John immediately adds, "And His disciples believed on Him." This is the first time they are spoken of as such. As yet they were disciples only. At the end of the blessed week in which they had "found the Messiah," there had been formed a close companionship which was to become closer still. But the time had not yet come for them to leave their homes and business, and attend Him wherever He went. They were not yet Apostles. The marriage feast had become to them more than a social festival. Their Lord had intended that it should be so. Their faith in Him on the Jordan, was strengthened in Cana.

"This beginning of miracles," says John. What was this beginning? It was not the healing of the sick, nor raising of the dead, nor supplying a hungry company with bread, nor furnishing a necessary drink. There was no display. Jesus stretched forth no rod over the water-jars, as did Moses over the waters of the Nile when the same Divine power changed them into like color, but different substance, and with a different purpose. The first manifestation of His glory was for "the increase of innocent joy."

When John had read the story of Jesus in the first three Gospels, and found no record of this miracle, did he not feel that there had been a great omission which he must supply? Nowhere else does Jesus appear just as He did at that feast, though other incidents of His life are in harmony with it. It is sometimes said He "graced" that marriage feast, as royalty does by mere presence. But He did more. He entered into the innocent festivities, and helped to their success. A glance into that village home is a revelation of Jesus in social life, and His interests in human friendships and relations.

We must remember that it was only innocent pleasures that He helped to increase, in which alone we can seek the presence of His Spirit, and on which alone we can ask His blessing.

This marriage feast must have been of special interest to John, if, as is supposed, the family was related to Mary and probably to him. This would seem to be her first meeting with Jesus since He bid her farewell in Nazareth, and left the home of thirty years, to be such no longer.

Did not Mary, mother-like, call John aside from the festive scene and say to him, "What has happened at the Jordan? tell me all about it." I seem to hear John saying to her; "It is a wonderful story. Of some things I heard, and some I both saw and heard. You know of the ministry of your cousin Elizabeth's son John—of his preaching and baptizing. Jesus was baptized by him. Immediately they both had a vision of 'the Spirit of God descending upon Him; and lo! a voice from heaven saying, This is My beloved Son.' Then John was certain who Jesus was. He told the people about the vision, saying, 'I saw and bear record that this is the Son of God.' And one day when my friend Andrew and I were with him, he pointed us to Jesus saying, 'Behold the Lamb of God,' whom we followed, first to His abode on the Jordan, and then here to Cana. We were disciples of John, but now are His disciples, and ever shall be. You know, aunt Mary, how from childhood I had thought of Him as my cousin Jesus, and loved Him for His goodness. From what my mother has told me, which she must have learned from you, there has been some beautiful mystery about Him. It is all explained now. Hereafter, I shall love Him more than ever, but I shall think of Him, not so much as my cousin Jesus, as the Messiah for whom we were looking, and as the Son of God."

How the mother-heart of Mary must have throbbed as she listened to her nephew John's story of Jesus on the Jordan. How it must have gone out toward him, because of his thoughts about her son, and his love for Him. How grieved she must have been as she thought of her own sons who did not believe as John did concerning their brother Jesus. The time was to come when Jesus would make her think of John, not so much as a nephew, as a son.

In that festive hour, Mary too learned the lesson that human relationships to Jesus, however beautiful, were giving way to other and higher. The words He had spoken to her at the feast, like those He had uttered in the Temple in His boyhood, and the things that had happened on the Jordan, showed her that henceforth she should think, not so much of Jesus as the Son of Mary, as the Son of God.

In thoughts she must have revisited the home of Elizabeth, whose walls, more than thirty years before, had echoed with her own song, "My soul doth magnify the Lord, and my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour."



CHAPTER XII

John and Nicodemus

"There was a man of the Pharisees, named Nicodemus, a ruler of the Jews: the same came unto Him by night."

"We speak that we do know, and bear witness of that we have seen."—John iii. 1, 2, 11.

"There is Nicodemus, who visited Jesus by night—to the astonishment of St. John—but who was soon afterward Jesus' friend."—John Watson.

"The report of what passed reads, more than almost any other in the gospels, like notes taken at the time by one who was present. We can almost put it again into the form of brief notes.... We can scarcely doubt that it was the narrator John who was the witness that took the notes."—Alfred Edersheim.

Three incidents mentioned by John only comprise all we know of Nicodemus. In each of them he refers to him as coming to Jesus by night. That visit seems to have made a deep impression on John. We may think of Him as present at the interview between the Pharisee and the "Teacher come from God."

We are not told why Nicodemus came at a night hour. Perhaps he thought he could make sure of a quiet conversation, such as he could not have in the daytime. Perhaps he did not want to appear too friendly to Jesus until he knew more about Him, though he already had a friendly feeling toward Him. Perhaps he was afraid of the Sanhedrin, the highest Jewish Court. Most of its members hated Jesus and had commenced their opposition to Him, which was continued during His life, and resulted in His death. Not so felt Nicodemus, though a member. At a later day he opposed their unjust treatment of Him. If he did not think of Jesus as the Messiah, he yet thought of Him as a prophet, "a teacher come from God." He was anxious to know more. So cautiously and timidly he sought Jesus in the night.

We suppose that, at the time of Jesus' death, John had a home in Jerusalem. It has been thought possible that when and before he became a disciple of Jesus he had an abode there, attending to the business connected with the sale of fish from his home in Galilee. There Jesus might be found in the guest-chamber on the roof of the oriental house which was reached by an outside stair. Nicodemus had no invitation, such as Andrew and John had to Jesus' abode on the Jordan, but he had an equal welcome to John's home, whither he had come on a like errand, though with different views of Jesus, to learn of Him. He sees still burning in the upper chamber the night lamp of Him whom he is to know as "the light of the world." He ascends the stair, stands at the door and knocks; and it is opened. Apparently without lengthy salutation, or introduction, he makes known his errand in the single sentence, "Rabbi, we know that Thou art a teacher come from God, for no man can do these signs that Thou doest, except God be with Him." He might have added, "What shall I do?" Jesus gave a very solemn answer to his question,—"Except a man be born anew, he cannot see the kingdom of God." He taught him that doing certain things, and not doing others, was not enough; he must be good. To be good there must be a change of spirit. As a child has a beginning of its earthly life, he must have the beginning of a spiritual life, or he cannot be fitted for the kingdom of God in this world or that which is to come. That great change comes "from above," from God Himself.

Listen to some of the wonderful truths Jesus taught to Nicodemus. They are for us as well as for him. 1. Those who do not have this change of spirit must "perish." 2. But none need to perish, for "eternal life" has been provided. 3. This life is through the suffering and death of the "Son" of God. 4. God "gave His only begotten Son" to do all this. 5. God did this because He "so loved the world." 6. This "eternal life" can be had only by "believing on" the Son of God. 7. "Whosoever" so believes may have eternal life.

All this is included in one sentence:

"God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth on Him should not perish, but have eternal life."

This is the golden text of St. John's Gospel, and of the whole Bible. Through all the ages it has sounded, and will sound to the end of time, as the gospel itself.

John must have been a most attentive listener to all that Jesus said. This was at the beginning of His Lord's ministry. Fresh truths easily impressed him. They were the buddings of which he was to see the bloom, of whose fruitage he would partake most abundantly, and which he would give to others long after the echo of the Great Teacher's words had died in the chamber where he and Nicodemus heard them.

It was long after that nightly visit that John wrote his account of it, including the golden text whose keyword was Love. It is supposed that he wrote his Epistle about the same time. That text was so present in his thought that he repeated it in almost the same words: "Herein was the Love of God manifested in us, that God hath sent His only begotten Son into the world, that we might live through Him."

At the close of his long life, in which he had learned much of the power and justice and holiness and goodness of God, it seemed to him that all these were summed up in the one simple saying, "God is love."



When John bade Nicodemus good-night, he could not look forward to the time, nor to the place where we see them together again. John the lone apostle with Nicodemus and his Lord at the beginning of His ministry, is the lone apostle at the cross. Then and there, he recalls the first meeting of the three as he beholds the Rabbi approaching. This is his record; "Then came also Nicodemus, who at the first came to Jesus by night."

There is a tradition concerning Nicodemus that after the Resurrection of Jesus, his faith in Him was strengthened. The "teacher come from God" he now believed to be the Son of God. The timid Rabbi became a bold follower of the Lord whom he once secretly sought. For this he was no longer permitted to be a ruler of the Jews. He was hated, beaten, and driven from Jerusalem. At last he was buried by the side of the first martyr Stephen, who had baptized and welcomed him into the fellowship of the Christian Band.



CHAPTER XIII

St. John and the Samaritaness

"He cometh to a city of Samaria, called Sychar.... Jacob's well was there. Jesus therefore, being wearied with His journey, sat thus on the well. There cometh a woman of Samaria to draw water. Jesus said unto her, Give Me to drink."—John iv. 5-7.

"Probably John remained with the Master. They would scarcely have left Him alone especially in that place; and the whole narrative reads like one who had been present at what passed."—Edersheim.

The vale of Sychar is one of the most interesting spots in the Holy Land. Jacob's well is one of the sacred sights about whose identity there is no dispute. I count the Sabbath when my tent overshadowed it one of the most memorable of my life. It was a privilege to read on the spot John's story of the Master tarrying there, and of the truths there revealed.

