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MEMORIES OF BETHANY.
By the
REV. JOHN R. MACDUFF, D.D.
Author of
"MORNING AND NIGHT WATCHES," "WORDS OF JESUS,"
"MIND OF JESUS," "FOOTSTEPS OF ST. PAUL,"
"FAMILY PRAYERS," "MEMORIES OF GENNESARET,"
"STORY OF BETHLEHEM," ETC.
NEW YORK:
ROBERT CARTER & BROTHERS,
No. 530 Broadway.
1861.
To
MOURNERS IN ZION,
with whom
BETHANY
has ever been a name consecrated to sorrow,
these
MEMORIES
ARE INSCRIBED.
PASSAGES REFERRING TO BETHANY IN THE SACRED NARRATIVE.
I.
Earliest Notice of Bethany.
LUKE X. 38-42.--"And He entered into a certain village: and a certain
woman named Martha received Him into her house. And she had a sister
called Mary, which also sat at Jesus' feet, and heard His word. But
Martha was cumbered about much serving, and came to Him, and said, Lord,
dost Thou not care that my sister hath left me to serve alone? bid her
therefore that she help me. And Jesus answered and said unto her,
Martha, Martha, thou art careful and troubled about many things: But one
thing is needful: and Mary hath chosen that good part, which shall not
be taken away from her."
II.
Bethany in connexion with the Sickness, Death, and Resurrection of
Lazarus.
JOHN XI. 1.--"Now a certain _man_ was sick, _named_ Lazarus, of BETHANY,
the town of Mary and her sister Martha. (It was _that_ Mary which
anointed the Lord with ointment, and wiped His feet with her hair, whose
brother Lazarus was sick.) Therefore his sisters sent unto Him, saying,
Lord, behold, he whom Thou lovest is sick. When Jesus heard _that_, He
said, This sickness is not unto death, but for the glory of God, that
the Son of God might be glorified thereby. Now Jesus loved Martha, and
her sister, and Lazarus. When He had heard therefore that he was sick,
He abode two days still in the same place where He was."
* * *
"And after that He saith unto them, Our friend Lazarus sleepeth; but I
go, that I may awake him out of sleep. Then said His disciples, Lord, if
he sleep, he shall do well. Howbeit Jesus spake of His death: but they
thought that He had spoken of taking of rest in sleep. Then said Jesus
unto them plainly, Lazarus is dead. And I am glad for your sakes that I
was not there, to the intent ye may believe; nevertheless, let us go
unto him."
* * *
"Then, when Jesus came, He found that he had _lain_ in the grave four
days already. (Now BETHANY was nigh unto Jerusalem, about fifteen
furlongs off.) And many of the Jews came to Martha and Mary, to comfort
them concerning their brother. Then Martha, as soon as she heard that
Jesus was coming, went and met Him: but Mary sat _still_ in the house.
Then said Martha unto Jesus, Lord, if Thou hadst been here, my brother
had not died. But I know, that even now, whatsoever thou wilt ask of
God, God will give _it_ Thee. Jesus saith unto her, Thy brother shall
rise again. Martha saith unto Him, I know that he shall rise again in
the resurrection at the last day. Jesus said unto her, I am the
resurrection, and the life: He that believeth in Me, though he were
dead, yet shall he live: And whosoever liveth, and believeth in Me,
shall never die. Believest thou this? She saith unto Him, Yea, Lord: I
believe that Thou art the Christ, the Son of God, which should come into
the world. And when she had so said, she went her way, and called Mary
her sister secretly, saying, The Master is come, and calleth for thee.
As soon as she heard _that_, she arose quickly, and came unto Him. Now
Jesus was not yet come into the town, but was in that place where Martha
met Him. The Jews then which were with her in the house, and comforted
her, when they saw Mary, that she rose up hastily and went out, followed
her, saying, She goeth unto the grave to weep there. Then when Mary was
come where Jesus was, and saw Him, she fell down at His feet, saying
unto Him, Lord, if Thou hadst been here, my brother had not died. When
Jesus therefore saw her weeping, and the Jews also weeping which came
with her, He groaned in the spirit, and was troubled, and said, Where
have ye laid him? They say unto Him, Lord, come and see. Jesus wept.
Then said the Jews, Behold how He loved him! And some of them said,
Could not this man, which opened the eyes of the blind, have caused that
even this man should not have died! Jesus therefore again groaning in
Himself, cometh to the grave. It was a cave, and a stone lay upon it.
Jesus said, Take ye away the stone. Martha, the sister of him that was
dead, saith unto Him, Lord, by this time he stinketh: for he hath been
_dead_ four days. Jesus saith unto her, Said I not unto thee, that, if
thou wouldest believe, thou shouldest see the glory of God? Then they
took away the stone _from the place_ where the dead was laid. And Jesus
lifted up His eyes, and said, Father, I thank thee that Thou hast heard
Me. And I knew that Thou hearest Me always: but because of the people
which stand by I said _it_, that they may believe that Thou hast sent
Me. And when He thus had spoken, he cried with a loud voice, Lazarus,
come forth. And he that was dead came forth, bound hand and foot with
grave-clothes; and his face was bound about with a napkin. Jesus saith
unto them, Loose him, and let him go."
III.
Notices of Bethany subsequent to the Raising of Lazarus.
