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Chapter 23 | Table
of Contents | Book V
The Life and Times of Jesus the Messiah
Alfred Edersheim
1883
Book IV
THE DESCENT: FROM THE MOUNT OF TRANSFIGURATION
INTO THE VALLEY OF HUMILIATION AND DEATH.
Chapter 24
IN JERICHO AND AT BETHANY
JERICHO
A GUEST WITH ZACCHAEUS
THE HEALING OF BLIND BARTIMAEUS
THE PLOT AT JERUSALEM
AT BETHANY, AND IN THE HOUSE OF SIMON THE LEPER
(St. Luke 19:1-10; St. Matthew 20:29-34; St.
Mark 10:46-52; St. Luke 18:35-43; St. John 11:55-12:1; St.
Matthew 26:6-13; St. Mark 14:3-9; St. John 12:2-11.)
ONCE more, and now for the last time, were the fords of Jordan
passed, and Christ was on the soil of Judĉa proper. Behind Him were Perĉa and
Galilee; behind Him the Ministry of the Gospel by Word and Deed; before Him the
final Act of His Life, towards which all had consciously tended. Rejected as
the Messiah of His people, not only in His Person but as regarded the Kingdom
of God, which, in fulfilment of prophecy and of the merciful Counsel of God, He
had come to establish, He was of set purpose going up to Jerusalem, there to
accomplish His Decease, 'to give His Life a Ransom for many.' And He was
coming, not, as at the Feast of Tabernacles, privately, but openly, at the head
of His Apostles, and followed by many disciples - a festive band going up to
the Paschal Feast, of which Himself was to be 'the Lamb' of sacrifice.
The first station reached was Jericho, the 'City of Palms,' a
distance of only about six hours from Jerusalem. The ancient City occupied not
the site of the present wretched hamlet, but lay about half an hour to the
north-west of it, by the so-called Elisha-Spring. A second spring rose an hour
further to the north-north-west. The water of these springs, distributed by
aqueducts, gave, under a tropical sky, unsurpassed fertility to the rich soil
along the 'plain' of Jericho, which is about twelve or fourteen miles wide. The
Old Testament history of the 'City of Palms' is sufficiently known. It was here
also that King Zedekiah had, on his flight, been seized by the Chaldeans,1
and thither a company of 345 men returned under Zerubbabel.2
In the war of liberation under the Maccabees the Syrians had attempted to
fortify Jericho.3
These forts were afterwards destroyed by Pompey in his campaign. Herod the
Great had first plundered, and then partially rebuilt, fortified, and adorned
Jericho. It was here that he died.4
His son Archelaus also built there a palace. At the time of which we write, it
was, of course, under Roman dominion. Long before, it had recovered its ancient
fame for fertility and its prosperity. Josephus describes it as the
richest part of the country, and calls it a little Paradise. Antony had
bestowed the revenues of its balsam-plantations as an Imperial gift upon
Cleopatra, who in turn sold them to Herod. Here grew palm-trees of various
kinds, sycamores, the cypress-flower,5
the myrobalsamum, which yielded precious oil, but especially the balsam-plant.
If to these advantages of climate, soil, and productions we add, that it was,
so to speak, the key of Judĉa towards the east, that it lay on the caravan-road
from Damascus and Arabia, that it was a great commercial and military centre,
and lastly, its nearness to Jerusalem, to which it formed the last 'station' on
the road of the festive pilgrims from Galilee and Perĉa - it will not be
difficult to understand either its importance or its prosperity.
1. 2
Kings xxv. 5.
2. Ezra
ii. 34.
3. 1
Macc. ix. 50.
4. Jos.
Ant. xvii. 6. 5; Jewish War i. 33.6 .
5. Cant.
i. 14.
We can picture to ourselves the scene, as our Lord on that
afternoon in early spring beheld it. There it was, indeed, already summer, for,
as Josephus tells us,6
even in winter the inhabitants could only bear the lightest clothing of linen.
