The charity of Christ




COPYRIGHT 1946: ST. MEINRAD ARCHABBEY

ORDER FROM:

GRAIL PUBLICATIONS, ST. MEINRAD, IND.

FIFTEEN CENTS

D©scld!ffe?f



''The charity of Christ driveth us/' says
St. Paul in a striking passage (IlCor. v. 14) ;
and he gives as his reason the fact that Jesus
Christ died for all men.

In another place, writing at the end of

his life to his children, and sending to them
what he thought might be a last blessing,
the apostle prays:

"That Christ may dwell by faith in your
hearts

That being rooted and founded in charity
You may be able to comprehend

With all the saints
What is the length and breadth

And height and depth
To know also the charity of Christ
Which surpasseth all knowledge

That you may be filled unto all the fullness
of God." {Ephesians iii. 17-19).

Again elsewhere, in a passage in which
he seems to sum up the whole goal and
ideal of human life, he cries out with a
song of triumph:

"Who then shall separate us from the
charity of Christ?

Shall tribulation or distress

Shall famine or nakedness
Or danger or persecution or the sword?
But in all these things we overcome
Because of him that

1



For I am sure
That neither death nor life

Nor angels nor principalities nor powers
Nor things present nor things to come

Nor might nor height nor depth
Nor any other creature

Shall be able to separate us from the
love of God

Which is in Christ Jesus Our Lord/'
{Romans viii. 35-39).

From these three passages alone it is
evident that to St. Paul, and therefore to
his first Christians, and therefore to every
Christian in all times, the one essential doc-

trine of our faith in practice is not only the

fact of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, but
the fact of the charity of Jesus; not only

the fact that Jesus Christ is God, but also

that He proved His Godhead by love; the
fact that, because He loved men and for no
other reason, the Son of God came into this
world and Himself became man,

—

“God so loved the world
As to give his only begotten son"

{John iii. 16)

;

that, impelled by this same devoted love.
He sacrificed the life He had taken,

—

“Who loved me
And delivered himself for me"

{Galatians ii, 20)

;

2



the fact that all through His life on earth

the key to His every thought, and word,
and action is His intense love for and de-
votion to mankind. If we grasp this fact,
then, as St. Paul has just told us, we have
come to a “knowledge which surpasseth all
understanding”; if we make it the light of
our lives, the ultimate truth that lies be-

neath every other, and which though all else
perish will itself never fail, the argument
which weighs with us more than all others
put together, the joy upon which, under no
matter what circumstances, we can always
fall back with satisfaction, then we have
secured for ourselves a gladness, an inde-
pendence, a source of energy, a new under-
standing of life, with which no other can
compare; if we allow it to be our motive
force, it will drive us to deeds which no
other force can hope to win from human
nature.

With this object, then, in mind, let us
watch Him. Let us follow His career step
by step as we know it, without any addition
or embellishment of our own, and see what
we can learn.
We find Him first walking alone by the

bank of the river Jordan. John the Baptist
draws the attention of two of his disciples

to Him. Out of curiosity, more perhaps

3



than for any other reason, these two follow
Jesus. He turns and notices them behind
Him; He asks them what they want; en-
couraged by His tone they boldly inquire
of Him where He lives.
“Come and see,’' He says; and the story

significantly goes on

—

“They came
And saw where he abode

And they stayed with him all that day.”
{John i. 39).

Fired with enthusiasm they return to

their friends.

“We have found the Messias,” they cry,
and induce others to come back with them.

To win these His first followers He has
worked no miracles ; on the contrary He has
stood with them by the riverside, submit-
ting to baptism like any sinner; He has
trodden alone the winepress of temptation,

that He might know the agony that all
sinners know. He has drawn them to Him-
self by His winning personality and no
more. Soon they will become so used to
Him they will think of Him as “only
Jesus”; but for the present the spell is

consciously upon them and they follow.
We find Him next in Galilee at the mar-

riage feast, in the company of His mother

4



and friends. The wine for the banquet has
run short ; those responsible are in a panic

;

His mother looks at Him, and with a
woman’s sympathy points out their anxiety.
With a word He smooths away their trou-
bles; He changes water into the best of
wine, and lets the rejoicing go on.

