21. In Galilee and on the Way to Jerusalem Through the Region Beyond the Jordan. Parables and Miracles

After the Feast of Tabernacles there remained an interval of two months before another solemn Jewish festival—namely the Feast of Dedication—and Christ used this intermediate period to visit His native Galilee once more and there, amid its native scenery and a small gathering of believers, to rest His soul from the trials He had experienced. And His stay there was marked by a whole series of new and striking parables and miracles. In the parables one cannot fail to notice the echo of the trials He had experienced, since they expose especially the excessive attachment to the goods of this world to the neglect of God and the soul, and at the same time clearly rebuke that spirit of dead Pharisaism which so blinded the leaders of the Jewish people that they could not understand of what a supremely great good they were depriving themselves by rejecting in the person of Christ the promised Messiah.

Occasion for the exposure of excessive attachment to the goods of this world was provided by an incident when, during Christ’s preaching, one of His hearers suddenly interrupted His discourse and addressed to Him a request to help him in a profitable division of property with an unyielding brother. This untimely request clearly showed to what degree this man was a wretched slave of the world, and to demonstrate the unreliability and vanity of the goods of this world, the Savior, declining to participate in the settlement of the inheritance dispute, told the parable of a rich man who, having received an extraordinarily large harvest, did not know what to do with this wealth. All he devised was to enlarge his barns, that he might then in gross self-satisfaction enjoy this wealth for “many years” (Luke 12:19). But he forgot that human life itself is entirely in the hand of God, and since he thought to base his happiness exclusively on wealth, the fearsome judgment of God rang out upon him: “Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of thee; then whose shall those things be, which thou hast provided?” “So is he,” concluded the divine Preacher, for every one “that layeth up treasure for himself, and is not rich toward God” (Luke 12:20–21).

Continuing to develop this thought, Christ exhorted His hearers not to give themselves up to the vanity of the world and above all to take care of the soul, which is greater than the body. The body is the lower constituent part of man, common to him with the lower animals, and to satisfy its needs there is no necessity for giving oneself wholly to the care of it. In surrounding nature itself there are sufficient means for its satisfaction. Consider the ravens: “they neither sow nor reap; which neither have storehouse nor barn; and God feedeth them” (Luke 12:24). Are not men then better than birds? The same applies to clothing. “Consider the lilies how they grow: they toil not, they spin not; and yet I say unto you, that Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. If then God so clothe the grass, which is to-day in the field, and to-morrow is cast into the oven; how much more will He clothe you, O ye of little faith?” (Luke 12:27–28). Therefore do not worry overmuch about food and clothing. “But rather seek ye the kingdom of God; and all these things shall be added unto you” (Luke 12:31). And to this the Savior added words of encouragement: “Fear not, little flock; for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom” (Luke 12:32). But they must prepare for it by spiritual watchfulness and repentance. “And ye yourselves like unto men that wait for their lord, when he will return from the wedding; that when he cometh and knocketh, they may open unto him immediately. Blessed are those servants, whom the lord when he cometh shall find watching” (Luke 12:36–37); he will reward them and honor them with a great feast, at which he himself with joy will serve them. But if the servants do not await him and on his unexpected return he finds complete disorder, injustice, and strife among them, the guilty will be subjected to the punishment they deserve.

During the Savior’s discourse He was told of a sad event that occurred not infrequently in those troubled times. Several ardent Galileans had expressed their patriotism too immoderately in Jerusalem, and the Roman procurator Pilate subjected them to a cruel punishment: he executed the rebels and mingled their blood with the blood of their own sacrifices. Christ used this sad story to repeat His exhortation to repentance. The judgment of God had overtaken the ill-fated Galileans; but one must not suppose they were unusually great sinners. “Nay, I tell you; but, except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish” (Luke 13:3). No more sinful than others were those unfortunate eighteen men upon whom the tower of Siloam fell and killed them. Their fate too serves only as a warning for all of us. Even the long-suffering of God has its limits, and this the Savior illustrated with the parable of the barren fig tree, which the master resolved to cut down as uselessly occupying the ground, and only at the vinekeeper’s request deferred his decision for one more year, so that after that time, if it again bore no fruit despite all special care given to it, it should finally be cut down. By the barren fig tree Christ clearly meant the Jewish people. By its unbelief—its spiritual barrenness—it had exhausted the divine long-suffering, and the axe was already laid at its root. Only the intercession of the Divine Vinedresser had yet extended for a time the divine long-suffering; but since after this too the people remained barren and unbelieving, the fearsome judgment of God overtook them—in the destruction of Jerusalem and the complete ruin of their political existence.

