certainty between the wheat and common grass; it is when the ear is
formed and filled, that you know at a glance, which is the fruitful and
which the fruitless plant There is a similar ambiguity, in as far as
appearance is concerned, in the earliest outgrowth of convictions from
the hearing of the word. Not that there is any uncertainty in the nature
of the things: the wheat is wheat, and the grass is grass from the
first: but an observer cannot so surely at first determine which is
wheat, and which is merely grass.
Thus, many hopeful impressions that appear for a while in the young, die
away, and bring forth no fruit; but at later stages, a judgment may be
formed with greater confidence. The plant assumes by degrees a more
definite form, and a more substantial fulness: the fruits of the Spirit,
green at first, but growing gradually more and more mellow, crown the
profession of a Christian.
Let us not deceive ourselves, in connection with the acknowledged
secrecy of the Spirit's work. The growing is an unseen thing; but
the grown ripened grain is visible. It is the inner power that is hid;
the fruit may be seen by all. There is indeed an invisible Christ, who
is already within his people the resurrection and the life; but there is
no invisible Christianity. How grace in the heart grows is an
inscrutable mystery; when it is grown, it is known and read of all men.
Your life, as to its source and supply, is hid with Christ in God: but
your life, as to its practical effects, is a city set on a hill. There
is a great difference between the light that you get and the light that
you give. The Lord in heaven is the light of Christians; but Christians
are the light of the world.
The source of the mighty Ganges is secret; and that secret the
superstition of the Hindus has converted into a religious mystery. But
the Ganges is not a secret unseen thing, as it flows through the plains
of India, fertilizing a continent.
"The harvest is come." It is not the end of the world; it is not even
the close of a Christian life in the world. There is a ripening and a
fruit-bearing while life in the body lasts: there is also a reaping and
an enjoying of the harvest by those who sow the seed, or their
successors. The announcement, "one soweth and another reapeth," clearly
implies that the same one who sows may also to some extent reap. There
is part of both: a sower gathers some of the fruit of his labour in his
own lifetime; and some of it is gathered by others after he has
departed.
Here is a lesson for ministers and teachers. The Lord, who sends them
out to sow, expects that they will look and long for fruit, and be
disappointed if it does not appear. When the case occurs, as occur it
may, in which the sower is not permitted to reap, the delay, although
not a ground of despair, should be a source of disappointment: the
stroke will be felt painful, if there is life where the stroke falls.
The giver of the seed expects that the sower, if he lives to see it
ripening, will reap it joyfully. It is like the joy of harvest to see
the Lord's work prospering under our own hand. The Master seems to chide
the inertness of his servants when he says, "the fields are white
already to harvest." If it were their meat, as it was his, to do the
Father's will, they would bound more quickly into the field, whenever
they saw it whitening.
Some lessons, partly encouraging, partly reproving, which lie in the
parable, but have hitherto been either omitted or only incidentally
touched in the course of exposition, may be now conveniently enumerated
in the close.
1. The work of sowing and the joy of reaping advance simultaneously on
the spiritual field. The labour of the husbandman in the natural sphere
is all and only sowing at one season, all and only reaping at another:
the seed of the word affords a different experience; in the kingdom of
God there is no period of the year when you must not sow, or may not
reap. These two processes are in experience very closely linked
together. They become alternately and reciprocally cause and effect: if
we were not permitted at an early period to reap a little, the work of
sowing would proceed languidly or altogether cease; on the other hand if
we cease to sow, we shall not long continue to reap. When the workmen
are introduced into this circle, it carries them continuously round.
2. In any given spot of the field there may be sowing in spring, and yet
no reaping in harvest. If there is no sowing, there will be no reaping;
but the converse does not hold good; you cannot say, wherever there has
been sowing, it will be followed by a reaping. The seed may be carried
away by wild birds, or wither on stony ground, or be choked by thorns.
"Watch and pray that ye enter not into temptation."
