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II. Biog— J

I

THE LIFE AND WORDS OF CHRIST.

4

^
^

^

^

^:

i

i^

Q

THE

LIFE AND WORDS

OF

CHRIS T.

BY

CUNNINGHAM GEIKIE, D.D.

"Thb life w^ the Light of Mbn."--Johk i. 4.

VOL. IL

NEW YORK:
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY,

64» A 561 BSOADWAY.

1877.

55?

v.i-

CONTENTS.

OHAFCBB PAGB8

XXXni Capebkaum 1 — 17

XXXIV. Light AND Darkness 18 — 39

XXXV. The Choice of the Twelve, and the Sebhon

ON THE Mount 40 — 57

XXX VI. The Sebmon on the Mount (continued) • • 58 — 72

XXXVII. The Sermon on the Mount (concluded) • . 78 — 90

XXXVIII. Open Conflict 91—108

XXXIX. Galilee 109—121

XL. Darkening Shadows — ^Life in Galilee . . 122 — 136

XLL The Bursting op the Storm . . . 137 — 152

XLII. After the Storm 153 — 169

XLIIL Dark and Bright 170—189

XLIV. The Turn op the Day 190—212

XLV. The Coasts of the Heathen .... 213 — ^230

XLVI. In Plight once more 231—247

XLVII. The Transfiguration 248—262

XLVIII. Before the Feast 263—277

XLIX. At the Feast op Tabernacles .... 278 — 295

L. After the Feast * 296—308

LI. The last Month of the Year .... 809 — 324

LII. A Wandering Life 325—348

LIII. In Perea ........ 844—366

LIV. In Perea (continued) 367—392

LV. Palm Sunday 393—415

LVI. Jerusalem . 416 — 432

iv CONTENTS.

OHAPTER PAGES

LVII. The Interval 483 — 453

LVIII. Farewell to Friends 454—476

LIX. The Farewell 477—499

LX. The Arrest 500—515

LXI. The Jewish Trial . . • 516—530

LXII. Before Pilate 531—554

liXIII. Judas — The Crucifixion 555—579

LXrV. The Resurrection and the Forty Days . . 580 — 608

Notes to Volume II 609—643

Index of Subjects 645 — 658

IsDBX OF Texts 659—670

THE LIFE OF CHRIST

CHAPTER XXXIIL

OAPEENAUM.

THE final " call " addressed to Peter and his brother, oHAP^xmit
and to James and John, at the Lake of Galilee,
apparently insignificant as an event, proved to have been,
in reality, one of the turning points in the history of the
world. The " call " of Abraham had given the world, as
an everlasting inheritance, the grand truth of a Living Per-
sonal God ; that of Moses had created a nation, in which the
active government of human afiairs by one God was to be
illustrated, and His will made known directly to man-
kind; but that of the poor Galilsean fishermen was the
foundation of a society, for which all that had preceded it
was only the preparation ; a society in which all that was
merely outward and temporary m the relations of God to
man, should be laid aside, and all that was imperfect and
material replaced by the perfect, spiritual, and abiding. The
true theocracy, towards which mankind had been slowly ad-
vancing, through ages, had received its first overt establish-
ment, when Peter heard, on his knees, the summons of Jesus
to follow Him, and had, with the others, at once, from the
heart, obeyed. Henceforth, it only remained to extend the
kingdom thus founded, by winning the consciences of men
to the same devotion, by the announcement of the Father-
hood of God ; the need of seeking His favour by repent-
ance ; and faith in His divine Son, leading to a holy life,
of which that of Jesus, as the Saviour-Messiah, was the
realized ideal.

VOL. II. 40

2 THE LITE OF CHBIST.

CHAP. xxxm. From the shores of the Lake, Christ went to the house of
Peter, accepting his invitation to share his hospitality.

The little town itself, with its two or three thousand in-
hibitants, was surrounded by a wall, and lay partly along the
shore ; some of the houses close to the water ; others with a
garden between it and them. The black lava, or basalt, of
which all were built, waa universally whitewashed, so that
the town was seen to fine effect, from a distance, through
the green of its numerous trees and gardens. Peter's house-
hold consisted of his wife, and her mother — doubtless a
widow — whom his kindly nature had brought to this second
home, Andrew, his brother, and, now, of Jesus, his guest.
James and John, likely, still lived with their father, in
Capernaum, and the whole four still followed their calling
in the intervals of attending their new Master. *

It appears to have been on a Friday that Jesus summoned

1 Ewaid. Peter and his companions.^ The day passed, doubtless,
Gwcwchtts -^ further work for the kingdom. As the sun set, the
beginning of the Sabbath was announced by three blasts
of a trumpet, from the roof of the spacious synagogue
of the town, which the devout commandant of the garrison,
though not a Jew, had built for the people. The first blast
warned the peasants, in the far-stretching vineyards and
gardens, to cease their toil ; the second was the signal for
the townsfolks to close their business for the week, and the
third, for all to kindle the holy Sabbath light, which was

« Talmud; to bum till thc sacred day was past.^ It was the early

quoted by .

gepp. 11. 258. spring, and the days were still short, for even in summer
it is hardly morning twilight, in Palestine, at four, and the
» -Rig, in Winer, light is gouc by cight.^ Jesus did not, however, go that night
to Peter's house, but spent the hours in solitary devotion.^
We can fancy, fi'om what is elsewhere told us, that the day
closed while He still spoke to a listening crowd, under some
palm-tree, or by the wayside. As the moon rose beyond
the hills, on the other side of the Lake, He would dismiss
His hearers, with words of comfort, and a greeting of peace,
and then turn to the silent hills behind, to be alone with
His Heavenly Father. On their lonely heights, the noise of
mexi lay far beneath Him, and He could find rest, after

IN THE SYNAGOGUE. 8

the toils of the day. A wide panorama of land and water chap, yyynr.
stretched away on all sides, in the white moonlight. He
was Himself its centre, and gazed on it with inexpressible
sympathy and emotion. We can imagine Him, spreading
out His arms, as if to take it all to His heart, and then pros-
trating Himself, as it were with it, before God, to intercede
for it with the Eternal; His brow touching the earth in
lowly abasement, while he pleaded for man as His friend
and brother, in words of infinite love and tenderness.
" Rising, erelong, in strong emotion, it would seem as if He
held up the world in His lifted hands, to ofier it to His
Father. He spoke, was silent, then spoke again. His
prayer was holy inter-communion with God. At first low,
and almost in a whisper. His voice gradually became loud
and joyous, till it echoed back from the rocks around Him.
Thus the night passed, till morning broke and found Him,
once more prostrate as if overcome, in silent devotion, but
the dawn of day was the signal for His rising, and passing
down again to the abodes of men." * * S^iSi

The morning service in the synagogue began at nine, anS
as the news of the great Rabbi being in the neighbourhood
had spread, every one strove to attend, in hopes of seeing
Him. Women came to it by back streets, as was required
of them ; the men, with slow Sabbath steps, gathered in
great numbers. The elders had taken their seats, and the
Reader had recited the Eighteen Prayers — ^the congrega-
tion answering with their Amen, — ^for though the prayers
might be abridged on other days, they could not be
shortened on the Sabbath.^ The first lesson for the day * Taiimid,in

J' Sepp, ii. 258.

followed, the people rising and turning reverently towards
the Shrine, and chanting the words after the Reader.
Another lesson then followed, and the Reader, at its close,
called on Jesus, as a Rabbi present in the congregation, to
speak from it to the people.

His words must have sounded strangely new and attrac-
tive, for, apart from their vividness and force, they spoke of
matters of the most vital interest, which the Rabbis left wholly
untouched. He had founded the kingdom of God, and now
sought to build it up by realizing its conditions in the souls

4 THE LIFE OP CHRIST.

oHAFxxxnt of men, who should each, forthwith, be living centres of
influence on others. But a course so retired, and unknown
to the world at large, as that which He followed, of speaking
to modest assemblies in local synagogues, makes it easy to
understand how His life might be overlooked by the public
writers of the age. Yet, in the little world in which He
moved, the noiseless words by which He carried on His
work created an intense impression. He gave old truths
an unwonted freshness of presentation, and added much
that sounded entirely new, on His own authority, instead of
confining Himself, like the Rabbis, to lifeless repetitions of
traditional commonplaces, delivered with a dread of the
least deviation or originality. They claimed no power to
say a word of their own ; He spoke with a startling inde-
pendence. Their synagogue sermons, as we see in the Book
of Jubilees, were a tiresome iteration of the minutest Rab-
binical rules, with a serious importance which regarded
them as the basis of all moral order. The kind, and quality
of wood for the altar; the infinite details of the law of
tithes; the moral deadliness of the use of blood; or
the indispensableness of circumcision on the eighth day,
were urged with passionate zeal as momentous and fun-
damental truths. The morality and religion of the age had
sunk thus low, and hence, the fervid words of Jesus, stirring
the depths of the heart, created profound excitement in
Capernaum. Men were amazed at the phenomenon of novelty,
in a religious sphere so unchangeably conservative as that
of the synagogue. " New teaching," said one to the other,
" and with authority — ^not like other Rabbis. They only
repeat the old : this man takes on Him to speak without
reference to the past." But if they were astonished at His

• Mark 1.22. teaching,^ they were still more so at the power which He
revealed in connection with it. Among those who had gone
to the synagogue that morning was an unhappy man, the
victim of a calamity incident apparently to the age of Christ
and the Apostles only.° He was " possessed by a spirit of

» Lake 4. 88. au uncleau demon." ^ Our utter ignorance of the spiritual
world leaves the significance of such words a mystery, though
the popular idea of the time is handed down by the Rabbis.

r

CURB OF ONE POSSESSED. 5

An unclean demon, in the language of Christ's day, was an chap, xxxin.
evil spirit that drove the person possessed, to haunt burial-
places, and other spots most unclean in the eyes of Jews.
There were men who affected the black art, pretending, like
the witch of Endor, to raise the dead, and, for that end,
lod^g in tombs, and macerating themselves with fasting,
to secure the fuller aid and inspiration of such evil spirits ;
and others into whom the demons entered, driving them in-
voluntarily to these dismal habitations.^ Both classes were • ughtfoot,ffl.
regarded as under the power of this order of beings, but it
is not told us to which of the two the person present in the
synagogue belonged.

The service had gone on apparently without interruption,
till Jesus began to speak. Then, however, a paroxysm seized
the unhappy man. Rising in the midst of the congrega-
tion, a wild howl of demoniacal frenzy burst from him, that
must have frozen the blood of all with horror. " Ha I "
yelled the demon. " What have we to do with Thee, Jesus,
the Nazarene ? Thou comest to destroy us ! ^ I know Thee,
who Thou art, the Holy One of God I " Among the crowd
Jesus alone remained calm. He would not have acknow-
ledgment of His Messiahship from such a source. " Hold
thy peace," said He, indignantly, " and come out of him.'*
The spirit felt its Master, and that it must obey, but, demon
to the last, threw the man down in the midst of the congre-
gation, tearing him as it did so, and, then, with a wild howl,
fled out of him. Nothing could have happened better fitted
to impress the audience favourably towards Jesus. This
new teaching, said they amongst themselves, is with autho-
rity. It carries its warrant with it.®

So startling an incident had broken up the service for the
time, and Jesus left, with his four disciples, and the rest of
the congregation. But His day's work of mercy had only
begun. Arriving at His modest home, he found the mother
of Peter's wife struck down with a violent attack of the local
fever for which Capernaum had so bad a notoriety. The
quantity of marshy land in the neighbourhood, especially at
the entrance of the Jordan into the Lake, has made fever
of a very malignant type at times the characteristic of the

THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

* Land and
Book, 8A6.

10 Vlt72.

CHAP, xxxni. locality,^ so that the physicians would not allow Josephus,
when hurt by his horse sinking in the neighbouring marsh,
to sleep even a single night in Capernaum, but hurried him
on to Tarichaea.^^ It was not to be thought that He who
had just sent joy and healing into the heart of a stranger,
would withhold His aid when a friend required it. The
anxious relatives forthwith besought His help, but'the gen-
tlest hint would have sufficed. It mattered not that it was
fever : He was forthwith in the chamber, bending over the
sick woman, and rebuking the disease as if it had been an
evil personality. He took her by the hand, doubtless with a
look, and with words, which made her His for ever, and
gently raising her, she found the fever gone and health and
strength returned, so that she could prepare their midday
meal for her household and their wondrous guest

The strict laws of the Jewish Sabbath gave a few hours of
rest to all, but the blast of the trumpet which announced its
close was the signal for a renewal of the popular excitement,
now increased by the rumour of a second miracle. ^^ With
the setting of the sun it was once more lawful to move be-
yond the two thousand paces of a Sabbath Day's journey,
and to carry whatever burdens one pleased. Forthwith,
began to gather from every street, and from the thickly
sown towns and villages round, the strangest assemblage.
The ohild led its blind father as near the enclosure of Simon's
house as the throng permitted : the father came carrying
the sick child ; men bore the helpless in swinging hammocks;
"all that had any sick, with whatever disease," brought
them to the Great Healer. The whole town was in motion,
and crowded before the house. What the sick of even a
small town implied may be imagined. Fevers, convulsions,
asthma, wasting consumption, swollen dropsy, shaking palsy,
the deaf, the dumb, the brain-affected, and, besides all,
" many that were possessed with devils," that last, worst,
symptom of the despairing misery and dark confusion of
the times.

Would He leave them as they were ? They had taken it
for granted that He would pity them, for was He not a
Prophet of God, and was it not natural that, like Elijah or

" Matt. 8. 15.
Mark 1. 82.
Lake 4. 40.

THE SICE HEALED. 7

Elisha, the greatest of the prophets, the power of God might ohap.
be present to heal those who were brought to Him ? Already,
moreover. His characteristics had won the confidence of the
simple crowd. There must have been a mysterious sym-
pathy and goodness in His looks, and words, and even in
His bearing, that seemed to beckon the wretched to Him
as their friend, and that conquered all uncomipted hearts.
It had drawn His disciples from the interests of gain, to
follow Him in His poverty ; it melted the woman that was a
sinner into tears ; it softened the hard nature of publicans ;
and drew hundreds of weary and heavy-laden to Him for
rest. Those who could, gathered wherever they might hope
to find Him, and as it was this evening, those who could not
come, had themselves carried into His presence. As many as
could, strove to touch, if it were possible, even His clothes ;
others confessed^ aloud their sins, and owned that their
illness was the punishment fi'om God. One would not
venture to ask Him to come to his house ; another brought
Him in that He might be, as it were, constrained to help.
The blind cried out to Him from the road-side, and the
woman of Canaan followed Him in spite of His hard words.
When He came near, even those possessed felt His divine
greatness. Trembling in every limb, they would fain have
fled, but felt rooted to the spot, the evil spirits owning, in
wild shrieks, the presence of one whose goodness was torment,
and before whose will they must yield up their prey.

The sight of so much misery crowding for relief touched
Jesus at once, and, erelong. He appeared at the open door,
before the excited crowd. With a command, '' Hold thy
peace, and come out of him," a poor demoniac was presently
in his right mind. The helpless lame stood up at the words
" I say unto thee. Arise." The paralytic left his couch, at the
sound of " Take up thy bed and walk." To some. He had
a word of comfort, that dispelled alarm and drove off its
secret cause. " Be it to thee according to thy faith." " Wo-
man, thou art loosed from thine infirmity." " Be of good
cheer, my son, thy sins are forgiven thee," was enough to
turn sorrow and pain into joy and health. Erelong He had
spoken to all some word of mercy. The blind left with

L.

8 THE LIFE OF CHBIST*

cHAP.TYxm. their sight restored ; the possessed thanked God for their
restoration ; the fever-stricken felt the glow of returning
vigour ; the dumb shouted His praises ; and thus the strange
crowd went off one by one, leaving the house once more in
the silence of the night. No wonder the Evangelist saw in
such an evening a fulfilment of the words of the prophet,

» From the " Himsclf took our infirmities and bore our diseases." ^^

Hebrew, not

^^^^ It was not, however, by popular excitement and mere out-
ward healing that the kingdom of God was to be spread,
but by the stiU and gentle influence of the Truth, work-
ing conviction in individual souls. The noisy crowd, the
thronging numbers of diseased and suffering ; the curiosity
that ran after excitement, and the yearning for help which
looked only to outward healing, troubled, and almost
alarmed Him. He had come to found a Spiritual Society,
of men changed in heart towards God, an<i filled with faith
in Himself as its Head ; and the merely external and mostly
selfish notions of the multitude, could not escape His keen •
eyes. His divine love and pity sighed over the bodily and
mei;ital distress around. But, as a rule, the sufferers thought
only of their outward misery, in melancholy ignorance of
its secret source in their own sin and guilt before God, and
had all their felt wants relieved when their bodily troubles
were removed.

In one aspect, indeed, these miraculous cures furthered
the great purpose of Jesus. They might prove no doctrine,
for mere power could not establish moral and spiritual truth.
Miracles might possibly be wrought by other influences
than divine, and left religious teaching to stand on its own
merits, for they appealed to the senses ; not, like truth, to the
soul. The display or overwhelming power might almost
seem to endanger, rather than promote, the higher aim of
Jesus, to win those whom He addressed. It awes and repels
men to find themselves in the presence of forces which they
can neither resist nor understand. In nature, untutored
races tremble before powers which may be used to destroy
them, and seek to win their favour by the flattery of worship,
surrounding even human despotism with awful attributes,
before which they cower in terror.

THE MIRACLES OF CHRIST. 9

Jesus, however, could appeal to His miraculous powers ohap.xxxiil
as evidences of His divine mission, and often did so. Their
value lay in the grandeur they added to His character. Even
in the wilderness. He had refused to exert them, under any
circumstances, either for His natural wants, or for His per-
sonal ends, and He adhered to this amazing self-restraint
through His whole career. It was seen from the first, that His
awful powers were uniformly beneficent; that He came, not
to destroy men's lives, but to sa^je them ; that He used omni-
potence to bless, but never to hurt. His words. His bearing,
and His looks of divine love and tenderness, doubtless pre-
disposed men to expect this, and His uniform course soon
confirmed it. They saw that nothing could disturb His
absolute patience, or rouse Him to vindictiveness. They
heard Him endure meekly the most contemptuous sneers,
the bitterest criticism, and the most rancorous hostility. No
one denied His miraculous powers, though some affected to
call them demoniac, in direct contradiction to their habitual
exercise for the hoUest ends. But they were so invariably
devoted to the good of others, and so entirely held in
restraint, as regarded personal ends, that men came, erelong,
to treat Him with the reckless boldness of hatred, notwith-
standing such awful endowment.

Round one so transcendency meek, self-interest found no
motive for gathering. He who would do nothing with such
possibilities, for Himself, could not be expected to do more
for the personal ends of others. Hypocrisy had nothing to
gain by seeking His favour. Only sincerity found Him
attractive. But, on the other hand, with the uncorrupted
and worthy, this characteristic gave Him unlimited moral
elevation. No more sublime spectacle can be conceived
than boundless power, kept in perfect control, for ends
whoUy unselfish and noble. Condescension wins admiration
when it is only fi^om man to man ; when it showed itself
in veiled omnipotence, ever ready to bless others, but never
used on its own behalf, it became a divine ideal. Men saw
Him clothed with power over disease, and even over death ;
able to cast forth spirits, or to still the sea, and yet accessible,
full of sympathy, the lofty patriot, the tender fiiend, the

10 THE LIFE OF CHBIST.

OHAP. xxxm. patient counsellor; shedding tears, at times, from a full
heart, and ever ready with a wise and gentle word for all ;
so unaffected and gentle that children drew round Him
with a natural instinct, and even worldly hardness and vice
were softened before Him ; and this contrast of transcendent
power, and perfect humility, made them feel that He was
indeed the Head of the Kingdom of God amongst men. The
secret of His amazing success, as the founder of a new
religious constitution for n)finkind, lay in the recognition
of this perfect sacrifice of one so transcendently great,

"BcceHomo. Culminating in "the death of the cross." ^^ It was the
perfect realization, in Himself, of the life He urged on others.
It implied the ideal fulfilment of all human duties, and no
less so, of aU divine, for the heavenly love which alone
could dictate and sustain such a career, was, in itself, the
most perfect transcript of the nature of God. A life in
which every step showed kingly grace and divinely bound-
less love, condescending to the lowliest self-denial for the
good of man, proclaimed Him the rightful Head of the
New Kingdom of God.

The night which followed this busy and eventful Sabbath
brought no repose to His body or mind. The excitement
around agitated and disturbed Him. It was His first
triumphant success, for, in the south, He had met with
little sympathy, though He had attracted crowds. But
curiosity was not progress, and excitement was not conver-
sion. Lowliness and concealment, not noisy throngs, were
the true conditions of His work, and of its firmest establish-
ment, and lasting glory. Mere popularity was, moreover,
a renewed temptation, for, as a man. He was susceptible of
the same seductions as His brethren. He might be drawn
aside to think of Himself, and to His holy soul the faintest
approach to this was a surrender to evil. Rising from His
couch, therefore, while the deep darkness which precedes
the dawn still rested on hill and valley, He left the house so
quietly that no one heard Him, and went, once more, to
the solitudes of the hills behind the town. Passing through
groves of palms, and orchards of fig and olive trees, inter-
mixed with vineyards and grassy meadows, with their

LONELY PRAYER. 11

tinkling brooks, so delightful in the East, and their unseen chap, xxxiil
glory of lilies and varied flowers. He soon reached the
heights, amongst which, at no great distance from the town,
were lonely ravines where He could enjoy perfect seclusion.
In the stillness of nature He was alone with His Father,
and far from the temptations which troubled the pure
simplicity of His soul, and His lowly meekness before God
and man. We, now, see the glory of the path He chose,
but while He lived, even His disciples would have planned
a very different course. Why not take advantage of the
excitement of the people to rouse the whole nation, as
John had done ? Was not His miraculous power a
means of endless benefit to men, and should it not,
therefore, be made the great feature of His work ?
Vanity would have suggested plausible grounds for His
using His gifts in a way, that, in reality, was not in
harmony with the great end of His mission. But His
soul remained unsullied, like the stainless light. He came
to do the will of His Father, and nothing could make Him
for a moment think of Himself. In lonely communion with
His own soul, and earnest prayer, the rising breath of temp-
tation passed once more away.'

Peter and Andrew, finding Him gone when they awoke,
were at a loss what to think. More sick persons were
gathering, and the crowds of yesterday promised to be larger
to-day. Hasting to the hills, to which they rightly sup-
posed He had retired, and having found Him at last, they
fancied He would at once return with them, on hearing that
the whole people were seeking Him. But He had a wider
sphere than Capernaum, and higher duties than mere bodily
healing. " I have not come to heal the sick," said He, " but
to announce and spread the kingdom of God. All I do is
subordinate to this. Let us, therefore, go to the neigh-
bouring towns, for I must preach the kingdom of God to
other cities, as well as to Capernaum." ^ Nor would He be
persuaded to return for a time, though some of the people
had already found out His retreat, and joined with the
disciples in begging Him to do so.

The circuit now be^n was the first of a series, in which

12 THE LIFE OF CHBIST.

oHAP.xxxni. Jesus visited every part of Galilee, ^^ preaching and teaching
"SlSi-S; i^ t^^ sjmiagogue of each town that had one, and often,
doubtless, in the open air. It was the bright and sunny
time of the year, when the harvest was quickly ripening.^
The heat was already oppressive at noon, but the mornings
and evenings permitted more easy travelling. It was a time
of intense labour for the Saviour, of which the day's work
in Capernaum was only a sample. The bounds of Gralilee
embraced the many villages and towns of the Plain of
Esdraelon, and the whole of the hiUy country north of it,
almost to Lebanon. Day by day brought its march from
one village or town to others, over the thirsty limestone
uplands, where the wanderer thankfully received the cup
of cold water, as a gift to be recompensed in the kingdom of
God, or through glowing vineyards, or among the corn-
fields whitening to the harvest, or falling under the sickle
of the reaper. " Every day," said Jesus to His disciples,
" has its own troubles ; " for weariness ; possibly, at times,
hunger ; the dependence on hospitality for shelter; the pres-
sure of crowds ; the stolid indifference of too many ; the idle
curiosity of more ; the ever-present misery of disease in all its
forms ; and, it may be, even thus early, the opposition of
some, must have borne heavily on a nature like His. The
news of His miracles had spread lik§ running fire through
the whole country, and attracted crowds from all parts.
Beyond Palestine, on the north, they had become the com-
mon talk of Syria; on the east, they had stirred the
w TheDe- populatiou of the wide district of the ten cities, ^^ and of
capoito. Perea, and, on the south. His name was on all lips in
Jerusalem and Judea. Erelong, it seemed as if the scenes
of John's preaching were returning, for numbers gathered
to Him from all these parts, and followed Him, day by day,
in His movements through the land. His progress was,
indeed, worthy of such an attendance, for no king ever
celebrated such a triumph. Conquerors returning from
victory over kingdoms and empires had led trains of
trembling captives in their train. But, at every resting-
place, a sad crowd of sufferei's from aU diseases and painful
afiections, tmd of demoniacs, lunatics, and paralytics, was

LBPBOST. 13

gathered in the path of Jesus, and He healed them by a ohap.xxxiil
word or a touch. Escorted into each town by those whom
He had thus restored — ^the lately sick and dying whom
He had instantaneously cured, — it is no wonder that the
whole land rang with the story. The enemies over whom
He triumphed were pain, and sickness, and death, and the
rejoicings that greeted Him were shouts of gratitude and
blessing as the Prince of Life.

Only one incident of this wondrous journey is recorded
at any length. ^^ In one of the cities He visited, He was sud- »• Mjttt.8.«-4.
denly met by a man " full of leprosy," a disease at all times J^j^u^^j^
terrible, but aggravated, in the opinion of that day, by the
belief that it was a direct "stroke of God," as a punishment
for special sins.^^ It began with little specks on the eyelids, " Ew»id'« Ait
and on the palms of the hand, and gradually spread over *"■
different parts of the body, bleaching the hair white wher-
ever it showed itself, crusting the affected parts with
shining scales, and causing swellings and sores. From the
skin it slowly ate its way through the tissues, to the bones
and loints and even to the marrow,^® rottinff the whole body »• wtaer,iirt
piecemeal. The lungs, the organs of speech and hearing,
and the eyes were attacked in turn, tUl, at last, consumption
or dropsy brought welcome death. The dread of infection
kept men aloof from the sufferer, and the Law proscribed
him, as, above all men, unclean. The disease was heredi-
tary to the fourth generation. No one thus afflicted could
remain in a walled town, though he might live in a village. ^^ » Dureh
There were different varieties of leprosy, but all were ^[^^^
dreaded as the saddest calamity of life. The leper was
required to rend his outer garment, to go bareheaded, and "
to cover his mouth so as to hide his beard, as was done in
lamentation for the dead. He had, further, to warn passers
by away from him by the cry of " Unclean, unclean ;"2^»LeT. is. «.
not without the thought that the sound would call forth
a prayer for the sufferer, and less from the fear of infection,
than to prevent contact with one thus visited by God, and
unclean.* He could not speak to any one, or receive or
return a salutation. In the lapse of ages, however, these
rules had been in some degree relaxed. A leper might live

14 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

cHAP^xmn. in an open village, with any one willing to receive him and
to become unclean for his sake, and he might even enter
the synagogue, if he had a part specially partitioned off for

«• A MecUtt. himself, ^^ and was the first to enter the building, and the
last to leave. He even at times ventured to enter a town,
though forbidden under the penalty of forty stripes. But
it was a living death, in the slow advance of which a man
became daily more loathsome to .himself*, and even to his
dearest friends. "These four are counted as dead," says
the Talmud, "the blind, the leper, the poor, and the

a Lii^tfoot,n8. childless." ^

The news of the wondrous cures wrought on so many had
reached the unfortunate man, who now dared the Law, to
make his way to the healer. Falling at His feet in humble
reverence, he delighted the spirit of Jesus by, perhaps, the
first open confession of a simple and lowly faith — " Lord, if
Thou wilt. Thou canst make me clean." His kneeling before
Him, and addressing Him by such a title, was, indeed, only
what he would have done to any one greatly above him,^
but his frank belief in His power, and his implicit submission
to His will, touched a heart so tender. Moved with com-
passion for the unfortunate, there was no delay — a touch of
the hand, and the words, " I will : be thou clean," and he
rose, a leper no longer. To have touched him, was, in the
eyes of a Jew, to have made Himself unclean, but He had
come to break through the deadly externalism that had taken
the place of true religion, and could have shown no more
strikingly how He looked on mere Rabbinical precepts than
by making a touch which, till then, had entailed the worst
uncleanness, the means of cleansing. Slight though it
seemed, the touch of the leper was the proclamation that
Judaism was abrogated henceforth.

The popular excitement had already extended widely, and
a cure like this was certain to raise it still higher. With
the Baptist in prison on a pretended political charge, and
the people full of political dreams in connection with the
expected Messiah, all that might fan the flame was to be
dreaded. Excitement, moreover, waB unfavourable to the
great work of Jesus. He needed a thoughtful calm in the

1

CBRBMONT OF CLEANSIKG THE IiEPER. 15

mind, for lasting effects. The kingdom of God which He oHAP^xxxni
proclaimed was no mere appeal to the feelings, but sought
the understanding and heart. Turning to the newly cured,
therefore, He spoke earnestly to him, not to tell any one
what had happened, threatening him with His anger, if he
should disobey.^^ " Go to Jerusalem," said He, " and show" ^/*3p«/«io/ic«.
yourself to the priest, and make the offerings for your cleans-
ing, required by the Law,, as a proof to your neighbours, to
the priests, the scribes, and the people at large, that you are
really clean."

A certificate of the recovery of a leper could only be
given at Jerusalem, by a priest, after a lengthened exami-
nation, and tedious rites, and, no doubt, these were duly
undergone and performed. It will illustrate the " bondage "
of the ceremonial law, as then in force, to describe them.
With his heart full of the first joy of a cure so amazing, for
no one had ever before heard of the recovery of a man
"full of leprosy," he set off to the Temple for the requisite
papers to authorize his return, once more, to the roll of
Israel. A tent had to be pitched outside the city, and in
this the priest examined the leper, cutting off all his hair
with the utmost care, for if only two hairs were left, the cere-
mony waa invalid. Two sparrows had to be brought at this
first stage of the cleansing ; the one, to be killed over a
small earthen pan of water, into which its blood must
drop : the other, after being sprinkled with the blood Of its
mate, — a cedar twig, to which scarlet wool and a piece of
hyssop were bound, being used to do so, — was let free in
such a direction that it should fly to the open country.
After the scrutiny by the priest, the leper put on clean
clothes, and carried away those he had worn to a running
stream, to wash them thoroughly, and to cleanse himself by
a bath. He could now enter the city, but for seven days
more could not enter his own house. On the eighth day
after, he once more submitted to the scissors of the
priest, who cut off whatever hair might have grown in the
interval. Then followed a second bath, and now he had
only carefully to avoid any defilement, so as to be fit to
attend in the Temple next morning, and complete his

16 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

CHAP. xxxm. cleansing. The first step in this final purification was to ofifer
three lambs, two males and a female, none of which must be
under a year old. Standing at the outer edge of the court
of the men, which he was not yet worthy to enter, the leper
waited the longed-for rites. These began by the priest
taking one of the male lambs destined to be slain as an
atonement for the leper, and leading it to each point of the
compass in turn, and by his swinging a vessel of oil on all
sides, in the same way, as if to present both to the universally
present God. He then led the lamb to the leper, who laid
his hands on its head, and gave it over as a sacrifice for
his guilt, which he now confessed. It was forthwith killed
at the north side of the altar, two priests catching its blood,
the one in a vessel, the other in his hand. The first now
sprinkled the altar with the blood, while the other went to
the leper and anointed his ears, his right thumb, and his
right toe with it. The one priest then poured some oil of
the leper's offering into the left hand of the other, who, in
his turn, dipped his finger seven times into the oil thus held,
and sprinkled it as often towards the Holy of Holies. Each
part of the leper which before had been touched with the
blood, was then further anointed with the oil, what remained
being stroked on his head.

The leper could now enter the men's court, and did so,
passing through it to that of the priests. The female lamb
was next killed, as a sin-offering, after he had put his hands
on its head, part of its blood being smeared on the horns of
the altar, while the rest was poured out at the altar base.
The other male lamb was then slain for a burnt sacrifice ; the
leper once more laying his hands on its head, and the priest
sprinkling its blood on the altar. The fat, and all that was
fit for an offering, was now laid on the altar, and burned as
a " sweet-smelling savour " to God. A meat-offering of fine
wheat meal and oil ended the whole ; a portion being laid
on the altar, while the rest, with the two lambs, of which
only a small part had been burned, formed the dues of the

w Dutch priest.^* It was not till all this had been done that the full

£^^!^ ceremony of cleansing, or showing himself to the priest, had

been carried out,^ and that the cheering words, '^ Thou art

POPULAB EXCITBMBNT/ 17

pure,** restored the sufferer once more to the rights of citizen- ohap. xxxin.
ship and of intercourse with men. No wonder that even a
man like St. Peter, so tenderly minded to his ancestral reli-
gion, should speak of its requirements as a yoke which
" neither our fathers nor we are able to bear." ^^ "Acts 15.10.

Of the after-history of the leper thus cleansed we are not
informed. It appears, however, that his joy at being healed
was too great to be * repressed even by Christ's grave impo-
sition of silence. The multitudes around Jesus would soon,
of themselves, spread news of the miracle, but the healed
man widened and heightened the excitement by telling
everywhere on his road to Jerusalem what had befallen
him. The result was that Jesus could no longer enter a
town or city, so great was the commotion His presence ex-
cited. Nor was it of any avail that He retired tp the open
country, for even when He betook Himself to the upland
solitudes, great multitudes continually sought Him out,*"
either to hear His words, or to be healed of their various
diseases.

In such busy and exhausting scenes the days of early
autumn passed. But, whatever the returning toils of each
morning, the Saviour still craved and secured hours of
lonely calm, for we read in St. Luke that, during all these
weeks. He was wont to withdraw, doubtless by night, into
lonely places to pray.^* * ^y

Imperfect of
oiutom.
Winer, 203.

VOL. IL 41

18 THE LIFE OF CHBIST

CHAPTER XXXIV.

• LIGHT AND DABKNESS.

cHAP^xiv. rpHE cure of the leper seems to have resulted in Jesus
J- returning, for a moment, to Capernaum. He had
acted with the greatest caution during His mission, to avoid
giving offence, and thus raising opposition, which would be
fatal at the very opening of His ministry. From many a
hill-top on His joumeyings, He and His disciples had,
doubtless, often looked to the mountains in the south-east,
amidst which John lay, a helpless prisoner ; and they must
have felt that the prince who had thus cut short the work
of the great Reformer, might be readily moved to the
same violence towards themselves. Jesus had, therefore,
shunned notoriety ; and though He never hesitated to accept
homage, where it was sincere and spontaneous, He had
never demanded it, and had kept even His miraculous
powers in strict subordination to the great work of pro-
claiming the advent of the kingdom of God. The appeals
of pain and misery had, indeed, constrained Him to relieve
them, but He had accompanied His miracles by a strict pro-
hibition of their being made publicly known, further than
was inevitable.

In spite of every precaution, however, the report of His
wonderful doings spread far and wide, and drew ever in-
creasing attention. Political circles, as yet, did not con-
descend to notice Him, but the sleepless eyes of the ecclesi-
astical authorities were already watching Him. It was enough
that He acted independently of them. Not to be with them
was, in their eyes, to be against them, for they claimed, as
the spiritual leaders of the nation, the sole direction of its
religious teaching. The more wonderful His works, the

DANGER m PROSPECT, 19

greater their excitement, and the keener their jealousy. In ohap.xxxiv.
any case, therefore, the words which accompanied such ex-
traordinary manifestations, would have been watched with
the closest scrutiny, for any chance of vindicating their care
of the religious interests entrusted to them. In an age of
such rigid literalism and imchanging conservatism, no teacher
with the least individuality of thought or expression could
hope to escape, where the determination to condemn was
ah-eady fixed. Far less was it possible for one Eke Jesus —
so sincere amidst general insincerity ; so intense and real
amidst what was hollow and outward ; so pure and elevated
amidst what was gross and worldly; so tenderly human,
amidst what was harsh and exclusive — to avoid giving pre-
text for censure. The priests and Rabbis, through the
whole land, felt instinctively that their influence was im-
perilled by His lightest word. They, already, were coldly
suspicious. The next step would be to blame, and they
would seek, before long, to destroy Him, for it has, in all
ages, been the sad characteristic of the leaders of dominant
religious parties, to confound the gratification of the worst
passions with loyalty to their office.

Perhaps Jesus had hoped that in Capernaum, at least.
He would find an interval of repose, for His absence might
have been expected to have allayed the excitement. No
spot in Palestine seemed less likely to be disturbed by the
hostility of the schools. In Jerusalem, men looked back to
a past dating from Melchisedek, and were its slaves, but
Capernaum was so new that its name does not occur at all
in the Old Testament. But He soon found that the dark
and hateful genius of Rabbinism, with its puerile customs
and formulas, and its fierce bigotry, was abroad through
the whole land.

It was vain to expect that a *' city set on a hill" could be
hidden. He had scarcely re-entered the town, before it ran
from mouth to mouth that He had returned, and was at
home.^ Crowds presently ffathered, and fiUed not only the « M*it. 9. 2-9.

Mftrk 2 1—14

house, but the space before it. There was to be no rest for Luke 5.17-28.
the Son of Man, till He found it in the garden grave of
Joseph of Arimathea. The applause, the gaping wonder,

20 THE UFE OF CHBIST.

oHAP.xxxiv. the huge concourse of people, were only a grief to Him,
He had broken away from them before, and sought refuge
from the temptations they tended to excite, in lonely prayer
by night, on the neighbouring hills, under the pure and
silent stars. They had followed Him on His journey from
town to town, and, now, on His return to Capernaum, the
clamour of voices, and the pressure of throngs, beset Him
more than ever. Had anxiety to hear the truths of the new
spiritual kingdom caused this excitement, it would have
been healthy, but it had been already shown only too clearly
that, while men believed in His power to heal, they cared
little for His higher claims. Regret for bodily iUness, or.
ready sympathy with the sufferers, simply as under physical
trouble, were evidently the only thought, to the exclusion of
any sense of graver spiritual disease in all alike. The very
maladies often revealed moral impurity as their cause ; and
the selfish struggle for His favour, and the too frequent
ingratitude of the cured, saddened His soul. Of the multi-
tudes whom He had healed, most had disappeared, without
any signs of having heeded His appeals and warnings.
Even the leper,* who had at least promised silence, was

t schenkei, hardly out of His presence before he forgot his pledge.^
76. He was already the Man of Sorrows, but divine compassion

still urged Him to heaL

To make the trial greater, it was evident that mischief
was brewing. The Rabbis were astir. They had heard of
the multitudes attracted from the other side of the Jordan

• Matt. 4. », S3, on the east ; from as far as Jerusalem,® and even Idumea,
«Maik8.8. on the south, and from Phenicia on the north;* and had

followed the crowds, and gathered in Capernaum from
every town of Galilee and Jud^ and from Jerusalem itself,
to hear and see the new wonder. Sensitive in their own
interest, they came with no friendly motive, but cold and
hostile; to criticize, and, if possible, to condemn.

Even in Galilee the influence of the order was great. It
had done immense service to the nation in earlier days in
kindling an intense feeling of nationality, and an enthu-
siasm, at first healthy and beneficial, though now perverted,

• preaaei, in for their faith." The Rabbis were the heads of the nation,

Henog, zU.
473.

POWXB OF THE BABBIS. 21

in the widest sense, for the religion of the people was also ohap.xxxiv>
their politics. They were the theologians, the jurists, the
legislators, the politicians, and, indeed, the soul of Israel.^ • schpift.
The priests had sunk to a subordinate place in the public ^ewog, xiu.
regard. The veneration which the people felt for their
Law was willingly extended to its teachers. They were
greeted reverently in the street and in the market-place,
men rising up before them as they passed ; the title of Rabbi
was universally accorded them ; the front seats of the sjma-
gogues were set apart for them ; and they took the place of
honour at all family rejoicings, that they might discourse,
incidentally, to the company, on the Law. Wise in their
generation, they fostered this homage by external aids.
Their long robes, their broad phylacteries, or prayer fillets,
on their forehead and ann, their conspicuous Tephillin, with
the sacred tassels dangling from each comer, were part of
themselves, without which they were never seen. The
people gloried in them as the crown of Israel, and its dis-
tinguishing honour above all other nations.* " Learn where
is wisdom," says Baruch, "where is strength, where is under-
standing. It has not been heard of in Canaan, nor seen in
Teman. The Hagarenes seek wisdom, and the traders of
Meran and Teman, and the poets and philosophers, but
they have not found out the way of wisdom, or discovered
her path. God has foimd out the whole way of wisdom,
and hath given it to His servant Jacob, and to Israel, His
beloved."^ Jerusalem was, naturally, while the Temple Bamohs.
worship continued, the head-quarters of the wisdom of the
Kabbis^ but they were found in all the synagogue towns
both of Judea and Galilee. They formed the members of
the local, ecclesiastical, and criminal courts over the country,
and at Jerusalem, virtually controlled the authorities, and
thus framed the religious and general law for the nation at
large, so far as allowed by the Romans. Their activity
never rested. Whether as guests from the Holy City, or as
residents, they pervaded the land, visiting every school and
synagogue, to extend their influence by teaching and ex-
hortations. A Rabbi, indeed, could move from place to
place with little trouble, for, in most cases, he lived by trade

22

THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

• Hau8T»th,L
79, 80.

CHAP, xxiiv. or handicraft, and could thus unite business and religion in
his missionary journeys. Their ceaseless circuits are painted
in the Targum on Deborah's song. It makes the prophetess
say — " I am sent to praise the Scribes of Israel, who ceased
not, in the evil times, to expound the Law. It was beau-
tiful to see how they sat in the synagogues, and taught the
people the words of the Law ; how they uttered the bless-
ings, and confessed the truth before God. Tliey neglected
their own affairs, and rode on asses round the whole land,
and sat for judgment." The paraphrase is an anachronism
when applied to the age of the Judges, but it vividly illus-
trates Rabbinical zeal in the days of Christ.^

Soon after His return to Capernaum, an incident occurred
which led to the first open difference between Jesus and
this all-powerful order. The crowds had gathered in such
numbers at Peter's house, that not only the house itself,
but the space before it, was once more full. Among the
audience were Scribes from all parts, to see if they should
unite with the new movement, and turn it to their OAvn
purposes, or take measures against it. If we may judge
from the ruins on the site of the town, the house was only
a single very low story high, with a flat roof, reached by a
stairway from the yard or court,^ and Jesus may have stood
near the door, in such a position as to be able to address the
crowd outside, as well as those in the chamber.^ Possibly,
however, there were two stories in this particular house, as
there must have been in some in the town, and in that case
the upper one would likely be a large room — the " upper "
and best chamber — such as was often used elsewhere by
Rabbis, for reading and expounding the Law to their dis-

»• ugMfoot, ciples/^ and Jesus may have stood near the open window,

Mark, H. 400. ,, t,i •! i-.i-ii

jDeiitxiich,Ein go as to bc hcaxd both outside and witnm.^^

Tag in

From some favourable spot He was addressing the thickly
crowded audience about the kingdom of God, so long
prophesied, and now, at last, in their midst, when four men
approached bearing a sick person, on a hammock slung
between them. It proved to be a man entirely paralyzed.
Unable to make their way through the throng, the bearers
went round the house to see what should be done. They

• Hatt 24. 17.
Land and
Book,8d8.

Capemaum,
86.

li Ewald,
OeBchichte,
▼. 875.

THE PARALYTIC MAN. 23

had likely come from a distance, and thus were too late to ohap. xxxiv>
get at once near the great Healer. The outside stairs to the
roof, however, offered them a solution of their difficulty.
The sick man was bent on getting to the feet of Jesus, and
willingly let them raise him, which they were able to do
by fastening cords to the hammock, and pulling it up, after
they themselves had got to the top by the narrow and
ladder-like steps.

Their trembling burden once safely on the roof, the rest
waa easy. Eastern houses are, in many ways, very different
firom ours, but in none more strikingly than in the lightness
of the roof. Rafters are laid on the top of the side walls,
about three feet apart, and on these short sticks are put, till
the whole space is covered. Over these, again, a thick coating
of brushwood, or of some common bush, is spread. A coat of
mortar comes next, burying and levelling all beneath it, and
on this again is spread marl or earth, which is rolled flat
and hard.^^ Many roofs, indeed, are much slighter — earth w Landand
closely rolled or beaten down, perhaps mixed with ashes,
lime, and chopped straw, — ^being aU the owners can afford, and
thus, even at this day, it is common to see grass growing on
the house-top after the rains, and repairs of cracks made by
the sun's rays are often needed in the hot season, to prevent
heavy leakage.^® It is thus easy to break up a roof when » Am.
necessary, and it is often done. The earth is merely scraped ^^^y
back from a part, and the thorns and short sticks removed, G?S^d^5Si.
till an opening of the required size is made.^* ** BS?k,M9.

Through some such simple roofing the four bearers now
opened a space large enough to let down the sick man into
the chamber where Jesus stood.® Cords tied to the couch
made the rest easy, and the paralytic was presently at the
feet of Jesus. He lay there, the living dead, but his outward
troubles were not his greatest. Looking on his calamity
as a punishment from God for past sins, — perhaps feeling
that it had been brought upon him by a vicious life, — ^he was
even more sorely stricken in spirit than in body. No one,
he felt, could help him but He to reach whom had been
his deepest wish. To be healed within, was even more with
him than to be restored to outward health. He had nothing

24 THE LIFE OF CHBI8T.

oHAP.xxxiy. to say ; perhaps he could not speak, for palsy often hinders
articulation. But his eyes told his whole story, and He
before whom he had thus strangely come read it at a glance.
He was still a young man, which in itself awakened sympathy,
but he had, besides, in his anxiety to get near, by whatever
means, and the humility which sought cleansing from guilt
more than restoration to health, shown a recognition of Christ's
higher dignity as the dispenser of spiritual blessings. With
an endearing word used by teachers to disciples, or by
superiors in age or rank, Jesus flashed the light of hope on
his troubled spirit. " My child," said He, " thy sins are
forgiven thee."

It was a wondrous utterance, and must have sounded still
more strangely, when thus first heard, than to us, who have
been familiar with it from childhood. No one had ever
heard Him admit, even by a passing word. His own sinful-
ness ; He showed no humility before God as a sinner ; never
sought pardon at His hands. Yet no Rabbi approached
Him in opposition to all that was wrong, for He went even
beyond the act to the sinful desire. The standard He
demanded was no less than the awful perfection of God.
But those round Him heard Him now rise above any mere
tacit assumption of this sinless purity by His setting
Himself in open contrast to sinners, in His claim not only
to announce the forgiveness of sins by God, but, Himself, to
dispense it. He pardons the sins of the repentant creature
before Him on His own authority, as a King, which it would
be contradictory to have done had He Himself been con-
scious of having sin and guilt of His own. It was clear
that He could have ventured on no such assumption of the
prerogative of God, had He not felt in Himself an absolute
harmony of spiritual nature with Him, so that He only

i» Dnmami, uttcrcd what He knew was the divine will.^' It was at
s^diodgkdt, ^^^^ ^ proclamation of His own sinlessness, and of His

kingly dignity as the Messiah, in whose hands had been
placed the rule over the new theocracy.

The Rabbis felt, in a moment, all that such words implied.
Their only idea of a religious teacher was that he should
never venture a word on his own authority, but slavishly

FOBGIVSNE83 OF SINS. 25

follow Other earlier Rabbis. They had all the conservatism ohap.xxxiv>
of lawyers. One Beth-din could not put aside the decision
of another, unless it was superior in wisdom and numbers,^* " Dewnbourg,
and how little likely it was that, even in such a case, any
decision should be superseded, may be judged from the fact
that for any one to dispute with a Rabbi or murmur against
him, or to hesitate in accepting and obeying his every word,
was no less a crijooie than to do the same towards God Himself.^^ « EtMnmeager.
Even the people had caught the spirit of changeless con-
servatism from their teachers, for, when John Hyrcanus, with
a kindly view to relieve them from an almost intolerable
burden, ventured to prohibit some trifling Rabbinical rules
of the Pharisees, his well-meant liberality, instead of gaining
him favour, excited hatred against him as an intruder and
innovator.^® The type of a strict Rabbi found its ideal in w Doenboorg,
Schammai, the xivsl of Hillel, and founder of the school
which was mbst bitter against Jesus. It was not enough
that he sought to make even young children fest through
the whole day of Pardon: during the Feast of Tabernacles
he had the roof taken from the room in which lay his
daughter-in-law and her new-bom son, to have a tent raised
over them, that the baby might be able to keep the feast.^^ » Derenboorg.

The lofty words of Je^us at once caught the ears of the
lawyers on the watch. They sounded new, and to be new
was to be dangerous. Nothing in Judaism had been left
unfixed ; every religious act, and indeed, every act whatever,
must follow minutely prescribed rules. The Law knew
no such form as an official forgiving of sins, or absolution.
The leper might be pronounced clean by the priest, and a
transgressor might present a sin-offering at the Temple, and
transfer his guilt to it, by laying his hands on its he^d and
owning his fault before God, and the blood sprinkled by the
priest on the horns of the altar, and towards the Holy of
Holies, was an atonement that " covered " his sins from the
eyes of Jehovah, and pledged his forgiveness. But that
forgiveness was the direct act of God ; no human lips dared
pronounce it It was a special prerogative of the Almighty,^^ " S »."«:
and even should mortal man venture to declare it, he could STijf^'"'
only do so in the name of Jehovah, and by His immediate

26 THE LIFE OF CHBIST.

CHAP. XXXIV. authorization. But Jesus had spoken in His own name. He
had not hinted at being empowered by God to act for Him.
The Scribes were greatly excited ; whispers, ominous head-
shakings, dark looks, and pious gesticulations of alarm, showed
that they were ill at ease. " He should have sent him to the
priest to present his sin-offering, and have it accepted : it is
blasphemy to speak of forgiving sins, He is intruding
on the divine rights." The blasphemer was to be put to
death by stoning, his body hung on a tree, and then

« LeT. 94. i«. buried with shame.^^ " Who can forgive sins but One,

Ant.lT.8.6. ^ , ^„ ° '

God r

It was the turning point in the life of Jesus, for the
accusation of blasphemy, now muttered in the hearts of the
Rabbis present, was the beginning of the process which ended,
after a time, on Calvary ; and He knew it. The genius of
Rabbinism was in direct antagonism to that of His " new
teaching." Christ required a change of heart ; the Rabbis,
instruction ; He looked at the motive of an act ; they, at its
strict accordance to legal forms ; He contented Himself with
implanting a principle of pure and loving obedience in the
breast, which should make men a law to themselves t they
taught that every detail of religious observance, from the
cradle to the grave, — to the very smallest, — should be pre-
scribed, and rigidly followed in every formal particular. He
promised the Divine Spirit to aid His followers to a perfect
obedience ; the Rabbis enforced obedience by the terrors of
« prenei. thc Church courts, which they controlled.^^ Resting thus
Hwwg, xiL on wholly different conceptions ; the Rabbi, self-satisfied in
the observance of external rites and requirements ; Jesus
repudiating merit, and basing His kingdom on the willing
service of humble and grateful love, the only question was
how long, in an intolerant theocracy, active hostility might
be averted. The lowly, wandering, GaUlaean teacher, who
despised long robes and phylacteries, and associated with the
rude and ignorant, from whom the Rabbis shrank as accursed
for not knowing the Rabbinical law ; who had no license as
teacher from any Beth-din ; who had attended no Beth-ha-
Midrasch, or RabbiV School of the Law, and was thus a
mere untrained k^man, usurping clerical functions, was

THE BABBIS ABOUSED.

27

instinctively suspected and hated, though they could not cHAP^miv.
affect to despise Him. The kingdom of God which He
preached was, moreover, something new and irregular. In the
words of Baruch,^* they expected that all who kept the Law » Bwuch 4. 2.
in their sense, would, in return, have eternal lifo, as a right,
as indeed, one of their proverbs plainly put it, — " He who
buys the words of the Law, buys everlasting life."^* Esteeming ^ p. adoui.
themselves blamelessly righteous,^^ they not only despised » £^/i^^
others, but claimed Heaven, as the special favourites of Matt. 28. 28.
God. It must, therefore, have been galling in the extreme,
to hear Jesus demand humility and repentance, and faith in
Himself, as the universal conditions of entrance into the
new kingdom of God ; to be confounded with the crowd on
whom they looked as Brahmins on Sudras; and to be
stripped of their boasting, and even of their hopes of
future political glory, by the proclamation of a new and
purely spiritual theocracy, in the place of the national
restoration of which they dreamed, with themselves at its
head.^^ Only a spark was wanting to set their hostililg?' *• ,^^'*«®"
ablaze, and this had now been supplied. n^g^m.

For the time they were helpless, in the presence of so
much enthusiasm for Jesus, but this only increased their
bitterness, on their finding that He had kept His eyes on
them, and knew their thoughts. They were now still more
confused by His openly asking them, ^' Why they were
thinking evil in their hearts ?" He had long felt that He
could not hope to make any healthy impression on a class
who affected to regard Him as half beside Himself on
reli^ous matters,^^ and as one who had set Himself up as a •^ ^*j|;|i'
Rabbi, and excited the people against their teachers. He
knew that they put the worst construction on all He said,
and were laying up matter for future open attack. But no
passing thought of fear disturbed Him. He had come to
witness to the truth, and at once accepted the challenge
which their hostile looks and bearings implied. Without
waiting to be assailed, He suddenly asked them, "Which
is easier? To say to this paralytic. Thy sins are forgiven, or
to say. Rise, and take up thy bed and go ? " There might be
deception about the forgiveness, for no one could teU if the

2 Cor. 6. 18.

28 THB LIFE OF CHBIST.

cHAP.rmv. absolution were of any avail, but there could be none respect-
ing the cure of a helpless living corpse. Turning to the bed
without waiting an answer, He continued — ^in irresistible
self-vindication — "That ye may know that the Son of
Man has authority on the earth to forgive sins, — Rise, poor
man, take up the mat on which you have been lying, and go
home." It was enough ; sensibility and power of motion
returned to the helpless limbs ; muscles and nerves lost their
torpor; strength poured once more through the veins,
Slowly, scarce realizmg what it meant, he rose, little by
little, his eyes fixed on his deliverer, till, at last, he stood erect
before Him, to sink at His knees again in grateful adoration.
But he could not be allowed to stay. Stepping back, with-
out saying a word, Jesus, by a look, motioned him to
retire, and lifting the mat,^ he did so, his eyes stiU fixed on
his helper, as he made his way backward through the awe-
stricken crowd.

The effect was electric. The Scribes were, for the time,
discomfited. Amazement and fear mingled with religious
awe. " We never saw it thus," cried some, while others,
with true Eastern demonstrativeness, broke out into praise
of God who had given such power to men. Meanwhile,
Jesus glided out of the apartment, sad at heart, for the
shadow of the cross had fallen on His soul.

A number of disciples must, by this time, have been
gained in different parts, but the inner circle gathered by
Jesus, as His personal followers, was as yet limited to the few
whom he had first " called." Another was, now, however,
to be added to their number. Capernaum, as a busy trad-
ing town, on the marches between the dominions of Philip
and those of Antipas, and, fi:om its being on the high road

« Aore. between Damascus and Ptolemais,^® had a strong staff of
custom-house officers, or publicans,® to use the common name.
The traffic landed at Capernaum from across the Lake, or
shipped from it, had to pay dues, and so had all that
entered or left the town in other directions. There were
tolls on the highways, and on the bridges, and at each
place the humbler grades of publicans were required, while
a few of a higher rank had charge of the aggregate receipts

PUBLICANS. 29

of the minor offices of the district. These officials were ohap. xxxiv.
often freemen, or even slaves of the larger farmers of the
local imposts; sometimes natives of the part, and even
poor Roman citizens. The whole class, however, had a
bad name for greed and exaction.^^ So loud, indeed, and» lit.xxv.s;
serious, did the remonstrances of the whole Romau world «i Quint, i
become at the tyranny and plunderings thus suffered, that, STo.'*"'
a generation later, Nero proposed to the Senate to do away
with taxes altogether, though the idea resulted only in an
official admission that the "greed of the publicans must
be repressed, lest they should at last, by new vexations,
render the public burdens intolerable." *^ The underlings, ■••&«. Ann.
especially, sought to enrich themselves by grinding the
people: and the checks they caused to commerce, the
trouble they gave by reckless examination of goods, and by
tedious delays ; by false entries, and illegal duties ; made
them intensely hated. " Bears and lions," said a proverb,
" might be the fiercest wild beasts in the forests, but publi-
cans and informers were the worst in the cities." ^^ The « stob. sarm.
Jews, who bore the Roman yoke with more impatience than
any other nation, and shunned all contact with foreigners,
excommunicated every Israelite who became a publican, and
declared him incompetent to bear witness in their courts,
and the disgrace extended to his whole family. Nobody
was allowed to take alms from one, or to ask him to change
money for them. They were even classed with highway rob-
bers and murderers,^^ or with harlots, heathen, and sinners. "jjNedar
No strict Jew would eat, or even hold intercourse, with

them.*^ ■* ilrt."Z«lnoi;"

With a supreme indifference to the prejudices of the day, x^fl-iw.
Jesus resolved to receive one of this proscribed order into
the inner group of His followers. With a wide and generous
charity He refused to condemn a whole class. That they
were outcasts from society was a special reason why He, the
Son of Man, should seek to win them to a better life. He
refused to admit anything wrong in paying tribute to Csesar,** " M»*t «. w.
and hence saw no sin in its collection. There was no neces-
sity for a publican not being just and fidthful, alike to the
people and to the State, and He had seen for Himself that

30 THE LTPB OF CHRIST.

CHAP. xxgiv. there were some against whom nothing could be justly
urged.' It was, moreover, a fundamental principle with Him,
that the worst of men, if they sincerely repented, and turned
to God, should be gladly received, as prodigal sons who
sought to regain the favour of their Father in heaven. He
had come to seek and to save that which was lost, and He
sought to proclaim to mankind that He despaired of none,
by recognizing, in the most hopeless, the possibility of good.
Looking abroad on the world with a divine love and com-
passion that knew no distinction of race or calling, He
designed to show, at its very birth, that the kingdom He came
to establish was open to all humanity, and that the only
condition of citizenship was spiritual fitness.

Among the publicans, at one of the posts for collecting
duties, at Capernaum, was one whom his name, Levi, marked
as belonging to the old priestly tribe, though, perhaps, bom
in Gralilee, and now sunk to so questionable a position. He
had another name, Matthew, however, by which he is better
known as one of the Apostles, and the author of the first
Gospel. His business was to examine the goods passing either
way on the great high road between the territories of the two
neighbouring tetrarchs, to enter them on the ofiicial record,
to take the duties and credit them in his books, in order, ^
finally, to pay over the gross proceeds, at given times, to the
local tax-farmer. He seems to have been in comfortable
circumstances, and it is, perhaps, due to his clerkly habits
as a publican, that we owe to him the earliest of the Gospels.
He was the son of one Alpheus, the name of the father of
James the Less. They may, however, have been different

* ^^i^J* persons, as the name was a very common one ; ^ and we
know that there were two Judes, two Simons, and two
called James, in the narrow circle of Jesus.

Doubtless Levi, or Matthew, had shown an interest in
the new Teacher, and had been among the crowds that
thronged Him. The quick eye of Jesus had read his heart,
and seen his sincerity. Though a publican, he was a Jew,
and showed repentance and hopeful trust, which made him
a true son of Abraham. The booth in which, in Oriental
fashion, he sat at his duties, was at the harbour of the town,

CALL OF MATTHEW. 31

on the way to the shore where Jesus was in the habit of ohap.xxxiv.
addressing the throngs who now always followed Him, and it
needed only a look and a word of the Master, to make him
throw up his office, and cast in his lot with Him. At the
command of Jesus he " left all, rose up, and followed Him ;"
not, of course, on the moment, for he would have to take
formal steps to release himself, and would require to settle
his accounts with his superior, before he was free. Hence-
forth, however, he attended Him who soon had not where to
lay His head. It was a critical time for Jesus, and His
admission of a publican as a disciple could not fail to
irritate His enemies still more. But He had no hesitation in
His course. Sent to the lost. He gladly welcomed, to His
inmost circle, one of their number in whom He saw the
germs of true spiritual life, in calm disregard of all the pre-
judices of the time, and all the false religious narrowness of
His fellow countrymen, and their ecclesiastical leaders. He
desired, in the choice of a publican as apostle, to embody
visibly His love for sinners, and show the quickening virtue
of the kingdom of God, even in the most unlikely.

An act so entirely new and revolutionary, in the best
sense, was too momentous in the eyes of Matthew to pass
unnoticed. It was the opening of a new day for the mul-
titudes whom the nairow self-righteousness of the Rabbis
had branded as under the curse of God, and had condemned
as hopeless before Him. The new " call " of Jesus was in
vivid contrast to that of Abraham and Moses, for Abraham
had been separated even from his tribe, and Moses summoned
only the Jews to found the theocracy he proposed to estab-
lish. The " call" which Matthew had obeyed was as infinitely
comprehensive as the earlier ones had been rigidly exclusive.
It showed that aU would be admitted to the society Jesus
was setting up, whatever their social position, if they had
spiritual fitness for membership. Caste was utterly dis-
allowed : before the great Teacher, all men, as such, were
recognized as equally sons of the Heavenly Father. Accus-
tomed from infancy to take this for granted, we cannot
realize the magnitude of the gift this new principle inaugu-
rated, or its astounding novelty. A Brahmin, who should

82 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

cHAP.nxEv. prodaim it in India, and illustrate the social enfranchise-
ment he taught, by raising a despised Pariah to his intimate
intercourse and fnendship, would be the only counterpart we
can imagine at this day.
It was natural, therefore, that Matthew should celebrate

» Luke 5. an event so unique as his calL by a "great feast^^ in his

29 j9. Mark > j o

h^^^k ,, house," in honour of Jesus; and no less so that he should

MaU.9.10— 17. ^ ^ ^ ^'

invite a large number of his class, to rejoice with him at the
new era opened to them, or that He should extend the invi-
tation to his friends of the proscribed classes generally. A
number of persons in bad odour with their more correct fel-
low-citizens were, hence, brought together by him, along with
the publicans of the locality, to do Jesus honour : persons
branded by public opinion as " sinners," a name given indiscri*
minately to usurers, s^amblers, thieves, publicans, shepherds,
« s^,^.. a«d seUers of fruit ^own in ihe sabbatii yeaw.'^ It mighi
have seemed doubtful whether Jesus- would sit down with
such a company, for, even with us, it would be a bold
step for any public teacher to join a gathering of persons in
bad repute. The admission of Matthew to the discipleship
must have seemed to many a great mistake. Nothing could
more certainly damage the prospects of Jesus with the
influential classes, or create a wider or deeper prejudice
and distrust. But nothing weighed for a moment with Him
against truth and right. His soul was filled with a grand
enthusiasm for humanity, and no false or narrow exclu-
siveness of the day could be allowed to stand in its way.
He accepted the invitation with the readiest cheerfulness,
and spent the evening in the pleasures of fiiendly social
intercourse with the strange assembly.

The Rabbis had hardly as yet made up their minds how
to act respecting Him. They had attended John's preaching,
though they did not submit to His baptism, which would
have been to own his sweeping charges against their order,
as a brood of serpents. But Jesus had not as yet attacked
them. He would fisdn have won them, as well as the people,
to the kingdom of God. He had preached this kingdom,
and the need of righteousness : had honoured Moses and the
prophets : had pressed, as His great precepts, the love of

I
\

THE BAB6IS ANt) JESUS. 83

God and our neighbour ; and in all these matters the Pharisees chap, xxxit.

could support Him. He had enforced moderation on His

disciples, and had sought intercourse with the Rabbis, rather

than shunned it. His reply to their earlier opposition was

gentle, though unanswerable. No doubt He knew from the

first that they would reject His overtures, but it Was none

the less right to seek to woo them to friendship, that they

might enter His kingdom if they would.^^ Had they joined »« Matt 9. «, 12;

Him, their influence would have aided His work : if they

refused, He had done His part. He did, indeed, win some.

Here and there a Rabbi humbled himself to follow Him

though He did not belong to the schools, and was the deadly

opponent of their cherished traditions. Others hesitated,

but some even of the leading Pharisees, as at Capernaum,

invited Him to their houses and tables, listened to His

teaching, reasoned modestly with Him, and treated Him,

every way, with respect. He was looked upon by them as

a friend of the nation, and the title of Rabbi was willingly

given Him.^^ •• Matt a 19 ;

But it became clearer, each day, that there could be no Mirk 12. 28.
alliance between views so opposed as His and theirs. Where
action was needed He would not for a moment conceal His
difference from them, and Matthew's feast was an occasion
on which a great principle demanded decisive expression.

To the Rabbis, and the Pharisees at large, nothing could
be more unbecoming and irregular than the presence of
Jesus at Matthew's feast. To be LeviticaUy " clean," was
the supreme necessity of their religious lives. They re-
garded themselves as true friends of their race, and they
were, in fact, the leaders of the nation. But they looked at
men not simply as such, but through the cold superficial
medium of an artificial theology, which dried up their
S3niipathy. Their philanthropy was narrowed to the limits
of Levitical purity. Publicans and sinners, and the mass
of the lower classes, were, to a Pharisee, hopelessly lost,
because of their " uncleanness," and he shrank from all con-
tact with them. He might wish to save, but he dared not
touch, or come near them, and so left them to their misery
and sin. No Pharisee would receive a person as a guest if he

VOL. II. 42

34

THE LIFE 01* CHBIST.

f. 60.

o SchSttgen,
98,276.
Luke 7. 89.
la&lah 66. 6.

« MecfaUta^ f.
37.2.

« Oriiti, 76.
Jost^ 1. 206.

tf JOBt,L805.

CHAP. XXXIV. suspected that he was a '*«inner."^ He would not let one
" s6hM, Qea. Qf ^Yie " Amhaaretz" — the common people — ^touch him.^ It
was unlawful to come into their company, even with the holy
design of inducing them to read the Law,^^ and it was
defilement to take food from them, or, indeed, from any
« sepp, u. m. stranger, or even to touch a knife belonging to them.^
The thousands " unclean " from mere ignorance, or from
their callings, or from carelessness, were an "abomination,"
"vermin," " unclean beasts," and "twice accursed."^ And
as to touch the clothes of one of the "common people,"
defiled every Pharisee alike, the touch of those of a JPha-
risee of a lower grade of Levitical purity defiled one of a
higher. Like the Essenes, one Pharisee avoided the con-
tact of another less strict, and, therefore, of a lower rank of
holiness.^

It must, therefore, liave been as if a Brahmin had out-
raged every idea of Hindoo religion and morals, by sitting'
down at a meal with Sudras, when the Rabbis at Capernaum
saw and heard cff Jesus reclining at table among a promis-
*• Kdm. n. 296. cuous gathering of publicans and sinners.*^
A»rJ?Sid They had not yet, however, come to open controversy
l^i^^a^"" with Him, and contented themselves with contemptuous
SS^^^^ taunts about Him to the disciples, who, as Jews, must have
at least formerly shared the sovereign contempt felt for
such hated social outcasts. Even to hold a religious service
with them would have been a breach of the Law, but to join
them on a footing of friendly intercourse I " Founder of a
new holy kingdom of God, and recline at table with
publicans and sinners 1 "» How keenly such words must have
wounded men like Peter, and the small knot of disciples as
yet round Jesus, may be imagined. They had been taught
in the school of the Baptist,, an earnest Jew, who had
enforced ultra-Pharisaic Judaism. The early scruples of
Peter survived even to apostolic times.^^ James was a
Nazarite, if we can trust tradition, till his death,^ and even
Matthew, the priestly publican, for his name Levi shows him
to have been of priestly race, is said to have eaten, through life,
only fruit, vegetables, and bread, but no flesh.*^ In their
perplexity and distress they appealed to Jesus.

Buztorf,
U46.

«' 0*1.9.11.
Acts 10. 9.

<s Olement,
F»dji«.il.l.

THE QREAT PHYSICIAK. 85

It was well they did so, for their distress procured for all ohap.xxxiv.
ages an answer of divine sweetness and grandeur. "To
whom should I go but to such as these ? The whole have
no need of a physician, but they that are sick.^ Turn to the
prophets whom you revere, and think what the words of
Hosea mean *^ ' I desire mercy ^ and not sacrifice,' — acts rather • Hose* & «.

- •' Matt 9.11— 14.

than oflFerings — ^practical godliness, not legal forms — divine JJsJIiSlJi
sympathy with the lost, rather than only the empty show
of outward worship — ^for I have not come to call the
righteous, but to call sinners to repentance. I expect
nothing from men who think they are righteous and despise
others.^^ They feel no need of me. My help is needed * Lnko la. ».
for just such ^sinners' as they would have me leave to ^^^JJ^^
perish." "•«**

Jesus had not, of course, the bodily sick in His thoughts.
He spoke of the mass of the people of the middle and lower
ranks, too sadly marked by reli^ous shortcomings and
unworthiness. The guests at Matthew's table were, doubt-
less, more or less open to accusations of covetousness,
impurity, indiflPerence to morality and religion, and trouble-
someness as citizens. John would have kept himself aloof
from them, unless they came as penitents, for baptism. He
had lived in wildernesses, apart from men, shrinking from the
turmoil of the great world. He had even forbidden lawful
enjoyments and pleasures. He had sought to build up the
Kingdom of Heaven on the lonely banks of the Jordan,
far from men, by sternly commanding the broken hearts
that sought peace and consolation from him, to live lives
of Jewish austerity and repentance. Jesus required a
change of heart no less than he, but He did not lead men
out of the world to secure it, or burden life with the anxiety ,
and disquiet of an outward purity.

He came trustfully to them into their little world, bringing
with Him a heart full of divine benevolence and tender gentle-
ness. In- His eyes they were "sick," and He treated them
like a true physician, entering into all their interests, sym-
pathizing with their cares and sorrows, realizing their special
wants, and bearing Himself as a friend among friends. They
were men, and, as such, capable of sorrow for sin, and eflForts

36 THE LIFE OP CHRIST.

C3HAP. XXXIV. towards a nobler life. They had hearts to recognize good-
ness, and might thus be won to faith in Himself, as the ideal of
the highest spiritual life. Nothing can mark the grandeur of
His enthusiasm for humanity, more than that He thus proposed
to lay the foundation of His kingdom in a class on which
the priests and theologians, and the higher ranks of the day,
looked down wi*h haughty contempt and moral aversion. It
shows how deeply He looked into things, that He recognized
the greater openness for the Truth, of castes thus discredited ;
their franker and more decisive bearing towards the startling
innovations of His teaching ; their deeper longing for peace of
conscience and reconciliation to God. It was the sense of
this that had led to the choice of His first disciples from
the ranks of the people ; and it was this, in part, that led to
that of Matthew. In his case, however, there was, also, the
proclamation of His indiflPerence to outward distinctions, or
rules, afterwards formulated by Peter, who had never for-
gotten the lesson, into the memorable words — " Of a truth
I perceive that God is no respecter of persons, but, in every
nation, he that feareth Him, and worketh righteousness, is

•»Aotoio.»6. accepted of Him."^^ A truth evident enough to-day, but
carrying with it, when inaugurated by Jesus, an entire
revolution in the religious history of mankind.

The divine charity that ran so counter to the narrow pride
of the Rabbis was no less startling to the disciples of John,
but there were other difficulties to both. No open breach
had yet taken place, and a friendly conference might explain
much. Jesus had silently left the harsh discipline of fasting
behind, and had prescribed no formal rules for prayer,^ such
as were common to the Rabbis and their disciples, and to
those of the Baptist; and now a deputation came to ask
Him for an explanation."* The law of Moses had appointed
only one fast in the year, on the Day of Atonement, but the
Rabbis had added many, both public and private. They
enjoined one for the destruction of Jerusalem bythe Chal-
deans, and others for various incidents connected with
the siege, or the troubles of the first period after the Cap-
tivity. There was another to lament the day on which the
translation of the Scriptures into Greek had been finished,

JEWISH IDEAS OF PRATBB. • 37

and every public calamity or emergency was signalized by ohap.xxxiv.
a fast specially enjoined by the authorities. It was rather
to private fasts, however, that allusion was made. Strict
Pharisees, aiming at the highest degree of merit, fasted
voluntarily every Monday and Thursday, to commemorate,
respectively, the going up of Moses to the Mount on the
fifth day, to receive the renewed tables of the Commandments,
and his descent on the second. They often added other
fasts,*^ to have lucky dreams, and to obtain their interpre- « I^Jg^. '^^
tation, for, like the Essenes, the Pharisees looked on fasts j^htriSi.
as a preparation for receiving revelations. They fasted also *** "^
to avert evil, or to procure some good. Mortification and
self-infliction had become a formal religious merit, in the
mercenary theology of the day, and was paraded before the
world by some, to heighten their reputation for holiness.^^ » Mwt. «. la.
The idea had, 'at first, risen from a fancied opposition be-
tween the body and the soul ; as if the latter could only
be duly raised by depressing the former. But asceticism
was* contrary to the genius of the new kingdom of God,
which laid no stress on meat, or drink, or abstinence from
them, but on " righteousness, peace, and joy, in the Holy

Ghost. " ^ »« Bom. 14. 17.

Even prayer had been reduced to a mechanical system, as
part of " the hedge of the Law," invented by the Eabbis.
No one could lay greater stress on it than Jesus, when of-
fered as the utterance of contrite humility ; but, as a part of
a system of merit like the Rabbinical theology of the day.
He held it lightly. No precepts could be more worthy
than many found, even yet, in the Rabbis, respecting the
true worth of prayer f but, in practice, these higher teachings
had fallen into wide disuse. It had come to be tedious for
length, and abounded in repetitions.^ Fixed rules for cor- « ofrtRir, it
rect prayer were taught, with fixed hours, and prescribed M»tt.«.7.
forms, and superstitious power was assigned to the mere
words. The householder was to repeat the Sch'ma in his
house each evening, to drive away evil spirits. To say it
when in bed was like grasping a two-edged sword, to slay
the assaulting demons.^® The mere form of prayer, if re- • ^^f^
peated rightly and often, was counted as merit laid up in fS^^'

38 THE UFB OF CHRIST.

cxBAP. 3CXXIV. heaven. To repeat the Sch'ma was, in fact, in the phrase
of the Rabbis, "to make the kingdom of Heaven one's

»Gfrtr«r.lL OWn." ^^
148.

It could not be doubtful how Jesus would bear Himself
to views so opposed to inner and spiritual religion. Silently
omitting any reference to the objection respecting prayer,
He addressed Himself to the question of fasting. " His pre-
sence with Hb disciples was Uke that of a bridegroom with
« winar.TQie, His compauious, duriug the marriage rejoicings.^® Could
foot, iL 171. He ask them to fast while He was with them ? It would be

MAtt9 .15—17.

SSMtw.' ti^^ f^r them to do so when He was taken away from them.
They would fast then 1" Seizing the opportunity, and ad-
dressing the disciples of John especially, He went even
further. " Johi> had sought to do what was worse than
hopeless — to renew the old theocracy, by merely external
reform ; to patch up the old and torn robe of Judaism, and
make it serve a new age. It was as vain as a man's sewing
a piece of raw unteazled cloth on the rent of an old gar-
ment ; the patch could only tear off so much more, -and
make the rent worse, while the patch would itself be a
mere shred. Or, it was like putting new wine into old
skins, which must burst when the wine fermented.^ New
teaching, like His, must be put into new bottles ; the forms
and rites that had served till now were of no more use : a
. new dispensation had come, which these forms would only
» wbd Lex. cumber.*^ New forms were needed for the new religious

Sh?iei,«. life He came to introduce."

John the Words so fatal to cherished preiudices must have struck

Bftpti8t,4U. TT 1 -I

B^am«h,i. dcep, but thc hearts He had unavoidably woimded were not
left without tender soothing. *' It was no wonder that John
had clung to the faith of his fathers, even in its outward
accidents. He had drunk of the old wine, and would not
change it for new, contented to know that * the old was
good.' " Henceforth, however, the position of Jesus to the
worn-out forms of the past was unmistakable. He had
chosen His path, and would lead mankind from the bondage
of the letter to the freedom of the spirit, and the worshippers
of the letter arrayed themselves against Him. As became
the founder of the first religion of the spirit alone, the world

BEWABDS OF THE KINGDOM. 39

had seen, He henceforth silently ignored the ceremonial ohap. smv.
law, avoiding open condemnation, but bearing Himself
towards it throughout, as He did in the matter of circumci-
sion, which He never enforced on His disciples, or demanded
from believing heathen, and never commended, though He
never, in words, condemned it The whole ritual system, of
which it was the most prominent feature, was treated as
merely indiflFerent.^ • soiusnkei, as.

It was indescribably touching to see, at the very threshold
of our Lord*s public life, that even when He uses so joyous
an image of Himself as that of a bridegroom. He dashes-
in the picture with shadow. He had begun His course
by the Temptation, but from it till the close. His path
lay through struggle, suflFering, and self-sacrifice, to a far
other glory than that which the world expected in the
Messiah. He would, indeed, have known His nation, and
their Roman masters ; the dominant Pharisees, and the priest-
hood, badly, not to have foreseen, from the first, that He
would have to pass through the fiercest conflict, only to
reach a tragic end. Thoughts of self-denial, self-sacrifice,
even to the surrender of life ; of losing life that He might
gain it ; of the com dying that it might bring forth fruit, run
like a dark thread through all His discourses, to the very end.
He sends His apostles forth like sheep amongst wolves ; fore-
tells their suffering the bitterest persecution ; and consoles
them only with the one thought that it should content the
disciple to be on the same footing with Himself.^^ In the « vmit lo.
sermon on the Mount, He predicts that all who believe on Him
will suffer hatred and evil treatment.^^ He recognizes those « !!»«.«. lo-m
only as His true followers who, denying themselves, take
up His cross and bear it.^ He has nothing: to promise His « ]iaTka84,u

,f.-- - _ ,iTi ,.. Matt 10. 88, 881

disciples but that they should be servants, submitting

patiently to the extremest wrong, and has no higher vision

even for Himself.^ He may rejoice as the bridegroom with •• iratt.iLi&

His friends, for a time, but will soon be taken away from

them.^ A kingdom founded on such a basis of deliberate « uii]iuuui,u9.

self-denial and self-sacrifice, is unique in the history of the

world.

40

THE UFB OF CHRIST*

OHAP. XZXV.

1 HaALSl
Lnke^ie.

t Murk 8. n.
Matt 11. 24.
Luke 11. 1^
Mark 6. 1.
Luke 4 29.

• Marie 8. 18.

Matt. 6. h
Lake 18. 20.
Matt 16.1;
22.9.
Mark 3. L

CHAPTER XXXV.

THE CHOICE OF THE TWELVE, AND THE SERMON ON THE

MOUNT.

HOW long JesuB remained at Capernaum is not told us,
but we may readily believe that He was glad to leave
it, with its gathering opposition, as soon as possible. It
was His centre of action, but the kingdom needed to be
proclaimed over the whole land. Preaching was the special
agency on which He relied, far more than on any displays
of supernatural power. It was by it He designed to work
the stupendous spiritual miracle of the new birth of
Israel and of Humanity. As the first founder of a religion
which had no code of laws, and repudiated force, addressing
itself solely to the free convictions of men, the living word
and its illustration in His own life, were alone open to
Him as means for its diffiision. The hearts and souls must
be won over to the highest truth, by persuading the con-
science, and thus influencing the "will. In these earlier
months He took advantage of the facilities of the Synagogue
service, to gain the ear of the people, but His preaching
was very diflPerent from the stereotyped lifelessness of the
Rabbis, and excited universal astonishment by its originality,
power, and resistless enthusiasm.^ At a later time, when
His "new doctrine" had roused the opposition of the
authorities, the use of the synagogues was no longer per-
mitted Him.^ But, even from the first, He did not confine
Himself to fixed times or places. He addressed the people
on the shores of the lake, on the lonely slopes and valleys
of the hills, in the streets and market-places of towns and
villages, at the crossing points of the public roads, and even
in houses;® any place, indeed, that offered an audience,
was alike to Him. The burden and spirit of His preaching

THE KING OF THE NEW THEOCRACY. 41

may be gathered from the Gospels throughout. He pro- oharxxxv.
claimed Himself the Good Shepherd seeking to bring back
the lost sheep to the heavenly fold ; to quicken and turn
towards God the weak, sinful human will, and to breathe
into the soul aspirations after a higher spiritual life, from the
fullness of His own perfect example.* * BibeiLer.ii.

To win all. He moved as a man among men, a friend
among friends ; a helper amongst all who needed help,
declining every outward honour or flattery, or even the
appearance of either.^ While advancing the most amazing* Mwrkian.
pretensions as His kingly prerogative, He was, personally,
so meek and lowly that He could make this gentle humility
a ground for the trust and unembarrassed approach of all
who were troubled. Content with obscurity, and leaving
to others the struggle for distinction or place. He chose a
life so humble that the poorest had no awe of His dignity,
but gathered round Him as their special friend. His tastes
were in keeping with this simplicity, for He delighted in
the society of the lowly, and children clustered in His steps
with the natural instinct that detects one who loves them.
He was never engrossed by His own affairs, but ever ready
to give Himself up to those of others — to counsel them in
difficulties, to sympathize with them in their sorrows or joys,
and to relieve their sickness or wants.^ It is His grand pecu- • gweHomo,
liarity, that there is a total oblivion of self in His whole life.
The enthusiasm of a divine love, in the pure light of which
no selfish thought could live, filled His whole soul. He
showed abiding sympathy for human weakness,^ and to^Markiiaa.
cheer the outcast and hopeless. He announced that He came
to seek such as to others seemed lost. In His joy over a
sinner won back to righteousness He hears even the angels
of God rejoicing.

There had never appeared in any age such a man, such a
friend, or such a helper. He seemed the contrast of a king
or prince, and yet all His words were kingly ; aU His acts
a succession of the kingliest deeds, decisions, and commands,
and His whole public life, the silent and yet truest founda-
tion of an everlasting kingdom. He must, indeed, have
seemed anything rather than the foimder of a new society.

42 THE UFA OF CHBIST.

oHAP.xny. or of a new empire, and it must have startled men when
they found that He had, by His works and life, established
in the midst of the old theocracy the framework of the most
imperishable and the widest-reaching empire this earth haa
ever seen ; an empire before which all former religious
systems were to fade away. But though His absolute self-
control was never intermitted, there were times when the
claims of the truth, or the service of His kingdom, brought
out the full grandeur of His power and kingly greatness.
It was thus when He had to meet and confute prejudice and
error, or to heal the sick and diseased. At times we shall
see Him forced to blame and condemn, but this wa9 only a
passing shadow on the clear heaven of His unvar}dng grace
and love. It is impossible to realize such an appearance,
but we can imagine it in some measure. The stainless
truth and uprightness which filled His whole nature ; the
exhaustless love and pity, which were the very breath of
His spirit ; the radiant joy of the bridegroom wedding
redeemed humanity ; the calm light as of other worlds in
His every look, may well account for the deathless love
and devotion He inspired in those whom He suffered to

« Bwaid, follow Him.®
▼.8o«.»o7. The widening success of His work had already required
an addition to the small circle of His immediate attendants.
But a single accession, like that of Matthew, was, erelong,
not enough. It soon became necessary to select a larger
number who might be constantly in His company, and
receive His instructions, that they might, in due time, go
forth to proclaim the kingdom over a wider area than He
could Himself reach. Its laws, its morality, its relations to
the Old Dispensation, must be taught them, and they must
catch His enthusiasm by such a lengthened intercourse in

» Ewiod, T.404. the familiarity of private life, as would kindle ^ in their souls
the ideal He presented. That they should follow Him at all
would be left to themselves, but the choice would be made

w Mark 8. 18. by Himsclf,^^ of such as, on various grounds. He saw fittest.

" LDkee.i& Tliey were to be Apostles,^^ or missionaries, and would
have, for their high commission, the organization of the new
kingdom of God, first in Israel, and then through the world.

8INCEBITT DEMANDED. 48

To accept such an invitation implied no little enthusiasm, oharxxxv
No earthly reward was held out, but, on the contrary, the
sacrifice of aU personal claims wa^ demanded. They were
to abandon their former calling, whatever it might be, with
all its present or prospective advantages, to give up all family
ties, to bear the worst indignities and ill-treatment, and yet
repress even just resentment They were to hold their
lives at His service, and willingly yield them, if it required
the sacrifice.^ A measure of self-restriction is implied as^BweHomo,
the basis of any state, for no society could flourish where
its interests, as a whole, are not spontaneously considered
before those of the individual citizen. But the self-abnegation
required by Jesus in those admitted to that which He was
now founding, was without a parallel, for while earthly
states return an equivalent, iu: many ways, for the self-
surrender they impose. He proclaimed from the first that
those who joined His kingdom must do so "hoping for
nothing again" to compensate for any self-sacrifice, even the
greatest. In the case of the " Apostles," the self-surrender
was not merely contingent, but present and final, for He held
before them no prospect through life but privation and
persecution, and even possible martyrdom. In the next
world, indeed, He promised rewards, but He precluded mere
mercenary hopes even of these, by making them conditional
on unfeigned sincerity in the obedience to His laws and
love of His person. The mere hypocrite — or actor — could
have no object in joining Him, and was indignantly de-
nounced. The truest honesty in word and deed were alone
accepted, and the want of it, in any degree, was the one

fatal moral defect^ « Eooe Homo,

. . It is not surprising, therefore, that all who offered them- "*•
selves as His followers were not accepted. Where He saw
unfitness, he repelled advances. To a Rabbi who came
saluting Him as "Teacher," and professing his willingness
to follow Him as His disciple. He returned the discouraging
answer, that the foxes had holes, and the birds of the air
nests, but the Son of Man — the Messiah* — had not where to
lay His head.^* It might have seemed of moment to secure " M»tt & w.
the support of a Rabbi, but Jesus had seen the worldly bent

44 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

oHARxxxv. of his thoughts, and thus turned him aside, by blasting any
hopes of advantage or honour in joining Him. Even in-
decision or hesitation, whatever the ground, was fatal to
admittance to His favour. The request of a disciple to go
first and bury his father, before finally following Him, was
only met by the command to follow Him at once, and leave
the spiritually dead to bury the corporeally dead : to put off
decision, even for so worthy a cause as desire to perform
the last offices to a father, was dangerous 1 " Go, thou, and

tf lake a 60. preach the kingdom of God."^^ The devotion due to it,
unreservedly, could not be shared, even by the claims of affec-
tion and earthly duties." A request to be allowed to bid his
household farewell, before finally leaving them, was met by
a similar answer — "No man having put his hand to the

MLDke9.e2. plough, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God."^^
The indispensable condition of admittance into the inner
circle who followed and lived with Him, was an engrossing
enthusiasm for Himself and His work, which permitted

w Bw»M,T.wi. concern for no second interest whatever. ^^

He had determined to surround Himself with a small body
of such trustworthy followers, limiting the number, by an
association natural to His race, to twelve. They were to
form the closest, inmost circle of His disciples, and to be,
in fact. His friends and companions. He would give them
His fullest confidence : open His mind to them more fully
than to others : and, by living among them, inspire them
with His own fervour, and mould them to His own likeness.
They would see how His soul never unbent from its grand
enthusiasm : how He never wearied in His transcendent
devotion of body and spirit to His work. In seeing and
hearing Him, they would gain experience : in the opposition
and trials they met in His company, their fidelity would be
put to the test, and, in the end, they would be qualified for
the special work for which they had been chosen — to be
sent forth to preach, and to repeat the miraculous works

M Marks. 14. of their Master, as evidence of His divine authority. ^^

It is not stated definitely where the selection of the
Apostles was made. His preaching had already gained a

» |j£jg£itio " gr^^* multitude "^^ of disciples, who followed Him in His

uid th6
Yfttloaii MSS.

CHOICE OF APOSTLES. 45

journey from town to town, along with a vast crowd drawn ohap.xxxv.
after Him by various motives. The movement was rapidly
assuming an importance like that of John's ; it was extend-
ing over the nation. Withdrawing Himself, as was His
frequent custom, from the throng, by night, He retired once
more into the hills to pray, and continued in devotion till
morning.*^ Brought up among hills, He was ever fond of » Lake 6.1s.
their solitude, their pure air and open sky, which seemed to
bring Him nearer His Father. It was somewhere, apparently,
in the hilly background of the Sea of Gralilee, for though
spoken of ^ " the mountain," there are no means of deciding
the precise locality. When the day broke, instead of seeking
rest. He showed the subject of His night-long communion
with His Heavenly Father, by proceeding to select His
future Apostles. The crowd of His disciples had returned
with the new day, from the neighbouring towns and villages
where they had spent the night, when Jesus, coming down
from His sohtary devotions, gathered them once more round
Him, and " calling to Him whom He Himself would,"
'' appointed twelve, that they might be with Him, and that
He should send them forth to preach — ^to heal sicknesses, and

to cast out devils." ^^ a Marks. ia,14.

His choice was necessarily made from a comparatively
small number, for the majority must have lately joined
Him, and must thus have been, as yet, little known.^^ So « 8dhenkei.7«.
far as possible He made His selection from those who had
been longest with Him, and whom He had, in some measure,
proved; but they were as a whole, simple, unlearned, plastic
men of the people, for Jesus had already seen that the
spiritual regeneration of Israel must rise from the humbler
classes.^^ He knew that the educated men of the nation, the » Matt u. m.
Rabbis and priests, were perverted and prejudiced, and He ApoeteL
could not look to the officials or authorities of any grade, or
to the prevailing religious schools. The commonalty were
sounder, freer from the errors of the age, — more open to the
eternal truths He came to announce, and more ready to
accept the spiritual kingdom He came to found.^* Yet, it ^ ebm, 14a
may be, that had the choice been wider, some one might have
been available from the trained intellects of the nation, with

46 THE MFB OF CHRIST.

oHAPjcxxv. results it would be vain to conjecture. Had Paul been one
of the twelve, now chosen by Christ, how much might the
genius, the Rabbinical training, the breadth of mind, and
the grand loving enthusiasm which almost founded Western
Christianity, have changed, in the history told by the
Gospels ? He laid no stress on their former social position,
or religious party, for they included, on the one side, a pub-
lican, who was also a Levite, and on the other, one who had
belonged to the ultra-puritan zealots, the fanatical party of
Judas the GralilsBan. Nor did He require them to be unmar-
ried, for Peter, we know, had a wife, and if w§ may trust
the tradition of the Armenian Church, the only Apostles

» Ei»id,T.8w. who were single were the sons of Zebedee,^ and Thomas.^
The Capernaum circle yielded Him no fewer than seven of
the twelve, — Peter, and his brother Andrew, who lived with
him ; two sons from the house of Zabdai, — James and John ;
two sons of Alphasus,® — James the Little, and Jude, who is
commonly distinguished as Lebbeeus, the stout-hearted, — or

"HSLik^ ThaddflBus, the brave.^^ The publican Matthew was also
from Capernaum, and was the third from the household of
Alphaeus, if the name refer to the father of James the Little
and Jude; and Philip belonged to the village of Bethsaida in
its immediate neighbourhood, making in all, eight of the
twelve, virtually from the same favoured place. Of the
remaining four, Nathanael, the son of Talmai, the Bar-
tholomew of our version, was from Cana, on the north side
of the plain of El Battauf, on which Jesus had so often
looked down from the Nazareth hill-top. Thomas — ^ready to
die, but slow to believe : manly and full of grave tenderness,

w DW5 (ttam), ft — whose Hcbrcw name ^ was sometimes turned into the

(tcmil), Greek equivalent Didymus, the twin, — was the same person,

Didi!SJi-« — one tradition says, — as Judas, the brother of Jesus, as

if Mary had had a double birth, after bearing her eldest

"2J"***5.^*» son.^® If so, one of the household amonffst whom Our
Saviour had grown up, one son of His mother, redeemed
the general coldness of the rest. The name of Simon the
Zealot, another Galilaean, and that of the only Apostle

■ rVrp »•« from Judea, — Judas, the traitor, of the village of Kerioth,^*
the mftn of * in thc south of Juda-— close the list.

j Kerioth.

SAINT PETER 47

Sucli was tlie band which Jesus now gathered round Him. ohap.
At least four, — James and John, and James the Little and
Jude, — seem to have been His relations, or connections, to
whom, if we accept the tradition I have quoted, we must
add Thomas.^ One, at least, was of priestly race, — the
degenerate Levite, Matthew, who had sunk to an office held so
utterly infamous as a publican's. He and the sons of Zebedee
seem to have been in a fair position, but Peter, whom we
see in the forty days after the Resurrection, once more busy
as a fisherman, in his boat on the Lake of Galilee ; naked,
perhaps literally, as the fishermen there still often are,® that
he might the better, like them, drag the net after him
through the water, as he swam with it ; or casting his fisher's
coat round him, and leaping into the Lake to swim ashore
to Jesus,*^ is, it may be, a fair illustration of the social » Joim «. 7.
position of most of His brethren in the Apostolate.

In the lists given in the Gospels, Peter, the host of His
Lord, at Capernaum, always holds the first place, but there
are variations in the order assigned to others. A true Gali-
laean — Peter was energetic and fiery, rather than self-con-
tained and reflective. Warm-hearted and impulsive, he had at
once the strength and weakness of such a temperament. He
is always the first to speak for his brethren ; he craves ear-
nestly one moment what he as earnestly refused the moment
before ; he is the first to draw the sword for Jesus, but also
the first to deny Him. John recognizes his risen Master first
at the Lake of Galilee, but Peter throws himself forthwith
into the Lake, and is the first to reach Jesus' feet ; he acts
on the moment, and has even to be rebuked for being too
ready with his counsel. Though for a moment he denies
Christ, a look melts him, and tradition only fills up what we
feel a true picture, when it tells us that he rose each night,
through life, at the hour at which he had sinned so weakly,
to pray for forgiveness ; or when it speaks of him, at last, as
crucified with his head downwards, thinking himself un-
worthy of a nearer approach to the death of his Lord.

