'And they went into Capernaum; and straightway on the Sabbath day He
entered into the synagogue, and taught. 22. And they were astonished
at His doctrine: for He taught them as one that had authority, and not
as the scribes. 23. And there was in their synagogue a man with an
unclean spirit; and he cried out, 24. Saying, Let us alone; what have
we to do with Thee, Thou Jesus of Nazareth? art Thou come to destroy
us? I know Thee who Thou art, the Holy One of God. 25. And Jesus
rebuked him, saying, Hold thy peace, and come out of him. 26. And when
the unclean spirit had torn him, and cried with a loud voice, he came
out of him. 27. And they were all amazed, insomuch that they
questioned among themselves, saying, What thing is this? what new
doctrine is this? for with authority commandeth He even the unclean
spirits, and they do obey Him. 28. And immediately His fame spread
abroad throughout all the region round about Galilee. 29. And
forthwith, when they were come out of the synagogue, they entered into
the house of Simon and Andrew, with James and John. 30. But Simon's
wife's mother lay sick of a fever, and anon they tell Him of her. 31.
And He came and took her by the hand, and lifted her up; and
immediately the fever left her, and she ministered unto them. 32. And
at even, when the sun did set, they brought unto Him all that were
diseased, and them that were possessed with devils. 33. And all the
city was gathered together at the door. 34. And He healed many that
were sick of divers diseases, and cast out many devils; and suffered
not the devils to speak, because they knew Him.'--Mark i. 21-34.
None of the incidents in this section are peculiar to Mark, but the
special stamp of his Gospel is on them all; and, both in the narration
of each and in the swift transition from one to another, the
impression of Christ's strength and unpausing diligence in filial
service is made. The short hours of that first Sabbath's ministry are
crowded with work; and Christ's energy bears Him through exhausting
physical labours, and enables Him to turn with unwearied sympathy and
marvellous celerity to each new form of misery, and to throw Himself
with freshness undiminished into the relief of each. The homely virtue
of diligence shines out in this lesson no less clearly than superhuman
strength that tames demons and heals all manner of sickness. There are
four pictures here, compressed and yet vivid. Mark can condense and
keep all the essentials, for his keen eye and sure hand go straight to
the heart of his incidents.
I. The strong Son of God teaching with authority. 'They enter; we see
the little group, consisting of Jesus and of the two pairs of
brothers, in whose hearts the mighty conviction of His Messiahship had
taken root. Simon and Andrew were at home in Capernaum; but we may,
perhaps, infer from the manner in which the sickness of Peter's wife's
mother is mentioned, that Peter had not been to his house till after
the synagogue service. At all events, these four were already detached
from ordinary life and bound to Him as disciples. We meet here with
our first instance of Mark's favourite 'straightway,' the recurrence
of which, in this chapter, so powerfully helps the impression of eager
and yet careful swiftness with which Christ ran His course,
'unhasting, unresting.' From the beginning Mark stamps his story with
the spirit of our Lord's own words, 'I must work the works of Him that
sent me, while it is day: the night cometh.' And yet there is no
hurry, but the calm, equable rapidity with which planets move. The
unostentatious manner of Christ's beginning is noteworthy. He seeks to
set Himself in the line of the ordinary teaching of the day. He knew
all the faults of the synagogue and the rabbis, and He had come to
revolutionise the very conception of religious teaching and worship;
but He prefers to intertwine the new with the old, and to make as
little disturbance as possible. It is easy to get the cheap praise of
'originality' by brushing aside existing methods. It is harder and
nobler to use whatever methods may be going, and to breathe new value
and life into them. Drowsy, hair-splitting disputations about nothings
and endless casuistry were the staple of the synagogue talk; but when
He opened His mouth there, the weary formalism went out of the
service, and men's hearts glowed again when they once more heard a
Voice that lived, speaking from a Soul that saw the invisible. Mark
has no mission to record many of our Lord's sayings. His Gospel deals
more with deeds. The sermon he does not give, but the hearer's comment
he does. Matthew has the same words at the close of the Sermon on the
Mount, from which it would seem that they were part of the oral
tradition which underlies the written Gospels; but Mark probably has
them in their right place. Very naturally, the first synagogue
discourse in Capernaum would surprise. Deeper impressions might be
made by its successors, but the first hearing of that voice would be
an experience that could never be repeated.
The feature of His teaching which astonished the villagers most was
its 'authority.' That fits in with the impression of strength which
Mark wishes to make. Another thing that struck them was its unlikeness
to the type of synagogue teaching to which they had been accustomed
all their lives. They had got so accustomed to the droning dreariness
and trivial subtleties of the rabbis, that it had never entered their
heads that there could be any other way of teaching religion than
boring men with interminable pedantries about trifles of ritual or
outward obedience. This new Teacher would startle all, as an eagle
suddenly appearing in a sanhedrim of owls. He would shock many; He
would fascinate a few. Nor was it only the dissimilarity of His
teaching, but also its authority, that was strange. The scribes spoke
with authority enough of a sort, lording it over the despised common
people--'men of the earth,' as they called them--and exacting
punctilious obedience and much obsequiousness; but authority over the
spirit they had none. They pretended to no power but as expositors of
a law; and they fortified themselves by citations of what this, that,
and the other rabbi had said, which was all their learning. Christ
quoted no one. He did not even say, 'Moses has said.' He did not even
preface His commands with a 'Thus saith the Lord.' He spoke of His own
authority: 'Verily, _I say_ unto you.' Other teachers explained the
law; He is a lawgiver. Others drew more or less pure waters from
cisterns; He is in Himself a well of water, from which all may draw.
