proceeds, other streams join it in succession from the right and left
until it becomes a river. Ever flowing, and ever increasing as it flows,
it thinks it will make a great contribution to the ocean when it shall
reach the shore at length. No, river, you are an unprofitable servant;
the ocean does not need you; could do as well and be as full without
you; is not in any measure made up by you. True, rejoins the river, the
ocean is so great that all my volume poured into it makes no sensible
difference; but still I contribute so much, and this, as far as it goes,
increases the amount of the ocean's supply. No: this indeed is the
seeming to the ignorant observer on the spot; but whoever obtains deeper
knowledge and a wider range, will discover and confess that the river
is an unprofitable servant to the sea--that it contributes absolutely
nothing to the sea's store. From the ocean came every drop of water that
rolls down in that river's bed, alike those that fell into it in rain
from the sky, and those that flowed into it from tributary rivers, and
those that sprang from hidden veins in the earth. Even although it
should restore all, it gives only what it received. It could not flow,
it could not be, without the free gift of all from the sea. To the sea
it owes its existence and power. The sea owes it nothing; would be as
broad and deep although this river had never been. But all this natural
process goes on, sweetly and beneficently, notwithstanding: the river
gets and gives; the ocean gives and gets. Thus the circle goes round,
beneficent to creation, glorious to God.
Thus, in the spiritual sphere,--in the world that God has created by the
Spirit of his Son, circulations beautiful and beneficent continually
play. From him, and by him, and to him are all things. To the saved man
through whom God's mercy flows, the activity is unspeakably precious: to
him the profit, but to God the praise.
XXVIII.
THE IMPORTUNATE WIDOW.
"And he spake a parable unto them to this end, that men ought always to
pray, and not to faint: saying, There was in a city a judge, which
feared not God, neither regarded man: and there was a widow in that
city; and she came unto him, saying, Avenge me of mine adversary.
And he would not for a while: but afterwards he said within himself,
Though I fear not God, nor regard man; yet because this widow
troubleth me, I will avenge her, lest by her continual coming she
weary me. And the Lord said, Hear what the unjust judge saith. And
shall not God avenge his own elect, which cry day and night unto
him, though he bear long with them? I tell you that he will avenge
them speedily. Nevertheless when the Son of man cometh; shall he
find faith on the earth?"--LUKE xviii. 1-8.
Among the parables this one is signalized by the distinctness with which
its object is announced at the commencement, and the principle of its
interpretation at the close. No room is left here for diversity of
opinion regarding the lesson which the Lord intended to teach, or the
manner in which the parable should be expounded. The design is expressed
in verse first; the rule of interpretation in verses sixth and seventh.
Why did the Master tell this story to his disciples? To teach them "that
men ought to pray always, and not to faint." How may this lesson be
derived from it? As the widow by her unremitting cry obtained her desire
from the judge, God's own redeemed children will obtain from their
Father in heaven all that they need, if they ask it eagerly,
persistently, unwearyingly.
When we rightly comprehend the design of the parable, the difficulty
connected with the bad character of the judge at once disappears. It was
necessary to go to a corrupt tribunal in order to find a suitable case;
a pure judgment seat supplies no such example. In certain circumstances
you might gather from a dunghill a medicinal herb which cleaner ground
would never bear. The grain which becomes our bread grows best when its
roots are spread in unseen corruption; and so perfect is the chemistry
of nature, that the yellow ears of harvest retain absolutely no taint of
the putrescence whence they sprung. Thus easily and perfectly the Lord
brings lessons of holiness from examples of sin. He pauses not to
apologize or explain: majestically the instruction advances, like the
processes of nature, until the unrighteousness of man defines and
illustrates the mercy of God.
