01.02. CHAPTER II - THE TABLE-TALK OF JESUS

CHAPTER II - THE TABLE-TALK OF JESUS The table-talk of great men is always fascinating. It is supposed to be the measure of a man when he is among his friends and can speak unhindered by fear of misunderstanding or failure to appreciate. It is years since I read the table talk of Martin Luther; from it I gained a new idea of the great throbbing heart and the human interest of that great leader of the Protestant Reformation. To another generation the table talk of Hazlitt was full of literary surprises and nuggets of wisdom, the depository of much that would otherwise have been lost to the world, and the loss of which would have made the world poorer. The master reporter of table-talk is Boswell. It is Boswell who gave Samuel Johnson to the world. One hardly knows at times which to admire the most the stern old philosopher or the loving scribe, who sets apples of gold in pictures of silver. We like to know what men thought it worth while to talk about to their friends, what were the values that they held to be supreme. When there was no reason to trim one’s sails to social, political or ecclesiastical trade winds, how did they sail their crafts?

Perhaps there is no remark of Daniel Webster’s more frequently quoted than the one he is said to have made at a table where distinguished friends had gathered. One asked, “What is the most important question you were ever called upon to consider?” His questioner may have thought of the great legal and political questions which had been submitted to the great lawyer.

He may have had in mind some of the grave questions concerning our Republic, but Mr. Webster, running his eye down the table, asked, “Are there any outsiders here?” “No, sir, all are your friends.” With deepest solemnity of manner the great man said, “The most important question that ever engaged my mind is that of my personal responsibility to Almighty God.”

I am sure the world is agreed that of all the table-talk which has been caught by devout disciples from the lips of statesmen and philosophers and passed on to a listening and adoring multitude, none is so full of meaning or read with such rapt attention as that which fell from His lips who spoke as never man spake. We have some of His words reported to us by His friends.

How we long for the thousands that must have dropped by the wayside, or at the morning or evening meal. What a sweet hyperbole is that of John, “And there are also many other things which Jesus did, which if they should be written every one, I suppose that even the world itself could not contain the books which would be written. “ If the world today could find some new word which He thus spoke to His disciples, its presses would run night and day until every last citizen could have another message from His lips.

Parables like those which now gladden the world must have fallen without stint from His blessed lips. A few of them have been preserved for us and make us rich indeed, Jesus was a famous diner-out. His enemies charged upon him, that while John came as an ascetic, Jesus was “a glutton and a wine bibber.”

You do not think of it in that fashion, but close examination will impress one with the humor of Jesus. Who can read His parables, if he reads with discrimination, without a smile; and then how intense He was. “If your eye offend you, pluck it out”; “if your hand offend you, cut it off.” Go drown yourself rather than say a word that shall offend one of these little ones. And what paradoxes were His! He that would save his life shall lose it. He that would lose his life shall save it. It was the heart of the man that was thrilling in all His table-talk. It was the love of His soul, the zeal that was burning and fairly consuming Him that manifests itself here. His whole life could be epitomized in the single sentence “He had a passion for saving the lost.” And at these wonderful dinner parties, this message thrills ont. The table-talks of Jesus are not an interlude to His passion, they are a part of it. They are introduced here to show that in the most intimate social relations in life one thought is ever uppermost. He never temporized; He never kept the yearning of His heart out of sight. Whether He talked with Pharisee, or Sadducee, or publican, or sinner, in public or in the privacy of their own home, before the interview was over He had told them in some form the one glorious fact that was epitomized in Him “I am come that ye might have life and that ye might have it more abundantly.” The table-talks of Jesus are such talks as a father might give with his arm around the neck of a thoughtless or a sinning child. This was what He meant when He said, “ Whoso hath seen me hath seen the Father.”

Here are two dinner parties that we may first consider. After Matthew, the publican, was called from Ms disreputable profession, he did a rather brave thing. He gave a farewell dinner to his old friends in office to celebrate his going away, and he invited Jesus. I suppose he wanted the old comrades to see what sort of a man He was to whom he had given his allegiance, and it may be that he had hopes the Master’s presence and love would do for them what it had done for him. One almost wonders at the courage of Matthew to invite the friends of the old life to meet the One who had led him to the new.

