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THE 

GREATER     MEN    AND    WOMEN 
OF    THE     BIBLE 


THE  GREATER 

MEN   AND   WOMEN 

OF   THE    BIBLE 


EDITED    BY    THE    REV. 


JAMES  HASTINGS,   D.D. 

EDITOR   OF    "THE   EXPOSITORY   TIMES FHE    DICTIONARY   OF   THE    BIBL* 

"THE    DICTIONARY    OF    CHRIST    AND    THE    GOSPELS"     AND 
"THE    ENCYCLOPEDIA    OK    RELIGION    AND    ETHICS" 


MARY  — SIMON 


Edinburgh:  T.    &  T.    CLARK,   38  George  Street 


PRINTED   IN  GREAT   BRITAIN   BY 
MORRISON    AND    GIBB     LIMITED 

FOR 
T.  A   T.   CLARK,   EDINBURGH 


FIKST  IMPRESSION    ....  November  1915 

SECOND  IMPRESSION    .    .    .  May          1920 

THIRD  IMPRESSION  ....  November  1923 

FOUHTH  IMPRESSION     .     .     .  January     1938 


INDEX    TO    CONTENTS. 


NAMES  AND  SUBJECTS. 

Andrew  .  .  .          .    ill 

THE  DISCIPLE          .  .  .  .  ,  .116 

THE  MISSIONARY     .  .  .  .  .  .122 

THE  BROTHER         .  ...     127 

Caiaphas          .  ....  385 

His  CONDUCT          ....  .    388 

His  CHARACTER       ......    392 

Herod  Antipas  .  .          .    419 

HEROD  AND  JOHN   .  .  .  .  .  .421 

HEROD  AND  JESUS  ......    425 

Herod  the  Great      .....  .36 

His  GREATNESS       .  .  .  .  .  .37 

His  TYRANNY          .  .  .  .  .  .40 

His  DOMESTIC  SINS  .  .  .  .  .43 

His  RELATION  TO  THE  MESSIAH  .  .  .  .46 

James  the  Apostle  .          .          .    131 

ZEALOUS  BY  NATURE  AND  BY  GRACE       .  .  .137 

JEALOUS  BY  NATURE  AND  BY  GRACE        .  .  .     139 

AMBITIOUS  BY  NATURE  AND  BY  GRACE    .  .  .     144 

John  the  Baptist      .  ....     61 

I.  JOHN  AND  THE  JEWS     ......     63 

AT  HOME      .......      64 

IN  THE  WILDERNESS  .  .  .  .  .69 

II.  JOHN  AND  JESUS.  .  75 

JOHN'S  BAPTISM  OF  JESUS  .  79 

JOHN'S  TKSTIMONY  TO  JESUS  86 


vi  INDEX  TO  CONTENTS 

John  the   Baptist — continued. 

PAUB 

III.  JOHN  AND  HEROD          .          .          .          .          .          .95 

THE  DEPUTATION  TO  JKSUS  .  .  «  .97 

THE  DEATH  OF  JOHN         .....     103 

Judas  Iscariot  .....  .243 

I.  THE  MAN   .....  .    245 

II.  THE  APOSTLE       ....  .    259 

III.  THE  TRAITOR  .  ...    273 

WAS  His  CONDUCT  SATANIC?  .  .  .  274 

WAS  His  CONDUCT  PATRIOTIC?  .  .  .  276 

WHAT  WERE  His  MOTIVES?  ....  279 

IV.  THE  EXAMPLE       .  ....  287 

THE  LOST  OPPORTUNITY     .....    288 
THE  GRADUAL  DESCENT     .  .  .  .  291 

THE  GIFT  AND  THE  TEMPTATION  .  .  294 

TREACHERY  .....  .297 

Martha  and   Mary    .  ....    317 

BETHANY      .  .....     321 

THE  HOME  IN  BETHANY  .  .  .  .  .323 

THE  SISTERS  .....    328 

Martha  ...    337 

MARTHA'S  FAULTS  ......    339 

MARTHA'S  FAITH     ......     349 

Mary       .  .  353 

THE  LEARNER  ......  356 

THE  MOURNER  ......  358 

THE  WORSHIPPER  ......  359 

Mary  Magdalene  .  .    301 

WHAT  WE  KNOW  OF  MARY  MAGDALENE  .  .  .     303 

WHAT  WE  MAY  LEARN  FROM  HER  .  .  .    310 

Mary  the  Virgin      .  i 

I.  THE  EVENTS  IN  MARY'S  LIFE   .....       3 

II.  THE  ELEMENTS  OF  MARY'S  CHARACTER        .          .          .23 

HER  FAITH  .......       24 

HER  OBEDIENCE      .  .  .  .  .  .26 

HER  HUMILITY        ....  .28 

HER  PURITY  .  .30 

HER  THOUGHTFULNESS       .  .31 


INDEX  TO  CONTENTS  vii 

PAN 

Matthew                               .          .  .          .          .          .207 

MATTHEW  THE  PUBLICAW    .  .                                     .     809 

MATTHKW  THE  CHRISTIAN.  .     212 

MATTHEW  THE  EVANGELIST  ....     218 

MATTHEW  THE  WRITER       .  .                 222 

Nathanael  225 

NATHANAEL'S  CALL  .....     229 

NATHANAEL'S  CHARACTER  .....     234 
NATHANAEL'S  CONFESSION  .....     237 

Nicodemus       .                              .....  369 

COMING  TO  CHRIST  ......  372 

SEEKING  LIGHT        ......  374 

THE  DIVINE  TEACHER        .....  375 

THE  HEART  OF  CHRISTIANITY        ....  377 

THE  SPIRIT  OF  GOD  .  .  .  .  .381 

NOT  ASHAMED  OF  CHRIST  .....  382 

Philip                                              .          .          .  .  .149 

PHILIP  AND  THE  MESSIAH.            .            .  .  .153 

PHILIP  AND  THE  MULTITUDE         .            .  .  .157 

PHILIP  AND  THE  GREEKS  .            .            .  .  .160 

PHILIP  AND  THE  FATHER  ...  .161 

Pilate       .  401 

UNBELIEF     .  ......  407 

WORLDLINESB  ......  409 

WEAKNESS    .......  411 

Simon  of  Cyrene      .          .          .          .          .          .          .429 

SIMON'S  UNEXPECTED  OPPORTUNITY  .  .  .     434 

SIMON'S  IMMEASURABLE  GAIN        ....     439 

Thomas  .  .          .          .          .    171 

I.  WHO  WAS  THOMAS  ?  ....    173 

AT  THE  RAISING  OF  LAZARUB       .  .  .  .174 

IN  THE  UPPER  ROOM          .  .  .  .  .176 

ABSENT         .......     178 

PRESENT       .  .  .  .  .  .  .181 

II.  WHAT  WAS  THOMAS?      .          .          .          .          .          .189 

WAS  HE  A  DOUBTER?        .....     190 

WAS  HE  A  PESSIMIST?  ....     li>C 

WAS  HB  A  HEROIC  LOVKR?  201 


Vlll 


INDEX  TO  CONTENTS 


TEXTS. 

MATTHEW. 


II.  1  . 

IV.  21 

IX.  9  . 

X.  3  . 

XI.  11 

XIV.  3,  4 

XXVI.  25 

XXVII.  32 


I.  16,  17 

XV.  21 


I.  42 

II.   19 

X.  38-42 

X.  41 

X.  42 

XXIII.  8,  9 
XXIII.  26 


I.  19-23 

I.  47 
III.  1   . 
VI.  70,  71 
XI.  16 

XIII.  21 

XIV.  5  . 
XIV.  8  . 

XVII.  11,  12 
XVIII.  14 
XIX.  22 
XX.  13 
XX.  24 
XX  25 
XX.  28 
XX.  29 


XII.  I  . 


MARK. 


LUKE. 


JOHN. 


ACTS. 


PA6R 

37 
133 

209 

209 

53 

95 

245 

431 


113 
431 


3 

23 
319 
339 
355 
421 
431 


.  75 

.  227 

.  371 

.  259 

.  174 

.  273 

.  176 

.  151 

.  287 

.  387 

.  403 

.  303 

.  173 

178,  189 

.  189 
181 


.  133 


MARY  THE  VIRGIN. 

I. 

THE  EVENTS  IN  MARY'S  LIFE, 


MARY-SIMON — f 


LITERATURE. 

Adeney,  W.  F.,  Women  of  the  New  Testament  (1899),  1,  U. 

Bushnell,  H.,  Sermons  on  Living  Subjects  (1872),  9. 

Dawson,  W.  J.,  The  Reproach  of  Christ  (1903),  139. 

Gibbon,  J.  M.,  The  Veil  and  the  Vision  (1914),  46. 

Hancock,  B.,  Free  Bondmen  (1913),  1. 

M'Intyre,  D.  M.,  The  Upper  Room  Company  (1906),  123. 

Newman,  J.  H.,  Parochial  and  Plain  Sermons,  ii.  (1868)  127. 

Orchard,  W.  E.,  Advent  Sermons  (1914),  53. 

Palmer,  A.  S.,  The  Motherhood  of  God  (1903),  104. 

Plummer,  A.,  The  Humanity  of  Christ,  132. 

Ramsay,  W.  M.,  Pauline  and  Other  Studies  (1906),  125. 

Robertson,  F.  W.,  Sermons,  ii,  (1875)  220. 

Sanday,  W.,  in  Critical  Questions  (1903),  123. 

Smith,  D.,  The  Days  of  His  Flesh  (1905). 

Spurr,  F.  C.,  The  Holy  Family,  13. 

Vaughan,  C.  J.,  Doncaster  Sermons  (1891),  364. 

Watson,  J.,  The  Life  of  the  Master  (1902),  53. 

Whyte,  A.,  Bible  Characters  :  Joseph  and  Mary  to  James  (1900),  1. 

Christian  World  Pulpit,  Ixiii.  (1903)  65  (W.  Sanday). 

Congregationalist,  i.  (1872)  474. 

Dictionary  of  the  Bible,  iii.  (1900)  286  (J.  B.  Mayor). 

Dictionary  of  Christ  and  the  Gospels,  ii.  (1908)  140  (J.  M.  Harden). 

Encyclopedia  of  Religion  and  Ethics  t  viii.  (1915)  474  (J.  Cooper). 


THE  EVENTS  IN  MARVS  LIFE. 

Blessed  art  thou  among  women.— Luke  i.  42. 

WHERETO  shall  we  liken  this  Blessed  Mary  Virgin, 
Fruitful  shoot  from  Jesse's  root  graciously  emerging? 
Lily  we  might  call  her,  but  Christ  alone  is  white; 
Rose  delicious,  but  that  Jesus  is  the  one  Delight; 
Flower  of  women,  but  her  Firstborn  is  mankind's  one  flower : 
He  the  Sun  lights  up  all  moons  thro'  their  radiant  hour. 
"  Blessed  among  women,  highly  favoured,"  thus 
Glorious  Gabriel  hailed  her,  teaching  words  to  us : 
Whom  devoutly  copying  we  too  cry  "  All  hail ! " 
Echoing  on  the  music  of  glorious  Gabriel.1 

1.  Many  qualities  go  to  the  making  of  that  image  of  the  Perfect 
Woman  which  every  man  carries  in  his  heart  and  first  associates 
with  his  mother,  which  he  protects  from  the  stain  of  every  evil 
thought,  and  which  is  daily  alluring  him  to  holiness.  Beauty  is 
here  in  the  nature  of  things,  for  one  does  not  think  of  form  and 
colour,  but  of  the  soul,  which  makes  heaven  of  the  face ;  and  it  is 
not  merely  the  unbroken  tradition  of  the  Church,  or  the  fame  of 
the  women  of  Nazareth,  but  a  sense  of  fitness  as  we  read  her  life, 
that  represents  the  Virgin  with  a  face  of  meek  and  holy  loveli 
ness,  as  becomes  "  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  sensitive  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 

1  Chriitina  O.  Rossetti,  Poetical  Works,  173, 
3 


4  MARY  THE  VIRGIN 

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  presence  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. 

TI  Mighty  is  the  force  of  motherhood !  says  the  great  tragic 
poet  to  us  across  the  ages,  finding,  as  usual,  the  simplest  words  for 
the  sublimest  fact — favlv  rb  rixrsiv  <ffTiv.  It  transforms  all  things 
by  its  vital  heat;  it  turns  timidity  into  fierce  courage,  and  dread- 
less  defiance  into  tremulous  submission  ;  it  turns  thoughtlessness 
into  foresight,  and  yet  stills  all  anxiety  into  calm  content ;  it  makes 
selfishness  become  self-denial,  and  gives  even  to  hard  vanity  the 
glance  of  admiring  love.1 

TJ  Mary  of  Nazareth,  the  mother  of  our  Lord,  was  the  only 
mother  in  the  world  that  ever  found  it  an  impossibility  to  make 
an  idol  of  her  child.  There  were  many  virgins  in  Israel  in  the 
days  of  Herod  the  Great,  but  only  to  Mary  was  the  lofty  privilege 
given  to  bear  on  her  maternal  breast  the  Bright  and  Morning 
Star,  as  the  blue  heavens  bear  up  the  star  of  day — the  noon-day 
sun.  So  old  pious  masters  had  been  used  to  represent  the  mother 
robed  in  blue — in  blue  raiment — with  the  sunlight  beating  upon 
her  breast.  She  had  the  lofty  privilege  to  be  the  mother  of  our 
Lord — a  lofty  privilege  of  which  all  mothers  of  the  race  might 
well  have  been  ambitious,  down  from  that  Eve,  the  mother  of  us 
all,  who  said,  "  I  have  got  a  man,"  or  rather  the  man,  thinking 
she  had  got  the  promised  Lord.  Poor  Eve !  like  many  of  her 
daughters  after  her.  Well  might  the  angel  Gabriel  salute  Mary 
with  "  Blessed  of  the  Lord  art  thou  among  women " ;  and  her 
cousin  repeat  the  salutation — "  Blessed  art  thou  " ;  and  that  she 
herself  should  sing — "My  soul  doth  magnify  the  Lord;  my  spirit 
hath  rejoiced  in  God  my  Saviour,  for  he  hath  regarded  the  low 
estate  of  his  handmaiden."2 

2.  When  we  escape  from  the  weary  labyrinth  of  legend  that  the 
fancy  of  centuries  has  woven  round  the  name  of  Mary,  and 
resolutely  confine  our  attention  to  those  traits  of  her  character 

1  Georgf  Eliot,  Scenes  of  Clerical  Life  ("Janet's  Repentance"). 
1  W.  B.  Robertson,  in  Life,  by  A.  Guthrie,  326, 


THE   EVENTS  IN  MARY'S  LIFE  5 

which  are  indicated  in  the  gospel  records,  we  may  suffer  some 
disappointment  on  discovering  how  few  and  faint  they  are. 
Compared  with  the  picture  of  Jesus  that  comes  to  us  down  the 
ages,  still  vivid  in  its  convincing  realism,  the  New  Testament 
portrait  of  the  Virgin  is  but  a  dim  shadow,  flitting  across  the 
page  for  a  moment  here  and  there,  and  then  fading  away  into 
total  obscurity.  So  marked  is  this  contrast  that  we  are  almost 
tempted  to  suspect  a  deliberate  design  on  the  part  of  the 
Evangelists  to  reduce  the  mother  to  relative  insignificance  in  the 
presence  of  her  Divine  Son.  And  yet  the  narratives  arc  too 
artless  to  admit  of  any  such  subtlety.  The  simpler  explanation 
is  that  this  slightness  of  texture  is  itself  a  note  of  genuine 
portraiture;  for  the  reason  that  Mary  was  of  a  retiring  nature, 
unobtrusive,  reticent,  perhaps  even  shrinking  from  observation,  so 
that  the  impress  of  her  personality  was  confined  to  the  sweet 
sanctities  of  the  home  circle. 

It  is  noticeable  that  among  the  Evangelists  St.  Luke  alone 
gives  a  full  and  intimate  account  of  the  Mother  of  our  Lord.  St. 
Matthew  commences  his  Gospel  with  the  briefest  possible  memoir 
of  Mary,  passing  at  once  to  the  scenes  in  .Bethlehem,  and  the  visit 
of  the  wise  men  ;  St.  Mark  commences  with  the  public  ministry  of 
Christ ;  St.  John,  who  is  the  interpreter  of  ideas  rather  than  the 
biographer,  is  entirely  silent  on  these  matters.  It  is  to  St.  Luke 
that  we  owe  the  story  of  the  journey  to  Bethlehem,  the  story  of 
the  shepherds  in  the  fields  by  night  who  hear  a  wind-borne 
heavenly  music,  and  all  the  earlier  stories  of  the  visit  of  Mary  to 
Elisabeth,  the  scenes  at  the  circumcision  of  Christ,  the  blessing  of 
Simeon  and  the  prophecies  of  Anna.  The  last  time  that  Mary  is 
mentioned  in  the  New  Testament  is  in  the  opening  chapter  of  the 
Acts  of  the  Apostles,  which  is  also  the  work  of  St.  Luke ;  and  he 
alone  records  the  deeply  interesting  fact  of  her  association  with 
the  infant  Church. 

I. 

Mary  first  meets  us  at  a  time  when  she  can  scarcely  have 
crossed  the  threshold  of  womanhood.  Marriage  is  early  in  tho 
East ;  and  a  Jewish  maiden  still  only  betrothed  and  looking 
forward  to  her  wedding  as  an  event  of  the  future  must  be  very 
young,  a  girl  hardly  full  grown.  To  this  child,  brought  up  in  a 


6  MARY  THE  VIRGIN 

peasant's  home,  accustomed  to  the  little  round  of  daily  duties  that 
is  the  lot  of  the  daughters  of  the  poor,  wholly  ignorant  of  the 
great  world  and  its  ways,  there  comes  the  most  startling  and  over 
whelming  revelation.  She  is  to  be  the  mother  of  the  promised 
Redeemer  of  her  people!  Her  first  thoughts  could  not  but  be 
full  of  bewilderment  and  dismay.  The  hope  and  the  terror  of 
expectant  motherhood  are  upon  her ! 

Wonder  and  alarm  are  Mary's  most  natural  feelings  at  the 
moment  when  the  amazing  truth  dawns  upon  her.  But  as  she 
gathers  assurance  she  bows  in  quiet  submission.  This  is  the 
Evangelist's  conclusion.  Mary  is  the  handmaid  of  the  Lord ;  let 
it  be  to  her  as  His  messenger  has  said.  As  yet  there  is  no  word 
of  joy,  no  note  of  exultation,  no  sign  of  triumph.  The  trembling 
girl  simply  accepts  the  tremendous  fact  as  the  will  of  her 
Lord. 

TI  Painters  of  various  schools  have  given  us  their  several 
interpretations  of  the  Annunciation,  but  perhaps  none  have  seized 
upon  the  purely  human  aspect  of  the  scene  so  evidently  as 
Rossetti.  It  may  be  said  that  the  nineteenth-century  pre- 
Raffaelite  artist  cannot  emancipate  himself  from  the  age  in  which 
he  lives,  and  in  spite  of  his  archaic  sympathies  is  still  essentially 
modern  in  thought,  so  that  the  expression  of  his  Madonna  is  also 
distinctly  modern.  And  yet  it  is  only  modern  in  the  sense  that 
it  is  frankly  human.  Rossetti  tells  what  the  old  painters  with  a 
fine  reticence  concealed.  To  them  the  Divine  glory  of  Gabriel's 
message  extinguished  all  earthly  considerations  in  its  ineffable 
splendour.  To  us  the  study  of  the  Nazareth  maiden  in  this 
crisis  when  she  suddenly  passes  from  girlhood  to  womanhood  in 
its  most  profound  significance  cannot  but  be  of  primary  interest. 
We  want  to  know  how  it  affected  her  girlish  consciousness  ;  and 
Rossetti,  who,  if  not  exactly  a  theologian,  is  a  poetic  interpreter 
of  human  life,  clearly  answers  that  question.  Mary  shrinks  from 
the  splendid  angel,  almost  cowers  at  his  feet ;  but  not  because  she 
is  dazzled  by  the  coining  into  her  presence  of  one  of  his  lofty 
estate,  for  she  fixes  her  eyes  upon  him  in  a  steadfast  gaze.  Those 
dark  eyes  have  in  them  the  terror  of  the  hunted  deer.  It  is  not 
Gabriel,  it  is  his  overwhelming  message,  that  smites  her  with 
alarm.  Her  maiden  modesty  is  troubled.  There  is  nothing  of 
the  joyous  gratitude  of  the  Magnificat  in  the  picture.  And  yet 
is  not  this  just  such  an  attitude  as  would  be  natural  to  the 
startled  innocence  of  a  peasant  girl  ? l 

•  W.  F.  Adeney,  Women  of  the  New  Testament,  4. 


THE   EVENTS   IN  MARY'S   LIFE 

This  is  that  blessed  Mary,  pre-elect 

God's  Virgin.     Gone  is  a  great  while,  and  she 
Dwelt  young  in  Nazareth  of  Galilee. 

Unto  God's  will  she  brought  devout  respect, 

Profound  simplicity  of  intellect, 

And  supreme  patience.     From  her  mother's  knee 
Faithful  and  hopeful ;    wise  in  charity ; 

Strong  in  grave  peace ;   in  pity  circumspect. 

So  held  she  through  her  girlhood ;   as  it  were 
An  angel-watered  lily,  that  near  God 

Grows  and  is  quiet.     Till,  one  dawn  at  home 
She  woke  in  her  white  bed,  and  had  no  fear 
At  all, — yet  wept  till  sunshine,  and  felt  awed: 
Because  the  fulness  of  the  time  was  come.1 


II. 

"  Mary  arose  these  days,  and  went  into  the  hill  country  with 
haste,  into  a  city  of  Judah,"  where  she  found  refuge  in  the  house 
of  Zacharias  and  Elisabeth.  She  arose  in  haste;  for  her  journey 
was  both  an  expulsion  and  a  flight.  Fear  of  shame  and  unkind- 
lieas  made  her  an  exile ;  and  this  was  the  first  act  in  the  long  and 
sorrowful  drama  of  her  life. 

U  She  is  a  happy  maiden  who  has  a  mother  or  a  motherly 
friend  much  experienced  in  the  ways  of  the  human  heart  to  whom 
she  can  tell  all  her  anxieties ;  a  wise,  tender,  much-experienced 
counsellor,  such  as  Naomi  was  to  Ruth,  and  Elisabeth  to  Mary. 
Was  the  Virgin  an  orphan,  or  was  Mary's  mother  such  a  woman 
that  Mary  could  have  opened  her  heart  to  any  stranger  rather 
than  to  her  ?  Be  that  as  it  may,  Mary  found  a  true  mother  in 
Elisabeth  of  Hebron.  Many  a  holy  hour  the  two  women  spent 
together  sitting  under  the  terebinths  that  overhung  the  dumb 
Xacharias's  secluded  house.  And,  if  at  any  time  their  faith 
wavered  and  the  thing  seemed  impossible,  was  not  Zacharius 
beside  them  with  his  sealed  lips  and  his  writing-table,  a  living 
witness  to  the  goodness  and  severity  of  God?  How  Mary  and 
Elisabeth  would  stagger  and  reason  and  rebuke  and  comfort  one 
another,  now  laughing  like  Sarah,  now  singing  like  Hannah,  let 
loving  and  confiding  and  pious  women  tell.2 

1  I).  G.  Kossotti,  Collected  Works,  i.  353. 
*  A.  Whyte. 


MARY  THE  VIRGIN 


III. 

Mtnths  passed,  and  a  new  cause  of  pain  arose  in  the  census  of 
C.esar  Augustus.  Whatever  was  the  nature  of  the  imperial  edict, 
it  became  necessary  for  Joseph  and  Mary  to  visit  Bethlehem  ;  and 
for  Mary  the  journey  was  full  of  peril  and  alarm.  On  that  starry 
night,  then,  long  ago,  behold  these  two  fugitives  from  Nazareth 
drawing  near  to  Bethlehem,  full  of  fear  and  hope,  and  conscious, 
too,  of  a  force  of  destiny  which  holds  their  feet  in  a  pre-appointed 
way.  It  is  the  smallest  of  the  towns  of  Judah  they  approach  ;  a 
cluster  of  grey  houses  on  a  limestone  cliff.  At  the  base  of  the 
hill  stands  Rachel's  tomb,  that  pathetic  memorial  of  a  man's  love, 
and  of  a  woman's  travail  and  untimely  death.  How  significant 
would  it  appear  to  this  woman  whose  hour  had  come !  With 
what  a  sidelong  glance  of  fear  and  apprehension,  perhaps  of 
natural  presentiment,  would  she  regard  it !  But  there  was  more 
than  fear  in  Mary's  heart  that  night ;  surely  faith  shone  like  a 
torch  upon  her  path.  It  was  perhaps  not  of  Rachel  she  thought 
so  much  as  of  Ruth — Ruth  the  Moabitess,  her  own  far-off  kins 
woman,  driven  into  Bethlehem  by  calamity  and  misfortune,  to  find 
herself  the  unexpected  mother  of  a  race  of  kings.  Nor  would  she 
forget  the  ancient  prophecy  of  Micah,  that  little  as  Bethlehem  was 
among  the  thousands  of  Judah,  yet  out  of  it  should  come  One 
who  should  be  the  "  ruler  of  Israel,  whose  goings  forth  have  been 
from  of  old,  from  everlasting."  There  were  strange  portents  in 
the  sky  that  night,  but  Mary  saw  them  not.  Faith  alone  was  her 
star  as  she  climbed  the  weary  hill.  In  the  crowded  market-place 
she  stands,  lonely,  confused,  insignificant,  unrecognized.  No  door 
is  opened  to  the  suffering  woman,  not  because  the  fine  traditional 
hospitality  of  the  Jew  has  failed,  but  because  already  every  house 
is  thronged  with  exiles  like  herself.  There  is  no  place  of  refuge 
for  her  but  a  rough  chamber,  hewn  in  the  limestone  cliff,  and  used 
as  a  stable.  How  great  the  contrast  between  that  Divine  dream 
which  stirred  her  heart  with  rapture  and  this  grim  reality  of  pain 
and  poverty !  Was  it  thus  that  kings  were  born  ?  Was  it  in 
such  a  rude  abode  that  the  mother  of  the  Christ  should  taste  the 
joy  and  pain  of  motherhood  ?  Even  so  was  it  ordained  ;  for  it  was 
God's  will  that  in  all  things  Mary  should  prove  her  faith,  and  live 
by  faith,  not  by  sight.  She  pondered  in  her  heart  the  things  the 


THE   EVENTS   IN   MARY'S  LIFE  9 

angel  had  told  her;  and  never  were  they  sweeter  than  in  this  hour 
when  her  first-born  Son  lay  upon  her  bosom.  If  God  denied  to 
her  what  He  gave  to  shepherds  on  the  plain,  and  to  Magians  far 
off  in  the  mysterious  East,  this  at  least  He  gave  her,  the  light  of 
faith  in  that  rude  stable ;  and  her  blessedness  was  that,  not  having 
seen,  she  had  believed. 

A  month  later,  in  obedience  to  the  Law,  Mary,  accompanied 
by  Joseph,  took  her  Child  from  Bethlehem  to  Jerusalem,  at  once 
to  make  the  offering  for  her  own  purification  and  to  pay  the  live 
shekels  which  were  the  ransom  for  the  life  of  her  first-born  Son. 
The  offering  of  purification  was  properly  a  lamb,  but  in  cas-e  of 
poverty  "  a  pair  of  turt  ledoves,  or  two  young  pigeons  "  sufficed ; 
and  this  "  offering  of  the  poor,"  as  it  was  called,  was  all  that  Mary 
could  afford.  There  was  in  Jerusalem  in  those  days  an  aged  saint 
named  Simeon,  one  of  those  who  in  that  dark  and  calamitous  time 
were  expecting  the  Dayspring  from  on  high  and  the  consolation 
of  Israel.  "  It  had  been  revealed  to  him  that  he  should  not  see 
death,  before  he  had  seen  the  Lord's  Christ";  and,  like  an  im 
prisoned  exile,  he  was  yearning  for  his  release.  He  was  in  the 
sacred  court,  engaged  in  the  offices  of  devotion,  when  the  Holy 
family  entered ;  and,  recognizing  the  Child,  he  took  Him  in  his 
arms  and  blessed  God  with  a  glad  heart :  "  Lord,  now  lettest  thou 
thy  servant  depart  in  peace,  according  to  thy  word ;  for  mine  eyes 
have  seen  thy  salvation."  Not  in  vain  had  Simeon  mused  on  the 
Messianic  Scriptures.  While  his  contemporaries  were  dreaming 
of  a  victorious  King,  he  had  laid  to  heart  the  prophecies  of  a 
suffering  Kedeemer ;  and  he  forewarned  Mary  what  would  be : 
"  Behold,  this  child  is  set  for  the  fall  and  rising  again  of  many  in 
Israel,  and  for  a  sign  which  shall  be  spoken  against  (yea,  a  sword 
shall  pierce  through  thine  own  soul  also),  that  the  thoughts  of 
many  hearts  may  be  revealed." 

While  Simeon  was  speaking,  another  saint  appeared  on  the 
scene — an  aged  prophetess  named  Anna,  who,  since  she  had  been 
a  widow  for  eighty-four  years,  must  have  been  over  a  hundred 
years  of  age.  She  haunted  the  Temple,  giving  herself  night  and 
day  to  fasting  and  prayer.  Entering  the  sacred  court  while 
Simeon  was  still  speaking,  she  took  up  the  refrain  of  praise,  and 
afterwards  spoke  of  the  Holy  Child  to  such  as,  like  herself, 
"expected  Jerusalem's  redemption,"  quickening  their  hope  and 


io  MARY  THE  VIRGIN 

preparing  a  welcome  for  Him  when  He  should  be  manifested  unto 
Israel. 

IV. 

So  far  had  the  education  of  Jesus  been  carried,  when  He  was 
but  twelve  years  old,  that  He  was  already  entered  into  the  great 
questions  of  the  doctors,  and  was  so  profoundly  taken  by  their 
high  discussions  overheard  in  the  Temple  that  He  must  needs 
have  a  part  in  them  Himself,  asking  questions  of  His  own.  All 
this  He  did  with  so  little  appearance  of  pertness,  and  such 
wonderful  beauty  of  manner,  as  well  as  in  a  tone  so  nearly  Divine, 
that  they  could  only  be  "  astonished  at  his  understanding  and 
answers."  And  there  next  day  He  was  found  by  Joseph  and 
Mary,  when  He  should  have  been  a  whole  day's  journey  on  His 
way  back  with  them  to  Galilee.  They  remonstrated  with  Him 
only  in  the  gentlest  and  most  nearly  reverent  manner,  and 
had  nothing  more  to  say  when  He  answered :  "  How  is  it 
that  ye  sought  me  ?  wist  ye  not  that  I  must  be  in  my  Father's 
house  ? " 

Her  Son's  striking  answer  must  have  conveyed  to  Mary  a 
rebuke.  We  cannot  suppose  that  Jesus  intended  anything  of  the 
kind.  He  was  far  too  dutiful  a  son  to  be  found  taking  upon  Him 
the  part  of  mentor  to  His  mother.  We  should  do  a  great  wrong 
to  our  idea  of  the  Divine  Child  if  we  credited  Him  with  conduct 
which  in  any  other  boy  of  twelve  years  would  be  justly  designated 
priggish.  Most  assuredly  He  spoke  in  absolute  simplicity — "  Did 
you  not  know  that  I  must  be  in  my  Father's  house  ? "  He  had 
not  imagined  that  they  would  search  the  whole  city  before  looking 
for  Him  in  the  Temple.  He  had  assumed  that  if  they  had  wanted 
Him  this  was  the  first  place  where  they  would  have  looked  for 
Him,  because  it  was  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world  that  He 
should  be  there.  What  more  likely  place  is  there  in  which  to  find 
a  child  than  his  father's  house  ?  What  more  appropriate  duty 
than  his  father's  business  ?  But  at  that  innocent  saying  of  His, 
spoken  in  the  simplicity  of  childhood,  Mary  felt  the  first  chill 
approach  of  the  terrible  sword  which  was  to  pierce  her  to  the 
heart  in  later  years.  Here  was  something  for  her  to  ponder 
over ;  and  at  this  point  St.  Luke  repeats  his  significant  state 
ment  that  Mary  "  kept  all  these  sayings  in  her  heart."  Yet  he 


THE  EVENTS  IN   MARY'S  LIFE  11 

is  careful  to  tell  us  that  Jesus  still  remained  "  subject  unto  "  His 
parents. 

U  There  is  working  to-day  in  England  a  man,  of  whom  most  of 
you  nave  heard,  but  whom  I  hesitate  to  name,  who  is  serving  in 
a  high  position,  but  serving  as  simply  and  humbly  as  though  he 
passed  his  days  in  a  cottage ;  he  might  be  obscure,  so  childlike  is 
he,  and  so  simple  in  his  way  of  facing  life.  He  is  the  son,  too,  of 
a  great  man,  and  this  is  what  he  tells  me  was  an  experience  of  his 
in  relation  to  that  father.  He  said  the  greatest  crisis  of  his  life, 
the  most  overwhelming  sorrow  he  ever  passed  through,  was  when 
God  called  that  father  home.  "  But,"  he  said,  "  I  made  him  my 
model  and  my  inspiration — not  that  I  have  ever  reached  to  the 
height  to  which  he  towered.  In  one  of  my  darkest  hours,  when 
trouble  had  made  me  ill,  and  I  lay,  as  it  seemed,  between  life  and 
death,  I  dreamed  that  I  was  a  child  again,  and  when  I  woke  and 
opened  my  eyes  for  the  moment  it  seemed  as  if  it  could  not  be  a 
dream.  1  remember  turning  to  look  up  in  my  father's  face,  and 
I  felt  round  me  my  father's  arms.  Is  it  too  much  to  suppose  that 
I  dreamed  what  was  true  ? "  I  do  not  answer  his  question  here, 
save  to  give  it  a  larger  meaning.  He  dreamed  what  was  true ;  he 
lost  his  father,  as  it  seemed  to  his  earthly  consciousness,  for  the 
time  being ;  but  he  lived  in  his  memory,  in  his  atmosphere,  and 
then  there  came  the  one  moment  of  insight  when  he  felt  as  if  the 
father  was  not  gone,  but  the  loving  arms  were  around  him  still. 
If  it  was  true  of  the  earthly  father,  a  thousandfold  more  is  it 
true  of  the  Heavenly  Father.1 


V. 

Jesus  is  now  a  man  thirty  years  old.  The  report  arrives  of 
John's  preaching  down  by  the  Jordan.  Hastening  down  at  once  to 
hear  him,  and  approaching  to  be  baptized,  He  is  saluted  by  him 
strangely,  on  sight,  in  the  crowd — "  Behold,  the  Lamb  of  God, 
which  taketh  away  the  sin  of  the  world  ! "  The  consecrating  Dove 
descends  upon  Him,  and  He  is  Healed  for  His  call  by  a  word  of 
sanction  from  above — "  This  is  my  beloved  Son,  in  whom  I  am 
well  pleased."  He  is  verily  come  now  into  His  Father's  business. 
Yes,  He  is  to  be  Messiah  !  and  the  discovery  breaks  upon  His  mind 
like  a  storm  upon  the  sea.  By  this  Spirit-storm  He  is  hurried 
off  into  the  wilderness,  to  consider  and  to  get  His  bosom  throes 
quieted  and  His  thoughts  in  train  for  the  great  strange  future 

1  li.  J.  Campbell,  The  Song  of  Ages,  233. 


12  MARY  THE  VIRGIN 

before  Him.  And  when  this  is  ended,  when  His  mind  has  become 
composed  and  adjusted,  He  goes  back  to  Nazareth.  He  finds 
Mary  not  at  home,  but  away  at  the  little  village  of  Cana,  back 
among  the  hills,  where  she  is  gone  to  attend  the  festivities  of 
a  wedding,  at  the  house  of  a  relative.  Receiving  an  invitation 
that  was  left  for  Him,  He  goes  up  to  the  wedding  Himself. 
And  there  we  are  let  into  a  new  chapter,  at  the  very  hinge  of 
His  public  life,  and  the  new  relation  He  is  to  have  to  His  mother. 
The  general  impression  is  that  He  breaks  off  from  her  in  a  sense, 
at  this  earliest  moment,  reprimanding  her,  with  a  good  deal  of 
severity,  for  what  He  considers  to  be  her  forwardness  and  officious 
meddling. 

The  wine  of  the  feast  gave  out,  as  it  would  seem ;  whereupon 
the  mother  tells  Him,  "  they  have  no  wine,"  as  if  expecting  of 
Him  just  the  miracle  He  is  going  to  perform.  Whereupon  Jesus 
turns  upon  her  sharply,  saying,  "  Woman,  what  have  I  to  do  with 
thee  ?  my  hour  is  not  yet  come."  She  pays,  we  notice,  no  atten 
tion  to  His  rebuke,  as  she  certainly  would  if  she  had  felt  the 
severity  we  do  in  it,  but  goes  aside  to  the  servants,  telling  them 
to  wait  His  orders  and  do  whatever  He  bids  them.  She  has  no 
idea  what  that  will  be ;  but  she  evidently  hopes  that  He  will 
somehow  make  up  the  deficiency  and  permit  them  to  go  on  with 
the  distribution. 

"His  mother  saith  unto  the  servants,  Whatsoever  he  saith 
unto  you,  do  it."  These  are  the  last  recorded  words  of  the  Virgin 
Mother.  We  hear  of  her  on  one  or  two  subsequent  occasions  in 
the  gospel  history,  and  with  regard  to  one  of  these  we  are  told 
something  as  to  her  wishes ;  but  this  is  the  last  occasion  on  which 
the  words  which  she  uttered  have  been  preserved  for  us.  It  is 
worth  while  remarking  that  most  of  what  we  know  respecting  her 
words  and  acts  is  told  us  of  the  time  before,  or  just  after,  her 
Divine  Son  was  born.  The  sum-total  of  what  is  told  us  in  Scrip 
ture  respecting  her  does  not  amount  to  very  much,  but  by  far  the 
larger  portion  of  what  is  recorded  refers  to  the  time  before,  or 
immediately  after,  the  birth  at  Bethlehem. 

^1  Life  breaks  down  first  of  all  on  the  side  of  its  exhilarations. 
"  They  have  no  wine ! "  said  Mary  at  the  feast  in  Cana  of  Galilee. 
And  she  might  say  it  still.  It  is  life's  first  point  of  collapse. 
Health  holds  out.  Money  increases.  Friends  multiply.  We 


THE  EVENTS    IN  MARY'S  LIFE          13 

have  abundance  to  cat,  plenty  to  drink,  and  warm  beds  to  sleep 
in.  But  the  wine  fails.  Life  somehow  loses  its  sparkle  and  its 
sprightliness.  The  gaiety  and  the  elasticity  depart.  An  eminent 
art  critic  stood  before  a  picture.  "  Yes,"  he  said,  "  it  is  very  good  ; 
but  it  lacks  that  " — expressively  snapping  his  fingers.  Every  man 
discovers  sooner  or  later  that  he  lacks  "  that."  l 

^|  We  have  our  troubles  and  perplexities,  and  there  are  times 
when  they  seem  to  be  overwhelming.  But  in  all  such  seasons  of 
trial  there  are  some  commands  of  Christ  about  which  there  can 
be  no  doubt,  some  duties  which  beyond  all  question  we  ought  to 
do.  Ix^t  us  pay  more  than  ordinary  attention  to  them,  and  do 
what  we  are  quite  sure  about  with  increased  care.  Trouble  too 
often  makes  us  slack  about  plain  duties.  But  the  loyal  discharge 
of  plain  duties  is  often  a  refuge  from  trouble  and  sometimes  a 
remedy  for  it.  But,  whether  we  are  in  trouble  or  in  prosperity, 
we  can  have  no  better  guide  for  our  daily  life  than  the  last  recorded 
utterance  of  the  Mother  of  the  Lord,  "Whatsoever  he  saith  unto 
you,  do  it." 

And  let  us  also  take  to  ourselves  the  command  which  He  gave 
to  those  servants :  "  Fill  the  water-pots  with  water."  All  round 
us  the  empty  water-pots  are  standing.  Like  those  at  Cana,  they 
say  nothing;  but  their  very  emptiness  is  mutely  eloquent,  and  the 
Lord  speaks  for  them.  There  are  dreary  homes,  empty  of  Christ 
ian  peace  and  Christian  affection  :  ignorant  minds,  empty  of  every 
thing  that  can  instruct,  and  enlighten,  and  ennoble;  desolate, 
withered  hearts,  empty  of  all  that  can  brighten,  and  quicken, 
and  console.  Our  great  cities,  hardly  less  than  the  distant  regions 
of  our  great  Kmpire,  swarm  with  heathen,  whose  condition  is  one 
loiiir  spiritual  thirst,  ever  recalling  the  charge,  "  Fill  the  water-pots 
with  water."2 

VI. 

Lot  us  look  for  a  moment  now  at  the  connexion  between 
Mary  and  Jesus  in  the  prosecution  of  His  early  ministry. 
She  has,  besides  Him,  four  sons,  and  probably  three  daughters. 
It  has  lung  bt-en  debated  whether  these  are  Mary's 
own  children  or  only  cousins  taken  by  adoption,  or  possibly 
children  of  Joseph  by  a  former  marriage.  We  need  not  under 
take  the  question.  "These  children,"  says  Bushnell,  "ought  to 
ue  Mary's,  to  complete  the  Incarnation  itself.  For  if  she  must 

1  F.  W.  Burehain,  Mountains  in  t/m  .1/tri,  87. 
*  A.  Pluuimer,  The  Humanity  of  Christ,  142, 


i4  MARY  THE  VIRGIN 

needs  live  and  die  in  churchly  virginity,  lest  she  bring  a  taint  on 
her  Divine  motherhood  by  maternity  in  wedlock  afterward,  her 
incarnation  office  even  puts  dishonour  on  both  wedlock  and 
maternity  together.  Or  if  she  must  save  her  Son  from  being  own 
brother  to  anybody  by  His  Incarnation,  what  genuine  signifi 
cance  is  there  in  the  fact  ? " 

Soon  so  great  is  the  strain  on  Him — pressed  on  all  sides  by  an 
eager,  selfish  crowd,  the  sick  continually  appealing  to  Him  for  the 
help  of  His  healing,  His  disciples  needing  careful  training,  the 
multitude  hanging  on  His  utterances  in  great  assemblies  gathered 
by  the  seashore,  the  scribes  and  Pharisees  ever  on  the  watch  to 
catch  Him  in  His  words — He  has  no  leisure  for  retirement,  no 
time  for  rest,  not  even  an  opportunity  for  taking  food  during  the 
long,  busy  day.  We  can  well  imagine  how  an  anxious  mother 
must  have  regarded  such  a  mode  of  life.  It  was  cruel.  The 
strongest  could  not  stand  it.  Something  must  be  done  to  save 
Him  from  the  people,  to  save  Him  too  from  Himself.  He  is  at 
the  call  of  all  who  need  Him.  He  has  no  thought  of  Himself. 
Then  His  friends  must  interfere. 

They  send  in  word,  accordingly,  that  His  mother  and  family 
are  without,  desiring  to  speak  with  Him.  Perceiving  at  once  the 
over-tender  concern  that  has  brought  them  hither,  instead  of 
going  instantly  forth  at  their  call  He  finds  opportunity  in  it  to 
say  to  the  multitude  about  Him  that  He  is  here  among  men,  as  in 
a  large  and  most  dear  family.  And  who  is  My  mother,  and  who 
are  My  brethren,  but  you  all  here  present,  who  can  do  the  will  of 
God  ?  "  For  whosoever  shall  do  the  will  of  God,  the  same  is  my 
brother,  and  sister,  and  mother  " — such  and  so  great  is  the  dear 
blood  affinity  with  mankind  into  which  He  is  born.  The  whole 
significance  and  beauty  of  the  appeal  is  from  family  affection  to 
the  broader  affection  of  God's  universal  family. 

U  The  effect  of  Jesus'  exclamation,  "  Behold  my  mother  and 
my  brethren  !  For  whosoever  shall  do  the  will  of  my  Father  which 
is  in  heaven,  the  same  is  my  brother,  and  sister,  and  mother,"  may 
have  been  modified  by  its  being  pronounced  with  a  smile ;  and  it 
shows  how  close  and  tender  He  felt  the  natural  relation  to  be 
that  He  compared  the  new  spiritual  one  to  it;  yet  this  was  a 
distinct  preference  of  the  relationship  formed  by  discipleship  to 
that  due  to  nature.1 

1  J.  Stalker,  The  Ethic  of  Jesu*,  345. 


THE   EVENTS  IN   MARY'S  LIFE  15 

"  My  mother — brothers — who  are  they  ? " 

Hearest  thou,  Mary  mild  ? 
This  is  a  sword  that  well  may  slay — 

Disowned  by  thy  child  ! 

Ah,  no !     My  brothers,  sisters,  hear — 

They  are  our  humble  lord's  ! 
0  mother,  did  they  wound  thy  ear? — 

We  thank  him  for  the  words. 

*'  Who  are  my  friends  ? "     Oh,  hear  him  ^iy. 

Stretching  his  hand  abroad, 
"  My  mother,  sisters,  brothers,  are  they 

That  do  the  will  of  God ! " 

My  brother!     Lord  of  life  and  me, 

If  life  might  grow  to  this  ! — 
Would  it  not,  brother,  sister,  be 

Enough  for  all  amiss  ? 

Yea,  mother,  hear  him  and  rejoice: 

Thou  art  his  mother  still, 
But  may'st  be  more — of  thy  own  choice 

Doing  his  Father's  will. 

Ambition  for  thy  son  restrain, 

Thy  will  to  God's  will  bow: 
Thy  son  he  shall  be  yet  again, 

And  twice  his  mother  thou. 

O  humble  man,  0  faithful  son! 

That  woman  most  forlorn 
Who  yet  thy  father's  will  hath  done, 

Thee,  son  of  man,  hath  born  ! 1 


VII. 

Mary's  presence  at  the  cross  fitly  ends  her  story. 

The  narrative  of  St.  Luke  tells  us  that  during  a  considerable 
portion  of  the  Saviour's  Passion  "  all  his  acquaintance,  and  the 
women  that  followed  him  from  Galilee,  stood  afar  off,  beholding 
these  things."  Now,  after  nearly  three  hours  of  awful  endurance 

1  Utorg*-  MacDonald,  I'urtical  H'urk*,  i.  225. 


16  MARY  THE  VIRGIN 

there  was  a  lull  in  the  strong  excitement  of  those  who  hated 
Him.  It  was  felt  by  some  of  those  who  were  dearest  to  Him  that 
a  possibility  of  approach  was  afforded.  John  and  a  little  group  of 
believing  women — Mary  the  mother  of  Jesus,  and  two  other 
Marys,  the  wife  of  Cleophas  and  Mary  of  Magdala — then  for  a 
while  stood  beside  the  cross  of  Jesus. 

It  is  not  every  woman  who  would  have  found  it  possible  to 
be  there.  The  story  of  the  cross  has  been  handled  so  much  as  a 
topic  of  cold  abstract  theology,  and  any  real  experience  of  what  it 
means  is  so  very  remote  from  the  world  in  which  we  live,  that 
the  actual  horror  of  it  does  not  affect  us  in  any  degree  propor 
tionate  to  the  facts  of  what  must  have  taken  place.  A  man 
nailed  to  the  beams,  hung  up  in  the  blazing  sun,  dragged,  strained, 
longing  to  shift  his  posture  in  an  agony  of  cramp,  yet  unable  to  do 
so,  and  his  slightest  movement  sending  a  fresh  thrill  of  torture 
through  his  body ;  then  a  burning  thirst,  a  throbbing  head,  the 
weight  of  whicii  on  the  weary  neck  grows  intolerable;  and  all 
this  to  continue— since  no  vital  organ  has  been  touched — till  the 
relief  of  death  supervenes  only  from  sheer  exhaustion,  when  long- 
enduring  nature  can  hold  out  no  longer.  We  shrink  with  horror 
from  the  contemplation  of  the  ghastly  spectacle. 

Now,  this  was  witnessed  by  Mary,  if  not  to  the  very  end,  still 
in  the  agony  of  its  tortures.  And  the  Sufferer  was  her  Son. 
Could  any  sword  pierce  the  soul  as  hers  was  pierced  now  ? 

And  then  came  the  crowning  deed  of  love.  Jesus  is  taking 
His  farewell  of  the  world — His  last  legacies  have  been  given — • 
only  His  mother  is  left.  He  will  not  leave  her  an  orphan  and 
unprovided  for.  Joseph  is  dead,  and  there  is  none  to  look  after 
her.  Bravely  she  bore  in  secret  shame  and  misunderstanding  on 
His  account  in  the  early  days  at  Nazareth  and  Bethlehem,  now 
she  shall  have  an  open  and  public  honour.  His  best  loved  disciple 
is  at  the  foot  of  the  cross — so  good  a  son  is  worthy  of  such  a 
mother,  and  to  him  Jesus  offers  her.  "  Woman,  behold  thy  son  ! 
Then  saith  he  to  the  disciple,  Behold  thy  mother !  And  from 
that  hour  that  disciple  took  her  unto  his  own  home." 

H  That  Jesus  enjoins  on  John  to  care  for  Mary,  although  the 
latter  had  several  sons  of  her  own,  is  not  sufficiently  explained  by 
the  unbelief  of  the  brothers  (John  vii.  5),  for  His  speedy  triumph 
over  this  (Acts  i.  14)  could  not  be  hidden  from  Him  (Johq 


THE  EVENTS  IN   MARY'S  LIFE          17 

ii.  24,  25);  but  it  presupposes  the  certainty  in  His  mind  that 
generally  to  no  other's  hand  could  this  dear  legacy  be  so  well 
entrusted.  Ewald  well  remarks  on  such  traits  of  individual 
significance  in  the  Gospel  of  John  as  "  from  that  hour  the  disciple 
took  her  unto  his  own  home":  "  It  was  for  John  at  a  late  period 
of  life  a  sweet  reward  to  call  up  reminiscences  of  all  that  was 
most  vivid,  but  for  the  readers  it  is  also,  without  his  will,  a  token 
that  only  he  could  have  written  all  this."  l 

She  sees  her  son,  her  God, 

Bow  with  a  load 

Of  borrow'd  sins ;  and  swim 

In  woes  that  were  not  made  for  Him. 

Ah,  hard  command 
Of  love !     Here  must  she  stand 
Charg'd  to  look  on,  and  with  a  steadfast  eye 

See  her  life  die : 

Leaving  her  only  so  much  Breath 
As  serves  to  keep  alive  her  death.1 

VIII. 

There  is  but  one  more  scene.  The  place  is  an  upper  room  in 
Jerusalem,  and  the  time,  the  interval  between  the  Ascension  and 
Pentecost.  About  a  hundred  and  twenty  persons  are  gathered 
together  for  prayer,  and  among  these  we  note  "  Mary,  the  mother 
of  Jesus  "  (Acts  i.  14).  And  this  is  where  the  Bible  takes  leave 
of  her. 

From  this  moment  the  Virgin  Mary,  though  her  name  is  just 
mentioned  among  those  who  formed  the  assemblies  of  the  early 
believers,  practically  disappears  from  Christian  history.  Even 
apocryphal  tradition  scarcely  so  much  as  mentions  her.  It  is  not 
known  how  long  she  lived.  It  is  not  certain  whether  she  died  at 
Jerusalem  or  at  Ephesus.  She  is  not  referred  to  as  a  source  of 
information,  still  less  as  a  fount  of  authority,  though  she  could 
have  told  more  than  any  living  being  about  the  birth  of  the 
Saviour,  and  the  thirty  long  years  of  His  humble  obscurity.  She 
"  kept  all  these  sayings,  pondering  them  in  her  heart"  But 
though  she  must  ever  be  cherished  in  Christian  reverence  as  the 
chosen  handmaid  of  the  Lord,  and  "  blessed  among  women,"  it  is 
impossible  not  to  see  in  these  indisputable  facts  the  strongest 

1  H.  A.  W.  Meyer,  The  Ootptl  of  John,  ii.  351.  '  Eichard  Craahaw. 

MARY-SIMON 3 


i8  MARY  THE  VIRGIN 

possible  condemnation  of  that  utterly  unauthorized  worship  of  the 
Virgin  which,  centuries  afterwards,  began  to  pollute  the  swelling 
stream  of  Christianity.  As  though  by  a  Divine  prevision  of  the 
dangerous  aberrations  which  were  to  come,  in  which  Christians  by 
millions  were  taught  to  adore  the  creature  even  more  than  the 
Creator  who  is  blessed  for  evermore,  the  name  of  Mary  is  scarcely 
noticed  in  the  whole  New  Testament  after  the  beginning  of 
Christ's  ministry,  and  indeed  after  the  one  incident  of  His  boy 
hood.  In  three  of  the  instances  in  which  it  is  introduced,  our 
Lord  says,  "  Woman,  what  have  I  to  do  with  thee  ? " ;  "  Whosoever 
shall  do  the  will  of  my  Father  which  is  in  heaven,  the  same  is  my 
brother,  and  sister,  and  mother " ;  and,  "  Yea  rather,  blessed  are 
they  that  hear  the  word  of  God,  and  keep  it."  It  might,  there 
fore,  seem  as  if  special  care  had  been  taken  to  discourage  and 
obviate  the  corrupted  forms  of  Christianity  which  have  thrust  the 
Virgin  Mary  into  the  place  of  her  Eternal  Son,  and  made  her 
more  an  object  of  rapturous  worship  than  God,  to  whom  alone  all 
worship  is  due. 

^f  In  a  letter  dealing  with  women's  work  among  the  poor,  he 
remarks,  "  I  sometimes  think  '  the  woman '  is  the  representative 
in  the  family  of  the  third  person  in  the  Holy  Trinity,  the 
Comforter,  the  Holy  Ghost,  who  is  the  fountain  of  all  the 
beautiful,  the  tender,  the  motherly,  the  womanly — the  human 
family  being  considered  the  reflex  of  the  Divine,  who  said,  '  Let 
us  make  man  in  our  image  after  our  likeness,'  and  then  we  read, 
'male  and  female  created  He  them.'  Nothing  will  destroy  the 
worship  of  the  Virgin  Mother  in  the  Romish  Church,  where  in 
their  pictures  she  is  blasphemously  placed  upon  the  same  throne 
with  the  Father  and  the  Son,  the  Holy  Spirit,  whom  she  has 
replaced,  only  hovering  as  a  dove  over  her  head — nothing,  I 
believe,  will  dethrone  her  and  destroy  her  worship  but  a  scriptural 
understanding  of  the  doctrine  of  the  Holy  Spirit  as  the  tender, 
the  motherly,  the  womanly.  It  was  after  the  Athanasian  Creed 
was  made  (and  you  cannot  put  love  and  tenderness  into  a  hard, 
dogmatic  creed)  that  the  personal  love  and  most  melting  tender 
ness  of  the  Holy  Spirit  was  lost  sight  of,  and  His  throne  and 
worship  profanely  given  to  Mary.  But  any  holy  woman  is  such 
as  she,  a  representative  on  earth  of  Him."  1 

K  Far  in  the  apse  [of  the  Church  of  SS.  Mary  and  Donate]  is 
seen  the  sad  Madonna  standing  in  her  folded  robe,  lifting  her 

1  Life  of  William  B.  Robertson,  D.D.,  Irvine  (by  J,  Brown),  425. 


THE  EVENTS  IN  MARY'S  LIFE  19 

hands  in  vanity  of  blessing.  There  is  little  else  to  draw  away  our 
thoughts  from  the  solitary  image.  .  .  .  The  figure  wears  a  robe  of 
blue,  deeply  fringed  with  gold,  which  seems  to  be  gathered  on  the 
head  and  thrown  back  on  the  shoulders,  crossing  the  breast,  and 
falling  in  many  folds  to  the  ground.  The  under  robe,  shown 
beneath  it  where  it  opens  at  the  breast,  is  of  the  same  colour  ; 
the  whole,  except  the  deep  gold  fringe,  being  simply  the  dress  of 
the  women  of  the  time.  Round  the  dome  there  is  a  coloured 
mosaic  border ;  and  on  the  edge  of  its  arch,  legible  by  the  whole 
congregation,  this  inscription : 

Quos  Eva  Contrivit,  Pia  Virgo  Maria  Redemit ; 
Hanc  Cuncti  Laudent,  Qui  Cristi  Munere  Gaudent. 

The  whole  edifice  is,  therefore,  simply  a  temple  to  the  Virgin :  to 
her  is  ascribed  the  fact  of  Redemption,  and  to  her  its  praise.  .  .  . 

Mariolatry  is  no  special  characteristic  of  the  twelfth  century ; 
on  the  outside  of  that  very  tribune  of  San  Donate,  in  its  central 
recess,  is  an  image  of  the  Virgin  which  receives  the  reverence 
once  paid  to  the  blue  vision  upon  the  inner  dome.  With  rouged 
cheeks  and  painted  brows,  the  frightful  doll  stands  in  wretched 
ness  of  rags,  blackened  with  the  smoke  of  the  votive  lamps  at  its 
feet ;  and  if  we  would  know  what  has  been  lost  or  gained  by  Italy 
in  the  six  hundred  years  that  have  worn  the  marbles  of  Murauo, 
let  us  consider  how  far  the  priests  who  set  up  this  to  worship,  the 
populace  who  have  this  to  adore,  may  be  nobler  than  the  men 
who  conceived  that  lonely  figure  standing  on  the  golden  field,  or 
than  those  to  whom  it  seemed  to  receive  their  prayer  at  evening, 
far  away,  where  they  only  saw  the  blue  clouds  rising  out  of  the 
burning  sea.1 

1  Buskin,  Stones  of  Venice,  vol.  ii.  chap.  iii.  §§  39,  40. 


MARY   THE   VIRGIN. 

II. 

THE  ELEMENTS  OF  MARY'S  CHARACTER. 


LITERATURE. 

Adeney,  W.  F.,  Women  of  the  New  Testament  (1899),  29,  43. 

Alexander,  W.,  Verbum  Crucis  (1893),  53. 

Brierley,  H.  E.,  The  Pierced  Heart. 

Buslmell,  H.,  Sermons  on  Living  Subjects  (1872),  9. 

Gibbon,  J,  M.,  The  Veil  and  the  Vision  (1914),  46. 

Johnson,  G.  B.,  The  Beautiful  Life  of  Christ,  145. 

Mackay,  W.  M.,  Bible  Types  of  Modern  Women  (1912),  315. 

Newman,  J.  H.,  Sermon  Notes  (1913),  21,  73,  90,  137. 

Orchard,  W.  E.,  Advent  Sermons  (1914),  53. 

Plummer,  A.,  The  Humanity  of  Christ,  132. 

Robertson,  F.  W.,  Sermons,  ii.  (1875)  220. 

Sanday,  W.,  in  Critical  Questions  (1903),  123. 

Simpson,  P.  C.,  in  Women  of  the  Bible  :  Rebekah  to  Priscilla  (1904),  139. 

Spun,  F.  C.,  The  Holy  Family,  13. 

Vaughan,  C.  J.,  Lancaster  Sermons  (1891),  364. 

Watson,  J.,  The  Life  of  the  Master  (1902),  53. 

Whyte,  A.,  Bible  Characters  :  Joseph  and  Mary  to  James  (1900),  1. 

Williams,  J.  H.,  The  Mother  of  Jesus  (1906). 

Churchman's  Pulpit :  Circumcision  of  Christ,  iii.  103  (W.  Bright). 

Commonwealth,  xviii.  (1913)  326  (A.  Gilchrist). 

Dictionary  of  the  Bible  (Single- volume,  1909),  589  (C.  T.  P.  Grierson). 

Dictionary  of  Christ  and  the  Gospels,  ii.  (1908)  140  (J.  M.  Harden). 

Encyclopaedia  of  Religion  and  Ethics,  viii.  (1915)  (J.  Cooper). 


THE  ELEMENTS  OF  MARY'S  CHARACTER. 

Mary  kept  all  these  sayings,  pondering  them  in  her  heart.— Luke  ii.  19. 

THAT  the  Virgin  Mary  was  a  woman  without  character,  feeble  and 
featureless,  one  of  those  limp  beings  who  come  to  be  reckoned  as 
cyphers  in  the  world,  is  not  for  a  moment  to  be  supposed.  On 
the  rare  occasions  when  the  curtain  is  lifted  we  catch  glimpses  of 
a  character  not  wanting  in  energy  and  power  of  initiation.  Have 
we  not  all  met  with  people  who  make  their  individuality  felt 
within  a  very  limited  circle,  while  beyond  that  even  their 
existence  is  scarcely  noticed  ? 

In  the  First  Kpistle  to  the  Corinthians,  St.  Paul  speaks  of  the 
glory  of  the  woman  as  of  a  thing  distinct  from  the  glory  of  the 
man.  They  are  the  two  opposite  poles  of  the  sphere  of  humanity. 
Their  provinces  are  not  the  same,  but  different.  The  qualities 
which  are  beautiful  as  predominant  in  one  are  not  beautiful  when 
predominant  in  the  other.  That  which  is  the  glory  of  the  one  is 
not  the  glory  of  the  other.  The  glory  of  her  who  was  highly 
favoured  among  women,  and  whom  all  Christendom  has  agreed  in 
contemplating  as  the  type  and  ideal  of  her  sex,  was  glory  in  a 
different  order  from  that  in  which  her  Son  exhibited  the  glory  of 
a  perfect  manhood.  A  glory  different  in  degree,  of  course :  the 
one  was  only  human,  the  other  more  than  human,  the  Word  made 
flesh;  but  different  in  order  too:  the  one  manifesting  forth  her 
glory — the  grace  of  womanhood ;  the  other  manifesting  forth  His 
glory — the  wisdom  and  the  majesty  of  manhood,  in  which  God 
dwelt. 

^|  For  my  own  part,  I  do  not  know  the  gift  or  the  grace  or 
the  virtue  any  woman  ever  had  that  I  could  safely  deny  to  Mary. 
The  Divine  congiuity  compels  me  to  believe  that  all  that  could  be 
received  or  attained  or  exercised  by  any  woman  would  be  granted 
beforehand,  and  all  but  without  measure,  to  her  who  was  so 


24  MARY  THE  VIRGIN 

miraculously  to  bear,  and  so  intimately  and  influentially  to 
nurture  and  instruct,  the  Holy  Child.  We  must  give  Mary  her 
promised  due.  We  must  not  allow  ourselves  to  entertain  a 
grudge  against  the  mother  of  our  Lord  because  some  enthusiasts 
for  her  have  given  her  more  than  her  due.  There  is  no  fear  of 
our  thinking  too  much  either  of  Mary's  maidenly  virtues,  or  of 
her  motherly  duties  and  experiences.  The  Holy  Ghost  in  guiding 
the  researches  of  Luke,  and  in  superintending  the  composition  of 
the  Third  Gospel,  especially  signalizes  the  depth  and  the  piety 
und  the  peace  of  Mary's  mind.  At  the  angel's  salutation  she  did 
not  swoon  nor  cry  out.  She  did  not  rush  either  into  terror  on 
the  one  hand  or  into  transport  on  the  other.  But,  like  the 
heavenly-minded  maiden  she  was,  she  cast  in  her  mind  what 
manner  of  salutation  this  should  be.  And  later  on,  when  all  who 
heard  it  were  wondering  at  the  testimony  of  the  shepherds,  it  is 
instructively  added  that  Mary  kept  all  these  things  and  pondered 
them  in  her  heart.  And  yet  again,  when  another  twelve  years 
have  passed  by,  we  find  the  same  Evangelist  still  pointing  out  the 
same  distinguishing  feature  of  Mary's  saintly  character,  "They 
understood  not  the  saying  which  he  spake  unto  them :  .  .  .  but 
his  mother  kept  all  these  sayings  in  her  heart." l 

Blest  in  thy  lowly  heart  to  store 

The  homage  paid  at  Bethlehem ; 
But  far  more  blessed  evermore 

Thus  to  have  shared  the  taunts  and  shame — 

Thus  with  thy  pierc'd  heart  to  have  stood 
'Mid  mocking  crowds,  and  owned  Him  thine, 

True  through  a  world's  ingratitude, 
And  owned  in  death  by  lips  Divine.2 


I. 

HER  FAITH. 

What,  then,  is  the  great  note  of  Mary's  character  ?  It  is  faith, 
manifesting  itself  in  meekness,  obedience,  and  love.  If  the 
Incarnation  is  difficult  for  us  to  believe,  it  was  a  thousandfold 
more  difficult  for  Mary ;  yet  she  believed  it  with  all  the  energy 
of  a  pious  and  a  simple  heart.  Faith  is  the  ground  of  all  great- 
1  A.  Whytc.  *  Elizabeth  Runclle  Charles. 


ELEMENTS  OF  MARY'S  CHARACTER     25 

ness  in  human  character,  bub  never  was  there  faith  so  pure,  so 
firm,  or  so  hardly  tried  as  hers. 

If  we  are  to  apply  this  sure  principle  to  Mary's  case,  "ac 
cording  to  your  faith  be  it  unto  you,"  then  Mary  must  surely 
wear  the  crown  as  the  mother  of  all  who  believe  on  her  Son. 
If  Abraham's  faith  has  made  him  the  father  of  all  who  be 
lieve,  surely  Mary's  faith  entitles  her  to  be  called  their  mother. 
If  the  converse  of  our  Lord's  words  holds  true,  that  no  mighty 
work  is  done  where  there  is  unbelief ;  if  we  may  safely  reason 
that  where  there  has  been  a  mighty  work  done  there  must  have 
been  a  corresponding  and  a  co-operating  faith ;  then  I  do  not 
think  we  can  easily  overestimate  the  measure  of  Mary's  faith. 
If  this  was  the  greatest  work  ever  wrought  by  the  power  and  the 
grace  of  Almighty  God  among  the  children  of  men,  and  if  Mary's 
faith  entered  into  it  at  all,  then  how  great  her  faith  must  have 
been  !  Elisabeth  saw  with  wonder  and  with  worship  how  great 
it  was.  She  saw  the  unparalleled  grace  that  had  come  to  Mary, 
and  she  had  humility  and  magnanimity  enough  to  acknowledge 
it.  "  Blessed  art  thou  among  women :  Blessed  is  she  that 
believed :  for  there  shall  be  a  performance  of  those  things  which 
were  told  her  from  the  Lord."  "  Blessed  is  she  that  believed," 
said  Elisabeth,  no  doubt  with  some  sad  thoughts  about  herself 
and  about  her  dumb  husband  sitting  beside  her.  "  Blessed  is  the 
womb  that  bare  thee,"  cried  on  another  occasion  a  nameless  but 
a  true  woman,  as  her  speech  bewrayeth  her,  "  and  the  paps  which 
thou  hast  sucked."  But  our  Lord  answered  her,  and  said,  "  Yea 
rather,  blessed  are  they  that  hear  the  word  of  God,  and  keep  it." 
And  again,  "  Whosoever  shall  do  the  will  of  my  Father  which  is 
in  heaven,  the  same  is  my  brother,  and  sister,  and  mother." 

H  I  remember  well  one  conversation  that  Dr.  Martineau  and 
I  had  concerning  the  nature  of  religious  faith.  I  told  my  friend 
the  old  story  of  the  schoolboy  or  schoolgirl  who  defined  faith  as 
"  the  power  we  have  of  still  believing  what  we  know  to  be  untrue." 
He  laughed  very  heartily  at  this  unintentionally  sarcastic  defini 
tion ;  and  he  declared  that  the  state  of  mind  implied  by  it  is  a 
wholly  impossible  one.  In  this  opinion  he  was  in  full  agreement 
with  the  view  of  his  old  acquaintance,  Dr.  Tlihlwall,  Bishop  of 
St  David's,  who  considered  that  belief,  as  regards  abstract  or 
purely  speculative  matters,  is  entirely  involuntary,  and  therefore 
looked  on  the  "impious  threats" — as  he  called  them — of  the 


26  MARY  THE  VIRGIN 

Athanasian  Creed  as  quite  meaningless.  I  think,  however,  that 
many  people  really  have  a  power  of  believing  in  some  degree  what 
they  suspect  to  be  untrue.  Some  men  deliberately  suppress  their 
doubts,  and  turn  their  thoughts  exclusively  to  such  considerations 
as  favour  their  cherished  convictions.  Professor  Huxley  seems 
habitually  to  have  looked  on  religious  faith  as  a  more  or  less 
discreditable  state  of  mind,  as  a  kind  of  unwarranted  prejudice,  as 
an  effect  of  intellectual  indolence.  He  regarded  doubt  as  a  kind 
of  beneficent  demon  sent  to  trouble  the  stagnant  waters  of  stupid 
conventionalism.  Some  doubt  unquestionably  is  of  this  sort.  St. 
Augustine  thought  that  none  really  believe  deeply  save  those  who 
have  first  doubted  profoundly.  Yet  there  is  also  much  truth  in 
the  teaching  of  Coleridge,  who  declared  that  there  never  was  a 
real  faith  in  Christ  which  did  not  in  some  measure  expand  the 
intellect,  whilst  simplifying  the  desires.  In  moral  and  spiritual 
matters  Martineau  certainly  thought  that  a  man's  character 
largely  determines  his  belief,  that  we  must  be  pure  in  heart  if  we 
would  in  any  degree  know  God.  On  this  subject  he  agreed  with 
Pascal  that  divine  truths  must  to  some  extent  pass  through  our 
hearts  on  their  way  into  our  intellects.1 


IL 

HER  OBEDIENCE. 

It  has  often  been  observed  that  a  woman's  faith  is  more  simple 
and  intense  than  a  man's.  Women  seldom  know  the  agony  of 
mental  doubt.  Scepticism  is  foreign  to  their  nature.  And  the 
reason  is  that  woman  is  more  accustomed  to  submission  than  man. 
The  habit  of  obedience  is  more  easily  formed,  and  obedience  is  the 
vital  fruit  of  faith.  And  it  is  upon  such  faith  as  this  that  the 
Kingdom  of  God  is  built.  To  accept  the  voice  of  God  as  real,  as 
Mary  did,  to  obey  meekly  the  Divine  will,  to  be  faithful  to  ideal 
hopes,  to  believe  and  love  in  spite  of  all  the  contradictions  of  fact 
and  circumstance — this  is  the  kind  of  faith  that  is  most  noble 
in  human  creatures,  and  it  is  the  very  faith  which  Christ  Himself 
praises  when  He  says  to  Thomas,  "  Blessed  are  they  that  have  not 
seen,  and  yet  have  believed." 

Obedience  is  one  of  the  distinctive  glories  of  womanhood.     In 

1  A.  H.  Craufurd,  Recollections  of  James  Ufartineau,  37. 


ELEMENTS  OF  MARY'S  CHARACTER     27 

the  very  outset  of  the  Bible,  submission  is  revealed  as  her  peculiar 
lot  and  destiny.  If  you  were  merely  to  look  at  the  words  as  they 
stand,  declaring  the  results  of  the  Fall,  you  would  be  inclined  to 
call  that  vocation  of  obedience  a  curse  ;  but  in  the  spirit  of  Christ 
it  is  transformed,  like  labour,  into  a  blessing.  There  is  a  way  of 
saying,  like  the  Moslem,  "  Thy  will  be  done  "  which  hardens  the 
heart :  to  say  it  as  Mary  said  it  is  to  find  oneself  suddenly 
gifted  with  wings.  But  no  heart  can  truly  say  it  in  Mary's  tone, 
unless  it  has  first  learned  her  secret  and  given  itself  entirely  to 
the  Divine  guidance  and  the  Divine  indwelling.  People  do  not 
give  a  carte  blanche  to  strangers,  but  only  to  those  whom  they 
intensely  love  and  implicitly  trust.  Is  there  any  repose  of 
mind  equal  to  that  which  comes  through  perfect  love  ?  And  is 
not  our  want  of  repose  due  chietly  to  this,  that  we  do  not  heartily 
say  to  God,  "  Be  it  unto  me  according  to  thy  word  "  ?  0  that  we 
might  hand  life  over  to  the  kind  management  of  our  Father,  for 
only  then  shall  we  be  perfectly  free ! 

U  Mary's  vocation  as  the  Christ-bearer  ordains  motherhood, 
whether  actual  or  spiritual,  to  be  the  true  calling  of  woman,  and 
shows  its  great  and  sacred  nature.  In  her  entire  acceptance  of 
the  work  demanded  she  manifested  the  initial  strength  of  her 
character.  She  beheld  from  the  beginning  the  greatness  of  a 
Divine  Purpose  being  fulfilled,  and  remained  faithful  in  response 
as  it  was  gradually  developed  before  her.  .  .  .  Again,  in  social 
life,  Mary  took  the  part  of  service,  by  active  kindness,  and  by 
bringing  others  into  obedience  to  Christ.  Thus,  strong  and  brave 
under  the  inspiration  of  love,  she  followed  to  the  foot  of  the  Cross, 
there  by  suffering  to  learn  something  of  the  mystery  of  the 
Sacrifice  which  was  being  offered  by  her  Son,  and  to  offer  also 
her  best.  There  she  receives  the  Divine  commission,  "  Woman, 
behold  thy  Son."  All  false  independence  disappears  here,  and 
life  is  ordained  to  be  one  of  mutual  service.  ...  At  the  Cross 
Mary's  beautiful  human  love  had  to  receive  its  final  touch  of 
ideality,  its  transformation  by  a  higher  sacrificial  Love,  Divine, 
universal,  as  she  realized  more  and  more  that  He  was  truly  the 
Son  of  God  and  the  Saviour,  with  His  Redemptive  work  to  do, 
not  only  for  her,  but  for  all  mankind.  And  so  all  special  in 
dividual  love  is  the  training  and  starting-point  for  the  true  self- 
sacrificing  love  of  service  for  all  men.1 

1  R.  M.  Willa,  /'erMtalily  and  ll'vmanliood,  131. 


28  MARY  THE  VIRGIN 

III. 
HER  HUMILITY. 

Another  feature  of  Mary's  character,  closely  associated  with 
her  submissiveness,  is  her  humility.  It  comes  out  very  strikingly 
in  the  Magnificat.  The  terms  in  which  she  speaks  of  herself  are 
notable — "  handmaiden  "  (a  slave),  "  low  estate,"  "  low  degree," 
"hungry."  These  words  differ  as  the  east  from  the  west  from 
the  terms  of  glorification  which  her  idolaters  have  applied  to 
her.  These  four  words  can  be  summed  up  in  the  one  word— 
"  humility."  There  is  nothing  in  herself  of  which  she  will  or  can 
boast ;  she  applies  to  herself  the  lowliest  possible  term,  "  hand 
maiden."  The  English  form  of  this  word  is  altogether  too 
respectable  to  convey  Mary's  meaning ;  the  word  she  used  is  the 
feminine  form  of  that  expression  which  in  its  masculine  form  is 
rendered  "  bond-servant."  She  is  His  slave,  bound  to  Him  for  ever. 

Her  humility,  however,  expresses  itself  not  so  much  by  a  self- 
depreciation  as  by  an  utter  forgetfulness  of  self.  In  this  humble 
woman  an  incomparably  great  thing  was  come,  but  she  never 
thought  of  herself  in  connexion  with  it  for  a  moment — of  herself 
as  either  worthy  or  even  unworthy.  Her  soul  was  lifted  quite 
away  from  herself,  and  was  full  of  the  thought  of  God  only. 
Instead  of  deprecating,  however  sincerely,  that  so  great  an  honour 
should  come  to  her,  she  simply  praised  the  Lord.  "  My  soul  doth 
magnify  the  Lord."  This  is  the  very  perfect  flower  of  humility. 
There  is  often  a  self-depreciation  which  is  just  conceit  in  disguise  ; 
and  even  where  this  is  not  so,  still  self-depreciation  is,  and  must 
be,  always  a  thought,  even  if  a  lowly  thought,  of  self.  Perfect 
humility  does  not  think  about  self  at  all.  It  simply  accepts  from 
God,  and  looks  up  to  God,  and  is  full  of  God,  and  praises  God. 
This  was  Mary's  humility.  There  are  paintings  of  the  Annuncia 
tion  which  represent  Mary  as  utterly  overpowered  by  holy  fear 
at  the  great  call,  and  as  shrinking  from  it  with  abasement.  These 
feelings  must  have  been  in  her  mind,  but  they  were  swallowed  up 
in  the  thought  of  God  ;  and  Mary,  who  was  troubled  and  fearful 
and  struck  with  shame  as  she  had  thought  of  herself,  forgot 
herself  and  thought  only  of  God,  and  then  sang  with  an 
untroubled  joy. 


ELEMENTS  OF  MARY'S  CHARACTER     29 

H  It  is  as  difficult  to  be  humble  as  it  is  easy  to  despair. 
Despair's  a  very  conceited  thing,  but  I  might  as  well  hope  to 
be  Michael  Angelo  as  to  be  humble.  The  grace  of  the  lowliest 
is  only  given  to  the  highest.1 

TI  What  is  the  meaning  of  this  quality  of  meekness  or  humility  ? 
Surely  the  ground  of  it  is  a  recognition  of  the  greatness  and 
majestv  of  God.  Men  who  have  seen  life  under  the  white  light 
of  eternity  will  never  deport  themselves  with  the  pride  that  marks 
the  man  to  whom  the  world  is  only  a  mirror  of  his  own  majestic 
dignity.  We  all  need  to  know  the  art  of  self-measurement,  but 
that  is  beyond  us  unless  we  allow  some  place  in  the  universe 
for  Him  who  dominates  great  and  small  alike ;  for  only  His 
entrance  into  our  life  enables  us  to  compute  our  worth  by 
standards  universally  applicable.* 

Yes,  and  to  her,  the  beautiful  and  lowly, 

Mary  a  maiden,  separate  from  men, 
Camest  thou  nigh  and  didst  possess  her  wholly, 

Close  to  thy  saints,  but  thou  wast  closer  then. 

Once  and  for  ever  didst  thou  show  thy  chosen, 
Once  and  for  ever  magnify  thy  choice ; — 

Scorched  in  love's  fire  or  with  his  freezing  frozen, 
Lift  up  your  hearts,  ye  humble,  and  rejoice ! 

Not  to  the  rich  He  came  or  to  the  ruling, 
(Men  full  of  meat,  whom  wholly  He  abhors,) 

Not  to  the  fools  grown  insolent  in  fooling 
Most,  when  the  lost  are  dying  at  the  doors; 

Nay  but  to  her  who  with  a  sweet  thanksgiving 
Took  in  tranquillity  what  God  might  bring, 

Blessed  Him  and  waited,  and  within  her  living 
Felt  the  arousal  of  a  Holy  Thing. 

Ay  for  her  infinite  and  endless  honour 
Found  the  Almighty  in  this  ilesh  a  tomb, 

1'ourii.g  with  power  the  Holy  Ghost  upon  her, 
Nothing  disdainful  of  the  Virgin's  womb.3 

1  Oallurrd  Lf  arts  from  the  Prose  of  Mary  E.  Colerulye,  274. 
•  A.  C.  Hill,  The  Sword  of  the  Lord,  168. 
1  K.  W.  II.  Myers.  Saint  Paul. 


30  MARY  THE  VIRGIN 

IV. 
HER  PURITY. 

Observe  again  how  delicately  and  yet  distinctly  her  purity  of 
soul  reveals  itself  in  the  Magnificat.  It  does  not  express  itself 
in  any  words  about  either  sin  or  holiness.  There  is  no  confession 
in  Mary's  song,  and  no  consecration.  How,  then,  does  it  exhibit 
the  purity  of  her  heart  ?  Just  because  it  is  a  song.  By  this  quite 
unconscious  revelation  that  God's  coming  thus  so  wonderfully  and 
even  overpoweringly  near  was  to  her  a  joy.  Only  a  pure  heart 
rejoices  when  God  is  very  near.  His  nearness  fills  the  bad  with 
fear  and  even  the  good  with  awe.  Mary  felt  the  awe,  but  the 
joy  was  even  greater — the  joy  of  God  near.  Only  a  very  pure 
soul  could  have  felt  that  joy.  It  is  this  holy  gladness  because 
God  was  come  very  near  that  Fra  Angelico  and  other  great 
painters  have  sought  to  depict  in  the  faces  of  their  Madonnas. 

TJ  In  all  Christian  ages  the  especial  glory  ascribed  to  the 
Virgin  Mother  is  purity  of  heart  and  life,  implied  in  the  term 
"  Virgin."  Gradually  in  the  history  of  the  Christian  church  the 
recognition  of  this  became  idolatry.  The  works  of  early  Christian 
art  curiously  exhibit  the  progress  of  this  perversion.  They  show 
how  Mariolatry  grew  up.  The  first  pictures  of  the  early  Christian 
ages  simply  represent  the  Woman.  By  and  by,  we  find  outlines 
of  the  Mother  and  the  Child.  In  an  after-age,  the  Son  is  seen 
sitting  on  a  throne,  with  the  Mother  crowned,  but  sitting  as  yet 
below  Him.  In  an  age  still  later,  the  crowned  Mother  on  a  level 
with  the  Son.  Later  still,  the  Mother  on  a  throne  above  the  Son. 
And  lastly,  a  Komish  picture  represents  the  Eternal  Son  in  wrath, 
about  to  destroy  the  Earth,  and  the  Virgin  Intercessor  inter 
posing,  pleading  by  significant  attitude  her  maternal  rights,  and 
redeeming  the  world  from  His  vengeance.  Such  was,  in  fact,  the 
progress  of  Virgin-worship.  First  the  woman  reverenced  for  the 
Son's  sake  ;  then  the  woman  reverenced  above  the  Son,  and  adored.1 

TI  Mrs.  Jameson  showed  me  some  exquisite  forms  of  the  Virgin 
by  the  elder  painters,  when  feeling  was  religious — Perugino, 
Fra  Angelico,  Raphael.  Afterwards  the  form  became  coarse,  as 
the  religious  feeling  died  off  from  art.  I  asked  her  how  it 
is  that  the  Romish  feeling  now  is  developing  itself  so  much 
in  the  direction  of  Mariolatry ;  and  she  said  that  the  purer  and 
1  F.  W.  Robertson. 


ELEMENTS  OF  MARY'S  CHARACTER     31 

severer  conceptions  of  the  Virgin  are  coining  back  again,  and 
visibly  marking  Romish  art.  Briefly,  I  will  tell  you  what  I  said 
in  answer  to  her  inquiries.  I  think  Mariolatry  was  inevitable. 
The  idea  most  strongly  seized  in  Christianity  of  the  sanctifi cation 
of  humanity  attached  itself  to  Christ  as  the  man ;  but  the  idea 
naturally  developed  contained  something  more — the  sanctification 
of  womanhood.  Until,  therefore,  the  great  truth  that  in  Christ 
is  neither  male  nor  female — that  His  was  the  double  nature,  all 
that  was  most  manly  and  all  that  was  most  womanly — could  take 
hold  of  men,  it  was  inevitable  that  Christianity  should  seem 
imperfect  without  an  immaculate  woman.1 

But  thou  no  longer  art  to-day 

The  sweet  maid-mother,  fair  and  pure ; 

Vast  time-worn  reverend  temples  gray, 
Throne  thee  in  majesty  obscure; 

And  long  aisles  stretch  in  minsters  high, 

'Twixt  thee,  fair  peasant,  and  the  sky. 

They  seek  to  honour  thee,  who  art 

Beyond  all  else  a  mother  indeed ; 
With  hateful  vows  that  blight  the  heart, 

With  childless  lives,  and  souls  that  bleed : 
As  if  their  dull  hymns'  barren  strain 
Could  fill  a  mother  with  aught  but  pain!8 


V. 

HER  THOUGHTFULNESS. 

Of  all  the  wonderful  deeds  and  wonderful  words  not  one 
escaped  Mary's  eye  or  failed  to  stir  her  thought  and  hope.  In 
the  first  of  these  exercises  she  stands  in  contrast  with  others. 
Mary  heard  the  report  of  the  shepherds  about  the  vision  of  "  the 
angel  of  the  Lord,"  and  the  song  of  the  attendant  host  announcing 
the  Lord  Christ  the  Saviour.  Mary  witnessed  their  wonder. 
But  she  did  far  more :  she  stored  away  in  her  heart  all  the 
incidents  and  sayings  for  future  frequent  and  abiding  considera 
tion.  She  revolved  them  again  and  again ;  placed  them  in  array, 
side  by  side,  together ;  so  "  casting  them  about "  to  ascertain  and 

1  Lift  and  T^tUrt  of  the  lifv.  F.  W.  Robertson,  304. 
•  Sir  Lewia  Morris,  Sony*  of  Two  Wortdt. 


32  MARY  THE  VIRGIN 

appreciate  all  their  force  and  worth.  To  her  spirit  the  birth 
scenes  and  ceremonies,  the  prophecies  and  testimonies  of  Simeon 
and  Anna,  supplied  richest  material  for  reflection  while  the  Babe 
was  growing  to  the  Boy  of  twelve ;  while  that  Boy  was  passing  on 
"  in  wisdom  and  in  stature,"  "  in  favour  with  God  and  man,"  up 
to  manhood ;  aye,  and  while  that  "  man  Christ  Jesus "  was  so 
marvellously  fulfilling  His  sublime  service  and  suffering  as  the 
world's  Redeemer. 

The  life  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  is  so  full  and  deep,  its  rela 
tions  are  so  varied  and  vital  that  it  takes  much  "  pondering  "  to 
comprehend  it.  Mary  did  not  grudge  that  care.  Mysterious  as 
were  many  of  its  scenes,  and  many  of  His  words  and  acts ; 
unutterably  distressing  as  was  its  soul-piercing  close,  she  never 
ceased  to  follow  and  wait.  She  shared  the  first  revelations  of 
the  resurrection  morn ;  she  waited  with  the  holy  company  in  the 
Upper  Room  ;  she  received  of  the  first  gifts  of  the  Holy  Spirit 
at  Pentecost,  and  then  was  able  to  piece  together  in  sweetest 
harmony  and  completeness  the  sayings  and  doings  she  had  stored 
from  the  first.  Mystery  vanished  in  light,  and  the  light  was 
ineffable  glory.  Bethlehem,  Jerusalem,  Nazareth,  Egypt ;  the 
manger,  the  ministry,  the  cross,  the  sepulchre ;  angels  and  men- 
all  became  clear,  radiant.  There  was  never  a  thought  in  that 
mother's  mind,  never  an  affection  in  her  heart,  that  failed  of 
blessed  satisfaction. 

But  Mary's  thoughtfulness  is  seen  more  clearly  in  the  long 
years  of  waiting.  Think  of  what  it  means  that  all  at  once  the 
wonderful  and  abnormal  is  exchanged  for  the  purely  commonplace 
and  normal.  We  hear  no  more  of  angel  choirs,  of  strange  stars 
that  kindle  hope  and  expectation,  of  hostile  governors,  and 
miraculous  escapes.  No  one  appears  to  have  sought  out  the  Child 
whose  birth  had  evoked  such  tumult  and  such  marvels.  No 
pilgrim  comes  to  Nazareth  inquiring  for  Him  to  whom  kings  had 
paid  obeisance.  All  these  happenings,  on  whose  significance  faith 
and  hope  could  feed,  fade  into  a  myth,  a  legend,  which  the  world 
forgets.  Silence  falls  upon  the  scene,  impenetrable  silence.  The 
Child  grows  as  other  children  grow,  learns  His  Shema,  or  His 
Hebrew  catechism,  at  His  mother's  knee;  plays  with  other 
children,  unrecognized  as  the  Christ ;  grows  up  to  take  a  part  in 
Joseph's  trade ;  lives  a  simple  life,  varied  only  by  visits  to  Hie 


ELEMENTS  OF  MARY'S  CHARACTER     33 

kinsfolk  or  to  Jerusalem  ;  and  shows  no  sign  of  His  Messiahship. 
Can  we  comprehend  what  Mary  thought  in  those  days  ?  Can  we 
imagine  with  what  weariness  of  heart  she  watched  the  years  pass, 
the  uneventful  years,  and  knew  her  own  life  passing  with  them  ? 
Was  not  hers  the  hope  deferred  that  makes  the  heart  sick  ?  At 
times  no  douht  it  was ;  she  would  not  have  been  human  if  it  were 
not.  Thirty  years — it  is  a  lifetime,  and  oh  to  think, 

So  many  worlds,  so  much  to  do, 
So  little  done,  such  things  to  be. 

Thirty  years,  during  which  the  world  seems  settling  into  deeper 
sleep,  and  the  times  pass  without  a  sign !  But  through  all  those 
years  Mary  pondered  in  her  heart  the  things  the  angel  had  spoken, 
and  her  life  was  nourished  at  the  springs  of  faith.  Perhaps  at 
times  from  that  sweet  childhood,  from  that  full  and  gracious  man 
hood,  there  flashed  a  light  that  comforted  and  startled  her.  We 
know  it  was  so  concerning  that  journey  to  Jerusalem,  when  she 
found  the  Boy  of  twelve  disputing  with  the  doctors  in  the  Temple, 
for  we  are  told  that  "his  mother  kept  all  these  sayings  in  her 
heart."  How  full  of  homely  truth  that  touch.  What  mother 
does  not  cherish  in  her  heart  the  sayings  of  her  child,  which  to  her, 
and  perhaps  to  her  alone,  seem  full  of  wisdom  and  significance  ? 
And  we  know  by  another  sign  also  that  her  faith  had  not  failed. 
When  the  marriage  feast  was  held  in  Cana  of  Galilee,  it  was  Mary 
who  said  to  the  wondering  servants,  "  Whatsoever  he  saith  unto 
you,  do  it."  She  had  subjugated  herself  already  to  her  Son,  as 
only  mothers  can  ;  she  had  a  kind  of  faith  in  Him  possible  only 
to  mothers.  But  how  hard  the  test !  How  easy  to  have  thought 
herself  deceived,  to  have  relapsed  into  quiet  sad  negation  of  all 
that  had  once  seemed  so  miraculous,  lo  have  become  immersed  in 
ordinary  household  cares  and  duties,  to  have  let  the  light  lighted 
in  that  secret  shrine  go  out  for  want  of  vigilance  1  The  young 
Christ  passed  in  and  out  of  that  simple  house  ;  silent,  apparently 
content,  seeking  no  publicity,  giving  no  sign  that  He  was  aware  of 
His  own  great  destiny,  and  yet  of  Him  the  angel  said,  "He  shall 
be  great,  and  shall  be  culled  the  Son  of  the  Highest:  and  the  Lord 
God  shall  give  unto  him  the  throne  of  his  father  David:  and  he 
shall  reign  over  the  house  of  Jacob  for  ever;  and  of  his  kingdom 
there  shall  be  no  end."  What  but  faith  could  hold  that 

MARY-SIMON — 3 


34  MARY  THE  VIRGIN 

true,  and  ponder  it  in  the  heart,  and  still  believe  amid  a  life  so 
barren  of  event,  amid  the  passing  of  the  years  that  gave  no 
credibility  to  her  dream,  amid  the  silence  of  God  Himself,  who 
seemed  to  have  forgotten  His  beloved  Son  ? 

Ah !  knew'st  thou  of  the  end,  when  first 
That  Babe  was  on  thy  bosom  nurs'd  ? — 
Or  when  He  tottered  round  thy  knee 
Did  thy  great  sorrow  dawn  on  thee  ? — 
And  through  His  boyhood,  year  by  year 
Eating  with  Him  the  Passover, 
Didst  thou  discern  confusedly 
That  holier  sacrament,  when  He, 
The  bitter  cup  about  to  quaff, 
Should  break  the  bread  and  eat  thereof? — 
Or  came  not  yet  the  knowledge,  even 
Till  on  some  day  forecast  in  Heaven 
His  feet  passed  through  thy  door  to  press 
Upon  His  Father's  business  ? — 
Or  still  was  God's  high  secret  kept  ? 

Nay,  but  I  think  the  whisper  crept 
Like  growth  through  childhood.     Work  and  play, 
Things  common  to  the  course  of  day, 
Awed  thee  with  meanings  unfulfill'd ; 
And  all  through  girlhood,  something  still'd 
Thy  senses  like  the  birth  of  light, 
When  thou  hast  trimmed  thy  lamp  at  night 
Or  washed  thy  garments  in  the  stream ; 
To  whose  white  bed  had  come  the  dream 
That  He  was  thine  and  thou  wast  His 
Who  feeds  among  the  field-lilies. 
0  solemn  shadow  of  the  end 
In  that  wise  spirit  long  contain'd ! 
0  awful  end !  and  those  unsaid 
Long  years  when  It  was  Finished ! l 

1  D.  G.  Rossetti,  Poetical  Works,  245. 


HEROD  THE  GREAT. 


LITERATURE. 

Bacon,  L.  W.,  The  Simplicity  that  in  in  Christ  (1892),  288. 

Baldwin,  G.  C.,  Representative  Men  of  the  New  Testament  (1859),  41. 

Burn,  A.  E.,  The  Crown  of  Thorns  (1911),  36. 

Buss,  S.,  Roman  Law  and  History  in  the  New  Testament  (1901),  I. 

Caldecott,  W.  S.,  Herod's  Temple  (1913),  1. 

Cameron,  A.  B.,  From  the  Garden  to  the  Cross  (1896),  157. 

Candlisli,  R.  S.,  Scripture  Characters  (1872),  123. 

Ewald,  H.,  The  History  of  Israel,  v.  (1880)  406. 

Farrar,  F.  W.,  The  Herods  (1898),  62. 

Hausrath,  A.,  The  Time  of  Jesus,  i.  (1878)  207  ;  ii.  (1880)  3. 

Little,  W.  J.  K.,  Sunlight  and  Shadow  (1892),  256. 

Mathews,  S.,  The  History  of  New  Testament  Times  in  Palestine  (1899\  108. 

Schiirer,  E.,  The  Jeioish  People  in  tlie  Time  of  Jesus  Christ,  I.  i.  (1890)  400. 

Selvvyn,  E.  C.,  The  Oracles  in  the  New  Testament  (191 2),  30. 

Stanley,  A.  P.,  Lectures  on  the  Hilary  of  the  Jewish  Church,  iii.  (1889)  362 

Stevenson,  J.  G.,  The  Judges  of  Jesus  (1909),  107. 

Williams,  T.  R.,  in  Men  of  the  New  Testament  :   Matthew  to  Timothy 

(1905),  57. 

Catholic  Encyclopaedia,  vii.  (1910)  289  (J.  J.  Tierney). 
Dictionary  of  Christ  and  the  Gospels,  i.  (1906)  717  (W.  P.  Armstrong). 
Encyclopedia  Biblica,  ii.  (1901),  col.  2025  (W.  J.  Woodhouse). 
Jewish  Encyclopedia,  vi.  (1904)  356  (I.  Broyde). 


HEROD  THE  GREAT. 

Jesus  was  born  in  Bethlehem  of  Judaea  in  the  days  of  Herod  the  king. 
--Matt.  ii.  i. 

IN  the  year  109  B.C.,  John  Hyrcanus,  son  of  Simon  Maccabeus, 
subdued  the  Edomites  (Idumaeans)  and  compelled  them  to  adopt 
Judaism.  This  achievement  looked  like  the  final  victory  of  Jacob 
over  Esau.  It  was  the  fulfilment  of  the  ancient  prophecy,  "  And 
the  one  people  shall  be  stronger  than  the  other  people ;  and  the 
elder  shall  serve  the  younger."  But  forcible  conversions  have 
never  yielded  satisfactory  results.  The  admission  of  the  Edomites, 
still  unchanged  in  heart,  into  the  house  of  Israel  was  fraught  with 
consequences  which  no  human  eye  could  have  foreseen.  A  little 
leaven  leavens  the  whole  lump.  From  the  very  first  there  was 
good  reason  for  every  Jewish  patriot  to  say,  "  Beware  of  the  leaven 
of  Edoin,"  just  as  Jesus  at  a  later  time  said,  "  Beware  of  the  leaven 
of  Herod  "  (Mark  viii.  1 5).  For  the  Idumrcans  brought  a  new  spirit 
into  the  commonwealth  of  Israel,  and  it  was  not  long  before  the 
conquered  gave  laws  to  their  conquerors.  Only  two  generations 
had  passed  when  the  Iduimean  An ti pater  was  appointed  by  Julius 
Ciusar  Procurator  of  Judira,  Samaria,  and  Galilee,  on  account  of 
services  rendered  in  the  dictator's  struggle  with  Pompey.  And 
the  son  of  Antipater  was  Herod  the  Great,  king  of  the  Jews. 

I. 

His  GKKATNKSS. 

1.  Does  Herod  deserve  to  be  called  "the  Great"?  In 
comparison  with  his  feebler  descendants — the  kings  and  princes  of 
the  hou.se  which  he  founded — he  may  fairly  be  so  designated, 
although  there  is  only  one  passage  in  the  works  of  Josephus 
(Antiq.  xvin.  v.  5)  where  he  receives  that  proud  title.  Ho  cannot 


38  HEROD  THE  GREAT 

with  any  propriety  be  .admitted  into  the  company  of  those  kings 
and  conquerors  whom  historians  agree  to  call  "  great "  in  the 
absolute  sense.  But  this  much  may  be  said  with  truth,  that  if 
he  was  only  relatively  great,  he  was  endowed  by  nature  with  all 
the  gifts  which,  had  he  used  them  wisely,  might  have  made  him 
great  in  the  higher  sense.  As  it  is,  his  astonishing  success  is  a 
fact  beyond  dispute.  While  some  men  are  born  to  greatness,  and 
some  have  greatness  thrust  upon  them,  the  first  Herod  achieved 
all  the  greatness  with  which  he  is  credited.  By  his  own  efforts 
he  attained  the  position  of  power  and  glory  to  which  his  restless 
ambition  aspired.  His  energy,  his  daring,  his  political  ability,  his 
personal  beauty  and  power  of  fascination  won  in  succession  the 
greatest  of  the  Romans  to  support  his  cause.  And  receiving  a 
kingly  crown,  founding  a  royal  house,  and  amassing  fabulous 
wealth,  he  rivalled  Solomon  in  the  extent  of  his  dominions,  the 
splendour  of  his  court,  the  grandeur  of  his  palaces  and  temples. 

U  Herod  was  born  to  be  a  ruler.  Blessed  by  nature  with  a 
powerful  body  capable  of  enduring  fatigue,  he  early  inured  him 
self  to  all  manner  of  hardships.  He  was  a  skilful  rider,  and  a 
bold,  daring  huntsman.  He  was  feared  in  pugilistic  encounters. 
His  lance  was  unerring,  and  his  arrow  seldom  missed  its  mark. 
He  was  practised  in  the  art  of  war  from  his  youth.  Even  in  hie 
twenty-fifth  year  he  had  won  renown  by  his  expedition  against 
the  robbers  of  Galilee.  And  then  again,  in  the  later  period  of  his 
life,  when  over  sixty  years  of  age,  he  led  in  person  the  campaign 
against  the  Arabians.  Rarely  did  success  forsake  him  where  he 
himself  conducted  any  warlike  undertaking.1 

^f  Even  if  we  contemplate  the  personality  of  Herod  apart  from 
his  friends  and  flatterers,  we  cannot  deny  that  there  have  rarely 
been  united  in  any  ruler  so  much  tenacious  strength  of  mind,  so 
much  almost  inexhaustible  address  and  sagacity,  and  so  much 
inflexible  activity,  as  were  combined  in  him :  even  the  surname  of 
the  Great,  though  only  applied  to  him  subsequently  by  a  mis 
understanding  of  a  Greek  expression,  he  at  any  rate  merits  within 
the  series  of  his  own  family  and  in  the  circuit  of  the  sovereigns  of 
the  century.  Loving  power  and  command  above  everything,  he 
was  yet  not  insensible  to  the  blessings  of  honourable  tranquillity 
and  the  arts  of  peace.  After  such  tedious  and  desolating  struggles, 
the  whole  country  longed  for  rest,  and  accordingly  the  labours  of 
Herod  for  the  external  prosperity  and  honour  of  his  house  and  his 

1  E.  Sehurer,  The  Jewish  People  in  the  Time  of  Jesus  Chritt,  I.  i.  417. 


HEROD  THE  GREAT  39 

people  found  a  most  happy  response  in  the  similar  need  of  repose 
which  was  then  so  forcibly  experienced  throughout  the  whole 
Roman  empire.  And  yet  the  end  of  his  reign  was  destined  to  be 
practically  the  end  of  the  new  dynasty  established  by  him  with 
such  prodigious  effort ;  and  what  was  much  worse,  his  memory  was 
to  be  justly  cursed  by  his  contemporaries  and  by  posterity,  and 
his  whole  career  upon  the  throne,  with  all  its  outward  success 
and  splendour,  was  to  be  irremediably  disastrous  and  full  of 
ailliction ;  so  that  there  has  scarcely  ever  been  a  sovereign  whose 
life,  passed  in  the  enjoyment  of  all  possible  power  and  glory, 
terminated  more  painfully  in  itself  or  more  mischievously  for  the 
kingdom  at  large.1 

2.  It  was  in  the  year  40  B.C.  that  Herod,  walking  between 
Antony  and  Octavian  (afterwards  Augustus),  was  conducted  from 
the  Roman  Senate  to  the  Capitol,  where,  with  solemn  services  to 
Jupiter  Capitolinus,  his  reign  was  inaugurated.  On  the  same  day 
he  was  feted  by  Antony.  "  Thus,"  says  Josephus,  "  did  this  man 
come  into  his  kingdom."  He  was  then  in  his  thirty-seventh  year, 
and  for  the  next  thirty-four  years  he  shaped  the  destinies  of  the 
Jewish  nation,  while  he  was  one  of  the  most  brilliant  figures  of 
the  Augustan  age. 

TI  During  the  prosperous  period  of  Herod's  reign  splendid 
public  works  were  commenced  and  new  cities  were  built.  He 
rebuilt  the  city  of  Samaria,  to  which  he  gave  the  name  of 
"  Sebaste,"  in  honour  of  the  Roman  emperor.  The  small  town  on 
the  seacoast  called  the  Tower  of  Strato  was  transformed  into  a 
magnificent  city  with  an  artificial  harbour,  on  a  scale  of  the 
utmost  grandeur,  and  named  "  Cuesarea."  Temples  in  honour  of 
Augustus  were  multiplied  in  all  directions.  To  celebrate  the 
quinquennial  games  which  had  been  instituted  in  almost  all  of 
the  Roman  provinces,  likewise  in  honour  of  Augustus,  Herod 
erected  in  Jerusalem  a  theatre,  an  amphitheatre,  and  a  hippo 
drome.  Citadels  and  cities  rose  in  honour  of  the  different 
members  of  Herod's  family:  Antipatris,  in  honour  of  his  father: 
Cypros,  commemorating  his  mother;  Phasaelis,  as  a  memorial  to 
his  brother;  and  the  two  strongholds  named  Herodium  in  honour 
of  himself.  Military  colonies  were  planted  at  Gaba  in  Galilee, 
and  at  Heshbon  ;  and  the  fortresses  Alexandrium,  Hyrcania, 
Machserus,  and  Masada  were  rendered  impregnable. 

Of  all  Herod's  building  operations,  however,  the  most  magni 
ficent  was  the  restoration  of  the  Temple  at  Jerusalem.  This  work, 
1  II.  Ewuld,  The  Uistory  of  Israel,  v.  418. 


40  HEROD  THE  GREAT 

begun  in  the  eighteenth  year  of  his  reign,  was  completed  in  its 
essential  parts  in  eight  years.  Its  beauty  was  proverbial.  "  He 
who  has  not  seen  Herod's  building  has  never  seen  anything 
beautiful,"  was  a  common  proverb  of  the  day.  Moreover,  Herod 
did  not  content  himself  with  erecting  architectural  monuments  in 
his  own  country  only;  Ashkelon,  Acre,  Tyre,  Sidon,  Byblus, 
Berytus,  Tripoli,  Damascus,  Antioch,  Khodes,  Chios,  Nicopolis, 
Athens,  and  Sparta  also  received  proofs  of  his  generosity  in  many 
a  monumental  structure.  He  defrayed,  too,  the  cost  of  the  erec 
tion  at  Rhodes  of  a  temple  devoted  to  the  Pythian  Apollo,  and 
gave  a  fund  for  prizes  and  sacrifices  at  the  Olympian  games. 

All  the  worldly  pomp  and  splendour  which  made  Herod 
popular  among  the  pagans,  however,  rendered  him  abhorrent  to 
the  Jews,  who  could  not  forgive  him  for  insulting  their  religious 
feelings  by  forcing  upon  them  heathen  games  and  combats  with 
wild  animals.  The  annexation  to  Judaea  of  the  districts  of 
Trachonitis,  Batanea,  Auranitis,  Zenodorus,  Ulatha,  and  Panias, 
which  Herod  through  his  adulations  had  obtained  from  Augustus, 
could  not  atone  for  his  crimes.1 


II. 

His  TYRANNY. 

1.  Such  a  conqueror  and  such  a  ruler  ought  to  have  been  one 
of  the  happiest  of  men.  But  the  suspicious,  crafty,  ruthless 
tyrant  who  rises  before  our  imagination  as  we  read  the  opening  of 
the  First  Gospel  was  manifestly  a  stranger  to  happiness.  And 
when  we  turn  to  the  vivid  pages  of  Josephus  and  Tacitus,  it  is 
the  same  unhappy  face  that  meets  us,  the  same  gloomy  character 
that  we  find  portrayed.  Herod  began  his  reign  in  the  usual 
Oriental  fashion,  by  putting  to  death  all  his  former  opponents  and 
all  his  possible  rivals.  He  gave  orders  that  forty-five  of  the  most 
wealthy  and  prominent  Asmonaeans — i.e.,  of  the  Maccabean  family 
which  the  Romans  had  deprived  of  the  kingship — should  be 
executed,  and  their  estates  confiscated  to  fill  his  empty  treasury. 
His  agents  showed  themselves  so  greedy  as  to  shake  the  dead 
bodies  in  order  that  any  gold  hidden  in  their  shrouds  might  be 
disclosed.  His  next  step  was  to  slay  the  whole  Sanhedrin  with 
the  exception  of  Pollio  and  Sameas,  who  had  rendered  him  some 

1  I.  Bioyde,  in  the  Jeivish  Encyclopedia,  vi.  358. 


HEROD  THE  GREAT  41 

service.  And  these  acts  of  vengeance  and  cruelty  were  but  the 
first  of  the  many  dark  crimes  which  stain  for  ever  the  records  of 
his  reign. 

It  seemed  to  be  his  firm  determination  that  no  man  should  be 
great  and  no  man  honoured  in  his  kingdom  except  himself.  Any 
popularity  but  his  own  was  in  his  eyes  a  crime.  In  order  to 
strengthen  his  position,  he  married  the  beautiful  Asmona?an 
princess  Mariamne,  whom  he  loved  with  all  the  ardour  of  his 
passionate  nature.  He  was  persuaded  by  her  to  set  aside  the 
high  priest  Ananel,  and  to  appoint  her  brother  Aristobulus,  a  lad 
in  his  seventeenth  year,  to  the  sacred  office.  As  a  scion  of  the 
heroic  Maccabean  family,  Aristobulus  was  received  by  the  Jews 
with  demonstrations  of  joy.  And  when  he  had  to  perform  the 
religious  ceremonies  at  the  Feast  of  Tabernacles,  he  did  so 
with  perfect  grace  and  decorum,  standing  before  the  people  in  the 
blue  and  white  and  gold-embroidered  robes  of  his  office,  with  the 
golden  plate  gleaming  on  his  forehead  over  his  dark  and  flowing 
locks,  and  the  jewelled  Urim  upon  his  breast.  But  the  acclama 
tions  of  the  assembled  multitude  were  the  poor  boy's  death-doom. 

The  youthful  high  priest  was  invited  to  his  mother's  palace 
among  the  groves  of  Jericho — the  fashionable  watering-place,  as 
it  had  become,  of  Palestine.  Herod  received  the  boy  with  his 
usual  sportivcness  and  gaiety.  It  was  one  of  the  warm  autumnal 
days  of  Syria,  and  the  heat  was  yet  more  overpowering  in  that 
tropical  valley.  In  the  sultry  noon  the  high  priest  and  his 
young  companions  stood  cooling  themselves  beside  the  large  tanks 
which  surrounded  the  open  court  of  the  palace,  and  watching  the 
gambols  and  exercises  of  the  guests  or  slaves,  as,  one  after  another, 
they  plunged  into  these  crystal  swimming-baths.  Among  these 
was  the  band  of  Gaulish  guards,  whom  Augustus  had  transferred 
from  Cleopatra  to  Herod,  and  whom  Herod  employed  as  his  most 
unscrupulous  instruments.  Lured  on  by  these  perfidious  play 
mates,  the  princely  boy  joined  in  the  sport,  and  then,  as  at  sunset 
the  sudden  darkness  fell  over  the  gay  scene,  the  wild  band  dipped 
and  dived  with  him  under  the  deep  water ;  and  in  that  fatal 
"baptism  "  life  was  extinguished.  When  the  body  was  laid  out 
in  the  palace  the  passionate  lamentations  of  the  princesses  knew 
no  bounds.  The  news  Hew  through  the  town,  and  every  house 
felt  as  if  it  had  lost  a  child.  The  mother  suspected,  but  dared  not 


42  HEROD  THE  GREAT 

reveal  her  suspicions,  and  in  the  agony  of  self-imposed  restraint, 
and  in  the  compression  of  her  determined  will,  trembled  on  the 
brink  of  self-destruction.  Even  Herod,  when  he  looked  at  the 
dead  face  and  form,  retaining  all  the  bloom  of  youthful  beauty, 
was  moved  to  tears — so  genuine,  that  they  almost  served  as  a  veil 
for  his  complicity  in  the  murder.  And  it  was  not  more  than  was 
expected  from  the  effusion  of  his  natural  grief  that  the  funeral 
was  ordered  on  so  costly  and  splendid  a  scale  as  to  give  consola 
tion  even  to  the  bereaved  mother  and  sister. 

2.  Great  without  being  good,  Herod  was  little  to  be  envied. 
There  is  no  happiness  without  love,  and,  alike  as  a  king,  as  a 
husband,  and  as  a  father,  he  alienated  all  those  whose  affection  he 
ought  to  have  won.  Under  his  government  Judaea  became  the 
greatest  of  all  the  Eastern  kingdoms  allied  with  Rome,  but  he 
made  no  secret  of  the  fact  that  he  did  not  love,  and  never  could 
love,  the  Jews.  He  openly  announced  that  he  cared  less  for  them 
than  for  his  heathen  subjects.  We  cannot  wonder,  therefore,  that 
all  the  material  benefits  which  he  conferred  upon  them  were 
received  with  cold  admiration  and  little  gratitude.  He  appeared 
to  think  that  so  long  as  his  loyalty  to  Rome — a  loyalty  dictated 
by  nothing  higher  than  selfish  prudence — secured  for  him  the 
patronage  of  the  great  ones  of  the  earth,  he  could  dispense  with 
the  affection  of  the  people  whom  he  governed.  "  Let  them  hate 
so  long  as  they  fear  "  has  been  the  scornful  dictum  of  tyrants  in 
all  ages.  But  happiness  has  never  been  purchased  on  these  terms. 
Herod's  case  was  not  unlike  that  of  the  Emperor  Tiberius,  who,  in 
the  midst  of  all  his  power  and  glory,  confessed  to  the  Roman 
Senate  his  utter  misery.  "  Nor  was  it  unadvisedly,"  comments 
the  historian  Tacitus,  "that  the  wisest  of  all  men  (Plato)  was 
wont  to  affirm  that,  if  the  hearts  of  tyrants  were  bared  to  view, 
wounds  and  lacerations  would  be  seen  in  them ;  for  as  the  body 
is  torn  by  stripes,  so  is  the  heart  by  cruelty,  lusts,  and  evil 
purposes." 

U  Herod  had  up  to  this  time  moulded  circumstances  to  his 
will  with  an  almost  superhuman  energy  and  capacity ;  but  hence 
forth  ambition  led  him  into  entanglements  in  which  retributive 
Destiny  became  too  strong  for  him.  He  could  not  escape  the 
adamantine  link  which  indissolubly  unites  sin  to  punishment. 
Poets  of  every  age  have  felt  that 


HEROD  THK  GREAT  43 

Our  acts  our  angels  are,  or  good  or  ill, 
Our  fatal  shadows  that  walk  by  us  still ; 
that 

Our  deeds  still  travel  with  us  from  afar, 

And  what  we  have  been  makes  us  what  we  are. 

No  stroke  of  policy  seemed  more  consummate  than  that  which 
united  the  King  in  marriage  with  the  lovely  Marianme,  whose 
grandfather  he  had  ousted  and  whose  father  he  had  helped  to 
slay ;  but  that  consummation  of  his  good  fortune  contained  in  it 
every  germ  of  his  unspeakable  retribution.  Out  of  the  event 
which  looked  like  his  most  brilliant  success,  adversity  formed 
"the  iron  scourge  and  torturing  hour  "  of  his  remorse  and  ruin. 
In  the  volume  of  human  life,  says  George  Sand,  "  is  found  no 
more  disastrous  p'ige  than  that  on  which  are  inscribed  the  two 
words — '  gratified  desires  ! '"  : 


III. 

His  DOMESTIC  SINS. 

1.  Many  a  public  man  whose  life  is  a  constant  battle  finds  a 
balm  for  all  his  wounds  and  a  refuge  from  all  his  cares  in  the  love 
which  welcomes  him  the  moment  he  crosses  the  threshold  of  his 
own  home.  But  Herod  the  Great  never  knew  that  earthly  paradise 
which  is  created  by  the  mutual  love  of  husband  and  wife,  of 
parents  and  children.  Like  Henry  the  Eighth,  whom  he  greatly 
resembled,  he  had  many  wives,  and  Josephus'  story  of  his  domestic 
feuds  is  one  of  the  most  sordid  records  of  crime  which  have  come 
down  from  ancient  times.  His  court  was  full  of  spies  and 
slanderers  who  played  upon  his  worst  passions,  and  in  one  of  his 
fits  of  jealous  rage  he  gave  orders  for  the  execution  of  the  beauti 
ful,  beloved,  and  innocent  Mariamne,  who  walked  in  noble  silence 
to  her  lonely  death.  The  result  was  what  might  have  been 
expected. 

No  sooner  was  she  dead  than  the  furies  of  remorse  "  took  their 
seats  upon  Herod's  midnight  pillow."  Overcome  with  anguish, 
torn  by  the  pangs  of  regret  for  her  whom  he  had  so  intensely 
loved,  haunted  by  her  ghost,  he  caught  the  pestilence  which  was 
raging  among  his  subjects.  Under  pretence  of  desiring  to  hunt, 

1  F.  W.  Farrar,  The  Herods,  84. 


44  HKROD  THE  GREAT 

lie  retired  to  Samaria,  where  his  strength  was  so  prostrated,  and 
his  reason  so  entirely  unhinged  for  a  time,  that  many  expected 
his  death. 

T[  Perhaps  the  most  affecting  and  convincing  testimony  to 
Mariamne's  great  character  was  Herod's  passionate  remorse.  Tn 
a  frenzy  of  grief  he  invoked  her  name,  he  burst  into  wild  lamenta 
tions,  and  then,  as  if  to  distract  himself  from  his  own  thoughts,  ho 
plunged  into  society ;  he  had  recourse  to  all  his  favourite  pursuits  ; 
he  gathered  intellectual  society  round  him;  he  drank  freely  with 
his  friends;  he  went  to  the  chase.  And  then,  again,  he  gave 
orders  that  his  servants  should  keep  up  the  illusion  of  addressing 
her  as  though  she  could  still  hear  them ;  he  shut  himself  up  in 
Samaria,  the  scene  of  their  first  wedded  life,  and  there,  for  a  long 
time,  attacked  by  a  devouring  fever,  hovered  on  the  verge  of  life 
and  death.  Of  the  three  stately  towers  which  he  afterwards 
added  to  the  walls  of  Jerusalem,  one  was  named  after  his  friend 
Hippias,  the  second  after  his  favourite  brother,  Phasael,  but  the 
third,  most  costly  and  most  richly  worked  of  all,  was  the 
monument  of  his  beloved  Mariamne.1 

Oh,  Mariamne !  now  for  thee 

The  heart  for  which  thou  bled'st  is  bleeding; 
Revenge  is  lost  in  agony, 

And  wild  remorse  to  rage  succeeding. 
Oh,  Mariamne!  where  art  thou? 

Thou  canst  not  hear  my  bitter  pleading: 
Ah !  could'st  thou — thou  would'st  pardon  now, 

Though  Heaven  were  to  my  prayer  unheeding. 

And  is  she  dead  ? — and  did  they  dare 

Obey  my  frenzy's  jealous  raving  ? 
My  wrath  but  doom'd  my  own  despair : 

The  sword  that  smote  her's  o'er  me  waving. — 
But  thou  art  cold,  my  murder'd  love ! 

And  this  dark  heart  is  vainly  craving 
For  her  who  soars  alone  above, 

And  leaves  my  soul  unworthy  saving. 

She's  gone,  who  shared  my  diadem ; 

She  sunk,  with  her  my  joys  entombing; 
I  swept  that  flower  from  Judah's  stem, 

Whose  leaves  for  me  alone  were  blooming; 

1  A.  P.  Stanley,  History  of  the  Jewish  Church,  iii.  376. 


HEROD  THE  GREAT  45 

And  mine's  the  guilt,  and  mine  the  hell, 

This  bosom's  desolation  dooming ; 
And  I  have  earu'd  those  tortures  well, 

Which  uncoiisuined  are  still  consuming!1 

2.  Herod  recovered,  but  only  to  imbrue  his  hands  again  and 
yet  again  in  innocent   blood.     Mariamne's    two  sons,  Alexandei 
and  Aristobulus,  who  inherited  her  beauty  and  gloried  in  their 
Asmomean  descent,  naturally  grew  up  without  any  love  for  the 
murderer  of  their  mother,  and  the  gulf  between  them  and  their 
father  gradually  widened  until  at  last  he  asked  Augustus'  leave 
to  put  the  hapless  youths  to  death.     The  Emperor  gave  cold 
permission  to  have  their   case   tried   at  Bcrytus,   where  Herod 
appeared  in  person  as  the  frantic  accuser  of  his  own  sons.     A 
reluctant  verdict  was  given  against  them,  and  they  were  strangled 
at  Samaria,  where  Herod  had  married  their  mother,  the  fair  young 
Mariamne,  nearly  thirty  years  before. 

1)  Macrobius,  who  wrote  in  the  beginning  of  the  fifth  century, 
narrates  (Saturn,  ii.  4)  that  Augustus,  having  heard  that  Herod 
had  ordered  his  own  son  to  be  slain  in  Syria,  remarked :  "  It  is 
better  to  be  Herod's  swine  (It)  than  his  son  "  (u/oc).  In  the  Greek 
text  there  is  a  bon  mot  and  a  relationship  between  the  words  used 
that  etymologists  may  recognize  even  in  English.  The  law  among 
the  Jews  against  eating  pork  is  hinted  at,  and  the  anecdote  seems 
to  contain  extra-biblical  elements.2 

3.  From  that  time  forth  Herod's  mind  was  haunted  by  the 
ghosts  of  his  sons  as  well  as  that  of  their  mother.     But  every 
crime  he  committed  seemed  to  be  the   prelude   to  yet  another. 
His  eldest  son  Antipater,  the  evil-minded  prince  who  had  poisoned 
his  father's  mind  against  his  half-brothers,  now  regarded  his  own 
succession  to  the  throne  as  assured.     But  his  ill-concealed  joy  at 
the  prospect  of  soon  wearing  a  crown  was  duly  reported  to  the 
dying  tyrant,  who,  five  days  before  his  own  miserable  end,  gave 
the  command  that  his  sou  should  be  executed  and  his  body  cast 
into  an  unhonoured    grave.     And  it  is  said  that  in  a  last  fit  of 
madness  he  left  orders — happily  never  carried  out — that  all  the 
most   distinguished    men    of    the    nation    should    forthwith    be 
summoned  to  Jericho,  shut  up  in  the  hippodrome,  and  massacred 

1  Byron,  Hebrew  Melodies. 

'  J,  J.  Tierney,  in  the  Catholic  Encyclopedia,  vii.  290 


46  HEROD  THE  GREAT 

by  his  soldiers,  that  so  his  funeral  might  be  accompanied  with 
genuine  lamentations  of  the  whole  people,  who  hated  him. 

It  is  inconceivable  that  anyone  should  ever  love  such  a  man. 
Sophocles  says  wisely  that  "  the  gifts  of  enemies  are  no  gifts,"  and 
Herod  learned  the  bitter  truth  of  these  words.  He  was  one  of  the 
greatest  "  benefactors  "  of  his  age,  and  scores  of  cities  at  home  and 
abroad — some  of  them,  such  as  Sebaste  and  Caesarea,  founded  and 
built  by  himself — basked  in  the  sunshine  of  his  princely  favour. 
He  made  Judaea  a  first-rate  kingdom;  he  vastly  increased  its 
wealth ;  he  put  down  brigandage  with  a  high  hand,  making  life 
and  property  safe  ;  he  obtained  many  edicts  in  favour  of  the  Jews  ; 
in  particular,  he  won  for  them  exemption  from  military  service, 
and  immunities  which  secured  the  due  performance  of  their 
religious  rites.  But  it  was  all  to  no  purpose.  His  labour  was 
lost,  because  it  was  not  love's  labour.  The  nation  remained 
stubbornly  unregardful  of  those  magnificent  boons,  and  brooded 
so  fiercely  on  his  infractions  of  their  Law  that  latterly  he  did  not 
even  care  to  attempt  the  impossible  task  of  trying  to  win  their 
approval.  In  his  own  country  the  king  of  the  Jews  lived  and 
moved  amid  a  chaos  of  hatreds.  He  may  well  have  exclaimed  in 
the  words  which  are  put  into  the  lips  of  another  Jewish  king, 
"  All  is  vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit,"  though  it  is  doubtful  if  he 
ever  got  so  far  as  the  disillusioned  poet  who  said : 

Without  a  sigh  would  I  resign 

This  busy  scene  of  splendid  woe, 
To  make  that  calm  contentment  mine 

Which  virtue  knows,  or  seems  to  know. 


IV. 

His  RELATION  TO  THE  MESSIAH. 

1.  It  was  towards  the  end  of  this  tyrant's  reign,  probably  in 
the  year  6  B.C. — the  common  chronology  being  erroneous — that 
Jesus  was  born  in  Bethlehem.  Tertullian  makes  the  strange 
statement  that  some  of  the  Jews  were  of  opinion  that  Herod 
himself  was  the  Christ — "  Christum  Herodem  esse  dixerunt." 
That  is  incredible.  Herod  might  more  correctly  have  been 


HEROD  THE  GREAT  47 

designated  the  Anti- Christ  than  the  Christ.  Bishop  Westcott 
says  truly  that  "  the  history  of  the  Herodian  family  presents 
one  side  of  the  last  development  of  the  Jewish  nation.  Side  by 
side  with  the  spiritual  Kingdom  of  God,  preached  by  John  the 
Baptist,  and  founded  by  the  Lord,  a  kingdom  of  the  world  was 
established,  which  in  its  external  splendour  recalled  the  tradi 
tional  magnificence  of  Solomon.  The  simultaneous  realizations 
of  the  two  principles,  national  and  spiritual,  which  had  long 
variously  influenced  the  Jews,  is  a  fact  pregnant  with  instruction. 
In  the  fulness  of  time  a  descendant  of  Esau  established  a  false 
counterpart  of  the  promised  glories  of  the  Messiah." 

2.  But  the  star  of  the  true  Messiah  arose,  and  shone  over 
Bethlehem,  in  the  dark  night  of  history  when  Herod's  star  was 
near  its  setting.  And  the  momentary  conjunction  of  the  names 
of  two  so  diverse  Kings  of  the  Jews  is  one  of  the  strangest  things 
in  the  book  of  time.  Herod's  conduct  towards  the  Magi  is  just 
what  we  should  have  expected.  All  his  morbid  jealousy,  all  his 
lying  craftiness,  and  all  his  bloodthirsty  cruelty,  are  revealed  in 
the  Evangelical  narrative.  He  who  had  built  a  temple  to  the  God 
of  the  Jews,  and  many  temples  to  the  gods  of  the  Gentiles,  had  no 
religion  of  his  own.  His  proposal  to  worship  the  child  at  Bethle 
hem,  who  was  "  born  king  of  the  Jews,"  only  masked  his  intention 
k>  destroy  one  more  rival.  And  when  he  found  the  Magi  had,  as 
he  said,  "  befooled  "  him,  he  would  doubtless  have  dealt  with  them, 
could  he  have  laid  his  hands  upon  them,  as  he  was  wont  to  deal 
with  all  who  crossed  his  purposes.  It  was  well  for  them  that 
they  received  a  warning  to  return  to  their  own  country  by  another 
way.  But  it  was  ill  for  the  innocent  babes  of  Bethlehem,  who 
were  left  to  bear  the  brunt  of  the  tyrant's  wrath.  In  the  hope  of 
laying  his  murderous  hands  on  one  young  life — which,  however, 
was  far  beyond  his  reach — he  spread  a  wide  net.  "  He  sent  forth, 
and  slew  all  the  male  children  that  were  in  Bethlehem,  and  in  all 
the  borders  thereof,  from  two  years  old  and  under."  These  were 
the  first  Christian  martyrs.  At  least  theirs  was  the  first  innocent 
blood  that  was  shed  for  Jesus'  sake. 

^|  The  truth  of  this  story  [of  the  massacre  of  the  innocents] 
has  been  questioned.  The  chief  ground  is  the  silence  of  Josephus 
on  the  subject.  While  he  speaks  of  many  cruel  deeds  of  Herod, 


48  HEROD  THE  GREAT 

he  passes  this  one  by.  But  it  is  plainly  quite  of  a  piece  with 
Herod's  well-known  character,  and,  indeed,  compared  with  his 
other  deeds  of  monstrous  cruelty,  it  would  easily  escape  notice. 
The  whole  number  of  victims,  probably  not  more  than  twenty  or 
thirty,  would  not  make  a  very  great  sensation  at  that  time. 
Besides,  the  whole  of  Josephus'  statements  in  regard  to  the 
Messianic  expectations  and  doings  of  his  time  are  to  be  looked 
upon  with  some  suspicion,  for  he  seems  to  have  been  afraid  to 
make  many  clear  and  direct  allusions  to  those  matters.  The  deed 
illustrates  well  Herod's  general  character  for  bloodthirsty  cruelty 
and  short-sighted  folly.1 

3.  But  at  last  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling.  The 
Evangelist's  words,  "  Herod  was  dead,"  are  more  than  a  statement 
of  historical  fact;  they  are  a  sigh  of  relief  heaved  by  a  long- 
suffering  universe.  Heaven  as  well  as  earth  could  now  breathe 
more  freely.  In  a  dream  Joseph  heard  a  sympathetic  angel  say, 
"  Arise  .  .  .  for  they  are  dead  that  sought  the  young  child's  life." 
The  plural  number  "they"  expresses  a  general  idea,  a  class, 
though  only  a  single  person  is  meant.  Herod  and  all  his  kind 
"have  their  day,  and  cease  to  be."  Of  course  he  received  a 
splendid  funeral.  "  There  was  a  bier  all  of  gold  .  .  .  the  conclu 
sion  of  the  life  of  Herod  "  (Josephus,  JB.J.  I.  xxxiii.  9). 

The  boast  of  heraldry,  the  pomp  of  power, 

And  all  that  beauty,  all  that  wealth  e'er  gave, 

Awaits  alike  the  inevitable  hour. 

The  paths  of  glory  lead  but  to  the  grave. 

Meanwhile  the  Child  of  Bethlehem,  born  in  this  tyrant's 
reign,  and  providentially  saved  from  the  massacre  of  the  innocents, 
was  opening  His  eyes  to  all  the  wonder  of  the  world — the  world 
which  He  had  come  to  redeem.  The  Herodians  played  their  part  for 
a  little  while  upon  the  stage  of  history,  and  then  sank  into  oblivion. 
Their  sovereignty  had  none  of  the  elements  of  stability.  But 
while  Herod  Antipas  was  tetrarch  of  Galilee,  and  Herod  Philip 
tetrarch  of  Ituraea,  Jesus  the  true  Christ  founded  the  spiritual 
Kingdom  which  is  to  endure  unto  all  generations;  the  Kingdom 
which  is  righteousness,  and  peace,  and  joy  in  the  Holy  Spirit; 
the  Kingdom  which  is  to  bring  to  all  mankind  numberless, 
priceless,  endless  blessings.  That  Kingdom  has  come,  is  now 
1  D.  M.  W.  Laird,  in  the  Dictionary  of  Christ  and  the  Gospels,  i.  829, 


HEROD  THE  GREAT  49 

coming,  and  is  yet  to  come.  Herod's  palaces  soon  crumbled  into 
dust ;  of  his  temple  not  one  stone  was  left  upon  another ;  and  all 
his  cities  are  one  with  Nineveh  and  Tyre.  The  Great  Herod  is 
dead,  but  the  Holy  Child,  whose  blood  he  tried  to  shed,  is  alive  for 
evermore.  King  of  kings  and  Lord  of  lords,  He  lives  to  emancipate 
the  world  from  all  Herodian  tyrannies,  to  enfranchise  the  whole 
human  family  with  the  glorious  liberty  of  the  sons  of  God. 

So  be  it,  Lord !  Thy  throne  shall  never, 
Like  earth's  proud  empires,  pass  away; 

Thy  kingdom  stands  and  grows  for  ever, 
Till  all  Thy  creatures  own  Thy  sway. 

Tf  Everybody  in  this  room  has  been  taught  to  pray  daily, 
"Thy  kingdom  come."  Now,  if  we  hear  a  man  swear  in  the 
streets,  we  think  it  very  wrong,  and  say  he  "  takes  God's  name  in 
vain."  But  there's  a  twenty  times  worse  way  of  taking  His  name 
in  vain  than  that.  It  is  to  ask  God  for  what  we  don't  want.  He 
doesn't  like  that  sort  of  prayer.  If  you  don't  want  a  thing,  don't 
ask  for  it :  such  asking  is  the  worst  mockery  of  your  King  you 
can  insult  Him  with;  the  soldiers  striking  Him  on  the  head  with 
the  reed  was  nothing  to  that.  If  you  do  not  wish  for  His 
kingdom,  don't  pray  for  it.  But  if  you  do,  you  must  do  more  than 
pray  for  it ;  you  must  work  for  it.  And,  to  work  for  it,  you  must 
know  what  it  is ;  we  have  all  prayed  for  it  many  a  day  without 
thinking.  Observe,  it  is  a  kingdom  that  is  to  come  to  us;  we  are 
not  to  go  to  it.  Also,  it  is  not  to  be  a  kingdom  of  the  dead,  but 
of  the  living.  Also,  it  is  not  to  come  all  at  once,  but  quietly ; 
nobody  knows  how.  "  The  kingdom  of  God  cometh  not  with 
observation."  Also,  it  is  not  to  come  outside  of  us,  but  in  our 
hearts:  "  the  kingdom  of  God  is  within  you."  And,  being  within 
us,  it  is  not  a  thing  to  be  seen,  but  to  be  felt ;  and  though  it 
brings  all  substance  of  good  with  it,  it  does  not  consist  in  that : 
"  the  kingdom  of  God  is  not  meat  and  drink,  but  righteousness, 
peace,  and  joy  in  the  Holy  Ghost  "  ;  joy,  that  is  to  say,  in  the  holy, 
healthful,  and  helpful  Spirit.  Now,  if  we  want  to  work  for  this 
kingdom,  and  to  bring  it,  and  enter  into  it,  there's  one  curious 
condition  to  be  first  accepted.  You  must  enter  it  as  children,  or 
not  at  all :  "Whosoever  will  not  receive  it  as  a  little  child  shall 
not  enter  therein."  And  again,  "  Suffer  little  children  to  come 
unto  me,  and  forbid  them  not,  for  of  such  is  the  kingdom  of 
heaven."  l 

1  Rnskin,  The  Crown  of  Wild  Olive,  §  46  ( Wurkt,  xviii.  427). 

MARY-SIMON — 4 


JOHN   THE   BAPTIST. 

I. 

JOHN  AND  THE  JEWS. 


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Andrews,  S.  J.,  The  Life  of  Our  Lord  (1892),  12,  140. 
Arnold,  T.,  Sermons  Chiefly  on  the  Interpretation  of  Scripture  (1878),  109 
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Lee,  F.  T.,  Tlie  New  Testament  Period  and  its  Leaders  (1913),  56 
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Scott,  E.  F.,  The  Kingdom  and  tlie  Messiah  (1911),  58. 
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Skrine,  J.  H.,  Saints  and  Worthies  (1901),  46. 
Stalker,  J.,  The  Two  St.  Johns  (1895),  18!). 
Taylor,  W.  M.,  The  Siknce  of  Jesus  (1891),  17. 
Whyte,  A.,  Bible  Characters  :  Joseph  and  Mary  to  James  (1900),  26. 
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Catholic  Encyclopaedia,  viii.  (1910)  486  (C.  L.  Souvay). 
Dictionary  of  the  Bible,  ii.  (1899)  677  (LI.  J.  M.  Bebb). 

„  „         „       (Single-volume,  1909),  474  (J   G.  Tasker). 

Dictionary  of  Christ  and  the  Gospels,  i.  (1906)  861  (J.  C.  Lambert). 
Encyclopedia  Biblica,  ii.  (1901),  col.  2498  (T.  K.  Cheyne). 
Smith's  Dictionary  of  the  Bible.,  i.  (1893)  1736  (E.  Hawkins). 


M 


JOHN   AND  THE  JEWS. 

Verily  I  say  unto  you,  Among  them  that  are  born  of  women  there  hath 
not  arisen  a  greater  than  John  the  Baptist.--Matt.  xi.  n. 

EVERYTHING  that  we  are  told  of  Johii  the  Baptist  is  unique.  The 
asceticism  of  his  life  in  the  desert,  the  startling  message  with 
which  he  broke  the  silence  maintained  by  the  spirit  of  prophecy 
for  four  hundred  years,  the  incorruptible  sincerity  of  his  humility, 
out  of  which  no  allurement  could  bribe  him,  the  fearless  honesty 
of  his  words,  and  the  tragic  horror  of  his  death — all  combine  to 
give  him  a  peculiar  and  distinctive  place  on  the  page  of  Scripture. 
But  these  things  were,  after  all,  only  the  indications  and  accom 
paniments  of  the  singularity  of  his  official  position ;  for  he  stands 
alone  among  the  servants  of  God.  He  came,  no  doubt,  in  the 
spirit  and  power  of  Elijah,  and  his  dress  is  not  the  only  thing 
about  him  that  reminds  us  of  the  prophet  of  Gilead ;  but  yet, 
take  him  for  all  in  all,  there  is  no  one  to  whom  he  can  be  properly 
compared.  He  stood  between  the  Jewish  and  the  Christian  dis 
pensations,  having  much  that  connected  him  with  both,  and  yet 
belonging  exclusively  to  neither.  He  had  more  knowledge  of  the 
nature  of  the  person  and  work  of  the  Messiah  than  any  of  his 
predecessors  among  the  prophets,  and  yet  "  he  that  is  least  in  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  is  greater  than  he." 

For  centuries  the  thoughts  and  passion  of  the  prophets  had 
streamed  into  and  filled  the  Jewish  heart.  They  kindled  there 
vague  desires,  wild  hopes  of  a  far-oil'  kingdom,  passionate  dis 
content  with  things  as  they  were.  At  last,  about  the  time  of 
the  birth  of  Christ,  these  scattered  dreams  and  hopes  concentrated 
themselves  into  one  desire,  took  form  and  substance  in  one 
prophecy — the  advent  of  the  anointed  King.  It  was  the  blazing 
up  of  an  excitement  which  had  been  smouldering  for  a  thousand 
years;  it  was  the  last  and  most  powerful  of  a  long  series  of 
oscillations  which  had  been  gradually  increasing  in  swing  and 


54  JOHN  THE  BAPTIST 

force.  Now  two  things  are  true:  first,  wherever  there  is  this 
passion  in  a  people,  it  embodies  itself  in  one  man,  who  is  to  be 
its  interpreter ;  secondly,  wherever  a  great  problem  of  the 
human  spirit  is  growing  towards  its  solution,  and  the  soil  of 
humanity  is  prepared  for  new  seed  from  heaven,  God  sends  His 
chosen  creature  to  proclaim  the  truth  which  brings  the  light. 

So  a  great  man  is  the  product  of  two  things — of  the  passion 
of  his  age,  and  of  the  choice  of  God.  So  far  as  he  is  the  former, 
he  is  but  the  interpreter  of  his  own  time,  and  only  the  highest 
man  of  his  time ;  so  far  as  he  is  the  latter,  he  is  beyond  his  age, 
and  points  forward  to  a  higher  revelation. 

Such  was  the  Baptist's  position — the  interpreter  of  the 
spiritual  wants  of  the  Jewish  people,  the  prophet  of  a  greater 
revelation  in  the  future. 

If  There  is  something  which  touches  in  us  that  chord  of  sadness 
which  is  always  ready  to  vibrate,  when  we  think  that  John  the 
Baptist  was  the  last  of  all  the  heroes  of  the  Old  Dispensation, 
that  with  him  closed  the  goodly  fellowship  of  the  prophets.  For 
we  cannot  look  at  the  last  lighting  up  of  the  intellect  of  a  man, 
the  last  effort  for  freedom  of  a  dying  nation,  or  the  last  glory 
of  an  ancient  institution  like  that  of  the  Jewish  prophets,  without 
a  sense  of  sadness. 

Men  are  we,  and  must  grieve  when  even  the  shade 
Of  that  which  once  was  great  hath  passed  away. 

But  if  there  be  some  melancholy  in  the  feeling  with  which  we  view 
the  Baptist,  there  is  also  much  of  enthusiasm.  If  he  was  the 
last,  he  was  also  the  greatest,  of  the  prophets.  That  which  all 
the  others  had  dimly  imaged,  he  presented  in  clear  light;  that 
which  they  had  spoken  in  parables,  he  declared  in  the  plainest 
words.1 

I. 

AT  HOME. 

1.  As  the  traveller  emerges  from  the  dreary  wilderness  that 
lies  between  Sinai  and  the  southern  frontier  of  Palestine — a 
scorching  desert,  in  which  Elijah  was  glad  to  find  shelter  from 
the  sword-like  rays  in  the  shade  of  the  retem  shrub — he 

1  Stopford  A.  Brook*. 


JOHN  AND  THE  JEWS  55 

before  him  a  long  line  of  hills,  which  is  the  beginning  of  "  the  hill 
country  "  of  Judiea.  In  contrast  with  the  sand  wastes  which  he 
has  traversed,  the  valleys  seem  to  laugh  and  sing.  Greener  and 
yet  greener  grow  the  pasture  lands,  till  he  can  understand  how 
Nabal  and  other  sheep-masters  were  able  to  find  maintenance  for 
vast  Hocks  of  sheep.  Here  and  there  are  the  crumbled  ruins 
which  mark  the  site  of  ancient  towns  and  villages  tenanted  now 
by  the  jackal  or  the  wandering  Arab.  Among  these,  a  modern 
traveller  has  identified  the  site  of  Juttah,  the  village  home  of 
Zacharias  and  his  wife  Elisabeth. 

Zacharias  was  a  priest,  "  of  the  course  of  Abijah,"  and  twice  a 
year  he  journeyed  to  Jerusalem  to  fulfil  his  office,  for  a  week  of 
six  days  and  two  Sabbaths.  There  were,  Josephus  tells  us,  some 
what  more  than  20,000  priests  settled  in  Jud<ea  at  this  time ;  and 
very  many  of  them  were  like  those  whom  Malachi  denounced  as 
degrading  and  depreciating  the  Temple  services.  The  general 
character  of  the  priesthood  was  deeply  tainted  by  the  corruption 
of  the  times,  and  as  a  class  they  were  blind  leaders  of  the  blind. 
Not  a  few,  however,  were  evidently  deeply  religious  men,  for  we 
tiud  that  "  a  great  number  of  the  priests,"  after  the  crucifixion, 
believed  on  Christ  and  joined  His  followers.  In  this  class  we 
must,  therefore,  place  Zacharias,  who  is  described  as  being 
"  righteous  before  God." 

2.  The  parents  were  old,  and  had  ceased  to  have  the  hope  of 
children.  In  similar  circumstances,  the  Father  of  the  Faithful,  in 
times  remote,  received  the  promise  of  a  son  ;  and  the  special 
favour  of  God,  thus  indicated,  heightened  his  sense  of  gratitude 
and  strained  his  anticipations  to  the  utmost  as  to  the  issues 
bound  up  in  his  son's  life.  Zacharias  and  Elisabeth,  in  like 
manner,  must  have  felt  that  their  child  was  in  a  peculiar  way  a 
gift  of  God,  and  that  a  special  importance  was  to  attach  to  his 
life.  When  anything  has  been  long  desired,  but  hope  of  ever 
obtaining  it  has  died  out  of  the  heart,  and  yet,  after  all,  it  is 
given,  the  gift  appears  infinitely  greater  than  it  would  have  done 
if  received  at  the  time  when  it  was  expected.  The  real  reason, 
however,  why  in  this  case  the  gift  was  withheld  so  long  was  that 
the  hour  of  Providence  had  not  come.  The  fulness  of  time,  when 
the  Messiah  should  appear,  and  therefore  when  His  forerunner 


56  JOHN  THE  BAPTIST 

should  come  into  the  world,  was  settled  in  the  Divine  plan  and 
could  not  be  altered  by  an  hour.  Therefore  had  Zacharias  and 
his  wife  to  wait. 

