LESSON COMMENTS

Seventh-day Adventist Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Jun 9, 1881

LESSON FOR PACIFIC COAST.—JUNE 11. Christ's Testimony Concerning John the Baptist. Luke 7:25-50; Matt. 11:12-15; Luke 16:16.

LESSON COMMENTS.

After the disciples of John had departed, Jesus addressed the multitude concerning John, "What went ye out into the wilderness for to see? A reed shaken with the wind?" Jesus knew that a reed trembling in the wind was the very opposite of John's character. John could not be moved by flattery, nor be deceived by prevailing errors. Neither could he be turned aside from the work he came to do, by rewards or worldly honors. He would preserve his integrity at the expense of his life. Steadfast as a rock, stood the prophet of God, faithful to rebuke sin and crime in all their forms, in kings and nobles, as readily as in the unhonored and unknown. He swerved not from duty. Loyal to his God, in noble dignity of moral character, he stood firm as a rock, faithful to principle.

"But what went ye out for to see? A man clothed in soft raiment? Behold they that wear soft clothing are in kings' houses." The people whom Christ addressed well knew that the apparel worn by John was the opposite of that worn in royal palaces. Christ virtually asked: What motive induced you to flock to the wilderness to hear the preaching of John? The wilderness is not the place to find those who live delicately, and who clothe themselves in rich, soft apparel. Christ wished them to observe the contrast between the clothing of John and that of the Jewish priests. The prophet wore a plain, rough garment, possessing no beauty, but answering the purpose for which clothing was first designed. In marked contrast to the garments of John, was the gorgeous apparel of the Jewish priests and elders.

These officials, thinking that they would be reverenced in accordance with their external appearance, adopted great splendor of dress, making a rich display of costly robes and dazzling breastplates. They were more anxious to win the admiration of men than to obtain spotless purity of character and holiness of life, that would gain the approval of God. Christ admonished his disciples, and also the multitude, to follow that which was good in the teachings of the scribes and Pharisees, but not to imitate their wrong examples, nor be deceived by their ambitious pretensions.—Spirit of Prophecy.

A Pharisee of the name of Simon, who seems to have been in good social position, had met with Jesus in some of the Galilæan towns, and had been so attracted by him that he invited him to his house, to eat with him. This was a mark of high consideration from one of a party so strict, for a Pharisee was as careful as a Brahmin is, with whom he ate. Defilement was temporary loss of caste, and neutralized long-continued effort to attain a higher grade of legal purity, and it lurked, in a thousand forms, behind the simplest acts of daily life and intercourse. To invite one who was neither a Pharisee, nor a member of even the lowest grade of legal guilds, was amazing liberality in a Jewish precisian. It would seem as if the courtesy had already excited timid fear of having gone too far, when Jesus accepted the invitation,—and had given place to a cold patronizing condescension, which fancied it had conferred, rather than received, an honor by his presence.

In the earlier ages of the nation it had been the habit to sit at meals on mats, with the feet crossed beneath the body, as at present in the East—round a low table—now, only about a foot in height. But the foreign custom of reclining on cushions, long in use among the Persians, Greeks, and Romans, had been introduced into Palestine apparently as early as the days of Amos, and had become general in those of Christ. Raised divans, or table couches, provided with cushions and arranged on three sides of a square, supplied a rest for guests, and on these they lay on their left arm, with their feet at ease behind them, outside. The place of honor was at the upper end of the right side, which had no one above it, while all below could easily lean back on the bosom of the person immediately behind. Hospitality among the poor was prefaced by various courtesies and attentions to the guest, more or less peculiar to the nation. To enter a house except with bare feet was much the same as our doing so without removing the hat, and, therefore, all shoes and sandals were taken off, and left at the threshold. A kiss on the cheek, from the master of the house, with the invocation "The Lord be with you," conveyed a formal welcome, and was followed, on the guest taking his place on the couch, by a servant bringing water and washing the feet, to cool and refresh them, as well as to remove the dust of the road and give ceremonial cleanness. The host himself, or one of his servants, next anointed the head and beard of the guests with fragrant oil, attention to the hair being a great point with Orientals. Before eating, water was again brought to wash the hands, as the requirements of legal purity demanded, and from the fact that the food was taken by dipping the fingers, or a piece of bread, in a common dish. "To wash the hands before a meal," says the Talmud, "is a command; to do so during eating is left matter of choice, but, to wash them after it, is a duty."