In Peter, Jesus had an apostle who gave up his whole
being to his Master. No one was more receptive of lofty
impressions, and with this moral sensibility, there was a

48 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

OHAP.xxxv. ready, quick, happy insight, which divined the significance
of his Master's words with swift intelligence. Yet, with this
delicacy of forecast, and true conception of the inner and
the expressed thoughts of Jesus ; with his quick eye for the
signs of the times, and his zeal to act on their indications,
he was deficient in sharp logical power of thought, and in
tenacious strength of wilL In this combination of strength
and weakness, he was the most perfect type of the Galilaean
in the Apostolate, and became a special friend of Jesua,
who found in him the most enthusiastic of His followers ;
the reflection, in some respects, of His own nature, and a
heart than which none beat truer, though in the most decisive
moments he proved no firm support, but a bending reed, weak

« Keiin,ii.8n. from momentary trust in himself rather than on his Lord.^^

Beyaolds' *'

Jj^^j^ James and John, the sons of Zabdai, were men of a
8oEaokei,7& (jijgpgrent mould. They supplied what was wanting in Peter.
Ready to accept the new ideas, and reproducing them for
themselves, with mingled enthusiasm and freshness of
conception, they had the same intense devotion to their
Master as Peter, with something, at times, of the same art-
less and unconscious self-prominence. Their energy of will,
and quick flaming up at any opposition, were marked features
of both, and obtained for them, from Jesus, the name of
"the Sons of Thunder." In their zeal for their Master
they would have called down judgment from heaven
against an inhospitable village, and wished to silence an
unknown worker who spoke in the name of Christ, without
belonging to the twelve. In James, the Apostles had their
first martyr, but John lived to be the last survivor of them
all. Hot zeal, based on intense devotion, was, however,
only a passing characteristic, at least of John. He, of all
the twelve, drank deepest into his Masters Spirit, and
realized it most. Self-contained, meditative, tender, he
thought less of Christ's acts, than of the words which were
the revelations of His inner Being. His whole spiritual
nature gave itself up to loving contemplation of the won-
drous life passing before him. We owe to him, in his Gospel,
an image of the higher nature of our Lord, such as only one to
whom He was all in all could have painted. If perfect love

THE APOSTLES.

49

V Beynold8,81.
Schenkel, 96.
BeEum.
L*Anteohri8t,
848.

Nork, 117.
Hue, 149.
Ewald, T. 339.

beget love in return, it was inevitable that John should win ohap.xxxv.
the supreme place in Christ's affection. If the disciple
leaned on the Master's bosom, it was because he had shown
the love that at the last brought him, alone, of the twelve,
to the foot of the Cross.^^

Of Andrew, the brother of Peter, we know very little.
We have to trust to tradition, alone, for his history, after
Christ's death. He is said, by one legend, to have gone
among the Scythians, and, on this ground, the Russians have
made him their national Saint. Another assigns Greece,
and afterwards Asia Minor and Thrace, as the scene of his
work, and speaks of him as put to death in Achaia, on a
cross of the form since known by his name. The incidental
notices of the others, in the Gospels, are very slight, and need
not be anticipated. Philip is said, in the ecclesiastical
legends, to have been a chariot driver; Bartholomew, a shep-
herd, or gardener. But no name is more striking in the list
than that of Simon the Zealot,' for to none of the twelve
could the contrast be so vivid between their former and their
new portion. What revolution of thought and heart could
be greater than that which had thus changed into a follower
of Jesus one of the fierce war party of the day, which
looked on the presence of Rome in the Holy Land as treason
against the Majesty of Jehovah — a party who were fanatical
in their Jewish strictness and exclusiveness ? Like many
others of the twelve, he is little more than a name. Indeed,
even in the second century, the vaguest traditions were all
that survived of any but two or three of them. They were
men of no high commanding powers, to make their names
rise on all men's tongues, but they, doubtless, in every case
but that of the betrayer, did their work faithfully, and
effected results of permanent value in the spread of the
Kingdom. Still more, they displayed before the world, for
the first time, the then amazing spectacle and teaching of a
Christian life. That we know so little of men who were such
signal benefactors of the race, is only what we have to ponder
in the cases of those to whom the world has owed most.^ » S^^'^^y
It is the law, in the moral as in the physical world, that one
sows and another reaps, and the seed which bears the golden

VOL. IL 43

SonnonSi

50 thb: lqtb of chbist.

oHARzxzv. ears has long died away unremembered, before the gather-
ing of the autumn sheaves.

It is touching to think of Jesus surrounded by the little
band He had thus chosen — simple, true-hearted men, indeed,
but needing so much to fit them for their amazing honour,
and momentous duties. No wonder they were timid and
•4 ifkti 16. 7. reverent before Him i^ no wonder that He was so sorely tried
«^6. * with their dull apprehension and weak human short-
comingSj as to speak sternly or sadly to them at times ; once
indeed, with the words, " 0 unbelieving generation, how
long shall I be with you, how long shall I suffer you? "*
He calls them "of little understanding," "hardened,"
M iuA4i8,40; " fcarfuL" " worldly," and " of little faith."^^ But amidst aU,
Ssi; io^'m* *^®y " continued with Him in His trials "^^ till the end, and
•• l^"m m!^ "^^ forgot their failings in the tender thought, that if their
flesh was weak, their spirit was willing. They were His
r Matt «.4o. "brcthren,"^^ His "servants," His "fellow-workers," His. "little
Mjjtt. w. w. children," His " little ones," and, even, as the end approached,
j^hniMijifi. " His fnenda" He might, at times, have to reprove them,
but His bearing towards them, day by day, was a loving con-
descension to their weakness, and a patient effort to draw
them to Himself, as far as possible. There is no trace of such
formal instruction as the Rabbis gave their followers ; they
had rather to listen to His words to the people, and ask Him
■ iita*7.i7. in private for explan9.tion where needed.'®. He rather trained
and developed their spiritual character, than indoctrinated
»MWtio.8«. them in systematic theology.®^ Above all, He lived before
them, and was Himself their great lesson. Nor can there be a
more striking illustration of the completeness with which
they forgot their own being in the presence of their Master,
than the silence of the writers of the Gospels respecting
themselves in their records of Jesus. He, alone, filled their
eye, their thoughts, their hearts. They had been like -children
before Him, while He was with them, and in the hallowed
reverence of their remembered intercourse. His image filled
the whole retrospect, to the utter subordination of all things
else. The months they had spent in His company under
the palm-trees, or on the hiUs, or by the sea ; when they
breathed the same air with Him ; heard His voice ; saw

SCENE 07 THE HIIIrSERMON. 51

His life ; and wondered at His mighty acts,— raised them, ohap.xxxv
in their own belief, above the prophets and the kings, who had
longed for such a vision of the Messiah, but had not had it
vouchsafed them.^ « Luke lo. 24.

Of the preaching of Jesus, the Grospel preserves numerous
fragments, but no lengthened abstract of any single dis-
course, except that of the "Sermon on the Mount" It
seems to have been delivered inmiediately after the choice
of the twelve, to the disciples at large and the multitude
who thronged to hear the new Rabbi. Descending from the
higher point to which He had called up His Apostles, He
came towards the crowd, which waited for Him at a level
place below.*^ There were numbers from every part — from^" loim 6. 17.
Judea and Jerusalem in the south, and even from the sea-
coast of Tyre and Sidon ; some to hear Him, others to be
cured of their diseases, and many to be delivered from
unclean spirits. The commotion and excitement were great
at His appearance, for it had been found that to touch
Him was to be cured, and, hence, all sought, either by
their own efforts, or with the help of friends, to get near
enough to Him to do so. After a time, however, the tumult
was stayed, all having been healed, and He proceeded, before
they broke up, to care for their spiritual, as He had already
for their physical wants.

Tradition has chosen the hill known as the "Horns of
Hattin,"*^ two hom-like heights, rising sixty feet above the« ^nivaBn^
plain between them — two hours west of Tiberias, at the 5f?L^?^,

X 7 toe scene. Die

mouth of the gorge which opens, past Magdala, into the E^SiSlfS72.
wild cliflfe of Arbela, famous in the history of the Zealots as •
their hiding-plaee, and famous also for Herod's battles in
mid-air at the mouths of their caves, by means of great cages
filled with soldiers let down the precipices. It is greatly in
favour of this site, to find such a writer as Dean Stanley
saying, that the situation so strikingly coincides with the
intimations of the Gospel narrative, as almost to force the
inference, that, in this instance, the eye of those who selected
the spot was rightly guided.^ ^ The plain on which the « S^^^
hill stands is easily accessible from the Lake, and it is only
a few minutes' walk from it to the summit, before reaching

52 THE LIFE OF CHBI6T.

CHAP. XXXV. which, a broad " level place " has to be crossed— exactly
suited for the gathering of a multitude together. It was to
this, apparently, that Jesus came down, from one of the
higher horns, to address the people. Seated on some slightly

44 MataooidM; elcvatcd rock — ^for the teacher always sat while he taught*^'—

^orkpcxdu. the people and the disciples sitting at His feet, on the

grass ; the cloudless Syrian sky over them ; the blue Lake,

with its moving life, on the one hand, and, in the far north,

the grand form of Hermon, glittering in the upper air ; He

u Ti^rtiicfc began what is to us the Magna Charta^ of our faith, and to
*• ^ the hearers must have been the formal inauguration of the
new kingdom of God.

The choice of the twelve Apostles and the Sermon on the
Mount mark a turning point in the public life of Jesus. A
crisis in the development of His work had arrived. He had,
till now, taken no steps towards a formal and open separation
from Judaism, but had contented Himself with gathering
converts, whom He left to follow the new life He taught,
without any organization as a distinct communion. The
symptoms of an approaching rupture with the priests and
Eabbis had, however, forced on Him more decisive action.
He had met the murmurs at the healing of the paralytic, by
the triumphant vindication of the language which had given
offence. The choice of a publican as a disciple immediately
after, had been a further expression of the fundamental
opposition between His ideas and those of the schools and
the Temple, and His justification of the disuse by His
disciples, of the outward rites and forms which were vital in
the eyes of the orthodoxy of the day, had been another step
in the same divergent path. He had openly sanctioned
the omission of fasts, and of mechanical rules for prayer,*
which were sacred with the Rabbis. He had even set the
old and new order of things in contrast, and had thus
assumed independent authority as a religious teacher ; the
sum of all offence in a rigid theocracy.

The choice of the twelve, and the Sermon on the Mount,
were the final and distinct proclamation of His new position.
The Apostles must have seemed, to a Jew, the twelve
patriarchs of a new spiritual Israel, to be substituted for the

THE AUDIBNCT. ^ 58

old; the heads of new tribes, to be gathered by their ohap. xxxv.

teaching, as the future people of God. The old skins had

been proved unfit for the new wine ; henceforth, new skins

must be provided ; new forms, for a new faith. The society

thus organized needed a promulgation of the laws under

which it was to live, and this it received in the Sermon on

the Mount.

The audience addressed consisted of the newly chosen
twelve ; the unknown crowd who heard Him, with favour,
and were, hence, spoken of as His disciples;*^ and the <• Grodaa, on
promiscuous multitude drawn to Him, for the time, by
various motives. Jesus had no outer and inner circle, for
public and secret doctrines, like the Rabbis, for, though He
explained to the twelve, in private, any points in His dis-
courses they had not understood, the discourses themselves
were delivered to all who came to hear them. This Sermon,
which is the fullest statement we have of the nature of His
kingdom, and of the condition and duties of its citizenship,
was spoken imder the open sky, to all who happened to form .
His audience.

In this. great declaration of the principles and laws of
the Christian republic—^ republic in the relations of its
citizens to each other — ^a kingdom, in their relations to
Jesus, the omissions are no less striking than the demands.
There is no reference to the priests or Rabbis — till then the
undisputed authorities in religion — ^nor is the rite of circum-
cision even mentioned, though it made the Jew a member
of the Old Covenant, as a mere theocratic form, apart from
moral requirements. It is not condemned, but it is ignored.
Till now, a vital condition of entrance into the kingdom of
God, it is so no more. Nor are any other outward forms
more in favour. The new kingdom is to be founded only
on righteousness and love, and contrasts with the old by
its spiritual freedom, untrammeled by outward rules. It
opposes to the nationality and limitation of the old theocracy
a imiversal invitation, with no restriction except that of
character and conduct. Citizenship is ofiered to all who
sincerely believe in Jesus as the Messiah, and honestly
repent before God. Even the few opening sentences mark

M TH9 UFE OF CHBIST.

oHAP.xxxY. the revolution in religious conceptions which the new Mth
involves. Temporal evil, which, under the former dispen-
sation had been the mark of divine displeasure, became, in
the teaching of Jesus, the mark of fellowship and pledge of
heavenly reward. The opinion of the day regarded poverty,
hunger, trouble, and persecution as punishments for sin:
He enumerates them as blessings. Throughout the whole
Sermon, no political or theocratic ideas find place, but only
spiritual. For the first time in the history of reli^on, a
communion is founded without a priesthood, or oflferings,
or a Temple, or ceremonial services; without symbolical
worship, or a visible sanctuary. There is an utter absence
of everything external or sensuous: the grand spiritual
truths of absolute religious freedom, love, and righteousness,
alone are heard. Nor is the kingdom, thus founded, in
itself visible, or corporate, in any ordinary sense ; it is
manifested only by the witness of the Spirit in the heart,

«' schankei. and by the power going forth from it in the life.^^ In the
BibeiLex.li. finc words of Herder,^ Christianity was founded in direct

« QeiBt dee opposltiou to thc stupid dependence on customs, formulae,
thumB, w. and empty usages. It humbled the Jewish, and even the
Roman national pride : the moribund Levitical worship and
idolatry, however fanatically defended, were wounded to death.
Nothing can be more certain than that Jesus had never
studied under the Sopherim, or Scribes. His contempo-
raries, the Rabbis of Jerusalem, leave no doubt of this, for
they frankly avowed their wonder at His knowledge of- their
theology, and power of Scriptural exposition, though He had

♦•John 7. u. never learned theological science in their schools.*® The
same minute acquaintance with the opinions and teachings
of the day is seen through the whole of the Hill Sermon,
Apart from His mysterious divinity. He was a man like our-
selves, " growing in wisdom" with His years, and, therefore,
indebted in a measure, at least, to the influences and means
around Him, for His human knowledge and opinions. It
speaks volumes for His early training by His mother and
Joseph, that he should have known the Scriptures as He
did, for it is in childhood that the memory gets the bent
which marks its strength in manhood. The synagogue

JEWISH BEUGIOUS TRAININa 55

school, and constantly recurring services, must, however, oHAp.rsxv.
have been the great seminary of the wondrous Boy. Pas-
sages of the Law had been His only school-book, and,
doubtless^ the village teacher, steeped in reflected Rabbinism,
had oflen flattered his harmless vanity by a display before
his young charge, of his knowledge of the traditions and
glosses, which won so much honour to the Scribes. The
Sabbath and week-day homilies of the Sjrnagogue had made
Him a constant listener to local or travelling Rabbis, till, in
the thirty years of His Nazareth life, His mind and memory
had, doubtless, been saturated with their modes of thought,
and the opinions of all the different schools. Theology,
moreover, was the staple of village conversation in Nazareth, as
elsewhere, for his religion was also the politics of the Jew,
and the justification of his haughty national pride. Doubt-
less, also, in Joseph's cottage there was a manuscript of the
Law, and a soul filled with devotion to His Heavenly
Father, like that of Jesus, would find some of the Prophets,
either there or among His family friends. Rabbis from
Jerusalem, or resident in Galilee, must* often have come in
His way, during the thirty private years, and how much
would such a mind and heart learn of their " wisdom," even
in such casual intercourse ? His clearness of intellect. His
transparent innocence of soul, His freedom of spirit, and
transcendent loftiness of morals were all His own, but they
must have used, for their high ends, the facilities around
Him. The very neighbourhood of a heathen population
may have had its influence in breaking down the hereditary
narrowness of His race, and who can tell what ardours may
have been kindled by the wondrous view fi'om the hill-top
of Nazareth? Free from all thought of Himself: filled
with a divine enthusiasm for His Father above and for
humanity, these mountains, that azure sky, the sweeping
table-land beyond the Jordan, the wide glory of heaven
and earth, veiling, above, the eternal kingdoms, and, at His
feet, revealing the enchanting homes of wide populations
differing in blood and in faith, but all alike His brethren,
may have coloured not a few of the sacred utterances of the
Sermon on the Mount

56 THE UFB OF CHRIST.

CHAP. XXXV. This unique example of our Saviour's teaching displays
in one view nearly all the characteristics presented by the
more detached illustrations preserved in the GospeK Never
systematic, the discourses of Jesus were rather pointed
utterances of special truths demanded by the occasion. In
perfect inner harmony with each other, these sententious
teachings at times appear to conflict, for they are often
designed to present opposite sides of the same truth, as the

• Jota«.«ij distinct point to be met required.^® The external and sen-
iji^».«)i suousin all His teachings, however, was always made the
!?«,*•"' vehicle of an inner and heavenly lesson. He necessarily fol-
lowed the mode to which His hearers were used, and taught
them as th^ir own Rabbis were wont, that He might engage
attention. At times He puts direct questions ; at others He is
rhetorical or polemic, or speaks in proverbs, or in more
lengthened discourse. He often uses parables, and some-

»i John 13. 4. times even symbolical actions ; ^^ is always spontaneous and

«Mfttt4.w; ready^^; and even,. at times, points His words by friendly
liuSi.*'"' ^^ cutting irony/^ But while thus in many ways adopting

a Lake 7. 47. thc stylc of thc Rfifbbis, His teaching was very diflferent
Luke 18. ss. even in outward characteristics. They delivered, painfiilly,
what they had learned like children, overlaying every ad-
dress with citations, in their fear of saying a word of their
own ; but the teaching of Christ was the free expression of
His own thoughts and feelings, and this, with the weight of
the teaching itself, gave Him power over the hearts of His

'*JJjjt7.M. audience.^ With a minute and exact knowledge of the
teaching of the schools. He shows, by repeated use of Rab-
binical proofs and arguments, that He was familiar, also,
with the current modes of controversy. His fervour. His
originality, and the grandeur of the truths He proclaimed,
were enough in themselves to commend His words, but He
constantly supports them by the supreme authority of the
Scriptures, which were familiar to Him as His mother-
speech. Simple, as a rule, in all He says. He yet often
opens glimpses into the infinite heights,' where no human
thought can follow Him. The spirit of His preaching is as
transcendent as its matter. Tenderness and yearning love
prevail, but there is not wanting, when needed, the stem-

Jolm7.46.

KINGLY DIGNITT OF JESUS. 57

ness of the righteous judge. Throughout the whole of His ohap^xxxv
ministry, and notably, in the Sermon on the Mount, He
bears Himself with a kingly grandeur, dispensing the rewards
and punishments of the world to come ; opening the king-
dom of heaven to those only who fulfil His requirements,
and resting the future prospects of men on the reception
they give His words. Even to read His utterances forces
from all the confession of those who heard Him, that
" Never man spake like this."

58 THE UFS OF CHBIST.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

THE SEBMON ON THE MOUNT (CoNTnruxD).

oHAP.xxxvL rilHE opening verses of the Sermon on the Mount mark the

JL contrast between the New Kingdom of Grod and the Old.

There is no mention of forms, for the whole life of Jesus

>BibeiL«.ii. was one unbroken service of God.^ The Temple Service,
and the burdensome laws of sacrifices, are passed over, for
the Sermon was delivered in Galilee, far from the splendour
of the one, or the vexatious minuteness and materialism of
the other. The great question of clean and unclean, which
divided the nation within itself; made life a slavery to rules;
and isolated the Jew from all brotherhood with humanity at
large, is left to sink into indiflFerence before the grand
spiritual truths enunciated. The Law came with threats,
prohibitions, and commands; the " Sermon" opens with bene-
dictions, and moves in an atmosphere of promises and

• Jn^er.qnotod euticemcnts.^ Its first sentences are a succession of lofty

by Meyer. ^ ...

HAtt.to/oe. congratulations of those whose spirit and bearing already
proclaim them fit for the new society.

The virtues thus praised are not the active only, but the
passive ; not those of doing alone, but of bearing. " Blessed
are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven ;
blessed the meek, for they will inherit the earth ; blessed
they that mourn, for they will be comforted ; blessed they
that hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they will be
satisfied; blessed the merciful, for they will find mercy;
blessed the peace-makers, for they will be called sons of
God; blessed they that have been persecuted for right-
eousness sake, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven. Blessed
are ye, when they shall reproach and persecute you, and
shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for My

THE BEATITUDES. 59

sake. Rejoice and exult, for your reward is great in Heaven ; ohap.xxxvl
for so did they persecute the prophets that were before

VOU "8a » Matt «. 8—18.

j""* ^ ^ IglTethe

The mission of Christ was said by Himself, in a quotation S&dLrf.
from Isaiah, to be to preach to the poor, and hence it is
with no surprise that we find St. Luke substitute simply
" the poor '' for the " poor in spirit," for both are right. The
first disciples were won almost exclusively from among the
lowly. " The contented poor," Jesus would here say, " who
bear their burden meekly, ance it comesfromGod, those — that
is, who are 'poor in spirit,' — have, in their very meekness,
the sign and proof that, though poor in outward things, they
are rich in higher, for they will, so much the more surely,
be, hereafter, the opposite of what they are here. They are
the poor who have nothing and yet have all. They have
nothing of this world's possessions, and have not yet received
the blessing in the world to come. But the very longing
for the future, and hope of it, are virtually a present pos-
session. Their devout poverty is their wealth, for it secures
treasures hereafter.^ The * Kingdom of Heaven' is theirs •bmt'b
already." This principle runs through all the beatitudes.
As Christ's disciples, the future will be the contrast to the
present ; riches for poverty ; joy for mourning ; plenty for
hunger; a heavenly crown for earthly suffering for the
Master's sake. The contrast of sin and pardon ; the lowly
sense of needed salvation, which already has in itself the
assurance that salvation is granted, are implied in all the
states of heart recounted. Through all, there runs the
deepest sense of the sinfulness and troubles of the present,
and springing from this, the loftiest religious aspirations,
rising far above the earth, to eternal realities. They thus
disclose the inmost and central principle of the new King-
dom; the willing and even joyful surrender of the present,
in lowly hope of the future — and that from no lower motive
than loving obedience and fidelity to Christ. Immediate
self-interest is to be disregarded, for the infinitely higher
prospects of the ftiture world. The one passion of the heart
is to be for greater righteousness, — ^that is, for an ever more
complete self-surrender to the will of God, and active •

60 THE LIFB OF CHBIST.

CHAP. XXXVI. fulfilment of its demands. For Himself Jesus claims the
most loyal devotion, even to the endurance of " all manner
of evil," for His sake. To seek happiness is to fail to obtain it,
but self-surrender to God, and faith in Christ as the Messiah,
in themselves bring it, when disinterested and sincere.
It is striking to note the anticipations of suflFering associ-

» See TjiiBMum'B atcd by Jcsus with true discipleship.*^ SuflFering is assumed

"*• as its inevitable result. He holds out no attractions to

insincerity or woridliness, but at the very outset, fans the

chaflF from the wheat, and repels all but the earnest and

devoted.

Four benedictions are bestowed on the passive virtues ;
four on the active. To bear poverty with lowly resignation
to God ; to mourn, and yet trust that all is for the best ;
to reproduce the meekness which Jesus Himself displayed,
and to endure trials and persecutions loyally for His sake,
are the negative graces demanded as conditions of member-
ship of the New Kingdom. But active virtues are no less
required ; the hungering and thirsting after righteousness,
which finds its food in fresh, joyful, continuous acts of good-
ness ; the mercy which delights to bless the wretched; the
purity of heart, which strives to realize in the soul the image
of God, and the gentleness which spreads peace around it.''

The key-note of all the utterances of Christ reveals itself
. in these few sentences. His kingdom is at once present and
future : present by the undoubting faith in His assurances
that it would hereafter assuredly be attained : future in the
fact that the realization of its joys was reserved for the
life to come. Unlike John, He proclaims that the time of
expectation is over: that the New Kingdom has already
come as a living power in the soul, diflfusing its blessings,
at once within and around its members. It is established
in its rights and duties, to develop and advance, henceforth,
till its glory cover the earth. In one aspect, it is incomplete
till its full realization in the distant future : in another it is
already perfect, for it reigns in every single soul which has
humbly accepted Jesus as its King.

After this introduction, He proceeds to enforce on His
disciples the duties of their new relation to Him, and to

THE LAW OF THE KINGDOM. 61

cheer them, by recalling the dignity it confers. " You have, ohap.xxxvl
indeed, good cause to rejoice," says He, " and to be brave
of heart, for you are the salt of the earth ; the light of the
world; a city set on a hill." Mere ostentation, or insincere
parade of virtue, were abhorrent to Him, and formed His
great charge against the acted religion of the day. But the
enthusiasm of true goodness, He tells them, must of necessity
be seen and felt. Life is shown by its energy; where
there is no active vital power, there is only death. He
prescribes no lengthened code of duties, but trusts. to the
ardour and devotion of loyalty to Himself, as a perfect
equivalent. ^ Drawn to Him by grateful and lowly affection.
He leaves it to the love of His followers to exceed all
precise directions, and outstrip all formal requirements.
His kingdom is as strictly under law as any other, but,
for the endless statutes of earthly monarchies, and the
equally unnumbered prescriptions of the old theocracy,
He substitutes a single all-sufficing law — ^the law of love,
which makes each member of His kingdom a law to himself.
All «tre to give themselves up to Him as unreservedly as
He has given Himself up for them.

Intense sincerity is thus made the fundamental demand,
and His own personal example their standard and pattern.
To be the light of the world, they must needs look to Him,
for He had especially applied that name to Himself^ They • /ohns-w.
had the immense advantage of example, so much more
effective than precept. The New Kingdom was only the
reflection of His own character, and, thus, His commands
were best carried out by imitating His life ; for He, Himself,
was the one perfect illustration of complete fulfilment of
its laws. No grudging or partial devotion would suffice.
They must heartily conform their inmost being to His
image,^ and shed round them, in their respective spheres, the y uumann. na.
spiritual blessings which beamed brightest from Himself.
Thus calmly, and as His natural right and place. He consti-
tutes Himself the grand ideal of humanity, and men feel
that there is no rashness or incongruity in His assumption
of the stupendous dignity.

Failure, however, is human, and hence a few solemn

63 THE UFB OF CHRIST.

oHARxxxvL words of warning are added. " Salt keeps and makes sonnd
what would else corrupt. But impure salt may lose its salt-
ness, and once lost it cannot be restored. What was before of
blessed use, is, henceforth, worthless, and may be cast out
upon the road to be trodden under foot. K you, the salt
of the earth,® lose your spiritual worth, by faint-heartedness,
or sloth, or dark unfaithftdness, your needed energy and
efficiency are irreparably gone. Who will take your place ?
You will be no longer fit for the work I have assigned you.
If the salt be pure, it will not lose its power ; it is the earth
and impurities mixed with it, that make it worthless ; and
so you must put away all that might make you go back, if
you would be true disciples. Your lasting worth depends

• 866 Luke ou your devotiou to me being unqualified and absolute.*
Mitt.6.i«-i6. You are to enlighten men as the sun enlightens the world.

I am the light of the world : you shine by my light : see
that, in turn, you illumine the darkness round you. A light
is to shine, not to be hidden. Like a lamp on its stand, it
is your office to shed light, and drive off darkness. The
beams of your good works must shine before men, that they
may honour God, your Father, in Heaven. Like a city
set on a hill, you are to draw on you all eyes."

Passing from general principles to specific details, Jesus
now proceeded to show the i^elations of His new kingdom to

• JMatt.5.17-48. thc old thcocracy.^ The charge of hostility to the Law had

been brought against Him, and would be urged against
w ActB6.u. His disciples.^^ He would show them that the new roots
itself in the old, and is its completion and glory, not its
destruction.

" Think not," said He, " that I came to supersede your
ancient Scriptures — the Law and the Prophets. I came not to
destroy, but to fulfil. Worthless forms, worn out with age,
may perish and must, but not the least jot or tittle of the
sacred truths they for a time have clothed, shall pass, while
heaven or earth endure. The forms are not the Law. Rites
and ceremonies are only helps, for simple ages, which need
material sjnmbols. The kingdom of God has now outgrown
them. The truth must henceforth stcmd alone, appealing to
the spirit without such outward aids. Local and national,

THE LAW EXALTED. 63

they have served their day, but the new kingdom of God, ohip^xxxvi
which is for all times and races, knows only a worship in
spirit and in truth. So far am I from slighting or destroy-
ing the truth hidden under these outward forms, that he
who breaks one of the least spiritual demands of the Law, and
teaches men to copy him in doing so, shall be called least
in my kingdom: while he who obeys and teaches them
as a whole, shall be called great in it The Law is for
ever sacred. I only strip it of its outward accidents, to
reveal the better its divine glory. Spoken by God, it is
eternal I come to do it honour ; to confirm, but also to
clear it from human additions and corruptions."

Jesus, in thus speaking, had a very different conception
of the Law from that of the Eabbis. To Him it meant the
sacred moral commands given from Sinai. The whole
apparatus of ceremony and rite at first connected with them,
were only rude external accommodations to the childhood of
religion, to aid the simple and gross ideas of early ages.
Looking beneath the symbol to the essential truth, it was a
lofty, religious, moral, and social legislation, far deeper,
wiser, holier, and more complete than the highest human
system. He knew how the prophets had drawn from it the
pure and exalted conceptions they had enforced, anticipating
in their spirituality His own teaching. But centuries lay
between Him and the prophets, and Judaism had sunk to a
painful idolatry of the letter and outward form of the Law,
to the neglect of its spirit and substance. The Exile had
weakened and perverted the national conscience, and a
burning zeal for rigid external observance of the letter had
followed the just belief that their national troubles had been
a punishment for previous shortcomings.

The Pharisees, who gave the tone to the people, filled up
their life with a weary round of oflferings, ceremonies, and
purifications; and, not content with the prescriptions of
Moses, had added a tedious system of meritorious works;
fasts, washings, alms, and prayers. The Essenes, and stiU
more John, had turned back to the purer air of the prophets,
from this barren, mechanical piety, and had taught that
righteousness, love, and human sympathy, were the highest

64 THB LIFE OF CHRIST.

cHAP^xxxvL requirements of the Law, But the veil was still on their

eyes; their reforms were partial. The Essenes had even

more washings than the Pharisees ; they eschewed marriage,

property, and the world, and the Baptist fasted, and required

»> Edm's Pharisaic forms. ^^ Jesus pierced to the heart of the truth.

B^SS- ' Stripping off all obsolete wrappings of rite and symbol, and

gj^gm, It. repudiating all human additions, He proclaimed the Law in

ggj^ its divine ideal, as binding for ever, in its least part,* on all

ages.

His supreme loyalty to the Law could not fail, in a spirit
80 divinely sincere, to involve a condemnation of its cor-
ruption by the religious teachers of the day. It followed
presently : " Except your righteousness exceed that of the
Scribes and Pharisees," He continued, " ye will not enter
into the kingdom of heaven." He charges them, not only
with themselves breaking the commandments, by their
casuistry and their immoral additions, but with leading men
at large in« the same evil path.

The fundamental principle of the Pharisaic conception of

righteousness which Jesus thus strenuously opposed, was

their idea that strict observance of the traditions and

commands of their schools, in itself satisfied the requirements

of God. Fulfilment of what was written in the Law and

its Rabbinical expositions, was, in their opinion, only a

question of punctilious outward observance. They weakened

the conception of moral evil by subtle discriminations of

It schenkei, casuistry.^^ In trifles the most exact minuteness was required,

8w. but in greater matters the. principles of morality were boldly

undermined or surrendered. The tithing of mint, dill, and

cummin — ^mere garden herbs — ^was vital, but grave questions

of right and wrong were treated with indifference. This

moral prudery and pedantry, which strained the wine

before drinking it, lest a fly might have fallen into it and

made it unclean, but made no trouble of swallowing a

« MattM.M. camel, ^^ was the hypocritical righteousness against which

" Matt. S8. 18,28. Jcsus dlrcctcd His bitterest words.^* With all their lip

veneration for it, they set little value on the study of the

Law itself, but much on that of the commentaries of the

" fr^aSSk Rabbis, now embodied in the Mischna and Gemara.^^ The

MeiU,in
Oob«i,l«8.

PHARISAIC SCRUPULOSITY. 65

Rabbinical tradition so amplified and twisted the words ofoHAP.xxxvL
the Law, as to make it express, in many cases, the opposite
of its natural meaning. ^^ Relirion had become almost » s«e instancea
wholly a mechanical service, without reference to the heart.
As in other theocratic communities, a man might be emi-
nently religious, in the Pharisaic sense, and yet utterly
depraved and immoral. The teaching of the prophets,®
which demanded internal godliness, was slighted, and the
study of their writings almost entirely put aside for that of
the legal traditions and of the Law.' The desire to define,
to the smallest detail, what the Law required, had led, in the
course of ages, to a mass of conflicting Rabbinical opinions,
which darkened rather than explained each command. The
" hedge " round the Law had proved a hedge of thorns, for
Rabbis and people alike. ^^ The question was, not what was » PWBseL
right or wrong, but what the Law, as expounded by the ^J**^^
Rabbis, demanded, and zeal was stimulated by the mercenary
expectation of an equivalent reward,^® for scrupulous exact- « schtiwr, 488.
ness in fulfilment.

A better illustration of tne moral worthlessness of the
Pharisaic ideas of righteousness could hardly, perhaps, be
found, than in the fact that, with all their ostentatious reve-
rence for the Scriptures, he who touched a copy of them
was, thereby, made unclean. " According to you," said the
Sadducees of their rivals, " the Scriptures defile the hands,
while Homer does not." The skins on which the sacred
books were written might have been those of an unclean
beast, or, at least, they were part of a dead body. But the
Pharisees had their retort ready. " Why," asked they, " are
the bones of an ass clean and those of the high priest, John
Hyrcanus, unclean? " " It is the kind of bone that determines
the uncleanness," answered the Sadducees, " else we would
make spoons of the bones of our relatives!" "Just so,"
retorted the Pharisees, "it is the value we attach to the
Scriptures which has made us decide that they defile the
hands, while Homer does not."^^ They worshipped the w Dewobonrft
letter, but misconceived the essence of Scripture; treated i47;i«?u5J
morality as a trifle, and trifles as the only religion. In their
early days, fired by a true zeal for God ; they had degenerated,
VOL. u. 44

66 THE LIFE OF CHBIST.

oHAP.xxxYLaa a body, into mere "actors." "There were plenty of
Pharisees," says even Jost, himself a Jew, " who used the
appearance of piety as a cloak for shameful ends." Nor did
this escape the people, especially as these hypocrites sought
to attract attention by exaggerated displays, and contemp-
tuous bynames were presently given them. The name of
Pharisee came to be like that of Jesuit in the mouth of
friends or opponents. Even Philo does not mention it, and
it soon died out of the mouth of the people, and survived
• jte^ L soff. only as a term of the schools.^^

With a system so utterly hollow, and yet so deeply rooted
in popular favour, Jesus could hold no terms. With the
better side of Pharisaism He had much in common, but, as
it showed itself, in its growing corruption, He could only
condemn it. Zealots for words and forms ; lofty in abstract
views ; the mouthpiece of the nation at large, in its religious
and political aspirations, there must have been little real
soundness in a body at large, of which a spirit so gentle as
that of Christ could speak as whited sepulchres and a genera-
tion of vipers.

To illustrate His meaning, Jesus proceeds to give examples
of Pharisaic abuse of the Law, holding up what is implied in
its due observance, that he may show how it was broken by
its professed zealous defenders. The sublime morality of the
New Kingdom, with its lofty spiritualization of the Law, is,
He implies, the true conservatism— it is His opponents who
are undermining it.

The Mosaic prohibition of murder had been limited by the
Rabbis to literal homicide, and they had added to the brief
words of the Law, that the criminal was in danger of the
judgment of God, in some cases, and of the Sanhedrim in
others. But this did not satisfy the high spirituality of the
New Kingdom. It included in the brief utterance of God,
through Moses, a condemnation even of angry words or
thoughts. " I say unto you, that every one who is angry
with his brother will be liable to the judgment of God ; and
whosoever shall express contempt for his brother, will be
liable to the Sanhedrim ; ^ and whosoever shall say. Thou
worthless one, will be liable to hell fire. I go beyond the

THE JEWISH LAW OP DIVORCE. 67

ScribeSy for I dedare, as the fulfiller of the Law, that un- ohap^xxxvl
righteous anger is worthy of the full punishment they attach
to its overt result in homicide ; nay, more, I declare the ex-
pression of such anger in bitter words as incurring the
danger of hell. Not to love one's 'brother'^^ is, with me, the « J,Jgj5^'"-
essence of the crime condemned by the Law: the lesser *^^
expressions of anger I denounce as worthy of divine, though
temporal punishment; in the worst cases, as worthy of
punishment in the world to come." Anger with a brother
entails the anger and judgment of God: public reproach
merits a public penalty, but he who would consign another
to hell is himself in danger of being sent to it.^ He does not
suppose His disciples could possibly commit the crime of
murder, or even break into open violence, but He ranks
under an equal guilt the passions which lead to them in
others. He charges the murder, not against the hand that
strikes, but the heart that hates.*

This was startling enough, but the application made of it
must have sounded no less so. " Only the pure in heart
can see Grod, and hence it is vain for you to seek His presence
by an offering, if you have in any way thus offended. If
you have, and in the solemn moment of appearing before
God remember it, — evil though men think it to break off or
interrupt a sacrifice, — ^leave your offering before the altar ;
seek him whom you have wronged, and be reconciled to him,
and, then, come and offer your gift.'^ You have wronged
God, not man only. Beware lest, if you do not make peace
with Him, by instant atonement to your brother. He act to
you as a creditor does with a debtor he meets in the street —
whom he delivers up to the judge, and whom the judge
hands over to the officer to cast into prison. I tell you, if
God thus let His anger kindle upon you, you will not come
out tiQ you have paid the last farthins: !"^ « Hor.Heb.iL

•^ "*■ ^ , 117. Boztor^

The Pharisaic doctrine of marriage offences and divorce J/^JL^*^
was next imsparingly condemned, as an inadequate expres-
sion of the spirit of the Law. It restricted adultery to the
crime itself, and it sanctioned divorce at the mere whim of the
husband. Doubtless individual Rabbis represented healthier
views than others, but they did not affect the prevailing

68 THE UFE OF CHRIST.

OHAP. TxxYL tone. As with homicide, so, in adultery, the morality of
the New Kingdom traced the crime home to the heart, and
condemned the unclean glance as a virtual commission of the
crime itself. The thoughts were nothing, in the loose
morality of the day, but Jesus arraigns the secret lusts of
the breast, with an earnestness unknown to the Rabbis.
Unconditional self-mortification is to be carried out, when
guilty thoughts imperil the soul. " If your right eye," says He,
"or your right hand, your sight or your touch, lead you into
temptation, it is better for you to pluck out the one, and cut
off the other, rather than be led astray, and not only lose a
share in my kingdom, but be cast into hell hereafter."^ Not
that He meant this in a hard and literal sense. The sin is
with Him, in the heart, but the senses are its instruments,
and no guard can be too strict, ijo self-restraint too great, if
they endanger spiritual purity.

The Pharisaic laws of divorce were shamefully loose. " If
any one," said the Rabbis, "see a woman handsomer than
his wife, he may dismiss his wife and marry that woman,"
and they had the audacity to justify this by a text of Scrip-
ture.™ Even the strict Schammai held that if a wife went out
without being shrouded in the veil which Easterti women stiU
wear, she might be divorced, and hence many Rabbis locked
up their wives when they went out ! While some held that
divorce should be lawful only for adultery, others, like
Josephus, claimed the right to send away their wives if they

■ viti^ 7«. were not pleased with their behaviour. ^^ The school of
Hillel even maintained that, if a wife cooked her husband's
food badly, by over-salting or over-roasting it, he might put
her away, and he might also do so if she were stricken by

t4 Hot. Heb. iL auy gricvous bodily affliction 1^* The facility of divorce

Kaim, li'sM. among the Jews, had, indeed, become so great a scandal,

even among their heathen neighbours, that the Rabbis were

fain to boast of it as a privilege granted to Israel, but not to

other nations !

The woman divorced was at once free to marry, her letter
of dismissal, signed by witnesses, expressly granting her the
liberty to do so.

Rising high above all this festering hypocrisy, the law of

THE LAW OP OATHS* 69

the New Bangdom sounded out, clear and decisiva ** It cacA?. xxxvl
has been said by Moses ''^^ continued Jesus, "Whosoever shall" DeutM.i.
put away his wife, let him give her a bill of divorce. But
I say unto you, that whosoever shall put away his wife,
except for fornication, causes her to be the occasion of
adultery ^^ if she marry again, for she is still a wife ; and « Tfaeb«»iidorr8
whosoever marries her, when put away, thus commits
adultery."

The use of oaths was no less prevalent in Christ's day than
it stiU is in the East, and the Rabbis had sanctioned the
practice by laying down minute rules for its regulation.
The law of Moses had absolutely forbidden perjury,^^ but » lot. i». is.
the casuistry of the Eabbis had so darkened the whole
subject of oaths, that they had, in eflfect, become utterly
worthless. They were formally classed under diflTerent
heads, in Eabbinical jurisprudence, and endless refinements
opened facilities for any one to break them who wished.
Tlieir number was endless ; men swore by heaven, by the
earth; by the sun, by the prophets, by the Temple, by Jeru-
salem, by the altar, by the wood used for it, by the sacrifices,
by the Temple vessels, by their own heads.^ « Eaa^iee m

By joining a second text, from a diflferent part, to the ^P^^
prohibition of perjury, the Scribes had, in efiect, opened the «o.*"^' ^
door to every abuse. To the prohibition of Moses, " Thou
shalt not swear falsely, "^^ they had added the charge, " but » LeT.iau.
shalt perform unto the Lord thine oaths, "*^ and from this it«» Deats8.2i.
was argued that no oath was binding, either on one's-self or
towards others, which had no vow of sacrifice as a part of
it, or if the vow had been punctually fulfilled.®^ Any oath, « sohiHt,s«.
any deception towards God or man, and even perjury itself,
was thus sanctioned, if it were only consecrated and purified
by an ofiering. The garrulous, exaggerating, crafty Jew
needed to be cliecked, rather than helped in his untruthful-
ness, but the guardians of the purity of the Law had invented
endless oaths, with minute discriminations, and verbal shades
and catches, which did not expressly name God, or the
Temple, or the altar, and these the people might use, with-
out scruple , mock oaths, harmless to themselves and of no
binding force I

70 THE LDTB OF CHRIBT.

oHAF.zzxvL Against suet equivocation and consecrated hypocrisy
Jesus lifted His voice. " I say unto you, swear not at all ;
neither by heaven, for it is God's throne ; neither by the
earth, for it is His footstool ; nor by Jerusalem, for it is
the city of the Great King. You would tremble to swear by
God, but when you swear by anything connected with His
works or His worship, you swear, in reality, by Himself. Nor
shall you swear by your head, for you cannot make a hair
of it white or black ; and, thus, your oaths by it are idle words.
But let your speech be simply yes and no, for what exceeds
these is from the ' evil one.' As my disciples, your word is
enough : you will speak only as ever in the presence of God."°

The theory of life under the New Kingdom, as we have
seen, was the very opposite of that held by the schools of
the day. Prosperity, with them, was an unbroken enjoy-
ment of life to extreme old age, abundance of worldly
comforts, and continuous success in all undertakings, and
triumphant victory over all enemies. All this was expected
as the just reward of a strict obedience to Rabbinical pre-
scriptions, which constituted the " righteousness of the Law."
Jesus held forth the very opposite of all this as the blessed-
ness to be sought in the New Kingdom. Poverty, sorrow,
and persecution, were to be the natural lot of His followers,
but their transcendent reward, hereafter, and the love
which inspired such devotion, transfigured them to gain and
honour, and demanded the highest joy.

To make the contrast more vivid between the Old Kingdom
and the New, he had added " woes " in connection with all
that the former had praised as specially blessed. The rich,
who have their reward in their earthly possessions; the
prosperous, who cared for nothing except this world, would
suffer hunger hereafter ; those who cared only for present
joy, would one day mourn and weep; those whom men
praised, would find the praise only deceiving flattery.
Patience, humility, gentleness, resignation, and love, were to
characterize the New Israel ; the virtues and rewards of the
soul; the piety of form and rewards in this world, were
discountenanced. The New Kingdom was to win hearts by
spiritual attractions, till now little valued*

THE LAW OF BEVl&NOE. 71

As a practical application of the ideal, thus sketched, coap.
He required His followers to repudiate the Old Testament
doctrine of retaliation, with the endless refinements of the
Sabbis, and to adopt, in its place, the principle of over-
coming evil with good. Antiquity, both Jewish and hea-
then, cherished the idea of revenge for injuries. To requite
like with like was assumed as both just and righteous.
Even Socrates had no higher idea of virtue than to surpass
fiiends in showing kindness, and enemies in inflicting hurt.®^ « x«LMeiiLii.
Plato,^ indeed, held that revenge was wrong, and that no » oritiM, 499.
one should do evil on any ground ; that it was worse to do i>e1^?ib. i
wrong than to suffer it, and that the virtuous man would not
injure any one, because to do so injured himself. But Plato
had only in his mind, in these noble sentiments, the rela-
tions of Greek citizens to each otiier, to the exclusion of
slaves, and of aU the world but his own race; and the motive
for his magnanimity was not love for the individual man, or
for ideal humanity, but only political justice and right.
Roman stoicism rose higher, but its injunctions of kindness to
enemies were rather the expression of self-approving virtue
than of loving moral conviction. Among the Jews, retalia-
tion had the sanction of Moses. Eye for eye, tooth for
tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burning for burning,
wound for wound, stripe for stripe, are required by him,^ ° u ^xod. ». 84
The stem Sadducee party clung to the letter of the Law,
but the milder Pharisees had invented a scale of money
payments instead. As in our own middle ages, a tariff of
fines was constructed for each personal injury ; for tearing
the hair, for a cuff on the ear, a blow on the back, spitting
on the person, taking away an under garment, uncovering a
woman's head, and the like.®^ The value of a hand, or foot, u Bobartoon^
or an eye, was computed by the depreciation it would have ut m (s^te
made in the value of a slave. A blow on the ear was gj^««»>
variously set at the fine of a shilling or a pound : a blow on SSSSlTic,
the one cheek at two hundred zuzees ; on both cheeks, at Hor. h^ u.

180.

double. To tear out hair, to spit on the person, to take ^m^^n^,
away one's coat, or to uncover a woman's head, was com-
pensated by a payment of four hundred zuzees.^
TMs rude and often mercenary softening of the harshness

72 THE LIFE OF CHBIST.

oHAP.xxxvL of the old Law fell wholly below the requirements of the
New Kingdom. Its members must suflFer wrong patiently,
that the conscience of the wrong-doer, — ^become its own
accuser, — ^might be won to repentance, by the lesson of un-
resisting meekness. Christ's own divine charity and for-
giveness was to be repeated by His followers. Sin was to
be conquered by being made to feel the power of goodness.
The present was, at best, only a discipline for the future,
and the patient endurance of wrong, from Christ-like love
and gentleness, was part of the preparation for the pure joys
of the Messianic kingdom. "Ye have heard," said He,
" that it was said. An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.
But I say unto you, that ye resist not the evil man ; but
whosoever smites thee on the right cheek, turn to him the
other ako.*! And to him who desires to contend with thee
and take thy coat, leave him thy cloak also. And whoso-
ever shall press thee one mile, go with him two. To him
that asks thee, give, and from him that desires to borrow of
thee, turn not away."*^ The spirit of such injunctions is
evident. Hasty retaliation ; readiness to stand on one's rights
in all cases ; deliberate revenge rather than pity, are unworthy
a member of the New Kingdom. It is for him to teach by
bearing, yielding, and giving, and not by words only. The
virtues he commends he is to illustrate. But it is far from
the teaching of Christ that law is to cease, or that the evil-
doer is to have everything at his mercy. Only, as far as
possible, the principle of His kingdom is to be the purest,
deepest, self-sacrificing love.

THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT (CONCLUDED). 73

CHAPTER XXXVIL

THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT (Ookcltobd).

TESUS had led His audience step by step to higher and oh. xxxvn.
^ higher conceptions, and now, by an easy transition,
raised them to the highest of all.^ i ohryiostom:

The character of any religion depends on its idea of God. ^^^ ^^
The Jews had no loftier thought of Him than as a national
deity, the Father of Israel and of its proselytes, but not the
God of the world at large. They looked on Him also as a
jealous God, and the Pharisee urged himself to a painful zeal
in his fulfilment of the Law by the thought that the sins of
the father were visited on the third and fourth generation.
If he agonized to carry out a thousand minute prescrip-
tions, if the Essene secluded himself in hurtful loneliness, if
the Sadducee toiled to discharge all that was required in the
service of the Temple, and in the presentation of offerings, if
the people mourned in the apprehension that God had for-
saken them, it was because all alike looked up to a Being who,
as they believed, required what they could hardly render.
They should have drawn other conceptions from their ancient
Scriptures, but they did not. They had always learned much
that was true and sublime from the Law and the Prophets
— ^the Majesty of God and the dependence of the creature —
the dignity of man as the divine image, and the kingly
relation of Jehovah to Israel — ^His son, His first-bom. His
bride, His spouse. They had never lost the conviction that
their nation could not perish, because the honour of God
was pledged to defend it, and they even looked forward, with
a frenzied earnestness, to a future when He would send His
Messiah, and raise them above all the nations. As Jews, many
doubtless drew comfort from the divine words, that, like as •

74 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

OH. mvn. a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that
fear Him. But their theology had sunk to a mere merce-
nary relation of performance and reward. The idea of a
strict return of good for good, or evil for evil, extended to
the next world as well as this, and at the best, God was
only the Father of Israel, not of mankind. Still, above all,
the Master, looking for service from man as the servant —
the fond thought of His fatherhood, even in its limited
national sense, grew more and more common as Christ's day
grew near. The Jew was being educated for the divine
announcement of the whole truth.

The heathen world, also, had long been unconsciously pre-
paring for its proclamation. Greek philosophy had spoken
of the Father of gods and men. Man was the divine
image and of divine origin — ^the friend, the fellow-citizen,

» AnfhoiitiM In thc cmauation, the Son, of God.^ In an insincere age, when
fine words were used as mere rhetorical flourishes, springing

» Benaa, from HO couvictiou or eamestncss, Seneca,' a generation
iM. later, was able to speak almost like a Christian. "The

gods," said he, " are full of pity and friendliness — do every-
thing for our good, and for our benefit have created all
kinds of blessings, with exhaustless bounty, and prepared
everything for us beforehand. What they have they make
over to us : that is how they use things ; and they are un-
wearied, day and night, dispensing their benefits as the
protectors of the human race. We are loved by them as
children of their bosom, and, like loving parent, they
smile at the feults of their children, and cease not to
bestow kindness on kindness to us ; give us before we ask,
and continue to do so, although w^e do not thank them, and
even though we cry out defiantly, 'I shall take nothing
from them ; let them keep what they have for themselves ! '
The sun rises over the unjust, and the seas spread out even
for sea robbers. The gods are easily appeased, never unfor-

« Sena* d.ir. 2. giving; how uufortunatc were we if they were not sol"*

fi«t?»f' Thus also "The way of man, in which the god-like walks,

Epto. 78. w. goes upwards to the gods, who reach out the hand to us

without pride or jealousy, to help us to rise. We need no

. temple, nor even to lift up our hands to heaven : God is

NOBLE HEATHEN SAYINGS. 75 '

near thee ; the Holy Spirit, the Watcher over good or evil, oh. xxxvel
who ever, unweariedly, leads us to God."^ Words like • ^«»- ^sspia.
these sound Christian, though we know that they were only
artificial rhetoric, composed to turn aside the charge of
. worshipping stocks and stones. Faith in the divinity often
gives way, in Seneca, before haughty pride in humanity, and
that pride, in turn, sinks before the dark future. The fancy
played over the dark abyss with empty words of comfort,
respecting the father-like gods and god-like man, but even
prosperity could hardly amuse itself with them, and the
hour of trial repeated them with hollow laughter and self-
murder.^ Yet they were there to use for the highest good, •. Ketai,u.M.
had men chosen. The religious education of the world had
gradually, through long ages, become ready for the teachings
of Jesus.*

The Sermon on the Mount was spoken while every sign
of the wrath of God with the nation lay like a burden on
all, and perplexed the masters in Israel. Yet it was then
that Jesus revealed that God was the Father of men, and
had loved them from the beginning of the world, appealing
for proof even to the lilies of the field and the birds of the
air.^ For the first time, men heard that the whole I'ace ' M»tt 6. 2s.
were the sons of the great heavenly Father ; that the world
lay in the sunshine of His eternal love, and that all alike
were invited to seek His face.^ It was the first proclamation
of a universal religion, and, as such, an event unique in the
history of mankind. In the early ages of the world, war
was perpetual. Even after men had long adopted city
life and its civilization, a stranger and an enemy were
synonymous. Thus, in the first ages of Rome, a stranger
who had not put himself formally under the protection of
some Roman, had no rights and no protection. What the
Roman citizen took from him was as lawful gain as the shell
which no one owned, picked up on the sea-shore.® He was • Mommi*ni»i

' ''■ T T -I « Bom. GhiMh.

like a wild beast, to be hunted and preyed on at any one s *• ^*®-
will.^ To use Mommsen s figure, a tribe or people must be • MommMn'i
either the anvil or. the hammer. Ulysses was only the type of ^ i«i-
the world at large in his day, when, in the early part of his
wanderings, he landed in Thrace, and having jfound a city.

76 THB LIFB OP CHRIST*

cH.xsxvn instantly sacked it and killed all the inhabitants. Where
there was no express treaty, plunder and murder were
always to be dreaded. The only safety of individuals or
communities was their own capacity of self-defence. As
tribes and clans expanded to nations, the blood connection
secured peace, more or less, in the area they occupied, and,
ultimately, the interests of commerce, or the impulse of self-
preservation, joined even states of different nationalities in
peacefiil alliances. Isolated nations, like the Jews, still kept
up the intense aversion to all but their own race, but the
progress of the world made them more and more exceptional.
Before the age of Christ, the conquests of Rome had broken
down the dividing waUs of nationality over the civilized
earth, and had united all races under a common government,
which secured a widespread peace, hitherto unknown. Men
of races living far apart found themselves free to compete
for the highest honours of public life or of letters, and Rome
accepted emperors and men of genius, alike, from the obscure
populations of the provinces.'^

But though conquest had forced the nations into an out-
ward unity, there was no real fusion or brotherhood. Man,
as man, had gained nothing. The barbarian and the slave
were no less despised than before, and had gained no more
rights. The Romans had been forced, for their own sakes,
to raise the conquered to more or less political equality with
themselves, but they did so from no sentiment of respect to
them as fellow-men, and still bore themselves towards them
with the same haughty superiority and ill-concealed aversion.
It was the peace of political and even moral death. All
mankind had become the slaves of the despot on the Tiber.
Ancient virtues had passed away, and vice and corruption,
unequalled, perhaps, in any age, lay like a deadly miasma
over universal society. The union of the world was regretted,
as superseding the times when Rome could indulge its tastes
in war and plunder. It was a political comprehension, not
a moral federation. The hostility of the past was impos-
sible, but the world had only become a mob, not a brother-

loseoftfltie hood, of uations,^® and had sunk in morality, as it had
go^mo* advanced in outward alliance.

BBIGK OF HATRBD. 77

With the Jews, the old hatred of all races but their own had oh. rovn.
grown with the calamities of the nation. It seemed to them
a duty to hate the heathen and the Samaritan, but their
cynicism extended, besides, to all respecting whom the
jealousy for the honour of the Law had raised suspicion.
They hated the publicans ; the Rabbi hated the priest, the
Pharisee the Sadducee, and both loathed and hated the
common people, who did not know the ten thousand injunc-
tions of the schools. They had forgotten what the Old
Testament taught of the love of God towards men, and of
the love due by man to his fellow. They remembered that
they had been commanded to show no favour to the sunken
nations of Canaan, but they forgot that they had not been
told to hate them. The Law had said " Thou shalt love thy
neighbour as thyself; " ^^ but th^ir neighbour, they assumed, " lw. 19.18.
meant only a Jew or a proselyte, and they had added that
they should "hate their enemies." " If a Jew see a Gentile
fall into the sea," wrote Maimonides, still cherishing the old
feeling centuries later, " let him by no means take him out ;
for it is written, ' Thou shalt not rise up against the blood
of thy neighbour,' but this is not thy neighbour." ^^ The »■ -^rt-Nich-
spirit of revenge which prevailed, embittered even private ^^^-^ gj-
life among the Jews themselves. Each had his own enemies,
whom he felt free to hate and to injure, and all, alike, hated
whole classes 01 their own nation, and the whole heathen
races.

Jesus was, now, by a simple utterance, to create a new .
religious era. " Ye have heard," said He, " that it was said,
Thou shalt love thy neighbour and hate thine enemy. But
I say unto you, Love your enemies, and pray for them who
persecute you; that ye may become sons of your Father,
who is in heaven; for He makes His sun to rise on the
evil and good, and sends rain on the righteous and un-
righteous. For if ye love them that love you, what reward
have ye? (in my kingdom). Do not even the (hated)
publicans the same ? And if ye salute your brethren only,
what do ye that exceeds? Do not even the (heathen)
Gentiles the same thing ? Be ye, therefore, perfect, as your
heavenly Father is perfect."

78 THB UfB OF CHRIST.

OH.XXXVIL It was a new era for man. Heathenism had fine senti-
ments, but they were supported by no high morality, and no
living hopes. The Old Testament often commended kindness

" g|«>. «.*.«• and mercy, ^® but it also sanctioned revenge and triumph
102^29^80. ^^^^ *^^ f^ll of an enemy, ^* and, even in the most attractive

H pTT.e! mIt P^sages, it seemed as if piety were expected to make the

w Pa. 7.6. 7. anger of God on one's adversaries the more certain.^^ But
Jesus throws down the dividing prejudices of nationality,
and teaches universal love without distinction of race, ijaerit,
or rank. A man's neighbour, henceforth, was every one
who needed help, even an enemy. All men, from the slave
to the highest, were sons of one Father in heaven, and should
feel and act towards each other, as brethren. No human
standard of virtue would suffice : no imitation of the loftiest
examples among men. Moral perfection had been recognized,
alike by heathen and Jews, as found only in likeness to the
divine, and that Jesus proclaims as, henceforth, the one ideal
for all humanity. With a sublime enthusiasm and brotherly
love for the race, He rises above His age, and announces a
common Father of aU mankind, and one grand spiritual
ideal in resemblance to Him.

With this grand truth of Christianity the relation of
man to His maker was entirely changed. The love of a
child to a father took the place of fear, as a motive to His
service. A new spiritual kingdom of filial love and obedience
was called into being, with filial yearnings after Him, and
childlike devotion to His will — ^a kingdom in which the hum-
ble, the meek, and the merciful found their heaven, and in
which all who hungered and thirsted after righteousness felt
that they could be satisfied. The pure in heart were, as such,
its citizens; the souls who love the things of peace were
called its children, and those who bore persecution and
sorrow for the sake of righteousness were to inherit it.^

To be " perfect as the great Father in heaven is perfect," is
to do God's will on earth as the angels do it above, and,
hence, the new kingdom is thus spoken of elsewhere. It
was to be wholly spiritual, in contrast to the political dreams
of the Pharisees. They had transformed the predictions of
the prophets to a political programme, which should be

THB FATHERHOOD OV GOD. 79

realized by war against Rome, and zealous agitation against oh.
the Sadducean aristocracy. They thought of another Mac-
cabsBan war, to be followed by a revelation of the Messiah
from heaven. The kingdom of Jesus, on the contrary, was
not to rise like a State, so that men could say it was here,
or there, because it was already in their midst.^^ It could » Loko 17. m,
not be otherwise. He had proclaimed that God was the great
Father, and, as such, the loving, filial desire that they
might be His children thrust aside the cold thought of
reward, which had hitherto ruled. He proclaimed that God
loved them, not in return for their services, but from the
love and tenderness of a Father's heart, which sent forth His
sun over good and bad alike, and rejoiced more over a
sinner's repentance than over the weary exactness in Rab-
binical rules of fifty who thought themselves righteous.
The fundamental principle of the Judaism of the day was
undermined by the new doctrine. What need was there
longer for offerings, for Temple ritual, for washings or
fastings, or scrupulous tithings, when the great Father sought
only the heart of His penitent child? The hope of the
Rabbis that they could hold God to the fulfilment of what
they thought His promises, if only the Mosaic ideal of the
theocracy, in their sense, was restored, fell to the ground.
The isolation of the Jews, and their glory as the chosen
people of God, were things of the past. One part of the
theocracy after the other was doomed to fall before this
grand proclamation, for its foundations were sapped. The
Fatherhood of God, which now falls like an empty sound on
the ear of the multitude, was, at its utterance, the creation

Df a new world. ^^® " Hana»th, 1.

Jesus had, now, set forth the characteristics of citizenship
ia His new kingdom, and the new law ; He passed, next,
to the new life.^^ A warning was needed to e^uard His " wertcott,
followers, in their religious duties, from the abuses of the "*•
Rabbinical party.

Almsgiving had been exalted by the Scribes to an act in
itself meritorious before God. The words ^'alms," and
" righteousness,"^ were, indeed, used interchangeably.^^ "For «• nor. Heti u.
one farthing given to the poor," said the Rabbis, " a man

80 THE LIFE OF CHBI8T.

cH.mYn. will receive heaven." The words, " I shall behold Thy face
in righteousness," were rendered in the gloss " because of
alms." "This money," said others, "goes for alms, that
my sons may live, and that I may obtain the world to
come." " A man's table now expiates by alms, as the altar,
heretofore, did by sacrifice." " He who gives alms will be
kept from all evil." In an age when the religious spirit
was dead, outward acts of religion were ostentatiously
practised, at once to earn a reward from God, and to secure
honour for holiness from men. Religion was acted for gain,
either present or future. Against such hypocrisy Jesus
warns His followers. " Take heed that ye do not your
» Matt. e.i-u. righteousness «^ before men,^® to be seen by them, otherwise
you have no reward with your Father who is in heaven."
They were to draw no attention to their charity, by having
it proclaimed in the synagogue,^ or by ostentatiously
^ving it in the streets, to earn praise of men, but were to
hide it as if they would not even let their left hand know
what their right hand was doing. Sincerity only, gave
charity value. The amount was not essential : the spirit was
all. Insincerity had no reward but the empty honour from
men, got by deceit ; sincerity was rewarded by their Father
in Heaven, who saw the secret deed.*

Even prayer had become a formal mechanical act, pre-
scribed by exact rules. The hours, the matter, the manner,
were all laid down. A rigid Pharisee prayed many times a
day, and too many took care to have the hours of prayer
overtake them, decked in their broad phylacteries, at the
street comers, that they might publicly show their devout-
ness, — or went to the synagogue that the congregation might
see it. Nor were they content with short prayers, but
lengthened their devotions as if to make a merit of their
a seeSchtiTw. duratiou.^^ Instead of this, the members of the new king-

Ti^iS!^' dom were to retire to strict secrecy when they prayed, and
address their Father who sees in secret, and would reward
them hereafter, in the future world, for their sincerity. Nor
were they to use the foolish repetitions in vogue with the
heathen, who thought they would be heard for their much
speaking. The great Father knows what we need before

THE LOBD's FBAYEB. ' 81

we ask Him, and requires no lengthened petitions.* Prayer aaxxxviL
in the congregation is not forbidden, for Jesus Himself
frequented the synagogue, and joined in public devotions.
But private prayer must be private, to guard against human
weakness corrupting it into wortiiless parade. The simplest,
shortest prayer, unheard by human ear, is accepted of God,
if it rise from the heart : if the heart be wanting, all prayer
is mere form.

It is always much easier, however, to follow a pattern
than a precept, and, hence, Jesus proceeded to set before
them a model prayer. " After this, manner, therefore, pray
ye. Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy
name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done, as in heaven,
so also on earth. Give us this day our daily bread. And
forgive us our debte (to Thee), aa we, also, have forgiven our
debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us
from the evil one."^^ He added that our being forgiven our » ThoDoxdogy
trespasses by God depended on our forgiving men theirs gp^^^7
against us. ^ S^^il

It was the custom of every Rabbi to teach his disciples a n^^fm
form of prayer,^ and in >'The Lord's Prayer," Jesus, as« sepp,iL826.
John already had done, followed the example. But what
a difference between His model and that of other teachers !
He had created a new heaven, and a new earth, for the
soul, and in this prayer the mighty revelation of the Father-
hood of God shines, like a sun, over all humanity. The
highest conceivable ideal of perfection and felicity for the
race, is offered in the will of the Eternal Father being done
on earth as it is in heaven. Childlike trust and dependence
ask, and are contented with, daUy bounty from that Father's
hand. His mercy is pleaded by hearts that already have
learned to show it to others. The spirit stands before Him
clothed in humility, and full of love and tenderness towards
its fellows. Conscious weakness stretches out its hand for
heavenly help, distrusting itself, but strong in a Higher.
Each clause, almost each word, is full of the deepest signifi-
cance. Each is filled with divine light.^ After eighteen
centuries, Christendom knows no expression of thoughts and
feelings so frdl in so small a compass, so rich, so majestic in

VOL. n. 45

82 THB LIFB OF CHBIST.

CH. xxjLviL praise and petition. Hallowed phrases, current in His day,
may be quoted as parallels of single parts, but He alone
united them to words of His own with a breadth and solidity,
a childlike simplicity and wisdom, a strength and lowliness
wholly unknown in Jewish literature.™

Fasting had become one of the prominent reUgious usages
of Our Saviour's day. Though only one fast had been
appointed by Moses — ^that of the Day of Atonement — ^the
Pharisees had added numerous others, especially on the two
days of the week, Monday and Thursday, on which syna-
gogue worship was held. When fasting, they strewed their
heads with ashes, and neither washed nor anointed them-

«• Ujriitfoot, II selves ^ nor trimmed their beards, but put on wretched
clothing, and showed themselves in all the outward signs of
mourning and sadness used for the dead."^ Insincerity made
capital of feigned humiliation and contrition, till even the
Roman theatre noticed it. In one of the plays, of the time,
a camel, covered with a mourning cloth, was led on the
stage. " Why is the camel in mourning ?" asked one of the
players. " Because the Jews are keeping the Sabbath year,
and grow nothing, but are living on thistles. The camel is

» 8cni^iLM5. mourning because its food is thus taken from it."^^ Rabbis

« cnrtir«,Li6fi. were forbidden to anoint themselves before going out,^^ and
it was recorded of a specially famous doctor, that his face

« ijjbtfoot, 11. was always black with fasting.^^ All pretence was abhorrent
278. Bohflwr, to thc soul of Jcsus, cspccially in religion. "When ye fast,"
itott«.i»-i8. gg^^ gg^ a lyQ jjQ^ ag ^\^q hypocritcs, of a sad countenance ;

for they disfigure their faces, that they may appear unto
men to fast. Verily I say unto you, They have their reward.
But do thou, when thou fastest, anoint thine head and wash
thy face ; that thou mayest not appear unto men to fast, but
to thy Father who is in secret, and thy Father, who sees in
secret, will reward thee." To seek effect, applause, credit,
or gain, by a show of godliness, must be shunned by
members of the New Kingdom. It would be better to let
men think evil of them, than to be tempted to use religion
for ulterior ends. True pain and true sorrow hide from the
eye of strangers; they withdraw to the secrecy of the
breast

TBUST IN PROVIDENCE. 83

He had already spoken of the need of care in the right oh. xxxvn.
use of the blessings of life, but He knew our proneness to
forget, and returns to the subject once more. " Heap not
up for yourselves," said He, "treasures on earth, where moth
and rust consume, and where thieves break through and
steal. But treasure up for yourselves treasures in heaven,®
where neither moth nor rust consumes, and where thieves
do not break through nor steal. For, if your treasure is on
earth, your heart must needs be careless of heaven. But if
it be in heaven, your hearts wiU be there also. To have
it there, you must have the inner light in your souls, —
your mind^^ and heart — ^by which you perceive and cherish "^jJJJJSt
the truth — unclouded. K they be darkened, it wiU turn >«<««•«• i>-2a
your heart away from the right and divine. The body
without the eye is in darkness ; for light enters only by
the eye, as from a lamp. When your eye is sound, your
body is full of light ; when it is darkened, all within is
night. So is it with the eye of the souL"

*' Do not fancy," He continued, " that you can join the
striving for riches and for the kingdom of God. They are
absolutely opposed. No man can serve two masters whose
interests are opposite. Either he will hate the one and love
the other, or he will hold to the one and despise the other.
You cannot worship the God of heaven, and Mammon, the
god of riches.P To serve God, and yet make money your
idol, is impossible I They are opposites 1"

"An undivided heart, which worships God alone, and
trusts Him as it shoidd, is raised above anxiety for earthly
wants. Therefore, I say unto you. Be not anxious for your
life, what ye shall eat, nor yet for your body, what ye shall
put on.^^ Is not the life more than the food, and the body * soueier.
than the raiment ? Behold the birds of the air ; they sow gj^*«**«» *"■
not, neither reap, nor gather into barns, and yet your Hea- Matte. 24-«4
venly Father feeds them.** Are ye not much better than they?
Which of you, by anxious thought, can add one cubit to
the length of his life ? And about raiment why are ye
anxious? Consider the lilies of the field, how fair and
beautiful they grow.^ They toil not, neither do they spin, *• sepm «. w.
and yet Solomon, in his royal robes, was not arrayed like

84 THE LIPB OP CHRIST.

OH. TxxvjL one of these. And if God so clothe the grass of the field,
which to-day is, and to-morrow is cast into an oven/ will
He not much more clothe you, 0 ye of little faith ? Be not,
therefore, anxious, saying, What shall we eat, or what shall
we drink, or what shall we put on?" For the Gentiles seek
after all these things. But your Heavenly Father knows that
ye have need of them. Seek, first. His kingdom and righteous-
ness, and they shall all be added to you. Be not, therefore,

« scudaw anxious for the morrow.^^ The morrow will have its own

maolier,

gj**^'^ cares. Each day's evil is sufficient for the day." He enjoins
^dw^ei^ not idle indifference and easiness of temper, but the freedom
fi'om care of a soul which firmly trusts in the Providence of
God. The citizens of the New Kingdom might well confide
in their Heavenly Father, and amidst all the trials and
straits even of such a martjr life as had been predicted
for them, might and should retain calm and unshaken con-
fidence in the sustaining and guiding wisdom and love of God.
As His children, they had an express right to look for His
all-sufficient care.

No vice was more rank among the Jews, through the
influence of their priestly and Rabbinical leaders, than narrow
bigotry, which condemned all opinions varying in the least
from their own. They were trained to take it for granted
that their whole religious system, in its minutest forms and
rules — ^their religious thought, faith, and life — ^had been
revealed by God from heaven. They were a nation of
fanatics, ready to fight to the death for any one of the ten
thousand ritual injunctions of their religious teachers. A
discourse designed to proclaim the advent, character, and
laws of the new theocracy, could not close without touching
on the duties of social life, and laying down principles for
guidance. He had enjoined the broad law of gentle love,
as the rule for intercourse mth men at large. He now
illustrates it in additional applications.
« Matt. 7. 1-12. " Judge not," said He, "that ye be not judged^^ (by God);
Sr^uSS condemn not, and ye shall not be condemned ; forgive, and
mMtuv,uL84. jQ g]jg2j Y)e forgiven. For with what judgment ye judge

A^Stetiona, (men) ye shall be judged (hereafter). Give, and it will be
^enkeL lOL &^^^ ^ 7^^ 5 good mcasurc, pressed down, shaken together,

Eeim,iL8a

FEABLS BEFORE 8WIHB. 85

running over, will they give into your bosom. For witt o^. myiL
what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you. Be
charitable respecting the errors and shortcomings of others,
that you may not have your own sins brought against you
at the great day, and find there the condemnation you have
yourself shown here. It is a fearful thing for you, who
are to teach men, to fall away from the truth, for how, then,
will you instruct sinful men aright ? If the blind attempt
to lead the blind both fall into a ditch, and if you your-
selves be wrong you cannot lead others, who know nothing
of it, to the salvation of the New Kingdom. You wiU both
go more and more hopelessly wrong, till, at last, you sink
into Gehenna. Those you teach cannot be wiser than you,
their teachers, for a disciple is not above his master, but
comes, at best, in the end, to be like him. If, then, you
would not be blind leaders of the blind, take care, before
you essay to judge and better the religious state of others,
to examine your own spiritual condition, and reform what-
ever is wrong in it.^^ Why should you mark the atom of »Liik66.w-4i,
straw or dust that is in your brother's eye — ^his petty fault —
if you do not, in your self-righteousness, see the beam that
is in your own eye ?®** Self-blinded hypocrite 1 first cast the •* g^l^SST
beam out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to JifiJ^lv?**

ITAlm M 511

caat the mote out of your brother's eye." dv^ m.

" You will meet with men," He continued, " who, when
the divine truth is ofiered them, wiU only profane it — ^men
utterly ungodly and hardened, who wilfully reject the
counsel of God, with blasphemy, mocking, and slandering.
Do not put it in their power to dishonour it. To do so is
like casting a holy thing to the street dogs, or throwing
pearls before wild swine, who would only trample them as
worthless under their feet, and turn against yourselves and

rend yOU."^'' ». SeeSennona

" You will need help firom God in your great task ; for mwher, lu.'
your own spiritual welfare, and for success in your work.
Ask, therefore, and it will be given you ; seek, and ye wiU
find ; knock, and it will be opened to you. For every one
that asks receives; and he that seeks finds; and to him
that knocks it shall be opened. If your son ask bread, do

86 THE LIFE 07 CHRIST.

OH. xxxyn. you mock him by giving him a stone ? or, if he ask a fish,
do you mock him by ^ving him a serpent ? or, if he ask an

*• Luken.u. egg, will you give him a scorpion ?®^^ You need, then, have
no fear of refusal of spiritual help from your Heavenly
Father, for if you who are sinful, though members of the
New Kingdom, would not think of refusing to supply the
wants of your children, far less will your Father above
refuse you. His spiritual children, what you need."

Jesus had now come to the close of His exposition of the
nature and duties of His kingdom, and ended His statement
of them by a brief recapitulation and summary of all He
had said of the latter, in their relation to men at large.
" All things, therefore, whatsoever ye would that men should
do to you, do ye also so to them, for this is the law and the
prophets." The Law had said, " Thou shalt love thy neigh-

w Lev. w. 18. hour as thyself, "^^ but it had meant by neighbour a Jew or
a proselyte, and had commanded the extirpation of the
Canaanites, and sanctioned mercUess war with the heathen
around. These grand words were, therefore, a rule for the
nation towards its own members, but no great law for man-
kind. But Jesus ignores this narrowness, and proclaims all
men brethren, as common children of one Father in Heaven.
This golden rule had been proclaimed more or less fully

•• B.a4M-«8. before. It is found in Socrates^® and Menander,®^ and even

" E^'^^J; ™ the Chinese classics.*^ Philo quotes, as an old Jewish say-
ing, " Do not to others what you would be unwilling to

« Oh. 4.M. suffer ;" and the book of Tobit *^ enjoins, " Do that to no man
which thou hatest."y In the generation before Jesus it had
been repeated by HiUel to a heathen, who mockingly asked
him if he could teach him the whole Law while he stood
on one foot. " What you would not like done to yourself,
do not to thy neighbour," replied the Rabbi — "this is the
whole Law : all the rest is a commentary on it — ^go learn

« nmdiLjMiia, this." ^ But, as Hillel gave it, this noble answer was only
misleading. It was striking to find a Rabbi with such
enlightened insight into the essence of the Law as to see
that all its ordinances and rites had a moral end, but the
Law was much more than a mere code of morals be-
tween man and man. Its fitting summary is much rather

THE PERORATION. 87

that central requirement repeated each day, even till now, oh. xxxvn.

by every Jew in his prayers — "Thou shalt love the Lord

thy God with all thine heart, and with all thy soul, and with

all thy might. "^ Morality, apart from its religious basis and « i>«it6.«.

supreme enforcement, degrades the Law to a level with the

common morality of the world at large.^* It was reserved" Hiiieiu.je>uB,

for Jesus to announce our duty to man in its subordination

to our higher relation to God ; to make it only part of that

filial love which reflects the tenderness on all our brethren

which it feels supremely towards their Father and ours, in

Heaven. With Him, love of universal humanity has its

deep religious ground in the love of God whom we are to

resemble, — towards all the race, as His children. The love of

man. He tells us, is the second great commandment; not

the first ;^ it is the moon shining by light borrowed from« Mukii

that Sun. The highest of the Rabbis cannot stand in the

presence of the Son of Mary 1 ^ «• lamy, i. m.

*^ •' Eebn, 11. 184.

He had reached His peroration. It remained only to bm^t.^i-
add solemn warnings, and these He now gave. " Enter in,**
asid He, " through the narrow gate,^^ for narrow is the gate « landwd
and straitened is the way of self-denial and struggle that JJJ^^^JjiS-
leads to life, and few there are that find it. But wide is the
gate and broad is the way of sin that leads to destruction,
and those who enter through it are many. Beware of false
teachers,^^ who would turn you aside fi'om the safe road. «• L'Anteohrtot,
They will come to you affecting to be my followers, but
they will be only wolves in sheep's clothing. You will know
them fully by their jfruits — ^that is, by their lives. Do men
gather grapes off thorns, or figs off thistles ? *^ So, every «» Trittnun, m,
good tree brings forth good fi'uit ; but the corrupt tree brings H««og. ^ ^
forth. evil finiit. The good, out of the good treasure of the
heart, bring forth that which is good ; and the evil man,
out of the evil, brings forth that which is evil ; for out of
the abundance of the heart his mouth speaks.^^ A good tree •• Lokee. 4«.
cannot bring forth evil fruit ; neither can a corrupt tree
bring forth good fruit. Have nothing to do with them, and
do not follow them, for every tree that brings not forth good
fruit is cut down, and cast into the fire. So, then, by their
fruits ye will know them fully."

88 THE UFE OF CHBI8T.

OH. xjuLva " Nor is the danger of being led astray by false teachers
light, for not all who acknowledge me as their Master will
enter into the glory of the heavenly Kingdom, but those only
who do the will of my Father, who is in heaven. Many will
say to me in that day, ^Lord, Lord, did we not teach in Thy
name confessing Thee as Jesus Messiah, and by the power
of Thy name cast out devils, and, by the same power, did
we not do many mighty works, owning Thee, and wwking
through Thee, in all things ? ' " And then shall I say unto
them, ' I never knew you ; depart from me, ye that work
iniquity.' Take warning, for even some of you call me Lord,
« wto«r,i«i. Lord,'^^ and do not the things which I say."^^

That one in the position of Jesus, an unknown Galila^an;
untrained in the schools ; in early manhood ; with no sup-
port from the learned or the powerful, should have used
such words, in a discourse so transcendently lofty in its
teachings, is to be explained only on the ground that He
spoke with a divine consciousness of being the Messiah, who
should hereafter be the Judge of mankind. He calmly
founds a kingdom in which the only rewards and punish-
ments are those of the conscience here, ' and those of eter-
nity, after death. He bears Himself, and speaks, as a King ;
supersedes or perfects the laws of the existing theocracy as
He thinks best ; invites adherents, but warns off aU except
the truly godly and sincere, by holding out the most dis-
couraging prospects through Ufe ; keeps aloof from the
civil or ecclesiastical authorities, and acts independently of
both. Finally, as the one law of His invisible kingdom in
the souls of men. He requires supreme love and devotion to
Himself, and demands that this be shown by humble and
continuous efforts after likeness to God, and by the imita-
tion of ■ His own pure and universal love to mankind. .To
have conceived a spiritual empire so unique in the history
of religion, is to have proved His title to His highest claims.

His concluding words are in keeping with these. He had
announced that He would judge the world at the great day,
and now makes hearty acceptance and performance of His
commands the condition of future salvation or ruin. ^^Every
one, therefore (now, or hereafter), who hears these sayings

A VIVID CONTRAST. 89

of mine and obeys them, is like a man, who, in buUding a oamvn.

house, digged deep, and laid a foundation upon the rock.

And the winter rains felL^ and the torrents rose, and the « Kdm, ii. 82.

' ' MAfet.7.9i— 27.

Storms blew, and beat upon that house, and did not shake Lake6.47-i9.
it, because it was well built, and had been founded upon the
rock. But every one who hears them, and does not obey
them, is like a foolish man, who, without a foundation, built
his house upon the sandy earth. And the rain descended,
and the torrents rushed down, and the winds blew, and beat
upon that house, and straightway it fell, and the ruin of that
house was great" •*

No wonder that when He had finished such an address,
the multitudes were astonished at His teaching. They had
been accustomed to the tame and slavish servility of the
Rabbis, with their dread of varying a word from precedent
and authority ; their cobwebbery of endless sophistries and
verbal trifling ; their laborious dissertations on the infinitely
little ; their unconscious oversight of all that could affect
the heart ; their industrious trackings through the jungles of
tradition and prescription ; and felt that in the preaching of
Jesus, they, for the first time, had something that stirred
their souls, and came home to their consciences. One of
the Rabbis had boasted that every verse of the Bible was
capable of six hundred thousand different explanations, and
there were seventy different modes of interpretation cur-
rent,*^ but the vast mass of explanations and interpretations m Ba«n.
were no better than pedantic folly, concerning itself with SS^kteB,
mere insignificant minutiae which had no bearing on reli- *«7.
^on or morals. Instead of this, Jesus had spoken as a
legislator, vested with greater authority than Moses. To
transmit, unchanged, the traditions received from the past,
was the one idea of all other teachers; but He, while
reverent, was not afraid to criticize, to reject, and to
supplement. To venture on originality, and independence
was something hitherto unknown.

The life of Jesus, in all its aspects, is the great lesson of
humanity : His death is its hope. But there lies a won-
drous treasure in His words. What but a pure and sinless
soul could have conceived such an idea of God as the

90 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

OH. xxxvn Father of mankind, drawing us to Himself by the attraction
of holy and exhaustless love ? " It could only rise," says
Hausrath, ^^ in a spirit that stood pure, guiltless, and sinless
before God — a spirit in which all human unrest and disturb-
ance were unknown, on which there lay no sense of the
littleness of life, no distracting feeling of disappointed am-
bition. Sinful man, with a stained or even uneasy conscience,
will always think of God as jealous, wrathful, and about
to avenge Himself The revelation that God is the Father
of men could rise only in a mind in which the image of
God mirrored itself in calm completeness, because the
mirror had no specks to mar it The revelation of God as
the Father is the strongest proof of the absolute perfection

•s HAuanth, I of the humau nature in Jesus." ^^

"He has left us not only a life, but a rich world of thoughts,"

-DwGe- says Keim,^^ "in which all the best inspirations and long-

chiirtM, 184. ings of mankind meet and are reflected. It is the expression

of the purest and directest truths which rise in the depths

of the soul, and they are made common to all mankind by

being uttered in the simplest and most popular form."

OPEN CONFIiICT. 91

CHAPTER XXXVIIL

OPEN OONPLIOT.

JESUS had now been some months in Galilee, and the ^- ^SE^
season of the great feasts had returned. It was meet
that Judea, which had rejected Him when He first preached
in it, should be once more visited, and the news of the King-
dom once more sent abroad among the throngs of pilgrims
from every part of the world, attracted at such times to
Jerusalem.

Leaving the north, therefore, for a time. He again jour-
neyed south ; perhaps by short stages, preaching as He went ;
perhaps with one of the bands of pilgrims which gathered
from each neighbourhood to go up to " the House of the
Lord." No voice would join with so rapt a devotion in
the joyful solemnities of such a journey, — in the psalms that
enlivened the way,— or the formal devotions of morning and
evening. But what feast it was He thus honoured is not .
told, nor are there means for deciding. That of Purim, a
month before the Passover, the Passover itself, Pentecost,
and the Feast of Tabernacles, have each found favour on
plausible groimds, but where there is such contrariety of
opinion, the safest course is to leave the matter unsettled.*

Of the visit we know only one incident,^ but it was the' John*. 1-47.
turning point in the life of Our Lord.

Jerusalem in those days was a contrast in its water supply,
as in much else, to the fallen glory of its present condition.
Several natural springs seem to have flowed in the city or
near it, in ancient times, but they have long been choked up,
with the exception of the single " Fountain of the Virgin,"
still found in the Kedron valley. There is now, besides, only
a single well — ^that of Joab, at the junction of the Kedron

92 THS UFB OF CHBIST.

OH. JuuLvig and Hinnom valleys, near Siloam, south-east from the town.
It was doubtless used in Christ's day, and it is still one
of the principal sources of summer supply for Jerusalem,
though, like everything else, under the withering spell of
Turkish rule, it is in such disrepair that its water, drawn
from a depth of 125 feet, is tainted with sewage. The ancient
supply, however, seems to have been mainly obtained by
collecting the rain water in pools and cisterns, and by aque-
ducts which drained distant hills, and brought abundance
into the various public pools and reservoirs of the city and
Temple,^ the space beneath which was honeycombed by
immense rock-hewn cisterns. Many houses, also, had cisterns,
hewn in the rock, in the shape of an inverted funnel, to
collect the rain, but it was from the numerous "pools" that
the public supply was mainly derived. Eight stiU remain,
in greater or less extreme decay, and there appear to have
been at least three others, in ancient times.

One of the most famous of these, in Christ's day, was
known as the Pool of Bethesda, which recent explorations
appear to have re-discovered at the north-west comer of the
Temple enclosure. If the identification be valid, the pool
was a great reservoir, 165 feet in length, hewn in the limestone
rock to a breadth of 48 feet, and divided in halves by a
pier of masonry 5 feet thick, built across it. Water still
enters it from the nortK-west corner, and is probably an abun-
dant spring, though now so mixed with drainage as to be
unfit for drinking. Eusebius speaks of the Bethesda of his
day as " twin pools, one of which is filled by the rains of the
year, but the other has water tinged in an extraordinary

2 onomMticon. Way with rcd." ^ This effect was likely produced by the

^2ienLi96. ^P^^ iuflux of watcr through underground channels, after

heavy rains. It is said by St. John to have been close to

the "Sheep Gate" — ^the entrance, doubtless, of the numerous

flocks for the Temple market.^

Bathing in mineral waters has, in all ages, been regarded as
one of the most potent aids to recovery from various diseases,
and in the East, where water is everything, this belief has

» VftihiBgw, to always prevailed.® The Pool of Bethesda, from whatever

Henog, 1 6*7. • . , •

cause, was in especial favour for its curative powers, which

THB POOL OF BSTHESBA. 93

were supposed to be most effective when the waters were oh. znvm.
" troubled, ** either by the discoloration after heavy rains, or
by periodical flowing after intermission, as is still the case
with the Fountain of the Virgin, near Siloam.^

Natural explanations of ordinary phenomena were unknown
in these simple times, for there was no such thing as science.
Among the Jews, as among other races, everything was
attributed to the direct action of supernatural beings. In
the Book of Jubilees,* which shows the popular ideas of * ^j^ see
Christ's day, there are angels of adoration, of fire, wind, ^HSiiiT.
clouds, hail, hoar frost, valleys, thunder, lightning, winter, "*
spring, summer, and autumn, and of ^^all things in the
heavens and earth, and in all valleys; of darkness, of light, of
dawn, and of evening." The healing powers of the Bethesda
waters were, hence, ascribed to periodical visits of an angel,
who "troubled the water." Popular fancy had, indeed,
created a complicated legend to account for the wonder. At
least as far back as the days of Nehemiah,^ the ebbing and • cbap. s. u.
flowing of some springs had been ascribed to a great dragon
which lived at the source, and drank up the waters when it
woke, leaving them to flow only while it was asleep. Itwaseven
said that a good angel dwelt beside healing springs, and each
morning gave them their virtue afresh, and a Rabbi had gone
so far as to report that, as he sat by a fountain, the good angel
who dwelt in it appeared to him, aiid said that a demon
was trying to get into it, to hurt those who frequented it.
He was, therefore, to go and teU the townsfolks to come
with hammers, or iron rods or bars,* and beat the water till* v*jic»,js4.
it grew red with thick drops of blood — the sign that the gjpHeb.uL
demon was conquered and slain.®

Some such fanciful notions, based, very probably, on real
curative powers in the water at certain seasons, attracted
daily to Bethesda a multitude of unfortunates who hoped to
be healed of blindness, atrophy, lameness, and otherinfirmities,
by bathing at the right moment a sufficient number of times.
Charity had built five porches round the pool, to afford the
crowd a shelter, and these, and the great steps leading down
to the waters, were constantly thronged, like the steps of a
sacred bathing-place to-day, on the Ganges.

94 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

oamvuL Among the sufferers was one who had been helplessly
crippled by rheumatism' or paralysis for thirty-eight years,
but still clung to the hope that he would, one day, be healed.
He had, apparently, had himself brought from a distant part,
for he had no friends on the spot, and, hence, had the pain
of many times seeing others, less helpless, crowd into the
waters, while he lay on his mat for want of some pitying
aid.

Jesus had every motive, at this time, to avoid attracting
attention in Jerusalem, for it might rouse the open hostility
of the Church authorities, which already only waited an
opportunity. The pitiful plight of the sufferer, however,
awoke His compassion, and in sympathy for his story, though
without committing Himself to his notions, he healed him
by a word, telling him to " rise, take up his sleeping-mat,
and walk."

The common feelings of humanity, one might have thought,
would have followed an act so tender and beautiful, with
admiration and hearty approval. But there is no crime that
may not be done by fanaticism allied to religious opinions ;
no deadness to true religion too profound for the champion-
ship of fancied orthodoxy. Pity, charity, recognition of
worth, or nobleness of act or word, give place to remorseless
hatred and bloodthirsty vengeance where there is religious
hatred. Inquisitors who sent thousands to the stake for an
abstract proposition, or immured them in dungeons, and
feasted on their torture for incapacity to repeat some
wretched Shibboleth, have been amiable and gentie in all
other relations. The hierarchical party in Jerusalem com-
prised men of all dispositions, and of every shade of sincerity,
and its opposite. But it had been touched in its tenderest
susceptibilities by the preaching of the Baptist ; for it had
been called to account, and had had its shortcomings held
up before the nation. The instinct of self-preservation, and
the conservatism of a priestly and legal order, were instantiy
roused, and assailed the Reformer with the cry that the Law
and the Temple were in danger. The Baptist had already
fallen ; most likely by their help ; but a successor more to be
dreaded, had risen in Jesus. They had watched His course

SABBATH STRICTNESS. 95

in Gralilee with anxiety, which had already shown itself orxxxviil
during His first short visit to Jerusalem at the Passover
before, and in His subsequent circuits through Judea.
Spies, sent from Jerusalem, dogged His steps and noted His
words and acts, to report them duly to the ecclesiastical
authorities, who had seen more clearly, day by day, that a
mortal struggle was inevitable between the old Theocracy
and the Innovator. Everything was in their favour. They
were in power, and could at any moment bring Him before
their own courts on trial, even for life. But they dreaded
overt hostility, and for a time preferred to undermine Him
secretly, by mooting suspicions among the people of His
being a heretic, or affecting to think Him a mere crazed
enthusiast. His most innocent sayings were perverted to
evil; His purest aims purposely misconstrued. Only the
favour of the people, and His own moderation, prudence,
and wisdom, warded off open violence.

He had now, however, given a pretext for more decided
action than they had yet taken. No feature of the Jewish
system waa so marked as their extraordinary strictness in
the outward observance of the Sabbath, as a day of entire
rest. The Scribes had elaborated from the command of
Moses, a vast array of prohibitions and injunctions, covering
the whole of social, individual, and public life, and carried
it to the extreme of ridiculous caricature. Lengthened
rules were prescribed as to the kinds of knots which
might legally be tied on Sabbath. The camel-driver s knot
and the sailor's were unlawful, and it was equally illegal to
tie or to loose them. A knot which could be untied with
one hand might be undone. A shoe or sandal, a woman's
cup, a wine or oil-skin, or a flesh-pot might be tied. A
pitcher at a spring might be tied to the body-sash, but not
with a cord.

It was forbidden to write two letters, either with the right
hand or the left, whether of the same size or of different
sizes, or with different inks, or in different languages, or
with any pigment; with ruddle, gum, vitriol, or anything
that can make marks ; or even to write two letters, one on
each side of a comer of two walls, or on two leaves of

96 THE UFB OF CHBIST.

cH-Ecvm. a writing-tablet, if they could be read together, or to write
them on the body. But they might be written on any dark
fluid, on the sap of a fruit-tree, on road-dust, on sand, or oh
anything in which the writing did not remain. If they
were written with the hand turned upside down, or with
the foot, or the mouth, or the elbow, or if one letter were
added to another previously made, or other letters traced
over, or if a person designed to write the letter n and only
wrote two t r , or if he wrote one letter on the ground and
one on the wall, or on two walls, or on two pages of a book,
so that they could not be read together, it was not illegal.
If a person, through forgetfulness, wrote two characters at
different times, one in the morning, the other, perhaps
towards evening, it was a question among the Rabbis
whether he had or had not broken the Sabbath.

The quantity of food that might be carried on Sabbath
from one place to another was didy settled. It must be less
in bulk than a dried fig : if of honey, only as much as
would anoint a wound ; if water, as much as would make
eye-salve ; if paper, as much as would be put in a phylactery ;

V sdbttrer, 490. if iuk, as much as would form two letters.^

To kindle or extinguish a fire on the Sabbath was a great
desecration of the day, nor was even sickness allowed to
violate Rabbinical rules. It was forbidden to give an emetic
on Sabbath — to set a broken bone, or put back a dislocated

• uschikbb. joint,^ though some Rabbis, more liberal, held that whatever

endangered life made the Sabbath law void, " for the com-
mands were ^ven to Israel only that they might live by

• LeT.18.5. them."^fi^ One who was buried under ruins on Sabbath,

might be dug for and taken out, if alive, but, if dead, he was
10 joa^ifuj. to be left where he was, till the Sabbath was over.^^

The holy day began with sunset on Friday, and ended
with the sunset of Saturday, but as the disappearance of the
sun was the only mark of the time, its commencement was
different on a hill-top and in a valley. If it were cloudy,
the hens going to roost was the signal. The beginning and
close of the Sabbath were announced by a trumpet from the
Temple, and in the different towns. From the decline of
the sun on Friday, to its setting, was Sabbath-eve, and no

THE SABBATH DAY JOITKNBT. 97

work whicli would continue into the hours of Sabbath, oh.xxxvul
could be done in this interval. All food must be prepared,
all vessels washed, and all lights kindled, before sunset. The
money girdle must be taken off, and all tools laid aside.
" On Friday, before the beginning of the Sabbath," said one
law, " no one must go out of his house with a needle or a
pen, lest he forget to lay them aside before the Sabbath
opens. Every one must also search his pockets at that time,
to see that there is nothing left in them with which it is
forbidden to go out on the Sabbath. "^^ The refinements of u omcb

-r^ • . • rn Ohajfan, ed.

