THE CONDEMNED WOMAN AND THE FORGIVING PHYSICIAN

THE CONDEMNED WOMAN

John 8:2-11

 

        Readers of the King James Version, commonly called the Authorized, will see nothing unusual in the arrangement of the text in the Gospel according to John at this point of his account. Those reading from the Revised Version will observe that the paragraph, John 7:53, to John 8:11, is printed within brackets. That applies both to the English and American Revisions. Moreover, if the reader is using the Greek New Testament, Westcott and Hort's text, he will find the paragraph is omitted, but is put in at the end of the Gospel. If on the other hand, Nestle's text is used, the paragraph is in the place where it is found in the translations, but in brackets. I pause to refer to these facts because naturally young people reading will ask the meaning of them. That may immediately be stated by saying that the weight of external and internal evidence is considered by the most competent and devout scholars to be in favor of the view that this account did not form part of the Gospel as John wrote it, that it is an interpolation added, probably at a later time.

        The questions may further be asked as to when and why it was inserted. The probability is that we have here an extra illustration in the life of Jesus from the pen of Papias. Of Papias, Eusebius says that he was a bishop in the first half of the second century, and that he collected traditions illustrative of "The Oracles of the Law." His intention was to throw further light upon the history contained in the Gospel narrative. It is therefore, more than probable that Papias committed to writing this account of oral tradition, and intended it to be an illustration of the statement found in John 8:15, in its spiritual values. What was a marginal reading, so far as Papias was concerned, was at some period embodied in the letter of the text. In that sense it is looked upon as an interpolation.

         Nothing can be dogmatically asserted concerning it. If, however, this suggestion is correct, there is no reason to doubt the authenticity of the account, for doubtless many true accounts were not committed to writing, but transmitted orally; and the work of Papias was valuable in retaining them. In our consideration we shall proceed upon the assumption of its accuracy, and in doing that I feel that its authenticity is stamped upon its character, for there is no more beautiful account in the record of John than this.

        Our first business, then, is to see the woman as she is presented to us here, and in this case, as constantly in such cases in the New Testament, her name is not given. Neither is the city to which she belonged named. It is evident that this took place in Jerusalem, and there she had been found guilty of sin, and had been arrested. Necessarily there is one thing to be said concerning her, which sounds almost ordinary, but which nevertheless must be remembered in considering this account, and all such stories. She was some mother's child.

        As we look at her as she is presented here, we first of all find ourselves in revolt against the men who brought her, and the methods of their speech. In passing I may say their successors are not all extinct. They represent a class and an attitude whose only effect could be that of hardening sinners in their evil courses. On the other hand, as we read the account we are thankful that they are clearly seen, for they help us in what they said, to see the woman, and their action helps us to see our Lord as He dealt with her.

        Now we realize first of all that the whole truth at the moment concerning the woman can be told by declaring that she was criminal, she was caught, and she was condemned. There is no question whatever about her criminality. The very offensive and almost indecent way in which these men told the account reveals that fact. Their account of the matter was not challenged. There was no question as to her crime. Then she had been caught, and at that time as now, in the eyes of men that is the utmost sin. We have no further details than this statement that she had been taken in the very act of sin. Consequently by the law of God as it had been enunciated to the people through Moses, she was condemned. So much the literal account reveals.

        Then we come to the place where, with all these things in mind, if the imagination be quick, and the heart illuminated, we can see things that are not stated. It was early in the morning when they brought her into the Temple. Jesus had resumed there after retirement in the Mount of Olives through the night. There is sadness in the statement with which chapter seven ends and chapter eight beings: "They went every man unto his own house; but Jesus went unto the Mount of Olives."

        From that place where He had spent the night, He came back to the Temple, and the people thronged round Him, and He taught them. It was then, while He was thus occupied, that these men brought this woman to Him. John is careful to tell us she was placed in the midst, that is, in the midst of the crowd. This would constitute a disturbance. While the people were listening to Jesus, something happened which broke in upon the crowd, and upon the teaching. A company of men, with a woman, disturbed the occasion, and found their way to the very midst of the crowd, and into the presence of Jesus. Necessarily there would be cessation in His teaching, while the people who had been attentive, became interested in what was happening.

        Now with that quick imagination, to which I have referred, look at the woman as she comes in. Do not forget that she had been caught in the act of sin. There was no escape from the fact of her guilt, and these moral rulers have arrested her, and for purposes of their own, have brought her into the presence of Jesus. It is impossible to look at her without seeing that in the hands of those men, and under those conditions, her attitude was that of a woman hostile and defiant. The men in whose charge she was could do nothing to help moral dereliction. The finer possibilities of her womanhood were submerged under the influence of their hard, cold legalism. She was caught! Very well, then, let them do what they like. Under the circumstances she was callused. The question which arose at the time undoubtedly in the mind of the watchers, and which recurs as inevitably to us is, as to what Jesus will do or say under these circumstances. The woman before Him is criminal, caught, condemned, and for the moment callused.

        As thus we wait and watch and wonder, we see the Lord doing an apparently strange thing. Without uttering any word, He stooped and bending over, He wrote with His finger upon the ground.

        These men had brought this woman to Jesus, and had asked from Him what He had to say in view of Jewish law. According to that, her condemnation was that she should be stoned. Their question was concerned with His opinion on that matter. They were really attempting to place Him on the horns of a dilemma. The law according to Moses had definitely said that a woman guilty in that way was to be stoned to death. The Roman power had taken away from the Jewish people the right to inflict the death penalty. In passing we remind ourselves that that was why at last they went to Pilate concerning Jesus. When later on, in madness, they took Stephen and put him to death, they were breaking the Roman law. In view of all this it will be seen that if Jesus said that this woman must suffer the penalty Moses had commanded, they could charge Him with running counter to Roman law. If on the other hand, He said that such penalty was not to be executed, they might charge Him with lowering the standards of morality.

        It was under these conditions that He first of all maintained a silence, and bending over, wrote with His finger on the ground. As once more imagination helps one, the woman can be seen watching this procedure, and in all probability there was some change coming over the look of callous defiance which had been there when they brought her.

        These men, however, were determined to have an answer. They kept on asking the same question. Then He rose, and spoke to them. In doing so He compelled them to the more important matter of their act of bringing this woman; and its possible issue according to Mosaic Law. Standing between competing laws, the Roman and the Jewish, He referred neither to the one nor the other, but in the presence of them He enunciated an eternal principle. He did not contradict the Law of Moses. He did not suggest that tenderness of heart might be a reason for abrogating its requirements. He uttered this statement: "He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone."

        Now it is of vital importance that here we pause in order that we may accurately apprehend the thing that our Lord had done. The woman was before Him, standing, watching, and almost surely wondering. He did not discuss the Roman Law. He did not discuss the Mosaic Law. But He declared that there was only one condition upon which any should have the right to ultimate judgment and the infliction of punishment; and that condition was that of sinlessness. We need to remember that the word our Lord employed here was one which we translate by two. Our translation reads "He that is without sin." That phrase, "without sin" is one word in the Greek, and it is the only place in the New Testament where it occurs. It suggests far more than freedom from committing sin. It means freedom from sin in nature as well as in experience. These men who had brought this woman to Jesus were far more interested in trapping Him in some way than they were in catching her. To them then He said in effect, in answer to their question; If according to Moses this woman should die by stoning, then let the sinless among you first cast a stone. Thus, though He did not discuss the law, either the Mosaic or the Roman, He declared an eternal principle namely that sinlessness is the condition of exacting a penalty.

