Library of The Theological Seminary 
 
 PRINCETON - NEW JERSEY 
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 PRESENTED BY 
 
 Malcolm 0. Young 
 
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JESUS 
 AND THE JURY 
 
 A living Faith for Living Men 
 
 ASHLEY DAY LEAVITT 
 
 Minister of Harvard Church 
 Brookline, Massachusetts 
 
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 THE PILGRIM PRESS 
 BOSTON CHICAGO 
 

 
 . Coprriaut, 1925 
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JESUS AND THE JURY 
 
 I 
 
 At the age of thirty Jesus crossed the threshold 
 from the quiet years of preparation into his 
 public ministry. At that time he had a deep 
 conviction about himself and the,work he was 
 to do which few if any shared. Just what form 
 that conviction took at first, and the steps by 
 which it grew through the years of his public 
 life, may not be clearly set forth. It must 
 have been present in some significant measure 
 at the beginning. Something impelled him to 
 set out on his mission. He who was to say, 
 ‘Ye have heard that it was said by them of old 
 time . . . But I say unto you,” carried a con- 
 viction of authority in spiritual matters that 
 
 presumed a peculiar relation with God. 
 
inde) 
 
 Would that authority ever be evident to other 
 men? John, in truth, was to introduce him in 
 the exalted terms of his own belief, but there 
 was no reception committee to greet him, no 
 eager band of followers awaiting his leadership 
 on his own terms. ‘Neither did his brethren 
 
 y] 
 
 believe in him,” is a statement that appears 
 in the record. 
 
 Think of Jesus, then, beginning his work, 
 when the very reason for it, and the basis of 
 it, was a belief about himself which he held 
 practically alone. His work was to be far 
 more difficult than to teach certain truths in 
 which he believed. He must awaken a belief 
 in himself which would give him the spiritual 
 leadership and authority which he claimed. 
 The truth which he was to teach was not like 
 the truth of a mathematical proposition which 
 could stand regardless of the character of the 
 man who taught it. His spiritual teaching was 
 to center in his personality. His mission was 
 
 not merely to reveal a truth, show a way, 
 
aw 
 
 declare a life. He must make men see that 
 he was the way, the truth, and the life. 
 
 This was the supreme test of his life. It 
 was not a lesson which he could teach by word, 
 and which men could learn by rote. Men 
 must see it, feel it, and believe in it with a 
 sincere, spontaneous conviction which should 
 
 be their very own. 
 
II 
 
 One of the most significant things which he 
 did at the very outset of his public ministry 
 was to call a group of twelve men about him. 
 There are evidences that he chose these twelve 
 men deliberately with a great deal of care. To 
 one and another he said, ‘‘Follow me.” They 
 obeyed his call, knowing little about him, and 
 having no clear conviction as to what he was 
 and what he was about. 
 
 Jesus’ calling of the twelve may be described 
 as merely the gathering of a number of pupils, 
 whom he was to instruct in the truth he desired 
 to give to the world. Thus he would make 
 them his helpers while he lived, and his suc- 
 cessors to carry on his work after he had gone. 
 But there is a deeper significance than such a 
 description brings out, in his gathering this 
 
 group to live with him in closest intimacy. 
 
[7] 
 
 In calling the twelve, Jesus really impaneled 
 a jury. He proceeded to live the evidence of 
 his faith before them. He sought to win 
 from them a verdict in support of his exalted 
 claims. 
 
 There is first the interesting coincidence that 
 the number of his disciples was twelve, just the 
 number of men on whose judgment we have 
 long been accustomed to rely in all capital cases 
 at court. There seems to be no account as to 
 why there are twelve men in the traditional 
 jury. Why not ten, or fifteen? It may be 
 that Jesus himself popularized that number and 
 gave it a real significance in the opinion of man- 
 kind. Whatever its origin, it has come to be 
 accepted as offering just the right possibilities 
 of variety and diversity in point of view to in- 
 sure a competent judgment. When a unani- 
 mous verdict of twelve men has been won, 
 it would seem that the matter in question 
 has been settled. There is no need to go 
 further. 
 
[ 8 ] 
 
 The coincidence in the matter of number in 
 case of the disciples and a standard jury is on 
 the whole superficial. There are other and 
 
 more striking parallels in the situation. 
 
