Bethany distinguished as the Residence of a pious Family, which
consisted of Lazarus and his two Sisters--their diversity of
Character--the Faults of Martha, domestic Vanity and fretfulness of
Temper--her counterbalancing Excellences--Mary's Choice and Christ's
Commendation--Decease of Lazarus--his Restoration to Life at the Voice
of Jesus--Remarks on Death being inflicted upon the People of God as
well as others--the Triumph which Christianity affords over this
terrible Evil--Account of Mary's anointing the Feet of Jesus, and his
Vindication of her Conduct.
Almost every spot in the vicinity of Jerusalem may be regarded as "holy
ground." The enraptured imagination cannot traverse this district without
recalling the many wonderful transactions that occurred there in different
periods of the Jewish history, but especially during the personal
residence of the Son of God upon the earth. Within the small circumference
of a few miles round the city, what a multitude of great events have taken
place! What miracles have been wrought! What mercies have been
distributed! What doctrines have been revealed! What characters have
appeared! What a development has been made of human nature! What a
surprising display of the perfections of the blessed God! What an
exhibition of the love of the incarnate Redeemer! Who, then, can think
without emotion, of Bethlehem--of Bethpage--of Bethany--of Mount
Olivet--of the brook Kedron--of Emmaus--and of Calvary?
Excepting only that mountain where Jesus "suffered, the just for the
unjust, that he might bring us to God," and where "once in the end of the
world" he "put away sin by the sacrifice of himself," the village of
Bethany may, perhaps, be considered as the most interesting point in this
all-attractive scene. It is situated at the foot of the Mount of Olives,
on the way to Jericho. To this neighborhood the Son of God frequently
retired for meditation and prayer; thence he began to ride in triumph to
Jerusalem; thither he repaired after eating the last supper with his
disciples, and there they witnessed his ascending glory and heard his last
benediction--for "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; and were continually in the
temple, praising and blessing God."
Bethany, however, claims our present attention chiefly as being the
residence of one of the "households of faith," with whom our Saviour was
particularly intimate, and with whose history some remarkable
circumstances are connected. It was a small but happy family, consisting
of only three members, Lazarus, Martha, and Mary. The two sisters, though
united by the ties of nature, and the still dearer bond of grace, were
distinguished by a considerable dissimilarity of character, which will
furnish us with some instruction. While charmed into an effort to imitate
remarkable persons by a description of their excellences, it is of great
importance to notice their defects, not only for the purpose of avoiding
them, but that we may not be overawed into despondency and paralyzed into
inaction by their superiority. Biography, to be useful, must be brought to
our level, capacities, and circumstances. We must see excellence that is
_attainable_, and view the same infirmities which are incident to our
nature, acting in our sphere, and struggling with perplexities,
resistance, vicissitude, and trial, similar to what we ourselves
experience. The appeal is powerful when we are called upon to be
"followers of them who," though circumstanced as we are, "through faith
and patience inherit the promises."
"Once they were mourners here below.
And wet their couch with tears;
They wrestled hard, as we do now,
With sins, and doubts, and fears."
A history of angels might, indeed, excite our admiration, but would
conduce less to our real improvement than a history of our
fellow-creatures. We wish to witness the actions, and to be admitted into
the secret feelings, of those who, whatever elevation they may have since
obtained, were once in the same probationary state with ourselves, and
subjected to the same course of moral discipline. In this view it is
desirable to be introduced into the privacies of domestic life. It is in
the family and at the fireside we all occupy some station, and have some
appropriate duties to discharge; and on this account the narrative before
us is pre-eminently attractive. We are led to the native village--the
chosen residence--the family--the fireside--the _home_--of Martha and
Mary. We see them in all the undisguised reality of private life, and
participate at once their pleasures and their pains. We join the social
circle. We hear the Saviour conversing with them. We see them in
affliction--the common lot, the patrimony to which are all born--and
while we participate their sorrows, learn to sustain and profit by
our own.
In vain, to the great purposes of spiritual improvement, do we read the
lives of statesmen, heroes princes, philosophers, poets, orators, and the
mighty dead that emblazon the historic page. They excite our
astonishment, and perhaps our pity, and some moral lessons may be gained
from their reverses or the varieties of their characters; but the most
useful history is the history of religion--religion in the village, and in
the family--religion as exhibited at Bethany, in the house of Martha
and Mary.