A few days later He is back in Judea,
holding a conference far into the night with
a learned and inquiring Pharisee. The man
has not had the courage to come to Him by
daylight; fear of others, human respect,
have held him back. Even for such a one
Jesus will sacrifice His rest. He of whom it
was said many times that He was weary,
that He had not where to lay His head.

Shortly after this He is again on His
way through Samaria to Galilee. Tired and
footsore He sits beside a well to rest. A
woman from the village comes to draw
water; a woman with no good name among
her fellow-villagers. He speaks to her; He
draws her out; He wins from her some
kind of recognition; she runs away to her
village, and is so enthusiastic about Him,
that the folk come out to Him, and take
Him back with them, and it is days before
they will let Him go His way.

Arrived in Galilee we find Him again in

5



Cana. An official has heard of Him and has
believed. He comes to Him to plead for
the health of his sick son; Jesus there and
then, even while He hints at unbelief, sends
him away with the assurance that his son
is healed.

From Galilee He is soon back once more
in Jerusalem. He wanders alone to the pool
of Bethsaida at the north end of the city,
where He knows He will find many a speci-
men of the refuse of humanity. There He
stands over a beggar cripple in his rags
and dirt, who has begged beneath that
porch nigh on forty years. He speaks to
him

;
questions him about his ailments

;

bids him rise and walk
; and while the

beggar obeys, hardly knowing what he does.
He Himself slips away into the crowd.

This is the first we see of Him in His
earliest days, moving here and there, '‘go-
ing about doing good,'' apparently with no

special plan, content that so He may be
allowed to use His power. But now He sets
to work in real earnest. He returns to Gali-
lee, first to Nazareth, where He had been
brought up, but where His early companions
will have none of Him; next to Caphar-
naum, by the lake of Galilee, where He
takes up a permanent abode. Here He is
walking one morning by the water's edge;

6



He comes across four fishermen, busy with
their nets; He looks at them, bids them
come after him, and nothing in the world
seems able to keep them back.
Being settled in Capharnaum He must

needs give its people the full benefit of His
presence. He finds a poor demoniac on the
roadside; with a word He drives the devil
out of him, and he is at peace. He enters
the house of Simon

; He finds an old woman
burning with fever, in a corner of the
room; He goes over to her, takes her by
the hand, lifts her up, and the fever is
gone. One morning, as He returns from His
prayer on the hillside. He finds a leper lying
outside the town; with a word the leprosy
is cleansed, and the man bounds away to
report his cure to the priests.

Another day He is in His cottage; the
crowds have gathered round Him, within
the dwelling and without; for already the
people of Capharnaum have caught the fever,
like the first disciples at the Jordan, and

cannot leave Him alone. In the midst of
the gathering a man is brought to Him
on a mattress, trembling all over with palsy.

The bearers cannot pierce through the
crowd; instead, they climb upon the roof of
the one-storied cottage, remove the tiles,
and let down the man upon his mattress

7



to the spot where Jesus stands. He is not
disturbed; He heals the man, of course;
more than that, on this occasion He goes a
step further and tells him his sins are for-
given.

Yet another day about this time He is
walking through the bazaar. At his counter
He passes a man, a collector of taxes. He
sees in him something that is worthy of a
higher calling; He looks into his eyes. He
bids him come; and at once the tax collec-
tor, like the rest, cannot dream of refusing.
But that is not the end; the man has his
own way of celebrating his good fortune.
He will give a dinner ; he will invite his old
boon companions, money-changers, men of
low degree, whose morals and manners were
not of the most refined. To this motley
gathering he will also invite his new Mas-
ter. And Jesus comes; sits down with them
at Levi's table, listens to their queer talk,

watches them while they eat and drink,
endures all their rudeness, even declares

that it is for such as these that He has a
special commission. Such is the charity of
Christ.