[9] 
 
 Ill 
 
 As we consider the personnel of the group 
 which Jesus called about him, we must be con- 
 vinced that it was an ideal jury. It is just the 
 kind of a jury that would be sought in any 
 modern instance, where a life or a reputation 
 might be at stake. The men whom Jesus chose 
 were average men from the ordinary walks of 
 life. They were all of them seriously occupied 
 with the business of living. There were a few 
 fishermen, small tradesmen. ‘There were prob- 
 ably artisans of one kind and another. There 
 was one man who held a small public office. 
 Let us call the roll of this interesting group of 
 men who were to sit in judgment in the most 
 important case ever presented to a jury for 
 their verdict. 
 
 The first, Simon, who was called Peter, and 
 Andrew his brother; James the son of Zebedee, 
 
Litony 
 
 and John his brother; Philip and Bartholomew; 
 Thomas, and Matthew the publican; James 
 the son of Alphzeus, and Thaddeus; Simon the 
 Cananean, and Judas Iscariot. How signifi- 
 cant it is to call this list of names! A name is 
 a personal thing. It stands for individuality. 
 The Bible is a book of names, filled with stories, 
 not of men, but of this particular man and 
 that, expressing the force and flavor of distinct 
 personalities. Here were twelve real men | 
 who, considering the walks of life from which 
 they came, the wide practical experience they 
 had, were sure to bring to the problem before 
 them a capacity for the truest kind of judgment. 
 
 In his essay on popular culture, John Morley 
 refers to an old saying, that ‘‘It is the end and 
 aim of the British constitution to get twelve 
 honest men in a box.”’ Of course it is the end 
 and aim of the constitution of any enlightened 
 people to preserve for them their inalienable 
 rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happi- 
 
 ness. For the most part this work is done con- 
 
lee Sieg 
 structively without any thought of the need or 
 uses of a jury. 
 
 It is assumed that these rights will be pro- 
 tected and extended. But the point is that 
 when the rights of any man are attacked, or 
 when he may stand in jeopardy for his life and 
 liberty, then the bulwark of justice is the judg- 
 ment of twelve good men and true. To such 
 a group the appeal.is made and even the law 
 waits on their verdict. 
 
 What is the point of the jury, and of such 
 juries as are proverbially sought in cases where 
 life and liberty may be involved? It is that 
 the truest and best judgment that may be 
 obtained is the verdict of men whose point of 
 view is not that of the specialist or the tech- 
 nical expert, but that of the man who sees life 
 whole from the standpoint of his own first- 
 hand experience in the business of living. 
 
 The specialist as a rule has narrowed his 
 study of life to one particular phase. He 
 probably knows that phase better than any 
 
[ 12 | 
 
 jury of average men that could be assembled. 
 But we feel sure that he is apt to be detached, 
 and cannot see things in true proportion. He 
 can do many things well. His services are 
 always needed. When it comes, however, to 
 judgment on such questions as the truth of 
 statement, the sincerity of motives and the 
 integrity of character, the civilized world passes 
 by the expert and seeks the opinion of ordinary 
 men. By ordinary men we simply mean those 
 who are living in all of life’s normal relation- 
 ships. They do not know theories of life. 
 They do know the facts of living. Their judg- 
 ment between right and wrong will often be an 
 intuitive judgment, — a feeling about the truth, 
 born of a practical knowledge of the value in 
 
 all of life’s vital phases. 
 
[ 13 ] 
 
 IV 
 
 Ir has often been suggested that the time 
 will come when small bodies of experts will take 
 the place of the traditional jury in judging the 
 character of men on trial. That day is long 
 distant. Today the experts are merely allowed 
 to testify before a jury. Even that occasions 
 misgivings. Usually, as many can be massed 
 on one side as on the other, whether the ques- 
 tion be about brainstorms, complexes, or the 
 relation of endocrines to moral responsibility. 
 It is still held to be wise, after the learned spe- 
 cialists have spoken, to let the jury decide how 
 much truth there is in what has been said. 
 
