01.07. Chapter 6. The Selfish Neighbour and the Unjust Judge

Chapter 6.
The Selfish Neighbour and the Unjust Judge Or, the Certainty of an Ultimate Answer to Persistent Prayer for the Coming of the Kingdom. At what precise periods in the ministry of our Lord these parables were delivered we have no means of determining. There is no ground for assuming that they were uttered at the same time, or that either of them was spoken in close proximity to the parable last considered. But the kindred character of the two parables obviously justifies us in studying them together, and their didactic import equally justifies us in taking them up at this point They form a most appropriate sequel to the parable of the blade, the ear, and the full corn, which teaches that growth in the kingdom of God, whether in the individual or in the community, is gradual and slow. For the progress of the kingdom in both spheres may be said to be the great subject of all Christian prayer, and thus retarded progress will mean delay in the answering of prayer. And it is the experience of such delay in the case of those who earnestly desire the progress of the kingdom, and the temptation thence arising to cease from praying, with which these two parables have to do. That experience is the occasion of their being uttered, and to meet the temptation springing therefrom is their common aim. Understanding this we have the key to the true interpretation of these parables; failing to understand it we shall miss the mark. The expositor must start with the assumption that an experience of delay in the answering of prayer is presupposed in both parables; that the men to whom they are spoken are men who have discovered that God has to be waited on for the fulfilment of spiritual desire. We state this categorically at the outset, because the fact may escape the notice of one who looks merely on the surface of the parables, and has regard only to their express statements. No mention is made of delay in the earlier parable; and while in the later words occur which imply the idea of delay when rightly interpreted,[1] they are words capable of a different interpretation, and likely to receive it from one who does not come to the parable with the conviction in his mind that what makes exhortations to perseverance in prayer needful is, and can be, nothing else than experience of Divine delay in granting the things sought after. Such a conviction, therefore, it must be the first business of the interpreter to furnish himself with. And surely this ought not to be very difficult! It requires little reflection to see that no devout man can be seriously tempted to cease from prayer merely because he does not obtain what he asks in a few minutes or hours or even days. The temptation can arise only after a sufficient time has elapsed to leave room for doubts as to the intention of the Being to whom prayer is addressed to grant the desires of supplicants. In the case of the man who knocked at the door of his neighbour seeking bread, a few minutes sufficed to produce such doubts. But in the spiritual sphere a much longer time must elapse; even years may be required to put a Christian in a state of mind analogous to that of the man who stood at his neighbour’s door—in the state of mind which makes such counsel as our Lord gives in these parables eminently seasonable. How long it will require Jesus does not state; we are supposed to learn that from experience; and in point of fact those who need the comfort of these parables do so learn, and have no need that any one should tell them.

[1] Luk 18:5; last clause, καἰ μακροθυμεῖ (or ων) ἐπ αὐτοῖς—though ho delay in their cause: vide the exposition of the parable.

While both directed against temptations to cease from prayer arising out of the tardiness with which growth in the Divine kingdom proceeds, these two parables have nevertheless in view two distinct classes of experiences. The one contemplates experiences of delay in connection with individual sanctification, the other addresses itself to similar experiences in connection with the public fortunes of the kingdom. That the parable of the Selfish Neighbour has in view mainly and primarily the spiritual interest of the individual may be inferred from the closing words of the great lesson on prayer of which it forms a part: "How much more shall your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask Him."[1] The supposed object of desire is the Holy Spirit as the enlightener and sanctifier of individual disciples. Some critics indeed, having regard to the fact that in the parallel passage in Matthew the general expression "good things"[2] takes the place of the more definite phrase in the third Gospel, question the authenticity of the latter, and see in it only an instance of the colouring which Luke’s report of our Lord’s teaching received from his familiarity with and predilection for the Pauline system of doctrine.[3] And we admit that this reference to the Holy Spirit as the immanent ground of Christian sanctity, an almost solitary instance in the Synoptic Gospels, is fitted to arrest attention. This ethical conception of the Divine Spirit, as distinct from the Old Testament view of Him as the transcendent source of charismata, is, as Pfleiderer has pointed out, a characteristic feature in the Pauline system of thought. And probably it was due to Pauline influence that Luke recognised its importance by introducing it into his view of Christ’s teaching. But we need not therefore doubt the originality of the saying as given in the text quoted. The representation of the Holy Spirit as the supreme object of desire is in keeping with the whole circumstances in which the lesson on prayer was given. The evangelist tells us that it was after hearing their Master pray that the disciples requested Him to instruct them in the holy art. The request implied a consciousness of spiritual defect; and Jesus, knowing the religious condition of His followers better than they did themselves, proceeded to make provision for their wants by suggesting subjects of prayer to meet the lack of thoughts, by putting into their mouths forms of words to meet the need of dumb souls, and finally by furnishing inducements to perseverance in prayer to meet the need of men tempted to cease praying by the discouraging consciousness that the kingdom of God was coming in their hearts at a very slow pace. We cannot doubt, therefore, that the earlier of the two parables on perseverance in prayer has in view chiefly, we say not exclusively, the disappointing spiritual experiences of individual disciples. That the later parable, on the other hand, has a wider scope, and contemplates the general interests of the kingdom, is evident from the application: "And shall not God avenge His own elect, which cry day and night unto Him, though He bear long with them?"[4] The situation supposed is evidently that of the elect Church of God as a collective body, in a condition of widowhood, harassed and evil entreated by an unbelieving world, and receiving no succour from Providence; to all appearance abandoned to her fate by a God who, far from behaving towards her as a husband, does not even maintain the character of a just judge in her behalf.

[1] Luk 11:13.

[2] ἀγαθὰ: Mat 7:11.