John tells us that Jesus, on His way from Judaea to Galilee, passed through Samaria, arrived at Jacob's well, and "being wearied with His journey sat thus on the well," while His disciples went "away unto the city to buy food."

It is not necessary to suppose that all of the six went to the neighboring city. Probably John remained with the Master. His narrative is one of the most distinct word-paintings in the whole Gospel story. He writes like one who saw and heard all that passed, not only when the other disciples were with him, but also and especially what happened when they were absent from the well.



John tells us that Jesus "was wearied with His journey." The observing, tender-hearted disciple saw and remembered his Master's weariness. In this simple, brief record, he reminds us of Jesus' humanity, and so how much He was like ourselves. How much of his Lord's weariness and suffering the sympathizing disciple was yet to witness.

We may think of John alone with Jesus, seated in an alcove which sheltered them from the sun. They may often have been thus found in loving companionship. With what delight would we read of those private interviews. How sacred and precious they must have been to John.

At the well, what subjects there were for conversation, suggested by memories of the spot. Here Abraham had erected his first altar in Canaan to the true God, whom Jesus was about to reveal more perfectly. This was the parcel of ground which Jacob had bought, and in which he had buried the false gods of his household. Here Joseph had been a wanderer seeking his brethren. This was the place which Jacob when dying had given to his son Joseph, on whose tomb Jesus and John looked as they talked together. The twin mountains of Ebal and Gerizim looked down upon them, reminders of the days of Joshua, when the two Israelitish bands called to each other in solemn words, and the valley echoed with their loud "Amen." Not every Jew could have the personal interest in that well, such as the two weary travelers could claim, through the family records of their common ancestor even to Abraham. It was not on account of John that these records had been kept, but of the "Son of Man" at his side, whom he had learned to look upon as "the Son of God." As they sat together John could not look into the future, as his Master could, and think of the time when they would be in the region together with an unfriendly reception; nor of that other time when John would come to it again and have a friendly reception, but with memories only of his Lord.



But their visit alone did not last until the return of His disciples. It was suddenly interrupted. "There cometh a woman of Samaria to draw water." She was no fitting companion for them. She was not prepared to enter into their thoughts and feelings. She was an ignorant woman of the lower order of society, sinful, and not worthy of the respect of those who knew her. "Give me to drink," said Jesus—fatigued, hungry, thirsty. She gazed upon Him with astonishment. She knew by His appearance and dress that He was a Jew. She supposed that any such would be too full of hatred and pride to ask even such a simple favor of a Samaritan. Her answer showed her surprise. He gently spoke of her ignorance of Him, and of a richer gift than the one He asked, and which He was ready to bestow. It was "living water"—"the grace and truth of which He was full." Changing her manner toward Him, and addressing Him more respectfully, she asked, "Art Thou greater than our father Jacob?" She meant, "Surely Thou art not greater." How strange this must have sounded to John as his eye turned from her, to Him before whom Jacob would bow in adoration could he have joined that circle on the spot where he had built an altar many years before. Jesus explained more fully the difference between the water for which He had asked, and that which He would give. He had asked a very small favor of her; He would bestow the greatest of gifts, even eternal life.

Not fully understanding Him, and yet believing He was some wonderful person, she repeated His own request, but with a changed meaning,—"Sir, give me this water." Perhaps to make her feel her sinfulness and to lead her into a better life, He showed her that though He was a stranger, He knew her past history. Her astonishment increased and she exclaimed, "Sir, I perceive that Thou art a Prophet." Ashamed, she quickly changed the subject.

She and her people claimed that Mount Gerizim was the holy place of the Holy Land; while the Jews said that Jerusalem was "the place where men ought to worship." She wanted the Prophet she had so unexpectedly met to decide between them. With calmness, solemnity and earnestness, He made a sublime declaration to her, meant for Jews, Samaritans and all men. It was this: "Woman, believe me, the hour cometh, when neither in this mountain, nor yet in Jerusalem, shall ye worship the Father.... The hour cometh, and now is, when the true worshipers shall worship the Father in spirit and truth: for such doth the Father seek to be His worshipers. God is a spirit: and they that worship Him must worship in spirit and truth."

But this did not satisfy her. It was all so new and strange, so different from what she and her people believed, that she was not prepared to accept it from an unknown stranger, though he seemed to be a prophet. She thought of One greater than she thought He could be, One who was wiser than any prophet then living, or who ever had lived, One who she believed was to come. So, with a sigh of disappointment, her only reply was, "I know that Messiah cometh; ... when He is come, He will declare unto us all things."

How the quickened ear of John must have made his heart thrill at the name Messiah. Until a few weeks before, he too had talked of His coming, but already had heard Him declare many things which no mere prophet had spoken. Is he not prompted to break the silence of a mere listener? Is not his finger already pointed toward Jesus? Are not the words already on his tongue?—"O woman, this is He," when Jesus makes the great confession he made before Pilate, saying to the Samaritaness, "I that speak unto Thee, am He."

So it was that He whose coming the angels in their glory announced to the shepherds in Bethlehem, He whom the Baptist proclaimed to multitudes on the Jordan, He whose glory was manifested to the company in Cana, made Himself known to this low, ignorant, sinful, doubting, perplexed stranger, in words "to which all future ages would listen, as it were with hushed breath and on their knees."

These words of Jesus to the woman, "I am He," closed their conversation, so unexpected to her when she came with her water-pot, in which she had lost all interest. Her mind and heart had been filled instead. She had drawn from Him richer supplies than Jacob's well could ever contain. From that hour she thought of it, not so much as Jacob's well as the Messiah's well.

The disciples returning from the city, coming within sight of Jesus, "marveled that He was speaking with a woman." The people then and there had a mistaken idea that to do so was very improper. The disciples were the more astonished because she was a Samaritan. But they had such a sense of His goodness, that they did not dare to ask, "Why talkest Thou with her?"

She was interrupted in her conversation with Jesus, by the coming of the disciples. She left her water-pot at the well. Too full of wonder and gratitude to stop to fill it, or to be hindered in carrying it, she hastened to the city with the good news of what she had seen and heard. So had Andrew and John each carried the good news to his brother saying, "We have found the Messiah." She believed she had found Him. But the good news seemed almost too good to be true, and she wanted the men of the city to learn for themselves. So she put her new belief in the form of a question, "Is not this the Christ?" A great number obeyed her call, and believed with her that Jesus was the Messiah.



Meanwhile the disciples asked Him to eat of the food they had brought. But His deep interest in the woman, and joy in the great change in her, was so great that for the moment He felt no want of food. So He said to them, "I have meat to eat that ye know not." ... "My meat is to do the will of Him that sent Me." Never again did the disciples marvel that their Master talked with a woman, or with a sinner of any kind. We seem to see John, weary and hungry as his Master, but unmindful of bodily discomforts, because of his intense interest in what is passing. His record does not give his own experiences, but we can imagine some of them. His watchful eye detects every movement and expression of his companions,—the calm, earnest, loving, pitying look of Jesus; and the excited, scornful, surprised, joyful, constantly changing looks of the woman. He first marks her pertness of manner; then the respectful "Sir"; then the reverence for a prophet; and at last the belief and joy in the Messiah.

Whether or not John was witness to all that passed at the well, or whether Jesus gave him the minute details, or whether the Samaritaness, during the two days that Jesus and His disciples remained in Sychar, told Him all, his story is one of the most lifelike in the Gospels, teaching the greatest of truths.

If that noon hour at Jacob's well was a memorable one for the woman, it was also for John. For him Christ was the Well of Truth. Of it he was to drink during blessed years. Standing nearest to it of any mortal, receiving more than any other, he was to give of it to multitudes thirsting for the water of life.



CHAPTER XIV

The Chosen One of the Chosen Three of the Chosen Twelve

"Walking by the sea of Galilee, He saw two brethren, Simon, who is called Peter, and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea, for they were fishers. And He said unto them, Come ye after Me, and I will make you fishers of men. And they straightway left the nets, and followed Him. And going on from thence He saw other two brethren, James the son of Zebedee, and John his brother, in the boat with Zebedee their father, mending their nets, and He called them. And they straightway left the boat and their father, and followed Him."—Matt. iv. 18-22.

"He was the Supreme Fisher, and this day He was fishing for them."—Stalker.

"When it was day, He called His disciples; and he chose from them twelve, whom also He named apostles, Simon, whom He also named Peter, and Andrew his brother, and James and John, and Philip...."—Luke vi. 13, 14

"Jesus taketh with Him Peter, and James, and John."—Matt. xvii. 1.

"One of His disciples, whom Jesus loved."—John xiii. 23.

"We know not all thy gifts, But this Christ bids us see, That He who so loved all, Found more to love in thee."

Once more we find the two pair of brothers on the shore of Gennesaret, not together, but within hailing distance. All night long they have toiled at fishing without any reward. The morning has dawned. Wearied and with the marks of labor on their persons and their garments, their empty boats drawn upon the beach, they are mending their nets which have been torn by the waves, and cleansing them from the sand which has been gathered instead of the fishes they sought.



Meanwhile a multitude of people in the neighboring field is listening to the Master. The fishermen may hear His voice, but their nets must not be left in disorder; they must be put in readiness for another trial, which, though they know it not, will be most abundantly rewarded.

They cannot go to Him, but He comes to them with a greeting and a command, "Follow Me and I will make you fishers of men."

