'And it came to pass, that He went through the cornfields on the
Sabbath day; and His disciples began, as they went, to pluck the ears
of corn. 24. And the Pharisees said unto Him, Behold, why do they on
the Sabbath day that which is not lawful? 25. And He said unto them,
Have ye never read what David did, when he had need, and was an
hungred, he, and they that were with him? 28. How he went into the
house of God in the days of Abiathar the high priest, and did eat the
shewbread, which is not lawful to eat but for the priests, and gave
also to them which were with him? 27. And He said unto them, The
Sabbath was made for man, and not man for the Sabbath: 28. Therefore
the Son of Man is Lord also of the Sabbath.'--Mark ii. 23-28.
'And He entered again into the synagogue; and there was a man there
which had a withered hand. 2. And they watched Him, whether He would
heal him on the Sabbath day; that they might accuse Him. 3. And He
saith unto the man which had the withered hand, Stand forth. 4. And He
saith unto them, Is it lawful to do good on the Sabbath days, or to do
evil? to save life, or to kill? But they held their peace. 5. And when
He had looked round about on them with anger, being grieved for the
hardness of their hearts, He saith unto the man, Stretch forth thine
hand. And he stretched it out: and his hand was restored whole as the
other.'--Mark iii. 1-5.
These two Sabbath scenes make a climax to the preceding paragraphs, in
which Jesus has asserted His right to brush aside Rabbinical
ordinances about eating with sinners and about fasting. Here He goes
much further, in claiming power over the divine ordinance of the
Sabbath. Formalists are moved to more holy horror by free handling of
forms than by heterodoxy as to principles. So we can understand how
the Pharisees' suspicions were exacerbated to murderous hate by these
two incidents. It is doubtful whether Mark puts them together because
they occurred together, or because they bear on the same subject. They
deal with the two classes of 'works' which later Christian theology
has recognised as legitimate exceptions to the law of the Sabbath
rest; namely, works of necessity and of mercy.
I. Whether we adopt the view that the disciples were clearing a path
through standing corn, or the simpler one, that they gathered the ears
of corn on the edge of a made path as they went, the point of the
Pharisees' objection was that they broke the Sabbath by plucking,
which was a kind of reaping. According to Luke, their breach of the
Rabbinical exposition of the law was an event more dreadful in the
eyes of these narrow pedants; for there was not only reaping, but the
analogue of winnowing and grinding, for the grains were rubbed in the
disciples' palms. What daring sin! What impious defiance of law! But
of what law? Not that of the Fourth Commandment, which simply forbade
'labour,' but that of the doctors' expositions of the commandment,
which expended miraculous ingenuity and hair-splitting on deciding
what was labour and what was not. The foundations of that astonishing
structure now found in the Talmud were, no doubt, laid before Christ.
This expansion of the prohibition, so as to take in such trifles as
plucking and rubbing a handful of heads of corn, has many parallels
there.
But it is noteworthy that our Lord does not avail Himself of the
distinction between God's commandment and men's exposition of it. He
does not embarrass himself with two controversies at once. At fit
times He disputed Rabbinical authority, and branded their casuistry as
binding grievous burdens on men; but here He allows their assumption
of the equal authority of their commentary and of the text to pass
unchallenged, and accepts the statement that His disciples had been
doing what was unlawful on the Sabbath, and vindicates their breach of
law.
Note that His answer deals first with an example of similar breach of
ceremonial law, and then rises to lay down a broad principle which
governed that precedent, vindicates the act of the disciples, and
draws for all ages a broad line of demarcation between the obligations
of ceremonial and of moral law. Clearly, His adducing David's act in
taking the shewbread implies that the disciples' reason for plucking
the ears of corn was not to clear a path but to satisfy hunger.
Probably, too, it suggests that He also was hungry, and partook of the
simple food.
Note, too, the tinge of irony in that 'Did ye _never_ read?' In all
your minute study of the letter of the Scripture, did you never take
heed to that page? The principle on which the priest at Nob let the
hungry fugitives devour the sacred bread, was the subordination of
ceremonial law to men's necessities. It was well to lay the loaves on
the table in the Presence, but it was better to take them and feed the
fainting servant of God and his followers with them. Out of the very
heart of the law which the Pharisees appealed to, in order to spin
restricting prohibitions, Jesus drew an example of freedom which ran
on all-fours with His disciples' case. The Pharisees had pored over
the Old Testament all their lives, but it would have been long before
they had found such a doctrine as this in it.
Jesus goes on to bring out the principle which shaped the instance he
gave. He does not state it in its widest form, but confines it to the
matter in hand--Sabbath obligations. Ceremonial law in all its parts
is established as a means to an end--the highest good of men.
Therefore, the end is more important than the means; and, in any case
of apparent collision, the means must give way that the end may be
secured. External observances are not of permanent, unalterable
obligation. They stand on a different footing from primal moral
duties, which remain equally imperative whether doing them leads to
physical good or evil. David and his men were bound to keep these,
whether they starved or not; but they were not bound to leave the shew
bread lying in the shrine, and starve.