We are approaching it from the Jordan. It is protected by walls, flanked by
four forts. These walls, the theatre, and the amphitheatre, have been built by
Herod; the new palace and its splendid gardens are the work of Archelaus. All
around wave groves of feathery palms, rising in stately beauty; stretch gardens
of roses, and especially sweet-scented balsam-plantations, the largest behind
the royal gardens, of which the perfume is carried by the wind almost out to
sea, and which may have given to the city its name (Jericho, 'the perfumed').
It is the Eden of Palestine, the very fairyland of the old world. And how
strangely is this gem set! Deep down in that hollowed valley, through which
tortuous Jordan winds, to lose his waters in the slimy mass of the Sea of
Judgment. The river and the Dead Sea are nearly equidistant from the town,
about six miles. Far across the river rise the mountains of Moab, on which lies
the purple and violet colouring. Towards Jerusalem and northwards stretch those
bare limestone hills, the hiding-place of robbers along the desolate road
towards the City. There, and in the neighbouring wilderness of Judĉa, are also
the lonely dwellings of anchorites, while over all this strangely varied scene
has been flung the many-coloured mantle of a perpetual summer. And in the
streets of Jericho a motley throng meets: pilgrims from Galilee and Perĉa,
priests who have a 'station' here, traders from all lands, who have come to
purchase or to sell, or are on the great caravan-road from Arabia and Damascus
- robbers and anchorites, wild fanatics, soldiers, courtiers, and busy
publicans - for Jericho was the central station for the collection of tax and
custom, both on native produce and on that brought from across Jordan. And yet
it was a place for dreaming also, under that glorious summer-sky, in those
scented groves - when these many figures from far-off lands and that crowd of
priests, numbering, according to tradition, half those in Jerusalem,7
seemed fleeting as in a vision, and (as Jewish legend had it) the sound of
Temple-music came from Moriah, borne in faint echoes on the breeze, like the
distant sound of many waters.8
6. War
iv. 8. 3.
7. Jer.
Taan. iv. 2.
8. Jer.
Sukk. v. 3.
It was through Jericho that Jesus, 'having entered,' was
passing.9 10
Tidings of the approach of the festive band, consisting of His disciples and
Apostles, and headed by the Master Himself, must have preceded Him, these six
miles from the fords of Jordan. His Name, His Works, His Teaching - perhaps
Himself, must have been known to the people of Jericho, just as they must have
been aware of the feelings of the leaders of the people, perhaps of the
approaching great contest between them and the Prophet of Nazareth. Was He a
good man; had He wrought those great miracles in the power of God or by Satanic
influence - was He the Messiah or the Antichrist; would He bring salvation to
the world, or entail ruin on His own nation? Conquer or be destroyed? Was it
only one more in the long list of delusions and illusions, or was the
long-promised morning of heaven's own day at last to break? Close by was
Bethany, whence tidings had come; most incredible yet unquestioned and
unquestionable, of the raising of Lazarus, so well known to all in that
neighbourhood. And yet the Sanhedrin - it was well known - had resolved on His
death! At any rate there was no concealment about Him; and here, in face of
all, and accompanied by His followers - humble and unlettered, it must be
admitted, but thoroughly convinced of His superhuman claims, and deeply
attached - Jesus was going up to Jerusalem to meet His enemies!
9. So
more accurately.
10. St.
Luke xix. 1-10.
It was the custom, when a festive band passed through a place,
that the inhabitants gathered in the streets to bid their brethren welcome. And
on that afternoon, surely, scarce any one in Jericho but would go forth to see
this pilgrim-band. Men - curious, angry, half-convinced; women, holding up
their babes, it may be for a passing blessing, or pushing forward their
children that in after years they might say they had seen the Prophet of
Nazareth; traders, soldiers, a solid wall of onlookers before their gardens was
this 'crowd' along the road by which Jesus 'was to pass.' Would He only pass
through the place, or be the guest of some of the leading priests in Jericho;
would He teach, or work any miracle, or silently go on His way to Bethany? Only
one in all that crowd seemed unwelcome; alone, and out of place. It was the
'chief of the Publicans' - the head of the tax and customs department. As his
name shows, he was a Jew; but yet that very name Zacchĉus, 'Zakkai,' 'the
just,' or 'pure,' sounded like mockery. We know in what repute Publicans were
held, and what opportunities of wrong-doing and oppression they possessed. And
from his after-confession it is only too evident, that Zacchĉus had to the full
used them for evil. And he had got that for which he had given up alike his
nation and his soul: 'he was rich.' If, as Christ had taught, it was harder for
any rich man to enter the Kingdom of Heaven than for a camel to pass through
the eye of a needle, what of him who had gotten his riches by such means?
