«?fc^ PRINCETON, N. J. ^, 
 
 Division 3.^.2-4 2.0 
 Section ..^.^..^..11 
 
'i 
 
THE 
 
 LIFE OF LIVES 
 
 I 
 
 THE STORY OF JESUS OF NAZARETH i 
 
 IN ITS EARLIEST FORM ' 
 
©xforti 
 
 PRINTED BY HORACE HART, PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY 
 
THE 
 
 LIFE OF LIVES 
 
 THE STORY OF JESUS OF NAZARETH 
 IN ITS EARLIEST FORM 
 
 REV. W. S. LEWIS, M.A. 
 
 AUTHOR OF 'the GREAT PROBLEM, OR CHRISTIANITY AS IT IS,' ETC. 
 
 'This is Jesus, the King of the Jews.' — Matt, xxvii. 37. 
 
 THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY 
 
 56 PATERNOSTER ROW, AND 65 ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD 
 
 1885 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 The Field of Inquiry. 
 
 CHAPTER I. Its Special Interest 
 II. Its General Plan 
 
 PAGE 
 
 9 
 
 PART II. 
 
 The Appearance of Christ. 
 
 CHAPTER I. His Human Lineage . 
 ,, II. His Superhuman Origin 
 
 III. His Proper Rank . . 
 
 19 
 23 
 26 
 
 PART III. 
 
 The Ministry of Christ. 
 
 CHAPTER I. Its Solemn Opening . 
 
 „ II. Its Supreme Importance 
 
 „ III. Its Marked Unobtrusiveness 
 
 „ IV. Its Unexampled Authority . 
 
 ,, V. Its Unrivalled Power . 
 
 „ VI. Its Few Helps . 
 
 „ VII. Its Many Opponents . 
 
 ,, VIII. Its Singular Wisdom . 
 
 „ IX. Its Highest Point 
 
 33 
 
 38 
 42 
 46 
 54 
 63 
 69 
 
 77 
 83 
 
 i^ 
 
 B 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 II. 
 III. 
 
 PART IV. 
 
 The Passion of Christ. 
 
 A Change of Voice 
 
 , A Change of Attitude 
 
 . A Wide Conspiracy 
 
 IV. A Final Warning 
 
 V. A Final Prediction 
 
 VI. The Eve of Betrayal 
 
 VII. The Night of Betrayal 
 
 VIIL Unsullied Innocence 
 
 IX. Inscrutable Depths 
 
 X. Total Eclipse 
 
 rAGi-: 
 95 
 104 
 no 
 114 
 
 121 
 
 128 
 
 141 
 
 149 
 
 157 
 
 PART V. 
 
 The Re-appearance of Christ. 
 
 CHAPTER I. A Double Dawn 163 
 
 „ II. An Impossible Story 16S 
 
 „ III. An Eternil Work 173 
 
 PART VI. 
 The Summing Up 181 
 
PART I. 
 
 THE FIELD OF INQUIRY. 
 
 B a 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 
 ITS SPECIAL INTEREST. 
 
 What does the Gospel of St. Matthew, taken by 
 itself and considered as a whole, teach us about 
 Christ? In other words, what sort of ideal of Jesus 
 of Nazareth does it present to our thoughts ? 
 
 This inquiry is interesting on many accounts. 
 
 It is so, first, on account of the surpassing interest 
 of the subject discussed. All things considered, no 
 other name can be put in comparison with that of the 
 historical Christ. On this ground alone this Book of 
 St. Matthew's is deserving of special attention. If 
 a writer is worth hearing on any subject, he is worth 
 hearing on this. 
 
 The inquiry is interesting, in the next place, on 
 account of the position of the writer. Both as a 
 matter of reputation, and as a matter of fact, that 
 position — whoever he was — is unique. As a matter of 
 reputation, his treatise is almost universally regarded 
 as the very earliest of its sort. As a matter of fact, 
 no similar production has yet succeeded in establishing 
 so early a date. This doubles the interest of his 
 treatise. The first known Life of Christ possesses 
 the first claim on our thousfhts. 
 
lO THE FIELD OF INQUIRY. 
 
 The peculiar complexion of these nineteenth-century 
 times lends further interest to this inquiry. Amongst 
 the many conclusions of former ages which the courage 
 of this age has assailed, have been all past ideals of 
 Christ. Teacher after teacher has risen up of late to 
 set the world right on this point. In no case^ how- 
 ever, has the success of these authorities been equal 
 to their ambition. Their very multiplicity, on the 
 contrary, is a sufficient confession that they do not 
 satisfy one another. It is also, of course, a strong 
 additional inducement for reverting to the primary 
 view. Once more let us examine that ancient original, 
 on which it seems so difficult to improve. 
 
 Something may also be urged in favour of doing 
 so, on the score of comparative novelty and freshness. 
 This Gospel of St. Matthew has been examined 
 repeatedly in detail ; and almost word by word, as it 
 were. Wonderful is the amount of microscopical 
 attention which has been bestowed on it thus. Re- 
 peatedly, also, has this Gospel been considered in 
 combination with the subsequent three. Wonderful, 
 again, has been the amount of ingenuity expended in 
 endeavouring to turn these four histories into one. 
 But the same can hardly be affirmed of that method 
 of treatment which we now have in our eye. The 
 writers who have set themselves to treat this pioneer 
 Story of Christ rather by itself than as one of a 
 series, and rather as a whole than as a collection of 
 fragments, are not a numerous class. So examined, 
 
ITS SPECIAL INTEREST. II 
 
 therefore, it may not unreasonably be expected to 
 present us, even now, with fresh phases and truths. 
 As a matter of fact, indeed, no serious student of 
 Holy Scripture supposes that either of those other 
 two methods of examining the contents of this Gospel 
 have yet exhausted their stores. Much less, therefore, 
 this more, neglected, yet certainly not more difficult, 
 mode. 
 
 As a final reflection, it may be worth considering 
 that this is the more orderly plan. Whatever may 
 have come to pass since, this book of St. Matthew's 
 was not presented to mankind, in the first instance, as 
 one of a set. However great, also, its practical value 
 may be when handled as though little more than 
 a collection of fragments, it certainly was not so put 
 forward by the writer himself. Rather, at first, it 
 comes before us distinctly as a separate whole — quite 
 as much so, in fact, as, in a different region, does the 
 very orb of this earth. It is thus, therefore — so it 
 seems to follow — that we ought to deal with it first. 
 Before we do anything , else with it, we ought to 
 examine it as such a separate orb. 
 
 It is thus, accordingly, that we propose to deal with 
 it in the present inquiry. 
 
CHAPTER 11. 
 
 ITS GENERAL PLAN. 
 
 The most satisfactory survey of a country is that. 
 as a rule, which is most successful in allowing it to 
 exhibit itself. In no other way can we feel so assured 
 that it will appear to us as it is. 
 
 In dealing, therefore, with that important document 
 at present before us, we shall seek from the outset to 
 keep in view a similar rule. We shall endeavour 
 throughout to enable this Gospel to speak for itself. 
 
 If this endeavour should lead to a brevity of 
 treatment not always observable in some recent 
 biographies of the Prophet of Nazareth, we do not 
 know that such a result is to be altogether deplored. 
 In any case, it cannot rightly be helped. St. Matthew 
 himself is uniformly pertinent and concise. To be 
 discursive and diffuse, therefore, in dealing with him, 
 would be to misrepresent him throughout. 
 
 A more intricate point is the general view which 
 ought to be entertained of his book. In regard to 
 this point it seems especially important to be guided 
 by the writer himself. However artless in certain 
 respects his composition may appear, he must have 
 followed some kind of order in giving expression to 
 
ITS GENERAL PLAN. 1 3 
 
 his thoughts. If we know nothing of this, how can 
 we judge correctly either of his aim or success ? And 
 how can we know this better than by this natural 
 method of, as it were, consulting himself? 
 
 Our main inquiry, therefore, in this second pre- 
 h"minary chapter, has reference to this point. Does 
 the Evangelist himself provide us with any intimations 
 respecting his own order of thought ? 
 
 The 2 1st verse of his T6th chapter appears to be of 
 much significance in this way. 
 
 Its exact language is this : — ' From that time forth 
 began Jesus to shew unto His disciples how that He 
 must go unto Jerusalem, and suffer many things of the 
 elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and 
 be raised again the third day.' 
 
 In these words, the Evangelist evidently invites our 
 special attention to a certain remarkable change of 
 character in the teaching of Christ at a certain point 
 in His course. 
 
 Up to that point he describes Him, by implication, 
 as rarely, if ever, making open reference to the coming 
 catastrophe of His death. 
 
 From that point he describes Him as constantly 
 doing so in the plainest possible way. 'From ihat 
 time forth begmi Jesus to shew unto His disciples' 
 these things. 
 
 Clearly, therefore, we have a distinction here of a 
 very palpable kind, like that between sea and dry 
 land. The topic which is conspicuous for its absence 
 
14 THE FIELD OF INQUIRY. 
 
 in the one case is conspicuous for its presence in the 
 other. 
 
 Clearly, also, we have a distinction here of a pecu- 
 liarly vital description, like that between darkness and 
 light. The topic, on the absence or presence of which 
 everything turns, is nothing less than the violent death 
 of the Man whose hfe-story is being told. 
 
 Altogether, therefore, in this passage we have just 
 that kind of guidance which our purpose requires. It is 
 "the Evangelist himself who teaches us thus broadly 
 to separate all that portion of his Gospel which goes 
 before, from all that portion which follows after, this 
 transition-point in his story. 
 
 Another passage in this Gospel is worthy -of notice 
 in the same connection. 
 
