We have here a supper at Bethany and a supper at Jerusalem: one of them simply a supper in the house of those whom Jesus loved; the other a new thing instituted at the paschal feast which it was to set aside, while for the Church it was to be the standing memorial of the Lord Jesus that should follow.
But these two suppers have a very weighty place, the death of the Lord Jesus Christ being not only the great central truth of the latter, but also in the former, what the Spirit of God brought before the spiritual instincts of Mary. She felt it, though not from any positive communication to her, but from that love to the Savior which the Spirit made sensitive of the danger hanging over Him in a way she could not express. The Lord, who knew her love and all that was at hand, interpreted her act as done with a view to His burying. On both occasions the disciples enter most feebly into the good and the evil, but God Himself made manifest His own hand and mind as that which governed all. This is the more striking, because on the occasion of the supper at Bethany, or rather connected with it, the chief priests and scribes, though they sought how they might take Jesus “by craft and put him to death,” had fully determined that it should not be “on the feast-day lest there be an uproar of the people.” God, however, had already from of old decided that it was to be that day and no other—on the foundation feast of all the feasts, on the passover, which was, in fact, the type of the death of Christ. Thus we have God and man at issue; but I need not say God carries out His own will, though He does it through the wicked instrumentality of the very men who had resolved it was not so to be. Indeed it is always thus. God does not govern only His own children; even the destruction of wicked men is not the carrying out of their own will but of God's will. Therefore it is written, “who were of old ordained to this condemnation.” Again, they were appointed to stumble at the word, being disobedient. It is not that God makes any man to be wicked. But when man, fallen into sin, goes on in his own self-will, loving darkness rather than light and enslaved to Satan, God nevertheless proves that He always holds the reins, and keeps the upper hand, and even in the path their lust or passion chooses to take, fails not to accomplish His own will. It is like a man who, under intoxication, thinks to carry out some purpose of his, seeks, for instance, to steer to some place on the right hand, but really tumbles into a ditch on the left. So man after all cannot but do what God has determined beforehand. His will is powerless save to evince his sin. God's will always governs, though men prove themselves inexcusably wicked in the way it is brought about. Just so here. Man resolved to kill Jesus, but made up his mind that it should not be on the feast-day. God had arranged long before they were born that on the feast-day their deed was to take place. And so it did.
As we have seen, also, the supper at Bethany gave occasion to the first conception of the treachery of Judas. Satan put it into his heart. It was a scene of love, but such a scene draws quickly out the hatred of those that have no love. Mary's worshipping affection for the person of the Lord and her sense of His danger led her on till the house of Bethany was filled with the sweet odor of the ointment she poured forth. But Judas roused the carnal mind of the other disciples; be had no communion with her: Jesus was not precious in his eyes. He, therefore, was carping where Jesus was the adored object of Mary. It was so much taken from his own ill-gotten gains. He only pleaded the cause of the poor, and stirred up the other disciples about it—so that “there were some that had indignation within themselves, and said, Why was this waste of the ointment made?” But love, while it would lavish all, never wastes anything; self does, idle folly does, but love never.
The Lord pleaded her cause. “Let her alone; why trouble ye her? She hath wrought a good work on me.” There is no work so good as that done on Jesus. Works done for Jesus' sake are good, but what was done to Himself was far better. She had done not the least of what grace had wrought up to that day. “She hath done what she could she is come aforehand to anoint my body to the burying. Verily I say unto you, Wheresoever this gospel shall be preached throughout the whole world, this also that she hath done shall be spoken of for a memorial of her.” Most fitly though of grace is this woman's good deed bound up with the name of Jesus, wherever He is preached here below. We have not her name here; we learn it was Mary the sister of Lazarus, and this from John who appropriately lets us know, because he tells us of Jesus calling His own sheep by name. Here the point was not so much who had done it, but that it was done—the ministry, so to speak, of a woman at such a time who loved the Lord Jesus, in view of His burial. Further, we gather from this how one corrupt person can defile even those who have true hearts for Christ. The disciples were quickly caught by Judas's fair pretenses on behalf of the poor and allowed his insinuation to lead themselves into murmurings which reflected on Christ, as much as they slighted the devotedness of Mary.