And yet Zacchĉus was in the crowd that had come to see Jesus.
What had brought him? Certainly, not curiosity only. Was it the long working of
conscience; or a dim, scarcely self-avowed hope of something better; or had he
heard Him before; or of Him, that He was so unlike those harsh leaders and
teachers of Israel, who refused all hope on earth and in heaven to such as him,
that Jesus received - nay, called to Him the publicans and sinners? Or was it
only the nameless, deep, irresistible inward drawing of the Holy Ghost, which
may perhaps have brought us, as it has brought many, we know not why or how, to
the place and hour of eternal decision for God, and of infinite grace to our
souls? Certain it is, that, as so often in such circumstances, Zacchĉus
encountered only hindrances which seemed to render his purpose almost
impossible. The narrative is singularly detailed and pictorial. Zacchĉus,
trying to push his way through 'the press,' and repulsed; Zacchĉus, 'little of
stature,' and unable to look over the shoulders of others: it reads almost like
a symbolical story of one who is seeking 'to see Jesus,' but cannot push his
way because of the crowd - whether of the self-righteous, or of his own
conscious sins, that seem to stand between him and the Saviour, and which will
not make room for him, while he is unable to look over them because he is, so
to speak, 'little of stature.'
Needless questions have been asked as to the import of
Zacchĉus' wish 'to see who Jesus was.' It is just this vagueness of desire,
which Zacchĉus himself does not understand, which is characteristic. And, since
he cannot otherwise succeed, he climbs up one of those wide-spreading sycamores
in a garden, perhaps close to his own house, along the only road by which Jesus
can pass - 'to see Him.' Now the band is approaching, through that double
living wall: first, the Saviour, viewing that crowd, with, ah! how different
thoughts from theirs - surrounded by His Apostles, the face of each expressive
of such feelings as were uppermost; conspicuous among them, he who 'carried the
bag,' with furtive, uncertain, wild glance here and there, as one who seeks to
gather himself up to a terrible deed. Behind them are the disciples, men and
women, who are going up with Him to the Feast. Of all persons in that crowd the
least noted, the most hindered in coming - and yet the one most concerned, was
the Chief Publican. It is always so - it is ever the order of the Gospel, that
the last shall be first. Yet never more self-unconscious was Zacchĉus than at
the moment when Jesus was entering that garden-road, and passing under the
overhanging branches of that sycamore, the crowd closing up behind, and
following as He went along. Only one thought - without ulterior conscious
object, temporal or spiritual - filled his whole being. The present absolutely
held him - when those wondrous Eyes, out of which heaven itself seemed to look
upon earth, were upturned, and that Face of infinite grace, never to be
forgotten, beamed upon him the welcome of recognition, and He uttered the
self-spoken invitation in which the invited was the real Inviter, the guest the
true Host. Did Jesus know Zacchĉus before - or was it only all open to His
Divine gaze as 'He looked up and saw him?' This latter seems, indeed, indicated
by the 'must' of His abiding in the house of Zacchĉus - as if His Father had so
appointed it, and Jesus come for that very purpose. And herein, also, seems
this story spiritually symbolical.
