Have you reflected what such an att.i.tude implies as to the self-consciousness of the Man who took it, and whether it is intelligible, not to say admirable, or rather whether it is not worthy of reprobation, except upon one hypothesis--"Thou art the everlasting Son of the Father," and all men honour G.o.d when they honour the Incarnate Word? But that is aside from my present purpose.
Is not this conception, that the motive of reverence and love to Him enn.o.bles and sanctifies every deed, the very fundamental principle of Christian morality? All things are sanctified when they are done for His sake. You plunge a poor pebble into a brook, and as the sunlit ripples pa.s.s over its surface, the hidden veins of delicate colour come out and glow, and the poor stone looks a jewel, and is magnified as well as glorified by being immersed in the stream. Plunge your work into Christ, and do it for Him, and the giver and the gift will be greatened and sanctified.
But, brethren, if we take this point of view, and look to the motive, and not to the manner or the issues, or the immediate objects, of our actions, as determining whether they are good or no, it will revolutionise a great many of our thoughts, and bring new ideas into much of our conventional language. "A good work" is not a piece of beneficence or benevolence, still less is it to be confined to those actions which conventional Christianity has chosen to dignify by the name. It is a designation that should not be clotted into certain specified corners of a life, but be extended over them all. The things which more specifically go under such a name, the kind of things that Judas wanted to have subst.i.tuted for the utterly useless, lavish expenditure by this heart that was burdened with the weight of its own blessedness, come, or do not come, under the designation, according as there is present in them, not only natural charity to the poor whom "ye have always with you," but the higher reference of them to Christ Himself. All these lower forms of beneficence are imperfect without that. And instead of, as we have been taught by authoritative voices of late years, the service of man being the true service of G.o.d, the relation of the two terms is precisely the opposite, and it is the service of G.o.d that will effloresce into all service of man. Judas did not do much for the poor, and a great many other people who are sarcastic upon the "folly," the "uncalculating impulses" of Christian love, with its "wasteful expenditure," and criticise us because we are spending time and energy and love upon objects which they think are moonshine and mist, do little more than he did, and what beneficence they do exercise has to be hallowed by this reference to Jesus before it can aspire to be beneficence indeed.
I sometimes wish that this generation of Christian people, amid its multifarious schemes of beneficence, with none of which would one interfere for a moment, would sometimes let itself go into manifestations of its love to Jesus Christ, which had no use at all except to relieve its own burdened heart. I am afraid that the lower motives, which are all right and legitimate when they are lower, are largely hustling the higher ones into the background, and that the river has got so many ponds to fill, and so many ca.n.a.ls to trickle through, and so many plantations to irrigate and make verdant, that there is a danger of its falling low at its fountain, and running shallow in its course. One sometimes would like to see more things done for Him that the world would call "utter folly," and "prodigal waste," and "absolutely useless." Jesus Christ has a great many strange things in His treasure-house--widows" mites, cups of water, Mary"s broken vase--has He anything of yours? "She hath wrought a good work on Me."
II. Now, there is another lesson that I would gather from our Lord"s apologising for Mary, and that is the measure and the manner of Christian service.
"She hath done what she could"; that is generally read as if it were an excuse. So it is, or at least it is a vindication of the manner and the direction of Mary"s expression of love and devotion. But whilst it is an apologia for the form, it is a high demand in regard to the measure.
"She hath done what she could." Christ would not have said that if she had taken a n.i.g.g.ardly spoonful out of the box of ointment, and dribbled that, in slow and half-grudging drops, on His head and feet.
It was because it _all_ went that it was to Him thus admirable. I think it is John Foster who says, "Power to its last particle is duty." The question is not how much have I done, or given, but could I have done or given more? We Protestants have indulgences of our own; the guinea or the hundred guineas that we give in a certain direction, we some of us seem to think, buy for us the right to do as we will with all the rest. But "she hath done what she could." It all went.
And that is the law for us Christian people, because the Christian life is to be ruled by the great law of self-sacrifice, as the only adequate expression of our recognition of, and our being affected by, the great Sacrifice that gave Himself for us.
"Give all thou canst! High Heaven rejects the lore Of nicely calculated less or more."
But whilst thus there is here a definite demand for the entire surrender of ourselves and our activities to Jesus Christ, there is also the wonderful vindication of the idiosyncrasy of the worker, and the special manner of her gift. It was not Mary"s _metier_ to serve at the table, nor to do any practical thing. She did not know what there was for her to do; but something she _must_ do. So she caught up her alabaster box, and without questioning herself about the act, let her heart have its way, and poured it out on Christ. It was the only thing she could do, and she did it. It was a very useless thing. It was an entirely unnecessary expenditure of the perfume. There might have been a great many practical purposes found for it, but it was her way.