[3] So Hilgenfeld, who characterises the phrase πνεῦμα ἄγιον as Gut Paulinisch. ’Einleitung,’ p. 503.

[4] Luk 18:7. The more exact rendering and interpretation of the words will be given in the sequel.

Wherever doubts concerning the utility of prayer engendered by delayed answers are felt, there painful misgivings regarding the reality of Divine love must force themselves on the mind. Hence these parables may be regarded as an attempt to reconcile with the facts of experience the doctrine of a paternal Providence. This doctrine, we know, Jesus taught with great emphasis and unwearying iteration, applying it both to ordinary life and to the higher sphere of the Divine life. As taught by Him the doctrine of a heavenly Father is very beautiful; but one conversant with the facts of life may be tempted to ask, Is it true? Beautiful words are those spoken by Jesus about a Father who will provide for those who devote themselves to His kingdom, and will give them all they need both for body and soul; words full of pathos and poetry, the bare reading of which exercises a soothing influence on our troubled spirits in this world of sorrow and care; yet are not these lyric utterances but a romantic idyll standing in no relation to real life? It may be right that we be thankful for them as springs in the desert. Nevertheless, the world is a desert all the same. Providence is anything but paternal; if there be, indeed, a Providence at all, which often seems more than doubtful. Jesus knew that such doubting thoughts would arise in good men’s minds, and He spake not a few words designed to heal them, and among these a chief place must be assigned to our two parables. These parables are, in intent, a defence of a doctrine which Christians often find hard to believe—the doctrine of God’s fatherly love; and as such they illustrate and vindicate the apologetic character which, in the commencement of these studies, we ascribed to the parables generally.

Much of the interest of the parables before us lies in their pathos as apologies for the doubted love of a heavenly Father, the deep sympathy with which the speaker enters into the moral situation supposed, and identifies Himself with and so mediates between both parties, the doubting and the doubted. Jesus, through the insight of love, knows perfectly the thoughts of His tried ones, and how God appears to them in the hour of trial; and He dares to describe the God of appearance as He seems in the midnight of temptation, taking the tempted up at the point where He finds them, and seeking to inspire hope even in desponding minds by suggesting a distinction between the God of appearance and the God of reality. And what Jesus has dared to do we must not hesitate to say that He has done. We must not shrink from saying that the selfish neighbour in bed and the unjust judge represent God as He appears to faith tried by delay. It is a great fault in an expositor to be over-anxious to say that God is not really selfish or unjust. Of course He is not, but only seems. But the point to be emphasised is that He does seem. The expositor who fails to emphasise this point is like Job’s friends, who in their stupid, prosing, didactic way defended God, saying, "Remember, I pray thee, who ever perished, being innocent? or where were the righteous cut off?"[1] And resembling them in their stupidity, he is apt also to resemble them in their injustice to the tried one. Too anxious to vindicate God, he does wrong to the tempted, instead of helping them with sympathy and counsel, by indulging in reflections to the effect, "Thus God appears to unbelief."[2] No, not to unbelief only, but to faith also in times of trial; to elect ones when deserted; to an elect Church widowed, helpless, desolate, her Maker for the time not her husband, or only a husband that is dead; to a Jeremiah asking leave to reason with God about His judgments;[3] to a Psalmist whose feet well nigh slipped when he saw the prosperity cf the wicked and the hard lot of good men.[4] By all means let commentators have sympathy with God, but let it not be a one-sided sympathy; let them have sympathy with God’s people also, as Jesus had when He uttered these parables; and let them not stand between His faithful ones and the comfort He designed for them in their hours of darkness and despondency.

[1] Job 4:7.

[2] So the learned but pedantic Stier (’Die Reden Jesu’). Very differently Olshausen remarks: The Saviour here places Himself on the standpoint of those who experience that God oft delays long with fulfilment of prayer, and describes Him as an unrighteous Being in accordance with the subjective feeling of the praying one, and gives his counsel in conformity therewith.

[3] Jer 12:1.

[4] Psa 73:1-28. With pathos often goes humour, and so it is in the parables before us. The spirit of Jesus was too earnest to indulge in idle mirth, but just because He was so earnest and so sympathetic He expressed Himself at times in a manner which provokes a smile; laughter and tears, as it were, mingling in His eyes as He spoke. It were a false propriety which took for granted that an expositor was necessarily off the track because in his interpretation of these parables an element of holy playfulness appears blended with the deep seriousness which pervades them throughout. With these preliminary observations we proceed to the exposition of the parables, spoken to teach that men ought always to pray, and not to faint. And first the parable of The Selfish Neighbour

Jesus said unto His disciples, Which of you shall have a friend, and shall go unto him at midnight, and say unto him, Friend, lend me three loaves; for a friend of mine is come to me from a journey, and I have nothing which I can set before him? And he from within shalt answer and say, Don’t trouble me: the door is already shut, and my children are with me in bed; I can’t rise and give thee. I say unto you, Even if he will not rise and give him, because he is his friend, yet at least[1] because of his shamelessness he will rise and give him as many as he needs.—Luk 11:5-8.

[1] On the force of the particle γὲ see further on.

It has been remarked of this parable, as of the Unjust Judge and many others peculiar to Luke, that in it the parabolic character is not strictly maintained, the fable passing into an example of the doctrine taught.[1] It has also been pointed out that the grammatical structure of the parable undergoes a change as it proceeds. Commencing with the interrogative form, it passes into the form of a narrative. Had the initial form been maintained throughout, the parable would have run thus: Which of you shall have a friend, and shall go and say to him thus and thus, and (if) this one shall reply so and so, (will not persist knocking and demanding until) he shall be glad to give him what he asks to get rid of him.[2] These defects in literary form and grammatical structure do not in the smallest degree detract from the value of the parable for the purpose in hand. It admirably illustrates the power of importunity, by showing how it can gain its end even in the most unpromising situation. The curiosa felicitas of the parable will best be made apparent by entering into a little detail, first in reference to the situation, and next in reference to the means by which importunity makes itself master of it.