This preaching was undoubtedly making a powerful impression on the people, to the great vexation of the learned Pharisees, who had followed in the Savior’s tracks to Galilee as well, there to pursue their usual schemes. On this occasion they made an attempt to interrupt Christ’s preaching by reporting a danger supposedly threatening Him from Herod, who was allegedly seeking to kill Him. But this report could not frighten the divine Preacher, and He told them to relay even to Herod himself—that pitiful fox upon a phantom throne—that His hour had not yet come, and that that hour would arrive not here in Galilee but in the place where so many prophets had already perished. “For it cannot be that a prophet should perish outside of Jerusalem” (Luke 13:33).

In accordance with His declaration, Christ continued His activity in Galilee for some time longer and among other things performed two miracles—namely the healing of a woman who had been bent double, having suffered from the affliction for eighteen years, and the healing of a man with dropsy. These healings, being performed on the Sabbath, again provoked murmuring among the Pharisees, but at the same time provided the Savior with a fresh occasion to clarify the true purpose of the Sabbath, which in no way conflicts in spirit with doing good to others. If these petty legalists do not hesitate to do good even to animals on the Sabbath—for instance when they pull out a donkey or an ox from a well—then how much more is it permissible to do good to our neighbors. These arguments put those present to shame and they were silent. The last miracle was performed in the house of one of the Pharisaic rulers, who had invited Jesus Christ “to eat bread,” with the primary intent of course “to watch Him” (Luke 14:1). But the Savior’s own observation of them was more penetrating than their observation of Him. Among other things, Christ noticed how those invited to this supper, with their customary petty ambition, vied with one another in taking the first and most honorable places at the table. In contrast to this the Savior proposed a wiser and better rule of social modesty, which at the same time contained the deepest lesson of spiritual humility. Just as in earthly society an obtrusive, arrogant, self-satisfied person must always be prepared for a sharp rebuff and is frequently compelled to yield his place to modest merit, so also in the heavenly world “every one that exalteth himself shall be abased; and he that humbleth himself shall be exalted” (Luke 14:11). Christ then did not overlook the weakness in the character of the host himself. The supper was arranged not out of any elevated motive, but simply out of a vainglorious desire to display his wealth and his ostensible generosity, which clearly expected repayment in kind from the guests. Such hospitality has no moral significance. A kindness shown to the poor awaits a richer recompense than flattering entertainment of friends and the wealthy. In receiving friends and relatives, one must not forget the helpless and the suffering. Calculated charity is nothing other than masked self-love. The wealthy Pharisee would have secured for himself a far more reliable and indestructible blessing had he invited to stay the man suffering from dropsy, had the poor who were looking on at his feast also been numbered among his guests.

At this point one of the guests, thinking perhaps that such instruction was unpleasant and harsh, inserted a remark which under the circumstances barely rose above the level of an ambiguous and flat witticism (Luke 14:15–24). “Blessed is he that shall eat bread in the kingdom of God,” he exclaimed (Luke 14:15), as if wishing by this impersonal remark to smooth over the unpleasantness of the impression. Instead of profiting from this divine instruction, he appeared to be more content to defer the whole matter to the distant future, as though he were quite certain of the blessedness about which he evidently had the vaguest and most crude conception. But the Savior turned his empty remark into a fresh occasion for memorable teaching. He told a parable to show them that “eating bread in the kingdom of heaven” requires conditions which the very ones so fully confident of eating it would have been unwilling to accept. A man, He said, sent out many invitations to a great supper; but when the time for supper came, all refused. One was occupied with his estate and needed to go and inspect a newly purchased piece of land. Another had just bought five yoke of oxen and felt it necessary to try them. A third had just married and was so occupied with family matters that there could be no question of his coming. Then the master, angered at these discourteous and unresponsive guests, ordered his servants to go at once into the streets and lanes of the city and call in all the poor, the maimed, the lame, and the blind; when this was done and there was still room, he sent his servants to call in even the homeless wanderers from the hedges and highways. The moral application of the parable was obvious to all present. A heart devoted to the world, absorbed in household concerns, the accumulation of wealth, or simply the sensuality of a complacent life, is incompatible with a true striving for the feast in the kingdom of heaven. Gentiles and pariahs, harlots and tax-collectors, roadside laborers and street beggars may find themselves there sooner than scribes with their pompous learning and Pharisees with their ostentatious piety. “For I say unto you, that none of those men which were bidden shall taste of my supper.” And so “many are called, but few are chosen” (Luke 14:24).