The time had come for Him to gather His first disciples more closely about Him for instruction and preparation and service in His kingdom. They had seen proofs of His Messiahship. They had been with Him long enough to know something of His work and teachings, and what was included in His call to follow Him. They understood it meant leaving their boats and nets by which they had earned their daily bread, and even leaving their homes, and going with Him wherever He went, trusting Him for support, ready to do anything to which all this would lead them. Their belief in Him, and their love for Him, were enough to secure immediate obedience to the new command.

In their faithfulness in their duties in their former life, in the carefulness in mending their nets, in the patience and perseverance during the nights of fruitless toil, in their thoughtfulness, skill and experience in catching fish—in such things Christ found likeness of what He would make them to become—fishers of men. From their old business He would teach them lessons about the new,—of His power, the abundance of His store, and the great things they were to do for Him and their fellow-men. Before they leave it, He makes Himself a kind of partner with them. Having used Simon's boat for a pulpit for teaching, He tells him to launch out into the deep and to let down his net. It encloses a multitude of fishes. Andrew and James with their brothers whom they had called to Jesus, the first company to follow Him from the Jordan, are the first to do so in a new and fuller sense from the shores of Gennesaret, where they first learned of Him.

There is something touching in the special reference to the call of the sons of Salome, whose relation to Mary first interested us in them. It is said of Jesus, "He saw James the son of Zebedee and John his brother and He called them. And they immediately left their father in the ship with the hired servants. They forsook all and followed Him."



What reminders do we here have of the past! James and John, true brothers in childhood, united in business in early life, now hand in hand commence life anew. Having become the help, and much more the companions of their father they must leave him to the companionship of hired servants. But in this hour of sundering family ties, the loving father and loving sons rejoice in Jesus as their Master whom they all willingly obey.

He chose twelve whom He called Apostles. Such was the glorious company, composed of young men, the most honored in all earthly history, to be His closest companions, His missionary family. During the remainder of His life He would train them; and when leaving the world trust their faithfulness and devotion in extending His kingdom. The two pair of brothers and their early friend Philip are the first named of the Apostles. The early Bethsaidan group composed almost one-half of the apostolic company. But within that circle there was another. Three of the twelve were chosen by the Lord for closer intimacy. They were to be special witnesses of His greatest power, His most radiant glory, and His deepest sorrow upon earth. They were Peter, James and John. Two of the three, Peter and John, were to be united in special service for their Lord while He was with them, and so continue after He was gone. But of the twelve Jesus drew one closest to Himself, most loved and the most glorious of them all: it was John.

In seeking a reason for Christ's fixing the number of His disciples, some have found a fancied one in the twelve precious stones of Aaron's breastplate. The most precious stone would represent John, the chosen one of the Great High Priest. In his own vision of the new Jerusalem "the foundations of the wall of the city were garnished with all manner of precious stones." "And the wall of the city had twelve foundations, and on them twelve names of the twelve Apostles of the Lamb." It was that Lamb of God to which he had been pointed on the Jordan, and to which he points us as he beholds Him by the "glassy sea." As John read those names did he not recall the day when Jesus chose twelve whom "He named Apostles"?



CHAPTER XV

John in the Home of Jairus

"He suffered no man to follow with Him, save Peter, and James, and John. And they came to the house of the ruler of the synagogue."

"And taking the child by the hand, He saith unto her, Talitha cumi; which is, being interpreted, Damsel I say unto thee, Arise. And straightway the damsel rose up, and walked."—Mark v. 37, 38, 41, 42.

The first scene in which we find John as one of the favored three is in the house of mourning. It was the home of Jairus in Capernaum. He was a ruler of the synagogue. "He had an only daughter, about twelve years of age, and she lay a dying." He hastened to Jesus, fell at His feet, worshiped Him, and besought Him saying, "Come and lay Thy hands on her that she may be healed; and she shall live."

Did he not have in mind Peter's wife's mother, living in the same town, and how Jesus "came and took her by the hand and lifted her up; and immediately the fever left her"? Jesus started for the house, followed by a throng, some doubtless full of tender sympathy for their townsman, and some curious to see what the wonder-worker would do.

A messenger from Jairus' home met him saying, "Thy daughter is dead; trouble not the Master." But the father's faith in Jesus was not limited to the power to heal. Could not the hand that had already touched the bier of the widow's only son, be laid on his only daughter, with life-restoring power? Could not the command spoken in Nain "I say unto thee, arise," be repeated in Capernaum, and in like manner be obeyed? Without heeding the messenger's question about troubling the Master, he cried out yet more earnestly, "My daughter is even now dead; but lay Thy hand upon her, and she shall live." But the father's entreaty was unnecessary, for Jesus was already responding to the messenger's words as, turning to Jairus, He said, "Fear not, only believe."

How eagerly the curious crowd hastened toward the ruler's home, because of a possible miracle, even raising the dead. But they were not to be witnesses of such display of Divine power. Yet even if the throng be excluded, might not the Twelve, following close to Jairus and Jesus, expect admission to the home? What was the surprise and disappointment of nine of them to be forbidden admission by Him whom they were following. But so it was. "When He came to the house He suffered not any man to enter in with Him, save Peter, and John and James, and the father of the maiden, and her mother."



This is the first we know of this distinction in the apostolic band. We almost hear the nine saying, "Why is this?" Can it be that, in that hour, at the door of this house of mourning, there was awakened the feeling of jealousy which afterward appeared? Did it inspire in the three a sense of superiority, and ambition to be higher in position than the rest in the kingdom of their Lord? Did James and John especially hope for promotion above the nine, and even the ten including Peter? So it will appear. But all this was to pass away when the band better understood the nature of their Lord's kingdom, and possessed more of His spirit.

The death-chamber was too sacred a place for numbers, even for the nine, whose admittance would be more fitting than that of the hired mourners whom Jesus excluded with them. He had His own wise reasons for the choice of the three. We do not wonder that John was one of them. With all his manifest failings—which he at last overcame—he was the most like his Master. In that death-chamber the Lord was to show His "gentleness and delicacy of feeling and action" such as John could understand, and with which he could sympathize.

"And taking the child by the hand, He saith unto her, Talitha, cumi." We are glad that Mark has preserved for us the very words that must have thrilled the heart of John. They had been interpreted, "My little lamb, my pet lamb, rise up." In them was a lesson for John. They were a revelation of his Master's tenderness toward childhood. It was a needed lesson, which he finally learned.

As John and Peter saw the returning life of the little maid, and heard their Master's command "that something should be given her to eat," they thought not of the time when they should stand together again near the same spot with the same Master, Himself risen from the dead, and hear Him utter another command, "Feed My lambs."

As they with James followed their Lord out from the death-chamber—such no longer—and heard His charge "that no man should know" what had happened, the very secrecy drew more distinctly the line of the inner circle about the three. It was not to be erased during the Lord's earthly sojourn with the twelve.



CHAPTER XVI

John a Beholder of Christ's Glory

"We beheld His glory, glory as of the only begotten from the Father."—St. John i. 14.

"We were eyewitnesses of His majesty. For He received from God the Father honor and glory ... when we were with Him in the holy mount."—2 Peter i. 16-18.

"As brightest sun, His face is bright; His raiment, as the light, is white, Yea, whiter than the whitest snow. Moses, Elias, spake with Him. Of deepest things, of terrors grim, Of boundless bliss, and boundless woe, Of pangs that none but Christ may know.

"A voice sublime I panting hear, A voice that conquers grief and fear, Revealing all eternity; Revealing God's beloved Son, Born to redeem a world undone; Filled with God's fulness from on high, To gain God's noblest victory." —Trans. Kingo of Denmark.

We may think of the twelve as Christ's family with whom He often prayed apart from the multitude. One such occasion was in Caesarea Philippi. The prayer was followed by two earnest and solemn questions. "He asked the disciples, saying, Who do men say that the Son of Man is? And they said, Some say John the Baptist; some, Elijah; and others, Jeremiah or one of the prophets."

How strange these sayings must have sounded to St. John and his Jordan companions, who had been directed by the Baptist to their Messiah. Three of them were soon to witness Elijah's tribute to Him, as being more than the "Son of Man." Such already had He become to them. He was more interested in the opinions of the disciples than in those of the multitude. So He asked with emphasis, "But who say ye that I am? And Simon Peter answered and said, Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God. And Jesus answered and said unto him, Blessed art thou, Simon Bar-Jona: for flesh and blood hath not revealed it unto thee, but My Father which is in heaven."

But in the mind of Jesus even this blessed revelation was not enough for His believing yet frail disciples. Even the three, the most enlightened of the twelve, needed a clearer vision of Him and His kingdom, and strength for trials they were to endure. So they needed His prayers.

"From that time began Jesus to show unto His disciples how that He must go to Jerusalem, and suffer many things, ... and be killed." He needed prayer also for Himself. So "Jesus taketh with Him Peter, and James and John, and bringeth them up into a high mountain apart by themselves." The favored three, who had witnessed His power in the raising of Jairus' daughter, were to be witnesses of his glory. Luke says He "went up into the mountain to pray." Not Tabor,—for which mistaken tradition has claimed the honor—but Hermon was doubtless the "high mountain." This kingly height of the Lebanon range was a fitting place for Jesus the King. The glittering splendor of its snows is a fitting emblem of His character. It was the highest earthly spot on which He stood. From it He had His most extensive views. Here He had His most exalted earthly experience. Peter rightly named it "the Holy Mount" because of its "glory that excelleth" all other mountains.