It is a pleasing peculiarity of this household, that they were _all_ the
devoted disciples of Jesus Christ. Lazarus appears to have been a solid,
established professor of religion, and of the two sisters it is recorded,
they "sat at Jesus's feet." We do not hear of another disciple in the
whole village, and all Judea could furnish but few, if any, similar
instances of three in a single dwelling; three solitary lights amidst
surrounding darkness; three flowers expanding to the newly risen Sun of
Righteousness, and blooming in a desolate wilderness. The dispensations of
providence and of grace are sometimes mysterious to the human eye, and we
feel disposed to inquire into the reasons why so few were touched by
divine influences, and bidden to follow Christ during his incarnation?
Could not that same commanding authority which drew twelve apostles and
seventy disciples into his train, and that same power which kindled the
lamp of truth in one village or city, and left another in moral darkness,
have filled Judea and the world with the glory of the Lord? Could not that
energy which pervades the universe, and imparts such inconceivable
fleetness to the morning beam when it irradiates the earth, have spread
the knowledge of salvation with equal rapidity, and multiplied the
disciples like the drops of dew?--Undoubtedly. No limits can be assigned
to divine efficiency; but in the present state no explanations are
afforded of the secret principles of his eternal government. Curiosity may
often be disposed to inquire, with one of the hearers of Christ, "Lord,
are there few that shall be saved?" But Scripture checks such
investigations, and admonishes us rather to cherish an availing solicitude
for our personal salvation: "Strive to enter in at the strait gate."
The state even of the civilized world at this day is truly deplorable.
Although whole nations profess the Christian faith, yet every city, every
village, and almost every hamlet, contains families in which there is not
a single disciple of Jesus. The sun rises and sets upon a prayerless roof.
No altar is erected to God--no love exists to the Saviour--nothing to
attract his attachment or to furnish a subject for angelic joy--no
repentance--no faith--and none of "the peace of God which passeth all
understanding." Whatever may be the temporal circumstances of such
families, Christian benevolence cannot avoid weeping over their spiritual
condition. In many cases, the society admitted into their houses is of a
most pernicious class. Uninfluenced by the sentiments of David, who said,
"I am a companion of all them that fear thee," the friendships they form
are but too plainly indicative of their own principles. You will not see
them, like Martha and Mary, choosing the excellent of the earth, and
welcoming Christ or his disciples to their tables, to share their
comforts, to refine and improve their intercourse; but if they occupy a
high station in life, the gay, the dissipated, or the thoughtless--if in
an inferior situation, the vulgar, the sordid, the intemperate, and the
profane, frequent their dwellings. Religion is in both cases too often
treated with ridicule and contempt, vilified as mean-spirited in its
principle, and enthusiastic in its pretensions; and the truth of the
Gospel treated, as its Author was when upon earth, and would be were he
still incarnate, with contemptuous rejection.
Some pleasing exceptions may be found to these observations. In many
families exist at least _one_ example of genuine piety--an Abijah in the
impious family of a Jeroboam. There is reason to congratulate young
persons especially who dare to be singular, to incur reproach, and to
dismiss prejudices. The conquest in such instances is proportionably
honorable as the propensity in human nature is powerful to follow a
multitude to do evil. Such holy daring possesses great attractions, and
the most beneficial consequences have been known to result. The child has
become instrumental to the conversion of the parent, the parent to that of
the child; the brother has proved a blessing to the sister, the wife to
her husband: "for what knowest thou, O wife, whether thou shall save thy
husband? or how knowest thou, O man, whether thou shall save thy wife?" In
other instances the sword of division is sharpened, and the discordances
already existing become more settled, more irreconcileable, and more
violent. The natural mind betrays its malignant animosity against the
spiritual principle, "and he that is born after the flesh persecutes him
that is born after the Spirit." But here the whole family was of "one
heart and of one soul." Religion was the law of the family, and the bond
of delightful union. They were possessed of one spirit; and, as Bishop
Hall observes, "jointly agreed to entertain Christ."