This parable was a vivid depiction of the activity of Christ Himself. To the feast of His glad tidings He called everyone, but the majority of those called—those to whom He had first turned with the Gospel—refused Him, absorbed as they were in the vanity that had seduced them. The chief leaders of the people and the upper classes in general, as had now become evident, had definitively refused to receive the glad tidings. On the other hand, all the suffering and heavy-laden, all the poor, the maimed, and the lame, all the tax-collectors and sinners—those who, as the dispossessed of this world, more readily opened the door of their heart to the new gospel which proclaimed to them a kingdom in another and better world—responded to it with full sincerity. When the scribes and Pharisees had definitively taken a hostile stance toward Christ, He remained in the company of these very tax-collectors and sinners, who gathered in crowds around their Divine Comforter. For the proud scribes and Pharisees such company appeared especially degrading and disgraceful for a Prophet, and they loudly murmured among themselves, saying: “This man receiveth sinners, and eateth with them” (Luke 15:2). The lower classes of the Jewish people at this time found themselves in a heavy situation. Internecine wars and the Roman conquest had filled the country with ruins and ashes. The Herods, it is true, endeavored to rebuild the destroyed cities and were marked by a passion for construction, but thereby they gratified only their own ambition, while for the people it entailed only new taxes that burdened them further and drew them into hopeless debt. Not without reason in Christ’s parables are examples so often taken from hopelessly indebted men. There were many of them in real life. This was further promoted by the Roman system of tax-collection through companies of tax-farmers, who through their agents or tax-collectors drained the last resources from the people. The economic distress of the common people was heightened still further by the fact that the upper classes showed not the slightest concern for bettering the lot of their lesser brethren, but on the contrary treated them with complete contempt. The very scribes and Pharisees who considered themselves zealots of religion and law looked with heartless coldness upon the suffering mass of their people, and elevated their contemptuous attitude toward them into a special rule of law. And therefore, when the Savior began to turn with His glad tidings primarily to this abandoned and downtrodden mass, news of Him spread rapidly throughout the land, and from various dens of wretchedness and poverty to Him came all these weary and heavy-laden who had hitherto found in their haughty leaders neither love nor a welcome. But the Savior did not confine His love even to these; He extended it also to those who were the utter dregs of the world—namely sinners and tax-collectors, the very contact with whom was for pious Pharisees and strict legalists a sort of pollution. To the unspeakable horror of these soulless legalists Christ “received sinners and ate with them!” No wonder they began to murmur at Him for this flagrant, in their view, violation of social decency; but when their murmuring reached the ears of the Lord, He gave them a most instructive lesson on the subject—in a series of striking parables. “What man of you, having an hundred sheep, if he lose one of them, doth not leave the ninety and nine in the wilderness, and go after that which is lost, until he find it? And when he hath found it, he layeth it on his shoulders, rejoicing. And when he cometh home, he calleth together his friends and neighbours, saying unto them, Rejoice with me; for I have found my sheep which was lost. I say unto you, that likewise joy shall be in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, more than over ninety and nine just persons, which need no repentance” (Luke 15:4–7). With the example of a woman rejoicing over the finding of a lost coin, the Savior further confirmed the same thought, adding that “likewise, I say unto you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth” (Luke 15:10). But with particular vividness the infinite mercy of God toward repentant sinners was depicted in the famous parable of the Prodigal Son. In it the younger son of a wealthy father wished to enjoy his independence before the appointed time, and taking from the father the portion of his estate due to him, went to a far country. There he quickly squandered his wealth in riotous and criminal living and began to suffer even hunger, to satisfy which he was compelled to hire himself out as a swineherd—that is, to occupy the most humiliating position a Jew could fall to! He had to feed alongside the swine on the very husks of the carob tree, with which in the east pigs are fattened and on which from time to time in extreme need poor people also subsist. Silent sojourn in the company of these filthy animals gave the ill-fated youth the opportunity to review in his soul all the events of his madly ruined young life. He remembered too his father’s home, where he had once been surrounded by love, comfort, and the esteem of numerous servants. He himself was now also a servant—but a hungry, humiliated, and rejected servant—while in his father’s house even the servants enjoyed sufficiency and a decent human situation. And he remembered those servants with envy. How glad he would now be to occupy in his own home—no longer as heir and son (of which he dared not even dream), but at least as one of the hired laborers! He was dreadfully afraid to appear now before the face of his once-loving father, whom he had so deeply offended by his senseless act; but hunger and misery prevailed in the inner struggle, and he resolved to return to his father and sincerely repent of everything. And so, hungry, filthy, and ragged, “he arose and came to his father” (Luke 15:20). Already the surroundings of his native land were in sight; but every familiar hill and spring served as a terrible reproach to him, and all the more he had to fear and be ashamed before familiar people who might see him now in this wretched and pitiable condition. What would his father and brother say? But his father’s heart had already felt the approach of the ill-fated youth. “And when he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him. And the son said unto him: Father, I have sinned against heaven, and before thee, and am no more worthy to be called thy son” (Luke 15:20–21). He was about to add the request he had prepared in advance—“make me as one of thy hired servants” (Luke 15:19)—but his father did not let him finish. He at once commanded that the finest clothing be brought, that he be dressed, shod, and adorned with a ring; then he ordered the fatted calf to be killed for a family feast and rejoiced with his household over the son who for him “was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found” (Luke 15:24). Then came the elder son who, on approaching the house, was greatly astonished to hear singing and rejoicing within. Learning what had happened, he was not only not gladdened by the return of his younger brother who had been missing without word, but grew extremely angry and would not enter the house to take part in the celebration, rebuking his father at the same time for having dealt so generously with his dissolute son, while never once giving even a kid to him, the elder brother, who had labored in sweat on his behalf. To this heartless reproach of his elder son the loving father exclaimed with enthusiasm: “Son, thou art ever with me, and all that I have is thine. It was meet that we should make merry, and be glad: for this thy brother was dead, and is alive again; and was lost, and is found” (Luke 15:31–32). The Savior did not say what this heartless brother did; the Pharisees who heard Him had to settle this question by their own conduct toward despairing sinners, and at the same time had to understand all the moral force of the parable, which with such irresistible power exposed their own heartlessness.