 _ Were your life at stake, were your character 
 on trial you would not present your case for 
 vindication to experts and specialists. You 
 would use their help, but for final judgment you 
 
 would pass them by. So far as you could trust 
 
[ 14 ] 
 
 such an issue to any men, you would seek 
 men who, out of a serious experience in living, 
 would carry every question of the truth or 
 falsity of speech or action, your own or the wit- 
 nesses against and for you, back to the field of 
 their own first-hand knowledge of life. Such 
 men Jesus chose. Such men are chosen today 
 when men come to judgment. 
 
 When we come down to it, back of every 
 other issue which those men had to weigh was 
 the question of the plain honesty of Jesus. 
 The men who came in contact with Jesus never 
 questioned his ability. He knew what he was 
 saying and doing. His sincerity in saying and 
 doing what he did was clearly the point at 
 issue. Jesus was to bear witness concerning 
 himself. Was he a reliable witness? He made 
 extraordinary claims about his truth. Was he 
 telling the truth? 
 
 This is a point which many of those who can- 
 not accept Jesus on his own terms seem to miss 
 
 altogether. There are those who ignore or 
 
[19 J 
 
 deny certain of his claims and still profess to 
 respect him. They even call him in as an 
 authority in matters where they do agree with 
 him. 
 
 The contemporaries of Jesus who denied his 
 claims did not shrink from the inevitable alter- 
 native. They called him false. ‘‘He deceiveth 
 the people.” Thus the enemies of Jesus were 
 more honest than some of his self-styled friends 
 of later years. There can be little doubt that 
 when Jesus was personally present he forced 
 - this issue. Any man would force that issue. 
 
 Granted Jesus’ unusual ability and his ex- 
 traordinary capacity for clear judgment, then 
 the question of his fundamental honesty be- 
 comes one of the greatest significance. We 
 might hesitate over the capacity of the jury 
 Jesus drew to interpret for us every phase of 
 the truth he taught. We must feel that no 
 better judgment could ever be found as to the 
 integrity of his life and purpose. 
 
[ 16 | 
 
 V 
 
 Stitt another parallel in this story of the 
 jury is the fact that Jesus did seek a verdict 
 from his disciples. The evidence was pre- 
 sented in a remarkable way. Most juries re- 
 view situations after something has happened, 
 or scenes are reenacted before them by the men 
 who plead. The jury in Jesus’ case was on 
 hand in the original situation. They followed 
 and lived through the real scenes when he was 
 demonstrating the truth or the falsity of his 
 amazing claims. 
 
 It is not fanciful to say that Jesus worked 
 for a verdict from his disciples. Most of the 
 things he did in the quiet demonstration of his 
 faith were done before them rather than di- 
 rectly to them. They were on hand to see and 
 to hear. He did not declare to them, ‘This is 
 
 the truth about me, which you must accept.”’ 
 
Fee 
 He never tried to force them. He did try to 
 lead them along the ways of understanding. 
 Again and again with an appealing modesty he 
 sought to read their hearts to see whether the 
 conviction which he wanted to find was yet 
 dawning within them. 
 
 When many of his followers were turning 
 their backs on him, he said to the twelve, ‘‘Will 
 ye also goaway?” How tensely he must have 
 waited for the reply. On another occasion he 
 said, ‘‘Who do men say that Iam?’ He did 
 not care about that. It was only his hesitating 
 way of coming to the point about which he did 
 eare. ‘‘Who say ye that Iam?’ That is the 
 whole spirit of his dealing with the twelve. 
 Not, “I say I am this or that’’; but, ‘‘Who 
 say ye that I am?” 
 
 On this occasion he received from Peter a 
 reply that thrilled his soul, and set him exult- 
 ing. He saw his work established, and the 
 continuance of that work assured because an- 
 
 other man had at least glimpsed the conviction 
 
19. 
 
 that he had about himself. It was the fact 
 that Peter saw it, and the certainty that he 
 would sometime see it more clearly, and that 
 they all would see it, that set his cause on foun- 
 dations like rock. Surely if this inspired con- 
 viction could come to Peter, it would come to 
 others, and the gates of hell could never pre- 
 vail against the faith he had brought to men. 
 
 Peter’s glimpse of the truth was just a flash. 
 It was premature. The verdict was not yet 
 positive or unanimous. Jesus charged the 
 twelve to say nothing more about it. More 
 evidence must be lived and given. 
 