        There was forever something in the very presence of Jesus, and in the way in which He spoke that brought men face to face with reality. By His enunciating of this principle these men were impaled.

        We turn to look at the woman, and find her still there waiting, and almost surely wondering. If when He spoke of being sinless His application was intended only in the particular moral realm involved in the sin of the woman, then these men were called upon to face their own history and experience. In His enunciation of His own ethic He had said: "Ye have heard that it was said, Thou shalt not commit adultery; but I say unto you, that everyone that looketh with desire hath committed adultery."

        One can imagine the effect produced upon these men by such a judgment. Then at the risk perhaps of criticism I cannot help saying the fun began. If objection be taken to the statement, then it seems to me that those objecting, lack all humor. Personally I cannot follow this account without being filled with happiness. Suddenly I see a procession of men passing out of the Temple in single file. The account declares that they: "Went out one by one, beginning from the eldest, even unto the last."

        That may mean that they were still standing upon the dignity of precedence, granted to age. Personally I am inclined to think that the eldest went first because he had most sense. As they went, the Lord is seen once more bending over, and writing on the ground. There is an old legend that He wrote the name of some town, or some woman, and that these men seeing it, were brought face to face with His full and intimate knowledge, and therefore they hurried forth. Necessarily there is no proof of this, but it is at least a suggestive account. The one definite fact is that their exit was their own confession of unfitness to carry out the sentence upon this woman.

        At this point the account definitely says: "And Jesus was left alone, and the woman, where she was in the midst."

        This is a revealing way of saying that the crowd was still there, but that for all vital purposes, Jesus and this woman were alone. As we look at them we are conscious of an almost appalling contrast. He, absolute and incarnate Purity. She, confessed, incarnate impurity. He was the only One Who, according to His own principle, had the right to cast the first stone at her. These arresting men dared not do it. They had gone. He was sinless. We wait almost breathlessly for what will happen next.

        He asked her two questions, I think in quick succession, for they are in their entirety, one. He said: "Woman, where are they? Did no man condemn thee?"

        As we listen, the first word arrests us, "Woman." We find other occasions on record when our Lord used that word, but always in the accents of respect and tenderness. He used it to His Mother in Cana! He used it in addressing the woman of Samaria. He used it again to His Mother on the Cross. He used it to Mary on the resurrection morning. He used it now. By all the laws and opinions of men she had forfeited the right to that very name. We can think of all sorts of objectionable epithets that might have been applied to her. He used the word that invested her with beauty and dignity, in spite of the fact that He knew exactly her condition.

        There was surely a touch of playful irony in His first question, "Woman, where are they?" He was drawing attention to the fact that she was alone with Him. He had excluded her accusers. Then in that loneliness He referred to these men who had gone, when He said, "Did no man condemn thee?"

        Then there fell from the lips of the woman the only words she is recorded to have uttered. They had brought her in sullen silence. All these things had happened, and now in answer to His second question, she said, "No man, Lord." It is perfectly true that the word "Lord" might oftentimes be accurately rendered Sir. Here, I think, however, it may be taken with its fuller value. She realized at any rate that she was standing in the presence of One infinitely superior. It was then that He uttered His final words: "Neither do I condemn thee; go thy way; from hence-forth sin no more."

        Two things were involved in these words of Jesus, and the second follows the first.

        The first was, "Neither do I condemn thee." The word here rendered "condemn" is a very strong one not often found in the New Testament. Indeed, its only places in the Gospel narratives are when our Lord used it concerning the generation, when placing it in contrast with Nineveh, and the Queen of Sheba; when He was anticipating His own death, and when the sentence actually passed upon Him, was referred to. It is further used by New Testament writers to describe the penalty of unbelief in Him. The idea of the word includes the finding of a verdict, and the passing of a sentence.

        The one absolutely certain thing is that in uttering this word, our Lord was not lowering the standard of moral requirement, or in any sense condoning sin. As an aside I am ever inclined, when I read this sentence, to put an emphasis upon the word "thee," "neither do I condemn thee." They had brought this woman to Jesus, and declared that she had been caught in the very act of sin. If this were true, then another was involved. Where was he? They had no right to bring her alone into the presence of Christ. I do not desire to over-emphasize that application, for it certainly is not a final one. Nevertheless it is a question that may very pertinently be asked today, when over and over again, the woman is condemned, and the man is dined.

        But what He said meant infinitely more than that. It was the refusal of the sinless One to condemn the sinful one, and that can best be explained by quotation from the pen of an inspired apostle. In the letter to the Romans, Paul wrote: "There is therefore now no condemnation to them that are in Christ Jesus." (Rom. 8:1)

        If perhaps it should be objected that when our Lord spoke, the sacrificial work of the Cross was not accomplished, that view should be corrected by a recognition of the fact that in the mystery of the Godhead and its redeeming activity, the "Lamb was slain from the foundation of the world." I have not come, said Jesus, upon another occasion, to condemn the world, but that the world may live through Me. In that moment our Lord put Himself between that woman and her sin on the basis of that eternal fact: "No condemnation, Oh my soul, Tis God Who speaks the word."

        But God never speaks that word idly. Behind the action of God and the speech of Jesus is all the mystery of His mission as finally manifested in His Cross.

        Then followed the second word: "Go thy way; from henceforth sin no more."

        He was indicating the fact that a new pathway was open before her, and again if we turn to the letter to the Romans we find the secret revealed. Not only was it true that there was no condemnation, it was equally true that there was a new empowerment, a new life, which was that of ability to overcome sin. We do not know anything about what subsequently happened to her on any documentary evidence. We cannot tell where she went when she left those Temple courts. This we do know that wherever she went, she went out a new woman, the resentment gone, and the defiance at an end; she passed forth to the future pardoned, cleansed, forgiven, empowered for the coming days.

        The account is full of perpetual value. If some shall read it knowing themselves to be criminal, caught, and condemned, let them remember that they can be alone with Christ. He excludes all others from any right of interference. Such souls may receive His word of forgiveness, and receive His power for life.

        Perhaps someone reads the account who is not caught, not condemned by the laws of man, who yet is criminal. Let such an one also stand in the presence of Christ, and facing the truth concerning his or her condition, yield to Him as Savior and Lord, and receive from Him the word of freedom and the word of power.

THE FATHER AND THE BOY IN THE VALLEY AND THE PHYSICIAN

THE FATHER AND HIS BOY IN THE VALLEY

Matt 17:14-20

Mark 9:14-29

Luke 9:37-43

 

 

        In this account we see our Lord in contact with a father, and with his boy. The principal revelation is that of our Lord's dealing with the man, whereas of course, deliverance was wrought in the case of the boy.