In contrast with the love of Mary, Judas goes forth “to the chief priests, to betray him unto them.”
But now comes the supper of the paschal feast at Jerusalem, where the Lord acts as master of that institution and creator of a greater one. As on His entrance into Jerusalem, they had demanded in the name of the Lord the ass's colt, saying that the Lord had need of him, so here “He sendeth forth two of his disciples, and saith unto them, “Go ye into the city, and there shall meet you a man bearing a pitcher of water: follow him. And wheresoever he shall go in, say ye to the goodman of the house, The master saith, Where is the guest-chamber, where I shall eat the passover with my disciples? And he will shew you a large upper room furnished and prepared: there make ready for us.” It was One who, though He was going to die, still went there with royal, divine rights; He had not forfeited His place as Messiah though going to suffer as Son of man on the cross. He, therefore, takes possession as the Master, and the goodman of the house at once acquiesces in His claim. All was before His eyes. There was no lack of power to act upon the conscience and affections of men. He could have turned all others as He bowed this man's heart. But how then should the scriptures have been accomplished, and sin blotted out, and God glorified? It was necessary, therefore, that He should go to the cross, not as any victim of necessity, but as one whose will was only to do the will of His Father, accepting all His humiliation from Him.
“And in the evening he cometh with the twelve. And as they sat and did eat, Jesus said, Verily I say unto you, One of you which eateth with me shall betray me. And they began to be sorrowful, and to say unto him one by one, Is it I? and another said, Is it I?” There was conscious integrity in the disciples, weak as they might be, and fleshly as we know from Luke they were, even in this very scene. But the Lord answers, “It is one of the twelve that dippeth with me in the dish. The Son of man indeed goeth, as it is written of him; but woe to that man by whom the Son of man is betrayed.” It was man's sin, Satan's guile, God's counsel, and Christ's love. But none of these things altered the wickedness of Judas: “Good were it for that man if he had never been born.” He was ordained, we may say, for this condemnation: he was not made wicked by God, but his wickedness was made to take this shape in order to fulfill the counsels of God. One of that company which was chosen to be with Jesus here below, was to prove this awful truth—that the nearer a man is externally to blessing, if he does not receive it into his heart, the more distant he is morally from it. There was but one Judas in Israel, and he was nearest to Jesus; there was but one who united all the privileges of such companionship with Jesus to all the guilt of betraying Him.
Then in verses 22-25, He institutes the supper—His own supper. It was not the paschal feast; and we learn from Luke that He would not touch the paschal cup. He would drink no more of the fruit of the vine until He drank it new with them in the kingdom of God. He refused that which was the sign of communion in things here below. His Father, God, was before Him, and suffering His will rather than doing it. But meanwhile, before that kingdom come, founded on His suffering unto death, there is the remembrance of a totally different thing; not of a kingdom, power, and glory, but of crucifixion in weakness; His body broken (as He says, “This is my body”), and His blood, the blood of the new covenant, shed for many. It was not for the Jew only, but shed for many.
Nothing can be simpler than the terms in which He institutes the supper, as given in Mark. It was, I do not doubt, intended both to refer to the passover as accomplished now, and also to bring in the power of the new covenant for the soul before it comes in for the people of Israel.
Rectitude of heart and the truth always go together. This is seen in Christ, who was Himself the Truth—it was in Him, and He was it; but we must always know in part. In Christ alone was there perfect reality, sincerity; and we have sincerity in so far as we have Him. Where Christ is not there is no sincerity—that is reality. There may be what men call sincerity, where the heart is dark, and has been badly taught; but in this case there cannot be reality, for the truth only is real.