Section III

the banquet at Bethany, and the anointing. the betrayal

(Mat 26:6-16; Mar 14:3-11; Luk 22:1-6; Joh 12:1-11)

In the Old Testament arrangement of life, the work-days precede the rest-days; the holiday is earned, and is therefore only a lawful repose. In the New Testament arrangement, on the contrary, the Sundays precede the work-days, not only in the ordering of the church-life, but also variously in the way of inward self-direction. Certainly Sundays must also again follow the weeks of work; and, indeed, ever loftier and brighter in proportion as the labours have been more definite. Even to the Lord Himself was appointed a Sunday’s repose for His refreshing and strengthening before His last great week’s work. It was prepared for Him by the souls of disciples, in whom His Spirit had already begun effectually to operate as the living Spirit of Christianity. The first portion of this holy day was prepared for Him by His friends in Bethany, probably on the evening of the last Saturday of His pilgrimage, which already belonged to the next Sunday. The second portion of this holy day was the festal entry into Jerusalem, which thousands of adorers prepared for Him. It was now to be manifest how the love of Christ triumphs; how it calls forth, in the midst of the old, cold, selfish world, a new one. In fair presages should appear to His soul the great Sunday of thankful, happy, as of sorrowful, sacrificing, and praising love, and of every Sunday-jubilee of the new covenant, as it should originate with His institution—and strengthen His soul to accomplish with stedfastness the last mournful journey.

In Bethany His friends made Him an evening entertainment. The two first Evangelists write with something of mystery, ‘it was in the house of Simon the leper;’ we have seen what might have led to this. But from the observation, that He had come to Bethany, where Lazarus dwelt, that there a banquet had been provided for Him, and that Martha had waited there, John allows us to conclude that the family of Lazarus was at least very much at home in that house, even although we attach no weight to the conjecture, that Martha perhaps had been a widow of that Simon.¹ The brother and sisters, to whom it had been appointed to prepare for the Lord the last friendly asylum in His pilgrimage on earth, evidently form the centre of this circle, and each one is effective in his degree. Martha finds her soul’s delight in ministering to the Lord, and Lazarus could not contribute to His glorification more effectually than by sitting at the table among the guests, cheerful and in health, a blossom of resurrection which proclaims His Master as the Prince of Life. But just as Martha, by her ministry, causes the Lord to be acknowledged as the true Son of man, the traveller who has wandered far, who is weary, and in need of the festal refreshment,—and just as Lazarus glorifies Him as the mighty Prince of Life,—so Mary, with the ointment with which she adorns Him, celebrates His holy death, although as yet only with dim consciousness, yet with deep and foreboding sorrow.

Silently she steps forth with an alabaster casket in her hand, which contains a pound² of genuine³ ointment of spikenard of high value, she advances to the Lord’s place, breaks off the closed top of the casket,⁴ and allows a portion of the ointment to flow over His head. Then she kneels down and anoints His feet also. Richly she applies the rich gift, as though she would withhold nothing. And as that great sinner had wiped the feet of Jesus with the hair of her head, so also did she. She rejoiced in this adornment of her head, which she obtained from the overflow of the ointment from His feet; for she felt what He was, what she owed to Him, and how ready she was to follow Him through suffering and death. John writes in lively, undying recollection-the whole house was full of the odour of the ointment.

Mary knew well in spirit what she was doing. She would and must fulfil this extraordinary work, and she knew that it would be pleasing to the Lord, yea, that it would afford Him a great refreshment. The expense seemed to her as nothing in respect of the importance of the moment. The offering entirely disappeared from her eyes when she considered the heavenly bliss of the grace that she had received, in the divine appointment, to show respect at this moment to that greatly misapprehended One, the faithful witness of God, with these unwonted, nay, royal honours. She held at this hour a deeply mysterious office, in the name of all angels and good spirits—of all elect souls of Christian humanity—yes, it may be said, by the most secret commission of the Father in heaven Himself, as in the loftiest consecration of the Holy Spirit, who made her the priestess to anoint the great High Priest for His death-journey. She anointed the Lord, with the presentiment of, as well as with the spiritual and divinely beautiful sympathy with, that death itself. Her action was entirely a prophetic one. She was conscious of what she did.