Man is made for the moral law. It is supreme, and he is under it,
whether obedience leads to death or not. But all ceremonial
regulations are merely established to help men to reach the true end
of their being, and may be suspended or modified by his necessities.
The Sabbath comes under the class of such ceremonial regulations, and
may therefore be elastic when the pressure of necessity is brought to
bear.
But note that our Lord, even while thus defining the limits of the
obligation, asserts its universality. 'The Sabbath was made for
man'--not for a nation or an age, but for all time and for the whole
race. Those who would sweep away the observance of the weekly day of
rest are fond of quoting this text; but they give little heed to its
first clause, and do not note that their favourite passage upsets
their main contention, and establishes the law of the Sabbath as a
possession for the world for ever. It is not a burden, but a
privilege, made and meant for man's highest good.
Christ's conclusion that He is 'Lord even of the Sabbath' is based
upon the consideration of the true design of the day. If it is once
understood that it is appointed, not as an inflexible duty, like the
obligation of truth or purity, but as a means to man's good, physical
and spiritual, then He who has in charge all man's higher interests,
and who is the perfect realisation of the ideal of manhood, has full
authority to modify and suspend the ceremonial observance if in His
unerring judgment the suspension is desirable.
This is not an abrogation of the Sabbath, but, on the contrary, a
confirmation of the universal and merciful appointment. It does not
give permission to keep or neglect it, according to whim or for the
sake of amusement, but it does draw, strong and clear, the distinction
between a positive rite which may be modified, and an unchangeable
precept of the moral law which it is better for a man to die than to
neglect or transgress.
The second Sabbath scene deals with the same question from another
point of view. Works of necessity warranted the supercession of
Sabbath law; works of beneficence are no breaches of it. There are
circumstances in which it is right to do what is not 'lawful' on the
Sabbath, for such works as healing the man with a withered hand are
always 'lawful.'
We note the cruel indifference to the sufferer's woe which so
characteristically accompanies a religion which is mainly a matter of
outside observances. What cared the Pharisees whether the poor cripple
was healed or no? They wanted him cured only that they might have a
charge against Jesus. Note, too, the strange condition of mind, which
recognised Christ's miraculous power, and yet considered Him an
impious sinner.
Observe our Lord's purpose to make the miracle most conspicuous. He
bids the man stand out in the midst, before all the cold eyes of
malicious Pharisees and gaping spectators. A secret espionage was
going on in the synagogue. He sees it all, and drags it into full
light by setting the man forth and by His sudden, sharp thrust of a
question. He takes the first word this time, and puts the stealthy
spies on the defensive. His interrogation may possibly be regarded as
having a bearing on their conduct, for there was murder in their
hearts (verse 6). There they sat with solemn faces, posing as
sticklers for law and religion, and all the while they were seeking
grounds for killing Him. Was that Sabbath work? Whether would He, if
He cured the shrunken arm, or they, if they gathered accusations with
the intention of compassing His death, be the Sabbath-breakers?
It was a sharp, swift cut through their cloak of sanctity; but it has
a wider scope than that. The question rests on the principle that good
omitted is equivalent to evil committed. If we can save, and do not,
the responsibility of loss lies on us. If we can rescue, and let die,
our brother's blood reddens our hands. Good undone is not merely
negative. It is positive evil done. If from regard to the Sabbath we
refrained from doing some kindly deed alleviating a brother's sorrow,
we should not be inactive, but should have done something by our very
not doing, and what we should do would be evil. It is a pregnant
saying which has many solemn applications.
No wonder that they 'held their peace.' Unless they had been prepared
to abandon their position, there was nothing to be said. That silence
indicated conviction and obstinate pride and rooted hatred which would
not be convinced, conciliated, or softened. Therefore Jesus looked on
them with that penetrating, yearning gaze, which left ineffaceable
remembrances on the beholders, as the frequent mention of it
indicates.
The emotions in Christ's heart as He looked on the dogged, lowering
faces are expressed in a remarkable phrase, which is probably best
taken as meaning that grief mingled with His anger. A wondrous glimpse
into that tender heart, which in all its tenderness is capable of
righteous indignation, and in all its indignation does not set aside
its tenderness!
Mark that not even the most rigid prohibitions were broken by the
process of cure. It was no breach of the fantastic restrictions which
had been engrafted on the commandment, that Jesus should bid the man
put out his hand. Nobody could find fault with a man for doing that.
These two things, a word and a movement of muscles, were all. So He
did 'heal on the Sabbath,' and yet did nothing that could be laid hold
of.
But let us not miss the parable of the restoration of the maimed and
shrunken powers of the soul, which the manner of the miracle gives.
Whatever we try to do because Jesus bids us, He will give us strength
to do, however impossible to our unaided powers it is. In the act of
stretching out the hand, ability to stretch it forth is bestowed,
power returns to atrophied muscles, stiffened joints are suppled, the
blood runs in full measure through the veins. So it is ever. Power to
obey attends on the desire and effort to obey.