 We refer to that in which Jesus of Nazareth is 
 represented as saying of Himself (ch. xx. 28), ' The 
 Son of Man is come not to be ministered unto, but to 
 minister, and to give His life a ransom -for many.' 
 
 In the first half of this verse, we find Christ describ- 
 ing His mission on earth with reference to His labours 
 or ' ministrations ' alone. 
 
 In the second clause we find Him speaking of it 
 with exclusive reference to His passion and death. 
 
 In other words, according to this Evangelist, On one 
 important occasion at least, Christ Himself openly and 
 expressly divided His whole work upon earth in entire 
 accordance with that primary division of it to which 
 we have already been led. 
 
■ITS GENERAL PLAN. l5 
 
 This is very strong additional testimony to the 
 fundamental character of that division. It is a division 
 which marks, according to Christ Himself, the turning- 
 point of His mission. 
 
 This last passage also enables us conveniently to 
 characterize the distinction in question. 
 
 Up to ch. xvi. 31, that is to say, we may consider 
 St. Matthew as principally engaged in giving us a 
 history of the MINISTRY of Jesus. 
 
 After that verse we may regard him as engaged prin- 
 .cipally in telling us of Christ's PASSION and Death. 
 
 Moreover, the division thus summarised at once 
 leads to two others of scarcely less subordinate rank. 
 
 On the one hand, e.g., a glance at the opening 
 chapters of the history shews us that they relate to 
 matters of a preliminary description, and that they 
 have chiefly to do, in fact, with the first tidings of 
 Christ's appearance on earth. 
 
 We may regard these chapters, therefore, as a kind 
 of prelude to the rest of the book. 
 
 On the other hand, a similar glance at the closing 
 verses of this history will shew us that they relate to 
 matters of a supplementary kind ; and that they have 
 chiefly to do, in fact, with the marvellous story of 
 Christ's return to this earth. 
 
 These verses, therefore, we may look upon as a 
 kind of sequel to all. 
 
 We are thus led to the following general view of, 
 the order of thought in this book. 
 
1 6 THE FIELD OF INQUIRV. 
 
 Practically speaking, four unequal main divisions 
 make 'up its whole bulk. 
 
 The first of these portions (Matt, i-iv) gives us a 
 brief narrative of the Appearance of Christ. 
 
 The leading topic of the second portion (ch, v-xvi. 
 2i) is the Ministry of Christ. 
 
 The dominant thought of the third portion (ch. xvi. 
 21-xxvii. 57) is the Passion of Christ. 
 
 The great subject of the last portion (ch. xxvii. 57, 
 xxviii) is the Re-appearance of Christ. 
 
 This is how St. Matthew himself practically divides 
 his own book. 
 
 This, therefore, is how we shall divide it in our 
 present survey. 
 
 Note. — In working out these main divisions, the exact order of their 
 constituent chapters and verses has been adhered to throughout ; partly 
 in loyalty to St. Matthew himself, and partly in order to facilitate refer- 
 ence to his Gospel without distracting the reader by perpetual quotations 
 of chapter and verse. The particular portion of St. Matthew, however, 
 under consideration in each successive section of this work is always 
 noted at its head. 
 
PART II. 
 
 THE APPEARANCE OF CHRIST. 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 
 HIS HUMAN LINEAGE. 
 Matt. i. I -1 7. 
 
 This biographical sketch, Hke many others, begins 
 with the lineage of its subject. Who was this ' Jesus 
 Christ' to whom it refers.^ From what line did He 
 spring ? 
 
 The answer is given as follows : — He was ' Jesus 
 Christ, the son of David, the son of Abraham.' 
 
 To appreciate this answer, we must bear in mind 
 who David and Abraham were, viz., two men pre- 
 eminently distinguished in the sacred Books of the 
 Jews. 
 
 They were distinguished, e.g., as being the special 
 objects of God's approbation and favour. Even at 
 the time of the Evangelist's \vriting, Abraham was 
 remembered as ' the friend of God ' (James ii. 23), and 
 David as ' the man after God's own heart ' (Acts xiii. 
 22). 
 
 They were also distinguished as men with whose 
 famihes or direct descendants God had been pleased to 
 connect certain promises of blessing to all the families of 
 the earth. Thus to Abraham He had said (Gen. xxii. 
 1 8). ' In thy seed shall all the nations of the earth be 
 
20 THE APPEARANCE OF CHRIST. 
 
 blessed.' While of King David, Abraham's descendant, 
 He had further declared, that this promised ' seed ' 
 should not only spring from his line, but also sit on 
 his throne. 
 
 To assert, therefore, that this ' Jesus Christ ' was 
 directly descended from these, was to assert, in fact, 
 that He sprang from the line from which the Christ 
 was to arise. 
 
 In support of this weighty assertion, therefore, the 
 pedigree of Jesus is next given at length (Matt. i. 
 2-17); but, obviously, not in such a form in some 
 respects as modern readers would naturally have 
 expected. 
 
 It is equally obvious, at the same time, that the 
 writer himself puts it forward without misgiving or 
 doubt. He may be considered, in fact, to be defying 
 any one who understands the case to convict him of 
 being either incorrect or irrelevant. ' These national 
 documents, understood in our national manner, prove 
 that the pedigree of this Jesus was the appointed 
 pedigree of Messiah.' 
 
 Probably this is why the only four women named 
 in this genealogy, viz., Thamar, Rahab, Ruth, and 
 Bathsheba, are all women who happen to be the 
 subjects of special episodes, either for good or for 
 evil, in the national annals. In dealing with acknow- 
 ledged national data in the national manner, it would 
 be equally natural to mention these, and to mention 
 no other beside. 
 
HIS HUMAN LINEAGE. 21 
 
 The form of this genealogy will be found to bear 
 ' significantly, in the next place, on the question of time. 
 
 Special attention is asked to the fact that the 
 ' generations ' it contains admit of being broken up 
 into three separate groups of ' fourteen ' each (ver. 17). 
 
 Attention is also asked to the fact that all three 
 of these groups are made to begin, and therefore the 
 two earlier of them made to conclude, at certain highly 
 critical historical times. 
 
 The first group, for example, begins with the person 
 of Abraham ; and so, at the time of the first great 
 national promise of the Messiah, and, as it were, of 
 the very foundation of the chosen people and race. 
 
 In a similar way the first group ends, and the 
 second begins, in the person of David ; and so, at 
 the time of the second national promise of the 
 Messiah, and, as it were, of the very foundation of 
 the chosen dynasty and kingdom. 
 
 In a similar way, again,- the second series concludes 
 and the third begins,' at the time of that great Baby- 
 lonian captivity, which seemed to be an utter end both 
 of kingdom and race ; and the return froni which, 
 therefore, was nothing less than a moral resurrection 
 of both. 
 
 How fitting, therefore — how fully according to prece- 
 dent, and how happy a consummation of all — that the 
 termination of the third series of ' fourteen generations ' 
 should be marked by so critical an event as th^ actual 
 appearance of this long-prophesied King ! 
 
 c 
 
21 THE APPEARANCE OF CHRIST. 
 
 As well, therefore, in regard to the precise date of 
 His appearing, as in regard to the particular family 
 from which He sprang, this genealogy of Jesus serves 
 to point Him out as being indeed Jesus the ' Christ.' 
 
 The expected Messiah could not have arisen from 
 a different line. 
 
 The expected Messiah could hardly have been 
 manifested at a more suitable time. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 HIS SUPERHUMAN ORIGIN. 
 Matt. i. 18-25. 
 
 After noting the 'time' of the appearance of 
 Christ, the Evangelist proceeds to ask attention to 
 its manner (ch. i. 18-25). ' The birth of Jesus Christ 
 was on ' such ' wise,' according to him, as to be well 
 worthy of note. 
 
 It was so on account of the unexampled Agency to 
 which it was due. 
 
 Mention has already been made, in ver. 16, of the 
 mother of Jesus. We also read there of ' Joseph, the 
 husband of Mary, of whom was born Jesus, who is 
 called Christ.' 
 
 It now appears that after the time of her espousal 
 to Joseph, and before their coming together, her 
 husband hears that about her which makes him think 
 it his duty, notwithstanding the explanation which she 
 appears to have offered (see end of ver. 18), to 'put 
 her away.' Whilst debating this point with himself, 
 and planning how to do so in the most considerate 
 manner, if he did it at all, he receives a message 
 from heaven. Some one whom he recognizes as ' the 
 angel of the Lord ' appears to him in a dream. This 
 
 c 2 
 
24 THE APPEARANCE OF CHRIST. 
 
 messenger begins by bearing express testimony to his 
 character and descent, and by giving him also an 
 express command not to take the step of which he 
 had thought : ' Joseph, thou son of David, fear not 
 to take unto thee Mary thy wife.' He then vouch- 
 safes him a sufficient reason for this unexpected com- 
 mand — a reason wliich stated in so many words what 
 we suppose the mother of Jesus to have already stated 
 herself, viz., that ' that which is conceived in her is of 
 the Holy Ghost.' After which he furnishes Joseph 
 with much instruction respecting the child about to 
 be born. Respecting its sex : ' she shall bring forth a 
 So;i.' Respecting its name : ' thou shalt call His name 
 jfesiis.' Respecting the propriety of that name ; the 
 name of Jesus or Joshua, when interpreted, signifying 
 'God our Saviour' (see Numbers xiii. i6), and so 
 describing with marked exactness what this coming 
 Child was to be, viz., to be One who should ^save 
 His people ' (see Jeremiah xxxi. 33-end) ' from their 
 sins.' 
 
 Corresponding, moreover, with this voice from 
 heaven, there had been other like voices before. 
 
 The well-known prediction of Isaiah vii. 14, for 
 example, had declared that 'a virgin should bring 
 forth a son.' 
 
