Two Feasts.
I. The equality here existing between the poor man and the rich man—they both have a dinner. This is as it ought to be. God gave the earth to the children of men, and when He enriched them with this large donation He intended that every living creature upon the earth should have enough to eat every day. When men lack sufficient food it is not because there is any lack in God’s gifts, either of herbs or oxen. When both the rich man and the poor man are fed out of the abundance of God’s gifts His Divine purpose in giving them is accomplished.
II. The inequality between the dinner of the poor man and that of the rich. The poor man is sustained upon the same kind of food as the rich man’s ox is fattened upon. In common with the beast he lives upon the produce of the earth. The rich man eats the ox which has been fed upon that which is the only food of the poor man. This is not as it should be. God never intended that one part of His human family would enjoy a monopoly of any of the food which He has provided. When He gave the earth into the hands of the first man He intended that all His children should be partakers of all the kinds of food which the earth afforded, and which were suited to the part of the world in which they lived. When it is otherwise it arises from sin, either personal or relative. Poverty does not always spring from indolence, or from inability to subdue the earth, and to obtain from it a full share of all that it affords, and when it does not, the man who is compelled to eat a dish of herbs while his neighbour feasts from the stalled ox, is either sinned against in the present, or has been sinned against in the past.
III. Opposite states of mind which more than compensate the poor man for his humbler meal. Hatred takes away all enjoyment from any of God’s gifts. If a rich man bears malice against the guest whom he is entertaining at his table—if while he feeds him upon the best, he desires for him the worst—he knows nothing of the pleasures of hospitality. Hatred is murder in the germ, and he who harbours such a devil within his breast cannot possess that peace of soul without which the choicest viands cannot be enjoyed. But love is a large compensation for a dinner of herbs. Love to husband or wife, to parent or to child, makes sweet every family meal, however homely the fare—that charity which “seeketh not her own, thinketh no evil, beareth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things,” is a sauce to the humblest dish which one man can set before another, and more than lifts it above the rich man’s feast given for the sake of custom or expediency to guests to whom he has not a particle of goodwill.
outlines and suggestive comments.
A feast of salads, or Daniel’s pulse, is more cherishing with mercy, than Belshazzar’s banquet without it.—T. Adams.
Ruth and Naomi were happy when they lived on the gleanings of the field of Boaz, and in the fulness of their satisfaction poured their blessings on the head of him that allowed them the scanty pittance. . . . The conversation of friends is far pleasanter than any dish at the table. Where hatred is, there is silence or sullenness, or at least hollow mirth and tasteless ceremony; but where love and the fear of God are, the table conversation is delightful and useful. We find even a heathen poet reflecting on the pleasures of such an entertainment. (O noctes cœnœque deûm!—Hor.) How blessed were the disciples of our Lord, when they sat at meat with Him! Barley loaves and fishes were probably ordinary fare with them, but they were entertained with Divine discourse. Such pleasure as they enjoyed we cannot now expect; but His religion is admirably fitted to promote our present happiness, for love is His great commandment.—Lawson.
The sentiment is applicable, with a special force of emphasis, to domestic life. In proportion to the delightful sweetness of the concord in which the fond affections of nature and grace bind the members of a family in one happy social circle—all being of one heart and of one soul—dividing the cares and more than doubling the enjoyments of life by mutual participation and sympathy, all bosoms throbbing with a common pulsation, all lips wearing a common smile, and all eyes filled from a common fountain of tears, in proportion to the delightful sweetness of such a scene is the wretchedness of its reverse; and there is no one who has experienced either the sweetness or the wretchedness—especially the former—that will not subscribe to the sentiment so simply yet so strongly expressed.—Wardlaw.
“An allowance of vegetables.” Not only “vegetables,” but the lighter sorts of them; more nearly “herbs;” not only light fare, like that, but a limited amount; not only flesh on the other scale, but “stalled” beef; not only “stalled” beef, but no limit; “a stalled ox.” Not only might this well be a worldly proverb to represent the married state, and all the arena of human affection, but signal when brought into religion. “A dinner of herbs;” with the blessed “love” of the Redeemer, is better than a pampered feast and the gloom of the impenitent.—Miller.
If love be the entertainer, it matters not much what the provision be: if true friendship be set upon the table of his heart that inviteth thee, let that make thee to esteem well of whatsoever is set on the table before thee. Thou comest with a gluttonous appetite—not the affection of a friend—if thy cheer be that which thou lookest after. Wherefore, then, though it be a dinner of herbs, yet if they come from love’s garden it is worthy of thine acceptance: thou mayest be sure that no serpent lies hid in those herbs. If it be but so smaller a dinner as a traveller taketh with him (see [Critical Notes]), yet if it bring affection with it, thou mayest be sure that no hurt is coming to thee. But if thy dinner be a fatted ox, and hatred be the hand that carveth it unto thee, perhaps it is but to fat thee for the like slaughter.—Jermin.