Rabbinical casuistry were, indeed, endless. To wear one wwe,p.M.

kind of sandals was carrying a burden, while to wear another

kind was not. One^ight carry j, burden on his shoulder, ^^^ua/- ^6h- ^.e^^eA^.

but it must not be slunff between two.^^ It was un- » orig«n; ^- yf^-^<^

o ^ qaoted by -^r^^c^^ttt^vx-dm^

lawful to go out with wooden sandals or shoes which had <*ft*»«. *• i®- .gfj^

nails in the soles, or with a shoe and a slipper, unless one (^r^^^^ht^^ CJ^^- -^ /f

foot were hurt.^* It was unlawful for any one to carry a « Miechna,

loaf on the public street, but if two carried it, it was not *•'*•

unlawful.^* The Sabbath was believed to prevail in all its " awjr«r,Li8.

strictness, from eternity, throughout the universe. All the

Rabbinical precepts respecting it had been revealed to Jacob

from the originals on the tablets of heaven.^^ Even in hell »» Rd. juml

the lost had rest from their torments on its sacred hours,

and the waters of Bethesda might be troubled on other days,

but were still and unmoved on this.^^^ '• sepp,iT.86.

In an insincere age such excessive strictness led to constant
evasions by Pharisees and Sadducees alike. To escape the
restrictions which limited a journey on Sabbath to 2,000
cubits from a town or city, they carried food on Friday
evening to a spot that distance beyond the walls, and
assumed, by a fiction, that this made that spot also their
dwelling. They could thus on the Sabbath walk the fuU
distance to it, and an equal distance beyond it, this journey
being only the legal distance from the fictitious place of
residence I ^^ To make it lawful to eat together on the " Dermboms
Sabbath the Rabbis put chains across the two ends of a
street, in which the members of a special fraternity lived,
and called it a single dwelling, while to excuse their carrjing
the materials of their Sabbath repast to the common hall,

VOL. n. 46

98 THB LIFE OF CHRIST.

OB. xxxvm. they each laid some food in it on Friday evening, to create
the fiction of its being part of the common dwelling. The
priestly Sadducees, on the other hand, made no scruple to
have even the beasts destined for their kitchen driven to
their shambles on the Sabbath, on the pretext that their
common meak were only a continuation of the Temple
service, by which the rest of the Sabbath was not legally
broken.

Nor were such equivocations the only liberties taken with
the sacred day, for, however uncompromising with others,
the Pharisees were disposed to violate the Sabbath laws
when occasion demanded. They had one maxim, timidly
applied it is true, but still theirs : ** The Sabbath is for you,
but you are not for the Sabbath ; " and another, stiU bolder,
" Make a common day of your Sabbath rather than go to

18 DaraDboaift your neighbour for help.''^®

The priests and Rabbis, thus secretly indulgent to them-
selves, but austerely strict before the world, found an
opportunity in the cure at Bethesda for parading their
hollow puritanism, and at the same time raising a charge
against Jesus, for the man had been healed on the Sabbath,

» 8-pi«e9i and had been told to carry his sleeping-mat" with him to
his home. This was enough. Met in the street, carrying
his pallet, by one of these purists, he had been reprimanded
for doing so as contrary to the Law, and had shielded himself
by the command of Him who had miraculously cured him.
It was not till some time after, when Jesus had come upon
him in the Temple, that he knew the name of his benefactor,
for Jesus had hurried away from the pool, after curing him,
to avoid exciting the multitude round.

It seems from the caution given him at this second
meeting, to "sin no more, lest something worse should
befall him," as if the man had brought his infirmity on him-
self by misconduct. Nor did his after-conduct do him
much credit. He had no sooner discovered the fact than he
went to the officials and told who had healed him. From
that moment the doom of Jesus was fixed. Pharisee and
Sadducee, Rabbi and priest, forgetting their mutual hatreds,
caballed, henceforth, to fasten such accusations upon Him

THE AUTHORITIES TAKE ACTION. 99

as would secure His death, and never faltered in their oaxxxym.
resolve till they carried it out, two years later, on Calvary.

Jesus seems forthwith to have been for the first time cited
before the authorities, on the formal charge of Sabbath-
breaking; but His judges were little prepared for the tone of
His defence. Left to aaswer for Himself, He threw the
assembly into a paroxysm of religious fury by claiming to
work at all times for the good of men, since it was only what
God, His Father, had done, notwithstanding the Sabbath
Law, from the beginning. As His Son, He was as little
to be fettered by that Law or subject to it, and was Lord of
the Sabbath. The assembly saw what this implied. He
had added to His Sabbath desecration the higher crime of
blasphemously " making Himself equal with God, by calling
Him specially* His father." ^^ The excitement must have • John «. w.
been great, for Orientals give free vent to their feelings,
under any circumstances. Some years after, the same
tribunal, with the crowd of spectators, gnashed their teeth
at the martyr Stephen in their infuriated bigotry, and cried
out with loud voices, and stopped their ears at his words.^^ « Acts 7. h 57.
In all probability a similar storm rose around Jesus now.
But He remained perfectly calm, and when silence was in a
measure restored, proceeded with His defence against this
second charge.

He did not for a moment deny that they were right in
the meaning they put on His words, but stated more fuUy
why He used them. It was impossible for Him to act inde-
pendently of His Father; He could only do so if He were not
His Son. There was absolute oneness in the spirit and aim
of the works of both, as in those of a son who looks with
reverence at the acts of a Father, and has no thought but
to reproduce them. " My Father, God, in His love for me,
the Son, lays ever open before me, in direct self-disclosure,
all that He Himself does, that I may do the same. You
marvel at my healing the lame man, but the Father will
show me greater works than this, that I may repeat them
here on earth, and that you may wonder, not in curiosity as
now, but in shame at your unbelief."

"Let me tell you," He continued, " what these greater works

100 THE MFB OF CHBIST.

OH. xjULvm. are. In your Law it is the special prerogative of the Father
« Deot W.89. to awaken and quicken the'deacL^^ but it is mine also, for L

1 Sun. «. 6. * ^ ^ ' '

I^^J^j the Son, quicken whom I wilL And as to judging men
ie?i8r°* here (as to their spiritual state), it is left to me alone by my
Father, that all men may honour me as His representative,
as they honour Him. He who does not honour me, the
Son, does not honour the Father who sent me. If you wish
to know whom I spiritually quicken, they are those who
hear my word, and believe Him who sent me, for they have
everlasting life even here, and are not under condemnation,
but have passed from death to life. Verily, verily, I say
unto you. The hour is coming, and now is, when the
(spiritually) dead will hear my voice — ^the voice of the Son
of God, and they that hear it shall live. I thus wake them
to life, because the Father has made me the divine fountain
of life, as He Himself, the living God, is. He has also given
me authority to judge men, because I am the Son of man.

" But marvel not at what I have said of waking and
judging the spiritually dead, for I will do yet greater works.
I shall one day raise the actually dead from their graves,
and will judge them at the great day, raising those that did
good in this world to the resurrection of life, and those
that did evil to a resurrection of judgment. Nor is there a
fear of error, for I can do nothing of myself. I judge as I
hear from God, who, in His abiding communion with me,
makes known His divine judgment, which, alone, I utter.
Hence my judgment cannot err, because I speak only that
of God.

" You may say that I am bearing witness respecting my-
self, and that, therefore, it is of no value, but, if you think
thus, there is another that bears witness to me, and ye know
that His testimony is true — I mean God, Himself. You
sent to John, and he bore witness to the truth. But the
testimony I receive is not that of man. I only say these
things that you may be saved, by taking John's testimony to
heart, and being waked by it to faith in Me, and a share in
the salvation which, as the Messiah, I offer you. What a
wondrous appearance John was ! He was a burning and
shining lamp, and you wished for a time to rejoice in his

JESUS MAKES HIS DEFENCE. 101

light, but when you found that he called you to repentance oaxxxviiL
rather than to national glory and worldly prosperity, you
forsook him and became his enemies. The light he shed was
not of the kind you desired.

" But I have a witness which is greater than that of John.
The work which the Father has given me to bring to
completion — ^the work of founding and raising the new
kingdom of God, as His Messiah, — this, in all that it implies
of outward and spiritual wonders, bears witness that the
Father has sent me. And not only does God Himself testify
of me indirectly, by my work as His Messiah : He does so
directly, in your Scriptures. But ye have not recognized
the voice of this testimony, nor realized the image of me it
presents. You are spiritually deaf to the one, and blind to
the other. Ye have not the true sense of God's word in
your consciences, for you do. not believe in His Messiah,
whom He has sent, and of whom these Scriptures testify.
They witness to me as tl^e mediator of eternal life, and,
therefore, every one who humbly studies them as the guide
to that life, will be pointed by them to me. You search
the Scriptures professing to wish to find life, and yet
refuse to accept me! How self-contradictory and self-
condemning!

"I do not reproach you thus, from any feeling of
wounded pride, for I care nothing for the applause of men.
I do it because I know the ground of your disbelief — ^you
have not the love of God in your hearts. If you had, you
would recognize and receive His Son whom He has sent. I
have come in my Father's name, as His commissioned repre-
sentative— the true Messiah — and you have rejected me
with unbelieving contempt, but when a false Messiah comes
in his own name, you will receive him I It is no wonder
you have rejected me, for how is it possible that such as
you could believe, who have no higher craving than to
give and accept empty earthly honours, and are indifferent
to the only true honour that comes from being acknowledged
and praised of God ?

" You trust in Moses, who, you think, has promised you
favour with God, here and hereafter. Beware ! there is no

102 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

oa xxxvnL need that I should accuse you before my Father, for your
unbelief in me. Moses, himself, in the books in which you
trust, is your accuser, for if ye had believed His writings ye
would have believed me, for he wrote of me. But if ye be
so blinded as neither to see, nor to believe his writings, how
will ye believe my words ?"

The authorities had never had such a prisoner before
them. They knew not what to do with Him, and, in their
confusion and utter defeat^ could only let Him depart un-
harmed. They had not yet summoned courage to proceed
to open violence.

This was the turning point in the life of Jesus. Till now,
He had enjoyed a measure of toleration and even of accept-
ance, but, henceforth, all was changed. Jerusalem was no
longer safe for Him, and, even in Galilee, He was dogged by
« loiioott, itt. determined enmity.^^ The shadow of the Cross darkened
His whole future career.

Free from His enemies, Jesus appears to have returned at
once to Galilee, in the hope, perhaps, that there, far from
'Jerusalem, with its fierce religious fanaticism and malevolent
hypocrisy, He could breathe more freely, in the still and
clear air of the hills. But religious hatred is beyond all
others intense and persistent. There were Rabbis and
priests there, as well as in the south, and they watched His
every step.

A fresh occasion for accusation could not be long of
rising. He had left Jerusalem immediately after the Pass-
over, and on the Sabbath after the second day of the
•• Bw»idi Feast ^ — or, it may be, a Sabbath later ^ — a new charge was
»2d Lex. V. brought against Him. In the short distance which it was
f^ i^!^ lawful to walk on a Sabbath — ^less than three-quarters of a
MMk«.' mile^ — ^the patl\lay through ripening fields of barley — ^for
Luke 6. 1-^. Nisan, the Passover month, was the ancient Abib, or month
of earing, and the first early sheaf was offered on the second
day of the Passover. It was by the Law, and by Eastern
custom, free to all to pluck ears enough in a corn-field, or
« LMidaiHi grapes enough from a vine, to supply hunger,^' and the
E?Sd'8Ait disciples, as every Oriental still does in the same circum-

248b Lev. 19.

ii>-52°^Mu stances, availed themselves of this liberty, plucking some
Botha!).

SPIES AKB INTORMEBS. 103

ears of the barley, and rubbing them with their hands as oa xxxvin.

they went on. The field must have been near some town,

most likely Capernaum, for a number of people were about^

and among others, some spies.™ It was no wonder both He

and the disciples were hungry, for no Jew could break his

fast till after the morning service at the synagogue, or take

supper till after the evening service, but He had sanctioned

two offences against the Sabbath laws. The plucking the

ears was a kind of reaping, and the rubbing was a kind of

grinding or threshing. Besides, it was required that all food

should be prepared on Friday, before sunset, and the rubbing

was a preparation."* On any other day there would have

been no cause of blame, but to break the Sabbath rather

than suffer hunger for a few hours, was guilt worthy of

stoning.^ Was it not their boast that Jews were known,

over the world, by their readiness to die rather than break

the holy day ? Every one had stories of grand fidelity to it.

The Jewish sailor had refused, even when threatened with

death, to touch the helm a moment after the sun had set on

Friday, though a storm was raging ; and had not thousands

let themselves be butchered rather than touch a weapon

in self-defence on the Sabbath ? The " new doctrine " of

Jesus would turn the world upside down^^ if not stopped ! « achu. &

The spies of the hierarchical party, who had seen the
offence, at once accused Him for allowing it, but His
answer only made matters worse. He reminded them how
David, when pressed by hunger, in his flight from Saul,
had eaten the holy bread and given it to his followers,
though it was not lawful for any but priests to eat it.^^P«f iaun.2i.a.
Did that not show that the claims of nature overrode those
of a ceremonial rule ? that the necessity of David and his
followers was to be considered before the observance of a
tradition ? The law of nature came from God ; the theo-
cratic prohibition was of man. "And have you not read in
the Law,"^ added He, " how the priests work at their duties » Komiksa. st
on the Sabbath, and yet are held blameless, though they are
in fact breaking the holy day, if your traditions and rules
are to be the unbending standard ? ^ What is lawful for the
servants of the Temple to do on Sabbath must much more

104 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

oH-xxxviiL be lawful for my servants to do on that day, for I am
greater than the Temple. You condemn my disciples
because your thoughts are so fixed on outward rites that
you have forgotten how God thinks less of them than of

» Hob. 6. 6. acts of mcFcy^ Does He not say,^^ ' I will have mercy and not
sacrifice V It is in your want of mercy that you accuse my
followers. They have, besides, acted under my authority.
The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath,
as even the Pharisees allow, and therefore, in any case, its
laws must give way before human necessities. But I, the
Son of Man — ^the representative of man as man — the Messiah
of God — am still higher than any individual man and above
all your Sabbath laws."

Such a retort and such transcendent claims may well have
startled His accusers, but they only deepened their hatred,
for bigotry is blind and deaf to any reason. Charge was
• being added to charge, accusation to accusation. He had
claimed the power to forgive sins ; He had associated with
publicans and sinners ; He had shown no zeal for washings
or fasts, and, now. He had, a second time, openly desecrated
the Sabbath.

His defence had only made His position towards the Phari-
saic laws more antagonistic than ever, for it had denied that
they were unconditionally binding. Their authority depended
on circumstances : they were not owned as directly divine.
God had plant-ed a higher, law in the human breast, and the
system of the Rabbis must yield before it. He had virtually
alleged that the time was come to free Israel from the yoke
of traditional observance, and to raise a new spiritual king-

» schenkei,87. dom OH the imperishable basis of truly divine law.^^ By
their system man was subordinated to the Sabbath, not the
Sabbath to man. This harshness was not the design or will
of God. The Sabbath had been given by Him for the good
of man, and was to be a day of refreshment, peace, and joy,
not of pain, sorrow, and terror. Jesus, therefore, proclaimed
expressly that man is greater than the Sabbath, in direct
contradiction to the Pharisaic teaching, which made the
Sabbath of immeasurably greater worth than man. Man,
and still more Himself, as the representative of humanity, in

THE SABBATH QUESTION AQAIK. 105

its abiding dignity and rights — the Son of Man — ^is the oH-mvin.
Lord of the Sabbath. It was a proclamation of spiritual
freedom.

The lowering schoolmen of the day, and the priestly party,
felt themselves threatened in their most cherished hopes,
wishes, and interests. The breach between them and Jesus
had been final, since His half-contemptuous words about the
old garment and the old bottles. They had marked Him,
definitely, as opposed to traditional Rabbinism, as a danger-
ous agitator, and an enemy of the venerated " Hedge of the
Law," the glory of successive generations of Rabbis. The
hierarchy would at once have indicted Him publicly, but for
His wide popularity ; the devotion felt for Him by the multi-
tudes He had healed or comforted ; the transparent singleness
of His aims and labours ; the gentleness and dignity of His
character, which enforced reverence ; and His divine humility
and lowliness of heart,*^ which made Him so unassailable. " schenkei. 89.

The synagogues were, as yet, open to Him, and He still
frequented them, for the facilities they ofiered of teaching
the people. Another violation of the Pharisaic laws of the
Sabbath soon followed, in one of the services. He had gone
to the synagogue, and was teaching in it, when He noticed a
man ^^ whose right hand, withered by long-standing local « !&«. 12.
paralysis and its consequent atrophy,^ hung helpless by his wL-k's. i-«.
side. Meanwhile, the Scribes and other Pharisees, no w » Biboi Lex. il

• 686.

constantly on the watch against Him, sat with keen eyes to
see if he would venture to break their Sabbath laws once
more, by healing the sufierer, who could claim no help till
the sacred day was over, as he was in no immediate danger
of life. Their fine-spun casuistry had elaborated endless
rules for the treatment of all maladies on the sacred day.
A person in health was not to take medicine on the Sabbath.
For the toothache, vinegar might be put in the mouth, if it
were afterwards swallowed, but it must not be spat out
again. A sore throat must not be gargled with oil, but the oil
might be swallowed. It was unlawful to rub the teeth with
sweet spice for a cure, but, if it were done to sweeten the
breath, it was permitted. No fomentations, Ac, could be
put to affected parts of the body.®* One prohibition I must •• hot. Heb. h.

106 THE UPB OF CHBIST.

0H.xxxvm. give in Latin. "Qui pediculum occidit sabb. idem est ac
si occideret camelum." The school of Schammai held it
unlawful to comfort the sick, or visit the mourner on the
Sabbath, but the school of Hillel permitted it.

It was clear, therefore, that, if any cure of the withered
hand were attempted, there would be ground for another
formal charge of Sabbath-breaking, which brought with it
death by stoning.

But Jesus never feared to do right. No thought of self
ever came between Him and His witness to the truth.
Looking over at His enemies, as they sat on the chief seats,
He read their hearts, and felt that fidelity to the very law
which His expected action would be held to have broken,
demanded that that act be done.

His whole soul was kindled with righteous anger and
sorrow at the hardness which forced conscience to be silent,
rather than confess the truth. It was needful that such
hollowness and wilful perversity should be exposed. As the
Son of God — ^the Messiah — sent to found a kingdom of pure
spiritual religion. He felt that the wisdom of the schools,
priestly mediation, sacrifices. Temple rites, and Sabbath
laws, were only a glittering veil, which shut out the know-
ledge of eternal truth, alike towards God and towards man.
He had taught and healed, announced the kingdom of spirit
and truth, cheered the poor, reproved sinners, lifted the
humble from the dust, and gathered the godly round
Himself. Dull, mechanical obedience to worthless forms ; or
love, from the fulness of the heart, was now the question, in
religion and morals. Should true religion be spread, or

»soh«nkd,9i. crror confirmed ?^^ Should He silently let blinded men
fancy their blind leaders right, or should He brave all, to
open their eyes and lead them into the true ways of His
Father ? Looking at the paralyzed man. He bade him rise
from the floor, on which, -with the rest of the congregation,

« Bchoi«r,4tf. he had been sitting,^^ and stand forth in the midst, and, on
his doing so, in ready obedience to one so famous, turned
once more to the scowling Rabbis on the dais. " Is it lawful
on the Sabbath days," He asked them, "to do good, or to do
evil, to save life, or to destroy it ? " But they held their

THE WITHEBED ARM. 107

peace, fearing they might commit themselves by answering 0H.xjuLvm.
without careful reflection. " It is allowable, is it not," He
resumed, " to lay hold on a sheep which has fallen into a pit
on the Sabbath day, and help it out ? ^^ How much then, is » Har.Heb.u.
a man better than a sheep ? Wherefore it is lawful to do
well on the Sabbath." ^' Stretch forth thy hand," said He,
continuing, to the sufierer; — ^and the hand which, till then,
had hung wasted and lifeless at his side, was healthy and
strong as the other.

Jesus felt the significance of the moment. He felt that
the silence of His accusers was not from conviction, but
sullen obstinacy, which had shut its ears against the truth.
He felt that, between him and the leaders of the nation, there
was henceforth a hopeless separation. They had finally
rejected Him, and could henceforward only seek His destruc-
tion. Their fanaticism, now fairly roused, forgot all minor
hatreds, and united the hostile factions of the nation in
common zeal for His destruction. No parties could be
more opposed than the nationaUsts or Pharisees, and the
Friends of Rome"^ gathered round Herod Antipas at Tiberias,
but they now united to hunt Jesus to the death. The
alliance boded the greatest danger, for it showed that, in
addition to religious fanaticism. He had now to encounter
the suspicion of designing political revolution. The Church
and the State had banded together to put " the deceiver of
the people " out of the way as soon as possible.

It had been inevitable from the first that it should be so.
The Jerusalem party expected the "Salvation of Israel"
firom the unconditional restoration of the theocracy, with
themselves at its head, and fi:om the strictest enforcement of
outward legal observances. While the contrast between
Judaism and heathenism was, meanwhile, intensified and
embittered to the utmost, they hoped before long to crush
Rome, or perish in the attempt. They would have greeted
any one who proved able to impose their law, in all its
strictness, on mankind, — as a deliverer, as the stem from the
root of David, as the Saviour and Messiah. In Jesus, on the
contrary, there appeared one who, while constraining their
wonder at His lofty morality and spiritual greatness, was

108 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

oH.xxxvm. the very opposite of all they wished and hoped. He claimed
to be the Messiah, but His ideal of the Messiahship was the
antithesis of that of the Rabbis and priesthood. He had
announced Himself as the founder of a new theocracy more
spiritual and more holy than that of Moses. He had thrown
a new light on the Scriptures ; had revealed God in a new
aspect — as no mere national deity, but the Father of all
mankind, and He had taught the most startling novelties as
to the freedom of the individual conscience. The Rabbis
had enjoyed, as their exclusive prerogative, the exposition
of Scripture, but now found themselves dethroned by the
* religious freedom Jesus had proclaimed, and He had even
spoken 'of them as a hindrance of true knowledge. The spirit
of His teaching compromised the whole state of things in the
religious world. He proclaimed a new future : the vested
rights of the day clung to the past, with which their in-
terests and their passions were identified.

The new wine was thus already bursting the old
bottles, and the result could not be doubtful. Conservatism
felt itself imperilled, for it had been weighed, and fbund
wanting. The priesthood had become a dividing wall be-
tween God and Israel. The religious decay of the nation
found in it its expression. The sacrifices were mere out-
ward forms ; the Temple, notwithstanding the glory with
which Herod's love of magnificence and hypocritical piety
had adorned it, was a symbol of exclusiveness, intolerance,
and hatred of humanity at large ; the high officialism of the
day, a dam against every reform, every breath of fresh
religious thought, and every attempt at a purer spiritual

» ScheDkdtL lifc,^

9a

GAIiILEE. 109

CHAPTER XXXIX

GAULEE.

THE opposition of ♦ the Rabbis and priests, however ohap. xyxtx.
malignant and fixed, was as yet confined to secret
plottings.^ With the people at large, Jesus continued even » J£i|*i"-
increasingly popular. It was advisable, however, to avoid MMk8.7.i2.
any pretext for overt hostility, and hence He withdrew from
Capernaum for a time, on another mission to the towns and
villages on the edge of the Lake, till the storm, in a measure,
blew over. To the chagrin of his enemies, the multitudes
attracted to see and hear Him were larger than ever. The
excitement was evidently spreading through all Palestine,
for numbers stUl continued to come fi'om Jerusalem and
Idumea on the south ; from Perea and Decapolis and other
parts on the east, and even from the heathen district round
Tyre and Sidon on the north. There were many Jews
settled in every part of the land, and the concourse was no
doubt of such almost exclusively. It was even found neces-
sary that a boat should attend Him, as He journeyed along
the shore, that He might betake Himself to it when the
throng grew oppressive. Miraculous cases in great number
increased the excitement, many who crowded round Him
finding relief by touching even His clothes, and unclean
spirits falling down before Him in involuntary confession of
His being the Son of God. But though His pity would not
refuse to heal any who came, He still sought to avoid the
ofience of too great notoriety, by requiring secrecy. His
gentle and imostentatious progress was in such vivid con-
trast to the noisy and disputatious ways of the Rabbis, that
St. Matthew saw in it a fulfilment of the Messianic visions
of Isaiah, for He did not strive, nor cry aloud, nor was His

110 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

cHAFjQcnx. voice heard in the streets, and in His tender gentleness He
would not break a bruised reed, or quench even the smoking

t iiai«h49.i-«. flax.^

The Gospels do not enable us to follow any chronological
sequence in the incidents recorded by them, of these months
of our Lord's ministry, but it must have been about this
time, perhaps on His return to Capernaum, from this mis-
sion, that we must date one of the most interesting of their

» ifott 8. s-18. narratives.® He had scarcely reached home, after His cir-
cuit, when a deputation of " the elders of the Jews " waited
on Him. They were the foremost men in the Capernaum
community — the governing body of the sjTiagogue, and, as
such, the Jewish magistrates of the town. It is the habit
in the East to send such embassies when any request is to
be made or invitation given with circumstances of special

• und and rcspcct,* but thcrc was a feature in this case that made it

Book. 211

very unusual. The members of the deputation, though
Jewish ecclesiastical officials, came as the representatives of
a heatl\en, possibly of a Samaritan. Lying on the edge of
his territory, Herod Antipas kept a small garrison in Caper-
naum, and this, at that time, was under command of a
centurion, who, like many of the better heathen of the day,
had been drawn towards Judaism by its favourable contrast
with idolatry. He had shown his sympathy with the nation,
and his generous spirit, in a way then not uncommon among
» u i8 called rfcj the Wealthy, by building a synagogue^ in the town — ^per-
JSj^uy^ ^^P^ *^^*' ^^ which the massive ruins still remain.^ One of
SUui^i^ his slaves had been struck with a paralytic affection, and

• BW.824. ^^ ^^st sinking ; and with a tenderness that did him infinite

honour in an age, when a slave, with many masters, and
even in the eye of the Roman law,* was treated as a mere
chattel, he prayed Jesus, through the Jewish elders,^ to heal
him. Their request was at once complied with, and Jesus
forthwith set out with them to the centurion's quarters.

But the zeal of the messengers had outrun their commis-
sion, for, as Jesus approached the house, a second deputation
met Him, to deprecate His being put to so much trouble,
and to apologize, by an humble expression of the centurion's
sense of his un worthiness of the honour of such an One

THE CBNTUKION's SLAVE. Ill

coming under his roof. He, himself, appears to have fol- oharxxxix
lowed, as if it had been too great a liberty to approach Jesus
except at the distance of two mediations. " Lord," said he,
" trouble not Thyself; for I am not worthy that Thou
shouldest enter under my roof. Wherefore, neither thought
I myself worthy to come to Thee ; but say in a word, and
my servant shall be healed. For I, also, am a man set under
authority (and render obedience to my superiors), and have
soldiers under me, and I say to this one. Go, and he goes ;
to another. Come, and he comes ; and to my servant. Do
this, and he does it. If, therefore. You indicate Your plea-
sure only by a word, the demons who cause diseases will at
once obey You and leave the sick man, for they are under
Your authority® as my servants are under mine."

Faith so clear, undoubting, and humble, had never before
cheered the heart of Jesus, even from a Jew, and, coming as it
did from the lips of a heathen, it seemed the first-fruits of a
vast harvest, outside the limits of the Ancient People. He had
found a welcome in Samaria when rejected in Judea; and now
it was from a heathen He received this lowly homage. The
clouds that had lain over the world through the past seemed
to break away, and a new earth spread itself out before His
soul. The kingdom of God, rejected by Israel, would be
welcomed by the despised Gentile nations. " Verily," said
He, " I tell you, I have not found so great faith, no, not in
Israel And I say unto you that many shall come from the
east and the west, and lie down at the table of God in the
kingdom of the Messiah, as honoured guests, with Abraham,
Isaac, and Jacob, while the Jcav, who prided himself on
being, by birth, the child of the heavenly kingdom, and
despised all others, as doomed to sit in the darkness outside
the banquet haU of the Messiah, will have to change places
with them 1 " To His hearers such language would speak
with a force to be measured only by their fierce pride and
intolerance. To share a grand banquet with the patriarchs
in the Messianic kingdom, was a favourite mode with the
Jews of picturing the blessedness that kingdom would
bring. " In the future world," they made God say, in one
of their Rabbinical lessons, " I shall spread for you Jews a

112 THE LIFB OP CHRIST.

cHAP^xxxix. great table, which the Gentiles will see and be ashamed." ^
' sS^hSl*" But now the rejection and despair are to be theirs ! The
contrast between Jesus and the Rabbis was daily becoming
more marked, for now He adds to all else a grand vision of
a universal religion, and of a kingdom of the Messiah, no
longer national, but sending a welcome to all humanity who
will submit to its laws.

" Go thy way," added He, to the centurion, " and as thou
hast believed, so be it done to thee." And his slave was
healed in that very hour.

He had apparently left Capernaum the same day, for we
find Him, the next, at a village called Nain, twenty-five
miles to the south-west, on the northern slope of " Little
Hermon, a clump of hills at the eastern end of the great
plain of Esdraelon. It was still the early and popular time
of His ministry, and crowds followed Him wherever He
appeared. Nain, which is now a poor and miserable hamlet,
inhabited only by a few fanatical Mahometans, may then
have deserved its name — the beautiful. The only antiquities
about it are some tombs hewn in the hiUs, seen as you
approach, beside the road, which winds up, to the village.
The presence of the Prince of Life, with a throng of
disciples and followers, might well have banished thoughts
of sadness, but shadows everywhere lie side by side with
the light. As He came near, another procession met Him,
descending from Nain, the dismal sounds rising from it,
even at a distance, telling too plainly what it was. Death
had been busy under these blue summer skies, and its prey
was now being borne, amidst the wail of the mourner, to its
last resting-place. A colder heart than that of Jesus would
have been touched, for it was a case so sad that the whole
town had poured forth to show its sj^npathy with the
broken heart that followed next the bier.^ It was the funeral
of a young man, the only son of a widow, now left in that
saddest of all positions to a Jew — to mourn alone in the deso-
lated home in which he had died, doubtless only a very few
hours before.® Moved with the pity at all times an instinct
with Him, Jesus could not let the train sweep on. It
was not meet that death should reap its triumph in His

EAISING THE WIDOW's SON. 113

presence. Stepping towards the poor mother, He dried up the ohapjkxdl
fountain of her tears by a soft appeal. "Weep not," said
He, and then moved to the bier, careless of the defilement
which would have made a Rabbi pass as far as He could
from the dead. Touching it, those who bore the body at
once stood stiU. It was, doubtless, a mere open frame, like
that stiU used for such purposes in Palestine. "Young
man," said He, " I say unto thee. Arise." It was enough.
*' He that was dead sat up and began to speak. And He
delivered him to his mother."

It was at Shunem, now Solani,^ a village on the other side % smith's Bibie
of the very hill on which Nain stood, that Elisha had raised ^*'^'°^-
the only son of the lady who had hospitably entertained
him; and the luxuriant plain of Jezreel, stretching out
beneath, had been the scene of the greatest events in the life
of Elijah, who had raised to life the son of the widow in the
Phenician village of Sarepta, on the far northern coast. No
prouder sign of their greatness as prophets had lingered in
the mind of the nation than such triumphs over the grave,
and in no place could such associations have been more rife
than in the very scene of the life of both. At the sight of
the young man once more alive, the memory of Elijah and
Elisha was on every lip, and cries rose on aU sides that a
great prophet had again risen, and that God had visited His
people. Nor did the report confine itself to these upland
regions. It flew far and near to Judea in the south, and
even to the remote Perea.

For now, six months; it may be for more than a year,* the
Baptist — the one man hitherto recognized, in these days,
as a prophet, had lain a prisoner in the dungeons of
Machaerus — doubtless, in hourly expectation of death —
a man, young in years, but wasted with his own fiery zeal,
and now by the shadows of his prison-house. But Antipas
had not yet determined what to do with him. Shielding
him from the fury of Herodias, and yet dreading to let him
go free,^ he still suffered him, as Felix permitted Paul long • AetiM^ss.
afterwards, at CaBsarea, to receive visits from his disciples,
as if almost ashamed to confine one so blameless. The
rumours of Christ's doings had thus, all along, reached the

VOL. n. 47

114 THE UFE OF CHRIST.

oHAP.xxxrs. lofty castle where he lay, and, doubtless, were the one great
subject of his thought and conversation. As a Jew, he had
clung to Jewish ideas of the Messiah, expecting, apparently,
a national movement which would establish a pure theo-
cracy, under Jesus. Why had He left him to languish
in prison? Why had He not used His supernatural powers
to advance the kingdom of God ?

To solve such questions, which could not be repressed,
two of his disciples were deputed to visit Jesus, and learn
from Himself whether He was, indeed, the Messiah, or
whether the nation should still look for another? From
first to last, more than sixty claimants of the title were to
rise. John might weU wonder if the past were not a dream,
and Jesus only a herald like himself. He had everything
to depress him. A child of the desert, accustomed to its
wild freedom, he was now caged in a dismal fortress, with
no outlook except black lava-crags, and deep gorges, yawn-
ing in seemingly bottomless depths. Burning with zeal, he
found himself set aside as if forgotten of God, or of no use
in His kingdom. Even the people appeared to have forgotten
him, for their fickle applause had begun to lessen, even
before his imprisonment. His work seemed to have been
without results; a momentary excitement which had already
died away. He could not hope for visits from Jesus which
could only have given a second prisoner to Machaerus —
" the Black Castle."

The reaction from the sense of boundless liberty in the
desert to the forced inaction and close walls of a prison,
and from the stir and enthusiasm of the great assemblies at
the fords of the Jordan, afiected even the strong and firm
soul of the hero, as similar influences have afiected even the
bravest hearts since his day. Moses and Elijah had had
their times of profound despondency, and it was no wonder
that a passing cloud threw its shadow even over the Baptist.

The answer of Jesus was full of calm dignity. Isaiah, the
special favourite of John, had given the marks, ages before,
by which the Messiah should be known, and these Jesus
proceeded at once to display to the disciples sent from
Machaerus. Among the crowds around Him, there were

PRAISE OF THE BAPTIST. 115

always many who had been attracted by the hope of aOHAP^xxxix.
miractdous cure of their diseases or infirmities, and these
He forthwith summoned to His presence, and healed. John
would understand the significance of such an answer, and it
left undisturbed the delicacy which shrank from verbal self-
assertion. His acts, and, doubtless, the words that accom-
panied them, were left to speak for Him. It was enough
that He should refer them to Isaiah, and to what they had
seen. " Go your way, and tell John what you have seen
and heard. The blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are
cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor
have the Gospel preached to them." ^^^ " Tell him, moreover, » isaiaii m. c;
that I know how he is tempted; but let him comfort himself ^J^J;^-
with the thought that he who holds fast his faith in spite of
all fiery triak, and does not reject the kingdom of God
because of its small beginnings, and still, spiritual gentleness,
so diflTerent from the worldly power and glory expected,
already has the blessings it is sent to bring."^^ " Bw»id.T.«i.

The messengers had hardly departed, when His full heart
broke out into a eulogy on John, tender, lofty, and fervent.
" It was no weak and wavering man," said He, " bending
this way and that, like the tall Jordan reeds,^ that ye went
out in bands to the desert banks of the Jordan to see 1 No soft
and silken man, tricked out in splendid dress, and living on
dainty fare, like the glittering courtiers at Tiberias ! John
was a prophet of God — aye, the last and the greatest of pro-
phets, for he was sent as the herald to prepare the way for
Me, the Messiah I I tell you, among all that have been bom
of women, a greater and more honoured than John the
Baptist has not risen 1 "

Passing from this tender tribute, which He had already
paid to His great forerunner, even before the authorities at
Jerusalem,^^ He proceeded, as was meet, to point out the « joim «. a*. . .
greater privileges enjoyed by His hearers, than even by one
so famous. "He was great indeed in the surpassing dignity
of his office, as the herald of the Kingdom ; yet one far less,^
but still a member of that Kingdom, which is now set up
among you, is greater in the honour of his citizenship ^® than » ughtfoot, m.
he, for he stood outside. But he did a mighty work ; he M«y«*. *» *»

116 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

oHAP.xxxoL roused the land to a grand earnestness for the kingdom of
the Messiah, and they who were thus stirred by him, are
those now being received into it The prophets and the Law
only prophesied of my coming : John announced Me as
having come. Believe Me, he was the Elias who was to
appear."^

To a Jewish audience, no honour could be so great as this,
for Elijah was the greatest of all the prophets. " Elijah
appeared," says the son of Sirach, " a prophet like fire, and
his words burned like a torch. He brought down famine on
Israel, and by his stormy zeal, he took it away. Through
the Word of the Lord he shut up the heavens, and thrice
brought down fire from them. 0 1 how wert thou magni-
fied, 0 Elijah, by thy mighty deeds, and who can boast
that he is thine equal 1 He raised the dead to life, and
brought them from the under world by the word of the
Highest. He cast kings to destruction, and the noble from
their seats. He received power to punish, on Sinai, and
judgments on Horeb. He anointed kings to revenge guilt,
and prophets to be his successors. He was carried up in a
flaming storm, in a chariot with horses of fire; he is appointed
for the correction of times to come, to abate God's wrath
before judgment be let loose, to turn the heart of the father
to the sons, and to restore the tribes of Jacob. It is well for

M Ecdesiastsoiia thosc who shall bchold thee 1 " ^* All the majesty of the pro-

* " phetic office seemed incorporate in the Tishbite, and yet this

did not seem enough to Jesus to express the dignity of John,

for he was more than a prophet, and no greater had ever

»* Hansntti, i rfseu amoug all the sons of men.^

873. SohoDkel, 1^., ^ ft ^ t • /* t

«.^^Kota^ The message from J ohn was only the expression of the
^^^ general feeling which, by its want of spiritual elevation, ques-
tioned the Messiahship of Jesus, because He had not reialized
the national idea of a Jewish hero-king, at the head of a
great revolt from Rome, destroying the heathen, and estab-
lishing the theocracy by wonders like the dividing of the
Red Sea, or the thunderings of Sinai. It struck home to the
heart of the Saviour, that even His Herald should have no
higher or worthier conception of the true nature of the
kingdom of God, — ^that even he, so near the light, — ^should

SEIiF-RIGHTEOUS PRIDE OF THE JEWS. 117

have caught so little of its brightness. No wonder the chap, xxxcl
people, as a mass, rejected Him. How long had he taught
in the towns of Galilee, and yet how disproportionately
small was the number He had really won, in spite of the
throngs who had pressed with eager curiosity and wonder
roimd Him, and the respect He had excited by His teachings !
His heart was bowed with sorrow. He had come to His own,
and His own did not receive Him. Infinite love and pity
for them filled His soul, for He was Himself a son of Israel,
and would fain have led His brethren into the New King-
dom, as the first-fruits of the nations. But they refused to
let themselves be delivered from the spiritual and moral
slavery under which they had long sunk. The yoke of
the Romans was not their greatest misfortune. That of the
dead letter, and of frozen forms and formulae, which chilled
every nobler aspiration, and shut up the heart against true
repentance, and practical holiness, was a far greater calamity.
Even their highest ideal — the conception of the Messiah —
had become a heated fantastic dream of universal dominion,
apart from religious reform. A glimpse of other fields,
which promised a richer harvest, had, however, lifted His
spirit to consoling thoughts, for the heathen centurion had
shown the faith which was wanting in Israel. His homage
had been like the wave-ofiering before God, of the first sheaf
of the Gentile world ! Heathenism might be sunk in error
and sin, crime and lust, and all moral confusion might reign
widely in it ; there was more hope of repentance and a
return to a better life, from heathen indifierence or guilt,
than from Jewish insane, self-righteous pride.^^ w soiimkfti,i6i

The crowd of despised common people and publicans, ^^ to u lattu.
whom Jesus had addressed His eulogy of John, received it Luke7;29-«5.
with delight, for they had themselves been baptized by the
now imprisoned prophet. There were not wanting others,
however, whom it greatly ofiended — ^the Pharisees and Scribes
present for no friendly purpose. With the instinct of
monopoly, they condemned at once whatever had not come
through the legitimate channels of authorized teaching.
They had gone out to John, but with the foregone conclusion
to hear, criticize, and reject him with supercilious contempt.

118 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

CHAP. nxDL as only fit for the vulgar. Though a priest's son, he wag
virtually a layman, for he had not been duly ordained. He
might be good enough in His way, but he was not a Rabbi.
He was almost guilty of schism, like Korah. He was not
licensed by the authorities, and yet preached, as, indeed, for
that matter, was the case with Jesus Himself. The bitter
hostility both John and He had met, rose the more in the
Saviour's mind at the sight of the Rabbis on the skirts of the
crowd, and the sadness and indignation of His heart broke
out in stern denunciation. "To what shall I liken the men
of this generation ? They are like children in the empty
market-places, playing at marriages and mournings; some
making music on the flute for the one; some acting like
mourners for the other; but neither the cheerful piping,
nor the sad beating on the breast, pleasing the companion
audience. John the Baptist came upholding the traditions
and customs of you Rabbis ; for He fasted, and paid attention
to washings, and set prayers, and enjoined these on his
disciples; but you said he was too strict, and would have
nothing to do with him, and that he spoke in so strange a way
because He had a devil. I came eating and drinking —
neither a Nazarite like John, nor requiring fasts like him ;
nor avoiding the table of all but the ceremonially pure, like
the Pharisees ; and you say I am too fond of eating and of
wine, and still worse, am a friend of the publicans and
sinners you despise. But the true divine wisdom which
both he and I have proclaimed is justified by those who
honour and follow it, for they know its surpassing worth,
though you treat it as folly! The divine wisdom of both his
and my coming as we have come, is vindicated by all who
humbly seek to be wise, and the folly of men is seen in
their fancied wisdom."

He would fain have led all to whom He had preached in
His frequent journeys, into the ways of peace. But tender
though He was. He was also stern, when stolid obduracy
shut its eyes on the sacred light He had brought to them.
Most of His mighty works had been done, and most of His
no less mighty words had been spoken, in Chorazin, Beth-
saida, and Capernaum, the district which He had made His

CONDEMNATION OF IMPENITENCE. 119

home. But they had led to no general penitence. With a ohap. xxzix.

voice of unspeakable sadness, mingled with holy wrath, He

denounced such wilful perversity. ' ' Woe unto thee, Chorazin,

woe unto thee, Bethsaida, for if the mighty works I have

done in you had been done even in Tyr^ and Sidon, the

types of besotted heathenism, they would have repented

long ago, in sackcloth and ashes. But I say unto you. It

will be more tolerable for Tyre and Sidon in the Day of

Judgment than for you. And thou, Capernaum, exalted to

heaven by my dwelling and working in you, shalt be thrust

down to Hades, at the Day of Judgment ; for if the mighty

works I have done in thee had been done in Sodom, it

would have remained until this day. But I say unto you.

It will be more tolerable for the land of Sodom, in the Day

of Judgment, than for thee ! "

It would seem as if at this point, some communication
that pleased Him had been made to Jesus. Perhaps His
disciples had told Him of some success obtained among the
simple crowds to whom they had preached the New King-
dom. Whatever it was. He broke forth on hearing it into
thanksgiving : " I praise Thee, 0 Father, Lord of heaven and
earth, that Thou hast hid the things of Thy Kingdom from
those who are thought, and who think themselves wise, and
qualified to judge — ^the Rabbis, and Priests, and Pharisees —
and hast revealed them to simple souls, unskilled in the
wisdom of the schools. I thank Thee that what is well-
pleasing to Thee has happened thus I " The New Kingdom
was not to rest on the theology of the schoolmen of the day,
or on official authority, or on the sanction of a corrupt
Church, or on the support of privileged classes, but upon
child-like faith and humble love. It was not to spread
downwards, from among the powerful and influential, but
to rise from among the weak and ignoble^ the poor and
lowly, who would receive it in love and humility. It was
to spread upwards by no artificial aids, but by the attractions
of its own heavenly worth alone. It was a vital condition
of its nature that it should, for it can only be received in
sincerity, where its unaided spiritual beauty wins the
heart.

120 THE LIFB OP CHEIST.

cHAP.xjoLix. Among the "babes" were doubtless included the con-
fessors to be won from the world at large, and not from
Israel alone, for the law of growth from below upwards, is
that of religious movements in all ages and countries. All
reformations begin with the laity, and with the obscure.
Jesus had nothing to hope but everything to fear from the
privileged classes, the learned guilds, the ecclesiastical author-
ities, and the officials of the Church generally. It sounds
startling to read of His thanking God that these all-powerful
classes showed neither sympathy for the New Kingdom
founded by Him, nor even the power of comprehending it,
and that it was left to the simple and child-like minds of the
common people, in their freedom from prejudice, to embrace
it with eagerness. It was because He saw in the fact, the
divine law of all moral and religious progress. New epochs in
the spiritual history of the world always spring like seeds,
in darkness and obscurity, and only show themselves when
they have already struck root in the soil. The moral and
religious life, finds an unnoticed welcome in the mass of
the people, when the higher ranks of lay, and even of
ecclesiastical society, are morally and spiritually eflfete, unfit
to introduce a reform, and bound by their interests to things

»• sohoike], as they are.^®

The overflowing fulness of heart, which had found utter-
ance in prayer, added a few sentences more, of undying
interest and beauty. It might be feared that, if old guides
were forsaken, those who took Him for their leader might
find Him unequal to direct them aright. To dispel any such
apprehension He draws aside the veil from some of the awful
mysteries of His nature and His relation to the Eternal, in
words which must have strangely comforted the simple
souls who heard them first, .and which still carry with them
a spiritual support, intensified by their awful sublimity as
the words of one, in outward seeming, a man like ourselves.
" All things concerning the New Kingdom are delivered
unto me of my Father — its founding, its establishment, its
spread. I am, therefore, the king and leader of the new
people of God — ^the head of the new Theocracy, divinely
commissioned to rule over it. All that I teach I have

1.104b

Christ's easy yoke. 121

received from my Father. I speak, in all things, the mind ohap. yxxTx.
of God, and thus you are for ever safe. No one knows fully
what I am, and what measure of gifts I have received as
Messiah, but the Father, who has commissioned and sent me
forth — Me, His Son. Nor does any man know the Father,
in His counsels for the salvation of man, as I His Son do, and
those to whom I make Him known. I am the true Light,
who alone can lighten men, the one true Teacher, who cannot
niislead.^^ » Kuinoeii

"Come unto me, therefore, all ye that labour and are *»*»•
heavy-laden with the burden of rites and traditions of men,
which your teachers lay on you — ^you, who can find no
deliverance from the misery of your souls, by all these
observances, and I will give your spirits rest. Cast off their
heavy yoke and take mine, and learn of me, for I am not
hard and haughty like your Eabbis, but meek and lowly in
heart, and ye shall find rest for your souk. For the yoke I
lay on you — ^the law I require you to honour — ^is not like
that which you have hitherto borne, but brings health to
the spirit, and my burden is light, for it is the Law of

love."^^ »* M^yar, in loc

Language like this, briefly expanded, for greater clearness,
demands reverent thought. Who does not feel that such
words could not fall from the lips of a sinful man, but only
from those of one whose nature and life lay far above aU
human imperfection ? Who, even of the highest, or wisest,
or best, of human teachers, could invite aU^ without excep-
tion, to come to Him, with the promise that He would give
them true rest for their souls ? ^^ And who, in doing so, « unmAon,
could speak of it as a thmg apparent to aU who heard Him, g-^JJJj^"-
that He was meek and lowly in heart ? Who would think owat^^
of claiming the stately dignity of sole representative of the Weid^mwm.
Unseen God, and who could speak of God as His Father, in «««»» «•
the same way as Jesus ? And who would dare to link Him-
self with the Eternal in a Communion so awful and an inter-
revelation so absolute ? He makes us feel that as we listen
we are face to face with the Incarnate Divine.

122 . THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

CHAPTER XL

DABKENING SHADOWS.— LIFE IN GALILEB.

CHAP. XL.

THE rupture with the hierarchical party was not as yet so
pronounced as to prevent a more or less friendly inter-
course between Jesus and some of its members. An incident
connected with one happened about this time.

A Pharisee of the name of Simon, who seems to have been
in good social position, had met with Jesus in some of the
Galila^an towns, and had been so attracted by Him that he
invited Him to his house, to eat with him. This was a mark
of high consideration from one of a party so strict, for a
Pharisee was as careful as a Brahmin is, with whom he ate.
Defilement was temporary loss of caste, and neutralized long-
continued effort to attain a higher grade of legal purity, and
it lurked, in a thousand forms, behind the simplest acts of
ijort,i202. daily life and intercourse.^ To invite one who was neither
a Pharisee, nor a member of even the lowest grade of legal
guilds, was amazing liberality in a Jewish precisian. It
would seem as if the courtesy had already excited timid fear
of having gone too far, when Jesus accepted the invitation,—
and had given place to a cold patronizing, condescension,
which fancied it had conferred, rather than received, an
honour by His presence.

In the earlier ages of the nation it had been the habit to
jiid«eei9.«. sit at meals ^ on mats, with the feet crossed beneath the
6, 24. ■ body, as at present in the East — around a low table — ^now,

1 King! 18. 20. -^ ' ^ ^ '

prov.M.!. Quiy about a foot in height. But the foreign custom of
reclining on cushions, long in use among the Persians,
Greeks, and Romans, had been introduced into Palestine
apparently as early as the days of Amos,^ and had become
general in those of Christ. Raised divans, or table couches,

• Amos 6. 4, 7.
(clr. B.C. 790).

JEWISH FORMS OP HOSPITALITY. 123

provided with cushions and arranged on three sides of a ohap. xl.
square, supplied a rest for guests, and on these they lay on
their left arm, with their feet at ease behind them, outside.
The place of honour was at the upper end of the right side,
which had no one above it, whUe all below could easily
lean back on the bosom of the person immediately behind.
Hospitality among the poor wa3 prefaced by various cour-
tesies and attentions to the guest, more or less peculiar to
the nation. To enter a house except with bare feet was
much the same as our doing so without removing the hat,
and, therefore, all shoes and sandals were taken off, and
left at the threshold. A kiss on the cheek, from the master
of the house, with the invocation "The Lord be with you,"
conveyed a formal welcome, and was followed, on the guest
taking his place on the couch, by a servant bringing water
and washing the feet, to cool and refresh them, as well as to
remove the dust of the road and give ceremonial cleanness.
The host himself, or one of his servants, next anointed the
head and beard of the guests with fragrant oil, attention to
the hair being a great point with Orientals. Before eating,
water was again brought to wash the hands, as the require-
ments of legal purity demanded, and from the fact that the
food was taken by dipping the fingers, or a piece of bread,
into a common dish. " To wash the hands before a meal,"
says the Talmud, " is a command ; to do so during eating is
left matter of choice, but, to wash them after it, is a

OUty. « Trwrt. ChoHa

With all Jews, but especially with scrupulous formalists L3to7.86-*a
like the Pharisees, religious observances formed a marked
feature in every entertainment, however humble, and, as
these were duly prescribed by the Rabbis, we are able to
picture a meal like that given to Jesus by Simon.*

Houses in the East are far from enjojdng the privacy we
prize so highly. Even at this time, strangers pass in and
out at their pleasure, to see the guests, and join in conver-
sation with them and with the host.^ Among those who
did 80, in Simon's house, was one at whose presence in his
dwelling, under any circumstances, he must have been
equally astonished and disturbed. Silently gliding into the

124 THB LIFB OF CHRIST.

oHAP. XL. chamber, perhaps to the seat round the wall, came a woman,
though women could not with propriety make their appear-
ance at such entertainments. She was, moreover, unveiled,
which, in itself, was contrary to recognized rules. In the
little town every one was known, and Simon saw, at the first
glance, that she was no other than one known to the com-
munity as a poor fallen woman. She was evidently in dis-
tress, but he had no eyes or heart for such a consideration.
She had compromised his respectability, and his frigid self-
righteousness could think only of itself. To eat with publi-
cans or sinners was the sum of all evils to a Pharisee. It
was the approach of one under moral quarantine, whose
very neighbourhood was disastrous, and yet, here she was,
in his own house.

A tenderer heart than his, however, knew the deeper
aspects of her case, and welcomed her approach. She had
listened to the words of Jesus, perhaps to His invitation
to the weary and heavy-laden to come to Him for rest, and
was bowed down with penitent shame and contrition, which
were the promise of a new and purer life. Lost, till now,
to self-respect, an outcast for whom no one cared, she had
found in Him that there was a friend of sinners, who
beckoned even the most hopeless to take shelter by His side.
In Him and His words hope had returned, and in His re-
spect for her womanhood^ though fallen, quickening self-
respect had been once more awakened in her bosom. She
might yet be saved from her degradation ; might yet retrace
her steps from pollution and sorrow, to a pure life and
peace of mind. What could she do but seek the presence
of One who had won her back from ruin ? What could she
do but express her lowly gratitude for the sjanpathy He
alone had shown ; the belief in the possibility of her restora-
tion that had itself restored her !

The object of her visit was not, however, long a mystery.
Kneeling down behind Jesus, she proceeded to anoint His
feet with fragrant ointment, but as she was about to do so,
her tears fell on them so fast that she was fain to wipe them
with her long hair, which, in her distress, had escaped its
fastenings. To anoint the head was the usual course, but

JESUS AT THE PHARISEE'S HOUSE. 125

she would not venture on such an honour, and would only ohar^xi*
make bold to anoint His feet. Unmindful of her disorder,
which Simon coldly noted as an additional shame, she
could think only of her benefactor. Weeping and wiping
away the tears, and covering the feet with kisses,® her heart
gave itself vent till it was calmed enough to let her anoint
them, and, meanwhile, Jesus left her to her lowly, loving will.

The Pharisee was horrified. That a Rabbi should allow
such a woman, or, indeed, any woman, to approach him,
was contrary to all the traditions, but it was incredibly
worse in one whom the people regarded as a prophet. He
would not speak aloud, but his looks showed his thoughts.
" This man, if He were a prophet, would have known what
kind of woman this is that touches Him, for she is a sinner."

Jesus saw what was passing in his mind, and turning to
him, requested an answer to a question. "There was a
certain creditor," said He, " who had two debtors. The one
owed him five hundred pence, the other fifty. And when
they had nothing to pay, he frankly forgave them both.
Tell me, therefore, which of them will love him most ? "
Utterly unconscious of the bearing of 1;hese words on him-
self, the Pharisee readily answered that he supposed he to
whom the creditor forgave most, would love him most.
"Thou hast rightly judged," replied Jesus. Then like
Nathan with David, He proceeded to bring the parable home
to his conscience.

Turning to the weeping, penitent woman at His feet, and
pointing to her. He continued, "Simon, seest thou this
woman ? I entered into thine house ; thou gavest me no
water, for my feet, as even qourtesy demanded ; but she
has washed my feet with tears, and wiped them with her
hair. Thou gavest me no kiss ; but this woman, since the
time I entered, has not ceased to kiss my feet tenderly. Thou
didst not anoint my head with oil ; but she has anointed my
feet with ointment. I say unto thee, therefore, her sins,
which are many, are forgiven, for she loved much, but one
to whom little is forgiven, loves little. " Then addressing
the sobbing woman herself. He told her, " Thy sins are for-
given. Thy faith has saved thee : go in peace ! "

126 THE LIFE OF CHBIST.

CHAP. XL. That He should claim to forgive sins had already raised a
charge of blasphemy against Him, and it did not pass un-
noticed now. But the time had not yet come for open
hostility, and His words, in the meanwhile, were only trea-
sured up to be used against Him hereafter.
« Chap. 8. 12. We are indebted to a notice in St. Luke * for a glimpse of
the mode of life of Jesus in these months. He seems to
have spent them in successive circuits, jfrom Capernaum as
a centre, through all the towns and villages of Galilee, very
much as the Rabbis were accustomed to do over the country
at large. In these journeys He was attended by the Twelve,
and by a group of loving women, attracted to Him by re-
lationship, or by His having healed them of various diseases ;
who provided, in part, at least, for His wants, and those of
His followers. That He was not absolutely poor, in the
sense of suffering from want, is implied in His recognition
as a Rabbi, and even as a prophet, which secured Him hos-
pitality and welcome, as an act of supreme religious merit,
wherever He went. To entertain a Rabbi was to secure the

• Gfwsrw, 1 144. favour of God, and it was coveted as a special honour.^

Thus, though He had no home He could call His own. He
would never want ready welcome in the homes of others
wherever He went, so long as popular prejudice was not
' joimi2.L excited against Him. The cottage of Lazarus at Bethany^
was only one of many that opened its doors to Him, and
He could even reckon on a cheerful reception so confidently,

• Lukeia 5. as to invite Himself to houses like that of Zaccheus,® or that

of him in whose upper room He instituted the Last Supper.
Many disciples, or persons favourably inclined, were scat-
tered over the land.*^ The simplicity of Eastern life favoured
such kindly relations, and hence His personal support would
be freely supplied, except in desert parts, or when He was
journeying through Samaria, or distant places on the fron-

• Matt 14. 17. tiers of Galilee.^ The willing gifts of friends, thrown into

a common fund, supplied so fully all that was needed in
such cases, that there was always a surplus from which
w John 12. 5; cvcu to givc to the poor.^^
Haae'sLeben Thc namcs of somc of the OTOup of women who thus

Jeflii,l86. or

^^^B attended Jesus have been handed down as a fitting tribute

LebenJeBiH
191.

L

MABY MAGDALENE. 127

«

to their devotion, while those of the men who followed Him, chap. xl.
with the exception of the twelve apostles, are lost. The
religious enthusiasm of the age, always seen most in the
gentler sex, had already spread among all Jewish women, for
the Pharisees found them their most earnest supporters.^^" jo«.Antxvii

2. 4 • ztUL 1.

It was only natural, therefore, that Jesus should attract a « ; ^- w- «•
similar devotion. His purity of soul, His reverend courtesy
to the sex. His championship of their equal dignity with
man, before God, and His demand for supreme zeal in all,
in the spread of the New Kingdom, drew them after Him
But so accustomed were all classes to such attendance on
their own Rabbis, that even the enemies of Jesus found no
ground for censure in their ministrations.

Of these earliest mothers of the Church, five are named.
Mary, or Miriam, of the town of Magdala, from whom Jesus
had cast seven devils ; Johanna, the wife, not the widow, of
Ghuoza, a high official in the palace of Herod Antipas, at
Tiberias ; Susanna, of whom only the name is known ; Mary,
the mother of James the Less and of Joses, and wife of
Klopas; and Schelamith, or Salome, mother of James and
John, and wife of Zebedee or Zabdai, perhaps, also, the sister
of Mary, the mother of Jesus, ^*^ as Mary, the wife of Klopas, « johnw. 25.
is also thought by many to have been. Of the other three, J^^^af-
whom Jesus had cured of various diseases, a surpassing S^SS^a.
interest attaches to Mary Magdalene, from her unfounded ^•^«**-'"'*^-
identification with the fallen penitent who did Jesus honour
in the house of the Pharisee Simon. There is nothing
whatever to connect her with that narrative, for it confoimds
what the New Testament distinguishes by the clearest
language, to think of her having led a sinful life from the
fact of her having suffered from demoniacal possession.
Never, perhaps, has a figment so utterly baseless obtained so
wide an acceptance as that which we connect with her
name.^^ But it is hopeless to try to explode it, for the word « smitj'aDicty.
has passed into the vocabularies of Europe as a synonym of Ma^cwene."
penitent frailty.

Mary appears to have belonged to the village of Magdala,
or Migdol — the Tower — ^about three miles north of Tiberias,
on the water's edge, at the south-east corner of the plain of

128 THE UFE OF CHRIST.

CHAP. XL. Gennesareth. It is now represented by the few wretched
hovels which form the Mohammedan village of El-Mejdel,
with a solitary thorn-bush beside it, as the last trace of the
rich groves and orchards, amidst which it was, doubtless,
embowered, in the days of our Lord. A high limestone
rock, full of caves, overhangs it on the south-west, and
beneath this, out of a deep ravine at the back of the plain,
a clear stream rushes past to the sea, which it enters through
a tangled thicket of thorn, and willows, and oleanders,
covered in their season with clouds of varied blossoms.
Who Mary was, or what, no one can tell, but legend, with a
cruel injustice, has associated her name for ever with the
spot now sacred to her, as the lost one reclaimed by

" Art.j'u^g' Jesus.^^
Winer, Bibei Thc circlc which thus attended Him on His loumeys was
SSSg."^ peculiar, above all things, in an age of intense ritualism, by
its slight care for the external observances and mortifications,
which formed the sum of religion with so many. This
simplicity was made the great a<;cusation against Jesus, as,
in after times, the absence of sacrifices and temples led the

wMinuaF. hcathcn to charge Christianity with atheism. ^'^ Even the
initiatory rite of baptism had fallen into abeyance, and
fasting, and the established rules for prayer and ceremonial
purifications were so neglected, as to cause remark and anim-

w Matt 9. 14; adversion.^^ There is, indeed, great reason for the belief

Like 5. 88." of some, that Jesus and His followers differed, alike in dress,

demeanour, mode of life, and customs, from the teachers of

" Keiin,ii28i. thc day and their foUowers.^^ The simple tunic and upper
garment may have had the Tallith worn by all other Jews,
but we may be certain that the tassels at its comers were in

nM»tt.».«. contrast to the huge, ostentatious size^^ affected by the
Rabbis. Nor can we imagine that either Jesus, or the
Twelve, sanctioned by their use the superstitious leathern
phylacteries® which others bound, with long fillets, on their
left arm and their forehead, at prayers. The countless rules,
then, as now, in force for the length of the straps, for the
size of the leather cells to hold the prescribed texts — ^for
their shape, manufacture, &c., and even for the exact mode
of winding the straps round the arm, or tying them on the

FAMILY LIFE OF JESUS. 129

forehead — ^marked too strongly the cold, mechanical concep- ohap. xl.
tions of prayer then prevailing, to let us imagine that our
Lord or the disciples wore them. There was no such
neglect of His person as many of His contemporaries thought
identical with holiness, for He did not decline the anointing
of His head or beard, or the washing of His feet, at each
restmg-place.^^ Nor did He require ascetic restrictions atw HAtteLW;
table, for we find Him permitting the use of wine, bread, LibH»7.44
and honey,' and of fish, flesh, and fowl.^^ In Peter's house » M»tt.ii.i9;
He invited others to eat with Him, and He readily accepted jjjjj-,^^, '
invitations, with all the customary refinements of the kiss of aSSJiJSn
salutation, and foot-washing, and anointing even with the ^*^^^^-
costliest perfume.*^ The Pharisee atoned for his occasional « M»tt8.i«;
entertainments by fasting on Mondays and Thursdays, but Luke 7. m";
Jesus exposed Himself to the charge of indulgence, because JJJi \^ ,,
He never practised even such intermittent austerities.^ » nktt 11.19 ;
Expense was, however, the exception and not the rule, for He
praised the Baptist for having nothing costly or effeminate
in his dress, and He enjoined the strictest moderation, both
in dress and livinff,^^ on His disciples. « M»ttii.8;

O/ L^ 8. 30* 10 9.

It is the great characteristic of Jesus that He elevated the ^g^ i^
common details of life to the loftiest uses, and ennobled even
the familiar and simple. In His company, the evening meal,
when not forgotten in the press of overwhelming labours,
was an opportunity always gladly embraced for informal
instruction, not only to the Twelve, but to the many strangers
whom the easy manners of the East permitted to gather
in the apartment.^^ After evening devotions, the family « Matt a 10.
group invited the familiar and unconstrained exchange of 2o.i4,«>/fc'
thought, in which Jesus so much delighted. As the Father
and Head of the circle. He would, doubtless, use the form of
thanks and of blessing hallowed by the custom of His nation,
opening the meal by the bread and wine passed round to be
tasted by each, after acknowledgment of the bounty of God
and His gifts. Then would follow a word to all, in turn :
the story of the day, and each one's share in it, would be
reviewed with tender blame, or praise, or counsel ; and the
faith, and hope, and love of all would be refreshed by their
very meeting round the table. How dear these hours of
VOL. n. 48

180 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

OHAP. XL. quiet home life were to Jesus Himself, is seen in the tender-
ness with which He saw, in the group they brought around
Him, His " children," — as if they replaced in His heart the
household affections of the family; and in the pain, and
almost womanly fondness, with which He hesitated to pro-
noimce His last farewell to them. To the disciples themselves,
they grew to be an imperishable memory, which they were
fain, in compliance with their Master's wish, to perpetuate
daily, in their breaking of bread. The greatness and conde-
scension, the loving familiarity and fond endearments of dose
intercourse, the peace and quiet after the strife of the day,
the feeling of security under His eye and care, made these
hours a recollection that grew brighter and more sacred with
the lapse of years, and deepened the longing for His return,
or for their departure to be with Him.

In this delightful family life there was, however, nothing

like communism, for there is not a trace of the property of

each being thrown into a common fund. His disciples had,

indeed, left all; but they had not sold it, to help the general

« Matt 19. 27; treasury. ^^ Some of them still retained funds of their own,^^

» Matt 10. 9. and the women who accompanied them still kept their pro-

w Luke a 8. perty.^^ When Jesus paid the Temple tax for Himself, He

did not think of doing so for His disciples as well. It was

left to them to pay for themselves. The simple wants of

each day were provided by free contributions, when not

proffered by hospitality, nor did He receive even these from

His disciples, though Rabbis were permitted to accept a

honorarium from their scholars. "Ye have received for

« Matt. 10. 8. nothing" said He, "give for nothing." ^^ He took no gifts

of money from the people, nor did He let His disciples collect

alms, as the Rabbis did their scholars. The only bounty He

accepted was the hospitality and shelter always ready for Him

in friendly Galilee. From the generous women who followed

Him, He, indeed, accepted passing support, but, in contrast

to the greed of the Rabbis, He only used their liberality for

the need of the moment. His little circle was never allowed

» Lnke M. 8*. to suffcr want, but was always able to distribute charity, and,

i7.»7;26.9. though Hc sccms to have carried no money. He expressly

^h^ distinguishes both Himself and His disciples from the poor.^®

LebenjMOt
192.

JESUS AMONG HIS DISCIPLES. 131

His presence among His disciples was seldom, even for a chap, tu
brief interval, interrupted. He might be summoned to heal
some sick person, or invited to some meal ; or He might
wish to be alone, for a time, in His chamber or among the
hiUs, while He prayed, but these were only absences of a
few hours. It would seem as if the kiss of salutation in such
cases greeted His retum.^^ He gave the word for setting out » M»tt. m. 4».
on a journey, or for going by boat, and the disciples pro-
cured what was needed by the way, if by land, and plied
the oar, if on the Lake.^^ " ?!*?•> ^®v

He always travelled on foot, and was often thankful for a
draught of water, as He toiled along the hot sides of the
white hills, or for a piece of bread, procured in some village
through which He passed.^^ Sometimes He went with His " m*^ ^'^^
disciples, sometimes before them ; leaving them to their own
conversation, but noting and reproving, at once, their mis-
understandings, or momentary misconceptions.^ ** iJ^iVwai.

When a resting-place had to be found for the night. He
was wont to send on some of His disciples before, or He
awaited an invitation on His arrival ; His disciples sharing
the proffered hospitality, or distributing themselves in other
houses.*^ The entertainment must have varied in different •* gj*^ f-^-
dwellings, from the simplicity of the prophet's chamber ^"-i^"-
where the Shunamite had provided a bed, a table, a stool,
and a lamp, to the friendship, and busy womanly ministra-
tions, and homage of lowly discipleship, of homes like the
cottage of Bethany. Where He was welcomed. He entered
with the invocation, " Peace be to this house " — ^but, unlike
the Pharisees — without asking any questions as to the
levitical cleanness of the house, or its tables, or benches, or
vessels.^ It was very rarely, one would suppose, that He " M»ttio.ii,i4.
was not gladly received, but when at any time He met
inhospitality. He only went on to the next village. Some-
times He bore His rejection silently, but at others, moved at
their hardness. He shook the very dust of the town from His
feet on leaving it, as a protest. When meekness could be
shown he showed it, but where the circumstances demanded,
He was as stem as commonly He was gentle.^^ » xehn, h.

It is not easy to realize the daily life of one so different

132 THE LIFE OP CHRIST.

OHAP. XL. from ourselves as Jesus, but a fine poetical mind has
imagined the scene of the healing of Mary Magdalene, and
the appearance and acts of Christ so finely, that I borrow

T Deutaob, somc passaffcs from his pen.^^

Eln Tag, Ac^ -^ ® ^

^ ^ The landing-place at Capernaum was at the south side of

the town. Thither the boats came that brought over wood
from the forests of Gaulonitis, and thither the boat steered
that bore Jesus, His four earliest disciples acting as boatmen.
He had been on the other side of the Lake, and had returned
now, in the evening. The sun was just setting, but a few
beams seemed to have lingered to die away on His face, and
the full moon rose, as if to see Him from behind the brown
hills still bathed in purple. The soft evening wind had risen
to cool His brow, and the waters, sparkling in the moonlight,
rose and fell round the boat, and gently rocked it. As it
touched the shore there were few people about, but a boat
from Magdala lay near, with a sick person in it, whom, it had
taken her mother s utmost strength to hold, and keep from
uttering loud cries of distress. She had been brought in the
hope of finding Jesus, that He might cure her.

"Master," said John, "there is work yonder for you
already." " I must always be doing the work of Him that sent
me," replied Jesus ; " the night cometh when no man can
work." The mother of the sick woman had recognized Him
at the first glance, for no one could mistake Him, and forth-
with cried out with a heart-rending voice, " 0 Jesus, our
helper and teacher. Thou messenger of the All-Merciful, help
my poor child, — for the Holy One, blessed be His name, has
heard my prayer that we should find Thee, and Thou us."
Peter forthwith, with the help of the other two, who had let
their oars rest idly on the water, turned the boat, so that it
lay alongside the one from Magdala. Jesus now rose ; the
mother sank on her knees ; but the sick woman tried with
all her might to break away, and to throw herself into the
water, on the far side of the boat. The boatman, however,
and John, who had sprung over, held her by the arms, while
her mother buried her face in the long plaited hair of her
child. Her tears had ceased to flow ; she was lost in silent
prayer. " Where are these people from?" asked Jesus of the

MABY MAGDALENE. 133

boatman, and added, to His disciples, when he heard that ohap.xl.
she came from Magdala, " Woe to this Magdala, for it will
become a ruin for its wickedness ! The rich gifts it sends to
Jerusalem will not help it, for, as the prophet says, ' They
are bought with the wages of uncleanness, and to that they
will again return.'" ^^ " Turn her face to me that I may see •• Micahi.?.
her," added He. It was not easy to do this, for the sick one
held her face, bent over, as far as possible, towards the water.
John managed it, however, by kind words. " Mary," said he,
for he had asked her mother her name, " do you wish to be
for ever under the power of demons ? See, the conqueror of
demons is before thee, look on Him, that you may be healed.
We are all prajing for you, as Moses, peace be to him, once
prayed for his sister, — ' 0 God, heal her.' Do not put our
prayer to shame ; now is the moment when you can make
yourself and your mother happy." These words told ; and no
longer opposing strength to strength, she let them raise her
head, and turn her face to Jesus. But when she saw Him,
her whole body was so violently convulsed, that the boat
swayed to and fro, and she shrieked out the most piercing
wails, which sounded far over the Lake.

Jesus, however, fixed His eyes on hers, and kept them from
turning away, and as He gazed. His look seemed to enter
her soul, and break the sevenfold chain m which it lay
bound. ^ The poor raving creature now became quiet and
did not need to be held ; her convulsions ceased, the contor-
tions of her features, and the wildness of her eyes, passed ofi^,
and profuse sweat burst from her brow, and mingled with
her tears. Her mother stepped back, and the healed one
sank down on the spot where her mother had been praying,
and muttered, with subdued trembling words, to Jesus, — " 0
Lord, I am a great sinner ; is the door of repentance still
open for me?" " Be comforted, my daughter," answered He,
" God has no pleasure in the death of the wicked ; thou
hast been a habitation of evil spirits, become now a temple
of the living God." The mother, unable to restrain herself,
broke out — "Thanks to Thee, Thou Consolation of Israel,"
but He went on, — " Return now, quickly, to Magdala, and be
calm, and give thanks to God in silence." John stepped

134 THS LIFE OF CHRIST.

CHAS^XL. back into the boat to Jesus, and the other boat shot out into
the Lake, on the way home. The two women sat on the
middle seat. Mary held her mother in her arms in grateful
thanks, and neither spoke, but both kept their eyes fixed on
Jesus, till the shore, jutting out westwards, hid Him fix>m
their sight.

When the boat with the women was gone, Peter bound
his to the post to which the other had been tied, but Jesus
sat still in deep thought, without looking round, and the
disciples remained motionless beside Him, for reverence
forbade them to ask Him to go ashore. Meanwhile, the
people of Capernaum, men, women, and children, streamed
down in bands ; some soldiers of the Roman-Herodian gar-
rison, and some strange faces from Perea, Decapolis, and
Syria, among them.

The open space had filled, and now Peter ventured to
whisper, in a low voice which concealed his impatience,
" Maranu we Rabbinu — Our Lord and Master — ^the people
have assembled and wait for Thee." On this Jesus rose.
Peter made a bridge from the boat to the shore with a
plank, hastening across to make it secure, and to open the
way; for the crowd was very dense at the edge of the water.
Christ now left the boat, followed by the three other
disciples, and, when He had stepped ashore, said to Peter, —
'^ Schim'on KSfd " — ^for thus He addressed him when He had
need of his faithful and zealous service in the things of
the kingdom of God — " I shall take my stand under the
palm-tree yonder." It was hard, however, to make way
through the crowd, for those who had set themselves nearest
the water were mostly sick people, to whom the others,
from compassion, had given the front place. Indeed, Jesus
had scarcely landed, before cries for help rose, in different
dialects, and in every form of appeal. "Rabbi, Rabboni,"
"Holy One of the Most High 1" "Son of David !" " Son of
Godl" mingled one with the other. Jesus, however,
waving them back with His hand, said, " Let me pass 1 to-
night is not to be for the healing of your bodily troubles,
but that you may hear the word of life, for the good of
your souls." On hearing this they pressed towards Him,

A DISCOUBSE OF JESUS. 135

that they might at least touch Him. When, at last, with ohap^xl.
the help of His disciples. He made His way to the palm. He
motioned to the people to sit down on the grass. The knoll
from which the palm rose was only a slight one, but when
the crowd had sat down in rows, it sufficed to raise Him
sufficiently above them. The men sat on the ground,
leaving any better spots for the women and children.

It is a mistake to think of Jesus standing while He taught.
He stood in the synagogue at Nazareth while the Prophets
were being read, but He sat down to teach. He sat as He
taught in the Temple, and when He addressed the multi-
tude whom He had miraculously fed; and when He spoke
from Simon Peter's boat, he did so sitting.

Under the palm lay a large stone, on which many had
sat before, to enjoy the view over the Lake, or the shade of
the branches above. The Rabbis often chose such open air
spots for their addresses. There was nothing extraordinary,
therefore, when Jesus sat down on it, and made it His
pulpit. His dress was clean and carefully chosen, but
simple. On His head, held in its place by a cord. He wore a
white sudar, the ends of which hung down His shoulders.
Over His tunic, which reached to the hands and feet, was a
blue Tallith, with the prescribed tassels at the four comers,
but only as large as Moses required. It was so thrown over
Him, and so held together, that the grey red-striped under-
garment was little seen, and His feet, which had sandals,
not shoes, were only noticed occasionally, when He moved.
When He had sat down and looked over the people, they
became stiller and stiUer, till nothing was heard but the
soft plash of the ripple on the beach.

As He sat on the stone, Simon and Andrew, the sons of
Jonas, stood on His right and left hand, with James and
John, the sons of Zabdai. The people stood around the
slope, for as yet Rabbis were heard, standing. " Sickness came
into the world," says the Talmud, " when Rabban Gamaliel
died, and it became the rule to hear the Law sitting."*^ " Sons » ughtfoot, a
of Israel, Men of Galilee," He began, " the time is fulfilled,
and the kingdom of God has come : repent, and believe the
GospeL Moses, your teacher, peace be to him, has said —

136 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

OHAP. XL * A prophet will the Lord your Grod raise unto you from your
brethren, like unto me. Him shall ye hear. But He who
will not hear this prophet shall die ! ' Amen, I say unto
you : He who believes on me has everlasting life. No man
knows the Father but the Son, and no man knows the Son
but the Father, and he to whom the Son reveals Him." Then,
with a louder voice, He continued, " Come to me, all ye that
labour and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. Take
my yoke upon you and learn of me, for I am meek and
lowly in heart, and ye shall find rest for your souls. For
my yoke is easy, and my burden is Ught." Then, drawing
to a close. He added, " Take on you the yoke of the kingdom
of heaven, for the kingdom of heaven is the fulfilling of the
Law and the Prophets. Give up that which is worth little,
that you may have what is of great price. Become wise
changers who value holy money above all other, and the
pearl of price above all.^ He that has ears to hear, let him
hear."*

THE BT7BSXING OF THB STORM. 137

CHAPTER XLI.

THE BUESTING OP THE STOBM.

THE summer passed in a succession of excitements and an ohap. xll
unbroken recurrence of exhausting toil. Wherever
Jesus appeared He was surrounded by crowds, anxious to
see and to hear. The sick everywhere pressed in His way,
and jfriends brought the bed-ridden and helpless to Him,
firom all quarters. From early morning till night, day by
day, without respite, there was a strain on mind, heart, and
body, alike. Even the retirement of the house in which He
might be resting, could not save Him from intruding crowds,
and time or free space for meals was hardly to be had. Such
tension of His whole nature must have told on Him, and
must have affected His whole nervous and physical system.
To be continually surrounded by misery, in every form, is
itself distressing ; but, in addition to this, to be kept on the
strain by the higher spiritual excitement of a great religious
crisis, and to be overtaxed in mere physical demands, could
not fail to show results, in careworn features, feverishness of
the brain, and the need of temporary quiet and rest. Yet
sympathy was felt for Him only by a few. The thoughtless
crowds did not realize that they were consuming in the fires
of its own devotion the nature they intended to honour, and
His enemies, seeing everything only through the disturbing
light of their hatred, invented a theory for it all that was
sinister enough.

The continued and increasing support Jesus received from
the people, was a daily growing evil in the eyes of the
ecclesiastical authorities. They were in danger of losing
their authority, which they identified with the interests
of orthodoxy, and national favour with God. They had let

138 THE UFE OF CHRIST.

OHAP.XLL Him choose four or five disciples, without feeling alarmed,
for a movement as yet so insignificant was almost beneath
their notice. The choice of a publican as one of this handful
had, indeed, apparently neutralized any possible danger, by
the shock it gave to public feeling. The further choice of
the Twelve was, however, more serious. It seemed like
consolidation, and progress towards open schism. There
were, already, parties in Judaism, but there were no sects,
for all were alike fanatically loyal to the Law, the Temple, and
the Scribes, and ready to imite against any one who was not
as much so as themselves, in their own sense. Criticism was
utterly proscribed : blind worship of things as they were
was imperatively required, and, hence, Jesus, with His fi?ee
examination of received opinions, provoked the bitterest
hostility. As long, however, as H.e had no following He
was little dreaded, but signs of organization and permanence,
such as the choice of the Twelve, and the growing enthusiasm
of the people towards Him, determined the authorities on
vigorous action. Information was laid against Him at Jeru-
salem, where He had already been challenged, and Rabbis
were sent down to investigate the whole question.

Every movement which did not rise in the Rabbinical

schools was suspected by the Rabbis and their disciples, and

there were circumstances in that of Jesus, which were

especially formidable. The superhuman powers He displayed

could not be questioned, and the Rabbis could boast of

nothing as imposing. They were falling into the shade.

Respect was growing for Jesus among the people, in spite of

1 Ktem,iL88». them.^ His claims were daily urged more frankly, and the

masses were disposed to assent to them. On His return to

Capernaum He had cured a man who was blind, dumb, and

mad, and possessed besides with a devil ; and so astounding a

miracle had raised the question, far and wide, whether, in

spite of their former ideas. He were not the Son of David* —

« Henog, ix. thc Mcssiah,^ after all. Men had, indeed, expected an out-

sohawr, 688. ward political kingdom, with a blaze of miracle wrought on

behalf of the nation at large, but they began to ask each other,

" When the Christ cometh wiU He do more miracles than

> John 7. 81. this man has done?"® It could not be endured. The

RABBINICAL ICAGIC ABTS. 139

movement of John had just been crushed, and, now, in ohap.xix
restless Galilee, one far more dangerous to the Jerusalem
authorities was rapidly taking shape and consistence. It
must be put down at any cost.

The Eabbis from the capital, reverend and grey, did not
know whether to be more bitter at the discredit thrown on
their own claims to supernatural powers, or at the popular
favour shown to Jesus. He cast out devils, indeed, but so
did they, and their disciples,^ the exorcists. It was enough * ^^l^:^'
for Him, however, to speak, and the sufferer was cured of J'^^iy^
aU ailments alike, while they used adjurations, spells, and
ma^c formulae which were dangerously like the supersti-
tions of the despised heathens. They laid stress on their
knowledge of the secret names of God and the angels.
To utter the cipher which stood for these, was, in their
belief, to set in motion the divine and angelic powers them-
selves, and a whole science of the black art had been invented,
defining how and for what ends they could be pressed into
the service of their invoker, like the genii of the Arabian
Nights into that of a magician.

The calm dignity and simplicity of Jesus, contrasted with
their doubtful rites, was, indeed, humiliating to them. The
mightiest of all agencies at their command was the unutter-
able name of "Jehovah"— called in the Book of Enoch, in the
jargon of the Rabbinical exorcists — the oath AkM and " the
number of KesbeeL" ^ By this number, or oath, it was held, « op"boi».''
all that is has its being. It had also a secret magical power. 12! i».^rS*^
It was made known to men by the wicked angels — "the
sons of God" — who allied themselves with women, and
brought on the flood.^ "It was revealed by the Head of«aen.6.i
the Oath to the holy ones who dwell above in majesty ; and
his name is Beqa*' And he said to the holy Michael
that he should reveal to them that secret name, that
they might see it, and that they might use it for an
oath, that they who reveal to the sons of men all that
is hidden, may shrink away before that name and that
oath. And this is the power of that oath, and these
are its secret works, and these things were established by
the swearing of it. The heaven was hung up for ever

140 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

OHAP.XLL and ever (by it), before the world was created. By it the
earth was founded above the water, and the fair streams
come by it for the use of the living, from the hidden places
of the hills, from the foundation of the earth, for ever. And
by that oath was the sea made, and underneath it He spread
the sand, to restrain it in the time of its rage, and it dare
not overstep this bound from the creation of the world to
eternity. And through that oath the abysses are confirmed,
and stand, and move not from their place, from eternity to
eternity. And through that oath the sun and the moon
fulfil their course, and turn not aside from the path assigned
them, for ever and ever. And through that oath the stars
fulfil their course, and He calls their names, and they answer,
from eternity to eternity. And even so the spirits of the
waters, of the winds, of all airs, and their ways, according
to all the combinations of the spirits. And by that oath are
the treasuries of the voice of the thunder and of the bright-
ness of the lightning maintained, and the treasuries of the
rain, and of the hoar frost, and of the clouds, and of the rain,
' OMBnA and of the dew. And over them all this oath is mighty." ^
i»-ift. Possessing spells so mighty as they believed the secret names

of the higher powers thus to be, the Rabbis had created a
vast science of magic, as fantastic as that of mediaeval super-
stition, to bring these awful powers to bear on the mys-
teries of the future, and the diseases and troubles of the
present. Combinations of numbers of lines, or of letters
based on them, were believed to put them at the service of the
seer, or the exorcist. Resistless talismans, protecting amu-
lets, frightful curses, by which miracles could be wrought,
the sick healed, and demons put to flight, were formed in
this way. Armed with a mystic text from the opening of

• ofrijwr, 1 60, Genesis, or the visions of Ezekiel,® or the secret name of God,

246

or of some of the angels, or with secret mysterious unions of
letters, the Rabbis who dealt in the dark arts had the power
to draw the moon from heaven, or to open the abysses of
the earth I ^ The uninitiated saw only unmeaning signs in
their most awful formula?, but he who could reckon their
mystic value aright was master of angelic or even divine

• HwBath, I attributes.*

THE PEINCB OF THE DEVILS. 141

The appearance of Jesus as a miracle- worker so different Qhap.xll
from themselves, must have excited the Rabbinnical schools
greatly. They made no little gain from their exorcisms, and
now they were in danger of being wholly discredited.^^ At »• g^*;'*,,,
a loss what to do, they determined to slander what they ^^ *«• i«-
could not deny, and attribute the miracles of Jesus to a
league with the devil. They had, indeed, for some time
back been whispering this insinuation about,^^ to poison " m*"- »• »*•
the minds of the people against Him, as an emissary of
Satan, and thus, necessarily, a disguised enemy of Israel,
and of man. It would raise superstitious terror, if they
could brand Him as a mere instrument of the kingdom of
darkness.

The cure of a man, blind, dumb, and possessed, was so
astounding, that the Rabbis ventured to spread their malig-
nant slanders more widely than heretofore. Jesus had re-
tired to Peter's house, wearied and faint, after the miracle,
but the multitude were so greatly excited that they crowded
into the room, so that He could not even eat, and among
them the Jerusalem Scribes, who were so bitter against Him,
took care to find themselves. He read their faces, and knew
their words. "This fellow, unauthorized and uneducated
as He is, casts out devils, under Beelzebub, as their prince."
They believed that the world of evil spirits, like that of the
angels, formed a great army, in various divisions, each with
its head and subordinateSj its rank and file; the whole
under the command of Satan. Beelzebubi2_tiie " fifth »« B^torf^m
god," — was the name given by Jewish wit and contempt to J:^V mT
Beelzebul,^^ — "the lord of the (royal) habitation" — a god of Duigei^m

' \ w / 1 /» 1 Honsog, 1. 769.

the Phenicians. To him was assigned the control of that ^renbourg.
division which inflicted disease of all kinds on man, Tri.tr«n.827.
and Jesus, they hinted, was playing a part under him,
in pretending to drive out devils from the sick; that He
might win the people to listen to His pestiferous teaching.
They would not admit that His power was divine, and the
ideas of the times necessarily assumed that it must be the
opposite. It was of no avail that light streamed in on
them ; for bigotry, like the pupil of the eye, contracts in pro-
portion to the outward brightness. He was, with them, an

142 THE LIFB OF CHRIST.

oHAP.xLL emissary and champion of the kingdom of the devil, and an
enemy of God.

They even went farther. Not only was He in league with

" iiuks. 80. the devil ; He Himself was possessed with an unclean spirit,^
and the demon in Him had turned His brain : "He had a

" John 10. 20. devil, and was mad."^* They had spread this far and wide,
and yet, ventured, now, into His presence.

Jesus at once challenged them for their slanders, and
brought them, in the presence of the multitude, to an
account. " His whole life was before the world. The aim
and spirit of it were transparent. Was it not expressly to
fight against the evil and confused spirit of the day ,• to
overthrow all wickedness and all evil ; to restore moral and
spiritual soundness in the people ; did He not strive after all
this, with the fulness of His power ? Who could deny that
He only sought good, and spent all His energy to advance
it ? And could He league Himself with the prince of dark-
ness to do good? What a ridiculous, self-contradictory
charge ! To think of Him overcoming evil by evil ; fighting
against the kingdom of darkness, with the weapons of dark-
ness, was almost too foolish to repeat I No kingdom is in
conflict with itself, or if there be division in it, it is already
in process of dissolution, for it needs nothing more to bring
it quickly to ruin."® There was no answering such an argu-
ment. But Jesus had still more to say.

" If I," said He, " cast out devils by the power of Beelzebub,

w Dewnbourg, by whom do your disciples cast them out ? ^^ You do not

sermoni, L ' attribute their works to the prince of devils, why do you do

so with mine ? But if I do these things by the power of

God, I prove myself to be sent from Him, and to be His

M weidwnann. Mcssiah, aud whcrc the Messiah is, there also is His Kingdom.

16

Dantel

imgea, 99. j)q yQ^ gt^ hcsitatc to draw this conclusion ? Ask your-
selves, then, how I can invade the kingdom of Satan, and
take from him his servants, instruments, and victims, the
sick, and the possessed, without having first overcome him-
self ? The strong man's palace can only be spoiled when he,
himself, is first bound. It is no light matter to put your-
selves in the position you take towards me. He who is not
with me, is, as may be seen in your case, my enemy. No

THB SLANBEB CONFUTED. 143

neutrality between the Messiah and the devil is possible. K ohap.xll
you do not help, with me, to gather in the harvest, you
scatter it and hinder its being gathered 1"^^ » umnMm,««.

The arguments of Jesus were so irresistible that the Rabbis, g^g^, u^
taken in the snares they had set for Him, could say nothing, ^^
and, now, while they were silenced before the people they
had striven to pervert, He advanced from defence to attack.
They claimed to be the righteous of the land, but had no idea
of what true righteousness meant. Jesus, had come to offer
forgiveness to sinners, not to judge them. He desired rather
to deliver them from their guilt. But He saw that His
enemies, the theologians and clergy of the day, and the
privileged classes generally, had determined to reject Him,
whatever proofs of His divine mission He might advance.
Their prejudices and self-interest had blinded them till their
religious faculty was destroyed. They had deliberately
refused to be convinced, and conscience grows dead if its
convictions are slighted. The heart gets incapable of seeing
the truth against which it haa closed itself. They dared to
speak of the Holy Spirit of God who inspired the New
Kingdom, and in whose fulness Jesus wrestled against
selfishness and ambition, soothed the woes of the people,
opened a pure and heavenly future, and sought to win men
to eternal life, as a spirit of evil. Light was to them dark-
ness, and darkness light. They even sought to quench the
light in its source by plotting against His life. This, He
told them, was blasphemy against the Divine Spirit. They
had wilfully rejected the clear revelation of His presence
and power, and had shown deliberate and conscious enmity
against Him. "This awful sin," said He, " cannot be forgiven,
because, when it occurs, the religious faculty has been
voluntarily destroyed, and wilful, declared opposition to
heavenly truth has possessed the soul as with a devil." " To
speak against me as a man," He continued, "and not
recognize me as the Messiah, is not a hopeless sin, for better
knowledge, a change of heart, and faith, may come, and I
may be acknowledged. But it is different when the truth
itself is blasphemed ; when the Holy Spirit, by whom alone
the heart can be changed, is contemned as evil.^® The soul " ^^J^^^l

O 7 Sohenkol, 106.

BfinDOAT.988

144 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

OHAPjcLL has then shut out the light, aad has chosen darkness as its
portion.'

" I warn you to beware of speaking thus any longer.
Either decide that the tree is good and its fruit conse-
quently good, or that it is bad and its fruit bad, but do not
act so foolishly as you have done in your judgment on me,
by calling the tree bad — that is, calling me a tool of the
devil, and yet ascribing good fruit to me — such, I mean, as
the casting out devils. Do not think what you say is mere
words, for words rise from the heart, as if from the root of
the man : as the tree and the stem, such is the fruit. See
that you do your duty by yourselves, that the tree of your
own spiritual being be good and bear good fruit. The tree
is known by its fruits. It is no wonder you blaspheme as
you have done ; a generation of vipers, your hearts are evil,
and you are morally incapable of acknowledging the truth,
for the lips speak as the heart feels. Witness to the truth
flows from the lips of the good ; such language as yours,
from the lips of the evil. But, beware, for I tell you that,
as such words are the utterance of the heart, and show how
you are affected towards God and His Spirit, you will have
to give account of them when I come as the Messiah, to
judgment. Your words respecting me and my Kingdom

!• sehieier- wiU thcu lustifv or condcmu you."^^
JJ«5^' At this point, as was common in the most solemn Jewish
assemblies, He was interrupted by some of the Rabbis present.
They demanded in strange contradiction to the theory that
He was a secret agent of Beelzebub, some astounding miracle,
as a sign from heaven in support of His claims as the
Messiah : as hereafter they did, in every part of the world,

»i dor. 1.22. from the Apostles.^^ The masses, and even their leaders,
expected the repetition of all the great deeds of Moses and
Joshua, to inaugurate the coming of the Messiah, and other
claimants did not venture to resist the demand. Under the
Procurator Fadus, a certain Theudas drew out the people to
the Jordan to see Israel walk through, once more, on dry

tt AntttCui. ground.^^ Under Felix, a prophet promised to throw down
the walls of Jerusalem, as Joshua did those of Jericho, and
gathered thirty thousand men on the Mount of Olives to see

THE SIGN OF JONAH. 145

them fall.^^ Others invited the nation to follow them into ohap.xll
the wilderness, where they promised to show them stupen- « Ben. jud. i.
dous signs of the kingdom of God having come.^^ It might " g*"^J°<*- *•
have seemed a temptation to On^ possessing supernatural
power, to silence all cavil by a miracle of irresistible grandeur.
But outward acknowledgment of His claims was of no worth
in a kingdom like that of Christ's, resting on love, and
homage to holiness. He cared nothing for popularity or
fume, and lived in unbroken self-restraint, using His mighty
power only to further spiritual ends. It was easy, there-
fore, to repel the seduction, which He had already overcome
in His first great wilderness struggle. "An evU and
adulterous generation," said He — " unfaithful to God, who
chose Israel for His bride— asks for a sign, grand beyond all
I have given, that I am the Messiah." Then, predicting His
violent death. He went on — " There shall be no sign giyen
it, but that of the prophet Jonah. For, as he was three days
and three nights in the belly of the fish, so shall the Son of
Man be three days and three nights in the kingdom of the
dead."^ The spiritual miracle of His life and words were the
only signs He could vouchsafe while He lived, for at no
time did He lay stress on miracles alone as a means of
gaining disciples, but subordinated them to His proclamation
of the Truth.^ His preaching would itself be a sign like
that of the preaching of Jonah to the Ninevites.^^ "The«Bchenkei,
men of that city," said He, "would rise in the judgment mJuSJIs^Jw.
day, to witness against this generation, for they repented ^"•**"^®'
at the preaching of Jonah, and He was greater than that
prophet. The Queen of the South, who came from Sheba
to hear the wisdom of Solomon, would then condemn them,
for she came from the uttermost parts of the earth, and
great as they thought the glory of Solomon,* they had one
greater than He before them, in Himself Vast multitudes
had gone out to hear John, and had professed repentance ;
vast multitudes had followed Himself, and, yet, the result
had been only temporary and superficial. It would prove
with this generation as with a man from whom an unclean
spirit has for a time gone out. Meeting no suiting rest else
where, it returns, and finding its former dwelling in the
VOL. II. 49

146 THE UFB OF CHRIST.

CHAP.XLL man's soul ready for it, it allies itself with seven demons
still worse than itself, and with their help enters the man
once more. The Reformation under John, and under Him-
self, was only temporary. ; the nation would fall back again
« Hananfim to its old siuful wavs, aud become worse than ever."^^ He

878.

