The Banquet-Hall

Jesus was surrounded by a crowd of people, when two disciples of John the Baptist arrived with a message from their master: “Art thou he that should come? or look we for another?” The motive of that message we need not now discuss. The Saviour did not instantly reply. He first preached the gospel, and He cured many of their diseases, and then He added, “Tell John what things ye have seen and heard; how that the blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, to the poor the gospel is preached: and blessed is he, whosoever shall not be offended in me.” That is, Messiah is come, for the prophecies concerning Him are fulfilled.* Messiah is come, for “the lame man leaps as an hart, and the tongue of the dumb sings.” Messiah is come, for instead of the old monopoly by which the rich and the reputable restricted salvation to themselves, the kingdom of heaven throws open its gates to the outcast and

Isaiah lxi., 1-3; xxxv., 5, 6.

ignorant, — to those whom the priesthood despises because they have nothing to pay, to those whom the learned despise because they know not the law, — nay, to those who are in their own eyes small and despised, for as regards all moral worth they know that they are bankrupts and pauper.’?. To the poor the gospel is preached.

John’s messengers departed, and when they were gone, ‘still dwelling on this merciful aspect of His mission, Jesus rejoiced in spirit, and spoke aloud the thought which had lighted up his countenance: “I thank thee, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes.” And then, addressing the audience, He added, u All things are delivered unto me of my Father: and no man knoweth the Son but the Father, and he to whomsoever the Son will reveal him. Come unto me, all ye that labour, and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” That is, ‘I am the Father’s plenipotentiary. I know His very mind, and I am invested with all His authority. Churchmen can prescribe penances, but I can give pardon. Scribes can lay on heavy burdens, and bid you labour for eternal life, but I can give you rest. Your own hearts can teach you that sin has made you outlaws from God, but I can make you again His children and friends. Become you my disciples.’ “Take my yoke upon you and learn of mo; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

Of the crowd then gathered round the Saviour, two members now become prominent. One of them was a gentleman, respectable and religiously inclined. Like Nicodemus, he was not quite a convert to the new Teacher’s doctrine; and yet he was impressed by His elevation and earnestness. His miracles were amazing. He had just restored to life Simon’s young neighbour, the son of the widow at Nain, and that very morning He had by His astonishing cures conferred unspeakable obligations on the district of which Simon was a principal inhabitant. Perhaps, too, the day might come when Jesus should be more distinguished; and if He really rose to be king of Israel — if He should actually turn out the successor of David and Solomon — it would always be something to recall, u Oh yes! He was once in this house, and dined at this very table.” But Jesus was still despised by Simon’s own class. None of the rulers believed on Him. I lis attendants were fishermen, and all Hi3 antecedents were obscure, — Bethlehem, Nazareth, the carpenter’s cottage, — and in his lowly guise Simon received him patronisingly. Had He been a man of his own rank, or one whom he delighted to honour, he would have met Him in the door-way with a cordial embrace, and conducting Him into the banquet-room, the attendants would have taken off His sandals, and would have laved His feet and hands with fragrant waters, whilst the host himself would have poured upon His locks the shining oil. But Simon was a Pharisee — accustomed to judge after the outward appearance — and to his view Jesus was quite as much the poor man as the good man. He felt that it was condescension to receive such a visitor and by the compromising way in which he managed the matter, he shewed quite as much anxiety for his own reputation, as gratitude or reverence towards his guest.

Simon was blind to the real character of Jesus: for he was blind to his own condition. Regular in his formal devotions, correct in his conduct, — always sitting down to his meals with washen hands, and thanking God that he was not as other men, “extortioners, unjust, or even as this publican,” to him a revelation of mercy was as superfluous and irrelevant as a pardon would seem useless to a favourite basking in the smiles of his sovereign. Not being “poor,” the gospel was preached to him in vain; and when the great Teacher expanded His arms, and said, “Come to me all ye that are heavy laden: take my yoke upon you, and learn of me” — it never occurred to him to step forward and say, “Yes, blessed Teacher! lay that yoke on me. Thou only knowest the Father: reveal Him to me. Kid me of my heavy load, and make me Thy disciple:” for to Simon sin was no sensible burden, and there was little which any teacher could tell which he did not think that he knew already; and for the lowly, loving, son-like piety of Jesus, Simon’s proud and self-sufficient spirit had no affinity.

