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1 2 3

THE LIFE OF THE MASTEH

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!/ nfliil - .-itrl xii h:ir. ipqjj^-^i^Ean arfliOJyi I

THE MEETING OF JESUS AND MARTHA
I am the resurrection, and the life— John, XI. 35.

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^tlUam Br(8B0, X^ubUjsi^er, Toronto
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and /go/ by
Rev. "John Watson

mto all tD^o lobe
Pra in jrtncerttt

Co:itents

A Prologue: The Inevitable Christ
I : The Fulness of Time
II : The Generation of Jesus
III : The Idyll of Bethlehem
IV: The Home of Jesus
V: The Call of the Messiah
VI: The Forerunner
VII: The Baptism
VIII : The Temptation
IX: A Reasonable Method
X: A Reasonable Life
XI : The Verdidl of Jerusalem
XII : His Own City
XIII : The Rejection of Nazareth
XIV : Heretics of Samaria
XV: Jesus and the Nations
XVI : Jesus and the Proletariat
XVII: The Apologia of Jesus
XVIII : An Arraignment of the Respedables
XIX: A V/arning to the Rich
XX: With the Children
XXI : The Twelve
XXII ; Three Interviews
XXIII: Twenty-four Hours with Jesus
XXIV : The Home of Bethany
XXV : The Conspiracy Against Goodness

[vii]

37-

J 3

79
89.

99
109.

117.

127

135
145

155
165

173
181

189

201

209

223

235

'■•-1
n

CONTENTS

XXVI: A Last Encounter
XXVII : Before the Council
XXVIII: Before Pontius Pilate
XXIX: The Death of Jesus
Epilogue: The Eternal Christ

255
265

273 •
283 .

293

[viu]

A List of the Colored Plates

The Meeting of Jesus and Martha

Fronti

t piece

Rachel's Tomb

Shepherds Abiding in the Field

The Flight

Jesus Labouru f; at Home with Joseph

The Voice of One Crying

The Temptation

The Calling of Four Disciples

Cana from the Road to Nazareth

and

Facing page
Mary

30
34
42
58

72
82

Site of Bethsaida

116

Jesus Walking on the Water
The Rich Man and Lazarus

140
178

Jesus and Nicodemus

204

View of Bethlehem

218

When it is Evening
The Transfiguration

240
258

[ix]

Note

Thf paintings by Mr. Corwin Knapp Livjon were made
especially to illustrate Dr. Watson's work. These paintings, herein
reproduced m color, represent the best of the result of several voyages
which Mr. Linson made to Palestine, gathering material, studying the
types, the landscape and the architecture, so that his work would
have, besides its sr ritual and reverential inspiiation, all the value of
genuine documents of the Holy Land, where the manners and customs
have hardly changed since the time of Christ

[X]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

. 4

N*^

A Prologue : The Inevitable Christ

T is mid-autumn as I write, and
another year is dying before
our eyes. The greenery of June
has faded and changed into the
colours of decay. At the merest
breath the leaves loosen and
fall to the ground like rustling
rain. The wind gathers them
into heaps, or whirls them in
circles on thr lawn, or scatters
them in clouds, or drivt 'hem
along the open road. Helpless and worthless — th^ remains of
the glory of summer soon to be buried out of sight— the
withered leaves affcft one with sadness and sympathy They
are a parable of human life, which also has its fleeting seasons
and ih nnal disappearance. First comes spring-time, when the
buds burst on the branches, and life is a boundless possibility
then follows .ummer, when life rises to its fulness of strength •
by-and-by autumn checks the flow of sap. and begins to detach
us from life ; and. last of all. winter, with a timely kindness, covers
our hves and our faults beneath the cold pure snow. For a day our
neighbours speak of us; for a short while the men who served
with us in the great enterprise of life miss our presence; for a
longer t,me some friend will recall us; and all her life, till the
faithful heart grov.s cold in death, a woman will keep our
memory green. Then the last of those who knew us will also

[•]

-f

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

be covered by the snow, and our remembrance will cease upon
the earth.

Among the countless millions of the race a few have defied this
law of oblivion, whose leaf has not faded, and whose names
cannot be forgotten. Their achievements rise like Alps above
the plane of human labour; their services remain the perma-
nent heritage of the race. We are wiser, and stronger, and
holier, and gladder, because such men have lived and worked.
One opened the kingdom of letters with his poems; another
asked for us the deepest questions of the soul in his dialogues ;
a third discovered a new world, and doubled our dwelling-
place ; a fourth expounded the secret of the physical universe,
and arranged the stars on a map ; a fifth cleansed away the cor-
ruption of the Church, and restored her strength; and a sixth,
the greatest of all, showed unto the world righteousness, and
wrote the Ten Words on our conscience. The names of Homer
and Socrates, of Columbus and Copernicus, of Luther and
Moses, can never be blotted from the pages of human history.
In their lives the sap of the race flowered and bore fruit,
which has been gathered and stored for all generations. These
mighties belong to no country or century; they are citizens of
the world, and their fame is ageless.

Their immortality is undeniable and honourable, but yet it is,
after all, secondary and impersonal. We venerate them, not
for what they were, but for what they did. They are the
benefadlors of all men, they are not the friends. Apart from
their work, they had not passed the frontiers of their town ;
and if the work be divorced from the man, in him we would
have but the slenderest interest. If it be proved that Homer
was but a name with which to bind the first sheaf of a golden
harvest, if it be insisted that the story of Moses is studded
with legends, then we may feel a pious regret ; but we shall
not be cast down as those who have suffered irremediable

[2]

THE INEVITABLE CHRIST

loss. We shall still read the Iliad with enjoyment; we shall
still repeat the Commandments with reverence. What are the
men to .-s? Their bequests live for us. the men do not. We
have not spoken with them, nor looked into their faces, nor
had fellowship with them; to deny their existence or assert
their unworthiness were not to rifle the treasures of our soul.
We bow before those great ones because they have lived, and
are a strength to our humanity, but we do not love them.
One Man has immortality of the first order, who does not live
in books or works, but has His eternal home in the heart of
His disciples. He is not distant, but present, more reai than
those we see and touch, to whom an innumerable multitude
bow their souls morning and evening every day. If they could
be convinced, which is impossible, that Jesus had never lived
according to the Gospels, or that if we blew aside the imag-
ination of His friends He was a self-deceived enthusiast, then
the faith and hope of millions would be eclipsed and they
would fall into despair. Without Jesus risen from the dead
and stainless in His perfection, some would hardly care to live
and for Jesus, who left this world almost nineteen centuries
ago, more men and women would die than for any other
cause on earth, and they would be the best blood of the race
What circumstances lent their help to this Man? What part
did He take in face of the world? What means did He use
to win this authority? Tliree years or less was the measure
of Jesus' public career, from the day the Baptist declared Him
the Lamb of God spoken of by ancient prophecy, to the day
when He was offered on the cross as the Passover Lamb
according to the prophets. He was born of a nation which
had been scattered and peeled — without a king, without lib-
erty, without a voice ; a nation suspected, discredited, hated.
The son of a peasant mother, he was a carpenter by trade and
a poor man all His days; as soon as He became known to

[3]

?*f* ' :

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

His people He was persecuted, and in th« end condemned to
death as a blasphemer. He lived all His days in an obscure
province of the Roman empire, about the size of the princi-
pality of Wales or the state of New Jersey in the American
Union, and was careful not to pass beyond its borders. Dur-
ing His ministry He never wrote a word, and He left no
book behind Him; He had no office, no standing, no sword.
Was there ever a life so lowly, was there ever one so helpless,
as that of Jesus? One had exp^ded that He would hardly
have been noticed in His own day, and one had been certain
that beyond it none would ever hear His name. With Jesus
it is the unexpefted which ever happens, and this obscure
Man agitated society in His own time as when a great ship
passes through a quiet land-locked bay, so that to this day the
swell can be felt in the Gospels. No sooner was He born than
wise men from the East came to worship Him, and Herod
at His own door sent soldiers to murder Him. His own fam-
ily was divided over Him — His mother, with some fears
and doubts, clinging to Him, His brothers refusing to believe
in Him. When He had preached for the first time in the syn-
agogue of Nazareth, where He had lived from infancy and
every one knew Him, His neighbours were first amazed at
His grace, and then in a sudden fury would have flung Him
down a precipice. The Council of the nation was divided
about Him, certain leaning to His side, and others declaring
that no prophet could come out of Galilee ; and the people
were torn in twain, so many holding that Jesus was a good
man, so many that He was a deceiver. If a family was rent in
those days, you might be sure Jesus was the cause; and if two
people argued in a heat at the corner of a street, the conten-
tion would be Jesus. A Roman judge condemned Him, but
not before his own wife had interceded for Him ; if Roman
soldiers nailed Him to the Cross, a Roman officer bore wit-

[4]

THE INEVITABLE CHRIST

nc88 to His righteousness; and if the thief crucified on one
side insulted Jesus, the thief on the other side believed in
Him. None could be neutral, none could disregard Him-
there was a division of the people concerning Jesus.
This controversy will doubtless be laid to rest by His death
and only fill a footnote in the history of the Jewish peopled
Jc«us of Nazareth, a local agitator and heretic, crucified under
Pontius Pilate, about 33. Nothing could be more unlikely
th 1 that a commotion in a petty province should affedt pagan
society, and a Galilean prophet arouse the Roman Empte
The attitude of Rome to all religions was consistent and char-
aaeristic— a policy of cynical contempt and worldly oppor-
tunism. Gods no doubt there were, and this was. on the
whole, the misfortune of the race. Each nation had its own
particular deities, and knew best how to propitiate them Let
each manage its own religion, and on no account interfere
with that of another people. Upon those terms the provincial
might worship his god after any fashion he pleased, and Rome
would secure him liberty of conscience. Rome, as the ruler of
the world, also gave hospitable welcome to foreig.. c cities in
the capital, and honoured them in a Pantheon. The most oppo-
site cults flourished side by side in on<- family, and we would
have said that one religion more would iiave made little differ-
cncc. As It happened, however, the faith of Jesus was so virile
and assured, so insistent and aggressive, that it came as a living
torch into society, and set every man on fire as frienJ or foe.
Roman magistrates, accustomed to compromise, and anxious
at any cost to keep good order, were reduced to despair, and
were compelled to persecute Jesus in the person of His apostles.
Within a century the Nazarene had rent the empire in twain
and put all the gods to open shame.

Nor was it enough for this exafting personality that His pres-
ence threw the multitude into confusion and changed the

[S]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

market place into a battle-ground. He invaded the schools
and gave a new task to philosophy. For a while it was enough
for the disciples of Jesus to believe in Him ; by-and-by they
began to speculate about Him. It was a matter of intelleftual
necessity to ask who He was, and vWth that question was
added a new science, the most subtle the most majestic, the
most daring of all the departments of ordered knowledge.
Theology began her work when the ancient learning was
dying ; she opened a new means of culture when the for-.ier
was exhausted. Never had the human intelledl faced so mys-
terious a problem as the person of Christ, never has there been
a controversy so keen and so absorbing. Philosophy, abandoning
the world of abstrad ideas, gave her energy to the study of
fa6ts, — the fads of Jesus' life; and on the life and death of
this crucified prophet, scholarship, baptised from paganism,
created the Christian doArine, as to this day it is scholarship
which argues and defends the dogmas of the Christian Faith.
It came to pass that One Who was despised in His own day and
by His own people, because He had not letters, has opened a
school wherein the master thinkers of the race have been
working ever since with mixed joy and despair.
Once this Man had established Himself in history He became
a permanent factor, a disturbing force never to be evaded, ever
to be reckoned with. As a rock standing out from the midst
of a stream, upon Jesus has the current of human life and
thought beat and been broken from the first centuries to the
nineteenth. The great movement of the Middle Ages was the
Crusades, and therein the chivalry of the West flung itself on
the East, for the most romantic -*nd, to recover the tomb of
Jesus from the Saracen. The Reformation opened the modern
age ; and while many causes fed its strength, the deepest was
the relation of the human soul to Jesus. No wars have been so
fierce or relentless as the wars of religion, v hich have drenched

[6]

THE INEVITABLE CHRIST

many lands in blood, and without jcsus of Nazareth they had
never been known. As he moves down the paths of the West,
kings and peoples seize their swords; Jesus confounds politics
and con.merce; He lights the fires of persecution and fierce
debate; He creates inquisitors and martyrs; no ruler could
make a plan without counting in Jesus; no treaty could stand
unless it had Jesus' name; no peace could last a month unless
it had His blessing.

It may seem that in our century we have thrown off this do-
minion of Jesus and are able to forget Him, but it is only an
afltdtation of indifference. Never were there so many lives of
Jcsus written; never so much attention given to His aftual
words ; never such anxiety to send forth His Gospel. Were a
parchment discovered in an Egyptian mound, six inches square,
containing fifty words which were certainly spoken by Jesus,
this utterance would count more than all the books which have
been published since the first century. If a veritable pidlure of
the Lord could be unearthed from a catacomb, and the world
could sec with its own eyes what like He was, it would not
matter that its colours were faded, and that it was roughly
drawn, that pidure would have at once a solitary place amid
the treasures of art. A vast number of persons are interested
in the question cFcvolution, solely because it may affedt the
position of Jesus, and they would accept it at once were they
convinced that the new principle h?d a rightful place for the .
Master. While we arc silent, we are also nervously conscious
of Jesus; at a hint of His appearance we do Him homage.
If one desired to realise how this Jew— His words. His life.
His spirit, — has been woven into the warp and woof of life, '
let him imagine the effed of Jesus' influence removed as by
a stroke and the pattern which remains. One would then see a
city dotted with empty places, which are covered neither by
grass nor flowers, where once had stood churches, orphanages ■

[7] ' '

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

asylums, and hospitah. The whole machinery of charity and
philanthropy would have disappeared, together with every
monument to pity. Libraries would remain, but they would
be robbed of those noble classics of many tongues which owe
their genius a.ui charm to the Master. There might still be gal-
leries, but without Raphael. Michelangelo, Fra Angelico, Da
Vinci, from whom their subjeds and their inspiration had been
taken. Music, in her most searching and solemn notes, would
be no longer heard in that place; and if law be administered
It would be stripped of its majesty and life. Exchanges would
be open, but the Sermon on the Mount would no longer
restrain the madness of competition, and the injustice of the
strong; and there would be prisons, as in the pagan days, but
places now for punishment only, not for remedy. The city would
still be there with only a few buildings wanting, but they
would be the monuments to kindness, to mercy, to hope, to
God. It woL.d be a city despiritualised, from which the visi-
ble glory of religion had departed.

And still one has not appreciated the continual and pervasive
influence of Jesus in present-day life. It is more subtle and con-
vmcing than can be proved by any building or book: it is an
atmosphere into which we have been born and which we
breathe, of which we are unconscious, and which we may allow
ourselves sometimes to deny. The home of which we are part
has been created by Christ, and its arrangements are instincft
with His Spirit. Whatever is pure and merciful and spiritual
and unselfish in social life, flows from His influence; and the
very motives which regulate our best deeds, and to which we
appeal in another man. have been implanted by the unseen
hand of the Master. The most beautiful type of character, that
of humility and tenderness, has been reared in the school of
Jesus, although in many a case the pupil does not know his
teacher; and the most violent attacks on Christianity have

[8]

ft'

THE INEVITABLE CHRIST

only been possible because they have been made under the
toleration of Jesus. There is no plac. when one could live with
his family in peace and pursue the highest ends of life unless
Jesus had been there before; and if the spirit of Jesus were
withdrawn, modern civilisation would in three generations re-
turn to the morality of paganism. If any one should have the
heart to criticise the Gospel of Jesus, he will find that the best
person he knows is pursuing Jesus' ideal ; and if any one had
the audacity to deny that Jesus ever lived, he would next mo-
ment touch the Master, living now, in one of His disciples.
It is the life of this Man we shall now study, and after a plan
which will not compete with biographies which have been
written by learned persons and are in our hands. We shall not
endeavor to compass every detail of the Master's life from
Bethlehem to Calvary, nor shall we weary any reader with
questions of order, for indeed the chronology and harmony of
the Gospels are past finding out by ordinary folk. It will be
assumed that in the four Gospels we have sufficiently accurate
accounts of how Jesus carried Himself to His fellow-men, and
what He did on certain occasions before their eyes, and what
befell Him at their hands. And various incidents will be selected
and grouped into chapters, each complete in itself and each
affording a facet of the whole. We do not dare to promise that
after he has read the last page of the Life of the Master he will
be wiser on a site or a date, but we dare to hope that he will
have a clearer vision of the august Figure Who invites the
judgment of each man's conscience, Who lays His hand on each
man's heart.

[9]

■

■I

Chapter I : The Fulness of Time

O one can study any of the great
movements which have made
history without observing that
it had two conditions — there
was the man, and he came at
the time. Certain ideas had
long bren simmering in the
popular mind, a train of cir-
cumstances had been laid, a
multitude was ready to rise;
but these were only forerun-
ners, anticipations, auxiliaries. Nothing would have come to
pass, and the morning glow would have faded into darkness,
had not the secret yearning in many hearts taken shape in a
single man. No one could have foretold his origin ; no one can
take credit for training him ; no one can boast afterwards of
having been his colleague. From behind the veil he comes —
from a palace, or from a cottage, or from a college, or from a
desert. Upon him is laid one burden, and he rests not till it be
fulfilled ; he is incalculable, concentrated, forceful, autocratic.
Now he is the idol of the people; now he is their vidtim; he
is ever independent of them, and ever their champion. They
may not understand him, yet he expresses them ; they may put
him to death, yet he accomplishes their desire. These are the
makers of the race through whom God intervenes in human his-
tory, and the chief in whom God became incarnate was Jesus.

["]

THE MFE OF THE MASTER

Between the man and his time there munt be a certain corrc
pondencc else he cannot have full course. Nothing is more
pathefc than the experience of one who ha. arrived too soon
dehvermg a message which will be understood to-morrow, but
which to-day is a dream : attempting a work which to-morrow
the world w,ll welcome, which to-duy it considers madness.
He dies of a broken heart an hour befo-e sunrise. Nothing is
more .ronical than the effort of one whc has arrived too late
tor whom there was an audience yesterday, for whose cau .'
there was an opportunity; but now the audience has dispersed,
and the held .s taken ; he has missed his tide, and for him
another will not come. It may be said that Jesus was indepen-
dent of time and environment. As a person, yes! Who never
could have been hid or altogether have failed. As a worker, no!
for this were to ask an endless miracle. Had Jesus come in
Samuel s day. no one would have understood His Kingdom-
had He come in the second century, there had been no open-
ing for -i.s Kingdom. There was a brief space when the life
seed of .ebrew thought was ready for the sower, and the
Roman Empire still remained a quiet field for the sowing.
This was the fulness of time, and Jesus appeared
For the supreme success of the enterprise four conditions were
necessary, and the first was apostles. Within a province Jesus
achieved H.s vidlory over .sin and the world; to Jewish con-
gregations and a handful of personal friends He gave His Gos-
pel ; but this was only the battle-ground of a few fields on which
the fate of empires hung. It was for the world Jesus died at
Jerusalem; ;t was the world He would teach in the synagogue
of Capernaum. For this purpose it was necessary to have mes-
sengers to carry the tidings of this work and word unto the
ends of the known earth. Without them He had been helpless
- a provincial, teaching and dying in obscurity, a name in the
annals of the day. a Saviour thwarted of His opportunity Yet

[12]

i :

it-
re
n,
ut
w

I.
n

RACHELS TOMB
pillT Of Rwhcl . grave unto this day. - Ge„csi,, XXXV. ,9-ao.

HI rtairi?/ (rijETflq I r,i ,Lfi i/li .. :,.::it<\ ^CH bn« fi-jih [3H«H IjftA
.os-vi .'f /.A'/ ,^li■.■^n9'ti .//:!> ^ifli uinu •jye'tg a'l'jrilsM 'to ijtllf^

THE FULNESS OF TIME

where can the apostle r " t.arh a mission be found ? How gen-
erous and catholic i l st be his eqiii . .-nent ! Gifts the most splen-
did and the most ( ppoiite must he- combined in him; his must
have been experien.;"9 the most t rofound and the most con-
tradidlory. For this envoy of Jc as must be immovable in his
own conviaions, else he will be a reed in the outer wind; and
he must be universal in his sympathies, else he will have no
access to strange minds. He must be one who carries one land
in his heart that he may be loyal ; yet one at home in all lands,
that he may understand the Kingdom of God. He must be
strong, hardy, determined, fearless; for his role will be mar-
tyrdom; he must be sensitive, susceptible, emotional, for he
preaches the Evangel. He must be firmly, even fiercely, moral,
since his cause is built on the Eternal Law; he must be satu-
rated with religion, since he is the preacher of grace. Intense,
patriotic, robust, legal, also cosmopolitan, accommodating, deli-
cate, spiritual. This man seems an impossible demand until one
remembers the Jew. The whole world and all ages could not
afford so perfedl an ambassador for Jesus as a Jew of His own
day. We are accustomed to speak of the training of the twelve
Apostles, and we mean the three years with Jesus; we have lim-
ited the time. The Jew began to be trained say two thousand
years before, when Abraham heard the inward call of the Eter-
nal and set cut on his Divine quest. He had been separated that
he might be open to receive a new revelation; he had been
secluded that he might learn the lesson of the One God ; he
had been scattered that he might see the world-life; he had
been brought back that he might wait for the Messiah. Shut
in by desert and sea, he had been in the very heart of things;
tried and persecuted, he had learned the idea of sacrifice. Vis-
ited by prophets, he had his eyes on the future ; and his wor-
ship a poem, he was filled with spiritual dreams. Polytheism
was burnt out of him by coals of fire; monotheism had been

['3]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

wrought into the very texture of his soul by deliverances, mer-
cies, revelations. There was no city where this exile could not
make himself at home, manipulate affairs, gain the ear of
women, creep into courts, affedl thought. Yet with every emi-
gration he clung more fondly to Jerusalem. Never has any one
cast a faster anchor or swung by a longer chain; never could
any one be more inflexible or more supple, more devoted to
the past, or more open to the present, more absolutely him-
self, more entirely a citizen of the world. Abraham, Moses,
David, Isaiah, the anonymous writers of Jonah and Ecclesiastes,*
Maccabean patriots and Apocalyptic seers, had all done their
part to educate the evangelist of the world, and it only re-
mained that Jesus should seleft the flower of the race, should
sanftify them by His Spirit, and charge them with His sublime
message.

Another imperative condition for the inauguration of Jesus'
enterprise was a way. It would have availed little that Jesus
had lived and the Apostles had bee, prepared if they had been
confined to the Holy Land — imprisoned evangelists without
access to another country. Had their mission been at an earlier
time, this would have been their hopeless defeat ; for then every
nation stood apart from its neighbour— isolated, suspicious,
hostile. For the evangelising of the world in such circumstanced
Jesus must have been born into a hundred peoples, and among
each have reared His apostolate. A forerunner was needed in
the vast outer world of the Gentiles, as the Baptist went before
the face of the Messiah in Jewry, to make the crooked places
straight and the rough places plain that there might be a high-
way for the Lord. This was the high ofiice of Rome, which
laboured in unconscious alliance with Jerusalem for the coming
of Jesus. Unto this power had been given by the Eternal not
only a stout heart and the genius of war, but the noble virtues
of justice and peace. Not only had Rome attacked and con-

[14]

THE FULNESS OF TIME

quered nation after nation, with her fine genius for government
she had also conciliated and pacified. All subjugated peoples be-
came integral and willing provinces of the Empire. The world
was a single state in the first century, with one capital, one
ruler, one law. From Rome the open way ran by land and sea
unto the distant frontiers, and along it the Roman citizen jour-
neyed in the peace of Rome and under the protedlion of the
Eagles. Her roads, straight and strong, can still be seen, after
all these centuries, in England and other lands, and they are
the silent witnesses not only to her work of civilisation, but
also to her mission of religion. Her High Priest was called
with stria justice the Chief Bridge-Maker, for it was her high
part to lay in many a morass the sure foundations of law, and to
cast over many a dividing stream the bridge of human unity.
She stretched her highways and she set up her bridges that the
chariot of Casar might run smoothly thereon ; and afterward
came the Prince of Peace, whose kingdom was to extend where
the Eagles had '■ <' ilown, and to weld unheard-of peoples in
a more lasting ..:■

Thf; third conOi .or the success of Jesus was a tongue.

What would avail a prepared messenger and an unfettered pas-
sage if there were no common speech between the people and
the preacher ? No barrier surely is so hopeless and exasperating
as confusion of tongues; for here are two men who have fore-
gathered from the ends of the earth, and have met in peace,
who are in sympathy with one another, and have something to
say, and they have no medium. To-day one of the initial ind
gigantic labours of the missionary of Christ's Cross is to master
the language of foreign peoples; and one of the brilliant achieve-
ments of Christian scholarship has been to reduce to order the
speech of a savage tribe, and to save it forever from oblivion by
placing in its charge the Evangel of Jesus. This is possible in
these later days, because the Church has been the heir of the past,

['S]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

with treasures of wealth and learning, because the sci-.nce of
language .s full-grown, and the instruments of knowledge are
unhm.tedTh,s endeavour had been vain in that day Ihen
Jesus sent forth His first heralds to go into all the world with
the news of His salvation. If only there were a language not
corhned to a single province, but understood round the shores
of the whole Mediterranean ! Not austere and merciless like the
Hebrew, the language of the law; nor 'ormal and inflexible,
the language of rule; but gracious and persuasive_a fitting
instrument for the message of grace, One has the instind thai
there ought to have been a language prepared for the declaration
of the Gospel, and that people should have been trained in its
use. And this very thing had come to pass in the world of Jesus'
day, for there was a conspiracy of nations to prepare the way for
our Master. If the Hebrew discipline trained His missionaries,
and Roman authority got them access, Greece provided them
WKh a speech perfeft for its high purpose. A Jew spoke a
dialed of Hebrew ; any one who moved in public life knew the
phrases of official Latin; but every person, from Jerusalem to
Rome, spoke and understood Greek. It was the neutral ground
where strangers met. the free speech where all stood equal
For a time the dream of a universal speech had been realised
and the catastrophe of Babel had been repaired. If the world
had waited long for such a univc.al speech, it was worthy of
the Evangel of Jesus when it came. No choicer -ehicle for the
reasonable and winsome message of th^ Master could be imag-
ined than the language of Homer and Plato._so soft and per-
suasive that it offered the invitation of Jesus with something of
the grace that v-as poured into His own lips; so flexible and
adaptable that it could create new words for the profound mys-
teries and beautiful experiences of a Heavenly Faith ; so philo-
sophic and exad that it would embody the speculations and
dogmas of a new science of religion. So perfed is this harmony

[16]

THE FULNESS OF TIME
that it seems as if the Evangel had been preparing for centu-
nes for Us Greek dress, and the liquid Greek speech had been
brought to us perfedHon to clothe, and. if that' were poss^,"
adorn the words of Jesus. possioie,

desire for there was a time when the world would have Hven
no welcome to esus, for it had no need of Him. There was
day. in the youth of the world, when the spirit of man awoke
and rejoiced in the splendour and abundance of physical nature
when It was enough that the sky was blue, and t'he gra^wa;
green and the blood was red. and the body was strong tI
was the age of paganism, with its jocund gods and ga'y L

anH ? U . "" '^""'''"S '^' "^" "'"'^ «f ^he first vintage
His Cross had been a speftre at the feast. By-and-by the cud
tl's Tw""' ^'"^ " ''^ '''^'' ^"^ sated'disgust's n e on
lust, and Rome be filled with unspeakable religions of the
Ea^ Then It is time for the Holy Child. There Jas also a day
n the manhood of the Race when its nobler minds could no
Wer be satisfied with appearances; they were touched by"
Divine curiosity to know what was behind, and they set out

the huma" rT^ "'u'"'^' ^"'^ ^"^^^'^^'^ ^^e content's o
the human mind, and searched into the system of things and
unveiled tne world cf ideas. When it seemed possible ha; Ee
eternal secre, could be discovered by reason, then thinkers wer
not prepared to receive the sublime intuitions of Jesus. It was

mark "To th" 1 ""' *° ^°" ""^^' ^"^ ''^'^ ^^ "^ ^ighes
mark . To the unknown God." If any one can soTve the great

problem on another line, and can give pledges of certain^

[•7] ^

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

the world is ready to hear him now with open thirsty heart
This was the day for the Master. And there came to the world
a day when the law of righteousness, long held in solution
in the universal conscience, crystallised in the Ten Words, and
the most intense nation in the world gave all its strength to the
keeping thereof till the Prophets continually called their people
to the judgment of this standard, and the Psalmist sang its
praises, declaring it to be sweeter than honey, more precious
than gold. So long as the perfedion of the law seemed
within reach, it had been vain to appear as a Saviour; when
the law had reduced pious and honest hearts to despair, and
changed the shallow and narrow people into hypocrites, the
hour of Jesus was at hand. The world was ready for a Redeemer.
Naturalism, philosophy, and law had been the preparation for
Jesus. Whom Plato and Virgil foretold ; Jesus answered the de-
sire of all nations, and came into a prepared heritage when He
said, "I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life."

[18]

Chapter II : The G eneration of Jesus

■^^^^^^^^^^^jOME teachers have been so

bound up with their own gen-
eration that they have been
strangers in the outer world-
like plants which flourish in
one zone and die in the next.
Their message may have been
efFedlual, but it was provincial ;
their accent may have been
forceful, but it was a dialed.
,^ . , , ^ They are the prophets of a

day, the leaders of a local cause, the children of their circum-
stances Other teachers, the seled few of history, have had such
a breadth of thought, such a grasp of principles, such a spring
of humanity, that their work could not be confined, but has
ouched the race. The greatest souls cannot be nationalised
hej are cosmopolitans; they need not be dated, they belong

of traduions and the barriers of geography. What th^y say is
true ,n the first century and in the nineteenth: it is said with
perfedl simplicity which is unfettered by any form; it has the
umversa note. In this class one places Isaiah and St. John, but
above all the prophets Jesus possesses the ages. The Master
transcends all the conditions which fetter and Lalise ordln"
men. It were possible for one to live b> His words although
he did not know where Jesus had been born or how He lived

[«9]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

It remains, however, that one gains without measure, if he not
only has the Master's word but also its environment. Jesus did
at times set Himself to speak in fulfilment of a fixed purpose,
as in the Sermon on the Mount, or in the Upper Room, but
far more frequently He spake upon occasion. He answered a
question. He corrected a mistake. He defended himself against
an attack. Jesus was never isolated and indifferent in the midst
of the intense human life of His day: He was played upon from
every side; He was responsive even to a look. Those people
who loved or hated Him, studied, criticised, admired, slandered
Him, are the first commentators on the Lord's words. They
called them forth ; they dictated their form ; they sharpened
their edge. His generation was the mould into which the molten
gold of Jesus' speech ran, and therefore one who desires to
appreciate not only the unchangeable and eternal value of the
Master's teaching, but also its perfedl form, must give some
thought to His contemporaries. It is useful to know the geog-
raphy of the Holy Land, and the customs of the people in the
days of the Lord, but ten times more vital to have in our minds
the four representative men whom He faced, with whom He
dealt, and who made His generation.

The first is a Pharisee, who was in evidence during Jesus' whole
public career, and whose name is now the byword of religious
speech. It were too late in the day to offer an apology for this
man, or to repeal his just condemnation, but it is needful to
understand him. If we consider him as nothing more or less
than an ignorant bigot or an unscrupulous hypocrite, we cannot
hope to understand the inwardness of the public duel which
lasted for two years at least between him and Jesus. Such a
Pharisee — one who was a mere travesty upon morality — could
never have won the suffrages of the Jewish people; such an
opponent could never have defeated Jesus, even for a day, even
in appearance. The Pharisee must once have won the respedl

[20]

■A

THE GENERATION OF JESUS

of his n-Ttion ; he must still be giving some pledges of sincerity,
and, as a matter .,f fadt. a good case could be made for the
average Pharisee. His was the patriotic party which, from the
time of Ezra, and through the heroic struggle of the Macca-
bees, when the piirst? were their allies, sustained the national
spirit and repudiated the foreign yoke. His iueal of God's com-
monwealth may have been narrow, but it was intense; his
attitude to the outside world may have been bitter, but it was
sincere. His social ritual was burdensome and absurd, but it was
well-intentioned and had its strength in conscience: it was an
honest effort to guard the religious life of the family from the
corruption of intercourse with strangers and sinners. One great
service, beyond all question, was rendered by the Pharisee for
he preserved the revelation of his fathers with unswerving loy-
alty, and in especial defended its late but priceless addition. _
faith in immortality and the unseen world. For his patriotism
and courage, for his conscientiousness and spirituality, the Pha-
risee ought to be approved. He had at least a just pride in his
nation's past; he was not willing to gather gain out of the
foreign oppression; he believed with all his soul in the destiny
of the Jew. and was ready to make the last sacrifices to main-
tain It inviolate. It the degeneration of the best which makes
the worst; and it is one of the paradoxes of history that this
man, who was in his full intention the loyal heir of his fathers
and the jealous rustodian of the national treasures, should be
the opprobrium of the Gospels, and should deal the death-stroke
of his people. From our distance it is a light task to explain
his declension: it has its analogy in every age. The Pharisee
be leved so blindly in the God of the fathers that he was not
able to believe in the God of the children, considering revela-
tion to be closed; he honoured so utterly the good men of the
past that he supposed wisdom to have died with them, counting
tradivio]! as sacred as the law; he clung so fiercely to his own

[21]

IHE LIFK OF THE MASI EK

conception of thr Messiah that h.s .„ind wa« sealed against
Iight-receiving a spiritual Ch. ist as an i.npo.stor. 1 lis earnest-
ness had degenerated into tanatici.sm. his cns-.ientiousne.ss into
unreahty h.s resolution into obstinacy, till vain customs were
more to h.m than righteousness, till he hated the very good-
ness ot God when it was i.,carnate hefore his eyes. U:idcr the
Phar.sees s.n had captured religion. From almost the first and
certainly to the last, of Jesus' public life, the Pharisee was' His
watchful, ingenious, ungenerous, unrelenting foe; and as we
follow the Master's history our anger will be hot against the
f harisee, and we shall wish to stone him; but let us be sure
that we have the right. Would we have been broader and wiser
than this man had we lived in his day and been fed on his
doctrines? Suppose that the Master had come at the opening
of the twentieth century, which prides itself upon its light
and c-liarity. and ,r --.d Himself after a similar fashion to that
which oftended t',e , pleof thef^rst century; had He brushed
aside the dogmas of our day and our religious customs, our
traditions of the elders, and our washing of hands; had He
avoided the circles of professional religionists in every city and
associated Himself with disreputable people— would His holi-
ness and Hisgracehaveproteded Him from censure and slander
and persecution ? HadHcbeen a minister of religion, would He
not have been deposed from His office? had He been a layman
would He not have been put under the ban of the Church ? and
IS any man so convinced of his own insight and charity as to be
sure that he would not have had his share in this injustice?

The second man Jesus met was the Sadducee; and although
there may be some dispute as to the origin of his name there is
none regarding his party. The Sadducees may or may not have
been the descendants of the great priestly family of Zadok they
certainly formed a priestly caste. If the Pharisees were the
national party, and with all their faults and limitations they did

[23]

THE GENEKATION OF JESIS

represent the mind of ,he nation, the Sadducees constituted

l.c anstocracy. The priests we.e the only hereditary order in

the nation I hey had an as.sured position which could not he

from r'l *V'""'""« '^'^ '""""• '^'^y '>-» ^ '-KC revenue
trom the I cmple taxes, and. in the case of their chief families

-mmcnse power in high positions. An aristocracy of this kind

may at a t„„e share the national aspirations and make sacririces

tor the commonwealth, and it is never to be forgotten that the

Maccabees were pr.csts. but there must always be a rift between

an aristocracy and a democracy, and a tendency to separate The

aristocracy is maintained at the cost of the people ; L members

haye no s1,are in the struggles of the people; it is able to defy the

wishes of the people. From the days of Aaron, who hindered

Moses and taught Israel to worship the golden calf, on to the

dapof Caiaphaswhosecuredthecrucirixionof Jesus. thepriests
of Israel had with here and there a noble exception, been a
curse rather than a blessing to the nation. They reached in Jesus'
tune their height ot ambition and pride and insolence and u'.rld-
hness. \ or did their priestly office, with its sacred duties, in any
way redeem the order ; it rather added to the chief priests their
last offence from a Jewish and religious standpoint. It was neces-
sary for such ecclesiastics of high estate to belieye with all their
.night m what was unseen and eternal, and to live humbly or
It was ineyitable that they would be blinded by ti.is present
world and become ambitious. For one to offer solemn sacri-
hces unto God and not continually realise him. for one to re-
ceive great gain from thedischargeofreligiousdutiesandregard
them only as a lucrative superstition, must end in utter scep-
ticism and moral deterioration. And this is what came to pass
with the Jewish priests of high rank. While it was part of their
craft to uphold the sacrificial law and make much of the
Temple, the Sadducees had ceased to hold the faith of the un-
seen, -the existence of spiritual beings, the immortality of

[ 23 ]

IHK LIFE OF IHK MASIEK

the 8«ul. and the Divine government. They were the agno8tic«
ot the day. and the worst of agn.«tics_ worldly and unbeliev-
ing ecclesiastic.. — whi«c most perfect parallel k Pope Leo X..
that son of the pagan renaissance, to wh<.m Luther was a mad
monk, and Le..s court, to which the rites of the Christian faith
were a jest.

As one may imagine, it'is party was hated by the people on
the two sufficient grounds of their unbelief and their pride, and
with the people as judges, it had no chance against the Phari-
sees. The Sadducees did not lay themselves out to win the
suffrages of the people— it was enough that they obtained the
money of the people; their energy was given to alliances with
the Romans and the Herods. whereby they might gain prac-
tical power and add to their social comfort. They did not count
as a fador in the national thought or life, holding neither the
national faith nor sharing the national hope, while they put to
shanie the ancient religion of Israel and preyed as vampires
on the resources of the poor. Until the close of His life, Jesus
came neither into collision nor contadt with the hierarchy so
that while one hears at every turn of the Pharisees, one has'no
complaint of their opponents. This was not, of course, because
the Sadducees had the slightest sympathy with Jesus; it was
amply because He was beneath their notice. If they had ever
heard of Him — and, nodoubt. His enthusiastic effort to cleanse
the Temple for the moment compelled their attention — He
would seem to them simply an illiterate person and a vulgar
agitator, another fanatic such as the popular religion bred from
time to time. So long as Jesus confined Himself to preach-
ing His ideas and arguing with the Pharisees He gave the Sad-
ducees no concern. Waen evidence was at length brought before
the leaders of the priestly aristocracy that Jesus had made an
attack on the Temple, and that their gains were in danger,
then the proud isolation and contemptuous indifference of the

[24J

THE GKNEHATION OF JESl s

aristocracy were thrown to the wind-, and they fell into a vul-
gur renzy of hatred. While Je.us only taught the reality of
everlasting hte and opposed to sense the visionn of the Father's
h..use and the holy angels the Sadducees maintained their high
composure. When Jesus, as was supposed, would reduce their
.ncome these superior people condescended to the last ,nean-
ncss to send Him to the cros.s. This culd be said in defence of
the r hansees. that if they were fanatics, it was for dogma • this
must be sa.d in exposure of the Sadducees. that they were fanatics
tor the.r pockets When these dignified aristocrat; changed into
a disorderly rabble, clamouring for Jesus' death, it was ,n.t faith
but greed wh.ch excited them. Theirs was that form of culture
which IS able to treat with contempt the august verities of re-
ligion but IS goaded into fury by the loss of a f^^v shekels

Behind the Pharisees and Sadducees was another party which
stands in the shadow and which has been the cause of much
controversy. Its name does not occur in the CJospels and lesus
does not once mention it. but it is a grave question whether He
.s not thinking of its members where He refers to those who
voluntarily refrain from marriage, and whether he does not so far
approve their spirit in His directions of poverty and unworld-
l.ncss Perhaps one comes nearest the truth about the Essenes in
considering them to be the religious extremists. just as thTZeal-
ots were the political extremists of the Jewish faith The Es-
senes could be found in towns, but for the most part they lived
in villages and communities, where they could carry out their
habit of life more perfectly. They were arranged in ranks of
increasing .severity and deeper knowledge; they were celibates
but were ready to adopt children and bring them up in thei^
fellowship; they bathed frequently in cold water and wore white
garment.s; they laboured with their hands and had a common
purse. Their life was that ideal of simplicity and purity which
has ever floated before the minds of the saints and has been

[ =5 ]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

chiefly loved in evil days, when faith and righteousness have
almost d,ed out of the land. Allowing for circumstances, the
Essencs were the forerunners of the Anchorites of the desert
and the associates of St. Francis, and the " Friends of God " of
the Middle Ages, and certain modern communities which have
attempted the common life. It is impossible to doubt that the
sacnhce and devotion of the Essenes must have told on the re-
hg.ous spirit and practice of the day ; it also proves the impo-
tence of the secluded and monastic life that in the great con-
troversies of that day and in the historical movement of Jesus
these mteresting people had no share. They mourned the back-
sliding ot the day and despaired of the Kingdom of God. so
they withdrew themselves: others waited and prayed for that
Kingdom in the ways of daily life, and to them the Kingdom
came and they helped in its foundation. Because the Essenes left
their brethren that they might save their own souls they were in
turn left alone; and because Peter and John remained in their
places as the salt of Bethsaida and Capernaum they were called
to be Jesus' Apostles and to be the salt of the world
If those parties only had made up the nation in the day when
Jesus began His work, it had fared ill for disciples, but there
was then, as there is ever, a body of people whom the Sadducees
despised for their lowliness, and the Pharisees for their sim-
plicity and whom the Essenes censured as too much concerned
with this world, but who were the clean, honest soil for the
Evangel. They were quiet, modest, reverent, well-living folk
who quarrelled with none, contemned none, judged none, but'
desired for themselves the best things of the soul and received
them thankfully from any quarter. This party, the party of
goodness, was scattered up and down all the land, and to it
belonged the village maiden of Nazareth to whom the Angel
Gabriel appeared, and Joseph the carpenter, and Simeon, who
waited for the consolation of Israel, and Anna, the prophetess

[26]

THE GENERATION OF JESUS

who served God night and day. and certain young fishermen of
Gahlee. Unto this kind of people Jesus made His appeal, and
they heard His voice: from them He made His disciples, and
called His Apostles, and with their hearts full of love to God
and man, He laid the foundations of His Kingdom, and with
the same He builds it up from age to age.

[271

I'..

Ill

u '

Chapter III: The Idyll of Bethlehem

O event is so charged with mean-
ing as a birth; nothing is so
incalculable as a young child.
Unto sight what is it? — a
tiny, helpless, dependent mor-
sel of life, unable to think,
unconscious of itself, with no
speech but a wail. Blot it out,
who had missed this creature
save its mother? What had the
world lost? Nothing save a
unit out of millions, another labourer, perhaps another crim-'
inal. Unto vision a new force enters into life with the coming
of a child, whether he be born in a cottage or a palace. What
impresses a thoughtful person as he looks on an infant is not its
futility, but its possibility; not what it is, but what it is going j
to become. One person has ever something of this imagina-
tion. As she looks on her babe's face, his mother dwells on a
hundred signs which, to her fondness, prophesy the coming
greatness, and she treasures them up in her heart. She is shy,
and guards these prophecies jealously ; it may be that they will
be but spring blossom to be scattered by the wind, but it may
also be that they will set into the fruit of autumn. Geography
may yet be rearranged, or history rewritten, or nations re-
deemed, or the unseen revealed, by this littie one when God's
hand is on him and he comes into His Kingdom. Has it no^

[29]

i'^!«

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

happened that a single year is lifted out of a century and a day
therein glorified, because on that day a poet, a painter, a con-
queror, an apostle, has been born. A child was born in a road-
side inn nineteen hundred years ago, and time has been redated
' from that day.
Unto those who had eyes to see and a soul to understand, the
Nativity was attended by favourable omens in heaven above and
on the earth beneath. The story is told in St. Luke's Gospel
with a very delicate and lovely touch, and the atmosphere is
one of great joy and spiritual expedlation. The coming of Jesus
was heralded and celebrated by songs which have passed into
the praise of the Christian Church. They all sang who had to
do with the Holy Child — the angels who escorted Him from
the heavenly places and bore the message of the Divine good-
will ; Elizabeth, as she received her young kinswoman, and did
<,}y honour to the mother of her Lord ; Zacharias, whose son was to
run before his face clad in camel's hair and girt with a leather
girdle; Simeon, who was to hold the Infant Messiah in his arms
and be ready to die in peace; and chiefly the Blessed Virgin,
on whom the very crown of motherhood rested. The heavens
shed forth their light on earth, and a star rested above Beth-
lehem. Wise men from afar — the ambassadors of the great, and
shepherds from the flocks — the ambassadors of the poor came
and knelt by this cradle, where the hope of ages has been ful-
filled, and God Himself has entered into human life.
Between the outer circumstances and the inner spirit of an event
there is a quickening contrast, so that a tyrant is born in a palace
and dies upon a scafl^old, so that a prophet is born in a cottage
and lives forever in a nation's heart, and there are two scenes
of the Nativity. One is what appeared unto every traveller who
happened to rest that night at Bethlehem and was an eye-
witness of the chief incident in human history. What he saw
was a roadside inn of the East, a place of four bare walls with

[30]

^^^1tS5ii3-^F*E:* :

SHEPHERDS ABIDING IN THE FIELD
And there were in the same country, shepherds abiding in the
field, keeping watch over their flock by night-^St. Luke II. 8.

:'ft

w ;t.

aril rti ;3fiibKi/: zbisrifjariit ,nitW')j jius^. -jtii lu aiav/ si^rii ijtif,
.tl .41 3;lu»I .»<!-. irfjjiji yd d-jofi ii-jH7 isvo /jaitw ^nl<p^:^ .bijrt

THE IDYLL OF BETHLEHEM

the sky for roof, where each traveller made his own provision
and created his own comfort. One part was raised a foot or two
above the ground, and possibly divided into compartments, and
there the first comers had spread their beds and were resting
in peace. The lowest space was filled with beasts — camels,
oxen, horses, asses, as they could be arranged, a mass of
hungry, struggling, evil-smelling life. Into this rude stable came
two people, a man and his wife, for whom no place could be
found among the travellers. For the woman, in her hour of
agony and need, some corner was made, whence the beasts had
been driven, and there, beside the wearied beasts of burden,
fighting for their food beneath the open sky, with none to attend
her save this faithful man, the Virgin brought forth her Child
and laid Him among the straw in the place where the beasts
ate their food. No outcast of the highways or the streets came
into this world more humbly than our Master.
Ancient piety shrank as by a natural instindt from those ignoble
and squalid circumstances, and has given us a Nativity wherein
we all delight. The scene is shifted from that cheerless, in-
hospitable khan to some cave in the hillside near Bethlehem,
which a legend makes the birthplace of Jesus. It is filled with
soft, heavenly light, and the angels keep guard over the en-
trance. His mother and Joseph kneel and worship the Babe,
round Whose head the halo shines and Whose face is the mirror
of heaven. The wise men open their coffers, and lay their treas-
ures at the feet of the Child, the shepherds do homage with
adoring faces, while some gentle animals in the background
represent the lower creation at this shrine of holiness. Here,
indeed, is a narrow space, but it is full of Heaven ; here is low-
liness, but no indignity; here is weakness, but also reverence.
It requires but a stroke of pious imagination, and the stone roof
of the humble cave is changed into an arched cathedral, and
the place of the Child into the high altar with its radiant glory

[3«]

'— --^

i!i

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

and these people of all degrees into the crowd which with one
accord tails down at the lifting of the Crucified.
With the after-look the disciples ..f Jesus may prefer to see the
inner glory ot His Nativity rather than its outer circumstances •
but no one would desire that these should have been different'
Had Jesus been born in a palace or rich man', house, had He re-
ceived instant attention and homage, then His birth had not
corresponded with His after life, and it would not have been in
kecpmg with Himself For He was to sh^ w unto all ages that
the greatest force in life is nv)t position nor wealth, but character
and that character is independent of all circum«anccs. lS7hat
goodness, cradled atid reared in poverty, without advantages and
without favour, persecuted and slain, is yet the most beautiful
and triumphant power on earth. Before this infant, so inhospi-
tably received by the world, lay the cruelty of Herod, and the
narrow lot of Nazareth, and the hon^eless mission of Galilee
and the contempt of the great, and the shame of the Cross Bui
that would be only the appearance of things, not the heart
Around Him also would gather the loyalty of faithful disciples!
and the love of women, and the praises of little children, and
the gratitude of the poor, and the reverence of holy souls,' ?
the awe of the wicked, and the sympathy of the saints in P ..
disc, and the service of the mighty angels of God. On Him .'so
would rest, the true aureole for His head, the Spirff of God
and the love of His Heavenly Father.

This fascinating and quickening contrast between the worldly
weakness and spiritual might of Jesus' Nativity has also been
a prophecy of the continual contradidion between the power
and the appearance of His Religion. For how does the Faith of
Jesus treat its discipl*.? It meets him at the beginning with the
condition of repent, :e; it demands to the end the renuncia-
tion of self It enjoins the surrender of his goods to be disposed
of as the Master may command; it offers him a reward none

[32]

THE IDYLL OF BETHLEHEM

' handle. It

I him

jird himself with a towel
and serve; it assures him of various sufferings and humiliations.
It cannot be satisfied without the obedience of the intelled and
the sacrifice of the heart : it feeds the one with mysteries and the
other with crosses. Ite weapon of aggression is preacUng, and
of defence, humility ; its champions are martyrs, and its vidt'ories
are holiness. Its crest and coat of arms are the Crow, and its
symbolic rite the remembrance of the Master's crucifixion. Yet
this faith has laughed to scorn the sword and the stake; has
broken to pieces strong tyrannies and the kingdoms of unright-
eousness; has raised its throne on the ruins of ancient theologies
and philosophies; has changed persecutors into missionaries, and
served itself heir to the empire which put its Founder to death;
has made free men out of slaves, and saints out of profligates!
and nations out of savages; has created peace and civilisation,'
has given the revelation of God. and opened the sure vision of
the life to come. What weakness! what omnipotence! And the
sign thereof is the Babe wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying
in a manger. ■'

When the disciples of the Master are dazzled by false lights, and
are intoxicated with success, it is wholesome to take their way
back through the centuries, studded with achievements of the
Faith, to the obscur and lonely spring, and understand the single
secret of Christian strength. For if one should suppose that it
consists in the things which fill the eye and are matter of boast-
ing, then he has missed the inwardness of the Nativity, and for
him it would have seemed more fitting that Jesus should have
been iiorn in Pontius Pilate's palace, with the Roman Eagles
over ths room, and the chief priests of Jerusalem in attendance.
The Religion of Jesus stands not in stately cathedrJs, nor in
magnificent services, nor in lordly ecclesiastics, nor in huge
finances, nor in learned dodlrines, since at the best these are
only the witness to its age and vigour, not the life itself. Chris-

[33]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

r.}

tianity U strong and fruitful in proportion to the number of
men and women who are liice jetui: who are pure, and gentle,
and patient, and faithful ; who are bravely carrying their cross
and servingtheir fellow-men, and making life sweeter, and striv-
ing after the best things. These arc the saints, who neither pre-
tend nor assume, who win and convert, w° tout knowing it, to
whom all are drawn as to the feet and lowly place of the Holy
Child.

The Nativity of Jesus was a-i » vent with a date — which is not
at all certain ; it is also an influence which is perennial, and is
daily working spiritual miracles. Nothing has ever done so much
for purity as the poem of the Madonna and the Child. It must
ever '. right for morality to condemn the foul license of the
fl«V., and to pursue the unrepentant sinner with its penalties,
)Ut the policy of repression has never succeeded like the policy
of replacement. Neither conscience nor commandments have
made impurity so flagitious and loathsome, or lent to purity
sanftions so august and lovely, as the Idyll of Bethlehem. In
the most lawless ages, and in the foulest minds within the range
of Christian thought, the Virgin has cast her shield over the
defenceless and created a new reverence for womanhood. To sin
against a woman is to insult the mother of Jesus, and to proted
a woman is to serve her who was counted worthy of the angel's
message. If one be haunted by unholy thoughts and beset by
fiery temptations, he had better make his way to the place where
a pure mother bends over the Divine Child and the sacred mys-
teries of womanhood and motherhood are glorified.
It is here also that one is delivered from the glamour and fas-
cination of this present world, which is apt to catch even spirit-
ual hearts in its tangling net. VVc walk too much by sight, and
are much taken by gold and silver, by purple and fine linen, by
pomp and palaces, and are not firmly convinced that those may
be only the accessories of folly and tyranny, and that beauty of

[34]

THE FLIGHT

He took the young child and his mother by n^ht, and dcparted.-
Matthew, II. 14^

smttBtmm

THE IDYLL OF BETHLEHEM

life lies in its simplicity and nobility. Beside the manger and
the maiden of Nazareth, how poor and ashamed are Herod's
blood-stained glory and the palace of a Roman procurator!
They are not worthy to be mentioned save as a foil and con-
trast. What art has been inspired by Herod, though they called )
him Great? What traveller has sought for the place where \
Pilate lived ? Herod is known now to the world because he had
the will to slay Jesus; Pilate because he crucified Him. But the
finest genius had laid its treasures, with the Wise Men, at the
feet of this poorest of all children, and to the imagined site of
the Nativity thousands of the religious come from the ends of the
earth. So unreal is this world we see, so eternal the world of faith.
And the Nativity remains the appreciation and reinforcement '
of love, the chief and most beneficent of all passions. With all
of us there may be times when the baser passions seem to sway
life and dire<ft its issues; there may even be moments when it
seems as if ambition, greed, envy, hatred, were omnipotent. The
8to' test heart is ready now to fail ; for if these be the lords of
life, the end must be death. Then is it that one had better visit
Bethlehem, and learn of a truth that beneath all the spume
upon the surface of life the deepest current,which is ever running
clear and strong, is love, the love of man for woman, of mother
for child, of friend for friend, of God for us all, which love has
been declared and enshrined at Bethlehem. Without love the
king's palace :. a prison; with love a stable is the vestibule of
heaven. Without the light of l(jve life is a hopeless mystery,
with it life is an open secret ; for as the ages pass we are coming
to see that the way to all truth and the unity after which science
and philosophy and faith seek are to be found in the Nativity of
Jesus. .