Matthew must have been satisfied that his old friends would feel at home with Him and he knew that whatever Jesus said would be said with a kindly heart, with no sense of aloofness, and least of all with any sense of the attitude of the Pharisee. What do you suppose the scribes and Pharisees, the members of the church, the high-toned leaders of Capernaum said when they heard of it? Do you wonder that they attacked His disciples and said, “Why eateth your Master with publicans and sinners f What does He have in common with them?” You would not expect in our time a lot of grafters and men of doubtful reputation to be especially eager to meet the Archbishop of Canterbury or the Greek Primate. In whatever talks Jesus had with Matthew before and he must have had many of them we do not know what approaches He made, or what Matthew said, but at last He came one day to the tax gatherers’ office and said unto him, “Follow me.” Matthew must have leaped with delight to think that all he had done that was selfish and evil was so thoroughly forgotten or forgiven that Jesus wanted him to be with Him, and when he heard that call he left all and followed Him. I suppose Matthew never forgot his old business and the stigma which went with it. I confess there is a tug at my heart as I see where this humble disciple, when he wrote the list of the apostles, put in his own name and did not forget to round it out by saying “And Matthew, the publican.”

Much that He said there we have no record of, but with such a company and with such a host, we know almost as well as if it were written down, what He would have said. We know His stainless purity would humble them, but we know also His infinite yearning would make itself manifest, so that they would see He loved them so that He was willing to die for them. That was why publicans and sinners drew near to hear Him, that was why the common people heard Him gladly. He opened His heart to them. He told them of His love. You remember how Jesus answered the Pharisees who murmured because He had gone to Levi’s house, “They that are whole need not the physician, but they that are sick. I came not to call the righteous but the sinners to repentance.”

Then there was another dinner. This time He is invited to a Pharisee’s house. It was after a busy day that Jesus had an evening engagement to dine with Simon, the Pharisee. That dinner has been heard of throughout the world, not because of the palace in which it was served and not because of the courses which crowded the table, but simply because of one broken-hearted woman who was a sinner and who intruded herself upon the feast.

It looks as if she had met Him before and that she had already some cause for gratitude. Can you not picture her you who have seen her like in the great city? Do you not understand why she came there? Can you not see the pictures of the days of innocence, which floated before her eyes, maybe of a home of prayer; of an anxious father and mother from whom she had turned; of the promises made to them which she had broken; of the promises made to her which others had broken? And so the poor girl with broken heart and broken life steals in to the feast.

Whether she had told Him her story before or not, we do not know. Whether she had heard that wonderful story of the lost boy, we cannot tell, but at any rate, in some way, hope stirs in her heart and a changed life stretches before her, pointed out by the tender love of the Man who sits there at the feast. Her attitude is not one of importunity, it is rather one of passionate gratitude for something already granted her.

Maybe she is just leaving Capernaum to go back to her mother and begin a new life, and this is her last chance of showing her love. You picture the scene the guests reclining on couches around the board, their feet resting on cushions, and then this poor woman throwing herself with passionate sobbing at the feet of the Master. The veil is off her face and the fastenings from her hair.

If anything was necessary, these are the things which tell of her life. An alabaster box of ointment she pours on His feet and with her glorious hair she wipes them and presses her lips on them with adoring devotion. Of course everybody is disturbed. Simon is courteous and condescending to his guest. The neighbors are saying, “This prophet must have known about the woman. Why does He let her touch him!” Simon’s thoughts are plainly stamped upon his face. And now listen, ’ ’ Simon, I have somewhat to say to thee.” With some restraint and rather sadly, Simon says, “Rabbi, say on.” And then comes the story of the big debtor and the small one and how the gracious creditor forgave them both, and the query which of the two loved the giver most. We hear Simon saying, “That does not interest me, but I presume the one to whom he forgave most.” Now Simon, it is your turn. It may be the Master’s hand crept down his seamless robe and rested upon the head of the penitent, “I would not have mentioned it, Simon, but when I came to your house, you did not even offer me water for my feet; but this woman has wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You gave me no kiss of greeting, but she, from the time I came in, has not ceased to kiss my feet. My head with oil you did not anoint, but she hath anointed my feet with ointment. Wherefore I say unto you, her sins which are many, are forgiven, for she loved much; but to whom little is forgiven, the same loveth little.” Is there any story that shows more tenderly the yearning of the Master’s heart?