To us, as to these rude villagers in the synagogue of the little
fishing-town, Christ's teaching is unique in this respect. He does not
argue; He affirms. He seeks no support from others' teachings; He
alone is sufficient for us. He not only speaks the truth, which needs
no other confirmation than His own lips, but He is the truth. We may
canvass other men's teachings, and distinguish their insight from
their errors; we have but to accept His. The world outgrows all
others; it can only grow up towards the fulness of His. Us and all the
ages He teaches with authority, and the guarantee for the truth of His
teaching is Himself. 'Verily, verily, I say unto you.' No other man
has a right to say that to me. But Christ dominates the race, and the
strong Son of God is the world's Teacher.
II. The strong conqueror of demons. Again we have 'straightway.' The
language seems to imply that this wretched sufferer burst hurriedly
into the synagogue and interrupted the utterance of astonishment by
giving it new food. Perhaps the double consciousness of the demoniac
may be recognised, the humanity being drawn to Jesus by some disturbed
longings, the demoniac consciousness, on the other hand, being
repelled. It is no part of my purpose to discuss demoniacal
possession. I content myself with remarking that I, for one, do not
see how Christ's credit as a divine Teacher is to be saved without
admitting its reality, nor how such phenomena as the demoniac's
knowledge of His nature are to be accounted for on the hypothesis of
disease or insanity. It is assuming rather too encyclopædiacal a
knowledge to allege the impossibility of such possession. There are
facts enough around us still, which would be at least as
satisfactorily accounted for by it as by natural causes; but as to the
incident before us, Mark puts it all into three sentences, each of
which is pregnant with suggestions. There is, first, the demoniac's
shriek of hatred and despair. Christ had said nothing. If, as we
suppose, the man had broken in on the worship, drawn to Jesus, he is
no sooner in His presence than the other power that darkly lodged in
him overpowers him, and pours out fierce passions from his reluctant
lips. There is dreadful meaning in the preposition here used, 'a man
_in_ an unclean spirit,' as if his human self was immersed in that
filthy flood. The words embody three thoughts--the fierce hatred,
which disowns all connection with Jesus; the wild terror, which asks
or affirms Christ's destructive might over all foul spirits (for the
'us' means not the man and the demon, but the demon and his fellows);
and the recognition of Christ's holiness, which lashes unholiness into
a paroxysm of mingled despair and hate. Does this sound like a madman,
or an epileptic, or like a spirit which knew more than men knew, and
trembled and hated more than they could do? There is nothing more
terrible than the picture, self-drawn in these spasmodic words, of a
spirit which, by its very foulness, is made shudderingly sensitive to
the disturbing presence of purity, and would fain have nothing to do
with Him whom it recognises for the Holy One of God, and therefore its
destroyer. Foul things that lurk under stones hurry out of the light
when you lift the covering. Spirits that love the darkness are hurt by
the light. It is possible to recognise Jesus for what He is, and to
hate Him all the more. What a miserable state that is, to hope that we
shall have nothing to do with Him! These wild utterances, seething
with evil passions and fierce detestation, do point to the possible
terminus for men. A black gulf opens in them, from which we are meant
to start back with the prayer, 'Preserve me from going down into that
pit!'
What a contrast to the tempest of the demoniac's wild and whirling
words is the calm speech of Christ! He knows His authority, and His
word is imperative, curt, and assured: 'Hold thy peace!' literally,
'Be muzzled,' as if the creature were a dangerous beast, whose raving
and snapping must be stopped. Jesus wishes no acknowledgments from
such lips. They who bear the vessels of the Lord must be clean. He had
taught with authority, and now He in like manner commands. His
teaching rested on His own assurance. His miracle is done by His own
power. That power is put forth by His simple word; that is to say, the
bare exercise or expression of His will is potent.
The third step in the narrative is the immediate obedience of the
demon. Reluctant but compelled, malicious to the last, doing the house
which he has to leave all the harm he can, and though no longer
venturing to speak, yet venting his rage and mortification, and
acknowledging his defeat by one parting howl, he comes out.
Again, we are bid to note the impression produced. The interrupted
buzz of talk begins once more, and is vividly reported by the
fragmentary sentences of verse 27, and by the remark that it was
'among themselves' that they compared notes. Two things startled the
people:--first, the 'new teaching'; and second, the authority over
demons, into which they naturally generalise the one instance. The
busy tongues were not silenced when they left the synagogue. Verse 28
shows what happened, in one direction, when the meeting broke up. With
another 'straightway,' Mark paints the swift flight of the rumour over
all the district, and somewhat overleaps the strict line of
chronology, to let us hear how far the echo of such a blow sounded.