[35]

\i-l

Chapter IV: The Home of Jesus

IS the traveller journeying by rail-
way along the Riviera is tan-
talised by the glimpses of blue
between the tunnels, so are we
fired to desire a complete biog-
raphy of the Master from Beth-
lehem to Calvary by the brief
memorabilia of the Evangel-
ists, and especially we should
love to have a Gospel of the
Childhood. What wise sayings
must have fallen from His fresh lips; what beautiful aftions He
must have done ; what gracious services He must have rendered !
Would not the Child Christ have been as winsome and con-
vincing as the Galilean Christ? And yet may it not be that we
are at such times cherishing a false and sickly imagination of
the young Christ, conceiving Him to be not only simple and
stainless, but also self-conscious and artificial — a prodigy of
power and wisdom ? What if there were nothing to tell that
would satisfy our curiosity ? — nothing save the delicate blossom
of goodness in the spring-time; nothing but the subtle sugges-
tions of hidden Divinity, which none but His mother could
appreciate? Would it not be profanity to pidure Jesus as that
monster of precocity — the good child of religious fidlion? Are
we not bound in reverence to believe that at every stage of life
He would be utterly and perfeftly natural. With the supreme

[37]

ll4l
'f

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

good taste of Holy Scripture it is simply written that the Child
increased .n stature and in wisdom.and in favour with God and
man. Place this perfedl epitome of a young life against the
memoirs of modern heroes, with their paiLl awT;:^^^^^^^
or rencence; wuh their ardent exaggerations and unwholesome
fanc,e . or b«.de the Apocryphal Gospels, with their wretched
banal ties and incredible nursery tales, and one is thankful for
the silences and dignity of the Evangelists
It IS enough that Jesus lived His first thirty years at home in
Nazareth, since home gathers into it the five Lors which in-
fluence nature when it is plastic and give it a permanent shape.
The first IS that word which is of one blood with home.sin^
none can think of home without at the same time iying

Tom "■ 7k T J" '^"' "^y '^ ^ ^--' ^^^- - not I
iTrf u .^\"'^° ^^r°* ''"°-" her care will be a loser all
his life, t IS she who furnishes the dwelling-place with peac
and beauty, who creates the atmosphere in which the sensitive
nature of a child puts forth its green and tender leaf, in which
youth IS inspired with visions and nobility, to which manhood
wil lever return for sympathy and appreciation. In the Bible,
which IS the standard record of human life, the mother ha^
prepared the servants of God fi-om Moses to Samuel, from David
to the Baptist, but among all women and mothers surely the
rnost blessed is Mary. Christians may not all unite in paVng
almost Divme honours to the Virgin, or in believing that shf
IS an intercessor with her Son. but surely in every reveLt mind
she must have a solitary place who brought Jesus into this

ml ' .^"V'f ""•=' 2 "'^ '"'^"^y ''^ ^-'l- offices of
motherhood, whom, as His mother. He cared for in the cot-

^ge of Nazareth, and whom He committed on the cross to

His friend. And no one can read St. Luke's Gospel without

I ^-ognising in the mother of Jesus the very ideal of woman-

[38]

I. Ill

THE HOME OF JESUS

Many qualities go to that image of the Pcrfcdt Woman which
every man carries in his heart and first associates with his
mother, which he proteds from the stain of every evil thought,
and which is daily alluring him to holiness. Beauty is hers in
the nature of things, for one does not think of form and colour,
but of the soul, which maketh heaven of the face; and it is not
merely the unbroken tradition of the Church, nor the fame of
the women of Nazareth, but a sense of fitness as we read her
life, which represents the Virgin with a face of meek and holy
loveliness, as becometh the handmaid of the Lord. The face of
the Madonna was the first thing of earth the Infant saw when
He opened His eyes in the manger, and through His boyhood
its spiritual grace would be as a bit of that heaven from which
He came. Whether a mother be brilliant or clever is of little
account; but it is of great price that her mind be noble and sen-
sitive to the Highest — that she be visited by those profound
thoughts which have their home in the unseen, and be inspired
by unworldly enthusiasms. Mary was only a village maiden,
but the Spirit of God bloweth where It listeth, and to her we
owe one of the most majestic hymns of the Church Catholic.
It mattered nothing that she was not learned after the fashion
of the scribes, she had seen the angel who stands in the pres-
ence of God ; it was less than nothing that she lived in a house
of two rooms, since it opened into Eternity. For her Divine
motherhood Mary was prepared twice — once because she had
so little of the world which is seen, once because she had so
much of the world which is not seen. Upon a mother is laid
a charge beside which nothing in the world can be compared —
the fostering of the soul. If she teach her son to have regard to
himself, to make friends with the children of unrighteousness,
to satisfy himself with ignoble ease, to covet material treasures,
then has she betrayed her trust and sold her son as with a kiss.
If she train her son to set the eternal above all things of sense,

[39]

»'i

(

If [ >

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

one meets h.8 br.de, to fear none and nothing save God-then
shall that son be twice born of his mother Jonce of her bo^y
and once of her soul ; and her son may be cast out of synlg^L'

a saTnt "^ °^ ''^^ '«" "* ^^^ "^^'^^ ^^^ hero and

After his mother the next most potent influence in a lad's life
s knowledge, which is gathered from wise men. from book,
and from places of learning. Nazareth was a village too simple
and rough to have many instructors, but it were nft just to fo
get Joseph, to whose calm judgment and proved har ty to
whose discretion and faithfulness, the young child must have

which, with Mao^ s faith, secured quietness of life. Before the

oul He had learned the excellence of earthly fatherhood, and

Llent tt """' T"\"'"' J"" Pronounc'esfather there isa

ilenttest.monytothechara<aerandofficesofJoseph.Onejudges

^lad unfortunate in our time who has been'born into a hous"

wherethereiseverythmgexcept books, andwould consider him

«df on n r "r." ^ ^"^^ '°"^^ '' " ''^ -'^ - books.^
each one will be a kingdom. For Jesus there could be only Cnc

book, but It was the best-the Law and the Prophets. Cer taL

portions of Deuteronomy would be kept by the door^and r«2

sITdf '' "'r'" " i! ^"'"'"^"'^^'^ *^' ^ ^^« Law of'the Lo"d
should be taughtunto thechildren in risingu; and sitting down

rumbi?h'" : uTr^ "^^''"^ '>^^^'= ^^^y- whctLtha;

humble household had any other portion of the Divine Law
in written form is doubtful, so that what the poorest child may
have to-day was most likely denied to the Master-the posses-

from a law of Jesus the son of Gamaliel, the high priest about

[40]

THE HOME OF JESUS

A.D. 64 — a school in such a village as Nazareth, where the
young boys would be educated by a teacher, and the education
would be in the Scriptures. Here day by day Jesus would com-
mit to memory portions of the Old Testament, and so He
gathered that treasure of Holy Scripture whence He drew argu-
ments, defences, promises, guidance in the days of His ministry.
As we know. He had learned Aramaic, the dialect of Syria; as
we are nearly certain, He understood Hebrew, which is to
Aramaic what Latin is to Italian ; as we take for granted, Jesus
also spoke Greek, being an inhabitant of Galilee of the Gen-
tiles; and, as is possible, He may have known something of
Latin, the language of government, the Master was not without
the culture of varied speech, although He never had the dubious
privilege of attending the schools of the rabbis in Jerusalem,
and was happily free from the cultus of Jewish theology.
Besides Joseph and His mother, Jesus had to do with certain
who were called His brethren, and for a time may have lived
in the house with Him. Certain have held that these men were
His full brethren, that is, the sons of Joseph and Mary; but
against this it must be urged that the whole bearing of these
brethren is that not of younger but of older men ; that if they
had been the sons of the Virgin, Jesus would have committed
her to their charge before His death, and also that after the
birth of Jesus, to suppose that Mary was the mother of chil-
dren by Jo?eph is to many minds incredible and profane. If
they were the half-brethren of Jesus, and the sons of some less
spiritual mother than Mary, one can understand their unbelief
in thi> younger brother with his unworldly ideals and Divine
aspirations. One can also understand that Jesus must have suf-
fered in the home during His early years through iheir misun-
standing and criticism, and that He was, i\\ some measure,
prepared by this discipline for the gauntlet of Pharisaic fault-
finding and slander. It must have been one of the veriest trials and

[40

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

reproaches of J«>U8, that while He made such unreserved and
confident claims upon His followers, they of His own household
did not believe in Him; and this is another illustration of the
pathetic fact that those who are nearest are often blindest to
goodness and cannot see what is plain to all the world.
Among the fadlors which went to form the charadter of the
Master one must not forget or belittle labour, since for at least
fifteen years Jesus followed the trade of Joseph and wrought as
a carpenter. One imagines Him fashioning the wood with much
the same tools which are used in Nazareth this day, taking care
that the last touch of perfedlion be not wanting, and casting
away the labour of a day if it were faulty, carrying His finished
work to some rich man's house, asking for His wage that He
might relieve His mother's care, and leaving without it to come
back some other day. So the Master of us all has set the whole-
some example of labour to all His disciples ; so He has made
Himself one unto all generations with them who toil and sweat;
so He has dignified and sanctified honest work of every kind —
from that of the hand-laljourer to that o? the poet. As He
struggled with intradtable material and accomplished perfect
shapes with poor rough tools, the Master was learning already
that patience and hopefulness, that skill in handling knotty and
unpromising human material, whereby He was to change sin-
ners into saints and Galilean peasants into apostles. For he who
has never had to do with anything save books and ideas is apt
to be repelled and daunted by stupidity, but he who has wrought
in wood can see the carved tabernacle hidden within the gnarled
trunk. They counted it a loss in His day that Jesus had not
studied in the schools of the rabbis at Jerusalem ; we are thank-
ful that instead He worked with His hands at Nazareth, and
that for His Apostles He chose men whose nerves were calm
and strong, whose minds were habituated to the slew, persever-
ing methods of toil.

[43]

:> I

JESUS LAIRING AT HOME WITH JOSEPH AND

MARY

And he went down with them, and
ifttb^t unto them. — Luke, il» |i.

Nazareth, and was

■*?•«

If,

i A / U.
<•(:</ hr: ..'TiltSi./ <)) MfPji'j hfir, ,in»ilv rfl: '• nw.i t.f'; ;f, bft.'

(;

THE HOME OF JESUS

It was also, as wc discover from His after-speech, a pure joy and
a means of education to the Master that He spent His youth m
a highland village. Two men do not begin life on equal terms
if one has had his first sight of life in a squalid street of a crowded
city, and another has spent his childhood on a green hillside.
One expefts the less from the dock labourer earning his bread
hardly by a polluted river, one expedls the more from a shepherd
who all day long follows his sheep through lovely solitudes.
Nazareth itself lies in a valley, but Jesus had only to climb the
hillside, and the Holy Land and the very history of Israel was
spread out before Him. Beneath, as one looks southwards, was
the plain of Esdraelon, the site of many battles and glorious
deeds, and the mountains of Samaria. To the east Tabor, rises
from the plain, richly wooded and perfedl in its symmetry,
whence Barak descended upon Sisera with ten thousand after
him, and where the rabbis thought the Temple ought to have
been built. Carmel, where Elijah beat back the forces of pagan-
ism, stood out from the shore of the sea, which was another
name for the West, and whose shores were to see the triumphs
of Jesus' Evangel. Northwards were the hills round the sea of
Galilee, and distant Hermon, which was ever capped with snow,
and made the boundary of the Holy Land.
As the Master wandered round the ridge of the cup in which
Nazareth lay, with open ear and understanding eye. He gathered
that harvest of imagery with which He afterwards delighted
and instruded His disciples. There He saw the sun rise in grey-
ness over the valley of the Jordan, and go down in red upon
the waters of the great sea; the mountain torrent sweeping
away the house built on the sand, and the leaves tossed to and
fro as the wind blew where it listed; tlie sower going forth to
sow on his four kinds of soil, and the husbandman pruning the
vine that it might bring forth more fruit ; the mountain flowers
fairer than Solomon in all his glory, and the birds for whom

[43]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

HJs Heavenly Father cared; the fox creeping home to its lair
and the vultures gathering to their prey. From amongst the

T .T '^" "" ^'' "'"'■ ^"^ '^^^' fr"'" the simple home
where Mary made an atmosphere of quiet, from the study of
Gods word, and from long meditations in the evening and
mormng hours. Jesus came forth at the Divine call to declare
the Father whose vo.ce He had heard in a secret place, and to
establish the Kingdom which the Prophets had imagined

[44]

Chapter V : The Call of the Messiah

IHE consciousness of Jesus is a
supreme mystery, and in the
end one has simply to accept
the fafts and speculate with
much modesty and diffidence
about their theory, because
when Jesus says "I" the word
compasses the poles of Divin-
ity and humanity. If it be
" Before Abraham was, I am,"
or "Father, glorify Thou Me
with the glory which I had with Thee before the world was,"
or " I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life," then this is an
Eternal Person and not one of this age Who is speaking, and
Jesus did speak after this fashion. If it be " Get thee behind Me,
Satan, for it is written, 'Thou shall worship the Lord Thy God,
and Him only shalt thou serve,' " or " Nevertheless I must walk
to-day, and to-morrow, and the day following, for it cannot be
that a prophet perish out of Jerusalem," or " My God, My God,
why hast Thou forsaken Me?"then this is one of ourselves Who
speaks: a Man of like struggles, sorrows, passions, and limita-
tions. The "I" of Jesus means sometimes Very God of Very
God, and sometimes Very Man of Very Man, and yet there is
but one Person Who is not embarrassed by opposite experiences,
not inconsistent with Himself — Who is ever Jesus.
Many questions rise to one's mind regarding this relation of the

[45]

MalYi^

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

Divine and Human in our Master, and haunt the pious mind
vv.th a persistent fascination; but they belong to thedogy rather
than biography. One. however, is most prtdlical. and'L fa ' y
met m the Gospel history. When Jesus leaves His home at Naza-
reth, and appears before the people on the Jordan He is con
scious o His high calling as the Messiah, and thi^ "„: Zn"
deepened as He moved forward to the Cross. It was an amaz-
ing claim for any man to make; the more amazing for one who
was neither a priest nor a scribe, but a humble and unlearned
person. Was this a sudden revelation which had been given Jesus
or had It been an inborn conviction of His mind since first He
knew anything ? Was there any moment when the latent con-
sciousness of His Messiahship awoke in Him. and He said unto

prophecy? This is a reverent and reasonable question, and it
.s answered in the Gospels; for if the veil be only once lifted
from Jesus early years, it is to show us His Divine vocation
While the call of God is ever incalculable and secret, like 'the
mystery of the winds, yet there is also a certain setting of cir-
cumstances, and the first in Jesus' case was His age. One period
•s not the same as another in the development of human life
but certain are critical and dominant, dwarfing the years before'
and swallowing up those to come. The most influential cannot'
be exaftly fixed, since it comes sooner to some and later to
others; but when it does arrive, neither can it be mistaken.
Come this^year when ,t may. at twelve or sixteen, it closes the
door on childhood and opens it on manhood. It is that narrow
space on the crest of the hill, which opens a new prospeft hitherto
unimagined. and sends the streams of thought and energy in an-
other direaion. When a lad begins to understand life and him-
self; to consider what has to be done in the world, and to
calculate his share in the work ; to hear voices calling from the
open, and to catch the Divine echo in his soul,_he chan.es

L46] ^

THE CALL OF THE MESSIAH

before our eyes, as when the sap stirs in the trees at spring-
time. He is suddenly dissatisfied with his surroundings; vague
dreams of the future possess him; his very eyes have a distant
look. For him old things are passing away, and all things will
soon be new. It was at the age of twelve that Jesus became a
man, and then it was that the slumbering instindt of the Eternal
awoke in Jesus, and He realised Himself.
Another influence which tells on a youthful soul in the day of
its second birth is History. Through his boyhood the lad has
lived in some secluded valley where the familiar hills make a
horizon, as in Nazareth, and the petty affairs of the village are
life, with only an occasional view of the land in its length and
breadth, and a faint echo of the larger life. The little commune
is to him the commonwealth, and its heads his heroes. One day
he climbs the imprisoning hills and passes out into the great
world, where he finds himself one in the procession of his na-
tion, and the past, studded with mighty deeds, bends over him.
He awakes to the fadt that he is part of a people, with its own
chara<5ler, its own traditions, its own mission; he realises that
its glory is his heritage, its sins his burden, its service his charge.
If by his nationality he be separated 'rom other peoples, he is
linked the closer to his own, at whose name his heart burns, at
whose history his mind awakes. It was a Jewish custom of wis-
dom and felicity that in the year of emancipation a lad should
go up to keep the feast at Jerusalem ; for wheresoever he started,
a journey through that land of sacred memories would be an
education, and his coming to the capital an inspiration. Be-
tween Nazareth and Jerusalem, Jesus, with Joseph and Mary,
would pass through the fertile and lovely plains of Esdraelon,
brilliant with flowers ; and Shuneni would recall Elisha, who
in his gentleness and tolerance followed Elijah, as Jesus fol-
lowed the Baptist ; and He would see Gibeah, the birthplace
of the first king of Israel, and very likely rest by the well of

[471 '

:ir

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

Jacob, whose spiritual intensity gave a new name to his people.
Prophets, kings, and patriarchs would arise and accompany
Him on His way, and the purpose of Jewish history, growing
from age to age, would become luminous. As the little com-
pany sung the Psalms of degrees, " I was glad when they said
unto me. Let us go into the House of the Lord," or " If it
had not been the Lord Who was on our side, now may Israel
say," or "When the Lord turned again the captivity of Zion,"
the inextinguishable hope of the poets of Israel would take dis-
tinct shape in Jesus' mind. And when at last the great city burst
upon His view, beautiful for situation, the joy of the whole
earth, and the immense Temple, its massy white and gold
glistening in the sunshine — the symbol and centre of Jewish
religion,then the veil, which had been for years growing trans-
parent, would fade away and disappear from before Jesus' eyes;
and He would come to the spiritual realities behind the figures
and prophecies of His people's history.

And in the awakening of youth perhaps the chief factor is a
master, and herein we have one of the supreme illustrations of
.-person?] and intelledlual influence. Within some class-room, out \
j of sig':.' and knowledge of the multitude, a teacher speaks to a j
haridfii' . young men concerning the principles which lie be- [
hind life. He challenges their intelledual curiosity : he fans their (
smouldering imagination into flame ; he shows them the door into '
treasure-houses of knowledge. By-and-by they will have left
him and gone throughout the land and among the people ; they
will fire the enthusiasm of thousands and move them to right-
eousness: they will change the face oflife and open new chapters
of human progress: and they will ascribe their first inspiration
to that master. It was not what he had taught them nor that '
they had always agreed with him: it was that he made them
think, and led the way. Within a restri<fted measure this service
was rendered to Jesus by the dodlors of the Temple when He

[48]

Ell I

THE CALL OF THE MESSIAH

was at the feast. The feasts were not merely a round of religious
ceremonies: thev were also a convention for religious discussion.
What time the people did not give to Temple duties they de-
voted to theology; and although many of the questions may
have been very trivial and the scholars very pedantic, yet some
of the former went to the heart of things, and some of the latter
were able and learned persons. During the day the doftors sat
in council administering the law as the supreme tribunal cf the
nation, and then in the evening they met any who chose to come
in an outer court of the Temple and desired to learn. Just as
to-day in the Mosque of Al-Azhar. at Cairo, masters of repute
sit on the floor surrounded by their pupils and an outer group
of casual hearers, so the Jewish rabbis held their class tor all
and sundry, counting it good to create the thir^t for knowledge.
It was a democracy of learning and an open school for the people.
With a mysterious future opening before Him and the Round
of the Divine Voice in His soul, Jesus found this fountain of
knowledge, and was so fiiscinated that He forgot everything else
and allowed His parents to start without Him. It was not til
evening that they found that He was not anywhere in the com-
pany, which straggled in groups on the homeward way; and
when they returned to Jerusalem, it was to see a strange sight
Their son, whose quietness and lowliness were the delight of
His parents and the example of Nazareth, was standing in the
presence of the chief doftors. Round the old men and the youth
a crowd had gathered, and as Mary came near she heard Jesus-
voice. He was asking questions and giving answers to questions
with such insight and wisdom that the rabbis were astonished.
No one can read the account without keen sympathy, and no
one can refuse his imagination some liberty. Who were these
favoured men to whom the honour came of satisfying the awak-
ening mind of Jesus, and what was the subjeft of their conver-
sation? Was old Hillel still living, of whom the proselyte said,

[49]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

(i;

"Gentle Hillel, let all blessings fall upon thy head, that thou
hast brought me under the wings of the Divine glory"; and
whose counsel was, " Be thou of Aaron's disciples, loving peace
and seeking for peace, loving the creatures and attrarting them
to the law!" It is pleasant to think that this kindest and wisest
of all Jewish rabbis, of whose gracious sayings some have found
an echo in Jesus ords, had laid his hand on the Master's head
and blessed Him — another Simeon receiving the wisdom of
God into his heart. Was Shammai.the head of the harder school
and Hillel's opponent, in the Temple thatday.and did hisstern-
ness relax before the sweetness and light of the young Christ?
It is almost certain that Gamaliel, so cool and judicious in
intelle<a, and Nicodemus, so fair and candid, would be present
and have their part. Did any of the younger men remember the
incident twenty years afterwards, when, in that very Temple,
Jesus defended Himself and His do<itrine against all parties?
or when He stood before the council and was condemned as a
blasphemer? Did Gamaliel then identify the dangerous heretic
with the brilliant lad who had so excited and delighted the
dodors of the law ? It is not likely, for that was but an inci-
dent, and many things had happened since. Are we to suppose
that Jesus received clear light and guidance in His Messianic
career from the rabbis, or that their theology left any trace on
His thinking ? It is hardly necessary to answer this question : one
of Jesus' chief faults in Jerusalem was His independence of rab-
binism. Yet it remains a faft of much interest that the awaken-
ing of Jesus' intelleftual life is to be dated, not in Nazareth,
among the simple village folk, but among the rabbis in the
Temple. So full of service and stimulus is learning, even in its
most bigoted and arid forms.

It is with a keen sense of disappointment that one reads Mary's
remonstrance with Jesus, wherein she seemed to have no pride
in that understanding which filled the Temple circle with aston-

[50]

THE CALL OF THE MESSIAH

ishmcnt, but rather complained of the anxiety which He had
caused His parents. No doubt her very complaint was an indireft
testimony to the obedience and thoughtfulness of Jesus' home
life. Who until that day had given them no care. No doubt it
also bore witness of their utter devotion to the FIolv Child. And
yet ought not the N'irgin at Iciht, w ho had been so favoured of
Heaven, to have expeded such revelations of Jehus' power, as
when the sun shineth from behind the clouds, and to have re-
joiced therein with reverence, as one who had received another
visit of the .agel? When Mary broke in on that amazing de-
bate, and inflifted on Jesus the humiliation of her interference,
she fell somewhat below her high estate, but she was still true
mother. It is not at once that the most understanding and spirit-
ual of mothers recognises that the Divine Spirit is nearest to her
Son's soul, and that to Him also comes His vocation. It is not
without many misgivings and heart-pangs that she surrenders
her Son and sees Him go His own way. Again and again she will
repent herself and desire to save Him from His own zeal. For we
are all blind and slow of heart to understand that the Divine
vocation is paramount and irresistible for child or friend, and
that none can meddle between the soul and God without risk of
defeat and disaster.

Jesus' answer to His mother's reproof and His submission —
His first recorded adion — are both altogether worthy, and
struck the keynote of that life which was to move before God
and man like a perfeft symphony. With astonishment full of
respeft and afFedlion, He appealed to His mother whetht r she
could not understand His desire to learn the purposes of God,
and His necessity to fulfil His Father's will : " Wist ye not that
I must be about My Father's business?" What a sudden and
convincing light does Jesus' reply cast on the private confer-
ences of Mary and her Child ! How this woman must have
spoken of God, and of the religious life, and of the inward call,

[5']

i i

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER :

and the loyalty of the soul, when Jesus was amazed that she did
not see her teaching fulfilled that day, and said, " Wist ye not?"
So it comes to pass that one may sow and not know the flower,
but yet it was good to have sown, and the sower has the har-
vest.

With perfedl fitness Jesus might have asked to remain in Jeru-
salem, and to sit at the rabbis' feet. We had been apt to say
that this would have been His best preparation for the office
of prophet, but we would have been short-sighted. For some
— a Saul, if you please — this might have been best; for Him
the atmosphere and studies of Jerusalem would have been a
hindrance, stifling and contrading His soul. For Him it was
best that He should be secluded in Nazareth, and live after a
simple, humble fashion till all things were ready for His work.
Between the Messiah-consciousness now growing within Him,
and the duty of respeft to His earthly parents there could be
no conflidt in Jesus' soul or life, because His growth was or-
derly and harmonious. For youth there may be many inspira-
tions which shall be the strength of after years ; but the first
discipline is obedience, and only he who has learned to wait and
submit shall be able to achieve. The will of God in a human
life is no shallow stream which loses itself in marshes and va-
grant channels, but it runneth deep and strong between the
banks of Divine Providence. Jesus heard the voice of God in
the Temple, and He went down to Nazareth, and was subject
to His parents.

[52]

b 1

^.M

Chap

ter VI: The Forerunner

T were true to say that Jesus
appeared without expe<5tation,
since none knew whence He
would come ; it were also true
to say that He came with cx-
pedlation, since a nation waited
for Him. None could have
guessed His birth — the child
of a village maiden, or His posi-
tion — a workman of Nazareth,
but every pious Jew was per-
suaded He would appear, and had seen His signs. For eight
centuries heralds had been going before Him and making a
pathway in the fiiith of the Hebrew Church. As often as their
hearts sickened at the failure of human goodness, the Prophets
beheld in the future the ideal figure of the Messiah; as often as
they were reinforced by the speftacle of conspicuous virtue, they
imagined its unrevealed perfedion. When the heritage of God
was spoiled and laid waste, they saw the Messiah gird His sword
upon His thigh; and when the sun shone on Israel, it was the
promise of the coming glory. From generation to generation
the most spiritual and heroic patriots ever granted to a people
fed the imagination of their brethren with the coming of a holy
King and the establishment of a universal kingdom.
This noble succession seemed to cease, and the voice of the
prophet was no longer heard in the land, but the Messianic hope

[53]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

still lived in the national heart, and found new forms of expres-
sion. When some despaired of God's commonwealth, and others
saw nothmg for it but to die sword in hand, unknown writers
h.d themselves behind great names of the past-saints, prophets
sages-and poured out their souls, some in pessimistic satires'
some m apocalyptic imaginations. The author of Ecclesiaste^
oewads the wearmess of human life and the corruption of so-
ciety wuh a bmerness of regret which is an unconscious cry for
Chrm. and the author of Daniel declares in a cryptogram' the
fall of foreign tyrannies and the vidory of the Son of Man
A nation, beaten and crushed by overwhelming force, yet un-
conquerable in spirit and immovable in faith, had an inward
convidion. begotten by the word of the Prophets and born of
the hostility of circumstances, that the promise given to the

the sudden redness in the east, and the forerunner of the dawn
was John Baptist.

There is a sense in which the prophet is a recurring faftor in
history, appearing as often as the Eternal uncovers a man's ear
and opens his mouth ; there is a sense in which prophecy began
and ended with the Hebrews, as a solitary gift of moral 'insight
and in tins way of it, and. excluding his Master, the last of the
hne was the Baptist. The spirit of prophecy, which for more
than a century had been smouldering beneath the ashes of
pedantry and formalism, blazed into flame before it went out
and disappeared for ever. And the last of the Prophets was like
unto the fir.., and as it were, completed the circle of prophecy.
Among all the order one Prophet specially held the Jewish
imagination, not only because he led in order of time, but also
because Elijah realised the elemental idea of a prophet and it
was the fond belief of the Jews that he who had opened the roll
of Old Testament revelation would close it as he ran before
the face of the Messiah. When Elias came again, the Messiah's

[54]

THE FORERUNNER

feet would already be on the threshold; and if this faith did not
hold in the letter, it was fulfilled in the spirit, for in Baptist the
mission of Elijah was revived, and prophecy ended as it had
begun.

Since the day when the Tishbite rallied the faint heart of Israel
and beat down the power of Baal, the prophet had filled many
parts, being in turn a statesman, an orator, a dramatist, a poet,
and his necessary charafter is apt therefore to be forgotten. It
was, however, inherent and unchangeable. He might be a leader
in politics and a man of culture; or he might live apart and
never write a word. Publicity and solitude are but the acces-
sories of the office ; the one thing essential is that he be in fellow-
ship with God, and that he have received a message from God
for his generation. God has spoken to him, and God's word is
as a living fire in his bones. It is a burden upon his soul, and
he is in an agony till he be delivered from its weight. Eloquent
speech and literary technique, shrewd plans and brilliant deeds
may be added, but the core of the prophecy is the word of the
Lord which this man has not composed, which at the peril of
his soul he must declare.

Were one to adopt a scientific definition of a miracle, and say
It IS "an avenue into the unseen," then surely the most amaz-
mg miracle is not fire coming down from heaven or death chang-
mg into life, but one of those lonely prophets who now and
again visit this earth. The generation from which he sprang dies
and is buried; the great dynasty under which he lived comes
to an end; the cities where he preached are laid in ruins; the
very face of the country through which he roamed is changed.
But this solitary man, without riches, or rank, or popularity
or learning, or any other external advaiitrore, defies the teeth
of time, and achieves a radiant immortality. His own generation
fears him, hates him, resists him, persecutes him, puts him to
death; but it yields to him, and does him homage, from the

[55]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

king to the mob, and he moulds it for the time like clay. But
that is only his inauguration, his ascension to the throne. Gener-
ation after generation receives him, responds to him, and owns
his sway. What the poet says of common men is true:

"Still glides the stream, and shall not cease to glide.

While we the brave, the mighty, and the wise

JVe men must vanish."

There is one exception : the prophet does not vanish. His per-
sonality becomes a fador in history : his message a perpetual
dynamic. As a corn of wheat he is flung into the ground, and
springs up age after age. Baptist or another, he is Elias which
was to come.

John Baptist was a commanding personality, who could not be
ignored in his own day or any other, for he was distinguished
from other men first of all by his calling. As the poet differs from
other men of letters because, while they may have ability and cul-
ture, he has the fire which cometh from Heaven, so the p-ophet
is raised above other teachers of religion because, while they may
have knowledge and devotion, he has the Divine breath. Both
the poet and the prophet move in the same region of emotion-
and vision, although the prophet be on the higher level, since
he is commissioned and sent forth directly by the Eternal. It is
possible to make an ordinary minister of religion, who shall
do honest and useful work for his generation. You have but to
choose a lad of good instinds, and give a certain trend to his
mind, and hold up before him the nobility of this service, and
train him by calculated means. No voice of man can call a
prophet, no machinery can make him fit. The Spirit of God
descends upon and sets him apart; a prophet he must be now,
and, in spite of all hindrances, a prophet he will be. He is him-
self helpless in this matter, and his fellow-men are also helpless,
A prophet is an unanswerable evidence of the sovereignty of

[56]

THE FORERUNNER

God, and this is the meaning of the story of John. He was
promised unto his parents when they had despaired of children,
and his father was stricken dumb because he believed not the
word. He was named according to the angelic intimation, anc'
the mouth of Zacharias was opened that he might call him
John. Before he was born he did homage to his mighty Kins-
man, before VWiose face he was to run. Signs and wonders at-
tended the child, and marked him off from the herd of men
as one on whom the hand of the Eternal was surely resting. His
father was one of the lower order of priests, and John was born
into a quiet, conventional home; his birth provided for his
future, and he could have served in his turn at the Temple, But
there is no caging an eagle or compelling him into ordinary
ways, and while still a lad, John forsook his father's house and
hid himself in the wilderness of Judea. There was in him an
instindt of his vocation, which made a common-place environ-
ment impossible for him, which drove him forth into a wider
sphere. So early did this prophet hear the Divine voice, so early
was he separated from his fellows. When art represents the Bap-
tist, a man old before his time, austere, careworn, wasted, as in
the fresco of Angelico, the figure is true and commanding ;
when he stands out a lad in the freshness of youth, strong, fresh,
enthusiastic, as in the John Baptist of Del Sarto, one has the
necessary complement of the other pifture.
The Baptist was also the subjeftof a complete prophetical train-
ing, for when ne came forth and witnessed unto his generation,
he was the result of three forces, and the first was asceticism.
It is not needful that every servant of God should be an ascetic,
and for some work this discipline would be a hindrance; but
in every age some are called to the last sacrifices. For the brief,
awful ministry of the Baptist, the breaking up of the iron soil,
he only was sufficient who had been cut off from all human
ties, and had denied himself all lawful ease. Clad in the coarsest

[57]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

i f

of garments, eating the meanest of food, devoted to poverty and
chastity, this man was a figure and sign of religious intensity.
Behind the camels' hair and the locusts' "ood, and the wasted
face, and the strong, fierce words, was one unquenchable desire
— to obtain the Kingdom of God for himself and his nation.
For this end he refuse;d the priesthood, and abandoned his home
and lived as a hermit, ?nd preached repentance in the wilder-
ness of Judea, and watched for the Messiah as they who watch
foi ■■ morning. Beyond all question the Baptist was a violent
man, who did violence to his generation, to his friends, to him-
self; but he was not therefore a madman or fanatic. His was
an inspired and calculated violence. It was the planned assault
by which an army storms a treasure city ; it was the stroke of
force in which a human soul gathers itself together and strikes
for eternal life. The Baptist remains iht outstanding type of
that spiritual violence, whose goal and crown are the Kingdom
of Heaven.

John was also formed by solitude, and could not have been the
prophet we know f^or have shaken Jerusalem with terror had he
spent his early days amid the gossip of the village and the little
affairs of his home. His ear must be trained to catch the first
sound of Jesus' feet, and the Babel of earth'- .nixed noises must be
hushed into stillnf"5s. Amid the coming and going of priests at
their empty ritual, and the gabble of Pharisees at their theology
he should have been deaf to the highest things. His heart must be
cleansed from the likeness of other faces, however dear and good,
that from its clear, unpossessed surface the countenance of the
Messiah might one (lay look at him. His mind must be emptied
of present-day religion and earthly politics, that it be ready for
the possession of the Messiah. While the city folk, living amid
noise and news, are apt to be shallow and excited, they who
live apart from the haunts of men, and see God's mighty works,
occupy themselves with great mysteries. By an instindt of his

[58]

THK VOICE OF ONE CRYING
The voice of one crying in the wilderness. — Luke, III. 4.

; !1 ■!

THE FORERUNNER

office, John chose his solituJe in the wilderness of f udea, whose
awful desolation of barren hills and waterless valleys stretches
al >g the valley of the Dead Sea, and thrusts itself to within
a few miles of Jerusalem. Here John saw tne bleahed white
stones out of which God could raise up children unto Al.raham
in pi: e if a wicked generation, and the vipers escaping from
the burning bushes to which he compared the Pharisees. This
unprofitable and unlovely waste, where none but wild beasts and
reptiles made their home, was to t'le vision of the Baptist a too
faithfulpidlureofhii generation, which had lost all greenness
of faith, and harboured in its bosom all manner of secret, treach-
erous sins.

His library in his retreat was chiefly to be found within his
own soul and in the pifture of that forsaken desert, but he was
not without his teacher of the ancient time. If he was to be
the real Elijah in his coming and office, he was to be the echo
of the two Isaiahs in his thought and preaching. As the former
took up the Lord's controversy against His people and rated
Jerusalem soundly for her hollow ritualism and elaborate hy-
pocrisy, which made "many prayers," with her hands "fi " of
blood," so the Baptist laid his indidlment against his generation
for their vain show of religion and their hardness of heart.
From that heroic witness of the eighth century John learned
his self-aSncgation, his single-heartedness, his spiritual patriot-
ism, and his unshaken courage. From the second Isaiah, the
most evangelical of the whole succession, John received ? more
gracious and yet more effiidlive message, for it is evident that
John knev, not onl) the beginning of the book of Isaiah, but
also ivs fifty-third chapjrr. After a day of sad reflexion on the
ungodliness of h 3 people and of righteous indignation, he would
sii dov/n, and in the fading light, when the fierce glare of the
day V as over, content himself with the ^bought of the Servant
o^ God on 'vhom the Lord would lay the iniquities of Israel.

[59]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTEH

and who would be led a» a lamb to the ulaughter. As he medi-
tated with softening heart on the Hoi) VidUm and the Lord'i
mei cy, then the bare and stony land would change oefore hit
eyes, and, behold, green grast and fountains of water, and the
promise regarding the Kingdom of God was fulfilled: "The
wilderness and the solitary place shall be glad for them, and
the desert shall rejoice and blossom like the rose."
It was good that the Baptist should live in the fearful and lonely
desert that he might thunder repentance in the ears of the pass-
ing caravans, till a nation came to hear and trembled. For a
prophet's first duty is to bring the men in his charge face to
face with reality, and to hold them there till they do righteous-
ness. People are apt in all ages to speculate about religion, and
to take their own ideas for truth; to invent all kinds of rites,
and to forget that these arc but poor machinery at the best; to
fall into a multitude of customs which are in their spirit selfish
and sinful; to call themselves by flattering names, while they
are dead. It is for the prophet to break up these refuges of lies,
and to pull down eviry painted screen, and to leave the man
naked that he may settle his account with God. It can neve-
be right to think what is not true, never right to do what is
wrong, never wise to rely on anything save truth and righteous-
ness. What are you believing, what are you doing, not before
man, but before God? is the prophet's continued question. He
must arouse and alarm and hr oS till human beings abandon all
shams and make-belie' s, ana conventions, and forms. He stands,
not before this world, which iz in his eyes but a vain show: he
stands before the Eternal, and recalls men to the sense of God.
While thr world lasts there will be room for this Elias-work,
but it is only temporary and elementary ; Elias prepares for
Him who is to follow. Elijah did bravely according to his light
when he put to death the priests of Baal, for the Baal-worship
was a foul, base thing; but Isaiah struck a nobler note in his

[60]

THE FORERUNNER

conception of the suffering Mewiah.John Haptist wrought a
great woric when he told the scribes and Pharisees that the axr
was at the ro< of their tree, ind that the fruitless trees would
certain!' be burned; when he warned the publicans against
dishonesty and the soldiers against violence, and commanded
charity for all men — but this was only the preface to his mcs-
•age. He summoned to repentance, because only penitents
would have a right to enter into the Kingdom of Heaven, and
the Kingdom was at hand. He baptised with water in Apn that
He was comiiv Who would baptise them with the H. . ^ Jhost
'and with fire. As the Baptist preached, his eyes sou, '.t .1 jong
the people for Him, the latchet of Whose shoes he counted
hi-nself not worthy to loose; and John had fulfilled his min-
is > when he said to spiritual and penitent men, " Behold the
Lamb of God, Who is taking away the tin of the world." '

[61]

Chapter VII: The Baptism

HE meeting of Jesus and John,
and the recognition of the
Messiah by His forerunner,
is one of the picturesque situ-
ations in the Gospel history,
and it is perfedl in its sponta-
neity. As the Baptist brooded
in the wilderness over the
prophecies of the ancient
time, and as he declared unto
the multitude with strong
conviaion that the " kingdom of God " was at hand, the one
passion of his life rose to white heat, and his eager heart was
eaten up with expedlation. The atmosphere of the age was
charged with the sense of the Messiah, and the lonely prophet
strained his e&'-s to catch the first sound of His feet. Any day,
and, for that matter, any hour, the romance of faith might cul-
minate, and the Hope of Israel appear. Every morning the
hermit would rise and leave his home hewn out of the rock,
which tradition gives him for a dwelling-place, to wait for the
breaking of the day, since the rising of the sun might be the
shining of His face, and he would lie down with sad reluc-
tance, and hardly dare to sleep lest the darkness be the shadow
of his Lord. Was the Christ already in the land, hidden and
unknown, or would He come from afar with sudden glory ?
Would He show Himself by infallible signs, so that all men

[63]

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THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

should be compelled to own Him, or would He appear secretly,
putting all men to the test by His presence, and already, before
He was recognised, doing the part of a husbandman, with His
fan separating the wheat from the chaff? It is certain that the
Baptist had been saved from one vain delusion by his study of
Isaiah : he did not expedl the imperial Messiah of the gross
Jewish imagination, but as little was he prepared to recognise
his Lord, before Whom he had run, and Whose voice he had
been, among the crowd who heard his message of repentance
and submitted to the sacrament of penitence. Yet it was in these
circumstances that the Baptist one day identified Jesus of Naza-
reth as the Christ, and knew that his work had not been in
vain.

It may be suggested, with some reason, that John had surely
known for years the birth and calling of Jesus, and ought not
to have waited as in a mystery. Was he not the kinsman of
Jesus, and had not a tender confidence passed between Eliza-
beth his mother and Mary the mother of Jesus? When John
separated himself from his home and his people, and gave
himself in his youth to be the herald of the Messiah, and Jesus
declared to His mother that He had come to do the work of
His Father in Heaven, would not other confidences pass be-
tween the holy women, and Elizabeth rejoice that as she had
done homage to Mary her son was preparing the way for Jesus ?
As we weave this romance of the Holy Family, we set it in the
light of afterwards, and forget how the most sacred and vivid
spiritual experiences fade and lose their meaning even with
saintly souls, so that Jesus once gently chided His mother be-
cause she forgot the mystery of His annunciation and nativity,
saying, " Wist ye not ? " And John had evidently learned nothing
of his august Kinsman from Elizabeth, for he once declared
unto the Pharisees, " I knew Him not." With even these intense
and holy persons, rare and exalted experiences remained only

[64]

THE BAPTISM

a faint, fragrant memory, which might be quickened into life,
but meanwhile carried no pradtical influence
The Baptist had never, so far as we know, seen Jesus before, and
It was a gain and not a loss, that he did not know the Messiah
after the flesh, for in that moment of revelation he recognised
Him. with the vision of the soul, after the spirit. When John
was arrested by the visible holiness of Jesus, and identified Him
as the Christ on Whose head rested the mystical Dove, and
afterwards declared boldly that He was the Lamb of God he
proved at once his own fine spiritual perception and thcinheient
gloryof Jesus As he lived alone in the wilderness and studied
the outlines of the Messiah's likeness in the mirror of Isaiah
It had grown real and living before his eyes, and the very face
was printed on his soul. One day that which he had imagined
flashed on him in all its spiritual loveliness, and the Baptist did
the Messiah instant homage. It is related of St. Francis, and it
IS perhaps the most beautiful incident in the peVfedl life of the
saint, that, seeing a pure white lamb in the midst of a flock of
goats, he stood still and was much afl^efted. "Behold." said he
to his foUowers-for to St. Francis the outer world was ever
a sacrament of the spiritual- "Jesus in the midst of sinners."
It was after this fashion Jesus was identified as the Messiah—
a portrait of perfedt holiness framed in the blackness of those
sinners of Jerusalem.

When the day of His discovering to Israel had fully come just
asm a lower world birds know the seasons of their .omingand
going. Jesus, moved by the infallible instindl of the Messiah-
ship, left His home, where from childhood to manhood He had
done the will of God in quietness. He took His way by the
road which crosses the plain of Jezreel. and follows the moun-
tains of Samaria and Judea. and comes at last to the place where
John was baptising in the Jordan. It could rot have been by
chance that the prophet chose this font for the sacrament of

[6S]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

penitence, for it was sandlioned by ancient history, full of in-
strudlion and inspiration. Here, as the Catholic historian of the
Master points out, the children of Israel crossed with Joshua
into the promised land, and here Elijah, the pioneer of proph-
ecy, smote the waters with his mantle. To-day the ford is called
the " Place of Passage," and the western bank is green, and cov-
ered with willows and tamarisks. Whole flocks of wood-pigeons
find here a home, so here are all the signs of the great affair of
regeneration, the pure water, the passage from old things to
new, and the gentle white dove, which is the symbol of the
Holy Ghost.

It was most fitting, like everything else in Jesus' life, that where
sinful men had gathered in contrition and were waitinj for
God's kingdom, the Anointed of God should appear; but when
Jesus not only was a hearer of the new Gospel, but also desired
to have the sinner's baptism, one is not astonished that the Bap-
tist was staggered and shrank back with pious horror. Unto the
Baptist, the Savonarola of his day, came the ignorant people,
sordid and greedy through the struggle for life; the publicans
swollen with the gains of oppression ; the rough soldiers, who
wrought their unchecked will on the helpless; the miserable
women, who were the open ulcer of society; and even the
Pharisees, shaken out of their pride for a space. A great wave
of religious emotion had swept this mixed mass of evil-doers to
the feet of the prophet and the laver of the Jordan. They were
where they ought to be, where they could find salvation. Re-
morse and shame had sped them in anxiety and terror to confess
their sins and seek the Divine mercy. What had brought Him
Who was holy, harmless, and undefiled? Nothing less than the
sacred waters of the Jordan could avail for this mass of rascal-
dom and hypocrisy, but what could any water do for Him or His
whiteness? For the hands, themselves sinful, which plunged
publicans and harlots into the flowing water, to touch the holi-

[66]

THE BAPTISM

ncss of Jesus was an impossible sacrilege, and the dismay of the
Baptist was so manifest that Jesus could only ask him to suffer
His desire.

When Jesus gave His reason to His servant and declared that
His baptism would fulfil "all righteousness," it was in the very
sound a staking utterance, but it is not quite clear on first sight
what the Master intended. It is no explanation to read right-
eousness in a sfridlly legal sense, and to see in the baptism an-
other illustration of the Master's respeftful regard for the laws
of His national religion, since this lustration of penitence was
not an ancient regulation of Judaism, and had no binding force •
It was a voluntary rite and not a universal commandment Still
less IS It to be suggested that Jesus had any moral need for such
a cleansing because He had sinned in thought or deed, for it was
His whiteness against their blackness which moved the Baptist
to his indignant refusal. Nor could the baptism of the Jordan be
a ceremony introducing Jesus to His Messianic office, since the
greater could not be blessed of the lesser, the servant instal his
T ord. It was not indeed possible that Jesus could gain by this
rite of humility, but it is possible that He could give; and as
Jesus submits to the waters of the Jordan in the company of sin- \
ners, we see an a<ft of utter self-surrender and a public accept- 1
ance of His calling. It was a deliberate emptying of Himself and
the first step to the Cross.

What the Baptist saw by faith was a man spotless and separate
amid the sin which blackened the land and now encompassed
Him on every side. What he expedled was that this holiness
should be declared in the sight of all men by separation of life
and aloofness from the sinners. He may have been delivered from
the vain delusion of an imperial throne, but he must have -
ined the holy throne high and lifted up of Isaiah's vision e
had received the conception of a suffering Messiah, but it would
be the Lamb of God offered apart from the people on a sacred

[67]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

altar. A Messiah rearing a throne with His own hands amid the
waste of sin and on the foundation of sinners' hearts; a Messiah
making His ahar of the people's sufferings and Himself laid on
it by the people's hands, was as yet beyond the Baptist, as it has
often been beyond the Church of later ages. What Jesus desired
was to forget His perfed purity and Divine dignity, which were
their own evidence and protedlion, and to plunge into the very
depths of ordinary sinning, sorrowful human life in His pity and
sympathy, that He might lift the burden, which would b*- on
His shoulders, but could be no part of Himself. Accordingto the
excusable idea of the Baptist, his Lord should have gathered
His white garments around Him with fastidious care and stood
alone on the bank, while at His feet the waters were stained
with the sin of poor struggling humanity; but according to the
heart of Jesus He must descend into the midst of the river till
in the end what neither the water of the Jordan nor any other
could do would be accomplished by His lifelong Passion and
His death. This baptism was a sacrament of the Messianic love
— a pledge of utter devotion to His fellow-men, a symbol of
{ identification with humanity.
It might seem at the time'a vain sacrifice, but now one can
see that no aft could more fitly open the mission of Jesus, and
none could be a surer prophecy of its final success. He was not to
take His way through pleasant circumstances and among good
people, with reverence and admiration and honour and applause
waiting on Him. He was to dine at publicans' tables, and live
in their houses; to talk at well sides with disreputable women,
and to have harlots following Him into respcftable houses ; to
be rlassed with illiterate folk and aespised provincials; to be cast
out of the Church as a heretic, and to be counted a blas-
phemer. He was to be mixed up with the dregs of the people,
and it was to be suggested that He was Himself no better than
the worst. The waters of His baptism were ever to be on His

[68]

THE BAPTISM

head, so that the Pharisees standing on their high bank could
condemn Him, and the miserable below would claim Him. He
would be condemned that He might save, and stooping He would
conquer. Between the handful of righteous and the mass of sin-
ners He cast in His lot with the sinner, so He lost the right-
eous, who needed no Saviour, and He found the sinners, who
did. Baptised into shame and suffering that day by John's austere
hands, our Master was also baptised unto power and glory, and
the drops of Jordan water glistening in the sun were the jewels
of an eternal crown.

Jesus' baptism, with its consequences, is a supreme illustration
of the law, that he who would save his fellows must conde-
scend to their estate. Just in so far as any one has preserved
himself and maintained his distances has he lost his advantage
and failed; in so far as one has forgotten himself and cast him-
self into the swift stream of agony, has he been strong and has
saved. This is the initial test of service — searching and severe.
From this painful and repulsive contadt with the vile, the out-
cast, the ignorant, the coarse, every one shrinks in proportion
to the fineness of his nature; but he who makes this last sacrifice
of fellowship with the lost has his reward. This is the way of the
Messiah, and Heaven bends over it with open approval. Jesus
accepted His calling without reserve that day, and when He ^
came up from the river the Spirit of God was resting on Him
like unto a dove, and a voice from the Highest declared that
He Who had stooped so low for mercy's sake was T >d's Be- /
loved Son.

[69]

'ii

Chapter VIII: The Temptation

HEN we read in the Gospels that
after Jesus was baptised of John
He was led into the wilder-
ness to be tempted, the order of
events is not merely temporal,
it is also spiritual. If any one
be moved to dedicate himsel'
'• ithout reserve to the cause of
God and the service of his fel-
low-m;n, it is an aft of im-
mens'i significance, and it must
needs be followed by a retreat. It had not been fitting that as
soon as Jesus had ccme up from the Jordan, with the water still
on His head. He should begin to preach the Kingdom. He would
have been without any plan of work and without possession
of Himself for the Messianic enterprise. Before Jesus presented
Himself to the people or called His first disciples, He must
realise within His consciousness not only that He is the Hope
of the Prophets, but also must determine the appointed lines of
the Messiah's career, as One in Whom is stored unused and un-
known resources. For f"^ rty days — a number of sacred tradition
— Jesus secluded Himself in the wildernesa, that His soul, being
freed from the bondage of the body and the turmoil of life, might
enter into the will of God.

No man can come through a spi'-itual crisis without physical
reaftion, and, according to the intensity of the soul will be the

[71]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

[

Ilf

II'

exhaustion of the body. On such occasions it seems as if the blood
had been drained through a wound, . s if the nerves had been
stretched unto the breaking. Never is the strongest sou] more
depressed, never does it lie more open to attack. And it was at
the close of the forty days that Jesus, Who may have been lightly
tried before in Nazareth, passed through His first great tempta-
tion. As the KingdoHt of God, with its hopes and visions, had
in those days been opened unto Him, and His eyes had seen its
unclouded bright::^, w'th its hosts of Angels, its red'^emed
souls, its vidlories of holiness, its morning song of joy, so now
He must, with His human eyes, behold the kingdom of evil,
hardly suspefted as He lived '.vith Mary in Nazareth, with its
suggestions of evil, its hatred of goodness, its pitiful persecution
of the soul, its hideous shapes of si.i, its black despair. For the
Son of Man must know good and evil, that being thoroughly
prepared He may be the Saviour of His brethren.
It is a reasonable question whether the circumstances of the
temptation were a(5tual or figurative. Did the Evil One appear
in bodily shape to Jesus? was Jesus adtually placed on a pinnacle
of the Temple? were kingdoms of the world shown to Him as
in a magical mirror? Or did Jesus, in relating this experience
to his friends afterwards, clothe spiritual events in physical dress,
to convey by a pi(flure what had happened in His soul? The
essential truth of the narrative and the reality of the incident are
the same either way, and each person will conceive it as best
suits his own mind, but the spiritual interpretation has two ad-
vantages. For one thing, it is more reasonable ; for there is no
other instance of the Evil One appearing in visible shape, and
it were surely less than becoming that Jesus should be at Satan's
disposal, to be whirled from the wilderness to the Temple, from
the Temple to the wilderness. Besides, just so far as one imagines
the Temptation to be a drama without, and not within, the soul,
he separates the trial of the Master from that of His brethren,

[7=]

■ i

I -J

THE TEMPTATION

And he was there in the wilderness forty days tempted by Saun; and
was with the wild beasts.— Mark I. 13.

-1

iini ;rti:Ur' vf! S

''f)! r/ I'M/ rr !iti

If":

'ft*

THE TEMPTATION

and so far robs them of His sympathy and His vidory. What-
ever may have happened in the case of Jesus, during Whose
public hfe there was a special conflict of spiritual powers, holy
and evil, the battle, in our case, is within and unseen. While the
world IS carrying on its work around us. and no one is conscious
of the crisis, our affedions. reason, will, are assailed; and while
the world laughs and goes on its ways, unconscious of the su-
preme tragedy of life, we are inwardly overcome and put to
shame. Unfortunately for is, we do not always understand the
meanmg of the conflift ourselves, and we have not the power
to describe it; but if we had the insight and the imagination
then we also should have our pinnacles of spiritual exaltation
and our glimpses of this present world.

Another question is more vital, and that is the spiritual reality
of Jesus temptation. It is not whether He was perfedly good
-that every one will take for granted, -but whether His per-
tea goodness was of such a kind as to give Him immunity from
the danger of temptation. Was He tempted like one of us in the
sense that the suggestion of the Evil One made a genuine appeal
to Him from the outside.?— that He had the power of yielding
or resisting, and that He conquered with real pain.? Should one
say No— no temptation could affeft Jesus any more than a
lighted match falling on ice-then he has paid a disastrous
honour to the Master, for in one breath he has denied the true
humanity of His nature and the aftual veracity of His life If
Jesus did not sin, not because He would not, but because He
could not, then the difference between His disciples and Him-
self is not superiority of the same nature— a supreme degree of
sainthood— but genuine distindion in nature— the possession
ot a superhuman nature. Jesus is not then bone of our bone and
flesh of our flesh, as we had fondly imagined, but a Being of
another order ; and while in the daily duel betw^»n evil and one
ot us the rapier of Satan can pierce our heart and spill our life-

[73]

lit

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

blood, in Jesus it passed harmlessly through the shadowy form
of a ghost. It will also follow that these accounts of conflids
taken from His own lips, so vivid, so intense, so encouraging,
are, after all, only descriptions of a sham fight, where the car-
tridges were blank, and the issues were arranged beforehand.
If, however, we come to the life of Jesus without any precon-
ceived ideas, or any dodtrines to safeguard, and if we read the
record in its natural and reasonable sense, then the Temptation
throbs and glows with intense reality. Jesus overcame not be-
cause He was invulnerable, but because He was strong; and,
therefore, h.;re is no man or woman anywhere, sorely beset
in the spiritual warfare, who has not in Him a Friend and
Saviour.

Three times was Jesus attacked in this classical battle — each
occasion through a different avenue — and the first approach was
laid through the body. It does not fojlow that every sensible
temptation must be sensual, and it goes without saying that the
spiritual and beautiful nature of Jesus rendered Him impervious
to certain temptation^ which would have appealed to other
young men of Nazareth. If His senses were ever to betray Him,
the Master must be deceived by a show of innocence and simply
fall into an adlion with a tang of wrong in it so subtle as to seem
like goodness. Forty days had this man, in the fulness of His
strength, denied Himself ordinary food, and lived in a state of
high spiritual tension, and now His body — the body not of an
ascetic but of a strong workman — asserted itself, and He was
an hungered. No appetite is more imperious than hunger, for
from its stimulus has sprung the first energy of the race. None
is more innocent, since to deny its satisfaction, in ordinary cir-
cumstances, were suicide. Round Jesus, as He came oui from
His spiritual trance and became conscious of physical things, lay
the white stones of the desert, mocking Him by their colour and
shape with the suggestion of the homely bread His mother

[74]

'lFr:?T3&.-''-"i

-S^'Mijn.'

THE TEMPTATION

baked in Nazareth, and which He ate with honest zest at the
close of a hard day's work. If indeed He were endowed with
the power of God, so that whatsoever He pleased He could do
and whatsoever He desired He could have, why should He noJ
change the unprofitable stones into loaves of bread, as the Bap-
tist declared God could make them into sons of Abraham, and
eat and go on to His work in the strength thereof? It was the
most reasonable and practical of temptations. The days were
near at hand when Jesus would use His Divine power to feed
a hungry multitude, to heal the loathsome disease of leprosy to
raiseaman three days dead. Why not to revive His own strength?
Because m this case He would have used His power to relieve
Himself from one of the conditions of human life, and to secure
His own ease, and because, had He made this concession to Him-
self, why should He not afterwards have employed the same
power to clothe Himself in purple and fine linen? to escape the
weariness of a poor man's travel? to shield Himself from the
cruelties of His enemies? After all, as Jesus answered, the chief
good of life is not meat — to satisfy oneself, but the words which
come from the mouth of God — to fulfill spiritual ends; not to
live for the senses, but for the soul. When it was insinuated into
Jesus' mind that He might turn .t ■ es into bread for His own
service, it was a veiled sedudion ot selfishness ; and when the
Master spurned it. He gave a pledge of sacrifice which antici-
pated the Cross and he day when the priests, who gave the
stones unto the people and seized the breau for themselves,
should mock Him, saying, "He saved others: Himself He can-
not save."

