A Life of St. John for the Young

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.

Bethany— Old Engraving
Page 120

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 Peræa, 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 Peræa. Meanwhile His heart went out toward Bethany in Judæa. 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 Judæa, 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 Judæa.

"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."

The Resurrection of Lazarus—Old Engraving
Page 126

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

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.

Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem—Gustav Doré
Page 138

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:

Prophecy Fulfilled:

Prophecy Understood:

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."

Christ and St. John—Ary Scheffer
Page 155

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

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

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 Arimathæa; 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."

He showed them "a large upper room." It was probably reached, as in many oriental houses, by outside stairs. It was the choicest and most retired room. The goodman led the disciples into it. They found it "furnished" with a table, and couches around it on which Jesus and His company could recline. But this probably was not all. The table was "prepared" with some of the provisions required for the feast. These included the cakes of unleavened bread, the five kinds of bitter herbs, and the wine mixed with water for the four cups which it was the custom to use.

But there was something more which Peter and John must do to "make ready" for the feast. It was the most important thing of all. It was to prepare the "Paschal Lamb." With such a lamb they had been familiar from childhood. As their fathers brought it into their homes, and their mothers roasted it, and parents and children gathered about it in solemn worship, the Bethsaidan boys had no thought of the day when the Messiah would bid them prepare for the feast of which He Himself would be the host, at the only time apparently when He acted as such.

When John was pointed by the Baptist to Jesus, he had no thought that He would prepare the last Lamb for Him whom He was to see sacrificed as "the Lamb of God." No wonder that Jesus sent Peter and John to make ready, instead of Judas the usual provider, who in the same hour "sought opportunity to betray Him."

We follow them from the house of the goodman toward the Temple. Nearing it they listen with mournful solemnity to the chanting of the eighty-first Psalm, with its exhortation to praise,—"Sing aloud unto God our strength. Blow up the trumpet in the new moon, in the time appointed, on the solemn feast day." Then they listen for the threefold blast of the silver trumpets. By this they know that the hour has come for the slaying of the lambs. Peter and John enter the court of the priests, and slay their lamb whose blood is caught by a priest in a golden bowl, and carried to the Great Altar.

Of this they must have been reminded a few hours later when Christ spoke of His own blood shed for the remission of sins. John must have remembered it when he saw and wrote of the "blood and water" that flowed from the pierced side of his Lord. While the lamb is being slain the priests are chanting, and the people responding, "Hallelujah: Blessed is He that cometh in the Name of the Lord."

The lamb of sacrifice, slain and cleansed and roasted, is carried by the two disciples on staves to the upper room. After lighting the festive lamps, they have obeyed their Lord's command, "Make ready the Passover."

Meanwhile He and the remaining ten, as the sun is setting, descend the Mount of Olives, from which He takes His last view of the holy but fated city. The disciples follow Him, still awed by what He had told them of its fate, and with forebodings of what awaited Him and them. Among them was the traitor carrying his terrible secret, bent on its awful purpose which is unknown to the nine, but well known to the Master. Thus they go to the upper room where Peter and John are ready to receive them.

In Jesus' message to the goodman He said, "I will keep the Passover at thy house with My disciples." They were His family. He chose to be alone with them. Not even the mothers Mary and Salome, nor Nicodemus on this night, nor the family of Bethany, could be of His company. No Mary was here to anoint His feet with ointment; nor woman who had been a sinner to bathe them with her tears. Lazarus was not one of them that sat with them; nor did "Martha serve." It was the twelve whom He had chosen, and who had continued with Him. It was to His apostolic family that He said, "With desire I have desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer." And so "He sat down with the twelve" alone, the only time—as is supposed—that He ever ate the Passover meal with His disciples.

That room became of special interest to John. Sent by his Master to find it, he was mysteriously guided thither. There he was welcomed by the good owner of the house, who united with him in preparation for the most memorable feast ever held. It is there that we see him in closest companionship with his Lord. It was the place in Jesus' mind when He said, "Go and make ready for us the Passover." "Where shall we go?" asked John. He found answer when he entered that upper room. Because of his relation thereto it has been called "St. John's Room"—more sacred than any "Jerusalem Chamber," so named, or any "St. John's Cathedral!"

CHAPTER XXIII

John's Memories of the Upper Room