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TILE
LIFE OF CHRIST
BY TIHE
REV. WILLIAM HANNA, D.D., LL.D.
VOL. I.
EARLIER YEARS,
AND
MINISTRY IN GALILEE.
NEW  YORK:
ROBERT CARTER AND BROTHERS.
630 BROADWAY.
1876.




Cambridge:
Press of yohn Wilson and Son.




THE EARLIER YEARS
OF
OUR LORD'S LIFE ON EARTH.








CONTENTS.
PAGU
THE AmNUNCIATIO-MARY mm ELIZA.             ETET.....  I
THE NAT'VI...................................... 2C
THE PRESENTATION IN THE TPLE....................... 44
THE VISIT OF THE MAGI.......................... 65
THE MASSACRE OF THE INNOCENTS, AND THE FLIGHT
mNTO EGYPT.................................... 89
THE THIRTY YEARS AT NAZARETH-CHRIST AMONG THE
DOCTORS.......................................   110
THEim FORERUNNER...................................  131
THE BAPTISM...................................... 158
THE TEMPTATION....................... 179
THE FIRST DISCIPLES.......................... 207
THE FIRST MIRACLE................................. 231
THE CLEANSING OF THE TEMPLE..................... 255
THE CONVERSATION WITH NICODEMUS................. 274
THE WOMAN OF SAMARIA............................ 297
TnE JEWISH NOBLEMAN AND THE ROMAN CENTURION.. 321
THE POOL OF BETHESDA............................ 340
THE SYNAGOGUE OF NAZARETH...................... 360
FIRST SABBATH IN CAPERNAUM, AND FIRST CIRCUIT OF
GTAMLLEE............................... 379








GENERAL PREFACE.
TiE Lectures of which these volumes consist were all
written in the course of weekly preparation for the pulpit,
and are given as they were delivered Sunday after Sunday
to an ordinary but well-educated Christian congregation.
This fact will sufficiently explain the presence in them of
much that might otherwise be regarded as irrelevant or
superfluous, and the absence of much that might otherwise
have been deemed essential.
Using the best critical helps, home and foreign, that
were within his reach, the writer was, in the first instance,
at pains to read aright and harmonize the accounts given
by the differeit Evangelists. Out of the materials so
supplied, his aim has been to construct a continuous narrative of the leading incidents in our Saviour's life - presented in such a form as might bring out as vividly as
possible, not only the sequence and connection of the
events, but the motives and feelings of the different actors
and spectators, dwelling especially upon every thing that
served to exhibit or illustrate the great Central Character.
Seven years ago a portion of these Lectures was published in a volume entitled The Last Day of our Lords'
Passion.




,n               GENERAL PREFACE.
The favorable reception given to this volume, its trans.
lation into the Dutch, French, and German languages,
and its adoption for circulation by two of the leading Societies for the diffusion of Christian literature on the Continent, encouraged the author to persevere and to issue
annually, in succession, the five additional volumes by
which the series is now completed.
Although ever bearing in mind the attempts that in
recent years have been made to impugn the credibility or
reduce the significance of the Gospel narrative, the writer
has abstained from all historical, critical, and doctrinal
discussions, as alien from his object. He trusts, however,
t.at such a simple recital of the incidents in Christ's life
as the following pages present, may help to create or to
deepen the conviction that the natural and supernatural
are so inseparably interwoven in the narrative that if you
take away the latter you leave the former inexplicable -
the blending of the two being essential to the coherence
and consistency of the record; and that the human and the
divine so meet and mingle in the complex character of our
Lord, and in their combination were so singularly illustrated in his words and acts, that if his divinity be denied,
his humanity becomes mutilated, stained, and degraded.
EDINBURGH, 6 CASTLE TERRACU
15th October, 1869.




THE ANNUNCIATION —MARY AND ELIZABETH.*
IN the sixth month"-half a year from the
time when, within the holy place at Jerusalem, he had stood on the right side of the altar of
incense, and announced to the incredulous Zacharias the birth of the Baptist-the angel
Gabriel was sent to an obscure Galilean village
to announce a still greater birth, —that of- the
Divine Redeemer of mankind. As we open,
then, the first page in the history of our Lord's
earthly life, we come at once into contact with
the supernatural. The spirit-world unfolds
itself; some of its highest inhabitants become
palpable to sense, and are seen to take part in
human affairs. In the old patriarchal and prophletic ages angels frequently appeared conversing with Abraham and Hagar, and Lot and
Jacob; instructing in their ignorance, or com* Luke i 26-56.




2           TiE ANNUNCIATION.
forting in their distress, or strengthening in
their weakness Joshua and Gideon, and Elijah
and Daniel and Zechariah. Excluding, however, those instances in which it was the Angel
of the Covenant who appeared, the cases of angelic manifestation were comparatively rare, and
lie very thinly scattered over the four thousand
years which preceded the birth of Christ
Within the half century that embraced this life
we have more instances of angelic interposition
than in all the foregoing centuries of the world's
history. At its opening and at its close angels
appear as taking a special interest in events
which had little of outward mark to distinguish
them. Gabriel announces to Zacharias the
birth of John, to Mar.y the birth of Jesus. An
angel warns Joseph in a dream to take the
young child down to Egypt. On the night of
the great birth, and for the first time on earth,
a multitude of the heavenly host is seen. In
the garden of Gethsemane, an angel comes to
strengthen our Lord in his great agony. On
the morning of the Resurrection angels appear
now sitting, now standing, within and without
the sepulchre, as if they thronged around the
place where the body of the Lord had lain.
When from the top of Olivet the cloud carried




THEi ANNUNCIATION.          3
the rising Jesus out of the apostles' sight, two
angels stand beside the apostles as they gaze
so steadfastly up into the heavens, and foretell
his second coming. Nor do they withdraw
from human sight when the ministry of our
Lord has closed. Mingling with the other
miraculous agency whereby the kingdom of
Christ was established and extended, theirs
appears. An angel releases Peter, commissions
Philip, instructs Cornelius, smites Herod, stands
amid the terrors of the shipwreck before Paul.
Is there aught incredible in this? If there
be indeed a world of spirits, and in that world
Christ fills the place our faith attributes to him;
if in that world there be an innumerable company of angels; if the great design of our
Lord's visit to this earth was to redeem our
sinful race to God, and unite us with the unfallen members of his great family-then it was
not unnatural that those who had worshipped
around his throne should bend in wonder over
his cradle, stand by his side in his deep agony,
roll away the stone rejoicing from.his sepulchre, and attend him as the everlasting doors
were lifted up, when, triumphant over death
and hell, he resumed his place on the eternal
throne. When the father brought his first




4            THE ANNUNCIATION.
begotten into the world, the edict was, "Let
all the angels of God worship him." Shall we
wonder, then, that this worship, in one or two
of its acts, should be made manifest to human
vision, as if to tell us what an interest the Incarnation excited, if not in the minds of men,
in another and higher branch of the great
community of spirits? From the beginning
angels were interested spectators of what transpired on earth. When under the moulding
hand of the Great Creator the present economy
of material things was spread forth —so good,
so beautiful-they sang together, they shouted
for joy. When sin and death made their dark
entrance, angels stood by, hailing the first
beams of light that fell upon the darkness,
welcoming the first human spirit that made its
way into the heavenly mansions. The slow
development of the divine purposes of mercy
in the history of human redemption, they
watched with eager eye. Still closer to our
earth they gathered, still more earnest was
their gaze as the Son of the Eternal prepared
to leave the glory he had with the Father that
he might come down and tabernacle as a man
among us. And when the great event of his
Incarnation at last took place, it looked for




THE ANNUNCIATION.          5
a short season as if they were to mingle visibly
in the affairs of men, and of that new kingdom
which the Ancient of Days set up. It was the
Son of God who brought these good angels
down along with him. He has mediated not
only between us and the Father, but between us and that elder branch of the great
commonwealth of spirits, securing their services
for us here, preparing us for their society hereafter. He has taught them to see in us that
seed out of which the places left vacant by the
first revolt in heaven are to be filled. He has
taught us to see in them our elder brethren,
to a closer and eternal fellowship with whom
we are hereafter to be elevated. Already the
interchange of kindly offices has commenced.
Though since he himself has gone they have
withdrawn from human vision, they have not
withdrawn from earthly service under the Redeemer. Are they not all ministering spirits
sent forth to minister to them who shall be heirs
of salvation? Who shall recount to us wherein
that gracious ministry of theirs consists? who
shall prove it to be a fancy, that as they waited
to bear away the spirit of Lazarus to Abraham's
bosom, they hover round the death-bed of the
believer still, the tread of their footstep, the




6           THE ANNUNCIATION.
stroke of their wing unheard as they waft the
departing spirit to its eternal home?
" The angel Gabriel was sent from God unto
a city of Galilee, named Nazareth, to a virgin
espoused to a man, whose name was Joseph,
of the house of David; and the virgin's name
was Mary." Little information is given in the
Gospels as to the previous history either of
Joseph or Mary. He, we are told, was of the
house of David, of royal lineage by direct descent; but that line now fallen so low that he
was but a village tradesman, a carpenter.
Mary too, we have reason to believe, was also
of the royal stock of David; yet in so humble
a condition of life as made it natural that'she
should be betrothed to Joseph. This betrothal
had taken place, and the new hopes it had excited agitate the youthful Mary's heart. She
is alone in her dwelling, when, lifting up her
eyes, she sees the form of the angel, and hears
his voice say unto her: "Hail, thou that art
highly favored, the Lord is with thee: blessed
art thou among women." To Zacharias he
had spoken at once by name, and had proceeded without prelude to deliver the message
with which he had been charged. He enters
more reverently this humble abode at Nazareth




THE ANNUNCIATION.         7
than he had entered the holy place of the great
Temple at Jerusalem. He stands more reverently before this youthful maiden than before
the aged priest. He cannot open to her his
message till he has offered her such homage as
heavenly messenger never paid to any member
of our race. Is it any wonder that saluted so
by one who, wearing, as in all likelihood he
did, our human form, was yet like no man she
had ever seen, Mary should have been "troubled at his saying,"-troubled as she felt the
privacy of her seclusion thus invaded, and
looked upon that strange, unearthly, yet most
attractive form which stood before her? She
is not so troubled however as to hinder her
from casting in her thoughts " what manner of
salutation this should be." She receives the
salutation in silence, with surprise, with awe,
with thoughtful wonder. In sympathy with
feelings depicted in her alarmed yet inquiring
countenance, Gabriel hastens to relieve her
fears, and satisfy her curiosity. "Fear not,"
he says, after a brief pause. "'Fear not,
Mary;" the very familiar mention of her name
carrying with it an antidote against alarm.
" Fear not, Mary; for thou hast found favor
with God. And, behold, thou shalt conceive




8           THE ANNUNCITION.
in thy womb, and bring forth a son, and shalt
call his name Jesus. He shall be great, and
shall be called the Son of the Highest; and the
Lord God shall give unto him the throne of his
father David: and he shall reign over the house
of Jacob for ever; and of his kingdom there
shall be no end."
There was scarce a mother in Israel, in those
days, who did not cherish it as the very highest
object of desire and ambition to be the mother
of the promised Messiah. Mary was a mother
in Judah, and the man to whom she was betrothed belonged also to that stock from which
the Messiah was to spring. Perhaps the hope
had already dawned that this great honor
might be in store for her. Her devout and
thoughtful habits had made her familiar with
the old prophecies that foretold the Messiah's
advent, and with the manner in which his
kingdom was there spoken of. Obscure and
mysterious as much of what Gabriel said may
have appeared to her, she seems at once to
have apprehended that it was of the birth of
this great son of David that he was speaking.
She does not ask, she seems not to have needed
any information on that point. Nor does she
hesitate to accept as true all that Gabriel had




THE ANNUNCIATION.           9
declared. She puts indeed a question which,
if its meaning had not been interpreted by the
manner in which Gabriel dealt with it, and by
the subsequent conduct of Mary herself, we
might have regarded as akin to that of Zacharias; as indicating that she too had given way
to incredulity. But hers was a question of
curiosity, not of unbelief; a question akin, not
to the one which Zacharias put about the birth
of John, but to that of Abraham about the
birth of Isaac, when he said to the angel,
Whereby shall I know this? a question implying no failure of faith, for we know that Abraham staggered not at the promise through unbelief, but expressive simply of a desire for
further information, for some sign in confirmation of his faith. He got such a sign and rejoiced. And so with Mary: her question, like
the patriarch's, springing not from the spirit
of a hesitating unbelief, but from natural curiosity, and the wish to have the faith she felt
confirmed. hIer desire was granted. She was
told that the Holy Ghost should come upon
her, that the power of the Highest should overshadow her, that the child afterwards to be
born was now miraculously to be conceived.
And as a sign, this piece of information, new




10           TEE ANNUNCIATION.
to her we may believe, was given, that her
relative, the aged Elizabeth, was also to have a
son. Her question having been answered, and
the manner of the great event so far revealed
as to throw her back simply on the promise
and power of God, Mary says: "Behold the
handmaid of the Lord; be it unto me according to thy word." What a contrast here between Zacharias and Mary! The aged man
had been taught from childhood in one of the
schools of the prophets, and must have been
familiar with all those narratives and prophecies
which might have prepared him to believe, and
he had besides the experience of years to give
power to his trust in God. Mary was of humbler parentage; her opportunities of instruction but meagre compared with his; hers too
was the season of inexperienced youth; her
faith was as yet unfortified by trial. What he
was asked to believe was unlikely indeed, and
altogether unlooked for, yet not beyond the
powers of nature. What she is asked to believe
is a direct miraculous forthputting of the great
power of God. Yet the old priest staggers,
while the young maiden instantly confides.
In Mary's immediate and entire belief of the
angel's word, a far greater confidence in God




TxE  ANNNCImATON.         11
was shown than could have been shown by
Zacharias, even had he received Gabriel's message as she did, without a suspicion or a doubt.
She who, being betrothed, proved unfaithful,
was, by the law of Moses, sentenced to be stoned
to death, and though that law had now fallen
into disuse, or was but seldom literally executed,
yet she who was deemed guilty of such a crime
stood exposed to the loss of character, and became the marked object of public opprobrium.
Mary could not fail at once to perceive, and to
be sensitive to the misconceptions and the perils
which she would certainly incur. She might,
in self-vindication, relate what Gabriel had told
her, but how many would believe her word?
What voucher could she give that it was actually a heavenly messenger she had seen, and
that what he had said was true? Many a distressing fear as to the future, —as to the treatment she might receive from Joseph, the calumnies,.the shame, the scorn to which from
other quarters she might be exposed,-might
have arisen, if not to check her faith, yet to
hold her own acquiescence in the will of God
in timid and trembling suspense; but strong
in the simplicity and fulness of her trust; she
puts all fears away, and committing herself




12          THE ANNUNCIATION.
into the hands of him whose Angel she believes
Gabriel to be, she says, "Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it unto me according to
thy word."
Let us notice one other element in Mary's
faith: its humility, its complete freedom from
that undue thought of self which so often taints
the faith of the most believing. Wonderful as
the announcement is, that a child born of her
should, by such miraculous conception as Gabriel had spoken of, be the Son of the Highest,
should be a King sitting on the throne of David
— his kingdom one that should outrival David's,
of which there never should be an end,-Mary
harbors no doubt, raises no question, thinks
not, speaks not of her own unworthiness to
have such honor conferred on her, or of her
unfitness to be the mother of such a child. As
if one' so unworthy of the least of God's mercies
had no right or title to question his doings,
however great a gift it pleased him to confer,
she sinks all thought of self in thought of him,
and says, " Behold the handmaid of the Lord;
be it unto me according to thy word." A finer
instance of simple, humble, childlike, unbroken
trust, we shall scarcely find in any record, human or divine. " Blessed," let us say with her




THE ANNUNCIATION.        13
cousin Elizabeth, "is she that believed: for
there shall be a performance of those things
which were told her from the Lord. Thou
hast found favor," said Gabriel to her, "with
God."  It is possible to interpret that saying
without any reference to Mary's character; to
rest in the explanation, which is no doubt so
far true, that it was God's good pleasure to select out of all the maidens of Israel this Mary
of Nazareth, to be the most honored of the
daughters of Eve. But if it be true, as we are
elsewhere taught, that to him that hath it is
given; that it is done unto every one according
to his faith; that to him that believeth, all
things are possible; if all the recorded experience of God's people confirms these general
sayings of the Divine word,-are we wrong in
considering the high honor conferred by God
on Mary as a striking exemplification of the
principle of adapting the gift to the character
and capacity of the receiver?
His errand accomplished, Gabriel withdrew;
and after the brief and exciting interview, Mary
was left in solitude to her own thoughts. The
words she had so lately heard kept ringing in
her ears. She tried to enter more and more
into their meaning. As she did so, into what




14          THE ANNUNCIATION.
a tumult of wonder, and awe, and hope, must
she have been thrown! She longs for some
one with whom she can converse, to whom she
may unburden her full mind and heart. There
is no one near to whom she can or dare lay
open all her secret thoughts; but she remembers now what Gabriel had told her about her
kinswoman Elizabeth, who may well be intrusted
with the secret, for she too has been placed in
something like the same condition. Eager for
sympathy, thirsting for companionship and full
communion of the heart, she arises in haste,
and departs for the distant residence of her
cousin, who lives amid the far-off hills of Judah.
It is a long-for one so young and so unprotected, it might be, a perilous journey; nearly
the whole length of the land-at least a hundred miles to traverse. But what is distance,
what are dangers to one so lifted up with the
exalted hopes to which she has been begotten!
The hundred miles are quickly trodden; joy
and hope make the long distance short. She
reaches at last the house in which Elizabeth
resides, and, with all due respect-such as is
due from the inferior in station, the junior in
years-she salutes the wife of the venerable
priest. How filled with wonder must she have




THE ANNUNCIATION.        15
been, when instead of the ordinary return to
her salutation, Elizabeth breaks forth at once
with the exclamation, " Blessed art thou among
women; " the very words which the angel had
so lately spoken in her astonished ear; " and
blessed is the fruit of thy womb." She need
not tell her secret; it is already known. What
a fresh warrant this for the truth of all that Gabriel had said! It comes to confirm a faith
already strong, but which might, perhaps, otherwise have begun to falter. It did not waver
in the angel's presence; but had month after
month gone by, with no one near to share her
thoughts, or build her up in her first trust,
might not that trust have yielded to human
weakness, and shown some symptom of decay?
Well-timed, then, the kindly aid which the
strange greeting of her cousin brought with it,
supplying a new evidence that there should
indeed be a performance of all those things
which were told of the Lord.
"And whence is this to me, that the mother
of my Lord should come to me?" If in Mary
we have one of the rarest exhibitions of humility towards God, of entire acquiescence in his
will; in Elizabeth we have as rare and beautiful an instance of humility towards others, the




16           THE ANNUNCIATION.
entire absence of all selfish, proud, and envious
feelings. Elizabeth leaves out of sight all the
outer distinctions between herself and her humbler relative, forgets the difference of age and
rank, recognizes at once, and.ungrudgingly,
the far higher distinction which had been conferred by God upon Mary, and wonders even
at the fact that to such a home as hers the
honored mother of her Lord should come. But
now the same spirit which had enlightened her
eyes, and filled her heart, and opened her lips
to give such greeting to her cousin, comes in
still fuller measure upon Mary, and to the wonderful salutation she gives a still more wonderful response in that strain of rapt and rhythmical praise which the Holy Catholic Church
has ever treasured as the first and fullest of
our Christian hymns.
It divides itself into two parts. Rising at
once to God as the source of all her blessings,
her soul and all that was within her being
stirred up to bless him, she celebrates, in lofty
strains of praise, the Lord's goodness to herself individually. " My soul doth magnify the
Lord." The Lord had magnified her, by his
goodness had made her great, and she will
magnify the Lord. The larger his gift to her,




THE ANUNCInON.            17
the larger the glory she will render to his great
name. "My spirit hath rejoiced in God my
Saviour. She hails the coming Saviour, as
one needed by her as by all sinners, and embraces him, though her own son according to
the flesh, as her God and Saviour; glorying
more in the connexion that she has with him
in common with the entire multitude of the
redeemed, than in that special maternal relationship in which she has the privilege to stand to
him. Royal though her lineage, hers had been
a low estate; her family poor in Judah; she
among the least in her father's house; but in
his great grace and infinite condescension the
Lord had stooped to raise her from the dust,
to set her upon a pinnacle of honor, and gratefully and gladly will she acknowledge the hand
that did it. "For he hath regarded the low
estate of his handmaiden." And how high had
he exalted her! The angel had called her
blessed at Nazareth. Elizabeth, in the city of
Judah, had repeated his saying; but Mary herself rises to the full conception and full acknowledgment of the honor the Lord had put
upon her: "For behold," she says, "from
henceforth, all generations shall call me
blessed." But it fills her with no pride, it




18           THEm ANUNCIATION.
prompts to no undue familiarity with God, or
with his great name. She knows to whom to
attribute this and every other gift and grace,
and in the fullness of a devout and grateful
reverence, she adds: " He that is mighty hath
done to me great things; and holy is his name."
So much about herself and all that the Lord
had done for her; but now she widens the embrace of her thanksgiving and praise, and losing all sense of her individuality, her virgin lips
are touched with fire, and as poetess and
prophetess of the infant church she pours forth
the first triumphal song which portrays the
general character of the gospel kingdom then
to be ushered in.
In these strains there breathed the spirit at
once of the Baptist and of Christ; of the two
children of the two mothers who stood now
face to face saluting one another. It is the
voice of him who cried in the wilderness, "Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make straight in
the desert a highway for our God: every valley shall be exalted, and every hill shall be
made low; and the crooked shall be made
straight, and the rough places plain; and the
glory of the Lord shall be revealed." It is the
voice of him who opened his mouth on the




THE ANNUNCIATION.          19
mountain side of Galilee, and said, "Blessed
are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are the meek: for
they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are they
which do hunger and thirst after righteousness:
for they shall be filled." Do we not recognize
the very spirit of the ministries both of John
and of Jesus in the words: " He hath showed
strength with his arm; he hath scattered the
proud in the imagination of their hearts. He
hath put down the mighty from their seats and
exalted them of low degree. He hath filled the
hungry with good things; and the rich he hath
sent empty away. He hath holpen his servant
Israel, in remembrance of his mercy; as he
spake to our fathers, to Abraham, and to his
seed for ever."




IL
THE NATIVITY.*
IT is difficult, perhaps impossible, to decide
whether it was before or after her visit to
Elizabeth, that Joseph was made acquainted
with the condition of his betrothed. It must have
thrown him into painful perplexity. He was
not prepared at first to put implicit faith in her
narrative, but neither was he prepared utterly
to discredit it. To put her publicly away by
a bill of divorce would have openly stamped
her character with shame, and branded her
child with infamy. He was unwilling that
either of these injuries should be inflicted. To
put her away privily would at least so far cover
her reputation that the child might still be regarded as his; and this he had generously resolved to do, when the angel of the Lord ap* Luke ii. 1-20.




THE NATIVIT.           21
peared to him  in a dream, removed all his
doubts, and led him to take Mary as his wife.
This difficulty overcome, Mary, was quietly
awaiting at Nazareth the expected birth. But
it was not at Nazareth that the Messiah was to
be born. An ancient prophecy had already
designated another village, not in Galilee, but
in Judea, as the destined birthplace. "But
thou, Bethlehem Ephratah "-so had the prophet
Micah spoken 700 years before-" though thou
be little among the thousands of Judah, yet
out of thee shall he come forth unto me that is
to be ruler in Israel; whose goings forth have
been from of old, from everlasting." To this
village of Bethlehem Mary was to be guided
at such a time as should secure the fulfilment
of the prophecy.
A singular instrumentality was employed to
gain this end. The Roman Empire had now
stretched its dominion to its widest limits, its
power extending from the Euphrates to the
British Islands-from the Northern Ocean to
the borders of Ethiopia. Amid the prevalence
of universal peace, the Emperor, judging it a
fit opportunity to ascertain by accurate statistics the population and resources of the different provinces of his dominions, issued an edict




22             THE NATrIm.
that a general census of the empire should be
taken. It gratified his pride; it would be
useful afterwards for many purposes of government, such as determining the taxes that
might be imposed, or the levies that might be
drawn from the different provinces. This edict
of Augustus came to be executed in Judea.
That country was not yet, in the outward form
of its government, reduced to the condition of
a Roman province; but Herod, while nominally an independent king, was virtually a
Roman subject, and had to obey this as well
as the other edicts of the Emperor. In doing
so, however, Herod followed the Jewish usage,
and issued his instructions that every family
should repair forthwith to the seat of its tribe,
where its genealogical records were kept. The
distinction of inheritance among the Jews had
long been lost, but the distinction of families
and tribes was still preserved, and Herod
grounded upon that distinction the prescribed
mode of registration or enrollment. Joseph
and Mary, being both of the house and lineage
of David, were obliged to repair to Bethlehem.
The manner in which the power of the Roman Empire was thus employed to determine
the birthplace of our Lord, naturally invites us




THE NATrVITY.            23
to reflect upon the singular conjunction of outward circumstances, the strange timing of events
that then took place. Embracing the whole
sphere of reflection which thus opens to our
view, let us, before fixing our attention upon
the incidents of the particular narrative now
before us, dweli for a little on the Divine wisdom that was displayed in fixing upon that
particular epoch in the world's history as the
one in which Jesus was born, and lived, and
died.  "When," says the  inspired  apostle,
"the fullness of the time was come, God sent
forth his Son, made of a woman, made under
the law." The expression used here, "the
fullness of the time," evidently implies not only
that there was a set time appointed beforehand
of the Father, but that a series of preparatory
steps were pre-arranged, the accomplishment
of which had, as it were, to be waited for, ere
the season best suited for the earthly advent
of our Lord arrived. Some peculiar fitness
must then have marked the time of Christ's
appearance in this world. We are inclined to
wonder that his appearance should have been
so long delayed. Looking at all the mighty
issues that hung suspended on his advent, we
are apt at times to be surprised that so many




24            TEE NATIVITY.
thousand years should have been suffered to
elapse ere the Son of God came down to save
us; and yet, could the whole plan and counsels of the Deity be laid open to our eye, we
cannot but believe that as there were the best
and weightiest reasons why his coming should
be deferred so long, there were also the best
and weightiest reasons why it should be deferred
no longer. To attempt on either side the
statement of these reasons would be to attempt
to penetrate within the veil that hides from us
the secret things of God. Taking up, however,
the history of the world as it is actually before
us, it can neither be unsafe nor presumptuous
to consider the actual and obvious benefits
which have attended the coming of the Saviour
at that particular period when it happened.
In the first place, we can readily enough perceive that it has served greatly to enhance the
number and the force of the evidences in favor
of the Divine origin and authority of his mission.
Two of the chief outer pillars upon which the
fabric of Christianity as a revelation from
Heaven rests, are Prophecy and Miracles.
But if Christ had come in the earliest ages;
had the Incarnation followed quickly upon. the
Fall so far as that coming was concerned, there




TmE NATIVrTY.          25
had been no room or scope for prophecy-one
great branch of the Christian evidences had
been cut off. As it now is, when we take up
that long line of predictions, extending over
more than three thousand years, from the first
dim intimation that the Seed of the woman
should bruise the head of the serpent, down to
to the last prophecy of Malachi, that the Lord,
whom the Jews sought, should come suddenly
to his temple as the Messenger of the Covenant, whom they delighted in; when we mark
the growing brightness and fullness that characterizes each succeeding prediction, as feature
after feature in the life and character of the
great Messiah is added to the picture; when
we compare actual events with the passages in
those ancient writings, in which they were repeatedly foretold, what a strong confirmation
is given thereby to our faith, that He, of whom
all those things had been spoken so long beforehand, was indeed the Christ, the Son of the
living God. How much, then, in regard to
prophecy, should we have lost, had the interval
between the Fall and the Incarnation not been
long enough for that wonderful series of prophecies to be interposed.
Even as to the miracles we should have been




26             THIE NATIVITY.
put to great and serious disadvantage. OuI
faith in the reality of these miracles rests upon
human testimony. That testimony is embodied in the writings of the apostles and their
contemporaries. Those writings were issued
at an advanced stage in the history of the
world. They have come down to us through
the same channel-they come accompanied
with the same vouchers for their authenticity-with a vast mass of other ancient writings
whose genuineness and credibility no one has
ever denied. Our belief in the miracles of
Jesus is thus bound up with our belief in a
large portion of ancient history, for our knowledge of which we are indebted to writings of
equal and greater antiquity than those of the
New Testament. If we renounce the one, we
must, in all fairness, renounce the other also.
We must blot out all that is alleged to have
happened in the world from this date upwards.
It has been of the greatest possible service in
the defence of Christianity against the attack
of scholarly men, that the life of Jesus Christ,
recorded in the four Gospels, forms part and
parcel of so large a portion of the preserved
literature of antiquity-written, as it were, with
the same ink, published at the same time, pre



TiE NATuvry.            27
served in the same manner, so that together
they must stand or together fall. How should
it have stood, if, instead of being as it is,
those miracles of Christ had been wrought far
back in the world's history; the record of
them written at some period preceding that
from which any other authentic narrative had
come down to us, some centuries before the
date of the first acknowledged book of common history? Who does not perceive to what
exceptions, just or unjust, they would, in consequence, have been exposed? Who does not
perceive that, fixing his eye upon the barbarous
and fabulous age in which the record originated, and upon the longer and more perilous
passage that it had made, with some show at
least of reason, with some apparent ground for
the distinction, other ancient histories might
have been received, and yet this one rejected?
We have to thank God then for the wisdom
of that order of things whereby, in consequence of the particular time at which Christ
appeared, our faith in him as the heaven-sent
Saviour rests upon the same solid basis with
our faith in the best accredited facts of common history.
We can discern another great and beneficial




28             THE NATIIn.
purpose that was served by the appearance of
Christ at so late a period. The world was left
for a long while to itself, to make full proof of
its capabilities and dispositions. Many great
results it realized. There were countries unvisited by any light from heaven, upon which
the sun of civilization rose and shone with no
mean lustre; where the intellect of man acted
as vigorously as it has ever done on earth;
where all the arts and refinements of life were
brought to the highest state of culture; where
taste and imagination revelled amid the choicest
objects of gratification; where, in poetry and
in painting, and in sculpture and in architecture, specimens of excellence were furnished
which remain to this day the models that we
strive to imitate. Was nothing gained by allowing Egypt, Greece, and Rome to run out
their full career of civilization, while the light
from  heaven was confined meanwhile to the
narrow limits of Judea? Was nothing gained
by its being made no longer a matter of speculation but a matter of fact, that man may rise
in other departments, but in religion will not,
left unaided, rise to God; that he may make
great progress in other kinds of knowledge, but
make no progress in the knowledge of his




THE NATIVITY.            29
Maker; that he may exercise his intellect, regale his fancy, refine his taste, correct his manners, but will not, cannot purify his heart?
For what was the actual state of matters in
those countries unblest by revelation? We
have the description drawn by an unerring
hand: "They became vain in their imaginations, and their foolish heart was darkened.
Professing themselves to be wise, they became
fools, and changed the glory of the uncorruptible God into an image made like to corruptible man, and to birds, and four-footed beasts,
and creeping things; who changed the truth of
God into a lie, and worshipped and served the
creature more than the Creator, who is blessed
for ever." We should have lost that exhibition
of the greatest refinement coupled with the
grossest idolatry, had the light of Revelation
mingled universallyfrom the first with the light
of ordinary civilization.
Let us look a little more closely at the condition of Judea relatively to the Roman Empire
at the time of our Lord's birth and death. It
was owing, as we have already mentioned, to
Herod's being nominally a sovereign but virtually a subject, that the order for registration
came to be executed in Palestine which forced




30            TiHE  NATlV'r.
Mary from Nazareth to Bethlehem. Is there
nothing impressive in seeing the power of Rome
thus interposed to determine the Redeemer's
birthplace; the pride and policy of the world's
great monarchy employed as an instrument for
doing what the hand and counsel of the Lord
had determined beforehand to be done? But
even that nominal kingdom which Herod enjoyed soon passed from his family. A few
years after the birth of Christ, Archelaus, who
reigned in Judea in the room of his father
Herod, was deposed and banished. Judea had
then a Roman governor placed over it. Still,
however, whether through respect to its banished princes, or some latent reverence for its
Temple and ancient laws, the old national and
priestly authorities were suffered to continue
and enjoy some part of their old power and
privileges. It was an anomalous and shortlived state of things; a Jewish law and Jewish
officers, under a Roman law and Roman officers: the two fitted into each other by certain
limits being assigned to the inferior or Jewish
judicatories which they were not permitted to
overpass. To no Jewish court, not even to the
highest, the Sanhedrim, was the power of inflicting capital punishment intrusted; and it




THE NATIVITY.           31
was wholly owing to that peculiar and temporary adjustment, that all the formality of an
orderly trial, and all the publicity of a legal
execution was stamped upon the closing scenes
of the Saviour's life. Had Jesus Christ appeared one half-century earlier, or one halfcentury later than he did; had he appeared
when the Jewish authorities had unchecked
power, how quickly, how secretly had their
deadly malice discharged itself upon his head?
No cross had been raised on Calvary. Had he
come a few years later, when the Jews were
stripped even of that measure of power they
for a short season enjoyed, would the Roman
authorities, then the only ones in the land, of
their own motion have condemned and crucified
him? Even as it was, it was impossible to
persuade Pilate that Jesus was either a rival
whom Caesar had any reason to fear, or a rebel
whom it became him to punish. Why then
was the rule over Judea at this time in the
hands of Rome? and why was that power induced to treat Judea for a time so differently
from her other subject provinces? Why, but
that she might be standing there ready, when
Christ fell into the hands of his exasperated
countrymen, to extricate him from that grasp




32                 THE NATIVITr.
under which in darkness he might have perished; and, though she too denied him justice,
yet by her weak and vacillating governor, that
hers might be the voice proclaiming aloud his
innocence; hers the hand to erect the cross,
and lift it up so high that the eyes of all the nations and all the ages might behold it.
But let us now turn to the narrative of our
Redeemer's birth. When Mary was at first informed that Joseph and she must go to Bethlehem, perhaps she shrunk from so long a
journey, lingered to the last ere she entered on
it, and took it slowly. She was late at least in
her arrival at the village. The inn, we may
well suppose the single one that so small a place
afforded for the entertainment of strangers,*
was crowded. She had to take the only accommodation that the place afforded. Adopting here the early tradition of the Church, as
reported  by  Justin  Martyr, who  was born
about a century afterwards, and within fifty
* The inn or khan was frequently in the earliest times the house
of the sheik or chief man of the place. A-very interesting risum6
of all the historical notices of the inn or khan of Bethlehem is
given in theAthencuum for December 26, 1863, which makes it more
than probable that the place of Christ's birth was close to, if not
within, the very house to which Boaz conducted Ruth, and in
which Samuel anointed David king.




TiE  NATIVTY.           33
miles from Bethlehem, let us say, she had to
go into one of the caves or grottos in the rock
common in the neighborhood, connected with
the inn. There, where the camels and the
asses had their -stalls; there, far away from
home and friends, among strangers all too busy
to care for her; amid all the rude exposures
and confusion of the place, Mary brought forth
her first-born son, and when her hour was over,
having swathed him with her own weak hands,
laid him in a manger.
A very lowly mode of entering upon human
life; nothing whatever to dignify, everything
to degrade. Yet the night of that wonderful
birth was not to pass by without bearing upon
its bosom a bright and signal witness of the
greatness of the event. Sloping down from
the rocky ridge on which Bethlehem stood,
there lay some grassy fields, where all that
night long some shepherds watched their flocks;
humble, faithful, industrious men; men, too,
of whom we are persuaded that, Simeon-like,
they were waiting for the Consolation of Israel;
who had simpler and more spiritual notions of
their Messiah than most of the well-taught
scribes of the metropolis. They would not
have understood the angel's message so well;




34            TiH NATIVITY.
they would not have believed it so readily;
they would not have hastened so quickly to
Bethlehem; they would not have bent with
such reverence over so humble a cradle; they
would not have made known'abroad what had
been told them concerning this child —made it
known as a thing in which they themselves
most heartily believed-had they not been
devout, believing men. Under the starry heavens, along the lonely hillsides, these shepherds
are keeping their watch, thinking perhaps of
the time when these very sheepwalks were
trodden by the young son of Jesse, or remembering some ancient prophecy that told of the
coming of one who was to be David's son and
David's Lord. Suddenly the angel of the Lord
comes upon them, the glory of the Lord encompasses them with a girdle of light brighter than
the mid-day sun could have thrown around
them. They fear as they see that form, and as
they are encircled by that glory, but their alarm
is instantly dispelled. "Fear not," says the
angel, "for behold I bring you good tidings
of great joy, which shall be to all people.
For unto you is born this day, in the city
of David, a Saviour which is Christ the
Lord." Mary had been told that her child




TiE  NAIVrY.            35
was to be called Jesus, that he was to be great,
to be son of the Highest, the heir to his father
David's throne, the head of an everlasting monarchy. Joseph had been told that he was to
call the child born of Mary, Jesus, for he was
to save his people from their sins-a simpler
and less Jewish description of his office. The
angel speaks of him to these shepherds in still
broader and sublime terms. Unto them and
unto all people this child was to be born, and
unto them and unto all he was to be a Saviour,
Christ the Lord, the only instance in which the
double epithet, Christ the Lord, is given in this
form to him. A universal, a divine Messiahship was to be his.
The shepherds ask no sign as Zacharias and
Mary had done; yet they got one: "And
this," said the angel, " shall be a sign unto
you: Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger." But one
such child, born that night, wrapped up in such
a way, lying in such a place, could so small a
village as Bethlehem supply. That village lay
but a mile or so from the spot they stood on;
the sign could speedily be verified. But they
have something more to see and hear ere their
visit to the village is paid. The voice of that




36             TiHE NATIVITY.
single angel has scarce died away in the silence
of the night-lost in wonder they are still gazing on his radiant form-when suddenly a
whole multitude of the heavenly host bursts
upon their astonished vision, lining the illuminated heavens. Human eyes never saw before
or since so large a company of the celestial inhabitants hovering in our earthly skies;
and human ears never heard before or since
such a glorious burst of heavenly praise as
those angels then poured forth-couching it in
Hebrew speech, their native tongue for the
time foregone, that these listening shepherds
may catch up at once the cradle-hymn that
heaven now chants over the new-born Saviour;
that these shepherds may repeat it to the men
of their own generation; that from age to age
it may be handed down, and age after age may
take it up as supplying the fittest terms in
which to celebrate the Redeemer's birth" Glory to God in the highest, on earth peace,
goodwill towards men."
At the moment when these words first saluted human ears, what a contrast did they
open up between earth and heaven! As that
babe was born in Bethlehem, this world lay
around him in silence, in darkness, in ignorant




THE NATIVITY.           37
unconcern. But all heaven was moved; for,
large as that company of angels was which the
shepherds saw, what were they to the thousands
that encircle the throne of the Eternal! And
the song of praise the shepherds heard, what
was it to the voice, as of many waters, which
rose triumphant around that throne! That
little dropping of its praise committed for huiman, use to human keeping, Heaven hastily
veiled itself again from human vision. The
whole angelic manifestation  passed rapidly
away. The shepherds are startled in their
midniglht rounds; a flood of glory pours upon
them; their eyes are dazzled with those forms
of light; their ears are full of that thrilling song
of praise: suddenly the glory is gone; the
shining forms have vanished; the stars look
dovwn as before through the darkness; they
are left to a silent, unspeakable wonder and
awe.  They soon, however, collect their
thoughts, and promptly resolve to go at once
into the village. They go in haste; the sign is
verified; they find Mary and Joseph, and the
babe lying in the manger. They justify their
intrusion by telling all that they had just seen
and heard; and amid the sorrows and humiliations of that night, how cheering to Mary the




38             THE NATIVIrrY.
strange tidings that they bring! Having told
these, they bend with rude yet holy reverence
over the place where the infant Saviour lies,
and go their way to finish their night-watch
among the hills, and then for all their life long
afterwards to repeat to wondering listeners the
story of that birth. With those shepherds let
us bend for a moment or two over the place
where the infant Redeemer lay, to meditate on
one or two of the lessons which it is fitted to
suggest.
By the manner of his entrance into this
world, Christ hath dignified the estate of infancy,
has hallowed the bond which binds the mother
to her new-born child. He, the great Son of
God, stooped to assume our humanity. He
might have done so at once; taken it on him
in its manhood form. The second Adam might
have stood forth like the first, no childhood
passed through. Why did he become an infant
before he was a man? Was it not, among
other reasons which may suggest themselves,
that he might consecrate that first of human
ties, that earliest estate of human life? The
grave, we say, has been hallowed,-has not the
cradle also,-by Christ's having lain in it?
By the humiliation of his birth, he stripped




TEi  NATIVITY.           39
the estate of poverty of all reproach. Of all
who have ever been born into this world, he
was the only one with whom it was a matter
of choice in what condition he should appear.
The difference, indeed, between our highest
and our lowest, —between a chamber in a
palace, and a manger in a stable,-could have
been but slight to him; yet he chose to be
born in the stable, and to be laid in the manger. And that first stage of his earthly life
was in keeping with all that followed. For
thirty years he depended on his own or others'
labor for his daily bread: for three years more,
he was a houseless, homeless man, with no provision but that which the generosity of others
supplied: "The foxes had holes, and the birds
of the air had nests; but he had not where to
lay his head." And has not that life of his redeemed poverty from all disgrace; has it not
lifted it to honor?
As we bend in wonder over the infant Saviour, we learn the difference between the inferior and higher forms of an earthly greatness.
On that night when Christ was born, what a
difference was there in all outward marks of
distinction, between that child of the Hebrew
mother as he lay in his lowly cradle, and the




40            TiE  NATIVITY.
Augustus Caesar whose edict brought Mary to
Bethlehem, as he reposed in his imperial
palace! And throughout the lifetimes of the
two there was but little to lessen that distinction. The name of the one was known and
honored over the whole civilized globe: the
name of the other scarce heard of beyond the
narrow bounds of Judea. And when repeated
there, it was too often as a byword and a reproach. How stands it now? The throne of
the Caesars, the throne of mere human authority and power, has perished. That name, at
which nations trembled, carries no power over
the spirits of men. But the empire of Jesus,
the empire of pure, undying, self-sacrificing
love, will never perish; its sway over the conscience and hearts of men, as the world grows
older becomes ever wider and stronger. His
name shall be honored while sun and moon
endure;-men shall be blessed in him; all nations shall call him blessed. This world owes
an infinite debt to him, were it for nothing else
than this, that he has so exalted the spiritual
above the material; the empire of love above
the empire of power.
Again we bend over this infant as he lies in
that manger at Bethlehem, and as we do so,




THE NTIVITYr.           41
strange scenes in his after life rise upon our
memory. Those little, tender feet, unable to
sustain the infant frame, are yet to tread upon
the roughened waters of a stormy lake, as men
tread the solid earth! At the touch of that
little, feeble hand, the blind eye is to open, and
the tied tongue to be unloosed, and diseases of
all kinds are to take wings and flee away!
That soft, weak voice, whose gentle breathings
in his infant slumbers can scarce be heard, is
to speak to the winds and the waves, and they
shall obey it; is to summon the dead from the
sepulchre, and they shall come forth! Who
then, and what was he, whose birth the angels
celebrated in such high strains? None other
than he of whom Isaiah, anticipating the angels,
had declared: " Unto us a child is born, unto
us a son is given; and the government shall be
upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called
Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The
everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace." It
was He, the Word, who was from the beginning
with God, and who was God; who was thus
made flesh, and came to dwell among us.
This is, in truth, the central fact or doctrine of
our religion; the mystery of mysteries; the
one great miracle of divine, everlasting love.




d4             THE NATIVITY.
Admit it, and all the other wonders of the Saviour's life become not only easy of belief,they appear but the natural and suitable incidents of such a history as his. Deny it, and
the whole gospel narrative becomes an inexplicable enigma. The very heart of its meaning taken out of it, you may try to turn it into
a myth or fable if you please; but a credible
story it no longer is. No; not credible even
in that part of it into which nothing of the supernatural enters. Christ was either what he
claimed to be, and what all those miraculous
attestations conspire to establish that he was;
he was either one with the Father, knowing the
Father as the Father knew him, doing whatever the Father did, —so direct and full a revelation of the Father that it could be truly said
that he who had seen him had seen the Father
likewise; —or his character for simplicity and
honesty and truthfulness stands impeached, and
the whole fabric of Christianity is overturned.
Let those angels teach us in what light we
should regard the birth of Christ, the advent
of the Redeemer. They counted it as glad
tidings of great joy that they gave forth when
they announced that birth; they broke forth
together in exulting praises over it, as glorify



THE  NATIVITY.           43
ing to God in the highest, as proclaiming peace
on earth, as indicating good-will toward men.
In that good-will of God to us in Christ let us
heartily believe; into that peace with God
secured to us in Christ let us humbly yet gratefully enter. Those glad tidings of great joy
let us so receive as that they shall make us joyful, that so Christ may be glorified in us on
earth, and we be glorified with him throughout
eternity I




III.
THE PRESENTATION IN THE TEMPLE.*
ON   the eighth day after his birth Christ
was circumcised; the visible token of his
being one of the seed of Abraham according
to the flesh was thus imposed. In his case,
indeed, this rite could not have that typical or
spiritual meaning which in all other cases it
bore. It could point to no spiritual defilement
needing to be removed. But though on that
ground exemption might have been claimed
for him, on other grounds it became him in
this as in other respects to fulfill the requirements of the Jewish law. From the earliest
period, from the first institution of the rite, it
had been the Jewish custom to give its name
to the child on the occasion of its circumcision,
as it is the Christian custom, borrowed from
the Jewish, to give its name to the child on
the occasion of its baptism. The angel indeed,
* Luke ii. 21-28.




THE PRESENTATION IN T  THE TEPLE.   45
who had appeared to Zacharias, and to Mary,
had in each instance announced beforehand
what the names of the two children were to
be. These however were not formally imposed till the day of their circumcision. In
the Baptist's case there was a large assemblage
of relations and friends upon that day; and
springing out of the peculiar condition of the
father, the naming of John was attended with
such striking circumstances, that the fame of
them was noised abroad throughout all the hill
country of Judea. At Bethlehem Joseph and
Mary were too far away from all their kindred
to call any assemblage of them together. In
their humbler position they might not have
done it, even had they been resident at the
time in Nazareth. Quietly, privately, obscurely they circumcised their child and gave to him
the name of Jesus, that name so rich in meaning, so full of promise.
Forty days after the birth of Jesus, Joseph
and Mary carried the infant up to Jerusalem.
There was a double object in this visit. Mary
had to present the offering which the Jewish
law required at the hands of every mother
when the days of her purification were accomplished. This offering, in the case of all whose




46    THE PRESENTATION IN THE TEMPLE.
circumstances enabled them to present it, was
to consist of a lamb of the first year for a
burnt-offering, and a young pigeon or a turtledove for a sin offering. With that consideration for the poor which marks so many of the
Mosaic ordinances, it was provided that if the
mother were not able to furnish a lamb, a pair
of turtle-doves or two young pigeons were to
be accepted, the one for the burnt-offering, and
the other for the sin-offering. That such was
the offering which Joseph and Mary presented
to the priest, carried with it an unmistakable
evidence of the poverty of their estate. Besides
discharging this duty, Mary had at the same
time to dedicate her infant son as being a firstborn child to the Lord, and to pay the small
sum fixed as the price of his redemption.
There were few more common, few less
noticeable sights than the one witnessed that
forenoon within the Temple when Christ's
presentation as a first-born child took place.
It happened every day that mothers brought
their children to be in this way dedicated and
redeemed. It was part of the daily routine
work of the priest-in-waiting to take their payments, to hold up the children before the altar
to enroll their names in the register of the first



THE PRESENTATION IN THE TEMPLE.    47
born, and so to complete the dedication; a
work which from its commonness he went
through without giving much attention either
to parents or to child, unless indeed there was
something special in their rank, or their appearance or their offerings. But here there
was nothing of this kind. A poor man and
woman, in humblest guise, with humblest offerings, present themselves before him. The
woman holds out her first-born babe: he takes,
presents, enrolls, and hands it back to her; all
seems over, and what is there in so common,
plain, and simple an old Jewish custom worthy
of any particular notice? We shall be able to
answer that question better, by considering
for a moment what this rite of the dedication
of the first-born among the Israelites really
meant, especially as applied to this first-born,
to this child Jesus.
When Moses first got his commission from
the Lord in Midian, and was told to go and
work out the great deliverance of his people
from their Egyptian bondage, the last instruction he received was this: "And thou shalt
say unto Pharaoh, Thus saith the Lord, Israel
is my son, even my first-born. And I say unto thee, Let my son go, that he may serve me;




48    THE PRESENTATION IN THE TEMPLE.
and if thou refuse to let him go, behold, I will
slay thy son, even thy first-born" (Exodus iv.
22, 23). As a mother reclaims her infant from
the hands of a cruel nurse, as a father reclaims
his son from the hands of a severe and capricious schoolmaster, so the Lord reclaimed his
son, his first-born Israel, from the hands of
Pharaoh. But the king's haughty answer to
the demand was: "Who is the Lord, that I
should obey his voice to let Israel go?" Sign
after sign was shown, wonder after wonder
wrought, woe after woe inflicted, but the spirit
of the proud king remained unbroken. At
last, all lesser instruments having failed, the
sword was put into the hands of the destroying
angel, and he was sent forth to execute that
foretold doom, which —meant to strike at the
very heart of the entire community of Egyptfell actually only upon the first-born in every
family. The nation was taken as represented
by these its first and best. In their simultaneous death on that terrible night, Egypt throughout all its borders was smitten. But the firstborn of Israel was saved, and through them,
as representatives of the whole body of the
people, all Israel was saved; saved, yet not
without blood, not without the sacrifice of the




THE PRESENTATION IN THE TEMPLE.    49
lamb, for every household had the sprinkling
of its shed blood upon the lintel and door-post.
It was to preserve and perpetuate the memory
of this judgment and this mercy, this smiting
and this shielding, this doom and this deliverance, that the Lord spake unto Moses saying,
"Sanctify unto me all the first-born, both of
man and beast; it is mine: for on the day that
I smote all the first-born in the land of Egypt,
I hallowed unto me all the first-born in Israel;
mine they shall be; I am the Lord. And it
shall be, when thy son asketh thee in time to
come, saying, What is this? that thou shalt say
unto him, By strength of hand the Lord
brought us out from Egypt, from the house of
bondage: and it came to pass when Pharaoh
would hardly let us go, that the Lord slew all
the first-born in the land of Egypt, both the
first-born of man and the first-born of beast,
therefore I sacrifice to the Lord all that openeth the matrix, being males; but all the firstborn of my children I redeem."* During the
earlier and simpler patriarchal economy, the
first-born in every family was also its priest.
Had that rule been followed when the twelve
tribes were organized into the Theocracy, the
* Exod. xiii. 1; Numb. iii. 13; Exod. xihi. 14, 15.




50    TiHE  PRESENTATION IN THE TEMPLE.
first-born invested with a double sacredness as
peculiarly the redeemed of the Lord, would
have been consecrated to the office of the
priesthood. Instead of this, the tribe of Levi
was set apart, that it might supply all the
priests required for the services of the sanctuary; and the first-born for whom they were
thus substituted were redeemed or released
from that service by the payment, each, on the
day of their presentation in the Temple, of a
merely nominal gratuity; by that payment,
the original right and title, as it were, of the
first-born to the office of the priesthood being
still preserved.
This rite, then, of the presentation of the
first-born in the Temple, had a double character and office. It was a standing memorial
or remembrancer of a past fact in the history
of the Jewish people,-the deliverance of their
forefathers from the bondage of Egypt, ana
especially of the shielding of their first-born
from the stroke which fell on all the first-born
of the Egyptians: but the deliverance from
Egyptian bondage was itself a type and prophecy of another higher and wider deliverance,
and especially of the manner in which that deliverance was to be wrought out.




TE PRESENTATION IN THE TEMPLE.    51
In the light of this explanation, let us look
yet once again at our Lord's presentation in
the Temple as a first-born child, and see
whether-as the eye of faith looks through the
oatward actions to that which the actions symbolize, looks through the outward form and
discerns the spiritual significance-the whole
scene does not become, as it were, transfigured
before us. You mount the steps, and come
up into this Temple at Jerusalem. It is neither
a feast-day nor a Sabbath-day, nor is it the
fixed hour for prayer. A few priests, or Levites, or other hangers-on of the Holy Place,
are loitering in the outer courts. A man and
woman in Galilean dress, the woman bearing
an infant in her arms, cross the court and go
forward to where the priest is standing, whose
duty it is to present whatever individual sacrifices or oblations may that day be offered.
They tell the priest their errand, hand to him
or to one of his attendants, the two young
turtle-doves, and the five shekels of the Sanctuary. He, in his turn, goes through with his
part of the prescribed ceremonial, and gives the
child back again to his parents as a first-born
child that had been duly devoted to the Lord,
The father, the mother, the priest, whatever




52    THE PRESENTATION IN THE TFu.mPL
onlookers there are, all imagine, that nothing
more has been done in all this than is so often
done when first-born children are consecrated.
But was it so? Who is this child that lies so
passive on its mother's breast, and, all unconscious of what is being done with him, is handled by the officiating priest? He is, as his
birth had proclaimed him to be, one of the seed
of Abraham, and yet he afterwards said of
himself, " Before Abraham was, I am." He is,
as the angel had proclaimed him to be, David's
son and David's heir; but as he said afterwards
of himself, the root as well as the branch of
David: David's Lord as well as David's son.
He is the first-born of Mary, but he is also the
first-born of every creature, the beginning of
the creation of God. He is the infant of a few
weeks old, but also the Ancient of Days, whose
goings forth were from of old, from everlasting.
Here then at last is the Lord, the Jehovah,
whom so many of the Jews were seeking,
brought suddenly, almost, as one might say,
unconsciously into his own Temple. Here is
the Lamb of God, of old provided, now publicly designated and set apart,-of which the
paschal one, the sight of whose blood warded
off the stroke of the destroying angel, was but




THE PRESENTATION IN THE TEMPLE.    53
the imperfect type. Here is the one and only
true High Priest over the house of God, consecrated to his office, of whose all-prevailing,
everlasting, and unchangeable priesthood, the
Aaronic priesthood, the priesthood of the firstborn, was but the dim shadow. Here is the
Son presented to the Father, within the Holy
Place on earth, as he enters upon that life of
service, suffering, sacrifice, the glorious issue of
which was to be his entering not by the blood
of bulls and goats, but by his own blood, into
that Holy Place not made with hands, having
obtained eternal redemption for us, there for
ever to present himself before the Father, as
the living head of the great community of the
redeemed, the general assembly and church of
the first-born which are written in heaven.
How little did that Jewish priest, who took
the infant Saviour and held him up before the
altar, imagine that a greater than Moses, one
greater than the Temple, was in his arms!
How little did he imagine as he inscribed the
new name of Jesus in the roll of the first-born
of Israel, that he was signing the death-warrant
of the Mosaic economy now waxing old and
ready to vanish away; that he was ushering
in that better, brighter day, when neither of




654    THE PRESENTATION IN THE TEMPLE.
the Temple upon Mount Zion, nor of that upon
Gerizim, it should be said that there only was
the true worship of Jehovah celebrated; but
when, taught by this very Jesus to know God
as Our Father in Heaven, unfettered and redeemed humanity in every land should worship him who is a Spirit in spirit and in truth.
Yet even so it was; Christ's first entrance into
the Temple, his dedication there unto the Lord,
was no such common ceremonial as we might
fancy it to be. Simple in form, there lay in it
a depth and sublimity of meaning. It was
nothing else than the first formal earthly presentation to the Father of the incarnate Son of
God, his first formal earthly dedication to that
great work given him to do. And was it not
meet when the Father and the Son were
brought visibly together in this relationship,
that the presence of the Holy Spirit should be
manifested; that by that Spirit Simeon and
Anna should be called in, and by that Spirit
their lips should be made to speak the infant
Saviour's praise; that so within the Temple,
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit might all appear,
dignifying with their presence our Lord's first
entrance into the Holy Place; his consecration
to his earthly mediatorial work?




THE PRESENTATION IN THE TEMPIE.   55
Two fitter channels through which the Spirit's testimony might thus be given could
scarcely have been chosen. Simeon and Anna
both belonged to that limited number, who in
the midst of all the crude and carnal conceptions of the Messiah prevalent among their
countrymen, were waiting for Christ and longing for his coming, not so much for the temporal as for the spiritual benefits which his coming
and kingdom were to convey. Both were well
stricken in years, fit representatives of the closing age of Judaism; both were full of faith
and hope, fit representatives of that new age
whose earliest dawn they were among the first
to notice and to welcome.
So ardent as his years ran on had Simeon's
faith and hope become, that this one thing had
he desired of the Lord, that before his eyes
closed in death they might rest upon his Saviour. And he was heard as to that for which
he had so longed. It was revealed to him
that the desire of his heart should be granted,
but how and when he knew not. That forenoon, however, a strong desire to go up into
the Temple seizes him. He was not accustomed to go there at that hour, but he obeys
that inward impulse, which perhaps he recog



56    TmHE PRESENTATION IN THE TFiMPea.
nized as the work of the Divine Spirit, by
whom the gracious revelation had been made
to him. He enters the Temple courts; he notices a little family group approach; he sees an
infant dedicated to the Lord. That infant, an
inward voice proclaims to him is the Messiah
he had been waiting for, the Consolation of
Israel come at last in the flesh. Then comes
into his heart a joy beyond all bounds. It
kindles in his radiant looks; it beats in his
swelling veins; the strength of youth is back
again into his feeble limbs. He hastens up to
Mary, takes from the wondering yet consenting
mother's hands the consecrated babe, and
clasping it to his beating bosom, with eyes uplifted to heaven, he says, " Lord, now lettest
thou thy servant depart in peace, according to
thy word; for mine eyes have seen thy salvation, which thou hast prepared before the face
of all people; a light to lighten the Gentiles,
and the glory of thy people Israel." Joseph
and Mary stand lost in wonder. How has this
stranger come to see aught uncommon in this
child; how come to see in him the salvation of
Israel? Have some stray tidings of his birth
come into the holy city from the hill country
of Judea, or has the wondrous tale the shep



THE PRESENTATION IN THE TEMPLE.   57
herds of Bethlehem "made known abroad,'
been repeated in this old man's hearing?
What he says is in curious harmony with all
the angel had announced to Mary and to the
shepherds about the child, and yet there is a
difference; for now, for the first time, is it distinctly declared that this child shall be a light
to lighten the Gentiles; nay, his being such a
light is placed even before his being the glory
of Israel. IHas Simeon had a separate revelation made to him from heaven, and is this an
independent and fuller testimony borne to the
Messiahship of Jesus?
Simeon sees the wonder that shines out in
their astonished looks; and, the spirit of prophecy imparted-that spirit which had been
mute in Israel since the days of Malachi, but
which now, once more, lifts up its voice within
the Temple-he goes on, after a gentle blessing
bestowed upon both parents, to address himself particularly to Mary, furnishing in his
words to her fresh material for wonder, while
opening a new future to her eye.  "Behold,"
he said to her, "this child of thine is set for
the fall and rising again of many in Israel."
He may have meant, in saying so, that the
purpose and effect of the Lord's showing unto




58    THE PRESENTATION IN THE TEMPLE.
Israel would be the casting down of many in
order to the raising of them up again; the
casting of them  down from  their earlier,
worldlier thoughts and expectations, in order
to the lifting them to higher, worthier, more
spiritual conceptions of his character and office.
Or, perhaps it was to different and not to the
same persons that he referred, the truth revealed being this: that while some were to
rise, others were to fall; that the stone which
to some was to be a foundation-stone elect and
precious, was to others to be a stone of stumbling and rock of offence; that Jesus was to
come for judgment into the world, that those
who saw not might see, that those who saw
might be made blind; his name to be the savour of life unto life to the one, the savour of
death unto death to the other.
From all Mary had yet heard she might have
imagined that her child would be welcomed by
all Israel (so soon as the day for his revelation
came) as its long-looked for deliverer; and that
a career of unsuffering triumph would lie before
hin, —a career in whose honors and bliss she
could scarcely help at times imagining that she
should have a share. But now, for the first
time, the indication is clearly given that all Is



THE PRESENTATION IN THE TEMPLE.   59
rael was not to hail her child, and welcome
him as its Messiah; that hostility was to spring
up even within the ranks of the chosen people;
that tie was to be a "sign which should be
spoken against," or rather, for such is the more
literal rendering of the words, a butt or mark
at which many shafts or javelins should be
launched. Nor was Mary herself to escape.
Among the many swords or darts levelled at
his breast, one was to reach hers: "Yea, a
sword shall pierce through thine own soul also."
Strange that in the very centre of so broad and
comprehensive a prophecy concerning Christ,
such a minute and personal allusion to Mary
should come in; a high honor put upon the
mother of our Lord that her individual sorrows
should be foretold in this way in connexion
with the deeper sorrows of her Son; and a
singular token of the tender sympathy of Him
by whom it was prompted, that now when her
heart was filling with strange, bright hopes;
now, while her child was yet an infant; now,
ere the evil days drew on, when she should
have to see him become the object of reproach
and persecution, and stand herself to look at
him upon that cross of shame and agony on
which they hung him up to die, —that now to




60    THE PRESENTATION IN THE TmrPLE.
temper her first-born joy, to prepare and fortify
her for the bitter trials in store for her, this
prophecy should have been thus early spoken.
"That the thoughts of many hearts may be
revealed." No such revealer of the ~thoughts
of men's hearts has the world ever seen as Jesus Christ. His presence, his character, his
ministry, brought out to light the hidden things
of many a human spirit. He walked abroad
applying upon all sides the infallible test which
tried the temper of the soul: "If I had not
come," he said, " they had not had sin, but now
they have no cloak for their sin." In its uncloaked nakedness he made the sin be seen.
"I know you," said he to the Jews, " that ye
have not the love of God in you," and the
reason that he gave for this was, that they had
rejected him. Coming into contact with them
all in turn, he revealed the hypocrisy of the
Pharisees, the worldliness of the young ruler,
the faith of the Syro-Phenician woman, the
malice of the Sanhedrim, the weaknesses of Pilate, the treachery of Judas, the rashness of
Peter, the tender care and sympathy of Mary.
Throughout the whole of his earthly life the
description given here by Simeon was continually being verified. That description itself




Tn P UESNTATION IN T  TE TLP.    61
throughout reveals its divine origin and char
acter. It proves itself to have been no bold
conjecture of human wisdom, but a revelation
of the future made by God.
Simeon's prophetic portraiture of the intention and effect of the advent of the Redeemer
had been scarcely completed when another testimony was added; that of the aged Anna, the
daughter of Phanuel, who like her venerable
compeer appears but this once in the sacred
page, and then is hidden for ever from our
eyes. It is not said that any special impulse
drew her to the temple. It was her daily
haunt. Instantly serving God day and night,
her life was one of fastings and prayers.
When it was also made known to her that the
infant whom she met in the Temple was no
other than the Christ of God, her song of praise
was added to that of Simeon, but the words of
it are lost. It would, we may be assured, be
a suitable accompaniment, a fit response to his.
He, as may be believed, retired from the Temple to close his eyes in peace, but she was
moved to go about and speak of the Lord whom
she had found to all that looked for redemption
in Jerusalem,-the first preacher of the gospel4
the first female evangelist in the holy city.




62    TmE PRESENTATION IN THE TECmIE.
In the briefest terms let one or two practicaL
reflections be now suggested.
Simeon did not wish to die till he had seen
the Lord his Saviour; as soon as he saw him
he was ready and willing to depart. Till our
spiritual eyes be opened to see Him who is the
way, the truth, and the life, which of us is
ready to meet our Maker, is prepared to behold
his face in peace? But when once our eyes
have seen and our hearts embraced him, which
of us should fear to die? Simeon desired to
depart. It was not that like Job he wished to
die because life had become burdensome. His
wish to depart was not the product of hours of
bitter sorrow, but of a moment of exceeding
joy. It was not that like Paul he desired to
depart in order to be with Christ. It was the
fullness of that gratitude which he felt for the
great gift of God in allowing him to see Christ
in the flesh; it was the depth of that satisfaction and delight which filled his heart as his
arms enfolded Jesus, which, leaving nothing
more, nothing higher that he could hope for in
this world, drew forth, as by a natural impulse,
the expression, " Lord, now lettest thou thy
servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have;een thy salvation." Though nothing is said




THE PRESENTATION IN THE TEmIpiE.    63
about his age in the evangelical narrative, we
may believe that the length of years which he
had already reached, making the thought of
approaching departure from this world familiar,
conspired, if not to beget, yet to give emphasis
to this expression of his desire. But it maybe
well, even though we be not in his exact position, to put to ourselves the question whether
any desire or any willingness -we have ever had
to die was the fruit of hours of earthly disappointments, or of moments of spiritual elation
and joy.
Christ was set for the fall and rising again of
many in Israel; he is set for the fall and rising
again of many still. His gospel never leaves
us as it finds us. It softens or it hardens, it
kills or it makes alive. That stone which the
Jewish builders rejected, is rejected by many
builders still, and yet is the headstone of the
corner. Blessed is he who grounds thereon
his humble yet undoubting trust. "But many
among them," saith the prophet, " shall stumble and fall, and be broken " upon this stone.
May our feet be shielded from such a fate!
The sufferings of Mary were linked with the
sufferings of her Son. It was his being wounded that wounded her. It was the stroke which




64     THE PRESENTATION IN THE TEMPLE.
descended on him that sent the sword into her
heart. The same kind of tie should bind every
believer to Christ. He is so sensitive as to all
that affects his people's welfare and happiness,
that whatever hurts the least of these his little
ones, touches the apple of his eye. And they
in turn should be so sensitive as to all that
affects his honor, his cause, his kingdom on the
earth, that whatever damages or injures them
should send a thrill of answering sorrow through
their heart.
Finally, Christ is the great Revealer of the
thoughts and intents of the heart. Are we
proud, are we covetous, are we worldly, are we
self-willed?  Nothing will more bring out the
sway and empire of these or any kindred passions over us, than the bringing closer home to
us the holy character and unmitigable claims of
Jesus Christ. Keep them at a distance, and
the strong man armed keeps the palace of the
soul, and all comparatively is at peace. Bring
them near, force them home upon the conscience
and the heart; then it is that the inward struggle begins, and in that struggle the spirit unconsciously revealeth its true condition before
God.




IV.
THE VISIT OF THE MAGI.*
THREE striking incidents marked the birth
and infancy of our Lord; first, the midnight appearance of the angelic host to the
shepherds on the plains of Bethlehem, and
their visit to the village in which the great
birth had that night occurred; second, the
presentation of Jesus as a first-born child in the
Temple, and the testimony there given to him
in the prophetic utterances of Simeon and
Anna; and third, the visit of the wise men from
the East, and the worship and offerings which
they presented to the new-born child. Each
of these had its special wonders; in each a
supernatural attestation to the greatness of the
event was given; and woven together, they
form the wreath of heavenly glory hung by the
~ Matthew ii. 1-12.




66        THE VISIT OF THE MAGI.
divine hand around the infancy of the son of
Mary.
It is impossible to determine the date of the
visit of the wise men. It must have occurred
not long after the birth, while Joseph and Mary
still lingered in Bethlehem, and it is of little
moment whether we place it before or after
the presentation in the Temple at Jerusalem.
The epithet by which Matthew describes to us
these Eastern strangers is not so vague and
indefinite as it seems in our translation. He
calls them Magi from the East. The birthplace
and natural home of the magian worship was
in Persia.  And there the Magi had a place
and power such as the Chaldamans had in
Babylon, the iierophants in Egypt, the Druids
in Gaul, and the Brahmnins still have in India.
They formed a tribe or caste, priestly in office,
princely in rank. They were the depositaries
of nearly all the knowledge or science existing
in the country where they lived; they were
the first professors and practisers of astrology,
worshippers of the sun and the other heavenly
bodies, from whose appearance and movements
they drew their divination as to earthly
events- all illustrious births below, being indicated, as they deemed, by certain peculiar




THE VISrr OF THE MAGI.        67
conjunctions of the stars above. Both as
priests and diviners they had great power.
They formed in fact the most influential section of the community. In political affairs
their influence was predominant. The education of royalty was in their hands; they filled
all the chief offices of state; they constituted
the supreme counsel of the realm. As originally applied to this Median priest-caste, the
term Magi was one of dignity and honor. Afterwards, when transferred to other countries,
and employed to designate not that peculiar
sacerdotal order, but all persons of whatever
description who were professors of astrology
and practisers of divination, as these astrologers
and diviners sunk in character, and had
recourse to all kinds of mean imposture, the
name of magian or magician was turned into
one of dishonor and reproach. There seems
no reason, however, to doubt that it was in its
earlier and honorable meaning that it is used
in the Gospel narrative.
Remarkable passages, both from Roman and
Jewish writers,* have been quoted which inform us that at the perio.d of our Saviour's birth
* Suetonius, Tacitus, Josephus.




68        THE VISIT OF THE MAGL
there prevailed generally over the East, in regions remote from Palestine, a vague but
strong belief that one born in Judea was to
arise and rule the world. Popularly this expectation was confined to the appearance of
some warrior chief who, by the might of his
victorious arms, was to subdue the nations under him. But there were many then in every
land, whose faith in their old hereditary religions had been undermined; who, from those
Jews now scattered everywhere abroad, had
learned some of the chief elements of the pure
Israelitish faith; and half embracing it, had
risen to a desire and hope which took a higher
ground, and who, in this expected king that
was to spring out of Judah, were ready to hail
a spiritual guide and deliverer. Such, we believe, were the Magi of Matthew's narrative.
Balaam, a man of their own or a kindred tribe,
in their own or in a neighboring country, had
centuries before foretold that a star should
come out of Jacob, and a sceptre rise out of
Israel (Numb. xxiv. 17.) This and other of
those old Jewish prophecies which pointed to
the same event may have in some form or
other reached their ears, preparing them for
the birth of one who in the first instance was




THE VISIT OF THE MAGI.       69
to be the king of the Jews, but whose kingdom
was to connect itself with other than mere
earthly interests, to have intimate relationships
with man's highest hopes and his eternal
destiny. Sharing the general hope, but with
that hope purified and exalted, let us believe
that these Magi were earnestly, devoutly, waiting the coming of this new king of the Jews
and of mankind. Their office and occupation
led them to the nightly study of the starry heavens; but still as they gazed and speculated
and divined, they felt that it was not from that
glittering broad-spread page of wonders hung
above their heads that any clear or satisfying
information as to the divine character and purposes was to be derived. Much as they fancied they could glean from them as to man's
earthly fortunes, what could the bright mute
stars tell them of the eternal destinies of those
unnumbered human spirits which beneath their
light were, generation after generation, passing
away into the world beyond the grave? How
often may the deep sigh of disappointment
have risen from the depths of these men's
hearts, as to all their earnest interrogatories
not a word of distinct response was given, and
the heavens they gazed on kept the untold




70        THE VISIT OF THE MAGL
secret locked in their capacious bosom. But
the sigh of the earnest seeker after truth, like
the sigh of the lowly, penitent, and contrite
heart, never rises to the throne of heaven in
vain. Many errors may have mingled with
those men's religious opinions, much superstition have been in their religious worship, but
God met in mercy the truth-seeking spirit in
the midst of its errors, and made its very superstition pave the way to faith.
One night, as those Magi stood watching
their cloudless skies, their practised eye detected
a new-come stranger among the stars. The
appearance of new stars is no novelty to the
astronomer. We have authentic records of
stars of first magnitude, rivalling in their brilliance the brightest of our old familiar planets,
shining out suddenly in places where no star
had been seen before, and after a season vanishing away. Singular conjunctions of the
planets have also been occasionally observed,
some of which are known to have occurred
about the time of the Redeemer's birth. It
may possibly have been some such strange appearance in the heavens that attracted the eyes
of the wise men. It is said, however, in the
narrative, that the star went before them till




THE VISIT OF THE MAGI.       71
it came and stood over where the young child
was. Understanding this as implying an actual
and visible movement of the star-that it went,
lantern-like, before them on their way, and
indicated in some way, as by a finger of pointing light, the very spot where they were to
find the child-as no such function could be
discharged by any of the ordinary inhabitants
of the heavens, all about its appearance must
be taken as supernatural, and we must regard
it as some star-like meteor shining in our lower
atmosphere. But be it what it might, however
kindled, whatever curiosity its strange appearance might excite,-though the Magi, penetrated by the popular belief, might naturally
enough have regarded it as an omen of the
great expected birth,-the star could of itself
tell nothing. However miraculous its appearance, if left without an interpreter, it was but
a dumb witness after all. The conviction is
almost forced upon us that, in addition to the
external sign, there was some divine communication made to these Magi, informing them
of the errand which the star was commissioned
to discharge. But why the double indication
of the birth,-the star without, the revelation
made within? Why, but as an evidence and




72        THE VIsIT OF THE MAGI.
illustration of the care and gracious condescen.
sion of Him who not only to the spiritual communication added the external sign, to be a
help to the weak, infant, staggering faith, but
who, in the very shaping of that outward sign,
was pleased to accommodate himself to these
men's earthly calling; and while to Mary and
to the shepherds-Jews living in a land where
stories of angelic manifestations were currentangels were sent to make announcement of the
Redeemer's birth, to those astrologers of the
East he sends a star, meeting them in their own
familiar walks, showing itself among the divinities of their erring worship, gently to lead
them into His presence to whom the world's
true worship was to be given.
But when this star appeared, and after they
understood what its presence betokened, was it
a spontaneous impulse on their part to go and
do homage to the new-born King, or did He
who revealed the birth enjoin the journey?
Whatever the prompting-human or divineon which they acted, it does not appear that
in the first instance anything beyond the general information was communicated, that somewhere in Judea the birth had taken place. The
star, it would appear, did not go before them




THE VISIT OF THE MAGI.       73
all the way, for in that case they would not
have needed to institute any further inquiry.
Its first office discharged, the star disappeared,
leaving them to have recourse to such common
sources of information as lay open to them.
It was at Jerusalem, in the capital of the country over which this new-born King was to
reign; it was there, if anywhere, the needed
intelligence was to be obtained. To Jerusalem,
therefore, they repair. Entering the holy city,
they put eagerly and expectantly the question,
"Where is he that is born King of the Jews?
for we have seen his star in the east, and are
come to worship him."
The question takes the startled city by surprise. No one here has seen the star, no one
here has heard about this king. The tidings of
the arrival of those distinguished strangers, and
of the question which they asked, are carried
quickly to the palace, and circulate rapidly
through the city. Herod is troubled. The
usurper trembles on his throne. Has a new
claimant, with better title to that throne, indeed
been born? How comes it, if it be so, that he
has never heard of such a birth? Has treachery been already busy at its work; have they
been concealing from him this event?  Have




74        THE VIsrrT OF THE MAGI.
the enemies of himself and of his family been
cloaking thus their projects, waiting only for
the fit time to strike the blow, and hurl him
from his seat? The blood he had already shed
to reach that height begins to cry for vengeance,
and spectres of the slaughtered dead shake
their terrors in his face. Herod's trouble at
the tidings we well can understand, but why
was it that all Jerusalem was troubled along
with him? Was it the simple fear of change,
the terror of another revolution; the knowledge of Herod's jealous temper and bloodthirsty disposition; the alarm lest his vindictive
spirit might prompt to some new deed of cruelty, in order to cut off this rival? If so, how
low beneath the yoke of tyranny must the
spirit of those citizens of Jerusalem have sunk;
how completely, for the time, must the selfish
have absorbed the patriotic sentiment in their
breasts!
But whatever alarm he felt, whatever dark
purposes were brooding in his heart, Herod at
first concealed them. He must know more
about this affair, get some information before
he acts. He calls together the chief priests
and the scribes, and at no loss, apparently, to
identify the King of the Jews that the Magi




TiE YVIIT OF THE MAI.        7.5
asked about, with the Christ the Messiah of
ancient prophecy, he demands of them where
Christ should be born. As little at a loss, they
lay their hand at once upon the prophecy of
Micah, which pointed to Bethlehem  as the
birthplace. Furnished with this information,
the king invites the Magi to a private interview, conveys to them the information he had
himself received, and concealing his sinister
designs, sends them off to Bethlehem to search
diligently for the child, and when they had
found him, to bring him word again, that he
too, as he falsely said, might go and worship
him.
Let us pause a moment here to reflect upon
the impression which this visit to Jerusalem,
and the state of things discovered there, was
fitted to make upon these eastern visitors. It
must surely have surprised them to come among
the very people over whom this new-born King
was to rule, to enter the capital of their country,
the city of the chief priests and scribes by
whom, if by any, an event so signal should
have been known, and to find there no notice,
no knowledge of the birth; to find instead,
that they, coming from a strange land, professors of another faith, are the first to tell these




76        THE VISIT OF THE MAGI.
Jews of the advent of their own king. It must
have done more than surprise them; they too,
in their turn, must have been troubled and
perplexed, to see how the announcement, when
it was made, was received; to see such jealousy, such alarm; and, at the last, so great
incredulity or indifference, that near as Bethlehem was, and interesting as was the object
of their visit to it, there were none among
those inhabitants of Jerusalem who cared to
accompany them. Was there nothing here to
awaken doubt, for such faith as theirs to stagger at? Might they not have been deceived?
Perhaps it was a delusion they had listened to;
a deceitful appearance they had seen in their
own land. Had these Magi been men of a
weak faith or an infirm purpose, they might,
instead of going on to Bethlehem, have gone
forth despondingly and distrustfully from Jerusalem, and taken their way back to their own
homes.
But strange and perplexing as all this is,
it neither shakes their faith nor affects their
conduct. They had good reason to believe
that the communication at first made to them
came to them from God, and once satisfied of
this, no conduct on the part of others, however




THE VISrr OF THE MAGI.       77
unaccountable or inconsistent, moves them
away from the beginning of their confidence.
Though all the dwellers in Jerusalem be
troubled at tidings which should have been to
them tidings of great joy; though not a Jew
be ready to join them, or to bid them Godspeed ere they leave the city's gate, to Bethlehem they go.
But a new perplexity arises. Somewhere
in that village the birth has taken place, but
who shall tell them where? If the inhabitants
of the capital knew and cared so little about
the matter, what help will they get from the
villagers at Bethlehem? They may require to
search diligently, as Herod bade them, and yet,
after all, the search may be vain. Just then,
in the midst of their perplexity, the star which
they had seen in the east once more shone
out above their heads to go before them till it
stood over where the young child lay. No
wonder that when they saw that star, they
rejoiced with an exceeding great joy. It dispelled all doubt, it relieved from all perplexity.
When first they saw it in the east, it wore the
face of a stranger among old friends; now it
wears the face of an old friend among strangers, and they hail it as we haiI a friend we




78        THE VISIT OF THE MAGI.
thought was lost, but who comes to us at the
very time we need him most.
Let us note the contrast, as to the mode and
measure of divine guidance given, between the
Magi from the East, and the shepherds of Bethlehem and the Chief Priests and Scribes of
Jerusalem. The shepherds were as sincere,
perhaps more devout than the wise men; understanding better who and what the Messiah
was to be, and longing more ardently for his
coming; but they were uneducated men, men
at least whose position and occupation prevented them from instituting independent inquiries
of their own. They were left to find out nothing: to them a full revelation was at once
given. Such minute information was furnished
as to the time and place and circumstances of
the birth, that they were enabled, with little or
no inquiry, to proceed directly to the place
where the young child lay. The Magi, on the
other hand, were men of intelligence, education, wealth. They had the leisure, and they
possessed all the means for prosecuting an independent research. To them no such full and
minute directory of conduct was supplied.
What they could not learn otherwise than by
a divine revelation, was in that way commu



THE VISIT OF THE MAGI.       79
nicated, but what they could learn by the use
of ordinary means, they were left in that way
to find out. They repair to, and they exhaust
all the common sources of knowledge which
lie open to them. They go to Jerusalem as to
the likeliest place; they get there the information as to the place of the Lord's birth; they
act upon the information thus obtained up to
the furthest limit to which it can carry them.
They tarry not in the unbelieving city, as many
might have done, till further light was given
them. They turn not the incredulity of others
into a ground of doubt, nor the incompleteness
of the intelligence afforded into a ground of
discouragement and delay. They know now
that somewhere in Bethlehem the object of
their search is to be found, and if they fail in
finding him, it will be in Bethlehem that the
failure shall take place. Nor is it till they are
on their way to that village, that the star of
heavenly guidance once more appears; but
then it does appear, and sends gladness into
their hearts.
And have we not all, as followers of the
Crucified, another and higher journey to perform; a journey not to the place of the Satviour's earthly birth, but that of his heavenly




80        THE VISIT OF THE MAGI.
dwelling? And if, on that journey, we act as
those men did, God will deal with us as he
dealt with them. The path before us may be
often hidden in obscurity; our lights may go
out by the way; we may know as little of what
the next stage is to reveal, as those men knew
at Jerusalem what awaited them in their path
to Bethlehem; but if, like them, we hold on
our course, unmoved by the example of others;
if we follow the light given us to the farthest
point to which that light can carry us, then on
us too, when lights all fail, and we seem about
to be left in utter darkness, some star of heavenly guidance will arise, at sight of which we
shall rejoice with an exceeding joy. Unto
those that are thus upright, there shall arise
light in the darkness; and to him that ordereth thus his conversation aright, God shall
show his salvation.
But look, now, at the Chief Priests and
Scribes of the holy city, into whose hands the
ancient oracles of God had been specially committed. They could tell at once, from the prophecies of Micah, the place of the Messiah's
birth; and they conld almost as readily and as
accurately from the prophecies of Daniel have
known the time of his advent. To them, as




THE VIsrr OF THE MAGI.       81
furnished already with sufficient means of information, no supernatural communication of any
kind is made; to them no angel comes; no star
appears, no sign is given. Had they but used
aright the means already in their hands, they
should have been waiting for the coming of the
Lord, with ears all open to catch the first faint
rumors, which must have reached Jerusalem
from a village not more than six miles off, of
what the shepherds saw and heard; they
should have been out to Bethlehem before these
Magi came, ready to welcome those visitors
from a far country, and to conduct them into
the presence of their new-born King. But
they neglected, they abused the privileges they
possessed; and now, as the proper fruit of their
own doings, not only is the same kind of information supplied to others denied to them, but
the very way in which they are first informed
works disastrously, and excites hostile prejudices in their breast. "Where is he," these
strangers say to them, "who is born King of
the Jews?" Has an event like this occurredoccurred within a few miles of the metropolisand they, the heads and rulers of the Jewish
people, not know of it! For their first knowledge of it must they be indebted to these for



82        THE VISIT OF THE MAGI.
eigners, men ignorant of Judea, unread in their
sacred books! A star, forsooth, these men said
had appeared to them in the East; was it. to
be believed that for them in their land of heathen darkness and superstition such a fresh light
should be kindled in the heavens, whilst to
God's own appointed priesthood, no discovery
of any kind had been made! We discern thus
in its very earliest stage, that antipathy to the
son of Mary which, beginning in incredulity,
and fostered by pride, grew into malignant hatred, and issued in the nailing of Jesus to the
cross. And even in the first stages of the course
they followed, they appear before us, reaping
the fruit of their former doings, and sowing the
seeds of their after crimes; for it is thus that
the husbandry of wickedness goes on, —the
seed-time and the harvest, the sowing and the
reaping going on together. What a sin'gular
spectacle does the proud and jealous priesthood of Judea thus present, learned in the letter of their own Scriptures but wholly ignorant
of their spirit; pointing the way to others, not
taking a single step in it themselves; types of
the nation they belonged to, of the function
which the Jews have so largely since discharged —the openers of the door to Gentile




THE VisT OF THE MAGI.      83
inquirers, the closers of that door upon themselves.
We rejoin now the Magi at Bethlehem.
They enter the indicated house, and stand before a mother and her child: a mother of very
humble appearance; a child clad in simplest
attire. Can this, they think, as they look
around, be the roof beneath which infant royalty lies cradled! Can that be the child they
have come so far to see and worship! Had
they known all about that infant which we
now know; had they known that an angelic
choir had already sung his birth, lading the
midnight breezes with a richer freight of melody than they had ever wafted through the
skies; had they known that in that little hand
which lay folded there in feebleness, in the
gentle breath which was heaving that infant
bosom, the power of omnipotence lay slumbering,-that at the touch of the one, the blind
eye was to open and the tied tongue to be unloosed,-that at the bidding of the other, the
wildest elements of nature in their stormiest
march were to stand still, devils were to be
driven out from their usurped abodes, and the
dead to come forth from the sepulchre; had
they known that at the death of this Son of




84        THE VIsIT OF THE MAGI.
Mary, the sun was to be darkened, the rocks
were to be rent, and the graves to give up
their old inhabitants,-that he himself was to
burst the barriers of the tomb, and rise in triumph, attended by angel escort, to take his
place at the right hand of the Majesty in the
heavens,-,we should not have wondered at
the ready homage which they rendered to him.
But they knew nothing of all this. What they
did know we cannot tell. We only know that
instantly, in absence of all outward warrant
for the act, in spite of the most unpromising
appearances, they bow the knee before that
undistinguished infant, lower than it bent before the haughty Herod at Jerusalem; bow in
adoration such as they never rendered to any
earthly sovereign. And that act of worship
over, they open their treasures and present to
him their gifts: the gold, the frankincense, and
the myrrh, the rarest products of the East; an
offering such as any monarch might have had
presented to him by the ambassadors from any
foreign prince. When we take the whole course
of these men's conduct into account; when we
remember that they had none of the advantages of a Jewish birth or education, of an
early acquaintance with the Jewish Scriptures;




THE VISIT OF THE MAGI.      85
when we think of their starting on their long
and perilous journey with no other object than
the making of this single obeisance to the infant
Redeemer of mankind; when we look at them
standing unmoved, amid all the discouragements of the Jewish metropolis; when we
attend them on their solitary way to Bethlehem;
when we stand by their side, as beneath that
lowly roof they silently worship, and spread
out their costly gifts,-we cannot but regard
their faith as in many of its features unparalleled in the gospel narrative; we cannot but
place them in the front rank of that goodly
company in whose acts the power and the triumph of a simple faith shine forth.
That single act of homage rendered, they return to their own country, and we hear of them
no more. They come like spirits casting no
shadow before them; and like spirits they depart, passing away into that obscurity from
which they had emerged. But our affection
follows them to their native land,-would fain
penetrate the secret of their after lives and
deaths. Did these men see, and hear, and know
no more of Jesus? Were they living, whenafter thirty years of profoundest silence, not a
rumor of his name going anywhere abroad



86        THE VISITrr OF THE MAGI.
tidings came at last of the words he spake, the
deeds he did, the death he died? We would
fain believe, so far, the quaint old legend of the
middle ages, that connects itself with the fancied resting-place of their relics in the Cathedral of Cologne; we would fain believe that
they lived to converse with one of the apostles
of the Lord, and to receive Christian baptism
at his hands. However it may have been, we
can scarce believe that He whose star carried
them from their eastern homes to Bethlehem,
and whose Spirit prompted the worship they
then rendered, left them to die in heathen ignorance and unbelief. Let us cherish rather
the belief that they who bowed so reverently
before the earthly cradle, are now worshipping
with a profounder reverence before the heavenly throne.
But what special significance has this incident
in the early life of our Redeemer? Why were
these men summoned from their distant homes
to come so far, to pay that single act of homage
to the infant Jesus, and then retire forever
from our sight? Why, but that even with the
first weak beginnings of the Saviour's earthly
life, there might be a foretokening of the wide
embrace of that kingdom he came to establish;




THE VISITrr OF THE MAGI.     87
a first fulfilling of those ancient prophecies
which had foretold that the Gentiles should
come to this light, and kings to the brightness
of its rising; that all they from Sheba should
come, bringing gold and incense. These eastern Magi were the earliest ambassadors from
heathen lands, the first shadowy precursors of
that great company to be gathered in from the
east, and from the west, and from the north,
and from the south, to sit down with Abraham
in the kingdom of the just. In these persons,
and in their act, the Gentile world, of which
they formed a part, gave an early welcome to
the Redeemer, and hastened to lay its tribute
at his feet. They were in fact,-and this should
bind them the closer to our hearts, —they were
our representatives at Bethlehem, making for
us Gentiles the first expression of our faith, the
first offer of our allegiance. Let us rightly
follow up what they did in our name. First,
they worshipped, and then they gave the best
and richest things they had. The gold, the
frankincense, the myrrh, had been of little
worth had the worship of the heart not gone
before and sanctified the gift. But the gift
most appropriately followed the worship.
First, then, let us give ourselves to the Lord,




88         THE VISIT OF THE MAGI.
our heart the first oblation that we proffer;
for the heart once given, the hand will neither
be empty nor idle, nor will it grudge the richest thing that it can hold, nor the best service
it can render.




THE MASSACRE OF THE INNOCENTS, AND THE
FLIGHT INTO EGYPT.*
T HERE are three Herods who appear prominently in the pages of the New Testament.
First, Herod the Great, the son of a crafty and
wealthy Idumean or Edomite, who, during the
reign of the last of the Asmonean princes, attained to great political influence in Judea, securing for his eldest son, Phasselus, the governorship of Jerusalem; and for Herod, his
younger son, the chief command in Galilee.
Phasselus was cut off in one of those political
commotions which the raising of a foreign
family. to such an elevated position engendered,
but Herod escaped all the perils to which he
was thus exposed, distinguished himself by his
* Matthew ii. 13-23.




90    THE 3MASSACRE OF THE INNOCENTS.
address and bravery, showed great political
foresight in allying himself closely with the
power which he saw was to prevail in Judea
as over all other lands, sought and won the
personal friendship of Cassius and of Mark Antony, and, mainly by the influence of the latter,
was proclaimed King of the Jews.
Second, Herod Antipas, a son of this first
Herod, who, in that division of his father's
kingdom which took place at his decease, became Tetrarch of Galilee and Perea. This was
the Herod who so often appears in the narrative of our Lord's ministry, who at first heard
John the Baptist gladly, but who afterwards
gave the order for his execution; who happened to be in Jerusalem at the time of Christ's
trial and condemnation, and who was brought
then into such singular contact with Jesus.
Thgrd, Herod Agrippa, a grandson of the
first Herod, though not a son of Herod Antipas,
who was invested by the Romans with the
royal dignity, and ruled over all the country
which had been subject to his grandfather.
This was the Herod who appears in the history
of the Acts of the Apostles; who stretched
forth his hands to vex certain of the church;
who killed James, the brother of John, with




THE MASSACRE OF THE INNOCENTS.    91
the sword; who, because he saw that it pleased
the Jews, proceeded to take Peter also; and
whose awful death so soon afterwards at Cwsarea, St. Luke has so impressively recorded.
Our Saviour, we know, was born near the
end of the long reign of the first of these
Herods, and the latest and most successful investigations of the chronology of Christ's life
have taught us to believe that it was in the
last year of Herod's reign, and close upon that
monarch's last illness and death, that the birth
at Bethlehem took place. The terrible malady
which made his closing scene not less awful
than that of his grandson Agrippa, had already
begun its work, and given forewarning of the
fatal issue. He was in a moody, suspicious,
vengeful state of feeling. His reign had long
been outwardly brilliant and prosperous. He
had defeated all the schemes of his political opponents. With a firm and cruel hand he had
kept down all attempts at intestine revolt. By
a large remission of taxation, by extraordinary
liberality in times of famine, by lavish expenditure on public works, the erection of new
cities and the rebuilding of the Temple at Jerusalem, he had sought to dazzle the public
eye and win the public favor. But nothing




92    THE MASSACRE OF THE INNOCENTS.
could quench the Jewish suspicion of him as
an Edomite. This suspicion fed upon his attempts to introduce and encourage heathen
games and pastimes, and grew intensely, bitter
as it watched with what unrelenting hate he
persecuted and cut of all the members of that
Maccabean family whose throne he had usurped,
around whom Jewish gratitude and hope still
fondly clung. This ill-concealed enmity preyed
upon the proud, dark spirit of Herod. It
taught him to see his deadliest foes in the
bosom of his own family. Passionately attached to her, he had married the beautiful
but ill-fated Mariamne, the daughter of Alexander, one of the Asmonean princes. She inherited the pride and ambition of her family;
bitterly resenting, as well she might, the secret
order which she discovered Herod had issued,
that she should be cut off if he failed to secure
the throne for himself in the embassage to
Rome which he undertook after the defeat of
Mark Antony, his first patron. Her resentment of this order had the worst interpretation
put upor it, and in the transport of a jealousy
in which both personal and political elements
were combined, Herod ordered her to be beheaded. Then followed those transports of re



THE MSSACRE OF THE INNOCENTS.   93
morse, which, for a time, bereft the frantic
prince of reason. Mariamne gone, the father's
jealousy was directed to his two sons by her,
in whose veins the hated Asmonean blood was
flowing. IHe sent for Antipater, his son by the
wife he had divorced in order to marry Mariamne, and set him up as their rival and his
successor. But the popular favor clung to
Alexander and Aristobulus, the sons of the
murdered Mariamne. Herod's court and family
became a constant gloomy scene of dissension
and distrust. Charges of treasonable designs
on the part of Alexander and Aristobulus
against his person and government were secretly poured into the ear of Herod. Men of
inferior rank, supposed to be implicated, were
seized, tortured, and executed, till at last, by
their father's own order, the two young princes,
then in the flower of their early manhood, were
strangled. Antipater had been the chief instrument in urging Herod on to this inhuman
deed, and now in that very son whom he had
done so much for, he found the last worst object of his jealous wrath. Antipater was proved
to have conspired to poison his old, doting,
diseased, and dying father. He was summoned
to Jerusalem. Herod raised himself from his




94    TiH MASSACRE o TH INNOCENTS.
bed of suffering, and gave the order for his
execution. His own death drew on. It maddened him to think that there would be none
to mourn for him; that at his death there
would be a general jubilee. The fiendish idea
seized him, that if there were none who voluntarily would weep for him, there should at least
be plenty of tears shed at his death; and so
his last command-a command happily not executed-was, that the heads of all the chief
families in Judea should be assembled in the
Hippodrome, and that as soon as it was known
that he had drawn his last breath, they should
be mercilessly slaughtered; and thus, his body
consumed by inward ulcers, and his spirit with
tormenting passions, Herod died.
I have recited thus much of this King's history, that you may see in what harmony with
his other doings was his massacre of the innocents at Bethlehem. When he heard of the
coming of the Magi, and of the birth of this
new King of the Jews, the sceptre was already
dropping from his aged and trembling hands.*
But as the dying hand of avarice clutches its
gold the firmer as it feels the hour draw on
* He was seventy years old when he died.