So, dear reader, is there in your own mind none of this arrogant self-complacency? Looking at the sinful multitude, are you not apt to say, “God, I thank thee that I am not as other men?” And are you not apt to patronise the Saviour? You give Him a civil invitation to come under your roof. You have prayers with the family. You say grace before meat. You go as far as you can go genteelly. And yet were the Saviour accepting your somewhat stiff request: were He coming under your roof in answer to your prayer, might it not be said that He had gone into the house of a second Simon? Just look at this banquet board. See what a contrast! Jesus and a Pharisee! “On the one side the living spirit: on the other the letter that killcth. On the one side simplicity and godly sincerity: on the other outward appearance. On the one side the self-forgetfulness which seeks God’s glory: on the other the pride which seeks its own honour. On the one side the tender compassion which saves the lost: on the other the unaympathising selfishness which despises them.”* “Het Evangelie,” by Doede*.

But, as was already hinted, in the crowd which had been listening to Jesus in the open air, there appears to have been another individual note-worthy. She was a poor outcast, and as she stood hidden in the throng, she felt herself the vilest there. Her sins were crimson, and in comparison with herself she envied as a holy man the hardest worldling in all the company. But as she looked on the Divine Speaker, and listened to His heavenly words, there began to spring up strange sensations in her soul. It seemed as if there were passing over her spirit a fresh, pure gale from the days of her childhood, and as if she were inhaling the bliss of innocence again: and just as her past life grew loathsome, — just as in the contact of a goodness so new and so inspiring, she almost felt as if sin could never be pleasant any more, — those kind and cheering words of Jesus fell upon her ear, — “Come unto me all ye that are heavy laden,” — and they nearly broke her heart. Was it so indeed? Might she really hope for mercy? Was that the Son of God declaring the Father’s mind concerning sinners? — and was He really so “meek and lowly” as to say to such as her, “Take my yoke upon you?” Oh! if she might only hope it: — if that sinless One would only teach her how to be rid of sin: — if He would only help her to throw off that heavy load, a long memory of crime, — her own debased and ruined self! Surely He was kind enough to do it, — and the Father’s mighty Son was able. But with these charming words the address was ended; the congregation dispersed; and along with a few others the Divine Speaker entered the house of Simon. Wistfully did the poor outcast look after them: for in that Holy One were centered all her hopes: from Himself, if from any in the universe, must come her salvation. But at that moment she might not follow Him. Yes, — He had spoken kindly to sinners in the mass; and she believed He would speak as kindly to the chief of sinners if she appeared alone: but she would like to hear it from His own lips — at least she would like to listen to that wonder-working voice again. So she hasted away, and got the most precious thing she possessed, — a box of costly essence, — and availing herself of that right of free entrance which still prevails in these regions, she found her way into Simon’s banquet-hall. Stealing up to the spot where the Saviour reclined, she stood behind the guests, and the couch on which Jesus lay. The exact thought that arose in her mind, we cannot tell; but likely it was just the contrast between them: — ‘Here am I so vile — and Thou so holy. All pollution I, and Thou all sanctity. A hell-brand I, enkindled from the infernal fire and destroying all I touch: pure goodness Thou, Heaven’s kindness all incarnate, eaving all who come to Thee.’ And as she gazed on those blessed feet which went about continually doing good, and perceived them still dusty with the travel of the day, a tear fell, and, as with the tresses of her hair she brushed it off, it was her impulse to open the alabaster box and suffuse those sacred feet with the aromatic oil which she durst not pour upon His head. Indignant and disgusted, Simon observed it all, and thought with himself, This man is no prophet. He little knows what an infamous creature that woman is. But Jesus said, “Simon, I have somewhat to say unto thee.” “Master, say on.” “There was a certain creditor who had two debtors. The one owed five hundred pence, the other fifty. But both were bankrupt. They had nothing to pay, and so he frankly forgave them both. Tell me which will be most grateful.” — That is, We shall suppose that this woman is a sinner tenfold worse than you — ten times deeper in God’s debt. But you have nothing any more than she. In that respect you are