Kdm, It 488. foresaw His rejection, and thus foretold it.

He had silenced the Rabbis, and no doubt by doing so had
intensified their hatred ; but a new trial awaited Him. The
insinuation that His brain was affected had reached His
family, who still lived at Nazareth. The effects of the ex-
hausting toil, and constant excitement of these months, had,
apparently, led even His friends to fear that He would give
way under such tension, and, now, the hints of the Rabbis
that He was possessed, and spoke and acted as He did, under
demoniacal influence, raised the fear that judicial action
would be begun against Him, on the part of the Jerusalem
«• Lightfoot,iL authorities.^^ Very possibly the simple household at Naza-
reth, who, like other Jews, must have looked on the Rabbis
with superstitious reverence, and have shrunk from question-
ing anything they said, had innocently accepted the insinua-
tion, that He was really out of His mind, as a result of
being possessed. Prejudiced in favour of the common idea
of the Messiah as a national hero, at the head of Jewish
armies, they had not risen to any higher conception, and
felt impelled by every motive to interfere, and, if possible,
put a stop to what seemed to them an unaccountable
course of action on His part. It was only about ten hours'
distance from Nazareth to Capernaum, over the hills ; they
would go and see for themselves;^ and so, Mary, and the
brothers and sisters of Jesus — the whole household, for
Joseph was dead — set out for Peter's house.

They arrived while the crowd, excited by the miracle they
had just seen, and half believing that Jesus must be the
expected Messiah, stiU filled the house and thronged the
courtyard, so that the Rabbis, overawed, could do nothing
against Him. Anxious to withdraw Him from His dangerous
course, and unable as yet to understand Him, they had come
to the conclusion, perhaps at the instigation of the Rabbis,
that the best plan would be to lay hold on Him, and take

'•MY MOTHER AND MY BRETHREN." 147

Him home by force, as one beside Himself. If they could keep chai^xli.
Him for a time at Nazareth; if necessary, under restraint; the
quiet, they hoped, would calm His mind and free Him from
His hallucinations. It is wonderful that they could argue
with themselves in such a way — especially that Mary could
have fancied it madness that He acted as he did and called
Himself the Messiah ; but vision, in spiritual things as in
nature, depends, not on the flood of light around us, but on
the eye on which it falls.

On coming near, however, they found they could not make
their way through the crowd, and had to request those near
to let Him know their presence, and that they wished to
speak with Him. At any moment wten busy with the
work of the Kingdom, all lower relations, bonds, and cares,
of His earlier life, ceased to engage Him, but mux^h more
was it so at a time like this, when engrossed with its supreme
interests, and with the victory over its enemies which He
had hardly as yet completed. The most sacred of earthly
ties lost its greatness before the grandeur of spiritual kinship
in the new deathless communion He was founding. " Who is
my mother?" asked He, "and who are my brethren?" Then,
stretching His hands towards those around Him — " Behold,"
said He, " my mother and my brethren ! For whosoever
shall do the will of my Father in Heaven,^^ the same is my « uiimann, w.
brother, and sister, and mother."^^ It was the same answer, *" ^^\l'^
in effect, as He had, perhaps before this, given, when a 5^*8.81-
woman in the crowd, unable to restrain herself had expressed Lilke s. 19-
aloud her sense of the surpassing honour of her who had
borne and nursed Him. "Yea," replied He, "rather, blessed
are they that hear the Word of God and keep it."

It was from no want of tenderness Jesus thus spoke. A
holy duty to Himself, His honour, and His calling, demanded
His acting as He did. It was imperative that He should
keep Himself from the hands even of His nearest friends, to
prevent their unconsciously carrying out the plans of His
enemies, by violently restraining Him. He had, moreover,
founded a new family of which He was the Spiritual Head,
and this, henceforth, as it spread among men, was to be His
supreme earthly relationship. The ready faith of tlie

148 THE LIFE OP CHBIST.

oHAP.m. Samaritans, and the surpassing example of the heathen
centurion, had foreshadowed the extension of the New
Kingdom, beyond Israel, to all nations. To do the will of
mere men, whether priests, or Rabbis, was no longer the
condition of heavenly favour. Henceforth, over the earth,
to do the will of God was the one condition required to open
the gates of the way of life.

Foiled in their attempt to brand Jesus publicly as in
league with the devil, the Pharisees*^ resolved to try the
subtler plan of pretending friendliness, and inviting Him to
partake of their hospitality, that they might watch what He
said, and, if possible, provoke Him to commit Himself in
some way that would bring Him within the reach of the
Law. It was yet early, and one of them asked Him, with
this trejicherous object, to join the light morning meal,
then lately introduced into Palestine by the Romans.^ He
accepted the invitation, with a full knowledge of the spirit
in which it had been given. It had been expected, perhaps,
that the honour of entertainment in a circle of Rabbis, would
awe a layman of humble standing like Jesus, but He took
care to show His true bearing towards them from the moment
He reclined at table. Washing the hands before eating
was, in all cases, a vital requirement of Pharisaic duty. A
Rabbi would rather have suffered death than eat before he
had done so. " It is better," said Rabbi Akiba, "in a time
of persecution, to die of thirst than to break the conamand-
ment, and thus die eternally," and proceeded to wash his
hands before touching food, with the allowance of drinking

« Ernbin^foL watcr brought him by his jailor. "^^ But observance of Phari-
saic rules required much more. Christ had just come from
among a crowd, and had, besides, cast out a devil, and, thus
doubly defiled, ought to have purified Himself by a bath,
before coming to table with those who were LeviticaUy clean.
A Pharisee always bathed himself before eating, on coming

» Mark 7. 4. from thc markct-placc,^^ to wash away the defilement of cou-

godwmis. tact with the unclean multitude, and it was to have been

* ®^ expected that Jesus would liave been equally scrupulous.™

He had committed Himself, however, to uncompromising

opposition to a system which substituted forms for true

THE OUTSIDE OP THE FLATTEB. 149

spiritual religion, and took His place on the couch with- ^'harxli.
out any ceremonial purification. The host and his guests
were astonished, and betrayed, at least in their looks, their
real feelings towards Him ; bitter enough before, but now
fiercer than ever, at this defiant affront to their cherished
usages.

•

Roused by their uncourteous hostility, He instantly took
His position of calm independence and superiority, for He
feared no human face, nor any combination of human violence.
Knowing perfectly that He was alone against the world, He
felt that the Truth required Him to witness for it, come what
might to Himself.

" I see," said He, " what you are thinking. You Pharisees
clean the outside of the cup and the platter,^^ but you fill " Luke u. s?-
both, within, with the gains of hypocritical robbery and
wickedness; you cleanse the outside of a cup, and think
nothing of your own souls being full of all evil." Fools 1 did
not He who made the outside of a cup make the inside as
well ? As He made all outward and visible things, has He
not also made all inward and spiritual ? How absurd to take
so much care of the one, and to neglect the other I Let me
tell you how you may attain true purification. Give with
willing, loving hearts, what you have in your cups and
platters, as alms, and this will make all your ceremonial
washings of the outside superfluous, and cleanse both the
vessels and your hearts. The Rabbis have told you that
'charity is worth all other virtues together, '^^ but your « ai^ atthnK
coveiousness is a proverb, for you devour widows' houses,
and have invented excuses for a son robbing even his father
for your good.^ But woe to you, Pharisees ! for it is vain to » Matt 23. u.
expect this of you, who know nothing of true love. You lay ^ork, ui.
stress on external trifles, and neglect the principles and
duties of the inner life — ^you tithe petty garden herbs, like
mint^ and rue, and all kinds besides, and are indifferent to
right and wrong, and to the love of God. If you wish to
tithe the garden herbs,^^ it is well to do so, but you should** Trtatnim,4i9,
be as zealous for what is much more important.** Your vanity
is as great as your grasping hypocrisy! Woe unto you,
Pharisees I for ye love the chief seats in the synagogues, and

150 THE LIFE OF CHBIST.

CHAP. xLi. to be flattered by men rising up as you pass in the crowded
market-place, and greeting you with reverend salutations
" schurer, 44S. of Rabbi, Rabbi, your reverence, your reverence.*^ Woe
unto you ! you are like graves sunk in the earth, over which
men walk, thinking the ground clean, and are defiled
when they least suspect it.P Men think themselves with
saints if in your company, but to be near you is to be near
pollution ! "

A Rabbit among the guests here interrupted Him.
"Teacher," said he, "you are condemning not only the
common lay Pharisees, but us, the Rabbis." The interruption
only directed Jesus against the " lawyers" specially. " Woe
to you, lawyers, also!" said He, "for ye burden men with
burdens grievous to be borne, while ye, yourselves, touch not
these burdens with one of your fingers to help the shoulders
to bear them. Ye sit in your chambers and schools, and
create legal rules, endless, harassing, intolerable, for the
people, but not affecting yourselves, — ^shut out as you are
from busy life. Woe unto you 1 for ye build the tombs of
the prophets, but your fathers, in whose acts you glory,
killed them. Shame for their having done so might make
you wish those sacred tombs forgotten ; but you have no
shame, and rebuild these tombs to win favour with the
people, while in your hearts you are ready to repeat to the
prophets of to-day the deeds of your fathers towards those
of old I Your pretended reverence for these martjrrs, shown
ii\ restoring their sepulchres, while you are ready to repeat
the wickedness of their murderers, makes these tombs a
witness against you. The Holy Spirit had this in view,
when He said by Me, sometime since,' * I will send them
prophet^ and apostles, and some of them they will perse-
cute and kill; that the blood of all the prophets, shed
from the foundation of the world, may be required of this
generation — from the blood of Abel to that of Zachariah,
who perished between the altar and the Temple.' Yes, I say
unto you, it will be required of this generation. Under the
guidance of you lawyers it was, that the people treated them
as they did ! Woe to you ! you have taken away from the
nation the key to the temple of heavenly knowledge — have

A REQUEST DENIED. 151

made them incapable of recognizing the truth, — by your ohap.xll
teaching. You, yourselves, have not entered, and you have
hindered those from entering who were on the point of
doing so 1 "

The die was finally cast. Henceforth Jesus stood con-
sciously alone, the rejected of the leaders of His nation.
There was before Him only a weary path of persecution,
and, at its end, the Cross. An incident, recorded by St.
Luke, seems to belong to this period. The multitudes
thronging to hear the new teaching were daily greater, in
spite of the hostility of the Rabbis, for their calumnies and
insinuations had not yet abated the general excitement.
" An innumerable multitude" waited for the reappearance
of Jesus, and hung on His lips to catch every word. He
might be attacked and slandered in the house of the
Pharisee, but, as yet, the crowd looked on Him with astonish-
ment and respect. Opinions differed only as to the scope of
His action : that He was a great Rabbi, was felt by alL

It was the custom to refer questions of all kinds to the
Rabbis for their counsel and decision, which carried great
weight, though it might be informal and extra-judicial. Their
words were virtually law, for to dispute or oppose them was
well-nigh criminal.^^ To get the support of one so great as «• mBsamimgw,
Jesus, therefore, in any matter, would, as it seemed, decide
a point at once in his favour whom He supported.

One of the crowd, reasoning thus, chose an opportunity
to solicit His weighty interference in a question of inheri-
tance,*^ in which there was a strife with a brother. " Liikeu.ia.fl
" Teacher," said he, " speak to my brother, that he divide the
inheritance with me." But he had utterly misconceived
Christ's spirit and sphere. In the briefest and most direct
words, the idea that He had anything to do with "judging"
or " dividing" in worldly afiairs was repudiated. It was not
His province.

The .question, however, gave an occasion for solemn
warning against the unworthy greed and selfishness which
lie at the root of all such strife, on one side or the other.
Addressing the crowd, who had heard the request. He
gave them a caution against all forms of covetousness, or

152 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

0HAR3XL excessive desire of worldly possessions, in the following
parable.

"Watch," said He, "and keep yourselves from all covetous-
ness. For, though a man may abound in riches, his life
does not depend on his wealth, but on the will of God, who
can lengthen or shorten his existence, and make it happy
or sad, at His pleasure. Let me show you what I mean.

" The ground of a certain rich man brought forth plenti-
fully. And he reasoned within himself, saying, *What
shall I do, because I have no room to stow away my crops ? *
And he said, * This will I do. I will pull down my bams and
build greater, and I will gather together into them all my
crops and my property, and will say to my soul. Soul, thou
hast much property laid up for many years ; take thine, ease,
cat, drink, and be merry.'

" But God said unto him, * Fool, this night thy soul is
required of thee, and whose will those things be which thou
hast prepared ? ' "

" So," added Jesus, " is he who heaps up treasures for
himself, and is not rich towards God. Death, coming un-
expectedly, and, at latest, soon strips him of all, if he has only
thought of himself and of this world. The true wisdom is to
use what we have so as to lay up treasures, by its right
employment, in heaven, that God may give us these, after
death, in the kingdom of the Messiah,"

ATXEB THIC STOmL 153

CHAPTER XLIL

AFTER THE STORM.

THE meal in the house of the Pharisee was a turning ohap.xlh,
point in the life of Jesus. The fierceness of His enemies
had broken out into open rage, so that, as He left, He was
followed by the infuriated Rabbis, gesticulating,^ as they » Lake u. ««.
pressed round Him, and provoking Him to commit Himself
by words of which they might lay hold. A vast crowd had
meanwhile gathered,^ partly on His side, partly turned « Lnk© la. i.
against Him by the arts of His accusers. The excitement
had reached its highest.

With such a multitude before Him, it was certain that
He would not let the opportunity pass of proclaiming afresh
the New Kingdom of God. It had been called a kingdom of
the devil, and it was meet that He should turn aside the
calumny. His past mode of teaching did not,* however,
seem suited for the new circumstances. It had left but
small permanent results ; and a new and still simpler
style of instruction, specially adapted to their dulness and
untrained minds and hearts, would at least arrest their
attention more surely, and force them to a measure of reflec-
tion. Pressing through the vast throng, to the shore of the
Lake, He entered a fishing-boat, and, sitting down at its
prow, the highest part of it, began, from this convenient
pulpit, as it lightly rocked on the waters, the first of those
wondrous parables, in which He henceforth so frequently
embodied His teachings.

The Parable or Mashal was a mode of instruction already
familiar to Israel since the days of the Judges,^ and was in fami- • Jn^gm ». t.
liar and constant use among the Rabbis. Its characteristic e«*-i«.u4».
is the presentation of moral and religious truth in a more

154 THE LIFE OP CHRIST.

CHAR xm. vivid form than is possible by mere precept, or abstract
statement, use being made for this end of some incident
drawn from life or nature, by which the lesson sought to be
given is pictured to the eye, and thus imprinted on the
memory, and made more emphatic. Analogies hitherto
imsuspccted between familiar natural facts and spiritual
phenomena; lessons of duty enforced by some simple imagi-
narynarrative or incident; striking parallels and comparisons,
which made the homeliest trifles symbols of the highest
truths, abound in all the discourses of Jesus, but are still
more frequent from this time. Nothing was henceforth left
unused. The light, the darkness, the houses around, the
games of childhood^ the sightless wayside beggar, the foxes
of the hills, the leathern bottles hung up from every rafter,
the patched or new garment, and even the noisy hen amidst
her chickens, served, in turn, to illustrate some lofty truth.
The sower on the hill-side at hand, the flaming weeds
among the com, the common mustard plant, the leaven in the
woman's dough, the treasure disclosed by the passing plough-
share, the pearl brought by the travelling merchant from
distant lands for sale at Bethsaida or Tiberias, — at Philip's
court or that of Antipas, — ^the draw-net seen daily on the Lake,
the pitiless servant, the labourers in the vineyards around —
any detail of every-day life — was elevated, as occasion de-
manded, to be the vehicle of the sublimest lessons. Others
have uttered parables ; but Jesus so far transcends them, that
He may justly be called the creator of this mode of instruc-

* EoMux'BVJe tion.*
de J^oa, 187. ^^^ /» r

^ttiikiSa. ^^ fi^^^ ^f tb® wondrous series was, fitly, that of the
L^t^il' Sower, for the planting of the New Kingdom must needs be
the first stage towards further truths respecting it. In a
country like Galilee no illustration could be more easily
intelligible, and it is no wonder that Jesus often uses it. As
He sat in the boat, with the multitude standing on the shore,
each feature of the parable would be before Him, — ^the
sower going out from the neighbouring town or village to
sow his patch on the unenclosed hill-side, with its varied soil ;
here warm and deep ; there a mere skin over the limestone
rock; invaded at some spots by thorns, then, as now, so

THE FABABLE. 155

plentiful in Palestine, and crossed by the bridle path, along charxml

which men and beasts were passing constantly. The seed

was good, and the sower faithfully did his work, but it

depended on the soil itself, what would be the result, for the

rain, and the light, and the heat, came equally on all. Part fell

on the trodden path, — ^which, itself, though now beaten hard,

was once as soft and yielding as any part of the field, — and

was crushed under foot, or picked up by the birds hovering

near. Some fell on spots in which the springing thistles had

already taken root, and were about to shoot up in rank vigour;

some on the shallow skin of earth over the rock, where the

hot sun hastened the growth, while the hard rock hindered

the root from striking down ; and only a part fell on good

soil, and yielded a return for the sower's toil.*

This parable, apparently so self-illustrative, only troubled
the minds of the Twelve, and of the wider circle in His hearers
who had any interest in His words.^ The mode of teaching » M»rk 4. w.
was new to them from Jesus,^ and the conceptions embodied* Mark 4.8s. si.

. , , T Matt. 18. 84:

in what they had heard were directly opposite to all they had ^^' ^^
been accustomed, as Jews, to associate with the Messianic
kingdom. The careless multitude, drawn together only by
curiosity, had scattered when Jesus had finished His address,
and He had returned to Peter's house. Thither, however, a
number of graver spirits followed, with the Twelve, to seek
the explanation they felt assured would be vouchsafed. It
was, indeed, precisely what Jesus desired, for it afforded an
opportunity for the fuller instruction of all whose state of
heart fitted them to receive it, and it drew them into closer
personal intercourse with Him. He received them with frank
delight. "Unto you, who thus show your interest in the
mysteries of the kingdom of God," said He, " it is given to
know them, but to the indifferent outside multitude,*^ they » Mark 4. 11.
are designedly left veiled in parable." To understand spiritual
truth, the heart must be in sympathy with it ; otherwise, to
try to explain it, would be as idle as to speak of colours to
the blind, or of music to the deaf. When the religious
faculty was dead or dormant, religious truth was necessarily
incomprehensible and undesired. " He came to be a Light to
men,^ and to reveal the truth, not to hide it, but men must • Murk 1 21.

156 THE LIFE OF CHBIST.

cHARxm. have willing ears,^ and take heed to what they hear,^
"•^i^4.M pondering over it in their hearts. To listen only with the
outward ear, like the careless multitude, is to draw down
the punishment of God. In natures thus wilfully indifferent,
hardness only grows the worse the more they hear. To
such, the very word of life becomes a word of death.
Rejecting me, the Light, they are given up by God to the
darkness they have chosen, and lose, erelong, even the super-
» ficial interest in higher things they may have had."

"Ye, on the other hand," He continued, "who really
have received the truth into a willing heart, have thereby
proved- your fitness for higher disclosures, and shall have
" UArk4.2i them.^^ The honest interest you show determines the
measure of knowledge you are able to receive, and it will be
given you.^ He who has opened his soul to Me will receive
continually richer insight into the truth. Alas for those who
shut their eyes and stop their ears I But blessed are your
eyes, into which you have let the truth enter, and blessed
are your ears, into which you have let it sink. Amen ! I
say to you, many prophets and righteous men longed to see
those things which ye see, and did not see them ; and to hear
" Matti8.i«,i7. those things which ye hear, and did not hear them."^^

Such, in brief explanatory paraphrase, was the welcome to
those really anxious to understand the parable, which Jesus
forthwith expounded to them, disclosing, as He did so,
conceptions and principles which required a complete revo-
lution in their minds to understand and appropriate. He
announced that the ancient kingdom of God was, henceforth,
spiritualized, so that the only relation of man to it, from this
time, was a moral one; not, as heretoforef, in part, a political.
So entirely, indeed, was this the case, that He did not even
speak of the external agencies or organization by which men
should be outwardly received as its citizens, but assumed that
acceptance depended on the man himself; on His mil and
His sympathy with what the New Kingdom offered. " The
Word is the only Seed of the Gospel. As the embodiment of
all truth, it is by following it that the Will of God is realized
by men, and the one grand law of the kingdom thus obeyed
It is given to men, as the seed to the ground, and they can

I

I

THE EXPOSITION BY JESUS. 157

hear and understand it if they choose, but all depends on oHAP.mL

their doing so. As the strewn seed neither springs nor bears

fruit on much of the ground, and fails except where it sinks

into good soil, so the relations of men to the Word of God

are very various. Few, it may be, receive it aright, but it

is always the fault of men themselves if it be not living seed

in their hearts. Worldly indiflference may have made the

soil impenetrable as the trodden path, or have left only a

skin of sentiment over hidden callousness ; or worldly cares

or pleasures may be let spring up, and choke the better

growth ; in all cases it is the man, not the seed, or the sower,

on whom the result turns. Before all things, this is to be

felt, so that no one may imagine that entrance into the New

Kingdom depends on any but moral conditions. Every

merely outward claim to citizenship must be laid aside ; it

is a matter strictly between God and the souL The more

completely this is done, the greater the fitness for entrance.

He must be willing simply to receive, without a thought of

merit, or right, what God is pleased to give, of His free

bounty. The New Kingdom is, in truth, altogether spiritual.

It works directly on the soul, by spiritual truth. It advances

in the individual and the world, not by outward power, or

political glory, or by miracles, but by the Word sown in the

heart, and its aim, like its nature, is spiritual ; to make the

heart and life visibly fruitful in all heavenly grace." ^® u Baw. oe-

As the parable of the Sower described the planting of the |eta, ii. 44a
New Kingdom in the heart, others set forth the secret JJi^^****
invisible energy of the Word, by the indestructible vigour of s^^
which the New Kingdom unfolds itself in the individual and SSi|ten. iv.

O . 707,721,789,

m the world. It was compared to the silent and mysterious ^ ^«»

growth of seed, which springs up by unperceived develop- sSienkttiS:

ment, first into the blade, then into the ear, and, finally. Book, w.

into the ripened corn. The triumphant future found an gS5,J^g

analogy in the growth of a grain of mustard-seed — ^which, mSS^iS: ^'*

though among the smallest, grows to be the greatest amongst ^^^^\

herbs, shooting out wide branches, and becoming a tree, in ^
the shade of which the birds of the air come and lodge.
It found another in the silent leavening of three measures
of meal by a spot of yeast, hidden in them. As surely as

158 THE LIFE OF CHBI8T.

cHAP^xLiL the seed will spring, or the mustard-seed become a tree,* or
the yeast spread through all the three measures of meal, — ^as
certainly as the spark spreads to a flame, — the New Kingdom
will grow and expand to world-wide glory. It needs no
battles to be won, as the hearers fancied it did ; no violent
revolutions. Jesus knew that the living force of truth in
each single heart must spread, and that, as soul after soul was
won, it would silently revolutionize the world, and leaven
all humanity.

That there should be hindrances was only natural, and
these He shadowed out in the parable of the Tares secretly
sown by an enemy in a man's field, and undistinguishable
"pimMin,2M. from thc CTaiu till both had come to fruit. ^* For the sake
44-M. Qf tjjQ wheat both were left, by the householder, till the
harvest, but, in the end, the tares would be gathered for
burning, and the wheat for the bam.^ The full meaning of
this parable was given afterwards by Jesus Himself. The
visible Church would include in it, till the last day, many
who were not true members. To separate them is not the
part of man, but of the Judge. But this is, and could be,
meant only in a general sense, for the whole spirit of the
Gospels implies the rejection of the openly unworthy, and
their reception again on their repentance. "Those who
to-day are thorns," says Augustine, "may be wheat to-
morrow."

"So," said He, also, "my kingdom may be likened to a net
cast into the lake ; which gathers in it good fish and bad,
and, when full, is drawn to shore, and- the good gathered
into vessels while the bad are cast away."®

The supreme worth of citizenship in His kingdom He set
forth in separate parables. It was like a treasure hidden in
a field/ which, when found, so filled the heart of the dis-
coverer, that, for joy, he went away, and sold all he had,
and bought the field, that the treasure might be his. Or, it
was like a priceless pearl met with by a merchant seeking
such a treasure, and secured by him at the cost of all he
had. The kingdom might be found by some without their
seeking it, as the treasure by the peasant in the field ; or it
might be met by one in earnest search for it, like him who

CAPERNAUM LEFT. 159

found the costly pearl. In either case, it could only be ohap^l
obtained by joyful self-sacrifice of all things else for its sake,
and by the realization of the worthlessness of all human
possessions in comparison with it.

It is not certain that all these parables were spoken the
same day, though there is nothing improbable in the suppo-
sition that Jesus should have given such a free utterance to
the wealth of imagery and illustration which flowed from
His lips with no mental ejffort. But the evening came at
last, and found Him wearied out with the work and agitations
of such an eventful day. Capernaum could, however, no
longer be the quiet home for Him which it had been. The
fierce rage of the priests and schoolmen iri the morning, and
their intrigue with the household of Nazareth to lay hold
on Him as a madman, possessed with a devil, showed that
they would stop at no wickedness to get Him into their
power. The controversy respecting Him had penetrated
every humble cottage, and quiet work was no longer possible.
Moreover, it was necessary to introduce His disciples to a
wider sphere of life and work than Capernaum and the
little districts round it, in preparation for their independent
action, and to form and strengthen their character and
power of self-reliance by putting it to the proof, and reveal-
ing to them the weaknesses yet to be overcome.

The wall of lonely hills on the east side of the Lake,
seamed by deep gorges through which the path led to the
vast upland plains of the eastern Jordan — a region little
known to the busy population of Galilee, and in bad repu-
tation with most, as more heathen than Jewish — ofiered Him
a secure retreat. Instead of returning to Peter's house,
where new troubles might have awaited Him, He ordered His
disciples to carry Him to the opposite shore, that He might
escape from all painful scenes, and enjoy peace and rest for
a time. His enemies would not be likely to seek a Rabbi
like Him in such an unclean district; least of all, in the
neighbourhood He first visited — ^that of the heathen city,
Gadara.

But the incidents of the day were not yet over. The
streets on the way to the boat were full with the evening

160 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

cHAP.xLiL gossips, glad to talk -with their neighbours in the gathering
twilight, now their day's work was done ; and, with others
lingering about, in the hope of seeing the great Rabbi. A
number of these soon gathered round Christ and His dis-
ciples as they made towards the shore, and at last the silence
was broken by one of them, strange to say, himself a Rabbi,
I* Teaser offering to foUow Him as His scholar. " Teacher," ^^ said
iJrJorSlbw ^^' "^ ^'^^ follow Thee wherever you go."«^ It might have
MlikiwlS: seemed a great thing for one in the position of Jesus to have
Luko8.8«-.». ^ ^}y}^[ among His disciples, but He never courted human

aid, or acted on mere expediency. The highest, no less
than the humblest, could only be received on the condition
of absolute self-sacrifice and sincerity. Nor did He readily
accept those who offered themselves, but chose rather to
summon such as He wished, to His immediate circle. " Ye
have not chosen me," said He, on a future occasion, " but I

»• John i«. 16. have chosen you."^^ He returned, therefore, only an answer
which should test the applicant's motives to the uttermost
" The foxes have holes, and the birds of the air nests, but
the Son of Man hath not where to lay His head." Virtually
driven from the one dwelling at Capernaum He could regard
as His home, and rejected from Nazareth, He was, hence-
forth, a wanderer, with no fixed dwelling. From this
time He was almost a fugitive from His enemies, never
remaining long in any one place, — a homeless and houseless
man.

To a second applicant, who professed himself willing to
follow Him as soon as he had discharged the pious duty of
burying his father, the startling answer was returned, " Let
the (spiritually) dead bury their dead, but go thou and

i' Luke 9. 60. preach the kingdom of God."^^ Under other circumstances
Christ would have commended such filial love ; but it was
necessary now, to show, by a supreme example, that those
who sought to follow Him must deny natural feelings, other-
wise entirely sacred, when the interests of the kingdom of

i» uuiMiin, 148. God required it.^® He had in mind, doubtless, the thirty

» Hor. Heb. iL days' mouming^^ that were virtually implied, and knew the
results of indecision in a matter so paramount. It was, more-
over, a requirement of the Rabbis, in similar cases, that if any

APPLICANTS FOB BISCIPLESHIP. 161

one who wished to be a scholar of the Law, had to choose ohap.xui.
between burjdng even his nearest relation — ^his parent, or
his brother, or sister — and devoting himself at once to his
sacred duties, he should leave the burial to others, as the less
important duty, and give himself up on the moment, undi-
videdly to the other.^® The words of Jesus were the familiar » Hegoia, foi.
and well-known expression of this recognized condition of
even Rabbinical discipleship. The applicant would have
had to act thus had he chosen to follow a Rabbi, and less
devotion and sincerity could not be demanded in the service
of the New Kingdom.^

A third, who asked leave before finally following Christ,
to go home and bid his family circle farewell, received a
similar answer — " No one having put his hand to the plough,
and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God ; he who
gives himself up to the kingdom of God, must do so with
an undivided heart, suffering no earthly cares to distract
him/'

He had set out for the Lake side as soon as the multitudes
had scattered sufficiently to open the way ; and now, having
reached it. He went into a fishing-boat, just as He was,^^« mmu.b,»^.
and they pushed off in company with some other boats. It ij**4.8e-«.
was already late for Orientals to be abroad, and the rest in I'O^fi-"-^-
the open air, after such continuous mental and bodily excite-
ment, soon brought the sweet relief of deep refreshing sleep.
We never hear of Jesus being ill ; and, indeed, such a life
as His, utterly fi^e from all disturbing causes which might
induce disease, may well have been exceptionally healthy.
The coarse leather boss of the steersman's seat, at the end of
the boat, sufficed for a pillow,* and presently He forgot in
deep slumber the cares and labours of the day.

The sail across, however, though usually so refreshing and
delightful, was destined to be rudely disturbed. The Lake
lies in its deep bed among the hills, ordinarily, smooth as a
mirror, but sudden storms at times rush down every wady
on the north-east and east, and lash the waters into furious
roughness. The winds sweeping over the vast bare table-
* land of Gaulonitis and the Hauran, and the boundless desert
beyond, pour down the deep ravines and gorges, cut in the

VOL. II. 60

162 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

cHAf.xLn. course of ages by streams and torrents, on their way to the
Lake, and lash it into incredible commotion. Its position,
about six hundred feet below the Mediterranean, induces such
sudden hurricanes, by heating the air over it till the colder
atmosphere of the hills rushes down to fill the vacuum

» Winer, wind, causcd by the rarefaction.^^

bSm^sw. Such a storm now burst on the calm bosom of the waters,
and presently raised the waves to such a height, that the
unprotected boat was all but swamped. In the wild roaring
of the wind ; amidst blinding torrents of rain, and the thick
darkness of the hurricane cloud, which blotted out the stars ;
and the dashing of the sea, which broke over them^ each
moment ; even bronzed sailors like the Twelve lost their
presence of mind, and were filled with dismay. Driven
before the wind, they were fast filling, and, as it seemed,
must presently go down. Through all the wild tumult of wind,
darkness, rain, and sea, however, Jesus lay peacefully asleep,
so profoundly had He been exhausted. It seemed as if He
were indifferent to their fate. In their natural reverence
they long hesitated to rouse Him, but at last did so, and
appealed to Him to save them. Amidst the terror around.
He was entirely self-possessed. Rising, He gently rebuked
the fear that had so unnerved them, and then, with an awful
sublimity, rebuked the wind as if it had been a living power,
and bade the angry sea be still ; and both wind and sea at
once obeyed Him. A great calm spread over the Lake.^
"Why are ye fearful," said He, "O ye of little faith?"
They had seen Him control disease, cast out devils, and even
raise the dead ; could they not have felt assured that neither
winds nor waves could harm them when He was there?
"What manner of man is this? " muttered the awe-struck
apostles, " for He commandeth even the winds and water,
and they obey Him ! "

The boat had been driven to the southern end of the Lake,
and Christ consequently landed in the territory of the city
of Gadara, a half-heathen town on the table-land, twelve
hundred feet above the shore, and at some distance from it.™
It was then in its glory, and lay round the top of the hill,
looking far over the country. Long avenues of marble

THE MANIACS OF GADARA. 163

pillars lined its streets; fine buUdings of squared stones ohap. ilil
abounded. Two great amphitheatres of black basalt adorned
the west and north sides, and there was a third theatre near
its splendid public baths. It was the proud home of a great
trading community, to whom life was bright and warm
when Jesus landed that morning, on the shore beneath, and
looked up towards its walls.

The hill on which Gadara"^ stands is of soft limestone, full,
like the limestone of Palestine generally, of larger and
smaller caves, many of which had been enlarged by the
poorer classes and turned into dwelling-places,® for which
they are used even yet, while others had been converted
into tombs, with massy stone doors. The roadside is still
strewn with a number of sarcophagi of basalt, ^^ sculptured " J^*J*ff *
with low reliefs of genii, garlands, wreaths of flowers, and ^^p* *"* ^
human feces, in good preservation, though long emptied of
their dead.

* Madness in every form has, in all ages, been treated by
the rude therapeutics of the East as a supernatural visitation,
with which it is unsafe to interfere more than is needed,
and, hence, even at this day, furious and dangerous maniacs
may, from time to time, be seen in the towns of Palestine,
in some cases, absolutely . naked. Others, equally furious,
often betake themselves to the mountains, and sleep in
tombs and caves. In their paroxysms they become terribly
dangerous, for the mental excitement gives them prodigious
strength, and, hence, one is sometimes a terror to a whole
neighbourhood.^* *• bS^ i3&

Two such madmen, it seems, had taken up their abode in
the caves and tombs, by the side of the road from the Lake
to Gradara, and had made it almost impassable, from their
fierceness. Jesus had hardly set His foot on shore before
they sallied out towards Him, shrieking amidst the wild
howls of their frenzy, as they approached; in deprecation of
His interference with them. From some reason, now un-
known, St. Mark and St. Luke speak only of one of these
two sufferers, and as their account is the fuller, it is better
to keep to it. Both were more than merely insane : they
were possessed with devils, and conscious that they were so.

164 THE Ul!^ OF CHBIST.

CHAP.XLH. As in similar cases, the demoniac presence controlled the
human will, and spoke in its own name. Both had already
shown their terror at the coming of one whom they recog-
nized as the Son of God, and adjured Him not to torment
them before the time. But now the one of whom especially
St. Mark and St. Luke speak, ran and fell down before Jesus,
in the manner of Eastern reverence. He had been a terror
to the whole country side, for he would wear no clothes, but
roamed the hills naked, and would live only in the tombs.
Efforts had been made to put him in restraint, but neither
ropes, nor the chains used, had sufficed to hold him.P Night
and day he wandered the mountains, driven hither and
thither by the mysterious possession that had him in its
power, filUng the air with his howls and shrieks, and cutting
himself wit)i sharp stones in his frenzy. But a greater than
the strong man by whom he was enslaved was now here.
Though dreading His presence, the demon could not keep
away from it. It may be that, in the confused human con-
sciousness, there was yet Vi glimmer of reason and moral
health which drove him to the Saviour, but, if so, the spirit
took the word from him, and spoke in his stead. '* What is
thy name ? " said Jesus to the demon, — and the mysterious
answer was, " Legion, for we are many." Forthwith came
the command to come out of the man. But, true to diabolical
instinct, the spirits would fain injure, even in leaving. On
the slopes of the hill, a great herd of swine, the unclean and
hateful abomination of the Jew, were feeding. They were,
doubtless, owned by some of the heathen citizens of Gadara,
for swine were in great demand as sacrifices and food among
the foreign population. "Send us into the swine," cried
the devils, "and do not drive us into .the abyss," *i and the
request was granted, to the destruction of the whole herd,
which ran violently down the slope into the Lake and were
drowned. Jesus, as Son of God, was free to act at His will with
all things, for they were all His by the supreme right of crea-
tion, and this right is continually used in the moral govern-
ment of the world. There is no ground for a moment's

« uatt It IT. discussion respecting an act of One to whom all things were
LtfSf ^t, committed, as Head of the New Kingdom, by the Father.**

138. DakM,
160^ IM.

.FIRST PUBLIC OPPOSITION. 165

It is idle, in our utter ignorance of the spirit world, to chap. xlu.
raise difficulties, as some have done, at this incident. It is
recorded in three of the four Gospels, and cannot be ex-
plained away except by doing violence to the concurrent
language of the three evangelists. However mysterious,
it is no more so than many facts in the life of Jesus, and
must be taken simply as it stands.

The terror of the Apostles in the storm had shown how
little Jesus could rely on them in the far worse trials of
future years, but the mighty power He had shown in stiUing
the tumult of the elements, had been a lesson of confidence
in Him, which they could hardly forget. It was a further
step in their training to trust in Him, when they now saw
Him perform the still more wonderful miracle of stilling the
inward tempest of a human soul. In neither case could they
say a word. They stood silent and ashamed. They were
far, as yet, from having grown to the spiritual manhood of
their great office.

The new teaching of Jesus had excited, for a time, a wide
popularity tlxat had even besieged His dwelling and thronged
His person. The people had given Him their unhesitating
confidence. But His collisions with the priests and Rabbis,
and His disturbed relations to His family — ^with the whisper-
ings of calumny on all sides-had chilled the enthusiasm of
many. Distrust and suspicion had been sown in hitherto
trustful minds, and these reports had penetrated even to the
east of the Jordan. Their first open results were seen at
Gadara, for it was here He first met with open want of
sympathy with His person and work. The incident of the
destruction of the swine, infuriating tiie owners, was enough,
with what they had before heard, to turn the people against
Him. The insinuation that He cast out devils by a league
with their chief, filled weak minds with terror. He had
hardly landed, and was in sore need of rest, but was at once
forced to leave. For the first time, the disciples had an
example of that invincible unbelief they were, hereafter, to
meet so often. But, if Jesus were hindered from preaching »

in Decapolis, He had the satisfaction of leaving behind Him
the former maniac, now clothed and in his right mind, to

166 THE LDTE OF CHRIST.

oHAP.xLiL spread the fact of his deliverance. The poor man would
fain have followed his Benefactor, but Jesus had other work
for him. Contrary to His rule hitherto, He dismissed him,
with directions to go home to his friends, and tell them the
great things the Lord had done for him, and how He had
had compassion on him. His preaching, however simple,
was a seed of future good in these regions.

Forced to return to Capernaum, Jesus had scarcely landed,
when a demand was made on His sympathy which He could
not resist. One of the rulers, or chief men of the Syna-
gogue, a local dignitary, named Jairus,' had an only daughter,
a rising girl of about twelve, at the point of death. After
all that had passed between Jesus and the Rabbis in the
town, it must have been a great effort for one in the posi-
tion, and with the inevitable prejudices of Jairus, to seek
His aid ; but distress humbles pride, and often quickens faith.
Pressing towards Him, and regardless of a crowd around, he
fell at His feet, as inferiors then did, and still do, in the East,
before those greatly above them, and besought Him to come
and lay His hand on his child, and restore her to health.
A heart that sympathized with all sorrow could not resist
such an appeal, and, forthwith. He set out, through the
throng that attended all His appearances, to the ruler's
house. Before arriving there, however, a message came
that the suflferer was dead, and that there was no need of
further trouble. They little knew who was on His way to
them. " Be not afraid," said He to the ruler, " only believe.'*
The crowd of relatives and friends that always throng the
chamber of death in Palestine, had already begun the pitiful
wails and cries of Eastern lamentations, and the dirge-flutes"
had already begun to add their sad burden to the tumult.
Jesus had likely been delayed before starting, and, as pre-
parations for burial commence as soon as breath leaves the
body, the corpse had likely been washed, and laid out in the
customary way for the grave, before He came.

The noise and confusion were not in keeping with the
M Matt.9.i8-s6. work Jcsus intended. " Why make ye this ado and weep?"*

Marks 23 -13 "^ •*•

Latositt-i^e; said He, as He entered, " The damsel is not dead, but
K^i^^i sleepeth." ^^^ He used the word, doubtless, just as He after-

2ndBeriM,M.

JEWISH PHYSICIANS. 167

wards did in the case of Lazarus, but they mocked at His oharxlil
pretended knowledge, which seemed to impute error, to them-
selves, for they knew that she was dead. He was the Prince
of Peace, and would have no such disturbing excitement,
and therefore c^iused the crowd to leave the chamber of death.
Only the father and the mother of the girl, and the three
disciples, Peter, James, and John, were allowed to see His
triumph over the King of Terrors. Taking the damsel by
the hand, and using words of the language of His people, —
Talitha cumi — Damsel, I say unto thee, arise ^ — the spirit
returned to the pale form, and she rose and walked. But
in Capernaum, at a time when His enemies were so keenly
afoot, cautious obscurity was needed, and He therefore
enjoined silence as to the miracle.

On the way a touching incident had happened. A woman,
troubled for many years with an internal ailment, after
" having suffered many things of many physicians, and having
spent her all," in the vain hope of cure, resolved to seek help
from Jesus. It is no wonder that she had given up the faculty
of the day, for their practice was in keeping with the scien-
tific ignorance of the times. Lightfoot quotes from the
Talmud the Jewish medical treatment of such a complaint.
It was as follows : " Take of the gum of Alexandria the
weight of a zuzee (a fractional silver coin); of alum the same;
of crocus the same. Let them be bruised together, and
given in wine to the woman that has an issue of blood. If
this does not benefit, take of Persiau onions three logs (pints) ;
boil them in wine and give her to drink, and say, ' Arise
from thy flux.' If this does not cure her, set her in a place
where two ways meet, and let her hold a cup of wine in her
right hand, and let some one come behind and frighten her,
and say, * Arise from thy flux.' But if that do no good,
take a handful of cummin (a kind of fennel), a handful of
crocus, and a handful of fenegreek (another kind of fennel).
Let these be boiled in wine, and give them her to drink,
and say, * Arise from thy flux.' " If these do no good, other
doses, over ten in number, are prescribed ; among them, this
— " Let them dig seven ditches, in which let them burn some
cuttings of vines, not yet four years old. Let her take in her

168 THE UFE OF CHRIST^

CHAP. xLii. hand a cup of wine, and let them lead her away from
this ditch, and make her sit down over that. And let
them remove her from that, and make her sit down over
another, sajring to her at each remove, — 'Arise from thy

"Hor.HeD.Ji. fluX.'"27y
413.

But these were only a few of the more harmless prescrip-
tions in vogue. The condition of medical science in the
East may be judged from its character at the centre of
civilization and progress in the West Pliny's Natural History
gives us some curious glimpses of this. Ashes of burnt
wolfs skull, stags' horns, the heads of mice, the eyes of crabs,
owls' brains, the livers of frogs, vipers' fat, grasshoppers, bats,
&c., supplied the alkalis which were prescribed. Physicians
were wont to order doses of the gall of wild swine, of horses'
foam, of woman's milk ; the laying a piece of serpent's skin
on an affected part, mixtures of the urine of cows that had not
been sucked, the fat of bears, the juice of boiled bucks'

» PBn. Hifit horns, and other similar abominations.^^ For colic, thev

' prescribed the dung of swine or hares, for dysentery powdered

horses' teeth, for affections of the bladder, the urine of wild

» piin. Hfat swine, or asses' kidneys, or plasters of mice-dung.^^ It was a
21* ■ ' ■ great assistance in child-birth if the mother, or any of her

*) piiiL Hist circle, ate wolfs flesh.*^ Cold in the head was cured by kissing

Nat. 28. 77 ^ o

« piin. HiBt a mule's nose.^^ Sore throat was removed by embrocations

of snails' slime, and the inhalation of the fumes of snails

«piin.Htat slowly burnt.*^ Quinsy was cured with the brain of the

Nat. 80 11

» pua HiBt marsh owl ; ^ diseases of the lungs, with mouse-flesh,^

Nat. 80 12 <-? ' /

«• PHii.Hi8t disorders of the stomach with boiled snails, of which, how-
ever, only an odd number must be taken ; weakness of the
bowels, with powdered bats; miscarriages were prevented
by carrying about with one a living amphisbsena, a small
snake which was believed to be able to go either backwards
or forwards ; frogs' eyes were useful for contusions, if the
eyes were taken out at the conjunction of the moon, and
kept in an egg-shell. Frogs boiled in vinegar were sovereign
for toothache ; for cough, the slime of frogs which had been
hung up by the feet; for rupture, sea hedgehogs — ^the
echinus— dissolved in asses' milk ; for diseases of the glands,
scorpions boiled in wine ; for ague or intermittent fever, the

THE SUFFEBEB HEALED. 169

stone from the head of sea-eels, but it must be taken out at chap.xul
the full moon.** « ran. nuit

N»t80.15;

The poor woman who now determined to seek help from f^ «• gj^l^
Jesus had enduried all the tortures of such medical treatment "* "'^
for twelve years, and, of course, was hurt rather than healed.
She could not, however, venture to speak to Jesus ; perhaps
womanly shame to tell her disease in public kept her back ;
perhaps reverence for one so mysteriously above other men.
Besides, she was unclean, and had to stand aloof from society.
Joining the crowd following Him to the house of Jairus,
she could only dare to touch the zizith," or tassel, that hung
on the comer of his outer garment, as on those of all other
Jews.*^ The touch at once healed her, but it did not pass •• Numb. is. sa.
unnoticed. To have let it pass, might have seemed to give Em Menech.
countenance to a superstitious fancy that His clothes had gJS^,^
virtue in themselves. Turning round, He at once asked who mSS^S^^?
touched Him. She could no longer hide her act^ and,
alarmed lest her boldness should be punished by the renewal
of the trouble she now felt to have been healed, fell down
before Him, and told Him all the truth. It was enough.
" Daughter," said He, " thy faith hath made thee whole ; go
in peace, and be whole of thy plague/

Scharer, 4^0.

170 THE UFE OF CHBIST.

CHAPTER XLIIL

DARK AND BRIGHT.

cHAP.xmL A MONG the crowd that had gathered round the house of
-^^ Jairus, the supernatural powers of Jesus found re-

* Matt.9.97-«4.newed exercise.^ No sooner had He reappeared than two
blind men followed Him to Peter's house, appealing to Him
as the long-expected Messiah — " Have mercy upon us, Son of
David." It was an invariable condition of His granting His
miraculous aid that those who sought it should come with
sincere and trustful hearts, for to such only could any
higher good be gained by mere outward relief. The poor
men eagerly assured Him that they believed He could do
what they asked, and with a touch of His hand their eyes were
opened. " According to your faith," said He, " be it unto
you." The prudent charge not to speak of their restored
sight, so necessary after all that had lately passed, was heard
only to be forgotten, for, in their joy, they could not refirain
from publishing it wherever they went. Another miracle
of these days is recorded — ^the casting out a devil from one
who was dumb, so that the sufferer, henceforth, spoke freely.
The multitudes were greatly moved by such repeated de-
monstrations of transcendent power, which seemed to surpass
all that had ever been seen in Israel, but this popularity
only the more embittered His enemies. Repeating their old
blasphemy, they could only mutter, " He casts out devils by

« Hor.Heb/ii. beiuff iu leaffue with their prince."* That He should thus
recognize classes whom they represented as accursed, and
from whom they withdrew themselves as unclean, seemed a
reflection on their teaching and conduct. The blind, the
leper, the poor, and the childless, were alike accounted
stricken of God, and " dead," by the hard Judaism of the

208—205.

POPULAR FEELING. 171

day,' and yet He associated freely with all who sought Him. chap. xun.
Either He or they must be vitally wrong. • ^T^oot, ul

It was now late in the year, and the Twelve had not yet
gone out on any independent mission. He had taken them
with Him on His circuits round Capernaum, to train them for
wider fields. They had seen Him scattering the first seed, and
caring for it in its growth, preserving what had been won ;
strengthening the weak, and calling the careless to repent-
ance. On a narrow theatre they had had a widely varied
experience. More lately they had had examples of unbelief in
the Gadarenes, of weak faith in themselves, and of strong in
the woman who had touched Jesus, and even in the two
blind men. Another lesson, however, was needed — that of
fierce opposition, which they were destined to meet so often
hereafter.

Jesus had never visited Nazareth since His leaving it, and
His heart, doubtless, yearned to proclaim the New King-
dom to the population among whom He had lived so long.
The visit of Mary, and of His sisters and brothers, to Caper-
naum, to take Him away with them, however mistaken, had,
doubtless, been prompted by the tenderest motives. Simple
country people, they had heard firom their holy Rabbis that
He whom they so loved had overstrained His mind and
body till His reason had failed, and that there was ground
to fear that the Evil One had secretly taken advantage of
His enthusiasm to work miracles by His hands. What could
it be, indeed, but serving the Prince of Darkness, to slight
the sacred traditions by acts like mixing with the common
people without bathing afterwards, or breaking the Sabbath
by healing on it, or by letting the disciples pluck com and
rub it in their hands on the holy day, or letting a leper come
near Him, or eating with unclean publicans and sinners?
He was a revolutionist : He was turning the world upside
down : He was questioning the wisdom and authority of
the Rabbis, and who but the devil or his emissary could do
that?

It was a grave matter, however, to revisit Nazareth. If
His nearest relatives had given way to such fears respecting
Him, what could He expect fi:om the multitude, who had

172 THE LIFB OF CHRIST.

cflAP.miL known Him only in His humble obscurity ? He must seem
to them, at the least, a dangerous disturber of the religion
of the land ; a fanatic who was stirring up confusion in
Israel. But, where duty called, He never knew fear. In
company with His disciples He set out from Capernaum,
taking the road along the hills by the Lake, to Magdala,
turning westward from it, through the valley of doves, by
Arbela, with its high cliffs and robber caves, and the Horns
of Hattin, past Tabor, south-westerly to Nazareth. It was
only a journey of seven hours, and could easily be made in

♦ Hade e. % a day. He stayed in Nazareth several days,* no doubt in His
mother's house.

The sword had already begun to pierce the Virgin's

•LnkoiM. heart.^ Tender, humble, patient, and loving, she had triab
we cannot realize. Knowing that her Son was the Messiah,
her fiiith was sorely perplexed by His past course, for her
ideas were those of her nation, and His were wholly the
opposite. Her intimate knowledge of the sacred oracles of
His people had shown itself in the Magnijicat : her simple
trust in God, her happy thankfulness of soul, her musing
thoughtfulness, her modest humility, her strength of mind
and energy of purpose, had all been seen in earlier days, and,
no doubt, as she grew older, the light of a higher world was
reflected with ever-increasing glory from her soul. But she
was, and must have been, in sore trouble at the position of
her Son. His first interview with her has been conceived
thus : * —

."Refreshment over, and thanks returned with covered
head by Jesus, we may fancy how Mary followed Him to
His own chamber. When, at last, she thus had Him alone,
she fell on His neck, but instead of kissing Him, as she had
done a thousand times, secretly, in spirit, she hid her face
on His shoulder, and a stream of tears fell from her eyes.
She wept without speaking, and would not let Him go.

"At last, Jesus said, * Mother, be calm, and sit down by me,
and tell me why you weep ? ' She did so, and began, — ^her
hand in His, and His eyes fixed on hers — * I rejoice that at
last I have you again, and grieve that we shall soon have
once more to part.' *Do you know, then,' asked Jesus,

J

INTBBVIEW WITH MARY. 173

* how soon or how late I shall leave this world ? ' * Oh, my ohap.xlhl
child,' replied Miriam, ' does not the deathly whiteness of

your face tell me that you are wearing yourself out ? and if
you do not wear yourself out, though I am a woman, shut
in by the four comers of my house, how can I help seeing
that the hatred of your enemies increases daily, and that
they have long sworn your death ? ' ' Granted,' broke in Jesus,

* but has not a great part of the people banded round me,
and does not this stand in the way of the plots against me?'

* Indeed,' repKed Miriam, ' the might of your preaching,
your independence towards those in power at Jerusalem, the
novelty of your whole appearance, and, above all, your
miracles, have won many to your side, but the favour of the
people is like a rain-torrent, which swells quickly, only to
pass away as soon.' *You are right, 0 blessed among
women,' answered Jesus; 'most of this people seek not
salvation from sin, but from quite other burdens, and when
the decisive moment comes, they will forsake me, faint-
heartedly and ungratefully. Your look into the future does
not deceive you, but even the enmity and evil of men serve
the counsels of God, which I came to fulfil. My way goes
downwards to deep darkness, from which my soul shrinks,
but I follow the will of my Father, whether the road be up
or down.' As He spoke. His coimtenance, which had been
clouded for a moment, was, as it were, transfigured, as the
divine in His natxire shone through the human ; and Miriam,
drinking in all these beams, thrilled with a more than mortal
I'oy. There was a long pause. Miriam was silent, but she
ii, a, always, ™pf £ praye. 'Fair,' «d ah; in the
thoughts of her soul, ' is the rising sun, fair the green vine,
fair the blue sea, but fairer than all is He. What an hour
IS this! My eyes have beheld the King in His beauty.'"
The picture is beautiful, but it ascribes feelings to Mary
which sprang only later.

It had been the instinctive practice of Jesus, from early
childhood, to attend all the synagogue services, and He was
still sufiered to do so, in spite of the opposition He had
excited.^ When Sabbath came, therefore, He went to mom- • ^^MeSS^.
ing worship, and, after the reading of the Thorah, stood up in g^*'™"i.

° ^ Kltto'8 Oynlo.,

U.S38.

174 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

oHAP.xmL silent offer to read the Haphtara of the day from the Pro-
phets. He was forthwith called to the reading-desk, when
the Sheliach Tsibbur, or Hazan, handed Him the rolL The
lesson for the day could not have been more appropriate, for
it contained the passage of Isaiah which spoke of the Messiah
— " The spirit of the Lord is upon me, because He anointed
me to preach the Gospel to the poor. He has sent me to
proclaim deliverance to the captives, and recovery of sight
to the blind : to set at liberty the oppressed : to proclaim
the acceptable year of the Lord."** Then, sitting down. He
began His Midrasch, or explanation, commenting on the
passage in language which astonished the hearers, and ap-
plying the predictions of the prophets to Himself.

But the honest wonder and delight at His words soon
gave way to less friendly feeling. Whispers soon ran
through the congregation respecting Him. How came
He by such wisdom ? He belonged to no school : claimed
no place in the succession of Rabbis: spoke on His own
authority, without ordination or sanction from the doctors.

' S2kt?' ^^ ^^* *^^^ *^^ carpenter, the son of Miriam and Joseph,^
the brother of James and Joses, and of Juda and Simon ? and
are not His sisters here, with us ? They could not realize One
with whom, and with whose circle, they had been on familiar
relations of citizenship, as a prophet. Perhaps His freedom
towards the traditions had offended the strict notions of
some of His brothers, and the petty jealousy of a country
village could not acknowledge a superior in one whom they
had long treated as an equal, or even an inferior. His
humble origin. His position as a carpenter, a trade He had
learned among them, the absence of anjrthing special in His
family, and the fact that even they did not acknowledge
His claims, were all remembered. Perhaps jealousy of
Capernaum mingled with other thoughts, for He had done
miracles there, and none in Nazareth. Moreover, if He did
not belong to the schools. He could not speak or act by
inspiration from above, for the Rabbis were the teachers
jesM tt. Hiiiei, appointed bv God.® He must do His miracles, as the

17. Hauaratb, X^Jr ^ '

kdS,??' Rabbis said, by the help of the devil. He could not, they

Wh^i, 114, began to think, have come by His knowledge and eloquence

lift.

REJECTED AT KAZARBTH. 175

by fair means, or in the usual way. He must have unholy ohap.xliil
aid.

This was enough to turn the Synagogue against Him,
and His own words intensified the revolution of feeling,
and brought it to a crisis. He frankly told them that He
knew they thought " that He should help Himself before
helping them, and remove the suspicion and disrespect they
growingly felt, by miracles like those of Capernaum, as the
only way to convince them of His claims ! But He would
not do in Nazareth what He had done there, for He well
knew that no prophet had any honour in His own country.
Had not Elijah confined his miraculous power to strangers,
and they heathen, and withdrawn it from Israel ? Their
hardness of heart enforced the same on Him, and if Israel,
as a whole, showed a like spirit, it also would see His mighty
works withdrawn, and shown among the heathen." They
could stand no more. The whole synagogue rose in com-
motion, and in wild uproar hustled Him towards the steep
wall of rock^ hard by, to throw Him from it, headlong. But
His time was not yet come. A spell cast on the fierce mob,
opened a way for Him, and He passed through them, and
left the town unhurt.^ » Luke4.i6-3o.

Mail 13

This disastrous result so far exceeded all previous 2i;^i-«
experience, that Jesus Himself marvelled at their unbelief. ^^ *• Mark 6.6.
It even fettered His action, for " He could do no mighty
work, save that He laid His hands upon a few sick and healed
theuL"^^ He exerted His miraculous power only towards" Mark a 6.
those in whom He found moral sympathy, however imper-
fect. The human will, mysteriously independent, needed to
meet His supernatural might and give it entrance, as if the
soul, opposed or indijfferent, were wayside soil, on which the
seeds of physical, as of moral blessing, fell without fruit.

But, though He left Nazareth never to return. He re-
mained in the neighbourhood for a time, preaching in the
villages of the great plain of Esdraelon, far and near. The
whole theatre of His activity, however, in this circuit, as in
previous ones, was limited beyond ordinary conception.
From north to south, between Chorazin, above Capernaum,
and Jezreel, in the great plain, was only a distance of ten

176 THE LIFB OP CHEIST.

oHAP.xuiL hours, and from east to west, from Chorazin to Cana, or
Nazareth, only six or -seven. His whole life was spent in a
space represented by one or two English counties, but
the seed sown on this speck of ground is yet to cover the
earth!

The apostles had now passed through a lengthened and
varied experience, and besides the constant instruction of
their Master's words and life, had learned from their own .
hearts how great their moral deficiencies still were. Theit
faint-heartedness, irresoluteness, and want of faith, were
evident, and they were thus brought to that modest self-
distrust which alone could fit them for the heavier duties
before them. They were now to rise from the position of
dependent and simple followers and scholars,^ and become
co-workers with Jesus, and that not only on the good soil
already sown, but, rather, on the hard trodden paths, the
stony ground, and that pre-occupied by thorps. In Gadara
and Nas^areth, they had learned to distinguish the opposite
aspects of unbelief; in the one, that of common natural
selfishness and harshness; in the other, that of proud perverted
fanaticism. After long wanderings and continuous trials, the
Twelve were now, in their Master's opinion, in a measure
prepared to work by themselves® in spreading the New
Kingdom. In spite of the opposition of the interested pro-
fessional classes, the enthusiasm of the people to hear the
new teaching was unabated. Multitudes followed Jesus'
wherever He appeared ; the synagogues still oflfered access
to the whole population each Sabbath, and in all the cities
and villages of Galilee, the " Gospel of the Eangdom " was
the great topic of conversation.

The times moreover, were exciting. The whole country
rang with the story of a massacre of GalilaBans by Pilate, at
the last Feast of Tabernacles — ^perhaps, at the same tumult
in which Joseph Barabbas was arrested as a ringleader, to be

" K^Vi^' afterwards freed instead of Jesus.^^ Pilate was always ready

to shed the blood of a people he hated, and the hot-blooded

Galilseans, ever ready to take afiront at the hated infidels,

gave him only too many excuses for violence. They had a

, standing grievance in the sacrifices offered daily for the

PILATE AND THE GALIL-SJANS. 177

Empire and the Emperor, ^^ and at the presence of a Roman ohap. xmi.
garrison and Roman pickets at the Temple, during the " ^^^^y^^-
feasts, to keep the peace, as Turkish soldiers do at this
day, during Easter, at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.
But Pilate had given special offence, at this time, by appro-
priating part of the treasures of the Temple, derived from
the Temple tax levied on all Jews over the world, and
amounting to vast sums in the aggregate — to defray the cost
of great conduits he had begun for the better supply of Jeru-
salem with water. Stirred up by the priests and Rabbis,
the people had besieged the government house when Pilate
came up to the city at the feast, and with loud continuous
cries had demanded that the works be given up. Seditious
words against himself, the representative of the Emperor,
had not been wanting. He had more than once been forced
to yield to such clamour, but this time determined to put it
down. Numbers of soldiers, in plain clothes, and armed
only with clubs, surrounded the vast mob, and used their
cudgels so remorselessly that many, both of the innocent and
guilty, were left dead on the spot. The'very precincts of the
Temple were invaded by the legionaries, and some pilgrims
who were so poor that they were slaying their own sacrifices,
were struck down while doing so, their blood mingling with
that of the beasts they were preparing for the priests/ and
thus polluting the House of God.^* It was an unprecedented " glJJJ^J^^J*-
outrage, and filled every breast in Judea and Galilee with ^-m*'
the wildest indignation, though such brawls were of frequent
occurrence. ^^ The excitement had even penetrated t^i^ " eJ^J^ ;*io*
palace at Tiberias, and kindled bitter ill-feeling in Antipas
towards Pilate, for the men slain were Galilaean subjects.

Another misfortune had happened in Jerusalem a short
time before. A tower, apparently on the top of Ophel,
near the Fountain of the Virgin opposite Siloam, had
fallen — ^perhaps one of the buildings connected with Pilate's
public-spirited steps to bring water to the Holy City — and
eighteen men had been buried beneath it ; in the opinion of
the people, as a judgment of God, for their having helped
the sacrilegious undertaking. »

The cry for a national rising to avenge the murdered

VOL. n. 61

178 THE LITK OF CHRIST.

oHAP.xLm. pilgrims doubtless rose on every side, but Jesus did not sane*
tion it for a moment. He saw the arm of God even in the
hated Romans, and in the fall of the tower, and, instead of
sympathizing with them for the one, and joining in a cry for
insurrection for the other, told His astonished hearers that
the same horrors were like to fall on the whole nation*
" Suppose ye," He asked, " that these Galilseans were sinners
above all the Galilaeans, because they have suffered such
things? I teU you nay, but, except ye repent, ye shall
aU perish in like manner. Or those eighteen, upon whom
the tower in Siloam fell and killed them, suppose ye that
they were sinners above aU the men that dwell in Jerusalem?
I tell you nay ; but except ye repent, ye will all perish in
the same manner." " Israel," He added, " is like a fig-tree,
planted by a man in his vineyard, which year after year bore
no fruit.^ Wearied by its barrenness, the householder was
determined to cut it down, and it was now spared at the
intercession of the vine-dresser, only for another year, to
give it a last respite. After that, if it still bore no fruit, he

M LQkei8.i-9. would cut it dowu, as merely cumbering the ground. ^^* That
year of merciful delay was the passing moment of His own
presence and work among them. The nation had given itself
up to a wild dream, that would end in its ruin. Led by the
priests and Rabbis, it trusted that God would appear on its
behalf, and by a political revolution overthrow the hated
foreign domination. The fruits of repentance and faith,
which God required, were still wanting. As the vine-dresser,
Jesus had done all possible to win them to a better frame.
He had warned, besought, counselled; but they were wedded
to their sins and their sinful pride. His peaceful kingdom
offered them the only escape from ruin, here and hereafter ;
but as a nation, they were more and more turning towards
the worldly schemes of their ecclesiastical leaders, and lent
a deaf ear to all proposals of spiritual self-reform. Con-
tinuance in this course would bring the fate of those they
now lamented on the whole race. If they rejected Him,
God would erelong destroy them as a people."

There was still another matter agitating aU minds, and
helping to keep up the volcanic excitement of the country.

. THB TWELVE SENT OUT. 179

John lay still a prisoner, in the black fortress of Machaerus, oHARxmi
almost within sight, and each day men wondered if Antipas
had yet dared to put him to death.

Under any circumstances, the crowds following Jesus
would have touched a heart so tender, but their wild despair
and religious enthusiasm made the sight of them doubly
affecting. Might they not be won to the peace and joy of
the glad tidings ? They seemed to Him, the Good Shepherd,
like a great flock nqpding many shepherds, but with none;
footsore with long travel, wandering they knew not whither,
with no one to lead them to the still waters and green pas-
tures. "The harvest" said He to His disciples, "is plenteous,
but the labourers are few; pray ye, therefore, the Lord of
the harvest, that He will send forth labourers into His har-
vest" There were multitudes to be won for the New King-
dom,— ^multitudes prepared to hear, for their spirits were
broken under personal and national sorrow. But the number
of right teachers was small.*^

He decided, therefore, to delay no longer sending forth the
Twelve. Calling them together, He told them His purpose,
and fitted them to carry it out. As a proof of their mission
from Him, He invested them with authority over spirits, and '
gave them power to heal diseases. They were to confine
themselves for the present to Jewish districts, avoiding
Samaritan towns, and not entering on the road to heathen
parts. Galilee itself was thus virtually their field of labour,
for heathenism had a footing in every place round it, and
within a few miles of them lay Gadara, Hippos, Pella,
Scythopolis, and even Sepphoris, with heathen worship, in
their midst. Judea and Jerusalem were not to be thought
of. The simple Galilaeans would be a better beginning for
the Apostles than the dark bigoted population of the south.
One day they would be free to visit Samaria,^^ as He Him- » Fuwer, su
self had already. Meanwhile they must not stir up Jewish ^^f lo 'i-
hatred by goipg to either Samaritans or heathens. More- SSo-wf'
over, their own Jewish prejudices unfitted them for a mission
to any but Jews, for, even after this, the first signs of hostility
made John wish to call down fire from heaven on a Samaritan
village, and they were not fit as yet to handle aright the

180 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

r

oDARXLiiL many questions such a journey would elicit. Besides, Israel
must have another year in which to bring forth fruit ; and

• IWIIL1L825. withal, it was their first independent journey.^®

Ihe burden of their preaching was to be the repetition of
that of John, and of Jesus Himself, when He began. " The
Kingdom of Heaven is at hand." Like John, they were
heralds, to prepare the way. "Heal the sick," said He,
" raise the dead, cleanse lepers, cast out demons," They had
received their miraculous gifts freely^ and must dispense
them as freely.^ Their equipment was to be of the simplest,
for superfluity diverted the mind from their great object, and
made an extra burden which would only hinder them on
their journeys. It became them, also, by their humble guise,
to disarm the suspicion of worldliness, and to show their im-
plicit trust in God. They were to take no money ; not even
any copper coin, in their girdles — the usual Eastern purse ;
nor a wallet for their food by the way ; nor two under gar-
ments, but were to wear only one ; nor were they to have
shoes, which looked like luxury, but only the sandals of the
common people, and they were to have only one staff.™
They were to go as the peasants of Palestine often do yet,
* trusting to hospitality for food and shelter ; offering in their
• simplicity a striking contrast to the flowing robes and
bright colours of the population at large. But they were not
to go alone. Each must have a companion, to accustom
them to brotherly communion, to give counsel and help to
each other in difiiculties, and to cheer each other ©n the way.
We. may fancy that Peter was sent with Andrew, James
with John, Philip with Bartholomew, the grave Thomas with
the practical Matthew, James the Small with Judas the Brave-
hearted, and Simon the Zealot with Judas Iscariot; the
brother with the brother ; the friend with the friend; the
zealous with the cold.

No mention is made of the synagogues in their instruc-
tions ; it may be, because the Apostles were not yet confi-
dent enough to come forward so publicly. It was to be a
house to house mission. While every traveller, according
to the custom of the country, greeted his acquaintances with
laborious formality, raising the hand from the heart to the

CHARGE TO THE TWELVE. 181

forehead, and then laying it in the right hand of the person oha^. xuil
met; even, according to circumstances, bowing thrice, or
as many as seven times ; they were forbidden to indulge in
any greetings by the way. Time was too precious, and
their mission too earnest for empty courtesies. On entering
a town or village, they were to make inquiries, to guard
against their seeking hospitality from the unworthy, but
having once become guests, they were to stay in the same
family till they left the place. They were to enter the
dwelling which heartily welcomed them, with a prayer for
its peace.^ Any house or city, however, that refused to
receive them, was to be treated openly ss heathen, by their
shaking off its dust from their feet as they left it.® But
woe to such as brought down this wrath ; it would be better
at the last day for Sodom and Gomorrah than for the Gali-
laean village in such a case I

To these directions for the way Jesus added warnings
that might have well filled with dismay men less devoted.
He predicted for them only persecution and universal hatred,
jails, public whipping, and even death, but cheered them
by the promise that their brave and faithful confession
of faith in Him, before governors and kings, would serve
His cause, and that endurance to the end would secure their
eternal salvation. They would be like helpless sheep in the
midst of treacherous wolves. ^^ Even their work would be » Trtot«iii,i58.
different from what they might expect. To day it was an ^•^IJ-
olive-branch ; to-morrow it would be a sword. Instead of
peace, it would divide households and communities, and turn
the closest relations into deadly enemies.^ They would need
to labour diligently, for before they had gone over all the
towns of Israel, He Himself would come to their aid as the
risen and glorified Messiah. They might expect slander,
for He Himself had been charged with being in league with
the devil, and they could not hope to fare better.^^ They » ofwwr, l
were, however, to be stout of heart, for the Providence that
watches the birds of the air would keep them safe.^i He had
nothing to ofler in this world, but if they confessed Him
here He would confess them, in the great day, before His
Father. If, on the other hand, they denied Him, He would.

182 THE LIFB OF CHRIST.

oHAP.xLm. on that day, deny them. He frankly demanded a loyalty
so supreme and undivided, that the most sacred claims of
blood were to be subordinated to it. Instead of receiving
honours, He told them that they might expect to be cruci-

a Godwyn. 209. fied, as Hc would be.^^ To save this life by denying Him
would be to lose the life to come ; but to lose it by fidelity

a schieieiv to Him, was to find life eternal.^ Amidst all this dark

iQAcher'i

Imf^ anticipation, they need not fear for their bodily wants,
for the greater the danger braved the greater would be the
" Nork, 60. reward in His kingdom to those who showed them favour,^^
and this would always secure them firiends.

Such an address, under such circumstances, was assuredly
never given before or since. To propose to found a king-
dom by the services of men, who, as their reward, would
meet only shame, torture, and death ; to claim from them
an absolute devotion, from mere personal reverence and
love, with no prospects of reward except those of another
world ; and to launch an enterprise thus supported only by
moral influences, in the face of the opposition of all the
authority of the day, simply to win men to righteousness
. by the display of pure, unselfish devotion to their good,
astounds us by the sublime grandeur of the conception.

No details are given of the mission, except that the Twelve

went on a lengthened circuit through the towns and villages

of Galilee, preaching the need of repentance, and the glad

•* 1UA6.M. tidings of the New Kingdom ;^^ and that their ministry was

^^ttJEv W9 pig

accompanied by miraculous works of mercy — ^the casting out
devils, and the anointing many sick with oil, and healing
them — ^which were themselves proofs of their higher success,
since such wonders were, doubtless, as in the case of their
Master, wrought only when there was a measure of faith.'

How long this mission lasted is uncertain. It may have
embraced weeks, or have extended over months, though, as
the first journey of the Twelve, alone, it is not likely to have
been very protracted. The success must have been unusual,
for, as they appeared, two by two, in the villages of Galilee,
the name of Jesus was on every tongue, and penetrated even
the gilded saloons of the hated Roman palace of Antipas, at
Tiberias. Jesus, Himself, had not been idle while His fol-

FEARS OF ANTIPA8. 183

lowers were away, for .their departure was the signal for a ohap.xliil
new, solitary journey, to preach and teach in the various
cities.^^ His name was thus spread abroad everywhere, and « ^f^-^^^
His claims and character discussed by all. He had been JS^^-w*"
nearly two years before the world, and had steadily risen in ^'^•••^"*
popular favour ; in spite of the hierarchical party. His
claims became the engrossing topic of the day. Hitherto
the most opposite views had perplexed all alike. More than
all men, Antipas felt his eyes irresistibly fixed on Him, for
his conscience was ill at ease. He had at last put John to
death, and, true to his superstitious and weak nature, con-
cluded that Jesus was no other than the murdered Baptist
risen from the dead, and clothed with the awful powers of
the invisible world. Since that dear head had fallen, the
weak and crafty worldling had hoped for peace and security,
but an awful echo of the voice he had silenced sounded
louder and more terrible, from the lips of Jesus, at his very
doors. He was now again in Tiberias, and the wide disper-
sion of a whole band of preachers of the same apparently
revolutionary Kingdom, in his immediate territory, seemed
a designed defiance of his violence at Machaerus, and its
counterstroke. It was certain that, when he gained courage
enough, he would try to repeat the murder of the first pro-
phet by that of the second. Suspicion and crafty foresight
were his characteristics. Jesus readily, however, learned all
that passed respecting Himself in the palace, for He had
followers in it, such as Johanna, the wife of Chouza, and
Menahem, the foster-brother of the tetrarch, and He was on
His guard.

While Antipas thus interpreted the rumours respecting
Jesus, others formed an opinion hardly more acute or
thoughtful, who took Him for a second Elias. John and
Elijah, in their whole spirit and work, were men devoted
to thn traditional and outward theocracy: men who
looked to the past. Jesus, on the other hand, had pro-
claimed, even in His consecration sermon on the mountain,
that He devoted His life to the founding a New Covenant.
Their opinion was nearer the truth who believed Him a
prophet, though distance threw a mysterious glory round

184 THE LITE OP CHRIST.

oHAP.xLiiL the prophets of the past, which they failed to realize of one
in their midst.

The news of the death of John seems to have reached
Jesus about the same time as the Apostles returned, and,
doubtless, seemed the prediction of His own fate. The prospect
of the cross had been before His mind from the first, for even at
the Jordan He had been announced as the Lamb of Grod.
The Sermon on the Mount had struck the key-note of self-
sacrifice, and he had once and again foretold, more or less
clearly, that He felt His path would be towards a violent
death. It was inevitable that one whom the interest, the
pride, and the reputation of the existing ecclesiastical
authorities combined to proscribe, must fall before their
hostility. Even the prophets, as a rule, had suffered violent
deaths, though their protest against the corruption of their
day involved no condemnation of the religious economy of
the nation. But He had committed Himself deliberately to
principles fatal to the theocracy ; for He had violated tra-
dition ; He had eaten with publicans, and He had denounced
the leaders of the people as hypocrites, blind, and wicked.
It was a life and death matter for the hierarchical party to
try to quench in His own blood the fire He had kindled.

The meeting with the Apostles was likely pre-arranged,
and Jesus returned to the neighbourhood of Capernaum, or,

»• jcbn e. 83. perhaps, of Tiberias, ^^ to effect it. He had been away for a
length of time, and His absence had evidently been deeply
felt, for multitudes at once gathered round Him again, as
soon as He re-appeared. Every village, far and near, poured
out its population to hear Him once more, and the throng
was increased by the countless passing bands of pilgrims to

» John & 4. the Feast at Jerusalem, for Passover was near at hand.^^ He
needed rest, and there was much to hear from the Twelve, but
it was impossible to have either the rest or the quiet inter-
course amidst such crowds. They had no leisure even to

« Mark 6.81. cat.^® It was, moreover, no longer safe for Him to be in

» Matt. 14. 18- the territories of Antipas.^^ Taking the Twelve with Him,

LSj».1oIa7: therefore, He crossed over to the tetrarchy of Philip, at the

head of the Lake, going by water, and landing at the Plain of

Batiha, under the shadow of Bethsaida, or Julias, where He

AMONG THE HILLS. 185

could hope for privacy, and secure a safe retreat in the quiet chap, xlql
glens, with their rich green slopes, passing gradually into
the marshes round the entrance of the Jordan into the

Lake. ^^ WLaodand

But it was vain to hope for escape. Some had seen Him
put off, and watched the direction of the boat till they knew
that He was making for Batiha, which was known as one of
His resorts. It was only six miles across the water from
Capernaum. The news soon spread, and crowds of those
most anxioua to see and hear Him set out by land for the
spot. The distance was farther than by the Lake, but they
ran, afoot, out of all the villages, and were waiting for Him
when He arrived. He had come for rest, but it was denied
Him now as at other times. Looking up as the boat touched
the shore, the slopes were alive with multitudes who showed
by their very presence that they felt themselves like sheep
without a shepherd- The evil times, the restless uneasiness
of all, the high religious excitement, the darkness of their
spiritual condition, and the equal misery of their national
prospects, combined to touch His soul with pity. They had
brought all the sick who could be carried, or who could
come, and as He passed through the crowds He healed them
by a word or touch. They had greater wants, however, than
bodily healing, and He could not let them go away un-
comforted. Ascending the hill-side, and gathering the vast
throng before Him, He " spake unto thein of the kingdom
of God, and taught them many things."

The day waa spent in this arduous labour, but the people
still lingered. They had been fed with the bread of truth,
and seemed indifferent, for the time, to anything besides.
Poor shepherdless sheep I it was His delight, as the Good
Shepherd, to lead them to rich pastures, and as they sat and
stood round Him, they forgot their bodily wants in the
beauty and power of His words.

It was now towards evening, and the company showed no
signs of dispersing.^^ Food could not be had in that lonely n umhm.
place, and the Twelve, afraid on this and perhaps other grounds,
anxiously urged Jesus to send them away, that they might
buy bread in the country round. To their astonishment,

186 THE LIFE OP CHBIST.

QBARTLOL however, He told them they must themselves supply them ;
it would never do to dismiss them hungry: they might
faint by the way. No more impossible request could have
been made. Between thirty and forty pounds' worth oi
bread, at the value of money in those days, would be needed

■ John 6.7. to give each even an insufficient share.^^* They could not
understand Him. Andrew, perhaps the provider for the
band, could only demonstrate their helplessness by saying
that the lad in attendance on them had only five loaves of
common barley bread — ^the food of the pooc — and two
small fishes, but what, he added, were they among so
many?

" Make the men sit down," said Jesus. It was in Nisan,
" the month of flowers," and the slopes were rich with the
soft green of the spring grass — that simplest and most
touching lesson of the care of God for all nature. The
Twelve presently divided the vast multitude into companies
of fifties and hundreds, reminding St. Peter, long after, from
the bright colours of their Eastern dresses, of the flower-beds
of a great garden.*

This done, like the great Father of the far-stretching house-
hold, Jesus took the bread and the fishes, and looking up to
Heaven, invoked the blessing of God on their use,* and

» Lake u. 16. giviug thauks for them,^ as was customary before all meals,
proceeded to hand portions to the disciples, who, in turn,

M 2 £jngB4.4s. gave them to the crowd. Elisha^^ had once fed a hundred
men with twenty loaves, and increased the oil in the widow's
cruse, and Elijah had made the bread and the oil of the
widow of Sarepta endure till the Lord sent rain on the
earth. But Christ, from three loaves and two small fishes,
not only satisfied the hunger of five thousand men, besides

» Matt. 14. 21. women and children,^ but did it so royally that the frag-
ments that remained were enough to fill twelve of the little
baskets in which Passover pilgrims and other Jews were wont
to carry their provisions for the way.^ More was left than
there had been at first 1

Jesus had thus supplied the wants of the needy, in a way
the full significance of which was as yet far beyond what
the disciples either understood or dreamed, for He had

THE MULTITUDB FED. 187

shown how there dwelt in Him a virtue sufficient to meet ohap. xlol
all higher wants, as well as the lower, so that none who be-
lieved in Him would ever have either hunger or thirst of soul
any longer, but would find in Him their all.^^ Had they •• joim e. s*.
known it, He had shown them that He Himself was the
Bread of Life, that came down from Heaven.^^ But they at » vw. «. «.
least knew how much they came short of a lofty faith, which,
in loving trust, despairs least when the need is greatest, and
in the strength of which all is doubled by joyful imparting,
while abundance remains instead of want.*^ •• Bwaw, t. m

The efiect on the multitude was in keeping with the ideas
of the time. Murmurs ran through the excited throng,
that Jesus must be the expected prophet — ^the Messiah.
Like Moses, He had fed Israel by a miracle, in the wilderness,
which the Rabbis said the Messiah would do. Surely He
would manifest Himself now, if they put Him at their
head? They had no higher idea of the Messianic King-
dom than the outward and political, and would hasten its
advent by forcing Him, if possible, to proclaim Himself
King, and thus open the longed-for war with the hated
Romans, in which God would appear on their behalf.

Material power, not moral preparation, was the national
conception of the path to the Messianic triumph. The
Rabbis and the people had decided for themselves the way
in which the salvation of Israel was to show itself, but be-
tween their views and those of Jesus there was a great gulf.
He would not use force, and they were bent on it. His
refusal to carry out their plan made opposition inevitable,
and it necessarily grew deeper each day as that refusal
became more clearly final.

While visions of national splendour dazzled the thoughts
of His countrymen, the ideal of greatness for Himself and
them lay with Jesus in humiliation. ELis path was in the
lowly valleys, not on the high places of the earth* He
aimed only to find the humble and needy, to seek the lost,
to serve rather than to be served. Hiding His glory in out-
ward lowliness, and never seeking honour from men. He
had, throughout, identified His will with that of God, ^vith
a self-restraint which showed the grandest force of will.

188 THE lilFB OF CHRIST.

cHAP^mn. The outward and material were indifferent to Him, and
utterly opposed to the divine purpose, if made an aim in
connection with His work. The reign of God in His own
soul was the perfect realization of the only kingdom He
sought to found in the souls of men at large, and it had
nothing in common with the vulgar parade of an earthly

» uDmum, 40. royalty.®^

As soon, therefore, as He perceived the design of the
crowd to force Him to act as their leader, and to instal Him
at Jerusalem at the head of a national insurrection, He
hurriedly left them, and went into the bosom of the hills,
beyond their reach. But that He had declined to be led by
them to the throne of David, in their way, was, in reality,
a step towards the Cross. The very proposal was a fore-
shadowing of His final rejection and violent death. The
solitude of the mountains was His fittest retreat, to strengthen
Himself against this new assault of the temptation He had
80 often repelled, and to gird up His soul for the trials that
lay in His path.

At the first signs of tumult among the people. He had sent
off the Twelve to cross the Lake again at once, to the Beth-
" M«fci4.M- saida near Capernaum,^ while He dismissed the multitudes.
iSktJtJJ: They liad waited for Him till night fell, but, at last, as He
did not come, they set off without Him. As they rowed, how-
ever, a sudden squall, blowing every way, struck down on
the Lake from the hills around, and caught their boat. It
was the last watch of the night — between three and six
o'clock in the wild morning, and the weary boatmen had
been toiling at their oars since the night before, but though
the whole distance to be rowed was only six miles, they had
only made two-thirds of the way. Jesus was not with them
to still the wind, and their own strength and skill had availed
little. But suddenly, close to the boat, they saw through
the gleam of the water and the broken light of the stars, a
human form walking on the sea. The sight would have
troubled men less sup*stitious than simple fishermen, and
made them cry out in their terror. But it was only momen-
tary, for close at hand, so that it was heard above the wind
and the waves, came the words, "Be of good cheer; it is I: be

PETBB ON THE WATERS. 189

not afraid," in a voice whicli they knew was that of Jesus, chap. xLm.
Always impulsive, the warm-hearted Peter could not wait
till the Deliverer came among them. " Would not his Master
suffer him to come to Him on the water ? " Then followed
that touching incident which has supplied a lesson for all
ages ; the safe footing on the waves while the apostle kept
His eyes fixed on his- Lord, and the instant sinking when His
faith gave way — an image of His whole nature, and of all
his future life. But the saying hand was near, and with the
gentle rebuke, " 0 thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou
doubt ? " they were in the boat, and as they entered, the wind
ceased, so that, presently,' with easy sweeps, their oars carried
them to the shore.

Like the mass of men, the Twelve were slow at reasoning
or applying broadly the plainest lesson. Had they realized
the greatness of the miracle they had seen the day before,
even the walking on the sea, and the calming of the wind,
would have seemed only what they might have expected.
But their minds were duU and unreflecting, and their amaze-
ment knew no bounds.y It is the characteristic of the
uneducated, that they think without continuity, and forth-
with relapse into stolid vacuity after the strongest excite-
ment. The miracle of the loaves had ceased to be a wonder,
for it was some hours old. But this new illustration of the
superhuman power of their Master was so transcendent,
that their wonder passed into worship. The impression,
like many before, might soon lose its force; but for the
moment they were so awed that, approaching Him, they
kneeled in lowliest reverence, and, through Peter, ever their
spokesman, paid Him homage in words then first heard from
human lips — " Of a truth Thou art the Son of God."

190 THE Lira OF CHRIST.

CHAPTER XLIV.

THE TURN OF THE DAT.

^^°^'"^- TTTHEN day broke on the scene of the miraculous meal of

» ▼ the evening before, a number who had slept in the
open air, through the warm spring night, still remained on
the spot. They had noticed that Jesus did not cross with
the Twelve, and fancied that He was still on their side of the
Lake. Meanwhile, a number of the boats which usually
carried over wood or other commodities, from these eastern
districts, had come from Tiberias ; blown roughly on their
way by the same wind that had been against the disciples.
In these, many, finding that Jesus had left the neighbour-
hood, took passage, and came to Capernaum, seeking for

i John 6. 28- Him.^ It was one of the days of synagogue worship-
Monday or Thursday — ^and they met Him on His way to

• John «. S9, the synagogue, to which they accordingly went with Him.^
M. Excitement was at its height. News of His arrival had

Mark t, 53— y

*«• spread far and near, and His way was hindered by crowds,

who had, as usual, brought their sick to the streets through
which He was passing, in hope of His healing them.

The incidents of the preceding day might well have raised
desires for the higgler spiritual food which even the Rabbis
taught them to expect from the Messiah. But they felt nothing
higher than vulgar wonder, and came after Jesus in hopes
of further advantages of the same kind, and, above all, that
they would still find in Him a second Judas the Gaulonite,
to lead them against the Romans. A few, doubtless, had
worthier thoughts, but, to the mass, the Messiah's kingdom
was as gross as Mahomet's paradise. They were to be
gathered together into the garden of Eden, to eat, and drink,
and satisfy themselves all their days, with houses of precious

A SIGN DEMANDED. 191

stones, beds of silk, and rivers flowing with wine, and spicy oharxliv.
oil for alL® It was that He miffht ffain all this for them • ngiitfoot,Hflt
that they had wished to set Him up ^ king. ^'^'^

Feeling how utterly He and they were at variance, Jesus
resolved to enter into no irrelevant conversation with them,
and waiving aside a question as to His crossing the Lake, at
once pointed out their misapprehension respecting Him, and
urged them not to set their hearts on the perishable food of
the body, but to seek earnestly for that food of the soul
which secures eternal life. So long as they did not seek
this beyond all things else, they missed their highest advan-
tage. As the Son of Man — ^the Messiah — accredited from
God the Father by His wondrous works,* He was appointed * John*. at.
to give them this heavenly food, and would do so if they
showed a sincere desire for it by becoming His disciples.^ » John e. as.

The Rabbis were accustomed to teach by metaphors, and
the people saw at once that He alluded to some religious
duty. What it was, however, they did not understand, but
fancied He referred to some special works appointed by
God.^* As Jews, they had been painfully keeping all the* Joi»n«-«-
Rabbinical precepts, in the belief that their doing so gave
them a claim above. Yet, if He had some additional in-
junctions, they were willing to add them to the rest, that
they might legally qualify themselves for a share in the New
Kingdom of God, as a right.^ But, instead of multiplied » Lntnard^ il
observances. He startled them by announcing that citizen-
ship in the New Theocracy required no more than their
believing in Him, as sent from the Father. In this lay all,
for the manifold " works of God " would spring naturally

from it.^ • Lttcke,lL7e.

Those of the crowd around who had not seen the miracle
of the day before had, doubtless, ere this, heard of it. It
had been an ama2dng proof of supernatural power, but their
craving for wonders demanded something still more astound-
ing, as a justification of His claim to be " the Sent of the
Father." A voice,^ perhaps that of some open opponent— for • S,?2So5
the Rabbis had taken care to be present— therefore broke in, SJoSi?^
apparently half mocking, with the question, " What * sign ' iTfi'S^here
He had to show, that they might see it, and believe Him ?

192 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

oHAP.xLiY. Moses proved his authority by stupendous * signs.' What
sign worthy the name do you do, to show your right to intro-
duce new laws, in addition to his, or in their room? Our
fathers ate the manna in the wilderness, as it is written, * He

» Exod.16.4. gave them bread from heaven to eat.'^^ What voucher as
great as this do you offer ? "

The miracle of the manna had become a subject of the
proudest remembrances and fondest legends of the nation.
"God," says the Talmud, "made manna to descend for
them, in which were all manner of tastes. Every Israelite
found in it what best pleased him. The young tasted bread,

u Ligbtfbot, the old honey, and the children oil."^^ It had even become a
804.' fixed beUef that the Messiah, when He came, would sig-

nalize His advent by a repetition of this stupendous miracle.
" As the first Saviour — ^the deliverer from Egyptian bond-
age," said the Rabbis, " caused manna to fall for Israel from
heaven, so the second Saviour — the Messiah — will also cause

tt Pfc 72. 16. manna to descend for them once more, for it is written,^

»Nork,i74. * Thcrc wiU bc abundance of corn in the land. '"^^ Moses
had gradually been half deified. It was taught that God

" 25^*- counted him of as much value as all IsraeL^* Most believed
that he was five grades in knowledge above all creatures, even
angels. The lower part of his body was human ; the upper
divine. On his entrance to paradise, God left the upper
heavens and came to him, and the angels also came and
ministered to him, and sang hymns before him.. Even the
sun, the moon, and the stars came, and craved liberty from
him to shine on the world, which they could not have done
had he refused.

It was thus only an expression of the public feeling of the
day when Jesus was asked to repeat the descent of manna —
the greatest of the miracles of Moses. It is in human nature,
but above all, in Eastern human nature, to associate high
office and dignity with display and outward circumstance, and
what must hence have been the popular expectations of exter-
nal grandeur and majesty in the Messiah, when they saw a
demigod in Moses, whom He was to resemble? No demand
for overpowering "signs" of the divine approval of a claim to
be the Messiah could, in this point of view, be too great.

THE BBEAD OF HEAVEN. * 193

from one whose outward appearance, and whole life, in other ohap.sliv.
respects, so entirely contradicted the general Messianic antici-
pations.

But Jesus, at all times resolute in withholding miraculous
action for any personal end, had no thought of satisfying
their craving for wonders. " Moses indeed," said He, " gave
you manna, but it was not the true Bread of Heaven."
He wished to draw them from the merely outward miracle to
that far higher wonder, even then enacting before their eyes,
the free offer of the true Bread of Heaven, ^'^ in the offer of" Lttcke,u.76.
Himself as their Saviour. The manna, He implied, could
only by a figure be called bread of Heaven, for it was
material and perishable, and the heaven from which it fell
was only the visible sky, not that in which God dwells.
Moses gave what was called by a figure, " Bread of Heaven,"
but the trw Bread of Heaven only His Father could give,
and He was giving it now. That only can be the true Bread
of God, which comes ^ down from the highest heaven, — He
might have said, from the pure heaven of His own soul, —
and gives life to the world ; for with Jesus, those who had
not this bread were spiritually dead.^^ >• Ymmw, 89,

" Master," cried many voices, " give us this bread hence-
forth, for life." Like Ponce de Leon, with the spring of
Unfading Youth in Florida, ^^ they thought that the new gift " Bancroft**
would literally make them immortal, and eagerly clamoured *• ^
to have a boon so far in advance of the mere barley loaves
of the day before.

" I am the Bread of Life," replied Jesus ; in a moment
scattering to the winds their visions of material plenty and
endless natural life. Then, explaining Himself, He added,
'* He that comes to me shall never hunger, and he that be-
lieves on me shall never thirst. But, as I said a moment
ago,^® you have not only heard of me, but have also seen »• venea*.
me, and been eye-witnesses of my deeds as the Messiah, and
yet you do not believe. All whom the Father gives me will
come to me. You may resist my invitations or yield, ^^ but » John «. 40,
he who resists is not given me by my Father. Believe me. Matt as. 37.
no hungering and thirsting soul that comes to me will I cast
out of my Kingdom when it is erected. How could I,

VOL. n. 52.

194 THE MFB OP CHRIST.

CHAP. xLiv. indeed, when I have come down from heaven, not to act on
my own human will, but only to carry out the will of my
Father in Heaven, which is, in this matter, — ^that, of all — ^not
Jews alone, but all, without exception — ^whom He has given
me I should lose none, but should raise them up in the last
day— or, in other words, should give them eternal life."

» VWM89. These words, spoken in the synagogue at Capernaum,^^

created a great sensation. The congregation, comprising
some Rabbis and other enemies, had, from time to time, in
Jewish fashion, freely expressed their feelings, and had
taken such offence at His claim to be the Bread that came
down from heaven, that their whispers and murmurs now
ran through the whole building. " How can He say He
has come down from heaven? We know His father and
mother. He is from Nazareth, and would have us believe
He is from God above. He is mad. He has a devil. When

« John 7. 27. the Messiah comes, no one will know whence He is."^^

TJ-y. IJ ft

seevoKLpp. " Dq not munuur among yourselves," said Jesus.
"Natural sense is worth nothing in this matter — ^it will
never help you to imderstand how I am the True Bread
come down from heaven. If you wish to know how I can
say so, you must submit yourself to the teaching and in-
fluence of God : must hear and learn what God says, for it

» faaiaii M. V tells us iu the prophets — ' They shall be all taught of God.' ^^
Only those thus taught come to me or believe in me. The
yielding your souls to God and your rising thus to com-
munion with Him by spiritual oneness, can alone lead to the
faith that recognizes the truth respecting me."

*^ Perhaps you think," He continued, to paraphrase His
words, " that to hear and learn of God, you must yourselves
see Him, or commune directly with Him? If so, you
greatly err. To see God immediately, face to face, is given
to no mortal man, but only to Him who is from God. No
one but His only-begotten Son, who was in heaven and has
come down thence, has seen, and now sees, the Father, and
reveals Him to man. Him, therefore, the Son — that is. Me,
must you hear ; from Me must you learn j if you would hear

a Joimy7^ and learn from God.^^ Amen, amen, I say to you. He that
believes on me as — thus — ^the ' Word ' and Revealer of the

THE LAMB OP GOD. 195

Father, has everlastiBg life. I, myself, am, as such, that obap.xltv.