Can it be doubted, that the favored dwelling of Martha and Mary contained
a very large portion of domestic felicity--a felicity founded on the
noblest basis, cemented by the tenderest affection, and stamped with an
immortal character? The religion of Jesus is indeed calculated to diffuse
real happiness wherever it prevails; although, as we have intimated, it
may become the _occasion_ of discord in consequence of the perverseness
of human nature. Sin has disordered the mental and moral constitution of
man, and thrown the world into a state of anarchy. The unbridled dominion
of the passions disturbs the peace of the individual, and the harmony of
society. Sin makes a man at variance with himself, with his neighbors,
with his nearest connections, and with the whole constitution of the
universe. He becomes restless as the ocean, impelled by every contrary
wind, and tost about by every sportive billow. The desire of happiness
exists, but he is ignorant how to obtain it, and pursues those means which
only plunge him into greater misery. To this cause may be attributed all
the mental distresses and all the bodily afflictions of individuals--the
disturbances which too often prevent domestic enjoyment--the bickerings
and jealousies of families with their various alliances--the animosities
that annoy social life--the intestine broils, ambitious emulations, and
endless contentions, that distract a state, with every other form and mode
of evil. Hence the importance of promoting that kingdom which is
"righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost;" the basis of which
is the truth which Christ came into the world to propagate. It is this,
and this only, which renders mankind happy in every connection. It will
harmonize and felicitate to whatever extent it is diffused. It will allay
the discord of families, pacify the turbulence of nations, and silence the
din of war. There will be "great joy" in the heart, in the family, in the
city, and in the world. Under this influence "the wolf shall dwell with
the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid; and the calf, and
the young lion, and the fattling together, and a little child shall lead
them.... They shall not hurt nor destroy in all God's holy mountain."
One, however, as Martha and Mary were in principle, they differed in
character. When our Saviour first entered the house, it appears that they
both welcomed him, and listened for a time to his instructions. He was in
no haste for any refreshment, but eagerly improved every moment to benefit
his beloved friends. It was his meat and drink to do the Father's will,
and no kindness could afford him such satisfaction as a devout attention
to his words. It was, in fact, less to receive than to communicate that he
turned aside on his journey to visit these happy sisters. But if, at
first, they both attended to the "gracious words that proceeded out of his
mouth," Martha, anxious to furnish a suitable repast for their guest,
withdrew to make what she deemed the necessary preparations. Mary
continued riveted to the spot by a conversation which she could on no
terms relinquish. She would not lose a word. Every faculty was absorbed in
attention. Her eldest sister busied herself for sometime with her
preparations, till at length becoming impatient, she hastily demanded of
Jesus to send Mary to her assistance. This intrusion incurred the
memorable censure, "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."
The defective points of Martha's character seem to have been two. The
first of these was domestic vanity and parade. Upon the arrival of her
divine guest she is "cumbered about much serving," anxious not only to
show a becoming hospitality, but to provide a great entertainment. In this
she betrayed a false estimate of our Saviour's spirit. He who willingly
submitted to every deprivation during his earthly career--who suffered
hunger, and thirst, and peril, and wretchedness, in every form, although
he could have commanded ten legions of angels to guard his life, or to
supply his necessities, could not have felt a moment's anxiety respecting
the abundance or the quality of the provision. This worthy woman not only
knew that he could have turned every stone of the wilderness into bread,
had he wished to pamper his appetite by luxurious living, but she had
surely sufficient opportunities to perceive his disposition, and the
perfect exemption of his mind from any kind of concern about his own
accommodation. Her anxiety was therefore mistaken in its object, as well
as excessive in its degree. And while remarking upon this subject, O that
we could impress upon all the ministers of his word the necessity of
imitating the conduct of their Master! It becomes them, as his avowed
disciples, and as persons who are perpetually exhorting others to
self-denial and courteousness, to manifest no care about their own
convenience, to give as little trouble as possible to those who, for the
sake of their office and their Master, treat tthemwith kind hospitality,
and to receive even a cup of cold water in a spirit corresponding to that
in which humble piety bestows it.
While thus betraying a false estimate of Christ, Martha's principal fault
becomes glaringly conspicuous. She is full of bustle, full of eagerness.
Her servants were, probably, dispatched in every direction to prepare a
sumptuous meal. Every thing must be in order; every dish in place. The
food, the arrangement, the preparation of every description, she was
probably solicitous should do her credit, as well as display the undoubted
affection which she cherished for her Lord. Who can tell what she lost by
her excessive care! He, "in whom dwelt all the treasures of wisdom and
knowledge," was, during all this time, conversing with her sister; and
would have freely communicated the same instructions to her, had not she
precluded herself by needless anxieties.