 The angel had now virtually declared the same by 
 explaining the manner in which this wonder was to 
 come true. 
 
 The same prophet, in the same place, had declared 
 
HTS SUPERHUMAN ORIGIN. 2 5 
 
 .that this child of a virgin should bear the name of 
 Emmanuel, or ' God with us.' 
 
 The angel has now shewn that this name of ' Jesus ' 
 is a perfect fulfilment of this. If God ' saves us,' He 
 must be ' with us ' as well. If the child is ' Jesus,' He 
 is ' Emmanuel ' too. 
 
 Exactly as the angel and the prophecy had described 
 and directed beforehand, so, in every respect, it after- 
 wards comes to pass. ' Joseph, being raised from 
 sleep,' does 'as the angel of the Lord had bidden him, 
 and ' takes ' unto him his wife.' Under his holy 
 guardianship she brings forth her 'first-born son;' and 
 to that son, according to the angel's commandment, 
 this name of ' Jesus ' is given. 
 
 How vividly, therefore, we see this Son of Mary 
 pointed out again as the Christ ! 
 
 So foretold ; so begotten ; so named ; who else can 
 Hebe? 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 HIS PROPER RANK. 
 Matt. ii. 
 
 The promise to David that the Messiah should 
 sit on his throne, meant more than .this a great deal. 
 In fact, when occupied by Messiah, the throne of 
 David was to be the throne of the world. This is 
 clear, amongst other passages, from such as the 
 following : — ' All kings shall fall down before Him ; 
 all nations shall serve Him,' Ps. Ixxii. ii. 'Ask 
 of Me, and I shall give Thee the heathen for Thine 
 inheritance, and the uttermost parts of the earth for 
 Thy possession,' Ps. ii. 8. In that portion of the 
 Evangelist's story (Matt, ii.) to be discussed by us 
 now, this acknowledged item in the national creed 
 must be specially borne in mind. 
 
 The 'Virgin's Son' is still an* infant when certain 
 ' wise men from the East ' arrive at ' Jerusalem.' Their 
 errand is one which takes for granted that the expected 
 King has appeared. Where they can find Him, and 
 how they can worship Him, is all they inquire. Nor 
 do they inquire without cause. The descendants of 
 men who, in all probability, had studied the constella- 
 tions of heaven for ages, they have seen that in the 
 sky Avhich they regard as an evidence that this ' Star 
 
HIS PROPER RANK. 2^ 
 
 of Jacob ' has come. ' Where is He that is born 
 King of the Jews? For we have seen His star in 
 the East, and are come to worship Him.' . What 
 profound conviction, to bring them thus far ! How 
 true a King, born sceptre-in-hand, as it were ! How 
 wide a kingdom, extending even to them ! 
 
 The inquiry stirs Jerusalem to its centre. The heads 
 of the Church are gathered and questioned by the 
 then head of the state. ' Where is the Christ to be 
 born?' They have but one answer to give. Ancient 
 prophecy had, long ago, settled this point. Out of royal 
 ' Bethlehem,' David's city, David's heir must arise. 
 
 On this information Herod immediately acts. 
 Calling the ' wise men ' to him in private, he inquires 
 from them with anxious exactness respecting the star 
 they had seen. Then he sends them to Bethlehem 
 to find out with equal exactness the place of the 
 Child, and report it to him. 'In order/ he adds, 
 ' that I may come and worship Him too.' 
 
 The wise men ' hear the king,' and depart. To their 
 exceeding joy, the star which they had seen previously 
 befriends them again ; guiding them till it stands over 
 where the young Child is. At length they see the 
 Babe ! They see its mother ! They see the ' King ' 
 they desire. Opening the ' treasures ' which they have 
 brought so far, they offer Him ' gifts.' The Evan- 
 gelist specifies what these are. There is the tribute 
 of ' gold,' as befitted a king. There is the fragrance 
 of 'frankincense,' as employed in the worship of God. 
 
28 THE APPEARANCE OF CHRIST. 
 
 There is the virtue of ' myrrh/ as made use of in 
 embalming the dead. Is there unintended prophecy 
 as well as open homage in the choice of these gifts ? 
 
 Certain it is that deadly designs are already abroad. 
 It is one token of this^ that God makes use of a dream 
 to send the ' wise men ' home by a different route. It 
 is another token of it that He uses the same instru- 
 mentality to protect 'the young Child.' 'The Angel 
 of the Lord ' appears to Joseph again. Again, also, 
 is his language urgent, his instructions definite, 
 his reasons precise. ' Arise, and take the young 
 Child and His mother, and flee into Egypt, and be 
 thou there until I bring thee word ; for Herod will 
 seek the young Child to destroy Him.' 
 
 Thus admonished, ' he arises and takes the young 
 Child and His mother' — not impossibly the 'same 
 ' night ' — into Egypt. 
 
 The Evangelist here refers again to the prophetical 
 word. Often, when inspiration speaks of Israel, it 
 means Israel's Messiah as well. There is a passage 
 in Hosea (ch. xi. i) in which Jehovah is represented 
 as saying : ' Out of Egypt have I called My Son.' 
 In the Evangelist's view, this was a passage in point. 
 It was a 'declaration spoken of the Lord,' according 
 to him — a declaration, therefore — here he anticipates 
 a little — which was ' fulfilled ' in His- case. 
 
 What is next related illustrates this alleged identity 
 of experience between Israel's Messiah and Israel 
 itself, in a very terrible way. Finding that the wise 
 
HIS PROPER RANK. 
 
 29 
 
 men do not return to him with the information he 
 desires, Herod is greatly enraged ; and turns, in con- 
 sequence, to seek the object which he had really been 
 aiming at all along, in a different way. The priests 
 had informed him of the proper birth-place, the wise 
 men had enabled him to compute the probable age, 
 of the infantile Christ. He will employ this know- 
 ledge to make sure of His death. With characteristic 
 ■ recklessness, all infants whatever in the city of Bethle- 
 hem, or anywhere near, of anything like the probable 
 age, are to perish, in hopes that this Infant shall 
 perish among them. So he orders. So it is done. 
 
 Something of this, also, generations before, the eyes 
 of prophecy had foreseen. The exceedingly bitter 
 anguish caused by the sudden loss of so many little 
 ones, just at that age when they seem to belong to 
 their mothers more than to any one else, those far- 
 seeing eyes had perceived. They had also perceived, 
 the exact locality on which this grievous shadow 
 should fall, viz., on the whole of that neighbourhood 
 which was so near .to the well-known sepulchre of 
 Rachel ' in the way ' to Bethlehem (Gen. xxxv. 
 19, 20), that she might be considered, poetically 
 speaking, the sorrowing mother of all. ' In Rama 
 was there a voice heard, lamentation, and weeping, 
 and great mourning, Rachel weeping for her children, 
 and would not be comforted, because they are not.' 
 
 The life of the Infant Christ has been preserved. 
 Where is He to be reared? On this point Joseph 
 
30 THE APPEARANCE OF CHRIST. 
 
 receives once again instructions from heaven. Some 
 time after arriving in Egypt, he is told in a dream 
 of the death of Herod, In the same dream, he is 
 commanded to 'take the young Child and His mother, 
 and go into the land of Israel.' Coming to its 
 borders in obedience to this command, he hears that 
 * Archelaus is reigning in Judaea in the room of his 
 father Herod ; ' and is afraid to proceed. Once more, 
 therefore, in his perplexity, he is ' warned of God in a 
 dream ; ' the result being that he ' turns aside ' or 
 ' retires ' into ' the parts of Galilee,' and there finally 
 takes up his abode in ' a city called Nazareth.' In 
 this city, said to be the most despised of all in those 
 much despised ' parts,' the Child Jesus is reared. 
 And thus, as foretold in substance by ' the prophets,' 
 this royal descendant of David and Abraham comes 
 to be ' called a Nazarene.' 
 
 The whole chapter, in short, presents Him to us 
 in a similar twofold light. Everywhere in it we find 
 evidence that He is ' King of the Jews,' and all that 
 that means. The star in the East, the wise men's 
 journey, the false king's inquiries, the priests' reply, 
 the wise men's offerings, the subsequent plots and 
 massacre, these repeated dreams, these numerous 
 prophecies, these singular providences, all testify to 
 this truth. Yet everywhere, also. He is presented 
 to us as a King in disguise. It is not difficult to 
 see why. He has come to ' minister ; ' and not, at 
 present, to ' reign.' 
 
PART III. 
 
 THE MINISTRY OF CHRIST. 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 
 ITS SOLEMN OPENING. 
 Matt. iii. 
 
 We left ' Jesus of Nazareth ' growing up as a child 
 in that city of evil repute. Another figure has to 
 pass before us before we see Him again. 
 
 It is the figure of one who is unusually distinguished 
 as a preacher of truth. 
 
 He is distinguished by the fact of his preacliing out 
 ' in the wilderness,' away from the habitations of men. 
 
 He is distinguished by his requiring those who 
 receive his teaching to receive baptism from him as 
 well : — so much so as to have become universally 
 known, in consequence, as 'Jolin the Baptist.' 
 
 He is distinguished, further, by the unexampled 
 urgency of his exhortations and message. Others had 
 spoken of a 'kingdom of God 'in the future. He 
 proclaims it ' at hand.' 
 
 More than this, he even announces himself to ex- 
 pectant Israel as that immediate forerunner of this 
 heavenly kingdom who had been long ago promised 
 as a ' voice in the wilderness ' by the prophet Isaiah — 
 their greatest propliet in word. 
 