This first miracle recorded by him is as a duel between Christ and the
'strong man armed,' who 'keeps his house.' The shield of the great
oppressor is first struck in challenge by the champion, and His first
essay at arms proves Him mightiest. Such a victory well heads the
chronicle.
III. The tenderness of the strong Son. We come back to the strict
order of succession with another 'straightway,' which opens a very
different scene. The Authorised Version gives three 'straightways' in
the three verses as to the cure of Peter's mother-in-law.
'Immediately' they go to the house; 'immediately' they tell Jesus of
her; 'immediately' the fever leaves her; and even if we omit the third
of these, as the Revised Version does, we cannot miss the rapid haste
of the narrative, which reflects the unwearied energy of the Master.
Peter and Andrew had apparently been ignorant of the sickness till
they reached the house, from which the inference is not that it was a
slight attack which had come on after they went to the synagogue, but
that the two disciples had so really left house and kindred, that
though in Capernaum, they had not gone home till they took Jesus there
for rest and quiet and food after the toil of the morning. The owners
would naturally first know of the sickness, which would interfere with
their hospitable purpose; and so Mark's account seems more near the
details than Matthew's, inasmuch as the former says that Jesus was
'told' of the sick woman, while Matthew's version is that He 'saw'
her. Luke says that they 'besought Him for her.' No doubt that was the
meaning of 'telling' Him; but Mark's representation brings out very
beautifully the confidence already beginning to spring in their hearts
that He needed but to know in order to heal, and the reverence which
hindered them from direct asking. The instinct of the devout heart is
to tell Christ all its troubles, great or small; and He does not need
beseeching before He answers. He did not need to be told either, but
He would not rob them or us of the solace of confiding all griefs to
Him.
Their confidence was not misplaced. No moment intervened unused
between the tidings and the cure. 'He came,' as if He had been in some
outer room, or not yet in the house, and now passed into the sick
chamber. Then comes one of Mark's minute and graphic details, in which
we may see the keen eye and faithful memory of Peter. He 'took her by
the hand, and lifted her up.' Mark is fond of telling of Christ's
taking by the hand; as, for instance, the little child whom He set in
the midst, the blind man whom He healed, the child with the dumb
spirit. His touch has power. His grasp means sympathy, tenderness,
identification of Himself with us, the communication of upholding,
restoring strength. It is a picture, in a small matter, of the very
heart of the gospel. 'He layeth not hold of angels, but He layeth hold
of the seed of Abraham.' It is a lesson for all who would help their
fellows, that they must not be too dainty to lay hold of the dirtiest
hand, both metaphorically and literally, if they want their sympathy
to be believed. His hand banishes not only the disease, but its
consequences. Immediate convalescence and restoration to strength
follow; and the strength is used, as it should be, in ministering to
the Healer who, notwithstanding His power, needed the humble
ministration and the poor fare of the fisherman's hut. What a lesson
for all Christian homes is here! Let Jesus know all that troubles
them, welcome Him as a guest, tell Him everything, and He will cure
all diseases and sorrows, or give the light of His presence to make
them endurable. Consecrate to Him the strength which He gives, and let
deliverances teach trust, and inflame grateful love, which delights in
serving Him who needs no service, but delights in all.
IV. The strong Son, unwearied by toil and sufficient for all the
needy. Each incident in this lesson has a note appended of the
impression it made. Verses 32-34 give the united result of all, on the
people of Capernaum. They wait till the Sabbath is past, and then,
without thought of His long day of work, crowd round the house with
their sick. The sinking sun brought no rest for Him, but the new calls
found Him neither exhausted nor unwilling. Capernaum was but a little
place, and the whole city might well be 'gathered together at the
door,' some sick, some bearing the sick, all curious and eager. There
was no depth in the excitement. There was earnestness enough, no
doubt, in the wish for healing, but there was no insight into His
message. Any travelling European with a medicine chest can get the
same kind of cortege round his tent. These people, who hung upon Him
thus, were those of whom He had afterwards to say that it would be
'more tolerable for Sodom, in the day of judgment, than for them.' But
though He knew the shallowness of the impression, He was not deaf to
the misery; and, with power which knew no weariness, and sympathy
which had no limit, and a reservoir of healing virtue which the day's
draughts had not emptied by a hairs-breadth, He healed them all.
Remarkable is the prohibition of the demons' speech, They knew Him,
while men were ignorant; for they had met Him before to-day. He would
have no witness from them; not merely, as has been said, because their
attestation would hinder, rather than further, His acceptance by the
people, nor because they may be supposed to have spoken in malice, but
because a divine decorum forbade that He should accept acknowledgments
from such tainted sources.
So ended this first of 'the days of the Son of Man,' which our
Evangelist records. It was a day of hard toil, of merciful and
manifold self-revelation. As teacher and doer, in the synagogue, and
in the home, and in the city; as Lord of the dark realms of evil and
of disease; as ready to hear hinted and dumb prayers, and able to
answer them all; as careless of His own ease, and ready to spend
Himself for others' help,--Jesus showed Himself, on that Sabbath day,
strong and tender, the Son of God and the servant of men.