        This account is told by Matthew, by Mark, and by Luke, Mark giving the more detailed and vivid account. It is, however, important to observe, because of its bearing on our article, that the three evangelists place the incident at exactly the same point in the ministry of our Lord. This is significant. We are all fully aware that the chronology of the Gospel stories is not easy of arrangement. Matthew and Luke especially, wrote their Gospels from a definite standpoint of revelation, in the case of Matthew of the King, and in the case of Luke of the Son of man as the Savior of the world. Therefore each of them introduces some account at a given point, which may not be in chronological sequence. Here, however, is the record of something that happened, and they all place it in direct connection with the account of the transfiguration. It is, as I have said, most important that we keep that in mind, because of the bearing of the fact upon the matter under consideration.

        Before examining the account in detail, it is best to reconstruct so far as that is possible, the whole scene presented to our view. In order to that we need necessarily, not only the more detailed account found in the record of Mark, but those also of Matthew and Luke, adding as they do, some details not given by Mark.

        It is so wonderful a picture that is presented to the mind that I have often wished that some artist would put it on canvas, and have connected it in my mind with Frank Salisbury whose mural work is so well known. Simply as a scene it is unquestionably an amazing and most remarkable one. In the background is Mount Hermon. Without entering into any argument concerning it, I am assuming that of which I am quite convinced that the transfiguration of our Lord took place on Hermon, not as so often stated, on Tabor. It was there that Peter made is great confession, and from there they had descended to the valley where this incident took place. Consequently, in any painting of the picture, Herman should be seen, snow-capped, in the background.

        Then as we look at the picture we are necessarily arrested by the central figure, that of our Lord Himself. In depicting this figure in this particular picture I am inclined to think an artist would have somehow to represent some of the after-glow of the Mount of Transfiguration still resting upon Him. That is how I understand the statement of Mark: "Straightway all the multitude, when they saw Him, were greatly amazed, and running to Him, saluted Him."

        I am well aware that many reasons have been given for that amazement, but to me the simplest, and therefore the most satisfactory, is that which I have now suggested. While it is true that the disciples who had been with Him on the mountain, had been charged not to talk about what they had seen. I think the amazement caused was created by some unusual appearance of the Lord. When Moses came down from the Mount, his face shone, and he didn’t know it was. The declaration that they were greatly amazed is an arresting one. In passing we may say that the Greek word here used for "amazed" only occurs four times in the New Testament, and they are all in the Gospel of Mark. This is the first occurrence. We find it again in the 14th chapter when it is said that Jesus was amazed in Gethsemane. The third occurrence is in the 16th chapter, when we are told that the disciples looking into an empty tomb, except for the presence of an angel within it, they were amazed. The last occurrence is found in the words the angel spoke to them, when they were in that condition, as he asked them, why are you amazed? The real significance of the word is not that of surprise. Rather that of an ever-haunting fear, as of the vision of something so unusual as to be appalling. As the crowds looked at Jesus when He had thus descended from the Mount of Transfiguration, and stood in their midst, they were amazed. I repeat, I cannot help believing that some after-glow of the mountain experience was still visible in Him.

        Turning from our observation of the central Figure, we see two groups of people gathered there, opposed to each other. First we see a group of the scribes, and these were questioning and discussing quite evidently, with the disciples. The word questioning may be most accurately rendered disputing. As we look at these men, it is inevitable that we see in their very countenances something of skepticism. This is created by their view of the disciples on this particular occasion. We turn to look at these disciples and we find them to be a company of defeated men. A case of demon possession had been brought to them, and they were quite unable to deal with it. It goes without saying that their defeat had produced in them a sense of defection. The scribes hostile to Christ and to His followers, were seizing upon this opportunity of the defeat of the disciples of Jesus to dispute with them. These two groups must be clearly seen.

        Then we come to the very center of everything, and there we see two human beings, a father and his boy, the former filled with a terrible sorrow by reason of the suffering of his boy, and the boy quite helpless and undone. I repeat that the scene in itself is a great subject for an artist.

        Now to summarize the whole account as it is revealed in the scene. It presents to us helpless and defeated humanity. That is focused in the picture of the boy and his father. In the presence of that the scribes themselves are defeated, though they certainly would not have described themselves in this way. They are defeated in the sense that they are quite unable to deal with the situation presented by this father and his boy. All they can do is to enter into some discussion with the disciples of Jesus. They could not do anything to help the boy or his father.

        As we have seen, the disciples were also completely defeated. The boy had been brought to them, and they were unable to exercise any power that would set him free from his evil case.

        The father is utterly helpless. It is impossible that we should be merely drawing upon our imagination when we say he had done everything he knew how to help that boy. Moreover he would willingly have given his own life if it had been possible by so doing, to set the boy free from demon possession. But he was quite helpless.

        Necessarily the utmost illustration of helplessness is that of the boy himself. Thus the whole picture is that of defeated and helpless humanity in the presence of evil. But we look again, and we have the vision of the victorious Lord as He appeared on the scene. We might spend much time in attempting to see Him in His own Person. All that must, however, reverently be taken for granted, and we watch Him in connection with the situation. His first words were those of rebuke: "O faithless generation, How long shall I be with you? How long shall I bear with you?"

        The words were general, and included in their sweep were His own disciples, the disputing scribes, and the suffering father and his boy. He spoke out of the consciousness that He was living in a generation without faith. The cry constituted a soliloquy coming out of the very heart of Jesus; revealing His consciousness of the difficulties in the midst of which His work was being done. We may turn aside for a moment here to remind ourselves that all the ministry of our Lord was conducted in the midst of difficulty, which appeared all the way to be too great, and to produce continued defeat. When today I hear people talking of the failure of the Church, I am always inclined to remind them that by all human standards and measurements from beginning to end, the ministry of Christ was characterized by failure. Necessarily we know now that what appeared to be failures was a continuous progress towards an ultimate victory. This is true of the Church also.

        After this word spoken to the generation, our Lord turned to the father, asking him a question, and receiving his answer. He then addressed the underworld with absolute authority, which not only set the boy free from his evil case for the moment, but commanded and secured the continuity of that freedom, for He said: "Come out of him, and enter no more into him."

        Thus the authority of the Lord was revealed in the presence of that which had defeated the father, His own disciples, and the scribes. He did what none other could and that with quiet authority and power.

        Now let us turn to observe this man and his boy a little more carefully. As we look at the father we first necessarily are impressed by his suffering. The case of the boy appeals to us because of its entailment of suffering, but in the last analysis it is the suffering of the father that is the most outstanding fact. Luke tells us that he referred to his boy as "mine only child,” which phrase might be most accurately rendered "mine only begotten son." This description is, in itself, arresting, in view of the Person of our Lord. He was the only begotten Son of God, and here He is seen in the presence of a demon-possessed only-begotten son of a man. The reference is made here, however, to emphasize the fact of the suffering of this man in the presence of the madness and physical torment of his child.

        Then as we look at him, and listen to him, we know of his sense of bitter disappointment. He had brought his boy to the disciples, and they were beaten. The arresting fact is that while they were beaten that day, they had in the past accomplished the very time they were unable then to do. When Jesus had sent them out, He had given them authority to cast out demons, and they had done it. But here was an hour in which they were helpless and paralyzed. Hence the sense of bitter disappointment filling the heart of the father.

        Once more it reveals his mind, as he employed the language which expresses a lonely hope. It is the language of hope, but it is pitiful, as the result of his disappointment. He had told Jesus about the child, and his terrible sufferings. He had thus revealed to Him the agony of his heart; and then he cried out: "If Thou canst do anything, have compassion on us, and help us."