Jesus' next temptation shifted the field from the body to the
soul, and had a fair show of religion, as the last had of reason
Is not the very heart of religion faith in God, a faith so un-
reserved and unquestioning that it will leave the person abso-
lutely in the hands of God? Ought not such faith to vindicate

[75]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

itself sometimes, and put God to the test by some daring adl of
confidence? Suppose that Jesus should cast Himself from the
highest point of the Father's House in face of all the people,
and allow God to bear Him up on angels' wings, — would not
this be a fitting evidence of His faith on the threshold of the
Master's public career ? Would it not afford Him a convincing
assuraice of His Father's care as He entered on His perilous
way? Would it not commend His Messiahship to the nation
with an unanswerable sign ? Apparently it was an appeal to Jesus'
filial spirit; really it was an invitation *.o spiritual pride and un-
holy presumption upon the favour of God — the very sin which
by its arrogance and self-complacency had created PYuii :saism
and devastated the religious life of Israel. If many fall through
sins of the senses, as many fall through sins of the spirit, and dar-
ing irreverence in the shape of filial freedom is surely the most
deceptive of all spiritual sins. What was represented as a loyal
acceptance of one of the most gracious of the Divine promises
Jesus declared to be sheer blasphemy, and a straining of the
Divine patience unto the breaking. With this new rebuff to
the Evil One, Jesus added to His abnegation a humility of faith
which was never to fail till, from the tragic height of the Cross,
where God's will had placed Him, into the depths of the grave,
whither He was willing to go. He committed His soul to His
Father, and His Father did not put Him to confusion.
Once more at this time Satan tried the Master, and now it is
neither through His body, nor His soul, but through His work.
From a high mountain the Tempter shows unto this young Man
all the kingdomsof the world, of which in theseclusion of Naza-
reth Jesus may have heard, and their glory, which He could not
have imagined. This is the world — not that world of sin, and
shame, and sorrow, and pain, in its immense pathos, which God
loved and Jesus was to save; but that world of luxury, and pag-
eantry, and cruelty, and unbelief, in its proud insolence, which

[76]

y»-

THE TEMPTATION

would flout God and crucify Jesus. With the same outlook the
Master saw His task and His hindrance, and in this meeting
was begotten the Temptation. How altogether noble was the
task ! Was the hindrance inevitable ? If Jesus would only do one
a<a of homage to the prince of this world, then he would
lay all those kingdoms at Jesus' feet. Who then might do His
will without sufl^ering or opposition. One imagines that Jesus
may have been tempted again and again after this fashion, in
His life, to come to terms with the world, and the more quickly
accomplish His work. Suppose that by courteous concession
the world, in its priests and Pharisees and rulers, could be dis-
armed and conciliated, would it be wrong, and would it not be
worth the making .? What enmity and bloodshed, what mar-
tyrdoms and controversies, what sins against light and goodness,
would be averted ! How swiftly and how smoothly the Kingdom
of God might come ! Had Jesus only been more careful about
the Sabbath rules, had He only been silent on certain occasions,
had He only paid some heed to prejudices, had He kept at a
distance from sinners! A few compromises, a handful of incense
on the altar of the world, and neither He nor any of His dis-
ciples need have sufl^ered. His Church has not turned a deaf
ear to this insidious advice, or been disinclined to take an evil
road to a good end. She has gratefully received tainted gold,
and therewith established missions; she has made alliances
with kings, and trafficked with her own freedom; she has
condescended to cunning and violence to advance her sphere
of influence. These things have the servants done, but not the
Master. Where the choice was to hold the world from His
Father on condition of the Cross, or to receive a show of power
from Satan on condition of an aft of homage, Jesus made a
swift, final decision. And Satan, thrice defeated, departed for
a season.

\77\

mmmam

^mmrnamm^

Chapter IX : A Reasonable Method

[ETWEEN the work of man and
the work of God one differ-
ence can never be mistaken :
man achieves his end with
effort and noise, God does His
will with ease and quietness.
When we determine to build
a house for public use, there is a
mighty commotion of speech
and deed. With planning and
discussion, with strain of arm
and sweat of brow, with sound of axe and hammer, is the build-
ing completed and opened. It may give distinction to a squalid
street, or it may disfigure a landscape; it may be consecrated by
the Evangel of Jesus, or be dishonoured by the talk of fools. One
day God bethinks Himself of some spot in His beautiful uni-
verse which is needing shadow and prote<aion, and He says, "Let

there be a tree." A bird of the air carries a seed and drops it

no one seeing— into the soft, moist earth; the sun shines, and

the winds blow, and the showers fall — no one thinking and

a shoot of grass appears; the seasons follow one another, and the
years come and go — no one considering — till the tiny thing
has grown into a sturdy sapling; generations pass and are
gathered to their fathers, and, behold, one day — no one cele-
brating—a cedar of Lebanon. Birds will build their nests
among its branches, and sing there the live-long day; travellers

[79]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

weary with their journey will rest beneath its roof, and go on
their way rejoicing; and from far distances the tree stands
out against the sky a symbol of vitality and of mercy. Perfe^
and eternal work is done in secret and cometh without observa-
tion, and it was after this fashion Jesus established the great so-
ciety which is called the Kingdom of God.
, When Jesus had been baptised and had been tempted. He
returned to the place where a multitude gathered to the Baptist
and were waiting for the revelation of the Messiah. Perhaps we
do no injustice to the Prophet in supposing that he expedled
some visible display or some conspicuous ad on the part of the
Master. It seemed fitting that Jesus should declare Himself on a
large scale, and His servants, for the most part, would have con-
sidered it bare justice to the new enterprise. As it was, the Master
moved among John's hearers unrecognised and unobtrusive, so
that to the eye He did not suggest the Messiah about to inaugu-
rate the final religion, but rather a private person in search of
a friend. And this was what Jesus is always to be doing, as He
moves among men in the ways of life and modestly joins Him-
self to group after group. Between certain souls there is a latent
affinity — sometimes arising from their likeness, the attradWon
of the good for the good; sometimes from their unlikeness, the
longing of the sinner for the saini. Let the two, who are made
the one for the other, meet in the largest company, and they
will pass by others and come together by an unerring instinct.
Secret signs pass between them in an accent of the voice, an
expression of the countenance, a word from the lips, even an atti-
tude. It only requires that attention be called, and the recog-
nition is complete. It was only the question of a day or two, and
Jesus, threading His way through this heterogeneous gathering
of Pharisees, publicans, priests, harlots, scribe Idiers, towns-
men, peasants, had found His first friends.
Among the ill-assorted crowd, which had been colledled partly by

[80]

U -

A REASONABLE METHOD

a fashionable excitement, partly by genuine i eligious feeling, was
a young fisherman from the Lake of Galilee, to whom had been
given the supreme advantage of a mother of the same stock as
Mary —for indeed Salome was the Virgin's sister, and John was
therefore Jesus' near kinsman. This mother was of the nobler
Jewish type, and her soul was inspired by the devout imagina-
tion of the Prophets, so that she had created a spiritual horizon
before the minds of her sons, and taught them that the chief
good in life is not high places in this world, but in the Kingdom
of th- Messiah. When a man has been so trained, his ears arc
open to the faintest .sound of the spiritual world; and at the
rumour of the Baptist this Galilean went to hear him. Salome
handed her son over to John, and he prepared him for Jesus
Already this fine nature was longing for the Master and ready to
bid Him welcome. Jesus in Nazareth. John in Bethsaida. they
had nearer ties than age. and blood, and common station • they
were one in soul. It required but the accident of a meeting, and
the chief service of the Baptist rendered to Salome's son was the
last. " Behold." the Prophet said to some of his disciples as Jesus
passed. " there is He whose Divine purity and sacrifice will save
a world." and the young Galilean left the Prophet and followed
Jesus for ever.

"Master, where dwcllest Thou.?" were the first words John
said to Jesus, and they were to be the endless question of his
soul; and the answer to him and his friend Andrew was never
to end. "Come and see." The two— His first-fruits— went with
Jesus to His lodging, and there they spent the night. Upon them
the sudden darkness of the East fell with gentle, concealing cur-
tain, and no one knows what passed between the Master and
them, for Andrew was not given to writing, and John was silent
on his spiritual secrets; but next morning Jesus had two dis-
ciples, and the Kingdom had begun) During the day Andrew
found his brother Simon, and we may assume that John had won

[8i]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

his brother James, which doubled the number of the company.
On the day following, as they make their first journey together,
the disciples see a neighbour of Bcthsaida, the town of Peter,
and a man of like spirit. They describe him to Jesus, and the
Master, \yho can read every soul, and knows how to deal with
each, understands Philip. " Follow Me," He says, with a cer-
tain straightforward authority, which a plain, blunt man could
appreciate, and Jesus has five disciples. As they go on their way
they come to Tana, a» d Philip now recoUedts that he also has
a friend who was wait ng for the Messiah. So he brings Na-
thanael, with quick insistent words, to the Master, Who satisfies
him also, and adds the sixth to His disciples.
It was on lines of such simplicity that the Master began and con-
tinued His enterprise; and it must be wise and salutary to make
a comparison between the method of Jesus and the method of
His disciples in modern times. Never before in the history of
our religion have Christian people been so anxious to send the
Gospel to the ends of the earth ; so determined that the slave and
the oppressed should go free; sosensitivetothe wrongs of women
and children ; so pitiful to the poor and needy; so charitable to all
fellow-Christians, however wide be the difference m creed and
worship. No one can appeal in vain to the mercy and compassion
of Christianity; no one need hope to succeed who fans the embers
of religious hatred. Never has the spirit of the Master been more
richly shed abroad in the hearts of His disciples. On the other
hand, never was the Christian Church so tempted by wild and
impossible schemes ; so open to all kinds of delirious talk ; so trust-
ful to unknown and irresponsible adventurers; so considerate to
faddists and amiable eccentrics; so impatient of common sense
and moderate counsels. Never was our religion so zealous or so
impulsive; never so devoted or so excited; never so ready to hear
or so careless whether the speaker be a prophet or a charlatan.
Never has there been more of Jesus' spirit, or less of Jesus' method.

[82]

THE CALLING OF FOUR DISCIPLF.S

And straightway he called them; and they left their father Zebedee

in the ship with the hired servants, and went after him.— Mark L
19-20.

l»

-ill U J(i

' I' ' ,)''i [ \/ > lifi

A REASONABLE METHOD

When one turns from the religious world of to-day, with its
platforms, committees, papers, meetings, where every one is
speakin£j at the pitch of his voice, and no one seems to be say-
ir I .\r.y hi.ig particular, and joins the Master as He moves to
a 'd fro establish;: g the Kingdom of God in individual lives,
i- II \:o when on- escapes from a country fair, with its drums and
sL v ■, ts o uidy wares and deafening noise, and finds himself in a
country lane where the wild roses brush him from the hedge,
and thebirdssing overhead. Foras He found the first six disciples
He found all, with the same shrinking from sensationalism, by
the same personal dealing. If great multitudes followed Him, He
healed them all in the prodigality of His mercy ; then He charged
that they should not make it known in His horror of notoriety.
Nor wa such a case to be explained by local circumstances —
it was His principle. Whether He raised a young girl to life, or
opened the eyes of the blind man, or loosed the tongue of the
dumb, or healed ten lepers, or was transfigured before His dis-
ciples, or was revealed to Peter as the Christ, His one command-
ment was that it should not be made known. People did spread
His miracles abroad — it was against His will; they followed
Him in crowds — He hid Himself. We are astonished by His
condudl, and commentators are at their wits' end for an explana-
tion. It seems natural to us that any one who had made so great
an impression would advertise himself in every possible way,
natural to estimate a successful ministry by the crowds which
attend, and the food for public talk. We have come to imagine
an efFeftual and useful servant of the Kingdom as one who does
strive and cry, and who uses all kinds of means to make his voice
heard everywhere.

This may be very arresting, but it may not be irrelevant to point
out that it was not the method of Jesus, since the chief feature
of His public work was spiritual modesty and refinement. No
one ever proposed to do so great a work; no one ever had so

[83]

i u

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

ingenuous a plan. No reformer has ever appeared so influential
as Jesus, none made so little noise. No evangelist can be men-
tioned beside Jesus; none has been so calm. Follow Jesus in the
little synagogues of Galilee or the Temple of Jerusalem, on
the mountain side or the lake shore, into private houses or judg-
ment-halls, and His manner is the same. If there be two ex-
ceptions, they only prove the rule — where He cleanses the
Temple with a certain violence, and where He pours forth His
invedlive on the Pharisees; and then we are amazed. This
hot indignation and dramatic anger were unlike Jesus, and prove
the intolerable abuses of contemporary religion. His was not the
manner of this bustling and feverish world : it was the grand
manner of the Kingdom of God, beautiful in its simplicity. Jesus
did His unique work, from His interview with John to His
speech with the penitent thief, in a fashion which is beyond
the most fastidious criticism. He never posed for effedt, never
raised His voice to secure attention, never condescended to vul-
garity, never allowed Himself to slip into extravagance, never
treated His hearers with spiritual insolence. Our Master did not
set Himself ^o attraft mobs; He tried to come into contadt with
individual souls; He was uneasy with a following, gaping at
miracles and waiting for a dole of bread; He was at home with
a few disciples concerned about spiritual things. His idea was
that (almost) every man could be reached by reason, whether
he be Pharisee or publican, although, of course, in the end he
might not obey. Jesus did not therefore scold, or terrify, or per-
plex men, nor was He given either to empty appeals which have
no real meaning, or to playing on the emotions by pathetic
images. He rather plied His hearers with such clear, sweet,
persuasive reasoning concerning the love of God, the misery of
sinning, the greatness of the soul, the excellence of the King-
dom of God, that His voice was like the lyre of Orpheus, which
made Tantalus forget his thirst; and His disciples were made

[84]

il ' i

A REASONABLE METHOD

willing in the day of His power because all that was noblest
within them consented and gave joyful welcome to His appeal.
It is at this point in an estimate of the method of Jesus that one
ought to distinguish between two words which were constantly
confounded by Mr. Isaac Taylor and other v liters at the be-
ginning of the century, and which are not kept very clearly
apart unto this day. One is Enthusiasm, and the other is Fanati-
cism. It is not uncommon to hear some self-confident and aggres-
sive individual saying: ' They call me a fanatic; well, I am not
ashamed of the name: it were good for the world were there ten
times more fanaticism"; while he really ought to be very much
troubled to be such a man, and ought to know that it would
be a fearful disaster if the world were given over to this mad
and gloomy spirit. What he very likely means is that he has
been charged with enthusiasm, and accepts the charge, as he
very well may, as a compliment. Enthusiasm is a temper of
mind altogether holy and beautiful, and Jesus was the Chief of
all enthusiasts. Fanaticism is a question of method, and from this
excess Jesus was altogether and always free. When St. Francis
'•ent to preach the Gospel to the soldiers, and offered to go
ugh fire if it would convert the Saracen to Christ ; or when
_er, stretching out his hands to tb-; farthest East, cried,
" More suflferings, more sufferings. Lord, ' one has very beautiful
instances of enthusiasm. When Simon Stylites stood upon a pillar
for no end but vainglory, and the monks of Alexandria tore
Hypatia to pieces for the glory of God, you have conspicuous
illustrations of fanaticism. An enthusiast is always worthy of
respedt, from Moses, who threw in his lot with the children of
Israel, to Gordon, who gave his life for Africa. No one indeed
has ever done work of the first order in whose breast this Divine
spark did not burn. Fanaticism is sometimes weak and silly,
sometimes fierce and intolerant, it is always injurious and to
be condemned. Fanaticism is the degeneration of enthusiasm,

[85]

^'^1

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

it. bastard shape; it is enthusiasm without intelligence or ele-
vat.on As often as one is inclin .d to confound the two, let him

work of God and the service of man ? Was there ever any life
so cleansed from foolishness and bitterness? Did ever fire burn
with so unquenchable and so pure a flame ?
One can imagine Jesus_as is written in the Gospels ^takine
H- Va r '" "' """' ^"' '''^^'"^ '^-' - stretching ::!

sW .r "Tr""°^^"^-"°^'^'"g country folk and
aying, "Come unto Me. all ye that labour and are heavy laden

lican' T '"f T'"' " ^P"'''"g '^° g'-^-°-'y - ^ pub-'
broken r" /' '' '""-^ """' P"""" °^>^- ^^^^ f^lHike
Pe erLdhT- r^T' "'"^^ o-ppeanng alone to Simon
Pete and hearing his confession. Those are acts entirely becom-
ing Jesus, and the very outcome of His ber atiful soul. One can-
not imagine the Master making a young child come forward
at a public meeting and tell when it was converted, or asking
His disciples m an audience to stand up while the others sat if
their places; or breaking in upon the holiest of all within a
human soul with some rude question, or insisting on one of the
heart-broken penitents who crowded to His side relating his ex-
periences in the far country. Such things are not written in the
Gospels: if we read them in a newly-discovered Gospel, we
should know that Gospel to be apocryphal; and if an angel from
heaven to'; them, we should not believe him. for we know that
they were impossible for Tesus. They are the religious gaucheries
of men whose sPTuual sense is dull, and whose mental fibre i

pedl for the soul to make such mistakes. It is almost a profanity
to mention such methods in the same breath with the name of
Jesus, but that only shows as by a foil how perfed were all His
ways and how divme was His method.

This method of Jesus rests on two principles He was ever preach-

[86]

A REASONABLE METHOD

ing or exemplifying ; and the first was the paramount value of
charadter. While the Pharisees had taught the pciple that reli-
gion consisted in repeating certain shibboleths and performing
certain rites, and that he who was orthodox in dodrine and cer-^-
mony was a good man, Jesus in.-'ited that religion stood in the
condition of the soul, and that he whose s-^.ul was holy alone was
good. It were better to stamp a spiritual pattern on one soul
than to persuade a thousand men to say, "Lord, Lord." The
Kingdom of God was within — an atmosphere of humility,
sacrifice, purity, love, a spirit of heavenly thoughts and unselfish
adlions. It came therefore slowly, surely, quietly, as each man
was inwardly changed into the Divine likeness. And Jesus be-
lieved that the best means of accomplishing this change was the
influence of a person. What all the dodrines and all the rules
in the world cannot do, may be attained efFedtually and uncon-
sciously by a friendship. In the company of a frjend who lives
with God and brings God near to the soul, one is ashamed of
himself, and aspires after better things. He slips his past, and puts
on a new shape; he catches his friend's spiritual accent and atti-
tude; he begins to think with him, and ends by adting like him.
Jesus proposes to save His disciples by giving u new charadter to
the soul, and this He would convey by uniting His disciples and
Himself in a lasting and spiritual private friendship.
Perhaps the simplicity of Jesus' method may at first cause dis-
appointment, and seem to have a poor chance of success. How
long it will take the Messiah to fulfil the visions of the Prophets
and His own commissi'^n by making friends with a man here
and there, even although He makes the man like Himself! But
is there no other test of success than numbers? and are we sure
that noise and noisy methods have had the larger harvests? The
most efFcdtive apostle who ever preached in England was John
Wesley, and he was the sanest and quietest of men. No preacher
of this century has given such an impetus to Christian thought

[87]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

as Robertson of Brighton, and Robertson had an almost morbid
dislike of garish popularity. No evangelist of our time did so
much to change the lives of young men as Henry Drummond,
and none could be farther removed from rant and coarseness.
Fanaticism is a confession of weakness; he who has the truth
does not need to shout; he who does God's work can dispense
with sensationalism.

Every servant in God's cause can make his choice: he can work
either by faith or sight; and if he works by faith, he will have
his trials. It is hard to see others succeed by means his conscience
does not allow him to use; to be counted an incapable and a
failure; to work in narrow circumstances and to reap slender
harvests. Yet this faithful servant has his own encouragements,
and they are not to be despised. If he has lost the present, his
is the future ; and if only one voice approves, that is the voice
of the Master.

f' If

[if

[88]

Chapter X: A Reasonable Life

HEN any one has undertaken a
Iiigh office, no slight interest
attaches to his first public ac-
tion, and it has often revealed
the spirit of his whole future
life. As Moses stands before
Pharaoh, and calls the king to
repentance and justice, one sees
the lawgiver of Israel who shall
lay the Ten Words on the con-
science of his people. It was no
accident that Elijah should make his first appearance at Ahab's
court with the prophecy of a long drought, for his role was judg-
ment, and his very face an omen of trouble to a weak and wicked
king. No sooner had St. Paul been converted and baptised than
he showed himself in the synagogues, where he had been so dis-
tinguished by his rabbinical learning, and where now he was to
use his unmatched dialectic for the preaching and defence of Jesus.
And when John Baptist arrested some travellers one day with
his commandment of repentance, and left them trembling,
he struck that note which was to sound with insistent reit.;ra-
tion till its wholesome harshness was lost in the sound of Jesus'
Evangel. As soon as Jesus had collected His six friends, the be-
ginning of the world-wide society. He could not be long hid, for
now He had claimed to be a Master, and must take a Master's
place before the people. And Jesus made His entrance into life

[89]

I K

:< f'

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

as the Christ not in the Temple, nor in a synagogi ;, nor at a
funeral, nor in a sick room, but at a marriage ♦last.
It seems that the mother of Jesus and His family had removed
from Nazareth to Cana about the time that He left His home
and went to be baptised of John, and that a marriage was to
take place in the circle. As the Virgin carried herself on the
occasion with the anxiety and authority of a near relative, either
the bride or bridegroom must have been of her family. The
choice will therefore lie between the son or the daughter of one
of Jesus' elder brethren ; and since we read that He was formally
bidden to the marriage, and the marriage feast was held in the
bridegroom's house, we may safely conclude that the bridegroom
was the stranger, and the bride of His family. Between the bride
and Jesus there would have been a close and pleasant tie in Naza-
reth since her infancy. It was not in His manhood and public
life that the Master first learned to love children, and became
their friend. Between the children of Nazareth and the gentle
Carpenter there must have been much pleasant traffic, as they
loitered by His door and watched Him at work, yet never so
busy but He could fling ihem some gracious word, or wandered
with Him on the hillside at eventide, where He would show
unto His young playmates the wonderful beauty of the flowers
and of all His Father's works. Among the children this little
maid would be especially dear, as being of His own people, and
between her and Jesus there would spring up an intimacy, so
that to Him she would turn in the little joys and sorrows of her
life; and when her chief joy came, this bride would most of
all desire that Jesus, who seemed to her the very perfeftion of
holiness and wisdom, should be at her wedding and give His
blessing.

Before that day arrived the change had come in Jesus' life, and
He had gone out from Nazareth and been baptised into His
Messianic work. Behind Him lay for ever the little home,

[90]

CANA (KEFR-KENNA) FROM THE ROAD TO
NAZARETH

^' k

il;

yy (i/.(>>i !ijr r/.('>i.i t///.u .i^.i/i /,//'>

III

tJBi::- '2 -Ty a w v Tgy «

A REASONABLE LIFE

tnd the «imp)e toil of the workshop, and the pleasant leisure
hours, and the fellowship of the family circle. Before Him now
were lonely nights of vigil, and repeated temptations of the fvil
One, and days of exhausting spiritual labour, and conriidts of
hot debate, and woeful persecutions. Already He had tasted the
Messianic life in the Jordan and the wilderness. His people knew
that He had gone to be a Teacher; He only knew what that
meant. It was not to be expeded that at the beginning of His
enterprise Jesus should turn aside from great affairs to attend a
village wedding ; it was hardly fitting that the Messiah should in-
troduce Himself and His disciples to the people on so simple and
joyous an occasion. No one guiding himself by conventional
rules, no ordinary man, had dared. It was altogether characteris-
tic ot the Master to leave the Jordan and arrange this journey so
as to be present at His friend's wedding, and altogether char-
acteristic of His mission that this should be its revelation. When
the Messiah comes forth from the shadow it is at a marriage
feast.

It is likely that He had been despaired of; it is certain that His
band of disciples could not have been anticipated— who were
now invited on very short notice —and it v/as too late now to
reinforce the feast. There was enough of bread, but the wine
for that humble home was harder to obtain, and it threatened
to fail ; and if it should seem to any one that this would matter
little to temperate folk, he has missed the inwardness of the in-
cident. Two families would be put to shame on a high day in
their life because they had bidden their guests and had failed
in hospitality, the bride's almost as much as the bridegroom's.
The Virgin, with her motherly sympathy and quick understand-
ing of narrow circumstances, takes in the situation, and turns to
her Son. He had been her resort in every little strait of those
years, and He had never failed to bring her help. She could
hardly have imagined what He would do, but she had learned

[9«]

^"tSDBR-. -laHiAsf^^ftiE-,

.1!

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

to believe that any matter might be left with Him. He could
not be expedled to know that the wine was coming to an end,
and that His young kinswoman would be put to confusion. Call-
ing Him aside. His mother told Him so that none but John
heard, "They have no wine."

His answer was kindly and respedlful, however it may sound in
our ears, which have lost the beautiful accent in "woman";
but it marked a certain change in the relation between Jesus
and His mother. Hitherto He had been a private person, with
no obligations save to her — ready to hear her advice, willing
to give way to her, concerned only that she should have com-
fort, satisfied if she were satisfied. Now He was the Anointed
of God, with the charge of a high work laid on Him, for which
He must make the last sacrifices, to which He must give all His
time, in which He could take no direftions save from God.
Unto the last hour of His life would the Master love and cherish
His mother; but with the great affair of His calling she must
not meddle. Unto her had come that hour of mixed pain and
pride to a mother, when her son goes out on his own course,
and when even she must be second to his life work. She must
now stand aside and watch Him in silence, while He did what
she did not understand, and went beyond the care she would
have bestowed upon Him. Her faith was sometimes to fail in
the days to come, but at Cana she was calm and confident. Mary
turned unto the servants, "Whatsoever He saith unto ycu do
it."

Jesus was soon to do greater wonders in raising the dead ; but
when He turned the water into wine, we have an altogether
delightful opening to the public life of Jesus. It was an adl pcr-
fedlly becoming the circumstances, because it was so thoughtful,
so genial, so courteous, so overflowing, conceived to crown this
marriage with dignity and joy. He was to be in every situation
that which was fitting, so that from Cana to Calvary one is lost

[92]

A REASONABLE LIFE

in admiration at the sweet reasonableness of the Master's life. If
Jesus once used a term of bitter contempt, and called a man
" that fox," it was Herod Antipas, the most contemptible crea-
ture in the Gospels. Once He broke out into invedtive so scath-
ing that we read it with trembling unto this day ; it was against
the opprobrium of religion in all ages — the Pharisees who pro-
fessed instead of doing, and proselytised instead of saving. Once
Jesus turned on a faithful friend, and called him a devil : it was
when Simon Peter advised Jesus to play the coward and avoid
the Cross. Once He rebuked His beloved John: it was when
the hot-tempered disciple would have called down fire upon a
Samaritan village for discourtesy. Once he grew suddenly angry :
it was when meddlesome disciples would have kept little chil-
dren at a distance. If coarse-mi ndcd men tried to put a guilty
woman to shame in His presence. He would not lift His eyes
till they had departed. If a fallen woman washed His feet with
her tears. He detected her penitence, and sent her into peace.
If He dined at a Pharisee's house, He gently ridiculed the
scramble for seats; if He went into a publican's, it was to set at
Ml crty the soul of His host. When the Galileans wished to make
riim a king. He hid Himself; when the Judeans wanted to cru-
cify Him, He yielded Himself. When an honest scribe asked a
plain question. He satisfied him; when certain tried to trick
Him about Cassar's penny. He put a fool's cap on them. Take
Jesus where you will He is ever beyond criticism. He never con-
fuses either men or circumstances, never spares a kn?'-: or a
hypocrite, never hurts a penitent or a good man. Whetner He i
denounces or approves, agrees or refuses, your reason says, " Well |
done." Jesus was ever "behoveful," as Hooker has it, or as the '
people themselves once said, having an unconscious sense of
something wonderfully becoming, " He doeth all things well."
The reasonableness of the Master's life appears when one marks
how He avoided the falsehood of extremes. Human life has been

[93]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

too often deformed because it has been distrafted between two
one-sided ideals. The one cares for the body to the depreciation
of the soul, the other exalts the soul to the contempt of the
body. The one rejoices without reserve in this fair world, the
other ignores it beside the glory of the world to come. The one
counts knowledge the chief good, the other, faith. The one
makes culture the end of life, the other, righteousness. The
nation which embodied the former ideal was the Greek, the
nation which embodied the latter was the Jew. The nearest in-
dividual type of the former was a Pagan man of letters, the best
representative of the latter was John Baptist. To-day we see one
kind of life in a cultivated man of the world, with his literary
tastes, his love of art, his genial charity, his sympathy with every-
thing human, his general sweetness; we see the opposite tendency
in, let us say, a soldier of the Salvation Army (whose devotion the
writer regards with sincere respeft), or a Plymouth Brother, or
some other of our modern Montanists, with his suspicion of cul-
ture, his indifference to the beauty of the world, his avoidance
of human society, his superiority over his fellow-Christians, his
sad austerity, his admirable religious intensity. Were one to nime
a writer of the past, instindt with that paganism which is still in
our grain beneath a veneer of Christian civilisation, and which
comes at times to the surface of our thinking and writing, I
should say Horace (Virgil was a semi-Christian saint) ; and for
another saturated with that unrelenting asceticism which blends
with Catholicism and Protestantism alike, and is ever rising up
in revolt against our paganism, I should give the author of the
Imitation of Christ. Upon many study tables Horace and A Kem-
pis lie side by side, each expressing one side of our complex
human nature.

It ought at once to be granted that asceticism has its place and
function, and that the Baptist was as much justified as Jesus.
There are days when the world becomes so swollen and cor-

[94]

A REASONABLE LIFE

rupt, so insolent and dominant, that the prophets of God are
bound to put on sackcloth and deny themselves things lawful,
and go into the lonely wilderness and lift up their voice in un-
compromising and insistent protest. There are also special forms
of moral and religious service to which a few are distindlly called,
and for which they must make sacrifices of meat and drink,
home and family ties. As there have been ascetics of science, of
letters, and of arms, so there are ascetics of religion, to whom
all honour is to be paid, on whom the blessing of God has most
evidently rested. As a general rule of life, however, asceticism
has not been justified either by its pradical results or by the char-
after of its subjects. The asc^tical strain which came in after
Jesus, and without His author' j or example, has wrought more
mischief to our religion than all the forces of the world. It has
introduced a barbaric element into theology, seen in the bleed-
ing Christs of the crucifixes and the gloomy conceptions of God
expressed in certain creeds; it has lowered the purity of the
family to a second order, and placed a nun above a mother ; it
has refused to recognise the hand of God beyond a certain
sphere, and has again and again divorced culture and religion;
it has darkened many lives and embittered the sweetness of life.
It has been the nightmare of religion.

Of course if there are only the two ways of it — the way of the
Sadducees and the way of the Baptist — and one had to choose
either to be a pagan or an ascetic, then any serious person would
take asceticism without hesitation. If harmonious and all-round
perfedlion be impossible for human nature, and a man must
be maimed somewhere, let us have perfedtion on those highest
reaches where the soul has communion with God, and let other
sides of our nature wither and perish. Better be a monk writhing
on his cell floor than a pagan crowned with roses; but one does
not want to be a monk, and both extremes are unreasonable.
When a certain type of modern resolves the sense of sin into

[95]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

dyspepsia, he offen^s against reason because he has denied the
spiritual in man. When a saint departs without bidding his
mother farewell, and walks a day's journey beside the lovely
Lake of Geneva without seeing it, he also offends against reason,
for he has denied the human in man. Paganism is a headless
figure, asceticism one without hands or feet; and if we cannot
have the whole, let us have the head. If it be needful, then let
a man fling Horace into the fire, with Homer and Virgil, and
keep A Kempis; but if he has chosen the better portion,' still
it remains that he has missed perfedion.
One of the moderns, whose delicate lambent satire played very
profitably round the limitations of our religious thought, has
asked how Virgil and Shakespeare would have lived in the May-
flower with the Puritans, and leaves it to be inferred not over
well. Perhaps not; but that does not mean that either party was
perfed: it only means that the Humanists had something which
the ascetics lacked, and that the ascetics were strong where the
Humanists were weak. We dare not belittle Puritanism: we
must love Humanism, and we cling to the belief that they are
not enemies. Would not the perfedt life be one wherein that
sympathy with every human interest, which is the charm of
Shakespeare, is combined with that passion for God which
burned in the hearts of the Hebrew prophets? This would be
life not divided and crippled, but harmonious and complete; life
without fear or bondage, life rich and fruitful. This would be
life according to the very ideal of reason ; it has never been seen
but once, and that was in the Gospels. You turn from the classics,
charmed but dissatisfied; something is wanting — spirituality;
you turn from the Puritans, stimulated but dissatisfied; some-
thing is wanting— humanity. You turn to Jesus, to find earth
and heaven meeting in His life.

Jesus came from the awful solitude of the wilderness and the
temptation of the Evil One. He threw Himself into the joy of

[96]

A REASONABLE LIFE

a marriage feast, and would delight to speak of Himself after-
wards as a Bridegroom. He spent nights in prayer on the moun-
tain side, and by day would enter into the games of the children.
Every day He denied Himself, being poor and homeless, and He
feasted also with publicans and sinners. His meat and His drink
were to found the kingdom of God, and unto that end He died
upon the Cross, but He was not indifferent to the flowers of the
field or the glory of the sky, or the springing of the seed, or
the birds of the air. Jesus was chiefly intent on the salvation
of the soul with its vast possibilities and opportunities, but He
entered kindly into the labours, joys, humour, sorrows of ordi-
nary human life. Nothing Divine was foreign to Him, nor any-
thing human. Jesus stands aside in His gravity from a world
that was crying, " What shall we eat and what shall we drink,
and wherewithal shall we be clothed?" He also stands in His
sympathy apart from the Baptist with His rdment of camel's
hair and leathern girdle. He only has never come short and never
exceeded. He only has compassed the length and breadth and
depth and height of life. Who

"Saw life steadily and saw it whole,"

and in His presence and at His word the water of life, in all its
vessels of love and labour, culture and religion, has turned into
wine.

[97]

Chapter XI: TheVerdid of Jerusalem

URING His public life Jesus
visited many distridls within
His fixed boundary of the
Holy Land, from the banks
of the Jordan, where He made
His first disciples among pious
Jews, to the coasts of Tyre and
Sidon, where He was amazed
at the faith of a Canaanite
woman; from Sychar, where
He gave a Samaritan to drink
of the water of life, to C^sarea Philippi, where St. Peter made
his classical confession. His name will, however, be associ-
ated with four places only: the village where He was born;
that other where He spent His private life; the town which
He made His own by word and miracle ; and the city which
crucified Him; but, among the four, one has a final preemi-
nence. In His own day it was one of the many ironies of His
lot to be called a Nazarene, and to have it flung in His face
that no good thing could come out of Nazareth; while, in fadl.
He was born in the home of David, and the people of Naza-
reth disowned Him with rude violence. In later days it has been
one of the glories of His fame that, while He seledled Caper-
naum for its candour and kindliness, and made it His residence,
and while He never entered Jerusalem except of necessity, and
Jerusalem gave Him nothing but a cross, it is not to the heap

[99]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

i
If

of ruins by the Galilean lake, the very doubtful site of Jesus'
own city, that pilgrims make their way, but to the Mount of
Olives, and to the Church of the Sepulchre. Time changes
the proportion of things ; and although Jesus lived months in
Capernaum, for days in Jerusalem, every one knows that Jesus
won His crowning vidlory, not where He healed the sick and
raised the dead in Galilee, but where He Himself was bound,
and where He died in Jewry. And as conquerors take their
titles from chief battlefields, so the Master, who was once Jesus
of Nazareth, is now, in our ..bought if not our speech, Jesus
of Jerusalem.

It was, after all, of secondary importance where the birth-
place of Jesus was, or the scene of His labors; it was impos-
sible that He Himself or His car*" should be independent of
Jt rusalem. The capital of a country is not as any other city,
however large and interesting: it is supreme. While a nation
is young and unconscious, while it is only forming and has not
realised itself, the capital is but a nume. As soon as the nation
is a unity with a character, a tradition, a mission, it concen-
trates itself in a centre. One place becomes not only its seat of
government, but its seat of thought and feeling. Into it are
gathered the thinkers, leaders, flower of the people. Within the
length and breadth of the land there may be many types, but
the metropolitan is the one which rules and is representative.
The metropolis is the brain into which the nerves gather,
from which the will adls, where everything is felt, appreci-
ated, decided. When one speaks of the Roman empire, one
means Rome ; Greece is a synonym for Athens ; Paris has
monopolised France; and Berlin has come to be the heart of
the greater Germany ; notwithstanding a constitution protedt-
ing local independence, and the vast distances of the United
States, Washington is asserting her place; and with every year
London is more and more absorbing the strength of England.

[lOO]

THE VERDICT OF JERUSALEM

Towards the capital the masters in every department of letters,
art, politics, religion, gravitate: it is on that field great issues
are fought and decided. While the provinces have a voice, the
capital, for weal oi woe, decides the destinies of a land and a
people.

Among the chief cities of the world, Jerusalem had (and still
has) a place beyond parallel. She was chosen in the first flush
of Hebrew nationalism, and established by the founder of the
royal dynasty, round whose person gathers a perennial fascina-
tion, and whose name, under the hand of each new prophet,
blossoms afresh into magnificent predictions. Jerusalem stood
on the site of an ancient fortress, and was beautiful for situa-
tion, being girt about with hills, and of striking elevation. Aus-
tere, strong, commanding, massive, it became this city to be the
capital of the Hebrew people, and the shrine of the Hebrew
faith. Here the throne of David was established, and from
Sion went forth the Law. Here also in due time was built the
Temple of Jehovah, and the ark came to rest. Unto this place,
from the ends of the land and of the world, came the pious
Jew to worship God in His House on the great festivals, going
up with a song, his children and his kinsfolk with him. Far
away in some foreign land, the exiled Jew poured out his
heart in unequalled threnodies, wherein he tiiirsted for God
as the hart for the water brooks, and envied the bird which
made its nest under the eaves of God's House. The Jew car-
ried Jerusalem not in his memory or in his loyalty, but in his
heart, till this city grew into the very hope and ideal of God's
kingdom, so that St. Paul compared the state of grace unto
the new Jerusalem, and St. John saw the Holy City coming
down from Heaven as a bride adorned for her husband.
The dispersion of the Jews and the loss of national independ-
ence did not reduce, but rather reinforced, Jerusalem, giving
her a stronger and more pious hold on her children. More than

[lOl]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

ever she became the centre ot" union for a people politically
broken and persecuted, more than ever their authoritative guide
in the growing perplexities and difficulties of their life. When
an army is defeated, it falls back (if it should be so fortunate)
on an impregnable base; and on ths capital, with her history,
traditions, sandlity, the Jew rested wit!, unquestioning faith in
the days of our Lord. Here as in a citadel, was preserved safe
from harm the pure c> jed; here was held forth the i xample of
divine worship; here the supreme court of thought and con-
duct sat. If any one stepped forth from private life and pre-
sumed to teach, to Jerusalem he must come for approval, from
Jerusalem he could neither escape nor hide. If he went into
the wilderness, there would her agents Hnd and question him;
if he kept himself to Galilee, there would her spies dog him.
He might go to distant cities of the Gentiles, but his case would
be reported to Jerusalem, and a decision issued. As soon as
Jesus assumed the position of a rabbi He came within the
province of Jerusalem, and sooner or later must be judged by
the authorities of the Jewish Church.

Jesus began His ministry in Galilee, ar ' seems at once to have
won the good will of the people, so t' He paid His first visit
to Jerusalem as a prophet with so ' . reputation, and it ap-
peared as if He might leave the provinces behind Him. This
matters little in any country, and in th.u land it mattered
nothing; it was only at the best a success of estimation. G?li-
lee did itself honour by its reception of Jesus, and one can
understand its ready appreciation. The atmosphere in that
northern province was simple, unafFedtcd, liberal; the atmos-
phere of Jerusalem was conventional, narrow, artificial. It were
wrong to conclude that Galilee had never produced prophets
and great men, for she also had her prophots and heroes ; or
that Galilee was rude and uncivilised, for that province was
saturated with Gentile civilisation ; but there is no doubt that

[102]

THE VERDICT OF JERUSALEM

in Jesus' day the native Galilean was considered unlearned ac-
cording to the standard of culture in Jerusalem, ai d that his
very accent was an offence in the capital. He was but a poor
ally in a conflidl with the central Power — qui.k to respond,
quick also to desist, full of sympathy, but easily cowed; a man
whose enthusiastic hosanna woulu die away into a timid quaver
before the fierce, strident cry of the Jew of Jerusalem, "Cru-
cify Him, crucify Him." Ajj,ainst the sullen and massive
strength of Jerusalem the bright spirit and kindly devotion of
Galilee would dash itself in vain. It is difficult to imagine any
one from the provinces conciliating Jerusalem; but when one
came from Nazareth, a by-word for Philistinism, and came
not with the theology of the schools, but with a fresh and win-
some Evangel which had in it the breath of the wmd and the
fragrance of the flowers, it was not difficult to prophesy his fate.
If any one could have awaited the judgment of Jerusalem with
confidence, it was Jesus, for here the light of ancient faith had
burned most clearly, and Jesus was the very glory preached by
the Prophets. If Isaiah alone had not made the scholars of
Israel ready for the Master, then it would seem as if neither
prophecy nor scholarship were of any use. From the eighth
century the best minds of a nation were being trained in the
likeness of the Messiah, and yet the most famous and honoured
could not distinguish it from that of a heretic and a criminal
when he stood before Him. It is, beyond measure, distressing
— so sad an irony on all human study; it is almost incredible
— so immense a stupidity. One must, however, remember, in
order to appreciate the situation, that from that very date on
to Jesus' day there had been two schools of religious thought
in Jerusalem with very different tendencies and effefts. One
was ritual and dogmatic, wnich laid the emphasis on sacri-
fices and observance, on nationalism and customs, so that one
who kept the Temple rites and made many prayers and Iiated

[103]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

the Gentiles was a good Jew. The other was moral and ipir-
ttual, laying stress on the character of the heart, on the con-
dud ot life, on the knowledge of God. so that he who loved
mercy and did justly and walked humbly with God was the
true son of Israel. The priest was the type of the one party,
although, owing to circ-nistances, the Pharisee was its defender
m Jesus' day ; the predict was the forefront of the other, and
between the two there had been a long and irreconcilable feud,
which .ndctii has extended to all lands and all ages. What the
priests di i we can see in the minute and wearisome ceremo-
nial, which was fastened as an intolerable yoke on the Jewish
people. What the prophets said we have read in the most virile
and elevated religious literature ever produced by any people.
Against the bondage and futility, the unreality and hypocrisy,
of ritual the prophets lifted up their voice with biting sarcasm,'
with hot indignation, and with irresistible spiritual force. They
did not spare the foolishness of sacrifices, with their minute
and loathsome regulations, "Wherewith shall I come before
the Lord and bow myself before the high God? Shall I come
before Him with burnt offerings, with calves of a year old?
Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams or with ten
thousands of rivers of oil?" They were very severe on those
early Pharisees who offered ceremonies instead of righteous-
ness. "Bring no more vain oblations: incense is an abomina-
tion to Me: the new moons and sabbaths ... I cannot away with
Wash you, make you clean ... cease to do evil, learn to do
well." They struck out the eternal and searching contrast be-
tween rites and reality. "Sacrifice and offering Thou didst not
desire. . . . Then said I, Lo, I come. ... I delight to do Thy
will, O God." They pierced below all forms to the heart of
things. "Thou desirest not sacrifice. . . Thou delightest not in
burnt offerings. The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit a
broken and contrite heart, O God, Thou wilt not despise."'

[104]

THE VERDICT OF JERUSALEM

Between these schools there can be no reconciliation nor any
via media. The priest may admit that righteousness of life is
desirable, but he will insist that it can be of no avail without
sacrifices; and the prophet will at once grant that through the
barhariiim of sacrifices men have struggled into the secret of
religion, but he will insist that the ground of acceptance with
God must be the obedience i)f the heart, not the blood of goats
and bulls. For long centuries in Israel had the priest and the
prophet been at war, and there can be no question who was
the better. Among the priests there were some brave and good
men, from Phinehas, who executed judgment, to Zacharias,
the father of Jesus' forerunner, and there were liars and char-
latans among the prophets, but on the whole and as a class
the priests were a hindrance and burden to Israel, from Aaron,
who taught the people to worship the golden calf, to Caiaphas,
who led his nation to the great crime of history; and on the
whole and as a class the prophets were a strength and inspira-
tion, from Moses, who gave to Israel the moral code, untoi
John Baptist, who prepared them for Jesus. Unfortunately
there can be as little question who, to appearance, won. The
priest was established, endowed, honoured, obeyed; the
prophet was solitary, feared, persecuted ; the priest had every
advantage of prejudice and custom; the prophet had only the
secret respeft of the reason anu conscience. It was easy to
satisfy the priest — follow the ritual a ■! do then as you please;
the prophet demanded holinebs. The ;-rtcjt taught that you
belonged to an exclusive nation — the f?>'ourites of God, but
the prophet would on occasion suggcjt that Nineveh was as
dear to God. So the prophet was defeated and slain, and the
priest rejoiced in his insolence at Jerusalem. And Jesus was a
prophet in whom the intensity and spirituality of all the
prophets, from Elijah to the Baptist, had been gathered up
and glorified.

['051

U'^

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

The collision between Jesus and Jerusalem was inevital le from
the beginning, and, as it happened, it came on Jesus' first offi-
cial visit to the capital. As a lad at a critical period of His
life He had visited the Temple, and there He had been in-
spired by the teaching of the rabbis. Now he saw things
with larger, deeper eyes. Unto Jesus the Temple of Jerusa-
lem was the visible symbol of His Father's House, although
there was ever before His eyes that House not made with
hands, eternal and spiritual in the Heavenly Places; and the
honour and purity of the Temple were dear to the Master.
To Jesus as a prophet the dangers of an elaborate ritual must
have been very present, and to Him as a man the barbarity of the
sacrifices must have been a keen offence. Conceive what must
have been the horror and disgust of this tender and delicate Soul
as He witnessed that carnival of butchery — the streaming al-
tars, the stench of carnage, the gory priests, the gutters running
blood. It was chara(fleristic of Jesus, however, that He let this
savagery of worship pass, as it had been to pious souls of the past
a gross pidlure of the hideousness of sin and the surrender of
self to God, as it was not at least a hypocrisy and worldly gain.
There was that going on within the outer places of the Tem-
ple which Jesus could not for an instant tolerate, because it
had nothing to do with piety, because it was the very destruc-
tion of religion. Since an immense number of unfortunate
animals were needed for the sacrifices, certain enterprising
traders had started a cattle market in the outer court; and as
it was necessary to change Gentile coins into shekels where-
with to pay the Temple tax, other enterprising bankers had
started a money exchange. Within the very precinfts of God's
House cattle were bought and sold, with loud, heated bargains,
and the chink of money was heard from morning to night,
and it occurs to one at once that it would be the traders and
not the simple folk from the country who would have the

[106]

THE VERDICT OF JERUSALEM

_ best of the transadions. As Jesus looked upon the scene — the
big, coarse, cattle dealers bullying some poor Jew of the Dis-
persion, the sly moneychangers cheating a widow on the turn of
exchange — He was very angry. Availing Himself of His
prophetical authority, before which this herd of hucksters
trembled and cowered, and supported by the goodwill of the
people. He drove far the cattle and upset the money stalls,
using a whip of small cords, and declaring that they had
turned a House of Prayer into a den of thieves.
If one should look at this adlion from a worldly point of view,
it can hardly be called an auspicious opening to Jesus' pro-
phetical career in Jerusalem. His condud: was unguarded and
uncompromising, showing little sense either of the awfulness
of Jerusalem or the obscurity of Galilee. By one stroke He
offended the priests, whose interests were bound up with the
Temple merchandise, and the Pharisees, who stood by the cus-
toms of the past. What would this daring young Prophet do
next? Who would be safe? If the hucksters were cast out to-
day, it would be the turn of the priests with their empty sac-
rifices to-morrow, and the scribes with their empty dodtrines
the day after. If one regards the cleansing of the Temple from
a spiritual standpoint, then it was grand, and a good omen of
Jesus' prophetical work. A Prophet had arisen who revived the
ancient spirit of Isaiah, and who dared to attack the abuses of
religion before the eyes of all the people. Nor was He a hermit
like the Baptist, or a mere iconoclast, for He was one who re-
joiced in everything human, and wrought miracles of mercy.
Hisgentleness was to the weak, Hisanger against thestrong; and
if He was eaten up with zeal, it was the zeal of God's House.
The cleansing of the Temple declared Jesus to be on the side
of the prophets and against the priests ; and on that visit the
authorities marked the Master as a turbulent and dangerous
demagogue, whom they must watch and might have to sup-

[107]

^\\

Hi -

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

press. It was not their policy to show their hand or to aft
rashly, since they were not indifferent to the favour of the peo-
ple, and the influence of John Baptist had to be reckoned with.

The prophets had been a power — very disturbing to priests

and they had secured one advantage at least for real religion
— that a prophet must be heard. It would be madness to
silence Jesus at once ; He was, at least, a candidate for the
prophetship, and even such an iconoclastic action as the cleans-
ing of the Temple was sandioned by prophetical usage. Peo-
ple were already quoting from Isaiah in his favour, and He had
Himself used certain words of Jeremiah in a very bold fashion.
Let Him rather be put to a conventional and unobjeftionable
test : and so the rulers came to the Master, representing with
smooth courtesy and plausible words, that as He did the proph-
et's work He ought to show them the prophet's sign. It was
not that they douhted or wished to criticise Him, but they had
a responsibility in this matter of religion, and the sign was to
be simply for their satisfadtion and His confirmation. Jesus re-
plied with one of His charafteristic riddles, which He used to
baffle dishonest people and to stimulate His disciples' thought.

Destroy this Temple in its strength and magnificence by

which He evidently intended the worn-out system of sacri-
fices and forms — and in three days — a proverbial figure for a
short time — I will raise it up ; by which He meant that He
would create a new and nobler religion. His critics could
make nothing of His answer at the time, but they stored it
away, in all its audacity and perplexity, and some two years
later it served the rulers' purpose, for by this very answer,
twisted to their own meaning by perjured witnesses, the Mas-
ter's life was sworn away. Nothing more passed at that time
between Jesus and the Sanhedrim, but the Jewish Church
had pradtically rejected Jesus, and His death charge was al-
ready in the archives of the Jewish Inquisition.

[108]

Chapter XII: His Own City

I'S^r--.^

I^^^3Hh^^9HH

T is a law of human life that
while the seen passes and is
forgotten, the unseen remains
and is treasured. What confers
on a place immortality and a
secure hold, on history and
men's hearts, is not its situation
or size, its wealth or grandeur,
but the heroes who have lived
there and the work they have
done. Unto the end of the
chapter people will pass kings* castles and huge cities to visit
Stratford-on-Avon and Grasmere, Concord and Assisi, for the
sake of choice souls who have made life richer and brought
Heaven nearer. Generation after generation wants to see the
woods of Shakespere, the hills of Wordsworth, the sweet Um-
brian ways along which St. Francis sang of Jesus, the path to
Thoreau's wood Emerson paced so often. Contemporaries can-
not tell for certain who are the immortals of their day; time
alone, like an irresistible and impartial acid, will destroy the
common paste and declare the imperishable gem. We are apt
to be impressed by some blatant personage, swollen with the
honours of the people; we overlook the man of genius whose
name will pass into the records of the race. Shrewd traders may
cram a city with silver and gold and its name be forgotten in
a century; let one of its people write a hundred pages of true

[109]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

literature, and he will have rescuer! his birthplace from ob-
livion for ever. It is not the king, nor the soldier, nor the mil-
lionaire who glorifies his dwelling-place unto all generations;
it is the poet, the saint, and the prophet.
A supreme illustration of this law can be found on the shores
of the Sea of Galilee. In the beginning of the first century two
towns stood on the w -stern edge of the Sea of Galilee, and only
a short distance apart, which were a visible and striking con-
trast. One was Tiberias, the political capital of the province of
Galilee and the residence of Herod Antipas,its Tetrarch, whose
magnificent palace was reflefted on the bosom of the lake, and
whose licentious court scandalised the distridt. The other was
Capernaum, a town which had neither distinftion nor feshion,
but depended for a modest prosperity on its fishing industry,*
Its cistom house, and its situation on the caravan road between
Damascus and the coast. It was a busy little commercial town
m the shadow of glittering, brazen Tiberias, whose citizens
worked hard for their bread, and saw, the great folk pass in
their glory to and from the local capital. There is no mention
of the town in Old Testament history; and if Joscphus gives
It a place in his pages, it is only because he was carried there
after an accident, yet to-day, save for a medical mission, the
miserable village of Tiberias is negledled. while learned per-
sons dispute keenly the site of Capernaum, and travellers are
thankful that amid the ruins of Tell-Hum the remains of a
synagogue can still be found.

Some devout Christians will not visit Palestine because theglory
of the land has departed under the Turkish blight and the pro-
fanity of modern improvements. This Galilee, barren and de-
serted, is very different from the smiling land, with its crowded
villages, through which Jesus moved in His pity and grace.
Others have a pious interest in seeing the lake which Jesus so
often crossed, and treading the great roads along which He went

[no]

HIS OWN CITY

on His journeys. Whether they have ever seen the Holy Land
or not, all the disciples of the Master must carry within their
imagination the map of Galilee for ever associated with Jesus,
and this map has been created by love. It matters not how pros-
perous or famous a town may have been, if Jesus did not
honour it with His presence, it will have no place in this sa-
cred geography; it is nothing that a village was small and ob-
scure if the Master wrought His mighty works there, or found
a disciple, or received a kindness, its name is written in im-
perishable letters; and this map, which is rather a pidture
and a home, has for its heart and centre not Tiberias but
Capernaum, since Tiberias was only the city of Herod Anti-
pas, but Capernaum was Jesus' own city.
It is usually a man's lot to live in various places, but there will
be one which is his choice and to which his heart is given.
Jesus was born in Bethlehem; He was educated in Nazareth;
He was crucified in Jerusalem; in none of those arrangements
had He any voice. For three years or so He could arrange His
life as He pleased, and His first act of freedom on the thresh-
old of His great career, was to fix upon the sphere of His labour
and the centre from which He would evangelise it. Three places
already competed for His favour, and each made its own appeal.
He might have fixed His home in the wilderness of Judea whither
John Baptist had drawn the people and made them ready for
the kingdom. Here, where Jesus had accepted the guilt of the
people, He might have saved them; where He had conquered
Satan He might h:\ve cast Satan out. But Jesus had • love for
what was repulsiveand inhuman — thedesertand the Id beast.
Dear to our Master was the sight of human faces, and the works (
of men, and the sound of children's voices, and the softness of \
Nature. It would seem as if Jerusalem was determined before-
hand to be the city of Jesus, — as indeed in the end it was to be
His by the conquest of the Cross — for outofjerusalema prophet

[III]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

\ i

could hardly perish, and there had the chief prophets declared
the Will of God. Here was surely the vantage ground from
which the new voice could reach the ends of the Jewish world;
here were the men who could understand the new message and
be its fit apostles. On the other hand, it is plain that Jesus
would really have had no opportunity in the capital and would
have had every one against Him — the priests whose interests
He touched, the Pharisees whose doctrines He did not hold, and
the Romans who were suspicious of every reference to a king-
dom. It was inevitable that He should be persecuted ; it was cer-
tain that He would be put to death, but He must have a space
wherein to sow His seed, and that He could not have in Judea.
Nazareth, again, had none of the dangers of the capital, and it
had been His home for thirty years. Here in the bosom of the
hills, far from the bigotry of Jerusalem and the ferment of the
towns. He might lay the foundations of His society. But it is not
always an advantage to be among your own people, and Jesus
did not desire a secluded village for His jirst effort. For His mis-
sion was ncededatownundominatedbythccapital, in touch with
a large population, with an open-minded people. Capernaum ful-
filled every condition, and Jesus chose it for His own city.
For the Master and His work, as the Evangelist of the Divine
Love, it was not the least advantage that by general consent the
Lake of Galilee was byfar the loveliest spot in the HolyLand,so
that the rabbis had a saying, "The land has seven seas, but Gen-
nesaret God made for himself" Twelve miles long and rather
more than seven at its widest, shaped like a lyre, and broken as
to its shores into many curves and little headlands, with blue
water and white sand, the Lake of Galilee lay amid its sloping
green hills a vision of peace and beauty. On the eastern side the
ground rose in billows of green, cut by ravines into the wilderness,
where Jesus went for solitude and where He spent so many hours
of intimate communion with God. Between the hills and the lake

[112]

HIS OWN CITY

on the western side lay the Plain of Gennesarct, than which
there was no more fertile spot in the world. In this garden,
watered by mountain streams and rich in volcanic soil, Nature,
Josephus declares, had outdone herself, casting aside for once her
limitations of place and season and revelling in the very license
of produftion, for the walnut, the palm, the olive and the vine
grew side by side, and for ten months out of the twelve fruit
could be found in Gennesarct. All Galilee was, in those happy
days, a land of streams and fountains, of woodsand flowers, and the
very heart thereof was the Lake of Tiberias. While the des-
ert ot Judea, with its arid sands, suggested the austerity of life,
the valleys of Galilee, smiling with corn, were a parable of the
gladness of life. It was fitting that the Baptist should thunder re-
pentance amid a scene of desolation; it was fitting that Jesus
should proclaim the excellent grace of the Kingdom of Heaven
with a background of beauty.