[1] Weizsäcker, ’Untersuchungen,’ p. 209.

[2] So Godet, who further points out that if the narrative form be adopted throughout, the parable will run thus: If one of you has a friend, and say to him, &c., and this one reply, &c. (nevertheless), I tell you, &c. Unger (’De Parabolarum Natura,’ &c.) makes the Τίς ἐξ ὑμών the refuser and giver, not the asker; so that the parable runs: Who is there among you, who if a friend come and make such and such a demand, though at first annoyed, will not at length, on account of his importunity, give him what he asks? In order to show how extremely discouraging the situation is, it will not be necessary to lay stress on the hour of the night at which the petitioner for bread finds himself called on to provide for his unseasonable visitor. Travelling in the night is common in the East,[1] and it may be said to belong simply to the natural realism of the parable that the incident related is represented as happening at midnight. One cannot but remark, however, in passing, that it belongs to the felicity of the parable to suggest what it does not expressly teach, viz. that the comfort it is designed to convey to tried faith is available to those who find themselves in the very darkest hour of their spiritual perplexities.[2] But passing from this, we note the discouraging circumstances in which the man in need finds himself on arriving at his neighbour’s door. The difficulty which confronts him is not a physical one; that, viz., of finding his neighbour so profoundly asleep that it is impossible by any amount of knocking, however loud, to awaken him. His discouragement is, as the nature of the argument required it to be, a moral one; that, viz., of finding his neighbour, after he has succeeded in arousing him to consciousness, in a. state of mind the reverse of obliging, utterly unwilling to take the trouble necessary to comply with his request. The mood of the man in bed is most graphically depicted. It is the mood of a man made heartless and selfish by comfort. Comfortable people, we know, are apt to be hard-hearted, and comfortable circumstances make even kind people selfish for the moment. Jesus holds up to our view an illustrative example. And the picture is so sketched to the life that we cannot repress a smile at the humour of the scene, while fully alive to the deep pity and pathos out of which the whole representation springs. The man is made to describe himself, and to show out of his own mouth what an utterly selfish creature he is. First an ominous omission is observable in his reply. There is no response to the appeal to his generous feelings contained in the appellation ’Friend’ addressed to him by his neighbour. The man who needs his help calls him φίλε, but he takes good care not to return the compliment. How true is this touch to human nature as it shows itself in every age! The rich, who need nothing, have many friends, but the poor is hated even of his own neighbour.[3] The first words uttered by the man in bed are a rude, abrupt, surly "Don’t bother me." For so undoubtedly ought they to be rendered. We find the phrase, or one very similar, occurring several times in the New Testament: as in the parable of the Unjust Judge; in Christ’s speech in defence of Mary of Bethany against the censure of the disciples, who blamed the extravagance of her noble work, the anointing of her Lord;[4] and in the closing words of Paul’s Epistle to the Galatians.[5] In the two last places the words must be rendered in a dignified way, in keeping with the solemn tone of the speaker and writer. Jesus says, Do not vex Mary by finding fault with what she has just done. Paul, utterly weary of the carnality of religious contention, closes his Epistle with the sentence, Henceforth let no man cause me annoyances: for I bear in my body the marks of Jesus. "I too am a crucified man; let me have a crucified man’s privilege, and be done for ever with the troublers of Israel, and enter into the rest of the weary." But it would be out of keeping with the whole situation to put a dignified speech into the mouth of a man irritated by unseasonable disturbance of his nightly repose. We must make him speak as men usually do when they are out of humour, employing a vocabulary redolent of slang, and spiced with words not worthy to find a place in dictionaries. When he said μή μοι κόπους πάρεχε, he felt just as those do now who say in colloquial English, "Don’t bother me," or "Don’t fash me;"[6] and the same remark applies to the use of a similar phrase by the unjust judge.

[1] The journey homewards of the wise men of the East commenced during night, likewise the flight of Joseph (vide Mat 2:12-14). Kuinoel, in his commentary on this passage, refers to Hasselquist’s ’Reise nach Palästina’ in proof that the practice still prevails.

[2] On the spiritualising of μεσονυκτίου Olshausen remarks, that as Christ’s parables imply a fine intuition, it is a safe canon that no trait should be overlooked if it do not disturb the image of the whole. With this I concur; only we must always distinguish between the teaching of a parable and what I have called its felicity.

[3] Pro 14:20.

[4] Mat 26:10.

[5] Gal 6:17.

[6] So Farrar. His remarks on the parable are very racy. "He does not return the greeting φίλε; the expression μή μοι κόπους πάρεχε, ’Don’t fash me,’ is an impatient one: the door κέκλεισται, ’has been shut for the night;’ οὐ δύναμαι ’I can’t,’ meaning ’I won’t.’"—’Life of Christ,’ vol. i. p. 453, note.