 That jury made the remarkable record of 
 following the case for three years before they 
 reached the final verdict. Not all the evidence 
 they heard was favorable. They heard men 
 say that he was a gluttonous man and a wine- 
 bibber, a man in league with the devil, one who 
 deceived the people, that he was guilty of most 
 awful blasphemy, a traitor, one worthy of 
 death. 
 
[ 19 | 
 
 The case was, in fact, seemingly taken out of 
 their hands by a mob. Jesus was seized, 
 arrested, and tried before another court, of 
 ecclesiastical experts this time, condemned and 
 put to death. All through this period they had 
 no clear, courageous conviction about him. 
 But all this was part of the evidence. It was 
 the summing up, the final demonstration of his 
 worth or worthlessness. When we consider the 
 character of the verdict they rendered, we shall 
 have to include in the evidence the remarkable 
 experiences they themselves relate that came to 
 them after Jesus’ death. It was then that their 
 groping judgment was crystallized into power- 
 
 ful conviction. 
 
[ 20 ] 
 
 VI 
 
 Tue twelve reached a verdict. It would be ~ 
 a pity to try to reduce that verdict to a state- 
 ment. No words signifying that Jesus is this 
 or that can come anywhere near representing 
 the character and power of the conviction which 
 flamed in them at the conclusion of this re- 
 markable case. They tried to put it into words. 
 They claimed everything for this man with 
 whom they had lived in unique relations for 
 these three years. But it is the testimony of 
 their lives which is most convincing. Their 
 verdict was not a reasoned statement, but a 
 living demonstration. It is the only sort of 
 verdict that ever counts in connection with 
 Jesus. 
 
 One is tempted to say that their verdict was 
 unanimous. Poor Judas with his tragic sui- 
 
 cide, and his “I have betrayed innocent blood,” 
 
[ 21 | 
 
 all but made it unanimous. A man like Judas 
 does not kill himself because of some trifling 
 mistake in judgment. What he saw in Jesus 
 at the end made his act of betrayal impossible 
 to bear. There have been other betrayers of 
 Jesus, but who has ever shown a profounder 
 remorse? | 
 
 There was one impressive difference in the 
 verdict they rendered which lifts it above the 
 usual conclusions of juries. Always, when 
 juries render a verdict they are through with 
 the case. They are free to go back to their 
 homes and attend to their business, to enjoy 
 again the comforts of normal life. When this 
 great jury rendered its verdict, the men who 
 composed it had really just begun with the 
 case. They proceeded to back their verdict 
 with their lives, displaying a marvelous devo- 
 tion to the cause of the man they had vindi- 
 cated. 
 
 They had had an extraordinary experience 
 
 with a remarkable person. He had changed 
 
[ 22 | 
 
 their thinking. He had made God real to 
 them in entirely new terms. He had brought 
 them to see new meanings in life. In short, 
 he had brought life to them. They felt it all 
 to be the most wonderful experience that could 
 come to men. They were irrepressibly grate- 
 ful for it. They set out to pass it on to others 
 with the passion of men who have found a 
 longed-for cure or have discovered a long-sought 
 promised land. 
 
 It would be interesting to call the roll of 
 that jury, and to hear from each the story of 
 all that was done in witness of the sincerity 
 of their faith in Jesus. Probably all of them 
 gave their entire lives with a full measure of 
 heroic effort to advance the cause in which 
 they believed so profoundly. ‘Tradition has it 
 that many of them crowned years of courageous 
 witnessing with the supreme sacrifice of life 
 itself, happy to add what weight that sacrifice 
 might be to their compelling faith. 
 
 Who would not covet such a verdict? Just 
 
[ 23 ] 
 
 such a judgment has never been rendered in 
 any other case. Were they not twelve good 
 men and true? Think again what kind of men 
 they were. Practical men of the hard-working 
 type. They had been brought up in the school 
 of shrewd bargaining. They knew the value of 
 commodities in the market. They knew the 
 worth of money. They must have had large 
 experience with knaves and charlatans. They 
 were not men to throw away the meager com- 
 forts of life for a dream or an idea. They came 
 slowly and painfully to the conclusions that 
 finally gripped them. Then they gave up 
 everything and devoted their whole lives to 
 prove how much they meant what they said. 
 