Galilee had this further attradtion for the Master, that it was not
only blessed by Nature, but also crowded with people. Some fif-
teen towns lay on the shores of the lake, prosperous and stirring
with life,making an almost continuous line of human homcs.Thc
lake was never without the sails of a fishing boat or the glitter
of a royal galley. Along her great west road, called the Way by
theSea, camecaravansfrom Damascus to Greece; down her south
road went droves of camels to Egypt, and her innumerable by-
ways were crowded with many feet in that mostpopulous of prov-
inces. The stir of the Gentile world was felt in Galilee ; her own
life was bright and strenuous. If the Galileans had a provincial
accent, like a western man in New York, or a Lancashire man
in London, and if they were ignorant of the refinements of the-
ological culturein which Jerusalem delighted, they were quicker
and keener than the Judeans. They were less held by conven-
tionalities, and less fettered by prejudices ; they were more open
and enthusiastic ; they were nearer the heart of things. When

["3]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

hi.

Jesus began His ministry in Galilee, He laid His hand on the
living pulse of the nation and of the world.
As some centre was needed from which the Master could go out
on His missionary journeys, Jesus chose the village of Caperna-
um, and there He was more or less resident during His Galilean
ministry. Round this town, whose very site is doubtful, gathers
an afFedtionate interest, andsomany were the incidents that hap-
pened here that one can reconstruft His Capernaum from the
Gospels, till its streets be familiar ground, and we know its houses
at sight. Here is the modest little synagogue, which the Ro-
man officer in command of the local garrison built as a mark of
respedt for the Jewish religion — whose excellency he had dis-
covered beneath its crust of fanatical bigotry ; and as a testimony
of his own faith in God — to whose knowledge he had come
through the Hebrew Scriptures. Yonder ire the quarters where
his servant lay sick, and whence he sent ihe message which won
so high approval from Jesus. It was in this synagogue that Jesus
cast out a devil one Sabbath, and, latef on, delivered His great
discourse on Everlasting Life. Upon the outskirts stood the op-
probrium of Capernaum, and the object of undying Jewish hate
— a Roman custom house ; and here any day you might see Levi
receiving taxes from those who journeyed along the Way of
the Sea, and there, within stone's throw, is his private house,
where one day he assembled his friends together, all fellow out-
casts from society, and entertained Jesus at a feast in celebration
of his new life. If we go to the other end of Capernaum, where
live the magnates of the little community, we are still in the Gos-
pels, for that is the house of Jairus, the ruler of the synagogue,
where Jesus raiseJ i^ little maid from death and filled the house
with gladness ; and on the other side of the street is the impos-
ing residence of Simon the Pharisee, wh - Jesus was treated
with such cold courtesy, and Mary Magdal' -ntered into peace.
This again is only a street of poor homes, i. t yet it is memo-

[«U]

.>*M

HIS OWN CITY

rable, and cannot be passed by, for it was here that four faithful
souls lifted the roof of a house and laid their sick friend at Jesus'
feet; and the woman lived who touched the hem of Jesus' gar-
ment and was healed. Near to the shore is the dwelling of Si-
mon Peter.wherejesus wasa guest.andatwhosedoorthesickof
Capernaum were gatheredone evening for His blessing, and here
is the very place where the people stood while Jesus preached
from a boat moored a little distance from the shore. Upon that
lake Jesus walked, and Peter went to meet him ; through one of
its sudden, dangerous storms Jesus lay asleep in the boat ; from
its waters came the miraculous draught of fishes, and on its shore
the Master showed Himself after the Resurredion.
Never in the history of religion has any place had such privi-
leges as Capernaun^ For two years the Master lived among its
people, homely an "accessible, easy to be entreated and friendly
with all. They could hear Him in the synagogue or in the open
air; they could speak with Him on the street or in His lodgings.
There was no kind of mighty work He did not perform in Ca-
pernaum; there was no sorrow He did not compassionate. Never
could the power and love of God have been brought so near hu-
man hearts as in this favoured place. And it would not be true
to say that Jesus laboured in vain, for from this place and neigh-
bourhood He drew His Apostles; and here He found some of
His most loyal friends. It remains, however, undeniable and most
lamentable that the desire of Jesus' heart was not fulfilled, and
that He bade farewell to the towns ofthe lake with asense of dis-
appointment and a confession of failure. Galilee had given the
Master a cordial hearing, and surrounded Him with enthusiasm,
and afforded Him apostles, but Galilee as a whole had not be-
lieved in Him nor cast in its lot with His kingdom; only a few
had heard the Divine call and obeyed; the rest had been as the
shallow soil, wherein the seed springs up quickly, and then as
quickly withers awixy, So it came to pass that Galilee rejeded

[115]

i i

. f
t

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

Jc8U8, through fickleness, as Jerusalem was to crucify Him
through bigotry ; and the guilt of Galilee was the greater. As Jesus
thought of the day of salvation given unto the cities of the lake
and their foolishness. He lifted up His voice in sorrow and in-
dignation, " Woe unto thee, Chorazin I" " Woe unto thee, Beth-
saida!" and then as He looked on the city that He had made
His own by His choice and labour, bathed in thelight of the set-
ting sun. His voice takes a deeper note, " And thou. Capernaum,
which art exalted unto heaven, shalt be brought down to hell:'
ifthemighty workswhichhavebeen done in thee had been done
in Sodom, it would have remained unto this day. But I say unto
you, that it shall be more tolerable for the land of Sodom in the
day of judgment than for thee."

[ii6]

SITE OF BETHSAIDA ON THE LAKE f F GALILEE

I.JJLiA,) \() AA/ A nil /') MIl/ynriH lo } I 1^

Chapter XIII: The Rejeaion of
Nazareth

ETWEEN the outgoing of Je-
sus from Nazareth, when He
went to the baptism of John,
and His home-coming, when
He returned to Nazareth from
Capernaum, there were, pos-
sibly, only a few months in
time, bat there was an incal-
culable difference in life. He
left with the recent convic-
tion of the Messiahship, and
He returned with the open witness of God to His call. He left
with the sense of latent power. He returned with the sandion
of mighty works. The spiritual impulses and heavenly dreams
of youth — the blossoms of spring — had come to fruit, and
His mysterious aloofness, as of one living here in disguise, had
been vindicated. At the quiet hour of noon when He rested
from labour, or in the evening as He wandered on the hill-
side above the village. He hid imagined the outer world and
the work before Hirn. Now He came down from the glory
of the capital, and up from the stir of Capernaum, having laid
His hand to God's work, and not having been put to confu-
sion. It was not possible that He could be elated, for from the
day of His baptism to the day of His crucifixion He was the
lo'vliest in all the land; nor could He be free from a certain
sad anticipation. Who already knew that He would be rejedted

["7]

amm

"frr

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

by the rulers of His people. .Still it was with a just sense of His
new position that He revisitf d the scenes of His youth, and
the one desire in His heart was to confer that blessing with
which He was charged, and which had already made glad
Capernaum. ,

Notwithstanding the lamentable sscene that was to take place
in the synagogue, we may believe that on the Friday evening,
as Jesus came up the village street, His fellow townsmen re-
garded His return with kindly interest. It has to be accepted
as a lamentable fad that the perplexity of dull minds, which
cannot appreciate spiritual genius near at hand, hindered His
own family from believing on Him, and that religious bigotry
in the end turned tht hearts of His fellow citizens against
Him; but it is not credible that Jesus could have lived for
thirty years in Nazareth, going out and in among His fellow-
men, even with all the reserves of those days, without being
marked and loved. If in His youth He worked no miracles.
He had the heart ••o sympathise with suffering; and if He
preached no discourse. He must have dropped sayings which
were treasured in some pious hearts. Nor is it possible that of
all in Nazareth, however uncouth, dull and unspiritual the lit-
tle town may have been, none anticipated His greatness. Even in
Nazareth there must have been a few discerning souls — His
teacher of the synagogue, a fellow scholar brighter than his
class, some aged saint with whom he hrxd conversed on spir-
itual things, a friend of later years, like the young men of
Galilee — who were not astonished when the news of His ap-
pearances in Capernaum reached the highland town, and who
went that memorable Sabbath morning to the synagogue with
a high hope.

It is not possible to exaggerate the position of the synagogue
in a village like Nazareth, and its nearest parallel may be found
in that land which has copied so much from the Jewish

[Il8]

THE REJECTION OF NAZARETH

Church, and into whose charader so much of the Jewish
strength has been woven. As the traveller passes through some
rural parish in Scotland, he will notice in some sheltered place,
facing the sun, a clump of buildings which are withered with
age, and have a certain simple dignity. They are the kirk and
the manse, the school and schoolmaster's house, with God's
acre round the kirk, and this is the heart and brain of the par-
ish. It is here that the people have learned all they know of
this world and the next; here that they are bound by their free-
dom and the graves of their fathers to the generations which
are gone, by their children and the Resurredtion of the Lord
to the generations to come ; here that they have been made in-
telligent men and sturdy patriots, and believing Christians;
here that they realise their unity, and their duties, and their
fellowship as part of a religious and political commonwealth.
The Jewish synagogue was not pi<fluresque, but that was the
service it also rendered to its community. Under its shadow
the children were taught to read and to know their one litera-
ture, the Sacred Writings. Within it, on Sabbath, old and
young met to worship the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.
It kept in their remembrance the glorious history of Israel,
and sustained them against the misfortunes of the present. The
elders of the synagogue were the magistrates of the district,
and expulsion from this place was expatriation from the na-
tion: into this place gathered the life of the people, and the
synagogue was the strength and expression of the Jewish com-
mon life.

The synagogue of Nazareth would be a plain and homely
building standing north and south, with likely three doors, and,
it might be, three aisles. The men and women would sit apart,
the most distinguished in front, while the younger and poorer
were behind, so that in Nazareth Jesus first saw from His ob-
scure place the unholy scramble for "chief seats." Nothing

[H9]

^f'-Q

■X

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

could be simpler than the fittings of the synagogue : a platform
and reading-desk for the reader, and a chest for the Sacred
Writings. The service opened by what was called the Shema.
and may be described as a creed, beginning with the noble words[
" Hear, O Israel : the Lord our God is one Lord. And thou shalt
love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul,
and with all thy might." The prayers followed, which someone
led from the front of the chest, wherein lay the Law, and the con-
gregation responded. A section of the Law was then read— the
whole reading of the Pentateuch was completed in three years—
and then a portion from the Prophets, which the reader could
choose where he pleased. After the reading some one gave an
address in which the Scripture read was explained and ap-
plied, and the benedidlion was pronounced by a priest. Over
the synagogue an officer called the ruler presided, and an-
other, who is described as the minister, had charge of the
Scriptures. The whole constitution of the synagogue was an ad-
mirable illustration of a strong and free democracy, where
there were officers to secure order and administer justice, and
yet every member of the commonwealth had his share in the
public service and a regulated liberty of utterance.
With this place Jesus had many sacred associations and He
could not that Sabbath morning enter it without a tender heart.
In His childhood He had been taken here by His mother and
Joseph; in His youth He had heard in this place those Prophets
whkh had so affedled His mind. As He came to full man-
hood He would seek here for that deeper meaning which was
as yet hidden from the people and was only beginning to break
on Him. One may reasonably believe that as Jesus used to
listen to the commonplace and weary exposition of some rabbi
He would imagine that happy day when a preacher after the
type of the ancient prophets, should appear in their midst and
make known unto the congregation the mind of God, and no

[120]

THE REJECTION OF NAZARETH

doubt the impulse was often strong within Him to declare the
thoughts which were burning in His heart. He restrained
Himself and remained silent ; .;nd now He was to speak that
day in the synagogue of His childhood and of His mother,
— not as any villager might if he pleased, but with the repu-
tatic .1 of a prophet ; so that as soon as He had read the second
lesson " the eyes of all were fastened upon Him." As He
could read where and what He pleased from the Prophets,
Jesus seleded the description of the Messiah and His work
from the book of Isaiah :

"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 brokenhearted, to preach deliverance to the
captives, and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty
them that are bruised, to preach the acceptable year of the
Lord."

This was the beautiful and heavenly hope which had visited
the Prophets : that amid the kingdoms which stood in brute
force and merciless violence, in pride and iniquity, one should
arise in God's time whose glory would be Humility and Pity,
Holiness and Peace. For centuries this idea had been only
a dream, and men had begun to conclude that it was too good
to be true and now, in the village synagogue of Nazareth, Jesus
declared that it had come. Here was laid down in inspired
vision the progr?mme of His own religion, which was to be
for the poor, and the sad, and the sinner, and the simple, and
the hopeless, for all the people who were crippled and ill-used
and cast down and helpless in this world's fight.
Various happy circumstances conspired to commend the ad-
dress of Jesus, and for the moment to win the suffrages of His
audience. In spite of spiritual stupidity and Pharisaic pedantry
it did count for something that the Prophets had been read in
the synagogues and that the people were familiar with their

[121]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

If
1

Messianic conception. The soil might be shallow and unclean,
but some seed had been dropped in and was bound to appear
above ground. Every Jew had also been grounded in the char-
ader of God; and however the fair proportions had been clouded
over by racial and theological prejudice, yet he believed in the
" Lord God merciful and gracious." Between this God and this
kingdom of mercy there was a convincing and inspiring cor-
respondence, so that if any Kingdom of God was going to be
established on earth it would be after this fashion. Besides this
new state had already given in that very synagogue a pledge of
its success, and that was in its appeal to the needs of men. Its
constituents and subjefts are already there in that poor family
hiding themselves in the back of the synagogue, in that widow
who has just lost the husband of her youth, in that lad whom
Satan torments, in the sightless eyes of that old man, in the va-
cant face of that girl, in the droop of that head which tells of
dreary failure. And the Prophet's words are already confirmed
and almost realised by the personality of the speaker. Who, sit-
ting thert before them in His grace and purity, speaks as a
king from his throne. A sudden wave of spiritual emotion swept
over the congregation, and carried them away in a joyful en-
thusiasm. They turned one to another demanding and receiv-
ing consent, and from every part of the synagogue broke forth
cries of thankfulness and admiration. Nazareth bare open wit-
ness to the gracious words Jesus spake; it was His brief mo-
ment of acceptance in the village of His youth.
Then, as the shallow water of an inland lake is suddenly lashed
into a storm by a gust of wind from some ravine, the scene
within the synagogue changed from rejoicing to hatred. The
people of Nazareth had been so moved by the spiritual efFedl
of Jesus that they had for the time forgotten His circumstances.
As He spake of the Messianic salvation He had been, as it were,
transfigured before them, and their eyes had been dazzled.

[122]

THE REJECTION OF NAZARETH

When the excitement cooled, they began to look faiJts in the
face, and ask questions. It was a magnificent passage and a
wonderful exposition; but what of the Preacher Who was to
accomplish these mighty works, and claimed to be anointed
of God unto that end? If He had come from some secret place
like Elijah, or even from the wilderness like the Baptist, their
poor human nature, which is ever impressed by the unknown,
might have asked no questions. But it was His misfortune
(their good fortune) to have lived among these people, so that
they knew everything about Him, from the colour of His eyes
to the shop where He worked. One had been a maiden friend
of Mary; another had wrought at the >ame bench with Jo-
seph; a third lived next door to Jesus' brother; a fourth had
in his house a piece of this Man's handiwork. The Messiah,
one who might have been seen any day working in a carpenter's
shed, with whom they have often spoken on village affairs,
the son of two worthy villagers of the poorer class, what ab^
surdity! and, mark you, what presumption also ! And now what
did they see in the high plate of the synagogue? A carpenter
whose head was turned,— that now and nothing more.
It is one of the ironies of life which is ever being repeated, that
a prophet has no honour in his ovrn country. Strangers from
other lands come to visit the country parish where a poet lives,
and carry away flowers from the hedgerows which surround
his home, but his neighbours have no interest in his greatness,
and tell stupid stories about his habits. The outside world envi^
the family of some good man because they have the privilege"of
his company from morning to night, but they themselves treat
him with scant resped, and have no sympathy with his visions.
This may mean that the poet is really a petty person, md the
saint only a weakling; but it may also mean that familiarity
with greatness has blunted the sense of admiration, and that
which is a wonder unto many is in the minds of those who are

[«23]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

nearest to it a very common thing. An innumerable multitude
of the wisest of our race would have given their treasures to have
seen Jesus for an hour and had converse with Him ; but He lived
thirty years in Nazareth, and declared to his fellow townsmen
the richness of the Messianic hope, a'nd the end of it was they
said, " Is not this the carpenter's son?"

The synagogue which, a short while ago, had echoed with
criesof appreciation was filled with contempt and suspicion, and,
amid the confused murmurs that floated up to Him, Jesus
caught another complaint. Nazareth had heard of the mighty
works He had wrought in Capernaum on His first Sabbath there,
and it was natural that they should have expefted to see like won-
ders in their town What He did for this strange place Jesus was
bound to do for Hisown folk, not of grace but of duty. Yet the day
was passing, and no sick one had been healed ; and they laid the
blame on Jesus, understanding not that the hindrance was not
in Him but in them. They imagined that because they were of
Nazareth they had a right to His miracles; but He must remind
them that they were only wrought in an atmosphere of faith,
and that the Divine mercy was not confined even to Jews but
rested gladly on believing Gentiles. Elijah was a fiercely Jewish
prophet, and yet he was sent to the widow of Sarepta, though
there were many widows in Israel. Elisha was his son in the
succession, and yet it was Naaman the Syrian he healed, though
there were many lepers in Israel. What He might have done
in Nazareth they could not imagine; but not\vithstanding that
brief paroxysm of devotion, their attitude was one of criticism
and unbelief ; and while Jesus would save distant peoples, of
whom they had never heard, for Nazareth He could do nothing.
It was then that the evil spirit of this turbulent village burst
into uncontrollable and senseless fury. They surrounded Him be-
fore the chest of the Scriptures, whcreinlay the prophecy of His
coming; they hustled Him from the synagogue, where He had

['24]

THE REJECTION OF NAZARETH

preached His Evangel; they dragged Him through the town
which had seen His holy youth; they brought Him to a rocky
height, from which He had often looked down in past years ;
and then, had it depended on the men of Nazareth, the career
of Jesus had there ended. But once again His august personality
asserted itself, and the rabble, which had done homage to His
grace, fell back before His awful Majesty. Jesus passed through
their midst, and departed, and this was His farewell to Nazareth.

[125]

Chapter XIV: Heretics of Samaria

T could not be said with any
truthfulness that the attitude
of a Jew towards a '^"■eatile
was cordial, but it was friendly
and afFedlionate compared
with his feelings towards a
Samaritan, whom he regarded
with persistent and virulent
hatred. \s often as the Jews
met for worship in the former
times they cursed the Samari-
tans, so that they also had their creed, in which unchari-
tableness was raised to a virtue, and a hereditary enmity was
inflamed. No Samaritan was allowed to give evidence in a
Jewish court of justice, so that his position as a man was that
of a slave, and, worse than that, of a criminal. When a Jew
desired to express his dislike to any man with whose theology
he did not agree he called him a Samaritan — just as religious
people of our day are apt to call any teacher a Unitarian who
does not hold their theory of the atonement — by which the
Jews did not mean to say that the teacher had been born in Sa-
maria, but only that he was a heretic, which was quite as bad.
This nickname was the handiest (and sharpest) road metal with
which to strike him ; it was the most opportune name with
which to bring him into contempt, and it is a supreme illus-
tration of the principle of religious abuse as well as a very

['27]

If '

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

pathetic circumstance, that our Master, Who was of pure
Jewish blood, and Who was filled with the noblest spirit of
Jewish religion, was called a Samaritan by the Jewish perse-
cutors and was said to have a devil.

This passion of hatred on the part of the Jew against the Sa-
maritan had two reasons, ard the first, which indeed can only
by courtesy be called a reason, appears to have been that the
Samaritan was extremely like a Jew, and there is no person
whom the average man so intensely dislikes as the person who
is of other blood and yet claims kinship. A stranger he may
regard with suspicion; this impudent neighbour he will de-
nounce as an impostor. According to their own account of
themselves, the Samaritans were the representatives of the Ten
Tribes, the descendants of the few Jews who may have been
left in the northern kingdom when their brethren were ex-
patriated, and of those who found iheir way back from exile.
Perhaps a Samaritan might not contend that his blood was
absolutely pure, without any foreign admixture, but he prided
himself on a strain of Jewish blood so undoubted and de-
cided that he was entitled to call himself a Jew, and to
include himself in the Mosaic covenant. According to the Jew-
ish account, every one of his brethren of the Ten Tribes had
been deported into heathendom and had disappeared, and the
places of the exiles had been taken by a pack of Gentiles
brought from the East; and therefore the later inhab:tants of
Samaria lay under this double stigma, that they had not a single
drop of blood which was not base and alien, and that they
were usurpers in the place of the seed of Abraham. There was
here material for fruitful and perennial controversy— a hot
spring of evil feeling. Suppose that two families, of (pra<5li-
cally) the same name, live near one another in a town, one
rich and in society, the other poor and out of society, then it
will simply depend on one circumstance whether or not there

[128]

HERETICS OF SAMARIA

be trouble. If the plebeians know their place and never claim
to be in the remotest degree connedled with the patricians in
this community of name and residence, then the patricians
will, if it be necessary to make any reference, speak with con-
descension and charity of their less-favored namesakes. But if
those outsiders give out that they are cadets of the same house,
who simply have fallen on evil days, then the mind of the pa-
tricians will be entirely changed. They will be careful to let it
be known that these other people are simply upstans and will
take every opportunity of denouncing them and all their
works. If you desire to insult the original stock, all you have
to do is to refer to their pseudo-relatives. The Samaritans posed
as the poor relations of the Jewish race, and, as the Jews de-
clared with much emphasis, were unknown and disreputable
strangers.

There was another and more tangible reason for enmity, and
that was not racial but geographical. The Samaritans had set
themselves down in the very centre of the Holy Land, and in
a rich and pidturesque province, so that the country was split
as with a wedge by these alien intruders, and its continuity
was broken. The Galilean coming up to worship at Jerusalem
on the great feasts must needs go through Samaria, or make a
long detour by the Jordan. As a matter of fad the Galileans
took the nearest road, and, as may be imagined, there was much
friaion between the Jewish pilgrims and the heretic inhabit-
ants. The Samaritans had the power to make it pleasant or
unpleasant for travellers, and it was perhaps human that they
were apt to make the journey anything but pleasant for Jews.
So strained indeed were the relations that the paramount east-
ern law of hospitality was disregarded, and the stranger was
left without food or water. One has a vivid illustration of the
state of feeling when Jesus and His disciples were refused meat
by a Samaritan villager, and His two hottest disciples, realis-

[129]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

ing that a good opportunity for paying back old scores had
come at last, wished to call down fiie from Heaven on the
churlish people. The sin of a strong man is tyranny, and the
sin of a little man is spite; and the Samaritans did certain mean
and vexatious injuries to the Jews. It was the patriotic custom
of the home Jews to light a fire on a hill near Jerusalem at
Passover time, and other Jews passed the signal from hill to
hill, till the beacon flashed on distant cities ; and distant Jews,
eating out their hearts in exile, knew that the feast of deliver-
ance was being kept in the capital, and that the Dispersion
had been remembered. The bitterest enemy might well have
sympathised with this touching aft and allowed it to pass, but
It was the cause of just indignation among the Jews that the
Samaritans would, out of pure wickedness, light false fires on
their hills and throw the anxious exiles into hopeless confu-
sion. And so the Jew hated the Samaritan, and the Samaritan
returned the hatred with interest.

When Jesus began His mission, the Samaritans were one of the
problems He had to face, and His solution is an example to
the Christian Church in every age. It was impossible for Jesus
to ignore the Samaritans — they were too much in evidence
and too insistent ; it was not expedient for Him to include Sa-
maria in His work — He must confine Himself to Israel: but
it was possible and almost imperative that as a prophet He should
state His mind on Samaria, and as the Founder of the Church
should declare the relation of His Church to heretics, for Sa-
maria is ever with us. His attitude to the individual Samaritan
was one of charadleristic kindness; and it is to be remem-
bered that friendliness to the heretic of your own community
is, of all forms of charity, the most difficult and hazardous. Yet
Jesus goes out of His way to say a good word for this detested
people, and to place them higher even than the Jews; for in
one of His most persuasive parables it is the priest and the Le-

['30]

HERETICS OF SAMARIA

vite— classical types of Jewish orthodoxy — who pass the
wounded traveller by, and a Samaritan who saves his life; and
so the word Samaritan, which in the mouth of a Jew was syn- ■
onymous with Devil, has by this single touch of Jesus become,
through the modern world, unother name for Philanthropist'
So keenly did Jesus feel the scorn and contempt cast on these
unfortunates that He was ever on the outlook to vindicate their
character and give them credit; and so when He points out
that of ten lepers whom He healed, one only gave thanks He
is careful to add, " And he was a Samaritan." Between these
national and ecclesiastical outcasts and Jesus there was indeed
a pathetic kinship, for He was called by theii name, and suf-
fered more than their curse.

After His fashion of Divine simplicity the deliverance of our
Master on the heretics of Samaria was given, as it were by ac-
cident, to a woman on whose kindness Jesus cast Himself at
the Well of Sychar. He began by asking water of her from la-
cob's well, and He ended by offering her to drink of the water
of hfe ; but before they parted He had laid down two positions
which are ever to be kept in mind because they are full of
hght and charity. The first is this: that the Samaritans as well
as the Je'"s are also the children of the one Father. So many
of His children worshipped at Jerusalem, and so many at
Mount Gerizim; those at Jerusalem had a fuller Bible and
richer privileges ; but the fact that the Samaritans had not been
so favoured r.s the Jews was no reason to suppose that God was
indifferent to them, and no ground on which to ill-treat them
Jesus did not despise the Samaritans because He was born a
Jew- ,ss would He have persecuted them : His attitude

was pity and help. If one has eyes to see, let him thank God.
Why, m the name of God and Reason, should he rail at his
poor brother who is blind? and why should he wish to push
him over the precipice ? After all, beneath all diversities of race

[131]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

and creed lies the deeper unity of the human brotherhood and
the Divine Fatherhood. Very soon the slight distinctions be-
tween Samaria and Jerualem would pass away and be forgot-
ten in the wider faith and more spiritual worship of which
Jesus was the Teacher. Jesus' own spirit was to dissolve all bar-
riers b> raising the children of His Heavenly Father to that
level where men forget racial and theological f uds in spiritual
fellowship with God. Like -ther schismatics, the Samaritans
were the witnesses to some u. cognised truth, and in their case
It was the comprehensive breadth of the family and Church
of God.

At the same time Jesus distindly laid it down that the Samar-
itans had suffered great loss in being separated from the Jews.
They had the Law, and therein they were rich ; they had
not the Prophets, and therein they were poor. They wor-
shipped the true God, but they knew not what they worshipped.
God the Lawgiver was theirs — the Jehovah of Moses— not
God the Redeemer, the God of Isaiah. That poor unfortunate
with whom Jesus spoke knew enough Law to be condemned
and ashamed. She knew not the Divine grace of the first and
fifty-third chapters of Isaiah to be comforted and saved. In
this way of it salvation was of the Jews, and it is also of the
Church Catholic. This is that body of people which holds the
Fatherhood of God, and the Deity of His Sen [esus Christ and
the indwelling of the Holy Ghost, the viftory over sin by the
Cross and the Life everlasting; and the only heretics worth
the name are those who somehow or other have lost the heart
of this Faith. Is it not the case that the Catl.olic Church has
had a strength of faith, a fire of zeal, and a gladness of hope not
given to the others ? The Jews had Mount Sion, the Samaritans
had only Mount Sinai, and yet the Samaritans, without any
prophets, were waiting for the Messiah. "When He cometh,"
said this outcast of Samaria, "He will tell us all things"; and

[132]

HERETICS OF SAMARIA

to her He revealed Himself as He would not to the rulers of
the Jews, for He said, without veil or parable, " I am He."
Truly, as the v/oman said, the "well is deep," and buckets of
human creeds and theolcgies bring up little water, and often
much earth, but He is a hand Who giveth unto every simple
soul the water of Everlasting Life.

[133]

il'

Chapter XV: Jesus and the Nations

HEN we remember how many
Jesus teaches to-day, Whose
words have gone forth unto
the ends of the world, when we
see in how many lands He is
known Who is now a citizen
of every civilised nation, it is
with an effort we realise how
few He addressed in His life-
time, how narrow were the
borders of His ministry. His
Cross has already conquered the West; it is laying claim to
the Eaot: Jesus' own farthest journey was to the frontiers of
Tyre and Sidon, which He would not pass. Daily millions
call upon His name and study His Word, bn* He was Him-
self known only as a Galile: n teacher of doubtful reputation,
and His perfeft sayings were given to a handful of peasants
in a room or on a highway. The most acute intellefts of
eighteen centuries have been studying His words and set-
ting them in the light of their best learning, but Jesus Him-
self had never attended the schools of Jerusalem, and was
looked upon as an uneaucated person. His spirit has created the
'etters and art of modern times, but He never possessed a
book, and never had seen a picture. Without books, without
learning, with no associates but fishermen and tax-gatherers,
wahin the frontiers of a single province and the most

[I3S]

' 1

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

i^t:nar;:::r "^^' ^^^"^ ^"^"^^ "^^ ""•"«• -^ ^^^^

Had Jesus been only a Jewish prophet, necessarily confined to

nc Th T ' ''"' ' '" "' "'^ '"^^^^'g^' '•'^'= "- forerun-
ner. John Baptm. one could understand at once why He never

crowed the borders of His ov.n people, nor .ade His ven urc
in the greater world. But one wonders sometimes why a
prophet- the most unfettered in His teaching, and the mos
universal m H.s sympathies- afte. He had mfde proof of H
po" -r. and after He had been refused by His people, did no
go . .th to the Gentiles, as St. Paul was to do aftet^ards Jth
Jesus own sand.on. and with high success. And one specu-
Ht "m Ti ^'"'^ ^''PP""' ''J"- '^^d Himself carried

In "I ".""r'^°" '^' intelligence and generosity of

the pagans who^ m Jewry, had never despised or bned Him

IniinrGenn '° V -"^ '" "" °"" '^"'^^ -'^ therein un:

willmg Gentiles were their servants. Would not the Gentiles
in their own cuies. have given Him the only kingdom He'
desired, the homage of human souls? And why. whh so ex!
cellent a promise, dm He give the Gentues no opportunity of
acknowledging Him King of Truth? ^

It is evident that from the beginning of His work His life plan
was settled in Jesus' mind, and that it was of its very essence
to confine Himself to the Holy Land. Although He mLHeed
go through Samana on His journeys between Galilee and Jeru^.
salem. He only once had any intercourse with this mongrel
people and in their experimental mission His disciples were

the near neighbourhood of imposing Gentile cities, it is never

stream of Gentile life ran past Him in Galilee. He stood apart.
He had a good reason for His course of adtion. It was by this

[136] ^

JESUS AM) THE NATIONS

isolation from the greater world, and this devotion to His own
people. He could best accomplish His task. For, according to
Jesus" mind. He had not co le 'o evangelise the world, but
to provide that Gospel which His apostles would preach, to
train them in His thought, and methods, to illustrate His teach-
ing by His example, and to seal and verify it by His ceath.
Within Jewry, as in a nursery, the seed was to be grown which
afterwards would be scattered broadcast in the fields of th*^
world, and at Jerusalem was Jesus' cross to be the gate of life
to the whole race.

None can study Jesus' life without being convinced that, if He
chose, for certain reasons, to remain within Palestine, His

religion could not be so confined. It was Jewish in origin

that was a iiistorical development: it was humane in spirit
—that was its very glory. His first disciples might be Jews,
the disciples to follow must be Gentiles. There are forms of
vegetation v/hich belong inevitably to certain zones: they
would die elsewhere. But the mind is .*Vce, and Jesus' religion,
in its spirituality, freshness, force, and unconquerable freedom,
was the very mind of God. What a contrast to the Jewish faith
and worsUp with its temple, i.: feasts, its rites, its sacrifices,
its traditions, its bigotries, its cxciusiveness. Of all that ritual,
pedantry, provincialism, and formalism Jesus adopted not opc
shred. Infead of the temple of stone and gold the heart was to
be God's dwelling place; inst-ad of the sacrifices of fed beasts,
was to be the surrender of tht life to God ; instcid oi innumer-
able rites, was to be the one conmnr iment of Love. Jesus
commanded no holy day, no priest, no rites, except two beauti-
ful signs. Our Mar ter seiz-jd the spiritual clement which under-
lies all religions, and rais d it to th.; highest power. What He
asked could be performeii in all lands; what He taught was
the answer to the instindt in ev ry breast. His Gospel was
raised beyond the limits of ci.-eds and customs; it might

[137]

I-

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

Kc^dajcd from Jewry; it w« coeval with, coterminous with.

Jesus UimscU; while He moved in so narrow and uncongenial
a place, yet looked abroad and had great visions. If He did

«h.p. He a^umed from the beginning that His new sociecy
was not to be a Jewish se«. a new Samaritan schism. He had
vast amb.t,o:. and foresaw splendid triumphs. So early as His

world wh.ch H.S Father loved, and for which He was to
die. Unto he Samaritan woman He spoke of the day at hand
when people would be confined neither to this Church or that

Nazareth He glor.es m the fad that the Divine Mercy had
•n the ancent t.me. rested on pagans, and that He had come'
not on a national and ecclesiastical, but on a human errand. If
H s W„rd be as seed which is going to be sown, then the field
s to be the world; and if His Kingdom was at the beginning
o be as a mustard seed, in the end it would be a tree in which
the birds of the air would take refuge. When the invited guests,
near and privileged neighbours, despised the fear^ then the
King s messengers would go out into the highway. ..„d hedges
and find a company; and Jesus saw them .omin.^ from the
East and the West, and the North and the South.'and sitt ng
down with Abraham. Isaac, and Jacob in His Kingdom. Hi!
last discourses on the eve of crucifixion have the universal note,
and after the resurredtion He commanded that His Gospel
hould be preached to every creature. If Jesus did not go to
the Gentiles. He had the nations in His heart; and if His
centre was Palestine. His horizon was the world
It were a mista^e. however, to assume that because the Master
did not vo abroad like His apostles, nor throw Himself into
Gentile society, that He had no personal contad with the

[«38]

JESUS AND THE N TIONS

natiom. for He met on as many interesting occasion., with
the three chief typ«. of the outer world: with the Barbarian,
the Roman, and the Greek; and three tim- lUs heart was
hlled with hope and joy. It happened that after .n en-
counter with certain Pharisees, who had come down from
Jerusalem to harass and entrap Him. f .s. wearied with their
hypocrisy and the heartless formality ut His own people, left
Galilee and came to the frontit s of Tyre and Sidon. His fame
had penetrated to the pagan inhabitants and reached the ears
of a woman who was a cl " 1 of nature, just as the Jews with
their traditions were children of custom. She belonged to the
original Canaanite stock, which, in spite of all early attempts
at extirpation, remained in the land and were the aboriginal
race. She would have no religion and very little civilisation;
in her humanity would be reduced to ■: elements— half a
dozen passions, and the one which gover, her at the moment
was love. She was a mother, as is suggested by her intensity,
with an only child, and. as is suggested by her loneliness, a
widow, and her .lughter was the saddest of all sufferers Sis
child, in whom her affedtions were bound up, and to save w n
from pain she would have laid down her life, was sick, nc. m
body but in mind. There be many parents who would rather
see a child dead than insane, and this miserable child was a
maniac. The mother heaid of Jesus' miracles of mercy her
ears were quick to catch any rumour of hope for her child' She
set out to find the Master, Who placed Himself within her
reach; His life was full of arranged accidents. She inquired
carefully how this Healer ought to be addressed ; He was not
particular, if so be there was a break in the voice. She described
her child's state with words which might move a heart of
stone— "my daughter . . . grievously vexed with a devil "
Was not that eloquence? And she cast that tormented creature
on the compassion of Jesus. It was an outburst of that love and

['39]

s'. ^'

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

mast which underlie all religions and all civilisations, and one
had expcded an immediate response from Jesus. With Him
faith as a grain of mustard seed was enough, and a mother's
petition was law ; but this mother Jesus seemed to treat hardly
There were those He went out to welcome: this suppliant He
seemed to repel; but His reason was not a reflexion but an
honour. He saw. indeed, that her capacity for faith was im-
mense, since love was feeding the fire, and He would fan it
into flame, that the world might know how a pagan could
believe. So He put her faith to three trials, rising if severity
and the first w.s silence. She prayed with all her might- He
gave no sign that He had heard. She remembered a certain
poor, distorted face, and she would not be silent. Next He
allowed His disciples to discourage her. as they would have
driven many from the Master. "Send her away." they said-
she IS troublesome with her cries." Fastidious men, but they
had not heard a maniac's cry. She had. and neither John nor
Peter must come between her and Jesus. Persistent woman
whom no disciple could discourage, who even believed that'
the disciplts were no index to the Master, and who dared to
hope that the Master might grant what the disciples refused.
So the faith of this Canaanite grew the stronger through re-
pulses and invited harder trials. Jesus Himself now took this
irrepressible niother in hand and did what He could to daunt
her soul. He had not much praftice in repelling suppliants:
His experience has been inviting and drawing; but He makes
a brave show. For the first time He opens His mouth to this
stranger from Tyre, and for the moment He speaks with
Jewish contempt. " It is not meet to take the children's bread
and to cast it unto dogs." Strange to hear such words from the
Masters lips- that He should call any one a dog, and that
one an agonised mother' Be sure that if she had been a weak-
ling He had heard the slightest whisper, and would have an-

[140]

JESUS WALKING ON THE WATER

And in the fourth watch of the night, Jesus went unto them,
walking on the sea.— Matthew XIV. 25.

.!•a•>ri^ ,,,rii; ?fi-j7; ^.„i.j] i^„„, . ,■. , , .

i . *■

JESUS AND THE NATIONS

swered her prayer while it was still on her lips. But this
Gentile, who knew no creeds, was rich in faith : in her breast
was a heart which heeded neither scorn nor rebuke. Her
woman's wit was sharp that day, and seized the one advantage
Jesus had afforded. Dog He had called her; then dog she would
be: only she must have a dog's place and privileges. "When
the family is gone and the room is empty, the houseless out-
cast of the streets may creep through the open door ; when
the children have had their plentiful meal, the starving creature
may take the morsels they have cast away. Give me, Lord, the
dog's portion, for the very refuse of this high table will be
enough for me." Against such ingenious and pathetic pleading
there was left no power of resistance in Jesus. Jesus could not
be conquered by the sophistry of Pharisees, nor by the scourg-
ing of Roman soldiers, but once He was overcome and help-
less, convidled out of Hiy (,wn mouth and forced to surrender.
The vidlor, who plucked the laurels from the very heart of
Jesus, was not a scholar nor a saint, only a heathen woman,
strong in her sorrow and her love. Jesus had no reserve in His
submission : He made no secret of His satisfadlion. " Woman,"
He said with admiration, " great is thy faith" ; and the afRidled
mother, type of those who sit in darkness and in the shadow
of death, went home rejoicing, for Jesus had fulfilled her
heart's desire.

Jesus' second Gentile was of another kind. No ignorant and de-
spised provincial, but a member of the imperial race which had
given law and government to the world. All that the Canaanite
knew was only the creed of nature — that if there be such sorrow
as hers in the world, there must be some one to help. But the
Roman centurion of Capernaum had come to understand that
there must be an order in this universe with wills and forces,
working in obedience and subordination ; and that if any one
should reach the ear of Csesar, he could have his request. He

[«4i]

II: i'^

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

the Jewish religion as superior to ht .T ^""""^^ ^o

to think of Jesus as oneTl . f l °'^"' '"'^ '^'^ ^*^ '^"'"^

spiritual ^oL:v^ri:\x:^:::;:^^)-^-^ of t^e

fever which was the curse of thTl , '''" "■"''''"^'

danger of death, this^^ nf a 'Z, ;: ^^^^^^ ^ ^."

>o his scrvane bv th. li,. „f <■ -.ur ">'<"". who was bound

.hough, hilif of, ^;'t """" »"■• """y p«'ib. b.-

had sen, his »S,rR„:j" ""'' "'"'j' '"'''"'Y i-V he
»o„ld lay his' .,1", : Jer/eeT Hr";;' ''"7f '*' "'
.o con,e ,0 his ^.^e. IZ^^J^!, 1:'-.;^^

t:dT:,:,h:.rrr;dt'"'' 'r »"' "'^^'-»

o^ce. pleaded. .• J'„;':;:L^. :,-t ;'°"^>'„'P-V' .his

able and intelligent was this faith .n K . '^'°""

dtes-':7r;rr""^-^^^^^^^

doxe of His hfe to be amazed both at the unbelief of Hi/
people, and af fJi#. fowu r l ^ "'^ """euer ot His own

nT:'ii:ti^-^-=:^=-ef.t;t
i^:?a'd'ir::hf*H' Trv-^' ""« ' >™-

had accepted ,h J^th 'fii,h 17 °'°"'" """

rusalem. and .hey ctT ed thh ,K "P '"""-hip a, Je-

Ae intelieanal LZ^'jt^lJ^T^f "'" ""«'°"
vironmen,. for the word 0,^." he New T "'*'" ?' '""

ho.c. When ^ii^r:^IX- ^---:-

[«42]

JESUS AND THE NATIONS

the vanguard of an army. The Gentile world, which loved
knowledge and philosophy and culture and ■-cauty, had sent
an embassy to do homage; that world whose strength was
sapped through luxury and pride and needed the salvation of
sacrifice, wr s perishing for dearth of the Cross. The very sight
of these Greeks filled the Master with hope and joy.The shadow
of His approaching death had fallen on His soul, and He had
been cast down. As a corn of wheat is flung into the ground
this young life of His, with all its richness and power, was, as
it seemed, to perish; but as a corn of wheat appeareth again
in spring and changeth into a hundredfold, so would He live
again. He had spoken and worked in G?lilee and had been de-
feated: His hope and His consolation were at hand. Let His
enemies have their way: let Him be raised on a cross: behold.
His defeat was going to be His vidlory. Already the sun had
begun to shine upon T-s Kingdom, and the Gentiles to come
to the brightness of His rising.

[143]

1 ■;

ChapterXVI: Jesus and the Proletariat

T ought to be frankly admitted
that a few cf the ruling class in
Jesus' day werefri:ndly to the
Master : two of the Supr»me
Council, for instanre, gave
Him honourable burial. And it
must be sadly admitted that thf
people, carried away at the end
by a spirit of false patriotism,
and misled by their rulers, clam-
oured for His crucifixion. With
those qualifications it remains that Jesus did not associate, except
on rare occasions, with the people who were rich and lived at
ease, and held offices and bore authority, and that on their part
this privileged order regarded the Master with suspicion and
dislike. And it is an obvious and instructive fad that Jesus lived
and moved and worked among the men who are poor, and
toil hard, and have no place, and are ordered about, and that
they regarded Him as one of themselves, and put their trust
in Him. They crowded synagogues to hear Him; they fol-
lowed Him into desert places; they brought Him their chil-
dren to bless and their sick to heal; they called Him by the
name dcrest unto the people. Son of David; they encompassed
Him with admiration ; they were openly astonished at the won-
derful things He said and did; they followed Him with en-
thusiasm, strewing their garments on the way, and shouting

[I4S]

THE LIFE OF THE M/ .ER

Ho«anna! In spite of the lamentable tragedy of Calvary, and
the perplexity of the people with Jesus' spiritual dodlrine,
through all His public life as He moves along the v,ays of
Galilee, the working folk, men and women, with their little
ones, press on Him from every side, and escort Him, so that
we see Him ever surrounded by honest, simple faces, and hear
Him applauded in the speech of those who have known noth-
ing of the schools. Whatever may be ihe ca, e now, Jesus had
the heart of the proletariat in Galilee.

When one inquires the reason why Jesus had more to say with
the people than the priests of their faith, and more even than
the leaders of patriot, m, it is evident that the answer lies
largely in Himself. If this Man, Who invited the people to
come unto Him, and believe in Him, Who showed such quick
sympathy with them in their straits and sufferings, wt s really
indifferent to them — merely an eloquent orator or a sentimen-
tal friend — then He had been like certain in other ages, who
have traded »' philanthropy and exploited democracy for their
own purposes, and His end would have been theirs. He might
have htrl - brief day of popularity, and then in less than three
years He would have been found out and cast out of the people's
heart with hatred. Or if He had been cunning enough and
showy enough to keep up the histrionic delusion on to the
final tragedy, and die a stage martyr for the people, while He
was simply a selfish man, whom it suited to side with the ple-
beians rather than with the patricians, then the readers of His
Life would have detedted the false note, and classed Jesus with
the worst of traitors, who have betrayed not kings or confeder-
acies, but the fond, credulous people. Of all who have served
the people, Jesus offered the most convincing and unreserved
pledges of sincerity, pledges which all the friends of the people
cannot give, but which, if they can be afforded, are final.
One was His birth ; for it is a fad of profound significance,

[146]

JESUS AND THE PROLETARIAT

never to be belittled, that our Master did not come of the
priestly or learned caste, nor was He •' - son of a capitalist or
rich man. Whatever may be made by loyal disciples of His re-
mote descent from David — and kings' cousins of the thou-
sandth degree can be found in many places — He was really
the son of a peasant girl, and in His veins ran the blood of
working people. His childhood was spent in the humblest of
houses — of one, or at the most two rooms. Before Him lay
from the beginning the necessity of manual labour. He was
accustomed to the self-denials, privations, calculations, and hu-
miliations of a toiler's life. Each cla.,o in human society is to
some degree a caste, with its own hindrances, sorrows, ideals,
freemasonry. It is not possible for a man reared in a palace to
understand the life of the cottage; it will always be to him a
closed jccret. When one of the better -off classes desires to help
the people, he must first of all cleanse himself from all sorts
of false ideas about them which he has inherited, marvellous
romances of an unknown country which have crystallised into
history, and then he must set himself to understand the people
with the aid of blue-books and inquisitorial visits, as if the
people were a poor, helpless, unconscious body laid on a table
for strangers to handle and anatomise as they pleased. Jesus had
not to study this working life; He had only to remember it,
for He had lived within the circle. It was not His discovery,
it was His experience.

It would be misleading, however, to lay too much stress on the
mere circumstance of birth, for it does not close the question.
Men of noble blood have often been the true friends and faith-
ful servants of the people: witness Shaftesbury and Tolstoi. Men
have sprung from their loins and have been their task-masters :
witness many a lowly-born capitalist and sweater. Jesus gave its
natural effeft to His birth, and accepted its responsibility. By
His own will and deliberate aft He cast in His lot with the

[«47]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

people, and in their cause wa« faithful unto death. Had thU
not been His mind. He might have escaped ihame and suffer-
ing. He could have gone apart and become a Jewish monk;
then had He lived unmolested and di«:d unnoticed. Or He
might have come to terms with the relii^ious classes, the
Pharisaic bourgeoisie, and He would havt ived a chief seat
'n the synagogue; or He mipht have obtained a place with
the Herodian court party. Because He would not seek favour
with the ruling classes, and because He would take the side
of the people against their oppressors, He was persf • uted and
l.jnted to death.

It has also sometimes happened that a leader has undertaken
the people's cause with all his heart who has been isolated
from the people's life, but Jesus added sympathy to identity.
He cannot speak without revealing His heart, and showing
that He thought and felt with the labouring and heavily laden.
His parables move, as a rule, in a circle of humble life, where
a woman's dowry has been only ten pieces of silver, where the
housemother bakes with three measures of meal, where the
householder in a sudden emergency of hospitality begs bread
of h - neighbour, where the farmer toils with the bare g Dund
of the hillside, where the labourers stand all day in the mar-
ket place waiting to be hired, and a beggar lies at the rich
man's door. When there are exceptions, anc* Tcsus introduces
us to palaces and great men's houses, it is w !- the mind of
one coming from the outside. He describes a feast, but it is
given -o the poor; and an invitation, but it is sent to the high-
ways and hedges. He is ever enforcing the duty of generosity
to the poor, and He promises great rewards to such as desd
kindly with them, declaring that whatsoever may be done to
the poor has been done to Him. And He bitterly resents the
supercilious and inhuman attitude of the Pharisees, who de-
spised the people because they did not kno-v theology, who

[148]

JESUS AND THE PROLETARIAT

loaded them with heavy religioui burdens, who cloaed against
them the gate of (Jod'H kingdom, who left ihem as sheep
without a shepherd. Jesus' discourses are not those of an advo-
cate pleading with skill and convidion for the people — they
are charged with personal indignation and a sense of injury,
for the wrongs are His, and He also is despised.
Another pledge Jesus has given of His supreme claim to be
the Guide and Saviour of the proletariat is the service He has
rendered. For the Master did far more for the people than de-
fend them against the annoyance of Pharisees and insist upon
the duty of almsgiving: He put strength into the hearts of the
people and made them men. What Moses did for the rabble
of broken-spirited slaves he led out of Egypt, Jesus has wrought
frr the masses of the modern world. When He began His
work, the people were ignorant, over-worked, down-trodden,
voiceless, helpless, hopeless, in every civilised country of the
empire. His words. His example. His Spirit, fermenting like
leaven from generation to generation, have filled their minds
with new ideas of manhood, with an increasing self-rcspeft,
with impatience of tyranny, with a passionate love of l.bcrty.
It was not thfc innumerable crowd of demagogues ; some "er-
haps sincere — some evidently insincere — who imaginci' the
idea cf brotherhood, and taught it as a principle of life to the
people.

Our Master first dared to call men sons of God, with the
rights and duties of sonship, and to unite the race, without dis-
tinction of classes, as one family ; and it was He who opened the
gate of the kingdom of God to the most miserable and abjedl,
and bade them enter in to claim their heritage. His imagina-
tion piftured to minds dulled by toil and oppression the Land
of Promise and His spirit has sustained the millions at the
base of society through all the struggles and weariness of the
long wilderness journey. The people are not now, in any

[149]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

Christian land, slaves; they are already the rulers, and the in-
fluence which has changed the face of society is the teaching
of the Master. Many have prated of Equality, He has made
Humanity; many boast of the rights of the people. He has
created the democracy.

The very sight of a multitude of working people profoundly
affedted the Master, as one believes it touches Him now upon
His Throne; and once, facing such an audience. He gave His
great message to the proletariat. Before Him the honest coun-
try folk were seated amid the signs of the Divine mercy,
with the pasture lilies around them and over their heads the
blue of their Father's heaven. A stranger had been struck with
the piduresque scene: the green grass, the many-coloured gar-
ments of the people, the quiet lake, the little towns upon the
lake shore. What afFefted the heart of the Master that day
was the silent and unnoticed tragedy of labour— the men
whose hands were callous with hauling ropes, and the women
whose faces were prematurely wrinkled with care. He knew
the long drudgery of their lives, from morning to night, from
the beginning of the year to the end ; their scanty wages, when
they got anything; the bareness of their homes. He had gone
with them to the synagogues and heard on what poor fare their
souls were fed for the travail of the week. Jesus was suddenly
overcome by an emotion of pity: He could not resist the un-
conscious appeal of monotonous labour and grinding care. A
moment ago He had been reproaching Chorazin and Beth-
saida and Capernaum for their unbelief with woe upon woe,
but His tone changes and softens. Was not their lot hard
enough without His just reproaches? Did they not suffer
enough without His farewell being condemnation ? His heart
goes out to His brethren of toil in a burst of grace and mercy.
It is no longer woe, but now, "Come unto Me, all ye that la-
bour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." From

[150]

|i I

JESUS AND THE PROLETARIAT

"woe" to "come" — it was the inconsistency of compassion :
it was the confession of fellowship.

Jesus flung a wide net when He addressed the weary ; He held
out a strong allurement when He ofi^ered rest. Rest is one of
the dozen comforting and fascinating words of human speech;
it is undodtrinal, practical, comprehensive, satisfying; it falls on
the ear like thi- sound of a ballad floating out from some lighted
home as the homeless vagrant goes down the street. The word
has two renderings — one secular and one spiritual. It may, of
course, be taken as a symbol for an easy environinent — for
shorter hours of labour, better wages for work, healthier houses
to live in, easier access to knowledge, more brightness in life.
This is not Jesus' reading, but it is not a programme Jesus
would despise or that His disciples have any cause to belittle.
The social demands of the proletariat, so far as they are within
the bounds of justice and do not infringe on the rights of others,
ought to receive the hearty support of those who have leisurely
lives and luxurious homes. There are houses in every country
wherein no man should be obliged to live; hours during which
no man should need to labour. And every wise relief to the
physical hardship of life must have the approval oi our
Master.

Jesus, however, used the word rest with reference, not to a
man's circumstances, but to his state of soul. His advice through
all His ministry was that a man should begin his eflx)rt after a
happier life within rather than without. Let him first put him-
self right, and then attack circumstances. If any one considers
this life to be nothing but a bondage and an injustice, without
any meaning, and without any end, then he is certain to grow
bitter and discontented. If he can understand that its hardness
— even its very wrongs — may be the discipline of character,
then he will have peace. There are two ways of wearing the
same yoke and carrying the same burden : either with pride, and

""^'"■"^-s^iSSivStr^'l^ '

■i f

!■ i

"))

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

toilers of the day. been a Dives, clothed in purple Td fine
hnen exhorting the poor to contentment with'their lot'then
H had been guilty of can, and His audience had been ng y

;^fea.dchara.erofJesusw..;th;j::::^rS^
ment. No one ,n that crowd had worked harder or had fewer

wl sotr f' ''""^-' ^'' ' P^"""- -d homeless Z,

soul-a man hvmg m the very peace of God offered the secret

thiMT'- " "„"'' " "" P"^°"^"^y' — <=nds Jesus to
the people, smce He never flattered or cajoled them since He
never hnbed or deceived them. He alwiys dealt T;"!; a"
truly wuh the people. How easy had it been for Him o offer
them material goods and to intoxicate them with promises of
plenty. Once, in an hour of compassion. He did feed a mu tl
de w.th bread and afterwards He spoke of His kindnesTwih
regret for the foolish people, who are ever apt to be carr ed
away by largesse, followed Him whithersoevef He wen and
would have made Him a "bread-king." Our Mastrhad ^o
private ends to serve ; He was faithful' o tell h^^peo ,e the"
faults, and to exhort them unto spiritual ambitions.'and on th
account alone He ought to have their ear. His counsel w
also as wise as it was honest. What good will come from cln

tteyr riTand'^'^^ °" ''"t ^'° ^^" "^ ^^^^^ ^-"e
stru^ion. On the other hand, let one learn to govern himself.