These are some of the typical instances
that illustrate the manner of Jesus during
this first period of His life. For the rest we
can only quote the words of St. Matthew,

8



who three times seems to give up all at-
tempt to follow Him in every detail, and is
content with a general summary. Thus at
the beginning he writes:

‘‘And Jesus went about all Galilee
Teaching in their synagogues

And preaching the gospel of the kingdom
And healing all manner of sickness
And every infirmity among the people

And his fame went throughout all Syria
And they presented to him all sick people

That were taken with divers diseases
and torments,

And such as were possessed by devils
And lunatics and those that had the palsy

And he cured them.”
(Matthew iv. 23-24).

Later, speaking of the days at Caphar-

naum he says:
“And when evening was come

They brought to him many that were
possessed with devils

And he cast out the spirits with his words
And all that were sick he healed

That it might be fulfilled
Which was spoken by the prophet Isaias

saying

He took our infirmities
and bore our diseases.”

(Matthew viii. 16-17).

9



At the end he sums up again his im-
pression in the passage:

“And the Pharisees going out
Made a consultation against him
How they might destroy him

But Jesus knowing it retired from thence
And many followed him
And he healed them all

And he charged them that they
should not make them known
That it might be fulfilled

Which was spoken by the Prophet
Isaias saying

Behold my servant whom I have chosen
My beloved in whom my soul hath been

well pleased

I will put my spirit upon him
And he shall show judgment to the Gentiles

He shall not contend nor cry out
Neither shall any man hear his voice in the

streets

The bruised reed he shall not break
And smoking flax he shall not extinguish
Till he send forth judgment unto victory
And in his name the Gentiles shall hope.”

{Matthew xii. 14-21).

During this period it is that we hear that
cry of Jesus, which seems to reveal His

whole soul:

10



'‘At that time Jesus answered and said
I confess to thee 0 Father
Lord of heaven and earth

Because thou hast hid these things

from the wise and prudent
And hast revealed them to little ones

Yea Father for so hath it seemed good in
thy sight

All things are delivered to me by my Father
And no one knoweth the Son but the Father

Neither doth anyone know the Father
but the Son

And he to whom it shall please the Son to
reveal Him
Come to me

All you that labor and are burdened
And I will refresh you

Take up my yoke upon you
And learn of me

Because I am meek and humble of heart
And you shall find rest to your souls

For my yoke is sweet and my burden light/’
{Matthew ii. 25-30).

In seeming despair of telling all they knew
of this period, two Evangelists gather it

together in this picture:

"And Jesus went about all the cities and
towns

Teaching in their synagogues

And preaching the gospel of the kingdom

11



And healing every disease and
every infirmity

And seeing the multitudes
He had compassion on them
Because they were distressed

And lying like sheep that have no shepherd
Then he saith to his disciples
The harvest indeed is great
But the laborers are few

Pray ye therefore the Lord of the harvest
That he send forth laborers into

his harvest/’

{Matthew ix. 35-38; Mark vi. 6).
We must pass quickly on. We can say

nothing here of His teaching ; nothing of the

great Sermon on the Mount in which He
laid down the lines of the Christian ideal;
nothing of that sympathy of soul which
made Him raise a dead man to life, just
that He might stop a widow’s tears; noth-
ing of that scene at a Pharisee’s table,

when He defended a sinful, outcast woman,
and made her a friend of His own for life;
nothing of the quiet with which He met
abuse and insult and mocking laughter; in
spite of all He ‘Vent about doing good.”
All the time there seems to grow on Him,
not bitterness because of ill requital, not

despair because of constant failure, not aloof-

ness because of offenses against Him, but

12



an intense sympathy for this ignorant peo-
ple, who were to be excused because they
knew not what they did.

Meanwhile He had chosen His Twelve and
had trained them enough to send them
out for their first experiment in preaching.

They had gone and had returned; full of
their success they had come to pour out
their experiences before Him. He had re-
ceived them with words of encouragement
and with words of warning; and now He
would reward them with a day of rest alone
with Him in a desert place apart. They set
off for their holiday, happy as children; a
day alone with Him was reward enough for
anything. But their joy was short-lived.
The crowd had got wind of their departure
and had pursued them. The heart of Jesus
could not resist; it sacrificed its day of
rest; it gave itself away to this following
multitude. Jesus spoke with them all the
day; in the evening He fed them, though
for the purpose He had to multiply the little
store of bread that they had brought; not
till it grew dark did He leave them. Such
is the charity of Christ.