With all Jews, but especially with scrupulous formalists like the Pharisees, religious observances formed a marked feature in every entertainment, however humble, and as these were duly prescribed by the Rabbis, we are able to picture a meal like that given to Jesus by Simon. Houses in the East are far from enjoying the privacy we prize so highly. Even at this time, the strangers pass in and out at their pleasure, to see the guests, and join in conversation with them and with the host. Among those who did so in Simon's house, was one at whose presence in his dwelling, under any circumstances, he must have been equally astonished and disturbed. Silently gliding into the chamber, perhaps to the seat round the wall, came a woman, though women could not with propriety meet at such entertainments. She was, moreover, unveiled, which, in itself, was contrary to recognized rules. In the little town every one was known, and Simon saw, at the first glance, that she was no other than one known to the community as a poor fallen woman. She was evidently in distress, but he had no eyes or heart for such a consideration. She had compromised his respectability, and his frigid self-righteousness could think only of itself. To eat with publicans or sinners was the sum of all evils to a Pharisee. It was the approach of one under moral quarantine, whose very neighborhood was disastrous, and yet, here she was, in his own house.

A tenderer heart than his, however, knew the deeper aspects of her case, and welcomed her approach. She had listened to the words of Jesus, perhaps to his invitation to the weary and heavy-laden to come to him for rest, and was bowed down with penitent shame and contrition, which were the promise of a new and purer life. Lost, till now, to self-respect, an outcast for whom no one cared, she had found in him that there was a friend of sinners, who beckoned even the most hopeless to take shelter by his side. In him and his words hope had returned, and in his respect for her womanhood, though fallen, quickening self-respect had been once more awakened in her bosom. She might yet be saved from her degradation; might yet retrace her steps from pollution and sorrow, to a pure life and peace of mind. What could she do but seek the presence of one who had won her back from ruin? What could she do but express her lowly gratitude for the sympathy He alone had shown; the belief in the possibility of her restoration that had itself restored her!

The object of her visit was not, however, long a mystery. Kneeling down behind Jesus, she proceeded to anoint his feet with fragrant ointment, but as she was about to do so, her tears fell on them so fast that she was fain to wipe them with her long hair, which, in her distress, had escaped its fastenings. To anoint the head was the usual course, but she would not venture on such an honor, and would only make bold to anoint his feet. Unmindful of her disorder, which Simon coldly noted as an additional shame, she could think only of her benefactor. Weeping and wiping away the tears, and covering the feet with kisses, her heart gave itself vent till it was calmed enough to let her anoint them, and, meanwhile, Jesus left her to her lowly, loving will.

The Pharisee was horrified. That a Rabbi should allow such a woman, or, indeed, any woman, to approach him, was contrary to all the traditions, but it was incredibly worse in one whom the people regarded as a prophet. He would not speak aloud, but his looks showed his thoughts. "This man, if he were a prophet, would have known what kind of woman this is that touches him, for she is a sinner."

Jesus saw what was passing in his mind, and turning to him, requested an answer to a question. "There was a certain creditor," said he, "who had two debtors. The one owed him five hundred pence, the other fifty. And when they had nothing to pay, he frankly forgave them both. Tell me, therefore, which of them will love him most?" Utterly unconscious of the bearing of these words on himself, the Pharisee readily answered that he supposed he to whom the creditor forgave most, would love him most. "Thou hast rightly judged," replied Jesus. Then, like Nathan with David, he proceeded to bring the parable home to his conscience.

Turning to the weeping, penitent woman at his feet, and pointing to her, he continued, "Simon, seest thou this woman? I entered into thine house; thou gavest me no water for my feet, as even courtesy demanded; but she has washed my feet with tears, and wiped them with her hair. Thou gavest me no kiss; but this woman, since the time I entered, has not ceased to kiss my feet tenderly. Thou didst not anoint my head with oil; but she has anointed my feet with ointment. I say unto thee, therefore, her sins, which are many, are forgiven, for she loved much, but one to whom little is forgiven, loves little." Then addressing the sobbing woman herself, he told her, "Thy sins are forgiven. Thy faith has saved thee: go in peace!"—Geikie's Life of Christ.