It is not by accident,--it is by choice that this seed of the word is
sown on filthy ground: it is sown there, because it will grow best
there. The experience of a righteous human tribunal does not supply the
material of this lesson. Where the presiding judge is just, a poor
injured widow will obtain redress at once, and her perseverance will
never be put to the test. The characteristic feature of the case which
the Lord needed, was a persistent, unyielding perseverance in the cry
for redress; for such a case he must go to a court where law does not
regulate the judge, but where the judge for his own ease or interest
makes his own law. The feature of Christ's teaching which most arrested
intelligent listeners in his own day, was its inherent, self-evidencing
majesty. Instead of seeking props, it stood forth alone, obviously
divine. He taught with authority, and not as the scribes. Here is an
example of that simple supremeness that is at once a witness to itself.
He compares explicitly and broadly the method of God's dealing, as the
hearer of prayer, with the practice of a judge who is manifestly vile
and venal. Nor is a word of explanation or apology interposed. He who
thus simply brings sweet food from noisome carrion, has all power in
heaven and in earth; His ways are not as our ways, nor his thoughts as
our thoughts.
As he needed for his purpose an example of judicial corruption, examples
lay ready to his hand in human history; especially in the practice of
oriental empires, ancient and modern, it is easy to find cases in which
the supreme authority, civil and criminal, is vested in a deputy who
habitually sacrifices justice to his own ease or interest.
The thorough badness of this judge, although stated distinctly, is
stated briefly; it is not made prominent in the parable, and should not
be made prominent in the interpretation of the parable. That badness on
both sides, towards God and man, is I apprehend not introduced here for
its own sake, but for the sake of a particular effect that resulted from
it;--the frequent, persevering appeals of the widow for redress. This is
the thing that is needed and used in the Lord's lesson; and although the
injustice of the judge stands distinctly out on the face of the parable,
it is like the forest tree in the vineyards of Italy, used only to hold
up the vine. Earnest, repeated, unyielding appeal by a needy, feeble
suppliant before the throne of power;--this is the fruit which is
precious for the Teacher's purpose, and the hollow heart of the
epicurean judge is employed only as the trunk to bear it. When it has
held up that fruit to be ripened, itself may be thrown away.
At certain points in frequented routes through romantic scenery it is
customary to fire a gun in order to afford the tourists an opportunity
of hearing the echoes answering each other in the neighbouring
mountains. The explosion is in place nearest, in time first, and as to
sound loudest, but this the most articulate and arrestive fact is
employed exclusively for the purpose of producing the subsequent and
more distant echo. The explosion is instantly dismissed from the mind
and attention concentrated on the reverberation which it called forth.
The conduct of the judge in this parable stands precisely in the place
of that explosion. When it has produced the widow's importunity it is of
no further use; it must be thrown aside.
Let us hear now the interpretation,--"And the Lord said, Hear what the
unjust judge saith," &c. God's own chosen and redeemed people correspond
to the suppliant widow in the parable. They are like her in her
suffering and her weakness; they should be like her too in her
unintermittent, persevering cry.
Like other similar lessons, this one bears equally on the Church as a
body, and on an individual Christian. The Church collective, in times of
persecution, and a soul surrounded by temptations, stand equally in the
place of the poor widow; they are in need and in danger. They have no
resources in themselves; help must come from one that is mighty. It is
their interest to plead with him who has all power in heaven and in
earth,--to plead as men plead for life.
The lesson here is very specific; it bears on one point, and in order
that all its force may be concentrated on one point, others are for the
time omitted. This parable is not spoken with the view of teaching that
Christians ought to pray; that duty is assumed here, not enjoined.
Neither does it prescribe what the suppliant should ask, or on whose
merits he should lean. Taking for granted all these things which the
Scriptures elsewhere explicitly teach, the Master in this lesson
confines his attention to one thing,--perseverance in prayer when the
answer does not come at first, perseverance and pertinacity aye and
until the object is attained.
It is expressly intimated in the narrative that there is sometimes a
long, and from our view-point inexplicable delay. This is the meaning of
the expression "though he bear long with them." This phrase is not taken
here in its ordinary signification,--an endurance of injuries; it means
that he holds back long, and resists their pressure for relief.
