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THE LAST SUPPER
Mt. xxvi. 1-5, 14-19 ; Mk. xiv. 1,2, 10-16 ; Lk. xxii. 1-13. Mt. xxvi. 20-35 ; Mk. xiv. 17-31 ; Lk. xxii. 14-24, 27-38 (1 Cor. xi. 23-25); Jo. xiii, xiv.
While the Lord was thus discoursing to His disciples on Mount Olivet, the train had been laid for His destruction. Humiliated by the ill success of their encounters with Him in the Temple-court and exasperated by His stinging indictment, the rulers had retired in hot indignation and had met to plot their revenge. It was not a regular meeting of the Sanhedrin, though they, the Chief Priests and the Scribes, were its members ; for that would have attracted attention, and they had stealthy work to do. Their rendezvous was not the Hall of Hewn Stone (lishkath haggazith), the official chamber of the high court within the sacred precincts, but the residence of Caiaphas, the acting Chief Priest. There was no room within doors in a private residence for so large a company, and they congregated in the courtyard, the spacious area round which, after the oriental fashion (Mt.xxvi. 3 R.V.), the house was built, and there talked over the situation. They were unanimous in their resolution to arrest Jesus and put Him to death ; but here they were confronted by the old difficulty that He was the hero of the populace and His molestation would excite a tumult, always a serious affair in an eastern city. Reluctantly they recognised that they must postpone [ p. 380 ] their revenge until the Feast was over and by the departure of the multitude of worshippers from abroad the city had been restored to its normal quietude.
Just then a welcome opportunity for immediate action presented itself. The gate opened and a visitor entered the courtyard. It was Judas the Man of Kerioth. What had brought him thither ? The Master’s rebuke of his protest against Mary’s loving extravagance last Sunday evening during the supper at Bethany had ever since been rankling in his miserable mind ; and observing the subsequent trend of events and the inevitable issue, he had realised the vanity of his fond dream of an earthly kingdom. He had espoused the Lord’s cause in anticipation of wealth and honour when it prevailed ; and now, assured of its defeat and goaded by resentment, he had decided to abandon the disastrous adventure on the best terms obtainable. He knew the deadly purpose of the rulers and what held their hands ; and, probably while the Master was employed with the Greeks, he stole away to the Chief Priest and, finding him there in the courtyard conferring with his colleagues, introduced himself as a disciple of their adversary and proposed, if they would make it worth his while, to observe His movements and apprise them when they had an opportunity for quietly effecting His arrest. It was an infamous proposal, and even while they clutched at it the rulers scorned the wretch who made it. They offered him thirty shekels of silver, was the price of a slave, and he accepted it, rating thus cheaply not his Master but his own honour. (Cf. Ex. xxi. 32.)
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“Still, as of old,
Man by himself is priced.
For thirty pieces Judas sold
Himself, not Christ.”
They felt the degradation of the transaction and, desiring to have done with him, they paid down the money on the spot; and he hastened to rejoin his comrades and sat with them that night in Gethsemane, listening to the Master’s discourse.
That evening’s sunset, according to the Jewish reckoning, ushered in the Thursday of the Holy Week, the day of preparation for the paschal supper when the viands were procured and the table spread. They had no lodging in Jerusalem, and when they awoke in the morning, the disciples asked the Lord where He intended that they should eat the Passover that evening. Though He had told them nothing, He had already arranged it all. A friend in the city had promised Him the use of a room. Who it was that rendered Him this service is unrecorded, but from the ensuing narrative it seems most probable that it was Mary, that widow lady who dwelt in Jerusalem with her son John Mark, afterwards the Evangelist, and who subsequently, with characteristic hospitality, entertained the Apostles in her comfortable abode. Why had He not told the disciples of the arrangement ? (Ac. xii. 12) The reason is that not only did He know how the rulers’ eyes were upon Him eagerly watching for an opportunity to arrest Him but He had long been cognisant of the disaffection smouldering in the heart of Judas, and perhaps He had surmised his errand when he stole away from the Temple-court the previous afternoon. (Cf. Jo. vi. 70,71) [ p. 382 ] When every family was within doors engaged in the holy celebration, the streets of the city would be deserted, and were it known to the rulers where He was eating the Passover with His disciples, it would be easy for them to send their officers thither and quietly effect His arrest. He recognised indeed that His doom was sealed and could not be long delayed, but He would fain eat the Passover with His faithful followers and enjoy a last season of communion with them ere He suffered. (Lk. xxii. 15)
Therefore had He kept the secret; and even now when He must needs reveal it, see how He still guards it. He chose Peter and John, the most trusted of His disciples, and despatched them on the errand of preparing the supper; but He did not tell them plainly whither they should go. “Away to the city,” said He, “and there will meet you a man bearing a pitcher of water. Follow him. And wherever he enters, say to the master of the house : ‘ The Teacher says, Where is the guest-chamber where I am to eat the Passover with My disciples ? ’ And he will show you a large upper room furnished with couches. There make ready.” So He had arranged it with His friends in the city. He had confided in them, and they had undertaken to have a man-servant in waiting that morning at the city-gate with a pitcher of water. It was women that went to the well with pitchers, and a man with a pitcher was unusual. He would at once catch the eyes of the two disciples, and on their accosting him he would conduct them to the house. And that there might be no mistake a password had been agreed upon. They were to say to the master of the house : “The Teacher says, ‘ Where is the [ p. 383 ] guest-chamber ? '” and so he would recognise them and admit them.