There are many who identify this woman with Mary Magdalen, and that fact is “imbedded in centuries of Christian art and literature,*’ and the name will always persist as a synonym for a fallen hut penitent woman. If it is true, is it not a beautiful and thrilling thing to see how the devotion of that once abandoned woman never failed by so much as a jot until the end? She was one of the few who saw Him die on Calvary, and regardless of the contumely and insult which might be heaped upon her, she followed His body to the grave and was the first at the sepulchre on the glorious Easter morning. With agonizing heart, she cries to him whom she took to be the gardener; “Sir, if thou hast borne Him hence, tell me where and I will take Him away,” and with the same voice that at first spoke peace to her repentant soul, her Lord spoke the one word 4 * Mary! ’ ’ Nobody else ever said it that way; into no other voice could such pure and tender solicitude be pressed. In an instant she knew the glad truth that her Lord was risen, and she fell at His feet crying, “My Master, my Master!”

How anybody could think of that dinner in the house of Simon, the Pharisee, and what the Master said, and all that flowed out of it and still remain indifferent to those who long for the saving grace which comes from unstinted love must surely pass human knowledge. It is a heart of stone that can remain stolid, when he thinks of what happened and how the joy of it never faded away, but was crowned with glory on the resurrection morning. Small wonder that when Renan was looking around for someone whom he could make responsible for a resurrection which he wished to deny, he should have cried, “Divine power of love, sacred moments in which the passion of an hallucinated woman gives to the world a resurrected God!” Is it strange that Renan’s book and his theories were buried with him, while the whole Christian world stands in adoring wonder at Mary’s side?

It was at another Pharisee’s table that He smote the heart of the cold and proud by telling of those who give tithes of what amounts to nothing the mint and anise and cummin and neglect the mightier matters of the law. When His host complains that he had not performed the usual ablution, He showed the folly of those who were more anxious to have clean hands than clean hearts, who looked at the outside of the cup but paid no attention to the filth that was within.

It was at the table of Simon, the leper, that another Mary showed a love without bound or limit, born in homely fellowship, perfected at her brother ’s grave. Perhaps the cap of the alabaster box refused to open, and in her haste she broke the box and poured the ointment, fit for a king 1, upon the head she loved.

It was when the utilitarian spirit flared out, as it has done in all the days since; it was when those who take no account of love and sacrifice and holy ideals but who weigh everything on the scales of self-interest and measure everything by worldly standards it was when such people were taking all merit out of a noble act and making it only an impetuous movement of an ill-balanced mind, that Jesus lifted this little woman upon a pedestal so high that all the world will see her till the crack of doom! Can anybody have any question as to what Jesus thinks of uncalculating service? Can anybody ever think of offering Jesus anything but their best after this? There it stands; let it never be blotted out. Let it be written on the fleshly tablet of every devoted heart that is willing to pay the price that his Lord demands “Verily I say unto you, wheresoever this gospel shall be preached throughout the whole world, there shall also this, that this woman hath done, be told for a memorial of her. ’ ’ There is at least one pedestal in the temple of fame which God has set up that will never be vacant. With reverence let us muse upon the reason!

Those who are troubled by many things, who are examples of what Emerson said, * ’ Things are in the saddle and they ride mankind/* let them stand behind the Master at Martha’s simple feast.