We do not know the thoughts or feelings or words of the nine when Jesus "taketh with Him the three." We wonder whether their wonder was at all mixed with jealousy. As they saw the three "apart by themselves," their lessening forms ascending Hermon, and at last hidden from their view by the evening shades, can it be that the dispute began which cast a gloom over their Lord when He descended from that mountain of glory?

And the three themselves—what were their emotions as they looked down upon their companions in the plain below, and upward to the height whither their Master was bringing them. Did they whisper together concerning the word He had just spoken—that He must die. They must have had such mingling of feelings as they never had before.

It was the evening after a Sabbath. At the close of the weary summer day, after the long and steep ascent of the mountain, and in the strong mountain air, it is no wonder that the three disciples were "weighted with sleep."

Luke not only tells us that Jesus went up "to pray" but also that "He prayed." Would that John had recorded that prayer, as he did those supplications in the Upper Room and in Gethsemane. "As we understand it," says Edersheim, "the prayer with them had ceased, or merged into silent prayer of each, or Jesus now prayed alone and apart."

On the banks of the Jordan, where Jesus and the three had met, while He "was praying, the heavens were opened," and the dove-like form descended upon Him, and His Father's voice was heard. And now "as He prayed," there came an answer, immediate and glorious: "He was transfigured before them."

The disciples though "weighted with sleep," "having remained awake, they saw His glory, and the two men that stood with Him." It was many years after this vision that John, speaking for the three, testified, "We saw His glory."

"The fashion of His countenance was altered." "His face did shine as the sun." "His garments became exceeding white; so as no fuller on earth can whiten them," "white as the light," "glistering," "dazzling."

"Behold there appeared unto them Moses and Elijah talking with Him." How did the disciples know the Lawgiver and the Prophet? We are not told. There may have been given them some supernatural powers of discernment. They may have known by the conversation between Jesus and His celestial visitants, as, in earthly language with heavenly tone, they "spoke of His departure which He was about to accomplish at Jerusalem," of which He had told them on the plain below.

It was that Moses who fifteen hundred years before came down from Mount Sinai with the two tables of the law in his hands, when Aaron and the children of Israel stood in awe before His shining face. But now He had come, not from the mount which Paul describes as "darkness," but unto that other whose snowy whiteness has given it the name of Lebanon. He had come from Heaven, to yield homage to Him to whom He would sing with us,

"My dear Redeemer and my Lord, I read my duty in Thy Word; But in Thy life the Law appears, Drawn out in living Characters."

"The children of Israel could not look steadfastly upon Moses for the glory of His face." In the "excellent glory" by which Peter describes the scene on Hermon, the whole figure of His Lord was bathed in light. But the glory of that vision was not yet complete. A cloud, brighter than any on which the moon was shining, enwrapped Jesus and Moses and Elijah. It was no other than the Shechinah, once more returning to the earth,—"the symbol of Jehovah's presence."

This cloud overshadowed the disciples. As its light gleamed upon them, they were filled with reverential fear. They were ready to do the heavenly visitors immediate and humble service. But the mission of the two was ended. Their last words of comfort to Jesus had been spoken. If they could be detained, it must be done quickly. So, awed and confused by the strange vision, yet longing for its continuance, the disciples, Peter being the spokesman, proposed to make booths for their Master and His two heavenly visitors. But the two had gone, and the crown of glory that had enveloped them spread to the disciples, filling them with yet increasing awe. The silence that had followed Peter's call was broken. "There came a voice out of the cloud, This is My Beloved Son; hear ye Him." Startled by such a response, "they fell on their face and were sore afraid." They did not dare to look about them. The Cloud of Glory lifted. How long they lay prostrate and trembling, we do not know. At last a hand gently touched them. It was the hand of Jesus. His voice bid them, "Arise, and be not afraid. And when they had lifted up their eyes they saw no man, save Jesus only."



The Transfiguration was over. Its grand purpose was accomplished. Master and disciples were prepared for the labors and trials to which they must return. The night ended. As the morning sun glistened on the peaks of Hermon, while darkness yet overspread the plain below, Jesus descended with the three, to the nine awaiting their return.

"And as they were coming down from the mountain, He charged them that they should tell no man what things they had seen, save when the Son of Man should have risen again from the dead. And they kept the saying, questioning among themselves what the raising again from the dead should mean."

Peter's and John's memories of that vision of their Lord were ever distinct and precious. When it was no longer a secret, Peter wrote in ecstasy of the hour in which they "were eyewitnesses of His majesty, ... when they were with Him in the holy mount."

Let us notice the record by John. In the beginning of his gospel he says "The Word was made flesh and dwelt amongst us." By this he means that the Son of God became a man, and lived among men who witnessed His life. But of all the events of that life which John had seen, there was a special one in his mind, which not all men had witnessed. So he adds, "We beheld His glory." This probably refers to the Transfiguration and the Shechinah, which he and Peter and James had seen. And then he thinks of how much greater Jesus was than John the Baptist, "a man sent from God," "to bear witness of" Him. He thinks also of the great Lawgiver of whom he says, "the Law was given through Moses; grace and truth came by Jesus Christ."

We imagine that ever after the Transfiguration, John thought of Moses and the Shechinah together. Had he with his companions been permitted to build three tabernacles or booths, "one for Moses," what delightful visits John would have made him there, like that one which he had made in the abode of Jesus on the banks of the Jordan.



I seem to hear Moses telling John something of his own history when on the earth, and teaching him lessons from it in words like these: "This is not the first time I have heard the Lord's voice, from out this cloud of glory. Out of the burning bush He called me, 'Moses, Moses.' At Sinai He said, 'Lo, I come unto thee in a thick cloud.' And again He appeared in 'a pillar of a cloud,' and said, 'Behold thou shall sleep with thy fathers.' I saw not that cloud again on earth until you beheld it. My thoughts were about death. I prayed about it, not as your Master and mine has done in preparation therefor, but that I might not then die. This was my prayer: 'Let me go over I pray Thee and see the good land that is beyond Jordan, that goodly mountain, and Lebanon,'—the very mountain where we now are. But the Lord would not hear me. I prayed yet again more earnestly, and the Lord said unto me, 'Let it suffice thee; speak no more unto me of this matter.' From yonder mountain of Nebo He showed me all the land we now see from Hermon; and then I died. The Lord buried me in yonder land of Moab. No man knoweth my sepulchre unto this day. I died, my great hope of forty years disappointed. My repeated earnest prayer was ungranted then, but it has not been unanswered. This 'goodly' Lebanon, to which I looked from Nebo with longing eyes, is more 'goodly' now than when it sadly faded from my dying vision. You, John, are one of the witnesses to the answer to my dying prayer. Never did the Shechinah at Horeb, or Sinai, or the Tabernacle, seem so resplendent as on this Mount Hermon. Here it has enwrapped Elijah and me, the favored two whose mission Gabriel might have envied. We were sent down from heaven to talk with Jesus concerning His death, of which He has told you. In view of it He has lead you, the favored three hither to pray. It was while He prayed that ye 'beheld His glory.' Not only for me, but much more for Him, is Hermon the mount—'The Holy Mount,' because the mount of Prayer, and therefore the mount of Transfiguration."



CHAPTER XVII

St. John's Imperfections

"Master, we saw one casting out demons in Thy name; and we forbade him, because he followeth not with us."—John.

"Lord, wilt Thou that we bid fire to come down from heaven, and consume them, even as Elijah did?"—James and John.

"Grant us that we may sit, one on Thy right hand, and one on Thy left hand, in Thy glory."—James and John.

"And when the ten heard it, they began to be moved with indignation concerning James and John."—Mark x. 41.

John was not perfect. There were unlovely traits in his otherwise noble character. It is not pleasant to write of his faults. We would gladly be silent concerning them. But there are four reasons for making record of them. 1. If we think of his virtues and not of his faults, we do not have a just view of his character; it is one-sided; we have an imperfect picture. 2. We see how Jesus loved him notwithstanding his imperfections. While hating his sins he loved the man. 3. Remembering John's faults, we give him all the more credit when we see how he overcame them, and what he became under the example and teachings of Jesus. 4. Having failings ourselves, we are encouraged by the full and truthful story of John's life, to overcome our own sins. Such are good reasons why the imperfections of good men like David and Peter and John are recorded in the Bible.

In speaking of John's boyhood, we hinted at some of his faults. Let us now notice them more particularly as given by the Evangelists. Sometimes he was evidently included when Jesus rebuked the disciples for some wrong they had said or done. On one occasion, he alone is mentioned; on two others he and his brother James are rebuked together. The first recorded incident, showing imperfection, is soon after the descent from Hermon. Jesus seems to have accompanied Peter to his home in Capernaum, to which the other disciples followed them. The favor which Christ showed the three in taking them to the mount may have caused a feeling of pride in them, and of jealousy in the nine. Pride was John's besetting sin, as we shall see. A great privilege had been granted him. Without telling the secret of Hermon to his fellow-disciples, he may, by improper word or act, or both, have shown a feeling of superiority, which displeased them, as the same spirit did on another occasion. At any rate, something led to a dispute who should be the greatest in the kingdom which they believed their Lord was to establish. This was a sad revelation of the ambitious spirit of these good men. It was probably on the way to Capernaum that an incident happened in which John seems to have been the chief actor. He exhibited a spirit of intolerance—a want of patience and forbearance toward a man whom they met. He was a disciple of Christ, in whose power he had such faith that he was enabled to cast out evil spirits in His name. He was doing a good work such as Christ gave His apostles power to do. They prided themselves in it, and felt as if they only had a right to it. So John, speaking for the rest, as if he had authority, forbade this man to use the power any more. On their reaching the house of Peter, Jesus asked, "What was it that ye disputed among yourselves by the way?" Perceiving that He knew their thoughts, they were silent with shame, until one of them, yet unconquered by His question of reproof, asked Him "Who is the greatest?" He did not answer the question immediately. As if in preparation for something special, "He sat down and called the twelve" about Him; He uttered one reported sentence, "If any man would be first, he shall be last of all, and minister of all." And then "He called a little child to Him and set him in the midst of them." It was His object lesson. Through it He rebuked and taught them. He made childhood a test of character. With solemnity and earnestness He declared, "Verily I say unto you, Except ye turn and become as little children, ye shall in no wise enter into the kingdom of heaven."