Thus the secret was guarded. Judas was present while Peter and John received their instructions ; and though he fain would, yet with the Lord’s eye upon him he durst not follow them and discover the rendezvous.
The Paschal Supper was a commemoration of the Exodus; and year by year for full fifteen centuries it had been celebrated after the exemplar of that supper which, by the command of Moses, had been eaten in every household on the memorable night when the Lord brought forth His oppressed people from the land of bondage (Ex. xii.). The food that night had been the flesh of a lamb and bread, and it had been hastily prepared and hastily eaten. The flesh was roasted and the bread unleavened, and they ate the meal with their loins girt, their sandals on their feet, and staff in hand. And after this pattern was the memorial supper celebrated. The table was furnished with the roasted flesh of a lamb which had been slain at the altar in the Temple-court, and with unleavened bread, and moreover with bitter herbs symbolic of the bitterness of the Egyptian bondage, and the charoseth , a paste of dry fruits grated and moistened with vinegar, representing the clay wherewith the bondsmen had made bricks for their taskmasters.
It would be evening ere Peter and John had prepared all this ; and presently they were joined by the Master and their ten fellows. It was the Jewish custom that when guests assembled they were received by a slave who took off their sandals and laved their feet in cool water ; and though the necessity of privacy prevented the hospitality which had furnished the room from [ p. 384 ] providing also an attendant, a basin and a towel and a jar of water had been set in readiness in the expectation that one of the Twelve would perform the service for the Master and the rest. These met the eyes of the disciples as they entered, and they looked at each other and whisperingly debated which of them should discharge the menial office. It is a pathetic evidence of the hold which the Jewish conception of the Messianic Kingdom still had of their minds that they were still concerned with the question which of them should be the greatest. None of them would undertake it lest he should thereby prejudice his claim, and they took their places at the table with unwashed feet.
The Master had observed their heated colloquy, and it had grieved Him ; but at the moment He took no notice. He proceeded to dispense the supper. According to the stated order it began with the drinking of a cup of wine. The reason which prescribed that the bread should be unleavened, being baked in haste, required also that the wine should be the sort in common use; and since no fewer than four full cups were drained by each guest in the course of the celebration, the rule was that “for the avoidance of intoxication” the wine should be mixed with water, though not so largely as to lose “the appearance and flavour of wine.” Its mixing in the bowl was the prelude to the supper, and the Lord’s heart was full as He performed it. During these troublous days the disciples had remarked a peculiar tenderness in His bearing toward them (Jo. xiii. 1). “Before the Feast of the Passover, Jesus, knowing that His hour had come to pass out of this world to the Father, much as He had loved His own who were in the [ p. 385 ] world, now loved them” not “to the end” but “to the utmost—loved them as He had never done before.” It was the tenderness of approaching departure, and as He mixed the wine, His heart overflowed. He had been looking forward to that hour of peaceful communion, and now it had come. “Eagerly have I desired to eat this Passover with you ere I suffer.” It was the last time He would ever recline with them at an earthly table, but one day, He tells them, they would meet again. For that earthly supper was a symbol and a prophecy of the Heavenly Feast, and in bidding them farewell He was going before them to the Father’s House to prepare a better table and furnish it with a nobler provision against their arrival. “Eagerly have I desired to eat this Passover with you ere I suffer; for I tell you that I will no more eat it until it be fulfilled in the Kingdom of God.”