But how greatly must she have been amazed when she perceived that even the nobler members of the band of disciples did not understand her, and that at one point of their circle a murmur of indignation had broken out which was gradually spreading, as if it would pervade the entire company, and by which, in any case, most of the disciples allowed themselves for a moment to become embarrassed to such a degree that they did not venture to take Mary immediately under their protection. John gives us an accurate explanation of the dark origin of this murmur in the band of disciples. It was Judas the son of Simon, the Iscariot, who first gave utterance to it: Why was not this ointment sold for three hundred denarii,⁵ for the benefit of the poor? The calculating disciple thus ventured to characterize the inspired handmaid in this action as a thoughtless enthusiast. He threw out to her the reproach that she had deprived the poor of this costly benefit. Therefore, as was suitable to such a disposition, he rated the probable value of the ointment at its highest. But not only the Lord, even John also, seem to have looked through the hypocrite at that moment. He points out Judas as the man who was about eventually to betray the Lord, and remarks that he had thus expressed his indignation, not because he cared for the poor, but because he was a thief, who administered the treasury of the disciples, and took possession of the contributions that flowed into it.

We gather from this observation, by the way, that the brotherhood of the Lord’s disciples had a common treasury; that it received charitable contributions; that from these, moreover, it abundantly succoured the poor; so that it might rightly be said, that what was given to them was given to the poor. At the same time, we gather that Judas managed the treasury, and that even at this time he must have been guilty of embezzlement in respect of the same.⁶ Perhaps since he had long been inwardly altogether out of harmony with the being, the spirit, and the course of life of his Master, he would have been able at this time to have ‘gone off,’ if this money had actually flowed into the treasury; for already he had arrived at a terrible darkening of his nature. The future of his Lord and Master, His life, His honour and glory, concern him no more; because, in his unhappy selfishness, he thought he saw his own future deeply imperilled by association with His interest. To anoint Christ with so costly an ointment, appeared to him therefore a sheer extravagance. And that powerful odour which streamed through the house as if it had been a king’s hall, which broke forth thus out of the opening flower of the coming age as an entirely new fragrance,—an odour of life for those who were capable of life,—would seem to him a savour of death, an odour of corruption. No wonder if, in this bitter disposition, and confiding in the power of his dissimulation, he spoke vehemently. But it is remarkable that, in many of the disciples, the elements of affinity with the disposition of Judas should have gained the mastery over the elements of affinity with the disposition of Mary, even for a moment. We see also how fearfully the sinfulness of human nature reacted in the hearts of the disciples at this time, against the incipient glorification of Christ, the source of the regeneration of humanity. Mark relates that some of the disciples were angry at the transaction, had called it a waste, had valued it at three hundred denarii and more, and were filled with indignation against Mary. The anger among the disciples must have been strongly expressed. This is evident from the fact that Matthew, in his comprehensive manner, could say quite generally that the disciples were indignant. Scarcely could all the twelve have expressed such an indignation; but Matthew indicates that the disposition of the disciples was a general one, or rather, that they conceived a general offence, since even the best of them replied nothing to the wicked accusation. Mark, on the other hand, has perhaps painted in lively and clear colours their expression and their appearance, while John limits himself to their exact and actual motive. The difficulty in the minds of the disciples was, that they still thought too legally and meanly of the expenditure of the property, to be able to reconcile themselves to the princely spirit and style of Mary’s homage; and thus the hypocritical anxiety of Judas for the poor was able, for the first moment, to strike them more than the royal action of Mary had affected them. But the calculating chiliastic spirit of Judas, which at first probably had captivated the disciples, and subsequently had often paralyzed them, now carried them away with it for the last time in this mournful manner. Doubtless they availed themselves of the reproof of Jesus to their deep humiliation; while the traitor hardened himself even more against it, because he grudged to his Lord and Master this one outlay for His glorification.

