We learn from the fourth Gospel that the immediate result of the
impression made by our Lord's miraculous feeding of the five thousand
was an attempt on the part of the people to take Him by force and make
Him a king. Thus, as always, their minds would run on political
change, and the hope of bettering their circumstances thereby; while
they refused to allow themselves to think of that spiritual change
which must begin with themselves, and show itself in that repentance
and hunger and thirst after righteousness, which He so longed to see
in them. Even His disciples, as we know, were not now, nor for a long
time subsequent to this, altogether free from the same spirit of
earthliness; and it is quite likely that the general enthusiasm would
excite them not a little, and perhaps lead them to raise the question,
as they were often fain to do, whether the time had not at last come
for their Master to declare Himself openly, put Himself at the head of
these thousands, take advantage of the widespread feeling of
irritation and discontent awakened by the murder of John the Baptist,
whom all men counted for a prophet (Mark xi. 32), hurl Herod Antipas
from the high position he disgraced, and, with all Galilee under His
control and full of enthusiasm for His cause, march southward on
Jerusalem. This was no doubt the course of action they for the most
part expected and wished; and, with One at their head Who could do
such wonders, what was there to hinder complete success?
May we not also with reverence suppose that this was one of the
occasions on which Satan renewed those assaults which he began in the
wilderness of Judæa? A little later, when Peter was trying to turn Him
aside from the path of the Cross, Jesus recognised it, not merely as a
suggestion of the disciple, but as a renewed temptation of the great
adversary. We may well suppose, then, that at this crisis the old
temptation to bestow on Him the kingdoms of the world and the glory of
them--not for their own sake, of course (there could have been no
temptation in that direction), but for the sake of the advancement of
the interests of the heavenly kingdom by the use of worldly methods of
policy and force--was presented to Him with peculiar strength.
However this may have been, the circumstances required prompt action
of some kind. It was necessary that the disciples should be got out of
reach of temptation as soon as possible; so He constrained them to
enter into a boat, and go before Him to the other side, while He
dispersed the multitude. And need we wonder that in the circumstances
He should wish to be entirely alone? He could not consult with those
He trusted most, for they were quite in the dark, and anything they
were at all likely to say would only increase the pressure put upon
Him by the people. He had only One for His Counsellor and Comforter,
His Father in heaven, Whose will He had come to do; so He must be
alone with Him. He must have been in a state of great physical
exhaustion after all the fatigue of the day, for though He had come
for rest He had found none; but the brave, strong spirit conquers the
weary flesh, and instead of going to sleep He ascends the neighbouring
height to spend the night in prayer.
It is interesting to remember that it was after this night spent in
prayer that He delivered the remarkable discourse recorded in the
sixth chapter of St. John, in which He speaks so plainly about giving
His flesh for the life of the world. It is evident, then, that, if any
question had arisen in His mind as to the path of duty, when He was
suddenly confronted with the enthusiastic desire of the multitudes to
crown Him at once, it was speedily set at rest: He now plainly saw
that it was not the will of His Father in heaven that He should take
advantage of any such stirring of worldly desire, that He must give no
encouragement to any, except those who were hungering and thirsting
after righteousness, to range themselves upon His side. Hence, no
doubt, the sifting nature of the discourse He delivered the following
day. He is eager to gather the multitudes to Himself; but He cannot
allow them to come under any false assumption;--He must have
spiritually-minded disciples, or none at all: accordingly He makes
His discourse so strongly spiritual, directs their attention so far
away from earthly issues to the issues of eternity ("I will raise him
up at the last day" is the promise He gives over and over again,
whereas they wanted to be raised up then and there to high places in
the world), that not only did the multitude lose all their enthusiasm,
but "from that time many of His disciples went back, and walked no
more with Him," while even the Twelve themselves were shaken in their
allegiance, as seems evident from the sorrowful question with which He
turned to them: "Will ye also go away?" We may reverently suppose,
then, that our Lord was occupied, during the early part of the night,
with thoughts like these--in preparation, as it were, for the faithful
words He will speak and the sad duty He will discharge on the morrow.