Bread of Life of which I have spoken. Your forefathers

ate the manna which Moses gave in the wilderness, and

died ; but it is the grand virtue of the true Bread of Heaven,

that if a man eat of it — ^that is, if he receive my words into

his soul, he shall not die, but shall have everlasting life."

" I am not only the Life-giving Bread," He continued,
" but the Living Bread, and as all that is living communicates
life, so whoever eats this only true Bread of Heaven — ^who-
ever believes in me — shall live for ever. As the Living
Bread I will give myself — my flesh — ^that is, my life — for
the life of the world."

He pointed thus — ^m language which His hearers could
have readily understood, had their minds not been blinded
by opposite preconceptions — ^to His death, as the " Lamb of
God," for mankind. This, He implied, must, above all, be
received, to secure everlasting life, for so, only, could His
claims and authority be felt. He would give His life for the
spiritual life of men, as bread is given for their bodily life :
the one to be taken by the soul, the other by the body.

The idea of eating, as a metaphor for receiving spiritual
benefit, was familiar to Christ's hearers, and was as readily
understood as qur expressions of " devouring a book," or
" drinking in" instruction. In Isaiah iii. 1, the words *^the
whole stay of bread," were explained by the Rabbis as re-
ferring to their own teaching,^* and they laid it doMrn as a m ohi«ig»» foi
rule, that wherever, in Ecclesiastes, allusion was made to
food or drink, it meant study of the Law, and the practice of
good works.?^ It was a saying among them — " In the time « mdn^
of the Messiah the Israelites will be fed by Him."^® Nothing «. o*-
was more common in the schools and synagogues than the foi. m, c 2/
phrases of eating and drinking, in a metaphorical sense.
*' Messiah is not likely to come to Israel," said Hillel, "for
they have already eaten Him " — ^that is, greedily received His
words^^ — " in the days of Hezekian." A current conven- « ughtfoot.
tionalism in the synagogues was that the juet would " eat the m*
Shekinah." It was peculiar to the Jews to be taught in
such metaphorical language. Their Rabbis never spoke in
plain words, and it is expressly said that Jesus submitted to

196 THE LIFE OF CHBIST.

OTARxuv. the popular taste, for " without a parable spake He not unto

» Hark «. 84. them."^®

But nothing blinds the mind so much as preconceived
ideas, and dreams of national glory had so inseparably
associated themselves with their conception of the Messiah,
that a figure, which in other cases would have created no
difficulty, led to violent discussion, some contending for the
literal sense, which they held as a self-contradiction, others
favouring a metaphorical explanation.^

Instead, however, of answering the eager questions which
now rose, how this could be, Jesus, resolved to break finally
with the gross outward ideas of His kingdom which pre-
vailed, only proceeded to carry out the paradox farther, by
adding that they must not only eat His flesh, but drink His
blood — ^thus intimating still more clearly His violent death
and its mysterious virtue for the salvation of mankind, as
He was hereafter to do still more vividly by the abiding
symbols of the Last Supper. On no other condition than
by making the lessons and merits of that death their own
could they have eternal life, or be raised up at the last day.
Without this they were spiritually dead. His flesh and
blood were true spiritual food ; the heavenly bread of the
soul ; the nourishment of the divine life within. The hearty
recognition and reception of this great truth would create an
abiding and intimate communion between Him and those
who thus, as it were, fed on Him as their inner life. Living •
in Him, He would live and reign in them. Nay, as a further
result of this intimate spiritual union — ^this oneness of will
and heart with Him, divine life would go forth from Him to
those in whom He found it, as it came forth to Himself from
the Father. Then, with a repetition of the original figure
of His being the bread that came down from heaven; not
the manna, of which those who ate were long since dead; but
the bread, to eat which gave eternal life. He closed His
address.

The Baptist had spoken of the fan in the hand of his great
successor : this discourse was the realization of the figure.
Those who had hoped to find a popular political leader in Him
saw their dreams melt away : those who had no true sympathy

THE OFFENCE OF THE CROSS. 197

for His life and words had an excuse for leaving Him* None ohap. xuv.
who were not bound to Him by sincere loyalty and devotion
had any longer a motive for following Him. Fierce pa-
triotism burning for insurrection, mean self-interest seeking
worldly advantage, and vulgar curiosity craving excitement,
were equally disappointed. It was the first vivid instance
of " the offence of the Cross " — ^henceforth to become the
special stumbling-block of the nation.^* The wishes and • looj- 1- »•
hopes of the crowds who had called themselves disciples had
proved self-deceptions. They expected from the Messiah
quite other favours than the identity of spiritual nature
symbolized by the eating His flesh and drinking His blood.
The bloody death implied in the metaphor was in direct
contradiction to all their ideas. A lowly and suffering
Messiah thus unmistakably set before them was revolting to
their national pride and gross material tastes. " We have
heard out of the Law," said some, a little later, "that the
Christ abideth for ever, and how sayest thou the Son of man
must be ^lifted up,'^^ — ^that is, crucified?" "That be far » joim u. 84.
from Thee, Lord : this shall not be unto Thee," said even
Peter almost at the last, when he heard from his Master's
lips of the Cross, so near at hand,^^ The Messiah of popular » uttk i6.m
conception would use force to establish His kingdom, but
Jesus, while claiming the Messiahship, spoke only of self-
sacrifice. Outward glory and material wealth were the national
dream : He spoke only of inward purity. If He would not
head them with Almighty power, to get Judea for the Jews,
they would not have Him. Their idea of the kingdom of
God was the exact opposite of His.

The discourse had been interrupted in its progress, and,
now, at its close, the murmuring and whispering grew more
earnest than ever. " This is a hard saying," was the general
feeling, " who can bear it ?" " No one could submit to such
self-denial," said one " I don't understand it," said another.
" Blasphemy," said a third " He claims to be God." " He
is not the Messiah for me," said a fourth.^ Jesus, now on
His way out of the synagogue, noticed all. " Does what I
have said offend you?" said He. "If, now, while I am with
you, you think my words hard, and stumble at them« what

198 THE Ura OF CHRIST.

CHAPXL17. ^U you SEj wheii I tell you that when I have returned to
heaven, whence I came, you will still have to eat my flesh
and drink my blood, to become, through me, partakers of
eternal life ? Do you not see from this that I speak in meta-
phor, and that you are not to take my words literally, but
in their spirit and inner meaning ? It b not my flesh you
are to eat, but my words, which you have just heard.
These you must receive into your hearts, and they will
quicken you into spiritual life, for they are spirit and life.
If you do not believe on me as the true Messiah, by His
death the life of the world — but expect only a national
salvation from my visible bodily presence — as one who will
live on earth for ever, and reign in deathless splendour —
you must find what I have said an offence. But he who
desires from me, as the Messiah, only the hidden life of the
soul, its renewal in the holy image of God, and His reign
within, will find no off^ence in any of my words. The truths
I have told you are spirit and life, and quicken the soul
that receives them into a heavenly life as bread quickens the
. body. My mere outward natural life, as such, profits you
nothing. If my words have been hard to any, it is because
they do not believe in me, for only the believing heart can
realize their truth."

In the Sermon on the Mount, which inaugurated His
public ministry, Jesus had contrasted the theocratic forms of
pupilage and the letter, with the Law of the New Kingdom;
a law of the spirit and liberty. In this address to the people
He contrasted with the theocratic life in its mere outward-
ness and its slavery to forms, the new life from God which
He made known — a life kindled and maintained by the
Spirit from above — ^the gift of the Heavenly Father. The
dead letter ; the outward material flesh ; He told them, pro-
fited nothing : the form, the rite, the dogma, the institution,
however venerable in itself — even His own flesh, as the
symbol of mere material life, had no magic virtue. Only
the inward essence, the truth embodied, the living principle,
the quickening spirit received into the heart, availed with
God, or sustained the heavenly life in the soul. The life-
giving Spirit as it flows from the infinite fulness of God, and

BBACTIOK IN POPULAB FEBLINa 199

reproduces itself in the heart, was the true manna of humanity chap, xuv.
in the wilderness of the world.

The false enthusiasm which had hitherto gathered the
masses round Jesus was henceforth at an end, now that their
worldly hopes of Him as the Messiah were exploded. His dis-
course had finally undeceived them. He was founding a myste-
rious spiritual kingdom : they only cared for a kingdom of this
world. It became for the first time clear that no worldly
rewards or honours were to be had by following Him, but
only spiritual gifts and benefits, for which most of them cared
nothing. They wanted to see wonders, to eat bread from
heaven that would protect them from dying, and to get
places and wealth in the new kingdom when finally set up.
They had looked on Jesus as a miracle- worker rather than a
spiritual Saviour, and wished to be healed rather by touch-
ing His garments than by sympathy and communion with
His Spirit. But He had come to save sinners, not to work
miracles, even of healing : to be a physician of souls, not of
bodies. He had disenchanted the insincere and selfish who
had hitherto flocked after Him, and they forthwith showed
their altered feelings. From the moment* of this address,
the crowds that had thronged Him began to disappear,
returning to their homes, doubtless in angry disappoint-
ment. It seemed as if He would be entirely forsaken.
Could it be that even the Twelve would leave Him ? He
knew them too thoroughly to look for any answer but an
earnest assurance of their loyalty. Yet it was well to put
them to the test, and strengthen their faith by trying it "Do
you, also, wish to leave me?" asked He. "To whom, Lord,
shall we go away?" answered Peter, ever the first to speak, —
"Thou hast words of eternal life, and we* have believed and
known that Thou art the Holy One of God." But even in
the Twelve, as Jesus knew, the fan had chaff to separate
from the wheat. " Did not I myself choose you Twelve to be
specially my own, and one (even) of you is a devil ? Beware
of self-confidence. If you think you stand, take heed lest
you fall ! " Eleven, as we know, refused to leave Him. Did
the first thought of treachery rise in the mind of Judas
with the blasting of worldly hopes entertained, almost

200 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

CHAP. xLTv. unconsciously, till now? EKs Master had never before
spoken so plainly. Henceforth, to follow Him clearly meant
to give up all worldly aims or prospects, and voluntarily
choose a life, and it might be a death, of self-denial and self-
sacrifice for the nation and the world — or act the hypocrite
with a faint hope of ulterior advantage.

Jesus had not gone to the Passover, for it would have been

« John 7. 1. unsafe to have shown Himself in Jerusalem.®^ His disciples,
vtSk 7." 1-23'. however, doubtless went up, for no Jew neglected to do so

» preaaei^Lebeii if possiblc.^^ Hc had uow bccn pubUcly teaching for some
months over a year in Gralilee, and had not revisited Judea,

••John 5. L except for a few days at the Passover*^ before, since

* John 8. n. His first discouraging circuit^^ in the south. . The north had
received Him with a warmth and frankness that had won
His heart by the contrast with the cold self-righteous bigotry
of Judea. It had given him the Twelve, and the ready
audience he had found had enabled Him to make a small
but healthy beginning of the New Kingdom. The impulsive,
excitable Galilaeans seemed for a time, indeed, likely, almost
as a whole, to leave the Rabbis for His new teaching. But
the movement had been checked, and the popular favour
chilled by the restless efforts of the party threatened. Weak
in the north, they had sent word to Jerusalem of the success
of the Teacher fi*om Nazareth, whom the orthodoxy of Judea
had refused to follow. The Rabbis of the capital — known
variously as " the Pharisees," " Scribes," or Sophenm, — "law-
yers,"— "masters of the traditions" — "Hakamin or wise men,"
— " doctors," — " expounders of the Law," — ^and " disputers"
of the Gospels and the Epistles ; and the official ecclesiastical
world at large — ^the priests, canonists, and preachers of
Judaism, had their stronghold in the Temple courts, and
rivalled the bigotry of the more modem Mollahs and Softas
of Mecca and Medina. At the first hint of danger, a depu-
tation had been sent to Capernaum, but they had failed to
carry the people with them in their attempts to fix charges
on the new Teacher. He had defended Himself so dex-
terously against their allegations of Sabbath-breaking and
blasphemy, that ior the time they retired discomfited.
Fresh news from the north, however, had again roused them.

rRBSH OPPOSITION. 201

More Rabbis appeared, sent by the authorities in Jerusalem, o^AP.xLIv.
to see if the rash Innovator could not be crushed, and their
presence speedily led to a further conflict

In the training of the Twelve for their future work it was
necessary, above all things, to create and foster the concep-
tion of moral freedom ; for the central point in the contrast
between the New Kingdom and the old Theocracy was its
liberty, as opposed to the bondage to the letter that had pre-
vailed. The deep and pure religiousness Christ demanded
could only flourish where the conscience was quickened, and
made responsible by a sense of perfect spiritual freedom.
He had already announced this great principle in the Sermon
on the Mount. The Twelve had been disciplined in it
by their mission journeys, but new illustrations showed,
day by day, how hard it was for them to emancipate them- .
selves from hereditary prejudices, and from Rabbinical
authority.

The very foundation of the new Society was in itself a break-
mg away from the established theocracy, and it necessarily
led to continually more decisive acts of mdependence and
separation. The Jewish theologians of the Pharisaic party,
with their pedantic devotion to precedent and form, and
their claim to direct the conscience of the people, had to a
great extent produced a mere outward religionism which
had weakened the moral sense of the nation, and with-
ered up all aspirations for spiritual manhood and liberty of
thought. They were very popular as the reverend and zealous
defenders of the holy Law handed down from the Fathers,
abnost from the first. They had recognized in Jesus, stiU
more than in His hated and feared predecessor, the Baptist,
a deadly foe, and the success of the new teaching in Galilee
imperilled their influence if it remained unchecked. With
keen foresight they had sought to anticipate the danger,
but hitherto had failed so ignominiously, that they had for
some time past refrained from open attack, contenting them-
selves with a secret hostility of dark hints, suspicions, and
blasphemies, to poison the minds of the people. Till now,
however, Jesus had made no direct attack on them, but,
while watched and assailed, had kept strictly on the defensive-

202 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

cflAP. xLiv. Henceforth, He took a different course. To expose their
innuendoes and calumnies was no longer enough. He felt
constrained, for the future, to show that not He but His
accusers were really obnoxious to the charges made against
Him so recklessly ; that not He but they were leading the
people from the right way, and acting under unholy influence,
and that their zeal for God was blind, not His.

A new attack by them led to this change. Reports of the
popular readiness to accept Him as Messianic King, and of
His resolute refusal to head such a political movement, which
alone could meet their own wishes, had doubtless reached
Jerusalem, and this, coupled with rumours of His innovations
and independence as a religious reformer, had thoroughly
alarmed the authorities at Jerusalem. Discarding invec-
tive, craft, or indirect approach, their deputies now came, no
longer to the disciples, but to Himself, with specific com-
plaints, which the freedom of Eastern manners, permitting
free access to private life, had enabled them to establish.
The disciples had already given offence by plucking and
rubbing ears of barley on the Sabbath, and thus, as it was held,
reaping and threshing on the sacred day; but a still graver
scandal in Pharisaic eyes had been detected in their sitting
down to eat without ceremonially washing their hands. The
Law of Moses required purifications in certain cases, but the
Rabbis had perverted the spirit of Leviticus in this, as in
other things, for they taught that food and drink could
not be taken with a good conscience when there was the
possibility of ceremonial defilement. If every conceivable
precaution had not been taken, the person or the vessel used
might have contracted impurity, which would thus be con-
veyed to the food, and through the food to the body, and by
it to the souL Hence it had been long a custom, and
latterly a strict law, that before every meal not only the
hands but even the dishes, couches, and tables should be
scrupulously washed.

The legal washing of the hands before eating was especially
sacred to the Rabbinist; not to do so was a crime as great as to
eat the flesh of swine. "He who neglects hand- washing," says

*• ^S^'i^oo's. tliG^<^ot Sohar,^® "deserves to be punished here and hereafter."

Deut.f!l07.a!

HAND-WASHINQ. 203

" He is to be destroyed out of the world, for in hand-wash- oha^xliv.
ing is contained the secret of the ten commandments." " He
is guilty of death." "Three sins bring poverty after them,"
says the Mischna,^^ u^^ ^^ gjjgj^^ hand-washing is one." » Bd>taiii.««.i.
"He who eats bread without hand- washing," says Rabbi
Jose, " is as if he went in to a harlot." The later Schulchan
Aruch, enumerates twenty-six rules for this rite in the
morning alone. " It is better to go four miles to water than
to incur guilt by neglecting hand-washing," says the Tal-
mud.*^ "He who does not wash his hands after eating," »crii«,f.M. a.
it says, " is as bad as a murderer." ®^ The devil Schibta sits on » Ttochom*.
unwashed hands and on the bread.*^ It was a special mark • Jom*. 1 77. 2
of the Pharisees that "they ate their daily bread with due
purification," and to neglect doing so was to be despised as
unclean.

Rabbinism was now in its highest glory, for the great
teachers Hillel and Schammai, who were hardly a generation
dead, had developed it to the uttermost. They had disputed
so fiercely, indeed, on many trifling details, that it was often
said that Elias himself, when he came, would hardly be able
to decide between them. But they agreed respecting hand-
washing, so that the Talmud maintains that "any one living
in the land of Israel, eating his daily food in purification,
speaking the Hebrew of the day, and morning and evening
praying duly with the phylacteries, is certain that he will eat
bread in the kingdom of God." ^^ u sabbath.

It was laid down that the hands were first to be washed '*****
clean. The tips of the ten fingers were then joined and lifted
up so that the water ran down to the elbows, then turned
down so that it might run off to the ground. Fresh water
was poured on them as they were lifted up, and twice again
as they hung down. The washing itself was to be done by
rubbing the fist of one hand in the hollow of the other.^ « oodwyn, S9.
When the hands were washed before eating they must be M3Si,Yii.a.
held upwards ; when after it, downwards, but so that the
water should not run beyond the knuckles.^^ The vessel « sepp. it. 97.
used must be held first in the right, then in the left hand ;
the water was to be poured first on the right, then on the
left hand, and at every third time the words repeated

204 THB LIFB OF CHBIST.

coABjojv. « Blessed art Thou who hast given us the command to wash
the hands." It was keenly disputed whether the cup of
blessing or the hand- washing should come first; whether
the towel used should be laid on the table or on the couch ;
and whether the table was to be cleared before the final

** sepp, It. 97. washiug OF after it." ^

This anxious trifling over the infinitely little was, how-
ever, only part of a system. If a Pharisee proposed to eat
common food, it was enough that the hands were washed by
water poured on them. Before eating Terumah — the holy
tithes and the shew-bread — ^they must be dipped completely
in the water, and before the portions of the holy offerings
could be tasted, a bath must be taken. Hand-washing
before prayer, or touching anything in the morning, was
as rigidly observed, for evil spirits might have defiled the
hands in the night. To touch the mouth, nose, ear, eyes, or
the one hand with the other, before the rite, was to incur
the risk of disease in the part touched. The occasions that
demanded the observance were countless : it must be done

« Hflnoc even after cutting the nails, or killinff a flea.^ The more

Beinigaigen, o 7 o

xfl. «». water used, the more piety. " He who uses abundant water
for hand-washing," says R Chasda, " will have abundant
riches." If one had not been out it was enough to pour
water on the hands ; but one coming in from without
needed to plunge his hands into the water, for he knew not
what uncleanness might have been near him while in the
streets, and this plunging could not be done except in a spot
w ughtfoot, where there were not less than sixty fi^allons of water.*^ ^

Hor.HeklL . .

*^** The same scrupulous, superstitious minuteness extended

to possible defilements of all the household details of daily
life. Dishes, hollow or flat, of whatever material, knives,
tables, and couches, were constantly subjected to purifica-
tions, lest they should have contracted any Levitical defile-
ment by being used by some one unclean.

This ritual exaggeration was, apparently, a result of
the jealousy between the democratic Pharisees and the
lordly Sadducees. The latter attached supreme impor-
tance to the ceremonial sanctity of the officiating priests,
to exalt themselves as the clerical aristocracy. The Phari-

THE TRADITIONS. 205

sees, to humble them, laid the stress, as far as possible, on ohap.xuv.
the vessels used, and the exactness of the act. In keeping
with their endless washings in private, they demanded that
all the vessels of the Temple itself should be purified after
each feast, lest some unclean person might have defiled
them — ^a refinement which drew down on a Pharisee who
was carrying out even the golden candlestick itself to wash
it, after a feast, the mocking gibe from a Sadducee, that he
expected before long the Pharisees would give the sun a

Washinff.^^ « D«raBbonis,

183— IM.

The authority for this endless, mechanical religionism
was the commands or " traditions " of the Fathers, handed
down from the days of the Great Synagogue, but ascribed
with pious exaggeration to the Almighty, who, it was said,
had delivered them orally to Moses on Mount Sinai. Inter-
pretations, expositions, and discussions of all kinds were
based, not only on every separate word, or on every letter,
but even on every comma and semicolon, to create new laws
and observances, and where these were not enough, oral
traditions, said to have been delivered by God to Moses on
Sinai, were invented to justify new refinements. These
" traditions " were constantly increased, and formed a New
Law, which passed from mouth to mouth, and from genera-
tion to generation, till, at last, public schools rose for its
study and development, of which the most famous were
those of Hillel and Schammai, in the generation before
Jesus, and even, perhaps, in His early childhood. In His
lifetime it was still a fundamental rule that they should
not be committed to writing. It was left to Rabbi Judah,
the Holy, to commence the collection and formal engrossing
of the almost countless fragments of which it consisted, and
from his weary labour ultimately rose the huge folios of the

Talmud.'*® « Cohen,

As in the case of the Brahminical theocracy of India, schW^se.
that of Judea attached more importance to the ceremonial |g^*g^
precepts of its schools than to the sacred text on which they
were based. Wherever Scripture and Tradition seemed
opposed, the latter was treated as the higher authority.
Pharisaism openly proclaimed this, and set itself, as the

X

206 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

oHAP.mv. Gospel expresses it, in the chair of Moses,** displacing the

« Uatt. 28. 9.

M Boxtoi^Lex.
tubvoe.

great lawgiver. " It is a greater offence," sajrs the Mischna,
" to teach anything contrary to the voice of the Rabbis,
than to contradict Scripture itself. He who says, contrary to
Scripture, 'It is not lawful to wear the Tephillin * " — the little
leather boxes containing texts of Scripture, bound, during
prayer, on the forehead and on the arm — "is not to be
punished as a troubler. But he who says there should be
five divisions in the Totaphoth" — another name for the
^^ Tephillin, or phylacteries «>—" and thus teaches differently
« sILh^m, from the Rabbis, is guilty. " ^^ " He who expounds the
Gewdiiohte'd. Scriptures in opposition to the Tradition " says R. Eleazar,
jiSh^SET' " ^^ ^^ share in the world to come." The mass of Rab-
Etei^iS; binical prescriptions — not the Scripture — ^was regarded as the
tort ftm*. ' basis of religion, " for the Covenant of God was declared to
«2-««^ have been made with Israel on account of the oral Law, as
it is written, * After the tenor of these words I have made a
« Exod. M. j7. covenant,' &(i}^ For God knew that, in after ages, Israel
would be carried away among strange people, who would
copy off the written Law, and, therefore. He gave them the
oral Law, that His will might be kept secret among them-
»« AmmDde selvcs." ^ Thosc who gave themselves to the knowledge of
KjtOTfl syn. the Traditions " saw a great light," ^ for God enlightened
« imiah 9. L their eyes, and showed them how they ought to act in re-
lation to lawful and unlawful things, clean and unclean,
which are not told thus fully and clearly in Scripture. It
was, perhaps, good to give one's self to the reading of the
Scripture, but he who reads diligently the Traditions re-
ceives a reward from God, and he who gives himself to the
Commentaries on these traditions has the greatest reward
«• Ewmmengep. of all. ^ "Thc Biblc was Hkc water, the Traditions like
tortsyn."" wine, the Commentaries on them like spiced wine." "My
son," says the Talmud, "give more heed to the words of
Eiaenmenger, thc Rabbis thau to thc words of the Law." ^^ So exactly
alike is Ultramontanism in every age, and in all religions !
Jesus had no sympathy with a system which thus ignored
conscience, and found the essence of religion in the slavery
of outward forms. The New Kingdom was in the heart ; in
the loving sonship of the Father in Heaven, and all outward

M

830.

A DEPUTATION TO CAPEftNAUM. 207

observances had value only as expressions of this tender re- ohap. xuv.
lationship. The Pharisees had refined the Law into a
microscopic casuistry which prescribed for every isolated
act, but Jesus brought it into the compass of a living prin-
ciple in the souL From the outer particular requirement,
He passed to the spirit it was intended to express. Special
enactments were suffered to fall aside, if the vital idea they
embodied were honoured. A lifetime was hardly enough
to learn the Rabbinical precepts respecting offerings, but
Jesus virtually abrogated them all by the short utterance

that " mercy was better than sacrifice." ^^ The schools had »' Matt 9.13;

, 12. 7.

added to the simple distinctions of the Law between clean

and unclean beasts, endless distinctions respecting different

parts of each, and the necessary rites ; the simple rule of

Jesus was — It is not what enters the mouth that defiles a man,

but what comes from the heart.^® The Rabbis contended « M»tt. w. n.

Hark 7.10.

after what uses vessels should be purified in running, after
what in drawn water, and how wooden and metal dishes
were to be minutely discriminated. Jesus waived aside this
trifling and deadly pedantry, and told His hearers to take
care to have what was within clean, and then the outside
would be clean also.^^ Even the Sabbath laws, with their » Luke n. 89.
countless enactments, were as briefly condensed. " It is
lawful to do good on the Sabbath day." " The Sabbath was
made for man, not man for the Sabbath." ^ Such teaching •• vut 2. 27.
was unheard of in Israel. In was revolutionary in the
grandest sense.

The deputation of Rabbis now sent to Capernaum were
determined to bring matters to a crisis. Their spies, and,
perhaps, themselves, had carefully gathered evidence whether
Jesus and His disciples observed the traditions, and carried
them out with the minuteness of a recognized religious duty ;
whether He and they dipped their hands duly before eating ;
whether they held them up or down in doing so ; whether
they wetted them to the elbows or to the knuckles, or
wetted only the finger-tips, as the school of Schammai pre-
scribed for certain cases ; and they had found, to their horror,
that neither He nor His disciples washed their hands thus
ceremonially at all. The next Passover would show how

208 THE MFB OF CHKIST.

OHAP. xuv. formally they had Ifdd their information against Him, before
the Sanhedrim, with its leaders, the high priest Caiaphas
and the powerful Hannas, for such independence and
audacity.

Meanwhile, their demand for an explanation gave Jesus
the desired opportunity to break, finally, with their whole
party. A casuistry worthy of Suarez or Escobar, had
sapped the fundamental principles of morality in the name
of religion. With a keen eye to the interests of their caste,
the Rabbis had trifled with the subject of oaths and vows
in such a way that the treasury of the Temple was not only
sacred from all public appeals, but was continually enriched
by money, which ought, rightfully, to have gone to the
support of families and relations, and even of aged or poor
parents. The utterance of the word " Corban" ^ — *' I have
vowed it to sacred uses" — sequestrated anything, absolutely
and irreversibly, to the Temple. It might be spoken under
the influence of death-bed terror, or in the weakness of super-
stitious fear, but if once uttered, the Church threw round
the money or property thus secured the impassable barrier
of her ghostly claims.

To honour one's parents was one of the "Ten Words " of
Sinai, and no duty was held more sacred by a Jew unper-
verted by Rabbinical sophistry. It was not forgotten that
it was the one commandment to which a promise of reward
was attached. " A child is bound to maintain his parents
when old and -helpless," says one passage in the Talmud,
" even if he have to beg to do so." But this, unfortunately,
was not the uniform teaching of Christ's day. If one Rabbi
had put filial duty before the right to vow for one's own
advantage, others had taught that it was a duty to honour

«Nedapini,f. God bcforc hououriug human relationships^^ — a smooth
phrase for legalizing gifts to the Church at the expense
even of father and mother. The hierarchical party ignored
all interests but their own, and subordinated natural duty
to their own enrichment. Pharisaism, in its moral decay,
had come to be a spiritual death, corrupting the springs of
national life. A few years later, in the time of the great
famine of the year a.d. 45, under Claudius, the theocratic

64. ool. L

HTPOCBITICAL MORALITT. 209

party 80 heartlessly cared for themselves, that while the chap, zur
people were perishing of hunger by hundreds, no remission
of Temple dues was permitted, and the Passover alone saw
forty-one attic bushels of wheat presented at the altar, to be
presently removed for the use of the priests, though the issa-
rion — ^a measure of three and a half pints ^^ — sold for four •tim.ct
drachmas,® a sum equal to about twenty-six shillings at the toa&. D&of
present value of money.^ Josephus, indeed, boasts that no "weight8,"&o.
priest ate a crumb of the grain thus relentlessly hoarded, but vy%.
when even a high priest was known as "the disciple of " hS^J^tIS.'
gluttons," rioting in great feasts on the sacrifices and wine ^**'*'
of the altar, ^^ the mass of his order would not be fastidious •• •wmJd:
about the wheat and the bread. Jwenbowg.

Representatives of this smooth hypocrisy had now gathered JJ^ ^*- ^—
round Jesus, and proceeded to inquire into His alleged un- ^""^ ^* *"■"•
lawful acts. " How comes it," asked they, " that a teacher
who claims a higher sanctity than others can quietly permit
His disciples to neglect a custom imposed by our wise fore-
fathers, and so carefully observed by every pious Israelite ?
How is it that they do not wash their hands before eating ? "

"They neglect only a ceremony introduced by men," re-
torted Jesus; "but how comes it that you, who know the Law,
transgress commands which are not of man, but from God
Himself? How comes it that, for the sake of traditions
invented by the Rabbis, you set aside the most explicit com-
mands of God ? He has, for example, said that we must
honour our fiither and mother, and support and care for
them in old age,* He has declared it worthy of death for
any one to deny his parents due reverence, or to treat them
harshly or with neglect. But you have invented a doctrine
which absolves children, in many cases, from this command-
ment. *If any one,' says your * tradition,' *is asked by
his parents for a gift, or help, for their benefit, he has only
to say that he has vowed that very part of his means to the
Temple, and they cannot press him further to contribute to
their support.* How cunningly have you thus circumvented
God's law 1 How easy is it for any one to break it, and
affect a zeal for religion in doing so !

" Ye hypocrites ! — acting religion " — now for the first time

VOL. n. 63

210 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

CHAP, xuv. thus denouncing them and their party — " well has Isaiah
painted you when he introduces God as saying, *This
nation has its worship in words, and its religion is of the
lips, while its heart is far from me. Their service of me is
worthless, for it is not my Law, but only human inven-

•• iaaifths«.u tion.'®^ Thesc words describe you to the letter. You put
aside wha* God has commanded, and has enforced by pro-
mises and threats, and yet keep, superstitiously, * traditions '
which only custom, and homage to human teachers, have
introduced. Of this kind are your hand-washings, and
many similar usages."

Such a defence was an open declaration of war against
Pharisaism, and the hierarchy closely indentified with it.
His words struck at the insinceritv and false-heartedness of
the party as a whole, at its fundamental principles, its
practice, its modes of thought, its whole ideas and aims.
They are pious, very pious, He tells them, in outward seem-
ing. They keep the traditions fastidiously, but their piety
is from the lips, not the heart ; obedience to the Rabbis, not
God. They wash pots and cups, and care for gifts, as their
religion, and ignore the commands of Jehovah. No irony
could be more keen or annihilating. What flames of rage
must it have kindled in the hearts of the great party so
mortally assailed ! They could not challenge His loyalty to
the higher law, for He spoke as its Champion, against their
human additions and perversions. They could not but feel
that, far from destroying either the Law or the Prophets, He
was ennobling and exalting them. But the very light He
poured on the oracles of God showed so much the more the
worthlessness of their cherished system, and their misconcep-
tion of their office as the teachers of the people. He had
virtually condemned not only their setting washings above
duty to parents ; He had denounced them for laying more
stress on the Temple worship and ritual than on such filial
piety. Hence washings, sacrifices, alms, and fasts; all the
loved boastful, pretentious worship and outward practice on
which they rested, were of no value compared with the great
eternal commands of God, and were even crimes and im-
piety, when they proudly set themselves in their room.

THE NEW CHAETER. 211

He arraigned Pharisaism, the dominant orthodoxy, as a ohap.xliv.
whole. The system, so famous, so arrogant, so intensely
Jewish, was only an invention, of man ; a subversion of the
Law it claimed to represent, an antagonism to the prophets
as well as to Moses, the spiritual ruin of the nation !

The die was finally cast. All that it involved had been
long weighed, but He who had come into the world to
witness to the Truth could let no prudent regard for self
restrain His testimony. It was vital that the people who fol-
lowed the Rabbis and priests should know what the religion
and morals thus taught by them were worth. The truth could
not find open ears while men's hearts were misled and pre-
judiced by such instructors. No one would seek inward re-
newal who had been taught to care only for externals, and
to ignore the sin and corruption within. Pharisaism was
a creed of moral cosmetics and religious masks, as all
ritual systems must ever be. With Jesus the only true re-
ligion was purity of heart and absolute sincerity to truth.
Leaving the Rabbis, therefore, and calling round Him the
crowd which was lingering near. He proclaimed aloud the
great principle He had laid down — " Hear me, all of you,"
cried He, " and understand. There is nothing from without
the man that, entering into him, can defile him ; but the
things which come out of the man are those that defile
him." Words clear enough to us, perhaps, but grand be-
yond thought when uttered, for they w^ere the knell of
caste — heard now, for the first time, in the history of the
world ; of national divisions and hatreds, and of the religious
worth of external observances, as such, and the inauguration
of a universal religion of spirit and truth! Nothing ex-
ternal, they proclaimed, made clean or unclean, holy or
unholy. Purity and impurity were words applicable only
to the soul and its utterances and acts. The Charter of
spiritual religion : the abrogation of the supremacy of forms
and formula for ever, was at last proclaimed ; the leaven of
religious freedom cast into the life of humanity, in the end,
to leaven it throughout !

Even the disciples were alarmed at an attitude so revolu-
tionary. In common with the nation at large, they looked

212 THE LIFE OF CHRIST

OTAP^xuv. on the Rabbis with a superstitious reverence, and now
hastened to tell Jesus how deeply the whole class was
oflfended by His words. It was hard for simple GalilaBan
peasants to break away from hereditary habits of thought
But Christ's answer was ready. " Every plant which my
Heavenly Father has not planted, shall be rooted out.
Leave them: they are blind leaders of the blind, and, as
such, both they and their followers must stumble on to

" M.tt.ttia destruction ! "^^ The plants of human, not divine planting,
were the " traditions " and " commandments of men " — ^the
" hedge of the Law," in which the Rabbis gloried. Hence-
forth, there was a breach for ever between the men of the
Schools and the New Kingdom.

But the mind is slow to realize great spiritual truths. To
the disciples, their Master's words were dark and strange, de-
manding explanation. Nor was it possible, either then, or
even to the very last, to familiarize them with the new ideas
they involved, or free them from the influence of past
modes of thought. The tendency to regard the external and
formal as a vital and leading characteristic of religion, was
well-nigh unconquerable, in minds habituated to Jewish
conceptions.* An earnest request of Peter, for further expla-
nation, only drew forth an amplification of what had been
already said. The evil in man was traced directly to the
thoughts ; but to eat with unwashed hands, it was repeated,
made a man in no way " common " or polluted, as alleged
by the Pharisees. Yet the truth had to lie long in the
breasts of the Twelve before it wrought their spiritual
emancipation from the slavery of the past. The natural
and eternal distinction of good and evil was proclaimed,
after having been obscured for ages by an artificial morality,
but to fiilly unlearn inveterate prejudice would require the
lapse of generations

THE COASTS OF THE HBATHBN. 213

CHAPTER XLV.

THE COASTS OP THE HEATHEN.

JESUS had now, apparently, been two years before tbe chap^v.
world as a religious teacher, and had had the usual lot
of those who seek to reform entrenched and prosperous
abuses. A brief and dazzling popularity had roused the
bitter hostility of threatened interests, and they had at last
banded together for His destruction. For months past He
had seen the death-clouds gathering ever more threateningly
over Him, and had devoted Himself with calm anticipation
of the end, to the task of training the Twelve to continue
His work when He had perished. He had taken the utmost
care to avoid open collision with His enemies, and to confine
Himself to the instruction of the little circle round Him ;
but the priests and Rabbis had been quick to see in this
very quiet and retirement their greatest danger, for open
conflict might destroy what peaceful seclusion would give
opportunity to take root. '*The world," as He Himself
expressed it, " hated Him, because He witnessed of it that
its works were evil."^ Not only His formal accusations and > Joimr.7.
the spirit of His teaching, but His whole life and actions,
and even His gentlest words, arraigned things as they were.
Rumours of possible action against Him by Antipas
increased the difficulty of the situation. Every one knew
that He and many of His followers had come from the
school of the Baptist, whom Antipas had just murdered,
and it was evident that His aim was more or less similar to
John's, though His acts were more wonderful Hence specula-
tion was rife respecting Him. Was He the promised Elias ?
or, at least, Jeremiah, risen from the dead? or was He
some special prophet sent from God? ^ Many, indeed, were • J^*-"*

liatt. le. 14.

214 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

CHAP. xLv. questioning if He might not even be the Messiah, and were
willing to accept Him as such, if He would only head a
national revolt, in alliance with the Rabbis and priests,
against the Romans. To Antipas His appearance was doubly
alarming, for it seemed as if the fancied revolutionary move-
ment of John had broken out afresh more fiercely than ever,
and superstition, working in an uneasy conscience, easily saw
in Him a resurrection of the murdered Baptist, endowed,
now, with the awful power of the eternal world from which
he had returned. A second murder seemed needed to make
the first effective, and to avoid this additional danger Jesus
for a time sought concealment.

But the craft and violence of the half-heathen Antipas,
' was a slight evil compared with the hatred which glowed
ever more intensely in the breasts of the Rabbis and priests
of Jerusalem, and in those of the Pharisees, and other
disciples of the schools, scattered over the country. The
demands of Jesus were far beyond the mere sunmions of the
Baptist, to prepare for a new and better time. He required
immediate submission to a new Theocracy. He excited the
fury of the dominant party, not Uke the Baptist, by isolated
bursts of denunciation, but by working quietly, as a King in
His own kingdom, which, while in the world, was some-
thing far higher. Hence, the feeling against Him was very
different from the partial, cautious, and intermittent hatred
of the Baptist. The hierarchy and the Rabbis, as the
centre of that which, with all its corruptions, was the only
true religion on earth as yet, felt themselves compromised
directly and fatally by Him, and could not maintain them-
selves as they were, if He were tolerated. The whole spiritual
power of Israel was thus arrayed against Him; a force slowly
created by the possession, for ages, of the grandest religious
truths known to the ancient world, and by the pride of a long
and incomparably sublime national history. It had been
assailed in the past, at long intervals, from without, but
in recent years it had been for the first time attacked
fi'om within, by the Baptist, and now felt itself still more
dangerously assaulted by this Galilaean. To crush such an
apparently insignificant opponent— a peasant of Nazareth,

BAKKBNING HOSTILITY. 215

rising, singly and unsupported, against a power so colossal — obap.xlYs
seemed easy; nor could it be fancied more difficult to scatter
and destroy His small band of followers, as yet, mostly, de-
spised peasants.

The first official step towards the repression of the new
movement had, apparently, been abeady taken, on the occasion
of the last visit of Jesus to Jerusalem. His cure of the blind
man on the Sabbath, had then brought down on Him the
warning punishment of the lesser excommunication, which
entailed formal exclusion from the synagogues of Judea,^ and » Joim?. i;
was all they dared as yet inffict. In consequence of it. He ^^^^- '
had never returned to the south, but confined Himself to the *^**^**^*^-
north, where the synagogues were still open to Him. The
same sentence seems now to have been gradually extended
to the synagogues of Galilee, for we cease to read of His
entering them or teaching in them. But as this measure
evidently failed, spies were let loose on Him, to dog His
steps constantly, and find ground for fresh charges, even by
invading the privacy of His home life.

This deadly hatred, with all that it involved in the future,
had been foreseen from the first, and His utmost care. His
seclusion, and His innocence, had only delayed the crisis
that had now come. The foundation of His new kingdom
on a firm basis, by the choice and preparation of the Twelve,
had, however, lightened the thought of it, and neutralized
its worst consequences. Yet it was still necessary to ward
off^ the catastrophe as long as possible, in order to advance
the great work of building up, as far as might be, the infant
society He had established ; for it was slow work to ripen
vigorous faith and adequate spirituality, even in those und6r
His personal influence. But the growing hatred and ill-will
of His enemies made lengthened residence in any one place
henceforth undesirable, and He had from this time to take
more frequent, as well as wider circuits, to escape them.
Yet there were compensating benefits even in this wandering
life, for it made it easier, amidst the many unforeseen inci-
dents of each day, to raise the Twelve to that higher faith
and greater steadfastness which yet failed them, and it
enabled Him to help many in outljdng parts, who were fitted

216

THE LIFE OF CHBIST

4 EwmUTt
Christaa,

oflAP. xLv. to receive good at His hands. The gracious purpose of God
was thus leading Him to visit in peace all the chief places of
the land, which it was His great mission to summon to enter
His kingdom.

One inevitable result was that the nearer the end came,
the more necessary was it to make clear to the Twelve
the causes of this hatred shown towards Him. and the
divine necessity of His approaching death. Hence, He
took every opportunity from this time to impress both
thoughts more and more clearly on His followers. His
■warnings against the corruptions of the hierarchical party
became more frequent, and constantly keener, until, at
last, the Twelve understood, in some measure, the whole
situation.*

Leaving the shores of the Sea of Galilee, He now turned
to the far north, with the Twelve as companions of His
flight. His way led Him over the rough uplands towards
Safed, with its near view of the snowy summits of Lebanon.
Then, leaving Gischala on the right, the road passed through
one of the many woody valleys of these highland regions, till,
at the distance of two days' journey from the Lake, it reached
the slope at the foot of which lay the plains of Tyre. A
yellow strip of beach and sand divides the hills from the sea,
into which the insular tongue of land on which Tyre was
built stretched far.^ He looked down, perhaps for the first
time so closely, on the smoking chimneys of the glass works
of Sidon and of the dye works at Tyre ; on the long rows of
warehouses filled with the merchandise of the world ; on the
mansions, monuments, public buildings, palaces, and temples
of the two cities, and their harbours and moles crowded with
shipping. The busy scene before Him was the land of the
accursed Canaanite; the seat of the worship of Baal and
Ashtaroth, which had of old so often corrupted Israel ; a
region, with all its wealth and splendour, and surpassing
beauty of palm groves, and gardens, and embowering green,
so depraved and polluted, that the Hebrew had adopted the
name of Beelzebub— one of its idols — ^as the name for the
Prince of Devils. Yet, even here, Jesus felt a pity and
charity unknown to His nation, and the great sea beyond,

• IIftii>mtli,L
MS.

THE BORDERS OP TTRB. 217

whitened with wing-like sails, would be like a dream of the chap.xlt.
future, when distant lands, washed by the waves over which
these vessels sped, would gladly receive the message He came
to deliver.

Whether He passed into heathen territory is a question.
He may only have gone as far as the border of the alien
district. The whole region was more or less thickly settled
by Jews, drawn by commerce, or through long historic
association with the district, which had been assigned to
Asshtir, though never won by that tribe. So far back as the
days of the judges, the population had been half heathen,
half Jewish.^ Kept back, through all their history, from the • jvdgeiL a
sea-coast, Israel had come to hate the life of a sailor from
which they were thus debarred, and hence were contented
to settle amidst the busy traders of Phenicia, without at-
tempting, after the first failure, to dispossess them.^ No » BoMnminiflr,
retreat could have promised more safe retirement, but Jesus ^i^'iLioy
was now too universally known to remain anywhere undis-
covered, for numbers had come to Galilee, even from these
very districts, to see and hear Him.

His mission, during His life, had been repeatedly defined
by Himself, as only to the lost sheep of the House of IsraeL
That he felt no narrow exclusiveness had been already
shown by the incidents of His journey through Samaria, and
by the prophetic joy with which He had predicted the
entrance of many from the heathen world into His new
Society.^ Even His sympathy with publicans and sinners, • 1^*1 a u-
and with the outcast sunken multitude, whose ignorance of ^ **'
Rabbinnical precepts was held to mark them as accursed of
God, had, in fact, been as distinct protests against Pharisaic
bigotry as He could have made even by the formal recog-
nition of heathens as citizens of His new society. And had
He not proclaimed the supreme truth that God was the Great
Father of all mankind, and that the human race round the
world were brethren in His great household ? But pity for His
own nation — the Israel of the Old Covenant — ^forbade His
going forth, for the time, to all races, with the open invitation
to join the new Theocracy. It would at once have sealed
the fate of His people, for what was offered to the heathen

218 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

oHAPjcLv would, from that very fact^ have been instantly rejected by
the fanatical Jew.

It was vain for Him to seek rest. A woman of the
country, by language a Greek, by nationality a Canaanite, and
by residence a Syro-Phenician — for Phenicia was attached
to the Roman province of Syria — ^perhaps a heathen, but, in
any case, of an humble religious heart, heard that He was
• ifott. If. in the neighbourhood.^ His fame had long before spread so
gjjm-^jjJJ- widely, that the wondrous cures He had performed were
SSd^**** everywhere known. Among others, this woman had heard
H^illaeUi of them, and maternal love was quick to turn them to its own
unselfish account. She had a daughter " grievously vexed
with a devil," and at once came over the border* to implore
Jesus to have mercy on her child. The half belief that He
was the Messiah had spread even to Tyre, and was accepted
in her poor unenlightened way by the supplicant. He was
abroad with the Twelve when she found Him, and forthwith
entreated Him — " Lord, son of David, have mercy on me."
She had made her child's trouble her own. Such an inci-
dent, at a time when He sought to remain unknown, must
have been very disturbing, for it might put His enemies on
His track. From whatever cause. He took no notice of her
prayers. But she would not be denied, and persistently
followed Him with her wailing petitions, as He went along,
till the Twelve, filled with harsh Jewish prejudice, and mis-
taking the reason of their Master's silence, grew indignant at
her pertinacity, and begged Him to send her away and stop
her crying after them. That a foreigner, and, above all, a
Canaanite, accursed of God, should share His mercies, was, as
yet, far too liberal a conception for them. Did not the
Rabbis teach that the race built their houses in the name of
u Eiaemneoger, their idols, SO that cvil Spirits came and dwelt in them ? ^^
and was not Beelzebub, the Prince of the Devils, their chief
god? The answer of Jesus seemed to favour this bitter
exclusiveness — " He was not sent except to the lost sheep of
the House of Israel I " They little knew that His help was
kept back only in pity for His own nation, whom mercy to
abhorred unclean Canaanites would embitter against Him to
their own destruction. It was vain, however, to try to weary

THE WOMAN OF CANAAN. 219

out a mother's love. Following Him into the house, though chapjuiV.
He would fain have remained unknown, she cast herself at
His feet and renewed her prayer. To the Twelve she was
only a " dog," as the Jews regarded all heathen.^^ Veiling " sisenmeDgei;
the tenderness of His heart in affected roughness of speech, g^^ hw^
softened, doubtless, by the trembling sympathy of His voice ^^^^ "•
and His gentle looks, He told her that the children — Israel,
the sons of God — ^must first be fed before others could be
noticed. " It is not right," said He, " to take the children's
bread and cast it to the dogs." Then, as now, the traveller,
entering or leaving a town or village, had only too much
. reason to notice the troops of lean, sharp-nosed masterless
dogs, which filled the air with their cries as he passed, and no
one could sit at a meal without the chance of some of them
coming in at the ever-open door to pick up t^e frag-
ments,^ always to be found where only the fingers were used
at table.

With a woman's quickness, and a mother's invincible
love, deepened by irrepressible trust in Him whose face and
tones so contradicted His words, even this seeming harshness
was turned to a resistless appeal. " Yes, Lord," said she,
" it is true : still the dogs are allowed to eat the fragments
that fall from the children's table." She had conquered.
" 0 woman," said Jesus, " great is thy faith ; be it unto thee
as thou wilt." His word was enough, and going her way
she found, on reaching her house, that her daughter, no
longer raving, was perfectly cured, and lay calmly in bed,
once more herself.® The Twelve had learned, at last, that
even heathen " dogs" were not to be sent, unheard, away.

How long Jesus stayed in these parts is unknown. It
would seem as if this incident had forced Him to leave
sooner than He had proposed. He did not, however, return
at once to Capernaum, but set out north-eastwards, through
the territory of Sidon, to the country east of Jordan. The
Roman road which ran over the richly wooded hills, almost
straight eastward, from Tyre to Cajsarea Philippi, was too far
to the south. He must have taken the caravan road, which
still runs from Sidon on the south side of the mountain
stream Bostrenus, climbing the spurs of Lebanon, with their

220 THE LIFE OF CHBIST.

^'HAP^v. woods and noble mountain scenery, till it crosses the range
amidst peaks six thousand feet high, at the natural rock-
bridge over the deep, rushing Leontes. Turning, now,
down the valley of the Upper Jordan, under the shadow of
the Hermon range, rising 9,500 feet high in their highest
peak, He, erelong, at Gaasarea Philippi, reached the open
country, with a wide view of the broad reedy marshes of
Ulatha and Merom, the hills of Galilee, and the wide up-
lands of Gaulonitis. How long He spent on the journey is
not told. Perhaps He stopped by the way, for Lebanon
was full then, as now, of villages ; perhaps He only passed
through them on His way. His final purpose by this wide
circuit, was to reach His old haunts without passing through
Galilee, and this brought Him, apparently for the first
time, to the wide territory of the ten allied free cities — ^the
Decapolis.

These cities were simply places which the Jews had not
succeeded in re-conquering, after their return from Babylon.
They had thus remained in the hands of the heathen, though
in Palestine ; had preserved distinct municipal government^
and had joined in a political alliance, offensive and defen-
sive. To the Jews they were a continual offence, and they
were the first to suffer firom the fii^nzied fanaticism of the
nation when it rose in its last great revolt Most of them,
full of busy life, and adorned with splendid temples, baths,
theatres, and public buildings, when Jesus passed through
them, were destined, before another generation, to perish
amidst fire and sword.

Even here the feme of the great Teacher attracted multi-
tudes of Jews settled all over the half-foreign district, espe-
cially in its towns and cities, and revived for a time the cheer-
ing scenes of the past. The cripple, the blind, the dumb, the
deformed,^ and many others, variously afflicted, were either
brought to Him, or came ; till He was once more forced, as
of old, to retreat to the hills, in the vain effort to gain quiet.
The popular excitement^ however, made rest impossible.
They sought and found Him wherever He ndght be, and
enjoyed not only the benefits of His supernatural power,
« Matt 18. but the richer blessings of His teaching. ^^ Only one inci-

THE BTJMB HBALED. 231

dent is given in detail ^^ A man had been brought to Him oHAPjav.
who was deaf, and could only stammer inarticulately ; and " m^^t.
He was besought to heal him. From what motive is not
told, He varied His usual course. Taking him aside from
the multitude, perhaps to have more freedom, perhaps to
avoid their too great excitement and its possibly hurtful
political consequences, He put His fingers into the man's ears,
and touched his tongue with a finger moistened on His
own lips. It may be that these simple forms were intended
to waken faith in one who could hear no words, for, without
the fitting spirit, the miracle would not have been wrought.
Looking up to heaven, as if to lift the thoughts of the un-
fortunate man to the Eternal Father, whose power alone
could heal him, Jesus then, at last, uttered the single word
of the popular dialect — "Ephphatha" — " Be opened" — and
He was perfectly cured. An injunction to keep the miracle
private was of no avail : the whole country was presently
filled with reports of it, and of other similar wonders.

The vast concourse attracted by such scenes may be ima-
gined ; ^* for in the East especially, it is easy for the popula- 1« uut i&
tion, with their simple wants, and the mildness of the sky, MMk8.i-«.
which in the warm months invites sleeping in the open air
by night, to camp out as they think fit. But, as often
happens, even in our own day, with the Easter pilgrims at
Jerusalem, many found their provisions run short, and as
in these strange and motley crowds nxmibers often die of
want,^^ many of those following Jesus might have sunk by " J^JJJ^^,
the way but for His thoughtful care, for numbers had come •^•^ "• *^
far. Once more the crowds were caused to sit on the
ground, and were fed from the scanty provision found on
the spot, which was no more than seven of the round loaves
of the country, and a few small dried fishes from the Lake
of Galilee. Four thousand men, besides women and child-
ren, were supplied from this scanty store, and seven baskets*
of fragments, afterwards gathered, attested that they had
suflfered no stint.

Leaving the easterti side of the Lake, to which His wan-
derings had led Him, Jesus now, once more, crossed to the
neighbourhood of Magdala,' at the lower end of the Plain of

222 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

<^H^'"^- Gennesareth, and close to Capernaum. He had hardly re-
appeared before His enemies were once more in motion.
The Pharisees had already stifled their dislike of the Hero-
dians, and had formed an alliance with them, that they
might the more easily crush Him. It marked the growing
malignity of feeling that a class fanatically proud of their
ceremonial and moral purity — a class from whose midst had
sprung the Zealots for the Law, who abhorred all rule* ex-
cept that of a restored theocracy — should have banded
themselves with a party of moral indiflferentists, partial to
monarchy, and guilty of flattering even the hated family of
Herod. But a still more ominous sign of increasing danger
showed itself in even Sadducees joining the Pharisees to
make new attempts to compromise Jesus with the authorities
The Sadducees, few, but haughty and powerful, held the
highest posts in the Jewish state, and represented the Law.
They were of the priestly caste, and held the chief offices in
the hierarchy. Their name was perhaps derived from the
.famous ancient family of Zadok, of whom Ezekiel speaks
as having the charge of the altar, and as, alone, of the
sons of Levi, appointed to come before the Eternal, to

w E»k.4o.46. serve Him.^^ Joshua, the son of Jozedek, the comrade of

Zans and

Flint*! Bibei. Zcrubbabel, was of this House, so that, after the Return, as

before it, it seems to have been the foremost among the

priestly families. In any case, the Sadducees of the times of

Josephus and the Apostles not only held the highest Temple

w Aiitxviii.8.4. offices, but represented the purest Jewish blood. ^^

Act! 4. 1—9

«•"• ' But this priestly aristocracy were by no means the most
zealous for the sanctuary from which they drew their
honours and wealth. They counted in their ancestry not
only high priests like Joshua and Simon the Just, but
traitors to their country like Manasseh,fi^ Menelaus, and the
younger Onias. Already, in the time of Ezra and Nehe-
miah, they had given occasion for the charge that the highest
officials had been foremost in breaking the theocratic laws,
and had even sought to turn parts of the Temple into a
*• En»9.«. splendid family mansion.^® They had coquetted and debased
their offices to win favour with the Ptolemies and the Syrian
kings; they had held back, in half Greek irreligiousness.

THE SADDUCEES. 223

from taking a vigorous part in the glorious MaccabaBan oharxlv.
struggle, and now truckled to heathen procurators, or with
a half heathen king, to preserve their honours and vested in-
terests. To please Herod, they had admitted Simon Boethus,
the Alexandrian, the father of the king's young wife, to the
high priesthood, from which a strict Jew, Jesus the son of
Phabi, had been expelled to make room for him. They had
even shown frank and hearty submission and loyalty to
Rome.

The nation, with its chosen religious leaders, the Phari-
sees— the representatives of the " Saints " who had con-
quered in the great war of religious independence — never
forgot the faint-heartedness and treachery of the priestly
nobility in that magnificent struggle. Their descent might
secure its members hereditary possession of the dignified offices
of the Church, and there might still be a charm in their
historical names ; but they were regarded with open distrust
and dislike by the nation and the Pharisees alike, and had
to make many concessions to Pharisaic rules to protect them-
selves from actual violence.

The strict fanatical heads of the Synagogue and leaders of
the people, and the cold and polished Temple aristocracy,
were thus bitterly opposed, and it added to the keenness of
the dislike that the dreams by the Rabbinical, or Pharisaic
party, of a restored theocracy, could only be realized through
the existing organization of the priesthood, of which the
indijflferent Sadducees had the control.

Theological hatred, the bitterest of all passions, added addi-
tional intensity to this political opposition. The Sadducees
had no inclination to be taught their duty by the Rabbis of
village synagogues, and rejected the whole body of Pharisaic
tradition and jurisprudence, taking for their only authority
the written law of Moses, though to this were generally
added some traditions of their own. Holding the highest
offices of the theocracy, and the members of families which
had officiated in the Temple of Solomon itself, they dis-
dained to be taught what was lawful in Israel, or to accept
the hair-splitting refinements of the democratic and puri-
tan Pharisees. To the constantly increasing decisions and

224 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

^'HAFjLv. requirements of the Rabbis, they stolidly opposed the vene^
able letter of the ancient Law. That their creed was cold
and rationalistic, compared to that of the Rabbis, was, per-
haps, the result of this attitude, but was not its cause. The
instinctive conservatism of " the first in rank," inevitably
took its stand on the original documents of the Law in op
position to the heated exaggerations of the plebeian school-

** ^^'•** T^^^' Both sides vaunted their orthodoxy.^® The Sadducees
were as deeply committed to support the theocracy as their
popular rivals, for it was the basis of their dignities, their
wealth, and even their existence. Fierce controversies, often
culminating in bloodshed, marked the devotion of both alike
to their opinions, and these opinions themselves illustrated
the position of the two parties. The Sadducees uniformly
fell back on the letter of the Law, the prescriptive rights of
the Temple, and the glory of the priesthood ; the Pharisees,
on the other hand, took their stand on the authority of the
Rabbinical traditions, the value of sacred acts apart firom
the interposition of the priest, and advocated popular in-
terests generally.

The contrast between the spirit of the two parties showed
itself prominently in the harsh tenacity with which the
Temple aristocracy held to the letter of the Mosaic Law in
its penalties, as opposed to the milder spirit in which the
Pharisees interpreted them, in accordance with the spirit of
the times. The Pharisees, for example, explained the Mosaic

» Dtatsisi demand — ^an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth ^ — ^meta-
phorically, and allowed recompense to be made in money,
but the Sadducees required exact compliance. The Sad-
ducees required that the widow should literally spit in the
face of the brother-in-law who refused her the levitate mar-

« D«oi ». 9. riage rights,^^ but it was enough for the Pharisees that she
spat on the ground before him. The Pharisees permitted

a Ler.T.si the carcass of a beast that had died^* to be used for any
other purpose than food, to save loss to the owner, but the
Sadducees denounced the penalties of uncleanness on so lax
a practice. They sternly required that a false witness be
put to death, according to the letter of the Law, even if his
testimony had done the accused no injury, and many did

SADDUCEB STERNNESS. 225

•

not even shrink from carrying out the reasoning of the chap.xlv.
Rabbis, that, as two witnesses were always required to con-
demn the accused, both witnesses should always be executed
when any perjury had been committed in the case.^^ ^ q,^^ oescx

This blind insistance on the letter of laws which ages had 8.459.'^*"'*
made obselete, fixed on the Sadducees the name of " The
Condemning Judges," and Joseph us testifies that they were
more ruthless in their judicial decisions than any other
Jews. 2^ The Pharisees, on the other hand, had for their« Antxx.9.1.
axiom the saying of Joshua Ben Perachia — " Judge every-
thing on the presumption of innocence ; " or that of Hillel —
" Put yourself in your neighbour's place before you judge
him." Hence, a prisoner blessed himself when he saw oppo-
site him, on his judges, the broad phylactery of the Pharisee,
and not the white robe of the priestly Sadducee. Both our
Lord and St. Paul had the multitude stirred up against
them by the Pharisees, but they were condemned by Sad-
ducee judges, and it was Sadducee judges who murdered

ot. James. » Derenbous.

This relentless ferocity of priestly houses, who rested on vted?JSS
the favour of the rich and titled few, was dictated only by
the class interests of the Temple nobility, whose claims and
privileges could not be justified except by the blind main-
tenance of things as they were. Unchanging conservatism
was their only safety; the least innovation seemed an omen
of revolution.

But there were even deeper grounds of dislike and oppo-
sition. The Pharisees, as the hereditary representatives of
puritans who had delivered the nation in the great struggle
against Syria, looked forward with touching though fana-
tical yearning, to the realization of the prophecies of Daniel,
which, as they understood them, promised that Israel, under
the Messiah, and with it, themselves, should be raised " to
dominion, and glory, and a kingdom; that all peoples,
nations, and languages should serve Him, and that His
kingdom should be everlasting." ^e They believed that this « Dan. 7. u.
national triumph would be inaugurated so soon as Israel, on
its part, carried out to the full the requirements of the cere-
monial laws, as expounded in their traditions. It was a

VOL. n. S*

226 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

oHAP.xLv. matter of formal covenant, in which the truth and righteous-
ness— ^that is, the justice, of Jehovah were involved. The
morals they demanded might be only mechanical, and their
observances slavery to rites and ceremonies, but they be-
lieved that if they fulfilled their part, God must needs fulfil
His, and they strove hard to make the nation, like them-

r puLs.a. selves, " blameless," touching this righteousness ; ^^ that they
might claim divine interposition as a right. The zeal of the
Pharisee for the Law was, thus, a mere hired service, with
all the restlessness, exaggeration, emulation, and moral
impurity, inseparable from a mercenary spirit.

To this dream of the futui*e, the Sadducees opposed a stolid
and contemptuous indifference. Enjoying the honours and
good things of the world, they had no taste for a revolution
which should introduce, they knew not what, in the place of
a state of things with which they were quite contented.
Their fathers had had no such ideas, and the sons ridiculed
them. They not only laughed aside the Pharisaic idea of
righteousness, as identified with a life of minute and endless
observance, but fell back on the Mosaic Law, and mocked
at the Messianic hope from which the zeal of their rivals had
sprung. "The Sadducees," says Josephus, " believe that the
soul dies with the body, and recognize no authority but that

» AntxtiH.1.4. of the Law.^^ Good was to be done for its own sake, not for
reward in the Messianic kingdom, or at the resurrection of the

» QiAgw, dead." " The Sadducees," says Rabbi Nathan,^^ " use, daily,
note. ' vessels of gold and silver, not for pride, but because the
Pharisees torment themselves in this life, though they will
have nothing in the next."^ As to the world to come, they
left it doubtful, maintaining, if the words in the Talmud be not
an interpolation, in opposition to the Pharisees, that it could

» Deranbonrg, Hot bc provcd from the Books of Moses.^^ They even went
the length of inventing difficulties which they supposed

" Matt M. 28. involved in the resurrection of the dead.^^ "They believe
neither in the resurrection, nor in angel, nor spirit, but the

" Acti38.8. Pharisees confess both," says St. Luke.®^

To all this was added the embitterment of opposite views
on the great subject of human freedom and divine fore-
knowledge. Like all puritans, the Pharisees exalted the

DISUEE OF THE SADDUCEES. 227

latter though they did not deny the former. They had a ohap.ov.
profound belief in Providence, understanding by it that
they themselves were the favourites of Jehovah, and could
count on His taking their side. "The Sadducees," says
Josephus, "maintain that there is no such thing as pre-
destination, and deny that human affairs are regulated by
it, maintaining that our destiny rests with ourselves ; that
we are the cause of our own good fortune, and bring evil on
us by our own folly. "^® The Sadducee was, in fact, a mere » Ant xm. «. n
man of the world, believing only in the present : the Pha-
risee, a mystic, to whom the future and the supernatural
were alL

The nation zealously supported the Pharisees. The spirit
of the age was against the Sadducees. The multitude dis-
liked to hear that what the Maccabaeans had defended with
their blood was uncanonicaL They yielded cheerfully to the
heavy yoke of the Pharisaic Rabbis, for, the more burden-
some the duties required, the greater the future reward for
performance. The Pharisees, moreover, were part of the
people, mingled habitually with them as their spiritual
guides, and were the examples of exact obedience to their
own precepts. Their Messianic dreams were of national
glory, and thus the crowd saw in them the representatives
of their own fondest aspirations. The Sadducees — isolated,
haughty, harsh, and unnational — were hated: their rivals

honoured and followed. The extravagances and the hypocrisy . J

of some might be ridiculed, but they were the accepted
popular leaders.^ « Hauwatb,!.

117—189

Indeed, apart from all other considerations, the fact that i>eronboir&

'A ' 127 — ^189;

the Sadducees supported zealously every government in JS^S?'
turn, was enough to set the people against them. Instead of m^ ^'
thisj the Pharisees shared and fostered the patriotic and
religious abhorrence of the Roman supremacy, and were
sworn enemies of the hated Herodian family The result
was that, in the words of Josephus, " the Pharisees had such
an influence with the people, that nothing could be done
about divine worship, prayers, or sacrifices,^^ except accord- »• Ant xfui. i.
ing to their wishes and rules, for the community believed
they sought only the loftiest and worthiest aims alike in

I

228 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

CHAP. xLv. word and deed. The Sadducees were few in number ; and
though they belonged to the highest ranks, had so little
influence, that when elected to office, they were forced to
comply with the ritual of the Pharisees from fear of the
people."

There were, doubtless, many priests who were not Sad-
ducees— men serving God humbly ; devoted to their sacred
duties, and living in full sympathy of thought and life with

•• Derenbonig, the Pharisces.^^ In the disputes with Jesus, we may be
sure that many such Pharisaic priests ; the great company,
perhaps, who, within a short time after His death, became

w AotB6.7. "obedient to the Faith, "^^ took no part in the fierce malignity
of their brethren. But, now, for the first time, the Sad-
ducees— haughty clerical aristocrats of the Temple — joined
with the hated vulgar Pharisee of the Synagogue to accom-
plish the destruction of the new Teacher. It was the most
ominous sign of the beginning of the end that had yet
appeared.

Eager for a fresh dispute, the strange allies, very likely
fresh from Jerusalem, no sooner found that He had returned,

» iiark8.io-.i2. than they sallied forth ^® to open a discussion. " You
claim," said they, "to be a teacher come from God, and
have given many * signs' that you are so in the miracles you
have performed. But all these signs have been untrust-
worthy, for we know that the earth and even the air are
filled with demons. It is quite possible that the prince of
the devils, to deceive men into supporting your claims, may
have given you power for a time over these demons, and
thus all that you have done may be only a dark plot to undo
us. The Egyptian magicians did miracles, and our fathers
did not believe even Moses for the common wonders He did,
for they might have been wrought only by magic and incan-

3» MaimonideB, tatlous.^^ A sigu from hcavcu, however, is different. It is
in scpp, T. es. ijgyQjj^j ^Yie power of devils : * they can neither shine like

the sun, nor give light like the moon, nor give rain unto
« flftroche. men.'^^ Our Rabbis tell us that when the Kinff-Messias

ma f!tt CJ

comes, and the great war between Gog and Magog begins,
« Talmud, sigus from hcavcu will appear.*^ We are not to expect Him
till a rainbow has spanned the world and filled it with light.^^

189.1.

«> Sohar, Qen
f.M.2.

NO SIGN TO BE GIVEN. 229

Give US bread from heaven, as Moses did, or signs in the sun chap. xlv.
and moon like Joshua, or call down thunder and hail like
Samuel, or fire and rain like Elijah, or make the sun turn
back like Isaiah, or let us hear the Bath Kol which came to
Simon the Just — that we may believe you."^^ « Eosemnuuer,

But Jesus knew the men with whom he had to do, and pStafl,ii.838.

would hold no communication with them beyond the shortest. iStfSot, '

-^ Hor. Heb.H.

The tempter had long before urged Him to make a vain dis- ^^ *"•
play of His supernatural power in support of His claims,
but as it was monstrous that miracles should be thrown
away on the Prince of Darkness, or wrought at his will, it
was no less so to work them at the bidding of men filled with
his spirit. The worth of proof depends on the openness to
conviction. He had already said that to cast pearls before
wild swine, was only to invite them to turn and rend
you. No " sign " could avail where there was no sympathy.
The truth He came to proclaim appealed to the heart, and
must be its own evidence, winning its way by its own divine
beauty into humble and ready breasts. External proofs could
only establish external facts.

With biting irony He turned on them in a few brief incisive
sentences. " How is it that ye, who are so skilled in the
signs of the heavens, are so dull to read those around you ?
You watch the sky, and talk of signs in it. In the evening
you say, ^ Fair weather, for the sky is red ; ' and in the
morning, * Foul weather to-day, for the sky ia red and lower-
ing.' When you see a cloud rising in the west, you say,
' There comes a shower ; ' when you see a south wind blow-
ing, you say, *There will be heat.'^^ You pretend to tell, by «• MattiA i-i.
the way the smoke blows on the last evening of the Feast of «*-*7.
Tabernacles, what weather there will be for the year. If it
turn northward, you say there will be much rain, and the
poor will rejoice ; if it turn south, you say the rich will
rejoice and the poor mourn, for there will be little rain ; if
it turn eastward, all rejoice; if westward, all niourn.^^ " ^^t^ ^^
If God have been so gracious to men as to give signs of fair ^^•
weather, of wind, and of rain, how much more must He have
given signs of the near approach of the Messiah ? You are
diligent to excess in studying the sky, but you ask signs of

230 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

cHAP.xLv. my being the Messiah, as if none had been given, when many
unmistakable ones invite you in your own Scriptures, in the
events of the day, the preaching of John, and in my own
*e nosen- miraclcs, teaching, and life.'*^ An evil and adulterous gene-
NewxiiJt L ration seeks after a sign of the approach of the kingdom of
***• God to suit it, while it is blind to the signs around, that the

Messiah must come, if the nation is not to perish. I will
give you no sign but that of the prophet Jonah, for as
the warning of his words, was the only one given to the
Ninevites, my preaching will be the only sign given to you.
It is its own evidence. Apart from my miracles; my life, and
the divine and heavenly truth I preach, are suf&cient proof
that I am sent by God. Hereafter, indeed, Jonah will
become a sign in another sense, for as he was three days and
three nights in the whale's belly, so I, when put to death,
shall be the same time in the grave."

So saying. He left them. It was clearly unsafe to stay in
their neighbourhood. Henceforth He could only lead a
fugitive outlawed life, and with a deep sigh at the hopeless-
ness of winning over men blinded by prejudice, and hardened
in heart. He entered the boat once more, and crossed the
Lake to the lonely and secure eastern side.

IN FLIGHT ONCE MORE. 231

CHAPTER XLVL

m FLIGHT ONCE MORE.

THE renewed attempt to involve Jesus in a dama^ng dis- oha> xlvi.
pute had failed. He had not made an ostentatious
display of supernatural power at the bidding of His enemies,
but had turned sharply on them, and had left them discom-
fited before the multitude. They had hoped to have de-
preciated Him as a mere unauthorized intruder into the
office of Rabbi, and to have had an easy triumph, but His
modest, yet dignified and keen retort had put them to
shame. Their bitterness against one, now hated and feared
more than ever, was so much the greater.

His departure that autumn evening might well have sad-
dened His heart. It was His final rejection on the very
spot where He had laboured most, and He was leaving it, to
return, indeed, for a passing visit, but never to appear again
publicly, or to teach, or work miracles. As the boat swept
out into the Lake, and the whole scene opened before Him
— ^the white beach, the green plain, the wooded hills behind,
the white houses reflected in the water, and over them the <

stately synagogue, in which He had taught so often, and
done such mighty acts,^ — ^it was no wonder that He sighed
deeply in spirit, borne down by the thought of the darkened
mind, the perverted conscience, and the stony heart that
had rejected the things of their peace.

As He sat in the boat amidst His disciples He was still
full of such thoughts. They had heard His words to His
enemies, but they did not seem to have realized all the
danger implied in the incident. Many had been led away
from Him by the deceitful slanders, or specious arguments

232 . THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

cHAP.xLVL of the hierarchical party, and it was well that they should be
put on their guard.

" Take heed, beware," said He solemnly, " of the leaven

« Matt. 16. 5-12. of the Pharisees and Sadducees, and of the party of Herod. "^
I*-"- It so happened, however, that in their hurried flight, having
had no time to lay in provisions, there was only one loaf in
the boat, and with the childishness of uneducated minds, they
at once fancied He referred to their having come without
bread. At the well of Samaria they had thought he referred
to common food when He spoke of the meat of the soul ;
they had been as dull in catching the metaphor of His flesh
being the bread of life, and heresdEler they were to think only
of natural rest when he spoke of the dead Lazarus as sleep-
ing. Reflection, like continuity of thought, comes only with
mental training. The uncultured mind, whether old or
young, learns slowly. They might have remembered from
the twice repeated miraculous feedings of the multitude,
that it was indifferent how little they had with them when
their Master was in their midst, but it needs a thoughtful -
ness and depth beyond that of average fishermen and pea-
sants, such as they were, to reason and reflect. "He teUs us,'
they whispered, " that if we buy bread from a Pharisee or
a Sadducee, the bread would defile us, as it would if we

V BoBenmuiier B bouffht it from a Samaritan. " ^ So rude was the spiritual

Scholia on ° •■■

New Teat. 1. material from which Jesus had to create the founders of
|J!-^^, Christianity !

syn. jad-401. j^ q ^^ of Uttlc faith," mtcrruptcd He, " why do ye reason
among yourselves because ye have no loaves? Are your
hearts hardened that you cannot understand ? Have you
forgotten when I broke the five loaves among the five
thousand, and the seven among the four thousand, how
many baskets and wallets full of fragments ye took up?
How could you think you would ever want after that, whe-
ther we had bread with us or not ? Do you not see that
when I spoke of loaves I was thinking not of loaves, but of
instruction ? Beware of the teaching of the Pharisees, Sad-
8 wieaeiwB ducccs, aud Herodians,^ about me or about religion. They
Q^jj^ would gladly fill your minds with slanders and misleading
Moses, «L fancies ; draw you away from me ; and corrupt your hearts

HBALmg OF A BUND MAN. 233

by their superstition, and religious acting, and self-righteous chap, xlvl
pride, or by their worldliness and unbelief."

The course of the boat was directed to the head of the
Lake, to Bethsaida, newly renamed Julias by the tetrarch
Philip, in honour of the daughter of Augustus, his patron.
The old name of the village had not yet been lost, however.
It was on the route to the district to which Jesus was
hurrying, and might well have detained Him as a resting
place, under other circumstances. Lying on the green hill
above the plain of Batiha — the scene of the miraculous
feeding — :it overlooked, at a short distance, the eAtrance of
the Jordan into the Lake. To the west stretched the wide
tract of black basalt, rough and barren, reaching from
the marshes of Jordan, dotted with buflfaloes luxuriating
in the mire, to Chorazin and Capernaum. To the south
rose the bare table-land on the east of the Lake, and the
town itself, boasting the splendid tomb just built by Philip,
for his own use, was not wanting in beauty.^ But Jesus * Thomeon,

, ' O •' , Land and

had no leisure to stay, nor was there an inducement in any ggg?/*^-
kindly bearing of the population towards Him. He had ^a-^^^^^e.
often taught in their streets and synagogue, and had lived
m their houses,^ and done many mighty works before them, • Lnkei8.M.

' ^ o J ^ Matt. la. 21.

yet, like the people of Chorazin and Capernaum, they had Marke.22-2a
listened to their Rabbis rather than to Him, and had re-
fused to repent. There still, however, were some who had
better thoughts, and these, seeing Him enter the town, hur-
riedly brought a blind man, and besought Him to touch
him. Even in a place that would not hear Him His tender
heart could not withhold its pity. It would have attracted
notice when He most sought to avoid it, had He healed the
suflFerer in the public street, and, therefore, taking him by
the hand, he led him into the fields outside. He might
have wrought the cure by a word, but He chose to use the
same simple form as in the case of the dumb man in the
Decapolis. Touching the blind eyes with His moistened
finger, perhaps to arrest the wandering thoughts and pre-
dispose him to trust in the Healer, He aaked the blind man
*'if he saw aught ? " The supernatural power of the touch had
had due effect. With upturned eyes, the hitherto blind could

234 THE MFB OP CHRIST.

CHAPXLYL see indistinctly. Men moved before Him, in undefined haze,
like trees.* The partial cure must have strengthened his
faith, and thus prepared him for perfect restoration. An-
» nikavyui. Other touch, and He could see clearly, far and near.^ " Go
to your home," said Jesus, " without returning to the town,
and tell no one about it." ^ The less publicity given to His
acts or words, the safer for Christ.

The retreat to which Jesus was making was the town of
Csssarea PhilippL It lay on the north-east of the reedy
and marshy plain of El Huleh. It was close to Dan, the
extreme north of the bounds of ancient Israel, as Beer-
sheba was the extreme south. It was almost on a line
with Tyre, and thus, far out of the reach of the Rabbis
and High Priests. A town, Baal-Gad — ^named from the
Canaanite god of fortune — had occupied the site from
immemorial antiquity, but Philip had rebuilt it splen-
didly, three years before Christ's birth, and, in accordance
with the prevailing flattery of the Emperor, had called
it Cajsarea, in honour of Augustus. It had been the
pleasure of his peaceful reign to adorn it with altars,
» Ant XT. 10. 8. votive images, and statues,^ and his own name had been
8; tfl. W.7. ' added by the people, to distinguish it from the CoBsarea on
Baiiiii,oi»p.8. the sea-coast.® Herod the Great, Philip's father, had already,
J^ojjaw- nineteen years before Christ, in grateful acknowledgement
of the gift of the districts of Panias and Ulatha, adorned
the spot with a grand temple of white marble, in heathen
flattery of the Emperor, deified, thus, while still alive, by
the king of the Jews. The worship of the shepherd god
Pan, to whom a cave out of which burst the waters of the
Jordan, Ava3 sacred ; had given its second name — Panias —
now, Banias — to the place. It was one of the loveliest spots
in the Holy Land, built on a terrace of rock, part of the
range of Hermon, which rose behind it seven or eight thou-
sand feet. Countless streams murmured down the slopes,
amidst a unique richness and variety of flower, and shrub,
and tree. The chief source of the Jordan, still bursts in a
full silver-clear stream from a bottomless depth of water, in
the old cave of Pan, at the foot of the mountain, from
beneath a high perpendicular wall of rock, adorned with

CJBSAREA PHILIPPI. 235

niches once filled with marble Naiads of the stream and qhap.xlti.
Satyrs of the woods ; and with countless votive tablets ; but
now strewn round with the ruins of the shepherd god's ancient
temple. Thick woods stiU shade the channel of the young
river. Oaks and olive groves alternate with pastures and
fields of grain, and high over aU rises the old castle of
Banias, perhaps the *' Tower of Lebanon that looketh towards
Damascus," of the song of Solomon.® » songaf sd

To this scene Jesus had now come, and might have found
in the charms of nature a balm for His tired and stricken heart,
had He been free to think of such outward charms. From
the hill on which the town stood — one of the lower spurs of
Hermon — ^the view ranged over all northern Palestine, from
the plains of Phenicia, to the hills of Samaria, In the
north-west rose the dark gigantic mountain forms of Leba-
non ; to the south stretched out the rich table-land of the
Hauran. From Hermon, not from Zion, or the Mount of
Olives, one beholds " the good land, the land of brooks, of
waters, of fountains, of depths that spring out of the valleys
and hills ; a land of wheat and barley, and vines, and fig-
trees, and pomegranates ; a land of oil olive and honey," ^^ w Dent 8.7 s.
Far and near the surpassingly fruitful landscape was watered
by sparkling brooks flowing into the main stream of Jordan,
here only twenty steps broad. So far back as the days of the
Judges, the children of Dan, wandering hither f5pom the south,
had found it to want nothing that earth could give. Wheat
fields alternated with fields of barley, maize, sesame, and rice,
olive orchards, meadows, and' flowery pastures, the delight
of countless bees ; and the slopes were covered with woods,
vocal with the songs of birds.

But even Jesus had few thoughts, at such a time, for such
natural charms. He was a fugitive and outlaw, rejected by
the nation He had come to save ; safe only because He was
outside the bounds of Israel, in a heathen region. It was
clear that His public work was virtually over, for even in
Galilee, where multitudes had followed Him, His popularity
had waned under the calumnies of the Rabbis, and His
steady refusal to sanction the popular conception of the
Messiah. From the moment they had seen that He sought

236 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

oHAP.xLvi. only spiritual aims, and was not a second Judas the Galilaean^
they had gone back to their own teachers, who favoured the
national views, and instead of demanding repentance and a
new life, recognized them as the favourites of Jehovah, and
the predestined heirs of the Messiah's Kingdom. The death
of the Baptist foretold His own fate. The crisis of His
life had come. If He had won few true followers, He had
securely founded the New Kingdom of God. It might indeed,
as yet, be but a seed in the great field of the world, or a
speck of leaven in the vast mass of humanity ; but the seed
would multiply itself to the ends of the earth, and the
leaven would slowly but surely spread, age after age, through
the whole race of man. His own death would now no longer
be fatal to the New Society ; the germ of its fullest develop-
ment would survive in the little circle of the Twelve, and of
the few other faithful souls who had received Him.

But it was necessary that the band to whom the spread of
His Kingdom after His death would be entrusted should be
confirmed in their faith, and enlightened by explicit dis-
closures of His relations to themselves and to it. There was
much, even in their humble and honest hearts, that needed
correction and elevation. They were Jews, trained in the
theology of His enemies, and still unconsciously influenced
by it to a great extent.

Jesus had utterly different conceptions of His kingdom
from theirs, and, therefore, had not, as yet, claimed the title
of Messiah in any formal way, even in the circle of the
Twelve, though He had never hesitated to accept homage,
as such, when it was offered. Once, to the Samaritan
woman, and once, by silent assent, to the Twelve, He had
assumed the awful dignity, and the whole spirit of His
teaching and life implied His claim to it. But, even to the
Twelve, there had been a reticence and caution, that He
might not anticipate the development of their religious
nature, and disclose a mystery they were, as yet, unable to
receive. Before the people at large He had never assumed
the Messiahship, for, with their gross political ideas, to have
done so would have been to bring Himself into collision
with the State at once. He had even, as far as possible,

JESUS, THE KING-MESSIAH. 237

kept His supernatural work in the background, shunning chap.xlvi
publicity as a worker of miracles, and leaving the progress
of His kingdom rather to the divine beauty of His teaching
and life. To have put Himself forward, from the first, as
the Messiah, would have closed at once all avenues of in-
fluence, for He was in every way the very opposite of the
national ideal. They expected their race to be exalted to
supreme honour and power. He sought to humble them to
the lowliest contrition. They expected that, under the
Messiah, the heathen would bow before Israel; He pro-
claimed that the heathen were to have equal rank and rights
with " the people of God." They expected that the tradi-
tions of the Rabbis, with their infinite observances, were to
be made the law for all countries and ages ; He announced
their utter abrogation, and the establishment of a new cove-
nant of filial liberty with men at large, in place of the old
covenant with a single people. They expected a sudden and
^dolent political convulsion, heralded by a disturbance of
the order of nature by unprecedented signs and wonders in
the heavens, and on earth, and of the history of nations. He
taught that the Messianic kingdom would be brought about
only by the silent might of words, and of the Spirit of God,
renewing all natural and moral relations of men, but only
by a slow and well-nigh imperceptible advance. Not only
the nation, but even the Twelve, had utterly to unlearn the
fixed ideas of the past, before a spiritual Messiahship could
be welcome to them. How difficult that was, is shown by
the request of Salome, the mother of James and John, after
the disciples had formally acknowledged their Leader as the
Messiah, that her two sons should sit in the high places of
honour, on the riffht and left of the Messianic throne.^^ " MMkio.8&

^ lUtt.80.20.

In the conscious divinity of His nature, Jesus had never
yet asked the Twelve any question respecting Himself, but
it was necessary, now that the end was approaching, that
they should know Him in His true dignity. He must re-
veal Himself definitely as the Messiah, and be formally
accepted as such. To have confined Himself, like John, to
the announcement of the kingdom of God as at hand, would
have left that kingdom incomplete, and have created

238 THE UFE OF CHBIST.

CHAP. xLvi. expectations of the future advent of some other as its Head.
Without a personal centre round which to gather, the work
of His life would have faded away with His death. He
Himself, in the deathless beauty of His life, and the infi-
nite attractiveness of His self-sacrificing death, must neces-
sarily be the abiding soul of the new Society through all
ages, for its fundamental principle, from the first, had been
personal love towards Him. His words. His whole life, His
voluntary humiliation; the transcendent self-restraint and
self-denial which had used unlimited supernatural power
only for others ; and had submitted to poverty, obscurity,
and opposition, erelong to culminate in the endurance of a
violent death for the good of mankind, raised Him to a
divine and perfect ideal of love and goodness, which, of
itself, proclaimed Him the King — ^that is, the Messiah — in
the new kingdom He had founded. " The love of Christ "
was to be the watchword of His followers in aU ages: the
sentiment that would nerve them to endure triumphantly
the bitterest persecutions, and even death : that would con-
strain them to life-long devotion to His cause ; in obedience
to His commands, and in imitation of His example. The
words of a future disciple, St. Paul, would be only the utter-
ance of all others worthy the name, in every age. " The
'« 2 Cor. 5. 14. love of Christ constraineth us."^^ With St. John, they
M ijohn4.i9. would "love Him because He first loved us."^^ He had
founded a kingdom, for the first and only time in history, on
personal love to the founder, and, as such. He must definitely
reveal Himself in His spiritual relation to it as, henceforth, its
recognized Messiah-King.

A crisis so momentous in the development of His great
work must have profoundly affected a nature, sensitive and
holy, like His. His whole life was an unbroken communion
with His Father in Heaven, but there were moments when
this passion of the soul appeared to grow more intense. His
human weakness, though unstained by evil, was fain to
strengthen itself by the near presence of His Father
above, with whom every beat of His thoughts moved in
undisturbed and awful harmony. In all His temptations,
He had ever betaken Himself to prayer, and, now, when

A CRISIS. 239

Israel had rejected Him, and there rose before Him only the chap.xlvi.
vision of the Cross ; when His kingdom, more clearly than
ever, was to go forth to conquer the world only from the
gates of His opened grave ; when He had, therefore, while
yet with them, to take His seat among those in whom that
kingdom had its first subjects, — ^as its Messiah-King — ^the
moment was one of unspeakable sublimity.

He had, thus, been absorbed in thought and separated
in fervent prayer, as they passed from town to town on His
northward journey, until at last they had reached the neigh-
bourhood of CsBsarea Philippi.^* There, He once more MM»tt.e.i8-2o.
went aside, in some lonely spot among the rich wooded Liike9*i8-2i!
valleys, for solitary prayer. Before He returned to the
Twelve, He had determined to delay no longer a full self-
revelation : to throw aside the veil, and openly assume the
Messiahship which had long been silently ascribed to Him in
His little circle, and as silently accepted, without a formal
and definite assumption.

" Whom do men say that I, the Son of Man, am? " sufficed
to introduce the momentous topic. The answer showed how
little He had been understood, and how utterly the fixed
national idea of a Messiah had darkened the general mind.
" Some say with Antipas, the spirit of John the Baptist has
entered Thee, and that Thou workest through it, or that
Thou art John himself, risen from the dead, and appearing
under another name ; some that Thou art Elias, who, like
Enoch, has never died, but was taken up bodily to heaven,
and has now returned in the body as Malachi predicted, to
prepare for the Messiah ; some that Thou art Jeremiah,
come to reveal the Ark and the sacred vessels which he hid
in Mount Nebo, and thus inaugurate the approaching reign
of the Messiah ; or one of the prophets, sent fi'om the other
world by God, as a herald of the Coming One."° They could
not add that any regarded Him as the Messiah. His refusal
to appeal to force, and head a political revolution, had
caused an almost universal repudiation of the thought.

Jesus expressed neither sorrow nor displeasure at such an
utter failure to recognize Him in His true character. He had
been the subject of the keenest interest and discussion, from

240 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

CHAP. xLvi. his felt relation to the Expected One, and thi^ of itself, pro-
mised a rich result, when His followers, after His departure,
directed the minds of men to a clearer conception of the
Messianic Kingdom. He Himself knew whom He was, and
was unaffected by any popular judgment. But He had now
to obtain from the lips of the Twelve themselves, — the special
witnesses of His life and daily words, — a higher confession,
which He knew they only needed a question from Him to
utter gladly. " But whom say ye that I am ?" Instantly
from the lips of Simon Peter, the impulsive, tender, loving,
rock-like disciple, came all that the full heart of His Master
waited to hear. "Thou, my Master and Lord," said he,
doubtless with beaming joy, " Thou art the Christ — Antah
Meschicha — the Son of the living God." Thus, in the out-
skirts of the heathen town dedicated to the deified Augustus,
Jesus was proclaimed, with no preparatory circumstance, in
the privacy of a small circle of Galilsean fishermen, as the
King of the Universal Israel : here, a fugitive whose only
earthly crown was to be the one of thorns, He assumed pub-
licly the empire of all the world, as the Messiah of God.

The greatness and significance of this confession of Peter's,
made in the name of the Twelve, cannot be exaggerated. It
was a striking advance towards realizing the great truth of
the Incarnation, and the clear intelligence would one day
foUow the open and ardent utterance of the heart. Hitherto
Jesus had revealed Himself chiefly as the " Son of Man,"
and " the Son of God ; " but He now received from those who
had been constantly with Him, as a faint acknowledgment of
the conviction wrought by His life, and words, and mighty
works, the formal inauguration as the Messiah-King of a
spiritual and deathless empire. Nathanael had anticipated

w John 1.50. the great confession, indeed, at the opening of His ministry,^^
and the disciples had recognized Him as the Son of God, on
that wild night when they found that the form walking on
the waves was not the spirit of the storm, but their loving
Master, and when the very winds and waves were seen to

M Matt. 14. 83. obey Him.^^ But the time was not then ripe for His definite
installation as Messiah, and the incidents passed off. Simon,
also, had cheered His troubled soul, when the great secession

EULOGY ON PETER. 241

of the disciples took place at Capernaum, ^^ by an anticipation ohap^vi.
of His confession at Csesarea Philippi, but He had waived it, " '""^ ®- •••
as it were, aside. Now, however. He formally accepted what,
hitherto, He had silently allowed ; for the hour had come.

" Blessed art Thou, Simon Barjona," said He; " Flesh and
blood hath not revealed this to you, for you have not learned
it from my lowly outward form, and it has come to you from
no human teaching; My Father in Heaven has thought
you worthy to have it revealed to you." It was, indeed, an
amazing utterance. The Twelve had been the daily witnesses
of the human simplicity and poverty of His life. His home-
lessness, His weary wanderings afoot, and all the circum-
stances of His constant humiliation, which might have
counterbalanced the great memories which their privileged
intimacy had afforded, and obscured their spiritual signifi-
cance. These last months had, moreover, surrounded Him
with all the depreciations of a fugitive life. Yet they had
broken through the hereditary national prejudice of their race,
with whom tradition and absolute uniformity in religious
things had an inconceivable power, — ^they had disregarded
the judgment of their spiritual rulers and leaders; risen above
the utmost ideas of those around; and had seen, in their lowly
rejected Master, the true Lord of the new kingdom of God.
Nor is the fact less wonderful that the life and words of
Jesus, seen thus closely, should have created such a lofty
and holy conception of His spiritual greatness, amidst all the
counteractions of outward fact and daily familiarity. In
spite of all, He was the Malka Meschicha — ^the King-Mesaah
— to those who had known Him best.

The ardent, immovable devotion of Peter, the first to
own his Master as Messiah, as He had been first in all other
utterances of trust and reverence, won for itself an illustrious
tribute from Jesus. The weary, sad heart, that had so much
to grieve it, had been fiUed for the time with a pure and
kingly joy at the proof thus given, that, at last, a true and
solid beginning had been made. He had, doubtless, long
yearned for a time when the Twelve would be advanced
enough in spiritual things to let Him disclose His utmost
thoughts and ultimate designs, and this time had now come.
VOL. n. 55

242 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

CHAP. xLvi. He had never yet spoken of the future government or organ-
ization of the New Kingdom, as a visible communion, and
did not propose to lay down any detailed laws even now.
He hastened to tell Peter, however, that this society, — His
Church^ or congregation, "called out" from the world at large,
would be entrusted, after His decease, to him. As buildings
in the coimtry around were founded on a rock, that the
floods and storms might not overthrow them, so it would be
raised on the rock-like fidelity shown by him in his great
confession.

Turning to him, He continued, " I have something to say
that concerns thee. Thou art to me, as when I first saw you, —
Petros; — the rock (petra) which I will make the founda-
tion stone, when my Church, in which my followers will be
enrolled, is to be built. In its building you will do me the
greatest service, like the stone on which all others rest, itself
resting on the firm rock beneath — which is Myself. On you
and such rock-like souk, it will rise, but on you first ; and the
gates of death will be powerless against it, for it shall outlive
the grave and reach on into eternity. Unopening though
the gates of the grave be, they shall open wide to let forth
my followers to the resurrection of the jiffet, nor shall the
powers of evil be able to overturn the new society thus
gathered. I have called you the rock on which I shall raise
my Church® — I call you also the steward, to whom the charge
of it is entrusted. As such I shall give you, after my ascent

" seeinkh to hcavcn, the keys of it,^® to admit such as you think
Qitota,i.iK. worthy, both Jews and heathen, and to shut out those whom
you think unfit. I commit to you, moreover, the govern-
ment and discipline of its membership : whatever you forbid
as unbecoming my kingdom, or as imfitting for membership
in it, shall be as if forbidden by me, myself, in heaven ,
and whatever you permit, as not contrary to its welfare,
or not excluding from it, shall be as if I, myself, per-
mitted it, from above. It will be left to your decision, which
will be recognized before God, what may be forbidden, as a
hindrance to entry into my Church on earth, or unworthy of it;
and what may be permitted, as not barring from its member-
ship."' How Peter exercised this honour in the Apostolic

CALL TO JERUSALEM. 243

Church was hereafter to be seen, when he rose as spokesman chap, xlvl
of the eleven in the election of a twelfth :^^ when he spoke " ^m/sVJm;
for them on the Day of Pentecost, before the multitude, J:J;w?fi.i,

and by his constant mention as chief and foremost of the io.'«;*ii.'2;

^ 12. 6, Ac^ Ao.

Apostles. Jesus was almost immediately to extend the same
dignity and authority to the whole of the Twelve, 2<> but «• Matt. is. is.
Peter had lust precedence in recoffnition of his worth and Apoetouc*^*
character. Ihe figments of Roman creation, by which, from
this tribute to his love and enthusiasm, a vast structure of
priestly arrogance and usurpation has been raised, need no
notice in this place.

The New Society was at last formally constituted, and
provision made for its government and continuance after its
founder s death. Henceforth, He moved in the circle of the
Twelve as the recognized Messiah of whom they were the
future designated heralds.