One  memorable  autumn,  when  the  land  was  full  of  the  grape- 
harvest,  Zacharias  left  his  home,  in  the  cradle  of  the  hills,  some 
three  thousand  feet  above  the  Mediterranean,  for  his  priestly 
service.  Beaching  the  Temple,  he  would  lodge  in  the  cloisters 
and  spend  his  days  in  the  innermost  court,  which  none  might 
enter,  save  priests  in  their  sacred  garments.  Among  the  various 
priestly  duties,  none  was  held  in  such  high  esteem  as  the  offering 
of  incense,  which  was  presented  morning  and  evening,  on  a  special 
golden  altar,  in  the  Holy  Place  at  the  time  of  prayer.  "  The 
whole  multitude  of  the  people  were  praying  without  at  the  time 
of  incense."  So  honourable  was  this  office  that  it  was  fixed  by 
lot,  and  none  was  allowed  to  perform  it  twice.  Only  once  in  a 
priest's  life  was  he  permitted  to  sprinkle  the  incense  on  the 
burning  coals,  which  an  assistant  had  already  brought  from  the 
altar  of  burnt-sacrifice,  and  spread  on  the  altar  of  incense  before 
the  veil. 

"  And  there  appeared  unto  him  an  angel  of  the  Lord  standing 
on  the  right  side  of  the  altar  of  incense."  How  circumstantial 
the  narrative  is!  There  could  be  no  mistake.  He  stood — and 
he  stood  on  the  right  side.  It  was  Gabriel,  who  stands  in  the 
presence  of  God,  that  had  been  sent  to  speak  to  the  priest  to 
declare  the  good  tidings  that  his  prayer  was  heard ;  that  his  wife 
should  bear  a  son,  who  should  be  called  John;  that  the  child 
should  be  welcomed  with  joy,  should  be  a  Nazirite,  should  be  filled 
with  the  Holy  Spirit  from  his  birth,  should  inherit  the  spirit  and 
power  of  Elijah,  and  should  go  before  the  face  of  Christ,  to 
prepare  His  way,  by  turning  the  hearts  of  the  fathers  to  the 
children,  and  the  disobedient  to  walk  in  the  wisdom  of  the  just. 

3.  As  a  rule,  the  naming  of  children  takes  place  in  haphazard 
fashion,  the  child  receiving  a  certain  name  simply  because  some 
relative  has  borne  it  before  him,  or  because  the  sound  has  pleased 
the  fancy  of  father  or  mother,  or  for  some  similar  reason.  But 
on  this  occasion  the  name  was  Divinely  decided  beforehand ;  and 
this  was  an  indication  that  this  child  was  created  for  a  special 
purpose.  The  name  "  John  "  signifies,  "  The  Lord  is  favourable," 


JOHN  AND  THE  JEWS  57 

or,  put  more  briefly,  "  The  Gift  of  God."  He  was  a  gift  to  his 
parents,  but  also  to  far  wider  circles — to  his  country  and  to 
mankind. 

Not  only  was  this  child  to  be  a  gift,  he  was  also  to  be  gifted ; 
so  the  father  was  informed :  "  He  shall  be  great  in  the  sight  of 
the  Lord."  To  be  a  great  man  is  the  ambition  of  every  child  of 
Adam  ;  and  the  thought  of  having  as  a  sou  one  who  is  a  great 
man  is  a  suggestion  which  thrills  every  parent's  heart.  Great 
ness  is,  indeed,  an  ambiguous  word.  Who  is  great  ?  To  be 
notorious,  to  be  much  in  the  mouths  of  men,  to  have  a  name 
which  is  a  household  word — this  is  the  superficial  conception  of 
greatness.  But  such  greatness  may  be  very  paltry ;  to  as  much 
greatness  as  this,  multitudes  of  the  meanest  and  most  worthless  of 
mankind  have  attained.  But  John  was  to  be  great  "  in  the  sight 
of  the  Lord."  This  is  a  different  matter ;  it  implies  not  only 
genuine  gifts,  but  gifts  employed  for  other  than  selfish  ends. 

4.  It  was  an  atmosphere  of  reverence,  conscientiousness,  and 
refinement  that  John  breathed  from  the  first.  He  belonged  to 
the  choicest  caste  of  the  chosen  people,  using  the  word  without 
its  stigma.  The  son  of  a  priestly  race,  a  race  which  held  the 
chief  and  most  unquestioned  position  in  the  nation,  he  inherited 
its  seclusive  tendencies,  and  to  his  opening  mind  its  quiet  and 
retirement  must  have  been  congenial.  He  was  of  the  priestly 
race  on  both  sides,  for  his  mother  was  "of  the  daughters  of 
Aaron."  Heredity  and  its  bias  count  for  much  in  the  inclination 
of  the  developing  life.  The  fineness  of  grain  that  comes  from  a 
godly  and  cultured  ancestry,  especially  when  there  is  no  concern 
about  the  basal  questions,  "  What  shall  we  eat,  what  shall  we 
drink,  and  wherewithal  shall  we  be  clothed?"  constitutes  a 
mental  and  spiritual  capital  of  the  golden  denomination,  a  capital 
whose  value  can  hardly  be  overestimated. 

John's  recollections  in  after  years  would  be  of  the  constant 
perusal  by  his  father  of  the  sacred  books,  and  of  his  patient 
teaching  of  their  contents  to  him.  To  no  ordinance  of  the  Lord 
was  the  devout  Hebrew  parent  more  faithful  than  to  that  which 
enjoined  the  careful  catechizing  of  his  children  in  the  first 
principles  of  their  faith  and  first  records  of  their  history:  "These 
words,  which  1  command  thee  this  day,  shall  be  in  thine  heart : 


58  JOHN  THE  BAPTIST 

and  thou  shalt  teach  them  diligently  unto  thy  children,  and  shalt 
talk  of  them  when  thou  sittest  in  thine  house,  and  when  thou 
walkest  by  the  way,  and  when  thou  liest  down,  and  when  thou 
risest  up  "  (Deut.  vi.  6,  7). 

Family  worship  is  also  a  strong  and  sacred  power.  We  can 
almost  see  the  small  group  in  the  eventide  reverently  laying  aside 
other  duties,  while  "  the  sire  turns  o'er  wi'  patriarchal  grace,"  or 
rather  unrolls,  some  copy  of  the  Law  or  of  the  Prophets : 

The  priest-like  father  reads  the  sacred  page, 

How  Abram  was  the  friend  of  God  on  high; 
Or,  Moses  bade  eternal  warfare  wage 

With  Amalek's  ungracious  progeny ; 

Or,  how  the  royal  bard  did  groaning  lie 
Beneath  the  stroke  of  Heaven's  avenging  ire ; 

Or  Job's  pathetic  plaint,  and  wailing  cry  ; 
Or  rapt  Isaiah's  wild,  seraphic  fire ; 
Or  other  holy  seers  that  tune  the  sacred  lyre.1 

Happy  is  he  or  she  who  has  such  a  father  and  mother,  and 
whose  childhood  is  nurtured  in  such  a  home.  Out  of  such  home? 
have  come  the  men  who  have  been  the  reformative  and  regenera 
tive  forces  of  the  world.  The  influence  of  the  mother  is  especially 
noteworthy ;  nearly  all  men  who  have  been  conspicuously  great 
and  good  have  owed  much  to  their  mothers.  In  this  narrative 
the  mother  is  less  prominent  than  the  father  ;  but  enough  is  told 
to  show  of  what  manner  of  spirit  she  was.  One  likes  to  think  of 
the  three  months  spent  by  Mary  under  her  roof.  The  homage 
paid  by  Elisabeth  to  her  on  whom  had  been  bestowed  the  greater 
honour  of  being  the  mother  of  the  Lord  was  an  anticipation  of  the 
humility  of  her  son,  when  he  said,  "  He  must  increase,  but  I  must 
decrease." 

U  In  Phillips  Brooks  the  power  of  observation,  which  con 
stitutes  the  basis  of  the  imaginative  faculty,  was  fused  with  the 
vast  power  of  feeling  which  came  from  his  mother.  She  had  the 
spirit  of  the  reformer,  who  is  born  to  set  the  world  right  and 
cannot  contemplate  with  serenity  the  world  as  it  is.  She 
hungered  and  thirsted  for  righteousness  whose  coining  is  so  slow. 
So  strong  was  her  will,  so  intense  her  nature,  that  she  grew 
impatient  with  the  obstacles  in  the  way.  Phillips  Brooks  knew 

1  Burns,  The  Colter's  Saturday  Night. 


JOHN  AND  THE  JEWS  59 

the  facts  of  life  with  his  father's  eyes,  and  the  hopes  and  possi 
bilities  of  life  through  the  eyes  of  his  mother.  Had  he  received 
by  transmission  only  the  outlook  of  his  father  without  the  inspired 
heroism  of  his  mother,  he  would  not  have  risen  to  greatness. 
Hut,  on  the  other  hand,  had  he  inherited  from  his  mother  alone, 
he  might  have  been  known  as  an  ardent  reformer,  not  wholly 
unlike  his  distinguished  kinsman,  Wendell  Phillips, — a  type 
familiar  in  New  England ;  but  the  wonderful  fascination  of  his 
power  for  men  of  every  class  and  degree,  the  universal  appeal  to 
a  common  humanity,  would  have  been  wanting.1 


IL 

IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

I  think  he  had  not  heard  of  the  far  towns ; 
Nor  of  the  deeds  of  men,  nor  of  kings'  crowns: 
Before  the  thought  of  God  took  hold  of  him, 

As  he  was  sitting  dreaming  in  the  calm 
Of  one  first  noon,  upon  the  desert's  rim, 
Beneath  the  tall  fair  shadows  of  the  palm, 
All  overcome  with  some  strange  inward  balm. 

So  wrote  the  Irish  poet,  Arthur  O'Shaughnessy,  of  John  the 
Baptist ;  and  so  writing  he  touched  two  matters  which  are  very 
important  to  any  man  who  would  understand  the  desert  prophet. 
The  first  is  that  nature  had  a  great  share  in  making  him.  The 
sights  and  sounds  of  the  solitary  wilderness  were  for  years 
familiar  to  him.  The  expansive  sky  above,  the  pure  air  to 
breathe,  and  all  the  wide  outdoor  life  of  the  desert  became  a  part 
of  the  very  character  of  John.  The  physical  health  which  nature 
gives  to  those  who  live  on  most  intimate  terms  with  her  was  his. 
The  quick  eye,  the  direct  and  incisive  habit  of  mind,  the  freedom 
from  all  the  graceful  deceptions  of  civilization,  the  rugged,  ex 
pressive  speech  which  might  have  been  taken  fresh  from  the  soil 
— all  these  were  the  contributions  of  that  life  in  the  desert  which 
was  a  school  to  John. 

1.  In  the  meagreness   of   the  historic  record,  no  mention  is 
made  of  the  occasion  on  which  John  definitely  left  his  home  and 
1  A.  V.  G.  Allen,  Phillips  Brook*:  Memories  of  His  Lift,  344. 


6o  JOHN  THE  BAPTIST 

betook  himself  to  the  open  country  of  the  southern  borderland. 
But  most  probably  it  was  on  the  death  of  one  of  his  now  aged 
parents.  As  a  Nazirite,  he  was  not  to  "come  near  to  a  dead 
body."  "  He  shall  not  make  himself  unclean,"  said  the  Law,  "  for 
his  father,  or  for  his  mother,  for  his  brother,  or  for  his  sister, 
when  they  die :  because  his  separation  unto  God  is  upon  his 
head."  And  if  we  suppose  that  he  afterwards  returned  home,  it 
would  be  but  for  the  short  time  his  other  parent  lived,  on  whose 
death  he,  having  no  near  relatives  or  close  personal  friends  (for 
he  was,  and  probably  always  had  been,  of  a  solitary  habit),  and 
having,  moreover,  his  manner  of  life  shaped  out  for  him,  partly  by 
his  vow,  and  partly  by  those  growing  thoughts  within  him  which 
drove  him  out,  would  finally  leave  "  the  hill  country  of  Judaea." 
Then  he  made  his  dwelling-place  far  from  the  homes  and  haunts 
of  men,  among  "  the  deserts  and  mountains,  and  dens  and  caves 
of  the  earth." 

^f  "  Oh,  how  often,  when  living  in  the  desert,  in  that  exten 
sive  solitude  which,  dried  up  by  the  burning  rays  of  the  sun, 
offered  a  frightful  dwelling-place  to  the  monks,  it  seemed  to  me 
that  I  was  in  the  midst  of  the  pleasures  of  Korue."  Here  in  these 
brief  words  St.  Jerome  has  revealed  to  us  his  abode,  bereft  of  all 
the  comforts  which  are  needed  for  the  miserable  life  of  man ! 
The  ground  dry  and  burnt  up,  without  a  vestige  of  verdure,  no 
plants,  no  trees  to  afford  a  shade  from  the  noonday  heat.  There 
were  no  towering  cedars,  no  luxuriant  palms,  nor  stately  trees 
affording  fruit,  pleasing  the  eye  by  their  beauty,  no  running 
waters,  no  refreshing  streams  to  cool  the  air  and  afford  a  soothing 
murmur  to  the  ear,  no  kind  of  rest  or  refreshment — in  a  word,  a 
desert  very  much  deserted  of  men.  I  mean  men  whose  desires  go 
no  farther  than  the  earth,  yet  as  such  even  do  not  seek  so  un 
fertile  a  land.  Here,  indeed,  did  this  great  man  fix  his  dwelling- 
place,  he  who  pretends  to  no  one  thing  of  earth.  Here  did  that 
divine  youth  imprison  himself  of  his  own  free  will,  and  here  did 
that  clear  light  of  the  Church  bury  the  best  and  most  nourishing 
days  of  his  life,  fully  resolved  upon  spending  it  all  here,  had 
Heaven  not  designed  otherwise,  and  brought  him  forth  for  the 
good  of  the  world  to  be  its  great  and  most  brilliant  beacon  of  light. 
Nevertheless,  we  might  well  say  that  although  the  body  was  as  a 
fact  in  so  rough  a  place,  yet  the  soul  was  in  the  enjoyment  o? 
supreme  delight.1 

1  De  Sigiieuza,  The  Lift,  of  Saint  Jerome  (ed.  1907),  146. 


JOHN  AND  THE  JEWS  61 

2.  Why  did  John  go  to  the  wilderness  ?  Hermits  went  to  the 
wilderness  of  Jud.ea,  as  Josephus  tells  us  about  Banus,  who  "lived 
in  the  desert,  and  used  no  other  clothing  than  grew  upon  trees, 
and  had  no  other  food  than  grew  of  its  own  accord,  and  bathed 
himself  in  cold  water  frequently."  Josephus  "  imitated  him  in 
those  things  "  for  three  years.  Keim  thinks  that  John  also  led  a 
"  hermit  life."  Certainly  he  lived  a  solitary  life,  but,  when  he 
comes  forth  at  last,  it  is  not  as  a  hermit  or  man  of  the  woods. 
He  did  indeed  lead  "  a  rural  life  away  from  the  capital,"  but  it  is 
by  no  means  clear  that  he  was  an  anchorite,  though  many  of  them 
came  to  these  regions.  It  has,  indeed,  been  urged  that  John  went 
into  the  desert,  like  Josephus,  to  study  the  doctrine  of  the  Essenes, 
and  that  he  became  one.  But  there  is  no  foundation  for  this  idea. 
These  cenobites  had  monasteries  along  the  shores  of  the  Dead  Sea. 
They  numbered  some  four  thousand  in  all.  The  Essenes  were  an 
offshoot  of  Pharisaism  with  ascetic  tendencies  concerning  animal 
food,  marriage,  and  animal  sacrifices,  but  with  an  admixture  of 
the  philosophy  of  Parseeism  and  Pythagoreanism,  including  the 
worship  of  the  sun.  But  there  is  no  real  reason  for  thinking 
that  John  had  any  contact  with  them;  certainly  he  did  not  accept 
their  cardinal  tenets  about  animal  food  (he  ate  locusts),  or 
marriage,  which  he  did  not  condemn,  or  about  sun-worship,  which 
he  did  not  practise.  He  did  practise  the  ascetic  life,  as  was  true 
of  many  others  not  Essenes,  but  he  came  forth  and  lived  among 
men.  "  He  preached  the  Kingdom  of  God  ;  they  preached  isolation. 
They  abandoned  society ;  he  strove  to  reform  it." 

His  predecessor  Amos  had  been  a  herdsman  and  a  dresser  of 
sycomoies  in  that  very  region  eight  centuries  before.  Like  Amos, 
also,  he  would  meditate  upon  his  high  calling  better  in  this  wild 
and  desolate  region.  But  John  was  no  mere  imitator  of  anyone. 
He  was  sui  generis,  and  all  the  more  so  because  of  his  grapple  with 
himself  in  the  wilderness.  He  went  apart,  not,  as  the  usual 
monastic  doea,  to  gain  merit  with  God,  but  to  face  his  life 
problem  and  to  adjust  himself  to  it.  His  going  was  "an  absolute 
break  with  the  prevalent  Pharisaic  type  of  piety."  He  went,  not 
to  stay,  but  to  get  ready  to  come  back,  to  come  back  to  save  his 
people.  But  John  "  learned  his  lesson  at  the  feet  of  no  human 
teacher."  .Reynolds  has  a  fine  word:  "His  education  was  the 
memory  of  his  childhood  and  the  knowledge  of  his  commission, 


62  JOHN  THE   BAPTIST 

and  was  effected  by  the  Spirit  of  the  living  God.  His  school 
masters  were  the  rocks  of  the  desert  of  JucUua,  the  solemn  waters 
of  the  Dead  Sea,  the  eternal  Presence  that  fills  the  solitudes  of 
nature,  the  sins,  the  shame,  the  vows,  the  hopes,  the  professions  of 
his  countrymen." 

T[  Over  against  the  Baptist's  desert  and  cave  stands  a  contrasted 
landscape  as  attractive  as  the  desert  is  repellent.  It  is  the  land 
scape  of  this  natural  human  life,  the  life  which  the  hand  of  God 
made  when  He  made  the  earth  and  the  creatures,  and  then  made 
man  after  His  own  image  and  breathed  into  his  clay  the  breath  of 
life,  and  bade  him  dwell  on  the  earth  and  eat  its  fruits  and  have 
dominion  over  all  its  living  kinds.  The  life  of  man,  even  as  we 
know  it,  strangely  marred  by  some  malign  influence  in  things 
that  make  for  famine,  and  mischance,  and  pain,  and  strife,  even  so 
has  much  of  beauty  and  delight  and  interest  in  it.  Are  we  not 
to  enjoy  this  charm  and  joy  ?  Did  not  God  who  made  it  look  on 
it,  and  behold  it  was  very  good  ?  Why  indeed  was  human  life, 
with  its  activities,  concerns,  and  pleasures  created  at  all  if  it  was 
not  to  be  lived,  and  lived  at  the  best  and  fullest  ?  Is  it  not  to 
the  glory  of  God  that  we  men  should  exercise  all  our  powers  of 
body,  although  to  exercise  be  also  to  enjoy ;  that  we  should  taste 
all  the  savours  of  this  earthly  existence,  perceive  with  eye  and  ear 
its  beauty  and  its  music ;  that  we  should  let  the  mind  range  and 
the  passion  play,  and  not  be  scared  from  using  these  energies  just 
because  in  them  there  is  delight  ?  We  look  on  this  landscape  of 
the  smiling  human  life,  and  the  Baptist's  desert  and  cave  wear 
a  most  grim,  squalid,  repulsive  look,  and  we  cannot  believe  God 
meant  these  places  for  the  residence  of  the  human  spirit,  or 
designed  that  narrowed,  starved  existence  of  the  ascetic  for  the 
life  of  His  children.1 

3.  With  his  principles  fixed  by  long  meditation,  John  came 
forth  among  men  (as  our  Lord  said),  not  a  reed  shaken  with  the 
wind,  swayed  this  way  or  that  by  the  opinions  of  others,  but  firm, 
even  if  he  should  be  solitary,  in  his  own  opinions ;  not  clothed  in 
soft  raiment,  but  a  protest  against  the  luxuriousness  that  ever 
threatens  to  smother  our  life,  and  a  proclamation  that  a  man's  life 
consists  not  in  the  abundance  of  the  things  which  he  possesseth 
— one  who,  both  by  his  appearance  and  by  his  words,  drew  men 
away  from  conventionalities  to  what  was  real  and  abiding  in 
human  life. 

1  J.  H.  Skrine,  Saints  and  Worthies,  47. 


JOHN  AND  THE  JEWS  63 

His  appearance  must  have  been  very  striking.  His  hair  was 
long  and  unkempt,  and  his  features  were  tanned  with  the  sun 
and  the  air  of  the  desert.  Probably  they  were  thinned,  too,  by 
austerity ;  for  his  habitual  food  was  of  the  simplest  order,  consist 
ing  only  of  locusts  and  wild  honey.  Locusts,  dried  and  preserved, 
form  still,  at  the  present  day,  an  article  of  food  in  the  East,  but 
only  among  the  very  poor;  people  in  the  least  degree  luxurious 
or  scrupulous  would  not  look  at  it.  Wild  honey,  formed  by  hives 
of  bees  in  the  crevices  of  rocks  or  in  rifted  trees,  abounds  in  the 
desert-places  of  Palestine,  and  may  be  gathered  by  anyone  who 
wanders  there.  The  raiment  of  the  Baptist  corresponded  with  his 
food,  consisting  of  a  garment  of  the  very  coarsest  and  cheapest 
cloth,  made  of  camel's  hair.  The  girdle  of  the  Oriental  is  an 
article  of  clothing  on  which  a  great  deal  of  taste  and  expense  is 
laid  out,  being  frequently  of  fine  material  and  gay  colouring,  with 
the  added  adornment  of  elaborate  needlework  ;  but  the  girdle  with 
which  John's  garment  was  confined  was  no  more  than  a  rough 
baud  of  leather.  Everything,  in  short,  about  his  external  appear 
ance  denoted  one  who  had  reduced  the  claims  of  the  body  to  tl« 
lowest  possible  terms,  that  he  might  devote  himself  entirely  to 
the  life  of  the  spirit. 

Tf  Some  preachers  derive  a  certain  amount  of  influence  from 
the  impression  made  by  their  personal  appearance.  When,  as  in 
the  case  of  Chalmers,  on  the  broad  and  ample  forehead  there  rests 
the  air  of  philosophic  thought,  and  in  the  liquid  eye  there  shines 
the  sympathy  of  a  benevolent  nature,  the  goodwill  of  the  con 
gregation  is  conciliated  before  the  word  is  uttered.  Still  more 
fascinating  is  the  impression  when,  as  in  the  case  of  Newman, 
the  stern  and  emaciated  figure  suggests  the  secret  fasts  and 
midnight  vigils  of  one  who  dwells  in  a  hidden  world,  out  of 
which  he  conies  with  a  Divine  message  to  his  followers.1 

4.  The  long  silence  of  the  desert  was  broken  by  a  ringing  call 
of  no  uncertain  sound,  the  call  of  one  sure  of  his  message,  and 
burning  to  deliver  it.  We  can  see  the  tall,  gaunt  figure  of  the 
roughly-clad  recluse  entering  one  of  the  scattered  hamlets  of  the 
borderland,  standing  like  an  apparition  as  he  cried  out  the  short, 
sharp  sentence  which  pierced  each  of  its  quiet  homes,  and  pene 
trated  every  heart  that  heard  it — "  Repent !  the  kingdom  of 

1  J.  Stalker,  The  Two  St.  Johns,  204. 


64  JOHN  THE  BAPTIST 

heaven  is  at  hand  ! "  We  can  see  the  groups  of  people  too,  children 
in  the  foreground,  flocking  round  liim  wonderingly.  To  them  he 
is  a  new  embodiment  of  the  Law  and  the  Prophets.  His  "  Repent ! " 
is  an  appeal  to  the  former,  a  demand  for  a  moral  "  baring  "  until 
the  bed-rock  is  reached  upon  which  Jehovah  can  build ;  while  his 
statement  that  "the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  at  hand"  is  a  re- 
affirmation  of  old  and  cherished  prophecies. 

(1)  "  Repentance  "  is  perhaps  not  the  best  rendering  of  the  first 
note  of  John's  message  ;  "  conversion  "  would  be  a  more  literal  trans 
lation.     It  was  for  an  entire  change  in  the  habits  of  thought  and 
conduct  that  John  called ;  and  this  change  included  not  only  the 
forsaking  of  sin  but  the  seeking  of  God.     Still,  the  forsaking  of  sin 
was  very  prominent  in   John's  demands ;   for  we   are  told  how 
pointedly  he  referred  to  the  favourite  sins  of  different  classes. 

Nor  has  repentance  in  the  mind  of  John  to  do  only  with 
the  past,  as  his  anticipations  of  the  New  Kingdom  are  conversant 
with  the  future.  No :  his  preaching  of  repentance  has  to  do  with 
the  future,  and  is  full  of  animation  and  brightness,  from  the  sight 
he  has  of  the  coming  of  Jesus  Christ.  Repentance  with  him 
means  the  personal  equipment  of  the  man  for  taking  his  part  in 
the  construction  of  this  New  Kingdom. 

Also  of  John  a  calling  and  a  crying 

Rang  in  Bethabara  till  strength  was  spent, 

Cared  not  for  counsel,  stayed  not  for  replying, 
John  had  one  message  for  the  world,  Repent. 

John,  than  which  man  a  sadder  or  a  greater 
Not  till  this  day  has  been  of  woman  born, 

John  like  some  iron  peak  by  the  Creator 

Fired  with  the  red  glow  of  the  rushing  morn. 

This  when  the  sun  shall  rise  and  overcome  it 
Stands  in  his  shining  desolate  and  bare, 

Yet  not  the  less  the  inexorable  summit 
Flamed  him  his  signal  to  the  happier  air.1 

(2)  The  other  note  of  John's  preaching  was  the  Kingdom  of 
God.     This  was  not  a  novel  watchword.     The  ideal  of  the  Jews 
had  always  been  a  theocracy.     When  Saul,  their  first  king,  was 

1  F.  W.  H.  Myers,  Saint  Pent. 


JOHN  AND  THE  JEWS  65 

appointed,  the  prophet  Samuel  condemned  the  act  of  the  people 
as  a  lapse:  they  ought  to  have  desired  no  king  but  God.  And 
when,  in  subsequent  ages,  the  kings  of  the  land  with  rare  excep 
tions  turned  out  miserable  failures,  the  better  and  deeper  spirits 
always  sighed  for  a  reign  of  God,  which  would  ensure  national 
prosperity.  The  deeper  the  nation  sank,  the  more  passionate  grew 
this  aspiration ;  and,  when  the  good  time  coming  was  thought  of, 
it  was  always  in  the  form  of  a  Kingdom  of  God. 

Alongside  the  proclamation  of  the  Kingdom  was  the  uncom 
promising  insistence  on  "  tlie  wrath  to  come."  John  saw  that  the 
advent  of  the  King  would  bring  inevitable  suffering  to  those  who 
were  living  in  self-indulgence  and  sin.  There  would  be  careful 
discrimination.  He  who  was  coming  would  carefully  discern 
between  the  righteous  and  the  wicked  ;  between  those  who  served 
God  and  those  who  served  Him  not ;  and  the  preacher  enforced 
his  words  by  an  image  familiar  to  Orientals.  When  the  wheat 
is  reaped,  it  is  bound  in  sheaves  and  carted  to  the  threshing-floor, 
which  is  generally  a  circular  spot  of  hard  ground  from  fifty  to  one 
hundred  feet  in  diameter.  On  this  the  wheat  is  threshed  from 
the  chaff  by  manual  labour,  but  the  two  lie  intermingled  till  the 
evening,  when  the  grain  is  caught  up  in  broad  shovels  or  fans,  and 
thrown  against  the  evening  breeze,  as  it  passes  swiftly  over  the 
fevered  land ;  thus  the  chaff  is  borne  away,  while  the  wheat  falls 
heavily  to  the  earth.  Likewise,  cried  the  Baptist,  there  shall  be  a 
very  careful  process  of  discrimination  before  the  unquenchable 
fires  are  lighted,  so  that  none  but  chaff  shall  be  consigned  to  the 
flames — a  prediction  which  was  faithfully  fulfilled. 

^|  In  considering  the  wrath  of  God  as  always  and  at  all  times 
working  with  His  love,  the  preaching  of  John  the  Baptist  is  a 
great  assistance.  The  Jews,  even  in  their  most  degenerate  times, 
seem  to  have  never  doubted  that  all  the  tribulation  which  as  a 
nation  they  had  ever  borne  was  part  of  that  special  care  and 
government  of  God  of  which  they  were  so  justly  proud.  They 
acknowledged,  not  without  awe  and  reverence,  that  a  wrath  to 
come  was  essentially  bound  up  with  their  best  hopes  and  their 
highest  aspirations.  They  were  to  pass,  as  a  people,  through 
great  Buffering  into  noblest  exaltation.  We,  under  the  Christian 
dispensation,  have  throughout  our  history  greatly  lost  by  inade 
quately  reali/.ing  that  same  conception.  In  reganl  both  of  our 
individual  and  of  our  national  life,  we  have  even  more  reason  than 
MARY-SIMON — 5 


66  JOHN  THE  BAPTIST 

the  Jews  ever  had  to  look  upon  Divine  wrath  as  only  the  sterner 
and  more  solemn  aspect  of  Divine  love.  "  The  wrath  of  God 
which  is  revealed  from  heaven  against  all  ungodliness  and  un 
righteousness  of  men"  (Rom.  i.  18)  is  a  principal  means  whereby, 
in  time  or  eternity,  to  bring  sinners  back  to  Him,  and  to  prepare 
the  way  for  the  fulness  of  the  Kingdom.1 

5.  His  words  rang  like  peals  of  thunder  over  the  mountains  and 
reverberated  down  the  wadys  to  the  Dead  Sea.  They  echo  yet 
through  the  centuries,  the  words  of  this  Voice  in  the  Wilderness. 
It  was  mighty  preaching  that  smote  the  hearts  of  men.  Some 
were  superficial,  as  always,  and  the  words  passed  over  their  heads. 
Others  had  only  a  secular  notion  of  the  Kingdom,  and  began  to 
dream  of  place  and  power  in  that  Kingdom.  The  self-indulgent 
began  to  hope  for  change,  for  a  new  king  who  would  destroy  the 
Law  and  the  prophets.  The  poor  and  downtrodden  would  hope 
for  better  times  somehow.  But  the  devout  and  deeply  spiritual 
were  stirred  to  the  very  heart.  Men  and  women  talked  religion 
under  the  trees,  by  the  river  brink,  on  the  rocks  of  the  desert,  by 
the  roadside,  at  home.  A  new  day  had  come  to  Israel ;  a  real 
preacher  of  righteousness  had  spoken  again. 

^J  True  preaching  struggles  right  away  from  formula,  back  into 
fact,  and  life,  and  the  revelation  of  God  and  heaven.  I  make  no 
objection  to  formulas ;  they  are  good  enough  in  their  place,  and  a 
certain  instinct  of  our  nature  is  comforted  in  having  some  articula 
tions  of  results  thought  out  to  which  our  minds  may  refer. 
Formulas  are  the  jerked  meat  of  salvation — if  not  always  the  strong 
meat,  as  many  try  to  think — dry  and  portable  and  good  to  keep, 
and  when  duly  seethed  and  softened,  and  served  with  needful 
condiments,  just  possible  to  be  eaten ;  but  for  the  matter  of 
living,  we  really  want  something  fresher  and  more  nutritious.  On 
the  whole,  the  kind  of  thinking  talent  wanted  for  a  great  preacher 
is  that  which  piercingly  loves  ;  that  which  looks  into  things  and 
through  them,  ploughing  up  pearls  and  ores,  and  now  and  then  a 
diamond.  It  will  not  seem  to  go  on  metaphysically  or  scientific 
ally,  but  with  a  certain  roundabout  sense  and  vigour.  And  the 
people  will  be  gathered  to  it  because  there  is  a  gospel  fire  burning 
in  it  that  warms  them  to  a  glow.  This  is  power.2 

(1)  "  Many  of  the  Pharisees  and  Sadducees  "  came.  These 
two  religious  parties  disliked  one  another  very  much,  but  they 

1  C.  J.  Abbey,  The  Divine  Love,  17. 
8  Horace  Bushnell,  Pulpit  Talent,  187. 


JOHN  AND  THE  JEWS  67 

are  both  deserving  of  John's  condemnation.  They  will  later  be 
found  working  hand  in  hand  to  compass  the  death  of  Jesus.  For 
the  moment  they  bury  their  theological  differences  and  rivalry  for 
place  and  power  in  the  common  curiosity  about  John.  By  their 
distinctive  dress,  their  separateness  from  the  multitude  among 
whom  they  slowly  moved  ;  by  the  superiority  of  their  demeanour, 
and  by  that  air  of  refinement  which  can  come  only  from  culture, 
although  the  culture  may  be  narrow  both  in  base  and  super 
structure,  the  penetrative  eye  of  John  singled  them  out.  Like  the 
Master  who  came  after  him,  he  employs  terms  that  are  hot  and 
scathing.  "  0  offspring  of  vipers, — 0  viperous  brood, — who  hath 
warned  you  to  flee  from  the  coming  wrath  ? "  It  was  bitterly,  it- 
was  uncourtly, — but  oh,  it  was  truly  said !  They  were  the  off 
spring  of  vipers,  for  often  had  their  fathers  stung  to  death  the 
benefactors,  the  saviours,  sent  from  heaven  to  save  the  nation : 
and  soon  were  the  children  to  show  themselves  born  in  the  like 
ness  of  their  sires,  by  stinging  with  persecution  and  death  that 
greater  One  whose  shoe-latchet  he  was  not  worthy  to  unloose. 

(2)  While    John    has    been    anathematizing    Pharisees    and 
Sadducees,  various  questions  have  been  rising  in  various  minds  as 
to  the  bearing  of  the  Kingdom  upon  themselves,  and  what  manner 
of  men  they  ought  to  be  to  enter  into  it.     Did  they  also  come 
under  the  lash  ?     "  And  the  multitudes  asked  him,  saying,  What 
then  must  we  do?"     John's  answer  is  plain,  direct,  and  pointed: 
"  He  that  hath  two  coats,  let  him  impart  to  him  that  hath  none ; 
and  he  that  hath  food,  let  him  do  likewise." 

(3)  Then  the  publicans  come  with  their  question :  "Teacher, 
what  shall  we  do  ? " — by  no  means  an  idle  question,  put  for  the 
sake  of  hearing  what  kind  of  an  answer  the  prophet  will  make  in 
reply,  but  one  that  had  behind  it  the  sincere  purpose  of  entering 
the  Kingdom,  for  they  came  "  to  be  baptized."     John's  reply  to 
their  question  was  not  a  summons  to  Temple  service  or  sacrifice, 
nor  was  it  ascetic  or  revolutionary  in  its  tone.     "  Exact,"  said  he, 
"  no  more  than  is  appointed  you."      Extortion   was    the   fierce 
temptation   of   the   class.      It  would    have   been  easier  for  the 
publicans  to  keep  all  the  ritual  than  radically  to  change  the  whole 
spirit  of   their  lives.     He  tested  sincerity  in  a  manner  at  once 
definite   and    practical.      His   answer    involved    no    doctrine    of 
human    brotherhood  or  Divine  Fatherhood  ;   it  was  a  dogmatic 


68  JOHN  THE  BAPTIST 

appeal  to  the  conscience  of  men  who  had  laid  their  ethical  sense 
to  sleep.  So  they  received  their  answer — one  so  complete  and 
self-evident  that  from  it  there  was  no  appeal. 

(4)  Then  came  the  soldiers.  Apparently  careless,  but  alert, 
they  move  about  in  small  groups  among  the  people,  and,  coming 
near  the  prophet,  break  a  lance  with  him :  "  And  what  shall 
we  do  ? "  His  reply  is  personal,  not  national.  The  careless 
soldiers  must  have  been  surprised  at  its  pointedness.  Its  three 
parts  were  short,  sharp  home-thrusts — "  Do  not  extort  money  by 
threats  or  violence  from  any  man."  It  was  not  easy  for  quiet 
civilians  to  resist  the  demands,  although  unjust,  of  trained  soldiers, 
strong  in  physique,  and  without  effeminate  pity  for  those  from 
whom  money  might  be  extracted.  Mercy,  consideration  for 
such,  had  but  small  weight  with  them.  "  Do  not  cheat  by  false 
accusation  ;  be  too  honest  to  act  as  mere  informers  ;  do  not  bleed 
people's  purses  by  threatening  to  lay  fictitious  charges."  On  the 
other  hand,  "  Be  content  with  your  pay,  and  as  you  agreed  to  it, 
when  you  went  into  the  service,  let  it  serve  you." 

This  was  the  style  of  John's  preaching.  However  various  the 
classes  of  people  or  the  types  of  character,  his  "  exhortation  "  took 
them  back  to  righteousness  of  conduct,  to  the  first  principles 
of  ordinary  morality.  There  was  with  him  no  slight  or  hasty 
dealing  with  sin ;  he  required  evidences  of  reform  in  character,  in 
"  good  works." 

H  It  was  a  solemn  scene,  doubtless,  when  crowds  from  every 
part  of  Palestine  gathered  by  the  side  of  Jordan,  and  there 
renewed,  as  it  were,  the  covenant  made  between  their  ancestor 
and  Jehovah.  It  seemed  the  beginning  of  a  new  age,  the  restora 
tion  of  the  ancient  theocracy,  the  final  close  of  that  dismal  period 
in  which  the  race  had  lost  its  peculiarity,  had  taken  a  varnish  of 
Greek  manners,  and  had  contributed  nothing  but  a  few  dull 
chapters  of  profane  history,  filled  with  the  usual  chaos  of  faction 
fights,  usurpations,  royal  crimes,  and  outbreaks,  blind  and  brave, 
of  patriotism  and  the  love  of  liberty.  But  many  of  those  who 
witnessed  the  scene  and  shared  in  the  enthusiasm  which  it 
awakened  must  have  remembered  it  in  later  days  as  having 
inspired  hopes  which  had  not  been  realized.  It  must  have  seemed 
to  many  that  the  theocracy  had  not  in  fact  been  restored,  that  the 
old  routine  had  been  interrupted  only  for  a  moment,  that  the 
baptized  nation  had  speedily  contracted  new  pollution,  and  that 


JOHN  AND  THE  JEWS  69 

no  deliverance  had  been  wrought  from  the  "wrath  to  come." 
And  they  may  have  asked  in  doubt,  Is  God  so  little  parsimonious 
of  His  noblest  gift  as  to  waste  upon  a  doomed  generation  that 
which  He  did  not  vouchsafe  to  many  nobler  generations  that  had 
preceded  them,  and  to  send  a  second  and  far  greater  Elijah  to 
prophesy  in  vain  ? 

But  if  there  were  such  persons,  they  were  ignorant  of  one 
important  fact.  John  the  Baptist  was  like  the  Emperor  Nerva. 
In  his  career  it  was  given  him  to  do  two  things — to  inaugurate  a 
new  regime,  and  also  to  nominate  a  successor  who  was  far  greater 
than  himself.  And  by  this  successor  his  work  was  taken  up, 
developed,  completed,  and  made  permanent;  so  that,  however 
John  may  have  seemed  to  his  own  generation  to  have  lived  in 
vain,  and  scenes  on  the  banks  of  Jordan  to  have  been  the  delusive 
promise  of  a  future  that  was  never  to  be,  at  the  distance  of  near 
two  thousand  years  he  appears  not  less  but  far  greater  than  he 
appeared  to  his  contemporaries,  and  all  that  his  baptism  promised 
to  do  appears  utterly  insignificant  compared  with  what  it  has 
actually  done.1 

6.  The  prophets  of  Israel  were  poets  as  well  as  preachers ;  and 
one  way  in  which  they  displayed  their  poetical  endowment  was 
by  the  invention  of  physical  symbols  to  represent  the  truths  which 
they  also  expressed  in  words.  Thus,  it  will  be  remembered, 
Jeremiah  at  one  period  went  about  Jerusalem  wearing  a  yoke 
on  his  shoulders,  in  order  to  impress  on  his  fellow-citizens  the 
certainty  that  they  were  to  become  subject  to  the  Babylonian 
power;  and  similar  symbolical  actions  of  other  prophets  will  occur 
to  every  Bible  reader.  In  the  Baptist,  ancient  prophecy,  after 
centuries  of  silence,  had  come  to  life  again ;  and  he  demonstrated 
that  he  was  the  true  heir  of  men  like  Isaiah  and  Jeremiah  by  the 
exercise  also  of  this  poetical  gift.  He  embodied  his  teaching  not 
only  in  words  but  in  an  expressive  symbol.  And  never  was 
symbol  more  felicitously  chosen  ;  for  baptism  exactly  expressed 
the  main  drift  of  his  teaching. 

It  has  been  well  established,  in  the  light  of  modern  research, 
that  John  was  by  no  means  the  originator  of  the  rite  of  baptism, 
which  has  its  counterparts  in  the  Greek  mysteries,  in  the  religions 
of  India,  Persia,  Egypt,  Asia  Minor.  The  washing  of  the  body 
with  running  water  expressed  by  a  natural  symbolism  that 
cleansing  from  inward  defilement  without  which  there  could  be 

1  J    U.  S«i;ley,  t-lcce  Uoino,  cLap.  i. 


70  JOHN  THE  BAPTIST 

no  access  to  the  Divine  Presence.  Judaism  itself  affords  several 
analogies  to  the  rite  of  baptism.  We  need  instance  only  the 
lustrations  demanded  by  the  Mosaic  law,  the  ceremonial  washings 
of  the  Essenes,  the  purification  by  water  which  was  part  of  the 
ritual  employed  in  the  admission  of  proselytes. 

It  is  more  than  probable  that  John  ascribed  a  real  validity  to 
his  baptism,  apart  from  its  symbolic  meaning.  He  undoubtedly 
sought,  in  the  first  instance,  to  effect  a  moral  change,  and  adminis 
tered  the  rite  only  to  those  who  professed  repentance;  yet  the 
inward  process  required  to  be  completed  and  sealed  by  the  visible 
rite.  When  baptism  meets  us  later  in  the  New  Testament,  as  an 
ordinance  of  the  Christian  Church,  we  find  even  Paul  describing 
it  as  a  mystery,  by  which  the  Spirit  is,  in  some  actual  sense, 
imparted.  He  assumes  that  this  view  is  shared,  in  still  larger 
measure,  by  those  whom  he  addresses;  and  it  probably  had 
attached  itself  to  the  rite  from  the  beginning.  Ancient  religion 
made  little  attempt  to  discriminate  between  a  symbol  and  its 
spiritual  content.  Just  as  the  spoken  word  was  vaguely  identified 
with  the  person  or  thing  that  it  designated,  so  the  outward  sign 
was  confused  with  the  reality,  and  was  supposed  to  carry  with  it  a 
religious  worth  and  power.  That  a  value  of  this  nature  was  gener 
ally  attributed  to  John's  baptism  may  be  inferred  from  the  question 
with  which  Jesus,  at  a  later  day,  silenced  the  priests  and  elders : 
"  The  baptism  of  John,  was  it  from  heaven  or  of  men  ? "  The 
question,  it  will  be  observed,  refers  to  the  baptism,  not  merely  to 
the  religious  teaching,  of  John.  It  would  have  been  meaningless 
if  John  had  claimed  to  be  nothing  more  than  a  preacher  of 
righteousness,  enforcing  by  symbol  what  he  had  taught  in  words. 
But  he  had  offered  his  baptism  as  an  actual  means  of  obtaining  a 
certain  grace  from  God ;  and  hence  a  controversy  had  arisen  as 
to  his  sanction  and  authority. 

H  Baptism,  when  administered  to  an  adult,  is  a  visible  assur 
ance  of  the  same  great  blessings  that  it  assures  to  a  child.  It 
does  not  confer  on  him  the  blessings  of  the  Christian  redemption, 
but  declares  that  they  are  his.  It  is  a  wonderful  gospel — a  gospel 
to  him  individually.  If  he  has  genuine  faith  he  will  receive  it 
with  immeasurable  joy.  He  will  look  back  upon  the  day  of  his 
baptism  as  kings  look  back  upon  the  day  of  their  coronation. 
It  was  the  visible,  external  transition  from  awful  peril  to  eternal 


JOHN  AND  THE  JEWS  71 

safety  in  the  love  and  power  of  Christ.  It  divided  his  old  life  in 
sin  from  his  new  life  in  God.  He  will  speak  of  the  hour  when  he 
was  "  baptized  into  Christ "  (Gal.  iii.  27),  was  "  cleansed  by  the 
washing  of  water  with  the  word  "  (Eph.  v.  26),  was  "  buried  with 
[Christ]  in  baptism"  (Rom.  vi.  4;  Col.  ii.  12),  and  was  "raised 
with  him  through  faith  in  the  working  of  God,  who  raised  him 
from  the  dead"  (Col.  ii.  12).  But  kings  are  not  made  kings  by 
being  crowned ;  they  are  crowned  because  they  are  already  kings : 
their  coronation  is  only  the  assurance  that  the  power  and  great 
ness  of  sovereignty  are  theirs.  And  it  is  not  by  baptism  that  we 
are  made  Christ's  inheritance ;  it  is  because  we  are  Christ's 
inheritance  that  we  are  baptized.1 

I  think,  perhaps,  this  trust  has  sprung 

From  one  short  word 
Said  over  me  when  I  was  young, — 

So  young,  I  heard 

It,  knowing  not  that  God's  name  signed 
My  brow,  and  sealed  me  His,  though  blind.8 
1  The  Lift  of  R.  W.  Dale,  362.  »  H.  H.  Jackson. 


JOHN   THE   BAPTIST, 

II. 

JOHN  AND  JESUS. 


•i 


LITERATURE. 

Andrews,  S.  J.,  The  Life  of  Our  Lord  (1892),  215. 

Blakiston,  A.,  John  Baptist  and  his  Relation  to  Jesus  (1912). 

Brooke,  S.  A.,  Sermons  Preached  in  St.  James's  Chapel,  i.  (1873)  148. 

Gumming,  J.  E.,  John :  The  Baptist,  Forerunner,  and  Martyr. 

Davidson,  A.  B.,  The  Called  of  God  (1902),  229. 

Dawson,  W.  J.,  Tfie  Man  Christ  Jesus  (1901),  29. 

Edersheim,  A.,  The  Life  and  Times  of  Jesus  the  Messiah,  i.  (1887)  260, 

275. 

Farrar,  F.  W.,  The  Life  of  Christ  (1894),  272. 
Feather,  F.,  The  Last  of  the  Prophets  (1894). 
Ferguson,  F.,  A  Popular  Life  of  Christ  (1878),  79. 
Furse,  C.  W.,  The  Beauty  of  Holiness  (1903),  47. 
Higginson,  E.,  Ecce  Messias  (1871),  247. 
Hough,  L.  H.,  The  Men  of  the  Gospels  (1913),  7. 
La  Farge,  J.,  The  Gospel  Story  in  Art  (1913),  180. 
Lange,  J.  P.,  The  Life  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  ii.  (1864)  324. 
Lee,  F.  T.,  The  New  Testament  Period  and  its  Leaders  (1913),  56. 
Meyer,  F.  B.,  John  the  Baptist  (1911). 
Moberly,  R.  C.,  Christ  Our  Life  (1902),  106. 
Neander,  A.,  The  Life  of  Jesus  Christ  (1880),  213. 

Reuss,  E.,  History  of  Christian  Theology  in  the  Apostolic  Aye,  i.  (1872)  1 19. 
Reynolds,  H.  R.,  John  the  Baptist  (1872). 
Robertson,  A.  T.,  John  the  Loyal  (1912). 
Scott,  E.  F.,  The  Kingdom  and  the  Messiah  (1911),  58. 
Selwyn,  E.  C.,  The  Oracles  in  the  New  Testament  (1912),  179. 
Simpson,  W.  J.  S.,  The  Prophet  of  the  Highest  (1895). 
Stalker,  J.,  The  Two  St.  Johns  (1895),  189. 
Taylor,  W.  M.,  The  Silence  of  Jesus  (1894),  17. 
Vaughan,  D.  J.,  The  Present  Trial  of  Faith  (1878),  358. 
Whyte,  A.,  Bible  Characters  :  Joseph  and  Mary  to  James  (1900),  26. 
Baptist  Review  and  Expositor,  xi.  (1914)  41  (W.  Lock). 
Catholic  Encyclopedia,  viii.  (1910)  486  (G.  L.  Souvay). 
Dictionary  of  the  Bible,  ii.  (1899)  677  (LI.  J.  M.  Bebb). 

„       (Single-volume,  1909),  474  (J.  G.  Talker). 
Dictionary  of  Christ  and  the  Gospels,  i.  (1906)  861  (J.  C.  Lambert). 
Encyclopaedia  Biblica,  ii.  (1900),  col.  2498  (T.  K.  Cheyne). 
Expository  Times,  xii.  (1901)  312  (J.  Reid);  xv.  (1904)5;  xviii.  (1906) 

193  (R.  H.  Kennett). 
Lay  Sermons  from  the  Spectator  (1909),  8. 
Smith's  Dictionary  of  the  Bible,  i.  (1893)  1736  (E.  Hawkins). 


JOHN  AND  JESUS. 

And  this  is  the  witness  of  John,  when  the  Jews  sent  unto  him  from 
Jerusalem  priests  and  Levites  to  ask  him,  Who  art  thou  ?  And  he  confessed, 
and  denied  not ;  and  he  confessed,  I  am  not  the  Christ.  And  they  asked 
him,  What  then  ?  Art  thou  Elijah  ?  And  he  saith,  I  am  not.  Art  thou  the 
prophet  ?  And  he  answered,  No.  They  said  therefore  unto  him,  Who  art 
thou  ?  that  we  may  give  an  answer  to  them  that  sent  us.  What  sayest  thou 
of  thyself  ?  He  said,  I  am  the  voice  of  one  crying  in  the  wilderness,  Make 
straight  the  way  of  the  Lord,  as  said  Isaiah  the  prophet. — John  i.  19^23. 

1.  FROM  ancient  times  it  has  been  the  custom  with  Oriental 
monarchs,  when  about  to  travel  through  any  part  of  their 
dominions,  to  send  heralds  before  them  to  announce  their  coming 
and  to  see  that  the  roadways  over  which  they  were  to  pass  were 
in  order.  All  obstacles  had  to  be  removed,  and  rough  places 
made  smooth.  If  no  roadway  existed,  one  had  to  be  made,  even 
if  it  required  the  filling  of  valleys  and  the  levelling  of  hills  and 
mountains.  In  this  way  an  easy  and  pleasant  highway  was 
provided  for  the  royal  travellers.  This  custom  is  alluded  to  in 
Is.  xl.  3,  4 :  "  The  voice  of  one  that  crieth,  Prepare  ye  in  the 
wilderness  the  way  of  Jehovah  ;  make  level  in  the  desert  a  high 
way  for  our  God.  Every  valley  shall  be  exalted,  and  every 
mountain  and  hill  shall  be  made  low ;  and  the  uneven  shall  be 
made  level,  and  the  rough  places  a  plain."  In  the  New  Testament 
this  passage  is  applied  to  John  the  Baptist  as  the  herald  or 
forerunner  of  the  Messiah. 

John  himself  originated  the  idea  that  he  was  the  forerunner  of 
the  Messiah,  the  voice  crying  in  the  wilderness,  for  he  quoted  Is. 
xL  3  to  the  embassy  from  Jerusalem,  and  applied  it  to  himself. 
It  is  possible  that  in  Matt.  iii.  3  also  we  have  the  language  of 
John,  but  it  is  more  probable  that  it  is  that  of  the  Evangelist.  All 
four  Gospels  thus  bear  witness  to  this  "  primitive  interpretation  " 
that  John  is  the  forerunner  described  by  Isaiah. 

(1)  We  know  that  the  Jewish  people  as  a  whole  were    not 


76  JOHN  THE  BAPTIST 

prepared  to  receive  Jesus  as  their  Saviour;  for  they  rejected  and 
crucitied  Him.  Still,  much  was  done  by  the  testimony  of  John. 
At  the  very  last,  when  the  enmity  of  the  scribes  and  Pharisees 
was  at  its  highest,  we  find  they  dared  not  insinuate  that  the 
baptism  of  John  was  not  from  heaven  but  of  men, — because  all 
the  people  held  John  for  a  prophet.  Now  what  a  vast  advantage 
it  must  have  given  the  early  preachers  of  the  gospel,  to  have  had 
to  do  with  a  people  who  held  John  for  a  prophet !  For  John's 
testimony  to  Jesus  was  matter  of  notoriety.  Our  Lord  appeals  to 
it,  in  the  face  of  the  Jews  themselves.  How  easy  to  lead  on  any 
candid  mind  from  belief  in  John  to  belief  in  Jesus  !  And  conse 
quently  we  find,  when  the  Church  assembled  to  fill  up  the  place 
of  the  traitor  Judas,  St.  Peter  specifying,  as  the  qualification  of  a 
candidate  for  the  Apostleship,  that  he  must  have  companied  with 
them  all  the  time  that  the  Lord  Jesus  went  in  and  out  among 
them,  "  beginning  from  the  baptism  of  John."  Again,  in  the  only 
detailed  sermon  of  St.  Paul  to  Jews  in  their  synagogue,  we  have 
him  distinctly  appealing  to  the  testimony  of  John  among  the 
proofs  of  the  Messiahship  of  our  Lord. 

(2)  And  if  John  thus  prepared  the  way  by  witnessing  to  Jesus 
in  person,  he  also  prepared  many  of  the  children  of  Israel  in  spirit 
to  receive  the  message  of  life  by  Him.  In  such  an  age  of  worldli- 
ness  and  hypocrisy,  to  hear  "  there  is  a  prophet  among  us,"  to  see 
once  more  the  garb  of  Elijah  in  the  desert,  to  hear  once  more 
that  voice,  clear  as  when  it  rang  among  the  cliffs  of  Carmel,  "  How 
long  halt  ye  between  two  opinions  ? " — that  must  have  gone  into  the 
depths  of  many  a  heart  in  Israel,  and  called  up  again  the  almost 
forgotten  presence  of  Israel's  covenant  God.  And  then,  when 
they  stood  and  listened  to  the  wonderful  messenger  of  repentance, 
how  the  words  of  their  old  prophets,  long  wrapped  in  the  napkin 
of  formalism,  and  heard  muffled  through  the  drawl  of  the  scribe 
in  the  synagogue,  must  have  leapt  out  into  life,  and  gone  right  to 
their  hearts ! 

And  again,  when,  confessing  their  sins,  they  were  baptized 
by  John  in  Jordan,  must  we  not  believe  that  many  of  those 
thousands  who  received  the  outward  rite  became  deeply  humbled 
within  ?  that  many  reeds  were  bruised,  whom  the  Redeemer  came 
not  to  break  but  to  heal  ?  And  if  John  was  made  the  discloser  of 
pain  that  he  could  not  assuage,  the  discoverer  of  burdens  that 


JOHN   AND  JESUS  77 

he  could  not  remove,  for  whom  was  this  a  preparation  but  for 
Him  who  cried,  "  Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  labour  and  are  heavy 
laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest "  ? 

^|  John  the  Baptist  is  the  supreme  example  of  a  general  law  ; 
of  the  fact  that  all  great  changes  in  the  worlds  of  spirit  and  of 
thought  have  their  forerunners ;  minds  which  perceive  the  first 
significant  movement,  the  sword  of  the  spirit  stirring  in  its  sheath, 
long  before  the  new  direction  is  generally  perceived  or  understood. 
John  was  a  "  prophet " — that  is  to  say,  a  spiritual  genius — with 
that  intuitive  knowledge  of  the  immediate  tendencies  of  life  often 
found  in  those  who  are  possessed  of  an  instinct  for  Transcendent 
Reality.  The  span  of  a  great  mind,  a  great  personality,  gathers 
up  into  its  "Now,"  and  experiences  "all  at  once,"  a  number  of 
smaller  rhythms  or  moments  which  are  separate  experiences  for 
lesser  men.  As  we,  in  our  wide  rhythm  of  perception,  gather  up 
the  countless  small  and  swift  vibrations  of  the  physical  world  and 
weld  them  into  sound  or  light ;  so  the  spiritual  genius  gathers  up 
into  his  consciousness  of  a  wide  present,  countless  little  tendencies 
and  events.  By  this  synthetic  act  he  transcends  the  storm  of 
succession,  and  attains  a  prophetic  vision,  which  seems  to  embrace 
future  as  well  as  past.  He  is  plunged  in  the  stream  of  life,  and 
feels  the  way  in  which  it  tends  to  move.  Such  a  mind  discerns, 
though  he  may  not  understand,  the  coming  of  a  change  long  before 
it  can  be  known  by  other  men;  and,  trying  to  communicate  his 
certitude,  becomes  a  "  prophet  "  or  a  "  seer."  l 

2.  John  is  not  only  called  Christ's  forerunner;  he  is  also 
spoken  of  as  Elijah.  In  what  sense  was  he  Elijah?  Everything 
in  him  recalled  the  great  prophet  of  action.  Elijah  did  not  write 
a  single  page  in  the  Book  of  God ;  his  book  was  himself,  his 
prophecy  was  his  life ;  it  was  enough  for  him  to  appear,  to  call  up 
before  degenerate  Israel  the  living  image  of  holiness.  There  runs 
a  real  parallel  between  the  careers  of  the  two  men.  It  is  strik 
ingly  put  by  Edersheim.  "  John  came  suddenly  out  of  the  wilder 
ness  of  Judaea,  as  Elijah  from  the  wilds  of  Gilead.  John  bore  the 
same  ascetic  appearance  as  his  predecessor  ;  the  message  of  John  was 
the  counterpart  of  that  of  Elijah ;  his  baptism  that  of  Elijah's 
novel  rite  on  Carmel."  It  is  true  that  John  pointedly  disclaimed 
being  Elijah ;  but  what  he  denied  was  the  exaggerated  ex 
pectations  of  the  people,  not  the  real  promise  of  the  prophet. 
Indeed,  it  was  probably  some  word  of  John  about  this  very  matter 
1  K.  Uiiderhill.  The  Mystic  Way,  83. 


;8  JOHN  THE  BAPTIST 

that  had  led  the  Sanhedrin  to  make  this  inquiry,  a  word  which 
had  been  misunderstood  and  which  John  now  bluntly  corrects. 
Jesus  expressly  says  that  John  was  the  real  fulfilment  of  the 
prophecy,  he  was  the  Elijah  that  was  to  come ;  he  was  to  come  in 
the  spirit  and  power  of  Elijah,  as  Gabriel  had  said.  That  is  all 
that  ever  was  meant,  but  it  had  been  grossly  misunderstood  again. 

Tf  If  we  except  Moses,  who  was  the  real  founder  of  the  nation, 
there  is  no  man  in  Jewish  history  whose  fame  stands  so  high  as 
Elijah's.  What  story  is  there  so  thrilling,  so  impressive,  at  times 
so  overwhelmingly  dramatic,  as  the  story  of  this  Bedouin  of  the 
desert,  sweeping  down  in  fire  and  thunder  from  the  caves  of 
Carmel,  to  subdue  kings  and  terrify  a  whole  people  into  sub 
mission  by  the  force  of  a  single  imperious  will  ?  The  very  name 
of  Elijah  is  to  this  day  terrible  in  the  East;  never  was  there 
memory  so  potent  and  implacable.  The  manner  of  his  removal 
from  the  earth  added  to  the  superstitious  awe  which  clothed  his 
name.  He  was  believed  not  to  have  died  ;  to  have  vanished  from 
the  earth  only  to  halt  upon  some  dim  borderland  between  life  and 
death,  ready  to  reappear  at  any  time ;  to  have  become  a  super 
natural  man,  who  might  return,  and  assuredly  would  return  in 
his  chariot  of  flame,  when  some  great  national  crisis  called  for 
him.  Such  legends  are  common ;  they  are  associated  with  King 
Arthur,  and  even  with  Sir  Francis  Drake.  It  is  a  curious  testi 
mony  to  man's  inherent  conviction  of  immortality,  that  he  finds 
it  difficult  to  believe  that  a  great  hero  is  really  dead.  But  to  the 
Jew,  the  sense  of  Elijah's  real  presence  in  the  national  life,  his 
incompleted  work  upon  the  national  destiny,  was  not  so  much  a 
legend  as  a  creed.  It  was  an  impassioned  belief,  increasing  in 
vehemence  as  the  times  grew  darker.  The  deeper  the  despair  and 
impotence  of  the  nation  the  more  eager  became  the  hope  that 
Elijah  would  return.  He  would  surely  come  again  and  smite  the 
house  of  Herod  as  he  had  smitten  the  house  of  Ahab.  The  desert 
would  once  more  travail  in  strange  birth,  and  from  it  would 
come  the  redeeming  Titan.1 

Tf  From  the  time  that  the  Jewish  nation  had  begun  to  reflect 
upon  its  destiny  with  a  kind  of  despair,  the  imagination  of  the 
people  had  reverted  with  much  complacency  to  the  ancient 
prophets.  Now,  of  all  the  personages  of  the  past,  the  remem 
brance  of  whom  came  like  the  dreams  of  a  troubled  night  to 
awaken  and  agitate  the  people,  the  greatest  was  Elias.  This  giant 
of  the  prophets,  in  his  rough  solitude  of  Carmel,  sharing  the  life 
1  W.  J.  Dawson,  The  Man  Christ  Jesiu,  32. 


JOHN  AND  JESUS  79 

of  savage  beasts,  dwelling  in  the  hollows  of  the  rocks,  whence  he 
came  like  a  thunderbolt,  to  make  and  unmake  kings,  had  become, 
by  successive  transformations,  a  sort  of  superhuman  being,  some 
times  visible,  sometimes  invisible,  and  as  one  who  has  not  tasted 
death.  It  was  generally  believed  that  Elias  would  return  and 
restore  Israel.  The  austere  life  which  he  had  led,  the  terrible 
remembrances  he  had  left  behind  him, — the  impression  of  which 
is  still  powerful  in  the  East, — the  sombre  image  which,  even  in 
our  own  times,  causes  trembling  and  death, — all  this  .  .  .  vividly 
struck  the  mind  of  the  people,  and  stamped  as  with  a  birth-mark 
all  the  creations  of  the  popular  mind.  Whoever  aspired  to  act 
powerfully  upon  the  people  must  imitate  Elias;  and,  as  solitary 
life  had  been  the  essential  characteristic  of  this  prophet,  they  were 
accustomed  to  conceive  "  the  man  of  God  "  as  a  hermit.  They 
imagined  that  all  the  holy  personages  had  had  their  days  of 
penitence,  of  solitude,  and  of  austerity.  The  retreat  to  the 
desert  thus  became  the  condition  and  the  prelude  of  high 
destinies.1 


I. 

JOHN'S  BAPTISM  OF  JESUS. 

To  Jesus,  in  His  obscure  and  humble  home,  the  thrill  which 
passed  through  every  section  of  society  at  the  voice  of  the 
Baptist,  and  the  appearance  of  a  true  man  among  the  ignoble 
shadows  and  self-satisfied  hypocrisies,  came  as  a  sign  from  His 
Heavenly  Father  that  the  time  had  arrived  for  His  manifestation 
to  the  world.  For  now,  by  John's  work  as  an  avowed  fore 
runner,  the  long-slumbering  hope  was  aroused,  and  "  with  mighty 
billows  the  Messianic  movement  surged  through  the  entire 
people." 

In  going  to  listen  to  the  preaching  of  John,  our  Lord  doubt 
less  followed  that  inward  guidance  which  was  the  supreme  law 
of  His  life.  He  offered  Himself  for  baptism.  The  full  meaning 
of  this  act  is  beyond  our  apprehension.  The  baptism  of  John 
was  no  mere  Esseue  or  Levitical  ablution.  It  waa  accompanied 
with  the  confession  of  sins.  It  was  not  "a  laver  of  regenera 
tion  "  (Tit.  iii.  5),  but  "  a  baptism  of  repentance."  It  was  a 
sign  that  a  man  desired  to  cleanse  himself  from  nionil  defile- 
1  Renan,  Thf  Life  of  Jems,  chap.  vi. 


8o  JOHN  THE   BAPTIST 

ment,  to  abandon  all  righteousness  of  his  own,  and  "  to  draw 
near"  unto  God  "in  full  assurance  of  faith,  having  his  heart 
sprinkled  from  an  evil  conscience,  and  his  body  washed  with 
pure  water."  How,  then,  could  it  be  accepted  by  the  Divine 
and  sinless  Son  of  Man  ?  To  others — but  not  to  Him — could  have 
been  applied  the  words  of  Ezekiel,  "  Then  will  I  sprinkle  clean 
water  upon  you,  and  ye  shall  be  clean."  All  that  we  know  is 
what  the  Gospels  tell  us.  We  see  that  the  stern  prophet,  who 
was  no  respecter  of  persons  but  had  dared  to  address  scribes 
and  Pharisees  in  words  of  scornful  denunciation,  was  overawed 
before  the  innate  majesty  of  the  Son  of  God.  This  new  Elijah, 
in  his  shaggy  robe  of  camel's  hair,  with  its  coarse  leathern 
girdle — this  ascetic  dweller  in  the  deserts — this  herald  whose 
voice  rang  with  sternest  rebukes  to  startle  drowsy  souls,  and 
stir  them  to  repentance — is  at  once  hushed  into  timidity  at 
the  presence  of  the  Lord  of  Love.  So  far  from  welcoming  the 
acknowledgment  of  his  ministry  by  one  whom  he  instinctively 
recognized  as  his  Lord,  he  made  an  earnest  and  continuous  effort 
to  prevent  Him  from  accepting  his  baptism.  He  even  said,  "I 
have  need  to  be  baptized  of  thee,  and  comest  tkou  to  me  ? "  But 
the  only  explanation  given  to  us  is  in  the  words  of  our  Lord 
Himself.  He  overcame  John's  hesitating  scruples  by  saying, 
"Suffer  it  to  be  so  now:  for  thus  it  becometh  us  to  fulfil  all 
righteousness."  "  He  placed  the  confirmation  of  perfect  righteous 
ness,"  says  St.  Bernard,  "in  perfect  humility." 

Everyone  who  accepted  baptism  at  the  hands  of  John  accepted 
it  in  its  general  meaning  and  purpose,  and  applied  it  to  his  own 
spiritual  condition.  In  fact,  he  would  accept  it  in  no  other 
way.  And  there  must  have  been  a  variety  of  spiritual  conditions 
as  great  as  the  individual  cases  that  presented  themselves.  To 
some  the  meaning  of  the  rite  would  be  a  strong  but  diffused 
desire  with  vague  ideas ;  to  others,  material  and  social  progress 
and  national  aggrandizement  would  loom  the  largest ;  while  to 
others,  again,  the  spiritual  would  be  the  most  prominent  part  of 
the  conception.  We  cannot  reduce  all  the  adherents  of  new 
movements  to  the  same  unbroken  level  of  spiritual  nature  or 
expectation.  And  many  a  man  who  attaches  himself  to  such 
movements  does  so  accepting  the  general  motif,  but  by  no  means 
pledging  himself  to  every  tenet  and  position. 


JOHN  AND  JESUS  81 

How  didst  thou  start,  them   Holy   Baptist,  bid 
To  pour  repentance  on  the  Sinless  Brow  ! 

Then  all  thy  meekness,  from  thy  hearers  hid, 
Beneath  the  Ascetic's  port,  and  Preacher's  fire, 

Flow'd   forth,  and  with  a  pang  thou  didst  desire 
He  might  be  chief,  not  thou. 

And  so  on  us  at  whiles  it  falls,  to  claim 

Powers  that  we  dread,  or  dare  some  forward  part; 

Nor  must  we  shrink  as  cravens  from  the  blame 
Of  pride,  in  common  eyes,  or  pin  pose  deep; 

But  with  pure  thoughts  look  up  to  God,  and  keep 
Our  secret  in  our  heart.1 

1.  Of  the  intercourse  of  John  with  Jesus  the  Fourth  Gospel 
gives   an   account  which    (Utters  widely  from    that    presented  in 
the    Synoptics;  but,  apart  from   the  Johsnnine  colouring  of  the 
later    narrative,    the    difference     is    sufficiently    explained     on 
the    ordinary    view    that    the    Synoptists    describe    the    meeting 
between   the  two  at    the  time  of   our  Lord's  baptism,  while  the 
Fourth  Evangelist  concerns  himself  only  with  John's  subsequent 
testimony  to  the  now  recognized  Messiah  (cf.  John  i.  7  f.).     There 
is  no  real  discrepancy  between  John's,  "  I  knew  him  not,"  reported 
in  the  Fourth  Gospel  (i.  31),  and  the  representation  of  Matthew 
(iii.  13  ff.)  that,  when  the  Man  from  Nazareth  presented  Himself 
at  the   Jordan,  John   declined  at   first   to    baptize    Him,  on  the 
ground    of   his   own  un worthiness   in   comparison.     Even    if   we 
suppose  that,  in  spito  of  their  kinship  and  the  friendship  between 
their  mothers,  the  two  had  not  met  before,  the  fact  that  John's 
baptism    was  a  baptism  of  repentance  and   confession  seems    to 
imply    a    personal    interview    with    applicants    previous    to    the 
performance    of    the    rite — an    interview   which    in    the    case   of 
Jesus  must  have  revealed  to  one  with   the  Baptist's  insight  the 
beauty  and  glory  of  His  character.     On  the  other  hand,  the  "  I 
knew  him  not"  of  the  last  Gospel,  as  the  context  shows,  means 
only  that  John  did  not  know  that  Jesus  was  indeed  the  Messiah 
until  he  received  the  promised  sign. 

2.  All  the  Evangelists   unite  in   telling  us  that  Jesus,  as  soon 
us    He   was  baptized,  went  straightway   up  out  of  the  water,  as 

1  J.  II.  Ncwu.au. 
MAKY- -SIMON — 6 


82  JOHN  THE  BAPTIST 

if  to  intimate  that  it  was  chiefly  for  others,  and  not  from  any 
personal  necessity,  that  He  had  submitted  to  the  rite.  Luke  tells 
us  that  as  He  ascended  the  shelving  bank  of  the  Jordan  our 
Lord  was  engaged  in  prayer.  We  need  not  be  surprised  at 
this  fact.  On  his  ordination  day  a  minister  of  the  Gospel,  if 
he  enters  at  all  into  the  spirit  of  the  ceremony,  will  be  in  a 
praying  frame  from  morning  to  night.  How  much  more,  then, 
would  we  expect  this  "  Minister  of  the  sanctuary,  which  the  Lord 
pitched  and  not  man,"  to  be  found  in  a  Jacob-like  wrestling  of 
spirit  on  the  occasion  of  His  baptismal  ordination 

What  was  Christ's  prayer  ?  Edersheim  says  that  one  prayer, 
the  only  one  which  He  taught  His  disciples,  recurs  to  our  minds. 
We  must  here  individualize  and  emphasize  in  their  special  applica 
tion  its  opening  sentences :  "  Our  Father  which  art  in  heaven, 
Hallowed  be  thy  name.  Thy  kingdom  come.  Thy  will  be  done 
in  earth,  as  it  is  in  heaven."  The  first  thought  and  the  first 
petition  had  been  the  conscious  outcome  of  the  Tern  pie- visit, 
ripened  during  the  long  years  at  Nazareth.  The  others  were  now 
the  full  expression  of  His  submission  to  baptism.  He  knew  His 
mission ;  He  had  consecrated  Himself  to  it  in  His  baptism : 
"  Father  which  art  in  heaven,  Hallowed  be  thy  name."  The 
unlimited  petition  for  the  doing  of  God's  will  on  earth  with  the 
same  absoluteness  as  in  heaven,  was  His  self -consecration — the 
prayer  of  His  baptism,  as  the  other  was  its  confession.  And  the 
"  hallowed  be  thy  name  "  was  the  eulogy,  because  the  ripened  and 
experimental  principle  of  His  life.  How  this  will,  connected  with 
"  the  kingdom,"  was  to  be  done  by  Him,  and  when,  He  was  to 
learn  after  His  baptism.  But  it  is  strange  that  the  petition 
following  those  which  must  have  been  on  the  lips  of  Jesus  in 
that  hour  should  have  been  the  subject  of  the  first  temptation  or 
assault  by  the  Enemy ;  strange  also  that  the  other  two  tempta 
tions  should  have  rolled  back  the  force  of  the  assault  upon  the 
two  great  experiences  which  He  had  gained,  and  which  formed  the 
burden  of  the  petitions,  "  Hallowed  be  thy  name.  Thy  kingdom 
come."  Was  it  then  so,  that  all  the  assaults  which  Jesus  bore 
concerned  and  tested  the  reality  only  of  a  past  and  already 
attained  experience,  save  those  last  in  the  Garden  and  on 
the  Cross,  which  were  "  sufferings "  by  which  He  "  was  made 
perfect "  ? 


JOHN  AND  JESUS  85 

3.  As  the  prayer  of  Jesus  winged  heavenwards,  His  solemn 
response  to  the  call  of  the  Kingdom — "  Here  am  I  " ;  '  Lo,  I  conic 
to  do  thy  will " — the  answer  came,  which  at  the  same  time  was 
also  the  predicted  sign  to  the  Baptist.  Heaven  seemed  cleft,  and, 
in  bodily  shape  like  a  dove,  the  Holy  Ghost  descended  on  Jesus, 
remaining  on  Him.  The  Jewish  imagination,  fastening  on  that 
passage  in  the  first  chapter  of  the  Book  of  Genesis  which  speaks 
of  "  the  Spirit  of  God  brooding  upon  the  face  of  the  waters," 
according  to  the  Rabbinical  comment,  "  like  a  dove  hovering  over 
its  young,"  loved  to  figure  the  Spirit  as  a  dove.  And  there  was 
another  idea  which  had  lodged  itself  in  the  minds  of  the  later  Jews. 
The  voice  of  prophecy  was  mute,  and  men,  longing  to  hear  the 
silence  broken,  and  remembering  perhaps  how  their  poets  in  old 
days  had  styled  the  thunder  the  Voice  of  Jehovah,  persuaded 
themselves  that  ever  and  anon  God  spoke  from  Heaven,  sending 
forth  at  perplexing  crises  what  they  called  Bath  Kol,  the  Daughter 
of  a  Voice. 

Being  a  child  of  his  age  and  people,  the  Baptist  shared  those 
ideas,  and  God  employed  them  to  reveal  the  Messiah  to  him. 
As  Jesus  after  His  baptism  stood  praying  on  the  river  bank, 
"  Lo,  the  heavens  were  opened  unto  him,  and  he  saw  the  Spirit 
of  God  descending  as  a  dove,  and  coming  upon  him ;  and  lo,  a 
voice  out  of  the  heavens,  saying,  This  is  my  beloved  Son,  in  whom 
I  am  well  pleased."  It  was  a  distinct  attestation  of  His  Messiah- 
ship,  since  "  the  Son  of  God  "  was  a  Jewish  title  for  the  Messiah. 
The  vision  was  seen  and  the  voice  was  heard  by  Jesus  and  by 
John,  and  by  no  others.  Even  so  it  was  when  the  Lord  manifested 
Himself  after  the  Resurrection :  His  glorified  body  was  invisible 
to  the  eye  of  sense,  and  only  those  perceived  Him  who  were 
endowed  with  the  gift  of  spiritual  vision.  Jesus  and  John  were 
thus  enlightened,  and  they  beheld  the  vision  and  heard  the  voice, 
while  the  multitude  saw  nothing  and  heard  nothing.  It  was 
fitting  that  it  should  happen  thus.  For  them  alone  was  the 
revelation  designed — for  Jesus,  that  He  might  know  that  His  hour 
had  come,  and  for  John,  that  he  might  recognize  the  Messiah. 

Tf  If  this  vision  were  objective,  would  it  not  mark  a  now 
departure  in  the  method  by  which  Jehovah  communed  with  His 
servants  the  prophets?  The  "voice  of  the  Lord,"  or  the  "word 
of  God,"  catne.  to  them  and  spoke  in  their  exalted,  inspired,  and 


84  JOHN  THE   BAPTIST 

sensitized  consciousness.  It  was  "a  conviction  of  surprising  forcr 
and  intensity " ;  and  when  it  was  a  message  for  the  people,  it 
became,  by  thought  and  communion  with  God,  at  length  too  great 
and  strong  for  retention,  and  burst  forth  in  "  Thus  saith  the  Lord." 
Moses  and  all  the  prophets  heard,  believed,  and  obeyed  these 
voices  and  uttered  their  messages,  as  the  slightest  examination  of 
the  records  would  amply  show ;  and  had  they  been  objective,  open 
to  the  eyes  and  ears  of  all  and  sundry,  they  must  seriously  have 
militated  against  the  prophets'  sacredness,  their  separateness  of 
office  and  function  as  Jehovah's  representatives  and  heralds. 
Micaiah  said  to  the  king  of  Israel :  "  I  saw  the  Lord  sitting  on 
his  throne,  and  all  the  host  of  heaven  standing  by  him  on  his 
right  hand  and  on  his  left."  In  like  manner,  Isaiah  declares :  "  I 
saw  the  Lord  sitting  upon  a  throne,  high  and  lifted  up,  and  his 
train  filled  the  temple.  Above  him  stood  the  seraphim," — and 
the  prophet  goes  on  to  describe  the  scene  in  the  heaven  that  is  at 
once  the  throne-room  and  the  temple.  No  one  seriously  considers 
that  these  visions,  and  others  like  them,  existed  anywhere  else- 
save  in  the  inspired  consciousness  and  sublime  imagination  of  the 
prophets  themselves.  This  is  placed  beyond  doubt  by  the  vision 
of  Stephen  at  his  martyrdom.  Surrounded  by  his  persecutors,  he 
declared  he  saw  the  heavens  opened,  and  Jesus  standing  on  the 
right  hand  of  God.  Not  when  they  saw  the  vision,  but  when 
they  heard  the  testimony,  they  cried  out,  and  stopped  their  ears, 
and  ran  upon  him  with  one  accord  and  stoned  him.  Stephen 
alone  saw  it.  We  cannot  but  conclude,  then,  that  the  vision  of 
John  and  Jesus  was  subjective.1 

K  Matthew  and  Mark  made  clear  the  subjective  nature  of  the 
vision  by  saying,  "  He  saw  the  Spirit  of  God  descending,"  and 
"  He  saw  an  opening  in  the  sky."  Moreover,  the  words  of  the 
message  are  compounded  of  two  texts  from  the  Hebrew  Scrip 
tures,  suddenly  heard  within  the  mind  and  invested  with  a  special 
meaning  and  authority.  They  are  instances  of  audition,  of  the 
"  distinct  interior  words  "  whereby  the  spiritual  genius  commonly 
translates  his  intense  intuition  of  the  transcendent  into  a  form 
with  which  his  surface  mind  can  deal.  The  machinery  of  this 
whole  experience  is  in  fact  natural  and  human  machinery,  which 
has  been  used  over  and  over  again  in  the  course  of  the  bpiritual 
history  of  mankind.2 

And  once  again  I  saw  him,  in  latter  days 
Fraught  with  a  deeper  meaning,  for  he  came 
To  my  baptizing,  and  the  infinite  air 
Blushod  on  Ms  coming,  and  all  the  earth   was  still; 

1  J.  Feather.  »  E.  Underbill,  The  Mystic  Way,  87. 


JOHN  AND  JESUS  85 

flpntly  he  spake;    I  answered;   God  from  heaven 
Called,  and   I   hardly  heard  him,  such  a  love 
Streamed  in  that  orison  from  man  to  man. 
Then  shining  from  his  shoulders  either-way 
Fell  the  flood  Jordan,  and  his  kingly  eyes 
Looked  in  the  east,  and  star-like  met  the  sun. 
Once  in  no  manner  of  similitude, 
And  twice  in  thunderings  and  thrice  in  tlame, 
The  Highest  ere  now  hath  shown  him  secretly; 
But  when  from  heaven  the  visible  Spirit  in  air 
Came  verily,  lighted  on  him,  was  alone, 
Thru  knew  I,  then   I  said  it,  then  I  naw 
God  in  tiie  voice  and  glory  of  a  man.1 


II. 

JOHN'S  TKSTIMONY  TO  JESUS. 

Tho  culmination  of  the  Baptist's  personal  experience  was 
reached  when,  standing  in  the  water  of  Jordan,  he  saw  and  heard 
the  signs  with  which  the  baptism  of  Jesus  was  accompanied. 
But  he  had  still  a  great  work  to  do  in  bearing  testimony  to  the 
Messiah.  There  are  three  recorded  occasions  on  which  he  did  KO 
— the  first  when  a  deputation  was  sent  to  him  from  Jerusalem 
by  the  Jewish  authorities;  the  second  when  he  pointed  Jesus 
out  to  his  own  disciples  as  the  Messiah ;  and  the  third  when  he 
rebuked  the  attempt  of  his  disciples  to  stir  up  rivalry  between 
Jesus  and  himself.  And  on  each  of  these  occasions  John  not 
only  bore  conscious  witness  to  Christ,  but  at  the  same  time 
unconsciously  revealed  his  own  character. 

1.  Farrar  is  very  precise  as  to  the  time  of  the  embassy,  fixing 
it  "  the  day  previous  to  our  Lord's  return  from  the  wilderness." 
That  is  possible,  of  course,  if  Jesus  came  directly  to  Bethany, 
where  John  was  now  baptizing.  The  location  of  this  Bethany 
beyond  Jordan  is  unknown.  It  was  somewhere  on  the  eastern 
side  of  the  river,  probably  about  half-way  between  the  Dead  Sea 
and  the  Sea  of  Galilee.  We  do  not  at  all  know  that  John  had 
remained  in  the  same  place  during  the  forty  days  while  Jesus  waa 

1  F.  W.  H.  Myers,  Saint  John  U*  L'ajttui. 


86  JOHN  THE  BAPTIST 

in  the  wilderness.  It  is  more  than  probable  that  John  had  kept 
moving  up  the  river,  having  crossed  over  to  the  eastern  side. 

The  "  priests  and  Levites  "  who  formed  the  deputation  were  the 
Temple  dignitaries,  regarded  by  all,  and  regarding  themselves,  as 
custodians  of  the  Law  and  all  matters  religious.  They  were  the 
ecclesiastics  of  their  time,  who,  in  their  narrow  conscientiousness, 
were  sent  to  know  who  the  prophet  really  professed  to  be,  and 
what  his  mission  was.  There  is  no  need  to  assume  that  they  had 
prejudged  him  and  sought  only  his  condemnation,  though  the 
Pharisees  who  sent  them  still  smarted  under  the  castigation  they 
had  received  from  him  in  the  face  of  the  people.  Probably  the 
whole  of  them  would  be  ready  to  welcome  him,  and  to  sanction 
his  movement,  if  they  could  be  satisfied  of  his  credentials. 

There  was  a  profound  silence,  and  men  craned  their  necks  and 
strained  their  ears  to  see  and  hear  everything,  as  the  deputation 
challenged  the  prophet  with  the  inquiry,  "  Who  art  thou  ? " 
There  was  a  great  silence.  Men  were  prepared  to  believe 
anything  of  the  eloquent  young  preacher.  "  The  people  were  in 
expectation,  and  all  men  reasoned  in  their  hearts  concerning  John, 
whether  haply  he  were  the  Christ."  If  he  had  given  the  least 
encouragement  to  their  dreams  and  hopes,  they  would  have 
unfurled  again  the  tattered  banner  of  the  Maccabees;  and 
beneath  his  leadership  would  have  swept,  like  a  wild  hurricane, 
against  the  Koman  occupation,  gaining,  perhaps,  a  momentary 
success,  which  afterwards  would  have  been  wiped  out  in  blood. 
"  And  he  confessed,  and  denied  not ;  and  he  confessed,  I  am  not 
the  Christ." 

If  a  murmur  of  voices  burst  out  in  anger,  disappointment,  and 
chagrin,  as  this  answer  spread  from  lip  to  lip,  it  was  immediately 
hushed  by  the  second  inquiry  propounded,  "  What  then  ?  Art 
thou  Elijah?"  (alluding  to  the  prediction  of  Malachi  iv.  5).  If 
they  had  worded  their  question  rather  differently,  and  put  it  thus, 
"  Hast  thou  come  in  the  power  of  Elijah  ? "  John  must  have 
acknowledged  that  it  was  so ;  but  if  they  meant  to  inquire  if  he 
were  literally  Elijah  returned  again  to  this  world,  he  had  no 
alternative  but  to  say,  decisively  and  laconically,  "  I  am  not." 

There  was  a  third  arrow  in  their  quiver,  since  the  other  two 
had  missed  the  mark ;  and  amid  the  deepening  attention  of  the 
listening  multitudes,  and  in  allusion  to  Moses'  prediction  that 


JOHN  AND  JESUS  87 

God  would  raise  up  a  prophet  like  to  himself  (Deut.  xviii.  15; 
Acts  iii.  22,  vii.  37),  they  said,  "  Art  thou  the  prophet  ? "  and  he 
answered,  "  No." 

(1)  Observe  the  sijnplicity  of  John's  answer.     "  He  confessed, 
and  denied  not."     He  was  not  thinking  about  himself,  except  as 
one  of  manifold  things  in  God's  world.     So  when  they  asked  him 
about  himself,  he  answered  just  as  he  would  about  anything  else, 
outside  of  himself,  on  which  they  questioned  him.     He  thought 
neither  too  much  nor  too  little  about  himself.     So  when  his  own 
disciples  got  into  trouble  with  the  Jews,  he  gave  no  opinion,  as  we 
should  say,  but  answered  so  simply — "  A  man  can  receive  nothing, 
except  it  be  given  him  from  heaven." 

TJ  It  is  a  good  rule,  "  If  anything  comes  to  your  mind  which 
seems  a  good  answer  to  anything  you  don't  like,  suppress  it." 
There  is  sure  to  be  something  of  self  in  it.  It  is  pride  putting 
down  pride.1 

(2)  Then  its  clear-sif/htedness.     He  knew  at  once  what  he  was, 
and  what  he  was  not.     "  He  confessed,  and  denied  not."     Is  not 
our  trouble  often  that  we  do  not  know  ?     And  this  haziness,  is 
it  a  moral  or  an  intellectual  defect  ?     Is  it  want  of  luminous 
judgment  ?    or  is  it   a  double-mindedness  ?      Certain  it  is  that 
there  are  few  notes  of  character  more  evident  than  this  clear 
sight.     It  is  like  the  purity  of  a  child's  vision  in  matters  of 
conscience:  knowledge  without  the  trouble  of  thought,  intuition, 
the  action  of  light,  quick,  instantaneous,  delicate,  irresistible,  and 
pure. 

^[  The  seer,  what  is  he  ?  Is  he  not  just  the  man  who  sees 
deeper  than  others,  more  clearly  than  others;  sees  right  into  the 
heart  of  things,  into  the  essential  equality  of  being;  one  who, 
from  an  accurate  knowledge  of  the  great  spiritual  forces  at  work 
in  the  world,  can  predict  how  they  will  act,  and  what  results  will 
come  from  this  action  ?  This  it  is  which  has  made  the  prophets 
—the  true  ones — the  great  moral  authorities  of  the  world.  .  .  . 
Their  insight,  you  may  say,  was  a  scientific  one.  It  was  the 
result  of  a  true  diagnosis.  Just  as  the  modern  researcher,  probing 
and  testing  the  qualities  of  radium,  can  give  his  forecast  of  what 
it  is  to  accomplish,  so  the  prophet,  the  moral  genius,  whether  he 
lived  three  thousand  years  ago  or  is  among  us  to-day,  predicts 

1  Spiritual  LttUr$  of  E.  B.  Putcy,  72. 


88  JOHN  THE   BAPTIST 

what    the    spiritual    will    do   from    his    knowledge   of   what    it 
contains.1 

(3)  Look  in  the  third  place  at  the  disinterestedness  of  the 
Baptist's  answer.  He  emptied  himself  into  the  fulness  of  Christ. 
All  colour  of  self,  deep-dyed  as  it  was  in  the  intensely  character 
istic  life  of  the  desert,  was  quenched  in  the  burning  light  of  hi.s 
Lord.  There  was  nothing  in  him  of  his  own.  "  I  am  the  voice 
of  one  crying  in  the  wilderness,  Make  straight  the  way  of  the 
Lord,  as  said  Isaiah  the  prophet."  A  voice — not  a  word ;  a  voice 
crying  only  because  God  had  foretold  that  it  should  cry ;  a  voice 
crying  in  the  wilderness,  needing  no  audience ;  enough  if  it  be 
heard  by  God  and  accepted  as  the  true  echo  of  His  own  word ;  a 
voice  careless  whether  or  not  it  make  present  impressions ;  a 
voice  going  out  into  the  future,  foretelling  the  mind  of  the  Eternal, 
who  is  and  is  to  come. 

]f  In  a  sermon  that  he  preachod  in  Union  Chapel  on  the 
Sunday  that  concluded  the  fortieth  year  of  his  ministry  there,  he 
insisted  that  the  preacher's  business  was  not  to  establish  a  bet  of 
theological  principles  or  to  proclaim  simply  a  morality,  but  to 
proclaim  a  living  Person  and  a  historical  fact.  He  frequently 
referred  to  John  the  Baptist's  answer  to  the  question  "  Who  ar<t 
thou  ? "  "  I  am  a  voice,"  as  being  the  model  for  all  time.  Most 
truly  he  took  to  himself  the  advice  he  gave :  "  We  must  efface 
ourselves  if  we  would  proclaim  Christ."2 

2.  It  may  have  been  whilst  Jesus  WHS  away  in  the  wilderness, 
into  which  He  plunged  immediately  after  His  baptism,  to  endure 
the  forty  days'  temptation,  that  the  deputation  from  Jerusalem 
came  to  John.  It  is  easy  to  conceive  that,  after  so  unique  and 
prolonged  an  experience  as  Jesus  had  passed  through  in  the 
wilderness,  there  may  have  been  in  His  aspect  something 
unusually  impressive;  and,  when  He  came  suddenly  again  into 
the  circle  where  the  Baptist  was  standing,  the  first  look  at  Him 
sent  through  the  forerunner's  soul  a  revealing  shock  ;  whereupon, 
with  outstretched  finger  pointed  to  Him,  he  cried,  "  Behold  the 
Lamb  of  God,  which  taketh  away  the  sin  of  the  world." 

One  stood  among  the  people  whom  they  knew  not ;  but  John 
knew  and  perceived  features  of  the  glory  which  was  veiled  from 

1  J.  Bri  Tley,  Faith's  Certainti?.*,  85. 

2  Dr.  M'Larcn  of  Manchester,  211. 


JOHN  AND  JESUS  89 

others.     He  saw  the  beauty  which  the  scribe  and  Pharisee  neither 
saw  nor  desired.     What  were  these  features? 

(1)  He  recogni/ed  the  purity  of  Christ's  humanity. — "Behold," 
he   said,  "the   Limb."     Whatever  else  may  be  signified   in  this 
phrase,  and  the  phrase  has  many  meanings,  none  can  doubt  that  the 
idea  of  the  blamelessness  and  spotlessnees  of  Christ's  character  is 
suggested  ;  the  notion  is  drawn  from  the  paschal  lamb,  the  lamb 
which  must  be  "  without  blemish  and  without  spot."    When,  then, 
John  the  Baptist,  looking  with  loving  regard  upon  Christ  as  He 
walked,  said,  "  Behold  the  Lamb  of  God"  (whatever  anticipations 
of   sacrifice    might    pass    through    his   mind),   he   seems    ut    that 
moment  to  be  occupied  chiefly  with   the  thought  of  the  beauty 
and  the  purity  of  Christ's  character.     If  John's  knowledge  of  our 
Lord  began  in  early  life,  then  we  must  suppose  that  the  unsullied 
character  of  Christ,  known  to  the  Baptist  through  so  many  years, 
at  last  forces  upon  his  mind  the  thought  that  this  pure  humanity 
is  a  revelation    of    something    Divine.     But    in   any  case,  John 
recogni/es  tho  moral   beauty  and  dignity  of  our    Lord  when   he 
counts  it  fitting  to  describe  Him  as  the  Lamb  of  God. 

^i  In  his  conception  of  Christ  the  humanity  was  the  thing  on 
which  Denny  laid  chief  stress.  He  did  not  intrude  into  the 
region  of  dogmatic  theology  either  in  a  heterodox  or  in  an 
orthodox  inter*  st;  hut  1  think  he  would  have  agreed,  at  least 
substantially,  with  the  opening  words  of  Hinton's  "  Law 
breakers ":  "If  I  believe  that  Christ  is  Divine,  that  is  of  no 
moment.  We  all  wish  to  know  what  man  He  was."  l 

(2)  He  recognized  His  pure  Divinity. — Think  for  a  moment  of 
that  token   of   Divine  anointing  of  which  John  spoke.     "  Upon 
whomsoever   thou   shalt  see  the   Spirit  descending,  and   abiding 
upon  him,  the  same  is  he  that  baptizeth   with   the  Holy  Spirit." 
The   advent   of    this    Divine   anointing,    the    sign    of    the    Spirit 
descending  like  a  dove,  came  within  the  range  of  John's  experience. 
Whatever  the  historical  circumstances  connected  with  this  descent 
of  the  Spirit  may  have  been,  the  ethical  meaning  surely  is  clear. 
John  recognized  in  Christ  more  than  the  mere  purity  of  a  beautiful 
human  character;  he  recognized  the  fire  of  that  Divine  life  which 
glowed  within  Him.     He:  saw,  too,  that  that  fire  was  not  a  fire  to 
glow  unused  upon  the  altar  of  Christ's  manhood,  but  was  destined 

1  A.  II.  Uni'-p.  L  iff  of  H'UH.'m  Uniii'j,  232. 


90  JOHN  THE   BAPTIST 

to  be  a  kindling  fire  setting  aflame  the  hearts  of  men  and  purifying 
the  order  of  the  world.  He  was  not  only  anointed  with  the  Holy 
Ghost,  He  was  also  destined  to  baptize  the  world  with  the  Holy 
Ghost  and  with  fire. 

*U  Christ  either  deceived  mankind  by  conscious  fraud,  or  He 
was  Himself  deluded  and  self-deceived,  or  He  was  Divine.  There 
is  no  getting  out  of  this  trilemma.  It  is  inexorable.1 

(3)  He  recognized  the  work  of  Christ  as  one  of  suffering  and 
love. — He  not  only  said,  "  Behold  the  Lamb  of  God,"  but  he  said, 
"  the  Lamb  which  taketh  away  the  sin  of  the  world."  It  is 
difficult  to  believe  that  the  prophecy  of  Isaiah  was  not  in  his  mind. 
If  so,  and  we  can  hardly  doubt  it,  the  whole  range  of  that 
wondrous  prophecy  is  gathered  up  in  the  utterances  of  John  the 
Baptist ;  and  in  his  view  Christ  was  "  the  servant  of  the  Lord  " 
who  was  to  "see  of  the  travail  of  his  soul"  and  was  to  "be 
satisfied."  He  was  One  upon  whose  life  was  to  fall  sorrow,  and 
yet  in  whose  sorrow  the  world  was  to  find  life.  He  was  to 
accomplish  the  reconciliation  which  should  make  the  world  glad. 
He  was  to  achieve  that  work  which  would  inaugurate  among  men 
a  new  era  of  love  and  a  noble  principle  of  sacrifice. 

If  That  by  the  title  "  the  Lamb  of  God "  the  Baptist  meant 
only  to  designate  Jesus  as  a  person  full  of  gentleness  and  innocence 
is  out  of  the  question.  The  second  clause  forbids  this.  He  is  the 
Lamb  that  takes  away  sin.  And  there  is  only  one  way  in  which 
a  lamb  can  take  away  sin,  and  that  is,  by  sacrifice.  The  expression 
no  doubt  suggests  the  picture  in  the  fifty-third  of  Isaiah  of  the 
servant  of  Jehovah  meekly  enduring  wrong.  But  unless  the 
Baptist  had  been  previously  speaking  of  this  chapter,  the  thoughts 
of  his  disciples  would  not  at  once  turn  to  it,  because  in  that 
passage  it  is  not  a  lamb  of  sacrifice  that  is  spoken  of,  but  a  lamb 
meekly  enduring.  In  the  Baptist's  words  sacrifice  is  the  primary 
idea,  and  it  is  needless  to  discuss  whether  he  was  thinking  of  the 
paschal  lamb  or  the  lamb  of  morning  and  evening  sacrifice,  because 
he  merely  used  the  lamb  as  the  representative  of  sacrifice  generally. 
Here,  he  says,  is  the  reality  to  which  all  sacrifice  has  pointed,  the 
Lamb  of  God.2 

3.  John  was  but  a  herald  voice ;  and  his  work  was  but  a 
symbol.  He  but  drew  diagrams  to  suggest  the  realities  that  were 

1  John  Duncan,  Colloquia  Peripatetica,  109. 

2  Marcus  Dods,  The  Gomel  of  St.  John,  i.  46. 


JOHN  AND  JESUS  91 

coming.  Watt-r  will  wash  the  body,  but  it  will  not  purify  the 
spirit.  The  spirit  is  like  a  precious  metal,  from  which  water  will 
run  off,  leaving  all  its  impurities  and  dross  still  there.  The  spirit 
must  be  baptized  with  tire,  suffused  with  heat,  penetrated,  even 
melted,  with  the  fire  of  God,  that  it  may  be  cleansed ;  and  He 
who  would  thus  set  aglow  the  spirit  of  man  was  at  hand.  Thus 
John,  in  the  midst  of  his  popularity,  remained  unaffected.  He 
passed  through  all  its  temptations  unchanged.  But  it  began  to 
appear  that  his  day  was  over.  People  wearied  of  him.  The 
fashion  changed.  The  thunder  and  the  earthquake  had  lost  their 
terrors.  Men  revenged  themselves  upon  him  for  the  terrors  he 
had  caused  them,  and  because  he  brought  them  to  their  knees,  by 
ridiculing  him  and  his  manner.  They  had  recovered  from  the 
fright  he  gave  them,  and  they  vented  their  dislike  in  mockery. 
John  came  neither  eating  nor  drinking,  and  they  said  he  had  a 
devil.  "  The  man,"  they  said,  "  is  touched  in  the  head,  and  why 
mind  him  ? "  They  forsook  him.  Another  voice  had  begun  to  be 
heard,  a  still  small  voice ;  and  some  found  it  had  a  greater  charm  than 
the  thunder  of  John's*  and  they  flocked  to  listen  to  its  gentle  tones. 
It  was  a  trying  hour  for  John ;  and  there  were  some  who 
rubbed  the  salt  into  the  wound.  Whether  they  were  sympathizers, 
or  candid  friends,  or  busybodies  pleased  to  make  mischief,  it  is 
hard  to  say.  "  Rabbi,"  said  they,  "  he  that  was  with  thee  beyond 
Jordan,  to  whom  thou  barest  witness,  behold,  the  same  baptizeth ; 
and  all  men  come  to  him."  Professional  jealousy  is  said  to  breed 
the  deadliest  rancour  known;  when  one  hears  praise  bestowed  on 
another  of  the  same  cloth,  it  is  said  to  run  through  the  veins  like 
poison.  John  heard  the  words  that  told  him  that  his  sun  was 
setting,  and  that  a  brighter  star  had  risen  on  the  horizon,  and  he 
answered  not  with  chagrin,  but  with  joy :  "  A  man  can  receive 
nothing,  except  it  be  given  him  from  heaven.  He  must  increase, 
but  I  must  decrease."  Surely  nothing  greater  or  nobler  was  ever 
said.  A  man  haa  nothing  except  it  be  given  him  of  God.  What 
1  have,  God  has  given  me.  What  my  professional  brother  has, 
God  has  given  him.  If  lie  can  alleviate  human  pain  and  distress 
with  more  skill  than  I,  it  is  from  God  he  has  the  gift ;  if  he  can 
speak  to  men's  consciences  with  greater  power  than  1,  it  is  of  God. 
A  spark  of  goodness  or  power  from  God  animates  us  all.  It  is 
God  in  us.  Let  us  see  God  in  each  other,  and  rejoice. 


92  JOHN  THE  BAPTIST 

H  By  far  the  very  best  thing  that  the  Baptist  ever  said  or  did 
was  what  he  said  to  his  jealous  disciples:  "A  man  can  receive 
nothing,"  he  said,  "  except  it  be  given  him  from  heaven.  He  that 
hath  the  bride  is  the  bridegroom.  He  must  increase,  but  I  must 
decrease."  I  would  rather  have  had  the  grace  from  God  to  say 
that  than  have  been  the  greatest  man  ever  born  of  woman.  For 
lie  who  thinks,  and  says,  and  does  a  thing  like  that  is  born,  not  of 
blood,  nor  of  the  will  of  the  flesh,  nor  of  the  will  of  man,  but  of 
God.1 

U  Perhaps  the  secret  of  Father  Stanton's  success  as  a  preacher 
is  told  in  the  advice  he  once  gave  to  all  his  fellow-preachers,  and 
most  steadily  followed  in  his  own  ministry :  "  Remember,  our 
Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ  has  made  you  fishers  of  men,  and 
a  good  fisher  keeps  himself  well  out  of  sight.  Let  your  Master  be 
always  to  the  fore  and  yourself  in  the  background.  Then,  when 
the  time  comes  for  you  to  go  behind  the  scenes,  and  for  others  to 
take  your  place,  you  will  be  comforted  by  the  words  of  the  greatest 
among  men  of  all  the  preachers,  Ilium  oportet  crescere,  me  autein 
minui."  * 

1f  Writing  of  the  festival  of  the  Nativity  of  John  the  Baptist, 
which  is  celebrated  on  June  24th,  Baring-Gould  says:  "A 
mystical  signification  may  have  attached  to  the  position  of  this 
day  in  the  kalendar.  For  in  the  months  of  June  and  December 
are  the  solstices, — with  the  first,  the  days  decrease,  with  the  latter 
they  increase.  In  connection  with  this  the  words  of  the  Baptist, 
'  He  must  increase,  but  I  must  decrease/  acquire  a  new  and 
fanciful  significance.  S.  Augustine  says:  'At  the  nativity  of 
Christ  the  days  increase  in  length,  on  that  of  John  they  decrease. 
When  the  Saviour  of  the  world  is  born,  the  days  lengthen ;  but 
when  the  last  prophet  comes  into  the  world,  the  days  suffer 
cm  bailment.' " 3 

1  A.  Whyte. 

2  J.  Clayton,  Father  Stanton  of  tit.  Allan's,  Hulbvrn,  83. 

3  S.  Baring-Gould,  The  Lives  of  the  Saints  (ed.  1898),  vi.  332. 


JOHN   THE    BAPTIST. 

III. 
JOHN  AND  HEROD. 


LITERATURE. 

Andrews,  S.  J.,  The  Life  of  Our  Lord  (1892),  276. 

Carpenter,  W.  B.,  The  Son  of  Man  among  the  Sons  of  Men  (1893),  235. 

Clow,  W.  M.,  The  Secret  of  the  Lord  (1910),  255. 

Gumming,  J.  E.,  John :  The  Baptist,  Forerunner,  and  Martyr. 

Davidson,  A.  B.,  The  Called  of  God  (1902),  229. 

Dawson,  W.  J.,  The  Man  Christ  Jesus  (1901),  29. 

Edersheim,  A.,  TJie  Life  and.Times  of  Jesus  the  Messiah^  i.  (1887)  654. 

Farrar,  F.  W.,  The  Life  of  Lives  (1900),  227. 

Feather,  J.,  The  Last  of  the  Prophets  (1894). 

Ferrier,  J.  T.,  The  Master:  His  Life  and  Teachings  (1913),  65. 

Furse,  C.  W.,  The  Beauty  of  Holiness  (1903),  47. 

Greenhough,  J.  G.,  in  Men  of  the  New  Testament  :  Matthew  to  Timothy 

(1905),  71. 

Higginson,  E.,  Ecce  Messias  (1871),  247. 
Holtzmann,  0.,  The  Life  of  Jesus  (1904),  127. 
Lange,  J.  P.,  The  Life  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  iii.  98,  108  ;  v.  322. 
Mackay,  D.  S.,  The  Religion  of  the  Threshold  (1908),  260. 
Meyer,  F.  B.,  John  the  Baptist  (1911). 
Reynolds,  H.  R.,  John  the  Baptist  (1874). 
Robertson,  A.  T.,  John  the  Loyal  (1912). 
Robertson,  F.  W.,  Sermons,  iii.  (1876)  270. 
Simpson,  W.  J.  S.,  The  Prophet  of  the  Highest  (1895). 
Smith,  D.,  The  Days  of  His  Flesh  (1905),  221. 
Stalker,  J.,  The  Two  St.  Johns  (1895),  189. 
Watson,  J.,  The  Life  of  the  Master  (1902),  77,  89. 
Dictionary  of  the  Bible,  ii.  (1899)  677  (LI.  J.  M.  Bebb). 

„  „     (Single-volume,  1909),  474  (J.  G.  Tasker). 

Dictionary  of  Christ  and  the  Gospels,  i.  (190G)  861  (J.  C.  Lambert). 
Encyclopedia  Biblica,  ii.  (1901),  col.  2498  (T.  K.  Cheyne). 
Smith's  Dictionary  of  the  Bible,  i.  (1893)  1736  (E.  Huwluns). 


JOHN  AND  HEROD. 

For  Herod  had  laid  hold  on  John,  and  bound  him,  and  put  him  in  prison 
for  the  sake  of  Herodias,  his  brother  Philip's  wife.  For  John  said  unto  him, 
It  is  not  lawful  for  thee  to  have  her. — Matt.  xiv.  3,  4. 

1.  WHEN  we  last  heard  of  John  he  was  baptizing  in  ^Euon,  near 
to  Saliin.  The  scene  has  changed.  The  Baptist  has  become  the 
prisoner  of  Herod  Antipas.  Herod  has  two  palaces  in  Peraea, 
one  at  Julias,  the  other  at  Machaerus.  John  was  imprisoned  at 
Macha-rus. 

Machaerus  had  been  built  by  Alexander  Jannoeus,  but  destroyed 
by  Gabinius  in  the  wars  of  Pompey.  It  was  not  only  restored 
but  greatly  enlarged  by  Herod  the  Great,  who  surrounded  it 
with  the  best  defences  known  at  that  time.  In  fact,  Herod  the 
Great  built  a  town  along  the  shoulder  of  the  hill,  and  surrounded 
it  by  walls  fortified  by  towers.  From  this  town  a  farther  height 
had  to  be  climbed,  on  which  the  castle  stood,  surrounded  by 
walls  and  flanked  by  towers  one  hundred  and  sixty  cubits  high. 
Within  the  iuclosure  of  the  castle  Herod  had  built  a  magnificent 
palace.  A  large  number  of  cisterns,  storehouses,  and  arsenals,  con 
taining  every  weapon  of  attack  or  defence,  had  been  provided  to 
enable  the  garrison  to  stand  a  prolonged  siege.  Josephus  describes 
even  its  natural  position  as  unassailable. 

2.  What  was  the  reason  of  John's  imprisonment  ?  According 
to  the  Synoptists,  it  was  due  to  the  spiteful  hatred  of  Herodias 
because  he  had  rebuked  Ht-rod  for  making  her  his  wife  in  flagrant 
defiance  of  the  law  of  Israel.  Josephus,  on  the  other  hand,  says 
that  Herod  put  the  prophet  to  death  because  he  "  feared  lest  the 
great  influence  John  had  over  the  people  might  put  it  in  his  power 
and  inclination  to  raise  a  rebellion ;  for  they  seemed  ready  to  do 
anything  he  should  advise."  The  two  statements,  however,  are 
not  irreconcilable ;  and  certainly  the  evidence  of  Josephus,  whose 

95 


96  JOHN   THE  BAPTIST 

interests  as  an  historian  lay  altogether  in  the  political  direction,  is 
not  such  as  to  cast  any  suspicion  on  the  trustworthiness  of  the 
more  detailed  and  more  intimate  Gospel  narrative.  It  may  very 
well  have  been  the  caso  that,  while  John's  death  was  really  due  to 
the  implacable  hate  of  Herodias,  Herod  felt  that  this  was  hardly 
an  adequate  ground,  or  one  that  he  would  care  to  allege,  for  the 
execution  of  the  Baptist,  and  so  made  political  reasons  his  excuse. 
Assuredly  there  was  nothing  of  the  political  revolutionary  about 
John;  yet  his  extraordinary  influence  over  the  people  and  the 
wild  hopes  raised  among  certain  classes  by  his  preaching  might 
make  it  easy  for  Herod  to  present  a  plausible  justification  of  his 
base  deed  by  representing  John  as  a  politically  dangerous  person. 

3.  We  might  wonder  how  it  could  happen  that  a  man  like 
Herod,  who  notoriously  lived  in  a  glass  house,  so  far  as  character 
went,  should  be  willing  to  call  in  so  merciless  a  preacher  of 
repentance  as  John  the  Baptist  was — before  whose  words,  ftung 
like  stones,  full  many  a  glass  house  had  crashed  to  the  ground, 
leaving  its  tenant  unsheltered  before  the  storm.  But  it  must  be 
remembered  that  most  men,  when  they  enter  the  precincts  of  the 
court,  are  accustomed  to  put  velvet  in  their  mouths ;  and,  how 
ever  vehement  they  may  have  been  in  denouncing  the  sins  of  the 
lower  classes,  they  change  their  tone  when  face  to  face  with 
sinners  in  high  places.  Herod,  therefore,  had  every  reason  to 
presume  that  John  would  obey  this  unwritten  law ;  and,  whilst 
denouncing  sin  in  general,  would  refrain  from  anything  savouring 
of  the  direct  and  personal.  But  John  said  to  Herod,  "  It  is  not 
lawful  for  thee  to  have  her." 

"  It  is  refreshing,"  says  Kobertson  of  Brighton,  "  to  look  upon 
such  a  scene  as  this — the  highest,  the  very  highest  moment, 
I  think,  in  all  John's  history ;  higher  than  his  ascetic  life.  For, 
after  all,  ascetic  life  such  as  he  had  led  before,  when  he  fed  upon 
locusts  and  wild  honey,  is  hard  only  in  the  first  resolve.  When 
you  have  once  made  up  your  mind  to  that,  it  becomes  a  habit  to 
live  alone.  To  lecture  the  poor  about  religion  is  not  hard.  To 
speak  of  unworldliness  to  men  with  whom  we  do  not  associate, 
and  who  do  not  see  our  daily  inconsistencies,  that  is  not  hard.  To 
speak  contemptuously  of  the  world  when  we  have  no  power  of 
commanding  its  admiration,  that  is  not  difficult.  But  when  God 


JOHN  AND  HEROD  97 

has  givon  a  man  accomplishments  or  powers  which  wouM  enable 
him  to  shine  in  society,  and  he  can  still  be  firm,  and  steady,  and 
uncompromisingly  true ;  when  he  can  be  as  undaunted  before  the 
rich  as  before  the  poor  ;  when  rank  and  fashion  cannot  subdue 
him  into  silence ;  when  he  hates  moral  evil  as  sternly  in  a  great 
man  as  he  would  in  a  peasant,  there  is  truth  in  that  man.  This 
was  the  test  to  which  the  Baptist  submitted."  So  John  was  cast 
into  prison. 

^1  Wh^Mi  staying  at  a  country  house,  amongst  men  of  groat 
literary  reputation,  when  the  host,  then  but  slightly  known  to 
him,  made  use  of  some  Rabelaisian  expression — unaware  perhaps 
for  the  moment  that  he  was  entertaining  a  clergyman — Jowett 
said  quite  simply,  "  Mr.  —  — ,  I  do  not  think  myself  better  than 
you,  but  I  feel  bound  to  disapprove  of  that  remark."  This 
attitude  was  maintained  consistently  in  later  life,  but  with  differ 
ences  of  method,  in  accordance  with  his  increasing  knowledge  of 
men  and  things.  At  a  Scotch  shooting  lodge,  somewhere  in  the 
sixties,  he  insisted  on  going  down  to  the  smoking-room  with  the 
others  at  a  late  hour,  and  when  the  conversation  of  the  younger 
men  took  a  doubtful  turn,  the  small  voice  that  had  been  silent 
hitherto,  was  suddenly  heard — "  There  is  more  dirt  than  wit  in 
that  story,  I  think."  Once  again,  in  the  eighties,  when  at  Balliol 
after  dinner  some  old  companion  ventured  on  dangerous  ground, 
he  quietly  said,  "Shall  we  continue  this  conversation  with  the 
ladies  ?"  and  rose  to  go.1 


THK  DEPUTATION  TO  JESUS. 

1.  The  imprisonment  was  a  weary  lime,  and  its  protraction 
was  due  to  the  play  of  opposing  influences  on  the  mind  of  the 
vacillating  tyrant.  In  the  first  flush  of  his  resentment,  Antipas 
would  have  had  him  executed  had  he  dared ;  but,  knowing  how 
greatly  the  multitude  revered  the  prophet,  he  dreaded  an  insurrec 
tion  should  he  destroy  their  idol.  He  therefore  kept  John  under 
arrest,  and  presently  a  still  more  powerful  dread  took  possession 
of  him.  He  had  repeated  interviews  with  the  prisoner,  and  his 
guilty  soul  quailed  before  that  fearless  man,  so  helpless  yet  so 
majestic.  "  He  was  much  perplexed,  and  gladly  listened  to  him," 

1  The  Life  and  Letters  of  Benjamin  Joicctt,  i.  84. 
MARY-SIMON — 7 


98  JOHN  THE   BAPTIST 

It  was  the  supreme  crisis  in  the  tetrarch's  life.  His  conscience 
was  stirred,  and  he  was  disposed  to  obey  its  dictates  and  yield  to 
the  importunities  of  the  Holy  Spirit ;  but,  alas,  he  was  hampered 
by  his  evil  past.  Herodias  held  him  back.  For  her  sake  he  had 
sinned,  and  now  that  he  was  minded  to  repent,  he  was  fast  bound 
by  the  fetters  which  he  had  himself  forged.  She  was  bitter  with 
all  a  bad  woman's  bitterness  against  the  Baptist  for  his  denuncia 
tion  of  her  infamous  marriage,  and  clamoured  for  his  death. 
Torn  this  way  and  that,  the  tetrarch  had  neither  executed  his 
prisoner  nor  set  him  at  liberty,  but  had  held  him  in  durance  all 
that  weary  time.  It  seems  that  he  showed  him  not  a  little 
indulgence  and  made  his  captivity  as  easy  as  possible,  allowing 
his  disciples  free  access  to  their  master.  Imprisonment  was  not, 
indeed,  in  the  ancient  world  exactly  the  same  thing  as  it  is  among 
us.  A  prisoner  frequently  enjoyed  a  great  deal  of  freedom,  and 
he  could  generally  be  visited  by  his  friends,  as  is  indicated  in  the 
parable  which  says,  "I  was  in  prison,  and  ye  came  unto  me." 
Hence  the  Baptist  received  information  of  what  was  taking  place 
outside,  and  he  was  able  to  send  messages  to  whomsoever  he 
desired. 

TI  People  were  kinder  in  these  old  days,  and  did  not  throw 
men  into  the  lowest  dungeons  of  towers,  as  happens  with  us. 
Captives  were  simply  guarded,  in  places  where  others  could 
approach  them.  Such  was  the  prison  of  Joseph  in  Egypt  and  of 
Paul  the  Apostle  in  Rome.  Many  sat  with  them,  and  conversa 
tion  went  on.  Others  stood  about  the  doors  and  exchanged 
remarks  with  the  prisoners.  We  read  in  Demosthenes  that 
^Eschines,  when  in  prison,  was  boycotted  by  the  remaining 
captives,  so  that  no  one  would  eat  with  him  or  light  his  lamp. 
From  this  we  see  that  even  prisoners  had  their  rules  of  govern 
ment.  Briefly,  then,  prisons  in  former  times  were  merely  places 
of  secure  guardianship,  as  even  the  lawyers  say :  A  prison  should 
be  a  place  of  ward,  and  not  a  torture  house.1 

2.  It  is  very  touching  to  remark  the  tenacity  with  which  some 
few  of  John's  disciples  clung  to  their  great  leader.  The  majority 
had  dispersed :  some  to  their  homes,  some  to  follow  Jesus.  Only 
a  handful  lingered  still,  not  alienated  by  the  storm  of  hate  which 
had  broken  on  their  master,  but  drawn  nearer,  with  the  unfalter- 

1  Melanchtbon,  Corpus  JKeformatorum,  vol.  xxiv.  col.  88, 


JOHN  AND  HEROD  99 

ing  loyalty  of  unchangeable  affection.  They  could  not  forget 
what  he  had  been  to  them — that  he  had  first  called  them  to  the 
reality  of  living ;  that  he  had  taught  them  to  pray ;  that  he  had 
led  them  to  the  Christ :  and  they  dare  not  desert  him  now,  in  the 
dark  sad  days  of  his  imprisonment  and  sorrows.  These  heroic 
souls  risked  all  the  peril  that  might  accrue  to  themselves  from 
this  identification  with  their  master  ;  they  did  not  hesitate  to  come 
to  his  cell  with  tidings  of  the  great  outer  world,  and  especially  of 
what  He  was  doing  and  saying  whose  life  was  so  mysteriously 
bound  up  with  his  own.  "  The  disciples  of  John  told  him  of  all 
these  things  "  (Luke  vii.  18,  R.V.).  It  was  to  two  of  these  choice 
and  steadfast  friends  that  John  confided  the  question  which  had 
long  been  forming  within  his  soul,  and  forcing  itself  to  the  front. 
"  And  John  calling  unto  him  two  of  his  disciples  sent  them  to  the 
Lord,  saying,  Art  thou  he  that  cometh,  or  look  we  for  another  ? " 

From  first  to  last  I  knew  I  must  decrease: 
This  in  the  Wilderness  hath  been  my  peace. 
Now  in  my  cell  He  hath  deserted  me.  .  .  . 
I  wonder,  is  He  Christ — can  it  be  He? 

I  have  sent  messengers  to  ask  Him  plain 
Is  He  the  Christ  ?     Before  they  come  again 
I  see  Him  on  the  road  ...  I  am  sufficed  ! 
He  is  the  Lamb  of  God,  He  is  the  Christ. 

I  pointed  others  to  Him  and  they  went ; 
I  was  deserted,  yet  in  heart  content: 
Now  He  deserts  me,  as  His  pleasure  is — 
His  pleasure,  stricter  than  His  promises. 

So  bold  I  spoke  to  sinners  of  the  axe, 
Who  am  just  now  a  bit  of  smoking  flax — 
He  would  but  quench  me  if  I  saw  Him  nigh 
.  .  .  Far  off  let  Him  abide,  and  I  will  die  ! l 

3.  Doubt  was  in  the  question ;  and  let  none  wonder  that  this 
man  of  energy  and  faith  should  doubt.  The  agony  of  doubt  is 
often  the  portion  of  the  highest  faith.  Job  took  the  honest 
complaint  of  his  spirit  to  God,  and  the  love  of  God  did  not  refuse 
him.  So  it  proved  with  John.  In  his  lone  hour  of  doubt  he 

1  Michael  Field,  Mystic  Trcei,  118. 


ioo  JOHN  THE   BAPTIST 

turned  to  Christ,  as  naturally  as  Job  in  the  hour  of  his  doubt 
turned  to  God.     And  he  did  not  turn  in  vain. 

Now  here  is  a  man  pre-eminently  fitted  to  stand  alone — a  man 
who  at  first  might  be  deemed  independent  of  the  assistance  of 
inward  or  spiritual  strength.  Yet  this  man  leans  on  Christ.  He 
recognizes  Christ  as  his  superior,  not  merely  in  the  way  in  which 
a  man  might  recognize  another  from  a  literary  or  intellectual 
point  of  view  as  his  superior ;  he  recognizes  Christ  as  a  very 
present  help  in  trouble,  as  One  from  whose  life  he  can  derive  life, 
as  One  who  can  solve  his  doubts,  as  One  who  is  the  bridegroom 
of  the  spirits  of  men.  An  ascendancy  like  this  may  rebuke  the 
imagination  of  those  who  think  that  religion  is  all  very  well  for 
the  weak,  but  that  the  strong  can  stand  alone.  It  is  a  mistake  to 
suppose  that  the  mighty  men  of  the  earth  need  no  help  from  the 
power  of  faith.  It  is  indeed  true  that  for  a  while  men  may  live 
without  realizing  their  need,  but  there  are  times  in  which  the 
strongest  are  weak.  If  a  man  is  noble  he  feels  it  when  tempta 
tion  is  upon  him ;  if  he  is  hopeful  he  feels  it  when  failure  is  his 
portion ;  if  he  is  loving  he  will  feel  it  in  the  hour  of  sorrow  ;  if 
he  is  hungering  for  righteousness  he  will  feel  it  in  the  presence  of 
sin.  And  if  not  at  such  times  as  these,  yet  afterwards,  when  the 
joys  of  life  decrease,  and  our  powers  of  enjoyment  grow  feeble ; 
when  success  falls  from  our  side ;  or  when  even  our  pleasure  in 
success  dies  into  nothingness;  then,  when  we  are  face  to  face 
with  the  remediless  weakness  of  humanity,  we 

Stretch  lame  hands  of  faith,  and  grope 
And  gather  dust  and  chaif,  and  call 
To  what  we  feel  is  Lord  of  all, 
And  faintly  trust  the  larger  hope. 

Something  of  this  sort  probably  passed  through  John's  mind 
in  his  prison  at  Machaerus.  He  felt  that  the  joy  of  life  had 
vanished  with  his  opportunity  of  activity,  and,  like  so  many  from 
whose  life  sunlight  has  passed  away,  he  found  it  hard  to  believe 
that  the  sun  was  shining  anywhere. 

T[  Nothing,  to  my  mind,  in  the  whole  history  of  the  I>;iptist  is 
half  so  tragical  as  that.  And  why  ?  Because  it  is  the  man  part 
ing  from  his  innermost  self.  It  is  as  if  Shakespeare  had  lost  his 
passion,  as  if  Tennyson  had  lost  his  culture,  as  if  Keats  had  lost 


JOHN  AND  HEROD  101 

his  colouring.  If  this  man  had  kept  his  confidence  undimmed  we 
should  have  looked  in  vain  for  the  element  of  tragedy ;  not  the 
dungeon,  not  the  persecution  by  Herod,  not  the  axe  of  the  heads 
man,  could  have  made  the  final  scene  other  than  glorious.  But 
when  a  cloud  fell  over  his  innermost  self,  when  in  the  flood  he 
lost  sight  of  the  bow,  when  his  faith  wavered,  when  his  one 
strong  and  seemingly  invincible  possession  received  damage  on  a 
rock  of  earth — this  is  the  crisis  of  the  drama,  this  is  the  tragedy 
of  the  scene  ! 1 

4.  Christ's  answer  was  one  well  fitted  to  the  character  and 
disposition  and  faith  of  John.  "  Go  your  way,  and  tell  John 
what  things  ye  have  seen  and  heard;  the  blind  receive  their 
sight,  the  lame  walk,  the  lepers  are  cleansed,  the  deaf  hear,  the 
dead  are  raised  up,  the  poor  have  good  tidings  preached  to  them. 
And  blessed  is  he  whosoever  shall  find  none  occasion  of  stumbling 
in  me."  Tn  other  words,  "  Go  and  report  to  John  that  God  is 
still  actively  working  in  the  world,  that  the  needs  of  humanity 
are  not  forgotten,  that  the  sorrows  of  humanity  are  consoled. 
Tell  John  that  though  there  may  be  darkness  in  Machserus,  and 
deep  darkness  in  the  heart  of  the  captive  there,  yet  God's  sunlight 
of  love  is  still  shining  in  the  world.  Tell  him  that  the  faith 
which  can  live  only  in  the  sunlight  is  not  the  faith  which  he 
himself  once  possessed.  Tell  him  that  the  joy  of  souls  that  are 
noble  may  be  found  in  suffering.  Tell  him  that  the  delay  and  the 
seeming  heedlessness  of  Divine  power  is  never  a  loveless  or  unwise 
delay.  Blessed  is  he  whose  heart  does  not  stumble  because 
Divine  love  does  not  act  as  selfishness  or  as  despair  may  desire ; 
blessed  is  lie  who  in  darkness  can  trust  the  Divine  wisdom  of 
the  Divine  love.  Blessed  is  he  whosoever  shall  not  be  offended 
in  Me." 

Such  a  message  implied  the  highest  trust  in  him  to  whom  it 
was  sent.  It  was  a  salutary  message,  for  it  carried  comfort  and 
invigoration.  It  did  not  merely  console  and  soothe;  it  was 
calculated  to  stimulate  and  to  inspire.  It  was  just  what  the 
Baptist  needed;  it  spoke  to  his  manhood  and  to  his  faith.  It 
was  like  the  call  of  the  officer  on  the  field  who  bids  his  troops 
stand  in  the  hour  of  danger.  It  was  the  message  which,  calling 
to  courage  and  high  trust,  fell  upon  the  captive's  ear  as  the  hour 

1  G.  Mathcsnu. 


102  JOHN  THE  BAPTIST 

of  his  martyrdom  drew  nigh.  He  was  to  suffer  as  well  as  to 
serve ;  and  his  faith  at  the  last  is  sustained  by  the  message  which 
assured  him  that  God's  love  was  not  dead,  and  that  patience  as 
well  as  courage  was  needed  in  the  discipline  and  education  of 
faith.  "  Blessed  is  he  who  is  not  offended  in  me." 

U  Christianity  not  only  lives,  but  it  grows  and  holds  the  field. 
It  lives,  despite  all  the  mistakes  of  its  theology,  notwithstanding 
all  the  persevering  efforts  of  the  Church  to  misrepresent  and  to 
falsify  it.  What  is  the  meaning  of  all  this  ?  There  seems  only 
one  explanation.  Christianity  came  not  as  a  theory  but  as  a  life 
— a  new  kind  of  life.  And  its  fortune  has  been  like  that  of  a 
savage  who  is  indeed  alive,  but  whose  explanation  of  his  life,  of 
his  body  and  his  soul,  is  the  most  grotesque  misrepresentation 
of  the  reality.  When  he  gets  some  anatomy  and  physiology  he 
will  find  some  better  though  still  inadequate  theories.  Christi 
anity  has  persisted  because  men,  apart  from  their  crude  thinking 
about  it,  have  felt  the  thrill  of  its  life.  It  has  persisted  because 
age  after  age  it  has  offered  to  the  soul  its  hidden  manna ;  has 
ministered  as  nothing  else  has  done  to  its  moral  and  spiritual 
hunger.  Have  we  not  here  another  illustration  of  our  doctrine 
of  loose  ende  ?  Are  not  the  evidences  left  in  this  condition  in 
order  that  we  each  may  find  our  own  evidences,  may  become  men 
of  faith  by  taking  all  the  risks  of  it,  the  risk-taking  being  part  of 
our  spiritual  education  ?  Coleridge  in  his  Aids  to  Reflection,  has 
put  it  all  in  a  nutshell :  "  Evidences  of  Christianity  ?  I  am  weary 
of  the  word.  Make  a  man  feel  the  want  of  it,  and  you  may  safely 
trust  to  its  own  evidences  !  " l 

5.  John  had  often  borne  testimony  to  Jesus,  and  Jesus  now 
bears  glad  witness  to  his  great  worth  and  work.  In  society  men 
are  commonly  praised  to  their  face,  or  the  faces  of  their  friends, 
and  blamed  behind  their  backs.  Jesus  does  the  opposite  in  the 
case  of  John.  Gossip  waits  only  till  the  door  is  shut  behind  a 
visitor  before  canvassing  every  defect  in  his  appearance  and 
ripping  up  the  seams  of  his  character.  Jesus  probably  knew 
that  the  bystanders  were  charging  the  Baptist  with  vacillation 
and  cowardice.  His  faith,  once  so  assured,  was  shaken ;  adversity 
had  broken  his  spirit.  In  the  minds  of  the  people,  now  that  the 
messengers  of  John  are  gone,  Jesus  will  not  seem  to  be  using 
words  of  fulsome  flattery.  It  is  clear  that  Jesus  was  not  willing 
for  the  inquiry  of  John  and  his  reply  to  have  the  effect  on  the 

1  J.  P.iiorley,  Faith's  Certainties,  44. 


JOHN  AND  HEROD  103 

crowd  of  depreciating  John.  Jesus  was  not  willing  for  the  people 
to  draw  injurious  inferences  from  what  had  just  occurred,  so  He 
began  at  once,  as  the  messengers  departed,  His  defence  of  John. 

The  opening  words — "What  went  ye  out  into  the  wilderness 
for  to  see  ?  A  reed  shaken  with  the  wind  ?  But  what  went  ye 
out  for  to  see  ?  A  man  clothed  in  soft  raiment  ?  Behold,  they 
which  are  gorgeously  apparelled,  and  live  delicately,  are  in  kings' 
courts  " — appear  intended  to  protect  John  from  the  unfavourable 
impressions  which  may  have  been  made  by  his  own  message. 
The  question,  "  Art  thou  he  that  should  come,  or  look  we  for 
another  ? "  might  have  suggested  in  John  a  certain  fickleness, 
when  contrasted  with  the  emphasis  of  his  earlier  testimony ;  and 
it  suggested  an  impatience  which  might  be  attributed  to  dissatis 
faction  with  the  hardships  which  he  was  enduring.  Was  John, 
then,  a  changeable  mortal,  sighing  for  release  and  comfort  ?  From 
such  a  caricature  Jesus  lifted  the  minds  of  the  listeners  to  the 
image  of  the  real  John,  as  he  appeared  in  the  days  of  his  prime. 

U  How  little  can  we  realize  what  a  tremendous  force  is 
wielded  by  the  concentrated  will  of  a  man  wholly  convinced  of 
the  Supreme  Keality  before  whom  he  stands,  and  bending  all  his 
deepest  faculties  in  a  mighty  longing  for  an  object  "  inwrought " 
within  his  soul  by  the  Spirit  of  God  !  A  force  as  real  as  that  which 
bears  the  electric  message  through  the  ether,  and  far  more  wonder 
ful,  is  in  the  hands  of  God  to  direct  at  His  will.  Is  it  strange  that 
it  should  prevail  ?  Describing  the  pre-eminent  greatness  of  John 
the  Baptist,  our  Lord  singled  out  the  fact  that  he  first  taught  men 
to  "  force  on  "  the  Kingdom  of  heaven  (Matt.  xi.  12).  He  and 
those  who  entered  into  his  teaching  were  not  minded  to  wait 
passively  for  a  heavenly  inheritance  that  might  or  might  not 
come  after  long  ages :  like  bandits  they  would  "  take  it  by  force." 
The  original  form  and  meaning  of  this  saying  cannot  be  recovered 
with  certainty,  but  the  paraphrase  I  have  given  seems  to  present 
the  most  probable  view  of  it.1 

II. 

THK  DEATH  OF  JOHN. 

The  final  scene  presented  in  the  narrative  of  John  is  the  one 
preceding  and  immediately  connected  with  his  martyrdom. 

1  J.  II.  Moulton,  Religions  and  Jieliyivn,  200. 


104  JOHN  THE  BAPTIST 

1.  Herod  Antipas,  to  whom,  on  the  death  of  Herod  the  Great, 
had  fallen  the  tetrarchy  of  Galilee,  was  about  as  weak  and  miser 
able  a  prince  as  ever  disgraced  the  throne  of  an  afflicted  country. 
Gruel,  crafty,  and  voluptuous  like  his  father,  he  was,  unlike  him, 
weak  in  war  and  vacillating  in  peace.     In  him,  as  in  so  many 
characters   which   stand   conspicuous   on    the   stage   of    history, 
infidelity  and  superstition  went  hand  in  hand.     But  the  terrors 
of  a  guilty  conscience  did  not  save  him  from  the  criminal  extrava 
gances  of  a  violent  will.     He  was  a  man  in  whom  were  mingled 
the  worst  features  of  the  Eoman,  the  Oriental,  and  the  Greek. 

Yet  even  this  man  heard  John  gladly,  and  did  many  things 
because  of  him.  Even  Herod  was  not  all  bad.  Deep  down,  under 
all  the  hard  crust  of  evil  that  had  covered  over  his  life,  there  was 
something  that  could  yet  be  touched.  His  eye  could  be  made  to 
see  fair  visions  of  a  life  unlike  his  own,  visions  which  he  would 
long  to  clutch  and  keep.  He  was  able  to  wish  his  past  undone. 
Moods  of  tenderness,  for  long  unwonted,  returned.  There  were 
moments  when  he  felt  broken.  He  longed  to  escape  the  entangle 
ments  which  bad  men  and  worse  women  had  woven  around  him. 
Such  moods  were  perhaps  temporary ;  he  forgot  them,  and  became 
again  what  he  had  been  before.  Such  moods  we  all  have  at  times  ; 
and  we  often  wonder  what  their  meaning  may  be,  what  worth 
they  have  in  God's  sight,  what  possibilities  may  be  in  them  for 
ourselves. 

But  "  our  pleasant  vices,"  it  has  been  well  said,  are  made 
"  instruments  to  plague  us."  From  the  moment  that  he  carried 
away  his  brother's  wife  there  began  for  Herod  Antipas  a  series  of 
annoyances  and  misfortunes  which  culminated  only  in  his  death, 
years  afterwards,  in  discrowned  royalty  and  unpitied  exile. 

2.  The  Baptist  had  no  cause  to  apprehend  immediate  danger 
from  Herod ;  but  behind  the  tetrarch  there  stood  another  figure, 
whose  attitude  was  ominous.     This  was  Herodias.     What  Jezebel 
was  to  Elijah  in  the  Old  Testament,  Herodias  was  to  the  Elijah 
of  the  New  Testament.     She  was  worse.     Elijah  escaped  from  the 
deadly  hate  of  Jezebel,  and,  as  he  had  prophesied,  her  bones  were 
devoured  by  the  dogs  of  Jezreel ;  but  John  did  not   escape  the 
vengeance  of  his  enemy. 

i[  It  has  often   been  said  that    women   are  like  the  tigs  of 


JOHN   AND  HEROD  105 

Jeremiah :  when  good,  they  are  very  good,  but  when  had,  they  are 
very  bad. 

For  men  at  most  differ  as  heaven  and  earth, 
But  women,  worst  and  best,  as  heaven  and  hell.1 

3.  Herodias  had  very  good  reasons  for  hating  John ;  for  if 
Herod  put  her  away  as  John  advised,  where  was  she  to  go  ? 
For  her  the  enjoyment  and  glory  of  life  were  over  for  ever.  A 
woman's  hatred  is  different  from  a  man's.  It  sees  its  purpose 
straight  before  it,  and  no  scruple  is  allowed  to  stand  in  its  way. 
Herod,  bad  man  as  he  was,  feared  John  and  reverenced  him.  Not 
so  Herodias ;  for  her  there  was  no  halo  round  the  prophet's  head. 
Either  he  must  die  or  she  be  banished  from  the  sunshine,  a  dis 
graced  and  ruined  woman ;  and  she  did  not  hesitate  a  moment 
between  the  alternatives. 

The  birthday  of  Antipas  had  come  round,  and,  to  celebrate 
the  occasion,  he  summoned  his  leading  nobles  and  officers  to  a 
banquet  in  the  princely  castle  of  Machaerus.  In  the  midst  of  the 
revel  an  unexpected  diversion  was  introduced  by  Herodias.  She  had, 
by  the  husband  whom  she  had  so  shamelessly  abandoned,  a  daughter 
named  Salome,  who  by  and  by  became  the  wife  of  Philip  the 
tctrarch  of  Trachonitis.  The  young  princess,  a  mere  girl  some 
seventeen  years  of  age,  was  sent  by  her  wicked  mother  into  the 
banquet-chamber  to  entertain  the  wine-inflamed  company  by 
executing  a  lewd  dance  before  their  lascivious  eyes.  It  was  a 
Hhameless  performance,  unbefitting  alike  a  princess  and  a  maiden. 
Nevertheless  it  evoked  rapturous  applause,  and  the  gratified  host 
assumed  an  air  of  maudlin  magnificence.  He  was  only  a  humble 
vassal  of  Home,  but  in  popular  parlance  he  was  styled  "  the 
King,"  a  reminiscence  of  the  days  of  Herod  the  Great ;  and  his 
vain  soul  loved  the  title.  He  summoned  the  girl  before  him,  and, 
sublimely  oblivious  of  the  fact  that  he  durst  not  dispose  of  a  single 
acre  of  his  territory  without  the  Emperor's  sanction,  vowed,  in  a 
strain  of  Oriental  munificence,  to  grant  whatever  boon  she  might 
crave,  were  it  half  of  his  kingdom.  She  went  out  and  consulted 
with  ber  mother,  and  that  wicked  woman,  exulting  in  the  success 
of  her  stratagem,  bade  her  request  the  head  of  John  the  Baptist 
served  up,  like  some  dainty  viand,  on  a  trencher.  The  tetrarcb 

1  J.  Stalker,  The  Two  St.  Johns,  277. 


io6  JOHN  THE  BAPTIST 

was  deeply  distressed,  and  would  gladly  have  withdrawn  from  his 
engagement ;  but,  according  to  that  age's  code  of  honour,  he  durst 
not,  and  sorely  against  his  will  he  sent  an  executioner  to  behead 
the  prophet  in  his  cell.  The  deed  was  done,  and  the  dripping  head 
was  brought  on  a  trencher  into  the  banquet-hall  and  presented  to 
Salome.  She  bore  the  ghastly  trophy  to  Herod ias ;  and  it  is  said 
that,  not  content  with  feasting  her  eyes  upon  it,  that  she-devil 
emulated  the  barbarity  of  Fulvia  and  pierced  with  a  bodkin  the 
once  eloquent  tongue  which  had  denounced  her  sin. 

Just  for  the  sake  of  them  that  sat  with  him 
At  meat,  King  Herod  kept  his  sinful  oath 
And  slew  the  Baptist,  though  his  heart  was  loth 

To  crown  his  record  with  a  crime  so  grim. 

We  live  in  fuller  day ;  his  light  was  dim : 
Yet  oftentimes  we  make  high  heaven  wroth 
By  deeds  which  stay  our  souls'  eternal  growth, 

To  satisfy  some  senseless,  social  whim. 

We  laugh  with  flippant  scorn  at  what  full  well 
We  know  we  should  adore  on  bended  knees; 
We  trample  our  ideals  'neath  our  feet: 

And  this  for  no  great  cause  approved  of  hell, 
Which  devils  might  applaud;  but  just  to  please 
The  whims  of  them  that  sit  with  us  at  meat.1 

4.  Wherein  lay  the  greatness  of  John,  and  what  was  the  work 
he  did  ?  His  greatness  lay  largely  perhaps  in  his  genuineness,  in 
the  grasp  of  reality  which  he  had  of  human  life.  He  saw  it  in  its 
simplicity  and  its  reality.  He  laid  an  emphasis  on  sin  and  duty. 
He  was  a  man  who  looked  behind  conventionalities,  and  stripped 
off  coverings,  and  showed  men  as  they  are.  But  if  this  had  been 
all,  he  would  not  have  been  the  greatest  of  those  born  of  women. 
The  painter  who  paints  reality  merely,  however  graphic  and  power 
ful  his  delineation  may  be,  fulfils  only  half  his  task.  He  must 
also  teach  us  by  showing  us  what  should  be,  what  might  be.  Nay, 
we  look  that  he  should  be  in  some  sense  prophetic,  and  encourage 
us  with  visions  of  what  will  be  in  a  better  future.  It  is  not  the 
real,  but  the  ideal,  in  art  and  in  all  things,  in  which  power  to 
make  us  better  resides. 

And  John  did  not  merely  show  what  men  are,  or  what  they 
1  E.  T.  Fowler,  Love's  Argument,  136. 


JOHN  AND  HEROD  107 

should  he  ;  he  had  visions  of  what  they  were  to  be,  of  what  God 
was  about  to  make  them.  He  had  presentiments  of  a  Divine 
day,  which  was  about  to  dawn.  He  did  not  tell  men  their  duty 
merely,  and  leave  them  with  the  impossible  task  of  fulfilling  it. 
He  knew  that  power  to  fulfil  it  came  from  on  high ;  and  he  was 
gifted  to  perceive  that  the  power  was  at  hand,  and  about  to  be 
revealed.  He  showed  men  not  earthly  things  only,  but  heavenly 
things.  He  did  not  say  "  Repent,"  but  "  Repent,  for  the  kingdom 
of  heaven  is  at  hand."  "  I  baptize  with  water  :  but  there  standeth 
one  among  you,  who  will  baptize  with  the  Holy  Ghost  and  with 
fire.  Behold  the  Lamb  of  God,  which  taketh  away  the  sin  of  the 
world,"  he  said,  pointing  to  Christ. 

Like  Moses  preparing  Joshua  to  lead  his  people  into  a  land 
which  he  himself  may  see  only  from  afar ;  like  David  preparing 
the  materials  with  which  Solomon  may  build  the  temple  which  he 
himself  had  longed  to  build,  but  which  is  never  to  bear  his  name ; 
like  every  true  prophet  who  has  the  "  intuitive  grasp  of  novelty, 
whose  mind  discerns,  though  it  may  not  understand,  the  coming 
of  a  change  long  before  it  can  be  known  by  other  men,"  John  the 
Baptist,  that  strange  figure  watching  and  waiting  in  the  desert  for 
some  mighty  event  which  his  heightened  powers  could  feel  in  its 
approach,  but  could  not  see,  remains  the  type  of  self-effacement, 
the  type  of  a  passing  generation  which  can  recognize  the  rise  of 
new  ideals  and  nobler  aims,  and  leave  them  room  to  develop  in 
God's  own  time. 