3. The growth of the sown seed is secret; secret also is its failure. It
is quite true, there may be grace in the heart of a neighbour unseen,
unsuspected by me; but the heart of my neighbour may be graceless while
I am in its earlier stages ignorant of the fact. The gnawing of a worm
at the root of one plant is for a time as secret as the healthful growth
of another. "Lord, is it I?" I must not too lightly assume either in the
natural or the spiritual husbandry, that everything is prospering that
is out of sight.
4. Though the sower is helpless after he has cast the seed into the
ground, he should not be hopeless; we know that the seed is a living
thing, and will grow except where it is impeded by extraneous
obstacles. "The word of God is quick (living) and powerful."
5. In every case the harvest, in one sense, will come; on every spot of
all the field there will be a reaping. If one set of ministers do not
reap there, another will. Where there is not conversion, there will be
condemnation. The regeneration is one harvest; the judgment is another.
The angels are not sowers, but they are reapers. Where the men who sowed
the seed find nothing to reap during the day of grace, those ministering
spirits to whom no seed has been intrusted will be sent with a sickle to
cut down and cast away. The first harvest is like the first
resurrection; blessed are they who have part in it. In the ministry of
the Baptist, the appointed preparer of his way, Christ comes from heaven
to earth on the blessed errand of gathering his wheat into the garner:
rejoice therefore, Christians; he has prepared for you a place, and he
will bring you safely to it; but take heed and beware of hypocrisy; for
see, while he comes to bring home the wheat, he carries a "fan in his
hand" (Matt. iii. 12).
XVI.
THE TWO DEBTORS.
"And one of the Pharisees desired him that he would eat with him. And he
went into the Pharisee's house, and sat down to meat. And, behold, a
woman in the city, which was a sinner, when she knew that Jesus sat
at meat in the Pharisee's house, brought an alabaster box of
ointment, and stood at his feet behind him weeping, and began to
wash his feet with tears, and did wipe them with the hairs of her
head, and kissed his feet, and anointed them with the ointment. Now
when the Pharisee which had bidden him saw it, he spake within
himself, saying, This man, if he were a prophet, would have known
who and what manner of woman this is that toucheth him; for she is a
sinner. And Jesus answering said unto him, Simon, I have somewhat to
say unto thee. And he saith, Master, say on. There was a certain
creditor which had two debtors: the one owed five hundred pence, and
the other fifty. And when they had nothing to pay, he frankly
forgave them both. Tell me therefore, which of them will love him
most? Simon answered and said, I suppose that he, to whom he forgave
most. And he said unto him, Thou hast rightly judged. And he turned
to the woman, and said unto Simon, Seest thou this woman? I entered
into thine house, thou gavest me no water for my feet: but she hath
washed my feet with tears, and wiped them with the hairs of her
head. Thou gavest me no kiss: but this woman since the time I came
in hath not ceased to kiss my feet. My head with oil thou didst not
anoint: but this woman hath anointed my feet with ointment.
Wherefore I say unto thee, Her sins, which are many, are forgiven;
for she loved much: but to whom little is forgiven, the same loveth
little. And he said unto her, Thy sins are forgiven. And they that
sat at meat with him began to say within themselves, Who is this
that forgiveth sins also? And he said to the woman, Thy faith hath
saved thee; go in peace."--LUKE vii. 36-50.
An interesting and difficult question regarding the harmony of the
Gospels generally attaches itself to the exposition of this parable.
Each of the four Evangelists narrates that a woman anointed Jesus while
he sat at table; and it becomes difficult to determine with certainty
whether they refer all to the same event, or some to one event, and some
to another. In the narratives features of similarity occur; leading to
the one conclusion, and features of dissimilarity leading to the other.
The prevailing opinion now is that Matthew, Mark, and John, speak all of
the same fact, and that Luke speaks of another. I have thought it right
to mention, that this question has been often discussed in connection
with our parable; but I shall do no more. The decision of it here and
now is by no means necessary: the interpretation of the parable does not
in any measure depend upon it. It is an inquiry belonging to a different
branch of Scripture exposition, and to discuss it here would tend to
distract attention from the subject in hand.
