courage the Christians with the assurance that the end of the world and the return of Jesus were close at hand. This is the work to which we have already referred, as the probable source from which the lamentation over Jerusalem's impenitence was drawn.1 If we take the discourse as it stands, we cannot admit that any part of it was really uttered by Jesus, except certain opening words that form a kind of exordium, and perhaps a single metaphor at the close. These presumably genuine sayings we will therefore give. One day, immediately before the Passover we are told, Jesus left the temple and the city, followed the winding path this side the Kidron, and ascended the Mount of Olives on the other. Here one of the Twelve came up to him, and spoke in a strain of enthusiastic admiration of the dazzling splendor, the colossal proportions, and the immovable foundations of the temple. "Are you lost in admiration of it all?" he answered. "I tell you truly there shall not be one stone left upon another; but all shall be overthrown!" He meant that however warmly the heart of every true Israelite might beat for the sanctuary of his people, yet there would be no place for it in the kingdom of God: it would vanish without a trace when all things were made new in the immediate future. Jesus pursued his way, and a few minutes brought him to the summit of the Mount of Olives, where he sat down. There lay the city at his feet, bathed in the gold and purple of the setting sun. Again his friends drew near, according to Mark the two pairs of brothers only; Simon and Andrew, James and John. "Tell us when this shall come to pass," they said, "and what will be the signs of the approaching end of this world." Jesus may have answered by a stirring exhortation to unwearied toil, since neither they nor any man could know when the last day would break. "Who is the faithful and discreet steward," he continued, "whom his master has set over all his fellow-servants to give each his food at the proper season? Happy the servant whom his master, when he comes, shall find performing this task that he has set him. I tell you, truly, that he will give him charge of all his possessions. But if the wicked servant says to himself: 'My master is long absent,' and begins to beat his fellowslaves, while he himself feasts and carouses with the drunkards, his master shall return on a day when he looks not for him and at an hour that he does not know, and shall cut him to pieces and rank him among the faithless." 1 See p. 398. 1 In connection with this warning, Luke makes Jesus say: "The slave that knew his master's will, and yet got nothing ready and did not do his will, shall be beaten with many stripes; but the slave that transgressed his will without knowing it shall be beaten with but few stripes. From him to whom much has been given much will be required; and from him to whom much was entrusted more will be demanded." Or again, with an analogous metaphor: 2 "Let your loins be ever girt and your lamps burning; and hold yourselves like men that wait for their master to return from the wedding, ready to open the door to him whenever he comes and knocks. Happy are the servants whom their master comes and still finds watching! I tell you truly, he will gird up his own loins, and make them lie down and will wait upon them; and if it is the second or the third watch of the night when he comes, and if he finds them still at their post, blessed are they! For, if the householder had known at what hour the thief would come, he would have watched and would not have suffered him to break into his house. Be you ready likewise! For the Son of Man will come at an hour when least you look for him." How much or how little of all this should be ascribed to Jesus himself it is impossible to determine. The saying, "Let your loins be ever girt and your lamps burning," that is to say, "Be ever watchful and alert," - bears every mark of authenticity. In the first Gospel it is elaborated into the following parable: Once there was a wedding; and in the evening ten of the bride's companions went out from their houses, in festive attire and with brightly burning lamps in their hands, to meet the bridegroom. He would come, with his companions, by torchlight and with music; and the girls went out some way to meet him, and to escort him with due ceremony to the house of the bride, where all would join in the brilliant festival. Now five of the girls remembered that there might be a long time to wait, so they filled their flasks with oil and took them with them; but the other five were so foolish as never to think about it. Now it so happened that the bridegroom and his train were long in coming; and as they waited, hour after hour, all the ten bridesmaids grew drowsy and dropped asleep. It was not till midnight that they were roused. In the distance they heard a choral song sung in alternate verses, "The bridegroom comes! The bridegroom comes! 1 Luke xii. 47, 48. 2 Luke xii. 35-40. Arise, and go to meet him!" As the sound came nearer and nearer, the girls sprang up and began to trim their lamps, which were still just smoking and flickering. The five prudent ones soon trimmed their lamps and saw them burning with a clear, bright flame once more; but their companions were half distracted, for they could not for shame join the bridal procession without their lights. "Give us some of your oil," they cried in despair to the others, "for our lamps are going out!" But this was impossible, for none of them had brought any more than they required for themselves; so the others answered, "There would not be enough for all of Run back to the first shop that you can find and buy some for yourselves." The foolish girls now saw that there was not a moment to be lost, and hurried off as their friends had advised them. But meanwhile the bridegroom and his escort came, and the five prudent maidens who were ready joined him, and were soon at the bridal house. They entered, and the door was shut. It was not long before the others came too late. Their lamps burned clear, and they knocked at the door and cried, 66 Lord, Lord, open to us!" But he answered, "I know not who