It  is  this  that  makes  men  great,  whatever  they  be,  whether 
inventors  or  statesmen — the  vision  of  the  future,  of  possibilities 
which  men  cannot  yet  realize.  And  especially  here  lies  the 
greatness  of  the  preacher — in  his  sensibility  to  the  nearness  of 
something  not  yet  manifest,  to  a  revelation  of  Christ  which 
is  at  hand — that,  in  all  he  is  doing,  he  feels  himself  on  the 
marge,  on  the  outskirts,  of  a  great  manifestation  of  Christ, 
when  He  shall  baptize  with  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  take  away  the 
sin  of  the  world.  And  this  is  his  message  still  to  us.  God  has 
come  nigh.  The  Redeemer  is  here.  Receive  Him.  The  Kingdom 
of  God  is  among  you.  The  door  is  open.  Enter  in,  that  you  may 
see  the  light. 

"  The  word  of  God  came  to  John  in  the  wilderness."  This  is 
the  irony  of  the  situation,  that  through  this  fanatic  in  the  wilds  of 


io8  JOHN  THE   BAPTIST 

Judaea  came  an  uprising  of  spiritual  force,  a  shattering  word  of 
God  which  has  run  on  from  that  day  to  this.  Not  from  the 
throne  of  all  the  Caesars,  not  from  the  haughty  tributaries  of 
empire,  not  from  the  priestly  circle  at  Jerusalem,  although 
Herod's  splendid  temple  was  their  shrine,  and  a  great  inheritance 
seemed  to  invest  them  with  authority,  but  from  a  rude,  passionate 
soul,  touched  with  flame.  Not  all  the  dignities  of  that  age  could 
produce  one  authentic  word  of  God  possessing  permanence  and 
revelation ;  not  one  influence  that  had  within  it  the  powers  of  a 
world  to  come.  But  it  was  given  to  this  man  to  see  the  heavens 
opened,  and  the  Spirit  descending  like  a  dove  upon  the  Son  of 
Man.  That  was  the  supreme  event,  at  that  historical  juncture,  as 
the  spiritual  event  must  always  be,  even  in  the  most  dazzling 
periods  of  secular  splendour.  You  may  conclude  that  you  have 
failed  to  analyze  any  great  movement  that  means  progress  or 
enlightenment  until  you  can  lay  your  finger  here  and  there  and 
say,  "  There  came  the  spirit  and  the  word  of  God." 

TI  John  the  Baptist,  that  strange  figure  watching  and  waiting 
in  the  desert  for  some  mighty  event  which  his  heightened  powers 
could  feel  in  its  approach  but  could  not  see,  is  the  real  link 
between  two  levels  of  humanity.  Freed  by  his  ascetic  life  from 
the  fetters  of  the  obvious,  his  intuitive  faculties  nourished  by  the 
splendid  dreams  of  Hebrew  prophecy,  and  by  a  life  at  once  wild 
and  holy,  which  kept  him  closer  than  other  men  to  the  natural 
and  the  supernatural  worlds,  he  felt  the  new  movement,  the  new 
direction  of  life.  Though  its  meaning  might  be  hidden,  its 
actuality  was  undeniable.  Something  was  coming.  This  convic 
tion  flooded  his  consciousness,  "inspired"  him;  became  the 
dominant  fact  of  his  existence.  "  A  message  from  God  came  upon 
John,"  speaking  without  utterance  in  the  deeps  of  his  soul.  He 
was  driven  to  proclaim  it  as  best  he  could ;  naturally  under  the 
traditional  and  deeply  significant  images  of  the  Jewish  Scriptures 
and  apocalyptic  books.  Hence  he  was  really  its  Forerunner,  the 
preparer  of  the  Way.  ...  If  he  is  to  be  taken  as  a  true  harbinger, 
as  an  earnest  of  the  quality  of  the  Christian  life  ;  then,  how 
romantic,  how  sacramental — above  all,  how  predominantly  ascetic 
— that  life  must  seem !  Nothing  here  forecasts  the  platitudinous 
ethics  of  modern  theology.  Deliberate  choice,  deep-seated  change, 
stern  detachment,  a  humble  preparation  for  the  great  re-making 
of  tilings :  no  comfortable  compromise,  or  agreeable  trust  in  a 
vicarious  salvation.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  in  the  lives  of  that  small 


JOHN  AND  HEROD  109 

handful  in  whom  the  (teculiar  Christian  consciousness  lias  been 
developed,  the  demands  of  John  the  Baptist  were  always  fulfilled 
before  the  results  promised  by  Jesus  were  experienced.  Asceti 
cism  was  the  gateway  to  mysticism ;  and  the  secret  of  the  King 
dom  was  only  understood  by  those  who  had  (in  the  literal  meaning 
of  the  Greek  of  Matt.  iii.  2)  "changed  their  minds."1 

Thine,  Baptist,  was  the  cry, 
In  ages  long  gone  by, 

Heard  in  clear  accents  by  the  Prophet's  ear  ; 
As  if  'twere  thine  to  wait, 
And  with  imperial  state 

Herald  some  Eastern  monarch's  proud  career; 
Who  thus  might  march  his  host  in  full  array, 
And  speed  through  trackless  wilds  his  uuresisted  way. 

But  other  task  hadst  thou 
Than  lofty  hills  to  bow, 

Make  straight  the  crooked,  the  rough  places  plain : 
Thine  \\as  the  harder  part 
To  smooth  the  human  heart, 
The  wilderness  where  sin  had  fixed  his  reign; 
To  make  deceit  his  mazy  wiles  forego, 
Bring  down  high   vaulting  pride,  and  lay  ambition  lo\\. 

Such,  Baptist,  was  thy  care, 
That  no  objection  there 

Might  check  the  progress  of  the  King  of  kings; 
But  that  a  clear  highway, 
Might  welcome  the  array, 

Of  Heavenly  graces  which  His  Presence  brings  ; 
And  where  Repentance  had  prepared  the  road, 
There   Faith  might  enter  in,  and  Love  to  man  and  God.- 

1  E.  Underbill,  The  Mystic  Way,  85. 
1  Kii'lianl  Mant,  in  Lyra  AftssUiHu-n. 


ANDREW. 


LITERATURE. 

Banks,  L.  A.,  Christ  and  His  Friends  (1895),  56. 

Brooke,  S.  A.,  The  Spirit  of  the  Christian  Life  (1902),  20-1. 

Cuckson,  J.,  Faith  and  Fellowship  (1897),  223. 

Deane,  A.  C.,  At  the  Master's  Side  (1905),  1. 

Greenhough,  J.  G.,  in  Men  of  the  New  Testament  :  Matthew  to  Timothy 

(1905),  81. 

Hancock,  B.  M.,  Free  Bondmen  (1913),  52. 
Jones,  J.  D.,  The  Glorious  Company  of  the  Apostles  (1904),  87. 
Lightfoot,  J.  B.,  Sermons  PreacJied  on,  Special  Occasions  (18U1),  }t*., 
Lovell,  R.  H.,  First  Types  of  the  Christian  Life  (1895),  82. 
Maclaren,  A.,  A  Year's  Ministry,  ii.  (1888)  127. 
Morgan,  G.  C.,  Discipleship  (1898),  1. 
Pearce,  E.  H.,  The  Laws  oj  tlie  Earliest  Gospel  (1913),  5. 
Punshon,  W.  M.,  Sermons  (1882),  1. 
Purves,  G.  T.,  Faith  and  Life  (1902),  271. 
Rattenbury,  J.  E.,  The  Twelve  (1914),  91. 
Sidey,  W.  W.,  Tlic  First  Christian  Fellowship  (1908),  1. 
Skrine,  J.  H.,  Saints  and  Worthies  (1901),  15. 
Biblical  World,  xxxiii.  (1909)  314  (E.  Gates). 
Dictionary  of  the  Bible,  i.  (1898)  92  (M.  R.  James). 
Smith's  Dictionary  of  the  Bible,  i.  (1893)  128  (E.  R.  Bernard). 


ANDREW. 

And  passing  along  by  the  sea  of  Galilee,  he  saw  Simon  and  Andrew  tr.e 
brother  of  Simon  casting  a  net  in  the  sea  :  for  they  were  fishers.  And  Jesus 
said  unto  them,  Come  ye  after  me,  and  I  will  make  you  to  become  fishers 
of  men.—  Mark  i.  16,  17. 

WHEN  .Jesus  emerged  from  His  private  life  to  enter  upon  ihe 
work  <>f  His  public  ministry,  He  was  without  followers  or  adher 
ents  of  any  sort.  No  existing  ready-for-work  society  or  church 
awaited  Him  or  welcomed  His  coming.  A  certain  group  of  Jews 
had  been  aroused  by  the  preaching  of  John  the  Baptist  into  a 
fresh  Messianic  expectancy  of  a  moral  rather  than  a  political  sort. 
In  this  circle  Jesus  tirst  appeared,  and  here  was  the  only  soil  in 
any  wise  prepared  for  His  teaching.  He  did  not  so  much  as 
succeed  to  the  leadership  of  the  rudimentary  society  brought 
together  by  John.  Out  of  this  society,  however,  Ho  gathered  His 
first  disciples.  Probably  most  of  the  disciples  of  John  passed  over 
to  the  company  of  Jesus  finally,  but  only  after  the  gradual  dissolu 
tion  of  John's  society.  One  of  the  very  first  to  pass  from  John  to 
Jesus  was  Andrew. 

In  the  first  three  Gospels  Andrew  is  only  a  name.  We  know 
nothing  more  about  him  than  that  he  was  the  brother  of  Peter ; 
but,  as  in  the  case  of  several  of  the  obscure  Apostles,  St.  John 
gives  us  some  insight  into  the  character  and  work  of  Andrew. 
We  know  that  he  was  a  fisherman,  the  brother_of  Simon  Pt»f:erT 
the  son  of  Jonas.  Wo  know  that  he  was  already  one  of  john_  the 
Baptist's  disciples  when  Jesus  began  His  work,  and  that  he  was 
one  of  I/he  first  two  disciples  of  Jesus.  He,  along  with  John, 
heard  the  great  words  of  the  Baptist,  "  Behold,  the  Lamb  of  God, 
which  taketh  away  the  sin  of  the  world";  and  these  two  disciples, 
hearing  him  speak,  followed  Jesus.  "  Jesus  turned,  and  beheld 
them  following,  and  saith  unto  them,  What  seek  ye?  And  they 
Bui-1  unto  him,  Rabbi  (which  is  to  say,  being  interpreted,  Master), 

MARY-SIMON — 8 


ii4  ANDREW 

where  abidest  thou  ?  He  saith  unto  them,  Come,  and  ye  shall  see. 
They  came  therefore  and  saw  where  he  abode;  and  they  abode 
with  him  that  day :  it  was  about  the  tenth  hour."  Andrew 
thenceforth  ranked  himself  as  a  believer  in  Jesus  of  Nazareth  ; 
and  on  the  very  day  of  his  own  acceptance  of  Jesus,  he  brought 
his  brother  Simon  Peter  to  the  Master. 

Thereafter  we  hear  of  this  Apostle  on  only  four  ^occasions. 
When  the  Galilsean  ministry  of  Jesus  was  beginning,  He  called 
these  men,  whose  faith  He  had  already  won,  to  be  His  constant 
followers  ;  and  He  marked  their  call  by  the  miraculous  draught 
of  fishes,  which  symbolized  so  well  the  task  to  which  He  was 
calling  them  and  the  power  by  which  He  would  give  them  success. 
We  are  told  that  Andrew,  as  well  as  Peter,  obeyed  the  summons, 
left  all,  and  followed  Jesus  in  order  to  be  a  "  fisher  of  men." 
When,  again,  the  public  ministry  of  Jesus  was  about  half  finished, 
He  performed  on  the  east  shore  of  the  Sea  of  Galilee  that  wonder 
ful  act  of  feeding,  from  a  few  loaves  and  fishes,  five  thousand  men. 
St.  John,  whose  clear  memory  often  appears  in  such  particulars  as 
this,  tells  us  that  when  the  disciples  were  asked  by  Jesus  how 
that  vast  multitude  could  be  fed,  Andrew  replied,  with  a  vague 
feeling,  probably,  that,  absurd  as  the  provision  seemed,  it  might 
be  a  help,  or  at  least  a  starting-point,  for  other  supplies  :  "  There 
is  a  lad  here,  which  hath  five  barley  loaves,  and  two  small  fishes : 
but  what  are  they  among  so  many  ? "  Again,  when  the  ministry 
of  Jesus  was  nearing  its  close,  certain  Greeks  wished  to  see  the 
new  Messiah,  and  applied  to  Philip.  Philip  consulted  Andrew 
and  together  Andrew  and  Philip  told  Jesus.  And,  finally,  when 
Christ  gave  on  Mount  Olivet  to  a  few  disciples  that  solemn  pre 
diction  of  the  future, — of  the  fall  of  Jerusalem,  and  the  troubles 
and  persecutions  which  were  impending,  and  of  the  end  of  the 
world  itself, — we  read  not  only  that  Peter  and  John  and  James 
were  present, — those  three  whom  so  often  Jesus  took  into  special 
confidence, — but  also  that  Andrew  shared  on  this  occasion  the  sad 
privilege  of  listening  to  the  terrible  prophecy. 

With  these  few  items  our  knowledge  of  the  Apostle  Andrew 
ends.  Let  us  consider  him  as  Disciple,  us  Missionary,  and  as 
Brother. 


ANDREW  n 


*f& 


THE  DISCIPLE. 

"  Disciple  "  is  the  term  consistently  used  in  the  four  Gospels  to 
mark  the  relationship  existing  between  Christ  and  His  followers. 
Jesus  used  it  Himself  in  speaking  of  them,  and  they  in  speaking 
of  each  other.  Neither  did  it  pass  out  of  use  in  the  new  days 
of  Pentecostal  power.  It  rims  right  through  the  Acts  of  the 
Apostles.  It  is  interesting  also  to  rememher  that  it  was  on  this 
wise  that  the  angels  thought  and  spoke  of  these  men :  the  use  of 
the  word  in  the  days  of  the  Incarnation  is  linked  to  the  use  of  the 
word  in  the  Apostolic  Age  by  the  angelic  message  to  the  women, 
"  Go,  tell  his  disciples  and  Peter  "  (Mark  xvi.  7). 

It  is  somewhat  remark.ible  that  the  word  is  not  to  be  found  in 
the  Epistles.  This  is  to  be  accounted  for  by  the  fact  that  the 
Epistles  were  addressed  to  Christians  in  their  corporate  capacity 
as  churches,  and  so  spoke  of  them  as  members  of  such,  and  as  the 
"  saints,"  or  separated  ones  of  God.  The  term  "  disciple  "  marks  an 
individual  relationship ;  and  though  it  has  largely  fallen  out  of 
use,  it  is  of  the  utmost  value  still  in  marking  the  relationship 
existing  between  Christ  and  each  single  soul,  and  suggesting  our 
consequent  position  in  all  the  varied  circumstances  of  everyday 
living. 

T|  Lads  to  be  afterwards  notable  as  Lord  Palmerston,  Lord  John 
Russell,  Lord  Dudley  and  Ward,  who  had  as  class-mates  Henry 
Brougham,  Francis  Homer,  Henry  Cockburn,  and  Francis  Jeffrey, 
were  among  the  students  then  attending  Edinburgh  University. 
These  men  looked  fondly  back  in  their  older  years  to  those 
delightful  days  of  plain  living  and  high  thinking  in  Edinburgh, 
where  they  studied  under  Playfair  and  Kobison  and  Dalziel.  But 
it  was  Dugald  Stewart,  the  Professor  of  Moral  Philosophy,  whom 
they  regarded  as  their  master,  as  he  set  forth  fine  moral  aims  and 
ideals — especially  when  discussing  the  application  of  ethics  to  the 
principles  of  government  and  the  conduct  of  citizens  in  political 
life.  As  Henry  Cockburn  listened  in  his  boyhood  to  the  per 
suasive  eloquence,  he  felt  his  whole  nature  changed  by  his  teacher: 
"  his  noble  views  unfolded  in  glorious  sentences  elevated  me  into 
a  higher  world."  Francis  Homer  was  touched  and  moved  to 
admiration  ;  and  it  was  the  inculcating  of  high  moral  purpose  on 


n6  ANDREW 

men  and  citizens  which  influenced  young  men  who  had  a  public 
career  before  them.  As  Sir  James  Mackintosh  said,  Lhigald 
Stewart's  disciples  were  his  best  works.1 

1.  Why  did  Jesus  attach  disciples  to  Him  ?  The  answer  may 
be  given  that  it  was  partly  for  His  own  sake  and  partly  for  theirs 
and  for  what  they  could  do  in  the  spread  of  the  gospel. 

(1)  What  they  could  do  for  Him. — He  was  not,  indeed,  one  who 
needed  attendance  and  service;  His  personal  wants  were  few, 
His  life  the  simplest.  But  there  were  many  things  in  which  they 
would  minister  to  Him  and  aid  Him,  sparing  His  strength,  reliev 
ing  His  toil,  and  so  helping  on  His  work.  In  the  ardour  of  His 
Divine  zeal  He  was  capable  of  forgetting  the  claims  of  the  body, 
and  they  had  sometimes  to  constrain  Him,  saying,  "  Master,  eat." 
If,  after  a  day  of  labour  and  excitement,  with  heavy  incessant 
demands  upon  Him,  evening  came  and  found  Him  spent  and 
weary,  He  needed  but  to  say, "  Let  us  go  over  unto  the  other  side," 
and  they  did  all  the  rest :  they  brought  the  boat  to  the  nearest 
landing-place,  and  He  stepped  aboard  and  was  their  passenger. 
Some  of  them  were  skilful  fishermen  as  well  as  faithful  friends, 
and  He  might  trust  Himself  to  their  hands.  If  the  wind  served 
they  would  run  up  the  sail ;  if  not,  they  rowed,  taking  turns  with 
the  oars ;  and  it  pleased  them  well  if,  wearied  with  His  work,  and 
soothed  by  the  motion  of  the  boat  and  the  breeze  upon  the  lake, 
He  fell  asleep,  to  wake  only  when  the  boat's  keel  grated  upon  the 
shingle  at  the  place  where  He  would  be. 

Nor  was  this  the  only  kind  of  service  they  could  render  Him. 
From  a  very  early  period  He  had  enemies,  and  feeling  was  often 
stirred  to  violence  as  He  spoke.  Again  and  again  there  were 
fierce  fanatics  in  the  crowds  that  thronged  and  pressed  Him. 
Sometimes,  it  may  be,  a  solitary  teacher  would  not  have  been 
safe,  where  He,  with  His  Twelve  about  Him,  was  left  in  peace. 
Christ  Himself,  we  know,  was  absolutely  fearless,  and  had  an 
extraordinary  power  of  quelling  the  rising  storm  in  men's  hearts 
as  well  as  upon  the  lake.  Still,  for  the  sake  of  His  work — that 
He  might  finish  it,  and  deliver  all  His  message — it  may  be  that 
it  was  well  for  Him  that  He  sat  surrounded  by  these  staunch 
friends  when  He  spoke  the  words  which  "  half  concealed  and  half 
revealed  "  His  tremendous  claims,  or  when  He  hurled  His  deuun- 

1  H.  O.  Graham,  Scottish  Men  of  Letters  in  the  Eighteenth  Century,  426, 


ANDREW  117 

ciations  at  scribes  and  Pharisees.  But  probably  such  service  was 
not  the  best  of  the  help  they  gave  Him.  Just  to  be  with  Him, 
to  make  an  atmosphere  of  sympathy  about  Him,  to  constitute  a 
spiritual  home  into  which  He  could  retreat  from  the  strife  of 
tongues,  and  rest  and  recover  Himself — perhaps  this  was  the  chief 
of  all  the  service  by  which  they  helped  Him  then. 

(2)  What  He  could  do  for  them.— What  they  might  do  for  Him, 
however,  does  not  explain  the  calling  of  the  Twelve.  For  all  the 
personal  service  they  rendered  Him,  fewer  would  certainly  have 
sufficed.  It  was  much  more  for  the  sake  of  what  He  could  do  for 
them,  and  with  a  view  to  a  great  service  of  the  future,  that  they 
were  with  Him.  He  was  a  Teacher ;  He  traversed  the  land  pro 
claiming  to  all  men  His  gospel,  and  that  Kingdom  of  which  He 
was  the  King;  the.se  went  with  Him  that  they  might  hear  all 
His  truth.  In  place  after  place  they  listened  while  He  taught. 
They  heard  the  gospel  in  Galilee;  they  heard  it,  in  different 
accents,  in  Samaria  ;  they  heard  it  in  Judica  and  in  Jerusalem,  and 
again  the  tone  was  new,  for  it  was  a  many-sided  gospel.  They 
heard  Him  preach  His  Kingdom  in  various  aspects:  now  it  was 
a  spiritual  state,  a  community  in  which  God's  will  is  done  ;  now 
it  was  a  power  which  goes  out  in  effort  to  get  that  will  done,  an 
influence  which  had  come  into  the  world,  mixing  with  human 
affairs,  permeating  them,  leavening  them,  charging  them  with  its 
own  Divine  redeeming  qualities ;  and  now  again  it  was  the  pri/e 
of  life,  man's  chief  good,  his  supreme  treasure  and  reward.  They 
heard  all  His  teaching;  they  alone  of  all  His  hearers  obtained  a 
complete  view  of  His  truth. 

Some  part  of  it  indeed  was  reserved  specially  for  them.  When 
night  fell,  and  the  crowd  of  common  hearers  dispersed,  they 
gathered  round  Him  in  some  humble  home,  and  He  taught  them, 
and  His  thought  grew  ever  more  luminous  and  wonderful.  As 
they  journeyed  from  town  to  town,  beguiling  the  tedium  of  the 
way,  He  taught  them,  and  the  bright  flowers  bloomed  unnoticed  by 
the  wayside  where  they  passed,  for  they  hung  upon  Him  listen 
ing,  and  their  hearts  burned  within  them  while  He  spoke.  It  was 
His  will  to  entrust  His  truth  to  them,  to  make  them  the  deposi 
taries  and  stewards  of  it,  that  through  them,  by  and  by,  it  might 
be  for  nil.  Meanwhile  they  have  to  listen  and  learn,  and  store 
up  in  heart  and  mind  His  teachings;  and  in  order  that  Uu.-y 


ii8  ANDREW 

may  do  so  they  must  be  with  Him  through  all  the  days  of  His 
ministry. 

And  there  is  something  else,  of  chiefest  moment,  yet  unnamed. 
They  were  learning  His  truth.  His  mighty  works  were  teaching 
them,  but  He  Himself  was  greater  than  His  words  or  His  works ; 
and  as  they  lived  with  Him  day  by  day  they  came  to  know  Him, 
and  His  spirit  penetrated  them.  That  spirit  showed  itself  not 
only  in  His  public  teachings,  but  sometimes  more  beautifully  and 
impressively  still  in  simple  unconscious  acts  in  the  region  of  the 
private  life,  and  always  in  the  tone  and  character  of  their  inter 
course.  Slowly,  but  surely,  the  disciples  acquired  His  habits  of 
thought,  His  point  of  view,  His  instinctive  feeling.  To  the  end 
the  difference  rather  than  the  resemblance  may  strike  us ;  never 
theless  at  the  end  the  men  are  changed,  the  disciples  are  like 
their  Master. 

^|  Christ  is  not  merely  a  truth  to  be  believed,  but  a  way  to  be 
trodden,  a  life  to  be  lived.  We  get  to  know  Christ,  as  fellow- 
travellers,  fellow-workers,  fellow-soldiers  get  to  know  one  another, 
by  mingling  their  lives  together.  It  is  ever  in  what  we  know  to 
be  our  best  moods  that  we  find  ourselves  most  in  sympathy  with 
Christ ;  when  we  work  more  faithfully  by  the  light  of  conscience. 
It  is  in  what  we  know  are  our  worst  moods  that  the  light  of  faith 
begins  to  grow  dim  :  when  we  are  disturbed,  tempted,  distracted, 
out  of  sympathy  with  our  conscience.1 

2.  Whom  did  He  choose  ?  Was  it  the  wise  and  learned  ?  They 
would  have  tormented  the  simplicity  of  His  teaching  with  endless 
commentaries,  and  wrought  it  into  intellectual  schemes,  so  that 
the  shepherd  on  the  hill  and  the  slave  in  the  city  could  not  have 
understood  it.  Too  well  we  know  what  the  wisdom  of  the  world 
in  the  brains  of  the  priesthood  has  made  of  the  words  of  Christ. 
If  the  work  of  theologians  had  been  done  at  the  beginning  of 
Christianity,  we  should  have  had  no  simple  Christianity  at  all. 

Then  did  He  choose  the  rich  and  those  in  high  position  ?  No, 
truly,  that  would  not  have  been  wise.  For  they  would  have 
weighted  His  goodness  with  the  cares  and  deceitfulness  of  wealth, 
with  the  ambition  and  meanness  of  society.  And  what  could  rich 
men  have  done  with  a  doctrine  which  bade  them  give  away  wealth, 
which  told  the  business  man  to  take  no  thought  for  the  morrow, 
1  George  Tyrrell,  Oil  and  Wine. 


ANDREW  119 

which  said  to  the  courtier,  "Thero  is  only  one  King,  and  He  is  in 
heaven,"  which  told  the  man  in  society,  "  There  is  only  one  nobility, 
and  the  slave  who  carries  your  litter  may  have  it  as  well  as  you  "  ? 

Did  He  choose  the  religious  leaders  ?  How  could  He  ?  They 
would  dissolve  His  charity,  His  mercy,  and  His  tolerance,  in  the 
acid  of  their  theological  hatreds.  They  would  cast  His  religion 
into  a  fixed  form  which  would  destroy  its  variety  and  flexibility 
so  that  it  could  not  enter  into  the  characters  of  diverse  nations 
and  become  the  universal  gospel ;  they  would  subject  it  to  their 
own  ecclesiastical  interests,  and  it  would  cease  to  be  the  interest 
of  mankind. 

Did  He  choose  the  politicians — those  among  the  Jews  who 
conspired  against  the  Romans,  or  those  who  held  to  the  Romans  ? 
Why  should  He  ?  That  would  have  made  His  gospel  a  gospel 
for  the  Jews  only,  and  not  for  Greek  and  Roman  and  barbarian. 
To  choose  the  politicians  would  have  been  to  propagate  His 
truth  by  political  craft  or  by  the  sword.  It  was  not  the  way 
of  Christ  to  set  up  the  Kingdom  of  God  by  the  worship  of  the 
devil. 

None  of  these  He  made  His  messengers.  He  chose  the 
unlearned  and  the  poor  and  the  outcast  of  the  theologians,  and 
the  uninterested  in  politics,  and  the  men  and  women  of  whom 
society  knew  nothing;  the  fisherman  and  the  publican,  the 
Pharisee  who  left  the  priestly  ranks,  the  rich  who  left  their  riches, 
the  Israelite  without  guile,  the  cottager,  the  sinner  and  the  harlot 
who  were  contrite,  but  chiefly — for  with  those  in  His  favourite 
haunts  He  most  companioned — the  fishermen  of  the  Lake  of 
Galilee. 

TJ  All  the  world  knows  how  in  the  fifth  century  a  few  fisher 
men  driven  from  the  mainland  laid  in  reefs  of  mud  and  sand  the 
foundation-stones  of  Venice.  These  heroic  souls  in  deep  desola 
tion  drove  stakes  and  built  their  huts  in  the  slime  of  the  lagoon  ; 
then  little  by  little  a  city  of  incomparable  splendour  rose  out  of 
the  sea — a  city  of  superb  palaces,  gorgeous  temples,  crowded 
marts,  of  museums,  picture  galleries,  and  libraries,  of  wonderful 
loveliness,  power,  and  riches:  the  ideal  shrine  of  poets  and 
painters,  of  all  worshippers  of  the  perfect  and  Divine.  Ho  another 
handful  of  fishermen  in  great  travail  laid  in  the  mud  and  misery 
of  the  old  world  the  foundation-stones  of  the  Church  of  Christ, 
the  City  of  God,  the  spiritual  Venice.  It  was  built  on  the  sea, 


120  ANDREW 

established  on  the  floods  ;  it  has  been  edified  through  agos  of  strife 
and  conflict.1 

3.  Two  things  alone  were  necessary  to  discipleship. 

(1)  Loyalty. — The  bond  of  union  was  to  be  nothing  less  than 
a  personal  attachment.     It  was  not  to  be  the  interest  which  a 
thinker  feels  in  his  thought  or  a  reformer  in  his  principles,  but 
the  devotion   of  a  disciple  for  his  Master.     Jesus   of   Nazareth, 
not   the  Messiah  of  Jewish  expectation,  or  the   Christ  of   later 
dogma,  still  less  the  floating  ideal  of  ages  of  Christian  sentiment, 
but  the  historical  Person  whose  life  is  recorded  in  the  Synoptic 
Gospels,  exercised  authority  and  commanded  obedience.     He  made 
loyalty  to  Him  the  sovereign  principle  of  discipleship. 

The  soul  of  all  religion,  and  especially  of  the  Christian  religion, 
is  loyalty  to  a  great  personality  who  images  to  the  imagination 
and  reverence  of  the  race  that  still  greater  personality,  other 
wise  unrevealed,  and  without  a  name.  It  is  allegiance  to  truth 
and  goodness,  not  as  these  are  formulated  in  abstract  propositions 
and  maxims,  but  as  they  are  incarnated  in  a  noble  life.  And  so 
it  may  be  said  that  Christianity  has  not  begun  for  the  individual 
or  the  community  until  both  have  given  to  its  Founder  a  con 
fidence  and  personal  attachment  they  would  be  ashamed  to  limit, 
and  equally  ashamed  not  to  confess  before  all  the  world. 
Nothing  can  take  the  place  of  this  high-born  fealty.  It  is  the 
very  life  of  the  Christian  faith,  the  inspiration  to  service  and 
sacrifice  without  which  men  will  never  be  induced  to  bear  loss 
and  suffering,  grief  and  reproach,  with  resignation  and  heroism. 

(2)  Teachableness. — The  loyalty  of  discipleship  must  precede 
understanding,  and  not  understanding  discipleship.     No  one  would 
pretend,  of  course,  that  the  closest  companionship  with  our  Lord 
in   this   life  will   completely   solve   the  problems  which  human 
existence  presents.     In  part  it  does  actually  solve  them ;  for  the 
rest,  it  enables  us,  as  nothing  else  can  do,  to  acquiesce  in  their 
being,  for   the    time,   insoluble.     The    Christian   alone   can    rest 
content  to  see  now  "  through  a  glass  darkly,"  because  he  alone  can 
hope  to  see  hereafter  "  face  to  face."     Yet  even  here  the  revelation 
given  to  those  who  persist  in  discipleship  is  wonderfully  full.     To 
them,  in  a  very  real  sense,  it  is  given  to  know  the  mysteries  of 
the  Kingdom  of  God,  but  to  others  in  parables.     Intellectually, 

1  W.  L.  Watkinson,  The  Supreme  Co-aqucst,  33. 


ANDREW  121 

these  others  may  he  much  superior  to  many  of  the  disciples. 
They  may  take  a  real  interest  in  religious  questions.  They  may 
have  studied  the  historical  and  moral  evidence  for  Christianity 
with  scrupulous  wire.  They  may  have  the  language  of  theology 
in  familiar  use.  And  yet  all  this  amounts  to  so  many  parables 
for  them ;  the  spiritual  words  they  utter  are  but  counters  in  a 
game  of  logic,  they  do  not  stand  for  glowing  realities  which 
penetrate  every  moment  of  life.  And  so  these  people  are  still 
dissatisfied.  When  this  or  that  difficulty  is  fully  explained,  then, 
they  declare,  they  will  be  only  too  glad  to  be  disciples.  Alas, 
they  still  regard  understanding  as  the  antecedent  condition  instead 
of  the  ultimate  result  of  discipleship !  Only  to  those  who  have 
sojourned  at  the  Master's  side  is  it  given  to  know  the  mysteries. 

Andrew's  lesson  began  the  very  first  day  he  spoke  to  Jesus. 
"  I  should  like,"  says  Dr.  J.  D.  Jones,  "  to  have  had  some  record 
of  what  took  place  in  our  Lord's  humble  lodging  that  night. 
When  I  think  of  our  Saviour's  wonderful  conversation  with  Nico- 
demus,  and  His  equally  wonderful  conversation  with  the  Samaritan 
woman  at  the  well,  I  feel  I  would  give  worlds  to  have  had  a 
report  of  the  conversation  that  took  place  between  Jesus  and 
these  seeking  souls  that  night.  It  would  be  a  never-to-be- 
forgotten  conversation,  I  know ;  and  just  as  Paul  used  to  look 
back  to  the  great  light  on  the  way  to  Damascus  as  the  supreme 
experience  of  his  life,  so  Andrew  and  John  used  to  date  every 
thing  back  to  this  their  first  conversation  with  Jesus.  I  do  not 
know  what  He  said ;  but  as  they  listened  to  Him,  their  hearts — 
like  that  of  John  Wesley  in  the  Moravian  meeting-house — were 
strangely  warmed,  and  before  they  left  that  night  they  had  found 
their  Messiah." 

1]  More  than  two  hundred  years  ago  there  was  a  young  pro 
bationer  in  the  Church  of  Scotland  named  Thomas  Boston.  He 
was  about  to  preach  before  the  parish  of  Simprin.  In  contempla 
tion  of  the  eventful  visit  he  sat  down  to  meditate  and  pray. 
"Reading  in  secret,  my  heart  was  touched  with  Matthew  iv.  19: 
1  Follow  me,  and  I  will  make  you  fishers  of  men.'  My  soul 
cried  out  for  the  accomplishing  of  that  to  me,  and  I  was  very 
desirous  to  know  how  1  might  follow  Christ  so  as  to  be  a  fiyher  of 
men,  and  for  my  own  instruction  in  that  point  I  addressed  myself 
to  the  consideration  of  it  in  that  manner."  Out  of  that  honest 
and  serious  consideration  there  came  that  quaint  and  spiritually 


122  ANDREW 

profound  and  suggestive  book,  A  Soliloquy  on  the  Art  of  Man- 
Fishing.  All  through  Thomas  Boston's  book  one  feels  the 
fervent  intensity  of  a  spirit  eager  to  know  the  mind  of  God  in 
the  great  matter  of  fishing  for  souls.  Without  that  passion  our 
inquiry  is  worthless.  "The  all-important  matter  in  fishing  is  to 
have  the  desire  to  learn." 1 

Of  all  the  honours  man  may  wear, 

Of  all  his  titles  proudly  stored, 
No  lowly  palm  this  name  shall  bear, 

"The  first  to  follow  Christ  the  Lord." 

Such  name  thou  hast,  who  didst  incline, 
Fired  with  the  great  Forerunner's  joy, 

Homeward  to  track  the  steps  divine, 
And  watch  the  Saviour's  best  employ.2 


II. 

THE  MISSIONARY. 

The  day  after  Andrew's  conversion  was  the  day  on  which  he 
became  a  soul-winner.  The  new-found  life  in  Christ  always  longs 
to  impart  itself.  The  wonderful  things  which  Christ  whispers  to 
a  man  in  secret  burn  within  him  until  he  can  tell  them  to  other 
ears.  When  the  pilgrim  in  Bunyan's  story  had  been  relieved  of 
his  burden,  as  he  knelt  before  the  Cross,  his  joy  was  so  great  that 
he  wanted  to  tell  it  to  the  trees  and  stars  and  water-brooks  and 
birds ;  to  breathe  it  out  to  everything  and  every  one. 

TJ  "  Let  the  redeemed  of  the  Lord  say  so,"  sings  one  Psalmist ; 
and  the  redeemed,  I  will  add,  simply  cannot  help  saying  so.  "  I 
have  not  hid  thy  righteousness  within  my  heart,  I  have  declared 
thy  righteousness  and  thy  salvation,"  sings  another  Psalmist. 
Yes,  when  a  man  has  experienced  the  salvation  of  God  the  word 
is  like  a  fire  in  his  bones,  and  he  must  declare  it.3 

^1  I  received  a  letter  from  a  very  sagacious  Scotch  friend 
(belonging,  as  I  suppose  most  Scotch  people  do,  to  the  class  of 
persons  who  call  themselves  "  religious  "),  containing  this  mar 
vellous  enunciation  of  moral  principle,  to  be  acted  upon  in  diffi- 

1  J.  H.  Jowett,  The  Passion  for  Souls,  59.  2  Dean  Alford. 

8  J.  D.  Jones,  The  Glorious  Company  of  (he  Apostles,  99. 


ANDREW  123 

cult  circumstances,  "  Mind  your  own  business."  It  is  a  service 
able  principle  enough  for  men  of  the  world,  but  a  surprising  one 
in  the  mouth  of  a  person  who  professes  to  be  a  Bible  obeyer. 
For,  as  far  as  I  remember  the  tone  of  that  obsolete  book,  "  our 
own  "  is  precisely  the  last  business  which  it  ever  tells  us  to  mind. 
It  tells  us  often  to  mind  God's  business,  often  to  mind  other  people's 
business ;  our  own,  in  any  eager  or  earnest  way,  not  at  all. 
"  What  thy  hand  findeth  to  do."  Yes ;  but  in  God's  fields,  not 
ours.  One  can  imagine  the  wiser  fishermen  of  the  Galilean  lake 
objecting  to  Peter  and  Andrew  that  they  were  not  minding  their 
business.1 

1.  What  was  the  power  that  made  Andrew  a  missionary  ?  It 
was  the  intensity  of  spirit  that  Christ  stirred  in  His  followers. 
He  had  the  prophet's  power  of  kindling  passion,  of  awaking 
youth  in  those  who  loved  Him.  When  He  spoke,  men  rose  from 
the  dead  !  And  of  course  they  did  great  things.  All  their  powers 
put  forth  leaves  and  blossoms  and  flowers.  These  who  saw  and 
heard  men  who  had  come  under  the  influence  of  Christ  wondered, 
as  one  who  has  seen  a  wood  in  winter  wonders  when  he  sees  the 
same  wood  in  spring.  They  took  notice  of  them,  it  is  said,  that 
they  had  been  with  Jesus.  The  mocking  crowd  thought  it  was 
new  wine,  but  it  was  the  new  wine  of  a  new  life.  It  made  men  a 
new  creation  in  Christ  Jesus. 

And  that  is  our  work.  Are  we  doing  it  with  all  our  heart  ? 
Is  it  our  first  thought  ?  Does  it  possess  our  soul  with  passion  ? 
Is  it  our  greatest  and  divinest  joy  to  save  and  rescue  men  for  God 
to  a  life  of  love,  purity,  sacrifice,  progress,  and  immortality  ?  My 
work  !  I  say.  How  can  that  be  ?  I  am  not  an  apostle,  not  a 
preacher,  not  authorized  ;  and  I  have  my  own  work  in  the  world 
to  do.  Not  a  preacher  ?  If  we  know  God  and  love  Him,  how  can 
we  help  telling  men  about  Him ;  how  can  we  help  saving  men 
whom  we  see  lost,  suffering,  and  sinful  ?  Not  authorized  ?  The 
Apostles  were  not  set  apart  as  a  special  class,  nor  do  their  so-called 
descendants  form  one.  Ministers  are  set  apart,  not  to  be  a 
class,  but  as  representatives  of  that  which  all  men  should  be. 
They  are  specially  called  to  be  fishers  of  men  in  order  that  they 
may  teach  all  who  hear  them  to  be  fishers  of  men.  We  know  that 
is  true  when  we  think  about  it,  when  we  begin  to  care  for  doing 
the  thing  itself.  The  moment  a  man  asks  himself  what  he  can  do 

1  Ruskin,  LctUra  on  Public  Affairs  (  Works,  xviii.  540). 


ANDREW 

in  this  way,  he  finds  the  work  ready  to  his  hand,  close  beside  him. 
The  moment  we  have  the  heart  to  do  it,  do  we  mean  to  say  that 
we  can  help  doing  it  ?  Not  save,  help,  console,  uplift,  teach  the 
sinful,  the  weak,  the  pained,  the  broken-hearted,  the  ignorant; 
not  rush  into  this  work  with  joy  ?  We  cannot  help  being  fishers  of 
men,  and  we  ask  no  authority  for  that  Divine  toil.  It  is  human 
work,  and  it  makes  us  men  to  do  it.  It  is  Divine  work,  and  it 
makes  us  one  with  God  to  do  it. 

U  "  Oh,  for  a  church  of  Andrews  ! "  I  do  not  know  that  many 
ministers  would  want  a  church  of  Peters ;  it  would  be  too  quarrel 
some.  I  am  quite  willing  for  Thomas  to  go  to  the  City  Temple 
and  Simon  Zelotes  to  Whitefield's.  Let  me  have  a  church  of 
Andrews — of  simple,  loving  men,  content  to  bring  people  to 
Jesus.  Men  like  Andrew  are  so  valuable  because  everybody  can 
be  a  man  like  Andrew.  Not  a  greatly  gifted  man,  but  a  greatly 
faithful  man ;  not  a  man  who  would  dispute  with  Peter  as  to  who 
should  be  primate,  or  with  John  and  James  as  to  who  shall  sit  on 
the  left  hand  of  Christ  and  who  on  the  right,  but  a  man  who 
simply  and  humbly  and  lovingly  does  the  work  that  lies  nearest 
to  him.  He  surely  is  of  those  last  in  the  world's  estimate  who  are 
first  in  the  Kingdom  of  God.1 


D 


2.  Andrew  began  his  missionary  activity  in  his  own  home. 
This  is  what  the  Gospel  says :  "  He  fiudeth  first  his  own  brother 
Simon,  and  saith  unto  him,  We  have  found  the  Messiah.  He 
brought  him  unto  Jesus."  Young  men  and  young  women  are 
ambitious  to  engage  in  missionary  work  or  to  enter  the  ministry. 
They  are  all  on  fire  with  the  romance  of  missions ;  they  want  to  go 
to  those  vast  mysterious  regions  where  multitudes  sit  in  darkness, 
or  to  prove  their  preaching  gifts  before  great  audiences  at  home ; 
and,  meanwhile,  they  almost  despise  the  humbler  evangelical  work 
which  is  waiting  at  their  own  doors.  But  the  first  proof  that  they 
are  fit  for  the  larger  call  is  found  in  their  willingness  to  answer 
the  smaller  and  immediate  call. 

Every  zealous  Christian  should  begin  at  home.  He  wants  to 
make  his  light  shine  as  a  witness  there  among  his  own  kinsfolk. 
For  these  are,  and  must  be,  more  to  us  than  others — children, 
brethren,  parents,  husband,  and  wife.  No  one,  whether  young  or 
old,  can  rejoice  in  the  light  and  love  of  God  without  anxiety  and 
1  J.  E.  Rattenbury,  The  Twelve,  95. 


ANDREW  125 

intense  desire  to  make  every  member  of  the  home  circle  partner 
with  him  in  these  things.  It  is  always  painful  to  think  that  they 
are  separated  from  us  by  a  barrier  of  unbelief ;  that  they  who  have 
so  many  dear  things  in  common  with  us  have  no  communion  with 
us  in  the  best  and  dearest  thing  of  all.  And  every  Christian  who 
thinks  seriously  of  this  finds  it  such  a  trouble  to  him  that  he  cannot 
help  bearing  some  sort  of  witness  for  Christ  in  the  home.  Never 
does  he  kneel  in  prayer  without  supplicating  for  the  near  and  dear 
ones.  He  longs  to  have  them  persuaded.  Oh  yes,  and  he  will 
endeavour,  God  helping  him,  to  make  his  whole  life  in  the  home  a 
speaking  witness  for  Christ — a  gospel  that  utters  itself  either  in 
words  or  without  words,  a  gospel  that  shows  itself  in  sympathy, 
forbearance,  kindly  actions,  gentleness,  cheerfulness,  unselfishness. 
You  remember  what  Jesus  said  to  the  man  out  of  whom  He  had 
cast  a  legion  of  devils,  and  who,  in  his  gratitude,  wished  to  remain 
at  Jesus'  side :  "  Go  home,"  said  Jesus,  "  go  home  to  thy  friends, 
and  tell  them  how  great  things  the  Lord  hath  done  for  thee."  1  It- 
was  to  become  a  missionary,  and  his  first  sphere  of  service  was  to 
be  his  own  home.  That  is  exactly  what  Andrew  did  without  being 
ordered — he  became  a  missionary  to  his  own  home. 

The  first  member  of  a  family  who  is  brave  enough  to  show  his 
religion  where  all  around  in  the  household  is  indifference  and 
worldliness;  the  first  little  boy  in  the  school  dormitory  who — 
like  Arthur  in  the  story  of  Tom  Browns  Schooldays — dares  to 
kneel  down  and  say  his  prayers  by  his  bedside,  as  he  had  knelt  in 
his  nursery  at  home ;  the  first  soldier  in  the  barracks  who  has  the 
courage  to  rebuke  the  profanity  and  impurity  which  prevail  around 
him;  the  first  pitman  who  raises  his  voice  against  the  gambling 
and  the  intemperance  of  his  companions — these,  and  such  as  these, 
are  the  true  heroes  of  God,  of  whom  Andrew  was  the  forerunner. 

^1  The  Rev.  J.  W.  Dickson,  of  St.  Helens,  who  was  one  of 
Di.  I'aton'.s  Ftudents  at  Nottingham  Institute,  in  his  notes  of  the 
Principal's  obiter  dicta,  quotes  him  as  saying:  "There  is  no  place 
so  difficult  to  begin  work  for  Jesus  as  the  home.  Said  a  servant- 
girl  of  her  master,  a  Wesleyan  minister :  '  Many  conversions  at 
chapel,  but  never  a  word  for  poor  Polly ;  I  do  wish  I  could  find 
Jesus.'  W<;  [ministers]  think  of  congregations,  of  young  men,  of 
the  outsider;  but  we  need  to  think  of  home  and  of  ourselves,"1 

1  J.  Lewis  i'iiton,  John  L'rotrn  futon,  369. 


126  ANDREW 

3.  But  Andrew's  labours  were  not  confined  to  his  own  home. 
We  read  in  the  Gospels  that  he  was  the  means  of  introducing  to 
Jesus  those  Greeks  who  were  so  anxious  to  see  Him.  Nothing 
stirred  our  Lord's  soul  as  did  the  coming  of  those  Greeks.  They 
were  the  first-fruits  of  the  Gentiles,  and  in  vision  Christ  saw  the 
Kingdom  stretching  from  shore  to  shore  and  from  the  river  unto 
the  ends  of  the  earth.  And  it  was  Andrew  who  brought  them. 

We  find  in  this  incident  a  repetition  of  the  characteristic 
which  Andrew  had  showed  at  the  first.  He  is  the  man  who 
quietly  and  by  personal  efforts  brings  men  to  Jesus.  Some  of  the 
disciples  would  have  hesitated  to  introduce  foreigners  to  Christ. 
They  would,  perhaps,  have  rejected  the  notion  that  the  Messiah 
was  sent  to  the  Gentiles,  or  at  least  would  have  feared  the  possible 
effect  on  the  populace  of  throwing  Christ  into  association  with 
outsiders.  Philip  was  undecided  what  to  do  till  he  had  consulted 
Andrew.  But  the  latter  seems  to  have  better  understood  his 
Master.  He  felt  that  Jesus  would  be  glad  to  help  and  save  any ; 
and  it  was  just  in  the  line  of  his  habits  to  be  thus  the  medium  of 
leading  inquiring  minds  to  the  Saviour  of  them  all. 

|[  St.  Andrew  is  styled  by  the  Greeks  Protoclet,  or  first-called  : 
and  by  the  Venerable  Bede,  Introductor  to  Christ,  a  name  aptly 
assigned  to  that  large-hearted  Saint  who  at  the  outset  of  his 
ministry  brought  St.  Peter  to  the  Messiah,  and  at  subsequent 
periods  introduced  to  his  Lord's  notice  not  only  certain  Greek 
suppliants,  but  even  a  lad  who  had  five  loaves  and  two  small 
fishes.  After  the  apostolic  dispersion  from  Jerusalem,  St.  Andrew, 
preaching  the  Crucified  from  place  to  place,  travelled,  according 
to  tradition,  into  Kussia,  and  as  far  as  the  frontiers  of  Poland.  At 
Patrae  in  Achaia,  having  kept  the  faith  and  exasperated  the  Pro 
consul  by  a  harvest  of  souls,  he  finished  his  course.  On  an  X- 
shaped  cross,  constructed  as  is  alleged  of  olive-wood,  and  to  him 
the  pledge  of  assured  peace ;  to  his  yearning  soul  less  the  olive- 
twig  of  the  pilgrim  dove  than  the  very  ark  of  rest ;  on  such  a 
cross  after  ignominious  scourging  he  made  his  last  bed,  and  from 
such  a  bed  he  awoke  to  that  rest  which  remaineth  to  the  people 
of  God.  The  outburst  of  his  joy  on  beholding  his  cross  has  been 
handed  down  to  us:  "Hail,  precious  cross,  consecrated  by  my 
Lord's  Body,  jewelled  by  His  Limbs.  I  come  to  thee  exultant, 
embrace  thou  me  with  welcome.  0  good  cross,  beautified  by  my 
Lord's  beauty,  I  have  ardently  loved  thee,  long  have  I  panted 
seeking  thee.  Now  found,  now  made  ready  to  my  yearnings, 


ANDREW  127 

embrace  thou  me,  separate  me  from  mankind,  uplift  me  to  my 
Muster,  that  He  who  redeemed  me  on  thee  may  receive  me  by 
thee." 1 

III. 

THE  BROTHER. 

1.  There  are  many  very  useful  people  in  the  world  who  are 
not  appreciated  because  they  are  overshadowed  by  someone 
especially  conspicuous.  They  are  dwarfed  by  comparison  with  a 
giant.  They  are  forgotten  because  the  attention  of  men  is  fixed 
on  the  greater  one  near  them.  They  are  like  tall  trees  and  huge 
rocks  on  a  mountain  side :  tall  and  huge  though  they  be,  they 
look  small  by  contrast  with  the  great  peak  itself.  Such  people 
may  be  really  useful,  worthy  of  study  and  imitation ;  their  lives 
may  be  terrible  tragedies ;  the  pathos  of  their  existence  may  be 
unutterable,  or  the  value  of  their  work  may  be  actually  more 
than  that  of  another  who  towers  over  them ;  but  by  reason  of  the 
other's  nearness  they  are  passed  by  without  notice. 

We  are  often  quite  arbitrary  in  the  selection  of  our  models 
and  heroes.  We  confine  our  admiration  to  a  few  whom,  indeed, 
it  is  scarcely  possible  to  imitate,  while  scores  of  others  present 
excellences  which  are  not  less  worthy  of  praise,  and  which  may 
be  more  nearly  within  our  reach.  They  are  cast  into  the  shade, 
however,  by  the  more  conspicuous  object  near  which  it  is  their 
fortune  to  be.  So  was  it  with  Andrew.  He  was  Simon  Peter's 
brother.  He  was  more  distinguished,  therefore,  by  his  connexion 
with  Simon  than  by  what  he  was  or  did.  No  figure  stands  out 
more  prominently  in  the  annals  of  the  Early  Church  than  that  of 
Peter.  How  often  his  name  is  mentioned  in  the  Gospels !  How 
much  we  hear  of  him  in  the  earlier  part  of  the  Book  of  Acts! 
What  a  great  number  of  precious  practical  lessons  has  he  been 
the  means  of  our  learning !  What  a  mighty  character  was  his — 
that  Luther  of  the  Apostolic  Age — towering,  as  Luther  did,  above 
all  but  a  few  of  his  fellow-Christians !  But  the  very  fact  that  to 
distinguish  Andrew  more  clearly  it  was  easiest  to  call  him  Simon 
Peter's  brother  has  tended  to  obscure  the  merit  of  the  less 
renowned  disciple.  He  is  presented  to  us  in  the  gospel  history 

1  CLrUtiua  U.  Koaaetti,  Called  to  it  tiuint*,  3. 


128  ANDREW 

in  the  shadow  of  his  brother's  giant  shape.     This  puts  him  at  a 
disadvantage. 

Not  that  Christian  historians  have  been  wrong  in  their  estimate 
of  the  two — Peter  was  the  greater ;  but  that  Christ,  by  choosing 
Andrew  also  to  the  apostleship,  recognized  his  worth,  where 
history  has  scarcely  done  so.  He  is  a  fair  type,  we  doubt  not,  of 
multitudes  of  useful  people  whose  worth  is  unrecognized  because 
men  either  see  or  are  looking  for  someone  of  very  extraordinary 
characteristics. 

2.  Thus  Andrew  occupied  an  uncertain  and  most  difficult 
position.  If  we  look  at  the  lists  of  the  Apostles  given  to  us  in 
the  Gospels,  we  find  Andrew's  name  always  mentioned  in  the  first 
group,  along  with  those  of  Peter  and  James  and  John.  And  yet, 
when  we  come  to  examine  the  gospel  history,  we  discover  that 
he  was  certainly  not  on  an  equality  with  the  great  three.  He 
was  not  admitted  into  the  intimacy  of  Christ ;  he  was  not  made  a 
witness  of  the  great  experiences  of  Christ  as  were  they.  Andrew 
was  left  behind  when  Jesus  took  Peter  and  James  and  John  to 
witness  His  first  struggle  with  the  power  of  death  in  Jairus'  house. 
Andrew  was  left  behind  when  Jesus  took  Peter  and  Jamen  and 
John  to  behold  His  transfiguration  glory  on  the  Holy  Mount. 
Andrew  was  left  behind  when  Jesus  took  Peter  and  James  and 
John  to  share  His  sorrow  in  the  garden. 

Of  all  places  in  the  Apostolate,  this  that  Andrew  held  was  the 
most  calculated  to  test  the  qualities  of  a  man's  soul.  Andrew 
was  "  betwixt  and  between."  He  was  above  the  second,  and  not 
quite  in  the  first  rank.  And  of  all  places  to  test  a  man's  character, 
that  was  the  place.  It  would  have  been  an  intolerable  place  for 
James  and  John.  With  their  keen  and  absorbing  desire  to  be 
first  they  would  have  turned  sick  with  envy  had  they  occupied 
Andrew's  position.  But  it  is  to  Andrew's  everlasting  credit  and 
honour  that,  in  this  most  trying  and  terrible  place,  he  preserved 
the  sweetness  and  serenity  of  his  temper.  He  did  not  mope  or 
murmur  when  Peter  and  James  and  John  were  taken  and  he  was 
left.  No  trace  of  jealousy  found  a  lodging  in  his  large  and 
generous  heart.  He  was  content  to  be  passed  over ;  he  was 
content  to  fill  a  subordinate  place. 

He  was  not  as  gifted  as  Peter  or  James  or  John.     But  he  had 


ANDREW  i2Q 

that  ram  ornament,  the  brightest  gem  in  the  whole  chaplet  of 
Christian  giacee — he  had  the  ornament  of  a  nirek  and  quiet 
spirit.  And  in  that  great  day  when  judgment  will  go  by 
character  and  not  by  gifts,  when  first  shall  be  last  and  last  first, 
it  may  be  that  this  man  Andrew,  this  self-forgetful,  self-eflucing 
Andrew,  will  be  found  among  the  chiefest  in  the  Kingdom  of  God. 

TI  The  longer  I  live,  the  more  I  learn  to  dread  and  hate  that 
ugly,  universal  and  well-nigh  ineradicable  sin  of  envy.  "  Love 
envictk  not,"  says  Paul.  Applying  that  test,  how  many  of  us  can 
lay  claim  to  the  possession  of  Christian  love?1 

T|  Lord,  I  read  at  the  transfiguration  that  Peter,  James,  and 
John  were  admitted  to  behold  Christ;  but  Andrew  was  excluded. 
So  again  at  the  reviving  of  the  daughter  of  the  ruler  of  the 
synagogue,  these  three  were  let  in,  and  Andrew  shut  out.  Lastly, 
in  the  agony  the  aforesaid  three  were  called  to  be  witnesses 
thereof,  and  still  Andrew  left  behind.  Yet  he  was  Peter's 
brother,  and  a  good  man,  and  an  apostle ;  why  did  not  Christ  take 
the  two  pair  of  brothers?  was  it  not  pity  to  part  them?  But 
methinks  1  seem  more  oil'ended  thereat  than  Andrew  himself  was, 
whom  I  find  to  express  no  discontent,  being  pleased  to  be 
accounted  a  loyal  subject  for  the  general,  though  he  was  no 
favourite  in  these  particulars.  Give  me  to  be  pleased  in  myself, 
and  thankful  to  Thee,  for  what  I  am,  though  I  be  not  equal  to 
others  in  personal  perfections.  For  such  peculiar  privileges  are 
courtesies  from  Thee  when  given,  and  no  injuries  to  us  when  denied.2 

3.  Andrew  appears  a  faithful,  useful  man,  doing  good  work  in 
a  quiet  way,  even  in  advance  of  Peter  in  practical  suggestions 
and,  perhaps,  in  the  understanding  of  Christ's  mission;  not  fitted, 
indeed,  to  lill  his  brother's  place,  not  the  man  to  stand  up  at 
Pentecost  and  preach  to  thousands,  but  the  man  to  add  by 
constant,  personal,  practical  work  to  the  power  of  the  common 
cause.  Every  Simon  Peter  needs  an  Andrew,  every  preacher 
needs  the  practical  workers  to  unite  with  him,  just  as  every 
general  needs  subordinate  officers.  If  Andrew  be  undervalued 
because  of  his  brother's  brilliance  and  publicity,  he  will  not  be 
when  we  remember  how  little  the  latter  could  have  done, 
humanly  speaking,  without  the  aid  of  the  former.  Beyond  doubt 
the  Master's  choice  was  good.  Simon  Peter's  brother  was  as 
useful  in  his  way  and  as  truly  an  Apostle  as  Simon  Peter  himself. 

1  J.  D.  Jon-  s.  a  Thomas  Fuller,  Good  Thoughts  for  Bad  Times. 

MARY-SIMON  —  9 


130  ANDREW 

^[  There  are  some  men  who  will  only  work  if  they  are  put  into 
prominent  positions  ;  they  will  not  join  the  army  unless  they  can 
be  made  officers.  James  and  John  had  a  good  deal  of  that  spirit ; 
they  wanted  to  be  first  in  the  Kingdom.  They  and  Peter  and 
the  rest  were  always  wrangling  which  should  be  greatest.  But 
Andrew  never  took  part  in  those  angry  debates ;  he  had  no  crav 
ing  for  prominence.  Andrew  anticipated  Christina  Piossetti,  and 
said  to  his  Lord — 

Give  me  the  lowest  place ;  not  that  I  dare 
Ask  for  that  lowest  place,  but  Thou  hast  died 
That  I  might  live  and  share  Thy  glory  by  Thy  side. 

Give  me  the  lowest  place :  or  if  for  me 

That  lowest  place  too  high,  make  one  more  low 

Where  I  may  sit  and  see  my  God  and  love  Thee  so.1 

If  Mark  Guy  Pearse  is  an  expert  fisher,  and  rarely  does  a 
year  pass  without  his  paying  a  visit  to  the  rivers  of  Northumber 
land.  And  he  has  more  than  once  laid  down  what  he  considers 
to  be  the  three  essential  rules  for  all  successful  fishing,  and  con 
cerning  which  he  says,  "  It  is  no  good  trying  if  you  don't  mind 
them.  The  first  rule  is  this:  keep  yourself  out  of  sight;  and 
secondly,  keep  yourself  further  out  of  sight;  and  thirdly,  keep 
yourself  further  out  of  sight !"  Mr.  Pearse's  counsel  is  confirmed 
by  every  fisher.  A  notable  angler,  writing  recently  in  one  of  our 
daily  papers,  summed  up  all  his  advice  in  what  he  proclaims  a 
golden  maxim :  "  Let  the  trout  see  the  angler,  and  the  angler  will 
catch  no  trout."  Now  this  is  a  first  essential  in  the  art  of  man- 
fishing  :  the  suppression  and  eclipse  of  the  preacher.2 

1  J.  D.  Jones.  •  J.  H.  Jowett,  The  Passim  for  Souls,  62. 


JAMES   THE   APOSTLE 


LITERATURE. 

Adeney,  W.  F.,  in  Men  of  the  New  Testament  :   Matthew  to  Timothy 

(1905),  14< 

Banks,  L.  A.,  Paul  and  His  Friends  (1898),  169. 
Durell,  J.  C.  V.,  The  Self -Rev  elation  of  Our  Lord  (1910),  145. 
Godet,  F.,  Studies  on  the  New  Testament  (1879),  218. 
Greenhough,  J.  G.,  The  Apostles  of  Our  Lord  (1904),  63. 
Jones,  J.  D.,  The  Glorious  Company  of  the  Apostles  (1904),  46. 
Lovell,  R.  H.,  First  Types  of  the  Christian  Life  (1895),  57. 
Maclaren,  A.,  The  Wearied  Christ  (1893),  61. 
Plummer,  A.,  The  Humanity  of  Christ,  144. 
Rattenbury,  J.  E.,  The  Twelve  (1914),  111. 

Stanley,  A.  P.,  Sermons  and  Essays  on  the  Apostolic  Age  (1874),  284. 
Watson,  J.,  Children  of  the  Resurrection  (1912),  129. 
Dictionary  of  the  Bible,  ii.  (1899)  540  (J.  B.  Mayor). 
Dictionary  of  Christ  and  the  Gospels,  i.  (1906)  846  (H.  W.  Fulford). 
Encyclopedia  Biblica,  ii.  (1901),  col.  2317  (0.  Cone). 


JAMES    THE   APOSTLE. 

And  going  on  from  thence  he  saw  other  two  brethren,  James  the  son  of 
Zebedee,  and  John  his  brother,  in  the  boat  with  Zebedee  their  father,  mend 
ing  their  nets  ;  and  he  called  them.-  Matt.  iv.  21. 

And  he  [Herod]  killed  James   the   brother  of  John  with   the   sword.- 
Acts  xii.  2. 

1.  THE  first  three  Lives  of  our  Lord — the  Synoptic  Gospels — as 
well  as  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles  contain  lists  of  the  Twelve,  in 
which  the  name  of  James  stands  nearly  always  between  those  of 
Peter  and  John.  But  he  is  sometimes  ranked  after,  instead  of 
before,  his  brother  (see  Luke  viii.  51,  ix.  28 ;  Acts  i.  13  R.V.),  and 
it  would  appear  that  his  early  death,  with  the  subsequent  promin 
ence  of  the  disciple  whom  Jesus  loved,  had  by  the  time  the 
Gospels  were  written  already  begun  to  throw  his  name  into  the 
shade.  His  death  in  the  prime  of  his  manhood  strikingly  illus 
trates  his  Master's  words,  "  The  one  shall  be  taken,  and  the  other 
left."  While  John  remained  to  teach  and  inspire  the  Apostolic 
Church  until  the  reign  of  Domitian  in  the  last  decade  of  the  first 
century,  James  was  taken  full  half  a  century  earlier  to  join  the 
Church  triumphant  in  heaven,  being  the  first  of  the  "glorious 
company  of  the  apostles"  to  be  numbered  likewise  with  the 
"  noble  army  of  martyrs."  And  not  only  was  his  career  soon 
ended,  but  no  adequate  record  of  it  was  preserved. 

How  we  should  like,  in  particular,  to  possess  some  authentic 
account  of  his  Litest  days  and  hours,  some  mirror  of  his  mind  in 
the  ultimate  ordeal,  some  human  document  worthy  to  compare 
with  the  last  speech  of  St.  Stephen  or  the  last  letters  of  St. 
Ignatius,  Borne  pen-and-ink  portrait  for  the  Church  on  earth  to 
cherish  and  contemplate  till  the  end  of  time !  History  has  done 
but  scant  justice  to  this  Apostle,  epitomizing  the  story  of  his 
martyrdom  in  one  brief  sentence  and  the  beginning  of  a  second. 
King  Herod  Agrippa,  we  are  told,  "  killed  James  the  brother  of 


134  JAMES  THE  APOSTLE 

John  with  the  sword.  And  when  he  saw  that  it  pleased  the 
Jews,  he  proceeded  to  seize  Peter  also."  And  then  the  chapter 
goes  on  to  relate,  with  a  wealth  of  charming  incidents,  the  story 
of  the  rescue  of  St.  Peter  from  prison  and  from  death.  But  no 
word  of  embellishment  is  spared  for  the  story  of  the  Apostle  who 
was  not  rescued.  The  historical  style  was  never  more  bare  and 
unadorned  than  here.  The  sword,  we  learn,  did  its  work,  and 
the  work  pleased  the  Jews,  and  that  is  all.  That  is  all,  but  the 
imagination  is  not  satisfied  with  a  gleaming  sword  and  a  vampire 
smile.  How  it  longs  to  recreate  a  whole  psychological  drama  of 
heroic  faith  and  spiritual  passion  on  the  one  hand,  of  sinister 
policy  and  fanatical  hate  on  the  other ! 

But  regrets  are  vain.  We  shall  never  know  how  the  brave 
Apostle  received  his  sentence  of  death,  how  he  prepared  himself — 
if  any  time  was  allowed — for  the  moment  of  his  departure,  or 
how  he  fared  in  his  swift  passage  through  the  valley  of  the 
shadow.  Perhaps  the  historian  himself  did  not  know.  Perhaps 
it  was  all  done  so  stealthily  and  so  suddenly  that  nothing  ever 
leaked  out.  And  so  the  Church  could  only  guess  with  what  feel 
ings  the  Apostle  stepped  into  the  river  of  death,  just  as  it  could 
only  imagine  with  what  a  storm  of  jubilation  he  was  welcomed  on 
the  other  side.  How  true  it  is  that  the  place  which  a  man  fills 
in  history,  the  meed  of  honour  and  applause  which  he  receives 
among  his  fellows,  is  but  a  poor  index  of  his  worth  in  the  eyes  of 
God  !  For  every  hero  who  receives  the  Victoria  Cross  how  many 
others  just  as  brave — the  flower  of  a  nation's  chivalry — sleep  their 
last  earthly  sleep  in  unknown  graves!  Is  it  "just  their  luck"? 
Say  rather  that  not  one  of  them  is  forgotten  before  God.  The 
names  which  have  not  become  famous  on  earth  are  written  in 
heaven,  and  "  many  that  are  first  shall  be  last ;  and  the  last  shall 
be  first." 

^[  According  to  the  legend  of  Saint  lago,  the  patron  saint  of 
Spain,  the  gospel  was  first  preached  in  Spain  by  St.  James,  who 
afterwards  returned  to  Judaea,  and,  after  performing  many  miracles 
there,  was  finally  put  to  death  by  Herod.  His  body  was  placed 
on  board  ship  at  Joppa  and  transported  to  Iria  in  the  north-west 
of  Spain  under  angelic  guidance.  The  surrounding  heathen  were 
converted  by  the  prodigies  which  witnessed  to  the  power  of  the 
saint,  and  a  church  was  built  over  his  tomb.  During  the  barbarian 
invasions  all  memory  of  the  hallowed  spot  was  lost  till  it  wag 


JAMES  THE  APOSTLE  135 

revealed  l>y  vision  in  the  year  800.  The  body  was  then  moved 
by  order  of  Alphonso  II.  to  the  place  now  called  Compostella 
(abbreviated  from  Jacomo  Postolo),  which  became  famous  as  a 
place  of  pilgrimage  throughout  Europe.  The  saint  was  believed 
to  have  appeared  on  many  occasions  mounted  on  a  white  horse, 
leading  the  Spanish  armies  to  victory  against  their  infidel  foes. 
The  impossibilities  of  the  story  have  been  pointed  out  by  Roman 
Catholic  scholars,1 

2.  Although  this  Apostle  is  referred  to  after  his  decease  as 
"  James  the  brother  of  John,"  as  if  that  were  his  chief  title  to 
fame,  yet  there  are  evidences,  slight  and  easily  overlooked  but 
quite  convincing,  that  during  his  lifetime  he  was  the  more 
prominent,  just  as  he  was  probably  the  elder,  of  the  two  sons  of 
Salome  and  Zebedee.  In  the  Gospel  of  St.  Matthew  we  find  the 
order  of  the  two  names  inverted,  for  we  read  twice  of  "  James  the 
son  of  Zebedee  and  John  his  brother "  (iv.  21,  x.  2),  and  once  of 
"James  and  John  his  brother  "  (xvii.  1).  In  the  Gospel  of  Mark 
we  hear  of  "James  and  John  his  brother,"  and  of  "John  the 
brother  of  James"  (i.  19,  iii.  17,  v.  37).  In  the  earliest  list  of  the 
Twelve,  contained  in  Mark  iii.  16—19,  Peter's  name  stands  first, 
James's  second,  and  John's  third.  It  is  true  that  the  lists  in 
Matthew  and  Luke  begin  with  the  brothers  Peter  and  Andrew, 
but  it  is  probable  that  this  arrangement  was  an  afterthought, 
and  that  during  the  whole  of  our  Lord's  earthly  ministry  Peter, 
James,  and  John  were  recognized  in  this  order,  as  the  three 
foremost  and  most  highly  privileged  disciples.  Just  as  Jesus 
selected  from  the  wide  outer  circle  of  His  followers  twelve 
disciples  who  formed  an  inner  circle,  so  from  among  the  Twelve 
He  chose  three  intimate  human  friends  who  formed  an  innermost 
circle  of  His  Apostles.  These  three  were  with  the  Master  on 
great  and  memorable  occasions — at  the  healing  of  Peter's  wife's 
mother,  at  the  raising  of  Jairus'  daughter,  at  the  Transfiguration, 
at  the  Mount  of  Olives  during  the  great  discourse  on  the  Last 
Things,  and  at  the  Agony  in  the  Garden  of  Gethsemane.  How 
many  sermons  and  studies,  how  many  theological,  ecclesiastical, 
and  mystical  books  have  been  devoted  to  Peter  and  John,  but 
how  few  to  the  second  of  that  great  Triumvirate  !  Yet  it  is  by 
no  means  impossible  to  gain  such  a  knowledge  of  James  the 

1  J.  B.  Mayor,  in  Hastings'  Dictionary  of  the  Bible,  ii.  641. 


6  JAMES  THE  APOSTLE 


Apostle  as  must  constrain  us  to  love  him  ;  for,  if  only  a  few  rays 
of  light  have  been  thrown  upon  his  character  and  career,  yet  each 
of  them  is  so  beautifully  illuminative  that  with  the  exercise  of 
a  little  historical  imagination  we  can  see  him  again,  as  he  lived 
and  as  he  died,  a  noble  and  alluring  type  of  Christian  manhood. 

When  we  ask  what  manner  of  man  he  was  in  his  youthful, 
formative  years,  we  soon  find  that  he  had  three  natural  enough 
human  propensities,  each  of  which  required,  not  to  be  eradicated, 
but  to  be  touched  to  finer  issues,  before  he  could  become  a 
disciple  after  Jesus'  own  heart,  worthy  at  length  to  wear  a  halo 
us  the  first  martyr  among  the  Apostles.  By  nature  he  was 
zealous,  jealous,  and  ambitious  in  the  pursuit  of  earthly  ends ; 
and  by  grace  he  became  so  true-hearted  and  whole-hearted  in  the 
service  of  Christ — so  zealous  in  His  cause,  so  jealous  of  His 
honour,  so  ambitious  to  follow  in  His  steps — that  Herod  Agrippa, 
king  of  the  Jews,  could  think  of  no  surer  way  of  pleasing  his 
subjects  than  by  offering  him  as  the  first  victim  to  their  fanatical 
hate. 

^|  The  Bishop  lost  no  opportunity  of  impressing  upon  his 
clergy  the  need  of  kindling  in  themselves,  from  the  altar  of  God, 
the  flames  of  fervid  enthusiasm,  and  prophetic  fire.  The  people 
are  not  saved  by  the  keenness  of  a  cold  philosophy,  but  by  the 
affection  of  an  inspiring  faith.  Preaching  upon  this  subject  at 
St.  Peter's,  Little  Oakley,  March  30,  1882,  the  Bishop  said  : 

"  The  ministers  of  the  Church  of  England  have  many  gifts  and 
graces,  but  they  too  seldom  have  fervour,  which,  for  the  work 
they  have  to  do,  is,  perhaps,  the  most  needed  of  all.  The  common 
people  rarely  have  subtle  minds.  Laboured  expositions,  an 
elaborated  style,  dogmatic  precision,  rarely  touch  and  certainly 
do  not  affect  or  move  them.  They  ask  for  some  potent  tokens  of 
the  presence  of  the  Spirit  of  God.  Churchmen  shrink,  and  rightly 
so,  from  extravagances,  and  lament  to  see  some  strange,  and  to 
them  startling,  things  done  in  the  name  and  for  the  cause  of 
Christ.  They  naturally,  and  properly,  like  quiet,  sober,  and  well- 
ordered  ways.  But  all  these  things  are  compatible  with  fervour. 
If  the  clergy  wish  to  reach  the  mass  of  the  people — and  to  do  so 
would  be  the  greatest  glory  and  stability  of  the  Church — I 
venture  to  assert  it  will  never  be  done  except  by  fervour."  1 

1  J.  YV.  Digglc,  The,  Lancashire  Life  of  Bishop  Fraser,  346. 


JAMES  THE  APOSTLE  137 

I. 

ZEAT.OUS  BY  NATURE  AND  BY  ORATE. 

1.  James's  character  is  strikingly  indicated  by  the  surname 
which  the  Lord  bestowed  on  him  and  his  brother — "  Boanerges, 
which  is,  Sons  of  thunder."  This  strange  appellation  is  found  in 
Mark  iii.  17,  and  nowhere  else  in  the  New  Testament.  The  deriva 
tion  of  the  word  is  uncertain,  some  scholars  holding  that  it  means 
"  sons  of  tumult "  or  "  sons  of  rushing  "  (benS-rSggsh),  others  that  it 
means  "  sons  of  anger,"  "  soon  angered  "  (bgnc-rdycz}.  In  any  case, 
it  seems  to  have  been  suggested  to  Jesus  by  the  intense  and 
enthusiastic  nature,  the  fervent  and  irascible  temper,  of  the  two 
brothers.  There  is  no  reason  whatever  to  suppose  that  it  referred 
to  the  quality  of  their  voices,  though  the  name  Boanerges  is  now 
popularly  applied  to  a  loud  and  powerful  preacher.  It  did  not 
once  denote  any  physical  trait,  or  any  single  characteristic  of  any 
kind,  but  referred  to  the  whole  disposition  of  the  men — the  ardent 
vehement  spirit  often  latent  in  the  depths  of  still  and  reserved 
natures,  ordinarily  held  in  strict  control,  but  flaming  forth  on 
occasion  with  fierce,  volcanic  energy. 

TI  Dr.  John  Brown,  author  of  Rob  and  His  Friends,  writing 
of  his  grand  uncle,  Khenezer  Brown,  the  Seceder  minister  at 
Inverkeithiiv^,  whose  gifts  as  a  preacher  so  impressed  Lord  Jeffrey 
and  Lord  Brougham,  says:  "  Uncle  Ebenezer  was  always  good  and 
saintly,  but  he  was  great  once  a  week  ;  six  days  he  brooded  over 
hia  message,  was  silent,  withdrawn,  self-involved  ;  on  the  Sabbath, 
that  downcast,  almost  timid  man,  who  shunned  men,  the  instant 
he  was  in  the  pulpit,  stood  up  a  son  of  thunder.  Such  a  voice ! 
such  a  piercing  eye!  such  an  inevitable  forefinger,  held  out 
trembling  with  the  terrors  of  the  Lord ;  such  a  power  of  asking 
questions  and  letting  them  fall  deep  into  the  hearts  of  his  hearers, 
and  then  answering  them  himself,  with  an  'ah,  sirs!'  that  thrilled 
and  quivered  from  him  to  them." 

TI  An  extract  from  the  Meditations  and  Devotions  which 
Newman  wrote  from  time  to  time  may  be  set  down  as  having 
much  of  self-revelation  : — 

"  Breathe  on  me  with  that  Breath  which  infuses  energy  and 
kindles  fervour.  In  asking  for  fervour,  I  ask  for  all  that  I  can 
need,  and  all  that  Thou  canst  give;  for  it  is  the  crown  of  all  gifts 
and  all  virtues.  It  cannot  really  and  fully  be,  except  where  all 


138  JAMES  THE  APOSTLE 

are  present.  It  is  the  beauty  and  the  glory,  as  it  is  also  the 
continual  safeguard  and  purifier,  of  them  all.  In  asking  for 
fervour,  I  am  asking  for  effectual  strength,  consistency,  and 
perseverance ;  I  am  asking  for  deadness  to  every  human  motive, 
and  simplicity  of  intention  to  please  Thee  ;  I  am  asking  for  faith, 
hope,  and  charily  in  their  most  heavenly  exercise.  In  asking  for 
fervour  I  am  asking  to  be  rid  of  the  fear  of  man,  and  the  desire  of 
his  praise ;  I  am  asking  for  the  gift  of  prayer,  because  it  will  be 
so  sweet ;  I  am  asking  for  that  loyal  perception  of  duty,  which 
follows  on  yearning  affection  ;  I  am  asking  for  sanctity,  peace, 
and  joy  all  at  once.  In  asking  for  fervour,  I  am  asking  for  the 
brightness  of  the  Cherubim  and  the  fire  of  the  Seraphim,  and  the 
whiteness  of  all  Saints.  In  asking  for  fervour,  I  am  asking  for 
that  which,  while  it  implies  all  gifts,  is  that  in  which  I  signally 
fail.  Nothing  would  be  a  trouble  to  me,  nothing  a  difficulty,  had 
I  but  fervour  of  soul." l 

2.  Jesus  did  not  avoid  fervent  men;  on  the  contrary,  He 
enlisted  them  in  His  service,  He  chose  them  as  His  intimate 
friends.  What  a  work  for  His  Kingdom  they  could  do,  if  once 
the  impetuous  current  of  their  lives  was  turned  into  another 
channel !  Harness  the  forked  lightning  that  flashes  from  a  storm- 
cloud,  or  the  raging  torrent  that  thunders  over  a  precipice,  and 
these  mighty  forces  will  beneficently  light  and  heat  whole  cities. 
And  man's  native  endowment  of  untamed  energy,  like  Nature's 
own  mechanical  powers,  is  at  first  neutral  in  quality,  all  its  moral 
value  depending  on  the  character  of  his  aims  or  ideals,  and  the 
spirit  in  which  he  pursues  them.  Eemember  how  the  samo  Jew 
of  Tarsus  who  confesses  that  his  zeal  at  one  time  made  mm  a 
persecutor  of  the  Church  yet  declares  that  "  ib  is  good  to  be 
zealously  sought  in  a  good  matter  at  all  times,"  and  that  Christ's 
purpose  in  giving  Himself  for  us  is  to  purify  unto  Himself  a 
people  for  His  own  possession,  zealous  of  good  works.  The  passion 
ate  heart,  therefore,  needs  only  to  find  its  destined  object,  its  true 
affinity,  in  order  to  purify  and  hallow  and  perfect  itself.  Then  the 
enthusiastic  temperament  will  resemble  that  of  Jesus  Himself,  of 
whom  it  is  recorded  that  the  zeal  of  God's  house  consumed  Him. 

Jesus,  let  it  be  repeated,  chose  as  His  favourite  disciples  men 
of  a  fervent  spirit,  capable  of  an  intense  devotion  and  a  self- 
sacrificing  love.  And  has  not  all  the  best  work  ever  attempted 

1  W.  Ward,  The  Life  of  John  Henry  Cardinal  Newman,  i.  367. 


JAMES  THE  APOSTLE  139 

for  humanity — the  quiet,  steady,  patient,  uumtermitteut  labour 
which  has  made  the  world  a  better  place  for  us  all  to  live  in— 
been   done   by  men   and   women   in   whose   hearts   has   burned 
a  hidden  tire,  purified  into  a  passion  of  holy  love  for  Christ  and 
His  Kingdom  ?     Therefore  in  days  of  doubt  we  must  ever  pray- 
On,  bring  us  back  once  more 
The  vanished  days  of  yore, 
When  the  world  with  faith  was  filled ; 
Bring  back  the  fervid  zeal, 
The  hearts  of  fire  and  steel, 
The  hands  that  believe  and  build. 

^[  Dr.  Chalmers  was  an  enthiisiast  in  its  true  and  good  sense ; 
he  was  "  eutheat,"  as  if  full  of  God,  as  the  old  poets  called  it.  It 
was  this  ardour — this  superabounding  life,  this  immediateness  of 
thought  and  action,  idea  and  emotion,  setting  the  whole  man 
agoing  at  once — that  gave  a  power  and  a  charm  to  everything 
he  did.  .  .  .  His  energy,  his  contagious  enthusiasm — this  it  was 
which  gave  the  peculiar  character  to  his  religion,  to  his  politics,  to 
his  personnel ;  everything  he  did  was  done  heartily — if  he  desired 
heavenly  blessings,  he  "  panted  "  for  them — "  his  soul  broke  for 
the  longing."  To  give  the  words  of  the  spiritual  and  subtle 
Culverwel  in  his  "  Light  of  Nature  "  :  "  Religion  (and  indeed  every 
thing  else)  was  no  matter  of  indiflerency  to  him.  It  was  dtpi^v  n 
-s-fay/za,  a  certain  fiery  thing,  as  Aristotle  calls  love  ;  it  required 
and  it  got,  the  very  flower  and  vigour  of  the  spirit — the  strength 
and  sinews  of  the  soul — the  prime  and  top  of  the  affections — this 
is  that  grace,  that  panting  grace — we  know  the  name  of  it  and 
that's  all — 'tis  called  zeal — a  flaming  edge  of  the  affection — the 
ruddy  complexion  of  the  soul."1 


II. 

JEALOUS  BY  NATURK  AND  BY  GRACE. 

1.  The  zeal  of  James  for  the  Christ  had  at  first  more  of  heat 
than  of  light,  and  nothing  in  the  world  is  more  dangerous  than 
a  blind  ze;il  which  takes  the  form  of  religious  fanaticism.  St. 
Paul  testifies  that  the  Jews  of  his  time  had  a  zeal  for  God,  but 
"  not  according  to  knowledge,"  and  the  words  well  describe  the 

1  Dr.  John  Brown,  /force  Subytcivcc,  ii.  127. 


140  JAMES  THE  APOSTLE 

zeal  of  the  two  sons  of  Zebedee  at  the  beginning  of  their  career  as 
followers  of  Jesus. 

That  it  was  an  intemperate  and  misguided  zeal  is  proved  by 
the  familiar  story  of  their  passing  with  the  Lord  through  Samaria 
on  the  way  to  the  Holy  City.  He  sent  messengers  to  a  village  of 
the  Samaritans  which  lay  in  His  path,  to  make  ready  for  His 
coming,  i.e.,  to  seek  lodgings  for  the  night,  and  the  villagers  would 
not  receive  Him,  simply  because  His  face  was  directed  towards 
Jerusalem.  Their  refusal  of  hospitality  was  no  unheard-of  rude 
ness,  but  one  of  those  acts  of  resentment  and  retaliation  which 
were  constantly  occurring  in  the  Holy  Land.  If  the  Jews, 
whether  of  Galilee  or  of  Judaea,  would  have  no  dealings  with  the 
Samaritans,  the  Samaritans  could  equally  refuse  to  have  any 
dealings  with  the  Jews.  Against  Jesus  personally  they  had  no 
possible  grudge,  and  had  they  known  Him  better,  had  they 
welcomed  Him  for  a  night,  they  would  have  found  out  how 
friendly  were  His  feelings  to  the  Samaritans.  But  they  did  not 
know  Him,  and  it  was  enough  for  them  that  He  belonged  to  the 
hated  race.  When  therefore  He  came  through  their  territory, 
seeking  shelter  and  rest  and  food,  they  could  not  deny  themselves 
the  spiteful  pleasure  of  bidding  Him  go  and  seek  entertainment 
among  His  own  countrymen.  The  feud  of  Jew  and  Samaritan 
was  centuries  old,  and  very  little  was  ever  needed  to  fan  the 
embers  of  strife  into  a  new  tlame.  And  on  that  particular  evening 
it  almost  appeared  as  if  there  were  no  fiercer  fanatics  among 
all  the  Galilsean  pilgrims  than  the  two  sons  of  Zebedee.  But 
it  was  not  any  theological  dispute  or  racial  difference  that  roused 
their  wrath  ;  it  was  jealousy  for  the  honour  of  their  Lord.  The 
night  was  falling  fast,  and  they  could  not  brook  the  idea  of  their 
Master  spending  it  under  the  stars,  or  trudging  on  weary  foot  till 
He  came  to  some  more  hospitable  hamlet  or  village.  And  they 
felt  that  people  who  could  be  so  insufferably  rude  to  the  best  of 
men  deserved  no  mercy.  "  Wilt  thou,"  said  James  and  his  brother 
in  their  blazing  wrath,  "  that  we  bid  h're  to  come  down  from 
heaven  and  consume  them  ? " 

U  It  is  one  thing  to  be  a  Son  of  Thunder,  another  to  become 
a  father  of  lightning.  Some  even  edifying  examples  must  be 
copied,  though  in  the  spirit  yet  not  in  the  letter :  thus  what  Elias 
did  St.  James  must  forbear  to  do.  When  Christ  sends  down  fire 


JAMES  THE  APOSTLE  141 

npon  His  flock,  it  is  for  salvation  not  for  destruction,  as  St.  John 
Baptist  aforetime  prophesied  :  "  He  shall  baptize  you  with  the 
Holy  Ghost,  and  with  tire  " ;  a  promise  both  visibly  and  invisibly 
fulfilled  to  the  Apostles,  when  at  Pentecost  the  Holy  Ghost 
descended  upon  them  in  the  likeness  of  fiery  tongues.  For  us  to 
covet  and  compass  revenge  might  make  us  indeed  like  lightning :  but 
how  ?  by  making  us  like  Satan,  who  "  as  lightning"  fell  from  heaven.1 

2.  The  two  brothers  had  in  their  hearts  that  evening  the  very 
spirit  of  persecutors,  who  do  not  hesitate  to  inflict  pain  and  death 
in  the  name  and  for  the  sake  of  Jesus.  They  did  not  yet  realize 
what  depths  of  mercy  were  in  their  Master's  great  soul,  or  how 
wide  a  gulf  still  separated  His  spirit  and  theirs.  He  never  made 
fire  or  sword  the  instrument  of  His  will.  He  said  on  one  occasion 
that  He  could  have  summoned  twelve  legions  of  angels  to  be  His 
bodyguard,  but  He  did  not  summon  them.  He  saw  that  evening, 
as  clearly  as  the  sons  of  Zebedee  did,  how  cruel,  how  vindictive, 
how  inhuman  the  Samaritans  were;  but  to  His  mind  the  only 
victory  worth  gaining  over  such  men  was  the  victory  of  love. 
F.'re  could  never  work  His  will,  for  it  was  not  His  will  that  any 
should  perish ;  He  "  came  not  to  destroy  men's  lives  but  to  save 
them."  (Whether  these  words  are  part  of  the  original  text  or  a 
marginal  comment,  they  at  any  rate  rightly  represent  the  tenor  of 
the  passage.)  And  in  rebuking  His  jealous  disciples,  Jesus  rebuked 
the  persecutors  of  all  ages,  teaching  that  it  is  His  purpose  to  win 
mankind  without  coercion,  by  that  sweet  reasonableness,  that 
Divine  patience,  that  redeeming  love,  which  beareth,  hopeth, 
believeth,  and  endureth  all  things,  and  never  faileth. 

"  Oh,  for  a  two-edged  sword,  my  God, 

That  I  may  swiftly  slay 
Each  foe  of  Thine — that  I  may  speed 

Thy  universal  sway!" 
"  Put  up  thy  sword  within  its  sheath ; 
My  gift  is  life;  would'st  thou  deal  death?" 

"Oh,  for  the  fire  from  heaven,  my  God, 

That  it  may  fiercely  burn 
All  those  who,  following  not  with  me, 

To  other  masters  turn"; 

"With  scorching  flame  would'st  thou  reprove, 
But  I  must  win  by  fire  of  love  ! 

1  Christina  G.  Ku^etti,  (JMcd  to  be  Saints,  344. 


142  JAMES  THE  APOSTLE 

"  My  son,  art  thou  above  thy  Lord  ? 

A  greater  one  than  He  ? 
When  called  I  for  fire  or  sword  ? 

Thou  hast  not  learnt  of  Me : 
Make  'truth  thy  sword,  and  love  thy  flame, 
Then  battle  in  thy  Master's  name.'"1 

^|  "  I  beseech  you,"  said  Paul,  "  by  the  mildness  and  gentleness 
of  Christ."  The  word  which  our  Bible  translates  by  "  gentleness  " 
means  more  properly  "reasonableness,  with  sweetness,"  "sweet 
reasonableness."  "  I  beseech  you  by  the  mildness  and  sweet 
reasonableness  of  Christ."  This  mildness  and  sweet  reasonable 
ness  it  was  which,  stamped  with  the  individual  charm  they  had 
in  Jesus  Christ,  came  to  the  world  as  something  new,  won  its 
heart  and  conquered  it.  Every  one  had  been  asserting  his 
ordinary  self  and  was  miserable  ;  to  forbear  to  assert  one's  ordinary 
self,  to  place  one's  happiness  in  mildness  and  sweet  reasonableness, 
was  a  revelation.  As  men  followed  this  novel  route  to  happiness, 
a  living  spring  opened  beside  their  way,  the  spring  of  charity; 
and  out  of  this  spring  arose  those  two  heavenly  visitants,  Charis 
and  Irene,  grace  and  peace,  which  enraptured  the  poor  wayfarer, 
and  filled  him  with  a  joy  which  brought  all  the  world  after  him. 
And  still,  whenever  these  visitants  appear,  as  appear  for  a  witness 
to  the  vitality  of  Christianity  they  daily  do,  it  is  from  the  same 
spring  that  they  arise ;  and  this  spring  is  opened  solely  by  the 
mildness  and  sweet  reasonableness  which  forbears  to  assert  our 
ordinary  self,  nay,  which  even  takes  pleasure  in  effacing  it.2 

3.  As  "  it  was  the  custom  of  the  Galilaeans,  when  they  came  to 
the  Holy  City  at  the  festival,  to  take  their  journey  through  the 
country  of  the  Samaritans  "  (Josephus,  Antiq.  xx.  vl  I),  it  seems 
somewhat  strange  if  the  mere  fact  of  Jesus'  face  being  directed 
towards  Jerusalem  was  the  sole  occasion  of  the  Samaritan  rude 
ness  ;  and  Dr.  A.  B.  Bruce  suggests  that  "  perhaps  the  manner  of 
the  messengers  had  something  to  do  with  it.  Had  Jesus  gone 
Himself  the  result  might  have  been  different.  Perhaps  He  was 
making  an  experiment  to  see  how  His  followers  and  the  Samaritans 
would  get  on  together."  If  the  experiment  failed,  it  may  have 
been  because  the  disciples  had  not  yet  enough  of  the  mind  and 
spirit  of  the  Master.  Their  devotion  to  Him  was  unquestionable, 
but  there  was  still  too  much  unchristian  heat,  unholy  fire,  in  their 

1  W.  Chatterton  Dix. 

2  Matthew  Arnold,  St.  Paul  and  Protestantism. 


JAMES  THE  APOSTLE  143 

fervour.  They  had  not  yet  discovered  that  the  Christian  wins  his 
triumphs,  not  by  returning  evil  for  evil,  but  by  overcoming  evil 
with  good.  They  had  still  much  to  learn  and  unlearn  before  they 
could  understand  the  precept,  "  Love  your  enemies,  do  good  to 
them  that  hate  you,  bless  them  that  curse  you,  pray  for  them  that 
despitefully  use  you." 

In  a  sense  it  was,  of  course,  quite  natural  that  James  and  his 
brother  that  evening  should  feel  their  hearts  grow  hot  within 
them,  and  that  their  indignation  should  flame  out  so  fiercely 
against  the  churlish  Samaritans.  In  a  sense  it  is  always  natural 
for  strong  men  to  be  intolerant  of  those  who  oppose  and  thwart 
them.  But  things  are  not  always  right  because  they  are  natural. 
The  end  and  aim  of  true  religion  is  to  transcend  the  natural  by 
the  supernatural,  to  lift  us  above  ourselves  by  making  us  partakers 
of  the  Divine  nature,  to  subdue  the  wrath  of  man  by  giving  him 
a  vision  and  an  experience  of  the  love  of  God.  When  James  and 
his  brother  had  that  vision  and  that  experience  they  fulfilled  their 
destiny,  not  by  seeking  to  destroy  the  lives  of  others,  but  by  giving 
their  own  lives,  as  Christ  gave  His,  and  so  helping  to  create  that 
new  spirit  of  brotherly  love  which  will  in  the  long  run  break  down 
all  the  barriers  between  Jew  and  Samaritan,  Greek  and  barbarian, 
Slav  and  Magyar,  Celt  and  Teuton,  black  man  and  white,  making 
them  all  one  man  in  Christ  Jesus.  To-day  it  may  seem  almost  as 
impossible  as  it  seemed  twenty  centuries  ago.  But  with  God  all 
things  arc  possible,  and  all  things  are  possible  to  them  that  believe. 
"  That  stupid  word  impossible,"  said  Napoleon,  "  is  not  in  my 
vocabulary  " ;  but  he  had  to  admit  it  at  last.  Christ  alone  has 
never  admitted  it.  Listen  to  His  language:  "If  ye  have  faith  as 
a  grain  of  mustard  seed,  ye  shall  say  unto  this  mountain,  Kemove 
hence  to  yonder  place ;  and  it  shall  remove,"  and  again,  "  If  ye 
have  faith  as  a  grain  of  mustard  seed,  ye  would  say  unto  this 
sycamine  tree,  Be  thou  rooted  up,  and  be  thou  planted  in  the  sea ; 
and  it  would  have  obeyed  you." 

U  Faith,  no  larger  than  the  tiniest  mustard-seed,  but  able  to 
toss  the  mountains,  as  pebbles,  from  their  foundations,  into  the 
sea,  is  the  determination  to  do  the  thing  chosen  to  be  done  or  to 
die — literally  to  die — in  the  trying  to  do  it.  Death  is  farther 
from  most  of  us  than  we  fancy,  and  if  we  would  but  risk  all,  to 
win  or  lose  all,  we  could  almost  always  do  the  deed  which  looks 


144  JAMES  THE  APOSTLE 

so  grimly  impossible.  Those  who  have  faced  great  physical 
dangers,  or  who  have  been  matched  by  fate  against  overwhelming 
odds  of  anxiety  and  trouble,  alone  know  what  great  tilings  are  to 
be  done  when  men  stand  at  bay  and  face  the  world,  and  fate,  and 
life,  and  death,  and  misfortune,  all  banded  together  against  them, 
and  say  in  their  hearts,  "  We  will  win  this  fight  or  die."  Then,  at 
that  word,  when  it  is  spoken  earnestly,  in  sincerity  and  truth,  the 
iron  will  rises  up  and  takes  possession  of  the  feeble  body,  the 
doubting  soul  shakes  off  its  hesitating  weakness,  is  drawn  back 
upon  itself  like  a  strong  bow  bent  double,  is  compressed  arid  full 
of  a  terrible  latent  power,  like  the  handful  of  deadly  explosive 
which,  buried  in  the  bosom  of  the  rock,  will  presently  shake  the 
mighty  cliff  to  its  roots,  as  no  thunderbolt  could  shake  it.1 


III. 

AMBITIOUS  BY  NATURE  AND  BY  GRACE. 

1.  Ambition  was  the  third  trait  in  the  character  of  James 
which  needed  to  be  transmuted.  Ambition  is  the  strong  and 

O 

inordinate  desire  for  preferment,  honour,  pre-eminence,  superiority, 
power,  or  fame.  Conscious  of  a  great  enthusiasm  in  the  service 
of  Jesus,  and  assured  that  He  was  Israel's  promised  Messiah, 
James  and  his  brother  imagined  that,  as  the  privileged  disciples 
and  intimate  friends  of  Jesus,  they  had  an  incontestable  claim  to 
the  highest  rank  and  the  noblest  titles  in  the  coming  Kingdom. 
Nothing  less  would  satisfy  James  than  that  he  should  be  Christ's 
grand  vizier.  And  when  he  heard  the  Lord  say  to  Peter  at 
Csesarea  Philippi,  "  Thou  art  Peter,  and  upon  this  rock  I  will  build 
my  church,"  the  words  sent  a  pang  to  his  heart,  because  he  mis 
took  the  great  promise  for  a  personal  slight.  Brooding  over  the 
thought  that  Peter  might  stand  highest  in  honour  and  power,  he 
and  his  brother  determined  to  prevent  it. 

And  there  was  another  who  shared  their  ambition,  thinking 
nothing  too  good  for  them.  This  was  their  mother  Salome,  the 
sister  of  Mary  the  mother  of  Jesus.  Accompanied  by  her,  the 
two  disciples  came  and  cast  themselves  before  Jesus  in  an  attitude 
of  worship;  and  when  He  asked  them  what  they  desired,  they 
answered,  "Grant  unto  us  that  we  may  sit,  one  on  thy  right  hand, 

1  F.  Marion  Crawford,  The  Ciyarettc-MaTcer's  Romance,  chap.  U, 


JAMES  THE  APOSTLE  145 

and  one  on  thy  left  hand,  in  thy  glory."  According  to  Matthew 
it,  was  the  ambitious  mother  who  said  on  their  behalf,  "  Command 
that  these  my  two  sons  may  sit,  one  on  thy  right  hand,  and  one 
on  thy  left  hand,  in  thy  kingdom." 

Thus  they  all  laid  bare  their  jealous,  envious  hearts,  revealing 
at  the  same  time  their  blindness  to  spiritual  values,  their  ignorance 
of  the  true  nature  of  honours  and  rewards  in  Christ's  Kingdom. 
In  asking  for  the  first  places  there,  they  did  not  know  what  they 
were  saying.  If  even  in  the  kingdoms  of  this  world,  won  and 
maintained  by  the  sword,  the  post  of  honour  is  often  the  post  of 
danger,  what  is  the  law  of  promotion  in  the  kingdom  of  love  ?  In 
that  kingdom  every  true  and  faithful  follower  of  Jesus  has  in  some 
sense  to  drink  of  His  cup  and  to  be  baptized  with  His  baptism. 

2.  Jesus  asked  the  sons  of  Zebedee  if  they  were  able  to 
fulfil  these  conditions  of  service.  Had  they  the  moral  and 
spiritual  power  to  walk  in  His  footsteps  ?  It  was  a  searching 
question,  and  it  brought  out  again  the  nobler  side  of  the  men's 
character.  Even  if  their  unhesitating  and  confident  answer 
betrayed  an  imperfect  knowledge  of  what  the  cup  and  the  baptism 
meant,  it  at  any  rate  proved  their  implicit  faith  in  Christ,  and  their 
splendid  devotion  to  His  cause.  Whatsoever  He  saw  fit  to  require 
of  them  they  were  convinced  that  they  could  fulfil.  To  walk  in 
His  steps  and  share  His  experiences,  to  be  with  Him  in  doing  or 
in  suffering,  to  be  at  all  costs  identified  with  His  cause  and  Kingdom 
— that  was  the  only  life  they  cared  to  live,  and  for  that  service 
they  believed  they  had  the  power,  as  they  certainly  had  the  will. 
Not  therefore  with  foolish  boasting,  but  with  the  daring  of  a 
great  love,  they  answered,  "  We  are  able." 

It  was  a  noble  and  a  moving  answer;  and  even  if  there  was 
still  some  dross  in  the  gold,  some  forgetfulness  of  men's  need 
of  heavenly  power  to  help  them  in  the  evil  hour,  it  was 
essentiully  the  right  answer.  For  the  humility  that  makes  a  man 
say,  "/can  never  walk  in  the  steps  of  Christ;  I  can  never  drink 
of  His  cup  or  be  baptized  with  His  baptism,"  is  a  humility  which 
Jesus  not  only  does  not  love  but  entirely  repudiates.  In  truth 
He  loves  ambition  if  it  is  of  the  right  kind — the  ambition  which 
makes  men  aspire  to  be  fellow-workers  with  Him  and  fellow- 
sufferers  with  Him,  the  ambition  which  both  expects  great  things 

MARV-SIMUN — 10 


1 46  JAMES  THE  APOSTLE 

from  Him  and  attempts  great  things  for  Him.  There  is  no  limit 
to  the  ability  of  those  who  are  vitalized  by  His  spirit,  quickened 
by  His  grace.  "  I  can  do  all  things,"  said  Paul  to  the  Philippians, 
"through  Christ  which  strengthened  me."  To  the  students  of 
Edinburgh,  Henry  Drummond  used  to  say,  "  You  have  all  omni 
potence  behind  you,  and  you  cannot  fail."  "  Domine,"  said 
Augustine,  "  da  quod  jubes,  et  jube  quod  vis  " — "  Lord,  give  what 
Thou  commandest,  and  command  what  Thou  wilt." 

3.  Well  pleased  with  the  confident  answer  of  James  and  his 
brother,  Jesus  took  them  at  their  word.  He  knew  better  than 
they  did  what  the  cup  and  the  baptism  meant,  but  He  believed 
that  they  would  not  shrink  from  the  ordeal.  And  before  the 
testing  day  came  to  James  the  Apostle,  he  was  prepared  for  the 
destiny  that  awaited  him.  Till  the  day  of  his  death  he  was 
evidently  regarded  as  one  of  the  "  pillars  "  (<w)Xo/)  of  the  Church 
in  Jerusalem,  a  designation  afterwards  reserved  for  James  the 
Lord's  brother,  and  Peter,  and  John.  And  there  must  have  been 
a  reason  why  King  Herod  Agrippa  pitched  on  him  rather  than 
any  of  the  other  Apostles  as  his  first  victim.  James  was  chosen 
because  he  was  the  foremost  in  zeal  and  the  most  valiant  in 
utterance  among  them  all.  Though  still  in  the  prime  of  life,  he 
was  now  an  older  man  than  he  was  on  the  unforgotten  day  when 
Jesus  spoke  of  the  cup  and  the  baptism.  Twelve  years  had  passed, 
and  he  was  changed.  He  had  lost  all  his  intolerance,  except  the 
intolerance  of  sin ;  all  his  ambition,  except  the  ambition  to  serve 
Christ ;  and  if  he  retained  his  old  zeal,  it  was  now  a  pure  and 
holy  flame.  On  himself,  not  on  the  Samaritans,  had  fallen  the 
fire  of  heaven — the  Pentecostal  fire  of  Christian  love.  It  is  said 
that  no  heart  is  pure  which  is  not  passionate,  and  if  the  question 
was  asked  in  those  great  days  which  of  all  the  Apostles  had  the 
most  passionate  heart  and  the  most  fervent  speech,  everyone 
answered  without  hesitation,  "  James  the  son  of  Zebedee."  There 
fore  when  Herod,  in  the  spirit  of  his  grandsire,  who  half  a  century 
before  decreed  the  massacre  of  the  innocents,  resolved  to  destroy 
the  Church  in  Jerusalem,  he  was  well  advised  in  beginning  as  he 
did  with  James  the  brother  of  John.  And  if  James  heard  any 
rumour  of  the  danger  which  his  burning  evangelism  was  making 
for  himself,  he  was  in  no  wise  perturbed,  and  never  dreamed  of 


JAMES  THE  APOSTLE  147 

fleeing  from  the  Holy  City.  He  only  preached  the  more  earnestly, 
and  besought  men  the  more  fervently  to  accept  the  Messiah,  until 
suddenly  the  blow  fell.  And  then,  having  drunk  the  Lord's  cup 
and  received  His  baptism,  he  went  to  be  for  ever  with  Him. 

4.  Whether  he  took  his  seat  at  the  Lord's  right  or  left  hand, 
as  he  once  desired,  is  not  told.  His  reward  was  doubtless 
such  as  his  imagination  had  never  conceived,  but  nothing  is 
said  of  that.  History  emphasizes  the  bare  fact  of  his  death, 
saying  nothing  of  the  crown  of  life  which  he  won.  Enough  that 
by  his  example  he  inspired  one  knows  not  how  many  others  in 
the  Early  Church  to  endure  scorn  and  hatred  and  shame  and 
death,  teaching  them  that  they  were  able  to  face  the  worst  that 
man  could  do,  since  all  things,  including  love's  final  sacrifice, 
are  possible  to  them  that  believe.  Pioneer  in  the  as  yet 
almost  untrodden  path  of  suffering  for  Christ's  sake,  he  left 
a  name  which  inspired,  and  may  still  inspire,  the  manhood  of 
Christendom  to  bear  the  cross,  not  seeking  deliverance. 

They  climbed  the  steep  ascent  of  heaven, 

Through  peril,  toil,  and  pain : 
O  God,  to  us  may  grace  be  given 

To  follow  in  their  train. 

U  The  Church,  by  the  martyrdom  of  St.  James,  lost  in  her 
infancy  one  of  her  main  pillars ;  but  God  was  pleased  that  His 
name  should  be  glorified  by  so  illustrious  a  testimony,  and  that 
it  should  appear  He  was  the  immediate  supporter  and  defender  of 
His  Church.  For  when  it  was  deprived  of  its  chief  members  and 
pastors,  it  remained  no  less  firm  than  before  ;  and  even  grew 
and  gathered  strength  from  the  most  violent  persecutions.  The 
apostle  with  confidence  committed  his  tender  flock  to  God,  and 
commended  to  them  his  own  work,  whilst  he  rejoiced  to  go  to  his 
Redeemer,  and  to  give  his  life  for  Him.  We  all  meet  with  trials; 
but  can  we  fear  or  hesitate  to  drink  a  cup  presented  to  us  by  the 
hand  of  God,  and  which  OUT  Lord  and  Captain,  by  free  choice,  and 
out  of  pure  love,  wan  pleased  Himself  to  drink  first  for  our  sake  ? 
He  asks  us  whether  we  can  drink  of  His  cup,  lie  encourages  us  by 
setting  before  our  eyes  the  glory  of  heaven,  and  He  invites  us  by 
His  own  divine  example.  Let  us  humbly  implore  His  grace,  without 
which  we  can  do  nothing,  and  take  with  joy  this  cup  of  salvation 
which  He  presents  us  with  His  divine  hand.1 

1  Albau  Butler,  1'fw  Livtt  u/  the  Fallitrs,  Murtyr$  and  Other  XuuUs,  ii.  97. 


i48  JAMES  THE  APOSTLE 

Two  brothers  freely  cast  their  lot 

With  David's  royal  Son ; 
The  cost  of  conquest  counting  not, 

They  deem  the  battle  won. 

Brothers  in  heart,  they  hope  to  gain 

An  undivided  joy  ; 
That  man  may  one  with  man  remain, 

As  boy  was  one  with  boy. 

Christ  heard;  and  will'd  that  James  should  falL 

First  prey  of  Satan's  rage; 
John  linger  out  his  fellows  all, 

And  die  in  bloodless  age. 

Now  they  join  hands  once  more  above, 

Before  the  Conqueror's  throne ; 
Thus  God  grants  prayer,  but  in  His  love 

Makes  times  and  ways  His  own.1 
1  J.  H.  Newman. 


PHILIP. 


LITERATURE. 

Banks,  L.  A.,  Christ  and  His  Friends  (1895),  70,  81. 

Black,  H.,  Edinburgh  Sermons  (1906),  164. 

Brooke,  S.  A.,  The  Spirit  of  the  Christian  Life  (1902),  123. 

Creighton,  M.,  The  Heritage  of  the  Spirit  (1896),  129. 

Davies,  D.,  Talks  with  Men,  Women  and  Children,  v.  (1893)  591. 

Drummond,  R.  B.,  The  Christology  of  the  New  Testament  (1901),  97. 

Edwards,  F.,  These  Twelve  (1895),  7. 

Gladden,  W.,  Where  does  the  Sky  Begin  ?  (1904),  286. 

Greenhough,  J.  G.,  The  Apostles  of  Our  Lord  (1904),  75. 

Hankey,  W.  B.,  The  Church  and  the  Saints  (1907),  111. 

Hodges,  G.,  The  Human  Nature  of  the  Saints  (1905),  102. 

Holden,  J.  S.,  Redeeming  Vision  (1908),  63. 

Jones,  J.  D.,  The  Glorious  Company  of  the  Apostles  (1904),  109. 

Liddon,  H.  P.,  Sermons  on  Some  Words  of  Christ  (1892),  311. 

„  „       University  Sermons,  ii.  (1879)  1. 

Lightfoot,  J.  B.,  Cambridge  Sermons  (1890),  129. 
Lilley,  J.  P.,  Four  Apostles  (1912),  17. 
Lovell,  R.  H.,  First  Types  of  the  Christian  Life  (1895),  145. 
Maclaren,  A.,  A  Year's  Ministry,  ii.  (1888)  155. 
Matheson,  G.,  Representative  Men  of  the  New  Testament  (1905),  160 
Milligan,  G.,  The  Twelve  Apostles,  49. 
Pearson,  J.  B.,  Disciples  in  Doubt  (1879),  1. 
Plummer,  A.,  The  Humanity  of  Christ,  80. 
Rattenbury,  J.  K,  The  Twelve  (1914),  155. 
Simon,  D.  W.,  Twice  Born,  60. 
Skrine,  J.  H.,  Saints  and  Worthies  (1901),  20. 
Stimson,  H.  A.,  The  New  Things  of  God  (1908),  169. 
Telford,  J.,  The  Story  of  the  Upper  Room  (1905),  115. 
Trench,  R.  C.,  Studies  in  the  Gospek  (1867),  66. 
Westcott,  B.  F.,  Village  Sermons  (1906),  236. 
Dictionary  of  the  Bible,  iii.  (1900)  834  (H.  Cowan). 
Dictionary  of  Christ  and  the  Gospels,  ii.  (1908)  359  (G.  Milligan). 
Encyclopedia  Biblica,  iii.  (1902),  col.  3697  (P.  W.  Schmiedel). 
Expositor,  1st  Ser.,  i.  (1875)   29  (T.   T.   Lynch) ;   vi.  (1877)   445  (A 
Roberts). 


PHILIP. 

Philip  saith  unto  him,  Lord,  shew  us  the  Father,  and  it  sufficeth  us. — 
John  xiv.  8. 

1.  WE  know  but  little  about  the  characters  of  the  companions  of 
Jesus.  We  reverence  them  because  they  were  chosen  by  Him  to 
be  His  witnesses;  but  we  have  little  means  of  comparing  their 
lives  with  ours,  or  drawing  from  their  experiences  anything  that 
may  help  ourselves.  They  are  almost  as  remote  from  our 
struggles  as  the  chieftains  of  the  heroic  age  are  remote  from 
the  problems  of  modern  warfare.  They  stand  by  themselves  as 
examples  of  the  thoroughness  and  sufficiency  of  the  life  in  Christ. 
They  stand  unapproachable  patterns  of  quiet  strength,  of  unfailing 
joyousness,  of  large  hopefulness,  or  perfect  trust.  They  had  no 
room  for  the  doubts,  the  questionings,  the  despondencies,  the 
sense  of  struggle,  the  feelings  of  sadness,  which  overpower  the 
modern  mind,  and  were  inevitable  as  soon  as  the  Church  came 
into  conscious  antagonism  with  the  society  and  speculations  of  the 
world. 

Yet  though  this  is  the  great  lesson  to  be  learned  from 
reflection  on  the  companions  of  Jesus,  further  curiosity  about 
them  is  at  least  pardonable.  We  may  collect  the  brief  and 
fragmentary  notices  of  them  which  occur  in  the  gospel  narratives, 
and  so  construct  some  view  of  the  chief  characteristics  of  thought 
of  those  among  them  who  have  left  no  written  records  of  them 
selves.  In  this  attempt  our  criticism  unconsciously  follows  the 
example  set  by  pictorial  art.  It  was  natural  for  the  painter  to 
use  the  figures  of  the  Twelve  as  types  of  different  temperaments. 
It  was  natural  that  a  belief  in  the  universality  of  the  gospel 
message  should  loud  to  a  pious  wish  to  discover  in  the  earliest 
disciples  signs  of  varied  characters  and  divergent  impulses.  It 
was  natural  to  group  round  the  Person  of  the  Redeemer  men  of 
every  sort,  as  Leonardo  set  the  example  in  his  picture  of  The  Last 


PHILIP 

Supper.  Though  it  may  be  little  else  than  a  fancy,  it  is  a  fancy 
which  embodies  an  eternal  truth — the  truth  that  Jesus  draws  all 
manner  of  men  unto  Him,  and  can  satisfy  the  cravings  of  all 
manner  of  minds. 

2.  Philip  was  one  of  the  Twelve ;  and  that  is  all  that  we  learn 
about  him  from  the  first  three  Gospels.     It  is  the  Fourth  Gospel 
that  brings  him  before  us  as  an  individual  with  his  own  life  and 
character.      There  are  four  occasions   on   which   he  comes  into 
notice — first,  at  his  call ;  next,  in  connexion  with  the  feeding  of 
the   five   thousand ;  thirdly,  when  certain  Greeks   came    to  him 
and  said,  "  Sir,  we  would   see  Jesus " ;    and  lastly,  during  the 
discourse  in  the  Upper  Eoom  when  he  said  to  Jesus,  "  Lord,  shew 
us  the  Father,  and  it  sufficeth  us."     We  shall  take  these  occasions 
in  order,  and  when  we  have  observed  Philip's  behaviour  on  each 
occasion  we  shall  say  what  manner  of  man  we  think  he  was. 

3.  But  first  of  all  let  us  notice  that  he  came  from  Bethsaida 
in  Galilee  and  that  he  was  probably  one  of  the  disciples  of  John 
the  Baptist. 

(1)  He    came    from    Bethsaida.      "Now    Philip    was    from 
Bethsaida,  of   the  city  of  Andrew  and  Peter,"  says  John ;   and 
as  we  read  that  sentence  we  are  inclined  at  first  glance  just  to 
regard  it  as  a  geographical  note — Philip's  postal  address,  so  to 
speak.     But  this  is  more  than  a  geographical  note ;  it  is  a  link  in 
Philip's  spiritual  history.     This  is  more  than  the  mention  of  the 
place  of  Philip's  abode ;  it  gives  us  the  clue  and  key  to  Philip's 
religious  development.     The  important  part  of  the  sentence  is  not 
that  Philip  was  from  Bethsaida,  but  that  Bethsaida  was  the  city 
of  Andrew  and  Peter.     This  sentence  links  Philip  with  Andrew 
and  Peter.     It  reveals  to  us  not  his  mere  dwelling  but — what  is 
infinitely  more  important — his  friendships,  the   friendships   that 
shaped  and  moulded  his  character,  and  so  led  to  his  new  birth 
and  his  Apostolic  calling.     It  was  Philip's  good  fortune,  it  was 
his  happy  lot,  to  live  in  the  same  town  and  to  count  among  his 
friends  those  two  eminent  saints  of  God,  Andrew  and  Peter,  the 
sons  of  Jonas. 

(2)  Auain,   Philip   was   probably  one   of   John    the   Baptist's 
disciples.      He  always   stands  fifth   in    the   list   of   the  Twelve, 


PHILIP  153 

though  in  point  of  time  he  was  fourth  to  receive  the  call,  which 
came  to  him  the  day  after  Jesus  had  enlisted  Andrew  and  Peter 
(John  i.  43).  It  is  probable  that  he,  like  many  of  the  others,  had 
been  a  disciple  of  the  Baptist,  or  at  least  had  felt  the  stirrings  of 
that  prophet's  words,  and  had  thus  been  prepared  for  a  higher 
service.  The  work  of  that  God-sent  messenger  had  been  avowedly 
to  prepare  the  way  of  the  Lord,  and  not  the  least  effective  part  of 
it  had  been  done  upon  these  men  by  impressing  them  with  the 
conviction  that  the  coming  of  the  Messiah  was  at  hand,  and 
opening  their  minds  for  the  reception  of  Him.  We  can  trace  his 
influence  in  their  subsequent  thoughts  and  questionings.  His 
zeal  had  kindled  zeal  in  them  which  was  not  always  in  accord 
with  Christ's  gentler  spirit ;  but  his  courage  and  love  of  righteous 
ness  and  stern  hatred  of  wrongdoing  had  infused  an  element  of 
strength  into  their  character  which  Jesus  was  able  to  temper  and 
subdue  to  His  own  finer  mind.  He  "  rested  from  his  labours,  but 
his  works  did  follow  him " ;  and  it  was  to  him  doubtless,  along 
with  others,  that  our  Lord  referred  in  the  words,  "  I  sent  you  to 
reap  that  whereon  ye  bestowed  no  labour :  other  men  laboured, 
and  ye  are  entered  into  their  labours." 


PHILIP  AND  THE  MESSIAH. 

1.  Jesus  was  forming  an  inner  circle  of  disciplos  who  should 
come  out  more  openly  on  His  side  than  the  majority  of  those  who 
hoard  His  teaching.  Already  in  a  single  day  He  had  gathered 
three  from  among  the  disciples  of  the  Baptist,  namely,  Andrew 
and  his  brother  Simon  and  another  unnamed,  doubtless  the 
Evangelist  .John  himself;  for  here  he  writes  as  an  eye-witness. 
But  Jesus  felt  that  He  needed  more  followers,  and  after 
deliberation  He,  the  next  day,  moved  northward  from  Bethabara 
in  search  of  other  candidates.  In  the  course  of  His  journey  He 
remembered  Philip;  and,  finding  him,  He  addressed  to  him  the 
same  call  as  He  had  given  to  the  others. 

^|  Andrew  and  John  sought  Christ  and  found  Him.  To  (hem 
He  revealed  Himself  as  very  willing  to  be  approached,  and  glad 


154  PHILIP 

to  welcome  any  to  His  side.  Peter,  who  comes  next,  was  brought 
to  Christ  by  his  brother,  and  to  him  Christ  revealed  Himself  as 
reading  his  heart,  and  promising  and  giving  him  higher  functions 
and  a  more  noble  character.  But  "Jesus  findeth  Philip,"  who 
was  not  seeking  Jesus,  and  who  was  brought  by  no  one.  To  him 
Christ  reveals  Himself  as  drawing  near  to  many  a  heart  that  has 
not  thought  of  Him,  and  laying  a  masterful  hand  of  gracious 
authority  on  the  springs  of  life  and  character  in  that  autocratic 
word,  "  Follow  Me."  So  we  have  a  gradually  heightening  revela 
tion  of  the  Master's  graciousness  to  all  souls,  to  them  that  seek 
and  to  them  that  seek  Him  not.1 


2.  "Jesus  findeth  Philip,  and  said  unto  him,  Follow  me." 
No  doubt  a  great  deal  more  passed,  but  no  doubt  what  more 
passed  was  less  significant  and  less  important  for  the  develop 
ment  of  faith  in  this  man  than  what  is  recorded.  The  word  of 
authority,  the  invitation  which  was  a  demand,  the  demand  which 
was  an  invitation,  and  the  personal  impression  which  He  produced 
upon  Philip's  heart,  were  the  things  that  bound  him  to  Jesus 
Christ  for  ever.  "Follow  me,"  spoken  at  the  beginning  of  the 
journey  of  Christ  and  His  disciples  back  to  Galilee,  might  have 
meant  merely,  on  the  surface,  "Come  back  with  us."  But  the 
words  have,  of  course,  a  much  deeper  meaning.  They  mean — Be 
My  disciple. 

We  lose  the  force  of  the  image  by  much  repetition.  Sheep 
follow  a  shepherd.  Travellers  follow  a  guide.  Here  is  a  man 
upon  some  dangerous  cornice  of  the  Alps,  with  a  ledge  of 
limestone  as  broad  as  the  palm  of  your  hand,  and  perhaps 
a  couple  of  feet  of  snow  above  that  for  him  to  walk  upon,  a 
precipice  on  either  side ;  and  his  guide  says,  as  he  ropes  himself 
to  him,  "  Now,  tread  where  I  tread ! "  Travellers  follow  their 
guides.  Soldiers  follow  their  commanders.  There  is  the  hell  of 
the  battlefield;  here  a  line  of  wavering,  timid,  raw  recruits. 
Their  commander  rushes  to  the  front  and  throws  himself  upon 
the  advancing  enemy  with  the  one  word,  "  Follow ! "  And  the 
weakest  becomes  a  hero. 

"  Follow  me,"  says  Christ  to  you  and  me.  We  may  not  have 
mastered  all  the  subtleties  of  theology ;  like  Philip,  we  may  not 
even  realize  to  the  full  the  glory  of  Christ,  but  at  any  rate  we  see 

1  A.  Maelaren,  A  Year's  Ministry,  ii.  156. 


PHILIP  155 

in  Him  the  one  Leader  and  Guide  of  souls.  Let  us  follow  Him, 
therefore.  Let  us  say  with  the  American  poet — 

If  Jesus  Christ  is  a  man, — 

And  only  a  man, — I  say 
That  of  all  mankind  I  cleave  to  Him, 

And  to  Him  will  I  cleave  alway. 

If  Jesus  Christ  is  a  God, — 

And  the  only  God, — I  swear 
I  will  follow  Him  through  heaven  and  hell, 

The  earth,  the  sea,  and  the  air! 

And  following  Him,  like  Philip,  we  shall  come  into  the  light. 
"  He  that  followeth  me  shall  not  walk  in  darkness,  but  shall  have 
the  light  of  life." 

^[  In  an  address  on  "  Some  Types  of  Student  Life,"  Professor 
Charteris  instanced  Henry  Martyn  and  John  Mackintosh  ("  the 
Earnest  Student ")  as  cases  of  University  men  that  took  time  to 
cultivate  their  souls  whilst  doing  something  for  others  all  the 
while.  "  The  law  of  the  Life  of  God  is,"  he  added,  "  as  inexorable 
as  any  law  which  natural  science  has  disclosed  in  the  strata  of 
the  earth  or  in  the  mechanism  of  an  animal  frame.  That  law  is 
--that  we  follow  Christ,  that  we  seek  not  our  own  things  but  the 
things  of  others.  He  came  not  to  be  ministered  unto,  but  to 
minister.  And  you,  to  whom  professors  minister,  to  \vhom 
relatives  minister,  to  whom  vast  libraries  minister,  to  whom  do 
you  in  return  minister  of  such  things  as  ye  have  ?  Not  for  your 
own  sakes  at  all,  but  because  you  are  possessed  by  the  sense  of 
others'  need ;  not  for  the  return  you  will  get,  but  for  the  relief 
you  can  render ;  you  follow  Him 

Who  gave  Himself  most  earnestly  away, 
Not  thinking  of  the  grandeur  of  the  deed, 
But  of  the  souls  dying  for  need  of  Him. 

You  will  have  your  reward  if  you  don't  think  of  it  at  all ;  your 
souls'  peace  will  be  promoted  if  ye  are  peacemakers  for  others ; 
your  hold  of  Christ's  hand  will  make  you  follow  whither  He 
draws,  where  ignorance  has  to  be  taught,  and  pain  has  to  be 
soothed,  and  sorrow  brightened.  Would  you  like  to  learn  how 
little  you  know  ?  Try  to  teach  a  Sunday  class.  Would  you  like 
to  be  sure  of  your  grip  of  the  truth  ?  Visit  that  artisan  who 
doubts  it.  Would  you  like  to  follow  Christ  closely  ?  Then  you 


156  PHILIP 

must  go  where  He  still  goes,  as  in  Palestine — to  the  needy,  the 
suffering,  and  the  poor." l 

3.  Whenever  our  Lord  receives  a  new  disciple,  He  at  once 
gives  him  something  to  do.  So  we  read  that  "  Philip  findeth 
Nathanael."  One  cannot  help  thinking  that  he  went  in  search  of 
his  friend  at  the  instance  of  Jesus  Himself.  The  Lord  may  have 
known  Nathanael  in  private  life  as  one  who  stood  far  above  his 
associates.  Philip  at  least  knew  him,  and  was  fortunate  enougli 
to  meet  him  on  the  journey  north. 

How  intensely  interesting  is  the  meeting  of  the  two  friends. 
Nathanael  had  evidently  been  a  keen  student  of  the  Scriptures. 
He,  too,  was  eagerly  longing  to  see  the  great  One  of  whom  the 
Baptist  spoke.  At  this  very  time  he  seems  to  have  been  making 
a  strenuous  personal  preparation  to  receive  Him  aright,  when  lo ! 
Philip  meets  him,  and,  with  the  radiance  of  the  new  disclosure  of 
Jesus  still  fresh  upon  his  heart,  tells  him  that  at  last  the  object  of 
their  quest  has  been  discovered.  "  Philip  findeth  Nathanael  and 
saith  unto  him  :  Him  of  whom  Moses  in  the  Law  and  the  Prophets 
wrote  have  we  found,  Jesus  the  son  of  Joseph,  the  man  from 
Nazareth  " — for  thus,  following  the  order  of  the  original  Greek, 
we  may  render  the  statement. 

Thus  the  Church  begins.  One  man  makes  the  supreme 
discovery  and  comes  into  acquaintance  with  Jesus  of  Nazareth, 
and  straight  he  goes  and  tells  his  new  truth  to  another.  Read  the 
first  chapters  of  the  history  of  the  Christian  Church  as  they  are 
written  at  the  beginning  of  the  New  Testament,  and  see  how 
many  times  this  incident  is  repeated.  It  is  characteristic  of 
Christianity.  It  is  the  instinctive  motion  of  the  Christian.  One 
finds  another,  and  thus  the  Kingdom  of  God  comes. 

Nathanael  was  not  so  easily  won  by  Philip  as  Simon  was  by 
Andrew.  Pious  in  heart  as  he  was,  and  ready  to  accept  the  fulfil 
ment  of  Scripture,  he  had  certain  preconceived  ideas  which 
prevented  his  immediately  assenting  to  Philip's  good  tidings. 
For  the  present,  however,  we  must  leave  Nathauael's  prejudices 
alone.  What  we  have  to  deal  with  now  is  the  method  Philip  took 
to  disarm  him  of  his  objection.  Slow,  deliberate  men  can  be  very 
decided  when  fairly  roused,  and  this  is  the  very  spirit  in  which 

1  A.  Gordon,  The  Life  of  Archibald  Hamilton  Charteris,  500. 


PHILIP  157 

Philip  acts  here.     With  an  alacrity  quite  equal  to  that  of  Andrew, 
he  said  to  Nathanael,  "  Come  and  see." 

Observe  Philip's  way  of  dealing  with  NathanaeL  Philip  might 
have  argued,  either  that  the  popular  prejudice  against  Nazareth, 
which  Nathanael  quoted,  rested  on  no  sure  foundation,  or  that, 
whatever  its  truth,  Jesus  belonged  to  Nazareth  in  so  limited  and 
temporary  a  sense  that  the  reputation  of  the  place  did  not  touch 
Him  or  His  claim  to  fulfil  the  Messianic  prophecies.  This, 
perhaps,  would  have  been  our  modern  plan  of  meeting  the  objec 
tion.  Philip  takes  a  shorter  course.  His  object  is  not  to  put 
himself  argumentatively  in  the  right  by  vindicating  Nazareth,  or 
by  showing  that  it  does  not  stand  in  his  way ;  he  only  wants  to 
bring  Nathanael  into  the  Presence,  ay,  close  to  the  Person  of  the 
Son  of  God.  He  is  convinced  that  if  Nathanael  can  only  see  Him, 
speak  with  Him,  breathe  the  atmosphere  that  surrounds  Him,  feel 
the  Divine  majesty  and  tenderness  which  had  already  won  him 
self,  the  prejudice  against  Nazareth  will  simply  be  forgotten. 
"  Philip  saith  unto  him,  Come  and  see." 

IT  Philip's  answer,  "  Come  and  see,"  is  at  once  the  simplest  and 
profoundest  apologetics.  To  every  upright  heart  Jesus  proves 
Himself  by  showing  Himself.1 

II. 

PHILIP  AND  THE  MULTITUDE. 

1.  Jesus  has  crossed  the  Sea  of  Tiberias  and  has  reached  its 
eastern  shore.  Great  crowds  are  coming  in  the  same  direction — 
some  from  the  scattered  ranks  of  the  Baptist,  some  consisting  of 
the  pilgrims  to  the  Passover  at  Jerusalem.  Both  are  naturally 
drawn  to  Jesus — the  disciples  of  the  Baptist  by  a  kindred  associa 
tion,  the  Passover  pilgrims  by  a  spirit  of  devotion.  We  should 
have  thought  Jesus  would  have  grasped  the  moment  as  one 
eminently  adapted  to  the  spread  of  His  doctrines.  Strange  to 
say,  His  whole;  interest  seems  bent  upon  something  else.  He 
thinks  of  the  physical  well-being  of  that  crowd.  They  must 
already  he  hungry  and  faint  with  their  journey.  If  they  are  to 
interrupt  that  journey  to  listen  to  Him,  they  will  be;  more  faint 

'  F.  (jodet,  Commentary  on  the  dotyd  uj  bt.  Juhn,  i.  460, 


158  PHILIP 

and  hungry  still.  Accordingly,  Christ's  primal  care  is  for  their 
bodies,  their  food,  their  nourishment.  He  intends  that  before  all 
things  they  shall  receive  provision  for  their  temporal  wants.  But 
He  is  not  content  to  achieve  that ;  He  wishes  His  disciples  to  go 
along  with  Him,  to  sympathize  with  Him.  And  so  He  starts  a 
problem  of  political  economy — How  shall  we  procure  food  for  this 
multitude  ? 

2.  It   was   to   Philip    that   Jesus    put   the   question.     Philip 
answered  Him,  "  Two  hundred  penny  worth  of  bread  is  not  sufficient 
for   them,   that   every   one   may  take   a   little."      This   was   an 
eminently   practical   answer.      Philip  was   evidently  a  practical 
man.     He  was  acquainted  with  the  cost  of  things.     He  knew  how 
much   money   the    Apostolic   brotherhood   had   in    their   scanty 
treasury.     He   decided   at   once  that   this   generous   thought  of 
Christ's  could  not  be  executed.     It  would  take  too  much  money. 
Philip  was  a  man  who  had  some  idea  of  money.     What  he  would 
have  said  to  St.  Teresa's  project,  who  started  out,  it  is  said,  to  build 
a  hospital  having  two  halfpence  in  her  pocket,  and  saying,  "  Two 
halfpence  with  God  can  build  a  city  " — what  Philip  would  have 
said  to  that  sort  of  financing  we  cannot  say.     At  any  rate,  there 
is  no  mention  of  God  here.     The  bread  will  cost  so  much  money. 
We  have  not  that  amount  of  money ;  the  plan  cannot  be  carried 
out. 

3.  But  Jesus  was  quite  prepared.     As  John  puts  it,  "  He  him 
self  knew  what  he  would  do  " — knew,  that  is,  at  first  sight  of  the 
crowds   as  they  came  up    the  hill   from  the  shore  of   the  lake. 
When,  therefore,  towards  the  close  of  the  day,  the  disciples — and 
Philip  doubtless  with  the  rest — came  to  Jesus  and  said,  "Send 
the  multitudes  away,  that  they  may  go  into  the  villages,  and  buy 
themselves  food,"  Jesus  had  His  answer  ready :  "  They  have  no 
need  to  go  away ;   give  ye  them  to  eat."     We  can  imagine  the 
surprise  that  swept  over  the  heart  of   Philip  as  he  heard  these 
words.     Such  a  saying  looked  like  urging  them  to  do  what  they 
knew  to  be  utterly  impossible.     He  said  that  even  two  hundred 
pennyworth  of  bread  would  not  suffice.     Andrew  supported  Philip 
in   this  contention,  for  he  added,  "There  is  a  lad  here,  which 
hath  five  barley  loaves,  and  two  fishes :  but  what  are  these  among 


PHILIP  159 

so  many  ? "  Yet  Jesus  did  not  swerve  from  His  purpose.  The 
multitudes  were  to  be  fed,  and  the  disciples  themselves  were  to 
do  the  work.  His  only  reply  to  them  was  that  they  should 
bid  the  multitudes  recline  on  the  green  grass  and  prepare  for 
a  meal. 

Let  us  not  forget  Christ,  as  Philip  did.  That  was  the  very 
heart  of  his  failure,  and  the  secret  and  explanation  of  his  hasty 
and  self-sufficient  answer.  He  forgot  Christ.  We  must  remember 
Him.  In  all  the  difficulties  that  press  upon  us  in  our  generation, 
some  of  them  sociological,  some  of  them  theological ;  some  touch 
ing  the  problem  of  poverty,  some  touching  the  problem  of 
belief;  some  tempting  us  to  hasty  answer,  others  tempting  us 
to  a  self-sufficient  answer;  let  us  find  our  refuge  and  our  help  in 
the  sure  word  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 

Herein  you  proudly  erred, 
Here  may  the  source  of  woe  be  found, 
You  ... 

deemed  that  in  our  own  heart's  ground 
The  root  of  good  was  to  be  found, 
And  that  by  careful  watering 
And  earnest  tendance  we  might  bring 
The  bud,  the  blossom,  and  the  fruit 
To  grow  and  flourish  from  that  rooL 
You  deemed  we  needed  nothing  more 
Than  skill  and  courage  to  explore 
Deep  down  enough  in  our  own  heart, 
To  where  the  well-head  lay  apart, 
Which  must  the  springs  of  being  feed, 
And  that  these  fountains  did  but  need 
The  soil  that  choked  them  moved  away, 
To  bubble  in  the  open  day. 
lint,  thanks  to  heaven,  it  is  not  so, 
That  root  a  richer  soil  doth  know 
Than  our  poor  hearts  could  e'er  supply, 
That  stream  is  from  a  source  more  high; 
From  God  it  came,  to  God  returns, 
Not  nourished  from  our  scanty  urns, 
.But  fed  from  His  unfailing  river, 
Which  runs  and  will  run  on  for  ever.1 
1  U.  0.  Trench,  Votms,  7. 


1 60  PHILIP 

III. 

PHILIP  AND  THE  GREEKS. 

Philip,  in  the  latest  days  of  Christ's  ministry,  was  made  the 
instrument  of  a  wondrously  practical  work  quite  on  the  lines  of 
his  search  for  Nathanael.  If  we  were  suddenly  asked  the  question, 
Which  of  the  Christian  disciples  brought  the  earliest  help  to  the 
Gentiles  ?  we  should  probably  say  "  Paul "  or  "  Peter  "  or  "  Stephen." 
But  in  truth  there  was  one  before  any  of  these — it  was  Philip. 
After  our  Lord  Himself,  the  first  who  spoke  a  word  to  the  Gentiles 
was  this  obscure  man  of  Bethsaida.  Before  Peter  had  called 
Cornelius,  before  Stephen  had  lifted  his  voice,  before  Paul  had 
raised  his  banner,  Philip  had  brought  a  Gentile  band  into  the 
presence  of  Jesus.  True,  they  were  the  descendants  of  Jews ; 
but  they  had  been  born  in  a  foreign  land,  bred  in  a  foreign  culture, 
trained  in  foreign  ideas.  They  had  become  Greeks  in  nationality, 
Greeks  in  education,  Greeks  in  taste,  Greeks  in  manner.  But  they 
had  heard  of  the  fame  of  Jesus,  and  they  longed  to  see  Him.  Their 
pride  in  the  old  ancestry  was  not  dead.  They  were  glad  that 
where  their  fathers'  homes  had  been  there  had  risen  a  great  light. 
How  were  they  to  gaze  upon  that  light  ?  The  Jews  would  now 
despise  them,  count  them  aliens.  Yet  they  would  try.  The 
Passover  Feast  was  coming  on  ;  they  would  go  up  to  Jerusalem ; 
perchance  someone  might  show  them  the  new  star.  They  came ; 
and  they  are  gladdened  by  a  discovery.  Among  the  names  of 
Christ's  inner  circle  they  heard  of  one  which  was  Greek — Philip. 
They  were  attracted  by  the  kindred  sound.  Is  not  this  the  man 
to  lead  them  to  Jesus — a  man  with  an  affinity  of  name  to  the 
names  of  their  own  countrymen  ?  And  so  Philip  becomes  the 
medium  of  the  first  Gentile  wave.  To  him  is  it  granted  to  open 
the  door.  To  him  is  committed  the  privilege  of  unveiling  the 
Christ  to  the  eyes  of  other  lands.  To  him,  above  all,  is  assigned 
the  glory  of  performing  the  great  marriage  between  the  East  and 
the  West,  and  of  joining  the  hand  of  Europe  to  the  hand  of 
Asia! 

Philip  did  not  lead  them  at  once  to  the  Master,  but  first  con 
sulted  Andrew  and  acted  in  harmony  with  him.  In  this  action 
we  find  at  once  a  fresh  revelation  of  this  Apostle's  charactei 


PHILIP  161 

as  well  as  ;\  now  stage  in  his  missionary  training.  Philip 
gathered  confidence  as  tie  drew  near  to  a  man  who  appears  to 
have  been  more  closely  associated  with  him  than  the  rest,  and 
who,  as  stated,  bore  not  a  Jewish  name — though  both  were  Jews 
—but  Greek,  like  himself.  "  Philip  cometh  and  telleth  Andrew." 
As  the  Greeks  watched,  they  saw  the  two  men  among  the  Twelve 
who  bore  Greek  names  talking  the  matter  over.  What  additional 
confidence  they  would  gain  from  that  incident !  Observe  that 
Andrew  at  once  takes  the  precedence  in  the  record.  Philip  was 
all  very  well  when  alone,  but  when  he  came  into  touch  with 
Andrew  he  immediately  became  second. 

TI  I  shall  never  forget  when  Mr.  Spurgeon  came  to  this  chapel 
one  week-day.  He  looked  round,  and,  standing  in  this  very  place, 
said  to  me,  "  Brother  Davies,  it  is  not  every  stylish  chapel  that  I 
like,  but  I  like  this."  He  had  just  been  in  the  caretaker's  house, 
and  admired  it,  and,  in  his  own  inimitable  fashion,  then  added, 
4  Look  here,  will  you  have  me  as  a  caretaker  ? "  I  replied 
emphatically,  "  No ;  you  stay  where  you  are.  I  know  who  the 
caretaker  will  be  if  you  come."  I  acted  instantly  on  the  instinct 
of  self-preservation.  I  knew  into  what  position  I  should  very 
soon  subside  if  he  were  here.  Mr.  Spurgeou  away,  I  might  do 
for  pastor;  but,  with  Mr.  Spurgeon  here,  I  should  naturally  i'all 
into  the  post  of  caretaker.1 

IV. 

PHILIP  AND  THE  FATHER. 

1.  The  last  time  that  we  hear  the  voice  of  Philip  is  the  most 
memorable  of  all.  It  was  in  the  Upper  Koorn  in  Jerusalem. 
Our  Lord  was  seeking  to  comfort  His  disciples  at  His  approaching 
departure.  Thomas  asked  for  fuller  information  when  the  Master 
spoke  about  going  somewhere,  which  He  calls  the  Father's  House. 
Part  of  Christ's  reply  was  that  to  know  Himself  was  to  know  the 
Father  also.  "  And  from  henceforth,"  He  added,  "  ye  know  him 
and  have  seen  him."  Philip's  request  shows  that  he  did  not 
understand  the  inference  of  these  words ;  for  he  interrupted  with 
the  prayer,  "  Lord,  shew  us  the  Father,  and  it  sufficeth  us." 

Now  in  that  prayer  Philip  expressed  a  longing  that  is  not  only 

1  D.  Davits,  Talks  with  Men,  Wvmtn  and  Children,  T.  695. 
MAKY-SIMON — II 


1 62  PHILIP 

legitimate,  but  really  irresistible,  in  every  quickened  soul.  It  is 
simply  the  desire  to  get  at  the  fountain-head  of  the  Divine  life. 
In  the  ministry  of  Jesus  Philip  saw  the  clearest  tokens  of  the 
presence  of  God ;  but  like  the  ardent  explorer  who  looks  at  the 
lower  reaches  of  a  stream  and  wishes  that  he  could  ascend  to  the 
great  lake  amidst  the  mountains  where  it  takes  its  rise,  Philip 
longs  to  have  some  nearer,  fuller  manifestation  of  the  holy  and 
blessed  Father,  in  whom  Jesus,  His  Son,  lived  and  spoke  and 
wrought. 

If  Someone  told  Tennyson  that  his  chief  desire  was  to  leave 
the  world  a  little  better  than  he  found  it.  Tennyson  replied, 
"  My  chief  desire  is  to  have  a  new  vision  of  God." 

A  touch  divine — 

And  the  scaled  eyeball  owns  the  mystic  rod ; 
Visibly  through  his  garden  walketh  God.1 

2.  It  was  a  devout  and  sincere  wish,  but  in  a  disciple  of  Jesus 
it  was  a  very  disappointing  one;  for  it  put  the  emphasis  on  the 
wrong  thing.  It  asked  for  some  startling  outward  revelation  that 
would  convince  every  observer,  without  thinking  how  little  such 
a  revelation  was  worth.  The  revelation  that  Jesus  was  making 
was  one  of  God's  nature  and  character  and  essential  being,  not  an 
outside  attestation  of  His  existence,  which  from  the  point  of  view 
of  religion  meant  nothing.  It  was  not  unbelief  that  prompted 
Philip's  difficulty.  It  was  slowness  of  understanding,  defective 
spiritual  apprehension,  obtuseness,  ignorance. 

