25 Our Lord at Table
XXV OUR LORD AT TABLE
Simon one of the Pharisees desired our Lord that He would eat with him. And He went into Simon’s house and sat down to meat. And when Simon asked his guest if He would say grace, our Lord lifted up His eyes to heaven, and said something like this,--Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all His benefits. Who satisfieth thy mouth with good things, so that thy youth is renewed like the eagle’s. He causeth the grass to grow for the cattle, and herb for the service of man. And wine that maketh glad the heart of man, and oil to make his face to shine, and bread which strengtheneth man’s heart. The eyes of all things wait upon Thee, and Thou givest them their meat in due season. Thou openest Thine hand and satisfiest the desire of every living thing. And having so said He then sat down to meat. When William Law was invited out to a meal in the England of his day, this was the way he used to hear and to see grace said at the table :--"In one house you may perhaps see the head of the house just pulling off his hat. In another, half getting up from his seat. Another shall, it may be, proceed so far as if he said something. We can hardly bear with him that seems to say grace with any degree of seriousness, and we look upon it as a sign of a fanatical temper if a man has not done as soon as he has begun." Simon the Pharisee had many faults, but he would have grace said at his table in a very different way from that. For my part, I am entirely of Charles Lamb’s mind in this whole matter of saying grace and returning thanks :--"I want a form of grace for setting out on a pleasant walk, for a moonlight ramble, for a friendly meeting, for a solved problem. Why have we not a grace for a good book? Why have we not a grace before Milton, and another before Shakespeare, and another before the Fagrie Queen?" Whether, therefore, we eat, or drink, or whatsoever we do, let us do it all to the glory of God. Our Lord on one occasion spoke to His disciples about Caesar. "Give unto Caesar," He said, "the things that are Caesar’s." And let us give unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s in the matter now in hand. Plutarch, Caesar’s best biographer, tells us that the greatest of the Caesars was a delicate eater. On the other hand—Behold a gluttonous man, and a winebibber, said some evil-tongued men who fed their souls on lies and slander in our Lord’s days. The best comment on that abominable utterance I ever met with is what I came on in Seneca the other day. "Men say that Solon and Archilaus were given to wine, and Cato himself has been taxed by his enemies with drunkenness. But he who says that about Cato shall, in saying that, rather prove that drunkenness is a virtue, than that Cato indulged himself indecently." That is surely one of the noblest answers to a slander ever given. And I know no better answer to the slander circulated against our Lord. Let all be imitators of our slandered Lord. First in saying grace, and then in eating and drinking. Let us be imitators of Caesar also, so far as he was a delicate eater. And so far as there was a Roman decorum and a Roman refinement and a Roman daintiness of manner at all those tables where their Stoic chaplains first said grace and then ate and drank and then returned thanks,--let us be like them.
Imagine yourselves invited to sup with Simon on that same occasion. Imagine yourselves set down within eyeshot and earshot of your Lord. Imagine you see and hear Him saying grace and then sitting down to eat and drink. But especially as He goes on to talk, and to listen to you talking at the table. Others, elsewhere, Psalmists and Stoics, might very well have said much the same grace as He said, and might have eaten with much the same decorum and delicacy. But I defy you to get listening like His, and talking like His, anywhere in all the world outside of Simon’s doorposts that night. To begin with, what perfect courtesy our Lord showed to all men around that table that night. You would have thought that the house and the table belonged to Jesus of Nazareth, so attentive and so thoughtful was He to every one who came in. Whether you had got water to wash your feet when you came in or no; whether Simon had anointed your head with oil as you came in or no; you soon forgot all about that as soon as you came near Jesus of Nazareth. You could not account for it, but you were soon saying to yourself that you had never felt so much at home, and so happy at a great man’s table before. It was Jesus of Nazareth who made all the difference to you. Simon, with all his great house, and with all his bread and wine, had no heart; and having no heart he could not make any other man’s heart happy. But then Jesus of Nazareth was all heart. And, what with His full heart, and what with Simon’s full table; the combination of these two things made that a most satisfying and a most memorable supper party. Be sure to bring heart with you to every table where you sit down. Be sure you first show heart to God in the way you say grace or hear it said, and then go on to show the same heart to all who sit with you at the table.
And, then, what approachableness and affability there was in our Lord. What topics would come up all that night in conversation, and how wisely and well He would handle them all; and always taking less than His proper share in them all. The latest newsletters from Rome; the latest caravans from Jerusalem; the talk of the passing day in the town where He now was; who had died that day, and who were to be married to-morrow; the way He took vexing news and news that distressed Him, and the way He took news that pleased Him; the kind of subjects He would dwell upon, and the kind of subjects He would let pass without remark; the kind of judgments He would pass on public men and public matters, or would not pass; and so on. "It is almost a definition of a gentleman to say that he is one who never inflicts pain. He carefully avoids all clashing of opinion, all collision of feeling, all restraint, all suspicion, all gloom, all resentment. He has his eyes on all his company. He is tender toward the bashful, gentle toward the distant, and merciful toward the absurd. He can recollect to whom he is speaking; he guards against unseasonable allusions, or topics which might irritate; he is seldom prominent in conversation, and he is never wearisome. He makes light of favors while he does them, and seems to be receiving when he is conferring, he never speaks of himself except when compelled, never defends himself by a mere retort; he has no ears for slander or gossip, is scrupulous in imputing motives to those who interfere with him, and interprets everything for the best. Nowhere shall we find greater candor, consideration, indulgence. He throws himself into the minds of his opponents, and accounts for their mistakes." Now if that is on the whole a good definition and description of a gentleman; then if you had supped with Simon that night, you would have found a perfect gentleman beside you; if not in Simon the Pharisee, then in his guest your neighbor Jesus, as He was then called, of Nazareth.