        When he first spoke to our Lord he had said, "I brought unto Thee my son," and then he said: "I spake unto Thy disciples that they should cast it out; and they were not able."

        Evidently the first intention of the man was not to brine him to the disciples, but to the Lord Himself. When he arrived, Jesus was not there. His representatives were there, but they were helpless. Now he said: "If Thou canst do anything."

        In the very saying there is revealed the wonder or fear in his heart, created by the failure of the disciples. One can almost imagine the working of the man's mind. It is as though he were thinking, "I came with the boy. I brought him in hope. I felt that if I brought him to Thee, there might be hope. But Thou wert not here. Thy followers were here but they could not do anything. Does that mean that Thou hast lost Thy power, or that all the accounts I have heard were not true?" All this seems to lie within that expression, "If Thou canst." In that sense, therefore, it was a definite appeal and an appeal of hope, and yet hope that was struggling against fear, and almost mastered thereby.

        Then when Jesus replied to him in words which we shall consider next, he cried out: "Lord, I believe, help Thou mine unbelief."

        It was a venture made with the consciousness of its weakness. Thus we see the man suffering, disappointed, having a lonely hope in the midst of his sorrow, and then making the venture of a faith which he himself was conscious, was characterized by weakness.

        Turning from our contemplation of the man we look at the boy. In this connection it is an arresting fact that the Lord asked the father how long the boy had been in that case. Necessarily we know that He did not need information. There was, undoubtedly, however, a reason for the question, and the reason was that there should be clear understanding of how desperate a condition he was in. The father answered, "From a child," which quite literally means from his birth. Thus we see that the possession of this boy by an evil spirit, with all its terrible consequences, was not the result of personal sin. For the moment I am attempting no explanation of the fact, but am facing it. In that boy in the valley we stand in the presence of suffering not resulting from the wrongdoing of the sufferer. We may say that our world is full of this kind of experience. Nevertheless we may say in passing, that all such suffering has some explanation in racial relationships. Thus the boy is revealed utterly beyond the reach of human effort, suffering mentally and physically through no wrong of his own; while behind it all the mystery of evil, having this terrible manifestation.

        As we turn from our contemplation of the father and his boy to watch Christ, we necessarily return for a moment to the point at which we began our article. The significance of this event in the valley following immediately the experience of the Mount of Transfiguration is related thereto in a remarkable way. As we look at the Lord we see the One Who had reached the experience of transfiguration. No other human being had ever been transfigured. It is quite true that we make use of this word in other ways, and there are senses in which this may be permissible. We see someone who perhaps has endured suffering, passing into the place of restoration and we speak of them as transfigured.

        It is a beautiful poetical word, but inadequate to express the experience through which our Lord had passed. I repeat none other had ever been transfigured. In the Old Testament we read that Enoch walked with God, and he was not, for God took him. He was translated by an act of God, not transfigured. We read of Moses whose face shone after communion with God, but he was not transfigured. There never has been any other transfiguration in the full sense of the great word than that of our Lord Himself. To understand the meaning of the experience we may quite properly change the word transfiguration, and do so by transliteration. To do this is to read to read that He was metamorphosed; the whole of the form was changed, and in that change God's second Man had come to the perfect realization of human nature, according to the Divine ideal. Immaculately conceived, innocent in the true sense of the word in childhood, holy as against all temptation, He at last reached the true consummation of human life according to Divine intention. He was metamorphosed. From that mountain top Jesus might have passed into the life that lies beyond, without dying.

        He it is Who is now seen standing in the midst of the crowd. He had left the mountain, and so far as it is possible in human language to express the truth, we may say that He Who had been metamorphosed, had resumed the form which had been changed, the form in which death was possible. The One we look upon, therefore, was not only the Man of the mountain height of transformation. He was the One Who had turned His back upon it for some great purpose. On the mount we see Him talking with Moses and Elijah, and the subject of conversation was that of the exodus He was about to accomplish in Jerusalem. Even there in all the glory of the perfect victory and realization of His humanity, His face was set towards the valley and the Cross. He was the only begotten Son of God even in His human nature that is the Only One Who had realized the Divine intention in His Sonship, and He is now seen confronting the only begotten son of man demon-possessed. He was the One Who had reached the mountain height, but Who had left it with His face set to the valley.

        In dealing with the father He first asked the question to which we have already referred, emphasizing the appalling condition of the boy as He received the answer that told Him he had been in that case from a child. Then when the father cried out in his anguish: "If Thou canst do anything, have compassion on us, and help us," our Lord replied: "If thou canst! All things are possible to him that believeth."

        It will be observed that I have slightly altered the emphasis as is revealed in the changed punctuation. Our Lord was not now telling the man that all things were possible to him if he believed. But He was declaring the profounder fact as to why things were possible to Him, when they were impossible to others. The man had said, "If Thou canst" to which our Lord in effect replied that the principle of ability in this universe is that of perfect faith in God. At the beginning of the incident  He cried out "O faithless generation." Now He said, "All things are possible to him that believeth." It was because He Himself believed in God in the full sense of the word, that there was no wavering, no failing, no halting, and no hindrance. He was in contact with Almighty power. We call to mind the fact that these miracles, or wonders, or powers that Jesus wrought were wrought by God through Him, and that is because of His perfect faith. On the day of Pentecost this truth was declared by Peter, when he said: "A Man of Nazareth, approved of God unto you by powers and wonders and signs which God did by Him in the midst of you."

        He did not say He did these things, but declared that God did them, acting through Him. It was by the power of God that the demon was cast out of this boy. That power operated through His Son to Whom all things were possible because of His faith in God. One day we shall be just like Him.

        It was then that the father cried, "Lord, I believe"; and knowing that his faith was by no means complete, he added, "Help Thou my unbelief." He had seen something of the truth of the principle declared by Jesus, and in reply, in effect, he said, If that be so, then I venture, I believe; and yet I am conscious that the belief is imperfect; there is something which is holding me back, something which is still raising questions. Therefore, help Thou mine unbelief.

        Our Lord's reply to that was immediate. He turned to the boy and dismissed the demon. The word was one of full and complete authority, accompanied by victorious power, so that the thing was done for the boy, which could not be done by father, disciples, and certainly not by critical scribes.

        Then we are told He stretched forth His hand, and took the boy by the hand. Very beautiful is the way in which Luke tells what happened. "He gave him back to his father."

        The whole account is ultimately wonderful in that it is not only matter of history, it has microcosmic value. It is something far more than the narrative of an occurrence in the long ago. In itself it is an unveiling of the reason for and the exercise of perfect power by our Lord. The inter-relation of the mountain and the valley here is clearly marked. Jesus is seen as the Man of absolute perfection, Who came to the fullness of humanity's stature in transfiguration. He is seen, however, there as not counting His realization something to be taken and held to His own advantage. There in human life as in the mystery of His Deity, He emptied Himself by denying Himself, and set His face to the valley. Herein is the eternal secret of the power of Christ. He is the sinless One as the mountain testifies. He is the redeeming One as the valley witnesses.

Thank God Himself for coming down off that mountain. Thank You Jesus!