 Furthe'r, he is clad and nurtured in such a manner 
 
34 THE MINISTRY OF CHRIST. 
 
 as inevitably to suggest a comparison with that 
 strangely-fed mantle-clad ' Elijah the Tishbite,' who 
 had been their greatest prophet in deed ; and who 
 had also been spoken of as to come immediately 
 ' before the day of the Lord.' 
 
 At the same time, he surpasses both those great 
 ones in the results of his work. ' Jerusalem, and all 
 Judaea, and all the region round about Jordan,' not 
 only come to his preaching, but obey his injunctions ; 
 and that, also, notwithstanding the deep and open 
 humiliation which such obedience involved. They are 
 ' baptized of him in Jordan, confessing their sins.' 
 
 Lastly, this extraordinary popularity is never attri- 
 butable to his speaking lightly of evil. Amongst 
 those who ' come to his baptism ' are many members 
 of the leading sects of the day. He treats them as 
 he treats all, without favour or fear. It is an astonish- 
 ment to him to find such as they shewing even this 
 token for good. ' O generation of vipers, who hath 
 warned you to flee from the wrath to come .'' ' He 
 warns them, therefore, even with more than wonted 
 earnestness, to be truly sincere in their doings ; and to 
 avoid anxiously that formal hypocrisy by which they 
 were deluding their souls. ' Think not to say within 
 yourselves. We have Abraham to our father : for I say 
 unto you, that God is able of these stones to raise up 
 children unto Abraham.' . 
 
 Never, surely, did any preacher employ greater 
 boldness of speech. 
 
ITS SOLEMN OPENING. ;^^ 
 
 Never, at the same time, did any preacher labour 
 with more signal success. 
 
 Yet, after all, we find him describing it, as his 
 principal work as a teacher to tell men of another. 
 According to his own account, in fact, this is why he 
 hjs come ; and why he acts as he does. 
 
 This, for example, is why he is so especially urgent 
 in demanding true repentance of life. That great 
 Searcher of hearts, who is so close behind him, will 
 make short work of anything less. Already, as it 
 were, He is laying His axe at the root of the tree. 
 The next thing, therefore — with every fruitless tree — 
 will be to hew it down for the fire. 
 
 This, also, is why this most successful of preachers 
 insists on baptism as he does. Not so much for its 
 own sake, as for what it prepares for, does he make 
 use of this sign. One is coming who is so much 
 mightier than himself that he feels unworthy to do 
 Him service even in the lowliest way. My baptism 
 is ' with water unto repentance.' Its principal use, 
 therefore, is to prepare you for His, which shall be 
 ' with the Holy Ghost, and with fire.' 
 
 It is not possible for me, in short, to speak too 
 highly — so he proceeds in effect — either of Him or 
 His work. What an instrument of discrimination, e.g., 
 is that ' fan ' of ' His ' which He now holds ' in His 
 hand!' How 'throughly' may He be expected, by 
 its help, to ' purge ' ' His ' own ' floor ! ' And how wide 
 apart and how irrevocable, therefore, will be the 
 
^6 THE MINISTRY OF CHRIST. 
 
 separation it works ! Where is the ' wheat ? ' In the 
 'garner.' Where is the' chaff ?^ In the 'fire.' What 
 sort of ' fire ? ' That which cannot be ' quenched.' 
 
 As John is engaged in teaching thus, Jesus of 
 Nazareth appears before us again. He has left the 
 place and condition of childhood ; He arrives at that 
 part of the Jordan where John is baptizing;' He 
 applies for baptism at his hands. 
 
 The request comes upon that faithful teacher as an 
 utter surprise: not to say, at first, as a shock. So 
 much so, that instead of being ready to administer 
 baptism in this case, he desires to 'forbid' it. The very 
 idea seems to him to set everything wrong. ' I have 
 need to be baptized of Thee ; and comest Thou to me?' 
 
 Evidently he appears to see in this Jesus that 
 mightier One of whom he has spoken. 
 
 The answer of Jesus, though very gracious, is also 
 very decisive. I ask you, as things are 'now,' to 'suffer' 
 this to take place. It is in most admirable keeping, 
 though it may not seem so at first, with the work 
 which I am now to begin. The very purpose I 
 have come for is that of -occupying the place of the 
 unrighteous, and ' fulfilling all righteousness ' in his 
 stead. 
 
 It. speaks much, as well both for the knowledge 
 as .for the faith of John the Baptist, that he is 
 convinced by this answer, and opposes no longer. 
 Jesus is baptized with *' the baptism of repentance 
 unto the remission of sins!' 
 
ITS SOLEMN OPENING. 37 
 
 The baptism over, He ' goeth up straightway out of 
 the water.' 
 
 The seal of- approbation is set immediately on that 
 which Jesus has done. 
 
 From the opened heavens above the Spirit of God 
 is seen coming down in dove-like fashion and alighting 
 on Jesus. 
 
 From the same heavens a Voice is heard which 
 testifies thus : — ' This is My beloved Son, in whom I 
 am well pleased.' 
 
 See in all this, therefore, how this Jesus of Naza- 
 reth is set apart for His ministry ! 
 
 How singularly great is that preacher of righteous- 
 ness who sets Him apart ! 
 
 How evidently and vastly greater is Jesus Himself! 
 
 How unexpected, yet how profoundly adequate, is 
 His own view of His work. 
 
 How Divinely attested His call! 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 ITS SUPREME IMrORTANCE. 
 Matt. iv. i-ii. 
 
 After Jesus has been set apart, we find Him 
 setting out, for His wofk. He does not decide about 
 it alone. That same Eternal Spirit who had just 
 designated and anointed Him for His ofifice, now 
 directs its discharge. The very first step in His 
 Ministry is determined in this manner. ' Then is 
 Jesus led up of the Spirit.' How marked is the 
 solemnity of this statement ! 
 
 That first step, however, appears at first sight to be 
 most unexpected and strange. Where is Jesus led 
 from ? Where to ? He is led away from the society 
 and even from the sight -of mankind. He is led to a 
 region in which He will have to face the assaults of 
 the great Adversary of mankind. This is described, 
 indeed, as the express purpose for which He is brought 
 to that place. ' Then is Jesus led up of the Spirit 
 into the wilderness, to be tempted of the devil.' 
 Scarcely is His ministry- open before we hear the 
 sounds of contention and battle. 
 
 Some considerable time, however, seems to elapse 
 before the chief assaults are delivered. Nearly six 
 
ITS SUPREME IMPORTANCE. 39 
 
 weeks of solitude and privation pass over this Son of 
 God without producing much sensible effect on His 
 bodily frame. Other men have experienced some- 
 thing not altogether dissimilar when exposed to great 
 and unusual excitement. Amongst the things w^hich 
 the extraordinary measure of this experience in the 
 case of Jesus of Nazareth may serve to shew us, is 
 the extraordinary intensity of feeling with which He 
 opened His work. That work to Him, from the very 
 first, is more than His necessary food. 
 
 When the feeling of hunger, and of consequent 
 bodily weakness, comes on Him at last, there comes 
 also the foremost of the expected assaults. Wonderful 
 is the amount of skill with which it seems to be 
 planned. This fainting Man is assailed by a tempta- 
 tion just suited to His condition, the temptation of a 
 prospect of food. It is a temptation, also, exactly 
 suited to the holy simplicity of His character. It sets 
 before Him no greater luxury than a prospect of 
 ' bread.' Also, the temptation comes , to Him in a 
 shape nicely adjusted to the dignity of His claims. 
 'A voice from heaven, only the other day, proclaimed 
 Thee God's Son. Is the Son of God to suffer hunger 
 like the children of men? If Thou hast the power, 
 why not exert the power, and bid these stones become 
 bread.?' 
 
 The answer to this intricate and subtle temptation 
 is alike sufficient and simple. ' Although in truth the 
 Son of God, I am here as a man ; and " man " has 
 
 D 2 
 
40 THE MINISTRY OF CHRIST. 
 
 been appointed, and has also been taught, to hve in 
 entire dependence upon God.' 
 
 One avenue of temptation is closed. The act of 
 closing it opens another. ' Dost Thou depend upon 
 God ? Then depend on Him to the full. See, here 
 is His House ! Here its loftiest point ! Are not His" 
 angels about Thee.? Are they not all charged to 
 preserve Thee? To preserve Thy feet even from 
 coming in contact with the very stones in Thy path ? 
 Shew Thy faith in this promise — shew Thy faith in 
 their care — shew Thy faith in Thyself — by flinging 
 Thyself down from this height.' 
 
 One ray of truth clears away all this mist of deceit. 
 ' It is forbidden to any man thus to test the limits of 
 God's sovereign will.' 
 
 The Saviour has been twice tempted as the Son of 
 God ; and has answered as man. He shall now be 
 tempted as man. Taken to the summit of an ' exceed- 
 ing high mountain,' He is shewn a sudden and far- 
 reaching prospect of ' all the kingdoms of the world.' 
 All the ' glory ' that has ever dazzled the longing 
 thoughts of the most ambitious of men lies spread at 
 His feet. If He will only do homage to its present 
 possessor it shall all become His. ' All these things 
 will I give Thee, if Thou wilt fall down and worship 
 me.' What a prospect ! What a condition ! Never 
 before had so dazzling a result been offered in return 
 for so apparently simple an act ! 
 
 Not for a single moment, however, was it so re- 
 
ITS SUPREME IMPORTANCE. 4I 
 
 garded by the Man invited thereto. The other temp- 
 tations had come, as it were, disguised by a cloak. 
 This is a naked incentive to evil. It is a direct incen- 
 tive to treason against the Most High. Unhke the 
 other temptations, therefore, it meets at once with a 
 direct and naked rebuke. ' Get thee hence, thou 
 Adversary ; for it is written, Thou shalt worship the 
 Lord thy God, and Him only shalt thou serve.' 
 