Here are the two sides over against each other: they cry day and night,
and he, hearing their continuous cry, refrains from bestowing the relief
for which they passionately plead. As God keeps back the answer, they
redouble the cry; as they redouble the cry, God still withholds the
answer. Expressly we are informed he will give answer; he will avenge
his own elect. The eternal Father treasures up all the supplications of
his children, and he will yet give them deliverance. When his time comes
the deliverance will be complete; but in the meantime the interesting
inquiry presents itself, Why does he delay at all? In the light of
Scripture we are able to give a satisfactory answer to this inquiry.
The reason why the widow's claims were left long unsettled in the court
was the self-pleasing indolence of the judge. The love of his own ease
was the motive that induced him both to refuse redress at first and to
grant it afterwards. He refused to avenge her until he perceived that to
do her justice would afford him less trouble than to withhold it. In the
treatment which the petitions of the elect receive at the throne of God
there is nothing in common with the conduct of the unjust judge, except
the delay. The fact that the petitions lie for some time unanswered is
common to both tribunals, but on all other points they are wholly
diverse, and even the single feature of coincidence springs in the two
cases from opposite grounds.
When God withholds the deliverance for which his children plead he acts
with wisdom and love combined. It would be, so to speak, easier for a
father who is at once rich and benevolent to comply immediately and
fully with all the child's demands; it requires and exercises a deeper,
stronger love to leave the child crying and knocking for a time in vain
that the bounty given at the proper time may in the end be a greater
boon. I once knew two men who lived near each other in similar worldly
circumstances, but adopted opposite methods in the treatment of their
children. The boys of this family obtained money from their father when
they asked it, and spent it according to their own pleasure, without his
knowledge or control: the boys of that family often asked, but seldom
received a similar supply. The father who frequently thwarted his
children's desires loved his children more deeply, and as the result
showed, more wisely than the father who could not summon courage
sufficient to say No. The wise parent bore with his own when they
pleaded for some dangerous indulgence, and the bearing wounded his
tender heart; but by reason of his greater love, he bore the pain of
hearing their cry without granting their request. The other parent was
too indolent and self-pleasing to endure such a strain, and he lived to
taste bitter fruit from the evil seed which his own hand had sown.
For the same reason, and in the same manner, our Father in heaven bears
with his own when they cry night and day to him for something on which
their hearts are set. Because he loves us he endures to hear our cry and
see our tears. We do not certainly know what thorn it was that
penetrated Paul's flesh, but we know that it pained him much, that he
eagerly desired to be quit of it, and that he besought the Lord thrice
to take it away. From the fact that the child pleaded three times for
the same boon, we learn that the Father bore with him awhile,--bore, so
to speak, the pain of refusing, because he knew that the refusal was
needful for Paul. The thorn was left in the flesh until its discipline
was done, and then it was plucked out by a strong and gentle hand. "My
grace is sufficient for thee:" there are no thorns in Paul's flesh now.
The case of the Syro-Phoenician woman (Matt. xv. 21-28) runs parallel
with this as well as with the "Friend at midnight." Mark how the Lord
bore with the woman. He delighted in her faith; it was his happiness to
give, and yet he refused; in denying her he denied himself. But by
withholding a while, he kindled her love into a brighter, stronger
flame. By refusing what she asked, he reduplicated her asking; this is
sweet to him and profitable to her. By the long delay on his part and
the consequent eager repetition of the request on her part, a richer
boon was prepared and bestowed. Her appetite was greatly quickened, and
her satisfying was more full. Who shall be filled most abundantly from
the treasures of divine mercy at last? Those who hungered and thirsted
most for these treasures in the house of their pilgrimage.
Think of the plainness of this lesson, and the authority which it
possesses. Its meaning cannot be mistaken; we know what is spoken here,
and we know who speaks. Hath he spoken, and shall he not make it good?
The only begotten Son who is in the bosom of the Father, he hath
declared him. Show us the Father, said Philip, and it sufficeth us; here
Christ, in answer to his disciples' prayer, is showing the Father.