There followed a day of unceasing mira-
cles, wholesale and regardless, as if He
would finally win this people by His ''full
measure, poured out and flowing over.’’ For

13



He had reached the climax of His life.
Hitherto He had given lavishly all that He
had, He had done for them all that He
could; now He would go further, He would
promise them Himself, He Himself would
be their food, their life; in Him, in the
eating and drinking of Him, they would
find a healing greater than any they had so
far known. Even God could go no farther;
but thus far He could go, and He would
put no limits.

From this time there comes a change.
Miracles there still are in abundance, seem-

ingly more tender, if that were possible,
than those that have been wrought before;
still they are told with a detail and a cir-
cumstance that lets us know that a change
was at hand. And indeed it was. It was
now that He took His Twelve apart, and
drew from Peter the confession in the name
of them all that He was “Christ the Son
of the living God''; now that He gave the
chosen three, Peter, James, and John, the
proof that their confession was true by be-
ing “transfigured before them"; now that
He began, in words that could not be mis-
understood, to warn them of what was com-
ing, to prepare them for the worst and
strengthen them, when His love would lead
Him to give His life for His beloved

14



And with His manner, so does His lan-
guage seem to change. Hitherto, in spite of
the two addresses, the one we call the Ser-
mon on the Mount, the other at Caphar-
naum on the Bread of Life, it is rather His
deeds than His words that have attracted
us ; henceforth we find Him no less '‘mighty
in word,"' whether with His friends or with
His enemies. And yet it is always the same
story; the same endurance, the same gen-
tleness, betraying the infinite forbearance

of the Man, the infinite sympathy and self-
surrender.

For instance. He finds His followers ar-
guing together about their rank and pre-

cedence; poor men, they had yet much to
learn. He sits down on a stone by the
roadside; He calls a child to Him, and sets
him between His knees before them; He
tells those men that His ideal is even such a
child as this. Or again He warns them
against the giving of offense to others

;

instead, let them spend themselves in res-
cuing their fellowmen from ruin; and He
illustrates His point by the story of the
shepherd who left his flock to go after one
sheep that was lost. Or He inculcates upon
them the virtue of forgiveness of injuries.
"Not seven times,'' He says, "but seventy
times seven times" must offending man be

15



pardoned. In such ways as this does the
charity of Christ show itself in word and
instruction during this second period of
His life.

In the meantime the clouds are gathering
about Him; soon the storm will burst and
He sets Himself to meet it.

Hitherto most of His days have been
spent in Galilee, where He might expect
most friends, where men were more spon-
taneous and responsive to the affection that

He showed. Now He must go forward; He
must stand before the people in Jerusalem
and proclaim to them what it is that He has
come to teach. It will be a hard struggle;
He will have to use language stronger than
He has ever used before; He will be com-
pelled to assert Himself yet more clearly, to
utter words of warning yet more fiercely,
even to condemn those men who understood
but would not believe, the men who had
already decided that they would treat Him
only as an enemy, and would not rest till
they had taken His life.

And yet in the midst of all this stormy
time the sunshine of His charity keep§
breaking through the clouds. One morning,
as He is standing in the Temple square. His
enemies drag before Him a woman steeped

16



in shame. One of two things, they tell
themselves, He must do; He must condemn
her or He must defend her; if He con-
demns, they will boast that His mercy is
limited after all, if He excuses, they will
denounce Him as a defender of immorality.
But He has His own way of meeting

them; He says not a word. He stoops and
with His finger writes something on the

ground ; what it is we do not know, but the
men who stood about looked, and read, and
were ashamed, and one by one slunk away;
when at last He stood up there was no one
left but just the poor woman and Himself.
Then and not till then did He speak.
‘Where are they that accused thee?'' He

asked. “Hath no man condemned thee?"
She answered: “No man. Lord."
And He said: “Neither will I condemn

thee. Go, and now sin no more."
It is at this time, too, that He pronounces

those wonderful utterances which prove the
longing of His heart ; the more His enemies
reject Him, so much the more do His words
seem to burn with affection.

