John 11:47–48
EVER SINCE the Lord’s first appearance, he encountered malicious opposition from the Pharisees and elders. The higher the sun of his activity rose, the deeper grew their hostility. For he had nothing in common with them, nor they with him. They wanted a brilliant, political messianic kingdom; he demanded repentance and a change of heart. They looked for pleasure and power; he demanded obedience and surrendered faith in his divine mission. Thus their hostility rose to the point of murderous hatred. Already when he had been in Jerusalem previously, they had wanted to stone him. He had escaped their clutches at that time, for his hour had not yet come, and he still wanted to allow them a time of grace. Then suddenly he appeared once more before the gates of the royal city in quiet Bethany, where by raising Lazarus his divine majesty was made to shine more gloriously than ever through the garment of lowliness. This deed was a powerful sermon without words, addressed to his nation; it was the last shaking call to his city: “Awake, Jerusalem!” If she did not grasp this last warning, there was nothing for it but that judgment should break in.
The raising of Lazarus roused tremendous excitement in the people, and many believed in the divine victor over death. But that very fact fanned the hatred, which the ruling classes had nursed for so long, to fanatical rage. A meeting of the council was held, and while the Lord was by the Jordan preparing to drink the cup of suffering, here in the den of hatred the poisoned drink was made ready for him. “What should we do?” asked the elders of Israel. But these men did not ask in order to discover the truth but in order to suppress it; they did not ask in order to find God’s will but in order to force through their own wicked will. They admit: “This man performs many signs; everyone will believe in him.” But instead of hastening to him and placing their hearts and lives at his service in adoration, they consider how to cause his downfall. They do this only to maintain their own influence over the people and so defy the hated Romans in their own way.
It happens still today that human hearts and political parties, filled with passionate hatred, stifle the voice of truth and conscience to find a favorable opportunity for a crime they have already decided on. But we want to flee from such purpose as from the plague. We would rather suffer and die with the Lord than live and rule without him or against him.
8
Saturday Evening
The High Priest’s Counsel
But one of them, Caiaphas, who was high priest that year, said to them, “You know nothing at all. Nor do you understand that it is better for you that one man should die for the people, not that the whole nation should perish.”
John 11:49–50
THERE IN THE MEETING of the council a pertinent answer is found to the question, “What are we to do?” Caiaphas, the High Priest, listened for a long time to the excited speeches. Now he rose and said, “You know nothing at all. Nor do you understand that it is better for you that one man should die for the people, not that the whole nation should perish.” Some of the council may have secretly had the same thought but not dared to express it openly. Caiaphas, however, shies away from nothing. It is all one to him whether they do right or wrong, whether they fulfill the law or bring bloodguilt upon themselves. His decision is certain. Earthly power must be secured even if heaven is lost in the process. If the agitated populace is to be restored to order and the authority of those in power maintained, then Christ has to die. That is the radical expedient. As always in such meetings, strength prevails. Caiaphas’s suggestion forces its way through, and the most terrible crime of the human race, the murder of the Messiah, is decided.
The whole meaning and purpose of this murderous decision can be summed up in Caiaphas’s remark: one for all. Yet “one for all” rang also in the shining depth of the heart of God. Caiaphas had to prophesy because he was the high priest. Without knowing or wanting it, he had to disclose God’s eternal counsel of grace. All people have sinned and deserve death, but God will not let himself be robbed of his most beloved creation by Satan’s power and cunning. His heart is filled with pity for the whole race of his lost children. For this reason he prepared the one who is the head of all. He alone is pure and has done nothing to deserve death. Nevertheless he wants to die for all, for he is love. He is able to die without perishing, because he is life. His death is valid for all in the sight of eternal justice, because he is more than all, and because all are one in him. If he dies, all have died in his death; if he lives, all live in him. This is Jesus of Nazareth, God’s Son and the Son of Man.
One for all – that is now the comfort of all who have faith. What a dark mystery life and death would be without this word! But if the inscription “one for all” is placed over the manger and the cross, how clear everything becomes.
How could we dare to call ourselves God’s children if Christ were not born for us? How could we believe in the forgiveness of our sins if he had not atoned for us? How could we approach death with tranquil hearts if he had not died for us? Yes, “Christ for us” – “One for all.” That is the great fact of salvation through which the world is saved, our human race is newborn, our life is blessed, and death is overcome. Whoever grasps this One in faith has everything that he needs both here and in eternity, peace on earth and blessedness in heaven.
First Week of Lent
9
Sunday Morning
The Anointing
Six days before the Passover, Jesus therefore came to Bethany, where Lazarus was, whom Jesus had raised from the dead. So they gave a dinner for him in the house of Simon the leper. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those reclining with him at table. Mary therefore took a flask of expensive ointment made from pure nard, and poured it on Jesus’ head as he reclined at table, and anointed his feet and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.
John 12:1–3
THE LORD WAS ON HIS LAST JOURNEY from Jericho, the city of roses, to the peaceful little village of Bethany, whose name means “house of palms,” situated on the Mount of Olives just an hour’s walk from Jerusalem. There, on the Saturday before Palm Sunday, Simon the leper had a feast prepared in his honor. This act of hospitality and joyous acknowledgment of Jesus required courage, for the council had already issued a warrant for the Lord’s arrest (John 11:57). But at this supper he was safe and surrounded by grateful love.
The circle included the host, whom he had healed of leprosy; Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead; the disciples, whom he had chosen; and Mary and Martha, who so gladly served him. Here the Lord was granted a short time of peace and quiet with his own before the outbreak of the last storm. But the joy of the company was dampened by vague forebodings aroused by what the Lord had said about his suffering and the obvious plots of the enemy.
Mary in particular was seized with melancholy, and her love rose to its highest peak. She had with her a costly treasure, an alabaster flask filled with oil of nard. At the urge of her love she broke the glass and poured the ethereal contents over the head and feet of her Savior. In doing this she also broke the outward forms of womanly reserve in order to envelop him completely in the fragrance of her love. He had anointed her soul with the words of his spirit; she anointed his head with the nard of her love. He had dried her tears at her brother’s grave; she dried his feet with her hair.
Wherever believing souls gather in unanimity today,