THE MASSACRE OF THE INNOCENTS.    95
when it must give it up, so did the dying hand
of ambition clutch the sceptre, and he deter.
mined that if he could hold it no longer, he
would at least try to cut off all who might
claim to wield it at his death. A lifetime's
practice had made him a proficient in craft.
He inquired privily of the wise men as to the
time at which the star appeared. Had he
even then, when he made this inquiry, matured
his bloody project; and did he wish, by knowing the precise time of the star's appearance, to
assure himself of the exact age of the child he
intended to destroy; or was the inquiry made
for the purpose of ascertaining whether any
like star had been seen anywhere in Judea,
seeking thus to confirm or invalidate what the
wise men said? This only we can say, that if
it were but a few days after the birth of Jesus
that the Magi visited Jerusalem, and if the
order that Herod afterwards issued to his executioners was founded on the information given him as to the time of the star's appearance,
then the first appearance of the star must have
been coincident, not with the birth of Jesus,
but with the annunciation of that birth to
Mary. Herod may have fancied from what he
learned from the Magi that the child must now




96    TmE MASSACRE OF THE INNOCENTS.
be about a year old, and, giving a broad mar.
gin, that no chance of escape might be given,
his order ran that all under two years of age
should be destroyed.
Perhaps, however, Herod's only object in his
first private interview with the Magi was to
extract from them all the information he could,
with no precise or definite purpose as to how
he should act upon the information. so obtained. When he told them to go and search
diligently for the child, and when they had
found him, to come and bring him word, it was
not with any purpose on his part to go and
worship him-in saying that he meant to do
so, we may well believe him to have been
playing the hypocrite-but neither may it
have been with an already fixed resolution to
act as he afterwards did. But the wise men
did not return; he ascertained that they had
been in Bethlehem, that they had left that
place, that without coming to see him and report as to the result of their search, they were
already beyond his reach on their way back to
their distant home. The birth was by this
very circumstance made all the surer in his
eyes, and to his natural alarm at such a birth,
there was now added bitter chagrin at being




THEm MASSACRE OF THE INNOCENTS.    97
mocked in this way by these strangers. Had
they seen through the mask which he imagined
he had fashioned so artfully and worn so well?
Nothing galls the crafty more than when their
craft is discovered, and the discovery is turned
against themselves. Angry with the men who
had treated him thus, Herod is angry, too, with
himself for having given them the opportunity
to outwit him. Why had he not sent some of
his own trusty servants with them to Bethlehem? Why had he been so foolish as to trust
these foreigners? Irritated at them, irritated
at himself, determined that this child shall not
escape, he sends his bandits out upon their
bloody errand.
That errand was to be quickly and stealthily
executed. In so small village as Bethlehem,
and in the thinly scattered population which
lay around it, there could be but a few male
infants under two years old. It is but one of
the dreams of the middle-age' imagination
which has swelled the numbers of the slaughtered to thousands; one or two dozens would
be nearer to the mark. A few practised hands
such as Herod could easily secure would have
little difficulty in finishing their work in the
course of one forenoon. It was spring-time of




98     THE MASSACRE OF THE INNOCENTS
the year;* the parents were busy in the fields
the unprotected homes lay open. Before any
concerted resistance could be offered, half the
children might be slain. Every precaution, we
may believe, was taken by Herod, that it should
not be known at whose instance the deed was
done. He was too wily a politician to make
ally such public manifestation of his vindictive
alarm, as his sending forth a company of
executioners, clothed visibly with the royal
authority, would have made. But secretly,
promptly, vigorously as his measures were
taken, they came too late. When told that
not a child of the specified age had been permitted to escape, he may have secretly congratulated himself on that peril to his government being thus summarily set aside. But an
eye more vigilant than his was watching over
the safety of the infant Jesus. In a dream
of the night the angel of the Lord had appeared to Joseph; told him of the impending
peril, and specially directed him as to the manner of escape. Without an hour's delay the
warning given was acted on. The journey
from Bethllehem to the nearest part of Egypt
* It has been accurately ascertained that Herod must have
died between the 13th March and the 4th April, 750 A. u. c.




AND THE FLIGHT INTO EGYP.           99
was soon performed, and secured from  the
stroke of Herod's bandits and placed beyond
the after reach of Herod's wrath, the child was
safe. The flight was hasty and the sojourn in
Egypt was but short.* The way for the
return was open, and in fulfillment of his
promise the angel came to Joseph to tell him
that they were dead who sought the young
child's life. Struck by all the circumstances
which had accompanied the birth there, Joseph
and Mary had perhaps resolved to take up
their residence in Bethlehem. But on entering Judea they heard that though Herod was
dead, his son Archelaus ruled in his stead; a
prince who early proved that the spirit of his
father had descended on him, one of the first
acts of his reign being the slaughter of three
thousand of his countrymen in Jerusalem.
The apprehensions of Joseph were verified by
the angel once more appearing to him in a
dream, and directing him to pass on through
Judea, and take up his abode again in Nazareth, a hamlet in the province of Galilee.
* Accepting either the close of the year 749 A. U. C. or the
beginning of 750 A. U. c. as the, most probable date of the birth
of Christ, and assuming that the visit of the Magi succeeded the
presentation in the Temple, the stay in Egypt could have been
but short




100    THE MASSACRE OF THE INNOCENTS
In the narrative of this passage of our Lord's
infant life as given by St. Matthew, two things
strike us.
1. The prominent part assigned to, and assumed by Joseph as the earthly guardian of
the child; the frequency, the minuteness, and
the manner in which these divine intimations
were made to him on which he acted. In
every instance it was in a dream of the night
that the heavenly warning came. Nor was the
warning in any instance vague, but remarkably
definite and satisfactory. He was told at first
not simply that danger was at hand; he was
told specifically what that danger was: "Herod
will seek the young child to destroy him." He
was told not simply to escape from Bethlehem,
but to flee into Egypt; of Herod's death he
got timely information, and while hesitating as
to what he should do on his return into Judea,
he had his doubts removed and his fears allayed
by another divine direction. Are we wrong in
interpreting the heavenly messenger's manner
of acting towards the foster-parent of our Saviour as indicative of a very watchful and tender solicitude on Joseph's part for the safety
of that strange child to whom he was united
by so strange a tie? He appears as the heaven



AND THE FLIGHT INTO EGYPT.    101
appointed, heaven-instructed sentinel, set to
watch over the infant days of the Son of the
Highest, chosen for this office, and aided in its
discharge, not without such regard to his personal qualifications as is ordinarily shown under the divine government in the selection of
fit agents for each part of the earthly work.
We are led thus to think of him as taking an
almost more than paternal interest in the babe
committed to his care, thinking about him so
much and so anxiously by day that his dreams
by night are of him, and that it is in these
dreams the angel comes to give the needed
guidance, and to seal, as it were, by the divine
approval, the watchful care by which the dreams
had been begotten. And we are the more disposed to think thus favorably of Joseph as we
reflect upon the peculiar relationship in which
he stood to Jesus, and remember that this is
the only glimpse we get of the manner in which
the duties of that relationship were discharged.
In the record of our Lord's ministry he never
appears. The conclusion seems natural that
he had died before that ministry began. It is
only in his connexion with the birth and infancy and childhood of Jesus that any sight of
Joseph is obtained, and it pleases us to think




102    THE MASSACRE OF THE INNOCENTS
that he who was honored to be the guardian
of that sacred life in the first great peril to
which it was exposed, was one not unworthy
of the trust, but who lovingly, faithfully, tenderly executed it.
2. In reading this portion of the Gospel of
St. Matthew, we are struck with the frequent
references to the history and prophecies of the
Old Testament. Such references are peculiar
to St. Matthew, and they are due to the character of those to whom his Gospel was especially addressed, and to the object he had especially in view. His Gospel was written for
converted Jews and his great aim was to present to such Jesus Christ as the Messiah promised to their fathers. Continually, therefore,
throughout his narrative, as almost nowhere in
the narratives of the other Evangelists, he
quotes from the Old Testament Scriptures with
the view of showing how accurately and completely they were fulfilled in the life and death
of Jesus of Nazareth. The very formula,
"that it might be fulfilled," is peculiar to the
first Gospel. The method thus followed by
St. Matthew was admirably fitted to soothe the
prejudices of Jewish converts, and establish
them in a true faith in Christ. Thus it is that




AN THE FLIGHT INTO EGYPT.     103
in. the passage now before us, he attempts to
obviate objections that might naturally arise in
Jewish minds, on their being told of such
events-to them  so untoward and unlookedfor —in the life of the infant Messiah as his
being forced to find a temporary retreat in the
land of Egypt, the slaughter of so many infants
on his account, and the fixing of his abode in a
remote hamlet of Galilee. Nothing could be
more calculated to allay any prejudice created
by the recital of such iDcidents than to point
to parallel or analogous ones in the history of
ancient Israel. The three citations of this kind
which St. Matthew makes differ somewhat in
their character. Of only one of them is it certain that there was a literal fulfillment of a prophecy uttered with immediate and direct reference to Christ. He came and dwelt, it is
said, in Nazareth, "that it might be fulfilled
which was spoken by the prophets, He shall
be called a Nazarene." Yet it is singular that
this prophecy, which was obviously one spoken
directly of the Messiah, is nowhere to be found
in the Old Testament Scriptures as they now
are in our hands. But this hinders not our
belief that by some one or other of the ancient
prophecies the words that St. Matthew auotes




104    TmE MASSACRE OF THE INNOCENTS
had been spoken. As Jude recites and verifies a prophecy of Enoch, of which otherwise
we should have been ignorant, as St. Paul reports a saying of our Lord which otherwise
should not have been preserved, so St. Matthew
here records a prophecy which but for his citation of it would have perished.
It is different, however, with the other two
citations from ancient prophecy. These we
can readily lay our hands upon, and in doing
so become convinced that St. Matthew did not
and could not mean to assert that in the events
which he related they had directly and literally
been verified. His object was rather to declare-and that was sufficient-that the incidents to which those old prophecies did in the
first instance refer, were not only kindred in
character, but were typical or symbolically
prophetic of those which he was describing in
the life of Jesus. He quotes thus a part of
that verse in the 11th chapter of Hosea which
runs thus: " When Israel was a child, then I
loved him, and called my son out of Egypt."
If that ancient Israel of which the Lord had
said,'He is my son,'' He is my first-born,'
while yet he was as it were but an infant, was
carried down into and thereafter brought safe




AND THE FLIGHT INTO EGYPT.   105
out of Egypt, was it a strange thing that He
who was Jehovah's own and only Son, the firstborn among many brethren, of whom and of
whose Church that Israel was a type, should
in his infancy have passed through a like ordeal
of persecution and of deliverance? The point
of the fulfillment of the prophecy here alleged
does not lie in Hosea's having Christ actually
and personally in his eye when he penned the
words quoted by St. Matthew, but in the fact
related by Hosea having a typical reference to
a like fact in that after history which stands
shadowed forth throughout in the outward history of ancient Israel.
It is in the same way that we are to understand the quotation from the 31st chapter of
the prophecies of Jeremiah. It is in direct
connexion with his statement of the fact that
Herod sent forth and slew all the children that
were in Bethlehem, from two years old and
under, that St. Matthew says, "Then was fulfilled that which was spoken by Jeremy the
prophet." " But Matthew," says Calvin, " does
not mean that the prophet had predicted what
Herod should do, but that at the advent of
Christ that mourning was renewed which many
ages before the women of Benjamin had made."




106   THE MASSACRE OF THE INNOCENTs
Primarily the words of the prophet referred to
the carrying away of a large portion of the
tribes of Benjamin and Judah captives to Babylon. In describing the bitter grief with which
the heart of the country was then smitten,
Jeremiah, by a figure as bold as it is picturesque and impressive, summons the long-buried
Rachel, the mother of Benjamin, from her
grave, representing her as roused from the
sleep of ages to bewail the captivity of her
children. But Rachel's grave lay near to Bethlehem, and now another bitter woe had come
upon the land in the murder of those innocents
in that village, and what more natural than
that St. Matthew should revive, re-appropriate,
and re-apply that image of Jeremiah, representing Rachel as anew issuing from her tomb
to weep over these her slaughtered children?
But there was. something more here than a
mere apposite application to a scene of recent
sorrow of a poetical image that originally referred to the grief caused by the captivity.
That very grief which filled the land of Judah
may have been intended to prefigure the lamentation that now filled Bethlehem and all its
borders. Rachel rising from her tomb, and
filling the air then with her lamentations, may




AND THE FLIGHT INTO EGYPT.    107
have been meant to stand as a type or representative of these mothers of Bethlehem, all
torn in heart by the snatching of their little
ones from their struggling arms, and the killing of them before their eyes. If it be so, then
that passage in Jeremiah speaks of something
more than of the mere suffering inflicted and
the sorrow it produced. The weeping Rachel
is not suffered to weep on, to weep out her
grief. There are words of comfort for her in
her tears. There is a message from the Lord
to her that speaks in no ambiguous terms of
the after-destiny, the future restoration of
those children so rudely torn from their maternal embrace. For what are the words which
immediately follow those which St. Matthew
has quoted:- "Thus saith the Lord, Refrain
thy voice from weeping, and thine eyes from
tears: for thy work shall be.rewarded, saith
the Lord; and they shall come again from the
land of the enemy. And there is hope in thine
end, saith the Lord, that thy children shall
come again to their own border." If we have
any right to apply this part of the prophecy to
this incident of the evangelic history, then may
we take the words that I have now quoted as
carrying with them the assurance that those




108   THE MASSACRE OF THE INNOCENT8.
children who perished under the stroke of
Herod's hirelings died not spiritually; that
they shall come again from the land of the last
enemy, come again with Him whose birth was
so mysteriously connected with their death.
We know that those infants, whose ghastly remains the weeping mothers gathered up to lay
in their untimely graves, shall rise again in the
resurrection at the last day. To them that
resurrection, itself a fruit of the Saviour's advent, must come as a boon, a benefit, not as a
bane or curse. Let it be what it may to others,
who have had full opportunity to receive or
reject the Saviour, to them it can be nothing
else than a resurrection into everlasting life.
To believe otherwise of them, and of all who
die in infancy, would be to believe that those
who are called away from this world while yet
the first dew-drops of life are on them, are
placed thereby in a worse condition than that
in which it is the declared purpose of the gospel to place all mankind. It is a belief which
we cannot adopt. Our assurance is clear, and,
as we think, well grounded —though these
grounds we cannot now pause to unfold-that
all who die in infancy are saved. Distinguished
among them all, let us believe this of those




AND THE FLIGHT INTO EGYPT.     109
slaughtered babes of Bethlehem. Their fate
was singularly wrapped up with that of the infant Saviour. The stroke that fell on them
was meant for him; the sword of persecution
which swept so mercilessly in many an after
age through the ranks of Christ's little ones
was first reddened in their blood. The earliest
victims to hatred of the Nazarene-if not consciously and willingly, yet actually dying for
him-let us count them as the first martyrs for
Jesus, and let us believe that in them the truth
of the martyr's motto was first made good,
" Near to the sword, near to God."  "0 blessed infants!" exclaims Augustine; "He who at
his birth had angels to proclaim him, the
heavens to testify, and Magi to worship him,
could surely have prevented that these should
have died for him, had he not known that they
died not in that death, but rather lived in
higher bliss."




VI.
THE THIRTY YEARS AT NAZARETH —-CHRIST
AMONG THE DOCTORS.*
P among the hills of Galilee, in a basin
surrounded by swelling eminences, which
shut it in on every side, lies the little village
of Nazareth. Its name does not occur in Old
Testament history. Josephus never mentions
it, though he speaks of places lying all around
it. Its inhabitants were not worse than their
neighbors, nor exposed on account of their
character to any particular contempt, yet Nathanael, himself a Galilean, could say, Can
there any good thing come out of Nazareth?
so small and insignificant was the place. It
was here, as in a fit retreat, that the childhood,
youth, and early manhood of our Lord passed
quietly and unnoticed  away. Those thirty
* Luke ii. 40-52.




CHRIST AMONG THE DOCTORS.    111
years of the life of the Son of God upon this
earth, how deeply hidden from us do they lie!
how profound the silence regarding them
which the sacred writers preserve! a silence
all the more remarkable when we consider
how natural and strong is our desire to know
something, to be told something of the earlier
days of any one who, at some after period of
his life, has risen to distinction. But all that
here is told us of the first twelve years of our
Saviour's life is that the child grew, waxed
strong in spirit, was filled with wisdom, and
that the grace of God was upon him. Had
any of these wonders which attended his birth
been renewed, had anything supernatural occurred in the course of those years, we may
presume it would have been'related or alluded
to. Nothing of that kind we may infer did
happen. Outwardly and inwardly the growth
of Jesus under Mary's care at Nazareth, obeyed
the common laws under which human infancy
and childhood are developed. Beyond that
gentle patience which nothing could ruffle, that
simple truthfulness which nothing could turn
aside; beyond that love which was always ready to give back smile for smile to Mary and
the rest around, and to go forth rejoicingly on




112    THE THIRTY YEARS AT NAZARETH.
its little errands of kindness within the home
of the carpenter; beyond that wisdom which,
wonderful as it was, was childlike wisdom still,
growing as his years grew, and deriving its
increase from all the common sources which
lay open to it; beyond the charm of all the
graces of childhood in their full beauty and in
their unsullied perfection-there was nothing
externally to distinguish his first twelve years.
So we conclude from the absence of all notices
of them in the gospel narrative. Of the void
thus left, however, the Christian Church became early impatient. Many attempts were
made to fill it up. In the course of the first
four centuries numerous pseudo-gospels were
in circulation, a long list of which has been
made up out of the references to them which
occur in the preserved writings of that period.*
Some of these apocryphal gospels are still extant, two of them entitled the Gospel of the
Infancy; and it is very curious to notice how
those succeeded who tried to lift the veil which
covers the earlier years of Christ. One almost
feels grateful that such early attempts were
made to fill up the blank which the four Evan.
* See Jones on the Canon.




CHRIST AMONG TiE  DOCTORS.                113
gelists have left.* They enable us to contrast
the simplicity, the naturalness and consistency
of all that the  Evangelists have  recorded  of
Christ, with such empty and unmeaning tales.
They do more. These apocryphal gospels
were written by Christians, by men who wished
to honor Christ in all they said about him; by
men who had that portraiture of his character
before  them   which  the four Gospels supply;
and yet we find them narrating, as being in
what seemed to them entire harmony with that
character, that when boys interrupted Jesus in
* These Gospels of the infancy of our Lord are full of miracles
of the most frivolous description, miracles represented as wrought
first by the simple presence of the infant, by the clothes he wore,
the water in which he was washed, wrought afterwards by the Son
of Mary himself as he grew up at Nazareth, many alleged incidents
of his boyhood there being gravely related, as when we are told
that he and the other children of the village went out to play together, busying themselves in making clay into the shapes of various birds and beasts, whereupon Jesus commanded his beasts to
walk, his birds to fly, and so excelled them all; or again, when we
are told that passing by a dyer's shop he saw many pieces of cloth
laid out to be dyed, all of which he took and flung into a neighboring furnace, throwing the poor owner of the shop into an
agony of consternation and grief, and then pleasantly relieving
him by drawing all the pieces out of the furnace, each one now of
the very color which had been desired. Such are the specimens,
chosen chiefly because they are the least absird of the many
which are recorded in these Gospels. It was thus, as these writers
would exhibit it,that the early boyhood of our Lord was spent;
it was by miracles such as those which I have recited, that he even
then distinguished himself.




114    THE THIRTY YEARS AT NAZARETH.
his play, or ran against him in the street of the
village, he looked upon them and denounced
them, and they fell down and died. It was
said, I believe by Rousseau, that the conception
and delineation of such a character as that of
the man Christ Jesus, by such men as the
fishermen of Galilee, would have been a greater
miracle than the actual existence of such a
man. In these apocryphal gospels we have a
singular confirmation of that saying; we have
the proof that men better taught, many of
them, than the Apostles even when they had
the full delineation of the manhood of Jesus in
their hands, could not attempt a fancy sketch
of his childhood without not only violating our
sense of propriety, by attributing to him the
most puerile and unmeaning displays of divine
power, but shocking our moral sense, and falsifying the very picture they had before their
eyes, by attributing to him acts of vengeance.
Joseph and Mary " went to Jerusalem every
year at the feast of the Passover."  The Mosaic law required that all the male inhabitants
of Judea should go up three times yearly to
the capital, to keep the three great festivals of
the Passover, Pentecost, and Tabernacles. A
later Rabbinical authority had laid an injunction




CHRIST AMONG THE DOCTORS.    115
uapon women to attend the feast of the Passover.
Living as they did in so remote a part of the
country, it is probable that the parents of our
Lord satisfied themselves with going up together once yearly to Jerusalem; Joseph thus
doing less, and Mary more than the old law
enjoined. When Jesus was twelve years old,
Joseph and Mary took him up with them to
Jerusalem. He had then reached that age,
when, according to -Jewish reckoning, he
crossed the line which divides childhood from
youth, got the new name of a son of the Lord,
and had he been destined to any public office,
would have passed into the hands of the Rabbis,
for the higher instructions which their schools
supplied. Jesus, however, had received no
other instruction than the village school, attached to the synagogue at Nazareth, had supplied, and was destined to no higher employment than that of the trade his father followed.
The purpose of Joseph and Mary in taking
him up with them to Jerusalem was not that
he might be placed at the feet of Gamaliel, or
any other of the great distinguished teachers
of the metropolis, but simply that he might see
the holy city, and take part with them in the
sacred services of the Passover.




116    THE THIRTY YEARS AT NAZARETH.
There a new world opened to the boy's
wondering eyes. With what interest must he
have looked around, when first he trod the
courts of the Temple, and gazed upon the ministering priests, the altar with its bleeding
sacrifice and rising incense, the holy place, and
the secret shrine that lay behind the veil!
The places, too, of which we shall have to
speak immediately, where youths of his own
age were to be found,.would not be left unvisited. What thoughts were stirred within
his breast by all these sights, it becomes us not
even to attempt to imagine. The key is not
in our hands with which we might unlock the
mysteries of his humanity at this stage of its
development. He has himself so far unveiled
his thoughts and feelings as to teach us how
natural it was that he should linger in the holy
city, and under the power of a new attraction
feel for a day or two as if the ties that bound
him to Nazareth and to his home there were
broken.
The seven days of the feast went by. It
had been a crowded procession from Galilee,
which Joseph and Mary had joined. Galilee
was then, as Josephus informs us, very thickly
populated, studded with no less than two hun



CHRIST AMONG THE DOCTORS.    117
dred and forty towns, containing each fifteen
thousand inhabitants or more, sending forth in
the war with the Romans an army of no less
than one hundred thousand men. The separate
companies which this crowded population sent
up at the Passover time to Jerusalem would
each be large, and as the youths of the company consorted and slept near one another in
the course of the journey, it is the less surprising that, on leaving Jerusalem to return to
Nazareth, Joseph and Mary should not during
the day have missed their son, who had stayed
behind, nor have become aware of his absence
till they sought for him among his companions
when they rested for the night. The discovery
was a peculiarly distressing one. What if some
oversight had been committed by them? if
they had failed to tell their son of the time of
the departure, if they had failed to notice
whether he was among the other youths before they left the city? They had such confidence in that child, who never before in a
single instance had done anything to create
anxiety or distrust; they were so sure that he
would be where, as they thought, he ought to
be, that they had scarcely felt perhaps an ordinary degree of parental solicitude. And




118    THE THIRTY YEARS AT NAZARETH.
where could he now be; what could have
happened to him? Their eager inquiries would
probably soon satisfy them that he had not
fallen aside by the way, that he had never
joined the returning travellers, that he must
have remained behind in Jerusalem. But with
whom? for what? He knew no friends there
with whom to stay. Had some accident befallen him? was he detained against his will?
Did any one at Jerusalem know the secrets of
his birth; were there any there who still sought
the young child's life? Herod was dead; Archelaus was banished; the parents themselves
had not been in Jerusalem since the time they
had presented the infant in the temple. It
was not likely they should be recognized; none
of their friends at Nazareth knew about the
mysteries of the conception and the birth.
They had thought there was no risk in taking
Jesus with them, but now their hearts are full
of dark forebodings; some one may have
known, may have told; some secret design
may still have been cherished. Where was
their child, and what had happened unto
him?
You may imagine what a night of sleepless
anxiety followed their discovery at the first




CHRIST AMONG THE DOCTORS.    119
nightly resting-place of the caravan. Mid-day
saw them back in the city. It is said to have
been after three days' search they found him j
if we count the day of their return as one of
these three, there would still be one entire
day's fruitless search. There may have been
two such days, —days of eager inquiry every..
where throughout the city, in the house where
they had lived, among all those with whom
they had had any converse or connexion. At
last they find the lost one, not in the courts of
the Temple, not in any of those parts of the
edifice consecrated to public worship, but in
one of those apartments in the outer buildings
used as a school of the Rabbis. Among the
Jews at this period, each synagogue had a
schoolroom attached to it, in which the rudiments of an ordinary education were taught.
Besides, however, these schools for primary instruction, wherever there were ten men in a
position to devote their whole time to this purpose, a room was built for them, in which they
carried on their pupils in all the higher walks
of the sacred learning of the Jews. These
constituted the schools of the Rabbis, and
formed an important instrument in the support
and extension of that system of Rabbinism




120    THE THIRTY YEARS AT NAZARETH.
which, as Milman tells us, " became, after the
ruin of the Temple, and the extinction of the
public worship, a new bond of national union,
and the great distinctive feature in the character of modern Judaism." There were three
apartments employed in this way attached to
the Temple. It was in one of these that Joseph and Mary found their son. He was sitting in the ordinary attitude, and engaged in
the ordinary exercises of a pupil in the middle
of the doctors, hearing them and asking them
questions,-the Jewish method of education
being chiefly catechetical,-the pupil himself
sometimes answering the questions put, and
astonishing his hearers with his wisdom. When
this strange, rude-looking, bright-looking, solemn-looking Galilean boy first came in among
them, was it the wisdom he then showed which
drew the hearts of some of these Rabbis to
him, and led them, as if anxious to gain a
scholar who might turn out to be the chief
ornament of their school, to take him in and
treat him tenderly? Was it with them, in the
room they occupied in the outer Temple buildings, that the two nights in which Jesus was
separated from his parents were spent? The
tie, whatever it was, between him and them, is




CHRIST AMONG THE DOCTORS.     121
now destined to be broken, never to be renewed.
Joseph and Mary find him in fhe midst of
them. Joseph is too much astonished to say
anything, nor is it likely that Mary spoke till
he had gone with her apart; but now her
burdened mother's heart finds utterance.
"Son," she says to him, " why hast thou thus
dealt with us?" words of reproach that were
new to Mary's lips. Never before had she to
chide that child. Never before had he done
anything to require such chiding. But now,
when it appears that no accident had happened,
no restraint had been exercised, that it had
been of his own free will that Jesus had parted
from his parents, and was sitting so absorbed
by other persons and with other things, she
cannot account for such conduct on his part
It looks like neglect, and worse; like indifference to the pain which he must have known
this separation would cost them. " Son," she
says, " why hast thou thus dealt with us? Behold, thy father and I have sought thee sorrowing."
Innocently, artlessly, childishly, in words
which, though not meant to meet the reproach
with a rebuke, yet carried with them much of




122    THE TaRTY YEARS AT NAZARETH.
the meaning and effect of the words spoken
afterwards at the marriage-feast at Cana, Jesus answers, " How is it that ye sought me? "' could you, Mary, believe that I would act under other than heavenly guidance; could you
allow the idea of my being liable to any risk
or danger simply because I was not under
your eye and care; do you not know, were
you not told whose Son I truly am; and should
not that knowledge have kept you from seeking and sorrowing as you have done: wist ye
not, that wherever I was I must have been
still beneath that Father's eye and care,whatever I was about, I must have been about
that Father's business? Mary, you have called
me Son, and I acknowledge the relationship;
you have called Joseph my father; that re —
lationship I disown; my own, my only Father
is He in whose house you have now found me,
whose will I came on earth to do; about
whose matters I must constantly, and shall
now henceforth and forever be engaged.'
It is in this consciousness of his peculiar relationship to God, now for the first time, perhaps, fully realized, that we catch the true
meaning, and can discern something of the purpose of this early, only recorded incident in




CEnIST AMONG THE DOCTORS.     123
the history of our Lord's youth. Mary, we
are told, understood not the answer of her son
WTith the knowledge that she possessed, we can
scarcely imagine that she had any difficulty in
at once perceiving that Jesus spake of his
Father in heaven, and comprehending in so far
at least the meaning of his words. But there
may have been a special reason for Mary's
surprise here-the difficulty she felt of comprehension and belief. It cannot readily be
imagined that she had herself told her child
during the first twelve years of his life, or that
any one else had told him, of the mystery of
his birth. From the first dawning of conscious
intelligence, he must have been taught' to call
Joseph father, nor had it outwardly been communicated to him that he was only his reputed
father, that he had no earthly parent, that his
true and only father was God. If that were
the actual state of the connexion between
Mary and Jesus up to the time of this incident
in the Temple; if she had never breathed to
himn the great secret that he was none other
than the Son of the Highest; if there had
been nothing as she knew there was not, in the
quiet tenor of the life which for twelve years
Jesus lived, to afford any outward indication




124    THE THIRTY YEARS AT NAZARETH.
or evidence, either to himself or others of the
nature of his Sonship to God-then how surprised must Mary have been when in the Temple, and by that answer to her question, Jesus
informed her that he knew all, knew whence
he was, knew for what he came, knew that
God was his Father in such a sense that the
discharge of his business carried with it an
obligation which, if the time and the season
required, overbore all obligation to real or
reputed earthly parents.
But whether it came upon Mary by surprise
or not, was there no object in letting us and
all believers in the Saviour know, as the record
of this incident does, that Jesus was thus early
and fully alive to the singularity of his relationship to God? Conceive that it had been
otherwise; that these thirty years had been
veiled in an impenetrable obscurity; that not
one single glimpse had been given of how they
passed away; that our first sight of the man
Christ Jesus had been when he stood before
John to be baptized in the waters of the Jordan, and to receive the Holy Ghost descending
upon him. How natural in that case had been
the impression that it was then for the first
time, when the voice from heaven declared it,




CHART AMONG THE DOCTORs.      125
that he knew himself to be the Son of God:
that it was then, when the Spirit first descended, that the Divine associated itself in
close and ineffable union with the human.
Then had those thirty years appeared in a
quite different light to us; then had we conceived of him as living throughout their course
the simple common life of a Galilean villager
and craftsman. But now we know, and we
have to thank this narrative of St. Luke for
the information, that if not earlier, yet certainly at his twelfth year, the knowledge that he
and the Father were one, that the Father was
in him, and that he was in the Father, had visited and filled his spirit, had animated and regulated his life. With what a new sacredness
and dignity do the eighteen years that intervened between this incident and that of his
public manifestation to Israel become invested,
and what new lessons of instruction do they
bring us! At the bidding of a new impulse,
excited within his youthful breast by this first
visit to the Temple, he breaks for a day or two
all earthly bonds, and seems lost amid the shadows of the Sanctuary, absorbed with the higher
things of Him who was worshipped there. But
at the call of duty his hour for public service




126    THE THIRTY YEARS AT NAZARETH.
for speaking, acting, suffering, dying, before all
and for all, and not yet come, he yields at once
to the desire of Joseph and Mary, and returns
with them to Nazareth; becoming subject to
them, burying, as it were, this great secret in
his breast; consenting to wait, submitting to
all the restraints of an ordinary household,
putting himself once more under the yoke of
parental authority, taking upon him  all the
common obligations of son, a brother, a neighbor, a friend, a Galilean villager, a Jewish citizen; discharging all without a taint of sin;
travelling not an inch beyond the routine of
service expected in these relationships; doing
absolutely nothing to betray the divinity that
lay within, nothing to distinguish himself above
others, or to proclaim his heavenly birth; living so naturally, unostentatiously, undemonstratively, that neither did his brethren the inmates of his home, his own nearest relatives,
believe in him, discerning not in all those years
any marks of his divine prophetic character;
his name so little known in the immediate
neighborhood that Nathanael, who lived in
Cana, a few miles off, had never heard of him,
and was quite unprepared to believe Philip,
when he told him, that in one Jesus of Naz



CHRIST AONG THE DOCTORS.       127
areth he had found him of whom Moses in the
law, and the prophets did write.
From the bosom of that thick darkness
which covers the first thirty years of our Lord's
earthly life, there thus shines forth the light
which irradiates the whole period, and sheds
over it a lustre brighter than ever graced the
life of any other of the children of men. You
may have wondered at this one event of his
childhood being redeemed from oblivion, so
insignificant does it seem, and at first sight so
little correspondent with our preconceived conceptions of the great Messiah's character and
work. Looking at Jesus as nothing more than
the son of Joseph and Mary, there might be
some difficulty in explaining his desertion of
them at Jerusalem. But when you reflect on
his self-recognition at this time as the Son of
God; on his declaration of it to Mary; on his
thenceforth acting on it in life; on his words
in the Temple, followed by eighteen years of
self-denial, and gentle, cheerful, prompt obedience; on his growing consciousness of his divine lineage, and his earthly work and heavenly heritage; on the evils he came on earth
to expose and remedy; on the selfishness, the
worldliness; the formalism, the hypocrisy, he




128    TmHE THIRTY YEARS AT NAZARETH.
detected all around him  at Nazareth-when
you reflect further on his divine reticence, on
his sublime and patient self-restraint, on his
refr'aining from all interference in publie matters, and all exposure to public notice, on his
devoting himself instead to the tasks of daily
duty in a very humble sphere of life; when
you reflect fixedly and thoughtfully on these
things, do you not feel that there rests on this
portion of the life of Jesus, and upon its introductory and explanatory incident, an interest
different indeed in kind, yet in full and perfect
harmony with that belonging to the period
when he stood forth as the Saviour of the
world? If he came to empty himself of that
glory which he had with the Father before the
world was, to take upon him the form of a servant, to seek not his own glory, to do not his
own will, not to be ministered unto but to minister, then assuredly it was not only during the
three years of his public ministry, but during
all the three-and-thirty years of his life on
earth, that the ends of his mission were accomplished.
We think, I apprehend, too little of these
quiet domestic years of secluded, unpretending
piety at Nazareth. Our eyes are dazzled by




CBRIST AMONG THE DOCTOtB.      129
the outward glory which surrounded his path
when he burst at last from his long concealment, and showed himself as the Son of the
Highest; and yet there is a sense in which we
should have more interest in the earlier than
in the later period of his life. It is liker the
life we have ourselves to lead. The Jesus of
Nazareth is more of a pattern to us than the
Jesus of Gethsemane and the Cross. He was
not less the Son of God in the one case than in
the other; not less in the one character than
in the other has he left us an example that we
should follow his steps. It was thus the great
lesson of his life at Nazareth, as interpreted by
his sayings in the Temple, that we should be
doing our Father's business in the countinghouse, in the workshop, at the desk, as much
as in any of the higher or more public walks
of Christian or philanthropic effort; that a life
confined and devoted to the faithful execution
of the simple, humble offices of daily domestic
duty, if it be a life of faith and love, may be
one as full of God, as truly divine and holy, as
Christ-like and as honoring to Christ, as a life
devoted to the most important public services
that can be rendered to the Church on earth.
In the quiet and deep-lying valleys of life, all




130    TiEE THIRTY YEAAS AT NAZARETH.
hidden from human eye, who may tell us how
many there are who, built up in a humble trust
in Jesus, and animated by their hope in him,
are performing cheerfully their daily tasks because a Father's wisdom has allotted them, and
bearing patiently their daily burdens because
they have been imposed by a Father's love?
Content to live and labor, and endure and die,
unnoticed and unknown, earthly fame hanging
no wreath upon their tomb, earthly eloquence
dumb over their dust, these are they, the last
among men, who shall be among the first in
the kingdom of the just.




VIL.
THE FORERUNNER.*
IHE same angel who announced to Mary at
Nazareth the birth of Jesus, had six months
previously announced the birth of John to the
aged priest Zacharias, as he ministered before
the altar, within the Temple at Jerusalem.
Zacharias was informed that his wife Elizabeth
should have a son, whose name was to be John,
who was to be " great in the sight of the Lord,"
going before him " in the spirit and power of
Elias, to make ready a people prepared for the
Lord." Zacharias doubted what the angel
said. At once as a punishment of his incredulity, and as a new token of the truth of the
angelic message, he was struck with a temporary  dumbness. When  he came forth he
could not tell his brother priests or the assembled people anything about what he had seen
* Luke i. 1-18; Mhatt. iii. 1-12; Mark i. 1-8.




132          THE FoRERUNNER.
or heard within. From the signs he made,
and the strange awe-struck expression of his
countenance, they fancied he had seen a vision;
but it is not likely that he took any means of
correcting whatever false ideas they entertained.
His one wish, was to get home and reveal the
secret to his wife Elizabeth. His days of ministration lasted but a week, and as soon as
they were over, he hastened to his residence in
the hill country of Judea. In due time what
Gabriel had foretold took place. The child
was born. The eighth day, the day for its
circumcision, and the bestowing of its name
arrived. A large circle of relatives assembled.
They proposed that the child should be called
Zacharias, after his father. Foreseeing that
some such proposal might be made, Zacharias
had provided against any other name than
that assigned by the angel being given to his
son. Acting upon his instructions, Elizabeth
interposed, and declared that the child's name
should be John. The relatives remonstrated.
None of her kindred, they reminded her, had
ever borne that name. The dumb father was
now by signs appealed to. He called for a
writing-table, and wrote the few decisive
words, "His name is John." They were all




TmE FORERUNNER.          133
wondering at the prompt and peremptory settlement of this question, when another and
greater ground of wonder was supplied: the
tongue of the dumb was loosed, and, in rapt,
rhythmical, prophetic strains that remind us
forcibly of those in which, three months before,
and in the same dwelling, Mary and Elizabeth
had exchanged their greetings, he poured out
fervent thanks to God for having visited and
redeemed his people, and foretold the high
office which his own new-born son was to execute as Forerunner of the Messiah.
With that scene of the circumcision day the
curtain drops upon the household of Zacharias
and Elizabeth, nor is it lifted till many years
are gone, and then it is the child only, now
grown to manhood, who appears. His parents
had been well stricken in years at the date of
his birth, and as no mention of them is made
afterwards, we may presume that like Joseph
they were dead before anything remarkable in
the life of their son had happened. Little as
we know of the first thirty years of the life of
Jesus, we know still less of the like period in
the life of John. All that we are told is that
till the time of his showing unto Israel he was
in the desert, in those wild and lonely regions




134          THE FORERUNNEB.
which lay near his birthplace, skirting the
northwestern shores of the Dead Sea. True
to the angelic designation, accepting the vow
that marked him as a Nazarite from his birth,
John separated himself early from home and
kindred, retired from the haunts of men,
buried himself in the rocky solitudes of the
wilderness, letting his hair grow till it fell loose
and dishevelled over his shoulders, denying
himself to all ordinary indulgences, whether of
food or dress, clothing himself with the roughest kind of garment he could get, a robe of
hair-cloth, bound around him with a leathern
girdle, satisfying himself by feeding on the locusts and wild honey of the desert. But it
was not in a morose or ascetic spirit that he
did so. He had not fled to those solitudes in
chagrin, to nurse upon the lap of indolence
regrets over bygone disappointments; nor had
he sought there to shroud his spirit in a religious gloom deep as that of Engedi and Adullam, which may have been among his haunts.
His whole appearance and bearing, words and
actions, when at last he stood forth before the
people, satisfy us that there was little in him
of the mystic, the misanthrope, or the monk.
Though dwelling apart from others, avoiding




THE FORERUNNER.          135
observation, and shunning promiscuous intercourse, he was not wasting those years in idleness, heedless of the task for the performance
of which the life he led was intended, as we
presume he must have been informed by his
parents, to prepare him to execute. Through
the loop-holes of retreat we can well imagine
the Baptist as busily scanning the state of that
community upon which he was to act. When
he stepped forth from his retirement, and men
of all kinds and classes gathered round him, he
did not need any one to tell him who the Pharisees, or the Sadducees, or the publicans were,
or what were their peculiar and distinctive
faults. He appears from the first to have been
well informed as to the state of things outside
the desert. It may, in truth, in no small
measure have served to fit him for his peculiar
work that-removed from all the influences
which must have served, had he lived among
them, to blunt his sense of surrounding evils,
and to mould his character and habits according to the prevailing forms and fashions of
Jewish life-he was carried by the Spirit into
the desert to be trained and educated there,
thence, as from a watch-tower, to look dowr
upon those strange sights which his country




136          THE FORERUNNER.
was presenting, undistractedly to watch, profoundly to muse and meditate, the fervor of
a true prophet of the Lord kindling and glowing into an intenser fire of holy zeal; till at
last, when the hour for action came, he launched
forth upon his brief earthly work, with a swift
impetuosity like the rush of those short-lived
cataracts, yet with a firmness of unbending
will and purpose, like the stability of those
rocky heights among which for thirty years
he had been living.
But what had those thirty years in the current of Jewish history presented? At their
beginning those intestine wars which previously had somewhat weakened the Roman power,
had closed in the peaceful establishment of the
Empire under Augustus Caesar. The dangers
to Jewish liberty grew all the greater, and the
impatience of the people under the Roman
yoke became the more intense; the extreme
patriot party, who were in favor with the people generally, became fanatic in their zeal.
After the death of Herod the Great, while yet
it remained uncertain whether Augustus would
recognize the accession of Archelaus to the
throne, an insurrection broke out in Jerusalem,
which was only quelled by the slaughter of




THE FORERUNNER.          137
three thousand of the insurgents, and by the illomened stoppage of the great Passover festival.
Augustus, unwilling to lay any heavier yoke
on those who were already fretting beneath
the one they bore, confirmed the will of Herod
by which he divided his kingdom among his
sons, suffered the Jews still to have nominally
a government of their own, and recognized
Archelaus as king over Judea and Samaria.
His reign was a short and troubled one, and
at its close Judea and Samaria were attached
to Syria, made part of a Roman province, and
had procurators or governors from Rome set
over them, of whom the sixth in order was
Pontius Pilate, who entered upon his office
about the very time when the Baptist began
his ministry. The lingering shadows of royal,
ty and independence were thus removed. Not
content with removing them, the usurper intermeddled with the ecclesiastical as well as
the civil government of Judea. In the Mosaic
Institute, the High Priest, the most important
public functionary of the Jews, attained his
office hereditarily, and held it for life. The
Emperor now claimed and exercised the right
of investiture, and appointed and deposed as
he pleased. During the period between the




138          THE FORERUNNER.
death of Herod and the destruction of Jerusa.
lem, we read of twenty-eight High Priests
holding the office in succession, only one of
whom retained it till his death. This dependence on Rome, not only for the appointment
but for continuance in it, necessarily generated
great servility on the part of aspirants to the
office, and great abuses in the manner in which
its duties were discharged. A supple, sagacious,
venal man, like Annas, though not able to establish himself permanently in the chair, was able
to secure it in turn for five of his sons, for his
son-in-law Caiaphas, with whom he was associated at the time of the crucifixion, and afterwards for his grandson. Such a state of things
among the governing authorities fomented the
popular animosity to the foreign rule. The
whole country was in a ferment. Popular
outbreaks were constantly occurring. The
public mind was in such an inflammable condition that any adventurer daring enough, and
strong enough to raise the standard of revolt,
was followed by multitudes. Among these
insurrectionary chiefs, some of whom were of
the lowest condition and the most worthless
character, Judas of Galilee distinguished himself by his open proclamation of the principle




THE FoREnRUNNE.          139
that it was not lawful to pay tribute to Caesar,
and his political creed was adopted by thousands who had not the courage, as he had, to
pay the penalty of their lives in acting it out.
It can easily be imagined what a fresh hold
their faith and hopes as to the foretold Messiah
would take upon the hearts of a people thus
galled and fretted to the uttermost by political
discontent. The higher views of his character
would naturally be swallowed up and lost in
the conception of him as the great deliverer
who was to break those hated bonds which
bound them, restore the old Theocracy, and
make Jerusalem, not Rome, the seat and centre of a universal monarchy.
Such was the state of public affairs and of
the public feeling when a voice loud  and
thrilling like the voice of a trumpet, issues
from the desert, saying, "Repent ye, for the
kingdom of heaven is at hand." Crowds come
forth to listen; they look at the strange man,
true son of the desert, from whose lips this
voice cometh. He has all the aspect, he wears
the dress, of one of their old prophets. They
ask about him; he is of the priestly order.
Some old men begin now to remember aboui
his father in the Temple, and the strange " say



140          THE FoREiuuNux.
ings that were noised abroad through all the
hill country of Judea" soon after his birth.
They listen to his words; it is true he does
not directly claim divine authority; the old
prophetic formula,'" Thus saith the Lord," he
does not employ; he points to no sign, he
works no miracle; he trusts to the simple
power of the summons he makes, the prophecy
he utters; yet there is something in the very
manner of his utterance so prophet-like, that
a prophet they cannot help believing him to
be. There is nothing particularly ingratiating
in his call to repent, but the announcement
that the kingdom of heaven is at the door, and
that they must all at once arise and prepare for
it, meets the deepest, warmest, wishes of their
hearts. It is at hand at last, this strange man
says-the kingdom for which they have so
rong been waiting; and shall they not go forth
so welcome its approach, and rejoice- in its tri*imphs? The spell of the Baptist's preaching,
rn whatever it lay, was one that operated with, speed and a power, and to an extent of which
we have the parallel only in times of the greatest excitement, like those of the Crusades, or
of the Reformation.  "Then went out to him,"
we are told, " all Judea, and they of Jerusa



THm  FOiRmEUmn           141
lem, and all the region round about Jordan,
and were baptized of him in Jordan, confessing
their sins." It would seem as if with one consent the entire population of the southern part
of Palestine had gathered around the Baptist,
and for the time were pliant in his hands. It
may have facilitated their assemblage, if, as has
been conjectured, it was a Sabbatic year when
John began his work, and the people, set free
from their ordinary labors, were ready to follow him, as he led them to the banks of the
Jordan to be baptized.
This baptism in the river was so marked a
feature in the ministry of John, that it gave
him his distinctive title, The Baptist. It was a
new and peculiar rite; of Divine appointment,
as appears not only from the question which
our Lord put to the Jewish rulers, " The baptism of John, was it from heaven, or of men?"
but also from the declaration of John himself,
" He that sent me to baptize with water." It
may have been suggested by, as it was in some
respects similar to, the various ablutions or
washings with water prescribed in the Mosaic
ritual; yet from all of these baptisms, if baptisms they could be called, it differed in many
respects. They were all intended simply as




142          TmHE FOREuNNE.
instruments of purification from ceremonial defilement; it had another character and object.
With a few exceptional cases, they were all
performed by the person's own hands, who
went through the process of purification; it
was performed by another, by the hands of
John himself, or some of his disciples. They
were repeated as often as the defilement was
renewed; it was administered only once.
There was indeed one Jewish custom which, if
then in use, presents a clear analogy to the
baptism of John. When proselytes from heathenism were admitted into the pale of the
Jewish commonwealth, after circumcision they
were baptized.  "They bring the proselyte,"
says an old Jewish authority,* "to baptism,
and being placed in the water, they again instruct him in some weightier and in some
lighter commands of the law, which being
heard, he plunges himself and comes up, and
behold he is an Israelite in all things." It
would look as if the baptism of John was borrowed from this proselyte baptism of the Jews;
but though it were, it will at once appear tc
you that the former rite had marked pecu*Maimonides.




TmE FOREUNNER.           143
liarities of its own. And as it stood thus distinguished from all Jewish, so also did it stand
distinguished from the Christian rite ordained
by our Lord himself, which involved a fuller
faith, symbolized a higher privilege, and was
always administered in the name of Christ.
The one rite might be regarded indeed as running into and being superseded by the other,
but of the great difference between them we
have proof in the fact that those who had received the baptism of John were nevertheless
re-baptized on their admission into the Christian Church.* John's baptism, like everything about his ministry, was imperfect, preparatory, temporary, and transient, involving
simply a confession of unworthiness, and a
faith in one to come, through whom the remission of sins was to be conveyed.
The people who flocked around John readily
submitted to his baptism, whether regarding it
as altogether new, or the modified form of some
of their own old observances. The accompaniment of his teaching with the administration ot
such an ordinance may have helped to reconcile the Pharisees, who were such lovers of the
* See Acts xix.




144          THE FoRUNNmB.
ritualistic, to a preaching which had little in it.
self to recommend it to them, as the absence
on the other hand of all doctrinal instruction,
all references to the unseen world, to angels
and spirits, and the resurrection, may have
helped to conciliate the prejudices of the Sadducees. At any rate, we learn that, borne
along with the flowing tide, Pharisees and Sadducees did actually present themselves before
John to claim baptism at his hands. His quick,
keen, spiritual insight at once detected the
veiled deceit that lay in their doing so, and in
the very spirit which his great Master afterwards displayed, he proceeded to denounce
their hypocrisy, giving them indeed the very
title which Jesus bestowed on them. John's
whole ministry, his teaching and baptizing, if
it meant anything, meant this, that without an
inward spiritual change, without penitence,
without reformation, no Israelite was prepared
to enter into that kingdom whose advent he
announced. His preaching was the preaching
of repentance, his baptism the baptism of repentance; the one great lesson the whole involved, was that all Israel had become spiritually unfit for welcoming the Messiah, and
sharing the blessings of his reign. But here




TmE FORERUNNER.          145
were some, the Pharisees and Sadducees who
now stood before him, of whom he knew, that
so far from their entertaining the least idea
that they required to go through any such
process, regarded themselves as pre-eminently
the very ones to whom, from their position in
Israel, this kingdom was at once to bring its
blessings. Penetrating their secret thoughts,
the Baptist said to them, "Think not to say
within yourselves, We have Abraham to our
father," and therefore are, simply as his descendants, entitled to all the benefits of that
kingdom which is to be set up in Judea; " I
say unto you, that God is able of these stones
to raise up children unto Abraham; "-a dim,
yet not uncertain pre-intimation of the spiritual character and wide extension of the new
kingdom of God; the possibility even of the
outcast and down-trodden Gentile being admitted into it.
John's bold and honest treatment of the
Pharisees and Sadducees only made him look
the more prophet-like in the eyes of the common people. It encouraged them to ask, What
shall we do then? In a form of precept like
to that which Christ frequently employed,
John said to them, " He that hath two coats,




146          THE FORERUNNER.
let him impart to him that hath none. He
that hath meat, let him do likewise." There
is no better sign morally of a community than
when such kindly links of brotherly sympathy
so bind together all classes, as that those who
have are ever ready to help those who want;
as, on the other hand, there is no clearer proof
of a community morally disorganized than the
absence of this benevolent disposition. Judea
was at this time, both as to its religious and
political condition, thoroughly disorganized,
and in inculcating in this direct and emphatic
way, the great duty of a universal charity,
John was at once laying bare one of the sorest
of existing evils, and pointing to the method of
its cure.
Then came to him the Publicans also, those
Jews who fQr gain's sake had farmed the taxes
imposed by the Romans; a class odious and
despised, looked upon by their countrymen
generally as traitors, who, by extortion, drew
large profits out of the national degradation.
They, too, get the answer exactly suited to
them: " Exact no more than what is appointed
to you." Then came to him soldiers, Jews we
may believe who had enlisted under the Roman standard, and who, not satisfied with the,




TmE FORERUNNEB.          147
soldier's common pay, abused their power as
the military police of the country, and by force,
or threat of accusation before the higher authorities, sought to improve their condition.
They, too, get the answer suited to their case:
"Do violence to no man: neither accuse any
falsely, and be content with your wages."
These are but a few stray specimens of the
manner in which the Baptist dealt with those
who came to him: one quite new, yet so much
needed. What power must have been exerted
over a people so long accustomed to the inculcation of a mere ceremonial pietism, by this
thoroughly intrepid, downright, plain, practical,
unaccommodating and uncompromising kind
of teaching! The great secret of its success
lay here, that unsupported by any confirming
signs from heaven,-in a certain sense not
needing them,-he inculcated the duties of
justice, truthfulness, forbearance, charity, by a
direct appeal to the simple, naked sense of
right and wrong that dwells in every human
bosom. And the world has seldom seen a
more striking proof of the power of conscience,
and of the response which, when taken suddenly, and before it has time to get warped
and biased, conscience will give to all direct,




1{8          THE FORERUNNER
sincere, and vigorous addresses to it, than
when those multitudes from Judea and Jerusalem, and all the land, gathered round the
Baptist on the banks of the Jordan.
What an animating spectacle must these
banks have then exhibited; a spectacle which
has ever since been annually renewed by the
resort of thousands of pilgrims thither. Our
last and best describer of Palestine* brings it
thus before our eyes: "No common spring or
tank would meet the necessities of the multitudes. The Jordan now seemed to have met
with its fit purpose. It was the one river of
Palestine sacred in its recollections, abundant
in its waters; and yet at the same time the
river not of cities but of the wilderness, the
scene of the preaching of those who dwelt not
in kings' palaces, nor wore soft clothing. On
the banks of the rushing stream the multitudes
gathered;-the priests and scribes from Jerusalem, down the pass of Adummim; the publicans from Jericho on the south, and the Lake
of Gennesareth on the north; the soldiers on
their way from Damascus to Petra, through
the Ghor, in the war with the Arab chief Ha* Stanley.




THE FonRuRnmi.           149
reth; the peasants from Galilee, with One
from Nazareth, through the opening of the
plain of Esdraelon. The tall reeds or canes in
the jungle waved, shaken by the wind; the
pebbles of the bare clay hills lay around, to
which the Baptist pointed as capable of being
transformed into the children of Abraham; at
their feet rushed the refreshing stream of the
never-failing river."
This description, indeed, applies to a period
in the narrative a little further on than the one
which is now immediately before us. The
"One from Nazareth" may have left his village home, and been already on the way, but
as yet he was buried in obscurity, deep hidden
among the people. All the people were musing in their hearts whether John were not
himself the Christ. He knew  what was in
their hearts; he knew how ready they were
to hail him as their promised deliverer. No
man of his degree has ever had a fairer opportunity of lifting himself to high repute upon
the shoulders of an acclaiming multitude. Did
the tempting thought for a moment flit across
his mind that he should seize upon the occasion so presented? If it did, he was in haste
to expel the intruder, and prevent the multi.




150          THE FORERUNNER.
tude by at once proclaiming that he was not
the great prophet they were ready to believe
he was; that another was at hand much
greater than he, to. whom he was not worthy to
discharge the lowest and most menial office of a
slave, the carrying of his sandal, the unloosing
of his shoe-latchet. He, John, baptized with
water unto repentance, an incomplete and altogether preparatory affair, but the greater than
he would baptize with the Holy Ghost and with
fire.
Such was the prompt and decisive manner
in which he disowned all high pretensions.
And when, shortly afterwards, posterior to our
Lord's baptism, of which they may have heard
nothing, a deputation from Jerusalem came
down to ask him, Who art thou? he met the
question with the emphatic negative, I am not
the Christ. Art thou Elias then? they said.
John knew that the men who put this query
to him were caring only about his person, and
careless about his office,-in the true spirit of
all religious formalists, wanting so much to
know who the teacher was, and but little heeding what his teaching meant; he knew that
their idea was that the heavens were to give
back Elijah to the earth, and that he was to




TmE FOERUNNER.          151
appear in person to announce and anoint the
Messiah, and that many of them believed that
besides Elias another of the old prophets was
to arise from the dead, to dignify by his presence the great era of the Messiah's inauguration. Answering their questions according to
the meaning of the questioners when they said,
Art thou Elias? he said, I am not; when they
asked him, Art thou that prophet? he answered,
No. And when still further they inquired,
Who art thou then, that we may give an answer to them that sent us? he said, that he
was but a voice and nothing more, " the voice
of one crying in the wilderness, Make straight
the way of the Lord, as said the prophet
Esaias." Pressing him still further by the interrogation, why it was that he baptized if he
were neither Christ, nor Elias, nor that prophet;
he speaks again of his own baptism as if it
were too insignificant a matter for any question
about his right to administer it being raised or
answered, and of the greater than he already
revealed to him by the sign from heaven: "I
baptize with water, but'there standeth one
among you whom ye know not. He it is who
coming after me is preferred before me, whose
shoe-latchet I am not worthy to unloose."




152          THE FOBERmmiER.
It is this prompt acknowledgment of his own
infinite inferiority to Christ, his thorough appreciation of the relative position in which he
stood to Jesus, the readiness with which he
undertook the honorable but humble task of
being but his herald, the unimpeachable fidelity
and unfaltering steadiness with which he fulfilled the special course marked out for him by
God, and above all the entire and apparently
unconscious self-abnegation which in doing so
he displayed, that shine forth as the prominent
features in the personal character of the Baptist.
To these, particularly to the last, we shall
have occasion hereafter to allude. Meanwhile,
let us dwell a moment on the place and office
which the ministry of John occupied midway
between the old and the new economy. " The
law and the prophets were until John." In
him and with him they expired. He was a
prophet, the only one among them all whose
coming and whose office were themselves of
old the subject of prophecy, honored above
them all by the nearness of his standing to Jesus, by his being the friend of the Bridegroom,
to whom it was given to hear the Bridegroom's
living voice. But he was more than a prophet.




THE FouERSu.             153
Of the greatest of his predecessors, of Moses,
of Elijah, of Daniel, it was true that they filled
but a limited space in the great dispensation
with which they were connected; their days
but an handbreadth in the broad cycle of
events with which their lives and labors were
wrapped up, the individuality of each, if not
lost among, yet linked with that of a multitude
of compeers. But John presents himself alone.
The prophet of the desert, the forerunner of
the Lord, appears without a coadjutor, a whole
distinct economy in himself. To announce
Christ's advent, to break up the way before
him, to make ready a people prepared for the
Lord, this was the specific object of that economy which began and ended in John's ministry.
The kind, and amount of the service which
the Baptist thus rendered, as well as the need
of it, it is difficult for us now thoroughly to
understand and appreciate. In what respect
Christ would have been placed at a disadvantage had not John preceded him; in what respects the Baptist did open up the way before
the Lord; in what respects John's ministry
told upon the condition of the Jewish people,
morally and spiritually, so as to make it different from what it otherwise would have been —




154          THE FORERUNNER
so as to make the soil all the better prepared
to receive the seed which the hand of the
Divine sower scattered-it is not very easy for
us to estimate. One thing is clear enough,
that it was John's hand which struck the first
bold stroke at the root of the strong national
prejudice which narrowed and carnalized the
expected kingdom of their Messiah. It is
quite possible, that, as to the true nature and
extent of the coming kingdom, John may have
been as much in the dark as the twelve apostles were till the day of Pentecost. One thing,
however, was revealed to him in clearest light,
and it was upon his knowledge of this that he
spoke with such authority and power, that
whatever the future kingdom was to be, it
should be one in which force and fraud, and
selfishness and insincerity, and all sham piety,
were to be denied a place; for which those
would stand best prepared who were readiest
to confess and give up their sins, and to act
justly and benevolently towards their fellowmen, humbly and sincerely towards their God.
You have but the rudiments, indeed, of the
true doctrine of repentance in the teaching of
the Baptist-the  Christian doctrine but in
germ; but it is not difficult to see in it the




TiE FORERUN              155
same great lesson broached as to the inner
and spiritual qualifications required of all the
members of the kingdom of Christ, which was
afterwards, with so much greater depth and
fullness, unfolded privately to Nicodemus at
the very beginning of our Lord's ministry in
Judea, when he said to him: " Except a man
be born again, he cannot see, he cannot enter
into the kingdom of God;" and publicly to
the multitudes on the hill-side of Galilee, when
the Lord said to them; " Blessed are the poor
in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven."
It would be quite wrong, it would indicate
an ignorance of the peculiar service which the
Baptist was called upon to render, were we to
imagine that there must be a preparatory process of repentance and reformation gone
through by each of us before we believe in
Jesus, and by faith enter the kingdom. Our
position is so different from that occupied by
the multitude to whom John preached, that
what was most suitable for them is not so
suitable for us.
And yet not without some broad and general lessons for the Church, at all times and in
all ages, was it ordered so that the gentle
preacher of peace should be preceded by the




156          THEm FORERUNNER.
stern  preacher of repentance; that Johu
should be seen in the desert in advance of
Jesus-in his appearance, his haunts, his habit, his words, his ordinance, proclaiming, and
symbolizing the duty and discipline of penitence. It was only thus, by the ministry of
the one running into the ministry of the other,
that the Christian life, in its acts of penitence,
as well as in its acts of faith and love, could
stand before us in vivid relief, embodied in a
full-orbed and personal portraiture. Jesus had
no sin of his own to mourn over, no evil dispositions to subdue, no evil habits to relinquish. In the person, character, and life of
Jesus, the great and needful duty of mortifying the body of sin and death could receive no
visible illustration. He could supply to us no
model or exemplar here. Was it not then
wisely ordered that moving before, and for a
time beside him, there should be seen that
severer figure of the Baptist, as if to tell us
that the proud spirit that is in us must be
bowed, and the mountain-heights of pride in
us be laid low, and the crooked things be
made straight, and the rough places plain, to
make way for the coming in of the Prince of
Peace, and the setting up of his kingdom in




TmE FORERiuNER            157
our hearts; that we must go with the Baptist
into the solitudes of the desert, as well as with
the Saviour into the happy homes and villages
of Galilee? Would you see, in its full, finished, and perfect form, the character and
course of conduct, which, as followers of the
Crucified, we are to aim at and to realize, go
study it in the life of Jesus. But would you
see it in its formation as well as in its finish, go
study it in the life of the Baptist; put the two
together, John and Jesus, and the portraiture
is complete.




VIII.
THE BAPTISM.*
W    E have no definite information as to the
date of the commencement of John's
ministry, or his own age at that time. As we
know, however, that he was six months older
than Jesus, as we are told that Jesus was
about thirty years of age when he began his
public ministry, and as that was the age fixed
in the Jewish law for the priests entering on
the duties of their office, it seems reasonable
to conclude that the ministry of John had already lasted for six months when Jesus presented himself before the Baptist on the banks
of the Jordan. This.would allow full time for
intelligence of a movement which so rapidly
pervaded the entire population of the southern
districts of the country, penetrating Galilee,
Matt. iii. 13-17; Mark i. 9-11; Luke iii. 21-23; John i. 30-33.




Tim BAPTISM.           159
and reaching even to Nazareth. Moved by
this intelligence, other Galileans of that district
as well as Jesus may have followed the wake
of the multitude, and directed their steps to the
place where John was baptizing. In these
circumstances Christ's departure from his home
may not have created the surprise which it
otherwise would have done. When Mary saw
her son, who had hitherto so quietly and exclusively devoted himself to their discharge,
throw up all his household duties and depart:
when she learned whither it was that his footsteps were tending, and gathered, as she may
have done, from the tidings which were then
afloat, that it was none other than the son of
her relative Elizabeth who was shaking the
entire community of the south by his summons
to repent, and his proclamation of the nearness
of the kingdom, she could scarcely have let
Jesus go, for the first time that he had ever so
parted from her, without following him with
many wistful, wondering anxieties and hopes.
But she did not know that he now left that
home in Nazareth never but for a few days to
return to it. Had she known it, could she have
let him go alone? It was alone, however, and
externally undistinguished among the crowd,




160           THE BArsM.
that Jesus stood before John, and craved bap.
tism at his hands. He did this in the simplest,
least ostentatious way, allowing the great mass
of the baptisms to be over, mingling with the
people and offering himself as one of the last
to whom the rite was to be administered.  " It
camne to pass," Luke tells, that " when all the
people were baptized," Jesus was baptized also.
But his baptism did not go past as the others
did. So soon a~ John's eye fell upon this new
candidate for the ordinance, he saw in him one
altogether different in person and character
from any who had hitherto been baptized.
He felt at once as if this administration of his
baptism would be altogether out of place; that
for Jesus to be baptized by him would be to
invert the relationship in which he knew and
felt that they stood to one another. By earnest speech or expressive gesture he intimated
his unwillingness to comply with the request.
The word which St. Matthew uses in telling us
that John forbade him, is one indicative of a
very strenuous refusal on his part. This refusal he accompanied with the words: "I have
need to be baptized of thee, and comest thou
to me?"
These words, you will particularly remark,




TEm BArsM.             161
were spoken at the commencement of their interview, before the baptism of our Lord, before that sign from heaven was given of which
he had been forewarned, and for which he was
to wait before pronouncing of any individual
that he was the.greater One who was to come,
who was to baptize with the Holy Ghost and
with fire. Till he saw the Spirit descending
and remaining, John could not know certainly,
and had no warrant authoritatively to say that
this was He of whom he spake. From the
Baptist saying twice afterwards, " I knew him
not," it has been imagined that up to this
meeting John had never seen Jesus, had no
personal acquaintance with his relative the
son of Mary; and the distance at which they
lived from one another, with the entire length
of the land between them, the retired life of
the one at Nazareth, and the dwelling of the
other in the desert, have been referred to as
explaining the absence of all acquaintance and
intercourse. That there could have been but
little intercourse is clear; that they may never
have seen each other till now is possible. But
if so, how are we to explain John's meeting
the proposal of Jesus with so instant and earnest a declaration, and saying to him, I have




162            TVm BAmsMx.
need to be baptized of thee, and comest thou
to me? Jesus must either before these words
were spoken have told John who he was, and
the Baptist must have known from ordinary
sources what a sinless and holy life he had
been leading for these thirty years at Nazareth,
or this knowledge must have been supernaturally communicated; for knowledge of Jesus
to this extent at least, that he was no fit subject for a baptism which was for sinners, was
obviously implied in this address.
Is it, however, so certain, or even so probable, that John and Jesus had never met till
now? Zacharias and Elizabeth had to instruct their son as to his earthly work, his
heavenly calling, and in doing so must have
told him of the visit of Mary, and the birth of
Jesus. He must have learned from them
enough to direct his eye longingly and expectantly to his Galilean relative as no other than
the Messiah, for whose coming he was to prepare the people. True, he retired early to the
desert, which was his place of ordinary residence
till the time of his showing unto Israel, but
did that imply that he never was at Jerusalem,
never went up to the great yearly festivals?
Jesus was once, at least, in Jerusalem in his




THE BAPTIs.           163
youth, and may have been often there before
his thirtieth year. So, too, may it have been
with John, and if so, they must have met there,
and become acquainted with one another.
Much, however, as there may have been to
lead John to the belief that Jesus was he that
was to come after him, the lapse of those thirty
years, during which the two had been almost
totally separated, and the absence of all sign or
token of the Messiahship during Christ's secluded life at Nazareth, may have led him to
doubt. Even after he had received his great
commission he might continue in the same state
of uncertainty, waiting, as he had been instructed, till the sign from heaven was given.
Whatever John's inward surmises or convictions may have been, he must have felt that it
became him neither to speak of them nor to
act on them, till the promised and visible token of the Messiahship lighted on him whom
he was then to hold forth to the people as the
Lamb of God, who was to take away the sin
of the world. Such we conceive to have been
the state of John's mind and feelings towards
Jesus when he presented himself before him
for baptism. From previous acquaintance he
may instantly have recognized him as the son




164           THE BAPTISM.
of Mary, to whom his thoughts and hopes had
for so many years been pointing. He certainly
did at once recognize him as his superior, as
one at least so much holier than himself that
he shrunk from baptizing him. But he did
not certainly know him as the Christ the Son
of God; did not so know him at least as to be
entitled to point him out as such to the people.
When, some weeks afterwards, he actually did
so, he was at pains to tell those whom he addressed that it was not upon the ground of any
previous personal knowledge, or individual
connexion, that he spake of him as he did.
"I knew him not," he said; "but he that sent
me to baptize with water, the same said unto
me, Upon whom thou shalt see the Spirit descending, and remaining on him, the same is
he which baptizeth with the Holy Ghost. And
I saw, and bear record that this is the Son of
God."
We now know more of Jesus than perhaps
John did when Christ stood before him to be
baptized; we know that he was the Holy One
of God, who had no sin of his own to confess,
no pollution to wash away; and we too, like
John, may wonder that the sinless Son of God
should have submitted to such a baptism as




THxm BAPTIsM.            165
his, a baptism accompanied with the acknowledgment of sin, and the profession of repentance, and which was the symbol of the removal of the polluting stains of guilt. But our
Lord's words fall upon our ears as they did on
those of John. "Suffer it to be so now, for
thus it becometh us to fulfill all righteousness."
Firmly yet gently, authoritatively yet courteously, clothing the command in the form of
a request, he carries it over the reluctance and
remonstrance of the Baptist. " Suffer it to be
so now," for this once, so long as the present
transient earthly relationship between us subsists. Suffer it, "for so it becometh us to fulfill all righteousness." It is not then as a violator but as a fulfiller of the law that Jesus
comes to be baptized; not as one who confesses to the want of such a perfect righteousness as might be presented for acceptance to
God, but as one prepared to meet every requirement of his Father, and to render to it an
exact and complete obedience. Who could
speak thus, as if it were such an easy, as well
as such a becoming thing in him to fulfill all
righteousness, but the only begotten of the
Father, he who, in coming into this world could
say, Lo! I come to do thy will, 0 God?




166            THE BAPTIM.
And here, in subjecting himself to the baptism of John, you have the first instance of
Christ's acting in his public official character as
the Messiah. He steps forth at last from his
long retirement, his deep seclusion at Nazareth,
to appear how? to do what?-to appear as an
inferior before the Baptist, to ask a service at
his hands, to enroll himself as one of his disciples; for this was the primary purpose of this
ordinance. It was the initiatory rite by which
repentant Israelites enrolled themselves as the
hopeful expectants of the coming kingdom;
and He, the head of that kingdom, stoops to
enroll himself in this way among them. " By
one spirit," says the apostle, " we are all baptized into one body;" the outward baptism
the sign or symbol of our incorporation into
that one body the Church. In the same way
the Lord himself enters into that body, honors
the ordinance which God had sent John to
administer, conforms even to that preparatory
1,nd temporary economy through which his Infant Church was called to pass, putting himself
under the law, making himself in all things like
unto his brethren.
Still, however, the difficulty returns upon us,
as to what meaning such a rite as that of




THE BAPTISM.           167
John's baptism could have in the case of Jesus; sin he had none to confess, nor penitence
to feel, nor reformation to effect, nor a faith
in the One to come to cherish. Yet his baptism in the Jordan was not without meaning;
nay, its singular significance reveals itself as
we contemplate the sinlessness of his character.
We rightly regard the baptism of Jesus as the
first act of his public ministry: and does he
not present himself at the very outset in that
peculiar character and office which he sustains
throughout his mediatorial work, identifying
himself with his people as their representative
and their head; taking on him their sins, numbering himself with transgressors-doing now,
enduring afterwards what it became them as
sinners to do, as sinners to suffer? In himself
he was pure and undefiled, having no stain
whose removal this outward baptism with
water might symbolize; but even as an Israelite of old, though  personally pure, might
become ceremonially unclean by simple contact with the dead, and as such had to go
through the required ablution, so by his close
contact with our spiritually dead humanity,
might the Son of Man be considered as defiled,
and thus require to pass through the waters of




168            THE BAPTISM.
baptism under the hand of John. And even
as the high priest of old, though not a stain
was on his body, had to wash it all over with
pure water before he put on those holy and
beautiful garments, clad with which he entered
within the veil into the Holy of Holies; even
so did the holy Jesus, whilst here without the
camp, a bearer of our reproach, consent to pass
through those baptismal waters, as a step in
his preparation for entering into the true Holy
of Holies, and putting on there those holy and
beautiful garments, the garments of that glory
with which his consecrated, exalted, enthroned
humanity is invested.
But let us now fix our eye on what happened immediately after the baptism of Christ.
lie came up straightway out of the water.
He did not wait, as the Jews asked the proselyte to do, to listen to still further instruction
out of the law;-instruction likely to be the
more deeply impressed by the time and circumstances under which it was given. He did
not wait, as we are led, from the very expression employed here, to believe that many of
those did who received the baptism from John.
In him there was no need for such delay or
any such instruction. The law of his God,




THE BAPrS.             169
was it not written wholly, deeply, indelibly, in
his heart? Straightway, therefore, he goes
forth from under the Baptist's hands. John's
wondering eye is on him as he ascends the
river banks. There he throws himself into the
attitude, engages in the exercise of prayer, and
then it is, as with uplifted hands he gazes into
the heavens, that he sees them opened above
his head, the Spirit of God descending like a
dove, and lighting on him, and a voice from
heaven saying to him, " Thou art my beloved
Son, in whom I am well pleased."
The requirements of the narrative, as given
by St. Matthew, St. Mark, and St. Luke, do
not involve us in the belief that the bystanders
generally, if present in any numbers, saw these
sights and heard that voice. Its being so distinctly specified by each of the Evangelists that
it was He who saw and heard, would rather
lead us to the inference that the sight and the
hearing were confined to our Lord alone.
John, indeed, tells us that he saw the vision,
and we may believe therefore that he also
heard the voice, but beyond the two, who may
have been standing apart and by themselves,
it would not seem that the wonders of this
incident were at the time revealed. Other




170            THE BPnSMx.
instances of like manifestations had this feature
attached to them, that were revealed to those
whose organs were opened, and allowed to
take them in, and were hidden from those
around. Stephen saw the heavens opened,
and the Son of man standing on the right hand
of God. The clamorous crowd about him did
not see as he did. Had the vision burst upon
their eyes, it would have awed their tumultuous rage to rest. When Saul was struck
down on his way to Damascus, his companions
saw indeed a light and heard some sounds, but
they neither saw the person of the Saviour nor
distinguished the words he spoke, though, in
one sense, in a much fitter condition to do so
than Saul was. It is said of the disciples on
the day of Pentecost, that there appeared unto
them tongues as of fire which rested on the
head ofleach; it is not likely that these were
seen by those who mocked.
But be it as it may as to the other spectators and auditors, it is evident that these supernatural appearances gave to the baptism
of Jesus a new character in the Baptist's eyes,
as they should do in ours. In the descending
dove, outward emblem of the descending
Spirit, he not only saw the pre-appointed to



TiE  BAPTs1m.           171
ken that the greater than he who was to baptize with the Holy Ghost was before him, but
in the whole incident he beheld the first great
step in our Lord's public and official life: the
setting of him openly apart as the Lamb for
the sacrifice; his consecration to, and his
qualification for, the great office of the one and
only High Priest over the House of God. The
Levitical law required that the priesthood
should be inaugurated with washing and anointing. Eight days were occupied (as we read
in the 8th chapter of Leviticus) in the various
imposing services of that original ceremonial,
by which the family of Aaron was for ever set
apart to the priestly office. It was now on
the banks of the Jordan that a greater than
Aaron was set apart for a higher than earthly
priesthood. There was little about this consecration externally imposing, but the want
was well supplied. No gorgeous temple, no
brazen laver, but in their stead the pure
waters of the running stream below, and the
vast blue vault of heaven above; no holy and
beautiful garments, the raiment of rich material,
and fine needlework, but in their stead the
spotless robe with which the fulfiller of all
righteousness was clad; no chrysm, no costly




172            THEE BAPTIs1.
sacred oil to pour upon the new priest's head,
but in its stead the anointing with the Holy
Ghost.
As Jesus stepped forth after the baptism on
the banks of the river, he stood severed from
the past, connected with a new future; Nazareth, its quiet home, its happy days, its peaceful occupations, lay behind; trials and toils,
and suffering and death, lay before him. He
would not have been the Son of man had he
not felt the significance and solemnity of the
hour; he would not have been the full partaker of our human nature had the weight of
his new position, new duties, new trials, not
pressed heavily upon his heart. He turns, in
the pure, true instinct of his sinless humanity,
to seek support and strength in God, to throw
himself and all his future upon his Father in
prayer. But who may tell us how he felt, and
what he prayed; what desires, what hopes,
what solicitudes went up from the heart, at
least, if not from the lips, of this extraordinary
suppliant! Never before had the throne of
the heavenly Grace been thus approached,
and never before was such answer given. The
prayer ascends direct from earth to heaven,
and brings the immediate answer down. It is




THaE BAPTISM.           173
as he prays, that the Spirit comes, bringing
light, and strength, and comfort to the Saviour,
sustaining him under that consciousness of his
Sonship to God, which now fills, expands, exalts his weak humanity. And does not our
great Head and Representative stand before us
here a type and pattern of every true believer
in the Lord as to the duty, the privilege, the
power of prayer? Of him, and of him only
of the sons of men, might it be said that he
prayed without ceasing; that his life was one
of constant and sustained communion with his
Father; and yet you find him on all the great
occasions of his life having recourse to separate,
solitary, sometimes to prolonged acts of devotion. His baptism, his appointment of the
twelve apostles, his escape from the attempt to
make him a king, his transfiguration, his agony
in the garden, his death upon the cross, were
all hallowed by prayer. The first and the last
acts of his ministry were acts of prayer: from
the lowest depth, from the highest elevation of
that ministry, he poured out his spirit in prayer.
For his mission on earth, for all his heaviest
trials, he prepared himself by prayer. And
should we not prepare for our poor earthly
service, and fortify ourselves against tempta



174            THE BAPTISM.
tions and trials, by following that great example? The heavens above are not shut up
against us, the Spirit who descended like a
dove has not taken wings and flown away for
ever from this earth. There is a power by
which these heavens can still be penetrated,
which can still bring down upon us that gentle
messenger of rest, —the power that lies in
simple, humble, earnest, continued believing
prayer.
The Holy Spirit as he descended upon Jesus
was pleased to assume the form and gentle
motion of a dove gliding down from the skies.
He came not now as a rushing mighty wind.
He sat not on Jesus as a cloven tongue of fire.
It was right that when he came to do the work
of quick and strong conviction, necessary in
converting the souls of men, to bestow those
gifts by which the first missionaries of the cross
should be qualified for prosecuting that work,
the rush as of a whirlwind should sweep through
the room in which the disciples were assembled,
and the cloven tongues of fire should come
down and rest upon their heads. But the
visitation of the Spirit to the Saviour was for
an altogether different purpose, and it could
not be more fitly represented than by the




TIE BAPTISM.            175
meek-eyed dove, the chosen symbol of gentleness and affection. The eagle with its wing of
power, its eye of fire, its beak of terror, was
the bird of Jove. The dove the bird of Jesus. To him the Spirit came not, as in dealing
with the souls of men, to bring light out of
darkness, order out of confusion; but to point
out, as the Saviour of the world, the meek and
the lowly, the gentle and the loving Jesus.
But was no ulterior purpose served by the
descent of the Spirit on this occasion?  We
touch a mystery here we cannot solve, and
need not try to penetrate. The sinless humanity of Jesus was brought into intimate and
everlasting union with the divine nature of
the Son of God, doubly secured as we should
say from  sin, and fully qualified for all the
Messianic service, and yet we are taught that
that humanity was impregnated and fitted for
its work by the indwelling of the Holy Spirit.
He was born of the Holy Ghost. He was led
by the Spirit into the wilderness. In the synagogue of Nazareth, where he had first opened
his lips as a public teacher, there was given to
him the book of the prophet Isaiah: he read
the words, The Spirit of the Lord is upon me;
and having read the passage out, he closed the




176            THE BAsPTs.
book, and said, This day is this Scripture fulfilled in your ears. John testified of him saying: "He whom God hath sent speaketh the
words of God, for God giveth not the Spirit by
measure unto him." Jesus said of himself:
" If I cast out devils by the Spirit of God, then
is the kingdom of God come unto you." God
sent Peter to Cornelius in opening the kingdom to the Gentiles. "God anointed Jesus
of Nazareth with the Holy Ghost and with
power." It was through the eternal Spirit
that he offered himself without spot to God
(Heb. ix. 14). He was declared to be the Son
of God with power, according to the Spirit of
holiness, by the resurrection from the dead
(Rom. i. 4). It was through the Holy Ghost
that he gave commandments to the apostles
whom he had chosen, until the day in which he
was taken up (Acts i. 2). So it is that through
every stage of his career the Spirit is with him,
qualifying him for every work, why or how, he
alone could tell us who could lift that veil which
shrouds the innermost recesses of the Spirit of
the Incarnate Son of God.
As the Spirit lighted upon Jesus, there came
to him a voice from heaven. This voice was
twice heard again;-on the Mount of Trans



THEm BPTISM.            177
figuration, and within the Temple. It was the
voice of the Father. No man, since the fall
of our first parent, had ever heard that voice
before, as no man has ever heard it since. The
fall sealed the Father's lips in silence; all divine communications afterwards with man were
made through the Son. It was he who appeared and spake to the patriarchs; it was he
who spake from the summit of Sinai, and was
the giver of the law; but now for the first time
the Father's lips are opened, the long-kept
silence is broken, that this testimony of the
Father to the Sonship of Jesus, this expression
of his entire good pleasure with him as he enters upon his ministry, may be given. That
testimony and expression of approval were repeated afterwards in the very same words at
the transfiguration; the words indeed on that
occasion were spoken not to, but of Jesus, and
addressed to the disciples; and so with a latent
reference perhaps to Moses and Elias, the
Father said to them: " This is my beloved Son,
in whom I am well pleased: hear ye him."
But at the baptism St. Mark and St. Luke
agree in stating that the words were spoken
not: of, but directly to Christ himself. Primarily and eminently it may have been for




178            THE BAPTISM.
Christ's own sake that the words were upon
this occasion spoken; and as we contemplate
them in this light, we feel that no thought can
fathom their import, nor gauge what fullness
of joy and strength they may have carried into
the bosom of our Lord. But here too there
is a veil which we must not try to lift. Instead of thinking then what meaning or power
this assurance of his Sonship, and of the Fatlher's full complacency in him, may have had
for Christ, let us take it as opening to our
view the one and only way of our adoption
and acceptance by the Father, even'by our
being so well pleased in all things with Christ,
our having such simple, implicit faith in him
that the Father looking upon us as one with
him, becomes also well pleased with us.




THE TEMPTATION.*
ATAN was suffered to succeed in his temptation of our first parents. His success
may for the moment have seemed to him complete, secure; for did not the sentence run,
"In the day that thou eatest thereof, thou
shalt surely die?" And did not that sentence
come from One whose steadfast truthfulnessdispute it as he might in words with Evenone knew better than himself? Having once
then got man to sin, he might have fancied
that he had broken for ever the tie that bound
earth to heaven, that he had armed againest
the first inhabitants of our globe the same
resistless might, and the  same unyielding
justice by which he and the partners of the
first revolt in heaven had been driven away
* Matthew iv. 1-11; Mark i. 12, 13; Luke iv. 1-13.




180          THE TEMPTATION.
into their dark and ignominious prison-house.
But if such a hope had place for a season in
the tempter's breast, it must surely have given
way when, summoned together with his victims into the divine presence, the Lord God
said to him: "I will put enmity between thee
and the woman, and between thy seed and her
seed; it shall bruise thy head, and thou shalt
bruise his heel." Obscure as these words may
at the time have seemed, yet must they have
taught Satan to know that his empire over this
new-formed world was neither to be an undisputed nor an undivided one. An enmity of
some kind between his seed and the woman's
seed was to arise; no mere temporary irritation and insubordination on the part of his
new subjects, but an enmity which would
prove fatal to himself and to his kingdom, the
final advantage in the predicted warfare being
all against him, for while he was to bruise the
heel of his enemy, that enemy was to bruise
his head, to crush his power.
It could not therefore have been with a sense
of security free from uneasy anticipations, that
from the days of the first Adam down to the
birth of the second, the God of this world held
his empire over our earth. His dominion was




THim TEEMPTAON.          181
the dominion of sin and death, and his triumph
might seem complete, none of all our race
being found who could keep himself from sin;
whilst every one that sinned had died. But
were there no checks to the exercise of his
power, nothing to inspire him  with alarm?
Had not Enoch and Elijah passed away from
the world without tasting death? And must
it not have appeared to him an inscrutable
mystery that so many human spirits escaped at
death, altogether from  beneath his sway?
There were those prophecies, besides, delivered
in Judea, of which he could not be ignorant,
getting clearer and clearer as they grew in
number, speaking of the advent of a great
deliverer of the race; there were those Jewish
ceremonies prefiguring some great event disastrous to his reign; there was the whole history and government of that wonderful people,
the seed of Israel, guided by another hand
than his, and regulated with a hostile purpose.
All this must have awakened dark forebodings within Satan's breast; forebodings stirred
into a heightened terror when one of the woman's seed at last appeared, who, for thirty
years, with perfect ease, apparently without
a struggle, resisted all the seductions by which




182          THE TEMPTrATION.
his brethren of mankind had been led into sin.
The visit of Gabriel to Nazareth, the angelic
salutations, the angels that appeared and the
hymns that floated over the hills of Bethlehem,
the adoration of the shepherds, the worship of
the wise men, the prophecies of the Templeall these, let us believe, were known to the
great adversary of our race; but not one nor
all of them together excited in him such wonder or alarm as this simple fact, that here at
last was one who stood absolutely stainless in
the midst of the world's manifold pollutions.
So long however, as Jesus lived quietly and
obscurely at Nazareth he might be permitted
to enjoy his solitary triumph undisturbed, but
his baptism in the Jordan brings him out from
his retreat. This voice from heaven, a voice
that neither man nor devil had ever heard before, resounding through the opened skies,
proclaims Him to be more than a son of manto be, in very deed, the Son of God. Who can
this mysterious being be?-an alien and an
enemy, Satan has counted him from his youth.
But his Sonship to God! What can that imply; how is it to be manifested? The time
has come for putting him to extreme trial, and,
if he may not be personally overcome, for forc



THE TEMPTATION.          183
ing him to disclose his character at the commencement of his career.
The opportunity for making the attempt is
given. " Then was Jesus led up of the Spirit
into the wilderness to be tempted of the devil."
It was not, we may believe, under anything like
compulsion, outward or inward, that Jesus acted when immediately after his baptism he retired to the desert. Between the promptings
of the Spirit of God and the movements of
Christ there ever must have been the most entire consent and harmony. Why, then, so instantly after his public inauguration to his
earthly work, is there this voluntary retirement
of our Lord, this hiding of himself iu lonely
solitudes? Accepting here the statement of
the Evangelist, that it was to furnish the
Prince of Darkness with the fit opportunity of
assaulting him, may we not believe that these
forty days in the wilderness without food
served some other ends besides-did for our
Lord in his higher vocation what the forty days
of fasting did for Moses and Elijah in their
lesser prophetic office; that they were days of
preparation, meditation, prayer-a brief season
interposed between the peaceful private life of
Nazareth, and the public troubled life on which




184          THE TEMPTATION.
he was about to enter, for the purpose of girdilg him  up for the great task assigned to
him-a season of such close, absorbing, elevating spiritual exercises that the spirit triumphed
over the body, and for a time felt not even the
need of daily food? It was not till these forty
days were over that he was an-hungered, nor
was it till hunger was felt that the tempter
came in person to assault. The expressions
used indeed by St. Mark and St. Luke appear
to imply that the temptation ran through all
the forty days; but if so, it must, in the first
instance, have been of an inward and purely
spiritual character, such as we can well conceive mingling with and shadowing those other
exercises to which the days and nights of that
long solitude and fasting were devoted.
And yet, though the holy spirit of our Lord
prompted him to follow with willing footstep
the leadings of the Holy Ghost, his true humanity may well have shrunk from what
awaited him in the desert. He knew that he
was there to come into close contact with, to
meet in personal encounter the Head of that
kingdom he was commissioned to overthrow;
and, even as in the Garden human weakness
sank tremblingly under the burden of immneasur



TEE TEMPTATION.          185
able woe, so here it may have shrunk front
such an interview and such a conflict, needing
as it were to be urged by Divine compulsion,
and thus authorizing the strong expression
which St. Mark employs, "Immediately the
Spirit driveth him into the wilderness." It
may in fact have been no small part of that
trial which ran through the forty days that he
had continually before him, the approach and
the encounter with the Prince of Darkness.
Whatever that state of his spirit was which
rendered him insensible to the cravings of
hunger, it terminates with the close of the
forty days. The inward supports that hlad
borne him up during that rapt ecstatic condition are removed. He sinks back into a natural condition. The common bodily sensations begin to be experienced; a strong craving for food is felt. Now, then, is the moment for the tempter to make his first assault
upon the Holy One, as weak, famished, the
hunger of his long fast gnawing at his heart,
he wanders with the wild beasts as his sole
companions over the frightful solitudes. Coming upon him abruptly, he says to Jesus, " If
thou be the Son of God, command that these
stones be made bread." The words of the re



186          THE TEMPTATION.
cent baptismal scene at the Jordan are yet
ringing in Satan's ears. He knows not what
to make of them. He would fain believe them
false; or better still, he would fain prove them
false by prevailing upon Christ himself to
doubt their truth. For, for him to doubt his
Father's word would be virtually to renounce,
disprove his Sonship. Even then, as by his
artful insidious speech to the woman in the
garden-Yea, has God said, In the day thou
eatest thou shalt die?-he sought to insinuate
a secret doubt of the divine truthfulness and
divine goodness, so here, into the bosom of
Jesus in the wilderness, he seeks to infuse a
kindred doubt.'If thou be really the Son of God, as I have
so lately heard thee called. But canst thou
be? can it be here, and thus-alone in these
desert places, foodless, companionless, comfortless, for so many days-that God would
leave or trust his Son? But if thou wilt not
doubt that thou art his Son, surely God could
never mean nor wish that his Son should continue in such a state as this? If thou be truly
what thou hast been called, then all power
must be thine; whatsoever things the Father
doeth, thou too must be able to do. Show,




THE TEMPTATION.          187
then, thy Sonship, exert thy power, relieve
thyself from this pressing hunger; " command
that these stones be made bread."' The
temptation here is twofold: to shake if possible Christ's confidence in Him who ha4 brought
him into such a condition of extreme need, and
to induce him, under the influence of that distrust, to exert at once his own power to deliver himself, to work a miracle to provide
himself with food. The temptation is at once
repelled, not by any assertion of his Sonship,
or of his abiding trust in God, in opposition to
the insidious doubt suggested, —for that doubt
the Saviour never cherished; the shaft that
carried this doubt in it, though artfully contrived and skillfully directed, glanced innocuous from the mind of that confiding Son, who
was ever as well pleased with the Father,
as the Father had declared himself to be with
him.
Nor was the temptation repelled by any
sach counter argument as that it was inadmissible to exert his Divine power merely for
his own benefit; but by a simple quotation
from the book of Deuteronomy: " It is written, Man shall not live by bread alone, but by
every word that proceedeth out of the mouth




188          THE TEMPTATION.
of God." Jesus waives thus all question about
his being the Son of God, or how it behoved
him in that character to act. He takes his
place as a son of man, and lays his hand upon
an incident in the history of the children of
Israel, who, led out into the wilderness, and
continuing as destitute of common food for
forty years as he had been for forty days, received in due time the manna provided for
them by God, who said to them afterwards, by
the lips of Moses: " The Lord thy God humbled thee, and suffered thee to hunger, and
fed thee with manna, that he might make thee
know that man doth not live by bread alone,
but by every word that proceedeth out of the
mouth of God." It was by the word of the
Lord's creative power that for those hungry
Israelites the manna was provided; that word
went forth at the Lord's own time, and to meet
his people's wants in the Lord's own way;
and upon that word, that is, upon Him whose
word it was, Jesus, when now like the Israelites an-hungered in the wilderness, will rely.
It is not necessary for him to turn stones into
bread in order to sustain his life; other kind
of food his Father, if he so pleased, could provide, and he will leave him to do as he pleases.