As bidden by Christ, Zacchĉus 'made haste and came down.' Under
the gracious influence of the Holy Ghost he 'received Him rejoicing.' Nothing
was as yet clear to him, and yet all was joyous within his soul. In that dim
twilight of the new day, and at this new creation, the Angels sang and the Sons
of God shouted together, and all was melody and harmony in his heart. But a few
steps farther, and they were at the house of the Chief Publican. Strange
hostelry this for the Lord; yet not stranger in that Life of absolute contrasts
than that first hostelry, the same, even as regards its designation in the
Gospel,11 as when
the manager had been His cradle; not so strange, as at the Sabbath-feast of the
Pharisee Rulers of the Synagogue. But now the murmur of disappointment and
anger ran through the accompanying crowd - which perhaps had not before heard
what had passed between Jesus and the Publican, certainly, had not understood,
or else not believed its import - because He was gone to be guest with a man that
was a sinner. Oh, terribly fatal misunderstanding of all that was
characteristic of the Mission of the Christ! oh, terribly fatal blindness and
jealousy! But it was this sudden shock of opposition which awoke Zacchĉus to
full consciousness. The hands so rudely and profanely thrust forward only
served to rend the veil. It often needs some such sudden shock of opposition,
some sudden sharp contest, to waken the new convert to full consciousness, to
bring before him, in clear outline, alike the past and the present. In that
moment Zacchĉus saw it all: what his past had been, what his present was, what
his future must be. Standing forth, not so much before the crowd as before the
Lord, and not ashamed, nay, scarcely conscious of the confession it implied - so
much is the sorrow of the past in true repentance swallowed up by the joy of
the present - Zacchĉus vowed fourfold restoration, as by a thief,12
of what had become his through false accusation,13
as well as the half of all his goods to the poor. And so the whole current of
his life had been turned, in those few moments, through his joyous reception of
Christ, the Saviour of sinners; and Zacchĉus the public robber, the rich Chief
of the Publicans, had become an almsgiver.
11. The
word here used is kataluw, and
the hostelry at Bethlehem (St. Luke ii. 7) was kataluma.
12. Ex.
xxii. 1.
13. Literally,
'if I have sycophanted any man anything.' It should be remarked, as
making this restoration by Zacchĉus the more intelligible, that to a penitent
Jew this would immediately occur. In the Talmud there is a long discussion as
to restoration by penitents in cases where the malappropriation was open to
question, when the Talmud lays down the principle, that if any one wishes to
escape the Divine punishment, he must restore even that which, according to
strict justice, he might not be obliged to give up (Baba Mez. 37 a).
It was then, when it had been all done in silence, as mostly
all God's great works, that Jesus spake it to him, for his endless comfort, and
in the hearing of all, for their and our teaching: 'This day became - arose -
there salvation to this house,' 'forasmuch as,' truly and spiritually, 'this
one also is a son of Abraham.' And, as regards this man, and all men, so long
as time endureth: 'For the Son of Man came to seek and to save that which was
lost.'
The Evangelistic record passes with significant silence over
that night in the house of Zacchĉus. It forms not part of the public history of
the Kingdom of God, but of that joy with which a stranger intermeddleth not. It
was in the morning, when the journey in company with His disciples was resumed,
that the next public incident occurred in the healing of the blind by the
wayside.14 The small
divergences in the narratives of the three Evangelists are well known. It may
have been that, as St. Matthew relates, there were two blind men sitting
by the wayside, and that St. Luke and St. Mark mention only one - the latter by
name as 'Bar Timĉus' - because he was the spokesman. But, in regard to the
other divergence, trifling as it is, that St. Luke places the incident at the
arrival, the other two Evangelists at the departure of Jesus from Jericho, it
is better to admit our inability to conciliate these differing notes of time,
than to make clumsy attempts at harmonising them. We can readily believe that
there may have been circumstances unknown to us, which might show these
statements to be not really diverging. And, if it were otherwise, it would in
no way affect the narrative itself. Historical information could only have been
derived from local sources; and we have already seen reason to infer that St.
Luke had gathered his from personal inquiry on the spot. And it may have been,
either that the time was not noted, or wrongly noted, or that this miracle, as
the only one in Jericho, may have been reported to him before mention was made
of the reception by Christ of Zacchĉus. In any case, it shows the independence
of the account of St. Luke from that of the other two Evangelists.
14. St.
Matt. xx. 29-34; St. Mark x. 46-52; St. Luke xviii. 35-43.