[152]

JESUS AND THE PROLETARIAT

and he will not fail of His Kingdom. No power on earth can
deny their rights or keep in bondage men who have fought
the battle with their own souls, who are clean-living, temper-
ate, intelligent, industrious, with clever hands on their bodies,
and the fear of God in their hearts.

When Jesus exhorted the proletariat to humility — the meek
and lowly heart — He gave advice which was of use then, but
whose value grows with every age, as the centre of power is
steadily shifting from the kings to the people. There may be
some f^ rp struggles before the people finally mount the throne,
and do their will in the world, but their coronation is not far
off. It will be an enormous responsibility for them when it
comes, and a keen anxiety for every nation. For the first time
in the history of modern times there will be an absolute mon-
arch with none to adjust the balance of power. Hitherto, if a
king were tyrannical, he could be checked by his nobles; if the
nobles made laws in their own interest, they could be brought
to their senses by the middle class; if the capitalists did not
do fairly, the working class could make them mend their ways.
But who is to corredl, moderate, guide the proletariat? If they
should be intoxicated with power, and have no regard To;- any
but themselves and their own interests, then the little linger
of the people will be heavier on the land than the hand of the
Stuart kings or the Bourbons. Many cheish the belief that
the people will use their great opportunity well, with discre-
tion and patriotism, in the fear of God and the love of man,
and our ground for this hope is the Spirit of Jesus. Without
humility democracy can only end in injustice and confusion.
Without the influence of Jesus there can be nothing durable
or fruitful in democracy. If in the day of their power the people
should cast off His yoke, Who has redeemed and led them all
these years, it were a lamentable catastrophe, but human ingrati-
tude and foolishness cannot reach this height. Though in Jeru-

[153]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

Mlem the people were for the moment deceived, and sent their
Saviour to Calvary, they will not again rejedl Him Who on
the Cross laid down His life for them, and now for ever from
His throne invites them, and offers them the yoke which is
easy, and the burden which is light.

['54]

Chapter XVII : The Apologia of Jesus

m^^^JBm

[■':<9^~-'7.i

uuTGIMnil^H

T is among the surprises which
give a relish to history that one
age not only reverses the ver-
didt of another, but that the
by-word of one generation be-
comes the glory of the centuries
which follow. The opportun-
ist statesmen of his day despised
Isaiah of Jerusalem for his
Utopian dreams, but the ideal
righteousness of the Hebrew
prophet has taken hold of the modern conscience. The apostles
of Jesus were considered in their own time dangerous men and
disturbers of the peace, but it is now evident that they were
the saviours of society and the builders of civilisation. The Eng-
lish ruling class looked on the early Puritans as impious and
rebellious persons, but now every one will admit that they laid
the foundations of political and religious liberty; and while those
noble men who contended for the abolition of slavery, have won
a high place in the roll of Christian service, they were counted
by their contemporaries little better than anarchists. Our Master
is another instance of the reversal of judgment on an appeal to
posterity. Jesus was, no doubt, persecuted in His public life for
various reasons, because He was indifferent to dogma, because
He despised ritual, because He would not come to terms with
religious society, because He did not keep the Sabbath after the

[•55]

)

f ^A

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER
Jewish way Perhaps, however, the chief offence of Jesus was
a habu and friendship which His critics could ne.ther nd"
stand nor endure. He not only received unfortunate nddi'
reputab^ people and gave the. welcome, but He Lted t

His anra^tf " "'' '" "'^'/^°" '"•"'■^'''^^' ^^ ^^at has been
Has attradhon since was Jesus' reproach then_that He was
the Friend of sinners. ^*

vrdtrLTt h""^ '"'°'"'"' '*"' uncharitable than the indi-
vidual but It has always retained the right of exclusion .nA
according to the idea of the day. has created its ou aTw
umes they are saints who are sent into the wilderne J L ch J
goodness, sometimes they are heretics who are ostracised fo
their error, sometimes they are politicians who are dr' ven ou
for their law essne.. About the year 30 society in Judea ^a
in ense y eccles astical and patriotic, and the kind of offfnde

'defwUh Z ----dment. or if any one had taken
sides with . foreigner, those two people were put under the

ZlZ:':T' ':'' ^^P^^^'^ S,at if a w'omantu d
morality openly by making vice a profession, or a man insulted
his nation by colledling Roman taxes, that the inlgn Zn of
society should break on their heads. This woman has eve been
as one bbsted for the sins of humanity; and though i be .0"
always the tax-gatherer, there is ever some trade to whom no

::::rdthrhi:" ^^^^-- ^^^ pa-s weret:pr

ttT"' n '"""1' °^-^""^ ^"'^ *^^* "^^'^^ PJ^-i-es towards
tho^e socal lepers there was a contrast so sharp that Jesus con
dua must have excited criticism, and may very we 1 h v been"
uZZTt "^ ^^ -^^ r' ^- V-- with Levi

house tl; H^canT '" t'^'^ °' '""^ ^^P^^^^^ -^"'n
House, that He called upon him to leave his business and be

come one of His followers. And when Matthew, in The" oy of

[iS6] •' ^

THE APOLOGIA OF JESUS

his heart at this admittance into new associations, gave a feast
to his poorer colleagues, Jesus attended ind shared the glad-
ness. If He happened to pass through Jericho ^iid needed hos-
pitality. He passed by the houses of respedlablcs, where He could
have been a guest, and by deliberate choice spent the night be-
neath the roof of Zaccheus, a chief publican. A woman who
was a sinner had been so touched by His Evangel, that she had
crept into a Pharisee's house where He was dining and sought
mercy at His feet, and He, Who was expefted to order her
forth, sent her into peace. In a fit of morality or hypocrisy a
gang of Pharisees once brought to Jesus a miserable taken in
her shame, and they covered the Master also with shame, but
it was her merciless accusers who slunk out of His presence,
and it was to the woman Jesus spake kindly. When He made
up His College of Apostles, He chose one from the publican
class, and among His dearest friends was St. Mary Magdalene.
One need not wonder that good people were perplexed and
found it hard to do justice to Jesus; if they seem to us cen-
sorious, they could make a good case for themselves. A man,
and much more a prophet, could be known, it would be ar-
gued by His company, and it was Jesus' habit to avoid the
Pharisees and to consort with the sinners. He was so deter-
mined indeed in His way, and unabashed, that He would jest
on the subjeft, saying to His indignant censors : " How could
you expedt Me to associate with you? I am a physician, and
a physician goes to the sick, not to the whole. You are perfedtly
well, as you are always telling the world : I can therefore do
you no good. Am I a prophet? Then of course I need not
speak with you ; you are wise and good ; you are everything
which could be desired, and you know everything: I must
work with those abjedls which are out of the way, to do some-
thing for them, to teach them something." With such lambent
humour Jesus used to play round those dull, pompous Phari-

[157]

■ "SI

T' I'-
ll:' »,

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

fro^r^'^t^ "'" '"°'' ''""'*'^ "'•"• "^ ""'ght be a Teacher
from God but ,t was strange in that case that He did not as-
soaate wuh God's people; He might be a good man ; but why
was He so much with smners?

Sometimes His critics were so irritated that they lost all con-
trol of the.r tongues, and allowed themselves the luxury of sheer
slander. " He is a giutton and a wine-bibber." they said in a fit
of spleen not because Jesus went to feasts, but because He
dmed w.th Levi as well as with Simon, and was more at home
wuh the pubhcan than with the Pharisee. Jesus felt these
charges, for ,t .s from His lips we hear them, but He did not
condescend to defend Himself. There are slanders which refute
themselves, and one gathers that His enemies were the angrier
w,th Jesus because they knew, as everybody knew, that He was
stainless. He could stoop so low because His soul was so high • He
could nsk so much because He was so strong. It is a fallac'y to
th.nk that the man who has most compassion on a sinner is
nearest to h.s sin. and that he who arraigns the sinner most mer-
cilessly has the cleanest heart. None ever gave such gracious
welcome to sinners as Jesus, and He changed them into saints •
none made men into irreconcilable sinners like a Pharisee, and
his heart was a sepulchre full of dead men's bones and all un-
cleanness.

When Jesus thought fit to defend, not His charader but His
mission the Master at once lifted the debate to the highest
level of reason and pathos, and ofFered to the Pharisees the
most convincing remonstrance ever addressed to an opponent
h was not His nature to think that everyone who opposed
Him must be dishonest or mad; He supposed that he was
simply mistaken, and it was Jesus' business to corred his mis-
take. You have censured and slandered me." He said in effeft
to he Pharisees: "you think that My life is a huge mistake and
little short of a sin. This is not because you are bad or because

['58]

r. (

THE APOLOGIA OF JESUS

you desire to do Me injustice: it is simply because you and I
have different standpoints. If you saw these sinners with My
eyes, you would adt towards them as I do, for God has given
you a reason and a heart." One day when His critics had been
especially severe, Jesus seized the occasion and made His great
apologia in the fifteenth chapter of St. Luke's Gospel. "This
man," they murmured in genuine horror, "receiveth sinners
and eateth with them." "Yes," Jesus said, "and if you under-
stood, so would you. What man among you?"
The controversy went far deeper than any question of expedi-
ency — whether a prophet should have social relations with
sinners — it turned on two different views of God and man,
and on the scheme of Divine government. According to the
fancy of the Pharisees in all ages the Divine purpose is to se-
lect from the bloom on the human tree a few buds and bring
them to perfedtion, while the rest is left to perish. It is to pro-
duce from the raw material a web of beautiful pattern and colour,
which means that there must be much human waste. As re-
gards the world, one nation, the Jews, were the chosen flower,
and the Gentiles were the blossom trodden under foot. As regards
the Jewish nation itself, the Pharisees were God's finished work
and the publicans were the waste. Within the synagogues, as
in a safe storehouse, were gathered the favourites of God; out-
side lay the huge, unsightly waste-heaps. Nothing can be done
with the refuse; no one wishes to have anything to do with it.
Better for the Church and for society to ignore the sinners, and
if it were possible to put them out of sight. It were a good thing
for religion if they could be collefted together and sunk in the
depths of the sea.

According to Jesus the sinners were certainly waste and very
dangerous stufl^ — for He never belittled or condoned sin — but
it was culpable waste, the result of imperfed: religious processes.
Had the elder brother done his duty, the younger would not

['59]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

have remained so long in the far country or grown so desper-
ate. Mary Magdalene was an offence to the community, but
she had not been so helpless or degraded if Simon had not de-
spaired of her and cast her forth. What Jesus implicitly denied
at every turn — by His teaching and His death — was that there
should or will be any necessary or final waste in humanity. Just
as the progress of science is marked by the recovery or utilisa-
tion of what was thought to be worthless sti ff, so that out of
what is most unsightly is now brought fair « olours, so Jesus
proposed to make lovely saints out of these forsaken sinners.
As a great spiritual inventor Jesus moved among the residuum
of His day, with quick eye and hopeful heart, touching and
handling it with deftness and understanding. Nothing ot God's
human work must be counted worthless; in the end nothing of
it will be flung away. Lost is a word with two meanings: with
the Pharisees it was a description, cast away; with Jesus it was
a prophecy, going to be found.

As "sual, the Master made His appeal to reason, and asked
men's suflr. '.rs because His view was the most fitting. Round
Him gatherv.. a crowd — hearing the Pharisees' criticisms,
waiting for His defence — and He was willing to abide by
their decision. First, He addressed a farmer standing in the
second row — strong, sensible, prejudiced. Last week his flock
of sheep came home one short in the evening — only one lost,
and ninety and nine in the fold — yet this matter-of-faft and
unemotional man scoured the country-side, nor rested till his
tale of sheep was complete. No one laughed at him ; no one
censured him. Why should they ? It was his property ; and was
the Creator of all more careless or more foolish than a Galilean
farmer? Did He not care about His creatures also who were
not sheep but human beings ? Behind the farmer was a young
housewife, and yesterday there had been a little tragedy of do-
mestic life in her home. As she was handling her necklace

[i6o]

bmJ

THE APOLOGIA OF JESUS

of Oliver coins, one dipped from her fingers and rolled out of
sight. A poor little coin, and not worth a thought. Yet it had
its associations, for it had been her mother's, and had been a
part of her dowry. So she rested not till it was found, and her
neighbours, instead of finding fault with her, shared her joy.
And were not His human pieces of silver as precious to God?
While He was speaking His eye already rested with sympathy
on a prominent figure standing out from among His audience,
round whom a very pleasant interest had gathered. He was a
man of substance, a country squire and magistrate. rcspcd>ed and
beloved, and some years ago he had suffered the keenest of
human afflidtions, which is not the 'oss of a son but his disgrace.
His younger son, a headstrong lad, yet lovable, had given him
trouble at home — too much with the gay company at Tiberias
— and then one day he departed to a distant Gentile city, where
he played the fool so shamelessly that the tidings came to his
Galilean home and his father aged visibly. Fellow Pharisees,
like Simon, with whom he used to feast before he lost heart for
feasting, said he was well rid of the wastrel, and that it would
be a good thing if he never returned. His father may have also
passed careless judgment after that fashion on other prodigals,
but circumstances had changed, and he was silent at Simon's
advice. He could not be quite indifferent to the fate of one of
his two sons; and when the young man came back an honest,
humble penitent, and his father, sitting lonely and sad on the
housetop, saw him coming down the familiar road, he forgot
the counsel of Simon and all the other Pharisees and not only
gave him public joyful welcome but celebrated his return with
the feast of a king. As Jesus touched on this happy romance
of .'ove, the faces of hard, suspicious Pharisees softened ; for
they had kinder hearts, if it came to their own flesh and blood,
than they allowed to God, and would not on any account have
done the things they imputed to Him without scruple. It was

['61]

IHK I.IFE OF THE MASTER

as when the *un shines on grey rock after a shower and softeni
the face. Had not (JikI also a father's heart as much as they?
and would not they give Him also the Hberty of joy when
such a one as Mary of Magdala or Matthew the Publican came
home? And the Pharisees did not wish to answer Jesus, because
they were with Him for once mind and heart.
As the Master revealed the idea of God, in Whom is gathered
and perfe(f>rd beyond imagination everything which is reason-
able and beautiful in man, He gave at the same time to the
Pharisees the idea of a sinner, and it was something which
never could have entered into these prosaic, frigid minds. For
the Master was persuaded that a sinner was miserable, and the
very idea was strange and almost diverting to a Pharisee. It
seemed to him that the sinners were entirely happy after their
kind, becajse they were often rich, and had a certain power,
and gave feasts and lived riotously. Perhaps there were days
when the saints regarded the sinners with envy because of "the
roses and raptures of vice." Jesus, Who knew all men, and had
ever His hand on their pulse, saw beneath the pooi .ho\. . f
gaiety and the mask of bravado. He knew the self-reproach
and sated disgust, the bitter remorse and wistful regrets of the
sinner. According to the Master the sinners were hungry and
thirsty, labouring and heavy-laden, vagrants of the highways
and hedges, a set of despairing miserables. They were as a
sheep which, either through wilfulnes.s or foolishness, had
wandered from the flock, and has lost its way, and is far from
the fold, rushing hither and thither, torn and bleeding, palpi-
tating and terrified.

The Master also believed firmly that the sinner was precious ;
and neither had this occurred to a Pharisee. The value of such a
woman as washed Jesus' feet seemed less than nothing: she was
a disgrace and a snare, an ulcer eating into the very vitals of so-
ciety. She was a sad tragedy certainly, with her degraded beauty

[162]'

:ifi

THE APOLCXJlA OF JESUS

and gay attire — a woman ruined, a woman ruining. Wa« the
not also a soul made in the Divine image and intended lor high
ends— a coin which had passed through many unholy hands,
and now lay in the mire. She was still silver, and had on her
the traces of her origin. What a wealth of passionate love and
unreserved devotion was running to waste in this life ! Now
this piece of good money shall be laid out to usury, when the
eyes wherewith she tempted men's hearts to dcstru^ion shall
shed tears on the Master's feet, and the hair wherewith she
ensnared men's lives shall wipe them dry.
And the Master dared to think that every sinner who had gone
away was missed of God. It might seem that amid the multi-
tude of His creatures one less counted for nothing; but if any
Pharisee thought so, he did not know the minuteness and the
breadth of the Divine Love. It had no forgctfulness : it made
no omissions. As a bookman will discover in the dark the ab-
sence of a tiny volume, as a gardener will mark the empty
place where a plant had been once, as a workman looks in
vain for the tool among many hi. hand dcsirrs, so does the
Divine Love have in constant remembrance him who is lost,
and will not rest till he be restored.

The Pharisees made their great mistake because they did not
know God, and Jesus threw Himself in the way of sinners
because He knew the Father. He was indeed the true Elder
Brother, Who saw the sorrow on the Father's face as He
mourned for His lost younger son and could not remain in the
Home; Who went Himself into the far country, nor ceastd
from His search till by His Grace and Passion He had found
His brother and brought him Home rejoicing. This was the
meaning of His strange friendships: this was the secret of His
unconquerable hope.

[163]

-^M

Chapter XVIII: An Arraignment of
the Respedlables

HAT is called the middle class
has usually been regarded as a
creation of modern times, and
certainly no parallel can be
drawn between society in our
day and, say, the Middle Ages,
when a nation was divided be-
tween a handful of nobles and
a multitude of retainers. One
land, however, of the past pre-
sented an almost perfeft anal-
ogy to our social condition — Palestine in the days of our Lord.
There was an aristocracy composed of a priestly caste, with
hereditary rank and vast endowments, and an outer circle of
Herodian courtiers and state officials. With this class Jesus had
no contadt till the end of His life, when the priests were alarmed
for their privileges and protedted themselves by the cross. There
was the proletariat — the vinedressers, shepherds, fishermen,
farmers of Galilee, who lived hardly and suffered many wrongs.
From this class Jesus sprang, and to them He was always loyal.
And there was a class in easy circumstances, of undoubted vir-
tue, good intelligence, and solid influence, which had a stand-
ing feud with the aristocracy, and regarded the people with
frank contempt. This was the middle class, which was the
strength of the nation and had an undeniable claim on respeft,

[i6s]

fM
11

'm'mtSL ':vtA^T

T^siw^a

»'"i

i ■!

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

but covered itself with disgrace because its members rejeded
Jesus with intention and deliberation.

Between the middle class of His day and Jesus there seemed
to be an mevitable and natural antipathy ; and Jesus, who dealt
so kmdiy with the outcasts of society, was invariably severe
with the respedables. He laid Himself out to attradt and win
the prodigal son in the far country, but the corred elder brother
at home He put in the pillory, till we almost forget the vice of
the c e and the virtue of the other. The lawlessness, the impu-
dence, the evil-living, the corruption of the sinners Jesus only
once described in the Prodigal Son. although their manner of
life was to Him utterly loathsome and most tragic; but the
faults of the Pharisees, down to their very foibles. He exposes
with merciless satire. It was indeed, a social paradox that Jesus
should come to confirm the law of Moses, and that the middle
class of His time were the devotees of the Law, and yet that
this very Law should rise as a barrier between the Master and
the middle class, so that Jesus used the Ten Words to condemn
them, and they prosecuted Him as a lawbreaker. That Jesus
should come to declare the kingdom, seen afar ofF by the
prophets, and that the respedables had been waiting, as none
others did. for its coming, and yet that the sinners should an-
swer the invitation of the Master and possess its riches, while
the Pharisees counted themselves unworthy of everlasting life.
The relation between Jesus and this class was strained from
the beginning, with suspicion on their side, with indignation
on His; while now and again there was a hot collision, and at
last a life-and-death wrestle. What ailed Jesus at the respedl-
ables ?

For one thing He could not endure their immovable and con-
tented self-righteousness, and this was the point of the parable,
at once so merciless and so merciful, of the Pharisee and the
publican. It is by a phrase that a man reveals himself, and when

[166]

AN ARRAIGNMENT OF THE RESPECTABLES

the Pharisee stood in the temple of God, the highest and holiest
place he could find, and returned thanks that he was not as
other men, and especially not as this publican, you have Phari-
saism taken in the ail. Surely he might have been satisfied to
rehearse the catalogue of his own virtues without the contrast
of another's vices; but as a dark curtain is hung behind an orator,
to fling his figure into relief, so an inattentive or unappreciative
audience will be most likely to appreciate his spiritual excel-
lence when it is set against a foil. It was the life-long habit of
this respedtable to exhibit himself as the very type and paragon
of religion, and it was his art to keep himself in constant com-
parison with the miserables. Before God and men he desired
to present a study in black and white, and for this end he re-
quired a publican. Each had his role — the Pharisee religion
and the publican irreligion. "God," says this artist in religious
insolence, "I thank Thee that I am not as this publican."
Jesus has been hotter and more solemn ; never has the Master
been keener and 0. 'ere.

What gave the edg us' words was not that this respeft-

able had greatly exaggerated his own virtues or his neighbour's
vices. Let us grant that he did not. His was certainly an oration
rather than a prayer, but it was neither flattery nor slander; it
was very much matter of fad. If any class disgraced the Jewish
nation in the time of Jesus, it was the men who collected the
Roman taxes and traded on the misery of their own flesh and
blood. Their condudt cut the sinews of the national life; their
name was a synonym for avarice and cruelty ; it was not for
nothing that this national traitor was bracketed with the social
residuum and his name made a synonym for sinner. If any single
class was the backbone of the nation, it was the Pharisees, and
nothing the Master said against their bigotry and hypocrisy
denied their social value and solidity. They were, in the main,
men who feared God and loved their nation, and did rightcous-

[167]

ill

ir'^'

THE LIFE or THE MASTER

ness, according to their light; and notwithstanding their exclu-
siveness and arrogance they commanded the resped of the
people. When a Pharisee took credit for his respedtability, he
was speaking from the book; just as when one of themselves
dech.res that our middle class, which begins below the fashion-
able people and stops above the unskilled labourers, is the real
strength of the nation, he is stating a self evident fad.
It was not self-righteous for the Pharisee to hold »hat he was a
more useful member of society than the average publican, for
this was simply a faft; but it was inexcusably self-righteous
for hmi to take credit for this circumstance, as nnder a show of
deference to the Almighty he was doing, since, indeed he had
no credit m the matter. His father had been an orthodox, well-
living, reputable man, and he had been born with the instindls
of religious faith and moral decency in his blood. In his youth
he had been drilled in the law of Moses, and on coming to
manhood he found himself a member of the Brahmin caste,
pledged to the worship of God and to clean living. With the
glare of public opinion on him, and hedged round with the habits
of his class, the Pharisee might become narrow and censorious;
It was hardly possible for him to give the reins to passion or to
outrage social order. He was held in the path of formal right-
eousness, the slave of fortunate c. cumstances. Compare him
with the publican, whom some sudden impulse .f repentance
had brought to the Temple, and who had been dragged for
scenic purposes into the Pharisee's prayer. A publican's son, he
inherited the feelings of an outcast class— a rooted suspicion
ot society and a ullen hatred of social bonds. One of the vivid
recolledions of his childhood was his father coming home to
describe an insult of the Pharisees, and to rail at religion. For
him there was no school, and the children hooted him on the
street till he felt himself on the level of a dog. As a man he
was a pariah, and he came to accept the situation. No good

[168]

AN ARRAIGNMENT OF THE RESPECTABLES

was believed of him, any evil was expedted of him; he was
ostracised by respedahle people, he was shut up with repro-
bates. What could Jewish society expeft of the publica i but
insolence, and rapacity, and shamelessness, and robbery? So they
stood together in the Temple — the man whom society had
made, and the man whom society had ruined — and the Phari-
see, with an amazing audacity, thanked God he was not as this
publican.

The respedtables provoked the Master also by their pettiness,
so that He could not look on them and hold His peace. One
day He had been asked to meat at some chief Pharisee's house,
and as none heeded Him, a poor prophet, amid the ceremoni-
ous reception of distinguished guests, the Master, from his quiet
place, took note of the scene. As each Pharisee came in he
cast a swift, covert glance over the feast chamber to identify
the head of the table and the chief seats, and then he began
a series of strategical movements that he might, either by the
host's invitation or without it, secure a high place for himself.
With His innocent humour, Jesus saw the devices of the local
magnates — how this one boldly appropriated a seat as one of
assured dignity ; how another, in pure unconsciousness, found
himself in a high place; how an unfortunate, who had mis-
managed his affairs, was asked to take a lower place. Some were
much satisfied as they noted their positions, and made pleasant
remarks on the excellent arrangements; some were highly in-
dignant because they haj been undervalued, and they became
disagreeable. For days the former would be complacent; for
months the latter would be out of temper, so serious was social
precedency, so modest was their ambition, so narrow and pal-
try was the mind of a respeftable. Yet these Pharisees, who
mancEuvred for a seat at a dinner-table, were the heads of the
religious community and the ruling class in the distridt. For the
great feast of God's Kingdom — the things which are unseen

[169]

msm

■nPKRW<

fsmr

h' H

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

and eternal, Righteousness, Joy, and Peace— they had no de-
sire; for the jots and tittles of rabbinical doftrine, and the
tithing of mint and cummin, and greetings in the market place
and a certain seat at a feast, they argued, and schemed, and hun-
gered, and thirsted. What an utter want of intelledlual imagi-
nation ! What a blindness of spiritual vision ! What a poverty of
soul ! What an incapacity for passion ! These frigid and cautious
souls, walking on tiptoe through life and ever guarding their
own dignity, swathed in pedantry and soaked in self-conscious-
ness, were very unpromising material for the Master and His
Evangel, which demanded an absolute self-forgetfulness and a
joyful abandonment of faith. Because the miserables had no
self-conceit, and no position, and no dignity; they were so far
opened for the Master's call, and because the respedtables were
tied, hand and foot, by dogmas and notions, by self-impor-
tance and conventionality, they were hindered, and so it came
to pass that the publicans and harlots entered the Kingdom of
God and the children of the Kingdom were cast out.
Perhaps, however, the crowning offence of the rcspedlables in
the eyes of Jesus was their confirmed and impenetrable callous-
ness, and upon one dramatic occasion this gave the Master a
shock of strong indignation. It wis again at a feast, where
Simon, a chief Pharisee, had invited Him to his house— not
for courtesy or hospitality, rather for insolent patronage and
cunning criticism. From the beginning He was made to know
His place— an inferior asked to dinner as an adl of condescen-
sion, who must not expeft the attentions given to other guests
on a social equality with Simon. As each guest arrived his san-
dals were removed by obsequious servants, and his feet washed
with cool refreshing water; as he sat down in his appointed
place his head was anointed with fragrant oil. For the Master
there was neither water nor oil, but the servants, taking their
cue from Simon, allowed Him to pass with a menial's disdain

[170]

^W^

AN ARRAIGNMENT OF THE RESPECTABLES

for the poor. By-and-by attention would be given to the Master
when, after Simon and his guests had feasted, they would, zt
their leisure, put ensnaring questions to Jesus, and gather ma-
terial for persecutions. As it happened that day they were an-
ticipated by one who had not been invited by Simon nor had
come to criticise Jesus, who was ready to repair the negleft of
the servants, and to afford to Jesus a feast sweeter than meat
and drink. When Simon sat at the head of his table fu^l of
polite dislike for the Master, and a woman of the town washed
His feet with her tears, the extremes of society met, and Jesus
marked the inhumanity of Simon, to whom the woman, in her
penitence, was only an objeft of contempt.
Between Simon and the woman a great gulf had been fixed
and Jesus looked from one side to the other. It was no blame
to Simon that he had lived cleanly and honourably; it was a
gain to the community, and Simon received his just reward in
their approbation and his own position. No excuse can be made
for the woman, who was a shame to herself and a curse to the
community. But in Jesus' opinion the severest blame should fall
on Simon for his indifference and hardness, as it appears he
knew the poor wretch who had crept into hie house unbidden
and v^as kneeling amid general scorn at the Master's couch'
Very likely he could have told her history. Was she a Phari-
see's daughter? Very likely he had often met her on the
street, and gathered up his robes lest she should touch them
So far as he condemned vice he was right, for such condemna-
tion IS a safeguard to society and a premium on well doing. But
what had he done for her salvation? Nothing; and when she
was that day tossed upon his inhospitable shore, a piece of hu-
man wreckage, he was disgusted and angry. "This woman,"
he said; " This publican," said the other Pharisees ; " Thy son'"
said the elder brother ; and against this superciliousness Jesis
lifted up His voice. So it came to pass that in the day when

[■/■j

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

the Master visited Simon's house the respeftable at the head
of the table had in him a heart to belittle and condemn Jesus,
and the miserable in her lowly place broke her heart at His
feet.

[172]

Chapter XIX^A Warning to the Rich

T is inevitable that any prophet
who sets himself to regenerate
society shall face the problem
of riches, and various circum-
stances made it very acute for
Jesus. He came Himself of the
working class, and had a keen
sympathy with their life. Pov-
erty in Jesus' day was grinding
and helpless, when wages were
not always paid and judges
could be always bought. His duty led Him into the houses of
rich people which were in painful contrast to the home of His
youth, and He was made to feel in many ways that an invita-
tion to a rich man's hou was an honour to be thankfully and
humbly used. Would it have been wonderful if a certain tone
of moral bitterness and just resentment had crept into Jesus-
speech as He considered how differently Providence had treated
a heartless ingrate like Simon the Pharisee and a faithful saint
like His own mother? Surely if there be any anomaly in prac-
tical affairs, it is that people full of pride and blind to spiritual
beauty should be dowered with goods, while some of the noblest
souls should be harassed by narrow means and petty struggles.J
And at this sight wise men have lost their heads and used wild
words.

No cross providence, however, affeded the sweetness of the

['73]

( ' i'

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

Master's soul or biased theimpartiality of His teaching Jesus'
sayings gave no hint that He ever regretted His own poverty
or that He envied the circumstances of Simon, or that He
thought such persons had been favourably treated by His
Father. What rather strikes one is the constant suggc: timi that
rich men were to be pitied and that their possessions were a
drawback to their life. Jesus moves in and out of the great
houses with a fine detachment and gracious condescension, as
one having a more splendid and lasting heritage. He laments
the slender and sordid ambitions of the rich who have no under-
standing and do not grasp at great things, and it was to Him
a faa full of meaning that the kingdom which was for the most
part rejedcd by the respeftables. as a devout imagination, was
received with great joy in the dwellings of the poor. It is laid
on His heart to speak to the rich as no prophet has done since
not with reproacht ^ d invedlive. as if they had wronged their
brethren and we.e .: ..nsed robbers, but with anxiety, as to per-
sons who, through a misfortune of great possessions, were apt
to make the chief loss of life. As He delivers His message
although sometimes for the sake of courtesy it takes the shape
of a parable, one rich man after another stands out in his place
and can be identified.

The first is given without disguise because he was an acquaint-
ance of Jesus and the figure in a romantic incident. He was
a young man residing somewhere in the country and belonged
to the higher class in society. His father had been wealthy and
the son had succeeded to a large inheritance. Unlike the son of
another squire, who had despised the quiet coun:ry life and had
played the prodigal in a Gentile country, this m,.n had more
respedl for himself and his name. He had other tastes than meat
and drink, and had carried himself with such intelligence and
honour that he was raised to the rank of ruler in the nation
His charader of good principle and solid worth was quickened

['74]

V --.

A WARNING TO THE RICH

by spiritual ideas and unworldly insfi-idts. There was also in him
a hue vein of enthusiasm and a habit ofself-forgetfulncss which
were v^ry taking. Born heir to dangerous advantages and com-
petmg temptations, he was neither a profligate nor a prig but
a well-hving, cultured, high-spirited, reverent gentleman -one
to whom Providence may well give riches, and who may be
rich with safety.

It was certain that this voung ruler would be profoundly in-
terested in Jesus, and in Him the Master had a likely disciple
He would be weary unto death of the religion of the day and
the insmceiity of religious people; he would have an ear quick
to catch the note of reality, and a sense to appreciate the ap-
peals of the new Teacher. It would, of course, matter nothing
to h,m that Jesus was poor, any more than that many of the
Pharisees were rich. It was only a vulgar person like the man of
the barns who would have estimated Jesus by his garments- at
the youns ruler's Jesus would have had water for his feet and
every courtesy. '

From time to time he had heard Jesus, and had been charmed
by the elevation and delicacy of His sentiments. One day as he
" alon^e in his library thinking on the greatest things.' news
..c that Jesus was passing, and might never again return
The enthusiasm which was in the air fired the young ruler
and under a heavenly impulse- that breath from above of
which Jesus spoke-he rushed into the way and knelt in de-
votion at Jesus' feet. "Thou hast the secret of lite. I think, and
I feel, and I work, but I have not yet tasted the fulness of
iving. What must I do to inherit everlasting life?" As Tesus
looked at this man in his nobility, and heard his ingenuous
prayer, the Master's soul went out to him. and He loved the
young ruler.

When Jesus answered that, for him. the entrance into the
larger life of the soul must be poverty, the Master laid down

['75]

iVM

THE LIFE OF IHE MASIEK

a hard condition, and yet one would have expefted it to be
fulfilled. If I'ctcr left his fiiihing-boat, and Matthew hin custom
house at the bidding of Jesus, neither having souls of special
refinement, then this man of finer clay will go out to welcome
the invitation of the Master. This surely is the very man to
follow Jesus, in whom the Master will find another John ; and
when he makes the great icfusal, Jesus cannot conceal His dis-
appointment nor His regret over the subtle power of riches and
their unexpedlcd fascination. For riches are not to be judged
as simply so much gold in a treasure chest, which its owner
can count in his leisure hours. They are, in the hands of such
a one as this young ruler, the means of a cultured life, and one
of the conditions of an assured position. He would be indifferent
to meat and drink, and he would rather despise purple and fine

linen; but he did value the company of his social equals men

of the same habits as himself — and an atmosphere of refinement
and freedom from petty cares. He was asked to reduce himself to
poverty, and to become the companion of fishermen, whose ways
were not his ways, and to wander about the .ountry, who had
lived in a beautiful home; and even although he would fain
have had Jesus for his friend, he shrank from the sacrifice. And
thus a man so hopeful and attradtivc that Jesus loved him, denied
himself the fulness of everlasting life because he was rich.
The second rich man appears in a story, although he is evi-
dently a close study from life, and he is a very unlovely
charader. As one gathers from his increase in wealth and his
coarseness of tone, he has not been the heir to riches and posi-
tion, as was the young ruler, and he had not therefore his fine
instindls and graciousness. His had been the stern, hard struggle
from poverty to affluence — a progress not from knowledge
to knowledge, nor from charadter to charafter, but from barn to
barn. His was not a bright intelledl engaging itself with spir-
itual affairs, but his was the capacity for gathering money,

[176]

■ys/tfm'S£,vr-

A WAKNING TO THE HICH

which seems to be conM«cnt with the coarsest stupidity His
was no ambition to learn the secret of life; his one passion was
to be the richest man in the distri<it. A simple character which
any one may read-this big farmer, and lelf-made man. Rrasp-
.ng at every profit, crushing the weaker merchants in corn
making huge profits out of the needs of the poor, jingling hi^
money .n the hearing of all. and ever bragging how little he
began with, how much he now possessed, how cleverly he had
farmed, bargained, invested, accumulated, till the distri<;t was
weary of him.

The man of the barns did not give any consideration to fcsus
-a penniless fellow who had unsound ideas <,n property and
might ask for money.- but jesus gave some thought to' 'him
The Master catches him in an hour of his success, when he is
swollen and blatant with prosperity, and etches him with the
keenest irony. It has been a very successful harvest that year-
h.s ground has brought forth plentifully ; and. as is usual with hiJ
omnivorous class, he garners all the gain from the soil, and the
sunshine from the shower and the wind of God. as from other
men s labour and other men's brains, as his just and sole pos-
session He IS quite overcome and perplexed by his affluence—
as such men. they tell us. often are-and really does not know
what to do with what he calls "my fruits." As there surely
must Ivavc been some partnership between this self-sufficient
man and God before he could have been so embarrassed with
these fruits, some one might have suggested to this distressed
millionaire a way of escape. Why not make a great feast and
entertain the poor? Why not share "my fruits" with the
labourers who had helped to obtain them? Most likely he had
some poor relations who would not have refused a portion
Plutocrats bewailing the embarrassment of their riches and the
burden laid upon them, do not. however, always welcome
counsels of chanty, and this afflicted man had to solve the

['77j

IM/

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

problem by himself. One day he had a sudden inspiration,
which for weeks, if he had been able, he would have mentioned
as an instance of originality: he would pull down the barns
which were bursting with plenty — he could make sacrifices
on occasion— and ereft larger barns, and therein he would store
"my fruits and my goods," for the sense of his possessions is
growing.

When that is done, he will have a conference with his soul;
and if you be allowed to hear a man and his soul speak together,
you understand the man, Jesus takes us to the door of the room
(or was it a barn .?), and we overhear one of the choicest of con-
versations— that between this kind of rich man and his soul.
It could only by courtesy be called a conversation, as the soul
of such a man has been so brow-beaten and reduced and ignored
that it has nothing to say, and hardly exists.
"Soul," said he — and then it occurs to one how strange he
should, with his fruits and his barns, remember that he has such
a thing as a soul; and next, one wonders what he can have to
speak about with his soul ; but he is not to make any rash excur-
sion into religion — "Soul, thou hast much goods" — wheat,
that is, and barley, and oil, and wines — "laid up" — that is, in

the new barns which are the admiration of the countryside

"for many years" — perhaps ten, not very long as a soul's life
goes, yet every man must speak in the only terms he under-
stands. "Take thine ease" — he is speaking to the spiritual part
of him — "eat" — to his soul — "drink" — his soul — "and
be merry " — his immortal soul. Nothing so scathing, so con-
temptuous, so unanswerable ever fell from the lips of Jesus.
"Fool," said God; for that night the man died, and an heir
emptied the barns, while the soul of the man entered, a friend-
less pauper, into the spiritual world.

The third man of riches is a stronger figure and a more com-
plicated charadler: he has taken his place in history and made

[178]

iration,
itioned
: barns
crifices
d store
iions is

s soul;
jether,
; room
)f con-
is soul,
le soul
jnored

igc he
IS such
ave to
ixcur-
vheat,
: is, in
lide —
I's life
inder-
il part
"and
I con-
Jesus.
1 heir
iend-

com-
made

THE RICH MAN AND LAZARUS
There was a certtin rich man, which was clothed in purple and
fine linen, ... and there was a certain begger named Lazarus, which
was laid at his gate, flill of sores: . . . moreover the dogs came and
licked his sores. — Luke, XVL 19-21.

?iJi

if''i

^ fHAXAl n/A .'CU fDlH tf,)

•' ^^ ■■'^■"■i ■'■'■i«-. --ifl t...>|>,|

ffi

A WARNING TO THE RICH

for himself a name because he has been used to throw into re-
lief the contrast between poverty and riches. He is not a sordid
Ignorant wretch like the man of the barns, nor a student like
the young ruler, but rather stands for the luxury and magnifi-
cence of riches. His house was the casde of the distridt His
feasts were known far and wide; he was a patron of the arts
and had an eye for beautiful things. His days were so occupied
with large affairs, and his evenings with splendid hospitality
that he had no leisure for private charity; but there was in him
a generous heart, and he would have done kindly things if he
had oni V thought. As it was in the greatness of his way he did
not notice the beggar, whose place was by his gate, and who
with others of his kind, depended on the largesse from the rich
man's overflowing table. Without was Lazarus in his sores and
misery, within was Dives in his purple and fine linen, and so
occupied was Dives with his affairs and his feasts that he passed
Lazarus every day without a thought. Amid his easy environ-
ment his imagination had died, and he could not put himself
in his brother's place, nor did the contrast between the two lots
aflfeft his comfort. The after-look and the discipline of remorse
awoke what, unspoiled by riches, had been a kindly, brotherly
heart. In spite of the years of thoughtless luxury and uncon-
scious selfishness the heart of Dives still remained, and in his
hour of sore trouble he bethought himself of his brethren • but
it needed fire to shake this vidWm of prosperity out of self.' and
set him free from the grip of riches and their insidious, deaden-
ing power.

So three men are ruined by riches: one by fastidious refine-
ment, one by coarse greed, one by unrestrained luxury and
Jesus was terrified lest His disciples should share their doom
and declared with emphasis that for a rich man to enter God's
kingdom would be as great a marvel as that a camel should
pass through the eye of a needle.

[179]

■• lUltv. _ -.1;.' ^llU (>(>.;.vi

Chapter XX: With the Children

EVER was gracious teaching
commended by a more win-
some life than in the case of
Jesus, and no feature in His life
is more fascinating than His
love for children. It may be
laid down as a law that every
wholesome and sweet-blooded
person will delight in little
children in exadl proportion
to his goodness, because they
have come so recently from the Father, and show unto us older
tolk the innocence and simplicity of the Eden state. We read
in them the first chapter of our history, before the storm and
stress of hfe begin, and from middle age we regard childhood
with wistful regret. As Jesus was the best of us all. He loved
children most, and the imperative self-denial of His calling
quickened this devotion. Although He loved to describe the
marriage procession and the marriage feast, and fondly touched
on the joy of the bridegroom and his friends, there could be no
marriage joy for Him, and He must be a childless man. While
every man went unto his own house-after some gathering of
the people-He went to the hillside and to His Father; and
while for others there stretched long years packed full of labour
and human fellowship. He ever anticipated the tragedy of the
Cross. So Jesus, lonely, homeless, doomed, turned unto the chil-

[i8i]

I :

i f

H>^

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

drcn, in whom His longing for affedtion was satisfied, in whose
unclouded faces He forgot for the moment the shadow of the
Cross. The children were the consolation of Jesus, whoeverloved
Him and gave Him welcome, who never suspefted or turned
against Him. And He wastheir Proteftor. Who told Hisdisciples
that It were better for a man to have a millstone fastened to his
neck and be cast into the depths of the sea than to offend one
of the children, and \ ho declared that for every child there
was an angel, and that the children's angel, ever saw the face
of the Father.

Apart from the friendship between the children and I;sus the
sympathy of the innocent and the good. Jesus saw inHis little
companions a likeness of His Kingdom. It was His happy mis-
fortune to come with an Evangel, not only so new and so glad
but also so unworldly and undogmatic that it could hardly find
acceptance with the Church of His time. As fesus looked on
the Pharisees, a solid phalanx of fanatics, wedded to tradition
swathed in forms, suspicious of grace, hard of soul, His heart'
^.led; for if this were religion, then there were none to receive
His Evangel. He turned from the Pharis,-.s to the children, and
saw what He desired— the spirit and type of true religion-
here were an open mind, humility of spirit, a simple trust, a
charming fancy, a spring of love. To be religious, what is it?
To believe and live like a Pharisee, answered the Church No
said the Master, to be like a little child; he who hath the child
spirit hath the kingdom of God. It was a shrewd charge, and
meant more than met the eye, when the Pharisees called Jesus
the Friend of Sinners, for it assumed a new idea of God It had
been as searching to have called Him the Friend of Children
for this reproach would have implied a new idea of religion '
There are four child scenes in the Gospels, and the first was in
a market place. After the business of the day was over and the
traders had departed, the open, silent space in the heart of some

[182]

WITH THE CHILDREN

Galilean village passed into the possession of the children, and
in the cool of the day they held their carnival. This evening

they had fallen out over the game to be played. One party

having very likely been defeated in the last— were offended,
and sulked. The others, having gained and being magnanimous,*
were full of courtesy, and would do anything their playmates
wished. Would they have a marriage? A procession is formed,
with the bridegroom leading the bride to her new home, and
the children dance and sing, but the sullen group in the corner
will not move. Ah, they are sad; then let us have a funeral;
and now the procession is with slow step and loud lamenta-
tions, as when the dead are carried to the grave. And still their
friends will not join. How tiresome! The children play in utter
self-unconsciousness, and give no thought to the figure in the
shadow, who has watched the scene with kindly, understand-
ing eye, and will use it with telling effeft as a criticism of
the generation. As the children fulfil the dramatic instinft
which is born in us all, and play their game without guile,
without malice, without private ends, in gaiety of heart, Jesus
sees human nature in its simplicity. They were not perfed;
and if they had been, the children had not been lovable, for then
they had been young Pharisees. They were real and unaffefted.
How good-natured was the one set ! and if the others for a
moment had lost their temper, we know how soon a child's
mood changes. Most likely before the sun went down and the
children left the darkening stage they had made up their quarrel,
and were once more in high fellowship. For children bear nd
grudge, and carry no account of ill-will from day to day; easily
cast down and easily lifted, theirs is unspoiled, natural, uncom-
plicated humanity. Adlors they were that evening, and Jesus
was mightily pleased with their ading, as no doubt, like other
great souls, He was with all the young folk's games; but how
harmless and pleasant was the play ! By-and-by these children

[183]

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THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

would grow up and take their places on a larger stage. Their
openness and teachableness, their gentleness and pliability will
depart, and their fresh young natures will harden into preju-
dices, and hatred, and ambition, and treachery. Jesus had seen
the degeneration, and that is why He turned from the fathers
to the children; why He could rest His mind watching the
a«ors in the market place with human delight, but afterwards
attacked their elders with scathing invedtive— "Woe unto
you, scribes and Pharisees, adlors."

The next incident is an interior, and most lik ;Iy took place
in Peter's house at Capernaum. The Master had been making
one of His journeys in Galilee, and that day had been telling
His disciples of His death with such awe and mystery that
they could neither understand nor question Him, but were
struck with fear. Jesus went on before, thinking of His com-
ing agony, and the Twelve, having nothing else to do, took
up a favourite dispute, who among them should be chief. What
a ghastly irony it was— these twelve full-grown men, who
yesterday were hauling fishes on the sea of Galilee, or receiv-
ing petty taxes, falling out and using hot words about honours
in the kingdom of God, which were not temporal but spir-
itual, and could only be bought with blood! Jesus overheard
the squabble— not the last He would have to settle— and it
served one good purpose, turning His thoughts for the moment
from the Cross; but He waited His turn, Who knew ih- right
moment as He ever said the right word. As soon as they had
entered the house— Jesus' home in Capernaum —Jesa: asked
His company what had been the cause of the dispute by the
way, and instantly a shame-faced silence fell on t'le Twelve.
They had been very keen and eloquent a few moments ago,
but now they were embarrassed for want of words. One looked
at the ceiling, another the floor, a third was interested in
something happening in the street, a fourth made as though

[184]

WITH THE CHILDREN

he would speak but did not, till it fell to the Master to take
speech. With His quick and gentle humour He saw the op-
portunity for one of those rebukes in parable of which He was
St fond, and which He had so often to administer to His fool-
ish pupils. Among the inmates of the house was a boy, Peter's
little lad, we guess, who was one of the Master's fast friends,
and with whom Jesus had many pleasant passages. He came
to welcome his friend home, and Jesus took His playmate on
His knee — the child had a way of flinging his arm around
the Master's neck which scandalised Peter, but which the
Master vastly liked— while round them stood the big, hardy,
weather-beaten men, the boy's father among them. Jesus
looked from the lad to His big children: a word was enough
to expound the pidture. How modest and unassuming, how
free from self-seeking and ambition, is a right-minded child!
— and Jesus' friend was that. He does not argue nor set up his
opinion ; he does not assert nor aggrandise himself. He goes
where he is told, and takes what is given him ; he is accus-
tomed to serve and fulfil other people's wishes. What a kindly,
obliging, obedient little fellow was Peter's boy ! They all knew
him well; for them all he had done some slight service; for
him they all had some caress, as the disciples came out and in
at the Master's lodging. After all, was not this self-forgctful-
nesg and sweet humility greater than pride, and honour, and
striving, and high places? And Jesus declared that he who had
the child's heart possessed the kingdom of God.
The third incident took place in the open, when Jesus had set
His face to go to Jerusalem, and it came on the back of an
argument with His constant enemies, who dogged His steps
in Galilee and followed Him beyond Jordan. With their char-
adleristic taste and their usual desire to ensnare Jesus, they de-
manded His judgment on the Mosaic law of divorce, which
afforded Pharisees material for much discussion. Jesus discours-

[•85]

11;^

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

ing on divorce or Sabbath-breaking or dinner ceremonial
wag very incongruou« ; for if there wa« one 8ubje<tl more alien
to the Master's mind than dogma, it was casuistry. He an-
swered His critics with a tired tone, as one who did not relish
such subjc«s; but afterwards He had to explain Himself to His
disciples, who dwelt upon the subjcd as if the conditions and
circumstances of divorce were a green pasture for the soul. At
this very moment, by an interposition of Provii.cice, Jesus was

relieved, and transported from the region He most disliked

the sins of impurity — to that whi. h He loved most — the fel-
lowship of little children. Who slu did break in on Jesus and
His disciples but a company of women — faithful wives and
pure mothers — bringing the children God had given them
through the mystery of marriage that His Son might bless
them. Our \ orthy and self-important disciples were very in-
dignant t!,at Jesus should be troubled by mothers and children
n r • a tinje. Who were they to intrude on theologians, clear-
•''iT '»P a point in casuistry, with their foolishness and prattle ?
'I he disciples must guard the Master from this incursion ; in-
deed they were often inclined to guard Him from Himself, Who
was only too apt to condescend to children and suchlike simple
folk when He might have been debating with Pharisees. Like
many wiser men, the disciples did not grasp the inwardness of
a spiritual situation, and Jesus turned upon them in open
anger. If there was such a curse i:i the world as lust, it must
be dealt with; but who would think of lust when Love
herself was present? Were not the two glories of the spirit-
ual life Love and Holiness ? und the type of the one was a
mother, of the other, a young child. The mothers, who had
shrunk back with their terrified children, came forward again;
the frown on Jesus' face changes into a smile, and sunshine
lights His eyes. He stretches out His arms, and children
nestle in His bosom. The Master is content, and the children

['86]

fe'S'T.i*.

WITH THK CHILDREN

the Kingdom of

are at home with Him, fur "of such
Heaven."

The Master met for the last time with His faithful friends
in august circumstances, not now in fisherman's house nor in
the open fields, but in the Temple of Jerusalem. He had made
His Mcsianic entry into the capital in meekness and lowli-
ness, while the people cried Hosanna till the streets rang.Then,
as He entered the Temple precindls, and the sound of the
men's voices died away outside, the children within took
up the cry, and for the last time the House of (Jod rang
with the praise of Jesus. They paid the last public homage
Jesus was to receive before His death, and at the same time
they passed the first public censure on His murderers. On
the one side were the priests and Pharisees, now united in
hatred against Jesus, and storming at this Hosanna; and on
the other side the children full of admiration and love for

the Master. Which had spiritual understanding and insight

the rulers or the children ? It was taken for granted that ilay
that it was the rulers, and they demanded that the foolish chil-
dren's mouths should be stopped. Everyone knows to-day that
the children were wiser than the ancients, and Jesus declared
that God had opened their mouths. Between them and their
fathers there was this difference, that they had imagination
because their hearts were still simple, and the old men had
lost theirs because they were proud and worldly. Children are
not the slaves of circumstances; they make circumstances S' rv
them. With a pool of water they have an ocean, with a scrap
of wood a ship, with a handful of pebbles a crew, and then
come distant voyages and romantic adventures. They see what
eye hath not seen, they hear what ear hath not heard. 1 he
rulers saw a Galilean carpenter, poor and unlearned, and they
despised Him; their children saw grace and goodness, and
they loved Him. Before the fathers had begun to cry " Cru-

[•87]

t^^vF

_^i>;..-N.^«?i.iii*^:

SlS^^^

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

cify Him. crucify Him," the children had encompassed him
with Hosannas. and in their judgment the race unites. For
Christianity may be regarded as a creed, with reasoned dog-
mas; or as a worship, with beautiful rites; or as an ethic, with
elevated principles: it is first of all and last of all a sublime
emotion, and he understands our Faith best, and stands highest
in our ranks, who has the child-heart.

[188]

f-L ._

^~v 'JM^»iifm* „MMmUimJ i m

Chapter XXI : The Twelve

URING the early period of
Jesus' ministry He created
much stir among the crowd
which waited on the Baptist,
and among the religious circles
in Jerusalem, in Nazareth and
the highlands of Galilee, in
Capernaum and by the lake
shore. A considerable number
of people became more or less
attached to the Master and ac-
knowledged Him as their teacher, but theirs was a guarded
and uncertain allegiance. They did not recast their life nor
set themselves against the Pharisees, nor commit themselves
to all Jesus' ideas, nor identify themselves with His cause
They were simply His hearers. His admirers. His well-wishers"
His congregation. Some grew into His intimate personal
friends, others turned into His enemies. Jesus set a modest
value on this following; to Him it was simply a field for se-
ledtion. He studied these unfledged disciples. He had private
interviews with them; He formed His idea of their charafter
and weighed their powers. As a builder picking out his chief-
stones, as an explorer collefting his stafl^ as a general choos-
mg his forlorn hope, Jesus moved among this mass of raw
material. His plan was not to colledt a multitude of adherents
whom He could very imperfedtly teach, but to find a few cleft

[189]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

r i><

1:V

!ii

»!'

souls, who would be more even than disciples and ambassadors,
who would be so many separate centres of His thought and
life, so that His society should increase not by addition but by
multiplication. When the Master was sati'.uv.d »hat He had
found the men, He put forth His great deliverance — the Ser-
mon on the Mount, and called the "Twelve Apostles."
When one thinks of the enterprise to be committed to their
hands, and considers the low estate of the Twelve, his feeling
is amazement and disappointment. If the apostles, on whose
capacity will hang the success of the new endeavour, must be
taken from the Jews of the homeland, surely Jesus could have
done better for His kingdom. Were there no men of stand-
ing and education, who had enough faith in Jesus and enough
devotion to religion to undertake this high office? Was the
Master entirely shut up to fishermen ? and would we think it
wise to begin an enterprise of the first order with such leaders
in our day? And in asking those questions one is thinking of
the college of apostles Jesus might have chosen. Why should
He not have called Nicodemus, who was a master of Israel,
and brought so candid a mind one night to Jesus? Surely he
had been a better theologian than those unlearned Galileans.
Beside him might have stood that high-minded and ingenu-
ous young ruler, who could not in the end have refused Jesus,
and that nameless scholar who asked such wise and honest
questions that the Master declared him to be not far from
the Kingdom of God. Jairus, the ruler of the Synagogue,
whose little daughter Jesus raised from the dead, might have
been added, and the college of apostles would have begun with
four theologians, students trained in doftrine and speculation.
And for men of affairs, why not Joseph of Arimathea? — surely
he had been a more faithful treasurer than Judas Iscariot —
and the nobleman of Cana whose son Jesus healed? and
Manaen, Herod's foster-brother, who appears as a Christian

[190]

THE TWELVE

in the Adts, and the good man of Galilee, whom Jesus used
as father in the Parable of the Prodigal Son? Was that far-
seeing master, Gamaliel, quite inaccessible to Jesus, if Jesus
had set Himself to win his allegiance? Was not Saul then a
student in Jerusalem, and might he not have been saved the
years of unbelief and bigotry which he afterwards so bitterly
regretted? And the host of the "Upper Room," and that
gentle soul, Lazarus, who was well-known in Jerusalem ? So
the Master would have had twelve apostles, whom the nation
would have trusted, and whom the council could not have
flouted.