The  answer  of  Jesus  was  not  a  refusal,  but  it  was  a  suggestive 
rebuke :  "  Have  I  been  so  long  time  with  you,  and  dost  thou  not 
know  me,  Philip  ? "  Philip  had  not  understood  the  difference 
between  the  revelation  of  the  Lord  and  the  revelation  of  the 
Father.  God,  as  the  Lord,  was  made  known  by  the  thunders  and 
lightnings  and  trumpet-blast  of  Sinai.  God,  as  the  Lord,  spoke 
by  the  mouth  of  a  human  prophet,  whom  the  vision  of  His  glory 
might  strengthen  for  the  accomplishment  of  his  high  mission. 
God,  as  the  Father,  was  made  known  by  the  human  life  of  His 
Son,  which  was  to  carry  home  to  the  hearts  of  men  the  sense  of 
their  own  share  in  that  sonship.  The  revelation  of  Jesus  was  not 
1  Browning,  Sordcllo,  bk.  i.  1.  502. 


PHILIP  163 

a  renewal  of  the  former  revelation  of  the  "  Lord  of  the  whole 
earth,"  but  was  an  extension  of  that  revelation :  "  God  with  us." 
The  request  of  Philip  was  not  merely  an  unauthorized  tempting 
of  God,  not  merely  a  demand  that  something  should  be  done 
specially  for  his  own  individual  satisfaction ;  it  involved  a  contra 
diction  of  all  that  Jesus  had  come  to  declare.  The  glory  of  the 
Lord,  the  power  of  the  Lord,  the  majesty  of  the  Lord — these 
might  be  made  known  by  the  sign  which  Philip  sought.  But  the 
love  of  the  Father  could  not  be  made  known  by  any  awful  or  com 
manding  vision.  It  had  been  made  known  already  by  the  life  of 
Jesus ;  it  was  to  be  further  manifested  by  His  death.  Jesus  was 
preparing  His  disciples  for  His  approaching  departure,  was 
summing  up  the  meaning  of  all  that  He  had  done  and  said : 
"From  henceforth  ye  know  the  Father,  and  have  seen  him." 
Philip's  request  showed  that  his  inind  was  travelling  along  a 
mistaken  road.  He  had  failed  to  grasp  the  meaning  which 
underlay  the  whole  message  of  Jesus:  "Have  I  been  so  long 
time  with  you,  and  dost  thou  not  know  me,  Philip  ? " 

TI  The  love  of  God  is  the  love  of  Christ.  How  can  I  love 
Nature  ?  Yet — look  at  an  open  wild-rose.1 

^[  I  read  of  a  boy  who  found  himself  alone  during  a  nutting 
expedition.  It  was  at  a  spot  where  no  one  had  been  before  him. 
Not  a  branch  was  broken ;  the  nuts  hung  in  great  clusters.  He 
sat  down  and  tried  to  enjoy  the  pleasures  of  anticipation.  Over 
head,  the  brandies  were  so  closely  intertwined  that  no  sky  was 
to  be  seen.  He  heard  the  ripple  of  the  little  burn.  He  could 
not  see  it.  But  he  cared  not ;  he  just  kept  thinking  for  a 
minute  or  two  what  a  "  ripping  "  time  he  was  going  to  liave.  Then 
he  rose,  tore  down  the  hazel  branches,  roughly  spoiled  them  of 
their  nuts,  ate,  and  pocketed.  He  was  rich  beyond  the  wealth  of 
kings.  But  when  at  last  he  sat  down,  he  looked  up  to  see  the 
broken  branches.  The  clear  blue  sky  looked  down  upon  him. 
The  world  was  bigger  than  he  thought.  It  was  God's  world.2 

With  thoughts  too  lovely  to  be  true, 
With  thousand,  thousand  dreams  I  strew 
The  path  that  you  must  come.     And  you 
Will  find  but  dew. 

1  Mark  Rutherford,  Last  Pages  from  a  Journal,  301. 
•  Tht,  Expository  Times,  October  191f»,  p.  18. 


1 64  PHILIP 

I  set  an  image  in  the  grass, 
A  shape  to  smile  on  you.     Alas ! 
It  is  a  shadow  in  a  glass, 
And  so  will  pass. 

I  break  my  heart  here,  love,  to  dower 
With  all  its  inmost  sweet  your  bower. 
What  scent  will  greet  you  in  an  hour  ? 
The  gorse  in  flower.1 

3.  Here,  then,  is  the  place  to  review  the  character  of  Philip. 
We  have  seen  him  on  four  occasions,  all  interesting  and  revealing, 
but  the  last  occasion  is  the  most  revealing  of  all.  We  notice  three 
characteristics. 

(1)  Philip  was  plainly  an  inquirer.  The  patient  inquirer  comes 
out  in  the  description  of  Jesus  he  gives  to  Nathanael.  "  We  have 
found  him,"  says  Philip,  "  of  whom  Moses  in  the  law  and  the 
prophets  did  write."  Andrew  and  John  followed  Christ  on  the 
testimony  of  the  Baptist  and  at  the  bidding  of  their  own  hearts. 
But  Philip  accepted  Him,  and  followed  because  he  found  that 
Christ  satisfied  the  descriptions  given  in  the  Old  Testament.  Yes, 
Philip  brought  out  Moses  and  the  prophets  and  tested  Christ  by 
them  and  accepted  Him  because  he  saw  that  what  they  had 
written  was  fulfilled  in  Him.  The  same  habit  of  patient  and 
accurate  examination  and  inquiry  comes  out  in  the  incident  of 
the  feeding  of  the  five  thousand.  Jesus,  at  a  certain  point  in  the 
day's  proceedings,  turned  to  Philip  with  the  question,  "  Whence 
are  we  to  buy  bread,  that  these  may  eat  ? "  And  this  He  said  to 
prove  him.  Jesus  knew  His  disciple;  He  knew  his  inquiring 
mind.  He  knew  that  Philip  would  have  been  making  his 
computations.  And  so  he  had.  "Two  hundred  pennyworth  of 
bread,"  answered  Philip  promptly,  "is  not  sufficient  for  them,  that 
every  one  may  take  a  little."  Philip  had  been  working  it  all  out 
in  his  head,  and  was  ready  with  his  answer.  It  was  for  his 
inquiring  and  candid  mind,  probably,  that  the  Greeks  chose  him 
out  of  all  the  Apostles  as  the  one  to  whom  they  would  make  their 
request  to  see  Jesus.  "  Their  turning  to  him,"  says  Lange, 
"  depended  upon  a  law  of  kindly  attraction."  His  own  inquiring 
spirit  would  naturally  put  him  in  sympathy  with  these  inquiring 
1  Thr  Collected  Poems  of  Margaret  L.  U'oods,  142. 


PHILIP  165 

Greeks.  And  the  same  inquiring  temper  comes  out  in  that 
memorable  request  which  Philip  made  in  the  Upper  Koorn  on  the 
night  in  which  He  was  betrayed :  "  Lord,  shew  us  the  Father,  and 
it  sufticeth  us."  That,  then,  is  the  Philip  of  the  Gospels — a  man 
of  inquiring  and  interrogative  mind,  a  man  intent  upon  proving 
and  testing  everything. 

An  inquiring  spirit — properly  so  called — is  of  the  utmost 
importance  in  every  department  of  human  activity  and  achieve 
ment.  It  is  those  who  have  been  in  the  habit  of  asking  questions 
of  Nature,  and  pressing  for  answers  to  them,  that  have  been 
chiefly  instrumental  in  extending  the  boundaries  of  knowledge. 
Others  have  been  satisfied  with  what  was  already  ascertained. 
They  have  been  content  to  be  hemmed  in  by  that  circle  of  dark 
ness  which  surrounded  them,  and  have  made  no  attempt  to 
explore  its  mysteries,  or  to  widen  the  circumference  within  which 
the  light  of  science  is  enjoyed.  But  inquisitive  and  reflecting 
minds,  by  the  unceasing  questions  which  they  put,  have  laboured 
to  add  something  to  the  amount  of  man's  knowledge,  and  have 
thus,  at  times,  been  led  by  the  simplest  incidents  to  a  discovery  of 
some  of  the  most  dominant  and  comprehensive  laws  of  the 
universe.  It  is  those  who  follow  up  science  to  her  most  advanced 
outpost,  and  who,  while  standing  there,  inquire  if  it  be  not  possible 
to  take  yet  a  further  step,  and  to  bring  something  more  of  earth 
and  heaven  within  the  domain  of  human  cognizance,  that  are  the 
real  contributors  to  the  advancement  and  elevation  of  our  race. 
Others  may  conserve,  but  they,  as  it  were,  create.  Others  may 
be  silent  and  receptive,  but  they  are  inquiring  and  communicative. 
And  although  many  of  their  inquiries  may  not  be  answered  by 
themselves,  or  in  their  own  day,  yet,  by  instituting  them,  they 
have  given  an  impulse  and  direction  to  the  human  mind,  which 
will,  in  all  probability,  hereafter  lead  to  the  desired  success. 
Again  and  again  has  this  proved  to  be  the  case.  All  those 
marvellous  discoveries  and  equally  marvellous  applications  of 
science,  as  also  all  those  social  improvements,  those  deliverances 
from  long-prevalent  errors  and  superstitions,  which  our  own  day 
has  so  largely  witnessed,  have  flowed  from  the  efforts  of  men  who 
were  bold  enough  to  put  some  question  which  others  had  never 
asked,  or  to  follow  out  to  their  proper  results  inquiries  which  had 
been  suggested  by  their  predecessors. 


1 66  PHILIP 

Now  this  spirit  of  reflection  and  inquiry,  BO  valuable  in  other 
departments,  is  also  of  great  importance  within  the  province  of 
religion.  It  is  melancholy  to  think  of  the  multitudes  who  hold 
what  faith  they  have  in  the  gospel  simply  as  a  matter  of  tradition. 
They  have  shown  none  of  the  spirit  of  Philip  in  examining  into 
the  grounds  on  which  their  belief  rests ;  and  hence  they  have  not 
attained  an  intelligent  and  established  faith.  The  evil  consequence 
is  twofold.  On  the  one  hand,  many  of  the  class  referred  to  cling 
to  their  traditional  beliefs  with  an  obstinacy  which  takes  no 
account  of  reason,  and  which  is  fatal  to  all  progressive  spiritual 
enlightenment.  On  the  other  hand,  numbers  who  have  taken  no 
pains  to  be  able  to  "  give  a  reason  of  the  hope  that  is  in  them  " 
are  apt  to  be  carried  away  by  any  wind  of  doctrine  which  happens, 
for  the  time,  to  prevail — by  any  sort  of  heresy  or  scepticism 
which  enjoys  a  temporary  power  and  popularity.  Nothing,  then, 
is  more  important  than  to  cherish  a  spirit  of  earnest  and  sustained 
inquiry  with  respect  to  all  that  falls  within  the  domain  of  religion. 
There  should  be  a  sincere  desire  for  "  light,"  and  for  "  more  light." 

If  In  nature  we  see  no  bounds  to  our  inquiries.  One  discovery 
always  gives  hints  of  many  more,  and  brings  us  into  a  wider  field 
of  speculation.  Now,  why  should  not  this  be,  in  some  measure, 
the  case  with  respect  to  knowledge  of  a  moral  and  religious  kind. 
Is  the  compass  of  religious  knowledge  so  small,  as  that  any 
person,  however  imperfectly  educated,  may  comprehend  the  whole, 
and  without  much  trouble  ?  This  may  be  the  notion  of  such  as 
read  or  think  but  little  on  the  subject ;  but  of  what  value  can 
such  an  opinion  be  ? 

If  we  look  back  into  ecclesiastical  history,  we  shall  see  that 
every  age,  and  almost  every  year,  has  had  its  peculiar  subjects  of 
inquiry.  As  one  controversy  has  been  determined,  or  sufficiently 
agitated,  others  have  always  arisen;  and  I  will  venture  to  say 
there  never  was  a  time  in  which  there  were  more,  or  more 
interesting,  objects  of  discussion  before  us  than  there  are  at 
present.  And  it  is  in  vain  to  flatter  ourselves  with  the  prospect 
of  seeing  an  end  to  our  labours,  and  of  having  nothing  to  do  but 
to  sit  down  in  the  pleasing  contemplation  of  all  religious  truth, 
and  reviewing  the  intricate  mazes  through  which  we  have  happily 
traced  the  progress  of  every  error.1 

(2)  But  secondly,  Philip  was  a  practical,  straightforward, 
common-sense  man.  This  emerges  without  its  limitations  in  his 

1  Dr.  Joseph  Priestley,  Theological  and  Miscellaneous  Works,  xv.  72. 


PHILIP  167 

interview  with  NathanaeL  Nathanael  was  a  dreamer,  a  fine  and 
beautiful  soul,  but  lacking  activity.  Philip  shows  his  common 
sense  in  declining  to  argue  with  him.  Nathauael  could  have 
proved  to  his  own  satisfaction  that  it  was  utterly  impossible  for 
the  Messiah  to  come  from  a  place  like  Nazareth;  and  since  he 
had  a  far  better  knowledge  of  the  Scriptures  than  Philip,  Philip 
would  have  been  confounded  if  he  had  entered  into  that  argument. 
He  knew  what  type  of  man  Nathanael  was,  and  he  knew  it  was 
not  very  safe  to  enter  into  an  argument  with  him.  He  positively 
refuses  to  argue  with  the  theoretical  man,  the  mystical  man,  the 
dreamer.  He  lays  rough  hands  upon  him  and  says,  "  Come  and 
see  ! "  There  you  have  the  practical  attitude,  and  that  practical 
attitude  of  a  man  like  Philip,  who  knows  a  fact,  who  has  realized 
the  truth  in  Jesus,  is  entirely  admirable. 

We  see  Philip's  common  sense  again  in  the  feeding  of  the 
multitudes.  There  are  five  thousand  people.  Now,  what  would 
a  church  treasurer  be  likely  to  say  if  there  were  five  thousand 
people  to  feed,  with  five  loaves  and  two  small  fishes  ?  Have  you 
ever  known  a  church  treasurer  who  would  say  anything  but 
"Impossible!"  He  would  do  precisely  what  Philip  did.  Philip 
made  a  quick,  probably  accurate,  common-sense  calculation  of  the 
material  resources  at  hand.  It  would  cost  two  hundred  pence  to 
feed  that  multitude,  and  they  had  not  two  hundred  pence.  It 
simply  could  not  be  done. 

His  character  is  again  revealed  in  the  interview  with  the 
Greeks.  It  is  the  attitude  of  a  man  who  could  be  depended  upon 
for  carrying  out  instructions  exactly,  that  he  should  be  doubtful 
about  bringing  these  Greeks  to  Jesus.  What  Jesus  had  said 
had  seemed  so  definite,  so  plain,  so  clear.  He  came  to  seek  the 
lost  sheep  of  the  house  of  Israel.  The  Greeks  were  eager  to 
get  to  Jesus,  but  Philip  was  very  doubtful  how  they  should  be 
treated. 

And  finally,  in  the  Upper  Room,  we  see  precisely  the  same 
explicit  temper.  He  is  a  man  who  wants  to  handle  and  feel  and 
see.  He  wants  something  tangible.  The  impalpable,  shadowy 
things  are  so  diflicult  to  grasp,  so  difficult  for  him  to  interpret 
and  explain ;  let  the  whole  thing  be  put  into  a  revelation  of  the 
Father,  let  him  see  with  his  own  eyes,  handle  with  his  own  hands, 
and  then  it  will  be  sufficient  for  him. 


1 68  PHILIP 

TJ  How  little  of  that  which  makes  up  life  is  visible  or  tangible ! 
We  habitually  speak  and  act  as  if  there  were  certain  realities  with 
which  we  are  in  such  immediate  contact  that  we  constantly  see 
and  touch  them;  they  exist  beyond  all  question  because  their 
existence  is  evident  to  the  senses.  The  man  who  is  willing  to 
accept  nothing  of  the  being  and  nature  of  which  he  has  not  ocular 
or  tangible  proof  accepts  these  things  as  realities ;  all  the  rest  he 
dismisses  as  dreams,  or  rejects  as  incapable  of  demonstration. 
And  he  does  this,  in  many  cases,  because  he  believes  that  this  is 
the  only  course  open  to  one  who  means  to  preserve  absolute 
integrity  of  intellect  and  to  be  entirely  honest  with  himself  and 
with  life.  A  man  of  this  temper  is  ready  to  believe  only  that 
which  he  thinks  he  knows  by  absolute  contact ;  there  is  much 
else  he  would  like  to  believe,  but  he  will  not  permit  himself  a 
consolation  or  comfort  based  on  a  hope  which  the  imagination,  or 
the  heart  or  the  mind  working  without  regard  for  certain  laws  of 
evidence,  which  he  arbitrarily  makes,  has  turned  into  a  reality. 
Many  honest  men  go  through  life  and  will  not  see  God  because 
they  have  bolted  all  the  doors  through  which  God  can  enter  and 
reveal  Himself. 

Dr.  Bushnell,  in  a  moment  of  insight,  once  pictured  to  a  friend 
with  whom  he  was  talking  the  making  of  man.  And  after  man 
was  made  in  His  own  image  God  said,  "He  is  complete";  and 
then  He  added :  "  No ;  there  is  no  way  in  which  I  can  approach 
him.  I  will  open  the  great  door  of  the  Imagination  in  his  soul, 
so  that  I  may  have  access  to  him."  And  this  great  door,  which 
opens  outward  upon  the  whole  sweep  and  splendour  of  the 
universe,  some  men  bolt  and  bar  as  if  it  were  an  unlawful  and 
illicit  entrance  to  the  soul ! l 

(3)  Now  the  inquiring,  straightforward,  practical  mind  is 
excellent  in  its  way,  but  it  has  limits  of  its  own  creation  which 
prevent  it  from  discerning  the  deeper  truths  of  man's  spiritual 
life. 

There  are  always  men  and  women  who  are  like  Philip  in  their 
practical  enlightenment.  Sometimes  a  little  more,  sometimes  a 
little  less,  and  the  gospel  of  Christ  would  suffice  them.  There  are 
sincere,  serious,  thoughtful  souls,  who  claim  to  have  thought 
things  out  for  themselves.  All  fits  together,  and  points  clearly  in 
one  direction;  the  last  remaining  conclusion  only  needs  to  be 
clearly  stated,  and  all  will  be  well.  The  Christian  system 
will  then  be  in  accordance  with  the  needs  of  the  highest  minds, 

1  II.  W.  Mabie,  The  Life  of  tlie  Spirit,  222. 


PHILIP  169 

and  will  be  unassailable.  There  is  always  a  cry  for  this  step  to 
be  taken,  this  compromise  made.  There  is  always  the  honest, 
heartfelt  plea,  "  One  further  admission,  and  it  sufticeth  us."  We 
have  need  to  recall  the  words  of  Jesus :  "  Have  I  been  so  long 
time  with  you,  and  dost  thou  not  know  me  ? "  We  can  give  no 
other  account  of  Jesus  than  St.  Paul  gave — to  some  a  stumbling- 
block,  to  others  foolishness,  but  to  those  who  receive  Him,  the 
power  of  God  and  the  wisdom  of  God.  The  Church  rests  on  a 
definite  foundation,  Jesus  Christ,  the  Son  of  God,  the  one  revela 
tion  of  the  Father.  Those  who  demand  some  modification  of  this 
basis  urge  the  needs  of  their  individual  satisfaction.  It  has  been 
well  said,  "They  confound  the  right  of  the  individual,  which  is  to 
be  free,  with  the  duty  of  an  institution,  which  is  to  be  something." 
Philip  thought  that  he  was  justified  in  making  a  small  demand 
for  the  satisfaction  of  his  own  honest,  upright,  conscientious  soul. 
He  did  not  see  that  his  demand  involved  a  contradiction  of  all 
that  Jesus  had  come  to  declare.  With  all  his  reasonableness,  he 
had  taken  only  an  outside  view  of  the  matter.  He  needed  some 
glow  of  enthusiasm,  some  spark  of  emotion,  some  touch  of  his 
spiritual  being  to  raise  him  to  a  higher  level,  to  make  him  capable 
of  a  larger  view.  Then  he  could  understand  that  Jesus  had  not 
come  to  satisfy  the  outworn  traditions  of  his  early  training, 
the  problems  of  society  or  politics  among  which  he  lived,  the 
questionings  which  outward  circumstances  suggested.  He  had 
come  to  raise  him  to  newness  of  life,  to  carry  him  into  a  higher 
world  than  the  world  of  sense,  where,  moving  in  a  larger  sphere, 
he  might  feel  and  know  that  "God  is  light,  and  in  him  is  no 
darkness  at  all."  So  it  is  still,  and  so  it  must  ever  be.  There  are 
limits  to  the  sensible,  practical  spirit  as  applied  to  religion.  It 
deals  admirably  with  outlying  points  of  doctrine  or  of  organiza 
tion.  When  it  reaches  the  centre  it  is  powerless,  and  the  answer 
to  its  earnest  and  well-meant  demands  must  ever  be  the  same : 
"  Lift  up  your  hearts." 

It  was  a  spiritual  density  and  obtuseness  on  Philip's  part,  a 
want  of  insight ;  but  when  we  make  this  charge  against  Philip, 
are  we  not  made  to  pause  by  the  thought  of  our  own  obtuseness  ? 
May  not  the  charge  be  made  against  us,  with  less  excuse  in  our 
case  than  in  Philip's,  "  Have  I  been  so  long  time  with  you,  and 
dost  thou  not  know  me?"  To  the  Church  as  well  as  to  the 


1 70  PHILIP 

world  may  the  Baptist's  words  be  often  said   in  sorrow  and  in 
surprise,  "  There  standeth  one  among  you  whom  ye  know  not." 

K  To  those  who  are  worth  most  there  comes  home  early  in 
life  the  conviction  that,  in  the  absence  of  a  firm  hold  on  what  is 
abiding,  life  becomes  a  poorer  and  poorer  affair  the  longer  it  lasts. 
And  the  only  foundation  of  what  is  abiding  is  the  sense  of  the 
reality  of  what  is  spiritual — the  constant  presence  of  the  God  who 
is  not  far  away  in  the  skies,  but  is  here  within  our  minds  and 
hearts.1 

TJ  We  are  just  as  much  in  the  presence  of  the  Lord  here 
to-day,  this  hour,  as  we  shall  ever  be,  except  that  as  one  grows 
more  spiritual  and  less  material,  as  his  perceptions  are  opened  to 
spiritual  things  and  his  temperament  becomes  more  responsive  to 
spiritual  influences  he  is,  of  course,  more  in  the  presence  of  the 
Lord  than  when  he  was  steeped  and  stifled  in  the  material  life. 
The  man  who  can  see  possesses  the  sunshine  more  than  the  man 
who  cannot  see,  although  the  sunshine  is  the  same  all  the  time. 
We  are  spirits  now,  or  we  are  nothing.  We  are  dwelling  in  the 
body  as  an  instrument  through  which  the  spirit  must  work  in 
order  to  work  in  a  physical  world.  We  are  spirits,  but  spirits 
embodied.  Does  not  this  realization  invest  this  part  of  our  life 
with  a  new  dignity,  as  well  as  a  new  responsibility  ?  This  world, 
so  far  as  it  is  anything,  is  a  spiritual  world  now,  though  in  a 
cruder  and  lower  state  of  development  than  that  which  the  spirit 
enters  after  leaving  the  body.  But  the  forces  that  govern  it  are 
of  spirit ;  for  there  is  no  force  but  spirit.2 

Why  of  hidden  things  dispute, 
Mind  unwise,  howe'er  astute, 

Making  that  thy  task 
Where  the  Judge  will,  at  the  last, 
When  disputing  all  is  past, 

Not  a  question  ask  ? 

Folly  great  it  is  to  brood 
Over  neither  bad  nor  good, 

Eyes  and  ears  unheedful ! 
Ears  and  eyes,  ah,  open  wide 
For  what  may  be  heard  or  spied 

Of  the  one  thing  needful ! 3 

1  Lord  Haldane,  The  Conduct  of  Life,  15. 
1  Lilian  Whiting,  The  World  Beautiful,  187. 
»  George  MacDonald,  Poetical  Works,  i.  438. 


THOMAS. 

I. 

WHO  WAS  HE? 


LITERATURE. 

Adeney,  W.  F.,  in  Men  of  the  New  Testament  :    Matthew  to  Timothy 

(1905),  221. 

Arnold,  T.,  Sermons,  vi.  (1878)  172. 
Bernard,  J.  H.,  Via  Domini  (1898),  165. 
Bickersteth,  C.,  The  Gospel  of  Incarnate  Love  (1906),  88. 
Bramston,  J.  T.,  Fratribus  (1903),  104. 
Butler,  H.  M.,  University  and  Other  Sermons  (1899),  43. 
Cooke,  G.  A.,  The  Progress  of  Revelation  (1910),  139. 
Davidson,  A.  B.,  The  Called  of  God  (1902),  319. 
Drysdale,  A.  H.,  Christ  Invisible  Our  Gain  (1909),  87. 
Ealand,  F.,  The  Spirit  of  Life  (1908),  69. 
Ellis,  P.  A.,  Old  Beliefs  and  Modern  Believers  (1909),  166. 
Greenhough,  J.  G.,  The  Apostles  of  Our  Lord  (1904),  93. 
Gwatkin,  H.  M.,  The  Eye  for  Spiritual  Things  (1907),  131. 
Hodges,  G.,  The  Human  Nature  of  the  Saints  (1905),  79. 
Hough,  L.  H.,  The  Men  of  the  Gospels  (1913),  32. 
Jeffrey,  J.,  The  Personal  Ministry  of  the  Son  of  Man  (1897),  276. 
Jones,  J.  D.,  The  Glorious  Company  of  the  Apostles  (1904),  172. 
Keble,  J.,  Sermons  for  the  Christian  Year  :  Miscellaneous  (1880),  177. 
Liddon,  H.  P.,  Forty-Two  Sermons  Selected  from  "  The  Penny  Pulpit,"  iv 

(1886),  No.  1100. 

Lilley,  J.  P.,  Four  Apostles  (1912),  95. 
Lynch,  T.  T.,  Sermons  for  My  Curates  (1871),  33. 
MacDonald,  G.,  Unspoken  Sermon*,  i.  (1890)  50. 
Mackennal,  A.,  Christ's  Healing  Touch  (1884),  115. 
Marty n,  H.  J.,  For  Christ  and  the  Truth  (1898),  128. 
Matheson,  G.,  The  Representative  Men  of  the  New  Testament  (1905),  137. 
Mortimer,  A.  G.,  Jesus  and  the  Resurrection  (1898),  184. 
Rattenbury,  J.  E.,  The  Twelve  (1914),  193. 
Stanford,  C.,  From  Calvary  to  Olivet  (1893),  157. 
Stone,  D.,  The  Discipline  of  Faith  (1904),  131. 
Stubbs,  W.,  Ordination  Addresses  (1904),  325. 
Tuckwell,  W.,  Nuggets  from  the  Bible  Mine  (1913),  223. 
Vaughan,  B.,  Stones  from  the  Quarry  (1890),  97. 
Waller,  C.  H.,  The  Silver  Sockets  (1883),  302. 

Whyte,  A.,  Bible  Characters  :  Joseph  and  Mary  to  James  (1900),  159. 
Wright,  D.,  Waiting  for  the  Light  (1875),  34. 
Young,  D.  T.,  The  Crimson  Book  (1903),  53. 
Dictionary  of  the  Bible,  iv.  (1902)  753  (J.  H.  Bernard). 
Dictionary  of  Christ  and  the  Gospels,  ii.  (1908)  728  (E.  H.  Titchraarsh). 
Encyclopedia  Biblica,  iv.  (1903),  col.  5057  (E.  Nestle). 


WHO  WAS  THOMAS? 

Thomas,  one  of  the  twelve,  called  Didymus. — John  xx.  24. 

THE  name  Thomas  in  English,  as  in  Greek,  is  just  a  reproduction, 
with  the  addition  of  a  single  euphonic  letter,  of  the  original  Syriac 
name,  Thoma.  This  is  derived  from  the  Hebrew  word  for  "  twin." 
Hence  when  he  is  also  called  Didymus  he  does  not  receive  an 
additional  name.  Nor  is  there,  as  so  many  suppose,  any  attempt 
to  indicate  his  character.  He  does  not  get  this  name  because  he 
was  a  doubter  or  ready  to  halt  betwixt  two  opinions,  but  simply 
because  this  word  in  Greek  expresses  the  fact,  already  indicated 
in  the  Syriac  form  of  his  name,  that  he  was  one  of  twin 
children. 

Thomas  appears  in  all  the  lists  of  the  Apostles.  But  we  have 
no  account  of  liis  call.  In  Matthew's  arrangement  of  the  Twelve 
as  couples  he  is  associated  with  Matthew  —  "  Thomas,  and 
Matthew  the  publican  "  (Matt.  x.  3) ;  and  this  fact  has  led  to  the 
suggestion  that  possibly  the  two  were  twins.  But  that  is  not 
likely,  because  in  the  case  of  two  earlier  instances  the  relation 
ship  of  brotherhood  is  stated — "Simon,  who  is  called  Peter, 
and  Andrew  his  brother " ;  "  James  the  son  of  Zebedee,  and 
John  his  brother."  If  there  were  another  pair  of  brothers  it 
would  be  natural  to  go  on  and  read,  "  Thomas  and  Matthew  his 
brother." 

Our  knowledge  of  Thomas  is  derived  from  the  Fourth  Gospel. 
In  the  first  three  lie  is  named  as  one  of  the  twelve  Apostles  and 
no  more.  In  the  fourth,  however,  he  appears  on  four  occasions. 
He  utters  memorable  words  on  each  occasion,  and  it  is  by  these 
words  that  we  know  both  who  and  what  he  was. 


»TS 


174  THOMAS 

I. 

AT  THE  EAISING  OF  LAZARUS. 

Let  us  also  go,  that  we  may  die  with  him.— John  xi.  16. 

The  first  scene  in  which  he  becomes  prominent  is  the  narrative 
of  the  raising  of  Lazarus  from  the  dead. 

1.  There  had  been  a  commotion  in  the  streets  of  Jerusalem. 
The  transition  of  Jesus  from  the  work  of  a  reformer  to  the  work 
of  a  theologian  had  produced  also  a  transition  in  the  feelings  of 
the  multitude.  They  passed  at  a  bound  from  applause  to  reproba 
tion.  Goaded  by  the  suggestion  of  heresy  in  His  teaching,  they 
assailed  Him  with  stones.  The  majesty  of  Christ's  presence  saved 
Him — paralyzed  the  directness  of  their  aim.  Evading  the  fury 
of  the  populace,  He  retired  into  a  secluded  place,  and  for  some 
time  was  visible  only  to  His  disciples.  At  last,  to  this  desert 
spot  came  tidings  of  the  death  of  Lazarus.  Then  Jesus  resolved 
to  return.  The  disciples  were  startled — on  His  account  and  their 
own.  They  were  very  unwilling  to  come  into  the  vicinity  of  a 
place  which  had  been  so  fraught  with  fear,  so  full  of  danger. 
Jesus,  for  His  part,  is  determined.  He  says,  "I  go."  He  does 
not  ask  anyone  to  accompany  Him;  He  simply  expresses  His 
personal  resolve.  Then  through  the  silence  one  man  speaks  out 
for  the  company — "  Let  us  also  go,  that  we  may  die  with  him." 
It  is  the  voice  of  Thomas. 

U  I  have  always  felt  that  is  one  of  the  greatest  and  noblest 
things  any  human  being  ever  did  say.  You  talk  about  the 
martyrs — well,  the  martyrs  were  noble  people  and  they  nobly 
died,  but  if  you  read  the  records  of  the  martyrs  you  will 
find  that  they  were  often  sustained  wonderfully  by  their  faith, 
and  that  in  the  act  of  martyrdom  they  were  often  so  lifted 
up  above  the  common  and  the  material  that  the  common 
and  material  things  seemed  hardly  to  touch  them.  If  you  know 
anything  of  the  records  of  the  martyrs,  you  will  know  that  the 
very  flames  seemed  warm  and  beautiful  to  them,  that  they  saw 
the  chariots  and  horses  ready  to  take  them  away  straight  to 
heaven,  and  notwithstanding  their  courage  there  is  a  gladness  of 
heart  that  lifts  them  up,  and  enables  them  to  endure  material 
pangs.  Just  as  artists  have  delighted  to  depict  Saint  Sebastian 


WHO  WAS  THOMAS?  175 

stuck  all  over  with  arrows,  and  yet  with  a  beatific  smile  on  his 
face  as  if  he  were  enjoying  it.  You  find  that  continually  in  the 
history  of  the  martyrs — they  are  elevated  by  their  faith  above 
the  things  they  see.  For  religious  faith  Wesley's  words  are  true : 

Lo !  to  faith's  enlightened  sight, 
All  the  mountain  flames  with  light; 
Hell  is  nigh,  but  God  is  nigher, 
Circling  us  with  hosts  of  fire. 

But  Thomas  was  not  like  that  at  all.  He  had  no  exaltation, 
or,  as  I  think  he  would  have  put  it,  he  suffered  from  no  illusions. 
He  simply  saw  the  material  things.  He  knew  the  jaws  of  death 
would  devour  him.  He  thought  a  stone  was  a  stone,  and  that 
the  stones  would  hurt  and  kill  that  would  be  flung  at  him.  He 
took  no  rosy,  optimistic,  religious  view  of  the  scene.  He  simply 
saw  all  the  crude  material  forces.  It  was  a  cruel  death,  and  his 
flesh  shrank  from  it.  He  was  under  no  illusions,  or,  to  put  what 
1  mean  from  the  point  of  view  of  faith,  which  indeed  is  the  true 
point  of  view,  he  had  not  the  faith  that  exalted  him  above  the 
material  world,  and  made  him  realize  the  powers  of  the  world  to 
come.  He  saw  death  in  all  its  hardness  and  cruelty  and  pain ; 
and  yet  notwithstanding  that  he  says,  "  Let  us  also  go,  that  we 
may  die  with  him."  1 

2.  Now  that  which  the  Lord  Jesus  expects  is  a  service  accord 
ing  to  the  measure  of  each  man's  capacity,  a  service  according  to 
the  character  and  disposition  of  each  disciple.  He  requires  from 
each  man  his  own  service,  not  that  of  his  brother.  This  He 
demands,  and  will  be  content  with  nothing  less.  We  may  be  dull- 
witted,  with  no  splendid  vision  breaking  in  upon  our  imagination, 
and  yet  may  possess  a  clear  sense  of  duty,  a  true  knowledge  of 
our  appointed  way,  and  the  loyal  devotion  that  is  ready  to  follow 
Christ  whithersoever  He  may  lead,  though  it  be  into  the  midst  of 
foes.  Devoid  of  the  impetuous  outflow  of  love,  such  as  Simon 
Peter  knew,  there  are  disciples  of  Christ,  like  Thomas,  who  in 
quiet,  undemonstrative  fidelity  are  prepared  for  the  hardest 
lot  this  fidelity  may  bestow.  There  are  some  whose  lives  never 
rise  above  the  common  level,  hardly  reach  thereto,  they  may 
think — men  with  limited  capacities  for  service,  with  meagre 
intellectual  and  emotional  endowments,  whose  labours  never 
1  J.  E.  Kattcnbury,  The  Twelve,  197. 


1 76  THOMAS 

strike  the  imagination  of  their  fellows,  whose  professions  never 
thrill  and  move  the  multitude.  They  may  hear  voices  that 
would  undermine  their  faith,  and  see  the  gilded  bait  set  to  allure 
them  from  their  service ;  they  may  be  unduly  despondent  of 
themselves,  of  their  fellows,  and  of  the  trend  of  things  around 
them,  and  may  exaggerate  the  perils  and  losses  of  their  associa 
tion  with  Christ,  His  Church,  His  Kingdom.  Yet  in  their  deepest 
heart  there  may  dwell  a  quiet  fervour  of  love  that  will  be  faithful 
unto  death,  a  loyal  devotion  that  only  in  the  presence  of  peril 
asserts  its  full  strength  and  nobility,  as  it  says,  in  the  spirit  of 
consecration  that  moved  St.  Thomas,  "  Let  us  also  go,  that  we 
may  die  with  him." 

U  Erasmus  confessed  that  he  was  not  constituted  of  the  stuff 
of  which  martyrs  are  made,  and  many  of  us  feel  a  similar  mis 
giving  concerning  ourselves.  But  if  we  resolve  to  be  on  the  Lord's 
side  He  will  wonderfully  strengthen  and  deliver.  The  golden- 
crested  wren  is  one  of  the  tiniest  of  birds ;  it  is  said  to  weigh  only 
the  fifth  part  of  an  ounce,  and  yet,  on  frailest  pinions,  it  braves 
hurricanes  and  crosses  northern  seas.  It  often  seems  in  nature  as 
if  Omnipotence  worked  best  through  frailest  organisms ;  certainly 
the  omnipotence  of  grace  is  seen  to  the  greatest  advantage  in  the 
trembling  but  resolute  saint.  Give  me  the  spirit  of  those  who 
are  faithful  unto  death  ! l 

II. 

IN  THE  UPPER  ROOM. 

Lord,  we  know  not  whither  thou   goest ;   how  know  we   the  way  ? — 
John  xiv.  5. 

The  next  time  that  Thomas  speaks  is  when  Jesus  and  His 
disciples  are  still  in  the  Upper  Eoom  where  the  last  Passover  had 
just  been  celebrated  and  the  Lord's  Supper  instituted.  "  In  my 
Father's  house  are  many  mansions  ;  I  go  to  prepare  a  place  for 
you.  And  whither  I  go,  ye  know  the  way."  The  other  disciples 
may  know  whither  their  Master  is  going,  and  they  may  know  the 
way,  but  Thomas  knows  neither.  "  His  Father's  house  ? "  said 
Thomas  to  himself.  "  What  does  He  mean  ?  Why  does  He  not 
speak  plainly  ? "  Thomas  must  understand  his  Master's  meaning. 

1  \V.  L.  Watkinson,  Tfie  Gate*  of  Daum,  311. 


WHO  WAS  THOMAS?  177 

Thomas  is  one  of  those  unhappy  men  who  cannot  be  put  off  with 
mere  words.  Thomas  must  see  to  the  bottom  before  he  can 
pretend  to  believe.  Thomas  was  the  first  of  those  disciples,  and  a 
primate  among  them,  in  whose  restless  minds 

doubt, 
Like  a  shoot,  springs  round  the  stock  of  truth. 

The  question  was  natural ;  it  argued  no  want  of  loyalty ;  and 
the  Master  answered  it  with  one  of  His  greatest  and  deepest 
sayings :  "  I  am  the  way,  and  the  truth,  and  the  life."  In  leading 
His  disciples  on  to  a  higher  level  of  discipleship,  He  would  lead 
them  to  Himself. 

In  our  own  lives  there  are  many  places  where  there  is  nothing 
for  us  but  that  word  of  Jesus.  We  have  our  doubts  and  our 
difficulties.  We  look  to  the  future.  We  argue  about  immortality  ; 
we  see  something  to  be  said  for  it,  and  something  against  it ;  we 
express  the  mind  of  the  twentieth  century,  the  feeling  of  our  times, 
and  when  we  are  baffled  and  confused  and  troubled  with  the 
problems  of  the  mind  what  comfort  is  there  for  us?  There  is 
this — that  One  stands  before  us  and  says,  "  I  am  the  way,"  and  if 
He  be  not  there  in  whom  our  hearts  can  trust  then  we  are  of  all 
men  the  most  miserable.  The  hand  of  God  is  laid  heavily  upon 
us.  We  suffer  bereavement  or  affliction  or  trouble.  Dear  ones 
are  taken  away  from  our  family  circle ;  the  chairs  are  left  vacant ; 
those  upon  whom  we  depend  are  moved  from  us ;  our  whole  life  is 
altered  ;  we  have  to  reshape  it  at  some  bitter  hour  of  tragedy, 
when  one  or  another  has  been  removed  to  another  sphere  of 
service ;  and  in  a  moment  like  that  we  are  confused  and  troubled. 
We  know  not  which  way  to  go,  or  how  to  find  our  way ;  but  there 
is  One  who  stands  before  us  and  says,  "  I  am  the  way,"  and  in  the 
confusion  of  our  brain,  in  the  cloudy  days  of  mental  trouble  and 
distraction  that  come  to  us,  has  not  the  Christian  in  all  ages  found 
to  his  supreme  comfort  and  victory  that  Christ  is  the  Way,  and  that 
He  opens  to  him  the  gates  of  life,  and  makes  time  and  eternity  a 
possible  thing  for  him  to  contemplate  ? 

1[  Much  may  remain  dark  to  us ;  but  the  purposes  of  life 
receive  a  clear  and  powerful  direction  the  moment  we  believe 
that  the  one  supreme  Way  of  life  is  Jesus  Christ,  God's  Son,  our 
Lord.  No  other  single  way,  capable  of  uniting  the  whole  nature 

MARY-SIMON — 12 


i;8  THOMAS 

and  life  of  man,  has  yet  been  discovered  or  devised  which  does  not 
tend  to  draw  us  down  rather  than  lift  us  up.  But  if  in  Him  is 
shown  at  once  the  Way  of  God,  so  far  as  it  can  be  intelligible  to 
man,  and  the  Way  of  man  according  to  God's  purpose,  then  many 
a  plausible  and  applauded  way  stands  condemned  at  once  as  of 
necessity  leading  nowhither;  and  many  a  way  which  promises 
little  except  to  conscience  is  glorified  with  Him,  and  has  the 
assurance  of  His  victory.  Yet,  when  the  primary  choice  has  once 
been  made,  the  labour  is  not  ended.  The  Way  is  no  uniform 
external  rule.  It  traverses  the  changes  of  all  things  that  God  has 
made  and  is  ever  making,  that  we  may  help  to  subdue  all  to  His 
use ;  and  so  it  has  to  be  sought  out  again  and  again  with  growing 
fitnesses  of  wisdom  and  devotion.  Thus  the  outward  form  of  our 
own  ways  is  in  great  part  determined  for  us  from  without,  while 
their  inward  coherence  is  committed  to  our  own  keeping ;  and  the 
infinite  life  of  the  Son  of  man  can  transmute  them  all  into  ways 
of  God.  .  .  .  But  we  shall  never  reach  the  full  measure  of  the 
word,  Christ  is  the  Way,  till  the  journey  itself  is  ended,  and  with 
thankful  wonder  we  find  ourselves  wholly  gathered  to  Him  in  the 
place  and  presence  assigned  from  the  beginning  by  the  heavenly 
Father's  will.1 


III. 

ABSENT. 

Except  I  shall  see  ...  I  will  not  believe. — John  xx.  25. 

1.  The  remaining  incidents  in  which  Thomas  appears  followed 
one  another  closely.  They  belong  to  the  forty  days  during  which 
Christ  showed  Himself  alive  after  His  resurrection.  On  the  first 
occasion  when  Jesus  appeared  to  the  Apostles  after  His  resurrec 
tion,  Thomas  was  not  with  them.  When  he  heard  of  what  the 
others  had  seen  during  his  absence,  he  could  not  believe  it. 
He  repudiated  the  notion  as  absurd.  The  vehemence  of  his 
language  shows  us  how  gladly  he  would  have  welcomed  the  news, 
if  only  he  had  been  able  to  accept  it  as  true.  But  to  him  it  is  too 
good  to  be  true.  He  cannot  submit  to  a  delusion  simply  because 
it  would  be  very  delightful.  He  must  have  truth — truth  at  any 
price.  For  this,  however,  he  declares  that  he  will  be  satisfied 
with  nothing  less  than  the  most  convincing  sense  perception,  the 
1  F.  J.  A.  Hort,  The  Way,  the  Truth,  the  Life,  38. 


WHO  WAS  THOMAS?  179 

sense  of  touch.  "  Except  I  shall  see  in  his  hands  the  print  of  the 
nails,  and  put  my  tinger  into  the  print  of  the  nails,  and  put  my 
hand  into  his  side,  I  will  not  believe." 

TI  In  the  Lives  of  the  Sai?its  it  is  related  that  one  day  when 
St.  Martin  of  Tours  was  praying  in  his  cell,  the  devil  came  to  him, 
arrayed  in  light,  clothed  in  royal  robes  and  wearing  a  crown  of 
gold.     Twice  the  devil  told  the  saint  he  was  Christ. 
"  I  am  come  in  judgment,"  he  said.     "  Adore  me." 
"  Where,"  asked  Martin,  "  are  the  marks  of  the  nails  ?    Where 
the  piercing  of  the  spear?     Where  the  crown  of  thorns?     When 
I  see  the  marks  of  the  Passion  I  shall  adore  my  Lord."     At  these 
words  the  devil  disappeared.1 

2.  How  shall  we  account  for  the  absence  of  Thomas  ?  It  could 
not  have  been  by  accident.  He  must  have  been  told  that  the  ten 
astounded,  overwhelmed,  and  enraptured  disciples  were  to  be 
all  together  that  wonderful  night ;  astounded,  overwhelmed,  and 
enraptured  with  the  events  of  the  morning.  What  conceivable 
cause,  then,  could  have  kept  Thomas  away  ?  Whatever  it  was 
that  kept  Thomas  away,  he  was  terribly  punished  for  his  absence. 
For  he  thereby  lost  the  first  sight  of  his  risen  Master,  and  His 
first  benediction  of  peace.  Not  only  did  He  lose  that  bene 
diction,  but  the  joy  of  the  other  disciples  who  had  received 
it  filled  the  cup  of  Thomas's  misery  full.  And,  besides  that, 
had  not  Jesus  promised  a  spiritual  presence  in  the  assembly 
of  His  people,  assuring  them  that  wherever  two  or  three  of  them 
were  met  together  in  His  name,  He  would  be  in  the  midst  of 
them  ?  Thomas  missed  that.  All  Christians  who  neglect  the 
assembly  of  the  Church,  carelessly  or  wilfully,  may  expect  to  miss 
many  blessings  which  can  be  enjoyed  only  in  fellowship.  Christ 
ianity  is  a  social  religion  ;  it  attains  its  perfection  in  brotherhood. 
With  the  solitary  it  shrinks  and  withers. 

^[  "  Old  Father  Morris,"  says  his  American  biographer,  "  had 
noticed  a  falling  off  in  his  little  village  meeting  for  prayer.  The 
firt<t  time  he  collected  a  tolerable  audience,  he  took  occasion  to 
tell  them  something  '  concerning  the  conference  meeting  of  the 
disciples '  after  the  resurrection.  '  But  Thomas  was  not  with  them.' 
'  Thomas  not  with  them  !'  said  the  old  man  in  a  sorrowful  voice; 
'  why,  what  could  keep  Thomas  away  ?  Perhaps,'  said  he,  glancing 
at  some  of  his  auditors,  '  Thomas  had  got  cold-hearted,  and  was 

1  8.  liai  ing-Gould,  Lives  of  the  Saiiits,  xiii.  251. 


i8o  THOMAS 

afraid  that  they  would  ask  him  to  make  the  first  prayer;  or, 
perhaps,'  he  continued,  looking  at  some  of  the  farmers,  '  he  was 
afraid  the  roads  were  bad ;  or,  perhaps/  he  added,  after  a  pause, 
'  he  thought  a  shower  was  coming  on.'  He  went  on  significantly 
summing  up  common  excuses,  and  then  with  great  simplicity  and 
emotion  he  added,  '  But  only  think  what  Thomas  lost,  for  in  the 
middle  of  the  meeting  the  Lord  Jesus  came  and  stood  among 
them  ! ' " l 

^|  Now  you  will  think  me  a  worldling — I  am — but  you  made 
me  feel  sorry  a  little  for  the  "  large  and  fashionable  congregation." 
There  are  sad  hearts  under  fashionable  clothes  as  well  as  under 
rags.  There  were  kings  in  the  Bible  whose  prayers  were  heard,  as 
well  as  beggars.  Why  may  we  not 

Go  together  to  the  kirk 
In  a  goodly  company  ? 

There  is  something  in  the  mere  fact  of  numbers  when  they 
sing — when  they  are  silent — that  makes  the  hymn  or  the  prayer 
different  from  that  at  home — more  inspiriting  to  some  people  and 
less  of  an  effort.  And  though  our  Lord  said  so  much  about  private 
prayer  He  went  often  to  the  public  service  in  the  Temple  or  the 
Synagogue,  and  did  He  not  mean  us  to  learn  from  His  life  as  well 
as  from  His  words  ?  I  do  not  care  for  crowded  services — nor  for 
frequent  services  of  any  kind — but  there  was  a  time  when  I  did 
and  I  understand  the  feelings  of  those  who  do.2 

0  faithless  found  when  all  believed, 
Where  wast  thou,  Thomas,  then ; 
Not  with  the  rout  that  raged  without, 
Not  with  the  faithful  Ten  ? 
Why  not  with  friends  sure  counsel  take, 
Who  sought  the  House  of  Prayer ; 

0  why,  the  first  Lord's-day,  forsake 
The  first  assembling  there  ? 

Not  hear  the  word,  when  first  the  Lord 

His  preachers'  flag  unfurl'd 

And  lit  their  torches  at  the  tlame 

Which  overshone  the  world ! 

Not  there,  when  each  became — to  preach 

The  Cross  from  pole  to  pole, — 

Breath'd  on  with  breath  which  conquer'd  death, 

An  ever  living  soul ! 

1  C.  Stanford,  From  Calvary  to  Olircf,  163. 

1  Qatkercd  Leaves  from  the  Prow  of  Manj  E.  Colf.ritfye,  2-12, 


WHO  WAS  THOMAS?  181 

Thou  couKl'.si  the  Jevvibh  stones  defy 

For  Him  at  danger's  call : 

0  better  far  with  Christ  to  die, 

When  Christ  has  died  for  all! 

It  was  not  fear,  for  all  were  near 

Who  closed  the  doors  for  fright, 

Hid  in  that  room,  when  e'en  the  tomb 

Was  full  of  living  light. 

Or  had'st  thou  stray 'd  to  see  display'd 

The  Paschal  barley-ears, 

Heaved  bright  and  high  across  the  sky, 

When  harvest-time  appears  ? 

More  blest  were  they  that  week's  first  day, 

With  Him  the  feast  was  kept, 

Who  came  to  wave,  fresh  from  the  grave, 

First-fruits  of  them  that  slept.1 


IV. 

PRESENT. 

My  Lord  and  my  God.— John  xx.  29. 

1.  A  week  has  passed,  and  without  record.  It  is  a  blank  on 
which  a  reverent  imagination  may  dare  to  fasten.  We  might 
have  been  thankful  if  the  same  powerful  and  devout  hand  that 
drew  for  us  the  picture  of  "  A  Death  in  the  Desert "  could  have 
drawn  this  also — the  agony  of  suspense  in  such  a  heart  and  such 
a  mind  as  that  of  the  Apostle  who  had  so  lately  said,  "  Let  us  also 
go,  that  we  may  die  with  him."  Two  things  we  may  say  with 
certainty.  That  week  was  a  week  of  strong  crying  and  prayer, 
as  when  Jacob  wrestled  with  God  and  became  Israel.  Again, 
such  a  man  in  such  a  brotherhood  would  not  have  suffered  quite 
alone.  Who  that  has  ever  pondered  on  the  character  of  the 
disciple  whom  Jesus  loved,  and  noted  the  fact  that  he  and  he 
alone  records  all  these  details  in  the  life  of  his  brother  Apostle, 
Thomas,  can  doubt  that  these  agonizing  hours  were  cheered  by 
the  prayers  and  the  sympathy  of  at  least  one  earthly  friend  ? 

At  last  the  suspense  ended.  Again  the  first  day  of  the  week 
returned.  Again  the  disciples  were  together,  this  time  Thomas 

1  Herbert  Kjuajton. 


i82  THOMAS 

with  them.  Again  the  same  Master  stood  among  them,  with  the 
old  message  of  Peace.  We  can  imagine,  with  reverent  awe,  with 
what  eyes  one  of  those  present  gazed  upon  Him,  "  looking  unto 
Jesus,"  even  as  he  had  never  looked  before.  "Then  saith  he 
to  Thomas,  Reach  hither  thy  finger,  and  see  my  hands;  and 
reach  hither  thy  hand,  and  put  it  into  my  side:  and  be  not 
faithless,  but  believing."  Thus  the  evidence  that  a  week  before 
was  granted  to  the  others,  the  evidence  that  he  was  certain  he 
needed  for  himself,  was  now  offered  him.  There  it  stood  within 
his  grasp.  Which  of  us  believes  that  he  grasped  it  ?  No,  surely 
no.  If  before  his  words  had  done  his  heart  some  wrong,  now 
his  heart  was  better  than  those  words.  In  the  full  tide  of  a 
satisfied  faith,  he  saw,  we  may  believe,  even  more  than  they  all. 
"  Thomas  answered  and  said  unto  him,  My  Lord  and  my  God." 

Thomas  "  the  doubter  "  is  the  first  to  pronounce  the  great  word 
"God,"  the  first  to  confess  the  full  Divinity  of  Christ.  This 
rebound  from  despair  to  faith  carries  the  soul  farther  at  one  leap 
than  the  position  reached  by  more  placid  minds  after  long  experi 
ence.  Here  is  the  compensation  of  the  questioning  mind.  The 
restlessness  of  dissatisfaction  in  the  conventional  or  traditional  is 
very  painful.  Doubt  is  always  distressing,  and  when  it  is  carried 
far  into  regions  of  vital  importance,  agonizing.  But  when  it  is 
dispelled,  and  sure  conviction  takes  its  place,  that  conviction  is 
more  clear  and  more  assured  than  the  faith  of  unquestioning 
minds.  There  is  no  faith  so  strong  as  that  of  a  man  who  has 
fought  his  doubts  and  conquered  them  by  honest  means. 

It  was  his  heart  that  conquered.  "  My  Lord  and  my  God." 
It  was  the  deep  spiritual  life  of  Thomas  that  overcame ;  and  in 
that  supreme  revelation  it  was  not  that  he  put  his  brain  aside 
as  useless,  but  that  in  the  deepest  revelation — the  revelation  that 
comes  not  to  the  wise  and  prudent  but  to  the  little  child — there 
is  such  a  degree  of  certainty  that  rational  methods,  however  they 
may  substantiate,  will  make  no  difference  whatever  to  the  assur 
ance  of  the  man  who  comes  into  living  contact  with  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ.  "  My  Lord  and  my  God." 

^1  Thomas  is  the  apostle  for  our  century.  He  has  the  critical, 
sceptical  mind  of  the  time,  but  he  has  the  loving  heart,  the  simple 
heart  that  will  always  conquer.  I  do  not  think  that  the  brain 
and  the  heart  are  in  necessary  conflict,  because  I  am  quite  sure  that 


WHO  WAS  THOMAS?  183 

when  Thomas  entered  into  that  supreme  knowledge  of  Jesus 
Christ  his  brain  was  no  longer  in  conflict  with  his  heart.  He 
realized  the  truth,  and  his  brain  would  give  its  witness  to  the 
truth  that  had  been  realized — on  a  higher  spiritual  plane  the  two 
concurred,  "  My  Lord  and  my  God  !  "l 

2.  We  must  not  treat  him  harshly  whom  Jesus  treated  gently. 
In  him  the  triumph  of  faith  was  delayed  only  that  it  might  be 
thorough.  Think  rather  how  fully  he  now  believes  than  how 
slowly  he  came  to  his  faith. 

But  what  says  the  Saviour  to  him  ?  "  Because  thou  hast  seen 
me,  thou  hast  believed :  blessed  are  they  that  have  not  seen,  and 
yet  have  believed  ! "  As  he  heard  these  words,  Thomas  perhaps 
said  in  his  heart :  "  Henceforth  this  blessedness  shall  be  mine. 
Last  week  it  might  have  been  mine,  for  I  only  heard  of  that 
which  the  rest  saw.  How  happy  had  I  been  could  I  have  then 
believed !  But,  having  now  received  this  great  '  sign,'  henceforth 
I  will  live  by  a  faith  confirmed  by  sight,  but  not  dependent  upon  it." 

How  are  we  to  take  these  words  of  Christ  ?  Do  they  commend 
those  who  believe  without  having  seen  ?  or  do  they,  as  it  were, 
congratulate  them  on  being  able  to  do  so?  They  teach  us  to 
regard  such  persons  as  both  happy  and  approved.  But  they  do 
not  imply  that  it  is  well  to  believe  without  evidence,  or  that  the 
sight  of  that  which  nevertheless  we  believe  without  seeing  will 
not  afford  us  peculiar  joy.  Happy,  how  happy,  are  they  who  see 
the  good  days,  the  good  fruits,  for  which  they  have  long  waited  ! 
He  indeed  ie  blest  who  trusts  an  absent  God ;  but  how  blest  is  he 
who  opens  the  door  when  at  last  it  pleases  God  to  knock  thereat 
as  a  visitor !  They  were  blest  who  could  calmly  believe,  when 
Peter  lay  in  prison  awaiting  death,  that  God  would  provide  for 
His  servant  whether  in  death  or  by  deliverance ;  but  how  happy 
were  they  to  find  Peter  standing  at  the  door,  and  to  know  that 
their  prayer  was  answered  !  "  Blessed  are  your  eyes,  for  they  see," 
said  our  Lord  to  the  disciples.  Not  thus  blest  were  the  righteous 
men  and  prophets  who  had  desired  to  see.  And  yet  to  these  holy 
and  faithful  men  belonged  the  very  blessing  of  which  Christ  spoke 
to  Thomas.  They  believed  that  God  would  do  great  things  for 
Israel  and  the  world,  that  a  glorious  time  was  coming ;  but 
they  knew  not  when  God  would  work,  and  only  very  obscurely 

1  J.  E.  Rattcubury,  The  Twelve,  208. 


184  THOMAS 

how.  They  believed  that  God  would  make  of  the  wilderness  "  a 
garden,"  and  in  the  desert  would  give  "  water  springs  " ;  but  they 
did  not  see  these  happy  changes,  or  know  the  time  and  way  in 
which  they  would  be  effected.  These  men  were  approved  of  God ; 
and  they  were  happy  as  well  as  approved :  for  often  by  faith  alone 
were  they  rescued  from  the  despair  into  which  others  sank,  and 
many  of  their  days  were  passed  in  peaceful  hope. 

Let  us  then  dare  something.  Let  us  not  always  be  unbeliev 
ing  children.  Let  us  keep  in  mind  that  the  Lord,  not  forbidding 
those  who  insist  on  seeing  before  they  will  believe,  blesses  those 
who  have  not  seen  and  yet  have  believed — those  who  trust 
in  Him  more  than  that,  who  believe  without  the  sight  of  the 
eyes,  without  the  hearing  of  the  ears.  They  are  blessed  to  whom 
a  wonder  is  not  a  fable,  to  whom  a  mystery  is  not  a  mockery, 
to  whom  a  glory  is  not  an  unreality. 

TJ  St.  Jane  Frances  Chantel  never  cared  to  hear  of  miracles  in 
confirmation  of  the  Faith,  nor  revelations,  and  occasionally  she 
made  them  pass  them  over  while  they  were  reading  in  the  refectory 
the  Lives  of  the  Saints.  She  resembled  in  this  the  great  St.  Louis 
of  France,  who,  once  when  he  was  called  into  his  private  chapel  to 
see  some  miraculous  appearance  which  had  taken  place  at  Mass, 
refused  to  go,  saying,  that  he  thanked  God  he  believed  in  the 
Blessed  Sacrament,  and  should  not  believe  it  more  firmly  for  all 
the  miracles  in  the  world,  neither  did  he  wish  to  see  one,  lest  he 
should  thereby  forfeit  Our  Lord's  special  blessing  on  those  who 
have  not  seen,  and  yet  have  believed.1 

3.  The  adoring  confession  of  Thomas, "  My  Lord  and  my  God," 
is  the  climax  of  the  Gospel  of  St.  John.  He  has  led  us  from  con 
fession  to  confession,  steadily  upward  from  Nathanael  to  Peter, 
from  Peter  to  Martha,  and  now  from  Martha  to  these  culminating 
words  of  Thomas.  With  these  he  stops,  as  though  his  work  was 
done  when  the  loftiest  confession  of  all  burst  out  from  the  soberest 
and  most  cautious  of  the  Twelve. 

And  to  these  words  of  Thomas  all  Christian  life  must  come. 
We  know  well  enough  what  we  ought  to  do.  What  can  be  simpler 
than  to  do  justly,  and  to  love  mercy,  and  to  walk  humbly  with 
thy  God  ?  But  where  in  the  wide  world  shall  we  find  strength  to 
do  so?  It  is  not  enough  to  hear  of  Christ,  or  to  confess  Him 

1  The  Spirit  of  Father  Faber,  77. 


WHO  WAS  THOMAS?  185 

along  with  others  as  our  Lord  and  our  God.  The  belief  of  others 
will  do  you  no  good,  for  no  truth  is  truly  yours  till  you  have  made 
it  yours  by  labour  and  toil,  and  found  its  echo  in  your  own  heart. 
You  are  not  truly  Christ's  till  you  let  the  world  drop  out  of  sight 
and  take  Him  for  your  own  with  the  Apostle's  cry,  "  My  Lord  and 
my  God."  "  Whom  have  I  in  heaven  but  thee  ?  and  there  is  none 
upon  earth  that  I  desire  beside  thee."  This  is  the  cry  which  the 
Saviour  delights  to  hear ;  and  in  it  you  shall  find  for  yourself  a 
never-failing  well  of  life,  and  a  never-failing  stream  of  blessing 
for  those  around  you. 

TJ  Dr.  Pusey's  daughter  (Mrs.  Brine),  in  her  description  of  her 
father's  last  moments,  says :  "  1  spent  the  morning  either  kneeling 
by  his  side  or  leaning  over  him,  and  holding  his  dear  hand.  It  was 
about  ten  o'clock  that  I  heard  the  faint  but  distinct  utterance, 
1  Thou  Lord  God  of  Hosts,'  as  if  he  were  conscious  of  a  Presence 
we  could  not  see.  Later  on  there  came  a  sort  of  triumphant  burst, 
with  the  words,  '  My  Lord  and  my  God.'  He  said  the  words  with 
an  emphasis  of  victorious,  assured  faith,  as  if  the  vision  were 
revealed  to  him  of  the  Master  he  had  loved  and  served  so  faithfully 
One  must  have  heard  it  to  enter  into  what  I  mean."  l 

The  bonds  that  press  and  fetter, 
That  chafe  the  soul  and  fret  her, 
What  man  can  know  them  better, 
0  brother  men,  than  I  ? 

And  yet,  my  burden  bearing, 
The  five  wounds  ever  wearing, — 
I  too  in  my  despairing 

Have  seen  Him  as  I  say  ; — 
Gross  darkness  all  around  Him 
En  wrapt  Him  and  enwound  Him, — 
0  late  at  night  I  found  Him 

And  lost  Him  in  the  day ! 

Yet  bolder  grown  and  braver 
At  Right  of  One  to  save  her 
My  Boul  no  more  shall  waver, 

With  wings  no  longer  furled, — 
But  cut  with  one  decision 
From  doubt  and  men's  derision 
That  sweet  and  vanished  vision 

Shall  follow  thro'  the  world.* 
1  The  Story  of  Dr.  Fuscy's  Life,  552.  »  F.  W.  H.  Mycrt,  A  Visivn. 


THOMAS. 

II. 

WHAT  WAS  HE? 


LITERATURE. 

Adeney,  W.  F.,  in  Men  of  the  New  Testament :    Matthew  to  Timothy 

(1905),  221. 

Alexander,  S.  A.,  Christ  and  Scepticism  (1894),  293. 
Arnold,  T.,  Sermons,  v.  (1878)  223. 
Bernard,  J.  H.,  From  Faith  to  Faith  (1895),  263. 
Calthrop,  G.,  In  Christ  (1893),  205. 

Campbell,  R.  J.,  in  Sermons  by  Congregational  Preachers,  i.  9. 
Carpenter,  W.  B.,  The  Son  of  Man  among  the  Sons  of  Men  (1893),  117. 
Curzon,  J.  E.,  in  Sermons  on  the  Gospels  :  Advent  to  Trinity  (1896),  284. 
Davidson,  A.  B.,  The  Called  of  God  (1902),  319. 
Dawson,  W.  J.,  The  Church  of  To-Morrow  (1892),  83. 
Gwatkin,  H.  M.,  The  Eye  for  Spiritual  Things  (1907),  131. 
lladden,  R.  H.,  Selected  Sermons  (1911),  12. 
Hardy,  E.  J.,  Doubt  and  Faith  (1899),  104. 
Henson,  H.  H.,  The  Value  of  the  Bible  (1904),  182. 
Ingram,  A.  F.  W.,  Friends  of  the  Master  (1898),  60. 

„  „         A  Mission  of  the  Spirit  (1906),  149. 

Jones,  J.  D.,  The  Glorious  Company  of  the  Apostles  (1904),  172. 
Lilley,  J.  P.,  Four  Apostles  (1912),  95. 
Macnutt,  F.  B.,  The  Riches  of  Christ  (1903),  34. 
Magee,  W.  C.,  Growth  in  Grace  (1892),  81. 

Maggs,  J.  T.  L.,  The  Spiritual  Experience  of  St.  Paul  (1901),  195. 
Rattenbury,  J.  E.,  The  Twelve  (1914),  193. 
Robertson,  F.  W.,  Sermons,  ii.  (1875)  268. 
Ryle,  H.  E.,  On  the  Church  of  England  (1904),  125. 
Temple,  W.,  Studies  in  the  Spirit  and  Truth  of  Christianity  (1914),  121. 
Thew,  J.,  Broken  Ideals,  141. 
Tholuck,  A.,  Light  from  the  Crost  (1869),  99. 

Whyte,  A.,  Bible  Characters  :  Joseph  and  Mary  to  James  (1900),  Io9. 
Wilkinson,  G.  H.,  Some  Laws  in  God's  Spiritual  Kingdom  (1909),  280. 
Williams,  C.  D.,  A  Valid  Christianity  for  To-Day  (1909),  124. 
Williams,  T.  R.,  Belief  and  Life  (1898),  99. 
Dictionary  of  Christ  and  the  GospeU,  ii.  (1908)  728  (E.  H.  Titclimarsh). 


WHAT  WAS  THOMAS? 

Except  I  shall  see  in  his  hands  the  print  of  the  nails,  and  put  my  finger  into 
the  print  of  the  nails,  and  put  my  hand  into  his  side,  I  will  not  believe.- 
John  xx.  25. 

My  Lord  and  my  God.— John  xx.  28. 

IT  is  probable  that,  as  Jesus  chobe  only  twelve  Apostles,  He  chose 
persons  of  distinct  and  marked  character,  in  order  that  the  truth 
of  the  gospel  might  in  after  ages  shine  among  men,  not  with  one 
colour  of  light,  but  in  many  colours.  Now,  in  judging  men's  conduct, 
we  need  to  know  not  only  their  circumstances  but,  above  all,  their 
kind  of  mind.  We  need  this  even  in  judging  of  their  religious 
conduct.  For  religion  does  not  alter  the  natural  cast  of  a  man's 
mind ;  it  only  sanctifies  and  consecrates  the  natural  disposition. 
The  man  who  was  impulsive  before  he  was  impressed  with  the 
truth  remains  impulsive  still,  and  will  act  impulsively  even  in 
religious  things,  although  he  may  be  taught  gradually  to  guard 
against  his  impulsiveness.  The  man  who  is  despondent  by  nature 
will  not  be  immediately  transported  by  his  faith  into  a  clear  air 
and  sunny  sky,  although  his  natural  disposition  may  be,  to  some 
extent,  corrected  by  the  many  hopes  set  before  him  in  the  gospel, 
and  even  more  by  the  healthy  activity  into  which  it  sets  all  his 
feelings.  At  all  events,  in  forming  an  opinion  of  men's  actions, 
we  should  endeavour,  if  we  have  the  means,  to  get  behind  their 
actions  and  look  at  themselves. 

Now,  while  there  are  many  wonderful  portraits  in  the  portrait- 
gallery  of  St.  John's  Gospel,  there  is  no  figure  more  distinctly 
drawn  than  that  of  the  Apostle  Thomas.  And  yet,  strange  to  say, 
it  is  possible  that  great  injustice  has  been  done  to  him.  His 
name  has  become,  in  Church  history,  a  proverb  for  unbelief. 
Among  the  typical  characters  that  surround  our  Lord  in  the 
gospel  story,  he  has  always  been  regarded  as  the  type  of  the 
doubter ;  he  is  known  as  the  doubting  or  unbelieving  Thomas. 
Why  should  he  be  so  called  ?  It  is  true  that  he  doubted  ;  but  his 


i9o  THOMAS 

doubt  does  not  seem  either  so  very  unreasonable  or  so  very 
obstinate  that  he  should  be  called,  by  way  of  distinction,  the 
doubter,  the  unbeliever.  It  was  not  unreasonable,  on  the  contrary 
it  was  reasonable  and  natural,  that  he  should  feel  some  doubt 
respecting  the  resurrection  of  Jesus  Christ.  Others  had  doubted 
as  well  as  he,  and  they  were  called  "  fools,  and  slow  of  heart  to 
believe  "  ;  and  yet  they  did  not  inherit  the  name  of  the  doubters. 
Nor  was  his  disbelief  of  a  very  obstinate  kind.  It  seems  to  have 
yielded  almost  instantaneously  to  evidence,  and  immediately  after 
he  had  seen  what  he  asked  to  see,  he  gave  utterance  to  a  confession 
of  faith  which  was  really  in  advance  of  his  time — he  said  more  for 
Christ  than  many  others  of  His  disciples  perhaps  would  then  have 
said — he  said,  "  My  Lord  and  my  God."  He  not  only  admitted 
Christ's  resurrection  but  acknowledged  His  Divinity ;  and  yet  he 
is  called  "  Thomas  the  doubter — the  sceptic." 


WAS  HE  A  DOUBTER? 

1.  Thomas  was  a  man  of  positive  temperament,  thoughtful rhess, 
and  caution :  he  was  unwilling,  with  a  not  improper  unwillingness, 
to  accept  any  fact  except  upon  sufficient  evidence.  Nor  indeed  do 
we  find  any  strong  condemnation  of  his  attitude  from  Christ's  own 
lips — certainly  not  the  sharp  censure  with  which,  once  and  again, 
He  had  rebuked  Peter,  James,  and  John.  He  does  not  dismiss 
him  from  His  presence;  He  does  not  tell  him  that  the  spirit 
which  inspires  his  conduct  is  an  unrighteous  spirit ;  He  does  not 
even  turn  upon  him  a  look  of  sorrowful  reproach.  On  the  con 
trary,  as  though  admitting  the  naturalness  and  justice  of  his 
demand,  He  gives  the  proof  required,  only  adding,  as  if  those 
piercing  eyes  were  looking  out  over  the  centuries  to  far-distant 
times,  "  Blessed  are  they  that  have  not  seen,  and  yet  have  believed." 
Thomas's  scepticism  was  due  simply  to  the  fact  that  the  evidence 
offered  him  was  not,  in  his  judgment,  satisfactory ;  when  stronger 
evidence  was  given,  we  read  that  his  scepticism  at  once  dis 
appeared. 

He  is  called  the  doubter  because  he  alone  of  the  eleven 
Apostles  questioned  the  fact  of  his  Lord's  resurrection.  But  he 


WHAT  WAS  THOMAS?  191 

was  the  only  one  who  had  not  seen  the  risen  Christ.  For  anything 
we  know  to  the  contrary,  if  he  had  been  present,  he  would  have 
been  convinced;  and  for  anything  we  know  to  the  contrary,  if 
any  one  of  the  others  had  been  absent,  that  disciple  would  have 
been  equally  sceptical.  As  it  is,  none  of  them  had  believed  the 
reports  of  previous  appearances.  What  the  women  said  appeared 
to  them  all  but  idle  tales,  and  the  appearance  to  Peter  had  only 
filled  the  rest  with  perplexity.  It  was  Christ's  appearance  to 
them  that  convinced  the  Ten;  on  the  next  occasion,  Thomas 
being  present,  he  too  was  convinced.  In  all  this,  then,  they  seem 
to  have  been  on  a  level  as  to  previous  unbelief  and  the  belief  that 
came  with  the  first  sight  of  Christ.  It  may  be  that  Thomas's 
different  position  was  due  only  to  the  accident  of  circumstance. 
He  was  exceptional  in  not  being  present.  Therefore  he  was  also 
exceptional  in  not  believing.  How  much  scepticism  and  even 
unbelief  on  which  the  Church  has  looked  so  sternly  is  really  due 
to  some  misfortune  of  environment !  how  much  peaceable  acquies 
cence  in  established  convictions  has  no  merit,  because  it  has  been 
nursed  in  favourable  circumstances  that  have  made  it  seem  quite 
natural  and  simple  and  without  any  difficulties ! 

2.  The  truth  is,  that  doubt  is  a  stream  with  many  sources. 
There  is  the  doubt  of  indifference,  and  there  is  the  doubt  of  pre 
tentiousness.  There  is  also  the  doubt  of  deep  earnestness,  of 
jealous  affection,  of  intense  agonizing  love  of  truth. 

(1)  There  is  the  doubt  of  the  indifferent — that  which  finds  its 
type  in  the  man  who  said,  "  What  is  truth  ? "  That  is,  who 
knows  ?  Who  cares  ?  What  does  it  matter  ?  That  which  in 
strict  accuracy  is  the  simple  absence  of  all  care,  all  interest,  and 
all  conviction.  Such  was  not  the  doubt  of  Thomas. 

T|  I  remember  talking  to  a  nice  young  fellow  in  Bethnal  Green. 
"  Well,  now,"  I  said,  "  what  do  you  think  about  religion  ?  "  "  Well, 
Mr.  Ingrain,"  he  replied, "  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  never  think  of  it 
from  one  end  of  the  year  to  the  other."  He  was  a  Itethnal  Green 
boy,  hardly  grown  up.  We  cannot  blame  him ;  he  was  never 
brought  up  to  anything  better,  but  we  taught  him  something 
better  later  on.  If  any  of  you  have  given  up  prayer,  and  have 
come  to  church  to-day  for  the  first  time  perhaps  for  many  years, 
and  long  ago  gave  up  your  Communion  (even  supposing  you  ever 
came  to  Communion) ;  if  you  never  kneel  down  and  say  a  prayer 


192  THOMAS 

at  home,  I  ask  you,  brother,  in  all  love,  Can  you  wonder  that  the 
face  of  God  has  gone  farther  and  farther  from  you,  and  that  Jesus 
Christ  has  become  a  far-off  figure  in  the  distance  ?  and  that  the 
Holy  Spirit  who  is  so  strong  to  help  you,  to  heal  you,  to  cleanse 
you,  and  guide  you  in  life,  has  less  and  less  power  over  you  every 
year  ?  and  that  your  conscience  now  scarcely  speaks  to  you  at 
all  ?  Of  course,  you  doubt ;  it  is  the  doubt  of  blank  indifference.1 

(2)  Then  there  is  shallow  scepticism ;  and  you  can  always  tell 
the  shallow  sceptic  first  by  his  conceit.  He  is  rather  proud  of 
being  a  doubter,  he  is  rather  proud  of  being  a  little  more  knowing 
than  other  people,  he  is  rather  proud  of  sneering  at  his  brother's 
or  sister's  faith.  You  know  him  by  the  almost  certain  mark  that 
he  knows  very  little  about  that  at  which  he  is  sneering.  As 
Bacon  so  beautifully  says,  "  A  little  philosophy  inclineth  man's 
mind  to  atheism ;  but  depth  in  philosophy  bringeth  men's  minds 
about  to  religion."  The  shallow  sceptic  is  irreverent ;  he  does  not 
realize  the  sanctity  of  life  or  the  awfulness  of  death,  he  does  not 
realize  what  the  issues  are ;  and  while  he  is  in  that  state  of  shallow 
scepticism  he  will  not  see  the  light.  He  may  be  brought  to  his 
knees,  by  God's  mercy,  by  being  face  to  face  with  death ;  he  will 
see,  perhaps,  his  nearest  and  dearest  cut  down  before  his  eyes ;  he 
will  see,  perhaps,  his  wife  or  his  child  at  the  point  of  death,  because 
God  will  use  almost  any  means  if  only  He  can  bring  the  truth  to 
a  soul  before  it  is  too  late.  But  the  shallow  sceptic,  as  he  does 
not  want  the  light,  will  not  get  the  light. 

^|  It  is  perfectly  true  that  no  true  man  can  really  avoid 
altogether  the  gravest  spiritual  issues,  and  that  when  he  is  in 
contact  with  these  issues,  especially  when  he  is  dealing  with  the 
personal  issue  of  right  or  wrong  for  his  own  will,  he  begins  to 
realize  the  meaning  of  the  unseen  world  in  the  very  sense  in 
which  the  Christian  apostles  and  evangelists  realized  it,  and  then 
perhaps  he  knows  what  religious  certainty  means.  But  the 
meaning  and  measure  of  certainty  in  that  region  are  very  different 
from  the  meaning  and  measure  of  certainty  in  that  world  of 
understanding  in  which  so  large  a  part  of  the  better  human  life  is 
now  passed.  And  I  do  not  hesitate  to  say  that,  quite  apart  from 
the  intrinsic  difficulties  of  religious  questions,  one  of  the  chief 
bewilderments  of  modern  life  in  relation  to  religion  is  this — that 
men  have  learnt  most  of  their  tests  of  certainty  in  a  region  which 
is  not  spiritual  at  all,  and  in  which  certainty  hardly  involves  the 

1  A.  F.  W.  Ingram,  A  Mission  of  the  Spirit,  152. 


WHAT  WAS  THOMAS?  193 

inward  judgment  of  the  true  man,  but  only,  at  most,  a  kind  of 
shadow  of  the  man.  l 

(3)  But  Thomas,  to  use  a  phrase  of  Plato's,  "  doubted  well." 
His  was  the  doubt  of  deep  earnestness.  He  realized  what  was 
involved  in  his  doubts :  there  was  not  a  grain  of  affectation  about 
him.  He  was  not  like  the  dilettante  doubters  we  sometimes  meet 
to-day,  who  brush  the  whole  thing  lightly  aside  with  the  superior 
air  of  those  who  have  outlived  old-fashioned  superstitions ;  he  was 
in  dead  earnest.  He  knew  perfectly  well  that  if  this  Sun  set  no 
other  sun  was  likely  to  rise  ;  he  knew  perfectly  well  that  if  this 
Man  failed  him  he  would  never  have  the  heart  to  trust  another  ; 
and  he  was  quite  aware,  in  his  grim  and  silent  way,  that  what  he 
doubted  was  life  or  death,  not  only  to  himself  but  also  to  a  dying 
world. 

And  then,  again,  Thomas  doubted  well  because  he  was  loyal, 
not  only  to  Christ  but  also  to  the  Church.  He  was  found  with  all 
the  rest  of  the  disciples,  in  spite  of  his  doubt,  at  the  next  meeting  : 
he  was  not  one  of  those  who  at  the  first  difficulty  fling  off  their  old 
friends,  throw  over  their  Communions,  and  turn  their  back  on  the 
Church.  He  had  a  steadier  judgment;  he  knew  there  must  be 
difficulties  in  religion,  and,  painful  as  they  were,  the  place  where 
he  would  be  most  likely  to  have  them  solved  would  be  where  he 
had  received  so  much  help  and  light  before ;  and  because  he  kept 
with  the  Church  Jesus  found  His  friend  in  his  old  place  when 
He  came  to  help  him. 

^[  Whilst  minister  of  the  Evangelical  Union  Church  at  Rath- 
gate,  Fairbairn  went  through  a  spiritual  crisis,  in  which,  as  he 
said,  "  My  faith  broke  down."  In  his  despair,  he  went  abroad, 
where  he  studied  for  a  year,  and  where  he  came  to  realize  doubt 
was  not  sin,  but  rather  a  growing  pain  of  the  soul,  a  means  to 
a  wider  outlook  and  a  clearer  faith.  .  .  .  What  he  learned  in 
Germany  and  the  ohange  it  produced  in  his  relation  to  the 
problems  of  religious  thought  may  best  be  stated  in  his  own 
words:  "(l)The  doubts  which  had  been  hidden  like  secret  sins 
lost  their  power  to  harm,  and  ceased  to  cause  shame.  Freedom 
of  expression  had  taken  from  them  their  sting.  And  with  freedom 
there  had  come  a  new  personal  conviction.  So  (2)  a  simple  and 
wonderful  thing  happened :  theology  changed  from  a  system 
doubted  to  a  system  believed.  I5ut  the  system  believed  was  not 

1  R.  H.  Hutton,  Asj'tcta  of  Reliyioua  and  Scientific  Thought,  29, 
MARY-SIMON — 13 


i94  THOMAS 

the  old  system  which  had  been  doubted.  (3)  And  so  a  third  and 
more  wonderful  thing  happened:  theology  was  reborn  and  with  it 
a  new  and  higher  faith.  God  seemed  a  nobler  and  more  majestic 
Being  when  interpreted  through  the  Son :  the  Eternal  Sonship 
involved  Eternal  Fatherhood.  Since  God  had  created  out  of  love, 
He  could  not  so  suddenly  turn  to  hate.  Since  His  grace  was  His 
glory,  He  could  not  and  would  not  use  the  ill-doing  of  ignorance 
or  inexperience  to  justify  His  dislike.  (4)  Nor  could  the  old 
narrow  notion  which  made  salvation  rather  an  affair  of  a  future 
state  than  of  this  life  survive  on  the  face  of  those  larger  ideas. 
Redemption  concerned  both  the  many  and  the  one,  the  whole  as 
well  as  the  parts,  the  unity  as  much  as  the  units.  I  believed  then 
what  I  still  believe,  that  the  Christ  I  had  learned  to  know  repre 
sents  the  largest  and  most  gracious  truth  God  has  ever  communi 
cated  to  man." l 

K  With  Clough  this  sort  of  large,  half-gonial  suspense  of 
judgment,  that  looks  upon  natural  instincts  with  a  sort  of  loving 
doubt,  and  yields  with  cautious  hand  a  carefully  stinted  authority 
to  human  yearnings  in  order  not  wholly  to  lose  a  share  in  the 
moving  forces  of  life,  was  unfortunately  not  supplemented  by  any 
confident  belief  in  a  Divine  answer  to  those  vague  yearnings,  and 
consequently  his  tone  is  almost  always  at  once  sweet  and  sad.  It 
is  saturated  with  the  deep  but  musical  melancholy  of  such  thoughts 
as  the  following,  whose  pathos  shows  how  much  more  profoundly 
and  deeply  Clough  thirsted  for  truth  than  many  of  even  the  most 
confident  of  those  of  us  who  believe  that  there  is  a  living  water  at 
which  to  slake  our  thirst : — 

To  spend  uncounted  years  of  pain, 

Again,  again,  and  yet  again, 

In  working  out  in  heart  and  brain 

The  problem  of  our  being  here; 
To  gather  facts  from  far  and  near, 
Upon  the  mind  to  hold  them  clear, 
And,  knowing  more  may  yet  appear, 
Unto  one's  latest  breath  to  fear 
The  premature  result  to  draw- 
Is  this  the  object,  end,  and  law, 
And  purpose  of  our  being  here  ? 2 

3.  But  the  fact  remains,  says  the  conventional  Christian 
apologist,  that  he  doubted,  and  that,  then  as  now,  doubt  is 

1  W.  B.  Selbie,  The  Life  of  Andrew  Martin  Fairbaini,  39, 
2K.  H.  Hutton,  Literary  Essays,  305. 


WHAT  WAS  THOMAS?  195 

sinful  Ts  that  quite  so  ?  We  remember  with  what  gentleness 
and  strength  Tennyson  resisted  the  same  suggestion  as  it  came 
to  him  from  his  sister,  who  was  to  have  been  Arthur  Hallam's 
bride.  Read  the  96th  canto  of  In  Memoriam,  especially  these 
lines : 

He  fought  his  doubts  and  gather'd  strength, 
He  would  not  make  his  judgment  blind, 
He  faced  the  spectres  of  the  mind 
And  laid  them:  thus  he  came  at  length 

To  find  a  stronger  faith  his  own ; 

And  Power  was  with  him  in  the  night, 
Which  makes  the  darkness  and  the  light, 

And  dwells  not  in  the  light  alone. 

TJ  It  can  be  readily  conceived  how  a  serious  student  like 
Flint,  possessed  of  a  wealth  of  knowledge  exceptional  for  his 
years,  with  powers  of  thought  equal  to  his  learning,  impelled 
by  moral  earnestness  and  with  a  conscience  quick  to  take 
otfence  at  the  slightest  deviation  from  truth,  was  bound  to  come 
into  conflict  with  the  official  orthodoxy  of  his  day ;  and  that 
is  what  really  happened.  Before  he  reached  his  twentieth  year 
he  had  to  tight  his  battle  of  the  soul,  and  he  did  not  conquer 
without  experiencing  those  mental  pangs  which  have  been  the 
lot  of  all  earnest  spirits  that  have  passed  through  similar 
troubles.  What  the  particular  nature  of  the  conflict  was,  we 
do  not  exactly  know.  He  has  left  no  record.  But  in  an  address 
which  he  delivered  to  the  Young  Men's  Christian  Association,  in 
connection  with  the  East  Church,  when  he  was  on  the  eve  of 
leaving  Aberdeen,  he  thus  refers  to  this  time  of  mental  conflict : 

"  Almost  ever  since  I  can  remember,  the  great  spiritual 
questions  which  agitate  society,  which  harass  young  men  most 
of  all,  sometimes  even  under  seeming  levity  of  disposition,  have 
been  of  vital  interest  to  me;  and  whatever  of  solid  footing 
in  Divine  truth  I  seem  to  myself  to  have  found  has  been  gained 
with  a  struggle  and  a  pain  which  I  thank  God  devoutly  for ;  so 
that  with  the  deeper  trials  of  young  and  earnest  spirits  I  do 
feel  in  sympathy  through  every  tibre  of  my  being." 

Now  it  seems  to  me  that  these  are  words  which  those  who 
knew  Flint  in  after  years,  when  he  was  regarded  as  the  "  Defender 
of  the  Faith,"  might  well  ponder.  A  tradition  had  grown  up 
round  him  which  shadowed  him  forth  as  one  who  from  earliest 
years  had  his  feet  planted  firmly  on  the  foundations  of  truth, 
and  who  had  never  felt  these  foundations  sinking  under  him. 
While  many  have  admired,  and  others  have  been  grateful  for, 


196  THOMAS 

the  masterly  way  in  which  he  re-establishes  the  main  doctrines 
of  religion,  very  few  were  aware  that  his  power  was  the  fruit 
of  a  great  conflict  which  raged  in  his  student  days,  and  that 
the  firm  land  on  which  he  stood  had  been  reached  only  after 
struggling  through  the  breakers.1 

T[  When  I  think  of  Thomas  I  always  think  of  an  incident  of 
a  Methodist,  a  man  with  a  bright,  joyous  experience,  in  the 
North  of  England,  a  man  who  could  shout  with  gladness : 

O  for  a  thousand  tongues  to  sing 
My  great  Redeemer's  praise  ! 

who  never  had  the  slightest  difficulty  in  reading  "  his  title 
clear  to  mansions  in  the  sky."  He  married  a  wife  who  had 
a  great  deal  of  difficulty  in  all  these  things,  and  who  could 
not  follow  him  in  his  Methodist  raptures.  She  was  greatly 
troubled  because  of  her  lack  of  experience,  and  he  was  greatly 
troubled  because  of  her  lack  of  experience  and  her  good  character, 
and  he  was  not  able  to  reconcile  the  two.  She  came  to  die,  and 
when  she  was  dying  he  was  in  great  distress.  He  knelt  by  her 
bedside  and  prayed  that  God  would  give  her  some  revelation  of 
His  love  that  she  might  have  an  experience  like  his  joyous  experi 
ence.  He  turned  to  her  and  asked  her  whether  she  could  not  leave 
some  testimony  behind  of  God's  love,  but  her  only  reply  was  "  It's 
very  dark  !  It's  very  dark  ! "  The  man  was  in  an  anguish  by  her 
bedside,  and  pleaded  with  God  that  light  might  come,  but  she  only 
said,  "  It's  very  dark  !  It's  very  dark  !  "  He  said,  "  Your  character 
is  beautiful.  Everybody  knows  you  are  better  than  I  am,  and 
I  certainly  know  the  joy  of  the  Lord  and  have  experienced  His 
pardoning  love.  Why  is  it  ?  Why  should  He  leave  you  in  this 
dimness  and  mist  and  darkness  ?  "  but  she  only  replied,  "  It's  very 
dark ! "  Then  just  before  the  light  of  life  went  out  altogether, 
she  clasped  his  hand  and  said,  "  It's  very  dark,  but  God  sometimes 
puts  His  children  to  sleep  in  the  dark,  and  they  wake  up  in  the 
morning."  * 

IL 

WAS  HE  A  PESSIMIST? 

1.  When  Thomas  is   not  called  the  doubting  disciple,  he   is 
singled  out   as   the   despondent   disciple.     As   the   evidence   for 

1  D.  Macmillan,  The  Life  of  Robert  Flint,  64. 
•  J.  E.  Rattenbury,  The  Twelve,  200. 


WHAT  WAS  THOMAS?  197 

his  doubt  is  found  in  the  saying,  "  Except  I  see  in  his  hands 
the  print  of  the  nails,  and  put  my  finger  into  the  print  of  the 
nails,  and  put  my  hand  into  his  side,  I  will  not  believe  " ;  so  the 
evidence  for  his  despondency  is  found  in  the  previous  saying, 
"  Let  us  also  go,  that  we  may  die  with  him." 

Accordingly  Prebendary  Calthrop  speaks  of  his  "  despondent 
character,"  and  "  what  we  may  perhaps  call  his  pessimistic  bias." 
And  even  Dr.  A.  B.  Davidson  says  :  "  The  prevailing  character 
of  the  man  was  this  proclivity  to  despond,  a  certain  want  of 
buoyancy  of  mind,  coupled  perhaps  with  a  feminine  tenderness 
and  sensitiveness,  and,  it  may  be,  not  without  that  self-will  and 
obstinacy  and  love  of  solitude  which  many  times  go  along  with 
too  great  delicacy  of  feeling.  He  was  the  kind  of  man  whom  one 
often  observes  in  the  East,  of  a  gloomy  dark  exterior,  to  appear 
ance  emotionless  and  with  a  bent  to  melancholy,  yet  fervid  and 
fiery  within,  like  a  stream  of  lava  over  which  there  gathers  a  hard 
black  crust,  but  within  there  rolls  a  red  molten  stream  of  fire." 

"  The  doubt  of  Thomas,"  says  Dr.  W.  J.  Dawson,  "  is  the 
despondence  of  a  great  spirit.  It  breathes  like  a  gentle  sigh 
through  that  other  saying  of  his  :  '  Lord,  we  know  not  whither 
thou  goest ;  how  know  we  the  way  ? '  He  was,  perhaps,  one  of 
those  men  through  whose  natures  a  vein  of  tender  melancholy 
runs.  Such  men  are  like  delicate  musical  instruments,  the 
brilliance  of  whoso  tone  suffers  by  the  slightest  change  of  tempera 
ture  ;  they  often  suffer  by  the  physical  oppression  of  the  robust, 
who  little  know  how  their  unsympathetic  brusqueness  sets  sensi 
tive  nerves  jarring,  and  how  their  rough  touch  sets  old  bruises 
aching;  their  life  moves  in  an  orbit  where  transitions  are  rapid 
and  frequent ;  they  have  their  bright  moments  and  their  dark  ; 
they  are  of  unequal  temperament;  they  receive  all  impressions 
acutely  because  they  are  acutely  sensitive ;  their  joy  is  ecstasy, 
their  suffering  is  agony,  their  disheartening  is  despair.  Think  of 
such  men  as  Dr.  John  Brown,  the  author  of  Rob  and  His  Friends, 
in  whom  humour  and  melancholy  lay  so  close  together  ;  of  Charles 
Lamb,  whose  laughter  is  the  foil  to  such  unutterable  despair  ; 
of  Coleridge  with  his  gleams  of  celestial  light  breaking  out  of 
bitter  darkness ;  of  Johnson,  with  his  sturdy  faith  ever  struggling 
through  the  inertia  and  gloom  of  hypochondriac  fancies;  of 
Cow}>er,  who  can  write  with  such  delicate  humour,  such  fresh- 


198  THOMAS 

ness  of  touch,  such  inspired  faith  and  joy,  and  yet  can  die 
saying,  '  I  feel  unutterable  despair.'  Think  even  of  a  man  of 
action,  and  heroic  action,  like  Abraham  Lincoln,  whose  laughter 
was  the  relief  of  hereditary  brooding  melancholy,  and  was,  as 
lie  said,  'the  vent/  which  saved  him  from  a  frenzied  brain  or 
broken  heart.  Such  men  may  furnish  us  with  a  hint  of  what 
Thomas  called  Didymus  may  have  been.  I  think  that  his,  too, 
was  a  tender,  brooding,  intensely  sensitive  nature.  He  dwelt 
in  the  exceeding  brightness  or  the  blackness  of  darkness.  His 
quick  intelligence  perceived  things  with  an  infinite  clearness  of 
vision,  and  they  were  things  which  often  he  would  rather  not 
have  seen.  He  had  none  of  the  blindness  of  Peter  to  the  shadow 
of  coming  events.  He  never  debated  as  John  did  who  should  be 
the  first  in  the  Kingdom.  He  followed  Christ  because  he  could 
not  help  it;  but  he  knew  it  was  to  judgment  and  death.  He 
doubted,  not  because  he  would,  but  because  he  must ;  and  it  was 
out  of  that  cloud  of  unutterable  misgiving  that  he  sent  forth  this 
heroic  cry,  '  Let  us  also  go,  that  we  may  die  with  him.' " 

U  There  are  two  classes  of  minds  which  habitually  stand 
in  the  post  of  outlook — the  man  of  the  laurel  and  the  man  of 
the  cypress.  The  first  sees  the  world  as  rose-coloured.  It  is 
all  brightness,  all  beauty,  all  glory — a  scene  of  splendid  possi 
bilities  which  is  waiting  to  open  for  him  its  gates  of  gold.  The 
second,  on  the  other  hand,  approaches  it  with  dismay.  To  him 
the  prospect  looks  all  dark.  He  is  a  pessimist  previous  to  experi 
ence.  He  is  sure  he  will  never  succeed.  He  is  sure  the  gate 
will  not  open  when  he  tries  it.  He  feels  that  he  has  nothing  to 
expect  from  life.  He  hangs  his  harp  upon  a  willow,  and  goes 
forth  to  sow  in  tears. 

And  each  of  these  has  a  representative  in  the  New  Testament. 
I  think  the  man  of  the  laurel  is  the  evangelist  John.  From 
the  very  beginning  he  is  optimistic.  Even  when  Christ  was 
on  the  road  to  that  martyrdom  of  which  He  had  warned  His 
disciples,  John  is  so  sanguine  of  success  that  he  applies  for  a 
place  in  the  coming  kingdom.  And  through  life  this  optimism 
does  not  desert  him.  His  very  power  to  stand  beside  the  cross 
was  a  power  of  hope.  It  was  not  that  he  excelled  his  brother- 
disciples  in  the  nerve  to  bear  pain.  It  was  rather  that  to  him 
the  spectacle  conveyed  an  impression  of  less  pain — that  he  saw 
in  it  elements  of  triumph  as  well  't,s  trial,  signs  of  strength  along 
with  marks  of  sacrifice. 


WHAT  WAS  THOMAS?  199 

But  if  the  man  of  the  laurel  is  John,  the  man  of  the  cypress 
is  assure  dly  Thomas.  There  are  men  whose  melancholy  is  the 
result  of  their  scepticism  ;  Thomas's  scepticism  is  the  result  of  his 
melancholy.  He  came  to  the  facts  of  life  with  an  antecedent 
prejudice;  he  uniformly  expected  from  the  banquet  an  inferior 
menu.  It  is  a  great  mistake  to  imagine  that  the  collapse  came 
with  the  Crucifixion.  Strictly  spoaking,  there  was  no  collapse. 
If  I  understand  the  picture  aright  it  represents  the  figure  of  a 
man  who  could  never  stand  at  his  full  stature  but  was  always 
bent  towards  the  ground.  It  was  not  from  timidity.  He  was  a 
courageous  man,  ready  to  do  and  dare  anything  even  when  he  was 
most  downcast.  It  was  not  from  a  mean  nature.  He  was  a  man 
of  the  noblest  spirit — capable  of  the  most  heroic  deeds  of  sacrifice. 
That  which  gave  him  a  crouching  attitude  was  simply  a  constitu 
tional  want  of  hope — a  natural  inability  to  take  the  bright  view. 
It  was  this  which  made  him  a  sceptic.1 

2.  Thomas's  melancholy  is  given  as  the  explanation  of  his 
absence  when  first  the  risen  Lord  appeared  to  the  disciples. 
"  When  the  last  terrible  tragedy  came,"  says  Hough,  "  Thomas  sank 
into  misanthropy  and  despair.  It  was  not  so  much  a  reaction  with 
him  as  with  the  others.  He  had  had  his  deep  misgivings,  and 
lately  they  had  grown  stronger.  Now  his  sober  judgment  was 
vindicated.  His  Master  had  failed.  He  had  been  killed.  Thomas 
would  never  see  Him  again.  It  was  small  comfort,  however,  that 
Thomas  had  expected  some  tragic  end  to  the  ministry  of  his 
Master.  He  had  loved  Jesus,  and  now  that  face  of  glowing,  eager 
friendliness  and  lofty  love  would  never  be  seen  again.  His  heart 
bled  at  the  thought.  He  had  nothing  to  look  forward  to.  He 
had  only  wonderful  memories.  He  sat  nursing  them  in  silent 
gloom,  lie  had  not  heart  enough  to  meet  with  the  disciples  as 
in  mutual  fellowship  they  tried  to  comfort  one  another.  Thus  he 
missed  the  first  appearance  of  Jesus  to  the  company  of  the  disciples." 

^[  The  character  of  Thomas  is  an  anatomy  of  melancholy.  If 
"  to  say  man  is  to  say  melancholy,"  then  to  say  Thomas,  called 
Didymus,  is  to  say  religious  melancholy.  Peter  was  of  such  an 
ardent  and  enthusiastical  temperament  that  he  was  always 
speaking,  whereas  Thomas  was  too  great  a  melancholian  to  speak 
much,  and  when  he  ever  did  speak  it  was  always  out  of  the  depths 
of  his  hypochondriacal  heart.2 

1  (I.  Matlu-son,  The  lleprrs'nttitire  Alfn  of  the  New  Testament,  187. 
3  A.  Whytc,  Siblf  Characters,  15<>. 


200  THOMAS 

*|]  In  that  Infnmo  of  his,  which  is  simply  the  subterranean 
chambers  of  the  soul  thrown  upon  a  screen,  Dante  places  the 
doubters,  the  deniers,  next  to  the  slothful,  on  the  side  farther 
from  the  light,  nearer  to  the  uttermost  state  of  darkness.  In  his 
view,  that  is  to  say  once  again,  doubt  or  denial  may  creep  upon 
the  human  soul  and  harden  over  it  like  a  crust,  not  so  much  in 
consequence  of  this  or  that  particular  incident  in  the  man's 
intellectual  life,  but  as  the  last  result  of  his  permitting  the  dis 
heartening  things  in  human  experience  to  weigh  unduly  upon 
him,  to  dwell  habitually  with  him.  According  to  Dante,  one  may 
sink  into  an  invincible  attitude  of  doubt  or  denial,  by  simply 
encouraging  within  oneself  the  sad  or  dismal  view  of  things,  by 
refusing  to  entertain  the  evidence  on  the  other  side,  giving  it 
equal  weight :  nothing  worse  than  that.  But  there  is  not  anything 
which  could  be  worse  for  beings  such  as  we  are,  who  have  been 
sent  into  the  world,  not  to  hesitate  about  things,  but  to  live  our 
life  once  for  all,  with  all  our  strength.1 

3.  Now  these  despondent  men  are  sometimes  lifted  to  the 
mountain-tops  of  faith  and  confidence  by  the  surprising  joys 
which  come  to  them.  Their  moods  change  rapidly.  From  the 
deep  Valley  of  Humiliation  and  the  grounds  of  Giant  Despair 
they  are  raised  to  the  Delectable  Mountains  and  the  height  of 
celestial  vision.  So  it  was  with  Thomas,  when  the  risen  Christ 
was  truly  revealed  to  him  and  proved.  He  who  had  believed  not 
at  all  believed  most  then,  and  passed  into  a  radiant  confidence 
and  joy  ;  and  we  may  well  suppose  that  the  pessimism  of  the  man 
was  thoroughly  cured  by  the  sweet  medicine  which  had  been 
administered  to  it,  and  that  afterwards  his  love  and  courage  and 
faith  were  brightened  and  strengthened  by  a  hopefulness  and 
cheerfulness  as  great  as  any  other  of  the  disciples  showed. 

TJ  Not  only  did  Stevenson  diligently  seek  out  the  encouraging 
and  bright  aspects  of  experience  as  he  actually  found  them. 
Jesus  Christ  once  said  to  a  doubting  apostle,  "  Blessed  are  they 
that  have  not  seen,  and  yet  have  believed."  Stevenson  believed 
through  many  an  hour  when  he  had  not  seen,  and  so  was  blessed. 
When  all  was  dark,  lie  pointed  his  telescope  right  into  the  black 
ness,  and  found  a  star.  It  is  thus  that  faith  may  imitate  the 
Master's  work,  calling  things  which  are  not  as  though  they  are, 
and  find  that  the  dark  world  has  no  power  to  resist  faith's 
command  when  it  boldly  says,  Let  there  be  light.2 

1  J.  A.  Hutton,  Pilgrims  in  the  Region,  of  Faith,  24. 
8  J.  Keliuan,  The  Faith  of  Robert  Louis  Stevenson,  253. 


WHAT  WAS  THOMAS?  201 

So  now,  thy  Lord,  thy  God  confess, 

Believe  and  worship,  too, 

And  first  adore, — yet  they  have  more 

Who  deem  the  witness  true. 

Thy  faith  has  seen  but  what  was  seen, — 

Blest  they  who  still  believe 

What  eye  nor  ear  shall  see  or  hear, 

Nor  heart  of  man  conceive. 

O,  in  my  body,  not  in  Thine, 

Lord  Jesus,  let  me  see 

The  blessed  marks  of  love  divine, 

Which  Thou  hast  borne  for  me; 

Compunction  sweet  on  hands  and  feet, 

The  pierced,  the  open  heart; 

Or  e'er,  without  one  faithless  doubt, 

I  see  Thee  as  Thou  art.1 


III. 

WAS  HE  A  HEROIC  LOVER? 

We  may  say,  then,  that  Thomas  was  a  doubter,  but  we  must 
not  mistake  the  nature  of  his  doubt.  So  we  may  say  that  he  was 
a  pessimist.  But  to  say  that  lie  was  a  doubter  or  a  pessimist  is 
not  to  explain  altogether  his  conduct  or  to  do  justice  to  his 
character. 

1.  It  is  manifestly  unfair  to  find  the  proof  of  his  pessimism  in 
the  words,  "  Let  us  also  go,  that  we  may  die  with  him."  Is  there 
any  evidence  that  the  other  disciples  were  a  particle  more 
hopeful  ?  Nay,  as  regards  the  matter  of  this  saying,  was  Jesus 
Himself  more  hopeful  ?  Jesus  had  told  His  friends  before  this 
that  He  would  have  to  die  when  He  went  up  to  Jerusalem. 
Thomas  takes  no  more  gloomy  a  view  of  the  situation  than  his 
Master  had  taken.  Indeed,  he  simply  accepts  Christ's  own  pre 
diction,  and  bases  his  proposal  upon  it.  And  he  was  right  in  his 
anticipation.  It  is  true  Jesus  did  not  die  immediately  He  went 
up  to  Judaea  on  this  errand  of  mercy.  There  was  another  brief 
respite.  But  Jerusalem  meant  death  sooner  or  later,  and  it  was 
not  long  before  the  net  was  drawn  round  the  Victim,  and  His  own 
1  Herbert  Kyuaaton. 


202  THOMAS 

forecast  verified.  Jesus  did  die  in  Jerusalem  only  two  or  three 
months  after  Thomas  had  spoken  of  the  coming  event.  We  may 
even  say  that  his  words  showed  his  faith  and  insight.  Thomas 
had  now  accepted  what  Peter  had  previously  rejected.  The  notion 
that  Jesus  should  suffer  and  die  had  been  repudiated  by  the 
leading  Apostle  with  indignation ;  it  was  accepted  by  his  humbler 
companion  with  settled  resignation. 

There  is  another  side  to  Thomas's  utterance,  which  gives  it  an 
entirely  different  character.  Instead  of  taking  it  as  a  confession 
of  despondency  we  may  treat  it  as  a  note  of  heroism.  It  is  a 
bugle  call  to  his  shrinking  comrades.  They  are  terror-stricken  at 
their  Master's  determination,  frozen  into  silence  by  fear.  Thomas 
breaks  the  cowardly  silence.  There  is  no  denying  it :  Jerusalem 
spells  death.  But  Jesus  will  face  this  fate  that  awaits  Him  there. 
Then  He  must  not  go  alone.  His  little  remnant  of  followers,  the 
few  faithful  disciples  still  left  when  so  many  have  forsaken  Him 
and  fled,  must  not  desert  Him  in  this  desperate  extremity.  To 
follow  Him  still  would  seem  to  involve  sharing  His  fate.  Be  it 
so,  thinks  Thomas.  Is  He  to  die  ?  Then  let  us  die  with  Him. 
Christ's  courage  is  infectious,  and  Thomas  is  the  first  to  catch  the 
infection.  From  him  it  spreads  through  all  the  circle  of  disciples. 
Braced  by  this  one  man's  example,  they  too  follow  Jesus,  making 
straight  for  the  centre  of  peril,  for  the  goal  of  doom.  That  is 
heroic.  For  the  moment,  at  least,  Thomas  is  a  hero,  and  his 
heroism  passes  into  the  whole  band.  Under  his  inspiring  influence, 
they  all  feel  ready  to  leap  into  the  jaws  of  death. 

^|  You  will  have  heard  the  story  which  Napier  relates  of  a 
young  officer  riding  down  into  his  first  battle,  with  pale  face  and 
trembling  hand,  when  a  companion,  looking  at  him,  said,  "  Why, 
man,  you're  pale ;  you're  afraid ! "  "I  know  I  am,"  he  quietly 
rejoined ;  "  and  if  you  were  half  as  much  afraid  as  I  am  you 
would  run  away."  That  was  courage,  the  higher  courage ;  the 
flesh  failing  for  fear,  every  nerve  trembling,  loosened,  unstrung, 
but  the  soul  resolved  and  calm,  ordering  the  body  to  its  duty. 
And  that  was  the  spirit  of  Thomas:  lie  can  at  least  die  with 
Christ. 

Shall  Jesus  bear  the  Cross  alone 

And  all  the  world  go  free  ? 
No  ;  there's  a  Cross  for  every  one 
And  there's  a  Cross  for  me. 


WHAT  WAS  THOMAS?  203 

That  is  the  meaning  of  Thomas's  speech,  and  the  very  fact  that 
lie  thinks  that  the  peril  and  the  cross  should  be  avoided  invests 
with  a  sublimer  glory  his  sacrifice  of  self  in  facing  them.  Few 
more  heroic  sayings  have  ever  been  recorded  in  history  than  this : 
"  Let  us  also  go,  that  we  may  die  with  him  ! " l 

T|  In  every  earnest  life  there  are  weary  Mats  to  tread,  with  the 
heavens  out  of  sight — no  sun,  no  moon,  and  not  a  tint  of  light 
upon  the  path  below ;  when  the  only  guidance  is  the  faith  of 
brighter  hours,  and  the  secret  Hand  we  are  too  numb  and  dark  to 
feel.  But  to  the  meek  and  faithful  it  is  not  always  so.  Now  and 
then  something  touches  the  dull  dream  of  sense  and  custom,  and 
the  desolation  vanishes  away :  the  spirit  leaves  its  witness  with 
us :  the  divine  realities  come  up  from  the  past  and  straightway 
enter  the  present :  the  ear  into  which  we  poured  our  prayer  is  not 
deaf;  the  infinite  eye  to  which  we  turned  is  not  blind,  but  looks 
in  with  answering  mercy  on  us.* 

2.  Now  this  heroism  sprang  out  of  love  to  Christ.  If  Thomas 
was  a  doubter  or  despondent,  he  conquered  his  doubts  and  his 
despondency  because  he  never  lost  his  love.  Who  can  miss  the 
deep  love  that  breathes  in  the  words  which  have  been  quoted  ? 
Thomas  was  a  thorough  disciple:  for  he  not  only  trusted  the 
saving  power  of  Jesus,  but  loved  Jesus  Himself.  Separation  from 
home  and  kindred  this  loyal  soul  could  bear,  but  not  separation 
from  Jesus.  What  caused  him  anxiety  was  nothing  relating  to 
his  own  prospects,  but  only  the  Master's  safety.  He  is  knit  to 
Jesus  with  so  pure  a  love  that  he  will  incur  the  risk  cf  death 
rather  than  sull'er  Him  to  take  the  journey  to  Judaja  alone.  It 
was  probably  the  discernment  of  this  affection  in  Thomas's  heart 
that  led  John  to  give  him  such  a  prominent  place  in  the  later 
pages  of  his  Gospel. 

T|  For  devotion  and  heroic  love  I  know  of  no  one  to  excel 
Thomas.  "  As  the  Lord  liveth,"  said  Elisha  in  answer  to  Elijah's 
appeal  to  him  to  leave  him,  "as  the  Lord  liveth,  and  as  thy  soul 
liveth,  I  will  not  leave  thee."  "  Intreat  me  not  to  leave  thee," 
said  Kuth,  the  Moabitess,  to  Naomi  her  mother-in-law;  "whither 
thou  goest,  I  will  go;  and  where  thou  lodgest,  I  will  lodge;  where 
thou  diest,  will  I  die,  and  there  will  I  be  buried :  the  Lord  do  so 
to  me,  and  more  also,  if  aught  but  death  part  thee  and  me." 
Those  are  moving  and  pathetic  instances  of  loyalty,  but  tliny  are 

1  W.  J.  Dawaon,  Tlu  Church  of  To-Murrow,  98. 
1  James  M/irtineau. 


204  THOMAS 

not  more  moving  and  pathetic  than  the  loyalty  with  which 
Thomas  was  ready  to  dare  anything  for  his  Master.  "  Let  us  also 
go,"  said  this  man  of  the  devoted  heart,  "  that  we  may  die  with 
him."  And  this,  as  it  is  Thomas's  chief  characteristic,  is  also  his 
crowning  glory.  Of  Thomas  it  might  be  said,  as  of  that  woman 
who  was  much  forgiven,  that  "  he  loved  much."  He  loved  Christ 
with  all  the  fervour  and  passion  of  his  deep  and  sorrowful  heart1 

3.  But  is  this  moral  heroism  compatible  with  the  signs  of 
doubt  which  are  seen  in  Thomas?  We  think  it  is.  Thomas 
was  a  man  who  desired  certitude.  His  love  led  him  to 
recognize  the  greatness  of  the  issues  which  the  life  and  words 
of  Christ  put  before  him,  and  he  was  restless  under  vague 
ness  or  uncertainty.  Too  many  people  view  all  things  through 
a  mental  haze.  They  cannot  tell  what  they  see  and  what  they  do 
not  see.  It  would  be  impossible  for  them  to  make  a  clear  con 
fession  of  faith,  for  they  do  not  know  what  they  believe,  although 
they  honestly  think  they  believe  all  that  it  is  right  and  proper  to 
believe.  Such  faith  is  nearly  worthless.  At  all  events  it  is  blind. 
But  worse  than  this,  there  are  people  who  are  content  with  mere 
phrases  that  convey  no  meaning  whatever  to  their  minds.  It  is 
enough  for  them  that  the  words  sound  pious,  or  are  familiar  from 
religious  association,  or  come  with  the  sanction  of  venerated 
authority.  Thomas  would  never  sink  down  to  the  mental  indol 
ence  of  such  torpid  minds.  He  would  welcome  Dr.  Johnson's 
famous  advice  to  clear  our  minds  of  cant.  Even  if  the  words  we 
hear  are  quite  sincere  and  full  of  meaning,  such  as  the  words  of 
Christ,  if  we  cannot  see  the  drift  of  them  and  yet  settle  down  in 
lazy  satisfaction,  we  degrade  them  to  the  level  of  the  unreal,  and 
our  use  of  them  is  no  better  than  what  Dr.  Johnson  so  justly 
stigmatized.  There  is  a  sickly  state  of  mind  which  disgusts  all 
healthy  natures.  To  Thomas  this  would  be  an  abomination.  He 
may  not  be  able  to  see  far ;  but  what  he  does  see,  he  must  see 
clearly. 

"  I  will  not  believe,"  he  said ;  for  he  had  been  at  the  cruci 
fixion,  and  witnessed  all  that  went  on  there.  He  saw  the  Saviour 
raised  upon  the  tree.  He  saw  the  nails  driven  home,  and  the 
spear  thrust  in.  He  saw  it  all,  and  felt  it  all.  And  he  saw  the 
Lord  bleed  and  die.  The  whole  picture  fastened  itself  upon  his 

1  J.  D.  Jones,  The  Glorious  Company  of  tlic  Apostles,  180. 


WHAT  WAS  THOMAS?  205 

mind ;  it  was  a  constant  impression  which  he  carried  about  with 
him,  and  at  which  he  shuddered  every  moment.  And  it  is  from 
this  vivid  impression  that  he  speaks.  He  reads  off  the  whole 
outline  of  it  from  his  mind,  feature  after  feature — the  nails,  the 
spear,  the  hands,  the  side :  all  the  evidence  of  death.  And  until 
this  impression  be  removed  by  another  impression,  nothing  will 
make  the  man  believe. 

Thus  Thomas  was  just  what  some  of  our  triflers  would  like  to 
be  thought — a  sober,  truthful  man  who  insists  on  facing  the  facts  he 
sees  before  he  goes  a  step  farther.  Such  a  man  is  slow  to  move  : 
no  passing  enthusiasm  can  stir  him,  only  the  gravest  sense  of 
duty.  And  faith  is  none  the  worse  for  counting  the  cost  before  it 
gives  itself  to  Christ.  When  Wellington  saw  a  man  turn  pale  as 
he  marched  up  to  a  battery,  he  said,  "  That  is  a  brave  man.  He 
knows  his  danger,  and  faces  it  notwithstanding." 

^[  Those  Christians  are  blessed  who  need  to  leave  their  simple 
views  of  childhood's  faith  no  more  than  the  field-lark  does  her 
nest — rising  right  over  it  to  look  at  God's  morning  sun,  and  His 
wide,  beautiful  world,  singing  a  clear,  happy  song,  and  then 
sinking  straight  down  again  to  their  heart's  home.  But  those  are 
not  less  blessed  who,  like  the  dove,  lose  their  ark  for  a  while,  and 
return  to  it,  having  found  no  rest  for  the  sole  of  their  foot  save 
there.  They  have  a  deeper  experience  within,  and  carry  a  higher 
and  wider  message  to  the  world.  The  olive  leaf  in  the  mouth, 
plucked  from  the  passing  flood,  is  more  than  the  song  at  coming 
daylight.  It  is  as  Paul's  "Thanks  be  to  God  who  giveth  us  the 
victory,"  compared  with  the  children's  "  Hosannah."1 

1  John  Ker,  Thuughtsfor  Iltart  and  Life,  24. 


MATTHEW. 


LITERATURE. 

Bruce,  A.  B.,  With  Open  Face  (1896),  107. 

Carpeiiter,  W.  B.,  The  Son  of  Man  among  the  Sons  of  Men  (1893),  141, 

Cone,  0.,  Gospel-Criticism  and  Historical  Christianity  (1891),  173. 

Conybeare,  F.  C.,  Myth,  Magic,  and  Morals  (1909),  60. 

Cox,  S.,  A  Day  with  Christ,  67. 

Greenhough,  J.  O.,  The  Apostles  of  Our  Lord  (1904),  84. 

Haweis,  H.  R.,  The  Stoi-y  of  the  Four  (1886),  39. 

Jones,  J.  D.,  The  Glorious  Company  of  the  Apostles  (1904),  150. 

Lilley,  J.  P.,  Four  Apostles  (1912),  69. 

Lovell,  R.  H.,  First  Types  of  the  Christian  Life  (1895),  120. 

Matheson,  Q.,  The  Representative  Men  of  the  New  Testament  (1905),  183. 

Milligan,  G.,  in  Men  of  the  New  Testament  :  Matthew  to  Timothy  (1905),  1 

Rattenbury,  J.  E.,  The  Twelve  (1914),  213. 

Skrine,  J.  H.,  Saints  and  Worthies  (1901),  33. 

Whyte,  A.,  Bible  Characters  :  Joseph  and  Mary  to  Jamas  (1900),  63. 

Christian  World  Pulpit,  Ixxviii.  (1910)  77  (L.  B.  Phillips). 

Dictionary  of  Christ  and  tlu  Gospels,  ii.  (1908)  142  (J.  Herkless). 


MATTHEW. 

And  as  Jesus  passed  by  from  thence,  he  saw  a  man,  called  Matthew, 
sitting  at  the  place  of  toll :  and  he  saith  unto  him,  Follow  me.  And  he  arose, 
and  followed  him.  -Matt.  ix.  9. 

Matthew  the  publican. — Matt.  x.  3. 


MATTHEW  THE  PUBLICAN. 

IT  is  a  profoundly  significant  fact  that  the  first  of  the  four  Gospels, 
which  is  for  ever  associated  with  the  name  of  Matthew,  is  the  only 
one  that  contains  the  phrase  "  Matthew  the  publican  "  (Matt.  x.  3). 
He  did  not  himself  coin  the  phrase,  which  must  at  one  time  have 
been  on  many  lips.  But  he  alone  has  introduced  it  into  the 
Scriptures,  and  we  may  be  sure  that  he  did  so  with  a  definite 
purpose.  The  Church  in  all  ages  might  call  him  "  Matthew  the 
Apostle,"  or  "  Matthew  the  Evangelist,"  but  he  was  determined  to 
let  every  reader  of  his  book  know  that  in  his  pre-Christian  days 
he  was  known,  and  well-known,  as  "  Matthew  the  publican." 
That  was  his  occupation ;  and  more,  that  was  his  character ; 
therefore  let  that  still  be  his  name.  Neither  Murk  nor  Luke  nor 
John  sets  that  mark  of  ignominy  upon  him ;  he  brands  himself 
with  it.  He  might,  one  would  have  thought,  have  preferred  to 
bury  his  past.  He  could  have  been  a  truthful  enough  evangelist 
without  that  personal  reference  and  that  melancholy  confession. 
But  evidently  he  had  other  thoughts  on  the  matter.  He  probably 
felt  an  overmastering  necessity  laid  upon  him.  Impelled  by  the 
Spirit  to  which  he  owed  his  inspiration,  he  realized  somehow  that 
he  could  not  write  the  Gospel  truly  without  telling  the  truth 
about  himself. 

And  in  telling  it  he  inscribes  in  his  book — a  monument  more 
enduring  than  bronze — his  own  name  with  a  word  of  dishonour 

MARY-SIMON— 14 


210  MATTHEW 

and  shame  beside  it.  Not  with  any  desire  to  attract  attention  to 
himself,  but  in  deep  humility,  and  for  the  encouragement  of  others 
as  steeped  in  worldliness  and  sin  as  he  had  been,  he  gives  himself 
the  name  he  bore  before  he  knew  the  Lord.  Once  Matthew  the 
publican,  he  will  always  be  Matthew  the  publican.  It  would  have 
been  discourteous  and  ungenerous  had  any  of  his  fellow-Apostles 
continued  to  use  that  name,  either  in  their  ordinary  talk  or  in 
their  writings ;  but  it  is  the  surest  indication  of  the  greatness  as 
well  as  the  lowliness  of  Matthew's  own  soul  that  he  published  and 
perpetuated  the  stigma  by  inserting  it  in  the  Holy  Scriptures. 
For  the  glory  of  his  Lord,  who  redeemed  him  from  the  service  of 
mammon  and  received  him  into  the  circle  of  His  disciples  and 
friends,  he  kept  up,  as  a  Christian,  the  old  name  which  other  New 
Testament  writers  left  in  oblivion.  Matthew  the  publican,  like 
Paul  the  persecutor,  Augustine  the  libertine,  Bunyan  the  blas 
phemer,  and  many  another  sinner  snatched  as  a  brand  from  the 
burning,  felt  the  impulse,  when  he  became  a  Christian  writer,  to 
return  to  the  penitent-form  and  remain  there,  uttering  his  con 
fession  in  a  phrase  which  will  be  read  with  wondering  awe  and 
adoring  gratitude  as  long  as  the  world  lasts. 

His  confession  is  contained  in  three  words.  When  he  had 
called  himself  "  Matthew  the  publican,"  he  needed  to  say  no  more. 
For  the  Jew  who  demeaned  himself  to  become  a  publican — a 
telones  or  farmer  of  the  Roman  revenues — paid  a  great  price  for 
his  lucrative  office.  He  sold  his  country  and  his  soul  for  gold. 
He  was  in  the  first  place  a  traitor  to  his  country,  trampling  his 
nation's  ideals  in  the  dust.  In  order  to  enrich  himself,  and  to  do 
so  as  quickly  as  possible,  he  joined  hands  with  the  oppressors  of 
his  people.  And  what  was  still  worse,  he  deliberately  chose  a 
calling  in  which  it  was  impossible  to  be  an  honest  man.  In  our 
country  the  scale  of  taxation  is  fixed  by  law,  and  any  tax-gatherer 
who  appropriated  a  part  of  the  revenue  would  be  held  guilty  of 
fraud  and  severely  punished  for  his  crime.  But  in  ancient  Pales 
tine  the  business  of  collecting  the  revenue  was  let  to  the  highest 
bidder,  who  did  his  duty  if  he  paid  a  lump  sum  into  the  Eoman 
exchequer,  pocketing  the  surplus  of  the  profits,  or  who  received  a 
certain  percentage  of  whatever  he  contrived  to  extort  from  the 
long-suffering  populace.  In  either  case  the  system  evidently  lent 
itself  to  all  kinds  of  abuses.  The  more  exacting  a  farmer  of  the 


MATTHEW  2ii 

revenue  was — the  more  he  gave  the  rein  to  his  avarice,  grinding 
the  faces  of  the  poor,  hardening  hie  heart  and  stifling  his  con 
science — the  more  certain  was  he  to  become  a  rich  man.  But  he 
was  equally  certain  to  lose  what,  in  the  estimation  of  all  good 
men,  alone  makes  life  worth  living — the  honour,  affection,  and 
friendship  which  wealth  can  never  buy.  He  could  make  no 
friends  among  the  Romans,  by  whom  he  was  regarded  merely  as  a 
useful  tool ;  and  he  made  nothing  but  enemies  among  his  own 
people,  who  despised  and  scorned  him  as  a  traitor  while  they  hated 
and  feared  him  as  an  extortioner. 

When  a  wave  of  religious  revival  swept  over  the  Holy  Land 
in  the  days  of  John  the  Baptist,  the  publicans  came  among  the 
rest  to  receive  the  baptism  and  listen  to  the  counsels  of  the  stern 
prophet,  who  laid  the  axe  at  the  root  of  their  besetting  sin  by 
bidding  them  extort  no  more  than  what  was  appointed  them 
(Luke  iii.  12,  13).  The  words  indicate  clearly  enough  that  in  his 
opinion  the  ordinary  publican  was  an  extortioner.  When  Zacchaeus, 
the  chief  publican  (architeldnts)  of  Jericho,  was  deeply  moved  by 
the  presence  and  spirit  of  Jesus,  and  called  Him  for  the  first  time 
"  Lord,"  he  at  once  felt  a  pang  of  remorse  at  the  thought  of  all 
his  ill-gotten  wealth,  and  promised  to  restore  it  fourfold.  And 
Matthew  and  Zacclueus  were  but  two  of  a  crowd  of  Jews  who 
had  taken  service  under  the  Romans  in  order  to  feather  their 
nests  at  the  expense  of  their  own  countrymen. 

Many  taxes  had  to  be  collected — a  heavy  poll-tax,  customs 
duties  payable  at  the  frontiers,  land  taxes,  road  taxes,  and  many 
others.  Hence  the  publicans  (telQnai)  were  very  numerous,  and 
each  had  his  office  where  he  sat  and  collected  his  own  special 
tax,  either  alone  or  in  company  with  others,  for  associations  of 
leldnai  sometimes  united  to  make  the  contract.  And  every  penny 
paid  to  the  Romans  in  this  way  was,  in  the  eyes  of  Jewish  patriots, 
a  sign  and  symbol  of  Israel's  shame  ;  for  the  Jews  regarded  it  as 
a  fundamental  principle  of  their  religion  that  they  should  pay  no 
money  except  to  the  Temple  and  to  the  priests. 

II  Along  the  north  end  of  the  Sea  of  Galilee,  there  was  a  road 
leading  from  Damascus  to  Acre  on  the  Mediterranean,  and  on 
that  road  a  customs-office  marked  the  boundary  between  the 
territories  of  Philip  the  tetrarch  and  Herod  Antipas.  Matthew's 
occupation  was  the  examination  of  goods  which  passed  along  the 


2i2  MATTHEW 

road,  and  the  levying  of  the  toll.  The  work  of  a  publican  excited 
the  scorn  so  often  shown  beyond  the  limits  of  Israel  to  fiscal 
officers ;  and  when  he  was  a  Jew,  as  was  Matthew,  he  was  con 
demned  for  impurity  by  the  Pharisees.  A  Jew  serving  on  a  great 
highway  was  prevented  from  fulfilling  requirements  of  the  Law, 
and  was  compelled  to  violate  the  Sabbath  law,  which  the  Gentiles, 
who  conveyed  their  goods,  did  not  observe.  Schurer  makes  the 
statement  that  the  customs  raised  in  Capernaum  in  the  time  of 
Christ  went  into  the  treasury  of  Herod  Antipas,  while  in  Judaea 
they  were  taken  for  the  Imperial  fiscus.  Matthew  was  thus  not  a 
collector  under  one  of  the  companies  that  farmed  the  taxes  in  the 
Empire,  but  was  in  the  service  of  Herod.  Yet  the  fact  that  he 
belonged  to  the  publican  class,  among  whom  were  Jews  who  out 
raged  patriotism  by  gathering  tribute  for  Caesar,  subjected  him  to 
the  scorn  of  the  Pharisees  and  their  party ;  and  his  occupation 
itself  associated  him  with  men  who,  everywhere  in  the  Empire, 
were  despised  for  extortion  and  fraud,  and  were  execrated.1 


IL 

MATTHEW  THE  CHRISTIAN. 

1.  Matthew  had  his  "  receipt  of  custom  "  at  Capernaum,  by  the 
Lake  of  Galilee.  And  Capernaum  in  his  time  was  famous  for  other 
things  than  its  exquisite  scenery  and  its  thriving  trade  and  its 
rapidly  made  fortunes.  It  was  a  city  exalted  to  heaven  in  privi 
lege,  inasmuch  as  it  was  the  second  home  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth. 
Not  that  all  the  inhabitants  of  Capernaum  knew  what  that  meant. 
There  were  many  Jews  in  that  busy  town  whom  the  holy  presence 
and  the  mighty  works  of  Jesus  did  not  lead  to  repentance ;  many 
who  never  understood  their  privilege  or  knew  the  day  of  their 
visitation — many,  but  not  all  For  the  words  and  the  deeds  of 
Jesus  soon  began  to  make  a  profound  impression  upon  the  mind 
of  Matthew  the  publican,  reawakening  his  better  nature  and 
making  him  ashamed  of  his  nefarious  trade.  Some  of  those  sayings 
(logia)  of  our  Lord  which  he  afterwards  recorded  so  faithfully 
were  in  the  first  instance  sharp  arrows  piercing  his  own  heart  and 
conscience.  We  can  easily  imagine  what  were  the  winged  words 
that  came  to  him  with  convicting  power,  and  so  found  him.  They 
were  the  words  which  told  him  that  the  life  is  more  than  meat, 

1  J.  Herkleas,  iu  the  Dictionary  of  Christ  and  the  Gospel*,  ii.  142. 


MATTHEW  ai3 

that  a  man  is  not  profited  if  he  gain  the  whole  world  and  lose  his 
own  soul,  that  a  man's  chief  business  is  to  lay  up  treasures  for 
himself  not  on  earth  but  in  heaven,  and  that  it  is  easier  for  a 
camel  to  go  through  the  eye  of  a  needle  than  for  a  rich  man  to 
enter  the  Kingdom  of  God.  Words  like  these  destroyed  his 
peace. 

^J  Our  veritable  birth  dates  from  the  day  when,  for  the  first 
time,  we  feel  at  the  deepest  of  us  that  there  is  something  grave 
and  unexpected  in  life.  .  .  .  We  can  be  born  thus  more  than 
once ;  and  each  birth  brings  us  a  little  nearer  to  our  God.  But 
most  of  us  are  content  to  wait  till  an  event,  charged  with  almost 
irresistible  radiance,  intrudes  itself  violently  upon  our  darkness, 
and  enlightens  us,  in  our  own  despite.  We  await  I  know  not 
what  happy  coincidence,  when  it  may  so  come  about  that  the 
eyes  of  our  soul  shall  be  open  at  the  very  moment  that  something 
extraordinary  takes  place.  But  in  everything  that  happens  is  there 
light ;  and  the  greatness  of  the  greatest  men  has  but  consisted 
in  that  they  had  trained  their  eyes  to  be  open  to  every  ray  of  this 
light.1 

K  We  have  been  watching  successive  men  following  after  the 
ideal,  which,  like  some  receding  star,  travelled  before  its  pilgrims 
through  the  night.  In  Francis  Thompson's  Hound  of  Heaven,  the 
ideal  ifl  no  longer  passive,  a  thing  to  be  pursued.  It  halts  for  its 
pilgrims — "  the  star  which  chose  to  stoop  and  stay  for  us."  Nay, 
more,  it  turns  upon  them  and  pursues  them.  .  .  .  The  Hound  of 
Heaven  has  for  its  idea  the  chase  of  man  by  the  celestial  hunts 
man.  God  is  out  after  the  soul,  pursuing  it  up  and  down  the 
universe — God, — but  God  incarnate  in  Jesus  Christ,  whose  love 
and  death  are  here  the  embodiment  and  revelation  of  the  whole 
ideal  world.  The  hunted  one  flees,  as  men  so  constantly  flee  from 
the  Highest,  and  seeks  refuge  in  every  possible  form  of  earthly 
experience.  .  .  .  The  soul  is  never  allowed,  even  in  dream,  to  rest 
in  lower  things  until  satiety  brings  disillusion.  The  higher 
destiny  is  swift  at  her  heels ;  and  ever,  just  as  she  would  nestle  in 
some  new  covert,  she  is  torn  from  it  by  the  imperious  Best  of  all 
that  claims  her  for  its  own.  .  .  .  Thus  has  he  compassed  the 
length  and  bi^adth  of  the  universe  in  the  vain  attempt  to  flee 
from  God.  Now  at  last  he  finds  himself  at  bay.  God  has  been 
too  much  for  him.  Against  his  will,  and  wearied  out  with  the 
vain  endeavour  to  escape,  he  must  face  the  pursuing  Love  at 
last  ... 

1  M.  Maeterlinck,  The  Treasure  of  the  Humble,  173. 


2i4  MATTHEW 

Finally,  we  have  the  answer  of  Christ  to  the  soul  He  has 
chased  down  after  so  long  a  following : 

"  Strange,  piteous,  futile  thing  ' 
Wherefore  should  any  set  thee  love  apart  ? 
Seeing  none  but  I  makes  much  of  naught"  (He  said), 
"And  human  love  needs  human  meriting: 

How  hast  thou  merited — 
Of  all  man's  clotted  clay  the  dingiest  clot? 

Alack,  thou  knowest  not 
How  little  worthy  of  any  love  thou  art! 
Whom  wilt  thou  find  to  love  ignoble  thee, 

Save  Me,  save  only  Me? 
All  which  I  took  from  thee  I  did  but  take, 

Not  for  thy  harms, 
But  just  that  thou  might'st  seek  it  in  My  arms. 

All  which  thy  child's  mistake 
Fancies  as  lost,  I  have  stored  for  thee  at  home : 

Kise,  clasp  My  hand,  and  come ! " 

Halts  by  me  that  footfall : 

Is  my  gloom,  after  all, 
Shade  of  His  hand,  outstretched  caressingly  ? 

uAh,  fondest,  blindest,  weakest, 

I  am  He  whom  thou  seekest ! 
Thou  dravest  love  from  thee,  who  dravest  Me." l 

2.  The  conversion  which  seems  sudden,  and  which  is  indeed 
consummated  by  an  instantaneous  act  of  the  will,  is  never 
without  its  antecedent  and  preparatory  train  of  events.  It  is 
extremely  probable  that  iu  Matthew's  case,  as  in  Paul's,  there 
was  a  season  in  which  he  was  "kicking  against  the  goads." 
Every  time  he  saw  Jesus  pass  his  toll-booth,  his  heart  felt  a  pang. 
Every  time  he  stood  on  the  edge  of  a  crowd,  listening  to  that 
thrilling  and  soul-awakening  voice,  he  was  conscious  of  a  growing 
hatred  of  the  life  to  which  he  was  bound  by  interest  and  habit. 
Every  time  he  heard  the  solemn  call  to  repentance,  he  despised 
himself  as  a  man  lost  to  faith  and  honour.  Until  Jesus  had 
come  into  his  life,  he  had  had  the  comfortable  feeling  that  he  was 
getting  rich,  that  he  was  increased  in  goods  and  would  soon  have 
need  of  nothing ;  but  now  he  knew  that  he  was  poor  and 
miserable  and  blind  and  naked.  For  now  he  knew  that  a  man's 
life  does  not  consist  in  the  abundance  of  the  things  which  he 

1  John  Kclman,  Among  Famous  Looks,  302. 


MATTHEW  215 

possesses.  Now  that  he  began  to  look  at  life  through  Christ's 
eyes,  he  saw  what  a  glorious  thing  it  might  be  made,  and  what 
an  inglorious  thing  he  was  making  it.  And  his  discontent  with 
himself  made  him  the  most  unhappy  of  men.  Such  a  state  of 
things  could  not  last,  and  it  was  well  for  him  that  the  kind  but 
searching  eyes  of  Jesus  saw  what  was  going  on  in  the  depths  of 
his  soul.  And  that  was  the  gladdest  day  in  his  life  when  Jesus, 
once  more  passing  the  place  of  custom,  where  he  was  miserably 
and  mechanically  gathering  in  the  taxes,  said  to  him  in  a  voice  of 
irresistible  authority,  "  Follow  me."  And  without  a  moment's 
hesitation,  Matthew  arose,  left  all,  and  followed  Him.  In  doing 
so  he  began  the  new  life.  He  came  to  himself.  Stepping  out  of 
his  toll-booth  he  stepped  out  of  bondage  into  liberty  and  peace 
and  joy. 

U  While  I  was  making  myself  acquainted  with  the  work  of 
the  West  London  Mission  I  came  across  a  man  so  much  out  of 
the  common,  and  with  so  original  a  view  of  the  religious  life,  that 
I  turned  aside  from  my  researches  to  cultivate  his  sympathy  and 
learn  his  story.  ...  On  the  subject  of  conversion  he  had  his  own 
particular  view.  The  narratives  in  Professor  James's  wonderful 
book  moved  him  to  no  admiration.  "  The  best  model  for  a  story 
of  conversion,"  he  said,  "  is  to  be  found  in  Matthew,  nine,  nine — 
He  saith  unto  him,  Follow  Me.  And  he  arose,  and  followed 
Him."  i 

TJ  "  If  we  had  to  choose  one  out  of  all  the  books  in  the  Bible 
for  a  prison  or  desert  friend  the  Gospel  according  to  St.  Matthew 
would  be  the  one  we  should  keep."  So  remarks  Puiskin  in 
speaking  of  Carpaccio's  picture  of  the  calling  of  Matthew ;  and 
tfie  great  art  critic  adds,  "  We  do  not  enough  think  how  much  the 
leaving  the  receipt  of  custom  meant  as  a  sign  of  the  man's  nature 
who  was  to  leave  us  such  a  notable  piece  of  literature.  .  .  . 
Matthew's  call  from  receipt  of  custom,  Carpaccio  takes  for  the 
symbol  of  the  universal  call  to  leave  all  that  we  have,  and  are 
doing.  '  Whosoever  forsaketh  not  all  that  he  hath,  cannot  be  my 
disciple.'  For  the  other  wills  were  easily  obeyed  in  comparison  of 
this.  To  leave  one's  often  empty  nets  and  nightly  toil  on  sea,  and 
become  fishers  of  men,  probably  you  might  find  pescatori  enough 
on  the  Riva  there,  within  a  hundred  paces  of  you,  who  would  take 
the  chance  at  once,  if  any  gentle  person  ottered  it  them.  James 
and  Judo — Christ's  cousins — no  thanks  to  them  for  following 
Him;  their  own  home  conceivably  no  richer  than  His.  Thomas 
1  Harold  Begbie,  In  the.  Hand  nf  thf  rotter,  207. 


2i6  MATTHEW 

and  Philip,  I  suppose,  somewhat  thoughtful  persons  on  spiritual 
matters,  questioning  of  them  long  since  ;  going  out  to  hear  St. 
John  preach,  and  to  see  whom  he  had  seen.  But  this  man,  busy 
in  the  place  of  business — engaged  in  the  interests  of  foreign 
governments  —  thinking  no  more  of  an  Israelite  Messiah  than 
Mr.  Goschen,  but  only  of  Egyptian  finance,  and  the  like  " — [at  the 
time  Kuskin  wrote,  Mr.  (afterwards  Lord)  Goschen  had  gone  to 
Cairo  to  reorganize  the  public  debt  of  Egypt] — "suddenly  the 
Messiah,  passing  by,  says,  'Follow  me!'  and  he  rises  up,  gives 
Him  his  hand.  '  Yea  !  to  the  death  ; '  and  absconds  from  his  desk 
in  that  electric  manner  on  the  instant,  leaving  his  cash-box 
unlocked,  and  his  books  for  whoso  list  to  balance ' — a  very 
remarkable  kind  of  person  indeed,  it  seems  to  me." 1 

So  Matthew  left  his  golden  gains, 

At  the  great  Master's  call ; 
His  soul  the  love  of  Christ  constrains 

Freely  to  give  up  all. 

The  tide  of  life  was  at  its  flow, 

Eose  higher  day  by  day ; 
But  he  a  higher  life  would  know 

Than  that  which  round  him  lay. 

Nor  Fortune,  bright  with  fav'ring  smile, 

Can  tempt  him  with  her  store; 
Too  long  she  did  his  heart  beguile, 

He  will  be  hers  no  more. 

To  one  sweet  Voice  his  soul  doth  list, 

And,  at  its  "Follow  Me," 
Apostle,  and  Evangelist 

Henceforth  for  Christ  is  he. 

0  Saviour !   when  prosperity 
Makes  this  world  hard  to  leave, 

And  all  its  pomps  and  vanity 
Their  meshes  round  us  weave : 

Oh  grant  us  grace  that  to  Thy  call 

We  may  obedient  be ; 
And,  cheerfully  forsaking  all, 

May  follow  only  Thee.2 

1  Ruskin,  St.  Mark's  Rest,  §  173  (  Works,  xxiv.  344). 
1  J.  S.  B.  Monsell. 


MATTHEW  217 

3.  Forthwith  Jesus  made  Matthew  the  publican  one  of  His 
disciples.  In  doing  so  He  set  every  consideration  of  worldly 
prudence  at  defiance.  He  outraged  public  opinion,  and  earned 
for  Himself  the  scornful  title,  "a  friend  of  publicans  and  sinners." 
But  no  title  ever  bestowed  on  Him  on  earth  or  in  heaven,  by 
adoring  saints  and  angels,  proclaiming  His  eternal  power  and 
honour  and  g\ory.  ever  gave  Him  greater  joy  than  that  name 
which  was  first  thing  at  Him  in  mockery,  by  jibing  and  jeering 
enemies.  For  that  name  told  exactly  what  He  was ;  it  indicated 
the  whole  end  and  aim  of  His  life  on  earth.  Of  Him  more  truly 
than  of  any  other  teacher  it  might  have  been  said,  "  He  was  a 
man,  and  nothing  human  was  alien  to  Him."  He  knew  best 
what  was  in  man — fill  the  weakness  and  all  the  sin — yet  He  was 
the  greatest  of  all  optimists.  He  saw  infinite  possibilities  in 
those  whom  the  official  teachers  of  the  time — the  scribes  and  the 
Pharisees — had  given  up  in  despair.  And  He  was  able  to 
awaken  in  the  publicans  and  sinners  a  twofold  faith — faith  in 
Himself  as  the  Saviour  arid  Friend  of  mankind,  the  Physician  of 
all  sick  souls,  and  faith  in  themselves,  which  they  needed  no  less. 
And  to  the  end  of  their  lives  they  never  for  a  moment  imagined 
that  what  was  high  and  pure  and  good  in  them  had  come  there 
through  their  own  efforts  or  achievements;  they  knew  that  it  had 
all  come  through  the  love  of  God  revealed  to  them  in  the  friend 
ship  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth.  Among  them  was  Matthew  the 
publican,  drawn  by  the  love  of  Christ  into  the  Kingdom  of  God. 
And  it  was  because  he  wished  to  make  his  own  conversion  an 
object-lesson  which  might  help  to  convince  his  readers  of  the 
freeness  and  richness  of  Divine  grace,  and  so  assure  the  most 
doubting  and  despairing  of  a  welcome  into  the  same  Kingdom, 
that  he  persisted  in  calling  himself,  even  after  many  years  of 
Christian  apostleship,  "Matthew  the  publican." 