THE SYROPHOENICIAN WOMAN & CHRIST

THE SYROPHOENICIAN WOMAN

Matt 15:21-28

Mark 7:24-30

 

        There are two matters which arrest us in the account of the Syrophoenician woman. The first is that the event took place on the occasion of an excursion of Jesus outside strictly Jewish territory. Tyre and Sidon was a region outside the economy of the ancient people, resting even then, as it had done for centuries, under the curse of God. The journey which Jesus took to reach the region was one of at least fifty miles over mountainous country, and almost impassable roads.

        The second impressive fact in the account is that this was an occasion upon which He deliberately sought rest and retirement. This Mark makes perfectly clear: "From thence He arose, and went away into the borders of Tyre and Sidon. And He entered into a house, and would have no man know it."

        If we consider this statement in the light of the context, we find on the human level, the reason. Hostility to Him had become more and more bitter. The days were crowded days, and so for a while He left the country of the privileged people to whom He was commissioned as the Messiah. Necessarily, we remember that in the ultimate meaning of that commission the entire world was included; but He began at Jerusalem with the ancient people of God. Here was an occasion upon which He sought retirement and quietness, by crossing the borderline into Tyre and Sidon.

        The woman to whom the account introduces us was an outcast from the Jewish standpoint. We read that she was a Greek, which simply means in this connection that she was a Gentile. Her actual nationality was Syrophoenician, and therefore her religion was pagan. We see our Lord then taking a long journey with His disciples, leaving for the moment the people to whom He was first specially sent, and coming to this region beyond the boundary line He was brought into contact with this woman.

        It is quite evident, however, that even in this region He was known, for we read that: "He entered into a house, and would have no man know it."

        However the statement of Mark which we have already quoted is ended with the declaration that "He could not be hid."

        This is a most arresting statement. We are led to ask immediately why it was that He could not be hid. The declaration is not a reference to the crowds of people that may have been surrounding Him. We know from other accounts that He could always be hidden if He so desired. For instance, we read in the eighth chapter of John how, when hostile crowds were thronging round Him, and they were attempting to arrest Him, Jesus hid Himself. On this day, however, "He could not be hid."

        I am emphasizing this statement by way of introduction because the answer to our question as to why He could not be hid becomes self-evident in the account itself. He knew the facts concerning this woman, and although He had sought retirement, He could not remain therein, while that woman was outside in her agony and need. In such cases He could not be hid. In that connection we may remind ourselves of the situation already referred to as recorded by John, when it is written He hid Himself. From intellectual pride and opposition He forever hides Himself. In the presence of human agony, when it makes its appeal to Him, He cannot be hid.

        In looking at the woman we take first the accidental things that is, the things of her circumstances and condition.

        As we have said, she was a Gentile, which means of course from the standpoint of the writings of these evangelists, she was outside the covenant of Israel. We remember that Paul divided the human race into Jew and Gentile, for the purposes of his argument. So did all these writers in their thinking. This woman, then, was outside the privileges created by covenant relationship with the ancient people of God.

        Then she was a Syrophoenician. That tells the account of her religion. The Syrophoenicians were all worshippers of Asherah, sometimes called Asheroth, and sometimes referred to as Astarte. Astarte was the moon goddess. The worship of the moon goddess began in the admiration of beauty, for all these false religions had something underlying them in the matter of their beginnings, which was worthwhile. Astarte was always conceived of as the goddess of beauty. We have to keep in mind, however, the fact that at this period the whole idea had degenerated. These Syrophoenicians were affected by, and indeed, to a large measure, shared the Greek philosophy and outlook which declared that three things were of utmost importance. First, freedom from all restriction; second, a complete expression of whatever may be found within human nature; and so, finally, all those experiences resulting from these two matters.

        Many years ago Dr. Hugh Black, then of Edinburgh, wrote a book called "Culture and Restraint." In that book he contrasted the Hebrew ideal with the Greek. The Greek ideal was that of culture, the cultivation of anything and everything within human personality, without any restriction whatever, that is, without restraint. To put it in the common phraseology, it was the philosophy of letting oneself go, independent of all opinion and and law. The ideal of the Hebrew was that of restraint, that is government of personality by law. Dr. Black showed how in Christ the two ideals merged, culture, but under restraint; and consequently, restraint in order to culture. The religious atmosphere in which this woman had been born and brought up, declared that instinct and passion were perfectly right, and were to be indulged in, without any restraint whatever. The worship of beauty had become the worship of everything thought desirable, within human personality, of which life was capable. All that is undoubtedly suggested by the declaration of the evangelist that this woman was a Syrophoenician.

        Turning from these matters, and looking at the woman as she stands revealed in the account, necessarily our first impression is that of her love. Here was something inherent in her motherhood; and in itself it was quite independent of her religious position. The account pulsates with the revelation of the suffering of this woman in the presence of her afflicted child. As she said, "My child, afflicted with an unclean spirit," we hear the wail of a mother's love. Thus we see manifested in this woman what I do not hesitate to call the universal good. We find it everywhere in humanity, however degraded that humanity may be. In passing one has to admit there do seem to be exceptions not alone in what we speak of as pagan countries, but in our own land. One does meet mothers who seem to have no love for their children, and who abandon them. I am not speaking of some distressed woman who abandons a baby on a door-step. That may not prove the absence of love. I am thinking rather of supposedly refined women who abandon their children to the care of servants and others. In spite of these exceptions, however, it is true that the love of motherhood is universal in human life. It was clearly manifested in the case of this woman. She was outside the covenant of Israel, but she was a mother. There was no one to whom she could turn among the privileged people, whose conception of motherhood was holy, but she was a mother, and was consumed by the love of her heart for her child.

        The next thing that we observe about this woman is her faith. Perhaps we should hardly have seen this had it not been that at this point we hear Jesus saying to her, "O woman, great is thy faith." How she knew Him we are not told. Mark does tell us earlier in his account, in chapter three, that people had come to see and hear Jesus from Tyre and Sidon. Evidently some of these people now knew Him. The way the account is told would suggest that she had not been among the number of such, because we are told she had heard about Him. Her faith is manifested in an activity, based upon conviction. That is always faith. If there be no conviction, faith is impossible. If conviction, however, produces no activity, then there is no faith. When conviction compels an activity, we have the evidence of faith.

        Again, watching the whole process, we discover that she was a woman of tremendous will power and persistence. This is seen in the way in which she refused to be deflected from the purpose that had brought her to seek the Lord.

        And once more, it is evident that in this hour of her dire necessity, she was entirely disillusioned as to the value of her own religion. Her child was possessed by an unclean spirit. She knew the hopelessness of Astarte in the presence of such a condition. Beauty meant nothing to her now, for ugliness was incarnate in her own offspring. She was conscious that the expression of passion was of no avail.

        We do not know, but it is at least possible that the existence of the child was due to her own conception of life, that of giving expression to passion, and gaining experience. Be that as it may, the fact remains of her consciousness of helplessness in the presence of her need. It is an arresting picture, because there are thousands of people living in that realm today, pictured in a Hollywood lifestyle. Experience and expression, passion allowed to have its full fling, no restriction. These people often speak of their condition as being one of freedom. Well, it may sound and seem excellent so long as the sun is shining. When the storms gather, there is no value in it. This woman had lived in that atmosphere, but now in the hour of her dire need, because of the suffering of her child, as Mark says, she had heard of Jesus, and now she heard that He had crossed the border-line, and was in the region of Tyre and Sidon.