But while we wonder at this voluntary sacrifice of spiritual advantages,
advantages too, which, generally speaking, she did not undervalue, let us
ask ourselves whether we have never merited a similar censure, whether we
have not been seduced by our worldly cares into a similar and culpable
remissness in religious duties? Happily, perhaps, like Martha, we love the
Saviour, we avow our attachment, we welcome him in the persons of his
representatives into our families; hut, at the same time, forfeit our
privileges, lose our opportunities, and suffer temporal concerns to
supersede the habitual impression of spiritual realities. Let pious women,
especially, take a lesson from this incident. Martha was by no means an
unique. She represents a very numerous class of female professors. Here is
a glass into which they may look and see a perfect reflection of
themselves; and we trust they will not retire from the salutary exhibition
of their own blemishes, _forgetting_ what manner of persons they are.
Domestic care, like every other, is liable to degenerate into excess.
There are many ladies whose piety excites universal admiration, but who,
from some constitutional proneness or some acquired habit, bestow a
disproportionate, and therefore, on many accounts, highly pernicious
concern upon their household arrangements. We are not the apologists of
uncleanliness or disorder; but it is possible to be over nice and over
anxious: by the former, we may injure the comfort of others, as well as
become burdensome even to ourselves; by the latter, we may soon interfere
with the superior claims of religion. The care of a family cannot
extenuate the guilt of neglecting private devotion or public duties; it
cannot exculpate a neglect of the word or the ordinances of God; and to be
"cumbered about much serving," is not only waste of time, but unfits the
mind for profitable intercourse, and is likely to produce an unhappy
effect upon the disposition.
This leads us to notice the second great defect in Martha, which the
present occasion tended to illustrate. This was fretfulness of temper. Her
language indicates extreme irritation. "Lord, dost thou not care that my
sister hath left me to serve alone? Bid her, therefore, that she help me."
It might be expected, that, overawed by the dignified and holy presence of
the Son of God, this woman would have felt ashamed to show her impatience,
and have been contented to remain silent. But nothing could restrain her.
Something went wrong. There was some mistake, some confusion, or perhaps
some dish out of order. She was bustling about to make preparations upon a
scale which no necessity existed to justify, and she wanted the assistance
of Mary. But Mary was bettor employed. She "sat at Jesus's feet, and heard
his word."
Let pious women beware of that anxiety which generates peevishness. It is
a greater fault than any which servants can commit by mere negligence, to
allow of those intemperate sallies against their misconduct, which, by
degrading their mistresses in their eyes, diminish the good effect a
genuine piety might otherwise produce. It is a weakness to be excessively
rigid about trifles--to be always contending, morose, and dissatisfied.
The particular sphere in which a woman is called to act, seems indeed
beset with temptations to this evil; but this consideration should serve
to awaken care and circumspection. Religion ought to be exemplified in
overcoming the difficulties of our situation, whatever they maybe; and
the more numerous they are, the more honourable the resistance. Private
life is a sphere of useful exertion. Though retired, it is important. If
it be not a field of valour, it is one for patience. If women cannot
obtain the laurels of heroism, they may win the better trophies of general
esteem and domestic attachment.
The animadversions we have thought proper to make upon the faults of
Martha, ought not however to obscure the view of her excellences. Jesus
Christ did not censure her concern, but the excess of it. It was the
unnecessary trouble she took, and as a consequence the extreme impatience
of temper she manifested, that produced this solemn remonstrance, and led
him to contrast her conduct with the silent piety of her sister. We must
still admire her generous hospitality, and her warm affection for Christ,
although her natural temperment and mistaken views betrayed her into an
improper mode of expressing it. She presents a lively contrast to those
who manifest no regard to religion or its ministers, and whose errors
originate not in mistake, but in cherished hostility and inveterate
prejudice. Her Master knew how to appreciate her character: and if he
censured her with a seriousness proportionable to her fault, the rebuke
was attempered with a kindness expressive of his friendship. The historian
distinctly records his personal affection for each member of this happy
family. "Now, Jesus loved Martha and her sister, and Lazarus." Let us
remember, then, that the real followers of Christ have their defects,
defects which perhaps appear the more conspicuous from their association
with such opposite excellences: and let us learn, like our divine Master,
to esteem even imperfect goodness, while we take every suitable
opportunity of affectionately, yet faithfully, correcting its follies.