THE TEMPTIAON.          189
From that entire dependence on his Father, to
which in his present circumstances, and under
that Father's guidance, he had been shut up,
he had no desire to be relieved-would certainly do nothing prematurely to relieve himself, and least of all at Satan's bidding would
use the higher, the divine faculty that was in
him, as a mere instrument of self-gratification.
It was in the same spirit of self-denial, that
ever afterwards he acted.. Those who taunted
him on the cross, by saying, " If thou be the
Son of God, come down from the cross," knew
not how exact an echo their speech at Calvary
was of Satan's speech in the wilderness,-how
thoroughly they were proving their parentage,
as being of their father the Devil. But Jesus
would do neither as Satan nor these his children bade him. His power divine was given
him to execute the great office of our spiritual
deliverer: his way to the execution of his
office lay through trial, suffering, and death,
and he would not call that power in to save
him from any part of the required endurance;
neither from the hunger of the wilderness, nor
from any of the far heavier loads he had afterwards to bear.
Foiled in his first attempt, accepting but




190          THE TEMPTATION.
profiting by his defeat, the artful adversary at
once reverses his method, and assaults the Saviour precisely on the other side. He has tried
to shake Christ's trust in his Father; he has
failed; that trust seems only to gather strength
the more severely it is proved; he will work
now upon that very trust, and try to press it
into presumption. " Then the Devil taketh
him up into the holy city, and setteth him on
a pinnacle of the Temple, and saith unto him,
If thou be the Son of God, cast thyself down."'I acknowledge that you have been right in the
wilderness, that you have acted as a true Son,)f the Father. You have given, in fact, no
mean proof of your entire confidence in him as
your Father, in standing there in the extremity of hunger, and virtually saying, I am here
by the will of God, here he can and he will
provide, I leave all to him. But come, I ask
you now to make another and still more striking display of your dependence in all possible
conjunctures on the Divine aid.  Show me,
and all those worshippers in the court below,
how far this faith of yours in your Father will
carry you. Do now, what in the sight of all
will prove you to be the very one the Jews
are looking for. If thou be the Son of God,




THE TEMPTATION.          191
then, as we shall presume thou art, cast thyself down; the God who sustained thy body
without food in the wilderness, can surely sustain it as you fling yourself into the yielding
air; the people who are longing to see some
wonder done by their expected Messiah, will
hail you as such at once, when they see you,
instead of being dashed to pieces, floating down
at their feet as gently as a dove, and alighting
in the midst of -them. Give to me and them
this proof of the greatness of your faith, the
reality of your Sonship to God; and if you
want a warrant for the act in those Scriptures
which you have already quoted, remember
what is written in one of those ancient Psalms,
a psalm that the wise men say relates to you:
" He shall give his angels charge concerning
thee, and in their hands they shall bear thee
up, lest at any time thou dash thy foot against
a stone."'
As promptly as before the Lord replies: "It
is written again, Thou shalt not tempt the
Lord thy God." Here again, there is no attempt at argument, no correction of the quotation which the tempter had made, no reminding him that, in quoting, he had omitted
one essential clause, "H e shall keep thee in all




192          THE TEMPTATION.
thy ways," the ways of his appointment, not
of thine own fashioning. The one Scripture
is simply met by the other, and left to be interpreted thereby. "Thou shalt not tempt
the Lord thy God." To trust was one thing,
to tempt another. Jesus would rely to the
very uttermost upon the Divine faithfulness,
upon God's promised care and help; but he
would not put that faithfulness to a needless
trial. If put by the Devil in a position of
difficulty and danger, he will cherish an unbounded trust in God, and if extrication from
that position be desirable, and no other way
of effecting it be left, he will even believe that
God will miraculously interpose in his behalf.
But he will not of his own accord, without
any proper call or invitation, for no other purpose than to make an experiment of the
Father's willingness to aid him, to make a show
of the kind of heavenly protection he could
claim; he will not voluntarily place himself in
such a position. He was here on the pinnacle
of the Temple, from that pinnacle there was
another open, easy, safe method of descent;
why should he refuse to take it if he desired to
descend; why fling himself into open space?
If he did so unasked, unordered by God him



THE TEMPTATION.         193
self, what warrant could he have that the Divine power would be put forth to bear him up?
God had indeed promised to bear him up, but
he had not bidden him cast himself down, for
no other purpose than to see whether he would
be borne up or not; to do what Satan wished
him to do, would be to show not the strength
of his faith, but the extent of his presumption.
Thus once again by that sword of the Spirit,
which is the Word of God, is the second thrust
of the adversary turned aside.
These first two temptations, whilst opposite
in character have yet much that is common to
both. The preface to each of them is. the
same: "If thou be the Son of God,"-a preface obviously suggested by the recent testimony at the baptism. They have also the common object of probing to the bottom, and thus
trying to ascertain, the powers and privileges
which this Sonship to God conferred. There
was curiosity as well as malice in the double
effort to do so, and the subtlety of their method
lay in this, that they were so constructed that
had Christ yielded to either, in the very disclosure of his Godhead, there had been an
abuse of its power. Had Jesus taken the Devil's way of proving his strength, he would have




194          TimE TEMPTATION.
taken the very way to have broken it. In
those first two temptations, Satan had spoken
nothing of himself, had revealed nothing of his
purposes; but balked in them he now drops
the mask, appears in his own person, and
boldly claims homage from Christ: "Again,
the Devil taketh him up into an exceeding high
mountain, and showeth him all the kingdoms
of the world, and the glory of them; and saith
unto him, All these things will I give thee, if
thou wilt fall down and worship me." Had it
been upon the actual summit of the Temple at
Jerusalem that Jesus previously had been
placed, and if so, how  was his conveyance
thither effected? was it upon the actual summit
of some earthly mountain that the feet of our
Saviour were now planted, and if so, how was
it, how could it be that all the kingdoms of the
world and the glory of them were brought before his eye? We have no answer to give to
those questions; we care not to speculate as to
the outward mode in which each temptation
was managed. We are willing to believe anything as to the accessories of this narrative
which leave untouched its truthfulness as a
historic record of an actual and personal encounter between the Prince of Darkness and




TiE TEMPTATION.         195
the Prince of Light. That the gospel narrative is such a record, we undoubtingly believe,
and are strengthened in our faith as we perceive not only the suitableness and the subtlety
of each individual temptation, as addressed to
the humanity of our Lord, assaulting it in the
only quarters in which it lay open to assault;
but the comprehensiveness of the whole temptation, as exemplifying those classes of temptations by which humanity at large, by which
each of {us, individually, is seduced from the
path of true obedience unto God. The body,
soul, and spirit of our Lord were each in turn
invaded; by the lust of the flesh, by the lust of
the eyes, by the pride of life, it was attempted
to draw him away from his allegiance. The
first temptation was built upon bodily appetite,
the hunger of the long fast; the second, upon
the love of ostentation, the desire we all have
to show to the uttermost in what favor we
stand with God or men; the third, upon
ambition, the love of earthly, outward power
and glory.
The third had, however, a special adaptation
to Christ's personal character and position at
the time, and this very adaptation lent to it
peculiar strength, making it, as it was the last,




196          THE TEPTATION.
so also the most insidious, the most alluring of
the three. Jesus knew the ancient prophecies
about a universal monarchy that was to be set
up in the days of Messiah the Prince. From
the days of his childhood, when in the Temple
he had sat among the doctors, hearing them
and asking them questions, the sacred volume
which contained these prophecies had been in
his hands. Who shall tell us with what interest, with what wonder, with what self-application these prophecies were pondered by him in
the days of his youth, during which he grew in
wisdom as he grew in years? Who shall tell
us how soon or how fully he attained the sublime consciousness that he was himself the
Messiah of whom that volume spake? Whatever may have been his earlier experience, at
the time at least when the attestation at his
baptism was given, that consciousness filled
and pervaded his spirit. But he fell not into
the general delusion which, in its desire for a
conquering and victorious prince, lost sight of
a suffering, dying Redeemer. He knew full
well that the path marked out for him as the
Saviour of mankind lay through profoundest
sorrow, and would end in agonizing death.
HEow much of all this Satan knew, it would be




THE TEMPTATION.         197
presumptuous to conjecture. This, however,
we are assured, that he knew-for he had
heard and could quote the ancient prophecies
which pointed to it-he knew about a monarchy that in the last days the God of heaven
was to set up,.which was to overturn his own,
which was to embrace all the kingdoms of the
world, and into which all the glory of these
kingdoms was to be brought. And he may,
we might almost say, he must have known
beforehand of the toil, and strife, and hard
endurance through which the throne of that
monarchy was to be reached by his great rival.
And now that rival is before him, just entering upon his career. Upon that rival he
will make a bold attempt. He will show him
all those kingdoms that have been so long under his dominion as the God of this world. He
will offer them all to him at once, without a
single blow being struck, a single peril encountered, a single suffering endured. He will
save him all that cQnflict which, if not doubtful
in the issue, was to be so painful in its progress.
He will lay down his sceptre, and suffer Jesus
to take it up. In one great gift he will make
over his whole right of empire over these kingdoms of the world to Christ, suffer him at once




198          THE TEMPTATION.
to enter upon possession of them, and clothe
himself with all their glory. This is his glittering bribe, and all he asks in return is that
Jesus shall do him homage, as the superior by
whom the splendid fief was given, and under
whom it is held.
A bold and blasphemous attempt, for who
gave him those kingdoms thus to give away?
And how could he imagine that Jesus was open
to a bribe, or would ever bow the knee to him?
Let us remember, however, that we all judge
others by ourselves-; that there are those who
think that every man has his price; that, make
the bribe but large enough, and any man may
be bought. And at the head of such thinkers
is Satan. He judged Jesus by himself. And
even as through lust of government he, archangel though he was, had not hesitated to
withdraw his worship from the Supreme, so
nay he have thought that, taken unawares,
even the Son of God himself might have fallen
before the dazzling temptation. Had he done
so, Satan would indeed have triumphed; for
putting wholly out of the question the violated
relationship to the Father, Jesus would thus
have renounced all the purely moral and religious purposes of his mission-would have




THE TEMPTATION.          199
ceased to be regarded as the author of a spiritual revolution, and the founder of a spiritual
kingdom, affecting myriads of human spirits
from the beginning to the end of time, and
would thenceforth have- taken up the character
of a mere vulgar earthly monarch.
But Satan knew not with whom he had to
do. The eye of Jesus may for a moment have
been dazzled by the offer made, and this implied neither imperfection nor sin, but it refused
to rest upon the seducing spectacle. It turned
quickly and resolutely away. No sooner is the
bribe offered than it is repelled. In haste, as
if that magnificent panorama was not one on
which even his pure eye should be suffered to
repose; as if this temptation were one which
even he could not afford to dally with; in anger too at the base condition coupled with the
bribe, and as if he who offered it could no
longer be suffered to remain in his presence, he
calls the Devil by his name, and says: " Get
thee hence, Satan; for it is written, Thou shalt
worship the Lord thy God, and him only shalt
thou serve." Satan had wanted Jesus to give
him some proof of his Divine power, and now
he gets it; gets it as that command is given
which he must instantly obey. At once all




200          THE TEMPTATION.
that glittering illusion that he had conjured up
vanishes from the view. At once his hateful
presence is withdrawn, the conflict is over, the
victory is complete. Jesus stands once more
alone in the wilderness, but he is not left alone.
Angels come and minister unto him, gazing
with wonder on that mysterious man who has
entered into this solitary conflict with the head
of the principalities and powers of darkness,
and foiled him at every point.
But how are we to look upon this mysterious
passage in the life of Christ? Are we to read
the record of it as we would the story of a
duel between two great chiefs, under neither
of whom we shall ever have to serve, in the
mode and tactics of whose warfare we have
consequently but little interest? The very reverse. He who appeared that day in the wilderness before Jesus, and by so many wily
acts strove to rob him of his integrity as a Son
of the Father, goeth about still as the archenemy of our souls, seeking whom he may devour. His power over us is not weakened,
though it failed on Christ. His malice against
us is not lessened, though it was impotent
when tried on him. The time, the person, the
circumstances, all bestowed an undoubted




TME TEMPTATON.           201
peculiarity upon these temptations of the wilderness, the Temple, and the mountain-top.
We may be very sure that by temptations the
same in outward form no other human being
shall ever be assailed. But setting aside all
that was special in them, let us lay our hand
on the radical and essential principle of each
of these three temptations, that we may see
whether each of us is not still personally exposed to it.
In the first instance, Christ, when under the
pressure of one of the most urgent appetites of
our nature, is tempted to use a power that he got
for other purposes, to minister to his own gratification. He is tempted, in fact, to use unlawful means to procure food. Is that a rare
temptation? Not to speak here of those poor
unfortunates who, under a like pressure, are
tempted to put forth their hands to what is not
their own, what shall we say of the merchant
whom, in the brightest season of his prosperity,
some sore and unexpected calamity overtakes?
Through some reckless speculation, hc sees the
gay vision of his hopes give way and utter
ruin stand before him but a few days off. The
dismal picture of a family accustomed to wealth
plunged into poverty already haunts his eye




202           THE TEMPTATION.
and rends his heart. But a short respite still
is given. Those around him are ignorant how
he stands, his credit still is good, confidence in
him is still unbroken. He can use that credit,
he can employ the facilities which that Confidence still gives. He dishonorably does so;
with stealthy hand he places a portion of his
fortune beyond the reach of his future creditors
to keep it for his family's use. That man meets
and falls under the very same temptation with
which our Lord and Master was assailed. Distrusting God, he uses the powers and opportunities given him, unrighteously and for selfish
ends. He forgets that man liveth not by bread
alone, but by every word which proceedeth
out of the mouth of God.
Or what again shall we say of him who,
fairly committed to the faith of Christ, and embarked in the great effort of overcoming all
that is evil in his evil nature, plunges, with
scarce a thought, into scenes and amid temptations such that it would need a miracle to
bring him forth unscathed?  That man meets
and falls under the very same temptation with
which our Saviour was assailed, when the Devil
said, Cast thyself down, and quoted the promise of Divine support. Many and most pre



THE  TEMPTATION.          203
cious indeed are the promises of Divine protection and support given us in the Word of
God, but they are not for us to rest on if recklessly and needlessly we rush into danger, crossing any of the common laws of nature, or
trampling the dictates of ordinary prudence
and the lesson of universal experience beneath
our feet. It is not faith, it is presumption which
does so.
It might seem that we could find no actual
parallel to the last temptation of our Lord, but
in truth it is the one of all the three that is most
frequently presented. Thrones and kingdoms,
and all their glory, are not held out to us, but
the wealth and the distinctions, the honors and
the pleasures of life,-these in different forms,
in different degrees, ply with their solicitations
all of us in every rank from the highest. to the
lowest, tempting us away from God to worship
and serve the creature more than the Creator,
who is blessed for evermore. A spectacle not
so wide, less gorgeous in its coloring, but as
sensuous, as illusive as that presented to Jesus on the mountain-top, the arch-deceiver
spreads out before our eyes, whispering to our
hearts, "All this will I give you;" all this
money, all that ease, all that pleasure, all




204          THE TEMnPTATION.
that rank, all that power, but in saying so he
deals with us more treacherously than he dealt
with Christ of old. With him he boldly and
broadly laid it down as the condition of the
grant, that Christ should fall down and worship him. He asks from us no bending of the
knee, no act of outward worship; all he asks
is, that we believe his false promises, and turn
away from God and Christ to give ourselves
up to worldliness of heart and habit and pursuit. If we do so he is indifferent how we now
think or act toward himself personally, for this
is one of the worst peculiarities of that kingdom
of darkness over which he presides, that its ruler knows no better subjects than those who
deny his very being, and disown his rule.
But if it be to the very same temptations as
those which beset our divine Lord and Master,
that we are still exposed, let us be grateful to
him for teaching us how to overcome them.
He used throughout a single weapon. He had
the whole armory of heaven at his command;
but he chose only one instrument of defence,
the Word, the written Word, that sword of the
Spirit. It was it that he so successfully employed. Why this exclusive use of an old
weapon? He did not need to have recourse




TiE TEMPTATION.         205
to it. A word of his own spoken would have
had as much power as a written one quoted;
but then the lesson of his example had been
lost to us-the evidence that he himself has
left behind of the power over temptation that
lies in the written word. Knowing, then, that
you wrestle not with the flesh and blood alone,
but with angels and principalities, and powers,
and with him the head of all, of whose devices
it becomes you not to be ignorant, take unto
you the whole armor of God, for all is
needed; but remember, of all the pieces of
which that panoply is composed, the last that
is put into the hand of the Christian soldier by
the great Captain of his salvation-put into
his hand as the one that he himself, on the
great occasion of his conflict with the Devil,
used-put into his hand as the most effective
and the only one that serves at once for defence and for assault-is the sword of the
Spirit, and the Word of God. By it all other
parts of the armor are guarded.  The helmet might be shattered on the brow, the shield
wrenched from the arm, did it not protect;
for hope and faith, that helmet and that shield,
on what do they rest,, but upon the Word of
the living God? When the tempter comes, then,




206           TmE TEMPTATON.
and plies you with his manifold and strong
solicitations, be ready to meet him, as Jesus
met him in the wilderness, and you shall thus
come to know how true is that saying of David: "By the words of thy lips I have kept
me from the path of the destroyer."




X.
THE FIRST DISCIPLES.*
FROM the forty days in the desert, from the
1  long fast, from the triple assault, from the
great victory won, from the companionship of
the ministering angels, Jesus returns to the
banks of Jordan, and mingles unnoticed and
unknown, among the disciples of the Baptist.
On the day of his return, a deputation from
the Sanhedrim in Jerusalem arrives, to institute a formal and authoritative inquiry into
the character and claims of the great preacher
of repentance. John's answers to the questions put by these deputies, are chiefly negative in  their character.  He is not the
Christ; he is not Elijah risen from the dead;
neither is he that prophet, by whom, as they
imagined, Elijah was to be accompanied; who
*John i. 29-51.




208        THE FIRST DISCIPLES.
he is he would not say, however pointedly interrogated. But what he is, he so far informs
them  as to quote and apply to himself the
passage from the prophecies of Isaiah, which
spake of a voice crying in the wilderness,
"Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make his
paths straight." Challenged as to his right to
baptize, if he is not that Christ, nor Elias, nor
that prophet, John can now speak as he had
not been able to do previously. Hitherto he
had spoken indeterminately of one whom he
knew not, the greater than he, who was to
come after him;  but now the sign from
heaven had been given, the Spirit had been
seen descending and abiding on Jesus. From
the day of his baptism Jesus had withdrawn
John knew not whither, but now he sees him
in the crowd, and says: "I baptize with water: but there standeth one among you, whom
ye know not; he it is, who, coming after me,
is preferred before me, whose shoe's latchet I
am not worthy to unloose."
Having got so little to satisfy them as to
who the Baptist was, it does not seem that the
deputies from Jerusalem troubled themselves
to make any inquiries as to who this other and
greater than John was. Nor was it otherwise




THE FIRST DISCIPLES.       209
with the multitude. Though the words of the
Baptist, so publicly spoken, were such as might
well awaken curiosity, the day passed, and Jesus remained unknown, assuming, saying, doing nothing by which he could be recognized.
That John needed to point him out in order to
recognition confirms our belief, derived in the
first instance directly from the narrative itself,
that at the baptism none but John and Jesus
heard the voice from heaven, or saw the descending dove. Had the bystanders seen and
heard these, among the disciples of John there
would have been some ready at once to recognize Jesus on his return from the desert. But
it is not so. Jesus remains hidden, and will
not with his own hand lift the veil-will not
bear any witness of himself-leaves it to
another to do so.
But he must not continue thus unknown,that were to frustrate the very end of all John's
ministry. The next day, therefore, as John
sees Jesus coming to him, whilst yet he is some
way off, he points to him, and says: "Behold
the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin
of the world! This is he of whom I said,
After me cometh a man which is preferred before me; for he was before me. And I knew




210        THE FIRST DISCIPLES.
him not: but that he should be made manifest to Israel, therefore am I come baptizing
with water." "I saw the Spirit descending
from heaven like a dove, and it abode upon
him. And I knew him not: but he that sent
me to baptize with water, the same said unto
me, Upon whom thou shalt see the Spirit descending, and remaining on him, the same is
he which baptizeth with the Holy Ghost. And
I saw, and bare record that this is the Son of
God."
John's first public official testimony to Christ
was, as it seems to me, particularly remarkable,
as containing no reference whatever to that
character or office in which the mass, of the
Jewish people might have been willing enough
to recognize him, but confined to those two
attributes of his person and work which they
so resolutely rejected. There is no mention
here of Jesus as Messiah, the Prince, the King
of Israel. The record that John bears of him
is, that he is the Son of God, the Lamb of God.
He had lately heard the voice from heaven saying: "Thou art my beloved Son, in whom I
am well pleased."  In giving him then this
title, in calling him the Son of God, John was
but re-echoing, as it were, the testimony of the




THE FIRST DISCIPLES.       211
Father. Taught thus to use and to apply it, it
may be fairly questioned, whether the Baptist
in his first employment of it entered into the
full significance of the term, as declarative ot
Christ's unity of nature with the Father. That
in its highest, its only true sense indeed, it did
carry with it such a meaning, and was understood to do so by those who knew best how to
interpret it, appears in many a striking passage
of the life of Jesus, and most conspicuously of
all, in his trial and condemnation before the
Jewish Sanhedrim. It was a title whose assumption by Jesus involved, in the apprehension of those who regarded him but as a man,
nothing short of blasphemy. Such is the title
here given to him by the Baptist. Whether he
fully understood it or not, we can trace its
adoption and employment to an obvious and
natural source.
But that other title, the Lamb of God, and
the description annexed to it, "who taketh
away the sin of the world," how came the Baptist to apply these to Christ, and what did he
mean by doing so? Here we cannot doubt
that the same inner and divine teaching, which
taught him in a passage of Isaiah's prophecies
to see himself, taught him in another to see the




212        THE FIRST DISCIuLES.
Saviour, and that it was from that passage in
which the prophet speaks of the Messiah as a
Lamb brought to the slaughter, as a sheep
dumb before his shearers, that he borrowed the
title now for the first time bestowed upon Jesus.
From the same passage, too, he learned that
the Anointed of the Lord was to be " wounded
for our transgressions, to be bruised for our
iniquities, the chastisement of our peace was
to be upon him, and with his stripes we are to
be healed." Here in Jesus, John sees the
greater than himself whose way he was to prepare before him, but that way he sees to be
one leading him to suffering and to death; his
perhaps the only Jewish eye at that moment
opened to discern the truth that it was through
this suffering and this death that the spiritual
victories of the great King were to be achieved.
that it was upon them that his spiritual kingdom was to have its broad and deep foundations laid. John's baptism had hitherto been
one of repentance for the remission of sins.
This remission had been held out in prospect as the end to which repentance was
to conduct; but all about its source, its fullness,
its certainty had been obscure,-obscure perhaps to John's own eyes, obscure at least in the




TH:E FIRST DISPLES.       213
manner of his speaking about it; but now he
sees the Lamb of God, the suffering, dying
Jesus, taking away by bearing it the sin of the
world,-not taking away by subduing it the
sinfulness of the world, that John could not
have meant, this Jesus has not done, —but taking the world's sin away by taking it on hilnself, and expiring beneath its load, making the
great atoning sacrifice, fulfilling all the types
of the Jewish ceremonial, all that the paschal
lamb, all that the lamb of the morning and
evening sacrifice had been typifying.
In the two declarations then of John, " This
is the Son of God," "Behold the Lamb of God,
who taketh away the sin of the world," you
have in a form as distinct, as short and compendious as it is anywhere else to be found, —the gospel of the kingdom. The divine nature
of the man Christ Jesus, the completeness and
efficacy of the shedding of his blood, of the
offering up of himself for the remission of sins,
are they not here very simply and plainly set
forth? We are not asked to believe that the
Baptist himself understood his own testimony
to Christ, as with the light thrown on it by the
Epistles, and especially in this instance, by the
Epistle to the Hebrews, we now understand it;




214         TimHE FIRST DisCIPrEs.
but assuredly he understood so much of it as
that he himself saw in Christ, and desired that
others should see in him, the heaven-laid channel, opened up through his life and death, of
that Divine mercy which covereth all the transgressions of every penitent believing soul.
How interesting to hear this gospel of the
grace of God preached so early, so simply, so
earnestly, so believingly by him whose office
in all the earlier parts of his ministry was so
purely moral, a call simply to repentance, to
acts and deeds of justice, mercy, truth. But
this was the issue to which all those preparatory instructions were to conduct. The law in
the hands of John was to be a schoolmaster to
guide at last to Christ; and when the time for
that guidance came, was it not with a sensation of relief, a bounding throb of exulting
satisfaction, that —conscious of how impotent
in themselves all his efforts were to get men
to repent and reform, while the pardon of
their sins was anxiously toiled after in the
midst of perplexity and doubt, instead of being
gratefully and joyfully accepted as God's free
gift in Christ-the Baptist proclaimed to all
around, "Behold the Lamb of God, which
taketh away the sin of the world."




THE FIRST DISCIPLES.        215
Nor was he discouraged that his announcenment met with no response that day from the
crowd around, that still his voice was as the
voice of one crying in a wilderness. The many
who waited on his ministry, and partook of
his baptism, came from curiosity, acted on a
passing impulse, hoped that some new and
*better state of things socially and politically
was to be ushered in by this strange child of
the desert,-and had no deeper wants to be
supplied, or spiritual longings to be satisfied.
Quite strange —if not unmeaning, yet unwelcome-to their ears, this new utterance of the
Baptist. It was not after the Lamb of God,
not after one who was to take away their sins,
that they were seeking. But there were others
of a different mould, partakers of the spirit of
Simeon and Anna, waiting for the consolation
of Israel, for the coming of one to whom, whatever outward kingdom he was to set up, they
mainly looked as their spiritual Lord and King,
in the days of whose kingdom peace was to
enter troubled consciences, and there should
be rest for wearied hearts. The eyes of these
waiters for the morning saw the first streaks
of dawn in the ministry of the Baptist, and
some of them had already enrolled themselves




216        TiE  FIRST DISCIPLES.
as his disciples, attaching themselves permanently to his person.'The next day after he had given his first
testimony to Christ's lamb-like and sacrificial
character and office,-a testimony apparently
so little heeded, attended at least with no outward and visible result,-John is standing with
two of these disciples by his side. He will repeat to them the testimony of yesterday; they
had heard it already, but he will try whether
it will not have another and more powerful
effect when given not promiscuously to a general audience, but specifically to these two.
Looking upon Jesus as he walked, he directed
their attention to him, by simply saying once
again, "Behold the LAMB OF GOD!" —leaving
it to their memory to supply all about him
which in the course of the two preceding days
lhe had declared. Not now without effect.
Neither of these two men may know as yet in
what sense he is the Lamb of God, nor how
by him their sin is to be taken away; but both
have felt their need of some one willing and
able to guide their agitated hearts to a secure
haven of rest, and they hope to find in him
thus pointed out the one they need. They
follow him. John restrains theim not; it is as




THE FIRST DISCPLmEs.       217
he would wish. Willingly, gladly, he sees
them part from him to follow this new Master.
He knows that they are putting themselves
under a better, higher guidance than any which
he can give. But who are these two men?
One of them is Andrew, better known to us
by his brotherhood to Simon. The other rereals himself by the very manner in which he
draws the veil over his own name, He would
not name himself, and by that very modesty
which he displays he stands revealed. It is no
other than that disciple whom Jesus loved; no
other than the writer of this Gospel, upon
whose memory those days of his first acquaintance with Jesus had fixed themselves in the
exact succession of their incidents so indelibly,
that though he writes his narrative at least
forty years after the death of Christ, he writes
not only as an eye-witness, but as one who can
tell day after day what happened, and no doubt
the day was memorable to him, and the very
hour of that day, on which he left the Baptist's side to join himself to Jesus.
John and Andrew follow Jesus. We wonder which of the two it was that made the first
movemnent towards him. Let us believe it to
have been John, that we may cherish the




218        TiE FIRST DISCIPLES.
thought that he was the first to follow as he
was the last to leave. He was one at least of
the first two men who became followers of the
Lamb; and that because of their having heard
him described as the Lamb of God. When
this first incident in his own connexion with
Jesus is considered, need we wonder that this
epithet " the Lamb" became so favorite a one
with John; that it is in his writings, and in
them alone of all the writings of the New Testament, that it is to be found, occurring nearly
thirty times in the book of the Apocalypse.
The two disciples follow Jesus, silently, respectfully, admiringly —anxious to address him,
yet unwilling to obtrude. He relieves them
from  their embarrassment. The instinct of
that love which is already drawing them to
him, tells him that he is being followed for the
first time by human footsteps, answering to
warm-beating anxious human hearts. He turns
and says to them, " What seek ye?" a vague and
general question, which left it open to them to
give any answer that they pleased, to connect
their movement with him or not. But their
true. hearts speak out. It is not any short and
hurried converse by the way that will satisfy
their ardent longings. They would have hours




THm  FIRST DiscIPLES.    219
with him, days with him, alone in the seclusion
of his home. " Rabbi," —they say to him, the
first time doubtless that Jesus was ever so addressed-" where dwellest thou? He saith to
them, Come and see; and they came and saw
where he dwelt, and abode with him that day,
for it was about the tenth hour." If, in his
Gospel, John numbers the hours of the.day
according to the Jewish method of computation, then it must have been late in the afternoon, at four o'clock, having but two hours of
that day to run, that Christ's invitation was
given and accepted. We incline to believe,
however, that John follows not the Jewish but
the Roman method of counting, and if so, then
it was in the forenoon at ten o'clock that the
two disciples accompanied our Lord. And we
are the rather induced to believe so, as it gives
room  for the other incident, the bringing of
Simon to Jesus, to happen during the same
day, which, from the specific and journal-like
character of this part of John's narrative, we
can scarcely help conceiving that it did.
But where and whose was the abode to
which Jesus conducted John and Andrew,
and how were their hours employed? It
coull only have been some house which the




220         THm  FIRST DISOCPLES.
hospitality of strangers had opened for a few
days' residence, to one whom they knew not,
and over all the intercourse that took place
beneath its roof the veil is drawn. It is the
earliest instance this of that studied reserve as
to all the minuter details of Christ's daily life
and conversation upon which we may have
afterwards to offer some remarks. John has
not yet learned to lay his head on that Master's bosom, but already he is sitting at his
feet. And there for all day long, and on into
the quiet watches of the night, would he sit
drinking in our Lord's first opening of his
great message of mercy from the Father. Andrew has something of the restless active spirit
of his brother in him, and so no sooner has he
himself attained a sure conviction that this is
indeed the Christ whom he has found, than he
hurries out to seek his own brother Simon, and
bring him to Jesus. We should have liked
exceedingly to have been present at that interview, to have stood by as Jesus for the first
time looked at Simon, and Simon for the first
time fixed his eye on Jesus. The Lord looks
ulpon Simon and sees all he is, and all that he
is yet to be. His great confession, his three
denials, his bitter repentance, his restoration,




THE FIRST DiscIPis.         221
the great services rendered, the death like that
of his Master, he is to die, all are present to
the thoughts of Jesus as he looks.  " Thou art
Simon," he says at once to him, as if he had
known him from his youth-" Simon the son
of Jona;"  This word Jona, in Hebrew, means
a dove, and it has been thought, fancifully perhaps, that it was with a sidelong reference to
the place of the dove's usual resort that Jesus
said: "Thou art Simon the son of the dove,
which seeks shelter in the rock; thou shalt be
called Cephas, shalt be the rock for the dove to
shelter in." On an after occasion Jesus explained more fully why it was that this new
name of Peter, the Rock, was bestowed. Here
we have nothing but the simple fact before us,
that it was at the first meeting of the two, and
before any converse whatever took place between them, that the change of name was announced; with what effect on Peter we are
left to guess —his very silence, a silence rather
strange to him, the only thing to tell us how
deep was the impression made by this first interview with Christ.
The next day, the fifth from that on which
this chronicling of the days begins, Jesus goes
forth on his return to Galilee, finds Philip by the




222         THE FIRST DI)SCaLEs.
way, and saith to him, "Follow me." Philip
was of Bethsaida. Bethsaida lay at the northern extremity of the Sea of Galilee, not on the
line of Christ's route from Bethabara to Nazareth or Cana. We infer from this circumstance,
that, like John, Andrew, and Peter, Philip had
left his home to attend on the ministry of the
Baptist. On the banks of the Jordan, or afterwards from one or other of his Galilean countrymen, who had already joined themselves to
Christ, he had learned the particulars of his
earlier earthly history. Any difficulty that he
might himself have had in recognizing the Messiahship of one so born and educated, was soon
got over, the wonder at last enhancing the
faith. Finding Nathanael, Philip said to him:
"We have found him of whom Moses in the
law and the prophets did write, Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph." It was a very natural
reply for one who lived so near to Nazareth,
and knew how insignificant a place it was, to
say: "Can there any good thing, any such
good thing, come out of Nazareth?" Come
and see, was Philip's answer. It proved the
very simplicity and docility of Nathanael's
nature, that he did at once go to see. Perhaps, however, his recent exercises had pre



THE FIRST DisCIPLES.       223
pared him for the movement. Before Philip
called him, he had been under the fig-tree, the
chosen place for meditation and prayer with the
devout of Israel. There had he been pondering in his heart, wondering when the Hope of
Israel was to come, and praying that it might
be soon, when a friend comes and tells him
that the very one that he has been praying for
has appeared. With willing spirit he accompanies his friend. Before, however, he gets close
to him, Jesus says, Behold an Israelite indeed,
in whom is no guile! How much of that very
guileless spirit which we have learned to call
by his name is there in Nathanael's answer!
Without thinking that he is in fact accepting
Christ's description of him as true, and so exposing himself to the charge of no small amount of
arrogance, disproving in fact that charge by
the very blindness that he shows to the expression of it, he says, " Whence knowest thou me?"
Our Lord's reply, " Before that Philip called
thee, when thou wast under the fig-tree I saw
thee," we may regard as carrying more with it
to the conscience and heart of Nathanael than
the mere proof that Christ's -eye saw what n(
human eye, placed as he was at the time, could
have seen, but that the secrets of all hearts lay




224         TmE FIRST DISCIPLES.
open tc him with whom he had now to do. Na.
thanael comes with doubting mind, but a guileless heart; and so now, without dealing with it
intellectually, the doubt is scattered by our
Lord's quick glance penetrating into his inner
spirit, and an instant and sure faith is at once
planted in Nathanael's breast.
I am apt to think, from the very form of Nathanael's answer, from the occurrence in it of a
phrase that does not seem to have been a Jewish
synonym for the Messiah, that Nathanael too
had been at the Jordan, and had heard there the
testimony that John had borne to Jesus. Rabbi,
he says, Thou art what I have lately heard thee
called, and wondered at them calling thee," Thou art the Son of God, thou art the King
of Israel." There was something so fresh, so
fervent, so full-hearted in the words, they fell
so pleasantly on the ear of Jesus, that a bright
vision rose before his eye of the richer things
that were yet in store for all that believed on
him. First, he says to Nathanael individually,
because I said unto thee, I saw thee under the
fg-tree, believest thou? thou shalt see greater
things than these;-and then looking on the
others, whilst still addressing himself to him, he
adds:-Verily, verily, I say unto you, Here



THE FnmsT DsCIPIES.       225
after, or rather from this time forward, ye shall
see heaven open, and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man.
You have heard, that a few weeks ago, (n the
banks of the river, the heavens opened for a
moment above my head, and the Spirit was
seen coming down like a dove upon me. That
was but a sign. Believe what that sign was
meant to confirm; believe in me as the Lamb
of God, the Saviour of the world, the baptizer
with the Holy Ghost, and your eye of faith
shall be quickened, and you shall see those
heavens standing continually open above my
head,-opened by me for you; and the angels
of God,-all beings and things that carry on the
blessed ministry of reconciliation between earth
and heaven, between the souls of believers below
and the heavenly Father above,-going up and
bringing blessings innumerable down, ascending
and descending upon the Son of Man. Son of
God,-my Father called me so at my baptism,
the devil tempted me as such in the desert, the
Baptist gave me that name at Bethabara, and
thou, Nathanael, hast bestowed it upon me now
once again; but the name that I now like best,
and shall oftenest call myself, is that of the Son
of Man; and yet I am both, and in being both




226        THE FIRST DISCIPLES.
truly and eternally fulfill the dream of Bethel.
It was but in a dream that your father Jacob
saw that ladder set up on earth, whose top
reached to heaven, up and down which the
angels were ever moving. It shall be in no
dream of the night, but in the clearest vision
of the day,-in the hours when the things of
the unseen world shall stand most truly and
vividly revealed, — you shall see in me that ladder of all gracious communication between
earth and heaven, my humanity fixing firmly
the one end of that ladder on earth, in my
divinity the other end of that ladder lost amid
the splendors of the throne.
At first sight the narrative of these five days
after the temptation, which we have thus followed to its close, has but little to attract. It
recounts what many might regard as the comparatively insignificant fact of the attachment
of five men-all of them  Galileans, none of
them of any note or rank among the peopleto Christ. But of these five men four afterwards became apostles (all of them, indeed, if,
as is believed by many of our best critics, Nathanael and Bartholomew were the same person); and two of them,.Peter and John, are
linked together in the everlasting remembrance




TiE FIRST DISCIPLES.       227
of that Church which they helped to found.
Had the Baptist's ministry done nothing more
than prepare those five men for the reception
of the Messiah, and hand them over so prepared to Jesus, to become the first apostles of
the faith, it had not been in vain. These five
men were the first disciples of Jesus, and in the
narrative of their becoming so we have the history of the infancy of the Church of the living
God, that great community of the saints, that
growing and goodly company, swelling out to
a multitude that no man can number, out of
every kindred, and tongue, and people, and
nation. If there be any interest in tracing the
great river that bears at last on its broad
bosom the vessels of many lands, to some little
bubbling fountain up among the hills; if there
be any interest in tracing the great monarchy
whose power overshadowed the earth, to the
erection of a little organized community among
the Sabine hills; if the traveller regards with
wonder the little gushing stream, or the historian, the first weak beginnings of the Roman
commonwealth; then may the same emotion
be permitted to the Christian as he reads the
page that tells of the first foundations being
laid of a spiritual kingdom, which is to outlive




228         THE FIRST DISCIPLES.
all the kingdoms of this earth, and abide inx its
glory for ever.
Still another interest attaches to the narrative
now before us. It tells us of the variety of
agencies employed in bringing the first of his
disciples to Christ. Two of these five men
acted on the promptings of the Baptist, one of
them on the direct call or summons of our Lord
himself; one at the instance of a brother, one
on the urgency of a friend. It would be foolish
to take these cases of adherence to the Christian cause as typical or representative of the
numbers brought respectively to Christ by the
voice of the preacher, the word of Christ himself, and the agency of relative or acquaintance;
but we cannot go wrong in regarding this variety of agency within so narrow limits, as
warranting all means and methods by which
any can be won to a true faith in Christ.
Whatever these means and methods may be,
in order to be effectual they must finally resolve
themselves into direct individual address.  It
was in this way the first five disciples were
gathered in. By John speaking to two, Jesus to one, Andrew to one, Philip to one. It
is the same species of agency similarly employed which God has always most richly




THEm FIRST DISCIPLES.      229
blessed; the direct, earnest, loving appeal of
one man to his acquaintance, relative, or friend.
How many are there among us who have been
engaged for years either in supporting by our
liberality, or aiding by our actual service one
or other of those societies whose object is to
spread Christianity, but who may seldom if
ever have endeavored, by direct and personal
address, to influence one human soul for its
spiritual and eternal good! Not till more of
the spirit of John and Jesus, of Andrew and
Philip, as exhibited in this passage, descend
upon us, shall we rightly acquit ourselves
of our duty as followers of the Lamb.
But in my mind the chief interest of the passage lies in the conduct of' our Lord himself.
Those five days were not only the birth-time
of the Church, they were the beginning of
Christ's public ministry, and how  does that
ministry open? Silently, gently, unostentatiously; no public appearances, no great works
done, no new instrumentality employed; by
taking two men to live with him for a day, by
asking another to follow him, by dealing
wisely and tenderly and encouragingly with
two others who are brought to him,-so enters
the Lord upon the earthly task assigned to




230         THE FIRST DISCIPLES.
him. Would any one sitting down to devise a
career for the Son of God descending upon our
earth, to work out the salvation of our race,
have assigned such an opening to his ministry,
and yet could anything have been more appropriate to him who came not to be ministered unto but to minister, than this turning
away from being ministered unto by the angels in the desert, to the rendering of those
kindly and all-important services to John and
Andrew and Peter, and Philip and Nathanael?




XI.
THE FIRST MIRACLE.*
AND the third day there was a marriage in
Cana of Galilee. Looking back to the
preceding narrative, you observe that from the
time of the arrival at Bethabara of the deputation from Jerusalem sent to inquire into the
Baptist's character and claims, an exact note
of the time is kept in recording the incidents
which followed. "The next day," i. e., the
first after that of the appearance of the deputation, John sees Jesus coming unto him, and
points him out as the " Lamb of God, which
taketh away the sin of the world." " Again,
the next day after," standing in company with
two of his disciples, John repeats the testimony,
and the two disciples followed Jesus; one of
them, Andrew, going and bringing his own
* John ii 1-12.




232         THE FIRST MIRACLE.
brother Simon; the other, John, sitting at his
new Master's feet.  "The day following," Jesus, setting out on his return to Galilee, findeth
Philip. Philip findeth Nathanael, and so, accompanied by these five (Andrew, John, Peter,
Philip, and Nathanael), Jesus proceeds upon
his way back to his home. Occurring in a
liarrative like this, where the regular succession of events is so accurately chronicled, we
naturally, in coming to the expression, "the
third day,"interpret it as meaning the third
day after the one that had immediately before
been spoken of, that is, the one of Christ's departure from the banks of the Jordan. Two
days' easy travel carry him and his new attendants to Nazareth, but there is no one there to
receive them. The mother of Jesus and his
brethren are at Cana, a village lying a few
miles farther to the north. Thither they follow them, and find that a marriage is being
celebrated there, to the feast connected with
which Jesus and his five disciples are invited.
One of the five, Nathanael, belonged to Cana,
and might have received the invitation on his
own account as an acquaintance of the family
in whose house the marriage-feast was held.
But the others were strangers, only known to




rTE  FIRST MIRACLE.       233
that family as having accompanied Jesus for
the last few days,-their tie of discipleship to
him quite a recent one, and as yet scarcely
recognized by others. That on his account
alone, and in consequence of a connexion with
hiln of such a kind, they should have been at
once asked to be present at an entertainment
to which friends and relatives only were ordinarily invited, would seem to indicate some familiar bond between the family at Nazareth
and the one in which this marriage occurs.
The idea of some such relationship is supported
by the freedom which Mary appears to exercise, speaking to the servants not like a stranger, but as one familiar in the dwelling. Besides, if Simon, called the Canaanite, was called
so because of his connexion with the village of
Cana, his father Alphaeus or Cleophas, who
was married to a sister of Christ's mother, may
have resided there, and it may have been in
his family that this marriage occurred. Could
we but be sure of this,-which certainly is probable, and which early tradition affirms,-. the
circumstance that when Jesus seated himself at
this marriage-feast he sat down at a table
around which mother, and brothers and sisters,
and uncle and aunt, and cousins of his own




234         THE FIRST MIRACLE.
now gathered, it would give a peculiarly do.
mestic character to the scene, and throw a new
charm and interest around the miracle which
was wrought at it. At any rate, we may
assume that it was in a family connected by
some close ties, whether of acquaintance or relationship with that of Jesus, that the marriagefeast was kept.
" And when they wanted wine, the mother
of Jesus saith to him, They have no wine."
The wine, provided only for the original number of guests, began to fail. Mary, evidently
watching with a kind and womanly interest the
progress of the feast, and rightly ascribing the
threatened exigency to the unexpected arrival
of her son and his companions, becomes doubly
anxious to shield a family in which she took
such an interest from the painful feeling of having failed in the duties of hospitality. But why
did Mary, seeing what she did, and feeling as
she did, go to Jesus and say to him, " They
have no wine?"  That she expected him in
some way to interfere is evident; but what
ground had she to expect that he would do so
in any such manner as he did? She had never
seen him work a miracle before. She had no
reason, from past experience, to believe that ho




THE FIRST MIRACLE.        235
would or could make wine at will, or that by
his word of power he would supply the deficiency. She had, however, been laying up in
her heart, and for thirty years revolving all
that had been told her at the beginning about
her son. She had none at Nazareth but Joseph
to speak to; none but he who would have believed her had she spoken. Joseph now is
dead, and she is left to nurse the swelling hope
in her solitary breast. At last the period comes,
when rumors of the great preacher of repentance who has appeared in the wilderness of
Judea, and to whom the whole country is rushing, spread over Galilee. Her son hears them,
and rises from his work, and bids her adieu;
the first time that he has parted from her since
she had lost him in Jerusalem, now eighteen
years ago. What can be his object in leaving
her, his now widowed mother?  She learnsperhaps he himself tells her-that he goes with
other Galileans who want to see and hear the
new teacher, it may be to enroll themselves by
baptism as his disciples. She asks about this
new teacher. Can it be that she discovers him
to be no other than the son of her relative Elizabeth, whose birth was in so strange a manner
linked with that of Jesus? If so, into what a




236         THE FmRST MncIRL
tumult of expectation must she have been
thrown!
But whether knowing aught of this or not,
now at last, after a two months' absence, her
son rejoins her, strangely altered in his bearing; attended, too, by those who, young as he
is, hail him as their Master, and pay him all
possible respect. She scarcely ventures to ask
him what has happened in the interval of his
absence; but them she fully questions; and as
they tell her that John had publicly proclaimed
her son to be no other than He whose coming
it was his great object to announce; had
pointed to him as the Lamb of God, the Son
of God, the Baptizer with the Holy Ghost; as
they tell that they had found in him the Messias, the Christ, of whom Moses in the law and
the prophets did write, and that it was as such
they were now following him,-to what a pitch
of joyful expectation must she have been
raised! Now at last the day so long looked for
has come. Men have begun to see in him, her
son, the Hope of Israel. Soon all Israel shall
hail him as their Messiah. Meanwhile he is here
among friends and relatives; has willingly accepted the invitation given to join this marriagefeast; has lost nothing, as it would seem, of all




THE FmST MmCIR E.          237
his early kindly feelings to those around him.
What will he think, what will he do, if he be
told that owing to his presence, and that of his
disciples, a difficulty has arisen, and discredit is
likely to be thrown upon this family, which has
shown itself so ready to gratify him, by asking
these strangers to share in the festivities of the
occasion? She thinks, perhaps, of the cruse of
oil, of the barley-loaves of the old prophets.
Surely if her son be that great Prophet that is
to appear, he might do something to provide
for this unforeseen emergency; to meet this
want; to keep the heart of this poor, perhaps,
but generous household from being wounded.
But what shall she ask him to do? what shall
she suggest? She will leave that to himself.
She knows how kind in heart, how w-ise in
counsel he is, and believes now that his power
is equal to his will. She modestly contents herself with simply directing his attention to the
fact, and saying to him, " They have no wine."
It is the very delicacy of this approach and
address which renders so remarkable  our
Lord's reply, "Woman, what have I to do
with thee?"-exactly the same form of expression which, on more than one occasion, the
demons, whom he was about to dispossess,




238         THE FIRST MIRACLE.
addressed to Jesus, when they said to him,
What have we to do with thee? or, What
hast thou to do with us, Jesus, thou Son of
God? On their part, such language implied
a repudiation of his interference; a denial of
and a desire to resist his power and authority.
And what can the same form of expression
mean as addressed now by Jesus to his
mother? Interpret it as we may; soften it to
the uttermost so as to remove anything like
harshness; still it is the language of resistance
and reproof. There may have been some
over-haste or impatience on Mary's part; some
motherly vanity mingling with her desire to
see her son exert his power, and reveal his
character before these assembled guests, which
required to be gently checked; but our Lord's
main object in speaking to her as he did, was
to teach Mary that the period of his subjection
to her maternal authority had expired; that
in the new character he had assumed, in that
new sphere of action upon which he had entered, it was not for her, upon the ground simply of her relationship to him, to dictate or
suggest what he should do. There was some
danger of her forgetting this; of her cherishing
and acting on the belief that he was still to be




THE FIRST MIRACLE.        239
her son, as he had been throughout those
thirty by-past years. It was right, it was even
kind, that at very outset she would be guarded
against this danger, and saved the disappointment she might have felt had the limits of her
influence and authority been left vague and
undefined. Jesus would, therefore, have her
to know definitely and from the beginning of
his ministry, that mother though she was as to
his humanity, this gave her no right to interfere
with him as the Son of the Highest, the Saviour
of mankind. Thus gently but firmly does he
repel the bringing of her maternal relationship
to bear upon his Messianic work; thus gently
but firmly does he assert and vindicate his perfect independence, disengaging himself from
this the closest of earthly ties, that he may stand
free in all things to do only the will of his
Father in heaven. This manner of his conduct
to the mother whom he so tenderly loved,
may be regarded as the first of those repeated
rebukes which Jesus gave by anticipation to
that idolatrous reverence which has carried
the human bond into that spiritual kingdom;
carried it even into the heavenly places; exalting Mary as the Queen of heaven; seating
the crowned mother on a throne sometimes on




210         THE FRST MIRACLE.
a level with, sometimes above that occupied by
her Son, teaching us to pray to her as an equal
intercessor with Christ.
" Woman, what have I to do with thee?
Mine hour is not yet come." With him no
impatience, no undue haste, no hurrying prematurely into action. He has waited quietly
those thirty years, without a single trial of that
superhuman strength which lay in him, content to bide till the set time came. And now
he waits, even as to the performance of his
first miracle, till the right and foreseen hour
for its performance has arrived. As to this
act of his power, and as to every act of it; as
to this incident of his life, and as to every incident of it-he could tell when the hour had
not come, and when it had. He who at this
marriage-feast could say to Mary, " Mine hour
is not yet come," could say to the Omniscient
in the upper chamber at Jerusalem, " Father,
the hour is come, glorify thy Son." Mapped
out before his foreseeing eye in all its times,
places, events, issues, lay the whole of his
earthly life and ministry.  The perfect unbroken unity of design and action running
throughout the whole, proclaims a previous
foresight, a premeditated, well-ordered plan.




THE FIRST MIUNCLE.        241
It has not been so with any of those men who
have played the greatest and most prominent
parts on the stage of human history. Their
own confessions, the story of their lives, their
earlier compared with their later acts, all tell
us how little they knew or thought beforehand
of what they finally were to be and do. Instead of one fixed, uniform unchanging scheme
and purpose running through and regulating
the whole life, in all its lesser as well as its
greater movements, there have been shiftings
and changings of place to suit the shiftings and
the changes of circumstance. Surprisals here,
disappointments there; old instruments of action worn out and thrown away, new ones invented and employed; the life made up of a
motley array of many-colored incidents, out of
which have come issues never dreamt of at the
beginning. Was it so with the life that Jesus
lived on earth?  Had he been a mere man,
committing himself to a great work under the
guidance of a sublime, yet purely human, and
therefore weak and blind impulse-had he
seen only so far into the future as the unaided
human eye could carry, how much was there
in the earlier period of his ministry to have
excited false hopes, how much in the latter to




242          THE FIRST MIRXCLE.
have produced despondency! But the people
came in multitudes around him, and you can
trace no sign of extravagant expectation. The
tide of popular favor ebbs away from him, and
you see no token of his giving up his enterprise in despair. No wavering of purpose, no
change of plan, no altering of his course to suit
new and obviously unforeseen emergencies.
There is progress: a steady advance onward
to the final consummation of the cross and the
burial, the resurrection and ascension; but all
is consistent, all is harmonious. The attempt
has been lately made, with all the resources of
scholarship and all the skill of genius, to detect
a discrepancy of design and expectation between the opening and closing stages of our
Saviour's earthly course. It has failed. I
cannot help thinking that all candid and intelligent readers of that life as we have it in the
Gospels, whatever be their religious opinions
or prepossessions, will acknowledge that M. Renan's failure is patent and complete. If so,
it leaves that life of Jesus Christ distinguished
from all others by a fixed, pre-established, unvarying design.*
* This feature in our Lord's character appears to have strongly
impressed the mind of Napoleon I., as appears from the following
extracts: —




TEE FIRST  MIRACIE.                  243
Our Lord's answer to  Mary  was ill fitted,
we  might imagine, to  foster hope, postponing
"In every other life than that of Christ, what imperfections,
what inconsistencies! Where is the character that no opposition
is sufficient to overwhelm? Where is the individual whose conduct is never modified by event or circumstance, who never yields
to the influences of the time, never accommodates himself to manners or passions that he cannot prevail to alter?
" I defy you to cite another life like that of Christ, exempt from
the least vacillation of this kind, untainted by any such blots or
wavering purpose. From first to last he is the same; always the
same, majestic and simple, infinitely severe dnd infinitely gentle;
throughout a life that may be said to have been lived under the
public eye, Jesus never gives occasion to find fault; the prudence
of his conduct compels our admiration by its union of force and
gentleness. Alike in speech and action, Jesus is enlightened,
consistent, and calm. Sublimity is said to be an attribute of
Divinity; what name then shall we give to him in whose character
were united every attribute of the sublime?
" I know men; and I tell you that Jesus is not a man.
" In Lycurgus, Numa, Confucius, and Mahomet,,I only see legislators who, having attained to the first place in the State, have
sought the best solution of the social problem; I see nothing in
them that reveals Divinity; they themselves have not pitched their
claims so high.
"It is evident that it is only posterity that has deified the
world's first despots, —heroes, the princes of the nations, and the
founders of the earliest republics. For my part, I see in the
heathen gods and those great men, beings of the same nature with
myself. Their intelligence, after all, differs from mine only in
form. They burst upon the world, played a great part in their
day, as I have done in mine. Nothing in them proclaims divinity:
on the contrary, I see numerous resemblances between them and
me.-common weaknesses and errors. Their faculties are such
as I myself possess; there is no difference save in the use that we
have made of them, in accordance with the different ends we had
in view, our different countries and the circumstances of our times.




244               THE FiST MHmCLE
apparently to an indefinite period any inter.
position on his part. And yet she turns instantly  to  the  servants, and  says  to  them:
"Whatsoever he saith unto you, do it."   However surprised or perplexed she may have been,
she appears as confident as ever that he would
interpose. It may have been her strong and
hopeful faith which, notwithstanding the discouraging reply, sustained her expectation;
or there may have been something in the tone
and manner of her son, something in the way
he laid the emphasis as he pronounced the
words, Mine hour is not yet come, which con"It is not so with Christ. Everything in him amazes me; his
spirit outreaches mine, and his will confounds me. Comparison
is impossible between him and any other being in the world. He
is truly a being by himself: his ideas and his sentiments, the truth
that he announces, his manner of convincing, are all beyond humanity and the natural order of things.
" His birth, and the story of his life, the profoundness of his
doctrine which overturns all difficulties, and is their most complete solution, his Gospel, the singularity of this mysterious being, his appearance,his empire, his progress through all centuries and kingdoms, —all this is to me a prodigy, an unfathomable
mystery, which plunges me into a reverie from which there is no
escape, a mystery which is ever within my view, a permanent
mystery which I can neither deny nor explain.
" I see nothing here of man. Near as I may approach, closely
as I may examine, all remains above my comprehension, great
with a greatness that crushes me; it is in vain that I reflect —all
remains unaccountable."-Sentiments de NapolIon sur le C74ristianisne, par le CHEVALIER DE BEAUTEBlNE.




THE FIRST MIRACLE.        245
veyed to her the impression that the hour was
approaching, was near,-a speedy compliance
shining through the apparent refusal. But
why did she give that order to the servants, or
how could she anticipate that it was through
their instrumentality that the approaching
supply was to be conveyed? Without some
hint being given, some word or look of Jesus
pointing in that direction, she could scarcely
have conjectured beforehand what the mode of
his action was to be.
Leaving the mystery which arises here unresolved, as being left without the key to open
it, let us look at the simple, easy, unostentatious way in which the succeeding miracle was
wrought. There stand —at the entrance, perhaps, of the dwelling-six water-pots of stone;
Jesus saith to the servants, Fill the water-pots
with water. They do so, filling them to the
brim. Jesus saith, Draw out now, and bear to
the governor of the feast. They do so; it is
not water, but choicest wine they bear. The
ruler of the feast at once detects it as better
wine than they had previously been drinking,
and addresses the bridegroom. The latter
gives no reply, for he does not know whence or
how this new supply of better wine has come.




246         THE FRST MRACLE.
As little know the guests who partake of it;
nor, perhaps, till the feast is over, and the servants tell what had been done, is it known by
what a miracle of power the festivities of that
social board had been sustained. What a veiling this of the hand and power of the operator!
Imagine only that Jesus had asked the servants,
while the water was water still, to draw it out
and fill each goblet,-had asked each guest to
lift up his cup and taste, and see what kind of
liquid it contained,-and then, by a word of his
power, had turned the crystal water into the
ruddy wine. With what gaping wonder would
every one have then been filled! Instead of
this, ordering it so that what came to the guests
appeared to come through the ordinary channel, without word or touch, aught said or done,
in obedience to an inward volition of the Lord.
the water hidden in the vessels is changed instantaneously into wine. There was the samt,
dignified ease and simplicity, the same absence
of ostentation, about all Christ's miracleqs
proper to him who used not a delegated but an
intrinsic power.
Struck with the manner in which Christ met
the domestic need anid protected the family
character, we must not overlook the largeness




TEm FIRST MIRACLE.       247
of the provision that he made. At the most
moderate computation, the six water-pots must
have held far more than enough to meet the
requirements of the marriage-feast; enough of
wine for that household for many months to
come. In the overflowing generosity of his
kindness, he does so much more than Mary
would have asked or could have conceived.
And still, to all who feel their need and come
to him to have their spiritual wants supplied,
he does exceedingly abundantly above all that
they ask, and all that they can think.
When the governor of the feast had tasted
the new-made wine, he called the bridegroom,
and said to him, " Every man at the beginning
doth set forth good wine; and when men have
well drunk, then that which is worse; but thou
hast kept the good wine until now."  He knew
not whence that better wine had come; he knew
not to whom it was they owed it; he knew not
that, in contrasting as he did the custom of
keeping the best wine to the last, with that
commonly followed at marriage-feasts, he was
but showing forth, as in a figure, the way in
which the Spiritual Bridegroom acts to all those
who are called to the Marriage Supper of the
Lamb. Not as the world giveth, gives Jesus to




248         TmHE FIRST MIRACLE.
his own. The world gives its best and richest
first. At the board which it spreads thie viands
may not fail; nay, may even grow in number
and improve in quality, but soon they pall on
the sated appetite, and the end of the world's
feast is always worse and less enjoyable than the
beginning. Who has found it so of the provisions of a Saviour's grace; of those quiet,
soothing, satisfying pleasures, that true faith in
him imparts? The more of these that any one
receives, the more he enjoys them. The appetite grows with the food it feeds upon; the
relish increases with the appetite; better and
better things are still provided, and of each
new cup of pleasure put into our hands, turning to the heavenly Provider, we may say,
Thou hast kept the good wine even until now.
This the beginning of his miracles, did Jesus
in Cana of Galilee. The miracle lay in the instantaneous transmutation of water into wine.
And yet the water with which those waterpots were filled, and in which this change was
wrought, might have been drawn from the well
of a vineyard, and instead of being poured into
these stone vessels, might have been poured out
over the soil into which the vine-plants struck
their roots, and by these roots might have been




THE FIRST MIRACLE.         249
drawn up into the stem, and through the
branches been distilled into the grapes, and out
of the grapes been pressed into the vat, and in
that vat, have fermented into wine. And thus,
by the many steps and secret processes of nature might that water without a miracle. as we
say, have been converted into wine. But is
eacl step or stage of that natural transmutation less wonderful? does it show inferior wisdom? is it done by a feebler power? Just as
little can we explain the process as spread out
into multiplied details in the great laboratory
of nature, as when condensed into one single
act. And just as much should we see the divine hand and power in the one. as in the other.
He who sees God in the one —the miracle, and
not in the other, the processes of nature-has
not the right faith in God. If we did not believe that God was operating throughout, working everywhere; his will and power the spring
and support of every movement in the material
creation, we should not believe that he is operating here or there, in this miracle or in that.
It is because we believe in the universal agency
of the living God, that we are prepared to believe in that agency in any singular form that
it occasionally may take. There is, indeed, a




250         THE FIRST MIRCLE.
difference between a miracle and any of the
ordinary operations of nature; a difference not
in the agent, not in the power, but simply in
the manner in which the power and agency are
employed. In the one, the hand of the Great
Operator works slowly, uniformly, doing the
same things always in the same way; his footsteps follow each other so surely and so.regularly, that by a delusion of the understanding,
we come to think that the things that follow
each other so uniformly are not only naturally
but necessarily linked to one another,-the one
by some imagined inherent power drawing the
other after it; needing no power but their own
to bind them together at the first, or keep
them bound together afterwards. Wherever
there is orderly succession-and it pervades
the whole universe of material things-we can
classify the different processes that go on, and
so reach what we call the laws of nature, which,
after all, are but expressions of the orderly
manner in which certain results are brought
about; but to these laws, as if they were living
things, and had a vital power and energy belonging to them, we come to attribute the actual accomplishment of the results. It happens
thus that the works of his hands in the midst




THE FmRST MIRACLE.        251
of which we live, and which for his glory and
our good, the Great Creator and Sustainer
makes to move on with such fixed and orderly,
stately and beautiful array, instead of being a
clear translucent medium  through which we
see him, become often as a thick obscuring veil,
hiding him from our sight. Hence the use of
miracles, that He who worketh all in all, and
worketh thus, should sometimes break as it
were this order, that through the rent we might
see the hand which had been hidden behind
that self-constructed veil.
And yet when we speak thus of a miracle as
a breaking-in upon the ordinary and established
course of nature, let us not think of it as if it
were discord thrust into a harmony; something
loose, irregular, disjointed, coming in to mnar
the beautiful and orderly progression. In that
harmonious progression, the lower ever yields
to the higher. The vital powers, for instance,
in plants and animals, are ever modifying the
mechanical powers, the laws of motion; the
will of man comes in, in still more striking
manner, to do the same thing with all the powers and processes of nature. You do not say
that such crossings and counteractions of lower
by higher laws disturb the harmony of nature;




252         TEm FIRST MIRACLE.
they go to constitute it. And we believe that
just as falsely as you would say that the order
of nature was broken, the law of gravitation
was violated, when the sap ascends in the stem
of the tree, and is distributed upwards through
its branches; just as falsely is it said of the
miracles of Christianity, that they break that
order, or violate any of nature's laws; for did
we but know enough of that spiritual kingdom
for whose establishment and advancement they
were wrought, we should perceive that here
too there was law and order, and that what we
now call miracles were but instances of the
lower yielding to the higher; that the grand,
unbroken harmony of the vast universe, material, mental, moral, spiritual, may be sustained
and promoted.
This beginning of miracles did Jesus in Cana
of Galilee, and manifested forth his glory. The
glory that was thus revealed lay not so much
in the forthputting of almighty power (for it is
ani inferior glory that the bare exercise of any
power, though it be divine, displays), as in the
manner in which the power is exercised, the
ends it is put forth to accomplish. Power appears here as the handmaid and minister of
Loving Kindness, and gathers thus a richer




THE FIRST MIRACLE.          253
glory than its own around it. Never let' us
forget that the first act of our Lord's public life
was to grace a marriage by his presence. By
doing so, he has for ever cdnsecrated that and
every other human bond and relationship.
And the first exercise of his almighty power
was to minister to the enjoyment of a marriagefeast. He who would not in the extremity of
hunger employ his power to procure food for
himself, put it forth to increase the comforts of
others. By doing so, he has for ever consecrated all the innocent enjoyments of life. It
will not do to say, that his example here is no
pattern to us; that what was safe for him
might be injurious to us; for he not only accepted the invitation for himself, but took his
disciples along with him to the marriage-feast.
There is something peculiarly striking and instructive in our Lord coming so directly from
consort with the austere ascetic preacher of
the wilderness, and carrying along with him
these first disciples, the majority of whom had
been John's disciples before they were his, and
seating them by his side at this festive board.
Does it not teach what the genius and spirit
of his religion is? That it affects not the desert; that it shuns not the fellowship of man;




254        THE FIRST MIRACLE.
that it frowns not on social joys and pleasures;
that it rejoices as readily with those who rejoice as it weeps with those who weep; ready
to be with us in our hours of gladness, as well
as in our hours of grief. Let no table be
spread to which He who graced the marriagefeast at Cana could not be invited; let no
pleasure be indulged in which could not live in
the light of his countenance. Let his presence
and blessing be with us and upon us wherever
we go and however we are engaged; and is
the way not open by which the miracle of
Cana may, in spirit, be repeated daily still,
and the water of every earthly enjoyment
turned into the very wine of heaven'




XII.
THE CLEANSING OF THE TEMPLE.*
T  HE miracle at the marriage-feast drew a
marked line of distinction between Jesus,
the Baptist, and the austere Essenes, those
eremites who dwelt apart, shut up in a kind of
monastic seclusion, and who renounced the use
of wine, condemned marriage, and denounced
all bodily indulgence as injurious to the purity
of the spirit. By acting as he did at Cana, Jesus at the very outset of his career placed himself in direct opposition to the strictest class of
pietists then existing,-in direct opposition to
the spirit and practice of those in all ages who
have sought, by withdrawal from the world
and estrangement from all objects of sense, to
cultivate communion with the unseen, to rise
to a closer intercourse with and nearer resemblance to the Deity.
* John ii. 12-21; Matt. xxi. 10-17.




256    THE CLEANSING OF THE TEMPLrE.
One effect of this first display by Jesus of
his supernatural power was a strengthening of
the faith of the men who had recently attached
themselves to him.  " His disciples," it is said,
" believed in him." They had believed before,
but they believed more firmly now. The
ground of their first faith had been the testimony of the Baptist. Their faith had grown during the few days of private intercourse with
Jesus which succeeded, and now, by the manifestation of his power and glory, it was still
more strengthened. It was still, as later trial
too clearly proved, weak and imperfect. But
their minds and hearts were in such a condition that they lay open to the influence of additional light as to their Master's character, additional evidence of his authority and power.
But there were other spectators of the miracle
upon whom it exerted no such happy influence.
After the Marriage-feast at Cana broke up,
" Jesus and his mnother, and his brethren, and
his disciples went down to Capernaum." This
is the first mention of those brethren of Christ
who appear more than once in the subsequent
history, always associated with Mary, as forming part of her family, carefully distinguished
from the apostles and disciples of the Lord.




THE CLEANSING OF THE TEMPLE.    257
They are represented on one occasion as going
out after him, thinking he was beside himself;
and when he was told that Mary and they
stood at the outskirts of the crowd desiring to
see him, he exclaimed, " Who is my mother,
ari: who are my brethren? Whosoever shall
do the will of my Father who is in heaven,
the same is my brother, and sister, and
mother." On another occasion, the Nazarines
referred to them  when, astonished and offended, they said to one another, " Is not this
the carpenter's son? is not his mother called
Mary, and his brethren James, and Joses, and
Simon and Judas? And his sisters, are they
not all with us?" John tells that at a still
later period, in the beginning of the last year
of our Lord's ministry, these relatives taunted
him, saying, " If thou do these things, show
thyself to the world; for neither did his brethren believe in him." Had we been reading
these passages for the first time, we should
scarcely have understood them otherwise than
as referring to those who were related to Jesus
as children of the same mother. This would
of course imply that Mary had other children
than Jesus, an idea to which from the earliest
period there seems to have been the strongest




258    THE CLEANSING OF THE TEMPLE.
repugnance. Resting  upon the well-known
usage which allowed the term brother and sister to be extended to more distant relationships, and upon the acknowledged difficulty
which arises in connexion with the names of
our Lord's brothers as given by the Evangelists, both the Greek and the Latin Churches,
though adopting different theories as to the
exact nature of the relationship, have indignantly repudiated the idea of Mary's having
any but one child, and have regarded those
spoken of as his brothers as being either his
half-brothers, sons of Joseph by another marriage, or his cousins, the children of Mary's
sister, the wife of Alphaeus or Cleophas. It
would be out of place here to enter upon the
discussion of this difficult question. I can only
say that, after weighing all the objections
which have been adduced, I can see no sufficient reason for rejecting the first and most
natural reading of the passages I have referred
to, for not believing that they were brothers
and sisters of Jesus, who grew up along with
him in the household at Nazareth. Perhaps
our readiness to admit this may partly spri-ng
from our not sharing the impression that there
is anything in such a belief either derogatory




THE CTLANSING OF THE TEMPLE.    259
to the character of Mary, or to the true dignity
of her first-born Son.
Whoever they were, and however related
to him, these brethren of the Lord, his nearest
relatives, who had all along been living, if not
under the same roof, yet in close and intimate
acquaintance with him, sat beside his disciples
at that marriage-feast, and saw the wonder that
was done, and they did not believe. As
months rolled on, they saw and heard of still
greater wonders wrought in the presence of
multitudes. Residing with Mary at Capernaum, they lived in the very heart of that commotion which the teaching and acts of Jesus
excited. Neither did they then believe. Their
unbelief may have been in part sustained by
Christ's having ceased to make their home his
home, and chosen twelve strangers as his close
and constant companions and friends. Nor
did any of them believe in Jesus all through
the three years of his ministry. But it is
pleasing to note that, though so long and so
stubbornly maintained, their unbelief did at
last give way; you see them in that upper
room to which the apostles retired after witnessing the ascension: "And when they were
come in, they went up into an upper room,




260    THE CLANSINGC OF THE TEMPLE.
where abode both Peter and James, and John
and Andrew, Philip and Thomas, Bartholomew and, Matthew, James the son Alphaeus,
and Simon Zelotes, and Judas the brother of
James. These all continued with one accord
in prayer and supplication with the women,
and Mary the mother of Jesus, and with his
brethren." How many an apt remark on the
peculiar barriers which the closer ties of domestic life often oppose to the influence of the
one Christian member of a household, and on
the peculiar encouragement which such a one
has to persevere, might be grounded upon the
fact that it was not till after his death that our
Lord's own immediate relatives believed in
him.
When the marriage-feast at Cana was over,
Jesus and his.mother, and his brethren, and
his disciples went down to Capernaum. Of
this town we shall have more to say hereafter,
when it became the chosen centre of our Lord's
Galilean ministry. One advantage of the short
visit that Jesus now paid to it was, that it put
him on the route along which the already gathering bands of visitors from Northern Galilee
passed southwards to the capital. The Passover was at hand, and Jesus went up to




TmE CLEANSING OF THE TEMPLE.    261
Jerusalem. Hitherto, though some time had
passed (two or three months perhaps, but there
are no materials for exactly determining) since
his baptism, and the public proclamation of his
Messiahship, Jesus had taken no public step,
none implying any assumption on his part of
the office to which he had been designated.
Of the few men who attended him, there was
but one whom he had asked to follow him; nor
was it yet understood whether he and the rest
were to accompany him for more than a few
days. The miracle at Cana was rather of a private and domestic than of a public character.
Nothing that we know of was said or done by
Jesus at Capernaum, or throughout the short
visit to Galilee, to indicate his entrance on a
public career.
But now he is in Jerusalem, in the place
where most appropriately the first revelation
of himseIf in his new character is made. Let
us acknowledge that it is not in the form in
which we should have expected it; nor in that
forln in which any Jew of that age would ever
have imagined that the Messiah should first
show himself. We may be able, by meditating
a little upon it, to see more of its suitableness
than at first sight appears. But even a first




262    THE CLEANSING OF THE TEMPLE.
glance reveals how utterly unlike it was to the
popular Jewish conception of the advent of the
Messiah. One of the first things our Lord does
at Jerusalem is to go up into the Temple. He
passes through one of the gates of its surrounding walls. He enters into the large open area
which on all sides encompasses the sacred edifice. What a spectacle meets his eye 1 There,
all round, attached to the walls, are lines of
booths or shops in which money-changers are
plying their usurious trade. The centre space
is crowded with oxen and with sheep exposed
for sale, and between the buyers and the sellers
all the turbulent traffic of a cattle-market is going on. It goes on within the outer enclosure,
but close upon the inner buildings of the Holy
Place; so close that the loud hum from the
crowded court of the Gentiles must have been
heard to their no small disturbance by the
priests and worshippers within. How comes
11 this? and who is responsible for this desecraLion of the Temple? The origin of it in one
sense was natural enough. At all the great
festivals, but especially at the Passover, an
almost inconceivable number of animals were
offered up in sacrifice. Josephus tells us of
more than two hundred thousand victims sacri



THE CLEANSING OF THE TEMPLE.   263
ficed in the course of a single Passover celebration. The greatest proportion of these were
not brought up from the country by the offerers,
but were purchased on their arrival at Jerusalem. An extensive traffic, yielding no inconsiderable gain to those engaged in it, was thus
created. Some open area for conducting it was
needed. The heads of the priesthood, to whom
the custody of the Temple was committed, saw
that good rents were got for any suitable market-ground which the city could supply. They
were tempted to fill their own coffers from this
source. Jerusalem could furnish no place so
suitable for the exposure of the animals as the
Court of the Gentiles. What more convenient
than that the victims should be purchased in
the very neighborhood of the place where they
were to be offered up? The greed of gain prevailed over all care for the sanctity of the Temple. The Court of the Gentiles was let out to
the cattle-dealers, and a large amount was thus
added to the yearly revenue of the Temple.
Still another source of gain lay open, and was
taken advantage of. Every one who came up
to the Passover, and desired to take part in the
festival, had to present a half-shekel of Jewish
money to the priests. This kind of money was




264    TiH CLEANSING OF THE TErz&L.
not now in general use; it was scarce even in
Judea, unknown beyond that land. Nothing,
however, but the half-shekel of the sanctuary
would be taken at the Temple. To supply
themselves with the needed coin, visitors had
to go to the money-changer. And where can
he find a fitter place to erect his booth and set
out his table than within the very area in which
the larger traffic was going on? He offers so
much to the priesthood to be permitted to do
so; the bribe is taken, and the booth and the
tables are erected. And so, amid a perfect
Babel of tongues, and thronging, jostling
crowds of men and beasts, the buying and the
selling and the money-changing are all going
on.
Into the heart of this tumultuous throng
Jesus enters. Of the many hundreds there,
few have ever seen him before; few know anything about him, either about his baptism in
the Jordan, or his late miracle at Cana. He
appears as a stranger, a young man clad in the
simple garb of a Galilean peasant, without any
badge of authority in his hand. He looks
around with an eye of indignant sorrow, pours
out the changers' money, overthrows their
tables, forming a scourge of small cords drives




THE CLEANSING OF THE TEMPLE.   265
the herds of cattle before him, and mingling
consideration with his zeal, says to them who
sold the doves, "Take these things hence;
make not my Father's house a house of merchandise." Why is it that at the touch of his
slender scourge, and the bidding of this youthful stranger, buyers and sellers stop their traffic,
the money-changers suffer their money to be
rudely handled, and their tables to be overturned? The slightest resistance of so many
against one would have been sufficient to have
arrested the movement. But no such resistance
is attempted, no opposition is made, by men
not likely from their occupation to be remarkable for mildness of disposition or pliability of
character. How are we to explain this? We
can understand how, at the last Passover, at
the close of his ministry, when Jesus, then so
well known, so generally recognized by the
people as a prophet, repeated this cleansing of
the Temple, there should have been a yielding
to his authoritative command. But what are
we to say of such an occurrence taking place at
the very commencement of his ministry, his
first public act in Jerusalem? It is a mysterious power which some men, in time of excitement, by look and word and tone of command,




266    THE CLEANSING OF THE TEMPLE.
can exercise over their fellow-men. But grant
that rare power in its highest degree to Jesus,
it will scarce account for this scene in the Court
of the Gentiles at Jerusalem. It would seem
as if, in eye and voice and action, the divine
power and authority that lay in Jesus broke
forth into visible manifestation, and laid such a
spell upon those rough cattle-drivers and those
cold calculators of the money-tables, that all
power of resistance was for the time subdued.
It would seem as if it pleased him to exert here
within the Temple the same influence that he
did afterwards in the Garden, when he stepped
forth from the darkness into the full moonlight,
and said to the rough band that advanced with
their lanterns and swords and staves to take him,
"I that speak unto you am he;" and when at
the sight and word they reeled backward and
fell to the ground, the effect in both cases
was but temporary. High priests and officers
were soon upon their feet again; and, wondering at their own weakness in yielding to a
power which at the moment they were impotent to resist, proceeded to lay hold upon
Jesus, and lead him away unto Caiaphas. So
was it also, we believe, in the Temple court.
A sudden, mysterious, irresistible power is upon




THE CLEANSING OF THE TFMrLE.    267
that crowd. They yield, they know not why.
But by and by the spell would seem to be withdrawn. Thev soon recover from  its effect.
Nor is it long till, wondering at their having
allowed a single man, and one who had no
right whatever, to interfere with arrangements
made by the chief authorities, and to lord it
over them, they return, resume their occupations, and all goes on as before.
It was with no intention or expectation of
putting an end in this way to the desecration
of the Holy Place that Jesus acted. What,
then, was the purpose of his act?  It was
meant to be a public proclamation of his Sonship to God; an open assertion and exercise
of his authority as sustaining this relation; a
protest in his Father's name against the conduct of the priesthood in permitting this des.
ecration of the Holy Place. It was far more
for the priesthood than for the crowd in the
market-place that it was meant. They were
not ignorant that the chief object of the ministry of the Baptist, with which the whole
country was ringing, was to announce the immediate coming of the Messiah. They had not
long before sent a deputation to the banks of
the Jordan to ask John whether he himself




268    THE CLEANSING OF THE TEMPLE.
were not the Messiah whose near advent he
was foretelling. The members of that deputation heard of the baptism of Jesus; in all
likelihood they had not left the place when Jesus came back from the temptation in the Wilderness, and was publicly pointed to by John
as the greater than himself who was to come
after him, the Lamb of God, the Son of God.
From the lips of the men whom they had sent,
or from the lips of others, they must have
known all about what had happened. And
now here among them is this Jesus of Nazareth;
here he is come up to the Temple, speaking
and acting as if it were his part and office
authoritatively to interpose and cleanse the
building of all its defilements. What else
could the priesthood who had charge of the
Temple understand than that here was claimed
a jurisdiction in regard to it superior to their
own? What else could they understand when
the words were heard, or were repeated to
them, " Make not my Father's house a house
of merchandise," than that here was one who
claimed a relationship to God as his Father,
and a right over the Temple as his Father's
house, which none but One could claim? They
go to him, therefore, or they call him before




THE CLEANSING OF THE _EIPLE.   269
them, and entering, you will remark, into no
justification of their own deed in hiring out the
Temple court as they had done,-entering
into no argument with him as to the rightness
or wrongness of what he had done, rather admitting that if he were indeed a prophet, as
his acts showed that he at least pretended to
be, his act was justifiable; they proceed upon
the assumption that he was bound to give to
them some proof of his carrying a Divine commission, and they say to him, "What sign
showest thou unto us, seeing thou doest those
things?"
He had shown a good enough sign already,
had they read it aright. He was about to show
signs numerous and significant enough in the
days that immediately succeeded; but to such
a haughty challenge as this, coming, as he
knew, from men whom no sign would convince
of his Messiahship, he had but this reply: "Destroy this temple,. and in three days I will raise
it up." A truly dark saying; one that, not
only they did not and could not at the time
understand, but that they were almost certain
to misunderstand, and, misunderstanding, to
turn against the speaker, as if he meant to
claim the possession of a power which he never




270       THE CLEANSING OF THE  TEMPLE,.
could be called upon to exercise. Then said
the Jews, interpreting, as they could scarce fail
to do, his words as applicable to the material
Temple:  " Forty-and-six years has this Temple bean in building, and wilt thou  rear it up
in three days?:'*
Jesus made no attempt to rectify the error
into which his questioners had fallen. He
could not well have done so without a premature disclosure of his death and resurrection, a
thing that he carefully avoided till the time of
their accomplishment drew near. He left this
mysterious saying to be interpreted against
himself. It seems to have taken a deep hold,
to have been widely circulated, and to have
* It is curious that, in saying so, they have left to us one of
the few fixed and certain data upon which we can determine the
year when the public ministry of our Lord began. We know that
the building, or rather rebuilding of the Temple, was commenced
by Herod in the eighteenth year of his reign; that is, speaking
according to the Roman method of counting their years from the
foundation of Rome, during the year that' began in the spring of
734, and ended in that of 735. Forty-six years from this would
bring us to the year 780-781. Historical statements and astronomincal calculations conspire to prove that it must have been between the 13th March and the 4th April, in the year 750, that
Herod died. If Christ were born a few months before that
death, thirty years forward from that time brings us to the year
780, as that in which our Lord's ministry commenced;-the
two independent computations thus singularly confirming one
another.




THE CLEANSING OF THE TExPLE.    271
fixed itself very deeply in the memory of the
people. Three years afterwards, when they
were trying to convict him of some crime in
reference to religion, this first saying of his was
brought up against him, as one uttered blasphemously against the Temple, but the two
witnesses could not agree about the words.
And when the cross was raised, those who
passed by railed on him, saying, " Ah, thou
that destroyest the Temple, and buildest it in
three days, save thyself." Whatever differences there were in the remembrances and
reports of the people, in one thing they agreed,
in the attributing the destruction of the Temple that Jesus had spoken of here, to himself.
But he had not spoken of the destruction as
effected by his own hands, but by those of the
Jews themselves. And he had not had in his
eye the material Temple on Mount Moriah,
but the temple of his body, which they were
to destroy, and which he, three days afterwards,
was to raise from the dead. All this became
plain afterwards, and went, when' his real
meaning stood revealed in the event, mightily
to confirm the faith of his followers. And in
one respect it may still go to confirm ours, for
does not that saying of Jesus, uttered so early,




272    THE CLEANSING OF THE TEMPLE.
-his first word, we may say, to the leaders of
the people at Jerusalem, —does it not, along
with so many other like evidences, go to prove
how clearly the Lord saw the end from the beginning?
The Temple at Jerusalem has long been in
ruimls. In its stead there stands now before us
the Church of the body of Christ, the society
of the faithful. In her corporate capacity, in
her corporate actings, has the Church not acted
over again what the Jews did with their Temple, when she has made merchandise of her
offices and her revenues, and sold them to the
highest bidder, as you would sell oxen in the
market or meat in the shambles? The spirit
which prompts such open sacrilegious acts,
such gross making gain of godliness, is the selfsame spirit which our Lord rebuked; and how
often does it creep into and take hold and
spread like a defiling leprosy over the house of
God? It does so in the pulpit, whenever self,
in one or other of its insidious forms, frames
the speech and animates the utterance; it does
so in the pew, when in the hour hallowed to
prayer and praise, the chambers of thought
and imagery within are crowded with worldly
guests. Know ye not, brethren, that ye are




THE CLEANSING OF THE TEMPLE.   273
the temple of God; and that the temple of
God is holy, which temple ye are? Would
that half the zeal the Saviour showed in cleansing the earthly building were but shown by
each of us in the purifying and cleansing of our
hearts! Truly it is no easy task to drive out
thence everything that defileth in his sight, to
keep out as well as to put out; for, quick as
were those buyers and sellers of old in coming
back to their places in the Temple, and resuming their occupations there, quicker still are
those vain and sinful desires, dispositions, imaginations, which in our moments of excited
zeal we have expelled from our hearts, in returning to their old and well-loved haunts.
The Lord of the temple must come himself to
cleanse it; come, not once or twice, as in the
case of the Temple at Jerusalem; come, not as
a transient visitor, but as an abiding guest;
not otherwise than by his own indwelling shall
these unhallowed inmates be ejected and kept
without, and the house made worthy of Rim
who deigns to occupy it.




XIII.
THE CONVERSATION WITH NICODEMUS.*,-IIRIST'S first visit to Jerusalem, after his
-4J baptism, appears to have been a brief
one; not longer, perhaps, than that usually
paid by those who went up to the Passover.
Besides the cleansing of the Temple he wrought
some miracles which are left unrecorded, but
which we may believe were of the same kind as
his subsequent ones, and these were generally
miracles of healing. Many believed on him
when they saw those miracles performed; believed on him as a wonder-worker, as a man
who had the great power of God at his command; but their faith scarcely went further,
involved in it little or no recognition of his true
character and office. Although they believed
in him, Jesus did not believe in them (for it is
the same word which is used in the two cases).
* John iii. 1-21.




THE CONVERSATION  rITH NICODEMUS.  275
Knowing what was in them, as he knew what
was in all men, undeceived by appearance or
profession, he entered into no close or friendly
relations with them; made no hasty or premature discovery of himself.
But there was one man to whom he did commit himself on the occasion of this first and
short residence in Jerusalem, to whom he did
make such a discovery of himself, as we shall
presently see he never made to any other single person in the whole course of his ministry.
This was a man of the Pharisees, one of the
sect that became the most bitter persecutors of
Christ; a ruler too of the Jews, a man well
educated, of good position, and in high office;
a member of the Sanhedrim. He was one of
the body that not long ago had sent the deputation down to the Jordan to inquire about
the Baptist. He knew all about John's ministry, about his announcing that the kingdom
of God was at hand, that there was One coming after him who was to baptize not with
water but with the Holy Ghost. He had been
wondering what this ministry of John could
mean, when Jesus appeared in the city,
cleansed the Temple, wrought those miracles.
He saw that among the class to which he be



276  THEn CONVERSATION WITH NICODEMUS.
longed, the appearance and acts of the young
Nazarene, who had assumed and exercised
such an authority within the courts of the
Temple, and when challenged had given such
an unsatisfactory reply, had excited nothing
but distrust and antipathy; a distrust and
antipathy, however, in which he did not,
could not share. He could not concur with
those who spake of him as an ignorant rustic,
a mere blind zealot, whom a fit of fanaticism
had driven to do what he did in the Temple;
still less could he agree with those who spake
of him as an impostor, a deceiver of the people.
We do not know what words of Christ's he
heard, what acts of his he witnessed; but the
impression had come upon him, whencesoever
it came, that he was altogether different from
what his fellow-rulers were disposed to believe.
Could this indeed be the man of whom John
spake so much; could this be indeed the Christ,
the Messiah for whom so many were longing?
If he was, what new and higher truths would
he unfold, what a glorious kingdom would ho
usher in! Restless and unsatisfied with things
as they were, all his Pharisaic strictness in the
keeping of the law having failed to quiet his
conscience, and give comfort to his heart, Nico



TiE CONVERSATION  rrTH NICODEnus.  277
demus was looking about and longing for further light. Perhaps this stranger, who has
come to Jerusalem, may be able to help him.
He may be poor and mean, a Galilean by birth,
without official rank or authority; but what of
that, if he be really what he seems, one clothed
with a Divine commission; what of that, if he
can quench in any way this thirst of heart and
soul which burns within? If he could be seen
by him alone, Jesus would surely lay aside that
reserve which he appeared to maintain, and instruct him fully as to the mysteries of the coming kingdom. But how could such a private
interview be brought about? He might send
for him; and sent for by one in his position,
Jesus mlght not refuse to come.'But then it
would be noised abroad that he had been entertaining the Nazarene in his dwelling. Or
he might go to him when he was teaching in
public, but then it would be seen and known
of all men that he had paid him an open mark
of respect. He was not prepared to face
either of these alternatives; he was too timid,
thought too much of what his companions and
friends and the general public of the city might
t'hink or say. Yet he is too eager to throw the
chance away. He must see Jesus, and as his




278 THE CONVERSATION WITH NICODEMUS.
fears keep him from going to or sending for
him by day, he goes by nlight, breaks in upon
his retirement, asks and obtains the audience.
There was something wrong, no doubt, in his
choosing such a time and way for the interview.
It would have been a manlier, more heroic
thing for him to. have braved all danger, and
risen above all fear of man. But whatever
blame we may choose on this ground to attach
to Nicodemus, let it not obscure our perception of his obvious honesty and earnestness, his
intense desire for further enlightenment, his
willingness to receive instruction. He came
by night, but he was the only one of his order
who came at all. He came by night, but it
was not to gratify an idle curiosity, but in the
disquiet of a half-awakened conscience to seek
for peace. Rabbi, he says, as soon as he finds
himself in Christ's presence. He salutes him
with all respect. The Rabbis of the Temple
would have scorned the claim of one so young
in years, unknown in any of their schools, who
had given no proof of his acquaintance with
their laws and their traditions, —to be regarded
as one of them. But the Ruler, in 11 likelihood by many years Christ's senior, and one
who on other grounds might have counted on




THE CONVEnSATION WITH NICODEMUS.  279
being the saluted rather than the saluter, does
not hesitate to address him thus: " Rabbi, we
know that thou art a teacher come from God:
for no man can do these miracles that thou
doest except God be with him."  He shows at
once his respect, his candor, his intelligence,
and his faith. He does not doubt that those
are real miracles which Jesus has been working; he is ready to trace to its true source the
power employed in their accomplishment; he
is prepared at once to acknowledge that the
worker of such miracles must be one sent and
sanctioned by God. In saying so, he knows
that he is saying more than perhaps any other
man of his station in Jerusalem would be ready
to say. He thinks that he says enough to win
for himself a favorable reception. Yet, he is
speaking far below the truth, much under his
own half-formed conceptions and beliefs. It is
but as a teacher, not as a prophet, much less
the great Prophet, that he addresses Jesus.
One might have expected that, having addressed him as such, he would go on to put
the questions to which he presumed that such
a teacher could give replies. But he pauses,
perhaps imagining that, gratified by such a
visit, pleased at being saluted thus by one of




280   THE (OONVEnsRTION WITH NICODEMUS.
the rulers, Jesus will salute him in return, and
save him the trouble of inquiry by making
some disclosures of the new doctrine which,
as a teacher sent from God, he had come to
teach; or by telling him something more
about that new kingdom which so many were
expecting to see set up. How surprised he
must have been when so abruptly, yet so solemnly, without exchange of salutation or word
of preface, Jesus says, "Verily, verily, I say
unto you, Except a man be born again, he
cannot see the kingdom of God." Such a man
as Nicodemus could scarcely have been so
stupid as to believe that, in speaking of being
born again, Jesus meant a second birth of the
body. He is so disconcerted, however, disappointed, perplexed, besides being perhaps a little irritated, by both the manner and the substance of the grave, emphatic utterance-one
which, however general in its terms, was obviously spoken with a direct and personal reference-that, in his confusion, he seizes upon
the expression as the only one that had as yet
conveyed any definite idea to his mind. As
affording him some ground of exception, some
material for reply, and taking it in its literal
sense, he says: How can a man be born again




THE CONVERSATION WrrH NICODEMUTS.  281
when he is old, old as I am? Can he enter
the second time into his mother's womb, and
be born? The wise and gentle teacher in
whose hands he now is, takes no notice of the
folly or petulance of the remark. He reiterates what he had said, modifying. however, his
expressions, so that Nicodemus could not fail
to see of what kind of second birth it was that
he was speaking: "Verily, verily, I say unto
you, Except a man be born of water and of
the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom
of God."
Had Nicodemus only had time at first to
collect his thoughts, he would have remembered that it was no new term, framed now
for the first time, that Jesus had been employing in speaking of a second birth; it being a
proverbial expression with his countrymen
with reference to those who became proselytes
to the Jewish faith, and were admitted as such
into the Jewish community, that they were as
men new-born. The outward mode of admitting such proselytes to the enjoyment of Jewish privileges was by baptism, by washing with
water..John, had adopted this rite, and by
demanding that all Jews should be baptized
with the baptism of repentance, as a prepara



282   THE CONVERSATION WITH NICODEMUS.
tion on their part for the coming of the kingdom, he had in fact already proclaimed, that,
as every heathen man became as a new man
on entering into the commonwealth of Israel,
so every Jewish man must become a new man
before entering into that new kingdom which
the Messiah was to introduce and establish.
It was virtually to symbolize the importance
and necessity of repentance-that change of
*mind and heart which formed the burden of
his preaching, as a qualification in all candidates for admission into the kingdom-that
John came baptizing with water. But he
took great pains to inform his hearers that,
while he baptized with water, there was one
coming immediately, who was to baptize with
the Holy Ghost. Was it likely then, or we
may even say, was it possible that, when Nicodemus now heard Jesus say, "Except a man
be born of water and of the Spirit, he cannot
enter into the kingdom of God," he could fail
to perceive the allusion to the water baptism
of John and the Spirit baptism of the Messiah?
In common with all his countrymen, Nicodemus had assumed that, be it what it might,
come how or when it might, the Messianic
Kingdom would be one within which their very




THE CONVERSATION WITH NICODEMUS.  2S3
birth as Jews would entitle them to be ranked.
The popular delusion John had already, by his
baptism and his teaching, done something to
rectify. The full truth it was reserved for
Jesus to proclaim, and he does it now to Nicodemus. This master in Israel has come to
Jesus to be taught; let him know then that it
is not a new doctrine, but a new life which
Jesus has come to proclaim and to impart. It
is not by knowing so much, or believing in
such truths, or practising such duties that a
man is to qualify himself for becoming a subject
of the spiritual kingdom of Jesus Christ. First
of all, as a necessary preliminary, he must be
born again; born of the Spirit, have spiritual
life imparted, before he can see so as to apprehend its real nature, before he can enter so as
to partake of its true privileges, the kingdom
of God. This kingdom is not an outward or a
national one, not the kingdom of a creed, or
of an external organized community. It is a
kingdom exclusively of the new-born-of those
who have been begotten of the Spirit-of those
who have been born again, not of blood, nor
of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God.
For that which is born of the flesh is flesh, and
that which is born of the Spirit is spirit.