“I am the light of the world
He that followeth me walketh

not in darkness

But shall have the light of life."
“When you have lifted up the Son of man

17



Then shall you know that I am He.”
‘Tf you continue in my word

You shall be my disciples indeed
And you shall know the truth

And the truth shall make you free.”
''Which of you shall convince me of sin?

If I say the truth to you
Why do you not believe me?”
"As long as I am in the world
I am the light of the world.”

"I am the door
By me if any man enter in he shall be saved

And he shall go in and go out
And shall find pastures.”

"I am come that they may have life
And may have it more abundantly.”

"I am the good shepherd
The good shepherd giveth his life for his

sheep.”

"I am the good shepherd
And I know mine and mine know me

As the Father knoweth me and I know the
Father

And I lay down my life for my sheep.”
"My sheep hear my voice

And I know them and they follow me
And I give them life everlasting
And they shall not perish for ever
And no man shall pluck them

out of my hand.”
18



Such is the language of the heart of
Jesus in the midst of all the storm and
stress. It is at this time, too, that He de-
scribes His idea of duty to one’s neighbor
in the story of the Good Samaritan

; at this

time that we find Him taking His rest in
Bethania, accepting hospitality from Mar-
tha and Mary, showing His charity by ac-
cepting kindness done to Him; at this time
that He responds to the appeal of His dis-
ciples and gives them a lesson in prayer.
He passes by two blind men and heals them,
though His companions thought them im-
portunate in their clamor; takes a dumb
demoniac and sets him free; finds a poor
suffering woman and relieves her ; while He
fiercely chastises the Pharisees who calum-
niate Him, brings them to nothing when
they try to put Him in the wrong, avoids
all their devices to catch Him, complains
bitterly of their falsehood and hypocrisy,
still He is always the same Jesus, always
ready with hand outstretched to help, with
word to console, even to the Pharisees them-
selves condescending, whenever they ask Him
to sit at table with them.

Such was the story of what may be called
His great Jerusalem mission. A man is
proved more in suffering than in satisfac-
tion, more by failure than by success; and

19



Jesus was no exception to the rule. Many,
it is true, had been won by His teaching;
many more by His personality; still the
heart of the rulers was hardened more than
ever, and His life was in danger. But He
would die when He chose, not when His
enemies designed; and His hour was not
yet come. He gave them a last dreadful
lesson, the lesson contained in the story of

the Rich Man and Lazarus; He spoke to
His followers of humility, in contrast to the
arrogance of the Scribes and Pharisees

;

and then He hid Himself away in the coun-
try. We find Him next at the tomb of
Lazarus, comforting his sisters, Martha and
Mary, Himself weeping over the grave of
a dear friend, at last, as a crowning act
of friendship, calling his body from the
tomb and restoring it to life. It was an-
other of those tremendous, unthinkable acts

of charity which seemed to paralyze for the
moment friend and foe alike.
But the evening of His days was drawing

in. He looked towards the sunset and knew
that in a week or two more the great sacri-
fice must be made. We are told how He
seemed to pull Himself together to face the
ordeal; how He turned His steps towards
Jerusalem for the last time, ‘'rejoicing as a

giant to run His course''; this last journey

20



to the city is crowded with events which
reveal His nature at every step. Outside a

city gate, as He enters in one evening, ten
lepers cry after him from afar. He answers
their cry; sends them to report themselves
to the authorities, on their way every one
is healed. One of them returns to thank
Him, and Jesus is glad; but His heart feels
it that the others have no word of grati-
tude.

‘‘Were not ten made clean? Then where
are the nine?''

Again it is apparently during this last
journey that some poor women surround
Him bringing their children to Him for a
blessing. The disciples object; they try to
put these obtrusive women aside, the Mas-
ter had no time for such as them. But He
would not have it so. We are told He re-
buked them and said:

“Let the children come to me.
Do not prevent them;

For the kingdom of God
Is for such as these."

And He put His hands upon them, and
embraced them, and blessed them, and then
He went on His way.