Here He blessed the wine which He had mixed according to the prescribed formula: “Blessed be He who created the fruit of the vine” ; and then He took a cup, His own cup, and filled it and, passing the bowl round, bade them fill their cups too. “Take this,” said He, “and share it among you. For I tell you that I shall never hereafter drink of this fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it with you new in the Kingdom of My Father.”
After the drinking of this the first cup the dishes were produced—the flesh of the lamb carved ready for use, the cakes of unleavened bread, the bitter herbs, and the charoseth. Another thanksgiving was pronounced : “Blessed be He who created the fruit of the earth,” and each took a cluster of the bitter herbs, dipped it in the charoseth, and ate it.
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Again the bowl went round, and after this the second cup the custom according to the ancient institution was at one of the company, properly the youngest of the family (cf. Ex.xii.), should put the question : “What mean ye by this service ?” and the head of the house answered by discoursing thus of its origin and significance : “This is the Passover which we eat, forasmuch as God ‘passed over’ the houses of our fathers in Egypt. These bitter herbs we eat, forasmuch as the Egyptians embittered the lives of our fathers in Egypt. This unleavened bread we eat, forasmuch as there was no time for the sprinkled flour of our fathers to be leavened ere God revealed Himself and redeemed them. Therefore ought we to praise, celebrate, and honour Him who did all these wondrous things for our fathers and for us, and brought you forth from bondage into liberty, from sorrow into joy, from darkness into great light. Therefore let us say ‘ Hallelujah.’”
This was the signal for the singing of the First Hallel (“Praise”)—Psalms cxiii and cxiv, but here the Lord introduced a startling innovation. For the customary explanation of the supper He substituted an acted parable. Doubtless the disciples had forgotten the quarrel which they had on entering the room. They had never meant the Master to know of it, and from His silence it seemed that it had escaped His notice. But He had observed it, and now He administers to them an impressive reproof. He rose from His couch and, putting off His loose cloak, stepped to the door, fastened the long towel about His waist, poured water into the basin, and bore it back to the table His intention was plain. He was [ p. 387 ] about to perform for the disciples that menial office which they had all disdained. He began with Peter. “Lord,” exclaimed the latter, “you wash my feet ?” “What I am doing,” was the answer, “you do not know at present, but you will learn afterwards.” “Never,” asseverated Peter, “will you wash my feet— never !” “Unless I wash you,” was the reply, “you have no part with Me.” He meant that Peter, who had no doubt been the hottest in the quarrel, had sore need of the lesson which He would presently unfold; and Peter immediately submitted. “Lord,” he cried, “not my feet only but also my hands and my head.” It was Peter’s way to leap thus from one extreme to another ; and the Master smiled at his characteristic impetuosity. “One who has been bathed,” said He playfully, “has need merely to wash his feet: he is clean all over.” He meant that He was not charging Peter with utter unregeneracy. He had indeed been bathed in the “laver of regeneration,” and all that he required was cleansing from the dust of daily defilement (Tit. iii. 5 marg.). And this that was true of Peter was true of them all with a single exception. “One who has been bathed has need merely to wash his feet: he is clean all over; and,” He added sorrowfully, looking round the circle, “you are clean, but not nil.” The eleven would wonder what He meant, but Judas understood. It showed him that his villainy was detected, and he would fain have retired. That was the Lord’s intention, but it would have been an open confession, and this he durst not face. He kept his place and, hiding his guilty discomfiture, let the Master wash his feet in his turn.