 Then, at last, the Evil One goes. Who come in his 
 place? A company of angels from heaven. That 
 arch-deceiver had spoken strict truth when he spoke of 
 them as engaged on Christ's side. They supply His 
 needs. They sustain His faintness. They sympathize 
 with His work. Having come Himself for the pur- 
 pose of ministering unto many, they minister now 
 unto Him. 
 
 See, therefore, how important a thing in every way 
 His Ministry is. The Spirit of God Himself directs it 
 from the first. The whole humanity of Christ Himself 
 is absorbed in it from the first. The mightiest poten- 
 tate of hell from beneath, with the subtlest of tempta- 
 tions and the costliest of bribes, sets himself in action 
 against it. Afterwards the inhabitants of heaven 
 come down to assist, in it, so far as they can. Every- 
 where it is watched — this blind earth alone excepted — 
 with the deepest concern ! 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 ITS MARKED UNOBTRUSIVENESS. 
 Matt. iv. 12-25. 
 
 The appointed conflict with Satan in the wilderness 
 has been fully fought out, and Jesus of Nazareth is 
 found again among the dwellings of men. Where does 
 He fix His abode? This the Evangelist explains 
 next. 
 
 In the first instance, however, he seems to do so 
 only in a negative way. The choice of a definite 
 centre of labour does not appear to have been made 
 by the newly-set-apart Prophet of Nazareth, until the 
 public labours of the man who had set Him apart 
 have been brought to a close. Up till then He 
 appears to have spent the time subsequent to the 
 Temptation in some place or places of a comparatively 
 conspicuous description. At any rate, it is not until 
 Jesus ' hears that John is cast into prison,' that we are 
 told of His ' retiring ' {avex^p^w^') into that part of the 
 country where we hear of Him next. 
 
 This was that peculiarly provincial province of 
 ' Galilee ' where He had been brought up as a child. 
 
 It is not, however, to that citj/ of Galilee in which 
 He had lived as a child, and in which many of His 
 
ITS MARKED VNOBTRUSIVENESS. 43 
 
 immediate kinsfolk were resident still, that we find 
 Him directing His steps. 
 
 He even seems to turn aside from this city in a 
 manner so marked as to excite surprise, if not wrath. 
 
 ' Leaving Nazareth,' the Evangelist says, ' He comes 
 and settles in Capernaum, which is on the shore of the 
 sea, and in the borders of Zabulon and Nephthalim.' 
 
 Possibly St. Matthew speaks in this manner because 
 ■himself resident there at that time. The ' coming ' of 
 Jesus to that city, and the exact aspect and situation 
 of the city itself, would naturally be much impressed 
 on his mind. 
 
 Possibly, also, he speaks thus on account of the 
 remarkable character of this step. 
 
 With such a mission, for example, as that which has 
 now been entrusted to Jesus, is it not a step to be 
 noted? After being almost worshipped by so great 
 a preacher as John the Baptist, after receiving the 
 open attestation of Heaven itself, after vanquishing 
 the Adversary himself in the wilderness, who would 
 have thought of His settling down in ' GaHlee of the 
 Gentiles,' of all places on earth ? 
 
 Also, if He must begin in that province, why not do 
 so amongst His own kinsfolk and friends? Why 
 venture as a stranger into the thronged streets of a 
 turbulent seafaring town ? 
 
 The Evangelist's answer is that this had all been 
 determined on ages before; and had also been deter- 
 ' mined on then for very good cause. Ages before, in 
 
44 THE MINISTRY OF CHRIST. 
 
 the mystic language of the prophet Isaiah, God had 
 seen fit to reveal how the coming Light of the world 
 should give special enlightenment to that part of the 
 world ; and how it should do so (apparently) for the 
 very good reason that the darkness there would be 
 worst. ' The land of Zabulon, and the land of Neph- 
 thalim, by the way of the sea, beyond Jordan, Galilee 
 of the Gentiles ; the people which sat in darkness saw 
 great light ; and to them which sat in the region and 
 shadow of death light is sprung up.' 
 
 Having thus selected as His starting-point and 
 head-quarters this appointed centre of darkness, how 
 does Jesus proceed ? 
 
 First of all, He again takes up the special message 
 of His predecessor, the Baptist. ' From that time 
 Jesus begins to preach, and to say, Repent : for the 
 Kingdom of Heaven is at hand.' 
 
 Walking, next, by the neighbouring sea, He in- 
 fluences first one, and then another, amongst the 
 fisherfolk on its waters, as they are casting their nets 
 into the sea, or else mending them after having done 
 so, to give up all for His sake ; promising to them, 
 if they will so ' follow ' Him, that they shall become 
 ' fishers of men.' 
 
 After that, from Capernaum as His centre, but 
 still always within the borders of Galilee as His 
 circumference. He goes everywhere teaching and 
 preaching the glad tidings of the Kingdom of God, 
 at the same time relieving and healing in a perfectly 
 
ITS MARKED UNOBTRUSTVENESS. 45 
 
 marvellous manner all the manifold ailments and sick- 
 nesses of all those who throng to Him for such help. 
 
 Finally, as the news of these strange proceedings 
 gradually permeates to all parts of the land, helpless 
 patients in every stage and shape of bodily and 
 mental affliction are brought to Him in such numbers, 
 and are relieved by Him also with such completeness, 
 that He finally finds Himself followed by crowds 
 gathered together, not only from Galilee itself, but 
 also from cities as diverse in character as half-heathen 
 Decapolis and self-righteous Jerusalem, and from 
 places as far remote from one another and from Him 
 as the parts of Judaea beyond Jerusalem and the wide 
 country on the other side of the Jordan. 
 
 Thus it is that Jesus commences His direct 
 ministerial work. In after yea'rs Christianity is 
 taught to ' begin at Jerusalem,' and is eager of itself 
 to encounter philosophy at Athens, and to face 
 empire at Rome. Christ Himself, at this outset 
 of His labours, deliberately turns from them all. 
 Although the wide arid immediate spread of His 
 ' fame ' shews plainly what He might have done in 
 the most famous parts of the world, He chooses 
 instead, of set purpose, to begin with the despised 
 and obscure. And He does so, moreover, with no 
 other object than their enlightenment and relief. So 
 full of meekness — so full of mercy^ — is His ministry 
 from the first ! 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ITS UNEXAMPLED AUTHORITY. 
 Matt. V. vi, vii. 
 
 We have now arrived at that point of our road 
 where its longer stages begin ; the ' stations ' of this 
 journey, as of many others, lying much thicker 
 together towards its beginning and end. 
 
 The precise ' longer stage ' at this moment before 
 us, consists of the whole of the three next chapters 
 of our Evangelist's work. We take them together 
 because we find them occupied with one subject 
 throughout. By this time of the Saviour's history, 
 so many persons have begun to attach themselves 
 to Him as His disciples, that He seems to think it 
 necessary to issue to them a kind of Manifesto of 
 His teaching. It is this MANIFESTO which is reported 
 to us in the three chapters referred to. ' Seeing the 
 multitudes, He went up into the mountain : and when 
 He was set, His disciples came unto Him ; and He 
 opened His mouth, and taught them.' 
 
 In the set discourse thus delivered by Him, He first 
 encourages ; next enlightens ; and finally, cautions 
 His disciples. 
 
 He encourages them by assuring them repeatedly 
 
ITS UNEXAMPLED AUTHORITY. 47 
 
 of the peculiar blessedness of their lot. He bids them 
 be sure of this, notwithstanding the fact — a fact which 
 would be plain enough to them afterwards, if not quite 
 clear at that time — that all the peculiarities of their 
 lot were not such as would be thought enviable in the 
 eyes of the world. To the world, e. g., it seemed 
 anything but a blessing to be ' poor in spirit,' or 
 ' mournful,' or ' meek ; ' or to be eager in the pursuit of 
 ' righteousness ' instead of the good things of this life ; 
 or to be men of ' mercy,' or of inward ' purity,' or 
 effectual promoters of ' peace.' Still less so, to be 
 exposed to suffering or shame ' for righteousness' 
 sake.' Yet in these self-same things, so He delibe- 
 rately assures them, lay the peculiar felicity of their 
 lot. For, just in proportion as these things were true 
 of them now, so would the exact opposites be true of 
 them hereafter in a simply immeasurable degree. Just 
 in the same proportion, also, would they enjoy in the 
 meantime the God-like privileges of preserving the 
 world as its ' salt,' and blessing the world as its 
 ' light,' and so causing their ' Father in heaven ' to 
 be ' glorified ' upon earth. Such was the happiness — 
 the unexpected happiness — to which His disciples 
 were called. 
 
 The special point on which Jesus next proceeds to 
 enlighten His disciples is that of His position as a 
 Teacher. 
 
 First, on its negative side. Let them never suppose 
 that He had come for the purpose of in any way 
 
48 THE MINISTRY OF CHRIST. 
 
 depreciating those ancient authorities of the ' Law and 
 the Prophets ' to which they had been taught to look 
 up. Rather, He had come for the express purpose 
 of vindicating them to the full. So long, in fact, as 
 heaven and earth themselves should continue in 
 existence, so long also even their minutest portions 
 would continue in force. Neither would any one 
 whatever in the Kingdom of Heaven be able either to 
 practise or teach otherwise, except at the most serious 
 loss to himself. Some there were, it is true, who 
 seemed, even then, to think that they could. Such 
 teachers were not examples, but warnings. Hts 
 disciples must surpass 'them, if they would even ' enter 
 into the Kingdom of Heaven.' 
 