 Does any one imagine that any appeal could 
 ever have induced them to reconsider their 
 verdict? Can any one imagine that any kind of 
 evidence known to modern doubt or skepti- 
 cisms could ever have made them reverse their 
 verdict? No wonder that Jesus was willing to 
 stake all his hopes on the kind of faith he 
 
[ 24] 
 
 sought to evoke from such men as he knew 
 them to be. 
 
 He rested his case with them, and ever since 
 their time his case has rested with such as they 
 were. Paul once wrote ‘‘that not many wise 
 men after the flesh, not many mighty, not many 
 noble, are called.”’ Before we think that such 
 words (and they do recite the facts of the his- 
 tory of Christ’s cause) belittle the power of his 
 appeal, let us remember it is just such judgment 
 that any one of us would seek in any of the 
 
 vital issues of justice and truth. 
 
[ 25 ] 
 
 VII 
 
 Ir might seem to be the obvious conclusion 
 to this story that the appeal of Jesus will al- 
 ways seek out and attract only the common 
 men and women, a phrase that will never lack 
 beauty and dignity since it was said that ‘‘the 
 common people heard him gladly.” 
 
 We are not left, however, solely with the 
 thought of a distinction between one class of 
 people and another. The distinction reaches 
 into our individual lives. In every one of us 
 there is the common man, the human being, 
 seriously concerned with the business of living, 
 feeling his kinship with all mankind. This man 
 has the normal hopes and aspirations common 
 to all who live genuinely. He has a feeling for 
 justice, an instinct for truth. He wants things | 
 to be right, and in a common-sense sort of a 
 
 way believes that sometime he will find that 
 
[ 26 ] 
 
 they are right if he only acts according to the 
 best he knows. He is not fooled by pretense 
 either in himself or in others. 
 
 It is at the same time true that we are edu- 
 cated away from this more human view and 
 feeling about things. The most carefully trained 
 mind may help tremendously in the business of 
 real living. It also has its perils. It may set 
 itself up as an expert, and usurp all the right to 
 judge. It may check the instinctive hopes 
 and convictions that are more a matter of in- 
 tuition or affection; and because it fails to 
 see the proof it demands, refuse to the rest 
 of the life the freedom to express itself in the 
 faith that attracts it like an inspiration from 
 
 heaven. 
 Sidney Lanier apostrophized his own genera- 
 
 tion in these rather tragic words, 
 
 “O Age that half believ’st thou half believ’st, 
 Half doubt’st the substance of thine own half doubt, 
 And, half perceiving that thou half perceiv’st, 
 Stand’st at thy temple door, heart in, head out!” 
 
[ 27 | 
 
 The situation which Lanier describes in that 
 last line is unfortunate, and may be very un- 
 happy. But it is not as unhappy as the situa- 
 tion that usually prevails when there is a de- 
 bate between the head and the heart. A half- 
 believing, half-doubting, half-perceiving head 
 often will not let the heart go into the temple 
 at all. It bars the way, it keeps the life back 
 from any act of worship so long as it is not 
 satisfied with all the evidences of faith. 
 
[ 28 | 
 
 VIil 
 
 THERE is nothing right or reasonable in di- 
 recting our lives that way. There is a saying 
 of Chesterton that, while it is commonly said 
 that the insane person is one who has lost his 
 reason, as a matter of fact the insane person 
 is one who has lost everything but his reason. 
 He is more likely to be one who has kept his 
 reason, but has lost his love, his humor, his 
 sense of proportion, and all the checks, balances, 
 and guides which the reason needs. 
 
 The doubting and perplexed head should not 
 only let the heart go into the temple, it ought 
 to accompany it there, and wait reverently and 
 with eager interest through the heart’s devo- 
 tions. There will be food for thought, new 
 clues to a truer understanding, as the reason 
 follows the instinctive judgments of the soul. 
 It. need not follow dumbly, but as the ally of 
 
[ 29 | 
 
 faith to articulate and interpret what God may 
 reveal. 
 