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When He had completed His task, the Lord returned to His couch and expounded to His shamefast disciples the lesson which He had thus enacted. “You understand what I have done to you ? You call Me ‘ the Teacher’ and ‘ the Lord/ and you say well ; for so I am. If then I have washed your feet, I the Lord and the Teacher, you too ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have given you an example, that you may do as I have done to you.” Far other this than their Jewish dream of a restored Kingdom of Israel where the Master whom they had followed in His obscurity would reign with a glory surpassing David’s or Solomon’s, and where each of them was hoping for the office of His Grand Vizier. In truth they would not lose their reward. There was a glory in store for them—not the glory which they imagined but an infinitely nobler, the glory which is reached by the path of service and sacrifice. “Which is greater—the guest at table or the servant who waits upon him ? Is it not the guest ? Yet I am as the servant among you. You it is that have stood by Me amid My trials, and I am assigning you, as My Father has assigned Me, a kingdom, that you may eat and drink at My table in My Kingdom and sit on thrones judging the twelve tribes of Israel.” It was their Master’s way that they were called to tread and His glory that they would inherit; and what better could they desire ? “If you know this, blessed are you if you do it.”
Indeed His acted parable hardly required interpretation. It was a plain comment on their unseemly contention, and it would be all the plainer since in those days “doing a thing with unwashed feet “was a [ p. 389 ] proverb for the presumption of a novice who “exercises himself in great matters and in things too high for him.” It would inevitably leap into their minds, and it would point the Master’s lesson. They had been disputing which of them would be greatest in His Kingdom, oblivious that a spirit of selfish ambition was alien from His Kingdom and while they cherished it they “had no part with Him” at all.
When He had thus discoursed, they sang the First Hallel, and surely they would recognise a new significance in the familiar strain :
“Who is as the Lord our God ? (Ps. cxiii. 5,6 LXX)
He that dwelleth on high,
He that looketh upon the lowly things
in the heaven and in the earth.”
Then the bowl went round, and they filled their cups ; and the drinking of this the third cup was followed by a solemn observance introductory to the eating of the flesh of the lamb, which was the actual feast of the Passover, all that preceded being merely preliminary. They washed their hands, and the master of the household took two unleavened cakes and, breaking one and placing the pieces on the other, thus offered thanks : “Blessed be He who bringeth forth bread from the earth.” Then he wreathed the broken bread with bitter herbs, dipped it in the charoseth, and with this further thanksgiving : “Blessed be Thou, O Lord our God, the King Eternal, who hast sanctified us by Thy commandments and commanded us to eat,” ate the bitter morsels.
More bitter than their taste was the thought that was in His heart. It was impossible for Him to [ p. 390 ] commune as He would with the faithful eleven in the traitor’s presence. His removal was imperative, but how could it be effected without frustrating the supreme end ? An open dismissal would have been a disclosure of his villainy and would have excited in his comrades’ breasts a storm of indignation. Already as He washed their feet the Lord had given him a hint that he should quietly withdraw; but he had ignored it, and He now gives him another more emphatic. “Verily, verily,” said He, “I tell you that one of you will betray Me.”
The announcement fell like a thunderbolt on their ears. They looked aghast at each other, and it proves how humbled they were by the thought of their behaviour at the outset and the Master’s subsequent rebuke that instead of suspecting one another each suspected himself and exclaimed “Can it be I ? ” The question was on every lip, and to cover his confusion Judas took it up and exclaimed with the rest “Can it be I ? ” Now picture the situation. Each reclined at table on his left side, leaning on his left elbow. Peter’s couch was behind the Master’s and John’s in front, and when the latter turned round in amazement, Peter nodded to him over the Master’s shoulder that he should ask for an explanation. John leaned back on the dear breast and whispered : “Lord, who is it ? ” “It is the man,” whispered the Lord, making a confidant of the disciple whom He loved, “for whom I shall dip the scrap and give it to him.” Then He broke off a fragment of His unleavened cake and dipped it in the charoseth and handed it to Judas. Of old it was a token of kindness when a host presented a guest with a portion from his own dish ; and [ p. 391 ] it was thus that all the disciples save John would construe the Lord’s action. They would take it as His answer to the question which those quivering lips had just faltered, “Can it be I ? ” and it would check any suspicion which they might entertain of their unhappy comrade. And indeed it was graciously intended. It was a last appeal to the traitor, and it would have rejoiced the Master had he signified even by a look that his heart was softened. But he gave no token of contrition. He accepted the morsel nonchalantly, still dissembling his guilt in the eyes of his comrades. Thus hardening his heart, he sealed his doom. “Satan,” says the Evangelist, “entered into him.” What more could the Master do ? “What
you do,” He said, “do promptly.” It was an intimation that he should be gone, and he understood. And so did John ; but the others, after that token, as they deemed it, of the Master’s confidence in their comrade, suspected nothing. Since Judas was their treasurer, they naturally conceived that He was bidding him attend to some forgotten duty of his office—the procuring of the thankoffering ( chagigah ) for the morrow or perhaps, since he was always for his own base ends so punctilious in this matter (cf. Jo. xii. 4-6), the putting of a contribution into the poor-box in the Temple-court. And so they saw nothing amiss when he rose from his couch and quitted the room.