Assuming then without argument that Luke here records an event which is
not mentioned by any of the other Evangelists, I shall proceed at once
to examine its substance as the ground from which the parable directly
springs. The husbandman at one time operates directly on the tree, and
at another time directly on the ground in the neighbourhood; in both
cases however, and in both alike, his aim is to increase the
fruitfulness of the tree; it is thus that an expositor must in some
instances turn his attention in the first place to the surrounding
context which suggests and sustains the parable, as the best means of
ascertaining the import of the parable itself.
A Pharisee invited Jesus to a feast: he accepted the invitation and
joined the company at the appointed place and time. A woman who had been
of bad character in the town, as soon as she learned that he was there,
entered the apartment where the guests reclined at meat, and stood at
his feet behind him weeping. Her tears rained down on his feet; she
wiped them off with her hair, and then anointed them with precious
ointment.
Let us endeavour to determine precisely the character of the several
actors and the meaning of their acts.
The Pharisee, having formed, on the whole, a favourable opinion of Jesus
as a prophet in Israel, and being, as he supposed, in a position to act
the patron, with benevolent intent, but with a high estimate of his own
character and position, invited to his house and table the remarkable
Nazarene, whose miracles and doctrines were in every one's mouth.
Doubtless he expected, also, that by closer contact, and by means of his
own shrewd observation, he should be able definitely to make up his mind
on the character of the new prophet, and so to favour or frown on him
according to the result.
While her actions only are recorded in the narrative, we may, by the
light of the Lord's subsequent declarations, also read without danger of
mistake the emotions that were working in this woman's heart. She had
fallen into a course of vice, and consequently lost caste in the
community. Knowing that she had lost the respect of her neighbours, she
had lost respect for herself. From a sinful act she had glided into
sinful habits. Perhaps remorse from time to time made her inwardly
sorrowful; but she put on a bold countenance, and tried to laugh down
rebuke.
This woman, while in this state, crept one day to the outer edge of a
crowd in the neighbourhood of the city, to satisfy her curiosity as to
the cause of the concourse. In the centre stood Jesus of Nazareth
preaching; and all the people in solemn silence hung upon his lips. She
listened too, and heard some wonderful words; God loved the world; God
pardons sin--pardons freely, pardons it all; pardons chief sinners;
loves to pardon; has given his Son to seek and save; this is the Son,
revealing the Father, and inviting the prodigal to return to the
Father's bosom. Hark; he says, "Come unto me all that labour and are
heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Peeping through openings in the
crowd, she might see the love that beamed in the preacher's countenance,
as well as hear the gracious words that came from his mouth.
The woman's heart is touched and taken; the woman is won. By that still
small voice the devil's chains are broken, the rocky heart is rent. When
the congregation dissolves, she steals away to her house alone. There
her eye falls on some gaudy ornaments, the instruments of her sin, and
the badges of her shame. Whence this sudden strong loathing? Perhaps she
grasps them convulsively and flings them on the fire, shutting her eyes
that she may not see her tormentors. She sits down, and searches her own
heart,--her own life. She discovers that it is altogether vile. Her own
heart is the darkest, deepest pit out of hell; she is the chief of
sinners. She never knew this before. She had often experienced twitches
of conscience for particular acts of evil; but now her whole life and
her whole being seem one dark, deep, crimson sin. What has done this? It
was that word of Jesus; it was the pardon that he offered; it was the
divine compassion that beamed on his countenance and glowed on his lips.
She was melted. The old stony heart flowed down like water, and went
away; and a new, tender, trustful, loving heart came up in its place.
She is not the same woman that she was yesterday. She is a new creature
in Christ Jesus; but she could not yet tell the name and describe the
nature of the change that had taken place in her being, as a new-born
child could not announce the fact and explain the nature of its birth.
The infant will manifest its birth and life, by seeking sustenance from
its mother's breast; and when the child has grown, the grown man will
reflect on his birth, and perhaps understand in some measure its nature
and importance. Such was the passing from death into life in the
experience of that woman. Conversion in our own day often takes place as
secretly, and as soon. The word of the Lord that proved itself quick and
powerful then, liveth and abideth the same for ever; and this is the
word which by the Gospel is preached unto us still.