’ ’ Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus. ’ ’

Three different types. The anxious housekeeper, with a sense of responsibility, who brings things to pass, a good manager, a capable woman who has to be responsible for things. Here is one type of those who hide their own feelings and never like to see others express theirs. Sentiment does not appeal to her and she is quite inclined to take to task any whom she calls mystical, emotional, sentimental. Martha has her good points, may she never disappear from the family. The wheels of daily life would drive heavily without her. “When her dear old hands are folded, more tears will be shed for her possibly than she has shed for others, but if Martha can only understand the gentle reproof of the Saviour, she will know that the sister whom she calls a dreamer, who indulges in holy contemplation, and nourishes a devout soul, is one of the pure in heart who see (rod and are thereby the more lovable. “She hath chosen the good part which shall not be taken from her.” Let Martha and Mary twine their arms around each other. They will each be the stronger for the other’s presence. Jesus says, “Don’t fret, Martha, put the first things first, and all things shall work together for good.” As for Lazarus, for whom the feast is given, from him we hear nothing. Paterson Smith recalls the suggestion that he was the young rulei who once made the great refusal, whom Jesus beholding loved and kissed him on the brow. Perhaps that is not true, but at any rate, Jesus loved him with the yearning of a great heart, and Martha and Mary knew that as much as He loved them, Lazarus was preeminent, for they named him to Jesus, “Him whom thou lovest.” From that dinner table may the love which gives each heart its place around the family board be passed to every home! Of all the Master’s words at table, surely none were so precious as those He spoke at the last supper, when He was host himself. He and His disciples knew it was the last talk He would have with them before He faced the tragedy which they could neither appreciate nor understand. We are minded of a scene three hundred years before when the sacred ship had come back from Delos and the eleven had stricken off his chains that Socrates might drink the fatal hemlock, and his jailer was saying, “He was the gentlest and best that ever came here. ’ ’ But beautiful as was that scene against the clear blue of the Grecian sky and beautiful as was that cheery message of him who was going out upon a great adventure, this is an hour before which all other human farewells shine with a lessening ray.

Since there were no servants to do it, Jesus had washed His disciples 7 feet and said to them, “He that would be chief among you, let him be the servant of all.*’ Judas has gone out “and it was night. “What does he say as a pattern for all those hours when the disciples talk together? The one word which is in the air when words can be but few, the one word which rolls in infinite reiteration from His lips is the word which was the center of His life and of His kingdom “Love.” Here is a new command ’ ’ That ye love one another as I have loved you.” Here is the measure of your discipleship “Ye are my disciples if ye love one another. The* measure of your love for me will be the measure of your union with me. If ye love me, ye will keep my commandments.” And then He falls to talking about the same thing that Socrates talked about, only with an assurance and depth of meaning which Socrates never knew, and with good reason.

We are inclined to say with Philip of Spain, who, when asked if he had noticed the eclipse, said, “No, I am so busy with things down here that I have no time to look up.” There are many who are restive at any word concerning the future life. Not so Jesus. He revelled in it. His last table-talk was pitched to the tune of it “Let not your heart be troubled. I am going away from you. In my Father’s house are many mansions.

I am going to prepare a home for you and we are all of us going to be there. Here you will be lonely and you will be troubled, but I shall be thinking of you and waiting for you.”

If we could live on here without headache or heartache; if we could feel no want and know no poverty; if no bitter words were spoken, and no unkindly acts done; if nobody grew old, and love was never disappointed; if no red flag ever waved, and the sexton never plied his spade, what a world this would be! But Jesus said over the table at the last supper, “I am going to get a place like that ready for you.”

Sam Johnson said he didn’t like Wesley, for just as he got his legs under the table for a long talk, Wesley would run off to see some old woman who was in want. Here the days and nights of friendship are short. Here we cry, “All hail,” and in the next instant, “Good-by. It is time to go.” Jesus said that His was a land of perfect fellowship, and there was never to be any night with its darkness and separation. We say, “I shall always be thinking of you,” but Jesus said more; He said, “I shall always be with you.

You will not see me, but I will be there, closer than breathing, nearer than hands and feet. The Holy Spirit, one with me and the Father, will walk and talk with you. He will lead you into the paths of truth. He will be your comforter in trouble, your wisdom in ignorance, and will bring you safely through. Lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world.”

After that they sang a song His song but the message of it all was “ death does not make any difference with love.” We can say to those to whom our hearts are bound, “Thee I loved always, I love still but thee, And thee will I love Through eternity.”

Death is only crossing a seam in the carpet, passing through an open door. Here and there and always, love never faileth. These are the messages which fell from His lips when He who spake as never man spake, talked with His friends and with the world out of His heart. Do you not feel the passion of them and do they not awake an answering passion in your own soul?