That child-spirit included simplicity, meekness, harmlessness, obedience, dutifulness, trustfulness and, especially at this time, humility.

The Lord's declaration must have startled the disciples. They thought of themselves as His chosen ones, superior to others, having special powers, and destined to special honors which none other might claim. In a spirit contrary to His declaration, they were contending who should be the greatest in His kingdom. He revealed to them, then and there, the nature of that kingdom which they had so greatly misunderstood.

Upon one at least, Christ's lesson was not altogether lost. That was John. He recalled his proud and unjust treatment of the humble man whom he had forbidden to do good work in the name of Christ. He saw that his own spirit had been contrary to that of which Christ had just spoken. He finally confessed his fault. But the lesson of his Master was not perfectly learned, or if learned, was not, as we shall see, perfectly obeyed. Though the beloved, he was still an imperfect, disciple, as is shown in another incident.

At the time when Jesus lived, and in the country where He journeyed, travelers were generally welcomed as guests in any home. Though strangers, they were treated as friends. This was a necessary kindness because there were no hotels such as we have in our day and country.

But to this hospitality there was a noted exception. We have noticed the hatred of the Samaritans to the Jews. This was especially shown to pilgrims going up to Jerusalem to attend the feasts.

Jesus was on His last journey thither. As ever, He was teaching and healing on the way. His own heart was burdened with the thought of what He was to endure, but He was steadfast in His purpose to reach the Holy City, willing there to suffer and to die. Nearing the first Samaritan village, He sent messengers before Him to prepare for Himself and His company. Even the common hospitality was refused, and that in a most unfriendly manner. The Master was treated as a teacher of falsehood. Even the kind healer was not permitted to enter the village. He was a Jew on His way to Jerusalem. In the minds of the villagers, this was more than enough to balance all the good in Him.

James and John especially were indignant at the unkind treatment. They felt keenly the insult to their Lord, whom they believed was on His way to Jerusalem to establish His Kingdom, and was worthy of the most generous hospitality and the sincerest homage. They had a fresh remembrance of the glory in which they had seen Him on the Holy Mount in company with Elijah. They were reminded of that prophet's experience more than nine hundred years before. It was this: Ahaziah, a king of Israel, was seriously injured by a fall from the balcony of his house. He sent to inquire of the false god Baal-zebub whether he should recover. God sent Elijah to reprove him for his idolatry and insult to Himself. The king sent a captain with fifty men to seize the prophet, but they were consumed by fire from heaven. Another captain and his fifty men were also destroyed in like manner.

Such a punishment James and John would call down on the Samaritans. They felt that it would be just. If fitting for the enemies of Elijah, how much more for those of Jesus. They were ready to give the command which God permitted Elijah to give, if Jesus would allow them to do likewise. And so, being displeased, provoked, revengeful, with a fiery spirit, they said to Him, "Lord, wilt Thou that we command fire to come down from heaven, and consume them, even as Elijah did?" But Jesus "turned and rebuked them," and said, "Ye know not what manner of spirit ye are of."

It was contrary to the spirit of meekness and love manifest in His declaration to them, "The Son of Man is not come to destroy men's lives, but to save them." And so He inspired them with another spirit, as He quietly led them "to another village." We sadly turn to another scene in which imperfection in the beloved disciple is especially revealed.

The favored brothers had not yet learned perfectly the lesson of humility which their Lord had tried to teach them. They were still devoted to Him, following Him, loving Him. But they still misunderstood what He said about His death, and His kingdom, in which they hoped for the most honored places. They wanted to be assured of promotion above their fellow-disciples. They were earnest in an unholy desire. They had a bold, ambitious request to make of the Lord. It was the chief occasion on which their pride was revealed. We have two accounts of it. In one of them the mother Salome appears as the speaker. She brings her sons to Jesus, prostrates herself before Him, and offers this petition, "Grant that these my two sons may sit, the one on Thy right hand, and the other on Thy left, in Thy Kingdom." She had a loving mother's pride. She was the aunt of Jesus, and perhaps felt that because of this relationship, her sons had a right which the other Apostles could not claim. She had given them to His service, and had proved her own love and devotion to Him by following Him with other women of Galilee, ministering to His comforts. Meanwhile James and John, according to another account, themselves urged their mother's request saying, "Grant unto us that we may sit, one on Thy right hand, and one on Thy left hand, in Thy glory."

Mother and sons shared in the spirit of self-seeking and self-exaltation. But we must not forget that it was faith in Him as the Messiah, and in His coming "glory," that led them to show it, though in a mistaken way.

In sorrow and tenderness, and pity for their ignorance, Jesus replied, "Ye know not what ye ask." While His eye rested on them, His thoughts were on another scene. It was a cross with Himself upon it, and a malefactor on each side, instead of the brothers in their pride. As John at last stood by it, did he recall the hour of his mistaken ambitious request, which had never been repeated. There had been no need that the Lord should say to him, as to Moses, "Ask me not again," yet like Moses, he was to receive a most glorious answer in another form. In his pride, with an earthly throne in mind, he had asked, "Grant that I may sit with Thee in Thy glory?" Having conquered his unholy ambition there was fulfilled in him the promise of His Lord in glory, "To him that overcometh will I grant to sit with Me on My throne."

The time came when there was no longer occasion for the other ten apostles to be "moved with indignation concerning James and John," because of their pride and ambitious seeking. This John is the disciple whom, with all his imperfections, Jesus loved most of all; this the man known as the most lovable of men; this the one who well-nigh reached human perfection through his ardent and ever increasing love for Jesus; this the one who is called the Apostle of Love.



CHAPTER XVIII

John and the Family of Bethany

"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 the Lord's feet, and heard His word."—Luke x. 38, 39.

"Now a certain man was sick, Lazarus of Bethany, of the village of Mary and her sister Martha."—John xi. 1.

"Now Jesus loved Martha, and her sister, and Lazarus."—v. 5.

"Jesus ... said, ... Lazarus is dead."—v. 14.

"Jesus wept."—v. 35.

"He cried with a loud voice, Lazarus, come forth. He that was dead came forth."—vs. 43, 44.

"As he (John) gives us so much more than the synoptists about the family at Bethany, we may infer that he was a more intimate friend of Lazarus and his sisters."—A. Plummer, D.D.

In four sentences Luke draws an unfinished picture of a family group, whose memory has become especially precious because of what John has added to it. His probable familiarity with the family made this possible. No wonder if he felt that the original picture must be enlarged and retouched. The place where that family lived had become to him too sacred a spot to be called simply "a certain village." Martha was more than "a certain woman," who though hospitable, was distracted in her housekeeping. Mary was fairer than Luke had painted her. John had seen her do more than sit at Jesus' feet. He manifestly felt that the resurrection of Lazarus was too great an event to be omitted from the gospel story, as it was by the other Evangelists who, when they wrote, might have endangered the life of Him whom the Jews sought to destroy. John's heart demanded a stronger tribute to Mary than Matthew or Mark had given. Let him be our guide to the blessed home. With his eyes let us see Jesus' relation to it, and with his ears listen to the Master's words there spoken.



As he opens the door we see a family of wealth, refinement, hospitality and affection. Its members are of kindred spirit with him: and so would be attracted to him, and he to them. But there was a special bond of union. "Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus." Such is the tender passing remark of John who elsewhere calls himself "the disciple whom Jesus loved." These four form a group of special objects of Christ's affection. They ardently loved Him. We may suppose that John's relation to the family of Bethany was closer than that of any other disciple. This fitted him to make us familiar with their characters, and many incidents of their home.

John was with Jesus in Bethany in Peraea, when there came the sad, brief, confiding message from Mary and Martha, "Lord, behold, he whom Thou lovest is sick." Doubtless it touched the heart of the apostle as well as that of his Master, whose response he records: "This sickness is not unto death, but for the glory of God, that the Son of God may be glorified thereby." We are reminded of John's own words concerning the change of water into wine: "This beginning of miracles did Jesus in Cana of Galilee, and manifested forth His glory."

Jesus' plan for Lazarus included a delay of two days in Bethany of Peraea. Meanwhile His heart went out toward Bethany in Judaea. So did John's. But, though Jesus tarried, it can be said, as on another occasion, "He Himself knew what He would do." While John was wondering, waiting and watching, perhaps he remembered how the nobleman's son was healed in Capernaum when Jesus was in Cana, and thought it possible that the messenger would be told to say to the sisters, "Thy brother liveth."