Thereafter He met a youth, rich, well-
intentioned, evidently well-bred, with some

21



idea in his mind that he would yet do some-
thing with his life. This young man accost-
ed Jesus, asked Him for advice about his
future; and Jesus, at first content with an
ordinary level, told him to keep the law of
God and it was enough. But the man was
not content, he wanted more; whereupon,
we are beautifully told, “Jesus looked on
him and loved him.’’ In the end the young
man failed, but not before he had drawn
from Jesus another trait of His character.

He went on and came to Jericho. Here
He healed two blind men on the roadside;
here, too. He found a man, a publican, who
was anxious to get a sight of Him as He
passed, but being small of stature feared

he might be lost in the crowd. So he had
hurried forward and climbed a tree. But
Jesus as He passed, looked up and saw him;
and gladdened the poor publican’s heart by
inviting Himself to stay in his house for

the night. Last of all He came once more
to His beloved Bethania, to the house of

Lazarus, and Martha, and Mary, which seems
to have been a favorite resting place for

Him who, as He said, “had not where to
lay His head.” Here Mary could not restrain
herself; once more at supper she was at
His feet anointing them with precious oint-
ment

;
had she some foreboding that the end

22



was near, and that this was being done in
preparation for His death?
And now we have come to the last week

of His life. He stayed in Bethania till the
Sunday ; then, as if by one last grand act to
vindicate the power over men that He could
use if and when He chose, He allowed them
to feel His fascination. He allowed them to
come about Him, beside themselves with
joy, waving their palms and spreading them
beneath His feet; singing their hosannas
to the Son of David, to Him who came in
the name of the Lord, carrying Him in
triumph into the city, into the very Temple
of the Most High. His enemies looked on
and murmured but He would not be thwart-
ed; they complained but He silenced their
compaints

;
for this last time He would

have His way, whatever they might do with
Him before the week was out.
And yet even in the midst of this trium-

phant procession as on other occasions the

heart of Jesus Christ burst through its
bonds. When the crowd had brought Him
from Bethania up the slope of the Mount of
Olives, and Jerusalem lay outstretched be-
neath Him on the other side of the valley,
He stopped the cortege, He dismounted from
the ass that bore Him, He burst into tears
at the sight.

23



So begins the last week of the life of
Jesus on this earth. The next three days
are strenuous. Each night He retires from
the city to His favorite Bethania ; each
morning He comes into the town, a distance
of several miles, to fight His last battle
with the ever-growing power that has long
since determined to have His life. He does
not spare Himself or them. There is no
flinching. With power in His eye He drives
the sellers from the Temple; with the lan-
guage of oratory He pours out parable after
parable revealing to His enemies in terms
that cannot be mistaken their evil ambi-
tions, their rejection of Him and their doom.
They heckle Him with questions and He
answers them everyone, till at last they
dare ask Him no more; they pretend that
He does not speak clearly about Himself,
and He proves to them that already they
know enough. He turns to the people and
warns them against their false leaders ; He
turns back to the leaders and denounces
them to their face, pronouncing over them
that ‘‘Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees,

hypocrites,"' which deserves to take rank
among the masterpieces of human language.
He looks into the future and declares the
coming doom; the destruction of the cho-
sen city, the end of the world and its signs.

24



the corruption of men, the judgment, the
return of the Son of Man, and yet after all
the reward of those who will be ‘'the bless-
ed of His Father/’

“If thou hadst known,” He cried,
“And that in this thy day

The things that are to thy peace
But now they are hidden from thy eyes

For the days shall come upon thee
And thy enemies shall cast a trench

about thee

And compass thee on every side
And beat thee flat to the ground
And thy children who are in thee
And they shall not leave thee a

stone upon a stone
Because thou hast not known
The time of thy visitation.”

Once only in the midst of all this gloom
do the clouds seem to lift. Jesus is seated
at the Temple gate, watching the passers-
by as they drop their alms into the box.
Among them comes a poor widow. While
others give abundantly of their abundance,

she drops in her tiny mite. He takes notice
of her sacrifice. He calls His disciples to
Him

; He points the woman out to them all

;

He tells them that that poor widow has
given more than all the rest; for others
have given of the superfluity, but she has

25



sacrificed her very livelihood. Such again
is the charity of Christ, that distinguished

so well the gift from the love of the giver.