Reader! pause for a few moments, to reflect upon the important apophthegm
pronounced by Christ upon this occasion, and the benediction upon Mary,
with which it was accompanied: "One thing is needful!" This was virtually
pronouncing religion, which involves a pre-eminent regard to the eternal
interests of the soul, to be supremely important--a principle of holiness,
a source of peace, and a pledge of immortal joy. It is, besides, of
universal concern, and comprehends whatever is essential to the present
and future felicity of a rational creature. "We should judge very ill of
the nature of this care, if we imagined that it consisted merely in acts
of devotion or religious contemplation; it comprehends all the lovely and
harmonious band of social and humane virtues. It requires a care, of
society, a care of our bodies and of our temporal concerns; but then all
is to be regulated, directed, and animated by proper regards to God,
Christ, and immortality. Our food and our rest, our trades and our labors,
are to be attended to; and all the offices of humanity performed in
obedience to the will of God, for the glory of Christ, and in a view to
the improving of the mind in a growing meetness for astate of complete
perfection. Name any thing which has no reference at all to this, and you
name a worthless trifle, however it may be gilded to allure the eye,
however it may be sweetened to gratify the taste. Name a thing, which,
instead of thus improving the soul, has a tendency to debase and pollute,
to enslave and endanger it, and you name what is most unprofitable and
mischievous, be the wages of iniquity ever so great; most foul and
deformed, be it in the eyes of men ever so honorable, or in their customs
ever so fashionable." [37]
How important is it, that we should make a similar choice with that of
Mary! This is obvious from the words of Christ, who represents it as "that
good part which shall not be taken away from her." Genuine piety is
calculated to prevent innumerable evils and sources of misery, by
preventing those indulgences which pollute while they gratify, poisoning
the constitution, impairing the reputation, and displeasing God: and by
elevating the affections to the purity of heaven. It augments incalculably
the pleasure which is derived from the possession of all other good of a
subordinate nature. While it possesses the power of extracting the
distasteful ingredients that imbitter the cup of adversity, it sweetens
the sweetest portion of prosperous life; and such is its prevailing
efficacy, that no changes can possibly deprive us of its consolations. It
shall "not be taken away." How strange, then, is the infatuation of such
as make a different choice, and how unfounded their seasons for such a
guilty preference! However their conduct may be artfully varnished over
with fair pretences, they betray consummate folly. The very foundation of
all their hopes will fail, the specious appearances of the world will
prove deceptive, like the rainbow that stretches its radiant curve over
half the heavens, but vanishes as you approach it into mist and
nothingness, and their condemnation will be no less remarkable than their
ultimate disappointment. O that, with Mary, we may sit at the feet of
Jesus, and by a prompt obedience to his comments "find rest to our souls."
Scarcely have we read of the privileges of the two sisters at Bethany,
when we are introduced to an account of their trials: so closely do
pleasures and pains follow each other in the train of human events! The
fairest fruit is often beset with thorns, the clearest day liable to be
overcast with clouds; and should the morning of life rise in brightness,
and the evening set in serenity, who can reasonably hope that no changes
shall occur in its intermediate hours? Religion indeed promises
consolation amidst afflictions, but not exemption from them: she is the
guardian of our spiritual interests, but not the disposer of our
terrestrial condition. How happily was the previous intercourse of Martha
and Mary with Jesus calculated to prepare them for their more gloomy
visiter, DEATH!
Lazarus, the brother of these excellent women, was taken ill, upon which
they immediately sent to inform their divine Friend of the distressing
circumstance. As soon as he heard it, he remarked to his disciples that
this event would prove the occasion of enhancing his own and his Father's
glory; but notwithstanding the ardent friendship which he cherished for
the family, and which the evangelist particularly notices, [38] he did not
hasten, as it seemed natural he should, to Bethany, but remained where he
was two days longer. It was his intention, doubtless, to prove the faith
of his disciples, to try the spirit of the two sisters, and to furnish an
opportunity of working the miracle with which he afterward astonished the
Jews. After this mysterious delay, he announced his purpose of proceeding
into Judea: upon which his disciples remonstrated with him, representing
the persecuting spirit of the people, which of late had been displayed in
attempts upon his life. To this he answered there were twelve hours in the
day, and consequently it was requisite to use despatch in the performance
of the labour assigned to him who would not stumble in the night, or leave
his work unfinished; and then intimating the departure of their friend
Lazarus, he said, "I go that I may awake him out of sleep." Mistaking his
meaning, and imagining that he had been speaking only of "taking rest," in
natural sleep, the disciples replied, that if this were the case, it was
probable he would soon recover, and therefore it was unnecessary to go to
Bethany. Jesus then said plainly, "Lazarus is _dead_." Seeing the
intrepidity of their Master, the disciples, stimulated by Thomas, resolved
to accompany him into Judea, and encounter every danger to which their
attachment might expose them.