To reveal the Father's heart he spoke this parable. The helpless, needy
woman came and came again, and cried, and would take no refusal, until
the judge was compelled by her importunity to grant her request: and
this is the picture chosen by the Lord Jesus when he desires to show how
God regards suppliant disciples as they plead at his footstool. It is an
amazing revelation, and the best of it is its truth. He who gave it has
authority to speak. The Son will not misrepresent the Father; the
Father's honour is safe in this Teacher's hands. We learn here, then,
that the Hearer of prayer puts himself in the power of a suppliant. He
permitted Jacob to wrestle, and the firmer he felt the grasp the more he
loved the wrestler. The words, "I will not let thee go except thou bless
me," dropping in broken fragments from his lips at intervals as he
paused and panted, were sweeter than angels' songs in the ears of the
Lord of Hosts. He is the same still, as he is in the New Testament
revealed by Jesus. The spirit in man that will take no denial is his
special delight; the spirit that asks once and ceases he cannot away
with. As the Lord loveth a cheerful giver, he loveth too an eager
persevering asker. The door seems narrow, but its narrowness was not
meant to keep us out; they please him best who press most heavily on its
yielding sides. "The kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, and the
violent take it by force." The King of Glory feels well pleased the
warriors' onset,--gladly welcomes the conqueror in.
It is indeed blessed to give: but the giver's blessedness is greatly
marred by the listlessness of the needy creatures on whom he has
bestowed his bounty. If they who need and get the goodness are
insensible, and cold, and ungrateful, the joy of the benefactor is
proportionally diminished. It is thus with "the giving God." When the
receiver values the bounty, the delight of the bestower is increased.
Thus the Lord Jesus was specially pleased as he healed the daughter of
the Syro-Phoenician mother because she gave evidence by her
importunity how much she valued the boon; and, on the other hand, his
plaintive question, "Where are the nine?" when the lepers took their
cure so lightly, shows that he did not much enjoy the act of healing
because the diseased made light both of their ailment and their cure.
Come near, press hard, open your mouth wide, pray without ceasing; for
this is the kind of asking that the great Giver loves. Unforgiven sin on
the conscience keeps the sinful distant, and Satan calls the silence
modesty. It is not; they most honour God who show by their importunity
in asking that they value his gifts.
While it is true that prayer should be a continuous fulness in the
heart, ever pressing outward and upward, flowing wherever it can find an
opening, it is not specifically that characteristic to which this
parable points. This is not the lesson, "In everything by prayer and
supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known unto
God:" the lesson here points not to the breadth of a whole spiritual
life, but to the length of one line that runs through it. Whatever it be
that a disciple desires, and is bent upon obtaining, he should ask not
once, or twice, or twenty times, but ask until he obtain it; or until he
die with the request upon his lips: and in that case he will get his
desire, and more. Trust in God: trust in his love. He who has not spared
his own Son, how shall he not with him freely give us all things? Do not
deem that delay is proof of his indifference. Delaying to bestow is not
proof of indifference in God; but ceasing to ask is proof of
indifference in man. Christ assures us he will give: that should induce
us to continue asking.
Give me these links--1. Sense of need; 2. Desire to get; 3. Belief that
God has it in store; 4. Belief that though he withholds awhile, he loves
to be asked; and 5. Belief that asking will obtain;--give me these
links, and the chain will reach from earth to heaven, bringing heaven
all down to me, or bearing me up into heaven.
While it is right to generalize the lesson, as we have already done, it
is our duty also to notice the special form of the widow's prayer and
the Lord's promise: in both cases it is vengeance against an adversary.
The pleading is that the enemy who wronged the widow should be punished
by the hand of power: the promise is that God will avenge his chosen
ones, who cry to him.
The case is clearly one in which the weak are overpowered by an
adversary too strong for them: unable to defend themselves, or strike
down their foe, they betake themselves to God in prayer. The ailment is
specific; such also is the request. Do justice upon this enemy--rid me
of his oppression and his presence.
Ah, when a soul feels sin's power a bondage, and sin's presence a
loathsome defilement;--when a soul so oppressed flees to the Saviour for
deliverance, the Lord will entertain the case, and grant redress. He
will avenge. "The God of peace will bruise Satan under your feet
shortly."