Little need be said of the incident itself: it is so like the
other Deeds of His Life. So to speak - it was left in Jericho as the practical
commentary, and the seal on what Christ had said and done the previous evening
in regard to Zacchĉus. Once more the crowd was following Jesus, as in the
morning He resumed the journey with His disciples. And, there by the wayside,
begging, sat the blind men - there, where Jesus was passing. As they heard the
tramp of many feet and the sound of many voices, they learned that Jesus of
Nazareth was passing by. It is all deeply touching, and deeply symbolical. But
what must their faith have been, when there, in Jericho, they not only owned Him
as the true Messiah, but cried - in the deep significance of that special mode
of address, as coming from Jewish lips:15
'Jesus, Thou Son of David, have mercy on me!' It was quite in accordance with
what one might almost have expected - certainly with the temper of Jericho, as
we learned it on the previous evening, when 'many,' the 'multitude,' 'they
which went before,' would have bidden that cry for help be silent as an
unwarrantable intrusion and interruption, if not a needless and meaningless
application. But only all the louder and more earnest rose the cry, as the
blind felt that they might for ever be robbed of the opportunity that was
slipping past. And He, Who listens to every cry of distress, heard this. He
stood still, and commanded the blind to be called. Then it was that the
sympathy of sudden hope seized the 'multitude' the wonder about to be wrought
fell, so to speak, in its heavenly influences upon them, as they comforted the
blind in the agony of rising despair with the words, 'He calleth thee.'16
As so often, we are indebted to St. Mark for the vivid sketch of what passed.
We can almost see Bartimĉus as, on receiving Christ's summons, he casts aside
his upper garment and hastily comes. That question: what he would that Jesus
should do unto him, must have been meant for those around more than for the
blind. The cry to the son of David had been only for mercy. It might have been
for alms - though, as the address, so the gift bestowed in answer, would be
right royal - 'after the order of David.' But our general cry for mercy must
ever become detailed when we come into the Presence of the Christ. And the
faith of the blind rose to the full height of the Divine possibilities opened
before them. Their inward eyes had received capacity for The Light, before that
of earth lit up their long darkness. In the language of St. Matthew, 'Jesus had
compassion on them and touched their eyes.' This is one aspect of it. The other
is that given by St. Mark and St. Luke, in recording the words with which He
accompanied the healing: 'Thy faith has saved thee.'17
15. Comp.
our remarks on this point in vol. ii. p. 49.
16. St.
Mark x. 49.
17. The
expression is the same in St. Mark and St. Luke.
And these two results came of it: 'all the people, when they
saw it gave praise unto God;' and, as for Bartimĉus, though Jesus had bidden
him 'go thy way,' yet, 'immediately he received his sight,' he 'followed Jesus
in the way,' glorifying God.18
And this is Divine disobedience, or rather the obedience of the spirit as
against the observance of the letter.19
18. St.
Luke.
19. The
Parable of the Ten Pieces of Money will be expounded in connection with the
last series of Parables.
The arrival of the Paschal band from Galilee and Perĉa was not
in advance of many others. In truth, most pilgrims from a distance would
probably come to the Holy City some days before the Feast, for the sake of
purification in the Temple, since those who for any reason needed such - and
there would be few families that did not require it - generally deferred it till
the festive season brought them to Jerusalem. We owe this notice, and that
which follows, to St. John,20
and in this again recognise the Jewish writer of the Fourth Gospel. It was only
natural that these pilgrims should have sought for Jesus, and, when they did
not find Him, discuss among themselves the probability of His coming to the
Feast. His absence would, after the work which He had done these three years,
the claim which He made, and the defiant denial of it by the priesthood and the
Sanhedrin, have been regarded as a virtual surrender to the enemy. There was a
time when He need not have appeared at the Feast - when, as we see it, it was
better He should not come. But that time was past. The chief priests and the
Pharisees also knew it, and they 'had given commandment that, if any one knew
where He was, he would show it, that they might take Him.' It would be better
to ascertain where He lodged, and to seize Him before He appeared in public, in
the Temple.
20. St.
John xi. 55-57.
But it was not as they had imagined. Without concealment Christ
came to Bethany, where Lazarus lived, whom He had raised from the dead. He came
there six days before the Passover - and yet His coming was such that they
could not 'take Him.'21
They might as well take Him in the Temple; nay, more easily. For, the moment
His stay in Bethany became known, 'much people22
of the Jews' came out, not only for His sake, but to see that Lazarus whom He
had raised from the dead. And, of those who so came, many went away believing.