JOHN XII. 1-8.--"Then Jesus, six days before the Passover, came to
BETHANY, where Lazarus was which had been dead, whom he raised from the
dead. There they made Him a supper; and Martha served: but Lazarus was
one of them that sat at the table with Him. Then took Mary a pound of
ointment of spikenard, very costly, and anointed the feet of Jesus, and
wiped His feet with her hair: and the house was filled with the odour of
the ointment. Then saith one of His disciples, Judas Iscariot, Simon's
_son_, which should betray Him, Why was not this ointment sold for three
hundred pence, and given to the poor? This he said, not that he cared
for the poor; but because he was a thief, and had the bag, and bare what
was put therein. Then said Jesus, Let her alone: against the day of My
burying hath she kept this. For the poor always ye have with you; but Me
ye have not always."
MATTHEW XXVI. 12-13.--"For in that she hath poured this ointment on my
body, she did _it_ for my burial. Verily I say unto you, Wheresoever
this gospel shall be preached in the whole world, _there_ shall also
this, that this woman hath done, be told for a memorial of her."
JOHN XII. 9.--"Much people of the Jews therefore knew that He was there:
and they came not for Jesus' sake only, but that they might see Lazarus
also, whom he had raised from the dead."
* * * * *
JOHN XII. 12-15.--"On the next day much people that were come to the
feast, when they heard that Jesus was coming to Jerusalem, took branches
of palm trees, and went forth to meet Him, and cried, Hosanna: Blessed
is the King of Israel that cometh in the name of the Lord. And Jesus,
when He had found a young ass, sat thereon; as it is written, Fear not,
daughter of Sion: behold, thy King cometh, sitting on an ass's colt."
MATTHEW XXI. 10-12.--"And when He was come into Jerusalem, all the city
was moved, saying, Who is this? And the multitude said, This is Jesus
the Prophet of Nazareth of Galilee. And Jesus went into the temple of
God, and cast out all them that sold and bought in the temple, and
overthrew the tables of the money-changers, and the seats of them that
sold doves."
MARK XI. 11-15.--"And Jesus entered into Jerusalem, and into the temple:
and when He had looked round about upon all things, and now the eventide
was come, he went out unto BETHANY, with the twelve. And on the morrow,
when they were come from Bethany, He was hungry: And seeing a fig-tree
afar off having leaves, He came, if haply he might find any thing
thereon: and when He came to it, He found nothing but leaves; for the
time of figs was not _yet_. And Jesus answered and said unto it, No man
eat fruit of thee hereafter for ever. And His disciples heard _it_. And
they come to Jerusalem: and Jesus went into the temple, and began to
cast out them that sold and bought in the temple, and overthrew the
tables of the money-changers, and the seats of them that sold doves."
Verse 19-20.--"And when even was come, He went out of the city. And in
the morning, as they passed by, they saw the fig-tree dried up from the
roots."
* * * * *
LUKE XXIV. 50-52--"And He led them out as far as to BETHANY; and He
lifted up His hands, and blessed them. And it came to pass, while He
blessed them, He was parted from them, and carried up into Heaven. And
they worshipped Him, and returned to Jerusalem with great joy."
ACTS I. 9-12.--"And when He had spoken these things, while they beheld,
He was taken up; and a cloud received Him out of their sight. And, while
they looked stedfastly toward Heaven as He went up, behold, two men
stood by them in white apparel; which also said, Ye men of Galilee, why
stand ye gazing up into Heaven? this same Jesus, which is taken up from
you into Heaven, shall so come in like manner as ye have seen Him go
into Heaven. Then returned they unto Jerusalem from the Mount called
Olivet, which is from Jerusalem a Sabbath-day's journey."
* * * * *
ZECHARIAH XIV. 4.--"And His feet shall stand in that day upon the Mount
of Olives, which _is_ before Jerusalem on the east, and the Mount of
Olives shall cleave in the midst thereof toward the east and toward the
west, _and there shall be_ a very great valley; and half of the mountain
shall remove toward the north, and half of it toward the south."
* * *
"And it shall be in that day, _that_ living waters shall go out from
Jerusalem; half of them toward the former sea, and half of them toward
the hinder sea: in summer and in winter shall it be. And the Lord shall
be King over all the earth: in that day shall there be one Lord, and his
name one."
* * *
"And it shall come to pass, _that_ every one that is left of all the
nations which came against Jerusalem shall even go up from year to year
to worship the King, the Lord of Hosts, and to keep the feast of
Tabernacles."
CONTENTS.
I. OPENING THOUGHTS 1
II. THE HOME SCENE 11
III. LESSONS 24
IV. THE MESSENGER 34
V. THE MESSAGE 42
VI. THE SLEEPER 53
VII. LIGHTS AND SHADOWS 67
VIII. THE MOURNER'S COMFORT 77
IX. THE MOURNER'S CREED 84
X. THE MASTER 92
XI. SECOND CAUSES 100
XII. THE WEEPING SAVIOUR 108
XIII. THE GRAVE-STONE 125
XIV. UNBELIEF 134
XV. THE DIVINE PLEADER 141
XVI. THE OMNIPOTENT SUMMONS 150
XVII. THE BOX OF OINTMENT 161
XVIII. PALM BRANCHES 178
XIX. THE FIG-TREE 191
XX. CLOSING HOURS 211
XXI. THE LAST VISIT 221
XXII. ANGELIC COMFORTERS 240
XXIII. THE DISCIPLES' RETURN 257
MEMORIES OF BETHANY
I.
OPENING THOUGHTS.