When at last Jesus proposed to His disciples that they all go to Judaea, John's love may have contended for a moment with fear, as they protested, because of danger from His enemies: but it was for a moment only. When Jesus said, "Let us go unto him," we almost wonder that it was not John the loving, nor Peter the bold, but Thomas the sometimes unready, that said concerning Jesus, "Let us also go that we may die with Him." But we imagine that John was the readiest to go, and kept the closest to his Master in the pathway to Bethany in Judaea.

"Our friend Lazarus sleepeth," said Jesus. Though all of the disciples were thus addressed, we think of John as especially including Jesus and himself in that word "our," because of the nearness of their relation to the afflicted family. And then that other word "sleepeth"—it must have carried him, as well as James and Peter, back to the home of Jairus, where they heard the same voice to which they were now listening say, "The child is not dead but sleepeth."

We almost wonder that the three did not turn to their fellow-disciples and say that "Jesus had spoken of the death of Lazarus," while "they thought that He spake of taking rest in sleep." But evidently not so; and when Jesus "said unto them plainly, Lazarus is dead," doubtless John was the saddest of them all, because of his special interest in him. The full record—the only one of what transpired in that sad, joyful home—shows how closely John watched every movement of Jesus and the sisters, and how carefully he noted what they said. We may give credit to his memory, even with the aid which he says was promised the disciples in their remembrance. He notes the coming of Martha to meet Jesus, while "Mary sat still in the house;" Martha's plaintive cry, "Lord, if Thou hadst been here, my brother had not died;" the conversation between her and Jesus concerning the resurrection; the sudden change from it to His asking for Mary; Martha's return to the house and whispering in her sister's ear, "The Master is come and calleth for thee;" the hurried obedience to the call—all these incidents are recorded by John with the particularity and vividness of an eyewitness.

It appears as if Jesus would not perform the intended miracle until the arrival of Mary. John's account of their meeting is full of pathos. He watches her coming, notices the moment she catches sight of Him through her tears, and her first act of falling down at His feet, and her repetition of Martha's cry, "Lord, if thou hadst been here my brother had not died." He looks into the faces of both as "Jesus sees her weeping." He contrasts Mary's real and deep sorrow with the outward and heartless outcries of pretended grief, at which Jesus "groans in spirit," because a seeming mockery in the presence of His loving friend. John measures the depth of the Lord's "troubled" spirit by His outward movements. He opens to us His heart of hearts in the brief, tender record, "Jesus wept." Where in the whole story of His life do we gain a keener sense of His humanity, especially His tenderness and sympathy. What a revelation we would have missed if John had been silent, but the emotion of His own heart had been too deep to allow any such omission. "Jesus wept." As Professor Austin Phelps declares, "The shortest verse in the Bible is crowded with suggestions."

While John is our guide to the tomb of Lazarus, and more than that, the sincere mourner with the afflicted sisters, he is yet more the disciple of Jesus, receiving new and lasting impressions of divine truth and of his Master, which are embodied in his story.

John recorded seven miracles of our Lord. The first was that of turning water into wine. The last was the raising of Lazarus. In both of them He points us to the same glorious purpose. He says that in the first, Christ "manifested forth His glory," and that the second was "for the glory of God, that the Son of God might be glorified thereby." And now standing with Martha by the yet unopened tomb, John hears their Lord remind her of His assurance that if she believed, she "should see the glory of God." That hour had come. The Lord had commanded, "Take ye away the stone." John was most attentive to every act of the passing scene. His eyes glanced from the stone to his Lord. As soon as the command concerning it was obeyed Jesus lifted His eyes upward, and said, "Father"—calling upon Him with whom He was to be glorified.

John had stood at the bedside of the only daughter of Jairus, and heard the command, "Damsel, I say unto thee, Arise." By the bier of the widow's only son he had probably heard that other, "Young man, I say unto thee, Arise." And now standing by the open door of the tomb of the only brother, was He not listening for a like command? He had not long to wait. The prayer of his Lord was ended. The tone of prayer was changed to that of command. "He cried with a loud voice, Lazarus come forth. And he that was dead came forth." John describes his appearance. He was "bound hand and foot with grave clothes, and his face was bound about with a napkin." When Jesus saith unto them, "Loose him and let him go"—away from the excitement and curiosity of the heartless mourners—who was so ready as John to obey the command, while welcoming his friend back to life? Who could so fittingly escort him from the darkened tomb to the relighted home, with the sisters still weeping—but for joy.

In John's old age when he recalled this resurrection scene, he seems to have had a special memory of the younger sister's sorrow. He speaks of the "Jews which came to Mary" in the hour of her sadness.

But His memory of that resurrection day was tinged with gloom. He traced back, from the cross on Calvary to the tomb in Bethany, the way by which his Lord had been led by His enemies. "From that day forth they took counsel together for to put Him to death."



It is tradition, not John, which tells us concerning Lazarus that the first question which he asked Christ after He was restored to life was whether He must die again; and that being told that he must, he was never more seen to smile. But John, better than tradition, tells of another scene in which we imagine his smiles were not restrained. To it let us turn.



CHAPTER XIX

John's Memorial of Mary

"When Jesus was in Bethany, ... there came unto Him a woman having an alabaster cruse of exceeding precious ointment, and she poured it upon his head, as He sat at meat."—Matt. xxvi. 6, 7.

"Verily I say unto you, wheresoever this gospel shall be preached in the whole world, that also which this woman hath done shall be spoken of for a memorial of her."—Matt. xxvi. 13.

"It was that Mary which anointed the Lord with ointment, and wiped His feet with her hair."—John xi. 2.

"There is something touchingly fraternal in the momentary pleasure which He (Christ) appears to have taken in the gift of the alabaster box."—Austin Phelps.

"Her eyes are homes of silent prayer, Nor other thought her mind admits But, he was dead, and there he sits, And He that brought him back is there.

"Then one deep love doth supersede All other, when her ardent gaze Rose from the living brother's face, And rests upon the life indeed." —Tennyson.

That is an impressive picture drawn by Saints Matthew and Mark, of a scene in Bethany, where an unnamed woman brought a flask of ointment which she poured on the head of Jesus, thus exciting murmuring and indignation against her, who was defended by Him, with assurance of perpetual remembrance of her deed.

Yet a comparison of the accounts of these two Evangelists with the story given by John, suggest the thought that he was not satisfied with the picture. His remembrance of the things that happened before and after that scene, his friendship for the family of Bethany, his understanding of the Master's feelings and thoughts, his sense of justice to himself and to his fellow-disciples, the omission of an important figure in the grouping, and especially his tender sympathy for the unnamed heroine of the story—these things demanded in his mind additions and re-touchings to make the picture complete.

Let us imagine ourselves before him while he is reading the manuscripts of Matthew and Mark, long after they were written. He tells us of incidents, unmentioned by them, that enlarge and make clearer our view of the scene. We note the impressions we may suppose were made on him at the time of the event, and were still fresh in his old age when he tells the story.

"I remember distinctly"—so he might say—"this scene in Bethany, both what these two writers report, and what they do not. The hour was drawing near when my Lord must die. So He had told me; but somehow I did not understand that this must be. It seems strange to me now that I did not, as well as one of my friends did, who realized the nearness of the sad hour. I had arrived with Him at Bethany 'where Lazarus was which had been dead, whom He raised from the dead.' It was a great joy to meet again the friend whom I had welcomed from the tomb."

It is true, as here written by Mark, that Jesus "sat at meat." But this does not tell the whole story. The people of Bethany wished to unite in doing Him honor: "So they made Him a supper there." It was fitting that it should be "in the house of Simon" whom Jesus had healed from leprosy, and who was probably a relative or special friend of the family loved by Jesus. I wonder that their names do not appear in the story given by these two Evangelists: I could not forget them. I remember how "Martha served" at the table, as if in her own home, seeming more of a hostess than a guest; and how "Lazarus was one of them that sat at the table with Him" who had bid him rise from the tomb; and how Mary showed her gratitude for her brother's restoration, and love for his Restorer. To me that supper loses half its interest without the mention of these names, so suggestive of near relation to the Lord. Here I read, "There came unto Him a woman." That is indeed true; but I find no hint of who this unknown woman was. Could Matthew probably present, have forgotten it? Had Mark absent, never been told?

Matthew says she had "an alabaster cruse of precious ointment," which Mark explains was "spikenard very costly." This also is truly said, for I learned that "Mary ... took a pound of ointment of spikenard very precious." This she could well afford. Some have suggested that perhaps, like oriental girls of fashion, she had bought it in her pride, but after coming under the influence of Jesus, had left it unused. But I am more inclined to believe she intended it from the first as an expression of overflowing love.

Mark says "she broke the cruse." I remember, as she crushed the neck of it, all eyes were turned upon her, watching her movements. Lazarus, reclining at the table, gazed upon her with brotherly interest; and Martha, moving around it glanced at her with sisterly affection. There was one man whose expression was something more than curiosity. In it there was a shade of displeasure.

These two Evangelists tell that Mary "poured the ointment upon" and "over" the "head" of Jesus. This was a common custom in rendering honor and adoration. But it did not satisfy Mary, if the Lord could only say with David, "Thou anointest my head." Her anointing was so profuse that He could say,—as Matthew testifies that He did—"She poured this ointment upon My body." But I would testify to another act, fuller yet of meaning. She "anointed the feet of Jesus." This meant far more than the washing of feet, as an humble act of hospitality and honor. It was an unusual act of adoration. I saw bathed in spikenard what I have since seen bathed in blood. But that was not all. Making of her long tresses a fine but unwoven towel, "she wiped His feet with her hair"; kneeling in devotion where she had loved to sit in learning.