Meantime a storm has arisen on the lake--one of those sudden and often
terrible squalls to which inland waters everywhere are subject, but
which are greatly aggravated here by the contrast between the tropical
climate of the lake, 620 feet below the level of the Mediterranean,
and the cool air on the heights which surround it. The storm becomes
fiercer as the night advances. The Saviour has been much absorbed, but
He cannot fail to notice how angry the lake is becoming, and to what
peril His loved disciples are exposed. As the Passover was nigh, the
moon would be nearly full, and there would be frequent opportunities,
between the passing of the clouds, to watch the little boat. As long
as there seems any prospect of their weathering the storm by their own
exertions He leaves them to themselves; but when it appears that they
are making no progress, though it is evident that they are "toiling in
rowing," He sets out at once to their relief.
The rescue which follows recalls a former incident on the same lake
(viii. 23-27). But the points of difference are both important and
instructive. Then He was with His disciples in the ship, though
asleep; in their extremity they had only to rouse Him with the cry,
"Save, Lord, or we perish!" to secure immediate calm and safety. Now
He was not with them; He was out of sight, and beyond the reach even
of the most piercing cries. It was therefore a much severer trial than
the last; and, remembering the special significance of the miracle of
the loaves, we can scarcely fail to notice a corresponding
suggestiveness in this one. That one had dimly foreshadowed His death;
did not this, in the same way, foreshadow the relations He would
sustain to His disciples after His death? May we not look upon His
ascent of this mountain as a picture of His ascension into heaven--His
betaking Himself to His Father now as a shadow of His going to the
Father then--His prayer on the mount as a shadow of His heavenly
intercession? It was to pray that He ascended; and though He, no
doubt, needed, at that trying time, to pray for Himself, His heart
would be poured out in pleading for His disciples too, especially when
the storm came on. And these disciples constrained to go off in a boat
by themselves,--are they not a picture of the Church after Christ had
gone to His Father, launched on the stormy sea of the world? What will
they do without Him? What will they do when the winds rise and the
waves roar in the dark night? Oh! if only He were here, Who was
sleeping in the boat that day, and only needed to be roused to
sympathise and save! Where is He now? There on the hilltop,
interceding, looking down with tenderest compassion, watching every
effort of the toiling rowers. Nay, He is nearer still! See that Form
upon the waves! "It is a spirit," they cry; and are afraid, very much
as, a little more than a year afterward, when He came suddenly into
the midst of them with His "Peace be unto you," they were terrified
and affrighted, and supposed that they had seen a spirit (Luke xxiv.
37). But presently they hear the familiar voice: "Be of good cheer: it
is I; be not afraid." There can be no doubt that the remembrance of
that night on the lake of Galilee would be a wondrous consolation to
these disciples during the storms of persecution through which they
had to pass after their Master had ascended up to heaven; and their
faith in the presence of His Spirit, and His constant readiness to
help and save, would be greatly strengthened by the memory of that
apparently spectral Form they had seen coming across the troubled sea
to their relief. Have we not some reason, then, for saying that here,
too, we have not only another of the many signs of the kingdom showing
our Lord's power over nature and constant readiness to help His people
in time of need, but a parable of the future, most appropriately
following that parable of life through death set forth in the feeding
of the thousands on the day before?
There seems, in fact, a strange prophetic element running all through
the scenes of that wondrous time. We have already referred to the
disposition on the part even of the Twelve, as manifested next day at
the close of the discourse on the "bread of life," to desert Him--to
show the same spirit which afterward, when the crisis reached its
height, so demoralised them that "they all forsook Him, and fled"; and
have we not, in the closing incident, in which Peter figures so
conspicuously, a mild foreshadowing of his terrible fall, when the
storm of human passion was raging as fiercely in Jerusalem as did the
winds and waves on the lake of Galilee that night? There is the same
self-confidence: "Lord, if it be Thou, bid me come unto Thee on the
water;" the same alarm when he was brought face to face with the
danger the thought of which he had braved; then the sinking, sinking
as if about to perish, yet not hopelessly (for the Master had prayed
for him that his faith should not fail); then the humble prayer,
"Lord, save me"; and the gracious hand immediately stretched out to
save. Had the adventurous disciple learnt his lesson well that day,
what it would have saved him! May we not say that there is never a
great and terrible fall, however sudden it seems, which has not been
preceded by warnings, even long before, which, if heeded, would have
certainly averted it? How much need have the disciples of Christ to
learn thoroughly the lessons their Lord teaches them in His gentler
dealings, so that when darker days and heavier trials come they may be
ready, having taken unto themselves the whole armour of God, to
withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand.