TI  "  I  have  loved  thee  with  an  everlasting  love,  therefore  with 
lovingkindness  have  I  drawn  thee."  After  long  conscientious 
serving  of  God,  refreshed  by  little  feeling  of  joy  or  comfort,  there 
are  moments  when  the  soul  seems  suddenly  made  aware  of  its 
own  happiness.  .  .  .  Such  moments  are  surely  more  to  us  than  a 
passing  comfort.  Do  they  not  teach  us  something  of  the  depth  of 
those  words,  "  We  love  him  because  he  first  loved  us  "  ?  For  is 
not  this  also  of  the  Lord — this  tender  attraction,  this  warmth,  at 
which  the  frozen  waters  of  the  heart  break  up  and  flow  forth  as 


218  MATTHEW 

at  the  breath  of  spring  ?  And  does  not  this  seeking  of  our  love 
on  Christ's  part  convince  us  that  He  is  ever  loving  us  in  our 
colder  as  well  as  more  fervent  seasons,  and  that  in  being  drawn 
by  His  lovingkindness  we  have  laid  hold  on  His  everlasting  love 
— a  chain  which  runs  backwards  and  forwards  through  all 
eternity  ? l 

III. 

MATTHEW  THE  EVANGELIST. 

1.  It  is  St.  Luke  who  informs  us  that  before  Matthew  became 
a  disciple  of  Jesus  he  was  known  as  Levi,  the  son  of  Alphseus. 
We  may  perhaps  infer  that  he  was  a  brother  of  James,  the  son  of 
Alphaeus  (Acts  i.  13).  "  Matthew,"  which  means  "  the  gift  of 
God,"  corresponding  to  the  Greek  "  Theodore  "  (fern.  "  Dorothea  "), 
was  probably  the  surname  which  he  assumed  or  received  when  he 
became  a  Christian.  And  in  the  Third  Gospel  we  learn  that  Levi, 
after  forsaking  all,  and  rising  up  and  following  Christ,  "  made  him 
a  great  feast  in  his  house :  and  there  was  a  great  multitude  of 
publicans  and  of  others  that  were  sitting  at  meat  with  them." 

Being  no  ascetic  like  John  the  Baptist,  Jesus  was  often  seen 
at  feasts,  and  no  banquet  which  He  ever  attended — not  even  the 
marriage  feast  at  Cana  of  Galilee — gave  Him  greater  happiness 
than  the  festal  gathering  in  the  house  of  Levi.  That  feast  had  a 
profound  significance  for  Levi  himself,  and  the  day  on  which  it 
took  place  must  have  been  ever  afterwards  the  red-letter  day  in 
his  calendar.  For  not  only  was  the  feast  of  Levi,  now  to  be  called 
Matthew,  the  instinctive  offering  of  a  glad  and  grateful  heart,  but 
it  gave  him  the  opportunity  of  telling  his  own  companions — 
publicans  and  "  others,"  as  Luke  says  with  characteristic  reticence 
—that  he  had  broken  with  his  past,  renouncing  for  ever  a  life  in 
which  he  could  not  be  true  to  God  and  his  conscience.  And  best 
of  all,  it  enabled  him  to  gather  for  Jesus  just  such  an  audience 
as  He  loved  to  have  around  Him. 

In  rendering  such  a   service  to   Christ,  Matthew  was  only 

obeying,  with  a  fine  originality,  the  impulse  which  every  new 

convert  to  Christianity   immediately  and   inevitably   feels — the 

impulse  of  evangelism.     No  one  ever  believed  in  the  glad  tidings 

1  Dora  Greenwell,  The  Patience  of  Hope,  120. 


MATTHEW  219 

of  the  gospel — in  the  forgiveness  ottered  to  all  sinners  who  repent 
of  their  sin  and  resolve  to  live  a  new  life — without  at  once  desir 
ing  the  same  tidings  to  be  proclaimed  to  all  the  world.  Nothing 
creates  altruists — men  and  women  who  "  live  no  longer  unto 
themselves  " — like  an  experience  of  Divine  love  in  Jesus  Christ. 
Matthew,  till  lately  so  hard  and  unmerciful,  now  felt  his  heart 
overflowing  with  pity  and  compassion.  He  knew  well  that  many 
a  publican  of  Galilee  was  just  as  unhappy  as  he  had  been,  and 
would  be  just  as  happy  to  have  done  for  ever  with  that  shameful 
and  degrading  business. 

1J  There  was  more  than  universalism  latent  in  the  mission  of 
Christ  to  the  publicans.  It  was  the  cradle  of  Christian  civiliza 
tion,  which  has  for  its  goal  a  humanized  society  from  whose  rights 
and  privileges  no  class  shall  be  hopelessly  and  finally  excluded. 
It  was  a  protest  in  the  name  of  God,  who  made  of  one  blood  all 
the  nations  and  classes,  against  all  artificial  or  superficial  cleavages 
of  race,  colour,  descent,  occupation,  or  even  of  character,  as  of 
small  account  in  comparison  with  that  which  is  common  to  all — 
the  human  soul,  with  its  grand,  solemn  possibilities.  It  was  an 
appeal  to  the  conscience  of  the  world  to  put  an  end  to  barbarous 
alienations  and  heartless  neglects,  and  social  ostracisms,  cruelties, 
and  tyrannies;  so  making  way  for  a  brotherhood  in  which 
"  sinners,"  "  publicans,"  and  "  Pharisees "  should  recognize  one 
another  as  fellow-men  and  as  sons  of  the  one  Father  in  heaven.1 

2.  Whether  Matthew  himself  gave  his  old  companions  what 
would  now  be  called  his  "  testimony  "  is  not  told.  It  was  strange 
if  he  did  not.  For  when  the  heart  is  full  the  lips  become  eloquent, 
and  even  if  a  convert  does  not  possess  the  distinctive  gifts,  he  at 
any  rate  has  the  spirit,  of  an  evangelist.  He  can  no  longer  be 
dumb ;  he  regards  silence  as  a  sin ;  he  is  impelled  to  say  to  all 
with  whom  he  comes  in  contact,  "  Come  and  hear,  and  I  will 
declare  what  God  hath  done  to  my  soul."  The  oral  invitation  to 
Matthew's  feast,  which  was  at  once  his  farewell  to  the  old  life 
and  his  welcome  of  the  new,  probably  included  an  intimation  that 
he  wished  his  old  comrades  and  friends  to  meet  and  to  hear 
Jesus  the  prophet  of  Nazareth.  And  "  a  great  multitude  "  came 
so  that  the  court  of  his  villa  by  the  Galilaean  lake  was  full  of 
"  publicans  and  others."  And  it  was  with  the  memory  of  such  a 
day  and  such  an  audience  that  Jesus  afterwards  said  to  the  chief 
1  A.  D.  Bruce,  With  Ojvn  Face,  119. 


220  MATTHEW 

priests  and  elders  of  the  Jews,  "  Verily  I  say  unto  you,  that  the 
publicans  and  the  harlots  go  into  the  kingdom  of  God  before  you." 
Matthew  did  not  call  his  friends  merely  that  he  and  they  might 
once  more  feast  together.  He  invited  them  with  the  secret  hope 
and  prayer  that  after  eating  his  bread  and  drinking  his  wine  they 
might  find  spiritual  food  in  the  words  of  grace  which  would,  he 
was  sure,  fall  from  the  lips  of  Jesus.  He  wanted  to  give  them 
something  far  better  than  the  feast  of  reason  and  the  flow  of  soul. 
He  wished  to  receive,  as  he  had  received,  the  bread  of  life,  whereof 
if  a  man  eat  he  shall  never  hunger.  And  it  is  more  than  probable 
that  both  Matthew  and  his  chief  Guest  were  satisfied  with  the 
work  done  that  day  for  eternity  in  the  court  of  his  house.  And, 
having  left  all,  he  felt  that  he  had  already  received  his  hundred 
fold.  His  cup  was  running  over. 

U  The  hostility  [of  the  Jews  to  Jesus]  recorded  in  the  Gospels 
arose  in  connection  with  the  class  of  persons  to  whom  He  made 
the  offer  of  entry  into  the  Kingdom,  and  the  practical  interpreta 
tion  which  He  gave  to  repentance  as  the  necessary  condition  for 
this  entry.  So  far  as  the  Scribes  were  concerned,  the  teaching  of 
Jesus  as  to  the  class  of  persons  who  could  be  admitted  to  the 
Kingdom  was  wholly  unacceptable.  In  their  eyes  this  was  the 
especial  privilege  of  the  righteous  and  pious  in  Israel ;  but  Jesus 
announced  that  He  had  come  to  call  sinners.  In  the  later  forms 
of  the  text  this  is  softened  by  changing  the  phrase  to  "call 
sinners  to  repentance."  In  one  sense,  no  doubt,  this  change  is 
justified:  Jesus  did  not  tell  sinners  to  continue  sinning,  and 
nevertheless  offer  them  entry  into  the  Kingdom.  But  it  obscures 
the  full  importance  of  the  message.  The  Scribes  did  not  seriously 
consider  the  possibility  that  a  "  Publican  "  or  a  "  Sinner  " — that  is 
to  say,  anyone  who  did  not  observe  all  the  obligations  of  the 
Scribes'  interpretation  of  the  Law — would  be  admitted  to  the 
Kingdom,  nor  did  they  take  any  special  pains  to  convert  these 
despised  elements  among  the  people.  Jesus,  on  the  other  hand, 
regarded  Himself  as  having  a  special  mission  to  those  classes,  and 
offered  to  those  who  would  follow  Him  in  His  mission  of  preach 
ing  and  preparation  the  certainty  of  entry  into  the  Kingdom.1 

3.  The  multitude  whom  he  entertained,  and  whom  Jesus 
addressed,  were  regarded  as  outcasts,  but  they  were  outcasts  of  a 
peculiar  type. 

The  outcast  with  us  usually  means  someone  who  has  impover- 

1  Kirsopp  Lake,  The  Stewardship  of  Faith,  27. 


MATTHEW  221 

ished,  and  demoralized,  and  debauched  himself  with  indolence  and 
with  vice  till  he  is  both  penniless  in  purse  and  reprobate  in 
character.  We  have  few,  if  any,  rich  outcasts  in  our  city  and 
society.  But  the  outcast  publicans  at  that  feast  were  well-to-do, 
if  not  absolutely  wealthy,  men.  They  were  men  who  had  made 
themselves  rich,  and  had  at  the  same  time  made  themselves  out 
casts,  by  siding  with  the  oppressors  of  their  people  and  by  exact 
ing  of  the  people  more  than  was  their  due.  And  they  were,  as  a 
consequence,  excommunicated  from  the  Church,  and  ostracized 
from  all  patriotic  and  social  and  family  life.  What,  then,  must 
the  more  thoughtful  of  them  have  felt  as  they  entered  Matthew's 
supper-room  that  night  and  sat  down  at  the  same  table  with  a 
very  prophet,  and  some  said — Matthew  himself  had  said  it  in  his 
letter  of  invitation — more  than  a  prophet  ?  And,  then,  all  through 
the  supper,  if  He  was  a  prophet  He  was  so  unlike  a  prophet ; 
and,  especially,  so  unlike  the  last  of  the  prophets.  He  was  so 
affable,  so  humble,  so  kind,  so  gentle,  with  absolutely  nothing  at 
all  in  His  words  or  in  His  manner  to  upbraid  any  of  them,  or  in 
any  way  to  make  any  of  them  in  anything  uneasy. 

If  Jesus  saw  how  hard  it  was  for  such  men  to  enter  the 
Kingdom  of  Heaven,  He  did  not  despair  of  them.  It  was  in 
reference  to  the  special  difficulty  of  saving  the  rich  that  He  said, 
"With  men  this  is  impossible;  but  with  God  all  things  are 
possible." 

U  With  some  the  love  of  accumulation  has  a  strange  power  of 
materializing,  narrowing,  and  hardening.  Habits  of  meanness — 
sometimes  taking  curious  and  inconsistent  forms,  and  applying 
only  to  particular  things  or  departments  of  life — steal  insensibly 
over  them,  and  the  love  of  money  assumes  something  of  the 
character  of  mania.  Temptations  connected  with  money  are 
indeed  among  the  most  insidious  and  among  the  most  powerful 
to  which  we  are  exposed.  They  have  probably  a  wider  empire 
than  drink,  and,  unlike  the  temptations  that  spring  from  animal 
passion,  they  strengthen  rather  than  dimmish  with  age.  In  no 
respect  is  it  more  necessary  for  a  man  to  keep  watch  over  his 
own  character,  taking  care  that  the  unselfish  element  does  not 
diminish  and  correcting  the  love  of  acquisition  by  generosity  of 
expenditure.1 

1  W.  K.  H.  Lerky,  Tke  Afup  of  Life,  287. 


222  MATTHEW 

IV. 

MATTHEW  THE  WRITER. 

Dr.  Whyte  says  finely  that  "  when  Matthew  rose  up  and  left 
all  and  followed  the  Lord,  the  only  things  he  took  with  him  out 
of  his  old  occupation  were  his  pen  and  ink.  And  it  is  well  for  us 
that  he  took  that  pen  and  that  ink  with  him,  since  he  took  it 
with  him  to  such  good  purpose."  Early  in  the  second  century, 
Papias  of  Hierapolis  wrote  regarding  the  first  of  the  four 
Evangelists :  "  Matthew  put  together  and  wrote  down  the  Divine 
utterances  (rot.  \6yiot)  in  the  Hebrew  (Aramaic)  language,  and  each 
man  interpreted  them  as  he  was  able."  From  the  Aramaic  these 
priceless  sayings  are  translated  into  New  Testament  Greek,  and 
from  the  Greek  they  have  been,  or  they  are  being,  translated  into 
all  the  languages  of  the  earth.  And  the  words  which  Christ 
spoke  and  Matthew  recorded  differ  from  all  other  words  ever 
spoken  or  written,  in  that  they  are  spirit  and  they  are  life. 
Tennyson  says  of  the  words  of  certain  would-be  comforters  thai 
they  were  "  vacant  chaff  well  meant  for  grain,"  and  that  figure  of 
speech  might  well  have  been  applied  to  the  teaching  of  the  Eabbis 
in  the  beginning  of  our  era.  But  the  words  of  Christ  were  and 
are  the  bread  of  life.  They  are  worth  more  than  all  the  facts  of 
science  and  speculations  of  philosophy  put  together.  To  receive 
them  and  to  believe  them  is  to  have  an  education  such  as  is 
provided  in  no  school  or  college  or  university  of  secular  learning, 
for  it  makes  men  wise  unto  salvation.  It  was  Matthew's  supreme 
merit  that  he  recognized  the  importance  of  the  written  word. 
What  he  heard  he  committed  to  rolls  or  tablets  which  were  his 
priceless  legacy  to  the  Apostolic  Church  and  to  all  the  Churches 
of  all  ages.  Litera  scripta  manet — the  written  word  abides. 

After  the  record  of  his  feast  Matthew  disappears  from  history ; 
he  is  heard  of  no  more  in  the  New  Testament.  But  in  virtue  of 
the  Gospel  which  he  was  inspired  to  write,  he  is  to-day  one  of  the 
chief  benefactors  of  the  human  race. 

T|  Oh  thou  who  art  able  to  write  a  book,  which  once  in  the 
two  centuries  or  oftener  there  is  a  man  gifted  to  do,  envy  not  him 
whom  they  name  city-builder,  and  inexpressibly  pity  him  whom 
they  name  conqueror  or  city-burner  1  Thou,  too,  art  a  conqueror 


MATTHEW  223 

and  victor  ;  but  of  the  true  sort,  namely,  over  the  Devil.  Thou,  too, 
hast  built  what  will  outlast  all  marble  and  metal,  and  be  a 
wonder-bringing  city  of  the  mind,  a  temple  and  cemetery  and 
prophetic  mount,  whereto  all  kindreds  of  the  earth  will  pilgrim.1 

U  Traditions  clash  and  contradict  each  other  in  relating  to  us 
the  career  of  St.  Matthew  subsequent  to  the  point  at  which  Holy 
Writ  leaves  him.  The  year  in  which  he  wrote  his  Gospel  is  held 
to  tally  with  that  of  the  Apostolic  Evangelist's  departure  from 
Jerusalem  to  a  wider  h'eld  of  missionary  enterprise ;  thus,  on 
quitting  his  Jewish  flock,  he  bequeathed  to  them  in  lieu  of  his 
actual  presence  the  written  Word  of  God.  Like  so  many  points 
of  his  life  his  death  remains  unascertained.  One  ancient  authority 
is  quoted  in  favour  of  his  having  died  a  natural  death,  and  the 
antiquity  of  such  a  view  lends  it  weight.  A  contrary  tradition, 
widely  adopted  both  by  early  and  later  writers,  shows  us  our 
Saint  invested  with  the  crown  and  palm-branch  of  martyrdom. 
In  preparation  for  so  glorious  an  end  we  mark  him  toiling  to  save 
the  lost  in  Persia,  Parthia,  and  other  places;  and  in  barbarous 
regions  making  converts  among  the  actual  Anthropophagi. 
Persia,  or  Parthia,  or  Caramania  then  held  in  subjection  by  the 
latter  country,  is  fixed  upon  as  the  scene  of  his  violent  death ; 
which  some,  again,  assign  to  Ethiopia.  Nor  are  legends 
unanimous  as  to  the  mode  of  his  martyrdom.  One  avers  that  he 
was  beheaded  in  requital  for  having  warned  Hyrtacus,  King  of 
Ethiopia,  against  contracting  an  unlawful  marriage ;  others  relate 
that  he  died  by  tire ;  or  that  a  fire  kindled  around  him  being  first 
extinguished  by  his  prayers,  he  gave  up  the  ghost  in  peace.2 

1  Cwlyle.  •  Christina  G.  Rossetti,  Called  to  fco  Saints,  381. 


NATHANAEL 


MARY-SIMON — 15 


LITERATURE. 

Bain,  J.  A.,  Questions  Answered  by  Christ  (1908),  127. 

Brent,  C.  H.,  The  Consolations  of  the  Cross  (1904),  81. 

Carpenter,  W.  B.,  The  Son  of  Man  among  the  Sons  of  Men  (1893),  105. 

Cox,  S.,  Biblical  Expositions  (1884),  204. 

Davies,  J.  A.,  Seven  Words  of  Love  (1895),  98. 

Edwards,  F.,  These  Twelve  (1895),  25. 

Greenhougb,  J.  G.,  The  Apostles  of  Our  Lord  (1904),  74. 

Hull,  E.  L.,  Sermons  Preached  at  King's  Lynn,  ii.  (1869)  167. 

Huntington,  F.    D.,  Christ  in   the  Christian  Year  :   Trinity   to  Advent 

(1882),  196. 
Jones,  J.  D.,  The  Glorious  Company  of  the  Apostles  (1904),  130. 

„          „      Tlie  Hope  of  the  Gospel  (1911),  139. 
Jowett,  J.  H.,  The  Silver  Lining  (1907),  1. 

Knight,  G.  H.,  The  Master's  Questions  to  His  Disciples  (1903),  101. 
Liddon,  H.    P.,  Sermons   Preached    before   tJie    University   of  Oxford,  ii. 

(1879)  1. 

Lilley,  J.  P.,  Four  Apostles  (1912),  51. 
Lovell,  R.  H.,  First  Types  of  the  Christian  Life  (1895),  70. 
Lucas,  B.,  Conversations  with  Christ  (1905),  1. 
McDougall,  J.,  The  Ascension  of  Christ  (1884),  171. 
Maclaren,  A.,  A  Year's  Ministry,  ii.  (1888)  169. 

Matheson,  G.,  The  Representative  Men  of  the  New  Testament  (1905),  71. 
Newman,  J.  H.,  Parochial  and  Plain  Sermons,  ii.  (1868)  333. 
Parker,  J.,  City  Temple  Pulpit,  iii.  (1900)  252. 
Rattenbury,  J.  E.,  The  Twelve  (1914),  175. 
Rix,  H.,  Sermons,  Addresses  and  Essays  (1907),  40. 
Rowland,   A.,   in   Men   of  the  New   Testament  :    Matthew    to   Timothy 

(1905),  95. 

Skriue,  J.  H.,  Saint*  and  Worthies  (1901),  52. 
Thorn,  J.  H.,  Laws  of  Life  after  the  Mind  of  Christ,  i.  (1901)  43. 
Trench,  R.  C.,  Studies  in  the  Gospels  (1867),  66. 
Wilberforce,  A.  B.,  The  Trinity  of  Evil  (1888),  3. 
Woodhouse,  F.  C.,  The  Life  of  the  Soul  in  the  World  (1914),  131. 
Expositor,  5th  Ser.,  viii.  (1898)  336  (W.  D.  Ridley). 
Expository  Times,  xiii.  (1902)  432  (E.  Nestle). 
Journal  of  Biblical  Literature,  xvii.  (1898)  21  (11.  Rhees). 


NATHANAEL. 

Behold,  an  Israelite  indeed,  in  whom  is  no  guile!— John  i.  47. 

WHAT  story  in  the  New  Testament  has  a  more  modern  character 
than  the  story  of  how  Nathanael  came  to  believe  ?  Ours  is  an 
age  much  given  to  psychology,  the  study  of  the  facts  of  the  human 
mind,  how  it  does  its  thinking ;  and  how  fascinating  a  problem  is 
here  for  a  psychologist ! 

The  name  of  Nathanael  occurs  in  two  separate  parts  of  John's 
Gospel,  but  it  does  not  occur  at  all  in  the  other  Gospels.  He  is 
introduced  to  us  at  the  beginning  and  at  the  close  of  our  Lord's 
ministry.  We  may  reject  as  improbable  the  tradition  that  he 
was  the  bridegroom  at  the  marriage  in  Cana  of  Galilee,  as  well  as 
the  other  one,  that  he  was  one  of  the  two  disciples  who  journeyed 
towards  Emmaus.  All  that  we  know  positively  about  him  is 
found  in  these  two  references  to  him  by  John.  The  question 
naturally  arises,  Was  he  an  Apostle  ?  He  had  the  highest  praise 
given  him  by  the  Lord  ;  did  it  end  there  ?  Against  that  idea  is 
the  fact  that  the  earliest  of  our  Lord's  disciples  became  Apostles, 
and  that  in  the  second  reference  to  him  he  is  found  in  company 
with  those  who  are  known  to  have  been  Apostles.  The  question, 
however,  is  a  legitimate  one :  How  is  it,  if  Nathanael  was  an 
Apostle,  that  his  name  does  not  occur  either  in  the  Gospels  or  in 
the  Acts,  where  the  Apostles  are  enumerated  ?  The  explanation 
may  be  that  he  bore  a  double  name,  and  that  he  is  referred  to  in 
them  as  Bartholomew. 

The  identifying  of  the  two,  which,  when  once  suggested, 
carries  so  much  probability  with  it,  and  which  in  modern  times 
has  found  favour  with  so  many,  was  quite  unknown  to  the  Early 
Church.  Indeed  Augustine  more  than  once  enters  at  large  into 
the  question,  why  Nathanael,  to  whom  his  Lord  bore  such 
honourable  testimony,  whom  He  welcomed  so  gladly,  was  not 
elected  into  the  number  of  the  Twelve.  The  reason  he  gives  is 


228  NATHANAEL 

curious.  He  sees  evidence  in  Nathanael's  question,  "  Can  any 
good  thing  come  out  of  Nazareth  ? "  that  this  disciple  was  a  Rabbi, 
learned  in  the  wisdom  of  the  Jewish  schools  (that  he  should  be 
numbered  among  fishermen  [John  xxi.  2]  makes  this  unlikely,  yet 
not  impossible) ;  and  such  the  Lord  would  in  no  case  choose  to 
lay  the  foundations  of  His  Church  (cf.  1  Cor.  i.  26),  lest  that 
Church  might  even  seem  to  stand  in  the  wisdom  of  man  rather 
than  in  the  power  of  God.  The  arguments  for  the  identity  of  the 
two,  which  identity  was  first  suggested  by  Rupert  of  Deutz  in  the 
twelfth  century,  are  very  strong.  They  are  mainly  these :  that 
Nathanael's  vocation  here  is  co-ordinated  with  that  of  Apostles,  as 
of  equal  significance ;  that  on  a  later  occasion  we  meet  him  in  the 
midst  of  apostles,  some  named  before  him,  some  after  (chap.  xxi. 
1,  2) ;  that  the  three  earlier  Evangelists  never  mention  Nathanael, 
the  fourth  never  Bartholomew ;  that  Philip  and  Bartholomew  in 
the  catalogue  of  the  Apostles  are  grouped  together,  as  a  pair  of 
friends,  but  with  Philip  first,  even  as  he  is  here  the  earlier  in 
Christ  (Matt.  x.  30 ;  Mark  iii.  18) ;  that  the  custom  of  double 
names  seems  to  have  been  almost  universal  at  that  time  in 
Judaea,  so  that  all  or  well-nigh  all  the  Apostles  bore  more  than 
one ;  to  all  which  may  be  added  that  Bartholomew,  signifying 
"  son  of  Tolmai,"  is  of  itself  no  proper  name.  All  these  arguments 
in  favour  of  the  identity,  with  nothing  against  it,  bring  it  very 
nearly  to  a  certainty  that  he  to  whom  the  promise  of  the  vision 
of  an  opened  heaven,  with  angels  ascending  and  descending  on 
the  Son  of  man,  was  vouchsafed,  was  no  other  than  Bartholomew 
the  Apostle. 

^j  Christina  Rossetti  devotes  two  little  poems  in  "  Some  Feasts 
and  Fasts "  to  St.  Bartholomew.  The  shorter,  relating  to  his 
martyrdom,  is  as  follows : — 

He  bore  an  agony  whereof  the  name 

Hath  turned  his  fellows  pale: 
But  what  if  God  should  call  us  to  the  same, 

Should  call,  and  we  should  fail  ? 

Nor  earth  nor  sea  could  swallow  up  our  shame. 

Nor  darkness  draw  a  veil: 
For  he  endured  that  agony  whose  name 

Hath  made  his  fellows  quail.1 
1  Christina  G.  Rossetti,  Poetical  Works,  177, 


NATHANAEL  229 


NATHANAKL'S  CALL. 

1.  It  is  a  quiet  Syrian  scene  of  sunlight  falling  upon  the 
landscape,  and  of  soft  and  grateful  shadows  cast  by  the  broad- 
leaved  trees.  The  spot  is  on  the  western  side  of  the  Lake  of 
Tiberias,  and  not  far  from  the  city  of  Capernaum.  It  is,  in  fact, 
in  the  village  of  Bethsaida,  where  dwelt,  in  the  Saviour's  youth, 
Andrew  and  Peter,  fishermen  of  Galilee.  The  village  lay  on  the 
shore  of  the  little  inland  sea  on  which  they  plied  their  occupation 
as  fishermen.  The  name  itself  means  "  fishing-town,"  and  we  know 
that  it  must  have  been  the  frequent  resort  of  our  Lord  Plimself. 
Alas  that,  like  so  many  of  what  would  be  to  us  holy  places,  this 
tiny  fishing-town  has  disappeared !  Its  site  is  guessed  at,  but 
cannot  be  precisely  fixed.  All  that  people  now  living  in  the 
district  know  about  it  is  its  New  Testament  name.  Andrew  and 
Peter  were  certainly  fishermen ;  Philip  and  Nathanael  were  prob 
ably  so — these  four,  with  John,  making  the  five  disciples  hitherto 
secured  by  Jesus.  It  is  too  soon  to  depict  their  individual 
characters,  although  Simon  has  already  received  that  name  which 
has  given  rise  to  endless  debate  amongst  rival  ecclesiastical 
leaders,  and  the  Saviour  emphatically  calls  him  Simon  the  Stone, 
or  Simon  the  Kock,  and  declares  the  rock-foundation  of  His  Church 
in  giving  him  the  name  of  Peter. 

Going  forth  on  the  day  after  Peter's  designation,  Jesus  finds 
Philip,  and  calls  him.  Philip  at  once  responds.  These  simple- 
natured  fishermen,  like  all  the  truly  faithful  of  their  nation,  were 
at  this  time  full  of  an  indescribable  expectancy.  They  were 
looking  and  waiting  for  the  appearing  of  the  long-promised 
Messiah,  the  Great  Comer  who  should  deliver  Israel,  and  whose 
most  signal  and  convincing  proof  of  Divine  authority  would  be 
His  power  to  "  reveal  all  things."  We  may  understand,  therefore, 
how  ingenuous  and  pious  Jews  who  looked  for  the  immediate 
"redemption  of  Israel"  would  glow  with  spiritual  warmth  as  they 
came  under  the  influence  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth ;  and  we  cannot  be 
surprised  at  the  readiness  which  they  exhibited  to  obey  Him. 
There  is  also  great  naturalness  in  what  Philip  does.  Once  called 
:md  captured,  as  only  profound  conviction  can  capture  a  soul, 


230  NATHANAEL 

what  so  probable  as  that  he  should  desire  to  tell  the  new  and 
startling  fact  to  those  nearest  to  him  ?  Deep  emotion  is  demon 
strative.  The  man  possessed  with  a  really  Divine  emotion  will 
display  it. 

U  Dr.  Faton  felt  that  the  Christian  Endeavour  movement 
would  never  realize  its  potentialities  until  it  yoked  itself  to 
definite  service  and  acted  the  Christian  life  as  well  as  talked  about 
it.  In  the  course  of  an  address  to  the  Council  at  Portsmouth  on 
6th  February,  1908,  he  said  : 

"The  emotions  are  in  themselves  a  source  of  pleasure,  but 
they  also  incite  to  action  and  become  a  motive  power.  There  is, 
however,  a  moral  law  according  to  which  alone  they  can  be 
healthily  cultivated.  Bishop  Butler  has  enunciated  this  law.  If 
emotions  as  passive  impressions  are  freely  indulged,  they  become 
gradually  weaker  and  ebb  away:  or  they  may  be  continually 
stimulated  ;  but  in  that  case  they  always  need  a  stronger  stimulus, 
and  this  terrible  result  follows — that  they  become  inoperant,  and 
lose  their  power  to  incite  to  appropriate  action.  On  the  other 
hand,  if  these  emotions,  according  to  their  healthful  law,  lead  to 
action,  the  acts  which  they  induce  are  more  readily  done  by 
repetition.  They  then  form  habits,  and  habits  form  character, 
and  character  forms  destiny.  Now  this  great  law,  which  applies 
to  the  training  of  our  youth  in  the  adolescent  age,  bears  specially 
and  with  profound  significance  upon  the  Christian  life.  Emotions 
awakened  in  the  Christian  life  are  full  of  delight  and  blessing, 
but  if  they  are  indulged  selfishly,  without  leading,  as  they  are 
intended,  to  healthful  and  appropriate  action,  they  will  either  ebb 
away,  as  has  been  seen  so  sadly  in  the  great  Welsh  Revival,  or 
they  may  be  repeatedly  stimulated  until  they  become  morbid  and 
inoperant,  having  no  effect  upon  conduct  and  character.  Our 
Lord  gave  to  His  disciples  the  rapture  of  the  Mount  of  Trans 
figuration,  but  only  for  a  short  time.  They  had  soon  to  follow 
Him  to  the  bottom  of  the  Mount,  where  the  poor  epileptic  child 
sought  for  healing,  and  thence  to  follow  Him,  bearing  their  cross 
— in  training  for  service." 1 

2.  Philip  knows  of  one  who  will  gladly  hear  what  he  has  to 
tell.  It  is  Nathanael,  his  quiet,  thoughtful,  modest  friend,  who  is 
probably  stretched,  as  may  have  been  his  habit,  in  meditative 
mood,  beneath  the  shade  of  a  fig-tree.  And  there  indeed  he  is, 
pondering  the  crisis  of  his  nation's  history,  as  the  incidents  of  the 
time  float  up  in  rumours  more  or  less  correct  from  the  great  centre 

1  J.  Lewis  Paton,  John  Brown  PcUon,  425. 


NATHANAEL  231 

of  activity — Jerusalem.  To  him,  as  to  every  God-fearing  soul, 
there  is  one  subject  of  supreme  anxiety,  one  question  above  all 
others  to  be  solved — "  When  will  Israel  be  redeemed  by  Messiah  ? " 
The  restoration  of  Israel  to  its  proud  place  among  the  nations ; 
the  resurrection  of  the  Royal  House  of  David  from  obscurity  to 
greatness  and  pre-eminence ;  above  all,  the  supremacy  of  the  faith 
of  Israel,  wait  for  the  appearing  of  the  Great  Comer. 

Absorbed  in  deep  thought,  as  we  may  imagine  Nathanael  to 
have  been,  his  friend  Philip  suddenly  breaks  in  upon  him  with 
the  astounding  announcement — "We  have  found  him,  of  whom 
Moses  in  the  law,  and  the  prophets,  did  write,  Jesus  of  Nazareth, 
the  son  of  Joseph."  Nathanael's  reply  was  a  natural  one,  the 
reply  of  a  sincere  believer  in  Old  Testament  prophecy — "  Can  any 
good  thing  come  out  of  Nazareth  ? "  Something  of  contempt, 
perhaps,  for  a  not  very  reputable  little  city,  mingled  with  his 
astonishment  that  Nazareth,  of  which  nothing  had  been  pre 
dicted,  should  be  named  in  connexion  with  the  Hope  of  Israel. 
Philip  has  but  one  answer.  He  is  in  no  mood  to  talk  about 
Nazareth  or  to  discuss  its  demerits.  He  is  concerned  only  about  a 
Person,  who  has  strangely  impressed  him  with  His  Messianic 
character  and  claims,  and  a  sight  of  that  Person  will  be  the 
best  reply  to  Nathanael's  scepticism.  "  Come  and  see,"  exclaims 
Philip,  and  the  dreamer  in  the  shadow  rises  and  follows  his  friend. 

3.  Notice  two  striking  things :  Nathanael's  doubt  ("  Can  any 
good  thing  come  out  of  Nazareth  ? "),  and  Philip's  answer  ("  Come 
and  see  "). 

(1)  If  we  would  appreciate  Nathanael's  doubt,  we  must 
remember  that  all  the  Galilaeans  were  held  in  contempt  by  the 
Pharisees  of  Jerusalem,  and  that  not  altogether  without  cause. 
The  province  of  Galilee  was,  practically,  much  farther  from 
Jerusalem  than  the  Highlands  of  Scotland  are  from  London, 
although  not  half  or  quarter  so  many  miles  lay  between  the  two. 
And,  to  reach  the  metropolis,  the  Galilaeans  had  either  to  traverse 
the  alien  district  of  Samaria  or  to  risk  a  somewhat  perilous 
journey  across  the  highlands  and  valleys  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Jordan.  Hence  many  of  them  habitually  absented  themselves 
from  the  annual  services  and  feasts  of  the  Temple.  To  these 
every  Jew  was  bound,  by  the  law  of  Moses,  to  go  up  thrice  every 


232  NATHANAEL 

year.  Those  who  failed  to  "  present  themselves  before  the  Lord  " 
were  held  by  the  punctilious  Pharisees  and  scribes  to  be  little 
better  than  heathen. 

The  Galileans,  moreover,  engaged  in  commerce  with  their 
Gentile  neighbours,  and  especially  with  the  wealthy  merchants  of 
Tyre  and  Sidon.  Their  commercial  intercourse  with  heathen 
races  had  abated  the  edge  and  strictness  of  their  ceremonialism, 
and,  still  worse,  had  also  chilled  the  fervour  of  their  piety.  And 
here  was  another  reason  for  holding  them  in  contempt.  Even 
the  prophets  described  the  Galilaeans  as  a  "  people  that  sat  in 
darkness  " ;  and  the  Pharisees,  instead  of  carrying  them  "  a  great 
light,"  were  much  more  disposed  to  consign  them  to  "  Gehenna." 

But  besides  the  general  prejudice  against  Galilseans  which  for 
these  and  other  reasons  possessed  the  minds  of  the  Jews,  there 
may  have  been  and  probably  were  special  reasons  for  their  con 
tempt  of  Nazareth.  This  prejudice  lingered  long.  To  speak  of 
the  Christians  as  Nazarenes  was  to  hold  them  up  to  contempt. 
The  Talmudists  call  the  Lord  "  Hannozeri,"  or  "  Ben  Nezar."  The 
Arabs  call  the  Christians  "  En-Nusara  "  to  this  day. 

U  From  its  very  position,  Nazareth — the  precious  memories  of 
which  are  entwined  with  our  holiest  thoughts,  and  whose  name 
has  become  a  household  word  to  the  ends  of  the  earth — seems  to 
covet  obscurity  and  seclusion.  Unlike  Bethlehem  and  the  cities 
of  Judah  and  Benjamin,  perched  on  the  hill- tops  ;  unlike  Shechem, 
whose  gushing  fountains  and  perennial  streams  have  invited  the 
earliest  settlements  of  man,  the  site  of  Nazareth  (on  the  edge  of 
a  shallow  basin  in  the  low  hills  of  Galilee)  offers  no  natural 
advantages.  Among  the  many  smaller  ridges  which  crowd  round 
the  platform,  from  which  rises  the  mountain  chain  of  Lebanon, 
several  here  are  clustered,  forming  a  wide  natural  amphitheatre, 
the  crest  of  which  rises  round  the  basin  of  Nazareth,  as  though  to 
guard  it  from  intrusion :  "  enclosed  by  mountains  as  the  flower  is 
by  its  leaves."  The  town  clings  to  the  hillside,  on  a  steep  slope 
to  the  north-west  of  this  hollow,  unknown  and  unnamed  in  the 
Old  Testament, — a  place  that  had  no  history  till  He  came  who 
has  hallowed  and  immortalized  it.1 

(2)  Philip  met  Nathanael's  doubt  very  wisely.  He  did  not 
argue  with  him.  He  simply  answered,  "  Come  and  see."  Very 
likely  he  recognized  in  Nathanael  a  mood  with  which  he  himself 

1  H.  B.  Tristram,  Bible  Places,  291. 


NATHANAEL  233 

was  familiar :  for  Philip  also  seems  by  nature  to  have  been 
"slow  of  heart  to  believe."  He  had  had  his  doubts,  his  prejudices, 
his  fears ;  and  probably  he  and  his  neighbour,  Nathanael,  had 
often  sat  under  the  fig-tree  at  Cana,  talking  sadly,  and  a  little 
sceptically,  over  the  affairs  of  the  Jewish  Church  and  State. 
Only  in  the  light  of  one  Presence  had  his  prejudices  vanished ; 
only  by  the  sound  of  one  Voice  had  his  doubts  been  charmed  to 
rest.  If  he  could  bring  Nathanael  to  that  Presence,  and  within 
the  sound  of  that  Voice,  he  had  no  fear  of  the  result. 

Philip's  "  Come  and  see,"  which  is  all  the  reply  he  vouchsafes 
to  the  objection  of  his  friend,  is  manifestly  an  echo  of  Christ's 
"  Come  and  see"  of  the  day  preceding  (ver.  39).  That  immediate 
personal  intercourse  which  had  proved  so  effectual  in  the  case  of 
Andrew  and  another  shall  not  prove  less  effectual  in  the  case  of 
Xathanael.  It  was  a  wise  answer  then,  and  is  often  a  wise  answer 
now.  The  highest  heavenly  things  are  in  their  nature  incapable 
of  being  uttered  in  words,  and  "  Come  and  see,  come  and  make 
proof  of  them,"  is  sometimes  the  only  true  reply  to  difficulties 
about  them,  an  indication  of  the  only  effectual  way  by  which  those 
difficulties  shall  be  removed.  There  are  truths  in  the  heavenly 
world  which,  like  the  sun  in  the  natural  world,  can  be  seen  only 
by  their  own  light ;  which  in  no  other  way  will  be  seen  at  all. 

TI  Among  the  cases  of  conversion  recorded  by  Mr.  Robertson, 
when  working  in  the  Pilrig  district  of  Edinburgh,  is  one  of  a 
young  girl  who  was  induced  by  her  companion  to  "  come  and  see" 
for  herself: — 

Whilst  the  Saturday  morning  meetings  were  in  progress,  one 
girl,  Jeannie,  was  on  her  way  to  the  meeting,  when  she  met 
a  companion,  Lizzie  -  — ,  whom  she  invited  to  come  with  her. 
"  Gae  wa'  wi'  yer  meetin's ;  gaun  tae  a  meetin'  on  a  Saturday 
morning!  No,  I'm  gaun  tae  nane  o'  ytT  meetin's,"  was  the 
response,  and  she  then  commenced  to  call  her  names — hypocrite, 
Methodist,  and  such  like. 

Jeannie  went  quietly  on  to  the  meeting,  not  answering  a  word. 
On  the  following  Saturday  morning,  on  her  way  to  the  meeting, 
she  saw  the  same  girl  coming  down  the  lane.  There  was  no 
escape,  and  she  wondered  what  she  should  do.  Having  lifted  up 
her  heart  to  the  Lord,  praying  to  be  helped,  Jeannie  went  straight 
up  to  her  friend  and  greeted  her  with  these  words,  "  Oh,  Li/zie, 
will  ye  no  come  tae  the  meetin'  this  morn  in'  ?  " 

Lizzie  burst  into  tears  and  said,  "  Yes,  Jeannie,  I'll  gang  tae  the 


234  NATHANAEL 

meetin'.  Oh,  Jeannie,  if  ye  only  kent  what  a  week  I've  had. 
I  laughed  at  ye,  and  ca'ed  ye  names,  when  ye  wanted  me  tae  gang 
tae  the  meetin'  last  Saturday  mornin',  and  ye  never  said  a  word. 
Oh,  I've  been  sae  wicked.  I  wanted  tae  meet  ye  and  I  hoped  ye 
wad  ask  me.  I'll  gang  tae  the  meetin'." 

They  were  both  present  that  morning,  but  I  knew  nothing  of 
the  proceeding  till  Lizzie  and  another  girl  came  to  my  lodgings  in 
great  distress  of  soul.  They  both  wished  to  give  their  hearts  to 
Jesus.  The  last  accounts  we  have  heard  about  Jeannie  are  from 
America,  where  she  is  working  in  the  Salvation  Army.1 


II 

NATHANAEL'S  CHARACTER. 

"Jesus  saw  Nathanael  coming  to  him,  and  saith  of  him, 
Behold,  an  Israelite  indeed,  in  whom  is  no  guile ! "  The  precise 
form  of  the  Evangelist's  statement  is  to  be  carefully  noted.  He 
does  not  say  that  Jesus  addresses  these  words  to  Nathanael,  but 
only  that  He  spoke  them  in  his  presence,  so  as  to  be  overheard. 
In  truth,  Jesus  was  at  this  time  exercising  that  marvellous  power 
of  looking  into  the  past  history  and  experience  and  character  of 
men  which  the  Spirit  of  God  vouchsafed  to  Him  at  every  great 
crisis  in  His  career.  Never  did  He  need  it  more  than  when  He 
was  choosing  the  companions  of  His  ministry  and  the  agents  for 
the  propagation  of  His  gospel  all  over  the  world.  In  letting 
Nathanael  hear  these  words,  He  was  only  giving  that  earnest  soul 
the  encouragement  he  needed,  and  preparing  the  way  for  the 
closest  fellowship  with  Himself. 

1.  "  An  Israelite  indeed."  The  reference  is,  no  doubt,  to  the 
old  story  of  the  occasion  on  which  Jacob's  name  was  changed  to 
Israel.  Jacob  had  wrestled  with  God  in  that  mysterious  scene  by 
the  brook  Jabbok,  and  had  overcome,  and  had  received  instead  of 
the  name  Jacob,  "  a  supplanter,"  the  name  Israel,  "  for  as  a  prince 
hast  thou  power  with  God  and  with  men,  and  hast  prevailed." 
And  says  Christ :  This  man  also  is  a  son  of  Israel,  one  of  God's 
warriors,  who  has  prevailed  with  Him  by  prayer. 

1J  Ruskin's  fragmentary  and  hitherto  unpublished  "  Notes  on 

1  William  liobcrtson  of  Carrulber's  Close  Mission,  39. 


NATHANAEL  235 

the  Bible"  contain  the   following  references  to  the  earliest  re 
corded  words  of  our  Saviour : — 

"  Third  recorded  words  of  Christ  to  the  two  disciples,  to  Peter, 
and  to  Nathaniel  [John  i.  39,  42, 47].  To  the  disciples,  the  '  Come 
and  see '  as  well  as  the  command  to  Philip, '  Follow  me '  [John 
i.  43],  are  both  commands  of  acts :  addressed  to  persons  beginning 
to  seek  the  right ;  and  which  commands  by  obeying,  they  would 
gradually  find  leading  to  more  light.  Nathaniel  is  already  an 
'  Israelite  indeed,'  i.e.,  keeping  the  law  perfectly,  and  wholly 
upright,  and  then  a  miracle  is  vouchsafed  to  him,  that  he  may 
understand  that  Christ  is  indeed  his  Lord.  This  is  just  as  it 
seems  to  me  God  deals  with  all  His  people."  l 

2.  "In  whom  is  no  guile" — Jacob  in  early  life  had  been 
marked  and  marred  by  selfish  craft.  Subtlety  and  guile  had  been 
the  very  key-note  of  his  character.  To  drive  that  out  of  him 
years  of  discipline  and  pain  and  sorrow  had  been  needed.  And 
not  until  it  had  been  driven  out  of  him  could  his  name  be  changed 
from  Jacob  to  Israel.  This  man  has  had  the  guile  driven  out 
of  him.  By  what  process?  The  words  are  a  verbal  quotation 
from  Psalm  xxxii. :  "  Blessed  is  he  whose  transgression  is  for 
given,  whose  sin  is  covered.  Blessed  is  the  man  unto  whom  the 
Lord  imputeth  not  iniquity,  and  in  whose  spirit  there  is  no  guile." 
Clear,  candid  openness  of  spirit,  and  the  freedom  of  soul  from  all 
that  corruption  which  the  Psalmist  calls  "  guile,"  is  the  property 
of  him  only  who  has  received  it,  by  confession,  by  pardon,  and  by 
cleansing,  from  God.  Thus  Nathanael,  in  his  wrestling,  had  won 
the  great  gift.  His  transgression  had  been  forgiven  ;  his  iniquity 
had  been  covered  ;  to  him  God  had  not  imputed  his  sin ;  and  in 
his  spirit,  therefore,  there  was  no  guile. 

U  We  felt — we  could  not  but  feel — the  large,  unhampered 
guilelessness  in  Mr.  Gladstone  which,  in  spite  of  obvious 
subtleties  of  intellectual  dialectic  in  talk  and  discussion,  still 
made  itself  known  as  the  most  radical  and  elemental  character 
istic  of  the  man.  He  was  transparent  as  a  babe:  even  when  he 
was  most  acute  in  framing  puzzling  distinctions,  or  hurrying  us 
over  the  thinnest  possible  ice.  You  saw  the  man  flinging  himself 
into  his  case,  with  the  keen  abandonment  of  a  child  without 
reserves.  You  might  hear  endless  stories  of  the  versatilities  and 
elasticities  and  shifts  by  which  he  had  thrown  his  opponents  in 
the  public  arena  of  debate;  but  nothing  could  ever  shake  your 
1  Kuikiu,  Wurks%  xixiv.  680. 


236  NATHANAEL 

conviction  that  guilelessness  was  the  main  note  of  his  character. 
Deep  down  in  the  life  there  was  the  untouched  heart  of  a  little 
child.1 

"  The  childlike  faith,  that  asks  not  sight, 

Waits  not  for  wonder  or  for  sign, 
Believes,  because  it  loves,  aright — 
Shall  see  things  greater,  things  divine. 

"Heaven  to  that  gaze  shall  open  wide, 

And  brightest  Angels  to  and  fro 
On  messages  of  love  shall  glide 

'Twixt  God  above,  and  Christ  below." 

So  still  the  guileless  man  is  blest, 

To  him  all  crooked  paths  are  straight, 

Him  on  his  way  to  endless  rest 

Fresh,  ever-growing  strengths  await.2 

3.  In  Nathanael's  response  to  the  salutation  of  our  Lord  we 
have  a  fine  illustration  of  true,  as  distinguished  from  false, 
modesty.  Jesus  had  greeted  him,  with  wonder  and  delight,  as  a 
guileless  Jacob,  a  genuine  Israelite,  as  worthy  therefore  to  receive 
the  visions  and  gifts  vouchsafed  to  his  father  Israel.  And 
Nathanael  does  not  disclaim  the  honour ;  he  does  not  protest  that 
he  is  unworthy  of  it.  He  feels,  apparently,  that  the  Rabbi  of 
Nazareth  has  fairly  summed  up  his  spiritual  history,  that  He  has 
expressed  his  true  character  in  a  single  phrase.  And  he  does  not, 
as  surely  false  modesty  would  have  done,  pretend  to  put  away  the 
honour  from  him.  He  tacitly  admits  the  truth  of  Christ's  descrip 
tion.  The  only  thing  that  puzzles  him  is  how  a  stranger  should 
know  him  so  well.  "  Yes,  Thou  knowest  me  :  but  whence  knowest 
Thou  me  ? "  And  yet,  on  the  other  hand,  there  is  a  true  and 
unfeigned  modesty  in  this  response.  His  words  mean  "  Whence 
knowest  Thou  one  so  little  known,  so  inconspicuous,  so  obscure, 
as  I  am."  He  has  but  a  poor  opinion  of  himself.  He  is  conscious 
that  he  has  lived  a  quiet,  retired,  and  meditative  life,  that  he  has 
not  attracted  the  public  eye,  and  has  done  nothing  great  enough 
to  attract  it ;  and  it  perplexes  him  to  meet  with  One  who  seems 
to  know  him  altogether.  Moreover,  it  perhaps  irks  and  a  little 

1  H.  Soott  Holland,  Personal  Studies,  31. 

2  Keble,  The  Christian  Year  (St.  Bartholomew}. 


NATHANAEL  237 

frightens  him  to  find  his  inward  life  laid  bare,  to  stand  in  the 
presence  of  One  from  whom  nothing  seems  to  be  hid.  He  feels 
that  his  secret  has  been  read,  and  he  shrinks  back  with  a  touch  of 
fear  from  an  inspection  so  searching ;  not  because  he  has  anything 
to  hide,  for  he  is  without  guile,  but  because  it  is  as  terrible  to  him 
to  find  himself  utterly  known  by  One  whom  he  knows  not  as  it 
would  be  to  us.  One  can  fancy  his  recoiling  form,  and  catch  the 
tone  of  alarm  in  his  voice,  as  he  looks  on  the  Teacher  who  had 
read  his  every  heart,  and  cries,  "  Whence  knowest  thou  me  ?  " 

"What  word  is  this?     Whence  know'st  thou  me?" 
All  wondering  cries  the  humbled  heart, 

To  hear  Thee  that  deep  mystery, 
The  knowledge  of  itself,  impart. 

The  veil  is  raised  :  who  runs  may  read, 

By  its  own  light  the  truth  is  seen, 
And  soon  the  Israelite  indeed 

Bows  down  t'adore  the  Nazarene. 

So  did  Nathanael,  guileless  man, 

At  once,  not  shame-faced  or  afraid, 
Owning  Him  God,  who  so  could  scan 

His  musings  in  the  lonely  shade; 

In  his  own  pleasant  fig-tree's  shade, 
Which  by  his  household  fountain  grew, 

Where  at  noonday  his  prayer  he  made, 
To  know  God  better  than  he  knew.1 


III. 

NATIIANAEL'S  CONFESSION. 

1.  When  Nathanael  asked  in  surprise,  "Whence  knowest  thou 
me?"  Christ  answered,  "Before  Philip  called  thee,  when  thou 
wast  under  the  fig  tree,  I  saw  thee  " ;  not  the  words  only,  but  the 
voice  and  the  tones  of  love,  carried  their  message  to  Nathanael's 
soul.  The  meaning  is  clear  to  him.  The  message  carries  the 
authentication  and  claim  of  love.  His  prayers  and  desires  are 
known  and  understood.  He  had  thought  of  himself  us  alone. 
1  Keblf,  The  Christian  Year  (St.  Bartholomew). 


238  NATHANAEL 

struggling  in  prayer  and  surrounded  by  perplexity,  living  in  an 
age  when  God  seemed  far  off,  and  when  there  was  no  open  vision 
for  the  sons  of  men.  But,  lo !  there  has  been  One  near  at  hand 
who  has  known  and  understood.  Like  Jacob,  he  had  deemed  that 
he  was  an  exile  from  the  revelation  of  God  and  the  ministry  of 
His  love  ;  but,  lo !  like  Jacob,  too,  he  awakes,  and  finds  that  the 
Divine  light  is  near.  The  spot  where  he  had  prayed  was  none 
other  than  the  house  of  God,  and  the  gate  of  heaven. 

Obviously,  Nathanael  was  moved  to  the  very  heart,  and  to 
the  surrender  of  his  heart ;  and  even  we,  who  are  but  bystanders, 
can  hardly  look  on  unmoved.  In  Nathanael's  example  we  find 
our  duty;  and  in  the  wisdom  and  grace  of  Him  who  spake  to 
Nathanael  we  find,  or  may  find,  a  sufficient  motive  for  the  dis 
charge  of  that  duty.  We,  like  the  son  of  Tolmai,  are  bound  to 
surrender  ourselves  to  the  Son  of  God,  the  King  of  men.  And 
what  will  move  us  to  this  surrender  if  the  gracious  wisdom  of 
Christ  will  not  ?  From  many  of  the  stories  related  in  the  Gospels, 
notably  from  the  story  of  St.  Peter's  call,  we  learn  that,  as  He 
looked  on  men,  Christ  could  read  the  innermost  secret  of  their 
being,  and  forecast  their  future  destiny ;  that,  as  He  turned  His 
glance  on  this  man  and  that,  their  whole  future  shot  out  in  long 
perspective  before  His  eye,  brightening  ever  toward  the  eternal 
day,  or  sinking  toward  the  darkness.  And  now  we  learn  that 
He  who  could  forecast  the  future  of  men  could  also  recall  the 
past ;  that  on  every  countenance  on  which  He  looked  He  could 
trace  and  interpret  every  line  inscribed  by  experience,  deciphering 
every  enigma,  solving  every  problem  figured  thereon  by  Time. 
Our  present  character,  our  past  experience,  our  future  destiny,  all 
are  naked  and  open  to  Him.  Before  Him  the  hidden  things  of 
darkness  are  as  the  secrecies  of  light.  We  cannot  hide  ourselves 
from  Him  under  any  tree  in  the  garden,  however  dense  its 
shade.  He  looks  on  us,  and,  lo  !  He  knows  us  altogether,  even  to 
the  purpose,  passion,  desire  we  most  scrupulously  conceal.  Such 
wisdom  would  be  dreadful  to  us,  were  it  not  in  the  service  of  a 
love  most  tender  and  Divine. 

U  One  of  three  letters,  written  at  the  beginning  of  1886  to 
Miss  Edith  Kix,  to  whom  he  had  dedicated  "  A  Tangled  Tale,"  is 
interesting  as  showing  the  deeper  side  of  his  character : — 

"  The  Moral  Science  student  you  describe  must  be  a  beautiful 


NATHANAEL  239 

character,  and  if,  as  you  say,  she  lives  a  nohle  life,  then,  even 
though  she  does  not,  as  yet,  see  any  God,  for  whose  sake  she  can 
do  things,  I  don't  think  you  need  be  unhappy  about  her.  '  When 
thou  wast  under  the  fig  tree,  I  saw  thee,'  is  often  supposed  to 
mean  that  Nathanael  had  been  praying,  praying  no  doubt 
ignorantly  and  imperfectly,  but  yet  using  the  light  he  had :  and  it 
seems  to  have  been  accepted  as  faith  in  the  Messiah.  More  and 
more  it  seems  to  me  (I  hope  you  won't  be  very  much  shocked  at 
me  as  an  ultra  *  Broad '  Churchman)  that  what  a  person  is  is  of 
more  importance  in  God's  sight  than  merely  what  propositions  he 
affirms  or  denies.  You,  at  any  rate,  can  do  more  good  among 
those  new  friends  of  yours  by  showing  them  what  a  Christian  is 
than  by  telling  them  what  a  Christian  believes."  l 

2.  With  this  we  are  brought  to  the  confession  itself,  and  we  must 
note  that  Nathanael's  two  declarations  concerning  Jesus  form  a 
poetic  parallelism  which  is  a  marked  anticlimax,  unless  the  title 
"  the  Son  of  God  "  is  taken  as  essentially  equivalent  to,  and  not  as 
of  signally  higher  dignity  than,  the  other  title,  "  King  of  Israel." 
If  this  anticlimax  is  to  be  avoided,  we  do  wrong  to  read  into  this 
confession  any  of  the  more  metaphysical  content  which  has  come 
to  predominate  in  the  Christian  use  of  the  term  "  the  Son  of  God," 
notwithstanding  the  fact  that  that  transcendental  significance  is 
quite  at  home  in  the  circle  of  ideas  which  we  meet  in  the  Fourth 
Gospel 

That  the  expression  "  King  of  Israel "  is  a  simple  Jewish 
Messianic  designation  seems  to  be  proved  by  the  title  mockingly 
affixed  to  the  cross  of  Jesus,  by  the  taunt  of  the  multitudes  who 
stood  by,  "  Let  the  Messiah,  the  King  of  Israel,  now  come  down," 
and  by  the  other  current  title  "  Son  of  David."  Mention  only  is 
needed  of  the  Messianic  picture  of  the  theocratic  king  in  the 
Second  Psalm ;  of  the  prayer  of  the  devout  Jew  in  the  first 
century  B.C.,  "  Behold,  0  Lord,  and  raise  up  unto  them  their  King, 
the  son  of  David " ;  and  of  the  fact  that  in  the  Targums  the 
Messiah  is  always  called  King  Messiah. 

It  is  not  otherwise  with  the  other  term  in  this  parallelism 
To  the  Jewish  mind  the  title  "the  Son  of  God"  served  to 
designate  one  among  men  exalted  to  high  dignity,  either  as  God's 
chosen  (so  collectively  Israel),  or  ae  God's  representative  (so  the 
theocratic  king,  the  Messiah).  The  collective  use  is  not  peculiar 

1  Tfu  Li/e  ami  Letters  of  Lwia  Carroll,  260 


24o  NATHANAEL 

to  the  Old  Testament ;  it  appears  as  well  in  the  Psalms  of 
Solomon.  For  the  specific  reference  of  the  title  to  the  Messiah 
it  would  seem  to  be  conclusive  to  refer  to  the  question  of  the  high 
priest  at  the  trial  of  Jesus,  "  Art  thou  the  Messiah,  the  Son  of  the 
Blessed  ? "  (Mark  xiv.  61 ;  Matt.  xxvi.  63  has  "  the  Son  of  God  ") ; 
while  the  Book  of  Enoch  (cv.  2)  and  the  Fourth  Book  of  Ezra 
(vii.  28,  29,  xiii.  32,  52,  xiv.  9)  furnish  extra-canonical  confirmation 
from  late  pre-Christian  and  early  post-Christian  Jewish  literature. 
The  language  of  this  confession  of  Nathanael  appears  thus  to  be 
simply  and  purely  Messianic,  in  the  sense  in  which  this  hope  was 
held  in  the  early  decades  of  the  first  century  A.D.,  and  the  incident 
depicts  a  devout  Jew,  who  finds  one  who  can  read  his  inmost 
thoughts,  which  have  been  turned  with  longing  towards  the 
promised  hope,  and  who  is  therefore  moved  to  join  with 
others  in  hailing  the  new  Master  as  the  expected  King  of 
Israel. 

It  is  a  great  step  when  any  soul  can  thus  leave  all  its  pre 
sumptions  and  difficulties  behind  and  step  into  the  presence  of 
one  whom  it  can  recognize  as  the  fulfilment  of  its  dreams  and  the 
satisfaction  of  its  desires.  We  may  speak  of  the  value  of  independ 
ence,  and  its  value  is  great  and  its  cultivation  is  needful  for  the 
maturing  of  the  human  spirit ;  but  in  its  search  for  independence 
the  soul  is  truly  seeking  also  for  that  on  which  it  can  rest  with 
out  the  sacrifice  of  that  which  is  greater  than  mere  comfort,  its 
moral  and  spiritual  integrity.  The  great  problem  is  how  to  find 
rest  which  can  satisfy  the  spirit  while  maintaining  its  own  inward 
uprightness.  All  the  moral  forces,  all  the  better  nature,  as  we 
say,  must  be  reconciled,  or  peace  and  rest  is  impossible.  But 
whoever  comes  with  power  to  reconcile  these  and  to  bestow  the 
gift  of  love  is  acknowledged  as  rightful  lord  of  the  soul.  The 
spirit  bows  at  once  in  homage  to  its  king.  Thus  Nathanael  gave 
his  allegiance  to  our  Lord.  His  spirit  had  found  its  Divine 
satisfaction,  its  teacher,  its  king.  So  complete  was  the  victory 
expressed  in  his  declaration  of  homage — "  Rabbi,  thou  art  the  Son 
of  God  ;  thou  art  King  of  Israel." 

^|  Only  Owen's  closing  volumes  on  the  Spirit  and  the  Person 
of  Christ  do  justice  to  this  principle  [the  majesty  and  mystery  of 
Jesus] ;  this  awe  and  wonder  which  he  felt  before  the  glory  of 
Jesus ;  this  instinct  for  the  magnificence  and  unspeakable  worth 


NATHANAEL  241 

of  salvation  as  the  one  reality  that  endures  amid  the  shows  and 
shadows  of  the  world.  "  Young  man,"  said  Owen  once  to  a  relig 
ious  inquirer,  "  in  what  manner  do  you  think  to  go  to  God  ?  " 
"  Through  the  mediator,  sir."  "  That  is  easily  said,"  replied  tin- 
Puritan,  "  but  I  assure  you  it  is  another  thing  to  go  to  God  through 
the  mediator  than  many  who  make  use  of  the  expression  are 
aware  of.  I  myself  preached  Christ  some  years,  when  I  had  but 
very  little,  if  any,  experimental  acquaintance  with  access  to  God 
through  Christ."  The  personal  revelation  of  this  truth  in  his  own 
experience  perhaps  made  him  all  the  more  eager  and  competent 
to  enforce  it  in  his  writings,  and  many  a  passage  attests  the 
strength  of  his  conviction  on  this  point  of  Christianity.  "  0 
blessed  Jesus,"  he  ejaculates  at  one  point,  "  how  much  better  were 
it  not  to  be  than  to  be  without  thee — never  to  be  born  than  not 
to  die  in  thee ! "  And  again  :  "  The  most  superstitious  love  to 
Christ — that  is,  love  acted  in  ways  tainted  with  superstition — is 
better  than  none  at  all."  "If  Christ  be  not  God,  farewell  to 
Christianity — aa  to  the  mystery,  the  glory,  the  truth,  the  efticacy 
of  it !  Let  a  refined  heathenism  be  established  in  its  room." l 

When,  o'er  the  primrose  path,  with  childish  feet 
We  wander  forth  new  wonderments  to  spell, 

And,  tired  at  length,  to  loving  arms  retreat 
To  hear  some  loving  voice  old  tales  retell : 
We  know  Thee,  Lord,  as  our  Emmanuel, 

Who,  lying  in  a  manger  cold  and  bare, 

Brought  Christmas  music  on  the  midnight  air. 

When  fiercely  throbs  the  pulse,  and  youthful  fire 
Burns  through  the  heart  and  kindles  all  the  brain  J 

When  overflows  the  cup  of  our  desire 

With  beauty  and  romance,  and  all  in  vain 
We  strive  the  fulness  of  our  joy  to  drain : 

Thou  art  our  Poet  and  our  Lord  of  Love, 

Who  clothed  the  flowers  and  lit  the  stars  above. 

When,  at  life's  noon,  the  sultry  clouds  of  care 
Darken  the  footsteps  of  our  pilgrim  way, 

And  when,  with  failing  heart,  perforce  we  bear 
The  heat  and  burden  of  the  summer's  day : 
Thou,  Man  of  Sorrows,  knowest  our  dismay, 

And,  treading  'neath  the  heavens'  burning  arch, 

Thou  art  our  Comrade  in  the  toilsome  march. 

1  J.  Motfatt,  The  GvUtn  Book  of  John  Owen,  89. 
MARY-SIMON — I  6 


242  NATHANAEL 

And  when  at  length  the  sun  sinks  slowly  west, 
And  lengthening  shadows  steal  across  the  sky ; 

When  dim  grey  eyes  yearn  patiently  for  rest, 
And  weary  hearts  for  vanished  faces  sigh : 
Then  Thou,  the  Lord  of  Hope,  art  very  nigh, 

Thou,  the  great  Conqueror  in  the  ageless  strife — 

The  Lord  of  Resurrection  and  of  Life.1 

1  Gilbert  Thomas,  The  Wayside  Altar,  7. 


JUDAS    ISCARIOT. 

i. 

THE  MAN. 


LITERATURE. 

Aitken,  J.  R.,  The  Clirist  of  the  Men  of  Art  (1915). 

Andrews,  S.  J.,  The  Life  of  our  Lord  upon  the  Earth  (1892). 

Baldwin,  G.  0.,  Representative  Men  of  the  New  Testament  (1859),  57. 

Dawson,  W.  J.,  The  Man  Christ  Jesus  (1901),  358. 

Deems,  C.  F.,  Jesus  (1880),  603. 

Donehoo,  J.  de  Q.,  The  Apocryphal  and  Legendary  Life  of  Clirist  (1903). 

Edernheim,  A.,  The  Life  and  Times  of  Jesus  the  Messiah,  ii.  (1887)  471. 

Fairbairn,  A.  M.,  Studies  in  the  Life  of  Christ  (1881),  258. 

Farrar,  F.  W.,  The  Life  of  Christ  (1894),  471. 

Lange,  J.  P.,  The  Life  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  vi.  (1864). 

Liddon,  H.  P.,  Passiontide  Sermons  (1891),  210. 

Lightfoot,  J.  B.,  Sermons  Preached  in  St.  PauVs  Cathedral.  (1891),  58. 

Morrow,  H.  W.,  Questions  Asked  and  Answered  by  Our  Lord,  235. 

Neander,  A.,  The  Life  of  Jesus  Christ  (1880),  123,  419. 

Nicoll,  W.  R.,  The  Incarnate  Saviour  (1897),  216. 

Page,  G.  A.,  The  Diary  of  Judas  Iscariot  (1912). 

Rhees,  R.,  The  Life  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth  (1900),  178. 

Ross,  J.  M.  E.,  The  Christian  Standpoint  (1911),  103. 

Stalker,  J.,  The  Trial  and  Death  of  Jesus  Clirist  (1894),  110. 

Stevenson,  J.  G.,  The  Judges  of  Jesus  (1909),  1. 

Trench,  R.  C.,  Shipwrecks  of  Faith  (1867),  59. 

Catholic  Encyclopedia,  viii.  (1910)  539  (W.  H.  Kent). 

Dictionary  of  the  Bible,  ii.  (1899)  796  (A.  Plummer). 

„  „       (Single-volume,  1909),  502  (D.  Smith). 

Dictionary  of  Christ  and  the  Gospels,  i.  (1906)  907  (J.  G.  Tucker). 
Encyclopedia  Biblica,  ii.  (1901),  col.  20 23  (T.  K.  Clieyne). 
Expositor,  3rd  Ser.,  x.  (1889)  161  (G.  A.  Chad  wick). 
Jewish  Review,  iv.  (1913)  199  (S.  Krauss). 
Smith'*  Dictionary  of  the  Bible,  i.  (1893)  1831  (J.  M.  Fuller). 


•44 


THE  MAN. 

And  Judas,  which  betrayed  him,  answered  and  said,  Is  it  I,  Rabbi?  He 
saith  unto  him,  Thou  hast  said. — Matt.  xxvi.  25. 

THROUGH  the  deep  shadows  that  gather  round  the  closing  scenes 
of  the  life  of  Christ  on  earth  one  sinister  figure  has  arrested  every 
eye — Judas  of  Kerioth.  On  no  human  head  has  such  a  cloud  of 
infamy  descended:  in  all  human  history  there  is  no  man  who  has 
been  regarded  with  such  complete  abhorrence.  His  entire  biog 
raphy  is  included  in  a  dozen  sentences,  yet  so  vivid  is  each  touch 
that  the  effect  is  of  a  portrait  etched  in  "  lines  of  living  fire." 

^[  Thrs  do  the  things  that  have  produced  fruit,  nay,  whose  fruit 
still  grows,  turn  out  to  be  the  things  chosen  for  record  and  writing 
of;  which  things  alone  were  great,  and  worth  recording.  The 
Battle  of  Chalons,  where  Hunland  met  Rome,  and  the  Earth  was 
played  for,  at  sword-fence,  by  two  earth-bestriding  giants,  the 
sweep  of  whose  swords  cut  kingdoms  in  pieces,  hovers  dim  in 
the  languid  remembrance  of  a  few;  while  the  poor  police-court 
treachery  of  a  wretched  Iscariot,  transacted  in  the  wretched  land 
of  Palestine,  centuries  earlier,  for  "  thirty  pieces  of  silver,"  lives 
clear  in  the  heads,  in  the  hearts  of  all  men.1 

H  I  would  fain  see  the  face  of  him  who,  having  dipped  his 
hand  in  the  same  dish  with  the  Son  of  Man,  could  afterwards 
betray  Him.  I  have  no  conception  of  such  a  thing;  nor  have  I 
ever  seen  any  picture  (not  even  Leonardo's  very  fine  one)  that 
gave  mu  the  least  idea  of  it.2 

1.  The  name  Judas  is  the  Greek  form  of  the  Heb.  Judah, 
which,  in  Gen.  xxix.  35,  is  derived  from  the  verb  "  to  praise,"  and 
is  taken  as  meaning  "one  who  is  the  subject  of  praise."  The 
etymology  is  disputed,  but  in  its  popular  sense  it  suggests  a 
striking  paradox  when  used  of  one  whose  name  became  a  synonym 
for  shame.  Another  Apostle  bore  this  common  Jewish  name,  but 

1  Carlyle,  On  History  A<iain. 

1  Chtnles  Lainl>,  in  Hazlitt's  Table  Talk. 


246  JUDAS  ISCARIOT 

"  Judas  "  now  means  the  Betrayer  of  Jesus.  His  sin  has  stamped 
the  word  with  such  evil  significance  that  it  has  become  the  class- 
name  of  perfidious  friends  who  are  "no  better  than  Judases." 

U  It  was  over  and  over  again  forbidden  by  the  Church  that 
a  child  should  be  baptized  by  the  name  of  Jude.  To  this  day  the 
name  probably  does  not  exist  outside  Mr.  Hardy's  novel.  With 
regard  to  great  sinners  in  general,  and  Judas  in  particular,  the 
feeling  was,  "  I  will  not  make  mention  of  their  names  within  my 
lips,"  "Let  his  name  be  clean  put  out."1 

2.  Iscariot  is  understood  to  be  equivalent  to  ish-Kerioth,  that 
is,  "man  of  Kerioth."     The  epithet  is  applied  in  the  Gospels  both 
to  Judas  and  to  his  father  Simon  (John   vi.  71,  xiii.  26).     Now 
Kerioth  was  a  town  in  South  Judaea.     The  other  disciples  were 
Galiheans  all.     The  southern  Jews  regarded  the  northerners  with 
a  certain  superiority.     "  Thou  art  a  Galilean.     Thy  speech  be- 
wrayeth  thee,"  said  the  town  servants  of  the  high  priest.     Is  it 
possible  to  imagine  that  some  of  this  spirit  of  superiority,  utterly 
at  variance  with  the  ideal  of  fellowship,  alienated  Judas  from  his 
brethren?     If  it  did,  it   is  psychologically  probable  that  Judas 
would  attribute  the  lack  of  sympathy  to  them.     They  would  appear 
reserved  and  unsociable,  and  in  his  own  view  he  would  seem  the 
injured  one.     Such  blindness  is  almost  invariably  characteristic  of 
the  pride  which  causes  estrangement  from  one's  fellows. 

U  We  need  not  cross  the  English  Channel  in  search  of  racial 
differences.  We  have  them  in  our  own  island.  Look  at  the 
Keltic  fringe  on  the  other  side  of  Offa's  Dyke.  The  Welsh  are 
mystical,  poetical,  imaginative,  and  emotional.  We  Saxons,  with 
our  blend  of  Danish  and  Norman  blood,  are  stolid,  practical, 
tenacious,  and  indomitable.  Dissimilarities  quite  as  striking 
prevailed  among  the  Jews  in  the  Holy  Land.  The  natives  of  the 
south  were  proud,  dreamy,  austere,  and  passionate.  They  were 
fired  with  an  unquenchable  hope  to  restore  the  power  and  the 
splendour  of  the  reign  of  David  and  Solomon.  A  desire  to  repeat 
and  surpass  the  exploits  of  the  Maccabees  tingled  in  their  veins. 
The  Judeans  were  fanatical  patriots.2 

3.  When  and  where  Jesus  met  Judas  we  cannot  tell,  but  it 
was  probably  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Jerusalem.     The  unwritten 

1  R.  L.  Gales,  Studies  in  Arcady,  181. 
3  W.  Wakinshaw,  John's  Ideal  City,  123. 


THE  MAN  247 

chapters  in  the  history  of  Judas  may  be  easily  supplied  from 
what  we  know  of  the  movements  of  the  time,  and  of  the  relations 
of  Christ  with  His  other  disciples.  There  was  certainly  an  earlier 
and  different  Judas,  who  possessed  some  striking  characteristics  of 
mind  and  spirit,  or  he  would  never  have  been  deliberately  selected 
by  Jesus  for  the  toils  and  honours  of  the  Apostolate.  It  is  natural 
that  John  should  speak  of  him  in  the  bitterest  terms,  for  he  was 
deeply  penetrated  by  a  horror  of  his  crime;  but  the  action  of 
Christ  in  calling  Judas  to  the  Apostolate  must  be  weighed  against 
the  denunciation  of  his  fellow-Apostle.  Somewhere  in  the  past, 
which  can  only  be  conjectured,  we  may  discern  a  youthful  Judas, 
growing  up  in  the  devout  adherence  of  the  Jewish  faith,  conscious 
of  unusual  powers  and  distinguished  by  a  sombre  heat  of  enthusi 
asm,  filled  with  patriotic  ardour  and  deeply  moved  by  the  Messianic 
hope.  In  due  time  this  youth  finds  himself  in  the  presence  of 
Jesus  of  Nazareth.  He  listens  to  a  voice  which  stirs  his  heart  as 
no  human  voice  has  ever  stirred  it.  He  feels  the  eye  of  Jesus 
resting  on  him  in  solicitation  and  intimate  appeal.  The  current 
of  his  life  is  turned  instantly,  and  he  leaves  all  to  follow  this  new 
Divine  Teacher. 

U  Smetham's  perception  of  things  in  the  Bible,  his  putting  of 
them  in  a  new  light,  is  sometimes  like  an  apocalyptic  sunrise. 
Through  the  incumbent  darkness  of  some  grim  episode  he  sends  a 
shaft  of  unexpected  light,  which  transfigures  all  our  prepossessions. 
Here  is  a  case  in  point.  In  St.  John's  Gospel,  at  the  eighteenth 
chapter,  is  told  the  gruesome  story  of  that  arch-renegade  Judas, 
in  the  act  of  treachery  which  has  placed  his  name  as  a  byword 
of  heinous  vice  upon  the  page  of  universal  history.  There  is  no 
written  comment.  But  the  third  verse  is  flanked  by  a  master 
stroke  of  pictorial  suggestion :  a  tiny  etching  half  an  inch  square 
depicts  a  child,  lying  upon  its  cradle-pillow,  with  a  face  of 
captivating  infantile  sweetness,  and  large  wondering  eyes.  Under 
neath  is  written  with  laconic  simplicity,  "Judas  Iscariot."  What ! 
Was  that  incarnation  of  treason  ever  a  child  ?  By  some  lapse  of 
logic  it  has  always  seemed  as  though  he  had  leaped  in  full-orbed 
criminality  upon  the  world  which  he  disgraced.  It  strains  one's 
faculty  of  imagination  to  think  of  Judas  and  cradle-songs.  Yet  is 
the  hoiuiletic  painter  true.  Stoddard  the  poet  is  also  right: 

We  lie,  in  infancy,  at  heaven's  gate; 
Around  our  pillows,  golden  ladders  rise. 


248  JUDAS  ISCARIOT 

The  holy  office  of  motherhood,  since  the  betrayer's  day,  has 
wasted  its  sweetness  a  thousand  times  upon  the  embryo  malefactor. 
Many  a  branded  and  blighted  life  to-day  looks  back  with  yearning, 
through  a  rain  of  scalding  tears,  at  childhood's  Paradise  Lost, 
saying: 

Happy  those  early  days, 

When  I  shined  in  my  angel  infancy; 

Before  I  taught  my  soul  to  fancy  aught 

But  a  white  celestial  thought. 

Before  I  had  the  black  art  to  dispense, 

A  separate  sin  to  every  sense; 

But  felt  through  all  this  fleshly  dress 

Bright  gleams  of  everlastingness ! 

Aye!  "Judas  also  which  betrayed  him"  was  once  a  child. 
The  childhood  of  Jesus,  the  infancy  of  the  good,  are  phases  of 
alluring  charm  in  the  life  of  man ;  but  the  childhood  of  Judas  is 
a  new  thought  in  the  old  story  of  the  Fall.  It  is  an  unaccustomed 
key  in  the  broken  music  of  our  discordant  existence.1 

Oh,  a  new  star,  a  new  star 

Blazed  like  a  lamp  of  gold. 
For  closely  pressed  to  Mary's  breast 
The  Saviour  Jesus  lay  at  rest, 

As  prophets  had  foretold. 

(But  little  Judas,  as  he  slept, 

Stirred  in  his  mother's  arms  and  wept.) 

Oh,  the  night  wind,  the  night  wind 

A  new  song  found  to  sing, 
Caught  from  the  gleaming  angel  choir, 
With  harps  of  light  and  tongues  of  fire, 

To  praise  the  new-born  King. 

(But  little  Judas,  as  he  slept, 

Stirred  in  his  mother's  arms  and  wept.) 

Oh,  the  worship,  the  worship, 

And  myrrh  and  incense  sweet, 
Which  shepherd  kings  from  far  away 
Had  brought  with  golden  gifts  to  lay 

At  the  Saviour  Jesus'  feet. 

(But  little  Judas,  as  he  slept, 

Stirred  in  his  mother's  arms  and  wept.) 

1  W.  G.  Beardmore,  James  Smetham,  80. 


THE   MAN  249 

Oh,  the  shadow,  the  shadow 

Of  the  cross  upon  the  hill ! 
But  yet  the  Babe  who  was  to  bear 
The  whole  world's  weight  of  sin  and  care, 

On  Mary's  heart  lay  still. 

(But  Judas'  mother,  with  a  cry, 

Kissed  him  and  wept,  she  knew  not  why.) 

4.  Judas  is  found  among  the  twelve  Apostles.  Almost  from 
the  first  the  man  must  have  had  a  baffled  sense  of  unfitness  for 
his  calling,  mingled  with  eager  desire  to  secure  the  great  things 
which  Jesus  promised,  and  which  the  miracles  attested  His  power 
to  grant.  As  each  day  led  others  up  from  their  old  levels,  by  the 
purifying  tidings  of  an  unearthly  kingdom,  of  vast  rewards  to  be 
received  "  with  persecutions,"  and  how  they  should  be  killed  and 
crucified,  yet  not  a  hair  of  their  heads  should  perish,  all  was 
assuredly  a  blind  paradox  to  the  earthly  heart  of  Judas,  causing 
him  to  lie  silent,  warily  abstinent  from  comment  and  from  question, 
feeling  his  way  towards  the  position  which  would  best  suit  him  in 
the  expected  kingdom  by  securing  now  the  poor  treasurership  of 
the  Galilaeau  group.  By  what  intrigues  he  excluded  or  ejected 
from  that  post  Matthew,  whose  experience  as  a  publican  fitted 
him  so  specially  for  it,  we  cannot  tell ;  but  we  can  well  imagine 
that  he  would  endeavour,  by  energy  in  the  direction  which  gave 
scope  to  his  earthly  instincts,  to  hide  from  others,  and  for  a  season 
from  himself,  the  lifelessness  and  lovelessness  of  his  spirit.  For 
such  is  the  method  of  all  declining  souls. 

It  is  St.  John  who  tells  us  that  Judas  carried  the  purse.  After 
describing  the  anointing  of  Christ's  feet  by  Mary  at  the  feast  in 
Bethany,  the  Evangelist  continues  :  "  But  Judos  Iscariot,  one  of  his 
disciples,  which  should  betray  hi m,saith  :  Why  was  not  this  ointment 
sold  for  three  hundred  pence,  and  given  to  the  poor?  Now  this 
he  said,  not  because  he  cared  for  the  poor  ;  but  because  he  was  a 
thief,  and  having  the  bag,  took  away  what  was  put  therein  "  (John 
xii.  4-6).  This  fact  that  Judas  carried  the  bag  is  again  referred 
to  by  the  same  Evangelist  in  his  account  of  the  Last  Supper 
(xiii.  29).  The  Synoptic  Gospels  do  not  notice  this  office  of  Judas, 
nor  do  they  say  that  it  was  he  who  protested  at  the  alleged  waste 
of  the  ointment.  But  it  is  significant  that  both  in  Matthew  and 


25o  JUDAS  ISCARIOT 

in  Mark  the  account  of  the  anointing  is  closely  followed  by  the 
story  of  the  betrayal :  "  Then  one  of  the  twelve,  who  was  called 
Judas  Iscariot,  went  unto  the  chief  priests,  and  said,  What  are  ye 
willing  to  give  me,  and  I  will  deliver  him  unto  you  ? "  (Matt.  xxvi. 
14,  15);  "And  Judas  Iscariot,  he  that  was  one  of  the  twelve,  went 
away  unto  the  chief  priests,  that  he  might  deliver  him  unto  them. 
And  they,  when  they  heard  it,  were  glad,  and  promised  to  give 
him  money"  (Mark  xiv.  10,  11).  In  both  these  accounts  it  will 
be  noticed  that  Judas  takes  the  initiative :  he  is  not  tempted  and 
seduced  by  the  priests,  but  approaches  them  of  his  own  accord. 
St.  Luke  tells  the  same  tale,  but  adds  another  touch  by  ascribing 
the  deed  to  the  instigation  of  Satan :  "  And  Satan  entered  into 
Judas,  who  was  called  Iscariot,  being  one  of  the  number  of  the 
twelve.  And  he  went  away,  and  communed  with  the  chief  priests 
and  captains,  how  he  might  deliver  him  unto  them.  And  they 
were  glad,  and  covenanted  to  give  him  money.  And  he  consented, 
and  sought  opportunity  to  deliver  him  unto  them  in  the  absence 
of  the  multitude  "  (Luke  xxii.  3-6). 

T[  The  Golden  Legend  says  :  "  Then  it  happed  that  he  was 
angry  and  sorry  for  the  ointment  that  Mary  Magdalene  poured  on 
the  feet  and  head  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  said  that  it  was 
worth  three  hundred  pence,  and  so  much  he  had  lost,  and  there 
fore  sold  he  Jesus  Christ  for  thirty  pieces  of  that  money,  of  which 
every  penny  was  worth  tenpence,  and  so  he  received  three  hundred 
pence.  Or  after  that,  some  say,  he  ought  to  have  of  all  the  gifts 
given  to  Jesus  Christ  the  tenth  penny,  and  so  he  recovered  thirty 
pieces  of  that  he  sold  Him."  Legend  has  invested  these  thirty 
pieces  with  a  long  mysterious  history.  They  were  made  of  the 
precious  metal  brought  by  Adam  out  of  Paradise,  and  were  coined 
by  Ninus,  King  of  Assyria.  Abraham  carried  them  into  the  land 
of  Canaan,  and  with  them  Joseph  was  bought  by  the  Ishmaelites. 
They  were  in  the  treasures  of  Pharaoh,  of  Solomon,  of  Nebuchad 
nezzar.  The  Magi  offered  them  to  the  Holy  Child.  At  last,  by 
command  of  Jesus  Himself,  they  were  given  to  the  temple  at 
Jerusalem,  whence  they  were  paid  by  the  chief  priests  to  Judas, 
and  afterwards  to  the  soldiers  who  watched  the  tomb.1 

5.  Is   it   to   be  wondered  at  that  the  bargain  with  the  high 
priests  should  have  seized  on  the  imagination  of   Christendom  ? 
Can  we  wonder  that  Dante  should  have  placed  Judas  in  the  lowest 
1  R.  L.  Gales,  Studio  in  Arcadi/,  176. 


THE  MAN  251 

circles  of  the  damned,  sole  partner  with  Satan  of  the  uttermost 
dark  ?  But  terrible  as  is  the  mere  suggestion  of  the  betrayal, 
its  details  are  more  repellent  still.  It  was  essential  to  the  carry 
ing  out  of  his  bargain  that  Judas  should  keep  in  close  touch 
with  our  Lord  and  His  disciples.  So  even  when  they  went  to 
the  Upper  Room  to  keep  their  last  Passover  together  Judas 
went  with  them.  His  presence  made  impossible  the  harmony  our 
Lord  desired  for  their  last  meeting;  and  He  was  BO  troubled 
that  He  could  not  keep  the  guilty  secret  between  Judas  and 
Himself.  So  it  came  to  pass,  while  they  sat  at  meat,  that  the 
face  of  Jesus  was  shadowed  with  concern.  With  amazement  the 
little  circle  of  the  disciples  heard  Him  say,  "  Verily,  I  say  unto 
you,  that  one  of  you  shall  betray  me."  The  words  moved  the 
true  comrades  of  the  Christ  to  deep  disquietude.  Once  again 
our  Lord  was  hinting  that  one  of  them  was  a  traitor.  Reclining 
in  the  dim  glow  of  the  flickering  lamps,  they  searched  each  others' 
faces  in  the  endeavour  to  scrutinize  each  others'  souls.  While 
they  were  troubled  thus,  the  Master  determined  on  one  fine1 
appeal  to  Judas.  In  the  East  it  is  a  mark  of  special  consideration 
to  dip  a  piece  of  bread  or  meat  in  the  sauce  or  gravy  that  forms 
part  of  a  meal,  and  to  pass  it  to  the  guest  whom  one  has  it  in  one's 
heart  to  honour  specially.  With  a  heart  full  of  pity  for  the 
traitor,  Jesus  dipped  in  the  dish  and  gave  the  sop  to  Judas  Iscariot. 
Such  an  act  was  bound  either  to  shame  him  out  of  his  evil  purpose 
or  to  harden  perversity  into  determined  wickedness.  It  was 
the  latter  that  happened.  The  favour  of  his  Lord  did  but  confirm 
the  evil  in  the  heart  of  Judas;  and,  recognizing  the  true  inward 
ness  of  what  had  taken  place,  he  rose  from  the  couch  and  passed 
from  the  room.  Sullen  of  soul  and  hardened  of  spirit,  he  passed 
down  the  steps  and  crossed  the  shadowed  courtyard  into  the 
narrow  and  winding  city  street.  Then  in  the  darkness  he  was 
alone.  "He  then  having  received  the  sop  went  immediately  out: 
and  it  was  night."  What  else  should  it  be  ? 

^|  When  Jesus  is  speaking  of  His  betrayal  He  uses  two 
phrases  calculated  to  aggravate,  were  that  possible,  the  enormity 
of  the  ollewe.  He  describes  the  traitor  as  "  he  that  eateth 
with  me,"  "  he  that  dippeth  with  me  in  the  dish "  (Mark 
xiv.  18,  20).  These  expressions  arc  both  designed  to  bring  out 
the  same  fact,  that  the  traitor  is  breaking  the  S;K  red  bond  of 


252  JUDAS  ISCARIOT 

table-fellowship.  It  is  well  known  what  importance  was  attached 
to  this  law  of  table-fellowship  in  ancient  times.  Once  a  person 
shared  a  meal  with  another,  he  became  bound  to  him  by  closest 
ties,  and  was  required  to  protect  him  to  the  best  of  his  ability. 
Judas  in  betraying  his  Master  is  breaking  this  sacred  bond.  In 
St.  John's  Gospel,  Jesus  quotes,  with  reference  to  him,  the  words 
of  the  Psalmist  who  had  bewailed  like  treachery  on  the  part  of 
one  who  had  broken  the  law  of  hospitality:  "He  that  eateth 
bread  with  me  hath  lifted  up  his  heel  against  me." l 

U  The  scene  of  the  Supper  has  stamped  itself  upon  men's 
minds  as  few  others  in  all  history  have  done,  and  has  evoked  a 
whole  world  of  wonderment  and  fancy.  It  is  unnecessary  to 
mention  the  superstition  about  the  number  thirteen.  "  He  sat 
down  with  the  twelve."  Judas  sat  on  the  right  hand  of  Our  Lord, 
between  St.  John  and  St.  Peter.  One  thinks  of  the  last  days 
of  those  three  comrades — of  the  hideous  death  of  Judas,  of  the 
world-making  martyrdom  of  St.  Peter,  of  the  figure  described 
by  the  great  Eussian  seer,  the  old  St.  John,  all  white,  a  keeper 
of  bees,  smelling  of  wax  and  honey.  In  Leonardo's  picture  the 
hand  of  Judas  is  upon  the  salt-cellar,  which  he  upsets  as  he  says, 
"  Lord,  is  it  I  ? "  This  little  detail,  carried  all  over  Europe  as  the 
Faith  spread,  may  have  given  rise  to  the  superstition  expressed 
in  the  proverb,  "  He  who  spills  salt,  spills  sorrow."  The  idea  that 
the  ill  effects  may  be  warded  off  by  throwing  the  spilt  salt  over 
the  left  shoulder  is,  no  doubt,  explained  by  the  old  belief  that 
the  Good  Angel  is  stationed  on  the  right  side  of  every  man,  the 
Demon  on  the  left.2 

6.  A  few  hours  later,  Judas  led  towards  a  garden  which  was 
one  of  the  favourite  resting-places  of  his  Lord  a  great  multitude 
with  swords  and  clubs,  with  lanterns,  torches,  and  weapons. 
They  were  the  myrmidons  of  the  high  priests  ;  and  their  instruc 
tions  were  to  capture  our  Lord  and  to  bring  Him  bound  to 
Annas.  Out  of  the  city  gate,  across  the  brook,  into  the  shadow 
of  the  trees  they  passed,  the  traitor  leading  the  way.  Then, 
beneath  the  murky  glare  of  the  torches,  he  saw  the  face  of 
the  Christ,  white  with  spiritual  strain.  With  an  amazing  refine 
ment  of  villainy  he  kissed  our  Lord,  that  the  band  might  know 
whom  to  capture.  The  Master  must  have  shuddered  at  his  touch, 
but  even  then  He  spoke  kindly  to  him ;  and  before  long,  with 

1  G.  Wauchope  Stewart,  in  The  Sunday  Magazine^  March  1910,  p.  389. 

2  R.  L.  Gales,  Studies  in  Arcady,  177. 


THE   MAN  253 

Jesus  as  prisoner,  the  melancholy  procession  started  anew  towards 
the  city. 

T|  Not  only  is  kissing  a  mark  of  homage :  it  is  still  in  the 
East  the  salutation  of  intimate  friendship;  and  as  a  mark  of 
atlection,  of  respect,  of  condescension,  is  much  more  usual  than 
among  ourselves.  Ordinary  acquaintances  touch  each  other's 
hand,  and  then  kiss  their  own,  and  apply  it  to  their  forehead, 
lips,  and  breast.  Inferiors  kiss  the  back  of  the  hand,  or,  if  above 
the  position  of  a  servant,  the  palm.  Slaves  kiss  the  foot,  and  so 
do  suppliants  deprecating  anger,  or  begging  pardon.  Kissing  the 
hem  of  the  garment  expresses  great  reveience,  and  holy  men  or 
dervishes  are  especially  so  saluted.  In  the  Greek  Church,  during 
grand  ceremonials,  the  edge  of  the  robe  of  the  officiating  priest  is 
often  kissed  by  the  worshippers.  I  have  seen  Russian  officers  in 
Moscow  kneel  down  in  the  mud  of  the  street  and  kiss  the  hem  of 
the  robe  of  the  priest  who  was  conducting  a  holy  picture  in  a 
procession.  But  the  kiss  on  either  cheek  is  the  sign  of  close 
intimacy  and  warm  affection  among  equals.  It  is  the  mark,  not  of 
gratitude  nor  of  homage,  but  of  unselfish  love  and  esteem.  Hence 
the  betrayal  by  Judas  with  a  kiss  intensified  the  black  act  of 
treachery.  It  is  only  paralleled  by  the  treacherous  assassination 
of  Ainasa  by  Joab,  taking  him  by  the  beard  as  if  to  kiss  his  cheek, 
while  holding  the  sword  with  which  he  basely  stabs  him.  I 
remember  a  sheikh  of  the  Ad  wan  tribe  assassinating  a  rival  in  a 
similar  manner,  professing  reconciliation  and  holding  his  beard 
with  his  left  hand  to  kiss  him,  while  he  suddenly  stabbed  him  over 
the  shoulder  with  a  dagger  in  his  right  hand.1 

Hail !  Master  mine  !  so  did  the  viper  hiss, 

When,  with  false  fang  and  stealthy  crawl,  he  came 

And  scorched  Messiah's  cheek  with  that  vile  kiss 
He  deemed  would  sojourn  there — a  brand  of  shame. 

Ah,  no!  not  long!  for  soon,  and  face  to  face 

With  His  world-shouldering  Cross  Lord  Jesu  stood. 

All  hail!  He  said;  and,  with  a  proud  embrace, 

Fasten 'd  the  traitor's  kiss  to  that  forgiving  wood!2 

7.  Satan  must  once  more  enter  the  heart  of  Judas  at  that 
Supper  before  he  can  finally  do  the  deed.  But,  even  so,  we 
believe  it  was  only  temporarily,  not  for  always — for  he  was  still 

1  11.  15.  Tristram,  Ettsiern  Cuxtui/u  in  Bible  Lands,  204. 
•  Hubert  Stephen  iiuwker. 


254  JUDAS   ISCARIOT 

a  human  being,  such  as  on  this  side  eternity  we  all  are — and  he 
had  still  a  conscience  working  in  him.  With  this  element  he  had 
not  reckoned  in  his  bargain  in  the  high  priest's  palace.  On  the 
morrow  of  His  condemnation  it  would  exact  a  terrible  account. 
That  night  in  Gethsemane  never  more  passed  from  his  soul.  In 
the  thickening  and  encircling  gloom  all  around  he  must  have  ever 
seen  only  the  torchlight  glare  as  it  fell  on  the  pallid  Face  of  the 
Divine  Sufferer.  In  the  terrible  stillness  before  the  storm  he 
must  have  ever  heard  only  these  words:  "Betrayest  thou  the 
Son  of  man  with  a  kiss  ? "  He  did  not  hate  Jesus  then — he  hated 
nothing;  he  hated  everything.  He  was  utterly  desolate  as  the 
storm  of  despair  swept  over  his  disenchanted  soul  and  swept  him 
before  it.  No  one  in  heaven  or  on  earth  to  appeal  to ;  no  one, 
angel  or  man,  to  stand  by  him.  Not  the  priests,  who  had  paid 
him  the  price  of  blood,  would  have  aught  of  him,  not  even  the 
thirty  pieces  of  silver,  the  blood-money  of  his  Master  and  of  his 
own  soul — even  as  the  modern  Synagogue,  which  approves  of 
what  has  been  done,  but  not  of  the  deed,  will  have  none  of  him ! 
With  their  "  See  thou  to  it ! "  they  sent  him  reeling  back  into  his 
darkness.  Not  so  could  conscience  be  stilled.  And,  louder  than 
the  ring  of  the  thirty  silver  pieces  as  they  fell  on  the  marble 
pavement  of  the  Temple,  rang  it  ever  in  his  soul :  "  I  have  betrayed 
innocent  blood ! " 

An  ancient  writer,  impressed  by  the  bitterness  of  Judas's  grief 
and  the  sincerity  of  his  confession,  "  I  have  sinned  in  that  I 
have  betrayed  innocent  blood,"  would  interpret  his  suicide  favour 
ably.  In  the  agony  of  his  condition  he  could  not  bear  to  wait ; 
his  Master  was  doomed,  and  he  would  anticipate  Him ;  he  would 
rush  at  once  into  the  world  of  the  unseen,  seek  His  presence 
there,  and  confess  the  heinousness  of  his  guilt,  and  throw  himself 
on  His  infinite  compassion — "  with  his  bare  soul."  It  is  a  striking 
thought.  "  With  his  bare  soul " — stripped  of  those  hands  which 
sealed  the  fatal  compact  by  their  grasp,  of  those  eyes  which 
gloated  over  the  accursed  gain,  of  those  lips  which  gave  the  final, 
fatal,  treacherous  kiss.  And  yet  this,  we  feel,  is  not  the  Judas  of 
the  Evangelists,  the  Son  of  Perdition.  "  With  his  bare  soul."  It 
had  been  bare  enough  throughout  in  the  sight  of  God,  with  all 
its  dark  windings,  all  its  treacherous  subterfuges — bare  with  that 
blackened  guilt,  which  a  long  lii'e  of  penitence  were  too  little  to 


THE  MAN  255 

wipe  out,  and  which  a  suicidal  death  could  only  fix  there  the 
more  indelibly. 

1   know  not  what  I  am — I  saw  Him  there  ! 

I  saw  Him  cross  the  brook, 

With  feet  that  shook, 
And  enter  by  the  little  garden-stair. 

Am  I  of  those  who  watch  Him  to  betray  ? 

That  little  garden-path, 

That  way  He  hath— 
I  know  the  very  turn  where  He  will  pray. 

Judas  I  know  .  .  .  But  who  are  these  I  mark, 

Who  come  with  torches'  flare? 

I  weep  and  stare  .  .  . 
Jesus  is  very  safe,  deep  in  the  dark. 

He  broke  forth  from  the  flowers, 
To  front  these  hellish  powers ; 
A  Rose  of  Sharon  He, 
Uplifted  from  the  tree. 

Oh,  fair  of  Spirit  He! 
As  Venus  from  the  Sea, 
So  soft,  so  borne  along, 
He  drew  to  that  mad  throng. 

He  questioned  them ;  He  thought 
He  was  the  One  they  sought — 

He  is  the  only  One  .  .  . 
They  have  bound  Him,  He  is  gone ! 

Oh,  Who  is  this  they  have  crucified  ? 

They  have  not  yet  raised  Him  above: 

They  are  drawn  in  a  group  aside, 

His  garments  to  divide: 

On  the  ground  He  lieth,  crucified — 

Through  the  Heavens  there  beateth  one  wild  Dove.1 

8.  A  certain  mystery  broods  over  Judas's  obscure  and  lonely 
death,  through  which  we  dimly  discern  an  unsteady  attempt  at 
suicide,  a  treacherous  knot  or  a  cord  that  breaks,  a  heavy  fall 

1  Michael  Field,  Mystic  Trect,  2$. 


256  JUDAS  ISCARIOT 

into  the  hollow  whence  the  potters  had  long  since  dug  out  the 
clay,  and  last  of  all  a  hideous  mass,  the  strange  antithesis  of  that 
undesecrated  Body  which  even  then  perhaps  was  being  reverently 
iaid  in  a  new  tomb,  and  which  saw  no  corruption. 

"  He  went  to  his  own  place  " — this  is  St.  Peter's  simple  phrase. 
The  veil  is  drawn  over  his  fate.  We  dare  not,  cannot,  lift  it. 
There  let  us  leave  him;  there  to  the  mercy  of  the  Eighteous 
Judge,  and  the  justice  of  a  merciful  God ;  there  "  with  his  bare- 
soul,"  in  the  presence  of  the  Christ  whom  he  betrayed  and 
crucified.  It  is  not  ours  to  judge.  Only  his  history  remains ;  not 
as  a  discouragement,  for  that  it  cannot  be,  but  as  a  warning  to  us, 
how  the  greatest  spiritual  privileges  may  be  neutralized  by  the 
indulgence  of  one  illicit  passion,  and  the  life  which  is  lived  in  the 
face  of  the  unclouded  sun  may  set  at  last  in  the  night  of  despair. 

U  Deeper — farther  out  into  the  night !  to  its  farthest  bounds — 
where  rises  and  falls  the  dark  flood  of  death.  The  wild  howl  of 
the  storm  has  lashed  the  dark  waters  into  fury :  they  toes  and 
break  in  wild  billows  at  his  feet.  One  narrow  rift  in  the  cloud- 
curtain  overhead,  and  in  the  pale,  deathlike  light  lies  the  Figure 
of  the  Christ,  so  calm  and  placid,  untouched  and  unharmed,  on 
the  storm-tossed  waters,  as  it  had  been  that  night  lying  on  the 
Lake  of  Galilee,  when  Judas  had  seen  Him  come  to  them  over  the 
surging  billows,  and  then  bid  them  be  at  peace.  Peace !  What 
peace  to  him  now — in  earth  or  heaven  ?  It  was  the  same  Christ, 
but  thorn-crowned,  with  nail-prints  in  His  Hands  and  Feet 
And  this  Judas  had  done  to  the  Master !  Only  for  one  moment 
did  it  seem  to  lie  there ;  then  it  was  sucked  up  by  the  dark  waters 
beneath.  And  again  the  cloud-curtain  is  drawn,  only  more 
closely ;  the  darkness  is  thicker,  and  the  storm  wilder  than  before. 
Out  into  that  darkness,  with  one  wild  plunge — there,  where  the 
Figure  of  the  Dead  Christ  had  lain  on  the  waters !  And  the  dark 
waters  have  closed  around  him  in  eternal  silence. 

In  the  lurid  morn  that  broke  on  the  other  shore  where  the 
flood  cast  him  up,  did  he  meet  those  searching,  loving  Eyes  of 
Jesus,  whose  gaze  he  knew  so  well,  when  he  came  to  answer  for 
the  deeds  done  in  the  flesh  ? 

And — can  there  be  a  store  in  the  Eternal  Compassion  for  the 
Betrayer  of  Christ  ? l 

1  A.  Edersheiiu,  The,  Life  and  Times  of  Jesus  tht  Messiah,  ii.  478. 


JUDAS  ISCARIOT. 

II. 

THE  APOSTLE. 


MARY-SIMON— 17 


LITERATURE. 

Andrews,  S.  J.,  The  Life  of  our  Lord  upon  the  Earth  (1892). 

Blunt,  J.  J.,  Plain  Sermons,  ii.  (1868)  256. 

Burn,  A.  E.,  The  Crown  of  Thorns  (1911),  1. 

Dawson,  "VV.  J.,  The  Man  Christ  Jesus  (1901),  358. 

Edersheim,  A.,  The  Life  and  Times  of  Jesus  the  Messiah,  ii.  (1887)  471, 

Fairbairn,  A.  M.,  Studies  in  the  Life  of  Christ  (1881),  258. 

Holtzmann,  0.,  The  Life  of  Jesus  (1904),  457. 

Kemble,  C.,  Memorials  of  a  Closed  Ministry,  iii.  61. 

Ker,  J.,  Sermons,  i.  (1885)  282. 

Lange,  J.  P.,  The  Life  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  vi.  (1864). 

Liddon,  H.  P.,  Passiontide  Sermons  (1891),  210. 

Lightfoot,  J.  B.,  Sermons  Preached  in  St.  Paul's  Cathedral  (1891),  58. 

Maclaren,  A.,  Leaves  from  the  Tree  of  Life  (1899),  153. 

Moulton,  J.  H.,  Visions  of  Sin  (1898),  93. 

Neander,  A.,  The  Life  of  Jesus  Christ  (1880),  123,  419. 

Page,  G.  A.,  The  Diary  of  Judas  Iscariot  (1912). 

Parker,  J.,  The  Ark  of  God  (1877),  40. 

Rhees,  R.,  The  Life  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth  (1900),  178. 

Ross,  J.  M.  E.,  The  Christian  Standpoint  (1911),  103. 

Selwyn,  E.  C.,  The  Oracles  in  the  New  Testament  (1912),  214. 

Stalker,  J.,  The  Trial  and  Death  of  Jesus  Christ  (1894),  110. 

Trench,  R.  C.,  Shipwrecks  of  Faith  (1867),  59. 

Weiss,  B.,  The  Life  of  Christ,  ii.  (1884)  273. 

Christian  World  Pulpit,  Ixxvii.  (1910)  138  (G.  Barratt). 

Dictionary  of  the  Bible,  ii.  (1899)  796  (A.  Plummer). 

Dictionary  of  Christ  and  the  Gospels,  i.  (1906)  907  (J.  G.  Tasker), 

Encyclopaedia  Biblica,  ii.  (1901),  col.  2623  (T.  K.  Cheyne). 

Expositor,  3rd  Ser.,  x.  (1889)  161  (G.  A.  Chad  wick). 

Homiletic  Review,  Ixv.  (1913)  311  (A.  T.  Cadoux). 

Jemsh  Review,  iv.  (1913)  199  (S.  Krauss). 


THE  APOSTLE. 

Jesus  answered  them,  Did  not  I  choose  you  the  twelve,  and  one  of  you  is 
a  devil?  Now  he  spake  of  Judas  the  son  of  Simon  Iscariot,  for  he  it  was 
that  should  betray  him,  being  one  of  the  twelve. — John  vi.  70,  71. 

WE  now  come  to  the  question  which  is  in  our  minds  through  all 
the  story  of  this  man's  career — Why  was  Judas  called  to  be  an 
Apostle  ?  Jesus  chose  twelve  that  they  might  be  with  Him.  lie 
offered  to  them  His  friendship.  He  admitted  them  into  the  very 
closest  intimacy.  He  lavished  upon  them  all  the  wealth  of  His 
tender  and  gracious  love.  And  from  that  little  circle  of  twelve 
came  forth  the  man  who  was  to  sell  Him.  "  Did  not  I  choose 
you  the  twelve,  and  one  of  you  is  a  devil  ? "  And  that  was  the 
peculiar  bitterness  in  the  death  of  Christ.  It  was  brought  about 
by  the  instrumentality  of  a  friend.  The  hate  of  the  priests,  the 
furious  clamour  of  the  mob,  the  pitiful  cowardice  of  Pilate,  the 
brutality  of  the  soldiers — Jesus  could  contemplate  the  prospect  of 
it  all  with  a  quiet  heart ;  but  the  thought  that  one  of  His  own 
beloved  arid  cherished  Twelve  should  sell  Him  to  His  deadly  foes 
for  a  slave's  ransom  pierced  Him  to  the  quick.  "  Mine  own 
familiar  friend,"  was  the  cry  of  His  outraged  heart,  "  in  whom  I 
trusted,  who  did  eat  of  my  bread,  hath  lifted  up  his  heel  against 
me."  "  When  Jesus  had  thus  said,  he  was  troubled  in  the  spirit, 
and  testified,  and  said,  Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  you,  that  one  of 
you  shall  betray  me."  And  the  one  who  thus  returned  treachery 
for  love  and  pierced  his  Master's  soul  waa  Judas  Iscariot,  the  son 
of  Simon,  one  of  the  Twelve. 

H  The  nethermost  circle  [of  hell]  is  buried  in  the  heart  of  the 
earth  :  it  is  the  region  of  pitiless  cold :  every  spark  of  warm  love 
is  banished  from  this  spot  where  treachery  is  punished.  When 
the  false  heart  has  sold  itself  to  the  deceit  which  works  evil 
against  those  to  whom  it  is  bound  by  ties  of  blood  or  gratitude, 
love  flies  from  it.  In  such  a  chill  heart  pity  cannot  dwell ;  and. 
alas!  the  penalty  of  evil  is  to  place  itself  under  influences  which 

•59 


260  JUDAS  ISCARIOT 

tend  to  perpetuate  the  evil.  The  false,  cold  heart  dwells  where 
the  icy  blast  does  but  intensify  its  coldness;  the  breath  which 
beats  upon  it  freezes  all  it  touches.  This,  the  possession  of  a 
heart  out  of  which  love  has  perished,  is  the  last  doom  of  sin  ! 1 

1.  Now,  first  of  all,  observe  that  there  are  sayings  about  Judas 
which  might  seem  to  imply  that  his  part  in  life  was  forced  on  him 
by  an  inexorable  destiny.  St.  John  says  that  Jesus  knew  from  the 
beginning  who  should  betray  Him.  Our  Lord  asked  the  assembled 
Apostles  :  "  Have  not  I  chosen  you  the  twelve,  and  one  of  you  is  a 
devil  ? "  In  His  great  Intercession,  He  thus  addresses  the  Father : 
"  Those  that  thou  gavest  me  I  have  kept,  and  none  of  them  is  lost, 
but  the  son  of  perdition."  And  at  the  election  of  Matthias,  St. 
Peter  points  to  the  destiny  of  Judas  as  marked  out  in  prophecy : 
"His  bishoprick  let  another  take":  and  he  speaks  of  Judas  as 
going  to  "  his  own  place."  This  and  other  language  of  the  kind 
has  been  understood  to  represent  Judas  as  unable  to  avoid  his 
part  as  the  Betrayer :  and  the  sympathy  and  compassion  which  is 
thus  created  for  him  is  likely  to  blind  us  to  a  true  view  of  his 
unhappy  career. 

The  mistake  has  arisen  from  a  confusion  between  foreknow 
ledge  and  fore-ordaining.  We  know  of  many  things  that  will 
happen  to-morrow,  but  we  cannot  be  said  to  bring  them  to  pass. 
Further,  the  idea  that  our  Lord  allocated  to  Judas  the  part  of  the 
villain  in  the  crucifixion  drama  is  not  consistent  with  the  Master's 
constant  attitude  of  rebuke.  Had  Judas  been  predestined  to 
treachery,  and  had  he  had  no  choice  in  the  matter,  our  blessed 
Lord  would  surely  have  pitied  rather  than  blamed  him.  And  our 
feelings  towards  Judas  would  necessarily  be  very  different.  For 
if  we  offer  gratitude  and  praise  to  Him  who  by  a  perfect  life  and 
an  atoning  death  wrought  our  salvation,  what  should  be  our 
attitude  to  one  who,  by  the  compulsory  damnation  of  his  own 
soul,  contributed  to  the  saving  of  his  fellows  ?  Further,  with 
all  reverence  be  it  said,  God  Himself  would  have  no  right 
to  condemn  any  child  of  His  to  so  despicable  a  career.  The 
fate  of  the  traitor  was  the  choice  of  Judas  and  not  the  will  of 
God. 

The  truth  is  that  the  Bible  looks  at  human  lives  from  two 
very  different  and,  indeed,  opposite  points  of  view.  Sometimes  it 

1  W.  B.  Carpenter,  The  Spiritual  Message  of  Dante,  88. 


THE  APOSTLE  261 

regards  men  merely  as  factors  in  the  Divine  plan  for  governing 
the  world — for  bringing  about  results  determined  on  by  the 
Divine  Wisdom ;  and  when  this  is  the  case,  it  speaks  of  them  as 
though  they  had  no  personal  choice  or  control  of  their  destiny, 
and  were  only  counters  or  instruments  in  the  Hand  of  the  Mighty 
Ruler  of  the  Universe.  At  other  times  Holy  Scripture  regards 
men  as  free  agents,  endowed  with  a  choice  between  truth  and 
error,  between  right  and  wrong,  between  a  higher  and  a  lower  line 
of  conduct ;  and  then  it  enables  us  to  trace  the  connexion  between 
the  use  they  make  of  their  opportunities  and  their  final  destiny. 
Both  ways  of  looking  at  life  are,  of  course,  strictly  accurate.  On 
the  one  hand,  it  belongs  to  the  sovereignty  of  the  Almighty  and 
Eternal  Being,  that  we,  His  creatures,  should  be  but  tools  in  His 
Hands ;  on  the  other,  it  befits  His  justice  that  no  moral  being,  on 
probation,  should  suffer  eternal  loss  save  through  his  own  act  and 
choice.  The  language  of  Scripture  about  Pharaoh  illustrates  the 
two  points  of  view.  At  one  time  we  are  told  that  the  Lord 
hardened  Pharaoh's  heart,  that  he  would  not  let  the  children  of 
Israel  go;  at  another,  that  Pharaoh  hardened  his  own  heart. 
The  same  fact  is  looked  at,  first  from  the  point  of  view  of  wAat 
was  needed  in  order  to  bring  about  the  deliverance  of  Israel,  and 
next  from  the  point  of  view  of  Pharaoh's  personal  responsibility. 
St.  Paul  stands  at  one  point  of  view  in  the  ninth  chapter  of  his 
Epistle  to  the  Romans,  and  at  another  in  the  twelfth.  It  is  no 
doubt  difficult,  if  not  impossible,  with  our  present  limited  range 
of  knowledge,  to  reconcile  the  Divine  Sovereignty  in  the  moral 
world  with  the  moral  freedom  of  each  individual  man.  Some  of 
the  great  mistakes  in  Christian  theology  are  due  to  an  impatience 
of  this  difficulty.  Calvin  would  sacrifice  man's  freedom  to  the 
Sovereignty  of  God ;  Arminius  would  sacrifice  God's  Sovereignty 
to  the  assertion  of  man's  freedom.  We  cannot  hope  here  to 
discover  the  formula  that  combines  the  two  parallel  lines  of 
truth,  which  meet  somewhere  in  the  Infinite  beyond  our  point  of 
vision  ;  but  we  must  hold  fast  to  each  separately,  in  spite  of  the 
apparent  contradiction.  If  our  Lord,  looking  down  upon  our  life 
with  His  Divine  intelligence,  speaks  of  Judas,  once  and  again,  as 
an  instrument  whereby  the  redemption  of  the  world  was  to  be 
worked  out,  the  gospel  history  also  supplies  us  with  materials 
which  go  to  show  that  Judas  had  his  freedom  of  choice,  hia 


262  JUDAS  ISCARIOT 

opportunities,  his  warnings,  and   that  he  became  the  Betrayer 
because  he  chose  to  do  so. 

U  No  combination  of  all  the  natural  forces  in  the  planet  can 
vie  for  one  moment  with  the  potentialities  of  the  human  volition. 
In  its  secret  chamber  we  can  force  destinies.  The  combination  of 
freedom  and  necessity  that  goes  on  there  is  a  mystery  we  shall 
probably  never  explain.  The  nearest  approach  to  it,  perhaps,  is 
in  the  formula  of  Hegel :  "  It  is  only  as  we  are  in  ourselves  that 
we  can  develop  ourselves,  yet  is  it  we  ourselves  that  develop  our 
selves."  Despite  the  dense  sophistical  webs  that  have  been  woven 
round  this  subject,  man  has  always  believed  in  his  freedom.1 

2.  The  only  reasonable  account  of  the  choice  of  Judas  that  we 
can  form  is  this,  that  our  Lord  acted  by  Judas  as  He  did  by  all 
the  rest.  He  accepted  him  on  the  ground  of  a  profession  which 
was  consistent  as  far  as  human  eye  could  see.  Christ  Himself 
received  members  into  His  Church  as  He  intended  that  we  should 
receive  them ;  for,  had  He  used  His  Divine  omniscience  in  His 
judgments,  the  whole  structure  of  His  life  would  have  been  out 
of  our  reach  as  an  example.  Judas  accordingly  entered  among 
the  Apostles,  because,  in  all  outward  things,  and  even  in  some 
inward  convictions,  he  was  like  them.  He  came  under  the  same 
influences,  listened  to  the  same  invitations  and  warnings,  and  they 
were  meant  as  truly  for  Judas  as  for  the  rest.  It  would  have 
gladdened  the  heart  of  Christ  had  Judas  yielded  to  the  voice  of 
mercy.  It  is  not  any  question  for  us  how  then  the  Saviour  could 
have  suffered  for  the  sins  of  men,  any  more  than  it  is  a  question 
how  the  history  of  the  world  would  proceed  without  the  sinful 
deeds  which  are  permitted  by  God  and  gathered  by  Him  into  the 
final  result.  The  plan  of  the  universe,  in  its  lowest  or  its  highest 
part,  does  not  rest  on  the  doom  of  any  man  to  be  a  sinner.  God 
forbid !  There  are  manifold  doors  in  the  Divine  purpose  which 
God  may  open  or  shut  as  He  pleases,  but  there  is  one  always  shut 
—that  God  should  tempt  any  man  to  evil, — and  there  is  one  for 
ever  open — that  He  wills  not  the  death  of  the  sinner,  but  that  he 
should  turn  and  live.  Whatever  difficulties  may  be  in  these 
questions  of  freedom  and  decree,  we  can  never  permit  the  speck 
of  one  to  touch  the  Divine  purity  and  mercy.  If  Judas  had  come, 
he  would  have  been  welcomed  as  any  other. 

1  J.  Brierley. 


THE  APOSTLE  263 

If,  when  Judas  was  chosen  to  his  high  office,  his  heart  had 
been  already  cankered  with  avarice,  and  his  character  debased, 
then  indeed  the  difficulty  would  be  great ;  then  indeed  his 
selection  would  have  been  (we  cannot  think  the  thought  without 
irreverence)  a  solemn  unreality,  a  mere  dramatic  display.  But  we 
have  no  reason  to  suppose  this.  When  he  was  chosen,  he  was 
worthy  of  the  choice ;  he  was  not  a  bad  man ;  he  had,  we  must 
suppose,  considerable  capacity  for  good ;  there  was  in  him 
perhaps  the  making  of  a  St.  Peter  or  a  St.  John.  His  whole 
liistory  points  to  this  view  of  his  character.  Can  we  suppose 
that  he  alone  had  made  no  sacrifices,  suffered  no  privations,  met 
with  no  reproaches,  during  those  three  years,  in  which  through 
good  and  evil  report  he  followed  that  Master  who  was  despised 
and  rejected  of  men,  who  had  not  where  to  lay  His  head  ?  Can 
we  imagine  that  he  alone  had  given  no  pledges  of  his  earnestness, 
that  he  alone  escaped  the  bitter  consequences  of  discipleship,  that 
from  him  alone  Christ's  unpopularity  glanced  off  without  leaving 
a  bruise  or  a  scar  behind  ?  And  does  not  his  terrible  end  read 
the  same  lesson  ?  The  sudden  revulsion  of  feeling,  the  bitter 
remorse,  the  crushing  despair,  so  fatal  in  its  result,  show  what 
he  might  have  been,  if  certain  vile  passions  had  not  been  cher 
ished  in  him  till  they  had  eaten  out  all  his  better  nature.  And 
so  it  was  that  throughout  the  Lord's  ministry,  even  to  the  last 
fatal  moment,  he  seems  to  have  been  unsuspected  by  his  brother- 
Apostles,  moving  about  with  them,  trusted  by  them,  appearing 
outwardly  as  one  of  them.  On  that  night  when  the  Master 
announced  the  approaching  treachery,  each  asked  sorrowfully,  "  Is 
it  I  ? " — not  enduring  to  entertain  the  thought  of  himself,  and  yet 
not  daring  to  suspect  the  evil  in  another.  All  this  while  Judas 
was  on  his  trial,  as  we  are  on  our  trial.  He  was  selected  for  the 
Apostleship,  as  we  are  called  into  Church-membership.  But,  like 
us,  he  was  allowed  the  exercise  of  his  human  free  will ;  he  was 
not  compelled  by  an  irresistible  fate  to  act  worthily  of  his  calling ; 
he  was  free  to  make  his  election  between  good  and  evil;  he 
rejected  the  good,  and  he  chose  the  evil. 

H  Do  not  forget  that  Judas  was  once  a  little  child,  fondled 
and  cherished  by  those  who  loved  him.  His  mother  probably 
spoke  of  him  as  "dear  little  Judas."  He  was  not  always  the 
distracted  man  who  committed  suicide  in  despair: 


264  JUDAS  ISCAR1OT 

I   saw  a  Judas  once, 

It  was  an  old  man's  face.     Greatly  that  artist  erred. 

Judas  had  eyes  of  starry  blue, 

And  lips  like  thine  that  gave  the  traitor's  kiss.1 

If  Why  did  Jesus  choose  you  ?  Could  you  ever  make  out 
that  mystery?  Was  it.  because  of  your  respectability?  Was  it 
because  of  the  desirableness  of  your  companionship?  Was  it 
because  of  the  utter  absence  of  all  devilishness  in  your  nature  ? 
What  if  Judas  did  for  you  what  you  were  only  too  timid  to  do  for 
yourself  ?  The  Incarnation,  with  a  view  to  human  redemption, 
is  the  supreme  mystery ;  in  comparison  with  that,  every  other 
difficulty  is  as  a  molehill  to  a  mountain.  In  your  heart  of  hearts 
are  you  saying,  "  If  this  man  were  a  prophet,  he  would  know 
what  manner  of  man  this  Judas  is,  for  he  is  a  sinner  ? "  0  thou 
self -contented  Simon,  presently  the  Lord  will  have  somewhat  to 
say  unto  thee,  and  His  parable  will  smite  thee  like  a  sword.2 

3.  Let  us  recall  Christ's  method.  He  did  not  receive  recruits 
without  caution.  Take  the  case  of  the  young  and  wealthy  man 
who  sought  eternal  life.  Our  Lord  made  the  young  man  sift  his 
heart.  He  brought  him  to  the  test:  "Sell  all  that  thou  hast." 
It  is  a  picture  of  our  Lord's  method.  No  man  should  join  His 
band  under  any  mistake  if  possible.  Christ  sought  to  arm  with 
weapons  against  self-deception  those  who  volunteered  to  follow 
Him.  Above  all  things,  He  made  it  clear  that  riches  and  worldly 
wealth  were  not  to  be  looked  for  by  those  who  would  come  after 
Him.  The  incidents  recorded  in  the  close  of  Luke  ix.  are  enough 
to  convince  us  of  this.  "  A  certain  mai  (was  it  Judas  ?)  said  unto 
him,  I  will  follow  thee  whithersoever  thou  goest.  And  Jesus  said 
unto  him,  The  foxes  have  holes,  and  the  birds  of  the  heaven  have 
nests ;  but  the  Son  of  man  hath  not  where  to  lay  his  head."  No 
words  can  point  out  more  clearly  that  earthly  advantage  must 
neither  be  sought  nor  expected  by  those  who  would  follow  Him. 
If  the  certain  man  in  this  case  had  been  Judas,  full  of  speculative 
hopes  and  dreams  of  possible  wealth  and  splendour,  the  answer  of 
Christ  is  an  explicit  caution,  nay,  a  rebuke  of  any  such  anticipa 
tions  ;  but  whether  this  "  certain  man  "  was  Judas  or  not,  it  is 
enough  to  remind  ourselves  that  our  Lord's  method  was  to  place 

1  .1.  E.  Rattunliury,  TJie  Twelve,  288. 
1  Joseph  Parker,  The  Ark  of  God,  43. 


THE  APOSTLE  265 

before  those  who  sought  Him  the  need  of  complete  self-surrender, 
and  the  banishing  of  worldly  dreams  and  futile  expectations  of 
temporal  glories.  Not  unwarned  then  (we  may  well  conclude)  did 
Judas  attach  himself  to  Christ's  company. 

Judas  must  once  have  had  real  faith  in  the  Lord  Jesus ;  for 
he,  like  the  other  Apostles,  healed  the  sick  and  cast  out  devils  in 
His  Name;  he  preached  that  men  should  repent,  and  there  is  not 
a  hint  that  he  preached  it  less  sincerely  or  less  effectively  than 
the  rest.  And  more  than  that — he  had  left  his  home  and  all  that 
he  had,  like  the  other  Apostles,  and  it  is  scarcely  possible  that  he 
should  have  done  so  unless  he  had,  at  the  time,  real  love,  as 
well  aa  faith,  toward  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  Who  would  have 
guessed  that  he  who  had  made  such  a  sacrifice  would  ever  fall 
through  covetousness  ?  Who  would  have  thought  it  possible  that 
such  a  saint  could  become  a  devil  ? 

^|  If  thou  hast  dipped  thy  foot  in  the  brink,  yet  venture  not 
over  Rubicon.  Run  not  into  extremities  from  whence  there  is  no 
regression.  In  the  vicious  ways  of  the  world,  it  mercifully  falleth 
out  that  we  become  not  extempore  wicked,  but  it  taketh  some 
time  and  pains  to  undo  ourselves.  We  fall  not  from  virtue,  like 
Vulcan  from  heaven,  in  a  day.  Bad  dispositions  require  some 
time  to  grow  into  bad  habits ;  bad  habits  must  undermine  the 
good ;  and  often-repeated  acts  make  us  habitually  evil ;  so  that 
by  gradual  depravations,  and  while  we  are  but  staggeringly  evil, 
we  are  not  left  without  thoughtful  rebukes,  and  merciful  inter 
ventions,  to  recall  us  unto  ourselves,1 

4.  Let  us  conceive,  then,  a  devout  and  patriotic  young  Jew, 
his  hands  busy  all  the  week  with  honourable  toil,  his  heart  full  of 
a  fervent  and  honourable  ambition  to  see  Messiah  in  His  glory, 
and  Jerusalem  once  more  a  praise  in  the  earth.  And  what 
should  that  Messiah  be  ?  Surely  the  hero  who  reigned  in  the 
visions  of  a  thousand  other  patriotic  hearts — a  mighty  warrior  to 
sit  on  the  throne  of  David,  and  rule  with  empire  that  should 
crush  as  dust  the  iron  power  of  Rome.  Human,  of  course,  he 
would  be,  and  less  than  David ;  for  to  the  Jew  it  was  irreverent 
to  imagine  that  the  glory  of  the  canonized  past  could  ever  be 
matched  in  the  present,  or  that  God  could  ever  do  again  what  He 
hart  done  so  often  before.  Antiquity  alone  was  quite  enough  to 

1  Sir  Thoiiiaa  Browue,  Christian  Morals,  104. 


266  JUDAS  ISCARIOT 

invest  those  distant  ages  with  grandeur  altogether  unapproachable 
in  later  and  therefore  inferior  ages.  Yet  even  within  these  limits 
there  was  room  enough  for  a  grand  and  soul-inspiring  ideal ;  and 
we  have  at  any  rate  no  right  to  blame  Judas  and  Peter  and  Philip 
if,  in  the  fervour  of  patriotism,  they  forgot  that  six  centuries  ago 
a  prophet  had  declared  their  ideal  a  "  light  thing  "  compared  with 
the  work  which  the  Servant  of  Jehovah  was  in  real  fact  to  do. 
How  far  worldly  and  personal  thoughts  at  first  mingled  with 
Judas's  visions  we  cannot  say.  To  fight  his  way  to  the  front  in 
the  army  of  the  conqueror  of  the  nations,  to  take  an  honourable 
place  in  his  councils,  to  share  in  the  spoils  he  should  wring  from 
proud  kings  and  warrior  peoples — was  it  really  such  a  degrading 
ambition?  We  do  not  use  abusive  names  of  a  very  similar 
ambition  when  we  see  it  now  in  a  young  enthusiast  who  enters 
his  profession  with  a  conviction  that  there  is  glory  to  be  won  in 
it ;  and  we  do  not  always  pour  lofty  scorn  on  him  if  he  conceives 
the  ignoble  idea  of  making  his  fortune  as  well.  The  wrong  of 
such  an  ambition  comes  only  when  a  higher  is  presented  and  the 
soul  chooses  what,  till  that  higher  ambition  came,  was  noble,  but 
has  now  lost  its  lustre  and  become  a  sordid  thing. 

No  doubt  he  shared  with  his  fellow-Apostles  in  the  great 
hopes  of  a  kingdom,  of  that  kingdom  which  David's  Son  and 
Israel's  King  should  establish.  But  the  fatal  difference  between 
him  and  them  was  this — they,  in  the  presence  and  under  the 
teaching  of  their  Lord,  suffered  these  expectations  to  be  trans 
formed  and  transfigured  from  earthly  to  heavenly.  Translated 
by  their  Lord  into  a  new  world  of  righteousness  and  purity  and 
truth,  of  fellowship  with  Him  and  through  Him  with  the  Father, 
that  was  indeed  a  kingdom  to  them,  a  kingdom  which  should  one 
day  immeasurably  transcend  even  in  outward  splendour  all  the 
kingdoms  of  the  earth,  but  for  the  outward  glories  of  which  they 
were  content  to  wait.  Not  so  he.  The  kingdom  of  One  who  had 
not  where  to  lay  his  head,  who  was  not  ministered  unto,  but 
laboriously  ministered  to  others,  whom  the  princes  of  this  world 
rejected  and  despised — that  was  no  kingdom  to  him. 

K  It  was  certain,  and  is  so  for  ever,  that  such  Righteousness 
as  Jesus  set  forth  must  be  the  essential  requirement  for  admit 
tance  into  God's  Eternal  Kingdom.  Into  it  no  sin  can  enter.  The 
very  existence  of  the  perfected  Kingdom  depends  on  the  exclusion 


THE  APOSTLE  267 

from  it  of  all  that  is  evil,  self-seeking,  or  unloving.  Admit  sin, 
and  not  only  does  all  security  for  blessedness  disappear,  but  the 
Kingdom  itself,  as  the  Kingdom  of  God,  has  no  longer  any  exist 
ence.  It  is  not  only  that  the  Righteousness  of  God  decrees  this, 
but  that  His  Love  for  His  children  requires  it.  The  Kingdom  of 
God  as  the  final  goal  of  man  is  a  society,  and  in  that  society 
perfect  Love  must  rule — not  only  Love  for  God,  but  for  one 
another — Love  itself — the  Love  that  God  is — such  practical  Love 
as  Christ  pictured  in  His  teaching  and  set  forth  in  His  Person. 
Apart  from  the  reign  of  such  Love,  there  can  be  no  eternal 
blessedness  for  God's  children,  and  no  real  Kingdom  of  God  their 
Father.1 

When  Lazarus  rose  at  Christ's  command 

And  God  was  glorified  of  men, 

The  children  cried  Hosanna  then, 
But  Judas  would  not  understand. 

When  seated  with  Thy  chosen  band 
Thou  didst  to  Thy  disciples  say 
That  one,  0  Christ,  would  Thee  betray, 

But  Judas  would  not  understand. 

The  sop  revealed  the  traitor's  hand, 

In  answer  to  the  question  made ; 

They  saw  by  whom  Thou  wert  betrayed, 
But  Judas  would  not  understand. 

The  Jews,  0  Christ,  Thy  life  demand, 
'Twas  purchased  for  a  price  like  this — 
For  silver  pieces  and  a  kiss, 

But  Judas  would  not  understand. 

Thou,  with  Thine  own  unstained  hand, 
Didst  wash  the  feet,  and  humbly  teach 
That  such  a  task  becometh  each, 

But  Judas  would  not  understand. 

"Watch  thou  and  pray,"  was  Thy  command, 
Lest,  thoughtless,  the  disciples  fall 
Beneath  the  tempter's  bitter  thrall ; 

But  Judas  would  not  understand.* 

1  W.  L.  Walker,  Tht  Crost  and  the  Kingdom,  187. 
»  J.  Bro wiilie,  Uymnt  of  the  Greek  Church,  41. 


268  JUDAS  ISCARIOT 

5.  The  choice  of  one  who  subsequently  fell  is  analogous  with 
all  the  ways  of  God.  Other  ambassadors  of  Christ  have  fallen. 
In  every  age  men  have  been  endowed  with  mighty  powers  of 
genius  and  with  vast  resources,  and  yet  their  free  will  has  not 
been  cancelled.  The  marvellous  brain  of  Napoleon  could  have 
permanently  elevated  all  Europe  if  he  had  only  been  true  to  what 
is  called  one's  better  self,  and  yet  he  was  not  coerced.  It 
remained  open  to  Napoleon  to  drown  the  civilized  world  in  blood, 
to  compromise  the  future  of  history,  and  permanently  to  degrade 
the  political  aspirations  of  Frenchmen,  by  the  abuse  of  powers 
which  God,  having  given,  did  not  paralyze.  Nay,  the  meanest 
who  rejects  salvation  has  a  soul  for  which  Christ  died ;  and  that 
universal  privilege,  vastly  greater  than  all  special  gifts  which  may 
be  superadded,  does  not  ensure  heaven.  Doubtless  the  treason  of 
Judas  remains  unmatched  in  turpitude,  but  it  is  not  in  kind  that 
it  differs  from  many  more ;  and  sober  commentators  have  believed 
that  his  guilt  is  yet  to  be  overtopped  by  the  "  lawless  one "  of 
the  last  time. 

If  the  further  question  is  asked  why  Judas  was  entrusted  with 
the  purse,  we  may  answer  that  when  Judas  was  alienated  and 
unfaithful  in  heart,  his  very  gift  became  also  his  greatest  tempta 
tion,  and,  indeed,  hurried  him  to  his  ruin.  And  so,  as  ever  in  like 
circumstances,  the  very  things  which  might  have  been  most  of 
blessing  become  most  of  curse,  and  the  judgment  of  hardening 
fulfils  itself  by  that  which  in  itself  is  good.  Nor  could  "  the  bag  " 
have  been  afterwards  taken  from  him  without  both  exposing  him 
to  the  others,  and  precipitating  his  moral  destruction.  And  so  he 
had  to  be  left  to  the  process  of  inward  ripening,  till  all  was  ready 
for  the  sickle. 

II  Every  power  that  is  put  into  action  goes  on  to  a  determined 
limit  assigned  by  God.  His  judgments  are  not  judgments  that 
wait  like  thunderbolts  under  His  throne  ready  to  dart  forth  when 
He  shall  command ;  but  they  are  accumulating  in  the  soul  of 
every  man  in  the  relation  in  which  every  man  stands  to  his 
fellow-men.  Every  event  which  is  going  to  happen  to  you  next 
week,  every  coming  event  is  prepared  for  by  your  inmost  thought 
and  interest  for  months  and  years  past.  God's  judgments  are 
instantaneous,  present,  growing.1 

TI  The  hardening  effects  of  sin,  which  save  from  pain,  are 
1  W.  H.  Channing. 


THE  APOSTLE  269 

worse  judgments  than  the  sharpest  suffering.  Anguish  is,  I  am 
more  and  more  sure,  corrective ;  hardness  has  in  it  no  Hope. 
Which  would  you  choose  if  you  were  compelled  to  make  a  choice  ? 
— the  torture  of  a  dividing  limb  granulating  again,  and  by  the 
very  torture  giving  indications  of  life,  or  the  painlessness  of 
mortification ;  the  worst  throb  from  the  surgeon's  knife,  or  ossifica 
tion  of  the  heart  ?  In  the  spiritual  world  the  pangs  of  the  most 
exquisite  sensitiveness  cut  to  the  quick  by  the  sense  of  fault  and 
aching  almost  hopelessly,  but  leaving  conscience  still  alive,  and 
aspiration  still  uncrushed,  or  the  death  of  every  remnant  of  what 
is  good,  the  ossification  of  the  soul,  the  painless  extinction  of  the 
moral  being,  its  very  self  ? 1 

Thou  knowest,  Lord!     Thou  know'st  my  life's  deep  story, 

And  all  the  mingled  good  and  ill  I  do! 
Thou  see'st  my  shame;  my  few  stray  gleams  of  glory; 

Where  I  am  false  and  where  my  soul  rings  true  ! 

Like  warp  and  woof  the  good  and  ill  are  blended, 

Nor  do  I  see  the  pattern  that  I  weave; 
Yet  in  Thy  love  the  whole  is  comprehended, 

And  in  Thy  hand  my  future  lot  I  leave! 

Only,  dear  Lord !  make  plain  the  path  of  duty ; 

Let  not  my  shame  and  sorrow  weigh  me  down, 
Lest  in  despair  I  fail  to  see  its  beauty, 

And  weeping  vainly  miss  the  victor's  crown!1 

1  Lift  and  Ltlttri  of  the  Hev.  F.  W.  KvUrtwni.,  238.  J  H.  W.  HawlcM. 


JUDAS  ISCARIOTe 

III. 
THE  TRAITOR. 


LITERATURE. 

Ainger,  A.,  The  Gospel  and  Human  Life  (1904),  226. 

Ainsworth,  P.  C.,  The  Pilgrim  Church,  52. 

Austin,  A.  B.,  Linked  Lives  (1913),  97. 

Blakiston,  F.  M.,  The  Life  of  Christ,  ii.  (1913)  276. 

Bruce,  A.  B.,  The  Training  of  the  Twelve  (1871),  371. 

Burn,  A.  E.,  The  Crown  of  Thorns  (1911),  1. 

Carpenter,  W.  B.,  The  Son  of  Man  among  the  Sons  of  Men  (1893),  03. 

Davies,  D.,  Talks  with  Men,  Women  and  Children,  iv.  (1892)  599. 

Dawson,  W.  J.,  The  Man  Christ  Jesus  (1901),  358. 

De  Quincey,  T.,  Collected  Writings,  viii.  (1897)  177. 

Edersheim,  A.,  The  Life  and  Times  of  Jesus  the  Messiah,  ii.  (1887)  471. 

Fairbairn,  A.  M.,  Studies  in  the  Life  of  Christ  (1881),  258. 

Holtzmann,  0.,  The  Life  of  Jesus  (1904),  457. 

Ingram,  A.  F.  W.,  Addresses  in  Holy  Week  (1902),  1. 

Jones,  J.  D.,  The  Glorious  Company  of  the  Apostles  (1904),  239. 

Ker,  J.,  Sermow,  i.  (1885)  282. 

Killip,  R.,  Citizens  of  the  Universe  (1914),  207. 

Liddon,  H.  P.,  Passiontide  Sermons  (1891),  210. 

Lightfoot,  J.  B.,  Sermons  Preached  in  St.  Paul's  Cathedral  (1891),  58. 

Lorimer,  G.  C.,  Jesus  the  World's  Saviour  (1883),  210. 

Maclaren,  A.,  The  Wearied  Christ  (1893),  286. 

Moulton,  J.  H.,  Visions  of  Sin  (1898),  93. 

Neander,  A.,  The  Life  of  Jesus  Christ  (1880),  123,  419. 

Peck,  Q.  C.,  Ringing  Questions  (1902),  201. 

Rattenbury,  J.  E.,  The  Twelve  (1914),  285. 

Salmon,  Q.,  Cathedral  and  University  Sermons  (1900),  88. 

Simpson,  P.  C.,  in  Men  of  the  New  Testament  :  Matthew  to  Timothy 

(1905),  205. 

Stalker,  J.,  The  Trial  and  Death  of  Jesus  Christ  (1894),  110. 
Stephen,  R.,  Divine  and  Human  Influence,  i.  (1897)  187. 
Stevenson,  J.  G.,  The  Judges  of  Jesus  (1909),  1. 
Wakinahaw,  W.,  John's  Ideal  City  (1915),  122. 
Whately,  R.,  Dangers  to  Christian  Faith  (1857),  213. 
Dictionary  of  Christ  and  the  Gospels,  i.  (1906)  907  (J.  G.  Tasker). 
Expositor,  3rd  Ser.,  x.  (1889)  161  (G.  A.  Chadwick). 
Literary  Churchman,  xxvii.  (1881)  130  (C.  Marriott). 
Preacher's  Magazine,  xxiv.  (1913)  197  (E.  S.  Waterhouse). 


•7* 


THE  TRAITOR. 

Verily,    verily,     I    say   unto   you,    that   one   of  you   sh-.ll    betray   me. 
John  xiii.  21. 

JUDAS  is  one  of  the  standing  moral  problems  of  the  gospel  history. 
What  was  the  character  of  the  man  ?  What  motives  induced  him 
first  to  seek  and  then  to  forsake  the  society  of  Jesus  ?  Why  did 
he  turn  traitor  ?  Why  was  he  so  little  penetrated  by  the  spirit 
and  awed  by  the  authority  of  Christ  as  to  be  able  to  do  as  he  did  ? 
And  why,  having  done  it,  did  he  so  swiftly  and  tragically  avenge 
on  himself  his  deliberately  planned  and  executed  crime  ?  These 
questions  invest  the  man  with  a  fascination  now  of  horror  and 
now  of  pity ;  of  horror  at  the  crime,  of  pity  for  the  man.  If  his 
deed  stands  alone  among  the  evil  deeds  of  the  world,  so  does  his 
remorse  among  the  acts  and  atonements  of  conscience ;  and  the 
remorse  is  more  expressive  of  the  man  than  even  the  deed. 
Lavater  said,  "Judas  acted  like  Satan,  but  like  a  Satan  who  had 
it  in  him  to  be  an  apostle."  And  it  is  this  evolution  of  a  possible 
apostle  into  an  actual  Satan  that  is  at  once  so  touching  and  so 
tragic. 

^|  In  the  Vision  of  Hell  the  poet  Dante,  after  traversing  the 
circles  of  the  universe  of  woe,  in  which  each  separate  kind  of 
wickedness  receives  its  peculiar  punishment,  arrives  at  last,  in  the 
company  of  his  guide,  at  the  nethermost  circle  of  all,  in  the  very 
bottom  of  the  pit,  where  the  worst  of  all  sinners  and  the  basest  of 
all  sins  are  undergoing  retribution.  It  is  a  lake  not  of  tire  but  of 
ice,  beneath  whose  transparent  surface  are  visible,  tixed  in  painful 
postures,  the  figures  of  those  who  have  betrayed  their  benefactors ; 
because  this,  in  Dante's  estimation,  is  the  worst  of  sins.  In  the 
midst  of  them  stands  out,  vast  and  hideous,  "  the  emperor  who 
sways  the  realm  of  woe  " — Satan  himself ;  for  this  was  the  crime 
which  lost  him  Paradise.  Arid  the  next  most  conspicuous  figure 
is  Judas  Iscariot.  He  is  in  the  mouth  of  Satan,  being  champed 
and  torn  by  his  teeth  as  in  a  ponderous  engine.1 

1  J    Stalker,   Tke  Trial  and  Dtaih.  oj  Jctus  Christ,  UQ, 
MARY-SIMON — 18 


274  JUDAS  ISCARIOT 

L 
WAS  His  CONDUCT  SATANIC? 