alike. Neither has any effects — any goodness — any merit — aught to meet the claims of law and justice: Suppose I were frankly forgiving both: who is likely to feel the deepest obligation? — And Simon answered, 11 I suppose the one who has the largest amount forgiven.” And Jesus answered, “Thou hast rightly judged. Seest thou this woman? I entered into thine house. Thou gavest me no water for my feet; but she hath washed them with tears, and wiped them with the hairs of her head. Thou gavest me no kiss; but this woman since the time I came in hath not ceased to kiss my feet. My head thou didst not anoint with oil; but this woman hath anointed my feet with ointment. Wherefore I say unto thee, Her sins which are many are forgiven: for she loved much: but to whom little is forgiven, the same loveth little.” As much as if He had said, Were one forgiven who thinks himself so little of a sinner as you think yourself, he would feel little thankfulness: but God is glorified in the forgiveness of a sinner like this, — for great is her gratitude. And thoroughly to assure her agitated spirit, He added, “Thy sins are forgiven,” — and when they raised the question, “Who is this that even forgiveth sins?” with kingly majesty He ignored their cavil, and only repeated, “Thy faith hath saved thee: go in peace.”

Yes, Simon was confounded at this woman’s presumption. His own impulse would have been to hurl her out of doors, and he could not comprehend why his guest allowed her to come near Him. u If this man were a prophet, He would have known who and what manner of woman this is that toucheth Jlim: for she is a sinner.” But Jesus knew. He r her case, and He understood her feeling. He knew that this was a pardoned sinner, who would sin no more. He knew that this was His own beatitude. “Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted.” He knew that in all that apartment there was not one to whom sin looked so horrible: nor one with a conscience so tender as that poor, sobbing outcast. He knew that it was a relief for her to weep: that she would fain pour forth her very soul in this burst of delicious sorrow: and it was good for her to weep. A joy mingled with these tears; and that blessed Spirit who had opened their fountain was meanwhile filling her soul with His own transfusive sanctity and with aspirations after new obedience. And where Simon saw only the “sinner,” Jesus saw the pardoned penitent; and far from finding contamination in her presence or pollution in her touch, this brand plucked from the burning was to Him the dearest of trophies. To the Saviour no music could be sweeter than those sobs of heartfelt contrition, no balm from the broken alabaster so welcome as this penitent’s tears.

From this incident we see what it is which produces true repentance. If you were going out into the open air on a frosty day, and were you taking a lump of ice, you might pound it with a pestle, but it would still continue ice. You might break it into ten thousand atoms, but, so long as you continue in that wintry atmosphere, every fragment, however small, will still be frozen. But come within. Bring in the ice beside your own bright and blazing fire, and soon in that genial glow “the waters flow.” A man may try to make himself contrite. He may search out his

Bins and set them before him, and dwell on all their enormity, and still feel no true repentance. Though pounded with penances in the mortar of fasts and macerations, his heart continues hard and icy still. And as long as you keep in that legal atmosphere it cannot thaw. There may be elaborate confession, a got-up sort of penitence, a voluntary humility, but there is no godly sorrow. But come to Jesus with His words of grace and truth. From the cold winter night of the ascetic come into the summer of the Great Evangelist. Let that flinty frozen spirit bask a little in the beams of the Sun of Kighteousness. Listen for a little to those words which melted this sinner into a penitent — which broke her alabaster box and brimmed over in tears of ecstatic sorrow and self-condemning devotion: for, finding that you too have much forgiven, you also will love much. The soul which only grew more estranged from God in the effort to conquer its own enmity will become a joyful captive in the arms of Fatherly forgiveness; and taking up the easy yoke of that Kedeemer who has taken off your heavy burden, you will find rest for your soul in the service of that Saviour who freely and fully pardons all your sins.