His departure lifted a burden from the Lord’s heart. At last He was free to commune with the eleven. “Now,” He exclaimed, “is the Son of Man glorified, and God is glorified in Him ! ” and forthwith He addressed Himself to the true business of the evening. First of all He definitely apprised them of the imminent [ p. 392 ] ordeal. That very night they would witness the tragedy whereof He had repeatedly forewarned them. “You will find a stumbling-block in Me this night. For it is written : ‘I will smite the shepherd, and the sheep will be scattered’.” (Zech. xiii. 7.) It was a challenge to their resolution ; and how chivalrously He expressed it! It was not of His own suffering that He thought but of their sorrowful plight—scattered like a crowd of frightened sheep when their shepherd has been stricken down and they are left to the spoiler’s mercy ; and He cheered them with a comforting assurance : “After I am raised I will go before you to Galilee.” He must die, but He would live again, and He would meet them once more in the dear northern homeland.
The consolation, hardly intelligible at the moment, was lost upon them. They heard only the announcement of the imminent tragedy, and it grieved them especially that He should doubt their devotion. Peter broke in with a warm protest: “Though they all find a stumbling-block in you, I never shall/’ And he meant it, but he little realised his own weakness and the awfulness of the ordeal which awaited him and his comrades ; else he would never have boasted thus but would rather have prayed for strength. “Simon, Simon,” remonstrated the Master, pointedly calling him by his old name and so reminding him that only by the aid of grace could he prove stedfast, showing himself “Peter” indeed, “look you, Satan has got his will of you all to sift you like wheat; but I have prayed for you, Simon, that your faith may not fail. And you by and by when you rally, confirm you youi brothers.” “Lord,” he [ p. 393 ] asseverated, “I am ready to go with you to prison and to death.”
The Master let it pass and continued His interrupted discourse. “My children,” said He tenderly, “a little longer am I with you. You will seek and what I said to the Jews—‘ Where I am going, you cannot come’—I now tell you too (Cf. Jo. vii. 34, viii. 21). A new commandment I give you : that you love one another—that you love one another as I have loved you. By this will every one recognise that you are My disciples—if you have love one for another.”
Here again Peter broke in. “Lord,” he cried, “where are you going ?” “Where I am going,” answered Jesus, “you cannot now follow Me, but you will follow Me afterwards.” “Lord,” insisted Peter, fancying that the Master had some desperate adventure in view, “why cannot I follow you at once ? I will lay down my life for you.” Brave, loving heart, so little recking of its own weakness and the terror of , the ordeal! “You will lay down your life for Me ? Verily, verily I tell you, ere cock-crow you will deny Me time and again.” “Though I must die with you,” persisted Peter, “I shall not deny you.” And the others murmured their assent.