284  THE CONVERSATION WrrIT  NICODEMUS.
A mystic thing it looks to Nicodemus, this
second birth,-this birth of the Spirit; secret,
invisible, impalpable; its origin and issues hidden, remote. Marvel not, says Jesus, at its
mysteriousness.  The night is quiet around
you, not a sound of bending branch or rustling
leaf comes from the neighboring wood; but
now the air is stirred as by an invisible hand;
the sigh of the night-breeze comes through the
bending branches and rustling leaves; you
hear the sound; but who can take you to that
breeze's birthplace, and show you where and
how it was begotten; who can carry you to its
place of sepulchre, and show you where and
how it died? Not that the wind —the air in
motion, —is a whit more willful or capricious, or
less obedient to fixed laws than any other elements, or is chosen upon that account to represent the operations of God's Spirit on the souls
of men. All its movements are fixed and
orderly; but as the movements of an invisible
agent, they elude our observation; nor if you
sought for a material emblem of that hiddenness with which the Holy Spirit works, could
you find in the whole creation one more apt
than that which Jesus used, when he said to
Nicodemus, " The wind bloweth where it list



THE CONVERSATION WITH NICODEMUS.  285
eth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but
canst not tell whence it cometh or whither it
goeth: so is every one that is born of the
Spirit."
Already a dim apprehension of that for
which he was being apprehended of Christ has
begun to dawn upon Nicodemus. H.e receives
the truth as affirmed by Jesus as to the necessity of the new birth. He begins even to
understand something as to its nature. Yet
a haze still hangs over it. He wonders and he
doubts,-giving expression to his feelings in
the question, " How can these things be?"
If Christ's answer may be taken as the best
interpretation of this question, Nicodemus was
now troubling himself not so much either with
the nature or the necessity of the new birth, as
with the manner of its accomplishment; the
kind of instrumentality by which so great an
inward change was to be effected; for, read
aright, our Lord's reply is not only a description of that instrumentality, but an actual employment of it. First, however, a gentle rebuke must be given: Art thou a master of
Israel, and knowest not these things?  Hast
thou forgotten all that is written in the book
of the law and in the prophets, about the com



286 THE CONVERSATION WITH NICODEMUS.
ing of those days in which the Lord would pour
out his Spirit upon all flesh; about the new
covenant that the Lord would then enter into
with his people, one of whose two great provisions was to be this: "I will give them one
heart, and I will put a new spirit within you;
and I will take the stony heart out of their
flesh, and will give them an heart of flesh?"
(Ezek. xi. 19.) What had so often and so long
beforehand been thus spoken of was now about
to be.executed. The Spirit of God was waiting to.do his gracious work, in begetting many
sons and daughters to the Lord. Let Nicodemus be assured of this, on the testimony of one
whose knowledge of the spirit-world was immediate and complete. He had spoken very
confidently about his knowledge of Jesus. We
know, he had said, thou art a teacher sent from
God. Let him listen now to words of equal
confidence, which no mere l{uman teacher,
though he were even sent by God, could well,
upon such a subject, have employed: "Verily,
verily, I say unto thee, We speak that we do
know, and testify that we have seen; and ye
receive not our witness."'This work of the
Spirit in regenerating is connected with another
— my own-in redeeming. The one is but an




THE CONVERSATION WITH NICODEMUS.  287
earthly operation; a work performed within
men's souls: but the other, how high have you
to rise to trace it to its source; how far to go
to follow it to its issues? " If I have told you
these earthly things, and ye believe not, how
shall ye believe if I tell you of heavenly
things?"'And yet who can speak of these heavenly
things as I can do! You take me, Nicodemus,
to be a teacher sent from God, perhaps you
might even acknowledge me as a prophet; but
know me that I am no other than He, the Son
of man, the Son of God, coming down from
heaven, ascending to heaven, but leaving not
heaven behind me in my descent, bringing it
along with me; while here on earth, being still
in heaven. " No man, I say unto thee, hath
ascended up to heaven, but he that came down
from heaven, even the Son of man which is in
heaven.'
And having thus proclaimed the ground and
certainty of his knowledge of all the earthly
and all the heavenly things pertaining to the
kingdom, Jesus goes.on to preach his own gospel beforehand to Nicodemus, taking the lifting
up of the serpent in the wilderness, as the type
to illustrate his own approaching lifting-up on




288   THE CONVERSATION WITH NICODEMUS.
the cross, declaring this to be the great and
gracious design of his death, that whosoever
believeth in him might not perish but have
eternal life: " For God so loved the world, that
he gave his only begotten Son; that whosoever
believeth in him should not perish, but have
everlasting life."
It does not fall within our scope to illustrate
at large or attempt to enforce the great truths
about the one and only manner of entering
into Christ's spiritual kingdom; about the universal need of the Spirit-birth in order to make
this entrance; about his own character and
office; the manner and objects of his death;
the faith which, trusting to him, brings with it
everlasting life; the moral guilt that lies in the
act of rejecting him as a Redeemer; the true
character of that temper of mind and heart
which prompts to faith on the one side, and to
unbelief on the other, which are all brought
out in the discourse of our Lord to Nicodemus.
But it does fall precisely within our present design that I ask you to reflect a moment or two,
— first, upon the Time at which this discourse
was delivered; and next, as to its Effect upon
him to whom it was addressed.
It was delivered weeks or months before the




THE CONVERSATION WITH NICODEMUS.  289
Sermon on the Mount, or any other of Christ's
public addresses to the people.  Standing in
time the first, it stands in character alone.
You search in vain through all the subsequent
discourses of our Lord for any such clear compendious comprehensive development of the
Christian salvation: of its source in the love of
the Fathe~r; its channel in the death of his only
begotten Son; and of the great Agent by
whom it is appropriated and applied. You
search in vain for any other instance in which
the three persons of the Trinity were spoken of
by our Lord consecutively and conjunctly; to
each being assigned his proper part in the economy of our redemption.  It may even be
doubted whether in the whole range of the
apostolic epistles there be a passage of equal
length in which the manner of our salvation
through Christ is as fully and distinctly described.
Delivered thus at the very beginning of our
Lord's ministry, it utters a loud and unambiguous protest against the error of those who
would have us to believe that there was a decided and essential difference between the earlier and later teachings of our Saviour; between the doctrine taught by Christ, and that




290   THE CONVERSATION WITH NICODEMUS.
taught afterwards by his apostles. It is quite
true, that until within a few months of the final
decease accomplished at Jerusalem, our Lord
studiously avoided all reference to his death.
It is quite true, that, in not a single instancenot even where one would most naturally have
expected it —in the prayer that he taught to
his disciples,-is there an allusion by- Jesus to
that death, as supplying the ground of our forgiveness. But that this marked silence is misinterpreted, when it is inferred that he did not
assign to it that place and importance given to
it afterwards, we have here, in this discourse
to Nicodemus, the most convincing proof. I
shall have occasion hereafter to refer to those
considerations by which our Saviour was obviously influenced during the course of his personal ministry in not publicly unfolding the
doctrine of the Cross. Let those, however, who
delight to dwell on the simple and pure morality of the Sermon on the Mount, and to contrast it with the doctrinal theology of the apostles, declaring their preference for the teachings of the Master above that of his disciples,
but ponder well this first of all our Lord's discourses, and they will see that instead of any
conflict there is a perfect harmony.




THE CONVERSATION WITH NICODEMUS.  291
But if he never afterwards unfolded his gospel so plainly or so fully, why did he do so
now; why reveal so much to Nicodemus that
he appears to have withheld from the multitude? Am I wrong in regarding this as due
in part to the very circumstance that this was
a nocturnal and a solitary interview with Nicodemus? No one but this ruler of the Jews
may have heard the words that Jesus spake
that night, and he would be the last man to go
and repeat them to others. There is good
reason to believe that the Gospel of St. John
was written and published some years after
those of the other Evangelists. It is in the
Gospel of St. John alone that the interview
with Nicodemus is recorded. The other Evangelists appear to have been ignorant of it.
How the beloved disciple came to his knowledge
of it, it is not necessary for us to inquire. He
may have received it from the lips of Nicodemus himself. Enough for us to know that it
was not currently reported in the Church till
St. John gave it circulation. At any rate we
may be sure that it remained unknown all
through the period of our Lord's own life. It
was not, then, in violation of the rule that he
acted on afterwards that he spoke now so




292  THE CONVERSATION WITH NICODEMUS.
plainly and fully as he did to Nicodemus. It
was a rare opportunity, one that never perhaps returned, to have before him one so qualified by capacity, by acquirement, by honesty,
by earnestness, to receive the truth; and the
very manner in which the Saviour hastened to
reveal it, is to us the proof that he saw good
soil here into which to cast the seed, and the
proof too how grateful to him the office of his
hand in sowing it.
He knew indeed that the seed then sown
was long to be dormant. For three years there
was no token of its germination. Nicodemus
never sought a second interview with Jesus,
but kept studiously aloof. Once, indeed, and
it is the only sight throughout three years that
we get of him, he ventured to say a word in
the Council against a hasty arrest and condemnation of Jesus, but he met with such a sharp
rebuff that he never opened his lips again. The
memorable words, however, of the midnight
meeting at Jerusalem had not been forgotten.
There was much in them that he could not understand. Who was He who had spoken of
himself as the Son of man, the Son of God,
of his ascending and descending to and front
heaven; of being in heaven even when he




THE CONVERSATION WITH NICODEMUS.  293
stood there on earth?  He had spoken of his
being lifted up, that men might believe in him,
and, believing, might not perish, but have everlasting life. What could that lifting up of
Jesus be, and how upon it could there hang
such issues? Much to perplex here, yet much
to stimulate; for that life, that eternal life, of
which Christ had spoken, was the very life that
above all things he was longing to possess and
realize. In this troubled state of mind and
heart, with what an anxious eye would Nicodemus watch the after-current of our Lord's
history! For a year and a half he had disappeared from Judea; was heard of only as saying and doing wonders down in Galilee. Then
came the final visit to the capital, the great
commotion in the Temple, the raising of Laze.
arus, the seizure, the trial, the condemnation.
Was Nicodemus present, with the rest of that
Council of which he was *a member, on the
morning of the crucifixion? If he was, he must
ingloriously have kept silence, for the vote
was unanimous. I would rather believe, from
what happened on the after part of that day,
that he was not present, did not obey the
hasty summons. With him or without him, the
verdict is given. The license to crucify is ex



294  TmE CONVERSATION WITH NICODEMUS.
torted from the vacillating Governor; the cross
is raised.
At last, the words that three years before
had sounded in the ruler's listening ear, and
which had since been frequently recalled, the
mystery of their meaning unrevealed, are verified and explained. The cross is raised; Jesus
is lifted up. The darkened heavens, the reeling earth, the prayer for his crucifiers, the
promise to the penitent who dies beside him,
the voice of triumph at the close, proclaim the
death of that only begotten Son of God, whom
He had given to be the Saviour of the world.
The scales drop off from the eyes they so long
had covered. Fear goes out, and faith comes
into Nicodemus' breast, a faith that plants him
by Joseph's side in the garden, and unites their
hands in the rendering of the last services to
the body, which they buried in the new sepulchre. 
What a flood of light fell then on the hitherto mysterious words of the Crucified; what a
rich treasure of comfort would the meditation
of them unfold all his life long afterwards to
Nicodemus; and what an honor to him that he
was chosen as the man to whom were first addressed those words which have comforted so




THE CONVERSATION WITH NICODEMUS.  295
many millions since, and are destined to comfort
so many millions more in the years that are to
come: " God so loved the world, that he gave
his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life 1"




XIV.
THE WOMAN OF SAMARIA.*
COMING, as he did, to a community that'.-) had long been accustomed to act in its
corporate capacity as a nation in covenant with
God; coming to be nationally received or nationally rejected as the Messiah; a reception
or rejection which could only be embodied in
some decisive expression of the will of the nation, made through its authorized heads and
representatives,-our natural expectation is
that Christ's public manifestation of himself
would be made principally in Judea and at
Jerusalem. And the actual opening of his
public ministry convinces us that had no check
or hindrance been interposed, had any readiness been shown by the rulers of the people to
look favorably on his character and claims,
Judea and Jerusalem would have been the
* John iv.




TEE WoxAN OF SAI9RA.             297
chief scene of his labors. For before he opened
his lips as a teacher sent from God, to any
Galilean audience or in any provincial synagogue, he presented himself in the capital, and
by a bold and striking act, fitted to draw  all
eyes upon him, asserted his authority within
the Temple, as the house of his Father, which
it became him to cleanse. The bold beginning
was well sustained both by word and deed, but
no favorable impression was made. The only
one of the Rulers who made any approach
came to him by night, and went away to lock
up deep within his breast the wonderful revelation that was made to him. Jesus retired from
Jerusalem, but lingered still in Judea, spending
the summer months which succeeded the Passover in some district of the country, not far
from that in which John was baptizing.* It
seems strange to us that after the sign from
heaven had been given that the greater than he
had appeared, instead of joining himself to
Jesus, as one of his disciples, John should have
kept aloof, and continued baptizing, preserving
* As yet all attempts have failed to identify the Enon near Salim,
to which from the banks of the Jordan John had now removed.
It will, in all probability, be discovered somewhere northeast of
Jerusalem, so situated that the way from it into Galilee lay natnre
ally through Samaria.




298       THE WOMAB OF SAMARLA.
thus a separate following of his own. And it
seems equally strange, that now for a short
time, and for this short time only, our Lord's
disciples-the men who had voluntarily attached
themselves to him, none of whom had as yet
been separated from their earthly callings, or
set apart as those through whom a new order
of things was to be instituted-should also have
er gaged in baptizing, if not at the suggestion,
yet by the permission and under the sanction
of their Master. Whatever reasons we may
assign for the separate baptisms of John and
Jesus being for this short season contemporaneously sustained, they serve to bring out fully
and in striking contrast the character and disposition towards Jesus of the Pharisees on the
one hand, and of the Baptist on the other. At
first, in Judea as in Galilee, the common people heard Christ gladly, and came in great
numbers to be baptized. This for the Pharisees is a new matter of offence, out. of which,
however, they construct an implement of mischief, which they hasten to employ. There can
be little doubt that the question which arose
between John's disciples and the Jews was
stirred by the latter, had respect to the relative
value of the two baptisms, and was intended to




THE WOMAN OF SAMARF'299
sow the seeds of dissension between the two
discipleships. Fresh from the dispute, and
heated by it, some of John's disciples came to
him, and said unto him, evidently with the tone
of men complaining of a grievance by which
their feelings have been hurt: "Rabbi, he
that was with thee beyond Jordan, to whom
thou bearest witness, behold, the same baptizeth, and all men come to him."
We may be all ready enough to acknowledge
the superiority of another to ourselves in regard
to qualities or acts in which we never sought
for prominence or praise. Even as to those
qualities and acts in which we may have ourselves excelled, we may not be unwilling to
confess the superiority of another, provided
that we do not come into direct comparison with
him, in presence of those who embody the expression of their preference in some marked
piece of conduct. But it does subject our
weak nature to an extreme trial when, by his
side, in the very region in which he has attained
extraordinary and unlooked for success, a man
sees another rise whose success so far outstrips
his own as to throw it wholly into the shade.
Remember, now, that the Baptist was but a
man, with all the common infirmities of our




300       THE WoAN OF SA1t.AR
nature clinging to him; that up to the time he
had baptized Jesus, his course had been one of
unparalleled popularity; that from that time the
tide of the popular favor began to ebb away
from him, and to rise around this other, till at
last he hears the tidings, He baptizeth, and all
men now go to him. And then, listen to his
answer to the complaint of his disciples:'; A
man," he said, " can receive nothing, except it
be given him from heaven."'This growing
baptism of Jesus, this lesser baptism of mine,
are both as Heaven has willed. The multitudes that once flocked to me were sent by
God; the power which I had over them I got
from God; and if the Lord who sent and gave
is pleased now to withdraw them from me, to
bestow them upon another, still will I adore his
name. Nor is it bare submission to his will I
cherish. I hear of and I rejoice at the success
of Christ. "Ye yourselves bear me witness,
that I said, I am not the Christ, but that I am
sent before him. He that hath the bride is the
bridegroom: but the friend of the bridegroom,
which standeth and heareth him, rejoiceth
greatly because of the bridegroom's voice.
This my joy therefore is fulfilled. He must
increase, but I must decrease."' Rare and




THE WOMAN OF SAMARIA.       301
beautiful instance of an unenvying humility!
all tile rarer and more beautiful as occurring
not in one of weak and gentle nature, but in
a character of masculine energy, in which are
often to be found only the stronger passions of
humanity. A rare and beautiful sight it is to
see the gentle Jonathan not only give way to
David, as successor to his father's kingdom, but
content to stand by David's side, and live under
the shadow of his throne; but a rarer, I believe, and still more beautiful thing it is to see
the strong-willed Baptist not only make room
for Jesus, but rejoice that his own light, which
had "shone out so brilliantly, enlightening for
a season the whole Jewish heavens, faded away
and sunk out of sight in the beams of the
rising Sun of righteousness." And John's final
testimony upon this occasion to the character
and office of Jesus is as striking as the involuntary display that he makes of his own character, going much beyond what he had said
before, and containing much that bears a singular likeness to what Jesus had shortly before
said of himself to Nicodemus: " He that cometh from above is above all; he that is of the
earth is earthly, and speaketh of the earth; he
that cometh from heaven is above all: and what




302       TiE WOMAN OF SAm.RIA.
he hath seen and heard, that he testifieth; and
no man receiveth his testimony. He that hath
received his testimony hath set-to his seal that
God is true. For he whom God hath sent
speaketh the words of God: for God giveth
not the Spirit by measure unto him. The
Father loveth the Son, and hath given all things
into his hand. He that believeth on the Son
hath everlasting life: and he that believeth not
the Son shall not see life; but the wrath of
God abideth on him."*
Such was the testimony elicited from John
on being told of the large concourse of people
which had gathered round Jesus and his disciples. Very different was the effect which
this intelligence produced in Jerusalem. It
fanned the hostile feeling already kindled in
the breasts of the Pharisees. How that feeling
might have manifested itself had Jesus continued in Judea, his disciples gone on baptizing, and the people kept flocking to them, we
cannot tell. As from one quarter there burst
about this time on tlie head of John the storm
that closed his public career, so from another
quarter might a storm have burst on the head
of Jesus with like effect.
* John iii.




TEE WOMAN OF SEAXRA.         303
Foreseeing the peril to which he might be
exposed, Jesus, "when  he knew  how  the
Pharisees had heard that he made and baptized more disciples than John, left Judea and
departed again into Galilee." His nearest and
most direct route lay through the central district of Samaria. This district was inhabited
by people of a foreign origin, and with a somewhat curious history. When the king of
Assyria carried the Ten Tribes into captivity,
it is said that, in order to fill the void which
their exile created, he brought "men from
Babylon, and from Cuthah, and from Ava, and
from Hamath, and from Sepharvain, and placed
them in the cities of Samaria instead of the
children of Israel; and they possessed Samaria and dwelt in the cities thereof."*  These
certainly were idolaters, worshippers of a
strange medley of divinities, and brought with
themn their old faiths to their new home.
Shortly after their settlement, a frightful
plague visited them, and it occurred fo themselves, or was suggested by the neighboring
Israelites, that it had fallen upon them because
of their not worshipping the old divinity of the
place. In their alarm they sent an embassy to
* 2 Kings xvii. 24.




304       THm  WOMAN OF SAMARIA.
their monarch, who, either humoring or sharing their fears, sent one of the captive Jewish
priests to instruct them in the Israelitish faith.
This faith they at once accepted and professed,
combining it with their old idolatries: " They
feared the Lord," we are told, "and served
their graven images.,'" Gradually, however,
they were weaned from their ancient superstitions. When, under the decree of Cyrus,
the captives of Judah and Benjamin, returning
from Babylon, set about rebuilding the Temple
at Jerusalem, the Samaritans proposed to join
them in the work. The proposal was haughtily rejected, and that rejection was the first of
a long series of disputes. A fresh ground of
offence arose when Manasseh, a grandson of
one, and brother of another High Priest, had,
contrary to the laws and customs of the Jews,
married a daughter of Sanballat, the governor
of the province of Samaria. Called upon to
renounce this alliance and repudiate his wife,
Manasseh, rather than do so, fled from Jerusalem, and put himself under the protection of
his father-in-law.  A considerable number of
the Jews who were dissatisfied with the great
strictness with which Nehemiah was adminis* 2 Kings xvii. 24.




THEm  WOK  OF SAMARI.        305
tering affairs at Jerusalem, followed him. The
Samaritans, thus strengthened in numbers, and
having now a member of one of the highest
families of the priesthood among them, erected
a rival temple on Mount Gerizim, and set up
there a ritual of worship in strict accordance
with the Mosaic institute. Their history from
this time to the time of Christ is a very chequered one. Their territory was invaded by
John Hyrcanus, one of the family of the Maccabees, who plundered their capital, and razing
the stately temple on Mount Gerizim from its
foundations, left it a heap of ruins, so that
when Jesus passed that way, an altar reared
on these ruins was all that Gerizim could
boast.
Notwithstanding all these vicissitudes, and all
the harsh hostilities to which they were exposed,
the Samaritans became purer and purer in their
faith till all relics of their Medo-Persian idolatries had disappeared. They received, as of
Divine authority, the five Books of Moses, the
Pentateuch, but they rejected all the books of
history and prophecies which followed, and
which were full, as the Jews believed, of intimations of the future subjection of the whole
world to Israelitish sway, and the establishment




306     THE WoMAN OF SAMARIA.
of Jerusalem, as the central place of worship,
and the seat of universal empire.
But though the Jews despised the Samaritans as a people of a mixed origin and a mutilated faith, and the Samaritans repaid the contempt, we are not to think that the two communities lived so much apart that there was no
traffic or intercourse between them. There
was little or no interchange of kindly or social
feeling; but it was quite within the limits of
the common usage for the disciples to go into
a Samaritan town, to buy bread for themselves
and their Master by the way.
Their morning's walk had carried Jesus and
his disciples across or along the plain of Mukhna
to the entrance of that narrow valley which
lies between Mounts Ebal and Gerizim. Here,
upon a spur of the latter height, which runs
out into the plain, was Jacob's Well,-the town
of Sychar, the ancient Shechem, the modern
Nablous lying about a mile and a half away,
up in the valley, at the base of Gerizinl. It
was the sixth hour-our twelve o'clock —and
the Syrian sun glared hotly upon the travellers.
Wearied with the heat of the day and the toil
of the morning, Jesus sat down by the wellside, while his disciples went on to Sychar to




THE WoMAN  OF SAMARIA.            307
make the necessary purchases.  As Jesus is
sitting by the well alone, a woman of Samaria
approaches.  He fixes his eye upon her as she
comes near; watches her as she proceeds to
draw the water, waiting till the full pitcher is
upon the well-mouth, and then says to her,
"Give me to drink."  He is a Jew; she knows
it by his dress and speech. Yet, as one willing
to be indebted to her, he asks a favor at her
hands; a favor for which, if his looks do not
belie him, he will be grateful. Not as one unwilling to grant the favor, but surprised at its
being asked, her answer is: " How is it that
thou, being a Jew, askest drink of me, who am
a woman of Samaria?" He will answer this
question, but not in the way that she expects.
The manner of his dispensation of the great
gift he came from heaven to bestow stands embodied in the words: "Thou wouldst have
asked, and I would have given thee the living
water."*
The woman has taken him to be a common
* There is no doubt that the well still shown to travellers near
Nablous, is the well of Jacob. Its position near to Sychar: its
importance as inferred from its dimensions, being a well of nine
feet in diameter and seventy-five in depth: cut out of the solid
rock, with sides hewn and smooth as Jacob's servant's may be sup



308           THE  WOMAN OF SAMARiA
Jew, an ordinary wayfarer, whom thirst and the
fatigue of travel have overcome, forcing him
posed to have left them,-go far, of themselves, to determine its
identity; and the conclusion is confirmed by an undivided, unbroken tradition,-Jewish, Samaritan, Arabian, Turkish, Christian.
Besides the absence of all doubt as to its identity, there is another circumstance which surrounds it with a peculiar sacredness.
It is the one and only limited and well defined locality in Palestine that you can connect with the presence of the Redeemer.
You cannot in all Palestine draw another circle of limited diameter
within whose circumference you can be absolutely certain that
Jesus once stood, except round Jacob's Well. I had the greatest
possible desire to tread that circle round and round, to sit here
and there and everywhere around that well-mouth; that I might
gratify a long-cherished wish. But never was disappointment
greater than the one which I experienced when I reached the spot.
Close by it in early Christian times, they built a church, whose
ruins now cover the ground in its immediate neighborhood. Over
the well itself they erected a vaulted arch, through a small open.
ing in which, travellers, a hundred years ago, crept down into a
chamber ten feet square, which left but a narrow margin on which
to stand and look down into the well. This vaulted covering has
now fallen in, choking up so completely the mouth of the well,
that it is only here and there, through apertures between the
blocks of stone, that you can find an entrance into the well. I
speak of it as I found it last year. It must have been more accessible to travellers even a few years ago; but year by year the
rubbish that is constantly being thrown into it accumulates, and
the opening at the top is becoming more closed. The Mussulmans
of the neighborhood, seeing the respect in which it is held by
Christians, appear to take a pleasure in obstructing and defiling
it. You cannot sit, then, by Jacob's Well, or walk around it, or
look down into its waters. It is stated upon good authority, that
recently the well, and the site around it, have been purchased by




THEm WOMAN OF SAMAR.         309
perhaps unwillingly to ask for water to drink.
He will fix her attention upon himself; he will
stir up her feminine curiosity by telling her that
he who asks has something on his part to give;
that if she only knew who he was, and what
that living water was which he had at command,
instead of stopping to inquire why he had
asked water of her, she would be asking it of
him, and what she asked he without question
would  have  given. Living  water!-better
water than that which she has in her' pitcher.
Could it be by going deeper down, and getting
nearer to the bubbling spring beneath, that he
could get such water, or was it water of superior quality from some other well than this
of Jacob. Sir, she says, addressing him with
awakening interest and an increasing respect:
" Sir," she says, in her ignorance and confusion,
"thou hast nothing to draw with, and the well
is deep: from whence then hast thou that living
water? Art thou greater than our father
Jacob, who gave us the well, and drank thereof
hilnself, and his children, and his cattle?" Her
the Russian Church. Let us hope that they will clear away all the
stones and rubbish, and leave it clear and open, as Jesus found it,
when, weary and way-worn, he sat down beside it.




310       THE WOIAN OF SAMARIA.
thoughts are wandering away back to the first
drinkers at this well, when its waters first burst
out in their freshness, imagining that it must
be of them, or of the water of some other neighboring well, that this stranger had been speaking. Again, waiving as before all direct reply
to her question, Jesus with increased solemnity
says: " Whosoever drinketh of this water shall
thirst again: but whosoever drinketh of the
water that I shall give him shall never thirst;
but the water that I shall give him shall be in
him a well of water springing up into everlasting life." It is not this water, then; it is no
common water; it is water that this man alone
can give; water which is not to be taken in
draughts, with which you may quench your
thirst now, and then wait till the thirst comes
back again ere another draught be taken; but
water of which a man should constantly be
drinkinrg, and if he did so would be constantly
satisfied, so that there would be no recurring
intervals of desire and gratification,-this water
as received turning into a well within the man
himself, sprinlging  up into everlasting life. Beginninlg to understand a little, seeiing this at
least, that it was of some element altogether
different from any water that she had ever




THE WOMAN OF SAMARIA.       811
tasted, yet clinging still to the notion that it
must be some kind of material water that he
means,-she says: "Sir, give me this water,
that I thirst not, neither come hither to draw."
One part of Christ's object has now been
gained; he has awakened not an idle, but a
very eager curiosity; he has forced the woman's attention on himself as having some great
benefit in his hand which he is not unwilling to
bestow. Through a figurative description of
what this benefit is, he will not or cannot carry
her further at present. Abruptly breaking
the conversation off at this point, he says to
her: "Go, call thy husband, and come hither."
With great frankness she says, " I have no husband.'; Jesus said to her, " Thou hast well
said, thou hast no husband, for thou hast had
five husbands, and he whom thou now hast is
not thy husband; in that saidst thou truly."
In the past domestic history of this woman
there had been much that was peculiar, though
up to the last connexion she had formed there
may not have been anything that was sinful.
Christ's object, however, was not so much to
convict her of bygone or existing guilt, as to
convince her that he was in full possession of
all the secrets of her past life, and so to create




312     Tinm WoAN OF SAMAIA.
within her a belief in his more than human insight. Not so much as one overwhelmed with
the sense of shame, but rather as one surprised
into a new belief as to the character and capabilities of the stranger who addresses her, she
replies, "Sir, I perceive that thou art a prophet." If she had been a woman of an utterly
abandoned character, whose whole bygone life
had been one series of flagrant offences, whose
conscience, long seared with iniquity, Christ
was now trying to quicken,-very curious would
it appear that so soon as the quickening came,
waiving all questions about her own character,
she should so instantly have put the question
about the true place of religious worship,
whether here at Gerizim, or there at Jerusalem.
There may have been an attempt to parry
conviction, and to turn aside the hand of the
convincer, by raising questions about places
and forms of worship; but I cannot think, had
this been the spirit and motive of this woman's
inquiries, that Jesus would have dealt with them
as he did; for, treating them evidently as the
earnest inquiries of one wishing to be instructed,
assuming all the dignity of that office which
had been attributed to him, he says to her:




THE WoxEN OF SAMARIA.       313
Woman, believe me, the hour cometh-(I speak
as one before whose eye the whole history of
the future stands revealed; the hour cometh,I came myself into the world to bring it on)when that strong bias to worship, that lies so
deep in the hearts of men, shall have found at
last its one only true and worthy object in that
God and Father of all, who made all, and who
loves all, and has sent me to reveal him to all;
when, stripped of all the restraints that have
hitherto confined it to a single people, a single
country, a single town; relieved of all the supports that were required by it in its weak and
tottering childhood,-the spirit of a true piety
shall go forth in freedom over the globe, seeking for those-whatever be the places they
choose, the outward forms that they adopt,for those who will adore and love and serve
him in spirit and in truth, and wherever it finds
them, owning them as the true worshippers of
the Father. Woman, believe me, the hour
cometh, when neither in this mountain nor yet
in Jerusalem, nor here, nor there, nor anywhere exclusively, shall men worship the
Father. " God is a Spirit; and they that worship him, must worship him in spirit and in
truth." The newness, the breadth, the sub



314       THE WOMAN OF SAMARTA,.
limity, if not also the truth of his teaching, at
once suggested to the mind of the listener the
thought of that Messiah for whom every Samaritan and Jew alike were looking. I know,
she said, that Messias cometh. When he is
come he will tell us all things. Jesus saith to
her: " I that speak to thee am he."
Why was it that that which he so long and
studiously concealed from the Jewish people,
that which he so strictly enjoined his disciples
not to make known to them, was thus so simply, clearly and directly told? In the woman
herself to whom the wonderful revelation was
made, there may have been much to draw it
forth. The gentle surprise with which she
meets the request of the Jewish stranger; the
expression of respect she uses so soon as he
begins to speak of God, and some gift of his
she might enjoy; her guileless confession when
once she found she was actually in a prophet's
presence: her instant readiness to believe that
Jew though he was-apparently of no note
or mark among his brethren-he was yet a
prophet; her eager question about the most
acceptable way of worshipping the Most High;
the quick occurrence of the coming Messiah to
her thoughts; the full, confiding, generous




TiE WoKM OF SAMARIA.         315
faith, that she once reposed in him when he
said, I that speak unto thee am he: her forgetfulness of her individual errand to the well;
her leaving her pitcher there behind her; her
running into the city to call all the men of Sychar, saying, Come, see a man who told me all
things that ever I did, is not this the Christ?all conspire to convince us that, sinful though
she was, she was hungering and thirsting after
righteousness, waiting for the consolation of
Israel, we trust prepared to hail the Saviour
when he stood revealed.
But besides her individual character, there
was also the circumstance that she was a Samaritan. It is the first time that Jesus comes
into close, private, personal contact with one
who is not of the seed of Israel; for though she
claimed Jacob as her father, neither this woman nor any of the tribe she belonged to, were
of Jewish descent.  "I am not come," said
Jesus, afterwards defining the general boundaries of his personal ministry, " but to the lost
sheep of the house of Israel."  When he sent
out the Seventy, his instructions to them were:
"Go not into the way of the Gentiles, and into
ally city of the Samaritans enter ye not."'; And
yet there were a few occasions, and this is the




316       THE WOMAN OF SAARY.
first of them, in which Christ broke through
the restraints under which it pleased him ordinarily to act. I believe that there are just four
instances of this kind recorded in the Saviour's
life: that of the woman of Samaria, of the
Roman Centurion, of the Canaanitish woman,
of the Greeks who came up to Jerusalem. All
these were instances of our Lord's dealings with
those who stood without the pale of Judaism,
and as we come upon them in the narrative, we
shall be struck with the singular interest which
Jesus took in each; the singular care that he
bestowed in testing and bringing out to view
the simplicity and strength of the desire towards
him, and faith in him. that were displayed; the
fullness of the revelations of himself that he
made, and of that satisfaction and delight with
which he contemplated the issue. It was the
great and good Shepherd, stretching out his
hand across the fence, and gathering in a lamb
or two from the outfields, in token of the truth
that there were other sheep which were out of
the Jewish fold, whom also he was in due time
to bring in, so that there should be one fold and
one shepherd.
Our idea, that it was this circumstance, —her
Samaritan nationality,-which lent such inter



Tim WomN OF SAMABIA.        317
est, in our Saviour's own regard, to his interview with this woman by the well-side, is confirmed by casting a glance at its result. Jesus
at their entreaty turned aside, and abode two
days with the Sycharites. You read of no sign
or wonder wrought, no miracle performed, save
that miracle of knowledge which won the woman's faith. Though no part of it is recorded,
his teaching for those few days in Sychar was,
in its general character, -like to his teaching by
the well-mouth, and on the ground alone of the
truthfulness, the simplicity, the purity, the
spirituality, and the sublimity of that teaching,
many believed on him, declaring they knew
that this was indeed the Christ, the Saviour of
the world.
The phrase is so familiar to the Christian ear,
that we may fail to mark its singularity as coming from the lips of these rude Samaritans.
No Saviour this for Jew alone, or Samaritan
alone; for any one age or country. Not his
the work to deliver from mere outward thralldom, to establish either in Jerusalem or elsewhere any temporal kingdom: his the wider
and more glorious office to emancipate the human spirit, and be its guide to the Father of the
spirits of all flesh. Compare the notions which




318     THE WoamN OF SAMARIA.
these simple villagers had of the Messiah, with
those prevalent among the Jews; compare
with them any of the most intelligent of our
Lord's apostles up to the day of Pentecost, and
your very wonder might create doubt, did you
not remember that it was not from the books
of Daniel and Zechariah and Ezekiel, the books
from which the Jews by false interpretations
derived their ideas of the Messiah's character
and reign, that the Samaritans derived theirs,
but from the Pentateuch alone, the five books
of Moses; and when you turn to the latter,
and look at the prophecies regarding Christ
which they contain, you will find that the two
things about him to which they point,-that he
should be a prophet sent from God, and that
his office should have respect to all mankind,
that to him should the gathering of the people
be, and that in him should all families of the
earth be blessed,-were the very two things
that the faith of these Samaritans embraced
when they said, " We know that this is indeed
the Christ, the Saviour of the world."
The conversation by the well, the two fruitful days at Sychar, what is the general lesson
that they convey? That wherever Christ finds
an opening listening ear, he has glad tidings




THE WoK OF SlARIA.          319
that he is ready to pour into it; that wherever
he finds a thirsting soul, he has living waters
with which he delights to quench its thirst;
that to all who are truly seeking him, he drops
disguise, and says, "Behold, even I that speak
unto you, am he;" that wherever he finds
minds and hearts longing after a revelation of
the Father, and the true mode of worshipping
him, to such is the revelation given. Had you
but stood by Jacob's well, and seen the look
of Jesus, and listened to the tones of his voice;
or had you been in Sychar during those two
bright and happy days, hearing the instructions
so freely given, so gratefully received, you
would have had the evidence of sense to tell
you with what abounding joy to all who are
waiting and who are willing, Jesus breaks the
bread and pours out the water of everlasting
life. Multiplied a thousandfold is the evidence
to the same effect now offered to the eye and
ear of faith. Still from the lips of the Saviour
of the world, over all the world the words are
sounding forth: "If any man thirst, let him
come to me and drink."  Still the manner of.his dispensation of the great gift stands embodied in the words: "Thou wouldst have
asked, and I would have given thee the living




320      THE WoMAN OF SAMARIA.
water." And still these other voices are heard
catching up and re-echoing our Lord's own
gracious invitation: "And the Spirit and the
bride say, Come. And let him that heareth
say, Come. And let him that is athirst come.
And whosoever will, let him take the water
of life freely."




xv.
THE JEWISH NOBLEMAN AND THE ROMAN CENTURION.*
SEATED by the side of Jacob's well, and
seeing the Samaritan woman draw water
out of it, Jesus seizes on the occasion to discourse to her of the water of life. So soon as
she hears from his own lips that he is the Messiah, this woman leaves her water-pot behind
her, and hurries into the neighboring city to
announce to others the great discovery which
has been made to her. She has scarcely left
the Saviour's side, ere his disciples present
themselves with the bread which they had
bought in Sychar, offering it, and saying to
him, "Master, eat." But, as if hunger had
gone from him, and he cared not now for food,
he answers, " I have meat to eat that ye know
not of." Wondering at his manner, his appear* John iv. 46-54; Luke vii. 1-10.




322        THE RorAN CENTURION.
ance, his speech, so different from what they
had expected, the disciples say to one another
-it is the only explanation that occurs to them
-" Hath any man brought him aught to eat?"
Correcting the false conception, our Lord
replies: " My meat is to do the will of him
that sent me, and to finish his work." He had
been eating that meat, he had been doing that
will, while they were away; and so grateful
had it been to him to be so engaged, so happy
had he been in instructing a solitary woman,
and sending her away, in full belief in his Messiahship, to go and bring others to him, that,
in the joy of a spirit whose first desire had been
granted to it, the bodily appetite ceases to
solicit, and the hunger of an hour ago is no
longer felt. She is gone, but already foreseeing all, he anticipates her return,-hears and
acts upon the invitation given, has the fruit of
these two productive days at Sychar before his
eyes, looking upon the few sheaves then gathered in as the first-fruits of a still wider, richer
harvest. The idea of that harvest filling his
mind, he looks over the fields around him, and
blending the natural and the spiritual together,
he says to his disciples: " Say not ye, There
are yet four months, and then cometh harvest?




THE JEWISH NOBLEMAN.          323
Behold, I say unto you, Lift up your eyes, and
look on the fields, for they are white already to
harvest. And he that reapeth receiveth wages,
and gathereth fruit unto life eternal: that both
he that soweth and he that reapeth may rejoice
together. And herein is that saying true, One
soweth, and  another reapeth."  How  many
contrasts as well as analogies between the husbandry of nature and the husbandry of grace
do these words set forth! The sower ic the
fields of nature has always four months to wait;
such is the interval in Palestine between seedtime and harvest. In those other fields in
which Jesus is the chief sower, as in the very
corner of them at Sychar, sometimes the seed
has scarcely sunk into the soil ere it springs up
ready for the reaper's hands. Then not seldom
the ploughman overtakes the reaper, and the
reapers and the sowers go on together. And
yet there is often, too, an interval; nor is it
always even generally true that it is he who
sows who reaps. Nowhere is the common
proverb, that one soweth and another reapeth,
oftener verified than here. In the spiritual
domain it is the lot of some to do little else all
their lives than sow, to sow long and laboriously
without seeing any fields whitening unto the




324        TBE Row~  CENTumIoN
harvest; it is the lot of others to have little else
to do than gather in the fruits of others' labors;
or, looking at the broad history of the world
and of the church, can we not mark certain
epochs which we would particularly characterize
as times of sowing, others as times of reaping,
sometimes separated by wide intervals, sometimes running rapidly into one another? But
whether they be the same or different agents
that, are employed in the sowing and in the
reaping; whether longer space intervene, or
the sowing and the reaping go together, one
thing is true, that when the harvest cometh,
and the everlasting life, towards which all the
labor has been tending, is reached, then shall
there be a great and mutual rejoicing,-the
gladness of those to whom it is given to see
that their labor has not been in vain in the
Lord.
It has always been a question whether there
was any allusion made or intended by Christ to
the actual condition of the fields around him as
he spake. I cannot but think, though it be in
opposition to the judgment of some of our first
scholars, that there was. Jesus was speaking
at the time when there were as yet four months
unto the harvest. If it were so, then we have




THE ROMA CENTURION.       325
good ground for settling at what period of the
year this visit of our Lord to Sychar took place.
The harvest in Palestine begins about the middle of April. Four months back from that
time carries us to the middle of December, the
Jewish seed-time. If so, the interval between
the first Passover at which our Lord had his
conversation with Nicodemus, which took place,
as we know, at the commencement of the early
narvesr, and the conversation with the woman
of Samaria, an interval of no less than eight
months, were spent by Jesus in Judea, giving
to the rulers of the people a privileged opportunity of considering Christ's character and
claims. Nothing but disappointment, neglect,
indifference, or alienation, having been manifested, Jesus retired to Galilee, taking Samaria
by the way. The two days at Sychar presented a striking contrastto his reception in
Judea. How will they stand in comparison
with the reception that awaits him in Galilee?
Cana lies farther north than Nazareth. The
road to the one would lead close to, if not
through the other. On this occasion Jesus
appears to have passed by Nazareth. Perhaps
it was to avoid such a reception as he knew to be




326      THE JEWISH NOBLEMAN AND
awaiting him there, or it may have been simply
because Mary and the family had shifted. their
residence, and were now living near their relatives at Cana. The rumor of the first miracle
which he had wrought there some months before
may have spread widely in the neighborhood.
It was done, however, so quietly, and in such a
hidden manner, that one can well conceive of
different versions of it going abroad. It was
different with those reports which the Galileans
who had been up at the last Passover brought
back from Jerusalem. Our Lord's miracles
there, whatever they were, were done openly;
many had believed because of them. The Galileans who were at the feast had seen them all,
and on their return home had filled the country
with the noise of them, all the more gratified,
perhaps, that he who had drawn all eyes upon
him at Jerulsalem was one of themselves. And
now it is told abroad that he has come back
from Judea and is at Cana.
The tidings reach the ear of a nobleman in
Caperllaum, a Jew of high birth connected with
the court of Herod Antipas, at the very time
that a grievous malady is on his son, and has
brought him to the very brink of death. lie
had not heard, perhaps, that Jesus had restored




TmE RouAN CENTURION.       327
the dying to health; so far as we know, the
healing of his son may have been the first miracle of that kind which Jesus wrought but he
has heard of his turning the water into wine, he
has heard of the wonders wrought at Jerusalem.
He by whom such miracles had been done
should be able to rebuke disease. It is at least
worth trying whether he will or can. The distance to Cana is but a short one, some twenty
miles or so. He will send no servant, he will
go himself, and make the trial. IHe went, saw
Jesus, told him his errand, and besought him
that he would come down and heal his son. Why
was it that before Jesus made any reply, or gave
any indication of his purpose, he said, as the
fruit of some deep inward thought which the
application had suggested, "Except ye see signs
and wonders ye will not believe?"  It was because he saw all that was in that man, all the
motives by which he had been prompted to this
visit; the strong affection for his son, which
Jesus will not rebuke; his willingness to be at
any pains on his behalf, to seek help firom any
quarter; his partial faith in Christ's power to
help — for without some faith of this description,
he would not have come at all; yet the absence
of all deeper faith springing from a sense of




328      THE JEWISH NOBLEMAN AND
spiritual disease, which should have brought the
man to Jesus for himself as well as for his son,
and which should have taught him to look to
Jesus as the healer of the soul. It was because he
saw in this nobleman a specimen of his countrymen at large, and in his application a type and
prelude of the multitude of like applications
afterwards to be made to him.
It may have served to suggest this the
more readily to Christ's thoughts, and give the
greater intensity to the emotion excited within
his breast, that he had just come from Sychar,
where so many had believed in him without
any sign or wonder done, believed in him as
a teacher sent from God, believed in him as the
Messiah promised to their fathers. What a
contrast between those simple-minded, simplehearted, Samaritans, whose love and wonder,
faith and penitence, joy and gratitude had been
so quickly, so purely, so exclusively awakened,
and this nobleman of Capernaum and his Galilean fellow-countrymen! We know that Jesus
never returned to Sychar, though he must
more than once have passed near to it on his
way to and from Jerusalem. We know that
he gave positive instructions to the seventy to
go into no city of the Samaritans. It was in




THE ROMzAN CENTURION.       329
fulfillment of his design that his personal ministry should be confined to the lost sheep of the
house of Israel, that he laid this restraint
upon himself and his disciples. But can we
think that it cost him  no self-denial, that it
was with no inward pang that Jesus turned
away from those who showed themselves so
willing to receive, to those who were for ever
asking a sign from heaven, and who, " after he
had done so many miracles, yet believed not
in him?" (John xii. 37.) Why was it, then,
that when the Pharisees came forth, and began
to question him, seeking of him a sign from
heaven, "he sighed deeply in his spirit, and
said, Why doth this generation seek after a
sign?" (Mark viii. 12.) The deep sigh came
from the depth of a spirit moved and grieved
at this incessant craving for outward seals and
vouchers, this unwillingness to believe in him
simply on the ground of his character and his
doctrine. Though he did not meet the peculiar demand of the Pharisees, who, unsatisfied
even with his other works, sought from him a
special sign from heaven, our Lord, we know,
was lavish in the performance of miracles, supplied willingly and largely that ground of faith
which they afforded, appealed often and openly




330      THE JEWISH NOBLEMAN AND
to the proof of his divine mission which they
supplied. Yet all this is consistent with his
deploring the necessity which required such a
kind of evidence to be supplied, and his mourning over that state of the human spirit out of
which the necessity arose. "The works that
I do, bear witness of me, that the Father hath
sent me." "If I do not the works of my
Father, believe me not. But if I do, though
ye believe not me, believe the works."*
Such was Christ's language openly addressed to
the rulers of the people at Jerusalem. Nor
was it differently that he spoke to his disciples
in private: "Believe me that I am  in the
Father, and the Father in me: or else believe
me for the very works' sake."t  Jesus would
rather have been  believed in without the
works, would rather that he had not had the
works to do in order to win the faith. It is
not, then, a faith in the reality of miracles, nor
in him simply as the worker of them, nor in
anything he was or said or did that rests exclusively upon his having performed them,
which constitutes that deeper faith in himself
to which it is his supreme desire to conduct us.
And when we read of Jesus sighing when signs
* John v. 36; x. 37, 38.   t John xiv. 11.




TmE RoAN CENTURION.         331
were asked, and sighing as miracles were
wrought by him, we cannot interpret his sighing otherwise than as the expression of the
profound grief of his spirit over those who are
so little alive to the more spiritual evidence
that his character and works carried along with
them, as to need to have these outward props
and buttresses supplied. There are two differ.
ent kinds of faith-that which you put in what
another is, or in what another has said, because
of your own personal knowledge of him and
your perception of the intrinsic truthfulness
of his sayings, and that which you cherish because of certain external vouchers for his truthfulness that he presents. Jesus invites us to
put both these kinds of faith in him, but the latter and the lower in order to lead on to the former and the higher, the real abiding life-giving
faith in Him as the Saviour of our souls.
"Except ye see signs and wonders, ye will
not believe." We are scarcely surprised that
the nobleman of Capernaum, when his eager
entreaty was met in this way, by the utterance
of so broad an aphorism, should have felt some.
what disappointed and chagrined. There was
some hope for him, indeed, had he reflected on
it, in the words that Christ had used; for if




332      THE JEWISH NOBLEMAN AND
Jesus had not meant to do this sign and wonder, he would not have spoken as he did. But
the father is in no mood to take up and weigh
the worth and meaning of Christ's words.
What he wants is that Christ should go down
with him immediately to Capernaum; he has
some hope, that if there, he may be able to
cure his son. He has no idea of a healing
wrought at a distance, effected at Cana by a
word of the Lord's power, an act of the Lord's
will. "Sir," he says, "come down ere my
child die:" a tinge of impatience, perhaps of
pride, yet full of the good compensatory element, strong parental love. " Jesus saith unto
him, Go thy way; thy son liveth." It is the
first time, it is one of the few instances in which
Jesus stood face to face with earthly rank and
power. Perhaps this nobleman presumed on
his position, when he said, with something of
an imperative tone, " Sir, come down ere my
child die." If so, he must have been not a little astonished to find the tone of command
rolled back upon him thus: " Go thy way. thy
son liveth." How high above the nobility of
earth rises the royalty of heaven! This is the
style and manner of Him who saith, and it is
done; who commandeth, and creation through




Tai  RoMAN CENTURION.     333
out all its borders obeys. None ever did such
works on earth as Jesus did; none ever did
them in such a simple, easy, unaffected manner;
the manner becoming one who was exerting
not a delegated but a native power.
The manner and the substance of the declaration told alike at once upon the nobleman.
It satisfied him that the end of his visit was
gained. He believed in the word of Jesus,
that the death he dreaded was not to come upon his son, that the child he loved so tenderly
was to be spared to him. How exactly this
had been brought about he did not as yet know.
Whether the cure had been instantaneous and
complete, or whether the crisis of it had
passed, and the recovery had begun; whether
it had been by his possession of a superhuman
knowledge, or by his exercise of a superhuman
power, that Jesus had been able to announce
to him the fact, "Thy son liveth,"-he neither
stayed, nor did he venture to ask any explanation. It was enough for him to be assured of
the fact, and there was something in the manner in which that Go thy way had been spoken,
which forbade delay. He meets his servants
by the way, bearers of glad tidings.  With
them he can.use all freedom. He asks all




334      THE JEWISH NOBLEMAN AND
about the cure, and learns that it had not been
slowly but instantaneously that the fever had
gone, and at the time at which it had done so
was the very time at which these words of
Jesus, " Thy son liveth," had been spoken at
Cana. He had gone out to that village but
half a believer in Christ's power in any way to
help, limiting that power so much in his conceptionl that it had never once occurred to him
that Jesus could do anything for him unless he
saw the child. But now he feels that he has
been standing in the presence of One, the extent of whose power he had as much underrated
as the depth and the tenderness of his love.
Awe, conviction, gratitude, fill his soul. A
double sign and wonder has been done in
Israel. A child has been cured of a fever at
Capernaum by one standing miles away at
Cana, and a father has been cured of his unbelief,-the same kind of power that banished
the disease from the body of the one, banishing
distrust from the heart of the other.
How far above all that he had ever asked!
I is child was dying when the father left Capernaum, was still nearer death when he arrived at Cana; had Jesus done what the father
wanted, and gone down with him to Caper



TimE 1Row  CENTURION.       335
naum, his son might have been dead ere they
got there. The word of power is spoken, and
just as the disease is clasping its victim in a last
embrace, it has to relax its grasp, take wings
and fly away. The father has gone unselfishly,
affectionately, on an errand of love, seeking
simply his child's life, not asking or caring to
get anything himself from Christ. But now
in this Jesus he recognizes a higher and greater
than a mere healer of the body: spiritual life
is breathed into his own soul. Nor is this all;
he returns to Capernaum to tell all the wonders
of the cure; tells them to the healed child, who
also believes,-and strange would be the meeting afterwards between that child and Jesus, —
he tells them to the other members of his family, and each in turn believes. He himself believed, and with him all his house,-the first
whole household brought into the Christian
fold.
Let us compare for a moment this case with
that of the Centurion. Both plead for others;
the one for his child, the other for his servant,
and the pleading of both is signally successful;
the compliance prompt and generous. Such
honor does Jesus put on all kindly intercession
with him on behalf of those to whom we are




336      THE JEWISH NOBLEMAN AND
bound by ties of relationship and affection. In
both the cases, too, Christ adopts the unusual
method of curing at a distance, curing by a
word. But the treatment of the two applicants is different; suited to the state, the character, the necessities of each. The one's faith
is limited and weak, and needs to be expanded
and strengthened; the other's is strong, and
waits only to be exhibited in combination with
that humility which covers it as with a crown
of glory. The one man, little knowing wheat
Christ can do for him, and impatient at what
looks like a repulse, says in his haste, Sir, come
down ere my child die. The other, having a
boundless faith in Jesus, ventures not at first
to prescribe any special mode of cure, but
contents himself with sending some elders of
the Jews to ask that Christ's healing power
should be exercised on behalf of his servant.
Jesus goes not with him who asks him to do so,
having a far greater thing to do for him than
to comply with his request. But he no sooner
gets the message delivered by deputy front the
other, than he says, I will come and heal him,
and sets off instantly on the errand. But he
knew that he should be arrested by the way.
He knew that the Roman Centurion had such




THE ROMAN CENTURION.       337
a sense of his own unworthiness that he shrank
from receiving him into his house; he knew
that he had such confidence in his power, that
all he wanted was that Jesus should will it and
his servant should be cured. He knew  that
there was a humility and a faith in the breast
of this Gentile officer-the first Gentile that
ever applied to him —such as was not to be
found in any Israelitish bosom. It was to
bring these before the eyes of his fellow-countrymnen, and to hold them up for admiration
and rebuke, that he did not at the first act as
he had done at Cana, but made that movement
towards the Centurion's dwelling.
Wonderful, indeed, the faith embodied in the
message which the Centurion sent: I, a Roman
officer, have a limited authority, but within its
limits this authority is supreme. I can say unto
one of my soldiers, Go, and he goeth; to another,
Come, and he cometh; to my servant, Do this,
and he doeth it. But thou, Jesus, art supreme
over all. As my soldiers are under me, so under
thee are all the powers and processes of nature.
Thou canst say-to this disease, Come, and it
cometh; to that other disease, Go, and it goeth;
to thy servants Life and Death, Do this, and they
do it. Say thou then but the word, and my




338     THE JEWISH NOBLEMAN AND
servant shall be healed. And Jesus marvelled
when he heard the message, and he turned about
and said to the people that followed him,-it
was very much for their sakes that he had arranged it so, that so many peculiarities should
attend this miracle, and such a pre-eminence be
given to this first exhibition of Gentile faith in
him, —I say unto you, I have not found so great
faith, no, not in Israel. It was the highest exercise of human faith in him that Jesus had
yet met with, and he wondered and rejoiced
that it should be found beyond the bounds of
Israel. Midway between the Gentile and the
Jew stood the woman of Samaria; outside the
bounds of Judaism stood this Roman Centurion.
Was it to prefigure the great future of the gathr
ering in of all people, and nations, and tongues,
and tribes, that so early in his ministry such manifestation of a faith in the Saviour was made?
But while wondering with Christ at the beautiful exhibition of humility and faith in a quarter so unlooked-for, let us take home the warning with which Jesus followed up the expression
of his approval and admiration: "And I say
unto you, that many shall come from the east
and west, and shall sit down with Abraham, and
Isaac, and Jacob, in the kingdom of heaven;




TmH  RoMAN CmETuOIoN.      339
but the children of the kingdom shall be cast
into outer darkness, there shall be wailing and
gnashing of teeth."  Surely from the lips of the
living and compassionate Redeemer words of
such terrible import never would have passed,
had the warning they convey not been needed.
Let it then be the first and most earnest effort of
each of us to enter into this kingdom, of which
nominally and by profession we are the children,
in all humility, and with entire trust in Christ
our Saviour, lest the opportunity for entering
in go past, and the door be shut-shut by Him
who shutteth, and no man openeth.




xVI.
THE POOL OF BETHESDA.*
r OULD we ascertain what the feast was to
\-J which Jesus went up, and at which he
healed the man beside the Pool of Bethesda, it
would go far to settle the question as to the
length of our Lord's public ministry; but after
all the labor that has been bestowed on the
investigation, it remains still uncertain whether
it was the Passover, or one of the other annual
festivals. If it was the Passover-as, upon the
whole, we incline to think it was, as John mentions three other Passovers, one occurring before, and two after this one —Christ's ministry
would come to be regarded as covering a space
of about three years and a half; if it were one
or other of the lesser festivals, a year or more,
according to the festival which is fixed upon,
*John v.




THE POOL OF BETHESDA.       341
must be deducted from that period. This
much, at least, appears certain, that it was our
Lord's second appearance in Jerusalem after
his baptism, and that it occurred at or near the
close of a year, the most of which had been
spent in Judea. On the occasion of this second
visit, Jesus went one Sabbath-day to walk
through the cloisters or colonnades that were
built round a large swimming bath, called the
Pool of Bethesda. Tradition has for many ages
pointed to a large excavation 360 feet long, 130
feet broad, and 75 feet deep, lying outside the
north wall of the Harem enclosure, and near to
St. Stephen's Gate, as having been this pool.
The peculiar character of its masonry establishes the fact that it must have been intended
originally as a reservoir for water. At one of
its corners there are two arched openings or
vaults, one twelve, the other nineteen feet
wide, extending backward to an unknown distance, forming part, it may have been, of the
porches of which the Evangelist speaks. These
porches, on the day on which Jesus visited
them, were crowded. They formed one of the
city resorts; and besides numbers of others
that frequented them for the ordinary use of
the waters, there lay around a great multitude




342       THE POOL OF BETHESDA
of the blind, the halt, the withered, waiting for
the moving of the water.
If we accept the account given in the fourth
verse of the fifth chapter, the moving of the
water, and the healing virtue temporarily bestowed upon it during the period of its commotion, were due to angelic agency. The
verse, however, is wanting in many of the
most ancient manuscripts, and has come now to
be very generally regarded as an interpolation
very naturally inserted by the early transcribers
of the Gospel, as embodying the expression of
what was then the popular belief. We are disposed the rather to go in with this view, when
we consider how unlike to angelic influence is
the kind of agency here attributed to it as elsewhere described in Holy Writ, and how singular
it would have been had the healing power
been so bestowed that it should be restricted to
the single person who first stepped in. Of itself this would not be sufficient ground on
which to reject the idea of a supernatural
agency having been employed, but if the verse
alluded to did not form part of the original
writing of the Evangelist, then we are left at
liberty to believe that this was a pool supplied
by an intermittent spring, which at certain




THE POOL OF BETHESDA.       343
seasons, owing to the sudden formation of particular gases, bubbled up, throwing the whole
water of the reservoir into commotion, impregnated for the time with qualities which had a
healing power over some forms of disease-a
power of course greatly magnified in the popular idea. But whether the verse, and the explanation which it contains of the moving of
the water, be accepted or rejected, the narrative of what Jesus said and did remains untouched.
Wandering through these crowded porches,
and looking at the strange array of the diseased
waiting there for the auspicious moment, the
eye of Jesus rests on one who wears a dejected
and despairing look, as if he had given up all
hope. Thirty-eight years before, the powers
of life and motion had been so enfeebled that it
was with the greatest difficulty, and at the slowest pace, he could creep along the ground.
His friends had got tired perhaps of helping
him otherwise, and as their last resource, had
carried him to the porches of the pool, and left
him there to do the best for himself he could.
And he had done that best often and often, yet
had failed. Every time the troubling of the
water came, he had made the effort;'but every




344       THE POOL OF BETHESDA.
time he had seen some one of more vigor and
alertness, or better helped, get in before him
and snatch the benefit out of his hands. Jesus knew all this: knew how long it had been
since the paralytic stroke first fell on him;
how long it was since he had been brought to
try the efficacy of these waters; how the expectation of cure, at first full and bright, had
been gradually fading from his heart. To rekindle the dying hope, to fix the man's attention
on himself, Jesus bends over the bed on which
he lies, looks down at him, and says, Wilt thou
be made whole? Were the words spoken in
mockery? That could not be; a glance at the
speaker was sufficient to disprove it. But the
question surely would not have been asked had
the speaker known how helpless was he to
whom it was addressed. He said, " I have no
man, when the water is troubled, to put me
into the pool, but while I am coming another
steppeth down before me." As he gives this
explanation, he looks up more earnestly into
the stranger's face-a face he had never seen
before-and gathers a new life and hope from
the expression of sympathy, the look of power
that countenance conveys.
"Jesus saith unto him, Rise, take up thy bed,




THE POOL OF BETHESDA.       34S
and walk." The command was instantly obeyed.
The cure was instantly complete. The short
time, however, that it had taken for him to
stoop and lift the mattress on which he lay, had
been sufficient for Jesus to pass on, and be lost
among the crowd. The stopping, the question,
the command, the cure, all had been so sudden,
the man has been so taken by surprise, that he
doubts whether he would be able to recognize
that stranger if he saw him again. Lifting his
bed, and rejoicing in the new sensation of recovered strength, he walks through the city
streets in search of his old home and friends.
The Jews —an expression by which, in his Gospel, John always means, not the general community, but some of the ecclesiastical heads and
rulers of the people-the Jews see him as he
walks, and say to him: "It is the Sabbath-day;
it is not lawfill for thee to carry thy bed."  No
answer could be more natural, as no excuse
could be more valid, than that which the man
g.tve when he said: " He that made me whole, the
same said unto me, Take up thy bed and walk."
His challengers do not ask him anything about
the healing-as soon as they hear of it, they
suspect who the healer was-but fixing upon
the act in which the breach of the Sabbath lay,




346       THE POOL OF BETHESDA.
and as if admitting the validity of the man's
defence, in throwing the responsibility of that
act upon him who had ordered him to do it,
"They asked him, What man is that which said
unto thee, Take up thy bed and walk?" He
could not tell, and so the conversation by the
wayside dropped.
Soon after, the healed man is in the Temple,
thanking God, let us believe, for the great mercy
bestowed upon him. Jesus, too, is there; but
they might have passed without the healed recognizing the healer. It was not the purpose,
however, of our Lord that it should be so. Finding the man among the worshippers, he says to
him, " Sin no more, lest a worse thing come unto
thee." Nothing more seenls to have been said;
nothing more to have passed between the
two; but that short sentence, what a light it
threw upon the distant past!-reminding the
man that it had been to the sins of his youth
that he had owed the eight-and-thirty years of
infirmity that had followed; and what a solemn
warning did they carry as to the future!-reminding him that if, on being restored to
strength, he should return to sin, a still worse
thing than so many years of bodily infirmity
might be in store for him. Jesus gives this




TEi POOL OF BETHESDA.      347
warning, and passes on. Recognizing him at
once as he who had cured him beside the pool,
the man inquires about him of the bystanders,
and learns now who he is. And he goes and
tells the Jews; not, let us hope, from any malicious motive, or any desire to put an instrument into the hands of Christ's enemies. Considering where and how he had so long been
lying, he may have known so little of all that
had recently happened, as to imagine that he
was at once pleasing the rulers, and doing a
service to Jesus, by informing them about his
cure. But it was no new intelligence that he
conveyed. The Jews, we presume, knew well
enough who had effected this cure. But it was
the first instance in which they had heard of
Jesus healing on the Sabbath-day-of itself
in their eyes a violation of its sanctity; and as
it would appear that, not content with this
offence, he had added another in ordering the
man to carry on that day a burden through
the streets —a thing strictly and literally prohibited by the law-it may have gratified the
Jews to be able to convict Jesus of a double
breach of the Sabbath law by direct and indubitable evidence from the man's own lips. You
can imagine the secret though malignant satis



348       THE POOL OF BETHESDA.
faction with which they got and grasped this
weapon, one at once of defence and of assault;
how they would use it in vindicating their rejection of Christ as a teacher sent from God,
for could God send a man who would be guilty
of such flagrant breaches of his law? how
they would use it in carrying out those purposes of persecution already brooding in their
breasts.
Their hostility to Jesus, which had been deepening ever since his daring act of cleansing the
Temple, now reached its height. From  this
time forth-and it deserves to be especially
noted as having occurred at so early a stage,
inasmuch as it forms the key to much of our
Lord's subsequent conduct-they sought to
slay him, because he had done those things on
the Sabbath-day. But though the purpose to
slay him was formed, it was not expressed, nor
attempted to be carried out. Things were not
yet ripe for its execution. Jesus might be convicted as a Sabbath-breaker, and all the opprobrium of such a conviction be heaped upon his
head; but as things then stood, it would not
be possible to have the penalty of death inflicted on him upon that ground. They must
wait and watch for an opportunity of accusing




THE POOL OF BETHESDA.      349
him of some crime which will carry that penalty even in the eyes of a Roman judge.
Though not serving them much in this respect, they have not to wait long till, in their
very presence-so that they have no need to
ask for other proof-Jesus commits a still
higher offence than that of violating the Sabbath. Aware of the charges that they were
bringing against him as to his conduct at the
Pool of Bethesda, he seizes upon some public
opportunity when he could openly address the
rulers; and in answer to the special accusation
of having broken the Sabbath, he says to them,'" "My Father worketh hitherto, and I work."
The rest into which my Father entered after
his work of creation, of which your earthly
Sabbatic rest is but a type, was not one of absolute inactivity-of the suspension, cessation
of his agency in and over the vast creation he
had formed. He worketh on still; worketh
on continuously, without distinction of days,
through the Sabbath-day as through all days,
sustaining, preserving, renewing,  vivifying,
healing. Were this work Divine to cease, there
would not be even that earthly Sabbath for
you to rest in. And as he, my Father, worketh, so work I, his Son, knowing as little of




350       THE POOL OF BETHESDA.
distinction of days in my working as he. By
process of nature, as you call it-that is, by the
hand of my Father-a man is often cured on
the Sabbath-day. And it is only what He thus
does that I have done, and my authority for
doing so is this, that I am his Son.'
Whatevtr difficulty the men to whom this
defence of his alleged Sabbath-breaking was
offered, may have had either in understanding
its nature or appreciating its force, one thing is
clear, that they did at once and most clearly
comprehend that in speaking of God as his
Father in the way he did, Jesus was claiming
to stand to God, not simply in the relationship
of a child-such a relationship as that in which
we all, as the creatures of his power and the
preserved of his providence, may be regarded
as standing-but in that of a close, personal,
peculiar sonship belonging to him alone, involving in it, as all true filiation does, unity of nature between the Father and the Son. It was
thus that the Jews understood Jesus to speak
of the Father and of himself, when he so associated himself with the Father, as to imply that
if his Father was not a breaker of the Sabbath
in healing men upon that day, neither was he,
his Son; and so they sought the more to kill




THE POOL OF BETHESDA.       $51
him, because he had not only broken the Sabbath, but said also that God was his own
Father, making himself equal with God.
If the Jews had misunderstood Jesus, what
was easier than for him to have said so; to
have denied and repudiated the allegation that
he had intended to claim anything like equality
with God? Instead of this, what does Jesus
do? He goes on to reassert, to explain, and to
expand what had been implied in the compendious expression he had employed. Anything like such distinction between the Father
and the Son as that the one would or could
judge, or will, or act independently of the
other-without or against the other-he emphatically and reiteratedly repudiates: "Verily,
verily, I say unto you, the Son can do nothing
of himself; " " I can of my own self do nothing." The very nature of the relationship forbade it that the Son ever would or could assert
for himself any such independence of the
Father as the creature, in its willfulness and sinfiulness, is apt to assert for itself. But tllolugll
all such separation and independence of coUlncil
and of action is here precluded, so complete is
the concert that what things soever the Father
doeth the same doeth the Son likewise. Some




352       THE POOL OF BETHESDA.
things that the great Divine Master Workman
does, a superior scholar may copy or imitate.
But Jesus does not say, what things the Father
does, the Son does other things somewhat like
them; but the same things, and whatever
things the Father doeth, the same doeth the
Son, and doeth them likewise, i. e., in the very
same manner, by the exercise of the same
power, for the furtherance of the same ends.
In far greater works than that simply of
healing, will the unity of action between them
be made to appear. One of these greater works
is that of quickening the dead, by the incommunicable prerogative of the Creator. This
prerogative the Father and the Son have equally.
As he wills, and by his will, the Father quickeneth; so too does the Son. The highest form
of life is that which is breathed into souls spiritually dead. This life is of the Son's imparting equally as of the Father. It comes through
the hearing of Christ's word; through a be-'ieving in the Father as he who sent the Son.
Verily, verily, I say unto you, the hour is coming, and now is, when the dead-the spiritually
dead-shall hear the voice of the Son of God,
and they that hear shall live. Another work
peculiar to Divinity is that of judging; approv



THE POOL OF BETHESDA.       353
ing, condemning, assigning to every man at
last, in strict accordance with what he is, and
has been, and has done, his place and destiny.
Who but the all-wise, all-just, all-gracious God
is competent for such a task? but that task, in
the outward execution of it, the Father has
devolved upon the Son, giving him authority to
execute it, because he is not simply the Son of
God, in which character he needs not such authority to be conveyed to him; but because he
is also the Son of man, and it is in that. complex or mediatorial office with which he is invested, that he is to sit upon the Throne of
Judgment at the last, when all the inhabitants
of the earth shall stand before his tribunal.
Should this then be a subject for marvel? for
the hour was coming, though not yet come,
when all that are in their graves shall hear
Christ's voice and shall come forth; they that
have done good to the resurrection of life, and
they that have done evil to the resurrection of
condemnation. Having thus unfolded the great
truth of the unity of will, purpose, and action,
between the Father and the Son, Jesus ceases
to speak of himself in the third perscn, and
proceeds onward to the close of his address, to
speak in the first person, and that in the plain



354           THE POOL OF BETHESDA.
est way,* of the testimonies that had been
borne to him, that of the Father, that of John,
that of his own works, that of the Holy Scriptures, all of which these Jews had willfully rejected. Now the accused becomes the accuser.
Now he who had been charged as a Sabbathbreaker, rises to the height of that very eleva* I"I can of mine own self do nothing: as I hear, I judge: and
my judgment is just; because I seek not mine own will, but the
will of the Father which hath sent me. If I bear witness of myself, my -witness is not true. There is another that beareth witness of me; and I know that the witness which he witnesseth of
me is true. Ye sent unto John, and he bare witness unto the truth.
But I receive not testimony from man: but these things I say,
that ye might be saved. He was a burning and a shining light;
and ye were willing for a season to rejoice in his light. But I have
greater witness than that of John: for the works which the Father
hath given me to finish, the same works that I do, bear witness of
me, that the Father hath sent me. And the Father himself, which
hath sent.me, hath borne witness of me. Ye have neither heard
his voice at any time, nor seen his shape. And ye have not his
word abiding in you: for whom he hath sent, him ye believe not.
Search the scriptures; for in them ye think ye have eternal life:
and they are they which testify of me. And ye will not come to
me, that ye might have life. I receive not honor from men. But
I know you, that ye have not the love of God in you. I am come
in my Father's name, and ye receive me not: if another shall come
in his own name, him ye will receive. How can ye believe, which
receive honor one of another, and seek not the honor that cometh
from God only? Do not think that I will accuse you to the
Father: there is one that accuseth you, even Moses, in whom ye
trust. For had ye believed Moses, ye would have believed me:
for he wrote of me. But if ye believe not his writings, how shall
ye believe my words?"




THE POOL OF BETHESDA.      355
tion which they had regarded him as a profane
and blasphemous man for venturing to claimn;
and he tells these unbelieving Jews, as one
knowing the hearts of all men, and entitled to
judge, and exercising that very authority with
which, as the Son of man, he had been clothed
-he tells them, that they had not the love of
God in them, nor his word abiding in them;
that they did not believe Moses when he wrote
of him; that, much as they reverenced their
Scriptures, they only believed in them so far as
they tallied with their own thoughts and fancies. Still further, he declares that there was
this great obstacle in the way of their receiving
one who came to them as Jesus did, in the
name of the Father, to do alone the Father's
will, that they were all too busy seeking after
the honor that came from man, minding earthly
things, and seeking not the honor that came
from the one only living and true God; attributing thus all their perverseness to mora'
causes, to motives operating within, over which
they should have had control; this being theii
condemnation, that they would not come tP
him that they might have life. He would, but
they would not.
If Jesus Christ were but a man, what are we




356       THE POOL OF BETHESDA.
to make of such a discourse as this? What
are we to make of the first part of it, in which
he speaks of the Father and his connexion with
him? What of the second part of it, in which
he speaks to the Jews and of their treatment
of him? We know not which would be the
worst,-the arrogance in the one direction, or
the presumption and uncharitableness in the
other, —if this were but a man speaking of the
Creator, and to his fellows. It can alone relieve him from the guilt of profane assumption
towards God, and unlicensed liberty with man,
to believe that Jesus was really that which the
Jews regarded him as claiming to be, the Son
of, the equal with, the Father, whom all men
should honor even as they honor God.
But let me ask now your particular attention to the circumstances under which this
marvellous discourse was spoken, and to the
object which, in the first instance, as at first
delivered, it was intended to serve. Jesus voluntarily, intentionally, created the occasion for
its delivery. The miracle here-the healing
of the impotent man at the Pool of Bethesdawas a wholly secondary or subordinate matter,
intended to bring Christ into that relationship
with the Jewish rulers, which called for and




THE POOL OF BETHESDA.      357
gave its fitness and point to this address. Why
did Jesus choose a Sabbath day to walk in the
porches of Bethesda? Why did he do what
only on one or two occasions afterwards, he
did, instead of waiting to be applied to, himself
single out the man and volunteer to heal him?
Why did he not simply cure the man, but bid
him also take up his bed and walk? He might
have chosen another day, and then, in the story
of the cure, we should have had but another
instance added to the many of the exertion of
our Lord's divine and beneficent power. He
might have simply told the man to rise up and
walk, and none could have told how the cure
had been effected, or turned it into any
charge. He chose that day, and he selected
that man, and he laid on him the command he
did, for the very purpose of bringing himself
front to front with the Jewish rulers. At first
the question between them seems to refer only
to the right keeping of the Sabbath. Had Jesus as a man, as a Jew, broken the Sabbath law
in curing a man upon that day? Had he broken it in telling the man he healed to carry his
bed through the city? Had the Jews not misunderstood, overstrained the law, sticking to
its letter, and violating its spirit? These were




358        THE POOL OF BETHESDA.
grave questions, with which, as we shall find,
Jesus afterwards did deal, when on another
Sabbath he volunteered another cure. But
here Christ waives all lesser topics-that.
among the rest, of the right interpretation of
the Sabbath law-and uses the antecedent circumstances as the basis on which to assert, and
then amplify and defend, the truth of his true
and only son-ship to the Father. His ministry
in Judea was now about to close. Aware of
the design against his life which had now been
formed, and wishing to baffle it for a season,
he retires to Galilee. But he will not leave
Jerusalem till he has given one full and public
testimony as to who and what he is, so that the
Jews, in continuing to reject him, shall not have
it in their power to say that he has not revealed his own character, nor expressed to
them the real grounds upon which their opposition to him is based.
Such was the special drift and bearing of the
address of Jesus as originally delivered to the
Jews. But is there nothing in its close applicable to ourselves and to all men in every age?
The same kind of obstacles that raised such a
barrier in the way of the Jews believing in
Jesus, do they not still exist?  If the spirit of




THE POOL OF BETHESDA.      359
pride and worldliness, a conventional piety and
an extreme thirst for the applause and honor
that cometh from man, occupy and engross our
hearts, shall they not indispose and render us
unable to believe simply, heartily, devotedly,
on Jesus Christ? Of ocne thing let us be assured, that whatever be our disposition and
conduct towards him, his towards us is ever a
longing desire to have us, keep us, bless us,
save us; and that the one and only thing that
stands in the way of our enjoying all the benefits of his salvation, is our own unwillingness;
his lament over all that wander away from him,
being ever this, Ye will not come to me, that
ye might have life




XVII.
THE SYNAGOGUE OF NAZARETH.*
IN the route commonly taken from Jerusalem
to the Sea of Galilee, one of the most interesting day's travel is that which carries you
from Jenin across the three valleys into which,
at its upper extremity, the great plain of
Esdraelon divides, and up to Nazareth, as it lies
embedded in the southern ridge of the hills of
Galilee. Crossing the first valley, we skirted
the base of the mountains of Gilboa, and
paused for a few moments upon a gentle elevation, now  occupied by a few houses of the
humblest description, on which Jezreel, the
ancient capital of Israel, once stood, with the
palace of Ahab in its centre, and the vineyard
of Naboth in its outskirts. Our eye wandered
along the twelve or fourteen miles of dead-level
that run from  Jezreel to Carmel, and the
* Luke iv. I6-31.




THEE SYNAGOGUE OF NAZARETH.   361
figure of the great prophet running before the
king's chariot rose before us. We turned
round and gazed upon the slopes of Gilboa,
and the tide of Saul's last battle seemed to
roll over them, and the sounds of the funeral
dirge of David to be lingering still among the
hills. The crossing of the next valley carried
us to the base of Little Hermon, where a small
hamlet lies, consisting of a few miserable-looking hovels, surrounded by ill-kept gardens.
This was the Shunem in which the house once
stood which had in it the prophet's chamber;
and these were the gardens in one of which the
widow's son once sickened unto death. Leaving behind us the place which, in the old prophetic times, saw the dead child given back to
his mother, climbing Little Hermon and descending on the other side, we entered another
village which witnessed another dead son given
back to another widowed mother, by him who
touched the bier and said, " Young man, I say
unto thee arise." Here, in his village of Nain,
we came for the first time on the traces of our
Lord's Galilean ministry. The third plain
passed, a steep ascent carried us to the summit
of that range of hills which forms the northeastern boundary of the plain of Esdraelon.




362     TmE SYNAGOGUE OF NAZAR TH.
Descending, we came upon a circular, basinshaped depression, girdled all round by a dozen
or more swelling hill-tops that rise from three
to four hundred feet above the valley they enclose. Near to the foot of the highest of these
surrounding hills, nestled in a secluded upland
hollow, lies the village of Nazareth. No village
in Palestine is liker what it was in the days of
Jesus Christ, and none more fitting to have
been his residence during the greater part of
his life on earth. The seclusion is perfect,
greater even than that of Bethany, which on
one side looks out openly upon the country
that stretches away to the shore of the Dead
Sea. Nazareth is closed in on every side, offering to us an emblem of the seclusion of those
thirty years which were passed there so quietly.
Pure hill breezes play over the village, and
temper the summer heat. The soil around is
rich, and yields the fairest flowers and richest
fruits of Palestine. You seem shut out from
the world, and yet you have but to climb a few
hundred feet to the top of the overlooking hill,
and one of the widest, finest prospects in all the
Holy Land bursts upon your view. Away in
the west, a sparkling lighlt plays upon the waters of the Mediterranean, revealing a portion




THE SYNAGOGUE OF NAZARETH.    363
of the Great Sea that formed the highway to
the isles of the Gentiles. The ridge of Carmel
runs out into the waters, closing in the bold
promontory on the top of which Elijah stood
and discomfited the prophets of Baal. Southward, below your feet, stretches the great battle-plain of Palestine, behind which rises the
hilly district of Samaria, through the opening
between which and the mountains of Gilboa
the eye wanders away eastward across the
whole breadth of the Holy Land, till it rests
upon that range, the everlasting eastern background of every Syrian prospect —the mountain range of Bashan and Gilead and Moab.
Turning northward, the whole hill-country of
Galilee lies spread out before us, the Sea of
Gennesaret hidden, but a glimpse of Safed obtained, the city set upon a hill, above and beyond which there rise the snowy heights of
Hernmon, called by the Arabs the Sheikh of the
Mountains.
Up to the hill-top which commands this magnificent prospect, how often in childhood, youth
and early manhood must Jesus have ascended,
to gaze-who shall tell us with what thoughts?
-upon the chosen scene of his earthly ministry,
and upon that sea over whose waters the glad




364     TmE SYNAGOGUE OF NAZARETH.
tidings of salvation were to be borne to so
many lands. It pleases us to think that so
many years of our Lord's life were spent in
such a home as that which Nazareth supplied;
one so retired, so rich in natural beauty, with
glimpses of the wide world around for the
morning or evening hours. There it was, in
the fields below the village, that he had
watched how the lilies grew, and seen with
what a gorgeous dress, in coloring above that
of kingly purple, their Creator clothed them.
There, in the gardens, he had noticed how the
smallest of all seeds grew into the tallest herbs.
There, outside the house, he had seen two
women grinding at one mill; inside, a woman
hiding the leaven in the dough. There, in the
market-place, he had seen the five sparrows
sold. for the two farthings. The sheep-walks
of the hills and the vineyards of the valleys had
taught him what were the offices of the good
shepherd and the careful vine-dresser; and all
the observations of those thirty years were
treasured up to be drawn upon in due time,
and turned into the lessons by which the world
was to be taught wisdom.
No means are left for ascertaining what impression was made during these thirty years




THE SYNAGOGUE OF NAZARETH.    365
upon the inmates of his home, the playmates
of his boyhood, the associates of his youth, the
villagers generally in the midst of whom he
grew up. It may readily be believed that the
gentleness, the truthfulness, the lovingness displayed by him, must have won respect. Yet
we can imagine, too, that the unearthly purity
and sanctity of such a childhood and such a
manhood may have created an awe, a sense
of distance and separation, which in meaner
spirits might deepen into something like aversion and dislike. At last he leaves them, and
is not seen in Nazareth for many months. But
the strangest tidings about him are afloat
through the village. First, they hear of what
happened at his baptism in the Jordan, then of
what he did a few miles off at Cana, then of
his miracles in Jerusalem, then of his curing
the nobleman's son of Capernaum; and now he
is once more among them, and the whole village is moved. The Sabbath-day comes round.
He had been in the habit all through these
thirty years of attending in the synagogue;
sitting there quietly and unobtrusively, taking
part in the prayers and praises, listening to the
reading of the Law and of the Prophets, and to
the explanations of the passages which were




366     THE SYNAGOGUE OF NAZARETH.
read, with what kind and amount of self-application none of all around him knew. But how
will he comport himself in the new character
that he has assumed? The synagogue is
crowded with men among whom he has been
brought up, all curious to see and hear. The
earlier part of the service goes on as usual.
The opening prayer is recited; the opening
psalm is chanted; the portion from the Law,
from the Book of Moses, is read by the ordinary minister; the time has come for the second
reading —that of some portion of the Prophets
-when Jesus steps forth and stands in the
reader's place. There is-no challenging of his
right to do so. It is not a right belonging exclusively to priest or Levite; any Jew of any
tribe might exercise it. But there was a functionary in every synagogue regularly appointed
to the office. This functionary, in this instance,
at once gives way, and hands to Jesus the roll
of the prophet out of which, according to the
calendar, the reading for the day is to be taken.
It is the roll of the prophet Isaiah. Jesus
opens it, and whether it was that the opening verses of the 61st chapter were those
actually appointed for that day's service, or
whether it was that the roll opened at random,




THE SYNAGOGUE OF NAZARETH.     367
and these verses were the first that presented
themselves, or that Jesus, from  the whole
book, purposely selected the passage, he read
as follows: " The Spirit of the Lord is upon
me, because he hath anointed me to preach the
gospel to the poor; he hath sent me to heal
the broken-hearted, to preach deliverance to
the captives, and recovering of sight to the
blind, to set at liberty them that were bruised;
to preach the acceptable year of the Lord."
And stopping there, in the middle of the sentence, he closed the book, gave it to the minister, and sat down upon the raised seat of the
reader, taking the attitude usually assumed by
Jewish teachers. There was a breathless stillness. The eyes of all that were in the synagogue were fastened on him. "This day,"
said Jesus, " is this scripture fulfilled in your
ears."
It was a scripture universally understood to
be descriptive of the coming Messiah, his office,
and his work. Jesus gives no reason for appropriating and applying it to himself; he
offers nothing in the shape of argument or evidence in favor of his being indeed the Christ,
the anointed of the Holy Ghost. He contents
himself with the simple authoritative assertion




368     THE SYNAGOGUE OF NAZARETH.
of the fact. We have indeed but the first sentence given that he spoke on this occasion.
What followed, however, we may well believe
to have been an exposition of the passage read,
as containing an account of the true character,
ends, and objects of his mission as the Christ or
God; the telling who the poor were to whom
le brought good tidings, Who the bruised and
the broken-hearted were whom he came to
heal, who the bound were that he came to liberate, who the blind whose eyes he came to
open, what that year was he came to usher in
-the long year of grace which still runs on, in
the course of which there is acceptance for all
of us with God, through Christ. As Jesus
spake of these things-spake with such ease,
such grace, such dignity-the first impression
made upon the Nazarenes, his old familiar
friends, was that of astonishment and admiration. He had got no other, no better education than that which the poorest of them had
received. He had attended none of the higher
schools in any of the larger towns, had set at
the feet of none of their chief rabbis to be instructed in the law; yet no rabbi of the schools
could speak with greater fluency, greater authority, greater confidence. Soon, however,




THE SYNAGOGUE OF NAZARETH.     369
as from the mere manner, they began to turn
their thoughts to the substance of this discourse,
and began to realize what the position really
was which Jesus was assuming,-that it was
nothing short of the very highest that ever
any son of man was to reach; that it was as
the Lord's anointed Christ that he was speaking, and speaking to them as the poor, the
blind, the captives, to whom he was to render
such services-the admiration turns into envy.
Who is he that is arrogating to himself all this
dignity, authority, and power? who is speaking to them as so immeasurably his inferiors,
as needing so much his help?  Is not this the
son of honest, plain old Joseph, whom we all
so well remember as our village carpenter?
His brethren and his sisters, are they not here
beside us in the synagogue, listening, apparently with no great delight or approval, to this
new strain in which their brother has begun to
speak? He the Messiah, the opener of our
eyes, the healer of our hearts, our deliverer
from bondage! Before he asks us to believe
any such thing of him, let him show us some
sigll from heaven; do some of those miracles
that they say he has done elsewhere, particularly at Capernaum. If he wanted us, who




370      TEE SYNAGOGUE OF NAZARETH.
have all known him so well from his childhood,
to believe in him as a prophet, he should have
come to us first, convinced us first, unfolded
his credentials to us first, wrought his first
miracles here in Nazareth. Jealousy heightens
the offence that envy had created, and ere long
the whole company in that synagogue is looking at him askance. Jesus sees this, and turning from his former subject of discourse, tells
them that he sees and knows it, lays open their
hearts to them, puts the very words into their
lips that they were ready to utter, and proceeds to vindicate himself for not showing any
special sign to his fellow-townsmen, by quoting
two instances in. which Elijah and Elisha, the
two great workers of miracles among the
prophets, passed over all their fellow-countrymen to show favor to the Sidonian widow and
the Syrian officer. There is nothing that men
dislike more than that the evil and the bitter
things hidden in their breasts should be brought
to light. It aggravates this dislike when the
discoverer, and revealer of their thoughts, is
the very person against whom the malignant
sentiment is cherished.  Should he remain
calm and unimpassioned, neither taken by surprise, nor betraying irritation, they are so much




THE SYNAGOGUE OF NAzARETH.     371
the more incensed. So felt the Nazarenes under the address of our Lord; and when he
proceeded to assume the mantle of Elijah and
Elisha. as if he were of the same order with
these great prophets of the olden time, it is
more than they can any longer bear. They
will be lectured no more in such a way by the
son of the carpenter. They rise, they rush
upon him, they thrust him out of the village,
and on to the brow of a precipice over which
they would have hurled him; but it pleased
him to put forth that power, and to lay upon
them that spell which he laid upon the highpriest's band in the garden of Gethsemnane.
They are hurrying him to the brow of the hill;
he turns, he looks, the spell is on them, their
hands drop powerless by their sides; he passes
through the midst of them, they offer no resistance, and before they recover themselves he is
gone.
About two miles from Nazareth, there is a
hill which shows, upon the side facing the plain
of Esdraelon, a long and steep descent. The
monks of the middle ages-the determiners ot
most of the sites of the holy places in Palestine-fixed on this as the precipice over which
the angry Nazarenes designed to throw our




372      THE SYNAGOGUE OF NAZARETH.
Saviour, and gave it the name of the Mount of
Precipitation. The very distance of this mount
from the village, goes far to disprove the tradition regarding it. But though this distance
had been less, it could not have been the place,
for it is distinctly stated by the Evangelist that
it was a brow of the hill on which the city was
built from which they intended to cast him.
Modern travellers are all agreed that it must
have been from some part of the rocky cliff
which overhangs the oldest quarter of the present village of Nazareth that Jesus was about
to have been thrown. This rocky cliff extends
for some distance along the hill on which Nazareth is built, and shows at different points perpendicular descents of from thirty to forty feet,
which, as they have been filled up below with
accumulations of rubbish, must originally have
been much deeper. Any one of these would
so far answer to the description given by the
Evangelist. In taking this view, however, it is
necessary to suppose that on leaving the synagogue, with the deliberate intention of killing
him, the infuriated Nazarenes either forced
Jesus up the height from which they designed
afterwards to cast him, or made a circuit up
and round the hill, in order to reach the in,




THE SYNAGOGUE OF NAZARETH.    373
tended spot. The same ascent which it must
have been needful thus to make, I made, in
company with the Rev. Mr. Zeller, who for
some years has been resident as a missionary
in Nazareth. On getting to the top of the
ridge, we found ourselves on a nearly level
plateau of considerable extent. There were
no houses on this plateau, but Mr. Zeller pointed
out to us, here and there, those underground
cisterns which are the almost infallible signs of
houses having once been in the neighborhood.
Here, then, on this plateau, a portion, if not
the whole, of the ancient Nazareth may have
stood. If it was so, if even a few houses of
the old village were here, then, as we know it
to have been the rule that, wherever it was
possible, the synagogue was built on the highest ground in or near the city or village to
which it belonged, it must have been on this
elevated ground that the synagogue of Nazareth stood, not far from the brow of the hill.
It seems more likely that the Nazarenes should,
in the phrenzy of the moment, have attempted
to throw our Lord from a precipice quite at
hand, than that, acting on a deliberate purpose,
they should have spent some time, and climbed
a hill in order to its execution.




374     THE SYNAGOGUE OF NAZARETH.
But turning now from the locality and outward circumstances of this event in our Saviour's life, let us try to enter into its meaning
and spirit. So far as we know, this was the
first occasion on which Jesus addressed an audience of his countrymen in the synagogue on
the Sabbath-day; it would appear indeed to
have been the only one on which he took the
duty of the reader as well as that of the exhorter. It was a common enough thing for
any one, even a stranger, to be asked, when
the proper service of the synagogue was over,
to address some words of instruction or encouragement to the audience. The Gospels tell
us how frequently Jesus made use of this opportunity; and you may remember how at
Antioch in Pisidia, after the reading of the Law
and the Prophets, the rulers of the synagogue
sent unto Paul and Barnabas, saying, "Men
and brethren, if ye have any word of exhortation for the people, say on." The peculiarity
of the incident now before us lay in this, that
Jesus first read the passage from the Prophets,
and then grounded directly upon it the address
which he delivered. In this respect we might
regard it as the first sermon ever preached; the
text chosen, and the discourse uttered by our




THE SYNAGOGUE OF NAZARETH.    375
Lord himself. Had these Nazarenes, who, in
their insatiate and zealous craving after signs
and wonders, wanted him only to do the same
or greater things than he had done in Capernaum, but known how highly honored, far
above that of its being made a mere theatre
for the exhibition of divine power, their synagogue was, in being the first place on earth in
which that instrument was employed which has
been so mighty through God to the pulling
down of the strongholds of the ungodly, and
the upbuilding of the Church, their vanity
might have been gratified; but they slighted
the privilege thus enjoyed, and so lost the benefit.
The body of the first synagogue sermon of
our Saviour has been lost. The te; t and introductory sentence alone remain, but how much
(lo they reveal to us of the natur,, the needfulness, the preciousness of those spiritual offices which our Divine Redeem r came on
earth to execute, and which he stills stands
waiting to discharge towards otlr sinful humanity! It was to a company of a few hundreds at the most that the words of Jesus
were spoken in the synagogue at Nazareth;
but that desk from which they were spoken,




376     THE SYNAGOGUE OF NAZARETH.
was turned into the centre of a circle whose
bounds are the ends of the earth, and that
audience has multiplied to take in the whole
family of mankind. To the men of every land
in every age, Jesus has been thus proclaiming
what the great ends are of his mission to this
earth. To open blinded eyes, to heal bruised
and bleeding and broken hearts, to unlock the
doors, and unloose the fetters of the imprisoned and the bound; to announce to the
poor, the meek, the humble, that theirs is the
kingdom  of heaven; and to proclaim  to all
that this is the year of our Lord, the long year
of Christ that takes in all the centuries down
to his Second Coming, the year in every day
and every hour and every moment of which
our heavenly Father waits to forgive, receive,
accept, all contrite ones who come to him.
Such, our Saviour tells us, is that great work of
grace and power for whose accomplishment he
has been anointed of the Father and replenished
by the Spirit. In that high office to which he
has thus been set apart, and for which he has
been thus qualified, we all need his services.
There is a spiritual blindness which Jesus only
can remove; a spiritual imprisonment from
which he only can release; a deadly spiritual




THE SYNAGOGUE OF NAZARETH.     377
malady eating in upon our heart which he alone
can heal. And shall he not do all this for us,
if we feel our need of its being done, since the
doing of it is the very design of his most gracious ministry among the sinful children of
men? Let us not do him the injustice to believe that he will be indifferent to the accomplishmlent of the very errand of mercy on
which he came, or that he will refuse in ours or
in any case to enlighten and emancipate, bind
up and heal.
It seems to us to throw a distinct, and, though
not a very broad, yet a very clear and beautiful beam of light on the graciousness of our
Lord's character, that instead of reading the
number of verses ordinarily recited, he stopped
where he did in his quotation from Isaiah. Had
he gone on, he should have said, " to proclaim
the acceptable year of the Lord, and the day
of vengeance of our God." Why not go on,
why pause thus inll the middle of the sentence?
not assuredly that he meant either to deny or
hide the truth, that the day of vengeance
would follow upon the acceptable year, if the
opportunities of that year were abused and lost;
but that then and now, it is his chosen ailu
most grateful office to throw wide open lhe




378     THE SYNAGOGUE OF NAZARETH.
arms of the heavenly mercy, and invite all
to throw themselves into them and be saved.
But though he came in the Spirit to those
among whom he had been brought up, though
lie came thus to his own, by his own he was not
received, by his own he was despised and rejected. His treatment at Nazareth was a foreshadowing of the treatment given generally to
him by his countrymen, and terminating in his
crucifixion on Calvary. The rude handling in
the Galilean village, the binding, the scourging,
the crucifying in the Jewish capital, Waere types
of that still rougher spiritual handling, that
crucifying of our Lord afresh which the world,
in every age, has gone on repeating. It was
their very familiarity with him in the intercourse
of daily life which proved such a snare to the
Nazarenes, and tempted them into their great
offence. Let us fear lest our familiarity with
him of another kind-the frequency with which
we hear about him, and read about him, and
have him in one way or other set before usblind our eyes and blunt our heart to the wonders of his redeeming love, and exceeding riches
of his grace and power.