Places associated with great minds are always interesting. What a halo
of moral grandeur must ever be thrown around that spot which was
hallowed above all others by the Lord of glory as the scene of His most
cherished earthly friendship! However holy be the memories which
encircle other localities trodden by Him in the days of His
flesh,--Bethlehem, with its manger cradle, its mystic star, and
adoring cherubim--Nazareth, the nurturing home of His youthful
affections--Tiberias, whose shores so often echoed to His footfall, or
whose waters in stillness or in storm bore Him on their bosom--the
crested heights where He uttered His beatitudes--the midnight mountains
where He prayed--the garden where He suffered--the hill where He
died,--there is no one single resort in His divine pilgrimage on which
sanctified thought loves so fondly to dwell as on the home and village
of BETHANY.
Its hours of sacred converse have long ago fled. Its honoured family
have slumbered for ages in their tomb. Bethany's Lord has been for
centuries enthroned amid the glories of a brighter home. But though its
Memories are all that remain, the place is still fragrant with His
presence. The echoes of His voice--words of unearthly sweetness--still
linger around it; and have for eighteen hundred years served to cheer
and encourage many a fainting pilgrim in his upward ascent to the true
Bethany above!
There, the Redeemer of the world proclaimed a brief but impressive
Gospel. Heaven and earth seemed then to touch one another. We have the
tender tones of a _Man_ blended with the ineffable majesty of _God_.
Hopes "full of immortality" shine with their celestial rainbow-hues
amid a shower of holy tears. The cancelling from our Bibles of the 11th
chapter of St John would be like the blotting out of the brightest
planet from the spiritual firmament. Each of its magnificent utterances
has proved like a ministering-angel--a seraph-messenger bearing its
live-coal of comfort to the broken, bleeding heart from the holiest
altar which SYMPATHY (divine and human) ever upreared in a trial-world!
Many has been the weary footstep and tearful eye that has hastened in
thought to BETHANY--"gone to the grave of Lazarus, to weep there."
"The town of Mary and her sister Martha," then, furnishes us alike with
a garnered treasury of Christian solaces, and one of the very loveliest
of the Bible's domestic portraitures. If the story of Joseph and his
brethren is in the Old Testament invested with surpassing interest, here
is a Gospel home-scene in the New, of still deeper and tenderer
pathos--a picture in which the true Joseph appears as the central
figure, without any estrangements to mar its beauty. Often at other
times a drapery of woe hangs over the pathway of the Man of Sorrows.
But _Bethany_ is bathed in sunshine;--a sweet _oasis_ in his toil-worn
pilgrimage. At this quiet abode of congenial spirits he seems to have
had his main "sips at the fountain of human joy," and to have obtained a
temporary respite from unwearied labour and unmerited enmity. The "Lily
among thorns" raised His drooping head in this Eden home! Thither we can
follow Him from the courts of the Temple--the busy crowd--the lengthened
journey--the miracles of mercy--the hours of vain and ineffectual
pleading with obdurate hearts. We can picture Him as the inmate of a
peaceful family, spirit blending with spirit in sanctified communion. We
can mark the tenderness of His holy humanity. We can see how He loved,
and sympathised, and wept, and rejoiced!
As the tremendous events which signalised the close of His pilgrimage
drew on, still it is _Bethany_ with which they are mainly associated. It
was at _Bethany_ the fearful visions of His cross and passion cast their
shadow on his path! From its quiet palm-trees[1] He issued forth on His
last day's journey across Mount Olivet. It was with _Bethany_ in view
He ascended to heaven. Its soil was the last He trod--its homes were the
last on which his eye rested when the cloud received Him up into glory.
The beams of the Sun of Righteousness seemed as if they loved to linger
on this consecrated height.
We cannot doubt that many incidents regarding His oft sojournings there
are left unrecorded. We have more than once, indeed, merely the simple
announcement in the inspired narrative that He retired from Jerusalem
all night to the village where His friend Lazarus resided. We dare not
withdraw more of the veil than the Word of God permits. Let us be
grateful for what we have of the gracious unfoldings here vouchsafed of
His inner life--the comprehensive intermingling of doctrine,
consolation, comfort, and instruction in righteousness. His Bethany
sayings are for all time--they have "gone through all the earth"--His
Bethany words "to the end of the world!" Like its own alabaster box of
precious ointment, "wheresoever the Gospel is preached," there will
these be held in grateful memorial.
The traveller in Palestine is to this day shewn, in a sort of secluded
ravine on the eastern slope of the Mount of Olives (about fifteen
furlongs or two miles from Jerusalem), a cluster of poor cottages,
numbering little more than twenty families, with groups of palm-trees
surrounding them, interspersed here and there with the olive, the
almond, the pomegranate, and the fig.[2]
This ruined village bears the Arab name of El-Azirezeh--the Arabic form
of the name Lazarus--and at once identifies it with a spot so sacred and
interesting in Gospel story. It is described by the most recent and
discerning of Eastern writers as "a wild mountain hamlet, screened by an
intervening ridge from the view of the top of Olivet--perched on its
open plateau of rock--the last collection of human habitations before
the desert hills that reach to Jericho. ... High in the distance are the
Peraean mountains; the foreground is the deep descent of the mountain
valley."[3]
"The fields around," says another traveller, "lie uncultivated, and
covered with rank grass and wild flowers; but it is easy to imagine the
deep and still beauty of this spot when it was the home of Lazarus and
his sisters, Martha and Mary. Defended on the north and west by the
Mount of Olives, it enjoys a delightful exposure to the southern sun.