On Wednesday at midday He retires from
the scene; these last hours He must spend
in silent preparation for the end. Mean-
while He knows full well that the con-
spiracy against Him has worked out its
plan ; one of His own Twelve has been
bribed to betray Him; He knows it all, yet
never for a moment by word or deed will
He betray His betrayer. Thursday passes
silently by; the Twelve are evidently with
Him; in the afternoon they come to Him
and remind Him that it is the day for the
Paschal Supper. Immediately He responds;
He chooses two of their number; they shall
go into the city, to such and such a place,
and prepare; He speaks as if the whole
city of Jerusalem were in His hands, at His
own free disposal.
Then comes the last night of all. St. John,

the disciple whom Jesus loved, who under-
stood the heart of Jesus Christ as did no

other, speaks of this night with special em-
phasis. Fifty years afterwards it is still

fresh in his memory, every deed the Master
did, every word He spoke; and He intro-
duces His account with the significant sen-
tence that seems to sum up the whole life:

26



“Having loved his own that were in
the world

He loved them unto the end.”
Watch Him, then, on this last night, the

night when, above all others. His character.

His charity was made manifest. He sits
down with His own chosen Twelve at sup-
per. “With desire,” He says, “I have de-
sired to eat this Pasch with you before I
suffer.” He checks their mutual rivalry

;

instead He commends to them service of
one another; to prove His words. He rises
from among them, takes a towel and basin,
and washes the feet of every one. Mean-
while He knows full well that His betrayer
is in their company

; He gives him his
warning, but ceases His kindness in no
way. He institutes the Blessed Sacrament;
gives them His own Body and His own
Blood to be their food and drink, gives
them the power to hand this on to all suc-
ceeding generations; lavishly, without re-
gard and limit. He pours Himself out

;
such

is the charity of Christ.

Nor is His language less telling than His
deeds; His love for once seems almost to

lead Him to excess. Peter will deny Him,
the Twelve will desert Him, but never mind

;

He will gather them again to Himself.
He Himself will leave them and they will

27



be alone, but never mind; He will send
them the Holy Ghost, the Comforter, the
Strengthener, and in time will come to them
Himself again. He is the vine, they are the
branches, so near are they and shall they be
to Him; and He concludes with a prayer
that this union may be never broken, that
where He is they may also be, a prayer
that is worthy of God-Man, the God of love.

We must hurry through the rest. We find
Him, an hour after this last prayer, once
more in prayer in a garden, in an agony
even unto blood. He is discovered there by
the traitor and delivered to His enemies,

and this time He lets them have their way.
He is deserted by His own, dragged back to
the city to trial ; in the court He is insulted,
struck by a common soldier, spat upon, in
the end condemned by all as a blasphemer.
All night He is in prison, abandoned to a
brutal guard; next morning He is again
condemned, then dragged through the city

that the sentence may be sanctioned by the
authority of the Roman governor. Before
that governor the charges are renewed, grow-

ing ever stronger as the passion of the peo-

ple arises. He is a malefactor; He is a
perverter of the nation

;
He forbids the giv-

ing of tribute; He is an enemy of Rome
since He makes Himself to be a king; last

28



of all, in their minds worst of all, He de-
clares Himself to be the Son of God, and
therefore can deserve no pardon.

But the Roman governor is not satisfied.
He hears Jesus is a Galilean, and he hopes
to escape from his dilemma by sending the
culprit to the Galilean tetrarch, the only

man who, in all the life of Jesus, had been
treated by Him with contempt. Here He is
interrogated, but He makes no reply

;
He is

mocked and befooled, but He utters no pro-
test ; in the end He is returned to the
Roman governor, for Herod is too wily, and
too great a coward, to commit himself by
condemning Him. Pilate is no less anxious
to acquit Him, not for Jesus' sake, but to
free himself from censure. He parleys with
his victim, argues with the mob that clam-
ored for His blood: tries to bribe them by
the surrender of Barabbas the political crim-
inal, scourges Jesus, has Him utterly de-
graded, shows Him to them, ‘‘a worm and
no man," in the hope that at the sight their
vengeance will be satisfied.