But the approaching end of the great drama could not be
left untold. Jerusalem was the one spot in which alone the
work of Jesus could be completed. Galilee had been only
the place of preparation. The Temple and its ministering
priests, the Rabbis and the schools, were in the Holy City.
David had reigned there, and there must the Messiah be
declared, to vindicate the honour of God, and proclaim the
new spiritual theocracy in the centre of the religious world.
His work in Galilee was virtually over, for though not
finished, it was hopelessly paralyzed and checked. He might
return, but it would avail nothing against the conspiracy
that everywhere faced Him. But in Jerusalem His work
was both to begin and to complete. He must go to the
Capital, for Galilee was in great measure closed against
Him. He had assumed the Messiahship, and he must needs
proclaim it openly before His enemies in their stronghold.
He knew that only death awaited Him, but that death had
been foreseen in the eternal counsels of God as the mys-
terious atonement for the sins of the world.

It would have been premature to have spread abroad the
momentous incident of the ascription and formal accept-
ance of the title of Messiah. The Twelve must needs know
the great truth, but the multitude must, lor a time, be left

244 THE LIFE OF CHBIST.

OHAP.XLVL to their own fancies. He was to be preached as a crucified
and risen Saviour, not as a Jewish Messiah, and this could
not be till the end had come. Nor did the Twelve as yet under-
stand the divine plan of salvation clearly enough, and the
Jews, moreover, might have taken advantage of the preach-
ing for seditious movements. So imperative was temporary
secrecy, indeed, that He gave the strictest injunctions that
no man should be told what had happened.

The idea of a sufifering Messiah was, however, so wholly
foreign to all prevailing conceptions, that it was indispensable
that the catastrophe at Jerusalem, foreseen by Jesus from
the first, but now near at hand, should be made fiuniliar to
the Twelve, as part of the all- wise purpose of God in the
development of the new spiritual kingdom. It has been a
disputed point whether any of the Rabbis of Christ's day
had thought of the Messiah as destined to suffer and die.^
Beyond question some had applied to Him the passages of
Isaiah, which speak of the servant of God as wounded for
our transgressions, but it is equally certain that the idea had
not only found no general acceptance, but was entirely
opposed to the feeling of the nation. From this time, there-
fore, Jesus began systematically to prepare the Twelve for
His approaching violent death, returning to the sad topic
at every opportunity ; that a truth, so disagreeable and so
contrary to their life-long ideas, might gradually become
familiar to them; and that they might come to feel that
it was in accordance with the divine plan of His kingdom.
He had spoken of it before, but now threw aside all vague-
ness, and impressed it on them with the utmost distinctness ;
doubtless, explaining from their own Scriptures, as He did
afterwards to the disciples at Emmaus, how " it was necessary
that Christ should suffer these things, and then enter into

« Lake M. 86. His fflorv."^^ To rcvolutionizc fixed belief is never easy,

Mattl6.21— 38. .

Mark 8. 81-418; for the will has to be persuaded as well as the understand-

Luke9.«-27. jj^g Hitherto, their minds had not been prepared for such

a shock, and even yet, as we shall often see, they were very

slow to give up their preconceptions, and realize what seemed

so contradictory.

It was impossible, however, to mistake the warnings of

A NEW TEMPTATION. 245

their Master, however hard it might be to reconcile them oharxlvi
with their own ideas. "He must go to Jerusalem," He
said, "and suffer many things of the elders, and chief
priests, and scribes, and be killed, and after three days, rise
again." But so far were the Twelve from comprehending
such an announcement, that Peter, too impulsive to wait for
an opportunity of telling how much it distressed him, could
not restrain his feelings. True to his character, he forth-
with took Him by the hand, and led Him aside, to remon-
strate with Him, and dissuade Him from a journey which
would have such resulta " God keep this evil far from
Thee, my Lord and Master,"^ said he. " You must not let
such things happen. They will utterly ruin the prospects
of your kingdom, for they match ill with the dignity of the
Messiah. If there be any danger such as you fear, why not
use your supernatural power to preserve yourself and us.
It is not to be endured that you should suffer such in-
dignities." It was the very same temptation as the arch
enemy had set before Him in the wilderness: to employ
His divine power for His own advantage, instead of using it,
with absolute self-surrender, only to carry out the will of
His Father. But, as ever before, it was instantly repelled.
His quick, stern answer must have made Peter recoil afraid.
" Get thee behind me," said He, " out of my sight, thou
tempter ; thou art laying a snare for me ; thy words shew
that in these things thou enterest not into the thoughts and
plans of God, but considerest all things only from the ideas of
men, with their dreams of ambition and human advantage."
Peter still fancied that Jesus would be an earthly monarch,
and that the proper course to take, imder the circumstances,
was to oppose force with force. He had yet to learn that
the kingdom of His Master was to be established by suffering
and self-demal.

It was a moment unspeakably solemn. Even the few
faithful ones, and their very Coryphaeus, — ^their leader and
mouthpiece — ^while hailing Jesus as the Messiah, clung to
the old national ideas, and could not reconcile them with
His suffering and dying. He had rebuked the temptation
which appealed to Him as a man, so strongly, to take the

246 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

OHAP.XLVL ease and glory which invited Him, and to abandon the path
of sorrow and lowliness, which might be the spiritual life of
the worid, but was His own humiliation and martyrdom.
It had been driven away from His stainless soul, like dark-
ness from the sun, but its power in the minds even of the
Twelve, was only too clear. The truth, in all its repug-
nancy, must be forced on them more clearly than ever, that
they might no longer continue with Him if it offended them ;
for He would receive none as His disciples who did not
• cheerfully embrace a life of self-denial and absolute devo-
tion, even to the sacrifice of life, for His sake ; with no
prospect whatever of earthly reward. Nor would He even
accept any one willing, from a mercenary spirit, to suffer here
that He might receive a reward hereafter ; for though such
a reward was promised to those who were faithful to the end,
absolute sincerity was required in His service. It must be the
grateful, spontaneous expression of true love and devotion.

Even in such an outlying district as that of Ciesarea
Philippi, numbers of the population — ^for there were many
Jews in the region — ^had gathered to hear and see him, and
were near at hand at the moment. The test required of the
Twelve was no less imperative for these : the " floor " must
be thoroughly " fanned and cleansed " from all self-decep-
tion or designed hypocrisy.

Without giving Peter time, therefore, to excuse himself,
and leaving him to the shame of his reproof, Jesus called
the people and the Twelve round Him, and continued the
subject on which He had begun to speak.

" I must needs suffer," said He, " before I enter into my
glory, but so must all who would be my followers. If any
man propose to be my disciple, he must literally follow me
in my path of humiliation and sorrow. Whatever would
hinder absolute devotion and self-sacrifice must be given up.
He must make Me his one aim. All that stands in the way
of undivided loyalty to Me — the love of ease, of pleasure,
and even of life — must be surrendered. The hopes and
prospects which engage other men must be abandoned, and
in their stead he must daily take up the sufferings and self-
denials which come on him for my sake, and bear them as a

CHRIST SPEAKS TO THE PEOPLE. 247

man condemned to death bears the cross on which he is to ohap.xlvt
die. I have set, and shall set him the example I require
him to follow. Any one who thinks he can be my disciple,
and enter into my kingdom hereafter, and yet bear himself
so in this evil time as to escape suffering and enjoy life and
its comforts, deceives himself. If he seek this life by deny-
ing my name, as he must needs do in this age to escape
persecution, he will lose life eternal. But he who is
willing, for my sake, to sacrifice his natural desire for plea-
sure and ease, and even to give up life itself, if required, for
my name, vnH receive everlasting life when I come in my
kingdom. Hard though this seem, it is the wisest and best
thing you can do to comply heartily with it. What has a
man in the end if, by denying me for his worldly interests,
he gain even the whole world, and lose that life which alone
is worthy the name ? Unprepared for the eternal life of my
kingdom, and without a share in it ; with his breath he loses
not only all that he has, but himself as well. What gain
here will repay him for the loss of the life hereafter ?

" I say this on good grounds, and with absolute truth.
For, though now only a man like yourselves, I shall one
day return in a very different form, with the majesty of my
Father in heaven, and accompanied by legions of angels, to
recompense every one according to his works. In that day
each true disciple will be rewarded according to his loving
devotion and self-sacrifice for my sake, and will be received
by me, as the Messiah, into my kingdom. But I shall be
ashamed of any one, and count him unfit to enter that
kingdom, who for love of life and ease, or for fear of man,
or from shame of my present lowly estate, or of my cross,
has wanted courage and heart to confess me openly, and
separate himself, in my name, from this sinful generation.
It may be hard for you to think, as you see me standing
here before you, that I shaU one day come in heavenly
majesty ; but that you may know how surely it will be so, I
shall grant to some of you, now present, a glimpse of this
majesty, not after my death, but while I am still with you,
that they may see me, the Son of Man, in the glory in which
I will come when I return to enter on my kingdom."

248 THE HUB or chbist.

CHAPTER XLVIL

THE TRANSFIGUKATION.

cHAP^vn. TESTIS had now utterly broken with the past.^ Hitherto

' ttSJSSfS^!- ^ He had been slowly educating the Twelve to right con-

wim". ceptions of Himself and His sreat work, and in doins: so

Ewiud. T. 460l o / o

iS'ff dSI ^^ ^^^ *^ oppose their stubborn prejudice, enlighten theii

iiw^ **^ ignorance, illustrate His meaning by significant acts, resist

£^^B the sophistry and superficial literalism of the Rabbis, and

l^^^to'B ^^^ *^^ ^^y *^ ^ higher spiritual ideal and life by His own

w^TfeJt daily example and words. They had now been in His

M«^, in loe^ society, however, for over two years, and, at last, had risen

to a more just estimate of His dignity and of the nature of

His work. He was henceforth free from the anxiety which

had been inevitable so long as nothing had been definitely

accomplished towards the perpetuity of His kingdom ; for

the confession of Peter, in the name of his brethren, was the

assurance that that kingdom would outlive His own death,

and spread ever more widely through an unending future.

The joy of victory filled His soul, though the cross lay in

the immediate future. Henceforth He bore Himself as soon

to leave the circle with whom He had dwelt so long ; now,

preparing them for His humiliation by showing its divine

necessity ; now, uttering His deepest thoughts on the things

of His kingdom ; now, kindling their hearts by visu ns of

the joy that would spread over all nations through the

Gospel they were to preach. The future alone filled His

heart and mind.

His gladness of soul at Peter's confession had, like all
human raptures, been tempered by shadow. He had read
the hearts of the Twelve, and saw that, though they had
approached the truth in their conception of the Messiah,

WITH THE TWELVE. 249

they were still Jews, in linking with it the expectation of an chap^til
earthly political kingdom, with its ambitions and human
satisfactions. They had risen above the difficulties that
blinded the nation; — ^the thought of Nazareth — Galilee —
human relationship — lowly position — human wants — ^rejec-
tion by the Rabbis — ^familiar intercourse with the " unclean'*
multitude, and much beside, that had been a stumbling-
block to others ; but it was hard for them, in the presence
of one who, to outward appearance, was a man like them-
selves, to realize that He was the only-begotten Son of God,
and, like His Father, divine.

The announcement that He was to enter into His glory as
Messiah, by suflTering shame and death, not only shocked all
their preconceptions; they could not understand it, and
were sorely discouraged. They needed to be cheered in
their despondency, and led gradually to accept the dis-
closure of His approaching humiliation. His promise that
some of them, before their death, should see His kingdom
come with power, was doubtless treasured in their hearts ;
but they little thought its fulfilment was so near.

Six days passed ;2 or eight, including the first and last :• Mati 17. 1-13.
days full, doubtless, of sad and grave, as well as joyous, Luke9.*28-8«.
thoughts : sad that their Master spoke of suffering violence,
and death : grave that He should not only have dashed all
their hopes of a national regeneration, but should have
painted their own future in colours so sombre ; yet joyous,
amidst aU, in vague anticipations of the predicted spiritual
glory of the New Kingdom, of which they were to be heralds.
Little by little they would be sure to catch more of His
spirit, from daily intercourse with Him, and learn imper-
ceptibly how the purest joy and the noblest glory come
from self-sacrificing love ; how, in the highest sense, it is
more blessed to give than to receive. We are told nothing
of this sacred interval, but may well conjecture how it
passed.

The scene of the Transfiguration, like that of nearly all
other incidents in the life of our Lord, is not minutely
stated. St. Luke, indeed, calls it " The Mountain," but gives
it no closer name. It seems, however, certain, that the

250 THE lilFB OF CHRIST.

cEJJf.TLYu. tradition which f5pom the days of St. Jerome ^ has pointed to

' Toi£?r*^' Mount Tabor as the locality, is incorrect. The summit of

viSrtptumtm that hill — an irregular platform, embracing a circuit of half

▼i. ' ^ ^ an hour's walk, was apparently from the earliest ages fortified,

and Josephus mentions, about a.d. 60, that he strengthened

the defences of s^ city built on it. Picturesque, therefore,

though the hill looks, as the traveller approaches it over the

wide Plain of Esdraelon, it could not have been the spot

where Jesus revealed His glory, for it could not offer the

seclusion and isolation indicated in the gospels. Nor is

there any reason to think that the Twelve and their Master

* ch- 9.W. \^^^ i^fij tjjg neighbourhood of Ca^sarea Philippi, for St. Mark*

expressly mentions that they did not start for Gralilee till at

least the day after.

It was, doubtless, therefore, on one of the spurs of Her-
mon, "the lofty mountain," near which He then found
Himself, that the Transfiguration took place. Brought up
among the hills, such a region ; with distant summits, white
in spots with snow, even in summer ; its pure air ; and the
solitude of woody slopes and shady valleys, must have breathed
an ethereal calm and deep peaceful joy, seldom felt amidst
the abodes of men, on the wearied and troubled spirit of our
Lord,

Taking the three of His little band most closely in
sympathy with Him, and most able to receive the disclosures
that might be made to them. He ascended into the hills
towards evening, for silent prayer. The favoured friends
were Peter — ^the rock-like — His host at Capernaum from the
first ; and the two Sons of Thunder, John and James ; loved
disciples both, but John, the younger, nearest his Master's
heart of all the Twelve, as most like Himself in spirit. They
had been singled out, already, for similar especial honour,
for they only had entered the death-chamber in the house of
Jairus, and they were, hereafter, to be the only witnesses of
the awful sorrow of Gethsemane.

Evening feU while Jesus poured out His soul in high com-
munion with His Father, and the three, having finished their
nightly devotions, had wrapped themselves in their abbas
and lain down on the grass, to sleep till called. Meanwhile

THE TRANSFIGURATIOK. 251

their Master continued in prayer, His whole soul filled with ohap. xlvii
the crisis so fast approaching. He had taken the three with
Him, to overcome their dread of His death and repugnance
to the thought of it, as unbefitting the Messiah ; to strengthen
them to bear the sight of His humiliation hereafter ; and to
give them an earnest of the glory into which He would enter
when He left them, and thus teach them that, though unseen,
He was, more than ever, mighty to help. He was about to
receive a solemn consecration for the cross, but, with it, a
strong support to His soul in the prospect of such a death.
He was a man like ourselves, and His nature, now in its high
prime, and delighting in life, must have shrunk from the
thought of dying. The prolonged agony and shame of a
death so painful and ignominious, must have clouded His
spirit at times ; but, above all, who can conceive the moral
suffering that must have lain in the thought that, though
the Holy One, He was to be made an offering for sin ; that,
though filled with unutterable love to His people. He was to
die at their hands as their enemy; that, though innocent
and stainless, He was to suffer as a criminal ; that, though
the beloved Son of God, He was to be condemned as a
blasphemer ? As He continued praying. His soul rose above
all earthly sorrows. Drawn forth by the nearness of His
Heavenly Father, the divinity within shone through the veil-
ing flesh till His raiment kindled to the dazzling brightness
of light, or of the glittering snow on the peaks above Him,
and His face glowed with a sunlike majesty. Amidst
such an effulgence it was impossible the three could sleep.
Roused by the splendour, they gazed, awe-struck, at the
wonder, when lo ! two human forms, in glory like that of the
angels, stood by His side — Moses* and Elijah — ^the founder,
and the great defender of the Old Dispensation, which He had
come at once to supersede and to fulfil. Their presence from
the upper world was a symbol that the Law and the Prophets
henceforth gave place to a higher Dispensation ; but they had
also another mission. They had passed through death, or
at least, from life, and knew the triumph that lay beyond
mortality to the faithful servants of God. Who could speak
to Him as they of His decease, which He should accomplish

252 THE LIFE OF CHBIST,

CHAP. xLviL at Jerusalem, and temper the gloom of its anticipation?
Their presence spoke of the grave conquered, and of the
eternal glory beyond. The empty tomb under Mount
Abarim, and the horses and chariot of Elijah, dispelled all
fears of the future, and instantly banished all human

» BaBkin'8 Mod. wcakucss.^ That His Eternal Father should have honoured
»»• and cheered Him by such an embassy at such a time, ^rt

His soul to the joyful acceptance of the awful task of re-
demption. Human agitation and spiritual conflict passed
away, to return no more in their bitterness till the night
before Calvary. His whole nature rose to the height of His
great enterprise. Henceforth His one thought was to finish
the work His Father had given Him to do.

Meanwhile, the three Apostles, dazzled, confused, and lost
in wonder, gazed silently on the amazing sight, and "listened.
But it is not given to earth to have more than brief glimpses
of heaven. Moses and Elijah had erelong finished their
mission, and were about to return to the presence of God.
Could they not be induced to stay awhile ? Peter, ever first
to speak, and hardly knowing, in his confusion, what he said,
would at least try to prolong such an interview. " Master,"
said he, to amplify his words, " it is good for us to be here ;
let us gather some branches from the slopes around, and put
up three booths, like those of the Feast of Tabernacles ; one
for Thee, one for Moses, and one for Elijah." The cares and
troubles of his wandering life, and all his gloomy forebodings
for his Master and himself, had faded away before such
brightness and joy, and, in his fond child-like simplicity, he
dreamed of lengthening out the delight.

The Almighty had come down of old, to Mount Sinai, in
blackness, and darkness, and tempest; but now, a bright
cloud descended from the clear sky, like that from which He
had of old spoken to Moses at the door of the Tabernacle,
and overshadowed Jesus and the two heavenly visitors, fill-
ing the three Apostles with fear, as they saw it spread round
and over their Master, and those with Him. It was the
symbol of the presence of God, for He, also, had drawn nigh
to bear witness to His Eternal Son. It was not enough that
Moses and Elijah had honoured Him — a voice from the

MOSES AND ELIAS. 253

midst of the cloud added a still higher testimony — " This is ch&p.xlvil
my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased ; hear ye Him." '^
Such a confirmation of the great confession of Peter was
never to be forgotten. Almost a generation later, when he
wrote his second Epistle, the remembrance of this night was
as vivid as ever. "We were eye-witnesses," says he, "of His
Majesty. For He received from God the Father honour and
glory, when there came such a voice to Him from the excel-
lent glory, * This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well
pleased ; hear ye Him.' And this voice which came from
heaven, we heard, when we were with Him in the holy
mount."^ The brightness of a vision so amazing lingered in*apeteri.iT,i8
the memory of those who beheld it to the latest day of their
lives.

Sore afraid, the three fell on their faces, for who could
stand before God ? But the Voice had come and gone, and,
with it, the Cloud and the visitors from the eternal world ;
and Jesus was once more alone. Calming their fears by a
gentle touch. He bade them " arise and not be afraid," and
they found themselves once more alone. Master and followers,
with the stars over them, and the silent hills around. The
divine glory had feded from His countenance, and His robes
were once more like their own, but they could never forget
in what Majesty they had seen Him , never forget, in His
humiliation, that they had heard Him called " the beloved
Son," by the lips of the Eternal Himself; nor could they ever
hesitate whom to obey T\'hen they had seen Moses and Elias —
representatives of the Law and the Prophets — ^withdraw
before Him, and had heard Him proclaimed from the Cloud
of the Presence as far higher than they. God Himself had
said, in express words, or m effect, " He who is now with
you alone, whose heavenly dignity you have seen. He whom
you daily see in His wonted lowliness, is the same, even in
this humiliation, as when in the bosom of the Father — ' My
Son, who pleases me always.' Henceforth receive the Law
from His lips alone ; henceforth, let all men hear Him only ;
He is the Living Voice of the unseen God."^

It was now morning, and the nine were awaiting the return
of their Master and His friends. What the conversation was

254 THE LIFE OF CHRIST,

CHAP. xLviL between Jesus and the three, as they descended from the moun-
tain, is not told us. There was, once more, freedom to speak,
though, doubtless, they did so with a strange reverence, hardly
venturing to talk of what they had seen and heard. Nor could
they relieve their minds by telling the wonders of the night
to the others 'of the Twelve, for even they were so little
prepared for such disclosures, that Jesus commanded that
the vision should be told " to no man, till the Son of Man
be risen from the dead."

It illustrates the difficulty Jesus had to overcome, before
new religious ideas could be familiarized to the minds even
of those under His continuous teaching, that, though the
three had often heard of the resurrection of the dead

» John 2. 19. directly or indirectly from Jesus Himself/ they were at a
loss to know what the words meant, as He now used them,
and disputed among themselves about them. He had told
the Jews that if they destroyed the Temple of His body, He
should raise it again the third day ; and only a week before
the Transfiguration, on the day of Peter s memorable utter-
ance, He had used almost the very words which perplexed
them now. But though thrice repeated, they were still dark
and mysterious.

The resurrection from the dead was, indeed, an article of
the current Jewish theology, but it was so taught by the
Rabbis, that the three found it hard to reconcile their pre-
vious ideas with the language of Jesus. They had heard
from some of the preachers in the synagogues, that Israel

• Eiwninenger, alouc would rise : ® from othcrs, that the resurrection would

U. 904—907.

•> E^nenmeng^, iucludc ffodly hcatheu also,^ who had kept the seven com-

11 908 cj */ / X

mands given to the sons of Noah ; from some, that all the
heathen outside the holy land would be raised, but only to

'« Eigemnenger, shamc aud cvcrlasting contempt before Israel ; ^^ while stiU
others maintained, that neither the Samaritans, nor the great
mass of their own nation, who did not observe the precepts

11 EiBenmwger, of the Rabbis, would have part in the resurrection.^^ But

. 916, 16. j^ there was confusion as to who should rise again, there was

still more contradiction between what they had always

heard before, of the occasion and time of the resurrection ;

and the words that had fallen from Jesus. They had been

THE EESURRECTION. 255

trained to believe that all Israel would be gathered from the c?hap.xlvil
four quarters of the earth at the coming of the Messiah,
and that the dead would be raised immediately after. ^^ But » Eiaenmenger,
before this resurrection, which would thus inaugurate the
reign of the Messiah, Elias was first to come, and they still
clung to this idea, in spite of all that Jesus had said^® to " Matt. ii. u.
remove it. They had always, moreover, heard the syna-
gogue preachers say that the holy dead, when, thus raised,
were to take part in the kingdom of the Messiah, at
Jerusalem, and once more become fellow-citizens with the
living.

At the mention of the resurrection, therefore, the thought
instantly rose in their minds, how it could take place when
Elias had not yet appeared, and how Jesus could speak of
Himself alone as rising from the grave, and that on the
third day. It was clear there must be some contradiction
between His words and what they had always been taught.
What could He mean by this rising from the dead ? Only
He could answer. To solve the point they asked Him, " How
is it our Rabbis say that Elias must come before the dead
shall be raised — that is, before the opening of the reign of
the Messiah, which the resurrection is to announce ? You
speak of yourself rising, alone, from the dead, and that on
the third day, and say nothing about this reappearance of
Elias, which our Rabbis say is to be three days before the
coming of the Messiah.^* Is it wrong when they tell us i* Eiaenmenger,
that he will stand and weep and lament on the hills of S?»'i'^'**-

-*' 227. LMlgeD,

Israel, over the desolate and forsaken land; till his voice is SSoS?, sei.
heard through the world, and that he will then cry to the
mountains, " Peace and blessing come into the world, peace
and blessing come into the world I" — "Salvation cometh,
salvation cometh !"^^ and gather all the scattered sons of w HsMimenger,
Jacob, and restore all things in Israel as in ancient times ?
They say that Elias will turn the hearts of all Israel to
receive the Messiah gladly ; how is this to be reconciled with
your saying that the Messiah must suffer many things of the
high priests and rulers, and be rejected and put to death ? "

'^You are right,'' replied Jesus, "when you say that
Elias must come before me, the Messiah. The puipose of

256 THE UFB OF CHRIST.

oHAP.xLvn. God, and ancient prophecy require it. But, as I, the Son of
Man, now when I have come, have to suffer many things,
and be set at nought and rejected, as the prophets have fore-
told, although I have given so many proofs of my heavenly
mission ; so has it already happened with Him who was the
Elias sent by my Father to prepare my way. He, like
myself, has already come, but they knew him as little as
they have known Me, and they have done to him as
their hearts wished. He has suffered even to death, as I, the
Messiah, must also suffer." Words so precise could not
be misunderstood. They saw that He spoke of John the
!• liftttiT. Baptist.^^
LiJbT?' ^^^ moments of exaltation and rapture are only passing,

^'^' and are often thrown into vivid contrast by the shadows
that constantly linger beside the light. Jesus had left the
other disciples at the foot of the mountain when He ascended
it with Peter and the sons of Zebedee. The night, with
its wondrous vision, had passed away, and He was now
returning to His little band, who waited for Him in a
neighbouring hamlet or village. The Jewish population
scattered round Ca^sarea Philippi had already heard of His
arrival in their parts, and from various motives had gathered
to see and hear Him. Hence no sooner was He noticed
descending the slopes, than the whole multitude moved in
His direction to meet Him. His sudden appearance was
opportune. An incident had just taken place, which was
still exciting no little dispute between some scribes and the
disciples. A Jew in the crowd had a son — his only child —
who had been afflicted from birth with the form of demoniac
possession shown by epilepsy, joined with madness and want
of speech. He had brought him in the hope that Jesus
would heal him, and the disciples, who had often before
wrought similar miracles when sent on tours through the
country, had tried, in His absence, to heal the boy, and
had failed. It was, indeed, a special case, for the lad was
subject to violent convulsions, in which he foamed at the
mouth, and gnashed with his teeth, and these had often en-
dangered his life, by coming on him at times when he would
have been drowned or burned had not help been near. His

WANT OF STRONG FAITH. 257

whole body, moreover, was withering away under their cjhap. xltil
influence.

The failure of the disciples had, apparently, been connected
with the excitement and agitations of the last week. Peter's
confession in their name that they believed their Master to
be the Messiah, had been sadly overcast by the shock to all
their previous ideas given by His repeated intimations of
His approaching violent death, and that a similar fate might
overtake themselves. It had been a week of spiritual
struggle, which Jesus designedly left them to undergo,
though He knew, throughout, that one of them would yield
to the trial. The nearer the time came for the journey to
Judea of which He had spoken, and the less they could
conceal from themselves that their devotion to Him was
perilous to themselves, the more troubled and faltering grew
their minds, and this inevitably affected them in all their
relations. In such a hesitating and half-dispirited frame,
they had no such triumphant faith as when they had gone
out on their first independent apostolic mission and diseases
and evil spirits yielded to their commands, in their Leader's
name. Hence, they had the mortification not only of failing
to work a cure, but of having to bear the cavils and sneers of
the Rabbis, who were only too glad to seize a momentary
triumph at their expense.

Meanwhile, the crowd showed Jesus all outward respect
The report of His wonderful deeds elsewhere had raised an
excitement that was visible on every face. They greeted and
welcomed Him, and were impatient to hear what He should
say in this matter between His followers and their own
doctors.

Turning to these, now in the flush of victory, Jesus dis-
concerted them by the simple demand to know the matter
in dispute. But though they had been bold enough before
the simple disciples, they were silent in the commanding
presence of their Master.

Presently, the father of the unfortunate boy pressed
through the crowd, catching fresh hope that the Teacher
could, perhaps, do what the disciples could not. Kneel-
ing before Him, he told all that had happened : how the

VOL. n. 56

258 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

•

oiup.xLTiL disciples had been willing to help, but had failed. The whole
story kindled Christ's sad indignation. He had been long
with both disciples and people, and after all His mighty acts
and unwearied teaching, the former had at best a dark and
wavering faith, and the latter w^e ready to reject Him
entirely. " 0 faithless and perverse generation," cried He,
* * have ye, then, no faith at all ? Must I be always present with
you? Are all the proofs you have had of my help, when
absent from you in body, forgotten ? Have not I given you
power over demons, and to cure diseases, and promised to be
with you, that you might do such wonders ? How could you
show such want of faith as to doubt my promises, and think
anything too difficult either to attempt or do, whether I am
present with you or not ? Will you never conquer your
unbelief? How long shall I suffer you ? Where is the boy?
Bring him to me."

The boy was brought at once ; but his eyes no sooner met
those of Jesus than he was seized with a paroxysm of his
malady, and fell on the ground, in violent convulsions and
foaming at the mouth. Insane, dumb, and writhing on the
earth : no sadder spectacle of the kind could well have been
seen.

It was desirable that the crowd should have the whole
incident impressed on their minds, and it was necessary for
the permanent good of the agonized father himself that his
faith should be strengthened.

" How long has he suffered in this way ? " asked Jesus.

"From childhood, and often the spirit casts him into
the water and into the fire, to kill him. But if Thou canst
do anything at aU^ have compassion on me and him, and
help us."

"//^ Thou canst f' replied Jesus, repeating his words
in gentle rebuke. — "All things are possible to him that
believes."

The intense emotion of the father could restrain itself no
longer. His son's cure had been made to turn on his own
confidence in the Healer, and that, even if felt, might not be
deep enough to secure the favour so unspeakably wished.
In his distress he could only break out into the pitiful cry

"help minb tjnbeliep.'' 259

which has risen from unnumbered hearts since his day, ohap^tix
" Yes, I believe: help Thou mine imbelief, if my faith is too
weak."«

The crowd had been closing in from all sides on Jesus and
the unhappy father and son, and further delay was to be
avoided. Turning, therefore, to the boy, Jesus addressed
the demon : " Speechless and deaf spirit, I charge thee, come
out of him, and enter no more into him." A wild shriek
and a dreadful convulsion^ followed, and then the boy lay
still and motionless, so that he seemed dead. Many, indeed,
said he was dead. But Jesus took him by the hand, and,
lifting him up, delivered him to his father, amidst the
loudly-expressed wonder of the multitude at the mighty
power of God.

The disciples, humbled by their failure, and unable, in
their self-deception, to account for it, took the first opportu-
nity, on their gaining privacy, to ask their Master to what it
was owing. " It was simply," said Jesus, " because of your
little faith ; ® indeed, I may say yoiu' want of faith, for I
assure you if you had steadfast, unwavering faith, though ever
so small, in my help, and in the power of God, no difficulty
would seem too great for you to remove. You know how
men call overcoming difficulties * removing a mountain ; '* I
tell you that no mountain of difficulty would be so great —
far less this one which foiled you — ^that it would not, at the
word of firm trust in God, be moved out of yoiur way."^^ w sdueier.
''As regards this cure," He added, " you had to do with a gjoiSkiiL
kind of demoniac possession, which especially demands strong
faith, for every attempt to overcome it without such faith
as comes through prayer, so persistent that it neglects even
the needs of the body for the time, must be fruitless.^ It
never is the greatness of the difficulty, but only the weakness
of your faith, that stands in your way. Remember this in
years to come."

Jesus did not stay long in the district of Caesarea Philippi,
but erelong turned once more towards Galilee, probably
taking the road by Dan, across the slopes of Lebanon,
with the wild reed-forests of the Huleh marshes on its south
side, and on its north the huge mountain masses of Lebanon

80-82. Lvke
9.48— tf.

260 THB LIFE OP CHBIST.

cHAP.xLvn. and Hermon, and the broad, well-watered sweep of upland
" 2**M^ valley between.^® He would thus most easily reach the hills
of Galilee by an unusual route, and escape the publicity of
an approach by the ordinary roads. It was the last time
He was to visit the scene of so great a part of His public life,
and He felt, as He journeyed on, that He could no more pass
from village to village as openly as in days gone by, for the
eyes of His enemies were everywhere on Him. The time
He had previously given to teaching and heaUng was now
devoted mainly to the special preparation of His disciples
for the approaching end. Now and then, when special
occasion demanded. He was as ready as ever to relieve the
wretched, or to justify and repeat the words which He had
so often delivered in the synagogues; but He usually shunned
notice, not wishing, in the words of St. Mark, that any man
should know. Avoiding the more populous places, and
seeking by-paths among the hills,*' where He would meet
few and be little known. He made His way towards His old
home, Capernaum. But He could no longer show Himself
anywhere as He had done in the days of His popularity, for
every word or act would have created new excitement, and
given a fresh ground for accusation. He had resolved to go
to Jerusalem and there meet His fate, but He could only do
this by guarding against anything which might lead to His
arrest in Galilee, for in that case He would be tried and
condemned by a local court. Jerusalem alone must see the
catastrophe, for it was the centre of the nation, the head-
quarters of the priesthood and Rabbis — His enemies — and His
death then would be distinctly their work : their open and*
formal rejection, as representatives of the nation, of the New
Kingdom, and of Himself as the Messiah.

He stayed in Galilee, therefore, only so long as His purpose
to go to Jerusalem permitted, and meanwhile withdrew from
public life, to devote Himself especially to the Twelve and
prepare them for His death, of which He seems to have spoken
very often. One of the fragments of His intercourse with
them, while slowly journeying onwards to His own town, has
been preserved to us. " You have heard," said He, " how
the multitudes express their amazement at the mighty power

FALSE HOPES CHERISHED. 261

of God shown in the miracles they have seen me perform, as ohap.xlvil

in the case of the cure of the boy, after my descent from the

mount. Let theirwords^ in which they have thus acknow- ^5v^xy7^i^<yl^^ ; ^^^^^

ledged and magnified my acts as not less than divine, sink ^fi^2.<ui .

into your memories, and strengthen and confirm your faith

in me as the Messiah. For I, the Son of Man — ^the Messiah

— ^whose mighty works.you have heard extolled so greatly,

might easily have set myself at the head of the people, and

led them by supernatural power, as they and their chief men

wish, to outward national glory. But I will assuredly be

delivered up and abandoned by these very crowds, and given

over to the authorities, because I will not use my power for

any but holy and spiritual ends. I will be betrayed into

the hands of my enemies, and they will put me to death, but

I shall rise again on the third day."

They were too full of their worldly hopes, which still
mingled strangely with their vague recognition of their
Master as the Son of God; too unwilling also to think
earnestly on a subject so unpleasant, and so opposed to
their ideas of the Messiah, to understand what He meant
by these sad forebodings. He needed only speak the word
and the people would follow Him, and He might, by His
miraculous power, which it seemed to them could not be
used for a nobler end, set up the theocracy, as even John,
apparently, had expected He would. Such language seemed
part of His dark sayings, with a secret meaning which He
would some day explain. They would fain have wished
this explanation, indeed, at once, to calm their minds, but
they hesitated to ask Him for it. He might, perhaps, if they
did so, tell them something still more unpleasant, as He
had done lately to Peter, in a similar case. Besides, they
did not like to think about what they so much disrelished,
and turned from matters which only filled them with gloom
to others more in keeping with their wishes and hopes.

These offered themselves in the distinction Jesus often
seemed to make in His bearing to one or other of their
number. ^^ Human nature is always the same, and jealousy » J^iJ^i®-^^
was as rife in those days as now. However impartially He \^^'
might treat them, their own characteristics made it impossible **"^

262 THE LIFE OF CHfilST.

QHAP.xLYiL that he should be as intimate and confidential with some
as with others. In some cases, as in the Transfiguration,
lately, He had thought fit to take only a few of them with
Him, and He seemed lately to have put especial honour on
Peter, while his friendship for John was closer and more
tender than for any other. All this, however, would have
troubled the less favoured ones little but for their almost
invincible belief that He would soon proclaim Himself as the
Messiah in the Jewish sense, and found a great political
kingdom. Everything was seen through this preconception,
and any marks of preference were taken as indications of
future position in the expected revolution. They assumed
that, having been chosen from all their countrymen by Jesus
as his closest followers, they would have the chief places in
the new empire He was to found, but there was abundant
room for jealousy in their individual claims to this or
that prominent dignity. Accustomed to discuss everything
openly, they naturally fell into warm controversy as to the
just distribution of the great offices of state among them,
when Jesus should be installed as Monarch of the world at
Jerusalem.

In this dispute, however, their Master took no* part. Nor,
indeed, did they wish Him to do so, for they had fallen
behind, in order that He might not hear them. They were
ashamed to have Him know what occupied their thoughts,
so little in harmony with His teaching and spirit. But He
had noticed all, though He said nothing for the moment
Meanwhile they once more entered Capernaum.

BBTOBB THB ITBAST. 263

CHAPTER XLVIII.

BEFORE THE FEAST.

THERE is something intensely human in the return ofoHAP.xLvm
Jesus to Capernaum in the face of imminent danger.^ " M*tt u.
It had been His home, and He was in all sinless regards a ^^»w-
man. He longed to see the old familiar spots once more ;
the hills behind the town, among which He had so often
wandered ; the shady woods, and orchards, and vineyards,
rich in foliage, or glowing with their ripening fruit in
these summer months. He had often looked out from
them on the sparkling waters, and, above all, had met
among them the few whom He had gathered round Him in
His long sojourn as their fellow-citizen. These He would
now fain strengthen in their faith, before leaving them for
ever.

His entrance into the town was marked by an application
to Peter by the local collectors of the Temple tax, for its
payment by His Master. Moses had provided funds for the
erection of the Tabernacle, by the imposition of a tax of half
a shekel on each male, payable at the "numbering of the
people,"^ and this, since the Babylonish Captivity, had been • i5axLw.ii.
required yearly. It was equal, nominally, to about one and n£m*'m!*' *
threepence of our money, but really to at least six times as
much,® and was demanded from every Israelite of the age of* Bartorf,577.
twenty — even the poorest. mS5S?DM

It was mainly from this heavy tax, paid as a sacred SljitJ^***'
duty by every Jew, in whatever country, that the Temple
treasury was filled with the millions of silver coins which
were so strong a temptation to lawless greed. Crassus,
Sabinus, and Pilate, in succession, had laid violent hands on
this unmeasured wealth, and the reckless greed of Moras in

264 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

oHAP. xLYin. its plunder was the proximate cause of the last great war,

• joi.BdLjiid. which destroyed both Temple and city.**

11.8. 8* 14.6; •' K ff

"■•• ' The Shelihim,^ or "messengers," who collected this tax in

Judea, visited each town at fixed times. In foreign countries
places were appointed for its collection in every city or
district where there were Jews — and where were they not ?
— ^the chief men of their community in each acting as
treasurer, and conveying the amounts in due course to

• phflode Jerusalem.^ Three huge chests, carefully guarded in a
£a^ifUL» 1 ps^rticular chamber in the Temple, held the yearly receipts,

which served, besides providing the beasts for sacrifice, to
pay the Rabbis, inspectors of victims, copyists, bakers,
judges, and others connected with the Temple service, and
numerous women who wove or washed the Temple linen.
It supplied, also, the costs of the water supply, and of the
repairs of the vast Temple buildings.

The collection began in the Holy Land on the Ist of
Adar — ^part of our February and March — the month of the
" returning sun," and the next before that of the Passover.
By the middle of it the official exchangers in each town had
set up their tables, and opened their two chests for the tax
of the current and of the past year, for many paid the
tax for two years, together. They supplied the old sacred
shekel, coined by Simon the Maccabee, for a trifling charge,
to all who required it, for only that coin was received by the
Temple authorities in homage to Pharisaic and national
sentiment. At first everything was left to the good will
of the people, but after the 25th, prompt payment was
required, and securities, such as an under garment, or the
like, were taken even from the pilgrims coming up to the
feast.

It was very likely, therefore, that the time of grace had
expired before Jesus reached Capernaum, so that the col-
lectors— apparently respectable citizens — felt themselves
justified in broaching the question to Peter — ^whether his
Teacher did not pay the two drachmas ? Perhaps they
fancied He was of the irreconcilable school of Judas the
Gralilsaan, who would pay no Temple tax so long as the

• g^J'g^^'- Holy City was polluted by the heathen Roman.^ His

THE TEBIPLB TAX. 365

enemies, indeed, very likely had insinuated that this was coBEAP^xLvm.
the case, to bring Him into suspicion with government.

Peter, ever zealous for his Master s honour, and, as usual,
impulsive, no sooner heard the application than He answered
affirmatively, on his own authority, and forthwith set off to
find Jesus and report the matter to Him.

The exact time for payment had passed while Christ had
been away from Capernaum, and the collectors were, doubt-
less, anxious to gather all arrears, to take with them to
Jerusalem at the approaching Feast of Tabernacles in Sep-
tember. As if to show that not even the most insignificant
matter that concerned His disciples escaped His notice, even
when not bodily present with them, Peter no sooner appeared
than his errand was anticipated by asking him his opinion,
whether, when kings levy taxes or tolls, they exacted them
from their own children, or only from their subjects ?

" I think," replied Peter, " that only the subjects pay."
**Then, of course," replied Jesus, "the king's children are free."

He wished to show that it would have been no failure of
duty to leave the tax unpaid. Peter had already owned
Him as the " Son of God," and it was for the Temple of God
the impost was levied. It might, therefore, be just and
proper to collect it from the nation at large, but it was not
fitting to ask it from Him. '* I am a king and a king's son ;
far more than any Roman or Herodian prince — for I am
the Son of God, as thou hast said, and this tax is for my
Father — God — ^the Great King ; for His Temple, and thus I
should be free."°

But, while thus maintaining to His apostle His rightful
immunity, He was too prudent to urge it in public. He
was not recognized as the Son of God outside the little circle
of His disciples, but was only an Israelite, like others, to
men at large, and, as such, was under the Law. It would
have given ground of accusation and misconception had He
hesitated to pay what all Jews paid cheerfully, as a religious
* duty.^

" It would not do for me, nevertheless," continued He,
therefore, " to seem to refuse. They would not understand
what I have been saying to you. Take your line, and go to

266 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

CHAP. xLvm. the lake ; you need not wait till you catch a number of fish
to make up the amount Take the first that comes to your
hook, and you will find in its mouth a stater,® which is
twice as much as is needed. With it you can pay for me
and for yourself."

The result is not given, but there can be no question that

f Trenab^t thc commaud secured its own fulfilment.'^ No lesson couldhave
«7s-88a \)Q^n given more suited to benefit Peter and his companions.
It taught them that, though they were His apostles, they
could not claim exemption from labour for their own support,
but yet quickened them to a firm repose on His watchful care,
which could help them in any extremity.

They remained for a short time in Capernaum, and, hap-
pily, we have a glimpse of their quiet private intercourse ;

• Matti8.i-M. doubtless the picture of many such occasions.® He had de-

U$xk 9. 88, AO. ■■' •' ,

Luk«».4e-«.layed allusion to their hot discussion on the way till the
quiet of evening and home.

" Tell me," said He, turning to one of them, " about what
were you disputing among yourselves on the road ? " But the
question received no answer, for all were aUke ashamed of
their unworthy jealousies and ambitions, and sat humbled
and silent.

It was an opportunity for impressing on them, once more,
the fundamental characteristic of His kingdom. Their daily
work, as disciples, reminded them continually of their rela-
tions to it, and it already engrossed their thoughts, but they
still failed to realize its purely spiritual character. The
trials waiting them rendered it, thus, the more necessary to
strengthen and support them beforehand, by correcting their
misapprehensions, and elevating their tone.

In the Sermon on the Mount they had heard, if they could
have understood it, how utterly His kingdom contrasted
with all their previous ideas. They had been told, in effect,*
that moral fitness alone secured entrance to it, and that
every external claim ; whether the fulfilment of legal duties,
or national privilege, or sacred calling — ^whatever had,
hitherto, been supposed to give a title to membership in the
bmt, We Drei old Thcocracy, must be abandoned as worthless.^ The reign
sdienkeL i0t. ^^ ^^^' ^^^ proclaimed, was, in fact, only the homage of

BREAMS OF AMBITION. 267

the soul, wldcli had prepared itself, like a purified Temple, chap, xltiil
by humble repentance and holy life, to be a habitation of His
Heavenly Father. Man must only receive from God : not
pretend to give to Him.

Citizenship in the new kingdom of the Messiah was pos-
sible, only when no thought of claim obtruded.

It was thus, in effect, simply a reproduction of the spirit
of Jesus Himself that was demanded, for the great charac-
teristic which gave His life its matchless beauty, was His
perfect divine humility. His lowly meekness had protected
Him at the opening of His ministry, when tempted to self-
exaltation : it had subordinated His own will, as by a law of
His being, to that of God ; it had opened His heart to the
poor of His nation, cast out and despised by the religious
pride of the day; it had made Him, throughout, the
friend of the oppressed, the lowly, and the wretched ; it had
led Him, of His free choice, to despise all worldly honour,
and it was now bearing Him, with a kingly grandeur, to
the abasement of the Cross, that He might open to His
nation, and to mankind, the way to peace with their
Father in Heaven, and found a kingdom of holiness, truth,
and love ; to ennoble and bless the present, and expand into
eternal felicity in the world to come.

It was vital, therefore, for His disciples, then, as now,
that they should have the same heavenly temper. Without
it, they could neither be efficient instruments in spreading
His kingdom, nor have any share in it themselves, for it was,
itself, the Kingdom — ^the reign of God, in the soul. The
danger of self-elevation had been greatly increased from the
moment when Jesus had accepted from them their formal
ascription of the Messianic dignity, at Caasarea PhilippL
What seductive dreams lay for Galilaean fishermen in their
being commissioned by the Messiah, as His confidential
friends, and the first dignitaries of His kingdom ! . They had,
indeed, heard Jesus speak of suffering a shameful death, as
the immediate result of His proclaiming Himself as the Mes-
siah, but when the mind is already preoccupied by its own
views, it is incredibly hard to turn it. Even the most dis-
coura^g incidents are transformed into supports, or at least

268 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

CHAP. xLvm. argued aside. " Perhaps Jesus had only spoken thus to try
them : perhaps it was one of the dark sayings He used so
often." Their future dignity in the kingdom had been the
topic of constant disputes and discussions, ever since the
eventful day at Caesarea PhilippL Had they not received
spiritual graces and powers? For what had they gone
through so much toil and danger? The reward could not
' be far distant. When it came, which of them should have
the first place, and be the Minister of the New Reign ?

They must be taught how utterly they- deceived them-
selves.

Jesus had sat down in the house and called the Twelve

» Mfttt.18.1. before putting the questioh.^^ As they stood round Him, —
Lnka».'4«: for disciples of a Rabbi always stood when their masters sat
down to teach them, — His first words scattered the whole
unworthy dream of their hearts.

" Whoever of you," said He, " it matters not which, seeks
to be before the other, and would distinguish himself in my

" He88iiLi47. Kingdom,^^ can only do so by cheerfully stooping to render
even the humblest services to all the rest. He must show
himself the willing servant of all, by doing whatever he can
to serve the others. He must seek and find his greatness in
being the humblest, and, therefore, the servant of all."*

Such language was well-nigh incomprehensible to men
misled by worldly pride and ambition. They were thinking
of themselves rather than of their Master ; of receiving rather
than rendering; of selfish ease and honour, rather than
loving self-sacrifice, which He had often told them was the
condition of their discipleship. He, therefore, resolved to
bring them to a better frame, and this by an illustration
rather than words. They knew, by experience, that even His
most unpalatable and His darkest words, had a greater ful-
ness of truth than their imperfect insight could realize.
They had, doubtless, also, at times, misgivings respecting their
dreams of the future, though they could not as yet lay these
aside. Some of them had even gone so far as to ask Him the
particular dignities He intended for each, that all future
strife might be checked by an authoritative announcement.
Calling to Him a little boy of the household ; lifting him

CHILD-IIKB HUMILITY. 269

in His arms, and pressing Him fondly to His breast, — as jfoHAP.xLvni.
to show how much nearer such an one was to Him than the
Twelve standing at a distance round, — He drew their atten-
tion to the child. Love of children and of their childish
traits, had always marked Him. A child, in His eyes, was a
type of the grace so dear to Him — ^humility. It raises no
overweening claims such as men advance, and accepts all its
relations in life as it finds them ; it adapts itself uncon-
sciously to the lowliest and most ungenial lot, and finds
happiness in it. It is the embodiment of dependence and
need ; of having nothing, and yet looking with simple trust
to a higher than itself.

The Twelve noted His act with wonder, not knowing what
it meant. He now proceeded to explain it.

" You see this child," said He ; ".I tell you solemnly, that,
unless you abandon your present worldly ideas and ambitious
thoughts, and become as simple and humble as it, and as
lovingly dependent on God as it is on man, you shall not
even enter my Kingdom, far less hold a high place in it. You
see how this child has no thought but of perfect loving trust
towards me ; how it does not pretend to give the worth of
what it receives, but opens its whole soul to me with artless
innocence. Such sweet humility must be foimd in him who
would seek to be greatest in my New Kingdom. To have
the heart of a child is the fixed abiding condition of admis-
sion, of accepted service, or of honour. This child is willing
to be the least of you all, and to serve you all, and, as I have
said, whoever of you is like it in this, is the greatest among
you. Your ambition must guide itself by this rule. Your strife
shows that you have not yet rightly grasped the true
nature of my Kingdom. It has no external dignities of
power and rank, for it is a reign of principles, not a worldly
dominion. All its members are therefore, brethren, on a
footing of perfect equality. Any one may, indeed, distin-
guish himself beyond others, but not as in the Old Testament
Kingdom, or as in that of the Messiah expected by the nation
at large, by external honour and dignity. The honours of
my Kingdom are won only by spiritual likeness to myself,
your example and Master. Self-denial, self-sacrifice: the

270 THE LEFB OF CHRIST.

cBARXLvm. surrender of person and goods for the sake of the brother-
hood; unselfish love — are the only path to the highest
place."

He had now answered the question ; but the sight of
the child kindled another thought of no less moment.
" You are looking for great events, and thinking with weak
pride, of your claims as my followers, and may be tempted to
dight and despise any one as spiritiess, md beneath you, who
is humble and unassuming, like this child on my knee. But
let me tell you, that any one who honours and receives to his
heart even a single child-like soul which delights in meekness
and humility, as learned from me, has done the same in spirit,
and will receive a like reward, as if he had received me my-
self, and done me personal honour. And since all that is
done to me from an honest heart, is homage done to my
Father who sent me. He Himself will show His approval, for
even the humblest that lives, if he be my disciple, is great
and honoured before Him."

The use of the words "in my name" had, meanwhile,
recalled an incident of their recent journey to John, " the
Son of Thunder." The Twelve had met, in their way, one
casting out devils in the name of Jesus, though he was not
one of their company, and instead of " receiving " him, had
charged him to desist, because he was not of their own
number. John now reported the matter, as if struck by
the contrast between his own conduct and the counsel just
given. "Forbid him not," replied Jesus, — "One who,
though not of my circle, has yet attained so strong a faith
in me that he works miracles through my name, needs not
be feared as likely, by any sudden change, to speak against
me." The want of forbearance had sprung from the want
of humility, for pride is the special source of impatience.
" He who is not against us," continued Jesus, " is for us."
He whom John had treated so harshly had, at least, acted
in His name, though, perhaps, with a very imperfect concep-
tion of His true dignity, or of the scope and greatness of
His work. But he was very different from the blasphemers
who did not shrink from speaking of the Holy Spirit as a
spirit of evil. Moreover, the nearer the end approached, the

BISCOnRSE OF JESUS. 271

more needful it was to root out any signs of selfish or haughty ohap.xlyiil

feelings in the Twelve, and to lead them to look with kindly

eyes on even a partial, if friendly relationship to Him. He

wished them to realize that worthiness to rank in the New

Society was shown by the goodwill, and trustful, child-like

spirit, which led to devotion to Him, rather than by the

measure of knowledge evinced. It was of great moment, at

this time, to wake kindly and broad-hearted feelings towards

any, who, while acting apart, were yet friendly. Were He

once gone, it would be left to His disciples to continue His

work, and it would depend upon them whether the Society,

founded by Him, would bd really the beginning of a new

epoch in religion, or only a piece of new cloth sewed on an

old garment ; whether it would be a Jewish sect or a faith

for mankind.^

" No one is to be lightly esteemed," continued Jesus, " who
shows you the slightest mark of goodwill or friendship, were
it only a drink of cold water, which all give so readily in
these sultry lands — when given because you are my disciples.
Even this will be rewarded by God as an act worthy His
favour. Nor are you only thus honoured. So precious to
Me is the humble child-like spirit which you are disposed to
despise, that if any one, by words or deeds, cause even one
such soul who believes, to turn away from me; as you were
in danger of doing when you forbade the stranger to cast
out devils in my name ; it would be better for him that a
huge ass-mill-stone ^ were hung round his neck and he
drowned in the depths of the lake, that he might be saved
from so great a sin.

"Alas for the world-wide sorrow which the sins of
many who will call themselves mine will cause, by keeping
men from me 1 They will judge of me by these unworthy
followers, and keep aloof from my kingdom. It cannot,
indeed, be otherwise, for the evil that is in man will make
even the name of religion a scandal. But how awful the
judgment that awaits him who leads another from the way
of life I

" I have said that it would be better for a man to die than
that he should lead another astray. So, whatever may lead

272 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

oHAP. xLvm. you to sin, and thus bring scandal on my name, had much
better be put from you, at any cost. If anything, therefore,
however dear to you, incites you to sin, or keeps you from
a godly life, thrust it from you. If the most precious
members of the body — a foot or a hand — ^be cut oflF, to
prevent death of the whole ; how much rather, at any sacrifice,
whatever sins of thought or act, which, by misleading others,
would cause us to lose eternal life, and be cast into hell-fire,
» iflaia]iM.»i. where their worm never dies, and the fire is not quenched 1^*
8chiirar,Me. "Evcry ouc csst mto the fire, which the prophet thus
calls unquenchable — every one, that is, who gives himself
up to sin, shall certainly suffer the wrath of God, and be
salted with fire, as the victims on the altar are salted with
salt. But every one whose humble and steadfast fsdth in me
has shown him to be, as it were, a pure and worthy sacrifice,
fit to be laid on the altar of God, will, on his entrance into
the heavenly kingdom of the Messiah, be salted, not with
fire, but with the gift of higher grace, that he may endure
unto life eternal.* Salt is of value to prevent corruption,
and I have, before now, called you * the salt of the earth ; '
because, if you are my true disciples, you will arrest the
corruption that prevails among men, and make the community
sound. How dreadful, however, if you, the salt, lose your
savour. How wiU you regain it ? If you turn to evil, and,
through sloth or faint-heartedness, be untrue to your calling,
how can your needful energy and efficiency be restored ?
You wish to be accepted at last as pure and worthy offerings
to God, and to receive the gift of heavenly wisdom, which is
everlasting life. To attain it, take care to guard the salt of
true wisdom which has been already given you — ^the grace
bestowed on you to be my disciples. Remember, moreover,
that salt is the symbol of peace ; be at peace among your-
selves, and do not dispute and argue as you have been
doing, lest you lose the power and fruits of my teaching."

Jesus had for the time digressed from His original subject
— ^the humble and child-like among His followers — ^but now
returned to it.

" Respecting those little ones of whom I was speaking —
lowly, self-distrustful; as weak, yet, it maybe, in faith, as little

TREATMENT OF AN OFFENDER. 273

children in strength — I would further say : Take heed^^ that chap, xlvul
ye do not slight or contemn any one of them, for I tell you " L^"'''i3L*'
so greatly honoured and so dear are they in the sight of God,
that the humblest of them, for their very humility, are placed
by Him under the loving care of the highest angels, who
stand before Him, and see His face continually. Glorious
though all angels be, only such exalted spirits — the princes
of heaven — ^are thought worthy by God to minister to them
and protect them. ^

" To slight or despise even one such would, indeed, be to
undo, so far, the very end for which I have come as the
Messiah. You may, by doing so, turn him away from me,
and so cause his soul to be lost. Much rather, if you meet
with an humble spirit, still weak in the faith, which has
gone astray, should you do your utmost to bring it back.
For what shepherd feeding, it may be, a hundred sheep, in
our upland pastures, if one of them stray, does not leave the
ninety and nine, and set off into the hills to seek for the one
that has wandered? And if he be so happy as to find it, I tell
you, beyond doubt, he rejoices more over the one thus
saved than over the ninety and nine that had not strayed.
In the same way as it grieves the shepherd that even one of
his sheep should be lost, so it grieves my Father in Heaven
that one of these feeble, simple souls should perish, and it
sorely displeases Him if it perish by the neglect or fault of
any of my disciples.

" Let me pass to a distinct, yet related subject — the proper
treatment of a brother in the faith who does you any wrong,
by anger, envy, selfishness, or in any other way. Do not
wait till he who has thus injured you comes to you to make
amends, but go to him by yourself, and tell him his fault
in private ; that, if possible, you may get him to own it
between you and him alone, and thus the scandal of differ-
ence between disciples spread no farther, and he be won for
my New Kingdom, from which he would have been shut out,
if, by refusing to be reconciled, he had shown no repentance.
Seek his good, not your own justification merely: however
wronged, think less of yourself than of his eternal salvation.

"If, however, he will not listen to your kindly remonstrance

VOL. n, 67

274 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

CHAP. xLvm. and persuasion, go a second time to him, taking two
or three witnesses with you, as Moses directed in other

w Deut. 19.16, in cases ;^* if, perchance, though he had not been moved by
^^ your single appeal, that of two or three supporting you, may

lead him to see and acknowledge his fault. Their testimony,
besides, will prevent his denial of his confession, should he
make one, and afterwards repudiate it ; while, if he refuse to
listen and to admit his fault, and the matter must be brought
before the Assembly, it will support and confirm at once the
fact of your private visit for attempted reconciliation, and
his stubborn refusal to hear even the two or three brethren
you took with you on the second visit.

*' The Rabbis enjoin that the ofiender shall go to him
whom he has injured, and own his fault, and that if he can-
not thus procure forgiveness, he shall take others with him

w Lightfoot, 8Jid seek to obtain it;^^ but I require that he who is wronged
2m!* ^ ' do this, that he may show his humility, and his patient love
for a guilty brother.

^'You know, moreover, how a stubborn offender, who
refuses private amends, is at last proclaimed as such, in the

w Lightfoot, ii Synagogue and in the schools. ^^ In my New Society, the
congregation of the new Israel — ^the Kahal, or assembly of
my followers, which will, hereafter, be called the Church,
is to make a third final attempt to win the guilty one to
repentance. You are to tell the facts to the ' congregation,'
and ask their godly offices, and they, through appointed
representatives, will then seek to bring him to a right frame
of mind. If, after all, he refuse to hear even the congregation,
you are freed from further responsibility, and are absolved
from all further religious relationship to him, as you have
hitherto thought yourselves to be from the heathen, and
from men of vicious life, such as the publicans. Not that
you are to despise him, or refuse him the common offices of
humanity, as your countrymen do to such classes, for you
are still to love and seek to win him back, even till the very
last, as your Heavenly Father does with the unthankful and
eviL

" Let every offender think how solemn his position will
be if thus obdurate before the congregation. I have already

2U.

TILL SEVENTY TIMES SEVEN. 275

given Peter — bs the key-bearer of my spiritual Temple — the chap. xLvm.
New Society I have founded — ^power to forbid and allow, to
enact and define, what is needed for its future government and
discipline, and have told you that what he ordains, so far as
it is in harmony with the mind of the Spirit of God, will be
confirmed by me in heaven, as if I were still with you on
earth. This power I now extend to you all, my twelve
faithful followers, and I give you, as a body, the same assur-
ance of my confirmation of what you appoint for the govern-
ment of my Society. Peter is, thus, only the first among equals.
If the remedy I have pointed out be insufficient, as my Society
extends, to meet such offences, I leave it to you to devise
and apply what other means may seem needed, as the occasion
demands. And that you may feel how formally and solemnly
I now, before my departure, depute this power to you, I tell
you, further, that if two of you shall agree on any matter,
thus affecting the salvation of souls by the right; discipline
of my Society, or for other good ends, and shall ask my
Father in Heaven to grant your desire. He will do so. For
where two or three of you are gathered together in my
name, I am in their midst, so that you need not doubt my
promise that what even so few agree to ask my Father, in
matters pertaining to my kingdom, will be granted." ^

The Twelve had listened to their Master in reverent
silence, but now the ever self-asserting Peter, still intensely
Jewish in feeling, interrupted Him by a question conceived
in the narrow and formal spirit of Rabbinism.

" Lord," said he, " our teachers tell us that if a person
do us wrong we are to forgive him, a first, second, and third
time, but not a fourth.^^ 'WTiat sayest Thou ? Would seven » B»byi. jomi^
times be enough r

"I am far from limiting my requirement to seven times,"
replied Jesus. " So far from that, if you be of a truly
humble and child-like spirit, as you ought, you will forgive
to seventy times seven — that is, any number of times. Let
me show you my thoughts on this point by a parable.

" The subjects of my kingdom are like the servants of a
certain ruler, with whom their lord would make a reckon-
ing. So he called before him his revenue collectors — ^the

276 THE LIFE OF CHBIST.

cHAP^xLvm gatherers of his taxes and tolls, and demanded a settlement
from them. Among others, one was brought to him who
owed him ten thousand talents — ^that is, thirty millions of
shekels™ — a sum it was hopeless for him to think of repay-
ing. . When the king heard how much he owed, he cried out
that ' he would be paid,' and commanded him to be sold as a
slave, with his wife and children, and all that he had, in
payment of the debt." On hearing this, the servant fell
down before him, beseeching him, *Lord, have patience
with me, and I will pay thee all.' At this his lord was
moved with compassion, and having ordered him to be
unbound, not only gave him time, as he had asked, but,
knowing he could never pay, forgave him the debt alto-
gether.

"This servant, however, thus freely forgiven, went out
and found one of his fellow-servants who owed him a

w At 74d. » hundred denarii^® — ^less than the seven hundredth-thousandth
whole dSbt of what he had himself owed — and laid hold of him by the
throat, sajdng fiercely, * Pay what you owe.' The debtor
thereupon fell down at his feet, as he had fallen at those of
his lord, and besought him, * Have patience with me, and I
will pay thee.' But he had no pity, and cast him into
prison, till he should pay the debt. His fellow-servants,
seeing what was being done, were troubled at such hard-
heartedness, and at the ill-treatment of the poor man, and
came and told their lord all that had happened. Then the
lord, having called the offender, said to him, * 0 thou wicked
servant, I forgave you all the great debt you owed me,
because you asked me, though you sought only time, not
forgiveness. Should not you, also, have had pity on your
fellow-servant, as I had pity on you?' And his lord was
indignant, and delivered him over to the torturers, to deal
with him in the prison-house as they thought fit, till he
should pay all that was due to him.

" So, the forgiveness God has granted you, of your great
debt to Him, which you could never pay — the guilt of your
sins — must lead you from your heart to forgive your brother
man, not seven, but any number of times, the far smaller
debt he may owe you ; for if you do not forgive him, the

GRANDEUR OF CHRIST's HUMILITY. 277

wrath of God will bum upon you at the great day, and you ohap. xlviii.
will be cast into everlasting ptmishment."

The transcendent loftiness of Christ's spiritual nature
shines out through this whole episode. In His perfect
humility He makes no personal claims. As, on every occa-
sion, He declares simplicity and lowliness, like that of child-
hood, the mark of true discipleship ; asks no higher or
more signal acknowledgment, as a man, than was to be
shown to all others ; and ranks the friendly and kind treat-
ment of any of His followers a9 if done to Himself. He
demands no exclusive honour, but, on the contrary, every
childlike spirit in the kingdom of God has in His sight a
priceless value, however slight the instance by which its
character was shown. The good deed done to the least of
His people, is considered as personal to Himself. Neither
now, nor at any time, does He bear Himself as one to whom
all were to bow as servants; He takes His place in the
midst of the little band round Him, as one who shares with
them the highest and holiest joys. Within this circle we
ever find Him strengthening and encouraging each to sur-
render himself for the good of the rest, and to cheer and
honour especially, the humblest, the least esteemed, the most
unpretentious ; or, it may be, the mere workers who could
not push themselves into notice. Meek and lowly in heart.
He was no less of an infinite pity. The New Society, taught
by His example and words, learned that they were to repro-
duce the spirit of little children, in that hitherto unimagined
grandeur of humility which almost rejoices to suffer because
it gives an opportunity to forgive.

278 THE LIFE OF OHfilST.

CHAPTER XLIX.

JLT THE FEAST OF TABERNACL.?a

cHAFxm. rjlHE seventh month, Tisri, part of our September and

A October — "the month of the full streams," and the

autumnal equinox, had now come. Nisan, "the flower

month," known of old as Abib, " the earing month," had

i john7.»-io. seen the Passover pass without the presence of Jesus.^ Ijj^r,

iT.iwir ' "the beautiful month," with its blossoming trees; Si wan,
" the bright ; " Tammuz ; Ab, " the fruit month ; " and Elul,
" the month of wine ; " had gone by in the journey to Tyre
and Sidon, and to Caesarea Philippi. Jesus had now been
well-nigh half a year little better than an outlawed fugitive,
hiding, in unsuspected districts, from His enemies. The
fifteenth day of Tisri was the first of the great harvest feast
of the year — that of Tabernacles — a time all the more joyful
from its coming only four days after the Day of Atonement
— ^the close of the Jewish Lent. Galilee was no longer open
to Him, and the Kingdom was yet to be proclaimed in Jeru-
salem, the haughty city of the Temple, and of David. He
knew that to go there would be, sooner or later, to die ; but,
with this clearly before Him, He calmly resolved, at the sum-
mons of duty, to transfer the sphere of His activity from the
remote and secluded security of the north to the head-quarters
of the Rabbis and priests. He had come into the world to be
the Lamb of God, bringing salvation to His people and man-
kind by the proclamation of the New Kingdom, sealed with
His blood ; and Jerusalem alone, the seat of the dispensation
He came to supersede, was the fitting scene for inaugurating
the economy that was to take its place.

He was still in Capernaum when the great caravan of
pilgrims began to pass to the feast. His relations, who, as

DELAY IN STABTING FOB THE FEAST. 279

yet, had declared neither for nor against Him, had, apparently, chap. xlix.
come over from Nazareth to get Him to go up to Jeru-
salem with them. They could not have felt any hostility to
One whose holy life had passed under their eyes, but, like
the nation at large, they clung to what they had always been
taught by the Rabbis, that the Messiah was to restore Israel
to national glory, and to transfer the sceptre of universal
power from Rome to Jerusalem. In their worldly wisdom
they could not understand Him. It seemed to them unwise
that He should stay in a corner of the land, if he wished to
establish the kingdom of the Messiah. The Rabbis, as He
knew, taught that it was to be set up in Jerusalem, and it
was clear that it could be extended best from the Holy City,
as a centre. Why did He not go up with them now, they
asked, to the feast, that all who were friendly to Him, or
who might become so, might see His miracles,, and thus be
constrained to support Him? "Nobody," they urged, "who
aimed at being a great national leader, as they fancied He
did, by His claiming to be the Messiah, could hope for
success if He wrought all the " signs" which were to rally
the people round Him, in an out-of-the-way place like
Galilee. He had not been at the last Passover, or at Pen-
tecost, when the people were gathered in the Holy City from
all the land, and, indeed, from all the world ; but He might,
perhaps, repair this error even yet, if He went up now, and
showed His power before the assembled myriads of Israel.
If they accepted Him as Messiah, their very numbers would
sweep away the heathen like chaff before the wind, especially
when supported by miraculous help. It was unwise to keep
back in this obscure and hidden district ; He should show
Himself openly to the Jewish world, which He could only
do in Jerusalem."

" You think the present the fit moment for carrying out
my plans," said Jesus. " You err. It is not yet the
divinely appointed time for my doing this. You may go
up openly before all Israel, at any time, because you and
they are at one in not receiving me. They have no reason
to hate you, nor have the priests and Rabbis, their leaders ;
but they hate me, because I, the Light of the world — the

280 THE LITIS OF CHRIST.

cHAP.xLDL true Messiah — on whom all should believe, am a stand-
ing protest against them, that they sin in hating and per-
secuting me, as a transgressor of the Law and a blasphemer,
because I have witnessed against their corruption and
hypocrisy. They wish a political Messiah: I seek only
spiritual ends. Go up, yourselves. The present time does
not suit me to go with you." Their hope that He would
lift the family to the highest honour, by heading a national
Messianic movement, had come to nothing.

The object of His delay was to avoid going with the great
Galila3an caravan, which entered the Holy City with public
rejoicings. He would be recognized at once, and the multi-
tude, in the excitement of the time, might again try to force
Him into political action. Publicity and popular enthusiasm
would have drawn the attention of those in power, and this
He at present earnestly wished to avoid. His work was not
to be rashly broken off by any imprudent act, for He
needed all the opportunities that remained, to devote Himself
to the Twelve and to His other followers. He could go up
a few days later, and thus avoid the caravan. The feast
lasted seven days, closing with the eighth as the greatest,
and thus, even if He started later. He could mingle with the
multitudes, and find out how men felt towards Him and
His work, and proclaim the New Kingdom as He saw fit. The
danger would be averted, and His great end better served.
It was more in keeping with His spirit to avoid all appear-
ance of courting popularity, and to deliver His great message
of love in stillness ; leaving its reception to its own charms,
and to the lowly humility, self-denial, and gentleness, with
which it was delivered.

Waiting, therefore, for some days, till things were quiet.
He started with the Twelve, and a number of disciples, for

« jotaiT.i-io. Jerusalem.^ Crossing Esdraelon, now stripped of its harvest,
Engannim, the " fountain of gardens," saw Him once more
on Samaritan soil. The caravans had perhaps gone over t^e
Jordan, to travel down its eastern bank, and thus avoid the
pollution of the direct route through hated Samaria.

He had been kindly received in the alien district on His
former passage through it, northwards, but He was now

FIBBCB SPIRIT OF JOHN. 281

going towards Jerusalem instead of leaving it, and this was ohaj. xlix.

enough to rouse the bitterness of the Samaritans. As was

His custom, He had sent on messengers before Him to secure

hospitality for the night, but it was at once refused. John

and James — "the Sons of Thunder" — ^who had perhaps been

the messengers, were especially indignant, and showed how

little they had profited by the lessons of meekness they had

BO long been receiving. With the harsh Jewish feeling

which regarded every one except a Jew as accursed, and

hateful to God, and sought to establish the New Kingdom,

not by mildness and love, but by force, they would fain have

had fire called down from heaven to consume the unfiiendly

village.* They had likely spoken of Jesus as the Messiah, or,

perhaps. His fame as such, may have already crossed the

border. But the Samaritans* expected from the Messiah

that he would restore the Temple on Mount Gerizim, and

instead of that, Jesus was going up to a feast in Jerusalem.

John and James, however, could make no allowance. Elias

had once called fire from heaven in his own honour :^ how • 2 Kings i.

9— IS.

much more should men perish who had rejected the Messiah.
The teaching of Jesus had not as yet softened the fierce
Jewish spirit of the Twelve. Fanatical bitterness had struck
its roots into their deepest nature. How utterly were they
still wanting in patience towards the erring, and filled only
with the thought of wrath and destruction I They had not
yet realized that the kingdom of Jesus is one of faith alone :
that it cannot be spread by compulsion and violence, but
must spring from humility and love ; that it must rest on
free and honest conviction, and can grow strong and abiding
only when a child-like spirit obeys and advances it.

Deeply troublea, and no less offended, Jesus turned
towards the fierce zealots, and rebuked their foolish and
cruel harshness. They had heard Him say that He came
to serve, not to reign ; to suffer for others, not to inflict
suffering on any ; and He had but lately told them, once and
again, how He was about to give Himself up to death for
the gooa of the world. But though their ears had heard,
and their conscience approved, their hearts had not willingly
accepted the intimation, and hence they were ever exposed

282 THB LIFE OF CHRIST.

cHAP.xLix. to fall back into Jewish fanaticism.* Rebuking them
* schenkei. 172. stcmly, He taught them a needed lesson, by merely passing
to another village.

It was hard for the disciples to realize that, to be followers
of Jesus, they must surrender themselves unconditionally to
the will of God, and devote themselves to the work of the
Kingdom, without a lingering tie to the world they had left.
The circumstances demanded explicit statements of what
discipleship thus involved, and hence, when fresh applicants
for the honour presented themselves, Jesus was more frank
and earnest, if possible, than ever before, in setting the cost
before them. A Samaritan had come forward asking leave
to follow Him; as if to show that all were not like the
villagers who had treated Him so unkindly. It may be he
had very imperfect ideas of what his wish implied, but Jesus
did not leave him in doubt. He told him all His own posi-
tion, and all that awaited His disciples : that He had forsaken
house and home for ever, and that the birds of the air, and
the beasts of the field, had a lot to be envied compared
with His.

The seeming harshness of His replies to two others, per-
haps Samaritans, who also asked leave to follow Him, is
explained by these facts. From the first He had held out
no rewards, but predicted only privation and sufiering to
His disciples, but these were closer at hand now than they
had been when He called the Twelve. To follow Him had
come to mean, literally, to leave all, and to make up one's
mind to the worst. He was a mark for the fiercest hatred of
those in authority, and His circle could not escape suffering
with their Master. The most utter, unqualified devotion, the
purest spirit of self-sacrifice, were required. " Let the dead ;
those who will not receive the preaching of the Kingdom,
bury their dead," said He, to one who wished to bury his
father. "Surrender yourself utterly to God." Another,
whose want of the supreme resolution demanded, showed
itself in a request to be allowed to bid farewell to his friends,
was told that it could not be. " The prayers, the tears of
your circle at home, might shake your decision to consecrate
a scbenkei, 178. youTSclf wholly to the kingdom of God."*

THE SEVENTY SENT OUT. 283

It was now many months since the sending out of the chap. xux.
Twelve on their first missionary journey. It had been ne-
cessary to confine them to strictly Jewish ground, to avoid
ofiijnce, and from their own defective sympathy with other
populations. Both difficulties were now, however, in part,
removed : the openly hostile attitude of the leaders of the
nation made it unnecessary to consider their prejudices ; the
Apostles had, in some degree, gained broader charity, and,
above all, the near approach of the end made it desirable
that the fuU grandeur of the New Bangdom, as intended for
all men alike, should be clearly shown before its founder's
death, that thei*e might be no possible misconception after-
wards. Jesus had always yearned to proclaim the words of
life to the different races whom He saw around Him. A
boundless field opened itself for the missionary labours of
any number of disciples, and He now had round Him a
larger number than before, whom He could thus send out.
He determined, therefore, to send out no fewer than seventy
disciples ; in the Jewish opinion, the number of the nations
of the world. The lesson could not be doubtful. It was a
significant announcement that, for the first time in the
history of man, a universal religion was being proclaimed.

Samaria, through whi^ch He was passing, had, naturally,
the first claim on the new enterprise, and that aU the more
from the proof of its need of spiritual light, furnished by the
inhospitality shown to Him who was bringing that light to
its borders.

The Seventy, separated into pairs, were detailed to carry
the message of peace to all the habitations of the race they
had formerly, as Jews, so hated. They had grown up from
childhood in the narrowest Pharisaic spirit, and were still, in
some measure, under its spell. The Rabbis did not permit
any close intercourse of Jews with heathen or Samaritans ;
they were forbidden to enter their houses, or return their
greetings, and, still more, to join them in a common meal.
But the grand maxims of charity and love which Jesus had
so often taught, were now to be put in practice. Jewish
exclusiveness was to be done away for ever, by the procla-
mation of a Saviour of Mankind. His messengers, therefore,

284 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

CHAP. xLcc while losing no time on the way by long and formal
salutations, were to bear themselves with loving trust even
among hostile populations, taking neither purse, nor wallet,
and wearing only the sandals of the poor — to show their
lowly bearing, and humble personal claims. The instruc-
tions given formerly to the Twelve, were, in fact, repeated ;
instructions then as amazing as if Hindoo Brahmins of to-
day were sent forth with orders to care nothing for caste, and
associate freely, and even eat, with abhorred Pariahs and
Sudras. The Seventy were to join, without hesitation or
reserve, in the household life of the hated Samaritans, and eat
with them at their tables ! No other condition of spiritual
brotherhood was to be required than that of a believing

• sciienkei,L rcceptiou of the salvation through Jesus.

6

Only one incident of the journey of Jesus Himself is re-
corded, but it is wondrously significant. His repulse at the
border village had changed His route, for now, instead of
going straight south. He turned eastwards, and followed the
» Luke 17. road that runs between Samaria and Galilee,^ ^ down the

11^19

ravines, to the fertile meadows of Bethshean or Scythopolis,
where a ford or bridge led over the Jordan. The route
stretched thence, southwards, to Jericho.

The calm rebuke of John and James for their anger and
revengeful spirit, and the return of good for evil in the
sending forth the Seventy to preach the Kingdom throughout
the Samaritan region, had shown that the rudeness He had
received had not ruffled His spirit. He was now to add
another proof of His serene and loving nature. As they
approached a border village, a dismal spectacle was presented.
Ten men, hideous with leprosy, ranged themselves at a dis-
tance from the road, as similar sufferers still do, before their
huts at the Zion Gate at Jerusalem. It was a law in Samaria
■ AnttL4.B. that no leper could enter a town,^ and hence the unfortu-
nate creatures accosted Jesus while He was still outside the
village. Misery had broken down all prejudice of race or
faith, and had brought together even Jew and Samaritan, as
it still does in the leper haunts of Jerusalem and Nablous.
The ten had heard of Jesus, and the wonderful cures He had
performed on such as they, and no sooner saw Him than

THE TEN LEPERS. 285

they broke out with the common cry — "Tam^l Tam^I ohap^lix.
Unclean, unclean I Jesus, Master, have mercy on us." It
was a sight that might have touched any heart, for it must
have been like that which still repeats itself to passers-by at
the leper quarters elsewhere — a crowd of beggars without
eyebrows, or hair on their faces or heads, the nails of their
hands and feet, and even a hand or a foot itself, gone from
some ; the nose, the eyes, the tongue, the palate, more or less
wanting in others.^ As they stood afar off, their lips covered » Bshr, Pftiaee.
with their abbas, like mourners for the dead ; for they were Thomson, C5i.
smitten with a living death, which cut them off from inter-
course with their fellows ; the pity of Jesus was excited, and
without even waiting to come near, sent hope to them in
the words, ''Go, show yourselves to the priests." They
knew what the command meant, for no one who was not
cleansed could approach a priest, and as they moved off,
the disease left them. The Samaritan would have to show
himself to a Samaritan priest ; tae nine Jews needed to go
up to Jerusalem for an officia. certificate of health, at the
Temple ; but it was the least either the one or the others
could do, when they lelt their cure, to return, if only for a
moment, to thank their benefactor for a deliverance from
worse than death. But the nine Jews were too much con-
centrated on themselves to tnin^. of this. Only one, the
Samaritan, showed natural gratitude, and came back and
threw himself at the feet of Jesus, in humble acknowledg-
ment of the goodness shown him. " Were there not ten
cleansed?" asked Christ; "where are tiie nine? The only
one who has returned to give glory to God is this Samaritan,
whom Jews call a heatnen, and an alien from Israel. Arise,
go thy way, thy faith hath made thee whole." The Twelve
had received another lesson of universal charity.

The Feast of Tabernacles was one of the three great feasts
which every Jew was required to attend. It was held from
the fifteenth of Tisn to the twenty-second, the first and last
days being Sabbaths— the latter "the great day of the
feast." It commemorated, in part, the tent-life of Israel in
the wilderness, but was also, still more, a feast of thanks
for the harvest, which was now ended even in the orchards

286 THE LIFE OF C^IST.

cHAP.xLix. and vineyards. Every one lived in booths of living twigs,
branches of olive, myrtle, fir, and the like, — ^raised in the
open courts of houses, on roofs, and in the streets and
open places of the city. All carried in the left hand a
citron,® and in the right the lulab — ^a branch of palm woven
round with willow and myrtle. On each of the seven feast
days the priests went out with music and the choir of Le-
vites, amidst the shouts of vast multitudes, to draw water
in a golden vessel, from the spring of Siloah ; to be poured
out at the time of the morning oflfering as a libation, on the

«• John 7. w. west side of the great altar, ^^ amidst great joy, singing and
dancing, such as was not all the year besides. On the
evening of the first day a grand illumination, from huge
candelabra which shed light far and near over the city,
began in the Court of the Women,^ and torch dances of
men were kept up, in the court, with music and songs, till

'I B{beiLez.i]id thc Tcmplc ffatcs closed.^^

Winer F o «

"^^b^tten- ^^^ Jewish authorities kept looking for Jesus, ^^ foj, ^hey
Sfhtfoot,uL had counted on His attending the great national holiday,
„ fAf^'^^ and thus coming within their reach, but, to their disappoint-
auTOK ment. He appeared not to be in Jerusalem. So their officers
reported. His absence had, indeed, been noted by the mul-
titude, and everywhere He was the subject of conversation
and discussion. The Rabbis and higher Temple dignitaries
had shown themselves so hostile to Him that no one dared
to mention His name except in whispers, for fear of ex-
communication, but He was more or less the one engrossing
topic of the bazaars and the booths of the feast. Opinions
were divided. Some, who judged for themselves, main-
tained that He was a good man, and that it would be well
for all to follow what He taught: others, and they, no
doubt, the great majority, who took their opinions from
their religious leaders, hotly and loudly denounced Him as
unsafe and dangerous ; a breaker of the Sabbath ; for had
He not, on His last visit, healed a blind man on the holy
day ?

Meanwhile, when the feast was at its height, Jesus sud-
denly made His appearance in the Temple porch, where the
Rabbis taught, and, calmly taking His seat, began to teach

1

1

:^;

AT THE FEAST, 287

the crowd that soon gathered round Him. It is not told us chap. xlix.
when He had arrived, or whether He lived for the week,
like the crowds, in a succah or booth of His own, or of a
friend: or whether He carried the lulab and citron, as
others did, round the great altar, or attended only to the
graver matters of His New Kingdom. We only know that
He showed Himself openly in the city and in the Temple
courts, under the very eyes of His eneinies. Loyalty to His
work had demanded His delay in coming, for His life was
still, needed to proclaim the New Kingdom in Jerusalem as
well as in Galilee, if it were permitted Him. He had lived
mostly in the latter, but Jerusalem was the religious centre
of the nation, and all that happened, or was spoken publicly
during one of the great feasts, would be wafted, like seeds,
to every land. As a Jew, moreover. He had a tender love
for the City of David, and of a still greater. His Heavenly
Father — a spot dear then, as now, beyond expression, to
every Israelite. Before it was for ever too late. He would
fain bring its children to listen to the things of their peace,
which He alone could tell them.

The Jewish authorities were astounded, and hardly knew
what course to take. Coming, themselves, to listen to the
fearless intruder, they were still more amazed at what they
heard. They could now understand how it had been said
of Him that He bore Himself as one who had authority
direct from God ; and not like the Rabbis, who never spoke
without quoting an authority ; and how He had made so
great a popular impression. Art and study of eflfect had no
place in His discourses ; for the copiousness and finish of a
mere rhetorician were wanting. His resistless power lay
as much in Himself as in His words : His calm dignity, and
His look of mingled purity and tenderness, confirming all
He said, as by a holy sanction. He did not merely treat of
general religious and moral truths, but spoke of quickening
facts and realities. The advent of the Kingdom of God, its
nature, and its glorious future, but above all. His own posi-
tion in it ; as its Head and King, as He in whom the Father
revealed Himself, and in whom men were to find salvation,
were the substance of His addresses. They were, in fact,

288

THE LIFB OF CHBIST.

u UUnumn,
168,169.

Ohrlfltns, 12.

CHAP. TUX, essentially a testimony respecting Himself, and a self-revela-
tion. There were no sudden and violent bursts, no brilliant
flashes, but an atmosphere of more than earthly peace rested
over both speaker and words, froni first to last.^^ The most
amazing claims were uttered, not only without a trace of
self-consciousness, but with the lowliest humility. It seemed
as if all He said was only what became Him.

But with all His humility, and in addition to His tran-
scendent dignity, the fulness of His knowledge was no less
remarkable. He was intimately familiar with all the sacred
books, and even with the honoured extra-canonical writings.
He met and confuted opinions of the Rabbis by the subtlest
and most original references to Scripture ; He pierced be-
neath its letter to the spirit; He distinguished with the
keenest acuteness between the Law, as given by God, in its
scope and essence, and the Pharisaic traditions ; and He
clothed in "the simplest language, the profoundest spiritual
truths of both the Law and the Prophets.^* Such a pheno-
menon was inexplicable.

The authorities, in amazement, could only ask themselves
how he could have such learning, when he has never studied
in the schools. Where could He have got this power of
handling the Scriptures like a great Rabbi? He was a
Galilaean, and had never attended any Teacher. Like the old
prophets He must have been " taught of God," and it was
evident that the people did not hesitate to recognize Him as
one, though the official classes were fain to decry Him, and
knew the effect of a harsh and contemptuous name. " How
could a common man like this," said they, " who has never
been educated as a Rabbi, possibly understand the Scrip-
tures ? " Against their consciences, they tried to depreciate
both Him and His teaching.

Had they shown only curious or friendly wonder, Jesus
would, perhaps, have remained silent. But it was different
when they were trying to excite doubt and suspicion against
Himself and His words, as it was clear they were doing from
what He saw and heard. A deputation from the authorities
having at last given the opportunity of reply by a direct
interrogation, He seized it at once. " Beyond doubt," said

JBSUS AT THE TEMPLE. 289

He, to paraphrase His words slightly,^^ " I have not learned ohap.xlel

in your schools what I teach. But my doctrine is not a " U^^dt,

mere invention of my own ; it is not mine at all, but His SJkef*

who has sent me. 1 only repeat what He mstructs me to ««««.*• ^c.

make known in His name. You speak as if religious truth

were a mere matter of tedious study. But it is to be learned

by obedience, rather than from books, as your own Wisdom

of Sirach tells you, ' He that keepeth the law of the Lord

getteth the understanding thereof.' ^^ It needs a heart >• wbdom 2l

wiUing to be taught of God to comprehend it ; a heart at

one with God, and eager to do His will, however contrary to

one's own. He whose soul has no love of truth, no oneness

with God, cannot recognize His truth even when he hears it.

If you had true love to God and desired to know His revealed

will, and to carry it out in your lives, you would know from

whom I have received the doctrine I teach, by its power

to purify and calm the heart, and by the hopes it gives for

the world to come. That I do not advance a doctrine of my

own invention is, moreover, clear from this, that if I did so

I should seek my own honour and advantage. But if I seek

no honour for myself, but only for Him by whom I have

been sent, it shows that I am worthy of trust. To strive

only for the glory of God is in itself a proof of being His true

mouthpiece and messenger, and I leave you to say whether

this does not apply to me. Have I ever sought honour from

men and not rather the honour of my Father alone ? Have

I not always professed to have received aU from my Father?

I have had no personal end, and it is, therefore, incredible

that I should be a deceiver, seeking to lead men astray."

The cavil of the llabbis thus answered, Jesus forthwith
took the offensive. " You charge me," said He, " with not
knowing the Law : you do not keep it You boast of your
zeal for it, and affect indignation for my having, as you assert,
broken it by healing a blind man on the Sabbath ; an indig-
nation so real that you would put me to death if you could.
But this, itself, is a violation of the Law, for the Law com-
mands love to our neighbour above even the Sabbath, and
that should be my perfect defence." He knew that the
authorities had never forgiven Him His answer, at His

VOL. n. 68

290 THE LIFE OP CHRIST.

CHAP, xux. former visit, to their charge of having broken the Sabbath
by the miracle at the pool of Bethesda, and that they were
plotting His death, even now, on account of it.

Meanwhile, the crowd, perhaps knowing less than He of
the secret designs of the hierarchy, or affecting to deny
them ; believed, or feigned to believe Him in no danger, and
broke out in angry repudiation of such a charge. They had
heard the Rabbis often ascribe His works to Beelzebub, and
fell back on the blasphemous slander as an explanation of

njoim7.2o. His language. He must have a devil. ^^ The Rabbis were
right. He was crazed. The evil spirit that spoke through
Him was trying to stir them up against their spiritual
guides.

Without noticing the interruption, Jesus continued, ad-
dressing the crowd at large, ** Your leaders are plotting to
kill me for doing an act of mercy on the Sabbath. But all
of you are in a measure guilty by your sympathy with them ;
shoAvn in your unrighteous anger at me on account of it, on
the same ground. But that you may see the injustice of
your charge, let me remind you of what often takes place
in regard to circumcision. That rite was commanded by
Moses, though it dates from Abraham, and you are so strict
in performing it at the prescribed time, the eighth day, that
you circumcise a child even on the Sabbath, if necessary, that
the law of Moses in this particular be not broken. Do you
think the Sabbath was first given on Sinai, and hence give
the older law of circumcision the preference? Or have
you, of your own accord, decided that in sbme cases the law
of the Sabbath must give way to other parts of the law ?
You accept the saying of the Rabbis, that ^circumcision
drives away the Sabbath.' But, if you perform circumcision,
with all the work it involves, on the Sabbath, without
breaking the day, how can you be angry at me, if I broke
it by a work of mercy so much more beneficial to its object
as the making a blind man whole on it? Never judge
by appearance, but look beneath the surface and judge
righteously."

But now some joined the crowd who knew of the plots of

w v«iw2«. tijg authorities against His life,^® and could not understand

JESUS AT THE TEMPLE. 291

how He should be allowed to teach thus openly without ohap.xlel

interference. His words and bearing had softened their

prejudice, and made it seem possible that the authorities

had become convinced that He was, in reality, the Messiah,

and sanctioned this course. But the mere suggestion, in the

shape of a question, was enough to raise a hot dispute

among theologians so keen. " Do not the Rabbis tell us,"

said some, " that the Messiah will be born at Bethlehem,

but that He will be snatched away by spirits and tempests

soon after His birth, and that when He returns the second

time no one will know from whence He has come ?^^ But we » ughtfoot on

know that this man comes from Nazareth. Our chief men,

if they choose, may accept Him as the Messiah ; we will not."

Jesus was still sitting in the Temple porch, teaching, but,
on hearing what was thus openly said in disparagement of
His Messiahship, He broke off His discourse, and called out
in a louder voice than He had hitherto used, to the noisy
disputants — " You do certainly, in your own sense, know
who I am, and whence I come, but in a higher sense you
know neither. I come forward as the Messiah, not of my-
self; I am sent by one whom you cannot truly know, so long
as you cling to your worldly ideas of the Messiah — ^by One
who, alone, has the right and power to send forth the
Messiah, and has done so in sending me. I know Him,
though you do not, for I have come forth from Him, and
no other than He has sent me."

His hearers at once saw what was implied in this. It was
no less than a claim to have come forth from God, and was
equivalent to asserting divine dignity, for He said nothing
of being only an angel, or embodied heavenly spirit, or
prophet raised from the dead. He had once before, after the
very miracle for which He had been so assailed, justified
Himself by saying — " My Father worketh hitherto, and I
work ;" ^^ and the words had sounded so blasphemous, that the «• oh. «. «.
authorities had sought to kill Him, because He had not only
broken the Sabbath, but had said that God was His Father,
making Himself equal with God. The hostile part of the
crowd rightly saw a similar claim repeated now, and with
the wild fanaticism of their race in that age, proposed to lay

292 THE lilFB OF CHRIST.

cHAPXLDL hold of Him, and hurry Him outside the city on the instant,
to stone Him, as the Law against blasphemy enjoined. But
His hour had not yet come, and whether from fear of the
Galilseans at the feast, or from other reasons, their rage died
away in words.

The fame of His miracles in the north had preceded Him
to Jerusalem, and was, now, further spread by the reports of
the Galilsean pilgrims, and deepened the effect of His cure of
the blind man at His last visit — the very bitterness of His
enemies having kept it fix>m being forgotten. Numbers had
thus been impressed in His favour, even before His appearance
at the feast, and not a few of these were now so far won
over by the still higher evidence of His wondrous words,
and whole air and bearing, that many felt constrained to
admit His claim to be the Messiah. Miracles had always
been held a characteristic of the Messiah's advent, and even
the bitterest enemies of Jesus did not deny His supernatural
power. It was evident that He was rapidly gaining ground,
and the hierarchy knew that if He rose they must falL If
they could arrest Him, while His adherents had not as yet
ventured on an open movement in His support, all might be
welL The Pharisees, therefore, and the Sadducean chief
priests — mortal enemies at all other times — ^hastily issued a
warrant to apprehend Him, and sent some of the Temple
police to carry it out.

The sight of the well-known dress of these officials, on the
outskirts of His audience, told the whole story to the quick
intelligence of Jesus, and with that readiness which always
marked Him, He, forthwith, began a calm and dear antici-
pation of His near death.

" I shall be with you," said He, " only a short time longer,
for I shall soon return to my Father in Heaven, who sent
me. Then the days will come when sore distress will fall upon
this city and land for rejecting me, and you will seek help and
deliverance from the Messiah, that is, from me, but ye will
not find me then. Persecuted and put to death now, ye
will then long for me in vain, when for ever gone from you,
for where I shall then be you cannot go, to fetch me from
thence as vour Saviour."

THE LAST DAT OF THE FEAST. 293

"What does He mean? " asked those round; " will He go cihap. xt.tx.
to our Greek speaking brethren — ^the Hellenists in Egypt,
or Asia Minor, or some other of the lands of the Gentiles?"®

The day passed without any attempt to apprehend Him,
nor was He disturbed again during the week. The last day of
the Feast,' known as " the Hosanna Rabba," and the " Great
Day," found Him, as each day before, doubtless, had done, in
the Temple arcades. He had gone thither early, to meet
the crowds assembled for morning prayer. It was a day of
special rejoicing. A great procession of pilgrims marched
seven times round the city, with their lulabs, music, and loud-
voiced choirs preceding, and the air was rent with shouts of
Hosanna, in commemoration of the taking of Jericho, the first
city in the Holy Land that fell into the hands of their
Fathers. Other multitudes streamed to the brook of Siloah,
after the priests and Levites, bearing the golden vessels,
with which to draw some of the water. As many as could
get near the stream drank of it amidst loud chanting of the
words of Isaiah — "Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye
to the waters," *' With joy shall we draw water from the wells
of salvation," — rising in jubilant chants on every side. The
water drawn by the priests, was, meanwhile, borne up to the
Temple, amidst the boundless excitement of a vast throng.
Such a crowd was, apparently, passing at this moment.