        When we turn to the contemplation of our Lord's dealing with this woman, let us honestly say that we find it a very startling account. Our first feeling as we read it, is that it does not seem to harmonize with all we know of Him. His first speech concerning her approach to Him does not sound like Him. That feeling, however, is the result of superficial understanding of the account. If we watch Him carefully we shall understand what He was doing, and the ultimate result proves the intention that He had in the whole of His attitude. It is often a good thing to look at a result in order to understand a process. That I think will be true of life in its entirety at this point. When we reach the life that lies beyond, we shall understand the processes through which we have passed, as we cannot understand them now. The ultimate result in the case of this woman is found in His final words to her, and His act of power through which the deliverance came that she sought. When that is kept in mind we find the interpretation of the method He adopted in dealing with her.

        In His method we are conscious of what appeared to be His hesitations. I am not suggesting that there was any hesitation in His mind as to His ultimate intention; and, of course, there was no hesitation really, but His method seems to suggest it. The first thing we read was that when she first came: "He answered her not a word."

        Then His disciples besought Him to interfere and to send her away; and to them He replied: "I was not sent but unto the lost sheep of the house of Israel."

        So far He had addressed no word to the woman. The request of the disciples is in itself an interesting one. It may be that they were conscious of His desire for retirement, and therefore pleaded with Him to grant this woman's request, in order that she might go.

        Then, when the woman made her appeal more urgent, "Lord, help me," He replied to her: "It is not meet to take the children's bread and cast it to the dogs."

        That does, to our ears, sound a harsh thing to have said. Even here, however, let us remember that the word He used for dogs was not the common one, but a diminutive, and one that had in it something of the note of tenderness. In those Eastern lands the dog was always looked upon with contempt, that is, the wild; marauding dogs that were a positive menace to society. But in all those houses there were little dogs that had their place. When our Lord spoke thus to the woman, He did not use the word that described the ferocious dog, but that which referred to dogs admitted to the household.

        What then, we ask, was our Lord really doing? And we reply at once that by the very apparent harshness He was creating an opportunity for the complete activity of her faith. At this point He said to her, "O woman, great is thy faith." He knew that faith through all the processes. I declare without any hesitation that if He had not known it, He would not have adopted this method. We have really a remarkable illustration of how He adapted His method to the need of those with whom He was dealing. Here was a woman. a strong character, and great faith. He knew her. He was giving her the opportunity to proceed alone the line of her own confidence, until she reached the point of full and complete expression. His silence when first she came was not refusal. Indeed, He had come outside the house, because she was there. He might have refused to see her. He needed retirement, but could not be hid.

        Matthew tells us that she said in her approach: "Have mercy on me, O Lord, Thou Son of David."

        He made no response to her, but speaking to the disciples, He said: "I was not sent, but unto the lost sheep of the house of Israel."

        That statement in itself was remarkable, that He was sent, not to the house of Israel, but "to the lost sheep of the house of Israel." As we consider this statement we may call to mind a later hour in His ministry, when after controversy with the rulers in the case of the man born blind, He had instituted a new order of things, and had said to the listening Jews, possibly to their unutterable surprise.

        "Other sheep I have, which are not of this fold; them also I must bring, . . . and they shall become one flock, one Shepherd."

        It was to these lost sheep that He was sent. Here the objection may be stated that this woman was not of the house of Israel; and at once we recognize that this is true so far as the relation of the flesh is concerned. At this point, however, we see her receiving from Him in an act of power, a blessing that proved that spiritually she did belong to the house of Israel as the result of faith. She was one of the lost sheep.

        In addressing her, what He said would seem to number her among the "little dogs." Let us keep in mind that these were the playthings of the children, and were constantly found around the tables in the homes. He told her that it was not fitting to take the children's bread and give it to these little dogs. Now we observe how His method was vindicated in the victory He gained. It may be said that it was her victory, and that is so; but that is what He was aiming at; and when she gained the victory of her persistence, He had gained His victory.

        Against His silence she persevered. Against His apparent exclusion of her by what He had said to His disciples, she still persevered. When addressing her, He had seemed as though He was putting her out of the realm of the possibility of receiving help from Him, she still persevered. When He said: "It is not meet to take the children's bread and cast it to the little dogs," she said: "Yea, Lord; for even the dogs eat of the crumbs which fall from their master's table."

        That was the point when her faith reached its ultimate, and rained its victory; an old Puritan writer says of her answer that it was characterized by the wit of faith. She had come to Him against prejudice, she persevered against silence. She persevered further against apparent exclusion: and at last with scintillating wit, which means with a vision to the heart of truth, she had consented to be numbered among the little dogs, under the master s table; but declared that even they partook of the crumbs. Thus all His method was vindicated as her faltering faith had persevered, until it had become victorious faith.

        It is worthy of note that when she first spoke to Him she addressed Him as "Son of David." That was the peculiar Messianic description of Him. Evidently she was familiar with this, although herself not of the Hebrew people. It was to that application He made no reply. At this point she dropped that designation, and out the ultimate plaintiveness of her appeal into the word, "Lord, help me." That was not Messianic; that was universal. It was the cry of a human soul to One in Whose presence she recognized the presence of the Lord.

        To that cry He gave the answer of power, and revealed the secret of it, as He said: "O woman, great is thy faith; be it done unto thee even as thou wilt."

        At that point this woman passes out of sight, but we see her travelling home, and watch her as she found the reward of her faith in the evidences of the power of Jesus. She had left her child possessed by an unclean spirit, twisted and contorted, and possibly in the paroxysms of passion. She returned to find her laying on the bed, resting, the demon gone, her life one of quietness and peace.

        In this account we see our Lord turning from the infidelity of traditional orthodoxy to a faith found in pagan surroundings. The rulers within the covenant people were in opposition to Him. They lacked faith, and remained infidels in the presence of the wonders and signs of His mighty works and words. Turning from them, He found in pagan surroundings, a faith that drew from Him the commendation, "O woman, great is thy faith."

        This remains a revelation for all time. Our Lord is ever doing this self-same thing, and will continue to do it when orthodoxy is cursed by infidelity. Over and over again He finds faith in surroundings that orthodoxy condemns.

        The great teaching of the account is that faith is the principle of life, and not race. She was not of the chosen race. She lacked all the things of privilege. Nevertheless she made a venture upon the basis of a conviction, and by the activity of that faith came into vital relationship with the Lord and His power. It remains true that wherever men or woman make that venture on the basis of that conviction, they too enter into such relationship with Christ which makes them of the seed royal, of the race eternal, of the very people of God.

        Surveying the account, we remember that He had said to His disciples: "I was not sent but unto the lost sheep of the house of Israel."

        His action in this case was no departure from that high commission. Outside the fold of Israel He had found a member of the flock of God. He had fulfilled the function of His office in its wider sense.

        When He had said to her, "It is not meet to take the children's bread and cast it to the dogs," and she had replied: "Even the dogs eat of the crumbs that fall from their master's table."