There are many other important lessons which might be learnt from this
incident, but we may not dwell on them; a mere enumeration of some of
them may, however, be attempted. It was faith, in part, at least,
which led the apostle to make this venture; and this is, no doubt, the
reason why the Lord did not forbid it. Faith is too precious to be
repressed; but the faith of Peter on this occasion is anything but
simple, clear and strong: there is a large measure of self-will in it,
of impulsiveness, of self-confidence, perhaps of love of display. A
confused and encumbered faith of this kind is sure to lead into
mischief,--to set on foot rash enterprises, which show great
enthusiasm, and perhaps seem to rebuke the caution of the less
confident for the time, but which come to grief, and in the end bring
no credit to the cause of Christ. The rash disciple's enterprise is
not, however, an entire failure: he does succeed so far; but presently
the weakness of his faith betrays itself. As long as the impulse
lasted, and his eye was fixed on his Master, all went well; but when
the first burst of enthusiasm was spent, and he had time to look round
upon the waves, he began to sink. But how encouraging it is to observe
that, when put to extremity, that which is genuine in the man carries
it over all the rest!--the faith which had been encumbered extricates
itself, and becomes simple, clear and strong; the last atom of
self-confidence is gone, and with it all thought of display; nothing
but simple faith is left in that strong cry of his, "Lord, save me!"
Nothing could be imagined better suited than this incident to
discriminate between self-confidence and faith. Peter enters on this
experience with the two well mixed together,--so well mixed, that
neither he himself nor his fellow-disciples could distinguish them;
but the testing process precipitates one and clarifies the
other,--lets the self-confidence all go, and brings out the faith pure
and strong. Immediately, therefore, his Lord is at his side, and he is
safe;--a great lesson this on faith, especially in revealing its
simplicity. Peter tried to make a grand thing of it: he had to come
back to the simple, humble cry, and the grasping of his Saviour's
outstretched hand.
The same lesson is taught on a larger scale in the brief account of
the cures the Master wrought when they reached the other side, where
all that was asked was the privilege of touching His garment's hem,
"and as many as touched were made perfectly whole;" not the great
ones, not the strong ones, but "as many as touched." Only let us keep
in touch with Him, and all will assuredly be well with us both in time
and in eternity.
III.--ISRAEL AFTER THE FLESH, AND ISRAEL AFTER THE SPIRIT (xv.).
Issue is now joined with the ecclesiastical leaders at Jerusalem, who
send a deputation to make a formal complaint. When Jerusalem was last
mentioned in our Gospel, it was in connection with a movement of quite
a different character. The fame of the Saviour's deeds of mercy in
Galilee had then just reached the capital, the result being that many
set out at once to find out what new thing this might be: "There
followed Him great multitudes of people from Galilee, and from
Decapolis, and from Jerusalem, and from Judæa, and from beyond Jordan"
(iv. 25). That wave of interest in the south had now died down; and
instead of eager multitudes there is a small sinister band of cold,
keen-witted, hard-hearted critics. It was a sad change, and must have
brought new distress to the Saviour's troubled heart; but He is none
the less ready to face the trial with His wonted courage and unfailing
readiness of resource.
Their complaint is trivial enough. It is to be remembered, of course,
that it was not a question of cleanliness, but of ritual; not even of
ritual appointed by Moses, but only of that prescribed by certain
traditions of their fathers which they held in superstitious
veneration. These traditions, by a multitude of minute regulations and
restrictions, imposed an intolerable burden on those who thought it
their duty to observe them; while the magnifying of trifles had the
natural effect of keeping out of sight the weightier matters of the
law. Not only so, but the most trivial regulations were sometimes so
managed as to furnish an excuse for neglect of the plainest duties.
Our Lord could not therefore miss the opportunity of denouncing this
evil, and accordingly He exposes it in the plainest and strongest
language.
The question with which He opens His attack is most incisive. It is as
if He said, "I am accused of transgressing _your_ tradition. What is
your tradition? It is itself transgression of the law of God." Then
follows the striking illustration, showing how by their rules of
tradition they put it within the power of any heartless son to escape
entirely the obligation of providing even for his aged father or
mother--an illustration, be it remembered, which brought out more than
a breach of the fifth commandment; for by what means was it that the
ungrateful son escaped his obligation? By taking the name of the Lord
in vain; for surely there could be no greater dishonour to the name of
God than meanly to mark as dedicated to Him (_Corban_) what ought to
have been devoted to the discharge of an imperative filial duty.