But it is all of no avail; He must die;
and Pilate pronounces the word of condem-
nation. He is led to the place of execution,
carrying His own cross; on the way He
speaks once, to some women who wept at
His misfortune : “Women of Jerusalem," He

29



said, ‘Veep not for me, but weep for your-
selves and for your children/'

Arrived at Calvary He is stripped of His
clothing and nailed through His hands and
feet to a cross; torture enough to make all
thought impossible. Yet we have the record
of the things that were uppermost in His
mind at this time. First were His execu-
tioners: poor creatures, they knew no bet-
ter:

“Father, forgive them,

for they know not what they do."
Next was a fellow-victim, a criminal cru-

cified with Him. This man showed Him
sympathy and fellow-feeling, and he re-
ceived as his reward:

“Amen, I say to thee,
this day

Thou shalt be with me in paradise."
There were two who stood by. His moth-

er and “the disciple whom he loved." He
was to leave them; He had broken their
hearts

;
He would heal them by giving them

to each other. Such to the end was the
charity of Christ.

And so He died. Yet as if to show by
some external sign what that death sig-
nified, He would not have His body taken
down and buried, till a soldier had come,
and had proved to the world that dead in-

30



deed He was, by running a spear through
His side and heart. He drew the spear out;
from the wound there came out a few drops
of blood, then only water; the charity of

Christ had not another drop of blood to
give

—

‘‘Greater love than this no man hath
Than that he lay down his life for

his friend.’’

For part of three terrible days His body
lay buried; on the third day the rock-tomb
was found empty. Then followed some
strange things. A few women, who had
come to mourn for Him and had found the
body gone, suddenly saw Him standing be-
for them in the garden. He saluted them.
He let them embrace His feet; without any
doubt He was the same, the same familiar
Jesus. One woman in particular, the woman
who had been a sinner and was now His
devoted friend, sought Him with grief in-
consolable. He came to her, playfully He
tried her; at last by a word He revealed
Himself, giving her a joy that nothing

could ever again kill.

In the evening of that same day two of
His disciples were going on their way from
Jerusalem to another town. They were wav-
ering in their faith, they had heard the
story of the women, they talked to each

31



other, encouraging each other's unbelief.

He came along the road and joined them;
He took part in their conversation; before
they had reached their journey's end, though
they did not recognize Him, He had won
their hearts and they were loath to let
Him go.
That same night He stood among His

own, gathered together fearful in an upper

room. Gently He chided them, by evident
signs He convinced them that it was He;
He left them full of awe, yet beside them-
selves with joy. But one of them had been
absent from the gathering. They told him
what had happened, but he would not be-
lieve; they gave him the evidence of the
wounded hands and feet, but he rejected it;
not until he had himself put his finger into
those wounds and his hand into the pierced
side would he yield. And the gentle Master
heard, and accepted the challenge. He stood
again among them; this time the unbeliev-
ing one being present. “Peace be to you,"
He said as usual; then to the delinquent:

“Put in thy finger hither
And see my hands

And bring hither thy hand
And put it into my side.

And be not faithless but believing."
Such is the condescending charity of Christ.

32



For forty days like this He went in and
out among them, comforting them, strength-
ening them, giving them assurance of His
abiding presence:

‘‘Behold I am with you all days,
even to the consummation of the world/'
Then He was taken from their midst. He
ascended into heaven, but not before He
had convinced them that in a mystic way
He would still be forever with them.
Such then, in shadow only, is the charity

of Christ. From beginning to end it is a
consistent picture, overwhelming in its great-
ness, incredible, as men would say, in its
manifestation, yet too consistent, too great,

if we may use a pardox, too incredible
not to be true. No man could have invented
such a story, much less have convinced
others had it been false. It is a thing
unique; it is human charity raised to its
ideal; it is beyond the ideal, being lit up
with the inner light of charity divine. And
we rightly say it is; for being divine it
cannot die; Christ having risen dieth now
no more. He is yesterday, today, and the
same forever, and we live and die and rise
again in the triumph of the knowledge that
nothing need separate us from the love of
God, which we have in Christ Jesus Our
Lord.

83