        He did not give her the crumbs, but the children's bread.

        Whenever a soul, whatever its background may be, however pagan, and apparently contrary to past revelation, in its agony seeks Him, "He cannot be hid." That is the lesson of this account. Let it sing its song in every heart

THE WOMAN WHO TOUCHED THE PHYSICIAN

THE WOMAN WHO TOUCHED

Matt 9:20-22

Mark 5:25-34

Luke 8:43-48

 

        While the account of this woman is closely related to that of Jairus, the two personalities are so distinct, and their circumstances so different, that we are taking them in separation.

        In the case of Jairus we watched our Lord dealing with a man of standing and position, a ruler of the synagogue. In this we have a very striking contrast. He is here seen dealing with a woman of no standing, of no position at the moment; as we shall see more distinctly next, she was an outcast. In the case of Jairus He was dealing with a man who in his home had had twelve years of happiness in the life of his child. In this case we see Him dealing with a woman who had had twelve years of sadness and suffering. The period of her trouble had been as long as that of Jairus' joy. In the case of Jairus we saw Him dealing with a man who, in the hour of desolation, sought the help of Christ, and found it. In this case we see Him dealing with a woman who made a great and daring adventure in coming to Christ, which venture was rewarded.

        Our attention, then, is first fixed upon the woman herself. The account is in some senses a technical one. Matthew, Mark and Luke all tell us the fact concerning her, which it is easy for those of us who may be in health and strength to read, without grasping its significance. She was suffering from an issue of blood. In the Leviticus 15:19-27, we find careful instructions as to how any persons suffering from any form of that malady were to be treated. They were to be segregated from the company of worshippers so long as it continued. That was not a punitive provision, but rather a hygienic arrangement. This woman had suffered from such a malady for twelve years, and therefore had been for that period segregated in certain ways. The law as given to Moses had been overlaid by attempted interpretations and traditions. There was a popular misconception concerning that particular form of disease that it was always the result of sin. The view was based entirely upon the medical opinion of that day, interpreted by rabbinical interpretation of such cases. There is no warrant whatever for adopting such a view, but it was held at the time. That her case was a serious one is proven, of course, by the fact that she had suffered for twelve years. Luke, himself a doctor, declares its hopelessness as he says, she "could not be cured of any." The doctors had, in all probability, done their utmost for her, but had failed. It will be remembered, too, that Mark, in telling the same account, tells it in a different form as he says: "She had suffered many things of many physicians, and had spent all she had, and was nothing bettered, but rather grew worse."

        Necessarily, no doctor would state the case in that way, but it agrees perfectly with the doctors' finding.

        Now, as a consequence of this false view, this woman's segregation was first of all excommunication from the Temple and the synagogue, with their religious rites. Moreover, by the law of the Rabbis, for the same cause she was divorced from her husband, and shut out from family life. All this inevitably meant that she was ostracized by society.

        We know nothing more concerning this woman than what appears in this account. Legendary lore has been busy with her, and as is so offer the case its suggestions are full of beauty. Legend has it that her name was Veronica, and that she handed to our Lord her handkerchief to wipe his face when He was on His way to the Cross. Of course we have no means of knowing, and possibly it is only a legend. We know concerning her definitely, only the things that we have been considering and those may be summarized by repetition of our earlier statements, that she was an outcast.

        The twelve years had been years of struggle, which had ended hopelessly. She had spent all that she had, which necessarily means that at the time she was reduced to poverty. As we look at her, we, therefore, unquestionably see a woman not only helpless but hopeless after these long and agonizing years. This is the woman whose life for twelve years had been ebbing away, weak and waning and emaciated, who we see coming to Jesus.

        Mark says, "Having heard the things concerning Jesus." That was the inspiration of her great adventure. We are not told that she had ever seen Him before. Possibly she had, but Mark's suggestion would lead us to think otherwise. She came, "having heard the things concerning Jesus."

        Now we may ask, what had she heard? We must remember that by this time His fame was spread abroad through all the countryside. Everyone was talking about Him. If we glance back for a moment chronologically, there are certain things that had taken place, of which in all possibility, she had heard. He had entered the house of Peter, and raised from the bed of fever his mother-in-law. He had come face to face with a leper, and had communicated cleansing to him. He had raised from the dead the son of the widow of Nain. He had cast the demon forth from a demoniac. He had stilled the storm on the lake one day, and again had cast forth the evil spirits from a man terribly possessed. She may have heard of all these things. This woman, then, ostracized, divorced, excommunicated, probably through no sin of her own, but through widespread misconception and misunderstanding, this woman who, having tried everything, and spent all her money in doing so, heard about Jesus. On the basis of the reports concerning Him there came to her a conviction that if she might make contact with Him, there might be hope even for her. Matthew and Mark tell us that that conviction within her was a very clear one, for they tell us that she said: "If I touch but His garments, I shall be made whole."

        This woman was amid the thronging crowds. These crowds were surrounding Jesus, and moving with Him as He passed on His way to the house of Jairus. In the movement of the account the disciples referred to these crowds as thronging Him and pressing Him. It is impossible to read this account without being amazed in some senses how a woman in so weak a condition managed somehow, moved by the new hope springing within her, to get near enough to reach Him as He passed.

        Then the narrative tells the account of the contact she made, and Matthew, Mark and Luke use the same word. We have rendered it in each case, "touched." Now I want us to realize that that word gives an entirely wrong impression of what she did. The idea conveyed by our translations is that she merely touched the edge of His robe. To begin with, the Greek word does not mean a touch of that kind. Whereas it may not sound so understated, the force of the Greek word would be far more accurately rendered clutched, or grasped. This is what the woman had been saying in her heart, that if she might grasp His garment, she would be made whole. Her word suggests an action of force and of desperation.

        Again, the word rendered "border" has a definite signification, and it is not that of a hem or edge. It is the word kraspedon. In Numbers 15:37-39, we find instructions in the secondary law, which was nevertheless obligatory, which provided that the members of the nation should wear upon the fringe of their garments a tassel bound with blue. It is that word which in the Septuagint is rendered kraspedon, and one was found at each corner of the garment worn. This garment was flung across the shoulders, so that one of these tassels hung in front, one on the left, one on the right, the last falling at the back of the wearer. Now there can be no question that our Lord wore such a garment, and that He Who was born under the law, was obedient to its commandment, concerning the wearing of this kraspedon, with its cord of blue. It was that which the woman grasped as He passed her by. According to the law, that kraspedon was indicative of the loyalty of the wearer to the requirements of God; and in His case had its superlative significance. She grasped the kraspedon, and that was the act of a great adventure, a great daring, a great resolution. She had been saying to herself, if I grasp but His garments, I shall be made whole. Now He was close at hand. She saw Him passing. She saw His garment. She saw the cord of blue in the tassel, and somehow forcing her way through the thronging, jostling, crowds, she grasped that kraspedon.

        Immediately she found her confidence vindicated, for the trouble of the long twelve years was over. Her blood was staunched, and she knew it. She endeavored to slip quietly away. She had gained that for which she came.

        So we see this woman, an outcast and helpless, hearing about Jesus, coming to the conviction that if no one else could do anything for her, He could; seizing her opportunity as He passed her way, grasping the kraspedon, and immediately finding the healing she sought.