XVIII.
FIRST SABBATH IN CAPERNAUM, AND FIRST CIIRCUIT OF GALILEE.*
THE first eight months of our Lord's ministry were spent, as we have seen, in Judea. By the sign from heaven, by the Baptist's proclamation, by Christ's own words and
deeds, he was presented to the rulers and to
the people as the Son of God, the Messiah.
His character was misunderstood; his claims
were rejected. At Jerusalem a plot against
his life was formed; it was no longer safe for
him to reside where the Jewish authorities had
power. Jesus retired to Galilee (John iv. 1-3).
Besides the purpose of placing himself beyond
the reach of the Scribes and Pharisees of Jerusalem, another circumstance seems to have
had its influence in directing Christ's footsteps
* Matt. iv. 12-22, 23-25: Mark i. 21-39; Luke iv. 42-44




380        FIRST SABBATH IN CAPERNAUM,
into Galilee. He heard that John was cast
into prison. The Baptist's work was over; the
labors of the Forerunner were closed; the
ground was open for Jesus to occupy. Hitherto, in his earlier Judean ministry, he had
neither publicly taught in the synagogues, nor
openly and indiscriminately healed the sick,
nor called any other disciples to his side than
those who voluntarily and temporarily followed
himn.* We may safely say, then, that prior to
his appearance in Galilee, he had taken no steps
either to proclaim.the advent of the kingdom,
or, by the selection of a band of chosen adherents, to lay the foundation of that new economy which was to take the place of the one
which was now waxing old, and was ready to
vanish away. It looks as if, before fully and
* His disciples, indeed, in imitation of John's practice, had begun to baptize, but as soon as " the Lord knew how the Pharisees
had heard that Jesus had made and baptized more disciples than
John (though Jesus himself baptized not, but his disciples), he
left Judea, and departed again into Galilee " (John iv. 1-3). It
would seem to have been a sudden impulse of zeal in their Master's cause which led those first disciples to engage so eagerly in
baptizing,-a zeal which, instead of checking or rebuking, Jesus
dealt with by quietly cutting off the occasion for its display. By
his own removal to Galilee, an entirely new state of things was
ushered in, and by John's imprisonment his baptisms ceased; nor
do we read anywhere of a Galilean baptism by the disciples of
Jesus.




AND FIRST CIRcTr oF GAuum.    381
openly entering on the task of providing a substitute for that Judaic economy which his own
kingdom was to overturn, Jesus had gone up
to Jerusalem, and given to the head and representatives of the Jewish commonwealth the
choice of receiving or rejecting him as their
Messiah. It was not, at least, till after he had
been so rejected in Judea, that he began in
Galilee to preach the gospel of the kingdom
(Matt. i. 15), and to plant the first seeds of
that tree whose leaves were to be for the healing of the nations. This helps to explain at
once the marked difference between Christ's
course of conduct during the period which immediately succeeded his baptism, which was
passed in Judea, and the laborious months in
Galilee which followed, and the marked silence
regarding the former which is preserved by the
first three Evangelists, who all make our Lord's
ministry begin in Galilee, and contain no allusion to anything as happening between the
temptation in the wilderness and the opening
of his ministry there. Nor do they allude to
any visits of Jesus to Jerusalem prior to those
which he made after his final departure from
Galilee, and which preceded his crucifixion.
With them, up to that time, Galilee appears




382     FIST SABBATH IN CAPEINAUt,
as the exclusive theatre of our Lord's labors.
It is to the supplemental Gospel of St. John
that we are indebted for all our knowledge of
the memorable incidents in Judea, which preceded the first preaching in the synagogue of
Nazareth. We can understand this singular
silence of the first three Evangelists, if we regard our Lord's earlier appearance and residence in Judea as constituting rather a preliminary dealing with the Jews, in the way of
testing their disposition and capacity to welcome him as their own last and greatest prophet, than as forming an integral part of that
work whereby the foundations of the Christian
church were laid.
Rejected by the chiefs of the people in the
capital, Jesus comes to Galilee. There, in the
synagogue of that town in which he had lived
so many years, he first publicly proclaims his
office and his work, as the healer of the broken
hearted, the restorer of sight to the blind, the
deliverer of the captives, the preacher of the
gospel to the poor-an office and a work which
had nothing of confinement in it, nothing restricting it to any one age or country. But
there, too, by his fellow-townsmen at Nazareth,
as by the rulers of the capital, he is rejected,




AND FIRST CIRmcrr o GF xxnr.    383
and so he descends to the shores of the Sea of
Galilee. Walking by these shores, he sees first
Andrew and Peter casting a net into the sea.
He says to them, "Follow me, and I will make
you fishers of men. Straightway they leave
all and follow him." A little farther on,
another pair of brothers, James and John, are
in their boat mending their nets. He calls
them in the same way, and they leave their
boat and their nets, their father and the hired
servants, and follow. He was not speaking to
strangers, to those previously ignorant or indisposed to follow him. Andrew was one of the
two disciples of John who had heard the Baptist say, " Behold the Lamb of God," and who
had followed Jesus. The other of these two
disciples was John. Andrew had brought his
brother Peter to Jesus; and though it is not
said that John had done the same with his
brother James, the latter must already have
been acquainted with Christ. Andrew, Peter,
and John had followed Jesus from Bethabara
to Cana, and had witnessed there the first of
his miracles. They had been up at Jerusalenm
and seen the miracles which Jesus wrought
at the first Passover which he attended. They
may have taken part in the baptizing, may




384     FIRST SABBATH IN CAPERNAUM,
have been with Jesus at the well of Jacob.
Mention is made of disciples of Jesus being
there with him, and who so likely to be among
them as those who first followed him from Bethabara? But they do not appear as yet to
have attached themselves permanently to his
person, nor to have attended him on his return from his second visit to the metropolis,
nor to have been with him at Nazareth. The
stopping of the baptisms, the imprisonment of
John, the scattering of his disciples, may have
thrown them into some doubt as to the intentions of the new Teacher. For a time at least
they had returned to their old occupation as
fishermen, and were busily employed at it
when Jesus met them; but his voice fell upon
ears that welcomed its sound, his command
upon spirits that were ready to obey. Not that
they understood as yet that the summons was
one to relinquish finally their earthly calling.
The present was but a preliminary invitation
to follow Jesus,-and chiefly by hearing what
he said, and watching what he did, to be instructed by him in the higher art of catching
men. It was not till weeks afterwards that
they were solemnly set apart as his apostles.
In the meantime, however, they accompa



AND FIRST CIRcurr OF GATILEE.   385
nied him into Capernaum. The entrance of
Jesus, attended by the two well-known brothers,-who, from the mention of hired servants
belonging to one of them, we may believe,
ranked high among their craft,-was soon
known throughout all the town. The inhabitants of Capernaum had already heard enough
about him to excite their liveliest curiosity.
That curiosity had the keenest edge put on it
by the manner in which the cure of the nobleman's child had been effected. And now he is
amongst them. It would be a crowded synagogue on the Sabbath-day, when he stood up
there to preach for the first time the gospel of
the kingdom  of God. Nothing of what he
said upon this occasion has been preserved.
The impression and effect upon his auditors are
alone recorded: "They were astonished at his
doctrine; for he taught them  as one having
authority, ana1 not as the scribes;" " his word
was with power" (Mark i. 22; Luke iv. 32).
The scribes, the ordinary instructors of the
people, presented themselves simply as expositors of the law, written and traditional, claiming no separate or independent authority, content with simply discharging the office of conmmentators, and resting their individual claims to




386     FIRST SABBATH IN CAPERNAUM,
respect on the manner in which that office was
fulfilled. But here is a teacher of quite a new
order, who busies himself with none of those
difficult or disputed questions about which the
rabbis differed; who speaks to the people
about a new kingdom-the kingdom of Godto be set up among them, and that in a tone of
earnestness, certainty, authority, to which they
were unaccustomed. What can this new kingdom be, and what position in it can this Jesus
of Nazareth occupy?
Of one thing they are speedily apprised, that
it is a kingdom opposed to that of Satan, intended to destroy it. For among them was a
man possessed with a devil, who as Jesus stood
speaking to them, broke in upon his discourse,
and, with a voice so loud as to startle the whole
synagogue, cried out, addressing himself to
Jesus, " Let us alone; what have we to do with
thee, thou Jesus of Nazareth; art thou come
to destroy us? I know thee who thou art, the
Holy One of God." He speaks in the name of
others, as representing the whole company of
evil spirits, to whom, at that time, here and
there, it had been allowed to usurp the seat of
will and power in human breasts, and so to
possess the men in whom they dwelt as to strip




AND FIRsT CIRCUIT OF GAIE=E.    387
them of their volition and conscious identity,
and to turn them into human demons. But
how came this human demon into the synagogue, and what prompted him to utter such
cries of horror and of spite? Was this devil
as much beside himself as the poor man in
whom he dwelt? Had the presence, the look,
the words of Jesus such a power over him that
as the man could not regulate or restrain his
own actions, so neither could the devil regulate
or restrain his thoughts and words? His exclamations sound to our ear like the mad, involuntary, impotent outcries of the vassals of a kingdom who feel that the reins of empire are passing
out of their hands, but who cannot give them up
without telling who the greater than they is who
has come to dispossess them of their power.
Whatever may be thought of the kind of
pressure under which the devil who possessed
this man acted; whether the testimony he gave
to our Lord's character be regarded as free and
spontaneous, intended rather to injure than to
honor; or whether it be regarded as unwillingly
drawn forth by close personal contact with the
Holy One, the testimony so given was not welcomed by Christ. It came unsuitably from a
quarter whence no witness should be borne to




388     FIRST SABBATH IN CAPERNAUM,
him, nor was wished for, as it came unseasonably, when premature relations of his true
character were not desired. In other instances
as well as this Jesus did not suffer the devils to
speak, "because they knew him," acting as to
them on the same principle on which he ofter
cautioned those whom he healed and his ower
disciples, not to make him known, seeking by
such repression to prevent any hurrying forward before its time of what he knew would
be the closing catastrophe of his career. But
though refused thus, and as it were rejected
by our Lord, its first wild impatient utterances
all that it was permitted to give forth, this
voice is most striking to us now as a testimony
from the demon-world, through which a knowledge of who Jesus truly was seems so rapidly
to have circulated. The Prince of Darkness,
in his temptation of our Lord a year before,
seems himself to have been in some doubt, as
he put the question so often, "If thou be the
Son of God." But no doubt was entertained
by the devils who came, as Luke tells us, "out
of many, crying out and saying, Thou art
Christ, the Son of God" (Luke iv. 41.) Some
have thought that those demoniacs whom
Christ cured were lunatics, and nothing more;




AND FIRST CIRCUIT OF GATTTLEE.  389
men whose deranged and disordered intellects
were soothed down into calmness and order by
the gentle yet firm voice and look and power
of Christ. But what are we to make of the
unique testimony that so many of them gave
to Christ's Messiahship and Sonship to God,
and that at the very commencement of his
ministry?  Were lunatics the only ones who
knew him? or whence got they such knowledge
and such faith?
Accepting, with whatever mystery the whole
subject of demoniac possessions is clothed, the
simple account of the Evangelists, it does appear most wonderful,-the quick intelligence,
the wild alarm, the terror-striking faith that
then pervaded the demon-world, as if all the
spirits of hell who had been suffered to make
human bodies their habitation, grew pale at
the very presence of Jesus, and could not but
cry out in the extremity of their despair.
" Hold thy peace," said Jesus to the devil in
tne synagogue, " and come out of him." The
man was seen to fall, torn as by violent convulsions; a loud, inarticulate, fiendish cry was
heard to issue from his lips;* hale and unhurt,
the devil gone, the man himself again, he rose' Mark i. 36; Luke iv. 35.




390     FIRST SABBATH IN CAPERENAU,
to converse with those around, and to return
to his home and friends. Amazement beyond
description seized at once on all who saw or
heard of what had happened. Men said to
one another, in the synagogue, on the streets,
by the highways, What thing is this, what a
word is this! for with authority he commandeth even the unclean spirits and they do obey
him. And immediately (it could scarce well
have been otherwise), the fame of him went
out into every place of the country, and spread
abroad throughout all the region round about
Galilee."*  Chiefly, however, in Capernaum did
the excitement prevail, begun by the cure of
the demoniac in the synagogue, quickened by
another cure that followed within an hour or
two. The service of the synagogue closed before the mid-day meal. At its close Jesus accepted an invitation to go to the house of
Simon and Andrew. These brothers, as we
know, were natives of Bethsaida, and had hitherto resided there. But recently they had
removed to Capernaum. Peter having married, and perhaps taken up his abode in the
house of his mother-in-law, James and John
were also of the invited guests. Jesus did not
* Mark i. 27, 28; Luke iv. 36, 37.




SAND FIRST CIRCUIT OF GAuu..    391
know that the house he went to was one of
sickness, and his ignorance in this respect
creates the belief that it was the first time he
had entered it. But soon he hears that the
great fever (it is the physician Luke who in
this way describes it) has seized upon Simon's
wife's mother. They tell him of it; he goes to,
bends kindly over her, takes her by the hand,
rebukes the fever. The cure is instantaneous
and complete. She rises, as if no disease had
ever weakened her, with glad and grateful
spirit to wait upon Jesus and the rest. And
so within that home, kindly hands were provided, like those of Martha at Bethany, to minister to the Saviour's wants during the busiest,
most toilsome period of his life, when, in season
and out of season, early in the morning, and
far on often in the night, he came and went,
living longer under that roof of Peter's house
at Capernaum, than under any other that sheltered him after his public ministry had begun.
This cure, too, was noised abroad through the
city. Here was an opportunity not to be lost,
for who could tell but that next morning Jesus
will be gone? Though it was the Sabbath,
Jesus had not scrupled to eject the devil and
rebuke the fever; but the people could not so




392     FIRST SABBATH IN CAPERNAUT,
easily get over their scruples. They wait till
the sun has set before they apply to this new
and strange physician. But meanwhile all that
were diseased in Capernaum, and all that were
possessed were brought. All the city has gathered together at the door of Peter's house.
The sun goes down, and Jesus steps out into
that bustling, anxious crowd; he lays his hand
on every one of the diseased,* and heals them,
and casts out all the spirits with his word. The
stars would be shining brightly in the heavens
ere the busy blessed work was done, and within a few hours a city which numbered many
thousand inhabitants saw disease of every kind
banished from its borders.
After the excitement and fatigue of such a
day, Jesus may lay his head peacefully on his
pillow, and take the rest that such labor has
earned. But long before the others-While
yet they are all sleeping in Simon's house
around him —rising up a great while before
day, he goes out into a solitary place to pray.
Was it on his own account that Jesus thus
retired? Was his spirit too much under the
distracting influence which such a scene of
bustle and excitement as he had passed through
*Luke iv. 40.




ND FIRST CIRCUIT OF GALILEE.    393
the day before, was fitted to exert? Did he
feel the need to calm the inward tumult, by
silent and solitary communion with Heaven?
As we follow his footsteps, let us be careful to
notice and to remember in what circumstances
it was that Christ resorted to special, solitary,
continued prayer. But in leaving Capernaum,
alone and so early, Jesus had in view the state
of others as well as his own. He was well
aware how apt, in his case, the office of the
healer, the wonder-worker, was to overshadow
that of the teacher, the preacher of the gla.d
tidings; how ready the inhabitants of Capernaum already were to hail and honor him in
this one character, however little they might
be disposed to regard or obey him in the other.
He had done enough of the one kind of work,
had got enough of that one kind of homage,
there. And so, when, after an eager search
for him, he is found,-and Simon and the disciples tell him that all men were seeking for
him, and the people when they came up entreat him that he should not depart from them,*
Jesus says to the one, " Let us go into the next
town, that I may preach there also;" and to the
other, "I must preach the kingdom of God to
* Compare Mark i. 36, 38, and Luke iv. 42, 43.




394     FInST SABBATH IN CAPERNAUM,
other cities also, for therefor am I sent."  He
did not, indeed, forsake the city that had
treated him so differently from his own Nazareth. He chose it as the place of his most frequent residence, the centre of his manifold
labors, the scene of many of his most memorable
discourses and miracles. But now he must not
rest on the favor which the healings of this
wonderful day have won for him. And for a
time he left Capernaum, and " went about all
Galilee, teaching in their synagogues, and
preaching the gospel of the kingdom and healing all manner of sickness, and all manner of
disease, among the people. And his fame went
throughout all Syria: and they brought unto
him all sick people that were taken with divers
diseases and torments, and those which were
possessed with devils, and those which were
lunatic, and those that had the palsy; and he
healed them. And there followed him great
multitudes of people from Galilee, and from
Decapolis, and from  Jerusalem, and from
Judea, and from beyond Jordan."*
We read of nine departures from and returns to Capernaum in the course of the eightCMatt. iv. 23-25.




AND FImT CIRoUT  OF GOFATn;.    395
een months of our Lord's Galilean ministry;
of three extensive tours through all the towns
and villages of the district as the one now described; and of five or six more limited ones.
Had the three Evangelists not been so sparing
in their notices of time and place; had they
not often shown such entire disregard to the
mere order of time, in order to bring together
incidents or discourses which were alike in
character; could we have traced, as we cannot
do, the footsteps of our Saviour from place to
place, from month to month, as he set forth on
these missionary rounds through Galilee, made,
let us remember, all on foot, we should have
had a year and a half before us of varied and
almost unceasing toil, the crowded activities of
which would have filled us with wonder. As
it is, a general conception of how these months
were spent is all that we can reach. To give
distinctness to that conception, let us remember what, in extent of surface and in the character and numbers of its population, that district of country was to which these pedestrian
journeys of our Saviour were confined.
Galilee, the most northern of the three divisions of Palestine, is between fifty and sixty
miles in length, and from thirty to forty in




396     FIsT SABBATH IN CAPERNAUM,
breadth. A three-days' easy walk would take
you from Nain, on the south, to Cmasarea Philippi in the north,-which seem to have been
the limits in these directions of our Saviour's
circuits. Less than two days' travel will carry
you from the shores of the Sea of Galilee to the
coasts of Tyre and Sidon. Galilee presented
thus an area somewhat larger than Lancashire,
and somewhat smaller than Yorkshire. So far,
therefore, as the mere distances were concerned,
it would not take long-not more than a week
or two-to travel round and through it. But
then, in the Saviour's days, it was more densely
populated than either of the English counties
I have named. Josephus, who knew it well,
speaks.of 204 towns and villages, the smallest
of them containing above 15,000 inhabitants.
Making an allowance for exaggeration, the
population of the province must have been
about three millions, —as crowded a population
as any manufacturing district in any of the
western kingdoms of Europe now presents.
And this population was of a very mixed character. If the majority were of Jewish descent,
there were so many Phoenicians, Syrians
Arabs, Greeks, and others mingled with them,
that we may be almost certain that Jesus never




AND FIRST CIRCUIT OF GALILTEE.  397
addressed any large assembly in which there
were not Gentiles as well as Jews. There cannot be a greater mistake than to imagine that,
in selecting Capernaum, on the shores of the
Lake of Gennesaret, as his head-quarters, and
Galilee as his chosen field of labor, Jesus was
retiring from the populous Judea to a remote
and unfrequented region. In those days there
was much more life and bustle in Galilee than
in Judea. So far as both the numbers and
character of its population were concerned, it
was a much better, more hopeful theatre for
such evangelistic labors as those of Jesus. The
people, though no less national in their spirit,
were much less infected with ecclesiastical
prejudice. The seed had thus a better soil to
fall upon. Though a Roman governor was
placed over them, the Scribes and Pharisees
had great power in Jerusalem, as they proved
in effecting the crucifixion. Herod Antipas,
who ruled over Galilee, had none of the jealousies of the Jewish Sanhedrim; and, in point
of fact, does not appear till the last to have
taken much interest in, or in any way to have
interfered with the proceedings of Jesus. So
long as he confined himself to the work of a
religious teacher, Herod had no desire to mled



398      FIRST SABBATH IN CAPERNAUM,
die with his doings; and even if he had, Jesut
had but to cross the Lake of Galilee to put
himself beyond his power, by placing himself
under the protection of Philip, the gentlest and
most humane of the Herodcs.
Well adapted every way as Galilee was for
our Lord's peculiar work,-the laying of the
first foundations of the Christian faith, a faith
which was to spread over the whole earth,Capernaum was equally fitted to be the centre
whence his labors were to radiate. Looked at,
as you find it marked upon the map of Galilee,
it does not occupy anything like a central position. But looked at in relation to the population and to the means of transit, a better
centre could not have been selected.  Wherever its site was, it lay on the northwestern
shore of the Sea of Galilee, close upon, if not
within, the plain of Gennesaret.* This plain,three miles long, and two miles broad,-was
then dotted with villages, teeming with population, and of the most exuberant fertility. " One
may call the place," says the Jewish historian,
"the ambition of nature, where it forces those
* After visiting the ruins at Khan Mineyeh and Tell Hum, the
writer had no hesitation in deciding in favor of the latter as more
likely to have been the site of Capernaum.




AND FIrST CIRCUIT OF GALEE.    399
plants that are naturally enemies to one an.
other, to agree together; it is a happy contention of the seasons, as if every one of them laid
claim to this country." While all round its
shores the Sea of Galilee saw towns and villages thronged with an agricultural and manufacturing population, itself teemed with a kind
of wealth that gave large occupation to the
fishermen. How numerous the boats were that
once skimmed its surface, and how large the
numbers employed as fishermen, may be gathered from the fact, that ill the wars with the
Romans, two hundred small vessels were once
collected for the only naval action in which the
Jews ever engaged. Remembering that the
Lake is only thirteen miles long and five or six
miles broad, it is not too much, perhaps, to say
that never did so small a sheet of water see so
many keels cutting its surface, or so many human habitations circling round and shadowing
its waves, as did the Sea of Galilee in the days
of Jesus Christ.
Now all is silent there; lonely and most
desolate.  Till last year but a single boat
floated upon its waters. On its shores, Tiberias
in ruins, and Magdala composed of a few
wretched hovels, are all that remain. You




400    FIRST SABBATH IN CAPERNAUM.
may ride round and round the empty beach,
and, these excepted, never meet a human being, nor pass a human habitation. Capernaum,
Chorazin, Bethsaida are gone. Here and there
you stumble over ruins, but none can tell you
exactly what they were. They knew not,
those cities of the Lake, the day of their visitation; their names and their memory have perished.
THE END.




THE
[INISTRY IN GALILEE








CONTENTS.
L-The Two Healings-The Leper and the Paralytic....................................   1
1L —The Charge of Sabbath-breaking,.............  21
EIM —The Calling to the Apostolate of St. Peter, St.
Andrew, St. James, St. John, and St. MIatthew,..........................4.....   43
IV.-The Sermon on the Mount,...................   64
V.-The Raising of the Widow's Son and the Ruler's
Daughter,................................  84
VI. —The Embassy of the Baptist-the Great Invitation.....................................    104
VII. —The Woman who was a Sinner,........... 133
VIII.-The Collision with the Pharisees —The first Parables-The Stilling of the Tempest-The Demoniac of Gadara,......................... 151
IX. —The Mission of the Twelve,......................... 192
X.-The Feeding of the Five Thousand, and the
Walking upon the Water,................... 213




VI                    C    2oiNTr8.
PAGo
XI —The Discourse in the Synagogue of Capernaum, 232
XII.-Pharisaic Traditions —The Syro-Phcenician Woman,...................................   259
XIII.-The Circuit through Decapolis,................ 278
XIV.-The Apostolic Confession at Csesarea-Philippi,.. 295
XV. —The Rebuke of Saint Peter,................... 314
XVL-The Transfiguration,.........................  335
Note,......................................  854




THE 3IINISTRY IN  GALILEE.
I.
THE TWO HEALINGS-THE LEPER AND THE
PARALYTIC.*
IN describing our Lord's first circuit through
Galilee, the Evangelist tells us that " they
brought unto him all sick people that were
taken with divers diseases and torments, and
those which were possessed with devils, and
those which were lunatic, and those that had
the palsy; and he healed them."t How many
and how varied were the cures effected within
the course of this first itineracy of our Lord
can only be conceived by remembering how
numerous were the towns and villages through
which he passed, and how large the population
* Matt. viii. 24; Mark i. 40-45, ii 1-12; Luke v. 12-26.
f Matt. iv. 24.




2           THE Two HEALINGS.
with which, one way or other, He was brought
into contact.* Remembering this, we may
believe that within a week or two after his
first departure from Capernaum more healings
were effected than the whole put together, of
which any specific record has been preserved
in the Four Gospels.
There was one form of disease, however,
which is not noticed in St. Matthew's compendious description-a disease peculiar enough in
its own character, but to which an additional
peculiarity attached from the manner in which
it was dealt with by the Mosaic law. However
infectious, however deadly, however incurable,
no disease but one was held to render its victim ceremonially unclean. Such uncleanness
was stamped by the law upon the leper alone.
This strange, creeping, spreading, loathsome,
fatal disease appears to have been selected as
the one form of bodily affliction to stand, in the
legal impurity attached to it, and in the penalties visited on that impurity, as a type of the
deep, inward, pervading, corrupting, destroying malady of sin.
Among the Jews the leper was excommunicated. Cut off from the congregation of the
* Earlier Years, p. 396.




THE LEPER AND THE PARALYTIC.     3
people, he had to live apart, enjoying only
such society as those afflicted with the same
disease could offer. He had to bear upon his
person the emblems of sorrow and of death;
had to wear the rent garments which those
wore who were weeping for the dead; to shave
hi, head and keep it bare as those must do
who had touched the dead-'himself the living
dead, for whom those emblems of mourning
needed to be assumed. His face half covered,
he had to go about crying, " Unclean, unclean,"
to warn all others off, lest they should come
too near to him.
From what we know of the prevalence of
this disease, it may be believed that there were
many lepers in Galilee when our Lord made
his first journey through it-gathered here and
there illto small and miserable communities.
Even among these the tidings of the wonderful
curos that were being effected would circulate,
for the segregation was not so complete as to
prevent all intercourse; and when these poor
exiles from their fellows heard of many being
healed whose complaints were as much beyond
all human remedy as theirs, the hope might
spring up in their hearts that the Great Healer's
powers extended even to their case. But




4             THE Two HEATINGS.
which of them had faith enough to make the
trial-to break through the legal fences imposed, and go into any of the cities in which
Jesus was, and throw himself upon his sympathy for succor? One such there was-the
first of those so afflicted who ventured to approach the Lord; and his case on that account
was selected for special record by all the three
Evangelists. He came to Jesus "when he was
in a certain city."* He had never seen the
Lord before, or seen him only at a distance,
among a crowd. IIe could have known or
heard but little more about him than what the
voice of rumor had proclaimed. Yet so soon
as he recognizes him, see with what reverence
he kneels and worships and falls on his face before him,t- and hear how he salutes and pleads,
" Lord, if thou wilt, thou caust make me clean."
Perhaps Jesus had never seen a man prostrate
himself in his presence as this man did.  Certainly, Jesus was never before addressed ih
words so few and simple, yet so full of reverence, earnestness, faith, submission. He called
* Had the name of that city been given, it might have helped to
trace the course that Jesus was taking, but here, as in many
other instances, the means of identification are denied.
+ Luke v. 12.




THE LEPER AND THE PARALYTIC.    5
Jesus Lord. Was this the first time that Jesus
had been so addressed? Sir, Rabbi, Masterthese were the terms in which Andrew, and
Nathanael, and Nicodemus, and the woman of
Samaria, and the nobleman of Capernaum, had
addressed him. None of them had spoken to
him as this leper did. If, indeed, the miraculous draught of fishes by which Peter had
been finally summoned away from his old occupation had already occurred, then it would be
from his lips that this title was first heard coming, when he fell down at Jesus' feet exclaiming, "Depart from me, for I am a sinful man,
O Lord." That, however, is uncertain; but
though it were true, how much had Simon to
elevate his conception of Christ's character,how little this leper! One wonders, indeed,
how far he, had got in his idea of who this
Jesus —this healer of diseases-was. All that
we can know is that he chose the highest title
that he knew of, and bestowed it on him.
"Lord, if thou wilt, thou canst."  No hesitation as to the power; no presumption or dictation as to the will. Upon that free will, upon
that almighty power, he casts himself. " Lord,
if thou wilt, thou canst make me clean." Jesus
instantly went forward-went close to him



6          TiuE Two HITmGS.
put forth his hand and touched him: His disciples hold back; a strange shuddering sensation passes through the hearts of the onlookers,
for, by the law of Moses,. it was forbidden to
touch a leper. He who touched a leper himself became unclean. Yet at once, without
hesitation at the time-without acting afterwards as if he had contracted any defilement
or required any purification-Jesus lays his
hand upon one who was " full of leprosy," and he
says to him, "I will, be thou clean."  We lose
a little of the power and majesty of our Saviour's
translation.  Two words were spoken, (OdEcw,
xac.apz'la.qrz,) the answer, the echo to the
prayer; two of the very words the man had used
taken up and employed by Jesus in framing his
prompt and gracious reply. No petition that
was ever presented to Jesus met with a quicker,
more complete, more satisfactory response. If
our Lord's conduct in this instance was regulated by the principle which we know so often
guided it in the treatment he gave to those
who came to him to be cured, great must have
been the faith which was met in such a way.
Tile readiness which Jesus had displayed to
exert his power may partly have been due to
this being the first case of a leper's application




THE LEPER AND THE PARLYTIC.     7
to him, and to his desire to show that no legal
barrier would be allowed by him to stand in
the way of his stretching forth his hand to heal
all that were diseased. Yet the manner and
the speech of the leper himself attest that he
approached with no ordinary reverence, and
petitioned with no ordinary faith. And, according to his faith, it was done unto him immediately. As soon as the words "I will, be
thou clean," had come from the Saviour's lips,
"the leprosy departed from him, and he was
cleansed."
Did any further colloquy take place between
the healed and the Healer? When, quick as
lightning, through the frame the sensation
passed of an entirely recovered health-when
he stood up before the Lord, not a sign or
symptom of the banished leprosy on his persondid no thanks burst from his grateful lips? or
did our Lord say nothing to him about another
healing which he was both willing and able to
effect? We are not to infer that nothing of
the kind occurred because nothing is recorded.
The Evangelists have preserved alone the fact
that, whatever words may have passed between
them, Jesus was in haste to send the leper
away, and in doing so gave him strict com



8           THE T Two HEALINGS.
mand to tell no man, but to go instantly and
show himself to the priest, and offer the gifts
that Moses commanded-the live birds and the
cedar wood, and the scarlet and hyssop,-the
means and instruments by which the purification of one declared free of leprosy was to be
effected, and, relieved from the ban that had
been laid upon him, he was to be reinstated in
the possession of all the commcn privileges of
society and citizenship. It is quite possible
that, knowing the opposition which was already
kindling against him, of which we shall presently see traces, Jesus may have desired that,
without throwing out any hint of what had occurred which might precede him by the way
and prejudice the judge, this man should repair
as quickly as possible to the priest upon whom
it devolved judicially to declare that he, so recently a man full of leprosy, was now entirely
free of the complaint. It would be a testimony
they could not well gainsay, if the fact of the
departure of the leprosy were attested by the
acceptance of the officer's gifts and his re-admission into the congregation of Israel. To
prevent any possibility of this ratification of
the reality of the cure being refused, Jesus
might have enjoined silence and as speedy a




THE LEPER AND THE PARALYTIC.     9
resort as possible to the priest; the silence in
such circumstances and with such a view prescribed, to last only till the desired end was
gained. It would seem, however, from the result, that a more immediate object of the Saviour in laying this injunction upon the leper
was to prevent the influx of a still greater
crowd than that which was already oppressing
him, and thus the hampering of his movements,
and the absorption of too much of his time in
the mere work of healing. For straightway,
though charged to keep silence, the man when
he went from Jesus could not restrain himself,
but "began to publish it much, and to blaze
abroad the matter, insomuch that great multitudes came together to be healed of their infirmities, and Jesus could no more openly enter
into the city, but was without in desert places,
and withdrew himself into the wilderness, and
prayed."*
Again, a second time, as it was after that
busy Sabbath in Capernaum, and before his
first journey through Galilee, so now, at the
close of this circuit and under the pressure of
the multitude that beset his path, Jesus is
* Mark i. 45; Luke v. 15, 16.




10          TmE Two HIANGs.
driven forth from the city's crowded haunts to
seek the solitary place, where, for some hours
at least, he may enjoy unbroken communion
with Heaven. To watch how and when it was
that he took refuge thus in prayer, mingling
devotion with activity, the days of bustle with
the hours of quiet, intercourse with man in fellowship with God, let this be one of our cherished employments, following the earthly footsteps of our Lord: for nothing is more fitted to
impress upon us the lesson,-how needful, how
serviceable it is, if we would walk and work
rightly among or for others around us, that we
be often alone with our Father which is in
heaven. A life all action will be as bad for
our own soul as a life all prayer would be profitless for others. It is the right and happy
blending, each.in its due proportion, of stillness
and of action, of work and prayer, which promotes true spiritual health and growth; and
the weaker we are-the more easily at once
distracted and absorbed by much bustling activity-so much the more of reflection, retirement, and devotion is needed to temper our
spirit aright, and to keep it in harmony with
that of our Lord and Master.
It is as impossible to tell how long a time it




THE LEPER AND THE PARALYTIC.    11
took to make the first round of the Galilean
towns and villages, as it is to define the line or
circle along which Jesus moved. One high authority* concludes that it must have occupied
between two and three months: another,t that
it did not occupy more than four or five days.
A period of intermediate length would probably be nearer the truth than either. On completing the circuit he returned to Capernaurn,
to take up his abode again in Peter's house.
No rest was given him. The news of his return
passed rapidly through the town, and straightway so many were gathered together "that
there was no room to receive them, no, not so
much as about the door."  We must remember
here, in order to understand what followed, the
form of a Jewish house, and the materials of
which its roof was ordinarily composed. There
is not now, and there never seems to have been,
much variety in the shape of a Syrian dwellinghouse. Externally they all present the one dull
uniform appearance of so many cubes or
squares, seldom more than one story high —
the outer walls showing no windows, nor any
opening on the level of the ground except the
* Greswell.     t Ellicott.




12          THE Two HEALINGS.
door. On entering you pass through a lesser
court, into which alone strangers are admitted,
and then into the inner uncovered square into
which the different apartments of the building
open. In one corner, either of the outer or inner court-generally in the latter-there is a
flight of steps conducting to the roof, a place of
frequent resort at all times, and in the hotter
months of summer turned into the sleepingplace of the household. The larger houses, in
which the wealthier inhabitants reside, are all
separate from one another. The lesser are often
without any open court-yard, and built close together, so that you could pass readily from roof
to roof. These roofs, always flat, are formed of
bricks or tiles, or more generally of a compost
of mud and straw, which a day's such rain as
we often have would entirely demolish. Whatever the size of the houses be, or however they
be situated relatively to each other, in one way
or other, either by a staircase within the court —
open, of course, only to the family to which the
house belongs —or by a flight of steps withoutwhich, when the houses are contiguous, may
serve many households as a common means of
access-the roof of each dwelling is easily
reached. We do not need to settle what size




THE LEPER AND THE PABALYTIC.     13
the dwelling was in Capernaum where Jesus
took up his abode; we have only to imagine it
to be of the usual and invariable Syrian type,
to render the narrative inftelligible.
A crowd assembles and fills the room of the
house in which Jesus sits and teaches. At first
this crowd is not so dense but that a single individual may pass through it, and in this way
one and another of the diseased did press
through, and the power of the Lord was there
to heal them. But the crowd grew and thickened, it overflowed the room, it filled the street
before the door, till every spot within reach of
Christ's voice was occupied, and still there were
new comers pressing in to try and catch a word;
and to the work of healing within an effectual
stop seems now to have been put. At this stage
four men appear, bearing a sick man on a litter.
They reach the crowd, they try to enter, they
entreat, they expostulate; the thing is hopeless,
that four men with such a burden ever shall get
through.  Is the project to be given up, tile
great chance lost?   The bearers consult the
man they carry. He is paralytic, cannot move
a limb, can do nothing for himself. But he is
in full possession of his faculties, the spirit is
entire within. It was his eagerness to be healed,




14          THE Two HEALNGS.
still more than their readiness to help him, that
had led these four men to lift him and carry
him so far, and they are ready still to do anything-anything they can. Some one suggests
-who so likely as the paralytic himself? —that
they might get upon the roof, lift up so much
of it as was required, and let down before Christ
the bed on which the patient lay; a singular, an
extreme step to take, yet one to which men who
were resolved to do anything rather than lose the
opportunity, might not refuse to have recourse.
They all were strong in the belief that if
only they could get at Jesus the cure would
be effected, but the paralytic himself had an
eager craving to get into the Saviour's presence, deeper than that springing from the desire to have his bodily ailment removed. The
stroke that had taken the strength out his
body had quickened conscience. He had recognized it as coming from the hand of Godit had awakened within him a sense of his
great and manifold bygone transgressions.
His sins had taken hold of him, and the burden was too heavy for him to bear. He hears
of Jesus that he had announced himself as the
healer of the broken-hearted; that there is a
Gospel, good tidings that he proclaims to the




THE LEPFER AND THE PARALYTIC.    15
poor in spirit. If ever a heart needed healing,
a spirit needed comforting, it is his. And
now, shall he be so near to him whom he has
been so anxious to see, and yet to have to go
away disappointed, unrelieved? He either
himself suggests, or, when suggested, he warmly approves, the project of trying to let him
down through the roof. The bearers second
his desires. They make the effort-they succeed; noiselessly they lift the tiles-gently
they let down the bed, and before Jesus, as he
is speaking, the bed and its burden lie.
But now, before noticing how Jesus met this
interruption of his discourse, and dealt with
the man who was so curiously obtruded on his
notice, let us look around a moment on the
strangely constituted audience which Christ at
this moment is addressing. Close beside him
are his disciples-around him are many simpleminded, simple-hearted men, drinking in with
wonder words they scarce half understand.
But they are not all friendly listeners who are
there, for there are "Pharisees and doctors
of the law sitting by," some from Galilee, some
from Judea, some even from Jerusalem. The
last-what has brought them here? They
come as spies-they come as emissaries from




16          THE Two HEALINGS.
the men who reproved Jesus at Jerusalem for
his healing of another paralytic at the pool of
Bethesda, on the Sabbath day, and who
sought to slay him, " because he had not only
broken the Sabbath, but said also that God
was his Father, making himself equal with
God." Already these Pharisees counted Jesus
a blasphemer, whose life they were seeking
but the fit ground and occasion to cut off.
And here are some of their number wearing
the mask, waiting and watching, little knowing
all the while that an eye is on them which
follows every turn of their thoughts, and sees
into all the secret places of their hearts. It is
as one who thus thoroughly knew them, and
would with his own hand throw a fresh stone
of stumbling before their feet-as one who
thoroughly knew also the poor, helpless, palsied penitent, who lies on the bed before him,
that Jesus now speaks and acts. Meeting
those pleading eyes that are fixed so importunately upon him, without making any inquiries or waiting to have any petition presented,
Son," he says to the sick of the palsy, " be of
good cheer, thy sins be forgiven thee." He
would not have addressed him thus had he not
known how greatly he needed to be cheered,




THE LEPER AND THE PARALYnO.     17
how gladly he would welcome the pardon, in
what a suitable condition he was to have that
pardon bestowed.
Let us believe then that, spoken with nicest
adaptation to the man's state and wants, Christ's
words were with power-that as quickly and
as thoroughly as the words, "I will, be thou
clean," banished the leprosy from the one man's
body, as quickly and as thoroughly these words
banished the gloom and despondency from this
man's soul. Thus spoken to by one in whom
he had full confidence, he was of good cheer,
and did assuredly believe that his sins had been
forgiven him. If it was so-if his faith in Jesus
as his soul's deliverer was as simple and as
strong as, from the way in which Christ spoke,
we presume it was-then too happy would he
be at the moment when the blessedness of him
whose sins are forgiven, whose iniquity is covered, filled his heart, to think of anything beside. He is silent at least, he is satisfied, he
makes no remonstrance, he proffers no request.
There is nothing going on within his breast that
Jesus needs to drag forth to light, to detect
and to rebuke. Not so with the Scribes and
Pharisees, upon whom those words of Jesus
have had a quite startling effect. They, too,




18          TIE Two Hamas.
are silent; nor, beyond the glances of wonder,
horror, hate, that they hastily and furtively exchange, do they give any outward sign of what
is passing in their hearts. But Jesus knows it
all. They had been saying within themselves,
"This man blasphemeth;" they had been reasoning in their hearts, to their own entire satisfaction and to Christ's utter condemnation, saying, " Why doth this man thus speak blasphenmies? Who can forgive sins but God only?"
Notwithstanding all their self-assurance, they
must have been a little startled when, the
thoughts of their hearts revealed, Jesus said to
them, "Why reason ye these things in your
hearts? Whether is it easier to say to the sick
of the palsy, Thy sins be forgiven thee; or to
say, Arise, and take up thy bed, and walk?"
He does not ask which was easier, to forgive
sins or to cure a palsy, but which was easier,
to say the one or to say the other, for he knew
that they had been secretly thinking how easy
it was for any man to say to another, Thy sins
be forgiven thee, but how impossible it was for
him to make good such a saying.  "But that
ye may know," he added, "that the Son of
Man hath power on earth to forgive sins (then
saith he to the sick of the palsy,) Arise and




THE LEPER AND THE PARALYTIC.    19
take up thy bed, and go thy way into thine
house." The man arose and departed to his
own house-healed in body, healed in spirit —
glorifying God. The people saw it, and were
amazed, and were filled with awe; and they
said to one another, " We never saw it in this
fashion-we have seen strange things to-day."
And " they glorified God which had given such
power to men." The Scribes and Pharisees
saw it, and had palpable evidence of the superhuman knowledge and superhuman power of
Christ given to them-had a miracle wrought
before their eyes in proof of Christ's possession
of a prerogative which they were right in thinking belonged to God only, but they would not
let anything convince them that the Son of Man
had power on earth to forgive sins; and it was
not long, as we shall see, ere new stumblingblocks were thrown in their way, over which
they fell.
Our Saviour, in bodily presence, has now
passed away from us. He can touch us no more
with his living finger; he banishes no more our
bodily diseases with a word; but the leprosy of
the heart-the spreading, pervading taints of
ungodliness, selfishness, malignity, impurity —
these it is his office still to cure; these it is our




20          THE Two HIEALNS.
duty still to carry to him to have removed; and
if we go in the spirit of him who said, Lord, if
thou wilt, thou canst make me clean, the cleansing virtue will not be withheld.
The Son of Man had power on earth to forgive sins; he exercised that power; he absolved
at once the penitent of Capernaum from all his
sins; he caused that man to taste the joy of an
immediate, gracious, free, and full forgiveness
What is to hinder our receiving the same bene
fit-enjoying the same blessing?  Has the Son
of Man lost any of his power to forgive sins by
his being no more upon this earth, his having
passed into the heavens? Is pardon a boon
that he no longer dispenses, that he holds now
suspended over our heads-a thing to be hoped
for but never to be had? No, let us believe
that his mission on earth has not so failed in its
great object; that he is as willing as he is able
to say and do for each of us what he said and
did for the palsied man in Peter's house at Capernaum; that he waits but to see us penitent
and broken-hearted, looking to and trusting in
him, to say in turn to each of us, "SonDaughter-be of good cheer, thy sins be forgiven thee."




II.
THE CHARGE OF BABBATH-BREAKING.*
IT was a common saying among the Jews,
that whoever did any work on the Sabbath
day, denied the work of the creation. The saying was grounded on the fact that one principal
end of the Sabbatic institute was, by its continued and faithful observance, to preserve a
knowledge of, and a faith in, the one Living
and True God as the Creator of all things. As
being a most explicit and expressive embodiment in outward act and habit of the faith of
the Jewish people, that in six days the Lord
made heaven and earth, and the sea and all
that in them is, it was chosen by God as a fit
and appropriate sign of the peculiar relationship
towards Him into which that people had been
brought-the peculiar standing which among
other nations it was to occupy. "Six days
* Mark i. 1-31; John v. 1.47; Matt. xii. 1-14; John ix. 14;
Luke xiii. 10-17; xiv. 1-6.




22             THE CHARGE
shalt thou labor, and do all thy work: but the
seventh day is the Sabbath of the Lord thy
God: in it thou shalt not do any work, thou,
nor thy son, nor thy daughter, nor thy manservant, nor thy maid-servant, nor the stranger
that is within thy gates; that thy man-servant
and thy maid-servant may rest as well as thou.
And remember that thou wast a servant in the
land of Egypt, and that the Lord thy God
brought thee out thence through a mighty hand
and by a stretched-out arm: therefore, the
Lord thy God commanded thee to keep the
Sabbath day."* "Wherefore the children of
Israel shall keep the Sabbath, to observe the
Sabbath throughout their generations, for a perpetual covenant. It is a sign between me and
the children of Israel forever." t  "Moreover
also I gave them my Sabbaths, to be a sign between me and them, that they might know that
I am the Lord that sanctify them. Hallow my
Sabbaths; that ye may know that I am the
Lord your God." ~
There was no rite, nor institution, not even
circumcision, by which the Jews were more
conspicuously distinguished from surrounding
*Deut. v. 13-15.  + Exod. xxxi. 16, 17.  T Ezek. xx. 12, 20.




ON SABBATH-BREAKING.        23
nations, and marked off as the worshippers of
Jehovah, the Creator of the ends of the earth.
Their Sabbath-keeping was a perpetual and
visible token of the connection in which they
they stood to God, and of the great mission
which, under him, they were set apart to discharge. But how was the Sabbath to be kept
so as to serve this end? Looking back here to
the original statutes, and to the earlier practice
of the Jewish people, you will find that there
was but one positive injunction given: the cessation from all manner of work. The rest enjoined, however, could not be the rest of total
and absolute inactivity. The work from which
they were to cease could not be every doing
of the human hand. Obviously it was the
work of men's ordinary occupation or trades,
the work by which the hours of common labor
were filled by those engaged therein. There is,
indeed, one prohibition, the only one, in which
there is a specification of the kind of work to
be desisted from, which would seem to point to
a narrower interpretation of the original command. When Moses had gathered all the congregation of Israel together at the base of
Sinai, and the people were about to enter on
the construction of the ark and the tabernacle,




24             THE CHARGE
knowing with what hearty enthusiasm they
were inspired, he prefaced his instructions as
to the manner in which they should carry on
the work, by saying, "Six days shall work be
done, but on the seventh day there shall be to
you a holy day, a Sabbath of rest to the Lord;
ye shall kindle no fire throughout your habitations on the Sabbath day." They did not
need to be told to kindle no fire for any ordinary culinary purposes. A double portion of
the manna fell upon the day preceding the
Sabbath, and they were to seethe and bake the
whole of it, so that no preparation of food on
the Sabbath was required. Issued under such
peculiar circumstances, it seems not unreasonable to believe that the particular object of the
Mosaic injunction was to check the ardor of
those who might otherwise have been tempted
to carry on the mouldings and the castings in
gold and silver on the Sabbath as on other days:
not that the Jews of all after generations were
prohibited by Divine command from having a
fire burning in their dwellings, for whatever
purpose kindled, on the Sabbath day.
When we turn from what was prohibited to
what was enjoined, we find a blank. ODe or
two specific injunctions were indeed laid upon




ON SABBATH-BREAKING.        25
the priests. The daily sacrifices were to be
doubled, and the shew-bread baked upon the
Sabbath was to be renewed. That there was
no Sabbatism in the Temple became in this
way a proverb. But for the people at large
there were no minute instructions as to how
the day was to be spent. It could not have
been made imperative on them to assemble for
public worship on that day, for during the
times of the Jewish theocracy there was no
place but one-the Temple-for such worship,
and the meeting there each seventh day was
impossible. It was not till after the captivity
that synagogues were erected all over the land,
in which weekly assemblages for worship did
take place; but that was done, not in obedience to any Divine command. It would seem,
indeed, to have been the practice of the Jews,
from the beginning, to gather round their prophets on the Sabbath days, and to avail themselves of such means of religious instruction as
they could command. Parents took advantage
of the rest to teach the. law unto their children.
But there was no peculiar religious observance
prescribed. The day was spent in rest, in
thankfulness, in gladness; spent to a great extent as the festival days of other countries were




26             THE CHARGE
spent. Dressed in their best attire, indulging in better fare, it was to feasting rather
than to fasting that the Sabbath was devoted.
But, as the faith of the people grew weak, and
their allegiance to their Divine Sovereign
faltered, they grew neglectful of the Sabbath,
and began to profane the day by breaking in
upon that rest from all the ordinary occupations
of life, which should has e been observed.
Thus it was that, among other distinctive marks
of their peculiarity as a consecrated people, the
only worshippers of the Great Creator, this one
became obscured and well-nigh obliterated.
In the latest years of the Hebrew commonwealth, prophet after prophet was raised up to
testify against those defections from the faith,
among which that of neglecting and profaning
the Sabbath occupied a conspicuous place.
After the captivity, on the restoration of the
Jews to their own land, the same lax habits
prevailed. "In those days," says Nehemiah,
"saw I in Judah some treading wine-presses on
the Sabbath, and bringing in sheaves, and lading
asses; as also wine, grapes, and figs, and all
manner of burdens, which they brought into
Jerusalem on the Sabbath day: and I testified
against them in the day wherein they sold vict



ON SABBATH-BREAKING.        27
uals."* Nehemiah did more than testify. Alert
and decisive in all his movements, he had the
gates of Jerusalem shut when it began to be
dark before the Sabbath, and kept them shut
till the Sabbath was over. It is in the light of
his sayings and doings that we are to interpret
the utterance from the lips of Jeremiah: "Thus
saith the Lord: Take heed to yourselves, and
bear no burden on the Sabbath day, nor bring
it in by the gates of Jerusalem; neither carry
forth a burden out of your houses on the Sabbath day, neither do ye any work, but hallow
ye the Sabbath day, as I commanded your
fathers."t
A singular change came over the spirit and
habits of the Jewish people after the restoration
from the Babylonian captivity. Previously, in
the days of the kings and prophets, they were
ever and anon showing a tendency to idolatry;
subsequently no such tendency appears. Previously they had been neglectful of many of the
distinctive rites and ceremonies of their faith;
subsequently they became strict and punctilious
in their observance of them. Great national
calamities-the persecution under the successors
* Neh. xiii. 15.  t Jer. xvii. 21.




28             THE CHARGE
of Alexander the Great, the wars of the Maccabees, the aggression of the Romans, the ascent
into power of the Idumean family of the Herods,
the establishment of the schools of the Rabbis
— all conspired to intensify the national pride
and religious bigotry of the Jews; who, as they
had nothing but the old laws and traditions to
cling to, clung to them with all the more tenacious grasp. The sect of the Pharisees arose,
and carried the popular sympathy along with
it. Everything regarded as purely and peculiarly Judaic was exaggerated. Punctilious observance of the old ritual was the one great
merit compensating for all defects; whilst
around the simpler statute-law of Moses there
arose an oral or traditional law, growing continually in bulk and overshadowing the prilnitive Mosaic institute. It had been a less evil
had the original enactments of that institute
continued to be rightly and liberally interpreted. Instead of this, the narrowest and
most rigid interpretation was the only one allowed; and upon each statute as so interpreted
additions and explanations were heaped, of such
a character as to turn more and more the keeping of them into a mere matter of external
routine and outward performance. So fared it




ON SABBATH-BREAKING.        29
with the old, broad and benignant law as to
the Sabbath. Its primary injunction, "Thou
shalt do no manner of work," was falsely held
as aimed at all kinds of work whatever; no less
than thirty-nine kinds or classes of work being
specified as involved in the prohibition. It was
ruled thus that grass should not be trodden on
the Sabbath, for the bruising of it was a species
of harvest work; that shoes with nails should
not be worn, as that was the carrying a burden.
To what absurd excesses such a spirit of interpretation led may be gathered from the single
instance of its being actually laid down in the
Mishna that a tailor must not go out with his
needle near dusk on the eve of the Sabbath, lest
he should forget and carry it with him on the
Sabbath. In all this there was not only a wrong
rendering of the Mosaic precept, but beyond,
and much worse than that, there was the erection of a false standard of duty, a false test of
piety-the elevation of the outward, the positive, the ceremonial, over the inwar(l, the
moral, the spiritual; the putting of the letter
that killeth above the spirit which maketh
alive.
Now let us see how, born and brought up
among a people filled with such prejudices,




30             THE CHARGE
Jesus regulated his conduct. He knew that
healing the diseased on the Sabbath day would
be regarded as a breach of the Divine law,
would shock the Pharisees, and run counter to
the convictions of the great mass of the community. Did he abstain from effecting cures
upon that day? He might easily have done so,
as no applications were made to him. Much
as they desired to have the benefit conferred,
the people shrank from bringing their diseased
to be cured on the holy day. Jesus had only
to meet their prejudices by doing nothing.
But he did not choose to be thus silent and
acquiescent. No less than seven miracles are
recorded as wrought by him on the Sabbath
day, some of them among the most conspicuous
and memorable in his ministry: —1. The cure
of the paralytic on the occasion of his second
visit to Jerusalem. 2. The cure of the demoniac in the synagogue of Capernaum, when
opening his ministry in Galilee. 3. The cure
of Peter's wife's mother, the same afternoon, in
the same city. 4. The cure of a man with a
withered hand, a few Sabbaths afterwards, in
the same city. 5. The cure of the man born
blind, who sat begging in the porch of the
Temple at Jerusalem. 6. The cure of a wo



ON SABBATH-BREAKING.       31
man who had the spirit of infirmity for eighteen
years. 7. The cure of the man with a dropsy
who happened to be present at a feast given
on a Sabbath (lay in the house of a chief publican, an invitation to which Jesus had accepted.
Not one of these was effected in answer to any
application made. They were all spontaneous,
done of Christ's own free will and motion.
Nor was there, in regard to most of them, any
urgency, requiring that the healing should have
been done that day, if done at all. Jesus might
have chosen another day rather than the Sabbath to walk through the crowded porches of
Bethesda. The impotent man had lain too
long there to make a day earlier or a day later
of much moment to him. It was the same
with the blind beggar of Jerusalem: and these
were the two instances of cures upon the Sabbath day which drew most public notice and
were attended with the most important results.
But Jesus was not content with simply relieving the sufferers on these occasions. He did
himself, or he bade his patients do, what he
was well aware would attract the eye and draw
down upon it the condemnation of the priesthood. How easy had it been for him at Bethesda to have cured the man in passing, and told




32             THE CEARGE
himl to lie quietly there till next day, so that no
one should have known anything of the cure.
But he told him to take up his bed and carry
it through the streets, obtruding thus on the eye
of the spectators an act which seemed to be an
open and flagrant breach of the command delivered by Jeremiah, "Thus saith the Lord:
Take heed to yourselves, and bear no burden
on the Sabbath day."* In curing the man
born blind he spat on the ground and made
clay of the spittle, and anointed the eyes of
the man with the ointment, and said unto him,
Go wash in the pool of Siloam; both which
acts, the making and applying the ointment,
and the washing in the sacred fountain, were
deemed to be desecrations of the Sabbath. It
thus appears that he not only voluntarily selected the Sabbath as the day for performing
the cures, but wrought them in such a way, or
accompanied with such directions, as forced
them into notice, and involved others as well
as himself in what was considered a crime of
the deepest dye-involving in fact the penalty
of death.
The paralytic of the porches and the blind
*Jer. xvii. 21.




O0  SABBATH-BREAKIG.         33
beggar of the wayside could both indeed plead
in their justification the command of their
healer, and Jesus took upon himself the full responsibilities of their acts. In meeting the first
challenge of his conduct as a Sabbath-breaker,
Christ was content, as appears from the narrative in the fifth chapter of St. John's Gospel, to
rest his defence on his Sonship to the Fathera sonship that might seem to entitle him to
claim and exercise a liberty of action to which
no other might legitimately aspire. But, putting that Sonship aside, had Christ's act in healing, and the man's act in carrying his bed, been
violations of the Sabbath law?  This question
was left unsettled by our Lord's first defence
of himself against the accusation of the Pharisees. It served to bring the matter out, not as
one of Christ's peculiar character, position, and
rights, but as one having reference simply to
the true interpretation of the existing law, when
it was an act of the disciples on which the
charge of Sabbath-breaking was founded. One
Sabbath day he and his disciples were walking
through some cornfields in which the grain was
already white unto the harvest. The disciples
being an hungered, began to pluck the ears of
corn, to rub them in their hands, and eat. In




04             THE CHARGE
doing so, there was no violation by them, as
there would be with us, of the rights of property. The old Jewish law ran thus:-" When
thou comest into the standing corn of thy
neighbor, then thou mayest pluck the ears with
thine hand; but thou shalt not move a sickle
unto thy neighbor's standing corn."*
The law and practice of Palestine continue
to be this day what they were so many thousand years ago. We travelled in that country
once in spring. Our course lay through it before the ears of corn were full, but nothing
surprised us more than the liberties which our
guides took in riding through the fields and letting their horses eat as much of the standing
corn as they pleased. We felt at first as if we
were trespassers and thieves, but were relieved
by finding that it was done under the eye, and
with the full consent, of the owners of the crops.
There was nothing wrong, then, in what the
disciples of Jesus did. But it was done upon
the Sabbath day, which was thought to be unlawful. And there were men who were watching-dogging the steps of Jesus and his disciples, perhaps to see whether in their walk they
* Deut. xxiii. 25.




OF SABBATH-BREAKING.       35
would exceed the distance to which a Sabbathday's journey had been restricted. So soon as
those lynx-eyed men observe what the disciples
were doing, they inform the Pharisees, who go
to Jesus to say, " Behold, thy disciples do that
which is not lawful to do upon the Sabbath
day." They were only expressing the popular
belief which they had helped to form. It had
come to be generally believed that plucking
and rubbing in the hand ears of corn was work
that the Sabbath law condemned. Jesus threw
a shield of defence over the act of his disciples
by referring to the conduct of David, esteemed
to be a model of Jewish piety. Once when he
and his men were an hungered, he had not
scrupled to break the rules, to violate the sanctity of the Holy Place. We may believe that
it was on a Sabbath day he did so. Doubly
appropriate, therefore, was the reference to it;
but it was not essential to Christ's argument
that the act was done upon the Sabbath day.
What Christ mainly desired by his allusion to
the case of David, was to establish the principle
that the pressure of hunger vindicated the set.
ting aside for the time of the strictest even of
the Temple regulations. But these regulations,
and the whole Temple service which they sus



36             TiE CHARGE
tained, were held to be of such superior importance to the Sabbatic law, that when both
could not be kept, the latter had to give way.
A vast amount of what elsewhere would have
been accounted as Sabbath-breaking went on
every Sabbath day in the Temple. If the
Temple, then, carried it over the Sabbath, and
hunger carried it over the Temple, as free of
fault as David and his men were —so free of
fault. were Christ's disciples. To whatever
their hunger was due, it had come upon them
owing to their connection with him; and if in
Jerusalem the Temple towered above the Sabbath and threw its protection over its servants
engaged in its work, here in the fields of Galilee
was one greater than the Temple, throwing his
protection over his disciples as they followed
him. They, too, must be acquitted.
But it is not enough that the act of his disciples be in this way vindicated. Our Lord
seizes the opportunity to let the Pharisees
know that they had mistaken the spirit and object of the ceremonial law, and particularly of
the Sabbatic institute. " But if ye had known,"
he added, "what this meaneth, I will have
mercy and not sacrifice, ye would not have condemned the guiltless."'Jesus quotes here




OF SABBATH-BREANG.          37
from the Book of Hosea* a saying which more
than once he repeated. It was not a solitary
one. Much to the same effect were the words
which the first of the Prophets addressed to
the first of the Kings: "Hath the Lord as
great delight in burnt-offerings and sacrifices,
as in obeying the voice of the Lord? Behold,
to obey is better than sacrifice, and to hearken
than the fat of rams."t  The wisest of the
Kings responds to the words of Samuel in the
proverb, " To do justice and judgment is more
acceptable to the Lord than sacrifice."t Isaiah
and Jeremiah put words of the same import
into Jehovah's lips: "I delight not, saith the
Lord, in the blood of bullocks, or of lambs, or
of he-goats. Wash you, make you clean; put
away the evil of your doings from before mine
eyes; cease to do evil; learn to do well."
"Thus saith the Lord of hosts, the God of
Israel: I spake not unto your fathers, nor
commanded them in the day that I brought
them out of the land of Egypt, concerning
blrnt-offerings or sacrifices; but this thing
commanded I them, Obey my voice, and I will
be your God, and ye shall be my people; and
* Hos. vi. 6.  t 1 Sam. xv. 22.  1 Prov. xxi. 3.




88              TiE CARiGE
walk ye in all the ways that I have commanded
you, that it may be well unto you."* There
is something singularly impressive in hearing
such emphatic testimonies to the comparative
worthlessness of sacrifices and offerings, of all
merely ritualistic observances issuing from the
heart of the old Jewish economy; spoken at
the very time when all those statutes and ordinances of the Lord were in full force, that define so minutely, and prescribe so peremptorily
the formalities of Jewish worship.
Jesus, in quoting one of these testimonies,
and applying it to the case of his disciples' conduct, puts Sabbath-keeping, so far as it consisted merely in abstaining from this or that kind
of work, in the same category as sacrifice, regarding it as part of that formal and external
mode of honoring and serving the Supreme
which ought never to stand in the way of any
work of need or of benevolence. Had the Pharisees but listened to the voice of their own prophets, they would have understood this; but,
deaf to that voice, they had drawn tighter and
tighter the bonds of the required Sabbatic service, ever narrowing the field of what was al* Isa. i. 11, 16; Jer. vii. 21, 23.




OF SABBATH-BRE AING.       39
lowable on the seventh day, till they had laid
a yoke upon men's shoulders too heavy for
them to bear. From this yoke, at all hazard
to himself, Jesus will relieve his countrymen,
proclaiming ill their ears the great and pregnant
truth, "The Sabbath was made for man, and
not man for the Sabbath." The Sabbath is but
a means to an end; that end is, man's present
comfort, his spiritual and eternal good. Wherever, therefore, the keeping of the Sabbath in
the way prescribed, instead of promoting would
frustrate that end, it was more honored in the
breach than in the observance. It was never
to be regarded as in itself an end. Apart from
the physical, social, moral, and religious benefits
to be thereby realized, there was no merit in
painfully doing this one thing, or rigorously abstaining from that other. The Sabbath was
made to serve man, but man was not made to
serve or be a slave to the Sabbath. And just
because it was an institution which, when rightly used, is so. eminently fitted to minister to
man's present and eternal good, the Son of
Man, who came not to be ministered unto, but
to minister, as Head of our humanity, to render
to it the greatest of all services, and to take all
other servants of it under his care and keeping,




40             THE CHARGE
would show himself to be Lord also of the Sabbath.
It was in this character that Jesus acted on
the Sabbath which so closely followed the incident of the walk in the corn-fields. In some
unnamed synagogue he sat and taught. A man
whose right hand was withered stood before him.
Had he been brought there to serve the purposes of these watchful enemies, who wished,
not simply to have his own acts to bring up
against him, (for these, as the acts of a prophet,
might be regarded as privileged, ) but to get
from him a distinct categorical reply to the
question, whether it was lawful for any man who
had the power of healing to exert it on the Sabbath day? So soon at least as they saw his eye
fastened upon the withered hand, and before he
did anything, they interpose their question, " Is
it lawful to heal on the Sabbath days?" The
question is met by an appeal to their own practice: "What man shall there be among you
that shall have one sheep, and if it fall into a
pit on the Sabbath day, will he not lay hold on
it and lift it out? How much then is a man better than a sheep? Wherefore it is lawful to do
well on the Sabbath days." But they shall not
only have its lawfulness asserted, they shall see




OF SABBATH-BREAKING.       41
the good done before their eyes. Jesus bids
the man with the withered hand stand forth.
But ere he cures him he turns to the Scribes
and Pharisees and puts in his turn a question
cutting deep into their deceitful hearts: "Is it
lawful to do good on the Sabbath days,"-as I
am doing-" or to do evil?"-as ye do in suspecting and maligning me;-" to save life,"as I do-" or to kill,"-as ye are doing who are
already meditating my death? There is no answer to this question. They stand speechless
before him, but unconvinced and unrelenting.
" And Jesus looked around about on them
with anger." The meek, and. the gentle, and
the patient one! What was it that filled his
breast with such a glow of indignation, that
it broke out in this unwonted look of anger?
It was the sight of men, who, laying hold of
one of his Father's most merciful institutesthat which for man and beast, and the whole
laboring creation, provided a day of returning
rest, amid whose quiet the reflecting spirit of
man might rise to the contemplation of its
higher ends and its eternal destiny-instead of
looking at the primary command to keep holy
each seventh day, as it stood enshrined among
those precepts which enjoined a supreme love




42     THE CHARGE OF SABBATH-BREAKING.
to God., and a corresponding love to man, and
allowing this one positive and external institute
to receive its interpretation from those immutable moral laws among which it was interposed, had exalted it into a place of isolation
and false importance, attaching a specific virtue to the bare outward keeping of the letter,
magnifying to the uttermost the minutest acts
of bodily service; finding therein the materials
which the spirit of self-righteousness employed
for its own low and sordid purposes, an instrument which it would have used for defrauding
the poor and the needy and the diseased of
that help which.the hand of charity was ready
to render;-such was the source of that anger with which Jesus looked around about on
the Scribes and Pharisees.




me
THE CALLING TO THE APOSTOLATE OF ST. PETER,
ST. ANDREW, ST. JAMES, ST. JOHN, AND ST. MATTHEW.*
EXTRAORDINARY success naturally excites exaggerated hopes. A sudden blaze of
prosperity has blinded the strongest human eye.
Nor can you point to any great enterprise, signally successful at its outset, of which you will
not find it true that those engaged in it were,
for a short time at least, seduced into exorbitant
expectations. If ever any success might have
operated in this way, it was that which attended
the close of the first year of our Lord's ministry.
The whole population of Galilee, a community
of from two to three millions, stirred in its
depths the excitement spreading all around,
reaching eastward beyond the Jordan, westward
* Luke v. 1-11; Matt. iv. 18-22, ix. 9-17; Mark i 16-20, ii.
14-22; Luke v. 27-30,




44             THE CT&uTriG
to the coasts of Tyre and Sidon, southward to
the hill country of Judea. It is no longer, as
in the days that followed the baptism by the
banks of the Jordan, an obscure Nazarene
travelling with a few friends who had attached
themselves to his person, it is the great Worker
of miracles, the Healer of all diseases, the
Caster-out of devils, surrounded and pressed in
upon so closely by admiring and enthusiastic
crowds, that to get a few quiet hours he had to
steal them from sleep-to spend them in the
mountain solitudes. It is no longer in the
synagogue and on the Sabbath days alone that
audiences are to be found; everywhere and at
all times assemblages, often too large for his
addressing them, are ready to hang upon his
lips. But you search in vain through all the
wonderful excitement and popularity which
followed our Lord in his first circuit through
Galilee, for the slightest evidences that any
false or exaggerated expectations were cherished. The specious appearances that then
surrounded Him  never dazzled nor deceived
his eye. He knew from the beginning how
soon the sudden fervors of the first great comlmotion would subside-how soon the tide that
swelled so high would ebb away. He knew




To THE APOSTOLATE.         45
that had he left to themselves those among
whom he lived and labored, had he done nothto bind some of them to himself by ties closer
and stronger than any they naturally or spontaneously would have formed, he would at the
close have been left alone. And therefore it
was that at the very time when his popularity
was at the highest, he took the first step towards binding to himself twelve chosen men ill
links which, besides all the pains that he took
himself to forge and fasten them, needed the
welding forces of the day of Pentecost to make
them strong enough to bind them everlastingly
to him.
To these twelve men, an office, secondary
only to the one he himself discharged, was to
be assigned. They were always to be with
him, the spectators and reporters of all he said,
and did, and suffered. They were to share
and multiply his labors, to protect and relieve
him from the pressure to which he was exposed.
For a short season he was to send them from
his side, to teach and to work miracles as he
did himself, that a short fore-trial might be
nade of the work in which they were afterwards to be engaged. After his death they
were to be the witnesses of the Resurrection




46             THE Tn CALuGo
the expounders of that Gospel which needed
the great decease to be accomplished ere in its
full measure it could be proclaimed. By their
hands the foundations of the Church were to
be laid. Let us note, then, the first steps in
their calling to this high office.
On his return from the Temptation, by the
banks of the Jordan, and on their way thence
to Galilee, five men —Andrew, John, Peter,
Philip, and Nathanael-had temporarily attached themselves to Jesus.  Of these, only
one-Philip-had been called by our Lord
himself to follow him. The others were attracted by what they had heard about him, or saw
in him. At first, however, it was but a loose
and uncertain bond that united them to Jesus.
All the five were present, we may believe, at
the marriage feast at Cana, and may have gone
up with him to Jerusalem, to the first Passover
which he attended after his baptism. But they
did not remain in constant attendance upon his
person. After his first circuit of Galilee, when
his fame was at its height, three of them had
returned to their ordinary occupation as fishermen. With them a fourth became associated.
As Andrew had brought his brother Peter to
Jesus, we may imagine that the same service




To THE APOSTOIATE.        47
had been rendered by John to his brother
James; so that all the four were already well
known to Christ, had enjoyed much familiar
intercourse with him, and had appeared often
openly as his followers. Perhaps it was the
common bond of discipleship to him which in
the course of the year had drawn them into
closer union with one another. Peter and Andrew had previously resided at Bethsaida, a town
at the northeastern extremity of the lake, but
they had now removed to Capernaum, had entered into partnership with the two sons of
Zebedee, and had been plying their craft together on the lake, when all the four were
pointedly and specially summoned, in a way
they never before had been, to follow the Lord.
The difficulties that many have felt in harmonizing the narratives in the fourth chapter of
St. Matthew and first chapter of St. Mark, with
that in the fifth chapter of St. Luke, have led
them to believe that two such summonses were
given; that on the first occasion-the one referred to by the two former-the four had answered the appeal by an immediate throwing
up of their occupation by the lake side, but
that they had again, and not long afterwards,
resumed it, requiring a still more impressive




48             THE CALLING
instrumentality finally to sever the bonds. We
are inclined rather to believe that all which the
three Evangelists relate occurred in the course
of the same morning, and that it happened
somewhat in this manner:
The day had dawned. From his solitary
place of rest and prayer, somewhere among the
neighboring hills, Jesus had come down to the
quiet beach as the first light of the morning
struck across the placid bosom of the lake.
The unproductive toil of the night was nearly
over for the fishermen. Out a little distance
upon the waters, Peter and Andrew had cast
in their net for the last time as Jesus approached the shore. But his progress was interrupted by the crowds hurrying out of Capernaum, so soon as it was known that he was
there. Through these crowds-stopping occasionally to address a few words to them-Jesus
made his way to one or other of those small
creeks or inlets, still to be seen there, where a
boat could ride a few feet from the shore, and
the people, seated on either side and before the
speaker, could listen quietly to one addressing
them from the boat. Here, in this creek, two
boats were drawn up, the property of the four
— the two pairs of brothers already spoken of.




To THE APOSTOLATE.        49
The fishermen had gone out of them, and were
mending their nets; not so far away, however,
but that one of them, Peter, noticing the Lord's
approach, had returned. Entering into his
boat, Jesus asked Peter to thrust out a little
from the land; and when this was done, he sat
down and taught the people out of the boat.
The teaching over, Jesus turned to Peter, and
said to him, "Launch out into the deep, and
let down your nets for a draught " —a singular
command to come from one who knew so little
-might be supposed to care so little-about
the fisherman's craft. Still it came so decidedly
from one whom Peter had already learned to
address as Master, that, with a few words of
explanation, indicative of the smallness of his
hope, he prepares to comply with it. " Master," he says, "we have toiled all the night,
and have taken nothing; nevertheless at thy
word I will let down the net." He calls his
brother, and launches out-lets down the net.
At once such a multitude of fishes is enclosed,
that the boat begins to fill-the net to break.
Excited by what they had seen, James and
John had by this time launched their boat, and
Peter beckons them to come and help. They
come, but all the help they can give is scarce




U0             TEmiE CAIJG
sufficient. Both boats are filled, and almost
sinking as they get ashore.
Peter had already seen Jesus do wonderful
things-turn water into wine, eject the devil
from the demoniac, raise his own wife's mother
from the fever-bed; but somehow this wonder
came home to him as none of them had done
-wrought in his own vessel, with his own net,
in the way of his own calling, after his own fruitless toil. Never had the impression of a Divine
Power at work in his immediate presence taken
such a hold of him. Never had the sense of his
being in close contact with One in whom such
power resided come so upon his spirit. Astonishment, fear, humiliation-the impression, not
of his weakness only, but of his sinfulness-of
his unworthiness to stand in such a presencefill and overwhelm his open, ardent, impressible
spirit. He falls at Jesus'knees, as he sat there
in the boat, quietly watching all the stir and
bustle of the fishermen; and he gives vent to
the feeling that for a moment is uppermost, as
he exclaims, "Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, 0 Lord!" And ever still, when the
first clear and overpowering revelation is made
to any man of an Almighty Being compassing
his path,. besetting him before and behind, lay



TO THE APOSTOLATE.        51
ing his hand upon him,-ever when the first
true and real contact takes place of the human
spirit with the living God as the Being with
whom we have so closely and constantly to do,
will something like the same effect be realized.
So was it with him who said, "I have heard of
thee by the hearing of the ear, but now mine
eye seeth thee; wherefore I abhor myself, and
repent in dust and ashes." So was it with him
who said, " Woe is me! for I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of
unclean lips: for mine eyes have seen the King,
the Lord of hosts."
" Depart from me." Nothing could have surprised Peter more than the Lord's taking him
at his word-then and forever after turning his
back upon him. No man then living would
have felt such a forsaking more. Wishing to
express how unfit he felt himself for such a presence, Peter, with his wonted rashness, had said
more than he really meant. He asks Christ to
go, yet he clings to him. "I am a sinful man,
O Lord." Jesus knows that better than Peter
does. Peter will know it better when the Lord
looks at him in the judgment-hall, and he goes
out to weep over his denials. But Jesus knows,
also, that it is because he is so sinful a man he




52              THE CALLING
must not be forsaken. And though he is so
sinful a man, yet still he may be chosen to stand
in closest relationship to his master.  "Fear
not," said Jesus to him; " from henceforth thou
shalt catch men."
The words of direction, assurance, promise,
addressed in the first instance to Peter alone,
were soon repeated to his three associates.
The shore was reached, the boats hauled up,
the fish disposed of, James and John had carried the broken nets away to a little distance
to mend them, when first to the one pair of
brothers, and then to the other, Jesus said,
"' Follow me, and I will make you fishers of
men." And immediately they left boats and
nets, and two of them their father, and forsook
all, and followed him. We may think it was
not much that they had to leave, but it was
their all; and the promptness and entireness
of their relinquishment of it shows what power
over them the Saviour had already got-what
a readiness for service and for sacrifice was already in them. And these were the four men
who ever after stood most closely associated
with Jesus —the four who stand at the head of
every list of the twelve Apostles.
It was not indeed till some time after this




TO THE APOSTOLATE.         53
that, along with the other eight, they were set
apart to the peculiar office of the Apostolate.
This calling of them away from their former
avocations, this attaching of them permanently
to his person, was a marked step toward their
installment in that position. It was the same
with Matthew, the publican. The high road
from Damascus southward to Judea and Egypt
ran from the slopes of Mount Hermon down to
the northern extremity of the Sea of Galilee,
and for a short distance skirted along the northwestern shore of the lake, passing through
Capernaum. On the side of this road, close to
the lake, stood the booth in which Matthew sat
levying the toll on the passengers and their
goods. He was one of a hated and degraded
class. The payment of the taxes exacted by
the foreigners under whose rule they were,
irritated to the last degree the Jews, who regarded it as a visible sign and token of their
bondage. The strong feeling thus excited
spent itself on all who had anything to do with
the collection of these taxes. No Jew who
desired to stand well with his fellow-countrymen would be a tax-gatherer. The office was
commonly held by foreigners, or by those who
cared but little for a purely Jewish reputation.




54.            TiE CALLiN
Matthew was a Jew, yet he had become a
publican, and now he is sitting at the receipt
of custom as Jesus passed by. We know
nothing of his personal character or previous
habits. Considering that a year at least had
passed since Jesus had first appeared as a public teacher in Galilee-that so prominent a part
of his ministry had been. conducted in the very
neighborhood in which Matthew lived-it may
be regarded as a violent supposition that there
had been no previous acquaintance and intercourse between hiln and our Lord. It would
be more in keeping with Christ's conduct in
other instances to imagine that, so far as. his
occupation had permitted, Matthew had already
appeared as a follower of the new teacher, had
shown himself to have been. favorably affected
towards him. However it was, Jesus saw in
him a man who, under right teaching and
training, would be well suited for the high office
he intended to confer upon him; and so,
despite of the invidious office he now held,
Jesus stopped as he passed by-said, "Follow
me:" and " he left all, rose up, and followed
him," throwing up thus a lucrative engagement,
and casting in his lot with the small but growing. band which Jesus was forming.




To THE APOSTOLATE.        55
So soon as it was known that a publican had
-not only been seen in the following of Jesus —
which might have occurred and occasioned no
remark-but that Jesus had actually selected a
publican and invited him to become one of his
immediate attendants, a great commotion
among the Scribes and Pharisees arose. It
was a public scandal, an offence against all
propriety, that one pretending to be a religious
guide of the people-one preaching the Kingdom of God-should call a publican to his side,
and take him into his confidence. Bad enough
that he should himself be seen breaking the
Sabbath and encouraging his disciples to do
so likewise, but to' pass by all the respectable
inhabitants of Capernaum-so many of whom
were conspicuous for the strictness of their
observance of all the Jewish ordinances, —and
to confer such a mark of favor upon a man
with whom none of them would associatewhat was to be thought of such an act? But
the worst had not yet come. Either instantly
upon his throwing up his office, or a few days
thereafter, this Matthew makes a feast-a farewell one, it would seem-to which a number
of his old friends and associates were invited,
and there Jesus and his disciples were to be




56             TmE CALING 
seen sitting among the other guests. The
Pharisees could not stand this. They did not
venture, indeed, to go and openly reproach
Christ personally with it. They were smarting
too keenly under the recent rebuke they had
got from him to have courage to do so, but
they go to his disciples, and they say to them,
"Why eateth your master with publicans and
sinners?" Jesus does not leave it to the disciples to reply. As in so many other instances,
he takes the matter into his own hands, and,
half in irony, half in earnest, he says to them,;They that be whole need not a physician, but
they that be sick." They thought themselves
the hale and healthy; they spake of these publicans and sinners as corrupt and diseased;why, then, blame him if he, as the great Physician, went where his services were most required? It was sinners, not the righteous,
that he came to call to repentance. If they
needed no repentance, why blame him if he
went to call those whose ears were open to his
entreaties? But were they, indeed, so much
better than those whom they despised? The
difference between them was far more an outward, a ceremonial, than an inward, a moral, a
spiritual one. Many of these poor publicans




To TIE APOSTOLATE.         57
and sinners-excommunicated though  they
might be —very careless about religious riteswere men of simpler, truer, more honest natures,
kindlier in their dispositions, and in a sense, too,
more devout, than many of these pretentious
pietists. " Go," said Jesus to those who imagined themselves to be righteous and despised
others-" Go, and learn what that meaneth: I
will have mercy and not sacrifice " —mercy
rather than sacrifice if the two be put in comparison; mercy alone, and no sacrifice, if the
two are put in opposition-mercy among publicans and sinners rather than sacrifice or any
amount of ceremonial observances  among
Scribes and Pharisees.
But now another class interferes, to make
common cause with the Pharisees. Some of
the disciples of John the Baptist had early seen
the superiority of Jesus, and at their master's
own instance had enrolled themselves among
his followers. But others stood aloof, having
more in them of the old Judaic spirit-attracted
as much by the ascetic habits of the Baptist as
by anything about him-recognizing in the
fasts that he kept, the prayers that he himseli
offered and taught his disciples to offer, a return to a still purer and stricter piety than even




6S8            THE CALLING
that which the Pharisees practised. It was a
strange and repulsive thing to such, at the very
hour when their master was cast into prison
and they were mourning and fasting more than
usual on this account, to see Jesus and his disciples going about eating and drinking-nay,
accepting invitations to festive entertainments
in publicans' houses. St. Matthew tells us that
these disciples of John went at once to Jesus
with their complaint. St. Mark completes the
picture by informing us that the Pharisees
joined with them in the complaint. Nothing
more likely than that when the one saw how
differently the discipleship of Jesus was developing itself from what they had expected, they
should rather fall back upon the austerity of
Pharisaism, with its frequent fastings and many
prescribed exercises of devotion-nothing more
natural than that the Pharisees should seize
upon the occasion and ally themselves with the
followers of the Baptist, to aim thereby a fresh
blow at Christ's authority and influence over
the people. Christ's answer meets both sets
of complainers. " And Jesus said unto them,
Can the children of the bridechamber mourn,
as long as the bridegroom is with them? but
the days will come, when the bridegroom shall




To THE AkPOSTOIATE.        ba
be taken from them, and then shall they fast."*
In the last testimony that the Baptist had
borne to Jesus had he not said, " He that hath
the bride is the bridegroom; but the friend of
the bridegroom, which standeth and heareth
him, rejoiceth greatly because of the bridegroom's voice." The position that John had
thus claimed for himself, those disciples against
whom the complaint was lodged were now occupying. They were the friends of the bridegroom-standing and hearing and rejoicingwas it a time for them to mourn and to fast?
The days were to come when the bridegroom
should be taken away from them, then should
they fast-the fasting flowing spontaneously,
unbidden, from the grief. There is no general
command here prescribing fasting, but simply
a prophecy, referring to a peculiar and brief
period in the history of the Lord's disciples; a
prophecy, however, rich in the intimation it
conveys that all external acts and exercises,
such as that of fasting, should spring naturally
out of some pure and deep emotion of the
heart, seeking for itself an appropriate expression.
* MIatt. ix. 15.




60             THE CAT LIG
And now two short parables are added by
our Lord: the first we may regard as peculiarly
applicable to the disciples of John, the other to
the Pharisees. "No man putteth a piece of
new cloth unto an old garment, for that which
is put in to fill it up taketh from the garment,
and the rent is made worse."* No man would
take a piece of new, raw cloth, which would not
keep its form afterwards, which, when wet, would
shrink, and sew it into the rent of an old garment; for ere long, when the new pieee put in
contracted, it would tear itself away from the
old, and the rent would be made worse. And
let not the disciples of the Baptist think that
this new piece of their master's asceticism, with
its new fastings and new prayers, was to be
sewed, as they seemed to wish to do, into the
old, worn-out, rent garment of Pharisaism. To
try that, would be to try to unite what could
not lastingly be conjoined; instead of closing up
the rent, it would be to make it wider than ever.
"Neither do men put new wine into old bottles:
else the bottles break, and the wine runneth
out, and the bottles perish: but they put new
wine into new bottles, and both are preserved."+
* Matt. ix. 16.  t Matt. ix. 17.




To THE APOSTOLATE.         El
No man taketh old, dry, withered skin bottles,
such as then were used, and filleth them with
new wine; for the new wine would ferment, expand, and the bottles be burst, and the wine
spilled and lost. And let not the Pharisees
think that the new wine of the kingdom, the
fresh spirit of love to God and man, which Je —
sus came to breathe into regenerated humanity,
could be safely poured into their old bottlesinto those forms and ceremonies of worship, dry
as dust, and brittle as the thinnest and most
withered piece of leather. No, there must be
new bottles for the new wine, bottles that will
yield to the pressure from within, and expand
as the fermenting liquid which they contain expanded. And such new bottles as were thus
required Jesus was finding-not in priestly men,
chained up from childhood within priestly habits
-not in those fixed and rigid Levitical institutions which the long years that hd'I been draining them of their vitality had been stiffening into an immovable inflexibility: but in these fishermen, these publicans-natural, homely, unlearned men, open to imbibe his spirit in all its
richness and expansiveness; and in those simple
forms and institutions of Christianity, which,
cramped by no formal and immutable injunc



Tm CTE  AING
tions, were to be left free to take such new out.
ward shapes as the indwelling spirit might
mould.
These two homely parables of our Lord, so
specially adapted as they were to the circumstances in which they were uttered,-the individuals to whom they were addressed-do they
not carry with them a lesson to all times and
ages of Christianity?  Do they not remind us
of the absolute incompatibility of the legal and
the evangelical obedience —the spirit of the
Law and the spirit of the Gospel?  There is a
religion, of which the Pharisaism of Christ's
days was an exaggerated specimen-the very
heart and soul of which consists in penances,
and prayers, and fastings,-in worship offered,
in duties done, in sacrifices made, in mortifications inflicted and endured,-all to soothe an
agitated conscience, to win a peace with God,
to eke out a hope of heaven. To this the faith
that is in Christ our Saviour stands directly and
diametrically opposed-the one offering as a
free gift what the other toils after as a reward;
the one inviting us to begin where the other
would have us end; the one putting forgiveness and acceptance with God in our hand and
calling upon us, in the free spirit of his re



To THE APOST6LATE.         63'
deemed, forgiven, adopted children, to live,
and serve, and in all things to submit to our
Father which is in heaven —the other holding
out the forgiveness and the acceptance away in
the distance, and calling upon us, in the spirit
of bondage, to labor all through life for their
attainment; the one the old tattered garment,
the other the piece of the new-made cloth.
And the wine of the kingdom, ever as it
pours itself afresh from its fountain-head on
high into the spirit of man, is it not a new wine
that needs new bottles to contain it? If it be
indeed the spirit of Christ which is working in
hearts that have been opened to receive it,
may we not safely leave it to its own operation
there, and allow it to shape the vessel that
holds it as it likes? Both, indeed, are needed,
-the outward form, the inner spirit; nor will
any wise or thoughtful man rashly touch, or
mould into different shape the first, thinking
thereby to improve the second; but neither
will he hinder or hamper the second if by its
own proper motion it is going on gently to remould the first.




IV.
THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT.*
THE traveller from Jerusalem  gets his first
sight of the Sea of Galilee from the top of
Mount Tabor. It is but a small corner of the
lake that he sees, lying miles away, deep sunk
among the hills. Descending from the height
whence this first glimpse of the lake is got, the
road to Tiberias leads over an elevated undulating plateau, the one marked feature of which
is a curious double-peaked hill, rising about
fifty or sixty feet above the general level of the
surrounding table-land, and sloping down on
its eastern side into the plain of Gennesaret.
From the two prominences it presents this hill
is called the Horns of Hattin-Hattin being a
village at its base. It overlooks the lake and
plain. You see Capernaum from its summit,
* Matt. v. vi. vii.; Luke vi. 20-49.




THEm SERON ON THE MOUNT.     65
lying across the valley about seven miles off.
As seen again from Capernaum and the plain,
it appears as the highest and loneliest elevation
that rises upon that side of the lake. It would
naturally be spoken of by the inhabitants of
Capernaum and its neighborhood, even as
St. Matthew speaks of it, as the mountain.
It would naturally be the place to which any
one seeking for solitude would retire. When
somewhere in its neighborhood there came
around our Lord " a great multitude of people
out of all Judea and Jerusalem, and from the
sea-coast of Tyre and Sidon, and from Galilee
and Decapolis, and from Idumea and from beyond Jordan,"* and when, seeking relief from
the pressure, it is said that he went up into a
mountain, no one so likely to be the one referred to by the Evangelist as the Horns of
Hattin,-to which, as the supposed place of
their utterance, the name of the Mount of the
Beatitudes has for ages been given.
The night upon this mountain was spent by
Christ in prayer —alone perhaps upon the
higher summit, the disciples slumbering below.
At dawn he called them to him, and out of
* Luke vi. 17; Mark iii. 8; Matt. iv. 25.




66             T'E i SERXON
them he chose the twelve, and ordained them
"that they might be with him, and that he
might send them forth to preach." But on
what principle was the selection made? in what
manner was the ordination effected? It may
be presumed that some regard was had to the
personal qualifications of those whom the Lord
chose for this high office. We know indeed
too little of any but two or three of the twelve
to trace the special fitness of the human instrument for the work given it to do. Of all but
one, however, we may believe that such fitness
did exist. But how came that one to be numbered with the rest? It is possible that Judas
may have done much to obtrude himself, or
that others may have done much to obtrude
him upon the notice of the Saviour. We read
of one who, with great professions of attachment, volunteered to become a disciple, saying
to Jesus, "Master, I will follow thee whithersoever thou goest;" whom Jesus neither rejected nor welcomed, meeting his declaration
of adherence with the ominous words, "The
foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have
nests, but the Son of Man hath not where to
lay his head."  If, as some have thought, the
man who came forward in this way and pressed




Oi THE: MOUNT.           67
himself into the discipleship were Judas —if he
was a man of acknowledged ability and considerable influence, whom no one at the time had
the slightest reason to suspect, who was welcomed by all the other disciples, and commended by them to their Master as a most desirable
associate-if the rejection of such a man in
such circumstances would have seemed to be
an act of caprice without known or apparent
reason, this might serve perhaps in some slight
degree to explain to us how Judas came at first
to be numbered with the twelve. Many will
feel as if there were something like profanity in
any conjecture of this kind, and all will be satisfied simply to accept the fact that Jesus chose
those twelve men, and yet that one of them
was a devil.
Was it by simple designation to the office
without any form or ceremony? or was it by
laying of Christ's hand solemnly on the head of
each, then gathering the circle round him and
offering up a consecration prayer, that the
apostles were set apart? We cannot tell. It
is surely singular, however, that the manner of
the ordination of the apostles by our Lord himself, in like manner as the ordination of the
first presbyters or bishops of the Church by the




68             THE SERMON
apostles, should have been left unnoticed and
undescribed.
The ordination -over, Jesus descended to a
level spot, either between the two summits or
lying at their base.* The day had now advanced, and the great multitude that had followed him, apprised of his place of retreat,
poured in upon him, bringing their diseased
along with them. He stood for a time healing
all who were brought to him. Retreating then
again to the mountain-side, he sat down. His
disciples seated themselves immediately around
him, and the great multitude stood or sat upon
the level ground below.
Such were the circumstances under which
the Sermon on the Mount was delivered. It
may have been the first discourse of the kind
which St. Matthew had heard; all the more
natural, therefore, that he should have been
directed to preserve so full a record of it. We
have no authority for saying that it was actually the first formal and lengthened address
delivered by our Lord. Many other longer or
shorter discourses, to smaller or larger audiences, may Jesus have spoken during this
period of his ministry. But this was the one
* Luke vi. 17.




ON THE MOUNT.            69
selected by Divine Wisdom to be presented as
a specimem or sample of our Lord's teaching,
as addressed to mixed Galilean audiences in
the earlier stages of his ministry. There was a
change in his mode of teaching afterwards, even
in Galilee, as there was a marked difference
between all his discourses there, and those addressed to very different audiences in Jerusalem. Here upon the mount he had a vast
concourse of people of all castes and from all
quarters before him. Nearest to him were his
own disciples. To them his words were in the
first instance spoken, but they were meant to
reach the consciences and hearts of the motley
crowd that lay beyond.
Now, if there was one sentiment spread more
widely than another throughout this crowd, it
was the vague yet ardent expectation, beating
then in almost every Jewish breast, of some
great national deliverance-of the near approach of a new kingdom —the kingdom of God.
Of this kingdom they had no higher conception
than that it would be a free and independent
outward and visible Jewish monarchy. And
when it came, then should come the days of liberty and peace, of honor and triumph, and all
kinds of blessedness for poor oppressed Judea




70              TmE -SERMON
With what a delicate hand-not openly and
rudely rebuking, yet laying the axe withal at
its very roots-was this deep national prejudice
now treated by our Lord. What could have
run more directly counter to the earthly ambitious hopes, swelling up within the hearts of
those around him? what could have served more
effectually to check them, than the very first
words which Jesus uttered? " Blessed are the
poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of
heaven. Blessed are they that mourn: for they
shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek: for
they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are they
which do hunger and thirst after righteousness:
for they shall be filled. Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy. Blessed are
the pure in heart: for they shall see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be
called the children of God. Blessed are they
which are persecuted for righteousness' sake:
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed
are ye, when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against
you falsely, for my sake. Rejoice, and be exceeding glad: for great is your reward in heaven,
for so persecuted they the prophets that were
before you." How different the kind of bless



ON THE MOUNT.             71
edness thus described from that which his hearers had been hungering and thirsting after!
How different the kind of kingdom thus described from that which they had been expecting he should set up! And, apart from their
special use and immediate service as addressed
of old to the Galilean audience, these beatitudes remain to teach us wherein the only true,
pure, lasting blessedness for man consists; not
in anything outward, not in the gratification of
any of our natural passions or desires, our covetousness, or. our pride, or our ambition, or our
love of pleasure; not in what we have, but in
what we are in God's sight and in relation to
his empire over our souls. The poor in spirit,
those most deeply conscious of their spiritual
poverty, their want of that which can alone find
favor with God; the mourners whose grief is
the fruit of guilt and unworthiness realized and
deeply felt; the meek, who bow patiently and
submissively to every stroke, whoever be the
smiter; the hungerers and thirsters after righteousness, the pure in heart, the peace-makers,
the persecuted for righteousness' sake-do we
regard these as the happiest of our race? is
theirs the kind of happiness upon which our
heart is chiefly set, and which we are laboring




72              THE SERMON
with our utmost efforts to realize? If not, however ready we may be to extol the pure and
high morality of the Sermon on the Mount, we
have failed to take in the first and one of greatest truths which it conveys, as to the source,
and seat, and character, and conditions of the
only abiding and indestructible blessedness of
sinful man.
But while the multitude were cherishing false
ideas and expectations about his kingdom, many
were cherishing false ideas and fears about
Christ himself that equally required to be removed. They had noticed in his teaching the
absence of any reference to many of those religious services that they so punctiliously performed, some disregard of them in his own practice and in that of his disciples. This man, they
began to say, is an enemy to Moses. He is aiming at nothing short of a subversion of the old,
the heaven-given law.  Jesus must proclaim
how untrue the accusation was.  "Think not,"
he said, " that I am come to destroy the law, or
the prophets: I am not come to destroy, but to
fulfill. For verily I say unto you, Till heaven
and earth pass, one jot or one tittle shall in no
wise pass from the law, till all be fulfilled."
But in what did the true fulfillment of the




ON THE MOUNT.            73
Mosaic law consist? It was a vast and complicated code, embracing a body of laws for a
peculiar people, existing at a particular period,
and organized for a special purpose; subject,
therefore, to all the limitations and exhibiting
all the adaptations to existing circumstances
which, in proportion to the wisdom with which
it is framed, all such legislation must display.
It had in it commands of a purely ethical and
religious character, conveyed in more general
and abstract forms; and it had in it a large
apparatus of positive enactments and ordinances
chiefly meant to symbolize the truths and facts
of the Christian dispensation. It was not
throughout an expression of God's absolute
will, perfect, immutable, meant to be of permanent and juniversal obligation. Part of it, perfectly adapte'd to its design, was inherently
imperfect; part of it as necessarily transitory.
When the time came that the Jewish nation
should either cease to exist or cease to have its
old functions to discharge, and when all its
types and ceremonies had their true meaning
expressed and their ends accomplished-then
out of this complicated law there would come
to be extracted that which was absolutely perfect and universally obligatory. Jesus knew




74             TmHE SERMON
that at his advent that time had come, and
assuming the very place and exercising the
very prerogative of the Divine Legislator of
the Jews, he begins in this Sermon on the
Mount to execute this task. He treats the old
Jewish practice of divorce as imperfect, being
adapted to a single nation at a particular stage
of its moral training, and lays down the original
and perfect law of the marriage relationship.
In like manner he deals with the lex talionisthe rule of an eye for an eye and a tooth for
a tooth, and with the law and custom as to
oaths. But it is especially in his treatment of
those commandments about whose permanent
obligation there was and could be no doubt,
that the novelty and value of his teaching displayed itself. These were negative and prohibitory in their form. Thou shalt not kill,
Thou shalt not commit adultery, etc. etc. They
had been looked at in the letter rather than in
the spirit. They had been regarded simply as
prohibitions of certain outward acts or crimes.
Abstinence from the forbidden deeds had been
taken as a keeping of the Divine commands.
Obedience had thus come to be looked upon as
a thing of outward constraint or mechanical
conformity, its merit lying in the force of the




ON THE MOUNT.            75
constraint, the exactness of the conformity. It
was thus that the righteousness of the Scribes
and Pharisees consisted mainly in a stiff and
formal adherence to the letter of the precept,
to the neglect often, and sometimes to the contradiction of its spirit. This fatal error Christ
exposes, taking up commandment after commandment, unfolding the spirituality and extent of the requirement, showing how it reached
not simply or mainly to the regulation of the
outward conduct, but primarily and above all
things to the state of the heart; that murder
lay in embryo in an angry feeling, that adultery
lurked in a licentious look, that it was not
alone when the name of God was vainly used
that irreverence might be exhibited and profane swearing practised, that the old Jewish
rule of retaliation was no rule for the regulation of the affections or the guidance of the
conduct in a pure and perfect state, that from
the heart every sentiment of malice or revenge
must be banished, and in the conduct the evil
done to us by another remain unresented, unavenged, the enemy to be loved, the persecutor
to be prayed for; and all this done that we
might be merciful as our Father that is in
heaven is merciful, perfect as he is perfect,




76             TaHE SERMON
children of him who maketh his sun to rise on
the evil and on the good, and sendeth his rain
on the just and on the unjust.
This end and aim of being like, to, of being
imitators of God, was one too pure, too high,
too holy to suffer corruption and the worm to
enter into it by admixture with the selfish and
ignoble motive of courting human approval,
winning human applause. Too much of the
almsgiving and the fasting and the praying that
he saw practised around him was done to be
seen of men, prompted by no other motive,
was nothing but hypocrisy, utterly offensive to
his Father in heaven. Concealed and unostentatious let the givings and the fastings be, short
and simple and secret the prayers of those who
would be his disciples and true children of his
Father, whom seeing in secret he would in due
time openly reward.
Let all be done as unto him with an undivided allegiance, for no man can serve two masters; and with an unbounded trust, for, having
such a Father, why should there be any overcarefulness for earthly things-those things that
He knows we have need of, or any undue concern about a future which is not ours but his?
Why so anxious about food and raiment? It




ON THE MOUNT.             77
is God who sustains the life of the body; you
must trust him  for that-the greater thing;
then why distrust him for the less?  Behold
the fowls of the air; consider the lilies of the
field; look at the grass that grows beneath
your feet. Not theirs, as yours, the capacity
for trust and toil and foresight. A worthless
fleeting existence theirs as compared with
yours; yet see how they are not only cared
for but lavishly adorned.  "Take, therefore,
no thought for the morrow; for the morrow
shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. But
seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his
righteousness; and all these things shall be.
added unto you."
Conscious of your own far shortcomings from
that perfect confidence you should cherishthat constant service you should be rendering,
be not severe in criticising or condemning
others. Judge not that ye be not judged.
"Whybeholdest thou the mote that is in thy
brother's eye, and considerest not the beam
that is in thine own eye?  Thou hypocrite;
first cast out the beam out of thine own eye,
and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the
mote out of thy brother's eye."