It seems an ideal list ; and then we remember that the situa-
tion, on a smaller scale, has often occurred, and this particu-
lar ideal has always failed. On the one side was the work to
be done, and on the other men to do it as if they had been
created for it. They had a commanding position in society;
they had rich gifts of culture ; they had gracious manners ;
they enjoyed the favour of the people ; they had given pledges
of capacity in other fields. Why should they not do this great
thing in social reform, or in the cause of missions, or in the
charitable service of Christ's Body ? Many of this class are
fi-iendly to the Master and acknowledge the benefits they have
received at His hand. Some are willing to aid His cause with
gifts of money, and to lend it a cautious countenance. But one
thing they will not do — identify themselves with Jesus' king-
dom heartily and unreservedly; and why? Because this would
mean contaft \»";h humble people and unfashionable associa-
tions, because u might entail the polite contempt of critical
and superior people. Those desirable men have not the intel-
leftual and moral courage to take the last step, which is the
pledge of thoroughness and loyalty, and so they are useless for
our Master's purposes. They inay be the chorus of Jesus —
when He succeeds; they cannot be His cdworkers in the

[ 191 ]

I I

I ■

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

struggle. Once for all Jesus put the matter to the test when
He invited the young ruler to leave all and follow Him, and
the very man for Jesus' service refused. What happened in
Galilee happens in every age; if we take the drudgery of the
Christian service — not its fads and fashions — we shall find
that the people who have the heart to face and do it arc plain
men, not dilettante triflers, and to them will belong the glory
when the history of the kingdom is written, and every man
receives according to his work. Nicodemus would be tempted
to regard John — a Galilean fisherman — with some conde-
scension that night; but if it were not for John, we had not
heard of Nicodemus; and Gamaliel, from hi, scholarly retreat,
would pity the enthusiast who followed Jesus; but after ages
have pitied Gamaliel, that timid opportunist. Because rabbis
and rulers were too cautious or hostile to be His apostles, the
Master chose twelve poor, obscure men, and now they sit on
thrones judging the twelve tribes of Israel.
It is not, however, to be thought that because Jesus could not
obtain scholars, and therefore chose peasants, that His cause
thereby suffered loss. Were one building a church, it might
seem a noble gift to place at his disposal the carved remains
of a classical temple; it would really be a snare and an em-
barrassment. As they stand these stones will be useless, since
they were cut for another order of architedlure, and their de-
sign is deeply impressed. Even if recarved, there would remain
a suggestion of alien curves and obliterated traceries. Better,
after all, to seledl virgin stones from the quarry, and on their
unoccupied surface imprint the new pattern. Would Nicode-
mus ever have been so utterly receptive of Jesus as John was?
Would Joseph of Arimathea have been as obedient as Matthew?
The missionaries of the Cross would have been apt to mix the
theology of the raobis with the religion of Jesus. And was it
of much importance that the apostles should be distinguished

[192]

THE TWELVE

either in knowledge or rank? Was it not their function to be
Jesus' witnesses — not to defend or expound Him, but to
declare the Master, — to let the world know what He was
and what He did? For this duty were needed simplicity,
honesty, faith, and afFedlion, and these were exceeding abun-
dant in the apostles.

Are we even obliged to conclude that in the matter of mental
endowment the apostles count for little, or that the Master
would have fared better with twelve scholars of Jerusalem ?
Learning may not be ability : some scholars are fatuous for any
pradical purpose. Position is not power, it may be only wind
and bombast. You may give a man the benefit of the whole
machinery of education, and he may turn out an incapable.
You may find a man who is destitute of culture, and yet has
shrewdness and force to manage great affairs. Are we not
bound to believe that, from the circle of His disciples, a con-
siderable number, Jesus chose the men of spiritual genius, and
that in all Galilee there could not be found twelve abler men?
Has the world produced a profounder mystic than St. John ?
and could any cause have had a bolder leader than St. Peter at
the day of Pentecost? St. Matthew accumulated, with much
accuracy, the materials for what is the basal Gospel. The in-
sight of a chief leader is shown by his discovery and choice
of unknown genius; Jesus gave to the apostles their oppor-
tunity, and they justified His discernment unto all ages.
No doubt it may seem on the first glanCw- a-i if we know next
to nothing of the twelve apostles save St. John and St. Peter,
and that ten at least are only a group of faces without charac-
ter or individuality; but we come to another view after a little
study. By-and-by, as the eye rests on the pifture and its points
come into relief, one begins to do justice to the countenances
in the pifture. Going from one to another, we discover that
they are not so many strokes meant to suggest a face, or the

[193]

¥:1

ll)i

■1

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

same face repeated with the slightest variation twelve times but
that, as in one of the best groups of sacred art, say a Giotto
this artist has conceived the charafter of each man. and given
us, not so many persons to be counted, but so many friends to
be known. We linger now, as it were, over the pose of the
figure, the gesture of the hands, the expression in the eyes—
identifying the type of charader, supplying the incidents, writ-
ing the biography. We begin with twelve names, and, with the
expense of some slight attention, we can conclude with twelve
men. According to the arrangement of the Gospels the apostles
fall into three groups, each containing four members. The first
consists of two pairs of brothers, viz., Jojyi the disciple whom
Jesus loved, and his brother James, the first martyr of the apos-
tolic band, who were men of spiritual ideals and high spirit,
as became the sons of Salome and kinsmen of the Master and
who were fitly named the sons of thunder. The second 'pair
are Simon, whom, on the first sight of him, Jesus named a
rock for the hidden strength which was in him, and who is
yet to vindicate his name; and his brother Andrew, a man of
energy and courage, who found Jesus for himself, and then
sought out his greater brother Simon. These were counted
two and two by blood, and all four by charafter, resolute and
forceful, the front rank men and leaders of the apostolate.
The second group is made up of men with gifts which are
distinft and necessary. Two had the faculty of business, which
is accurate and orderly, which is at home with figures and
fadts, to which a comparison, say of prophecies and fulfil-
ments, is dear,— shrewd and capable managers. They are
Matthew, the publican of Capernaum, whose training as a
government official is seen in the carefulness of his first Gos-
pel, and Philip, whose matter-of-fadness was a wholesome
element in the apostolic atmosphere. Their two brethren of
this group were at the other extreme, contributing a certain

[194]

!«3

knSm

THE TWELVE

spirit of just criticism and affeftionate sentiment, men whose
reason suggested many doubts, but whose hearts were charged
with love. They are Nathanacl, or Bartholomew, who did not
believe that any good thing should come out of Nazareth, but,
after one interview with Jesus, acknowledged Him the Son
of God; and Thomas, who was an agnostic by nature, but pas-
sionately devoted to the Master. None of these four could have
led, because they had not the high spirit and daring, nor the
brilliancy and originality of men of the first order; but they
had each an independent talent of a marked kind and had
each a marked individuality.

Four remain to make the last group, and they have a common
likeness to begin with, although one was to be separated from
the others by a bridgclcss gulf. They are Jajnes, sometimes
called the Less; and Judas, not Iscariot, whose enquiry of the
Master in the Upper Room how He would reveal Himself to
His own and not to the world suggests a narrow Jewish atti-
tude ; and Simon the Zealot, whose title shows that this apostle
belonged to the extreme patriotic party in the nation, which
would have been willing to take up arms against the Romans,
and the last was Judas of Kerioth, who seems to have been a
Judean and to have had some acquaintance with the rulers in
Jerusalem. These were men of limited but clear vision, who
knew what they believed, and were ready to stand by their be-
lief. They were thorough-going partisans — one being an ex-
ception — representing the body of the society, which will
follow its chiefe whithersoever they lead. And these were the
twelve apostles.

Upon these men was laid a task without parallel — the
propagation of the supreme religion of the world; but never
in the history of education had pupils such a supreme advan-
tage, for they spent, say, two years in the intimate society of
Jesus. They not only heard the great discourse on the Mount,

[195]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

but they also learned from many a conversation, as the Master
and the d.sc.ples journeyed along the roads of Galilee how
hese prmcples were to be applied to life. With the mul'titud"
they were present when the Master gave the ParablTsof the
Kingdom, and when the multitude had departed they ecei ed
her explanafon. When the Master from tL to timVreduced

he ZZi: ^°f"^'°"' ? '^^-^' -- - anxious sout
tne way of hfe everlastmg, they stood by. He sent then, «n

cxpenmental missions. He taught them 'to pray litTth;

very words for their use; He allowed them to'hel H " pr '

H travelled w«h them, ate and drank with them, and^gave

unto those favoured men all the privileges of friendship.Tu

the ch.ef serv.ce the Master rendered unto the apostl^ was

the culture of their charafter. It was needful that thoseTmoT

con fderirl T . 'r'"'"^ °^ J""" °"^ gathers what He
considered the chief qualities for religious service.

The first IS hardness, and this was enforced in one of the most

y.v.d incidents in Jesus' private life. Two of His disciplL had

jnhe t,d to the full the high and patriotic spirit othdr

mother Salome, and both John and James had flung them-

elves into the cause of Jesus without reserve. So simple l"

established in all ,ts glory, and. as men of Jesus' blood they

wZT ""' '^'' ""^''^ ^° ^'"^ P-«d-" of straigerT
W. h their mother. John and James made an open request
hat in the coming distribution of honours they should have

other on His left. Jesus did not rebuke this request with sever-
ty for It contained the desire of a mother'' heart, and the
ambi ion was not of this world. What condemned this worn n!
hke prayer was its unconscious selfishness, and its ignorance of
the principles of spu.cual service. Was the KingdL of God

['96]

THE TWELVE

ter

'e
It

to be another scramble — for thrones; and if so, what of Peter
and Andrew? If there be rewards, they must be bestowed, not
through influence, but by merit; not upon the men who ask
first, but upon them who have done most. Thrones were not
largesse, which Jesus could distribute among His friends; they
were honours inseparably connedled with adtions, which must
be given to the fit, which cannot be given to the unfit; or, as
Jesus puts it, they shall be theirs for whom they are prepared.
There was only one road to a throne, and it was the way of
the Cross; the apostles would obtain their thrones exadly as
Jesus obtained His— by sufl=ering. They must be baptised with
His baptism, and drink of His cup; they must be willing to
be hated and cast out; for the first condition of all success is
that a man be not soft or slack, but that he toil and endure,
and so his throne shall come to him without begging, without
his thinking. James obtained the first throne of the twelve,
and it was conferred on him by the headsman's sword; and
his brother received the last, and he reached it through great
tribulation.

Another quality of apostleship was single-heartedness, and by
that is meant that work be done from the highest motives.
The worker may be mercenary in any department, doing his
work not for love of it but for his wages; and this is the cause i
of bad art and bad literature, of rotten business and dishonest ;
politics. The curse is heaviest in religion. Within religion a
calculating spirit pollutes the blood at its spring, and Jesus was
on His guard Icr-t this spirit should afl^eft His disciples, since
they had made sacrifices, and were not quite unconscious of
their heroism. When the young ruii^r concluded that, for the
time at least, he could not aftord to join Jesus' company, Peter's
interest was excited. If that disciple would have ha^l so great
a recompense, how would it be with theins»-l\ *• s ? "Master,"
said Peter, with much frankness, •' wt- have left all and followed

[ «97 ]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

'^^

Thee, what shall we have?" Half »k
question wa. redeemed by its siml fev ""P'':*"'""- °^ '^e
d.«c.ples that the bread they had c«t on th •'""'' *""'''* "''
found after many day,- but H.l l i "^^'"^ ^""'^ be

to show that rel'giormust „"t b/r ^" ^"""' "'''' ''"""
-cnt. Some mayLke a ba"gl*^^^^^^^^^^^ »« « ^''^-^ invest-
yard. and for their toil and worT till n """"^ "^ ^''^ ^'"-
wage. Some may work f^r love's alcT I'd """/ '"^'^"^^'^
grace, not law. the Vine-Master UlbesT "'"'V^'^ "'''"'* °"
generous gifts. He who counts it thi 17 °" '^'^ "" '"«'*
worthy work to do will bcTalfi H ^^^""'^ °^"^'= »° ^ave

will have passed into h s woTat " " :'""' '°' *>« «P'-
which is not of earth """'' " ^"'^ ^''<' beauty

^iTtiiir ;ter ^,r ^^;'-"^ ^ ^%^^-nd this

the reasonable spirit o{7^ ' „ T °^. "^'^ '^'J^ '^''^ '-»
would be a tragic'di;:ali t r trh^^^^^^^ .^''^^^

who was the Friend of publicans anH '"•^"«"'' °Oesus.
tested Samaritan an example "f t '•""'"' '"'' "'"^" ' '^'■
James, with the charaS nstrn^" ^''.^ J°^" -^^
would have called down fire on IT '^'°"' J^^^^^X'

aghast at their ungodly "pWt and TTT. ''"'•«^' J""« --
must understand fnce for a^ ' 2t ft !?'" ^'"P'^^" '^^^^
the head of another inZ^l:^:J;:^^t7 Tru'' ''
and to embark on a career «f il -^^""'^ Church.

«f . »piri.ua, clrZtS'riH''"' '? .'' '^^ """
P«>pfc crywhcre. If fire is „„ ,„ k '' 'f "''' "' S'^
■he »rva„B.„d„„,b,,h.';r';° '=."«'•'' will b, by

orrr-L-tnirs'r^'^^T"'-^"*-

[ 198 ] ' '"

THE TWELVE

disciples had not learned the lesson. With the shadow of their
Master's death already upon their souls, and at a time when
petty rivalries might well have been forgotten, they revived a
standing dispute as to who should be greatest. It was the be-
coming habit of the company, who were servants one of an-
other, that one should wash his brethren's feet when they
entered their lodging, but none would sec the basin and water
at the door of the Upper Room. They passed and sat down
with uneasy manner and unclcansed feet, avoiding the Master's
eyr who rose at last and did for them all, from John to Judas,
what in their childishness none of them would do for his
brother. They refused to humble themselves because they
were so little; He condescended because He was so great. And
with this last telling parable, wherein the cool water blistered
their callous feet, Jesus taught the disciples that neither faith
nor charity would avail anything without humility, and that
the chief in the Christian society would be the servant who
rendered the lowliest service to his fellow-men.

[199]

If:

wr*

Chapter XXII : Three Interviews

T is recorded of Jesus in the
foil- ,11 Gospel that •• He knew
whi! was in man," and the
C.'sjvls are a comm ■■ .ary jn
tl)c unerring !>cr,o!iai insight
of the Master Hr estimued
each ni;;n'K cK inctf-r, i Ic read
each man'^, tluughts. He
prophesied each man's action.
He did not overvalue effusive
loyalty — putting men to se-
vere tests who declared that they would follow Him whither-
soever He went. He did not discourage genuine humility —
bidding Mary Magdalene go in peace. If He was betrayed, at
least He was not disappointed — He anticipated the treachery
of Judas. If He seemed to trust too fondly, in the end He w as
not disappointed — St. Peter did bravely before His day was
done. The poor bravado of the social outcasts did not hide their
bitter regret from Jesus, and the dishonest zeal of the Pharisees
did not atone for their profound unreality. When any one's
faith was weak, Jesus fostered it ; and if it were strong. He
tried it. Na group of Pharisees could murmur together but He
knew wh« they were saying, and put them to confusion. A
few of His disciples could not discuss the meaning of His
words without His marking tl.eir perplexity, and giving them
light. He made no mistake in any of His judgments, He had

[20I]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

no failure in any of His dealings. And from among His many
interviews, wuh as many types of men. these stand out con-
spicsious, convmcing. final.

(^) The first was with a critic, who illustrated that state of
mmd wuhout prejudice or insincerity, which desires to believe
and only asks for sufficient evidence. Nathanael lived on hi
land at Cana and gave himself to thought and study. He stood
apart from the dogmatists of Jerusalem, for to this man's can-
d.d nature the w.re-drawn arguments and crass bigotry of the
Phansees were an offence. He stood apart also from thTmove
ment of the Baptist, for to this man's refinement the excile-
ment of the multitude was alien. He was as earnest about
religion as any young man who hurried up from Galilee and
hung upon the lips of the Baptist - far more real th n he
viper brood who came out from Jerusalem and hate" the
Prophet. But the character of a maa's religion depends on the
form into which his nature has been run. and the providencl
which have shaped his life ; and each man must be tL to him
self in this matter of religion, neither imitating : , . judging his
neighbour. St. John went to the Jordan bL..J tlfee wi
quiet there ; and Philip. Nathanael's friend, went because ther"

but Nathanael w^ a quiet, modest, diffident, questioning per^
son. and he stayed at home. ^ ^

As the qu^tion of the Messiah filled the air. Nathanael was
as busy with the quest of the day under his fig tree as the eager
crowd which argued round the Baptist; but he used a critical

tear of God upon the people. Nathanael in his study was gath-
ering what was written about the Messiah in Holy Scripture
accumulating, comparing, reconciling evidence, and creating'

TJT:: n "°"'' "'"^ ^'^ ^^"°"' ^"'^ •'y -hich he coul!
Identify the Coming One. He is not for an instant to be

[202]

r^n^ssse"**

THREE INTERVIEWS

confounded with that noisy and irritating class who are proud
of their cleverness and their scraps of knowledge, and their
jinghng logic, and their freedom from all conviftions. Befvcen
a sceptic and a critic there is this immense difference, that the
former demands evidence which cannot be given, and the other
only wms for trustworthy evidence to yield full rejoicing faith
Nathanael is the representative of a class of men, to be found
in all ranks and places, but chiefly among the educated and
quiet folk in their retreats, who have not found the Christ
but who would give all they possess to see His face. They
read every book and weigh every argument: they say no word
against faith, and envy every one who believes; but whatever they
lose they are determined not to lose a good conscience, and what-
ever they suffer they will not suffer the charge of hypocrisy.
Nathanael was so fortunate as to have a man of affairs for his
friend, whom Jesus took possession of by a word, and it is
refreshing to read how Philip bethought himself at once of
the student busy seeking the Messiah among his books; how
he carried the news of his own discovery to Cana with over-
flowing confidence; and how he anticipated the immediate
satisfadlion of Nathanael. How pathetic is it also to imagine
the wistful eagerness of the guileless spirit to receive the glad
news, the perplexity which clouded Nathanael's face as he
heard of Nazareth, and the sad conclusion that this new
prophet, who had satisfied uncritical Philip, could not be the
Messiah. It was impossible that he should come from that dis-
reputable Nazareth, and contrary to the word of prophets.
And yet is the question of Jesus to be settled by ancient books
and theological arguments? Does it count for nothing that
honest Philip has seen Him and been taken captive? Are per-
sonal testimony and experience to be ruled out of court? There
are times when the sword of common sense cuts the meshes
of reasoning, and it was nothing else than an inspiration when

[203]

}'■
I

4^'

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

Philip advised his l«rned. speculative, conscientious friend to
sec Jesus for himself.

It may seem as if Nathanael pa««d over swiftly f^om reason-
able doubt to enthusiastic faith, but this transition was a
great tnbute to Jesus' skill and understanding. The Master

from the Prophets. What good had been gained by an aca-
demical vidtory over Nathanael ? Jesus went to the root of re-
hgion, and answered the deepest demand in that heart. Can
any one unravel the tangled skein of ay thoughts, and fed
soulfSnt "^ temptations, and ful£l the best desires of my
1 ; . T r^''" """ '° myself? Then he shall be my

hon^t soul, and Jesus answered Nathanael's unuttered prayer
As the patriarch Jacob had ^v-estlcd until daybreak to know
the name of God. Jesus declares Nathanael aLtter Ja" ob -!
an Israehte with Jacob's des.e. and wuhout Jacob's gJile.
And when the good man acknowledges the Divine power

King of Israel. Jesus assures him that this is only the be-
gjnmng of revelation and that the same Who has explained

like Jacob m his dream, this guileless soul will yet see thJ
heavens opened, and the angels ascending and descending on

f^i , » •■ f ' ''''' "" '°" J'^^- '"'^de a critic'into
a disciple. He satisfied him.

(^) The second interview was with a formalist, who was the
rnost honest Pharisee Jesus met. and it took place on the mZ
ter s first visit to Jerusalem. Among the ruling elates there
was at least one man who gave a friendly hearing to Jesus
He held high rank in the council of the nation and had a
reputation for theology, and might have been inaccessible to
new Ideas. One may be sure that Nicodemus would miss a cer-

[204]

JESUS AND NICODKML'S
t.vcn so must the Son of man be lifted up!— John, III. 14.

1/ !'!; - W '' I ' ,■

I I .■

=''■ -jOI

lit

5-;- - ".

THREE INTERVIEWS

tain academic flavour in Jesus' speech dear unto scholars, and
that his cpclesiastical reverence would be shocked at Jesus' icon-
oclasm. Still it remains that one honest man recognises another,'
and an earnest seeker is ever ready to welcome truth. The
Master had thejiote of sincerity, and Nicodemus was irresisti-
bly attracted. For years he had been weary of empty rites, hack-
neyed phrases, barren methods ; he craved for reality, and Jesus
was real. If there was a secret of truth, this young provincial had
it, and Nicodemus determined to have an interview with Jesus.
Had he been a private person — a mere fisherman of Galilee
he had simply followed Jesus along the street and gone openly
with him into His lodgings ; the obscure are always disguised.
For Nicodemus to accompany Jesus from the Temple might
have created a sensation which would have been most hate-
ful to his temperament and led to unprofiublc gossip. Be-
sides his scholarly dislike to vulgar notoriety he was bound to
consider the efFe<&: his adit>fi would have on his colleagues,
with whom he was bound to act in concert, and on the pub-
lic, who looked to him for guidance. An irresponsible person
might be rash without danger ; from him Jerusalem had a
right to expeft caution and gravity. It may be allowed, as the
fourth Evangelist suggests, that fear had something to do with
the expedient of Nicodemus. Nothing is more common than
the union of physical courage which despises pains, with intel-
ledual cowardice which refuses lighv ; and of physical cow-
ardice which shrinks from pain, with intelledual courage which
is afraid of no truth. Of the latter type was Nicodemus, the Eras-
mus of Jesus' day. His habits made him timid, and he missed
the high place which might have been his ; but he was hon-
est, and his bravery grew with pradtice, so that in the end he
was one of the faithful few who laid the Master to rest.
St. John seems to have had a house in the capital, and there
most likely Jesus and Nicodemus met in the stillness of night,

[205]

II'

''\

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

with no sound to disturb save the spring wind blowing d.>wn
the street, wuh no witness save John, quiet, watchfu^y^x^pa-
thetK, standing ,n the shadow of the room. They preLnt a
v.v,d and suggestive contrast; the old rabbi, pallid, hought-
worn. weary, the type of that which has grown old a;d is ^
o vamsh away ; and the young prophet, the child of the open

U-7 V''"^' "' '"P*^ "P°" '^'^ ^-^' representing that
wh.ch .s to be. It was the day of transition, and it coufd no

break before he close the door on the venerabie and pious tradi-
tions of the past which had been his faith ; and. bef./e Jesus had
finally opened the gate of the new. His hands would be pierced
wuh „a.,s. So .n this humble place the old and the new m'e f e

^face and through theopen window entered thewindof God.
With his first words Nicodemus reveals his position, and one
IS struck by the immense difference between the old and the
new Nicodemus acknowledges at once that Jesus is a rabbi
and that He ha. Divine san^ion. which wasteiy candid ani'
generous, and thus it is evident that after this courteous open-
ing he proposed to discuss the idea of the Kingdom of God
on the lines of Jewish history. Jesus anticipates this futility

with one of His most startling sayings: " Verily, ver^y I
say unto you unless a man be born again he cannot see Ae
Kingdom of God." Nicodemus began with one Idea of reh!
gion, and Jesus with another. To the Jewish scholar religion
was the acceptance of dogma, the observance of ritual, the per-
formance of good works, with the conventional view of Sod
as a judical and national Deity. To the Galilean Prophet
religion was an mtuition of goodness, a spirit of sonship. a ser-
vice of liberty with God as the universal Father, spiritua' com-
passionate, beneficent. Unto Nicodemus religion' was a rulT;
to Jesus It was a life, and one could only shift from the one

[206]

^i^?m.-''^^xm:^'L^ mFW^:^=^mm&'

THREE INTERVIEWS

position to the other by an inspiration from above. How often
had Nicodemus desired to escape from his environment, of
which he was weary, with its words, forms, unreality, and
find himself in a new, fresh, real world ! as if an old man, grey,
bloodless, shrivelled, should be born again, and begin life with
the wonder, trust, and gladness of a little child. This vague
longing Nicodemus had cherished beneath his formalism, but
had put aside as a dream; and now Jesus had come to confirm
the secret expedtation of his soul. This was how a clodrinaire
passed into a disciple. Jesus emancipated him.
1 The third interview was with a sinner, Zaccheus, a chief pub-
lican in Jerichc: md had one of us been in the town when Jesus
passed through, he had been apt to suspedt that there were two
men called Zaccheus, with the most remarkable physical likeness
and the most extreme moral unlikeness. A Pharisee would give
an exceedingly discouraging biography of Zaccheus; that he had
prosecuted a disreputable business with brazen efl'rontery, and
had accumulated a fortune out of the sufl^erings of the poor ;
that he had been guilty of many ads of gross injustice, and
that he associated with the most abandoned people; that he
never attended the synagogue ; and that, as he, the Pharisee, had
reason to believe, he led a wicked life. And all this the Phari-
see believed, for this was the only Zaccheus the Pharisee knew.
When Jesus caught the look in the publican's face, and re-
membered what he had heard of him. He saw another Zac-
cheus, who had once cherished the enthusiastic dreams of
youth and had been forced by circumstances into an unfor-
tunate business; who had allowed himself to do many things
which filled him with disgust, and who winced under the
ostracism of society ; who could not cross the door of the syna-
gogue because he had been excommunicated, and who had
flown in the face of conventional religion because conventional
people had insulted his wife and children; who would have

[207]

W^..

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

given all he had to win the good opinion of his fellow-men.
and who longed for 8ome one to hold out a helping hand to
him. This was the Zaccheus Jesus knew.
For years the religious people of Jericho had been doine all
they Knew with Zaccheus and they had made a poor business
of their efforts at salvation. They had tried advice, denuncia-
tion ostracism, excommunication, in vain: one plan they had
not thought of, and that was believing in Zaccheus. This was
the original idea of Jesus, who did not preach at Zaccheus.
but instead thereof asked his hospitality. He could have stayed
at any house m Jericho; He went to the house of a man who
had been put in the pillory and pelted for a generation. When
the Master said, "Zaccheus, come down. I must abide at thy
house to-day." the publican heard the Gospel for the first time,
and saw the clouds break above his head. One man trusted him
and that Man Jesus of Nazareth. As Jesus went along the street
with him under the reproach of the people, as the Master spake
kindly to His host, who had never received a gracious word
in his life from a good man. as the Friend of women and chil-
dren ^ives gentle, respedful greeting to Zaccheus' family, the
heart of Zaccheus melted within him. Jesus had treated him
as if he were the most honourable, generous and upright man
in Jericho. This. God knew, he had not been; but this, with
God 8 help, he was going to be. "Lord, the half of my goods
I now give to the poor." Jesus had not asked him. "If I have
wronged any man. this day shall I return him fourfold " Jesus
had not suggested such misdeeds. Before the charity of the
Master the chains of avarice, and dishonesty, and pride, and
bitterness broke, and Zaccheus stood a free man before God and
his fellow-men. This wa. God's Zaccheus. Who had been right
the Pharisee or Jesus. In th^tr judgment or their method ? "Be'
hold him," said Jesus in the triumph of grace, "he also is a son
of Abraham." And so Jesus saved a sinner by believing in him.

[208]

Chapter XXIII: Twenty-four Hours
with Jesus

|HERE are times when we are
inclined to complain of the
Gospels because they are so
brief, so reserved, so incom-
plete. Why not every word
Jesus spake to His disciples,
to the Pharisees, to the people
— for each syllable of the
Master had been gold — in-
stead of these few seledted
sayings? Why not everything
He did, how He walked along the field paths of Galilee, how
He looked as He received the children into His arms, how He
carried Himself in Zaccheus' house — a hundred touches of ex-
pression, gesture, manner? Why not every one of His mighty
works — each person healed in the crowds who waited on
Him and were healed? Was not each an evidence, a parable,
a gospel? From our distance we grudge the parsimony of these
good Evangelists, or the limitations of their memory, or the
selection of the traditions, by which we are tantalised and
impoverished.

Other times we are tempted to complain because the Gospels
are so rapid, so comprehensive, so luxuriant. Parable follows
parable, each one more attradlive and pregnant than the last;
miracle crowds on miracle, so that we are dazed with astonish-
ment. Jesus confounds Pharisees, instruifte His disciples, and

[209]

{ -

.aie »■

I-''*

i)»

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

blesses children within one hour. We pant after Him from the
Jordan to Cana, from Cana to Capernaum and Nazareth, from
Nazareth to Capernaum, from Capernaum to Jerusalem, afraid
to loiter lest we should lose some word, miss some work. We
are like travellers by one of the high level railways, who are
torn between opposite views, and have not time to see either;
like visitors to the Pitti, who are lost in a gallery where all
are masterpieces; we are whirled breathless through beauty;
we are in despair over our riches. Our eyes are dazzled so
that we cannot see clearly, and His disciples had been almost
willing to surrender those years of splendid affluence for one
day which they could store in their imagination, and make
their own — four and twenty hours in the life of Jesus.
We have a choice of single days, and the supreme day of Jesus'
life was the last; but after that high place of agony and vic-
tory, perhaps the best for a disciple's purpose is a certain day
in the Galilean ministry, where we can follow the Master's
work from sunset to sunset. We shall then know how He
gave Himself in life as much as in death, and how He did
His Father's will ; we shall be able to imagine the wealth of
sacrifice and the immense charities which are not told.
Upon the previous day the Master had been teaching in par-
ables, and had traced the evolution of the kingdom of God
from the seed cast into the ground, through its growth and
conflia, enlarging also on its beauty and value, to its cleansing
and perfedWon in the dragnet. After the people had reludantly
dispersed, and He was alone with His disciples by the lake side,
Jesus expoundet" to them the inwardness of those parables, since
they were to be the stewards of the Divine mysteries. Nothing,
neither physical toil nor bodily pain, is more utterly exhaust-
ing than a great spiritual deliverance; it strains the mind al-
most to the breaking, and creates a passionate longing for
rest. As the people were still waiting in the distance, in hope

[210]

< < r: < mt mm

TWENTY-FOUR HOURS WITH JESUS

of more, and Jesus could not have quiet in Capernaum, He
asked Peter to take Him over to the other side of the lake,
where He could be alone. The sun had set when the boat put
out from the shore, and Jesus fell sound asleep in the afterpart
of the boat, where some kindly hand had laid a pillow for His
head. After dark there came one of those sudden, confused
storms which lash inland lakes into fury, and which make
steering almost useless. The water began to fill the undecked
boat, and they were in danger of being swamped. They lost
their nerve in the gusty darkness, and fell into a panic as they
imagined themselves sinking within a short distance of home,
and perishing in their own loved lake. They w re ama: »d that
the Master should sleep unmoved by the wind and waves, and
they awaked Him with reproaches, as if they could perish
and He be safe. So dependent had those disciples become on
the Master that they now turned to Him in every strait, and
even on their own fishing-ground looked to Him for deliver-
ance. He rose, unamazed and unalarmed, Whom no commo-
tion of nature or of man could shake, and commanded peace,
and there was a great calm; but it may be that the calm was
greater in the terrified souls of the disciples than in the waters
of the fickle lake. Through the night they had been tossed
and driven; now, as the sun's first rays strike the lake, they
come in quiet waters to the eastern shore.
The blue water and green slopes were bathed in fresh morn-
ing light, but the Master met, on landing, a storm sadder and
wilder than any that could ever rage on the sea of Galilee.
Among the rocks on the side of the hill were caves whe^-e the
dead of Gergesa were laid, and in them lived a maniac whom
none could control nor chains hold. Quiet nights he would
spend in the tombs, holding ghoulish intercourse with the
dead ; but last night he had rushed to and fro oi. «-he heights,
revelling in the black darkness and howling wind ; welcoming

[211]

1<.

V if-

.i^'-

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

the storm in nature, which corresponded with that in his own
tormented soul. This was the first person Jesus met, and the
sight of the Master in His divine peace and hoHness aroused
the evil spirit to frenzy, for in those days, when Jesus was on
earth, the eternal conflidl between good and evil came to a
height, with instinftive hatred on both sides, shuddering repul-
sions, fierce agonies, beyond our imagination, who live in days
when the fires of the spiritual world burn low and the fron-
tiers between the two worlds of darkness and light are not
sharply defined. Within this miserable being there was a dou-
ble consciousness — two spirits, one of which appealed in silence
by that half-human face, that squalid body, those rattling
fetters, for dehverance ; the other which fa\vned and did

1 homage, and besought Jesus to depart. These two the

beasj^ man and the God man — which are in us all in meas-
ure, Jesus came to separate, and His first ad this morning.
Who last night had caused the windy tempest to cease on
the lake, was to call forth the devil from this unhappy man,
that he might go in peace to his home, healed and sane. No
ccnflia of spiritual forces like this, sharp and decisive, can
take place without affeding the outer world. Between man and
the lower creation there is a sympathy so constant and sensi-
tive that animals respond to our moods — as, for instance, a
horse which is panic-stricken if its rider has lost his head, or
which is soothed by its rider's calmness. A herd of swine were
feeding on the steep slope of the hill, and, at the piercing
shrieks of the madman, were seized with one of those sudden
unmanageable frenzies to which those crass, unlovely but very
nervous creatures are subjedl, and, in spite of their keepers*

i hopeless efl^orts, dashed in one stream of terror into the lake,
and there, as swine cannot save themselves by swimming, and

as they would be piled one above another, they were drowned.

It was natural in that age, when such sights were to be seen

[212]

TWENTY-FOUR HOURS WITH JESUS

and so little was known of their meaning, that the keepers
(and the disciples also) should suppose that Jesus had sent the
spirit of evil from the man into the swine, and that they should
hurry with a sensational account to the peop'e of Gergesa.
One can also understand that the owners were not particularly
pleased to hear of the loss of their herd, but it is very disap-
pointing to find that when it came to be a choice between the
presence of Jesus and the safety of swine, they literally besought
the Master to return whither He had come. For the Gerge-
senes were the type of that large class in all ages to whose
lives Jesus has brought disturbance, and who would purchase
unholy living by His absence. So Jesus, exiled this time for
His mercy, as sometimes He was for His doctrine, took boat,
still early in the day, and, with a favourable wind, sailed to
Capernaum.

The effedt of yesterday had not departed, and the report of his
return brought a multitude to the shore who received him
gladly, and passed one to another the miracle of Gergesa. Ac-
companied by the admiring people, with here and there a jeal-
ous, wrathful Pharisee, Jesus went to His lodging at Peter's
house. He was obliged again to preach, standing in a room,
while His hearers filled the house, and overflowed into the
street. As the Master went through the town with the glory
of this new miracle upon Him, four neighbours, speaking to-
gether at some corner, were visited with a sudden inspiration.
They had a friend who, as was well known in Capernaum, had
sown his wild oats v/ith prodigal hand and was now reaping
their bitter harvest in his body as well as his soul. Stricken
with palsy, this man, once strong and lustful, now lay in his
decrepitude an objedl of contempt to himself, of pity to the
town. With all his faults he had been good-natured, like many
of his kind, and ready to help others in the days of his strength ;
so his friends desired to do a good turn to him. If Jesus could

[213]

T'll

1 !

THF LIFE OF THE MASTER

-L^ris t7; ''""' I ""-'--- -'y ^^-'^ He „oe

all men of thX hTn s Z .." ''7"T"'- ^^ ^ then.,
ing one corner of his bed Z' 1" ''''"'' ^ '' ^^^^ '^°''^-
abjed is mightily touch HK I "7 ^"" '" ^'''''' ^''"''^- The
so'that theif; re L'e faith ."T ^"' '"^^'"^ ^° '''^P<='
reach the house than Tn I u ^"'- ^' '' ''''''' however, to
the doorwaT and the fiv / ^"'"' '''' ^^^ ""-'^ ^lock

witted th. 'Sf Hots has" "^'r^'^Z-P-- One. quicker
indebted to -n us f^r H °"^'"'^ '^"' '"'^ '^''^"'^ '« -<=r

sibletoapproarLS btri "" T'"'^- ''" "^ ^P^
No crowd's staninghe'^t^^^^^^^^

use. With an effo t thev I ^k ' "'^" '' ''^^y ^°^ ^heir

remove th s^he ce fin^ f 7 '''''"' °" '""^ ^^^'^^^ ^ ''^^X
Master is preaXn'hi^ ^ '°°"'' ''"'^ '^^'^'^ "^^1- 'he

and four ea^ertcfs expe^ r" 'V" IT '^^^^^^ "'«^-
of the suffefer is H L pr'ayer ^hTs ' '^ ''' ''^^P'^^"^^
silent, certain exac tn^^ • u "^'^ P''^'"' ^"^""' ^°'-ds.
that -ment.^nd a e'^^^^^^^^^^ ^^^^^ ^-^^-at'

the Master with much tenH ^'^^J^^Pany. "Son." said

ful face. " Be of Zf T T' "' "' '°°''^'^ °" '^^^ «^«t-

«f^rthis^:;L^i:S-i;^-t^:f^^-^^^^

att^elje^a^f "^^ ^T'^-^^^^t:^
was going to ero;er?.;"'7'^'"^'^°'^^^^°^y' ^"^ He

first L ^t riif: u^-. ;i;f:;. ;: :^: -^--^^^ ^^^

than "rise." so divine indeed that tl Pha Lesirr^.T'

-etthoughrbe&:xrr::^:.r^^^

J us. pals,ed man arose, a man again before God and his

[214J

TWENTY-FOUR HOURS WITH JESUS

brethren, and lifted up his bed, and they made a passage for him
and he passed through their midst and went home, while the
crowd lifted up their voices in glory to God Who had given
such power to men.

The broken sermon could not be continued, and Jesus left the
house, that He might go to the lake and rest beside its coolness
at noontide of the day ; but for Him that day there could be
no rest till the darkness fell. His presence was f ver treating
new situations ; His grace involved Him in unexpected labours.
On His way to the shore Jesus passes the local customhouse,
and He sees the publican sitting in his open office. The crowd
fling glances of hatred and contempt on him ; good Pharisees
cross the street to avoid contamination ; but Matthew does not
heed them ; he is looking for Jesus, and in the scattering of the
people the Master's eyes and his meet. Since Jesus had begun
to preach at Capernaum this publican had been a constant
hearer, standing on the outskirts of the crowd or hiding him-
self in some corner that he might catch the first words of true
religion which had now fallen on his ears. Between him and
Jesus there had also been some private conferences, when he
had asked certain questions and the Master had made plain to
him the way of life. To-day Jesus saw that Matthew had made
up his mind, and was waiting for the word of invitation. His
decision would be final, and it had better be known to all. Jesus
stood opposite the detested receipt of custom and commanded
Matthew, with His note of spiritual authority, " Fellow Me " ;
and with dramatic completeness, as showing in a sign his utter
obedience, Matthew left everything that hour and cast in his
lot with Jesus. As this outcast stood in the road beside his new
Lord, chosen and called, the Pharisees in their outer circlewould
criticise and murmur, but to-day Matthew is oblivious through
joy. As he sees a new, clean, unselfish life opening up before
him he has only one desire ungratified, and that is that Jesus

[215]

',<

■

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

shodd , ,„ his house to celebrate this chief event in his
Lie The Master had gone to dine with Simon the Ph "isec
would He accept hospitality from Matthew the publican It'
must needs be a hastily prepared feast, since he h'au „o " L
opated the event of the day. but it would be a great fesf
the guests that would be there and fn »», • ■ i
home with Matthew. Every rubl^al ^ C X^Z^^Z^;
and every good thing which could l^ got ,L laidl thetbl
m honour of Jesus. Who hadother treatment froml^hosVthan
Simon gave; but Jesus had meat to car thn day they knew no^
of as He looked on Matthew and his friends ^ ^ °'

From the outside a group of Pharisees watched the scene and
.narledSmce they could not reach Jesus at the 11;" they
ndto browbeat H.s disciples, who were sitting near the door

S^=e::^rs:r=£s^£

daunt H,s fishermen, and He was not sorry to^nl' Jse
Phansees m the presence of the publicans. V^^y did He not go
to them ? for that was their suggestion. Because they d7not

Was S?r; h ' '^""" "-^ ''' ^^- - ^-d -^en He wen
Was S mon hearmg Him. or any of the men who had been at
S.mon s feast ? Why did He come here ? that was the qutfon

K^ appomted work : saving men from sin. Did they ever ex

r?ub;^ '''• \""^'°"^ ^'^^^'^^ ""'"^ - - honouredTue t fn
a pubhcan s house, and that publican leaving his gains to i^

the religious Ixfe.. Th Pharisees were silent One controvey

seemed to raise another, and now a few of John BaptiXdif

copies, encouraged by the presence of the Pharisees. aSled the r

[216]

aimfc

■ illlWJj H i W II i

TWENTY-FOL'R HOl'RS WITH JESUS

question, and it was not without excuse. They had been trainrd
in the Baptist's ascetic school, and had been taught the hard-
ness of the rt-ligious life ; they remcn ')ered their master's lone-
liness and severe habits; they had heard Jesus' joyful teaching,
and seen His liberty of life; they now beheld Him at a publi-
can's feast, and sharing in the festivity, and they were honestly
perplexed. What a difference between the Messiah, if thi: were
indeed the Messiah, and His forerunner ! They spoke to fesus,
but they also shrank from a direct reflexion on Hi.nself "Why
do we and the Pharisees fast oft, but Thy disciples fast not?"
With them and their question Jesus dealt very kindly, for He
loved loyalty and He sympathised with their perplexity. " Do
not grudge My disciples their brief joy; it will soon be over.
By-and-by their bridegroom will depart (by the way of Cal-
vary), and then John and Peter will be sad enough. Besides,
your master had one message, and faithfully did he dischargj
it; I have another, and My word also must be fulfilled. Mine
IS new wine, and must be put in new bottles: wait a little, and
it will grow mellow." The Baptist's disciples might criticise
as they pleased; no friend of John could displease Jesus, Who
admired that second Elias beyond all living men.
Life that day was to be a sc.ies of interruptions, so that Jesus
had hardly begun to preach before He was compelled to heal,
and could not raise a brother man without being put on his
defence, and could not sit at a feast without explaining His
mission. As He was reassuring John's anxious followers, another
Pharisee has something of hot ii .portance to say to Him. He
is a chief man in the Church, and a magnate among religious
people— Jairus, the ruler of the synagogue. As it happened,
Jairus was not with his friends when they questioned Jesus'
right to forgive sins, nor when they blamed Him for His pres-
ence in Matthew's house. No doubt he was on occasion a keen
theologian, and took his share in controversy ; but he happened

[2'7]

\\]

■ ,

]li

/ ^

THE LIFE OF THE MASTE'^

to have more serious concerns that day. All nu ■. .s Ie,u,
o^ed on the angry sea. a iight was burnin'g in Jair^ \lJZ

ath ; " h ' ""'T r '"'"« 'y ''^ --»> "^ his little
Len M 7k ' °"' °"'^ '''"«'''"= ^'''J ■' been a boy it had
been called her son- who was very ill. „,ost likely of feve the
curse of the distrift, and not far from death. The^hoped tha

whth are the""" " ''g^t revealed the signs upon the'face

theTthel " "" '^^ "° '""^'^' ^"'J »he grief in

IJf 7" " '"'"'^^'^'^ ^y ^'^^ ""-'^"'^ despair; and so
they kept sad v.g.i as hour by hour life ebbed away Was it a
servant w .o heard the news of the mighty work'in P t ■

much f ' u"^^'''''^ ""•= P'^y^''^''*'^ """r-' If He d=d L

much for a reprobate like that. ..hose sins were known to the

He loved ch:ldren dearly? Perhaps the ruler migit not c to

the ^haH "" °' ^r^' ^^° -^' » h-«- and'con emned f
the Phar.sees-and yet. to save the life of the little maid! Why
d.u the woman not tell sooner ? what did she mean by ' • sum
menng about heretics? Heretics! is this a dav to st- H

scruples?Whatareall the creeds, and customs, and n^^^^^^^^^
ana Pharisees compared to love, and life, and my^gl,!!'

ho'uran^" " °^ ^"'- ^'-'-'y >'^- ^- -h^d i^-- t^

laZesf/rrr^-r' '■""""^- ^"'^ ^^^ ^isphy.
ladtenes ? i.cft at home, forgotten, by this ruler of the syna-

holt no! " "'''""^ "" ^'^^ -^^^"^ -^ - M^«>^-'»

cat h h m " h T"'^"' T:' '^ ^°^'- ''^"^ ^^"^'^^ Pharisees
catch h,m at the door, and begin to relate Jesus' last offence-

has something of his own to say. and he must reach Jesus with-

[218]

VIEW OF BETHLEHEM FROM EAST VALLEY

-1

I It

'\\

M.i.i/.v !>./.. I i/(»>|.i t/in ujir-iH 'lo 7;ii7

If
•I

'■ §■:

TWENTY-FOUR HOURS WITH JESUS

out delay. There Jesus is, beside Matthew, just as, a few weeks
ago, he had seen Jesus sitting at Simon's table, only the Master
is in a higher place. That scene comes up before him, and he
sees the woman at Jesus' feet. She was a wise woman, and
fared well that day. He will take her example — a ruler of the

synagogue? — no, a father with an only daughter a dying, or

dead, perhaps now dead. He falls down, he worships— his
friends called Jesus a blasphemer as he passed— and pleads
his case. "My daughter, my only daughter, twelve years of age,
on the point of death. If Thou wilt come and simply lay Thy
hand upon her, she will live." Jesus had remained in His place
through all the criticism on Himself; now in the sorrow of
the ruler. He arose at once, and the people accompanied Him
as He went to dispute with death the possession of Jairus'
daughter. It might seem as if Jesus should have had free course
on this errand of supreme need, but He must pay the penalty
of His pity, and be retarded at every step by human calamities.
In the thick of the crowd, as they passed through one of the
narrow streets, a woman, grievously afflitted by a wasting
disease of her sex and overcome by modesty, had courage only
to touch the fringe of Jesus' outer garment, as it came for a
moment within her reach. When He turned round and asked
who touched Him, His disciples were astonished ; they did not
understand. Why, many touched Him ! Not so. A score may
press on one by accident, but the touch of a single finger will
be different. It was with interaion ; it was individual ; it was a
prayer; it was a sign ; it was a secret between two. This woman
could not be hid; she was distinguished from the crowd first '
by her faith, and then by the Divine mercy. When the woman
is healed, Jesus is again at liberty to proceed.
The pause could not have been five minutes, to one man it
was five hours ; and so near are joy and sorrow in human life
that when the woman's heart was lightened with joy, a fool-

[219]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

ish servant told Jairus that his little maid was dead, and that
It was of no use to trouble the Master. With the alertness of
one whose heart was beating in sympathy with every human
bemg. Jesus heard the message, and bade Jairus to be of good
cheer for the hope of his heart was not to be disappointed.
Deach had stolen a march, and. already afraid, had hastened
to strike; but he would make little of this audacity. Jairus must
beheve. and possess his soul in patience; he was not going to
lose hjs daughter. And. with the crowd attending Him. Jesus
moved on to the supreme conflidl-between life and death
Already the women had begun the ceremony of wailing
Jesus commanded them to cease-they were celebrating the
yidory of death too soon ; they might soon be needed for sing-
ing. Meanwhile they and the neighbours must leave the room
, where the maid was lying, for it was a solemn adt to call back
a soul from the other world. Only the parents and His three
intimates among the twelve were present, when Jesus, stoop-
ing over the couch, said, in the kindly home-speech, as her
father would have spoken. "You are sleeping too long, and

wV"' "^t?^'"^ '° '" y°" '"""*= °" "« ^"- Darling, arise!"
Who could deny that gentleness? not Jairus' daughter. Who
could resist that power? not Death, although he be a king
Obedient to the command of love, the dear child opened her
eyes, and sat up. and the first face she saw was that of Jesus.
After this great encounter, which had crowned the labours of
the day. Jesus set out for home; but even yet His work was
not done, for blind men were waiting for His coming, so that
His return journey to Peter's house was marked by miracles.
And when He had reached its welcome shelter, exhausted in
soul and body, there was brought to Him one who was af-
flicted with a dumb devil, and he also must be delivered. At
last Jesus casts Himself on his poor couch and sleeps; but He
had driven sleep from other homes for gladness of heart. Across

[220]

TWENTY-FOUR HOURS WITH JESUS

the lake a man in His senses is at home again ; Matthew's'
heart is on fire, for the kingdom of God is come to him; a
mother is thanking God because her prodigal son is forgiven
and healed; again the light is burning in Jairus' house, where
they are still rejoicing, for this day God has visited His neople,
and Capernaum has seen His salvation.

[221]

!)l:

•tmamf

Chapter XXIV: The Home of
Bethany

HE Gospels show us the Master
in public, in the Temple of
Jerusalem, in the High Priest's
palace, in Pilate's Judgment
Hall, on the green hill out-
side the gate, or on that other
hill where He delivered His
sermon, or in the meadow
where He fed five thousand,
or in the synagogue of Caper-
naum, or on the lake where
the eager people crowded the shore. We see Him as a Prophet,
Reformer, Teacher, Martyr, as the Messiah and Redeemer.
But the same Gospels lift the veil from Jesus' private life, so
that we know some of the houses where He found a home
in the hard years of His ministry, and some of the friends
who comforted His heart. There was one house in Cana
where there would ever be a welcome for Him, because on
the chief day of life He had turned the water of marriage
joy into wine; another in Capernaum, because there he had
changed sorrow into gladness, and given a young girl back
to her father from the gates of death. He had stayed in John's
modest lodging at Jerusalem, as well as used the " Upper
Room" of a wealthier friend. There was a room in a publi-
can's house in Capernaum which was sacred because Jesus had
feasted there and sealed as in a sacrament the salvation of Levi ;

[223]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

and Zacchcus, to the last day of his life, saw the Master cross-
ing his threshold that night He slept in Jericho. The family
of St. Peter could have told many things of Jesus— a fifth
gospel of what He said and did at His ease— but the home
of the Gospels dearest to the Christian heart is that of Bethany
where the Master found a refuge from labour and persecution,'
and constant sympathy with Mary and Martha and their
brother Lazarus.

So brief and tantalising are the allusions in the Gospels, and
so keen and ingenious is our interest in personal details, that
various incidents have been woven together into what may be
called the romance of Bethany. This family first met Jesus, it
IS suggested, when He dined in their house in Capernaum,
at the invitation of Simon the Pharisee, who was afterwards
to appear as Simon the leper. He was then a hard and formal
Pharisee, of clean life and orthodox faith, who had his sus-
picions of Jesus, and desired to examine Him quietly at his
own table. His only son was present, Lazarus, a quiet and
thoughtful young man, who, on his father being laid aside by
the most hopeless and loathsome of diseases, became head of
his family, and, it is suggested, is known as the young ruler.
Watching the feast that day and noting what happened were
Simon's two daughters, Martha and Mary. One was unsenti-
mental and pradlical, like himself, with a strong sense of the
legal side of religion, and an impatience of its mystical spirit
The other was spiritual and imaginative, in whom a mother
now departed was living, and to her rarer soul the Pharisaic
side of religion was unsatisfying and repellent. If Jesus' pres-
ence an.i bearing deepened Simon's .suspicions and dislike, the
Master made converts of his family. Martha repented of the
inhospitality of her father's house, and was to repay with
usury the lack of service to Jesus that day. Mary was much
afFedted by the lowly devotion of the woman who was a sinner

[224]

THE HOME OF BETHANY

and will live to anoint Jesus also, but this time it will be His
head, and Lazarus assures himself of what he has dimly imag-
ined, that the secret of everlasting life was not within the
Ten Commandments,

Poor Simon, so high and n Igbty. so hard and self-sufficient
so unmerciful to sinners and so bitter against Jesus—a sad
thing was to befall him. He might treat Jesus as he pleased
with rudeness or with courtesy; but one visitor asks no man's
leave and takes no man's insolence, even though he be Simon
the Pharisee. Was it not a judgment on his exclusivencss and
hardness that this superstitious Pharisee was stricken with the
symbol of sin, the awful scourge of leprosy ? He would not allow
this woman to touch him, but now not only his Pharisaic
friends, but the very outcasts of the street, shunned his pres-
ence. He loathed the sight of this miserable in his house; but
Simon has to leave his house, his city, his associates, his chil-
dren and pass into seclusion. Did the unfortunate father of our
friends repent of his treatment of Jesus and seek His help
and was Simon the leper, healed now of his disease as well as
of his pride, present at the second anointing of Jesus in his
home of Bethany? We dare to hope that He who saved the
children failed not with the father, and tha. the woman who
was a sinner, and the man who was a Pharisee, met in the
Kingdom of God.

The son cannot throw off the spiritual fascination of the
Master, and becomes one of His unattached disciples, follov
ing and hearing Him, till one day he cast himself at Jesi
feet, seeking for an inheritance Simon could not leave him.
It is recorded that Jesus loved him, and we remember the
word, "Lazarus whom Thou lovest," and also that Jesus said
to him, "One thing thou lackest," as to Martha, who also
shared a strain of worldliness, "One thing is needful," which
arc at least striking coincidences. For the time he was not

["5]

'1» ,

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

minded to make the sacrifices Jesus required; it was too much
to give up his house in Galilee and that pleasant home at Beth-
any, with its garden on the slope of Olivet. The word of Jesus
was not strong enough ; but God has other messengers, more
imperative and autocratic, whom no one denies, and to whom
all things are possible. When Lazarus sickened and died, of all
his possessions he only retained one — the family grave in the
garden ; and when he rose igain, he was willing to hold all his
goods in trust ^or the Kingdom of God.
Whether w jan be certain in identifying Simon the Pharisee
with Simo' the leper, and the young ruler with Lazarus, the
Gospels at least give us three scenes in the family life of the
two sisters and their brother, in < ach of which Jesus is the « :n-
tral figure. The first is a pidture of quiet life, and shows us that
the Master was not always working at the highest pressure,
but had His hours of rest. Weary with the discussions of Jeru-
salem, which he had beei. visiting at a Feast, Jesus, Who had
no love for cities, escaped to Bethany for rest. The company
of good women was to Jesus, as to many 'nher delicate and
spiritual natures, a relief and refreshment, because He found
Himself in an atmosphere of emotion and sympathy.The sisters
were of different vpcs, although one in kindness and loyalty,
and their separate individualities stand out in relief from the
story. Martha was chiefly concerned that their Guest should
be served, and her desire was to compass Him with every ob-
servance of hospitality. She was full of plans for His comfort
and rest, so that for once He should have no care or burden.
Her energy and ingenuity, all inspired by love, were unceas-
ing, and showed the traces of that religious spirit which
knows no quietness, and expends itself in the works of charity.
It was inevitable that Martha should be impatient at times with
Mary, to whom this bustle of goodness was altogether foreign.
The joy of Mary was to sit at the Master's feet and drink in

[ 226 ]

THE HOME OF BETHANY

every word which fell from His lips, for here was that religion
which hides truth within the heart as great treasure. Martha
was concerned with what is external, Mary with what is spir-
itual ; and if the Master gently chided Martha, He was not
indifferent to her solicitude for Him; and if He praised Mary,
it was not for inaftion, but for inwardness. It is a grateful
thought that Jesus. Who was homeless and a waijderer, Who
was often hungry and thirsty, Who was soon to be shamefully
used and tortured, had Bethany with its two hostesses. One of
them cared for His body, and this is woman's work, so that
Martha is the patron saint of all good housewives, and careful
mothers and skilful nurses; and the other entered into His
thoughts and plans, so that Mary is the chief type of the
women who see visions and understand deep things, and sho'v
us the example of saintship. With:! this haunt of Jesus were
found the two people who muke the complement of religion
—Martha, the type of aftion; und Mary, of meditation. They
stand together in the great affr.irs of the Church tTt. Peter and
St. John, St. Francis and St. Dominic, Erasmus and Luther;
they are in our homes the eager, strenuous, industrious people
on whom the work falls, md the gentle, gracious, thoughtful
souls, who are the consolation and quietness of life. Between
the two kinds no comparison must be made, upon neither
must any judgment be passed; both are the friends of Jesus,
and the helpers of the world.