We know not in what measure Mary was moved by the unexpected and lively censure of the company of disciples. She had with full confidence, out of the very depth of her heart, brought an offering of love to the Lord; and now the honourable college of disciples decided that she had done foolishly, yea, lovelessly, and faithlessly towards the poor. Whilst the costly odour of the ointment filled the whole house, a very painful discontent was being diffused among the guests. She stood suddenly in the circle as one arraigned; and although her confidence did not forsake her for a moment, yet, in proportion as she had a presentiment of the death of Jesus, she must have perceived with a deep shudder the prevalence at that time, in the band of the disciples, of a satanic traitor-spirit.

The Lord had not yet expressed Himself; and before His tribunal stood His disciples in two parties, facing one another, eager and questioning. It was to be decided whether the Lord’s world is really so poor, that it can give no offering of gratitude, no poetry, and no extravagance of sacrificing love—no grand expression of great hearts, in splendid festivals, and gifts, and institutions, to the honour of God, to the glory of Jesus, to the celebration of the sublime moments of life; so poor, that the common necessity of every day, and the every day of common necessity, can and must, eventually, consume all the possessions of life. Surely the contradiction of such a notion is already found, in the very existence of these possessions at all. Somewhere and somehow, even the costly ointments will still be used; and thus, therefore, it is only a question whether they should be applied in an excellent manner for the service of consecrated moments, or in a common, luxurious, unspiritual waste. In the case of Judas, matters had really come to that issue, that so long as it was only sold for a good price, he would rather have granted the ointment to an Eastern harem, than to the Lord for His festival. The Lord, however, does not let them wait in vain for His decisive word. With His perfect faith He received the faithful handmaid into protection. ‘Let her alone,’ said He; ‘why trouble ye the woman? She hath wrought a good work on Me.’ And this He explained to them. ‘The poor have ye always with you; and if you really will, you can do them good: but Me ye have not always.’ The occasion does not always occur when you can prepare for the Lord a festival of grateful love, either in His own person or in that of His people. The real festival-times are single moments, which the heart must recognise and embrace in their flight; for if they are lost, they are lost without recall. Thus it was with this occasion of refreshing the Lord on His last journey. Mary perceived the moment, and performed a work for which Christian humanity thanks her without ceasing. It is otherwise with the customary duty of the care of the poor. It does not intermit. For just as life, in its completeness, is constantly begetting sicknesses anew, so constantly anew it begets poverty. Certainly the relief of poverty ought always to be attempted as much as possible, and the more fundamental that relief the better. But the notion, that by the expenditure of large sums of money poverty can ever effectually be abolished, is a materialistic superstition. Commonly, however, this notion is entertained most by such as have themselves actually the least care for the poor, and do the least for them. The Lord counts it suspicious if such alternatives are suggested as these:—either to anoint Him or to care for the poor. This hypocritical alternative recurs a thousand-fold in similar and kindred forms. In such cases the word of Christ can always be applied. If ye will, ye zealots for the interest of the poor, yea, if ye will, ye can always do good to the poor, for ye shall have them always with you. But the real poor, in their true necessities, do not so impoverish the world, as that the festive, the profound, the poetic heart, should be unable to declare itself in fit expression, yea, as that thankful love must not anoint its deliverer—for His death-journey.

The word of the Lord, especially spoken for Judas, might have another and a specially serious meaning. Poor men ye have always with you, but Me ye have not always. Judas had expressed the thought, that the poor would suffer by the expenditure on Jesus. Jesus intimates to him, that in future he will have no more to do with Him, but only with poor persons—that he will be always surrounded with the poorest poor: then it might be clear to him that the omission of the contribution of love does not cancel for him the necessity of the poor.