Next comes a comically serious detailed description of the difficulties which stand in the way of complying with the needy neighbour’s request: "The door is already barred, and my children are with me in bed." Poor man, he is to be pitied! If it were only the mere matter of getting out of bed, it would be no great affair, now that he is awake.[1] But the unbarring of the door is a troublesome business, not so easily performed as the turning of a key handle, which is all we Europeans and moderns have to do in similar circumstances.[2] And then the dear children are in bed asleep: if one were to waken them, what a trouble to get them all hushed to rest again.[3] Really the thing is out of the question. And so he ends with a peevish, drawling "I can’t rise to give thee." His "I can’t" means "I won’t." The circumstances which hinder, after the most has been made of them, are utterly frivolous excuses, and it is simply contemptible to refer to them seriously as reasons for not helping a friend in need. But the very fact that he does this only shows how utterly unwilling he is, how completely comfort and sleep have deadened every generous feeling in his heart. And that he is capable of adducing such considerations as grounds of refusal is the most discouraging feature in the situation of the poor suppliant. It is a poor outlook for Need when Abundance so easily excuses herself for refusing succour. Alas, how sad to think that so much misery exists in the world unrelieved for no better reason! It is not that physical resources adequate to the purpose do not exist; it is that there is so much comfortable selfishness, which regards the smallest trouble or sacrifice as an insurmountable obstacle.

[1] And yet it is probably the rising out of bed that he really objects to. This crops out unconsciously in his concluding words: I am not able rising to give thee (οὐ δύναμαι ἀναστὰς δοῦναί σοι). On ἐγερθεὶς in Luk 11:5, Bengel remarks, Amicitia ad dandum impellere poterat: impudentia pulsare perseverans ad laborem surgendi impellit.

[2] On κέκλεισται Bengel remarks, Vecte olim, qui majore labore removetur.

[3] The idea of some commentators, that τα παιδία refers to servants, is not in keeping with the simple, homely character of the parable. Grotius, while rendering παιδία children, thinks that the idea meant by the reference is that there is no one at home who can without inconvenience give bread to the man at the door. But the purpose seems rather to be to suggest the risk of disturbing the children. But in the case of the parable comfortable selfishness for once finds itself over-matched by importunate want. The situation is desperate indeed when the person solicited for aid finds it in his heart to refuse it on such paltry grounds, But the petitioner has the matter in his own hands; he can make the unwilling one fain to give him whatever he wishes, be it three loaves or thirty:[1] not for friendship’s sake certainly, for of that there can be little hope after that contemptible "I can’t rise and give thee;" but for very selfishness’ sake to get rid of the annoyance and be free to relapse into slumber. How then? What are the means by which need is able to make itself master of the situation? One word answers the question. It is shamelessness, ἀναίδεια. Shamelessness, not in knocking at the door of a neighbour at such an hour,[2] for that may be excused by necessity, and at all events it has failed. The shamelessness meant is that which consists in continuing to knock on after receiving a decided and apparently final refusal. Think of it! the petitioner pays no heed to the excuses advanced and to the denial given. He knocks on without mercy and without delicacy, continues to knock louder and louder, hoping to compel his neighbour to rise and give him what he wants even out of a regard to that very comfort which he loves so dearly. How indecent! But necessity knows no restraints of a merely conventional kind, and success covers a multitude of sins. And of course the shameless one succeeds. For comfort’s sake his neighbour at first refused his request, and for comfort’s sake at last he will be fain to grant it. For how can he sleep with such a noise going on without; and what chance is there even of the children, deep and sweet though their slumber be, sleeping on through it all? The best thing to be done is just to rise and do reluctantly and tardily what should have been done voluntarily and at once.[3]

[1] Bengel on ὅσων remarks, Quotquot, vel si plures sint panes, quam quos summa necessitas postulat. Non incommodius est multos jam dare quam tres, unumve. There is a various reading here, some MSS. having ὅσον. With δσον the proper rendering is "as much as he wishes," with ὅσων "as many as he needs."

[2] So Bengel, noctu venientis.

[3] Christ’s purpose is not to assert dogmatically that the neighbour will not help his friend for any other reason, but to assert that he will certainly do it for the reason specified. This is the force of the particle γἐ in the clause διά γε τὴν ἀναίδειαν αὐτοῦ. Klotz (in Devarium) derives γὲ from ΓΕΩ = low, or from ἄγε, which renders the reader or hearer attentive, and so gives more importance to the word excepted. He says that wherever anything is affirmed by γὲ a certain opposition is implied; not such, however, that it opposes things contrary, inter se, but so that it distinguishes and makes one thing stand out more than another. Thus if we say of one of two ἐκεῖνός γε ἤκει, we do not mean the other does not come, but this one certainly comes. The use of the future tense in the previous clause, however (εἰ καὶ oὐ δώσει), implies that relief on the score of friendship is very improbable. The particle γὲ has the same force in the other parable (Luk 18:5). The words of the unjust judge are to be paraphrased: Though I fear not God, nor regard man, and therefore little is to be expected from me on that score, yet at least on account, &c.