The Master compassionately surveyed their troubled faces. Their wild talk of desperate resistance showed how they still clung to their Jewish idea of the Messiah’s Kingdom and how little they had yet profited by His teaching; and He essayed to bring its folly, home to them (Mt. x. 9,10; Mk. vi. 8,9; Lk. ix. 3). “When I sent you forth,” said He, “without purse and wallet and sandals, did you lack anything ?” “Nothing,” they [ p. 394 ] acknowledged. That had been their commission when they went forth as heralds of His Kingdom “like sheep in the midst of wolves” ; and they had proved its efficacy (Mt. x. 16; Lk. x. 3.). “But now,” says He, “one who has a purse, let him take it, and a wallet likewise ; and one who has none, let him sell his cloak and buy a sword!” Was this to be their commission now—now when the Gospel which He had charged them to proclaim was finding its fulfilment in His sacrificial death ? “For I tell you that this which is written must be accomplished in Me, ‘He was reckoned with the lawless.’ (Is. liii. 12)
Yes, My destiny is having its accomplishment.” They missed His meaning and took Him literally. So menacing had the situation grown that, notwithstanding that the bearing of arms on the Passover-day was prohibited (Jo. xviii. 10), two of them— Peter being one—had with them the poor weapons which, in those days when the highways were infested by brigands, travellers carried for defence ; and these they displayed. “Lord,” said they, “look, here are two swords.” (cf. Dt. iii. 26) Vexed by their dul26 * ness, He dismissed the matter. “Enough !” said He, and proceeded with the administration of the Supper
They had now come to the supreme act of the celebration—the eating of the lamb’s flesh ; and as they were eating it, the Master took a cake of unleavened bread and blessed it. Then He broke it and handed a portion to each of His disciples. “This,” said He, “is My body sacrificed for you. This do in memory of Me.” The eating of the lamb’s flesh was the paschal supper, and thereafter nothing more was eaten ; but [ p. 395 ] ere the company sang the Second Hallel and dispersed, they drank a last cup which, because it was accompanied with thanksgiving, was called “The Cup of Blessing.” (cf. 1 Cor. x. 16) And so it is written that “after the supper” the Master “took a cup,” His own cup, and filled it, and after thanksgiving He passed round the bowl. “This cup,” said He, “is the New Covenant sealed with My blood. (cf. Ex. xxiv. 8) This do, every time you drink it, in memory of Me.”
Thus He instituted His sacramental memorial; and ere they sang the Hallel He cheered them with loving discourse. “Let not your heart be troubled,” He began. “Believe in God, and believe in Me.” It is not enough merely to believe in God. We must believe in Him aright; and we never believe in Him aright until we believe in the Lord Jesus Christ and see God revealed in Him as our Heavenly Father. To believe in God thus and be assured that we are compassed in life and death and eternity by a love like the love of Jesus is to be done with doubt and fear. “Let not your heart be troubled. Believe in God, and believe in Me.”
What was troubling the hearts of the eleven was His intimation that He was leaving them—leaving them that very night; and now He cheers them by showing them what His departure really meant, what gain it would bring them, and what heavenly consolations they would enjoy. “In My Father’s House,” He says, “there are many abodes: if there were not, I would have told you. I am going to prepare room for you. And if I go and prepare room for you, I am coming again and will receive you unto Myself, that where I am, you too may be.”
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It is a parable, and a little explanation will disclose its beautiful significance. Look at that word “abodes.” Our English Version has “mansions,” which is in truth not a translation at all. It is merely a transliteration of mansiones , the Vulgate’s Latin rendering ; and while mansiones exactly represents the Greek term (monai ), its English derivative “mansions,” suggesting as it does a stately and permanent residence, conveys an entirely wrong idea. Wycliffe, followed by Beza, has “in ye hous of my fadir ben many dwellyngis” ; and it would have been well had our translators followed him too, since “dwellings” is at all events less positively misleading than “mansions.” Yet even this misses the idea. The Greek term like the Latin means an “abode” or “abiding-place” ; but we shall miss our Lord’s meaning unless we understand that “abode” and its cognate verb “abide” had a peculiar signification in His day. There is a clear example in St. Luke’s (xix 1-10) story Zacchceus, where it is written that, as He was passing through Jericho that Sabbath eve, our Lord said to the despised taxgatherer : “I must abide at your house,” asking merely entertainment for the night. There is the proper signification of the word. It meant “lodge,” like a weary traveller in a wayside inn or an hospitable house. And so with the noun “abode.” It was used of a traveller’s station on the road or the encampment of an army on the march.
See how the thought befits the passage before us. Scripture is its own best interpreter, and the most illuminating commentary here is the story of our Lord’s birth at Bethlehem.(Lk. ii. 4-7) It was [ p. 397 ] late in the day when Joseph and Mary reached “the inn.” Think how an eastern caravanserai was constructed. Entering the gateway, you would find yourself in an open courtyard, where the beasts— asses, camels, and oxen—were tethered, surrounded along the inner wall with apartments for the travellers. These were the “abodes” or “lodgings.” Commonly there was ample accommodation; but on special occasions when the highways were busy, a traveller arriving late might find every abode tenanted, and then he must sleep in the open or push on through the darkness. So it would often have happened to our Lord and His disciples in their journeyings to and fro ; and so it happened to Joseph and Mary on that memorable evening. Every abode was occupied, and there was nothing for it but that she should lie down in the courtyard among the cattle. And there “she brought forth her first-born son and laid Him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.”