1.  This  is  not  a  belief  held  by  modern  scholars.  But  there 
are  good  writers  who  take  the  statement  that  "after  the  sop 
Satan  entered  into  him  "  almost  literally.  "  The  kingdom  of  evil," 
says  Dr.  John  Ker,  "  as  well  as  that  of  good,  has  a  personal  head. 
That  he  should  have  the  power  of  tempting  is  no  more  strange 
than  that  human  spirits  should  possess  it.  He  can  no  more  compel 
than  they,  and  he  gains  in  influence  only  as  we  yield  him  place. 
The  experience  of  many  temptations  points  to  such  a  power  ID 
operation.  There  is  a  halo  cast  round  worldly  objects  and  a  glow 
of  passionate  attractiveness  breathed  into  them,  which  are  not  in 
themselves,  and  which  can  scarcely  come  from  the  mind  that  looks 
on  them.  Crimes  are  committed  and  souls  bartered  for  such 
miserable  bribes  that  to  the  rational  spectator  it  is  utterly 
unnatural,  and  the  man  himself  wonders  at  it  when  the  delirium 
is  past.  Our  great  dramatic  poet  has  seized  this  feature  of  sin— 
this  strange  residuum  in  temptation,  which  indicates  an  extra- 
human  agency, — and  has  set  it  down  to  those  unseen  powers  of 
evil  which  '  palter  with  us  in  a  double  sense.'  It  does  not  diminish 
any  man's  responsibility,  but  it  should  increase  his  vigilance.  Not 
only  are  these  powers  unable  to  constrain  the  will,  but  they  have  no 
influence  of  seduction,  no  delusive  atmosphere  at  command,  where 
the  heart  has  not  prepared  for  it,  by  cherishing  the  sin  long  and 
deeply." 

"  Judas  was  in  truth,"  says  Dr.  W.  J.  Dawson,  "  a  man  demented. 
His  jealous  passion  had  swollen  into  such  force  that  he  was  no 
longer  capable  of  sober  reason.  He  was  mad  with  resentment, 
anger,  and  despair :  the  dream  of  his  life  was  shattered,  and  the 
spirit  of  revenge  had  become  his  only  guide.  This  is  certainly 
the  most  charitable,  and  it  is  the  most  probable,  view  of  his 
subsequent  behaviour.  From  the  moment  when  he  seeks  the 
priests  to  the  bitter  last  act  of  the  appalling  tragedy,  we  are 
dealing  with  a  madman,  capable  of  a  madman's  cunning,  and 
passing  through  paroxysms  of  frantic  rage  to  the  final  paroxysm 
of  frantic  grief  and  ineffectual  remorse." 


THE  TRAITOR  275 

2.  But  terrible  as  the  crime  was  which  Judas  committed,  and 
however  we  may  attribute  it  to  Satanic  influence,  we  must  be 
careful  not  to  think  of  him  as  a  solitary  monster.  Men  of  his 
type  are  by  no  means  so  rare  as  some  may  imagine.  History, 
sacred  and  profane,  supplies  numerous  examples  of  them,  playing 
an  important  part  in  human  affairs.  Balaam,  who  had  the  vision 
of  a  prophet  and  the  soul  of  a  miser,  was  such  a  man.  Robespierre, 
the  evil  genius  of  the  French  Revolution,  was  another.  The  man 
who  sent  thousands  to  the  guillotine  had  in  his  younger 
days  resigned  his  office  as  a  provincial  judge  because  it  was 
against  his  conscience  to  pronounce  sentence  of  death  on  a  culprit 
found  guilty  of  a  capital  offence.  A  third  example,  more  remark 
able  than  either,  may  be  found  in  the  famous  Greek  Alcibiades, 
who,  to  unbounded  ambition,  unscrupulousness,  and  licentiousness 
united  a  warm  attachment  to  the  greatest  and  best  of  the  Greeks. 
The  man  who  in  after  years  betrayed  the  cause  of  his  native  city, 
and  went  over  to  the  side  of  her  enemies,  was  in  his  youth  an 
enthusiastic  admirer  and  disciple  of  Socrates.  How  he  felt 
towards  the  Athenian  sage  may  be  gathered  from  words  put  into 
his  mouth  by  Plato  in  one  of  his  dialogues — words  which  involun 
tarily  suggest  a  parallel  between  the  speaker  and  the  unworthy 
follower  of  a  greater  than  Socrates:  "I  experienced  towards  this 
man  alone  (Socrates)  what  no  one  would  believe  me  capable  of : 
a  sense  of  shame.  For  I  am  conscious  of  an  inability  to  contradict 
him,  and  decline  to  do  what  he  bids  me  ;  and  when  I  go  away,  I 
feel  myself  overcome  by  the  desire  of  popular  esteem.  Therefore 
I  flee  from  him,  and  avoid  him.  But  when  I  see  him,  I  am 
ashamed  of  my  admissions,  and  oftentimes  I  would  be  glad  if  he 
ceased  to  exist  among  the  living ;  and  yet  I  know  well,  that  were 
that  to  happen,  I  should  be  still  more  grieved." 

T|  By  the  open  door  out  of  which  he  had  thrust  the  dying 
Christ  "  Satan  entered  into  Judas."  Yet,  even  so,  not  permanently. 
It  may,  indeed,  be  doubted,  whether,  since  God  is  in  Christ,  such 
can  ever  be  the  case  in  any  human  soul,  at  least  on  this  side 
eternity.  Since  our  world's  night  has  been  lit  up  by  the  promise 
from  Paradise,  the  rosy  hue  of  its  morning  has  lain  on  the  edge 
of  the  horizon,  deepening  into  gold,  brightening  into  day,  grow 
ing  into  midday-strength  and  evening-glory.  Since  God's  Voice 
wakened  earth  by  ite  early  Christmas-Hymn,  it  has  never  been 


276  JUDAS  ISCARIOT 

quite  night  there,  nor  can  it  ever  be  quite  night  in  any  human 
soul.1 

II. 

WAS  His  CONDUCT  PATRIOTIC  ? 

1.  Ours  is  an  age  of  toleration,  and  one  of  its  favourite 
occupations  is  the  rehabilitation  of  evil  reputations.  Men  and 
women  who  have  stood  for  centuries  in  the  pillory  of  history  are 
being  taken  down ;  their  cases  are  retried ;  and  they  are  set  up 
on  pedestals  of  admiration.  Sometimes  this  is  done  with  justice, 
but  in  other  cases  it  has  been  carried  to  absurdity.  Nobody,  it 
would  appear,  has  ever  been  very  bad ;  the  criminals  and 
scoundrels  have  been  men  whose  motives  have  been  misunder 
stood.  Among  those  on  whose  behalf  the  attempt  has  thus  been 
made  to  reverse  the  verdict  of  history  is  Judas  Iscariot.  Eighteen 
centuries  had  agreed  to  regard  him  as  the  meanest  of  mankind, 
but  in  our  century  he  has  been  transmuted  into  a  kind  of  hero. 
The  theory  is  of  German  origin  ;  but  it  was  presented  to  the 
English  public  by  De  Quincey. 

Archbishop  Whately  put  forward  a  theory  similar  to  that  of 
De  Quincey.  Judas  was  one  who,  believing  in  our  Lord's  power, 
sought  to  put  Him  in  a  position  in  which  He  would  be  compelled 
to  exercise  it  in  some  startling,  unique,  and  triumphant  way.  It 
never,  according  to  this  view,  occurred  to  Judas  that  our  Lord 
would  submit  to  arrest  or  death ;  in  putting  Him,  by  an  act  of 
betrayal,  into  danger,  he  gave  Him  the  opportunity  (which  he 
never  doubted  would  be  used)  of  confounding  His  enemies.  Such 
an  opportunity  was  wanting ;  nay,  Judas  may  even  have  believed 
that  our  Lord  desired  such  an  opportunity ;  the  disciple  read  his 
Master's  wishes  and  created  the  opportunity  which  he  believed 
his  Master  would  welcome  and  use. 

But  no  theory  of  the  kind  can  be  maintained.  The  facts  are 
against  it.  If,  knowing  the  supernatural  powers  of  Jesus,  he  had 
no  fears  that  He  could  suffer  evil  from  the  hands  of  His  enemies, 
and  delivered  Him  into  the  power  of  the  Jewish  authorities  in 
order  that  He  might  be  forced  to  assert  His  Messianic  claims, 
why  should  he  bargain  with  them  for  thirty  pieces  of  silver  ?  He 
1  A.  Edersheim,  The  Life  ound  Time*  of  Jcsua  the  Messiah,  ii.  471. 


THE  TRAITOR  277 

could  in  many  ways  have  accomplished  this  end,  without  taking 
the  attitude  of  a  traitor.  The  statements  of  the  Evangelists  about 
his  covenant  with  the  chief  priests,  his  conduct  at  the  arrest,  his 
return  of  the  money,  the  words  of  Peter  respecting  him,  and 
especially  the  words  of  the  Lord,  "  Good  were  it  for  that  man  if 
he  had  not  been  born,"  conclusively  show  that  he  sinned,  not 
through  a  mere  error  of  judgment,  while  at  heart  hoping  to 
advance  the  interests  of  his  Master,  but  with  deliberate  perfidy, 
designing  to  compass  His  ruin. 

K  The  deed  of  Judas  has  been  attributed  to  far-reaching  views, 
and  the  wish  to  hasten  his  Master's  declaration  of  Himself  as  the 
Messiah.  Perhaps — I  will  not  maintain  the  contrary — Judas 
represented  his  wishes  in  this  way,  and  felt  justified  in  his 
traitorous  kiss ;  but  my  belief  that  he  deserved,  metaphorically 
speaking,  to  be  where  Dante  saw  him,  at  the  bottom  of  the 
Malebolge,  would  not  be  the  less  strong  because  he  was  not 
convinced  that  his  action  was  detestable.  I  refuse  to  accept  a 
man  who  has  the  stomach  for  such  treachery  as  a  hero  impatient 
for  the  redemption  of  mankind  and  for  the  beginning  of  a  reign 
when  the  kisses  shall  be  those  of  peace  and  righteousness.1 

2.  Nor  can  it  be  pleaded  that  Judas  acted  merely  as  a  dis 
appointed  enthusiast.  All  the  disciples  were  disappointed  en 
thusiasts,  but  only  he  sought  revenge  on  Christ  by  betraying  Him. 
It  is  sometimes  said  that  the  sin  of  Peter  in  denying  his  Lord  was 
scarcely  less  than  that  of  Judas  in  betraying  Him ;  but  the  sins 
were  totally  different  in  quality  and  nature.  Any  man,  under  the 
extreme  pressure  of  danger  or  temptation,  may  deny  the  con 
victions  that  are  really  dear  to  him ;  but  there  is  a  gulf  as  wide 
as  the  world  between  such  denial  and  deliberate  betrayal.  The 
most  heroic  of  men  in  some  hour  of  utter  darkness  may  sign  his 
retraction  of  a  truth  as  Cranmer  did,  and  afterwards  may  nobly 
expiate  his  crime  as  Cranmer  did,  by  thrusting  his  unworthy  hand 
into  the  martyr  tlame ;  that  is  weakness  of  the  will ;  it  is  failure 
of  courage,  but  it  is  not  deliberate  betrayal.  But  in  all  the 
closing  acts  of  .Judas  it  is  the  deliberation  of  his  wickedness  that 
is  so  dreadful.  Kvery  step  is  studied ;  every  move  is  calculated. 
He  works  out  his  plot  with  a  steadfast  eye,  an  unflinching  hand. 
He  will  not  stir  till  he  is  sure  of  his  compact ;  he  studies  with 

1  George  Eliot,  Imprttt'wnt  of  Thto^hrcutut  .S'ucA. 


278  JUDAS  ISCARIOT 

astute  intelligence  the  hour  and  place  of  his  crime ;  all  is  as 
planned  and  orderly  as  the  strategy  of  some  great  battle.  Had 
he  broken  utterly  from  Christ  in  the  moment  when  he  went  over 
to  the  side  of  the  priests,  we  might  at  least  have  pitied  him,  and, 
in  part,  respected  him.  We  might  have  numbered  him  with 
those  misguided  patriots  who,  from  motives  which  are  tortuously 
honest,  burn  the  idols  they  had  once  adored.  But  Judas  does  not 
take  this  course.  It  is  an  essential  part  of  his  hideous  compact 
with  the  priests  that  he  must  play  the  part  of  the  loyal  friend  of 
Jesus  to  the  last.  He  moves  upon  his  road  toward  tragic  infamy 
without  compunction,  without  one  backward  thought,  without  a 
single  pang  of  pity  or  of  old  affection.  The  most  vivid  touch  in 
the  appalling  picture  is  the  smile  with  which  he  asks  his  Master, 
who  has  just  declared  His  knowledge  that  He  will  be  betrayed — 
"  Lord,  is  it  I  ? "  Judas  knows  in  that  moment  that  Christ  is 
perfectly  aware  of  his  conspiracy,  and  yet  he  says,  "  Is  it  I  ? "  He 
is  so  sure  of  success,  so  confident  that  it  is  no  longer  in  the  power 
of  the  heavy-hearted  Galilaean  to  thwart  his  scheme,  that  he  can 
mock  Him  with  the  insult, "  Is  it  I  ? "  Morally  cold,  intellectually 
astute,  and  now  filled  with  the  deliberate  madness  of  revenge,  it 
is  little  wonder  that  the  world  has  discerned  in  this  hard,  im 
penetrable  wickedness  of  Judas  a  sin  beyond  forgiveness,  in  which 
no  germ  of  renovating  good  can  be  discerned. 

U  Caesar  defended  himself  till  the  dagger  of  a  friend  pierced 
him ;  then  in  indignant  grief  he  covered  his  head  with  his  mantle 
and  accepted  his  fate.  You  can  forgive  the  open  blow  of  a 
declared  enemy  against  whom  you  are  on  your  guard;  but  the 
man  that  lives  with  you  on  terms  of  the  greatest  intimacy  for 
years,  so  that  he  learns  your  ways  and  habits,  the  state  of  your 
affairs  and  your  past  history — the  man  whom  you  so  confide  in 
and  like  that  you  communicate  to  him  freely  much  that  you  keep 
hidden  from  others,  and  who,  while  still  professing  friendship, 
uses  the  information  he  has  gained  to  blacken  your  character  and 
ruin  your  peace,  to  injure  your  family  or  damage  your  business, — 
this  man,  you  know,  has  much  to  repent  of.1 

1  M.  Dods,  The  Gospel  of  St.  John,  ii.  97. 


THE  TRAITOR  279 


III. 

WHAT  WERE  His  MOTIVES? 

Judas  is  to  be  regarded  neither  as  simply  Satan  incarnate  nor 
as  merely  a  disappointed  patriot.  There  were  several  motives  at 
work,  all  on  the  level  of  ordinary  humanity. 

1.  The  leading  motive  was  probably  avarice.  This  is,  at  any 
rate,  the  most  obvious  motive.  "  There  is  no  vice,"  says  Farrar, 
"  at  once  so  absorbing,  so  unreasonable,  and  so  degrading  as  the 
vice  of  avarice,  and  avarice  was  the  besetting  sin  in  the  dark  soul 
of  the  traitor  Judas." 

Avarice  is  one  of  the  most  powerful  of  motives.  In  the 
teaching  of  the  pulpit  it  may  seldom  be  noticed,  but  both  in 
Scripture  and  in  history  it  occupies  a  prominent  place.  It  is 
questionable  if  anything  else  is  the  cause  of  so  many  ill  deeds 
Avarice  breaks  all  the  commandments.  Often  has  it  put  the 
weapon  into  the  hand  of  the  murderer ;  in  most  countries  of 
the  world  it  has  in  every  age  made  the  ordinary  business  of 
the  market-place  a  warfare  of  falsehood ;  the  bodies  of  men  and 
the  hearts  of  women  have  been  sold  for  gold.  Why  is  it  that 
gigantic  wrongs  flourish  from  age  to  age,  and  practices  utterly 
indefensible  are  continued  with  the  overwhelming  sanction  of 
society  ?  It  is  because  there  is  money  in  them.  Avarice  is  a 
passion  of  demonic  strength ;  but  it  may  help  us  to  keep  it  out 
of  our  hearts  if  we  remember  that  it  was  the  sin  of  Judas. 

^[  We  do  great  injustice  to  Iscariot  in  thinking  him  wicked 
above  all  common  wickedness.  He  was  only  a  common  money- 
lover,  and,  like  all  money-lovers,  did  not  understand  Christ — 
could  not  make  out  the  worth  of  Him,  or  meaning  of  Him.  He 
never  thought  He  would  be  killed.  He  was  horror-struck  when 
he  found  that  Christ  would  be  killed ;  threw  his  money  away 
instantly,  and  hanged  himself.  How  many  of  our  present  money- 
seekers,  think  you,  would  have  the  grace  to  hang  themselves, 
whoever  was  killed  ?  But  Judas  was  a  common,  selfish,  muddle- 
headed,  pilfering  fellow ;  his  hand  always  in  the  bag  of  the 
poor,  not  caring  for  them.  Helpless  to  understand  Christ,  he  yet 
believed  in  Him,  much  more  than  most  of  us  do;  had  seen  Him 
do  miracles,  thought  He  was  quite  strong  enough  to  shift  for 


280  JUDAS  ISCARIOt 

Himself,  and  he,  Judas,  might  as  well  make  his  own  little  bye- 
perquisites  out  of  the  affair.  Christ  would  come  out  of  it  well 
enough,  and  he  have  his  thirty  pieces.  Now,  that  is  the  money- 
seeker's  idea,  all  over  the  world.  He  doesn't  hate  Christ,  but 
can't  understand  Him — doesn't  care  for  Him — sees  no  good  in 
that  benevolent  business;  makes  his  own  little  job  out  of  it  at  all 
events,  come  what  will.  And  thus,  out  of  every  mass  of  men,  you 
have  a  certain  number  of  bagmen — your  "  fee-first "  men,  whose 
main  object  is  to  make  money.  And  they  do  make  it — make  it 
in  all  sorts  of  unfair  ways,  chiefly  by  the  weight  and  force  of 
money  itself,  or  what  is  called  the  power  of  capital ;  that  is  to  say, 
the  power  which  money,  once  obtained,  has  over  the  labour  of  the 
poor,  so  that  the  capitalist  can  take  all  its  produce  to  himself, 
except  the  labourer's  food.  That  is  the  modern  Judas's  way  of 
"  carrying  the  bag  "  and  "  bearing  what  is  put  therein." 1 

2.  Judas  was  probably  also  ambitious  and  "  loved  the  pre 
eminence."  Why  did  he  care  for  money  ?  Because  he  wished  to 
be  someone,  to  shine,  to  be  noticed,  to  have  power.  Perhaps  it 
was  with  this  object  that  he  joined  the  band  at  first ;  and,  fearing 
he  was  going  to  rniss  it,  he  struck  out  for  himself.  It  is  the  old 
mistake,  constantly  repeated,  of  supposing  that  power  lies  in 
something  without,  rather  than  in  something  within. 

Contrast  St.  John!  A  fisherman's  son,  without  the  shrewd 
ness,  the  ability,  possibly  the  prestige,  that  belonged  to  the  man 
of  the  South !  Who  could  predict  that  his  name  would  one  day 
be  known  throughout  the  world  and  that  his  writings  would 
absorb  the  attention  of  the  greatest  minds  that  civilization  has 
known  ?  He  has  not  the  mark  of  a  Socrates  or  a  Demosthenes, 
nor  does  he  seem  to  be  like  one  of  the  old  prophets — only  a  plain 
fisherman's  son.  Earnest ;  and  though  religious,  yet  stormy  and 
perhaps  passionate ;  a  Son  of  Thunder,  with  much  that  is  earthly 
and  poor.  And  yet  he  it  is  who  not  only  impresses  his  own 
countrymen,  but  sits  like  a  seer  in  Asia  with  crowds  of  disciples 
trying  to  catch  every  word. 

U  Writing  to  his  mother  on  his  forty-ninth  birthday,  Professor 
Charteris  says : 

"My  life  has  been  one  of  amazing  mercy.  I  hope  my 
ambitions  are  now  understood  and  put  away.  I  don't  know ;  but 
I  wish  they  were.  Ambition  is  an  unholy  thing,  because  it 

1  Ruskin,  The  Crown  of  Wild  Olive,  §  33  ( Werks,  xviii.  414). 


THE  TRAITOR  281 

prevents  a  man  from  waiting  upon  God.     That  is  how  it  comes 
to  be  sin.     From  it  may  the  Lord  deliver  us  all."  1 

3.  But  deeper  than  either  greed  or  ambition,  as  indeed  the 
root  of  these  vices,  there  possessed  the  soul  of  Judas  an  intense 
selfishness.  "The  essence  of  every  evil,"  says  Maclaren,  "is 
selfishness,  and  when  you  have  that,  it  is  exactly  as  with  cooks 
when  they  have  what  they  call '  stock '  by  the  fireside.  They  can 
make  any  kind  of  soup  out  of  it  with  the  right  flavouring.  We 
have  got  the  mother-tincture  of  all  wickedness  in  each  of  our 
hearts,  ami  therefore  do  not  let  us  be  so  sure  that  it  cannot  be 
manipulated  and  flavoured  into  any  form  of  sin." 

And  what  is  selfishness  but  the  visible  result  of  a  nature  that 
is  absorbed  with  the  things  of  the  world  ?  Judas  was  impervious 
to  spiritual  influences,  else  he  had  not  lived  so  closely  with  Christ 
to  betray  Him  at  the  last.  Judas  could  boast  of  being  a  clear 
sighted  man,  who  saw  things  as  they  really  were,  and  was  not 
misled  by  the  illusive  dreams  of  which  the  heads  of  his  brethren 
were  full.  How  was  it  that  they  could  see  what  he  could  not 
aee,  and  had  faculties  capable  of  recognizing  the  greatness  of  a 
Master  whom  he  only  despised  as  a  mistaken  enthusiast?  It  is 
this  absolute  deadness  of  spiritual  perception  that  was  the  radical 
flaw  in  the  character  of  Judas,  and  that  makes  the  study  of  his 
history  really  profitable  for  our  example  and  warning.  It  is  a 
very  exceptional  thing  that  one  of  us  should  be  under  a  tempta 
tion  to  anything  that  may  be  called  treachery ;  but  we  may  all  do 
well  to  bear  in  mind  that  what  made  the  fall  of  Judas  possible 
was  that  he  was  clear-sighted  with  respect  to  material  objects, 
and  to  all  the  things  of  this  life,  but  that  the  spiritual  world  was 
quite  invisible  to  him. 

Judas  had  the  same  chances  of  better  things  as  his  brother- 
Apostles  had.  There  were  mixed  motives,  no  doubt,  in  the  hearts 
of  all.  The  narrative  shows  us  that  the  worldly  spirit  sometimes 
broke  forth  in  rivalry  (Mark  ix.  33,  34,  and  x.  35-37),  and  in 
covetousnoss  (Matt.  xx.  26);  the  leaven  of  worldliness  was  there. 
But  in  the  other  Apostles  devotion  and  fidelity  to  their  Lord 
overmastered  the  lower  impulses  of  their  hearts.  "  One  man,"  as 
Bishop  Thirlwall  says,  "cannot  be  described  as  more  selfish  than 

1  K.  D.  McLaren,  Mr.inoir  of  Professor  Charl<;Hs,  120. 


282  JUDAS  ISCARIOT 

another."  What  is  true  is  that  one  man  curbs  selfishness  less 
than  his  neighbour  does.  The  comrades  of  Judas  had  weaknesses 
and  worldly  desires,  even  as  he  had ;  but  they  yielded  themselves 
to  the  good  influence  which  was  so  near  them.  They  did  not 
wholly  understand  Christ's  teaching;  but  that  teaching,  even 
when  not  fully  grasped,  being  followed  by  willing  hearts,  lifted 
their  conceptions  to  higher  levels,  and  helped  to  free  them  from 
the  moral  tyranny  of  self.  But  in  Judas  the  self-interest  was 
allowed  to  grow ;  he  fostered  it  in  thought ;  he  nourished  it  by 
habitual  embezzlement  of  the  funds  entrusted  to  him.  Character 
grows  from  habits ;  and  he  adopted  bad  ones. 

U  Few  things  disgust  his  fellow-men  more,  or  render  them  more 
unwilling  to  help  him,  than  self-seeking  or  egotism  on  the  part  of 
a  man  who  is  striving  to  get  on.  A  thoroughly  selfish  fellow 
may  score  small  successes,  but  he  will  in  the  end  find  himself 
heavily  handicapped  in  the  effort  to  attain  really  great  success. 
Selfishness  is  a  vice,  and  a  thoroughly  ugly  one.  When  he  takes 
thought  exclusively  of  himself,  a  man  does  not  violate  only  the 
canons  of  religion  and  morality.  He  is  untrue  to  the  obligation1, 
of  his  station  in  society,  he  is  neglecting  his  own  interests,  and 
he  will  inevitably  and  quickly  be  found  out.  I  have  often 
watched  the  disastrous  consequences  of  this  sin,  both  in  private 
and  in  public  life.  It  is  an  insidious  sin.  It  leads  to  the  produc 
tion  of  the  hard,  small-minded  man,  and,  in  its  milder  form,  of  the 
prig.  Both  are  ill-equipped  for  the  final  race ;  they  may  get 
ahead  at  first;  but  as  a  rule  they  will  be  found  to  have  fallen 
out  when  the  last  lap  is  reached.  It  is  the  man  who  possesses 
the  virtue  of  true  humility,  and  who  thinks  of  his  neighbours,  and 
is  neither  critical  nor  a  grumbler  if  they  have  good  fortune,  who 
has  his  neighbours  on  his  side,  and  therefore  in  the  end  gets  the 
best  chance,  even  in  this  world,  assuming  always  that  he  puts  his 
soul  into  his  own  work.1 

4.  Did  Judas  become  utterly  evil  ?  Did  his  wicked  treachery 
put  him  absolutely  beyond  all  Divine  mercy  ?  Mr.  J.  E.  Katten- 
bury  asks  these  questions,  and  answers  No.  "  You  remember,"  he 
says,  "  that  in  His  last  prayer  Jesus  mentions  Judas.  He  calls  him 
'  the  son  of  perdition/  and  Martin  Luther  translates  that  term  as 
'  a  lost  child.'  We  assume  that  Jesus  was  repudiating  Judas  when 
He  called  him  the  son  of  perdition.  But  is  that  true  ?  Was  He 
not  really  praying  for  him — speaking  of  him  tenderly  as  a  lost 
1  Lord  Haldane,  The  Conduct  of  Life,  16. 


THE  TRAITOR  283 

child  ?  Listen  to  His  prayer  as  He  prays  for  all  His  dis 
ciples  : 

" '  While  I  was  with  them  in  the  world,  I  kept  them  in  thy 
name :  those  that  thou  gavest  me  I  have  kept,  and  none  of  them 
is  lost,  but  the  son  of  perdition ' — the  lost  child. 

"  No,  Jesus  was  not  tearing  Judas  out  of  His  heart  when  He 
made  that  prayer ;  He  was  lamenting  over  His  dear  friend,  telling 
His  Father  about  His  lost  child.  Put  yourself  in  the  place  of 
Jesus,  and  think  how  He  would  pray.  He  had  a  number  of 
disciples  and  friends  whom  He  loved,  and  He  came  to  the  end 
of  His  life,  and  prayed  His  Father  to  continue  to  keep  His  friends 
in  His  love  ;  He  was  gratified  that  He  had  been  able  to  keep  those 
who  had  been  true  to  Him ;  but  there  was  one  exception,  and  in 
the  midst  of  that  prayer  of  thanksgiving  you  can  hear  the  broken 
heart  of  Christ  sobbing,  '  But  there  is  a  lost  child.  I  have  lost 
none  save  one.'  Oh !  the  heart-break  in  it !  '  There  is  a  lost 
child.'  It  is  thus  that  He  thinks  of  Judas." l 

U  It  is  indeed  difficult  to  conceive  how  Judas  could  through 
eternity  arrive  at  peace,  with  such  a  memory  ever  present  with 
him.  We  can  scarcely  conceive  how  even  the  fullest  forgiveness 
of  God  could  enable  him  to  forgive  himself,  or  purge  his  memory 
of  its  mortal  agony.  It  is  evident  that  the  purer  we  become  we 
must  increasingly  abhor  and  loathe  all  sin,  especially  in  our 
selves  ;  and  thus  it  would  appear  that  if  memory  remains  in  the 
future  stages  of  our  being,  the  retrospect  of  past  transgression 
must  become  ever  increasingly  painful  to  us.  Yet  we  cannot 
doubt  but  that  there  must  be  a  sufficient  antidote  in  the  Divine 
love  even  for  this  form  of  agony — a  power  to  give  perfect  peace 
even  to  a  Judas  when  he  turns  to  Clod.  I  believe  that  it  is  our 
ignorance  of  the  nature  of  Divine  love — of  its  power  and  sweet 
ness  and  blessedness — which  makes  it  so  difficult  for  us  to  con 
ceive  of  such  a  deliverance.  And  as  that  love,  though  it  passes 
the  reason  to  conceive  it,  is  yet  in  harmony  with  reason,  we  may 
suppose  that  one  of  its  consolations  to  a  Judas  will  be,  not  only 
that  God  has  brought  a  blessing  to  the  world  out  of  his  trans 
gression,  but  that,  through  the  very  horror  of  that  fearful  act, 
his  own  soul  has  been  brought  into  a  deeper  trust  in  God,  and 
thus  into  a  deeper  righteousness  than,  it  may  be,  he  could  otherwise 
have  attained.* 

1  J.  E.  R»tt«nburj,  The  Twelve,  '293. 
1  T.  Erskine,  The  Spiritual  Order,  254. 


284  JUDAS  ISCARIOT 

TJ  The  lesson  which  the  sin  of  Judas  brings  with  it  is  the 
rapidity  of  sin's  growth  and  the  enormous  proportions  it  attains 
when  the  sinner  is  sinning  against  light,  when  he  is  in  circum 
stances  conducive  to  holiness  and  still  sins.  To  discover  the 
wickedest  of  men,  to  see  the  utmost  of  human  guilt,  we  must  look, 
not  among  the  heathen,  but  among  those  who  know  God ;  not 
among  the  profligate,  dissolute,  abandoned  classes  of  society,  but 
among  the  Apostles.  Had  Judas  not  followed  Christ  he  could 
never  have  attained  the  pinnacle  of  infamy  on  which  he  now  for 
ever  stands.  In  all  probability  he  would  have  passed  his  days  as 
a  small  trader  with  false  weights  in  the  little  town  of  Kerioth,  or, 
at  the  worst,  might  have  developed  into  an  extortionous  publican, 
and  have  passed  into  oblivion  with  the  thousands  of  unjust  men 
who  have  died  and  been  at  last  forced  to  let  go  the  money 
that  should  long  ago  have  belonged  to  others.  Or  had  Judas 
followed  Christ  truly,  then  there  lay  before  him  the  noblest  of  all 
lives,  the  most  blessed  of  destinies.  But  he  followed  Christ  and 
yet  took  his  sin  with  him :  and  thence  his  ruin.1 
1  M.  Dods,  The  Gospel  of  St.  Juhn,  ii.  104. 


JUDAS  ISCARIOT, 

IV. 
THE  EXAMPLE, 


LITERATURE. 

Abbey,  C.  J.,  The  Divine  Love  (1900),  110. 
Austin,  A.  B.,  Linked  Lives  (1913),  97. 
Bacon,  L.  W.,  The  Simplicity  that  is  in  Christ  (1892),  309. 
Blunt,  J.  J.,  Plain  Sermont,  ii.  (1868)  256. 
Bruce,  A.  B.,  The  Training  of  the  Twelve  (1871),  371. 
Burn,  A.  E.,  The  Grown  of  Thorns  (1911),  1. 
Burrell,  D.  J.,  A  Quiver  of  Arrows  (1902),  297. 
Carpenter,  W.  B.,  The  Son  of  Man  among  the  Sons  of  Men  (1893),  63. 
Fairbairn,  A.  M.,  Studies  in  the  Life  of  Christ  (1881),  258. 
Davies,  D.,  Talks  with  Men,  Women  and  Children,  iv.  (1892)  599. 
Dawson,  W.  J.,  The  Man  Christ  Jesus  (1901),  358. 
Deems,  C.  F.,  Jesus  (1880),  603. 

Edersheim,  A.,  The  Life  and  Times  of  Jesus  the  Messiah,  ii.  (1887)  471. 
Farrar,  F.  W.,  Tlie  Life  of  Christ  (1894),  471. 
„       The  Life  of  Lives  (1900),  431. 
Hough,  L.  H.,  The  Men  of  the  Gospels  (1913),  40. 
Ingram,  A.  F.  W.,  Addresses  in  Holy  Week  (1902),  1. 
Jones,  J.  D.,  The  Glorious  Company  of  the  Apostles  (1904),  239. 
Ker,  J.,  Sermons,  i.  (1885)  282. 
Killip,  R.,  Citizens  of  the  Universe  (1914),  207. 
Liddon,  H.  P.,  Passiontide  Sermons  (1891),  210. 
Lightfoot,  J.  B.,  Sermons  Preached  in  St.  Paul's  Cathedral  (1891),  58. 
Little,  W.  J.  K.,  Sunlight  and  Shadow  in  the  Christian  Life  (1892),  270. 
Lovell,  R.  H.,  First  Types  of  the  Christian  Life  (1895),  158. 
Maclaren,  A.,  Leaves  from  the  Tree  of  Life  (1899),  153. 
Morrow,  H.  W.,  Questions  Asked  and  Answered  by  Our  Lord,  235. 
Moulton,  J.  H.,  Visions  of  Sin  (1898),  93. 
Parker,  J.,  The  Ark  of  God  (1877),  40. 
Rattenbury,  J.  E.,  The  Twelve  (1914),  285. 
Rawnsley,  R.  D.  B.,  Village  Sermons,  iii.  (1883)  74. 
Salmon,  G.,  Cathedral  and  University  Sermons  (1900),  88. 
Simcox,  W.  H.,  The  Cessation  of  Prophecy  (1891),  269. 
Stalker,  J.,  The  Trial  and  Death  of  Jesus  Christ  (1894),  110. 
Wakinshaw,  W.,  John's  Ideal  City  (1915),  122. 
Dictionary  of  Christ  and  the  Gospels,  i.  (1906)  907  (J.  G.  Tasker). 


THE  EXAMPLE. 

Holy  Father,  keep  them  in  thy  name  which  thou  hast  given  me,  that  they 
may  be  one,  even  as  we  are.  While  I  was  with  them,  I  kept  them  in  thy 
name  which  thou  hast  given  me  :  and  I  guarded  them,  and  not  one  of  them 
perished,  but  the  son  of  perdition. — John  xvii.  iz,  12. 

Is  not  the  case  of  Judas  so  exceptional  that  his  temptation  is 
not  our  temptation,  that  his  crime  cannot  be  our  crime,  and  that 
therefore  his  fall  has  no  lesson  of  warning  for  us  ?  Nay,  his  sin 
seems  so  unnatural  and  monstrous  that  we  have  some  difficulty 
in  even  realizing  it.  The  contrast  is  too  violent  between  the 
Apostle  and  the  traitor — the  intimate  communion  with  the  Holy 
One  here ;  the  vile  perfidy  to  the  Friend  and  Saviour  there ;  the 
unique  advantages  here,  the  unparalleled  baseness  there.  The 
perfect  example  of  the  Master,  the  elevating  society  of  the  fellow- 
disciples,  the  words  of  truth,  the  works  of  power,  the  grace,  the 
purity,  the  holiness,  the  love — all  these  forgotten,  spurned, 
trampled  under  foot,  to  gratify  one  miserable,  greedy  passion, 
if  not  the  worst,  at  least  the  meanest,  that  can  possess  the  heart 
of  man.  On  this  moral  contrast  our  Lord  lays  special  emphasis. 
"  Have  not  I  chosen  you,  the  twelve,  chosen  you  out  of  the  many 
thousands  in  Israel,  in  preference  to  the  high-born  and  the 
powerful,  in  preference  to  the  rabbi  and  the  scribe  and  the  priest, 
chosen  you  a  mere  handful  of  men  to  be  My  intimate  friends,  My 
special  messengers  now,  to  sit  on  twelve  thrones  judging  the 
twelve  tribes  of  Israel  hereafter;  and  yet  one  among  you  is  not 
faithless  only,  not  unworthy,  not  sinful  only,  but  a  very  impersona 
tion  of  the  Accuser,  the  Arch-fiend  himself?" 

Our  experiences  may  recall  some  faint  type  of  such  a  contrast, 
where  the  circumstances  of  the  criminal  and  the  baseness  of  the 
crime  seem  to  stand  in  no  relation  to  each  other.  We  may  have 
seen  some  one  member  of  a  family,  brought  up  under  conditions 

the   most   favourable   to   his   moral   and   religious  development, 

•87 


288  JUDAS  ISCARIOT 

watcned  over  by  parents  whose  devoted  care  was  never  at  fault, 
growing  up  among  brothers  and  sisters  whose  example  suggested 
only  innocence  and  truthfulness,  breathing,  in  short,  the  very 
atmosphere  of  holiness  and  purity  and  love;  and  yet  he  has 
fallen — fallen  we  know  not  how,  but  fallen  so  low  that  even  the 
world  rejects  him  as  an  outcast.  He  is  a  traitor  to  the  family 
name,  he  has  dragged  the  family  honour  in  the  mire.  And  yet, 
until  lately,  he  was,  to  all  outward  appearances,  as  one  of  the  rest 
— sharing  the  same  companionships,  joining  in  the  same  amuse 
ments,  learning  the  same  lessons,  nay,  even  wearing  the  same 
family  features,  speaking  with  his  father's  voice,  or  smiling  with 
his  mother's  smile. 

K  How  peculiarly  does  the  warning  of  Judas  come  home  to 
those  who  in  our  own  day  "  do  the  work  of  a  gospeller,"  whose 
life  is  spent  in  proclaiming  the  message  Judas  spoke  in  the  villages 
of  Galilee  long  ago.  Surely  if  anyone  could  be  safe  from  the 
seductions  of  worldliness,  it  must  be  the  man  or  woman  whose 
voice  is  day  by  day  telling  the  glad  news  to  old  and  young, 
pointing  to  eager  seekers  the  narrow  path  that  leads  to  everlasting 
life.  Is  it  so  ?  Has  the  preacher  never  felt  within  him  the  vague 
but  horrible  consciousness  that  the  oft-repeated  message  is  be 
coming  for  him  a  parrot  cry.  that  he  knows  the  way  of  salvation 
so  well  by  heart  that  the  tenderest  of  God's  words  wakes  no 
loving  echo  in  his  soul,  that  faith  is  frozen  into  an  "  ism,"  and  that 
no  instrument  fashioned  of  man  has  power  to  expel  nature — 
nature,  alas !  ever  prone  to  degrade  ?  Have  the  gaols  of  our 
country  never  opened  to  men  from  whose  lips  thousands  once 
heard  the  truth,  while  within  them  worldliness  was  having  its 
perfect  work,  sapping  the  power  which  alone  kept  that  gospel 
from  being  only  the  most  hideous  of  hypocrisies  ?  Yes ;  Judas  is 
not  the  only  fallen  apostle  whose  name  the  tears  of  God  have 
blotted  out  of  the  Book  of  Life.1 


I. 

THE  LOST  OPPORTUNITY. 

1.  If  the  tragedy  of  any  man's  life  consists  in  the  contrast 
between  what   he   is  and  what   he   might   have   been,  between 
depths  to  which  he  has  fallen  and  heights  to  which  he  might 
1  J.  H.  Moulton,  Viviens  of  Sin,  108. 


THE  EXAMPLE  289 

have  risen,  there  was  never  doom  so  tragic  as  his  who,  terrible  con 
tradiction  !  was  at  once  the  Apostle  and  the  betrayer  of  his  Lord. 
For  to  what  had  he  been  called?  What  was  it  that  he  might 
have  been  ?  One  of  the  twelve  precious  stones  on  the  breast-plate 
of  the  everlasting  High  Priest;  one  of  the  twelve  foundations  of 
the  Heavenly  Jerusalem,  one  of  the  twelve  Apostles  of  the  Lamb, 
even  of  them  that  in  the  regeneration,  in  the  new  heaven  and  the 
new  earth,  should  sit  on  thrones  judging  the  twelve  tribes  of 
Israel ;  one  whom  in  all  ages  and  throughout  all  the  world  the 
Church  should  have  held  in  highest  honour  and  most  thankful 
remembrance,  as  of  those  who  stood  nearest  to  her  Lord  when  He 
sojourned  among  the  children  of  men.  Such  he  might  have  been  ; 
and  what  is  he  ?  A  name  which  is  beneath  every  name,  the 
darkest  blot  in  the  page  of  human  story ;  and,  when  we  seek  to 
pierce  into  the  awful  darkness  beyond,  we  know  only  that  One 
who  knows  all  destinies,  and  who  measures  all  dooms,  declared  of 
him  what  He  never  in  so  many  words  declared  of  any  other, "  It 
had  been  good  for  that  man  if  he  had  not  been  born." 

2.  Called  to  be  an  Apostle  !  What  a  magnificent  opening  for 
usefulness !  But  we  never  find  the  traitor,  Judas,  mentioned 
foremost  in  any  work  of  love  or  bringing  others  to  Jesus  for  heal 
ing  of  soul  or  body.  When  the  crowds  were  fed  he  was  there, 
and  helped  to  distribute  food  as  he  was  bidden.  But  though 
treasurer  of  the  party,  it  was  not  Judas  who  offered  to  go  and  buy 
food.  It  would  make  too  large  a  gap  in  his  hoard  of  savings,  if  it 
were  possible.  The  miracle  itself  might  seem  to  confirm  his  hopes 
of  an  earthly  kingdom.  The  crowds  were  very  anxious  to  make 
Jesus  a  king.  It  must  have  been  a  disappointment  to  Judas  when 
the  Lord  hurried  the  disciples  into  their  boat  and  sent  them  away, 
evidently  lest  they  should  lose  their  heads  with  the  crowd  and  try 
to  force  on  Him  assumption  of  temporal  sovereignty. 

The  only  time  when  his  voice  was  heard  was  in  grumbling 
against  Mary  for  wasting  precious  ointment  on  her  Lord.  Think 
of  all  that  his  opportunity  meant — hourly  companionship  and 
conversation  with  the  sinless  Son  of  Man,  always  so  gentle,  kind, 
forgiving,  and  moreover  wise  and  firm,  a  leader  who  could  com 
mand  reverence  as  well  as  love.  Judas 's  nature  was  too  cold  and 
calculating  to  have  much  enthusiasm  roused  in  him.  The  harvest 

MARY-SIMON 19 


29o  JUDAS  ISCARIOT 

of  his  earthly  expectations  was  blighted ;  the  summer  of  his  life 
was  ended,  and  he  was  not  saved.  One  hope  only  remained — to 
enrich  himself  amid  the  wreck  of  Christ's  fortunes,  and  he  grasped 
at  it ;  and  lo  !  the  pelf  for  which  he  sold  his  soul  burnt  his  fingers. 
As  blood-money  it  was  hateful  to  him.  He  flung  it  down  before 
the  chief  priests  who  had  paid  it  over  to  him,  and  went  and 
hanged  himself. 

3.  Because  Judas  did  not  profit  by  the  fellowship  of  Christ, 
he  was  the  worse  for  it.  For  that  double  effect  always  attends 
contact  with  Christ.  It  is  either  a  blessing  or  a  curse.  Fire 
softens  wax,  but  it  hardens  clay;  air  nourishes  the  growing 
plant,  but  it  helps  to  corrupt  and  destroy  the  cut  flower.  So  the 
influence  of  Jesus,  which  was  changing  the  fickle  Peter  into  the 
man  of  rock  and  the  hot-tempered  John  into  the  Apostle  of  Love, 
was  making  Judas  capable  of  the  crime  of  history.  Yes,  the  very 
purity  and  holiness  of  Jesus  did  but  harden  Judas  and  intensify 
his  hatred  of  the  good  he  saw  but  would  not  follow,  until  he  was 
prepared  in  the  madness  of  his  hate  to  betray  Jesus  to  a  cruel 
death.  And  that  same  solemn  lesson  Judas  teaches  to  us.  Privi 
leges  unused  become  curses. 

^|  Judas  heard  all  Christ's  sermons.1 

K  Why  does  St.  John  love,  and  why  does  Judas  fail  ?  No 
complete  answer  can  be  forthcoming.  The  reply  lies  in  the 
inscrutable  mystery  of  the  human  will.  Both  had  the  same 
opportunity,  both  were  open  to  the  same  influences.  But  the 
one  set  out  to  be  what  God  intended  him  to  be,  and  let  the 
warmth  of  family  love,  the  strength  of  the  Baptist's  affection, 
and  the  indescribable  power  of  the  love  of  the  Sou  of  God  enter 
in,  expand,  develop,  and  enrich  the  self.  The  other  had  a  plan  of 
his  own.  He  would  make  his  mark,  satisfy  his  stirring  ambitions ; 
and  so,  being  ever  restless,  ever  craving  to  find  some  new  oppor 
tunity,  he  only  had  occasional  glimpses  of  love,  never  got  really 
warmed  by  it,  never  felt  its  stimulating  power ;  and  at  last  the 
light  went  out,  and  darkness  and  his  own  place  were  all  he 
knew.  Judas  sought  to  win  his  soul  and  lost  it ;  St.  John  lost 
his  soul  for  Christ's  sake  and  found  it.  The  one  became  less  and 
less  of  man,  the  central  activities  that  Love  keeps  going  gradually 
slackening,  and  at  last  stopping  altogether;  the  other  grew  day 
1  Thomas  Goodwin. 


THE   EXAMPLE  291 

by  day  into  the  perfect  man,  through  the  expansive  power  of  that 
inner  fire  of  love  that  was  fed  continuously  by  the  love  of  Christ.1 

II. 

THE  GRADUAL  DESCENT. 

1.  It  is  an  old  and  a  true  saying,  that  no  man  ever  became 
utterly  base  at  once.     Utter  baseness  requires  a  long  education  ; 
but  it  is  carried  on  in  secret,  and  so  we  do  not  notice  it.     The 
heinous,  shocking  crime  first  startles  us,  but  it  is  only  the  end  of 
a  long  series.     It  was  so,  no  doubt,  with  Judas.     He  had  had,  as 
every  man,  whether  good  or  bad,  has  in  some  form  or  other,  an 
evil  tendency  in  his  heart.     Here  was  his  trial ;  here  might  have 
been  his  moral  education.     That  tendency  became  his  master,  and 
plunged  him  in  headlong  ruin. 

There  was,  first  of  all,  the  pleasure  of  fingering  the  coin ;  then 
there  was  the  desire  of  accumulating ;  then  there  was  the  reluct 
ant  hand  and  the  grudging  heart  in  distributing  alms ;  then  there 
was  the  silent  appropriation  of  some  trilling  sum,  as  indemnifica 
tion  for  a  real  or  imagined  personal  loss;  then  there  was  the 
first  unmistakable  act  of  petty  fraud — and  so  it  went  on  and  on, 
until  the  disciple  became  the  thief,  the  trusted  became  the  traitor, 
the  Apostle  of  Christ  the  eon  of  perdition. 

T]  Was  any  woman,  do  you  suppose,  ever  the  better  for 
possessing  diamonds  ?  but  how  many  have  been  made  base, 
frivolous,  and  miserable  by  desiring  them  ?  Was  ever  man  the 
better  for  having  collers  full  of  gold  ?  But  who  shall  measure  the 
guilt  that  is  incurred  to  fill  them  ?  Look  into  the  history  of  any 
civilized  nations ;  analyse,  with  reference  to  this  one  cause  of 
crime  and  misery,  the  lives  and  thoughts  of  their  nobles,  priests, 
merchants,  and  men  of  luxurious  life.  Every  other  temptation  is 
at  last  concentrated  into  this ;  pride,  and  lust,  and  envy,  and 
anger,  all  give  up  their  strength  to  avarice.  The  sin  of  the  whole 
world  is  essentially  the  sin  of  Judas.  Men  do  not  disbelieve  their 
Christ;  but  they  sell  Him.2 

2.  There  is  to  our  minds  an  inexpressible  meanness  in  the  fact 
that  it  was  not  the  prospect  of  any  vast  amount  of  wealth  that 
tempted  him.     That  would  not  have  justified  or  excused  him,  but  it 

1  O.  H.  S.  Walpole,  Personality  and  Power,  169. 

1  Huskni,  Ethics  of  ttu  L>ust,  Lect.  i.  $  10  (Wurka,  xviii.  217). 


292  JUDAS  ISCARIOT 

would  have  made  his  conduct  more  explicable.  But  that,  for  a  sum 
less  than  £4,  he  should  have  sold  such  a  Master  and  such  a  Friend 
indicates  the  depth  of  wickedness.  And  apart  altogether  from 
what  Christ  was  in  Himself,  and  what  He  came  to  do,  which  have 
gathered  round  this  deed  of  Judas  a  criminality  that  is  unequalled, 
there  was  a  baseness  in  the  whole  character  of  his  act  which 
makes  it  hideous,  and  which  has  made  his  name  synonymous 
with  badness  in  its  worst  form. 

But  the  magnitude  of  any  passion  in  the  human  soul  is 
altogether  independent  of  the  limits  of  its  opportunity  for  in 
dulgence.  Tyranny  is  as  possible  in  a  cottage  as  on  an  Eastern 
throne ;  though  it  may  have  to  content  itself  with  more  restricted 
gratification.  Envy,  pride,  sensuality,  maliciousness,  though  they 
may  be  gratified  on  a  vast  area,  and  with  terrific  results  to 
millions,  or  within  the  narrowest  limits  of  a  very  humble  lot,  are, 
as  passions,  in  the  one  case  what  they  are  in  the  other — powers 
that  overshadow  and  gradually  absorb  all  else  in  the  soul,  and 
give  it  throughout  the  impress  and  colour  of  their  own  malignity. 
Just  as  there  are  bodily  diseases  which,  at  first  unobtrusive  and 
unnoticed  and  capable  of  being  extirpated  if  taken  in  time,  will 
spread  and  grow  until  first  one  and  then  another  limb  or  organ  is 
weakened  or  infected  by  them,  so  that  at  last  the  whole  body  is 
but  a  habitation  for  the  disease  which  is  hurrying  it  to  the  grave; 
so  in  the  moral  world  one  unresisted  propensity  to  known  wrong 
may  in  time  acquire  a  tyrannical  ascendancy  that  will  make 
almost  any  crime  possible  in  order  to  gratify  it 

TJ  The  creed  which  makes  human  nature  richer  and  larger 
makes  men  at  the  same  time  capable  of  profounder  sins  ;  admitted 
into  a  holier  sanctuary,  they  are  exposed  to  the  temptation  of  a 
greater  sacrilege ;  awakened  to  the  sense  of  new  obligations,  they 
sometimes  lose  their  simple  respect  for  the  old  ones ;  saints  that 
have  resisted  the  subtlest  temptations  sometimes  begin  again,  as 
it  were,  by  yielding  without  a  struggle  to  the  coarsest ;  hypocrisy 
has  become  tenfold  more  ingenious  and  better  supplied  with 
disguises ;  in  short,  human  nature  has  inevitably  developed 
downwards  as  well  as  upwards,  and  if  the  Christian  ages  be  com 
pared  with  those  of  heathenism  they  are  found  worse  as  well  as 
better,  and  it  is  possible  to  make  it  a  question  whether  mankind 
has  gained  on  the  whole.1 

1  J.  R.  Seeley,  Ecce  llomo,  chap.  xxif. 


THE  EXAMPLE  293 

^J  All  men  who  know  themselves  are  conscious  that  this 
tendency  [degeneration],  deep-rooted  and  active,  exists  within  their 
nature.  Theologically  it  is  described  as  a  gravitation,  a  bias 
toward  evil.  The  Bible  view  is  that  man  is  conceived  in  sin  and 
shapen  in  iniquity.  And  experience  tells  him  that  he  will  shape 
himself  into  further  sin  and  ever-deepening  iniquity  without  the 
smallest  effort,  without  in  the  least  intending  it,  and  in  the  most 
natural  way  in  the  world  if  he  simply  let  his  life  run.  It  is  on 
this  principle  that,  completing  the  conception,  the  wicked  are 
said  further  in  the  Bible  to  be  lost.  They  are  not  really  lost  as 
yet,  but  they  are  on  the  sure  way  to  it.  The  bias  of  their  lives  is 
in  full  action.  There  is  no  drag  on  anywhere.  The  natural 
tendencies  are  having  it  all  their  own  way ;  and  although  the 
victims  may  be  quite  unconscious  that  all  this  is  going  on,  it  is 
patent  to  every  one  who  considers  even  the  natural  bearings  of 
the  case  that  "  the  end  of  these  things  is  Death."  When  we  see 
a  man  fall  from  the  top  of  a  five-storey  house,  we  say  the  man  is 
lost.  We  say  that  before  he  has  fallen  a  foot;  for  the  same 
principle  that  made  him  fall  the  one  foot  will  undoubtedly  make 
him  complete  the  descent  by  falling  other  eighty  or  ninety  feet. 
So  that  he  is  a  dead  man,  or  a  lost  man,  from  the  very  first.  The 
gravitation  of  sin  in  a  human  soul  acts  precisely  in  the  same  way. 
Gradually,  with  gathering  momentum,  it  sinks  a  man  further  and 
further  from  God  and  righteousness,  and  lands  him,  by  the  sheer 
action  of  a  natural  law,  in  the  hell  of  a  neglected  life.1 

3.  When  Judas  let  the  character  which  he  had  slowly  formed 
go  out  into  his  terrible  treachery,  he  felt  as  if  a  bridge  were 
broken  behind  him.  In  that  bewildering  night  in  the  garden,  he 
was  swept  from  the  side  of  Christ,  and  only  then  did  he  begin  to 
realize  what  he  had  done  and  what  he  had  lost.  He  could  no 
more  look  upon  the  face  of  the  Master  he  had  sold.  The  trustful, 
happy  circle  of  the  Twelve  was  broken,  and  he,  of  them  all,  was 
left  utterly  alone.  However  they  might  meet  in  secret,  and 
fearfully,  to  speak  of  their  past  and  their  future,  of  the  death  of 
their  love  and  hope,  he  felt  that  he  had  no  more  part  or  lot 
among  them.  There  is  not  any  distance  in  space  or  time,  not  any 
change  in  circumstances,  which  will  so  cut  a  man  off  from  his 
fellow-men  as  one  sin  will  do.  But  it  will  generally  be  found 
that  this  sin  is  the  outcome  of  a  secret  life  which  stands  dis 
covered  by  it.  It  is  God's  way  of  letting  us  see,  even  now,  what 

1  H.  Drummond,  Natural  Law  in  the  Sjrirttual  World,  101. 


294  JUDAS  ISCARIOT 

final  judgment  will  disclose,  the  revelation  of  an  utter  incom 
patibility,  which  makes  a  man  seek  no  more  a  fellowship  where  he 
never  had  a  true  share. 

We  are  not  worst  at  once.     The  course  of  evil 
Begins  so  slowly,  and  from  such  slight  source, 
An  infant's  hand  might  stem  the  breach  with  clay. 
But  let  the  stream  grow  wider,  and  Philosophy, 
Aye,  and  Keligion  too,  may  strive  in  vain 
To  stem  the  headlong  current. 

III. 

THE  GIFT  AND  THE  TEMPTATION. 

1.  As  is  often  the  case,  one  of  the  master  temptations  of  Judas 
lay  along  the  lines  of  his  greatest  ability.     The  natural  superiority 
of   a   Judsean,  joined   with   a   keen,  practical   talent   which   his 
colleagues  lacked,  accounted  easily  for  his  promotion  to  the  rank 
of  treasurer,  to  keep  the  small  store  which  satisfied  the  company's 
scanty  needs  and  enabled  them  to  practise  the  luxury  of  giving  to 
those  who  were  even  poorer  than  themselves.     But  who  is  there 
that,  in  thoughtful  moments,  has  not  stood  almost  in  a  shuddering 
awe  at  the  fact  that  the  bag  should  have   been  committed   to 
Judas,  as  it  were  to  evoke  and  provoke  his  sin,  that  sin  to  which 
he  was  tempted  the  most,  and  to  give  him  an  easy  opportunity  of 
indulging  it  ?     And  yet  will  any  deny  that  this,  too,  is  only  one 
example   more    of    that   which   is   evermore    recurring   in   that 
mysterious  world  in  which  our  lives  are  being  lived  ?     Is  it  not 
true  that  men  continually  find  themselves  in  conditions  especially 
calculated  to  call  out  the  master  sin  of  their  hearts  ? 

2.  Let  it  not  be  forgotten  that  Judas  sinned   and   fell  after 
repeated   warnings.     The   general    tone   of   our   Lord's   teaching 
respecting  worldliness  was  one  constant  warning.     To  a  man  like 
Judas,  trying  to  secure  his  own  interest,  and  making   this   the 
prime  object  of  his  thoughts,  the  words,  "  Ye  cannot  serve  God 
and  mammon,"  would  come  like  a  trumpet-note  of  alarm.     But, 
besides  general  language  like  this,  there  are  utterances  of  our 
Lord  which,  in  the  light  of  Judas's  character,  sound  like  direct  and 
special  efforts  to  awake  him  from  his  dream  of  self.     We  may,  for 


THE  EXAMPLE  295 

example,  read  in  the  light  of  Judas's  designs  the  parable  of  the 
Unjust  Steward.  The  steward  has  wasted  his  master's  goods ;  he 
has  been  unfaithful  in  his  trust.  Judas  has  been  unfaithful ;  he 
has  tampered  with  the  bag.  The  steward  is  awakened  by  the 
danger  he  is  in  of  losing  his  position.  How  does  he  act  ?  He 
secures  his  retreat  by  making  negotiations  with  the  other  side. 
Judas  is  alarmed  by  the  thought  that  his  position  may  be  insecure. 
How  does  he  act  ?  He  opens  up  negotiations  with  the  enemies  of 
Christ.  It  is  a  clever  scheme.  As  far  as  worldly  and  unprincipled 
sagacity  can  go,  it  is  shrewd.  The  actor  shows  a  determination 
to  secure  himself  at  all  costs.  But  does  it  answer?  In  this 
world  it  may.  Unscrupulous  smartness  does  sometimes  succeed 
on  earth.  The  faithless  steward  may  secure  for  himself  a  refuge 
among  those  partners  of  his  guilt  whom  he  has  placed  under  an 
obligation — yes,  in  the  world,  in  earthly  habitations,  it  may  be  so  ; 
but  such  methods  will  secure  no  welcome,  when  men  fail,  in 
eternal  habitations.  The  irony  of  the  warning  is  an  arrow  for 
the  heart  of  Judas. 

Or,  again,  the  parable  of  the  Wedding  Garment  had  its  message 
for  the  traitor.  It  was  one  thing  to  refuse  to  come  to  the 
wedding ;  it  was  another  to  come,  and  to  come  in  the  beggarly 
array  of  one's  worldliness.  To  disregard  the  invitation  was  a 
fault ;  but  to  accept  it  without  entering  into  the  spirit  of  it,  to  be 
there  in  hollow  and  empty  form,  the  mockery  of  its  gladness, 
a  dark  shadow  upon  its  brightness — this  was  to  provoke  a  darker 
doom  than  the  sin  of  refusal  met.  Did  the  heart  and  mind  of 
Judas  not  feel  that  the  picture  had  familiar  touches,  and  that  the 
message  of  the  parable  was  for  him  as  well  as  for  others  ? 

Still  more  emphatic  is  the  warning,  given  at  the  time  when 
our  Lord  had  by  His  action  refused  the  Kingdom,  and  when, 
consequently,  doubts  began  to  grow  strong  in  the  mind  of  Judas. 
The  disciples  were  diminishing  in  numbers ;  the  refusal  of  the 
temporal  crown  followed  by  the  spiritual  teaching  respecting  the 
bread  of  life  was  too  much  for  the  carnal-minded  among  Christ's 
followers;  the  signs  of  disaffection  and  discontent  were  easy  to 
read.  The  heart  of  Judas  was  already  a  traitor's  heart ;  worldli 
ness  and  self-interest  were  slowly  and  surely  vanquishing  every 
loyal  obligation.  Then  it  is  that  our  Lord  speaks  the  words 
which  reveal  in  one  moment  the  schemer's  heart  in  all  its 


296  JUDAS  ISCARIOT 

hideousness,  "  Did  not  I  choose  you  the  twelve,  and  one  of  you  is 
a  devil  ? "  Must  not  the  soul  of  Judas  have  whispered  to  itself, 
"  It  is  I.  To  this  image  must  I  come  if  I  allow  this  thing  to  gain 
the  mastery  over  me  "  ? 

Christ's  effort  to  save  His  disciple  from  sinking  into  such  an 
abyss  of  baseness  did  not  end  here.  As  the  crisis  draws  near,  He 
puts  forth  fresh  and  final  attempts  to  save  him.  "  Ye  are  not  all 
clean,"  He  said,  at  the  time  when  it  was  not  yet  too  late  for  the 
traitor  to  cleanse  his  fault.  Christ  still  stood  near  at  hand  in  the 
garb  of  service,  stooping  to  wash  the  earth  stains  from  His 
disciples'  feet.  "  Ye  are  not  all  clean."  He  had  washed  Judas's 
feet  when  He  said  it;  but  the  cleansing  of  the  feet  was  not 
enough  for  one  whose  heart  was  still  foul.  Yet  it  was  not  then 
too  late.  The  foulest  might  yet  be  bathed  in  the  stream  of  the 
cleansing  love  of  Christ.  But  the  words  of  Christ  wake  no 
softening  thoughts  in  the  traitor's  mind. 

One  more  effort  Christ  will  make.  At  the  supper-table  He 
quotes  the  words,  "  He  that  eateth  my  bread  lifted  up  his  heel 
against  me  "  (John  xiii.  18).  Later,  still  more  explicitly,  "  One  of 
you  shall  betray  me  "  (John  xiii.  21).  Even  then  it  was  not  too 
late.  The  last  step  had  not  been  taken  by  Judas.  But,  as  with 
a  man  sliding  down  a  steep  place,  the  impetus  of  temptation  was 
too  strong.  He  takes  the  food  from  the  hand  of  Christ.  With 
treason  in  his  heart,  he  does  not  hesitate  to  take  that  pledge 
of  affection  and  loyalty.  There  is  treachery  in  doing  so;  the 
Nemesis  of  base  acts  is  further  baseness.  "  After  the  sop,  then 
Satan  entered  into  him  "  (John  xiii.  27).  The  crisis  is  passed  at 
that  moment.  He  will  not  turn  back  now.  "  That  thou  doest, 
do  quickly  "  (John  xiii.  27).  He  "  went  out  straightway ;  and  it 
was  night."  An  hour  later,  his  treason  was  an  accomplished  fact. 

The  inward  story  of  Judas's  life  is  a  story  of  help  refused  and 
warning  disregarded.  The  tender  efforts  of  his  Lord  and  Master 
to  save  him  are  put  away. 

We  should  wonder  the  less  perhaps  if  we  only  reflected  what 
a  blinding,  hardening  power,  one  fixed  idea,  one  set  purpose,  one 
dominant  passion  in  the  full  flush  and  fervour  of  its  ascendancy 
exerts  upon  the  human  spirit,  how  it  blinds  to  consequences  that 
are  staring  us  in  the  very  face,  how  it  deadens  the  remonstrances 
to  which  in  other  circumstances  we  should  have  at  once  yielded, 


THE  EXAMPLE  297 

how  it  carries  us  over  obstacles  that  at  other  times  would  at  once 
have  stopped  us ;  nay,  more — and  what  perhaps  is  the  most 
striking  feature  of  the  whole — how  the  very  interferences  for 
which  otherwise  we  should  have  been  grateful  are  resented,  how 
the  very  appeals  intended  and  fitted  to  arrest  become  as  so  many 
goads  driving  us  the  more  determinedly  down  the  path. 

U  June  26,  1886.— Lord  Chief-Baron  told  us  a  story  of  the 
ruling  passion  strong  in  death.  A  Master  in  Chancery  was  on  his 
death-bed — a  very  wealthy  man.  Some  occasion  of  great  urgency 
occurred  in  which  it  was  necessary  to  make  an  affidavit,  and  the 
attorney,  missing  one  or  two  other  Musters,  whom  he  inquired 

after,  ventured  to  ask  if  Mr. would  be  able  to  receive  the 

deposition.  The  proposal  seemed  to  give  him  momentary  strength  ; 
his  clerk  sent  for,  and  the  oath  taken  in  due  form,  the  Master 
was  lifted  up  in  bed,  and  with  difficulty  subscribed  the  paper ;  as 
he  sank  down  again,  he  made  a  signal  to  his  clerk, — "  Wallace."- 
"  Sir  ?  " — "  Your  ear — lower — lower.  Have  you  got  the  half- 
crown  ? "  He  was  dead  before  morning.1 


IV. 

TREACHERY. 

The  one  crime  which  society  judges  hardly,  for  which  it  holds 
no  penalty  too  severe,  is  treachery.  Of  other  sins  the  world  is 
a  lenient  critic.  It  deals  very  gently  with  the  profligate;  it  is 
full  of  excuses  for  the  self-willed  and  violent.  It  has  a  sympathy 
with  passion — the  passion  of  the  sensualist,  or  the  passion  of  the 
headstrong — which  softens  its  judgment.  But  the  traitor  receives 
no  mercy  at  the  bar  of  public  opinion.  The  instinct  of  self- 
preservation  does  not  leave  society  a  choice.  It  could  not  hold 
together,  if  perfidy  were  overlooked.  The  betrayal  of  a  friend, 
the  betrayal  of  a  cause,  the  betrayal  of  one's  country — these  are 
unforgiven  and  unforgotten  crimes.  Even  treachery  to  a  treacher 
ous  cause  is  barely  tolerated.  The  law  employs  it,  and  disguises 
it  with  a  specious  title.  We  call  it  "  turning  King's  evidence,"  but 
Htill  it  is  repulsive.  We  avail  ourselves  of  the  treachery,  but  we 
loathe  the  traitor.  It  is  an  ugly  name  and  an  ugly  thing,  to 
which  no  social  or  political  necessity  can  altogether  reconcile  us. 

1  Th4  Journal  of  Sir  WalUr  Scott,  216. 


298  JUDAS  ISCARIOT 

Address  the  next  man  you  meet  as  Judas,  and  he  will  probably 
be  angry.  Address  him  as  Peter  or  Thomas,  and,  unless  coin 
cidence  is  at  work,  the  probabilities  are  that  he  will  simply  be 
amused  at  your  mistake.  Why  the  difference  ?  It  is  because  the 
career  of  Judas  has  indelibly  stained  his  name  with  the  suggestion 
of  treachery ;  and  all  the  world  hates  a  traitor.  In  a  large  upper 
room  in  the  Palace  of  the  Doges  in  Venice  there  is  a  series  of 
portraits  of  past  rulers  of  the  city.  One  of  the  lines  of  these 
portraits  is  broken  by  a  sudden  blank.  It  confronts  you  black 
and  sinister ;  and  naturally  you  ask  for  an  explanation.  "  There," 
answers  the  guide,  "  was  once  a  portrait  of  one  of  the  doges.  But 
he  sold  the  city  to  her  enemies;  and  so  they  blackened  his 
picture  out."  The  action  of  the  civic  authorities  expressed 
dramatically  the  attitude  of  most  of  us  towards  a  traitor. 

TJ  We  shudder  at  the  associations  called  up  by  the  memory  of 
Judas  Iscariot,  whose  very  name  has  become  a  byword ;  and 
whose  person  and  character  an  eternal  type  of  impiety,  treachery, 
and  ingratitude;  his  crime,  without  a  name,  so  distances  all 
possible  human  turpitude  that  he  cannot  even  be  held  forth  as  a 
terror  to  evil-doers  ;  we  set  him  aside  as  one  cut  off;  we  never 
think  of  him  but  in  reference  to  the  sole  and  unequalled  crime 
recorded  of  him.  Not  so  our  ancestors ;  one  should  have  lived  in 
the  middle  ages,  to  conceive  the  profound,  the  ever-present,  horror 
with  which  Judas  Iscariot  was  then  regarded.  The  devil  himself 
did  not  inspire  the  same  passionate  hatred  and  indignation. 
Being  the  devil,  what  could  he  be  but  devilish  ?  His  wickedness 
was  according  to  his  infernal  nature;  but  the  crime  of  Judas 
remains  the  perpetual  shame  and  reproach  of  our  humanity.  The 
devil  betrayed  mankind,  but  Judas  betrayed  his  God.1 

For  what  wilt  thou  sell  thy  Lord  ? 
"  For   certain    pieces    of   silver,  since   wealth    buys    the    world's 

good  word." 
But    the    world's    word,    how    canst    thou    hear    it,    while    thy 

brothers  cry  scorn  on  thy  name  ? 
And    how  shall  thy  bargain  content  thee,    when    thy  brothers 

shall  clothe  thee  with  shame  ? 

For  what  shall  thy  brother  be  sold? 

"  For   the  rosy  garland  of  pleasure,  and  the  coveted  crown  of 
gold." 

1  Mrs.  Jameson,  The  Poetry  of  Sacred  and  Legendary  Art,  i.  255. 


THE  EXAMPLE  299 

Hut    thy    soul    will    turn    them    to    thorns,    and    to    heaviness 

binding  thy  head, 
While  women  are  dying  of   shame,  and  children  are  crying  for 

bread. 

For  what  wilt  thou  sell  thy  soul  ? 

"  For  the  world."  And  what  shall  it  profit,  when  thou  shalt 
have  gained  the  whole  ? 

What  profit  the  things  thou  hast,  if  the  thing  thou  art  be  so 
mean  ? 

Wilt  thou  fill  with  the  husks  of  having  the  void  of  the  might- 
have-been  ? 1 

1  E.  Nesbit,  Bcdlcul*  and  Verses  oj  the  Spiritual  Life,  91. 


MARY    MAGDALENE. 


LITERATURE. 

Adeney,  W.  F.,  Women  of  the  New  Testament  (1899),  195. 

Baker,  F.  A.,  Sermons  (1896),  360. 

Clow,  W.  M.,  The  Day  of  the  Cross  (1909),  285. 

Diion,  A.  C.,  Milk  and  Meat  (1893),  120. 

Dods,  M.,  Footsteps  in  the  Path  of  Life  (1909),  34. 

Ealand,  F.,  The  Spirit  of  Life  (1906),  74. 

Farquhar,  J.,  The  Schools  and  Schoolmasters  of  Christ  (1911),  130. 

Gurney,  T.  A.,  The  Living  Lord  (1901),  19. 

Harden,  R.  W.,  The  Evangelists  and  the  Resurrection  (1914),  98. 

Holden,  J.  S.,  Life's  Flood-Tide  (1913),  89. 

Ingram,  A.  F.  W.,  Addresses  during  Holy  Week  (1902),  30. 

Liddon,  H.  P.,  Easter  in  St.  Paul's  (1892),  12. 

Macnutt,  F.  B.,  The  Inevitable  Christ  (1901),  17. 

Milligan,  G.,  in  Women  of  the  Bible  :  Rebekah  to  Priscilla  (1904),  217 

Morrison,  G.  H.,  The  Wings  of  the  Morning  (1907),  97. 

Stanford,  C.,  From  Calvary  to  Olivet  (1893),  33,  94. 

Stone,  D.,  The  Discipline  of  Faith  (1904),  93. 

Whyte,  A.,  Bible  Characters  :  Joseph  and  Mary  to  James  (1900),  95. 

Wiseman,  N.,  The  Messages  of  Christ,  63. 

Wright,  D.,  The  Power  of  an  Endless  Life  (1897),  189. 

Catholic  Encyclopedia,  ix.  (1910)  761  (H.  Pope). 

Dictionary  of  the  Bible,  iii.  (1900)  284  (J.  B.  Mayor). 

Dictionary  of  Christ  and  the  Gospels,  ii.  (1908)  139  (D.  Smith). 

Encyclopedia  Biblica,  iii.  (1902),  col.  2970  (P.  W.  Schmiedel). 


MARY    MAGDALENE. 

They  have  taken  away  my  Lord,  and  I  know  not  where  they  have  laid 
him. — John  xx.  13. 

LET  us  see  first  what  we  are  told  about  Mary  Magdalene,  and 
then  what  her  story  has  to  teach  ua 

I. 

WHAT  WE  KNOW  OF  MARY  MAGDALENE. 

1.  Her  name  is  probably  derived  from  the  town  of  Magdala 
or  Magadan,  now  Medjdel,  which  is  said  to  mean  "  a  tower."  It 
was  situated  at  a  short  distance  from  Tiberias,  and  is  mentioned 
in  connexion  with  the  miracle  of  the  seven  loaves.  An  ancient 
watch-tower  still  marks  the  site. 

Almost  all  we  know  of  her  early  life  is  told  us  in  a  single 
sentence  of  St.  Luke's  Gospel.  It  was  the  custom  of  devout 
Jewish  women  to  accompany  the  Rabbi  under  whose  teaching 
they  had  been  blessed,  and  to  minister  to  his  wants.  And  so  St. 
Luke  tells  us,  "  The  twelve  were  with  him,  and  certain  women 
which  had  been  healed  of  evil  spirits  and  infirmities,  Mary  that 
was  called  Magdalene,  from  whom  seven  devils  had  gone  out,  and 
Joanna  the  wife  of  Chuza  Herod's  steward,  and  Susanna,  and 
many  others,  which  ministered  unto  them  of  their  substance." 

It  must  have  often  occurred  to  thoughtful  readers  of  the 
Gospels  to  ask  how  Christ  and  His  disciples  were  supported 
during  those  three  years,  seeing  that  they  had  all  given  up  their 
ordinary  employment.  Christ  declared  when  sending  forth  His 
missionaries  that  the  labourer  was  worthy  of  his  hire,  and  told 
them  to  trust  to  the  hospitality  of  the  people ;  and  this  they  no 
doubt  did.  But  practically  it  is  not  a  satisfactory  thing  to  be 

always  thus  dependent.     There  were  times  and  places  in  which 

303 


304  MARY  MAGDALENE 

both  Christ  and  His  disciples  were  unpopular,  and  it  became 
necessary,  as  well  as  advisable,  to  be  independent.  That  they 
were  in  the  habit  of  receiving  money  for  this  purpose  is  evident 
both  from  the  fact  that  the  community  had  a  treasurer,  and  that 
we  are  told  of  the  disciples,  when  passing  through  Samaria,  going 
"  into  the  city  to  buy  food."  Where  did  they  get  the  money  ? 
The  freewill  offerings  of  people  benefited  may  have  done  some 
thing  in  this  direction,  but  looked  at  practically,  thirteen  men,  in 
a  country  like  Palestine,  could  hardly  be  wholly  supported  in  that 
way.  Besides,  we  have  no  hint  that  such  freewill  offerings  were 
either  asked  or  given.  The  true  answer  to  the  question  of  their 
support  is  that  these  women,  who  were  evidently  in  some  cases 
women  of  means,  "  ministered  unto  them  of  their  substance." 
This  indeed  is  given  as  the  explanation  of  their  presence  among 
the  disciples. 

^|  When  we  come  to  think  of  it,  how  natural  it  was  that 
Jesus  Christ  by  His  character  should  win  the  devotion  of  the 
women  of  the  world.  There  is  something  in  perfect  strength,  and 
yet  perfect  gentleness,  which  appeals  to  the  best  part  of  woman's 
nature ;  and  it  is  one  of  those  things  which  make  it  so  peculiarly 
damnable,  when  a  man  avails  himself  of  the  best  side  of  a 
woman's  nature  to  lure  her  to  her  ruin,  that  it  is  the  best  side 
which  the  strength  of  a  man  or  what  she  thinks  is  mingled 
strength  and  gentleness  really  calls  out.  And  therefore  when 
there  is  working  in  the  world  perfect  strength  and  perfect  gentle 
ness,  can  we  wonder  that  that  incarnation  of  it  won  the  heart  of 
woman  ? l 

2.  We  have  seen  that  in  the  first  mention  of  Mary  Magdalene's 
name  she  is  spoken  of  as  one  "  from  whom  seven  devils  (or 
demons)  had  gone  out "  (Luke  viii.  2).  And  without  giving  any 
mystical  interpretation  to  the  "seven,"  it  evidently  implies  a 
possession  of  peculiar  malignancy  (cf.  Luke  xi.  26).  This  is  not 
the  place  in  which  to  enter  on  a  detailed  discussion  of  the 
meaning  of  demoniacal  possession,  but  in  general  it  pointed  to  a 
wholly  abnormal  state  of  life,  in  which  the  unhappy  victims 
found  themselves  under  the  influence  of  some  evil  power  that  for 
the  time  had  gained  complete  mastery  over  them.  And  it  was 
clearly  from  some  such  miserable  state  that  Mary  had  been 

1  A.  f .  W.  Ingram,  Addrttset  during  Holy  Week,  35. 


MARY  MAGDALENE  305 

delivered  through  the  direct  intervention — so  we  may  safely  infer 
— of  Jesus  Himself. 

Perhaps  in  some  street  of  Magdala,  the  city  of  her  youth,  He 
found  her,  torn  with  frenzy ;  and  in  upon  "  the  wretchedness  of 
despair,  the  divided  consciousness,  the  long-continued  fits  of 
silence"  which  darkened  her  life,  there  broke  that  calm,  clear 
voice  which  restored  her  to  sane  and  happy  womanhood  and  freed 
her  from  the  terrors  of  the  devil-haunted  past.  No  wonder  that 
she  loved  Him  and  with  woman's  whole-hearted  devotion  hung 
about  His  footsteps  in  Galilee  and  "  ministered  unto  him,"  content 
in  some  poor  measure  thus  to  repay  her  infinite  debt ! 

Across  this  simple,  natural,  and  most  winsome  history,  tradition 
has  written  a  legend,  very  fascinating  to  morbid  and  prurient 
minds,  which  foully  asperses  the  character  of  the  Magdalene. 
She  has  been  identified  with  the  woman  who  was  a  sinner,  who 
kissed  the  feet  of  Jesus  and  wiped  her  sudden  tears  with  her 
hair.  The  name  Magdalene,  so  dear  to  the  Apostolic  band,  has 
thereby  become  a  synonym  for  a  woman  of  shame.  There  is  not 
a  particle  of  evidence  for  this  dishonouring  identification.  The 
story  of  the  woman  who  was  a  sinner  can  be  read  in  the 
preceding  chapter  of  the  same  Gospel,  and  there  is  not  a  hint  that 
she  and  Mary  are  one.  The  root  out  of  which  the  baseless  legend 
grew  is  the  suggestion  that  the  "seven  devils"  may  be  only 
another  expression  for  the  "many  sins"  in  Luke's  pathetic 
incident.  But  the  seven  devils  no  more  implied  riotous  and 
wanton  conduct  then  than  dementia  would  now.  The  simple  fact 
that  Mary  was  permitted  to  join  the  devout  women  who  followed 
Jesus,  and  is  found  in  the  companionship  of  women  of  unsullied 
name  and  of  social  honour,  is  sufficient  to  refute  the  assertion. 

Seven  times 

The  letter  that  denotes  the  inward  stain, 
He  on  my  forehead,  with  the  truthful  point 
Of  his  drawn  sword  inscribed.     And,  "  Look,"  he  cried, 
"  When  enter'd,  that  thou  wash  these  scars  away." 

We  do  not  know  just  what  Mary  Magdalene's  seven  scars 
were.  Hut  for  our  learning,  Dante's  own  seven  scars  are  written 
all  over  his  superb  autobiographical  book.  And  Dante's  identical 
scars  are  inscribed  again  every  returning  Fourth  Day  in  Bishop 
Andrewes's  Private  Devotions.  Solomon  has  the  same  scars  also ; 

MARY-SIMON — 20 


3o6  MARY   MAGDALENE 

"These  six  things  doth  the  Lord  hate.  Yea,  seven  are  an 
abomination  unto  Him."  And,  again :  "  When  he  speaketh  fair, 
believe  him  not,  for  there  are  seven  abominations  in  his  heart." 
And  John  Bunyan  has  the  very  same  number  at  the  end  of  his 
Grace  Abounding :  "  I  find  to  this  day  these  seven  abominations 
in  my  heart."  And  then  Bunyan  is  bold  enough,  and  humble- 
minded  enough,  to  actually  name  his  scars  for  the  comfort  and 
encouragement  of  his  spiritual  children.1 

3.  In  the  company  of  the  other  attendant  women  Mary 
Magdalene  travels  up  to  Jerusalem  on  that  last  dread  journey, 
which,  Jesus  had  told  them,  was  to  His  death.  She  is  of  the  group 
of  those  who  stand  afar  off  watching  the  crucifixion.  In  every 
list  of  these  women  given  by  the  Synoptic  Evangelists  her  name 
comes  first.  It  would  seem,  therefore,  that  here  also  Mary  Magda 
lene  may  have  taken  the  lead  among  the  women.  Perhaps  it  was 
her  devotion  that  encouraged  the  others  to  be  present  at  the  execu 
tion,  though  womanly  instinct  would  naturally  shrink  from  the 
appalling  spectacle.  A  fearful  fascination  draws  her  to  the  fatal 
spot,  and  she  brings  her  companions  with  her.  There  is  nothing 
to  be  done.  But  if  their  presence  were  perceived  by  the  Sufferer 
it  would  afford  that  solace  of  sympathy  for  which  His  soul  had 
more  than  once  craved  in  vain.  We  cannot  quite  bring  the 
various  accounts  into  agreement  on  this  point.  The  Synoptists 
place  the  women  "afar  off";  St.  John  at  the  foot  of  the  cross. 
His  mother  must  have  been  close  at  hand  when  Jesus  committed 
her  to  the  charge  of  the  beloved  disciple.  We  shall  never  be  able 
to  settle  some  of  these  minor  details.  But  of  course  it  is  quite 
possible  that  both  accounts  are  correct:  that  the  women  were 
first  at  a  distance,  and  then,  as  the  darkness  gathered  and  the 
agony  grew  more  intense,  crept  up  closer  till  they  actually  found 
themselves  among  the  soldiers  near  the  foot  of  the  cross. 

Mary  remains  in  the  dusk  of  the  evening  watching  what  she 
must  have  looked  on  as  the  final  resting-place  of  the  Prophet 
and  Teacher  whom  she  had  honoured.  Not  to  her  had  there  been 
given  the  hope  of  the  resurrection.  The  disciples  to  whom  the 
words  that  spoke  of  it  had  been  addressed  had  failed  to  under 
stand  them,  and  were  not  likely  to  have  reported  them  to  her. 
The  Sabbath  that  followed  brought  an  enforced  rest,  but  no  sooner 

1  A.  Whyte,  Bible  Characters,  96. 


MARY  MAGDALENE  307 

is  the  sunset  over  than  she,  with  Salome  and  Mary,  the  mother  of 
James,  "  bought  sweet  spices,  that  they  might  come  and  anoint " 
the  body,  the  interment  of  which,  on  the  night  of  the  crucifixion, 
they  looked  on  as  hasty  and  provisional. 

4.  Next  day,  being  the  first  day  of  the  week,  they  set  out  on 
their  errand  to  the  grave,  in  the  dawn.  Two  of  the  Evangelists 
use  the  phrase,  "  very  early  in  the  morning."  "  Very  early  in  the 
morning,"  St.  John  says,  "  when  it  was  yet  dark."  St.  Mark  says, 
"  After  the  sun  had  risen."  Perhaps  the  first  phrase  points  to  the 
time  when  they  left  their  lodging,  the  second  to  the  time  when 
they  reached  the  tomb.  Other  solutions  of  the  difficulty  have  been 
suggested.  It  might  not  have  been  too  dark  to  distinguish 
objects ;  the  fresh,  faint  flame  of  the  morning  might  be  already 
beginning  to  tinge  the  gloom ;  and  both  writers,  each  in  his  own 
way,  aimed  only  at  expressing  the  general  idea  that  it  was  about 
the  time  of  daybreak. 

According  to  the  most  probable  explanation  of  the  Evangelical 
narratives,  Mary  Magdalene  arrived  at  the  sepulchre  alone 
and  first  of  all.  St.  John  describes  her  as  coining  alone  to 
the  sepulchre,  finding  it  empty,  and  then  going  to  fetch  St. 
Peter  and  himself;  whereas  the  other  three  Evangelists  speak 
of  a  group  of  women,  of  whom  Mary  Magdalene  was  one, — St. 
Matthew  names  two,  St.  Mark  three, — as  visiting  the  sepulchre, 
finding  it  empty,  conversing  with  the  angels  who  guarded  it,  and 
then  going  away  to  inform  the  disciples.  Now  the  best  way  of 
accounting  for  this  divergence  is  to  make  what  in  the  circum 
stances  and  with  the  persons  concerned  would  be  a  very  natural 
assumption.  We  may  assume,  without  doing  violence  to  the  text 
of  the  Gospels,  that  this  entire  company  of  women,  of  whom 
Mary  Magdalene  was  one,  set  out  together  from  the  city  before 
daybreak  to  visit  the  tomb  of  Jesus,  which  was  outside  the  walls : 
but  that  Mary  Magdalene,  under  the  impulse  of  her  strong 
and  tender  love,  gradually  moved  away  from  the  rest,  and 
hastened  on  before  them.  Just  as  an  hour  or  two  later,  on  that 
same  morning,  St.  Peter  and  St.  John  ran  together  to  the  sepulchre, 
but  "  the  other  disciple  did  outrun  Peter,  and  came  first  to  the 
^epulchre,"  so  there  is  reason  to  think  it  had  been  with  Mary 
Magdalene.  Her  more  ardent  love  was  impatient  of  the  measured 


3o8  MARY  MAGDALENE 

pace  of  others,  who  indeed  loved  Jesus  well,  but  assuredly  loved 
Him  less  than  she. 

It  is  not  easy  to  determine  the  exact  order  of  the  events  that 
followed ;  but  apparently  Mary,  on  finding  the  tomb  empty,  at 
once  ran  and  summoned  Peter  and  John,  returning  along  with 
them.  And  then,  after  they  had  left — the  other  women  having 
previously  departed — she  herself  remained  "  standing  without  at 
the  tomb  weeping"  (John  xx.  11).  She  could  not  tear  herself 
away  from  the  spot.  Not  that  she  believed  that  Jesus  had 
actually  risen  and  would  appear  to  her ;  she  only  longed  to  know 
whither  His  body  had  been  taken. 

The  first  answer  to  her  longing  came  in  a  wholly  unexpected 
manner.  As  she  "  looked  " — and  the  word  in  the  original  points 
to  fixed,  silent  contemplation — "  into  the  tomb,"  she  saw  "  two 
angels  in  white  sitting,  one  at  the  head,  and  one  at  the  feet, 
where  the  body  of  Jesus  had  lain."  And  in  answer  to  their 
question  why  she  wept,  she  replied  in  words  in  which  all  her  love 
and  anxiety  found  expression :  "  Because  they  have  taken  away 
my  Lord,  and  I  know  not  where  they  have  laid  him."  It  never 
occurred  to  Mary  apparently  to  address  any  inquiry  to  the  angels ; 
but,  satisfied  now  that  the  tomb  was  indeed  empty,  and,  unwilling 
to  continue  a  conversation  which  served  only  to  revive  her  grief, 
"  she  turned  herself  back."  And  in  the  very  act  of  doing  so,  she 
beheld  "  Jesus  standing,  and  knew  not  that  it  was  Jesus."  Her 
eyes,  like  the  eyes  of  the  disciples  afterwards  on  the  Emmaus 
road,  were  still  holden.  Not  yet  was  she  prepared  for  the  full 
vision  of  her  glorified  Lord. 

5.  We  cannot  tell  why  Mary  did  not  at  once  see  that  it  was 
Jesus  who  was  speaking  to  her.  And  yet  her  want  of  perception 
is  not  so  very  mysterious.  She  was  not  in  the  mood  to  notice 
anybody  through  the  veil  of  her  tears.  When  the  soul  is  absorbed 
with  its  own  internal  feeling  of  sorrow,  the  faculties  of  observa 
tion  are  not  very  keen.  And  Jesus  alive  was  the  very  last  person 
Mary  expected  to  see  when  she  was  engaged  in  the  search  for  His 
dead  body.  She  took  the  Speaker  for  the  gardener,  the  most  likely 
person  to  be  found  in  this  private  enclosure  so  early  in  the  day. 
When  Jesus  was  crucified  He  was  stripped  of  His  clothes,  the 
Romans  allowing  no  clothing  to  the  victim  of  the  cross  except  the 


MARY  MAGDALENE  309 

loin-cloth — the  subligaculum.  But  this  was  all  that  labourers 
wore  at  their  work  in  the  hot  climate  of  Palestine.  If  Jesus  had 
appeared  just  as  He  would  have  been  after  leaving  the  burial 
bandages  behind  in  the  tomb,  He  would  have  looked  like  a  man 
prepared  for  his  work.  But  this  was  very  different  from  His 
appearance  with  tunic  and  cloak  as  Mary  had  been  accustomed  to 
see  Him  in  the  old  days.  It  was  quite  natural,  therefore,  that  in 
her  present  distracted  condition  of  mind  Mary  should  take  Him 
for  the  gardener,  whom  in  outward  appearance  He  resembled. 

"  Sir,"  she  said,  "  if  thou  hast  borne  him  hence,  tell  me  where 
thou  hast  laid  him,  and  I " — as  if  no  thought  of  her  woman's 
weakness  could  hinder  the  resolution — "  will  take  him  away."  It 
is  not  unnatural  to  suppose  that  at  this  point  there  was  a  pause. 
"  Mary,"  says  Dr.  Westcott,  "  received  no  answer,  and  fell  back  to 
her  former  attitude  of  mourning.  Simple  human  love  had,  as  it 
seemed,  done  its  uttermost  and  done  its  uttermost  in  vain."  But 
the  moment  of  her  greatest  need  was  the  moment  also  of  her 
highest  help.  "  Jesus  saith  unto  her,  Mary."  It  was  but  a  single 
word,  but  it  was  enough.  The  personal  address,  the  familiar  tones, 
dispelled  every  doubt.  And  at  once  she  turned  to  the  Lord  with 
the  simple  confession  of  her  new-found  faith  :  "  Rabboni ;  which  is 
to  say,  Master." 

It  seems  as  if  she  had  reached  forward  to  hold  Him  by  the 
feet,  for  He  said,  "  Touch  me  not."  He  held  her  back  as  He 
did  not  hold  back  the  others,  of  whom  it  is  said  a  little  later, 
"  They  came  and  took  hold  of  his  feet  and  worshipped  him."  He 
held  her  back  because  to  touch  His  feet  was  not  the  need  of  her 
Roul.  How  else  can  we  explain  the  difference  between  this  and 
that  which  happened  later  to  the  others  ?  He  held  her  back  that 
she  might  be  deepened.  He  pointed  her  on  to  that  spiritual 
communion  which  in  the  future  was  to  be  hers.  "  Touch  me  not ; 
for  1  am  not  yet  ascended  " — implying  the  unseen  communion 
which  was  to  be  hers  when  He  should  have  ascended  to  the  Father. 
And  He  gives  her  an  immediate  work  to  do  for  Him.  "  Go  unto 
my  brethren,  and  say  to  them,  I  ascend  unto  my  Father  and  your 
Father,  and  rny  (Jod  and  your  God." 

She  went  and  told  the  disciples  that  she  had  seen  the  Lord, 
and  with  that  her  story  ends.  Now  what  are  we  to  learn  from 
this  brief  biography  ? 


3 io  MARY  MAGDALENE 

II. 

WHAT  WE  MAY  LEARN  FROM  HER. 

1.  Mary  Magdalene's  story  tells  us  that  sorrow  is  often  Hind. — 
For  a  moment  let  us  think  of  the  last  scene.  A  sorrow,  of  which 
those  can  judge  in  part  who  have  lost  the  dearest  object  of  their 
heart's  love,  was  rending  the  soul  of  Mary.  "  She  stood  without 
at  the  sepulchre  weeping."  She  had  lost,  not  Him  only  who  had 
been  to  her  more  than  any  human  creature  can  be  to  another  in 
this  world — not  Him  only,  but  the  body;  not  even  the  poor 
comfort  was  left  of  embalming  the  body.  It  was  a  grief  too  deep 
for  fear.  The  vision  of  angels  alarmed  some  other  women.  But 
perhaps  Mary  saw  nothing  strange  in  those  appearances  through 
her  tears ;  and  there  seems  to  have  been  no  unearthly  sound  to 
her  ear  in  the  voice  which  asked,  "  Why  weepest  thou  ? "  for  it 
drew  forth  only  the  words,  "  Because  they  have  taken  away  my 
Lord,  and  I  know  not  where  they  have  laid  him."  But  now  there 
is  another  Presence  of  which  Mary  becomes  conscious.  Some 
movement  behind  her  there  may  have  been,  or  some  sound,  for  it 
is  said  she  turned  herself,  and,  being  turned,  there  was  the  figure 
of  a  man.  The  thought  of  this  sorrowing  woman  was  cramped 
within  the  closest  bonds  of  earth.  It  centred  in  a  grave.  It  was 
clinging  round  a  dead  body.  Where  was  this  dead  body  ?  It 
was  gone.  The  eye  of  Mary  was  upon  the  empty  tomb,  and  there 
her  very  soul  was  fixed.  "  I  know  not  where  they  have  laid  him." 
She  could  not  get  beyond  that.  It  held  her  bound.  Neither  the 
vision  nor  the  voice  of  an  angel  could  touch  the  numbed  sense. 
No  wonder  that  Mary  thought  this  was  the  gardener.  "  In  the 
place  where  he  was  crucified  there  was  a  garden ;  and  in  the 
garden  a  new  sepulchre  wherein  was  never  man  yet  laid.  There 
laid  they  Jesus."  There  was  no  one  so  likely  as  the  gardener  to 
be  standing  near  the  mouth  of  that  sepulchre — no  one  so  likely, 
but  yet  it  might,  of  course,  be  someone  else.  Why  did  Mary  not 
know  that  it  was  someone  else  ?  The  darkness  was  not  the  cause. 
It  was  not  darkness  that  caused  Mary  to  think  that  Man  was  the 
gardener.  "She  saw  Jesus."  St.  John's  actual  word  is,  "She 
beholdeth  Jesus";  it  expresses  the  fixing  of  the  eye  upon  an 
object  as  with  a  certain  intentness.  In  this  way  Mary,  when  she 


MARY  MAGDALENE  311 

was  turned,  looked  upon   Jesus,  but   she  knew  not  that  it  was 
Jesus. 

Sorrow  is  a  very  engrossing  thing.  We  hear  it  spoken  of  as 
a  purifying  discipline.  And  this,  no  doubt,  is  its  purpose,  and  a 
sympathizing  friend  will  tell  the  suffering  person  that  this  is  the 
purpose.  But  the  sympathizing  friend  is  not  the  suffering  person. 
It  is  so  very  easy  to  say  a  true  thing ;  but  to  feel  it,  and  give  to 
this  true  thing  the  force  which  indeed  belongs  to  it,  and  would 
come  forth  from  it  if  it  were  felt — this  is  very  hard.  Suffering 
absorbs  thought ;  it  gathers  round  itself  all  the  outgoings  of  the 
mind ;  it  tones  with  its  own  colouring  all  surrounding  objects ;  it 
looks  off  from  the  withered  treasure,  and  sees  only  the  rust  and 
the  moth ;  it  looks  off  from  the  wreck  of  property,  and  sees  only 
the  misadventure  of  circumstance  or  the  fraud  of  men ;  it  looks 
off  from  the  desolated  hearth,  and  sees  only  the  place  where  the 
dead  was  laid.  In  the  garden  it  can  see  only  the  gardener. 

TI  I  have  heard  mourners  gathered  at  a  funeral  say  afterwards, 
"  I  could  not  tell  you  who  was  there."  All  the  great  passions  in 
their  full  intensity  have  a  certain  blinding  power  about  them. 
But  neither  love  nor  hate  nor  jealousy  nor  anger  is  more  effectual 
in  sealing  up  the  eyes  than  is  the  pressure  of  overwhelming  grief.1 

When  in  darkness  and  clouds 

The  way  of  God  is  concealed, 
We  doubt  the  words  of  His  promises, 

And  the  glory  to  be  revealed. 

We  do  but  trust  in  part ; 

We  grope  in  the  dark  alone; 
Lord,  when  shall  we  see  Thee  as  Thou  art, 

And  know  as  we  are  known  ? 

We  say,  they  have  taken  our  Lord, 
And  we  know  not  where  He  lies, 

When  the  light  of  His  resurrection  morn 
Is  breaking  out  of  the  skies.2 

2.  Love  always  wins  the  victory. — For  what  is  rightly-regulated 
love  but  moral  power  of  the  highest  order  ?  As  St.  Paul  puts 
it,  "  The  love  of  Christ  constraineth  us."  Few  men  have  ever 
explored  the  heights  and  depths  of  our  human  nature  more 

1  0.  H.  Morrison,  Tht,  Wings  of  tht  Morning,  100.  »  Phrcbe  Gary. 


312  MARY  MAGDALENE 

thoroughly  than  did  St.  Augustine,  and  St.  Augustine  has  a  saying 
which  shows  how  highly  he  valued  the  invigorating  and  trans 
forming  power  of  love.  "  Only  love,"  he  said,  "  and  then  do  what 
thou  wilt."  Love  is  indeed  the  very  muscle  and  fibre  of  moral 
force.  If  the  condition  of  mankind  is  bettered,  this  is  effected  by 
those  who  love  their  fellow-men.  If  goodness  is  embodied  in  life 
and  character,  this  is  by  those  who  begin  by  seeing,  however 
imperfectly,  the  beauty  of  goodness.  They  are  enamoured  of  it 
before  they  try  to  make  it  their  own.  If  truth  is  sought  and 
found,  amid  and  across  difficulties  which  have  seemed  insuperable, 
this  is  not  seldom  by  intellects  to  which  truth  has  presented  itself 
as  an  object  in  itself  so  beautiful  as  to  win  the  love  of  their  hearts. 
And  if  Mary  rose  in  the  dark  night  to  visit  the  grave  of  her  slain 
Master,  and  to  pay  Him  such  honours  as  her  poverty  could  yield, 
this  was  because  her  soul  was  on  fire  with  the  moral  power  of  a 
strong  and  pure  affection,  which  was  to  be  rewarded  presently  by 
the  attainment  of  its  object. 

There  is  a  kind  of  love  that  faces  facts,  and  it  is  a  noble  and 
courageous  love.  It  opens  its  eyes  wide  to  dark  realities,  and 
bowing  the  head  it  says,  "  I  must  accept  them."  But  there  is  an 
agony  of  love  that  does  not  act  so;  it  hopes  against  hope  and 
beats  against  all  evidence.  It  is  only  women  who  can  love  like 
that,  and  it  was  a  love  like  that  which  inspired  Mary.  No  one 
will  ever  doubt  John's  love  to  Jesus.  No  one  will  ever  doubt  the 
love  of  Simon.  "  Simon,  son  of  Jonas,  lovest  thou  me  ? "  "  Yea, 
Lord,  thou  knowest  that  I  love  thee."  But  the  fact  remains  that 
on  that  Easter  morning  Peter  and  John  went  to  their  homes 
again,  and  only  a  woman  lingered  by  the  grave. 

The  applications  of  a  truth  like  this  crowd  upon  us !  To 
love  Jesus  with  that  absorbed  intensity  which  makes  it  the 
supreme  passion  of  the  heart  is  the  hidden  secret  of  the  Christian 
life.  It  is  good  to  assimilate  the  ideas  of  Jesus,  and  find  your 
mind  illuminated  and  your  purposes  directed  by  them.  It  is  good 
to  spend  yourself  in  His  service,  and  find  your  energies  freely  and 
joyfully  exercised  in  it.  It  is  good  to  see,  in  moments  of  faith, 
the  coming  of  His  Kingdom,  and  to  mark  how  all  the  toils  and 
efforts  and  aspirations  of  men  are  hastening  its  consummation. 
But  it  is  better  to  love  Jesus.  For  then  no  word  of  His  shall  be 
dark,  no  call  of  His  shall  be  strange,  and  the  very  desires  of  His 


MARY  MAGDALENE  313 

heart  shall  be  ours.  Until  you  have  come  to  the  hour  when  a 
sense  of  Christ's  personal  love  and  leading  awakes  within  you  that 
sense  of  need  which  can  be  satisfied  only  by  giving,  that  love 
which  is  stronger  than  death,  you  have  not  come  to  the  hour  for 
which  your  soul  is  waiting — waiting  as  the  trees  wait  for  the 
spring,  as  the  poet  waits  for  his  song ! 

^[  9th  December,  1710. — This  night  I  was  in  bad  case.  I  find 
it  is  not  easy  for  me  to  carry  right,  either  with  or  without  the 
cross.  While  I  was  walking  up  and  down  my  closet  in  heaviness, 
my  little  daughter  Jane,  whom  I  had  laid  in  bed,  suddenly  raising 
up  herself  said,  She  would  tell  me  a  note;  and  thus  delivered 
herself : — Mary  Magdalen  went  to  the  sepulchre. — She  went  back 
again  with  them  to  the  sepulchre ;  but  they  would  not  believe 
that  Christ  was  risen,  till  Mary  Magdalen  met  Him ;  and  He 
said  to  her,  "  Tell  My  brethren,  they  are  My  brethren  yet."  This 
she  pronounced  with  a  certain  air  of  sweetness.  It  took  me  by 
the  heart:  "His  brethren  yet"  (thought  I);  and  may  I  think  that 
Christ  will  own  me  as  one  of  His  brethren  yet  ?  It  was  to  me 
aa  life  from  the  dead.1 

Then  comes  the  happy  moment:  not  a  stir 
In  any  tree,  no  portent  in  the  sky : 
The  morn  doth  neither  hasten  nor  defer, 
The  morrow  hath  no  name  to  call  it  by, 
But  life  and  joy  are  one, — we  know  not  why, — 
As  though  our  very  blood  long  breathless  lain 
Had  tasted  of  the  breath  of  God  again. 

And  having  tasted  it  I  speak  of  it, 
And  praise  Him  thinking  how  I  trembled  then 
When  His  touch  strengthened  me,  as  now  I  sit 
In  wonder,  reaching  out  beyond  my  ken, 
Reaching  to  turn  the  day  back,  and  my  pen 
Urging  to  tell  a  tale  which  told  would  seem 
The  witless  phantasy  of  them  that  dream. 

But  0  most  blessed  Truth,  for  Truth  Thou  art, 

Abide  Thou  with  me  till  my  life  shall  end. 

Divinity  hath  surely  touched  my  heart ; 

I  have  possessed  more  joy  than  earth  can  lend : 

I  may  attain  what  time  shall  never  spend. 

Only  let  not  my  duller  days  destroy 

The  memory  of  Thy  witness  and  my  joy.1 

1  Memoirs  of  Thoma*  Botton  of  EUrick.  •  Robert  Bridges. 


3i4  MARY  MAGDALENE 

3.  To  the  love  that  conquers  is  given  the  service  of  lorr. — "  Go 
unto  my  brethren,  and  say  to  them,  I  ascend  unto  my  Father  and 
your  Father,  and  my  God  and  your  God."  Jesus  gives  Mary  a 
work  to  do:  to  tell  His  brethren  of  His  resurrection  and  His 
coming  ascension ;  reminding  them  that  His  Father  is  their 
Father,  His  God  their  God.  It  is  ever  so  with  us.  Each  Christian 
life  ought  to  be  a  life  of  witness.  Each  Christian  life  ought  to 
bear  its  testimony  to  the  great  facts  of  the  Christian  religion. 
"  Go  unto  my  brethren,  and  say  to  them  " — sometimes  in  word, 
always  in  life.  "They  took  knowledge  of  them,  that  they  had 
been  with  Jesus."  Those  who  see  our  lives  ought  to  discern  in 
them  a  power  that  is  not  of  ourselves.  They  ought  to  know  that 
God  is  our  Father,  and  that  we  are  His  children.  They  ought  to 
know  that  God  is  our  God,  and  that  we  receive  gifts  from  Him. 
They  ought  to  know  that  our  Lord  has  ascended  into  heaven,  and 
that  from  heaven  He  pours  into  us  His  own  risen  and  ascended  life. 

The  work  of  bearing  witness  will  be  as  different  as  our  lives 
are  different.  It  may  be  a  witness  to  be  borne  to  many,  or  it  may 
be  a  witness  to  be  borne  to  few ;  it  may  be  a  witness  to  be  borne 
only  to  one  other  soul ;  but  there  it  is — a  witness  to  be  borne  by 
every  Christian  in  his  own  day  of  grace.  "  Ye  shall  be  witnesses 
unto  me."  "  My  witnesses."  Often  we  forget  the  witness-bearing 
of  life.  Often  we  are  tempted  to  think  that  in  other  circumstances, 
other  conditions,  we  could  do  something  worth  doing  for  our  Lord, 
and  to  forget  that  just  where  we  are  lies  the  power  of  our  life  that 
should  be  shining  out  to  others.  I  live,  yet  Christ  liveth  and 
worketh  in  me ;  and  because  of  that  there  ought  to  be  a  mark  on 
my  life  which  makes  it  a  life  of  witness.  How  we  should  treasure 
the  thought,  how  we  should  value  the  truth,  that  through  us 
others  may  be  helped  and  led  on  in  the  Christian  life !  How  we 
should  treasure  the  thought  that,  in  the  far-off  Eternity,  one  other 
soul  that  should  otherwise  have  been  lost  has  been  saved,  because 
we  bore  witness  without  knowing,  perhaps,  what  we  were  doing ; 
not,  indeed,  of  our  own  strength,  but  because  we  had  received  the 
life  of  Him  who  has  ascended  to  the  Father ;  for  all  that  makes 
anything  in  us  a  witness  for  good  comes  from  that  stream  of  life 
which  He  Himself  pours  into  us, 

U  Is  not  the  trouble  with  most  of  our  witnessing  for  God  that 
it  is  inconstant  and  inconsistent,  lacking  unity  as  well  as  con- 


MARY  MAGDALENE  315 

tinuity?  What  is  our  hope  but  the  indwelling  Spirit  of  Christ, 
to  bring  every  thought  into  captivity  to  the  obedience  of  Christ, 
to  inspire  every  word  and  deed  by  His  love  ?  Then  will  "  broken 
lights  "  blend  in  steady  shining,  the  fractional  be  summed  up  in 
the  integral,  and  life,  unified  and  beautified  by  the  central  Christ, 
radiate  God's  glory,  and  shine  with  divine  effulgence.1 

Take  all  in  a  word;  the  Truth  in  God's  breast 
Lies  trace  for  trace  upon  our's  impressed : 
Though  He  is  BO  bright,  and  we  are  so  dim, 
We  are  made  in  His  image  to  witness  Him.2 

1  M.  D.  Babcock,  Thoughts  for  Every-Day  Living,  ft. 
1  R.  Browning. 


MARTHA  AND  MARY. 


LITERATURE. 

Adeney,  W.  F  ,  Women  of  the  New  Testament  (1899),  160. 

Aitkeii,  VV.  H.  M.  H.,  The  Highway  of  Holiness,  141,  157. 

Albertson,  C.  C.,  The  Gospel  According  to  Christ  (1899),  91. 

Brooke,  S.  A.,  The  Kingship  of  Love  (1903),  253. 

Bushnell,  H.,  Christ  and  His  Salvation,  39. 

Campbell,  W.  M.,  Foot-Prints  of  Christ  (1889),  201. 

Candlish,  R.  S.,  Scripture  Characters  (1872),  217. 

Chadwick,  W.  E.,  Christ  and  Everyday  Life  (1910),  144. 

Kdersheim,  A.,  The  Life  and  Times  of  Jesus  the  Messiah,  ii.  (1887)  146. 

312,  322,  358. 

Fiirst,  A.,  True  Nobility  of  Character  (1884),  16. 
Harris,  J.  R.,  Aaron's  Breastplate  (1908),  51. 
Home,  C.  S.,  The  Relationships  of  Life,  31. 

Keble,  J.,  Sermons  far  the  Christian  Year  :  Miscellaneous  (1880),  289. 
Leathes,  A.  S.,  The  Kingdom  Within  (1910),  76. 
Lockyer,  T.  F.,  The  Inspirations  of  the  Christian  Life  (1894),  226. 
Matheson,  G.,  Words  by  the  Wayside  (1896),  6. 
Meyer,  F.  B.,  in  The  Life  and  Work  of  the  Redeemer  (1901),  130. 
Morris,  A.  J.,  The  Open  Secret  (1869),  74. 
Morrison,  G.,  The  House  of  God  (1875),  159. 
Moule,  II.  C.  G.,  From  Sunday  to  Sunday  (1903),  171. 
Purchase,  E.  J.,  The  Pathway  of  the  Tempted  (1905),  172. 
Rigg,  J.  H.,  Scenes  and  Studies  in  the  Ministry  of  Our  Lord  (1901),  133, 

156. 

Rowlaiids,  D.,  in  Women  of  the  Bible  :  Rebekah  to  Priscilla  (1904),  153. 
Russell,  A.,  The  Light  that  Lighteth  every  Man  (1889),  225. 
Stimson,  II.  A.,  The  New  Things  of  God  (1908),  141. 
Thompson,  J.  R.,  Burden  Bearing  (1905),  135. 
Trumlmll,  H.  C.,  Our  Misunderstood  Bible  (1907),  217. 
Watson,  J.,  The  Life  of  the  Master  (1902),  307. 


3'? 


MARTHA  AND  MARY. 

Now  as  they  went  on  their  way,  he  entered  into  a  certain  village  :  and  a 
certain  woman  named  Martha  received  him  into  her  house.  And  she  had  a 
sister  called  Mary,  which  also  sat  at  the  Lord's  feet,  and  heard  his  word. 
But  Martha  was  cumbered  about  much  serving  ;  and  she  came  up  to  him, 
and  said,  Lord,  dost  thou  not  care  that  my  sister  did  leave  me  to  serve  alone  ? 
bid  her  therefore  that  she  help  me.  But  the  Lord  answered  and  said  unto 
her,  Martha,  Martha,  thou  art  anxious  and  troubled  about  many  things :  but 
one  thing  is  needful :  for  Mary  hath  chosen  the  good  part,  which  shall  not  be 
taken  away  from  her. — Luke  x.  38-42. 

THE  Gospels  show  us  our  Lord  in  public — in  the  Temple  of 
Jerusalem,  in  the  high  priest's  palace,  in  Pilate's  judgment-hall, 
on  the  green  hill  outside  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  Capernaum,  or  on  the  lake  where 
the  eager  people  crowded  the  shore.  We  see  Him  as  a  Prophet, 
Keformer,  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 
publican's  house  in  Capernaum  which  was  sacred  because  Jesus 
had  feasted  there  and  sealed  as  in  a  sacrament  the  salvation  of 
Levi ;  and  Zacchseus,  to  the  last  day  of  his  life,  saw  the  Master 
crossing  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 


320  MARTHA  AND  MARY 

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. 

We  meet  with  that  most  interesting  of  all  New  Testament 
households,  the  Bethany  family,  on  three  occasions  in  the  course 
of  the  gospel  history.  Twice  the  sisters  are  brought  together  on 
the  scene ;  in  the  third  case  the  younger  alone  appears.  This 
statement  goes  on  the  assumption  that  the  Mary  and  Martha  of 
St.  Luke  are  the  same  two  sisters  whom  St.  John  brings  before  us 
in  his  account  of  the  raising  of  Lazarus ;  it  also  rests  on  that 
Evangelist's  identification  of  the  woman  anointing  Jesus  with  the 
costly  spikenard,  whose  name  is  not  given  in  the  two  Synoptic 
accounts  of  the  incident — Matthew  and  Mark — with  Mary  of 
Bethany. 

^|  The  connexion  of  the  three  incidents  with  the  same  family 
is  not  so  absolutely  certain  as  is  commonly  supposed  ;  at  least 
there  have  been  careful  readers  to  whom  it  has  appeared  more 
than  doubtful.  St.  Luke,  it  may  be  observed,  gives  us  only  the 
earlier  incident, — that  in  which  Mary  sits  at  the  feet  of  Jesus  while 
Martha  is  cumbered  with  much  serving,  an  incident  which  we 
meet  with  in  his  Gospel  alone, — this  evangelist  neither  mention 
ing  the  raising  of  Lazarus,  which  is  not  referred  to  by  any  of  the 
synoptists,  nor  giving  the  anointing  in  the  last  week  at  Jerusalem, 
which  the  other  two  Synoptic  Gospels  record.  In  introducing 
his  story  he  does  not  fix  the  locality  at  Bethany ;  he  simply  says 
that  "  as  they  went  on  their  way  "  Jesus  "  entered  into  a  certain 
village,"  not  naming  the  place,  apparently  for  the  reason  that  he 
does  not  know  where  it  is.  But  since  he  inserts  the  incident  in 
the  course  of  his  account  of  a  tour  in  Galilee,  the  impression  left 
on  the  mind  of  an  unprejudiced  reader  would  naturally  be  that 
the  unknown  village  was  situated  somewhere  in  that  district. 
Hence  harmonists  have  suggested  that  the  family  had  been  living 
at  the  earlier  period  in  Galilee,  and  had  subsequently  moved  to 
the  neighbourhood  of  Jerusalem,  while,  on  the  other  hand,  there 
have  not  been  wanting  critics  who  have  pounced  on  the  seeming 
discrepancy  as  an  evidence  of  the  untrustworthiness  of  the  Fourth 
Gospel,  the  author  of  which,  they  have  suggested,  has  arbitrarily 
transported  Mary  and  Martha  from  the  north  country  to  Bethany. 
But  surely  it  is  enough  to  suppose  that  St.  Luke  inserts  his 
incident  where  it  occurs  in  his  Gospel,  with  its  vague  indication 
of  locality,  because  there  was  nothing  in  the  source  from  which  he 


MARTHA  AND  MARY  321 

derived  it  to  determine  where  it  occurred.  It  may  be  remarked 
that  immediately  before  this  he  gives  the  parable  of  the  (Jood 
Samaritan,  the  scene  of  which  is  laid  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Jerusalem,  and  which  therefore  would  be  most  appropriately 
spoken  by  our  Lord  in  that  locality.  May  it  be  that  both  of  these 
paragraphs  come  from  some  fragmentary  notes  of  one  of  Christ's 
visits  to  Jerusalem  which  failed  to  state  the  locality  to  which 
they  belonged  ? 

There  is  not  only  the  fact  of  the  names  being  the  same,  and 
Martha  is  by  no  means  so  common  a  name  as  Mary.  The  distinc 
tive  traits  of  character  which  come  out  with  startling  vividness  in 
the  Third  Gospel  are  repeatedly  suggested  by  more  delicate  hints 
in  the  Fourth,  raising  the  probability  practically  to  a  certainty 
that  we  have  the  same  pair  of  sisters  introduced  to  us  in  each 
case.1 


L 

BETHANY. 

Bethany  is  mentioned  neither  in  the  Canonical  books  nor  in 
the  Apocrypha  of  the  Old  Testament ;  it  makes  its  appearance 
for  the  first  time  in  the  New  Testament,  and  is  not  named  in 
Josephus.  Its  situation  is  relatively  easy  to  determine.  We 
know  that  it  was  on  the  road  from  Jericho  to  Jerusalem,  at  a 
distance  of  fifteen  furlongs  from  the  latter,  lying  thus  on  the  east, 
or  rather  south-east  side  of  the  Mount  of  Olives.  Origen  asserts 
that  in  his  time  the  position  of  Bethany  was  known.  In  the 
fourth  century,  the  Bordeaux  Pilgrim  mentions  a  place  where  the 
"crypta"  of  Lazarus  was  to  be  seen.  Eusebius  records  that  "the 
place  of  Lazarus  "  was  shown,  and  Jerome  adds  that  it  was  two 
miles  from  Jerusalem. 

The  village  still  exists.  As  the  traveller  leaves  Jerusalem 
upon  the  Jericho  road,  he  arrives,  after  about  half  an  hour's  walk 
from  the  Damascus  gate,  which  takes  him  into  the  Kedron  valley, 
and  then  upward  around  the  southern  shoulder  of  Olivet,  at  the 
houses,  grey,  dilapidated,  and  not  beautiful,  of  Bethany.  Or  he 
may  take  another  line,  and  ascend  Olivet  to  its  summit,  past  the 
obtrusive  structure  of  the  huge  Russian  convent  at  the  top  of  the 
road,  and  then  find  his  way  over  fence  and  field  to  the  minor  hills 

1  W.  F.  Adenej. 
WARY-SIMON — 21 


322  MARTHA  AND  MARY 

of  the  eastward  side  of  the  mountain,  where  it  looks  down  upo' 
Bethany. 

There  is  a  charm  about  the  surroundings,  certainly  when  seen 
in  spring,  as  there  always  is  a  charm  over  the  rural  landscape  of 
that  land  of  many-hued  soil  and  of  thronging  flowers.  But  the 
villages  of  Palestine  are  seldom  if  ever  in  themselves  pleasant  to 
the  eye,  and  certainly  Bethany  is  not ;  actual  or  impending  decay 
seems  written  upon  its  dwellings.  Yes,  but  still  it  is  Bethany. 
The  immortal  memories  dignify  and  beautify  it  all.  For,  indeed, 
there  is  that  wonderful  peculiarity  about  the  memories  of 
Palestine,  that  they  are  memories  and  so  much  more.  In  Rome, 
and  in  Athens,  our  thoughts  are  with  "  the  great  departed  "  in 
"the  silent  land."  At  Jerusalem  they  are  with  Him  who  was 
dead,  but  behold  He  is  alive  for  evermore ;  His  very  name  is  life 
and  hope ;  He  is  Lord  of  the  future  even  more  than  of  the  past ; 
He  is,  above  all  things,  Lord  of  the  present,  "  with  us,  all  the  days." 

^|  There  are  particular  times  when  the  name  has  a  particularly 
soothing  music  in  its  sound  for  the  Christian.  Whisper  to  him  of 
Bethany,  when  he  sits  in  his  desolate  home,  and,  wandering  back 
through  the  past,  thinks  of  a  face  that  is  vanished,  a  voice  that  is 
mute,  and  a  sacred  mound  in  the  churchyard, — whisper  to  him 
then  of  Bethany,  and  his  grief  is  assuaged,  as  he  thinks  that  Jesus 
wept  there,  and  his  face  brightens,  as  he  gets  a  motto  from  the 
Lord's  own  lips  which  faith  can  inscribe  on  the  tombstone, "  I  am 
the  resurrection  and  the  life :  he  that  believeth  in  me,  though  he 
were  dead,  yet  shall  he  live."  Whisper  to  him  of  Bethany  in 
those  moments  of  half-unbelief,  when  doubts  and  fears  about  the 
grounds  of  his  religious  opinions,  and  the  reality  of  things  unseen 
assert  themselves — when  suspicions  which  he  thought  had  been 
shorn  of  their  strength,  rise  again  Samson-like,  and,  laying  their 
hands  on  the  pillars  that  support  his  hopes,  threaten  to  shake  the 
whole  fabric  into  ruins ;  speak  to  him  of  Bethany  then,  and  his 
faith  again  triumphs,  as  he  sees  Him  who  had  been  crucified 
rising  up  through  the  parting  clouds  into  heaven  to  be  alive  for 
evermore,  as  His  people's  friend  and  guardian.  Whisper  to  him 
of  Bethany  when  he  is  wearied  with  his  daily  toils ;  when  the 
wrinkles  of  anxiety  come  out  on  his  brow ;  when  losses,  and 
crosses,  and  failures  have  made  him  peevish  and  morose  ;  and  he 
can  enter  the  house  of  Martha  and  Mary,  and  sitting  down  at  the 
feet  of  Jesus,  have  all  his  vexations  dissipated,  as  he  hears  about 
the  "  good  part  that  shall  never  be  taken  away." l 

1  0.  Morrison,  The  House  of  God.  159. 


MARTHA  AND   MARY  323 

II. 

THE  HOME  IN  BETHANY. 

1.  One  of  the  most  pathetic  utterances  which  Christ  ever 
made  about  Himself  is  the  single  reference  to  His  homelessness. 
"  The  foxes  have  holes,  and  the  birds  of  the  air  have  nests ;  but 
the  Son  of  man  hath  not  where  to  lay  his  head."  Christ  never 
had  a  home  of  His  own.  From  the  time  when  He  left  His  father's 
home  in  Nazareth  where  He  was  brought  up,  He  was  a  wanderer. 
To  all  the  comfort  which  the  word  suggests,  to  all  the  sacred  joy 
associated  with  the  name,  He  was  a  complete  stranger.  That  His 
nature  craved  for  fellowship  is  evidenced  by  the  references  He 
made  to  His  loneliness,  and  by  His  frequent  communion  with  the 
Father.  That  He  needed  the  quietness  and  peace  which  others 
find  within  the  privacy  of  their  own  homes  is  proved  by  His 
frequent  retirements  to  the  solitude  of  the  desert  or  of  the 
mountain.  The  home  at  Bethany  appears  to  have  been  to  Christ 
a  haven  of  quiet  and  rest,  where  He  sought  refuge  from  the 
storms  and  tumult  to  which  His  Judrean  ministry  exposed  Him. 
It  was  a  land-locked  harbour  protected  from  the  wild  gusts  of 
fierce  passion  and  bitter  malice  which  confronted  Him  as  He 
steered  His  course  amidst  the  angry  billows  and  sunken  rocks  of 
the  neighbouring  Jerusalem.  In  Bethany  there  was  always  a 
home  which  offered  a  loving  welcome,  and  there  were  hearts  which 
responded  with  a  sincere  ail'ection. 

It  was,  as  the  whole  history  shows,  a  wealthy  home.  It  con 
sisted  of  two  sisters — the  elder,  Martha  (a  not  uncommon  Jewish 
name,  being  the  feminine  of  Mar,  and  equivalent  to  our  word 
"  mistress  ") ;  the  younger,  Mary ;  and  their  brother  Lazarus,  or, 
Laazar. 

It  was  a  beautiful  friendship  that  united  the  Lord  with  this 
family.  Their  home  was  very  evidently  one  of  His  favourite 
resorts.  He  turned  to  it  for  its  friendly  peace.  Perhaps  He 
found  in  this  little  circle  a  love  that  was  not  tainted  with  inter 
ested  ambition.  Perhaps  He  found  a  friendship  that  sought  no 
gift  and  coveted  no  place.  Perhaps  He  found  a  full-orbed 
sympathy,  unbroken  by  suspicion  or  reserve.  Perhaps  He  found 
a  confidence  which  was  independent  of  the  multitude,  and  which 


324  MARTHA  AND  MARY 

remained  quietly  steadfast  whether  He  moved  in  public  favour  or 
in  public  contempt.  At  any  rate,  Jesus  was  at  home  "  in  the 
house  of  Martha  and  Mary,"  and  here  all  unnecessary  reticence 
was  changed  into  free  and  sunny  communion.  He  loved  to  turn 
from  the  heated,  feverish  atmosphere  of  fickle  crowds  to  the  cool 
and  restful  constancy  of  these  devoted  friends.  When  the  eyes  of 
His  enemies  had  been  following  Him  with  malicious  purpose,  it 
was  spiritually  recreating  to  look  into  eyes  that  were  just  quiet 
"  homes  of  silent  prayer."  After  the  contentions  of  the  Twelve, 
and  their  frequent  disputes  as  to  who  should  be  greatest,  it  was 
good  to  be  in  this  retired  home  where  friends  found  love's  reward 
in  love's  sacrifices,  and  the  joy  of  loving  in  the  increased  capacity 
to  love.  It  is  therefore  no  wonder  to  read  that  Jesus  went  out  to 
Bethany. 

He  was  not  there  simply  to  eat,  drink,  sleep,  and  be  let  alone. 
He  could  not  be  hidden  in  that  way.  The  overflowing  soul  must 
find  expression.  And  among  friendly  hearts  and  kindred  minds  it 
would  be  a  veritable  "  saints'  rest,"  a  "  heart's  ease,"  a  garden  of 
delights,  refreshing  to  the  soul  as  the  work  of  Eden,  to  hold 
converse  concerning  the  things  of  the  Kingdom.  Such  work  and 
fellowship,  so  like  to  those  of  heaven,  would  also  be  allied  thereto 
in  the  rest  involved. 

The  fellowship  of  kindred  minds 
Is  like  to  that  above. 

2.  The  Gospels  give  us  three  scenes  in  the  family  life  of  the 
two  sisters  and  their  brother,  in  each  of  which  Jesus  is  the 
central  figure. 

(1)  The  first  is  a  picture  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  Jerusalem, 
which  He  had  been  visiting  at  a  Feast,  Jesus,  who  had  no  love  for 
cities,  escaped  to  Bethany  for  rest.  Whereupon  we  see  the  kindly 
Martha  showing  her  affection  in  much  serving,  impatient  with 
her  sister  because  she  thought  she  neglected  the  offices  of  a  genial 
hospitality.  We  see  there,  too,  the  pensive  and  spiritual  Mary 
sitting  at  Jesus'  feet,  earnestly  drinking  in  the  words  that  fell 
from  His  lips.  We  seem  to  hear  the  gentle  but  serious  rebuke 
addressed  to  the  one,  and  the  language  almost  of  benediction  in 


MARTHA  AND  MARY  325 

which  He  commended  the  other  who,  He  said,  "  hath  chosen  the 
good  part,  which  shall  not  be  taken  away  from  her." 

(2)  The  second  visit  of  Jesus  to  Bethany  is  associated  with 
one  of  those  swift  and  unexpected  family  calamities  which  affect 
the  imagination  by  their  poignant  contrast,  and  invest  life  with  a 
profound  seriousness. 

Lazarus  lay  dead ;  the  light  of  his  sisters'  domestic  life  seemed 
extinguished  for  ever,  and  the  whole  world  seemed  desolate  and 
blighted ;  their  hearts  sank  within  them  under  the  cruel  weight 
of  a  great  sorrow.  And  in  that  hour  of  anguish  and  distress  to 
whom  did  their  thoughts  turn  ?  To  the  Man  whom  Martha  had 
received.  But  the  long  hours  creep  slowly  away,  and  still  Jesus 
does  not  appear.  "  Oh,  if  He  were  here  our  brother  would  not 
die ! "  And  then  when  the  funeral  is  over,  and  the  first  inten 
sity  of  the  anguish  has  passed  away,  a  rumour  reaches  them  of 
His  approach.  Martha  hears  it.  The  Master  is  coming,  and 
Martha,  with  her  natural  impulsiveness,  rushes  out  to  meet  Him, 
and  salutes  Him  with  the  words  which  had  been  rising  in  her 
heart  over  and  over  again  all  the  time — "  Lord,  if  thou  hadst  been 
here  my  brother  had  not  died."  And  there  He  stands  gazing 
at  her — oh,  how  tenderly — and  she  hears  Him  groaning  in  His 
troubled  spirit.  Mary  has  joined  them  now,  and  tears  are  flowing 
fast  all  round,  and  His  eyes  are  dry  no  longer.  What  a  moment 
it  must  have  been  for  Mary  and  Martha  when  they  knew  that  He 
who  loved  them  so  truly  was  weeping  as  with  their  tears,  and 
sharing  their  sorrow  !  "  Jesus  wept " ;  and  the  friends  around  said, 
as  well  they  might,  "  Behold,  how  he  loved  him ! "  Another 
moment  and  Jesus  was  standing  by  the  closed  tomb,  lifting  up 
His  heart  in  that  wonderful  prayer,  "  Father,  I  thank  thee  that 
thou  hast  heard  me."  They  stood  looking  on,  wondering  what 
was  to  come  next.  Then  was  heard  the  voice  of  power,  "Lazarus, 
come  forth,"  and  he  that  was  dead  came  forth.  The  king  of 
terrors  yields  his  prey  and  gives  back  his  victim  to  the  glories 
of  a  new,  a  resurrection  life.  There  he  stands  before  them,  the 
very  Lazarus  that  they  had  lost,  their  own  dearly  loved  brother 
BtilL  What  a  moment  it  was  when  the  man  whom  they  had 
mourned  as  dead  clasped  his  sisters  to  his  bosom  !  One  can 
imagine  the  joy  too  deep  for  words  that  tilled  their  hearts  and 
welled  up  in  their  brimming  eyos,  while  He  who  was  the  Resurrec- 


326  MARTHA  AND  MARY 

tion  and  the  Life  looked  on,  smiling  on  all  the  ecstasy  which  He 
had  caused. 

Tj  Those  who  believe  in  Jesus  may  weep  for  their  dead,  for 
Jesus  wept.  But  they  may  not  doubt  His  love  in  suffering  them 
to  die ;  they  may  not  doubt  that  for  them  the  transition  is  blest. 
Still  may  we  treasure  that  of  them  which  is  dear. 

We  make  them  a  hidden,  quiet  room 
Far  in  the  depth  of  our  spirit's  gloom : 
Thither,  0  thither,  wrung  with  woe, 
In  yearning  love  we  often  go : 
There,  0  there,  do  the  loved  abide, 
Shadowy,  silent,  sanctified ! 

But  they  in  their  true  life  are  with  the  Lord. 

It  is  they  who  lament  for  us  who  are 
From  the  eternal  life  so  far. 

And  therefore  we  will  take  up  the  language  of  faith  and  hope, 
and  say — 

If  this  be  so,  we  shall  look  no  more 
At  the  night  of  the  former  gloom : 
We  shall  not  stay  and  make  sad  delay 
At  the  dark  and  awful  tomb, 
But  rather  take  to  our  mourning  hearts 
The  balm  and  blessing  this  trust  imparts — 
What  the  Scripture  saith  in  the  ear  of  Faith 
Of  the  excellent  joys  that  crown  the  head 
Of  every  one  of  the  faithful  dead.1 

(3)  Once  more  we  see  Jesus  with  His  friends,  and  now  the 
circumstances  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  may  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,  now  surrounded  with  a 
mysterious  awe,  sits  with  Jesus  at  the  table ;  Martha,  as  was  her 

1  A.  Russell,  The  Light  that  Liyhteth  every  Man,  230. 


MARTHA  AND  MARY  327 

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  to  a  dead  body,  and 
render  it  when  the  person  can  receive  no  satisfaction  ?  Far 
better  that  in  their  lifetime  our  friends  should  know  that  they 
are  loved,  and  should  be  braced  for  suffering  by  the  devotion  of 
loyal  hearts.  Before  His  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  may  be  still  on  His 
hair  when  He  hangs  upon  the  cross. 

The  odour  of  ointment  filled  the  room,  and  two  persons  passed 
judgment.  One  understood  and  condemned — Judas,  who  was 
arranging  the  betrayal  of  Jesus,  and  had  lost  an  increase  for  his 
bag.  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  beautiful  in  its  grace  and  spiritual 
delicacy  was  her  act  that  Jesus  declared  it  would  be  told  to  her 
praise  wherever  the  Gospels  were  read. 

U  The  Onyx  is  the  type  of  all  stones  arranged  in  bands  of 
different  colours ;  it  means  primarily,  nail-stone  —  showing  a 
separation  like  the  white  half-crescent  at  the  root  of  the  finger 
nail  ;  not  without  some  idea  of  its  subjection  to  laws  of  life.  .  .  . 
Banded  or  belted  stones  include  the  whole  range  of  marble,  and 
especially  alabaster,  giving  the  name  to  the  alabastra,  or  vases 
used  especially  for  the  containing  of  precious  unguents,  them 
selves  more  precious;  so  that  this  stone,  as  best  representative  of 
all  others,  is  chosen  to  be  the  last  gift  of  men  to  Christ,  as  gold 
is  their  first;  incense  with  both:  at  His  birth,  gold  and  frank 
incense;  at  His  death,  alabaster  and  spikenard.  .  .  .  These  vases 
for  precious  perfume  were  tall,  and  shaped  like  the  bud  of  the 
rose.  So  that  the  rosebud  itself,  being  a  vase  filled  with  perfume, 
is  called  also  "  alabastron  " ;  and  Pliny  uses  that  word  for  it  in 
describing  the  growth  of  the  rose.1 

1  Ru.skin,  Deucalion,  vol.  i.  chap.  vii.  §  15  (  Works,  xxvi.  172). 


328  MARTHA  AND  MARY 

If  The  vulgar  irritation  of  the  apostles  at  the  "  waste  "  involved 
in  this  beautiful  and  significant  act  of  the  anointing  of  the 
Messiah — those  very  apostles  from  whom  had  come  Peter's  con 
fession  and  who  had  seen  the  Transfiguration  ecstasy — gives  us 
the  measure  of  the  disharmony,  the  utter  want  of  comprehension, 
the  creeping  conviction  of  failure,  now  existing  amongst  them. 
Eomantic  enthusiasm  has  been  transformed  into  prudence  and 
"  common  sense " :  perhaps  the  worst  form  of  degeneration  with 
which  any  leader  of  men  has  to  contend.  Through  their 
unworthy  and  unloving  criticisms  strikes  the  solemn  and  tragic 
comment  of  Jesus  on  this,  probably  the  greatest  spontaneous 
acknowledgment  of  Messiahship  which  He  received — "  She  hath 
done  what  she  could.  She  is  come  aforehand  to  anoint  my  body 
to  the  burying."  They  are  the  loneliest  words  in  literature. 
Removing  their  speaker  by  a  vast  distance  from  the  common 
prudent  life  of  men,  from  all  human  ideals  and  hopes,  they  bear 
within  themselves  the  whole  mystery  of  the  Cross,  the  "King 
reigning  from  the  Tree." l 


III. 

THE  SISTERS. 

The  three  scenes  in  the  house  at  Bethany  are  not  all  related 
in  the  same  Gospel,  yet  the  sisters  are  true  to  their  character 
throughout. 

Now,  if  we  were  to  read  even  a  small  part  of  the  literature 
that  has  been  written  on  Martha  and  Mary,  we  should  be 
astonished  and  perhaps  bewildered  by  the  variety  of  ways  in 
which  their  characters  are  contrasted. 

1.  "  Martha,"  says  an  American  author,  "  is  the  ritualistic 
Episcopalian,  proper,  orderly,  devout,  reading  her  prayers  from 
a  book,  and  worshipping  in  silence  her  acknowledged  Lord.  But 
Mary  is  inclined  to  be  an  unconventional  Methodist,  zealous, 
impulsive,  careless  of  precedent,  praying  the  prayer  that  springs 
to  her  lips  from  an  overflowing  heart,  and  expressing  her  gratitude 
in  most  unexpected  ways."  To  complete  the  picture,  Lazarus  is 
offered  as  "  the  Presbyterian  of  the  family,  solid,  sound,  silent, 
philosophical." 

1  Evelyn  Underbill,  The  Mystic  Way,  131. 


MARTHA  AND  MARY  329 

2.  By  mystical  writers  Martha  has  been  taken  to  represent 
the  active  and  Mary  the  contemplative  life.  If,  for  instance,  you 
were  to  turn  to  Madame  Guyon's  Commentaries  upon  the  interior 
sense  of  the  Scriptures,  you  would  find  her  discoursing  something 
like  this: 

"  Martha  receives  Jesus  into  her  house ;  that  is  as  much  as 
the  active  life  can  attain  to.  But  Mary,  who  signifies  the  con 
templative  life,  was  seated.  That  '  being  seated '  expresses  the 
repose  of  her  contemplation ;  in  that  sacred  rest  she  does  nothing 
but  listen  to  the  voice  of  her  dear  Master,  who  teaches,  nourishes, 
and  quickens  her  with  His  own  word.  Oh  !  Mary,  happy  Mary, 
to  hear  that  word !  It  made  itself  heard  because  you  put  your 
self  in  a  state  to  hear  it :  you  listened  for  it,  and  you  rested  in 
that  silence  and  that  peace  without  which  it  is  not  possible  to 
hear  that  word  which  is  heard  only  in  heart-silence ! " 

St.  Teresa,  however,  whom  Dr.  Rendel  Harris  calls  "  the  most 
practical  and  level-headed  of  the  ascetical  school  of  mystics," 
shows  an  inclination  towards  Martha  and  away  from  Mary,  as 
commonly  interpreted  ;  and  we  can  perhaps  read  between  the  lines 
and  conclude  that  she  had  been  a  little  overdone  with  those  in  her 
convent  who  practised  too  exclusively  the  cult  of  the  younger 
eister.  "  Martha,"  she  says,  "  was  a  true  saint  though  she  did  not 
achieve  Contemplation.  What  more  could  one  wish  than  like  her 
to  have  Christ  often  in  one's  house,  and  to  serve  Him  and  to  sit 
at  His  very  table  ?  Had  Martha  been  rapt  like  Mary,  who  would 
have  given  the  Lord  to  eat?  Those  of  the  Active  life  are  the 
soldiers  who  fight  in  the  battles ;  those  of  the  Contemplative  are 
the  standard-bearers  who  carry  aloft  the  banner  of  humanity, 
across  which  lies  the  Cross.  And  remember,  if  the  standard- 
bearer  drops  the  standard,  the  battle  has  to  be  lost." 

Oh,  when  those  mystic  barriers 

Our  Maries  pass,  we  dream 
That  in  some  fair  Elysian 

Their  thirst  has  found  the  Stream ; 

But  the  Marthas  are  our  cottagers 

Who  make  our  fireside  bliss. 
The  Beatific  Vision — 

She  never  talked  of  this. 


330  MARTHA  AND  MARY 

A  sudden  mist  our  seeing  blurs, 

Such  sacramental  grace 
Hath  poured  its  revelation 

Into  that  patient  face ; 

And  neighbour-hand  toward  neighbour  stirs, 

Her  sainthood  to  confess 
By  love's  own  consecration, 

Memorial  kindliness. 

3.  A  more  modern  conception,  but  somewhat  akin  to  the 
last,  is  the  contrast  that  is  seen  in  the  two  sisters  between 
the  busy,  practical  person  and  the  quiet,  thoughtful,  or  senti 
mental.  Martha  is  clear-headed,  practical,  serving  in  many 
things,  never  resting  so  much  as  when  serving.  She  would 
work,  and  keep  others  working,  and  nothing  pained  her  so 
much  as  dust  and  grime.  Mary,  her  sister,  was  quiet,  thought 
ful,  and  studious.  She  was  good  as  gold,  and  she  also  could 
work.  She  had  been  busy  all  the  morning  helping  her  sister ; 
but  when  Jesus  came,  she  would  throw  up  all  work  and  sit 
and  listen  to  Him,  and  Martha  had  to  prepare  food  and 
serve  it. 

Martha  supplies  the  business-like  prose,  Mary  the  poetry,  of 
religion,  which — though  some  may  ask,  as  did  Sir  Isaac  Newton, 
when  Paradise  Lost  was  read  to  him,  "  Very  good ;  but  what  does 
it  prove  ?  "  and  others,  "  What  does  it  do  ? " — soars  into  a  region 
too  high  for  evidences,  and  performs  service  too  refined  and  subtle 
for  ordinary  tests.  Martha  rears  the  needful  things  of  life  in  the 
garden  of  the  Lord ;  Mary  cultivates  its  flowers.  Martha  "  serves  " 
the  meals  of  "  the  household  of  faith  " ;  Mary  brings  the  costly 
spikenard.  In  the  Divine  ceremonial,  Martha  gives  the  sacrifices, 
Mary  the  sweet  incense ;  and  as  "  the  house  was  filled  with  the 
odour  of  her  ointment,"  so  the  spiritual  temple  of  God  is  fragrant 
with  her  perfumes. 

Yea,  Lord ! — Yet  some  must  serve. 

Not  all  with  tranquil  heart, 
Even  at  Thy  dear  feet, 
Wrapped  in  devotion  sweet, 

May  sit  apart ! 


MARTHA  AND  MARY  331 

Yea,  Lord  ! — Yet  some  must  bear 

The  burden  of  the  day, 
Its  labour  and  its  heat, 
While  others  at  Thy  feet 

May  muse  and  pray ! 

Yea,  Lord  ! — Yet  some  must  do 

Life's  daily  task-work ;  some 
Who  fain  would  sing  must  toil 
Amid  earth's  dust  and  moil, 

While  lips  are  dumb  ! 

Yea,  Lord  ! — Yet  man  must  earn 

And  woman  bake  the  bread  ! 
And  some  must  watch  and  wake 
Early,  for  others'  sake, 

Who  pray  instead ! 

Yea,  Lord ! — Yet  even  Thou 

Hast  need  of  earthly  care, 
I  bring  the  bread  and  wine 
To  Thee,  0  Guest  Divine! 

Be  this  my  prayer!1 

4.  But  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that  the  difference  which  our 
Ix>rd  Himself  points  out  is  between  one  who  has  many  things  on 
her  mind  and  one  who  has  few.  The  words  in  which  He  rebuked 
Martha  are,  according  to  the  margin  of  the  Revised  Version, 
which  probably  represents  the  best  manuscripts :  "  Martha, 
Martha,  thou  art  anxious  and  troubled  about  many  things,  but 
few  things  are  needful,  or  one."  The  "  few  "  things  would  be  in 
contrast  with  the  "many"  things  with  which,  as  St.  Luke  tells 
us,  Martha  was  troubled.  Jesus  thinks  that  Martha  is  preparing 
a  needlessly  sumptuous  meal,  one  much  more  elaborate  than  is 
necessary,  especially  considering  the  cost  of  it  to  the  hostess  in 
trouble  and  temper.  Then  the  few  things  would  be  a  few  dishes. 
Jesus  really  does  not  care  to  see  a  great  display  of  viands  got 
together  in  honour  of  Himself.  Much  less  would  suffice;  nay, 
a  single  dish  would  be  enough.  That  was  all  He  had  been 
accustomed  to  at  the  frugal  table  in  the  carpenter's  cottage  at 
Na/areth.  He  has  no  inclination  to  be  the  object  of  lavish 
1  Julia  (\  R.  Dorr. 