How expressive that one word shamelessness, and how instructive! It teaches us the nature of true prevailing prayer. The prayer which gains its end is prayer which knocks till the door is opened, regardless of so-called decencies and proprieties, which seeks till it obtains, at the risk of being reckoned impudent, which simply cannot understand and will not take a refusal, and asks till it receives. In the parable importunity is completely successful, and we see for ourselves that it cannot fail to be. The seeker has only to continue knocking to gain his point. That very love of comfort evinced by his neighbour, which constitutes the initial difficulty, supplies him with the sure means of achieving a triumph. But when we come to apply the parable to the case of prayer addressed to God, it appears to lack cogency as a persuasive to perseverance, for want of parallelism in the circumstances. The spirit of doubt will have no difficulty in evading the implied argument. It may say, "This parable certainly shows that importunity may prevail in very unlikely and discouraging circumstances. But the circumstances supposed cannot occur in the case of prayer addressed to the Divine Being. We can never have God in our power, as the petitioner in the parable had his neighbour; we cannot put God in a dilemma between granting our request and losing the thing which He values more than all else, viz. His own comfort or felicity. If God be really a Being who cares more for His own felicity than for man’s good, One living high up in heaven a life of ease careless of mankind, it is not in my power to disturb His serene existence by any prayers of mine, however urgent. I may cry, but He does not hear, or hears as one who heareth not. He is too remote from this world to be disturbed by its noise, or to be interested in its concerns; He stands upon the vault of heaven and looks down calmly with His arm in His bosom, a passionless spectator of the tragedies and comedies of time. And my perplexity is to know whether this be indeed the character of Deity. To me it now seems as if it were; for I cry, and receive no answer: I knock, and no door of relief is open to me. And the parable does not solve my doubt, it simply leaves me where it found me." All this is perfectly true, and Jesus in effect admitted it to be so. For after uttering the parable He went on immediately to make a solemn declaration on His personal authority, on which, and not on the parable, He desired the tried soul to lay the stress of its faith: "And I say to you, Ask, and it shall be given unto you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you." Jesus pledges His word that those who act in accordance with this counsel shall find the event justify it. The καγὼ with which the sentence begins is all the more emphatic that the ὑμῖν λέγω which follows occurs for the second time here, being found in the previous sentence which forms the concluding part of the parable. One might have expected the emphatic personal pronoun to be used in the first instance rather than in the second. There must be a reason why the reverse is the case, and it is not difficult to discover. The first I say to you is unemphatic because the statement which follows rests not on the Speaker’s authority, but on the reason of things. Any intelligent person could say what Christ says there, for it is obvious to every one on reflection how the scene described must end. The man in bed must get up and serve his neighbour. But the second statement, to the effect that those who pray to God shall likewise be heard, rests absolutely on Christ’s authority. It is not given as a fact which is self-evident, but as a fact which He, the Speaker, knows to be true. Therefore in this case He says, "And I say to you, Ask, and ye shall receive." But it may be asked, If we are to take this momentous matter on Christ’s word, why speak the parable at all, why argue; why not simply assert? In reply we say, Because the parable is not good for everything, it is not therefore good for nothing. It serves at least to put doubting ones into better spirits, to cast a gleam of hope athwart the landscape, to induce them to pray on in spite of discouragements, until faith has surmounted her doubts, and come to see that God is not the selfish, indifferent, heartless One He seems, but what Jesus called him in the end of this lesson on prayer—a heavenly Father. From the sentence in which that blessed name is used we have already learned that throughout this lesson on prayer Jesus supposes the Holy Spirit, or personal advancement in spiritual life, to be the chief object of desire. Hence it follows that even that best gift is not given forthwith, though certain to be given eventually; an inference in entire accordance, it will be observed, with the teaching of the parable considered in the last chapter. It will be found, that is to say, in experience, that God, the Father in heaven, seems for a time unwilling to grant to those who seek first the kingdom even the very thing they above all things desire, viz. righteousness. There will be phases of experience in which it shall seem to disciples that they ask for bread and get only a stone, or for fish and get a serpent, or for an egg and get a scorpion. The possibility or even probability of such experiences is implied in the simple fact that Jesus thought it necessary to refer to such hypothetical cases. It is because there are times when God seems to play the cruel part described that Jesus puts the questions: "If a son shall ask bread of any of you that is a father, will he give him a stone? or if he ask a fish, will he for a fish give him a serpent? or if he shall ask an egg, will he offer him a scorpion?" He knew that such dark thoughts concerning God lurked unavowed in even good men’s hearts, and therefore He put them into words, in the hope that by bringing them into the full light of consciousness doubters might see it to be utterly incredible that God could do what even evil men are incapable of, and so be prepared for accepting with cordial faith the argument à fortiori with which the doctrine winds up: "How much more shall your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask Him?" The Unjust Judge And he spake to them a parable to the effect that it is necessary that they[1] should always pray, and not lose heart,[2] saying, There was in a certain city, a certain judge, who feared not God, nor regarded man: and there was a widow in that city; and she kept coming[3] to him, saying, Avenge me of mine adversary. And he was not willing for a time: but afterwards he said in himself, Though I fear not God, nor regard man; yet on account of this widow causing me trouble, I will avenge her, lest at last, coming, she strike me.[4] And the Lord said, Hear what the judge of unrighteousness saith. And shall not God avenge His elect, who cry unto Him day and night, and He delays (to interpose) in their cause?[5] I tell you that He will avenge them speedily. Nevertheless when the Son of man cometh, shall He find faith on the earth?—Luk 18:1-8.

[1] Many MSS. have αὐτοὺς after προσεύχεσθαι. It is wanting in T. R.

[2] ἐγκακεῖν, a Pauline word; vide Eph 3:13; 2Th 3:13; Gal 6:9, &c.

[3] ἥρχετο, imperfect.

[4] The words εἰς τέλος may be connected either with ἐρχομένη or with ὐπωπιάζῃ. The construction depends on the sense assigned to the verb. Vide exposition.