The grounds around are obviously of great fertility, though quite
neglected; and the prospect to the south-east commands a magnificent
view of the Dead Sea and the plains of Jordan."[4]
"On the horizon's verge,
The last faint tracing on the blue expanse,
Rise Moab's summits; and above the rest
One pinnacle, where, placed by Hand Divine,
Israel's great leader stood, allow'd to view,
And but to view, that long-expected land
He may not now enjoy. Below, dim gleams
The sea, untenanted by ought that lives,
And Jordan's waters thread the plain unseen.
* * * * *
Here, hid among her trees, a village clings--
Roof above roof uprising. White the walls,
And whiter still by contrast; and those roofs,
Broad sunny platforms, strew'd with ripening grain.
Some wandering olive or unsocial fig
Amid the broken rooks which bound the path
Snatches scant nurture from the creviced stone."[5]
Before closing these prefatory remarks, the question cannot fail to have
occurred to the most unobservant reader, why the history of the Family
of Bethany and the Resurrection of Lazarus, in themselves so replete
with interest and instruction--the latter, moreover, forming, as it did,
so notable a crisis in the Saviour's life--should have been recorded
only by the Evangelist John. Strange that the other inspired penmen
should have left altogether unchronicled this touching episode in sacred
writ. One or other of two reasons--or both combined--we may accept as
the most satisfactory explanation regarding what, after all, must remain
a difficulty. John alone of the Gospel writers narrates the transactions
which took place in _Judea_ in connexion with the Saviour's public
ministry,--the others restricted themselves mainly to the incidents and
events of His _Galilean_ life and journeys; at all events, till they
come to the closing scene of all.[6] There is another reason equally
probable:--A wise Christian prudence, and delicate consideration for the
feelings of the living, may have prevented the other Evangelists giving
publicity to facts connected with their Lord's greatest miracle; a
premature disclosure of which might have exposed Lazarus and his sisters
to the violence of the unscrupulous persecutors of the day. They would,
moreover, (as human feelings are the same in every age,) naturally
shrink from violating the peculiar sacredness of domestic grief by
publishing circumstantially its details while the mourners and the
mourned still lingered at their Bethany home. Well did they know that
that Holy Spirit at whose dictation they wrote, would not suffer "the
Church of the future" to be deprived of so precious a record of divine
love and power. Hence the sacred task of being the Biographer of Lazarus
was consigned to their aged survivor.
When the Apostle of Patmos wrote his Gospel, as is supposed in distant
Ephesus, Mary, Martha, and Lazarus were, in all likelihood, reposing in
their graves. Happily so, too, for ere this the Roman armies were
encamped almost within sight of their old dwelling, and the inhabitants
of Jerusalem undergoing their unparalleled sufferings.
Add to this, John, of all the Evangelists, was best qualified to do
justice to this matchless picture. Baptized himself with the spirit of
love, his inspired pencil could best portray the lights and shadows in
this lovely and loving household. Pre-eminently like his Lord, he could
best delineate the scene of all others where the tenderness of that
tender Saviour shone most conspicuous. He was the disciple who had leant
on His bosom--who had been admitted by Him to nearest and most confiding
fellowship. He would have the Church, to the latest period of time, to
enjoy the same. He interrupts, therefore, the course of his narrative
that he may lift the veil which enshrouds the private life of Jesus, and
exhibit Him in all ages in the endearing attitude and relation of a
_Human Friend_. Immanuel is transfigured on this Mount of Love before
His suffering and glory! The Bethany scene, with its tints of soft and
mellowed sunlight, forms a pleasing background to the sadder and more
awful events which crowd the Gospel's closing chapters.
II.
THE HOME SCENE.
The curtain rises on a quiet Judean village, the sanctuary of three holy
hearts. Each of the inmates have some strongly-marked traits of
individual character. These have been so often delicately and truthfully
drawn that it is the less necessary to dwell minutely upon them here.
There is abundant material in the narrative to discover to us, in the
sisters, two characters--both interesting in themselves, both beloved by
Jesus, both needful in the Church of God, but at the same time widely
different, preparing by a diverse education for heaven--requiring, as we
shall find, from Him who best knew their diversity, a separate and
peculiar treatment.
Martha, the elder (probably the eldest of the family), has been
accurately represented as the type of activity; bustling, energetic,
impulsive, well qualified to be the head of the household, and to
grapple with the stern realities and routine of actual life; quick in
apprehension, strong and vigorous in intellect, anxious to give a reason
for all she did, and requiring a reason for the conduct of others; a
useful if not a noble character, combining diligence in business with
fervency in spirit.
Mary, again, was the type of reflection; calm, meek, devotional,
contemplative, sensitive in feeling, ill suited to battle with the cares
and sorrows, the strifes and griefs of an engrossing and encumbering
world; one of those gentle flowers that pine and bend under the rough
blasts of life, easily battered down by hail and storm, but as ready to
raise its drooping leaves under heavenly influences. Her position was at
her Lord's feet, drinking in those living waters which came welling up
fresh from the great Fountain of life; asking no questions, declining
all arguments, gentle and submissive, a beautiful impersonation of the
childlike faith which "beareth all things, hopeth all things, believeth
all things." While her sister can so command her feelings as to be able
to rush forth to meet her Lord outside the village, calm and
self-possessed, to unbosom to Him all her hopes and fears, and even to
interrogate Him about death and the resurrection, Mary can only meet Him
buried in her all-absorbing grief. The crushed leaves of that flower of
paradise are bathed and saturated with dewy tears. She has not a word of
remonstrance. Jesus speaks to Martha--chides her--reasons with her; with
Mary, He knew that the heart was too full, the wound too deep, to bear
the probing of word or argument; He speaks, therefore, in the touching
pathos of her own silent grief. Her melting emotion has its response in
His own. In one word, Martha was one of those meteor spirits rushing to
and fro amid the ceaseless activities of life, softened and saddened,
but not prostrated and crushed by the sudden inroads of sorrow. Mary,
again, we think of as one of those angel forms which now and then seem
to walk the earth from the spirit-land; a quiet evening star, shedding
its mellowed radiance among deepening twilight shadows, as if her home
was in a brighter sphere, and her choice, as we know it was, "a better
part, that never could be taken from her."[7] Beautifully and delicately
has a Christian poet thus drawn her loving character:--
"Oh, blest beyond all daughters of the East!