332  MARTHA  AND  MARY 

hospitality.  Had  He  not  said  on  another  occasion,  "  My  meat  is 
to  do  the  will  of  him  that  sent  me,  and  to  accomplish  his  work  "  ? 
and  had  He  not  warned  His  disciples  not  to  toil  for  the  meat  that 
perisheth  ?  It  was  another  thing  when  the  labour  was  lovingly 
bestowed  by  generous  hands  for  the  sake  of  honouring  Him. 
Still  this  was  not  the  sort  of  honour  He  cared  for,  and  He  certainly 
could  not  accept  it  at  the  cost  of  a  spoilt  temper  and  a  family 
quarrel.  Wordsworth's  ideal  of  "  plain  living  and  high  thinking  " 
is  much  nearer  to  the  mind  of  Jesus. 

It  is  true  that  many  resent  the  emphasis  which  is  in  this  way 
put  upon  simplicity  of  life  and  occupation.  They  dislike  the 
new  reading,  "a  few  things,  Martha,  or  one."  They  dislike 
the  abandonment  of  an  old  interpretation,  which  has  certainly 
had  gracious  results  attaching  to  it.  "  You  have  spoiled  my  best 
sermon,"  said  one  of  the  Revisers  when  the  change  was  agreed  on. 
And  certainly  it  does  sound  much  higher  to  say  that  the  one 
thing  needful  was  to  choose  Christ  and  attach  oneself  to  Him ; 
and  it  looks  like  a  bathos  to  make  Christ  peep  into  the  kitchen 
and  say  to  Martha  not  merely  that  three  courses  are  as  good  ap 
ten,  but  that  one  course  is  as  good  as  three !  Why  should  our 
Lord  trouble  to  simplify  life  and  our  ideas  of  what  life  consists 
in  ?  The  answer  is  that  both  our  happiness  and  our  usefulness 
depend  upon  the  simplifications  which  we  introduce  into  life,  or 
which  He  introduces  for  us.  And  the  limitation  works  out  in 
this  way:  it  relieves  us  from  distraction,  and  it  finds  us  the 
leisure  which  is  necessary  for  the  cultivation  of  the  spiritual  life. 

But,  whether  the  "  many  "  and  the  "  one "  refer  to  dishes  at 
the  table  or  not,  Martha  was  wrong  in  being  anxiously  worried 
over  many  things  that  might  be  done,  instead  of  attending  faith 
fully  to  her  single  duty  of  the  hour.  This  Jesus  recognized,  and 
therefore  He  reproved  her.  Mary  was  right  in  doing  the  one 
thing  that  was  to  be  done,  when  her  Divine  Master  and  Guest 
wanted  just  that  duty  done,  and  for  this  Jesus  commended  her. 

(1)  One  danger  of  giving  attention  to  many  things  is  to 
neglect  the  distinction  between  things  that  are  important  and 
things  that  are  unimportant.  The  secret  of  the  highest  and 
purest  success  in  life  lies  in  the  ability  first  to  choose  and  then 
to  make  effort  after  those  things  which  are  of  really  greatest 
worth.  Of  course,  together  with  this  choice,  there  must  be  a 


MARTHA  AND  MARY  333 

ceasing  to  strive  after  things  of  no  intrinsic  or  permanent  value. 
This  is  what  Jesus  meant  when  He  said,  "  Seek  ye  first  the 
kingdom  of  God  and  his  righteousness." 

Tf  Much  time,  and  thought,  and  means  are  expended  on  the 
merest  framework  of  life ;  on  house  and  dress ;  on  excursions  and 
evening  gatherings ;  on  useless  accomplishments,  and  the  acquire 
ment  of  artificial  manners  and  movements ;  while  what  should 
gladly  be  our  great  subjects  of  thought,  if  we  are  honest  in  claim 
ing  to  be  immortals,  are  too  often  relegated  to  a  narrow  corner  of 
the  week.1 

(2)  Another  danger  is  restlessness,  fuss,  and  discontent.  How 
clearly,  how  vividly  we  see  Martha,  the  good-hearted,  bustling, 
over-anxious  mistress  and  very-much-manager  of  the  household  ! 
She  is  so  very  busy  about  so  very  many  things ;  and  all  the  time 
sha  is  firmly  convinced  in  her  own  mind  that  all  she  does  and  all 
she  would  provide  is  absolutely  necessary.  Not  one  of  all  this 
multitude  of  things  must  be  wanting.  Custom,  and  her  own 
reputation  in  her  own  eyes  and  among  her  neighbours,  demand 
them  all.  The  amount  of  mental  and  physical  energy  which  she 
consumed  in  providing  and  preparing  and  arranging  the  "  many 
things"  which  she  deemed  necessary,  she  probably  never  com 
puted,  nor  did  she  stay  for  a  moment  to  consider  whether  she  had 
forgotten  one  or  two  things  which  in  intrinsic  worth  might  be  of 
far  greater  value  than  the  sum  total  of  all  the  other  things  about 
which  she  was  busying  herself.  Her  mind  was  too  divided  to 
think  clearly :  part  of  it  was  running  on  this  thing  and  part  on 
that,  and  yet  another  part  on  something  else;  and  her  bodily 
movements  were  a  reflection  of  her  mental  ones.  As  we  say,  she 
was  all  the  time  in  a  bustle,  running  here  and  there,  anxious,  dis 
tracted,  worried;  and  because  she  was  so  she  was  much  inclined 
to  blame  others,  even  the  Lord  Jesus,  who  were  really  guiltless  of 
the  cause  of  her  unhappiness. 

Each  to  his  own :  yet  surely  I  have  read 

How  of  two  sisters  (each  to  Him  was  dear), 
One  listened  but  to  what  the  Saviour  said, — 

Thought  to  be  near 

Tin;  Lord  Himself  were  best : — the  other  ran 
Laid  plates,  clashed  dishes,  filled  and  set  the  can ; 
1  G.  Morrison,  The  House  of  Owl,  169. 


334  MARTHA  AND  MARY 

And  all  to  serve  Him.     Yet  the  Lord  preferred 

A  quiet  face,  and  that  turned  up  to  read 
The  reason  of  His  silence  or  His  word; 

And  said  indeed 

Somewhat,  I  fancy,  of  a  better  part 
Near  to  His  Feet,  but  nearer  to  His  Heart. 

Choose  thou,  then,  Martha,  if  thou  wilt;  perchance 

The  joy  of  serving  is  enough  for  thee. 
Let  me  choose  Mary ;  yea,  love's  arrogance 

Is  all  for  me : 

Nay,  more  than  Mary — let  me  seek  His  side 
And  sit  by  Him  in  penitential  pride.1 

5.  Is  it  not  possible  to  combine  them  ?  May  there  not  be  a 
Martha  and  a  Mary  in  one  person  ?  At  least  may  we  not  desire 
to  have  both  in  the  happy  home  ?  It  is  a  grateful  thought,  says 
Dr.  John  Watson,  that  Jesus,  who  was  homeless  and  a  wanderer, 
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  show  us  the  example  of 
saintship.  Within  this  haunt  of  Jesus  were  found  the  two  people 
who  make  the  complement  of  religion — Martha,  the  type  of 
action ;  and  Mary,  of  meditation.  They  stand  together  in  the 
great  affairs  of  the  Church :  St.  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, 
and  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. 

K  Do  not  let  us  forget  amidst  the  sweet  perfume  of  the 
unguent  that  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  sat  at  meat  I  am  right  glad 
that  Mary  brought  the  alabaster  box  to  anoint  her  Lord.  But  I 
am  glad,  too,  that  busy  Martha  had  taken  the  trouble,  as  I  am 
sure  she  would,  to  get  for  Him  just  that  which  she  thought  He 

1  It.  H.  Hensou,  Puenut,  67. 


MARTHA  AND  MARY  335 

would   relish   most.     That  He  should  sit  at  meat  was  quite  as 
important  as  the  anointing,  and  even  more  necessary.1 

I  cannot  choose;  I  should  have  liked  so  much 
To  sit  at  Jesus'  feet, — to  feel  the  touch 
Of  His  kind,  gentle  hand  upon  my  head 
While  drinking  in  the  gracious  words  He  said. 

And  yet  to  serve  Him  ! — Oh,  divine  employ, — 
To  minister  and  give  the  Master  joy, 
To  bathe  in  coolest  springs  His  weary  feet, 
And  wait  upon  Him  while  He  sat  at  meat ! 

Worship  or  service, — which  ?     Ah,  that  is  best 
To  which  He  calls  us,  be  it  toil  or  rest, — 
To  labour  for  Him  in  life's  busy  stir, 
Or  seek  His  feet,  a  silent  worshipper.2 

1  M.  G.  Pearse,  In  the  Banqueting  Huust,  11L 
'  Caroline  Alhertuii  Masou. 


MARTHA. 


MARY-SIMON  — 33 


LITERATURE. 

Adeney,  W.  F.,  Women  of  the  New  Testament  (1899),  1G8. 

Atwool,  H.  C.,  At  His  Feet  (1906),  71. 

Brooke,  S.  A.,  T)ie  Kingship  of  Love  (1903),  253. 

Campbell,  W.  M.,  Foot-Prints  of  Christ  (1889),  201. 

Candlish,  R.  S.,  Secure  Characters  (1872),  217. 

Chadwick,  W.  E.,  Christ  and  Everyday  Life  (1910),  144. 

Edersheim,  A.,  The  Life  and  Times  of  Jesus  the  Messiah,  ii.  (1887)  146, 

312,  322,  358. 

Fiirst,  A.,  True  Nobility  of  Character  (1884),  15. 
Greenhough,  J.  G.,  in  The  Call  of  God  (1901),  147. 
Jowett,  J.  H.,  Things  that  Matter  Most  (1913),  200. 
Leathcs,  A.  S.,  The  Kingdom  Within  (1910),  76. 
Lockyer,  T.  F.,  The  Inspirations  of  the  Christian  Life  (1894),  226. 
Mackay,  W.  M.,  Bible  Types  of  Modern  Women  (1912),  199. 
Meyer,  F.  B.,  in  The  Life  and  Work  of  the  Redeemer  (1901),  130. 
Morris,  A.  J.,  The  Open  Secret  (1869),  74. 
Morrison,  G.,  The  House  of  God  (1875),  159. 
Murray,  A.,  Why  do  You  not  Believe  ?  (1894),  34. 
Pearse,  M.  G.,  In  the  Banqueting  House  (189(3),  107. 
Rigg,  J.   H.,  Scenes  and   Studies  in  the  Ministry  of  Our   Lord  (1901), 

133,  156. 

Russell,  A.,  The  Light  that  Lighieth  every  Man  (1889),  225. 
Rutherford,  R.,  That  Good  Part  (1891),  1. 
Stimson,  II.  A.,  The  New  Things  of  God  (1908),  141. 
Thomas,  E.,  Jesus  the  Jlome  Friend,  43. 
Thompson,  J.  R.,  Burden  Bearing  (1905),  135. 
Trumbull,  H.  C.,  Our  Misunderstood  Bible  (1907),  217. 


MARTHA. 

Martha,    Martha,  thou   art  anxious  and   troubled  about  many  things. 
Luke  x.  41. 

WE  have  already  seen  that  the  contrast  between  Martha  and 
Mary  of  Bethany  may  be  taken  in  more  ways  than  one,  and  that 
it  is  possible  to  look  at  the  sisters  as  complementary,  what  is 
strong  in  the  one  character  balancing  what  is  weak  in  the  other, 
and  so  giving  us  a  woman  that  is  according  to  the  full  stature  of 
womanhood  in  Christ.  Let  us  now  dismiss  from  our  minds  the 
idea  of  comparison.  Let  us  take  Martha  by  herself  and  Mary  by 
herself.  Enough  is  told  us  in  the  Gospels  to  make  each  of  them 
a  profitable  study. 

Taking  Martha  first,  we  notice  that  of  the  three  occasions  on 
which  we  see  the  sisters  in  their  home  in  Bethany,  Martha  is 
prominent  on  the  first  two  occasions,  but  is  merely  mentioned  as 
present — and  characteristically  serving — on  the  third  occasion. 
We  may  therefore  leave  that  incident  to  Mary  in  which  she  has 
the  leading  place.  We  shall  thus  look  first  at  Martha's  Faults 
and  then  at  Martha's  Faith. 


MARTHA'S  FAULTS. 

1.  Martha  makes  a  strong  appeal  to  the  present  generation, 
especially  to  comfort-loving  men  and  energetic  women.  We 
respond  with  approval  to  the  words  which  George  Eliot  puts  into 
the  mouth  of  one  of  her  characters  in  Scenes  of  Clerical  Life : 
"  I've  nothing  to  say  again'  her  piety,  my  dear ;  but  I  know  very 
well  I  shouldn't  like  her  to  cook  my  victual  When  a  man  comes 
in  hungry  an'  tired,  piety  won't  feed  him,  I  reckon.  Hard  carrots 
ull  lie  heavy  on  his  stomach,  piety  or  no  piety.  1  called  in  one 

339 


340  MARTHA 

day  when  she  was  dishin'  up  Mr.  Tryan's  dinner,  an'  I  could  see 
the  potatoes  was  as  watery  as  watery.  It's  right  enough  to  be 
speritial — I'm  no  enemy  to  that ;  but  I  like  my  potatoes  mealy. 
I  don't  see  as  anybody  'ull  go  to  heaven  the  sooner  for  not 
digestin'  their  dinner — providin1  they  don't  die  sooner,  as  mayhap 
Mr.  Tryan  will,  poor  dear  man." 

^[  But  even  the  comfort-loving  husband  or  bachelor  is  compelled 
sometimes  to  wish  for  a  little  neglect.  Dr.  Eendel  Harris  asks  : 
Did  you  ever  have  your  papers  put  in  order,  or  your  books 
dusted  ?  Was  not  the  person  who  undertook  that  arduous  task 
of  the  opposite  sex  and  of  the  sisterhood  of  St.  Martha  ?  Is  not 
the  sorting  of  papers  and  the  rehabilitation  of  the  outsides  of 
books  as  much  a  matter  of  feminine  diaconate  as  the  peeling  of 
potatoes  or  the  beating  of  eggs  ?  But  I  need  not  labour  the 
point :  it  has  been  done  for  me  by  Dr.  John  Watson  in  his  story 
of  Eabbi  Saunderson.  Eabbi  Saunderson  had  a  housekeeper 
whose  name  was  Mrs.  Pitillo  (Martha  Pitillo  was  her  long  name, 
for  certain),  and  he  tells  us  of  her  gifts  in  the  following  strain : — 

"  She  had  the  episcopal  faculty  in  quite  a  conspicuous  degree, 
and  was,  I  have  often  thought,  a  woman  of  sound  judgment. 

"  We  were  not  able  at  all  times  to  see  eye  to  eye,  as  she  had  an 
unfortunate  tendency  to  meddle  with  my  books  and  papers,  and 
to  arrange  them  after  an  artificial  fashion.  This  she  called  tidying 
and,  in  its  most  extreme  form,  cleaning.  With  all  her  excellences, 
there  was  also  in  her  what  I  have  noticed  in  most  women,  a 
flavour  of  guile,  and  on  one  occasion,  when  I  was  making  a  brief 
journey  through  Holland  and  France  in  search  of  comely  editions 
of  the  Fathers,  she  had  the  books  carried  out  into  the  garden  and 
dusted.  It  was  the  space  of  two  years  before  I  regained  mastery 
of  my  library  again,  and  unto  this  day  I  cannot  lay  my  hands  on 
the  Service-book  of  King  Henry  VIIL,  which  I  had  in  the  second 
edition,  to  say  nothing  of  an  original  edition  of  Eutherford's  Lex 
Rex.  It  does  not  become  me,  however,  to  reflect  on  the  efforts  of 
that  worthy  woman,  and,  if  any  one  could  be  saved  by  good  works, 
her  place  is  assured.  I  was  with  her  before  she  died,  and  her  last 
words  to  me  were,  '  Tell  Jean  tae  dust  yir  bukes  ance  in  sax 
months,  and  for  ony  sake  keep  ae  chair  for  sittin'  on.'  It  was  not 
perhaps  the  testimony  one  would  have  desired  in  the  circum 
stances,  but  yet,  Mr.  Carmichael,  I  have  often  thought  that  there 
was  a  spirit  of — of  unselfishness,  in  fact,  that  showed  the  working 
of  grace." l 

2.  It  is  easy  for  us  all  to  sympathize  with   Martha  in  her 

1  J.  Rendel  Harris,  Aaron's  Breastplate,  67. 


MARTHA  341 

desire  to  entertain  Jesus  worthily.  It  must  have  seemed  to  her 
as  if  she  could  not  do  enough  in  showing  Him  all  hospitality. 
And,  indeed,  this  festive  season  was  a  busy  time  for  the  mistress 
of  a  wealthy  household,  especially  in  the  near  neighbourhood  of 
Jerusalem,  whence  her  brother  might,  after  the  first  two  festive 
days,  bring  with  him  honoured  guests  from  the  city. 

But  it  is  evident  that  Martha  got  some  harm  as  well  as  some 
good  out  of  Jesus'  visit ;  for  she  seems  to  have  been  sadly  flustered 
and  flurried,  and  even  somewhat  peevish  and  irritable.  She  seems 
indeed  to  have  been  out  of  temper  with  the  Master  as  well  as  with 
her  sister,  and  to  have  implied  some  little  reproach  on  Him  as 
well  as  on  Mary.  But  why  all  this  disturbance  and  irritation  ? 
Surely  it  all  came  of  this,  that  she  was  thinking  more  of  serving 
Christ  than  of  pleasing  Him.  If  she  had  paused  to  reflect,  she 
must  have  seen  that  a  sharp,  half-reproachful  word,  and  the 
obvious  loss  of  composure  and  temper,  would  cause  the  Master  a 
good  deal  more  pain  than  the  best-served  meal  in  the  world  could 
give  Him  pleasure.  She  was  busy  about  Christ,  but  she  failed  to 
enter  into  sympathy  with  Christ.  She  waited  upon  Him  out 
wardly,  but  she  did  not  understand  how  to  minister  to  His 
inmost  Spirit ;  and  so,  even  while  inviting  and  welcoming  Christ 
into  her  household,  she  forfeited  that  peace  and  calm  which  it  is 
Christ's  joy  to  bring  to  His  own. 

We  need  not  question  Martha's  love  to  Christ.  What  we 
must  question,  however,  is  whether  she  made  her  service  the  fruit 
of  her  love.  In  all  the  New  Testament  works  are  approved  and 
appreciated,  but  they  follow  faith  and  are  the  outcome  of  love. 
Think,  for  example,  of  some  of  the  homely  truths  insisted  on  by 
St.  Paul.  They  are  the  plain,  simple  duties  such  as  ordinary  men 
and  women  are  called  upon  to  perform  in  the  home  and  in  society, 
but  he  puts  them  on  a  footing  quite  different  from  ordinary 
standards  and  ideas.  If  we  read,  for  example,  his  Epistle  to  the 
Komans  we  shall  see,  first  of  all,  the  great  principles  of  the  faith 
laid  down.  The  great  facts  of  God's  relation  to  and  dealing  with 
man  are  first  of  all  enumerated ;  then,  ;.*  a  consequence  of  this, 
on  no  lower  ground,  duty — plain,  simple,  everyday  duty  inspired 
by  God.  It  is  just  the  same  when  we  read  his  Epistles  to  the 
Ephesians  and  to  the  Colossiaus  :  the  plan  and  purpose  join  duty 
to  the  highest  and  greatest  of  all  sources.  It  is  Mary  first  of  all 


342  MARTHA 

at  the  feet  of  Jesus,  choosing  the  better  part  that  shall  not  ho 
taken  away,  and  presently  doing,  in  the  inspiration  of  it,  little 
acts  of  duty,  which  become  new  things  with  a  new  power  under 
its  influence,  new  adornments  to  her  character,  new  tokens  of  her 
love.  The  love  of  Christ  which  constraineth  us  must  be  precisely 
such  a  power  as  that — always  directing  us,  always  with  us,  so 
vast  in  its  greatness  that  no  crisis  can  come  to  our  lives  in  which 
it  cannot  help  us,  so  fine  and  penetrating  in  its  power  that  the 
simplest  little  acts  rest  just  as  truly  upon  it  as  the  greatest  deeds 
to  which  our  Master  shall  ever  call  us.  The  glory  of  a  true 
womanhood  is  in  that  tenderness  and  care  which  sees  that  nothing 
is  too  small  to  be  performed  faithfully,  for  the  consecrating  power 
of  love  can  produce  from  these  little  things  a  rich  spiritual 
harvest. 

K  Unutterably  precious  to  me  is  the  woman,  the  native  of  the 
hills,  almost  my  own  age,  or  a  little  younger,  whose  spirit  is  set 
upon  the  finest  springs,  and  her  sympathies  have  an  almost 
masculine  depth,  and  a  length  of  reflection  that  wins  your  con 
fidence,  and  stays  your  sinking  heart.  The  lady  can't  do  it. 
This  class,  of  what  I  suppose  you  would  call  peasant  women 
(I  won't  have  the  word),  seems  made  for  the  purpose  of  rectifying 
everything,  and  redressing  the  balance,  inspiring  us  with  that  awe 
which  the  immediate  presence  of  absolute  womanhood  creates  in 
us.  The  plain,  practical  woman,  with  the  outspoken  throat  and 
the  eternal  eyes.  Oh,  mince  me,  madam,  mince  me  your  pretty 
mincings  !  Deliberate  your  dainty  reticences  !  Balbutient  loveli 
ness,  avaunt !  Here  is  a  woman  that  talks  like  a  bugle,  and,  in 
everything,  sees  God.1 

3.  The  dangers  of  giving  the  first  place  to  the  work  itself  are 
many.  We  may  notice  these  five :  Absorption,  Fussiness,  Worry, 
Temper,  and  Fault-finding. 

(1)  Absorption. — We  know  that  Christian  work  in  itself  is 
intensely  interesting;  indeed,  there  is  nothing  more  likely  to 
become  engrossing.  We  all  know  how  absorbed  men  may  become 
in  their  own  special  pursuits.  For  instance,  we  have  read  about 
Sir  Isaac  Newton,  who  used  to  be  so  absorbed  in  his  mathematical 
and  astronomical  researches  that  he  was  scarcely  able  to  give  a 
thought  to  the  common  duties  and  circumstances  of  life,  and  used 
frequently  to  make  the  most  ridiculous  blunders  about  common- 

1  Letters  of  T.  E.  Brown. 


MARTHA  343 

place  things,  because  he  took  so  profound  an  interest  in,  and  was 
so  fully  occupied  with,  his  own  great  discoveries.  And  so  it  is 
with  other  branches  of  knowledge.  When  men  devote  their 
attention  to  a  particular  branch  of  knowledge  or  science,  it 
becomes  a  sort  of  passion,  and  they  no  longer  find  it  necessary  to 
stimulate  themselves  to  exertion  in  that  particular ;  rather  they 
have  to  check  or  curb  themselves,  in  order  to  prevent  their  minds 
from  becoming  too  deeply  absorbed  in  their  favourite  studies. 
And  it  sometimes  happens  that  when  the  mind  is  given  over  to 
some  special  pursuit,  interest  in  their  work  becomes  so  keen  that 
men  seem  to  lose  all  power  of  checking  themselves,  and  their 
brains  go  on  working,  as  it  were,  automatically,  when  they  do  not 
intend  them  to  be  working  at  all. 

T[  I  well  remember  some  years  ago  hearing  a  touching  story  of 
a  late  Cambridge  professor,  who  was  one  of  the  greatest  Greek 
scholars  of  our  time.  For  some  few  months  before  he  died  he 
was  advised  by  his  friends  to  shut  up  his  books,  give  up  his 
studies,  and  go  as  much  as  possible  into  social  life,  in  order  that 
he  might  be  drawn  away  from  those  subjects  in  which  his  mind 
had  become  so  absorbed  that  his  constitution  was  impaired ; 
indeed,  he  was  threatened  with  softening  of  the  brain.  On  one 
occasion  he  was  in  a  drawing-room  surrounded  by  cheerful 
company,  when  a  half-sad  smile  passed  over  his  countenance  as 
he  observed  to  a  friend,  "  What  is  the  use  of  you  shutting  up  my 
books  and  not  allowing  me  to  work  ?  While  I  have  been  here  I 
have  traced  the  derivations  of  three  distinct  Greek  words,  and 
detected  their  connection  with  certain  Sanscrit  roots."  Such  was 
the  force  of  his  ruling  passion.1 

TI  When  I  was  immersed  in  some  foolish  cogitations,  my 
father,  who  was  a  good  angler,  would  come  into  my  study  on  a 
fine  breezy  day,  and  ask  me  to  go  with  him  to  the  banks  of  the 
Don  or  the  Deveron,  to  indulge  in  a  few  days'  fishing.  A  reason 
able  young  man  and  a  good  son  would  have  jumped  at  this,  but 
I  obeyed  with  indifference,  because  that  particular  excursion  did 
not  suit  my  humour,  or  rather  had  not  been  shaped  out  in  my 
plans ;  and  instead  of  being  good  company  to  my  father,  jogged 
on  behind,  humming  a  tune  to  myself !  .  .  .  Such  is  the  evil 
growth  and  the  unkindly  fruit  of  every  sort  of  self-absorption, 
however  pious,  or  poetical,  or  philosophical.  The  worst  kind  of 
selfishness,  no  doubt,  is  that  kind  of  aggressive  greed  which  is 
never  satisfied  with  its  own,  and  feeds  upon  appropriating  what 

1  W.  H.  M.  H.  Aitken,  The  Highway  of  Holiness,  159. 


344  MARTHA 

belongs  to  others.  But  it  is  selfishness  also,  and  of  a  most 
unhuman  kind,  when  a  man  systematically  denies  himself  to  his 
fellows,  and  does  not  readily  yield  himself  to  the  claims  which 
one  man,  in  a  thousand  shapes,  is  entitled  to  make  on  another.1 

(2)  Fussiness. — Martha  is  not  so  much  active  as  fussy ;  there 
is  no  sense  of  beauty  or  peace  in  her  work,  save  that  of  getting 
ready  for  the  Master's  meal;  none  of  that  element  of  self- 
forgetfulness  which  is  of  so  deep  a  necessity  for  the  religious  life 
of  mankind. 

Now  to  correct  this  noisy  fussiness  we  need  to  learn  to  imitate 
Mary  and  to  sit  at  Jesus'  feet,  and  in  silence  and  stillness  of  soul 
to  hear  His  words.  No  amount  of  service  will  make  up  for  the 
loss  of  this  inward  and  secret  fellowship  of  the  soul  with  Christ — 
this  hidden  life  of  love,  in  which  Christ  and  the  consecrated  heart 
are  bound  together  in  a  certain  holy  intimacy  and  familiarity. 
This  it  is  that  sanctifies  even  the  most  commonplace  toil,  and  the 
loss  of  this  robs  even  the  holiest  things  of  their  sanctity.  At 
Jesus'  feet — that  is  our  place  of  privilege  and  of  blessing,  and 
here  it  is  that  we  are  to  be  educated  and  fitted  for  the  practical 
duties  of  life.  Here  we  are  to  renew  our  strength  while  we  wait 
on  Him,  and  to  learn  how  to  mount  on  wings  as  eagles ;  and  here 
we  are  to  become  possessed  of  that  true  knowledge  which  is 
power.  Here  we  are  to  learn  how  real  work  is  to  be  done,  and  to 
be  armed  with  the  true  motive-power  to  do  it.  Here  we  are  to 
find  solace  amidst  both  the  trials  of  work — and  they  are  not  few 
— and  the  trials  of  life  in  general ;  and  here  we  are  to  anticipate 
something  of  the  blessedness  of  heaven  amidst  the  days  of  earth ; 
for  to  sit  at  His  feet  is  indeed  to  be  in  heavenly  places,  and  to 
gaze  upon  His  glory  is  to  do  what  we  shall  never  tire  of  doing 
yonder. 

^[  In  the  vocabularies  of  the  early  Christians  there  is  a  word 
which  is  difficult  to  translate.  It  is  the  word  <r^o>.a^w — the 
Christian  takes  time,  or  has  leisure.  It  occurs  in  the  First 
Epistle  to  the  Corinthians  (1  Cor.  vii.  5) — "  that  ye  may  have 
leisure  for  prayer."  So  in  Polycarp :  "  The  Christian  takes  time 
for  prayer "  (<r^oXa^e/).  And  the  corresponding  Latin  word  vacat 
is  everywhere  in  some  classes  of  writers :  shall  we  translate  it, 
"  The  Christian  is  free  for  Christ,  is  free  for  prayer  "  ?  Well,  it 
is  only  by  the  culture  and  habits  of  the  spiritual  life  that  this 
1  J.  S.  Blackie,  Notct  of  a  Life,  36. 


MARTHA  345 

blessed  leisure  and  beautiful  vacancy  and  long-expected  holiday 
is  obtained.  And  if  we  insist  on  going  into  all  the  pleasures, 
knowing  all  the  people,  having  everything  handsome  about  us, 
and  the  like,  we  shall  never  know  either  the  life  of  the  turtle 
dove  or  the  perfume  and  beauty  of  the  lily.  And  we  may  say 
nearly  the  same  thing  over  people  that  insist  on  going  to  meetings 
every  night  in  the  week,  and  are  too  tired  to  talk  to  the  Lord 
either  when  they  lie  down  or  when  they  rise  up.  As  St.  Bernard 
says,  they  are  a  very  dusty  people ;  and  if  they  had  known  better, 
they  might  have  been  covered  with  another  kind  of  dust,  of  which 
the  Psalmist  speaks  when  he  talks  of  "  wings  of  a  dove  covered 
with  silver,  and  her  feathers  with  yellow  gold."1 

H  Nothing  annoyed  Dr.  Temple  more — though  in  this  he  was 
not  singular  among  bishops — than  the  fussing  of  officials,  lay  or 
clerical,  at  Confirmations.  The  vicar  or  curate  who  made  himself 
over-active  or  prominent  in  his  efforts  to  marshal  the  candidates 
was  pretty  certain  to  be  beckoned  and  curtly  reprimanded  in  two 
words — "  Don't  fidget !  " 2 

One  lesson,  Nature,  let  me  learn  of  thee, 
One  lesson  which  in  every  wind  is  blown, 
One  lesson  of  two  duties  kept  at  one 
Though  the  loud  world  proclaim  their  enmity — 

Of  toil  unsever'd  from  tranquillity ; 
Of  labour,  that  in  lasting  fruit  outgrows 
Far  noisier  schemes,  accomplished  in  repose, 
Too  great  for  haste,  too  high  for  rivalry. 

Yes,  while  on  earth  a  thousand  discords  ring, 
Man's  fitful  uproar  mingling  with  his  toil, 
Still  do   thy  sleepless  ministers  move  on, 

Their  glorious  tasks  in  silence  perfecting; 
Still  working,  blaming  still  our  vain   turmoil, 
Labourers  that  shall  not  fail,  when  man  is  gone.8 

(3)  Worry. — Martha  was  worried.  If  she  had  not  been 
worried  she  would  not  have  burst  into  Christ's  presence  with  her 
complaint  of  Mary.  Now  worry  is  never  a  help  in  any  proper 
occupation  of  man  or  woman.  It  is  a  hindrance  in  any  and  every 

1  J.  R.  Harris,  Aaron's  Breustplatt,  75. 
1  Memoirs  of  Archlnshop  Tenijilc,  ii.  179. 
•  Mattl.cw  Arnold. 


346  MARTHA 

line  of  practical  service.  Particularly  is  it  true  that  in  house 
keeping,  where  woman  is  at  her  best,  and  where  her  power  is 
greatest  for  good  to  all  those  who  are  within  the  sacred  circle  of 
home  influence  as  permanent  members  or  occasional  visitors, 
worry  and  fretting  and  trouble  of  mind  are  only  disturbing 
elements,  tending  to  the  lessening  of  the  matron's  power,  and  to 
the  discomfort  of  all  who  are  in  any  way  dependent  on  her  for 
comfort  or  supply.  On  the  contrary,  quietness  of  mind,  restful- 
ness  of  spirit,  and  composure  of  manner,  are  elements  of  power  in 
a  housekeeper,  and  of  good  to  all  who  are  affected  by  her  efforts 
or  labours. 

To  be  "  cumbered,"  as  Jesus  said  Martha  was,  is,  as  the  Greek 
word  means,  to  be  "  distracted,"  to  be  drawn  this  way  and  that, 
instead  of  being  intent  on  the  one  thing  to  be  done.  Even  in 
getting  a  dinner,  or  in  doing  anything  else,  Martha,  in  the  exercise 
of  this  trait,  could  not  give  her  whole  attention  to  the  one  thing 
she  had  to  do.  In  this  Martha  lacked  the  main  essential  of 
a  good  housekeeper — the  ability  to  give  her  undivided  attention 
to  the  one  thing  she  had  to  do  for  the  time  being.  This  is  clearly 
implied  or  included  in  the  rebuke  of  Jesus.  Again,  to  be 
"  anxious,"  as  the  Revision  reads,  or  to  be  "  careful,"  as  the  old 
version  gave  it,  and  "  troubled  "  about  many  things,  is  to  be  per 
plexed  and  in  a  tumult  as  to  pressing  duty.  That,  surely,  was 
not  right  in  Martha,  and  Jesus  plainly  pointed  out  her  error.  We 
are  distinctly  told  not  to  be  anxious  or  to  be  troubled  at  any  time, 
and  the  housekeeper  or  the  business  man  who  fails  at  this  point 
fails  in  a  vital  matter. 

The  specific  faults  of  worrying  and  being  drawn  away  from 
the  one  duty  of  the  hour,  and  of  being  over-anxious,  that  Jesus 
pointed  out  in  Martha,  are  as  clearly  reprehended  and  warned 
against  in  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  and  elsewhere  as  are  theft 
and  murder ;  yet,  strange  to  say,  Martha  is  often  commended  by 
professing  Christians,  not  in  spite  of  her  faults,  but  as  if  those 
very  faults  were  admirable.  Comfort-loving  husbands  sometimes 
think  of  Mary  as  a  pious  do-nothing,  who  might  be  fitted  for 
a  high  place  in  the  future  life,  but  who  was  not  fitted  for  this  life. 
Martha,  on  the  other  hand,  is  considered  by  them  as  the  sort  of 
practical  housekeeper  who  would  have  the  dinner  ready  on  time, 
and  the  rooms  swept,  and  the  beds  made.  In  their  opinion,  she 


MARTHA  347 

is  the  kind  of  housekeeper  for  the  average  home.  Some  active 
and  efficient  wives  and  housekeepers  are  even  willing  to  speak  of 
themselves  frankly  as  "  busy  Marthas,"  when  they  would  never 
want  to  be  called  "  lively  Sapphiras."  This  they  do,  not  by  way 
of  admitting  their  uuworthiness  and  incompetence,  but  in  the 
thought  that  they  are  claiming  a  share  of  real  merit. 

TI  At  the  time  of  the  Boxer  Rising  in  China,  when  foreigners 
were  being  massacred  and  their  property  destroyed,  the  Viceroy 
wrote  in  his  diary  on  June  15,  1900 : 

"  My  wife  declares  that  I  shall  become  insane  over  these 
national  troubles.  She  is  wrong,  just  as  she  often  is.  I  should 
go  insane  if  I  had  nothing  to  bother  me.  My  normal  mental 
state  for  half  a  century  has  been  that  of  perturbation.  Perhaps 
it  is  well  that  the  Patriotic  Peace  Fists  are  giving  me  something 
to  worry  over,  thus  keeping  my  mind  in  its  normal  state." l 

U  I  have  often  occasion  to  converse  with  poor  people  about 
their  little  worries,  their  cares  and  trials;  and  from  the  ingenious 
way  in  which  they  put  them,  so  as  to  make  them  look  their  very 
worst,  it  is  sometimes  easy  to  see  that  the  poor  man  or  woman 
has  been  brooding  for  long  hours  over  the  painful  thing,  turning 
it  in  all  different  ways,  till  the  thing  has  been  got  into  that 
precise  point  of  view  in  which  it  looks  its  very  ugliest.  It  is  like 
one  of  those  gutta-percha  heads,  squeezed  into  its  most  hideous 
grin.  And  I  have  thought,  how  long  this  poor  soul  must  have 
persisted  in  looking  at  nothing  but  this  dreary  prospect  before 
rinding  out  so  accurately  the  spot  whence  it  looks  most  dreary.1 

(4)  Temper. — It  seems  clear  that  poor  Martha  had  lost  her 
temper.  Instead  of  quietly  calling  Mary  to  her  assistance  she 
complained  to  her  Guest  of  her  sister's  conduct,  actually  seeking 
His  interference  to  secure  the  aid  that  was  not  forthcoming 
voluntarily.  Will  anyone  say  that  this  act  of  Martha's  was 
courteous  or  considerate  toward  her  Guest  ?  Would  it  be  polite 
or  kindly  or  proper  toward  a  guest  in  your  house,  whom  you  were 
entertaining,  or  preparing  to  entertain,  to  burst  in  upon  him  when 
he  was  talking  with  another  member  of  the  family,  and  to  suggest 
to  him  bluntly  that  he  ought  to  know  better  than  to  keep  away 
from  her  proper  work  in  the  household  a  needed  member  of  the 
family  with  whom  he  was  conversing  ?  Can  a  woman  be  called 

1  Memoirs  of  the  Virrrmi  Li  Hung  Chang,  242. 

1  A.  K.  H.  Boyd,  Recreation*  of  a  Country  Parson,  ii.  129. 


MARTHA 

a  good  housekeeper  who  would  conduct  herself  in  this  way  as  a 
hostess  ? 

Martha  is  quite  indignant,  and  does  not  care  to  conceal  it. 
And  there  are  people  of  her  class  who,  while  they  are  very  useful 
in  a  church,  and  do  a  great  deal  of  work,  are  very  frequently 
indeed,  like  Martha,  somewhat  short-tempered.  They  have  a 
great  deal  of  energy,  and  a  great  deal  of  enthusiasm ;  but  when 
things  do  not  go  exactly  as  they  wish,  the  hasty  word  soon  slips 
out,  and  the  unpleasant  thought  is  harboured,  and  that  soon  takes 
all  the  joy  and  all  the  blessing  out  of  Christian  work.  How  often 
is  the  work  of  the  Church  marred  by  this  hasty  spirit,  and  the 
Master  grieved  in  our  very  attempts  to  honour  Him ! 

^]  I  heard  somewhere  an  old  legend  which  spake  of  Martha, 
who  was  preparing  to  entertain  the  Lord  Christ  at  the  evening 
meal.  The  room  was  ready,  and  the  table  was  spread.  All  was 
peaceful  and  comfortable  within.  Outside  a  storm  was  raging, 
the  wind  was  howling,  and  the  rain  beating.  Suddenly  Martha 
heard  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  hastened  to  open  it,  expecting  to 
see  Jesus.  But  there  stood  instead  a  weary,  ragged,  desolate 
beggar,  who  murmured,  "  I  am  hungry.  Give  me  bread.  Give  me 
bread."  "  No,"  cried  Martha,  "  I  have  no  time  for  beggars.  I  am 
going  to  entertain  the  Lord  Christ."  And  she  slammed  the  door 
in  the  beggar's  face.  Shortly  after,  there  came  another  knock, 
and  again  Martha  opened  the  door.  This  time  there  stood  a  half- 
famished,  white-faced  little  child,  who  moaned,  "  Give  me  bread. 
Give  me  bread."  "  No,"  cried  Martha,  "  I  have  no  time  for 
children.  I  am  going  to  entertain  the  Lord  Christ."  And  as  the 
angry  woman  was  about  to  slam  the  door,  the  child  vanished,  and 
there  stood  the  sublime  figure  of  Jesus,  who  said,  "  Inasmuch  as 
ye  did  it  not  unto  one  of  these,  my  brethren,  even  these  least,  ye 
did  it  not  unto  me."  l 

(5)  Fault-finding. — Jesus  was  pleased  with  the  activity  of 
Martha  so  far  as  it  was  driven  by  affection.  The  loving  care  in 
it  allured  Him  and  won  His  regard.  No  reproof  could  well  be 
kinder  than  His.  What  jarred  Him  was  the  blame  she  gave  to 
Mary,  and  the  claim  she  made  to  have  her  work  and  anxiety 
extolled ;  for,  indeed,  that  piece  of  selfish  claim  lies  hid  beneath 
her  words. 

H  It  seems  at  first  sight  that  finding  fault  with  others  is  rather 
a  noble  and  conscientious  thing  to  do ;  if  you  are  quite  sure  that 

1  C.  E.  Walters,  The  DestrUd  Christ,  133. 


MARTHA  349 

you  are  right,  and  have  a  strong  belief  in  the  virtuous  and  high 
quality  of  your  own  principles,  you  begin  to  practise  what  is 
called  dealing  faithfully  with  other  people,  pulling  them  up, 
checking  them,  drenching  them  with  good  advice,  improving  the 
tone.  Such  people  often  say  that  of  course  they  do  not  like  doing 
it,  but  that  they  must  bear  witness  to  what  they  believe  to  be 
right.  Of  course,  it  is  sometimes  necessary  in  this  world  to 
protest;  but  the  worst  of  the  censorious  habit  of  mind  is  this, 
that  it  begins  with  principles  and  then  extends  to  preferences. 
.  .  .  One  of  the  things  which  it  is  absolutely  necessary  to  do  in 
life  is  to  distinguish  between  principles  and  preferences ;  and  even 
if  one  holds  principles  very  strongly,  it  is  generally  better  to  act 
up  to  them,  and  to  trust  to  the  effect  of  example,  than  to  bump 
other  people,  as  Dickens  said,  into  paths  of  peace.1 

H  There  are  a  good  many  Marthas  in  our  Universities,  and 
they  belong  to  both  sexes.  How  common  it  is  to  hear  grudging 
praise  given,  and  the  student  complaining  of  the  better  luck 
which  has  given  undue  advantage  to  his  neighbour.  Now,  there 
may  be  undue  advantage  in  circumstances,  and  there  often  is. 
But  according  to  my  experience  it  makes  far  less  difference 
in  the  long  run  than  is  popularly  supposed.  What  does  make 
the  difference  is  tenacity  of  purpose.  A  man  succeeds  in  four 
cases  out  of  five,  because  of  what  is  in  him,  by  unflagging  ad 
hesion  to  his  plan  of  life,  and  not  by  reason  of  outside  help  or 
luck.  It  is  rarely  that  he  need  be  afraid  of  shouldering  an  extra 
burden  to  help  either  himself  or  a  neighbour.  The  strain  it 
imposes  on  him  is  compensated  by  the  strength  that  effort  and 
self-discipline  bring.  And  therefore  the  complaints  of  our  Marthas 
are  mainly  beside  the  point.  They  arise  from  the  old  failing  of 
self-centrcdness — the  failing  which  has  many  forms,  ranging  from 
a  mild  selfishness  up  to  ego-mania.  And  in  whatever  form  the 
failing  may  clothe  itself  it  produces  weakness.* 


II. 

MARTHA'S  FAITH. 

> 
In  that  most  pathetic  story  of  the  raising  of  Lazarus  from  the 

dead    which    is   related   in   the    Fourth    Gospel,    Martha   has   a 
prominent  place.     Her  sorrow  is  great,  but  in  that  she  does  not 

1  A.  C.  B«n«on,  A  long  the  Road,  i»2. 

1  Lord  Haldane,  TJu  Cvnduct  <tf  Life,  17. 


350  MARTHA 

notably  differ  from  her  sister.     What  is  peculiar  to  Martha  is  the 
test  that  is  made  of  her  faith. 

It  is  Martha  who  receives  the  great  words  from  Jesus  about 
the  resurrection.  She  takes  with  dreary  acquiescence  His  promise 
that  Lazarus  shall  rise  again,  supposing  it  to  be  a  conventional 
consolation  referring  to  the  orthodox  Jewish  doctrine  of  a  general 
resurrection  at  the  end  of  the  world.  There  is  little  comfort  for 
her  in  that.  It  is  true  enough.  She  knows  it  already.  Has  she 
not  been  taught  it  from  her  childhood  ?  But  that  mysterious 
event  is  very  remote.  If  only  Jesus  had  been  in  time  she  would 
have  had  her  brother  restored  to  her  in  this  life,  a  very  different 
thing.  Then  Jesus  proceeds  to  His  own  profound  teaching  about 
the  resurrection. 

"  If  Thou  hadst  come,  our  brother  had  not  died." 
Thus  one  who  loved,  to  One  who  came  so  late ; 
Yet  not  too  late,  had  she  but  known  the  fate 

Which  soon  should  fill  the  mourners'  hearts  with  tide 

Of  holy  joy.     Now  she  would  almost  chide 
Her  awful  Guest,  as  though  His  brief  delay 
Had  quenched  her  love  and  driven  faith  away. 

"If  Thou  hadst  come,"  oh  could  we  only  hide 
Our  heart's  impatience  and  with  meekness  stay 

To  hear  the  Voice  of  Wisdom  ere  we  speak. 
We  mourn  the  past,  the  tomb,  the  buried  dead, 
And  think  of  many  a  bitter  thing  to  say, 

While  all  the  time  True  Love  stands  by  so  meek, 
Waiting  to  lift  anew  the  drooping  head.1 

Martha's  faith  had  broken  down  before  that  awful  sepulchre. 
Up  to  the  time  when  her  brother  died  she  had  believed,  as  most 
religious  Jews  believed,  the  traditional  theory  about  the  dead  and 
their  resurrection.  She  had  believed  they  would  sleep  in  the  dust 
with  no  conscious  existence  at  all  until  some  far-off  last  day,  and 
then  "  the  just,  at  least,  would  be  raised  from  the  dust  and  begin 
life  again."  She  had  believed  it,  as  we  all  believe  the  things  that 
we  have  been  told,  because  she  never  had  cause  to  doubt  it.  But 
then  the  testing  came.  The  grim  fact  of  death  confronted  her. 
For  the  first  time  in  her  life,  perhaps,  she  saw  it  in  its  naked, 
terrible  reality.  It  had  seized  and  laid  low  and  turned  to 

1  George  Matheson. 


MARTHA  351 

corruption  the  one  being  whom  she  probably  loved  best  on 
earth.  And  when  she  saw  the  body  carried  to  the  grave  and 
hidden  out  of  sight  there,  her  heart  sank  like  a  lump  of  lead,  her 
hope  of  resurrection  faded  out  like  a  torchlight  quickly  quenched. 
And  when  the  Lord  said,  "  Thy  brother  shall  rise  again,"  she 
answered  in  words  that  were  purely  mechanical,  words  repeated 
from  memory,  with  no  faith  in  them :  "  I  know  that  he  shall  rise 
again  at  the  last  day."  There  was  no  comfort  at  all  in  that.  He 
was  dead  to  her  for  ever.  And  then  Jesus,  knowing  the  blank 
cold  faithlessness  which  had  crept  over  her,  repeated  the  gracious 
promise  and  assurance  of  immortality :  "  He  that  believeth  on 
me,  though  he  die,  yet  shall  he  live :  and  whosoever  liveth  and 
believeth  on  me  shall  never  die,"  and  finished  with  the  question, 
"  Believest  thou  this  ? "  And  this  word  and  Martha's  answer 
suggest  certain  thoughts. 

The  words  of  Jesus  are  too  great  and  wonderful  to  be  fully 
taken  in  at  once,  and  it  may  not  be  easy  to  accept  on  its  own 
account  what  is  perceived  in  them.  But  Martha  has  full  faith 
in  Christ,  and  on  that  ground  she  does  not  hesitate  to  assent  to 
what  He  says.  She  believes  that  Jesus  is  no  other  than  the 
Christ,  the  Son  of  God,  the  Great  One  expected  by  her  people. 
Such  a  clear  confession  as  this,  uttered  in  circumstances  of  the 
greatest  depression,  at  once  places  the  speaker  in  the  very  front 
rank  of  the  disciples  of  Jesus.  It  may  be  set  side  by  side  with 
St.  Peter's  historic  confession  at  Caesarea  Philippi.  The  wonder 
of  it  is  that  this  glorious  outburst  of  faith  was  possible  at  the  very 
time  when  the  inexplicable  conduct  of  Jesus  was  the  occasion  of 
the  keenest  disappointment.  That  is  what  marks  Martha's  faith 
as  sublime.  It  would  not  have  been  at  all  surprising  if  a  faith 
which  under  ordinary  circumstances  was  serene  and  settled  should 
have  been  disturbed  and  overclouded  at  such  a  moment  as  this. 
Had  it  been  so  we  could  have  pardoned  the  distressed  sister, 
netting  down  to  her  love  for  her  brother  and  the  intense  grief  at 
a  loss  which  she  thought  Jesus  might  have  prevented,  some 
temporary  lack  of  confidence  in  the  Master  who  had  tried  her  BO 
severely.  There  ia  nothing  of  the  kind.  The  earthly  scene  is 
gloomy  as  the  grave ;  but  not  a  shadow  passes  over  her  heavens. 
Faith  rises  triumphant,  and  in  spite  of  an  amazing  disappointment 
perceives  with  clear  vision  and  declares  with  unfaltering  voice  the 


352  MARTHA 

supreme  truth  that  He  who  was  the  very  occasion  of  the  dis 
appointment  was  the  Christ  of  God. 

]f  Nowhere  is  the  majesty  of  our  Lord  more  impressively 
expressed  than  in  His  dealings  with  death.  Mythology  records 
how  Hercules  successfully  wrestled  with  Death,  and  brought  back 
to  the  upper  world  the  body  of  Alcestis.  But  how  pale  is  the 
classic  fable  by  the  side  of  the  resurrections  of  the  New  Testament ! 
Here  a  mightier  Hercules  smote  the  King  of  Terrors.  "He 
brought  to  naught  him  that  hath  the  power  of  death."  Let  this 
fact  comfort  me  in  the  prospect  of  death,  in  the  article  of  death. 
Christ  is  everything  to  me  to-day,  and  He  will  not  be  less  on  my 
last  day.  No  ;  then  He  will  be  specially  precious.1 

^[  In  course  of  a  letter  to  a  lady  sympathizing  with  her  on  the 
death  of  her  father,  Maurice  wrote,  "  The  Apostle  said  that  '  if  the 
Spirit  of  Christ  dwells  in  us  he  shall  also  quicken  our  mortal 
bodies.'  Why  not  believe  that  those  words  are  spoken  simply 
and  sincerely ;  that  they  represent  facts  which  have  been  accom 
plished,  which  are  accomplishing  themselves  every  hour  ?  You 
are  weary  of  words  which  you  have  heard  from  me  and  others 
about  some  final  deliverance  of  the  human  spirit  from  its  sin  and 
woe.  You  cannot  be  too  weary  of  them  if  they  interfere  in  the 
least  degree  with  the  message, '  I  am  the  resurrection  and  the  life,' 
which  was  spoken  once  to  a  woman  sorrowing  for  her  brother, 
which  is  spoken  now  by  the  same  voice  to  every  woman  sorrowing 
for  brother,  father,  husband,  child ;  an  ever-present  warrant  for 
all  hope  of  a  future  resurrection,  of  a  future  life.  Not  a  future 
but  an  eternal  life,  the  life  of  God,  the  life  of  love,  is  what  Christ 
tells  us  of."2 

Alas  for  him  who  never  sees 
The  stars  shine  through  his  cypress- trees ! 
Who,  hopeless,  lays  his  dead  away, 
Nor  looks  to  see  the  breaking  day 
Across  the  mournful  marbles  play ! 
Who  hath  not  learned,  in  hours  of  faith, 

The  truth  to  flesh  and  sense  unknown, 
That  Life  is  ever  lord  of  Death, 

And  Love  can  never  lose  its  own  ! 8 

1  W.  L.  Watkinson,  The  Gates  of  Dawn,  23'. 
1  The  Life  of  Frederick  Denison  Maurice,  ii.  623. 
8  J.  G.  Whittier,  Siww-Bound. 


MARY, 


MARY-SIMON 


LITERATURE. 

Adeney,  W.  F.,  Women  of  the  New  Testament  (1899),  168. 

Aitken,  W.  H.  M.  H.,  The  Highway  of  Holiness,  141,  157. 

Alexander,  A.,  The  Glory  in  the  Grey  (1915),  22. 

Allon,  H.,  The  Vision  of  God  (1877),  117. 

Bain,  J.  A.,  Questions  Answered  by  Christ  (1908),  81. 

Binney,  T.,  Sermons,  ii.  (1875)  188. 

Bushnell,  H.,  Christ  and  His  Salvation,  89. 

Caird,  J.,  Essays  for  Sunday  Reading  (190G),  59. 

Campbell,  R.  J.,  The  Song  of  Ages  (1905),  109. 

Dawson,  W.  J.,  The  Reproach  of  Christ  (1903),  97. 

Denney,  J.,  The  Way  Everlasting  (1911),  282. 

Edersheim,  A.,  The  Life  and  Times  of  Jesus  the  Messiah,  ii.  (1887)  146, 

312,  322,  358. 

Forbes,  J.  T.,  God's  Measure  (1898),  21. 
Hall,  W.  A.  N.,  The  Radiant  Life  (1914),  36. 

Hart,  H.  G.,  Sermons  Preached  in  Sedbergh  School  Chapel  (1901),  146. 
Lewis,  A.,  Sermons  Preached  in  England  (1906),  89. 
Liddon,  H.  P.,  Passiontide  Sermons  (1891),  227. 
Macaulay,  A.  B.,  The  Word  of  the  Cross  (1914),  172. 
McFadyen,  J.  E.,  The  City  with  Foundations  (1909),  63. 
Matheson,  G.,  Thoughts  for  Life's  Journey  (1907),  54. 
Morrison,  G.  H.,  Flood-Tide  (1901),  92. 
Neff,  F.,  in  Drew  Sermons  for  1910  (1909),  259. 
Peabody,  F.  G.,  Mornings  in  the  College  Chapel,  ii.  (1908)  182. 
Pearse,  M.  G.,  In  the  Banqueting  House  (1896),  107. 
Purves,  P.  C.,  The  Divine  Cure  for  Heart  Trouble  (1905),  163. 
Rigg,  J.  H.,  Scenes  and  Studies  in  the  Ministry  of  Our  Lord  (1901),  133, 

156. 

Ritchie,  D.  L.,  Peace  the  Umpire,  79. 
Skrine,  J.  H.,  Saints  and  Worthies  (1901),  128. 
Tuckwell,  W.,  Nuggets  from  the  Bible  Mine  (1913),  179. 
Walters,  C.  E.,  The  Deserted  Christ  (1910),  125. 
Wateon,  J.,  The  Inspiration  of  Our  Faith  (1905),  1. 


MARY. 

Mary  hath  chosen  the  good  part,  which  shall  not  be  taken  away  from 
her.     Luke  x.  42. 

THE  company  of  good  women  was  to  Jesus,  as  to  many  other 
delicate  and  spiritual  natures,  a  relief  and  refreshment,  because 
He  found  Himself  in  an  atmosphere  of  emotion  and  sympathy. 
The  sisters  of  Bethany  were  of  different  types,  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  observance  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 
unceasing,  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  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  spiritual; 
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 
inaction,  but  for  inwardness. 

There  are  three  occasions  recorded  on  which  Jesus  was  with 
the  Bethany  family,  and  on  each  occasion  Mary's  character  is 
clearly  revealed.  On  the  first  occasion  she  was  a  Learner,  on  the 
uext  a  Mourner,  and  on  the  third  a  Worshipper. 


356  MARY 

L 

THE  LEARNER. 

1.  Mary  "sat  at  the  Lord's  feet,  and  heard  his  word." 
Several  thoughts  suggest  themselves  to  our  minds  as  we  see  her 
sitting  there.  Let  us  dwell  upon  them  for  a  few  moments. 

(1)  First,  sitting  at  His  feet  she  is  taking  the  place  of  the 
lowly ;  and  only  those  who  wish  to  be  such  can  learn  of  Jesus. 
The   proud   and    self-confident,   whether   they   be   intellectually 
proud,  or  morally  proud,  or  spiritually  proud,  will  ever  have  to  go 
empty  away ;  but  "  such  as  are  gentle,  them  shall  He  learn  His 
way." 

If  My  time  fails  me — my  thoughts  how  much  more — in  trying 
to  imagine  what  this  sweet  world  will  be  when  the  meek  inherit  it 
indeed,  and  the  lowliness  of  every  faithful  handmaiden  has  been 
regarded  of  her  Lord.  For  the  day  will  come,  the  expectation  of 
the  poor  shall  not  perish  for  ever.  Not  by  might,  nor  by  power, 
but  by  His  Spirit — the  meek  shall  He  guide  in  judgment,  and  the 
meek  shall  He  teach  His  way.1 

(2)  Next,  it  is  the  place  of  true  honour  and  dignity ;  for  it  is 
better  to  be  a  junior  scholar  in  the  school  of  Christ  than  to  be  a 
distinguished  philosopher  untaught  by  Him.     It  used  to  be  the 
boast  of  the  ancient  Christian  apologists  that  the  merest  babe  in 
Christ  was  familiar  with  the  true  solution  of  problems  that  had 
vainly  exercised  the  greatest  thinkers  of  the  heathen  world.     We 
may  still  affirm  that  there  is  an  inward  and  practical  knowledge 
of  God  and  of  His  relations  with  us  which  caa  never  be  acquired 
by  any  acquaintance  with  the  mere  theory  of  religion,  or  by  any 
educational  process  save   that   which   takes   place   when,  in   all 
humility  of  soul  and  self -distrust,  we  sit  at  Jesus'  feet. 

]f  Let  all  our  employment  be  to  know  God ;  the  more  one 
knows  Him,  the  more  one  desires  to  know  Him.  And  as 
knowledge  is  commonly  the  measure  of  love,  the  deeper  and  more 
extensive  our  knowledge  shall  be,  the  greater  our  love ;  and  if  our 
love  of  God  were  great,  we  should  love  Him  equally  in  pains  and 
pleasures.2 

1  Buskin,  Fors  Clavigtra,  Letter  xciii.  ( Works,  xxir.  476). 
*  Brother  Lawrence. 


MARY  357 

Tie  joy  enough,  iny  All  in  All, 

At  Thy  dear  feet  to  lie; 
Thou  wilt  not  let  me  lower  fall, 

And  none  can  higher  fly.1 

(3)  While  she  was  sitting  there  she  was  in  a  position,  not  only 
to  learn  by  Him,  but  to  learn  of  Him.  It  was  not  merely  that 
:she  heard  the  truth  from  Him ;  it  was  rather  that  she  found  the 
truth  in  Him.  He  was  Himself  to  her  the  Truth.  She  found  in 
Him  the  "Word  of  God."  Everything  about  Him  spoke — that 
tender  earnestness,  that  womanlike  sympathy,  that  manly  indig 
nation  against  all  that  was  false  and  mean  and  hypocritical. 
His  winsome  manner,  His  benevolent  expression,  the  eloquent 
glance  of  those  eyes,  now  sorrowful  or  plaintive,  now  kindling  into 
vehement  flame,  His  look,  His  features,  even  the  very  tones  of 
His  voice — all  seemed  to  her  a  revelation,  and  such  a  revelation 
as  rendered  her  heart  spellbound,  as  by  the  charm  of  some  great 
Knchanter,  while  she  drank  in  the  wondrous  lessons  and  felt  the 
new,  strange  joy  of  such  discoveries  in  her  heart. 

T[  The  pure  in  heart  shall  see  the  truth  means  that — given 
equal  data  and  the  same  intellectual  advantage — the  morally 
better  man  will  strike  the  truth  more  nearly,  will  be  more  happy 
in  his  guesses  and  ventures,  since  he  is  more  in  harmony  with 
reality,  more  subtly  responsive  to  its  hints.  Not  only  the  mind 
but  the  whole  soul  is  the  organ  of  truth.  .  .  .  Christ  is  not  merely 
a  truth  to  be  believed,  but  a  way  to  be  trodden,  a  life  to  be  lived. 
We  get  to  know  Christ  as  fellow-travellers,  fellow-workers,  fellow- 
soldiers  get  to  know  one  another — by  mingling  their  lives  to 
gether.2 

2.  What  is  the  result  of  sitting  at  Christ's  feet?  One  good 
result  we  see  in  the  case  of  Mary.  When  her  sister  bursts  upon 
them  with  the  complaint,  "  Lord,  dost  thou  not  care  that  my 
Bister  did  leave  me  to  serve  alone  ? "  she  makes  no  retort.  Keble 
observed  this  with  satisfaction :  "  She  goes  on  quietly  sitting  at 
our  Lord's  feet;  perhaps  she  does  not  even  hear  her  sister's 
complaint,  so  entirely  is  she  taken  up  with  listening  to  His  sacred 
and  gracious  word.  Or  if  she  thinks  at  all  of  what  Martha  is 
saying,  her  thought  is  just  this,  that  she  will  leave  it  to  Jesus  to 
reply  for  her.  She  says  to  herself  what  the  Psalmist  said  when 
1  Cowper.  *  George  Tyrrell,  Oil  and  Wine. 


358  MARY 

he  heard  men  speaking  mischievous  things  against  him :  '  I,  as  a 
deaf  man,  heard  not ;  and  I  was  as  a  dumb  man  that  openeth  not 
his  mouth.'  The  Psalmist  then  said,  and  Mary  seems  to  say  with 
him,  in  silence,  '  In  thee,  0  Lord,  do  I  hope :  thou  wilt  hear,  0 
Lord  my  God/  " 

"0  sister!  leave  you  thus  undone 

The  bidding  of  the  Lord; 
Or  call  you  this  a  welcome?     Hun 

And  deck  with  me  the  board." 
Thus  Martha  spake :  but  spake  to  one 
Who  answered  not  a  word: 
For  she  kept  ever  singing, 

"  There  is  no  joy  so  sweet, 
As  musing  upon  one  we  love 
And  sitting  at  His  feet!" 

"  0  sister !  must  my  hands  alone 

His  board  and  bath  prepare  ? 
His  eyes  are  on  you!  raise  your  own: 

He'll  find  a  welcome  there ! " 
Thus  spake  again,  in  loftier  tone, 
That  Hebrew  woman  fair. 
But  Mary  still  kept  singing, 
"There  is  no  joy  so  sweet, 
As  musing  upon  Him  we  love 
And  resting  at  His  feet."1 


II. 

THE  MOURNER. 

When  Mary  is  next  introduced  to  our  notice  she  is  again  at 
Jesus'  feet,  and  this  time  she  is  at  His  feet  as  a  mourner.  "  Then 
when  Mary  was  come  where  Jesus  was,  and  saw  him,  she  fell  down 
at  his  feet,  saying  unto  him,  Lord,  if  thou  hadst  been  here,  my 
brother  had  not  died  "  (John  xi.  32).  And  she  did  not  say  any 
more.  She  had  placed  the  matter  in  Christ's  hands,  and  there 
she  lay  at  His  feet  in  her  sorrow.  Blessed  are  those  mourners 
whom  sorrow  gently  leads  to  Jesus'  feet ! 

1  Aubrey  de  Vere. 


MARY  359 

The  scene  is  described  by  Edersheim:  It  seems  that  the 
Master  "  called  "  for  Mary.  This  message  Martha  now  hasted  to 
deliver,  although  "  secretly."  Mary  was  probably  sitting  in  the 
chamber  of  mourning,  with  its  upset  chairs  and  couches  and 
other  melancholy  tokens  of  mourning,  as  was  the  custom ;  sur 
rounded  by  many  who  had  come  to  comfort  them ;  herself,  we  can 
scarcely  doubt,  silent,  her  thoughts  far  away  in  that  world  to  and 
of  which  the  Master  was  to  her  "  the  Way,  the  Truth,  and  the 
Life."  As  she  heard  of  His  coming  and  call,  she  rose  "  quickly," 
and  the  Jews  followed  her,  under  the  impression  that  she  was 
again  going  to  visit  and  to  weep  at  the  tomb  of  her  brother.  For 
it  was  the  practice  to  visit  the  grave,  especially  during  the  first 
three  days.  When  she  came  to  Jesus,  where  He  still  stood,  out 
side  Bethany,  she  was  forgetful  of  all  around.  It  was  as  if  sight 
of  Him  melted  what  had  frozen  the  tide  of  her  feelings.  She 
could  only  fall  at  His  feet  and  repeat  the  poor  words  with  which 
she  and  her  sister  had  these  four  weary  days  tried  to  cover  the 
nakedness  of  their  sorrow. 

Not  a  word  more  is  said  of  Mary  at  this  time.  She  is  left  at 
the  feet  of  Jesus,  comforted. 

^[  There  is  a  point  beyond  which  neither  the  experience  of 
others  nor  even  the  utterances  of  the  inspired  Word  can  instrnct 
or  comfort  the  heart ;  it  must  have  rejoicing  in  itself  and  not  in 
;iny  other ;  it  must  learn  of  its  Lord  as  none  save  Himself  can 
teach.  Its  prayer  is,  "  Make  me  to  hear  thy  voice."  It  knows 
much  about  Jesus,  but  it  desires  to  know  Him ;  it  can  no  longer 
rest  in  opinions,  in  ordinances,  in  Christianity  received  as  a  system, 
in  anything  save  in  Christ,  and  in  actual  communion  with  Him.1 


IIL 

THE  WORSHIPPER. 

1.  Jesus  had  arrived  at  Bethany  six  days  before  the  Passover — 
that  is,  on  a  Friday.  The  day  after  was  the  Sabbath,  and  "  they 
made  him  a  supper."  It  was  the  special  festive  meal  of  the 
Sabbath.  The  words  of  St.  John  seem  to  indicate  that  the  meal 
was  a  public  one,  as  if  the  people  of  ttethany  had  combined  to  do 

1  Dora  Greei.well,  The  Patience  of  Hope,  103. 


360  MARY 

Him  this  honour,  and  so  share  the  privilege  of  attending  the  feast. 
In  point  of  fact,  we  know  from  St.  Matthew  and  St.  Mark  that  it 
took  place  "  in  the  house  of  Simon  the  leper  " — not,  of  course,  an 
actual  leper,  but  one  who  had  been  such.  Perhaps  his  guest- 
chamber  was  the  largest  in  Bethany;  perhaps  the  house  was 
nearest  to  the  synagogue ;  or  there  may  have  been  other  reasons 
for  it,  unknown  to  us — least  likely  is  the  suggestion  that  Simon 
was  the  husband  of  Martha,  or  else  her  father.  But  all  is  in 
character. 

Again  Martha  is  serving,  but  she  no  longer  complains  of  her 
more  impassioned  sister ;  again  Mary  is  worshipping,  in  a  charac 
teristic  way  pouring  forth  the  great  passionate  love  of  her  heart : 
both  are  rapt  and  adoring  worshippers  now.  Memories  of  the 
past  are  crowding  upon  them.  The  solemn  scenes  of  the  Passover 
are  just  at  hand,  and  their  hearts  are  full  of  indefinable  pre 
monitions.  Another  Sabbath,  and  their  Lord  will  have  endured 
His  Passion,  and  Mary  will  be  weeping  at  the  sepulchre. 

Under  some  great  impulse  of  love,  Mary  produces  her  precious 
box  of  ointment,  and  pours  it  upon  the  head  and  feet  of  her  Lord. 

Her  eyes  are  homes  of  silent  prayer, 
Nor  other  thought  her  mind  admits 
But,  he  was  dead,  and  there  he  sits, 

And  He  that  brought  him  back  is  there. 

Then  one  deep  love  doth  supersede 
All  other,  when  her  ardent  gaze 
Eoves  from  the  living  brother's  face, 

And  rests  upon  the  Life  indeed. 

All  subtle  thought,  all  curious  fears, 

Borne  down  by  gladness  so  complete, 
She  bows,  she  bathes  the  Saviour's  feet 

With  costly  spikenard  and  with  tears. 

Thrice  blest  whose  lives  are  faithful  prayers, 
Whose  loves  in  higher  love  endure ; 
What  souls  possess  themselves  so  pure, 

Or  is  there  blessedness  like  theirs?1 

This  was  no  ordinary  anointing.  It  was  distinguished  by  the 
costliness  of  the  perfume,  and  by  the  lavish  generosity  with 

1  Tennyson,  In  Memoriam. 


MARY  361 

which  it  was  poured  out.  Not  a  word  was  said ;  the  act  itself 
said  all  that  was  necessary  to  those  who  were  worthy  to  under 
stand  it.  An  ancient  Greek  poet  describes  his  poems  as  "  having 
a  voice  for  the  intelligent,"  and  this  woman's  act  has  the  character 
of  a  poem.  It  has  the  "loveliness  of  perfect  deeds,  more  strong 
than  all  poetic  thought."  In  some  way  it  must  have  come  from  a 
sense  of  debt  to  Jesus.  Mary  owed  to  the  Lord  what  she  could 
never  repay.  She  had  sat  at  His  feet  and  heard  His  word.  She 
had  received  her  brother  again  from  the  dead;  she  had  herself 
received  the  life  eternal.  She  had  a  finer  sense  than  others  that 
Jesus  could  not  be  with  them  long,  and  she  must  do  something  to 
give  expression  to  her  feelings.  The  ointment  wavS  nothing ;  she 
was  pouring  out  her  heart  at  Jesus'  feet. 

2.  If  no  more  were  said,  then  the  incident  would  remain 
lovely  and  beautiful,  and  we  should  turn  to  it  with  that  delight 
which  we  feel  in  any  narrative  that  kindles  fine  emotion.  But 
the  true  interest  of  the  incident  lies  in  Christ's  interpretation  of 
it.  There  is  nothing  that  happens  in  human  conduct  that  has 
not  some  relation  to  eternal  truths  and  principles,  and  Christ  at 
once  puts  the  whole  episode  into  relation  with  these  truths  and 
principles.  Let  us  observe,  therefore,  precisely  what  it  is  that 
He  says  and  does. 

(1)  The  first  thing  that  He  does  is  to  receive  the  gift  without 
embarrassment.  We  do  not  always  remember  that  it  requires  a 
certain  magnanimity  of  nature  to  accept  a  gift  as  well  as  to 
bestow  one.  There  is  a  stubborn  sourness  of  nature  in  many  of 
us  which  masquerades  as  independence  of  character,  and  which 
makes  us  uncomfortable  under  benefaction.  The  chief  reason 
why  men  reject  the  grace  of  God  is  because  they  cannot  endure 
the  thought  of  a  gift.  Could  they  earn  eternal  life,  could  they 
add  virtue  to  virtue  till  they  had  built  up  their  claim  to  the 
heritage  of  God,  this  they  would  do ;  for  this  they  would  struggle, 
sacrifice,  and  aspire ;  for  this  they  would  macerate  the  body  and 
crush  the  heart  in  a  ligature  of  iron  rules  and  regulations ;  and 
men  have  done  it  in  every  age.  If  a  new  crusade  were  proclaimed 
to-morrow,  and  men  could  be  brought  to  believe  that  its  rewards 
were  real,  and  that  by  enduring  its  sacrifices  they  might  win  a 
place  in  Paradise,  millions  would  flock  to  its  standard,  as  millions 


362  MARY 

are  still  ready  to  obey  the  call  of  Muhammad.  But  human 
nature  has  not  magnanimity  enough  to  accept  God's  free  gift; 
and  thus  the  great  hindrance  in  the  salvation  of  men  is  not  the 
crimes  and  sins  of  men,  but  the  diabolical  force  and  persistency 
of  human  pride.  Christ  sets  us  an  example  of  how  to  receive  as 
well  as  of  how  to  give.  He  might  have  resented  an  honour  so 
sudden  and  public ;  He  might  have  felt  in  it  a  certain  embarrass 
ing  indelicacy,  and  have  shrunk  from  its  seeming  ostentation  and 
from  the  position  in  which  it  placed  Him  in  regard  to  the 
spectators.  He  does  nothing  of  the  kind.  He  receives  the  gift 
with  perfect  simplicity,  grace,  and  courtesy,  and  raises  the  whole 
episode  into  a  light  unutterably  solemn  and  affecting  when  He 
says :  "  She  hath  done  what  she  could :  she  is  come  aforehand  to 
anoint  my  body  to  the  burying." 

Our  actions  always  perform  a  ministry  beyond  our  immediate 
intentions.  rt  It  is  impossible,"  says  Mark  Kutherford,  "  to  limit 
the  effect  which  even  an  insignificant  life  may  have."  You  speak 
a  kindly  word,  for  example,  to  someone,  and,  if  you  think  at  all 
about  what  you  have  done,  you  attach  little  importance  to  the 
episode.  But  the  person  whom  you  have  treated  in  that  manner 
has  an  inner  history  of  his  own,  and  you  have  affected  him  in 
relation  to  experiences  that  you  know  nothing  about.  The 
things  that  wear  a  different  appearance  for  him  in  consequence, 
the  temptations  you  have  helped  him  to  overcome,  the  difficulties 
you  have  encouraged  him  to  face,  are  recorded  in  a  book  which 
is  sealed  to  your  eyes.  And  not  only  is  such  a  person's  own  life 
influenced  to  a  degree  and  in  a  variety  of  ways  that  you  never 
anticipated,  but  also  the  lives  of  others  with  whom  he  comes  in 
contact  participate  indirectly  in  the  beneficent  effects  of  what 
was  to  you  a  simple,  and  soon  became  a  forgotten,  incident. 
"  Never  was  a  sincere  word  utterly  lost,"  says  Emerson,  "  never 
a  magnanimity  fell  to  the  ground,  but  there  is  some  heart  to 
greet  and  accept  it  unexpectedly."  There  is  a  promise  and  a 
potency  in  deeds  and  words,  in  looks  and  hand-grasps  and 
thoughts  of  kindness  and  love,  far  exceeding  our  poor  imagina 
tions. 

"  She  is  come  aforehand  to  anoint  my  body  to  the  burying." 
Not  many  of  us  are  beforehand  with  our  love  ;  most  of  us  are 
behindhand.  Joseph  and  Nicodenius  were  behindhand;  they 


MARY  363 

loved  JesuR,  but  they  were  men,  wise  men,  strong  men,  un 
sentimental  men,  and  so  they  saved  their  spices  for  the  dead  body 
of  Christ.  They  did  not  bring  any  love  to  Him  before  He  died, 
but  as  soon  as  He  was  dead  Joseph  became  bold,  and  went  in  and 
craved  His  body,  and  wrapped  it  in  fine  linen,  and  they  brought 
myrrh  and  aloes,  a  hundred  pounds'  weight,  for  its  anointing. 
How  much  better  the  woman's  alabaster  box  of  costly  oil,  the 
fragrance  of  which  the  living  Christ  scented  !  Does  not  our  love 
need  to  learn  to  be  beforehand  ?  The  most  of  us  have  some  love, 
but  we  take  care  that  it  blossoms  too  late,  and  its  fragrant 
exhalations  often  perfume  only  the  grave  of  the  beloved. 

T|  It  was  from  Seoul,  in  Korea,  that  Mrs.  Bishop  sent  out  the 
New  Year's  card  on  which  she  quotes  the  ancient  Persian  proverb 
of  "  Three  things  that  never  return  "  : 

The  Spent  Arrow, 

The  Spoken  Word, 

The  Lost  Opportunity.1 

T|  In  the  summer  of  1901  Tolstoy  had  a  serious  illness.  After 
he  had  somewhat  recovered,  the  doctor  recommended  his  removal 
to  a  warmer  and  more  genial  climate.  Accordingly  he  and  his 
family  left  Yasnaya  Polyana  for  the  Crimea.  From  Sevastopol 
the  party  drove  to  Yalta  by  road.  At  the  first  station,  where 
they  stop}>ed  to  change  horses,  Tolstoy  walked  on  ahead,  and  met 
a  young  fellow  (apparently  a  shop-assistant  or  small  tradesman), 
of  whom  he  inquired  the  name  of  some  place  on  the  shore  below. 
The  stranger  answered  the  poorly  and  strangely  clad  old  man 
contemptuously ;  and,  when  the  Countess  drove  up,  was  amazed 
to  see  him  get  into  the  carriage  and  drive  off.  Turning  to 
P.  A.  Boulanger  (Tolstoy's  friend),  who  was  waiting  for  a  second 
carriage,  the  fellow  asked  who  that  old  man  was. 

"  Count  Tolstoy,"  was  the  answer. 

"What?  Count  Tolstoy,  the  writer?  .  .  .  Oh,  my  God,  my 
God!"  exclaimed  the  other  in  despair,  flinging  his  cap  into  the 
dirty  road.  "  I  would  have  given  all  I  possess  to  see  him  ;  and 
how  I  spoke  to  him  ! " f 

Early  they  came,  yet  they  were  come  too  late ; 
The  tomb  was  empty;  in  the  misty  dawn 
Angels  sat  watching,  but  the  Lord  was  gone. 

1  A.  M.  Stoddtrt,  Thf  Lift  of  IviMla.  Bird  (Mrs.  Jiishop),  330. 
1  Aylmei  Maude,  Ttu  Life  of  Tol&nj :   Later  »urs,  591. 


364  MARY 

Beyond  earth's  clouded  day-break  far  was  He, 
Beyond  the  need  of  their  sad  ministry ; 
Eegretful  stood  the  three,  with  doubtful  breast, 
Their  gifts  unneeded  and  in  vain  their  quest. 

The  spices — were  they  wasted  ?     Legend  saith 
That,  flung  abroad  on  April's  gentle  breath, 
They  course  the  earth,  and  evermore  again 
In  Spring's  sweet  odours  they  come  back  to  men. 
The  tender  thought !     Be  sure  He  held  it  dear ; 
He  came  to  them  with  words  of  highest  cheer, 
And  mighty  joy  expelled  their  hearts'  brief  fear. 

Yet  happier  that  morning — happier  yet — 
I  count  that  other  woman  in  her  home, 
Whose  feet  impatient  all  too  soon  had  come 
Who  ventured  chill  disfavour  at  the  feast, 
'Mid  critics'  murmur  sought  that  lowliest  Guest, 
Broke  her  rare  vase,  its  fragrant  wealth  outpoured. 
And  gave  her  gift  aforehand  to  her  Lord.1 

(2)  Christ  receives  the  gift,  rightly  interpreting  its  spirit,  but 
He  does  more:  He  proceeds  to  defend  it  from  the  charge  of 
extravagance.  "  Why  this  waste  ? "  said  the  jealous  bystanders 
— for  you  will  observe  that  this  was  not  the  saying  of  Judas 
only,  it  was  the  comment  of  "  some  that  had  indignation  among 
themselves." 

Probably  there  is  no  subject  on  which  we  have  such  unjust 
and  muddled  notions  as  what  constitutes  extravagance.  We  do 
not  call  a  man  extravagant  who  spends  a  thousand  pounds  on 
horses  and  wine,  provided  his  income  justifies  him;  but  if  the 
same  man  were  to  spend  one  hundred  pounds  on  books  he  would 
be  called  extravagant,  because  we  grudge  any  expenditure  on  the 
things  of  the  mind,  but  none  whatever  on  the  pleasures  of  the 
body.  We  do  not  call  a  man  extravagant  who  spends  a  large 
sum  on  the  building  of  a  mansion  for  himself,  but  if  the  same  man 
spent  a  tithe  of  the  sum  on  building  or  beautifying  a  house  for 
God,  his  children  would  feel  that  he  had  robbed  them.  Or  to 
come  to  lesser  matters,  there  are  those  who  would  not  accuse 
themselves  of  extravagance  if  they  spent  a  considerable  sum  on 
seats  at  the  theatre,  the  opera,  or  the  concert  hall,  but  would 

1  Sophie  W.  Weitzel,  From  Time  to  Time. 


MARY  365 

never  dream  of  giving  any  such  sum  for  a  peat  in  a  rlmrch,  and 
would  think  long  before  they  devoted  such  a  sum  to  any  purpose 
of  charity. 

Calmly,  and  with  majesty,  Christ  rules  that  love's  prodigality 
is  blameless ;  that  there  are  times  when  the  practically  useful 
must  be  set  lower  than  the  morally  beautiful.  And  this  act  He 
praised  for  its  beauty.  It  was  beautiful  even  as  a  work  of  art  is 
beautiful,  namely,  as  the  clear  and  apt  and  forcible  outward  ex 
pression  of  a  noble  inward  feeling. 

Nor  in  this  does  Christ  judge  alone.  The  judgment  of  human 
nature  has  pronounced  in  the  same  sense  before  and  since.  When 
David  pours  out  unto  the  Lord  the  water,  of  which  he  would  not 
drink,  from  the  well  of  Bethlehem — for  "  is  not  this  the  blood 
of  the  men  that  went  in  jeopardy  of  their  lives  ? " — might  we  not 
exclaim,  "  What  waste  of  the  hard-won  luxury ! "  But  we  love 
him  the  more  for  his  magnificent  chivalry.  What  waste  of 
treasure,  time,  and  labour  it  was  that  chased  the  sculptured 
masses  of  masonry  on  the  cathedral  fronts !  Yet,  who  grudges  ? 
For  in  a  great  critic's  words,  those  ancient  builders  "  have  taken 
with  them  to  the  grave  their  powers,  their  honours,  and  their 
errors ;  but  they  have  left  us  their  adoration."  When  some  poor 
worthless  creature  is  plucked  from  the  clutch  of  fire  or  water  by 
some  strong  and  gallant  fellow  who  gets  his  own  death-hurt  in 
doing  it,  we  murmur,  perhaps,  for  a  moment  (who  can  help  it  ?) 
to  think  that  gold  should  be  thrown  away  to  redeem  dross,  the 
hero  to  save  the  weakling ;  yet  we  feel  the  loss  had  been  sadder 
if  the  brave  man  had  paused  to  weigh  values  and  saved  himself 
for  better  uses. 

And  precisely  here,  not  elsewhere,  is  the  great  contribution 
Christ  has  made  to  morality,  or  the  department  of  duty.  He 
inaugurates,  in  fact,  a  new  Christian  morality,  quite  superior  to 
the  natural  ethics  of  the  world.  Not  a  new  morality  as  respects 
the  body  of  rules,  or  code  of  perceptive  obligations, — though  even 
here  He  instituted  laws  of  conduct  so  important  as  to  create  a 
new  era  of  advancement, — but  new  in  the  sense  that  He  raised  His 
followers  to  a  new  point  of  insight,  where  the  solutions  of  duty 
are  easy,  and  the  otherwise  perplexing  questions  of  casuistry  are 
for  ever  suspended ;  even  as  this  woman  friend  of  Jesus  saw 
more  through  her  love,  and  struck  into  a  finer  coincidence  with 


366  MARY 

His  sublime  future,  than  all  the  male  disciples  around  her  had 
been  able  to  do  by  the  computations  of  reflective  reason.  Nay,  if 
Judas,  who,  according  to  John,  was  the  more  forward  critic,  had 
been  writing  just  then  a  treatise  on  the  economics  of  duty,  her 
little  treatise  of  unction  was  better. 

As  well  might  they  have  looked  on  the  summer  fields  and  asked 
to  what  purpose  this  waste  in  the  growth  of  lily  and  rose  ?  Might 
not  all  this  fertility  of  nature,  instead  of  running  to  waste  on  useless 
flowers,  have  gone  to  grow  provender  for  cattle  or  food  for  man  ? 

TJ  Alexander  the  Great,  when  a  child,  was  checked  by  his 
governor  Leonidas  for  being  overprofuse  in  spending  perfumes : 
because  on  a  day,  being  to  sacrifice  to  the  gods,  he  took  both  his 
hands  full  of  frankincense,  and  cast  it  into  the  fire:  but  after 
wards,  being  a  man,  he  conquered  the  country  of  Judrea  (the 
fountain  whence  such  spices  did  flow),  he  sent  Leonidas  a  present 
of  five  hundred  talents'  weight  of  frankincense,  to  show  him  how 
his  former  prodigality  made  him  thrive  the  better  in  success,  and 
to  advise  him  to  be  no  more  niggardly  in  divine  service.  Thus 
they  that  sow  plentifully  shall  reap  plentifully.  I  see  there  is  no 
such  way  to  have  a  large  heart  as  to  have  a  large  heart.  The 
free  giving  of  the  branches  of  our  present  estate  to  God,  is  the 
readiest  means  to  have  the  root  increased  for  the  future.1 

^J  Lying  in  the  field  this  July  day  I  take  up  a  tall  grass  stem 
in  flower.  Its  delicacy,  grace,  the  poise  of  its  head,  are  lovely 
beyond  speech.  I>ut  the  whole  field,  ten  acres  of  it,  is  covered 
with  tall  stems  equally  delicate,  graceful,  and  with  the  same  per 
fect  poise.  For  whom  does  this  beauty  exist  ?2 

(3)  The  third  point  in  the  defence  is  contained  in  the  words, 
"  She  hath  done  what  she  could."  Unfortunately  this  expression 
is  capable  of  being  misunderstood,  and  has  indeed  been  widely 
understood  in  a  sense  exactly  the  opposite  of  that  which  it  was 
intended  to  bear.  In  our  modern  idiom,  "  She  hath  done  what  she 
could  "  is  almost  as  much  apologetic  as  eulogistic.  The  undertone 
is,  "  It  was  not  much,  of  course,  but  what  more  could  one 
expect  ?  There  is  no  room  for  reproach  or  censure."  This  is 
precisely  the  reverse  of  what  the  words  mean.  The  disciples  did 
not  reproach  the  woman  for  doing  so  little,  but  for  doing  so  much  ; 
and  Jesus  justified  her,  not  by  reducing  her  act  to  smaller  proper- 

1  Thomas  Fuller. 

8  Maik  Rutherford,  Last  PWJM  from  a  Journal  (1915),  293. 


MARY  367 

tions,  but  by  revraling  it  in  all  its  depth  and  height,  and  showing 
that  it  was  greater  than  she  herself  knew. 

She  did  what  she  could  because  she  did  it  in  faith.  The 
guests  at  the  feast  of  Bethany,  most  of  them,  notwithstanding  the 
recent  miracle  which  had  summoned  Lazarus  from  his  grave  to  a 
seat  at  that  very  table,  were  living  as  most  men  live :  they  were 
living  in  the  present,  without  a  thought  of  the  future ;  they  were 
living  in  the  visible,  without  a  thought  of  the  unseen.  Mary 
looked  higher  than  the  world  of  sense,  deeper  into  the  future 
than  the  passing  hour.  She  knew  what  Jesus  had  said  about  His 
personal  claims  to  be  before  Abraham,  to  be  One  with  the  Father ; 
and  she  took  Him  at  His  word.  She  knew  that  He  had  foretold 
His  death  and  burial  and  resurrection  ;  and  she  took  Him  at 
His  word.  As  He  sat  at  that  board,  eating  and  talking  like  every 
one  else,  it  was  not  every  soul  that  could  set  aside  what  met  the 
eye  of  sense  and  discern  the  reality  ;  not  everyone  who  could  see 
that  there  was  that  beneath  the  form  of  the  Prophet  of  Nazareth 
which  is  worthy  of  the  most  passionate  homage  of  the  soul ;  not 
everyone  who  would  reflect  that,  ere  many  days  had  passed,  that 
very  Form  would  be  exposed  upon  a  cross  to  the  gaze  of  a  brutal 
multitude,  while  life  ebbed  slowly  away  amid  overwhelming  agony 
and  shame.  Mary  did  see  this.  "  In  that  she  hath  poured  this 
ointment  on  my  body,  she  did  it  for  my  burial." 

TJ  We  are  more  apt  to  see  the  comfort  in  the  words,  "  She 
hath  done  what  she  could,"  than  the  solemnity  of  them.  They 
are  a  tender  recognition,  but  a  tremendous  challenge.  "  What 
she  could  "  means  all  she  could.  The  Master  compares  us,  not 
with  others,  but  with  ourselves.  There  is  the  mercy.  But  with 
our  best  selves,  with  our  possible  selves,  there  is  the  rub. — What 
I  did,  subtracted  from  what  I  might  have  done,  gives  the  bad 
remainder,  the  immoral  debit,  the  moral  discredit.  "  There's  a 
kindness  in  His  justice  that  is  more  than  liberty."  Thank  God 
for  it,  but  let  us  not  misunderstand  the  truth  and  think  we  are  at 
liberty  to  do  what  we  happen  to  feel  like.  Did  the  Lord  say  of 
Sapphira,  "  She  hath  done  what  she  could  "  ? l 

It  waa  her  best,  and  yet  how  poor 

That  cruise  of  spikenard  sweet  and  rare  I 

She  entered  in  at  Simon's  door 

With  trembling,  though  familiar  there. 

1  M.  I).  B»l>co<'k,  Thought! for  i:<,-ry-Day  Living,  48. 


368  MARY 

What  could  she  give  to  Him  whose  call 
Had  brought  her  brother  back  from  death  ? 

It  was  her  best,  yet  poor  and  small 
For  Him,  the  Lord  of  pulse  and  breath  1 

He  took  the  fragrant  gift:  a  wreath 
Of  praise  He  twined  about  her  nama 

It  lit  for  Him  the  cave  of  Death : 
"  Against  my  burial  she  came  !  " l 

(4)  The  great  words  in  which  Jesus  justified  the  breaking  of  the 
alabaster  box  on  His  own  behalf  embody  a  principle  which  should 
run  through  all  wise  life.  The  words  were  these :  "  The  poor 
ye  have  always  with  you ;  but  me  ye  have  not  always."  The 
principle  is  this — that  opportunities  differ  in  value  and  importance, 
and  that  wisdom  consists  in  reading  their  value  aright  and  in 
selecting  the  one  which  will  not  be  always  with  us.  Certain  things 
may  be  done  at  any  time  ;  certain  other  things  must  be  done  now 
or  never.  Certain  privileges  may  be  enjoyed  at  any  time  ;  certain 
others  now  or  never.  Every  life  is  confronted  at  many  points 
with  this  strange  contrast — between  the  ordinary  opportunities 
which  come  with  every  day,  and  some  great  opportunity  which, 
if  not  grasped  at  once,  may  vanish  for  ever.  The  poor  and  Jesus ! 
There  is  the  living  contrast  which  is  symbolical  of  so  much  in  our 
life.  The  presence  of  the  poor  we  can  depend  on ;  the  pathetic 
commonplace  is  ever  about  us ;  but  unique  opportunities  are  not 
always  with  us.  They  are  rare.  Sometimes  they  come  to  us  but 
once ;  and  though  we  should  wait  for  a  century,  they  would  never 
come  again. 

For  no  man  knows  what  the  gods  may  send, 
Or  the  day  when  the  word  will  come 

That  shall  change  the  ways  of  his  life,  or  lend 
A  voice  to  a  soul  born  dumb. 
And  never  man  shall  plumb 

The  depths  of  a  sleeping  past.2 

^f  Marcus  Aurelius  says :  "  To  the  better  of  two  things,  if  thou 
findest  that,  turn  with  thy  whole  heart:  eat  and  drink  ever  of 
the  best  before  thee."  8 

1  George  T.  Coster.  a  D.  H.  S.  Nicholson,  Poems,  2. 

1  Walter  Pater,  Marius  the  Epicurean,  ii.  37. 


NICODEMUS 


MARY-SIMON — 14 


LITERATURE. 

Ainger,  A.,  Sermons  in  the  Temple  Church  (1870),  180. 

Baldwin,  G.  C.,  Representative  Men  of  the  New  Testament  (1859),  161. 

Banks,  L.  A.,  Christ  and  His  Friends  (1895),  116. 

„         „        The  Great  Saints  of  the  Bible  (1902),  276. 
Beecher,  H.  W.,  Henry  Ward  Beecher  in  England,  1886,  pt.  iii.  49. 
Bell,  C.  D.,  Night  Scenes  of  the  Bible,  ii.  (1886)  95. 
Bernard,  J.  H.,  From  Faith  to  Faith  (1895),  33. 

Carpenter,  W.  B.,  The  Son  of  Man  among  the  Sons  of  Men  (1893),  185. 
Chapin,  E.  H.,  in  The  World's  Great  Sermons,  vi.  (1909)  29. 
Clow,  W.  M.,  The  Day  of  the  Cross  (1909),  353. 
Davidson,  A.  B.,  The  Called  of  God  (1902),  247. 
Drummond,  H.,  The  Ideal  Life  (1897),  185. 
Durell,  J.  C.  V.,  The  Self -Revelation  of  Our  Lord  (1910),  84. 
English,  E.,  Sermons  and  Homilies  (1913),  155. 
Gray,  W.  A.,  Laws  and  Landmarks  of  the  Spiritual  Life  (1895),  151. 
Greenhough,  J.  G.,  in  Men  of  the  New  Testament  :  Matthew  to  Timoth) 

(1905),  129. 

Hough,  L.  H.,  The  Men  of  the  Gospels  (1913),  55. 
Jones,  J.  D.,  The  Hope  of  the  Gospel  (1911),  126. 
Lucas,  B.,  Conversations  with  Christ  (1905),  12. 

Matheson,  G.,  The  Representative  Men  of  the  New  Testament  (1905),  115. 
Reid,  J.,  Jesus  and  Nicodemus  (1906). 
Kendall,  G.  H.,  Charterhouse  Sermons  (1911),  85. 
Sanday,  W.,  The  Authorship  and  Historical  Character  of  tlie  Fourth  Gospel 

(1872),  69. 

Skrine,  J.  H.,  Saints  and  Worthies  (1901),  121. 
Whyte,  A.,  Bible  Characters  :  Joseph  and  Mary  to  James  (1900),  36. 
Dictionary  of  the  Bibk,  iii.  (1900)  543  (J.  H.  Bernard). 
Dictionary  of  Christ  and  the  Gospels,  ii.  (1908)  244  (K.  TI.  Titehmarsh). 
Encyclopedia  BiUica,  iii.  (1902),  col.  340G  (E.  A.  Abbott). 


NICODEMUS. 

There  was  a  man  of  the  Pharisees,  named  Nicodemus,  a   ruler   of  the 
Jews.— John  iii.  I. 

NKVER  is  the  mysterious  difference  between  Jesus  and  other  men 
more  apparent  than  in  the  supremely  instructive  and  impressive 
account  of  the  quiet  interview  which  He  gave  in  the  silence  of 
night  to  Nicodemus,  a  ruler  of  the  Jews.  The  one  theme  which 
occupies  the  strained  attention  of  the  two  men,  the  one  point  on 
which  they  speak  with  intense  earnestness  and  latent  passion,  is 
the  condition  of  entrance  into  the  Kingdom  of  God,  the  state  of 
mind  and  heart  which  fits  a  man  for  the  Divine  regime  which 
they  both  expect  to  begin  without  delay.  And  we  are  smitten 
with  awe  as  we  observe  that  one  of  the  two  Teachers  who  together 
discuss  this  absolutely  vital  problem  offers  a  solution  which  is 
intended  for  other  men,  but  has  no  reference  to  Himself.  He  who 
lays  down  the  law,  "  Except  a  man  be  born  anew,  he  cannot  see 
the  kingdom  of  God,"  speaks  as  one  who  has  never  been,  because 
He  has  never  needed  to  be,  born  again.  Here  is  an  amazing 
assumption,  which  will  be  found  to  underlie  all  His  teaching  from 
the  beginning  to  the  end.  He  can  say,  as  no  other  man  has  ever 
been  able  to  say,  "  Which  of  you  couvinceth  me  of  sin  ?  "  "  The 
prince  of  this  world  corneth,  and  hath  nothing  in  me."  "  I  do 
always  the  things  which  are  well  pleasing  in  my  Father's  sight." 
He  who  knows  what  is  in  man  makes  no  mistake  about  Himself, 
and  His  consciousness  is  the  consciousness  of  sinless  perfection — 
the  consciousness  of  a  man  who  never  needs  to  re  pout  and  ask 
forgiveness,  never  requires  to  be  born  again.  Let  this  supreme 
miracle  be  once  accepted  and  appreciated,  and  every  other  miracle 
falls  into  its  proper  place.  That  the  conqueror  of  sin  should  also 
be  the  conqueror  of  disease  and  sorrow  and  death  seems  nothing 
strange.  The  moment  we  grant  tho  sinlessness  of  Jesus,  we  enter 
a  region  in  which  the  supernatural  becomes  the  natural. 

37 1 


372  NICODEMUS 

U  Kenan  claimed  for  himself  the  absolute  coldness  which 
proposed  as  its  only  object  to  take  note  of  the  most  delicate  and 
the  most  severe  shades  of  truth.  Yet  when  he  wrote  his  Life  of 
Christ  for  the  people,  he  expunged  the  frank  passages  in  his 
famous  book,  passages  such  as  that  in  which  he  argued  that 
Christ  countenanced  a  fictitious  resurrection  of  Lazarus  arranged 
by  the  sisters.  He  omitted  also  what  he  had  said  about  Christ's 
devouring  fanaticism.  These  were  fit  for  his  scientific  readers ; 
but  he  was  willing  to  make  concession  to  the  preference  of  the 
vulgar  for  a  popular  hero.  So,  without  in  the  least  changing  his 
real  opinion,  he  indulged  the  general  appetite  for  a  stainless  figure, 
and  erased  all  the  traces  of  fanaticism  and  finesse.  To  do  that  was 
to  forget  that,  after  all,  truth  is  sacredness,  and  sacredness  is 
truth,  and  that  deception  in  any  and  every  form  can  in  the  end 
work  nothing  but  evil.  Yet  we  will  not  bear  too  hardly  on  Kenan. 
What  we  are  convinced  lay  at  the  back  of  his  reticence  was  the 
feeling  that  if  Christ  were  once  proved  to  be  frail  and  stained  like 
the  rest  of  us,  the  glory  of  the  world  would  be  quenched.1 


I. 

COMING  TO  CHRIST. 

It  is  related  that  Nicodemus  came  to  Jesus  by  night,  and  in 
two  later  chapters  of  the  same  Gospel  he  is  referred  to  as  "  he 
that  came  to  Jesus  by  night,"  "  he  who  at  the  first  came  to  him 
by  night "  (John  vii.  50,  xix.  39 ;  in  the  former  text  the  R.V.  has 
"  before  "  instead  of  "  by  night ").  This  detail  seems  to  have 
become  a  fixed  element  in  the  tradition,  and  there  would  no  doubt 
be  much  speculation  as  to  the  motive  and  meaning  of  the  nocturnal 
visit.  Why  did  the  ruler  of  the  Jews  seek  communion  with  Jesus 
by  night  rather  than  by  day  ?  He  has  often  been  stigmatized  as 
a  coward,  who  did  under  the  cover  of  darkness  what  he  would 
have  been  ashamed  to  be  seen  doing  by  daylight.  But  there  is 
not  a  word  to  indicate  that  his  visit  was  resented  either  as  an 
untimely  intrusion  or  as  an  act  of  cowardice.  If  he  came  to  Jesus 
by  night,  at  any  rate  he  did  come ;  and  since  he  evidently  came 
with  a  sincere  desire  to  know  Jesus  better,  he  was  welcome. 
Jesus  had  frequent  occasion  to  condemn  Pharisaism  as  a  system, 
but  it  would  be  a  great  mistake  to  imagine  that  He  regarded  every 

1  W.  K.  Nicoll,  The  Ohwch's  On*  t'twndatum,  112. 


NICODEMUS  373 

Pharisee  as  a  hypocrite.  There  were  high-minded  men  like  Hillel 
and  Gamaliel  among  the  Jewish  Rabbis  ;  and  to  an  earnest  Pharisee 
no  less  than  to  a  contrite  publican  Jesus  was  ready  to  say,  "  No 
man  can  come  to  me,  except  the  Father  which  sent  me  draw  him  " ; 
"and  him  that  cometh  to  me  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out."  What 
Christian  who  recalls  his  first  timid  approaches  to  Christ  can 
truthfully  say  that  he  was  actuated  only  by  the  highest  and  purest 
motives  ?  And  who  would  care  to  have  his  first  tentative 
inquiries  about  the  way  of  salvation  immediately  discussed  by 
critical  and  derisive  comrades  ?  Christ  is  too  generous  to  confound 
any  anxious  inquirer  with  awkward  questions  as  to  his  motives. 
Well  pleased  to  receive  him  on  any  terms,  He  goes  straight  to  the 
point,  leading  him  without  any  hesitation  into  the  deep  things  of 
personal  and  experimental  religion. 

TI  Nicodemus  was  a  scholar.  He  was  the  teacher  of  Israel. 
And  so,  when  I  see  him  seeking  Jesus,  I  seem  to  behold  scholar 
ship  at  the  feet  of  Christ.  It  would  be  a  real  difficulty  in  the 
way  of  accepting  Christianity,  says  Dr.  Gwatkin,  if  it  did  not 
attract  the  best  men  of  every  time.  But  it  does  !  It  had  a  Paul 
and  an  Origen  and  an  Athanasius  and  an  Augustine  in  the  early 
days ;  it  has  had  a  Newton  and  a  Kepler  and  a  Faraday  and  a 
Clerk-Maxwell  and  a  Tait  and  a  Kelvin  in  these  days  of  ours. 
The  mightiest  minds  find  in  Christ  their  Master.  And  at  the 
head  of  the  procession  of  the  gifted  and  the  learned  who  own 
Christ  as  Lord  is  this  great  teacher  of  Israel  who  came  to  Jesus 
by  night.1 

TI  Now  and  again  we  have  proofs  of  the  fact,  from  quarters 
and  in  forms  the  least  likely,  that  there  are  hidden  Christians — 
secret  allies  of  Christianity.  One  instance  of  secret  discipleship 
may  be  cited,  remarkable  chiefly  for  the  unexpected  reason 
assigned — 1  refer  to  the  case  of  an  eminent  man  of  science. 
Although  an  avowed  believer  in  a  personal  God,  he  was  under 
stood  to  have  rejected  the  doctrine  of  a  supernatural  Christ;  yet 
after  his  death  there  was  found  a  paper  in  his  desk  in  which  he 
expresses  his  attitude  to  Christ  in  these  words :  "  I  believe  in  my 
heart  that  God  raised  Him  from  the  dead,  and  I  have  not  con 
fessed  Him  with  the  mouth,  because  in  my  time  such  confession 
is  the  only  way  to  get  up  in  the  world."  A  disciple  secretly 
through  fear  of  misunderstanding  !  2 

1  J.  I).  .lonfc.s,   The.  Hope  of  the,  (,'oxpr.l,  137. 

1  W.  A.  Gray,  Law*  and  Landmarks  of  the  fyiritual  Life,  158. 


374  NICODEMUS 


II. 

SEEKING  LIGHT. 

Nicodemus  soon  reveals  the  fact  that  he  has  come  to  Jesus, 
not  as  a  solitary  individual,  but  rather  as  the  representative  of 
a  party,  the  adherent  of  a  school.  He  speaks  almost  as  if  he  had 
been  deputed  to  state  the  case  of  many  others,  who  had  together 
been  taking  the  mysterious  person  and  mighty  deeds  of  Jesus  into 
careful  consideration,  and  whose  preliminary  verdict  he  repeats  in 
the  well-weighed  words,  "  We  know  that  thou  art  a  teacher  come 
from  God :  for  no  man  can  do  these  signs  that  thou  doest,  except 
God  be  with  him."  They  had  felt  that  they  could  not  rest  there. 
Having  gone  so  far,  they  must  go  farther.  Was  it  not  advisable 
that  one  of  their  number  should  approach  Jesus,  and  sound  Him 
as  to  His  doctrine  ?  But  that  there  might  be  no  talk  about  it,  let 
him  go  by  night. 

Nicodemus  therefore  comes  to  Jesus  half  in  a  receptive  and 
half  in  a  critical  frame  of  mind.  He  craves  more  light.  His 
judgment  is  suspended.  He  feels  that  he  cannot  make  up  his 
mind  until  he  has  a  fuller  knowledge  of  the  facts.  And  so  far  he 
was  quite  reasonable.  He  was  doing  only  what  millions  have 
done  since.  Christianity  makes  a  mighty  appeal  to  intellect  as 
well  as  to  feeling.  It  is  to  be  accepted  by  men  who  are  fully 
persuaded  in  their  own  minds.  Christ  is  the  Light  of  the  world, 
and  desires  us  to  become  Christians  with  open  eyes,  loving  the 
highest  only  when  we  see  that  it  is  the  highest.  So  far  from 
seeking  to  hide  anything,  Christianity  welcomes  the  fullest  and 
most  searching  inquiry  into  its  nature  and  credentials.  It  is  not 
an  esoteric  religion,  whose  jealously  guarded  secrets  are  revealed 
only  to  a  few  initiates.  Christ  as  the  living  Truth  imparts 
Himself  to  all  who  have  ears  to  hear  and  hearts  to  understand. 
While  it  is  a  Catholic  dictum  that  mystery  is  the  mother  of 
devotion,  it  is  a  Protestant  principle  that  knowledge  is  the  mother 
of  devotion.  And  both  are  true.  The  more  we  know  of  Christ  and 
His  religion,  the  more  does  our  sense  of  wonder  grow ;  the  more 
we  know  of  His  Divine  love,  the  more  do  we  feel  that  it  passeth 
knowledga 


NICODEMUS  375 

^f  Religion  is  not  a  mere  system  of  thought  upon  which  the 
mind  can  exercise  its  logic,  while  the  soul  is  untouched  and  irre 
sponsive.  It  is  a  life  produced  by  the  touch  of  the  Divine  Spirit, 
and  apart  from  that  contact,  even  the  perception  of  spiritual 
verities  is  impossible.  The  reason  may  convince  us  of  the  exist 
ence  of  God,  it  may  satisfy  us  of  the  reality  of  the  relation 
between  God  and  man,  but  it  can  never  enable  us  to  perceive  the 
beauty  of  that  life  of  communion  with  God  which  is  the  very 
heart  of  true  religion.  Reason  is  the  activity  of  the  human  mind 
working  on  the  materials  presented  to  it,  and  though  it  may  infer 
a  Mind  above  the  human,  it  can  no  more  attain  to  communion 
with  that  Mind  than  the  man  can  lift  himself  to  the  starry  world 
his  eyes  behold.  Religion  is  the  activity  of  the  spirit  responding 
to  the  influence  of  the  Divine  Spirit ;  a  life  of  feeling,  not  a 
process  of  thought ;  a  Divine  conception  within  the  soul,  not 
a  human  perception.  In  the  deepest  sense  it  is  not  the  stretching 
out  of  lame  hands  to  lind  a  God,  it  is  the  grasping  of  the  out 
stretched  hand  of  God.1 

Through  that  pure  Virgin-shrine, 
That  sacred  vail  drawn  o'er  thy  glorious  noon, 
That  men  might  look  and  live,  as  glo-worma  shine, 

And  face  the  moon, 
Wise  Nicodemus  saw  such  light 
As  made  him  know  his  God  by  night. 

Most  blest  believer  he! 

Who  in  that  land  of  darkness  and  blinde  eyes 
Thy  long  expected  healing  wings  could  see, 

When  Thou  didst  rise; 
And,  what  can  never  more  be  done, 
Did  at  mid-night  speak  with  the  Sun!* 


III. 

TFTE  DIVINK  TKACHER. 

Jesus  made  no  complaint  that  Nicodemus,  and  those  for  whom 
he  might  be  speaking,  regarded  Him  as  a  Teacher.  He  who 
spent  more  time  in  training  twelve  disciples  than  in  any  other 
task  was  not  likely  to  demur  when  any  man  came  to  Him  for 

1  Bernard  Lucas,  Conmtationt  with  Christ,  16. 

2  Ilriuy 


376  NICODEMUS 

instruction.  He  is  the  greatest  Teacher  who  has  ever  come  from 
God,  and  His  invitation  to  all  men  is,  "  Come  and  learn  of  me; 
and  ye  shall  find  rest  unto  your  souls."  It  is  His  purpose  to 
impart  to  men  an  education  such  as  cannot  be  received  in  any 
school  or  college  or  university  of  secular  knowledge — to  make 
them  wise  unto  salvation.  To  His  chosen  disciples  He  said  at 
the  end  of  their  three  years'  curriculum,  "  All  things  that  I  have 
heard  of  my  Father  I  have  made  known  unto  you";  and  He 
promised  that  after  He  was  gone,  the  Spirit  of  truth — His  own 
Spirit — would  come  to  guide  them  into  all  truth.  Verily  a 
Teacher  come  from  God !  But  also  more  than  a  Teacher.  For 
the  risen  Christ  who  allowed  Mary  Magdalene  to  address  Him 
as  "  Kabboni,"  "  my  Teacher,"  welcomed  also  the  adoring  words 
of  the  doubting  but  at  last  believing  disciple,  "  My  Lord  and  my 
God." 

U  "  We  know  that  thou  art  a  teacher  come  from  God." 
Perhaps  this  confession  expresses  not  amiss  the  feeling  both  of 
the  world  and  of  the  Church  toward  Christ  still.  He  is  a  teachei 
come  from  God.  Those  who  profess  to  believe  in  Him  have 
scarcely  got  further ;  for  at  what  problem  are  all  earnest  minds 
so  hard  at  work  as  at  this  problem  of  Christ  ?  And  what  is  called 
the  world  no  longer  cares  to  dispute  the  truth  of  these  words  in 
one  sense  or  another.  He  is  a  teacher  come  from  God.  There  is 
a  feeling  now  among  men,  the  majority  of  men,  that  Christ  is  the 
Highest  Being  the  world  can  ever  see ;  and  that  His  teaching  is 
from  God,  in  some  higher  sense  than  that  of  any  other.  This  is 
the  feeling  even  among  men  whom  we  do  not  call  believing.  I  do 
not  stop  to  speculate  whether  there  may  not  be  some  genuine 
faith  under  this  apparently  rather  negative  confession  ;  or  whether 
this  position,  which  men  of  thought  are  now  taking  up  with 
regard  to  Christ,  be  really  a  gain  or  a  loss  to  religion.  On  the 
one  hand,  it  may  seem  a  gain  that  they  concede  so  much,  even 
though  their  concessions  do  not  amount  to  faith  in  Him.  On  the 
other  hand,  half  a  truth  is  sometimes  more  dangerous  than  a 
whole  lie.  That  which  is  plainly  false  will  deceive  no  one ;  that 
which  is  false  at  heart,  but  glittering  with  a  gilding  of  truth,  may 
draw  and  seduce  many.1 

K  The  mode  of  Christ's  teaching  is  not  the  ratiocinative  but 

the  intuitional — not  philosophical  but  spiritual — in  this  having 

more  affinity  to  the  woman's  side  of  human  nature  than  the  man's. 

But  so  also  does  the  Jewish,  as  distinct  from  the  Greek,  form  of 

1  A.  B.  Davidson,  The  Called  of  God,  251. 


NICODEMUS  377 

thought  appeal  to  the  deep,  inmost  nature,  not  to  the  reasoning 
power.  Therefore  may  we  look  on  the  Jewish  mode  of  presenting 
truth  in  Psalms  and  Prophets  as  formed  beforehand  to  be  pre 
paratory  for  Christ's  own  mode  of  teaching.  It  was  the  fore 
casting  shadow  of  what  He  chose  as  best;  best,  as  suiting  the 
great  mass  of  mankind,  simple  as  well  as  learned,  young  as  well 
us  old ;  best,  as  being  adapted  to  the  great  principle  of  salvation 
by  faith,  by  trust,  which  mere  human  reason  spurns,  and  suited 
also  to  His  descent  as  the  woman's  seed,  keeping  predominant 
that  side  of  the  nature  which  fell  first,  and  is  to  be  first  in 
recovery.1 

IV. 

THE  HEART  OF  CHRISTIANITY. 

1.  Jesus  honours  Nicodemus  most  by  taking  him  by  the 
straightest  path  and  at  the  swiftest  pace  to  the  very  centre  of 
the  Christian  faith  and  life.  It  might,  have  been  pleasanter  for 
Nicodemus  if  He  had  kept  him  viewing  for  a  while  the  outposts 
of  Christianity,  instead  of  leading  him  at  once  to  the  citadel ;  if 
they  had  lingered  together  on  the  threshold  of  the  temple  of 
truth,  instead  of  immediately  penetrating  the  inner  shrine.  But 
time  was  precious,  and  that  night  had  to  be  made  the  most 
memorable  in  Nicodemus'  life.  So,  without  any  prelude,  Jesus  at 
once  utters  the  mighty  truth,  "  Except  a  man  be  born  anew,  he 
cannot  see  the  kingdom  of  God." 

In  emphatically  proclaiming  that  truth  Christ  does  what  John 
the  Baptist  had  done  not  long  before — He  lays  the  axe  at  the 
root  of  Pharisaic  pride.  He  knew,  as  everybody  else  knew,  that 
the  Pharisees  had  not  accepted  the  baptism  of  John.  In  the 
great  revival,  when  multitudes  of  all  classes  had  come  to  the 
austere  prophet  for  baptism  in  the  Jordan,  the  Pharisees  had 
stood  aloof.  They  "  rejected  for  themselves  the  counsel  of  God, 
being  not  baptized  of  him."  They  were  in  the  habit  of  saying  of 
any  Gentile  who  embraced  Judaism,  "He  is  born  again";  but 
that  a  Jew,  and  above  all  such  a  Hebrew  of  Hebrews  as  every 
Pharisee  counted  himself,  should  need  to  be  born  again  before 
he  could  enter  into  the  Kingdom  of  God — this  was  monstrous, 
incredible !  When  the  Kingdom  of  the  Messiah  came,  every 

1  Johu  Ker,  Thoughts  for  Heart  cuid  Life,  2\3. 


3;8  NICODEMUS 

conscientious  and  law-abiding  Jew  would  naturally  have  a  place 
in  it,  and  the  Jewish  nation  would,  equally  as  a  matter  of  course, 
have  precedence  of  all  the  Gentiles. 

That  was  the  creed  of  the  time.  But  Jesus  fairly  staggered 
Nicodemus,  and  shook  the  foundations  of  Jewish  piety,  by 
proclaiming,  "  Except  a  man  be  born  from  above,  he  cannot  see 
the  kingdom  of  God."  Not  "  except  a  publican  or  sinner,"  not 
"  except  a  Greek  or  Roman,"  not  "  except  a  barbarian  of  wild 
Scythia  or  heathen  of  dark  Ethiopia,"  but  "  except  a  man."  And 
Nicodemus  knew  that  Jesus  was  not  wasting  time  upon  abstract 
propositions,  but  was  speaking  to  the  point,  plainly  meaning  that 
Nicodemus  and  all  those  in  whose  name  he  was  speaking  needed 
to  prepare  themselves  for  the  Kingdom  of  God  by  humbling 
themselves  under  God's  mighty  hand,  coming  to  a  deep  sense  of 
their  sin,  and  receiving  a  new  heart  and  a  right  spirit. 

The  Pharisee,  like  every  common  man,  needed  to  be  born  of 
water  and  of  the  Spirit.  He  had  refused  the  water  of  repentance 
which  John  had  offered,  and  he  may  now  refuse  the  life-giving 
Spirit  which  Jesus  offers.  But  the  refusal  cannot  alter  the  fact : 
"  Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  thee,  Except  a  man  be  born  of  water 
and  of  the  Spirit,  he  cannot  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God." 
Thus  Jesus  effects  a  simultaneous  process  of  levelling  down  and 
levelling  up — levelling  down  the  Jews,  even  the  best  of  them, 
and  levelling  up  the  Gentiles,  even  the  worst  of  them.  Thus  He 
makes  them  all  one  before  God,  one  in  need  and  one  in  privilege : 
every  man  must  be  born  anew,  and  every  man  may  be  born  anew. 
Thus  He  obliterates  all  distinctions.  That  obliteration  was,  in 
the  eyes  of  the  Jews,  His  unpardonable  sin,  but  it  is  now,  in  the 
eyes  of  all  mankind,  His  unique  and  inalienable  merit. 

U  The  doctrine  of  the  new  birth  is  still  a  source  of  perplexity 
and  amazement  to  many.  It  is  said  of  an  Archbishop  of  York 
[Dr.  Drummond]  that  he  once  rebuked  one  of  his  clergy  in  words 
that  sound  strangely  from  the  lips  of  a  Christian  preacher,  saying, 
"  He  would  be  better  employed  in  preaching  the  morality  of 
Socrates  than  in  canting  about  the  new  birth."  There  are  many 
who  dismiss  the  truth  as  the  cant  of  evangelicalism ;  who  see 
nothing  but  absurdity  or  impossibility  in  it.  It  is  easy  to 
misunderstand  or  misrepresent  a  truth  which  is  instinct  with  the 
grace  and  hope  of  the  gospel.  Yet  where  there  is  any  glimmer  of 
spiritual  intelligence,  the  idea  of  the  new  birth  quickly  commends 


NICODEMUS  379 

itself.  The  Old  Testament  promise,  "  A  new  heart  also  will  I  give 
you,"  misleads  no  one,  and  the  new  birth  is  equally  intelligible. 
For  it  must  never  be  forgotten  that  the  expression  "  born  from 
above  "  is  only  a  figure — one  illustration  among  the  many  which 
are  employed  to  describe  the  beginning  of  salvation  in  the  soul  of 
man.  It  ia  a  passing  "  from  darkness  to  light,"  "  from  the  power 
of  Satan  unto  God,"  a  "conversion,"  turning  to  God  from  idols. 
It  is  a  "  redemption  "  from  slavery,  a  "  rising  from  the  dead  into 
newness  of  life."  It  is  a  "justification"  as  in  a  court  of  law. 
There  is  no  end  to  the  symbolism  of  salvation.  All  the  great 
experiences  of  the  life  of  man  which  involve  a  radical  or  effectual 
change  are  susceptible  of  spiritual  significance.  The  figure  of 
birth  differs  from  all  others  only  in  the  pregnancy  of  its  meaning, 
and  in  its  suggestiveness  of  mystery  and  human  helplessness. 
The  life  of  the  Kingdom  of  God  is  something  different  from  the 
natural  life  of  man.  The  experience  with  which  it  begins  is  so 
thorough  in  its  effects  and  so  hidden  in  its  method  that  it  is 
likened  to  a  birth.  In  no  clearer  way  could  the  distinctively 
spiritual  character  of  that  life  be  described.1 

2.  If  Nicodemus  reeled  under  the  blow  which  the  quiet  words 
of  Jesus  inflicted  on  his  pride,  he  quickly  recovered  himself. 
There  was  something,  not  only  in  the  authoritative  manner  of 
Jesus,  but  also  in  Nicodemus'  own  conscience,  which  made  it 
impossible  for  him  to  question  even  for  a  moment  the  truth 
announced  by  the  Teacher  come  from  God.  At  home  among  his 
books,  over  which  he  had  burned  so  much  midnight  oil,  he  might 
have  questioned,  and  repudiated,  the  humiliating  doctrine.  In 
the  Sanhedrin  among  his  peers  he  would  have  heard  it  not  only 
questioned  but  even  ridiculed  on  every  side.  But  in  the  presence 
of  Jesus,  whose  pure  eyes  searched  the  depths  of  his  soul,  he 
inwardly  acknowledged  the  truth  that  even  a  law-abiding 
Pharisee  needed  to  undergo  as  radical  a  change  of  heart  as  a 
profane  publican  or  a  godless  pagan. 

But,  granting  that  a  man — even  a  superman,  such  as  every 
Pharisee  imagined  himself  to  be — must  be  born  again  before  he 
can  enter  the  Kingdom  of  God,  there  arises  an  extremely  difficult 
problem  as  to  the  way  in  which  this  is  to  be  done.  To  the  wit  of 
man  it  is  not  only  a  difficult  but  an  absolutely  baffling  problem. 
How  can  an  old  man,  bound  by  all  the  habits  of  a  lifetime,  free 

1  John  Rpjil,  Jfsus  and  Nicodcinus,  rt6. 


380  NICODEMUS 

himself  from  his  past,  and  begin  a  new  life  ?  It  may  be  necessary, 
and  who  will  deny  that  it  is  desirable  ?  Who  has  not  sometimes 
said  in  tones  of  infinite  regret : 

Oh,  to  go  back  across  the  years  long  vanished, 

To  have  the  words  unsaid,  the  deeds  undone, 
The  errors  cancelled,  the  dark  shadows  banished, 

In  the  glad  sense  of  a  new  world  begun; 
To  be  a  little  child,  whose  page  of  story 

Is  yet  undimmed,  unblotted  by  a  stain, 
And  in  the  sunrise  of  primeval  glory 

To  know  that  life  has  had  its  start  again  ! 

Yet  what  seems  so  desirable,  and  what,  Jesus  declares  to  be 
indispensable,  may  after  all  be  impossible.  That  is  the  feeling  of 
Nicodemus  and  of  all  thoughtful  men  in  every  age.  They  have 
come  to  an  impasse.  Ah !  if  it  were  but  possible  to  be  little 
children  over  again — to  begin  to  live  life  again,  to  undo  all  the 
evils  of  our  life,  to  be  living  and  yet  without  the  evils  that  have 
gathered  about  our  life,  to  have  no  memory  of  sin,  to  feel  nr  blots 
on  our  soul,  to  have  made  no  mistakes  in  life,  to  have  done  no 
wrong,  nothing  that  calls  up  the  blush  on  our  cheek,  to  have 
nothing  against  which  we  fret  and  dash  ourselves  in  vain,  like 
poor  captive  creatures  against  the  iron  cage  that  holds  them, 
torturing  ourselves  over  an  irrevocable  un worthiness ;  to  have 
the  joy  and  the  unclouded  hopefulness,  the  fresh  and  unstained 
powers  of  the  child — to  be  born  again  when  one  is  old  !  Can 
it  be? 

H  A  man  who  is  converted  in  the  New  Testament  sense  is  one 
who  has  surrendered  to  forces  immeasurably  greater  than  any 
thing  he  has  of  himself ;  one  who  has  awakened  to  the  over 
whelming  consciousness  of  a  spiritual  world  brought  to  a  focus 
before  him  in  the  Person  of  Christ ;  one  who  finds  the  little  bay 
of  his  individual  life,  with  all  its  little  pebbles  and  little  shells 
and  little  weeds,  flooded  by  the  tide  of  a  great  deep,  over  which 
the  very  Spirit  of  God  broods.1 

^[  There  is  a  touching  little  poem  by  Dora  Greenwell  (A  Good 
Confession),  suggested  by  the  inscription  on  a  tombstone  in  a 
country  churchyard  in  Wales,  which  tells  how  he  who  lies  below 
passed  away  at  the  age  of  eighty,  and  yet — referring  to  the  date 

1  H.  Wheeler  Robinson,  The  Christian  Doctrine  of  Man,  322. 


NICODEMUS  381 

of  his  conversion  to  Christ — was  only  "  four  years  old  when  he 
died  " — 

"  If  you  ask    ine  how  long   1    have  been  in  the  world,  I'm  old 

—I'm  very  old ; 
If  you  ask   me  how  many  years  I've  lived,  it'll  very  soon  be 

told— 
Past  eighty  years  of  age,  yet  only  four  years  old  ! " 1 


V. 

THE  SPIRIT  OF  GOD. 

Jesus'  answer  to  Nicodemus'  pathetic  and  almost  despairing 
question — the  question  which  rises  from  the  troubled  heart  of 
humanity  itself — is  sublimely  simple.  He  indicates  that  man's 
extremity  is  God's  opportunity,  and  that  the  thing  which  seems  to 
us  impossible  becomes  easy  when  we  have  all  Omnipotence  to  aid 
us.  The  new  life  which  is  the  true  life  is  the  gift  of  God.  The 
Spirit  breathes  where  He  lists,  in  the  souls  of  the  young  or  the 
old,  the  virtuous  or  the  vicious,  the  Jew  or  the  Gentile,  the  Pharisee 
or  the  publican ;  and  everywhere  His  breath  is  life-giving.  The 
life  which  He  imparts,  like  every  other  form  of  life,  is  an  ultimate 
reality  which  man  can  neither  create  nor  define.  But  of  its  truth 
there  can  be  no  reasonable  question.  Every  man  who  sincerely 
repents  of  his  sin  and  accepts  Divine  forgiveness  passes  out  of 
death  into  life.  He  is  "  born,  not  of  blood,  nor  of  the  will  of  the 
flesh,  nor  of  the  will  of  man,  but  of  God."  And  being  so  born,  he 
can  see  the  Kingdom  of  God.  And  this  new  life  is  mediated  to 
him  by  the  Son  of  man,  lifted  up  that  whosoever  believeth  in 
Him  may  have  life  eternal. 

The  Spirit  does  His  work  by  glorifying  Christ,  imparts  life  by 
revealing  Christ :  "  He  shall  take  of  mine,  and  declare  it  unto 
you."  Pvegeneration  is  the  beginning  of  a  supernatural  life,  in 
which  man  realizes  himself  by  living  in,  with,  for,  and  like  Christ. 

Ti  The  act  of  being  born  again  is  as  mysterious  as  God.  All 
the  complaints  which  have  been  showered  upon  this  doctrine  have 
referred  to  the  act — the  act  with  which  we  have  really  nothing  to 
do,  which  is  a  process  of  God,  the  agency  of  the  unseen  wind 

1  G.  Jackson,  Fin*  Things  First,  247. 


382  NICODEMUS 

of  the  Spirit,  and  which  Jesus  Himself  has  expressly  warned  us 
not  to  expect  to  understand.  "Thou  canst  not  tell,"  He  said, 
"  whence  it  cometh  or  whither  it  goeth." 

But  there  is  nothing  to  frighten  search  in  this.  For  precisely 
the  same  kind  of  mystery  hangs  over  every  process  of  nature  and 
life.  We  do  not  understand  the  influence  of  sunshine  on  the 
leaves  of  a  flower  at  this  spring-time,  any  more  than  we  do  the 
mysterious  budding  of  spiritual  life  within  the  soul ;  but  botany 
is  a  science  for  all  that. 

We  do  not  give  up  the  study  of  chemistry  as  hopeless  because 
we  fail  to  comprehend  the  unseen  laws  which  guide  the  delicate 
actions  and  reactions  of  matter.  Nor  do  we  disbelieve  in  the 
influence  of  food  on  the  vital  frame  because  no  man  has  found  the 
point  exactly  at  which  it  passes  from  dead  nourishment  into  life. 
We  do  not  avoid  the  subject  of  electricity  because  electricity  is  a 
mystery,  or  heat  because  we  cannot  see  heat,  or  meteorology 
because  we  cannot  see  the  wind.  Marvel  not  then,  from  the 
analogy  of  physical  nature,  if,  concerning  this  Spirit  of  Kegenera- 
tion,  we  cannot  tell  whence  it  cometh  and  whither  it  goeth.  It  is 
not  on  that  account  unintelligible  that  a  man  should  be  born 
again.1 

VI. 

NOT  ASHAMED  OF  CHRIST. 

1.  The  Evangelist  does  not  tell  us  at  what  time  of  the  night 
or  in  what  frame  of  mind  Nicodernus  left  the  presence  of  Jesus. 
But  he  gives  us  two  later  glimpses  of  the  man,  both  of  which  are  in 
the  highest  degree  suggestive.  The  time  came  when  the  chief 
priests  and  Pharisees  tried  to  arrest  Jesus.  They  failed,  however, 
because  their  own  servants  refused  to  obey  orders,  choosing  to 
incur  the  displeasure  of  their  masters  sooner  than  lay  hands  on 
Him  who,  as  they  declared,  spake  as  never  man  spake.  Angry  as 
the  masters  were  at  such  insubordination,  they  did  their  best  to 
conceal  their  feelings.  After  all,  what  did  they  care  for  the 
opinion  of  the  vulgar  crowd — the  mob  who  did  not  know  the 
law  ?  What  really  mattered  was  the  opinion  of  the  learned  and 
influential  class.  Had  any  of  the  rulers  or  of  the  Pharisees 
believed  in  the  Nazarene  ?  Nicodemus  was  present  and  heard  the 
question,  which  sounded  like  a  challenge.  And  he  took  a  bold 

1  Heury  Drurumond,  The  Id>at  Life,  190. 


NICODEMUS  383 

step.  His  conscience  said  that  silence  would  be  treason  and 
cowardice.  He  knew  that  he  would  despise  himself  for  ever  if  he 
failed  to  speak  out.  And  rising  to  his  feet,  he  calmly,  plainly,  and 
rightly  told  all  the  victims  of  passion  and  prejudice  that  they 
were  doing  what  their  own  law  forbade  them  to  do — judging  a 
man  to  whom  they  had  never  given  a  hearing. 

Our  chief  interest  in  the  dramatic  scene  lies  in  the  last 
speaker.  Nicodemus  has  given  Jesus  a  hearing — has  spent  a 
never-to-be-forgotten  night  in  intimate  fellowship  with  Him — and 
this  is  the  result.  He  is  making  rapid  progress.  If  he  does  not 
yet  say,  "  I,  a  ruler  and  a  Pharisee,  believe  in  Him,"  he  at  least 
fervently  wishes  that  all  his  fellow-rulers  could  see  what  he  has 
seen  and  hear  what  he  has  heard.  He  would  not  fear  the  issue. 
Lack  of  faith  is  often  but  another  name  for  imperfect  knowledge. 
There  is  much  less  invincible  ignorance  in  the  world  than  one 
might  think.  Let  Christ  have  a  chance.  Let  Christianity  be 
heard,  and  it  will  speak  to  the  heart  of  mankind  with  self- 
evidencing  power.  The  Word  of  life  needs  only  to  be  seen,  looked 
upon,  handled.  The  Truth  is  great  and  will  prevail. 

H  In  the  supreme  court  which  resolves  to  lay  hands  on  Jesus, 
there  is  one  dissenting  voice — the  voice  of  Nicodemus.  It  is  the 
last  voice  we  should  have  expected.  We  are  disposed  to  say,  "  Is 
this  the  man  who  a  little  while  ago  was  eager  to  sink  himself  in 
the  spirit  of  the  age  ! "  He  now  stands  forth  opposed  to  the  age 
— stands  out  as  a  solitary  individual  breasting  the  waves  of  a 
crowd,  and  cries  with  fearless  love  of  justice,  "  Does  our  law  judge 
any  man  before  it  hears  him  !  "  We  marvel  at  the  spectacle.  It  is 
not  that  we  see  a  growing  stature — we  expect  time  to  bring  that. 
It  is  that  we  witness  a  transformation.  Nicodemus  has  changed 
his  weakness  into  a  strength.  He  has  become  strong  in  the  very 
point  in  which  he  was  defective.  On  the  night  in  which  he  stood 
before  Jesus  he  was  unwilling  to  be  alone ;  on  the  day  in  which 
he  stands  before  the  Sanhedrin  he  is  unwilling  to  be  in  company, 
lie  asserts  the  right  of  his  own  individual  soul.  He  is  a  fine 
example  of  the  difl'erence  between  what  is  called  nature  and  what 
is  called  grace.  Nature  can  improve  a  man  ;  grace  transforms 
him.1 

2.  NicodemiiH  reappears  a  second  time  in  the  gospel  story,  at 
the  end  of  the  greatest  of  all  dramas.  Things  have  reached  a 

1  O.  Al.it  in  son,  The  lieprttenUdiw  Aim  of  Hit  New  Tftlamenl,  127. 


384  NICODEMUS 

head  with  the  Teacher  come  from  God  ;  His  life-blood  has  been  shed 
on  the  cross,  and  the  dishonoured  body  hangs  disowned  upon  the 
tree.  Will  no  man  be  bold  enough  to  own  it  ?  Will  not  the  force 
of  love  break  through  even  the  terrible  array  of  the  unanimous 
verdict  of  the  world  ?  It  will.  And  of  the  two  men  who  at  that 
moment  were  strong  enough  to  brave  opinion,  Nicodemus,  the 
modest,  shrinking,  timid  ruler,  was  one.  "And  Joseph  of 
Arirnathaea  .  .  .  besought  Pilate  that  he  might  take  away  the 
body  of  Jesus  :  and  Pilate  gave  him  leave.  And  there  came  also 
Nicodemus,  which  at  the  first  came  to  Jesus  by  night,  bringing  a 
mixture  of  myrrh  and  aloes,  about  an  hundred  pound  weight. 
Then  took  they  the  body  of  Jesus,  and  wound  it  in  linen  clothes 
with  the  spices,  as  the  manner  of  the  Jews  is  to  bury." 

1J  As  the  two  good  men  [Nicodemus  and  Joseph]  stood  by  the 
cross,  what  would  pass  through  the  mind  of  Nicodemus  ?  Would 
it  not  be  this  :  "  As  Moses  lifted  up  the  serpent  in  the  wilderness, 
even  so  must  the  Son  of  man  be  lifted  up."  How  reverently  and 
lovingly  they  two  handle  that  body  !  What  a  funeral !  only  two 
mourners,  but  many  spectators,  for  all  the  angels  in  heaven  were 
looking  on.  It  was  the  burial  of  the  King  of  kings.  Dr.  Mason 
of  New  York  was  once  at  the  funeral  of  a  young  man,  and  he 
thought  the  pall-bearers  were  going  a  little  too  fast.  He  went 
forward,  and,  touching  them  softly,  he  said,  "Walk  softly;  you 
are  carrying  a  temple  of  the  Holy  Ghost."  If  that  could  be  said 
of  a  follower  of  Christ,  what  of  the  blessed  Master  Himself? 
Nicodemus  is  hazarding  his  life  as  well  as  his  reputation.  He  is 
lavishing  his  wealth  on  Christ.  Christ's  dying  love  has  filled  his 
heart.  He  counts  it  an  honour  to  roll  the  stone  to  the  sepulchre- 
door,  as  the  angel  did  to  roll  it  back.  Learn  like  Nicodemus  to 
confess  a  Christ  that  died.  Men  preach  the  imitation  of  Christ, 
but  it  is  the  death  of  Christ  that  brings  life  to  the  soul1 

1  lieminisccnccs  of  Aiulrcw  A.  Bonar,  o2t>. 


GAIAPHAS. 


MARY-SIMON 25 


LITERATURE. 

Broade,  G.  E.,  The  Sixfold  Trial  of  Our  Lord  (1899),  9. 

Brodrick,   M.,   The    Trial   and    Crucifixion   of  Jesus  Christ   of  Nazareth 

(1908),  61. 

Burn,  A.  E.,  The  Crown  of  Thorns  (1911),  13. 
Cameron,  A.  B.,  From  the  Garden  to  the  Cross  (1896),  83. 
Clow,  W.  M.,  The  Day  of  the  Cross  (1909),  13. 
English,  E.,  Sermons  and  Homilies  (1913),  109. 
Farrar,  F.  W.,  The  Life  of  Lives  (1900),  482. 
Gifford,  E.  H.,  Voices  of  the  Prophets  (1874),  75. 
Hough,  L.  H.,  The  Men  of  the  Gospels  (1913),  63. 
Inge,  W.  R.,  All  Saints'  Sermons  (1907),  30. 
Innes,  A.  T.,  The  Trial  of  Jesus  Christ  (1899),  10. 
Lightfoot,  J.  B.,  Sermons  Preached  in  St.  PauVs  Cathedral  (1891),  75. 
Little,  W.  J.  K.,  Sunlight  and  Shadow  (1892),  229. 
Luckock,  H.  M.,  Footprints  of  the  Son  of  Man  as  traced  by  St.  Mark,  ii. 

(1886)  252. 
Maclaren,  A.,  Christ  in  the  Heart  (1886),  257. 

„          „     Expositions  :  St.  Matthew  xviii.-xxviii.  (1906),  286,  290. 

„          „  „  St.  John  ix.-xiv.  (1907),  107. 

Morrison,  G.  H.,  The  Footsteps  of  the  Flock  (1904),  265. 
Mortimer,  A.  G.,  Meditations  on  the  Passion  of  Our  Most  Holy  Redeemer, 

i.  (1903)  111. 

Moulton,  J.  H.,  Visions  of  Sin  (1898),  117. 
Rosadi,  G.,  The  Trial  of  Jesus  (1905),  155. 
Simcox,  W.  H.,  The  Cessation  of  Prophecy  (1891),  278. 
Smith,  J.,  Short  Studies  (1901),  191. 

Stalker,  J.,  The  Trial  and  Death  of  Jesus  Christ  (1894),  14, 
Stevenson,  J.  G.,  The  Judges  of  Jesus  (1909),  83. 
Watson,  J.,  The  Life  of  the  Master  (1902),  363. 
Churchman's  Pulpit :  Lenten  Season,  v.  130  (G.  T.  Shettle). 
Dictionary  of  the  Bible,  i.  (1910)  338  (J.  A.  M'Clymont). 
Dictionary  of  Christ  and  the  Gospels,  i.  (1906)  251  (C.  A.  ScoLt). 
Expositor,  6th  Ser.,  i.  (1900)  407  (W.  M.  Macgregor). 
Expository  Times,  x.  (1899)  185  (E.  Nestle). 


CATAPHAS. 

Now  Caiaphas  was  he  which  gave  counsel  to  the  Jews,  that  it  was 
expedient  that  one  man  should  die  for  the  people.— John  xviii.  14. 

OF  all  the  men  mentioned  in  the  crucifixion  records,  Caiaphas  is 
surely  the  most  despicable.  He  was  that  not  uncommon  pheno 
menon,  a  man  of  low  character  in  a  high  place.  In  religion  he 
found,  not  a  conviction,  but  a  career ;  and  so  there  fell  upon  him 
the  Nemesis  of  those  who  traffic  in  high  things,  without  making 
to  them  adequate  spiritual  response. 

1.  Who  was  this  Caiaphas,  and  what  were  his  antecedents  ? 
The  real  ruling  spirit  in  the  Sanhedrin  was  the  aged  Annas,  who 
had  been  high  priest  twenty  years  before,  till  Valerius  Gratus, 
Pilate's    predecessor,   deposed    him    for    exceeding    his   powers. 
Annas  had  five  sons,  who  were  high  priests  one  after  the  other, 
and  his  daughter's  husband  was  Joseph  Caiaphas,  a  man  of  more 
supple  and  adroit  character  than  Annas  and  his  family,  as  is 
shown  by  the  fact  that  he  remained  high  priest  for  eleven  years. 
Annas  was  still  regarded  by  the  Jews  as  high  priest  de  jure, 
and  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  the  family  played  into  each 
other's  hands,  and  divided  among  themselves  the  most  important 
and  lucrative  posts  at  the  Temple. 

2.  Thus    Caiaphas    belonged   to   the   sect   of    the   Sadduceee. 
Now  Christ's  great  opponents  throughout  His  ministry  had  been 
the  Pharisees.     They  met  Him  at  every  turn,  and  strove  to  refute 
Him.     But  many  of  them  were  well  affected  to  Him.     One  of 
them  became  a  disciple ;  another  laid  His  crucified  body  in  his 
own  tomb.     Some  of  them  may  have  thought  it  possible  to  win 
the   brilliant   young  Rabbi  of   Nazareth    to   their   ranks.      The 
Pharisees  alone  would  not  have  put  Jesus  to  death.     But  the 
Sudducees,  except  in  one  instance,  did  not  controvert  with  Jesus. 

3«7 


388  CAIAPHAS 

They  were  the  priestly  party,  and  were  to  be  found  chiefly  in 
Jerusalem.  Their  lives  and  interests  centred  in  the  Temple. 
When  Christ  crossed  their  path,  when  His  growing  influence 
threatened  theirs,  when  His  leadership  became  a  peril  to  their 
predominance,  and  His  popularity  a  danger  to  their  safety,  they 
did  not  parley  with  Him.  They  acted.  "  They  took  counsel  to 
put  him  to  death,"  and  rested  neither  day  nor  night  until  He 
hung  upon  the  cross.  It  was  the  Sadducees  who  crucified  Christ. 
And  the  leader  of  the  Sadducees  was  Caiaphas. 


His  CONDUCT 

We  have  only  a  few  glimpses  of  Caiaphas  in  the  Gospels- 
He  appears  and  speaks  a  few  words  and  then  passes  from  view. 
But  his  words  are  always  very  influential,  and  the  glimpses  we 
have  of  him  allow  us  to  look  right  into  his  life  and  see  what 
manner  of  man  he  was. 

1.  From  an  early  day,  probably,  his  spies  kept  him  informed 
concerning  Christ ;  and  it  is  quite  certain  that  on  the  day  after 
Jesus  cleansed  the  Temple,  every  priest  in  Jerusalem  knew  every 
thing  there  was  to  know  about  Him.  From  that  time  onward 
our  Lord  must  have  been  classified  by  Caiaphas  as  a  dangerous 
person ;  and  the  high  priest  no  doubt  made  up  his  mind  that 
He  must  be  either  silenced  or  slain.  This  resolve  did  not,  how 
ever,  mean  that  Caiaphas  gave  way  to  panic.  He  simply  reckoned 
up  our  Lord  from  his  own  standpoint,  he  made  up  his  mind  as 
to  his  own  policy,  and  he  was  content  to  wait  until  events 
justified  both  the  declaration  of  that  policy  and  the  carrying 
out  of  it. 

What  Caiaphas  must  have  anticipated  at  last  came  to  pass. 
Jesus  raised  Lazarus  from  the  dead.  Full  of  alarm,  the  Pharisees 
joined  their  old  enemies  the  Sadducee  "  chief  priests  "  in  a  council 
deliberation.  They  expressed  their  agitation  in  words  which 
admitted  the  reality  of  the  Wonder-worker's  "  signs,"  while  they 
dexterously  brought  out  the  one  point  of  danger  which  they  knew 
was  sure  to  rouse  the  Sadducees.  If  the  authorities  of  the  Jewish 


CAIAPHAS  389 

Church  continued  to  leave  aloiie  the  mail  who  ignored  their  riglii 
to  license  or  to  suppress  Him,  the  whole  people  would  flock  to  Hin 
standard.  And  then  the  dreaded  Romans,  so  relentless  to  crush 
every  kind  of  association  among  their  subjects,  lest  haply  its  object 
might  be  political,  would  put  out  the  iron  hand  of  empire  am! 
destroy  with  one  easy  stroke  their  "  place  and  nation."  Their 
holy  and  beautiful  "place,"  where  their  fathers  worshipped  God, 
and  from  which  the  Sadducees  derived  so  comfortable  an  income 
—their  "nation,"  the  chosen  people  of  God,  which  formed  so 
appreciative  an  audience  for  the  display  of  Pharisee  holiness — all 
would  be  swept  away,  and  what  were  they  to  do  ? 