And how, indeed, could it be otherwise? Thus one of their plans was frustrated,
and the evil seemed only to grow worse. The Sanhedrin could perhaps not be
moved to such flagrant outrage of all Jewish Law, but 'the chief priests,' who
had no such scruples, consulted how they might put Lazarus also to death.23
21. St.
John xii. 1.
22. Canon
Westcott prefers the reading: 'the common people.'
23. St.
John xii. 10,11.
Yet, not until His hour had come could man do aught against
Christ or His disciples. And, in contrast to such scheming, haste and search,
we mark the majestic calm and quiet of Him Who knew what was before Him. Jesus
had arrived at Bethany six days before the Passover - that is, on a Friday.24
The day after was the Sabbath, and 'they made Him a supper.'25
It was the special festive meal of the Sabbath. The words of St. John seem to
indicate that the meal was a public one, as if the people of Bethany had
combined to do Him this honour, and so share the privilege of attending the
feast. In point of fact, we know from St. Matthew and St. Mark that it took
place 'in the house of Simon the Leper' - not, of course, an actual leper - but
one who had been such. Perhaps his guestchamber was the largest in Bethany;
perhaps the house was nearest to the Synagogue; or there may have been other
reasons for it, unknown to us - least likely is the suggestion that Simon was
the husband of Martha,26
or else her father.27
But all is in character. Among the guests is Lazarus: and, prominent in
service, Martha; and Mary (the unnamed woman of the other two Gospels, which do
not mention that household by name), is also true to her character.28
She had 'an alabaster'29
of 'spikenard genuine,' which was very precious. It held 'a litra' ()raf+:yli or
)t@afr:+ayli) which was a 'Roman pound,' and its value could not have been less
than nearly 9l. Remembering the price of Nard,30
as given by Pliny,31
and that the Syrian was only next in value to the Indian, which Pliny
regarded as the best32
ointment of 'genuine'33
Nard - unadulterated and unmixed with any other balsam34
(as the less expensive kinds were), such a price (300 dinars = nearly 9l.)
would be by no means excessive; indeed, much lower than at Rome. But, viewed in
another light, the sum spent was very large, remembering that 200 dinars (about
6l.) nearly sufficed to provide bread for 5,000 men with their families,
and that the ordinary wages of a labourer amounted to only one dinar a day.
24. On
the precise dates, see the Commentaries. It has been impossible here to discuss
in detail every little difficulty. Rather has it been thought best to tell the
events, as we regard them as having taken place. See Nebe, Leidensgesch.
i. pp. 23, 24.
25. St.
John xii. 1.
26. Hengstenberg.
27. Ewald.
28. Those,
if any, who identify this Mary with the Magdalene, and regard the anointing of
St. Luke vii. 36, &c., as identical with that of Bethany, are referred, for
full discussion and refutation, to Nebe, Leidensgesch. vol. i. pp. 21
&c., 30 &c.
29. Unguenta
optime servantur in alabastris (Plin. H. N. xiii. 2, 3). These
'alabasters' - for the flask itself obtained that name from the stone used -
had at the top the form of a cylinder, and are likened by Pliny to a
closed rose-bud.
30. Kerith.
6 a.
31. Hist.
Nat. xii. 12, 26.
32. xii.
12, 26.
33. The
expression pistikh has giver
rise to much controversy. Of the various renderings, that by 'genuine' has most
in its favour. For a full discussion see Nebe, u. s. pp. 33, 34, and Meyer
on St. Mark xiv. 3-9.
34. On
the various mixtures of precious ointments, their adulteration, the cost of the
various ingredients, and the use made of perfumes in Palestine, see Herzfeld,
u. s. pp. 99, 100, 191, 192.