The second visit of Jesus to Bethany is associated with one of
those swift and unexpedled family calamities which affcd the
imagination by their poignant contrast, and invest life with a
profound seriousness. You come as a guest to some home, and
live beneath its kindly roof with ^reat satisfaction, because the
family is knit together in love, and their hearts are full of
charity; because conversation turns on noble themes and beau-
tiful things; because the common life is raised above vulgar

[227]

THE LIFE OF THE MAS! ER

ambition and personal ends, and is n led by the Spirit of Jesus.
It is with wistful regret you leave such a haven of peace and
put out again to sea, wher- 'he winds of rivalry and strife, and
controversy and malice, have full play, and lash the waters
into storm. Within a grateful memory you retain that quiet
interior, with its gentle inhabitants moving to and fro, intent
on homely duties, or sitting wrapt ir meditation, and pray
God's blessing on that lu)mc of sweet content. It seemeth to
you most fortunate that, amid this welter of sorrow and dis-
peace, one home should be immune from trouble, and should
anticipate the eternal calm of our Father's House — whtn
you learn, with a sh"ck of iismay, that Death has also visfted
this house, and has not gone away as you did, alone. God's
dark angel might have well spared this nook of rare felicity,
and His intrusion has the aspcd> of special cruelty. Your heart
rctui s to that home to mids the facv-; which was its sun, to ser
the shadow on the room which usee' to lie in soft sunshine,
to hear nothing but the sound of weeping. And we understand
in our measure what Jesus felt when news came to Him be-
yond Jordan, where He was secluding Himself from the Jews,
that sorrow had befallen the pleasant home of Bethany, and
that His friend Lazarus was dead.

The light does not shine so fully on Lazarus in his home as
on his sisters; but it is easy to understand his position. The
father of the family was either dead or in seclusion; the
mother must have been dead, and was a pious memory. In
such circumstances a brother takes a father's part to his sisters,
and they do their best to mother him. The charge of their
common possessions and the care of his sisters would fall on
Lazarus, and they could not have had a more honourable or
affectionate guardian. If we have not the incidents of his life,
we have a singular tribute to his charadler. It is not conclusive
that he was respeded by the religious par^y, who came

[228]

v4iS5f5^'

■,seiim-^,.^^-fMamm

THE HOME OF BETHANY

from Jerusalem to share the so- row of his sisters in their be-
reavement, for this might only mean that he was a Pharisee
of good standing. Nor can we, from our knowledge of human
nature, accept the devotitm of these good women as Hnal evi-
dence of Lazarus' excellence, for he was their only brother,
and kind to them What convinces us that Lazarus — who
(unless he be tht young ruler | says nt)t one word in all the
Gospels, and (unles,s he be the iwner of (icthscmane, who left
a linen under-garmcnt in the soldier's hands), does not perform
one adion in the (iospels — was a man of preeminent and
winning goodness, is the friendship of Jesus. Jesus' attachment
to this man was so marked and warm that the family took note
of it, and spake of it with jealous pride. Jesus loved them all;
but it was with emphasis Martha said, "him whom Thou
lovest"; and Jes-is said to the disciples who had caught the
same affedion, " Our friend Lazarus." These words of the sister
and the M:ister are the portrait and biography and judgment of
Lazarus. What crystal purity of soul, what silent understanding
of spiritual mysteries, what rare pcrfedtion of charader must
have been his ! What longed-for meetings these two must have
had when Lazarus would be watching in the garden for the
Master, and Jesus would kiss His friend and say, " Peace be
unto thee. Lazarus!" What long conferences, when the hours
were too short, and Jesus told to rhis quiet man all He hoped
to do and suffer! what longing, regretful partings when Jesus
left the garden to returi. to Galilee! All the commandments
have I kept from my youth up, said the young ruler to Jesus.
" Ye are my friends," said Jesus once to His disciples, "if ye
do whatsoever I command you"; and now He said, "Our
friend Lazarus sleepeth."

Within the home of Bethany some rapid and deadly sicl.ness
had run its familiar course. There would be the first stage,
when Lazarus did not seem to be himself, but knew not what

[229]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

Plll

ailed him — Mary, imagining home Hccrct care lor which iihe
reproached heri«elt", Martha inniKting on overwork, which she
had long prophchied would Munc day lay him aside. There
would come the oecond ntage, when La/aruM, at'tcr much pro-
teMting, would he obliged to yield before the rising t'ever and
the liiiiters would give all their Ktrength and love to hiK service
— Mary with delicate, grateful attcntionN, Martha with many
ingenious expedients. During this time Lazarus would speak
as if the sickness was a th'- of a day, and the sisters would
cheer one another with fan*. of his bettcrnrss. With the next
stage all hopefi ', kindly make-believe would be at an end, and
they would know that it was already a tight with death for
Lazarus, when physicians and remedies and love itself seemed
poor opponents to the dread merci!' s power. And then the
end came, when two broken-hearted, clinging women, pray-
ing, watching, weeping, saw their brother slip from their
handi) and fall asleep. It was the tragedy which is adled sooner
or later in every human home, but which never grows com-
monplace, which ever retains its austere and awful grandeur.
It is in these black strait:s of life that we realise our friends —
the people whom we trust with all our soul, to whr~ •; turn
with hope for assistance — and in their <xtremit sisters

thought of Jesus. They did not ask Him to come, cy sent
no moving description of Lazarus' weakness; it wa. >:nough
to let Jesus know that His friend was s' .k, and He wuuld do
what was best. There was that perfedl understanding and sym-
pathy of friendship which does not dream of appeals nor
doubt of succour. On one si the Master used the liberty of
friendship, and, instead of has . ig to Bethany, He tarried till
He knew, from the very nature of the illness, that His friend
was sleeping in the bosom of God. Jesus had His reason for
delay, that He might teach His disciples of all ages a lesson
of faith and that He might give Death himself a lesson in

[230]

THE HOME OF BETHANY

humility. Twice Je«u« had tried cnncluiiom with thii unruly
vaual — when he claimed a little maid for her father, and
called back a son for his mother, who wa* a widow. Tho«e
rebuffn had rankled in the mind of Death, and he must have
his revenge. He had dared greatly in this third encounter, and
had attempted to rob Jesus himself. He must be taught his
place. Let the enemy win his vidtory and make it secure; let
him glory for four days, and boast that none could now spoil
him of his prisoner, h will be the more crushino- humiliation
for Death, the more splendid trophy for Jesus, en Lazarus
hears the voice of the Son of God and hurries forth to meet
his Friend.

When Jesus came at last to the help of His friends, it was char-
aderistic of Martha that on the first rumour of Him she should
rush to meet Him; and on His comforting her with the assur-
ance that Lazarus would yet live, should declare her faith in
terms of the Pharisaic dodtrine of the Rcsurreftion. It was also
characteristic of Mary, who did not love public scenes, that she
should remain in the house. As soon as Jesus began to unfold His
idea of everlasting life, which was something Death could not
touch, Martha, without any further word, sent for Mary.When
Jesus handled deep things, it was the same as calling for Mary.
As He came to the place where we lays< often our love, our life,
our hope, Jesus was stirred in 'he depths of His soul. He had
sympathised with others, fathers and m- • lers in their losses,
now death had rificd His oM-n heurt ; and as He thought of
Lazarus lying unconscious, cold, coTupting, the tragedy of
human life overcame Jesus, and He, who rather concealed
than paraded emotion, and had Himself rebuked the wailing
over Jairus' daughter, wept aloud in that garden after such a
lamentable fashion that the Pharisees, friends of the family
who were present, said: "Behold, how He loved him!"
"Lazarus," said Jesus in full, as He stood before the barred

[231]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

prison of death, "this is the first time I have visited Bethany,
and that thou hast not come to meet Me. It is not Bethany
without thee; I wait and weary for My friend; I have not many
friends, and I cannot spare thee, Lazarus. Thou hast gone on a
long journey, and hast seen strange sights ; but thou hast not gone
so far but My voice will reach thee, and there will be no sight
so welcome as thy face. His is a strong hand which holds thee,
and no man dare disobey his word; but the key of Death's
stronghold is at my girdle, and I am his Lord. Before I go to
my agony and the cross I must see thee, Lazarus. It is thy
Friend who calls — Lazarus, come forth !" And Death had no
power to prevent the meeting of Jesus and His friend.
Once more we see Jesus with His friends, and now the cir-
cumstances are less harrowing, and still more beautiful. As
Jesus has arrived for the Passover — His last feast before all
things should be fulfilled — He goes to stay with them during
Passion Week, so that, whatever may be the controversy and
dispeace of the day in Jerusalem, He might cross the Mount
of Olives, and rest in Bethany. To celebrate His coming, and
as a sacrifice of thanksgiving for a great deliverance, the family
give a feast, and each member thereof fills a natural place.
Lazarus, the modest head of the household, and now sur-
rounded with a mysterious awe, sits with Jesus at the table;
Martha, as was her wont, was superintending the feast with
an access of zeal ; and Mary was inspired of the Spirit of Grace,
and did a thing so lovely and so spiritual that it will be told
unto all time, and will remain the picture of ideal devotion.
With a wealthy family it was customary to have in store a
treasure of fragrant ointment for the honouring of the dead;
but there came into Mary's mind a more pious use for it. Why
pay the homage for a dead body, and render it when the per-
son can receive no satisfaftion ? Far better that in their life-
time our friends should know that they are loved, and should

[232]

M-iflteimfe i..

itKif;."!" '/.:;■

THE HOME OF BETHANY

be braced for suffering by the devotion of loyal hearts. Before
H''s enemies have crowned Him with thorns, Mary will pour
the spikenard on His head, and before they have pierced His
feet with nails she will anoint them with her love, so that the
fragrance of the precious ointment would be still on His hair
when He hung upon the cross.

The odour of the ointment filled the room, and four people
passed judgment. One understood and condemned — Judas, who
was arranging the betrayal of Jesus, and had lost an increase for
his bag. One did not understand, but condemned — a Pharisee
of Jerusalem, who did not know that the plot was so ripe, but
hated to see Jesus honoured. One did not understand, but ap-
proved, and that was an apostle — say, St. Peter — who could
not believe that Jesus would be crucified, but who rejoiced that
He should receive any honour. One understood and approved,
and that was the Master, Who, with the shadow of the cross
falling on His soul, was comforted by a woman's insight and a
woman's love. Her own heart taught her the secret of sacrifice;
her heart anticipated the longing for sympathy; and so beauti-
ful in its grace and spiritual delicacy was her aft that Jesus de-
clared it would be told to her praise wherever the Gospels were
read.

The family of Bethany will ever have a place in the heart of
Jesus' disciples because they made a home for Jesus in the days
of His ministry, and because they compassed Him with tender
offices of friendship during the strain of Passion Week. Very
soon He would be done with earthly homes and the land in
which He had lived as a wayfaring man, but for ever this Friend
of man, hungering for love and fellowship, passes down the
paths of life, and knocks at the door of the heart. Blessed they
who hear His voice and give Him welcome, who are not
ashamed of Him or of His cause, who serve Him with their
best, and pour upon His head the riches of their love !

[233]

"-3-.- ,-^-:

ItJ U IJl l *

Chapter XXV : The Conspiracy
Against Goodness

O one with a healthy mind can
read the Gospels without be-
ing torn between admiration
for the grace of Jesus and in-
dignation at the persecution of
His enemies; but let him make
at every turn a careful distinc-
tion between the people and
the rulers. The people, who
counted John Baptist a proph-
et, and would not allow a word
to be said against him, gave an immediate welcome to Jesus ,
they heard Him gladly in temple and synagogue, on hillside
or lake shore; they called Him by their names of honour, and
thanked God that He had visited His people; they gave Him
a triumphal entry to Jerusalem with palms and hosannas, and
they were so loyal that the rulers da: .' not make a public
arrest of Jesus. No doubt the fanatical mob of the capital was
too subservient to the rulers, and a spasm of jealousy might
for an hour affeft a place ike Nazareth ; but it remains a fad:
pregnant with instrudlion and encouragement that when the
Perfedt Goodness once appeared on earth the common people
recognised His likeness and did Him homage; and since that
day, as often as a man of honest heart and pure life and unselfish
ideals has appealed to the people, they have responded with
generous enthusiasm.

[235]

i
^1

.U'

. !

I .'

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

!t was the ruling class in the Jewish Church and state, the
men who held high rank, or were the scholars of the day,
or had huge possessions, priests, rabbis, millionaires, who were
the enemies of the Master. They looked askance at Jesus and
suspefted His ends, and kept a watch on Him, and cross-ques-
tioned Him and plotted against Him, and suborned false wit-
nesses for His trial, and bought the soul of a traitor, and schemed
and toiled and lied, and at last succeeded in nailing Him to the
cross. Among this class we know there were some good and
honest men, and there may have been many more than we
know: some of Jesus' relentless foes may also have had reasons
for their conduft which satisfied their consciences, and many
did what we in their circumstances would have considered
ourselves justified in doing. However that may be, it remains
another startling and suggestive fad that when the Pc. .^ft
Goodness made His appeal to the chief men of the Jewish
people, they answered with contempt, hatred, and death, and that
from that day till now some of the noblest of the Master's messen-
gers have been sent to prison and death by priests and kings.
When Jesus made His first appearance in Jerusalem and
cleansed the Temple, He distinctly alarmed the rulers, and
He then placed in their hands the evidence which was to be
used for His condemnation. No overt adtion was taken against
Jesus then, and no plan was made; but ecclesiastical corpora-
tions are very jealous and sensitive, gifted with an unfailing
scent of danger, and a keen instindl of self-preservation. If the
priests allowed matters to rest, so long as Jesus confined Him-
self to Galilee and did not touch the Temple income, the
Pharisees considered it desirable to follow with vigilance the
proceedings of this new Prophet. As a spider spins his web in
hope that he may catch his prey, so did the party of the Phari-
sees take counsel together in the capital, and thence, by many
an agent and many a question, they laid the toils for Jesus in

[236]

THE CONSPIRACY AGAINST GOODNESS

Galilee. When Jesus brushed aside their flimsy cobwebs, the
Pharisees l.egan to show their hand openly in Jerusalem;' and
at last, when Jesus could not be browbeaten, but rather was
making bolder claims, they fell back on the last weapon of their
kind; they closed His mouth on the cross. So the conspiracy
against Jesus had three stages, and the first was controversy, and
with honest discussion the Master had no quarrel. There are
seasons when the chief afl^airs of life are cast into debate, and
when to withdraw oneself were to deny truth. This confli<ft
not only separates truth from error, so that truth being assailed
is the more radiantly vindicated, and error masquerading as
truth has the mask openly torn away, but the arena of argu-
ment also tries the character of the combatants. By this severe
test the Evangel of Jesus was thrown into bolder relief and its
excellepce more perfectly revealed; our Master was splendidly
justified, and the Pharisees hopelessly condemned. We are not
accustomed to think of Jesus as a controversialist; we had rather
hold Him in our imagination as a Prophet, a Saviour, a Friend;
but Jesus had the courage of His faith ; and if He was silent be-
neath the scourging of His body. He knew how to scourge
them who assailed the gospel. Opposed to the most determined,
unscrupulous, unreasonable and ingenious of antagonists, the
Master was never taken aback or put to confusion, never missed
the intelledual weakness of His adversary, or failed to cham-
pion His own cause, never appealed to prejudice or confused
a special pleader with an honest enquirer. One can conceive
nothing more admirable than His delicate humour. His quick-
ness of repartee, His courtesy of speech, and His moral eleva-
tion. While His life v>;is a series of personal insults, privations,
humiliations, it was also a series of intelleftual and moral vic-
tories, so that His opponents were defeated every time in open
debate, and only succeeded when they betook themselves to
brute force.

[237]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

Upon their side th«* tadtics of the Pharisees were very humil-
iating. They cond.. .ended to dog the steps of Jesus with spies,
so that He could hardly go to a house without seeing a de-
tedtive at the table, or open His mouth in a synagogue but in
front of Him some agent made up his report. His slightest word
was twisted to another meaning, and His most innocent adlion
perverted to an evil appearance. This ordeal of spies was not
the least of Jesus' trials, and under such vexatious espionage
any ordinary man, however unself-conscious and sweet-tem-
pered, would have grown nervous and have lost self-controU
— would have become hard and self-deliant. We are filled
with disgust as we realise that the Master was watched as He
entered a house, as He sat at meat, as He went through the
fields, till He recognised the faces of the detectives, caught
their expression, noted the signs they exchanged, and knew
what they were thinking. The air in which Jesus worked even
in Galilee was thick with acrid criticism and low suspicion,
and from time to time there was an explosion, in which it was
the Pharisees and not Jesus who suffered.
Social ritualism, which was a fetish with the Pharisees, and
which Jesus regarded with contempt, afforded the occasion of
one sharp, poignant collision. Jewish religion had enjoined,
among other burdensome customs,an amazing rite of handwash-
ing, not for cleanliness but for ceremony .There were regulations ,
regarding the kind of water to be used, the vessels from which
it had to be poured, the persons who were to pour the water,
and the extent to which the pouring was to go. It was solemn
fooling; but just on that account the Pharisees attached more
importance to this childish ritual than to the essence of reli-
gion; and when Jesus' disciples brushed aside such trivialities,
the Pharisees gave Him the alternative of condemning His
disciples or denying the tradition of the elders. Jesus was very
indignant at their moral effrontery, and, after His habit. He

[238]

■'^ST"*^'

THE CONSPIRACY AGAINST GOODNESS

asked them a question. They wished to know why His dis-
ciples ate with unwashen hands. Would they tell Him why
they, the Pharisees, broke the commandments of Moses, which
was a much more serious matter? Did not Moses straitly com-
mand them to honour their father and mother? and now, if
their parents asked for assistance, they replied that the money,
or whatever it was, had beeu devoted to a religious use. It was
Corban, and could not be given. Here, if you please, was hypoc-
risy — to leave your mother to starve, and then complain about
unwashen hands. Who was justified — a man with a clean heart
and unwashen hands, or a man with hands washed according
to forty rules and with a hard, loveless, impure heart? From tlie
veriest absurdity of ritual the Master lifted the discussior to
the highest level, and asserted the supremacy of the soul from
which life flowed as from a fountain.

Another subjed on which the religious party of Jesus' day
were half crazy was the keeping of Sabbath, on which they
had laid down so many regulations that the day had become
a yoke instead of a rest. As Jesus walked one Sabbath along a
path beside the ripe corn, with spies on his track, the disciples,
being hungry, plucked and ate some grains. As this was double
labour — rubbing off the husk as well as plucking — the Phari-
sees — men ever of the most scrupulous conscience were

gravely concerned, and challenged Jesus. He met them first
on their own ground, showing that David ate the shewbread
although it belonged to the priests, because life is more than
law, even according to rabbis; and, then, having put Himself
under the law of necessity, Jesus took wider ground. Whether
was Sabbath intended to be a bondage to man, so that he would
be afraid to move, or to be a help, so that he might rest and
worship? Jesus' teaching on the Sabbath confirmed the darkest

suspicions ofhisfoes, and was not forgotten. Face to face with His
critics on this most dangerous ground, Jesus asserted the free-

[239 J

I
f

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

dom of His disciples from every tradition of man. For His
heresy on the Sabbath even more than for His association with
sinners and His Messianic claims, Jesus was hunted to death.
One other encounter in Galilee illustrates the venom of the
Pharisees and the graciousness of Jesus. The poor Pharisees,
whom one must pity a little, were so irritated and daunted by
Tesus' miracles that they were at their wit's end for a plausible
explanation. If they asked Him for a sign, He would not give
it, and would call them an adulterous generation. If people
made much of His miracles, the Master would belittle them
as a ground of faith; but yet there they were — a very awk-
ward fadt indeed for the other side. It was to be expedled that
the foolish, gaping people, ever carried away by some sensation,
and forgetful of their reliable instructors, would be won over
to this false Prophet by His wonders. What was to be done?
And in keeping with the spirit of the day the Pharisees insinu-
ated that Jesus cast out devils by the power of Beelzebub. Jesus,
they meant to say, was in league with Satan, and for base ends
had his assistance. It was one of those malicious, clever sugges-
tions which serve with ignorant people, and by repetition are
apt to colour the mind. What if this Teacher, so pleasant of
speech and so mighty in deeds, should after all be an emissary
of the Evil One in disguise ? Once the suspicion was lodged in
the mind it would do its own work, as a subtle, virulent poison
in the blood, and every aft and word of Jesus would be dis-
counted. After His usual candid fashion, which was most eni-
barassing to crooked adversaries, the Master faced the slander
boldly and brought it to the test of reason, with the people as
judges. It was said that He was in league with the Prince of
Devils, and drove out devils by authority of their prince. Then
Beelzebub had turned against his own subjefts and his own
cause, and the kingdom of evil was divided in two. Dared they
hope for so fortunate an issue — devils castin" out devils, dis-

[240]

:^L.

WHKN IT IS EVENING

When it is evening, ye say, It will be fiiir wwthcr: for the sky is
red.— Matthew, XVI. 2.

i*K\

'sei-^- - ^

.)/ii/: iv I ''I II /•iM//

.'. .If 7. ,/r,iUiRt/ Am

:^,.

i 1

v..

'Jk V^VK-^SB." T.\"'

Ilf

ll^f

-^:,^^

THE CONSPIRACY AGAINST GOODNESS

eaie liealing disease, madiieM curing madnen? Was there ever
•uch unreason' Besides, did not the Pharisees claim to have
power of exorcising evil spirits? and from whom had they re-
ceived their authority? Was it not more reasonable to conclude
that if any one beat down evil in any form he must be the ser-
vant of God and have his reinforcement from on high? And
If that be true, then it was surely blasphemy in the highest
degree to assert that the Divine energy, working through any
one Jesus or another, for the highest ends, was an emanation
of the Evil One; and for this blasphemy, because it hardened
the heart and blinded the eyes, there could be no forgive-
ness. It was the final and hopeless contempt of the Divine
Goodness.

It was soon evident to every person that the breach between
the Pharisees and Jesus was past healing, and that a crisis was at
hand. Their worst suspicions of Him had been confirmed by
His teaching in Galilee, and He had not taken any pains to
conciliate tJ^em. He had worsted the agents of the ruling party
in a series of encounters, and they were not the men to for-
give or forget. So long as Jesus kept in Galilee He was safe,
since He had turned the heads of the illiterate provincials • so
soon as He cam. to the capital the tables would be turned.
This revolutionary Prophet and despiser of authority would
then be in the grip of the council, whose servants could arrest
Hira, and who, with the fanatical mob of Jerusalem at its com-
mand, could do as they pleased with Him. Many were there-
fore very curious whether Jesus would attend the Feast of
Tabernacles in the autumn before His death, and what would
happen if He did. Upon their part. His enemies had resolved
to shift the battleground from the country, where Jesus was
beyond their reach, to the city where thtv would have Him
at their mercy. Upon His part He might refuse to give them
this advantage and intrench Himself in Galilee, leaving the

[241]

•1 .

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

council to arrest Him among His friends. In that case the
Pharisees would point out that He could be no Prophet of God
who declined to meet them in the Holy City and skulked in
out-of-the-way places. If He went up to thecapital, He would al-
most certainly be arrested and His work be ended ; if He did not,
lie would be accused of cowardice and His influence be under-
mined. The Pharisees awaited the issue with some confidence,
tempered only by fear of the incalculable personality of Jesus.
It was natural that in this excitement over His movements a
good deal of advice should be given to the Master. His own
family, by which we understand His elder brethren, who were
at this time very candid friends indeed, and did not believe in
Him, insisted that He should go, and stated their ground with
frankness. If He really was what He claimed, He must come
forth openly; no one could be accepted as a prophet who
shirked the ordeal of Jerusalem. We may very well imagine
that His disciples would add their wisdom, as they had done
on other occasions, and that they would urge Him to avoid the
capital. Peter would vie with Thomas in entreaties of safety
and prophecies of danger. Jesus heard His friends, and followed
a plan whose wisdom is apparent to the after-look. He did not
go up to the capital with the multitude, because this would
have meant an outburst of enthusiasm and a serious collision.
He had no doubt about the end, but it must not come at this
Feast: He had still a part of His gospel to give and it was
more fitting that He should make His great exodus at Pass-
over. Nor did He absent Himself and lose the opportunity of
meeting His enemies in their fastness. When the last of the
pilgrims had passed, Jesus could go up to the capital unnoticed;
and when the Pharisees, half desiring, half fearing, were en-
quiring, " Where is He?" and the people were arguing about
Him in groups, the Master appeared quietly in the Temple and,
as was the way with rabbis, began to teach.

[242!

THE CONSPIRACY AGAINST GOODNESS

scene ,f .h^ next few days in the Temple courts, for nowhere
na ,c^, ever been a people so intense in religion, and nowhere
a P ,phet .o aug.... As one reads the Fourth Gospel, whose
gra, m touche:. p ove an eye-witness, he can almost see the
mass _';..;,,, s.ething with excitement, listening to Jesus

fo min""'' !. r '"^'"^ '"^" '^"^^'•-^' '^--l^. --Its.
'rZ^""'"'; '""'r"^ ^S^'"' ^"^'^'"g hither and thither
speakmg gesturulatmg. shouting. Jesus in turn vindicates Hi
m.s.on from God defends Himself against the charge of Sab-
bath-breakmg challenges His enemies to prove Him a sinner
exp am H.s relation to Moses, asserts His parity to Abraham,'

devU afd • l^ "" '"•■" '""'• "^ '' ^"''^ ^h^t H« has a
devil and is a Samaruan; He is asked whether He purposes to

commit suicide; it is suggested that He will go to' the Ge^!

tiles; It IS pointed out that He must be an impostor; once the

wo:^ h? ^ ':t'T "''^'^ " '''-' "- '-" the people
would have laid hands on Him; once they would haveLned
Him. Some said He was a good man. others that He deceived

uir? u""'^'""'" '"'""''^ ^° h^"^^^ that Jesus was the
Me^iah. others that He could not be. because He came from

oftiiifuror '''''' '^""^ '' ^° "p' -' "^ ^^ ^'^ --

Among this multitude there are three parties, and amid this
Babe one can detedt various tendencies. There is the party
of rulers consisting of the priests and Pharisees and social mag-
nates, who are generally called the Jews. With very few ex-
ceptions, their minds were made up. and they were determined
o give no quarter to Jesus. They kept their hand on the pulse of
he people, and as soon as they felt the slightest enthusiasm to
the Master they took steps to arrest it. The second party was
the citizens of Jerusalem, who were very keen and bigoted, but
who were not beyond persuasion, who were puzzled as to the

[243]

i'l

fi.

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

claims of Jesus and shaken about His reported heresy, saying,
"Do the rulers know, indeed, that He is the very Christ?"
And the last party was the people collefted from all quarters
of the Holy Land and from the outlands of the Gentil, ., who,
although they lost their heads once or twice, were, on the
whole, favourable to Jesus and, in some cases, believed on
Jesus upon reasonable grounds, saying, "When Christ cometh,
will He do more miracles than those which this Man hath
done?"

While the debate goes on with constant changes of popular
feeling and accumulated vidtories of Jesus, the council hold
meetings within the Temple precindls to consider how they
can best deal with Jesus now that He is within their reach,
and reap in safety the harvest of their opportunity. One
gathers that they were perfedlly willing to go to the last ex-
tremity, but that they considered it dangerous at the present
moment. By-and-by, when things were ripe, they would rid
themselves of this troubler for ever; but in the meantime they
would see what threatening would do. He had been very bold
in Galilee when it was a question of their detedlives. What
would He do face to face with the council in all the massed
authority of priest, rabbi, and elder? They send their officers
to arrest the Master, and they wait for His appearance at their
bar with nervous impatience. Their servants return alone and
apologetic. Against the spiritual majesty of Jesus' words what
availed earthly weapons? The Master hath His witnesses in all
quarters, and the officers declared what their rulers had felt in
their hearts, "Never man spake like this Man." It was very
humiliating for the angry Sanhedrists; and as is the way with
mean-spirited men, since they had failed to browbeat Jesus,
they began to scold their servants, contemptuously enquiring
whether they also had been deceived, and bidding them re-
member that none of their masters had believed in this Gali-

[244]

THE CONSPIRACY AGAINST GOODNESS

lean. As for the multitude, if the officers were thinking of them,
let them understand that the people were of no account. And in
the bitterness of this first check the insolence of the narrowest
men on earth, priests and pedants, allowed itself full vent. "This
people," they said, "which know not the law is a^-cursed."
They spoke too hastily in their heart, these baffled councillors,
for they were not all of one mind. No sooner had the servants
been rebuked and had retired than a witness for the Master
appeared among the rulers themselves. We may fairly assume
that Nicodemus had watched with disjjust the policy of detec-
tion and the plan of coercion, but in face of the hopeless ma-
jority he had made no sign. The censure of the servants had
been a challenge to his honesty ; and although Nicodemus was
not by nature or habit a bold man, he was a self-respefting and

honourablecouncillor.Thecouncilhadforgotten themselves and
were ading in a way unworthy of any legal court. They were
treating Jesus as if He were a criminal, but as yet He had never
been tried. He had not even been charged. The Jewish law
was exaft and merciful; but the council had ceased to be
'• 1; ::s, and had fallen to the level of a rabble of partisans.
. uch disgust, Nicodemus rebuked them for their fanati-
Ci ■ .;d illegality. " Doth our law judge any man, before it
hear him, and know what he doeth?" This grave, unanswer-
able censure broke the patience of the council, which ad-
vised Nicodemus, a master in Israel, with insulting emphasis,
to study the Scriptures, and then, exhausted with its own
emotion, broke up in confusion.

As if this mortification was not enough, the council, or a sec-
tion of it, must needs bring upon themselv.ts, on a following
day, a still worse humiliation. Jesus, full of pity towards human
suffering, and indifferent, as usual, to human tradition, not only
opened the eyes of one born blind, which was embarrassing,
but did it on the Sabbath, which was exasperating. Certain

[245]

01 '

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

1^ .'^

■U- ,i

■,(•■*'

officious neighbours brought the man before the Pharisees,
v/ho were sitting as a committee of council, and the Pharisees
p'unged into the case greedily, only to experience a series of
disasters.They began with a division among themselves, which
shows that Nicodemus was not alone; some considering that
a man must be bad who broke the Sabbath, and some conclud-
ing that a man could not be bad who did such miracles. They
got no satisfadlion from the parents of the patient, who con-
fined themselves to giving very decided evidence that their son
was born blind; and aS regards how he came to see, they sug-
gested in a surly tone that they had better ask himself. And
then the man proved the most unmanageable witness of all,
for he turned upon the council, and asked them whether their
curiosity about the miracle meant that they were going to be-
come Jesus' disciples, which was very provoking; and he also
argued that Jesus could not be a sinner, since He did such
works. Things came to such a pass that the irritated council,
put to confusion now by a beggar, lost self-control for the
second time. They told the unfortunate man that he had been
born in sin, and promptly excommunicated him. This incident
closed the affair of the Feast of Tabernacles, which had been
a victory for Jesus at every point. It had been intended to arrest
Him, and the council's own servants would not touch Him.
He had met every criticism, and silenced the Pharisees in their
own field. He had largely won over the people, and had ad;u-
ally sown discord in the council itself. He had come up in
danger; He went down lu safety ; and we may conclude that
the council were glad to know that the Master had left the
capital.

It is not, however, to be supposed that this magnificent vindi-
cation of Jesus' position had conciliated the rulers or shaken
their determination. On the contrary, they now realised that
this was no provincial teacher whom they could daunt with

[246]

^HK v WS^^ ' I

-^— — .'■-;''.".yj

THE CCNSPIRACY AGAINST GOODNESS

their learning ana reduce to silence by threats. Up to the
present He had never once yielded, and they had never once
succeeded. They had attacked Him in the provinces, and everv
village in Galilee was ringing with their defeats. They had
challenged Him to come to Jerusalem, and the authority of
the council had been openly shaken There was not room in
the land for the Pharisees and Jesus; one or other must gain the
final mastery within the next six months, and the Pharisees
did not propose to abdicate. One course had been before their
minds for some time, as Jesus had learned, and tney were now
resolved to pursue it to the end without faltering. They had
made one mistake by rashness; they would be more cautious in
their next move; by one plan or another they would accom-
plish the death of Jesus. The date may have been unfixed, but
their resolution passed into execution when Jesus came lo
Bethany and raised Lazarus from the dead. It no doubt seemed
to the Pharisees that the war was to be carried into their own
country. If Jesus was to perform the greatest of His wonders
at the gates of Jerusalem, and, reinforced by such popular evi-
dence, appeal to the people in the capual. He would be irre-
sistible. What they had to do must be done quickly, and the
Pharisees completed their plan. "From that day forth they
took counsel together for to put Him to death."
When any person in authority is obliged to pass sentence of
death on a fellow man, because that man has committed some
ghastly crime, even the most hardened judge will have a sense
of serious responsibility. Hi^ anxiety will be deepened if the
offence be political and deat'i is to be inflidted as the last pro-
tedt'on of organised society against anarchy. But the extreme
exercis^ of judicial power is taking away a man's life, not be-
cause he has injured his neighbour or shattered society, but
because he has made a mistake in his theological thinking.
No other human adt is so daring as the slaying of a heretic, and

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nothing was ever done on earth so awful as the crucifixion of
Jesus. Yet if the opponents of Jesus had been honestly con-
vinced in their minds that He deserved death, and had tried
Him after a straightforward fashion, as men obeying their
conscience with sadness, we should have had a colossal adt of
religious folly, but the name of Pharisee had not been exe-
crated unto all generations.

The most ghastly feature in the crime of Calvary was its ab-
solute dishonesty from beginning to end; and although the
guilt must be divided, yet the weight rests on the religious
party. As regards the Romans they had never heard of Jesus
— a preacher of the Jews, who was careful to keep Himself
clear of politics — had He not been forced on their procurator
and created an embarrassment which Pilate could not shake off.
The poor, simple people, if left to themselves, had honoured
and obeyed Jesus, and they saw no evil in Him till their minds
were poisoned. And the very priests, although certainly there
was never any love lost between them and a prophet, had not
enough interest in religion to interfere with Jesus, if some one
had not appealed to their self-interest and worked on their jeal-
ous Tears, till they were goaded into frenzy and forced into
the front of the proceedings against Jesus. It was the Pharisees
who had been first the critics, then the clanderers, and in the
end became the persecutors of Jesus, and to attain their pur-
pose they used every other party in the most cunning and un-
scrupulous fashion. They were such masters in the lower art
of politics that they made their hereditary opponents do their
disreputable work in the end, and on the last day of the tragedy
the Pharisees stood in the shadow, while the worldly and dig-
nified priests worked themselves into a frenzy and screamed
for the death of Jesus. The murder of Jesus was an intrigue
of the Pharisees, and the most shameless and adroit conspiracy
in the annals of religion.

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Between the members of the high priestly families, who were
Sadducecs, and the religious party, who were the Pharisees,
there raged a bitter feud, which was never laid to rest, and
whose healing was hopeless. The Sadducees paid no attention
to the oral tradition, and the Pharisees were inclined to mag-
nify it above the written law. The Sadducees did not believe
in the future life, and the Pharisees had an elaborate doftrine
of heaven and hell. The Sadducees were quite contented with
the foreign yoke, while the Pharisees hated the very sight of
the Roman eagles. The Pharisees loathed and despised the Sad-
ducees as heretics, unbelievers, unpatriotic, worldly — a parasite
growth on the national life, sucking both its substance and its
spirit. So keen was the feeling within the Sanhedrim between
the two parties — the Right and the Left of the Jewish com-
monwealth — that a spark might cause a conflagration. On one
occasion St. Paul, who was well acquainted with the jealousies
and animosities of the two wings, appealed to the Pharisees for
their support, declaring that he was called in question concern-
ing the resurredlion of the dead ; and disciple of Jesus though
he was, and dissenter from his former friends, the Pharisees,
at the sound of this battle cry, rallied to his side. It might
almost be assumed that what the one party proposed the other
would oppose, and one can hardly imagine the circumstances
in which the Pharisees and the Sadducees would be united. It
certainly would not be the faith of the Church nor the safety
of the State. As a matter of fadl they only adted together once
in an alfair of the first importance, and it remains the lasting
disgrace of the Pharisees that they forgot for a moment their
quarrel with the priests, in which the Pharisees were at their
best, and patched up some kind of alliance which was based
on dishonour, that with the aid of infidels and loose livers
they might crucify Jesus Christ.

While the Pharisees girded at the Master in Galilee they did

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not need the aid of the council; and when they did the.r best
to frighten Jesus in Jerusalem, it is likely that they rei ived
only an informal saniflion, although at this stage priests begin
to appear among His enemies; but as soon as they set them-
selves seriously to secure His death, the Pharisees required the
support of the whole council, and they could not movi with-
out the Sadducees. Jesus could not be condemned by the sec-
tion of the Pharisees; or if He could, they would not be able
to carry the sentence into effeft. If for no other reason, they
must take the priests with them, th-'.t the Sadducees might use
their influence with the civil power, since with the Romans
the Pharisees had no dealings. It was not an easy task to enlist
the services of the Sadducees, and light their hatred against
Jesus. No Sadducce cared one shekel whether or not Jesus
held the traditions of the elders, or kept the Sabbath, or washed
His hands before meat, or wrought miracles by His own power
or that of Beelzebub. Unto the Sadducees He was only another
of those ignorant fanatics who went about discussing subjedls no
man of the world considered to be worth a moment's consider-
ation; He and the Pharisees might wrangle together to their
hearts' content. One point only had the priestly party of that
day at heart — that there should be no foolish disturbance
which would afford an excuse for the interference of the Roman
government, and, of course, which came very much to the
same thing, that they should be secured in the enjoyment of the
Temple dues. When we find at the first formal meeting of the
Sanhedrim in the case of Jesus that what has excited that un-
scrupulous opportunist, Caiaphas, is the fear lest Jesus should
excite an insurredkion, and when the charge brought before
the Sanhedrim at the trial was a threat to meddle with the
Temple, one sees the crafty hand of the Pharisees. What had
become of the accusations of heresy which had been so largely
used to bias the people, and which from the Pharisees had a

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colour of sincerity? They are entirely dropped, and instead
charges are made with which the Pharisees could have little
or no sympathy. We have a second illustration of the unprin-
cipled trickery of a religious party when the Pharisees kept
silence on the dodrine of Jesus, which He did hold and they
did disapprove, and assigned to Him revolutionary ideas which
He diu not hold, and which they would have approved.
The Pharisees must also be held responsible for an incident
of singular baseness in the prosecution of Jesus, in which the
priests may have been the adors but the Pharisees must have
been the contrivers, and that was the use of Judas Iscariot
None knew the popular feeling better than the Pharisees, and
none would more earnestly dissuade the priests from a collision
with Jesus. He must be taken quickly, not in the Temple or
any public place, else there would be a riot, in which the
priests would, perhaps, suffer most, but in which the popular
power oi the Pharisees might also be shaken. Let Him be
once arrested, and the people find Him a prisoner, and thev
would accept the situation. It was the occasion for a swift
secret stroke, and if that were well managed, the crisis would
be over. What would exadly fit the situation was a friend of
Jesus, who was willing to play the knave, to tell them the
M 'iter's private habits, to show them His favourite haunt, to
guide them to the place at the most favourable time. It could
not be an accident that Judas ofl^bred himself at the exaft
moment when he was needed, and it could not have been the
priests who discovered this convenient agent. Every apostle
must have been well known to the Pharisees, and this man
especially, as a Judean. Had their deteftives tried them all and
found this was the only one open to sedudtion ? Upon what
did they play before he grew into a traitor? Was it simply
greed of gain ? or was it his fears regarding the collapse of
Jesus' kingdom ; or was it his sore heart whom Jesus had

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warned ? or was it his isolation as a Judean among Galileans ?
or was he really a traitor to the Jews, not to Jcsuy — desiring
to precipitate a crises from which the Master vv ould come out
vidVorious ? At any rate he was the paid informer of the coun-
cil, receiving thirty pieces of silver as blood money, and for
this corruption of a soul the blame must chiefly fall on the
secret conspirators, in whose hands Judas and Caiaphas were
both tools and puppets.

If it be criminal to tempt a man to falsehood, what shall be
said of misleading a nation to their ruin ? During the whole
conspiracy against Jesus there was a lively drcau ot the people,
who saw nothing wrong in the Master, and were much im-
pressed by His mighty works. Should the multitude, gathered
at Passover time in the capital, be seized with the idea that
Jesus had come from God and was persecuted for righteous-
ness' sake like the p ophets of old, they might be unmanage-
u'.lc and take an awkward part in affairs. JesMs would be safe
from death, but other people might be in danger of stoning.
If the undiscerning, changeable mob could be set against
Jesus, He was certainly doomed, and only one hand could ad-
minister the poison. The people detested the Sadducecs ; and
had the priests alone persecuted Jesus, it had crowned Him in
popular esteem : the people heard and trusted the Pharisee j,
because the Phari.ees had been loyal to the nation's faith and
cause. There is something pathetic in the conhdcnce of a
people ; it is like the trust of a child ; to possess it is a pro-
found responsibility, to betray it is an infamy. And the Phari-
sees betrayed it in a supreme moral crisis. Had they guided
the people with knowledge, Jesus would have been accepted
as the Messiah ; had they U'ft the people alone, Jesus had not
been crucified. They asserted that Jesus was a deceiver, and
the people accepted their word ; they prophesied that He would
destroy their nation, and the people were furious ; they over-

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whelmed the enthusiasm of the Galileans ; they played on the
passions of the cipital; they taught the people to echo the cry
of the priests, •• Crucify Him ! crucify Him ! " they fed the
fierce fanaticism which Jesus was laying to rest, and induced
them to put their Saviour tc death, and for this madness, by
the adlion of the moral law, the blood of Jesus has been on
Jewish heads, in the siege of Jerusalem and the persecutions
of ages. The party of religion shut their eyes to the heavenly
light and rejeded the Divine goodness ; they made their con-
spiracy and they succeeded ; and their children have reiiped
the fruits of that lamentable vidlory unto this day.

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Chapter XXVI: A Last Encounter

URINC; the week bcto.c ( al-
vary our Master spent, for the
most part, His nights at Beth-
any and His days in the Tem-
ple. The conspiracy for His
judicial murder, to which the
Pharisees had devoted so much
pains, and for which they had
made such an immense sacri-
fice ot honour, was now com-
plete. Any day and any hour
He might be arrested, and His mouth closed; and during the
few days that He was at liberty He packed into the time
some of His most important teachings, giving the parables of
Judgment — the parables of the Two Sons and the Ten Vir-
gins, the parables of the Rejeifted Corner-stone and the Wicked
Husbandmen, and the parable of the Great Assize. During this
time, also. He gave final comfort and instruction to His dis-
ciples in the discourses of the "Upper Room."
It was fitting that before His mouth was closed He should
have a final meeting with His adversaries, and it was a very
appropriate circumstance that this meeting should be held in
the Temple, and in the face of all the people. One by one the
representatives of the classes which were against Jesus ap-
proached Him, and one by one they tried Him in final con-
flict. No display of sweet reasonableness on His part could, of

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course, avert the issue— the cross was inevitable— but during
the two days in which He was engaged in this conflidl He
achieved a triumph which the cross could never take from
Him. It is the meanest of all vidorics, when you have been
defeated in fair argument, to strike a man full upon the mouth.
Jesus obtained the crown — the crown of gold, and the thorns
were left upon the head of the Pharisees. Behind the deputa-
tions who approached Jesus you can always see the faces of
the Pharisees, and with one exception there is not an attack
made upon Jesus which they did not inspire.
The first deputation came from the council, representing the
whole body— elders, scribes, and priests; but when you look
at the questions which they put to Jesus, you can feel that the
priests and the elders had comparatively little share in it. The
first question was the question of the Pharisees. Their line all
through was one of simple-minded inquiry, and also of osten-
tatious deference. The Master had now come to Jerusalem,
and they were glad to welcome Him. The people were
gathered together, and were in a very receptive condition.
Many questions had been agitating the public mind, and there
might have been some difference of opinion; now there was
an opportunity for His removing every doubt they had ever
had, and also of meeting all their difficulties. As candid men
anxious to do what was right by Him, and as members of the
council, anxious to do their best by the people committed to
their charge, they would now afford Him full scope. The Phari-
sees' question runs at large after this fashion: "As you are
aware," they said, addressing Jesus, "the Almighty has been
pleased to send great prophets to our people, and they have
declared the knowledge of His work; but of course there are
false prophets, as there are true prophets, and it is necessary
to make a careful distinction. The council of the nation —
the men of the greatest learning and position — is charged

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A LAST ENCOUNTER

with the responsibility of the people's spiritual well-being;
and it has been our custom to decide whether a man was a
true prophet or not. We have been unable up to this date to
give you our commission, and there have been collisions be-
tween us. This has been a matter of regret to us, as no doubt
it has been to you; but we notice that you are preaching; and
as we gave you no authority and we are sure that you would
not preach without some sandion, let this matter be finally
settled. In face of the people tell us from whom didst Thou
receive Thine authority.

Of course the suggestion was that Christ had no authority

that He was a man eaten up with personal vanity and infedled
with false dodtrinc, who was running on His own responsi-
bility, and playing mischief in the community. It was a very
skilful question, because behind the Pharisees were a people
who did respedl the council, and who did honour the prophets
sanftioned by the council, and any kind of answer He gave
to the question was likely to bring Him into trouble. They
had been defeated often by Jesus, and I should suppose they had
some misgivings, but on this occasion they felt pretty sure of
succ»* •.

Now there was no need for Jesus to explain to the represen-
tatives of the council the authority He had for His mission,
any more than a prophet like Amos required to explain to the
priest of Bethel what right he had to come from Tekoa and
thunder against the unrighteousness of the people. The right
of Jesus lay in the reasonable words He spake, and in tl^c
spiritual work which He had done— the only real commission
which any prophet can have, and which he can show to
people of all creeds and all classes. He had come from God,
He might have said ; and the proof was that He spake as never
man spake regarding the great mysteries of life and of God.
They denied His orders, because His orders had not come from

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the Jewish council — had not come, that is to say, from the
infamous high priest and from the hypocritical Pharisees.
He could stand and say, •' These words are the vindication of
My message, and what I have done is the seal of My orders."
But He knew the Pharisees well ; and now, since the time had
gone past for mercy between Him and them, He might as
well administer to them a wholesome humiliation. They had
asked Him a question, with assurance and arrogance, in face of
the people. He would ask them another ; and when His ques-
tion was answered. He would answer theirs. It was quite with-
in the sphere of their work, and closely conneded, with their
own inquiry, — a fair, open, and straightforward question.
" You Pharisees are judges ? I shall admit for the moment
your claim that no prophet ought to preach except with your
approval; and now I c6me to My question. I am not the only
prophet that has addressed this generation. Before Me went one
who was greater than all the prophets of the past : he attrafted
your attention, and you heard him. Will you tell Me, and will
you tell these people now and here — the people whom you
have gathered together to hear My answer — whether John's
baptism and John himself were of God or no ? "
Most simple of questions, but it showed that when Jesus con-
sidered it becoming to use methods of argument in keeping
with the Pharisees' mind, they had as little chance with Him
on the lower as on the higher levels of His teaching. An easy
answer! — which answer? If they stood forward, and said,
John was of God, then Jesus had replied in a moment, "And
you did not obey Him. What of your council, what of your
authority, what of your moral charge of the people ? " They
might have said, and they were simply itching to say, that the
Baptist was not of God — that he was an insolent and self-sent
man. They looked round the faces of the people, and they
seemed to see the people's hands stooping for the stones, and

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THE TRANSFIGURATION

And tfter six days Jesus taketh Peter, James, and John his brother,

and bringeth them up into an high mountain apart.

And was transfigured before them : and His fiice did shine as the

sun, and His raiment was white as the light.

And, behold, there appeared unto them Moses and Elias talking

with Him.— Matthew XVII, i-8.

i-H,„;,t ..,' nrini hm; .^-...ikI. ,t-7mM nv,j(,;i ^yiX kvcb /!- .-.its bn/.
.nwjf. (n«irir;ofn rfpiii ru. inni qii fri'jih rfja^nnrfjb/iji

'rigii -iHl ■'■i: TiidjJ ••(;// Inaif'SI ?'f-I I,:!.; ,iur^.

_i_ — "

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A LAST ENCOUNTER

they dared not; for if any man had denied that John was a
prophet, his reputation, if r ot his life, had been gone that day
They were cunn'ng men, and they were accustomed to snares;
and they saw the snare, and would not walk into it "We do
not know; wc cannot tell." "Neither shall I tell you My au-
thority." And, in the presence of the whole people. He put the
Pharisees, for the last time, to shame, and He did so with
their own weapons.

Next day a very different deputation approached Him, and it
might be supposed that they came of their own accord. As the
Gospels, however, put it, and as we ourselves know from the
aftion of the Pharisees, this deputation consisted of puppets—
well-dr«sed, but empty-headed puppets, dancing at the pull-
ing of the Pharisees' strings. Between the Herodians— that is
to say, speaking in quite a general way, the people attached
to the Court of Herod-and Jesus there had been no conflidt
In their eyes He was a vulgar fanatic, and to Him they were
people who preferred a dancing-girl to John the Baptist. When
you see them face to face, this group of courtiers in purple and
fine linen, with high looks, and with mincing speech, and
opposite them Jesus in His plain and peasant garments, you see
this present world incarnate in its basest and meanest form
and you see Jesus unafraid, confident, spiritual, with vision
reaching beyond this Temple and its disputes, beyond the cross
and death, the preacher of the unseen world— the world of
righteousness, peace, and joy.

The Herodians would never have dreamt of asking any ques-
Uon of Jesus, had they not been moved by the Pharisees. The
Herodians had no position whatever among the people except
in connexion with the court, and the favour of Rome was the
life of Herod. If the people should turn against the Herodians
or if the Roman Emperor should withdraw his support from
Herod's miserable, tinselled court, it would disappear, and

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every man in it. What a clever thing it would be if Jesus
could be forced into a political difficulty, and be obliged to
pass his opinion upon the rightfulness or wrongfulness of sub-
mitting to the Roman yoke ! If Jesus were obliged to declare
against the Roman government, then latent patriotism had
burst into a flame, and Herod's throne had been in danger. If,
on the other hand. He declared in favour of the Roman gov-
ernment, then the people had le't Him, and it was doubtful
whether He would have escaped from the Temple with His
life.

They come to Him, these Herodians, with great courtesy, and
with all the manners of a cour ; they tell Him how much they
think of Him; they tell Him how much they depend upon
His advice ; they assure Him that He is a man uplifted above
the world, and indiflferent to human opinion. Behind the
courtiers, with their false, honeyed ^ids bending before the
Master, we can see the Pharisees, who have briefed the empty
Herodians with the courteous speech, suggesting to them at
every turn what they shall do. " All we desire to know is this
(you can tell us true of all men): is it lawful to pay tribute to
Cssar?"

As far as one can feel the pulse of the narrative the Herodians
never gave Jesus a single serious thought, and He did not
answer them. He looked beyond them at the hypocrites, who
desired to put a great prophet into a dilemma — a dilemma
either of revolution or of treason to His country. " Bring Me,"
said Jesus, "a penny." Although He was that day the centre
of the Temple crowd, and though that day He would easily lay
in the dust every one of His opponents. He does not seem to
have even had a purse or a single coin. " Bring Me," He said,
" a penny." And the group come closer and bring it, the Hero-
dians not understanding, and the Pharisees watching and be-
ginning to tremble. "Whose is this image and superscription?"

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A LAST ENCOUNTER

•aid Jesus: and they said, "Cesar's." "You come, then, to ask
whether you ought to pay tribute to Cssar or not, while
Casar's money is running in your land; and you know as
well as I do, that if you accept the king's coinage you have
owned the king's government. You ask Me a political ques-
tion. Pharisees, when did I ever meddle with your local poli-
tics, when did I ever create disturbances :n this land, when
did I ever preach a revolution? Do you remember a man com-
ing to Me down in Galilee, and asking me to settle between
him and his brother because they had quarrelled over an inheri-
tance, and I refused, as I ever refuse, to have anything to do
with worldly affairs? Mine is a spiritual kingdom. I come not
to arrange your relation to the Roman government; I have
told you I came to deal with your souls. I warned you that
you were slaves not to Rome, but to your sins. Settle with the
Herodians the question of Casar; settle with Pilate the ques-
tion of Pilate; and then settle the greater question which you
have not settled and arc not willing to settle— the question
of the kingship of conscience and the rule of righteousness
over your souls."

When this was over, we are willing to believe that the Phari-
sees were not prepared for another attack; but the local
jealousy of the council, although allayed for a little time in
order that both parties might unite in the persecution of
Jesus, was still existent, and came into evidence. The Sad-
ducees — that is, the priests and skeptical portion of the nation
— came forward in their own person; and if one desires to un-
derstand the charafter of the Jewish priesthood and the coarse-
ness of the lower scepticism, let him read the question that
they put to Jesus. They did not believe in a future life; and,
not believing in the future life, they did not believe in any of
the beautiful things which are unseen and eternal. They were
not men in earnest; they were not thinking men; they were

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men with cheap ubjcdions and clever gibes; and now they
came with unc of their miserable mockeries at the greatest
hope which has ever lived in the human heart — the hope of
the future life.

One of their pet jests had gone the round of their feasts at
Jerusalem, when they had drunk too much wine and their
hearts were gross within them; and the man who had intro-
duced it had ever since been considered a wit — a man with a
searching intelledl quick to dispel foolish delu&ions and maud-
lin sentiment about a '.'uture life. " If there is to be a future,"
they ask, "what would happen in a case like this? According
to our law, when a man dies and leaves a widow who is child-
less, his brother has to marry her; so it came to pass that
there were seven brothers, and six married their brother's
widow in turn ; now, in the life to come, whose wife shall she
be?" We understand now what manner oflife the Jewish priests
were living, and what kind of men they were. They not only
uttered this pert indecency in the face of the people; it is in-
credible, but they repeated it looking into the eyes of Jesus
Christ!

What He suffered on that occasion, and on many others of the
same kind! We know how He rever 'ced women and little
children. We know with what delica Ac shrank from those
hideous sensual questions which som , eople are ever dragging
into the light and using aj subjefts for obscene controversy.
They asked Him this foul question in the house of God; and
with scorn, although with et'ident repression of Himself, He
said to them: "Jews, how can I speak to you of the future
life; it is impossible, for you have not the souls to appreciate
or to inhjrit it: you care nothing for the life to come." Then,
before He parted from the subjedt. He lifted it, as He ever
did, on to its real level, and answered, not these men, who could
not have understood the answer, but you and me, when in our

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A LAST ENCOUNTER

low moments we lose the hope ofeverlasting life. His answer was
in a Jewish form, but the kernel of it is easily found. "Was
God the G..d of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob, or is He to-
day the CJod of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob? If a man has in
him the heart to trust in God and the heart t^ follow God
through the seventy or eighty years of his present life— a heart
to love God and to thirst for God— is there no God to corres-
pond with that heart? and if the man lies down and dies, be-
lieving that he is lying on the bosom of the Eternal, is this,
the noblest achievement of the human soul, only a hideous
delusion? Does not Abraham prove God an eternal God?
And God is not ashamed to-day because he has satisfied Abra-
ham." We have been horrified at the indecency of the men
and at the pain of our Master; and now we could almost
thank them, because from the depths of their filthy imagination
He has raised the question at once to the heights of light and
supreme reason.