 All the problems concerning Jesus were not 
 settled for the disciples as they entered into 
 their heroic work to make him known every- 
 where. But meanwhile they were bound to 
 him by a devotion that never wavered. Prob- 
 lems enough awaited their heads, striving to 
 keep pace with the daring visions and judg- 
 ments of their faith. There is no real trouble 
 in that. All men need the stimulus that comes 
 from the challenge of perplexing and seemingly 
 baffling questions. He who will not let his 
 heart get out in front of his head lives on the 
 . shores of a dead sea, where, if the tide never 
 ebbs away, neither does it surge to the flood to 
 start him over new seas of discovery. 
 
 Our heads may always be perplexed. The 
 reasons for faith may never seem adequate or 
 clear. That is the stimulating atmosphere in 
 which we ought to live. But the heart need 
 
 not be troubled, if only we have the courage of 
 
[30%] 
 
 our convictions. Great phrase that! Courage 
 to render a verdict in accord with our convic- 
 tions, and then to follow through with all there 
 is of us to where that verdict leads. 
 
 It is a great saying of Bishop Gore that ‘a 
 man must be strong at the center before he can 
 be free at the circumference of his being.’ 
 You may think that in pledging your life ac- 
 cording to the convictions of your heart you 
 are making a slave of your mind. You are 
 not. You are setting it free. You are giving 
 it direction. Strong and loyal to the truth at 
 the center of your being, you can be the freest 
 of men in thought. The whole world of 
 thought, the universe itself will beckon you to 
 search out the hidden things. Meanwhile if 
 you have the courage of your convictions, your 
 
 heart need not be troubled. 
 
peeked 
 
 IX 
 
 EVERYONE knows Richard Watson Gilder’s 
 little poem which for some reason or other he 
 called ‘““The Song of a Heathen.” 
 
 “Tf 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. 
 
 “Tf 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!” 
 Probably Gilder called those verses ‘““The Song 
 of a Heathen” because he felt that by many 
 people it would be considered a very inadequate 
 profession of faith. Let us admit right here 
 that we are as often led wrong by the experts who 
 believe as by those who doubt. The latter will 
 not let us ‘cleave’ until full proof has been 
 
bese id 
 
 found for faith. The former will not let us 
 “follow”? until faith is expressed in certain 
 forms. 
 
 Gilder’s ‘Song of a Heathen” is an ideal 
 declaration of allegiance. Think of the tre- 
 mendous problems left to be solved. ‘‘Is Jesus 
 a man?’ “Ts Jesus Christ a God?” That 
 question may challenge the mind for many a 
 day, perhaps all one’s days. All expert knowl- 
 edge, every special resource may well be 
 brought to bear on that problem. 
 
 While these questions remain to be worked 
 
 over and worked out if possible, the matter of 
 
 greatest importance is settled courageously, | 
 
 splendidly. ‘“‘I will cleave to him,” and “T will 
 follow him,” in either case. Jesus accepted his 
 disciples on that basis. From that point, in 
 his actual company, it took them three years 
 to reach a positive verdict. If they had not 
 begun at that point, if they had not followed 
 him through those years when they did not 
 understand all, if they had not been held by a 
 
 
 
[233i 
 
 loyalty that had its roots deep among the in- 
 tuitions of their hearts, they never would have 
 come to their final verdict at all. 
 
 Let us remember that this inspired judgment 
 of the very human man is the soundest judg- 
 ment there is in all the world. It does not 
 mean giving way to the emotions. It is nota 
 matter of being influenced unduly by sentiment. 
 The fact is we may need to revise our whole 
 
 idea of what enters into a true judgment. 
 
344 
 
 x 
 
 It is one of the happy results of the new 
 spirit both in philosophy and science that the 
 intellect is being put in its place. It is a very 
 honorable place, but less than has often been 
 claimed for it. There is a great deal of truth 
 in this paragraph from a recent essay by G. A. 
 Studdert Kennedy: ‘The popular idea is that 
 men act upon reason and women act upon im- 
 pulse. The truth is that men act upon im- 
 pulse and discover an elaborate reason for it 
 afterwards, while women act upon impulse and 
 don’t bother about the reason at all.’ 
 