But  however  they  might  agitate  or  hesitate,  there  was  one 
man  who  knew  his  own  mind — Caiaphas,  the  high  priest.  He 
had  no  doubt  as  to  what  was  the  right  thing  to  do.  He  had  the 
advantage  of  a  perfectly  clear  and  single  purpose,  and  no  sort  of 
restraint  of  conscience  or  delicacy  kept  him  from  speaking  it  out. 
He  was  impatient  at  their  vacillation,  and  he  brushed  it  all  aside 
with  the  brusque  and  contemptuous  speech:  "Ye  know  nothing 
at  all !  The  one  point  of  view  for  us  to  have  is  our  own  interests. 
Let  us  have  that  clearly  understood :  when  we  once  ask  what  is 
expedient  for  us/  there  will  be  no  doubt  about  the  answer.  This 
man  must  die !  Never  mind  about  His  miracles,  or  His  teaching, 
or  the  beauty  of  His  character.  His  life  is  a  perpetual  danger  to 
our  prerogatives.  I  vote  for  death  ! " 

John  regards  this  selfish,  cruel  advice  as  a  prophecy.  Caiaphas 
spoke  wiser  things  than  he  knew.  The  Divine  Spirit  breathed  in 
strange  fashion  through  even  such  lips  as  his,  and  moulded  his 
savage  utterance  into  such  a  form  that  it  became  a  fit  expression 
for  the  very  deepest  thought  about  the  nature  and  the  power  of 
Christ's  death.  He  did  indeed  die  for  that  people — thinks  the 
Evangelist — even  though  they  have  rejected  Him,  and  the  dreaded 
Romans  have  come  and  taken  away  our  place  and  nation ;  but  His 
death  had  a  wider  purpose,  and  was  not  for  that  nation  only,  but 
also  that  "  He  should  gather  together  in  one  the  children  of  God 
that  are  scattered  abroad." 

^]  "  It  is  expedient  that  one  man  should  die."  We  all  acknow 
ledge  the  truth  of  this  prophecy,  as  the  Evangelist  acknowledged 
it.  But  what  would  CaiuphaH  himself  have  said  if  he  had  foreseen 
the  result  ?  I  turn  over  the  pages  of  history,  and  1  find  that  a 


390  CAIAPHAS 

few  years  after  these  words  were  uttered,  Caiaphas  was  deposed 
from  the  high  priesthood  by  these  very  Romans  whom  he  was  so 
very  eager  to  conciliate.  I  look  further,  and  I  read  that  some 
thirty  years  later  still,  while  many  present  at  this  council  of 
priests  and  Pharisees  were  yet  living,  the  Romans  did  come  and 
take  away  both  their  place  and  nation ;  and  this,  because  in  place 
of  believing  on  the  true  Christ,  whose  Kingdom  was  not  of  this 
world,  who  commanded  to  give  tribute  to  Caesar,  they  chose  as 
their  leaders  false  Messiahs,  political  adventurers,  whose  schemes 
of  earthly  dominion  were  dangerous  to  the  power  and  the  majesty 
of  Rome.1 


2.  Once  resolved  on  the  removal  of  the  dangerous  Teacher,  the 
high  priests  endeavoured  to  secure  it  as  quickly  and  as  quietly  as 
possible.  The  Galilsean  multitude  must  be  avoided,  for  the  arrest 
of  "  the  Prophet  Jesus,  from  Nazareth  of  Galilee,"  would  rouse  all 
the  smouldering  antagonism  between  Galilaean  and  Judaean,  and 
provoke  a  riot  which  would  bring  down  the  rough  hand  of  Rome 
on  both  alike.  But  after  the  feast  Jesus  would  presumably  have 
retired  to  the  north  again.  Their  only  chance,  therefore,  was  to 
make  Him  somehow  a  Roman  prisoner  before  His  friends  could 
effect  a  rescue.  But  that  proved  a  difficult  task.  Surrounded 
throughout  the  week  by  loyal  and  admiring  crowds,  or  attended 
constantly  by  the  bodyguard  of  devoted  disciples,  He  could  not  be 
taken  without  speedy  alarm  being  given.  The  treachery  of  Judas 
at  last  helped  them  out  of  their  difficulty ;  and  when  the  oppor 
tunity  came,  though  on  the  very  day  they  most  wished  to  avoid, 
they  took  a  force  large  enough  to  overpower  all  opposition  likely 
to  be  met  at  such  an  hour,  and  arrested  Jesus  in  Gethsemane. 

At  last  Jesus  and  Caiaphas  were  face  to  face ;  and  the  time 
for  which  the  high  priest  had  plotted  had  really  commenced. 
Imagine  the  scene  in  that  awful  room  in  the  high  priest's  house. 
Since  the  meeting  was  illegal,  it  will  probably  have  been  also 
more  or  less  informal ;  but  something  like  the  ordinary  procedure 
of  the  Sanhedrin  must  have  been  followed.  At  the  central 
point  of  the  inner  circumference  of  a  semicircle  sat  Caiaphas, 
the  president  of  the  court ;  and  to  the  right  and  left  of  him  were 
seated  his  colleagues.  At  each  end  was  a  clerk,  the  one  to  record 
votes  for  acquittal,  the  other  those  for  condemnation. 

1  J.  B.  Lightfoot,  Sermons  Preac/wd  in  $t.  Paul's  Cathedral,  78. 


CAIAPHAS  391 

The  proceedings  of  the  court  were  scandalous.  Caiaphas  had 
cynically  avowed  his  intention  of  destroying  the  prisoner  on 
political  grounds,  and  stuck  at  nothing  to  carry  out  his  purpose. 
In  the  first  place,  the  trial  was  begun  and  finished  in  one  night. 
This  was  illegal.  The  proper  course  was  to  put  the  prisoner  in 
ward  till  the  next  day,  as  was  done  with  Peter  and  John.  Next, 
the  private  official  interrogatories  addressed  by  the  magistrate  to 
the  prisoner,  before  hearing  witnesses,  were  quite  illegal  by  Jewish 
law,  though  they  are  permitted  in  France.  When  Jesus  replied 
to  them,  "  Why  askest  thou  me  ?  ask  them  that  have  heard  me," 
He  was  claiming  His  legal  rights.  Thirdly,  the  demand  for  con 
fession,  at  the  end  of  the  questioning,  was  expressly  forbidden 
by  the  Jewish  doctors.  Fourthly,  the  contradictory  evidence  of 
the  "  two  false  witnesses  "  was  accepted  as  a  charge  of  blasphemy, 
and  the  rest  of  the  trial,  which  up  till  now  had  been  quite  vague, 
was  a  trial  for  blasphemy.  But  as  even  that  court  could  not  convict 
on  such  evidence,  another  attempt  was  made  to  cross-examine  the 
Prisoner,  again  illegally.  Jesus  again  asserted  His  legal  rights  and 
refused  to  answer.  The  concluding  scene  was  held  probably  in 
the  great  hall  called  Gazith,  and  the  court  now  consisted  of  the 
whole  Sauhedrin,  seventy-one  in  number,  who  sat  in  a  semicircle 
with  the  presiding  judge  in  the  middle  of  the  arc.  The  forms  of  a 
law-court  were  now  forgotten  in  a  wild  scene  of  excitement.  "  Art 
thou  the  Christ  ?  Tell  us  !  "  cried  the  judges.  "  If  I  tell  you,  ye 
will  not  believe,"  said  the  Prisoner,  breaking  silence  at  last.  Then 
the  high  priest  saw  his  opportunity  arid  rose.  "  I  adjure  thee 
by  the  living  God,  that  thou  tell  us  whether  thou  be  the  Christ, 
the  Son  of  God."  The  answer  came :  "  I  am."  At  once  Caiaphas 
rent  his  robe  from  the  top  to  the  bottom,  as  the  law  was  when 
one  heard  the  name  of  God  blasphemed,  and  cried :  "  He  hath 
spoken  blasphemy :  what  need  of  witnesses  ?  Ye  heard  him. 
What  think  ye  ? "  They  all  answered,  "  He  is  Ish  Afavcth — a  man 
of  death." 

^|  Caiaphas  little  thought  that  he  was  sealing  the  doom,  not 
of  his  prisoner,  but  of  himself,  his  office,  and  his  nation.  In  the 
sight  of  God,  ;ind  in  the  eye  of  history  too,  it  was  not  Jesus,  but 
the  high  priest  and  the  high  priesthood  who  were  tried,  found 
guilty,  and  condemned  on  that  day.1 

1  W.  R.  Inge,  All  Xaints'  Senimn*,  33. 


392  CAIAPHAS 

^j  The  great  importance  of  the  trial  for  our  purpose  lies  in  the 
fact  that  the  issue  raised  was  Christ's  claim  to  be  the  Son  of  God, 
the  Messiah  of  Israel,  and  a  King.  He  was  tried  unfairly  and 
judged  unjustly,  but  the  true  issue  was  raised.  He  died,  then, 
because  before  the  Jews  He  claimed  to  be  the  Son  of  God  and  the 
Messiah,  and  before  Pilate  to  be  Christ  and  King. 

All  generations  since  have  felt  that  the  judged  was  the  Judge. 
The  men  were  really  standing  before  the  bar  of  Christ,  and  all 
appear  in  terrible  distinctness,  revealed  by  the  Light  of  the  world. 

Caiaphas,  seeing  his  occasion  in  the  terror  of  the  nation  that 
the  Romans  might  efface  them,  and  urging  that  this  victim  would 
appease  the  suspicion  of  their  conquerors,  and  preserve  the  nation 
— a  consideration  so  important  as  to  make  it  of  no  consequence 
whether  He  was  innocent  or  not — is  a  type  of  one  who  mis 
interprets  the  Divine  covenant  which  he  represented. 

And  Jesus,  what  shall  we  say  of  Him  ?  The  great  character 
istic  of  the  history  is  missed  in  reading  it,  for  the  events 
pass  quickly  in  the  terse  narrative.  It  is  the  almost  utter 
silence  before  all  the  judges,  and  the  complete  passiveness  in  the 
hands  of  those  who  insulted — all  this,  accompanied,  as  has  been 
truly  imagined,  by  a  look,  not  of  fortitude  and  tension,  but  rather 
of  recollection,  as  if  there  was  nothing  in  all  these  insults  and 
questions  to  which  any  answer  or  expostulation  was  appropriate, 
but  rather  a  current  of  inevitable  passions  which  must  be,  but  the 
moving  spring  of  which  is  beyond  the  reach  of  words.  No  morbid 
dejection,  no  personal  resentment,  but  a  complete  detachment 
from  all  earthly  passion,  and  at  the  same  time  a  conscious  drawing 
out  of  deep  springs  of  strength  and  consolation,  which  no  human 
malice  could  reach  to  choke — infinitely  above  them  all,  their 
Judge  while  they  judged  Him.1 

11. 

His  CHAKA.CTER. 

Did  Caiaphas  know  that  he  was  killing  an  inspired  Prophet  ? 
No,  of  course  he  did  not.  "  Brethren,  I  wot  that  through  ignorance 
ye  did  it,  as  did  also  your  rulers,"  is  the  Apostolic  verdict.  The 
high  priest  condemned  the  Messiah  to  death  in  ignorance ;  and 
are  we  sure  that  the  prayer,  "  Father,  forgive  them,  for  they  know 
not  what  they  do,"  was  meant  to  apply  only  to  the  Koman  soldiers  ? 
But  ignorance  is  not  always  an  excuse.  Ignorance  is  a  consequence 

1  \V    R.  Nicoll,  The  Incarnate  Saviour,  219. 


CAIAPHAS  393 

as  well  as  a  cause.  If  the  high  priest,  when  confronted  with  the 
Son  of  God,  saw  in  Him  only  a  mischievous  agitator,  to  be  sup 
pressed  in  the  interests  of  the  Church,  we  must  ask,  Why  was 
this  judicial  blindness  sent  upon  him  ? 

Self-interest  mixed  with  religious  formalism  was  the  cause  of 
Caiaphas'  fall.  It  was  accelerated  by  his  unscrupulousness.  Take 
these  three  strands  separately. 

1.  Self-interest. — Our  Lord  had  exposed  the  selfishness  and 
hypocrisy  of  the  ruling  class  with  merciless  severity.  Only  a  few 
days  before  He  had  overturned  the  money-changers'  tables  in  the 
Temple  court  as  a  protest  against  a  highly  ingenious  and  lucrative 
form  of  extortion,  out  of  which  the  high  officials  enriched  them 
selves.  The  sacrificial  animals  could  be  bought  only  on  the  spot, 
at  a  price  fixed  by  the  priests;  and,  as  Roman  money  was  not 
taken,  those  who  brought  it  must  exchange  it  for  shekels — and 
the  rate  of  exchange  was  fixed  by  the  priests.  This  arrangement 
had  been  denounced  and  attacked ;  and  therefore  the  rulers 
thought,  "It  is  expedient  (not  for  us,  of  course,  but  for  the  people) 
that!  he  should  die."  Do  we  ever  give  our  parliamentary  and 
other  votes  for  ourselves  or  our  class,  and  then  find  some  patriotic 
reason  for  our  choice  ? 

This  selfish  consideration  of  our  own  interests  will  make  us 
as  blind  as  bats  to  the  most  radiant  beauty  of  truth ;  ay,  and  to 
Christ  Himself,  if  the  recognition  of  Him  and  of  His  message 
seems  to  threaten  any  of  these.  They  tell  us  that  fishes  which 
live  in  the  water  of  caverns  lose  their  eyesight;  and  men 
that  are  always  living  in  the  dark  holes  of  their  own  selfish, 
absorbed  natures  also  lose  their  spiritual  sight;  and  the  fairest, 
loftiest,  truest,  and  most  radiant  visions  (which  are  realities)  pass 
before  their  eyes,  and  they  see  them  not.  When  you  put  on 
regard  for  yourselves,  as  they  used  to  do  blinkers  upon  horses,  you 
have  no  longer  the  power  of  wide,  comprehensive  vision,  but  only 
see  straight  forward  upon  the  narrow  line  which  you  fancy  is 
marked  out  by  your  own  interests.  If  ever  there  comes  into  the 
selfish  man's  mind  a  truth,  or  an  aspect  of  Christ's  mission,  which 
may  seem  to  cut  against  some  of  his  practices  or  interests,  how 
blind  he  is  to  it !  When  Lord  Nelson  was  at  Copenhagen,  and 
they  hoisted  the  signal  of  recall,  he  put  his  telescope  to  hia 


394  CAIAPHAS 

blind  eye  and  said,  "  I  do  not  see  it "  !  And  that  is  exactly  what 
this  self-absorbed  regard  to  one's  own  interests  does  with  hundreds 
of  men  who  do  not  in  the  least  degree  know  it.  It  blinds  them 
to  the  plain  will  of  the  commander-in-chief  flying  there  at  the 
masthead.  "  There  are  none  so  blind  as  those  who  will  not  see  " ; 
and  there  are  none  who  so  certainly  will  not  see  as  those  who 
have  an  uneasy  suspicion  that  if  they  do  see  they  will  have  to 
change  their  tack. 

Look  at  the  contrast.  Against  the  overbearing  insolence  of 
Caiaphas,  "  Ye  know  nothing  at  all,"  set  the  perfect  resignation  of 
Christ,  "  Not  my  will,  but  thine  be  done."  Against  the  selfish  and 
cruel  policy  of  Caiaphas,  "  It  is  expedient  for  us — for  you  and  for 
me — that  one  man  should  die,"  set  the  absolute  renunciation  of 
Christ,  "  I  lay  down  my  life  for  my  sheep."  "  It  is  expedient  for 
you  that  I  go  away." 

Tf  Interest  in  the  common  good  is  at  present  so  weak  a  motive 
in  the  generality,  not  because  it  can  never  be  otherwise,  but 
because  the  mind  is  not  accustomed  to  dwell  on  it  as  it  dwells 
from  morning  till  night  on  things  which  tend  only  to  personal 
advantage.  When  called  into  activity,  as  only  self-interest  now  is, 
by  the  daily  course  of  life,  and  spurred  from  behind  by  the  love  of 
distinction  and  the  fear  of  shame,  it  is  capable  of  producing,  even 
in  common  men,  the  most  strenuous  exertions  as  well  as  the  most 
heroic  sacrifices.  The  deep-rooted  selfishness  which  forms  the 
general  character  of  the  existing  state  of  society  is  so  deeply 
rooted  only  because  the  whole  course  of  existing  institutions 
tends  to  foster  it ;  and  modern  institutions  in  some  respects  more 
than  ancient,  since  the  occasions  on  which  the  individual  is  called 
on  to  do  anything  for  the  public  without  receiving  its  pay  are  far 
less  frequent  in  modern  life  than  in  the  smaller  commonwealths 
of  antiquity.1 

2.  Religiosity. — One  of  the  awful  warnings  to  be  derived  from 
this  most  terrible  event  in  the  history  of  mankind  is  the  blindness, 
the  vanity,  the  capability  of  unutterable  wickedness  which  may 
co-exist  with  the  pretentious  scrupulosities  of  an  external  re 
ligionism.  The  priests  and  Pharisees  had  sunk  into  hypocrisy  so 
deep  and  habitual  that  it  had  become  half-unconscious,  because  it 
had  narcotized  and  all  but  paralyzed  the  moral  sense.  They  were 
infinitely  particular  about  peddling  littlenesses,  but,  with  a  hideous 

».T.  S.  Mill,  Autobiography  (ed.  1908),  133. 


CAIAPHAS  395 

cruelty  and  a  hateful  indifference  to  all  their  highest  duties  to 
God  and  man,  they  murdered,  on  false  charges,  the  Lord  of  Glory. 
A  vile  self-interest — the  determination  at  all  costs  to  maintain 
their  own  prerogatives,  and  to  prevent  all  questioning  of  their  own 
traditional  system — had  swallowed  up  every  other  consideration 
in  the  minds  of  men  whose  very  religion  had  become  a  thing  of 
rites  and  ceremonies,  and  had  lost  all  power  to  touch  the  heart  or 
to  inspire  the  moral  sense.  "  The  religion  of  Israel,"  it  has  been 
said,  "  falsified  by  priests,  perverted  from  the  service  of  the  Living 
God  into  a  sensuous  worship — where  the  symbol  superseded  the 
reality,  the  Temple  overshadowed  the  God,  and  the  hierarchy 
supplanted  His  law — could  find  no  love  in  its  heart,  no  reverence 
in  its  will,  for  the  holiest  Person  of  its  race ;  met  Him  not  as  the 
fruition  of  its  hopes,  and  the  end  of  its  being,  but  as  the  last 
calamity  of  its  life,  a  Being  who  must  perish  that  it  might 
live." 

For  Caiaphas  something  may  be  said.  All  that  he  knew  of 
religion  was  bound  up  with  the  Temple  service.  This  was  not,  in 
his  view,  a  vulgar  conflict  about  the  material  advantages  of  the 
priesthood;  he  was  a  custodier  of  a  great  tradition,  which  was 
seriously  threatened  by  the  Galilean  ministry.  By  clearing  the 
Temple  courts,  Jesus  had  called  attention  to  an  abuse  which  the 
priests  had  suffered  to  grow  up ;  and  011  the  same  occasion  He  had 
declared  that,  though  the  sanctity  of  the  Temple  were  altogether 
destroyed,  He  could  of  Himself  rear  up  a  new  order  of  right 
worship.  He  set  His  own  decision  against  that  of  Moses,  and 
affirmed  or  limited  parts  of  the  Law  as  one  who  had  authority. 
And  in  all  this  He  won  the  assent  of  many.  The  man  healed  of 
blindness  was  bold,  in  face  of  the  council,  to  declare,  "  He  is  a 
prophet."  Officers  sent  to  report  His  words  returned  with  a  new 
.sense  of  awe,  for  "  never  man  spake  like  this  man."  Men  of 
rank  within  the  council — Nicodemus  and  Joseph — were  wavering ; 
for  this  obscure  man,  of  whom  the  worst  was  credible,  was  some 
how  able  to  break  the  weapons  which  were  used  by  Caiaphas 
against  Him,  and  held  on  His  dangerous  way,  unfixing  men's 
regard  for  the  ancient  order  of  religion.  So  disdain  changed  to 
irritation,  and  that  deepened  into  hatred  against  One  who 
threatened  what  was  sacred  in  the  high  priest's  eyes.  And 
throughout  that  process,  Caiaphas  never  once  was  able  to  see 


396  CAIAPHAS 

Christ  justly;  he  saw  a  distorted  imagination  of  Him  through  the 
mist  of  his  own  ignorance  and  his  threatened  interests.  And 
when,  at  length,  Jesus  stood  before  him,  Caiaphas  was  unable  to 
see  Him  from  the  constraint  of  habit.  He  sought  not  for  the 
truth  about  his  Prisoner,  but  for  a  better  persuasion  that  he 
already  knew  the  truth. 

H  Carlyle  quotes  out  of  the  Koran  a  story  of  the  dwellers  by 
the  Dead  Sea,  to  whom  Moses  was  sent.  They  sniiled  and  sneered 
at  Moses  ;  saw  no  comeliness  in  Moses  ;  and  BO  he  withdrew.  But 
Nature  and  her  rigorous  veracities  did  not  withdraw.  When  next 
we  find  the  dwellers  by  the  Dead  Sea,  they,  according  to  the 
Koran,  are  all  changed  into  apes.  "  By  not  using  their  souls,  they 
lost  them."  "And  now,"  continues  Carlyle,  "  their  only  employ 
ment  is  to  sit  there  and  look  out  into  the  smokiost,  dreariest,  most 
undecipherable  sort  of  universe.  Only  once  in  seven  days  they  do 
remember  that  they  once  had  souls.  Hast  thou  never,  0  traveller  ! 
fallen  in  with  parties  of  this  tribe  ?  Me  thinks  they  have  grown 
somewhat  numerous  in  our  day."  The  old  Greek  proverb  was 
that  the  avenging  deities  are  shod  with  wool ;  but  the  wool  grows 
on  the  eyelids  that  refuse  the  light.  "Whom  the  gods  would 
destroy,  they  first  make  mad " ;  but  the  insanity  arises  from 
judicial  blindness.1 

But  when  we  in  our  viciousness  grow  hard, — 

0  misery  on't ! — the  wise  gods  seel  our  eyes  ; 

In  our  own  filth  drop  our  clear  judgments;  make  us 

Adore  our  errors ;  laugh  at's  while  we  strut 

To  our  confusion.2 

K  And  now  we  have  reached  the  Eighth  Circle  [of  the  Inferno] 
— the  circle  in  which  Dante  keeps  us  so  long.  He  calls  it 
Malebolge :  Evil  Ditches.  It  slopes  all  round  downwards  and  is 
divided  into  ten  ditches.  Around  each  ditch  there  runs  a  mole  or 
embankment,  and  bridges  of  stone  at  intervals  make  causeways, 
by  which  to  pass  across  the  ditches.  The  shape  of  Malebolge  is 
that  of  a  basin,  with  a  central  hollow,  and  the  embankments,  of 
course,  drop  in  level,  from  first  to  last,  so  that  the  bridges  and 
embankments  are  always  higher  in  each  upper  ditch  than  in  the 
lower  ditches,  on  the  side  nearest  to  the  outer  wall.  .  .  .  The 
Sixth  Ditch — of  the  Hypocrites — is,  to  me,  the  most  arresting. 
It  is  the  only  place,  besides  the  descent  to  the  Seventh  Circle, 
where  the  ravages  of  the  Crucifixion  earthquake  are  in  evidence. 

1  Joseph  Cook,  Boston  Monday  Lectures,  \.  35. 

:  Shakespeare,  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  111.  xi.  111. 


CAIAPHAS  397 

Weary  and  weeping,  these  sinners  tramp  their  round,  weighed 
down  with  monks'  hoods,  gilded  externally  but  fashioned  of  lead. 
At  one  point  in  each  circuit  of  their  external  course  they  march 
over  a  recumbent  naked  figure,  with  arms  outstretched,  impaled 
upon  the  ground  with  three  stakes,  reminding  us  of  the  three 
nails  of  the  Cross.  It  is  Caiaphas,  the  arch-hypocrite,  whose  sin 
we  all  know.  Annas,  his  father-in-law,  and  all  the  Sanhedrim  of 
his  time  are  near  him.  He  has  to  feel  through  all  eternity  the 
weight  of  all  the  hypocrisy  that  has  not  been  repented.  Vergil 
starts  at  sight  of  Caiaphas.  Is  it  because  he  realizes  here  a  deeper 
meaning  than  he  had  when  in  his  sEneid  he  prophesied  "  Unuin 
pro  multis  dabitur  caput "  (jEneid,  v.  815)  ? 1 

3.  Unscrupulousness. — Lastly,  Caiaphas  was  lost  because  of  his 
unscrupulousness.  We  are  told  sometimes  that  the  wise  can 
always  find  employment  in  remedying  the  mistakes  made  by  the 
good.  But  the  worst  mistakes  are  made  not  by  the  good,  but  by 
the  unscrupulous — by  those  who,  to  quote  a  homely  phrase,  are 
"  too  clever  by  half."  The  unscrupulous  man  is  a  disastrous 
partnei  in  any  enterprise ;  in  the  direction  of  national  or  religious 
policy  he  is  simply  ruinous.  History  shows  us  many  venerable 
institutions,  many  promising  movements,  undone  by  falling  into 
the  hands  of  a  clever  and  ambitious  knave.  Of  those  who  do  evil 
that  good  may  come,  the  Bible  says  shortly,  "  Their  condemnation 
is  just." 

The  one  thing  you  can  say  in  seeming  favour  of  Caiaphas  is 
that  he  was  clever.  Note  the  precise  force  of  that  word.  It  is 
set  forth  that  Caiaphas  was  clever  and  not  that  he  was  wise.  In 
this  we  hit  upon  a  valuable  distinction  the  world  needs  to  master. 
Men  and  women  are  meant  by  God  to  be  spiritual  ;  and  since  the 
spiritual  is  the  line  of  our  destiny,  therefore  goodness  is  the  only 
true  wisdom  ;  and  crafty  villainy  is  only  the  worse  for  its  clever 
ness.  Do  we  believe  this  ?  Which  would  trouble  us  more,  to  be 
called  a  sinner,  or  to  be  spoken  of  as  a  fool  ?  There  is  many 
a  man  who  is  rather  complimented  when  an  acquaintance  calls 
him  a  sinner,  but  who  flames  with  anger  when  alluded  to  as  a  fool. 
Think  what  that  means.  If  you  have  any  doubt  as  to  whether 
goodness  is  the  truest  wisdom,  consider  what  follows,  and  at  least 
learn  how  clever  villainy  reveals  its  true  quality  by  simply 
appearing. 

'  H.  R.  fiamxl,  ItoJtlf,  Owthes  Faunt,  arid  other  Lrcfur- s,  109. 


398  CAIAPHAS 

No  one  can  accuse  Caiaphas  of  weakness.  Ho  was  a  strong 
and  alert  man  of  inflexible  purpose,  able  to  command  men  and 
secure  results.  If  he  had  fought  on  the  right  side,  what  a  warrior 
he  would  have  made!  If  his  dominant  personality  had  been 
surrendered  to  Jesus,  what  a  Christian  leader  he  would  have 
become !  As  it  is,  he  stands  forth  typical  of  what  strength  and 
selfishness  will  make  of  a  man.  He  failed  to  understand  the 
meaning  of  events.  He  failed  to  understand  the  real  significance 
of  Jesus.  He  beat  his  strength  in  vain  against  the  walls  of  God's 
purpose.  Pride  and  selfishness  and  a  secular  mind  had  blinded 
his  eyes  and  hardened  his  heart.  When  he  died  the  new  religion 
was  girding  itself  to  conquer  the  world. 

^  Cleverness  is  something  very  petty.  It  is  the  quick  percep 
tion  of  single  points ;  it  does  not  imply  any  great  grasp ;  rather  it 
excludes  it.  You  may  speak  of  a  clever  boy,  because,  having  his 
faculties  still  undeveloped,  he  sees  single  things  quickly  and 
clearly.  To  speak  of  a  clever  man  or  woman  would  be  a  dispar 
aging  term.  It  would  imply  want  of  grasp  or  compass.  But  this 
cleverness  is  a  great  temptation  to  vanity.  The  single  remarks 
strike  persons,  and  they  admire  them.  Some  smile  shows  it ;  and 
the  person  goes  his  way  and  is  self-satisfied  and  his  vanity  is 
nourished.  And  these  petty  tributes  may  be  the  more  numerous, 
because  they  are  petty. 

Now  just  watch  yourself  for  the  little  occasions  in  which  you 
think  yourself  cleverer  than  another.  Perhaps  you  won't  call  it 
clever,  but  something  more  solid;  a  true  perception  of  things. 
Set  yourself  against  any  supposed  superiority  to  any  one.  One 
grain  of  love  is  better  than  a  hundredweight  of  intellect.  And 
after  all,  that  blasted  spirit,  Satan,  has  more  intellect  than  the 
whole  human  race.1 

^[  The  Church  needs  leaders.  She  needs  men  of  wise  counsel 
and  prompt  energy  and  determining  speech.  She  needs  men  who 
will  patiently  and  untiringly  serve  her  tables.  But  the  office 
they  fill  is  full  of  giddy  and  dazing  temptations.  No  class  of  men 
need  more  the  continual  reconsecration  of  aim  and  the  fresh 
baptism  of  the  Spirit.  But  these  are  gained  only  as  men  keep 
themselves  in  the  faith  and  love  of  Jesus.  The  man  to  whom 
Christ  is  a  name,  or  only  an  instrument  of  service,  is  a  danger  to 
the  Church.  But  the  man  to  whom  He  is  Lord,  in  whose  heart 
a  deep  devotion  maintains  its  unquenched  fire,  may  make 
mistakes,  may  seem  to  endanger  sacred  interests,  but  his  blunder- 

1  Spiritual  Letters  of  Edwwrd  Bouverie  Pusr.y,  104. 


CAIAPHAS  399 

ing  will  be  wiser  than  the  cold  prudence  of  the  ecclesiastic.  The 
great  names  in  the  Church  of  God,  from  Moses  and  Samuel  to 
Wesley  and  Chalmers,  have  been  men  who  lived  in  such  adoring 
love  to  Christ  that  they  dared  to  break  with  the  old  order  and 
lead  men  in  new  departures  owned  and  blessed  of  God.  Ah, 
had  Caiaphas  only  known  his  Lord,  what  a  wonderful  page  of 
grace  would  have  been  written  in  this  gospel :  "  And  they  that 
laid  hands  on  Jesus  led  him  away  to  Caiaphas.  And  when 
Caiaphas  looked  upon  Him,  and  saw  Him  meek  and  lowly,  he  was 
deeply  moved.  And  Jesus  turned  and  looked  upon  Caiaphas,  and 
in  that  hour  his  heart  smote  him,  and  his  eyes  were  cleansed,  and 
he  saw  the  Son  of  God.  And  he  came  down  from  his  high  priest's 
seat,  and  took  off  the  ephod  he  wore,  and  put  it  upon  Jesus,  and, 
being  high  priest  that  same  year,  he  prophesied :  '  Behold  the 
Lamb  of  God  which  taketh  away  the  sins  of  the  world.  Behold 
the  King  of  Israel.'  And  he  kneeled  down  before  Him  and 
said :  '  Thou  art  an  High  Priest  for  ever,  after  the  order  of 
Melchizedek ! ' '  Alas,  there  is  no  such  scripture.  Christ  was 
only  the  stone  of  stumbling,  and  the  rock  of  offence  to  him,  on 
which  he  fell  to  be  broken  for  ever.1 

1  W.  M.  Clow,  The  D»y  of  the  Crost,  2». 


PILATE 


MARY-SIMON — 26 


LITERATURE. 

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Brodrick,  M.,  The  Trial  and  Crucifixion  of  Jesus  Christ  of  Nazareth  (1908), 

102. 

Brooke,  S.  A.,  Sermons,  ii.  (1875)  294. 
Burn,  A.  E.,  The  Crown  of  Thorns  (1911),  27. 
Bush,  J.,  Modern  Thoughts  on  Ancient  Stories,  156. 
Buss,  S.,  Roman  Law  and  History  in  the  New  Testament  (1901),  174. 
Cameron,  A.  B.,  From  the  Garden  to  the  Cross  (1896),  132,  181. 
Candlish,  R.  S.,  Scripture  Characters  (1872),  297,  320,  339. 
Carpenter,  W.  B.,  The  Son  of  Man  among  the  Sons  of  Men  (1893),  35. 
Clow,  W.  M.,  The  Day  of  the  Cross  (1909),  27. 
Doney,  C.  G.,  The  Throne-Room  of  the  Soul  (1907),  83. 
English,  E.,  Sermons  and  Homilies  (1913),  95. 
Farrar,  F.  W.,  The  Life  of  Lives  (1900),  494. 
Hough,  L.  H.,  The  Men  of  the  Gospels  (1913),  71. 
Innes,  A.  T.,  The  Trial  of  Jesus  Christ  (1899),  61. 
Lightfoot,  J.  B.,  Sermons  Preached  in  St.  PauPs  CatJiedral  (1891),  91. 
Little,  W.  J.  K.,  Sunlight  and  Shadow  (1892),  242. 
Lucas,  B.,  Conversations  with  Christ  (1905),  246. 
Moulton,  J.  H.,  Visions  of  Sin  (1891),  187. 
Mursell,  A.,  Hush  and  Hurry  (1902),  18,  29. 
Peabody,  F.  G.,  Mornings  in  the  College  Chapel,  ii.  (1908)  185. 

„  „       Sunday  Evenings  in  the  College  Chapel  (1911),  197. 

Robertson,  F.  W.,  Sermons,  i.  (1875)  292. 
Rosadi,  G.,  The  Trial  of  Jesus  (1905),  219. 
Sewell,  W.,  The  Character  of  Pilate  (1850). 
Simcox,  W.  H.,  The  Cessation  of  Prophecy  (1891),  287. 
Smith,  H.  A.,  in  A  Book  of  Lay  Sermons  (1905),  3. 
Stalker,  J.,  The  Trial  and  Death  of  Jesus  Christ  (1894),  43. 
Stevenson,  J.  G.,  The  Judges  of  Jesus  (1909),  153. 
Trench,  R.  C.,  Sermons  New  and  Old  (1886),  134. 
Vaughan,  B.,  Society,  Sin  and  the  Saviour  (1908),  89. 
Watson,  J.,  The  Life  of  the  Master  (1902),  373. 

Whyte,  A.,  Bible  Characters  :  Joseph  and  Mary  to  James  (1900),  121 
Dictionary  of  the  Bible,  iii.  (1909)  875  (G.  T.  Purves). 
Dictionary  of  Christ  and  the  Gospels,  ii.  (1908)  363  (A.  Souter). 
Preacher'*  Magazine,  xxiv.  (1913)  295  (E.  S.  Waterhouse). 


PILATE. 

What  I  have  written,   I  have  written.     John  xix.  22. 

1.  WE  do  not  commonly  remember,  it  costs  us  an  effort  to  re 
member,  how  very  largely  we  are  indebted  to  the  Fourth  Gospel 
for  our  conceptions  of  the  chief  personages  who  bear  a  part  in  the 
Evangelical  history,  when  these  conceptions  are  most  distinct.  If 
we  analyze  the  source  of  our  information,  we  find  again  and  again 
that,  while  something  is  told  us  about  a  particular  person  in  the 
other  Gospels,  yet  it  is  St.  John  who  gives  those  touches  to  the 
portrait  which  make  him  stand  out  with  his  own  individuality  as 
a  real,  living,  speaking  man.  The  other  Evangelists  will  record 
a  name  or  perhaps  an  incident.  St.  John  will  add  one  or  two 
sayings,  and  the  whole  person  is  instinct  with  life.  The  character 
Hashes  out  in  half  a  dozen  words.  Out  of  the  abundance  of  the 
heart  the  mouth  speaketh.  So  it  is  with  Thomas,  with  Philip, 
with  Martha  and  Mary,  with  several  others  who  might  be  named. 

Pilate  furnishes  a  remarkable  illustration  of  this  feature  in 
the  Fourth  Gospel.  Pilate  is  the  chief  agent  in  the  crowning  scene 
in  the  Evangelical  history.  He  is  necessarily  a  prominent  figure 
in  all  the  four  narratives  of  this  crisis.  In  the  first  three  Gospels 
we  learn  much  about  him ;  we  find  him  there,  as  we  find  him  in 
St.  John,  at  cross  purposes  with  the  Jews;  he  is  represented 
there,  not  less  than  by  St.  John,  as  giving  an  unwilling  consent  to 
the  judicial  murder  of  Jesus.  His  Roman  sense  of  justice  is  too 
strong  to  allow  him  to  yield  without  an  effort;  his  personal 
courage  is  too  weak  to  persevere  in  the  struggle  when  the  con 
sequences  threaten  to  become  inconvenient.  He  is  timid,  politic, 
time-serving,  as  represented  by  all  alike ;  he  has  just  enough 
conscience  to  wish  to  shake  off  the  responsibility,  but  far  too  little 
conscience  to  shrink  from  committing  a  sin. 

But  in  St.  John's  narrative  we  pieroe  far  below  the  surface. 
Here  Pilate  is  revealed  to  us  as  the  wircastic,  cynical  worldling, 


4o4  PILATE 

who  doubts  everything,  distrusts  everything,  despises  everything. 
He  has  an  intense  scorn  for  the  Jews,  and  yet  he  has  a  craven  dread 
of  them.  He  has  a  certain  professional  regard  for  justice,  and  yet 
he  has  no  real  belief  in  truth  or  honour.  Throughout  he  mani 
fests  a  malicious  irony  in  his  conduct  at  this  crisis.  There  is 
a  lofty  scorn  in  his  answer,  when  he  repudiates  any  sympathy 
with  the  accusers,  "  Am  I  a  Jew  ?  "  There  is  a  sarcastic  pity  in 
the  question  which  he  addresses  to  the  Prisoner  before  him : 
"  Art  thou  the  King  of  the  Jews  ? "  "  Art  thou  then  a  King, 
thou  poor,  weak,  helpless  fanatic,  whom  with  a  single  word 
I  could  doom  to  death  ? "  He  is  half-bewildered,  half-diverted, 
with  the  incongruity  of  this  claim.  And  yet  there  is  a  certain 
propriety  that  a  wild  enthusiast  should  assert  his  sovereignty  over 
a  nation  of  bigots.  So  he  sarcastically  adopts  the  title :  "  Will  ye 
that  I  release  unto  you  the  King  of  the  Jews?"  Even  when  at 
length  he  is  obliged  to  yield  to  the  popular  clamour,  he  will  at 
least  have  his  revenge  by  a  studied  contempt.  "  Behold  your 
King."  "Shall  I  crucify  your  King?"  And  to  the  very  last 
moment  he  indulges  his  cynical  scorn.  The  title  on  the  cross  was 
indeed  unconsciously  a  proclamation  of  a  Divine  truth,  but  in  its 
immediate  purpose  and  intent  it  was  the  mere  gratification  of 
Pilate's  sarcastic  humour.  "  Jesus  of  Nazareth  (could  any  good 
thing  come  out  of  Nazareth  ?),  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  the  King  of  the 
Jews ! "  He  has  sacrificed  his  honour  to  them ;  but  he  will  not 
sacrifice  his  contempt :  "  What  I  have  written,  I  have  written." 

T[  Like  all  who  yield  what  they  know  they  should  not  give  up, 
Pilate  tried  to  cover  his  weakness  by  obstinacy.  If  he  had  asserted 
himself  a  little  sooner,  he  would  have  escaped  his  bad  pre 
eminence.  He  did  not  know  what  he  had  written,  in  imperishable 
characters,  in  the  record  of  his  deeds ;  and,  while  he  thought 
himself  announcing  with  fitting  dignity  his  determination,  he  was 
declaring  that  the  black  lines  he  had  traced  would  last  for  ever. 
Strange  that  the  awful  truth  of  the  ineffaceableness  of  our  deeds 
should  come  from  his  lips !  Blessed  we  if  we  have  learned  that 
He  whom  Pilate  slew  will  blot  out  our  sins  from  His  book.1 

2.  We  know  nothing  of  Pilate  apart  from  his  administration 
of  Judaea.  His  family  name  Pontius  leaves  open  the  possibility 
that  he  was  descended  from  the  brave  Samnite  general  Gaius 

1  A.  Maclaren. 


PILATE  405 

Pontius,  the  hero  of  the  Candine  Forks.  Philo  quotes  from 
Agrippa  i.  a  comprehensive  account  of  the  man :  "  Inflexibly 
obstinate  by  nature,  he  was  as  reckless  as  he  was  implacable." 
The  same  witness  describes  "  his  openness  to  bribes,  his  acts  of 
insolence,  his  robberies,  his  outrages,  his  tyrannies,  his  unbroken 
series  of  murders  without  form  of  trial,  his  insatiable  and 
devastating  savagery." 

His  acts  abundantly  bear  out  this  description.  Incapable 
himself  of  understanding  why  any  one  should  care  "  what  is 
truth,"  he  set  himself  from  the  first  to  trample  upon  the  religious 
prejudices  which  he  so  heartily  despised.  When  he  entered  on 
his  province,  he  sent  his  men  into  Jerusalem  by  night  with  flags 
showing  the  figure  of  the  Emperor.  For  six  days  the  Jews 
fruitlessly  protested  and  entreated,  and  Pilate  answered  by 
preparing  a  general  massacre  at  Csesarea,  whither  the  eager  people 
had  hastened ;  he  yielded  only  when  he  had  satisfied  his  insolence 
by  securing  the  people's  submission.  He  impounded  the  Temple 
treasures  to  build  an  aqueduct,  and  overawed  the  people  by 
scattering  among  them  plain-clothes  men  secretly  armed  with 
clubs.  St.  Luke  tells  us  of  GaliUean  pilgrims,  otherwise  unknown, 
whose  blood  Pilate  mingled  with  the  sacrifices  they  came  to  offer. 

H  It  will,  perhaps,  help  us  to  realize  the  position  of  Pilate  if 
we  compare  it  with  that  of  a  French  general  despatched  from  the 
idle  and  fashionable  life  of  the  boulevards  to  administer  the 
government  of  Algiers.  There  would  be  a  like  contemptuous 
estimate  of  the  race  to  be  kept  in  subjection  by  military  force;  a 
lofty  sense  of  superiority  which  would  lead  its  possessor  to  regard 
the  exercise  of  cruelty  towards  them  as  something  quite  different 
in  its  nature  from  cruelty  towards  his  fellow-countrymen.  This 
would  be  readily  called  forth  under  the  irritation  of  tmeutes  or 
petty  revolts,  seen  to  be  foolishly  weak,  yet  quite  sufficient  to 
cause  annoyance.  Just  as  St.  Arnaud,  the  scandalous  and 
favourite  marshal  of  Napoleon  the  little,  exasi>erated  the  Kabyles 
of  the  Atlas  by  atrocious  cruelties,  which  were  rewarded  with 
disgraceful  decorations,  so  Pilate  inaugurated  his  administration 
by  first  outraging  the  religious  sensibilities  of  those  under  his 
authority,  and  then  treacherously  murdering  those  who  protested 
againnt  his  insults.1 

TI  In    his     volume     of     essays    entitled     Liberty,    Equality, 
Fraternity,  Fit/james  [who  held  that,  in  regard  to  religions,  the 
1  W.  E.  Skinner,  A  Port  of  Lay  SermMU,  4. 


406  PILATE 

State  cannot  be  an  impartial  bystander,  and  who  disputed  John 
Stuart  Mill's  view  on  the  subject]  discusses  at  some  length  the 
case  of  Pontius  Pilate,  to  which  I  may  notice  he  had  often  applied 
parallels  from  Earn  Singh  and  other  Indian  experiences.  Pontius 
Pilate  was  in  a  position  analogous  to  that  of  the  governor  of  a 
British  province.  He  decides  that  if  Pilate  had  acted  upon  Mill's 
principles  he  would  have  risked  "  setting  the  whole  province  in  a 
blaze."  He  condemns  the  Koman  persecutors  as  "clumsy  and 
brutal  " ;  but  thinks  that  they  might  have  succeeded  "  in  the  same 
miserable  sense  in  which  the  Spanish  Inquisition  succeeded,"  had 
they  been  more  systematic,  and  then  would  at  least  not  have  been 
self-stultified.  Had  the  Koman  Government  seen  the  importance 
of  the  question,  the  strife,  if  inevitable,  might  have  been  noble. 
It  would  have  been  a  case  of  "  generous  opponents  each  working 
his  way  to  the  truth  from  opposite  sides,"  not  the  case  of  a 
"  touching  though  slightly  hysterical  victim,  mauled  from  time  to 
time  by  a  sleepy  tyrant  in  his  intervals  of  fury." l 

3.  This  man,  then,  was  the  governor,  that  is,  procurator,  of 
Judsea  to  whom  the  Jewish  council  delivered  Jesus.  He  had 
already  been  condemned  to  death,  and  gladly  would  the  Jewish 
authorities  have  carried  it  out  in  the  Jewish  fashion — by  stoning. 
But  it  was  not  in  their  power:  their  Roman  masters,  while 
conceding  to  the  native  courts  the  power  of  trying  and  punishing 
minor  offences,  reserved  to  themselves  the  prerogative  of  life  and 
death ;  and  a  case  in  which  a  capital  sentence  had  been  passed  in 
a  Jewish  court  had  to  go  before  the  representative  of  Rome  in  the 
country,  who  tried  it  over  again,  and  might  either  confirm  or 
reverse  the  sentence. 

What  a  spectacle  was  that !  The  heads  of  the  Jewish  nation 
leading  their  own  Messiah  in  chains  to  deliver  Him  up  to  a 
Gentile  governor,  with  the  petition  that  He  should  be  put  to 
death!  Shades  of  the  heroes  and  the  prophets  who  loved  this 
nation  and  boasted  of  it  and  foretold  its  glorious  fate,  the  hour  of 
destiny  has  come,  and  this  is  the  result ! 

H  Luther,  strange  to  say,  was  inclined  almost  to  apologize  for 
Pilate,  whom  he  describes  in  his  Table  Talk  as  "a  kindly  man 
of  the  world,"  that  "scourged  Christ  from  compassion,  that  he 
might  thereby  quiet  the  insatiable  rage  and  fury  of  the  Jews." 
"  Pilate,"  he  adds,  "  is  a  better  man  than  any  of  the  princes  of  the 
empire  (at  present)  who  are  not  Evangelical.  He  kept  firmly  to 

1  Leslie  Stephen,  Thf  Life  of  Sir  James  Filzjames  Stepfien,  326. 


PILATE  407 

the  Roman  rights  and  laws,  affirming  that  he  could  not  suffer  an 
innocent  man  to  be  put  to  death,  his  cause  unheard,  convicted  of 
no  one  evil  deed.  Therefore  he  tried  all  honourable  methods  to 
set  Christ  free.  But  when  they  spoke  to  him  of  the  displeasure 
of  Caesar,  he  was  carried  away,  and  let  the  Roman  laws  and  rights 
go.  For  he  thought,  '  It  is  only  one  man,  poor,  and,  moreover, 
despised.  No  one  will  take  the  case  up.  What  harm  can  his 
death  do  me  ?  It  is  better  that  one  should  die  than  that  the 
whole  nation  should  be  set  against  me.' 

11  When  Pilate  asked  Christ, '  Art  thou  the  King  of  the  Jews  ? ' 
'  Yes,'  He  said, '  I  am ;  but  not  such  a  king  as  Caesar,  else  would 
My  servants  and  soldiers  fight  for  Me  to  set  Me  free.  But  I  am 
a  King  sent  to  preach  the  Glad  Tidings,  that  I  might  bear  witness 
to  the  Truth.'  '  Oh,'  said  Pilate,  '  if  thou  art  a  king  of  that  kind, 
and  hast  such  a  kingdom  as  that,  consisting  of  the  Word  and 
the  Truth,  thou  wilt  do  no  harm  to  my  kingdom.'  And  Pilate 
doubtless  thought,  '  Jesus  is  a  good,  simple,  harmless  man,  who  is 
talking  about  a  kingdom  no  one  knows  anything  about.  Probably 
he  comes  out  of  some  forest,  or  out-of-the-way  region,  and  is  a 
simple  creature  who  knows  nothing  of  the  world  or  its  govern 
ment.'"1 

4.  It  is  not  our  purpose  to  follow  the  trial  of  Jesus  by  Pilate 
through  all  its  tortuous  and  humiliating  scenes.  Our  purpose  is 
to  inquire  into  Pilate's  character.  It  is  from  these  scenes  that  we 
learn  what  manner  of  man  he  was,  but  they  are  familiar  to  us, 
and  we  shall  proceed  at  once  to  gather  from  them  the  features 
of  this  man's  character  which  led  him  to  play  his  great  part 
so  ignobly.  We  shall  find  that  his  failure  was  due  to  unbelief, 
worldliness,  and  weakness. 

I. 

UNBELIEF. 

Pilate  first  hears  what  the  people  have  to  say — then  asks  the 
opinion  of  the  priests — then  comes  back  to  Jesus — goes  again  to 
the  priests  and  people — lends  his  ear — listens  to  the  ferocity  on 
the  one  hand,  and  feels  the  beauty  on  the  other,  balancing 
between  them ;  and  then  he  becomes  bewildered,  as  a  man  of  the 
world  is  apt  to  do  who  has  had  no  groundwork  of  religious 

1  Luther,  Table  Talk,  iv.  172,  398. 


4c8  PILATE 

education,  and  hears  superficial  discussions  on  religious  matters, 
and  superficial  charges,  and  superficial  slanders,  till  he  knows 
not  what  to  think.  What  could  come  out  of  such  procedure  ? 
Nothing  but  that  cheerlessness  of  soul  to  which  certainty  respect 
ing  anything  and  everything  here  on  earth  seems  unattainable. 
This  is  the  exact  mental  state  which  we  call  scepticism. 

Out  of  that  mood,  when  he  heard  the  enthusiast  before  him 
speak  of  a  Kingdom  of  the  Truth,  there  broke  a  sad,  bitter, 
sarcastic  sigh,  "  What  is  truth  ? "  Who  knows  anything  about 
it  ?  Another  discoverer  of  the  undiscoverable !  "  Jesting  Pilate  ! " 
says  Bacon ;  with  Pilate  the  matter  was  beyond  a  jest.  It  was 
not  a  question  put  for  the  sake  of  information.  It  was  not  put 
for  the  sake  of  ridicule,  for  he  went  out  to  say,  "  I  find  no  fault 
in  him."  Sarcasm  there  was  perhaps,  but  it  was  that  mournful 
bitter  sarcasm  which  hides  inward  unrest  in  sneering  words,  that 
sad  irony  whose  very  laugh  rings  of  inward  wretchedness. 

Long  ago  he  had  shared  in  the  speculation  of  the  time;  no 
educated  man  could  escape  it.  Sect  after  sect  had  claimed  to  tell 
the  truth,  and  men  had  found  nothing  to  satisfy  them,  no  ground 
on  which  to  rest,  till  at  last,  in  weary  carelessness,  Pilate,  like 
hundreds,  had  hushed  the  cry  of  his  heart  for  truth  and  turned  to 
worldly  life,  hearing  only,  with  a  smile  of  scorn,  of  the  efforts  still 
made  by  enthusiasts  to  find  the  undiscoverable.  When,  behold, 
storming  in  upon  his  soul  from  the  lips  of  a  wretched  Jew  over 
whom  he  had  the  power  of  life  and  death,  in  a  common  room, 
came  the  old  haunting  question  of  his  youth — truth,  truth,  what 
is  it  ?  For  a  moment  the  outward  world  faded  into  its  real 
unreality ;  for  a  moment  the  sleeping  thirst  was  stirred ;  for  a 
moment  he  looked  back  and  recalled  the  vain  efforts  of  years,  the 
hopes  worn  out  by  length  of  time,  the  surrender  of  the  wearisome 
pursuit — and  "  What  is  truth  ? "  broke  from  his  lips.  It  came  on 
him  with  a  shock  of  strange  surprise.  "  What  is  this,"  he  might 
have  said,  "  that  wakes  within  me  the  long-forgotten  thrill,  this 
breath  of  youthful  aspiration  —  truth,  truth,  and  its  deceiving 
beauty — why  eat  my  heart  again  over  a  vain  quest ;  why  go  back 
to  kindle  an  exhausted  flame  ?  "  And,  as  Bacon  says,  and  this  time 
truly,  he  did  not  wait  for  a  reply. 

So  unchanged  is  human  nature  that  we  seem  to  be  reading 
the  history  of  many  lives  in  our  own  day.  Our  youth  has  been 


PILATE  409 

rife  with  speculation  ;  the  great  spiritual  questions  of  Immortality, 
Necessity,  Free  Will,  Evil  and  its  origin,  our  relation  to  a  God,  or 
a  Fate,  or  a  Chance,  have  tossed  us  to  and  fro  for  years.  At 
school,  at  home,  at  college,  on  entering  manhood  and  womanhood, 
the  great  questioning  has  moved  our  soul.  And  at  first  we  took 
our  pleasure  therein.  We  loved  the  lonely  hours  in  the  mist  in 
which  we  saw  strange  shapes  of  good,  mysterious  folding  and 
unfolding  of  light  and  gloom  which  seemed  to  tell  truths  as 
wonderful  as  beautiful.  But  as  each  question  seemed  to  receive 
its  answer  another  question  started  up,  and  what  seemed  to 
answer  it  threw  doubt  upon  the  previous  answer ;  till  at  last  the 
mist  sank  down,  and  our  weary  eyes  saw  no  more  changes,  no 
more  visions  there.  It  was  hard  to  breathe  in  that  atmosphere, 
and  we  were  chilled  to  the  bone  with  disappointment.  So  we 
passed  out  of  it  into  what  we  called  practical  life,  saying  to  all 
these  questions  with  the  poet,  "  I  know  not ;  let  me  do  my  duty. 
The  past  has  been  failure ;  let  me  use  the  present."  We  turned 
to  professional,  literary,  or  mercantile  life,  shut  up  that  misty 
chamber,  drowned  the  key,  deeper  than  ever  plummet  sounded, 
and  said  to  ourselves,  "  There  may  be  an  answer  to  these  matters, 
but  I  can  never  find  it.  I  will  agree  to  postpone  them  ;  let  others 
take  them  and  judge  them  according  to  their  law,  I  whistle  them 
down  the  wind." 

]J  Jesting  Pilate  had  not  the  smallest  chance  to  ascertain  what 
was  Truth.  He  could  not  have  known  it,  had  a  god  shown  it  to 
him.  Thick  serene  opacity,  thicker  than  amaurosis,  veiled  those 
smiling  eyes  of  his  to  Truth ;  the  inner  retina  of  them  was  gone 
paralytic,  dead.  He  looked  at  Truth ;  and  discerned  her  not, 
there  where  she  stood.1 

II. 

WORLDLINKSS. 

Pilate  had  been  a  public  man.  He  knew  life ;  he  had  mixed 
much  with  the  world's  business  and  the  world's  politics:  had 
come  across  a  multiplicity  of  opinions,  and  gained  a  smattering 
of  them  all.  He  knew  how  many  philosophies  and  religions 
pretended  to  an  exclusive  possession  of  Truth ;  and  how  the 

1  Carlyle,  I\Lst  and  Present,  bk.  i.  cliap.  ii. 


PILATE 

pretensions  of  each  were  overthrown  by  another.  And  his  in 
credulity  was  but  a  specimen  of  the  scepticism  fashionable  in  his 
day — the  scepticism  of  a  polished  educated  Roman,  a  sagacious 
man  of  the  world,  too  much  behind  the  scenes  of  public  life 
to  trust  professions  of  goodness  or  disinterestedness,  or  to  believe 
in  enthusiasm  and  a  sublime  life.  And  his  merciful  language, 
and  his  desire  to  save  Jesus,  was  precisely  the  liberalism  current 
in  our  day  as  in  his — an  utter  disbelief  in  the  truths  of  a  world 
unseen,  but  at  the  same  time  an  easy,  careless  toleration,  a  half- 
benevolent,  half-indolent  unwillingness  to  molest  the  poor  dreamers 
who  chose  to  believe  in  such  superstitions. 

H  And  such  is  Pilate  in  our  modern  life — the  superior  person, 
restrained  and  worldly-wise,  emancipated  from  vulgar  enthusiasms, 
not  entangled  in  other  people's  troubles,  unaffected  by  the  majesty 
of  truth  even  when  it  stands  straight  before  his  face.  And  over 
against  this  jaunty  neutrality  stands,  to-day,  as  it  stood  in  this 
Passion  Week  in  Jerusalem,  the  spirit  of  Jesus  Christ,  the  erect 
and  self-respecting  faith  of  man  in  communion  with  the  Eternal. 
Over  against  the  trimmer  in  political  life  stands  the  loyal  worker 
for  political  reform ;  over  against  the  literary  critic  with  his  fine 
contempt  stands  the  creative  scholar  with  his  unstained  ideals 
and  aims.  Before  the  self-indulgent  woman  of  the  conventional 
world,  smiling  at  the  folly  of  serious  views,  stands  the  woman 
who  has  found  a  great  new  joy  in  the  service  of  less  favoured  lives. 

I  see  these  types  of  the  Christian  life  coming  up  one  by  one 
to-day  before  Pilate's  judgment-seat.  I  see  the  patient  student 
stand  before  the  scoffing  critic;  I  see  the  persistent  reformer 
smiled  at  by  the  stay-at-home ;  I  see  the  self-forgetting  servant 
of  the  common  good  fail,  and  the  self-indulgent  time-server 
succeed ;  I  see  the  life  that  tries  to  be  faithful  bearing  heavy 
burdens,  and  the  life  that  is  content  to  be  worldly  gain  its  end. 
It  is  all  as  if  Jesus  Christ  passed  once  more  from  Pilate's 
judgment-hall  to  the  agony  of  Gethsemane,  while  Pilate  withdrew 
once  more  behind  his  curtains  to  the  composure  of  his  self- 
satisfied  life ;  as  if  the  Christian  life  had  still  to  defend  itself, 
and  the  neutral  had  but  to  judge  and  go ;  as  if  right  were  for  ever 
on  the  scaffold  and  wrong  for  ever  on  the  throne.  I  see  the 
intellectual  dilettantism  of  the  present  day,  and  its  moral  levity, 
and  its  religious  indifferentism,  sitting  on  the  scorner's  judgment- 
seat,  and  I  hear  their  light-hearted  fling  of,  "  What  is  Truth  ? "  as 
they  go  their  way  of  self-satisfied  success.  And  then  I  wait ;  and 
I  see  these  Pilates  of  the  present  time,  like  him  who  thought  he 


PILATE  411 

gat  in  judgment  on  the  Christ,  have  their  little  day  of  imaginary 
importance,  and  then  simply  shrivel  up  into  specks  in  the  world's 
history ;  remembered  only  because  they  happened  one  day  to 
stand  near  the  life  which  they  jauntily  condemned.  And  I  see 
the  faithful  servants  of  the  truth,  as  they  go  their  way  with  their 
crosses  upon  their  shoulders,  finishing  the  work  that  is  given  them 
to  do ;  and  they  have  the  confident  step  of  those  whose  passion  is 
a  victory,  whose  cross  is  a  crown,  and  whose  place  is  not  among 
the  Caesars  but  among  the  saviours,  not  with  the  courtiers  of 
Pilate  but  with  the  disciples  of  Christ.1 

U  To  an  old  pupil  at  Oxford,  Dr.  Arnold  wrote  from  Rugby  in 
the  spring  of  1835,  lamenting  the  spread  of  a  spirit  of  indifference 
and  dilettantism.  "  I  suppose,"  he  said,  "  that  Pococuranteism 
(excuse  the  word)  is  much  the  order  of  the  day  amongst  young 
men.  I  observe  symptoms  of  it  here,  and  am  always  dreading  its 
ascendancy,  though  we  have  some  who  struggle  nobly  against  it. 
I  believe  that  '  Nil  admirari '  in  this  sense  is  the  Devil's  favourite 
text ;  and  he  could  not  choose  a  better  to  introduce  his  pupils  into 
the  more  esoteric  parts  of  his  doctrine.  And  therefore  I  have 
always  looked  upon  a  man  infected  with  this  disorder  as  on  one 
who  has  lost  the  finest  part  of  his  nature,  and  his  best  protection 
against  every  thing  low  and  foolish."* 

TI  Dilettantism  he  abhorred.  He  earnestly  warned  the 
students  attending  the  local  schools  of  art  against  it,  exhorting 
them  to  painstaking  work  and  faithful,  persistent  endeavours 
after  excellence.  "  There  is  not  the  slightest  hope,"  he  told  them, 
"  for  the  dabbler  or  the  dilettante.  Of  all  the  contemptible 
creatures  to  be  found  in  this  earth  it  contains  none  more  con 
temptible  than  a  dabbler  or  dilettante  in  art,  science,  or  social 
philosophy."  He  pointed  to  Michael  Angelo,  with  his  beetle 
brows,  large,  square,  prominent  cheekbones,  straight-cut,  hard- 
pressed  mouth,  and  bruised  nose,  all  proclaiming,  "  There  is  no 
dilettantism  here." 8 

III. 

WEAKNESS. 

1.  Compelled  to  take  the  leading  part  in  a  transaction  where 
high  moral  qualities  were  supremely  demanded,  Pilate  proved 

1  F.  G.  Peabody,  Sunday  Evenings  in  the.  College  Chajxl,  213. 

1  A.  P.  Stanley,  Life  and  Vorrrspvndencf  of  Thomas  Arnold,  i.  419. 

1  A.  H.  Bruce,  The  Life  of  William  Denny,  2G&. 


4i2  PILATE 

himself  to  be  without  them,  and  made  a  great  crime  possible  by 
his  feebleness  of  character.  This  is  quite  consistent  with  his 
bravado  and  recklessness  on  other  occasions. 

He  seems  to  have  been  a  man  with  some  refinement,  reflective, 
almost  philosophical,  possessing  the  literary  habit,  and  with  it,  as 
so  often  happens,  an  impatience  of  the  vulgar  matters  which 
excite  the  crowd,  with  a  certain  indolence  which  nevertheless  did 
not  kill  his  ambition  or  dull  his  interest  in  philosophical  questions, 
with  more  love  of  speculation  than  desire  for  decision;  weak 
morally,  timid  politically,  and  yet  driven  by  weakness  into  acts 
which  looked  like  relentless  cruelty ;  for  the  worst  cruelties  of  the 
world  are  the  product  of  weakness  and  fear.  He  was  one  of  those 
men  whom  we  wonder  at  and  pity,  for  they  are  weak  men  placed 
in  circumstances  which  need  vigour  and  calmness.  Such  are  the 
men  who,  if  placed  in  quiet  and  peaceful  times,  might  ripen  into 
philosophical  mildness  and  dilettante  amiability,  tinged  with  a 
pleasant  and  not  very  serious  cynicism ;  but  who,  in  stormy  and 
troublous  days,  being  thrust  into  positions  of  high  trust  and 
imperative  responsibility,  hesitate,  evade,  vacillate,  resolve  and  un- 
resolve,  and  end  by  being  the  perpetrators  of  horrors  which  revolt 
the  world,  and  which  would  have  been  impossible  to  sterner  and 
stronger  natures. 

K  I  don't  quite  understand  you  about  Pilate.  Surely  his 
strength,  at  any  rate,  was  not  "  to  sit  still."  He  sat  still  and 
washed  his  hands,  and  it  was  all  wrong.  If  he  had  "put  a 
decisive  act  between  himself  and  temptation,"  he  would  have 
seized  his  chance.  What  he  did  was  the  weakest  thing  he  could 
do,  not  the  strongest.  It  is  only  when  sitting  still  is  the  hardest, 
most  difficult,  course  that  there  is  strength  in  it.  Again  I 
sympathize.  I  have  so  often  made  my  own  temptations  much 
harder  in  the  end,  because  I  did  not  pluck  up  courage  enough  to 
do  the  decisive  act,  when  I  knew  it  ought  to  be  done.  We  are 
not  taught  that  we  should  let  the  temptation  get  as  bad  as  possible 
before  we  try  to  do  anything ;  else  why  should  we  pray, "  Lead  us 
not  into  temptation  "  ? 1 

U  One  of  the  greatest  of  English  novelists  has  drawn  for  us, 
in  a  manner  wonderfully  true  to  human  nature,  the  character  of 
one  who  reached  the  depths  of  depravity  simply  through  the 
habit  of  always  yielding  to  selfish  interest  in  little  things.  Such 
is  Tito  Melema  in  George  Eliot's  Eomola.  In  describing  one  of 

1  GatJmred  Leaves  from  Ike  Prose  of  Mary  E.  Coleridge,  275. 


PILATE  413 

Melema's  base  actions,  the  writer  sets  down  a  sentence  which 
every  young  man  and  woman  would  do  well  to  lay  to  heart. 
"  Tito,"  she  says,  "  now  experienced  that  inexorable  law  of  human 
souls,  that  we  prepare  ourselves  for  sudden  deeds  by  the  reiterated 
choice  of  good  or  evil  which  gradually  determines  character." 
Pilate  in  real  life  points  the  same  moral  as  Tito  Melema  in  fiction, 
and  it  is  one  that  is  terribly  serious  because  of  the  subtlety  and 
frequency  of  the  temptation.  The  habit  of  wrongdoing  in  little 
things  is  the  certain  preparation  for  a  fatal  fall  in  a  great  time  of 
testing.  The  fearless  doing  of  right  in  defiance  of  self-interest  or 
peril  is  the  training  of  a  hero  and  a  saint.1 

If  There  was  one  peculiarity  in  Goethe's  nature,  namely,  a 
singular  hesitation  in  adopting  any  decisive  course  of  action — 
singular,  in  a  man  so  resolute  and  imperious  when  once  his 
decision  had  been  made.  This  is  the  weakness  of  imaginative 
men.  However  strong  the  volition,  when  once  it  is  set  going, 
there  is  in  men  of  active  intellects,  and  especially  in  men  of 
imaginative  apprehensive  intellects,  a  fluctuation  of  motives 
keeping  the  volition  in  abeyance,  which  practically  amounts  to 
weakness ;  and  is  only  distinguished  from  weakness  by  the 
strength  of  the  volition  when  let  loose.  Goethe,  who  was  aware 
of  this  peculiarity,  used  to  attribute  it  to  his  never  having  been 
placed  in  circumstances  which  required  prompt  resolutions,  and  to 
his  not  having  educated  his  will ;  but  I  believe  the  cause  lay 
much  deeper,  lying  in  the  nature  of  psychological  actions,  not 
in  the  accidents  of  education.2 

2.  We  may  pity  the  weak  who  fail,  but  can  we  blame  them  ? 
It  is  not  for  us  to  judge ;  but  we  can  learn.  One  lesson  is  clear. 
Weakness  often  fails,  because  it  does  not  make  use  of  the  strength 
which  is  at  hand.  No  man  is  beaten  without  remembering  in  the 
hour  of  his  defeat  the  lost  opportunities  which  might  have  been 
turned  into  means  of  victory.  Pilate  tailed,  and  Pilate's  name  is 
covered  with  the  memory  of  his  shameful  weakness ;  but  Pilate 
did  not  fall  unwarned,  or  fail  for  want  of  helpful  and  stimulating 
influences. 

(1)  He  was  a  Roman,  and  the  national  and  traditional  char 
acteristics  of  his  race  might  have  been  summoned  to  his  aid. 
Roman  firmness  and  vigorous  Roman  administration,  however 
much  enervating  vice  may  have  become  fashionable,  were  not 

1  W.  E.  Skinnor,  A  Book  of  Lay  Senrums,  1&. 
1  O.  H.  L*-wtw,  Tlit  Lift  of  {,'oelU,  49'J. 


414  PILATE 

wholly  dead.  They  must  still  have  appealed  as  ideals  to  men 
who  had  any  knowledge  and  any  patriotic  love  of  the  history 
of  Rome.  If  weakness  was  a  vice  in  Roman  eyes,  was  not  the 
consciousness  of  this  a  witness  against  feebleness  and  unjust 
irresolution  in  any  Roman  governor  ? 

K  Bad  execution  of  your  designs  does  less  harm  than  irresolu 
tion  in  forming  them.  Streams  do  less  harm  flowing  than  when 
dammed  up.  There  are  some  men  so  infirm  of  purpose  that  they 
always  require  direction  from  others,  and  this  not  on  account  of 
any  perplexity,  for  they  judge  clearly,  but  from  sheer  incapacity 
for  action.  It  needs  some  skill  to  find  out  difficulties,  but  more  to 
find  a  way  out  of  them.  There  are  others  who  are  never  in  straits  : 
their  clear  judgment  and  determined  character  fit  them  for  the 
highest  callings ;  their  intelligence  tells  them  where  to  insert  the 
thin  end  of  the  wedge,  their  resolution  how  to  drive  it  home. 
They  soon  get  through  anything :  as  soon  as  they  have  done  with 
one  sphere  of  action,  they  are  ready  for  another.  Affianced  to 
Fortune,  they  make  themselves  sure  of  success.1 

(2)  He  had  a  home,  and  the  partner  of  his  home  joys  was 
a  woman  who  at  least  was  no  dullard,  but  whose  thought  and 
sagacity  went  forth  with  sympathy  to  her  husband  in  his  work. 
Her  voice  spoke  to  him  in  the  moment  of  his  temptation,  and 
was  lifted  up  against  the  fatal  policy  of  evasion  and  feebleness. 
The  dream  of  Pilate's  wife,  and  the  message  to  which  it  gave  rise, 
must  not  be  flung  aside  as  a  mere  picturesque  addition  to  the 
story.  People  do  not  dream  of  matters  of  which  they  know 
nothing.  The  occurrence  of  the  incident  suggests  to  us  that  there 
must  have  been  previous  thought  and  previous  knowledge.  "  That 
just  man  "  whose  memory  haunted  the  woman  in  her  dreams  was 
one  who  must  have  been  more  than  a  casual  prisoner  brought 
before  the  ruler.  Can  it  have  been  that  His  fame  had  reached 
Pilate's  household  beforehand  ?  Can  it  have  been  that  some  of  His 
strange  utterances  and  wonderful  works  had  been  told  in  the  hear 
ing  of  Pilate  or  his  wife  ?  Whatever  the  earlier  history  may  have 
been,  this  woman,  whose  thoughtful  disposition  made  her  a  helpmeet 
to  Pilate,  was  evidently  impressed  in  some  way  with  the  moral 
beauty  and  spiritual  dignity  of  the  Prophet  of  Nazareth,  and  her 
influence  was  exerted  to  stay  the  feet  of  her  husband  on  the  fatal 
downward  path  of  irresolution  and  injustice. 

1  Ralthasar  Gracian.  Ths.  Art  of  Worldly  Wisdom,  42. 


PILATE  415 

f  In  Luther's  day  a  distinction  was  drawn  between  different 
kinds  of  dreams.  One  class  was  sent,  as  men  of  that  age  believed, 
directly  by  the  devil.  To  this  class  they  thought  the  dream  of 
Pilate's  wife  belonged.  Some  one  asked  Luther  what  was  the 
purpose  of  the  evil  one,  in  seeking  thus,  through  a  dream,  to  hinder 
the  crucifixion  of  Christ.  The  doctor  answered  that  perhaps  he 
thought,  "  I  have  murdered  many  prophets,  and  yet  things  have 
got  worse  and  worse.  They  are  too  faithful,  and  this  Man  also 
has  no  fear.  I  prefer  that  He  should  remain  alive.  Perhaps  I 
might  be  able  to  kill  or  mislead  Him  through  some  temptation. 
In  this  way  I  might  accomplish  more!" 

So  you   went   and   you   told   him   my   word,  as  he   sat   on  the 

ivory  throne ; 
He  was  troubled   and   pale   as   he   heard,  but   he   gave   you  an 

answer  ?     None ! 
He    is    dazed    and    daunted,    the    Roman,    by    Jews,    and    the 

venomous  gleam 
Of  their  eyes — can  he  list  to  a  woman  or  hearken  the  tale  of 

a  dream  ? 

Can  he  argue  of  mercy  or   ruth,  while    they   cry    for  the  cross 

and  the  rods  ? 
He  smiles,   and   he   asks  "What  is    truth?"    when    they    show 

him  the  signs  of  the  gods; 
By  the  washing  and  wiping  of    hands    he  is    cleansed   from  the 

blood  of  the  just; 
AB  the  water  is  dried   upon  sands,  so  a  life  tiieth  back  to  the 

dust. 

For    the    murderous    multitude    foam,    and    the    palace    is    pale 

with  alarm , 
He  looks,  and  the  pitiless   dome  of    the    heavens   is  empty  and 

cairn, 
He  heard  not  the  hurrying  sound  as  of  ghosts  that  arose  from 

the  deep ; 
He  saw    not    the   gathering    round    me   of    terrors    that    torture 

sleep. 

But  they   clouded    the    glass    of    my    brain,  the    Powers   of    the 

Air,  while   I  slept, 

Infinite  ominous  train,  out  of  void  into  void  as  they  swept. 
Are  the  myriad  Manes  warning  that  evil  shall  come  as  a  Hood  ? 
Or  the  kindly  divinities  mourning    for    the  sorrow   of   innocent 

blood? 


416  PILATE 

For  above   came   a   crowd   and   a   sighing ;   as   late   in   the  last 

watch  of  night, 
When  in  cities    besieged  is  a  crying  of  people  run   wild   with 

affright ; 
When  the  streets  are  all  thronged  in  the  gloom,  for  with  day 

comes  slaughter  and  storm, 
So  my  ear   rang   with    voices    of    doom,   and    mine   eye   saw   a 

vanishing  Form. 

Who  is  He  for  whom  spectres  are  risen  to  threaten,  and 
spirits  to  weep  ? 

Who  is  this  whom  ye  bear  from  your  prison,  the  face  which 
I  saw  in  my  sleep  ? 

The  hours  seem  to  hover  and  wait — is  a  Nemesis  loading  their 
wings  ? 

I  am  stirred  by  forebodings  of  fate,  and  the  sense  of  unspeak 
able  things.1 

(3)  There  was  yet  another  restraining  hand  which  the  provi 
dence  of  the  hour  brought  to  Pilate's  aid.  This  was  the  hand  of 
the  Prisoner  at  the  judgment-seat.  The  narrative  shows  us  the 
singular  spectacle  of  the  weak  and  the  accused  man  giving  mora, 
aid  to  the  strong  one  who  was  His  judge.  Christ's  replies  to 
Pilate  are  not  so  much  replies  on  the  case  as  replies  on  the  moral 
responsibility  of  Pilate  at  the  moment.  He  is  more  anxious  to 
save  Pilate  from  moral  ruin  than  Himself  from  death.  He  turns 
Pilate's  thoughts  upon  himself.  "  Sayest  thou  this  thing  of  thy 
self?"  He  speaks  to  him  of  the  sublime  and  spiritual  kingdom 
of  the  truth,  higher  and  more  enduring  than  any  splendour  of 
imperial  Rome.  He  lifts  His  judge  into  the  serene  atmosphere  of 
heaven.  "  Every  one  that  is  of  the  truth  heareth  my  voice."  He 
reminds  Pilate  of  that  Divine  source  of  all  judgment  and  power 
to  whom  every  judge  and  mighty  one  of  the  world  is  finally 
responsible.  He  tells  that  power  is  not  a  thing  of  pride,  but  a 
responsibility  and  a  trust.  It  is  given  from  on  high.  In  all  these 
the  hand  of  help  is  reached  forth  to  Pilate.  Pilate  sees  it;  his 
conscience  makes  him  uneasy ;  he  is  aware  that  he  is  thrusting 
away  from  him  some  truly  spiritual  and  real  aid.  But  the  weak 
ness  and  ambition  of  his  nature  are  too  much.  He  struggles,  but 
he  struggles  in  vain,  and  he  is  swept  away,  a  worthless  and  unre 
sisting  piece  of  wreckage,  on  the  wave  of  popular  tumult. 

1  Sir  A.  C.  Lyall,  The  Urtam  of  Pilate's  Wife. 


PILATE  417 

TJ  It  is  interesting  to  think  what  Pilate  might  have  become 
had  he,  like  one  of  his  officers,  confessed  the  Crucified  to  be  the 
Son  of  God.  What  an  Easter  Day  the  resurrection  morning 
would  have  been  to  him  and  his  wife !  What  a  tribute  of  grati 
tude  men  of  succeeding  ages  would  have  paid  him :  churches  in 
his  honour,  children  named  after  him,  books  written  about  him  ! 
It  was  a  great  opportunity,  but  he  missed  it,  missed  it  because  it 
awakened  no  need.  And  Pilate  passes  away  as  a  disappointed, 
broken  life.  The  old  legend,  that  he  still  haunts  one  of  the  Swiss 
lakes,  is  only  typical  of  the  feeling  his  memory  awakes :  a  restless 
shadow  ever  seeking,  but  in  vain,  the  opportunity  he  flung  away.1 

TI  There  is  a  well-known  short  story  by  Anatole  France  where 
Pontius  Pilate  is  represented  in  retirement  near  the  end  of  his 
life  talking  over  old  times  with  a  pleasure-loving  friend  who 
had  known  him  in  Judaea.  During  supper  the  talk  falls  upon 
the  qualities  of  the  Jewish  women,  and  the  friend  speaks  of  Mary 
of  Magdala  whom  he  had  known  during  her  unrepentant  days  in 
Jerusalem.  He  recounts  the  manner  of  his  parting  from  Mary, 
who  left  him  to  join  the  band  of  a  young  miracle-worker  from 
Galilee.  "  His  name  was  Jesus ;  He  came  from  Nazareth,  and 
was  crucified  at  last  for  some  crime  or  other.  Pontius,  do  you 
remember  the  man  ? "  The  old  procurator  frowned  and  raised  a 
hand  to  his  forehead  as  one  who  searches  through  his  memory. 
Then,  after  some  moments  of  silence,  "Jesus,"  he  muttered, 
"  Jesus  of  Nazareth  ?  No,  I  don't  remember  Him."  * 

1  G.  H.  S.  Walpole,  Personality  and  Power,  135. 
1  H.  Sturt,  Tlit  Idea  of  a  Free  Church,  224. 


MARY-SIMON 


HEROD  ANTIPAS 


419 


LITERATURE. 

Broade,  Q.  E.,  The  Sixfold  Trial  of  Our  Lord  (1899). 

Brodrick,  M.,  The  Trial  and  Crucifixion  of  Jesus  Christ  of  Nazareth  (1908). 

Buss,  S.,  Roman  Law  and  History  in  the  New  Testament  (1901),  112. 

Cameron,  A.  B.,  From  the  Garden  to  the  Cross  (1896),  157. 

Candlish,  R.  S.,  Scripture  Characters  (1872),  166. 

Carpenter,  W.  B.,  The  Son  of  Man  among  the  Sons  of  Men  (1893),  11. 

Clow,  W.  M.,  The  Day  of  the  Cross  (1909),  43. 

English,  E.,  Sermons  and  Homilies  (1913),  127. 

Farrar,  F.  W.,  The  Herod*  (1898),  166. 

Hough,  L.  H.,  The  Men  of  the  Gospels  (1913),  79. 

Innes,  A.  T.,  The  Trial  of  Jesus  Christ  (1899). 

Luckock,  H.  M.,  Footprints  of  the  Son  of  Man  as  traced  by  St.  Mark,  ii. 

(1886)  262. 

Maclaren,  A.,  Christ  in  the  Heart  (1886),  317. 
Moulton,  J.  H.,  Visions  of  Sin  (1898),  153. 
Robertson,  F.  W.,  Sermons,  iii.  (1876)  270. 
Rosadi,  Q.,  The  Trial  of  Jesus  (1905). 
Stalker,  J.,  The  Trial  and  Death  of  Jesus  Christ  (1894),  58. 

„       „    The  Two  St.  Johns  (1895),  271. 
Tipple,  S.  A.,  Days  of  Old  (1911),  157. 

Whyte,  A.,  Bible  Characters  :  Joseph  and  Mary  to  James  (1900),  142. 
Dictionary  of  the  Bible,  ii.  (1899)  358  (A.  C.  Headlam). 

„        „        „        (Single-volume,  1909),  344  (H.  S.  Nash). 
Dictionary  of  Christ  and  the  Gospels,  i.  (1906)  721  (W.  P.  Armstrong). 
Encyclopaedia  Biblica,  ii.  (1901),  col.  2030  (W.  J.  Woodhouae). 


HEROD  ANTTPAS. 

Now  when  Herod  saw  Jesus,  he  was  exceeding  glad  :  for  he  was  of  a 
long  time  desirous  to  see  him,  because  he  had  heard  concerning  him  ;  and  he 
hoped  to  see  some  miracle  done  by  him.  And  he  questioned  him  in  many 
words  ;  but  he  answered  him  nothing. — Luke  xxiii.  8,  9. 

OF  all  the  Herods  known  to  history  the  one  with  whom  the  reader 
of  the  New  Testament  is  best  acquainted  is  Herod  Antipas.  He 
was  one  of  the  sons  of  Herod  the  Great.  On  the  death  of  his 
father  he  became  ruler  of  Galilee  and  Peraea,  his  title  being 
tetrarch,  although  by  courtesy  ho  was  sometimes  called  king.  It 
is  this  Herod's  spiritual  history  that  we  are  now  to  follow.  It  is 
comprehended  under  two  titles:  (1)  Herod  and  John;  (2)  Herod 
and  Jesus. 


HEROD  AND  JOHN. 

1.  In  spite  of  the  meanness  and  misery  of  his  life,  we  are 
bound  to  confess  that  Herod  was  a  religious  man.  In  a  sense  all 
the  Herods  were  religious.  If  it  had  not  been  so,  they  would  not 
have  been  tolerated  by  the  Jews,  to  whom  it  was  ever  a  sore 
thought  that  they  belonged  to  the  hated  offspring  of  Edom. 
Their  religion  was  primitive  enough,  we  might  safely  say  savage 
enough,  and  therefore  mixed  with  elements  of  treachery,  blood- 
thirstiness,  and  lust.  Yet  it  was  religion  of  a  sort.  The  feeling 
after  God  was  there,  and  as  evidence  of  its  existence  there  was 
always  a  conscience  that  could  be  wrought  to  a  pitch  of  bitter 
remorse. 

T|  As  the  eye  is  correlated  with  light,  so  is  every  specific  organ 
correlated  with  some  external  arrangement,  without  which  it 
would  not  have  existed.  Now  apply  this  doctrine  to  that  moral 
or  spiritual  faculty  which  in  the  majority  of  men  acknowledges 


422  HEROD  ANTIPAS 

the  presence  of  a  spiritual  observer  and  judge  of  absolutely  secret 
thoughts  and  motives.  Can  we  suppose  that  this  sense  of  shame 
without  the  presence  of  any  bodily  observer,  this  sense  of  peace 
and  even  joy  which  streams  in  from  outside  just  as  it  would  do, 
though  in  larger  measure,  from  the  sympathy  of  a  friend,  is  a  mere 
imaginative  overflow  from  the  conception  of  ourselves  as  we 
should  feel  if  our  mind  were  transparent  to  the  eye  of  those 
we  wished  to  please  ?  Surely  the  quiver  of  the  whole  nature  to 
observation  from  within  bespeaks  as  distinct  an  organ  of  our  minds 
as  the  sensitiveness  of  the  eye  to  light  bespeaks  an  organ  of  our 
bodies.  If  the  structure  of  the  eye  implies  light,  if  the  structure 
of  the  ear  implies  sound,  then  the  structure  of  our  conscience  as 
certainly  implies  a  spiritual  presence  and  judgment,  the  access  of 
some  being  to  our  inward  thoughts  and  motives.1 

2.  It  is  therefore  no  surprise  to  be  told  that,  when  Herod 
learned  of  the  proximity  of  John  the  Baptist  to  his  palace  at 
Machserus,  he  sent  for  him,  gave  him  what  we  might  call  a  chapel 
to  preach  in,  went  often  himself  to  hear  him,  heard  him  gladly, 
and  did  many  things  which  John  bade  him  do.  It  was  because 
this  man  had  his  burdened  conscience  that  the  religious  revival 
which  was  beating  in  so  many  young  hearts  in  Galilee  became  a 
thing  of  deep  interest  to  him.  It  was  because  he  had  his  uneasy 
spirit  that  he  sought  the  companionship  of  so  unlikely  a  court 
preacher  as  John.  It  was  because  he  had  his  wounded  spirit  that 
he  observed  him,  and  did  many  things  gladly,  that  he  might  get 
an  anodyne  for  his  pain. 

U  George  Fox's  Journal  for  1657  contains  a  record  of  his  visit 
to  Scotland,  and  of  his  being  summoned,  when  in  Edinburgh, 
before  the  Council  as  an  unauthorized  preacher. 

"They  asked  me,"  he  says,  "what  was  the  occasion  of  my 
coming  into  that  nation  ?  I  told  them,  I  came  to  visit  the  seed 
of  God,  and  the  intent  of  my  coming  was,  that  all  in  the  nation 
that  professed  the  Scriptures  might  come  to  the  light,  Spirit,  and 
power,  which  they  were  in,  who  gave  them  forth.  They  asked 
me  whether  I  had  any  outward  business  there  ?  I  said,  '  nay.' 
Then  they  bid  me  withdraw,  and  the  door-keeper  took  me  by  the 
hand,  and  led  me  forth.  In  a  little  time  they  sent  for  me  again, 
and  told  me,  I  must  depart  the  nation  of  Scotland  by  that  day 
seventh  night.  I  asked  them,  '  why,  what  had  I  done  ?  What 
was  my  transgression,  that  they  passed  such  a  sentence  upon  me 

1  R.  H.  Hutton,  Aspects  of  Religious  and  Scientific.  Thought,  133. 


HEROD  ANTIPAS  423 

to  depart  out  of  the  nation  ? '  They  told  ine,  they  would  not 
dispute  with  me.  Then  I  desired  them  to  hear  what  I  had  to  say 
to  them ;  but  they  said,  they  would  not  hear  me.  I  told  them, 
Pharaoh  heard  Moses  and  Aaron,  and  yet  he  was  a  heathen  and 
no  Christian,  and  Herod  heard  John  the  Baptist;  and  they  should 
not  be  worse  than  these.  But  they  cried,  '  withdraw,  withdraw.' 
Whereupon  the  door-keeper  took  me  again  by  the  hand,  and  led 
me  out."1 

3.  There  was  one  thing,  however,  which  Herod  would  not  do. 
Go  back  a  little  into  his  history.     He  had  married  the  daughter 
of  Aretas,  king  of  the  Nabatseans,  and  all  was  well  with  him. 
The  marriage  secured  peace  between  his  country  and  the  neigh 
bouring  country  of  Arabia  ;  it  pleased  the  Emperor  at  Rome ;  and 
by  all  we  know  it  gave  Herod  a  happy  home.     But  in  an  evil  day 
he  visited  Rome,  where  his  brother  Philip  was  living.     Philip's 
wife  Herodias  and  he  entered  into  an  adulterous  intrigue,  and 
when  he  left  she  left  with  him.     The  daughter  of  Aretas  fled  to 
her  father's  house,  and  Herod   and   Herodias  were  now  living 
together   at   Machaerus.     John   the   Baptist   disapproved  of  the 
connexion  and  was   not  afraid   to  say  so.      He  said  plainly  to 
Herod,  "  It  is  not  lawful  for  thee  to  have  her."     Herod  was  dis 
pleased.     Herodias  was  still  more  deeply  offended.     And  John 
was  cast  into  one  of  the  dungeons  which  were  a  notorious  feature 
of  that  fortress-palace. 

U  There  are  some  men  whom  God  has  gifted  with  a  rare 
simplicity  of  heart,  which  makes  them  utterly  incapable  of 
pursuing  the  subtle  excuses  which  can  be  made  for  evil.  There 
is  in  John  no  morbid  sympathy  for  the  offender :  "  It  is  not 
lawful."  He  does  not  say,  "  It  is  best  to  do  otherwise ;  it  is  un 
profitable  for  your  own  happiness  to  live  in  this  way."  He  says 
plainly,  "  It  is  wrong  for  you  to  do  this  evil."  Earnest  men  in 
this  world  have  no  time  for  subtleties  and  casuistry.  Sin  is 
detestable,  horrible,  in  God's  sight,  and  when  once  it  has  been 
made  clear  that  it  is  not  lawful,  a  Christian  has  nothing  to  do 
with  toleration  of  it.  If  we  dare  not  tell  our  patron  of  his  sin  we 
must  give  up  his  patronage.1 

4.  Then,  "  when  a  convenient  day  was  come,"  as  St.  Mark  puts 
it — it  was  his  birthday — Herod  "  made  a  supper  to  his  lords,  and 

1  The  Journal  of  George  Fox  (ed.  1901),  i.  401. 
1  Y.  W.  Rul)ertsou,  Srrtnvnt,  iii.  276. 


424  HEROD  ANTIPAS 

the  high  captains,  and  the  chief  men  of  Galilee."  It  was  an 
occasion  after  Herod's  own  heart.  He  loved  the  display  of  it,  the 
sense  of  importance  it  gave  him,  and  the  opportunity  of  self- 
indulgence.  He  was  altogether  in  his  element,  when  unexpectedly 
the  door  opened,  and  Salome,  the  daughter  of  Herodias  by  her 
husband  Philip,  came  in  and  danced  before  them  all.  Herod  must 
have  been  taken  aback.  But  the  lords  were  delighted  and  he 
joined  in  the  applause.  The  more  shamelessly  she  danced  the 
more  delighted  they  were.  Herod  sprang  to  his  feet  and,  by  way 
of  showing  his  appreciation,  offered  the  girl  anything  that  she 
would  ask — even  if  it  were  the  half  of  his  kingdom.  Salome 
consulted  her  mother.  Herodias  seized  the  opportunity  to  exact 
the  vengeance  she  had  been  waiting  for.  "  Ask  the  head  of  John 
the  Baptist,"  she  said.  And  in  a  short  time  John's  bleeding  head 
was  brought  in  upon  a  dish  and  given  to  the  girl,  who  gave  it  to 
her  mother. 

U  So  did  the  spectre  of  Death  invade  the  gay  assembly  on 
Herod's  birthday.  But  on  whom  did  the  grisly  shadow  fall  ? 
Not  on  the  prisoner,  who,  ere  the  tiendlike  woman  seized  her  prey, 
was  singing  the  song  of  the  redeemed  around  the  Throne,  in  the 
new-found  ecstasies  of  heaven.  They  truly  died  who  lived  to  bear 
on  their  seared  consciences  the  guilt  of  prompting,  of  executing, 
of  approving  that  foul  murder.  Assuredly  there  was  death  in  the 
cup  that  stupefied  the  revellers'  sense  of  right,  and  made  them 
stifle  God's  last  warning.  How  truly  might  all  such  sots  as  they 
who  tarry  now  as  Herod's  court  tarried  then  around  the  poisoned 
liquor  salute  their  god  with  the  echo  of  the  gladiators'  cry,  "  Ewet 
Liber  !  Morituri  te  salutamus  !  " 1 

5.  Herod  was  sorry.  He  had  lost  his  religion.  He  lost  his 
religion  that  day  he  intrigued  with  his  brother's  wife ;  but  he  did 
not  know  it.  He  still  had  delight  in  hearing  sermons.  He  still 
did  many  things  which  the  preacher  bade  him  do.  And  that  is 
the  best  test  we  have  of  sincerity  in  hearing  sermons.  But  now 
the  preacher  whom  he  had  heard  so  gladly,  and  whom  he  had 
obeyed,  perhaps  at  some  little  cost  to  his  convenience,  was  dead. 
He  himself  was  his  murderer.  However  his  conscience  will 
torment  him  in  the  future,  he  can  no  longer  keep  up  the  pretence 
of  being  a  religious  man.  He  had  done  many  things  which  John 
1  J.  H.  Moulton,  Visions  of  Sin,  176. 


HEROD  ANTIPAS  425 

bade  him  do,  but  there  was  that  one  thing  which  he  would  not 
do,  and  now  it  had  slain  his  religious  life.  It  was  an  ugly  sin. 
But  it  does  not  need  an  ugly  sin  to  slay  a  man's  religious  life.  A 
very  proper  sin,  and  even  a  very  little  sin,  will  do  it,  if  he  refuses 
to  give  it  up. 

TJ  Herod's  crime  haunted  him.  His  guilty  soul  was  shaken  by 
superstitious  dread ;  and,  Sadducee  though  he  was,  denying  the 
doctrine  of  the  .Resurrection,  the  idea  took  possession  of  him  that 
the  murdered  Baptist  had  risen  from  the  dead,  endowed,  as  befitted 
a  visitant  from  the  unseen  world,  with  mysterious  and  miraculous 
powers.  It  came  to  pass  with  Antipas  as  with  many  an  un 
believer  : 

Just  when  we  are  safest,  there's  a  sunset-touch, 
A  fancy  from  a  Hower-bell,  some  one's  death, 
A  chorus-ending  from  Euripides, — 
And  that's  enough  for  fifty  hopes  and  feurs 
As  old  and  new  at  once  as  nature's  self, 
To  rap  and  knock  and  enter  in  our  soul, 
Take  hands  and  dance  there,  a  fantastic  ring, 
Round  the  ancient  idol,  on  his  base  again, — 
The  grand  Perhaps!     We  look  on  helplessly. 
There  the  old  misgivings,  crooked  questions  are.1 


II. 

HEROD  AND  JESUS. 

1.  Herod  could  no  longer   look    upon  himself   as  a  religious 
man.     Yet  he  went  up  to  Jerusalem  as  usual  to  the  Passover. 
Why    not  ?      The   murder   of   John  the  Baptist   weighed   more 
heavily  upon  his  conscience  than  the  abduction  of  his  brother's 
wife.     But  it  was  nothing  to  the  world.     Who  cared  what  became 
of  the  Baptist  ?     Only  those  few  disciples  who  came  by  night  and 
carried  away  his  headless  body  for  burial.     If  he  could  go  to  the 
Passover  while  living  with  Herodias  there  was  nothing  to  prevent 
his  going  after  the  death  of  John.     Herod  went  up  to  Jerusalem 
to  keep  the  feast. 

2.  Now  it  happened  that  Jesus  also  had  gone  up  to  Jerusalem 

1  Browning,  Bith<>p  Blougram's  Apology. 


426  HEROD  ANTIPAS 

to  that  Passover.  And  while  He  was  there  He  had  been  betrayed 
by  one  of  His  disciples  into  the  hands  of  the  Jewish  authorities, 
and  had  been  brought  before  the  Sanhedrin,  who  had  promptly 
condemned  Him  to  death.  Not  having  the  power  to  put  Him  to 
death  themselves,  they  sent  Him  to  Pilate,  the  Roman  governor, 
to  have  their  sentence  ratified  and  to  have  Him  executed.  But 
Pilate  made  some  difficulty  about  it.  It  was  beneath  the  dignity 
of  a  Roman  procurator  to  put  any  man  to  death  at  the  bidding  of 
another  court.  The  accused  must  be  tried  according  to  the  laws 
of  Rome.  So  Pilate  examined  Him,  and  announced  to  the  Jews 
that  he  found  no  fault  in  Him.  This,  of  course,  did  not  satisfy 
the  priests.  They  had  condemned  Him  to  death  and  they  were 
determined  that  Pilate  should  put  Him  to  death,  whatever  he 
thought  of  His  guilt.  Pilate  was  not  a  little  perplexed.  Fortu 
nately  he  discovered  that  Jesus  belonged  to  Galilee,  which  was  part 
of  the  country  over  which  Herod  ruled.  And  Herod  was  at  that 
very  time  in  Jerusalem.  Pilate  sent  Him  to  Herod. 

3.  When  Herod  was  told  that  Jesus  was  coming  he  was 
"  exceeding  glad."  It  was  not  the  first  time  that  he  had  heard  of 
Him.  When  they  first  told  him  about  the  new  Prophet  who  had 
appeared,  Herod  had  said  an  extraordinary  thing,  "  It  is  not  a  new 
prophet,"  he  had  said,  "  it  is  John  whom  I  beheaded :  he  is  risen 
from  the  dead."  Herod  had  repented  that  rash  speech  many  a 
day  since  then,  and  had  wondered  how  he  ever  could  have  been 
betrayed  into  the  folly  of  it.  But  when  a  man  outrages  his 
conscience,  it  frequently  finds  some  way  of  making  a  fool  of  him. 
Some  time  after  he  had  made  inquiries  about  Jesus,  not  perhaps 
with  any  evil  intention,  more  probably  to  satisfy  a  certain  craving 
for  rest  of  conscience  that  still  remained  with  him.  The  Pharisees, 
however,  advised  Jesus  to  keep  out  of  his  way,  and  for  once  Jesus 
took  their  advice.  Herod  might  think  he  had  good  motives,  but 
what  were  they  worth  ?  "  Go  and  say  to  that  fox,"  said  Jesus.  It 
was  a  word  as  plain  as  John  had  ever  uttered. 

K  Why  "  fox  "  ?  Why  not  panther  or  wolf  ? — either  of  which 
epithets,  on  the  supposition  that  Herod  meditated  slaughter, 
would  have  been  more  appropriate.  Yet,  notwithstanding  the 
wolfish  profession,  the  reality  may  have  been  vulpine  and  no 
more.  For  a  fierce,  blustering  tongue  does  not  always  betoken  a 
ferocious  spirit,  is  sometimes  due  to  the  craft  of  cowardice,  A 


HEROD  ANTIPAS  427 

savage  threat,  instead  of  expressing  an  equally  savage  intention, 
may  have  been  only  a  mask,  behind  which  timid  anxiety  hides 
itself,  hoping  therewith  to  scare.1 

TI  It  is  a  large  part  of  our  daily  lesson  and  discipline  and  duty 
in  this  life  to  be  able  to  give  the  proper  characters,  and  to  apply 
the  proper  epithets,  to  men  and  to  things  ;  and  to  do  that  at  the 
right  time  and  in  the  right  temper.  It  is  a  large  and  an  important 
part  of  every  preacher's  office  especially  to  apply  to  all  men  and 
to  all  their  actions  their  absolutely  and  fearlessly  right  and  true 
names.  To  track  out  the  wolf,  and  the  serpent,  and  the  toad,  and 
the  fox  in  the  men  in  whom  these  bestialities  dwell,  and  to  warn 
all  men  how  and  where  all  that  will  end ;  no  minister  may  shrink 
from  that.  All  the  vices  and  all  the  crimes  of  the  tetrarch's 
miserable  life,  and  all  the  weakness  and  duplicity  of  his  contempt 
ible  character,  are  summed  up  and  sealed  down  on  Herod  Antipas 
in  that  one  Divine  word  that  day  :  "  That  fox."  - 

4.  So  Herod  had  never  seen  Jesus  till  now.     When  he  saw 
Him  he  was  exceeding  glad,  "  for,"  says  St.  Luke,  "  he  was  of  a 
long  time  desirous  to  see  him,  because  he  had  heard  concerning 
him ;  and  he  hoped  to  see  some  miracle  done  by  him."     What 
miracle  could  he  hope  to  see  ?     Herod  may  not  have  named  it  to 
himself,  but  there  was  one  miracle  which  he  wished  Jesus  would 
work  above  all  other  miracles  in  the  world.     He  wished  that  He 
would  do  some  miracle  by  which  he  might  recover  his  old  religious 
life  and  the  thrill  with  which  he  once  heard  John  the  Baptist — 
although  he  kept  his  sin.     And  when  Jesus  came  he  questioned 
Him  in  many  words,  "  but  he  answered  him  nothing."     And  in  the 
bitterness  of  his  disappointment,  poor  Herod  with  his  soldiers  set 
Jesus  at  nought  and  mocked  Him,  and,  arraying  Him  in  gorgeous 
apparel,  sent  Him  back  again  to  Pilate. 

5.  Is  it  the  end  of  Jesus  ?     No ;  but  it  is  the  end  of  Herod. 
Secular  history  tells  us  certain  things  that  happened  to  him  in 
later  life,  all  following  from  that  evil  choice  of  his  early  manhood. 
But  that  is  the  end  for  him  and  for  us.     "  Jesus  answered  him 
nothing.' 

^|  You    know    what   reprobation    is  ?      This   is    reprobation — 
"  Herod  questioned  Jesus  with  many  words,  but  he  answered  him 
nothing."     That  is  reprobation.     It  is  our  reprobation  begun  when 
1  S    A.  Tipiile,  Days  of  Old,  161.  'A    Whyte. 


428  HEROD  ANTIPAS 

God  answers  us  nothing.  When,  with  all  our  praying,  and  with  all 
our  reading,  and  with  all  our  inquiring,  He  still  answers  us  nothing. 
Herod's  day  of  grace  had  lasted  long,  but  it  is  now  at  an  end. 
Herod  had  had  many  opportunities,  and  at  one  time  he  was  almost 
persuaded.  At  one  time  he  was  not  very  far  from  the  Kingdom 
of  Heaven.  But  all  that  is  long  past.  Herod  had  smothered  and 
silenced  his  conscience  long  ago,  and  now  he  is  to  be  for  ever  let 
alone.1 

^|  A  few  words  will  suffice  to  tell  how  Nemesis  overtook  Herod, 
even  in  this  life.  "  By  what  things  a  man  sinneth,  by  these  he 
is  punished,"  and  Herod  was  ultimately  brought  to  ruin  by  the 
woman  he  had  married,  for  whose  sake  he  had  murdered  John. 

Caligula,  immediately  after  his  accession,  gave  to  Agrippa,  the 
brother  of  Herodias,  the  tetrarchies  of  Lysanias  and  of  Philip, 
who  had,  three  years  before,  left  Salome  a  temporary  widow.  The 
title  of  king  was  bestowed  on  the  fortunate  adventurer,  who  had 
once  by  his  extravagance  run  into  such  difficulties  that  he  was 
glad  to  accept  the  charity  of  Antipas,  and  an  appointment  as  super 
intendent  of  the  market  at  Tiberias.  Herodias's  envy  and  ambition 
were  roused  by  her  brother's  advancement,  and  she  gave  her 
husband  no  peace  until  he  took  her  to  Home  to  sue  for  the  same 
title.  Herod  was  intensely  reluctant.  Caligula  had  been  closely 
attached  to  Herod's  rival  from  the  first,  and  in  the  meantime  there 
had  been  added  the  raving  madness  which  turned  Kome  into  a 
shambles  during  the  last  two  or  three  years  of  the  young  emperor's 
short  reign.  But  the  stronger  will  of  Herodias  once  more  prevailed, 
and  the  pair  went  up  to  Rome  to  sue  for  favours  from  the  wild 
beast  on  the  throne.  The  interview  took  place  at  Baiae,  the 
favourite  Roman  watering-place,  in  the  summer  of  39  A.D.  An 
envoy  of  Agrippa  brought  some  dangerous  charges  of  treason 
against  Antipas,  which  the  old  fox,  for  all  his  cunning,  was  unable 
to  confute.  Caligula  promptly  banished  him  to  Lyons  in  Gaul, 
and  a  few  months  later  gave  his  tetrarchy  to  the  accuser  Agrippa. 
Herodias,  as  Agrippa's  sister,  was  expressly  excepted  from  the 
sentence,  but  she  proudly  declined  to  abandon  the  husband  her 
ambition  had  ruined.  They  went  together  into  Gaul,  where, 
according  to  one  authority,  Caligula  caused  Herod  to  be  put  to 
death.  Thus  did  God  avenge  His  chosen.2 

1  A.  Whyte.  J  J.  II.  Moulton,  Visions  of  Sin,  ISO. 


SIMON   OF   GYRENE. 


LITERATURE. 

Barrow,  E.  P.,  The  Way  not  a  Sect  (1911),  98. 

Benson,  R.  M.,  The  Final  Passover,  iii.  pt.  n.  (1893)  187. 

Cameron,  A.  B.,  From  the  Garden  to  the  Cross  (1896),  302. 

Carter,  T.  T.,  Meditations  on  the  Suffering  Life  and  the  Glorified  Life  of 

Our  Lord  (1875),  104. 

Clow,  W.  M.,  The  Day  of  the  Cross  (1909),  157. 
Critchley,  G.,  When  the  Angels  have  gone  Away  (1899),  101. 
Cunningham,  R.  T.,  Memorials  (ed.  D.  Miller,  1890),  162. 
Davies,  D.,  Talks  with  Men,  Women  and  Children,  ii.  (1890)  59. 
Huntington,  F.  D.,  Christian  Believing  and  Living  (1885),  246. 
Mackintosh,  H.  R.,  Life  on  God's  Plan  (1909),  242. 
Maclaren,  A.,  A   Year's  Ministry,  ii.  (1888)  45. 
Macmillan,  H.,  The  Mystery  of  Grace  (1893),  48. 
Peabody,  F.  G.,  Mornings  in  the  College  Chapel,  i.  (1896)  168. 
Speirs,  E.  B.,  A  Present  Advent  (1900),  192. 
Stalker,  J.,  The  Trial  and  Death  of  Jesus  Christ  (1894),  133. 
Vaughan,  J.,  Sermons  (Brighton  Pulpit),  xv.  (1877),  No.  1048. 
Christian  Age,  xliii.  (1893)  194  (F.  D.  Huntington). 
Christian  World  Pulpit,  Ixxvii.  (1910)  140  (J.  H.  Renshaw). 
Churchman's  Pulpit  :  Holy  Week,  vi.  363  (G.  T.  Shettle). 


410 


SIMON    OF   GYRENE. 

And  they  compel  one  passing  by,  Simon  of  Cyrene,  coming  from  the 
country,  the  father  of  Alexander  and  Rufus,  to  go  with  them,  that  he  might 
bear  his  cross.  Mark  xv.  21. 

And  as  they  came  out,  they  found  a  man  of  Cyrene,  Simon  by  name  :  him 
they  compelled  to  go  with  them,  that  he  might  bear  his  cross.  Matt, 
xxvii.  32. 

And  when  they  led  him  away,  they  laid  hold  upon  one  Simon  of  Cyrene, 
coming  from  the  country,  and  laid  on  him  the  cross,  to  bear  it  after  Jesus.— 
Luke  xxiii.  26. 

1.  SOME  men  are  born  to  distinction.  They  inherit  an  honoured 
name,  a  name  which  has  been  associated  for  generations  past  with 
dignity  and  power ;  they  step  at  once  into  a  position  prepared  for 
them,  where  they  are  set  on  an  eminence  and  are  observed  by  all. 
Whatever  their  characters  may  be,  their  position  renders  them 
conspicuous.  Other  men  win  distinction.  There  is  nothing 
remarkable  about  them  to  begin  with ;  they  are  merely  units  in 
the  multitude  of  men  and  women.  But  by  and  by  they  show  that 
they  have  qualities  of  an  uncommon  stamp;  by  their  character  or 
genius  they  force  the  attention  of  their  fellow-beings,  and  at  last 
rise  to  distinction  and  fame. 

There  is  another  class  still,  considerably  smaller  perhaps  than 
either  of  these  two,  but  still  a  class  that  does  exist.  It  is  com 
posed  of  people  who  have  honours  thrust  upon  them,  without  any 
effort  or  even  desire  upon  their  part.  They  are  often  unwilling  to 
accept  them,  and  feel  them  a  burden  rather  than  a  pleasure. 
Occasionally,  for  instance,  we  meet  with  people  who  have 
suddenly  come  into  possession  of  great  wealth,  and  have  been 
lifted  out  of  a  humble  station  into  a  life  of  ease  that  is  strange  to 
them.  Especially  if  they  are  old  people,  they  often  feel  in  their 
inmost  hearts  a  regret  for  the  old,  accustomed,  obscure  life  which 
they  have  lost.  This  perhaps  is  a  rare  phenomenon,  but  it  is  not 
entirely  unknown.  Simon  the  Cyrenian  belonged  to  the  last 


432  SIMON  OF  CYRENE 

class.  He  was  forced  to  become  a  distinguished  man  in  spite  of 
himself.  He  little  thought,  as  he  walked  into  Jerusalem  that 
morning,  that  he  was  to  carry  a  cross  before  the  day  was  over. 
Had  Simon  suspected  anything  of  the  kind,  he  would  probably 
have  stayed  at  home.  Cross-bearing  was  a  path  to  distinction 
which  he  had  no  ambition  to  tread.  And  yet  Simon  became  a 
famous  man  that  day. 

H  Out  of  strange  quarries  delved  by  angel -hand,  rough-hewn 
from  ruins  of  primeval  sin,  topstone  of  nature  still  God's  master 
piece,  wondrous  material  for  self-sacrifice:  designed  by  perfect 
love  for  perfect  life,  guided  along  his  way,  sometimes  in  sanctuary, 
sometimes  on  sea:  moulded  by  marvel  of  God's  providence,  in 
passionate  devotion  holding  fast  to  Earth's  Redeemer,  the  Atoning 
Christ:  circled  by  Sacramental  grace,  at  the  inspiring  meeting- 
point  of  human  and  Divine  coincidence :  ushered  in  by  destiny, 
and  breathless  with  expectancy,  cometh  the  man.  Who,  think 
you,  would  of  his  free  will  have  gone  to  Libyan  Cyrene  to  find 
God's  man  to  bear  the  Cross  for  Christ  when  nature  failed  ? 1 

2.  A  brief  verse  from  each  of  the  Synoptists  is  all  we  have 
regarding  Simon.  Yet  each  is  not  just  the  echo  of  the  others. 
Each  puts  the  incident  in  his  own  way ;  and  so  we  find,  as  might 
be  expected,  a  touch  supplied  by  one  which  is  not  given  by  the 
others.  Thus  we  are  helped  to  a  complete  picture  in  our  own 
minds.  We  see  the  melancholy  procession  on  its  way  from  the 
Praitorium  to  Calvary.  Jesus  is  in  its  midst.  Accompanying  Him 
are  the  two  thieves,  bound  for  the  same  tragic  end.  The  soldiers 
are  there  in  strong  force,  with  their  centurion  at  their  head, 
charged  with  the  safeguarding  of  the  prisoners  and  the  carrying 
out  of  the  sentence  of  crucifixion.  And  the  mixed  multitude  are 
there,  priests,  rulers,  people  of  all  classes  and  conditions,  enliven 
ing  the  way  with  their  brutal  pleasantries.  Onward  the  proces 
sion  moves  through  street  after  street,  bringing  people  forth  from 
their  houses  to  inquire  what  it  all  means,  and  to  add  to  Jesus' 
reviling  foes  or  to  His  few  silent  friends,  according  as  the  sight 
happens  to  touch  them.  At  length  it  reaches  the  gate  of  the 
city,  and  makes  for  the  hill  in  the  open  country  beyond  the  walls, 
where  ceremonial  defilement  from  malefactors  dying  was  supposed 
no  longer  to  be  feared. 

1  A.  Daintree,  Studies  in  Hope,  91. 


SIMON  OF  GYRENE  433 

The  malefactor  who  was  to  be  crucified  had  to  carry  the  cross 
from  the  hall  of  judgment  to  the  place  of  execution.  Jesus  had 
begun  to  carry  the  cross  according  to  this  custom,  but  He  now  gave 
way  beneath  its  weight.  The  terrible  physical  suffering  which  He 
had  endured  had  worn  all  His  strength  away,  so  that  now  He  sinks 
to  the  ground  exhausted,  and  nigh  fainting,  the  cross  pressing  Him 
to  the  earth — "a  man  of  sorrows,  and  acquainted  with  grief." 
The  soldiers  are  in  a  dilemma.  It  is  evident  that  Jesus  must  get 
assistance,  He  can  go  on  no  longer.  The  crowd  presses  round 
Him,  gazing  at  Him  with,  on  the  whole,  little  if  any  more  pity 
than  a  crowd  bestows  on  a  horse  that  has  fallen  on  the  street. 
What  is  to  be  done  ?  The  soldiers  will  certainly  not  lower  them 
selves  by  helping  a  criminal  to  carry  His  cross.  The  Jews  will 
do  nothing  to  assist ;  they  would  flout  the  idea  of  touching  that 
accursed  piece  of  wood,  the  symbol  of  the  Roman  despotism 
which  they  hate.  The  soldiers  look  around  for  someone  who 
will  serve  their  purpose,  but  they  see  no  one.  The  Jews  about 
them  have  friends  in  Jerusalem  :  it  would  be  dangerous  to  rouse 
a  Jewish  mob  by  forcing  anyone  there  to  undertake  the  hateful 
task.  Too  much  blood  has  been  shed  of  late  in  these  very  streets, 
collisions  between  the  soldiers  and  the  people,  which  they  are 
careful  to  avoid.  They  are  almost  at  their  wits'  end.  But  just  at 
this  moment  they  catch  sight  of  Simon. 

He  is  on  his  way  into  the  city,  rejoicing  as  he  comes  near  the 
gate  at  the  prospect  of  ending  a  long  journey,  and  of  being  in 
time  to  join  in  the  Passover  celebrations.  He  is  on  pilgrimage  to 
the  Holy  City,  and  a  crowd  of  high  and  sacred  feelings  an-  rilling 
him.  He  is  coming  up  to  observe  the  most  sacred  of  Jewish 
feasts.  And  here  is  the  Divine  Paschal  Lamb  coming  forth  to 
meet  him,  on  His  way  to  be  slain  on  Calvary.  Could  he  ever 
have  hoped  to  see  such  a  sight  ?  Could  it  be  supposed  that  one 
looking  as  he  was  for  the  consolation  of  Israel  would  see  at  once 
in  that  most  melancholy  sight  the  fulfilment  of  his  grandest 
hopes  ?  Jesus  bending  and  ready  to  fall  under  His  heavy  cross, 
and  going  to  die  upon  it — could  this  be  the  consolation  and  the 
glory  of  Israel?  Could  He  be  the  long-looked-for  Messiah  ?  Or 
was  it  true  that  the  Paschal  Lamb,  associated  with  the  great  de 
liverance  from  Egypt's  bondage,  slain,  roasted,  eaten,  was  after 
all  but  the  type  of  the  true  Messiah,  and  that  Simon,  coining  to 

MAKY-filMON 28 


434  SIMON  OF  GYRENE 

observe  the  type,  was  to  find  in  that  cross-bearing  Jesus  on  His 
way  to  Calvary  the  veritable  antitype  ?  It  was  even  so,  as  Simon, 
we  have  reason  to  believe,  soon  came  to  know. 

T[  The  Cross  gives  us  Ormuzd  and  Ahriman,  not  in  cloudy 
epic,  but  in  actual  history ;  goodness  fighting  evil,  not  with 
earthly  weapons,  but  spiritual ;  fighting,  by  suffering,  by  giving, 
by  loving,  by  dying.  And  you,  in  your  turn,  get  the  heart  of  this 
by  trying  it,  by  living  it.  You  find  what  loving  is  by  loving,  what 
forgiveness  is  by  forgiving,  what  the  Cross  of  Calvary  is  by  the 
cross  in  your  own  soul.  You  become  an  initiate  of  Christianity 
by  the  Christian  experience,  and  by  that  alone. 

Though  Christ  in  Joseph's  town 

A  thousand  times  were  born, 
Till  He  is  born  in  thee 

Thy  soul  is  still  forlorn. 
The  Cross  on  Golgotha 

Can  never  save  thy  soul ; 
The  cross  in  thine  own  heart 

Alone  can  make  thee  whole. 

It  is  here,  in  the  cross  of  holy,  sacrificing  love  in  God,  in  the 
cross  of  holy  sacrificing  love  in  your  own  soul,  that  you  reach 
the  world's  deepest  secret,  that  you  find  the  heart  of  things.1 

God  draws  a  cloud  over  each  gleaming  morn. 
Wouldst  thou  ask,  why  ? 
It  is  because  all  noblest  things  are  born 
In  agony. 

Only  upon  some  Cross  of  pain  or  woe 

God's  Son  may  lie. 

Each  soul  redeemed  from  self  and  sin  must  know 

Its  Calvary.2 

Let  us  look  first  at  Simon's  opportunity,  how  it  came  and  how 
he  received  it,  and  then  at  his  great  gain. 

I. 

SIMON'S  UNEXPECTED  OPPORTUNITY. 

1.  The  whole  story  sounds  like  a  bit  of  romance.  We  might 
almost  say  that  it  was  a  chance  conversion.  What  moved  Simon 

1  J.  Brierley,  Faith's  Certainties,  69.  *  Frances  Power  Cobbe. 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE  435 

to  take  that  particular  turning  which  brought  him  to  Christ  and 
His  cross,  and  just  at  the  very  moment  he  was  needed  ?  For 
if  he  had  delayed  a  minute  or  two,  he  would  have  been  too  late. 
We  cannot  say.  He  is  like  the  man  mentioned  in  our  Saviour's 
parable,  who  was  walking  home  one  evening  across  the  fields, 
when  suddenly  he  noticed  a  place  where  the  rains  had  washed 
the  earth  away,  and  there  unexpectedly  found  a  treasure.  Simon, 
too,  found  that  day  something  he  had  never  expected  to  find, 
something  he  had  never  once  thought  of;  but  ever  after  it  was 
the  treasure  of  his  life. 

2.  Doubtless  to  Simon  this  encounter  seemed  at  the  moment 
the  most  unfortunate  incident  that  could  have  befallen  him — an 
interruption,  an  annoyance  and  a  humiliation ;  yet  it  turned  out 
to  be  the  gateway  of  life.  Thus  do  blessings  sometimes  come  in 
disguise,  and  out  of  an  apparition,  at  the  sight  of  which  we  cry 
out  for  fear,  may  suddenly  issue  the  form  of  the  Son  of  Man. 

Whatever  form  of  cross-bearing  is  laid  upon  us,  we  feel  at 
first  that  it  is  a  pressed  service,  a  compulsion  which  is  trying  and 
oppressive.  We  feel  the  pain  of  having  to  give  up  our  way 
and  to  have  our  liberty  restricted.  At  first  we  are  tilled  with 
resentment  against  the  gospel  of  Christ  for  spoiling  our  plans 
and  pleasures.  But  by  and  by,  as  God's  grace  works  in  us  and 
makes  us  willing,  the  service  that  we  most  hated  we  shall  learn 
most  to  love.  The  cross  that  crushed  us  to  the  earth  will  support 
us  and  lift  us  to  heaven.  The  things  that  seemed  against  us  we 
shall  find  working  together  for  our  good.  The  compulsion  of 
painful  circumstances  that  brought  us  to  Christ  will  issue  in 
richer  life  and  grander  liberty ;  and  the  constrained  service  will 
be  changed  into  a  lifelong  fidelity. 

U  In  a  letter  written  to  her  intimate  friend,  Miss  Lily 
Schlumberger,  Ad61c  Kamm  thus  refers  to  that  critical  time  when 
sh(!  presented  to  God  as  a  "willing  sacrifice"  the  ruin  of  her 
earthly  hopes: 

"  My  last  great  spiritual  conflict  took  place  at  Cannes,  when, 
after  a  trying  journey,  I  realized  that  I  must  remain  in  bed 
altogether,  that  the  longed-for  recovery  was  not  to  be,  and  when, 
to  crown  everything,  two  vertebrae  began  to  swell,  and  were  so 
painful  that  I  had  to  lie  on  my  back  entirely.  .  .  .  For  a  month  I 
was  just  about  as  rebellious  as  any  one  could  be,  and  I  used  to 


436  SIMON  OF  GYRENE 

cry  my  heart  out  every  night,  till  one  day  our  clergyman  sang  me 
a  beautiful  hymn  [by  Karre]  called  '  The  Cross '  ['  It  is  at  the 
Cross  that  the  way  begins '].  These  beautiful  words  touched  me. 
I  grew  calmer  as  I  meditated  on  the  sufferings  of  Jesus  Christ, 
which  were  so  much  greater  than  my  own,  and  were  borne 
willingly  out  of  love  to  us,  and  especially  as  I  thought  of  His 
sublime,  glorious  love  on  the  Cross.  Oh !  how  I  prayed  that  God 
would  help  me  to  accept  my  cross,  and  begin  a  new  life  of  pure 
love  to  God  and  man.  And  God  did  answer  me.  I  am  not  a  bit 
good,  not  in  the  least  what  I  ought  to  be,  but  these  dreadful 
conflicts  are  over,  and  for  a  whole  year  now  I  have  not  had  any 
of  those  dark  times  which  nearly  drove  me  to  despair,  when  a 
cloud  seemed  to  come  between  my  soul  and  God." 1 

3.  Simon's  experience  might  have  had  the  opposite  effect  from 
what  it  did  have,  and  he  might  have  cursed  in  his  heart  not  only 
the  soldiers  and  the  mob,  but  Christ  Himself,  the  innocent  cause 
of  his  misfortune,  and  sullenly  refused  to  think  of  Him  unless  as 
having  given  occasion  for  his  public  disgrace.  And  it  is,  alas ! 
true  that  cross-bearing  does  not  always  bring  blessing  with  it,  or 
lead  those  who  have  to  surfer  nearer  to  Christ,  but  rather  tends 
to  harden  their  hearts  against  God's  pleadings  with  them,  and  to 
make  them  sullen  and  defiant.  And  yet  it  is  clearly  one  of  God's 
ways — it  may  seem  to  us  a  very  roundabout  way — of  arresting 
us  when  we  are  going  on  our  own  paths ;  and  we  should  pray  to 
be  able  to  see  His  hand  in  it,  and  to  get  out  of  it  what  of  good 
and  blessing  He  intends  to  bring  to  us  by  it.  Simon  came  to  see 
that,  though  he  thought  that  day  he  was  bearing  the  cross  for 
Christ,  Christ  had  really  been  bearing  it  for  him.  And  so  what 
he  had  shrunk  from  as  a  disgrace  and  a  pain  he  welcomed  as  an 
honour  and  a  joy,  and  by  becoming  a  Christian  bore  his  Master's 
cross  all  his  life,  and  walked  by  His  side  not  only  for  a  few 
minutes  on  the  way  to  Calvary,  but  every  day  in  the  streets  of 
Cyreiie. 

*K  15th  April  1870. — Crucifixion  !  That  is  the  word  we  have 
to  meditate  to-day.  Is  it  not  Good  Friday  ?  To  curse  grief  is 
easier  than  to  bless  it,  but  to  do  so  is  to  fall  back  into  the  point 
of  view  of  the  earthly,  the  carnal,  the  natural  man.  By  what  has 
Christianity  subdued  the  world  if  not  by  the  apotheosis  of  grief, 
by  its  marvellous  transmutation  of  suffering  into  triumph,  of  the 

1  A  Living  Witness:  The  Life  of  Acttle  Kamm,  55. 


SIMON  OF  GYRENE  437 

crowu  of  thorns  into  the  crown  of  glory,  and  of  a  gibhot  into  a 
symbol  of  salvation  ?  What  does  the  apotheosis  of  the  Cross 
mean,  if  not  the  death  of  death,  the  defeat  of  sin,  the  beatification 
of  martyrdom,  the  raising  to  the  skies  of  voluntary  sacrifice,  the 
defiance  of  pain  ? — "  0  Death,  where  is  thy  sting  ?  0  Grave, 
where  is  thy  victory  ? " l 

H  Why  fearost  thou  to  take  up  the  Cross  which  leadeth  to  a 
kingdom  ?  In  the  Cross  is  salvation,  in  the  Cross  is  life,  in  the 
Cross  is  protection  against  our  enemies,  in  the  Cross  is  heavenly 
sweetness,  in  the  Cross  is  strength  of  mind,  in  the  Cross  joy  of 
spirit,  in  the  Cross  the  height  of  virtue,  in  the  Cross  the  perfec 
tion  of  holiness.  There  is  no  salvation  of  the  soul,  nor  hope  of 
everlasting  life,  save  in  the  Cross.  Take  up  therefore  thy  Cross 
and  follow  Jesus,  and  thou  shalt  go  into  life  everlasting.  He 
went  before,  bearing  His  Cross,  and  died  for  thee  on  the  Cross, 
that  thou  mayest  also  bear  thy  Cross  and  desire  to  die  on  the 
Cross  with  Him.  For  if  thou  be  dead  with  Him,  thou  shalt  also 
live  with  Him.  And  if  thou  be  a  partaker  of  His  sufferings  thou 
shalt  be  a  partaker  also  of  His  glory.  Behold  !  everything  de- 
pendeth  upon  the  Cross,  and  all  lieth  in  our  dying  thereon ;  for 
there  is  no  other  way  unto  life,  and  to  true  inward  peace,  but  the 
way  of  the  Holy  Cross,  and  of  daily  mortification.8 

Looking  back  along  life's  trodden  way, 

Gleams  and  greenness  linger  on  the  track; 
Distance  melts  and  mellows  all  to-day, 
Looking  back. 

Rose  and  purple  and  a  silvery  grey, 

Is  that  the  cloud  we  called  so  black  ? 

Evening  harmonizes  all  to-day, 
Looking  back. 

Foolish  feet  so  prone  to  halt  or  stray, 
Foolish  heart  so  restive  on  the  rack  I 
Yesterday  we  sighed,  but  not  to-day, 
Looking  back. 

4.  What  do  we  mean  by  cross-bearing  now  ?  Surely  he  bears 
the  cross  of  Christ  who  honestly  and  willingly  suffers  pain  or  loss 
in  order  to  further  in  the  world  that  for  which  Christ  died.  And 
if  He  died  that  the  weary  and  heavy-laden  should  be  raised  and 

1  Amvefs  Journal  (trans,  by  Mrs.  Humphry  Ward),  167. 
'Thomas  h  Keinpis,  The  Imitation  of  Christ,  chap.  xii. 


438  SIMON  OF  GYRENE 

cheered,  then  you  would  suppose  that  every  stooping  form  would 
be  touched  by  us  as  His  form,  and  every  burden  lightened  as  if  it 
were  part  of  the  weight  which  pressed  Him  down.  "  Daughters 
of  Jerusalem,  weep  not  for  me."  Thus  He  checked  the  tears  of 
idle  emotion — but  only  that  He  might  draw  out  a  deeper  depth 
of  action.  "  Inasmuch  as  ye  have  done  it,"  He  said,  "  unto  one  of 
the  least  of  these  my  brethren,  ye  have  done  it  unto  me." 

You  might  suppose  that  in  nineteen  centuries  Christians 
would  have  learned  this  simple  lesson  by  heart,  and  have  made 
the  lifting  of  human  sorrow  the  first  test  of  Christian  love.  But 
what  do  we  find?  We  find  that  in  that  long  past  which  lies 
behind  us  the  tragedy  of  the  Saviour's  cross  has  been  made  too 
much  a  spectacle,  a  moving  drama,  complete  and  apart,  and  too 
little  a  plan,  a  process,  continued  and  perfected  in  us.  "  It  is 
finished,"  He  cried.  But  the  work  of  the  cross  will  never  be 
finished  until  sorrow  and  sighing  have  fled  wholly  away.  His 
own  part  was  finished;  He  would  have  done  more  if  they  had 
suffered  Him  to  do  it ;  the  wooden  beams  were  unfastened,  laid 
aside,  and  the  very  site  of  the  cross  is  now  unknown ;  but  the  true 
cross,  of  which  that  other  was  but  an  emblem,  still  remains,  and 
is  loaded,  or  lightened,  for  Him  and  for  humanity,  as  we  do  our 
part  well  or  ill. 

If  Thomas  &  Kempis  ever  preaches  the  Cross  as  life's  great 
secret  and  underlying  fact.  Christ  is  to  him  the  perfect  example 
of  self-abandonment  and  oneness  with  God,  and  His  Cross  is  the 
universal  Cross.  His  victory  is  the  triumph  of  all  disciples  who 
live  in  Him.  While  the  mystic  generally  thinks  solely  or  mainly 
of  the  Incarnation,  Thomas  a  Kempis  never  forgets  the  Cross,  and 
thereby  at  once  he  safeguards  personality  as  well  as  preserves  his 
religion  from  ecstatic  excesses.  Dying  to  self  and  living  to  God 
— renouncing  self  and  regaining  self  in  the  holy  Jesus'  love,  are 
the  keynotes  of  his  message.  The  following  of  Jesus  is  to  him 
cross-bearing,  as  the  road  to  inner  consolation  and  peace.1 

If  That  was  a  great  word  which  Luther  spoke  when  he  told 
the  maidens  and  housewives  of  Germany  that  in  scrubbing  floors 
and  going  about  their  household  duties  they  were  accomplishing 
just  as  great  a  work  in  the  sight  of  heaven  as  the  monks  and 
priests  with  their  penances  and  holy  offices.  Indeed  it  had  been 
said  before  Luther,  and  by  a  woman.  Margery  Baxter,  the 

1  D.  Butler,  Thomas  d  Kempis,  133. 


SIMON  OF  GYRENE  439 

Lollardist  of  the  fifteenth  century,  had  the  pith  of  the  matter. 
"  If,"  she  said  to  her  sisters,  "  ye  desire  to  see  the  true  Cross  of 
Christ,  I  will  show  it  to  you  at  home  in  your  own  house."  Stretch 
ing  out  her  arms  she  said :  "  This  is  the  true  Cross  of  Christ,  thou 
mightest  and  mayest  behold  and  worship  in  thine  own  house ;  and 
therefore  it  is  but  vain  to  run  to  the  church  to  worship  dead 
Crosses."  In  a  word,  holiness  is  in  our  daily  service,  and  the 
holy  places  are  where  it  is  faithfully  done.1 

When  men  of  malice  wrought  the  crown  for  Thee, 

Didst  Thou  complain  ? 
Nay ;  in  each  thorn  God's  finger  Thou  didst  see, 

His  love  thro'  pain. 

His  finger  did  but  press  the  ripened  Vine, 

Thy  fruit  to  prove, 
That  henceforth  all  the  world  might  drink  the  wine 

Of  Thy  great  love. 

So  when  the  darkness  rose  about  Thy  feet 

Thy  lips  met  His, 
Amid  the  upper  light,  in  Death's  long  sweet 

Releasing  kiss. 

And  shall  I  cry  aloud  in  auger  when 

Men  make  for  me 
A  Cross  less  harsh  ?     Nay,  I'll  remember  then 

Thy  constancy. 

And  if  the  darkness  hide  me  from  Thy  sight 

At  God's  command, 
I'll  talk  with  Thee  all  thro*  the  prayerful  night, 

And  touch  Thy  hand  ; 

Greatly  content,  if  I  whose  life  has  been 

So  long  unwise, 
May,  wounded,  on  Thy  wounded  bosom  lean 

In  Paradise. 

II. 

SIMON'S  IMMEASURABLE  GAIN. 

1.  Surely  it  was  an  immeasurable  gain  to  Simon.     For  in  the 
first  place  this  rencontre  issued  in  his  salvation  and  in  the  salva- 
1  J.  Brierlcy,  Religion  and  To-Day,  194. 


44o  SIMON  OF  GYRENE 

tion  of  his  house.  The  Evangelist  calls  him  familiarly  "  the 
father  of  Alexander  and  Kufus."  Evidently  the  two  sons  were 
well  known  to  those  for  whom  St.  Mark  was  writing ;  that  is, 
they  were  members  of  the  Christian  circle.  And  there  can  be 
little  doubt  that  the  connexion  of  his  family  with  the  Church  was 
the  result  of  this  incident  in  the  father's  life.  St.  Mark  wrote  his 
Gospel  for  the  Christians  of  Rome ;  and  in  the  Epistle  to  the 
Romans  one  Rufus  is  mentioned  as  resident  there  along  with  his 
mother.  This  may  be  one  of  the  sons  of  Simon.  And  in  Acts  xiii.  1, 
one  Simeon — the  same  name  as  Simon — is  mentioned  along  with 
a  Lucius  of  Gyrene  as  a  conspicuous  Christian  at  Antioch :  he  is 
called  Niger,  or  Black,  a  name  not  surprising  for  one  who  had 
been  tanned  by  the  hot  sun  of  Africa.  Altogether,  we  have 
sufficiently  clear  indications  that  in  consequence  of  this  incident 
Simon  became  a  Christian.  It  would  have  been  contrary  both  to 
nature  and  to  grace  that  any  man  should  come  so  near  Jesus,  and 
should  do  so  much  for  Him,  and  not  be  called  into  His  Kingdom. 

^|  Canon  Carus  tells  how  the  verse  in  St.  Luke's  Gospel  refer 
ring  to  Simon  of  Cyrene  proved  a  finger  of  light  once  to  Simeon 
of  Cambridge.  "  At  an  early  period  of  his  ministry,  and  when  he 
was  suffering  severe  opposition,  he  was  in  much  doubt  whether  it 
was  his  duty  to  remain  in  Cambridge.  ...  He  opened  his  little 
Greek  Testament,  as  he  thought  and  intended  in  the  Epistles, 
and,  finding  the  book  upside  down,  he  discovered  he  was  in  the 
Gospels,  and  his  finger  on  Luke  xxiii.  26,  '  They  laid  hold  on  one 
Simon  (Simeon),  and  on  him  they  laid  the  cross,'  etc.  '  Then,'  said 
Mr.  Simeon,  '  lay  it  on  me,  Lord,  and  I  will  bear  it  for  Thy  sake 
to  the  end  of  my  life ;  and  henceforth  I  bound  persecution  as  a 
wreath  of  glory  round  my  brow.' " 1 

I  saw  a  Cross  of  burning  gold 
And  jewels  glorious  to  behold: 

Over  it  a  golden  crown, 
All  the  people  falling  down. 

I  saw  an  ugly  Cross  of  wood, 
On  it  there  were  stains  of  blood: 

Over  it  a  crown  of  thorn, 
Plaited  for  the  people's  scorn. 
1  J.  Moffatt,  The  Gospel  of  St.  Luke,  154. 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE  441 

Cross  of  gold,  no  fruit  was  thine, 
Nothing  but  the  empty  shrine. 

Cross  of  wood,  thou  living  tree, 
The  true  Vine  clung  fast  to  thee.1 

2.  But  St.  Mark  tells  us  at  the  same  time  that  Simon's  reward 
was  greater  than  the  saving  of  his  own  soul.  It  was  the  answer 
of  his  most  instant  and  constant  and  urgent  prayers.  Away  in 
Gyrene  this  pilgrim  to  the  Holy  City  had  left  two  little  sons,  and 
as  he  looked  upon  them,  exiles  from  the  land  of  Israel,  as  he 
taught  them  the  fear  of  the  God  of  Jacob,  the  very  passion  of  his 
heart  was  distilled  into  prayer,  that  they  might  grow  in  the  faith 
and  obedience  of  God.  Christ  read  the  heart  of  His  cross-bearer  as 
he  walked  by  His  side.  He  saw  the  names  Kufus  and  Alexander 
graven  on  Simon's  heart.  And  the  great  reward  was  given  to 
Simon  of  seeing  both  his  sous  known  and  loved  and  honoured  in 
the  Church  of  Christ 

^[  It  is  not  given  to  every  man  of  God  to  have  his  sons  follow 
in  his  steps.  So  many  influences  may  bear  in  upon  the  impres 
sionable  heart  of  youth,  that  a  father's  counsel  may  remain 
unheeded,  and  a  father's  example  be  scorned.  But  no  man  shall 
ever  bear  the  cross  of  Christ  without  reaping  a  reward  in  his 
children.  In  the  brave  Disruption  days  in  Scotland,  of  which  1 
may  speak  without  heat  or  passion  (for  whatever  be  your  judgment 
on  the  cause,  there  is  no  man  who  does  not  honour  the  deed), 
there  were  men  who  bore  the  cross  after  Jesus.  Not  only,  and 
not  chiefly,  by  those  in  the  ranks  of  the  ministry,  who  found  fame 
shining  on  the  path  of  sacrifice,  but  by  many  in  obscure  homes 
the  stern  cross  was  accepted.  By  costly  sacrifice,  by  long  years 
of  patient  self-denial,  by  the  enduring  of  scorn  and  the  suffering 
of  loss,  these  men  and  women  followed  Christ.  They  left  behind 
them  the  house  of  prayer  round  which  their  dead  were  lying; 
they  stood  on  the  moors  in  the  bitter  winter  blasts  of  1844,  and 
by  the  sea-shore,  where  their  psalms  were  mingled  with  the  hoarse 
chant  of  the  waves;  they  refused  emolument  and  advantage  for 
conscience'  sake ;  they  poured  with  unstinting  hand  the  gilts  of 
their  poverty  into  the  common  cause ;  they  turned  their  faces 
from  friendships  it  broke  their  hearts  to  lose — they  bore  the  cross 
of  Christ.  And  mark  their  reward.  Their  children  to-day  stand 
strong  in  the  faith  and  devotion  of  Christ,  their  sons'  names  arc? 

1  Mary  E.  Coleridge. 


442  SIMON  OF  CYRENE 

loved  and  honoured  in  the  Church ;  they  are  loyal  to  every  cause 
which  promotes  the  righteousness  of  the  people.  When  you 
question  them  they  will  tell  you  that  their  faith  was  kindled  by 
their  father's  sacrifice.  He  bore  a  cross  for  Jesus.1 

3.  Before  we  leave  this  interesting  story,  there  is  one  lesson 
which  we  must  try  to  learn.  The  cross  which  Simon  helped  to 
carry  was  Christ's  cross,  not  his  own.  Can  we  do  the  same  ? 
Christ's  cross-bearing  is  not  over  yet;  after  nineteen  hundred 
years  He  is  still  carrying  it ;  and  somehow  we  cannot  but  think 
of  Him  as  continually  tired  and  needing  help.  We  think  of 
Christ  as  crucified,  and  we  push  Him  far  back  from  us,  and  speak 
as  if  the  pain  of  the  cross  were  gone  from  Him  for  ever  and  He 
were  now  peaceful  and  happy  evermore.  But  as  long  as  there  are 
sin  and  misery  in  the  world,  how  can  Christ  be  happy  ?  Every 
day  there  are  things  going  on  which  make  Him  miserable.  That 
is  a  strong  word  to  use,  but  knowing  Christ  as  we  do,  can  we  use 
any  other  ?  We  can  help  Him  to  bear  His  cross.  We  can  do 
something  to  relieve  the  sin  and  the  wretchedness  beside  which 
we  live ;  and  in  relieving  it  we  are  making  Christ's  cross  easier 
for  Him  to  bear. 

H  Intimacy  with  Christ  must  begin,  for  the  sinner,  by  being 
a  fellowship  with  His  sufferings.  And,  indeed,  there  is  no  other 
way.  As  no  man  can  come  to  the  Father  but  by  Christ,  so  no 
man  can  come  to  Christ  but  by  the  path  of  those  sufferings  by 
which  He  put  Himself  on  the  level  of  sinners.  The  Cross  is  the 
doorway  through  which  he  must  pass." 

^|  To  his  sister  Maria,  Mr.  Denny  wrote  from  Buenos  Ayres  a 
few  weeks  before  his  tragic  death : 

"  The  Cross  of  Christ  is  no  longer  to  you  the  symbol  of  a 
bargain  between  a  vindictive  Deity  and  a  self-sacrificing  Deity, 
between  the  individual  and  selected  soul  and  the  Trinity,  but  the 
expression  of  the  great  truth  of  life  that  self-renunciation,  the 
way  of  the  Cross,  is  the  only  pathway  in  spiritual  life,  and  that 
not  as  a  duty  or  a  trial,  but  as  the  only  means  of  freedom,  hope, 
and  joy.  People  will  tell  you  Buddha  taught  this,  and  that  all 
the  ascetics  have  taught  the  same ;  but  their  teaching  was  not 
like  Christ's.  They  wanted  to  kill  self,  an  impossible  feat.  He 
meant  the  self  to  be  lost  in  love  for  others,  and  devotion  to  them ; 

1  W.  M.  Clow,  The  Day  of  the  Cross,  165. 

2  A.  Chandler,  The  Cult  of  the  Passing  Moment,  92. 


SIMON  OF  CYRENE  443 

that  by  the  miracle  of  spiritual  life  the  lost  self  should  return  on 
the  great  spiral  of  progress  to  its  old  point  in  the  plane,  but  to 
such  elevation  in  height  that  it  shines  clothed  with  immortality, 
and  light,  and  love  as  with  the  garments  of  God's  kingdom.  This 
was  the  joy  that  was  set  before  Him.  This  is  the  unhoped, 
unexpected  joy  set  before  our  dim  eyes."1 

Now  with  wan  ray  that  other  sun  of  Song 
Sets  in  the  Weakening  waters  of  my  soul : 

One  step,  and  lo !  the  Cross  stands  gaunt  and  long 
'Twixt  me  and  yet  bright  skies,  a  presaged  dole. 

Even  so,  0  Cross !  thine  is  the  victory. 

Thy  roots  are  fast  within  our  fairest  fields ; 
Brightness  may  emanate  in  Heaven  from  thee, 

Here  thy  dread  symbol  only  shadow  yields. 

Of  reaped  joys  thou  art  the  heavy  sheaf 

Which  must  be  lifted,  though  the  reaper  groan ; 

Yea,  we  may  cry  till  Heaven's  great  ear  be  deaf, 
But  we  must  bear  thee,  and  must  bear  alone. 

Vain  were  a  Simon  ;  of  the  Antipodes 

Our  night  not  borrows  the  superfluous  day. 

Vet  woe  to  him  that  from  his  burden  flees, 
Crushed  in  the  fall  of  what  he  cast  away.* 

1  A.  B.  Rrnoe,  Lift  of  William  Denny,  480. 
1  Frauds  Thumpsou,  Ude  to  tlu  Setting  #u*.