The natural history of conversion does not change with the lapse of
centuries, any more than natural history in other departments; there
were doubtless examples of secret regeneration in the time of our Lord
and his apostles, as well as in our own time. He knew this woman's case
as well as he knew the case of the woman who pressed through the crowd
to touch the hem of his garment. That woman, when she was healed, would
have kept her case secret at the time if she could; she was put about
and ashamed when she was called in public, and her experience proclaimed
in the crowd. It suited the purpose of the Lord to make known her
experience on the spot; that method he saw would do most for his
kingdom. But in the case of this woman who was a sinner, he did not act
in the same way. There are diversities in his operation. He foresaw an
occasion when her repentance and faith could be turned to greater
account; accordingly he postponed the public announcement of her
forgiveness till then. True to the new instinct that had been planted in
her heart, this saved sinner, as soon as she heard that Jesus sat at
meat in the Pharisee's house, grasped the richest offering she possessed
and hastened to the spot. Her plans, I think, were not fully laid. The
impulses of a bursting heart drew her to the place where her Redeemer
was; but she had not foreseen all the difficulties, and consequently had
not prepared the means of overcoming them.
Arrived at the house, she entered the open door; and passing through the
attendants, penetrated into the apartment where the company reclined at
meat. The table stood in the middle of the hall, and sofas in a
continuous line were placed near it on either side. On these sofas were
the guests, not sitting as we do with their feet on the floor beneath
the table, but reclining with their feet projecting a little behind, the
sandals having previously been drawn off by servants, for coolness and
comfort. Thus it was easy for one who entered the room, to walk up to
any individual of the company and converse with him during the meal;
and, so far from being out of the way and unnatural, it was the easiest
and most natural of all things, that the woman, when she came to Jesus,
should touch his feet. This was precisely the part of his body which she
could most easily reach, and which she might bathe and anoint, while the
meal proceeded, without difficulty to herself or inconvenience to him.
We shall fall into a mistake if we think either that the act as here
narrated was altogether accordant with the habits of the time and place,
or altogether contrary to them; it was partly the one and partly the
other.
In the first place it was an act radically diverse from the intrusion of
a stranger to anoint the feet of a guest sitting at dinner with his
friend in our country and our day. Such an act among us would be so
unprecedented, so difficult, so awkward, that it would shock every
observer, if it were attempted, and bring the whole business to a stand.
There and then, in as far as the entrance of a person unbidden is
concerned, there was nothing to attract attention. There is abundant
evidence that even at this day, it is common in the East for persons not
of the party to enter the feast chamber during the progress of the meal,
and sitting on seats by the wall, converse on business or politics with
the guests that recline beside the table; and, further, from the
position of the guests, it was not difficult, but easy to reach his
feet. Thus far, all was accordant with use and wont. But as to the
person who entered on that occasion, and the act which she performed,
there was something strange and out of the way. It was fitted to attract
attention, and to excite suspicion; and so indeed it did. A woman,
coming in while the company sat at meat, and such a woman, habit and
repute disreputable; and besides all this, the ardency of her emotions,
and the familiarity of her acts, surprised the onlookers.
I think it important to notice these two sides of the case; so much of
it was according to use and wont, that the entrance of the woman by
itself did not surprise and shock the company; and yet so much of it was
strange, that the curiosity of the company was aroused, and their
attention arrested. The circumstances of the incident on both sides,
were thus calculated to promote the design of Jesus, to instruct and
reprove. There was as much of the ordinary in the act as prevented it
from shocking the feelings; and as much of the extraordinary as awakened
the interest of the spectators.