[5] There are two readings here: καὶ πακροθυμῶν, as in T. R., and και μακροθυμεῖ, generally preferred by critics on such good grounds that I feel justified in adopting it For further particulars vide exposition. In this parable the Hearer of prayer is appropriately represented by a judge, not as in last parable by a private individual, the prayers which He seems to disregard being ex hypothesi addressed to Him by the collective body of His people in His capacity of Divine Ruler, exercising a providence and government over all. The present parable shows not less felicitously than the preceding the power of importunity to prevail even in the most discouraging situation. No situation could be conceived more unfavourable than the one depicted here, whether we regard the man who occupies the seat of justice or the individual who appears before him as a petitioner. The judge is described as one who neither fears God Almighty, nor regards men worthy of esteem,[1] terms proverbially current among Jews and Greeks alike to denote a person of utterly unprincipled character.[2] He is an unprincipled, lawless tyrant, devoid of the sense of responsibility and of every sentiment of humanity and justice. The picture is not an ideal one; there were such judges in those days; there are such judges in the same quarter of the world still, if we may trust a recent writer on Palestine, who, after describing the Pasha of Damascus as an obese, gluttonous, sensual, slothful, indifferent mortal, remarks, "It is the misfortune of Turkey that the majority of the governing class are men ignorant and fanatical, sensual and inert, notoriously corrupt and tyrannical, who have succeeded only in ruining and impoverishing the countries they were sent to govern."[3] The judge of our parable is certainly a bad sample of a low kind, for he not only is one who fears not God, nor regards man, but describes himself as such: "Though I fear not God, nor regard man."[4] It is true he says this not toothers, but to himself; but it is a sign of deep depravity that he can even go this length. Ordinary villains try to hide their character even from themselves, but this consummate villain with profligate frankness acknowledges to himself that he is quite as bad as other people think him. He does not heed the evil opinion entertained of him by other men and by his own conscience; he promulgates its truth and laughs at it as a good joke. There could not possibly be a worse character, or a more hopeless tribunal than that over which such a man presides. This judge you have no chance of influencing except through his self-love. If he can be made to feel that it will be more advantageous or less troublesome to do right than to do wrong, he will do right, but for no other reason.

[1] Bengel distinguishes the two verbs φοβοῦμαι and ἔντρέπομαι thus Solemus φοβεῖσθαι potentiam, ἐντρἐπεσθαι existimationem.

[2] For examples in Greek authors vide Wetstein.

[3] Conder, ’Tent-work in Palestine,’ i. p. 251.

[4] Weizsäcker in the place already referred to mentions soliloquising on the part of the actors in the parables as another characteristic of the later parables of Luke’s Gospel. The petitioner who appears before this corrupt judge is, primâ facie, a very unlikely person to prevail with him. She is a friendless, destitute woman, too weak to compel, too poor to buy, justice; or to say all in a single word, a widow, who in the East was a synonym for helplessness, a prey to oppressors and knaves of every description, pious or impious, as many a pathetic text of Scripture proves. Witness that stern word of the prophet Isaiah against the degenerate rulers of Israel: "Thy princes are rebellious, and companions of thieves: every one loveth gifts, and followeth after rewards: they judge not the fatherless, neither doth the cause of the widow come unto them;" and that bitter, indignant word of Christ concerning the Pharisees of His time: "Ye devour widows’ houses, and for a pretence make long prayers."[1]. For some good remarks on the forlorn position of widows in the East, vide Trench, pp. 492-3. A widow was one who was pretty sure to have plenty of adversaries if she had anything to devour, and very unlikely to find any one on the seat of judgment willing to take the pains to look into her cause and to grant protection and redress. She is therefore most fitly selected to represent a petitioner for justice who has the worst possible prospect of success in his plea, most fitly chosen to represent the Church or people of God in their most forlorn plight, overborne by an unbelieving, godless world, and apparently forgotten even of their God.

[1] Isa 1:23; Mat 23:14

Yet, as the parable goes on to show, there is hope even here. Desperate as the situation is, even a widow may find means of obtaining redress even from such a profligate administrator of injustice and perpetrator of iniquity under forms of law. Corrupt judges in the East, as elsewhere, may be influenced in three ways; by intimidation, by bribery, and by bothering. The poor, friendless widow could not wield the first two modes of influence, but the third was open to her. She had a tongue, and could persecute the judge with her clamour until he should be glad to be rid of her by letting her have what she wanted. And this judge, profligate though he was, feared a woman’s tongue made eloquent by a sense of wrong and extreme misery. He has experienced it before, and he knows what is possible. Therefore he thinks it best not to drive the widow to extremities, and gives in in good time. He is deaf to her entreaties for a while, too indolent to listen, perhaps accustomed to treat all complaints at first with apathy, and to wait till he has roused the furies, as mules sometimes refuse to start on their journey till they have been sufficiently thrashed by the driver. He waited till he saw the storm beginning to rise, the subdued, respectful tone of supplication rising into the shriller key and more piercing notes of impatience and passion. Then he began to say to himself, "I care nothing for justice; I am neither pious, righteous, nor humane; I regard solely my own pleasure and comfort; but this widow threatens to be troublesome; her reiterated entreaties have already begun to bore and bother me; I will give a verdict in her favour, lest at last she, coming, strike me." And so the widow gains her cause, not through regard to justice, but through the very love of ease which at first stood in her way.

It will be observed that in our free version of the judge’s soliloquy, in which he prudently made up his mind to surrender, we have put a strong sense on the words ὑπωπιάζῃ με, rendered in the English version "weary me." In doing so we are not guided simply by the dictionary sense of the verb, for it may be rendered either way, but by what seems required by the situation.[1] For we must hold that the word denotes something apprehended in the future worse than anything that has yet happened. Now the judge already feels bored. He assigns as a reason for granting the widow’s request that she plagues or worries him with her demands. If, therefore, we render the term in question by some such mild word as ’weary’ or tease, we get something like a tautology: She worries me; I will do her right, lest by her continual coming she annoy me. How much more expressive and characteristic to make the judge say, "She bothers me; I will do her right, lest at last she, coming, go the length of using her fist instead of her tongue." This rendering, therefore, we, with Bengel,[2] Meyer, and Godet, decidedly prefer, preferring also what goes along therewith, the construction of εἰς τέλος with the verb, not with the participle ἐρχομένη, and rendering it not ’continually,’ as it requires to be in the latter case, but ’at length.’ To this rendering it may be objected that it is not credible that the judge really feared physical violence on the part of the widow. This is a very prosaic objection. For, as Godet observes, there is pleasantry in the word.[3] The judge humorously affects to fear the exasperated widow’s fists. There is also pictorial expressiveness in the word. Striking is the symbol of a passion that spurns all control, which, however it manifests itself, whether by words or by blows, is the thing the judge really fears. The whirlwind of a passion roused to its height by a keen sense of wrong is a thing no man cares to encounter. As for the question of fact, whether such a passion could even at last lead to physical violence, it is one we do not care to decide very confidently in the negative. It is hard to say what a poor widow provoked beyond endurance by the unrighteous indifference of a judge, will do.