 For Himself, what He taught respecting these rules 
 — to come now to the positive side — was their ex- 
 ceeding penetration and' breadth. Previous teachers, 
 in declaring God's will, had published the ' letter ' of 
 His witness against sin — a most valuable thing in its 
 way. The prerogative which He assumed was that 
 of proclaiming its ' spirit.' 
 
 On the subject of murder, e. g., they ' of old ' had 
 been contented with saying, ' Thou shalt not kill.' 
 Jesus taught that the commandment extended even 
 to wishing harm without cause ; and that any delibe- 
 rate manifestation of malicious desire, or avoidable 
 carelessness about causing pain or giving offence, was 
 a transgression which exposed the offender to the 
 severe displeasure of God. 
 
ITS UNEXAMPLED AUTHORITY. 49 
 
 On the subject of impurity, again, they ' of old 
 time ' had written down -the command, ' Thou shalt 
 not commit adultery/ Jesus teaches His disciples 
 that they must not even desire it ; and bids them 
 be ready rather to sacrifice their ' right eye ' or ' right 
 hand ' than indulge in adulterous thoughts. 
 
 So, also, on the important question of the dissolution 
 of marriage. Previous authorities had put the disso- 
 lution of this tie on the same serious and formal 
 footing as" the contraction thereof. Jesus teaches 
 that neither party must think of dissolving it by legal 
 measures, till the other party has dissolved it in fact. 
 
 Once, again, on the subject of swearing they ' of 
 old time' had taught men not to perjure themselves 
 before God. Jesus goes to the root of the matter 
 by teaching men never to use language inconsistent 
 with the recollection of God's infinite greatness and 
 sovereignty, and of man's utter impotence and de- 
 pendence. 
 
 Finally, while previous commandments had taught 
 men never to exact more than equal retaliation for 
 the wrongs they received, Jesus again goes to the root 
 of the matter by reminding men that, as offenders 
 themselves, they have no right in reality to exact 
 retaliation of any description. Instead of this, what 
 really becomes them as sinful creatures, is to imitate 
 their ' Father in heaven ' by doing good and shewing 
 kindness both to enemies and to friends. 
 
 It is with this same principle, in fact, that He winds 
 
50 THE MINISTRY OF CHRIST. 
 
 up these new enactments of His respecting the duty 
 of man. ' Be ye therefore perfect, even as your 
 Father which is in heaven is perfect.' 
 
 From explaining God's will, Jesus passes to ex- 
 posing men's thoughts. Special dangers beset those 
 who seriously address themselves — as many of these 
 His professed ' disciples ' were undoubtedly doing — to 
 the task of fulfilling that will. How well these dangers 
 were understood by Him is shewn by the series of 
 CaJitions with which He concludes. 
 
 The first group of these is directed against the 
 great mistake of seeking the praise of men rather 
 than the approval of God. It is, unhappily, natural 
 to all of us to think more of men than of God. Even 
 in matters which have exclusively to do with His 
 worship, such as offering our gifts, and saying our 
 prayers, and humbling our persons in His presence — 
 matters in which the desire of man's appreciation and 
 favour is specially misplaced, and therefore specially 
 injurious also — this danger besets us. How is it to 
 be averted? The plan recommended by Jesus is of 
 the most effectual kind, viz., by cutting off the occa- 
 sion. If we do not allow other men even to know 
 of what we are doing, the desire of pleasing them will 
 never require to be resisted, for it will never arise. 
 
 The next caution is directed against the great 
 mistake of setting our affections on the perishable 
 riches of earth ; thereby failing of ever attaining the 
 imperishable riches of heaven. If once we allow our- 
 
ITS UNEXAMPLED AUTHORITY. 5 1 
 
 selves really to ' love ' money, we have made it our 
 god. And if once we do this, then, Hke all other 
 idolators, we shall serve the true God no more. ' Ye 
 cannot serve God and Mammon.' 
 
 Hence the necessity, as the Master points out next, 
 of being on one's guard against a very much subtler 
 form of the same tyrannical evil. ' Covetousness/ 
 men think, is one thing ; ' prudence ' is another. Can 
 it ever be wrong for us to labour diligently for fit 
 raiment and food ? It is certain to be wrong — so the 
 Master rephes in effect — if we labour for them in that 
 spirit of anxiety and distraction which is only another 
 name for trust in self and distrust of God. Such 
 anxiety is unreasonable, to begin. Cannot He sustain 
 the life and clothe the body who brought both into 
 being ? In the next place, it is wholly unnecessary. 
 ' The birds of the air ' know nothing of it, and yet 
 are abundantly 'fed.' -In the third place, it is utterly 
 vain. The lilies of the field never dream of it, and 
 yet are better clad than ourselves. In the last place, 
 it is specially and doubly injurious to ourselves. 
 By putting the ' kingdom of God ' into the second 
 place instead of the first, we miss the very things 
 which we seek ; and by anticipating the evils of to- 
 morrow, we add them to those of to-day — which are 
 always great enough as it is. . 
 
 The next group of cautions warns the disciples of 
 Christ against dangers which beset them in their 
 intercourse with their fellows. Considering your own 
 
53 THE MINISTRY OF CHRIST. 
 
 liability to self-deception and error, be very careful 
 not to sit in judgment on the mistakes of others until 
 you have disposed of your own. On the other hand, 
 be equally careful not to waste your treasures or risk 
 your safety by pressing truth upon men who are 
 avowedly wedded to defilement, like so many ' dogs,' 
 or only capable of appreciating that which is sensual, 
 like so many ' swine.' The wise rule, in all cases, is 
 to bear in mind the more than fatherly readiness of 
 God in heaven ' to give good things to them that ask 
 Him ;' and to be guided thereby. For His sake, 
 always endeavour to do unto others as you would 
 have them do unto you. This is My rule. This is 
 the old rule. There is no better rule to be found. 
 
 The last group of cautions is a kind of application 
 of all that precedes.. 
 
 Beware of being carried away, with regard to error 
 and truth, by the mere suffrages of mankind. The 
 way of the multitude is not the way, either of safety 
 or truth, as a rule. 
 
 Beware, also, of being carried away by the mere 
 professions of men. .Only those can be trusted to 
 teach truth who have truly learned to do good. 
 
 Beware, above all things, of allowing yourselves to 
 be satisfied with the mere knowledge of truth. No 
 stability is like the stability of the disciple who under- 
 stands and obeys. Such a man builds on a ' rock.' 
 On the other hand, there is no overthrow like the 
 overthrow of the deceiver who hears and does not. 
 
ITS UNEXAMPLED AUTHORITV. ^^ 
 
 Such a man builds on the. ' sand.' The higher he 
 builds, therefore, the more irretrievable is the final 
 crash of his house. 
 
 These, very briefly, are the principal features of 
 this set and solemn discourse. In still briefer re- 
 trospect, we see now how much they imply. What 
 authority in blessing ! What authority in legislation ! 
 What wisdom in warning ! Everything that His 
 manner claims — however much — His matter sustains. 
 The multitudes hear and are astounded. ' He spake 
 as one having authority,' and not merely as one claim- 
 ing it, as was the case with 'the Scribes.' Never 
 before had they listened to any one so ' mighty in 
 word ! ' 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 ITS UNRIVALLED POWER. 
 Matt. viii. ix. 1-35. 
 
 With the exception of two separate portions of 
 a few verses each, the whole of the next chapter of 
 this Gospel, and the whole also of the first thirty-five 
 verses of the following chapter, are taken up with 
 a detailed narrative of certain doings of Christ. This 
 is not unnatural after the special attention just paid 
 to His sayings. These same ' sayings ' teach the neces- 
 sity of comparing a teacher's words with his works. 
 
 Very instructive, in this light, is the first of these 
 ' doings.' As soon as Jesus comes down from the 
 mountain, a poor outcast, afiflicted with leprosy, flings 
 himself at His feet. In all the previous history of the 
 chosen people, only two instances of the cure of this 
 terrible malady are on record. Their sacred law 
 itself, with its many minute and comprehensive direc- 
 tions on other points, gave none upon this. All it 
 did was to shew the sufferer how to conduct himself, 
 if relieved. How great, therefore, is the confidence 
 of this sufTerer in the healing power of Jesus of 
 Nazareth, to make him cry out as he does : — ' Sir, 
 if Thou art willing, Thou art able, to cleanse me.' 
 
ITS UNRIVALLED POWER. ^^ 
 
 How great also is the confidence of Jesus in Himself, 
 when He first touches, and then replies to him, ' I 
 am willing : be thou cleansed.' Nor was this con- 
 fidence vain. The thing is no sooner spoken than 
 done. The man's leprosy is gone. His uncleanness 
 is cleansed. Jesus is more than he thought. 
 
 After this, Jesus returns to Capernaum. He meets, 
 as He enters, with a yet greater example of confidence in 
 His power. A Roman centurion approaches Him with 
 an earnest request. A cruel disease, which even modern 
 science finds peculiarly insusceptible of remedial treat- 
 ment, has laid its hand with peculiar severity on one 
 attached to his house. ' My servant lieth at home sick 
 of the palsy, grievously tormented.' With the same 
 confidence as in the previous instance, Jesus replies 
 immediately: 'I will come and heal him.' To this 
 the centurion, most unexpectedly, replies again, in 
 effect : ' Not so, sir, for I am not worthy that Thou 
 shouldest come to my house. Only give Thou the 
 word of command to this sickness, as I do to the 
 soldiers under me, and it will be as sure to obey.' 
 Jesus Himself marvels at such pre-eminent faith in an 
 outsider. And He meets it at once, therefore, if so we 
 may say, by a like pre-eminent boon. All that the 
 centurion has asked for, the helpless anguish of his 
 distant servant receives, ' in that self-same hour.' 
 