Then began the Lord to explain the action of Mary, according to its deepest meaning. He says that she had kept the ointment for His burial. From this expression we may perhaps conclude that Mary had once deferred the anointing of the dead Lazarus, in her hope for the coming of Jesus, and was therefore placed in a position to apply the ointment now for Him. The dead brother she anointed no more, for she hoped still in the help of the Master; but Him she now anoints, while He is still alive, as if she would already inter Him. Thereupon the Lord declares with certainty, that she had been impelled to anoint Him, by a strong presentiment of His death and burial.

This word was especially fitted to pierce the conscience of the traitor; for he it was who was intending to prepare this death for his Master. Finally, Jesus declares the grandeur of this action of Mary in the affirmation, ‘Verily I say unto you, Wherever this Gospel shall be preached in the whole world, there shall it also be mentioned what this woman hath done, in remembrance of her.’ He could not more strongly justify her. Her work should be commended to all time in connection with the preaching of the Gospel. It was thus asserted that the apostles, who had so bitterly blamed Mary on account of the anointing in that hour, were commissioned throughout the whole of their future life to bless and praise her for that very deed, in the face of their own generations, and generations to come. Yes, it was intimated to them, moreover, thereby, that with that record should be associated the remembrance of the terrible darkening, in that hour, of their love and faith, until the end of the world.

It is worthy of observation, that these supplementary words occur only in the two Evangelists who do not record the name of the woman, but not in John, who has preserved her name. It is as if the two first Evangelists had desired, by the record of this saying of Christ, to intimate to the reader of these Gospels, that he might easily learn the name of the celebrated female disciple in the congregation of the Lord.

This incident, first of all, brought to maturity the thoughts of treason that were brooding in the soul of Judas. Luke takes notice, apparently, of a moment which forms the close of this scene, when Satan entered into Judas, who was yet one of the twelve, and he went away and communed with the chief priests and captains (the temple guard). The latter had it in charge to cast Jesus into prison, if they could discover his retreat. Thus Judas might betake himself to them, and give them to understand that he could deliver to them the man they sought. And thus he might be introduced to the chief priests. Or possibly also, the matter might have occurred thus: that Judas, first of all, treated with the chief priests, and might then have been made known by them to the officials of the temple police, because he must needs act in concert with them. Thus much is quite clear from Matthew, that at once, in the most shameless way, he turned his treachery to profitable account, with the question, ‘What will ye give me, and I will deliver Him to you?’ But they were glad, that out of the very band of disciples one should come to them with such an offer. Involuntarily they had conceived of the circle of the disciples of Jesus, as of an unshaken phalanx of His most faithful friends, nay, of a circle of inspired heroes of a new era. The discovery of such wickedness in this company, so near to the heart of Jesus, must even have surprised the old masters in sin, and have encouraged them immensely in their mischief. It is in the very nature of things, that the wicked and reprobate of the New Testament order of life, should be much worse, and more devilish, than those of the Old Testament. It may therefore be conceived how much the treachery of Judas must have encouraged the chief priests to the consummation of their work; while, on the other hand, probably the disciple also might stifle the last movements of his conscience with the illusion, that he was now being converted once more to the true old Judaism, and was on the praiseworthy road to deliver up to its jurisdiction one that was deserving of punishment. The enemies of Jesus thus received the false disciple joyfully, and arranged with him for a definite price, thirty shekels of silver,⁷ exactly the amount of blood-money payable for a slave whom an ox has slain.⁸ The consideration of this hateful significance of the thirty pieces of silver might have been overlooked by the enemies of Jesus, or that they were purposing, in the most remarkable manner, to fulfil⁹ the word of the prophet Zechariah concerning the thirty pieces of silver, at which the Lord was valued. In return, Judas gave them his promise (ἐξωμολόγησε). And thereupon he went out to find the fitting opportunity to deliver the Lord to His enemies. It was arranged in the matter, that it should be done with all quietness. The Pharisees already knew, from frequent experience, how difficult it was to get possession of the person of Him whom they sought in the midst of the people. Therefore they could only accept the offer of Judas, upon his promise to betray the Lord in one of His solitary hours. Thereupon he agreed, that in a sanctuary of His lonely prayer he would deliver up his Master to them.