78             THE SEnDON
It may be very difficult to be all, to do all
that I am now telling you you ought to be and
to do; but is there not an open and effectual
way for having every felt spiritual want relieved? "Ask and it shall be given you, seek
and ye shall find, knock and it shall be opened
unto you." "Ye, being evil, know how to
give good gifts unto your children, how much
more shall your Father which is in heaven
give good things to them that ask him?"
Drawing from the exhaustless fountain of
grace and strength that in him is opened- to
you, fear not to adopt this as the one comprehensive rule of your whole bearing and conduct toward others. "All things whatsoever
ye would that men should do to you, do ye
even so to them: for this is the law and the
prophets."
Before the days of Christ there was a great
Jewish teacher, Hillel. An inquirer once came
to him asking the strange question: "Can you
teach one the whole law during the time that
I am able to stand on one foot?"  "' Yes," said
Hillel, " it is contained in this one rule: Whatsoever ye would not wish that your neighbor
should do to you, do it not to him." This and
other sayings of preceding Rabbis have been




ON THE MOUNT.            79
quoted with a view of detracting somewhat
from the originality of the moral teaching of
Christ. Yet even here, while the resemblance
between the lessons taught is so marked, one
grand difference may be discerned-a difference that runs through so large a part of the
Saviour's precepts as compared with those of
all other moral legislators. He translates the
negative into the positive. With him it is not
-be not, do not; but, be and do. In a few
instances are any specific rules of conduct laid
down. To plant the right spirit and motive in
the heart, out of which all true morality proceeds, is the great object He aims at. Look
up to God, he says to us, as indeed your Father
-ever living, ever loving, patiently bearing
with you, largely providing for you, willing to
forgive you. Walk humbly, meekly, trustingly
before him. Commit your way to him, cast all
your care on him, seek all your supplies from
him, render all your returns to him. Look
upon all your fellow-men as children of the
same father, members of the same family.
Love each other, and live together as brethren,
bearing yourselves towards all around you patiently, forgivingly, generously, hopefully. The
gate thus opened is strait, the way is narrow,




80             THE SERMON
but it is the only one that leadeth unto life.
And finally, remember that it is practice, not
profession, that can alone conduct you along
the path to the throne in heaven. Hear then,
and do, that ye may be like the wise man who
built his house upon a rock, "and the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds
blew and beat upon that house, and it fell not,
for it was founded upon a rock."
Such is a rapid, imperfect sketch of the Sermon on the Mount, regarded mainly from a
historical point of view, in its bearings upon
the audience to which it was originally addressed. The people who first heard it, we are
told, were astonished at its doctrine. Well
they might. It was so different from what
they had been accustomed to. No labored
argument, no profound discussion, no doubtful
disputation, no nice distinctions, no scheme of
doctrines formally and elaborately propounded,
no exact routine of religious services prescribed.
It dealt with the simplest, plainest moral and
religious truths and duties; and did this in the
simplest, plainest manner;-directly, familiarly,
colloquially-a freshness about it like that of
the morning breeze which played over the
mountain-side. The thing, however, that seems




ON THE MOUNT.            81
to have struck the listeners most was the calm,
unhesitating, authoritative tone in which the
whole was uttered. "They were astonished
at his doctrine: for he taught them  as one
having authority, and not as the Scribes."
Here is One who comes forth from none of
the great schools,-who has sat at the feet of
none of the great masters, —who uses no book
language,-who appeals to no authority but his
own-a young untaught Nazarene; and yet he
takes it upon him to pronounce with the utmost confidence as to who the truly blessed
are, and reckons among them those who were
to be railed at and persecuted for his sake.
Here is One who does not shrink from taking
into his hands the law and the prophets, acting
not simply as their expositor —the clearer of
them from all false traditional interpretations.
He is bold enough to say that he came to fulfill
them; in one remarkable instance, at least —
that of the law which permitted divorcespeaking as the original lawgiver was alone
entitled to do, declaring that the time for this
permission had now ceased, and that henceforth such divorces as Moses had tolerated were
not to be allowed. Here is One who speaks
of God as one who fully knew, and had a right




82             THE SERMON
to declare, how his children were to act so as to
please him; whom he would forgive, whom he
would reward, upon whom he would bestow
his gifts. Here is One who, though seated on
that Galilean mountain, with nothing to distinguish him from the humble fishermen around
him, speaks of a day on which he should be
seated on the throne of universal judgment,
to whom many should say, " Lord, Lord, have
we not prophesied in thy name? and in thy
name have cast out devils? and in thy name
dclone many wonderful works?" —to whom he
was to reply, "I never knew you: depart
from me, ye that work iniquity."
In consequence of the simplicity, purity, and
elevation of the moral precepts which it contains, and still more, perhaps, because of none
of the peculiar doctrines as to the person, character, office, and work of Christ as the Mediator
being found in it, this Sermon on the Mount
has been greedily seized upon and highly extolled by many as the true epitome of Christianity-as Christ's own gospel, coming from his
own lips. But it is far less difficult for us to
discern the reasons why the truths of the incarnation and the propitiatory sacrifice were not
at this time and to that audience alluded to or




ON THE ]MOUNT.           83
dwelt upon by Jesus, than it is for any who
would reduce him to the level of a mere moral
legislator to account for the position which,
even when enunciating the simplest moral precepts, he assumed-for the tone of authority in
which he speaks. Dimly, indeed, through this
Sermron on the Mount does the Jesus of the
Cross appear, but the Jesus of the Throne is
here, and once that we have learned from other
after-teachings of himself and his Apostles to
know, and love, and trust in him as our great
High Priest, who has bought us with his blood,
it will be the habit and delight of every true
and faithful follower of his to take up and dwell
upon that wonderful discourse, in which, more
clearly and fully than in any other words of
human speech, the very spirit and essence of a
humble child-like faith in God, and the lofty
ideal of a perfect, a heavenly morality, is unfolded and enforced.




V.
THE RAISING OF THE WIDOW'S SON AND THE
RULER'S DAUGHTER.*
TrHE multitude that listened to the Sermon
on the Mount followed Jesus from the
hill-side into Capernaum, thronging round the
house into which he entered, and pressing their
sick so urgently on his notice that he "could
not so much as eat bread." A mode of life like
this,-out all night upon the mountain top,
teaching, walking, working all day long without
food or rest,-so affected the minds of his immediate relatives when they heard of it that
they "went out to lay hold of him, for they
said, He is beside himself." Failing in their
endeavors, they left him to pursue his eccentric
course.
It was in the course of the busy day which
followed the delivery of the Sermon on the
Mount that the centurion's servant was healed,
Luke vii. 11-17; viii. 41-56; Matt. ix. 18-26; Mark v. 22-43.




THE RASING OF THE WIDOW'S SON.   85
and the opportunity was thereby given to Jesus
to hold up to the eyes of the people an example of such faith as he had not found-no, not
ill Israel. On the following day he left Capernaum. " Many of his disciples and much people" went with him. They had a long day's
walk over the hills of Galilee, skirting the base
of Tabor, and descending into the valley ot
Esdraelon. The sun was sinking in the west,
away behind the ridge of Carmel, and was gilding with his evening beams the slopes of little
Hermon, as Jesus and the band which followed
him approached the village of Nain. This village is now a confused heap of the rudest Syrian
huts,.unenclosed, with no ruins of ancient buildings, nor any antiquities around, save the tombs
in the rock upon the hill-side, where for ages
they have buried the dead. And yet it stands
next to Nazareth and Bethlehem and Bethany
in the sacred interest attached to it. We are
so sure of its identity, it is so small, so isolated,
having nothing but the one wonderful incident
to mark its history, that the Saviour's living
presence was almost as vividly realized by us
when entering it as when we sat by the side of
Jacob's well. We stood at the end of the village which looks northward towards Galilee,




86    THE RAISING OF THE Wmow's SON
and tried to recall the scene. Jesus and his
train of followers have crossed the plain, and
are drawing near to the village. Another company moves slowly and sadly out of its gate
and meets them. It is a funeral procession;
a large one, for all the villagers have come
forth, but there is no mark or token that it is
the funeral of one who had been rich or in any
way distinguished. The bier is of the plainest,
and there follows it as chief mourner a solitary
woman, clad in humblest guise. Jesus has
none beside him, as he stops and looks, to tell
him who this woman is-who the dead for
whom she mourns. He does not need the information; he knows her history; he knows
her grief better than any inhabitant of Nain.
To his eye it is a becoming and beautiful thing
that grief like hers should have such homage
paid to it, should have drawn the whole village
out after her by the pure force of sympathy.
Her claim, indeed, upon that sympathy is strong.
This is not the first bier she has followed. She
had wept for another before she wept for him
whom they are now carrying to the grave. She
is a widow-weeping now behind the bier of
her only son. Bereft of every earthly stay she
walks, a picture of perfect desolation.




AND THE iLR'S DAUGHTEB.       87
" And when the Lord saw her he had compassion on her." As soon as his eye rests on
her his heart fills full of pity. Was this the
first funeral he had ever met in the wayside
along with his disciples? Was this the first
mourner he had ever noticed go weeping thus
behind the dead? It may not have been so;
yet never perhaps before had he seen a poor
lone widowed mother shed such bitter tears
over the death of an only son. The sight
moves him at least to do what he had never
done before. He goes up to the woman, and
says to her " Weep not."  Wrapped up in her
consuming grief, how surprised she must have
been at being accosted in such a way at such a
time. Does this stranger mean to mock her,
to deal rudely with her in her grief? In any
other she might have been ready to repel and
resent the unseasonable intrusion-the strange,
unreasonable speech; but there is something
in the loving, pitying eye that looks at her as
she glances at him timidly through her tearssomething of hope, of promise, of assurance in
the gentle yet authoritative tones of his voice
that quenches all disposition to repel or resent.
But why does Christ first say to her-Weep
not? Does he not know what he is about to




88    THE RAISING OF THE WIDOW'S SON
do? Does he not know that within a few minutes that will be done by him which, without
any biddiug on his part, will dry up all her
tears? He does; but he cannot go forward
to his great act without yielding to the impulse
of pity; dropping into the ear of the mourner
-not as a cold word of command, fitted only
to give needless pain, but as a spontaneous expression of his warm personal compassion-the
words, "Weep not."  Such a preface to the
miracle speaks to us as plainly of the tenderness of Christ's sympathy as the miracle itself
proclaims the infinitude of his power.
"And he came and touched the bier, and
they that bore him stood still." And all stand
as still as the bearers; the two groups, the one
from Capernaum and the other from Nain, lost
in wonder as to what is to happen next. All
eyes turn upon Jesus. His turn upon the bier.
The silence is broken by the simple majestic
words, "Young man, I say unto thee, Arise."
The young man rises, looks about with wonder,
begins to speak. Jesus takes him by the hand,
lifts him from the bier, delivers him to his
mother. The deed of mercy is done. and
nothing more is told, but that a great fear
came upon all. "And they glorified God, say



AND THE RULER'S DAUGHTER      89
ing, That a great prophet is risen up among
us; and, That God hath visited his people.
And this rumor of him went forth throughout
all Judea, and throughout all the region round
about."
It was a few days or weeks before or after
this incident (for the date is uncertain) that
one of the rulers of the synagogue at Capernaum, Jairus by name, came to Jesus as he sat
at meat in the house of Levi, and "cast himself at his feet, and worshipped him, and besought him greatly, saying, My little daughter
lieth at the point of death; come and lay thy
hands upon her, that she may be healed, and
she shall live." Jesus arose at once and went
with Jairus; so did his disciples, and so did
much people; the very promptness of Christ's
compliance with the ruler's request stimulating
their curiosity.
The distance could not have been great from
the house of Levi to that of Jairus, and might
speedily have been traversed, but the crowd
that thronged.around Jesus by the way somewhat impeded the movement. It gave, however, to one poor woman the opportunity she
had long been seeking. Twelve long years she
had been a sufferer, her illness one that made




90   THE RAIsING OF THE WIDOW's SON
her very touch pollution. All she had she had
spent upon physicians.  It seemed rather to
have aggravated her complaint.  Seeing or
hearing about Jesus, a belief in the healing virtue that lay in him had taken possession of her
mind. Her timidity, her sense of shame, kept
her from going openly to him, telling him of her
malady, and asking him to exert his power on
her behalf. But if she could in any way unseen get at him, if she could but touch his clothes,
she felt that she should be made whole. And
now he goes through this great crowd. It is
the very occasion she has been seeking for, and
she seizes it: gets behind him, presses through
the people, and touches the hem of his outer
garment. She is instantly healed, but as instantly arrested. The touch has scarce been given,
the healing scarce effected, when Jesus turns
round and says, "Who touched my clothes?
They all deny the deed.  Peter expostulates
with his Master. "The multitude," he says,
"throng thee and press thee. and sayest thou,
Who touched me?  Jesus knows as well as
Peter that many had been near enough for their
and his garments to have come into contact;
but he knows, too, as Peter knew not, that there
had been a touch with a distinct, deliberate pur



AND THE RULER'S DAUGHTER.     91
pose, altogether different from that of a mere
random contact, a touch that had drawn virtue
out of him. Who gave it? His eye looked round
to see, is already resting on the woman, who,
seeing that she is not hid, fearing and trembling,
yet glad and grateful, throws herself on hex
knees before him, and the better of all her womanly feelings, declares unto him " before all
the people for what cause she had touched him,
and how she was healed immediately."
Had Jesus been displeased at being touched?
Had he grudged in any way that the virtue had
in such a way been extracted? Was it to detect and rebuke a culprit that he had challenged
the multitude? No: it was because he knew
how very strong was this woman's faith,-a
faith sufficient to draw out at once in fullest
measure the healing efficacy, and yet a faith
that had in it a superstitious element, the fancy
that in some magical mysterious way contact
of any kind established between her and Christ
would cure her. If he allowed her to go away
undetected, the healing filched, as it were, unconsciously from the healer, this fancy might
be confirmed, the superstitious element in her
faith enhanced. Therefore it was that he
would not suffer the secrecy. He would meet




92    THE RAISING OF THE WIDOW'S SON
and answer the faith which under the heavy
pressure and in despair of all other help had
thrown itself somewhat blindly yet confidingly
upon his aid. But he will not allow her to depart without letting her know how wrong and
how needless it had been in her to attempt
concealment, without letting her and all around
her know what was the kind of touch that she
had given which had established the right connection between her and him, and opened the
way for the remedy reaching the disease.
" And he said unto her, Daughter, be of good
comfort; thy faith hath made thee whole, go
in peace."
There is not one of all our Saviour's many
miracles of healing fuller of comfort and encouragement. For if his mode of dealing with
our spiritual diseases be shadowed out in the
modes of the bodily cures that he effected,
whenever we grow sad or despondent as we
think how much of fear, or shame, or error, or
weakness, or superstition mingles with the
faith we cherish, then let us remember that if
only the depth and inveteracy of the spiritual
disease be felt, if with or without a long trial of
them we have been led to despair of all other
physicians of the soul, and to look alone to




AND THE RULER'S DAUGHTER.      93
Jesus Christ, he who accepted this woman's
faith with all its weakening and defiling ingredients, will not cast us off. A timid, trembling
touch of him, be it only the touch of humility
and trust, will still bring forth that healing
virtue which wraps itself up in no guarded
seclusion, but delights to pour itself freely out
into every open and empty receptacle that is
brought to it.
The stoppage by the way, however brief,
must have been somewhat trying to Jairus, but
he showed, no impatience. There was a short
delay, but with it a new proof of Christ's power
well fitted to fortify his faith. But just as the
healed woman is sent away, the messenger arrives, who says, "Thy daughter is dead,. why
troublest thou the Master any further? The
words were perhaps not meant for the ear of
Christ, yet it caught them up, and the moment
it did so, knowing and feeling to what a strain
the faith of Jairus was exposed, and' how much
he needed to be assured and comforted, "as
soon as Jesus heard the word that was spoken,
he saith to the ruler of the synagogue, Be not
afraid, only believe." Jairus hears the reassuring words, and, heedless of the suggestion made,
follows Jesus as before.




94    TiE RAISING OF THE WIDOW'S SON
At last the house of the dead is reached.
Jesus suffers none of his followers to enter with
him save Peter, James, and John, the three privileged apostles who were with him on the
mount of his transfiguration and in the garden
of his agony, the three chosen witnesses of the
highest exercise of his power, the fullest display
of his glory, the greatest depth of his sorrow.
The first apartment of the ruler's house is occupied with those who fill it with a perfect tumult
of bemoanirig sounds. It was the custom to hire
such mourners on these occasions,-the more
numerous, the more vehement, the higher the
station of the family. The outward demonstration of grief that they here make is excessive,
but there is no heart in all the sound and show,
no true utterance of any real sorrow. As at
discord at once with his own feeling and with his
formed purpose, Jesus rebukes the wailers, and
says to them, "Give place; why make ye this
ado? the damsel is not dead, but sleepeth." Not
dead? Can they, the hired officials, not tell the
difference between sleep and death? Who is he
that speaks to them so slightingly, so authoritatively taking it on him, stranger though he be, to
stop their lamentations?  They " laugh him to
scorn:" this real laughter still more incongrz — us




AND THE RULER's DAUGHTER.      95
with his presence and his purpose than the
feigned grief. With Jairus to second him, Jesus puts all the people out, takes "the father
and the mother of the damsel, and them that
were with him, and entereth in where the damsel was lying." He takes the dead child by the
hand, simply says, Talitha cumi-damsel arise!
and she rises, weak as from a bed of illness, yet
with all the seeds of the mortal malady which
had laid her low banished from her frame.
Having directed that some food should be given
her, Jesus straitly charged the parents that
they should tell no man; an injunction, let us
believe, that they did their best to keep, and
yet St. Matthew tells us " the fame thereof went
abroad into all that land."
It is difficult to understand why it was that
Jesus laid such a stringent injunction of secrecy
upon the parents in this instance. Had the
widow's son not been raised from the dead
about the same time, and in circumstances of
the utmost publicity, we might have imagined
that there was a desire on the part of Christ to
throw, for a time at least, a veil over this particular form of the manifestation of his power.
But though that other miracle had not been
wrought, had this one stood alone, how could




96    THE RAISING OF THE WIDOW'S SON
it be hidden? There were too many that had
seen the damsel die, or mourned over her
when dead, to allow of any concealment. As
we think of the difficulty, we might almost say
impossibility of such concealment, the thought
occurs (and other instances in which the same
command was given by Christ may in the
same way be explained) that it was not so
much with any desire or intention to secure
secrecy that the order was issued, as to prevent those who had the closest personal interest in the miracle being the first or the loudest
in noising it abroad.
There does not seem to have been any previous acquaintance between Christ and the
widow of Nain. It may be doubted whether
she had ever seen Jesus till she met him as she
was going out to bury her son. We do not
read of Jesus ever being in Nain but on that
one occasion. It lay beyond the line of those
circuits of Galilee which he was in the habit of
making. We are not surprised, therefore, at
noticing that his interference there was voluntary, without any solicitation or hope entertained beforehand on the part of the mourner.
It was different with Jairus at Capernaum.
He was a well-known man, living in the town




AND THE RULER'S DAUGHTER.      97
which Jesus had chosen as his headquarters in
Galilee. In all likelihood he was one of the
rulers of the Jews who formed the deputation
that a short time before had waited on Jesus
to ask his aid on behalf of the Roman centurion.
It was quite natural that, when his " one only
daughter " lay a-dying, he should apply on her
account to Christ. But there may have been
in his character and connection something of
which we are ignorant, which made it undesirable that he should be forward in proclaiming
what had happened in his house.
It was a case of recovery from the dead,
about which there might be some cavilling.
The child could have been but a short time
dead; long enough, indeed, to establish the certainty of the event, yet not so long as to hinder any one from saying that it was literally
and not figuratively true, "She is not dead,
but sleepeth." In this respect we notice a
difference, a progression in the three instances
of raising from the dead recorded by the Evangelists-that of Jairus's daughter, of the
widow's son, and of Lazarus. It is not distinctly said to be so; but we presume that
these were the only three cases in which the
dead were restored to life by Christ. The one




98    THE RAISING OF THE Wmow's SON
was soon after death, the other immediately
before burial, the third after the dead man had
lain four days in the grave-the variety of the
period after death at which the restoration was
in each case effected not, perhaps, without a
purpose. For these three great miracles stand,
in one respect, at the head of all our Lord's
works of wonder. They were the highest
instances of the forth-putting of his divine
almighty power. With respect to many of his
other works, questions might be raised as to
the nature or extent of the power required for
their performance, but none as to these. Life
in all its forms, from the highest to the lowest,
is that mysterious thing which, when once
destroyed, none but the Creator-the great
Life-giver —can restore. Were a dead man
actually revivified before our eyes, we could
not doubt that the power of the Omnipotent
had gone forth to do it. In no case did Jesus
Christ so conspicuously and undoubtedly show
himself to be clothed with that power as when
he raised the dead. The power, indeed by
which he wrought such miracles might not
have been naturally his own. It might have
been a delegated power, given him for the
time, not permanently belonging to him. He




AND THE RULER's DAUGHTER.     99
might have raised the dead as Elijah raised the
son of the widow at Zarephath, as Elisha did
the son of the Shunamite. Had it been so, we
should have had some evidence thereof — some
appeal on the part of the mere human agent to
the great Being whose power was for the moment
lent and exercised. It was with trouble and
with pain, after much and earnest prayer, that
Elijah and Elisha, the only raisers of the dead in
all the preceding ages, had succeeded. No one
who saw or heard them could have imagined that
they claimed any natural or inherent power of
their own over the dead to call them back to
life. They would themselves have counted it
as the greatest insult to Jehovah to do so.
How is it in this respect with Jesus Christ?
Stand beside him as he calls the dead to life.
Look at the manner of his acting, listen to the
words that he employs. Is it as a servant, the
delegate of another, that he speaks and acts?
Is it with any consciousness on his part, felt or
exhibited, that he was rising above the level at
which he ordinarily stood, that he was then
doing something which he had been specially
commissioned and supernaturally qualified to
accomplish? Surely there is nothing more
remarkable about these raisings from the dead




100   THE RAISING OF THE WIOW's SON
by Jesus Christ than the simple, easy, unostentatious way in which they were effected.
" Young man, I say unto thee, Arise "-" Maid,
arise "-" Lazarus, come forth."  He speaks
thus to the dead, and they hear and live. It is
in the style of him who said, Let there be light,
and there was light. It is the Lord of the living and of the dead whose voice penetrates the
unseen world, and summons the departed spirit
to resume its mortal tenement.
But if, as to the power he wields, Jesus never
presents himself to our eye in a diviner, never,does he show himself in a more human aspect
than in these raisings from the dead. Can we
overlook the fact that they were those of one
only son of a widowed mother, the only daughter, if not the only child, of two fond parents,
the only brother of two affectionate sisters —of
those whose loss in their respective homesteads
would be so.deeply felt, of those whose restoration quickened so acute a grief into such an
ecstatic joy? And in each case there was
something quite singular in the tenderness of
our Lord's conduct towards the mourners. He
knew beforehand how speedily the anxiety that
he witnessed would be relieved, all the sorrow
chased away; but the "weep not" to the




AND THE RULER's DAUGHTER.     101
mother before he touched the bier, the "fear
not, only believe," to the agitated father, the
tears that fell before the grave of Lazarus,
what a testimony do they bear to the exquisite
susceptibility of the Saviour's spirit-to the
quickness, the fullness, the liveliness of his
sympathy with human grief. It is even then,
when he is most divine, that he is most human
— when he lifts himself the highest above our
level that he links himself the closest to us as a
true brother of our humanity. Such power to
help, such readiness and capacity to sympathize, meet but in one Being.
Many passages of the New Testament might
be quoted which assign it as one of the reasons
of the Incarnation that there might be such a
Being, one compassed about with infirmities,
one touched with a fellow-feeling with our infirmities, one tempted in all things like as we
are, a merciful as well as a faithful, a compassionate as well as an all-powerful, all-prevalent
High Priest over the House of God. The great
Son of God, when he stooped to become a
man, did not become thereby more merciful,
more kind, more compassionate than he had
been; yet are we not warranted to believe that
a human element was introduced and infused




102   THE RAISING OF THE WIDOW'S SON
into them which otherwise the mercy, kindness,
compassion should not have possessed? If the
Manhood was a gainer by bringing it into close,
mysterious union with the Divinity, was there
no gain to the Divinity by the Incarnation?not, of course, a gain absolutely, not a gain as
to any original, essential faculty or attribute of
the Supreme, but a gain as to the bringing of
the Divine Being into closer and more sympathetic fellowship with man? We all know how
difficult it is, whatever be the natural capacity
and largeness of our pity, to sympathize fully
and tenderly with a kind of trial we have never
felt. Those who have never wept over any
dead they loved, can they enter into the grief
of the bereaved? And how could we, but by
the Incarnation, have had one who could enter
as Jesus can into all our sorrows?
Why was such a sympathy as his provided
for us, but that as sinners as well as sufferers
we might cast ourselves upon it for support?
Jesus is the great raiser of human souls as well
as of human bodies. He quickeneth whom he
will. The hour has come when all that are in
the grave of sin, of spiritual death, may hear
his voice. That voice is sounding all around
us as in the ears of the dead. Awake, it says




AND THE RULER'S DAUGHTER.      103
to each of us-awake, thou that sleepest, arise
from the dead, and Christ shall give thee life.
Let us awake, and with life new-given turn to
the Life-giver; rejoicing to know that as tenderly as he handed her new-raised son to the
widow of Nain, as tenderly as he ordered the
food to be given to the little daughter of Jairus,
so tenderly will he watch over the first stages
of our spiritual being, and that as fully as the
griefs of widowed mother and weeping parents
were shared in of old by Him in Galilee, so
fully will he share in all the griefs of our earthly
history, till he takes us to the land where his
own gracious hand shall wipe off the tears from
every eye, and we shall no more need another
to weep with us in our sorrows.




VI.
THE EMBASSY OF THE BAPTIST —THE GREAT
INVITATION.*
OUR Lord's public ministry in Galilee began at the time that John had been cast
into prison, and had now continued for more
than half a year. There was much in this
ministry which those disciples of the Baptist
who kept aloof from Jesus could not comprehend. There was the entire absence of that
ascetic rigor and stern denunciation of all iniquity, by which their Master's character and
teaching had been distinguished. There were
no fastings, no prescribed repeated prayers,
there was the call of a publican to be an apostle, there was the eating and drinking with
publicans and sinners. All this appeared to
them not only different from, but inconsistent
* Matt. xi.




THE EMBASSY OF THE BAPTIST.    105
with, the idea of that kingdom, of whose advent
their Master had announced himself as the
herald. Some of them carried their doubts and
difficulties to John himself in the prison.
Hearing from them of the works of Christ, the
Baptist sent two of their number to Jesus,
and bade them put to him the question, " Art
thou he that should come, or do we look for
another?" As coming from John himself, and
meant for his personal satisfaction, the question certainly would imply that some temporary misgiving had crept into the Baptist's
mind. It is somewhat difficult to believe, after
the revelations made to him, after what he had
heard and seen at the baptism, after his own
repeated public proclamations of it, that his
faith in the Messiahship of Jesus had been
shaken. His long and unexpected imprisonment, however, must have severely tried his
faith. To such a man, from infancy a child of
the desert, who had roamed with such free
footstep through the wilderness of Engedi, who,
when the time came for his manifestation to
Israel, had but exchanged the freedom of his
mountain solitudes for those liberties of speech
and action he took with his fellow-countrymen.
the months of his imprisonmemt must have




106     THE E]amBASSY OF THE BAPTIST.
moved slowly and drearily along, turning even
his strength into weakness.
The chilly damp of being hurried unexpectedly from Herod's presence and his former open
active life into the cheerless, idle solitude of the
prison, fell all the chillier upon his heart on his
coming to know that Jesus had been apprised
of his imprisonment, and that yet no message
of sympathy had been sent, that no movement
for his deliverance was made. His notions of
the coming kingdom may not have been different
from those entertained at the time by the apostles and other followers of Christ. Perhaps he
fancied that at the setting-up of this kingdom
all injustice, and oppression, and spiritual wickedness in high places was to be done away, the
axe to be laid at their root, the fan to be so used
as thoroughly to purge the threshing-floor.
Perhaps, in rebuking Herod as he did, he
thought that it was but a first blow dealt at that
which the mightier than he who was to come
after him was wholly to destroy. And when,
instead of his expectations being fulfilled, he
was left unvisited, uncheered, unhelped; and
he heard of the course which Jesus was pursuing, gathering crowds indeed around him, but
carefully abstaining from announcing himself




THE EMBASSY OF THE BAPTIST.           107
as the Messiah, or doing anything towards the
erection of a new kingdom,-in some season of
disquietude and despondency, perplexed and
a little  impatient, sharing their feelings, and
in the hope of at once relieving their doubts
and removing his own misgivings, he sent two
of his disciples to put to him a question which
might be the means of drawing from Jesus a
public declaration of his Messiahship, and of inducing him openly to inaugurate the new kingdom.*
The messengers arrived and delivered their
message at d very opportune conjuncture. " In
the same hour he cured many of their infirmities
and plagues, and of evil spirits; and unto many
that were blind he gave sight."t   Jesus kept
John's messengers for a season near him instead
of answering them, going on with his healing
work.  He then turned to them. and said, "Go
your way, and tell John what things ye have
* Many think that it was for the sake of his disciples, and for
their sakes alone, that the Baptist sent them on this errand, not
that he had any doubts himself, but he knew they had. It is altogether likely that he had some regard to their establishment in a
true faith in Christ. The question, however, put into their lips,
comes too directly from himself, and the answer is directed too
plainly and pointedly to him, to allow us to shut out the idea of
personal relief and satisfaction being contemplated.
t Luke vii. 21.




108     TmHE EMBASSY OF THE BAPTIST.
seen and heard; how that the blind see, the
lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear,
the dead are raised, to the poor the Gospel is
preached." It is not simply to the miracles as
displays of superhuman power that Jesus appeals; it is to their kind and character, as peculiarly and prophetically Messianic.
Jesus had hitherto refrained from assuming
the title of the Messiah, or announcing himself
as such. John by his messengers urges him to
do so. Christ contents himself with simply
pointing to such works done by him as the
Baptist could not fail to recognize as a fulfillment of those prophecies of Isaiah, in which
the days and doings of the Messiah were
described. Nor can we fail to notice that, side
by side with the greatest of the miracles, reserved as the closing crowning testimony to
the Messiahship, is the fact that to the poor the
Gospel was preached; to the poor as well as
the rich, to no favored people, class, or section
of mankind, to all in that universal character
which all sustain as sinful, responsible, immortal. The words that Jesus added, "And
blessed is he, whosoever shall not be offended
in me," may have carried with them a special
allusion to the Baptist, while proclaiming the




THE EMBASSY OF THE BAPTIST.    109
blessedness of the man who was not offended
at the patience and gentleness of Jesus, his
readiness to wait and to suffer, to invite
and encourage, rather than to denounce and to
punish.
Having given them what seemed a sufficient
answer, Jesus sent John's messengers away.
Hie had something more, however, to say to
the people that was not for the Baptist's ear;
which must not be said till the messengers
were gone. What they had just seen and
heard was fitted to create an unfavorable imnpression, as if the faith, or fortitude, or patience
of John had utterly given way. Eager to
shield the character of his forerunner, Jesus
turned to the multitude and said to them concerning John, "What went ye out into the
wilderness to see?  A  reed shaken by the
wind?" a man bowing and bending as the reed
does before every passing breeze, a man fickle
of purpose, changeable in faith, believing at
Bethabara, disbelieving now  at Macharus?
Not such a man is John; rock-like, not reedlike-such as he was in the wilderness, such is
he in Herod's keep. " What went ye out to
see? A man clothed in soft rainlent?" caring
for the comforts and luxuries of life, or a man




110   TmHE EMBASSY OF THE BAPTIST.
who, all negligent as he had been of these be.
fore, feels now the hair-cloth to be too hard a
garment, and would fain exchange it for a
softer one? Not such a man is John. The
wearers and lovers of soft rainient you will find
in palaces, not in prisons. John cares as little
for such raiment now as when of his own free
will he chose the hair-cloth as his garment.
" But what went ye out to see? A prophet?
Yea, I say unto you, and more than a prophet."
The only one among all the prophets whose
course and offices were themselves the subjects
of prophecy; whose birth, like that of his
Great Master, an angel was commissioned to
announce; his predecessors seeing but fromn
afar across the breadth of intervening centuries,
he, the friend of the bridegroom, standing by
the bridegroom's side, his office such towards
Christ as to elevate him to.a height above any
ever reached before, yet this kind of greatness,
one springing from position and office, as local,
external, temporary, not once to be mentioned
alongside of that other kind of greatness which
is moral, spiritual, intrinsic, eternal. " For
this is he of whom it is written, Behold, I send
my messenger before thy face, which shall prepare thy way before thee. Verily I say unto




THE EMBASSY OF THE BPTIST.    111
you, Among them that are born of woman
there hath not risen a greater than John the
Baptist; notwithstanding he that is least in the
kingdom of heaven is greater than he."
More than one public testimony had been
borne by John to Jesus. Jesus answers these
by the witness he thus bears to John. But as
he thinks of himself in conjunction with the
Baptist, the strange and inconsistent treatment
that they respectively had met with from the
men of that generation presents itself to his
thoughts.* It is but seldom that anything like
criticism or complaint touching those around
him comes from the lips of Jesus. All the
more interesting is the glance that he here casts,
the judgment that he here pronounces, upon
the men of his own age and nation. Addressed
by two different voices, speaking in two different tones, they had turned a deaf ear to both.
The rigor of the law came to them in the message of the Baptist; they took offence at it.
The gentleness and love of the Gospel came to
them in the message of Jesus; they took equal
offence at it; justifying in either case their
conduct by fixing on something in the charac* Matt. xi. 16-19.




112     THE EMBASSY OF THE BPTIST.
ter or lives of each of the two messengers which
they turned into matter of complaint and accusation; guilty of great unfairness in doing
so, exhibiting the grossest inconsistency, charging opposite excesses upon John and upon
Jesus, saying of the one that he was too austere
and ascetic, that he had a devil-saying of the
other that he was too free and social, that he
was a gluttonous man and a wine-bibber, the
friend of publicans and sinners. Had it been
any other two of Heaven's chosen messengers
that they had to deal with, they might have
had less difficulty in fixing on some irregularity
or eccentricity of conduct out of which to fashion the shelter they sought to construct. But
that even with them they tried this expedient,
and imagined that they had succeeded, only
shows to what lengths that principle or tendency of our nature will go which seeks to mix
up the claims of religion with the character of
its advocates.
But now the Saviour's thoughts pass onward
from the contemplation of that folly and inconsistency which a familiar similitude borrowed
from the market-place may expose, to dwell
more profoundly upon the conduct of those
cities wherein most of his mighty works were




TmH EMBASSY OF THE BAPTIST.    113
done. In endeavoring to follow and fathom
from this point onwards the train of our Lord's
reflections, as recorded by the Evangelist, we
enter a region remote and very elevated.
"VWoe unto thee, Chorazin! woe unto thee,
Bethsaida! for if the mighty works which were
done in you, had been done in Tyre and Sidon,
they would have repented long ago in sackcloth
and ashes." "And thou, Capernaum, which
art exalted unto heaven, shall be brought down
to hell; for if the mighty works, which have
been done in thee, had been done in Sodom, it
would have remained until this day." Who is
he who announces so confidently what certain
communities would have done had they been
placed in other circumstances than those in
which they actually stood, and what altered
outward destiny would have followed the different course pursued! "It shall be more tolerable for Tyre and Sidon and for the land of
Sodom at the day of judgment than for you."
Who is he who anticipates the verdicts of eternity, pronouncing so confidently upon the
greater and the lesser guilt, fore-announcing
the lighter and the heavier doom?
But now, before the eye of the man Christ
Jesus, there spreads out a section of the great




114      THEEMBASSY OF THE BAPTIST.
mystery that hangs over this world's spiritual
history. Here are men-these inhabitants of
Chorazin, Bethsaida, and Capernaum-involved
in all the greater guilt, incurring all the heavier
doom, in consequence of the presence of Jesus
in the midst of them. There were men —those
inhabitants of Sodom, and Tyre, and Sidon,
who, had they lived in an after-age and enjoyed
the privileges bestowed upon the others, would
have repented and shared in all the blessings of
the heavenly kingdom. How many questions, as
we stand inl front of acts like these, press upon
our thoughts and rise to our trembling lipsquestions touching the principles and procedure
of the Divine government as affecting the future
and eternal destinies of our race-questions we
cannot answer, that it pains and perplexes us
to the uttermost even to entertain? It is in
this very region that there comes one of the
greatest trials of our faith. Was there no trial
of the like kind for the man Christ Jesus, as
he, too, stood gazing down into these depths?
In what way or to what extent the human
spirit of our Lord lay open to that burden and
pressure which a contemplation of the sins and
sufferings here and hereafter of so many of
our fellow-creatures brings down upon every




TmE EMBASSY OF THE BAPTIST.    115
thoughtful spirit that has any of the tenderness of humanity in it, it is not for us to determine. But that he who was tempted in all
things like as we are did at this time feel something of this burden and pressure, seems clear
from the attitude into which he immediately
throws himself. "At that time"-when thought
was hovering over this dark and awful region
-Jesus lifted up his eyes to heaven. Some
light has broken in upon that darkness from
above, drawing his eyes upwards to its source.
Some voice from above has spoken, that comes,
as his own came upon the troubled waters of
the lake, to still the inward agitation of his
thoughts.  "Jesus answered and said, 0 Father, Lord of heaven and earth!"  Infinitely
wise, infinitely merciful, infinitely loving Father,
thou art Lord of heaven and earth. The past
has all been ordered-the future will be all arranged by thee, and in thy character and purposes and providence over all as at once the Father and the Judge, the solution lies of all that
to created eyes may seem obscure. " I thank
thee... that thou hast hid these things from
the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them
unto babes." Why are the things that belong
to their eternal peace hidden from some and




116     THE EMBASSY OF THE BAPTIST.
revealed to others, hidden from so many, revealed to comparatively so few? One beam
of light falls upon the darkness here, and for
it the thanks are given.
It is not an arbitrary distinction, drawn by a
capricious hand that loves to show its power.
The fate of Sodom, Tyre, and Sidon was not
one tliat it was impossible for them  to have
evaded, that nothing could have turned aside.
They might have repented, and had they repented the ruin had not come. A thick cloud,
charged with bolts of vengeance, hung over Chorazin, Bethsaida and Capernaum because of their
unbelief. All over the land it was but one of
a family, or two of a city, who had welcomed
the Savioxlr and his message. The right interpretation of all this was not given by saying
that it was by a divine decree that had no regard
to the character and conduct of each, that the
eyes of some were blinded and the eyes of others
opened to the heavenly light. It was from the
wise and prudent, who thought themselves so
much wiser or better than others, whose pride
it was that blinded them, that the Gospel was
hidden. It was to the babes, to the humble,
the meek, the teachable, that it had been revealed. And it is not so much for the hiding it




TmH EMBASSY OF THE BAPTST.    117
from the one as for the revealing it to the other
that Jesus here gave thanks. On two after occasions of his life he had each of the two alternatives-the hiding and the revealing, separately and exclusively before him, and the difference
of the emotions felt and expressed by him
marked the difference of their effects upon his
mind and heart. Would we know what impression the revealing made, let us plant ourselves
by his side as the seventy return from their brief
but successful mission, and tell him of the results; when, without a shadow on his joy, he rejoices in spirit, and repeats in words the very
thanksgiving that he now offered. Would we
know what impression the hiding made, let us
plant ourselves beside him as he beheld the city
and wept over it, exclaiming, "0 Jerusalem,
Jerusalem! if thou hadst known, even thou, at
least in this thy day, the things which belong
unto thy peace! but now they are hid from thine
eyes."
But is it a full solution of the mystery that
those left in darkness have themselves, by their
willfulness, and pride, and carnality, created a
medium through which the heavenly light cannot pass? Why is it, if the spirits of all nien
are equally and absolutely beneath the control




11S      THE EMBASSY OF THE BAPTIST.
of the Creator, that any are suffered to remain
in such condition? There is no answer to such
a question, for, take up the great enigma of the
doings of God and the destinies of man at what
end you may, approachit from what quarter you
please, adopt whatever method of solution you
may prefer, make your way through the difficulties that beset you as far as you can, sooner or
later you reach the point where explanation
fails, and where there is nothing left for us but
to join with him who said, " Even so, Father,
for so it seemed good in thy sight."
The occasion now before us may have been
the first in which Jesus was seen and heard in
the act of prayer. The stopping of the cur;
rent of his address to them by the offering up
of a short and solemn thanksgiving to his
Father in heaven must have made a deep improssion on the multitude. It was singularly
fitted to excite wonder and awe, and to lead
them to inquire what the peculiar relationship
was in which Jesus stood to the Great Being
whom  he so addressed. Was it not as one
reading their thoughts and graciously condescending to unfold so much of the mystery of
his Sonship to the Father, that Jesus went on
to say, "All things are delivered unto me of




THE EMBAssY OF THE BAPTIST.    119
my Father: and no man knoweth the Son, but
the Father..... and he to whomsoever the Son
will reveal him." The Baptist, in his closing
testimony to Jesus, had declared, " the Father
loveth the Son, and hath given all things into
his hand."
Jesus now takes up and appropriates this
testimony. With special reference, we may
believe, to the things hidden and revealed of
which he had been speaking, he says: —All
things-all those things concerning man's relationship to God, and his condition here and
hereafter, have not simply been revealed, but
been delivered to me, —handed over for adjustment, for discovery to and bestowed upon men;
and chiefly that of the true knowledge of God.
Intimate and complete is the mutual knowledge
which the Father and the Son have of one another, a knowledge in kind and in degree incommunicable. It is the Father alone who
knoweth who the Son is; the Son alone who
knoweth who the Father is. "' As the Father
knoweth me," said Jesus, "even so know I the
Father."'*  Finite may measure finite, like
comprehend its like, man know what is in man,
but here it is Infinite embracing Infinite, the
* John x 15.




120    THE EMBASSY OF THE BMP=T.
Divine Son and the Divine Father compassing
and fathoming the Divine Nature, and the Di,
vine attributes belonging equally to both.
And yet there is a knowledge of the Father
to which man may reach, yet reach only by receiving it through the Son. Had we been told
simply that no man knoweth the Father but
the Son, nor the Son but the Father, we should
not have known to which of the two we were
to look for any such acquaintance with either
or both as our finite minds are capable of attaining; but when Jesus says " no man knoweth the Father but the Son, and he to whomsoever the Son will reveal him," he announces
himself to us as the sole revealer of the Father;
this is no small or secondary part of his gracious
office, to make God clearly known to us as our
Father which is in heaven. To some obscure
and partial knowledge of the Supreme Being
as Creator, Upholder, Sovereign, Governor, we
may attain without help of this revelation of
him by Christ; but if we would know him in
his living personality, know him as a God not
afar off but near at hand, know him in all the
richness and fullness of his mercy and love,
know him as a pitying, forgiving, protecting,
providing, comforting, reconciled Father, we




THE EMBASSY OF THE BPTIST.    121
must get at that knowledge through Christ, we
must see him as the Son reveals him. No man
knoweth thus the Father, but he to whomsoever the Son will reveal him.
But who is he to whom this revelation of the
Father is offered? Let the broad unrestricted
invitation with which the statement of the
Saviour is immediately succeeded supply the
answer:-" Come unto me, all ye that labor
and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."
This invitation loses half its meaning, taken out
of the connection in which it was spoken. We
understand and appreciate the fullness and richness of its significance only by looking upon it as
grounded on and flowing out of what Christ had
the momlent before been saying. At first sight it
might seem as if there was something like confinement and contraction in the preceding utterances of Jesus. He claims all things as
committed to him. Otherwise than through
him nothing can come to us. He tells us that
for all true knowledge of the Father we must
be indebted exclusively to him. As to our
knowing and receiving, does this not seem to
narrow the channel of their conveyance? Yes,
as this channel lies outside our earth, spanning
the mysterious distance between it and heaven;




122     THE EMBASSY OF THE BAPTIST.
but watch as this channel touches the earth and
spreads out its waters on every side, then see
how all narrowness and contraction disappears.
"All things are delivered unto me of my
Father." But why so delivered, why put so
exclusively into his hands? Simply and solely
that they might so easily, so freely, so fully
come unto ours. For us to go elsewhere than
to him, to expect that otherwise than through
him we are to receive anything, is to resist and
repudiate this ordinance of the Father. But
he has all, he holds all as the Treasurer of the
Kingdom, the Steward of Divine Mercies, the
sinner's divinely constituted Trustee, and he
has all and holds all under the condition that
there shall be the freest, most unrestricted,
most gracious dispensing of all the treasures
committed to his custody, that whoever asks
shall get, that no needy one shall ever come to
him and be sent unrelieved away. " No man
knoweth the Father but he to whomsoever the
Son will reveal him."  But does he niggardly
withhold that revelation, or restrict it to a few?
No; wide as the world is, of all who seek to
know the Father that knowing him they may
have peace, so wide is the unlimited invitation
spread. In many a sublime attractive position




THE EMBASSY OF THE BATIST.     123
do we see Jesus standing while executing his
gracious office here on earth-in none loftier
or more divine than when placing himself in
the centre of the wide circle of humanity, and,
looking round upon the millions of our race,laborers to weariness,-with this or that other
burden pressing them to the earth, with the
full consciousness of one who has the power to
relieve all who come, he says:" Come unto
me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and
I will give you rest."  Rest,-this is what our
inward nature most deeply needs; for everywhere, in every region of it-in our intellect,
our conscience, our affections, our will-the
spirit of unrest, like a possessing demon, haunts
us with its disturbing presence. Then let us
see how Christ would have us bring these
vexed souls of ours to him, that from every
such haunted region of it he may cast the vexing demon out.
Our intellect, in its search after God, is in irnrest, re-echoing the ancient plaint, " Oh that I
knew where I might find him!.... Behold, I
go forward, but he is not there; and backward,
but I callnnot perceive him: on the left hanld,
where he doth work, but I cannot behold himr:
lie hideth himself on the right hand, that I cal



124     THE EMBASSY OF THE BAPTIST.
not see him." There dawns upon us the sublime idea of a Being infinitely wise, and just,
and good, author of all and orderer of all, but
through the clouds and darkness with which his
guidance and government of this world is so
densely swathed we begin to lose sight of him.
Looking at him as revealed alone in the ways of
his Providence, we get perplexed as we look
around upon a world in which such oppressions,
wrongs, injustices are done, where might so often triumphs over right, where sin and misery so
fearfully abound, where death comes in to close
the short-lived, chequered scene of every earthly life. Faith begins to lose its footing, now believing and now doubting, now all things clear,
now all things clouded, restlessly we are tossed
as on a troubled sea. What we want is some
firm ground for our faith in God to rest on.
Jesus Christ supplies that ground in revealing
this God to us as our Father, in telling us that
such as he himself was, in love and pity and care
and help to all around him, such is the God and
Father of us all to the whole human family. In
our anxiety to get one true clear sight of that
Great Being whose doings we contemplate with
such a mixture of awe and of uncertainty, we
are ready with Philip to say:-" Lord, show us




THE EMBASSY OF THE BAPTIST.   125
the Father, and it sufficethl us." The answer
comes from the lips of Jesus, " Have I been so
long time with you, and yet hast thou not known
me, Philip? He that hath seen me hath seen
the Father."  It is a Father of whose love we
have the earthly image in the love of Christ,
who rules the world we live in. Can we doubt
any longer that wisdom, mercy, justice, and love
shall direct the whole train of the administration
of human affairs, the whole treatment of each
individual of our race?
There is unrest in the conscience. A wounded conscience who can bear? The sense of guilt
as it rises within the breast who can quench?
The dark forebodings that it generates who can
clear away? Men tell us our fears are idle; we
try to believe them, and put our foot upon those
fears to tread them down, but they spring up
afresh beneath our tread.  They tell us that
God is too merciful-too kind to punish. We
try to believe them, knowing that God is a
thousandfold milder, more merciful than thought
of ours can conceive; but we have only to look
within and around us upon the sufferings that
sin inflicts, and the vision of a Divinity that does
not, will not punish, vanishes like a dream of
the night. Where then can our consciences




126   TiE EMBASSY OF THE BAPTIST.
troubled spirits find repose, where but in him
who hath taken our sin upon him, in whom
there is redemption for us through his blood,
even-the forgiveness of all our sins? If we may
go to Christ for anything, it is for this forgrieness. If we may trust him in anything, it is in
the bestowal of this gift. If among the things
that have been delivered unto him of the Father,
there be one that more clearly and conspicuously than another is held out to be taken at
once from his most gracious hand, it is the
pardon, the peace, the reconciliation with God,
offered to us in him. If we put these aside, or
will not take them as the fruits of our Lord's
passion, death, and righteousness, purchased for
us at that great cost to him, gratuitously bestowed on us, then if the higher instincts of our
moral and spiritual nature become in any degree quickened, what a weary, toilsome, fruitless
task do they.set us to execute!
These instincts tell us that we are the. creatures of another's hand, the dependents on another's bounty, the subjects of another's rule,
that to him our first duties are owing, that
against him our greatest offences have been
committed, that to stand well with him is the
first necessity of our being. How then shall




THE EMBASSY OF THE BAPTIST.    127
we remedy the evil of our past ingratitude and
disobedience, how shall we bring things right
and keep things right between us and God?
Oh! if all the anxious thought, and weary labors, the prayers, the pains, the self-restraints,
the self-mortifications, the offerings at all the
altars, the giving to all the priests, the sacrifices
- personal, domestic, social, of affections, of
property, of life —that have been made by
mankind to turn away the apprehended wrath
of Heaven, and to work themselves into something like favor with the powers of the invisible world;-if they could be all brought together and heaped up in one great mass before
us, what a mountain-pile of toil and suffering
would they exhibit, what a gigantic monument
to the sense of sin, the power of conscience in
the human heart!. With a most mournful eye
we look upon that pile as we remember that it
has been heaped up needlessly and in vain,
that all that was wanted was the ceasing on
the part of those engaged in it from the effort
to establish a righteousness of their own before
God, the ceasing to revert to any such methods
to ward off the displeasure or to win the favor
of the Most High, the ceasing to repair to such
harbors of refuge as churches, altars and priests:




128     THE EMBASSY OF THE BAPTIST.
and the opening simply of the ear to the words
of Jesus, "Come unto me, all ye that labor and
are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."
There is unrest in our affections. Here they
foolishly wander, there they bitterly are checked,
at times dammed up by manifold obstructions,
at times running wildly to waste, ever seeking,
never finding full allowed complacent rest.
And why? Because nowhere here on earth
can a being or object be found on which we
can safely, innocently, abidingly lavish the
whole wealth of that affection which the heart
contains. For the right placing, the full. out.
drawing, the perfect and the permanent repose
of the heart, we want one to love-above us,
so that reverence may mingle with esteeln; like
us, so that closely and familiarly we may embrace-one in whom all conceivable excellences
meet and centre, all that the eye covets to admire, that the heart asks to love. We seek
for such an one in vain till we hear Jesus saying, Come unto me, and I will give you rest.
We go, and all, and more than all, we ask for,
could think of, we find in him. Grace and
truth blended in perfect harmony, a beauty un.
dimmed by a single blemish, a sympathy constant and entire, a love eternal, urchangeable,




THE EASSY OF THE BAPTIST.    129
which nothing can quench, from which nothing
can separate. Here at last, and here only, do
we find one wishing to be loved and worthy to
be loved with the full devotion of the heart.
Restless till it lights on him, with what a warm
embrace when it finds him does the heart of
faith clasp Jesus to its bosom! " What is thy
beloved more than another beloved?"-may
the watchman of the city say. The answer is
at hand: "My beloved is the chief among ten
thousand, he is altogether lovely. I am my
beloved's and my beloved is mine-my Lord,
my God, my Shepherd, Saviour, Kinsman,
Brother, Friend."
There is unrest in the will. It is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be.
It aims at, it attempts independence. We
would be our own masters, we will not have
another to reign over us; and so, instead of
the quiet of a settled order, there is confusion
and anarchy within. All, indeed, is not left
absolutely loose, unreined, unregulated. A yoke
of some kind we all are born under, or willingly
take on. Some assume the yoke of a single
passion of their nature, and if that passion be a
strong one, such as covetousness, it is not long
ere it turns the man into a slave, making him




130'THE EMBASSY OF THE BAPTIST.
a mere beast of burden-time for nothing, care
for nothing, taste for nothing, joy in nothing but
in working for it and under it. And the more
work done for it, the more does it impose-its
day of labor without any evening tide, its
week without a Sabbath. Nor does it mend
the matter much if instead of one there
be many such yokes about the neck, jostling
one another, fretting and galling the wearer by
the force and variety of the impulses. that drive
him in this direction and in that. It is to all
mankind as bearers of the one yoke, or the
many, that Jesus says-" Take up my yoke,
throw off these others, the yoke of pride, of
covetousness, of sensuality, of worldliness, of
ambition, of self-indulgence-take on that yoke,
which consists in devotedness to me, to duty,
in a life of self restraint, in a struggle with all
that is evil, a cultivation of all that is beautiful,
and.good, and holy. A hard yoke you may
think this to be, but believe me, my yoke is
easy, my burden is light, easier and lighter far
than those you are groaning under."
One great reason why we are unconscious
of the comparative lightness and easiness of this
yoke of the Christian discipleship is that we
take it on in the spirit of fear, and of a selfish




THE EMBASSY OF THE BPTIST.    131
mercenary hope, instead of with that trust and
love and gratitude which are the soft wrappings
which, laid beneath it, make it so easy to be
borne. It is as those who have been redeemed
to God by Christ's most precious blood, whose
sins have been all forgiven them for Jesus'
sake, whose peace has been made with God
through him; it is in the spirit of child-like
confidence, looking up to God as our Father in
heaven, and to himself as having ready in his
hand for us the grace and strength we need,
that Jesus would have us meet every duty,
face every temptation, endure every trial, of
the Christian life. But if instead of this it be
with a doubtful mind and a divided heart that
we put forth the hand to take on the yoke-if
we do this, not so much to render a return for
a great benefit already received, as to add to
our chance of receiving that benefit hereafter
-if it be for peace and not.from peace, for life
and not from life that we are working-what
is this but trying without throwing it off to
shift the old yoke of self a little, to loosen some
of its fastenings, and by their help try to attach to us the new yoke of Christ?- Is it
wonderful that, encumbered thus, there should
be little freedom of motion, little capacity for,




132       THE EMBASSY OF THE BrTIST.
and little enjoyment of, the work of faith and
labor of love?  If we  desire  to  know  how
truly easy the yoke of Jesus is, let us first enter into the rest that at once and in full
measure he gives to all who come to him —the
rest of forgiveness, peace, acceptance with God,
And then, animated and strengthened by the
possession and enjoyment of this rest, let us
assume the yoke, that in the bearing of it we may
enter into the further rest that there is for us in
him-the  rest of a meek  and  lowly  heart,
gentle, resigned, contented, patient of wrong,
submissive under suffering, a rest not given at
once or in full measure to any; to possess which
we must be ready to enter into the spirit of the
following verses:
" Fain would I my Lord pursue,
Be all my Saviour taught;
Do as Jesus bade me do,
And think as Jesus thought,
But'tis Thou must change my heart,
The perfect gift must come from Thee;
M[eek Redeemer, now impart
Thine own humility.
Lord, I cannot, must not rest
Till I thy mind obtain;
Chase presumption from my breast,
And all thy mildness gain.
Give me, Lord, thy gentle heart,
Thy lowly mind my portion be;
Meek Redeemer, now impart
Thine own humility."'




VII.
THE WOMAN WHO WAS A SINNER.t
COMING as it does in the narrative of St
Luke (the only evangelist who records
it) immediately after that discourse which
closed with the invitation, "Come unto me, all
ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will
give you rest," how natural the thought that
here, in what is told us about the woman who
was a sinner, we have one instance-perhaps
the first that followed its delivery-of that invitation being accepted,-of one wearied and
heavy laden coming to Jesus, and entering into
the promised rest. Multitudes had already
come to him to get their bodily ailments cured:
she may have been the first who came under
the pressure of a purely spiritual impulsegrieving, desiring, hoping, loving, to get all
and more than all she sought.
* Luke vii. 36-50.




134    TmHE WoAN WHO WAS A SINNER.
Jesus has accepted the invitation of a Pharisee, and reclines, leaning upon his left arm,
his head towards the table, his unsandalled feet
stretched outwards. Through the crowd of
guests, and servants, and spectators, a woman
well known in the city for the profligate life she
had been leading, glides nearer and nearer, till
she stands behind him. As she stands she
weeps. The tears fall thickly upon his feet.
She has nothing else with which to do it, so
she stoops and wipes the tears away with her
loose dishevelled hair. She gently grasps the
feet of Jesus to kiss them, and now she remembers the box she had brought, in hope, perhaps, to find some fitting opportunity of pouring its contents upon his head; but she can
make no nearer approach, and so she sheds
the precious perfumed ointment on those feet
which she had washed with her tears, wiped
with the hairs of her head, and covered with
the kisses of her lips.
What has brought this woman here? what
moves her to act in this way to Jesus? Somewhere, somehow Jesus had recently crossed her
path. She had heard his calls to repentance,
his offers of forgiveness, his promises of peace
and rest. The arrow had entered into her soul.




THE WOMA WHO WAS A SINNE.    135
She stood ashamed and confounded. Her iniquities took hold of her so that she was not able
to look up, yet deep within her heart new hopes
were rising, dimly before her eyes new prospects dawned. All the penitence she experienced, all the new desires, expectations, resolutions, that were filling her breast she owed to
him-to the gentle and loving yet resolute and
truthful spirit in which Jesus had spoken. She
had looked at him, had listened to him., had followed him as he opened those arms of his mercy
so widely, and invited all to come to him. And
what he so fully offered-the peace of forgiveness, the blessedness of meekness and lowliness,
of poverty of spirit, purity of heart-these are
what she now, above all things,- desired to have.
Believing that she can get them alone from him,
an irresistible attraction draws her to him.
Jewish women were wont to honor, by one or
other mark of favor shown, the Rabbi or teacher to whom they felt most attached or indebted.
But what shall she render unto One who has
already quickened her to a new life of hope and
love? She hears of his going to dine with the
Pharisee. Too well she knows how this man
and his guests will look upon her, what an act
of effrontery on her part it will appear that she




136    TiE WOMAN WHO WAS A SINNER.
should obtrude her presence into such a dwell
ing at such a time. But faith makes her bold,
love triumphs over fear. She presses in and
on, till at last she finds herself bending over the
feet of Jesus, with the costliest thing she has,
the alabaster box of ointment, in her hand.
As she stands behind that form, as she stoops
to embrace those feet, all the thoughtlessness,
the recklessness, the unrestrained self-indulgence of by-past years, the ties she had broken,
the injuries she had done, the reproaches she
had incurred, the sins she had committed, flash
upon her memory. Who is she, that she should
come so near and touch so familiarly the pure
and the holy Jesus? She cannot meet his eye,
she does not press herself upon his notice. But
is he not the meek and compassionate, as well as
the pure and the holy One? While others had
frowned upon her, avoided her, discarded her,
treated her as an outcast, had he not shown a
deep and tender interest in her, a yearning over
her to take her in his hand and lead her back
to the paths of purity and peace? It was this
kindly treatment that had broken down all
power to resist upon her part, which had given him such a hold of her, which had brought
her to the house of'the Pharisee to see him,




TE WO        O oA WHO WAS A SINNER.    137
which had drawn her so close to him. But the
very thought of all the love and pity that he
had shown to her and to all sinners open afresh
the fountains of shame and self-reproach, and
the tears of a true and deep repentance flow
forth; not the tears of bare self-condemnation
— a stinging remorse, goading the spirit to despair. Along with a true sense of her sin there
is an apprehension of the Divine mercy-that
mercy revealed to her in Jesus. She sorrows
not over her sins as one who has no hope: a
trust in Christ's readiness and power to pardon
and to save her has already entered into her
heart. The very sense, however, of his exceeding graciousness quickens the sense of her exceeding sinfulness. The faith and hope to which
she has been begotten intensify her penitence,
and that penitence intensifies her love; so that
as we look upon her-first standing silently
weeping, then bending down and bathing those
feet with her tears, then clasping and kissing
them and pouring the rich ointment over them
-she presents herself to our eye as the most
striking picture of a loving, humble penitent at
the feet of Jesus which the Gospels present.
It was with a very different sentiment from
that with which we are disposed to look at her




138    THE WOMAN WHO WAS A SINNER.
that she was looked at by the Pharisee who
presided at the feast. He had noticed her entrance, watched her movements, seen that,
thouglS'hiot turning round to speak to her,
Jesus was not unconscious of her presence, was
permitting her to wash and wipe and anoint
his feet. For the woman he has nothing but
indignation and contempt. He thinks only of
what she had been, not of what she is; and his
only wonder as to her is, how she couldlhave
presumed to enter here and act as she has been
doing. But he wonders, also, at Jesus. He
cannot be the prophet that so many take him to
be, or he would have known what kind of
woman this was; for he could not have known
that and yet allowed himself to be defiled with
her touch. Whatever respect he had been
prepared to show to Jesus begins to suffer loss,
as he sees him allowing such familiarities.to be
practised by such hands. Not that this respect
had ever been very spiritual or very profound.
The omissions that our Lord -notices-notices
not so much in the way of complaint as for the
purpose of bringing out the contrast between
the treatment given by the two-Simon and
the woman-would seem rather to imply that
he had not been careful to show any particular




TmE WoKaN WHO WAS A SINER.    139
regard to his guest. Perhaps he thought that
he was paying such a compliment to Jesus in
inviting him to his house that he need be the
less attentive to the courtesies of his reception.
It was a rare thing for a man like him-a
Pharisee —to do such a thing. Simon, however, was not one of the strict and rigid, the
religious devotees of his order; lhe was more a
moralist than a pietist; and seeing much in
Jesus to approve, and even admire, he was
quite ready to ask him to his house, in the
hope, perhaps, that in the easy freedom of social intercourse he might test the pretensions
of this new teacher, and see further than others
into his true character and claims. One mark
or token of his order is deeply stamped upon
this Simon-pride,-a pride it may have been,
a little different from that of the Pharisee
whom Jesus represents in the parable as praising himself before God for his fasting twice in
the week and giving tithes of all that he possessed, yet quite akin to his in comparing himself with and despising others. He, too, mIight
have stood and prayed thus with himself: God,
I thank thee that I am not as other men are,
extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or as this woman
here. Anything like contact, concert, familiar




140    THE WoKA wHO WAS A SINNER.
intercourse with such a low, abandoned woman,
no man who had any proper self-respect, he
thinks, could practise or endure. And now
that he sees Jesus consenting to be touched
and handled by her, his only explanation of il
is thathe cannot know what kind of woman
she is. "Now when the Pharisee which had
bidden him saw it, he spake within himself, saying, This man, if he were a prophet, would
have known who and what manner of woman
this is that toucheth him."*
In thinking and feeling so, he entirely overlooks the change that had taken place-the
evidence of which appeared in the very manner of fhe woman's present conduct, and above
all the nature and strength of the tie which
that change created between her and Jesus.
It was to lift him out of this deep abyss of
pride, and if possible to show him how much
closer, deeper, tenderer a relationship it was in
which this penitent stood to him, than that in
which he, Simon, stood, that Jesus stated the
case of the two debtors. " And Jesus answering said unto him, Simon, I have somewhat to
say unto thee. And he saith, Master, say on.
*Luke vii. 39.




THE WOMAN WHO WAS A SINNER.    141
There was a certain creditor which had two
debtors: the one owed five hundred pence, and
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?
Simon answered and said, I suppose that he to
whom he forgave most. And he.said unto him,
Thou hast rightly judged."
As little as David saw the drift of Nathan's
parable of the little ewe lamb, so little did Simon at first perceive the drift of the one now
addressed to himself, and so he promptly answers, I suppose that it would be he to whom
he forgave most. Out of his own mouth he
stands convicted. It would be straining the
short parable in this instance spoken by our
Lord if we took it as strictly and literally representing the relative positions before God in
which Simon and the woman stood, or as intimating that both had been actually forgiven,
the one as much more than the other as five
hundred exceeds fifty pence.
It is not so much the amount actually owed
as that known and felt by the debtors to be
owing, and their conscious inability to meet in
any way the payment, that supplies the groundwork of our Lord's application of the suppositi



142    THE WOMAN WHO WAS A SINNER.
tious case. "And he turned to the woman,
and said- unto Simon, Seest thou this woman?
I entered into thine house, thou gavest me no
water for my feet: but she hath washed my
feet with tears, and wiped them with the hairs
of her head; Thou gavest me no kiss: but
this woman since the time I came in hath not
ceased to kiss my feet  My head with oil thou
didst not anoint: but this woman hath anointed
my feet with ointment. Wherefore I say unto
thee, Her sins, which are many, are forgiven;
for she loved much: but to whom little is forgiven, the same loveth little." Thou hast been
watching, Simon, all that this woman has been
doing, but what is the true explanation of
her conduct, the explanation that vindicates
at once her conduct to me and my conduct
to her? Why is it that she has been showing me marks of respect, and strong personal attachment contrasting so with those that
you have shown, or rather have omitted to
show? She has done so, because she loves so
much; and she loves so much, because she has
been so much forgiven. It is but little compared with her that you feel you owe, but little
that you can be forgiven; but little therefore,
that you love.




THE WOMAN WHO WAS A SUmER.    143
In speaking to him thus, how forbearingly,
how leniently did the Lord deal with Simon;
how much more leniently and forbearingly we
may be apt to think than he had deserved, or
than his case warranted. But it was so in
every case with our Divine Master, ever seeking the good of those he dealt with-striving
by the gentle insinuations of his grace to win
*his way into their consciences and hearts,
rather than by full display of all their guilt or
stern denunciation of it. If in this instance
he was successful, if Simon's eyes were opened
to discern in the two debtors himself and the
woman, and in the creditor to whom all their
debts were due none other than He who was
sitting at his table, what a wonderful revolution in his estimate of Jesus must have taken
place; for nothing in this whole narrative
strikes so much as the simple, natural, easy,
unostentatious manner in which Jesus assumes
to himself the position of that Being to whom
all spiritual debts are owing, and by whom they
are forgiven.
"Her sins," said Jesus of the woman to
Simon, "which are many, are forgiven, for she
loved much." So to interpret this saying of
the Saviour as to make the loving the ground




144    TiE WoAN WHO WAS A SINNEs.
of the forgiveness would be to contradict both
the letter and spirit of the preceding parable,
in which the love is represented as flowing out
of the forgiveness, and not the forgiveness as
flowing out of the love-Jesus points to the
love not as the spring but as the evidence of
the forgiveness-to the strength of the one as
indicating the extent of the other.
When Christ said so emphatically to the
Phari:;ee, "Simon, I have somewhat to say to
thee," the attention of the woman must have
been for the moment diverted from her own
case, directed to the colloquy that followed, the
more so as it seemed at first to have no reference to her. But when He turned, and, looking on her for the first time, said, " Seest thou
this woman?" into what a strange tumult of
emotion must she have been thrown, all eyes
on her-the contrast between her attentions
and love to Jesus and those of Simon drawn
out in particular after particular by our Lord
himself, all closed by her hearing Him declare,
"Wherefore I say unto thee, Her sins, which
are many, are forgiven." The desire, the
hope of pardon, had already dawned upon her
heart. She had trusted in the Divine mercy as
revealed to her in Jesus, and already experi



TaE WOMAN WHO WAS A SnrR.   145
enced the relief and comfort this trust was fitted
to impart. Her faith, however, was yet imperfect, her sense, her assurance of forgiveness not
relieved from uncertainty and doubt; but now,
from the lips of the Lord Himself, she hears the
fact announced that her sins had been forgiven,
and, as if that were not enough-as if He would
do everything that word of his could do, to
seal the assurance on her heart-Jesus turns to
her and says, " Thy sins are forgiven." Fear
takes wings and flies away, doubt can find no
more room within, the sins without number of
all her bygone life rush out of sight into the
depths of that sea into which Jesus casts them.
Not ceasing to be penitent, more penitent than
ever, the bowed-down spirit is lifted up as the
full blessedness enters and possesses it of one
whose transgression is all forgiven, whose sin
is altogether covered.
" Thy sins are forgiven thee."  Was it in
wonder and with an awe like that of men who
feel themselves in the presence of One in whom
the most peculiar prerogative of the Divinity
resided, or was it in hatred and with contempt
of him as an arrogant, presumptuous blasphemer, that those aronnd the table began to say
to themselves, " Who is this that forgiveth sins




146    THE WOMN WHO WAS A SINNER.
also?"  Whatever their state of mind was as
to himself, Jesus does not lay it bare, nor stop
to expose or correct it. But there was one
mistake that they might make as to the forgiveness he had pronounced. They might imagine
it to have been capriciously or arbitrarily dispensed; they might fail to trace its connection
with'the spiritual condition of her upon whom
it was bestowed; if not dissevering it from its
source in him, they might dissociate it from its
channel, the faith in him which she had cherished. Even she herself, after what had been
said, might be disposed to attach the forgiveness to the love, rather than the love to the
forgiveness, overlooking the common root of
both in that faith which brought her to Jesus,
and taught her to cast her confidence alone
and undividedly on him. Therefore his last
word, as he dismisses her, is, " Thy faith hath
saved thee; go in peace." In peace she goes,
silently as she had entered; not a single word
throughout escaping from her lips, her heart
at first too full of humiliation, grief, and shame,
now too fill of joy and gratitude. In peace
she goes, light forever after on her heart the
reproach that man might cast upon her —the
Christ-given peace the keeper of her mind and




THEm WoAN WHO WAS A SUmER.    147
heart. She goes to hide herself from our view,
her name and all her after-history unknown.
The faith and traditions of Western Christendom have indeed identified her with Mary of
Magdala, and assigned to her a place among
those women who ministered to the Lord of
their substance, who were admitted to close
and familiar intercourse with him in Galilee,
and who were privileged to be the last attendants on the cross and first visitors of the
sepulchre.
We will not presume to say how far the
former life of the penitent woman would have
interfered with her occupying such a position;
we will not allude to the difficulty that will
occur as you try to imagine what substance she
could have had, or whence derived, out of
which she could minister to Jesus. Neither
shall we dwell upon the fact that out of Mary
of Magdala seven devils had been cast, a possession not necessarily implying any former
criminality of life, yet apparently quite inconsistent with the kind of life that this woman
had been leading. Enough, that when Mary,
called Magdalene, is first mentioned, as she is
in the opening verses of the next chapter in
St. Luke's Gospel, she is introduced as a new




148    THE WOMAN WHO WAS A SINNER.
person, not amid scenes then, nor at any time
thereafter, that in any way connect her with
the woman that had been a sinner. It is true
that, whilst there is the absence of all evidence
in favor of their identification, there is the
absence also of evidence sufficient positively
to disprove it. In these circumstances it may
be grateful to many to trace in the narrative
now before us, the earlier history of one so
loved, and honored afterwards by Jesus, as
was Mary of Magdala. Much more grateful
we own to us is the belief that this penitent,
whose broken heart was so tenderly upbound
— having got the healing from his gentle loving hands-from that notoriety into which her
sin had raised her, retired voluntarily into an
obscurity so deep that her name and her dwelling-place, and all her after-story, lie hidden
from our sight.
The forgiveness so graciously conveyed to
this nameless penitent is equally needed by all
of us, is offered to us all-Christ is as willing to
bestow it upon each of us as ever he was to bestow it upon her. The manner of our possession and enjoyment of this gift depends upon
the manner in which we deal with the tender
of it made to us by him. We may keep it for



THE WOMWA WHO WAS A SINMER.    149
ever hanging at a distance out before us, a thing
desired or hoped for, now with more and now
with less eagerness and expectancy, according
to the changing temper of our mind and heart.
But we might have, we ought to have, this blessing now in hand as our present full secure peacegiving possession. And not till it thus be ours,
not till the hand of faith shall grasp and hold it
as ours in Christ, ours through our oneness with
him in whom we have redemption through his
blood, even this very forgiveness of our sins;
not till we exchange the vague and general and
vacillating hope for the firm yet humble trust
which appropriates at once in its full measure
this rich benefit of our Lord's life and death for
us; not till the comforting sense that our sins
have been forgiven visits and cheers our heart,
can we love our Saviour as he should be loved,
and as he wishes to be loved by us. It is when
we know how much it is that we have owed,
and how much it is that we have been forgiven,
that the bond gets closest that binds us to hima complex, ever-growing, ever-tightening bond,
the more that is forgiven ever revealing more that
needs forgiveness; with us as with this woman,
as with all true believers, the humility, the penitence, the faith, the love, the peace, that all ac



150    THE WOMAN WHO WAS A SINNER.
company or flow forth from the granted forgiveness, all intensifying each other, all leading us
more simply, more entirely, more habitually,
more confidingly to Christ, for mercy to pardon
%nd grace to help us in every time of need.




THE COLLISION WITH THE PHARISEES-THE FIRST
PARABLES-THE STILLING OF THE TEMPESTTHE DEMONIAC OF GADARA.*
OUR Lord's second circuit through Galilee,
if not more extensive, was more public
and formal than the first. He was now constantly attended by the twelve men whom he
had chosen out of the general company of his
followers, while certain women, Mary, Joanna,
Susanna, and many others, some of them of
good position, waited on him, ministering to
him of their substance. The crowds that gathered round him wherever he went; the wonder, joy, and gratitude with which his miracles,
particularly those recent ones of raising the
dead, were hailed; the impression his dis* Matt xii. 22-50; xiii.; viii. 23-34; Mark iii. 22-30; iv.; v.
1-20; Luke xi. 14-54; viii. 22-39,




152           THE CoLISION
courses had created, and the steps that he had
now obviously taken towards organizing a distinct body of disciples, fanned into an open
flame the long-smouldering fire of Pharisaic
opposition. The Pharisees of Galilee may not
at first have been as quick and deep in their resentment as were their brethren of Jerusalem,
neither had they the same kind of instruments
in their hands to employ against him. But
their resentment grew as the profound discord
between the whole teaching and the life of
Jesus and their own more fully developed itself,
and it was zealously fostered by a deputation
that came down from the capital. It had already once and again broken out, as when
they had charged him with being a Sabbathbreaker and a blasphemer. On these occasions
Jesus had satisfied himself with rebuking on
the spot the men by whom the charges had
been preferred. But he had not yet broken
with the Pharisees as a party, nor denounced
them either privately to his disciples or publicly
to the multitude. But now, at the close of his
second circuit through Galilee, after nearly a
year's labor bestowed upon that province, the
collision came, and the whole manner of his
speech and action towards them was changed.




WITH THE PHARISEES.       153
Early in the forenoon of one of his longest
and most laborious days in Capernaum, there
was brought to him one possessed with a devil,
blind and dumb. Blindness and dumbness,
whether springing from original organic defect
or induced by disease, he had often before
cured. But here, underlying both, was the
deeper spiritual malady of possession. Jesus
cast the devil out, and the immediate effect of
the dispossession was the recovery of the powers of speech and vision. There must have
been something peculiar in the case. Perhaps
it lay in this, that whereas dumbness in all ordinary cases springs either from congenital deafness or from some defect in the organs of speech,
it was due here to neither of these causes.
The man could hear as well as others, and once
he had spoken as well as they. But from the
time the devil entered he had been tongue-tied,
had tried to speak but could not. A new and
horrible kind of dumbness had come upon him,
the closing of his lips by an inward constraint
that, struggle as he might, he could not overcome. St. Luke speaks only of the dumbness,
as if in it more than in the blindness lay the
peculiarity of the case.*  St. Matthew records
Luke xi. 1,




154            TmH  CoLTsION
another instance of the ejection of a devil from
one who was dumb, in which the same effect
followed; the dumb speaking as soon as the
devil was cast out.* It is at least very remarkable that it was in connexion with this
class of cases only that the double result appeared, of an extraordinary commotion among
the people and an extraordinary allegation put
forward by the Pharisees.
The casting out of devils had been one of the
earliest and most common of our Lord's miracles; always carefully distinguished by the
Evangelists from the healing of ordinary diseases; awakening generally not more wonder,
perhaps not so much as some of the bodily
cures. If the testimony of Josephus is to be
credited, demoniac possession was common at
this period, and exorcism by the Jews themselves not unfrequent. But when a dumb devil
was cast out, and instantly the man began to
speak, we are told that in one instance " the
multitudes marvelled, saying, It was never so
seen in Israel;"* and in another, "All the
people were amazed, and said, Is not this the
Son of David?"t  Here for the first time was
an open expression of an incipient faith in
* Matt. ix. 33.    t Matt. xii. 23.




WITH THE PHARISEES.       155
Jesus as the Messiah, who was known and
spoken of all over Judea as the Son of David.
Whatever his words and actions might have
implied, Jesus had never taken this title to
himself-never claimed to be the Messiah; but
now the people of themselves began to think
that it must be so-that by none other than he
could works like these be- done. The man
whose character the Pharisees had been attempting to malign, whose influence with the
people they had been doing their utmost to
andermine, is not only hailed as a teacher sent
from God, but as a prophet, nay, more than a
prophet, the very Son of David. What is to
be said and done? The facts of the case they
do not, they cannot, deny. That the man's
dumbness had been nothing but a common
dumbness, that there had been no evil spirit in
him to be cast out of him, they do not venture
to suggest. Those ingenious Scribes that have
come down from Jerusalem can see but one
way out of the difficulty. They do not hesitate
to suggest it, nor their friends beside them to
adopt it; and so they go about the crowd that
is standing lost in wonder, saying contemptuously, " This fellow doth not cast out devils but
by Beelzebub, the Prince of the Devils." A




156           THE CoIuSION
wine-bibber, a gluttonous man, a friend of publicans and sinners, a Sabbath-breaker, a blasphemer, they had called him, but here is the
last and vilest thing that calumny can say of
him —that he is in league with Satan, and that
it is to his connexion with the devil, and to
that alone, that he owes all his wisdom and his
power. How does Jesus meet this calumny?
How does he speak of and to the men who
were guilty of forging and circulating it? They
were busy among the crowd, secretly propagating the slander, but they must not think
that he was unconscious or careless of what
they were saying of him. He calls. them unto
him,* and they come. His accusers and he
stand forth before the assembled multitude,
fairly confronted. First, in the simplest, plainest manner, obviously for the sake of convincing any of the simple-minded people who might
be ready to adopt this new solution of the
secret of his power, he exposes its foolishness
and injustice. There was, he assumes, a prince
of the devils, who had a kingdom of his own,
opposed to the kingdom of God. That kingdom of darkness might admit of much internal
* Mark iii. 23.




WITH THE PHARISEES.      157
discord, but in one thing it was and must ever
be united-in its antagonism to the kingdom
of light. No more than any other kingdom,
or city, or house, could it stand, were it, in
that respect, divided against itself. Yet it was
such kind of division that these Pharisees were
attributing to it. Their own sons undertook to
cast out devils: was it by Beelzebub that they
did it? If not, why cast the imputation of doing so upon him? None but a strong one
could enter the house of the human spirit, as
the devil was seen to enter it in these cases of
possession. It must be a stronger than he
who binds him, and casts him forth, and strips
him of all his spoils. This was what they had
just seen Jesus do; and if he, by the mighty
power of God, had done so, then no doubt the
kingdom was come unto them-come in his
person, his teaching, his work. He-Jesusstood now the visible head and representative
of the kingdom, in the midst of them. To
come to him was to enter that kingdom-to be
with him was to be on the side of that kingdom;
and such was its nature, such the claims he
made, that there could be no neutrality, no
middle ground to be occupied. He that was
not with him was against him; he that gath



158           THE, COT;nTSION
ered not with him was scattering abroad.
Much there was in the spirit and conduct of
many then before him whom the application of
this test must bring in as guilty; but let them
know that all manner of sin and blasphemy
might be forgiven. In ignorance and unbelief
they might speak against the Son of Man, and
yet not put themselves beyond the pale of
mercy; but in presence of that Divine spirit
and power in which he spake and acted, not
only to ignore it, but to misrepresent and
malign it, as these Pharisees had done, was to
enter upon a path of willful, perverse resistance
to the Spirit of God, which, if pursued, would
land the men who took and followed it in a
guilt for which there would be no forgiveness,
either here or hereafter; no forgiveness, not
because any kind or degree of guilt could exhaust the Divine mercy or exceed its power,
but because the pursuers of such a path, sooner
or later, would reach such a state of mind, and
heart, and habit, that all chance or hope of
their ever being disposed to fulfill, or capable
of fulfilling, those conditions upon which alone
mercy is or can be dispensed, would vanish away.
The blasphemy against the Holy Ghost, which
never hath forgiveness, lies not in any single




WITH THE PEHABISEES.      159
word or deed. Jesus, though not obscurely
hinting that in the foul calumny that had been
uttered there lay the elements of the unpardonable offence, does not distinctly say that
the men before him never would or could be
forgiven for uttering it. His words are words
of warning rather than of judgment. A monstrous accusation had been made, one in which
if the men who made it persevered, they would
be displaying thereby the very temper and
spirit of such blasphemy against the Holy
Ghost as never would be forgiven. It was out
of an evil heart that the evil word had been
spoken. It was by a corrupt tree that this
corrupt fruit had been borne, and the heart
would get worse, the tree more rotten, unless'
now made better. Such bitter words of ungodly malice and despite as the Pharisees had
spoken, were but outward indices of the state
of things within. Yet such good signs were
words in general, that "Verily," said Jesus.
" I say unto you,.... By thy words thou shalt
be justified, and by thy words thou shalt be
condemned."
The men whom Jesus thus publicly rebuked
— characterizing them as a generation of vipers
-for the mopment were silenced. Some of their




160           THE Co-nsION
party, however, now interposed. Jesus had unequivocally asserted that his works had been
wrought by none other than the mighty power
of God. Let Him prove this as Moses, Joshua,
Samuel, Elijah had done. The works themselves were not enough to do this. The popular belief was that demons and false gods could
work signs on earth. It was the true God only
who could give signs from heaven. Such a sign
they had asked Christ to show.*  "The people
gathered thick together," we are told, to hear
Christ's answer; but, as at other times when
the same demand was made, our Lord would
point to no other sign than that of the most remarkable foreshadowing in Old Testament times
of his own resurrection from the dead. This
allusion to the extraordinary incident in the
history of Jonas was doubly unsatisfactory to
his hearers. It was no sign from above, but
rather one from below. It was a sign of that
of which they had as yet no conception —in
which they had no faith-it carried with it to
them no additional or confirmatory evidence.
No other sign, however, was to be given to a
generation which was acting worse than the
Luke ix., 16.




WITH THE PHARISEES.        161
heathen inhabitants of Nineveh, the Gentile
queen of the south; a greater than Jonas, a
greater than Solomon, was among them, yet
they despised his wisdom and would not repent
at his call. A brighter light than had ever
dawned upon them was now shining-. nay, was
set up conspicuously for them to behold it;
but there must be an eye within to see, as well
as a light without to look at, before any true
illumination can take place. And if that eye be
evil-be in any way incapacitated for true discernment, whatever the external effulgence be,
the body remains full of darkness. Even such
a darkness was now settling over a people who
were going to present but too sad a type of
what was sometimes seen in cases of demoniac
possession, when an unclean spirit, for a time
cast out, returned with seven other spirits more
wicked than itself. From amongst the Jewish
people, from and after the Babylonish captivity, the old demon of idolatry had been ejected.
For a time the house had been swept and garnished, but now a sevenfold worse infatuation
was coming upon this generation, to drive it on
to a deadlier catastrophe.
The exciting intelligence that in the presence
of a vast multitude Jesus had been accused by




162           THE CouIsIoN
the Pharisees of being nothing else than an
emissary and ally of the devil; that, not satisfied with defending himself against the charge,
he had in turn become their accuser, and broken out into the most open and unrestrained
denunciation of their whole order; that the feud
which for mofiths past had been secretly gathering strength had ended at last in open rupture, was carried to the house in which Mary
and the Lord's brothers were dwelling. A fatal
thing it seems to them for him to have plunged
into such a deadly strife with the most powerful party in the country. They will try what
they can to draw him out of it. They hasten
to the spot and find the crowd so large, the
press so great, that they cannot get near him.
They send their message in to him. "Behold!"
says one who is standing next to Jesus, " thy
mother and thy brethren stand without, desiring to speak with thee." A mother who if fond
enough was yet so fearful, who once before had
tried to dictate to him, and had been checked
at Cana; brethren, who thought that he was
beside himself, none of whom as yet believed
on himn-what right had they to interrupt him
at his work-to move him from his purpose?'  ho is my mother?" said he to the man who




WITH THE PHARISEES.        163
conveyed to him the message, "and who are
my brethren?  Then pausing, looking" round
about on them which sat about him," stretching
forth his hands towards his disciples-" Behold!"
he exclaimed, "my mother and my brethren i
For whosoever shall do the will of my Father
which is in heaven, the same is my brother, and
sister, and mother."  A woman in the crowd,
who has been standing lost in a mere human
admiration of him, hears his mother spoken of,
and cannot in the fullness of her womanly emotion but call her blessed: "Yea, rather blessed," said Jesus to her, "are they that hear the
word of God, and keep it."
So, when in the very heart of his missionwork on earth they spake to him about the
closest human ties, his nearest earthly relatives
-close as these were, and willing as he was in
their own mode and sphere to acknowledge
them, so resolutely did Jesus wave them aside,
so sublimely did he rise above, setting himself
forth as the elder brother of that whole family in
heaven and earth named by his name, and who
are followers in the footsteps of him who came
not to do his own will but the will of him that
sent him. The earthly and the heavenly bonds,
the common and the Christian ties, do not always




164            THE CO-ISION
coincide, neither are they always in harmony.
If ever they interfere-if mother, or brother, or
sister, or dearest friend should once tempt us
away from him in nearness to whom standeth
our eternal life-then let us remember the scene
in Capernaum, and ask our Lord to give us of
his own Spirit, here as everywhere to follow
him.
Jesus did not go out to his mother and
brethren when they sent for him, did not go
even to their house when fatigue and exhaustion called for a brief repose. He rather accepted the invitation of a Pharisee to take a
hurried repast in a neighboring dwelling, the
multitude waiting meanwhile for him without.
In haste to resume his work, and knowing
withal that it was no friendly company he was
asked to join, Jesus went in and sat down at
once, neglecting the customary ablutions. The
host and his friends were not slow to notice the
neglect, nor was he less slow to notice the sentence against him they were passing in their
hearts. The men around him here were part
of that very band whose vile imputation of
confederacy with Satan had already released
his lips from all restraint, and called for and
vindicated his addressing them as he had done.




WITH THE PHARISEES.       165
Nor does he alter now his tone. We may not,
indeed, believe that all which St. Luke, in the
latter half of the eleventh chapter of his Gospel, records as spoken by him-the woe after
woe pronounced upon the ZPharisees and the
lawyers-was uttered indoors, as soon as he
had seated himself at the table. Knowing how
usual a thing it is with the three Synoptical
Evangelists to bring together into one discourse
sentences that were uttered at different times
and upon different occasions, we are inclined
rather to believe that the greater part of it was
spoken after the hasty meal was over, and
Jesus stood once more the centre of a vast
concourse, with Scribes and Pharisees urging
him vehemently, and provoking him to speak
many things, lying in wait for him to catch
something out of his mouth, that they might
accuse him.* They got this out of his mouth,
that here in Galilee —a year and more before
that memorable day, the last of his public
ministry, when he stood within the Temple and
closed the exciting controversies with those terrible denunciations which St. Matthew has preserved to us inl the twenty-third chapter of his
* Luke xi. 53, 54.