We can here offer only conjectures, But it is, at least, not
unreasonable to suppose - remembering the fondness of Jewish women for such
perfumes35 - that
Mary may have had that 'alabaster' of very costly ointment from olden days,
before she had learned to serve Christ. Then, when she came to know Him, and
must have learned how constantly that Decease, of which He ever spoke, was
before His Mind, she may have put it aside, 'kept it,' 'against the day of His
burying.' And now the decisive hour had come. Jesus may have told her, as He
had told the disciples, what was before Him in Jerusalem at the Feast, and she
would be far more quick to understand, even as she must have known far better
than they, how great was the danger from the Sanhedrin. And it is this
believing apprehension of the mystery of His Death on her part, and this
preparation of deepest love for it - this mixture of sorrow, faith, and
devotion - which made her deed so precious, that, wherever in the future the
Gospel would be preached, this also that she had done would be recorded for a
memorial of her.36
And the more we think of it, the better can we understand, how at that last
feast of fellowship, when all the other guests realised not - no, not even His
disciples - how near the end was, she would 'come aforehand to anoint His Body
for the burying.'37
38
Her faith made it a twofold anointing: that of the best Guest at the last
feast, and that of preparation for that Burial which, of all others, she
apprehended as so terribly near. And deepest humility now offered, what most
earnest love had provided, and intense faith, in view of what was coming,
applied. And so she poured the precious ointment over His Head, over His Feet39
- then, stooping over them, wiped them with her hair, as if, not only in
evidence of service and love, but in fellowship of His Death.40
'And the house was filled'- and to all time His House, the Church, is
filled - 'with the odour of the ointment.'
35. See
Book III. chap. xxi.
36. St.
Matt. xxvi. 13.
37. St.
Mark xiv. 8.
38. St.
Matthew and St. Mark.
39. St.
John. There is manifestly neither contradiction nor divergence here between the
Evangelists. Mary first poured the nard over the Head, and then over His Feet (Godet
sees this implied in the kateceen autou
of St. Mark). St. John notices the anointing of the Feet, not only as the act
of greatest humility and the mark of deepest veneration, but from its unusual
character, while anointing of the head was not so uncommon. We recall the ideal
picture of Aaron when anointed to the priesthood, Ps. cxxxiii. 2, to mark here
the fulfilment of the type when the Great High-Priest was anointed for His
Sacrifice. She who had so often sat at His feet, now anoints them, and alike
for love, reverence, and fellowship of His sufferings, will not wipe them but
with her hair.
40. St.
John.
It is ever the light which throws the shadows of objects - and
this deed of faith and love now cast the features of Judas in gigantic dark
outlines against the scene. He knew the nearness of Christ's Betrayal, and
hated the more; she knew of the nearness of His precious Death, and loved the
more. It was not that he cared for the poor, when, taking the mask of charity,
he simulated anger that such costly ointment had not been sold, and the price
given to the poor. For he was essentially dishonest, 'a thief,' and
covetousness was the underlying master-passion of his soul. The money, claimed
for the poor, would only have been used by himself. Yet such was his pretence
of righteousness, such his influence as 'a man of prudence' among the
disciples, and such their sad weakness, that they, or at least 'some,'41
expressed indignation among themselves and against her who had done the deed of
love, which, when viewed in the sublimeness of a faith, that accepted and
prepared for the death of a Saviour Whom she so loved, and to Whom this last,
the best service she could, was to be devoted, would for ever cause her to be
though of as an example of loving. There is something inexpressibly sad, yet so
patient, gentle, and tender in Christ's 'Let her alone.' Surely, never could
there be waste in ministry of love to Him! Nay, there is unspeakable pathos in
what He says of His near Burying, as if He would still their souls in view of
it. That He, Who was ever of the poor and with them, Who for our sakes became
poor, that through His poverty we might be made rich, should have to plead for
a last service of love to Himself, and for Mary, and as against a Judas, seems
indeed, the depth of self-abasement. Yet, even so, has this falsely-spoken plea
for the poor become a real plea, since He has left us this, as it were, as His
last charge, and that by His own Death, that we have the poor always with us.
And so do even the words of covetous dishonesty become, when passing across
Him, transformed into the command of charity, and the breath of hell is changed
into the summer-warmth of the Church's constant service to Christ in the
ministry to His poor.
41. St.
Mark xiv. 41.
Chapter 23 | Table
of Contents | Book V
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