 Coming, after this, into ' Peter's house,' Jesus finds 
 that disciple's ' wife's mother ' prostrated by ' fever.' 
 He touches her hand ; the fever is gone, and all its 
 
 E 2 
 
^6 THE MINISTRY OF CHRIST. 
 
 after efifects. Instead of being waited on, she is able 
 to wait upon them. 
 
 Before the end of that day, multitudes in this city 
 of Capernaum have heard of these cures, and bring 
 their afflicted ones to His presence. Jesus is equal 
 to all. With a mysterious depth and intimacy of 
 sympathy, foreseen and admired afar off in the pages 
 of prophecy, He takes the burdens of all on Himself. 
 All, in consequence, are relieved. The very ' devils ' 
 come out, the worst ' infirmities ' vanish, by the mere 
 force of His word. . 
 
 There is danger lest the continually increasing 
 excitement aroused by this succession of marvels 
 should become a hindrance rather than a help to 
 Christ's work as a Teacher. Possibly this is why, 
 ' when He sees great multitudes about Him, He gives 
 commandment to depart unto the other side.' This 
 also may be the reason why He warns a certain 
 stranger who chooses this time for openly offering to 
 follow Him ' whithersoever He goeth,' of the heavy 
 cost of so doing. ' The foxes have holes, and the birds 
 of the air have nests ; but the Son of Man hath not 
 where to lay His head.' And this may be, finally, 
 why He' now teaches another, who calls himself a 
 ' ' disciple ' already, that the cost of discipleship, how- 
 ever heavy, must be fully discharged. ' Follow Me ; 
 and let the dead bury their dead.' Jesus has no wish 
 to be surrounded by idle admirers of the mere mani- 
 festation of power. 
 
ITS UNRIVALLED POWER. 57 
 
 The case is altered, however, when He has left the 
 crowds of Capernaum behind Him, and is out on the 
 sea, in the believing company of His chosen disciples 
 alone. It is good for them to have their faith estab- 
 lished by further proof of His power. First, however, 
 that faith is tried by a storm. Heavy seas cover the 
 vessel. Death seems unavoidable, unless they are 
 delivered by Him. Can He deliver them, lying asleep ? 
 Judging from the touch of rudeness, if not of despair, 
 which marks their appeal to Him, they seem to think 
 not. ' Lordj save us ; we are being lost !' How does 
 Jesus reply .^ First, He rebukes, but in the gentlest 
 manner, the feebleness of their faith. ' Why are ye 
 fearful, O ye of little faith ? ' Then He ' rebukes,' 
 having risen up, ' the winds and the sea.' Immediately, 
 much as in the previous case of the fever, not only do the 
 winds cease, but the effects of them too. The heaving 
 waters become as calm as though they had never been 
 stirred, and there falls also on the disciples themselves 
 a similar awe. ' What manner of man is this-, that 
 even the winds and the sea obey Him !' 
 
 Meanwhile, a worse kind of tempest is raging on 
 land. As Jesus and His disciples disembark in the 
 country of the Gergesenes, they are met by its victims. 
 Two demoniacs, so exceeding fierce that no one 
 might pass by that way, come down to the shore. 
 They have come to supplicate, however, not to attack. 
 The malignant spirits who have ' possession of their 
 faculties cry out by their lips, ' What have we to do 
 
58 THE MINISTRY OF CHRIST. 
 
 with Thee, Jesus, Thou Son of God ? Art Thou come 
 hither to torment us before the time? If Thou dost 
 cast us out, will Thou not at least permit us some 
 other refuge ? May we not enter those swine?' Jesus 
 says to them, ' Go.' They come out, accordingly, and 
 enter the swine, which are to be seen feeding on the 
 mountain side a good way off by the shore of the 
 lake. In a moment there is a sudden downward 
 frantic rush of all the unclean beasts into the waters of 
 the sea. The next moment there is an almost equally 
 sudden and terrified flight of all the swineherds to tell 
 the tidings at home. Before long all the inhabitants 
 of the city are seen coming out to meet Christ. 
 They do meet Him, but only to entreat Him that they 
 may see Him no more. Such is the homage — the 
 terrified homage — which they pay to His power. 
 
 Back again in ' His own city,' we read of further 
 wonderful deeds. The first of these is in direct con- 
 nection with the peculiar dignity of His claims. 
 Certain persons bring unto Him a poor man so afflicted 
 with palsy that he can only lie helplessly on his bed. 
 ' Seeing their faith,' Jesus at once directs His mercy to 
 the deepest need of their friend. ' Son, be of good 
 cheer ; thy sins be forgiven thee.' To some there, such 
 language has a simply blasphemous sound. Jesus, 
 therefore, replies next to their thoughts. He justifies 
 His words by His actions. By manifestly remitting 
 part of the consequences of sin. He shews His right to 
 assure men of the remission of its guilt. The man had 
 
ITS UNRIVALLED POWER. 59 
 
 been brought there as a burden. Jesus bids him take 
 up the bed he had been brought on, and himself carry 
 it home. The multitude see him do so ; and, with 
 just discrimination, glorify God for giving such 
 ' authority' unto men. 
 
 We read next of the caUing of Matthew himself, 
 while engaged in his work as a tax-gatherer or 
 ' publican ;' of certain difficulties which seem to have 
 arisen in consequence between the Pharisees and the 
 disciples of Christ ; and of certain other not very 
 dissimilar difficulties between His disciples and the 
 disciples of John the Baptist. Postponing the con- 
 sideration of these topics till they come before us 
 again (as they speedily will), we come upon a miracle 
 next, in which the amazing power of Jesus is mani- 
 fested in a wholly new sphere. A certain ' ruler ' asks 
 Him, in effect, to restore life to the dead. 'My 
 daughter is even now dead ; but come and lay Thy 
 hand upon her, and she shall live.' The Saviour arises 
 without demur, and proceeds towards the man's house. 
 The disciples go with Him too. Whilst on His way, 
 there comes another appeal — a kind of parenthetical 
 appeal — to His power. A poor woman, who has 
 suffered for twelve weary years from an issue of blood, 
 comes behind Him in the press. ' If I may but touch 
 the hem of His garment,' she says to herself, ' it will 
 do.' The appeal of that touch, though but a mute 
 one, reaches His heart. Turning Him about in the 
 fulness of His mercy and power. He blesses and 
 
6o THE MINISTRY OF CHRIST. 
 
 restores her both in body and soul ; and then proceeds 
 to the house of the dead. There He finds all the 
 usual evidences of the presence of death. So much 
 so, that when He gives expression to certain mysterious 
 words of consolation and hope, which imply a con- 
 tinuance of life in this case, they are received with 
 derision and scorn. There, nevertheless, by the touch 
 of His hand, these words are justified to the full. 
 Death itself, in His presence, is found to be only a 
 ' sleep.' She who had certainly died is alive again, and 
 the land is alive with the new^s. 
 
 Two blind men — not blind in mind — come to Him 
 next. ' Jesus, Thou Son of David ' — so they cry as they 
 follow His footsteps — ' have mercy upon us.' Before 
 He relieves them, they must confess openly their faith 
 in His power. ' Believe ye that I am able to do this?' 
 They say unto Him : ' Yea, Lord ;' and He touches 
 their eyes. With the touch their sight is restored. 
 With the restoration comes the injunction — the well- 
 nigh severe injunction, as the word seems to signify — 
 not to tell other men of this deed. As before, Jesus 
 shrinks from the very suspicion of making a display 
 of His power. 
 
 The blind men, notwithstanding this injunction, 
 depart open-mouthed. Then a dumb man is brought 
 in. A certain cruel Satanic power lies at the root of 
 his silence. But when Jesus speaks, he is compelled 
 to speak too. Hearing this, the multitudes, in turn, 
 speak their unbounded surprise. ' It was never so 
 
ITS UNRIVALLED POWER. 6l 
 
 seen in Israel.' Last of all, even unbelief itself, in its 
 unwilling fashion, confesses as much. ' He casteth out 
 devils,' the Pharisees say, ' through the prince of the 
 devils.' This is the voice, in reality, of despair. No 
 one offers so suicidal a solution who has anything 
 better to urge. 
 
 After all, however, in this constellation of wonders, 
 we have only a sample, as it were, of this sky. Every- 
 wdiere and everywhen else, at this time, whithersoever 
 Jesus goes — so the Evangelist tells us next — similar 
 miracles are repeated. It is not necessary that he 
 should give these in detail after what he has done. 
 The reason why he details the others, in all proba- 
 bility, is because they came to pass in Capernaum 
 about the time of his own call to discipleship ; and so, 
 not impossibly, had much to do with fixing his atten- 
 tion on, and confirming his faith in, the mission of 
 Christ. Anyhow-, looked upon as specimens of His 
 doings, what a picture of power they present. We 
 saw before that He was ' mighty in word.' These 
 shew that He is also ' mighty in deed.' If He speaks 
 with authority. He acts with power. Nothing is 
 beyond His easy control. He has power over sick- 
 ness, whatever its nature. Power over the elements, 
 whatever their condition. Power over devils, however 
 malignant and many. Power over death, however 
 complete its control. Last of all, and most of all — 
 if so we may venture to express ourselves — power 
 over Himself. Everything required for the success 
 
62 THE MINISTRY OF CHRIST. 
 
 of His mission, or for the relief of suffering humanity, 
 is vouchsafed by Him without stint. Nothing is done, 
 nothing is encouraged — everything rather is strictly 
 forbidden — which would merely magnify His personal 
 fame. Even the ' last infirmity of noble minds ' is 
 banished from His ! 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ITS FEW HELPS. 
 Matt. ix. 36-38, X. 
 