Here is the parable—His parable of the Wayside Inn—wherewith the Lord comforted His forlorn disciples in the Upper Room : “I am leaving you, but I am not forsaking you. I am only going on before to make ready for you. In My Father’s House there are many abodes : I am going to prepare a room for you. There will be room for you when you arrive, and a welcome too ; for I will be there, waiting and watching for you, and I will come out to meet you and bring you in.” (Cf. Lk. ii. 7)
“I go your entrance to secure.
And your abode prepare ;
Regions unknown are safe to you
When I, your Friend, am there.”
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“Where I am, you too will be,” He had said; and, reading a question in their faces, He added: “and where I am going, you know the way.” “Lord,” said Thomas, “we know not where you are going: how know we the way ?” “I am the way,” He answered, “and the truth and the life.” What is this but a repetition of that saying which they had already heard from His lips six months ago in the court of the Temple (Jo. viii. 12.): “One who follows Me shall not walk in the darkness but will have the light of life” ? and it would be no dark saying to them now. He had come from the Father and He was now going to the Father; and if they recognised this, then they knew the way home, and if they followed Him they would not miss it
This they could understand, but it puzzled them when He added : “Had you recognised Me, you had known the Father too ; and henceforth you recognise Him and have seen Him.” “Lord,” cried Philip, “show us the Father, and it is all we want.” The appeal grieved the Master. It proved that Philip and, alas ! the others too had never yet perceived the wonder which all those three years had been before their eyes, and never yet realised who He was—the Eternal Son of God Incarnate, one with the Eternal Cf. jo. Father in character and thought and purpose,
so truly one that to know Him was to know the Father. “Have I been so long a time with you,” He remonstrated, “and have you not recognised Me, Philip ? One who has seen Me has seen the Father: how say you, ‘ Show us the Father’ ?” His words and works had been all divine, and they had missed their [ p. 399 ] significance if they had not recognised their evidence of His oneness with the Father.
Their dulness disappointed Him, but with this gentle remonstrance He brushed aside His disappointment and resumed His gracious task of consolation. He was indeed leaving them, but His departure did not mean that His ministry was ended. In truth it had but begun. For He was leaving them, His Apostles, to carry it on ; and if only they were faithful to their commission, they would do not merely the works which He had done but works yet greater. And that for two reasons. One was that they would still have access to Him by prayer; and the second was that when He was gone, Another would come in His room to be to them and do for them all that He had been and done. That other was the Holy Spirit, but the Master does not so name Him here. He calls Him “the Paraclete,” and it is not a little unfortunate that our English Versions have rendered this “the Comforter.” Only here in the Lord’s farewell discourse to the eleven is it employed in the New Testament of the Holy Spirit; but it recurs in the First Epistle of St. John, with a significance which will by and by appear, as a designation of the Glorified Saviour (ii. 1). And there it is rendered “Advocate.” So it should be rendered here too : “I will ask the Father, and another Advocate will He give you, even the Spirit of truth.”
It was a novel name for the Holy Spirit, but it was no strange word to the disciples. It was a Greek word, a legal term denoting the “advocate ” who pleads a prisoner’s cause before the judge’s tribunal, answering the charge of his “accuser ” ; and like many [ p. 400 ] other Greek words these correlative terms had been borrowed by the Rabbis and are employed religiously in the Talmud. Thus it is written : “He who does one commandment has got him one ‘ advocate ’ (paraclete) ; and he who has committed one transgression, has got him one ‘ accuser.’ Repentance and good works are as a shield in the face of punishment.” Why was not our Lord content to speak of the Holy Spirit? The reason is that, in accordance with the rigid monotheism of the Old Testament revelation, that phrase signified to Jewish minds merely a divine influence. The personality of the Holy Spirit is a Christian revelation, and it was to express this that our Lord employed the novel designation. See how He here affirms the Spirit’s personality, calling Him “another Advocate,” His own Successor. During the years of His earthly sojourn our Lord had been the Advocate—God’s Advocate pleading His cause with men and seeking to win them to faith ; and now that He is gone God has still His Advocate on earth— the Holy Spirit who came in the Lord’s room and continues evermore from age to age His gracious importunity.