Besides, it was not at all necessary that the money or property should
be actually dedicated to sacred uses; it was only necessary to say
that it was, only necessary to pronounce over it that magic word
Corban, and then the mean hypocrite could use it for the most selfish
purposes--for any purpose, in fact, he chose, except that purpose for
which it was his duty to use it. It is really difficult to conceive
such iniquity wrapped up in a cloak of so-called religion. No wonder
our Lord was moved to indignation, and applied to His critics the
strong language of the prophet: "Ye hypocrites, well did Isaiah
prophesy of you, saying, This people honoureth Me with their lips; but
their heart is far from Me, ... teaching as their doctrines the
precepts of men" (R.V.). No wonder that He turned away from men who
were so deeply committed to a system so vile, and that He explained,
not to His questioners, but to the multitude who had gathered round,
the principle on which He acted.
There seems, however, to have been more of sorrow than of anger in His
tone and manner. How else could the disciples have asked Him such a
question as that which follows: "Knowest thou that the Pharisees were
offended, after they heard this saying?" Of course the Pharisees were
offended. They had most excellent reason. And the disciples would have
known that He had no intention of sparing them in the least, and no
concern whether they took offence or not, if His tone had been such as
an ordinary person would naturally have put into such an invective. It
is probable that he said it all calmly, earnestly, tenderly, without
the slightest trace of passion; from which it would not be at all
unnatural for the disciples to infer that He had not fully realised
how strong His language had been, and into what serious collision He
had brought Himself with the leaders in Jerusalem. Hence their gentle
remonstrance, the expression of those feelings of dismay with which
they saw their Master break with one party after another, as if
determined to wreck His mission altogether. Was it not bad policy to
give serious offence to persons of such importance at so critical a
time?
The Saviour's answer is just what was to be expected. Policy had no
place in His plan. His kingdom was of the truth; and whatever was not
of truth must go, be the consequences what they might. That system of
traditionalism had its roots deeply and firmly fastened in the Jewish
soil; its fibres were through it all; and to disturb it was to go
against a feeling that was nothing less than national in its extent.
But no matter: firmly, deeply, widely rooted though it was, it was not
of God's planting, and therefore it cannot be let alone: "Every plant,
which My heavenly Father hath not planted, shall be rooted up." It is
for all ritualists, ancient and modern, all who teach for doctrines
what are only commandments of men, seriously to ponder this most
radical utterance by One Whose right it is to speak with an authority
from which there is no appeal.
Having thus condemned the ritualistic teaching of the day, He disposes
next of the false teachers. This He does in a way which ought to have
been a warning to those persecutors and heresy-hunters who, by their
unwise use of force and law, have given only larger currency to the
evil doctrines they have tried to suppress. He simply says "Let them
alone: they be blind leaders of the blind. And if the blind lead the
blind, both shall fall into the ditch." Expose their error by all
means; root it out, if possible; but as for the men themselves, "let
them alone."
The principle He sets forth as underlying the whole subject is the
same as that which underlies His teaching in the Sermon on the
Mount--viz., that "out of the heart are the issues of life." The
ritualist lays stress on that which enters into the man--the kind of
food which enters his mouth, the objects which meet his eye, the
incense which enters his nostril; Christ sets all this aside as of no
consequence in comparison with the state of the heart (vv. 16-20).
Such teaching as this was not only irreconcilable with that of the
scribes and Pharisees from Jerusalem, but it lay at the very opposite
pole.
* * * * *
Was it on this account that after this interview Jesus withdrew as far
as possible from Jerusalem? He is limited, indeed, in His range to the
Holy Land, as He indicates in His conversation with the woman of
Canaan; but just as after the death of John He had withdrawn out of
the jurisdiction of Herod to the east, so now, after this collision
with the deputation from Jerusalem, He withdraws to the far north, to
the borders of Tyre and Sidon. And was it only a coincidence that,
just as Jerusalem had furnished such sorry specimens of dead
formalism, the distant borders of heathen Tyre and Sidon should
immediately thereafter furnish one of the very noblest examples of
living faith? The coincidence is certainly very striking and most
instructive. The leaders from Jerusalem had been dismissed with the
condemnation of their own prophet: "This people honoureth Me with
their lips, but their heart is far from Me;" while out of far-away
heathendom there comes one whose whole heart is poured out to Him in
earnest, persevering, prevailing prayer. It is one of those contrasts
with which this portion of our Lord's history abounds, the force of
which will appear more clearly as we proceed.