When Jesus had arrived in the vicinity of Bethany, he found that his
beloved friend had been interred four days; and as this village was not
more than two miles from Jerusalem, many of the inhabitants who were
acquainted with the family, were come to condole with them upon their
loss. Martha hastened to meet Jesus, as soon as she heard of his approach;
but Mary, who perhaps was not yet informed of it, continued sitting upon
the ground, in the usual posture of mourners.
Having expressed her surprise at his delay, Martha intimated to Jesus that
she well knew that God would now grant every thing he might see fit to
request, and if he had been present before, the death of her brother might
have been prevented. Compassionating her distress, he replied, "Thy
brother shall rise again;" to which she answered, that she had the fullest
conviction of this fact, as she believed the doctrine of the final
resurrection. Her heart, however, was still overwhelmed with grief at her
present calamitous bereavement; and it was not without extreme reluctance,
that she admitted the idea of never seeing him more till that distant
period. Jesus then gave her the assurance of his being "the resurrection
and the life," and of the mighty power which he as the agent in
accomplishing this work, would display in elevating all his people to the
felicities of another and a better existence; in consequence of which
death ought not to be regarded with terror, but merely as the season of
repose previous to the morning of eternity, which would soon break with
ineffable splendour upon the tomb. Martha declared her full persuasion of
this sublime truth, founded upon her knowledge of him who addressed her as
the true Messiah, the Son of God, to whom all power in heaven and earth
was intrusted.
Upon this, she went by desire of Jesus to call her sister. As she had
communicated the information to Mary in a whisper, her friends who were
present supposed, when she rose up hastily, that she was going to visit
the sepulchre of Lazarus, there to renew her griefs and bewail her
bereavement. As soon as she found Jesus, she prostrated herself at his
feet, and expressed herself in terms similar to those of Martha,
indicative of a conviction that the death of her beloved relative might
have been prevented, if he had but hastened to Bethany upon the news of
his dangerous illness. This afflicting scene excited the deepest concern
in him, who, though he had every passion under the most perfect control,
now chose to indulge and to manifest his tenderness for Lazarus. He
inquired where they had laid him, and, as they conducted him to the spot,
he wept. Remembrance of the dead, sympathy for the living, and pity for
the impenitent Jews, drew forth his tears, which, while they sanction the
grief of his people at the loss of earthly connections, do not justify
its excess.
The spectators, in general, were affected with this testimony of
friendship: but some of them inquired among themselves, whether he who had
opened the eyes of the blind, could not have prevented the calamity which
he appeared so deeply to deplore. This was a very natural question; and he
was about to convince them that he _could_, by performing a miracle far
more splendid and important than such an interposition. The sepulchre of
Lazarus was a cave, with a large stone upon its mouth. Jesus commanded
them to remove this stone, not choosing to do it miraculously, in order to
avoid unnecessary parade. Martha, who seems to have been agitated by a
great conflict of feelings, very improperly exclaimed against this
proceeding; and alleged, that as he had been interred four days, the
corpse must have become offensive. Jesus with his characteristic
gentleness, reminded her that he knew well what he had ordered: and that
his previous assurance, that if she would only believe she should see the
glory of God, ought to have sealed her lips in silence.
The stone being removed according to the request of Jesus, he uttered a
short but expressive prayer to Heaven; and then with a loud voice, cried
out, "Lazarus, come forth." The realms of death heard his sovereign
mandate, and their gloomy monarch yielded up his captive; "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." The effect of this miracle was considerable; for many of the Jews,
who had come to sympathize with the bereaved sister, believed in Christ,
though others instantly repaired to the Pharisees, to inflame their
malignity by reciting what they had witnessed. With similar diversity of
effect, is the Gospel now proclaimed to men; its facts and evidences
kindling the resentment of some, or hardening them into increased
obduracy; while they convince the minds of others, interesting their best
affections, conquering their prejudices, and operating their salvation.
If there were any exception to that universal law which consigns man to
the grave, it might be hoped that such as compose the church of God, being
redeemed by the blood of his Son, called according to his purpose, and
sealed by his Spirit to the day of redemption, would be freed from this
calamity; but death extends his dreadful dominion over the families of the
righteous, as well as the impious. The people of God might, if he pleased,
have been delivered from the present curse: his goodness might have
indemnified them from the common evils which afflict human life, and
appointed them some favoured region, the Goshen of the universe, where
they should have passed their days in a state of rich possession and
unmolested tranquillity; but, if he have ordained otherwise, it is for
wise reasons; some of which, perhaps, we may succeed in explaining.