And not merely would the Holy Spirit continue His work of pleading with the world but, the Lord assures His disciples, as His Successor He would be to themselves all that He had been to them while He was with them. If only they remained faithful, His grace would illumine their souls and reveal to them what heavenly fellowships were theirs. “In that day you will recognise that I am in My Father and you in Me and I in you. One who has My commandments and keeps them, he it is that loves Me ; and one who loves [ p. 401 ] Me will be loved by My Father, and I will love him and manifest Myself to him.”
“Lord,” broke in Judas—not, explains the Evangelist, the Man of Kerioth but the son of James, better known by his epithets Lebbaeus, “the Hearty/’ and Thaddaeus, “the Affectionate”—“Lord, and what has come to pass that you are going to manifest yourself to us and not to the world ?” For the disciples their Master’s “manifestation” signified that consummation which, in accordance with their Jewish idea, they had at the first so confidently anticipated though of late it had been fading from their view— the casting aside of His lowly guise and the revealing of His rightful majesty as the King of Israel (Cf. Jo. vii. 4). It would have been glad tidings to them, reviving their wellnigh extinct hope, had He spoken of “manifesting Himself to the world” ; but when He spoke of manifesting Himself merely to them, Judas wondered what He might mean.
It grieved the Lord that they should still be clinging thus to that vain ideal. “If one love Me,” said He, completing His interrupted promise, “he will keep My word, and My Father will love him, and we will come to him and make abode with him.” Observe how He repeats that word “abode ” which He had just employed in His parable of the Wayside Inn. Long ago in days of national desolation the prophet had prayed : “O Thou Hope of Israel, the Saviour thereof in the time of trouble, why shouldest Thou be as a sojourner in the land, and as a wayfaring man that turneth aside to tarry for a night ? ” (Jer. xiv. 8) Surely that poignant entreaty was now before the Master’s mind, and He answers it here. [ p. 402 ] The disciples were dreaming of an earthly Kingdom, and He tells them that it is not thus that God will dwell with His people. It is ever “as a sojourner” that He comes to them here, “as a wayfaring man that turneth aside to tarry for a night.” This is not their home; and when He comes to them it is not to stay with them but to carry them with Him on the homeward journey. “Arise ye,” is His command, “and depart; for this is not your rest” ; and if they would retain His fellowship, they must bear Him company.
“Oh ! well it is for ever,
Oh ! well for evermore.
My nest hung in no forest
Of all this death-doomed shore :
Yea, let the vain world vanish.
As from the ship the strand.
While glory, glory dwelleth
In Immanuel’s land.”
At the moment the truth was hidden from them, but they would presently discover it. “All this have I spoken to you while sojourning with you; but the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in My name, He will teach you it all and bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you. Peace I leave you ; peace, My peace, I give you. Not as the world gives, do I give it you.” For how is it that the world offers peace ? Either it appeals to that instinctive optimism, that hope which “springs eternal in the human breast,” that our trouble will pass; or at the worst it bids us play the Stoic and set adversity at defiance. But the peace which our Lord offers, and not merely offers but bestows, is a peace which [ p. 403 ] is ours in the midst of trouble. It is His own peace, the peace which dwelt in His heart all the years of His progress through the world and was with Him still in that last dark hour—a peace bom not of the Stoicism which sternly accepts the inevitable but of the faith which recognises in each painful experience a Father’s will and a Father’s hand. “Not as the world gives, do I give it you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be fearful.”
It was now midnight, and at midnight the paschal supper ended. The reason is that it was at midnight that the destroying angel had passed through the land of Egypt, and hence the idea had arisen among the Jews that it would be midnight when the Messiah (cf. Ex. xi. 4, xii. 29), their Deliverer, appeared. And so, that they might welcome Him should He appear, they protracted the feast till midnight and then dispersed. The hour’s arrival was welcome to our Lord, since at any moment the traitor and the officers of the Sanhedrin might break into the room and arrest Him; and though He had said so much to the eleven, there was more that He had still to say. “Rise !” said He. “Let us go hence.” And when they had sung the Second Hallel, they took their departure.(Ps. cxv-cxviii.)