 Then he writes more seriously: ‘““We are not 
 born rational. We are born reasoning, which 
 is a very different thing.” A true rational 
 judgment in his mind must be the product of 
 genuine experience, and is bound to be affected 
 by the instincts and impulses that play a part 
 
 in experience. He maintains that ‘‘a sublime 
 
[ 35 | 
 
 and adequate religion’? can alone insure a 
 rational judgment in any vital matter. 
 
 Our truth-hunting adventures are not always 
 sincere. At least they are not serious enough. 
 There is no drive behind them, no compulsion 
 growing out of conscious need. There are to- 
 day people who are known as “parlor-com- 
 munists”’ and “pink socialists.” In comfor- 
 table places, far removed from the stress of 
 the economic conflict, they play with the theo- 
 ries of social revolution. For the real radical 
 who is living through the thing, and to whom 
 the injustices and inequalities of the social order 
 are terribly real, we can have only respect. 
 For the dilettante, content with “sipping the 
 nectar of experience while he keeps aloof from 
 its deeper interests,’ we have nothing but 
 contempt. 
 
 There are such people as parlor theologians 
 and pink Christians. There is no chance that 
 they will discover the truth, or know it if by 
 chance they happen upon it. The faith Jesus 
 
[ 36 | 
 
 gave to the world is a faith for living men. 
 One must have the sincerity and earnestness 
 begotten by a real experience in living if he is 
 to find any clue to the meaning of faith. 
 
 “Faith,” writes L. P. Jacks, “is neither a 
 substitute for reason nor an addition to it. 
 Faith is nothing else than reason grown cou- 
 rageous — raised to its highest power, expanded 
 to its widest vision. Its advent marks the 
 point where the hero within the man is getting 
 the better of the coward, where safety, as the 
 prime object of life, is losing its charm and 
 another object, hazardous but beautiful, dimly 
 seen but deeply loved, has begun to tempt the 
 awakened soul.” 
 
 ‘Another way of saying the same thing is 
 to name religion the ‘new birth’ of the soul. 
 But a new birth which, while changing all the 
 rest of the man, left his reason unchanged, 
 which turned all the rest of him into a hero, 
 but kept him still reasoning with a coward’s 
 
 logic, would not amount to very much.”’ 
 
Tac | 
 ‘‘Dimly seen but deeply loved.’”’ That surely 
 
 means an impulse of the whole life, eager to 
 live, dominating the reason with its enthusi- 
 
 asm and its purpose. 
 
[ 38 ] 
 
 XI 
 
 RECALL Jesus’ characteristic appeals, ‘‘Come 
 unto me, all ye that Jabor and are heavy laden.” 
 “They that be whole need not a physician; 
 but they that are sick.’”’ ‘I am not come to 
 call the righteous but sinners to repentance.”’ 
 Any one who knows Jesus’. mind knows that 
 there are no ‘‘righteous’’ who need no repent- 
 ance. It is impossible to escape the thinly 
 veiled irony in those words. Jesus could do 
 nothing for the men whose hands did not reach 
 out for help. 
 
 The Pharisees came to Jesus with their ques- 
 tion about the baptism of John. It was a 
 perfectly good question to which there was a 
 clear, true answer. But Jesus did not answer 
 it, because the questioners were not honestly 
 committed to obey the truth, whatever it 
 might be. 
 
[ 39 ] 
 
 In one of Basil King’s stories there is the 
 following interesting conversation between a 
 young man, seeking to solve a difficult prob- 
 lem, and an older man of whom he is seeking 
 counsel. 
 
 “ “The difficulty is,’ he said after a long 
 silence, ‘that it’s often hard to know what is 
 right.’ 
 
 ‘* “No, it isn’t.’ 
 
 “The flat contradiction brought a smile to 
 the young man’s lips, as they trudged onward. 
 
 ‘‘*A good many people say so.’ 
 
 “£4 good many people say foolish things. 
 It is hard to know what’s right chiefly when you 
 are not in a hurry to do it.’ 
 
 “ “But when you want to do it?’ 
 
 “*You will know what it is. There'll be 
 something to tell you.’ ... 
 