Rising, as the throng went by, His Spirit was moved at
such honest enthusiasm, yet saddened at the moral decay
which mistook a mere ceremony for religion. It was burning
autumn weather, when the sun had for months shone in a
cloudless sky, and the early rains were longed for as the
monsoons in India after the summer heat. Water at all
times is a magic word in a sultry climate like Palestine, but
at this moment it had a double power. Standing, therefore,
to give His words more solemnity, His voice now sounded
far and near over the throng, with soft clearness, which
arrested all: —

"If any man thirst, let him come unto me and drink,*^fi Lwibot^ii
for I wUl give him the living waters of God's heavenly
grace, of which the water you have now drawn from Siloah
is only, as your Rabbis tell you, a type. He that believes

294 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

oBAF.xjjx. in me drinks into his soul from my fulness, as from a
fountain, the riches of divine grace and truth. Nor do
they bring life to him alone who thus drinks. They become

• ^^^'i{\ in his own heart, as the whole burden of Scripture tells,^ a
zLk'u, it living spring, which shall flow forth from his lips and life in
joi»i"8.i-88. holy words and deeds, quickening the thirsty around him."^
He meant, adds St. John, that this quickening missionary
zeal and power would first show itself after the descent of
the Holy Spirit, when He Himself had entered on His glory.
Streams of holy influence, like rivers of living water, would
go forth from His Apostles through the Spirit's overflowing
fulness in their souls.

The whole discourse was now ended. The impressions it
had left were various. Many who had listened to it,
whispered to their neighbours that they were sure " This
was the Prophet to come before the Messiah." Others main-
tained He was the Messiah Himself, but this opinion led to
hot dispute. " Does the Messiah, then, come out of Naza-
reth?" asked the incredulous Rabbinists. "Does not the
Scripture say that the Christ comes of the seed of David,
and from Bethlehem, the village where David was ? " But
the division in the crowd was the safety of Jesus, for those
who were fiercest to lay hands on Him as a blasphemer and
Sabbath-breaker were afraid to do so, so strong did the
party seem which supported Him.

The Temple police sent to arrest Him had remained near,
to the close, to watch their opportunity. But the power
and majesty of His discourse, which had spell-bound so
many others, had overawed and impressed even them, so
that they dared not touch him, and went back to their
masters empty-handed. To the angry demand for an
explanation, they could only answer, "Never man spake as
this man speaks." The Pharisees in the Council — ^the special
guardians of the public orthodoxy — ^professed themselves
shocked at such disloyalty on the part of men entrusted
with the commission of the high ecclesiastical court. " How
can you be so led away ? Do you not see that only some of
the ignorant rabble believe in Him? Have any men of
position — any members of the Council, or any Rabbis— done

NICODEMUS. 295

so ? They are qualified to judge on such matters ; but as oharxlcl
for the rabble, who have accepted such a transgressor as the
Messiah, it shows that they do not know the Law, and are
therefore accursed of God."

One faint voice only was heard in the Council in hesitating
defence of Jesus. It was that of Nicodemus — His visitor by
night on His first appearance. "I know, sirs, you are
zealous for the Law, and rightly condemn those who are
ignorant of it. But does the Law sanction our thus con-
demning a man before it has heard Him, and found exactly
what He has done ? " He had not moral courage to take a
side, but could not withhold a timid word. Like all weak
men, he found little favour for his faint-hearted caution.
" Are you, also, like Jesus, out of Galilee," they asked, " that
you believe in Him ; only ignorant Galilaeans do so ? Search
the Scriptures, and you will see that no Galilaean was ever
inspired as a prophet by God : the race is despised of the
Highest, and is it likely it should give Jerusalem the
Messiah?"

In their blind rage they forgot that, at least, Jonah, and
Hosea, and Nahum, were Galilaeans, and they ignored the
fact that if the followers of Jesus were mostly from the
illiterate north. He had also not a few even from the sons of
bigoted Jerusalem.

296 THE LIEE 07 CHfilST.

CHAPTER L.

APTEE THE FEAST.

OHAP. L. A LL who attended the Feast of Tabernacles were required
-^ to sleep in the city the first night at least, but were
free afterwards to go any distance outside, within the limit
of a Sabbath day's journey. Jesus, accustomed to the pure
air of the hills and open country, and with little sympathy
for the noise and merriment, or for the crowds and confusion,
of the great holiday, was glad to avail Himself of this free-
dom, and went out, each night, after leaving the Temple, to
seek sleep in the house of some friend on the Mount of
John a 1-11. Olives ; ^ perhaps to that of the family of Bethany, of which
we hear so much soon after this. The early morning,
however, saw Him always at His post in the Temple courts ;
now in the royal porch ; now in the court of the women,
through which the men passed to their own.

The vast concourse of people from all countries, and the
general excitement and relaxation of the season, had gradu-
ally led to abuses. Pilgrimages, in all ages, have had an
indifferent name for their influence on morals, and the
yearly feasts at Jerusalem were likely no exception.

A large number of people had already gathered round
Jesus, when a commotion was seen in the women's court,
where He had sat down to teach. A woman of the humbler
class had been guilty of immorality, and the Scribes,
on the moment, saw in her sin a possible snare for the
hated Galilaean. It was not their business, but that of her
husband, to accuse her ; nor could she be legally punished,
except by divorce, if he, himself, were not a man of pure
life. It was the custom, however, in cases of difficulty, to
consult a famous Rabbi, and advantage was taken of this, to

THE SINFUL WOMAN. 297

entrap Jesus, if possible, by asking Him to adjudicate on the ohap. i*
case. If He condemned her, and insisted that she should be
stoned to death,^ it would injure Him in the eyes of the * SS^JJi^Si^
people, for the Law, in this particular, had long been obsolete,
from the very commonness of the offence. If, on the other
hand, He simply dismissed her, they could charge Him with
slighting the Law, for it was still formally binding. To
condemn her to death, would, moreover, bring Him under
the Roman law, as an invasion of the right of the governor.

Leading forward their trembling prisoner — unveiled, and
exposed before the crowd of men — ^the bitterest degradation
to an Eastern woman — they set her before Jesus, and asked
with feigned humility—

"Teacher, this woman has been guilty of sin. Now
Moses, in the Law, charged us that such should be stoned.
What is your opinion ?"

Knowing their smooth dissimulation. He instinctively felt
that this mock respect was a mere cloak for sinister designs.
Yet the incident threw Him into a moment's confusion.
His soul shrank from the spectacle thus brought before Him,
and in His stainless purity He could not bear to look on the
fallen one. Stooping down, therefore, at once to hide the
blush He could not prevent, and to show that He would
have nothing to do with such a matter. He began to write
on the dust before Him — ^most likely the very words He
was presently to utter. Had they chosen to read them, they
might have spared themselves the open exposure that
followed. But they were too occupied with their plot to
read the warning, and again and again repeated the question,
to force Him to answer. At last, raising His face for a
moment and looking straight at them, He said —

" Let him, among you, who is free from sin of alike kind,
cast the first stone at her, as is required of the chief witness,

byM0SeS."» -JJ^ntlllMO;

It was an age of deep immorality, and the words of Jesus
went to their consciences. He had again stooped and begun
to write, as soon as He had spoken, perhaps to remind them
how sin, when followed by penitence, is effaced for ever, like
characters written in dust. Meanwhile, their own bosoms

298 THB LIFE OF CHRIST.

OHAP.L. became their judges. One after another, beginning at the
oldest among them, moved off, to the very last, and Jesus
was left alone, with the woman, in the midst of the crowd.

Rising once more, and finding only the woman left. He
asked her —

" Woman, where are thine accusers ? Did no one con-
demn thee, by casting a stone at thee ?"
" No one. Lord."

*' Neither," said He, " shall I. I come not to condemn,

but to save. I am no criminal judge, either to sentence or

« p»ni™L4io. acquit. Go, repent of thy guilt, and sin no more."*

LSStooJ^ * His enemies had often murmured at the pity and favour

BoMomiiiter, Hc had showu to the fallen aod outcast. They knew how

SS^t^toc. He had let one sinful woman wash His feet with her tears,

Sw ti-l?' and wipe them with her loose hair ; how He had eaten with

publicans and sinners, and how He even had a publican

among His disciples. They had hoped to use all this against

Him, but, once more, their schemes had only turned to their

own shame. He had given no opinion for the obsolete law,

or against it : their own consciences had set the offender

free.*

This incident past. He began His discourse again to those
round Him. He stiU sat in the court of the women, or, as it
was sometimes called, "the treasury," from the thirteen
brazen chests for offerings, with their trumpet-hke mouths,
» aodwyB,e«. opening through the wall of its buildings.* The court was
the great thoroughfare to that of the Israelites, which was
reached from it by the fifteen steps leading to the great
gate.

In the address of the day before. He had spoken of
Himself as alone having the water of life for the thirst of the
souL " To give water to drink," was a common phrase for
teaching and explaining the Law, and hence its meaning,
« Nork,i68. when used by our Lord, was familiar to all His hearers.^
Water, in such a climate, was the first necessary of life, and
flowing, or living, waters pictured, at once, every image ot
joy and prosperity. But the mighty light, filling the
heavens — ^the first-born creation of God — ^lifts the thoughts
from individual benefit to that of the whole race, for light is

CHRIST THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD. 299

the condition and source of all else, alike to nature and man. ohap. l.
It was the characteristic of Jesus to make everything round
Him, in creation or common life. His texts and illustrations.
The shouts of the multitude, as they brought up the golden
vessel of water from Siloam, had introduced the discourse on
the living waters. Round the court in which He now sat,
rose the great candelabra, in whose huge cups the illumina-
tions of the feasts were kindled, that banished night from the
city, and in whose brightness the multitudes found darkness
changed to day, and these He now used as a text.

Pointing to them, and, from them, to the glorious sun, just
risen over the Mount of Olives, and shining with dazzling
splendour on the white houses of the city and the marble
and gold of the Temple walls and gates. He began a new
discourse, in language, which, from the lips of a Jew, was
a direct claim to be the Messiah.**

" I am The Light of the World," said He—" that is, of the
whole race of man ! " Such words from One who was humility
itself — One acknowledged by all to have unbounded super-
natural power at His command, yet so self-restrained that
He never used it for His own advantage, and was so
unassuming and lowly that even the weakest and poorest
felt perfectly free to approach Him — were uttered with a
calm dignity which vouched their truth. "In me dwells
divine truth," He continued, " and from me it shines forth,
like the light, to all mankind. He who becomes my true
disciple, and follows me sincerely, will no longer walk in the
darkness of ignorance and sin, which is the death of the
soul, but in the light of everlasting life, given to the children
of the Messiah's kingdom."

Some partisans of the Rabbinical party, who remained to
watch Him, listened with eager attention to every word.
Enraged at the failure of the last attempt to entrap Him, what
they had now heard, which was far beyond what any prophet
had ever claimed for Himself, deepened their bitterness.

" You make yourself judge in your own favour," said they.
" You require us to believe you, on your own word. It is
too much to ask. A man's witness on his own behalf is
worthless."

800 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

CHAP. L. " I do not make myself witness in my own favour, replied
Jesus. " Your rule does not apply to me, for I speak not
for myself alone, but as the mouthpiece of Him from whom
I came, and to whom I shall soon return. If you knew who
He was, you would be forced to receive His testimony to me.
But you do not know Him, and therefore you reject it, for
you know neither whence I came nor whither I shall return.
I know, and must know, best, whose messenger I am, and
what commission He has given me. You have no right to
accuse me as a deceiver, for you are not in a position to judge
of me, since you know nothing of my mission. You look
at me with jaundiced eyes, and judge only by my lowly,
outward appearance, and are thus misled. I, by myself,
judge neither in my own favour, nor against any one, for I
have come not to condemn, but to save. If, indeed, in any
case, I seem to judge, as in this instance respecting my
commission, it is not I, alone, who do so, but I and my
Father who has sent me judge together, and thus the judg-
ment must be true. I am not alone ; the Father who sent
» DeatiT.e. me is with me, and thus, even by your own Law,^ by which
the testimony of two men is received as true, that which I
offer for myself is more than sufficient, for I offer you my
own word, and no one can convict me of untruthfulness, and
also the witness of My Father. He witnesses for me by
the very truths I utter, and by the miracles you admit I
perform."

"Where is, then, this second witness. Thy Father? ** re-
torted His adversaries. " We do not see Him. He must be
here, if, as you say, He is a witness for you ? " He had too
often spoken of God as His Father to permit of any mistake
as to His meaning, but they affected to misunderstand Him.
With perfect calmness, Jesus replied, " You ask who is my
Father, and do not know me, myself. I cannot answer you
tiU you have juster conceptions of me. If you looked at
me, my teaching, and my deeds, in a right light, you would
know who my Father is, for He reveals Himself in me. But
your hearts are now so prejudiced, that you would not
understand what I might tell you, either of myself or of
Him, were I to attempt it.'*

L

DISCOUBSE OF JESUS. 301

These were bold words in such a place ; the very strong- ohap. l.
hold of His enemies ; but as He finished and rose to depart,
no one laid hands on Him. His hour was not yet come.

A fi[tigment of another discourse delivered like this in the
Temple, on one of the following days, has been preserved.®* john 8.21.
The immediate circumstances preceding are not recorded, but
there must have been another dispute with His enemies. A
fresh attempt to win them, followed ; with solemn warnings
of the results of their finally rejecting Him,

'' The time approaches," said He, in efifect, *^ when I shall
leave you, and when I am gone you will seek me, that is,
you will cry out for the Messiah, but in vain, and wiU look
for Him without success ; you will fain be delivered from
the calamities that will come on you ; but you will die, un-
pardoned and unsanctified, with your sins on your souls, —
die here, and die for ever ; for your seeking me, that is, the
Messiah, will not be from faith and repentance, but only a
despairing cry for deliverance from temporal distress. You
cannot hope to be able to go up to heaven, to find and bring
me down as your Saviour. I shall be gone from you for
ever.

" WiU He kill Himself?" asked one of the bitterest among
the bystanders, with blasphemous irony. " In that case, cer-
tainly, we shall not be able to follow Him, or willing either,
to where He will go I "

Taking no notice of the coarse insulting jest, Jesus went
on to point out, calmly, and with surpassing dignity, that
they spake as they did only because they could not compre-
hend Him or His sayings, coming as He did from above.
" You spring from the earth, I from heaven ; your natures
and hearts, in keeping with your origin, are without the
higher wisdom and divine life of those who are born of God.
You have the thoughts and ideas of this age ; I speak those
of the New Kingdom of God. It was on this ground I said
to you, that you would die in your sins, for only faith
in me, as the Messiah, can raise those who are not bom from
above, gross fleshly souls, born only of the flesh, to higher
divine life, in time and eternity. If you do not believe that
I am He, you shall certainly die in your sins."

302 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

CHAP. L. " I am He," was the sum of Jehovah's self-proclamation in
the Old Testament, and it was now repeated, in its lofty
majesty, by Jesus, of His own Messianic dignity. He could
assume that the question of the Messiah was the ever-present
and supreme thought of all His hearers. The one point
was whether He, or another yet to come, were the Expected
One.

The Rabbinists perfectly understood Him, but would not
acknowledge that they did so, and asked Him contemptuously,
"Who art Thou, then?"

" I am what I have said from the beginning of my min-
istry I was, — how can you still ask? I have much to say
respecting you, much especially to blame ; but I refrain, and
confine myself to my immediate mission, — to proclaim to
mankind what I have received from Him who sent me."
Strange as it might seem, though He had used similar terms
so often that the allusion to God was generally recognized at
once, His hearers did not in this instance understand Him

Seeing their hesitation. He continued, — " Had you acknow-
ledged me as the Messiah, you would have understood what
I have said of my Father. But when you have crucified
me, you will know that I am He, and that I never act alone,
but speak only what I have heard from my Father, before I
came into the world. My glory, which will be revealed after
I die, will force you to realize this." He referred to the
future descent of the Holy Spirit after His resurrection, —
the miracles of the Apostles, the spread of His Kingdom, the
judgment of God on the nation, and His final return in the
clouds of heaven at the last day. "My Father who sent me,"
He continued," has not left me alone, though you do not sec
Him, but have before you only a lowly man, in the midst of
enemies ; He is ever with me, for I do always the things that
please Him."

These lofty words must have been wondrously borne out
by His whole air, and by the calm truth and heavenliness of
His tone and looks ; for, instead of revolting His hearers by
the contradiction between claims so awful, and Him who
made them, which we instinctively feel there must have
been, had they been uttered by sinful men like ourselves.

DISCOURSE OF JESUS. 303

they won many to believe in Him, there and then, as the chap, i*
Messiah.

It is impossible not to feel that such words were a distinct
claim of absolute sinlessness, on which no mere man could for
a moment venture. Yet in His mouth they seemed only the
fitting expression of evident truth. Nor is it possible to exag-
gerate their importance. When we remember how entirely
His whole life was devoted to the enforcement of the purest
morals even in the domain of thought and conscience, they
acquire a significance that awes the mind. Such an
absolute purity implied the keenest discrimination between
good and evil, holiness and sin. "To please God," was with
Him no empty phrase, but implied a divine holiness in
the very fountains of being ; pure as the light of a morning
without clouds. Yet His language respecting Himself was
always the same. The greatest saints are most ready to
bewail their unworthiness, but He never for a moment hiun-
bles Himself before God for sin ; never asks pardon for it ;
and not only makes no approach to expressing a sense of
needing repentance and for^veness, but calmly takes on
Himself the divine prerogative of forgiving the sins of men.
The Ideal of humility, and truth, and holy life. He must have
known His own spiritual state with exact fidelity, for the
passing of even an unworthy thought over such a soul,
would have instantly clouded its peace and joy. Yet, with
this perfect self-knowledge. He could calmly claim that His
Father saw in Him only His own image of perfect holiness,
which alone can please Him.^ • uinnaaii, ra,

The overpowering impression produced on His hearers,
was, however, too sudden and superficial for permanence.

Resuming His discourse, therefore. He continued, — ad-
dressing those who, for the moment, in spite of themselves,
believed on Him, — "If your present professions be deep and
lasting, and you continue permanently in the same mind ;
acknowledging me as the Messiah, and carrying out my
teaching in your hearts and lives, you wiU be my disciples
indeed. You will then, by experience, know the power and " SJ^^MSriS'-a
worth of the divine truths of my Person and teaching, for jST^iw-
my words are the truth, and the truth will make you free."^°° SrBS&Jt

K>n*B Ser-
moiii^l,2.6&

304 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

CHAR L. He spoke, of course, of spiritual freedom : of emancipation
from a sinful life by the elevating and purifying influence
of their new faith ; but, like Nicodemus with the new birth,
or the Samaritan woman with the living water, or the Twelve
with the leaven of the Pharisees, they understood the word
only of political liberty, and in a moment showed how
little they understood their new Master's spirit. Their fierce
Jewish pride was instantly in a blaze.

"Freel what do you mean? " said they. ** We are the
descendants of Abraham ; the race to whom God gave the
promise of being the first of nations — His chosen people.
We have never been in bondage to any. What do you
mean ? " They conveniently forgot the episodes of Egypt
and Babylon, and thought of the shadow of political liberty

w B6iL jud. Tt they enjoyed under the prudent Romans, ^^ by the retention of
their own laws, as in the protected States of India under
Britain. It was an oflfence punishable with excommunica-

w ELMnmeDeor, tiou for ouc Jcw to Call another a slave,^^ and part of their
morning prayer, even when under a foreign yoke, ran thus —
" Blessed be the Lord our God, King of the Universe, who
has made me a free man."

But Jesus answered — '' With all earnestness, let me tell
you that every one who commits sin is under the power of
sin — a slave under that of his master. I speak of spiritual
liberty, not of political. You have need of the help I can
and will give you, if you desire to free yourself from
this moral slavery — ^the bondage to your ow^n sinful incli-
nations and habits. You are slaves in the great household
of God, not sons, and the slave has no claim to remain
always in the household : it is in the power of his lord to
sell him to another, or to put him out, when he pleases. All
men, whether Jews or others, are sinners, and as such, slaves
of their sin, and must be made free, before they can claim, as
you do, to belong of right to the household of God. He
will not treat the slaves of sin as His sons, but ^yiR turn them
out of His kingdom as a lord drives out an unworthy
slave. But I, the* Son of God, abide in God's household, as
His Son, for ever, and, hence, if, by the truth I proclaim,
and the grace I secure you, I free you from slavery to sin,

DISCOUBSE OF JESUS. 305

you will be really free ; not outwardly only, and in name, as 0°^- ^
now. Were I not to be always, as His Son, in the House-
hold of God, my Father — ^you might doubt my power, or
fear because of my absence ; but my presence there for ever
gives you perfect security that the freedom I offer -will be
real and abiding. I know that you are descended from
Abraham, but it is only in a bodily sense. If you were his
spiritual sons, you would believe in me; but, now, in spite
of your passing belief, I see that you have turned against
me abeady, and gone back to those who would kill me.
Need I say that you act thus only because my teaching had
no real hold on your hearts ? I have told you what I have
seen when I was still with my Father ; but you act according
to the teaching of your father."

" Our father," interrupted some, " is Abraham," — ^for they
saw that He meant something else. " If ye were in the true
sense," replied Jesus — "not in mere outward descent — the
sons of Abraham, you would imitate Abraham ; to do so is
the only descent from him of worth before God. But you
seek to kill me — a man who has spoken to you the truth,
which I have received from God for your good : because it
humbles your pride and self-righteousness. Abraham would
never have acted thus. He received and rejoiced in the truth
as revealed to him, though it was far less clear than my words
have made it to you. The fact is, I repeat, with unutterable
sadness, you act as your father teaches you."

"What do you mean?" cried out a number at a time.
"You say. that Abraham is not our father — who is our
father, then?" Do you mean that Sarah, our mother, was
unfaithful to Abraham, and that he was only in name our
father, not in fact ? We have only one father, not twOy as
they have who are born from adultery, and if you deny it is
Abraham J it must be God."

" If God were your father, you would love me," quietly
replied Jesus, "for I am the Very Son of God, proceeding,
in my Being, from Him, and descending from heaven to
mankind. I have not come from any personal and private
act of my own, but as the Messiah sent forth by the Father.
You cannot understand what I say, because your hearts

VOL. IL 69

306 THE UFE OF CHRIST.

OHAP. L. are so gross that you have no ears for my teaching : it is
dark to you because you are morally blind. So far from
being the spiritual children of Abraham, far less of God,
you are children of the devil; and, true to your nature,
ye copy your father. From the beginning of the human
race he was a murderer, and put away the truth from him,
because there is no truth in him. The devil is a liar by
nature, and lives in lies, and knows nothing, in his heart,
of truth, and his children are liars like their father — that
is, they thrust away the truth from them, as you are
doing now.

" Because I speak the truth, and do not seek, like Satan,
to win you to evil, by flattering your self-deception and
sins, you do not believe me. Yet, would I deceive you ?
Who of you can convict me of sin ? But if I be sinless, I
can have no untruthfulness — no lie^ — ^in me, and, therefore,
what I speak must be truth and truth only. Hence I
am right in saying you cannot be the children of God, for
he that is of God hears God's words — ^that is, hears me, for
I speak the words of God. That you are not really the
children of God, though you call yourselves such, explains
w onmiiiii, 166. why you do not believe in me." ^®

" That proves what we said of you," interrupted some of
the crowd. " Such language about your own nation shows
that we were right in saying that you were a Samaritan ^ —
an enemy of the true people of God, and possessed with a
devil."

" I have not a devil," replied Jesus ; " I honour my

Father by these very words, for they tend to the glory
of God. As He has taught me, so I teach you, when
I say that the wicked are servants and children of the
deviL Yet, though I speak not from my own authority,
but that of God, you do me. His messenger, the great dis-
honour of saying I have a devil. But I shall not attempt
to refute the slander, for I care nothing for either your
approval or praise. There is one here — ^my Father —
who cares for my honour, and will judge those who con-
temn me. Would that none of you expose yourselves
to His wrath 1 May you rather receive from Him life

4

I

"bBFORB ABRAHAM WAS, I AM." 807

eternal! Once more, let me repeat, He that believes in me, cdarl,
and obeys my words, shall never taste death."

As usual, the hearers put a material sense on these words,
and understood them of natural death ; taking it as a proof
of their assertion that He had a devil — that He could pro-
mise any one that he should never die. " Even Abraham
died," they continued, " and so did the prophets. Whom do
you make yourself? You put yourself above all men, even
the greatest. Abraham could not ward off death, nor could
the prophets. Do you claim to be greater than they ? "

"If I, for mere desire of glory," i^eplied Jesus, " were to
boast of being greater than Abraham, such glory would be
idle. If what I have said tends to exalt me, it is not I who
honour myself, but my Father, by whose authority I act
and speak that honours me — My Father, of whom you say
He is your God. If you fail to see how He constantly does
so, it is because, in spite of your calling yourselves His
people, you have not known Him. But I know Him, as only
His Son can. If I were to say that I did not know Him, and
speak His Words, I should be like yourselves, untruthful ;
but I both know Him, and keep aU His commands, for my
whole life is obedience to Him.

" But that you may know that I really am greater than
even Abraham — the Friend of God — let me tell you that
Abraham, when he received, with such joy, the promise
that the Messiah should come from his race, and bless all
nations, was rejoicing that He would, hereafter, from
Heaven, see my day, and He has seen my appearing, from
His abode in Paradise, and exulted at it."

The crowd, gross as usual, understood these words of
Abraham's earthly life, and fancied that Jesus was now
claiming to have been alive so long ago as the time of
Abraham, and to have known him.

" It is two thousand years ago since Abraham's day,**
broke in a voice, " and you are not fifty years old yet; do
you mean to say you have seen Abraham ? "

" I mean to say," replied Jesus, "far more than even that
Let me teU you, with the utmost solemnity, — ^before Abraham
was bom, I Am."

808 THE LIFE OF CHBI8T.

CHAR t. This was the very phrase in which Jehovah had announced

Msn)d.t.u Himself to Israel in Egypt.^^ It implied a continnous ex-

u uktoand istence from the beginning,^ as if the speaker had claimed

^^jW^-j^ to be, Himself the Uncreated EtemaL Abraham had come

into being, but He had existence in Himself^ without a

beginning.

His hearers instantly took it in this august meaning, and
Jesus, the Truth, made no attempt, then or afterwards, to
undeceive theuL Utterly turned against Him, they rushed
hither and thither, in wild fmaticism, for stones, with which
to put Him to death as a blasphemer. Many of those used in
the building of parts of the Temple, still incomplete, lay
M A]iLniL9.t. in piles at different parts.^^ But Jesus hid Himself among
the crowd, some of whom were less hostile, and, in the con-
fusion, passed out of the sacred precincts, to safety.

I

<ff

i

THE LAST MONTH OF THE TEAB. 809

CHAPTER LI.

THE LAST MONTH OF THE TEAB.

PRUDENCE demanded that Jesus should for a time with- °^"-
draw from Jerusalem after the outbreak of murderous
fanaticism in the Temple courts, and He would be the more
inclined to this because Judea had, as yet, had so small a
share in His ministry. The unmeasured religious pride
which had resisted any impression in His first lengthened
visit, might possibly yield, in some cases, after the incidents
of His work in Galilee and Jerusalem, and doubtless did so ;
perhaps, in more instances than we suspect. But whatever
the success. He could not leave the special home-land of
Israel without one more attempt to win it to the New King-
dom of God. Hence the next months, till after the Feast of
Dedication, in December, were spent either in Jerusalem or
Judea.

In these last weeks of His life Jesus found a home, from
time to time, in the bosom of a village family in Bethany,
on the east side of the Mount of Olives. When He first
came to know them is not told : perhaps they were among
the few fruits of his former sojourn in Judea ; possibly the
family of him who is known in the Gospels as Simon the
Leper ; ^ one of the converts of the early Judean labours, « uuk u. s.
in gratitude for his miraculous cure. Bethany is easily Johni8.i.
reached from Jerusalem. The flight of steps on the east
side of the Temple, before the Golden Gate, led to the
quiet valley of the Kedron. A bridge over the sometimes
dry channel of the stream opened into a camel path, rising,
past Gethsemane, in a slow and gentle ascent over the brow
of the hill which lies between the Mount of Olives and that
which Pompey had defiled by his camp ; called, from this, the

310 THE UFB OF CHBIST.

oHAP.LL Hill of Offence. To save distance, however, a footway ran
from Gethsemane over the top of Olivet, and this, travellers
a-foot, like Jesus, for the most part preferred to the other
easier but more circuitous road. Descending the eastern
slope, a few steps led from the bare hill-side, with its scattered,
prickly shrubs, to a sweet dell, rich in fig, almond, and olive
trees, through which wound a road, here and there cut out
in the side of the hilL Ascending the east end of the deU,
Bethany lay close in sight, only three-quarters of an hour's
distance from Jerusalem, but hidden from it by a spur of
the Mount of Olives. The ruins of a tower rise, now, over
the highest point of the village, but they are of later date
than the days of our Lord. The houses, whitewashed and
flat-roofed, lie hidden among the surrounding heights,
amidst green fields and trees of many kinds ; all the more
charming, as the eastern side of Mount Olivet, the back-
ground to the picture, is much more barren and dreary
than the western.

In this sequestered spot, on the edge of the great wilder-
ness of Judea, Jesus found a delightful retreat in the vine-
covered cottage of Martha and Mary and their brother
Lazarus. Loving and beloved, it always offered a peaceful
retirement from the confusion and danger of the Temple
courts, or the stiU more exhausting circuits of His wider
southern journeys. It was the one spot, so far as we know,
that He could call home in these last months, but it was
apparently the sweetest, and most like home. He had ever had.
The household consisted of two sisters, and a brother —
Martha, Mary, and Lazarus — ^names which mark the trans-
ition-character of the times ; for, while "Martha" was the
unchanged native equivalent of "lady," "Mary" and
" Lazarus" were Greek forms of the old Hebrew " Miriam "
and "Eleazer." May we trace, in this superiority to narrow
conservatism, a liberality in their parents, which led both
them and their children to receive the Galilaean teacher so
readily and so fondly ? They had evidently been disciples
before this last stay in Judea ; likely from the time of their
now dead father, who had, doubtless, often talked over his
doubts or reasons for loving trust, in their company.

MABTHA AND HABY. 311

Martha appears to have been the head of the little house- chap, ll
hold, and may have been, as many have believed, a widow.^ • S^m^™
The family seems to have had a good social position, and to ^;SdSte
have been above the average in circumstances.^ The char- , IJ^^^ ^^
acter of the two sisters shows itself vividly in the first notice.* J^ S' J, s.
Martha shares the piety of her sister, but fails, at first, to*« l^w-mL
rise to such a high conception of the nature and dignity of ^
their wondrous Friend as her sister, and is busied with the
practical cares of life to an extent that seems to Him exces- .
sive. Amiably anxious for the comfort of her guest, she is
absorbed in ever}' detail of hospitality which she thinks
likely to please Him, while Mary sits at His feet, to listen to
His words and watch His every look. The busy, motherly
Martha, seeing Mary thus seemingly idle, feels a passing
jealousy and annoyance, unworthy of her calmer self — ^for a
word to her sister would doubtless have been enough — ^and
comes impatiently with a complaint to Jesus, not free
from irreverence. " Lord," says she, " do you not care that
my sister has left me to do all the work alone ? If you
speak to her, she will help me." As if to imply that she
would pay no attention to Martha's words.

The gentle calmness of Jesus, too grateful to both for
their loving tenderness to overlook the good in each, had
only the tenderest reply. " Martha, Martha, said He, " my
wants are easily satisfied, and it is, besides, better, like Mary,
to choose the one thing needful above all — supreme concern
for the things of God — for they alone can never be taken
from us." Of Lazarus, before his death, we only know that
his spirit and temper were such that Jesus made him, in
an especial manner. His friend.^

An incident of this period is preserved by St. Luke. In
one of our Lord's journeys in the neighbourhood of Jeru-
salem, a Rabbi,^ skilled in the Mosaic Law / and, as such, a* m»io.
public teacher and interpreter of the Rabbinical rules, rising
from his seat among his students, as Jesus passed, resolved
to show his wisdom at the expense of the hated Galilaean ;
and trap Him, if possible, into some doubtful utterance.
" Teacher," asked he, " what shall I do to inherit eternal life ?
We know what the Rabbis enjoin, but what sayest Thou ?"

• DeutCft.
h8W.19.lB.

312 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

OHARLL "What is written in the Law?" replied Jesus, "how
readest thou? For the law of God alone can detennine
such a matter."

Quoting a passage which every Jew repeated in each
morning and evening's prayer, and wore in the little text-
boxes of his phylactery, he answered glibly, "Thou shalt
love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy
soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind, and
thy neighbour as thyself." *

" You are quite right," said Jesus. " Do this, and you
shall Uve."

The answer hardly left room for anything further ; but
the questioner would not be balked of an opportunity of
showing his acuteness, and, perhaps, of drawing Jesus into a
difficulty. No command was so plain as not to furnish
subjects for dispute to hair-splitting theologians of his class ;
and, in this case, there had been endless wrangling in the
Rabbinical schools on the definition of the word "neigh-
bour." Jesus, moreover, as was well known, held very
broad views on the subject ; views utterly heterodox in the
eyes of the* schools. Determined not to let conversation
drop, the questioner, therefore, opened it afresh.

" But you have not told me," said he, " who is my neigh-
bour. Pray do so, else I may fail in my duty."

Instead of answering him directly, Jesus replied, in the
fashion of the Rabbis themselves, by a parable, which I
amplify, for its clearer understanding.

"A certain man," said He, "went down from Jerusalem
to Jericho. You know the way, so steep, wild, and danger-
ous : well called the Bloody Road, for who can tell how
many robberies and murders have happened on it in these
unsettled times, when the country is full of men driven from
r BeiL jnd !▼. their homcs by oppression and misery ? ^ As he went on, a
•dj«.».2. band of robbers from the wild gorges through which the
road sinks, rushed out upon him; stripped him, for he was
a poor man, with only his clothes to take from him; beat
him when he resisted ; and then made oflF, leaving him half

dead.

" As he lay, bleeding, insensible, and naked, on the rough

THE GOOD SAMABITAN. 313

•

stones^ a priest, who lived at Jericho, like so many more, chap.ll
and had finished his course at the Temple, went past. He
was busy reading the copy of the Law, which all priests
carry with them ; but as he came near and saw the wounded
and seemingly dying man, he hastily crossed over, and
passed, on the other side of the road, afraid of defiling
himself by blood, or by the touch of one perhaps unclean.

"Soon after, aLevite, also from the Temple, came by, and
he, when he saw the injured man, stepped over to him, and
stood for a time looking at him,® but presently crossed the • seeftflneser-
road again, as if he had been polluted, and went on in all ^^^ i. 57.
haste, lest the like should happen to himself.

" But a Samaritan, travelling that way, came where the
poor man lay, and, when he saw him, was moved with com-
passion at his misery ; and went to him, and, lighting from
his ass, bound up his wounds, after pouring oil mixed with
wine^ on them, to assuage the pain, and soften the injured • iHiBbi.e.
parts ; and set him on his own beast, never thinking who
he might be he was helping ; whether Jew, heathen, or
fellow-countryman; or of his own danger in such a spot; and
brought him to the khan, which, you know, stands at the
road-side, amidst the bare walls of rocks, three hours from
Jerusalem. ^^ There he had every care taken of him, and »• Pniwr, 14a
stayed with him, tending him through the night. His own
business forced him to leave him next day ; but before doing
so, he went to the keeper of the khan, and gave him two
denarii, ^^ tellinff him to take care of him, and adding, that if" Eqn»i,topur.
more were needed, he would give it when he came back. wTO'Sf^**'

" Which of these three, do you think, was neighbour to t^.^^d.
him that fell among the robbers ? " St, m/t.

The Rabbi, true to his national hatred, would not utter
the hated word, " the Samaritan." " He that had mercy on
him, no doubt," said he.
' "Go and do thou in like manner," replied Jesus, and left

him ; if humbled and mortified ; it is to be hoped, a wiser
! and better man.

I A fragment of the familiar instructions of these months,

by which Jesus daily trained His disciples, is preserved to us
by St. Luke.^2 jj^ had, at an earlier period, given the Twelve » i^n.

314 THE IJFB OF CHBI8T.

OHAK IX and His other hearers, a model of prayer in the Sermon on
the Mount, but now, one, perhaps of the later disciples,
asked for a form of prayer such as other Rabbis, and as
John, gave their followers. With the gentle repetition we
so often find in the Gospels, Jesus, forthwith, once more
recited the model He had ah^ady given, and took advantage
of the request, to enforce the value of prayer by similar
assurances of answer from God as He had given before. In
one detail, however. He varied His language, by adding a
brief and pointed parable.

"You know," said He, "how it is with men. If any of
you have a friend, and go to him in the middle of the night,
and call through the door, * Friend, lend me three loaves,
for a friend of mine has just come to my house from a
journey ; the weather was so hot, he could not start till the
cool of the day; this has made him so late ; and I have
nothing to set before him ;' most likely he whom you thus
disturb will say to you from within, ' Trouble me not ; the
door is locked for the night, and my children are with me
in bed, and I cannot wake them. I cannot get up and give
you what you ask.' Yet, if you refuse to leave and keep
renewing your request, he wiU, in the end, rise and give
you as many loaves as you need, yielding to your importu-
nity, what he would not do for you as his friend.

" If, now, selfish men listen to those who thus will not take
a denial, how much more surely will the Grod of love listen
to humble and persistent prayer ? Be sure, therefore, that
they who, with earnest, believing, souls, seek the supply
of spiritual wants for themselves, or others, will assuredly
have their petitions heard."

While He was still in Jerusalem and its neighbourhood,
the Seventy, having fulfilled their mission, made their
»» Lnke 10. way back to Him.^^ Like the Twelve, they returned in great
joy at their success, and reported that even the devils had
been subject to them, through their Master's name, though
they had received no special power over them, such as He
had given to the Twelve. It was a moment of calm triumph
to Jesus, as the sure anticipation of infinitely greater results
hereafter. His spirit caught the conta^on of their gladness

17—24.

SATAN CAST OUT. 815

and gloom and despondency were forgotten in the ^ision of ohap^ll
the future triumph of the New Kingdom— His one all-
absorbing thought. But there was a danger lest their very
success might injure them. The consideration it had won
them might tend to imworthy pride. It was needful to
warn them, and moderate their self-confidence.

" You need not wonder/' said He, " that Satan is not able
to withstand you. Long ere now, I foresaw, in spirit, that
he would fall like a lightning-flash from the height of his
power, at my coming, and the putting forth of my might.
He has fallen, now, to the earth, where his craft and designs
can be seen and met. His sway is already broken by the
new-begun Kingdom of Grod. It has struck him down, as it
were, from the sky, with its secrecy and sudden surprises ;
and he is, now, as if seen, and easy to shun. I have broken
his sceptre, and made it possible for you to do what you
have done. Take heed, therefore, not to think too much of
yourselves, as if the success were your own. I now give
you far greater power than any you have yet enjoyed. You
will, hereafter, tread all satanic powers — ^the serpents and
scorpions of helP* — ^under your feet, as victors tread under m ABituriiiiaii
foot their conquered foes, and nothing will be sufifered to
hinder your triumph as my servants. You need not,
therefore, fear Satan.

" Yet success over the enemy of souls is not that in which
you should rejoice most. It may raise pride, and make you
too secure. Rather rejoice that your names, as my disciples,
are in the roll of citizens of the Kingdom of Heaven. It is
an infinitely greater honour than any outward respect these
wonders could bring you."^^ u Binjd. ▼. az^

The murderous outburst, from which Jesus had fled, was Joim».'i-4i
now a thing of the past, so that He could once more venture
into Jerusalem, and even into the Temple. The spacious
porches were a favourite haunt of the afflicted poor, and
among these, of a poor man, blind from his birth. Sur-
rounded and followed, as usual, by a number of disciples,
Jesus was, one day, passing, when this man attracted His
notice. It is not said that He spoke to him, but the mere
fact of His paying any heed to him, suggested a question to

316 THE LIFE OF CHBIST.

CHAR LI. some of those round Him. " Rabbi," they asked, " we have
been taught that children are bom lame, crooked, maimed,
blind, or otherwise defective — ^for some sin of their parents,
or for some sin committed by themselves before birth. Who
sinned, in this case — ^this man or his parents — ^that he was
bom blind?"

That there was a strict system of rewards and punish-
ments during the present life, according to the merits or
sins of individuals, had been the original doctrine of Jewish
theology. It had gradually, however, been modified, though
stiU held by the multitude; and it was superseded in the
New Kingdom by the transfer of final retribution to the
future world. The Rabbinical theology, sedulously taught
in every synagogue, sought to reconcile the contradiction
between the hereditary belief and the facts of life, by laboured
and unsatisfactory theories. The words were put into the
mouth of God Himself, in one of the current apologues so
much in vogue, that " the good man, if prosperous, was so,
as the son of a righteous man ; while the unfortunate good
man suflFered as the son of a sinful parent. So, also, the
wicked man might be prosperous, if the son of a godly
parent ; but if unfortunate, it showed that his parents had

M Benohot bccu sinucrs."^* It was further believed that a child might
sin before its birth, though it is a question whether there
was any general idea of the transmigration of souls, to
account for suffering as the punishment of sin in some

IT Dghtfoot, ffl. earlier existence. ^^

888.

" The affliction of this man," replied Jesus, " has been
caused neither by his own sin, nor by that of his parents ;
but his being bom blind offers an opportunity for the dis-
play of the divine power and goodness in his person. It is
on such sufferers as he that I must show the mighty works
which God has given me, as the Messiah, to do. In His
service I must work unweariedly, as He, my Father, Himself
works. Like Him with His work, I cannot intermit mine even
on this day, though it be a Sabbath. I am like one who
cannot leave his task till the night comes, when no one can
work. The night is coming erelong to me, when I shall
cease from all such labours, as the workman does at the

THE MAN BOBN BUND. 317

close of day. As long as I am in the world, I must be the ohap.ll
light of men : when I depart, the light will be withdrawn."

He might have opened the eyes of the poor man by a
word, but a great lesson was to be taught His enemies. He
wished to protest once more against the hypocritical strict-
ness of the Rabbinical observance of Sabbath, which so entirely
destroyed the true significance of the holy day. He would
show that it was in full accordance with the office of the
Messiah, not only Himself, to do what the dominant party
denounced as Work, on the Sabbath, but to require it also
from him whom He cured.

It was the belief, in antiquity, that the saliva of one who
was fasting was of benefit to weak eyes, and that clay
relieved those who suffered from tumours on the eyelids.
It may be that Jesus thought of this : at any rate, stooping
to the ground, and mixing saliva with some of the dust, He
touched the eyes of the blind man with it, and then sent
him to wash it off, in the pool of Siloam. It was impossible
that the clay or the water could restore the eyesight ; but
Jesus had once more asserted His right to do works of mercy
on the Sabbath ; in opposition to the narrow pretences of the
Pharisees; and the faith of the man himself was put to the
test. He, forthwith, did as commanded, and his sight was
at once made perfect.

Full of childish delight at the possession of the new
amazing sense, the man must have attracted attention, even
where the change wrought in his appearance prevented his
being recognized. He was well known in the city as a
beggar, blind from his birth. Presently, some asked, doubt-
ing their senses, " if this were not he who sat every day
begging ? " " It is he," said one. " It is some one like him,"
said others. " I am he," said the man. " How did you get
your sight, then ? " asked a number at once. The man told
them. "Where is this Jesus?" they asked again; but he
could not tell.

It was clear that another great miracle had been performed
by the Teacher whom the authorities denounced; and, hence,
firom whatever motive, the man was taken before them. The
sight of him might change their feelings towards Jesus, for

318 THE UFE OF CHBIST.

OHAP. LL even they did not pretend to deny the supernatural power
of their hated opponent, though they tried to attribute it
to the help of the Prince of devils.

Brought before the dignitaries of the Law and Temple,
the man had to repeat the stoiy of his cure. The miracle
could not be denied ; but the character of Jesus might, at
least, be discredited, for it appeared that he had dared to
break the Sabbath both in act and word. " This man is not
of God," said some of the Coimcil, " for does not the Law
expressly forbid the anointing of the eyes with saliva on the
It MUmoiL Sabbath, as work ? ^^ And, besides, no healing is permitted

5jj«^s:^ on the Sabbath except when life is in danger."^*
» ^uMttc. ad " How could a man that does wrong, work such miracles?"
replied some of the more liberal-minded. God would never
give such power to such a person. There is something
special that needs looking into, in this case of what you call
Sabbath-breaking — ^before you decide so confidently."

They were hopelessly divided, and at last, like Orientals,
resolved to get the opinion of the man himself. They asked
him, therefore, what he thought of Him who had cured hinu
"I think Him a prophet," answered the sturdy confessor.
But it would never do to admit this, for even the Rabbis
owned that a prophet might dispense with the laws of the
Sabbath.

The hostile party in the Council were in a strait, and
would fain deny the fact of the miracle altogether. They
would, at least, require more evidence than the man's own
word. Sending the officers for his parents, therefore, they
had them brought before them, and asked them : —

" Is this your son, who, as you say, was bom blind ? How
comes he to see, if that were so ? " But the question brpught
no relief, for the parents shrewdly refused to commit them-
selves beyond the bare acknowledgment that he was their
son, and that he had been bom blind. " He is of age — ^ask
himself," added they. Nor was their caution unjustified,
for they had heard that if any one acknowledged Jesus as
the Messiah he would be " put out of the synagogue ;" a
punishment involving the direst consequences socially and
religiously. It was, in fact, the lesser excommunication;

THE FIBST CONFESSOR. 819

which lasted thirty days, but might be lengthened for con- chap, ll
tinned impenitence, or curtailed by contrition. It shut a
person utterly from the synagogue, for even if he entered it,
he was reckoned as not present ; no mourning for the dead,
and no rite of circumcision, could take place in his house ;
and no one but his wife or child could come within four

cubits of him.2<^ » mw ^ ,

The discomfited Council could only fall back on the man
himself. " He must," they told him, "take care of himself,
else they would have to deal with him. He had better tell
the whole truth, and confess what he knew about this Jesus,
and thus show that he feared God, by giving Him the glory ;
for we know very well," said they, "that this man is a sinner."
But he was neither to be brow-beaten nor dragooned, and
would not yield an inch to either threats or persuasions.
" It is a very strange thing," said he, " that you talk about
Sim so. I can say nothing about His being a sinner ; I only
know that whereas I was blind, now I see."

Foiled once more, they fell back on their first question.
" What is it, you say. He did to you ? How was it He opened
your eyes ? " But they had to do with one of sterner and
manlier stufi^ than most " I told you all that already, "
replied he, " and you did not listen ; why do you wish to
hear it again ? Are you, also, like me, inclined to become
His disciples ? "

The court was not accustomed to be treated with so little
deference and awe ; their pride and dignity were sadly flus-
tered, and they forgot both in their excitement. With the
passionate heat of Orientals, they stooped to insult and
wrangle with the humble creature at their bar. As they
could get nothing against Jesus from him, they branded him
as His disciple — " You are a disciple of this Galilaean : we
are the disciples of Moses, the man of God : we know that
God' spoke to Moses, but as for this fellow, we know not who
has sent Him — ^it must have been Beelzebub, at best."

Unabashed, and true-hearted, the man was not to be
put down by either priest or Rabbi. " Well, this is very
strange," retorted he. "You say you don't know who has
sent Him, and yet He has opened my eyes ! A man who has

320 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

OH^LL done that, must, as you know, have come from God, and be
no sinner; for every one knows that God alone can give
power to work such a miracle, and He does not hear sinners,
but only those who worship Him truly, and do His will. So
wonderful an instance of the power of God being granted to
any man has never been heard of, as that which has been
granted to this Jesus ; for, from the beginning of the world,
such a thing was never known, as the opening of the eyes of
a man bom blind, even by the greatest of the prophets.
There is no such thing in any part of the Law or the
Prophets. If this man were not from Gt)d, He could do
, nothing."

" What I "screamed several voices at once. "You, a creature
tainted in your veiy core with sin, before your birth, and
bom with its miserable punishment on you, — ^you, an out-
and-out worthless wretch,— do you venture to teach us?
You are excommunicated." And so they cast him out of the
synagogue, there and then.

The report of this incident soon reached Jesus. The
blind beggar was the first confessor in the New Kingdom,
and its Lord lost no time in acknowledging and strengthen-
ing one who had owned Him fearlessly before the very
Council itself. Seeking him out, and telling him He had
heard of His grateful fidelity. He added — " You believe on
the Son of God, do you not ? " The name, as that of Jesus,
Himself, had not reached him, but he knew it as one of the
titles of the expected Messiah. "Who is He, Lord," asked
he, instantly, " that I may believe on Him ? " " Thou hast
seen Him, even now, " answered Jesus, " and it is He who
talks with thee." It was enough. The healed one had before
him the mysterious Being whose power towards himself had
shown Him to be " the messenger sent of God," — Him whom
he had only now confessed. " Lord," said he, " I believe,"
and rendered Him, forthwith, the worship due to the
Messiah — God's anointed.^

Meanwhile, a crowd had gathered, as the beggar, now
seeing not only with bodily but spiritual eyes, threw him-
self at His feet. It was a moment of deep emotion. Ad-
dressing Himself to those around, among whom, as usual,

EASTERN SHEPHERDS. 321

were some of the ever-watchfal Rabbis, Jesus seized the char ll
opportunity for a few more words of warning.

" I am come into the world," said He, " fan in hand, to
separate the wheat from the chaff, and to bring a judgment-
like division among men. The poor in spirit who feel their
need of divine truth, and mourn their spiritual blindness,
are enlightened by me, but those who think they see, and
fancy they know the truth, are shown to be blind, and are
shut out from my kingdom, to the blindness they have
chosen."

" Are we blind, then ? " asked some of the Rabbis in the
crowd. He had classed them as those who fancied they
alone saw, and their pride was roused by His venturing to
speak of them, the teachers of the nation, as blind — ^language
so opposed to the servility shown them as a rule.

" Blind ? " replied Jesus — " it would be well if you were
so, for, in that case, your disbelief in me would not be
sinful. It would not show a wilful resistance to divine truth,
but only that you had not yet attained the knowledge of it.
But since you claim to see, it makes your unbelief criminal,
and deepens your guilt, for it is your spiritual pride which
leads you to reject me, and thus keeps you from believing,
and so receiving pardon."

In the East, as in lonely mountainous districts of our own
country, the relation of a shepherd to his flock is very
different from the mechanical and indifferent one of some
other parts. The loneliness of shepherd life in these
countries throws man and the creatures he tends so much
together — ^binds them so to each other by a sense of com-
panionship, of dangers shared, and pleasures mutually
enjoyed — that the Eastern shepherd, like the shepherd of
our own mountains, forgets the distance between himself
and his flock, and becomes their friend. Nor is the sense of
dependence only on his side. The sheep are drawn to their
shepherd as much as he to them. They are all to each
other. They share in common the silence and lonely mag-
nificence of the mountains, or the desert. We learn to love
that for which we brave peril ; and the dangers of torrents,
of robbers, of wolves, of thirst, or of straying endear the

VOL. n. 60

822 THE LtPE OF CHBIST.

OHAP.LL flock for which they are borne, to the Oriental; as the
dangers of winter storms, or mountain mists, and the thou-
sand incidents of pastoral life in wild districts, do with our
Highland shepherds.

Nothing, therefore, could be more touching, in a pastoral
country like Palestine, than images of care or tenderness
drawn from shepherd life, and such Jesus now introduced
•t See Sermon with surpassiug bcauty.^^

a?mSr2nd '' I ^^^^ ^^^^ i^*^ the world," said He, in effect, " to gather
jS£i(??-2i. together into a great fold the new Israel of God. He who
enters by the door is a true and authorized under-shepherd,
but any who enter otherwise are not true leaders and shep-
herds, but are like thieves and robbers who climb over the
wall for evil ends.

" When the true shepherd thus enters by the door, the sheep
he tends hear his voice, and he calls them by name, and
leads them out. And when he has led forth all his own, he
goes before them, as the shepherds before their sheep, and
» lAndand his flocfc follow him, because they know his voice. ^^ And,
,^^^ as a stranger, who is not the shepherd known by a flock,
HftiLixifl. ^ ^^^^ ^ *^^ sheep hear his voice, scatters it in alarm,
^^ 80, while true shepherds are recognized as such by the

spiritual Israel, pretenders are known by their words, and
shunned." The drift of this parable, or allegory, was suffi-
ciently transparent, but those at whom it was pointed were
too self-satisfied to recognize it. They declared it unintel-
ligible.

Jesus, therefore, felt Himself necessitated to repeat the
main thought, and thus enforce it on their attention.

" I see," said He, " that you do not understand the parable
I have just delivered : let me explain it. I tell you with
the utmost solemnity ; I am the one only Door of the fold of
the flock of God. Other teachers have sought to lead you
in your day, but all who have done so, before my coming,
are like the thieves and robbers who enter a fold over the
wall. I frankly tell you I mean the priests and Rabbis, my
enemies. They have refused to enter, through Me, the Door,
and have rejected me. But the true sheep of God — ^the
spiritual Israel— rhave not listened to them. Note well, as I

THE GOOD SHEPHERD. 323

repeat it, I, alone, am the door of the true fold of the flock ohap.ll
of God. If any one enter by me into the fold, as a shepherd
or teacher and leader of the flock, he, himself, will be saved
in the world to come, and preserved to life eternal, and will
have free entrance to the sheep here, to lead them out to
pasture. He who does not thus enter through me, seeks
the sheep only for selfish and evil ends ; like the thief, who,
avoiding the door, climbs over into the fold, to steal, kill,
and destroy. I may call myself, in opposition to such false
shepherds, not only the door, but the Good Shepherd, for I
have come, not to destroy the flock of God, but to give them
true abiding life in my kingdom, and that with all fulness
and delight of spiritual joys.

" I am, indeed, the Good Shepherd, for I come to lay
down my life for the sheep. But he who is a hireling and
not a true shepherd — he who seeks to lead and teach the
flock of God, not from love and self-sacrifice, but for gain —
the hypocrite who pretends to be a shepherd — sees the
powers of evil coming like a ravening wolf, to tear the flock
by persecutions ; and flees, and leaves it to its fate, so that
they snatch ofi^ many, and scatter all. He thus flees because
he is only a hireling, thinking of himself and caring nothing
for the sheep.

" I, once more, am the Good Shepherd, and no hireling, for
I know my sheep, and they know me with such deep com-
munion of love and spiritual life, as there is between my
heavenly Father and myself; and I shall presently lay down
my life for them. Yet, not for those of Israel alone. I
have other sheep, of other lands, and them also I must lead

into the one fold, that there may be but one flock,^^ under » Not/wA tii»

fill ^™*«

me, the one shepherd. iror^^, »

"But this triumphal issue can be reached only by my aixi>, • foid,

death and resurrection; yet I rejoice to die thus for the ^^^^^

sheep, since the love of my heavenly Father rests on me,

because I give myself for them. I die freely, of my own

choice, a willing self-sacrifice. No one takes my life from

me, but I lay it down of myself.^* I am sent forth by my « soweieiw

Father, as the Messiah, and, as such, lay down my life and S^^,

take it again; not to carry out any purpose of my own, but

324 THB LIFE OF CHRIST.

oHAP^Li. to complete the great plan of salvation God has designed. It
is in obedience to His divine command I thus freely give
myself up to death, and it is to complete the gracious plan of
mercy towards the flock which my death will redeem, that I
shall rise again from the grave as their Great Shepherd, to
guide them to heaven."

Had the bigoted crowd known the full significance of
some of these words, they would have risen against Jesus
once more; for the future admission of the heathen into the
New Kingdom of God was more distinctly intimated than
ever before. As the end of His work drew nearer, the
narrow prejudices even of the Twelve were ever more
constantly kept in view, and the thought that the kingdom
He was founding must embrace all nations, daily enforced.

But neither this wide catholicity, which a Jew would
have held as treason to his nation, nor the mysterious
allusions to His own future, were rightly understood. The
old slander that " He had a devil, and was mad in con-
sequence, and not worthy to be listened to," rose from the
lips of some, and the best that even the most liberal among
the crowd could say, was the negative praise — " These are
not the words of one who is possessed."* Besides, though a
devil might, doubtless, work some miracles through man as
its instrument, it was impossible to believe that it either
would or could work one so beneficent and stupendous as
the opening of the eyes of the bom blind.

A WANDBBING LZFIE. 325

CHAPTER LII.

A WAIffDEEING LIFE.

rwas now near the end of Khislev — the cold month — ohap. lil
equivalent to paxt of our November and December.
The twenty-fifth of the month, which, according to
Wieseler, fell, this year, on the 20th December, was, with
the next seven days, a time of universal rejoicing :^ for the * J^*(y*^^
Dedication Festival, in commemoration^ of the renewal of, *^^^*^;*^
the Temple worship, after its suspension under Antiochus
Epiphanes,* was held through the week.* * Thip^^aJS:

Jesus, ever pleased to mingle in innocent joys, and glad T^Sipie™
to seize the opportunity for proclaiming the New Kingdom,
which the gatherings of the season afforded, once more re-
turned to Jerusalem to attend it. He had been in the neigh-
bourhood since the Feast of Tabernacles, nearly three
months before, and this visit would be the last, tiU His final
entry, to die.* * johnioja— 42.

The weather had been wet and rough,^ so that He was » au^ nnd
fain to avail Himself, like the crowds, of the shelter of the ^^^
arcade running along the east side of the Temple enclosure;
known as Solomon's porch, from a fragment of the first
Temple, left standing by Nebuchadnezzar.^

The rain drove the people from the open courts, and
Jesus, like others, was in the Porch it, apparently without His
disciples. The time was fitted to wake the old temptation
of ambition, had it had any charms. How easily might
He eclipse the hero of all this rejoicing, and by His super-
natural power achieve victories, compared with which those
of Judas MaccabaBUs would be nothing I But He had far
nobler aims.

The Pharisaic party, themselves, may have had such secret

6

• Ant. xz. 9. 7.

326 THB LIFE OF CHHI8T.

CHAP^LH. thoughts in connection with Him. Be this as it may, they
now suddenly came and began to ask Him if He would not,
at last, relieve their minds by some direct and express de-
claration whether He were the Messiah or not. It may be,
He could read in their looks that He needed only to speak a
word to have their support, and He knew that both they
and the nation, at such a time, were ready to flame into
universal enthusiasm for any leader who would undertake
to lead them against Rome. But earthly ambition had no
attractions for His pure spirit.

"We have waited long and anxiously," said they, "for
some decisive word. K Thou art the Messiah, tell us
openly."

" I have already told you," answered Jesus, " both by the
witness of the miracles I have done in my Father s name,
and in words ; but you have not believed me, because, as I
said not long ago, you are not my disciples; or, as I love to
call them, my sheep. If you had been, you would have be-
T joJmio.22-42. lieved in me.^ You may, yourselves, see that you are not
of my flock, for those who are so listen to my voice, and I
know them, and they follow me, as sheep know and listen
to the voice of their shepherd, and are known by him, and
follow him. Nothing, indeed, can be more close and abiding
than my relations to them, for I lead them not to mere earthly
. good, but give them eternal life, and am their shepherd
hereafter as well as here ; taking care that they shall never
perish, and that no one, even beyond death, shall snatch
them out of my hand. Moreover, being in my hand, they
are, in efiect, in that of my Father, for He is ever with me,
and works by me. He gave them to me at first, and He
still guards them, nor can any one snatch them from
His hands, for He is greater than all the powers of earth
and heU. Wonder not that I speak of their being both in
my Father's hands and in mine, for I and the Father are
One."

The excitable, fanatical crowd had listened patiently till
the last words, which seemed the most audacious blasphemy
— a claim of essential oneness with the Almighty. In a
moment they were once more scattered in search of stones,

THREATS OF STONING. 327

with which to kill Him, for what they deemed His crime, chap^ul
and presently gathered round Him again with them, to fell
Him to the earth. But Jesus remained undismayed. "I
have done many great works of mercy," said He, cahnly,
" which show that the Father is with me, because they could
only come from the presence of His power. They are
enough to show you that He thinks me no blasphemer.
For which of these mighty works will you stone me ? "

"We would not think of stoning Thee for a good work," .
answered the crowd ; " it is for your blasphemy — ^that you,
a man, should make yourself God."

" Is it not written in your Law," replied Jesus,^ " of the • J^aae.
rulers of Israel, the representatives and earthly embodiments
of the majesty of Jehovah, your invisible King, ^ Isaid^ Ye
are gods ? ' If God Himself called them gods, to whom this
utterance of His came,^ — and you cannot deny the authority • }^^^^
of Scripture, — ^how can you say of me, — ^whom the Father ^n««*»-
has consecrated to a far higher office than ruler, or even
prophet — to that of Messiah ; and whom He has not only
thus set apart to this great office, but sent into the world
clothed with the mighty powers I have shown, and the ful-
ness of grace and truth you now see in me, — that I blaspheme,
because I have said I am God's Son ? Your unbelief in me,
which is the ground of the charge, would have some excuse
if I did not perform such works as prove me to have been
sent by my Father. But if I do such works, then believe
them, if you will not believe me ; that you may thus learn
and know ^ that what I have said is true — ^that the Father
is in me, and I in the Father."

They had waited for a retractation, but had heard a defence.
Instantly, hands were thrust out on every side, to lay hold on
Him,^^ and lead Hiin outside the Temple to stone Him ; but " ▼«•«••
He shrank back into the crowd, and passing through it,
escaped.

Jerusalem and Judea were evidently closed against Him,
as Galilee had been for some time past. There seemed only
one district in any measure safe, — ^the half-heathen territory
of Perea, across the Jordan. The ecclesiastical authorities
and the people at large, instead of accepting Him, and the

328 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

CHAP. LXL spiritual salvation He offered, had become steadily more
obdurate and hostile. It was necessary at last to give up all
attempts to win them, and to retire, for the short time that
yet remained to Him, to this safer district. He chose the
part of it in which John had begun his ministrations ; per-
haps in hopes of a more hopeful soil, from the cherished
remembrance of His predecessor; perhaps as a spot sacred
to holv associations of His own.

Here, with His wonted earnestness. He once more pro-
claimed the New Kingdom, and was cheered by a last flicker
of success ; for crowds once more resorted to Him, many of
n John 10. whom became His disciples.^^ " John," said they, " did no
miracles, great though he was, but his testimony to this
Man, who was to come after him, — that He was greater than
himself, — is true ; for not only does He teach us the words of
truth ; He confirms them by mighty wonders, which show
Him to be the Messiah." Jesus was reaping, as Bengel says,
the posthumous fruit of the Baptist's work.

The quiet retreat of Perea was, however, soon to be broken.
The family of Bethany, to whom Jesus owed so many happy
hours, had been in health when He left, but a message sud-
denly reached Him from the two sisters, Mary and Martha,
the very simplicity of which still touches the heart : " Lord,
he whom Thou lovest, — our brother Lazarus, — ^is sick." His
»« joimiL love they felt would need nothing more.^^ The messengers
doubtless expected that He would have returned with them at
once, but He saw things in a higher light, and moved on a
different spiritual plane. Instead of going with them there-
fore. He dismissed them with the intimation that the sickness
would not really end in death ; but would be overruled by
God to His own glory, by disclosing that of His Son — Jesus
Himself. It was from no indifference ttat He thus delayed,
though it left His friends to bitter disappointment, and
Himself to the suspicion of neglect. " He loved Martha and
her sister, and Lazarus," says John. But still He delayed, in
obedience to a higher counsel than man's.

The messengers had taken a day to come, and it would
take another for Jesus to go to Bethany, but though He
knew this, He remained two days more in the place where

l>-46.

■^

ONCE MORE TO BETHANY. 829

the sad news had reached Him. On the third day, however, ohap. lil
He surprised His disciples, who had fancied that He hesitated
from fear of His enemies, by telling them that He was about
to return to Judea.

" The Rabbis and priests were seeking only the other day
to stone Thee, Rabbi," said they in amazement — " and art
Thou really going back into the very jaws of danger ?"

" The time allotted me by God for my work," replied
Jesus, " is not yet done, and so long as it lasts no one can
harm me. The time appointed for a man, is like the hours
of light given to a traveller for his journey. There is no fear
of his stumbling in the day, because he sees the sun ; but as
He stumbles when it has set, so man, though he walk safely
till the appointed time ends, can do so no longer when it is
over. Till mine is over, I am safe."

Pausing a few minutes. He went on to tell them why He
was going to Bethany, in spite of all danger. " Our friend
Lazarus," said He, "has fallen asleep, but I go that I may
awake him out of sleep." Unwilling to expose themselves
or their Master to unnecessary peril, their wishes read in
these words a cause for remaining where they were. " To
sleep is good for the sick," said they, thinking He spoke of
natural sleep. But their hopes were speedily dashed.
" Lazarus," said He, now openly, " is dead, and I am glad
for your sakes, that I was not there to heal him from mere
sickness. The far greater proof of my divine glory, which
you will see in my raising him from the grave, would not
have been given, and thus you would have lost the aid to
still firmer trust in me, which is so necessary now I am
so soon to leave you."

Such words might have at once quieted their fears and
kindled their zeal, but they still saw in His return to Judea,
only a journey to His own death. Thomas the Twin, at last
broke silence — " It becomes us to do all that our Master
commands, even when He asks us to risk our lives. Let us
go with Him, that we may show our love and fidelity by
dying with Him." A true-hearted but sad man !

It is clear that Jesus feared violence, for as He approached
Bethany, He lingered outside the village, as if to learn how

/

330

THE UnS OF CHRIST.

OHAP. T.Ty.

M Generally
•boat three
horns After.

matters stood, before venturing farther. Nor was it without
cause, for notwithstanding their friendship with Jesus, the
family of Lazarus, moving in good society as they did, had
many friends and connections amongst those hostile to Him,
and a number of these had come to pay the customary visit
of condolence to the two sisters.

The four days since the death had been sad ones in the
little household. They had fasted all the day after it, and
had since eaten nothing but an occasional egg^ or some
lentiles ; for that was the only food allowed mourners, for the
first seven days. The corpse, which had had a lamp burning
beside it from the moment of death, as a symbol of the im-
mortality of the soul, had been borne to the grave after a
few hours ;^^ an egg had been broken as a symbol of mor-
tality : and the cottage left to the two survivors. The funeral
procession had been sad enough, with its dirge flutes, and
wailing hired women ; the two sisters and their relations
following, and then the neighbours and friends ; for it was
held a religious duty in all who could, to attend a corpse to
the grave. At the grave's mouth, the men had chanted the
sublime ninetieth Psalm in a slow circuit of seven times
round the bier, on which lay the dead wrapped in white
linen. The long procession, headed by the veiled women,
had stopped thrice on the way to the grave, while the leader
spoke words of comfort to the bereaved ones, and tender ex-
hortations to passers by, — " Comfort ye, comfort ye, ye dear
ones I Lift up your souls, lift up your souls ! Come to me,
all ye who are of sad and troubled heart, and take part in
M dqIub, 247. the sorrow of your neighbours."^*

Once more in their desolate home, the sisters, with veiled
heads, even in their own chamber, and with unsandaled feet,
sat down on the earth, in the midst of a circle of at least
ten friends or professional mourners ; with rent clothes and
dust on their heads. None spoke till the bereaved ones had
done so, but every sentence of theirs was followed by
some word of sympathy and comfort, and by the wails of the
mourners. ^^ And thus it would be for seven days, and had
been for four, before Jesus arrived, for many friends had
come from Jerusalem to comfort the two sisters.

I* Seppi T.
849-4151.
Ughfcfoot,
inkc

AT THE GRAVE OF LAZARUS. . 831

Word was presently brought to the house, that Jesus had ohap.ul
come, and, forthwith, Martha, true to her character as the
more active of the two sisters, rose from the ground, where
she and Mary had been sitting, and went out, wrapped in
her mourning dress and deeply veiled, to go to Him ; but
Mary remained where she was, for she had not heard the
good news.

" Lord," said Martha, when she saw Him, " if Thou hadst
been here, my brother would not have died," — as if she
thought, " Why did He then delay ? " But as she looked
at Him her faith revived, and she added, "Yet though
he be dead, I know that God will grant you your utmost
prayer, even if it be to receive back Lazarus from the
dead."

" Your brother will rise again," replied Jesus, in design-
edly ambiguous words, to lead Martha's faith from mere
personal interest to higher thoughts. Martha understood
Him only of the resurrection at the last day, in which she
felt assured Lazarus would have part, and had hoped for
something so much nearer and greater, that so vague an
answer disappointed her. She could only find words to say,
with sad resignation, that " she knew that he would rise,"
as Jesus had seemed to say, " at the last day."

It was well she answered thus, for Jesus presently used
her words to turn her from mere personal interests, to Him-
self, and, in doing so, uttered that wondrous sentence which
has carried hope and triumph to millions of the dying and
the bereaved, and will do so while time and mortality
endure. " I," — ^and no other but I — " am the Resurrection
and the Life. He that believeth on me, though he were
dead, yet shall he live, and whosoever liveth and believeth
on me shall never die " — ^words which we may paraphrase
thus : — " I am He whose is the power to raise from the
dead, and make alive for evermore. He that believeth in
me, though his body die, will yet continue to live without
break or interruption — for, till the resurrection, he will be
in paradise, and after it, and by its means, he will enter on
the fulness of life eternal. And every one who is still alive,
and believes in me, will never die, in any true sense;

832 THE LIFE OP CHRIST.

OHAP. Lu. for the death of the body is not really death, but the open
gate into life eternal. Believest thou this? "

"Yea, Lord," sobbed out the stricken heart. "I believe
that Thou art the King-Messiah, the Son of God, who was
to come into the world ;" and having made this great con-
fession, she went away to call her sister secretly, for fear of
those hostile to Him among her own friends. "Mary,"
whispered she, "the Teacher is here, and calls for thee."
She would not mention the name for caution.

It was enough. The next instant Mary was on the road
to Jesus, who was still outside the village, in the place
where Martha had met Him. The way to the grave was in
that direction, and the friends, concluding she had gone
thither to weep, kindly rose and followed her, that she
might not be left to her lonely grief Jesus could no longer
remain hidden, but the presence of hostile witnesses confirmed
the more strikingly the great miracle that was to follow.

Falling in tears at the feet of Jesus, and embracing them,
Mary's full heart overflowed in the same lament as her
sister's, for they had often spoken the same words to each
other; "Lord, if Thou hadst been here, my brother had
not died." The presence of her friends, who she knew were
no friends of His, hindered more. It was a moment fitted
to move even a strong heart, for those around, with true
Oriental demonstrativeness, wept and lamented aloud, along
with Mary. But the sight of men who were filled with the
bitterest enmity to Himself, joining in lamentations with
Mary, His true-hearted friend — ^men with no sympathy for
the highest goodness, but ready to chase it, in His person,
from the earth, because it condemned their cold religious
hypocrisy — showing natural tenderness while such malignity
was in their hearts — roused His indignation, so that He
a De wetteand visibly shuddcrcd with emotion, ^^ and had to restrain Him-
^^"' self by an earnest efi*ort. Yet the cloud of righteous anger
passed off in a moment, and sorrow for His friend, and for
the grief of the loved one at His feet, asserted itself. Silent
tears trickled down His cheeks, for, though He was the Son
of God, He was no less truly than ourselves a man, moved
by the sight of human sorrow.

"lazabus, comb forth I** 333

The group of mourners were variously affected ; the most ohap. t jl
kindly remarking how dearly He must have loved the dead
man, that He should now weep so at His death. But the
more malicious and hardened only saw in His tears a wel-
come proof of His helplessness, for had it been otherwise,
could He not as well have cured Lazarus of His illness as
give sight to the blind ? The healing of the blind man must
surely have been a cheat, for certainly He would have come
to Bethany sooner, had He been able to do anything for
His sick friend. The muttered words reached the ears of
Jesus, and roused anew His indignation ; and thus, with
mingled anger and sorrow, He reached the grave.

Like most graves in the limestone districts of Palestine,
it was a recess cut in the side of a natural cave, and closed
by a huge stone fitted into a groove. ^^ v Ofcpt^wnwn,

In this gloomy niche lay Lazarus, swathed from head to BegaJisTo,
foot in loose linen wrappings, and now four days dead.

" Take away the stone," said Jesus.

But Martha, with her wonted matter-of-fact nature, shrank
at the words, for she thought of the awful spectacle of her
brother, now hastening to corruption. Christ's words about
the resurrection had taken away any hope of seeing Lazarus
alive again till the great day, and she would rather the
sacred remains were left undisturbed. A gentle reproof
from Jesus was, however, enough to let her leave Him to
His will. " Did not I send word to thee by thy messenger
that if thou wouldst only believe thou shouldst see the glory
of God? " So they took away the stone.

Jesus had already, in the stillness of His own breast,
communed with the Father, and knew, in Himself that His
prayer that Lazarus might be restored to life had been heard.
Lifting up His eyes to heaven. He now uttered His thanks
that it had been so. " Father, I thank thee that Thou hast
heard me — ^yet I knew that Thou hearest me always, for
Thy will is ever mine, and mine is ever Thine. But I thank
Thee thus, for the sake of those who stand around, that they
may be convinced that what I do is done in Thy power, and
that I am assuredly sent forth from Thee."

What followed is best given in the words of St John. "And

S34 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

OHAP. LiL when He had thus spoken, He cried with a loud voice,
" JohniL48,44. Lazarus, COME FORTH.^® And he that was dead came forth,
bound hand and foot with grave-clothes; and his face had been
bound about with a napkin — (that had tied up his jaw four
days before, when it fell, in death). Jesus saith unto them,
* Loose him, and let him go (home) :' " and he who had been
dead, now freed from his grave-clothes, himself returned in
the fulness of youthful strength and health to the cottage
from which he had been carried forth on a bier four days
before.

Of the after-history of Lazarus, with one momentary ex-
ception, we know nothing, for none of the numerous tradi-
tions and legends respecting him are reliable. He is said
to have been thirty years old when he was raised from the
dead, and to have lived for thirty years after ; to have been
of royal descent ; to have owned a whole quarter of Jerusa-
lem, and to have been, by profession, a soldier. His bones
were said to have been found in the year a.d. 890, with
those of Mary Magdalene, in the island of Cyprus ! and the
remains thus honoured were carried to Constantinople.
Other traditions take him to Marseilles, and speak of him
*• 2J'5^ ^ *^® ^^^ Christian Bishop of that city.^^ But the very
extravagance of these legends shows their worthlessness as
history.

The results of the miracle were momentous to Jesus Himself.
Many of the party of the Rabbis who had come to comfort the
sisters, found themselves constrained to believe in one whose
claims were attested by an act so transcendent, and so in-
disputable. But some justified all that Jesus had said of
their malignity by not only shutting their eyes to what they
were determined not to admit, but by playing the informer
to the ecclesiastical authorities.

The great ecclesiastical court of the nation, known in the
Talmud as the " Sanhedrim," had been in abeyance for many
years, for there is no trace of it during the whole period of
» jort, L 378. the Herods, or of the Romans.^^ The name, indeed, occurs
in the New Testament, but it is simply as the Greek word for
"an assembly," ° which was adopted by the Rabbis, at a
later period. Herod had broken up the great Rabbinical

f

THE AUTHOBITIES BOUSED. 835

council, and, henceforth, the only authorities recognized as ohap. iil
the fountains of Jewish Law were the schools of such Rabbis
as Hillel and Schammai. There was no such thing as a legal
Jewish court, which had power to enforce its decisions. The
authority granted to the leading schools was only a tribute
of confidence in their soundness and wisdom. Hence, in the
days of Christ, there was no legal Jewish court in existence,
and the criminal processes mentioned in connection with Him,
were only acts of assemblies which the high priest for the
time, the only representative of the old Theocracy recognized
by the supreme Roman authority, called together in angry
haste, informally, and which acted by no judicial rules of

21

procedure.

Such an illegal gathering was summoned by the Sad-
dticean chief priests and the leading Pharisaic Rabbis, to
discuss what should be done respecting Jesus, now that the
incontestable fact of the resurrection of Lazarus had crowned
all His preceding miracles. Having no idea of a Messiah
apart from political revolution, to be inaugurated by Him, it
seemed likely that, if something were not done to put Him
out of the way, the excitement of the people, through His
miracles, would become irresistible, and lead to a national
rising, fiercer even than that of Judas the GaUlaean. To
the popular party, represented by the Pharisees present,
this would be no undesirable issue; but the courtly Sad-
ducees shrank from any disturbance, fearing that, in the
end, the Romans would crush it with their legions, and, as
a punishment, abolish the hierarchical constitution, which
gave them their wealth and position ; and, with it, the eccle-
siastical and civil laws which flattered the nation with an
illusory independence.

The Temple, and all the far-reaching vested interests
bound up with it, had long existed only on sufierance, and
would at once perish in the storm of a national insurrec-
tion ; and the nation, stripped of its local laws, so vital to a
theocracy, would be secularized into a part of Rome, with
the hated imperial heathen law, instead of the laws of God
and the Rabbis.

The acting high priest at this time was Joseph Caiaphas.

n Jo8t,L878.

336 THE LIFE OF CHBIST.

cHAPjuEL He had been appointed by the procurator Valerius Gratus,
shortly before that governor left the province, in a.d. 25 —
when Jesus was about twenty years of age; and he con-
tinued to hold his great office till the year a.d. 36, when he
was removed by the proconsul Vitellius, shortly after the
recall of Pilate. He was, in every way, a creature of the
Romans, and, as such, received little respect from the
nation, though his dignity secured him official authority.

Rising in the meeting, which had been hitherto very
divided and irresolute as to the wisest course to be taken,
Caiaphas begged to give his opinion —

" You know nothing at all," said he, " else you would not
have so much questioning and discussing. You have not
considered that it is expedient for you, in view of your in-
terests as priests and Rabbis, that this one man should die,
to save Israel, as such, from the destruction that threatens
it, if you let Him stir up a Messianic revolt ; for, in that
case, the whole nation must perish. The Romans will come
with their legions and close our Temple, annul our inde-
pendence by abolishing our laws, and waste us with fire and
sword."

There could be no misconception of words so plain. They
were a distinct advice to those present to put Jesus to death,
as the one way to save themselves, and maintain things as
John 11. they were in Church and State.^^ Words so momentous, for
they decided the fate of Jesus, might well seem to St. John
no mere human utterance, but the involuntary expression
through unworthy lips, of the near approach of the supreme
act in the divine plan of mercy to mankind.

From that day the death of Jesus was only a question
of time and opportunity. Henceforth, the Jewish primate
and his suffragans kept steadily in view — ^in concert with
their hereditary and deadly enemies, the Rabbis — ^the arrest
of Jesus, and His subsequent death. Their officers, or anv
one hostile to Him, might apprehend Him at any moment.
It was clearly no longer possible for Him to show Himself
openly, and He, therefore, retired with His disciples to a
city called Ephraim, now difficult of identification. It seems
to have been hi the wild uncultivated hiU-country, north-

47— M.

JESUS CROSSES THE JORDAN AGAIN. 337

east of Jerusalem, between the central towns and the Jordan ghapjui
valley. A village now known as El Taiyibeh, on a conical
hill, commanding a view of the whole eastern slope of the
country, the valley of the Jordan, and the Dead Sea, though
only sixteen miles from Jerusalem, has been thought by Dr.
Robinson the site.^® It answers at least in its secluded « wct of Bibi<^
privacy, and the ready access it oflfers to the still wilder "Epi«inL"
regions beyond.

Only a few weeks remained of our Saviour's life, and
these He had to spend as a fugitive, to whom no place was
safe. He had, however, the joy of seeing the old enthusiasm
of the multitudes revived, for Matthew and Mark both
speak of the vast numbers who followed Him in this closing
period,^^ attracted, doubtless, more by the fame of His past* itott.io.i,«.
miracles, and by continuous displays of the same super-
natural power towards the diseased of every kind, than by
His teaching. Yet there must have been not a few " sheep "
in such vast gatherings. The clouds were parting as the day
closed, and were being lighted with sunset colours, before
the night darkened all.

From Ephraim He soon passed over the Jordan, to what,
for the moment, seemed a safer retreat. The lesser excom-
munication, which had driven Him from the synagogues of
Galilee and Judea, had perhaps expired, or the bann may
not have been effective in Perea; for He once more had
access to these assemblies on the Sabbaths, and was allowed,
as before, to teach the people, who were thus most easily
reached. It was impossible, however, that He could long
avoid collision with some or other of the countless Rabbinical
laws, which fettered every movement of free spiritual life,
and, as in the past, the fanatical Sabbath laws offered the
first occasions of trouble. Two instances are recorded by

St. Luke.2^ ttl^ukeU.

As He was teaching on a Sabbath in the synagogue of one
of the outljdng towns of Perea — ^half Jewish, half heathen
— He noticed in the audience, behind the lattice which sepa-
rated the women from the men, a poor creature drawn
together by a rheumatic affection, which had bowed her
frame so terribly that she could not raise herself erect. As

VOL, n. 61

10—31 ; 14.

338 THE UFE OF CHRIST.

oHAP^Ln. she painfufly struggled into her place, Jesus saw her, and
doubtless read, in her supplicating looks, and in the very
fact that she had come to the House of God in spite of such
physical infirmity, an evidence that she was a fit subject for
His pitying help. Rising, and calling across the congrega-
tion to her, the welcome words fell on her ears — " Woman,
thou art loosed from thine infirmity." The cure was instan-
taneous. In a moment she was once more straight and
whole, after eighteen years of deformity, and her irrepres-
sible thanks to God for the mercy vouchsafed her, rang
through the synagogue, and made a great commotion.

The head of the congregation, however, was a cold
Rabbinical pedant. Intensely professional, he could see
nothing but an irregularity. It was the Sabbath day, and
the Rabbis had decided that no cure was lawful on the
Sabbath except where death was imminent. "Silence,"
cried he, indignantly, " there are six days in which men
ought to work ; it would be much more becoming if this
person were to remember that : and if you, for your part,
want to be healed by Him, see that you come on a week-day,
so that He have no excuse for breaking the holy Sabbath,
by doing the work of curing you on it." ^

Indignation flashed fi^om the eyes of Jesus, and turning
to the speaker. He denounced his heartless formalism, so
. utterly opposed to the true religion of which He was the
official representative. " You, and the whole class who think
with you, are hypocritical actors," said He ; " your words
prove it, for they are contradicted by your daily conduct.
Do you not loose your asses, or your oxen, from the manger,
where they are tied, on the Sabbath, and lead them away to
water them ? And if so, ought not this woman, a daughter
of Abraham, and, as such, one of God's own people — ^who
is of unspeakably greater worth than any ox or ass, to be
loosed to-day, though it be the Sabbath, fi:om this bond, with
which Satan has chained her, for now, eighteen years ? "

There could be no reply to such a vindication. The ruler
and his party were silenced, and put to shame before the
quick-witted audience. The worship of the letter had
received another deadly blow.

CURE OF THE DROPSY. 339

A second incident, very similar, occurred soon after. One chap, lh.
of the leading Pharisees had invited Jesus to dine with him
on the Sabbath, as the day specially devoted to social enter-
tainments by the Rabbis, ^^ — with the sinister design of « ughtfoot,
watching Him and reporting to those in authority.^^ A » Lukei4.i-24.
number of Rabbis and Pharisees had been invited to meet
Him, but they had not yet lain down to their meal,^® when • verse?.
a man, ill with dropsy, entered the open door of the house,
with others who dropped in, with Oriental freedom,^^ to look » stephen-a

rr J ' ^ InoidentB of

on, and stand about. In his case, no doubt, the motive of ^t!L.
his coming was that he might attract the notice of Jesus. "-''' '
He was afraid, however, to speak, for fear of those present,
and patiently waited to see if Jesus would, of his own accord,
cure Him. He had not long to wait. Looking at him,
Jesus turned to the guests with the question He had asked
before, in similar circumstances — " Is it lawful to heal on
the Sabbath, or is it not ? " In their consciences they could
not say it was not, but few men have the courage of their
opinions, when current sentiment runs the other way, so
they were silent. But silence was a virtual affirmative, for,
if it were wrong, it was their bounden duty, as the public
guardians of religion, to say so. Passing over, therefore, to
the swollen and wretched being, He put His hand on him ;
cured him at once, and sent him away. Then, turning to the
confused and baffled company. He completed their discom-
fiture by an appeal similar to that which He had made in
the case of the woman healed shortly before. " Which of
you, let me ask, if his son,® or even only his ox, had fallen
into a pit, would not immediately draw him out, on dis-
covering it — even on the Sabbath ? " No wonder that nothing
further was said on the subject.

The couches on which the guests reclined at meals were
arranged so as to form three sides of a square, the fourth
being left open to allow the servants to bring in the dishes.
The right-hand couch was reckoned the highest, and the
others, the middle, and the lowest, respectively, and the
places on each couch were distinguished in the same way,
from the fact that the guest who reclined with his head, as it
were, in the bosom of him behind, seemed to be the lower of

S40 THE LIFE OF CHBIST.

CHAP^UL the two. The highest place on the highest couch, was, thus,
the " chief place ; " and human nature, the same in all ages,
inevitably made it be eagerly coveted, and as precedence
was marked by distance from it, there was an almost equal
anxiety to get as near it as possible. With the vanity and
self-righteousness of a moribund caste, there was no little
scheming among the Rabbis for the best place, and much
anxiety on the part of the host not to give offence ; for to
place a Rabbi below any one not a Rabbi, or below a fellow
Rabbi of lower standing, or younger, was an unpardonable
affront, and a discredit to religion itself. The intolerable
pride that had made one of their order, in the days of Alex-
ander Jannaeus, seat himself between Alexander and his
queen, on the ground that " wisdom" made its scholars sit
among princes, remained unchanged. Such petty ambition,
so unworthy in public teachers of morals and religion, and so
entirely in contrast with His own instructions to His disciples,
to seek no distinction but that of the deepest humility, did
not fail to strike the Great Guest, who had calmly taken the
place assigned Him. Addressing the company — " You are
wrong," said He, " in revealing your wishes, and obtruding
your self-assertion in such a way. Let me counsel you how
to act. If invited to a marriage feast, never take the chief
place on the couches, lest some one of higher standing for
learning or piety come, and your host ask you to go down
to a lower place, to make room for the more honoured guest.
Take, rather, the lowest place, when you enter, that your
host, when he comes in, may invite you to take a higher,
and thus honour you before all. Pride is its own punish-
ment, in this, as in far graver matters, for, whether before
God or man, he who exalts himself will be humbled, and he
who humbles himself will be exalted."

It was an old custom in Israel to invite the poorer neigh-
bours to the special meals on the consecrated flesh of offer-
ings not used at the altar, and on similar half-religious
occasions, to brighten their poverty for the moment, by kindly
hospitality. This beautiful usage was, in the time of Jesus,
among the things of the past, for the priest or Rabbi of His
day would have trembled at the thought of being defiled by

TEUB HOSPITALITY. 341

contact with people whose position made it impossible to be chap, m,
as scrupulous in the observance of the endless legal injunc-
tions demanded, as themselves.

The meal at which Jesus was now present was very
possibly one to which, in old times, such very diflferent guests
would have been asked. Or, it may be, the luxury dis-
played drew the attention of one so simple in His habits.
Not a few neighbours, in very different circumstances from
the guests, had likely entered, to look on and listen, but
caste looked at them askance, as if they were an inferior
race. • Noticing this, our Lord addressed Himself to the host
in a friendly way :—

" Have you ever thought what hospitality would yield you
most pleasure ? When you wish on special occasions to give
a dinner or supper, let me tell you what you would always
look back upon with the purest joy. Do not invite your
rich friends to it, or y6ur family or kinsmen, or well-to-do
neighbours. They will invite you in return, and this will
destroy the worth of your act, for which you expect a re-
compense from God at the resurrection. Instead of such
guests, invite the poor, the hungry, the lame, the maimed,
and the blind. If you entertain such, they will reward you
richly by their gratitude, and if you have invited them from
an honest heart, as a duty, God Himself will remember it at
the resurrection of the righteous."

One of the guests had listened attentively. The mention
of the resurrection of the righteous, naturally, under the cir-
cumstances, raised the thought of the heavenly banquet
which the Rabbis expected to follow that event. " Blessed
are those," said he, " who shall eat bread at the great feast
in the Kingdom of God, after the resurrection. It would,
indeed, be weU to give such entertainments as Thou hast
named, which would be thus so richly repaid in the world
to come."

This remark gave Jesus an opportunity of delivering a
parable which must have run terribly counter to the pre-
judices of the company. The spirit of caste that prevailed
in the hierarchical party, and their utter want of sympathy
for the down-trodden masses, were abhorrent to His whole

342 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

OHAP. LiL nature. It was daily clearer that the religious and moral
impulse by which He was to revolutionize the world, would
never come from Israel as a nation. The opportunity had
been offered and even pressed, but it had been rejected, and
hence He was free to proclaim the great truth, which, for a
time, He had held back, that the Heathen, as well as the
Jew, was invited, on equal terms, to the privileges of the
New Kingdom of God. It was specially necessary in these
last months of His life to make this prominent, that the
minds of the disciples, above all, might be prepared for a
revolution of thought so momentous and signal. He, there-
fore, now, took every opportunity of showing that the invi-
tations of the New Kingdom, in fulfilment of the eternal
purpose of God, were to be addressed as freely to heathen as
to Israel, and that the religion He was founding was one of
spirit, and truth, and liberty, for the whole world. This
revelation, so transcendent in the • history of the race, He
once more disclosed, had they been able to understand Him,
at the Pharisee's table.

" A certain man," said He, as if in answer to the last
• j'^ke^i*. speaker, " made a great supper, and invited many guests ;^
doing so early, that they might have ample time to prepare,
and keep themselves fi^e from other engagements. When
the hour fixed for the banquet came, he sent his servant —
as is usual — once, more to those invited, to say that all was
ready, and to pray them to come. But though they had
had ample time to make aU arrangements, they were stiU
alike busy and unconcerned about the invitation, and, as
if by common agreement, each in turn excused himself from
accepting it. ' I have just bought a field,' said one, ' and
must go and see it — I beg your master will hold me excused'
— and went off to his land. ' It is impossible for me to
come,' said another, ' for I have just bought five yoke of
oxen, and am on the point of starting to try them.' A third
begged to be excused because he had only just married,
and therefore could not come, as he had a feast of his own.

" The servant had, therefore, to return to his master with
this sorry list of excuses, each of which was a marked affront.
*I shall see that my feast has not been prepared for nothing,'

CASTE PROSCRIBED. 343

said he to the servant — ^ go out, at once, to the streets and ohapjul
lanes of the city, and bring in all the poor, the maimed, the
blind, and the lame you can find, that my table may be filled.'

" There was still room, however, after this had been done.
' Go outside the city to the country roads and hedgeways,*
said the householder, ' and gather any wsdfs and beggars
you find, and compel them to come in, for my house must
be filled, and none of the men I invited to my supper wiU
taste it.' "

Had the hearers but known it, this parable was a deadly
thrust at their most cherished prejudices. The priests and
Rabbis, leaders of the nation, had been invited again and
again by Jesus and His disciples, to the spiritual banquet of
the New Kingdom, but they had despised the invitation, on
any excuse, or on none. The poor and outcast people, the
sinners and publicans, and the hated multitude, who ne-
glected the Rabbinical rules, had then been summoned, and
had gladly come, and, now, the invitation was to go forth to
those outside Israel — ^the abhorred heathen — and they, too,
were to come freely, and sit down at the great table of the
kingdom of the Messiah, with no conditions or disabilities ;
while they who, in their pride, had refused to come, were
finally rejected.

It was the proclamation, once more, of the mighty truth
which might well be too hard for those who first heard it,
to understand, since it is imperfectly realized after nineteen
centuries — that external rites and formal acts are of no value
with God, in themselves : that He looks at the conscience
alone: that neither circumcision nor sacrifices, nor legal
purifications, nor rigid observance of Sabbath laws, nor
fSsists, but the state of the heart, determines the relation of
man to God.

Before leaving the world, our Lord would put it beyond
question that His religion knew no caste, or national privi-
lege : that it was independent of the cumbrous machinery
of rite and ceremony which had crushed the life out of the
religion of the Old Testament ; and that it could reign, in
its divine perfection, in any human heart that opened itself
to the Spirit of God.

344 THE UFE OF CHRIST.

CHAPTER LIII.

IN PEREA.

cHAP.LHL rpHE incident of the Sabbath meal, in the house of
Liikei4.26-«. X the Pharisee, had occurred as Jesus was journey-
ing by slow stages towards Jerusalem. He had long ago
felt that to go thither would be to die ; but His death, in
whatever part of the country He might be apprehended,
was already determined by His enemies, and it was neces-
sary for the future of His Kingdom that He should not
perish obscurely, lite John, in some lonely fortress, but
with such publicity, and so directly by the hands of the
upholders of the Old Theocracy, as to leave their deliberate
rejection of His teaching in no doubt, and to bring home to
them the guilt of His death.

Yet He was in no hurry. It was still some time till the
Passover, and He advanced leisurely on His sad journey,
through the diflferent villages and towns, teaching in the
synagogues on the Sabbaths, and anywhere, day by day,
through the week. Meanwhile, the miracles which He
wrought before continually increasing multitudes excited in
Herod, the local ruler, the same fear of a political rising as
had led him to imprison the Baptist.

In spite of our Lord's earnest effort to discourage excite-
ment, by damping every worldly hope or ambition in the
crowds that followed Him, and leaving no question of His
utter refusal to carry out the national programme of a
political Messiah, Herod was so alarmed that he made efforts
to apprehend Him. Had the throngs increased with His
advance from place to place, as they well might, so shortly
before the Passover, He would have entered Jerusalem with

INTENDING DISCIPLES WARNED. 345

a whole army of partisans, and compromised Himself at once ohapjcju.
with the Roman authorities.

He, therefore, spared no efforts to discourage and turn back
to their homes those whom He saw attracted to Him from
other than spiritual motives. He wished none to follow
Him who had not counted the cost of doing so, and had not
realized His unprecedented demands from His disciples.
Instead of courting popular support, now that His lif*e was
in such danger, He raised these demands, and refused to
receive followers on any terms short of absolute self-
surrender and self-sacrifice to His cause, though He had
nothing whatever to offer in return beyond the inward
satisfaction of conscience, and a reward in the future world,
if the surrender had been the absolutely sincere and disinter-
ested expression of personal devotion to Himself.

" Consider well," said He, " before you follow me farther.
I desire no one to do so who does not without reserve
devote himself to me and my cause. He must tear himself
from all his former connections and associations, and offer
up, as a willing sacrifice, the claims of father, mother, wife,
children, brother, or sister — and even his own life, if neces-
sary, that he may be in no way hindered from entire
devotion to me and my commands. Short of this, no one
can be my disciple. Nor can he who is not willing to bear
shame and suffering for my sake. You cannot be my
disciples unless you are ready to be virtually condemned to
die for being so ; unless, as it were, you already put on your
shoulders the weight of the cross on which you are to be
nailed for confessing my name.