The suppliant was "a woman of Canaan," or, as she is described more
definitely elsewhere, a Syro-Phœnician woman. Yet she has learned of
Jesus--knows Him as the Christ, for she calls Him "Son of
David"--knows Him as a Saviour, for she comes to ask that her daughter
may be healed. Her application must have been a great solace to His
wounded heart. He always loved to be asked for such blessings; and,
rejected as He had been by His countrymen, it must have been a special
encouragement to be approached in this way by a stranger. That it was
so may be inferred from what He said on similar occasions. When the
Roman centurion came to have his servant healed, Jesus commended his
wonderful faith, and then added: "I say unto you, That many shall come
from the east and west, and shall sit down with Abraham, and Isaac,
and Jacob, in the kingdom of heaven." So, too, when it was announced
to Him that some Greeks desired to see Him, the first effect was to
sharpen the agony of His rejection by His own countrymen; but
immediately He recovers Himself, looks beyond the cross and the shame
to the glory that shall follow, and exclaims, "I, if I be lifted up
from the earth, will draw all men unto Me." There can be no doubt that
at this time of rejection in Galilee it must have been a similar
consolation to receive this visit from the woman of Canaan.
How, then, can we explain His treatment of her? First, He answered her
not a word. Then He reminded her that she did not belong to Israel, as
if she therefore could have no claim on Him. And when she still urged
her suit, in a manner that might have appealed to the hardest heart,
He gave her an answer which seems so incredibly harsh, that it is with
a feeling of pain one hears it repeated after eighteen hundred years.
What does all this mean? It means "praise and honour and glory" for
the poor woman; for the disciples, and for all disciples, a lesson
never to be forgotten. He Who knew what was in man, knew what was in
this noble woman's heart, and He wished to bring it out--to bring it
out so that the disciples should see it, so that other disciples
should see it, so that generation after generation and century after
century should see it, and admire it, and learn its lesson. It cost
her some minutes' pain: Him also,--how it must have wrung His heart to
treat her in a way so foreign to every fibre of His soul! But had He
not so dealt with her, what a loss to her, to the disciples, to
countless multitudes! He very much needs a shining example of living
faith to set over against the dead formalism of these traditionalists;
and here it is: He must bring it out of its obscurity, and set it as a
star in the firmament of His gospel, to shine for ever and ever. He
tested her to the uttermost, because He knew that at the end of all He
could say: "O woman, great is thy faith: be it unto thee even as thou
wilt." The heart of the Saviour was never filled with a deeper
tenderness or a wiser and more far-seeing love than when He repulsed
this woman again and again, and treated her with what seemed at the
moment most inexcusable and unaccountable harshness.
The lessons which shine out in the simple story of this woman can only
be touched in the slightest manner. We have already referred to the
contrast between the great men of Jerusalem and this poor woman of
Canaan; observe now how strikingly is suggested the distinction
between Israel according to the flesh and Israel according to the
spirit. The current idea of the time was that lineal descent from
Abraham determined who belonged to the house of Israel and who did
not. The Saviour strikes at the root of this error. He does not indeed
attack it directly. For this the time has not yet come: the veil of
the Temple has not yet been rent in twain. But He draws aside the veil
a little, so as to give a glimpse of the truth and prepare the way for
its full revealing when the time shall come. He does not broadly say,
"This woman of Canaan is as good an Israelite as any of you;" but He
says, "I am not sent but unto the lost sheep of the house of
Israel"--and heals her daughter notwithstanding. Was it not, then,
evident that this poor woman after all did in some sense belong to the
lost sheep of the house of Israel whom Jesus came to save?
The house of Israel?--what does Israel mean? Learn at Peniel. See
Jacob in sore distress at the brook Jabbok. A man is wrestling with
him,--wrestling with him all the night, until the break of day. It is
no mere man, for Jacob finds before all is over that he has been face
to face with God. The man who wrestled with him indeed was the same as
He Who wrestled with this woman of Canaan. The Divine Man struggles to
get away without blessing the patriarch. Jacob cries, in the very
desperation of his faith, "I will not let Thee go, except Thou bless
me!" The victory is won. The blessing is granted, and these words are
added: "What is thy name?" "Jacob." "Thy name shall be called no more
Jacob, but Israel" (i.e. prince with God): "for as a prince hast thou
power with God and with men, and hast prevailed."
