To many readers it may seem impious to say that under the head of Repartee
we must classify many of those words of Jesus with which he cuts through
the sophistry of opponents and disentangles himself from the webs that are
woven about him. Let it be remembered, however, that we are dealing with
his utterances simply as literature; with their religious significance, we
are not now concerned. We are discussing the sayings of Jesus as we would
the sayings of Johnson or Goldsmith.
One of the most striking instances is found in the controversy over
exorcism. When the scribes who came down from Jerusalem charged, "He hath
Beelzebub and by the prince of the devils casts he out devils," he quickly
reduced the accusation to an absurdity: "How can Satan cast out Satan? If
he rise up against himself and be divided, he cannot stand, but hath an
end." He goes further--"If I by Beelzebub cast out devils, by whom do your
children cast them out?"
There was one occasion, however, when Jesus himself seems to have been
vanquished by a swift rejoinder. When the Syro-Phenician woman came to him
in behalf of her daughter, in order to test her faith he said,--"Let the
children first be filled, for it is not meet to take the children's bread
and to cast it unto the dogs." "Yes, Lord," she answered, "yet the dogs
under the table eat of the children's crumbs." These words came from a
bright intellect as well as from a trusting heart. Jesus appreciated the
keenness of the reply no less than the confidence it expressed. "_For this
saying_ go thy way; the devil is gone out of thy daughter." "For once,"
says Macbeth, "Jesus was refuted and that by his own figure; and he wished
to be refuted."
How we enjoy such a dilemma as the one in which he placed the chief
priests and the scribes and the elders! They asked him, "By what authority
doest thou these things? And who gave thee authority to do these things?"
"I will also ask of you one question," says Jesus, "and answer me, and I
will tell you by what authority I do these things--the baptism of John,
was it from heaven, or of men? answer me." "And they reasoned with
themselves, saying, If we shall say from heaven, he will say, Why then did
ye not believe him? But if we shall say of men,--they feared the people;
for all men counted John that he was a prophet, indeed. And they answered
and said unto Jesus, We can not tell." "And Jesus answered and said unto
them, Neither tell I you by what authority I do these things."
Another time "came to Jesus Scribes and Pharisees which were of Jerusalem,
saying, Why do thy disciples transgress the tradition of the Elders? for
they wash not their hands when they eat bread?" How quick and effective
the reply: "Why do ye also transgress the commandment of God by your
tradition?" Nothing could be said in response. The question was absolutely
closed. The disciples violate your tradition? Very good; but what does
your tradition violate? Can we not see his opponents, falling back beaten,
knitting their brows, taking counsel together, planning some overwhelming
defeat for this impudent young heretic? What Thersites said of Ajax would
well apply to them: "He bites his lips with a politic regard, as who
should say, There were wit in this head an' 'twould out; and so there is,
but it lies as coldly in him as fire in a flint, which will not show
without knocking."
When the woman poured the spikenard on the head of Jesus, Judas, the
virtuous Judas, forsooth! made objection. "Why was not this ointment sold
for three hundred pence _and given to the poor_?" Why not, indeed,--for
Judas is custodian of the poor fund. "Judas," returns his Master,--and
there was pathos as well as rebuke in the words,--"Judas, the poor ye have
with you always, and whenever ye will, ye may do them good." This was the
first time Judas had ever manifested any solicitude for the poor. "But me,
ye have not always." Judas was silenced; but he began to brood revenge.
Soon he stole out and went to the chief priests. He had not secured the
price of the spikenard, but he would indemnify himself by selling his
Master!
With what relish do we read the trenchant replies of Jesus to the Scribes
and Pharisees and Herodians who had leagued to "entangle him in his talk."
Easily as Samson broke the green withes, did he break the verbal fetters
they forged. "In the resurrection, they neither marry nor are given in
marriage!" "Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's, and unto God
the things that are God's." What can be more admirable viewed simply as
repartee,--as illustrations of the "dexterous leap of thought by which the
mind escapes from a seemingly hopeless dilemma?" If one were to read such
fragments of Gospel history for the first time, without the idea that he
must attach a solemn and awful meaning to every word, how would he delight
in these intellectual contests and hail the genius of the victor!
After the besiegers, in the preceding incident, had exhausted their
fruitless ingenuity, Jesus turns upon them with the question, "What think
ye of Christ? Whose Son is he?" "The Son of David," they feebly mutter.
"How then doth David call him Lord? If David call him Lord, how is he his
son?" That ended the controversy. The combined forces of theology and
politics retired in confusion, evidently looking, as Dickens said of the
portraits of the Dedlock family, "as if they did not know what to make of
it." They had lost the battle. One can imagine the evangelist who
afterwards wrote the account, almost chuckling with inward satisfaction,
as he recalled the scene and recorded the result: "And no man was able to
answer him a word, neither durst any man from that day ask him any more
questions."