" It is, indeed, no light matter, but needs the gravest con-
sideration. You know how men weigh everything before-
hand in affairs of cost or danger : much more is it needful
to do so in this case. No man would be so foolish as to
begin building a house without first finding out the cost,
and seeing if he can meet it. He will not lay the foundation,
and run the risk of not being able to do more, for he knows
that to do so would make him the scoff of his neighbours.
Nor would any king or prince, at war with another, march
out against him, without thinking whether he could likely.

846 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

oHAP.LiiL with ten thousand men, overcome an enemy coming with
twice as many. If he feel that the chances are against him,
he will seek to make peace before his enemy come near, and
will send an embassy to him to propose conditions. No less,
but rather much more, careful consideration of the dangers
you run ; of the greatness of my demands ; of the losses you
must endure ; of the shame and suffering certain to follow —
are needed before casting in your lot with me.

" Yet, as I have said elsewhere, before ; it is the noblest of
all callings to be my disciple, if you really can accept my
conditions. For to him who is truly my follower, it is given
of God to keep alive and spread the spiritual life of men, as
salt keeps sound and fresh that which is seasoned by it. My
disciples are designed by God to be the Spiritual Salt of the
Earth. But if the honour be greater, so much the greater
is the responsibility; for if a follower of mine, through
hankering after worldly interests, lose his spiritual life and
thus lose his power to further my cause, how can he hope to
regain it ? He is hke salt that has lost its strength, and, as
such worthless salt is cast out of men, so he will be cast out
of God, from the kingdom of the Messiah, at the great
day. He who is thoughtful, let him think of all this 1 "

A great English writer has pictured an imaginary char
racter as having a sweet look of goodness, which drew out
all that was good in others. There must have been some
such divine attraction to the poor and outcast in the looks
and whole person of our Lord. India is not more caste-
ridden than the Judea in which He lived. The aristocracy
of religion looked with hatred and disdain on the masses of
their own nation, and with bitterness still deeper on all men
of foreign birth. The ruin of long, disastrous years of civil
war and foreign domination, had covered the land with
miserj^ The reign of the Herods had been a continued
effort to rebuild burned towns, and restore exhausted
finances ; but the Roman tax-gatherer had followed, vam-
pire-like, and had drained the nation of its life-blood, till it
was sinking, as all Roman provinces sank, sooner or later,
into general decay. In a land thus doubly afflicted by social
proscription, and by ever-increasing social distress — ^a land

A FRIEND OF SINlirBBS. 347

of mutual hatreds and wrongs — ^the suffering multitudes chap^liil

hailed with instinctive enthusiasm one who, like Jesus,

ignored baleful prejudices ; taught the sunken and hopeless

to respect themselves still, by showing that He, at least, still

spoke kindly and hopefully to them, in all their sinfulness

and misery ; and by His looks and words, no less than by

His acts, seemed to beckon the unfortunate to gather round

Hun as their friend. It must have spread far and wide,

from His first entrance on His ministry, that He had chosen

a publican as one of His inmost circle of disciples, and

that He had not disdained to mingle with the most forlorn

and sunken of the nation, even in the friendliness of the

table or the cottage. From many a windowless hovel, where

the smoke of the household fire made its way out only by

the door, and the one earth-floored apartment was shared

by the wretched family, with the fowls, or even beasts

they chanced to own ^ — a hovel which the priest or Rabbi > Funer, ssi

would have died rather than defile himself by entering — ^the

story spread how the great Galilaean teacher had not only

entered, but had done so to raise the dying, and to bless the

living. All over the land it ran from mouth to mouth that,

for the first time, a great Rabbi had appeared who was no

respecter of persons, but let Himself be anointed by a poor

penitent sinner, and sat in the booth with a hated publican,

and mingled freely in the market-place with the crowds

whose very neighbourhood others counted pollution. Still

more, it was felt by the proscribed .millions, the Cagots

and Pariahs of a merciless theocracy, that He was their

champion, by the very fact that He was deemed an enemy

by the dominant caste ; for opposition to it was loyalty to

them.

Hence, the multitudes who, on this last journey, especially,
gathered round Jesus with friendly sympathy and readiness
to receive His instructions, were largely composed of the
degraded and despised — the "publicans and sinners" from
far and near. The Rabbis enjoined^ that a teacher should* JJ*»J"*»''
keep utterly aloof from such people, " even if one had the
worthy design of exhorting them to read the Law" — that is,
even with the view of reclaiming them. It was a sign that

848 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

CHAP. Liii. wisdom did not dwell with one if he went near the thief Or
the usurer, even when they had turned from their evil

« Taachmna. ways.^ The superstitious reverence demanded for those
who kept the Rabbinical laws strictly, was only equalled
by the intense loathing of the ignorant commonalty. No
Rabbi, or Rabbi's scholar, might on any account marry a
daughter of the Am-ha-aretz — or unlearned — ^for the gross
multitude were an abomination, and their wives loathsome

* Dent 27. ji. vermiu ; and the most repulsive crime known to the * Law

» Pojowm, foL was no worse than to marry among them.* No one might
walk on a journey with a " common man." It was sternly
forbidden to pollute the Law by being seen to read it before
one. Their witness was refused in the Jewish courts, and it
was prohibited to ^ve testimony in their favour : no secret
was to be told them: they could not be guardians of
orphans, nor allowed to have charge of the alms-box of the
synagogue; and if they lost anything, no notice of its
having been found was to be given them.

No wonder that the Rabbis, and the hierarchical party
at large, owned that "the hatred of the common people
towards the ' wise' was greater than that of the heathen
towards Israel, and that the wives hated the dominant caste

« EiBenmenger, eveu moie ficrcelv than their husbands."^

That Jesus should outrage the established laws of privi-
lege and exclusiveness, by allowing those to follow Him
whom Rabbis would not allow to apprbach them, and, still
worse, by receiving them kindly, and eating with them, was
a bitter offence to the Pharisees and scribes. In their eyes.
He was degrading Himself by consorting with the " unclean
and despicable." Nor could they say anything more fitted
to excite the mortal hatred of their class against Him.

The storm of bitter murmurings erelong reached the ears
of our Lord, and He at once seized the opportunity to
define His position unmistakably, and show that the course
He took was in keeping with His whole aim.

"Let me ask you," said He, to some irritated Rabbis, who
murmured at seeing Him, on one occasion, surrounded by

^Liikei5.i-«2. "publicans and sinners,"^ " who of you, if he had a flock of
a hundred sheep, and one of them were to go astray, would

NOT THE RIGHTEOUS BUT SINNERS. 349

not leave the ninety and nine on the pastures, and go off qhap.mi.

after the one that was lost, till he found it ? And when he

had done so, would he not lay it on his shoulders gladly,

and carry it back to the flock? and, when he had come

home, would he not call together his friends and neighbours,

to rejoice with him at his having found the sheep that was

lost ?

"You scribes and Pharisees, — Rabbis, — ^lawyers, — think
you are so righteous, that you need no repentance. You
speak of some of your number, as having never committed a
sin in their lives ; of some whose only sin has been such a
thing as having once put the phylacteries on his forehead be-
fore those on his arm; and call some the ' perfectly righteous.'® • ^^^^
Let me tell you, that all men as such are the great flock of J*jg^««»«
God, — for all are His sons, — and that when one who has gone
astray, and has lived in sin, comes to himself and repents,
there is greater joy in heaven over his return, than over
ninety and nine, who, like you, think they have no need of
repentance. And if this be the case in heaven, how much
more ought I, here on earth, to rejoice that many such peni-
tent ones come to me, than at your coming in proud self-
sufficiency to boast that you need nothing at my hand."

" Or," continued He, " I ask you, — suppose a poor woman
who had only ten drachma),* were to lose one in one of the
dark windowless hovels, in which so many of our people in
these evil days live, would she not light a lamp and sweep
the floor over, and spare no pains in seeking till she found
it ? And when she had found it, would she not call together
her friends and neighbours, and ask them to rejoice with her
for having found the drachma that was lost ? In the same
way, I tell you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of
God, in the highest heaven, over one such sinner as those
you so bitterly despise, who turns and repents. Well, there-
fore, may I gladly receive them, and mingle with them, when
they come to me to learn the way back to God.

" Let me tell you a parable.

" A certain man had two sons. And the younger of these
said to his father, — ' Father, give me I pray you, the portion
of the property that faUs to me. I am the younger son, and

350 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

CHAP. MIL inherit only half as much as my elder brother,* but I pray

• DTmtttfJ' you let ™e have it' The father, on this, divided between the

ArohitoiSiie, two all his living, retaining, however, the larger share of the

elder son in his hands till his own death, as he might

have done with that of the younger son also. His share,

however, he gave into the young man's own hands.

"But before long, the younger son began to dislike the
restraint of his father's house, and gathering all together,
set off for a distant country, and there gave his passions
the reins, and lived in such riot, that erelong his whole
means were scattered. But, now, when he had spent his all,
a great famine arose in the country, and he began to be in
distress. At last it went so hard with him, that he was glad
to ask one of the citizens to give him anything at all to do,
whatever it was, to get bread. He was, thereupon, sent into
the man's fields, to be his swineherd, a sadly shameful occu-
pation for a Jew ! Yet, after all, he did not get even his
food for which he had bargained, for neither his master nor
any one else thought of him, and he was left to starve. He
even longed to fill himself with the pods of the carob-tree,
which are fed out to swine, and are sometimes eaten by the
« Trirtnun, 880. vcry poor,^® but no man gave him any even of them.
Book,2L "In his loneliness and sore trouble, he began to reflect.

' How many labourers and household servants of my
father,' said he to himself, * have more bread than they can
eat, while I, his son, am dying here of want. I will arise,
and go back to my father, and will confess my guilt and
unworthiness, and tell him how deeply 1 feel that I have
sinned against heaven and done great wrong towards him.
I will say that I feel I am no longer worthy to be called his
son, and will ask him to treat me like one of his hired
labourers, and will teU him that I will gladly work with them
for my daily bread, so that he receive me again.'

" He had no sooner resolved to do this, than he rose to
return to his father's house. But when he was yet a great
way off, his father saw him and knew him, and ran out to
meet him, full of tender compassion, and fell on his neck
and kissed him tenderly. And the son said to him, 'I have
sinned against God and against thee, and am not worthy that

THE PRODIGAL SON. 351

thou shouldest any longer call me thy son.' He could not Qhap.liil
say what he had intended besides, when he saw how fondly
his father bent over him, notwithstanding his sins and folly.
Nor was more needed ; for his father called out to his servants,
' Bring me a robe, the best there is, that he may have my
finest ; and put it on him ; and put a ring on his finger,
and sandals on his feet ; he shall no longer, like a slave, be
without either ; and bring the fatted calf and kill it. We
shall have a feast to-day and be merry, for my son ; lost and
dead, as I thought, in a strange land, is once more home : " ^^SSl^
dead by his sins, he is alive again by repentance : a lost JSkSt*
wanderer, he has returned to the fold.' m^'***'

"The elder son, meanwhile, had been in the field with the
labourers, but now came towards home. And as he drew
near, he heard music and dancing. Calling one of the ser-
vants, he thereupon asked what had happened, and was told
that his brother had come home, and that his father was so
glad to have him once more safe and sound, that he had had
the best calf killed, and given for a feast to the household.

" But now, instead of rejoicing over his brothers return,
the elder son took amiss such gladness of his father, at
having him safely back again, and would not go into the
house at all, or take any part in the rejoicings. The father,
therefore, ever kind and gentle, went out to him to soothe
him, and to beg him to come in. All he could say, however,
failed to soften his heart, and he vented his discontent in
angry reproaches : ' I have served you for many a year, more
like a slave than a son, and have obeyed you in every parti-
cular, and yet you never gave me a kid, far less a fatted calf,
that I might have a little enjoyment with my friends. But
when this fellow, who is indeed your son, though I will not
call him my brother, — this fellow who has spent your money
on harlots, — ^has come back, you have killed the fatted calf
for him.'

"'My son,' replied the father, mildly, 'have you for-
gotten that you have been always by my side, while your
brother has been far away from me, or that all that I have
belongs to you as my heir ? Surely all this should raise you
above such hard judgments and jealous thoughts. What

352 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

oHAP.mi. could we do but rejoice when a long-lost son has come back
again to his father's house ? ' "

The parables of the Lost Sheep and of the Lost Piece of
Silver had been enforced by the noblest of all the parables.
Henceforth, for all ages, it was proclaimed beyond the possi-
bility of misconception, that, in the teaching of Jesus, God
looks with unspeakably greater favour on the penitent
humility of 'Hhe sinner," with its earnest of gratitude and
love, than on cold correctness in which the heart has no place.

We are indebted to St. Luke for some other fragments of
the teaching of these last weeks.

Among the great multitudes who had thronged after Him,
iLiikei4.86; the publicans of the district were especially noticeable.^^
*-"• Many of them were, doubdess, in a good position in life,
and some even rich, but all were exposed to peculiar tempta-
tions in their hated calling. Not a few seem to have listened
earnestly to the first Teacher who had ever treated them as
men with souls to save, and it was of the greatest importance
to them that they should have wise and true principles for
their future guidance. The following parable seems to have
been delivered specially to them, as part of an address
when they had gathered in more than usual numbers.

^' A certain rich man had a steward, to whom he left the
entire charge of his affairs. He learned, however, from some
sources, that this man was acting dishonestly by him, and
scattering his goods; so he called him and let him know
what he had heard, telling him, at the same time, to make
out and settle all his accounts, as he could no longer hold his
office.

" The steward, knowing that he was guilty, was at a loss
what to do. ' I cannot dig,' said he, to himself, ' for I have
not been accustomed to it, and I am ashamed to beg.' At
last he hit on a plan which he thought would serve his end,
and at once set himself to carry it out. Going to all his master's
tenants, one by one, he asked each how much rent or dues
he had to pay, though, in fact, he knew all this beforehand.
When told, he pretended to have been commissioned, in
compliance with his own suggestion, to lower the amount
in each case ; and he thus secured the favour of all. For

THE RIGHT USB OF WEALTH. 353

example, he went to one and asked him * How much owest thou ohap. un.
to my lord ? ' and when told ^ A hundred pipes of oil,' bade
him take back his bill, and write another, instead, for fifty.
A second, who owed a hundred quarters of wheat, he told to
make out a fresh writing with only eighty. In this way, by
leading them to think him their benefactor, he made sure of
friends, who would open their houses to him when he had
been dismissed.

" Some time after, when his master heard how cleverly he
had secured his own ends, he could not help admiring his
shrewdness. And, in truth, it is a fact, that bad men like
this steward — ^the sons of this world — ^not of the next —
are wiser in their dealings with their fellows, than the sons
of light — my disciples — are in theirs with their brethren,
sons of my heavenly Kingdom, like themselves.

" As the master of that steward commended him for his
prudence, though it was so worldly and selfish, I, also, must
commend to you a prudence of a higher kind in your rela-
tions to the things of this life. By becoming my disciples,
you have identified yourselves with the interest of another
Master than Mammon, the god of this world — ^whom you
have hitherto served — ^and have before you another course
and aim in life. You will be represented to your former
master as no longer faithful to him, for my service is
so utterly opposed to that of Mammon that, if faithful to
me you cannot be faithful to him, and he will, in conse-
quence, assuredly take your stewardship of this world's
goods *from you — that is, sink you in poverty, as I have
often said. I counsel you, therefore, so to use the goods of
Mammon — the worldly means still at your command —
that, by a truly worthy distribution of them to your needy
brethren — and my disciples are mostly poor — ^you may make
friends for yourselves, who, if they die before you, will wel*
come you to everlasting habitations in heaven, when you
pass thither, at death. Fit yourselves, by labours of love
and deeds of true charity, as my followers, to become fellow-
citizens of the heavenly mansions with those whose wants
you have reUeved while they were still in life.

" If you be faithful, thus, in the use of your possessions

VOL. IL 62

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354 THE MFB OF CHRIST.

oHARLiiL on earth, you will be deemed worthy by God to be entrusted
with infinitely greater riches hereafter, in heaven, for he
that is faithful in this lesser stewardship, has shown that he
will be so in a higher, but he who has misused the lesser
cannot hope to be entrusted with a greater. If you show
in your life, that you have not been faithful to God in the use
of this world's goods, entrusted to you by Him to administer
for His glory, how can you hope that He will commit to
your keeping the unspeakably grander trust of heavenly
riches ? If you have proved unfaithful in the stewardship
of what was not yours — ^the worldly means lent you for a
time by God — how can you hope to be honoured with the
great trust of eternal salvation, which would have been
yours had you proved yourself fit for it ?

" Be assured that if you do not use your earthly riches

faithfully for God, by dispensing them as I have told you,

you will never enter my heavenly Kingdom at all. You

will have shown that you are servants of Mammon, and not

the servants of God ; for it is impossible for any man to

»» Trfodion scrvc two mastcrs." ^*

nSS^s*^ Such unworldly counsels, so contrary to their own spint,

i^eofcautat,^^^ received with contemptuous ridicule ^ by the Phari-

g*fl"j>^ sees standing round, as the mere dreams of a crazed enthu-

gJiS^"- siast. The love of money had become a characteristic of

^4^ ""^ their decaying religiousness, and it seemed to them the

•I- wildest folly to advise the rich, as their truest wisdom, to

use their wealth to make friends for the future world,

instead of enjoying it here. It is quite possible, indeed,

that some of them felt the words of Christ as a personal

reproof, and were all the more embittered.

Patient as He was in the endurance of personal wrongs and
insults, the indignation of Jesus was roused at such sneers
at the first principles of genuine religion, and He, at once,
with the calm fearlessness habitual to Him, exposed their
hypocrisy and unsafeness as spiritual guides.

'^ You hold your heads high," said He, " and affect to be
saints, before men — such perfect patterns of piety, indeed,
that you may judge all men by yourselves.

"But God, who knows all things, and judges, not by the

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THE LAW OF BIVORCB. 855

outward appearance, but by the heart, knows how different ohap. ml
you are in reality from what you make men believe. Your
pretended holiness, which is so highly thought of by men,
is an abomination before God. You ignore, or explain
away the commands of His law, when they do not suit you,
and thus are mere actors, for true godliness honours the
whole Law. I condemn you on the one groun4 on which
you claim to be most secure. You demand honour for your
strict obedience to the Law ; I charge you with hypocrisy,
for your designed and deliberate corruption of that Law, to
suit yourselves.

"Sincerity is demanded from those who wish to serve God.
That which Moses and the Prophets so long announced, —
that to which all the Scriptures point, the Kingdom of the
Messiah — has come. From the time when the Baptist
preached, that kingdom is no longer future, but is set up
in your midst, and with what success 1 Every one presses
with eagerness into it. But, as you know, I, its Head and
King, make the most searching demands from those who
would enter it, and open its citizenship only to those who
are willing to overcome all difficulties to obtain it. You
charge me with breaking the Law, but, so far from doing so, I
require that the whole Law, in its truest sense, be obeyed by
every one who seeks to enter the New Kingdom. It is easier
for heaven and earth, I tell men, to pass away, than for one
tittle of the Law to lose its force. But how different is it
with youl Take the one single case of divorce. What
loose examples does not the conduct of some of your own
class supply ? what conflicting opinions do you not give on
the question ? I claim that the words of the Law be ob-
served to the letter, and maintain, in opposition to your
hollow morality, that any one who puts away his wife, ex-
cept for adultery, and marries another, himself commits
adultery, and that he who marries the woman thus divorced
is also guilty of the same crime. Judge by this whether
you or I most honour the Law — ^whether you or I are the
safer guides of the people. How God must despise your
boasts of special zeal for His glory 1

" But that, notwithstanding your sneers, you may feel the

856 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

oHAP. LiiL truth of what I have just said as to the results of the

M Lake ifl.i»ff. possession of riches, ^^ when they are not employed as

I have counselled — ^to make friends for yourselves, who

wiU welcome you to heaven hereafter, let me tell you a

parable.

'^ There was a certain rich man who dressed in robes of
fine purple-*— the raiment of princes— over garments of the
costliest Egyptian cotton, which only the most luxurious
can buy.

" There was also, in the same place, a poor diseased beggar
» God (to my) named Lazarus,^* who had been brought and set down, as
an object of charity, before the gates of the great man's
mansion, where he lay helpless, day after day; so abject,
that he longed to be fed with what fell from the rich man's
table. But the rich man, though he often saw him, and
knew his case, showed him no kindness, and instead of
helping the sufferer, and thus making a friend with his
money, who should help him hereafter, as I advise ; had no
thought except of himself, and of his own pleasure. The poor
man's case was indeed pitiful ; he could not even drive away
the unclean dogs, which, day by day, came and increased his
pain by licking his sores.

" It came to pass, after a time, that Lazarus died, and
was carried by the angels to Paradise, and there set down
next to Abraham on the banqueting couches, at the feast in
the kingdom of God, with his head in the great patri-
arch's bosom — the highest place of honour that Paradise
could give.

"Erelong, the rich man also died, and, unlike Lazarus,
whom men had left uncared for, even in his death, he was
honoured with a sumptuous funeral.

"He, also, passed to Hades; not, however, to that part of
it where Paradise is, but to Gehenna, the place of pain and
torment in the world of shades. And in Hades he lifted
up his eyes, and saw Abraham in the far distance, in the
banqueting hall of bliss, with Lazarus reclining next him,
in his bosom, as his most honoured friend. And he knew
them both, and remembered how Lazarus had lain at his
gate, and thought of this as a bond between them. ^ 0

DIVES AND LAZARUS. 357

Father Abraham,' cried he, in his torments, ' have mercy on ohap.lpl
my agony, I beseech thee, and send Lazarus, that he may
dip the tip of his finger in water, and cool my tongue, for
I am tormented in this flame.' So great had been the
change in their positions, that now the despised beggar was
entreated to do even so small a favour to him from whom
he himself had once looked for any favour in vain 1 Dives
would fain make friends with Lazarus now, but could not
bethink him of any good deed he had ever done him to
help him to do so.

" Abraham now called this to his mind. * Son,' said he,
' wonder not that you and Lazarus are in such opposite con-
ditions here, from those you had when in life. You, then,
had as much earthly happiness as you could enjoy : you
had it, and set your heart on it, and lived only for yoursel£
Had you used your wealth as a godly man, in doing good
to those, like Lazarus, who needed pity, instead of lavishing
it on splendour and self-indulgence, you would have had
good laid up for you now. But you lived only for earth, and
the good you chose has been left behind you. You made
your portion in your lifetime, and have none here. But
Lazarus endured, while still alive, the sufferings allotted
him, and he has none in this state. Penitent and lowly,
he bore them patiently, as a child of God, and is now re-
ceiving the reward of the poor in spirit. His position and
yours are reversed, for he now finds consolation and joy, in
exchange for his earthly misery, but you, pain and sorrow,
instead of your self-indulgence.'

" ' Besides all this,' added he, ' between this happy abode
and yours, there is a great space, across which no one can
pass, either from us to you, or from you to us, so that it is
impossible that you should have any share in our joy, or
that Ave can in any way lessen your pain.'

"Now, for the first time, the rich man saw the full extent
of his misery, and its cause. * Would that I had acted dif-
ferently,' cried he, ' when in life. Would that, instead of
living for myself — hard, impenitent, selfish — I had been
lowly and penitent, using my wealth as God enjoined, in
blessing the wretched. I should then have, been welcomed

358 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

qgAP.Lm. by Lazarus, and such as he, into the everlasting habitations
of Paradise 1 '

" 'But, oh! Father Abraham,' he continued, 'let me be
the only one of my father's house to come into this doleful
place. Send Lazarus, I beseech thee, back to earth, to my
father's house, for I have five brethren, who live as I lived."
It would add unspeakably to my pain if they also came to
this abode of woe. Oh I let Lazarus go and warn them of
what has befallen me, their brother.'

"*To escape your sad doom,' replied Abraham, Hhey
must needs repent, and live the life of the godly. But for
this the Law and the Prophets are the appointed means ;
let them listen to them.'

" 'Nay, Father Abraham,' answered the lost one, 'that is
not enough. It did not move me to repentance. But if a
dead man returned again from the grave, and came to them,
and told them how it was with me here, they would be
alarmed, and reform.'

" ' You err, my unhappy son,' said Abraham, closing the
scene. ' It would not move them in the least, for so amply
are the Scriptures fitted to persuade men to repentance, that
those whom they do not win to it would not be persuaded
even if one rose from the dead.' "

The Rabbis had listened to the parable, but it touched
their own failing too pointedly to make them care for any
longer conference with Jesus. When they were gone — ^it
may be while He was resting with the Twelve in the cool of
the evening — ^the incidents of the whole day were passed in
review, and Jesus noticed that the words and bearing of His
opponents, respect for whom, as the teachers of the nation,
was instinctive with every Jew — ^had not been without
their efffect even on His disciples. It was evident that the
very nature of His demands — ^the trials and persecutions to
come, and the weakness of human nature — ^would raise moral
hindrances to the full and abiding loyalty of not a few.

By way of caution, therefore, He now warned them on

M Lake 17.1-1. this poiut.^^ "It is impossible," said He, "to prevent

divisions, disputes, and even desertion and apostasy, on the

part of some of- you, in the evil times to come. Misrepre-

HUMILITY AND LOVE DEMANDED. 359

sentation, prejudice, the bent of different minds ; the weak- oHAP.Lm.
ness of some, and the unworthiness of others, will inevitably
produce their natural results. The progress of my kingdom
will, I foresee, be hindered more or less from this cause,
but it cannot be avoided. Yet, woe to him who thus
hinders the spread and glory of the Truth. It were better
for him, if, like the worst criminal, he were bound to a
heavy millstone, and cast into the sea, than that he should
cause a single simple child-like soul, who believes in me, to
fall. Take heed that you neither mislead nor are misled I
Remember that I tell you that offences must be prevented
or removed by a lowly forgiving spirit on your part. You
know how far you are yet from this ; how strong pride, love
of your own opinion, harshness, and impatience, stiU are in
your hearts. To further my Kingdom when I am gone,
strive above all things for peace and love among yourselves.

" The one grand means of avoiding these causes of offence
and spiritual ruin is unwearied, forgiving love; by that
frame of mind which you see so whoUy wanting in the
Rabbis, that they have even now murmured at my so much
as speaking to sinners, from whom such simple, lowly
brethren are to be gathered. If such an one sin against
you, and turn away from your fellowship^ rebuke him for
his sin, but if he see his error and repent of it^ and come
back, forgive him ; aye, even if he wrong you seven times
in a day, and feel and acknowledge his error and promise
amendment, as often, you must each time forgive him freely.**

The Twelve had listened to these counsels with intense
interest, but their moral grandeur almost discouraged them.^^ v LDk»i7j-M.
They felt that nothing is harder than constant patience
and loving humility — ^never returning evil for evil, but ever
ready to forgive, even when repeatedly injured without
cause. It needed, as they feared, stronger faith than they
yet had, to create such an abiding spirit of tender meeknesa
They had talked over the whole matter, and saw only one
source of strength. Coming to their Master, full of con-
fidence in His divine power to grant their request, they
openly, and with a sweet humility, prayed Him that He
would increase their faith.

360 THE LIFE OF CHBIST.

oHAPjun. "This request," answered Jesus, "shows that faith, in a
. true and worthy sense, is yet to be begun in your hearts.
If you had it, even in a small measure, or, to use a phrase
you hear every day, as a grain of mustard-seed; instead of
finding obedience to these counsels too difficult, you would
undertake and perform even apparent impossibilities — ^acts
of trust which demand the highest spiritual power and
strength. To use words which you have often heard as an
illustration of acts naturally impossible, you would say to

M iMrtwn'B this sycamore or mulberry-tree,^® ' Be thou plucked up by

»*to,w«- the roots and planted in the sea,' and it would obey you —

that is, you would be able to do what, without faith, seems

m BoMwtnMtor, as impossiblc. ^^

" To such efficiency and eminence in my service will true
faith in Me lead you : but beware, amidst all, of any thought
of merit of your own. Your faith must grow, and cannot
be given as a mere bounty from without : it is a result of
your own spiritual development and true humility, which
looks away from self to Me, as the one condition of this
advancement. You shall have the increased faith you seek,
but it will be only by your continued loving dependence
on me, your Master. If any of you had a servant ploughing
or tending your flock, would you say to him when he comes
home from the field in the evening, ' Come near immedi-
ately, and sit down to meat ? ' Would you not rather say,
^ Prepare my supper, and make yourself fit to wait on me at
table, and after I have supped, you shall eat and drink ? '
Would you think yourself under obligation to the servant
because he has been working for you, or because he waits
on you as required ? Assuredly not, for your servant had
only done what it was right he should do as a servant Be,
you, such servants. There is a daily work, with prescribed
tasks, required from you. The great supper will not be till
this life is ended ; but when it is ended, you must not think
of yourselves, on account of it, except as becomes servants ;
and should you be rewarded or honoured, you must not
forget, that it is only from my free favour, and not as pay-
ment of any claim; because, in fact, you have done only what
it was your duty, as servants, to do. The servant who does

THE KINGDOM OF GOD. 361

less than his duty, is guilty before his master, but he who ohap.liu.
has done his duty, though he has avoided blame, has no
reason to think himself entitled to reward. Feel, therefore,
in any case, that your work has not been beyond your right-
ful duty, and that, though you have escaped condemnation,
you have no claim for any merit. "^^ » Loken.

The hostility of the Ral^bis was growing daily more bitter,
after each fruitless attack. At each town or village they
gathered round Him, and harassed him at every step by
attempts to compromise Him with the authorities.

On one of these last days of His journey towards Jeru-
salem, a knot of Pharisees had, thus, forced themselves on
Him, and sought to elicit something that might serve them^
by asking Him —

"Master, you have often represented yourself, both by
word and by mighty deeds, as the Messiah, but we see no
signs as yet of the coming of the kingdom of God. When
will it come ? It has been long promised." ^^ « Lnken.

"The kingdom of God," answered Jesus, "is something
entirely different from what you expect. You look for a
great political revolution, and the establishment of a Jewish
empire, with its capital in Jerusalem. Instead of this, it is
a spiritual kingdom, in the hearts and consciences of men,
and, as such, cannot come with the outward display and
circumstance of earthly monarchy, so that men may say,
*Lo, here is the kingdom of God,' or, 4o, there.' The
coming of the kingdom develops itself unobserved. I cannot,
therefore, give you any moment when it may be said to have
come, for, in fact, it is already in your midst. I, the
Messiah, live and work amongst you, and where the Messiah
is, there is His kingdom. There, already, is it steadily
advancing, after its nature, like the seed in the ground,
like the grain of mustard-seed, or, like the leaven in a
woman's measure of meal."

The malevolent question thus met a reply which at once
balked curiosity, and laid on all the most solemn responsi-
bilities ; for if the Messiah was really among them, liow im-
perative to fit themselves for entering His kingdom ! The
interrogators, finding their sinister effort vain, presently left;,

362 THE UFE or CHRIST.

QHAP.LPL and, when thus alone, Jesus resumed the subject with His
disciples.

" I have only spoken to these men," said He, " of the
growth and development of my kingdom, unseen, and
silently, in the hearts of men. To you I would now speak
of the future. Days will come when trouble shall make
men's hearts long for one of the days of the Son of Man
back again, and false Messiahs will rise, pretending to bring
deliverance. But when they say to you, * Lo, there is the
Messiah come at last,' or, ' Lo, Here He is,' go not out after
them ; do not follow them. For the coming of the Son of
Man will be as sudden, as striking to all eyes, as mighty in
its power, as when the lightning leaps from the cloud and
suddenly sets the whole heavens in flame. There is no need
of asking of the lightning 'Where is it?' or for any to tell
you of it.

" But this coming wiU not be now. I must first suffer
many things from this generation, and be rejected by it.
Far from approaching with slow royal pomp, seen and
welcomed from afar ; far from the world haling my coming,
and preparing for it, as for that of an expected king : they
will be busied in their ordinary affairs when it is nearest ;
till, suddenly, wide ruin and judgment burst on them, as
the flood on the men of the days of Noah, and the fire from
heaven on Sodom, in the days of Lot, bringing destruction
on alL Men lived in security then ; they ate and drank ;
they married and gave in marriage, with no thought or
preparation for the impending catastrophe.

"It will be the same at my coming. Men will be as secure ;
the day will burst on them as suddenly, when I shall be
revealed in my glory. When it comes, there will be an
awful and instant separation of man from man. The good
and evil will no longer be mixed together. He who would
save himself must, on the moment, part from those whom
the peril threatens. He who lives in a town, must, as the
destruction approaches, so hasten his flight, that if he be on
the housetop when it draws near, he must not think of
going into the house to save anything, but must flee, at the
loss of all earthly possessions. He who is in the open field,

VISION OF THB FUTURE, 363

must not turn back to his house for his goods, but must obap.jjxl
leave all behind him, and escape with his life. You hear
my words : see that, in that day, you give heed to them.
Remember Lot's wife, who perished for looking back, in dis-
obedience to the divine command. Whosoever, in that day,
shall seek to preserve his life, by unfaithfulness to me, shall
lose life eternal, and he who loses this life for my sake, will
secure heaven for ever.

" The separation of men, at my coining, will, indeed, be
solemn ! Those who spent this life together, will then find
themselves parted for ever I I tell you, in that night there
will be two men in one bed ; one will be taken, and the other
left ; two poor slaves will be grinding flour for the house-
hold together ; one will be taken and the other left,"

The Twelve had listened with breathless attention to this
vision of the future. They had heard much that was new,
grand, and fearful, and they trembled with a natural fear at
the awful picture set before them. *'Where, Lord," asked
they, "Avill the Messiah gather His own, that they may be
safe ? Where is the refuge in which those who love Thee
will be received in that day ?"

"Who says to the eagle," replied Jesus, "where the
carcase is? His keen eyes see it from afar. Where the
Messiah will be, and where the gathering place for the saved
wiU be, they will see from afar for whom it is provided, and
with swift flight will betake themselves thither."

The momentous earnestness with which Jesus had so often
spoken of the difficulty of being truly His disciple had sunk
into the hearts of many who heard it, and the free access to
Himself He permitted, must often have been used to seek
counsel on a point so momentous. It was, moreover, a
passion with the Jew to speculate on every question of
theology, as is seen in the vast system elaborated by the
Rabbis. The mysteries of the future world especially en-
grossed them. By the multitude it was taken for granted
that every Israelite, as such, would have a portion in
heaven,^^ but there were not a few others who, like Esdras, " ^^^^
fancied that "The Most High had made this world for »^=^»8i-
many, but the world to come for few : as He had made

•s Luke IS.
S2-S0.

864 THE LIFE OF CHBIST.

cHAP.mL much common earth, but little gold." One in whom His
words had raised such questions, took advantage,^ about this
time, of His readiness to listen to their doubts and inquiries,
to ask Him if more than a few only would be saved, since He
had said it was so hard to be His follower. Instead of
answering, directly, a question which could only gratify
curiosity, Jesus, ever practical, gave His reply a turn which
was much more useful.

"It would benefit you little," said He, "if I answered
your question as you wish : the great matter for you is that
many will not be saved, so that it becomes you to strive,
with intense earnestness, to enter in through the narrow
door that leads to eternal life ; for many, I say unto you,
who would like to enter at last, but do not thus strive now,
will seek to do so when too late and will not be admitted.**
If once you be shut out from the kingdom of the Messiah,
you will in vain plead your external connection with me
now. When the great banquet of heaven begins, the Mes-
siah will cause the door of the banqueting hall to be shut.
If ye, then, come to it and knock at the door, saying ' Lord,
open to us,' He will answer from within, ' I know you not,
whence you are.' If you urge that He has forgotten you,
and that, if He will bethink Him, He will recollect that you
ate and drank in His presence, as companions at the same
table, and that He had taught in your streets. He will only
answer, ' I tell you I know you not, whence ye are. Depart
from me, all ye workers of unrighteousness.'

"What weeping and gnashing of teeth will be there as ye
stand, thus, and see Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, and all
the prophets, in the kingdom of God, and yourselves cast
out ! What wailing, when you see, instead of yourselves,
the heathen you have so despised, come from the east, and
» LokeM. west, and north, and south,^* and sit down at the great feast
of heaven. Believe me, there are many who, now, before
the setting up of my kingdom, are first, who, after it is set
up, will be last ; many, like the heathen who shall enter to
the feast, who will become my disciples only late, and shall
yet take a first place in my kingdom. See that ye press on
while the door is still open to admit you."

THE FOX ANTIPAS. 365

Jesus had now been for some time in Perea,^' in the oHAP^m
territory of Antipas, the murderer of John. The intense " IS^
unpopularity of the crime had, doubtless, been a protection
to. Him but there were many reasons why such a man should
wish the great Wonder Worker, whom he personally feared
so much, as, perhaps, the murdered Baptist, risen from the
dead, fairly out of his dominions. Unwilling to appear in
the matter, he used the Pharisees, counting on their readi-
ness to further his end of getting rid of Him. Some of
their number, therefore, came to Him, with the air of friends
anxious for His safety, and warned him that it would be
well for Him to leave Perea as quickly as possible, as Herod
desired to kill Him.

Jesus at once saw through the whole design, as a crafty
plan of Herod himself to expel Him. He was on his way
to Jerusalem, and contented Himself with showing that He
gave no grounds for political suspicion, and that He quite
well understood how little friendship there was in the advice
the Pharisees had given Him.

" Go and tell that crafty fox," said He, " that I know why
He is afraid of me, and wishes me out of His land. Tell him
there is no cause for his alarm, for I do nothing to wake his
suspicions. I have no designs that can injure him, but
confine myself to driving demons from poor men possessed
with them, and to healing the sick. These harmless labours
I shall not intermit till the time I have fixed to give to them
is over. It will take three days more to pass quite out of
Perea, and for these three days I shall be in his territory,
but on the third day I leave it, for I am now on my way to
Jerusalem, to die there. Herod will not need to trouble
himself to kill me, for it would be unfitting for a prophet to
die outside the holy city." Such a message was virtually
an intimation that He knew that it would be by the hands
of those who pretended kindly to warn Him, and their allies,
that he should perish, and not by those of Antipas.

The word Jerusalem, and the thought of the guilt of the
city so tenderly loved by Him — guilt soon to be increased
by His violent death at its hand, filled His heart with
deep irrepressible emotion.

366 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

OHAP. Lm. " 0 Jerusalem I Jerusalem," cried He, in a louder voice,
trembling with sadness — " it is thou, the City of the Temple,
the City of the Great King, who killest the prophets, and
stonest those whom God sends unto thee I Thou art still true
to thine evil repute ! How often, oh, how often, thou mother
of many children, would I have gathered them all round me
safely, from the dangers before them; as the careful hen
calls together her brood when the shadow of evil falls near, and
spreads her wings over them, and guards them from every
harm ! But thou wouldst not let me do thee this service.
For what shaU come on thee thou must, thyself, bear the
blame! The divine protection I would have given thee
thou hast refused and hast lost, nor will I appear in thy
desolation as thy helper. Thou wilt not see me till I come
to set up in thee my Kingdom, and receive thy homage,
no longer to be denied, — as the Messiah, the Blessed, who
comes in the name of the Lord I "

IN PERBA (continued). 867

CHAPTER LIV,

IN PEREA— (OONTINUBD).

THE lofty demands of Jesus from His followers had filled oh^mv.
the Twelve with doubts and misgivings of their power
to ftilfil them. A continuous self-denial, which thought
only of their Master, and a patient love which returned
meekness and good for evil and injury, were graces slowly
attained ; how much more so when they could only strike
root in the heart after the dislodgement of hereditary pre-
judices and modes of thought ?

A sense of weakness had already led them to ask that
their faith in Jesus as the Messiah ; able to aid them in all
their straits and trials ; might be strengthened. The utter-
ance of that faith in prayer was no less necessary, at once to
obtain the grace needed to bear them through difficulties^
and to raise them to a steadfast confidence in the triumphant
manifestation of their Master's Kingdom, of which He had
more than once spoken. Lest they should grow slack in this
great duty, He reminded them that their whole frame of
mind should be one of habitual devotion, that they might
not become faint-hearted, and give way before the trials they
might have to suffer, or at the seeming delay in His coming.
His words, as usual, took the form of a parable.

"There was in a city," said He, "a judge, who neither feared
God nor reverenced man.^ And there was also a widow in » LnkeiM-a
that city who had an enemy from whom she could hope to
get free only by the interposition of the judge. So she came
often to him, asking him to do justice to her, and maintain
her right against her adversary.^ But he paid no attention, ■ uiimMB, «.
for a long time, to her suit. At last, however, he could bear ml
her constant coming no longer, and said within himself —

368 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

CDAP^. ' Though I should do it as my duty, that does not trouble me,
for I do not pretend to fear God, and care nothing for man ;
Yet this widow torments me, I shall therefore do what is
right in her case for my own sake, for otherwise she will
perfectly weary me by her constant appeals.'*

" So, the widow, by her importunity, obtained her end,
at last.

" Hear what the unjust judge says ! But if men thus get
what is right, even from the worst, if they urge their
suit long enough, with sufficient earnestness ; how can any
one doubt that God, the Righteous One, will ^ve heed to
the cry of His Saints for all they have to suffer ? Will He
not much rather, though He let the enemy rage for what
seems a long time, surely, at the great day, avenge the
wrongs of His elect, who are so dear to Him, and thus cry
in prayer night and day ?

" I tell you, He will be patient towards them, though they
thus cry to Him continually, for He is not wearied with
their complaints, as the unjust judge was with those of the
widow ; and He will deliver them from their enemies, with-
out and within, and give them a portion in the Kingdom of
the Messiah, and that speedily. For when the Messiah comes
it will seem as if the waiting for Him had only been brief.
But when He thus comes, will He find any who still look for
Him, and believe that the promise of His return will be ful-
filled ? Will my disciples endure to the end ; or can it be
that they will fall away before all their trials ? *'

To one of these last days in Perea we are indebted for
the parable of the Pharisee and the Publican. Jesus had
spoken much of prayer, but the religion of the day was so
largely mechanical, that they were in danger of mistaking
the outward form for the substance. Only repeated lessons
could guard them from the lifeless formality of the Rabbis,
with whom the most sacred duties had sunk to Cold outward
rites. Self-righteous pride, moreover, was the characteristic
of much of the current religiousnesss, and was, in fact, a
natural result of the extemalism prevailing. To show the
true nature of devotion pleasing to God, He related the
following parable: —

THE PHARISEE AND PUBLICAN.

S69

" Two men," said He, " went up at the same time, the ohapjjv.
hour of prayer, to the Temple, to pray.® The one was a *

Luke 18. 9— 14
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ChanikterbUd,
196. SohOrer,
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BlbelLez. U.
898.

Duket, 181.
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Pharisee, the other a Publican. The Pharisee, who had
seen the Publican enter the Temple with him, stood apart ;
his eyes towards the Holy of Holies, and began to pray
thus — * 0 God, I thank Thee that I do not belong to the
common multitude of mankind, whom Thou hast rejected —
to the covetous, the unjust, the adulterous. I thank Thee
that I am not what so many men are, what this Publican,
here before Thee, is. He knows nothing of fasting or of
tithes, but I fast every Monday and every Thursday, and I
give the Priests and Levites the tenth, not only of all I
have, but of all I may gain, which is more than the Law
requires.'

" The Publican, meanwhile, feeling that He was a sinner,
stopped far behind the Pharisee, coming no further into the
sacred court than its very edge ; for he shrank from a near
approach to God. Nor could he dare, in his lowly penitence,
to lift up so much as his eyes to heaven, far less his head
and his hands, but, with bent head, smote on his breast in
his sorrow, and said — *God be merciful to me the sinner.'* 4 Thearticie

"The Pharisee had offered only a proud, cold thanks- expreadon

'^ ^ ^ equal to •• Thd

giving for his own merits ; the Publican an humble cry for ^^^
mercy.

"Believe me, this Publican, whom the Pharisee gave a
place among the extortionate, the unjust and the impure, , The»me
received favour from God, and returned to his home forgiven ZSS'by^
and accepted ; but the Pharisee went away unjustified. For, the Simud
as I have often said, every one who thinks highly of himself ^^^y^?
in religious things will be humbled before God, and he who
humbles himself will be honoured before Him."^ . Thoinck.

Among the questions of the day fiercely debated between SS^rwf*
the great rival schools of Hillel and Schammai, no one was ^^j^^,
more so than that of divorce. The school of Hillel con- M?"^to^;
tended that a man had a right to divorce his wife for any li^iSm.
cause he mis:ht assign, if it were no more than his havins: m^her^pre-

o to J ^ & dJgteii,LM8.

ceased to love her, or his having seen one he liked better, or otaSktoi-biid,
her having cooked a dinner badly.^ The school of Schammai, sS^^Sml"'
on the contrary, held that divorce could be issued only for fl*^~tti, i.

•^ ' *f 869. Hillel and

VOIi- IT 63 Jeeu8,a7.

■elf: God ham-
blee him who
exalts himaelf.**

370 * THE LIFE 07 CHBIST.

cHARuv. the crime of adultery, and offences against chastity. If it
were possible to get Jesus to pronounce in favour of either
school, the hostility of the other would be roused, and, hence,
it seemed a favourable chance for compromising Him, to
broach this subject for His opinion.

Some of the Pharisees, therefore, took an opportunity of
raising the question. "Is it lawful," they asked, "to put
away one's wife, when a man thinks fit, for any cause he is
pleased to assign ? Or, do you think there are exceptions to
this rule ? "

There could be no doubt that the lofty morality of Jesus
would condemn a mere human custom which was corrupting
the whole civil and domestic life of the nation, and under-
mining all honour, chastity, and love. He had already
answered the question fully, in the Sermon on the Mount, in
which He had taught that arbitrary divorce was not per-
mitted; but that was long since, and He was now in a
different part of the country. It was quite in accordance
with the habit of the day to appeal to any Rabbi on a
disputed religious question, or scruple, on lighter or weightier
points ; it gratified the universal love for controversy, and
gave an opportunity for showing dialectical wit and sharp-
ness. But the questioners gained little by trying their skill
on Jesus.

'*Have you never read," answered He, " that the Creator
of men made man and woman at the same time, in the very
beginning of our race, and gave them to each other as
y Miitt.i9.>-i2. husband and wife? ^ And do you not know that so intimate
was the relation thus instituted, that, close though the
connection be between parents and children, God has
said that that between man and wife is so much closer,
that a son, who, before, was under his parents, and was
bound more closely to them than to any other persons in the
world, is to separate himself from his father and mother
when he marries, and to form a still nearer relationship with
his wife — such a relationship that the two shall become, as
it were, ,one. As soon as a man and woman are married,
therefore, the two make, together, only one being. But
since it is God who has joined them thus, divorce is the put-

ON DIVORCE. 371

ting asunder by man of what God has made into one. obxp.jjv.
Marriage is a sacred union, and man is not to regard it as
something which he can undo at his pleasure."

Nothing could be said against this from natural grounds,
but the objection lay ready that the Law of Moses was not
so strict, and a prospect offered of forcing Jesus either to
contradict Himself, or to pronounce openly against the
great founder of the nation. "If this be so," said they,
" how comes it that Moses permitted a man to divorce his
wife ? for you know that he says that writings of divorce-
ment might be given where a divorce was wished, and these
dissolved the marriage."

" Moses," replied our Lord, " did, indeed, suffer you to
put away your wives, to prevent a greater evil. He did so
as a statesman and a law-giver, from the necessities of the
age, which made any better law impracticable. Our fathers
were too rude and headstrong to permit his doing more.
But, though he did not prohibit divorce, because the feelings
of the times did not allow him to do so, it does not follow
from this that his action in this matter was the original law
of the Creator, or that conscience and religion sanction
such separations. I say, therefore, that whoever puts away
his wife, except for fornication, which destroys the very
essence of marriage by dissolving the oneness it had formed,
and shall marry another, conmiits adultery ; and whoever
marries her who is put away for any other cause commits
adultery, because the woman is still, in God's sight, wife of
him who has divorced her."

This statement was of far deeper moment than the mere
silencing of malignant spies. It was designed to set forth
for all ages the law of His New Kingdom in the supreme
matter of family life. It swept away for ever from His
Society the conception of woman as a mere toy or slave of
man, and based true relations of the sexes on the eternal
foundation of truth, right, honour, and love. To ennoble
the House and the Family by raising woman to her true
position was essential to the future stability of His Kingdom,
as one of purity and spiritual worth. By making marriage
indissoluble He proclaimed the equal rights of woman and

372 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

cHARLiv. man within the limits of the family, and, in this, gave their
charter of nobility to the mothers of the world. For her
nobler position in the Christian era, compared with that
granted her in antiquity, woman is indebted to Jesus Christ.

When an opportunity offered, the disciples asked fuller
instruction on a matter so grave. Customs or opinions,
supported, apparently, by a national law, and that law
divine; customs, the rightness of which has never before
been doubted, are hard to uproot, however good the grounds
on which they are challenged. Hence, even the Twelve felt
the strictness of the new law introduced by their Master
respecting marriage, and frankly told Him, that if a man
were bound to his wife as He had said, it seemed to them
better not to marry.

"With respect to marrying or not marrying," replied
Christ, " your saying that it is good for a man not to do so
is one which cannot be received by all men, but only by
those to whom the moral power to act on it has been ^ven
by God. Some do not marry from natural causes, and
there are some who voluntarily keep in the single state, that
they may give tiiemselves with an entire devotion to the
service of my Kingdom. Let him among you who feels able
to act on the lofty principle of denying himself the nobility
and holiness of family life, that he may with more entire
devotion consecrate himself to my service, do so." Self-
sacrifice, in this, as in all things, was left by Jesus to the
conscience and heart. Even His apostles were left free to
• icor,a«. marry or remain single, as they chose,^ nor can any depre-
ciation of the married state be wrung from His words,
except by a manifest perversion of their spirit.

It is significant that, in the South as in Galilee, the
mothers of households, though not expressly named, turned
with peculiar tenderness and reverence to the new Prophet
and Rabbi. They were doubtless encouraged to do so by
the sight of the women who now, as always, accompanied
Him on His journeys ; but the goodness that beamed in His
looks, and breathed in His every word, drew them still more.
Indifferent to the hard and often worthless disputes and
questions which engaged the other sex, they sought only a

CHILDBEN BROUGHT TO JESUS. 373

blessing on tlie loved ones of their hearts and homes, con- gharltv.
tented if Jesus would lay His hands on their infants, and
utter over them a word of blessing.

A beautiful custom ^ led parents to bring their children • JJ^^^®- j^^,^
at an early age to the Synagogue, that they might have the mJ^"*
prayers and blessings of the elders. "After the father of Newnin^e

^ *' ° 8ennoiUi,i.44S.

the child," says the Talmud, " had laid his hands on his |^J^^
child's head, he led him to the elders, one by one, and they ^"•
also blessed him, and prayed that he might grow up famous
in the Law, faithful in marriage, and abundant in good
works." ^^ Children were thus brought, also, to any Rabbi «• Buxtorfi
of special holiness, and hence they had been presented already
more than once before Jesus. Now, on this. His last journey,
little children were again brought to Him that He might put
His hands on them, and pray for a blessing on their future
life. To the disciples, however, it seemed only troubling
their Master, and they chid the parents for bringing them.
But the feeling of Christ to children was very different from
theirs. To look into their innocent artless eyes must have
been a relief after enduring those of spies and malignant
enemies. He Himself had the ideal childlike spirit, and He
delighted to see in little ones His own image. Purity,
truthfulness, simplicity, sincerity, docility, and loving de-
pendence, shone out on Him from them, and made them at
all times His favourite types for His followers. The Apostles
needed the lessons their characteristics impressed, and though
He had enforced them before, He gladly took every oppor-
tunity of repeating them.

"Let the little children come to me," said Jesus, "and do
not forbid them, for the Kingdom of Heaven is given only
to such as have a childlike spirit and nature like theirs."
Instead of being too young for the bestowal of His blessing,
He saw in their simplicity and innocence the fond earnest
of the character he sought to reproduce in mankind. The
citizens of His Kingdom must become like them by change of
heart and a lowly spiritual life. Stooping down, therefore.
He took them up in His arms, put His hands on them, and
blessed them. Even the least incidents wei^e thus ever
turned to the highest uses.

etoLinloe.

374 THE UFE OF CHEIST.

QHAP.uv. The need of this childlike spirit, and the sad results of its
absence, must have been brought home to the Apostles by
an occurrence in their next day's journey. Starting south-
wards, on the way to Jerusalem, a young man, whose
exemplary character had already made him a ruler of the
" i£So"ao. ^^^ synagogue, came running after Him,^^ and, approaching
J^io. Him with great respect, kneeled before Him, as was usual
Luke 18. before a venerated Rabbi.^^ "Teacher," said he, "I shall
M Hot. Heb. greatly thank Thee if thou wilt ease my mind. I have
gtaoj/ ^ laboured diligently to do good words of all kinds prescribed
i^t j«m ^y *hi6 TjB^Vj but I do not feel satisfied that I have done
Sr^*u£ enough ; so am not sure, after all, that I shall inherit eternal
SS^nd. ' life in the kingdom of the Messiah, Pray, tell me what
2iinSiS«r. special good work can I do to secure this. '
SSlfei " Why do you ask me what is right to do ? " answered
Jesus. " Your question is superfluous, for it answers itself.
There is only one Absolute Good — ^that is, God. The good
act respecting which you inquire can be nothing else than
perfect obedience to His holy wilL If you really would
enter into life eternal, you must keep the Commandments
given thee by Him."

The young man expected to hear some new and special
conamands, requiring unwonted pains, and securing corres-
pondingly great merit by faultless obedience. The answer
of Jesus was too general to help him in this. He, therefore,
asked — ^What conmiands He particularly meant.

To his astonishment and mortification, instead of naming
some ceremonial injunctions, as the Rabbis would have done,
Jesus simply quoted some of the well-known commandments
of the Second Table— "Thou shalt not kiU," "Thou shalt
not commit adultery," "Thou shalt not steal," "Thou
shalt not bear false witness," " Honour thy father and thy
mother," closing the list with the greatest of all — " Thou
shalt love thy neighbour as thyself," which was thus put
last as the one by which He intended to bring the young
man to the test.

These were only the common duties required of all men,
and, as such, had a conventional fulfilment which satisfied
human standards. Their scope was very different,, how-

THB YOUNG BULBB. 875

ever, in the eyes of Jesus, and this the young man presently oharliv,
felt

His upright and honest life brought no blush at the
enumeration. Without pride, except the secret pride of
self-righteousness, and with all reverent docility, he replied :

. ^* I believe I can say that I have strictly kept all these
commands.^ In what respect do I still come short ? "

The question itself revealed his spiritual deficiencies. It
showed that, however sincere in his efforts after such a life
as would secure heaven, he had not risen above the outward
service of the letter, and had realized neither the spirit of the
commandments as a whole, nor, in particular, the infinite
breadth of that which enjoined love to his neighbour. Had
he seen this in its true grandeur, it would have hinted a
higher moral task than merely legal conceptions of duty
had taught him, and have supplied, at the same time, an
impulse towards its fulfilment.

Jesus read his heart in a moment, and was won by the
guilelessness of his answer and question, and by the evident
worth of his character. As He looked at him, so earnest, so
humble, so admirable in his life and spirit. He loved
him. Could he only stand the testing demand that must
now be made, he would pass into the citizenship of the
kingdom of God.

"You lack one thing yet," said Jesus, therefore, "if you
really wish to be perfect. Had you understood the com-
mands of God in their depth and breadth, you would not
have asked if you could do anything more than you
had done ; their living power in you would have suggested
continually fresh duties. When you ask me to tell you
what next to do, it shows that you think only of tasks im-
posed from without, and do not act from a principle in your
own soul. If your desire for eternal life be supreme, as it
ought to be — ^go home, sell all that you have, and give what
you get for it to the poor, and instead of the earthly
riches thus given in charity, you will have treasure in
heaven. Then, come to me, be my disciple, and bear your
cross after me, as I bear mine."

The demand, great though it seems, was exactly suited to

376 THE LIFE OF CHBI8T.

cHARLiv. the particular case. It was a special test in a special
instance, though underneath it lay the unconditional self-
sacrifice, and self-surrender for Christ, required from all His
disciples. It could not fail to bring the young man to a
clearer self-knowledge, and thus, to a wholly new conception of
what true religion demanded. The only way to lead him to a
healthier moral state was to humble him, by a disclosure of
weakness hitherto unsuspected. He had fancied himself
willing to do whatever could be required : he could now see
if he really were so. He had thought he cared for nothing
in comparison with gaining heaven : he could now judge for
himself if he had not erred.

It might have been hoped that this lofty counsel, the
repetition of that which had been so often given to others
before, would have roused one so earnest to a noble enthu-
siasm, before which all lower thoughts would have lost their
power. The love he had inspired in Jesus must have shown
itself towards him in every look and tone : there must have
been every desire to attract and win : none to repeL But
the one absolute, constant condition of acceptance demanded
from all — supreme, unrestricted devotion to Himself and
His cause, and willingness to sacrifice all human ties and
possessions, or even life, for His sake, could in no case be
lowered. Poor, friendless, outlawed, Jesus abated no jot of
his awful claims, loftier than human monarch had ever
dreamed of making, on all who sought citizenship in His
Kingdom.

The test exacted was fatal, at least for the time. It was pre-
cisely that which the young man had least expected, and was
a thousand times harder than any legal enforcements ; pain-
ful and protracted even as those by which the highest grade
« 8«eToi.L of ceremonial holiness was attained.^^ Had Jesus invited
^*** ' him to be His disciple without requiring the condition He
had so often declared indispensable, there would have been
instant, delighted acceptance. But that could not be. He
could not say " Be my disciple," tiU He had secured his
supreme devotion.

Rich, and already a magistrate — ^for Church and State
with the Jews were identical — ^the demand staggered and

BICHES AND HEAVEN. 377

overwhelmed the young man. A moment's thought, and his ohap.liv.
broad acres, and social position, which he must give up for
ever, if he would follow Jesus, raised a whole army of
hindrances and hesitations. The condition imposed had no
limitation, but neither had his own question to which it was
a reply. He had been touched where weakest, but this was
exactly what his repeated request demanded. Why should
Jesus have asked less from him than from other disciples ?
It was, doubtless, hardet for a rich than for a poor man to
leave all, but there must, in no case, be room for doubt of
the entire sincerity of those admitted as disciples, and this
could be tested only by their readiness to sacrifice all to
become so. It was less, besides, to demand this, as things
were, for discipleship would only too surely involve, very
soon, not only loss of all earthly goods, but life-long trials,
and even death.

But the world got the better in the young man's heart,
and he went away sorrowful, at the thought that he was
voluntarily excluding himself from the kingdom of the
Messiah. Yet, the broad acres : the rich possessions — ^how
could he give them up ?

" How hardly shall they that have riches enter into the
kingdom of God ! " said Jesus, as he went away, evidently
in great mental distress.^* " It is easier," continued He, " to « Mjut i».
use a proverb you often hear, for a camel to go through the w. 28-i«i.
eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the king-
dom of God." «

The words fell with a new and perplexing sound on the
ears of the disciples. Like all Jews, they had been accustomed
to regard worldly prosperity as a special mark of the favour
of God — for their ancient Scriptures seemed always to connect
the enjoyment of temporal blessings with obedience to the
divine law.^^ They still, moreover, secretly cherished the « dwa, cjh. sa
hope of an earthly kingdom of the Messiah, in which riches
would play a great part, and, even apart from all this, if it
were hard to enter the kingdom of heaven, except by stoop-
ing to absolute poverty, it seemed as if very few could be
saved at all.

" Children, how hard is it for them that trust in riches to

378 THE UFB OF CHBIST.

cHARLiv. enter into the kingdom of God,"^ repeated Jesus, seeing their
wonder and evident uneasiness. " It is easier for a camel to
go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man, who clings
to his riches, to enter into the kingdom of God."

" Who, then, can be saved ?" asked some of them.

" With men it is impossible," replied Jesus, fixing His eyes
earnestly on them, " but not with God : for with God all
things are possible. He can bestow heavenly grace to wean
the heart from worldly riches : apart from this, the world
will prevail."

Peter, especially, had listened with deep attention to all
that had passed, and had been mentally applying it to the case
of his fellow disciples and himself. Their minds were still full
of the Jewish idea of merit before God, and of a claim to cor-
responding reward. ^Tien Jesus summoned them to follow
Him, they had been exactly in the young man's position, though
they had not had so much to surrender. They had given up
every thing for Him, at His first invitation — ^their families,
houses, occupations, and prospects. However little in them-
selves, these had been the whole world to them. It seemed only
natural, therefore, that they should have a proportion of that
treasure which Jesus had promised the young man, if he
forsook all for His sake.

In keeping with his natural irank impulsiveness, Peter
could not restrain his thoughts, and asked Jesus directly
what he and his fellow Apostles would have for their loyalty
to Him?

Knowing the honest simplicity of the Twelve, their
Master, instead of reproving their boldness, cheered them
with words which must have sounded inconceivably grand
to GalilaBan fishermen.

" Be assured that at the final triumph of my Kingdom,
when all things shall be delivered from their present cor-
ruption, and restored, through Me and my work, to the glory
they had before sin entered the world : when I, the now
despised Son of Man, shall come again, seated on the throne
of my glory, you who have followed me in my humiliation,
will be exalted to kingly dignity, and shall sit, each of you,
on his throne, to judge the twelve tribes of Israel. Yea,

THE VINETARD LABOUBERS. 379

more : every one who gives up his brethren, or sisters, or ohap. uv.
father, or mother, or children, or lands, or houses, that he
may the more unreservedly spread my Gospel, and honour
my name, will be rewarded a hundred fold. Even in this
present life he will receive back again richly all he has left :
houses, and brethren, and sisters, and mothers, and children ;
for he will find among those who believe in me, a compen-
sation for all : he will regard and be allowed freely to use
their means as his own, and be welcomed by them with more
than brotherly friendship. But, with all this, he will have
to bear persecution.^^ In the future world, moreover, he-ActBi-w.
will have a still greater reward, for there he will inherit
everlasting life."

^'But," added He, by way of warning, " Do not trust to
your having been the first to follow me. For the rewards
of the kingdom of heaven will be like those given by a
householder who had a vineyard, and, needing labourers
for it, went out early in the morning to hire them. Having
found some, he agreed to give them a denarius a day, and
sent them into the vineyard. Going out again about the
third hour — ^nine o'clock — ^he saw others standing idle in the
market-place, and sent them also into the vineyard, making no
bargain with them, however, but bidding them trust him that
be would give them what was just. He did the same at the
sixth and at the ninth hours. Finally, he went out at the
eleventh hour, and found still others standing about, and
asked why they had stayed there all the day, idle. * Because
no one has hired us,' replied they. ^ Go ye also into the
vineyard,' said he, ' and you shall receive whatever is right.'

*' When the evening was come, the lord of the vineyard
bade his overseer call the labourers, and pay them all the
same sum — ^the denarius for which he had agreed with the
first. He was, also, to begin with those who came into the
vineyard last.

"When they came, therefore, who were hired at the
eleventh hour, they received each a denarius. But when the
first came, they supposed they should have received more ;
but they also received each only the same amount. And
when they received it, they murmured against the house-

380 THE LIPB OF CHRIST.

coA^^. holder, saying — ^ Those who came in last did only one hour's
work, and thou hast made them equal to us, who bore the
" stuiiey'i scorchinff wind from the desert at sunrise, ^'^ and the heat of
^ the day.' But he answered one of them, ' Friend, I do thee

no wrong: didst not thou agree with me for a denarius?
Take what is yours, and go : I desire to ^ve the same to
those who came in last, as unto thee. Is it not lawful for
me to do what I will in my own affairs ? Is thine eye evil
because I am good?'

" The householder thus made the first last, and the last
first, because the first had been working for hire, while the
others had simply trusted his promise. He who works in
my kingdom for the sake of a reward hereafter, may do his
work well, but he honours me less than others who trust in
me, without thinking of future gain. The spirit in which
you labour for me gives your service its value. He who is
called late in life, and serves me unselfishly, will stand higher
at the great day than he who has served me longer, but with
a less noble motive. Many are called to join my kingdom
and work in it, but few show themselves by their spirit
»« NewmWB and zeal especially worthy of honour.^® If the first find
gji8. ^ themselves last, it will depend on themselves, for though no
SSiS^IS" ^^^ ^^^ claim reward as his due in the kingdom of God,
2SSpJS5 yet I give it, of favour, to those first who serve me most
!»*». purely. He, I repeat, who works most devotedly, without
thought of reward, will be first, though, perhaps, last to be
called: he will be chosen to honour, while others less
zealous and loving, though earlier called, will remain un-
distinguished."

Nothing could have been more fitted to check any ten-
dency to self-importance and pride, so natural in men raised
to a position so inconceivably above their original station.
Nor was there room, henceforth, for any mercenary thoughts,
even of future reward, for the discharge of their duty. They
could not forget, that, though first to enter the vineyard of
the New Kingdom, they were yet, so far, on a footing with
all who should follow them, that the spiritual worth of their
work, alone determined their ultimate honour. The special
reward promised by their Master was a free gift of God, not

NEARING JEBICHO. 381

the payment of a debt, and depended on their own spirit ohap.uv.
and zeal.

They were now approacliing the end of their journey, for
they were near Jericho, at which the road struck directly
west to Jerusalem. Nisan, the month of the Passover, had
already come, and only a few days more remained of our
Saviour's life. Nature was putting on its spring beauty,
and throngs of early pilgrims were passing to the holy city.
All around was joy and gladness, but, amidst all, a deep
gloom hung over the little company of Jesus. Everything
on the way — the constant disputes with the Rabbis — ^the
warning about Antipas ; the very solemnity of the recent
teachings, combined to fill their minds with an undefined
terror. They had shrunk from visiting Bethany, because it
was near Jerusalem ; for they knew that the authorities were
on the watch to arrest their Master, and put Him to death.
He had had to flee from that village, first to Ephraim, and
then, over the Jordan, to Perea, and yet He was, now, de-
liberately walking into the very jaws of danger. They had
marched steadily southwards through the woody highlands
of Gilead; had passed the rushing waters of the Jabbok
and its tributaries, and had, for a moment, seen, once more,
the spot where John had closed his mission. The distant
mountains of Machaerus now threw their shadows over their
route, and, everywhere, the recollections of the great herald
of their Master met them. Mount Nebo, where Moses was
buried, and the range of Attaroth, where John's mutilated
corpse had been laid to rest, were within sight. Every thing
in the associations of the journey was solemn, and they knew
their national history too well not to fear that, for Jesus, to
enter Jerusalem, would be to share the sad fate of the pro-
phets of old, whom it had received only to murder. It was
clear that there could be but one issue, and no less so that
He was voluntarily going to His death. The calm reso-
lution with which He thus carried out His purpose awed
them; for, so far from showing hesitation. He walked at
their head, while they could only follow with excited
alarm.

Yet, their ideas were still confused, and the hope that

382 THE LITE OF CHBIST.

cpAP.LTv. things might result very differently, still alternated with
their fears. The old dream of an earthly kingdom still
clung to them, and they fancied that, though Jesus might
expect to be killed in the rising of the nation which He
would, perhaps, bring about at the approaching feast^ He
might be more fortunate, and live to establish a great Mes-
sianic monarchy.

To dissipate such an illusion, He had already told them,
twice, exactly what was before Him ; but to prepare them,
if possible, for the shock which the sad realization of His
words was so soon to bring, He once more recapitulated,
with greater minuteness than ever, what He knew, with
divine certainty, awaited His entrance into Jerusalem.

" Behold," said He, " we are going up to Jerusalem, and

the Son of Man will be delivered to the chief priests and

» iiatt.so. scribes, and they will condemn Him to death " ^^ — ^they, and

]^e 18?^"* no others ; for, as heads of the Old Kingdom of God, now

*^"^ corrupt and dying, they had rejected Him — " and they will

deliver Him to the Romans, to mock, and scourge, and

crucify, but the third day He shall rise again."

How hard it is to uproot strong prepossessions was shown
within a few hours. In spite of such repeated warnings,
not only the Twelve, but the others who followed Him, did
not understand what He meant. It is easy for us to do so,
after the event; but to anticipate the explanation thus
given must have been well-nigh impossible to minds pre-
occupied with ideas so radically opposed to it.

The mention of thrones, as in reversion for the Twelve at
" the Coming " of their Master in His glory, had neutralized
the announcement of His death. His open triumph was ex-
pected as very near at hand ; His death they did not under-
stand, and could not reconcile with His other statements,
for, indeed, they did not wish to do so.

Dreams of ambition, thus kindled, had risen, especially in
the minds of James and John, who, with Peter, were the
most honoured of the Apostles. They had been in a better
social position than most of their brethren, and, with
Salome, their mother, had given aU they had, freely, to the
cause of their Master. Ashamed, themselves, to tell Him

AN AMBITIOUS DREAM. 383

their thoughts, they availed themselves of Salome, whom, ohap.liv.
perhaps, He might the more readily hear, as older than
they ; as a woman ; perhaps as His mother's sister ; and as
one who had shown herself, like her sons. His true friend.

She now came, therefore, with them, in secret, and, fall-
ing on her knees, as was the custom where reverence was in-
tended, and as was especially due to one whom she regarded
as the future great Messianic King — told Him she came to
ask a surpassLng favour.^^ "What is it?" asked Jesus. » Matt. 20.

-^ « 20—28. Mark

"Say,' answered she, "that these, my two sons, may sit, w.88-4fi.
like the chief ministers of other kings, on the first step of
Thy throne, at Thy feet, on Thy right hand and Thy left,
when Thou settest up the Kingdom."

So different, as yet, were the two men from what they
were afterwards to become, when they had drunk more
deeply of their Master's spirit !

" You do not understand what your request implies,'^
answered Jesus. " The highest place in my Kingdom can
only be gained by drinking the cup of sore trial, of which I,
myself, shall drink presently, and enduring the same fierce
baptism of sorrow and suffering, even to death, in which I
am to be plunged. Do you think you are able to bear all
that ? "

In simple true-heartedness, both answered, at once, that
they were.

" You shall, indeed," replied Jesus, " drink of my cup,
and be baptized with the same baptism as I, but, in my
Eangdom, no honours can be given from mere favour, as in
kingdoms of the world. Those only can obtain them whose
spiritual greatness has fitted them for them. The way to
secure them is only through supreme self-sacrifice for my
sake, and they are given by my Father to those only who
are thus prepared for them. For such, indeed, they are pre-
pared by Him already."

John and James had striven to hide their selfish and
ambitious request, by coming to Jesus when He was alone,
but the Ten, as was inevitable, soon heard of it, and were
indignant in the extreme at such an unworthy attempt to
forestal them in their Master's favour. Their own ambition,

384 THE LIFIS OF CHBIST.

cHARLiv. at best only suppressed, broke out^ afresh, in a fierce storm
of jealous passion. Such human weakness was sadly out of
place at any time, among the followers of the meek and
lowly Son of Man, but still more so, now, when He stood
almost under the shadow of the cross, and it must have
caused Him the keenest sorrow. Calling the whole Twelve,
offenders and offended, roujid Him, therefore. He pointed
out how utterly they had misapprehended the nature of
His Elngdom, notwithstanding all His teaching through the

11 Anthoritles: paSt yCaXS.^^

oLKd^ " ^^^ ^^^ disputing about precedence in my Kingdom,"

i?m kSIxb said He, " as if it were like the kingdoms of the world. Once

^ M?"iii8. more, let me tell you that it is wholly different. The kings

^^eiB ^^ *^^ heathen nations around us lord it over their subjects,

Sw^ef^ and their magnates, under them, exercise authority often

machf?^ more imperiously than their chiefs. But it is very different

J^^^- in my Kingdom, and a very different spirit must find place

S;*3$.*lJS'aBDLong you, its dignitaries. He who wishes to be great in

SmnOT^^'that Kingdom can only be so by becoming the servant of

the others ; and he who wishes the very highest rank, can

only be so by becoming their slave.® You may see that it

must be so from my own case, your King and Head — ^for I,

the Son of Man, came not to be ministered unto, as other

kings are, but to serve, and to give up even my life as a

ransom for many."

The upland pastures of Perea were now behind them,
and the road led down to the sunken channel of the Jordan,
and the " divine district" ' of Jericho. This small but rich
plain was the most luxuriant spot in Palestine. Sloping
gently upwards from the level of the Dead Sea, 1,350 feet
under the Mediterranean, to the stem background of the
hills of Quarantana, it had the climate of Lower Egypt, and
displayed the vegetation of the tropics. Its fig-trees were
pre-eminently famous : it was unique in its groves of palms
of various kinds : its crops of dates were a proverb : the
balsam-plant, which grew principally here, furnished a
costly perfume, and was in great repute for healing wounds:
maize yielded a double harvest: wheat ripened a whole
month earlier than in Galilee, and innumerable bees found a

JEBICHO. 885

Paradise in the many aromatic flowers and plants, not a few oh^jiv.
unknown elsewhere, which filled the air with odours, and
the landscape with beauty.

Rising like an amphitheatre from amidst this luxuriant
scene, lay Jericho, the chief place east of Jerusalem — at
seven or eight miles distance from the Jordan— on swelling
slopes, seven hundred feet above the bed of the river, from
which its gardens and groves, thickly interspersed with
mansions, and covering seventy furlongs from north to
south, and twenty from east to west, were divided by a
strip of wilderness. ^^ The town had had an eventful history. « s^p^Y.m
Once the stronghold of the Canaanites, it was still, in the
days of Christ, surrounded by towers and castles. Thrax
and Taurus, two of them, at the entrance of the city, lay in
ruins since the time of Pompey, but the old citadel Dock
still stood— dark with the recollection that its heroic builder
Simon Maccabseus, and his two sons, had been murdered in
its chambers. Kypros, the last fortress built by Herod the
Great, who had called it after his mother, rose white in the
sun on the south of the town. The palace of the Asmonean
kings towered amidst gardens; but it had been deserted
by royalty since the evil genius of her house, Alexandra,
the mother-in-law of Herod, and mother of Mariamne, had
lived in it. The great palace of Herod, in the far-famed
groves of palms, had been plundered and burned down in
the tumults that followed his death, but in its place a still
grander structure, built by Archelaus, had risen amidst still
finer gardens, and more copious and delightful streams. A
grand theatre and spacious circus, built by Herod, scanda-
lized the Jews, not less by their unholy amusements than
by the remembrance that the elders of the nation had been
shut up in the latter by the dying tyrant, to be cut down at
his death in revenge for the hatred borne him. Nor was the
murder of the young Asmonean, Aristobulus, in the great
pools which surrounded the old Asmonean palace, forgotten ;
nor the time when Cleopatra had wrung the rich oasis from
the hands of Herod, by her spell over her lover, Antony. A
great stone aqueduct of eleven arches brought a copious
supply of water to the city, and the Roman military road
yoL. n. 64

386

THE LIFE OF CHBIST.

from Wbier,
Heraog,
Smith,
Schenkel,
BShr, Hftoi-

andothen.

ooAF.uT. ran through it. The houses themselves, however, though
showy, were not substantial, but were built mostly of sun-
dried brick, like those of Egypt; so that now, as in the
similar cases of Babylon, Nineveh, or Egypt, after long

Tbb doKTip. desolation hardly a trace of them remains.^

tloa is taken "^

A great multitude accompanied Jesus as He drew near
Jericho — ^pilgrims, on foot, or on asses, or camels ; who had
come from all the side passes, and cross roads, of Perea and
Galilee. They met at this central point to go up to the
Passover, at Jerusalem : not a few with an eye to the trade
driven so briskly in the Holy city at this season, with
foreign pilgrims, — as well as for devotion.

Near the gate of the town one of the last miracles of our
Lord was performed. All the roads leading to Jerusalem,
like the Temple itself, were much frequented at the times
of the feasts, by beggars, who reaped a special harvest from
the charity of the pilgrims.

Blindness is specially frequent in the East. While in
northern Europe there is only one blind in a thousand, in
Egypt there is one in every hundred ; indeed, very few
persons there have their eyes quite healthy. The great
changes of temperature at different times of the day, especi-
ally between day and night, cause inflammation of the eyes,
as well as of other parts, both in Palestine and on the Lower
Nile ; while neglect and stupid prejudice, refusing or slight-
ing remedies in the earlier stages, lead to blindness in many
cases that otherwise might have been easily cured.^*

Among the beggars who had gathered on the sides of the
road at Jericho were two who had thus lost their sight : one
of whom only, by name Bar-Tim8BUs,^ for some special
reason, is particularly noticed by two of the Gospels, in the
incident that followed.^*

They had probably heard of the cure, at Jerusalem,
8«-«;i9.i. q£ ^Yxe man who had been born blind, and learning now
from the crowd that the great wonder-worker was passing
by, at once appealed to Him as the Son of David — the
Messiah — to have mercy on them. The multitude tried in
vain to silence them : they only cried the louder. At last,
Jesus came near, and, standing still, commanded them to be

» BlbolLeK^
Art.
t'BUndliBil

» IbttSO.
2»-M. Mark
10. 46—53.
Lake 18.

ZACC&fius. 387

brought. In a moment their upper garment, which would ohap.my.
have hindered them, was cast aside, and, leaping up, they
stood before Him with their artless tale ; that they believed
He could open their eyes, and they prayed He would do so.
A touch sufficed: immediately their eyes received sight
again, and they joined in the throng that followed their
Healer.

Jericho was a Levitical city, and hence the residence of a
great many priests : its position as the centre of an excep-
tionally productive district, and also of the import and
export trade between the two sides of the Jordan, made it,
also, a city of publicans. It had much the same place in
Southern Palestine as Capernaum — the centre of the trade
between the sea-coast and the northern interior, as far as
Damascus — ^held in Galilee. The transit to and fro of so
much wealth brought with it proportionate work and har-
vest for the farmers of the revenue. Hence, a strong force
of customs and excise collectors was stationed in it, under a
local head, named ZacchsBus, whom, in our day, we might
have called a commissioner of customs. In a system so
oppressive and arbitrary as the Roman taxation, the inhabit-
ants must have suflFered heavily at the hands of such a com-
plete organization. To be friendly with any of their number
was not the way to secure the favour of the people at large.

Zacchaeus, especially, was disliked and despised, for, though
a Jew, he had grown rich by an infamous profession,
and was, in the eyes of his fellow-townsmen, not only an
extortioner, but, by his serving the Romans, a traitor to
his race, and to their invisible king, Jehovah. His personal
character, moreover, seems to have been bad, for he owned
to Jesus that he had, at least in some cases, wrung money
from his fellow-townsmen by swearing falsely against them
before the magistrates.

Jesus had seldom passed that way, and hence His person
was little known, though report had spread His name widely.
Among others, ZacchaBus was anxious to see Him,^^ and, «Lokei0.>-«.
being a little man, he had run before the caravan with which
Jesus was entering the town, and had taken his station
in one of the ever-green fig-trees — a sycamore— of which

888 THE UFE OF CHRIST.

OHAP.MV. some grew at the wayside, of great size — a few even fifty
feet in circumference. They were easy to dimb, from their
short trunks and wide branches, forking out in all direc-

» Trtottam, 8W. tioHS.^'^

He had never seen Jesus ; but he was not the less known
to Him, and must have been astounded when the Great
Teacher, as He passed the spot, looked up, and, addressing
him by name, told him to make haste and come down, as He
«• j6imi,89. intended to be his guest that night.^® A divine purpose of
mercy, as yet known to Jesus alone, had determined this
self-invitation. Though all others shunned the chief of the
publicans as specially disreputable, he was chosen in loving
pity by Jesus, as His host. The word was enough : in an
instant he was on the ground, and pressingly welcomed
Christ to his hospitality. That he, the hated and despised
one, should have been thus favoured, in a moment won his
heart, and waked the impulse of a new and better life ; but
it also raised the hostile feeling of the multitude. Voices
on every side were heard murmuring that " He was gone, in
defiance of the Law, and of public feeling and patriotic duty,
to lodge with the chief publican."

They little knew the mighty change His having done so
had, in a moment, wrought in a soul hitherto degraded and
lost, not less by an ignoble life, than by the social proscrip-
tion which barred all hope of self-recovery. Christ had
completely overcome him, for He had treated him as a man,
with respect, and shown him that the way still lay open, even
to him, to a new and better future. The two had meanwhile,
apparently, reached the court of Zacchaeus' house, and the
crowd pressed closely round as Jesus was about to enter a
dwelling, the threshold of which no respectable Jew would
think of crossing. He was braving a harsh public opinion,
and incurring the bitterest hatred of the Jewish religious
leaders, by openly disregarding the laws of ceremonial
defilement, and by treating with respect one whom they
denounced as accursed. Zacchseus was overpowered with
a sense of the unselfish magnanimity which could prompt
such treatment of one who had no claim to it. He would
signalize the event by an open and public vow. Standing

A HBABT WON.

389

before the crowd, therefore, he* addressed Christ — " Lord, I
feel deeply the honour and loving service you do me, and
I hereby vow that I shall give one-half of my goods to the
poor, to show how much I thank Thee. And, still more, if,
as I lament to think has been the case, I have ever taken
any money from any one by false accusation, I promise to
repay him four-fold — ^the highest restitution that even
Soman law demands from one guilty of such an offence."

"This day is salvation come to this house," said Jesus, as
he heard such words, ^^ "for this man — sinner though he*
be — is, nevertheless, a son of Abraham, and now shows him-
self humbled and penitent. I came to seek and to save
that which was lost, and I rejoice to have won back to the
fold of God, a child of Israel, who had wandered so far from
Him." He had foreseen the whole incident, by His divine
power, and calmly ignored all recognition of caste or class
when a human soul was to be won.

"Before you leave," H^ continued, still addressing the
crowd in the court-yard, or outside it, " let me tell you a
parable. I know what is in your thoughts. You see that
I am near Jerusalem, and suppose I shall take advantage of
the Passover, when such vast throngs of Jews are in the holy
city, to proclaim the kingdom of the Messiah in the way
you expect, by insurrection and force. Let me set before
you the truth."

With that marvellous power of turning every incident to
practical account which marked His teaching, he proceeded
to repeat a parable borrowed, in many particulars, from fa<;ts
in their recent or passing national history.^^ Archelaus had ••
set out for Rome, most likely from Jericho itself, not many
years before, to obtain investiture in the kingdom left to
him by the will of his father Herod, and the Jews had sent
a fruitless embassy after him, to prevent his obtaining it
All the princes of the house of Herod had, indeed, been only
vassals of Rome, and had had to go to the imperial city, in
each case, to seek their kingdom as a gift from the Roman
senate.

" A certain man," said He, " of noble birth, went to a
distant country to receive for himself the dignity of king

OHAP. UV.

Land and
Book,S8.

161,66. Bfbel
Lex. T. 494.
Sohenkel*B
Charakter-
bUd, 197.
Bibel Lex. It.
Sd6. Bobert-
■QD'eSer-
momi, 1. 70 ;
1L218.
Schleierw
maoher^B
Predifften, ill.
SOS. iLebn,
Hi. 47. Hana-
rath,LS66.

Bamngurten,
268. Sehttni^
237. Haoa-
nttli,L861,
168. Kfitan,
UL H 212.
8epi)L y. 404.
TheOom-
mentatleat

390 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

oHAP.ijv. over his former fellow-citizeris, and then to return. Before
doing so, he called ten of his servants, from whom, as such, he
had the right to expect the utmost care for his interests in
his absence. He proposed, in his secret mind, to entrust
them with a small responsibility, by their discharge of which
he could judge, when he returned, of their fitness and worthi-
ness to be put into positions of greater consideration; for he
wished to choose from them his future chief officers.

" In the meantime he gave them, each, only a mina, one
hundred drachmae,** and said to them, * Trade with this, on
my account, till I return.' If they proved to be faithful in
this small matter, he would be able to advance them to
higher trusts.

" It happened, however, that he was so unpopular, that
his fellow-citizens, in their hatred of him, sent an embassy
after him to the supreme power, complaining against him,
and contemptuously declaring that they would not have
such a man to rule over them. * But their embassy failed,
for, in spite of it, he obtained the province, and waa appointed
their king.

"On his return, after he had thus received the government,
he ordered the servants to whom he had given the money to
be called before him, that he might know what each had
gained by trading. The first came and said, * Lord, thy
mina has gained ten.' 'Well done, good servant,' replied
his master, * because thou wast faithful in a very little,
be thou governor of ten cities.' The second came, saying,
* Lord, thy mina has gained five.' * Be thou governor
of five cities,' replied his master. But another came and
said, ' Lord, here is thy mina, I have kept it safely tied up
in a napkin : you will find it just as I got it. I did not
know what to do with it, and I was afraid of thee ; for I know
you are a hard man in money matters, looking for great
profits where you have laid out next to nothing, — taking
up, as they say, what you had not put down, and, if needs
be, reaping where you had not sown, — ^making good your
loss, if there were any, at his expense who caused it^ — and so,
to keep myself safe, I thought it best to run no risk one way
or other.'

THE TEN TALENTS. 391

" * I will judge you out of your own mouth, wicked ser- Qh&p.ltv:
vant/ replied his master ; ' You say you knew I was a hard
man in money matters, seeking gain where I had laid no-
thing out to secure it, and reaping where others have sown, —
why then did you not at least give my money to some exchan-
ger to use at his table, that thus, on my return, I might have
got it back with interest?' Then, turning to the servants stand-
ing by, he continued, ' Take from him the mina, and give
it him that has ten.' * He has ten already,' muttered the
servants, half afraid. But the king went on in his anger,
without heeding them, — ' I tell you that to every one who ,
shows his fitness to serve me, by having already increased
what I at first gave him, I shall give more ; but I shall take
away what I first gave, from him, who, by adding nothing
to it, has proved his unfitness to use what might be put in
his hands.'

" ^ As to my enemies, who did not wish me to reign over
them, bring them hither, and put them to death in my
presence.' "

The lessons of the parable could hardly be misunderstood.
To the Jewish people, who would not receive Him as the
Messiah, they spoke in words of warning alarm ; but the
Twelve, themselves, heard a solemn caution. They had each,
in being selected as an apostle, received a sacred trust, to be
used for his Master's interests, till the coming again in glory.
Well for him, who, when his Lord returned to judgment,
could give a good account of his stewardship ; woe to him
who had neglected his trust! Though called to the same
honour at first as the others, as an apostle, he would be
stripped of his rank, and receive no share in the glory and
dignities of the Messianic kingdom. As to the Jews who
rejected Him, His coming would be the signal for the sorest
judgments.

Having finished his brief stay in Jericho, Jesus set out,
once more, on his journey of calm, self-sacrificing love, to
Jerusalem, going on before the multitude in his grand con-
sciousness of victory beyond thought. Many had already
gone up to the Holy City, for not a few needed to be there
some time before the feast, to prepare themselves to take part

392 THE UFE OF CHBIST.

oHAP.iiv, in it, by purifications necessary from various causes. Lepers,
for example, who were cured, but had not been pronoimced

■I Emod, T. 491. clean by the priests,*^ and many others, were in this position.
Great numbers, moreover, doubtless went up early, for pur-
poses of trade with the first arrivals of pilgrims from abroad.
Meanwhile, all classes alike, in Jerusalem, discussed the

ajohnu. probability of Christ's coming to the feast ®^ The excite-
ment among the people was evident, and increased the alarm
of the hierarchical party, for how could they withstand Him,
if He once gained general popular support ? The advice of
Caiaphas had, therefore, been accepted as the policy of the
party at large, and orders had been issued that He should be
arrested at once, when found. It was even required that any
one who knew where He was, should report it, with a view to
His apprehension.

In the midst of this commotion, Jesus quietly entered

« John 12. 1, Bethany,^ on the sixth day before the Passover. It was,
however, impossible for Him to remain concealed. The news
passed from mouth to mouth, and the street of the village
soon became thronged with visitors, who came, not only to
see Him, but tiO see Lazarus also, whom they heard He had
raised from the dead. The high priests began to question
whether they could not manage to put him, also, to death.
The sight of him was winning many disciples to Jesus. They
would try.

PALM suin>AT. 398

ohap.lv.

CHAPTER LV.

PALM SUNDAY.

THE long caravan of pilgrims that had accompanied Jesus
up the wild gorge of the Kedron, from Jericho, had
been left at Bethany ; some pressing on to Jerusalem, others
striking, their tents, as fancy pleased them, in the pleasant
dell below the village, or on the western slope of the Mount
of Olives, where they could feast their eyes vdth a sight of
Jerusalem. It was the eve of the Sabbath, and that night
and the next day were sacred. The journey from Jericho
had been exhausting. A steep and narrow bridle-path,
threading the precipitous defile, had been the only road.
It was the scene of the parable of the Good Samaritan.
The khan, where the wounded man was sheltered, had been
passed half way. Lonely ascents, between bare rocks, with
the worst footing, had only been left behind when Bethany
and Bethphage,^ on the eastern spur of the Mount of Olives, » M»tt«i.i-.n.
came in sight. The journey was over before three in the jy^^y-
afternoon, for it was the rule to have three hours of rest Srieiii^^
before the Sabbath began, at six. In Bethany Jesus was at
home. It was the village of Lazarus, and Martha, and
Mary. The fifteen nfiiles from Jericho had been a continual
climb of over three thousand feet, but He could now rest
with His friends, through the Sabbath.^ Before the next He t Prid»y
would be crucified. And He knew it. JShm?^

" . NiflAn (80—81

This glimpse of sweet rest over — the last He would enjoy ^**™*^>-
before the awful end ; the first act in the great tragedy —
His triumphal entry into Jerusalem* — fitly led the way to » Saturday

Bonaet

ran-

.1 i .• see to Sunday

the great consummation. Kmaet, loth

In these last months He had more and more openly as- JJg^"^^'*
sumed the supreme dignity of Messiah. With wise caution

394 THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

oHAP. Lv, He had at first refrained from a sudden proclamation of His
office, and had carefully shunned popular excitement even
by the publication of His miracles; that His words — ^which
were the true seed of His kingdom — ^might get time to root
themselves, and bear fruit among the people, before the in-
evitable opposition of the ecclesiastical authorities brought
His work to a close. He had never, however, refused the
title when given Him, or the honours, from time to time
paid Him as the Christ. He had even revealed Himself to
the woman of Samaria, to the Apostles, first, on the Sea of
Galilee, and afterwards, with impressive solemnity, at CaBsarea
Philippi ; and, latterly, more than once, to His enemies, as
the Head of the New Kingdom of God. But, as yet. He had
made no public, or, as it were, official declaration of His claims
and rights as the Messiah, and till this was done, there still
wanted a formal proclamation of His kingdom before Israel
and the world. Till it had been done, moreover, the
heads of the moribund theocracy could not be said to have
had the choice openly given them, as the representatives of
the religious past, to accept Him as the Messiah, or definitely
to reject Him.

He had, therefore, determined, with calm deliberation,
and consciousness of what it involved, to enter Jerusalem
publicly, with such circumstance as would openly an-
nounce His claim to be the Messiah. He would also
perform specific Messianic acts, in the very citadel of
the theocracy, and under the eyes of the haughty, and
«F.o.BfcM,88. yet alarmed, hierarchy.* He would enter as a king, but,

SIl"**^*''*"' as the Prince of Peace, giving no real pretence for any
charge of political design, but clearly, as king only in a
spiritual sense. He had no longer any reason to conceal
from the authorities whom He really was, and felt Himself
to be.

The companies of pilgrims from the various towns and
districts of Palestine, or from Je^vish settlements abroad,
were wont to make public entries into the city before
the great feasts. Such an entry Jesus would make ; Him-
self its central figure. It would be a day of joy and glad-
ness to Himself and to others, as when a king enters on his

JEWISH ROYALTY. 895

kingdom. He would no longer check the popular feeling ohap.lv.
in His favour. His last entry to the Holy City, at the
Feast of Tabernacles, had been designedly secret ; but this
should be in exact contrast, for He knew that BQs kingly
work was now over, so far as He, Himself, could complete it,
and the enthusiasm of wiUing consecration to death, as His
path to eternal triumph, filled Him with a serene and vic-
torious joy. Misconception of His claim would be impos-
sible in honest minds, in the face of facts. Israel should
now see Him come openly, as He, who, alone, if they frankly
accepted Him, could save them, by leading them as a
nation, to true repentance, and a higher spiritual life. He
knew, beforehand, that they would not, but His work could
not be said to be completely ended till He had given them
and their leaders this last public opportunity.

Hitherto He had entered the Holy City on foot ; this day
He would do so as David and the Judges of Israel were
woht — ^riding on the specially Jewish ass. Nor must we
think of Western associations in connection with the name.
In the East, the ass is in high esteem. StateUer, livelier,
swifter than with us, it vies with the horse in favour.
Among the Jews it was equally valued as a beast of burden ;
for work in the field or at the mill; and for riding. In con-
trast to the horse, which had been introduced by Solomon,
from Egypt, and was used especially for war, it was the
symbol of peace.*^ To the Jew it was peculiarly national, • ewis'b
for had not Moses led his wife, seated on an ass, to Egypt; |^*^*"- *
had not the Judges ridden on white asses ; and was not the fjj^^
ass of Abraham, the friend of God, noted in Scripture?
Every Jew, moreover, expected, from the words of one of
the prophets, that the Messiah would enter Jerusalem,
poor, and riding on an ass.^ No act could be more per^- • zech. ». ».
fectly in keeping with the conception of a king of Israel, and gjg)"*"**'-
no words could express more plainly that that king pro-
claimed Himself the Messiah.*

On the early morning of Sunday, the tenth of Nisan — the
Jewish Monday, therefore — Jesus and the Twelve left their
hospitable shelter at Bethany, and passed out to the little
valley beneath, with its clusters of fig, almond, and olive trees,

396 THE UFB OF CHRIST.

ohap.lv. goon to burst into leaf; and its ever-green palms. Some-
where near lay the larger village of Bethphage ; like Bethany^
so close to Jerusalem as to be reckoned, in the Rabbinical law,
a part of it. Secret disciples, such as the five hundred who
afterwards gathered to one spot in Galilee, and the hundred
» 1 Got. 15. 6. aud twcuty who met, after the resurrection,^ in the upper
room in the Holy City, were scattered in many places. At
least one such lived in Bethphage. Jesus, therefore, now
sent two disciples thither ; telling them that^ immediately
on entering it, they would find a she ass tied, and her colt
standing by her. "Loose and bring them to me," said He,
"and if any one make a remark, say that the Lord needs them,
and he will send them at once." His supernatural power had
rightly directed them. The ass and its colt were found, and
the ready permission of their owner — ^no doubt a disciple

• Fnr