Was this woman, then, or was she not, "a prince" with God? Did she, or
did she not, belong to the true house of Israel? Let us now look back
to vv. 8 and 9: "This people" (_i.e._ the children of Israel according
to the flesh) ... "honoureth Me with their lips; but their heart is
far from Me. But _in vain_ they do worship Me." In vain do they
worship: are they, then, princes with God? Nay, verily; they are only
actors before Him, as the Saviour plainly says. Truly they are not all
Israel who are of Israel; and just as truly they are not the only
Israel who are of Israel, for here is this woman of Canaan who earns
the name of Israel by as hard a contest and as great a victory as that
of Jacob at the brook Jabbok, when first the name was given.
Another instructive contrast is inevitably suggested between the
foremost of the apostles and this nameless woman of Canaan. The last
illustration of faith was Peter's venture on the water. What a
difference between the strong man and the weak woman! To the strong,
brave man the Master had to say "O thou of little faith! wherefore
didst thou doubt?" To the weak woman, "O woman, great is thy faith."
What an encouragement here to the little ones, the obscure, unnoticed
disciples! "Many that are first shall be last, and the last first."
The encouragement to persevering prayer, especially to parents anxious
for their children, is so obvious that it need only be named. That
silence first, and then these apparent refusals, are trials of faith,
to which many earnest hearts have not been strangers. To all such the
example of this woman of Canaan is of great value. Her earnestness in
making the case of her daughter her own (she does not say, "Have mercy
on my daughter;" but, "Have mercy on _me_;" and again, "Lord,
help _me_"), and her unconquerable perseverance till the answer
came, have been an inspiration ever since, and will be to the end of
the world.
* * * * *
The lesson taught by our Lord's dealing with the woman of Canaan is
conveyed again on a larger scale by what happened in the region of
Decapolis, east of the Sea of Galilee; for it was in that region, as
we learn from the more detailed account in the second Gospel, that the
events which follow came to pass.
The distance from the one place to the other is considerable, and the
route our Lord took was by no means direct. His object at this time
seems to have been to court retirement as much as possible, that He
might give Himself to the preparation of His disciples--and we may,
with reverence add, His own preparation also--for the sad journey
southward to Jerusalem and Calvary. Besides, His work in the north is
done: no more circuits in Galilee now; so He keeps on the far
outskirts of the land, passing through Sidon, across the southern
ridge of Lebanon, past the base of mighty Hermon, then southward to
Decapolis--all the way on border territory, where the people were more
heathen than Jewish in race and religion. We can imagine Him on this
long and toilsome journey, looking in both directions with strange
emotion--away out to the Gentile nations with love and longing; and
(with what mingled feelings of pain and eagerness who can tell?) to
that Jerusalem, where soon He must offer up the awful sacrifice. When,
after the long journey, He came nigh to the Sea of Galilee, He sought
seclusion by going up into a mountain. But even in this borderland He
cannot be hid; and when the sick and needy throng around Him, He
cannot turn away from them. He still keeps within the limits of His
commission, as set forth in His reply to the woman of Canaan; but,
though He does not go to seek out those beyond the pale, when they
seek Him, He cannot send them away; accordingly, in these heathen or
semi-heathen regions, we have another set of cures and another feeding
of the hungry multitude.
We need not dwell on these incidents, as they are a repetition, with
variations, of what He had done at the conclusion of His work in
Galilee. As to the repetition,--strange to say, there are those who
cavil, whenever similar events appear successively in the story of the
life and work of Christ. As if it were possible that a work like His
could be free from repetition! How often does a physician repeat
himself in the course of his practice? Christ is always repeating
Himself. Every time a sinner comes to Him for salvation, He repeats
Himself, with variations; and when need arose in Decapolis--like that
which had previously arisen at Bethsaida, only more urgent, for the
multitude in the present case had been three days from home, and were
ready to faint with hunger--must their wants go unrelieved merely to
avoid repetition? As to the telling of it--for this of course might
have been avoided, on the ground that a similar event had been related
before--was there not most excellent reason for it, in the fact that
these people were not of the house of Israel in the literal sense? To
have omitted the record of these deeds of mercy would have been to
leave out the evidence they afforded that the love of Christ went out
not to Jews only, but to all sick and hungry ones.