166           TuE CouISION
Gospel, in briefer and more compendious
terms, the very woes that were then rolled
over the heads of the Pharisees of Jerusalem,
were rolled over theirs in Capernaum. A new
phase of our Saviour's character-very different from that which we had before us in his
treatment of the penitent sinner-thus reveals
itself to our view; his firmness, his courage,
his outspokenness, the depth of his indignant
recoil from, the sternness of his unmitigated
condemnation of, the inconsistencies, the hypocrisies, the haughtiness, the cruelty, the
tyranny of the Scribes and Pharisees. He had
a right to speak and act towards them which
none but he could have. He was their.omniscient judge, he knew that in hating him
they were hating his Father also, that the
spirit of persecution which they displayed
sprang from a deeper source than mere personal animosity to him as a man. As no other
can ever occupy the same position towards his
fellow-men as that in which Jesus stood, so to
no other can his conduct here be a guide or
precedent. One thing only remains for us to
do: to try to enter as thoroughly as we can
into the entire harmony that there was between
all the love, and pity, and gentleness, and com



WITH TE PHABIsEES.         167
passion that he showed towards the ignorant,
the erring, the sinful who manifested the least
openness to conviction, the least disposition to
repent and believe, and that profound and, as
we may call it, awful antipathy which he displayed to those who, built up in their spiritual
pride, under the very cloak of a pretentious
pietism, indulged some of the meanest and
most malignant passions of our nature, willfully
shutting their eyes to the light of heaven that
was shining in the midst of them, and plunging
on in the darkness towards nothing short of
spoken and acted blasphemy against the Hoiy
Ghost.
But if the forenoon of this long and busy
day at Capernaum was rendered remarkable
by the change of attitude which Jesus assumed
towards the Pharisees, its afternoon was rendered equally if not still more remarkable by
the change of method in addressing the multitude. More than half of the term allotted to
his ministry in Galilee had now expired. The
temper of the community towards him had
been fairly tried. The result was sufficiently
manifest. Here beside him was a small band
of followers-ignorant yet willing to be taught;
weak in faith but strong in personal attach



168         TEm FIRST PARABLTE
ment. "There against him was a powerful and
numerous band, socially, politically, religiously,
the leaders of the people. Between the two
lay the bulk of the common people —greatly
excited by his miracles, listening with wonder
and half approval to his words, siding with him
rather than against him in his conflict with the
Pharisees. With them, if we looked only at
external indications, we should say that he was
generally and highly popular. But it was
popularity of a kind that Jesus had no wish to
gain, as he had no purpose to which to turn it.
Behind all the show of outward attachment he
saw that there was but little discernment of
his true character, but little disposition to receive and honor him as the Redeemer of mankind, but little capacity to understand the more
secret things of that spiritual kingdom which
it was his office to establish and extend. And
as he had altered his conduct towards his secret enemies by dragging out their opposition
to the light and openly denouncing them, so
now he alters his conduct toward his professed
friends, by clothing his higher instructions to
them in a new and peculiar garb. As he left
the house in which the hasty mid-day meal was
taken, the crowd gathered round him-in



THE FIRST PARABLES        169
creased in numbers, a keener edge put upon
its curiosity by what had just occurred. Followed by this crowd, he goes down to the lake
side; finds the press of the people round about
him oppressive and inconvenient, sees a bpat
lying in close to the beach, enters it, sits downs
and, separated from them by a little strip of
water, addresses the multitude that lines the
shore. He speaks about a sower, and how it
fared with the seed he sowed: " some of it fell
by the wayside, and some upon stony places,
and some among thorns, and some upon good
soil." He speaks about a field in which good
seed was sown by day but tares by night, and
how both grew up, and some would have them
separated; but the householder to whom the
field belonged would not hear of it, but would
have both grow together till the harvest.
He speaks of a man casting seed into the
ground, and finding that by night and by day,
whether he slept or woke, was watching and
tending, or doing nothing about it, that seed
secretly grew up, he knew not how; he speaks
of the least of seeds growing up into the tallest
of herbs; of the leaven working in the three
measures of meal till the whole was leavened;
and he tells his hearers that the kingdom of




170         THE FIRST PARABLES.
heaven is like unto each of the things that he
describes. His hearers are all greatly interested, for it is about plain, familiar things of
the house, the garden, the field, that he speaks:
and yet a strange expression of mingled surprise and perplexity sits upon every countenance. Tlie disciples within the boat share
these sentiments equally with the people upon
the shore.
Nothing seems easier than to understand these
little stories of common life; but why has Jesus
told them? What from his lips can they mean?
What has the kingdom of heaven to do with
them? Teaching by parables was a comon way
of instruction with the Jewish Rabbis. But it
had not been in the first instance adopted by
Christ; they had not as yet heard a single parable from his lips; and now he uses nothing else
-parable follows parable, as if that were the
only instrument of the teacher that Jesus cared
to use. And besides the entire novelty of his
employment of the parabolic method, there is
that haze, that thick obscurity, which covers the
real meaning of the parables he utters. The
disciples take the first opportunity that offers
itself of speaking to him privately, and putting
to him the question: "Why speakest thou to




THE FIRST PARlABIS.        171
them in parables?" a question which they would
have never put but for the circumstance that
they had never before known him employ this
kind of discourse. Now mark the answer to
the question. " Because it is given unto you
to know the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven,
but to them it is not given. For whosoever
hath, to him shall be given, and he shall have
abundance; but whosoever hath not, from him
shall be taken away even that he hath. Therefore speak I to them in parables: because they
seeing see not, and hearing they hear not, neither do they understand. And in them is fulfilled the prophecy of Esaias, which saith, By
hearing ye shall hear, and shall not understand;
and seeing ye shall see, and shall not perceive;
for this people's heart is waxed gross; and their
ears are dull of hearing, and their eyes they
have closed; lest at any time they should see
with their eyes, and hear with their ears, and
slhould understand with their heart, and should
be converted, and I should heal them."*
It was partly then for the purpose of concealment that, upon this occasion, these parables
were spoken.  Those before whose eyes this
Mlatt. xiii. 1-15.




172        TmE FIRST PARABTIS.
veil was drawn had already been tried with a
different kind of speech. Most important truths
had been announced to them in the simplest
and plainest language, but they had shut their
minds and hearts against him. And now, as a
righteous judgment upon them for having acted
thus, these mysteries of the kingdom, which
might have been presented to them in another
and more transparent guise, are folded up in
the concealing drapery of these parables. Speaking generally, parables are meant to make things
plainer, not more obscure; and many of our
Lord's parables, such as those of the good Samaritan, the unjust judge, the Pharisee and the
publican, it is true that neither by those who
first heard them uttered, nor by any who have
read them since, has there been the slightest
doubt or uncertainty as to their meaning. But
there is another and a larger class of the parables of Christ to which this description does not
apply, which were not understood by those to
whom they were first addressed, which may
still be misunderstood, which, instead of being
homely tales illustrative of the simplest moral
and religious truths, the simplest moral and religious duties, are figurative descriptions, prophetic allegories, in which the true nature of




THE FIRST PARABLES.       173
Christ's spiritual kingdom, the manner of its establishment and extension, and all its after varied fortunes, are portrayed.  It was to this
class that the parables just spoken by our Saviour belonged. And there was mercy as well
as judgment in their employment. Behind
their concealing drapery bright lights were
burning, the very darkness thrown around intended to stimulate the eye to a keener, steadier gaze. As his disciples had dealt with the
instructions that had previously come from his
lips differently from those who seeing saw not,
hearing would not understand, so now Jesus
deals differently with them as to the parables.
They appear to have been at first as much in
the dark as to their meaning as was the general
audience on the shore. But they were willing,
even anxious, to be taught. When the cloud
came down on the teachings of their Master,
and the dark sayings were uttered, they longed
to enter into that cloud to gaze upon the light
which burned within. They came seeking, and
they found; knocking, and the door was opened
to them. To them it was given to know the
mysteries of the kingdom, but to the others, uncaring for it, unprepared for it, and unworthy
of it as they were, it was not given. By a pri



174         THE FIRST PARABLES.
vate and full explanation of the two first and
leading parables, those of the Sower, and the
Tares and the Wheat, Jesus put into his disciples' hands the key to all the eight parables
that he delivered; taught them to see therein
the first plantation of the Church-the field, the
world-the good seed, the Word of God; the
entrance and the allowed continued presence
of obstructions and opposition,-the silent and
secret growth of God's empire over human
hearts; the small enlarging into the great; its
pervasive transforming power; its preciousness,
whether found after diligent search, or coming
into the possessor's hands almost at unawares;
the end of all in the gathering out of that spiritual kingdom of the Lord of all that should offend.
What was true, locally and temporarily, of
the instructions of that single day, of that small
section of our Lord's teaching, is true of the
whole body of those disclosures of God made
to us in the Bible. There are things simple
and there are things obscure; things so plain
that he who runs may read; things so deep
that he only can understand who has within
nim some answering spiritual consciousness or
aspiration, out of which the true interpretation




TIE FIRST PARABLES.        175
springs. We must first compass the simple
if we would fathom the obscure. We must
receive into honest hearts and make good use
of the plainest declarations of the Divine Word,
if we would have that lamp kindled within us,
by whose light the more recondite of its sayings
can alone be understood. And if we refuse to
do so, if we will not follow the course here so
plainly marked out for us, if we turn our eyes
from that which they could see if they would,
if we stop our ears against that which they
could understand, if we follow not the heavenly
lights already given so far as they can carry
us, have we any right to complain if at last our
feet stumble upon the dark mountains, and we
look for light, and, behold, it is turned into
darkness? It is in an inner, remote sanctuary,
the true Shekinah, where the light of God's
gracious presence still shineth, to be approached
with a humble, tractable spirit, the prayer
upon our lips and in our heart, " What I know
not, Lord, teach thou me; I beseech thee show
me thy glory." It is not in the intellect, it is
in the conscience, in the heart, that the finest
and most powerful organs of spiritual vision lie.
There are seals that cover up many passages
and pages of the Bible, which no light or fire




176         THE FIRST PARABLES.
of genius can dissolve; there are hidden riches
here that no labor of mere learned research
can get at and spread forth. But those seals
melt like the snow-wreath beneath the warm
breathings of desire and prayer, and those
riches drop spontaneously into the bosom of
the humble and the contrite, the poor and the
needy.
Five parables appear to have been addressed
by Jesus to the multitude from the boat, their
delivery broken by the private explanation to
the disciples of the parable of the Sower.
Landing, and sending the multitude away,
Jesus entered into the house. There the disciples again applied to him, and he declared
unto them the parable of the Tares. Thereafter, the three shorter parables of the Treasure, the Pearl, and the Net were spoken to the
disciples by themselves. The long, laborious
day was now nearly over, and in the dwelling
which served to him as a home while in Capernaum, he might have sought and found repose.
Again, however, we see him by the lake-side;
again, under the pressure of the multitudes.
Seeking rest and seeing no bqpe of it for him
in Capernauni, Jesus said, "Let us pass over
unto the other side."  That other eastern side




THE STILTLING OF THE TEMPEST.   177
of the Lake of Galilee offered a singular conirast to the western one. Its wild and lonely
hills, thinly peopled by a race, the majority of
whom were Gentiles, were seldom visited by
the inhabitants of the plain of Gennesaret.
Now-a-days both sides of the lake are desert;
yet still there is but little intercourse between
them. Few travellers venture to traverse the
eastern shore; fewer venture far into the regions which lie behind, which are now occupied
wholly by an Arab population. As offering to
him in some one or other of the deep valleys
which cleave its hills and run down into the
sea, a shady and secure retreat for a day or
two from the bustle and fatigue of his life in
Galilee, Jesus proposes a passage across the
lake. All is soon ready; and they hurriedly
embark, taking Jesus in "even as he was,"
with no preparation for the voyage. It was,
however, but a short sail of six or eight miles.
Night falls on them by the way, and with the
night one of those terrible hurricanes by which
a lake which lies so low, and is bounded on all
sides by hills, is visited at times. The tempest
smote the waters, the waves ran high and
smote the little bark. She reeled and swayed,
and at each lurch took in more and more water




178    THEE STILLING OF TEE TEMPEST.
till she was nearly filled, and once filled, with
the next wave that rolls into her she must sink.
They were practised hands that navigated this
boat, who knew well the lake in all its moods;
not open to unreasonable fear, but now fear
comes upon them, and they are ready to give
up all hope. Where all this while is he at
whose bidding they had embarked? They had
been too busy for the time with the urgent
work required by the sudden squall, to think
of him; the mantle of the night's thick darkness may have hidden him from their view.
But now in their extremity they seek for
him, and find him " in the hinder part of the
ship, asleep on a pillow." Unbroken by all the
noise of winds and waves without, and all the
tumult of those toiling hands within, how quiet
and deep must that rest of the wearied one
have been! They have somc difficulty in
awaking him, and they do it somewhat roughly.
"Master! Master!" they cry to him, "save
us! We perish! Carest thou not that we
perish?" With a word of rebuke for their
great fear and little faith, Jesus rises, and
speaking to the boisterous elements as one
might speak to a boisterous child, he says to
the winds and the waves, "Peace, be still!"




TiE STILLING OF THE TEMPEST.    179
Nature owns at once the sovereignty of the
Lord. The winds cease their blowing-the
waves subside-instantly there is a great calm.
Those who had sought and roused the sleeping
Saviour fall back into their former places,
resume their former work; at the measured
stroke of their oars the little vessel glides
silently over the placid waters. All quiet now,
where but a few minutes before all was tumult;
few words are spoken during the rest of the
voyage, the rowers only whispering to each
other as they rowed: " What manner of man
is this, that even the winds and the waves obey
himn?"
Jesus lying this moment under the weakness of exhausted strength, rising the next in
all the might of manifested omnipotence: in
close proximity, in quick succession, the humanity and the divinity that were in him exhibited themselves. Though suddenly roused
to see himself in a position quite new to him,
and evidently of great peril, Jesus had no fear.
His first thought is not of the danger, his first
word is not to the tempest, his first care is not
for the safety of the body, it is for the state of
the spirit of those who wake him from his
slumbers; nor is it until he has rebuked their




180     THE STIIING OF THE TEMPEST.
fears that he removes the cause, but then he
does so, and does it effectually, by the word of
his power. And so long as the life we are living shall be thought and spoken of as a voyage, so long shall this night scene on the lake
of Galilee supply the imagery by which many
a passage in the history of the Church, and
many in the history of the individual believer,
shall be illustrated. Sleeping or waking, let
Christ be in the vessel and it is safe. The
tempest may come, our faith be small, our fear
be great, but still if in our fear we have so
much faith as to cry to him to save us, still
in the hour of our greatest need will he arise
to our help, and though he may have to blame
us for not cherishing a livelier trust and making an earlier application, he will not suffer the
winds or the waves to overwhelm us.
The storm is past, the night is over, the
morning dawns, the opposite coast of the Gadarenes is reached. Here, then, in these lonely
places there will be some rest for Jesus, some
secure repose?  Not yet, not instantly.  Soon
as he lands, immediately, from some neighboring place of graves* there comes forth a wild
* As to the locality in which the miracle was wrought see note
at the end of the volume.




THE STILLING OF THE TEMPEST.    181
and frenzied man, a man possessed by many
devils; for a long time so possessed, exceeding
fierce so that no man could tame him. They
had bound him with fetters and with chains;
the fetters he had plucked asunder, the chains
had been broken by him. Flying from the
haunts of men, flinging off all his garments, the
naked, howling maniac lies day and -night
among the tombs, crying and cutting himself
with stones; so fiercely assaulting all who approached him that no man might pass by that
way. From his lair among the graves the
devil-haunted madman rushes upon Jesus,
His neighbors had all fled terrified before him.
This stranger who has just landed flies not,
but tranquilly contemplates his approach. He
who had so lately brought the great calm
down into the bosom of the troubled lake, is
about now to infuse a greater calm into this
troubled spirit. The voice that an hour or two
before had said to the winds and the waves.
"Peace, be still," has already spoken, while
yet the poor demoniac is afar off, to the possessing devil that is within, and said, " Come
out of him, thou unclean spirit."  If underneath that dark and terrible tyranny of the
indwelling demons there still survived within




182      TEE DEMONIAC OF GADARA.
the man some spark of his native independence,
some glimmering consciousness of what he
once had been and might be again, were but
those usurpers of the spirit quieted; if something of the old man still were there, crouching, groaning, travailing beneath the intolerable pressure that drove him into madnesswhat a new and strange sensation must have
entered this region of his consciousness when
the devils which had been rioting within him,
claiming and using him as all their own,
heard that word of Jesus, and in their terror
began to cry out, as in the presence of one
their acknowledged Superior and Lordl
What a new light of hope must have come
into that wild and haggard eye as it gazed upon
that mysterious being, hailed by the devils as
the Son of the Most High God! His relief,
indeed, was not immediate; the devils did not
at once depart. There was a short and singular colloquy between Christ and them. They
beseech, they adjure him not to torment them
before the time, not to send them down at once
into the abyss, or if he were determined to
give liberty to their human captive, then not
to drive them from the neighborhood, which,
perhaps, was their only earthly allotted haunt,




THE DEMONIAC OF GADAR.      183
but to suffer them to enter into a neighboring
herd of swine. The permission was given.
They entered into the swine-how we know
not, operating upon them how and with what
intent we know not. All we have before us is
the fact, that the whole herd ran violently
down a steep place into the sea, and perished
in the waters. What became of the devils
then? As the dumb beasts went down into
the waters, did they go down into a darker,
deeper depth, to be kept there in chains and
darkness to the judgment of the great day.?
It is not said that the devils purposely
destroyed the swine. It no doubt was their entrance and the frenzy into which that entrance
drove the animals, that made them plunge headlong into the lake. But who shall tell us whether
in their reckless and intense love of mischief
the foul spirits did not here outwit themselves,
creating an impulse that they could not curb,
destroying the new habitation they had chosen,
and by their own inconsistent and suicidal acts
bringing down upon themselves the very fate
from which they had prayed to be delivered?
We know far too little of the world of spirits
to affirm or to deny here; far too little for us
either mockingly to reject the whole as an idle




184      TmE DFMONLAC OF GADAR.
tale, or presumingly to speculate as if the mys
teries of the great kingdom of darkness stood
revealed. It is true, indeed, that whatever
was the design or anticipation of the devils in
entering into the swine, the result must have
been known to Jesus. Knowing then, beforehand, how great the destruction here of property and animal life would be, why was the
permission given?  We shall answer that question when any man will tell us how many
swine one human spirit is worth-why devils
were permitted to enter anywhere or do any
mischief upon this earth-why such large and
successive losses of humnan and bestial life are
ever suffered, the agencies producing which are
as much under the control of the Creator as
these devils were under that of Christ. To
take up the one single instance in which you
can connect the loss of life, not directly with
the personal agency but evidently with the permission of the Saviour, and to take exception
to that, while the mystery of the large sufferance of sin.and misery in this world lies spread
out everywhere before and around us, is it not
unreasonable and unfair?  We do not deny
that there is a difficulty here. We are not
offering any explanation of this difficulty that




TEE DEMONIAC OF GADABA.     185
we consider to be satisfactory. We are only
pleading, first, that in such ignorance as ours
is, and with a thousand times greater difficulties everywhere besetting our faith in God,
this single difficulty should throw no impediment in the way of our faith in Jesus Christ.
The keepers of the herd, who had waited to
see the issue, went and told in the adjoining
village and in the country round about all that
had happened. At the tidings the whole population of the neighborhood came out to meet
Jesus. They found him, with the man who
had been possessed with devils, in the manner
they all knew so well, sitting at his feet-already clothed, in his right mind, all traces of
the possession, save the marks of the bonds and
of the fetters, gone. They were alarmed, annoyed, offended at what had happened. There
was a mystery about the man, who had such
power over the world of spirits, and used it in
such a way, that repelled rather than attracted
them. They might have thought and felt differently had they looked aright at their poor afflicted brother, upon whom such a happy change
had been wrought. But they thought more of
the swine that had perished than of the man
that had been saved; and they besought Jesus




186          THE DEMONIAC OF GADARA.
to depart out of their coasts. He did not need
to have the entreaty addressed to him a second
time; he complied at once-prepared immediately to re-embark, and we do not read that he
ever returned to that region again-they never
had another opportunity of seeing and hearing
him. Nor is it the habit of Jesus to press his
presence upon the unwilling. Still he has many
ways of coming into our coasts, and still have
we many ways of intimating to him our unwillingness that he should abide there. He knows
how to interpret the inward turning away of
our thoughts and heart from him-he knows
when the unspoken language of any human
spirit to him is-Depart; and if he went away
so readily when asked on earth, who shall assure us that he may not as readily take us at
our word, and when we wish it, —go, go it may
be, never to return?
Christ heard and at once complied with the
request of the Gadarenes. But there was another petition presented to him at the same
time, with which he did not comply. From
the moment that he had been healed, the demoniac had never left his side-never thought
of parting from him —never desired to return to
home,for friends, or kindred. A bond stronger




THE DExoNIAc OF GADAP.       187
than all others bound him to his deliverer.
When he saw Jesus make the movement to depart, he accompanied him to the shore; he went
with him to the boat. And as he fell there at
his feet, we can almost fancy him taking up
Ruth's words, and saying, "Entreat me not to
leave thee, or to return from following after
thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and
where thou lodgest, I will lodge; thy people
shall be my people, and thy God my God."
He is ready-he is anxious to forsake all and
follow Jesus, but he is not permitted.  " Go
home to thine own house and to thy friends,"
said Jesus to him, "and tell them how great
things the Lord hath done for thee, and hath
had compassion on thee."
It was to a heathen home-to friends that
knew little about the Lord, and cared little for
such knowledge, to whom he was to go. No
small trial to be torn thus from the Saviour's side, to go and reside daily among
those who had sent the Saviour away from
them. But he did it-did more even than he
was told to do; not in his own house alone,
nor among his own friends alone, but throughout the whole Gentile district of Decapolis he
published abroad the great things that Jesus




188     THE DEMONIAC OF GADABA.
had done for him. Better for the man himself
-too long accustomed to dwell alone, taking
a tincture of the solitary places in which he
dwelt into his own spirit, to mix thus freely
and widely with his fellow-men; and better
undoubtedly it was for those among whom he
lived-acting as the representative of him
whom in person they had rejected, but who
seem to have lent a more willing ear to the
man of their own district and kindred, for we
are told that as he spake of Jesus, "all men
did marvel," and some, let us hope, did believe.
Let one closing glance be given at the strange
picture which this passage in our Saviour's life
presents. It abounds in lights and shadows, in
striking contrasts- the meanest selfishness confronted with the purest, noblest love. Reckless
frenzy, abject terror, profound attention, devoted attachment, rapidly succeed each other in
him who, brought into closest union with the
highest and the lowest of the powers of the
spiritual world, presents to us a condensed epitome of the great conflict between good and
evil-between Christ and Satan-in the domain of the human spirit.  Undoubtedly it
stands the most remarkable instance of dispos



THE DEMONIAC OF GADARA.      189
session in the gospel narrative, revealing to us
at once the depth of that degradation to which
our poor humanity may sink, and the height
of that elevation to which, through the power
and infinite compassion of the Saviour, it may
be raised. Was it for the purpose of teaching
us more manifestly that Jesus came to destroy
the works of the devil, that in that age of His
appearance devils were permitted to exercise
strange dominion over men? Was it to bring
into visible and personal collision the heads of
the two opposite spiritual communities-the
Prince of Light and the Prince of Darknessand to make more visible to all men the supremacy of the one over the other? Was it that as
the Sun of Righteousness rose in one quarter of
the heavens, upon the opposite a cloud of unwonted blackness and darkness was allowed to
gather, that with all the greater brightness there
might shine forth the bow of promise for our
race? Whatever be the explanation, the fact
lies before us that demoniacal possessions did
then take place, and were not continued. But
though the spirits of evil are not allowed in that
particular manrrer to occupy and torment, and
degrade us, have they been withdrawn froml all
access to, and all influence over our souls? With




190      THE DEMONIAC OF GADARA.
so many hints given us in the Holy Scriptures
that we wrestle not with flesh and blood alone,
but with angels and principalities and powers
of darkness-that there are devices of Satan of
which it becomes us not to remain ignorant —
that the great adversary goeth about seeking
whom he may devour; with the command laid
upon us, Resist the devil and he will flee from
you; with the promise given, The Lord shall
bruise Satan under your feet shortly; are we
not warranted to believe, and should we not be
ever acting on the conviction, that our souls are
the sphere of an unseen conflict, in which rival
spirits are struggling for mastery? When some
light-winged fancy carries off the seed of the
word as it drops in our soul, may not that fancy
have come at Satan's call, and be doing Satan's
work? When the pleasures, and honors, and
riches of this world are invested with a false and
seductive splendor, and we are tempted to pursue them as our chief good, may he not have a
hand in our temptation who held out the kingdoms of this world and all the glory of them
before the Saviour's eye? But however it may
be with evil spirits, we know that evil passions
have their haunt and home within our hearts.
These, as a strong man armed, keep the house




THE DEMONc OF GGADSA.       191
till the stronger than they appears.  That
stronger one is Christ. To him let us bring our
souls; and if it please him to bid any unclean
spirit go forth, at his feet let us be sitting, and
may he make us willing, whatever our own desire might be, to go wherever he would have
us go, and do whatever he would have us do.




IX.
THE MISSION OF THE TWELVE.*
ESUS returned across the lake from Gadara
to resume his labors in Galilee. The circuit through its southern towns and villages on
which he now embarked was the last he was to
make. He looked on the multitudes that
gathered round him with a singular compassion.
Spiritually to his eye they were as sheep scattered abroad, who when he left them would be
without a shepherd.  "The harvest," said he
to his disciples, " truly is plenteous, but the laborers are few. Pray ye therefore the Lord
of the harvest, that he will send forth laborers
unto his harvest." But was he not himself the
Lord of the harvest, and had he no laborers to
send forth?
Laborers sufficiently numerous, sufficiently
Matt. ix. 35-38; x.; Mark vi. 7-30; Luke ix. 1-9.




TEE MISSION OF THE TWELVE.    193
trained, there were not; but there were those
twelve men whom he had chosen, who had for
many months been continually by his side. He
can send them; not permanently, for as yet
they were comparatively unqualified for the
work. Besides, to separate them finally from
himself would be to disqualify them for the
office which they afterwards were to exer*cise, of being the reporters of his chief sayings, the witnesses of all the leading actions of
his life. But he can send them on a brief
preliminary experimental tour, one happy
effect of which would be, that the townsmen
and villagers of Galilee shall have one more
opportunity afforded them of hearing the gospel of the kingdom announced. The hitherto
close companionship of the twelve with Jesus
may have presented to Jewish eyes nothing so
extraordinary as to attract much notice and
remark. Their great teachers had their favorite pupils, whom they kept continually beside
them, and whose services of kindness to them
they gratefully received and acknowledged. It
was something new, indeed, to see a teacher
acting as Jesus did-setting up no school in
in any one separate locality, confining himself
to no one place and to no set times or methods;




194     THE MISSION OF THE TWELVE.
discoursing about the kingdom, week-day and
Sabbath-day alike, publicly in the synagogue,
privately at the supper-table, on roadside and
lakeside, from the bow of the boat and the
brow of the mountain. And always close to
him these twelve men are seen who had forsaken their former occupations, and had now
attached themselves permanently to his person,
ministering to his comfort, imbibing his instructions, forming an innermost circle of discipleship, within which Jesus was often seen to
retire, and to which the mysteries of the kingdom were revealed as there was ability to receive them.
But now a still more singular spectacle is
presented. Jesus takes the twelve, and dividing them into pairs, sends them away from him
two and two; delivering to them, as he sends
them forth, the address contained in the tenth
chapter of the Gospel of St. Matthew. A few
minute instructions were first given as to the
special missionary tour on which they were
despatched. It was to be confined strictly to
Galilee —to the narrow district that they had
already frequently traversed in their Master's
company. But he personally was not to be
the burden of their message. They were not




THE MISSION OF THE TWELVE.   195
to announce his advent as the Messiah. He
had not done so himself, and their preaching
was not to go beyond his own. They were
simply to proclaim the advent of the kingdom,
leaving the works and words of Jesus to point
out the place in that kingdom which he occupied. The power of working miracles they
were for the time to enjoy, but they were not
to use it, as they might easily have done, for
any selfish or mercenary purpose. As freely
as they got, they were to give. They were
to be absent but a few days. They were going,
not among strangers or enelnies, but among
friends and brethren. The more easily and
expeditiously they got through their work the
better. Unprovided and unencumbered, they
were to cast themselves at once upon the hospitality of those they visited. "Nor was there
in this," says Dr. Thomson, " any. departure
from the simple manners of the country. At
this day the farmer sets out on excursions
quite as extensive without a para in his purse,
and the modern Moslem prophet of Tarshiha
thus sends forth his apostles over this identical
region. Neither do they encumber themselves
with two coats. They are accustomed to sleep
in the garments they wear during the day;




196       THE MISSION OF THE TWELVE.
and in this climate such plain people experience therefrom  no inconvenience.  They wear
coarse shoes, answering to the sandal of the
ancients, but never carry two pairs; and,
although the staff is the invariable companion
of all wayfarers, they are content with one."*
The directions given to the Apostles were
proper to a short and hasty journey, such as
the one now before them. On entering any
town or village, their first inquiry was to be
for the susceptible, the well-disposed, about
whom, after the excitement consequent upon
Christ's former visits, some information might
easily be obtained. They were to salute the
house in which such resided, to enter it, and,
if well received, were to remain in it, not
going from house to house, wasting their
time in multiplied or prolonged formalities and
salutations by the way.  Wherever rejected,
they were to shake off the dust of their feet
against that house or city; and to create a
profound impression of the importance of the
errand on which they were despatched, Jesus
closes the first part of his address to them by
* The Land and the Book, p. 346. In St. Matthew's Gospel it
is said they were not to take staves; in Mark, that they were to
take one, i. e., one only.




THE MISSION OF THE TWELVE.     197
saying, "Verily I say unto you, It shall be
more tolerable for the land of Sodom and
Gomorrall, in the day of judgment than for
that city."
Hitherto, all that he had said had direct
reference to the short and rapid journey that
lay immediately before them. But limited as
it was, the task now committed to them carried
in it the germ, the type, of that larger apostolic work for which, by the gift of the Spirit,
they were to be qualified, and in which, for so
many years after their Master's death, they
were to be engaged. And so, after speaking
of the one, Jesus passes on to the other, the
nearer and narrower mission sinking out of
sight as his eye rests on the further and
broader mission that lay before them. In the
one, the nearer, there was to be no opposition
or persecution; in the other, a fiery trial was
in store for the faithful. The one, the nearer,
was to be confined to the lost sheep of the
house of Israel; in the other, they were to come
into collision with the kings and governors of
the Gentiles. It.is of this second period —of
the persecution on the one hand, and the gifts
of the qualifying Spirit on the other, by which
it should be distinguished-that Jesus speaks




198      THE MISSION OF THE TWELVE.
in the passage embraced in the verses from the
16th to the 23d. The second division of the
address closes, as the first does, by a "Verily I
say unto you."  The fact thus solemnly affirmed pointing, in the destruction of Jerusalem, to the close of that period over which
Christ's prophetic eye was now ranging. Verily I say unto you, Ye shall not have gone
over the cities of Israel, till the Son of Man be
come."
But now the whole earthly mission of the
twelve presents itself to the Saviour's eye but
as the preface and prelude to that continuous
abiding work of witnessing for him  upon this
earth to which each separate disciple of the
cross is called. Dropping, therefore, all directions and allusions referring exclusively to the
Apostles and to apostolic times, Jesus, in the
closing and larger portion of the address, from
the 24th to the 42d verse, speaks generally of
all true discipleship to himself upon this earth:
foretelling its fortunes, describing its character,
its duties, its encouragements, and its rewards.
Jesus would hold out no false hopes-would
have no one become his upon any false expectations  Misconception, misrepresentation, illtreatment of one kind or other, his true and




THE  IISSION OF THE TWELVE.   199
faithful followers must be prepared to meet —
to meet without surprise, without complaint,
without resentment. The disciple need not
hope to be above his Master, the servant above
his Lord. " If they have called the master of
the house Beelzebub, how much more them of
his household?" But why should the covert
slander, the calumny whispered in secret, be
dreaded, when the day was coming when all
that is covered shall be revealed, all that is hid
shall be made known? With his disciples
there should be no concealment of any kind.
He came to found no secret society, linked
by hidden bonds, depository of inner mysteries.
True, there were things that he addressed
alone to the Apostles' ear in private, but the
secrecy and reserve so practised by him was
meant to be temporary, to be transient.
" What I tell you thus in darkness, that speak
ye in the light:. and what ye hear in the ear,
that preach ye upon the housetops." The doing so may imperil life, the life of the body:
but what of that? " Fear not them which kill
the body, but are not able to kill the soul:
but rather fear him which is able to destroy
both soul and body in hell." But even the life
of the body shall be watched over, not suffered




200     THE MISSION OF THE TWELVE.
needlessly to perish. Not a single sparrow,
though worth but half a farthing, falls to the
ground without God's knowledge, not a hair
of your head but is numbered by him. "Fear
ye not, therefore; ye are of more value than
many sparrows." The head whose very hairs
are numbered by him, your Father will not
see lightly or uselessly cut off. Leave your
fate then in his hands, and whatever that may
be, be open, be honest, be full, be fearless in
the testimony ye bear, for "Whosoever shall
confess me before men, him I will confess before my Father which is in heaven. But whosoever shall deny me before men, him will I
deny before my Father which is in heaven."
Times of outward persecution may not last,
but think not that on this earth there shall
ever be perfect peace. "I came not to send
peace, but a sword," a sword which, though
it drop out of the open hand of. the persecutor,
shall not want other hands to take it up and
wield it differently. "I am come to set a man
at variance against his father, and the daughter against her mother, and the daughter-inlaw against her mother-in-law, and a man's
foes shall be they of his own household."
And to no severer trial shall my followers be




THE MISSION OF THE THwErve.   201
subject, than when it is not force but affection,
the affection of the nearest and dearest on
earth, that would draw them away from me,
or tempt them to be unfaithful to my cause.
But above all other claims is the one I make
on the love of all who choose me as their Saviour and their Lord. I must be first in their
affections: the throne of their heart must be
mine; no rival permitted to sit by my side. It
is not that I am selfishly exactive of affection;
it is not that I am jealous of other love: it is
not that I wish or ask that you should love
others less in order to love me more: but it is,
that what I am to you, what I have done for
you, what from this time forth and forevermore
I am prepared to be to and to do for you, gives
me such a priority and precedence in the claim
I make, " that he that loveth father and mother
more than me is not worthy of me, and he that
loveth son or daughter more than me is not
worthy of me." A bitter thing it may be to
crucify some inordinate earthly desire or affection in order to give me, or to keep me in, that
place of supremacy which is the only one I possibly or consistently can occupy. But he that
taketh not up the cross for me, even as I have
taken up the cross for him; he that will not




202      THE MISSION OF THE TWELVE.
deny himself, and in the exercise of that selfdenial take up his cross daily and follow me;
" he is not worthy of me, he cannot be my disciple." For this is one of the fixed unalterable
conditions of that spiritual economy under which
you and all men live, that he who maketh the
pursuits and the pleasures of the present scene
of things the aim of his being; he who by any
manner or form of self-gratification seeks to
gain his life shall lose it, shall fail at the last
even in the very thing upon which he has set
his heart. Whereas he who for my sake shall
give himself to the mortifying of every evil affection of his nature, to the crucifying of the
flesh with the affections and lusts thereof, he
shall find the life he seems to lose;-out of the
death of the lower shall spring the higher, the
eternal life of the spirit. And let all of every
degree, whether they be Apostles or Prophets,
or simple disciples, or the least of these my little ones, be animated, be elevated throughout
that strife with self and sin, the world and the
devil, to which in Christ they are called, by remembering what a dignified position they occupy, whose representatives they are. " He that
receiveth you receiveth me: he that receiveth
me receiveth him that sent me." And if it be




THE MIssiON OF THE TWELVE.   205
in the name or the character of a prophet that
any one receives you, he, the receiver, shall
have a prophet's reward; or if in the name simply of a righteous man that any one receive
you, he, the receiver, shall have a righteous
man's reward; nay, more, if it be to any of the
least of my little ones that a cup only of cold
water be given in the nane of a disciple, he, the
giver, shall in no wise lose his reward. For so
it is, and ever shall be, not simply by great men
going out upon great embassies and speaking
words of power to gathered multitudes, or by
great assemblies propounding or enforcing great
and solemn truths, that the kingdom of Jesus
Christ is advanced, but by all, the high and low,
and rich and poor, and weak and strong, who
bear his name, looking upon themselves as his
missionaries here on earth, sent by him even as
he was sent by his Father; sent, that they may
be to one another what he has been to them,
seeking each other's good, willing to communicate, giving and in giving receiving, receiving
and in receiving imparting, each doing a little
in one way or other to commend to others that
Saviour in whom is all his trust, these littles
making up that vast and ever multiplying agency by which the empire of the Redeemer




204     THE MISSION OF THE TWELVE.
over hui-nat spirits is being continually en
larged.
Can any one read over and even partially
enter into the meaning of those words which
Jesus spake to his Apostles when sending them
for the first time from his side-a season when
there was so little material out of which any
rational conjecture could be formed as to his
future or theirs, or the future of any school or
sect, or institution that He and they might
found,-and not be convinced that open as day
lay all that future to him who here, as elsewhere in so many of his most important discourses, sets forth in a series of perspectivesmixing with and melting into each other-the
whole history of his Church in all its trials and
conflicts from the beginning even to the end?
But a greater than a Prophet is here-one
who speaks of men being hated, persecuted,
scourged, and put to death for his name's sake,
as if there were nothing in any wise unreasonable or unnatural in it; one who would have
all men come to him, and who asks of all who
come, love, obedience, and sacrifice, such as
but one Being has a right to ask, even he who
has redeemed us to God by his blood, whose
right over all we are and have and can do




TEE MISSION OF THE TWELVE.    205
is supreme, unchallengeable, unchangeable 
whose, by every tie, we are, and whom, by the
mightiest of obligations, we are bound to love
and serve.
The sight must have been a very extraordinary one, of the Apostles setting off two by
two from their Master's side, passing with such
eagerness and haste through the towns and
villages, preaching and working miracles. To
hear one man preach as Jesus did, to see one
man confirm his word by doing such wonderful works, filled the whole community with
wonder. To what a higher pitch must that
wonder have been raised when they saw others
commissioned by him, endowed by him, not
only preaching as he did, but healing, too, all
manner of disease! True, the circle was a
small one to whom such special powers were
delegated; but half a year or so afterwards,
as if to teach that it was not to the twelve
alone-to those holding the high office of the
apostolate-that Jesus was prepared to grant
such a commission, he sent out a band of seventy men, embracing, we are inclined to believe, almost the entire body of his professed
disciples in the north who were of the age and
had the strength to execute such a task; ad



206       THE MISSION OF THE IWELVE
dressing them in almost the same terms, imposing on them the same duties, and clothing
them with the same prerogatives, clearly manifesting by his employment of so large a number of his ordinary disciples that it was not his
purpose that the dissemination of the knowledge of his name should be confined to any one
small and peculiarly endowed body of men.
It appears from the statement of St. Matthew that when Jesus had made an end of
commanding his twelve disciples, he departed
thence to teach and to preach in their cities,
continuing thus his own personal labors in the
absence of the twelve. How long they remained
apart, in the absence of all definite notes of time,
can only be a matter of conjecture. A few days
would carry the apostles over all the ground
they had to traverse, and they would not loiter
by the way. Ere very long they were all
united once more at Capernaum. Tidings met
them there of a very sad event which had just
occurred, we know not exactly where, but if
Josephus is to be trusted, it was in the remotest region of that district over which Herod
Antipas ruled. It is very singular that though
Herod governed Galilee, and built and generally resided at Tiberias, a town upon the lake



THE MISSION OF THE TwmvEw.    207
side a few miles south of the plain of Gennesa.
ret, he had never met with Jesus; had done
nothing to interrupt his labors, though these
were making so great a sensation all over the
country; had never, apparently, till about this
time even heard of him or of his works.
It has not unreasonably been conjectured
that soon after throwing John the Baptist into
prison he had been absent on one of his journeys to Rome during those very months in which
our Lord's Galilean ministry was most openly
and actively conducted. Even, however, had
this not been the case-as we never read of
Jesus visiting Tiberias-we can readily enough
imagine that Herod might have been living
there all the time, too much engaged with other
things to heed much what, if at all spoken of
in his presence, would be spoken of contemptuously as a new Jewish religious ferment that
was spreading among the people. The public
tranquillity was not threatened; and, that preserved, they might have as many such religious
excitements among them as they liked. Though
fully cognizant of the nature and progress of the
nature and progress of the Baptist's ministry,
he had done nothing to stop it. It was not on
any public or political grounds, but purely and




208            MINISTRY OF
solely on a personal one, that he had cast John
into prison. At first he had listened to him
gladly, and done many things at his bid.ding,
but the Baptist had been bold enough to tell
him that it was not lawful for him to have his
brother's wife, and brave enough at all hazards
to keep by what he said. He would neither
modify nor retract. Herod's anger was kindled
against him, and was well nursed and kept
warm by Herodias.  She would have made
short work with the impudent intermeddler.
But Herod feared the people, and so contented
himself with casting him into that prison in
which he lay so many long and weary months.
While lying there alone and inactive, he had
sent, as we have seen, two of his disciples to
Jesus to ask him, "Art thou he that should
come, or look we for another?" It was after
all but an indirect and ambiguous reply that
they had brought back-enough, and more than
enough, to meet any transient doubt as to
Christ's character and office which in any quarter might have arisen, but carrying with it no
reference to the Baptist's personal estate-embodying no message of sympathy-holding out
no prospect of relief. All that was left to John
was to cling to the hope that his long impris



JOHN THE BAPTIST.        209
onment must be near its end. Herod might
relent, or Jesus might interpose-somehow or
other the deliverance would come. And it did
come at last, but not as John had looked for it.
It came in the form of that grim executioner,
who, breaking in upon his solitude, and flashin'g before his eyes the instrument of death,
bade him bow his head at once to the fatal
stroke. Short warning this: was no explanation to be given? no interview with Herod allowed? not a day nor an hour for preparation
given? No. The king's order was for instant
execution.  The damsel was waiting for the
head, and the mother waiting for the damsel.
How did the Baptist bear himself at that trying
moment?  There were no crowds to witness
this martyr's death; not one there to tell us
afterwards how he looked, or what he said.
Alone, he had to gird his spirit up to meet his
doom. A moment or two, spent we know not
how, and the death-blow fell.
It is said that when death comes suddenly
upon a man, —when, this moment in full possession of his faculties, he knows that next moment is to be his last-within that moment
there flashes often upon the memory the whole
scenery of a bygone life. If such a vision of




210            MINISTRY OF
the past rose up before the Baptist's eye, wrhat
a strange mysterious thing might that life of
his on earth have seemed,-how like a failure,
how seemingly abortive! Thirty long years of
preparation; then a brief and wonderful success, brimful of promise; that success suddenly
arrested; all means and opportunities of active
service plucked out of his hand. Then the idle
months in prison, and then the felon's death!
Mysterious, inexplicable as such a life might
look to the eye of sense, how looked it to the
eye of God? Many flattering things have been
said of men when they were living; many false
and fulsome epitaphs have been graven on their
tombs; but the lips that never flattered have
said of John, that of those that have been born
of women there hath not arisen a greater; his
greatness mainly due to his peculiar connexiol,
with Christ, but not unsupported by his personal character, for he is one of the few prominent figures in the sacred page upon which not
a single stain is seen to rest. And though
they buried him in some obscure grave to
which none went on pilgrimage, yet for'that
tomb the pen that never traced a line of falsehood has written the brief but pregnant epi
taph: "John fulfilled his course." Terminat



JOHN THE BPTIT.          211
ing so abruptly at such an early stage, with
large capacity for work, and plenty of work to
do, shall we not say of this man that his life
was unseasonably and prematurely cut off?
No; his earthly task was done: he had a certain work assigned him here, and it was finished.
Nor could a higher eulogium have been pronounced over his grave than this, that he had
fulfilled the course assigned to him by Providence. Let the testimony thus borne to him
convince us that there is a special and narrow
sphere which God has marked out for each of
us on earth. To be wise to know what that
sphere is, to accept it and keep to it, and
be content with it —diligently, perseveringly,
thankfully, submissively to do its work and
bear its burdens, is one of our first duties-a
duty which in its discharge will minister one of
our simplest and purest joys.
The bloody head was grasped by the executioner and carried into the king's presence, and
given to the damsel; and she carried it to her
mother. The sense of sated vengeance may for
the moment have filled the heart of Herodias
with a grim and devilish joy; but those pale
lips-those fixed and glazed eyes-that livid
countenance upon whose rigid features the shadow of its living sternness is still resting, she can



212    MINISTRY OF JOHN THE BAPTIST.
not look long at them; she waves the ghastly
object from her sight, to be borne away, and
laid we know not where.
The headless body had been left upon the
prison floor. So soon as they hear of what has
happened, some of John's disciples come and
lift it up and bear it out sadly to burial; and
that last office done, in their desolation and
helplessness they followed the instinct of that
new faith which their Master's teaching had inspired —they went and told Jesus. They did
what in all our sorrows we should do: they
went and told him who can most fully sympathize, and who alone can thoroughly and abid.
ingly comfort and sustain.




X.
THE FEEDING OF THE FIVE THOUSAND, AND
THE WALKING UPON THE WATER.*
H    EROD first heard of Jesus immediately
after the Baptist's death. While some
said that this Jesus now so much spoken of
was Elias, or one of the Prophets, there were
others about the Tetrarch who suggested that
he was John risen from the dead. Herod had
little real faith, but that did not prevent his
lying open enough to superstitious fancies.
He was ill at ease about what he had done on
his birthday feast-haunted by fears that he
could not shake off. The suggestion about
Jesus fell in with these fears, and helped in
a way to soothe them. And so, after some
perplexity and doubt, at last he adopted it, and
proclaimed it to be his own conviction, saying
* Matt. xiv. 13-33; Mark vi. 30-52; Luke ix. 10-17; John vi.
1-21.




214          THE FEEDING OF
to his servants, as if with a somewhat lightened conscience, "This is John, whom I beheaded: he is risen from the dead: and, therefore, mighty works do show forth themselves
in him"-John had done no mighty works so
long as Herod knew him, but now, in this
new estate, he had risen to a higher level, to
which he, Herod, had helped to elevate himhe would like to see him in the new garb.
The disciples of John, who caime and told
Jesus of their master's death, had to tell him
also of the strange credulity and curiosity of
Herod. We are left to imagine the impression
their report created. It came at the very time
when the twelve had returned from their short
and separate excursions, and when, as the fruit
of the divided and multiplied agency that had
been exerted, so many were coming and going
out and in among the re-assembled band, that
"they had no leisure," we are told, " so much
as to eat."* For himself and for them, Jesus
desired now a little quiet and seclusion. For
himself-that he might ponder over a death
prophetic of his own, the occurrence of which
imade, as we shall see, an epoch in his ministry.
* Mark vi. 21.




THE FrvE THOUSAND.       215
For them-that they might have some respite
from accumulated fatigue and toil. His own
purpose fixed, he invited them to join him in
its execution, saying to them, " Come ye yourselves into a desert place and rest a while."
Such a desert place as would afford the seclusion that they sought, they had not to go far
to find. Over against Capernaum, across the
lake, in the district running up northward to
Bethsaida, are plenty of lonely enough places
to choose among. They take boat to row
across. The wind blows fresh trom the northwest; for shelter, they hug the shore. Their
departure had been watched by the crowd, and
now, when they see how close to the land they
keep, and how slow the progress is they make,
a great multitude out of all the cities-embracing, in all likelihood, many of those companies
which had gathered to go up to the Passover
-run on foot along the shore. A less than
two hours' walk carries them to Bethsaida, at
the northern extremity of the lake. There
they cross the Jordan, and enter upon that
large and uninhabited plain that slopes down
to the lake, on its northeastern shores. Another hour or so carries them to the spot at
which Christ and his apostles land, where




216         THE FEEDING OF
many, having outstripped the boat, are ready
to receive them, and where more and more
still come, bearing their sick along with them.
It was somewhat of a trial to have the purpose
of the voyage apparently thus baffled, the seclusion sought after thus violated; but if felt
at all, it sat light upon a heart which, turning
away from the thought of self, was filled with
compassion for those who were " as sheep not
having a shepherd." Retiring to a neighboring mountain, Jesus sits down and teaches, and
heals; and so the hours of the afternoon pass
by.
But now another kind of solicitude seizes on
the disciples. They may not have been as
patient of the defeat of their Master's purpose
as he was himself. They may have grudged
to see the hours that he had destined to repose
broken in upon and so fully occupied. True,
they had little to do themselves but listen, and
wait, and watch. The crowd grew, however;
stream followed stream, and poured itself out
upon the mountain side. The day declined;
the evening shadows lengthened; yet, as if
never satisfied, that vast company still clung to
Jesus, and made no movement to depart. The
disciples grew anxious. They came at last to




THE FIVE THOUSAND.       217
Jesus, and said, "This is a desert place, and
the time is now past: send the multitude away,
that they may go into the country round about,
and into the villages, and lodge, and buy
bread for themselves, for they have nothing to
eat."  "They need not depart," said Jesus;
" give you to them to eat. " Turning to Philip,
a native of Bethsaida, one well acquainted with
the adjoining district, Jesus saith in an inquiring
tone, " Whence shall we buy bread, that these
may eat?" Philip runs his eye over the great
assemblage, and making a rough estimate of
what would be required, he answered, "Two
hundred pennyworth of bread would not be
sufficient for them, that every one might'get a
little;' shall we go and buy as much?"  Jesus
asked how much food they had among themselves, without needing to go and make any
further purchase. Andrew, another native of
Bethsaida, who had been scrutinizing the crowd,
discovering some old acquaintances, said,
"There is a lad here, who has five barley loaves
and two small fishes; but what are they among
so many?" " Bring them to me," said Jesus.
They brought therm. "Make the men," he
said, "sit down by fifties in a company "-an
order indicative of our Lord's design that there




218         TEzE F'EDnG oi
might be no confusion, and that the attention
of all might be directed to what he was about
to do. The season was favorable-it was the
full spring-tide of the year; the place was convenient-much green grass covering the broad
and gentle slope that stretched away from the
base of the mountain. The marshalling of five
thousand men, besides women and children,
into such an orderly array, must have taken
some time. The people, however, quietly consented to be so arranged, and company after
company sat down, till the whole were seated
in the presence of the Lord, who all the while
has stood in silence watching the operation,
with that scanty stock of provisions in his hand.
All eyes are now upon him. He begins to
speak; he prays; he blesses the five loaves
and the two fishes, breaks them, divides them
among the twelve, and directs them to go and
distribute them among the others.
And now, among those thousands-sitting
there and ranged so that all can see what is
going on —the mystery of their feeding begins
to show itself. There were one hundred companies of fifty, besides the women and children.
In each Apostle's hand, as he takes his portion
from the hand of Jesus, there is not more than




TiE FiVEI THOUSAND.       219
would meet one man's need. Yet, as the distribution by the twelve begins, there is enough
to give what looks like a sufficient portion to
each of the hundred men who sits at the head
of his company. He gets it, and little enough
as it seems for himself; he is told to divide it,
and give the half of it to his neighbor, to be
dealt with in like fashion. Each man in the
ranks, as he begins to break, finds that the half
that he got at first grows into a whole in the
very act of dividing and bestowing; the small
initial supply grows and multiplies in the transmission from hand to hand, All eat-all are
satisfied. " Gather up," said Jesus, as he saw
some unused food lying scattered upon the
ground, " the fragments that remain, that nothing be lost." They do; and while one basket
could hold the five loaves and the two fishes, it
now takes twelve to hold these fragments.
Of the nature and purpose of this great miracle, we shall have something to say hereafter.
Meanwhile, let us notice its immediate effect.
One of its singularities, as compared with other
miracles of our Lord, was this: that such a vast
multitude were all at once not only spectators
of it, but participators of its benefits. Seven
or eight thousand hungry men, women, and




220         THE FEEDNTG OF
children sit down upon a hillside, and there bet
fore their eyes, for an hour or two —full leisure
given them  to contemplate and reflect-the
spectacle goes on, of a few loaves and fishes,
under Christ's blessing, and by some mysterious ac~ting of his great power, expanding in
their hands till they are all more than satisfied.
Each sees the wonder, and shares in the result.
It is not like a miracle, however great, wrought
instal tly upon a single man. Such a miracle
the same number of men, women, and children
might see, indeed, but could not all see as each
saw this. The impression here of a very marvellous exhibition of the Divine power, so near
akin to that of creative energy, was one so
broadly, so evenly, so slowly, and so deeply
made, that it looks to us just what we might
have expected when the thousands rise from
their seats, when all is over, and say one to
another, what they had never got the length of
saying previously, " This is of a truth that Prcphet that should come into the world." No
longer any doubt or vagueness in their faithno longer a question with them which prophet
or what kind of prophet he was. He is none
other than their Messiah, their Prince.  He
who can do that which they have just seen him




THE FIVE THOUSAND.       221
do, what could be beyond his power? He may
not himself be willing to come forward, assert
his right, exert his power-but they will do it
for him-they will do it now; they will take
him at once, and force him to be their king.
Jesus sees the incipient action of that leavenwhich, if allowed to work, would lead on to
some act of violence. He sees that the leaven
of earthliness and mere Jewish pride and ambition has entered even among the twelve, who,
as they see and hear what is going on, appear
not.unwilling to take part with the multitude.
It is time for him to interfere and prevent any
such catastrophe. He calls the twelve to him,
and directs them to embark immediately, to
go alone and leave him there, to row back to
Capernaum, where, in the course of the night
or the next morning he might join them. A
strange and unwelcome proposal-for why
should they be parted, and where was their
Master to go, or what was he to do, in the long
hours of that lowering night that was coming
down in darkness and storm upon tile hills
and lake? They remonstrate; but with a
peremptoriness and decision, the very rarity of
which gave it all the greater power, he overrules their remonstrances, and constrains them




222            TiE WATLKNG
to get into the boat and leave him behind.
Turning to the multitude, whose plot about
taking and making him a king, taken up by his
twelve chief followers, this transaction had interrupted, he dismisses them in such a way,
with such words of power, that they at once
disperse.
And now he is alone. Alone he goes up into a mountain-alone he prays there.  The
darkness deepens; the tempest rises; midnight
comes with its gusts and gloom. There —somewhere on that mountain, sheltered or exposed
— there, for five or six hours, till the fourth
watch of the night, till after dawn —Jesus holds
his secret and close fellowship with Heaven.
Into the privacies of those secluded? hours of
his devotion we presume not to intrude. But
if, as we shall presently see was actually the
case, this threatened outbreak of a blinded popular impulse in his favor-the attempt thus
made, and for the moment thwarted, to take
him by force and make him a king-created a
marked crisis in the history of our Lord's dealings with the multitudes, as well as of their
disposition and conduct towards him,-this
night of lonely prayer is to be put alongside of
the other instances in which, upon important




UPON THE WATER.         223
emergencies, our Saviour had recourse to privacy and prayer, teaching us, by his great example, where our refuge and our strength in all
like circumstances are to be found.
Meanwhile it has fared ill with the disciples
on the lake. Two or three hours' hearty labor
at the oar might have carried them over to Capernaum.  But the adverse tempest is too
strong for them. The whole night long they
toil among the waves, against the wind. The
day had dawned, a dim light from the east was
spreading over the water; they had rowed
about'five-and-twenty or thirty furlongs-were
rather more than half-way across the lakewhen, treading on the troubled waves, as on a
level, solid pavement, a figure is seen approaching, drawing nearer and nearer to the
boat. Their toil is changed to terror-the vigorous hand relaxes its grasp-the oars.stand
still in the air or are but feebly plied-the boat
rocks heavily-a cry of terror comes from the
frightened crew-they think, it is a spirit. He
made as though. he would have passed them by
— they cry out the more. For though so like
their Master as they now see the form to be, yet
if he go past them in silence, it cannot be other
than his ghost But now he turns, and, dispel



224            THE WALTrNG
ling at once all doubt and fear, he says, "Be of
good cheer; it is I,-be not afraid."  He is
but a few yards from the boat, when, leaping
at once-as was no strange thing with himfrom one extreme to the other, Peter says,
"Lord, if it be thou"-or' rather, for we cannot think that he had any doubt as to Christ's
identity-" Since it is thou, let me come unto
thee on the water." Why not wait till Jesus
comes into  the boat?  Because he is so
pleased, so proud to see his Master tread with
such victorious footstep the restless devouring
deep; because he wants to share the triumph
of the deed-to walk side by side, before his
brothers, with Jesus, though it be but a step
or two.
He gets the permission-he makes the attempt —is at first successful. So long as -he
keeps his eye on Jesus-so long as that faith
which prompted the proposal, that sense of dependence in which the first step out of the boat
and down upon the deep was taken, remain unshaken-all goes well. But.he has scarce
moved off from the boat when he looks away
from Christ, and out over the tempestuous sea
The wind is not more boisterous-the waves are
not higher or rougher than they were the mo.




UPON THE WATER.         225
ment before-but he was not thinking of them
then. He was looking at-he was thinking of
-he was hanging upon-his Master then.
Now he looks at-thinks only of-wind and
wave. His faith begins to fail-fearing, he begins to sink —sinking, he fixes his eye afresh
and most earnestly on Jesus. The eye, affecting the heart, rekindling faith in the very bosom
of despair, he cries out, "Lord, save me." It
was the cry of weakness-of wild alarm, yet it
had in it one grain of gold. It was a cry to
Jesus as to the only one that now could help
-- some true faith mingling now with all the
fear.
The help so sought for came at once. "Immediately Jesus stretched forth his hand and
caught him, and said unto him, 0 thou of little
faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?" At the
grasp of that helping hand-at the rebuke of
that chiding voice, let us believe that faith
came back into Peter's breast, and that not
borne up or dragged through the waters, but,
walking by his Master's side, he made his way
back to the little vessel where his comrades
were, to take his place among them a wiser
and humbler man. As soon as Jesus and he
had entered the vessel, we are told that the




226            TH-E WALKNG
wind not only ceased, but that " immediately
the ship was at the land wither they went."
Of those who were in the ship that night some
were exceedingly, but stupidly amazed, their
hearts hardened-untouched by the multiplied
miracles* of the last twelve hours,-others
came and worshipped Jesus, saying "Of a
truth thou art the Son of God "-one of the
first instances in which this great title, of which
we shall have so much to say hereafter, was
applied' to him.
We may divide the miracles of our Saviour
into  two classes:-1. Those wrought in or
upon nature. 2. Those wrought in or upon
man. Of the thirty-three miracles, of which
some detailed account is given us in the Gospels,
nine belong to the former and twenty-four to
the latter class. But this gives no true idea of
the mere numerical ratio of the one kind of
miracles to the other. It is but a very few of
the many thousand cases of healing on the part
of Jesus, of which any record has been preserved; whilst it seems probable that all the
instances have been recounted in which there
was any intervention with the laws or processes
* Mark vi. 51, 52.




UPON THE WATER.          227
of the material universe. It is remarkable at
least, that of the small number of this class a
repetition of the same miracle is twice recorded
— that of the multiplying of bread, and of an
extraordinary  draught of fishes.  Looking
broadly at these two classes of miracles, it
might appear like a discriminating difference between them-that the one, the miracles on
nature, were more works of power, the miracles on man more works of love. And admitting for the moment the existence of some
ground for this distinction, it pleases us to
think what a vast preponderance Christ's works
of love had over his works of power. But it is
only to a very limited extent that we are disposed to admit the truth of this distinction.
We know of no miracle of our Lord that was a
mere miracle of power-a mere display of his
omnipotence-a mere sign wrought to prove
that he was Almighty. Every miracle of our
Saviour carried with it a lesson of wisdomgave an exhibition of his character-was a type
in some lower sphere of his working as the
Redeemer of our souls. In a far more intimate
sense than any of them was an outward proof
of his Divine authority, they were all instances,
or illustrations in more shadowy or more sub



228           THE WALTKnG
stantial form, of the remedial dispensations of
his mercy and grace in and upon the sinful
children of men —wrought by him, and recorded
now for us-far more to teach us what, as our
Saviour, he is-what he has already done, and
what he is prepared to do for us spiritually —
than to put into our hands evidence of the
divinity of his mission.
Let us take the two miracles that we have
now before us, both of which belong to the
first and smaller class-the miracles on nature.
Had it been the purpose of our Lord to make
a mere display of his omnipotence in the feeding of five thousand men, one can readily
imagine of its being done in a far more visible
and striking style than the one chosen. He
could have had the men, women, and children
go and gather up the stones of the desert or of
the lakeside, and as they did so could have
turned each stone into bread. Or he could
have brought forth the five loaves, and in, presence of all the people have multiplied them
into five thousand by a wave of his hand-by
a word of his power. He chose rather, here
as elsewhere-might we not say as everywhere?-to veil the workings of his omnipotence-to hide, as it were, the working of his




UrPo, THr  WATER.        229
hand and power, mingling it with that of
human hands and common earthly elements.
How much more it was our Lord's design to
convey a lessor. of instruction than to give a
display of his almightiness, we shall better be
able to judge when we have before us his own
discourse, illustrative of this very miracle,
delivered on the following day. We shall their
see how apt, and singular, and recondite a
symbolism of what he spiritually is to all true
believers lay wrapped up in his blessing, and
breaking, and dividing the bread.
But further still, was not the agency of all
his ministering servants, of all his true disciples,
most truly, vividly, picturesquely represented
in what happened upon that mountain side?
" Give ye them  to eat," such were Christ's
words to his apostles, as he handed to each of
them his portion of the five loaves and the two
fishes. Take and break and give to one another, such were the apostles' words to the
multitude. And as each took and broke, the
half that he kept for himself grew within the
hand that broke it, as did in turn the other
half he handed to his neighbor. Such was the
rule and method of the distribution and multiplication of the bread given to the thousands




230            THE WALKING
on the desert place of Bethsaida. Such is the
rule and method of the distribution and multiplication of the bread of life.
Let us gladly and gratefully accept the lessons
that the miracle conveys. Let us believe, and
act upon the belief, that the readier we are to
distribute of that bread to others, the fuller and
the richer shall be our own supply —that we
do not lose but gain by giving here —that there
is that scattereth here and yet increaseth,
From hand to hand let the life-giving bread be
passed, till all the hungry and perishing get
their portion —till all eat and are satisfied.
Or look again at. the other miracle —that of
walking upon the water. It was indeed a miracle of power, but one also of pity too, and
love.  He came in the morning watch, far
more to relieve from toil and protect from danger his worn-out and exposed disciples, than
merely to show that the sovereignty over nature was in his hands. Nor did he let that
coming pass without an incident pregnant with
spiritual instruction to us also; for is there not
much in each of us of Peter's weakness? We
may not have his first courage or faith-foi
there was much of both in the stepping out of
the boat; or we may not share in his impetu




UPON THE WAxrER.          231
ousness and over-confidence; and so we may
not throw ourselves among the waves and winds.
But often nevertheless they are around us; and
too apt are we, when so it happens with us, to
look at them —to think of our difficulties and
our trials and our temptations, till, Christ forgotten and out of sight, we begin to sink, happy only if in our sinking we turn to him, and
his hand be stretched out to save us. In his
extremity, it was not Peter's laying hold of
Christ, it was Christ's laying hold of him that
bore him up. And in our extremity it is not
our hold of Jesus, but his of us, on which our
trust resteth.  Our hand is weak, but his is
strong; ours so readily relaxes —too often lets
go its hold; but his-none can pluck out of it,
and none that are in it can perish.




XI.
THE DISCOURSE IN THE SYNAGOGUE OF CAPERNAUM.*
WTHEN, after a single day's absence on
the other side of the lake, Jesus and
his disciples returned to the land of Gennesaret, so soon as they were come out of the ship,
"straightway," we are told, " they knew him,
and ran through that whole region round
about, and sent out into all that country, and
brought to him all that were diseased, and began to carry about in beds those that were
sick; and whithersoever he entered, into villages, or cities, or country, they laid the sick in
the streets, and besought him that they might
touch if it were but the border of his garment:
and as many as touched him were made
whole."t
Never before had there appeared to be so
* John vi. 22-71.   t Matt. xiv. 35; Mark. vi. 5-56.




THE DISCOURSE IN THE SYNAGOGUE.  233
great and so lively an interest in his teaching,
or so large a measure of faith in his healing
power. But behind this show of things Jesus
saw that there was little or no readiness to receive him in his highest character and office.
Some were prepared to acknowledge him as
Elias, or one of the prophets; some, like Herod,
to hail him as the Baptist risen from dead;
others, like the multitude on the lake-side, to
take him by force and make him a king; but
the notions of all alike concerning him and his
mission were narrow, natural, earthly, selfish,
unspiritual. It is at this very culminating
point of his wonderful apparent popularity,
that Jesus begins to speak and act as if the
hope were gone of other and higher notions of
himself and of the kingdom of God being entertained by the nation at large. Hitherto he
had spoken much about that kingdom, and but
little about himself; leaving his place therein
to be inferred from what he said and did. He
had spoken much about the dispositions that
were to be cultivated, the duties that were to
be done, the trials that were to be borne, the
blessedness that was to be enjoyed by those
admitted into the kingdom-of which earlier
teaching St. Matthew had preserved a full and




234        THE DISCOURSE IN THE
perfect specimen in the Sermon on the Mount;
but he had said little or nothing of the one living central spring of light and life and holiness
and joy within that kingdom, giving to it its
being, character, and strength. In plainer or
in clearer guise he had proclaimed to the multitude those outer things of the kingdom whose
setting forth should have allured them into it;
but its inner things had either been kept back
from sight, or presented in forms draped
around with a thick mantle of obscurity. He
had never once hinted at his own approaching
death as needful to its establishment-as laying, in fact, the foundation upon which it was
to rest; nor had he spoken of the singular ties
by which all its subjects were to be united personally to him, and to which their entrance
and standing and privileges within the kingdom were to be wholly due. Now, however,
for the first time in public, he alludes to his
death, in such a way indeed as few if any of
his hearers could then understand, yet one that
assigned to it its true place in the economy of
our redemption. Now for the first time in
public he speaks openly and most emphatically
of what he is and must be to all who are saved;
proclaiming a supreme attachment to himself,




SYNAGOGUE OF CAPERNAUM.      235
an entire and exclusive dependence on himself,
a vital incorporating union with himself, to be
the primary and essential characteristic of all
true subjects of that kingdom which he came
down from heaven to set up on earth. From
this time he gives up apparently the project of
gaining new adherents; withdraws from the
crowds, forsakes the more populous districts of
Galilee, devotes himself to his disciples, retires
with them to remote parts of the country, discourses with them about his approaching decease, unfolding, as he had not done before,
both publicly and privately, the profounder
mysteries of his person and of his work.
To the discourse recorded by St. John in
the sixth chapter of his Gospel, the special
interest attaches that it marks this transition
-point in the teachings and actings of our Lord.
The great body of those miraculously fed upon
the five loaves and the two fishes dispersed at
the command of Christ, and sought their homes
or new camping grounds. A number, however, still lingered near the spot where the
miracle had been performed. They had seen
the apostles. go off without Jesus. They had
noticed that the boat they sailed in was the
only one that had left the shore  They ex



236        TmHE DISCOURSE IN THE
pected to meet Christ again next morning;
but, though they sought for him everywhere.
around, they could not find him. He must
have taken some means to follow and rejoin
his disciples, though what these were they cannot fancy. In the course of the forenoon some
boats come over from Tiberias, of which they
take advantage to recross the lake. After
searching for him in the land of Gennesaret
they find him at last in the synagogue of Capernaum. The edge of their wonder still fresh,
they say to him, " Rabbi, when camest thou
hither?"-a mere idle question of curiosity, to
which he gives no answer. A far weightier
question for them than any as to the time or
the manner in which Jesus had got here was,
why were they so eagerly following him?
This question he will help them to answer.
" Verily, verily," is our Lord's reply, " ye seek
me, not because ye saw the miracles, but because ye did eat of the loaves and were filled."
The miracle of the preceding evening had
introduced a new element of attractive power.
The multitudes who had previously followed
Jesus to get their sick healed, and to see the
wonders that he did, were now tempted to follow'him, in the hope of having that miracle




SYNAGOGUE OF CAPERNAUM.     237
repeated —their hunger again relieved. Sad
in heart as he contrasted their eagerness in
this direction with their apathy in another,
Jesus said to them, "Labor not for the meat
which perisheth, but for that meat which endureth unto everlasting life, which the Son of
Man shall give you; for him  hath God the
Father sealed." A dim yet somewhat true
idea of what Christ means dawns upon the
minds of his hearers. Accepting his rebuke,
perceiving that he points to something required
of them in order to promote their higher and
eternal interests; knowing no other way in
which this could be done than by rendering
some service to God, but altogether failing to
notice the allusion to the Son of Man and what
they were to get from him, —" What shall we
do," they say, " that we may work the works
of God?" —tell us what these works are with
which God will be most pleased, by the doing
of which we may attain the everlasting life.
"This," said Jesus, "is the work of God, that
ye believe on him whom he hath sent." It is
not by many works, nor indeed, strictly speaking, by anything looked at as mere work, that
you are to gain that end. There is one thing
here which primarily, and above all others, you




238        THE DISCOURSE IN THE
are called to do: to believe on him whom the
Father hath sent unto you; to believe on mne:
not simply to credit what I say, but to put
your supreme, undivided trust in me as the
procurer and dispenser of that kind of food by
which alone your souls can be nourished up
into the life everlasting. It was a large and
very peculiar demand on Christ's part, to put
believing on himself before and above all other
things required. Struck with its singularity,
they say unto him, "What sign showest thou
that we may see and believe thee?-what dost
thou work?" If thou art really what thou
apparently claimest to be-greater than all
that have gone before thee, greater even than
Moses-show us some sign; not one like those
already shown, which, wonderful as they have
been, have been but signs on earth; show us
one from heaven like that of Moses, "when
our fathers did eat manna in the desert, as it is
written, He gave them bread from heaven to
eat."-" You ask me "-such in effect is our
Lord's reply-" to prove my superiority to
Moses by doing something greater than he
ever did; you point to that supply of the
manna as one of the greatest of his miracles.
But in doing so you make a twofold mistake.




SYNAGOGUE OF CAPERNAUM.     239
It was not Moses that gave that bread from
heaven. It came from a higher than hefrom him who is my Father, and who giveth
still the true bread from heaven; not such
bread as the manna which was distilled as the
dew in the lower atmosphere of the earth,
which did not give life, but only sustained it,
and that only for a limited time and a limited
number. The true'bread of God is that*
which cometh down from heaven, and giveth
life unto the world.'"
Hitherto, Jesus had been speaking of a food
or bread which he and his Father were ready
to impart; describing it as superior to the mana, inasmuch as it came from a higher region
and discharged a higher office, supplying the
wants, not of a nation, but of the world; yet
still speaking of it as if it were a separate outward thing. Imagining that -it was something
external, that eye could see, or hand could handle, or mouth could taste, to which such wonderful qualities belonged, with a greater earnestness and reverence than they had yet shown,
his hearers say to him, " Evermore give us this
bread." The time has come to drop that form
Not "he," as in our translation.




240        Tm DISCOURSE IN THE
of speech which Jesus hitherto has used; to
cease speaking  abstractedly or figuratively
about a food or bread, to tell them plainly and
directly, so that there could be no longer any
misunderstanding, who and what the meat was
which endureth unto everlasting life. "Then
said he unto them, I am the bread of life: he
that cometh to me shall never hunger, and he
that believeth on me shall never thirst." I am
not simply the procurer or the dispenser of this
bread, I am more-I am the bread. If you
would have it, you must not only come to me
for it, but take me as it. And if you do soif you come to me and believe on me-you
shall find in me that which will fully and abidingly meet and satisfy all the inward wants
and cravings of your spiritual nature, all the
hunger and the thirst of the soul. Bring these to
me, and it shall not be as when you try to quench
or satisfy them elsewhere with earthly things,
the appetite growing even the more urgent
while the things it feeds on become ever less
capable of gratifying. Bring the hunger and
the thirst of your soul to me, and they shall be
filled. But ye will not do so, ye have not done
so. " Ye have seen me, and believe not." It
may look thus as if my mission had failed, as if




SYNAGOGUE OF CAPERNAUM.     241
few or none would come to me that they might
have life; but this is my comfort in the midst
of all the preseut and prevailing unbelief, that,
" all that the Father giveth me shall come to
me," their coming to me is as sure as their donation to me by the Father. But as sure also
as is his fixed purpose is this fixed fact, "him
that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out;"
for I came down from heaven on no separate
or random errand of my own, to throw myself
with unfixed purposes amid unforeseen events,
to mould them to unknown or uncertain issues.
I came " not to do mine own will, but the will
of him that sent me:" and that will of his I
carry out in rejecting none that come to me,
in throwing my arms wide open to welcome
every one who feels himself dying of a hunger
of the heart that he cannot get satisfied, in taking him and caring for him, and providing for
him, not letting him perish-no part of him
perish, not even that which is naturally perishable; but taking it also into my charge to
change at last the corruptible into the incorruptible, the natural into the spiritual, redeeming
and restoring the entire man, clothing him with
the garment meet for a blessed and glorious immortality; for " this is the Father's will which




242        THE DISCOURSE IN THE
hath sent me, that of all which he hath given
me I should lose nothing, but should raise it up
again at the last day."  Let me say it once
again, that no man may think there lies any
obstacle to his salvation in a preformed purpose
or decree of my Father, that all may know how
free their access to me is, and how sure and full
and enduring the life is that they shall find in
me. " And this is the will of him that sent me,
that every one that seeth the Son and believeth
on him may have everlasting life; and I will
raise him up at the last day.'"*
Overlooking all the momentous truths; all
the gracious assurances and promises that these
words of Jesus conveyed, his hearers fix up.on
a single declaration that he had made. Ignorant of the great mystery of his birth,. they murrmur among themselves, saying, "Is not this
Jesus the son of Joseph, whose father and
mother we know?  How is it, then, that he
saith, I came down from heaven?" Jesus does
not answer these two questions, any more than
he had answered the question they had put to
him at first as to how he had got to Capernaum. He sees and accepts the offence that
* Compare John vi. 39 and 40.




SYNAGOGUE OF CAPERNAUM       243
had been taken, the prejudice that had been
created, and he does nothing to remove it. He
enters into no explanation of the saying that
he'lad come down from heaven; but he will
tell these murmurers and objectors still more
plainly than he has yet done why it is that they
stand at such a distance and look so askance
upon him. " Murmur not among yourselves."
Hope not by any such questions as you are
putting to one another to solve the difficulties
that can so easily be raised about this or that
particular saying of mine. What you want is
not a solution of such difficulties, which are,
after all, the fruits and not the causes of your
unbelief. The root of that unbelief lies deeper
than where you would place it. It lies in the
whole frame and habit of your heart and life.
The bent of your nature is away from me.
You want the desires, the affections, the aims,
the motives which would create within you the
appetite and relish for that bread which comes
down from heaven. You want that inward
secret drawing of the heart which also cometh
frontl heaven, for " no man can come to me except the Father draw him" —a drawing this,
however, that if sought will never be withheld;
if imparted, will prevail, for " it is written in




244         THE DISCOURSE IN THE
the prophets, And they shall be all taught of
God. Every man, therefore, that hath heard
and learned of the Father cometh unto me."
Not that you are to imagine that you can go to
him as you can go to me, that you can see him
without seeing me, can hear him without hearing me. " Not that any man hath seen the
Father, save he which is God, he hath seen the
Father." It is in seeing me that you see the
Father. It is in hearing me that you hear the
Father. It is through me that the drawing of
the Father cometh. Open eye and ear then,
look unto me, hear, and your soul shall live.
"Verily, verily, I say unto you, he that believeth on me hath everlasting life." He hath
it now, he hath it in me. "I am that bread of
life."  A very different kind of bread from that
of which you boast as once given of old through
Moses. "Your fathers did eat manna in the
wilderness, and are dead." The manna had no
life in itself. If not instantly used, it corrupted
and perished. It had power to sustain life for
a time, but none to ward off death. The bread
from heaven is life-giving and death-destroying. "This is the bread which cometh down
from heaven, that a man may eat thereof and
net die. I am the living bread; if any man




SYNAGOGUE OF CAPERNAUM.      245
eat of this bread he shall live forever, and the
bread that I will give is my flesh, which I will
give for the life of the world."
However puzzled about the expression of his
coming down from  heaven, Christ's hearers
might readily enough have understood him as
taking occasion from the recent miracle to represent himself, the truths he taught, and the
pattern life he led, as being for the soul of man
what the bread is for his body. But this
change of the bread into flesh, or rather, this
identifying of the two, this speaking of his own
flesh as yet to be given for the life of the world.
and when so given to be the bread of which so
much had been already said, startles and perplexes them more than ever. Not simply
murmuring, but striving among themselves,
they say, " How can this man give us his flesh
to eat?"-a question quite akin to that which
Nicodemus put when he said, " How can a man
be born again when he is old?" And treated
by Jesus in like manner, by a repetition, in a
still more stringent form, of the statement
to which exception had been taken: " Verily,
verily, I say unto you, Except ye eat the flesh
of the Son of Man, and drink his blood, ye
have no life in you." To speak of eating his




2i6         THE DISCOURSE IN THE
flesh was sufficiently revolting to those who
understood him literally; but to Jewish ears,
to those who had been so positively prohibited
from all use of blood as food, how inexplicable, how almnost impious, must the speaking of drinking his blood have been. Indifferent to the effect, our Lord goes on to repeat and reiterate: "Whoso eateth my flesh,
and drinketh my blood, hath eternal life; and
I will raise him up at the last day. For my
flesh is meat indeed, and my blood is drink indeed. He that eateth my flesh, and drinketh
my blood, dwelleth in me, and I in him. As
the living Father hath sent me, and I live by
the Father: so he that eateth me, even he shall
live by me."
Such, as I have attempted in the way of
paraphrase to bring them out to view, were
the most salient points in our Lord's address,
and such the links by which they were united.
Aimong all our Lord's discourses in Galilee this
one stands by itself distinguished from all
the others by the manner in which Christ
speaks of himself. Nowhere else do you find
him so entirely dropping all reserve as to his
own position, character, services, and claims.
Let him be the Eternal Son of the Father who




SYNAGOGUE OF CAPERNAUM.       247
veiled the glories of Divinity, and assumed the
garb of mortal flesh that he might serve and
suffer and die for us men and our redemption,
then all that he here asserts, requires, and
promises appears simple, natural, appropriate.
Let the great truths of the Incarnation and
Atonement be rejected, then how shall this discourse be shielded from the charges of egotismn
and arrogance? But Christ's manner of speaking to the people is here as unprecedented as
the way of speaking about himself. Here also
there is the absence of all reserve. Instead of
avoiding what he knew would repel, he seems
rather to have obtruded it: answering no questions, giving no explanations, modifying no
statements; unsparingly exposing the selfishness, ungodliness, unbelief of his auditors. The
strong impression is created that by bringing
forth the most hidden mysteries of the kingdom
and clothing these in forms fitted to give offence,
it was his purpose to test and sift, not the rude
mass of his Galilean hearers only, but the circle
of his own discipleship. Such at least was. its
effect; for "many of his disciples when they
heard this, said, This is a hard saying; who can
hear it?"' Jesus does not treat their murmuring exactly as he had that of the Jews; turn



248        THE DISCOURSE IN THE
ing to them, he says, "Doth this about my
coming down from heaven offend you?" but
"what and if ye shall see the Son of Man ascend up where he was before?" Doth this
about eating my flesh and drinking my blood
offend you?  "It is the spirit that quickeneth,"
the mere flesh without the spirit profiteth nothing, hath no life-giving power.
It is by no external act whatever, by no outward ordinance or service, that you are to attain to the life everlasting. It is by hearing,
believing, spiritually coming to me, spiritually
feeding upon me, that this is to be reached.
"The words that I speak unto you, they are
the spirit and they are the life." Still I know,
for I must speak as plainly to you as to the
multitude, "that there are some of you that
believe not. Therefore said I unto you, that
no man can come unto me, except it were
given unto him of my Father." To have hard
things said, and then to have the incredulity
they generated exposed in such a way and
attributed to such a cause, was what many
could not bear; apd so from that time many
of his disciples went back and walked no more
with him. With infinite sadness, such a sorrow
as he only could feel, his eye and heart follow




SYNAGOGUE OF CAPERNAUM.      249
them as they go away; but he lets them go
quietly and without further remonstrance;
then, turning to the twelve, he says, " Will ye
also go away? "-" Lord," is Peter's prompt
reply, " to whom shall we go? Thou hast the
words of eternal life." What Jesus thought of
this confession we shall see, when not long
afterwards it was repeated. Now he makes no
comment upon it; but as one upon whose
mind the last impression of the day was that
of sadness over so many who were alienated
from him, he closes the interview by saying,
"Have I not chosen you twelve, and one of
you is a devil."
Such were its immediate original results.
What would be the effect of a first hearing or
first reading of this discourse now? We cannot well answer the question; we have read
and heard it so often, its phrases are so familiar
to our ears, the key to its darkest sayings is in
our hands. Nevertheless, are there not many
to whom some of its expressions wear a hard
and repulsive aspect,-are felt, though they
would scarcely acknowledge this to themselves,
as overstrained and exaggerated? It is not
possible indeed to understand, much less to
sympathize with and appreciate, the fullness




250        THE DISCOURSE IN THE
and richness of meaning involved in many of
these expressions, unless we look to our Lord's
death as the great propitiation for our sins,
and have had some experience of the closeness,
the tenderness, the blessedness of that mystic
bond which incorporates each living member
of the spiritual body with Christ the living
head. Had Jesus spoken of himself, simply
and alone as the bread of life, it had been possible to have understood him as setting forth
his instructions and his example as furnishing
the best kind of nutriment for the highest part
of our nature. Even so strong a phrase as his
flesh being the bread might have been interpreted as an allusion to his assumption of our
nature, and to the benefits flowing directly
from the Incarnation. But when he speaks of
his flesh being given for the life of the world,
-when he speaks of the drinking of his blood
as well as of the eating of his flesh, pronounces
them to be the source at first and the support
afterwards of a life that cannot die, and that
shall draw after it resurrection of the body,it is impossible to put any rational construction
upon phrases like these other than that which
sees in them a reference to our Lord's atoning
death as the spring and fountain of the new




SYNAGOGUE OF CAPERNAUM.       251
spiritual life to which through him all true believers are begotten.
But although the great truth of the sacrificial character of Christ's death be wrapped up
in such utterances, it is not that aspect of it
which represents it as satisfying the claims of
justice, or removing governmental obstacles to
the exercise of mercy, which is here set forth,
but that which views it as quickening. and sustaining a new spiritual life within dead human
souls. In words whose very singularity and
reiteration should make them sink deep into
our hearts, our Saviour tells us that until by
faith we realize, appropriate, confide in him,
as having given himself for us, dying that we
might live-until in this manner we eat his
flesh, and drink his blood, we have no life in
us.  Our true life lies in union with and likeness unto God, in peace with him, fellowship
with him, harmony of mind and heart with
him, in the doing of his will, the enjoyment of
his favor. This life that has been lost we get
restored to us in Christ.  "He that hath the
Son hath life." We begin to live when we begin to love, and trust, and serve, and submit
to our Father who is heaven; when distance,
fear, and doubt give place to filial confidence.




252         THE DISCOURSE IN THE
We pass from death unto life, when out of
Christ there floweth the first current of this
new being into our soul. The life that thus
emanates from him is ever afterwards entirely
dependent upon him for its maintenance and
growth.
Every living thing craves food. It differs
from  a dead thing in this, that it must find
something out of itself that it can take in, and
by some process more or less elaborate assimilate to itself; using it to repair the waste of
vital energy, to build up the life into full maturity and strength. Such a thing as a selforiginated, self-enclosed, self-supporting life
you can find nowhere but in God. Of all the
lower forms of life upon this earth, vegetable
and animal, it is true that by a blind, unerring
instinct each seeks and finds the food that suits
it best, that is fitted to preserve, expand, and
perfect. It is the high but perilous prerogative of our nature that we are left free to
choose our food. We may try, do try, —have
we not all tried, to nourish our souls upon that
which does not and cannot satisfy? Business
pleasure, society, wealth, honor,-we try to
feed our, soul with these, and the recurrent
cravings of unfilled hearts tell us that we have




SYNAGOGUE OF CAPERNAUM.       253
been doing violence to the first laws and conditions of our nature: a nature that refuses to
be satisfied unless by an inward growth in all
goodness, and truth, and love, and purity, and
holiness. It is to all of us, as engaged in the
endless fruitless task of feeding with the husks
of the earth a spirit that pants after the glory,
the honor, and the immortality of the, heavenly
places, that Jesus comes saying, "Wherefore
do ye spend money for that which is not bread,
and your labor for that which satisfieth not?"
" I am the bread of life; my flesh is meat indeed, my blood is drink indeed."
Bread is a dead thing in itself; the life that
it supports it did nothing to originate. But
the bread from heaven brings with it.the life
that it afterwards sustains. Secret and wonderful is the process by which the living organism of the human body transmutes crude dead
matter into that vital fluid by which the everwasting frame is recruited and reinvigorated.
More secret, more wonderful the process by
which the fullness of life and strength and
peace and holiness that lie treasured up in the
living Saviour passes into and becomes part of
that spiritual framework within the soul which
groweth up into the perfect man in Christ




254        THE DIScouRSE IN THE
Jesus. In one respect the two processes differ.
In the one it is the inferior element assimilated
by the superior, the inorganic changed into the
organic by the energy of the latter; in the
other, it is the superior element descending
into the inferior, by its presence and power
transmuting the earthly into the heavenly, the
carnal into the spiritual. There are forms of
life which, derivative at first, become independent afterwards. The child severs itself from
the parent, to whom it owes its breath, and
lives though that parent dies. The bud or the
branch lopped off from the parent stem, rightly
dealt with, lives on though the old stem wither
away. But the soul cannot sever itself from
him to whom it owes its second birth. It cannot live disjoined from Christ, and the life it
derives from him it has all the more abundantly
in exact proportion to the closeness, the constancy, the lovingness of its embrace of and its
abiding in him.
Closer than the closest of all earthly bonds is
the vital union of the believer with Christ.
One roof may cover those who are knit in the
most intimate of human relationships. But beneath that roof, within that family circle, amid
all the endearing intercourse and communion




SYNAGOGUE OF CAPERNAUM.      255
a dividing line runs between spirit and spirit;
each dwells apart, has a hermit sphere of its
own to which it can retire, into which none can
follow or intrude. But what saith our Lord of
the connexion between himself and each -of his
own?  "He that eateth my flesh and drinketh
my. blood, dwelleth in me, and I in him"  He
opens himself to us as the hiding-place, the resting-place, the dwelling-place for our spirit.
We flee unto him, and he hides us in the secret
of his presence, and keeps us secretly in that
pavilion. What a safe and happy home!.How blest each spirit that has entered it! But
more wonderful than our dwelling in him is his
dwelling in us. What is there in us to attract
such a visitant? —what room within our souls
suitable to receive him? Should he come,
should he enter, what kind of reception or entertainment can we furnish to such a guest?
Yet he comes-he deigns to enter —he accepts
the poor provision —the imperfect service.
Nay, more: though exposed to many a slight,
and many an open insult, he still waits on; has
pity, has patience, forgets, forgives; acts as no
other guest in any other dwelling ever acted
but himself. "Behold I stand at the door and
knock. If any man hear my voice, and open




256       TEE DISCOURSE IN THE
the door, I will come in to him, and sup with
him, and he with me." " If any man love me,
he will keep my words, and My Father will
love him, and we will come unto him, and
make bur abode with him."
To a still higher conception of the intimacy
of the union between himself and his own does
Jesus carry us: "As the living Father hath
sent me, and I live by the Father, so he that
eateth me shall live by me." It would seem
as if all the earthly imagery elsewhere employed
-that of the union of the branches with the
vine, of the members with the head, of the
building with the foundation-stone —however
apt, were yet defective, as if for the only fit,
full emblem Jesus had to rise up to the heavens
to find it in the closest and most mysterious
union in the universe, the eternal, inconceivable, ineffable, union between the Father and
himself-" That they all may be one, as thou,
Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they also
may be one in us: I in them and thou in me
that they may be made perfect in one."
There is a resemblance approaching almost
to a coincidence between the language used in
the synagogue of Capernaum and that used in
the upper chamber at Jerusalem. "The bread




SYNAGOGUE OF CAPERNAUM.     257
that I will give," Jesus said to the promiscuous
audience of Galileans, "is my flesh, which I
will give for the life of the world." " Take,
eat," such is the language in instituting the
Supper; "this is my body broken " —or as St.
Luke has it-" given for you."  In either case
the bread turns into the flesh or body of the
Lord. There had been no wine used in the
feeding of the five thousand, and so in the
imagery of the synagogue address, borrowed
obviously from that incident, no mention of
wine was made. There was wine upon the
supper-table at Jerusalem, and so, just as the
bread which was before him was taken to represent the body, the wine was taken to represent his blood. That eating of his flesh and
drinking of his blood, of which so much was
said at Capernaum, Jesus, in instituting the
ordinance of the Supper, taught his disciples
to identify with a true union with himself. So
close is the correspondence that many have
been led to think that it was to the Eucharist,
and to it exclusively, that Jesus referred in his
Capernaum address. We cannot tell all that
was then in our Saviour's thoughts. It may
have been that in imagination he anticipated
the time when he should sit down with the




258   THE DISCOURSE IN TIE SYNAGOGUE.
twelve. The Holy Communion may have been
in his eye as he spake within the Galilean synagogue. But there is nothing in what he said
which points to it alone. He speaks of the
coming to him, the believing in him as the eating of the bread which is his flesh. He speaks
of spiritual life owing its commencement, as
well as its continuance, to such coming, such
believing, such eating.  Is it in the ordinance
of the Supper, and in it alone, that we so come
and believe, eat and live? Is there no finding
and having, no feeding upon Christ but in the
Holy Sacrament? Freely admitting that to no
season of communion, to no spiritual act or exercise of the believer, do the striking words of
our Lord apply with greater propriety and
force than to that season and that act, when
together we show forth the Lord's death till he
come again, we cannot confine them to that
ordinance.




PHARISAIC TRADITIONS-THE SYRO-PH(ENICIAN
WOMAN.*
THE  Pharisaic party was well organized,
watchful, and intolerant. Its chief seat
was in the capital, but it kept up an active
correspondence with, and had its spies in, all
the provinces. Its bitter hostility, aiming at
nothing short of his death, which had driven
Jesus from Jerusalem, tracked his footsteps all
through his Galilean ministry. At an early
period of that ministry, Pharisees from Jerusalein are seen obtruding themselves upon him,
and now, as it draws near its close another company of envoys from the capital appear. They
come down after the Passover, inflamed by the
reports carried up to the Feast of the open
rupture that had taken place between Christ
Matt. xv. 1-28; Mark vii. 1-30.




260        PHAISAIC TRADITIONS.
and their brethren in Galilee. They come to
find out something to condemn, and they have
not long to wait. Watching the conduct of
Christ and his disciples, they notice what they
think can be turned into.a weighty accusation
against him before the people. Seizing upon
some opportunity whenl a considerable audi-.ence was present, they say to Jesus, "Why
do thy disciples transgress the traditions of the
elders? for they wash not their hands when
they eat bread."
The oral or traditional law, with its multiplied precepts and manifold observances which
had grown up around the written code, had
come to be regarded as of equal, nay, in some
respects, of superior importance. It was the
wine, the rulers said, while the other was but
the water. The acknowledgment of its authority forming the peculiar distinctive badge of
Pharisaism, such a weight was attached to its
observance that breaches of it were looked upon as greater sins than breaches of the written
law. Among these was that of eating with unwashed hands.  What with Persians, Greeks,
and Rornans, was but a social custom, the neglect of which was only a social offence, had
been raised among the Jews by the traditions




PHARISoIC TnRAITIONS.      261
of the elders into a religious duty, the neglect
of which was an offence against God. And so
strict were they in the observance of the duty,
that we read of a Jew of the Pharisaic type who
being imprisoned and put on a short allowance
of water, chose rather to die than not to apply part of what was given to the washing of
his hands before eating. We can have now but
an imperfect conception of how great the sin was
then thought to be with which those Pharisees
from Jerusalem charged publicly our Lord's disciples, aiming their real blow at him by whose
precept and example they had been taught to
act as they had done. " Why do thy disciples
transgress the traditions of the elders? for they
wash not their hands when they eat bread."
No explanation is given-no defence of his disciples is entered on. Our Lord has ceased to
deal with such questioners as being other than
malignant enemies. He answers their question
only by another-" Why do ye transgress the
commandment of God by your traditions?"
And as they had specified an instance in which
the traditions of the elders had been violated
by his disciples, he in turn specifies an instance
in which they, by their traditions, had nullified
a commandment of God. No human duty was




262        PmARIsMc TRADITIONS.
of clearer or more stringent obligation than
that by which a child was bound to honor, love,
and help his father and his mother. The command enforcing the duty stood conspicuously
enshrined among the precepts of the Decalogue.
But the elders in their traditions had found out
a way of reading it by which the selfishness, or
the covetousness, or the ill-will of a child might
not only find room for exercise, but might cloak
that exercise under a religious garb. All that
one who, from any evil motive, desired to evade
the obligation of assisting his parents had to do,
was to say Corban over that property on which
his parents might be supposed to have a claim,
to declare it to be consecrated-bound over to
the Lord-and he was free. Father or mother
might no longer ask or hope for anything at
his hands.  The property might still be his.
Hle might enjoy the life use of it; but the vow
that destined it to God must come in before
every other claim. So it was that these traditionalists among the Jews of old quenched the
instincts of nature, gave place to evil passions,
and broke one of the first and plainest of the
Divine commands, all under a pretence of piety.
Nor has the spirit by which they were animated in doing so ceased to operate; nor have we




PHARISAIC TRADITIONS.      263
far to go before an exact parallel can be found
to the Jewish Corban practice, in the conduct
of those who, passing by the nearest relatives,
whose very poverty supplies one of the reasons
why they are overlooked, bequeath to charitable or religious purposes the money that they
cannot carry with them to the grave. Neither
charity nor piety, however broad and pretentious the aspects they take, the services that
they may seem to render, can ever excuse such
a trampling under foot of the primary ties of
nature, and the moral duties connected with
them. And upon all those hospitals, and colleges, and churches that have been' erected and
endowed by funds unnaturally and improperly
alienated from near and needy relatives, we cau
but see that old Jewish word Corban engraved,
and beneath it the condemning sentence of our
Lord-" Thus have ye made the commandment
of God of none effect."
No further answer will our Lord give to the
Pharisees than this severe retort. But first to
the multitude, and afterwards to his disciples,
he will say a word or two of that wherein all
real defilement consists —not in the outward,
but in the inward; its source and seat within,
and not without. In the evil affections, desires,




264        PHARIsAic TRADITIONS.
and passions of the heart,-in these and what
comes out of them pollution lies; not in eating
with unwashed hands; nor in the violation of
any mere external conventional traditional
usage.
Jesus had rolled back upon the Pharisees a
weightier charge than they had brought against
his disciples. He had not hesitated openly to
denounce them to the people as hypocrites, applying to them the words of the Prophet, " This
people draweth nigh unto me with their mouth,
and honoreth me with their lips; but their
heart is far from me."  They were offended at
being spoken to in such a way. Shunning any
further outbreak of their wrath, seeking elsewhere now the rest and the seclusion that he
had sought in vain on the eastern side of the
lake, Jesus retired to the borders of Tyre and
Sidon. He went there not to teach nor to heal,
but to enjoy a few days' quiet and repose in
the lonely hilly region which looks down upon
the two ancient Phoenician cities. But he
could not be hid.  The rumor of his arrival
inl the neighborhood passed over the borders of
the Holy Land. It reached a poor afflicted
mother-a widow, it may have been-whose
little daughter was suffering under the frightful




THE SYRO-PHaENICmIN WOMAN.    265
malady of possession. This woman, we are
told, was a Greek, a Syro-Phoenician by nation
-a Canaanite. Phoenician was the general
name given to a race whose colonies were
widely spread in very ancient times. One division of this race occupied the country from
which they were driven out by the Israelites;
and as that country bordered upon Syria, they
were called Syro-Phoenicians by the Greeks
and Romans. It was to this tribe that the
woman belonged. She was a daughter of that
corrupt stock whom the Jews were commissioned to exterminate. But, besides being by
nation a Canaanite, she was a Greek; this
word describing not her country, but her creed.
She was a heathen, an idolatress-all such, of
whatever country, being then called Greeks by
the Jews. Such, then, by birth, by pedigree,
by religious faith and profession, was this woman, the first and only Gentile-a Canaanite
besides-who made a direct personal appeal
for help to Christ. The only case of a like
kind that meets us in the Galilean ministry was
that of the Roman centurion. But he was half
a Jew. Moreover, living among Jews, he had
his case presented to Jesus by the rulers of the
Jews, who had the plea to offer on his behalf,




266     THE SYRO-PH(ENICIAN WOMAN.
that he loved their nation, and had built them
a synagogue. Here, however, is a Gentile,
living among Gentiles, who has no Jewish
friends to intercede for her, no services rendered to the Jewish people to point to. It is
a pure and simple case of one belonging to the
great world of heathendom coming to Jesus.
How is she received? Her case, as she presents it to his notice, is of the very kind that
we should have said he would be quickest to
sympathize with and relieve. Meeting him by
the way, she cries out, in all the eagerness of
passionate entreaty, " Have mercy upon me, 0
Lord, thou son of David; my daughter is grievously vexed with a devil." Jesus had opened
willingly his ear to the nobleman of Capernaum
pleading, for his son; to Jairus pleading for his
daughter; the very sight of the widow of Nain
weeping over the bier of her only son had
moved him, unasked, to interfere. Here is
another parent interceding for a child  And
that child's condition is one of the most pitiable
-in the tender years of girlhood visited with
the most frightful of all maladies, in one of the
worst of its forms, —-grievously tormented with
a devil. Such a mother, in the agony of such
a grief, crying out to him to have compassion




THE SYRO-PHEaNICIAN WOMAN.    267
upon her, and upon her poor afflicted child,
will surely not have long to wait. But he
hears as though he heard not. He answers
her not a word. The kindest of men are not
always equally open-eared, open-hearted, or
open-handed to the tale of sorrow. Take them
at some unlucky moment, and a cool or a
rough reception may await the most clament of
appeals. Has anything like this happened to
our Lord?  Has his spirit been fretted with
that late contention with the Pharisees, wearied
and worn with the kind of reception his own
had given him, so that ear, and heart, and
hand are all, for the time, shut up against this
new and unexpected appeal of the stranger-?
It cannot be. Liable as he was to all common human frailties, our Lord was subject to
no such moral infirmity as that. Disappointment, chagrin, disgust never operated upon
him as they do so frequently on us, never
quenched the benevolence of his nature, nor
laid it even momentarily asleep. We must look
elsewhere for the solution of the mystery of the
silence-for mystery it was. The disciples noticed it with wonder. Their Master had never
actec so since they had joined him, had never
treated another as he is treating the Canaanite.