Alexander Knox dwells in one place on what he calls the "gaiety" of John Wesley. At first sight one is somewhat startled at such a word as "gaiety" being applied to the great awakening preacher. And yet a new and an unusual word is very useful sometimes, if only in order to exhibit another side of some man’s character than that side which we usually see. "I will acknowledge," says Knox, "that nothing but the clearest evidence of deep piety could have made this gaiety of Wesley’s suitable. But I must also think that as it was in him nothing but such piety could have produced it. Wesley’s gaiety was what could only be seen in one who felt his religion to rest upon the whole nature and fitness of things, and felt himself at rest in his religion." Now whether we would venture to say that our Lord showed gaiety at Simon’s supper table that night, sure I am He showed no gloom. And if gaiety is the opposite of gloom, then let gaiety stand. Nor was His gaiety due to Simon’s wine which made gay the hearts of all the other men. His gaiety was all due to that which is better than wine; that is to say His own loving-kindness. There was a sunshine and a glow in His face, and a melodiousness in His voice, and a good humor beaming out from Him in all He said and did. A good humor that made Him the Master and the Ensample and the Justification of Luther, and Wesley, and William Guthrie of Fenwick, and Alexander Stewart of Cromarty, and Spurgeon, and all such evangelical gay souls. Geniality might be a somewhat more seemly word than gaiety to apply to our Lord. But at bottom both words are one and the same thing. And both go to the composition and the color of that so genial parable of His in which He has such gay strokes as these: "Bring forth the best robe and put it on him; and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet. And bring hither the fatted calf, and kill it, and let us eat and be merry. And let music and dancing be heard in the house. And they began to be merry." And that too with a mirth that shall never cease nor run stale. Our friends the Wesleyans will not resent too much what Alexander Knox says of their father and their pattern-saint. May they all share in John Wesley’s gaiety; and may all their best gaiety come from the same source; from the same deep and solid peace with God, and with one another, and with all men. Our Lord’s saying grace, and eating and drinking, and courtesy, and decorum, and affability, and geniality--all that I can easily imagine and realize, with more or less clearness to myself. But how I would have watched Him as this topic of conversation and that arose all night at that table. For I feel sure there is nothing in which we are all of us more unlike Him than just in the way we carry on our conversations at table. A holy man used to say when he returned home from a night of table-talk that he would never accept such an invitation again, so remorseful did such nights always leave him; so impossible did he find it for him to hold his peace, and to speak only at the right moment, and only in the right way. And, without his holiness, I have often had his remorse, and so, I am quite sure, have many of you. There is no table we sit at very long that we do not more or less ruin either to ourselves or to some one else. We either talk too much, and thus weary and disgust people; or they weary and disgust us. We start ill-considered, unwise, untimeous topics. We blurt out our rude minds in rude words. We push aside our neighbor’s opinion, as if both he and his opinion were worthless, and we thrust forward our own as if wisdom would die with us. We do not put ourselves into our neighbor’s place. We have no imagination in conversation, and no humility, and no love. We lay down the law, and we instruct people who could buy us in one end of the market and sell us in the other if they thought us worth the trouble. It is easy to say grace; it is easy to eat and drink in moderation and with decorum and refinement; but it is our tongue that so ensnares us. For some men to command their tongue; to bridle, and guide, and moderate, and make just the right use of their tongue, is a conquest in religion, and in morals, and in good manners, that not one in a thousand of us has yet made over ourselves. But that One in a thousand sat at Simon’s table that night. And, much as I would have liked to see how He acted in everything, especially would I have watched Him how He guided, and steered, and changed, and moderated, and sweetened the talk of the table. For he who can at every table do that is a perfect man, said one who had often watched our Lord at table, and had at last learned of Him. And it may very well have been the contrast that James experienced in himself and in all other men, to what he saw every day in his Divine Brother; for my part, I believe it was nothing else than that which made that Apostle speak with such passion on this subject. As thus :--"If any man among you seemeth to be religious, and bridleth not his tongue at table, this man’s religion is vain. If any man offend not in word at table, the same is a perfect man, and able to bridle the whole body. The tongue is a little member, but it boasteth great things. Behold how great a matter a little fire kindleth! Who is a wise man among you, and endued with wisdom? Let him show out of a good conversation his works with the meekness of wisdom." I always think of James and his General Epistle of morals and of manners, as having been copied out from his eldest Brother’s life at home, and especially at the family table. And I always trace his hatred of an "unbridled and an uncivil tongue" to his own lifelong remorse for his own unbridled and uncivil tongue, when he and his Redeemer were brothers together at home and at the family table. Now, if any man among you wishes to be religious in this matter; if any man among you has been taking seriously what has been said tonight, let him go home and lay to heart and begin to practice the third chapter of James. And along with it Bishop Butler’s universally neglected, but universally applicable, sermon on the misgovernment of the tongue. John Cairns read "Butler’s .Analogy" once every year. If you would all read his sermon on the tongue once every year, and practice it every day, you would even yet become before you die what James calls a perfect man. And you would at last be found worthy to sit down with your Lord at His table above.