Christ says to each of us, Be yourselves, take circ.u.mstances, capacities, opportunities, individual character, as laying down the lines along which yon have to travel. Do not imitate other people. Do not envy other people; be yourselves, and let your love take its natural expression, whatever folk round you may snarl and sneer and carp and criticise. "She hath done what she could," and so He accepts the gift.
Engineers tell us that the steam-engine is a very wasteful machine, because so little of the energy is brought into actual operation. I am afraid that there are a great many of us Christian people like that, getting so much capacity, and turning out so little work. And there are a great many more of us who simply pick up the kind of work that is popular round us, and never consult our own bent, nor follow this humbly and bravely, wherever it will take us. "She hath done what she could."
III. And now the last thought that I would gather from these words is as to the significance and the perpetuity of the work which Christ accepts.
"She hath come beforehand to anoint My body to the burying." I do not suppose that such a thought was in Mary"s mind when she s.n.a.t.c.hed up her box of ointment, and poured it out on Christ"s head. But it was a meaning that He, in His tender pity and wise love and foresight, put into it, pathetically indicating, too, how the near Cross was filling His thought, even whilst He sat at the humble rustic feast in Bethany village.
He puts meaning into the service of love which He accepts. Yes, He always does. For all the little bits of service that we can bring get worked up into the great whole, the issues of which lie far beyond anything that we conceive, "Thou sowest not that body that shall be, but bare grain ... and G.o.d giveth it a body as it hath pleased Him."
We cast the seed into the furrows. Who can tell what the harvest is going to be? We know nothing about the great issues that may suddenly, or gradually, burst from, or be evolved out of, the small deeds that we do. So, then, let us take care of the end, so to speak, which is under our control, and that is the motive. And Jesus Christ will take care of the other end that is beyond our control, and that is the issue. He will bring forth what seemeth to Him good, and we shall be as much astonished "when we get yonder" at what has come out of what we did here, as poor Mary, standing there behind Him, was when He translated her act into so much higher a meaning than she had seen in it.
"Lord! when saw we Thee hungry and fed Thee?" We do not know what we are doing. We are like the Hindoo weavers that are said to weave their finest webs in dark rooms; and when the shutters come down, and not till then, shall we find out the meanings of our service of love.
Christ makes the work perpetual as well as significant by declaring that "in the whole world this shall be preached for a memorial of her." Have not "the poor" got far more good out of Mary"s box of ointment than the three hundred pence that a few of them lost by it?
Has it not been an inspiration to the Church ever since? "The house was filled with the odour of the ointment." The fragrance was soon dissipated in the scentless air, but the deed smells sweet and blossoms for ever. It is perpetual in its record, perpetual in G.o.d"s remembrance, perpetual in its results to the doer, and in its results in the world, though these may be indistinguishable, just as the brook is lost in the river and the river in the sea.
But did you ever notice that the Evangelist who records the promise of perpetual remembrance of the act does not tell us who did it, and that the Evangelists who tell us who did it do not record the promise of perpetual remembrance? Never mind whether your deed is labelled with your address or not, G.o.d knows to whom it belongs, and that is enough.
As Paul says in one of his letters, "other my fellow-labourers also, whose names are in the Book of Life." Apparently he had forgotten the names, or perhaps did not think it needful to occupy s.p.a.ce in his letter with detailing them, and so makes that graceful, half-apologetic suggestion that they are inscribed on a more august page. The work and the worker are a.s.sociated in that Book, and that is enough.
Brethren, the question of Judas is far more fitting when asked of other people than of Christians. "To what purpose is this waste?" may well be said to those of you who are taking mind, and heart, and will, capacity, and energy, and all life, and using it for lower purposes than the service of G.o.d, and the manifestation of loving obedience to Jesus Christ. "Why do ye spend money for that which is not bread?" Is it not waste to buy disappointments at the price of a soul and of a life? Why do ye spend that money thus? "Whose image and superscription hath it?" Whose name is stamped upon our spirits? To whom should they be rendered? Better for us to ask ourselves the question to-day about all the G.o.dless parts of our lives, "To what purpose is this waste?"
than to have to ask it yonder! Everything but giving our whole selves to Jesus Christ is waste. It is not waste to lay ourselves and our possessions at His feet. "He that loveth his life shall lose it, and he that loseth his life for My sake, the same shall find it."