[1] It occurs again in 1Co 9:27, where it clearly should be rendered ’beat.’ I beat my body as a boxer beats an antagonist.

[2] Bengel says ὑπωπίαζῃ, suggilet. Hyperbole, judicis injusti et impatientis personæ conveniens. He adds: Huc refer, εἰς τέλος, nam ἐρχομἐνη est quasi παρέλκον quo prætermisso sententia tamen quodammodo integra est, quod tamen, adhibitum, orationem facit suavem, moratam, &c. Field (’Otium Norv.’) objects to this view that it demands the aorist of the verb instead of the present, because it points to a concluding act, while the present expresses continuous action.

[3] Il y a dans cette parole, une teinte de plaisanterie. In the case supposed in this parable then, not less than in that supposed in the other, it is evident to every one that importunity must inevitably triumph. We are therefore prepared to pass on to the consideration of the application made by the Speaker to the case of a suffering Church praying to God. We observe that the evangelist introduces the epilogue by the formula, "And the Lord said." It is a formula of frequent occurrence in his Gospel, and it has attracted the notice of critics, especially in connection with the title ’Lord,’ used where the other evangelists would employ the name Jesus, and not unnaturally regarded as one of the traces in this Gospel of the influence of the faith of the apostolic Church on the mind of its author. Here the formula seems intended to mark the important character of the statement which follows. The evangelist is not content that it should come in simply as the conclusion of a parable; he desires it to stand out prominently as a substantive part of Christ’s teaching. Looking then into this statement as one thus proclaimed to be of great importance, we find that the nota bene of the evangelist is fully justified. The application of the parable is in effect an argument à fortiori. If even an unjust judge can be moved to grant redress to a forlorn widow, what may not be expected of a righteous God by those who stand to Him in the relation of an elect people, chosen out of the world to be the heirs of His kingdom? They ought to feel assured that God will not allow His purpose in their election to be frustrated, but will certainly and effectively give them the kingdom, and so possess their soul in peace, though they be but a little flock in a wilderness swarming with wolves and ravenous beasts of every description. But unhappily the ’little flock,’ the ’elect’ race, in their actual position are not able to appreciate the force of this à fortiori argument, because God seems to them the opposite of righteous, and the very idea of their election an idle, fond dream. Deep down in their hearts there may be a faith both in God’s righteousness and in His gracious purpose, but it is a faith bewildered and confounded by the chaotic condition of the world, which seems incompatible with the reality of a moral order maintained by a righteous and benignant Providence. They are in a state of mind similar to that of the prophet Habakkuk when he penned those sublime words: "Thou art of purer eyes than to behold evil, and canst not look on iniquity: wherefore then lookest Thou upon them that deal treacherously, and holdest Thy tongue when the wicked devoureth the man that is more righteous than he? And makest men as the fishes of the sea, as the creeping things, that have no ruler over them?"[1] The prophet was distracted by the glaring contradiction between his idea of God and facts. He regarded God as a Being who could not look on with indifference while an iniquity was being perpetrated like that wrought by Babylonian tyrants, who threw their net of conquest into the sea of the world and drew whole nations as captives away from their native land; and yet God does actually look on, a passive spectator, while that very thing is being done to Israel, His elect people. Precisely similar is the state of mind of the ’elect,’ whom Christ has in view. For men in this mental condition the à fortiori argument suggested can have little force, for they stand in doubt of the very things on which the à fortiori element rests: the righteousness or faithfulness of God, and the reality of the covenant relation implied in election. And Christ was perfectly well aware of this, and showed that He was by what He said. For He is not content, we observe, with merely asking the question, "Shall not God avenge His elect ones?" as if there were no room for reasonable doubt in the matter, or as if doubt were impious. He adds words which clearly show how sensible He is of the difficulty of believing in God’s judicial interposition, in the circumstances. The added words contain three virtual admissions of the difficulty. The first is contained in the description given of the elect ones as a people in the position of crying unto God day and night, and of not being heard by Him. Such we take to be the import of the second half of the seventh verse, rendered in our version, "which cry day and night unto Him, though He bear long with them." We adopt the reading μακροθυμεῖ, found in the chief uncials, and approved by the critics, as the more probable just because the less obvious, and we take it as depending not on oὐ μὴ ποιήση, the construction required if we adopt the reading μακροθυμῶν, but on τῶν βοώντων. The whole sentence from this point onwards is in effect a relative clause descriptive of the situation of the elect. Their position is that of persons "who cry to Him day and night, and yet He delays interposing in their cause" (ἐπ᾿ αὐτοῖς).[2] The same meaning comes out if we adopt the other reading and construction. What is then said is, "Shall not God eventually avenge His elect, although He delays in their case, while they cry unto Him day and night?" Thus on either reading or construction the words undoubtedly contain the thought that there is such a delay in answering prayer as is extremely trying to faith. The elect ones are in the position of David when he complained, "O my God, I cry in the daytime, but Thou hearest not; and in the night season, and am not silent."

[1] Hab 1:13-14.