It is very remarkable that the plans of Judas to betray the Lord were matured at two several times of festival—namely, at the entertainment at Bethany, and at the celebration of the Passover in Jerusalem. This striking phenomenon is thus explained, that great influences of grace falling to the lot of false hearts, result in a mighty reaction of evil in them if they harden themselves, and they become terribly obdurate. In this manner Judas hardened himself at the two festivals, precisely on that account, because they exercised an extraordinary influence upon him, which might have startled and saved him. This is first apparent at the festival at Bethany. Here, above all things, the clear, pure, heavenly earnestness with which Mary glorified her Master, might have warmed his cold and empty heart. In vain! Her conduct offended him to the very depth of his soul. But especially here, the fair festal joy increased his discomfort—the celebration of the glory of Jesus, his envy—the beautiful and princely liberality, his avarice-the gentle reproof of the Lord, his bitter enmity against Him-the heavenly clearness with which Jesus’ glance pierced him through, his gloomy self-entanglement, in which he surrendered himself to the influences of Satan. Luke, as we have said, makes the remark here accordingly, that Satan entered into him. On the other hand, John associates that dark mystery with the moment when Judas at the last supper received the morsel from the hand of Jesus (Joh 13:27). But the same Evangelist notices expressly, in respect of the previous disposition of the soul of Judas at the beginning of the Passover, that the devil at that time had already put it into his heart to betray Jesus. Thus clearly does John distinguish two special moments in the hardening of Judas. This suggests to us a question as to the way in which the progressive steps in the hardening and the treachery of Judas stand related to one another.

On the evening of that supper at Bethany, when the Sabbath was already over, the traitor, under the cover of night, might have easily sought the neighbourhood of Jerusalem to enter into the first arrangements with the individual officers of the Sanhedrim. Moreover, that he actually did so, is almost more probable, than that in the early morning of the next day he should have hurried across the Mount of Olives on his dark errand; for his actual ways needed the curtain of night—the unseasonable time. On this occasion a general contract was effected between him and the chief priests. He gave them his word, that he would betray Jesus to them on the first opportunity. They, on their side, agreed upon the price to be paid to him for it. The time and the place were undecided, but it was arranged that the betrayal should take place out of the way of any popular disturbance. From this bargain, we may conclude that the first intention of Judas was matured. We say his first intention, but the final resolve did not come to maturity till immediately before the moment of the deed.

Probably the grand triumphal entry of Jesus into Jerusalem occurred after the traitor had already concluded the first agreement with the enemies of the Lord. It may reasonably be supposed, in harmony with the whole character of this man, that the palm-procession must, for a long time, have sadly staggered him. It might seem to him as if he had been mistaken, precipitate—that the prospects of Jesus were taking a more favourable turning, after all, than he had anticipated.

On such a supposition, it is explained that he did not avail himself of the evenings of Monday and Tuesday at all for the treason; although, if he had done so, he might have spared to the Sanhedrim the annoyance of being compelled to press forward the crucifixion even at the Passover. We find, accordingly, that two days before Easter the Sanhedrim held a sitting (probably late on Tuesday evening, and doubtless in consequence of the great triumph which Jesus had achieved on that day over all Jewish devices), in which they had not yet come to any answer to the question when Christ should be taken prisoner and put to death. The Sanhedrim has long since decided that Jesus should die; but they are now discussing how Christ might be apprehended secretly as well as craftily. It is evident that they hope for the assistance of Judas; but it is also evident, that since the first stipulation they cannot have had much communication with him, for the how still remains the great question for deliberation, and the conclusion is then come to, that the taking Him prisoner must now be postponed till after the feast.