What were the Orient thrones to that low seat,
Where thy hush'd spirit drew celestial birth!
Mary! meek listener at the Saviour's feet,
No feverish cares to that divine retreat
Thy woman's heart of silent worship brought,
But a fresh childhood, heavenly truth to meet
With love and wonder and submissive thought.
Oh! for the holy quiet of thy breast,
Midst the world's eager tones and footsteps flying,
Thou whose calm soul was like a well-spring, lying
So deep and still in its transparent rest,
That e'en when noontide burns upon the hills,
Some one bright solemn star all its lone mirror fills."
Of Lazarus, around whom the main interest of the narrative gathers, we
have fewer incidental touches to guide us in giving individuality to his
character. This, however, we may infer, from the poignant sorrow of the
twin hearts that were so unexpectedly broken, that he was a loved and
lamented only brother, a sacred prop around which their tenderest
affections were entwined. Included too, as he was, in the love which
the Divine Saviour bore to the household (for "Jesus loved Lazarus"), is
it presumptuous to imagine that his spirit had been cast into much the
same human mould as that of his beloved Lord, and that the friendship of
Jesus for him had been formed on the same principles on which
friendships are formed still--a similarity of disposition, some mental
and moral resemblances and idiosyncrasies? They were like-minded, so far
as a fallible nature and the nature of a stainless humanity _could_ be
assimilated. We can think of him as gentle, retiring, amiable,
forgiving, heavenly-minded; an imperfect and shadowy, it may be, but
still a faithful reflection and transcript of incarnate loveliness. May
we not venture to use regarding him his Lord's eulogy on another,
"Behold an Israelite indeed, in whom is no guile!"
Nor must we forget, in this rapid sketch, what a precious unfolding we
have in this home portraiture of the humanity of the Saviour! "_The Man_
Christ Jesus" stands in softened majesty and tenderness before our view.
He who had a heart capacious enough to take in all mankind, had yet His
likings (sinless partialities) for individuals and minds which were more
than others congenial and kindred with His own. As there are some heart
sanctuaries where we can more readily rush to bury the tale of our
sorrows or unburden our perplexities, so had He. "Jesus wept!"--this
speaks of Him as the human Sympathiser. "Jesus loved Lazarus"--this
speaks of Him as the human Friend! He had an ardent affection for all
His disciples, but even among _them_ there was an inner circle of holier
attachments--a Peter, and James, and John; and out of this sacred _trio_
again there was one pre-eminently "Beloved." So, amid the hallowed
haunts of Palestine, the homes of Judea, the cities of Galilee, there
was but _one_ Bethany. It is delightful thus to think of the heart of
Jesus in all but sin as purely _human_, identical and identified with
our own. He was no hermit-spirit dwelling in mysterious solitariness
apart from His fellows, but open to the charities of life;--in all His
refined and hallowed sensibilities "made like unto His brethren."
Friendship is itself a holy thing. The bright intelligences in the upper
sanctuary know it and experience it. They "cry one to another." Theirs
is no solitary strain--no isolated existence. Unlike the planets in the
material firmament, shining distant and apart, they are rather
clustering constellations, whose gravitation-law is unity and love, this
binding them to one another, and all to God. Nay--with reverence we say
it--may not the archetype of all friendship be found shadowed forth in
what is higher still, those mystic and ineffable communings subsisting
between Father, Son, and Holy Spirit in a past eternity? We can thus
regard the friendship of Jesus on earth--like all ennobled, purified
affections--as an emanation from the Divine; a sacred and holy rill,
flowing direct from the Fountain of infinite love. How our adorable Lord
in the days of His flesh fondly clung even to hearts that grew faithless
when fidelity was most needed! What was it but a noble and touching
tribute to the longings and susceptibilities of His holy soul for human
friendship, when, on entering the precincts of Gethsemane, He thus
sought to mitigate the untold sorrows of that awful hour--"Tarry _ye_
here and _watch_ with _Me_!"
But to return. Such was the home around which the memories of its
inmates and our own love to linger.
Mary, Martha, and Lazarus--all three partakers of the same grace,
fellow-pilgrims Zionward, and that journey sanctified and hallowed by a
sacred fellowship with the Lord of pilgrims. The Saviour's own precious
promise seems under that roof of lowly unobtrusive love to receive a
living fulfilment: "Where two or three are gathered together in my name,
there am I in the midst of them." Though many a gorgeous palace was at
that era adorning the earth, where was the spot, what the dwelling, half
so consecrated as this? Solomon had a thousand years before, two miles
distant, in presence of assembled Israel, uttered the exclamation, "But
will God in very deed dwell with men upon earth?" He was now verily
dwelling! Nor was it under any gorgeous canopy or august temple. He had
selected Three Human Souls as the shrines He most loved. He had sought
their holy, heavenly converse as the sweetest incense and costliest
sacrifice. How or where they first saw Jesus we cannot tell. They had
probably been among the number of those pious Jews who had prayerfully
waited for the "consolation of Israel," and who had lived to see their
fondest wishes and hopes realised. The Evangelist gives no information
regarding their previous history. The narrative all at once, with an
abruptness of surpassing beauty, leaves us in no doubt that the Divine
Redeemer had been for long a well-known guest in that sunlit home, and
that, when the calls and duties of His public ministry were suspended,
many an hour was spent in the enjoyment of its peaceful seclusion.