Similar parabolic teachings the Savior offered throughout the whole of this last stay in Galilee. On another occasion, speaking particularly with the disciples, He told them the parable of the Unjust Steward, who had been squandering his master’s property and, on hearing of the dismissal threatening him, entered into special agreements with his master’s debtors, reducing the amounts of their bonds, so that he might afterwards in case of need find friends among them. This act revealed in him a particular shrewdness in the management of property, and the Savior, starting from this example, exhorted His hearers to manage their property in general in such a way that in the event of impoverishment they would have friends who would receive them into the eternal habitations. These friends can of course only be those poor and needy to whom almsgiving can give the right to enter the eternal habitations.

The Pharisees also heard this parable, and since they were extremely covetous, the Savior’s teaching seemed to them exceedingly ridiculous—especially the concluding words of the teaching, that one cannot serve two masters, God and mammon. The Pharisees were serving two masters precisely, and considered themselves such great righteous men that the first and most honorable places in the kingdom of heaven had long been prepared for them. To show them their pitiful delusion, the Savior told the parable of the rich man and Lazarus. In it He unfolded before the astonished Pharisees the terrible for them truth—that God judges men differently from earthly scribes and legalists, and that the one who here enjoyed all the goods of the world would there, in the life beyond the grave, have to bear on account of his heartlessness terrible but deserved sufferings and would see how poor Lazarus, to whom he had refused any alms and left only his dogs to lick his festering wounds, rested in the blessed bosom of Abraham. From such a fate the Pharisees can save themselves only by fulfilling what the law and the prophets have commanded. Unfortunately, in their pretended righteousness they were complete practical unbelievers, and hardly even Lazarus himself, if he were sent back to earth at the request of the unfortunate rich man to preach repentance and the life beyond the grave, could convince them of the truth of what was said.