They left— wc dare not hope they were ashamed of them-
selves—and we feel that the Herodians, Sadducees, and Phari-
sees were not men who could understand the Master. Are all
His audience dark of mind and gross of heart ? Those lips will
soon be closed in the dust of deaih; and this, the greatest
Teacher that ever spoke to any generation, will not be able to
answer another question. Is there no man who will seize this
last opportunity and ask a worthy question?
At last, after all these deputations had been swept away in
confusion, an honest scholar came to ask a question that had
long been lying in his mind. It was a point in theology about
which this scribe was perplexed and it might be called pedan-
try, but it was real; and if you strip off the covering, it was a
question that went to the root of things.They had had an aca-
demic argument in the Jewish schools as to which was the
most important commandment, and this man felt that the de-

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♦I*

bate had a spiritual interest. "Master," he said (he comes to
Christ representing no person but himscli"), "which is the
chief commandment, that when I know it 1 may keep it and
receive lite everlasting?"

As Jesus looks on him, 'he just scorn which we saw a moment
ago upon his face passed away. Did Jesus ever argue and put
to confusion an hone«!t man r Never ; and He never will. Every-
where and in all ciri u nstances, if we be honest, though we
make mistakes, we shall have kindly judgment at the hands of
Jesus Ch.ist. His face softened. His eye brightened ; here is a
man after His own heart. They stand out together from among
the people, our Master and an honest man. "Thou knowcsi,"
said the Saviour, "that, when the commandments arc summed
up, the first of them is this, ' Love thy God ' ; and the second
is this • Love thy neighbour' ; and these together arc chief of
all the commandments, and the crown and the fruit of eternal
life." He might have argued a little, this scholar, and there
are people who have the heart to argue, about love not being
sufficient; but this was an ingenuous and a spiritual man.
"Master," he said, "Thou hast said well; Love is greatest,"
and then the whole of the teaching of the prophets — of Amos,
Micah, and Isaiah — came pouring into his mind, lit up by
the touch of Jesus — "Love, Master, is all in all."
Again Jesus looked at him. Hypocrites He had dealt with;
fools He had dealt with; sceptics He had dealt with; but here
was a disciple. "Thou art not far," He said — "thou art not
far from the kingdom." And with these last gentle words, in
which we sec the Master fling open the door of the kingdom
to all who have true hearts, and bid them enter, the final en-
counter of Jesus Christ with His enemies closed in grace and
charity.

[264]

Chapter XXVII: Before the Council

T would be with a sense of relief
that Jesus accepted arrest and
stood a pri!»oner at last before
the supreme court of His
nation. His relations with the
ruling class had been strained
from the beginning of His
public ministry, and during
the last year they had become
unbearable. For a public
teacher the most unkindly
atmosphere is one of suspicion and prejudice; the most genial
is one of candour and sympathy. It was fast becoming impos-
sible for Jesus to preach the Gospel with abandonment of
mind, because it was imperative for Him to defend Himself
against outrageous charges and poisonous insinuations. With-
in the arena of open debate Jesu.« had n»et and worsted His
opponents at every turn; but thi-- had only fed their hatred.
His moral vidories had delivcre<! Jlis; soul; they had con-
demned His life. There was no cse i i l-layiag the final issue;
the rulers had completed their plans; He had placed Himself
in their grasp ; let Him be tried for His liCc according to law. He
did not, in the state of feeling, exped iiistice; He was prepared
for the cross; He only had one desire — that the end should not
tarry. " What thou doest," He said to Judas, with a touch of
impatience, "do quickly." And then Judas left to fire the mine.

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Whatever may have been the fanaticism of the Jewish char-
after, the spirit of Jewish law was merciful in the extreme.
Under no system has there been a more anxious desire to
guard the rights of a prisoner, or to allow him opportunities
of escape. As regards his own evidence, and the testimony of the
witnesses, and the time of the trial, and the adtion of the judges,
the accused had every advantage. It is not vain prophecy to
say that if the processes of law had been observed, Jesus would
have been acquitted. There are occasions, howe^-er, when pas-
sion can be restrained by no form, and the council were deter-
mined that by fair means or foul Jesus should die. It does seem
true, as theology has suggested, that this Man was the innocent
substitute for other men's sins, for every arrangement of justice
was upturned in His case, and He who was the most innocent
c f men, was treated as the most guilty. The trial of Jesus was,
from beginning to end, a travesty of justice; and although it
may be granted that our Master was a heretic according to the
Jewish creed, as far as law went His was a judicial assassi-
nation.

The sustained course of injustice began with His arrest, which
was accomplished with every circumstance of treachery and vio-
lence, in the Garden of Gethsemane by a band composed partly of
Roman soldiers, partly of Temple servants.There were only two
circumstances in which an accused person could be arrested be-
fore his trial in Jewish pradtice — if it was supposed that he
would escape, or that he would offer resistance. As the council
was perfedtly aware, neither alternative applied *.o Jesus. Instead
of showing any desire to evade their authority He had come up
to the capital and pradtically presented Himself for arrest, and
the only danger of tumult among the people lay in the violence
of the council. If Jesus was simply summoned to appear and
to defend His teaching before the council. He would certainly
not refuse, and his followers, from certain past collisions, had

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BEFORE THE COUNCIL

no reason to fear the result. The midnight arrest, planned
with so much cunning and treachery, was a gross mistake, be-
cause ,t was a flagrant illegality and a wanton indignity. Jesus
would allow no resistance to be ofrcred. He checked Peter's
folly mstantly. for violence would have put Him in the wrong
and justified their adion; and He protested, with indignation,
against their condud. "Was He a common criminal and a
mere brigand, that they should come out against Him with
swords and staves? " His captors were not. however, in a mood
to listen to any protest, and. going to the extreme of illegality
they led Jesus away bound.

As they had arrested Jesus with force, they were under the
deeper obligation to bring Him to a regular trial without de-
lay; but their next proceeding was to take Jesus not to the
Sanhedrim, which was a competent court, but to the palace
of Annas, who was not even a magistrate. No doubt there was
a strong reason for haling Jesus before this man, and no doubt
he was an ous to examine Jesus. Years ago Annas had been
himself High Priest, and was removed from office by the
Roman authorities for his arrogance. Although a private per-
son. he was the adting head of the priestly party, a man of
enormous wealth, crafty ability, and unscrupulous charadter
—the type of a successful, influential ecclesiastic of the highest
rank It may be assumed that the final plot against Jesus was
hatched in that palace, and that the strong will of Annas stiff-
ened the courage of the council. Jesus would be perfedlly
aware that He was face to face with His most dangerous and
powerful enemy, and He would also know that, as an ex-High
Priest, Annas had in his own person no judicial position One
may therefore be certain that the first examination of the
Master, which by an ambiguity in the narration might have
taken place before either Annas or Caiaphas, did not take place
before Annas. Very likely the old priest was content to study

[267]

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THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

^^^ ■'

Jesus, and did not care to ask Him questions. As soon as his
curiosity was satisfied Jesus was removed to the palace of Caia-
phas, the High Pric-i of the day and Annas' son-in-law,
where a legal court was waiting to receive the case. So it re-
mains that before Jesus' trial began He had been twice wronged,
once by His arrest, and second by being taken to a private
house that he might be exhibited to a disgraced and wirepull-
ing ecclesiastic.

The court before which Jesus appeared for His first examina-
tion, and which might be called a court of the first instance,
was a committee of the Sanhedrim, meeting under the presi-
dency of the High Priest. Its duty was to conduft the pre-
liminary examination, and, in case of presumptive guilt, to
send the accused to the full Sanhedrim for final examination
and sentence. No objection could be taken to the judicial body
before whom Jesus now stood, but the gravest objedtion is to
be taken at once to their procedure. According to Jewish law
— and it is also in accordance with justice — the first step is
to let the prisoner know the crime with which he is charged.
With the Jews this was done not by an indictment, as in western
custom, but by the chief witnesses, whose testimony was the
accusation he had to meet. As soon, therefore, as Jesus stood
before Caiaphas in this first stage, and before He was asked
any question, the witnesses ought to have appeared and given
their evidence. Until that point there was no case before the
court, and the judges should not have known why Jesus stood
at their bar. As it was, the High Priest, in the very teeth of
the law, and adting as if he were a prosecutor — which of
course he was in faft — instead of a judge, began to question
Jesus about His teaching and about His followers, so that the
court might gather evidence of crime from His own lips. An
extremely convenient and simple method of managing a case,
and one which might be very successful with a timid and con-

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BEFORE THE COUNCIL

science-stricken prisoner. Jesus was neither, and He at once
relused to be witness as well as accused, and reminded His
judges that they were violating the clearest provisions of the
law. He had not been a crafty conspirator, forming a secret
society and teaching secret doftrinc. On the contrary. He had
taught m public places, as they knew, and discussed His mes-
sage openly with the people.Why did they ask Him questions?
Why did they not ask those who had heard Him.? Here was
the third illegality—to begin a trial without a charge, and
then to endeavour to create a charge from the prisoner s lips.
If Jesus' enemies had imagined that they could play fast and
loose with the regulations of law unchallenged, they had now
learned their mistake, for at every step Jesus had gained a legal
vidory—at His arrest, in Annas' palace, in the attempted
examination. They were concussed into some respe^ for their
own jurisprudence, and at last brought forward witnesses and
a charge. The indidlment, to take that first, as it emerges from
the evidence, came to this, that Jesus had said, either that He
would destroy, or that He was able to destroy, the Temple
This was a perversion of one of Jesus* striking sayings during
His first public visit to Jerusalem, which had excited suspicion
at the time, and had been laid up for future use. Pradically
it came to a charge of blasphemy against the Holy Place, and
by inference against the worship and creed of the nation. As a
ground for trial it was quite fair, since, if Jesus had wantonly
attacked the national institutions He was liable to punishment,
but everything depended on the witnesses. And the witnesses
against Jesus were worse than useless for two damning reasons.
One was that while it is an elementary condition of justice
that there should be no collusion between the witnesses and
the judges, those witnesses were notoriously arranged for and
suborned by the judges, and the other was that they had learned
their lesson so ill that they contradifted one another after a

[269]

I V,

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

u '

flagrant fashion, and their testimony could not be accepted
even by this partial court. As the witnesses had obliterated
one another, there was no charge against Jesus, and He ought
to have been declared innocent and set free. As it was He was
kept bound till a meefing of the full Sanhedrim could be
called in the early morning, and He be placed again on trial.
Two more illegalities were now added to the list — the tam-
pering with witnesses, and the imprisonment of an acquitted
man.

The daylight was breaking when Jesus was brought for the first
and last time before I'le Seventy, who, with the High Priest as
president, made thr supreme court of the nation, and the final
stage tf this momentous trial began. One expedh some respecft
for law now, and some decency in proceedings, but Jesus fared
as ill in the Sanhedrim as in its committee. After some irregu-
lar examination and some open insults the High Priest arose
in his place and solemnly charged Jesus to declare whether
He were the Messiah, the Son of the Blessed. The former
charge of blasphemy against the Temple had disappeared, and
a new one had been sprung on the prisoner; and in spite of
the provision in Jewish law that no accused person should
be invited to incriminate himself, the chief judge put this
leading question to Jesus. The Master might have objefted
and kept silence ; but with a court set on injustice, and thirst-
ing for His blood, what purpose would be served by appeals
to justice? Standing in face of the heads of the Jewish people a
bound prisoner. He declared that He was the Christ, and that
His judges of to-day, now vaunting themselves in their power,
would see Him sitting on the right hand of power and com-
ing in the clouds of heaven. A paroxysm of fury seized the
court, the High Priest rent his clothes, and the Sanhedrim con-
demned Jesus to death for the highes: form of blasphemy.
Still faithful at every turn to their principle of injustice, the

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BEFORE THE COUNCIL

court, in their final decision, accomplished two more violations
of law. They found Jesus guilty of death for a crijne which
did not exist— claiming to be the Messiah; and they did nut
try Him for the crime they intended— claiming to be the
Messiah and being an impostor. It was a satire on all the past
history of the Jews that the Messiah could now never be ac-
cepted, since as soon as He declared Himself, He would be put
to death without more ado, as happened to the real Messiah.
They also began the trial at night, which, in a case so serious,
was illegal, and they concluded it on the day before the Sab-
bath, which was illegal, and they passed sentence without ad-
journing four and twenty hours, which was illegal. In their
frantic haste to secure the death of Jesus the chief council of
His nation trampled under foot every safeguard afforded to the
humblest criminal, and carried the death of Jesus with enthu-
siastic acclamation. It was the exposure and condemnation of
the rulers of the Jewish nation. For about three years the
Master had taught and lived the gospel of the Divine Love
among this people, with the result that the Jewish Church
would have dealt more kindly with Him if He had been a
highway robber or a religious hypocrite. So fierce was the
hatred of goodness among the priests : so unreasoning was the
fear of reality among the Pharisees. The verdift on Jesus was
the vidtory of the ecclesiastical and dogmatic spirit at its
worst.

[271]

Chapter XXVIII: Before Pontius

Pilate

HEN the supreme court of the
Jewish people tried Jesus and
found Him guilty of blas-
phemy, the Sanhedrim had
done its utmost, but the per-
secutors of Jesus were still far
short of their end. Prejudiced
and venal judges might over-
ride every form of Jewish law
intended for the protedMon
of the accused, and might
prostitute the very principles of equity to convid Jesus: they
might denounce Him with strong words, and declare Him
worthy of death with unanimous voice; but one thing they
could not do, and that was to put Him to death.The position
of the Sanhedrim was like that of the ecclesiastical courts in
the Reformation days, which could condemn to death and did
so on a large scale and with much alacrity, but had 'to hand
the condemned over to the civil power that the sentence might
be earned into efFed. There was this difference, however—
that while the modern magistrates simply registered and ful-
filled the decision of the priests, the Roman authorities were
by no means so obedient to the Sanhedrim. As soon as the
Jewish judges had finished their work with Jesus they had
the prisoner conveyed to the Roman procurator, and they
accompanied him in force lest their illegal verdidl should be

[273]

I V

•i

f ' !

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

overruled, and, after all their endeavours, Jesus should escape.
Pontius Pilate, as the representative of the emperor, had inj-
perial authority in his province, subject always to the appeal
to Rome; but this authority he was obliged to use in accord-
ance with the policy of his state. The Romans, with much
wisdom, were accustomed to allow to every conquered nation
as much liberty as might be consistent with the absolute
supremacy of Rome, and to interfere as little as possible with
local aflfairs. Unto each people was granted the use of their
own religion and their own laws, with only this condition in
the matter of religion — that they should not interfere with
any other; and this restriftion in law — that the power of life
and death should remain with the Roman official. As a rule,
the Romans were strongly disinclined to meddle with religious
squabbles, but they were very sensitive to the slightest sugges-
tion of treason against the emperor. ,When the Jews brought
Jesus to the bar of Pilate, the danger was, that he would re-
fuse to have anything to do with a point of theology, and their
cue was to convince the Roman judge that Jesus had been fos-
tering a revolution against the government.
What, however, they hoped was, that the procurator, busied
about many things at that season and disinclined to have any
controversy with the nation assembled for Passover, would be
content with the acknowledgment of his authority, andratify any
sentence they might have passed. It is suggested by the circum-
stance of the Jews presenting Jesus without any accusation
that Pilate took ? very formal view of his duties, and did not
trouble himself to inquire into cases. They forgot that there
was a difference between Barabbas and Jesus, and to-day the
Jews found Pilate in another mood. ^ h the instindt of a
judge he compared the noble face of th isoncr and the evil
countenances of the priests, whose chiefs h-j knew well and did
not respedl. It was evident to any person that this was no bandit

[274]

BEFORE PONTIUS PILATE

or common malefactor whom they had hauled to the judg-
ment scat, and that their eagerness was rather an outburst of
fanaticism than the passion for justice. Pilate must go to the
bottom of this matter, as he was a Roman and procurator
of Judca, and he demanded to know the charge against the
prisoner.

This unexpected curiosity of Pilate was a distinA check to
Jesus' persecutors, who had hoped to pass their case through
the Roman court without investigation. They were annoyed
as Jews, because Pilate had asserted his latent authority with
emphasis in face of the public; they were embarrassed as
pleaders, because they were perfectly aware that the charge
on which they had condemned Jesus in the lower court
would not serve their turn here. If Jesus had spoken disre8pe<a.
folly of the Temple, which they knew He had not, it would
be rather a certificate of common sense to Pilate; and if they
urged Jesus' assertion of Messiahship, the Roman would not
know what they said. They were not ready with the other
charge on the instant, and lost their tempers— not for the first
time in this case. Were they going to be questioned and called
to account at every turn? Was it any pleasure to them to visit
Pilate's court? "If he were not a malefadlor," they answered
sullenly, "we would not have delivered him unto thee."
When Pilate received this discourteous reply, he understood
the situation, and knew that he was master. It was, as he sus-
pefted, a conspiracy of those tricky, unscrupulous, revengeful
priests, and he was to be the tool to do their behest. This vic-
tim of theirs was a Jew of nobler character with whom they
had quarrelled about religion, and to please their spite Roman
law was to put Him to death without trial. Let them under-
stand that even a Jewish n^v^vintial had a right to better treat-
ment. Without tair UH\ iHlate would not condemn Jesus, and
without a charge he could not try Him, and so it would be

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THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

best for the priests, he suggested with grim suavity, and it
would also save all fridion, that they should take Jesus away
and try Him according to their own law. As if they had not
done so, as if Pilate did not know they had, as if their diffi-
culty was not to judge Jesus, but to get Jesus crucified. With
much bitterness they confessed their desire, and acknowledged
Pilate's authority. Did he think that they would have brought
their prisoner to him if they could have managed their o»vn
business? "It is not lawful for us," they said bitterly, "to put
any man to death."

By this time they were ready with a charge which Pilate
would understand without any difficulty, and which would
surely remove his scruples. Once again His prosecutors changed
the ground of guilt, and now they betook themselves to straight-
forward and unjustified falsehood. A few days ago the Hero-
dians had laid the trap of treason for Jesus, with thrir question
about paying tribute to Ca»ar, and Jesus had put them and
the Pharisees who inspired them to confusion. They did not
ask the question now : they boldly made the assertion. What
mattered it that Jesus had been careful never to say one word
against the Romans? that He had cast His shield over the tax-
gatherers ? that His whole teaching had been agai i ^t revolution ?
It was expedient that this man should die, or else the nation
would be destroyed — it was His death in the end which did
destroy the nation — and so it did not matter much what was
the accusation so long as it secured the crucifixion. This is
His crime: "He has been inciting the people not to give
tribute to Caesar, and claiming Himself to be a King."
Pilate may have been contemptuous and unprincipled; the
whole incident shows that he was not stupid, but that he had
a very shrewd insight. Had Jesus been one of the zealots, who
were ready to rise at any time against the Roman legions and
to reduce society to anarchy, Pilate would have identified

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BEFOKE PONTIUS PILATE

him at a glance and taken sharp measures. Only it ,« ould not
have been the Jews who would have been the prosecutors.
This poor man, in His peasant dress, and with His gracious
face, may have been an offender against some absurd Jewish
law, hut He was no revolutionary against the Romans. Pilate
took Jesus apart, and with a certain not unkindly irony, asked
whether He was the King of the Jews. And Jesus, who would
hardly answer His own council in their insolence and hypoc-
risy, was candid to the Roman magistrate; who was not His
enemy, who was rather His friend. " In the sense in which you
and these priests would understand the word, I am not a king;
I have no soldiers, and no sword must be used for Me; the
emperor need have no fear of Me. In another sense I am a
King with a kingdom which will be tar wider than the
Roman empire. \ly kingdom is not that of the sword, but
of truth ; and I reign not over men's bodies but over men's
souls." As Pilate looked on this calm, beautiful enthusiast,
with his unworldly hopes and spiritual dreams, the futility of
life came upon the cynical Roman. "What is truth?" said
Pilate, and he did not wait for any answer — what use was it?
—but he returned to the Jews and declared that he could find
no fault in Jesus.

It was a just judgment, worthy of the empire and the law
which the procurator represented. It must ever remain a satis-
Aaion to the disciples of Jesus that our Master received one
honest trial in His life, and was declared innocent before the
highest tribunal of earth. If Pilate had only stood fast in his
integrity, and given efFed to his sentence! But he was n )t try-
ing an ordinary prisoner, and before him lav the keenest ordeal.
At his decision the storm burst forth of disa pointmcnt, malice,
insolence, anger, and it heat furiously on Pilate's judgment seat,
so that he was shaken, and, hesitating, lost his opportunity, and,
before all was done, lost himself. He had dealt with mi'hs be-

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'•i

fore after a very unscrupulous fashion, but in the end he had
not gained ; now his cruel deeds and humiliating defeats Uid
hold upon his imagination. He was afraid to clear his court
and send the priests hack to Caiaphas' palace. He was not yet
ready to reverse his decision and hand Jesus over to his prose-
cutors. As he sought for a way of escape, his ear, sharpened by
anxiety, caught the word Galilean, and Pilate conceived an
adroit stroke of policy. He would send this embarassing pris-
oner to Herod, Jesus' own monarch for trial; thus at once
conciliating the Tetrarch, and ridding himself of Jesus. Herod
was much pleased with this courtesy, and was anxious to see
Jesus do miracles; but the fox was too cunning to undertake
a trial, so Jesus was cast back on Pilate — flung from one to
the other, as an ofl^nce, Whom generations to come would
welrome as their Saviour.

Pilate, whose nerve was rapidly departing, now tried one ex-
pedient after another to save Jesus without risk to himself,
for the personality of our Master cast a spell over him, and his
wife's dreamy had increased his awe. He would scourge Je«us,
as a warning to this harmless enthusiast not to meddle with
dangerous afl^irs, and let Him go, but this concession of in-
justice would not satisfy instead of the cross. He would oflfcr
them the choice of a prisoner as an ad of grace, either Barab-
bas, a famous bandit, a Rob Roy and Robin Hood kind of per-
son, or Jesus of Nazareth ; and he supposed that for very shame
even the priests would have taken Jesus, but they simply
clutched at Barabbas. As for Jesus, He must be crucified.
Then Pilate washed his hands in token that he would take no
responsibility for what was to follow, and, going from one
injustice to another, lie gave Jesus to his brutal soldiery to be
scourged, and afterwards — a pitiful device — he brought
out the bleeding viftim, and let the people see the gentlest
of prophets and most gracious of benefadlors with the crown

[278]

BEFORE I'ONTIUS PILATE

of jagged thorrw on His head and ' m of unspeakable
insult on His face. "Behold the " ..^ -jlate itid, with a
mysterious emotion, in th • vain ht, li the heart of the
people would be touched ly the sight ot outraged love; but
the fanatics, unreasoning and implacable still, chanted their
death song. "C .i,ify I-jim! crucify Him!"
As the procur.itor stood irresolute, torn between justice and
fear, he heard some voice, louder than the others, declaring
that Jesu? Had claimed to be God, and the awfulness of Jesus
deepcnrJ his imagination. Once more Pilate led Jesus into
the hall <u iu.:;ri«nt,and nov he asked Him fearfully whether,
indeed. He wcr. liivinc > us was silent. Could speech avail
anything, new vvith ihis temporising, cowardly man! No an-
swer; and Pi.^tte, u 1 o w is much shaken, lost patience. " Have
I not power to "t T'nce free, or to condenm Thee to Cal-
vary." Jesus looked on this helpless shadow and semblance of
a man, who had not power enough to obey his consc ; -.'ce,
or bid defiance to a ere v of fanatic?, and again the grai. -. cf
Jesus overcame them, anJ Ht pitied His judge. K: -vkiiovi
edged the power of the state, is He had ev . co, c, aiid
honoured civil authority — reminding Pilate th i h. mjs . m-
missioned of the Eternal, and He apportioned h.; ir, , : KT',
trial, with equal hand, assigning the larger sha.c u- ;!. . -..
and not to the Roman. If the Romans were His exet.-t ..\«, s,
they were unwilling. It was the Jews who hungerd fo-
Jesus' death. They, therefore, not Pilate, should have the
blame. Once more Pilate pleaded for Jesus before he spoke
the words which would send the Master to the Cross, and
leave an indelible stain on Roman justice. " Behold your King ! "
and then the rage of the priests and the mob, which had been
rising and swelling for three hours, broke all bounds and went
at Inrge. The persecutors forgot dignity and prudence. They
trampled under foot the patriotism and traditions of their

[279]

4 1

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

)

nation. If this detested man could only be put to death, they
would deny their national rights. "We have no king but
Caesar!" cried the priests, thirsting for blood; and then they
began to murmur with ominous suggestion : " If thou let this
man go, thou art not Csesar's friend." Already, with the imagi-
nation of one conscious of many a^s of injustice, Pilate saw
himself accused to the moody and jealous tyrant who ruled
the world, and to save himself he must sacrifice Jesus. After
an agony of anxiety and the last degradation of self-resped,
the priests had won, and the long feud of the Pharisees was
satisfied. Pontius Pilate, at the bidding of Jesus' own nation,
and with the full knowledge that Jesus was innocent, ordered
the Master to be crucified. Because He had done good in ways
which the religious party did not like, and because He preached
truth which they did not wish to hear, and because He asso-
ciated with classes which they despised, Jesus received His
reward, and that was the cross.

One cannot bid good-by to the judge of Jesus, to whom was
given a solitary^opportu ".'*.', and who misused it so miserably,
withouTvain regret ano .levout imagination. If the procu-
rator of Judea had obeyed his own conscience, and vindicated
the majesty of Roman law, if he had declared Jesus innocent
from his judgment-seat, with authority, and rescued Him from
the hands of His enemies, then He had gained unto himself
everlasting renown. Jesus might afterwards have been stoned
to death by a Jerusalem mob — very likely He would — and
Pilate might have been recalled in disgrace to Rome; but the
friends of the Master over all the world would have remem-
bered with just pride that in the hour of His extremity Jesus
found protection under the Roman eagles, and they would
have placed the name of His brave, incorruptible judge next
in order to the holy apostles. Pilate was conscious of a moral
crisis, and aroused himself to do his part. He had for his aux-

[230]

\ l»y

.^'' 'l^^S^:'

BEFORE PONTIUS PILATE

iliaries the radiant innocence of Jesus to guide him, the false-
hood of the priests to repel him, the integrity of Roman law
to support him; the message of his wife tv warn him; but he
Pte*^ J^® *^°^*''** *" ^^ c"«i. ana pcrpiitrated the judicial
crime of the ages, because his evil past, his treachery and his
jbloodshed, arose to conclemn and hinder him when the most
isplendid deed of justice was within his grasp.

[281]

''Wff'^iM'mk'.

■ i^., , ^f ^t-> ■ jy . ^ *!• t?fe^*'

.11

14 !:

Chapter XXIX: T he Death of Jesus

jITHIN the length and breadth
of the New Testament Scrip-
tures only one death is de-
scribed at large, and over that
death four biographers linger
with fond and intimate touch.
From the beginning of Jesus'
death scene to its close one
feels that ever)- word has been
treasured, and every sign has
been noted, and that at every
turn the natural passes into the supernatural, and the signifi-
cance of the great event assumes the highest spiritual propor-
tion. According to the writers this has been the death of deaths,
that death through which death itself has been vanquished, and
the supreme vidtory obtained for the human race which the
Master loved, and for whose everlasting benefit He laid down
His life.

It was about nine o'clock in the morning when the trial of
Jesus before Pilate was concluded, and the Roman judge, false
to his conscience and false to Roman law, gave orders for
Jesus' execution. The prisoner was then handed to a guard of
R.^man soldiers, composed most likely of a hundred and twenty
men, and commanded by a centurion. They removed the sol-
dier's cloak in which He had been mocked as a pseudo-em-
peror, and clothed Him again in His own garments. His cross

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

was then brought and placed upon His shoulders, the two
beams being arranged like the letter "V," and making a
weight which He was ill able to endure. Upon His breast
was placed the charge on which He was condemned, and this
in default jf anything else would be the title placed upon the
cross. Before Him went a soldier declaring His crime, and
round Him would march a bodyguard. Two common robbers,
or it might be political offenders, who through hatred of the
Romans had taken to a brigand life, and who were waiting
execution, were condemned to die with Jesus, and along with
them He marched to Calvary. As the procession wound its
way through the narrow streets there is no sign that the Jew-
ish men encompassing it on every side were touched with re-
pentance or with pity. Their minds had been inflamed by the
priests, and their demands had been gratified by Pilate, and
now that Jesus was about to be crucified they were ready to
see their malignant desire carried out to the bitter end. The
hearts of the Jewish women were more tender, and perhaps
less logical, for they could not forget how Jesus had sympa-
thised with women, and they were not able to endure the
sight of His humiliation and His pain. As Jesus pa.ssed within
His guard of steel, and carrying upon His weary shoulders ihe
heavy instrument of His death, the daughters of Jerusalem
could not control themselves, but burst into passionate weep-
ing. Jesus was p>rofoundly touched, and stopped for a brief
space to speak to the women, because unto His mind their
condition and that of their children were harder than His.
What must happen to a city which had treated its chief
prophet after this fashion, and whose citizens had given them-
selves up to the most hopeless bigotry and the fiercest fanati-
cism ? Although Jesus did not share the gross idea of Jewish
patriotism, which thought only of rebellion against the
Romans and deliverance by the sword. He loved the people

' [ 284 ]

'HE DEATH OF JESUS

from which He sprung with all His heart, and desired for
them the chiefest good. As He once looked upon Jerusalem,
lying in its splendour and in its unbelief. He burst into tears,
mourning chiefly because His people had not known the day
of their visitation, and that the things of their peace had been
now hidden from their view. Their doom was irrevocable, for
it was sealed by His own rejedion, and He saw afar off with
prophetic eye this city dashing itself against the iron buckler
of Rome, and perishing with unspeakable shame and suffering.
As the thought of the punishment of Jerusalem arose before
His mind He said to the women, "Weep not for Me, how-
ever great My agony may be; weep for yourselves, since yours
will be greater. If they do these things in the green tree, what
shall be done in the dry?"

As they pass out from the city gate it is evident that Jesus is
no longer able to carry the two heavy beams, and that the
soldiers will be delayed on their march. They look around
for some assistant who will relieve Jesus of the burden of the
cross, since no Roman could be expeded to touch the shame-
ful tree, and a countryiran called Simon, coming into the city
to keep Passover, is pressed into their service. The cross is
lifted from Jesus' shoulders and placed upon Simon, and he
makes the fourth, together with Jesus and the malefactors, with-
in the guard of soldiers. Tradition and Art have also loved
to dwell upon a third incident, which is said to have taken
place between Pilate's judgment hall and Calvary. The Virgin
is standing with her friends, Salome, the mother of John, and
St. Mary Magdalene, and that other Mary. As Jesus passes.
His mother springs forward to meet Him, and the Son and
the mother have one brief moment together, after which
Jesus is hurried onward to the cross, and the Virgin is sup-
ported by her friends, who also mourn, but recognise her su-
preme sorrow.

[285]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

'*jr

The site of the Crucifixion is a matter of keen controvert,
and opinion will be long divided regarding the accuracy a(
tradition. The place of a skull was certainly situated outside
the city wall, but whether it be the same as that on which the
Church of the Sepulchre stands, or whether it be another at
some distance, will depend on the position of the city boundaries.
While this subjedt will always afford a field for exploration and
discussion, the exadt position of the spot does not greatly con-
cern the pious heart, and that which has been chosen at an
early date and sandtioned by a long tradition, will always sat-
isfy the disciples of Jesus as a place to which they can make
their pilgrimage, and where they can remind themselves of the
! love which was faithful unto death. As the twenty-fifth day of
' December has been accepted throughout the greater part
L of Christendom as our Lord's birthday, although we know that
/ that cannot have been the date, so the Church of the Sepulchre
may be received as the monument and remembrance of Cal-
vary.

Crucifixion was of all death punishments the most cruel and
the most degrading, and it was one abhorred by the mercy of
the Jewish law. The form of the cross varied, sometimes being
what is usually called a St. Andrew's cross, where the two
beams cross one another at acute angles, after this fashion X ;
sometimes being in the shape of the letter T, where the hori-
zontal beam is laid upon the top of the perpendicular. Some-
times thr horizontal beam was laid across the perpendicular
about one fourth from its top, which is the form of the Latin
cross, and of the cross on which Jesus was crucified. It is not
likely that the cross was lofty, since it was enough for its pur-
pose that it should raise the person to be executed a short dis-
tance above the ground.

When the procession arrived at the place of execution, the sol-
diers took the two beams from Simon's shoulder, and fastened

[286]

:'^

THE DEATH OF JESUS

one in a hole which had been dug. They also would insert a
slight projection midway in the perpendicular beam, on which
the executed could rest as one sitting on a saddle, since the nails
in the hands could not have sustained the weight of the body.
Jesus is stripped of His garments, and the soldiers place Him
upon the transverse beam as it lies upon the ground. They then
stretched out His hands, and after, it may be, fastening His
arms to the cross with ropes, they open the palms of the hands
and through each they drive a nail. He is then raised up on
the cross beam, and it is fastened to the upright post, while
every motion is torture to the nerves of the hands and arms.
His feet they place side by side, and each foot they pierce with
a larger nail. Very likely the crown of thorns was still upon
His head, so that if the cross be regarded as His throne, this
King was not without His crown. When the Victim has been
fastened to the tree, the soldiers' work is done, save the watch-
ing, and Jesus begins to ihc in the presence of His enemies.
Before the piercing with the nails a cup of medicated wine had
been offered to the Lord, which, acccmiing to kindly custom,
was provided by certain pious women of Jerusalem to alleviate
the sufferings of the crucified. As soon as Jesus had tasted the
cup He refused to drink, because it was not in keeping with
His dignity to shrink from suffering or to die in unconscious-
ness. Over His head they had placed an inscription in three
languages, declaring Him to be the King of the Jews, which
was a stroke of Roman irony, intended not as an insult to
Jesus, but as an insult to the Jews. It was also an unconscious
tribute to the universal reign of the Crucified, because He was
described as King in the three great languages of the ancient
world — the language of religion, the language of thought, -
and the language of power. Jesus Himself had assured His dis-
ciples that if He were"raised up He would bring all men to
His feet, and now by the cruel way of the cross He asserts

[287]

"K-

I
I

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

I '

His kingly position. As a King He carried Himself all that
day, and we can recognise the tragic fitness of the Master's
death. It had not been becoming that He should be secreted
in a Roman barrack to save Him from the Jews, and intoler-
able that He should be stoned to death by a street rabble.
Unto sight it may have seemed a commonplace execution,
but to vision the scene is invested with majesty. It is the sac-
rament of the Divine Love, and the apotheosis of suffering.
Around the cross arc gathered His enemies of the three years
the priests whose privileges He was supposed to have at-
tacked, the Pharisees whose traditions He had denied, and the
people whose prejudices He had offended. Against Him in
His helplessness burst forth their malice and malignity, who
had not generosity or humanity enough to leave a tortured
and dying man in peace. They taunted Him with the claims
which He had made; they even taunted Him with the power
which He had used for the highest ends, and, most amazing
gibe of all, they mocked Him because He had thought more
of others than of Himself. " If Thou be the Messiah," they
said, "come down from the cross" ; while it was because He
had fulfilled His Messiahship that He hung upon that cross.
" He saved others," one said to his neighbour, "but," flinging
the word at Jesus, " Himself He could not save." As His base
enemies exulted and jeered below, above upon the cross, Jesus,
with outstretched hands, was praying tha' this thing might
not be laid to their charge. Seven times the Lord brake the
silence of His sacrifice, and His first word was one of charity,
" Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."
While the Jews mocked at their Messiah, Whom Isaiah had
foreseen and described in the most pathetic passage of Old
Testament Scripture, and while the Mes-^iah, faithful amid all
their cruelty to His nation, had only thoughts of love towards
;hcm, and prayers for the Divine mercy, the soldiers, indiffer-

[288]

THE DEATH OF JESUS

ent alike to Jesus and the Jews, were dividing the perquisites
of an executioner. Jesus had little money any day of His life,
and He had none at all when He came to die. All that the
Son of God left was the covering of His head and the girdle
round His waist, His outer garment, and His inner coat. This
little heap of peasant clothing, which was stained with blood
and marked with the trares of insult, lay at the foot of the
cross. One soldier took this piece, another soldier took that,
and the outer garment they divided into four parts; but when
it came to the inner coal, it could not be divided. For it the
soldiers cast lots, and some brutal legionary laughed aloud as
he won the seamless garment which Mary had woven for her
Son in Nazareth, and wherein mystics have seen the type of
Christ's undivided Church.

There was no death so cruel as that of crucifi.xion, because the
prisoner died not from the loss of blood, or in a short space
of time, but through the lingering agony of open wounds, and
the arrest of circulation at the extremities, and the tension of
the nervous system, and the oppression on the brain and heart.
Jesus would be crucified about ten^ o'clock, and He did not
die till shortly after three, so that for five hours He endured
this pain of torn nerves and intense thirst and racked body and
throbbing brain. It is in such circumstances that even the
bravest of men are apt to forget othei>; but it was in this su-
preme agony that our Lord fulfilled tiis own law that a man
should bethink himself in life not of his own need but of the
need of his brother man. Beside Him another man was endu-
ing the s-ime pain, who was suffering the punishment of his
own sin, and to this man, ignorant und hardened, was revealed
the spiritual beauty of our Master. While priests and Pharisees
denied His Messiahship, the penitent thief acknowledged the
authority of Jesus, even when that authority seemed to be vain
and useless. Unto Jesus he appealed, and Jesus he acknowl-

[289]

.^-

THE I-IFE or THE MASTER

edged to be a King, and in answer to this man's prayer, Jesus
broke silence for the second time with His word of mercy.
^, "Verily, I say unto you, this day shah thou be with Me in
Paradise."

By this time the women who loved the Lord had come to
Calvary, and with John were standing at a little distance.
They drew near under the irresistible influence of love, which
could not withdraw its eyes from the sufl^erings of Jesus, and
yet was torturing itself in utter helplessness. Jesus' eyes fell upon
His mother and upon His friend, and He forgot His own
pain in pity for His mother's sorrow. It was not for her to
see Him tortured and dying slowly on the cross. He also fore-
saw her loneliness after He was gone, and desired that she
should have the kindliest of substitutes for Himself, one who
would not only provide a home, but would share with her the
treasure of her love and of her hope. John was her sister's
son, and a man of the same spirit as the Virgin : he was Jesus-
dearest friend and one of His chief apostles. From the cross
Jesus committed His mother into the care of John, askmg
the Virgin to see in John another son who would take His
place till Mary and Jesus met in the Father's house, charging
John to accept the mother of his Lord and to deal with her
as he would with Salome. Whether or not we are to under-
stand that John took Mary away instantly to his own home,
it is likely that at least that most sympathetic and tenderest
of men withdrew her, who had been fitly called " Our Lady of
Sorrows," from a scene which could only break a mother's
.. heart, and that Mary did not return to the cross till all was
^jU over, when she was again allowed to touch the unconscious
body which in infancy she had nursed in Nazareth. This was
.5 the third word of the cross which was the word of filial

piety.

It is now twelve o'clock, and, according to the evangelists, a

[290]

U^>' ■' = rz

THE DEATH OI JESUS

sudden and awtul darkness veiled the scene, during which the
crowd stood m awestruck silence, and Jesus passed through
His supreme agony. What the Master then endurcl no hu-
man mind can imagine and it does not become any human
mind to speculate; but so fearful was the burden vipon His
soul that shortly before three o'clock, when the darkness lifted,
Jesus Christ cried aloud with a lamentable voice, •' My God, ./
My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?" which was the fourth
word of the cross and the word uf agony. Its measure is the
change from Father to God, — from "This is My i. loved
Son" to "Why hast Thou forsaken Me?"
At three o'clock the light began to return, and Jesus, exhausted
by a conflia which was rather spiritual than physical, spoke
to His guard and said, •• I thirst." With this confession of '
bodily weakness, and this humble request, the Master comes
very close to the heart, and proves Himself one touched with
a feeling of our infirmity. It was His only appeal for pity, and
it was made to the Romans. We arc thankful that it was not
made in vain, for a Roman soldier, whose name we should
be glad to know, and whose dying agony we trust was re-
lieved by some friendly hand, took the sponge which formed
the stopper of his wine flask, and soaking it in the poor wine
of a soldier's rations, placed the sponge on the end of a hyssop
stalk and laid it on the lips of Jesus. This one adt of kindness
Jesus received upon the cross, and this "I thirst" of Jesus
was the fifth of the seven words, and may be called the word
of Humanity.

The soldier was not allowed to render this kindly aft without
interference, for certain of the Jews had misunderstood the
words of Jesus' agony, and supposed that He had called not
upon God, but upon Elias, who, the Jews believed, would
appear before the Messiah and upon every great occasion of
the national life. They begged the soldier to stay his hand that

[291]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

they might wait for Elias, half expedting, as it appeared,
that the great prophet of the Old Testament would show
himself, but the soldier would not be hindered from succouring
Jesus. Afterwards, when he had moistened the Lord's lips, he
replied in irony, with a certain contempt of Jewish cruelty
and Jewish bigotry, " Let alone now ; we will wait for Elias."
When Jesus had received the wine, His strength, which had
run low, began to return, and His heart, which had sunk
through spiritual travail, was lifted. The end was not far off
now, and His work, was almost done. He had declared the
Gospel of God, and He had shown the charadter of the Father.
He had fulfilled the hope of ancient days, and established the
kingdom of God. Nothing more remained but that He should
die, and so He said with a loud voice, thinking of the com-
mission which He had received i'lom His Father and the work
of the three years, " It is finjshed" ; and this was the sixth of
the seven words, the word of perfedlion. Immediately there-
after the Master, from Whom none could take His life, but
Who was willing to lay it down for God and man, cried again
with a loud voice, " Father, into Thy hands I commend My
Spirit," and having endured His last pain, and having rendered
His last service, Jesus bowed His head and gave up the ghost,
and was at rest in the bosom of God. So the chief saint of our
race, and the chief victim of history, having drunk the cup of
reproach and hatred unto its dregs, and having loved His fel-
low-men unto death, died with the word "Father" on His
lips.

[292]

Epilogue: The Eternal Christ

HERE are four Christs known
to men, but there is only one
Living Christ who has created
Christianity and is the objedt
of faith to the Christian
Church.

There is the man who was
born at the beginning of this
era in Palestine, and gathered
a body of disciples, and pro-
duced an immense impression
on the people, and was credited with various miracles, and left
b :hind Him certain moving sayings, and was at last crucified.

"And on His grave, with shining eyes.
The Syrian stars look down."

It is necessary that an intelligent person should have those fadls
in his mind, for without an actual basis of fadt the life of
Christ dissolves into a dream, but the knowledge of this Christ
has no more spiritual effedt upon the human race than a biog-
raphy of Alexander or Socrates. This is the historical Christ.
The second Christ has touched the imagination of the finest
minds of the race, and has floated before them as a very lovely
and attradtive ideal. He looks down upon us from the Trans-
figuration of Raphael, He is the King Arthur of Tennyson's
Idylls, He lives in the beautiful deeds and sacrifices of St.

[293]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

;■(?«

Francis, He has done more for the most insensible and unro-
mantic of us than than we are aware, but this Christ one only
knows IS he might admire a piece of art. This is the poetical
Christ.

Another Christ came to fulfil the covenant of grace, and ren-
dered perfedl obedience to the Eternal Law, and expiated the
penalty of our sins, and rose again for our justification, and has
entered into Heaven to be the High Priest of God's House,
and shall come again to judge the world. As time went on
this Christ came to be little else than a frame on which the
embroidered garnients of dodtrine were laid, while beneath
their voluminous folds the Nazarene Himself is hidden and
forgotten. No one can love this lay figure any more than an
abstradlion of the study. This is the theological Christ.
There is still a fourth Christ, Who lies in no grave, VV ho needs
no pifture. Who is secluded in no Heaven ; Who revealed Him-
self to the disciples on the way to Emmaus ; Who was perse-
cuted by Saul of Tarsus ; Who arose from His throne to receive
the martyr Stephen; Who calls upon men to leave all and to
follow Him; Who suffers with every Christian that sorrows,
and toils in every Christian that serves, and rejoices with every
Christian that gets unto himself the vidlory; Who still wel-
comes Magdalene, and teaches Thomas, and guides Peter, and
is betrayed by Judas; Who still divides human opinion, is
adored or misunderstood, is still called "Master," or sent unto
the cross. This is the Living Christ, present, efFedlual, eternal.
When the Master gave up the Ghost on the cross, and pious
hands laid His weary body to rest in Joseph's tomb, had His
enemies finally triumphed, and was this the end of Jesus' life?
If one looks into it, this is the question of questions for the
minds of men, and beside it none is to be mentioned as re-
gards significance or consequences. For thirty-three years Jesus
had trusted in God, and loved His fellow-men, and lived above

[294]

THE ETERNAL CHRIST

this world, and trampled every idnd of sin under foot. He
claimed to be the Son of God, and to have come into this
world to do God's work. He laid down His life with pcrfedt
singleness of heart upon the cross, and He declared that God
would raise Him again from the dead. The Resurredtion was
to be the sanation of His life and death, it was to be the
prophecy and earnest of His power and glory. If He were
raised from the dead, then was He beyond doubt the Son of
God, and the Saviour of the world, Who had overcome the
enciiiy of the human race and opened the gates of immortality.
If His body saw corruption in Joseph's tomb, and none again
looked on Jesus Christ, then not only had the Pharisees and
priests attained their design and done their will upon the
Prophet of Nazareth, but sin has been unconquered and still
wields an unbroken sway over our race. With a satisfaction
tempered by nervous anxiety, His enemies saw Him die. With
bitter regret, untouched by hope. His disciples buried Him in
the Garden, and the very heart of human faith and of human
hope hangs upon the issue.

The event of the third day does not merely concern the Chris-
tian Church, it also gravely aFefts the destiny of the human
race. Whatever be a man's nation or a man's creed, whatever
may be his personal history or his moral charadter, the deepest
desire in his nature is for immortality — that when this short
life is closed with its limitatiom and its defeats, its sor-ows
and its sin, he may begin again under better circumstances in
another world. His profound but often unconfessed hope is that
he may be assured of this mortality by evidence that will
satisfy his reason and cause iight to arise in his darkness. No
doubt the Christ of Nazareth and of Jerusalem, who died at
the age of thirty-three, has been an incalculable addition to
the spiritual resources of humanity, and without Him the world
had been a darker and crueler place; but the supreme objed

[295]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

of faith for the human soul, and the great gift which the
Church presents unto the world, is the Christ who not only
died but also rose ngain and is alive for evermore. As often
as the disciples of Christ fail to realise this risen Christ and
minimise their Gospel of everlasting life, they are not only
unfaithful to their Master, but they also inflidl bitter disap-
pointment on the unbelieving world. There are n^ schools
where the world can learn philosophy and morality , there is
only oi.-; pulpit where this Evangel of Life is preached. When
that message is declared with unfaltering note and is supported
by reasonable evidence, then the heart of every hearer is in
alliance with the preacher, and what a man has hoped he is
now ready to believe.The resurredlion of Him Who was cru-
cified means that in the spiritual straits of life no man will be
left alone, that the crushing sorrows of life are not without
their more abundant consolation, that We are not finally separ-
ated from those whom we love, and have lost, and that the day
is yet to break upon this present night.

For any one to believe that Jesus, Whom the Romans cruci-
fied, and Whose death was verified by the soldier's spear, burst
the barriers of the tomb and appeared in the glory of a new
life, is one of the highest afts of faith, ana in its performance
a man is hindered by two influences, one of which has always
been present, and the other of which belongs to our own day.
It has been always difficult for any pfrrson to believe in another
world and an unseen life, simply because he has first been born
in-.o this present world and is largely governed by his senses.
We are accustomed to the things which we see and can handle
till it becomes a habit to consider the seen to be sure and the
unseen to be imaginary. It is a conversion of reason and a revo-
lution in our habits of thought when we conclude that the
seen is passing and the unseen is eternal: when the invisible
world overweighs and eclipses the visible: when the voices

[296]

THE ETERNAL CHRIST

from its mysterious province are clearer in our ears than the
voices of our fellow-men. This faith marks an advanced stage
in the spiritual history of the soul. In proportion as one car-
ries this world in his heart he is not able to believe in the
world which is to come; and in proportion as one is possessed
with the spirit of the other world, he can see the things which
eye hath not seen, and can hear the things which ear hath not

heard. And this was the reason, according to the Gospel,

and it is also a very deep parable,— that Jesus could pass
through the streets of Jerusalem in the days of His Resurrec-
tion unseen by priests and Pharisees, but was visible to St. John
and the disciples.

The other influence is modern, and one from which a person
in touch with his day can as little escape as he can resist the
impressions of the senses. We are not in our time speculative and
theological ; we are rather historical and scientific; our desire is
to know the fads of nature and of human life, to understand the
thingswhichare,ratherthanthereasonof their being. It is inevi-
table, therefore, that there should be a readlion from the former
conception of the Master, which treated Him as an exclusively
supernatural being and His work as a supernatural drama. We
turn from the Creeds fo the Gospels, and we seek Jesus not in
Nicea but in Galilee. Our desire is to learn the example of His
life, and to receive the teaching of wisdom at His lips, and
He has become to us, and not without great gain, a Master as
well as a Saviour. But it were greater loss if He were only a
Master and not a Saviour, and upon those terms we can never
appreciate Christ. The analogy between Plato and his disciples
can never be used to express the relation between Jesus and
the human soul by any person with a sense of proportion, or
without intelleftual frivolity. The moment that a Christian
comes to regard Jesus as a Greek regarded Plato, he has lost
the living Christ and is trifling with his religion. It matters to us '

[297]

THE LIFE OF THE MASIFR

nothing whether Plato is ii ive or dead, for we have the Repub-
lic. It is not enough tor us to have the CJospel ; we must also have
Jesus. His words are the guide ot' His disciples; He Himself
is His disciples' strength. He nly is a perfed disciple who
finds Jesus not only by the Lake of CJalilee and in the Upper
Room, but also beholds him by vision at the right hand of God,
and realises Jesus' Presence in his daily life.
Just because the Resurredlion of Christ means so much for hu-
man life its faith must not be grounded on sentiment, so that
we shall simply believe because we wish, and our reason shall
be swamped by our hearts. An intelligent person is bound by
his conscience to criticise the evidence for this great event, and
it is fortunate that the first witnesses are beyond reproach. The
testimony of the disciples to the revelation of the third day is as
strong as anything whicli can be produced for the best accred-
ited fadt in history. The apostles and the holy women were
absolutely simple and honest country folk, without any guile
of spirit or tricks of speech. There is not only no sign of artifice
in their testimony, but the reader is annoyed because they are
not more utterly overcome with excitement and amazement.
Nor can it be said that when the Lord appeared they saw what
they had expedled, and were in reality only reading from the
hope of their hearts instead of from the sight of their eyes. It
was not only St. Thomas, but also St. John and St. Peter, who
had sadly concluded, notwithstanding all that Jesus had said
to them, that their eyes would never again rest upon their be-
loved Master, but that He, like all men before Him, had fallen
before the great adversary. Their unbelief was indeed so great
that the apostles could not credit the report of the women,
and the most thoughtful of the apostles would not believe- His
own brethren, but declared that unless he could touch the very
wounds of Christ he could not accept the Lord's Resurrec-
tion. It was also in the last degree inexpedient and dangerous

[ 298 ]

THE ETERNAL CHUIST

for them to declare the Resurredion, since it was bouml to
bring upon them the enmity of the Jewisli rulers, and likely tt)
send them to their Master's death. Nothing but prolound con-
vidtion could have opened the mouths of the disciples and com-
pelled them, ill the face of the hostility of Jerusalem, to
declare that the priests had not won, but that Jesus had ob-
tained the vidtory. Upon these men also faith in the Resurrec-
tion produced its natural and conspicuous efFed, since one
cannot imagine any greater difference than between Simon, the
son of Jonas, denying his Lord through fear of a servant girl,
and St. Peter defying Jerusalem at the Day of Pentecost. Has
it ever been known in the annals of evidence that a body of
simple-minded men should bear witness to a fadl which before-
hand they were not able to believe, and whose declaration could
only involve them in the last danger, and in the end should
believe it so firmly that their faith has made them into heroes
and into saints.'

If the first disciples have borne convincing witness to the faft-
of the Resurredion, their sue cessors during eighteen centuries^
have united in their witness to the power of the Resurredlion.
Whether or not one be prepared to believe in the Resurredlion
of Jesus he mu t accept the fsdt that Jesus created a new so-
ciety upon the face of the earth which He called the king-
dom of God, and which is now called the Church..This society
owed its first success to the impulse of Jesus, and its life for a
short period after His death might be explained by the after
cfFcdl of Jesus' spirit and influence — a mere result of one of
the laws of spiritual motion. When, howev jr, Jesus had been
dead, say, fifty years, ".nd the last of the disciples who knew
and loved Him had died, then this society ought also to have
decayed and perished. On the contrary, it set out on a new
conquest, and, notwithstanding many a defeat and failure, has
gone since that day from strength to strength. Other re-

[299]

THE LIFE OF THE MASTER

ligions have no doubt lived and conquered after the founder's
death, but they have not been bound up i)y inextricable and
spiritual ties with their founder. Before Jesus died He gathered
His disciples in the Upper l^ooin and told then, of His depar-
ture. It seemed to them u hopeless and irredeemable dis^tster,
for on Him thi y had depended for wisdom and for inspiration:
present with Him they were strong, absent from Him they
were helpless. What would become of them after He had fin-
ally departed, and they were left alone to stand in the Hiidst
of the world ? He assurec em that the tic between Him and
tlun could never be broken, but that it would be spiritualised,
— that it was expedient for them that He should ^Icpart from
their r ,ht because He would return to fheir hearts. During
the ages to come they were to abide in His love, and He
would abide in their lives, and all His grace would be at their
service and in them He would reveal Himself in wcvd and
deed unto the /orld.

(This was the promise of Jesus, and history is the witness of
^its fulfillment. The mysterious union of human souls with the
Liviiig Christ, which constitutes the stren<»th of the Christian
Church, has been proved by signs and wonders. It has been
proved by the days in which the Church lost her sense of
Divine fellowship and became cold and urSelieving; then the
Church sank into an irreligious and worldly institution, help-
less, hopeless, and corrupt. It has been proved by the days of
revival, when the Church returned unto her first love and
faith; then she arose in her might and conquered new prov-
inces of the world, radiant, strong, and *riumphant. From time
to time the teaching of Jesus, like seed -own in the ground,
has been visited by a springtime, and the commandments of
Jesus judged to be ideal and quixotic have been embodied in
the laws of countries and the institutions of society. Private
individuals living naTow and lonely lives have shown them-

[300]

THE ETERNAL CHRIST

8el\«. _..|.uOle of heroic sacrifices, and, what is still finer, of
patit. continuance in commonplace duty, so that Heaven has
been brought into earthly homrs, and this, accori'*n(; to their
testimony, has been due to the presence and gruce ot' Jesus
Christ. The apology for Christianity is not c(>ntaincil in the
writings of scholars, hut in the triumph of martyrs, in the joy
of mourners, in the holiness of saints. If the Church as a body,
and her members as single disciples, declare that their weak-
ness has arisen from the absence of Christ, dri\cn away by
unbelief, and their strength has alone come from Christ when
He returned in the power of His Spirit, what can be said
against such witness? and why should it not be accepted as
true? There is such a thing as the mirage of the desert, which has
mocked the dying traveller, and the history of religion affords
fantastic notions which have be. ii the craze of society for a
day and have vanished away. No one with a serious face can
make any comparison between the.se passing delu^'jnsand the
taith of Christ. There is also the oasis where the gra.ss is green
and the palm trees stand ereft in thjir beauty, and the reason
thereof is the unfailing spring which rises from the heart of
the ea'-'-h and yields its living viter to the traveller as he jour-
neys aci ,s the desert from the land which he has lei' to the
land which he has never seen. That spring is the Spirit of the
living Christ, Who "was dead," and is "alive for evermore" :
Who remaineth from age to age the strength and hope of the
Race into which He was born and for which He died.

Z.^"?

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[the end]