No cry that rises from earth to heaven sounds so sweetly in the ear of
God as the cry for vengeance upon the enemy of souls. When there is
peace between man and his destroyer, the closet is silent, and no groan
of distress from the deep beats against the gate of heaven. This is not
what Jesus loves. He came not to send this peace on earth, or in heaven;
he came to send a sword. His errand was to produce a deadly quarrel
between the captive soul and the wicked one, its captivator. When the
cry rises, broken and stifled, but eager, as uttered by one engaged in
deadly strife--when the cry, "Avenge me," rises from earth, God in
heaven hears it well pleased. He delights when his people, hating the
adversary of their souls, ask him for vengeance; and he will grant it.
Long to the struggling combatant the battle seems to last, but speedily,
according to God's just reckoning, the avenging stroke will fall. If
there is delay it is but for a moment, and because this added moment of
conflict will make the everlasting victory more sweet.
It is worthy of notice, incidentally, that where an indolent judge, in
order to avoid trouble, gives a just sentence to-day, he may, from the
same motive, give an unjust sentence to-morrow. He who taught this
lesson, knowing all that should befall himself, and hastening forward to
his final suffering, knew well that deepest sorrow may spring from the
selfishness of an unjust judge which happened for that time to bring
deliverance to the widow. Pilate was precisely such a magistrate.
Neither fear of God nor regard for man was the ultimate reason that
determined his decision: the love of his own ease and safety was the
hinge on which his judgment turned. He was disposed to do justly rather
than unjustly in the case, when the Jewish rulers dragged Jesus to his
bar. He would have pronounced a righteous judgment if that course had
seemed to promise greater or equal advantage to himself. But the priests
and people were, like this widow, very importunate and persevering.
"Crucify him, crucify him," they cried. "Why, what evil hath he done?"
"Crucify him, crucify him," rose again in a sound like the voice of many
waters from the heaving throng. "Shall I release Jesus?" interposed the
irresolute Pilate; "Away with this man, and give us Barabbas," was the
instant reply. "Shall I crucify your king?" said Pilate, making yet
another effort to escape the toils that were closing round him; but this
fence laid him open to the heaviest blow of all: "If thou let this man
go, thou art not Cæsar's friend." He gave way at last: by their
continual coming they wearied him, and he abandoned the innocent to
their will.
Thus the unjust as well as the just judgment seat has two sides. Jesus
gave the safe side to the poor widow, and accepted the other for
himself. He became poor that we might be rich: he was condemned that we
might be set free.
XXIX.
THE PHARISEE AND THE PUBLICAN.
"And he spake this parable unto certain which trusted in themselves that
they were righteous, and despised others: Two men went up into the
temple to pray; the one a Pharisee, and the other a publican. The
Pharisee stood and prayed thus with himself, God, I thank thee, that
I am not as other men are, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even
as this publican. I fast twice in the week, I give tithes of all
that I possess. And the publican, standing afar off, would not lift
up so much as his eyes unto heaven, but smote upon his breast,
saying, God be merciful to me a sinner. I tell you, this man went
down to his house justified rather than the other: for every one
that exalteth himself shall be abased; and he that humbleth himself
shall be exalted."--LUKE xviii. 9-14.
In this parable two great classes are represented, not by symbols, but
by specimens. Self-righteous men are here represented by a
self-righteous man, and repenting sinners by a repenting sinner. The
instruction is communicated, not obliquely by a figure, but directly by
a fact. The quality of the harvest is shown by samples taken from the
heap.
If allegory were deemed an essential ingredient of a parable, this
lesson of the Lord would necessarily be excluded from the list; but I am
not disposed to adopt such a narrow and artificial definition. Taking a
general view of its substance, rather than making a minute inspection of
its form, I accept the Pharisee and the publican as a parable according
to the common consent of the Church.
It is almost entirely free from critical and exegetical difficulties: he
may run who reads its lesson.