But the departure of Jesus from the temple towards the evening of Tuesday, made it plain to Judas that the palm-procession would not be attended with any exaltation of his Master to the throne. If, on this supposition, his purpose had slightly wavered, the old intention is now again more than ever confirmed. And at length the celebration of the paschal supper brought about the crisis.

Up to that time he had been calculatingly playing with the purpose of Satan; but now that purpose played with him. In the first influence that Satan had exerted over him, he received the diabolical plan into his heart. He would gain for himself both favour and money from the Sanhedrim by the betrayal of his Master. But after that influence had operated a second time, he gave himself over as a slavish tool of the kingdom of darkness; as the bow and arrow with which the Prince of Darkness aimed at the heart of the Prince of Life. And now enslaved, he plunged, like one possessed, out into the night; and his vehemence carried away with him even the leaders of the Sanhedrim to complete the work of darkness without delay.

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Notes

The hypothesis, that Judas by his betrayal only wished to compel the Lord publicly to destroy His enemies, and to establish His kingdom, finds no support in the account of his life, unless the passage in Mat 27:3 be considered as affording such a support. The circumstance that twice in the course of one entertainment, in the midst of decidedly wholesome influences, Judas deliberately hardens his soul, convinces us of a deep alienation from, and even an embittering of his soul against, Jesus. Even the fact that he suffered himself to be paid for his treachery, does not permit us to think of a nobler motive. Moreover, it is to be taken into consideration, that Jesus would hardly have characterized so thoroughly absurd an attempt—which would have been more stupid than wicked—as the gravest crime. But, at all events, it is perhaps possible that the traitor—whose terrible self-entanglement will not so easily be cleared up, since, according to its nature, it is the most fearful chaotic soul-maze that the history of the world has known-may have benumbed his conscience, not only with the thought that he is now serving the highest established magistrates and priesthood, but also with the deceit that Jesus would know how to deliver Himself in time of need by His miraculous power. As his leading motive, however, we shall always have to consider an avarice and ambition exaggerated nearly to frenzy.

1) [According to Ewald (401), Simon was the father of the family. ED.]

2) See Friedlieb, Archäologie dcr Leidensgeschichte, p. 33, s. 33. The author conjectures that the litra here mentioned (the pound) is the old true litra of the Sicili-Greek system, about 7-20ths of a Cologne pound. ['Hardly as much as a Roman pound.'—Alford.]

3) Upon the several interpretations of the expression, νάρδος πιστική, compare Lücke, ii. 493 [the substance of whose note is given by Alford], Sepp, iii. 175 ; Friedlieb, 30.

4) Friedlieb, 33.

5) About £9, 15s. [Some idea of the costliness of a μύρου ἀλάβαστρον is received from Herodotus numbering it among the gifts sent by Cambyses to the Ethiopians (iii. 20) ; also from Horace's 'nardi parvus onyx.'—ED.]

6) Thus he had abused the pure and free community of goods of the disciples of Jesus, and his unfaithfulness serves as a mournful example which deters from a merely external and legal community of goods, just as the example of Ananias does (Acts v.) Still more discouraging, indeed, is the arrogance that would impute to Mary the lofty, beautiful, and free expenditure of her property as a wrong done to the society (considered by him in the most delusive sense communist), when he uttered the charge, 'This money ought to have been given to the poor.'

7) About £3, 15s. See Friedlieb, 44

8) Friedlieb, 36.

9) De Wette observes (217): 'If the post-exile stater of the Treasury be meant, the sum was unquestionably too little to furnish an explanation of the treachery of Judas, as proceeding from avarice. But the tradition which the Evangelist follows has probably fixed the sum in accordance with the quotation from Zechariah.' We may here be reminded almost of the words of Zechariah. 'If ye think good, bring me my price (or make an offer), how much I am worth.' Was not the avarice of Judas diabolical ? Is it not possible to diabolical avarice to make the greatest sacrifice for the smallest price? For the rest, it must by all means be assumed that the avaricious man was also an ambitious man, and sought the favour of the chief council.