We can fancy, and no more, these oft happy meetings, when the Pilgrim
Saviour, weary and worn, was seen descending the rocky footpath of
Olivet,--Lazarus or his sisters, from the flat roof of their dwelling,
or under the spreading fig-tree, eager to catch the first glimpse of His
approach.
When seated in the house, we may picture their converse: Themes of
sublime and heavenly import, unchronicled by the inspired penmen, which
sunk deep into those listening spirits, and nerved two of them for an
after-hour of unexpected sorrow. If there be bliss in the interchange of
communion between Christian and Christian, what must it have been to
have had the presence and fellowship of the Lord Himself! Not seeing
Him, as _we_ see Him, "behind the lattice," but seated underneath His
shadow, drinking in the living tones of His living voice. These
"children of Zion" must, indeed, have been "joyful in their King."
One of these hallowed seasons is that referred to in the 10th of St
Luke, where Martha the ministering spirit, and Mary the lowly disciple,
are first introduced to our notice. That visit is conjectured to have
occurred when Jesus was returning to the country from the Feast of
Tabernacles. The Bethany circle dreamt not then of their impending
trial. But, foreseen as it was by Him who knows the end from the
beginning, may we not well believe one reason (the main reason) for His
going thither was to soothe them in the prospect of a saddened home? So
that, when the stroke _did_ descend, they might be cheered and consoled
with the remembrances of His visit, and of the gracious words which
proceeded out of His mouth.
And is not this still the way Jesus deals with His people? He visits
them often by some precious love-tokens--some special manifestations of
His grace and presence before the hour of trial. So that, when that hour
does come, they may not be altogether prostrated or overwhelmed with it.
Like Elijah of old, they have their miraculous food provided before they
encounter the sterile desert. When they come to speak of their crushed
hearts, they have solaces to tell of too. Their language is, "I will
sing of _mercy_ and _judgment_!"
* * * * *
We may be led to inquire why a character so lovely as that of Lazarus
was not enlisted along with the other disciples in the active service of
the Apostleship. Why should Peter and Andrew, John and James, be
summoned from their boats and nets on Gennesaret to follow Jesus, and
this other, imbued with the same spirit and honoured with the same
regard, be left alone and undisturbed in his village home?
"To every man there is a work." Some are more peculiarly called to
active duty, and better fitted for it; others for passive obedience and
suffering. Some are selected as bold standard-bearers of the cross,
others to give their testimony in the quiet seclusion of domestic life.
Some are specially gifted, as Paul, to appear in the halls of Nero or on
the heights of Mars' Hill, and, confronting face to face the world's
boasted wisdom, maintain intact the honour of their Lord. Others are
required to glorify Him on beds of sickness, or in homes of sorrow, or
in the holy consistent tenor of their everyday walk. Some are called as
Levites to temple service; others to give the uncostly cup of cold
water, or the widow's mite; others to manifest the meek, gentle,
unselfish, resigned, forgiving heart, when there is no cup or mite to
offer!
Believer! rejoice that your path is marked out for you. Your lot in
life, with all its "accidents," is your Lord's appointing. Dream not, in
your own short-sighted wisdom, that, had you occupied some other or more
prominent position--had your talents been greater, or your worldly
influence more extensive--you might have glorified your God in a way
which is at present denied to you. He can be served in the lowliest as
well as in the most exalted stations. As the tiniest leaf or smallest
star in the world of nature reflects His glory as well as the giant
mountain or blazing sun, so does He graciously own and recognise the
humblest effort of lowly love no less than the most lavish gifts which
splendid munificence and costly devotion can cast into His treasury. Let
it be your great aim and ambition to honour Him just in the position He
has seen meet to assign you. "Let every man," says the Apostle, "wherein
he is called, therein abide with God." However limited your sphere, you
may become a centre of holy influences to the little world around you.
Your heart may be an incense-altar of love and affection, kindness and
gentleness to man--your life a perpetual hymn of praise to your Father
in Heaven; glorifying Him, like Martha, by active service; like Mary, by
sitting at His feet; or, like Lazarus, by holy living and happy dying,
and leaving behind you "the Memory of the Just" which is "blessed."
III.
LESSONS.
As yet the home of Bethany is all happiness. The burial-ground has been
untraversed since, probably years before the dust of one, or perhaps
both parents had been committed to the sepulchre.[8] Death had long left
the inmates an unbroken circle. Can it be that the unwelcome intruder is
so nigh at hand?--that their now joyous dwelling is so soon to echo to
the wail of lamentation? We imagine it but lately visited by Jesus. In a
little while the arrow hath sped; the sacredness of a divine friendship
is no guarantee against the incursion of the sleepless foe of human
happiness. Bethany is a mourning household. The sisters are bowed in the
agony of their worst bereavement--the prop of their existence is laid
low--"_Lazarus is dead!_"
At the very threshold of this touching story, are we not called on to
pause, and read _the uncertainty of earth's best joys and purest
happiness_; that the brightest sunshine is often the precursor of a dark
cloud. When the gourd is all flourishing, a worm may unseen be preying
at its root! When the vessel is gliding joyously on the calm sea, the
treacherous rock may be at hand, and, in one brief hour, it has become a
shattered wreck!