I noticed the glowing rapture in her face, and an occasional glance into that of her Lord, unmindful of the presence of all others, while He looked kindly upon her. It was then that I discovered that "the house was filled with the odor of the ointment." But, alas, not so with the perfume of her deed. "There were some that had indignation among themselves, ... and they murmured against her": so says Mark. "When the disciples" saw Mary's deed "they had indignation": so says Matthew. It is true that signs of dissatisfaction came from the group of the disciples, but it is the voice of one of them that has ever since rung in my ears, to whom "the unworthy grumbling should be assigned." In justice to the disciples he should not be unnamed. Mary was still in the act of her devotion to Jesus. "But Judas Iscariot, one of His disciples, which should betray Him, saith, 'Why was not this ointment sold for three hundred pence, and given to the poor?' This he said, not because he cared for the poor"—not he—"but because he was a thief and, having the bag, took away what was put therein." He it was who from the first showed displeasure at Mary's act. His words were both an exclamation and a question, a sort of soliloquy, and yet addressed to anybody who might hear and answer: but they needed no answer. It was too late to gather up the ointment already used, and sell it for the poor or for any other purpose. But Judas' purpose I well understand. I see through his hypocrisy now more clearly than I did then.



With the sharp, reproving voice of Judas, Mary glanced into his angry face. This would have filled her with terror had she not immediately looked into that of Jesus beaming upon her. One hand of His was over her, as if in protection and benediction, while the other waved in a reproving gesture. As I read how He answered the question of Judas with another, "Why trouble ye her?" and then commanded, "Let her alone"; and then declared, "She hath wrought a good work upon me," I recall the changing expressions of His face, and His tones of indignation and affection.

I was startled by the reason He gave for letting her alone,—that she might preserve what remained of the ointment, not for the poor, but to be used for His burial, near at hand.

She it was of whom I have spoken who understood better than I or any of my fellow-apostles, that our Lord's life was nearing its end.

I find here in the records of Matthew and Mark the assurance of the Lord concerning the unnamed woman of whom they have written. It is this, "Verily I say unto you, 'Wheresoever this gospel shall be preached in the whole world, that also which this woman hath done shall be spoken of for a memorial of her.' Let it be known that this woman was Mary of Bethany, then at Jesus' feet. Henceforth let her name be linked with her deed."

Thus ends the words we have imagined St. John might have spoken with the Gospels of Matthew and Mark in his hand. The additions to their story are suggested by his own Gospel. He has drawn a beautiful picture of Mary, in brighter colors and more delicate shades than has any other. To him artists are chiefly indebted for their ideas of her. His own character was so completely in harmony with hers that he understood what his fellows did not. By them she was misjudged and condemned; he saw and admired the sweetness of her spirit, and the purity and nobleness of her motive. Upon the monument reared by other Evangelists, he inserted her name. In her he saw a reflection of her Lord and his. His memory and his record alone secured for her in particular the fulfilment of the Lord's prophecy concerning the remembrance of her deed. Every Christian home in the whole world has been, or will be, filled with the spiritual fragrance of her offering. But the prophecy is more than fulfilled. That which she hath done is not only "spoken of," for in many a home inspired by her spirit, her name has been given as a memorial of her whom John distinguished from all others as "that Mary which anointed the Lord with ointment and wiped His feet with her hair." It was of Mary that Jesus said, "She hath done what she could."

John's picture of her is all the brighter because of his dark background of Judas. He has forever associated their names in contrast. In his mind, the anointing was ever suggestive of the betrayal. He remembered how the "thief" asked his hypocritical question at the moment of the greatest perfume; and how Judas was planning the betrayal while Mary was meditating on the death to which it would lead. It appears almost certain that Judas, stung by the Lord's reproof of him and defence of Mary, ready to sell his Lord's body for a less sum than he valued the ointment, turned from the feast in anger, hastening to the chief priest with the cursed question and promise, "What will ye give me, and I will deliver Him unto you?" Wheresoever the gospel is preached throughout the whole world, that also which this man hath done is spoken of—but not for a memorial of him.

John's picture of Mary, Judas and Jesus is a most suggestive grouping. What harmony and contrast! What light and shade! What revelation of love and hate, of friendship and enmity, of devotion and sacrilege! To no other scene does Christ sustain quite the same relation. The friendship of His first feast—that of Cana—is deeper and tenderer in His last, at Bethany.

There is something sublime in this Son of God having all power, pleading with Judas that Mary might be permitted to continue her service of love for Him.

Add John's own likeness to the three at whom we have been looking, and what a grouping we have—Jesus with His loved Mary, and John the most beautiful illustration of human friendship, and Judas the betrayer. Let imagination complete what no artist has attempted.

When John recalls the odors of Mary's ointment filling the house, he seems to catch a refrain from Solomon's song, and addresses it to her,—"Thine ointments have a goodly fragrance; thy name is as ointment poured forth; therefore do the maidens love thee."

It is not the "maidens" alone, especially the Marys of Christendom, that "love" her, but all to whom the gospel is preached, who join in John's refrain, while thanking him for his "memorial of her."



CHAPTER XX

John a Herald of the King

PROPHECY:

"Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion; shout, O daughter of Jerusalem: behold, thy King cometh unto thee: ... lowly, and riding upon ... a colt."—Zech. ix. 9.

PROPHECY FULFILLED:

"He sent two of his disciples, saying, Go your way into the village over against you; in the which as ye enter ye shall find a colt tied: ... loose him, and bring him.... And they brought him to Jesus: and they threw their garments upon the colt, and set Jesus thereon."—Luke xix. 30, 35.

PROPHECY UNDERSTOOD:

"These things understood not His disciples at the first: but when Jesus was glorified, then remembered they that these things were written of Him, and that they had done these things unto Him."—John xii. 16.

"Daughter of Zion! Virgin Queen! Rejoice! Clap the glad hand and lift th' exulting voice! He comes,—but not in regal splendor drest, The haughty diadem, the Tyrian vest; Not arm'd in flame, all glorious from afar, Of hosts the chieftain, and the lord of war: Messiah comes!—let furious discord cease; Be peace on earth before the Prince of Peace!" —Heber's Palestine.

Zechariah foretold the coming of Christ five hundred years before the angels over Bethlehem heralded His birth. The prophets saw Him as the Messiah-king, but not such a ruler as most of the Jews of Christ's day expected. Even the disciples, believing Him to be the Messiah, had mistaken views of His kingdom. Yet He was the King foretold by the prophets; the Son of David who sang of Him as the "King" and as the "Lord's anointed"; the Messiah or Christ; the king of the Jews not only, but of all men. As such He would make a triumphal entry into the "City of the Great King." This would not be in the pride and pomp of an earthly conqueror, but in the "lowly" manner which Zechariah had foretold.

All the accounts of Jesus' journeyings leave the impression that He went a-foot. Only once do we know that He rode; that was in fulfilment of prophecy. That prophecy He purposed to fulfil the day after the feast of Bethany. This was intended by Christ to be His royal and Messianic entry into Jerusalem. The hour had come. A colt unused, and so fitted by custom for sacred purposes, was ready for His use. Having left the village "He sent two of His disciples to bring it to Him." These two are understood to be Peter and John, for whose united service He would soon call again. We may think of the owner of the colt as friendly toward their Master. When told by the disciples, "The Lord hath need of him," he was ready to serve Him by the loan of his beast. That "need"—whatever the owner or the disciples thought—was not so much to aid in Christ's journey as to make true the prophetic words concerning Him, "Thy King cometh ... riding upon ... a colt."

The two disciples "brought him to Jesus, and they threw their garments upon the colt, and set Jesus thereon."

We may think of Peter and John, having arranged for the royal ride, as heralds of their Lord, leading the procession from Bethany, and the first to greet with signal and shout the other coming from Jerusalem.

Beside their King, perhaps leading the colt on which they had placed Him, they would be the first to tread where "a very great multitude spread their garments in the way," and others "branches from the trees," and yet others "layers of leaves which they had cut from the fields"—thus carpeting the road winding around the slope of Olivet.

Were not Peter and John leaders in song when "at the descent at the Mount of Olives the whole multitude of the disciples began to rejoice and praise God," and especially when "the City of David" came into view? The joyful strains were from the Psalms of David—"Hosanna to the Son of David, Hosanna in the Highest Blessed is the kingdom that cometh, the kingdom of our Father David. Blessed is the King that cometh in the name of the Lord; peace in heaven, and glory in the highest."



In that last strain it would almost seem as if the angelic song of thirty-three years before, over the plain of Bethlehem, had not yet died away, and was echoed from Olivet.

In that hour did John and James have thoughts about sitting one on the right hand and the other on the left in a kingdom which seemed near at hand? Did they and the other disciples, who had been disappointed because their Lord had refused on the shore of Galilee to be made king, imagine that He certainly would now be willing to be crowned in Jerusalem?

When John wrote his account of the triumphal entry into Jerusalem, he recalled the prophecy concerning it. It is claimed that he speaks of himself and Peter in particular when he says, "These things understood not the disciples at first; but when Jesus was glorified, then remembered they that these things were written, and that they had done these things unto Him." This was a frank confession of his own dulness and ignorance: it is also an assurance of his later wisdom.

