memorial service, bringing to remembrance the entire self-devotion of the Redeemer—"in remembrance of me." It calls up all that the one word me represents, with an especial allusion to the supreme act of self-immolation, "I lay down my life."
2. It is a covenant service. He who drinks of the cup places himself under the bonds of the new covenant, and receives at the same time the seal of the certain inheritance of all covenant blessings (see Hebrews 8:6-12).
3. It is a service of communion. It symbolizes our joint participation with the whole body of Christ (1 Corinthians 10:14-17). It. declares the perfect oneness of the Church of Christ: "We, who are many are one bread, one body;" and it affirms our perfect community of interest: we "all eat the same spiritual meat;" we "all drink the same spiritual drink."
4. It is at once a service of lowly confession and humble faith, of exulting hope—"As often as ye eat this bread, and drink the cup, ye proclaim the Lord's death till he come"—of brotherly love. It is to the believer the pledge of all blessing and help; while from him it is the pledge of all obedience. And the Eucharistic song speaks of the life, the fellowship, and the joy of heaven.—G.
Peter's fall.
The painful declaration that the words of the prophet, "I will smite the shepherd, and the sheep shall be scattered abroad," would find their fulfillment in them, and in "All ye shall be offended," roused Peter's spirit, and with a bold but mistaken estimate of his own courage and devotion, he fearlessly, even presumptuously, affirmed, "Although all shall be offended, yet will not I." St. Luke has preserved for us words which throw much light upon the incident of Peter's fall, and upon the position which Peter held amongst the disciples: "Simon, Simon, behold, Satan asked to have you, that he might sift you as wheat: but I made supplication for thee, that thy faith fail not: and do thou, when once thou hast turned again, stablish thy brethren." So Satan, the enemy of man, the agent for testing his religious character, has made demand to put all the disciples into his sieve. Men sift wheat to reveal and separate the useless from among the valuable—the bad from the good. Such is the good end of temptation. Brought to bear upon the great Master himself, it was powerless. He could say, "The prince of the world cometh: and he hath nothing in me." There was no chaff mingled with that pure grain. Assailing Judas—alas! how little of any thing but husk! In Peter how strange a mixture! In each of us? Peter, warned by the first prophetic admonition, by the parabolic words of Jesus, and by the yet more definite assurance that ere "the cock crow twice thou shalt deny me thrice," repeats his boast of fidelity with an emphasis, "If I must die with thee, I will not deny thee." The sieve is ready. Peter is accosted by a woman, "one of the maids of the high priest." "Thou also wast with the Nazarene, even Jesus." The story is well known, and needs not to be repeated. The word of Jesus found its exact fulfillment. "Thrice" did he deny, "and straightway the second time the cock crew." "And the Lord turned, and looked upon Peter." It was enough; with broken heart he "went out, and wept bitterly?"
Let us learn:
1. Our constant liability to be tempted to evil. Go where we will, temptation assails us. Amidst the blessedness of Eden or the sanctities of the temple, the tempter hides. The felicities of home, the marts of trade, the seclusions of contemplation, are all as open to the evil presence as to the air of heaven. Our steps are dogged, our life assailed. Surely for this—for such an exposure of the precious life-a sufficient justification can be adduced.
2. One end of temptation is to search out existing evil for its exposure and destruction. On the elevated plateau, over the hardened and smooth floor, the wheat is shaken from the sieve. The gentle winds blow aside the chaff, for which the consuming fire is prepared, and the pure grain falls to the ground. Peter little knew that cowardice and fear lay lurking beneath the folds of his dress; but temptation revealed them. As men pass the magnet through the metal dust to discover and separate the particles of iron from more precious metals, and those particles respond, leaping up to the attractive force; and as men test the strength of iron beams by means of heavy weights or blows; so the wily temptation tests the purity of our hearts and the strength of our principles, and draws forth the lurking evil, that, being exposed, it may be separated ere it ruins the whole life.
3. If by temptation a weakness or flaw is discovered, our wisdom is, by penitence and contrition, to return for recovery and healing. We may be sadder and humbler, but we shall be wiser. Happy for us if we have strength so to do, and not, Judas-like, in blank self-despair and self-disgust, sink to rise no more.
4. But a further lesson is to guard against those evils which are the especial cause of danger to our spiritual life. Each has his own especial liability. Peter's was not covetousness; Judas was not in danger from pride of power. Our danger is always as the amount of alloy in our character—the amount of chaff amongst the wheat.
5. Again, let us seek the removal of our own peculiar faults by the winnowing fan and purging fire of the Spirit, that we may not be exposed to the destructive surprises of sudden temptation.
6. An additional lessen is so to guard our spiritual life that the current of our thoughts be pure. How often a colored stream, or one holding earthy salts in solution, gives its own tint to the banks, or determines the growths on either side! Well also is it for us to separate from those habits of life which are condemned by any conviction of right.
7. The great lesson, on the surface of this incident, is the necessity for humility—that we beast not of our religion, that we presume not on our power; but, in lowly dependence on the strength of Divine grace, walk warily, watching lest we enter into temptation.—G.