Meanwhile the time came again to go to Jerusalem, and the Savior, not interrupting His teaching and charitable activity, gradually made His way south and directed His steps to the region beyond the Jordan, so as to travel by a quieter route. But human suffering sought His beneficent help on this road as well. On the border between Galilee and Samaria, at the entrance to a certain village, there reached Him a low, hoarse, plaintive cry. He looked and saw ten men who were lepers, united into a single company by their dreadful affliction. They stopped at a distance, for they dared not come near, since their approach entailed pollution, and they were obliged to warn all who came close to them with the heart-rending cry of “tamé, tamé”—“unclean, unclean!” Leprosy—that living death, as it were—presented the most terrible image of suffering and misery, decomposing and corrupting the very sources of the life-giving blood in a man, disfiguring the face, making even the touch loathsome, slowly poisoning and covering the whole body with sores of a disease more terrible than death itself—always stirred deep and keen compassion in the heart of the Savior. Scarcely had He heard their cry: “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!”—than He immediately, not even waiting for them to approach, said to them in a loud voice: “Go, shew yourselves unto the priests!” (Luke 17:13–14). They understood the meaning of this command: they knew that He was ordering them to go and ask of the priests a recognition of their healing, a certification of the restoration to them of all the rights and privileges of public life (Lev. 13:2; 14:2). Already at the sound of that miraculous voice they felt within themselves a stream of healthy life, the restoration of strength, the cleansing of the blood that had begun to flow again in their veins, “and as they went, they were cleansed” (Luke 17:14). They received the greatest and most precious gift; but great is the abyss of human ingratitude! The healed men did not think to return to their divine Physician to render Him due thanksgiving. To their shame, only one of them returned—namely the Samaritan—who “with a loud voice glorified God, and fell down on his face at His feet, giving Him thanks” (Luke 17:15–16). However accustomed the heart of Christ was to every ingratitude, even it was troubled by so crying, so shameless, so monstrous an example of it. “Were there not ten cleansed?” He asked with sad astonishment; “but where are the nine? There are not found that returned to give glory to God, save this stranger?” (Luke 17:17–18). But if so black and shameful was the ingratitude of the remaining nine, then by comparison with it all the more precious was the gratitude of this Samaritan. And the Savior did not leave it without reward. Having healed his body, He healed also his soul, saying to him lovingly: “Arise, go thy way: thy faith hath made thee whole!” (Luke 17:19).

Around this time the seventy disciples returned from their preaching. They told Him with joy of the success that had attended their preaching. By the power of the name of Christ they had been able even to cast out demons. On this occasion the Savior gave them the teaching that good is infinitely more powerful than evil, and that the victory over Satan, who had fallen from heaven like lightning, had been won and would continue for ever. Over all the powers of evil He gave them authority and victory, and His word of promise was to serve them as protection against every source of harm. They would tread upon the asp and the basilisk, trample the lion and the dragon; because He had set His love upon them, He would deliver them; He would protect them, for they had known His name. But they had a yet more exalted, more spiritual source of joy—namely, that their names were written in the book of life and would never be blotted out from it.

This simple faith and boundless hope of the disciples filled the heart of Jesus with joy; but He also rejoiced in spirit because, though He was rejected and despised by scribes and Pharisees, He was loved and adored by tax-collectors and sinners. The poor, to whom He proclaimed the good news, the blind whose sight He restored, the sick whom He healed, the lost whom He sought and saved—all of them with sincere and enthusiastic gratitude crowded around their Good Shepherd and great Physician. To all the weary and heavy-laden He gave in every possible form hope and blessing. In the parable of the importunate widow He taught them the duty of faith and showed that persistent, earnest prayer will assuredly receive an answer (Luke 18:1–8). In the parable of the arrogant, self-satisfied Pharisee—proud of his honor, his fasting, and his almsgiving—who came to the Temple only to boast before God and therefore always went away less justified than the sinful tax-collector who, with downcast eyes, beating his breast, could only repeat his cry for God’s mercy, Christ taught that God loves repentant humility more than mere outward service, and that a humble heart and a contrite spirit are the sacrifices He will not despise and which are most pleasing to Him.