Sick and hungry--these words suggest the two great needs of humanity.
Christ comes to heal disease, to satisfy hunger; in particular, to
heal the root disease of sin, and satisfy the deep hunger of the soul
for God and life in Him. And when we read how He healed all manner of
disease among the multitudes in Decapolis, and thereafter fed them
abundantly when they were ready to faint with hunger, we see how He is
set forth as a Saviour from sin and Revealer of God beyond the borders
of the land of Israel.
It is worth noticing how well this general record follows the story
of the woman of Canaan. Just as she--though not of Israel after the
flesh--proved herself to be of Israel after the spirit, so these
heathen or semi-heathen people of Decapolis forsake their paganism
when they see the Christ; for of no heathen deity do they speak: they
"glorified the God of Israel" (ver. 31). Thus we have a contrast
similar to that which we recognised in the case of the woman of
Canaan, between those scribes and Pharisees of Jerusalem--who drew
near to the God of Israel with their lips while the heart was far
away--and these people of Decapolis, who, though "afar off" in the
estimation of these dignitaries of Jerusalem, are in truth "nigh" to
the God of Israel. Is there not in the events of the chapter a
wondrous light cast on the true meaning of the name Israel, as not
according to the flesh, but according to the spirit?
IV.--THE CULMINATION OF THE CRISIS (xvi. 1-12).
All this time Jesus has been keeping as much out of the way of His
ungrateful countrymen as the limits of His commission would permit,
hovering, as it were, around the northern outskirts of the land. But
when in the course of this largest circuit of all His northern
journeys, He reaches Decapolis, He is so near home that He cannot but
cross the lake and revisit the familiar scenes. How is He received? Do
the people flock around Him as they did before? If it had been so, we
should no doubt have been told. There seems to have been not a single
word of welcome. Of all the multitudes He had healed and blessed,
there is no one to cry, "Hosanna to the Son of David!"
His friends, if He has any, have gone back, and walk no more with Him;
but His old enemies the Pharisees do not fail Him; and they are not
alone now, nor, as before, in alliance only with those naturally in
sympathy with them, but have actually made a league with their great
opponents, the two rival parties of Pharisee and Sadducee, finding in
their common hatred of the Christ of God a sinister bond of union.
This is the first time the Sadducees are mentioned in this Gospel as
coming in contact with Jesus. Some of them had come to the baptism of
John, to his great astonishment; but, beyond this, they have as yet
put in no appearance. They were the aristocracy of the land, and held
the most important offices of Church and State in the capital. It is
therefore the less to be wondered at that up to this time the
Carpenter of Nazareth should have been beneath their notice. Now,
however, the news of His great doings in the north has at last
compelled attention; the result is this combination with the
Pharisees, who have already been for some time engaged in the attempt
to put Him down. There is indication elsewhere (Mark viii. 15) that
the Herodians had also united with them; so we may look upon this as
the culmination of the crisis in Galilee, when all the forces of the
country have been roused to active and bitter hostility.
The Pharisees and Sadducees, as is well known, were at opposite poles
of thought; the one being the traditionalists, the other the sceptics,
of the time, so that it was quite remarkable that they should unite in
anything. They did, however, unite in this demand for a sign from
heaven. Neither of them could deny that signs had been given,--that
the blind had received sight, lepers had been cleansed, the lame
healed, and deeds of mercy done on every side. But neither party was
satisfied with this. Each was wedded to a system of thought according
to which signs on earth were of no evidential value. A sign from
heaven was what they needed to convince them. The demand was
practically the same as that which the Pharisees and scribes had made
before (xii. 38), though it is put more specifically here as a sign
_from heaven_. The reason why the Pharisees adopted the same method of
attack as before is not far to seek. Their object was not to obtain
satisfaction as to His claims, but to find the easiest way of
discrediting them; and, knowing as they did from their past experience
that the demand of a special sign would be refused, they counted on
the refusal beforehand, to be used by their new allies as well as
themselves as a weapon against Him. They were not disappointed, for
our Lord was no respecter of persons; therefore He spoke just as
plainly and sternly when the haughty Sadducees were present as He had
done before they made their appearance.