Is not such a dispensation, for instance, calculated to impress an awful
sense of the malignity of sin? So abominable is it, that the blessed God,
who has made an ample provision for the future, felicity of his saints,
and who is daily imparting to them on earth the invaluable blessings of
his grace, cannot, it seems, consistently with his perfection, exempt them
from the stroke of death. It is requisite that his detestation of it
should be evinced in a complete and undistinguishing overthrow of the race
of mortals, amongst whom even those whose names are written in the book of
life, on account of their nature being contaminated with depravity must
suffer the punishment of temporal death, and show to admiring immortals,
that God is "of purer eyes than to behold iniquity, and cannot look
upon sin."
Besides, this demolition of the corporeal frame is an essential means of
its purification. The leprosy has infected every part of the building, the
members of the body have become instrumental to the working of
unrighteousness; and, consequently, "the earthly house of this tabernacle
must be _dissolved_."
The infliction of this calamity upon believers in Christ as well as upon
others, is calculated also to maintain their faith in vigorous and
perpetual exercise. Were it permitted to them to pass into another world,
as Enoch or Elijah did, by a sudden transportation beyond the regions of
mortality to those of undecaying existence, without undergoing "the pains,
the groans, the dying strife," or without experiencing the frightful
alteration that occurs in other human beings, there would no longer exist
the same opportunity as at present for the display of one of the noblest
principles of a renewed mind. Who can contemplate the debased condition of
the body, who can realize the amazing change which "flesh and blood is
heir to"--the icy coldness, the stony insensibility, the universal
inanimation that pervades the whole frame, the putrefaction to which it is
subject, and the general loathsomeness of that which once appeared the
fairest structure amongst the works of God, without an instinctive
shuddering, and without perceiving that faith alone can give the victory
over death? There is nothing surely in the state of the body _after_ this
event to indicate a future existence, but rather every thing to perplex
such a sentiment, and to confound such an expectation. There is nothing
in its aspect which seems to foretel life--nothing to predict
resuscitation. In general, however desperate the case, hope is sustained
by the most trifling circumstances, the feeblest glimmerings of the yet
unextinguished lamp; if there be the gentlest breath, or the slightest
motion, the solicitude of wakeful tenderness is still maintained, and the
_possibility_ at least of a return to health is admitted as a welcome and
not irrational idea; but when the breath entirely fails, when motion is
paralyzed, when the lamp is extinct, whence can any thought of a revival
be obtained? What succeeds the fatal moment, but progressive decay? And
who can discover the least trace of an indication that the departed friend
will resume his life? Every hour seems to widen the breach, to increase
the distance that separates the dead from the living, and to complete the
triumph of our mortal foe. All the powers of nature in combination would
prove incompetent to produce life in the smallest particle--the most
insignificant atom of dust; and hope naturally expires when animation
ceases. When Christians, therefore, are required to part with their
companions, or to die themselves, their only confidence must be in God;
and whoever cannot receive _his_ word, and rely upon the assurances which
he has given with regard to the exercise of divine power in the recovery
of man from the grave, has no adequate consolation amidst the desolations
that await him.
Christians also must pass through the change of death, because the glory
of Jesus Christ in the resurrection could not otherwise be so
illustriously displayed. Never did the character of the Son of God appear
with more commanding majesty than when he recalled the spirit of Lazarus
from the invisible state, and at a word raised his body from the
sepulchre. "Lazarus," said he, "come forth:" the summons entered the ear
of death, and the "last enemy" felt himself "destroyed."
The scene is infinitely cheering. Though we "fade as a leaf," dropping one
by one into the tomb like the foliage of autumn; the eternal spring
advances, when "they that are in the grave shall hear his voice, and shall
come forth"--renewed in vigour, purified in character, perfected in
felicity--to return no more to this sublunary sphere, to descend no more
to the dust, to struggle no more with sin and sorrow, to be assaulted no
more with the "fiery darts of the devil."
Death is so truly alarming to human nature and to shortsighted reason, so
calculated by its external appearances to fill the mind with anxiety, that
in order to suppress our fears and cherish our hopes, it seemed requisite
to bring another existence into the nearest possible view, to render it in
a sense visible, and to embody immortality. In the resurrection of
Lazarus, as well as by other miraculous manifestations, this great purpose
was effected. We perceive incontestably that death is not annihilation,
and that the appearance which it assumes of an extinction of being is not
a reality. _That_ power which was exerted in one case, reason says _may_,
and revelation declares _shall_, be exerted in another; and that, by the
voice of Omnipotence, all the saints shall be raised at the last day from
the abodes of darkness and silence. It is here Christianity takes her
firmest stand--here she discloses her brightest scenes! Glorious
expectation of rising to eternal life, and through Jesus, "the first
begotten of the dead," becoming superior to our most formidable enemy!