 “But doesn’t it happen that what you call 
 “something-to-tell you” tells you now and 
 then to do things that most people would call 
 
 rather wild or crazy?’ 
 
all. 
 
 to 
 
 [ 40 | 
 ‘*“T dare say.’ 
 “So then what?’ 
 ““*Then you do them.’ 
 “ “Oh, but’? — 
 ‘* “Tf there’s an ‘‘Oh, but,’ you don’t. That’s 
 
 the few chosen.’ ”’ 
 
 You belong to the many called, but not | 
 
[ 41 ] 
 
 XII 
 
 Ir all comes to this. Detached from the 
 business of living, we have no impulse to carry 
 us over into the truth when we see it. Faith 
 in Jesus is not a puzzle. It is nota game. It 
 will always be a problem for the mind. It is 
 first of all an answer to life. It takes the 
 whole of life, aroused to make the most of 
 itself, to recognize the beauty and truth of 
 that answer. 
 
 In every one of us there is the man who lives, 
 who learns from living, and to whom living is 
 the supreme adventure. In his contacts with 
 evil, before he has thought about evil in the 
 abstract and become busy with theories about 
 it, he instinctively feels that all evil is wrong, 
 hideous, in every form hostile to his soul. 
 When its stain is on his soul, he wants to be 
 
 cleansed as from something foul and dirty. 
 
42. 
 
 In his contest with evil, he knows he needs 
 help from some spirit that can lift him up. 
 Before him, always, he must have somewhere 
 the vision of a life pure and unspotted from 
 the world. 
 
 The man in us, to whom actual living is the 
 real thing, the divine and marvelous thing, this 
 man in his contact with sorrow, before he has 
 come to think much about the common lot of 
 men or any stoic philosophy has come to re- 
 press the protest of his soul, feels the poignant 
 heartbreak in sorrow. He feels instinctively 
 that there must be an answering pain in the 
 heart of God, believes that sorrow calls for a 
 comfort that is divine, and that all love denied 
 here must have its fulfilment in God’s eternity. 
 
 When a man gets away from his study and 
 mere thinking, and goes out into the thick of 
 life, then he responds to his fellows as brothers. 
 ‘Races,’ “‘lines,’ ‘‘threats of color’ depart 
 from his mind. Then he has the instinctive 
 
 democracy of a child. He sees himself in the 
 
[ 43 | 
 
 other man’s place and the other man in his 
 place. So he judges, if he must judge at all. 
 The world of men is a brotherhood, only poten- 
 tial as yet; but he is ready to acclaim the faith 
 that can furnish the key to world-wide friend- 
 liness. 
 
 While with his cautious mind a man thinks 
 about God, and his thoughts wander along 
 many a futile trail, the living man hungers and 
 thirsts for God. Alone, he believes he has a 
 Father somewhere. Homeless, he knows he has 
 a home. Out of his own need he is ready to 
 respond to the love of God when it calls. 
 
 It is not strange that hundreds of years 
 before Jesus lived certain men, living close to 
 their fellow men and the God they knew, made 
 predictions of One who was to come, that have 
 seemed supernatural in their character. They 
 had but to consider the needs of their own lives, 
 to read the story of the tragic failures and im- 
 potencies of mankind with the never-dying 
 
 dream of a life true and worthy; and then 
 
[ 44 | 
 project their thoughts, inspired by faith, along 
 
 the lines thus noted, to see them all converge | 
 in the revelation God must make of himself to 
 redeem and establish the life he had created. 
 
 Before ever he came Jesus was prophesied 
 out of the life of mankind. He was demanded 
 as a symbol and an inspiration by a life striving 
 to rise to higher levels. ‘These prophecies never 
 named the man, nor fixed the hour of his birth, 
 but when Jesus of Nazareth came he was seen 
 as the fulfilment of that prophecy. 
 
 Life that is real, life that will ‘‘dare the 
 vision,’ — its face turned persistently from the 
 clod, — asks such help from heaven; and be- 
 hold, when Jesus comes clearly into view, sees 
 in him the answer to its prayer. 
 
 So to the living, very human, very needy and 
 eager man in us, still close enough in touch with 
 God to receive those flashes that come not by 
 way of “flesh and blood,” Jesus appeals, I am 
 
 your way, your truth, your life. Follow me. 
 
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