The words are stern and strong; but here again it is "more in sorrow
than in anger" that He speaks. We learn from St. Mark that, as He gave
His answers, "He sighed deeply in His spirit." There had been so many
signs, and they were so plain and clear--signs which spoke for
themselves, signs which so plainly spelt out the words, "The kingdom
of heaven is among you"--that it was unspeakably sad to think that
they should be blind to them all, and find it in their heart to ask
for something else, which in its nature would be no sign at all, but
only a portent, a barren miracle.
We can see in this how determined our Lord was not to minister to the
craving for the merely miraculous. He would work no miracle for the
mere purpose of exciting astonishment or even of producing conviction,
when there was quite enough for all who were at all willing to
receive it, in the regular, natural and necessary development of His
work as the Healer of the sick, the Shepherd of the people, the Refuge
of the troubled and distressed. Had there been no signs of the times,
there might have been some reason for signs in the heavens; but when
there were signs in abundance of the kind to appeal to all that was
best in the minds and hearts of men, why should these be discredited
by resorting to another kind of sign much inferior and far less
adapted to the securing of the special object for which the King of
heaven had come into the world? The signs of the times were after all
far more easily discerned than those signs in the heavens by which
they were accustomed to anticipate both fine and stormy weather. There
were signs of blessing enough to convince any doubter that the summer
of heaven was easily within His reach; on the other hand, in the state
of the nation, and the rapidly developing circumstances which were
hastening on the fulfilment of the most terrible of the prophecies
concerning it, there were signs enough to give far more certain
indication of approaching judgment, than when the red and lowering
morning gave token of the coming thunderstorm (vv. 2, 3). So He tells
them, convicting them of wilful blindness; and then repeats in almost
identical terms the refusal He had given to the scribes and Pharisees
before: "A wicked and adulterous generation seeketh after a sign; and
there shall no sign be given unto it, but the sign of the prophet
Jonas" (see xii. 39, and remarks on it on pp. 166-8).
"And He left them, and departed." How sad for Him; how awful for them!
Had there been in their hearts one single aspiration for the true and
good, He would not have left them so. Where are these Pharisees and
Sadducees now? What do they now think of the work of that day?
"He left them, and again entering into the boat departed to the other
side" (Mark viii. 13). Did He ever cross the lake again? If He did,
there is no record of it. He passed in sight of it in that sorrowful
southward journey to Jerusalem which He must presently commence; and
He will visit the same shore again after His resurrection to cheer the
apostles at their toil; but this seems to have been the last crossing.
What a sad one it must have been!--after a beginning so bright that it
was heralded as daybreak on Gennesaret's shore, after all His
self-denying toil, after all the words of wisdom He has spoken and the
deeds of mercy He has done upon these shores, to leave them, as He
does now, rejected and despised, an outcast, to all outward appearance
a failure. No wonder He is silent in that crossing of the lake; no
wonder He is lost in saddest thought, turning over and over in His
mind the signs of the times forced so painfully on His attention!
The disciples with Him in the boat had no share in these sad thoughts.
Their minds, as it would seem, were occupied for the most part with
the mistake they had made in provisioning the boat. Accordingly, when
at last He broke silence, He found them quite out of touch with Him.
He had been thinking of the sad unbelief of these Pharisees and
Sadducees, and of the awful danger of allowing the spirit which was in
them to dominate the life; hence the solemn caution: "Take heed, and
beware of the leaven of the Pharisees and of the Sadducees." The
disciples meantime had been counting their loaves, or rather, looking
sadly on the one loaf which, on searching their baskets, they found to
be all they had; and when the word _leaven_ caught their ear, coupled
with a caution as to a particular kind of it, they said one to
another, "It is because we have taken no bread!" Another cause of
sadness to the Master. He had been mourning over the blindness of
Pharisees and Sadducees; He must now mourn over the blindness of His
own disciples; and not blindness only, but also forgetfulness of a
thrice-taught lesson: for why should the mere supply of bread be any
cause of anxiety to them, after what they had seen once and again in
these very regions to which they were going?
But these hearts were not shut against Him; theirs was not the
blindness of those that will not see; accordingly, the result is very
different. He did not leave them and depart; nor, on the other hand,
did He explain in so many words what He meant. It was far better that
they should find out for themselves. The riddles of nature and of life
are not furnished with keys. They must be discerned by thoughtful
attention; so, instead of providing them a key to His little parable,
He puts them in the way of finding it for themselves by asking them a
series of questions which convinced them of their thoughtlessness and
faithlessness, and led them to recognise His true meaning (vv. 8-12).