It is the touching record of the inspired historian in narrating
Abraham's heaviest trial--"After _these things_, God did tempt Abraham."
After _what_ things? After a season of rich blessings, gilding a future
with bright hopes!
Would that, amidst our happy homes, and sunshine hours, and seasons of
holy and joyous intercourse between friend and friend, we would more
habitually bear in mind "This is not to last!" In one brief and
unsuspected moment Lazarus may be taken. The messenger may now be on the
wing to lay low some treasured object of earthly solicitude and love.
God would teach us--while we are glad of our gourds--not to be
"exceeding glad;" not to nestle here as if we were to "live alway," but
rather, as we are perched on our summer boughs, to be ready at His
bidding to soar away, and leave behind us what most we prize.
It tells us, too, _the utter mysteriousness of many of the divine
dispensations_.
"LAZARUS IS DEAD!" What! He, the head, and support, and stay of two
helpless females? The joy and solace of a common orphanhood,--a brother
evidently made and born for their adversities? What! Lazarus, whom Jesus
tenderly loved? How much, even to his Lord, will be buried in that early
grave! We may well expect, if there be one homestead in all Palestine
guarded by the overshadowing wings of angels to debar the entrance of
death, whose inmates may pillow their heads night after night in the
confident assurance of immunity from trial, it must surely be that loved
resort--that "Arbour in His Hill Difficulty," where the God-man
delighted oft to pause and refresh His wearied body and aching mind.
Will Omnipotence not have set its mark, as of old, on the door-posts and
lintels of that consecrated dwelling, so that the destroyer, in going
his rounds elsewhere, may pass by it unscathed? How, too, can the
infant Church spare him? The aged Simeon or Anna we dare not wish to
detain. Burdened with years and infirmities, after having got a glimpse
of their Lord and Saviour, let them depart in peace, and receive their
crowns. These decayed trees in the forest--those to whom old age on
earth is a burden--let them bow to the axe, and be transplanted to a
nobler clime. But one in the vigour of life--one so beautifully
combining natural amiability with Christian love--one who was
pre-eminently the _friend_ of Jesus, and that _word_ profoundly
suggestive of all that was lovely in a disciple's character. Death may
visit other homes in that sequestered village, and spread desolation in
other hearts, but surely the Church's Lord will not suffer one of its
pillars so prematurely to fall!
And yet it is even so! The mysterious summons has come!--the most
honoured home on earth has been rudely rifled!--the most loving of
hearts have been cruelly torn; and inscrutable is the dealing, for
"_Lazarus is dead_!"
"He, the young and strong, who cherish'd
Noble longings for the strife,
By the roadside fell, and perish'd
On the threshold march of life."
And worse, too, than all, "the Lord is absent." Why is Omniscience
tarrying elsewhere, when His presence and power are above all needed at
the house of His friend?
The disconsolate sisters, in wondering amazement, repeat over and over
again the exclamation, "If Jesus had been here, this our brother had not
died!" "Hath He forgotten to be gracious?" "Surely our way is hid from
the Lord, our judgment is passed over from our God."
Ah! the experience of His people is often still the same. What are many
of God's dispensations?--a baffling enigma--all strangeness--all mystery
to the eye of sense. _Useless_ lives prolonged, _useful_ ones taken! The
honoured minister of God struck down, the unfaithful watchman spared!
The philanthropic and benevolent have an arrest put on their manifold
deeds of kindness and generosity; the grasping, the avaricious, the
mean-souled--those who neither fear God nor do good to man, are suffered
to live on from day to day! What is it but the picture here presented
eighteen hundred years ago--_Judas_ spared to be a _traitor to his
Lord_, while--_Lazarus is dead_!
But let us be still! The Saviour, indeed, does not now lead us forth,
amid the scene of our trial, as He did the bereft sisters, to unravel
the mysteries of His providence, and to shew glory to God, redounding
from the darkest of His dispensations. To _us_ the grand sequel is
reserved for eternity. The grand development of the divine plan will not
be fully accomplished till _then_; faith must meanwhile rest satisfied
with what is baffling to sight and sense. This whole narrative is
designed to teach the lesson that there is an undeveloped future in all
God's dealings. There is an unseen "why and wherefore" which cannot be
answered here. Our befitting attitude and language _now_ is that of
simple confidingness--"Shall not the Judge of all the earth do
right?"--Listening to one of these Bethany sayings (we shall by and by
consider), whose meaning will be interpreted in a brighter world by Him
who uttered it in the days of His flesh--"Said I not unto thee, that if
thou wouldest _believe_ thou shouldest _see_ the glory of God?"
"O thou who mournest on thy way,
With longings for the close of day,
He walks with thee, that Angel kind,
And gently whispers--'Be resign'd;
Bear up--bear on--the end shall tell,
The dear Lord ordereth all things well.'"
Our duty, meanwhile, is that of children, simply to trust the
faithfulness of a God whose footsteps of love we often fail to trace.
All will be seen at last to have been not only _for_ the best, but
really _the best_. Dark clouds will be fringed with mercy. What we call
now "baffling dispensations," will be seen to be wondrous parts of a
great connected whole,--the wheel within wheel of that complex
machinery, by which "all things" (yes, ALL things) are now working
together for good.