        Then, as we turn our eyes upon the Lord, to observe His dealing with her, we see that His action, unseen of the crowd, but realized by the woman, preceded any word that He uttered. His first answer to her coming and her confidence was that, to use His own words, strength, power, dynamic, which is the Greek word, had passed from Him. He had responded to the approach and the action in the way that vindicated her confidence, and gave her healing.

        But He was not done with her. In His walk with Jairus He halted, and asked what we may accurately describe as a divisive question, and we see as we proceed that the question implicated a requirement laid upon the woman herself. When she had heard the question, and replied to its implication, He uttered to her His final words.

        The question which we have described as divisive, was the question, "Who grasped Me?" for He employed the same word which we are told she had used as she had thought of Him. In effect He declared that someone by an act of definite faith, had fastened upon Him, and had immediately found the response of power coming forth in healing from Him.

        It may be said that the woman's thought was a somewhat superstitious one, that she had heard of the great Healer, and of the wonderful things He had done, that she had felt that there was some mystic power upon Him, with which if she could but make contact, there would come healing to her. Even if it be admitted that there was an element of superstition in what she was saying within herself, it is best to remember that at the heart of superstition there may be faith. And where that is so, our Lord will always answer the faith, and correct the superstition.

        When this question was asked by our Lord, Peter and the rest made an astonished protest. Whereas probably Peter was the spokesman, Luke makes it perfectly clear that in their opinion the disciples were unanimous. All they said was apparently most reasonable and sensible. They asked Him in effect what He could mean when He suggested that someone in that jostling crowd had made contact with Him. The probability was as they intimated that during the period of that walk, with these people thronging and pressing upon Him, many had made contact. Nevertheless His question revealed that someone had done far more than press upon Him and crush Him. Someone had made such contact with Him as to draw the answer of power from Him. His question proved that He knew the difference between the jostle of a curious mob, and the contact of a soul in need and in faith.

        But His question was also a requirement. The woman was quietly slipping away, having gained the healing she sought.

        Of the healing she was certain, but perhaps desired to get away from the crowd, in order to realize the fullness of the thing that had been done. When, however, she heard His voice asking this question, she knew that something more was necessary. She came in front and she came trembling. We must remember that she was already healed, and she knew it. She felt the healing power pulsing through her body, and overcoming her weakness. When Jesus healed He did it perfectly. Her healing was complete. As we see her in obedience to His question, coming before Him, we see her trembling, and we are inclined to ask the reason of that trembling. We may at least suggest one answer to such question. She knew that according to rabbinical law, her touch had defiled Jesus. The law provided that no person, with that particular form of disease, must touch any other person. Any such contact was supposed to convey defilement to the one so touched. Nevertheless she had dared the action, dared the rabbinical law, and had grasped the kraspedon on the robe of Christ. She had thus made contact with Him. Necessarily we know that her contact had not defiled Him. His purity was never negative; it was positive. When the enemies of our Lord said upon occasion, "This Man receiveth sinners," they were complaining, because their view was that in such contact with sinning men, He would contract their defilement. The wonder of His personality is seen in the fact that in such contact He never contracted defilement, but rather communicated purity. The touch of the woman, therefore, had communicated none of her defilement to Him, but He had communicated to her the cleansing and life-giving power. This she knew came forward, and openly confessed.

        Such confession was and always is necessary. It is possible that someone in a great crowd may make contact with Christ, and receive the very spiritual health that they are seeking. They may even at the moment slip away; but sooner or later it is essential that they should bear witness to the fact. Spiritual health is always for the express purpose of perfect worship.

        It was, however, important in this case, among other reasons because Jairus was standing there, probably feeling impatient at the delay. The value to him we saw in our study concerning him. When immediately after the journey was resumed towards his house, and the news was brought to him that on the human level it was too late because his child was dead, surely there would come to him the memory of the confession made by that woman, that she had received healing.

        So we reach the final words of Jesus to her. These need studying from the records of Matthew, Mark, and Luke. They all tell us that He addressed her as "Daughter." It is the only occasion on record when we are told that He used such an expression. Matthew tells us that He said, "Be of good courage." Mark and Luke tell us that He said, "Go, in peace."

        Now let us remember that her circumstances were still very doubtful. The healing was sure. She was made whole, but she was still penniless, she was still friendless, she was still divorced; she was still excommunicated by rabbinical law. Whether for the moment she herself was conscious of these things we are not told, but the Lord knew and understood. He knew how difficult it was for one who had fallen upon to be received back into respectable society for it takes repentance on their part. As in the case of the woman in the house of Simon, we saw that Simon could not see the woman as she then was, because he was looking at her as she had been; so it would be in the case of this woman. She was penniless, still ostracized in spite of the fact that she was healed. How would society treat her? How would her family look upon her? How would the religious rulers contemplate her? So far as they were concerned, she was still outside. But Jesus had said "Daughter!" and by the use of that tender word He had recognized her adoption into the family of God. We have no further authentic account of her, but it is impossible not to realize that in coming days, all other considerations would be insignificant by the fact that He had called her "Daughter." This temporary society that I must put up with is momentary in comparison to the society that I just entered by faith and is eternal and permanent.

        Moreover, He had charged her to be of good courage. Whatever fear might possess her, concerning her uncertain future, and on account of human opinion concerning her, and doubts toward her, He told her that there was no reason for fear.

        He then pronounced the word of healing. She was already healed, but in His pronouncement He perhaps corrected any superstition that had lurked in her mind, prompting her to come to Him. She had said, if I fasten upon His garments I shall be made whole. He said in effect, No, it was your faith which made the contact and was answered by healing. The physical was only the sacramental symbol of the spiritual and that spiritual attitude and activity is the secret of healing.

        He then used the same formula that He had used to the woman in the house of Simon. Not as we have rendered it, "Go in peace," but "Go into peace." Even though for the moment it may be that her consciousness was that of healing rather than that of complete peace, He indicated the fact that she might enter into peace on the basis of all that had happened. She was still excommunicated, still divorced, still ostracized; and in all probability she would not find it easy to find restoration to these realms. But she was now His adopted daughter. She had received from Him complete restoration, and she heard from Him the word that made her gloriously independent of all minor considerations.

        These accounts all constitute definite history, but their chief glory and value is that they give us age-abiding illustrations of the attitudes and activities of Christ. This thing that happened so long ago as a matter of history is probably being repeated in this very reading audience. We may say, without any question, that the multitude is thronging and pressing upon our Lord. That is why we are gathered together each day to read. Our presence proves our interest, and there is absolutely nothing wrong in such interest. But it may be, hidden away in the crowd from all other than the Lord Himself, someone is stretching out the hand of faith conscious of great and over-whelming need. That man, that woman, whatever may be the spiritual or moral malady, can find healing as instantaneously and perfectly as the woman found when the issue of her blood was stopped.

"She, too, who touched Thee in the press, And healing virtue stole,

Was answered-'Daughter, go in peace,

Thy faith hath made thee whole.'

Concealed amid the gathering throng,

She would have shunned Thy view;

And if her faith was firm and strong,

Had strong misgivings too.

Like her, with hopes and fears, we come

To touch Thee, if we may;

O send us not despairing home;

Send none unhealed away."