you are." "Watch, therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour." us. This story teaches the beautiful and universal lesson that fitful energy in a good cause and the best of momentary intentions do not suffice to bring us to our goal; and that, if we are to hold our own in the press of life around us, we must gather up a treasure of faith and knowledge, and possess a fund of moral and religious life within ourselves from which as it were we can refresh at any moment our flagging earnestness and love, and renew our self-consecration to the ideal life. But, as we have it, the parable points with unmistakable distinctness to the circumstances of the apostolical community, when the return of Jesus was delayed beyond all expectation, so that the dangers of worldliness became more and more threatening, and the most earnest warnings were needed against them.1 The parable accordingly cannot be from Jesus. The bridegroom is no other than the Christ, who will come after long delay to his bride, -the community on the earth. So too in the conception of the Evangelist, but not of course in the mouth of Jesus himself," the master who goes abroad in the parable of the talents (which follows directly after that of the ten virgins) is the Christ who has left the 2 Compare p. 358. 1 See, for instance, Romans xiii. 11 ff. 8 See pp. 389, 390. earth for heaven, to return after a while. Finally Matthew, who gives these pictures of the future in far greater fulness than the other Evangelists, concludes them with a description of the last judgment, which we have taken an earlier opportunity of giving.1 It was but natural that during the gloom of these last remaining days the thoughts of Jesus, when among his friends, should have constantly wandered into the future and dwelt upon the judgment hanging over his nation, and the establishment of the kingdom of God after the short delay caused by Israel's hardness of heart. And it is equally natural that his warnings and his glances into the future should have been gradually transformed and elaborated as they passed from mouth to mouth. But, however much uncertainty this latter consideration may cause, one thing at least appears to rise above all reasonable doubt; namely, that, in spite of the gloomiest forebodings as to the fate of the great majority of his people, Jesus never for a moment lost faith in his own mission or the speedy triumph of his cause, never ceased to expect the speedy coming of the kingdom of heaven, in which all mere external worship would be done away, and the crushing yoke of the letter would be broken.2 Meanwhile he saw the crisis of his own fate drawing near with rapid strides. The first Gospel represents him, after giving expression to his expectations and uttering his threats in the series of discourses and parables just considered, as saying to his friends, “You know that in two days the Passover begins, and the Son of Man is given up to death," rather, as the words now stand, "to be crucified." If Jesus really said this, he did not mean to predict the exact moment of his death, but to emphasize the mournful contrast between the joyous festival to which all Israel looked forward and the bitter death that awaited him. or The evening of that same day, or the one that followed, showed how completely he was filled with thoughts of death. His host, Simon, had arranged a social meal in his honor, and, before it was over, a woman entered with an alabaster flask full of the costliest ointment in her hand. She stood behind Jesus, snapped the long, thin neck of the vase, and poured the contents over his head, filling the chamber with the glorious perfume. Her meaning was not doubtful. In the presence of the Twelve and all the other guests she 1 See pp. 167, 168. 2 Compare Acts ví. 14. anointed Jesus king of Israel! It was an act of homage rendered in the enthusiasm of her faith to the future Messiah, as if to compensate for the delay in his recognition by the people; but at the same time it was an appeal to him no longer to defer the public assumption of his office. Little did the impatient disciple perceive how matters really stood! We may well believe that however acceptable to Jesus such a tribute of honor at such a moment must have been, yet a shadow crossed his face as he thought how widely different his fate would really be! Meanwhile the woman's deed was far from meeting with the approval of the disciples. Were they angry with her for seeking thus to anticipate them and all the others? Or did they think she ought to have rendered this solemn homage publicly in Jerusalem in the presence of all the people, instead of at this quiet, friendly meeting? At any rate, they were decidedly put out, and some one muttered half aloud, "What waste! The ointment might have been sold for as much as three hundred denarii, and the money given to the poor!" and instead of the instantaneous and passionate assent she had expected her action to met with sullen or resentful glances. ticed this he began to defend her. woman thus? She has done a good always have the poor with you, and whenever you will; but you will not you. She has done what she could. In pouring this ointment on my body she has anointed me already for my burial." 66 awake, the woman only The importance which the early Christians attached to this scene at the close of the Master's life appears from the words that are put into his mouth: "I tell you truly that wherever this Gospel [that is to say, the history of his life, or the writing itself that embodied it], wherever this Gospel shall be preached in all the world, this woman's noble deed shall be recorded in her praise." She deserves no less, for her deed brought comfort to Jesus in an hour of deepest suffering, and we may well be surprised that her name has perished. As for us, we rejoice to find in the Master's condemnation of the judgment and behavior of the disciples a vigorous protest against that narrow, matter-of-fact conception of life, too common still, which always looks to the immediate utility of every thing as the first or only test of its value, and condemns as sinful and wretched all those sweet super |