We see John on the highway of Olivet, a chosen disciple to aid His Lord in the hour of His earthly glory. We shall see him, even down to old age, in a yet nobler sense, a Herald of the King.



CHAPTER XXI

With the Master on Olivet

"Some spake of the Temple, how it was adorned with goodly stones and offerings."—Luke xxi. 5.

"One of His disciples saith unto Him, Master, behold, what manner of stones and what manner of buildings! And Jesus said unto him, Seest thou these great buildings? There shall not be left here one stone upon another, which shall not be thrown down."

"As He sat on the Mount of Olives over against the Temple, Peter and James and John and Andrew asked Him privately, Tell us, when shall these things be? and, What shall be the sign when these things are all about to be accomplished?"—Mark xiii. 1-4.

The Temple was the most sacred of all places, even before the Lord of the Temple entered it. His presence became its chiefest glory. In the hour when the waiting Simeon at last could there say "he had seen the Lord's Christ," it had a new consecration, and a beauty which its richness of materials and adornments had never given. In the hour when He there said to His mother, "Wist ye not that I must be in My Father's House?" or, "I must be about My Father's business," it was more consecrated still. Twice He had cleansed it from the profanation of unholy worshipers. Within it He had spoken as no man had ever done. It had been a theatre of His divine power.

That was a sad and solemn hour in the last week of His life when, as Matthew says, "Jesus went out and departed from the Temple." That was His farewell to it. With sadness He thought not only that He would never return to it for a blessed ministry of word and healing, but that the place itself would be destroyed. As He led His disciples from it, their minds were also upon the Holy House: but their thoughts were not His thoughts. They had long been familiar with its magnificence, from the day when each of them, at twelve years of age, for the first time had gazed upon it in wonder and admiration. We do not know why, as they were turning away from it and walked toward Olivet, "some spake of the Temple, how it was adorned with goodly stones and offerings," nor why "one of His disciples saith unto Him, Master, behold what manner of stones, and what manner of buildings!" But so they did. Doubtless they were surprised and disappointed that the Lord did not respond with like spirit to their enthusiastic exclamations. Were not such richness and beauty worthy of even His admiration? Why His momentary silence? Why His sadness of expression, as He looked toward the Temple, beholding it as they bid Him do, but manifestly with different purpose and feeling from what they intended? His appearance seemed most inconsistent with the glorious view. His response was startling,—"Seest thou these great buildings? There shall not be left here one stone upon another, which shall not be thrown down."

The astonished disciples were silenced, but an unspoken question was in the minds of some of them. Christ turned aside and ascended the mountain, taking with Him the chosen three, Peter, James and John. On this occasion Andrew is added to the private company. Once more we see by themselves the two pair of brothers with whom in their boyhood we became familiar in Bethsaida. We are reminded of the days when they sat together on the sea-shore, the time when they were watching for the coming of the Messiah with whom they now "sat on the Mount of Olives over against the Temple." Two days before, in the road below He had also prophesied of the destruction of the city, as He gazed upon it through His tears. Now He was on the summit, directly opposite the Temple, from which the city was spread out before Him. To me it is still a delight in thought, as it was in reality, to stand where they sat, and look down upon the same Temple area, and think of the Holy and Beautiful House, as it appeared before the sad prophecy had been fulfilled.

On this spot the poet Milman makes Titus to stand just before the destruction of Jerusalem, with determination and yet with misgiving, looking down on the city in its pride and the Temple in its gorgeousness, and saying:

"Yon proud City! As on our Olive-crowned hill we stand, Where Kidron at our feet its scanty waters Distills from stone to stone with gentle motion, As through a valley sacred to sweet Peace, How boldly doth it front us! How majestically! Like as a luxurious vineyard, the hillside Is hung with marble fabrics, line o'er line, Terrace o'er terrace, nearer still, and nearer To the blue Heavens. Here bright and sumptuous palaces, With cool and verdant gardens interspersed; Here towers of war that frown in massy strength; While over all hangs the rich purple eve, As conscious of its being her last farewell Of light and glory to the fated city. And as our clouds of battle, dust and smoke Are melted into air, behold the Temple In undisturbed and lone serenity, Finding itself a solemn sanctuary In the profound of Heaven! It stands before us A mount of snow, fettered with golden pinnacles! The very sun, as though he worshiped there, Lingers upon the gilded cedar roofs; And down the long and branching porticoes, On every flowery, sculptured capital, Glitters the homage of His parting beams. .... The sight might almost win The offended majesty of Rome to mercy."

But Roman majesty was not to be won to mercy. To the Twelve, Christ had foretold the destruction of the city. And now when the four were alone with Him, they "asked Him privately, tell us when shall these things be." For wise reasons Jesus did not tell. But one of them at least would learn both when and what these things would be. This was John. His tender and loving heart was to bleed with the horrible story of the fall of Jerusalem. There hunger and famine would be so dire that mothers would slay and devour their own children. Multitudes would die of disease and pestilence. Rage and madness would make the city like a cage of wild beasts. Thousands would be carried away into captivity. The most beautiful youths would be kept to show the triumph of their conqueror. Some of them would be doomed to work in chains in Egyptian mines. Young boys and girls would be sold as slaves. Many would be slain by wild beasts and gladiators. Saddest of all would be the Temple scenes. Though Titus command its preservation his infuriated soldiery will not spare it. On its altar there would be no sacrifice because no priest to offer it. That altar would be heaped with the slain. Streams of blood would flow through the temple courts, and thousands of women perish in its blazing corridors. The time was to come when John, recalling his question on Olivet and his Lord's prophecy concerning Jerusalem, could say,

"All is o'er, Her grandeur and her guilt."

Was he the one of the disciples who hailed the Master, saying, "Behold what manner of stones, and what manner of buildings!"? If so, with what emotions he must have recalled his exclamation after the prophecy of their destruction had been fulfilled. Outliving all his fellow-apostles the time came when he could stand alone where once he stood with Peter and James and Andrew, not asking questions "When shall these things be?" and, "What shall be the sign when these things are all about to be accomplished?" but repeating the lament of Bishop Heber over Jerusalem in ruins:

"Reft of thy son, amid thy foes forlorn, Mourn, widow'd Queen; forgotten Zion, mourn. Is this thy place, sad city, this thy throne, Where the wild desert rears its craggy stone; Where suns unblessed their angry luster fling, And way-worn pilgrims seek the scanty spring? Where now thy pomp, which kings with envy viewed? Where now thy might which all those kings subdued? No martial myriads muster in thy gate; No suppliant nations in thy temple wait; No prophet bards, thy glittering courts among, Wake the full lyre, and swell the tide of song: But lawless force and meagre want are there, And the quick-darting eye of restless fear, While cold oblivion, 'mid thy ruins laid, Folds its dank wing beneath the ivy shade."



CHAPTER XXII

John a Provider for the Passover

"He sent Peter and John, saying, Go and make ready for us the Passover, that we may eat."—Luke xxii. 8.

"And they went ... and they made ready the Passover."—v. 13.

The last time we saw Judas was when he left the feast of Bethany, murmuring at Mary's deed, angry at the Lord's defence of her, and plotting against Him. "From that time He sought opportunity to betray Him."

"The day ... came on which the Passover must be sacrificed." A lamb must be provided and slain in the Temple for Jesus and His disciples. Moreover a place must be provided for them to eat it. This preparation would naturally fall on Judas, the treasurer of the company, whom at a later hour the disciples thought Jesus instructed to buy some things for the feast. The place in Jesus' mind was yet a secret, unknown to the disciples, including Judas who could not therefore reveal it to His enemies. Who shall be entrusted with the service which He needed, and be in sympathy with Him in the solemn approaching hour? Not Judas. The two who had been the heralds of the King should be His messengers. So "He sent Peter and John saying, Go and make ready for us the Passover that we may eat." Again and again we shall find Peter and John together in circumstances of joy and sorrow, trial and triumph. Their first question was a very natural one, "Where wilt Thou that we make ready?" The Lord's secret was not at once revealed. He gave them a sign by which their question would be answered—another proof of His divine fore-knowledge. He told them to go into the city, entering which they would find a man bearing a pitcher of water. Him they were to follow to the house he entered, and tell its owner of His purpose to keep the Passover there. In a furnished room they were to prepare for His coming. They were full of curiosity, but had no doubt concerning the result of their errand. They trusted Him who had entrusted them with it.

Soon at the public fountain they were watching for the servant who should be their guide. Having done "as Jesus appointed them," they "found as He said unto them." As instructed they said "unto the goodman of the house, The Master saith unto thee, Where is the guest-chamber where I shall eat the Passover with My disciples?"

"The goodman of the house" is the only name by which this owner has been known. Some have thought He was Joseph of Arimathaea; others the Father of Saint Mark; others Mark himself. It is the name by which Jesus has called Him; that is honor enough. Without doubt he was a friend of the Lord. Perhaps like Nicodemus he had come to Him privately for instruction. He was ready to do what he could for His necessities when homeless in Jerusalem. He was ready to give Him a place of protection when, that very night, His enemies were seeking His life. Peter and John may never have met this unnamed disciple before. If so, it was doubtless the beginning of an acquaintance close and tender between them and him who was "the last host of the Lord, and the first host of His Church."