A SECRET RENDEZVOUS
"And the first day of unleavened bread, when they killed the pastorer, His disciples said unto Him, Where wilt Thou that we go and prepare that Thou mayest eat the pa.s.sover? 13. And He sendeth forth two of His disciples, and saith unto them, Go ye into the city, and there shall meet you a man bearing a pitcher of water: follow him. 14. And wheresoever he shall go in, say ye to the goodman of the house, The Master saith, Where is the guestchamber, where I shall eat the pa.s.sover with My disciples? 15. And he will show you a large upper room furnished and prepared: there make ready for us. 16. And His disciples went forth, and came into the city, and found as He had said unto them: and they made ready the pa.s.sover."--Mark xiv. 12-16.
This is one of the obscurer and less noticed incidents, but perhaps it contains more valuable teaching than appears at first sight.
The first question is--Miracle or Plan? Does the incident mean supernatural knowledge or a preconcerted token, like the provision of the a.s.s at the entry into Jerusalem? I think that there is nothing decisive either way in the narrative. Perhaps the balance of probability lies in favour of the latter theory. A difficulty in its way is that no communication seems to pa.s.s between the two disciples and the man by which he could know them to be the persons whom he was to precede to the house. There are advantages in either theory which the other loses; but, on the whole, I incline to believe in a preconcerted signal. If we lose the supernatural, we gain a suggestion of prudence and human adaptation of means to ends which makes the story even more startlingly real to us.
But whichever theory we adopt, the main points and lessons of the narrative remain the same.
I. The remarkable thing in the story is the picture it gives us of Christ as elaborately adopting precautions to conceal the place.
They are at Bethany. The disciples ask where the pa.s.sover is to be eaten. The easy answer would have been to tell the name of the man and his house. That is not given. The deliberate round-aboutness of the answer remains the same whether miracle or plan. The two go away, and the others know nothing of the place. Probably the messengers did not come back, but in the evening Jesus and the ten go straight to the house which only He knew.
All this secrecy is in strong contrast with His usual frank and open appearances.
What is the reason? To baffle the traitor by preventing him from acquiring previous knowledge of the place. He was watching for some quiet hour in Jerusalem to take Jesus. So Christ does not eat the pa.s.sover at the house of any well-known disciple who had a house in Jerusalem, but goes to some man unknown to the Apostolic circle, and takes steps to prevent the place being known beforehand.
All this looks like the ordinary precautions which a man who knew of the plots against him would take, and might mean simply a wish to save his life. But is that the whole explanation? _Why_ did He wish to baffle the traitor?
(a) Because of His desire to eat the pa.s.sover with the disciples. His loving sympathy.
(b) Because of His desire to found the new rite of His kingdom.
(c) Because of His desire to bring His death into immediate connection with the Paschal sacrifice. There was no reason of a selfish kind, no shrinking from death itself.
The fact that such precautions only meet us here, and that they stand in strongest contrast with the rest of His conduct, emphasises the purely voluntary nature of His death: how He _chose_ to be betrayed, taken, and to die. They suggest the same thought as do the staggering back of His would-be captors in Gethsemane, at His majestic word, "I am He.... Let these go their way." The narrative sets Him forth as the Lord of all circ.u.mstances, as free, and arranging all events.
Judas, the priests, Pilate, the soldiers, were swept by a power which they did not know to deeds which they did not understand. The Lord of all gives Himself up in royal freedom to the death to which nothing dragged Him but His own love.
Such seem to be the lessons of this narrative in so far as it bears on our Lord"s own thoughts and feelings.
II. We note also the authoritative claim which He makes.
One reading is "my guest-chamber," and that makes His claim even more emphatic; but apart from that, the language is strong in its expression of a right to this unknown man"s "upper room." Mark the singular blending here, as in all His earthly life, of poverty and dignity--the lowliness of being obliged to a man for a room; the royal style, "The Master saith."
So even now there is the blending of the wonderful fact that He puts Himself in the position of needing anything from us, with the absolute authority which He claims over us and ours.
III. The answer and blessedness of the unknown disciple.
(a) Jesus knows disciples whom the other disciples know not.
This man was one of the of "secret" disciples. There is no excuse for shrinking from confession of His name; but it is blessed to believe that His eye sees many a "hidden one." He recognises their faith, and gives them work to do. Add the striking thought that though this man"s name is unrecorded by the Evangelist, it is known to Christ, was written in His heart, and, to use the prophetic image, "was graven on the palms of His hands."
(b) The true blessedness is to be ready for whatever calls He may make on us. These may sometimes be sudden and unlooked for. But the preparation for obeying the most sudden or exacting summons of His is to have our hearts in fellowship with Him.
(c) The blessedness of His coming into our hearts, and accepting our service.
How honoured that man felt then! how much more so as years went on!
how most of all now!
Our greatest blessedness that He does come into the narrow room of our hearts: "If any man open the door, I will sup with him."