When she reached the feet of the Redeemer with the intention of
anointing them in token of her adoring gratitude, her plan seems to have
been deranged for the moment, by a sudden and uncontrollable flood of
tears, as if the fountains of the great deep within her being had been
opened, and grief and gladness, both at their height, had met and
caused an overflow. From the position she had assumed those tears wet
the feet of Jesus; and having no other towel, she, with a woman's sudden
instinct, dried them again with her long flowing hair.[59]
[59] "She was forgiven much; therefore she loved much. As soon as
she had learned that Jesus was at table in Simon the Pharisee's
house, her heart drew her thither to him, that she might offer him
the expression of her gratitude and love,--of her adoration and her
joy. She took with her a phial of ointment, the costliest that she
possessed, found an entrance into the Pharisee's house, and walked
behind backs to the feet of Jesus, as he reclined at table on an
elevated cushion. Arrived there, she is incapable of accomplishing
her purpose. The thought of the greatness of her sin, and the
greatness of the compassion of Jesus, broke her heart. She wept, and
so unwittingly wet the feet of Jesus with her tears. Oh, salt,
salutary tears! They are tears at once of repentance and gratitude.
Now, she must first dry the Lord's feet again. But for this she had
not prepared herself; for this she had nothing but her hair. So she
wiped them with her hair; and kissed the feet of Jesus, and then
anointed them with ointment. All this was the manifestation of her
inward burning love to the Lord."--_Arndt_, ii, 85, 86.
"Now, when the Pharisee which had bidden him saw it, he spake within
himself, This man, if he were a prophet, would have known who and what
manner of woman this is that toucheth him." It was an acknowledged sign
of a true prophet to be a discerner of hearts. Simon had this test
before his mind, and was secretly applying it to determine the claims of
Jesus. But another principle lay deep in the heart of the Pharisee,
which he considered applicable to the case in hand: he counted, as a
matter of course, that a prophet, while he might sit at table on terms
of equality with himself, a good man, would not accept any mark of
homage from a bad one. He believed that, by his knowledge of the town,
he had gained advantage over the prophet of Nazareth, who was a
stranger, and had found a ground on which he might reject his claims.
Simon knew the character of this woman. Believing that Jesus, as a
righteous man, would have spurned her away if he had known what she
was, he thought he saw in the fact of his bearing with her an evidence
that he was ignorant of her character.
The reasoning was this. Either he knows what sort of a woman this is, or
he does not. If he does not know, he is not a prophet, because he cannot
discern spirits; if he knows, he is not a prophet, for he does not cast
the disreputable person away. On either alternative, therefore, he is
not a prophet.[60]
[60] The dilemma is well put by Dr. Trench.
* * * * *
I proceed now, under the direction of the Lord's own words, to consider
the spiritual meaning and the practical use of the narrative. The
creditor is God, in whom we live, and move, and have our being--from
whom we derive all, and to whom we must account for all; the debtors
sinful men; and the debts the sins which they have severally done.
Of the two, while both are in debt, one owes ten times as much as the
other. A comparison of this proportion, with that which appears in the
parable of the unmerciful servant, is interesting. Between the debt
which the servant owed to his master, and the debt which a
fellow-servant owed to him, there is no assignable proportion: so vast
is the difference that we cannot form a definite conception of the
relation. This is precisely what we should expect in order to show the
disproportion, or want of all proportion, between sins against God and
sins against a neighbour. In this parable, on the other hand, the debt
in both cases is due to the master, and not in either due by one servant
to another. We accordingly do not expect, and do not find a
disproportion so vast; and yet, there is a great difference between the
two sums. In the one case the debt is five hundred pence, and in the
other fifty: the less is only one-tenth of the larger sum. Although
there are aggravations in one case, and alleviations in another, I think
the disproportion would not have been so great as in the parable it
actually is, if it had been the design of the Lord here to teach us how
much the guilt of one man may exceed that of another in the sight of
God. From the circumstances of this case we may safely gather that these
sums represent not the absolute quantity of sin-debt that stood against
these men severally in the book of divine justice, but the estimate
which they severally made of their own shortcomings. The fifty and the
five hundred pence indicate the amounts which the debtors severally
acknowledged, rather than those which the creditor might have claimed.