"Lazarus is dead!" The choicest tree in the earthly Eden has succumbed
to the blast. The choicest cup has been dashed to the ground. Some great
lights in the moral firmament have been extinguished. But God can do
without human agency. His Church can be preserved, though no Moses be
spared to conduct Israel over Jordan, and no Lazarus to tell the story
of his Saviour's grace and love, when other disciples have forsaken Him
and fled.
We may be calling, in our blind unbelief, as we point to some ruined
fabric of earthly bliss--some tomb which has become the grave of our
fondest affections and dearest hopes--"Shall the dust praise thee, shall
_it_ declare thy truth?" _Believe! believe!_ God will not give us back
our dead as He did to the Bethany sisters; but He will not deprive us of
aught we have, or suffer one garnered treasure to be removed, except for
His own glory and our good. _Now_ it is our province to _believe_ it--in
_Heaven_ we shall _see_ it. Before the sapphire throne we shall _see_
that not one redundant thorn has been suffered to pierce our feet, or
one needless sorrow to visit our dwelling, or tear to dim our eye. Then
our acknowledgment will be, "We have _known_ and _believed_ the love
which God hath to us."
"Oh, weep not though the beautiful decay,
Thy heart must have its autumn--its pale skies
Leading mayhap to winter's cold dismay.
Yet doubt not. Beauty doth not pass away;
His form departs not, though his body dies.
Secure beneath the earth the snowdrop lies,
Waiting the spring's young resurrection-day."[9]
Be it ours to have Jesus _with_ us, and Jesus _for_ us, in all our
afflictions. If we wish to insure these mighty solaces, we must not
suffer the hour of sorrow and bereavement to overtake us with a Saviour
till _then_ a stranger and unknown. St Luke tells us the secret of
Mary's faith and composure at her loved one's grave:--_She had, long
before her day of trial, learned to sit at her Redeemer's feet. It was
when in health Jesus was first resorted to and loved_.
In prosperity may our homes and hearts be gladdened with His footstep;
and when prosperity is withdrawn, and is succeeded by the dark and
cloudy day, may we know, like Martha and Mary, where to rush in our
seasons of bitter sorrow; listening from His glorified lips on the
throne to those same exalted themes of consolation which, for eighteen
hundred years, have to myriad, myriad mourners been like oil thrown on
the troubled sea. Jesus is with us! The Master is come! His presence
will extract sorrow from the bitterest cup, and make, as He did at
Bethany, a very home of bereavement and a burial scene to be "hallowed
ground!"
IV.
THE MESSENGER.
Is the absent Saviour not to be sought? Martha and Mary knew the
direction He had taken. The last time He had visited their home was at
the Feast of Dedication, during the season of winter, when the
palm-trees were bared of their leaves, and the voice of the turtle was
silent. Jesus, on that occasion, had to escape the vengeance of the Jews
in Jerusalem by a temporary retirement to the place where John first
baptized, near Enon, on the wooded banks of the Jordan. It must have
been to Him a spot and season of calm and grateful repose; a pleasing
transition from the rude hatred and heartless formalism which met Him in
the degenerate "City of Solemnities." The savour of the Baptist's name
and spirit seemed to linger around this sequestered region. John had
evidently prepared, by his faithful ministry, the way for a mightier
Preacher, for we read, as the result of the Saviour's present sojourn,
that "many believed on him there."
If we visit with hallowed emotion the places where first we learned to
love the Lord, to two at least of those who accompanied the Redeemer,
the region He now traversed must have been full of fragrant memories;
_there_ it was that Jesus had been first pointed out to them as the
"Lamb of God;" _there_ they first "beheld His glory, the glory as of the
only-begotten of the Father, full of grace and of truth." (John i. 28.)
On His way thither, on the present occasion, He most probably passed
through Bethany, and apprised His friends of His temporary absence.
Lazarus was then in his wonted vigour--no shadow of death had yet passed
over his brow; he doubtless parted with the Lord he loved happy at the
thought of ere long meeting again.
But soon all is changed. The hand of sickness unexpectedly lays him low.
At first there is no cause for anxiety. But soon the herald-symptoms of
danger and death gather fast and thick around his pillow; "his beauty
consumes away like a moth." The terrible possibility for the first time
flashes across the minds of the sisters, of a desolate home, and of
themselves being the desolate survivors of a loved brother. The joyous
dream of restoration becomes fainter and fainter. Human remedies are
hopeless. There was _One_, and _only_ ONE, in the wide world who could
save from impending death. His word, they knew, could alone summon
lustre to that eye, and bloom to that wan and fading cheek. Fifty long
miles intervene between the great Physician and their cottage home. But
they cannot hesitate. Some kind and compassionate neighbour is soon
found ready to hasten along the Jericho road with the brief but urgent
message, "_Lord! behold he whom thou lovest is sick._" If it only reach
in time, they know that no more is needed. They even indulge the
expectation that their messenger may be anticipated by the Lord Himself
appearing. Others might doubt His omniscience, but they knew its
reality. They had the blessed conviction, that while they were seated in
burning tears by that couch of sickness, there was a sympathising Being
far away marking every heart-throb of His suffering friend. Even when
the stern human conviction of "no hope" was pressing upon them, "hoping
against hope," they must have felt confident that He would not suffer
His faithfulness now to fail. He had often proved Himself a Brother and
Friend in the hour of _joy_. _Could_ He fail--_can_ He fail to prove
Himself now a "Brother born for _adversity_?"