268      THE SYRO-PHENICIAN WOMAN.
But though her cry be thus received, making
apparently no impression, moving him to no
response, she follows, she repeats her cry;
continues crying, till half in real pity for her
and half with the selfish wish to be rid of her
importunity, the disciples came to him, saying,
"' Send her away, for she crieth after us," not
that they wanted her to be summarily dismissed, her request ungranted.  Christ's answer to this application shows that he did not
understand it in that sense; that he took it as
expressive of their desire that he should do
what she desired and then dismiss her.
A rare thing this in the history of our
Saviour, that he should even seem to be less
tender in his sympathy for the afflicted than
his disciples were; that he should need to be
importuned by them to deed of charity. But
all is rare here; rare his silence, rare their
entreaty, and rare too the next step or stage
of the incident. Still heedless of the womanneither looking at her, nor speaking to her, nor
apparently feeling for her-Jesus answers his
disciples by saying to them, "I am not sent
but unto the lost sheep of the house of Israel."
He gives this as his reason for paying no attention to this Gentile's request.  And it is so




THE S1YRO-PaECNICIAN WOMAN.     2G9
quietly and calmly said that it looks like the
expression of a firm and settled purpose. The
poor suitor hears it. Does it not at once and
forever quench all hope within her breast?
His silence might have been due to the absorption of his thoughts with other things. It
might be difficult to win the attention or fix it
on one who had so little claim on his regard.
But now she knows that he has heard, has
thought of her, but willfully, deliberately, as it
would seem, has waved her suit aside. Child
of a doomed rejected race, well mightest thou
have taken the Saviour's words as a final sentence, cutting off all hope, sending thee back
without relief to thy miserable home, to nurse
thy frenzied child in the arms of a dull despair.
But there was in thee a depth of affection for
that poor child of thine, and a tenacity of purpose that will not let thee give up the case till
effort after effort be made. There is in thee,
more than this, a keenness of intelligence, a
quickness to discern, that, adverse as it looked,
an absolute refusal did not lie wrapped up in
the Saviour's utterance. He is not sent to any
but to the lost sheep of tile house of Israel, but
does that bind him to reject the stray sheep of
another fold, if perchance it may flee to him




270     THE SYRO-PHENICIAN WOMAN.
for succor? He comes as a servant. with instructions to confine his personal ministry to
the children of a favored race. But is he not a
son too as well as a servant? Are his instructions so binding that in no case he may go by
a hand's-breadth beyond their line, when so
going may serve to further the great objects
of his earthly.mission? She will try at least
whether she cannot persuade him to do so.
Undauntedly she follows him  into the house
into which she sees that he has entered, casts
herself at his feet, and says, " Lord, help me! "
Before, she had called him Son of David, had
given him the title that, from intercourse with
Jewish neighbors, she knew belonged to him
as the promised Messiah. But now she drops
this title. As the Son of David, he was not
sent but to the Jews. She calls him, as she
worships, by the wider name, that carries no
restriction in it, gently intimating that as sovereign Lord of all, he might rise above his commission, and go beyond the letter of the instructions he had received. Lord, she says, as
she looks up, adoringly, beseechingly-Lord,
help me. She has got him at last to fix his eye
upon her. Will he, can he refuse to help?
Jesus looks and says, " Let the children first




THE SYRO-PHCENICIAN WOMAN.    271
be filled. It is not meet to take the children's
meat, and to cast it to dogs." Last and worst
repulse. Bad enough to be told that she lay
without the limits of his commission; but
worse to be numbered with the dogs. Yet
still she falters not. She accepts at once the
reality, the justice, the propriety of the distinction drawn. In the one household there
were the children of the family, there were also
the dogs, and it was right that they should be
fed at different times on different food. In the
great human household differences of a like
kind existed; there were the favored sons of
Abraham; there were the outcast children of
Ham and Japhet. She neither disputes the
fact nor quarrels with those arrangements of
Divine Providence under which a different
treatment had been given to them,-she takes
the lowly place that Christ has given her
among the outcast tribes-among the dogs! But
have not the dogs and the children all one
master? Do they not dwell all beneath one
roof? May not even the dogs look for some
little kindness at their master's hands? The
finest and the choicest of the food it is right
that the children should have, but are there no
fragments for them? " Truth, Lord," she says,




272     THE SYRO-PHEMCIAN WOMAN.
venturing in the boldness of her ardent faith to
take up the image that Jesus had used or had
suggested, and to construct out of it an argument, as it were, against himself-" Truth,
Lord; yet the dogs eat of the crumbs which
fall from their master's table."
"Truth, Lord, but thou art the Master;
and there dwells in thee such a kind and loving
heart, that I will not believe,- io, not though
thine own words and deeds may seem to de.
dare it,-that the meanest creature in thy
household will be overlooked or unprovided
for. Truth, Lord, I am not a child, and I ask
not, expect not, deserve not, a child's favor at
thine hands. I am but as a dog before thee,
and it is no part of the children's food, it is but
a crumb from thy richly furnished table that
I crave; and what but such among all the rich
and varied blessings that thou hast come to
lavish upon thine own-what but such would
be the having mercy upon the like of me, and
healing my poor afflicted child?" The Saviour's end is gained. It was a peculiar case,
and Christ had met it in a peculiar fashion.
He was about, still more distinctly and conspicuously than he had done in the case of the
Roman officer, by act and deed of his own




THE SYRO-PHENICIAN WoW.       271
hand, to unfold the mystery that had been hid
for ages, that the Gentiles should be fellowheirs with the Jews of the great spiritual inheritance of his purchase. In doing so he desired to make it patent upon what ground and
principle the door of entrance was to be
thrown open. Here was a Canaanitish woman applying to him for help. The curing of
her daughter was to be the token that however limited for the time his own personal ministry was to be, it was not to be fixedly and
forever exclusive in its character-confined
alone to Jews. Here was a Canaanitish woman about to be numbered with those on
whose behalf his Divine power went forth to
heal. To vindicate her admission within the
sphere of his gracious operations, it was to be
made manifest that she too, by faith, was a
daughter of faithful Abraham. Therefore it
was that her faith was subjected to such repeated trial, that impediment after impediment
was thrown before it, that it might be thoroughly tested, and come forth from the ordeal
shining in the lustre of the fullest and brightest
manifestations.
"O woman," said Jesus to her, when the
trial was over and the triumph complete, " 0




274     THE SYnRO-PHNICIAN WOMAN.
woman, great is thy faith!" Many things be.
side had there been to commend in her-her
strong maternal love, her earnestness, her importunity, her perseverance, her deep humility.
Over all these the Saviour passes, or rather he
traces them all up to their common root —her
faith in him, her trust under all discouragements-in front of all difficulties-in opposition
even to his own words and acts; her trust in
his goodwill to her, in his disposition to pity
and to help. This is what he commends, admires. Two instances only are recorded in
which Jesus passed such an approving judgment, and looked with such admiring regard
upon the faith of those who came to him; and
it.is remarkable that they are those of the two
Gentiles-the Roman Centurion and the SyroPhoenician woman. " Verily," said lie of the
one, " I have not found so great faith; no, not in
Israel!"  "Woman,' said he to the other,
"great is thy faith!" Great faith was needed
in those who were the first to force the barrier
that ages had thrown up between Jew and
Gentile, and great faith in these instances was
displayed. Of the two, however, that of the
purely Gentile woman was the highest in its
character and the noblest in its achievements.




THa SYRO-PHENICIAN WON.        275
The Roman's faith was m the unlimitedness
of Christ's power-a power he believed so great
that even as he said to his soldiers " Go.!" and
they went; "Come!" and they came; "Do
this!" and they did it,-so could Jesus say to
disease, and life, and death; curing at a distance! saving, by the simple word of his power! The faith of the Canaanite was not simply
in the unlimited extent of Christ's power. His
power she never for a moment doubted. He
had no reason to say to her, Believest thou that
I am able to do this? But his willingness he
himself gave her some reason to doubt. Thousands placed as she was would have doubted,
-thousands. tried as she was would have failed.
Which of us has a faith in Jesus of which we
are quite sure that it would come through such
a conflict unscathed? In her it never seems
for a moment to have faltered. In spite of his
mysterious, unexampled silence-of the explanation given of the silence that appeared to
exclude, —beneath the sentence that assigned
her a place among the dogs, her faith lived on,
with a power in it to penetrate the folds of that
dark mantle which the Lord for a short season
drew around him-to know and see that behind the assumed veil of coldness, silence, in




276     THE SYRO-PHENICIAN WOMN.
difference, repulse, reproach, there beat the
willing, loving heart, upon whose boundless benevolence she casts herself, trusting, and not
being afraid.  This was her confidence, that
there was more love to her in his heart than
the outward conduct of Jesus might seem to
indicate.  It was this confidence which sustained her from first to last. It was this confidence which carried her over all the obstructions thrown successively before her. It was
this confidence which sharpened her wit, and
gave her courage to snatch out of Christ's own
hand the weapon by which her last and greatest victory was won. It was this confidence in
him, in spite of all adverse appearances, which
pleased the Lord so much,-for he likes, as we
all do, to be trusted in,-and which drew from
him the unwonted expression at once of approval and of admiration, " 0 woman, great is thy
fiith!"  It is the same kind of simple trust in
Jesus that we all need; and in us too, if we
but had it in like degree, it would accomplish
like blessed results. What the silence and the
sentences of Jesus were to that entreating woman, crying after Jesus to have her poor child
cured, his ways and his dealings, in providence
and in grace, are to us crying after him for the




THE SYRO-PHEICIAN WOIAN.      277
healing of our own or others' spiritual maladies.
We cry, but he answers not a word; we entreat, but he turns upon us a frowning countenance; when he speaks, his words seem to cut
us off from comfort and from help. But deal
as he may with us, hide himself as he may,
speak roughly as he may, let us still believe
that there exists in the heart of our Redeemer
a love to us, upon which we can at all times
cast ourselves in full unbounded trust.
" Woman, great is thy faith: be it unto thee
even as thou wilt.  And her daughter was
made whole from that very hour."




XIII.
THE CIRCUIT THROUGH DECAPOLIS.*,W      E have now to follow Jesus through one
of the most singular of his journeyings.
His work in Galilee was done, but some days
still were left ere he set his face to go up to Jerusalem. These days were devoted to a circuit
which carried him  in a semicircle round the
western, northern, and eastern boundaries of
Galilee, keeping him outside the jurisdiction of
Herod, and beyond the reach of the Jewish
hierarchy. He was seeking for rest, seclusion,
security, and he found them where neither the
mistaken attachment of his friends, nor the hate
of his enemies in Galilee, were likely to follow
him. First he travelled over the hilly country
that lies to the northwest of the sea of Tiberias.
There, as he was passing out of the Galilean
* Matt. xv. 29-39; xvi. 1-12; Mark vii. 31-37 ~ viii. 1-26.




THE CIRCUIT THROUGH DECAPOLIS.   279
territory, he met the Syro-Phcenician woman,
and by the manner of his treatment of her re
vealed at once the simplicity, humility, tenacity of her faith, and the wide embrace of
his own love and power. Crossing the boundary-line that divided Palestine from Phoenicia,
passing the ancient city of Tyre, he proceeded
northward towards Sidon, getting a glimpse
there-it may have been a first and last oneof a country in which some of the most ancient
forms of heathenism still subsisted, in the worship of Baal and Astarte. Then, turning eastward, he crossed the southern ridge of Lebanon, descended into the valley of the Leontes,
skirted the base of the snow-capped Etermon,
and, somewhere not far from the sources of the
Jordan, entered Decapolis. This was the name
given to a large and undefined region which
lay around ten cities, to which peculiar privileges were granted by the Romans after their
conquest of Syria. All of these, with a single
exception, lay to the east and southeast of the
Sea of Galilee. At length he came upon that
sea, touching it somewhere along its eastern
shore, not far, it may have been, from the place
where he once before, crossing from Capernaum, had landed for a few hours, and where he




280           THE CMcurr
cured the demoniac of Gadara. At the cn;
treaty of the multitude Jesus had then instant
ly retired, not suffering the man upon whom
the cure had been wrought to accompany him,
but directing him to go and tell what had happened to his family and friends. "And he departed," we are told, "and began to publish
in Decapolis how great things Jesus had done
for him; and all did marvel." The rumor of
that miracle was still fresh, the wonder it had
excited had not died away, when, coming
through the midst of the coast of Decapolis,
Jesus sat down upon one of the mountains that
overlook the lake. The community through
which he had been moving was more than
half heathenish, the Jewish faith and worship
having but little hold eastward of the river and
the lake.  Christ's appearance for the first
time among this rude and essentially Gentile
population, and the readiness with which he
healed the deaf man that had an impediment
in his speech, produced the very effect which
in such circumstances might have been anticipated. " Great multitudes came to him, having with them  those that were lame, blind,
dumb, maimed, and many others," eagerly but
somewhat roughly casting them down at the




THROUGH DECAPOLS.         281
feet of Jesus; wondering as at an altogether
new sight, beyond measure astonished when
they saw the dumb made to speak, and the
blind to see, and the lame to walk, and glorifying, not any of their own idols, but glorifying
the God of Israel, in whose name and by whose
power these great works were done.*
Three days they crowded in upon Jesus, till
about four thousand men, beside women and
children, were around him on the mountain
side. Many of them had come from a distance,
and the food that they had brought with them
was exhausted. That they might not go fasting away from him, to faint, it might be, on
the road, Jesus repeated the miracle he had
once wrought before, on the same side of the
lake, but at a different season of the year, and
for an entirely different sort of people. Among
the coincidences and the differences in the narratives which the evangelists have given of
these two miraculous feedings of the multitudes,
there is one not preserved in our English version. After the five thousand were fed with
the five loaves and the two fishes, the disciples,
we are told, took up twelve baskets full of frag* Matthew xv. 30, 31.




282             THE CIrCUIT
men ts. After the four tnousand were fed with
the seven loaves and the few small fishes, seven
baskets full of fragments were gathered. In
the Greek tongue there are two different words,
describing two vessels of different size and
structure, both of which, without any mark of
distinction between them, our translators of the
Bible have rendered into the English word
" basket." It is one of these words which invariably and exclusively is used in describing
the first miracle, and the other which is as invariably and exclusively used in describing the
second. The employment in the two cases of
two different kinds of vessel has thus been distinctly marked and preserved as one of the
slighter circumstantial peculiarities by which
the two events were distinguished from one
another.
The multitude having been fed and sent
away, Jesus took ship and sailed across the
lake, landing on its western shores between
Tiberias and Capernaum. He had scarcely reappeared in the neighborhood in which most
of his wonderful works had been wrought, when,
once again, in their old spirit of contemptufous
challenge, the Pharisees demand that he would
show them a sign from heaven. Now, how



THROUGH DECAPOIu.         283
ever, for the first time, the Sadducees appear
by their side, leaguing themselves with the
Pharisees in a joint rejection of Christ —in
slighting all that he had already said and done
-in counting it insufficient to substantiate any
claim on his part to be their Messiah, and in
demanding the exhibition of some great wonder
in the heavens, such as, misreading some of the
ancient prophecies, they falsely thought should
precede Christ's advent. Saddened and vexed,
with a word of stern rebuke to the men who
stood tempting him, and a deep sigh heaved
over the whole village to which they belonged,
Jesus abruptly departed, embarking in such
haste that the disciples forgot to furnish themselves with more than a single loaf. As they
landed on the other side, Jesus charged them
to beware of the leaven of the Pharisees and
Sadducees. The pitiful simplicity which they
displayed in failing to see what Jesus meant,
and in imagining that because he had used the
word " leaven," it must be their having failed
to bring bread enough with them that he was
pointing at, stirred the gentle spirit of their
Master, and led him to administer a more than
ordinarily severe rebuke, the main weight of
which was laid, not upon their stupidity in not




284            THE CIRCUIT
understanding him, but in their want of trust,
their forgetting how the many thousands had
been provided for in the desert and on the
mountain side.
At Bethsaida, to which place Jesus went on
his way to Caesarea Philippi, they brought a
blind man to him, and besought him to touch
him. This case, and that of the deaf and stanmmering man brought to him in Decapolis, have
many points of resemblance. In both, those
who brought the diseased to Jesus prescribed
to him the mode of cure. They besought him
to lay his hand upon them, or to touch them.
Was it for the very purpose of reproving and
counteracting the prejudice which connected the
cure with a certain kind of manipulation on
the part of the curer, that Jesus in both instances went so far out of his usual course,
varying the manner of his action so singularly,
that out of all his miracles of healing these two
stand distinguished by the unique mode of their
performance? This at least is certain, that
had Jesus in any instance observed one settled
and uniform method of healing, the spirit of
formalism and superstition which lies so deep
in our nature would have seized upon it, and
linked it inseparably with the divine virtue




THROUGH DECAPOLIS.       285
that went out of him, confounding the channel
with the thing that the channel conveyed.
More and more, as we ponder the life of our
Redeemer, dwelling particularly on those parts
of it —such as his institution of the sacraments
— in which food might have been furnished
upon which the spirit of formalism might have
fed, more and more do we wonder at the pains
evidently taken to give to that strong tendency
of our nature as little material as possible to
fasten on.
Besides, however, any intention of the kind
thus alluded to, the variations in our Lord's
outward modes of healing may have had special
adaptation to the state of the individuals dealt
with, and may have been meant to symbolize the
great corresponding diversity that there is in
those spiritual healings of which the bodily ones
were undoubtedly intended to be types. Let
us imagine that the deaf stammerer of Decapolis
was a man whose spiritual defects were as
complicated as his physical ones; whose hard,
unclean heart it was singularly difficult to
reach and to renew; who required repeated
efforts to be made, and a varied instrumentality to be employed, before he yielded to the
power of the truth, or was brought under its




286            THE CIRCUIT
benignant sway. Then see with what picturesque fidelity and appropriateness the slowness
and difficulty of the one kind of healing was shadowed forth in the other. Jesus took him aside
from the multitude, went away with, him alone
into some quiet and secluded place. The very
isolation-the standing thus alone face to face,
was of itself fitted to arrest, to concentrate the
man's thoughts upon what was about to happen. Then Jesus put his fingers into his ears,
as if by this very action he meant to indicate
the need there was of an operation which
should remove the obstruction, and that his
was the hand to do it. Then with a like intent
he touched the man's dry and withered tongue
with fingers moistened with his own spittle.
Then he looked up to heaven and sighed —the
sigh unheard-but the look upward, and the
emotion which it conveyed, not lost upon the
mlan. Then after all these preliminaries, in
course of which we may believe that whatever
of incredulity or whatever of unbelief there
may have lain within was being gradually subdued, at last he said Ephpkatha, and the ears
were opened and the tongue was loosed.
Two things here were peculiar, the sigh and
the preserving the old Aramaic word which




THROUGH DECAPOLIS.        287
Jesus used. Never in any other instance but
in this, when Jesus was about to heal, did a
sigh escape from his lips. What drew it forth
here? It may have been that as he drew the
man aside and confronted him alone, the sorrowful spectacle that he presented became to
the quick sympathies of Jesus suddenly and
broadly suggestive of all the ills that flesh is
heir to, and that it was over them collectively
that the sigh was heaved. Such interpretation
of its meaning leaves unexplained why it was
this case, and it alone, which acted in such a
manner upon the sympathies of the Redeemer.
But the sigh may have had a deeper source.
If this were indeed a man whose soul was difficult of reach and cure, he may have presented
himself to Jesus as the type and emblem  of
those obstinate cases of spiritual malady, some
of which would so long resist the great remedy
that he came to the earth to furnish.
After the sigh came the utterance Ephphatha, a word belonging to that dialect of the
old Hebrew language called the Aramaic or
Syro-Chaldaic, which was then current in Judea. But if that was the language which
Christ ordinarily used-in which, for example,
the Sermon on the Mount was spoken-why




288            THE CIcuIT
was it that in this, and one or two other instances, and in these alone, the exact words
which Christ employed are preserved in the
evangelic record? It cannot be the peculiarity
or solemnity of the occasion, or the particular
emphasis with which they were spoken, that
entitled them to be selected and preserved,
for we can point to many other occasions in
which, had Jesus used Aramaic words, they
should have had as good, indeed a better claim
to have been preserved. The true explanation
of this matter seems to be that it was only
upon a few rare occasions that Jesus did employ the old vernacular tongue-and that he
ordinarily spoke in Greek. It has recently,
and -s I think conclusively, been established
by a great variety of proof, that in the days of
our Saviour, the Jews knew and spoke two
languages; all the grown-up educated population using the Greek as well as the Aramaic
tongue. The Greek predominated in the
schools, was employed almost exclusively in
written documents and by public speakers. It
was in this language that Jesus addressed the
crowds in the courts of the temple at Jerusalem, and the multitudes on the hill-sides of
Galilee. We have, therefore, in our Greek




TIROUGH DECAPOLIS.        289
New Testament, the very words before us
which came from the lips of our Redeemermore sacred, surely, than if they had been
translated from the Aramaic, however faithful
the rendering. Assuming that Greek was the
language ordinarily employed by our Saviour,
it would very naturally occur that occasionally
he reverted to the old dialect, and that when
he did so the words that he used should have
*been preserved and interpreted. Thus, for
instance, in the house of Jairus, Jesus was in
the home of a strictly Jewish family, in which
the old language would be used in all domestic
intercourse, the little daughter who lay dead
there having not yet learned perhaps the newly imported tongue. "How beautifully accordant then with the character of him whose
heart was tenderness itself, that as he leant
over the lifeless form of the maiden and
breathed that life-giving whisper into her ear,
it should have been in the loved and familiar
accents of the mother tongue, saying, " Talitha
cumi!" Although dead and insensible the monment before the words were uttered, yet ere
the sound of them passed away there was life
and sensibility within her. Does not every
reader therefore perceive the thoughtful ten



290             TiE CmIcurr
derness of the act, and a most sufficient reason
why it was in Hebrew and not in Greek that
our Lord now addressed her? And do we not
also discover a cause why the fact of his having done so should be especially noticed by
the evangelist? Are we not thus furnished
with a new and affecting example of our Saviour's graciousness? And do we not feel that
St. Mark, the most minutely descriptive of all
the evangelists, deserves our gratitude for having taken pains to record it? Softly and
sweetly must the tones of that loving voice,
speaking in the language of her childhood,
have fallen upon the sleeping spirit of the
maiden, and by words of tenderness, no less
than words of power, was she thus recalled to
life and happiness."*
It was perhaps still more natural that Jesus,
in addressing the deaf stammerer of Decapolis,
should have used an Aramaic word. He was
a rude mountaineer. The vernacular was perhaps the only language of which he had any
knowledge. At any rate, it was the one to
which he had been the most accustomed. It
could have been solely with a regard to the
* See Roberts' Discussions on the Gospel, pp. 89, 90.




THROUGH DECAPOLIS.       291
man himnself that Jesus employed the particular
term Jpl]phlat/h. He meant him to hear and
understand it. And it was heard, we believe,
and understood; for this was not a case in
which the faculty of hearing and speaking had
never existed or been exercised. So soon as
the physical impediments were removed, the
man could speak as he had spoken before the
loss of hearing had been incurred. When,
after all the other signs of the coming cure had
been given, the emphatic word was at last pronounced, how wise, how gracious was it that
that word —the first heard after so many years
-should have been one of his well-known,
well-loved mother-tongue!
But let us turn now for a moment to the
cure of the blind man at Bethsaida. Here, too,
we may believe that there was something special in the spiritual condition of the man meant
to be typified by the manner of his cure. In
the taking of him by the hand, the leading out
of the town, the spitting upon his eyes, and
putting his hands upon him, Jesus may have
had the same objects in view which he had in
acting in a similar manner with the deaf man
at Decapolis, and the man born blind in Jerusalem; but there was a singularity that marks




292            THE CIRCUIT
this case off from all the others. It is the only
instance of progress in a cure by half and half,
of an intermediate stage in the first instance
reached. Jesus asked him if he saw aught.
He looked up and said that he saw men as
trees walking. He saw them-knew them to
be men-noticed and described their motion;
but they were shapeless to his eye-looked
rather like trees than men. It is this circumstance which leads us to believe that he had
not been blind from birth.
To endow a man born blind with the ftll
powers of vision requires a double miracle-one
upon the bodily organ, restoring to it its powers; one upon the mind, conferring upon it the
faculty that in the years of infancy a long education is required to impart. A youth who had
been blind from birth was couched by Cheselden; but at first and for some time he could
not distinguish one object from another, however different in shape or size. He had to be
told what the things were, with whose forms
he had been familiar from feeling, and slowly
learned to recognize them. And slowly was it
that we all in our earliest days learned how to
use the eye, and turn it into the instrument of
detecting the forms and the magnitudes and the




THROUGH DECAPOLIS.          293
distances of the objects by which we were surrounded.  But here-unless, indeed, we believe
that there was a double miracle-so soon as the
man got the full power of bodily vision, he
knew how to use it, having learnt that art before. It pleased the Saviour, however, to convey again its lost powers to the organ of the
eye step by step. There is at first a confusion
of the outward forms of things arising from
some visional defect.  That defect removed, all
was clear; and the subject of this miracle rejoiced in the exercise of a long unused and almost forgotten faculty.  It stands a solitary
kind of a cure in the bodily healings of our
Lord; but that of which it is the type is by no
means so rare.  Rather, the rare thing is
when anything like full power of spiritual perception is at once bestowed. It is but slowly
here that the lost power comes back-that the
eye opens to a true discernment of the things
of that great spiritual world of which we form a
part —sees them in their exact forms, in their
relative magnitudes, distances, proportions.
Even after the inward eye has been purged of
all those films which limit and obscure its sight,
a long, a careful, a painstaking education is required to retain it, as our bodily one in infancy




294   THE CIRCUIT THROUGH DECAPOIJ.
was trained. Nor let us wonder if along the
many stages of which this education is made up,
we often make singular discoveries of how blind
we were before to what afterwards seems clear
as day, or that the operations are often painful
by which a truer, and a deeper, and a wider
spiritual discernment is attained. It is the
blessed office of our Saviour at once to restore
to the inward eye its power, and to teach us
how to use it. Into his hands let us ever be
putting ourselves; and let us quietly and
gratefully submit to that discipline by which
our training in the exercise of all our spiritual
faculties is carried on.




XIV.
THE APOSTOLIC CONFESSION AT CAESAREAPHILIPPI.*
IN the mythology of the Greeks the worship
of Pan-their silvan deity-was always associated with shady cave or woody grotto.
The first Grecian settlers in Northern Syria
lighted there upon a spot singularly suited for
such a worship-a cave at the southern base
of Mount Hermon, and at the northeastern extremity of the valley of the Jordan. This cave
lay immediately behind a raised yet retired
nook or hollow among the hills, and immediately beneath a conical height of more than
1000 feet, rising between two of those deep
ravines which run up into the great mountain,
upon the summit of which height there now
stand the noblest ruins that the whole country
around exhibits, equal in extent, if not in
*Matt. xvi. 13-19.




296       THE APOSTOLIC CONFESSION
grandeur, to those of Heidelberg —the ruins of
the Saracen Castle of Zubeibeh. Immediately
beneath the entrance into this cave-along a
breadth of more than 100 feet-there gush
forth from among the stones a thousand bub
bling rills of water, coming from some hidden
fountain-head, and from their long dark slibterranean journey springing all joyously together into the light of day, forming at once
by their union a stream which is one of the
chief heads or sources of the Jordan. This
lively and full-born stream does instantly a
stream's best eastern work-clothes its birthplace with exuberant fertility, shadowing it
with the foliage of the ilex and the olive; covering its green swards with flowers of every
name, turning it into such a scene that, lost in
admiration, Miss Martineau declares that out
of Poussin's pictures, she never saw anything
in the least like it, while Dr. Stanley calls it a
Syrian Tivoli.
This chosen spot the first Grecian settlers
seized upon and consecrated, making the cave
Pan's sanctuary, cutting niches for the nymphs
out of the solid rock which forms the face of
the mountain side; which niches-the statues
that once occupied them gone-are still to be




AT CESAREA PHILIPPI.       297
seen there; and called the place Panias, from
the name of the deity there worshipped. The
Romans when they came did not overturn this
worship, but they added a new one. Returning to this beautiful nook, from having escorted Caesar Augustus to the sea, Herod the Great
erected a fine temple of white marble to his
great patron. One of his sons, Herod Philip,
in whose territory, as Tetrarch of Iturea and
Trachonitis, it was included, extended and embellished the town which had grown up near the
old cavern sanctuary. Thinking to change its
name, he called it Coasarea Philippi, in honor of
the Roman Emperor, with his own name added,
to distinguish it from the Coesarea of the seacoast. This new name it bore for a few generations, but the old one revived again, and still
belongs to it under the Arabic form of Banias.
It was to this Banias, or Caesarea-Philippi,
that our Lord proceeded, passing through
Bethsaida, and up along the eastern banks of
the Jordan. In that circuit already described
he may have visited it, and the attractions of
the place may have drawn him back, or this
may have been his first and only visit. It can
scarcely be believed that he came into the few
scattered villages which -lay around, and the




298       THE APOSTOLIC CONFEssIoN
remains of which are still visible, without entering Coesarea-Philippi itself. His presence
there, out of Judea, in a district covered with
tokens of heathen worship, his standing before
that cave, his gazing upon those buildings, those
niches, those inscriptions, now in ruins and defaced, but then telling, in their freshness, of
idolatries still in living power, carries Jesus further away from Judaism, and brings him into
nearer outward contact with Gentile worship
than any other position in which we see him in
the Gospel narrative. It were presumptuous in
us, where no clue is given, to imagine what the
thoughts and intents of the Saviour were; yet
when we find him going so fara'out of his way,
choosing this singular district as the place of
his temporary sojourn after all his public labors
in Galilee were over; when we reflect further
that now a new stage of his ministry was entered on, and that henceforth from teaching
the multitudes he withdrew, and gathering
his disciples around him in private, began to
speak to them as he had never done before, it
is impossible to refrain from cherishing the idea
that, surrounded now by the emblems of various faiths and worships, types of the motley
forms of superstition that had spread all over




AT CMSAREA PHIMPPI.        299
the earth, the thoughts of the Redeemer took
within their wide embrace that world whose
faith and worship he had come to purify, and
that he had, in fact, purposely chosen, as in
harmony with this epoch of his life, and the
purposes he was about to execute, the unique,
secluded, romantic district of Caesarea-P-hilippi.
He was wandering in one of its lonely roads
with his disciples, his sole companions, when he
left them for a little while to engage in solitary
prayer,* to commit himself and his great work,
as it was passing into a new stage, to his Father in heaven. On rejoining them, he put
to them the question, "Whom do men say
that I the Son of man am?"  He knew it
already, but for a further purpose he would fain
have from their lips what the gross result of
those two years' toil and teaching was-what
the ideas were about himself, his person, character, and office, which his fellow-countrymen
now generally entertained. They told himmore than one of them taking part in the reply
-that some said that he was John the Baptist;
some that he was Elias; some Jeremiah;
some, without determining which, that he was
* Luke ix. 18.




300       THE APOSTOLIC CONFESSION
one of the prophets. His own immediate followers may have got somewhat further in their
conceptions.  Listening to and believing in,
though not fully understanding, the testimony
of the Baptist, Andrew might say to his own
brother Simon, "We have found the Messias,
which is, being interpreted, the Christ;" and
Nathanael, remembering what the voice from
heaven at the baptism had been reported as
declaring, might exclaim, "Rabbi, thou art the
Son of God: thou art the. King of Israel."
Here and there, by dumb and blind men, and
Syro-Phoenician women, he might be hailed as
the Son of David, or the Son of God. On the
first impulse of their wonder at all being miraculously fed, five thousand men might be
ready in the moment to say of him, that he
was the prophet that shoul'd come into the
world. But these were the exceptions, exceptions so rare, that they seemed not to his disciples worthy of account. Amid all the variety
of impressions made upon them by the discourses and works of our Lord, the great mass
of the people in Judea and in Galilee regarded
Jesus as the Messiah's forerunner, or one of
his heralds, not as the Messiah himself. It was
the popular belief of the period, that prior to




AT C~ESAREA PHILIPPI.      301
the Messiah's advent one or other of the prophets was to rise again from the dead. This
Jesus might be he.  The Pharisees had not
succeeded in shaking the public confidence in
him as a pure and holy man, well worthy to be
counted as a prophet. But they had prevailed
in scattering the first impressions that the Baptist's ministry and his own word and deeds had
created, that he indeed was the Christ. And
now from the lips of his own followers Jesus
hears what was so well fitted to try their faith
and their Master's patience, that scarcely anywhere over all the land was there any recognition of the Messiahship of Jesus.
On getting their answer, no word of reproach
or complaint escapes the Saviour's lips. It was
not indeed on his own account. it was on theirs,
that his first question had been put. He follows it with the second and more pointed one:
"But whom say ye that I am?"  Peter, the
ever-ready answerer, replies, "Thou art the
Christ, the Son of the living God." Peter had
believed, from the beginning of his connexion
with him, that Jesus was the Christ; a faith
which had the great and acknowledged authority of the Baptist to rest on, and which was
borne up by the hope that the whole nation




302       TEE APOSTOLIC CONFESSION
would speedily accept him as such. But in the
Baptist's death, that authority has been violently shaken, and the outward and expected
support has utterly given way. Many of the
Lord's disciples have forsaken him, and looking
all around, Peter can find few now who so believe. Yet, amid all the prevailing unbelief in
and rejection of his Master, Peter's faith has
been gaining and not losing strength. Like
the inhabitants of Sychar, he believed not because of what any one had told him, but upon
the ground of what he himself had seen and
heard and known of Jesus.  " Thou art the
Christ." Such the Baptist said thou wertsuch, though thou hast never expressly put
forth the claim —such thy words and works
have been ever asserting thee to be-and such
thou truly art. Thus it is that in his good confession Peter suffers not the fickle faith and low
conceptions of the multitude to affect him.
Though he and his few companions stand alone,
with the whole. community against them, for
himself and for them he will speak out and
say, " Thou art " —not any one of those prophets, however honorable the name he bears-' Thou art the very Christ himself-the Messiah promised to our fathers."




AT CESAREA PHILIPPI.      303
But still another step, in taking which Peter
not only confronts the existing state of popular
belief as to who Jesus is, but he goes far on in
advance of the existing Jewish faith as to who
and what the Messiah was to be. "Thou art
the Christ, the Son of the living God." We
know from sufficient testimony that the Jews
universally imagined that their Messiah was to
be but a man-distinguished for his virtues and
exalted in his office, but still a man. There
has dawned on Peter's mind the idea that
Jesus the Christ is something more-something
higher. The voice from heaven had called him
the Son of God; Satan and his host had taken
up and repeated the epithet. What that title
fully meant we may not, cannot, think that
Peter now, or till long afterwards, understood;
but that it indicated some mysterious indwelling of the Divinity-some mysterious link between Jesus and the Father which raised him
high above the level of our ordinary humanity,
even when endowed with all prophetic giftshe was beginning to comprehend. Obscure
though his conceptions were, there stood embodied in his great confession a testimony to
the mingled humanity and divinity of Jesus.
In the faith which thus expressed itself Jesus




304      THE APOSTOLIC CONFESSION
saw the germ of all that living faith by which
true believers of every age were to be animated
— that faith the cherishing of which within its
bosom was to form the very life and strength
of the community, the Church, which he was to
gather out from among the nations-the fruit
of God's own work within human souls. Seeing this, and being so far satisfied-rejoicing in
the assurance that whatever other men might
think or say of him, there were even now some
human spirits within which he had got a hold,
that nothing could shake, against which nothing
would prevail-he turns to Peter and he says,
"Blessed art thou, Simon Bar-jona."  Simon
Bar-jona! —the very way in which he named
him preparing us for words of weighty import
being about to be addressed to him. Simon
Bar-jona, blessed art thou! I know not if
Jesus Christ ever pronounced such a special
individual blessing on any other single man;
and when we hear one of our race called blessed by him who knows so well wherein the best
and highest happiness of our nature consists,
our ear opens wide to catch the reason given
for such a benediction being pronounced.
"Blessed art thou, Simon Bar-jona, for flesh
and blood hath not revealed it unto thee, but




AT CIESAREA PHILIPPI.     305
my Father which is in heaven."  Thine own
eye hath not seen it, thine own ear hath not
heard it-it hath not come to thee by any ordinary channel from without-it is not due alone
to an exercise of thine own spirit within. Faint
though the light be that has gleamed in upon
thy soul, and lighted up thy faith —faint as the
feeblest glimmer of the morn-it is a light from
heaven, a dawn giving promise of a bright and
cloudless day. It hath come to thee as a revelation from the great Father of Spirits to thy
spirit, Simon Bar-jona; and therefore a blessed
man art thou! And blessed still in the Saviour's judgment-blessed beyond all that this
world has in it of blessedness to bestow-is he
upon whose darkened mind and heart the faintest rays of that same heavenly light have shone
-the God who commanded the light to shine
out of the darkness, shining in upon his soul,
giving him the light of the true knowledge of
God in Christ his Saviour!
"And I say also unto thee "-Thou hast
said to me, "Thou art the Christ," and hast
shown that thou knowest what is the true
meaning of the word, so now say I unto thee,
" Thou art Peter;" the name of my own giving, the fitness of whose application to thee




306      THE APOSTOLIC CONFESSION
thou art even now justifying in thy prompt
and bold confession, in thy full and resolute
faith, in thy firm and immovable adhesion to
me, despite of all that men think and say of
me. Thou art a true Petros-a living stone
built upon me, the true Petra, the living and
eternal rock-the only sure foundation in which
you and all may build their trust and hopes.
And upon thee, as such a stone resting on such
a rock, as having so genuine and strong a faith
in me as Son of Man and Son of God, I will
build my Church. Because of this thine early,
full, and heaven-implanted faith, thou shalt be
honored as one of the first foundation-stones
on which my Church shall be erected. That
Church shall be the congregation of men who
share thy faith-who all are Peters like thyself
-all living stones built upon me as the chief
corner-stone; and in a sense, too, built upon
thee; on prophets and apostles as laid by me
and on me, to form the basis of the great spiritual edifice-the Temple of the Church.
But if the Church was to consist of those who
believed in Jesus as Peter did, where was the
promise that it should number many within its
embrace? What the security that it should
have any firm or lasting hold? Was Jesius




AT C(ESAREA PHILIPPI.     307
not at this moment a wanderer-despised and
rejected-driven forth from among his ownsurrounded in this place of his voluntary exile
among the Gentiles by a few poor fishermen?
Where was the earthly hope that the circle of
true believers in him should widen? What
the prospect that if it did, it could hold its
ground against all the gathered enmity that
was rising to pour itself out against it? Calmly
out of the midst of all these unpropitious and
unpromising appearances, the words issue from
the lips of Jesus, " I will build my church,
and the gates of hell shall not prevail against
it." The history of eighteen centuries has confirmed the truth of the saying. So long has
this society of Christian men existed; and
though it has done much to provoke hostility,
and been often very unmindful of the spirit and
will of him whose name it bears, yet all that
power and policy, the wiliest intrigues and the
fiercest persecution could do against it, have
been done in vain.
This is the first occasion on which Jesus used
that word-the Church; and he named it in his
own lifetime but once again. He did everything to lay the true and only foundation of
that Church; but he did almost nothing with




308      THE APOSTOLIC CONFESSION
his own hand to direct or organize it. Apart
from his selecting twelve men to be his personal
associates, his institution of the office of the
apostolate, which there are but few who regard
as an integral and perpetual part of the Church's
organization-apart from that, and his appointment of the two sacraments, Jesus may be said
to have done nothing towards the incorporation
of those attached to him into an external institute. Even here, when he goes to address a
few words of encouragement to Peter, upon
whom so important services in this department
were to devolve, he speaks not of the present
but of the future:-" I will give unto thee the
keys of the kingdom of heaven."  When that
time comes at which, on the great day of Pentecost, the first admissions into my Church by baptism shall take place, then know that the keys
of my kingdom are in thine hand, and that thou
mayest use them in the full assurance that thou
art not acting without a due warrant. Keys
are the badges of authority and power and
trust, bestowed as the symbols of the office on
ministers or ambassadors, secretaries or treasurers of kingdoms; on whom the duty lies of
admitting to, or excluding from, the privileges
and benefits of the commonwealth, disposing or




AT CASAREA PHILIPPI.      309
withdrawing the royal bounties and favor.
Such keys-in a manner appropriate to the
kind of commonwealth the Church is —Jesus
here commits to Peter, as one of the first and
greatest of its office-bearers. In the use of any
such authority and power as had been given
him within the Church-in admitting to or excluding from its privileges-in taking his part
in the baptism of the three thousand on the day
of Pentecost —in condemning Ananias and Sapphira —in censuring Simon Magus —in opening
the door to take in the Gentile converts, and
presiding at the baptisms in the household of
Cornelius-Peter might be weighed down by
the sense of the feebleness of the instrument
he was using, the smallness of the effects that
it could produce. To comfort and encourage
him in the use of the keys when they came to
be employed by him, Jesus adds, "Whatsoever
thou shalt bind on earth shall be bound in
heaven, and whatsoever thou shalt loose on
earth shall be loosed in heaven." Act but in
the right spirit-follow out the directions given
— let the law of truth and love but regulate
your doings-and you may rest assured that
doings of yours on earth shall be approved and
ratified in heaven. So far, and no farther, as




310      THE APOSTOLIC CONFESSION
it seems to us, do the words of our Saviour, as
addressed to Peter, go. You are aware that
it is upon these words-and upon them almost
exclusively, for there is no other passage of
anything of a like import in the evangelic narrative-the Church of Rome claims for St. Peter and his alleged successors in the See of
Rome a primacy or popedom over the universal Church of Christ. Upon this claim, so fat
as it is attempted to be erected upon this pas.
sage, I have to remark:
1. It is singular that of the three Evangelists who have recorded our Lord's question to
the apostles, and St. Peter's reply, St. Matthew
is the only on-e who has added that which Jesus
said to him after his good confession had been
made. Had our Lord's object in putting the
question been to elicit the confession in order
thereupon to confer certain peculiar honors
and privileges upon St. Peter above all the
other twelve, would St. Mark and St. Luke
have stopped short as they do at the confession,
and said not a word about Peter and the rock
-the keys and the kingdom? It is quite true
that in many a narrative two of the Evangelists
omit what the third has recorded; but it is
never true, as it would be true here if the Ro



AT C(ESAREA PHILIPPI.      311
man Catholic interpretation of the passage be
adopted, that all three give the initial or introductory part of a narrative, but that one alone
supplies that in which the main scope and object of the whole consists.
2. The claim for a primacy of authority over
the other apostles, put forward on behalf of St
Peter, rests on the assumption that he, and he
exclusively, is the rock upon which the Church
is said to rest. I will only say that as a mere
matter of exegesis-i.e., of interpretation of
words-it is extremely difficult to say precisely
what the rock was to which Christ alluded.
From the beginning, from Jerome and Origen
down to our own times, there has been the
greatest diversity of opinion. Did Jesus mean
to say that Peter himself —individually and
peculiarly —was the rock? or was it the confession that he had just made, or was it the
faith to which he had given expression, or was
Jesus pointing to himself when he spoke of this
rock, as he did elsewhere when he spake of
this temple-this shrine-in reference to himself? I have already offered the explanation
that appears to me the most simple and natural, as flowing not so much out of a critical examination of the words as out of a considera



312      THE APOSTOLIC CONFESSION
tion of the peculiar circumstances and conditions under which the words were spoken; but
I cannot say that I have offered that explanation without considerable hesitation-a hesitation mainly arising from the fact which does
not appear in our English version, that Jesus
used two different words-Petros and Petra-in
speaking as he did to the Apostle. A claim which
rests upon so ambiguous a declaration can
scarcely be regarded as entitled to our support.
3. Whatever ambiguity there may be now
to us, there could have been no such ambiguity
in the words of Christ to those who heard them.
They must have known whether or not Jesus
meant to designate Peter as the rock-to elevate him to a peculiar and exalted position
above his brethren. And yet we find that
three times after this the dispute arises among
them which should be the greatest-.a dispute
which never could have arisen had Jesus already openly and distinctly assigned the primacy to St. Peter-and a dispute, we may add,
which never would have been settled as Jesus
in each case settled it, had any such primacy
been ever intended to be conveyed by him.
4. Even admitting that all that is said here
was said personally and peculiarly of Peter,




AT CAISAREA PHTLIPPI.       313
where is the warrant to extend it to his suc.
cessors?  If his associates-his fellow-apostles
-be excluded, how can his successors be embraced? It is ingeniously said here by Romanists that if St. Peter be the foundation of
the Church, then as that foundation must abide,
there ever must be one to take his place and
keep up as it were the continuity of the basis
of the building. But this is to have, not one
stone as the foundation, but a series of stones
laid alongside or upon one another, and where
is there a hint of such a thing?
Fifthly, and chiefly. All that is said here to
Peter was said twice afterwards by Christ to
all the twelve and to all the Church. You
have but to turn to the 18th chapter of St.
Matthew, and read there from the 18th to the
19th verse, and to the Gospel of St. John, and
read there in the 20th chapter, from the 19th
to the 23d verse, to be fully satisfied that, put
what interpretation you may upon the words
spoken at Caesarea-Philippi to St. Peter, they
conveyed to him no power or privilege beyond
that which Jesus conferred upon the entire
college of the apostles, and in its collective
capacity upon the Church.*
* See The Forty Days aJter our Lord's Resurrection, pp. 108-114.




xV.
THE REBUKE OF SAINT PETER.*
JESUS had tested the faith of the Apostles.
Their reply to his pointed interrogation,
"But whom say ye that I am?" was so far
satisfactory. They had not been influenced
either by the hostility of the Pharisees or the
low and unworthy imaginations of the people.
They were ready to acknowledge the Messiahship of their Master, such as they understood
it to be, and had risen even to some dim coliception of his divinity. They were all ready
to adopt the declaration of their spokesman as
the expression of their faith, "Thou art the
Christ, the Son of the living God."
But in this faith of theirs there was one great
and fatal defect. Neither they, nor ally of
their countrymen of that age, had associated
* Matt. xvi. 21-28; Mark viii. 31-38; ix. 1; Luke ix. 22-27.




THE REBUKE OF ST. PETER.     315
with the advent of their Messiah any idea of
humiliation, rejection, suffering unto death.
Obscure he might be in his first appearances,
and difficult of recognition; obstacles of various kinds might be thrown in his path, over
which he might have laboriously to climb; but
sooner or later the discovery of who and what
he was would burst upon the people, and by
general acclaim he would be exalted to his
destined lordship over Israel. One, coming
unto his own, and by his own received not;
asking not, and getting not, any honor from
men; walking in lowliness all his days; a man
of many and deeply-hidden griefs, misunderstood by the great mass of the people, despised
and rejected by their rulers, taken, at last, to
be judged and condemned as a deceiver of the
people, a vilifier of Moses, a blasphemer
against God; crucified, at last, as a malefactorit had never entered into their thoughts that
such a one could be their Messiah. He might
suffer somewhat, perhaps, at the hands of his
own and Israel's enemies; possibly he might
have to submit to death, the common lot of
all men; but that he should suffer at the hands
of the very people over whom he came to reign,
and that by their hands he should be put to




316            THE REBUKE
death-no throne erected, and no kingdom
won-this was not only alien from, it was utterly contradictory to, their conceptions and
their belief. Yet all this was true: and from
their earlier and false ideas the disciples had to
be weaned.
Jesus did this gradually. At first, during all
his previous converse with them while engaged
in his public labors in Judea and Galilee, he
had carefully abstained from saying anything
about his approaching sufferings and death.
Not that these were either unforeseen or forgotten by him. When alone in the midnight
interview  with Nicodemus, he could speak
plainly of his being lifted up upon the cross as
the brazen serpent had been upon the pole in
the wilderness, that whosoever looked upon
him believingly might be saved. To the people of Judea and Galilee he could drop hints,
which, however obscure to his hearers, tell us
of a full knowledge and foresight on his part
of all that awaited him. He could point to his
body as to the temple, which, though destroyed,
in three days he should raise up again. He
could tell his Galilean audience the sign that
was to be given to that generation-that as
Jonah was three days and three nights in the




OF ST. PETER.           317
whale's belly, the Son of man should be three
days and three nights in the heart of the earth.
But never till now, in any of his private conversations with his disciples, had he alluded to
this topic. He had allowed them to take off
the natural and full impression which his teaching and miracle-working, and the whole tenor
of his life and conversation, was fitted to make
upon open, honest, devout-minded men. Their
knowledge of him, their faith in him, he had
left to grow, till now —as represented in the
confession of St. Peter-it seemed strong
enough to bear some pressure. They might
now be told what it had been out of time to
tell them earlier. And if they were to be told
at all beforehand of the dark and tragic close,
it would seem to be the very best and most fitting occasion to begin, at least, to make the
disclosure to them now, when our Lord himself,
ceasing from his public ministry, had sought
these few days' quiet in the neighborhood of
Caesarea-Philippi, that his own thoughts might
be turned to all that awaited him when he
went up to Jerusalem. " From that time forth
began Jesus to show unto his disciples how he
must go unto Jerusalem, and suffer many
things of the elders and chief priests and scribes,




318             THE REBUKE
and be killed, and be raised again the third
day." A few days after this, as they descended
from  the  Mount of Transfiguration, Jesus
charged Peter and James and John, saying,
"Tell the vision to no man till the Son of man
be risen from the dead."  A few days later,
while they were still in Galilee, passing through
it so privately that it evidenced a desire that
no man should know it,* Jesus said to his disciples, " Let these sayings sink down into your
hearts, for the Son of man shall be betrayed
into the hands of men, and they shall kill him,
and the third day he shall be raised again."
After the raising of Lazarus there was a brief
retreat to Peraea, till the time of the last Passover drew on. There was something very peculiar in the whole manner and bearing of our
Lord when, leaving this retreat, he set forth on
his final journey to Jerusalem.  He stepped
forth before his disciples, "and they were
amazed, and as they followed they were afraid."
It was while they were on the way thus going
up to Jerusalem that he took the twelve apart,
and said to them, " Behold, we go up to Jerusalem, and all things that are written by the
* Mark ix. 30.




OF ST. PETER.           819
prophets concerning the Son of man shall be
accomplished; for he shall be betrayed unto
the chief priests and unto the scribes, and they
shall condemn him to death, and shall deliver
him to the Gentiles, and they shall mock, and
shall scourge, and shall spit upon, and shall crucify him, and the third day he shall rise again."*
It thus appears that four times at least before
the event-thrice in Galilee and once in Peroaa
-Jesus foretold with growing minuteness of
detail his passion and death; specifying the
place-Jerusalem; the time —the approaching
Passover; the agents-the chief priests, scribes,
and Gentiles; the course of procedure —his betrayal into the hands of the Jewish authorities,
his delivery by them into the hands of the Gentiles; the manner of his death —crucifixion under
a judicial sentence; some of the accompanying
circumstances-the scourging, the mocking, the
spitting. Any one placed in the position of
Jesus-seeing the rising tide of bitter enmity,
and knowing the goal at which it aimed-might
have conjectured thlat nothing short of the death
of their victim would appease the wrath of his
enemies.  But what mere human foresight
*Matt. xx. 17-19; Mark x 32-34; Luke xviii. 3134,




320            TEE REBUKE
could have foretold, at Coasarea-Philippi, that,
Herod would not anticipate sacerdotal party,
and seize upon Jesus on his way through Galilee, and crown the Baptist's murder by that of
his successor?  What mere human foresight
could have foretold that after so many previous attempts and failures, the one at the next
Passover season would succeed; that Jesus
would not perish, as Stephen did, in a tumultuous outbreak; that all the formalities of a trial
and condemnation would be gone through, and
death by crucifixion be the result? Nor will it
help to furnish us with any natural explanation
of these foretellings of his sufferings and death
by Jesus, to say that he gathered them from
the prophecies of the Old Testament, with which
we know him to have been familiar, and to
which, indeed, even in these foretellings, he
pointed; for, much as those prophecies did
convey, they fell far short of that particularity
which characterizes the sayings of our Lord.
Receiving the account of the evangelists as
genuine and true, we are shut up to the
conclusion that in regard to his passion and
death Jesus manifested beforehand a foreknowledge proper only to him who knows
all ends from their beginnings; and that still




OF ST. PETER.            321
more was this the case as to his resurrection,
which he predicted still oftener, and could not
have predicted in plainer or less ambiguous
terms.
It may for a moment appear strange that the
disciples were so taken by surprise when the
death and the resurrection of their Master actually took place. How could this be, we are
apt to ask ourselves, after such distinct and unambiguous declarations as those which we have
quoted? Let us remember, however, that the
same authority which instructs us that these
predictions were uttered, informs us that they
were not understood by those to whom they
were in the first instance addressed. " They
understood not the saying, and it was hid from
them, and they feared to ask him."* And
they kept that saying with themselves, questioning one with another what the rising from
the dead should mean."t The words of Jesus
were in themselves easy enough to understand;
but was it figuratively or literally they were to
be taken?  We can scarcely judge aright of
the perplexity into which so unexpected an announcement must have thrown the disciples at
* Luke ix. 45.               t Mark ix. 10,




322             THE REBUKE
this stage of their acquaintance with Christ,
nor understand how natural it was that they
should explain them away. We so often see
them, with other and less difficult subjects, taking what he meant literally as if it were figuratively spoken, and what he meant figuratively
as if it were to be literally understood-that it
takes the edge off our wonder that in this instance the disciples should have hesitated how
to take the words that they had heard. The
expression, "rising from the dead," the one
that appears to have perplexed them the most,
appears to us one of the simplest. Yet, when
we put ourselves exactly in their position, we
begin to see that they had more ground for
their perplexity than is at first apparent. A
raising from the dead was what they had themselves witnessed. In the general resurrection
of the dead they believed. There was nothing,
therefore, creating any difficulty in the way of
their understanding the mere literal signification
of the phrase-rising from  the dead. But the
resurrection of Jesus-what could it mean? It
could not be his sharing in the general resurrection of all the dead that he was speaking of.
But was he to die and to rise and to remain
risen? or to die and to rise and to die again?




OF ST. PETER.           323
He could raise others from the dead, but if he
were to die, who was to raise him? Need we
be surprised if, with their notions of who and
what their Messiah was to be, the disciples
should at times have believed that it was of
some spiritual death and resurrection-some
sinking into the grave and rising again of his
cause and kingdom-that Jesus spoke?
At first, indeed, and before any time for reflecting upon it is given, St. Peter seizes upon
the natural meaning of the words that he had
heard, and interprets them generally as predicting suffering and death to his Master, and, offended at the very thought of a future so different from the one that they all had anticipated,
in the heat of his surprise and indignation,
buoyed up, no doubt, by the praise that had
just been bestowed upon him, he forgets himself so far as actually to lay hold by arm or
garment of our Lord, and in the spirit of a patron, or protector, he begins to rebuke him,
saying, "Be it far from thee, Lord: this shall
not be unto thee." Kindliness in the act and
speech; a strong interest in Christ's mere personal welfare-but.ignorance and presumption
too; forgetfulness of the distance that separated him from Jesus, and a profound insensi.




324            THE REBUKE
bility to the higher spiritual designs which the
sufferings and death of Jesus were to be the
means of accomplishing. Now let us mark the
manner in which this interference is regarded
and treated by Christ. He turns about-he
looses himself from the too familiar hold-he
looks on his disciples as if craving their special
notice of what he was about to say and doand by that look having engaged their fixed
regard, he says to Peter, "Get thee behind me,
Satan; thou art an offence to me." What was
the secret of the quickness, the sharpness, the
stern severity of this rebuke?  Why was it
that, for the moment, the Apostle disappeared
as it were from the Saviour's view, and Satan,
the arch-tempter, took his place?  Why was it
that the very word which our Lord had applied
to Satan in the last and greatest of the temptations of the wilderness, is here used again, as if
the great tempter had reappeared and renewed
his solicitation? It was because he found the
feet of Peter had actually stepped upon the
very ground that Satan, in his great temptation
of our Saviour, had occupied. Take all the
kingdoms of the world-such had been the
bribe held out-take them now —save thyself
all the toil, the agony-let the cup pass from




OF ST. PETER.           325
thee-step into the throne without touching or
tasting the bitterness of the cross. Promptly,
indignantly, was this temptation repelled in the
wilderness; and when it reappears in the language of his Apostle, "Be it far from thee:
this shall not be unto thee "-when once again
he is tempted to shrink from the sufferings and
the death in store for him-as promptly and
as indignantly is it again repelled, Peter being
regarded as personating Satan in making it,
and addressed even as the great tempter had
been.
What a difference between the two sayings,
uttered within a few minutes of each other!
"Blessed art thou, Simon Bar-jona: for flesh
and blood hath not revealed it unto thee, but
my Father which is in heaven."  "Get thee
behind me, Satan: thou art an offence" —or,
as the word means, thou art a stumbling-stone,
a rock of offence-" unto me."  Can it be the
same man to whom words of such different import are addressed? Yes, the same man in
two quickly succeeding states. Now (to the
eye which seeth in secret) he appears as one
whose mind the Father hath enlightened, now
as one whose heart Satan has filled and occupied; now the object of praise and blessing,




'326            THE REBUKE
now of censure and pungent rebuke. And
does not this changing Peter, with those two
opposite sides of his character turned so rapidly
to Christ, stand a type and emblem of our weak
humanity? of the ductile nature that is in the
best of the followers of our Lord? of the quick
transitions that so often take place within us?
our souls now shone upon by the light from
Heaven, now lit up with fires of another kindling? What lessons of humility and charity
do such experiences in the history of the best
of men inculcate!
Peter must have been greatly surprised when,
shaken off by Jesus, he was spoken to as if he
were the arch-fiend himself. Unconscious of
anything but kindly feelings to his Master, he
would be at a loss at first to know what sinful,
satanic element there had been in the sentiments he had been cherishing-the words that
he had used. It might at once occur to him
that he had been too familiar-had used too
much liberty with him whom he had just acknowledged to be the Christ, the Son of the
living God. But it could surely not be simply
and solely because of his being offended at the
freedom taken, that Jesus had spoken to him
as he did. Some light may have been thrown




OF ST. PETER.          327
upon the matter, even to Peter's apprehension
at the time, by our Lord's own explanatory
words: "Get thee behind me, Satan: for thou
savorest not the things that be of God, but
the things that be of men." There were two
ways of looking upon those sufferings and
death, of which, now for the first time, Jesus
had begun to speak —the selfish, earthly, human one, and the spiritual, the divine. Peter
was thinking of them solely under the one aspect, thinking of them in their bearing alone
upon the personal comfort, the outward estate
and condition, of his Lord. He would have
Jesus avoid them. He himself would stand
between them and his Master, and not suffer
them to come upon him; inflicting, as he imagined they would do, such great discredit and
dishonor upon his name and cause. But he
knew not, or forgot, that it was for this end
that Jesus came into the world, to suffer and
die for sinners; that the cup could not pass
from him. the cross could not be avoided, without prophecies being left unfulfilled, purposes
of God left unaccomplished, the sin of man left
unatoned for, the salvation of mankind left unsecured. He knew not, or forgot, that he was
bringing to bear upon the humanity of our




328             THE REBUKE
Lord one of the strongest and subtlest of all
the trials to which it was to be exposed, when
in prospect of that untold weight of sorrow
which was to be laid upon it in the garden and
upon the cross, the instincts of nature taught it
to shrink therefrom, to desire and to pray for
exemption.
It was the quick and tender sense our Lord
had of the peculiarity and force of this temptation, rather than his sense of singularity and
depth of Peter's sinfulness, which prompted
and pointed his reproof. At the same time he
desired to let Peter know that the way of
looking at things, in which he had been indulging, had in it that earthly, carnal element
which condemned it in his sight. Nay, more;
he would seize upon the opportunity now presented, to proclaim once more, as he had so
often done, that not in his own case alone, but
in the case of all his true and faithful followers,
suffering, self-denial, self-sacrifice, must be undergone. He had noticed the approach of a
number of the people who had assembled at
the sight of Jesus and his apostles passing by
their dwellings. These he called to him,* as
* Mark viii. 34.




OF ST. PETER.            329
if wishing to intimate that what he had now to
say, though springing out of what had occurred,
and addressed in the first instance to the
twelve, was yet meant for all-was to be taken
up and repeated, and spread abroad, as addressed to the wide world of mankind. If any
man, he said,-whosoever, whatsoever he bewill come after me, be a follower of me, not
nominally, but really, let him deny himself, and
take up his cross daily, and follow me. No
other way there was for me, your Redeemer,
your forerunner, than by taking up the Cross
appointed, and on that Cross bearing your
transgressions: and no other way for you to
follow me, than by each of you voluntarily and
daily taking up that cross which consists in the
repudiation of self-indulgence as the principle
and spirit of your life, in the willing acceptance
of self-denial as the fixed condition of the new
life's growth and progress in your souls, in the
crucifying of every sinful affection and desire.
"For whosoever will save his life shall lose it;
but whosoever shall lose his life for my sake
and the gospei's shall save it." Let it be your
main, supreme, engrossing object, to save your
life; to guard yourself against its ills, to secure
its benefits, its weatlh, its honors, its enjoy



O30O            THIE PtEBUKE
mennts —the end shall be that the very thing
you seek to save you certainly shall lose. But
if from a supreme love to Christ, and a predominating desire to please him, you are willing to lose life, to give up anything which he
<alls you to give up, the end shall be that the
very thing that you were ready to lose, you
shall at last and most fully gain. For take it
even as a mere matter of profit and loss-but
weigh aright what is thrown into the scale,
when you are balancing earthly and eternal interests-" What is a mall profited if lie gain the
whole world?"  No man ever did so; but
suppose he did, imagine that one way or other
the very whole, the sum total that this world,
-its pursuits, its possessions, its enjoyments,
can do to make one happy, were grasped by
one single pair of arms into one single bosom,
would it profit him, would he be a gainer if,
when the great balance was struck, it should be
found-that in gaining the whole world he had
lost his own soul? that it had been lost to God
and to all its higher duties, and so lost to happiness and lost forever?  For if a man once
lose his soul, where shall he find an equivalent
in value for it? where shall he find that by
which it can be redeemed or bought again;




OF ST. PETER.           331
what shall he find or give in exchange for his
soul? Too true, alas! it is, that, clear though
this simplest of all questions of profit and loss
be, many will not work it out, or apply it to
their own case, content to grasp what is nearest, the present, the sensible, the earthly, and
to overlook the more remote, the unseen, the
spiritual, the eternal. Too true that what hinders many from a hearty and full embrace of
Christ and all the blessings -of his salvation, is a
desire to go with the multitude; a shrinking,
through shame, from anything that would separate them from the world. Would that upon
the ears of such tire solemn words of our Lord
might fall with power-" Whosoever shall be
ashamed of me, and of my words, of him shall
the Son of man be ashamed, when he shall come
in his own glory, and in his Father's, and of
the holy angels."*  And at that coming, when
the earth and the heavens shall pass away, in4
we shall find ourselves standing before the
great white throne, and in the presence of that
vast community of holy beings, what will it
look then to have' been ashamed of Jesus now?
What will it be then to find him ashamed of us,
disowning us?
Luke i. 2fi.




332            THE REBUKE
How strangely must this about the Son of
man so coming with power and great glory,
hlave sounded in the ears of those who had just
been listening to him as he told how that he
must suffer many things, and be killed and be
raised again the third day! Beyond that time
of dishonor and suffering and death, predicted
as so near, here was another advent of the
Son of man, around which every circumstance of
glory and honor was to be thrown. But when
was that advent to be realized? Of the day
and the hour of its coming no man was to
know; but this much about it Jesus might
even now reveal, that there were some standing then before him who should not taste of
death till they saw the kingdom of God set up,
till they saw Jesus coming in his kingdom. It
could not be of his personal and final advent
to judgment that Jesus meant here to speak,
for that was not to occur within the lifetime of
any of that generation. Those, besides, who
were to be alive and to be witnesses of that
advent were never to taste of death. Jesus
could only mean to speak of such a visible institution of his kingdom as should carry with
it a prelude and prophecy of the great consummation. As it is now known that of the




OF ST. PETER.          333
twelve apostles John and Philip alone survived the great catastrophe of the destruction
of Jerusalem, when the Judaic economy which
Christ's kingdom was meant to supersede
was set aside, it has been generally believed
that it was to that particular epoch or event
that Jesus here referred.  If we reflect,
however, that it was to the general audience
by whom he was at the time surrounded, and
not exclusively to the twelve, that Jesus addressed these words, we may be the more disposed to believe that it was to the general fact
of the open establishment of his kingdom upon
earth-that kingdom which was erected on the
day of Pentecost, and which came forth more
conspicuously into notice when the Jewish ceremonial expired, and it took its place-that
our Saviour alluded. Some of those to whom
Jesus was speaking at Caesarea-Philippi were
to witness the setting up of this kingdom within the souls of men, and in its setting were to
behold the visible pledge that he would come
again the second time, to bring the present
economy of things to its close.
Let us apply the saying of our Lord in this
way to ourselves. He has a kingdom, not distinguished now by any tokens of external splen



334     THE REBUKE OF ST. PETERI
dor-his kingdom  within the soul.  Before
we taste of death we may, we ought, to know
that kingdom, to enter into it, be enrolled as
its subjects, be partakers of its privileges and
blessings. And if so by faith we see and own
our Lord, yielding ourselves up to him as the
Christ, the Son of the living God, who has
come in the name of the Lord to save us, then
when we close our eyes in death, we may do so
in the humble confidence that when he comes
in his own glory, and the glory of the Father,
and the glory of the holy angels, we shall not
be ashamed before him at his coming, and he
shall not be ashamed of us, but shall welcome
us into that kingdom which shall never be
moved, whose glory and whose blessedness
shall be full, unchangeable, eternal.




xVI.
THE TRANSFIGURATION.*
SIX days elasped after our Lord's first foretelling of his approaching death.  These
days were spent in the region of Casarea-Philippi, and appear to have passed without the
occurrence of any noticeable event; days, however, they undoubtedly would be of great perplexity and sadness to the disciples. They had
so far modified their first beliefs and expectations, that they were ready to cleave to their
Master in the midst of prevalent misconception
and enmity.  But this new and strange announcement that he must go up to Jerusalem,
not only to be rejected of the elders and chief
priests and scribes, but to be put to death and
raised again the third day, has disturbed their
* Matt xvii. 1-13; Mark ix. 2-13; Luke ix. 28-36.




336      THE TRNSFIGURATION.
faith, and filled their hearts with sorrowful anxieties-a disturbance and anxiety chiefly, we
may believe, experienced by those three of the
twelve already admitted by Jesus to more intimate fellowship and confidence. The six days
over, bringing no relief, Jesus takes these three
"up into a high mountain apart."
Standing upon the height which overlooks
Caesarea-Philippi, I looked around upon the
towering ridges which Great Hermon, the
Sheikh of the Mountains, as the Arabs call it,
projects into the plain. Full of the thought
that one of these summits on which I gazed had
in all probability witnessed the Transfiguration,
I had fixed upon one of them which, from its
peculiar position, form, and elevation, might
aptly be spoken of as a " high mountain apart,"
when casting my eye casually down along its
sides as they sloped into the valley, the remains
of three ancient villages appeared dotting the
base. I remembered how instantly on the descent from the mountain Jesus had found himself in the midst of his disciples and of the multitude, and was pleased at observing that the
mountain-top I had fixed upon met all the requirements of the Gospel narrative. If that
were, indeed, the mountain-top up to which




THE TRANSFIGURATION.       337
Jesus went, he never stood so high above the
level of the familiar lake, nor did his eye ever
sweep so broadly the hills of Galilee. Whichever the mountain was, the shades of evening
were falling as Jesus climbed its sides.  He
loved, we know, the stillness of the night, the
solitude of the mountain. He sought them for
the purposes of devotion-in the loneliness, the
calmness, the elevation, finding something in
harmony with prayer.  Generally, however,
on such occasions he was alone.  He either
sent his disciples away, or managed to separate
himself from their society. Now, however, as
anticipating what was about to happen, he takes
with him Peter and James and John, the destined witnesses of his humiliation and agony in
the garden. The sun sinks in the west beneath
the waters of the Great Sea as the top of the
mountain is reached. Night begins to draw
its mantle round them, wrapping in obscurity
the world below. Jesus begins to pray. The
three who rest a little space away from him
would join in his devotions, but wearied with
the ascent, less capable of resisting the corningon of night and the pressure of fatigue, their
eyes grow heavy till they close in sleep-the
last sight they rest on, that sombre figure of




~38         THE TRANSFIGTJRATION.
their Master; the last sound on their listening
ear, the gentle murmur of his ascending
prayers. From this sleep they waken, not at
the gentle touch of the morning light, not to
look down upon the plain below, seen under
the beams of the rising day: with stroke of
awakening power, a bright, effulgent radiance
has fallen upon their eyelids, and as they lift
them up, while all is dark below, the mountaintop is crowned with light, and there before
them now there are three forms: their Master
-" the fashion of his countenance altered"his face shining as the sun-lit up, not alone,
as the face of Moses once was, by the lingering
reflection of the outward glory upon which it
had gazed, but illumined from within, as if the
hidden glory were bursting through the fleshy
veil and kindling it into radiance as it passed
-his raiment shining, bright as the glistening
snow that lay far above them upon the highest
top of Hermon-exceeding white, so as no fuller on earth could whiten them; and beside
him, appearing, too, in glory, yet in glory not
like his-dimmer and less radiant-their forms,
their attitudes, their words all showing that
they caine to wait on him and do him homage
-Moses the Lawgiver, and Elijah the Reformer




THE TRANSFIGURATION.      339
or Restorer of the Jewish theocracy. Whence
came they? In what form did they now appear? How came Peter and James and John
at once to recognize them? They came from
the world of the dead, the region that departed
spirits occupy. Elijah did not need to borrow
for this occasion his old human form. He had
carried that with him ill the chariot of fire-the
corruptible then changed into the incorruptible
— the mortal having then put on immortality;
and now in that transfigured body he stands
beside the transfigured form of Jesus. Moses
had died, indeed, and was once buried; but no
man knew where nor how, nor can any man
now tell us in what bodily or material shape it
was that he now appeared, nor what there was
if anything about the external appearance
either of him or of Elijah which helped the apostles to the recognition. In some way unknown
the recognition came. It was given them to
know who these two shining strangers were.
It was given them to listen to and so far to understand the converse they were holding with
Jesus as to know that they were speaking to
him about the decease he was to accomplish at
Jerusalem.  But it was not given to them
either immediately or any time thereafter to re



34_0       lE'I&N'rF1GUna c.lN.
port, perhaps even to remember, the words
they heard.  We must remain content with
knowing nothing more about that conversation
-— which, whether we think of the occasion, or
the speakers, or the subject-matter, appears to
us as the sublimest ever held on earth-than
generally what its topic was.
But of what great moment even that information is we shall presently have to speak.
Their mysterious discourse with Jesus over,
Moses and Elias make a movement to retire.
Peter will not let them go-will detain them if
he can. He might not have broken in upon
his Master while engaged in converse with
them, but now that they seem about to withdraw, in the fullness of his ecstatic delight, with
a strong wish to detain the strangers, a dim
sense that they were in an exposed and shelterless place, and a very vain imagination that the
affording of some better protection might perhaps induce them to stay, and that if they did
they might all take up their permanent dwelling here together, he cannot but exclaim,
"Master, it is good for us to be here: and let
us make three tabernacles (three arbors or forest tents of the boughs of the neighboring
trees;) one for thee, and one for Moses, and




THE TRANSFIGURATION.       341
one for Elias." Not knowing what he said,
the words are just passing from his babbling
lips, when the eye that follows the retreating
figures is filled with another and a brighter
light. A cloud comes down upon the mountain-top-a cloud of brightness —a cloud which,
unfolding its hidden treasures, pours a radiance
down upon the scene that throws even the
form of the Redeemer into shadow, and in the
darkness of whose excessive light the forms of
Moses and Elias sink away and disappear.
This cloud is no other than the Shekinah, the
symbol of Jehovah's gracious presence. From
the midst of its excellent glory, there comes
the voice, "This is my beloved Son, in whom I
am well pleased; hear ye him,"-not Moses,
nor Elias, nor any other lawgiver, nor any
other prophet,-but hear ye him. As the
apostles hear that voice they are sore afraid;
the strength goes out of them, and they fall
with their faces to the ground. Jesus comes,
touches them. The touch restores their strengh.
He says, "Arise, and be not afraid."  They
spring up; they look around. The voices
have ceased, the forms have vanished, the
glory is gone; they are alone with Jesus as at
the first.




342         THE TRANSFIGURATION.
Such as we have now recited them were the
incidents of the Transfiguration. Let us consider now its scope and design. In the shaded
history of the man of sorrows, this one passage
stands out so unique-a single outburst of light
and glory on the long track of darkness-that
we look at it with the most intense curiosity;
and as we look the questions start to our lips,
Why was it that for that one brief season the
brow that was to be crowned with thorns was
crowned with glory, the countenance that was
to be marred and spit upon shone as the sun,
the raiment that was to be stripped off and divided among foreign soldiers became so bright
and glistering? Why was it that he who ere
long was to be seen hanging up to die between
the two malefactors, was now and thus to be
seen, with Moses and Elias standing by his side
paying to him the most profound obeisance?
Why did that clouded glory come down and
glide across the mountain-top, and that voice
of the Infinite Majesty speak forth its awful
and authoritative, yet instructive and encouraging words? In answer to these questions, we
must say that we know too little of the world
of spirits to take it upon us to conjecture or to
affirm what it was, so far as they person



THE TRANSFIGURATION.       343
ally were concerned, or the community of
which they formed a part, which brought Moses
and Elias from their places of abode in the invisible world to stand and talk for this short
season with Jesus on the mount. Doubtless
the benefit, as the honor, to them was singular
and great, involving a closer approach to, a
nearer fellowship with, Jesus in his glorified
estate, than was ever made or enjoyed by any
other of our race on earth, than may be made
or enjoyed even by the redeemed in heaven.
But we venture not to specify or define what
the advantage was which was thus conferred.
We know too little also of the inner history
and of the human mind of the man Christ Jesus,
to say how  seasonible, how  serviceable this
brief translation into the society of the upper
sanctuary may havn. been-what treasures of
strength and comfort fitting himn for the approaching hour and power of darkness, the
solemn announcement of his sonship by the
Father, the declaration of satisfaction with all
his earthly work, may have conveyed into his
soul. Doubtless here, too, there were purposes
of mercy and grace towards the redeemer subserved, which it is difficult for us to apprehend,
more difficult for us fully to fathom. But there




344         THE TRANSFIGURATION.
is another region lying far more open to our
inspection than either of those now indicated.
It is not difficult to perceive how the whole
scene of the transfiguration was ordered so as
to fortify and confirm the apostles' faith.  That
it had this as one of its immediate and more
prominent objects is evident, from the simple
fact that Peter, James, and John were taken
up to the mount to witness it. Not for Christ's
own sake alone, nor for the sake of Moses and
Elias alone, but for their sake also, was this
glimpse of the glorified condition of our Lord
afforded; and when we set ourselves deliberately to consider what the obstructions were
which then lay in the way of a true faith on
their part in Christ, we can discern how singularly fitted, in its time, its mode, and all attendant circumstances, it was to remove these
obstructions, and establish them in that faith.
1. It helped them to rise to a true conception of the dignity of the Saviour's person.
The humbleness of Christ's birth, his social estate, the whole outward manner and circumstances of his life created then a prejudice
against him and his claims to the Messiahship,
the force of which it is now difficult to corn.
pute: " Can there any good thing come out of




'I'HE TIRANSFIGURATION.     345
Nazareth?" was the question not of a captious
scribe or a hostile Pharisee, but of an Israelite
indeed, in whom there was no guile.  "Is not
this the carpenter's son?" was the language of
those who had been intimate with him from
his birth when they heard him in their synagogue apply the memorable passage in the
prophecies of Isaiah to himself-" Is not this
the carpenter's son? is not his mother called
Mary, and his brothers James and Joses, and
Simon and Judas; and his sisters, are they
not all with us? And they were offended in
him." In the case of his own disciples, his
character, his teaching, his miracles, his life
fully satisfied them that he was that Prophet
who was to be sent. Yet the very familiarity
of their daily intercourse with him as a man
stood in the way of their rising to the loftier
conception of his divinity. Besides, had no
such incident as that of the Transfiguration occurred in the Saviour's history, we can well
conceive how at this very stage they might
have been thrown into a condition of mind and
feeling exactly the reverse of that of their
countrymen at large. Blinded by pride and
prejudice, the Jews generally would not look
at those Scriptures which spoke of a suffering,




346         THE TRANSFIGURATION.
dying Messiah, but fixing their eyes alone
upon those glowing descriptions given by their
prophets of the majesty of his person and the
glory of his reign, they cast aside at once and
indignantly the pretensions of the son of the
carpenter.  Now, for the first time, the idea of
his suffering unto death was presented to the
minds of his own disciples. Afterwards they
were more fully instructed out of the writings
of Moses and the prophets how it behoved
Christ to suffer all these things, and then to
enter into his glory. But the glory of which
so much had been foretold-that bright side
of the prophetic picture-what was it, and
when and how was it to be revealed? Here
again, just when their faith was widened in
one direction, in another it might have begun
to falter. To meet all the trials of their position, in mercy to all their weaknesses, one sight
was given of the Lord's transfigured form;
one visible manifestation of the place he held
in the invisible kingdom; one glimpse of the
heavenly glory, with Jesus standing in the
midst. Sense stretched out its vigorous hand
to lay hold of blind and staggering Faith.
And long afterwards-thirty years and more
from the time that the great manifestation was




TmE TRANSFIGURATION.      347
made-in Peter's person, Faith, when she had
got over all her difficulties and stood serene,
secure, triumphant, looked back and owned
the debt, and published abroad her obligation,
saying, " We have not followed cunningly devised fables, when we made known unto you
the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ,
but were eye-witnesses of his majesty. For
he received friom God the Father honor and
glory, when there came such a voice to him
from the excellent glory, This is my beloved
Son, in whom I am well pleased. And this
voice we heard when we were with him in the
holy mount."
2. The position which Christ assumed towards the Jewish priesthood and the Mosaic
ritual was not a little perplexing-his habitual
neglect of some, his open and severe condemnation of other religious observances sanctioned by the highest ecclesiastical authorities, regarded generally as of divine origin and authority, and rigorously observed by all who
made any pretensions to piety. He wore no
phylactdries-he made no long prayers-neither he nor his disciples fasted-he and they ate
with unwashed hands-he sat down with publicans and sinners-in many ways, according




348        THE TRANSFIGURATION.
to the current ideas, he and his disciples broke
the Sabbath-he separated himself from the
priesthood-he walked not in their ways-he
discountenanced many of their practices-he
taught and he practised a religion that made
but little of holy rites and outward orderly observances. The religion of the heart, the home,
the secret chamber, the broad highway, the
solitary mountain-side-a religion that in its
heavenward aspects opened a way direct for
any sinner of our race to God as his heavenly
Father-that in its earthward aspects found
its sphere and occupation in the faithful and
kindly discharge to all around of the thousand
nameless duties of human brotherhood:-such
religion the Scribes, the Pharisees, the hierarchy, the whole body of the Jewish priesthood, disliked; they looked askance upon it
and upon its author; took up the tale against
Jesus-many of them no doubt believing itand circulated it-that this man was an enemy
of Moses, was ill-affected to the Law and to
the Prophets, was an innovator, a revolutionist. To see and hear their Master thus arraigned, and with mueh apparent reason too,
as one throwing himself into a hostile attitude
towards all the venerated popular superstitions,




THE TRANSFIGURATION.       849
must have been not a little trying to our
Lord's apostles.  But if there entered into
their minds a doubt as to the actual inner
spiritual harmony between their Master's teaching, and that of Moses and the prophets, the
vision of the mount-the sight of Moses and
Elias, the'founder and the restorer, the two
chief representatives of the old covenant, appearing in glory, entering into such fellowship
with Jesus, owning him as their Lord, must
have cleared it away-satisfying them by an
ocular demonstration that their Master came
not to destroy the law and the prophets-not
to destroy, but to fulfill.
3. The manner of Christ's death was, of itself, a huge stumbling-block in the way of
faith-one over which, notwithstanding all that
had been dcne beforehand to prepare them,
the apostles at first stumbled and fell. And
yet one might have thought that the conversation which Peter, James, and John overheard
upon the mount, might have satisfied them
that a mysterious interest hung around that
death —obscure to the dull eyes of ordinary
mortals, but very visible to the eyes of the
glorified. It formed the one and only topic
of that sublimest interview that ever took place




350         THE TRANSFIGURATION.
on earth. And doubtless, when the apostles
recovered from the first shock of the Crucifixion, and, under Christ's and the Spirit's teaching, the meaning and object of the great sacrifice for human guilt effected by that death revealed itself, and they began to remember all.
that the Lord had told them of it, and the seal
of silence that had been put upon the lips of
Peter, James, and John was broken-when
they could not only tell that it was about this
decease, and about it alone, that Moses and
Elias had spoken to their Lord, but knew now
why it was that it formed the only selected
topic of discourse-that recalled conversation
of the holy mount would contribute to fix
their eyes in adoring gratitude upon the Cross,
and to open their lips, as they determined to
know  nothing among their fellow-men but
Jesus Christ, and him crucified.
The peculiar way in which Jesus spake of
his relationship to God was another great difficulty in the way of faith. It seemed so strange,
so presumptuous, so blasphemous, for a manwith nothing to mark him off as different from
other men-to speak of God as his Father, not
in any figurative or metaphorical sense, not as
any one, every one of his creatures might do,




TiE TRiANSFIGURATION.      351
but in such a sense as obviously to imply oneness of nature, of attributes, of authority, of
possession. How, against all the counter forces
that came into play against it, was a faith in
his true sonship to the Father to be created
and sustained? They had his word, his character, his works to build upon. But knowing
the frailty of that spirit within which the faith
had to be built up, God was pleased to add
another evidence, even that of his personal
and audible testimony.  And so from  that
cloudy glory which hung for a few moments
above the mountain-top, his own living voice
was heard authenticating all that Jesus had
said, or was to say, of the peculiar relationship
to him in which he stood, " This is my beloved
Son, in whom I am well pleased. Hear ye
him."
Once before, at the Baptism, had the voice
of the Father been heard uttering the same
testimony-confirming the same great fact or
truth. What more could the, Father do than
break the silence so long preserved, bow the
heavens and come down, take into his lips one
of our human tongues, and in words that men
could understand, thus twice and so solemn



352        THE TRANSFIGURATION.
ly declare, that this Jesus of Nazareth —this
unique sojourner upon our earth —was no
other than his only begotten, his well-beloved
Son, to whom, above all others, we were to open
our ears, to hear and to believe, to obey and
to be blessed? In shape of mere sensible
demonstration, could faith ask a higher, better
proof?
What then may we not say as we contemplate the single but strong help to faith given
in this one brilliant passage of our Redeemer's
life?  What hath God not done to win the
faith of the human family in Jesus Christ as
his Son our Saviour? If miracles of wonder
could have done it; if lights seen on earth that
were kindled before the sun, and forms seen
on earth that had passed into the heavens, and
the very voice heard on earth that spake and
it was done, that commanded and all things
stood fast, could have done it-it had been
done long ago. But, alas! for hearts so slow
and hard as ours, we need Christ to be revealed to us by; the Spirit, as well as revealed outwardly by the Father, ere to that great saying
of his upon the mount we make the right response, looking upon Jesus and saying, " Truly




THE TRANSFIGURATION.      353
this is the Son of God-my Lord, my God, my
one and only Saviour-with whom I, too, am
well pleased, and through whom  I humbly
trust that the Father will be well pleased with
me!"








NOTE.
EXTRACT FROM A JOURNAL KEPT BY THB  AUTHOR DURING A
VISIT TO THE HOLY LAND IN THE SPRING OF THE YEAR
1863.
Thursday, 23d April.-Our first sight of the Sea of
Galilee was from the top of Tabor. The next was during our descent this evening to Tiberias from the elevated ground around Kurin-Hattin. The climate changed
sensibly as we descended, and the vegetation altered.
We had been under considerable alarm as to the suffocating heat we were to meet with in Tiberias, and the
attacks of vermin to which we were to be exposed. Instead of entering the town, or encountering the dreaded
enemy in his stronghold, where he musters, we are told,
in great force, we pitched our tents in an airy situation
on the banks of the lake, where we suffered no annoyance of any kind. Beautiful it was, as the sun went
down and the stars shone out, to look upon the waters,
and to remember that they were the waters of the Lake
of Galilee.
Friday, 24th.-A  showery night, trying our tents,
which stood out well —but little rain having got en



356                  NOTE.
trance. The day cleared up after breakfast, and at
eleven o'clock we went on board the boat which we had
secured the night before to be at our disposal during
our stay here. Rowed along the southwestern shores
of the lake. The hills that rise here from the shore are
lofty, some of them 1200 or 1300 feet high. Landed
for a while on a beautiful pebbly beach in a little bay
on the shores of which are scattered the ruins of the
ancient Tarichcea. Within the small enclosure of the
bay-less than a quarter of a mile across-indenting
not more than one hundred yards the general shore
line, Josephus tells us of more than two hundred vessels being gathered for the only naval engagement between the Jews and Romans. What an idea does this
present of the former populousness of these now silent
and almost boatless waters! Bathed in the lake, and
lay on the shore gathering shells. Took boat again,
and rowed to the southern end of the lake, where the
Jordan leaves it, and, true to its tortuous character,
bends right and left as it issues from the lake. Rowed
across here, and landed on the eastern shore. We had
intended making a minute survey of the southeastern
banks, the general belief having so long been that somewhere upon them was the scene of our Lord's cure of
the demoniac of Gadara. A careful inspection of what
lay quite open to view at once convinced us that it could
not have been at any place on the eastern side of the
lake south of Wady Fik, which lies nearly opposite
Tiberias, that the miracle was wrought, for there is no
steep place whatever at or near the lake-side down
which the swine could have run violently. For a long
way inland the country is level-never rising to any
eight as would answer to the description in the




NoTE.                  357
Gospel narrative. There is a Gadara, indeed, in this
neighborhood, but it is at a great distance from the
lake. It would take three hours to reach it, and the
gorge of the river Jermak intervenes. It cannot have
been the Gadara near to which the tombs were, out of
which the inhabitants came immediately on hearing
what had happened on the lake side. A single look at
Kurbit-es-Sutarah (Hippos) must satisfy every observer
that it could not possibly have been there, nor anywhere
in its immediate neighborhood, that the incidents occurred connected with the healing of the demoniac.
We rowed back in the evening to our tents, thoroughly
satisfied that in this instance the existence of a place
called Gadara lying south of the lake had exercised a
misleading influence. It remained for us to examine
the eastern side of the lake, above the point at which
we now left it. This we resolved to do the next
day....
Saturday, 26th.-Rowed across to Wady Fik, the first
place along the eastern shore coming up from the south
at which the miracle could have been performed. On
landing, we asked our boatmen whether there were any
tombs in the wady. Their answer was to point us to a
very old burying-ground, scarcely a hundred yards from
the place where we landed, which told its own story by
the stones scattered over it. We scarcely needed to ask
whether there were any remains of towns or villages
near; for, looking to our right, on the slope of a hill
about quarter of a mile off, the ruins of a village were
to be seen,-a very old village our guide told us it was,
-its name, as he pronounced it, Kurban, or Dharban,
or Goorban, we could not exactly say which. Immediately fronting us was a loftly conical height, with the




3-58                 NOTE.
steepest line of descent we had yet seen. This height
was connected by a narrow shoulder of land with the
line of hills behind, which here decline so rapidly to the
shore, that either along their sides, or down the still
steeper side of the semi-detached and conical eminence
in the mouth of the wady, the swine may have run
There is indeed a level space, of no great extent however, between the shore and the bottom of the hills and
of this eminence, but it might easily have been that
under the impulse of the demoniac possession, and
urged by the impetus given in so long and so rapid a
descent, the swine might have been hurried across the
space into the water. There is, in fact, no steep place
along the whole eastern shore which runs sheer down
into the water. Here, then, in Wady Fik, we had
enough to satisfy all the requirements of the narrative:
iombs so placed that immediately on Christ's landing a
roan might have come out of them; a mountain near,
on which two thousand swine might have been feeding;
a height down which they might have run so violently
as to be driven into the sea; and a village at hand to
which the tidings might easily be carried. It remained
{or us, however, to visit Wady Semakh-the site fixed
on by Dr. Thomson as the scene of the event. Here,
too, more than one of the conditions required by the
narrative were fully met: on the hill-side, to the right
of the valley, were caves used formerly as tombs; between us and them, as we stood upon the shore, were
the remains of an old village, while away at a considerable distance on our right was a slope of a mountain
side that might have served for the descent. The
tombs, however, were too far off. Their position relative to the village scarcely corresponded with the nar



NOTE.                   859
rative, from which one would naturally infer that the
village lay behind,-the word needing to be carried to
it. On the whole, after the fairest and fullest comparison we could institute, our decision was that it was in
Wady Fik, and not in Wady Semakh, that the incidents
of the strange healing occurred.*
The closer survey, however, that we were now able to
make of Wady Semakh, strengthened the impression
that eye and glass had conveyed to us-as from the
other side we had studied the eastern shores of the
lake-that it was in its neighborhood that the feeding
of the five thousand took place. Let any one run his
eye from the entrance of the Jordan into the lake, down
the eastern shore, and he will notice that all along the
land rises with a gentle and gradual slope; never till
miles behind rising into anything that could be called a
mountain; never showing any single height with a
marked distinction from or elevation above the others,
so separate and so secluded that it could with propriety
be said that Jesus went up to that mountain apart to
pray. Wherever Capernaum was, to pass over from it
to these slopes on the northeastern shore traditionally
regarded as the scene of the miracle, could scarcely be
said to be a crossing over to the other side of the lake.
But Wady Semakh presents the very kind of place required by the record of the events. Looking up into it,
with high mountains on either side, with lesser valleys
dividing them from one another, presenting a choice to
any one who sought an elevated privacy on a mountain
top for prayer,-and turning our eye upon the many
plateaux or nearly level places, carpeted at this season
* Seo Sinai and Palestine, p. 380.




360                 NoTE.
of the year with grass, my companion, Dr. Keith Johnston, and I were both persuaded that our eyes were
resting on the neighborhood where the great and gracious display of the Divine power was made in the feeding of the multitude.