[2] For the suggestion that μακροθυμεῖ is dependent on βοώντων I am indebted to Dr. Field, who kindly communicated his opinion in a letter to my colleague, Dr. Douglas, Principal of the Free Church College, Glasgow. Dr. Field’s view of the whole passage, since published in ’Otium Norvicense,’ is the same as that given above. In support of the use of the verb μακροθυμεῖ in the sense of delay (moram facere) he refers to Sir 35:18, and also to the following passage in Chrysostom’s works: οὐκ οἰκτείρει τὸ γύναιον (the Syroph. woman) ἀλλὰ μακροθυμεῖ, βουλόμενος τὸν λανθάνοντα θησαυρὸν ἐν τῆ γυναικὶ κατάδηλον ἅπασι ποῖησαι.—Opp. T., iv. p. 451, A. Ed. Ben. The solution of the grammatical difficulty is at once simple and satisfactory, and it is confirmed by the reference made by Dr. Field, and introduced in the text, to the experience of David, expressed in very similar terms. The passage in Ecclus. is still more closely parallel. It runs, "For the Lord will not be slack (οὐ μὴ βραδύνῃ), neither will the Mighty be patient towards them" (οὐδὲ μὴ μακροθυμήση ἐπ᾿ αὐτοῖς—said with reference to the prayers of the poor). Dr. Field proposes this translation of the clause: "Who cry unto Him day and night, and He deferreth His anger on their behalf." The second admission of the difficulty of believing in God is contained in the asseveration which follows in the next verse: "I tell you that He will avenge them speedily." It is very significant that Jesus deems it necessary to make this strong assertion. It is evident that He relies more for the inspiration of faith into doubting spirits on His own personal assurance than on the à fortiori argument. It is a repetition in effect of the emphatic "I say unto you" in the former parable. It is one seeking by the emphasis with which He declares His own belief to communicate faith to other minds, even as David sought to inspire courage and hope in the breasts of his brethren by the hearty counsel "Wait, I say, on the Lord." We must bear this in mind in interpreting the closing expression of this declaration, ’speedily’ (ἐν τάχει). If, as some think, the phrase signifies ’soon,’ ’without delay’ it must be understood rhetorically, not as a prosaic statement of fact. In any case the exclusion of delay implies delay, the excuse implies that there is ground for accusation. The Speaker means to say that whatever delay there may have been in the past, there will be no further delay. But we doubt whether the phrase is thus correctly rendered. It means, we think, not soon, but suddenly. So taken, the expression conveys a truth which we find elsewhere taught in Scripture, viz. that however long the critical action of Divine providence is delayed, it always comes suddenly at last, "as a thief in the night." Slow but sure and sudden at the crisis, such is the doctrine of Scripture as expressed in the proverbial phrase just quoted, in reference to the action of God in history. It is a doctrine confirmed by the historic records of nations, as exemplified in the case of Israel herself, whose awful doom, foretold by ancient prophets and long delayed, at last overtook her literally like a thief in the night. It was probably to this very doom impending over Israel that Jesus referred when He said, "I tell you that He will avenge them ἐν τάχει·."[1]

[1] Godet also takes ἐν τάχει in the sense of suddenly: "non bientot mais bien vite." That this phrase does not necessarily exclude delay in the future any more than in the past appears from the final words, which contain the third implicit admission that there is much in the experience of God’s people to try their faith in His righteousness and love. "Nevertheless when the Son of man cometh, shall He find faith upon the earth?" The question amounts to an assertion of the negative.[1] It does not mean that there will be no Christianity, no piety in the earth or in Palestine when the Son of man comes to judge the enemies of His gospel and to vindicate the rights of His followers. It means that the faith in demand, the faith He wishes to inspire, faith in God’s providence, will have all but died out in the hearts even of the godly, even of the elect. So long will the Judge delay His coming, that it will come to this. What an ample admission of trial involved to faith in God’s peculiar manner of acting in providence! And there is no exaggeration in the statement. It is often the case that God’s action as a deliverer is delayed until His people have ceased to hope for deliverance. So it was with Israel in Egypt; so was it with her again in Babylon. "Grief was calm and hope was dead" among the exiles when the word came that they were to return to their own land; and then the news seemed too good to be true. They were "like them that dream" when they heard the good tidings.

[1] Bengel on ἄρα finely remarks: magnum ἤθος habet, oratione negante per interrogationem temperata. This method of Divine action—long delay followed by a sudden crisis—so frankly recognised by Christ, is one to which we find it hard to reconcile ourselves. These parables help us so far, but they do not settle everything. They contain no philosophy of Divine delay, but simply a proclamation of the fact, and an assurance that in spite of delay all will go well at the last with those who trust in God. It is very natural that we should desire more, that we should seek the rationale of the mystery, so strikingly expressed in those words, "One day is with the Lord as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day." Why is the Divine temper so calm that He can regard events when they happen as we regard those which happened a thousand years ago, and yet so impulsive that at the end of a thousand years He acts as suddenly and hotly as we men do when our purposes are just freshly formed in our hearts? Unbelief will reply, Because God is simply a synonym for a stream of tendency which silently moves on like the river Niagara till it approaches its natural consummation, when it makes its mighty plunge, to the astonishment of all spectators. Christians cannot accept this solution. They must find a way of reconciling delay with the reality of a Divine purpose, and with the graciousness of that purpose. And it is not impossible to find such a way. Delay is not incompatible with grace. It is simply the result of love taking counsel with wisdom, so that the very end aimed at may not be frustrated by too great haste to attain it. Men must be prepared for receiving and appreciating the benefit God means to bestow on them, and delay is an important element in the discipline necessary for that purpose. The child cannot at once enter on its inheritance; it must be under tutors and governors in order that it may at length enjoy and rightly use the freedom to which it is destined.