What a train of happy beings will then be witnesses of his glory, trophies
of his power, and inhabitants of his kingdom! This will be the jubilee of
all ages, the anticipation of which is well calculated to suppress our
anxieties, and quicken us to every duty.
What mutual congratulations must have circulated through the family of
Lazarus, when he was restored to the affectionate embraces of his sisters!
What a renewal of love would take place on that happy day! How was their
sorrow turned into joy, and their lamentations info praises! What a
triumph of mind did they feel over the grave, and what expressions of
gratitude to their Deliverer burst from every heart! But who can imagine
the transports of that moment, when the same power that raised Lazarus
from the tomb, shall be exerted upon every believer in Jesus, who shall
"meet the Lord in the air," and be introduced to the eternal society of
kindred minds; when the redeemed world shall assemble on the celestial
shore, to recount their past labours and mercies, to renew their spiritual
fellowship, to hail each other's escape from the conflicts, the
temptations, and the diversified evils of mortal life, to behold the glory
of Him who has washed them in his blood and saved them by his grace, to
take possession of their destined thrones, and to mingle their strains of
acknowledgment with the holy by innings of the blest!
How _terrible_ then is death, but how _delightful_! Death is the _end_ of
life; death is the _beginning_ of existence! Death _closes_ our prospects,
and death _opens_ them! Death _debases_ our nature--death _purifies_ and
_exalts_ it! "Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end
be like his!"
Curiosity, ever disposed to pry into what the wisdom of God has not
thought proper to reveal, has frequently inquired into the history of
Lazarus after his resurrection. It has been asked, what were his feelings,
what the nature of his recollections, and what the topics of his
conversation? Did he communicate to his sisters any important intelligence
from the invisible state, or was he withheld by any divine interdiction
from explaining the secrets of his prison-house? Was it not to be
expected that some record of those transactions in which he afterward
engaged, or of the manner in which he was at last removed from the world,
should have been given in Scripture, or of the impressions of his mind
respecting the amazing changes which he had experienced?
The probability is, that Lazarus had no remembrance of the state into
which he had passed during the four days of his interment; and that, as it
could answer no good purpose to himself or others to perpetuate in this
world impressions suited only to the spirit in another condition of
existence, the images of those realities were obliterated from his mind,
like the visions of a dream that have for ever vanished away. It is
sufficient for _us_, as it was enough for _him_, to know that the doctrine
of the resurrection was exhibited to the Jews, with an evidence which, but
for the violence of their prejudices, must have proved to all, as it did
to many of them, irresistibly convincing.
Six days before the passover, Lazarus appears again upon the page of
Scripture history, at supper with Jesus at Bethany; but our attention is
less directed to him than to his sisters and their divine Guest. Martha,
as usual, was busied with domestic preparations; and Mary, with her
characteristic zeal and affection, "took 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."
The disciples were displeased at what they deemed this _waste_ of the
rich balsam, and murmured against her. One of them especially, Judas
Iscariot, exclaimed, "Why was not this ointment sold for three hundred
pence, and given to the poor?" [39] But this objection, so far from being
dictated by any kindness for the needy, arose entirely from his eagerness
to increase the store with which he was intrusted, and which he was
intending to appropriate to himself. Aware of this design, and
disapproving the uncharitable disposition manifested by his disciples,
Jesus reproved them; and expressed his satisfaction with Mary's conduct as
indicative of a regard for which she should hereafter be celebrated
throughout the world. He intimated that he should soon leave them, and
that this might be considered as an expression of fondness towards a
friend who might be almost viewed as already dead, and to whom she would
have few other opportunities of testifying her affection.
And shall not we be ready to consecrate our most valued possessions to the
service of such a Master? Shall we hesitate to devote to him whatever he
claims, or whatever we can bestow? Shall we feel a moment's reluctance to
aid his cause by the application of some considerable part of our
pecuniary resources to his church and people? He has bequeathed his poor
to our care, and it is a solemn charge; neglecting which we shall miss the
honor of his final benediction; but fulfilling it, we may indulge the
delightful hope that he will recompense even the most trifling attention,
and inscribe upon each future crown, in characters visible to the whole
intelligent universe, _he_ or "_she_ HATH DONE WHAT SHE COULD."
The Poor Widow.