 Twice before, in this narrative, has special mention 
 been made of the 'multitudes' about Christ. In the 
 first instance (ch. v. i), the sight led to the promulga- 
 tion of that special code of instruction, the Sermon 
 on the Mount. In the second instance (ch. viii. 18), 
 the sight induced Him — probably, as we saw, with the 
 view of avoiding misconception and hindrance — to 'give 
 commandment to depart to the other side.' A third 
 result, different from either, is described to us now. 
 This time the spectacle fills Him with a mingled feel- 
 ing of compassion and want ; of compassion, when He 
 thinks of the necessities of the multitude ; of want, 
 when He remembers His own. As the sheep of His 
 pasture, ' scattered ' and ready to ' faint,' they require 
 to be gathered together and fed. As claiming Him- 
 self to be a greater and truer shepherd than any 
 before, what He requires now is a supply of under- 
 shepherds to assist in His work. In other words, as 
 He next puts it Himself, what He specially needs now 
 is a supply of reapers for the in-gathering of the 
 
64 THE MINISTRY OF CHRIST. 
 
 'harvest.' This is the difficulty which the .very- 
 success of His ministry has brought into being. A 
 ' harvest ' of souls, ready for reaping, is standing all 
 round. A supply of ' labourers,' ready to reap it, 
 does not at present exist. The one is ' plenteous ;' 
 the others are ' few.' 
 
 In this state of things it is specially the duty of 
 all His true disciples to join together in prayer. 
 Prayer is a proper refuge in all emergencies. It is 
 specially proper in this. In providing labourers for 
 ' His harvest,' who so willing to hear, who so likely to 
 answer, and who so able, if need be, even to constrain 
 men to give their assistance, as 'the Lord of the 
 harvest HimxSelf?' This, therefore, is the first thing 
 to be done. Do ' ye,' My disciples, see to it, that ye 
 do not fail on this point. 
 
 But, if prayer is first, action is next. The Lord 
 Jesus, accordingly, proceeds next to an important first 
 step in this line. He solemnly sets apart a certain 
 number of chosen disciples to be ' sent out ' in His 
 name ; and to bear, in consequence, the name of 
 'Apostles,' i.e. of persons 'sent forth.' The helpers 
 thus selected, however, are only twelve in number, all 
 told, and including among them even that one who 
 afterwards turned out to be false. Neither have any 
 among them any appearance of being persons of 
 station or mark. Four of them we have already 
 heard of as being originally fishermen by occupation, 
 a fact which certainly would not be any special 
 
ITS FEW HELPS. '65 
 
 recommendation to them in going forth as Apostles. 
 Another of them we have also heard of already as 
 being originally a ' publican,' a fact which would 
 undoubtedly be greatly against him in almost every 
 one's eyes. Altogether, therefore, the men chosen to 
 be Apostles of Christ do not appear to have been in 
 any way a distinguished set, until thus distinguished 
 by Him. 
 
 We find, also, that they are only sent out at first to 
 a strictly limited field. Into the wide 'way of the 
 Gentiles,' and even into the neighbouring ' cities of the 
 Samaritans,' their feet are expressly forbidden to 
 travel. All these, in fact, they are to leave on one 
 side, in order entirely to concentrate their attention 
 on ' Israel's ' perishing ' sheep.' Also, even in Israel 
 itself, they are always to labour in entire dependence 
 on the message which they have to deliver, and on 
 Him who has commissioned them to deliver it. In 
 other respects, their only riches are to be the mira- 
 culous gifts with which He promises so freely to 
 endow them ; their only provision the fatherly suc- 
 cour with which He Himself will assist them ; and 
 their only protection the ultimate blessings or judg- 
 ments which He will send on those who shall either 
 honour or despise their commission. In themselves 
 these Apostles will be as utterly defenceless as so many 
 ' sheep among wolves.' The wisest of creatures, in 
 short, cannot be wiser, neither can the most innocent 
 of creatures be more harmless, than ought to be the 
 
66 THE MINISTRY OF CHRIST. 
 
 case about them. Neither can they again, as a rule, 
 be too suspicious of ' men.' Jewish ' councils ' and 
 ' synagogues,' on the one hand, and Gentile ' kings and 
 governors,' on the other, will agree in hating them 
 for His sake. It is true, indeed, that, in endeavouring 
 to testify for Christ in these difficult circumstances, 
 they may reckon on an amount of assistance from 
 above which shall be as effectual as though the Spirit 
 of their Father had spoken for them Himself. But, 
 except on this side, on no other side, must they look 
 for succour or love. ' All men ' will hate them ; those 
 men the most who ought to love them the most. All 
 men, moreover, will hate them with a degree of hatred 
 against which there is no resource except flight ; and 
 to which, also, there will be no termination till the 
 Son of Man has returned. Hating and reviling Christ 
 Himself, in a word, men, as a rule, will revile and 
 persecute to the end, for His sake, all those that 
 are His. 
 
 Even so, however, His Apostles must not allow 
 themselves to be frightened away from their task. 
 After all, they will only be teaching that which ought 
 to be taught, and which must come to light in the 
 end. Meantime, there is a very definite natural 
 limit, and also a very carefully defined providential 
 limit, to the amount of evil which their direst enemies 
 will be able to inflict. On the other hand, there is 
 hardly any limit to the amount of providential care 
 which will 'be exercised on their account — including, if 
 
ITS FEW HELPS. 6y 
 
 need be, the very 'numbering of their hairs' — if they 
 only confess Christ as they ought. Let them deter- 
 mine, therefore, to face boldly all the evils of which 
 He has told them before, and which He now repeats 
 to them again. Their doing so will prove them 
 indeed to be His. And to be His indeed is to attain 
 — whatever else may betide, and whatever else may 
 be lost — the true end of their lives. For what was 
 Christ their Master Himself, but One ' sent forth ' 
 to do good ? And what will they be in turn, if 
 this be true about them, but men ' sent forth ' in 
 like manner ? Men, therefore, destined to become 
 the source of innumerable blessings to all who receive 
 them as such ? They may judge of this by one fact. 
 Even so cheap a token of sympathy as the giving of 
 ' a cup of cold water ' to one of these ' little ones ' 
 in his Master's name cannot possibly lose its reward. 
 So great is the dignity of being a disciple — how much 
 greater, therefore, that of being an apostle — of such 
 a Master as Christ ! 
 
 These words seem to .enshrine the sentiment which 
 is the sum of the whole. What a Master is Christ ! 
 No master rewards, no master assists with such bounty 
 as He. The men addressed by Him here are all the 
 helpers of which this Gospel informs us. We see 
 what helpers they are. How few in number ! How 
 feeble in power ! Think of describing a company of 
 shepherds as ' sheep among wolves ! ' It is Jesus, in 
 
68 THE MINISTRY OF CHRIST. 
 
 reality, who helps His Apostles ; not they who help 
 Him. So singularly solitary is His ministerial work ! 
 So far is He, throughout, from being in any way 
 dependent on others. His chosen helpers turn out, 
 in reality, to be the men He helps most ! 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 ITS MANY OPPONENTS. 
 Matt, xi, xii. 
 
 After the helpers, such as they are, we come to 
 the opponents of Christ. The same outward success 
 which suggested the calling of the former, provoked 
 the animosity of the latter. We find accordingly, 
 in the two next chapters of our Evangelist's story, 
 that he dwells much on this point. Almost all, indeed, 
 that he tells us here on other subjects may be, as 
 it were, threaded on this. 
 
 This is true, for example, in what he has now to tell 
 us of that 'John the Baptist' of whom he spoke so 
 honourably before. Although still in prison, as when 
 we heard of him last (ch. iv. 12), the growing fame 
 of Jesus of Nazareth has come to his ears. If he 
 himself hears of this fame without jealousy, it would 
 appear that some of his disciples do not. Once before • 
 (Matt. ix. 14), we heard of some of them disputing 
 with the disciples of Christ on a matter of outward 
 observance, but they appear by this time, in some 
 way, to have become further ' offended in ' Christ. 
 Either, therefore, for his own comfort, or else for 
 their edification, John sends two of them to ask Jesus 
 
 F 
 
70 THE MINISTRY OF CHRIST. 
 
 the following question: — 'Art Thou He that should 
 come ; or do we look for another ? ' What an in- 
 quiry from the lips of the man who had come to 
 ' make ready ' His ' way ! ' Is this all that the 
 teaching and example of this John the Baptist have 
 effected thus far ? To think that it should be neces- 
 sary to prove to the disciples of ' John ' who ' Jesus 
 of Nazareth ' is ! 
 
 Moreover, this is not by any means a case by itself; 
 as is shewn, next, by that to which this inquiry led up. 
 Notwithstanding the disappointing character of John's 
 inquiry, he was a truly great man. Jesus insists much 
 upon this. From a spiritual point of view, indeed. He 
 declares plainly that no greater one had preceded him. 
 The last, as it were, of the Old dispensation ; he was 
 also its glory and crown ; and only inferior, in fact, to 
 the New. Yet see how dimly his testimony to Christ 
 has been understood even by those who had professed 
 to receive it ! How plain it is, also, that it had been 
 rejected entirely by the greater part of his hearers ! 
 They had even rejected in a similar manner the testi- 
 mony of Jesus Himself. Altogether perverse, indeed, 
 as to the teaching of both of them, had been the 
 conduct of that 'generation.' The forerunner of 
 Christ, in his holy severity, they had pronounced a 
 demoniac ! The Christ Himself, in His condescending 
 innocence, they have accused of excess ! What a 
 condition of things ! After all the teaching, both of 
 Jesus and John, the mass of their hearers are un- 
 
ITS MANY OPPONENTS. 7 1 
 
 believers in both ! Not a few of them their blasphemers 
 as well ! 
 
 What makes this more serious is another feature, 
 of which Jesus speaks next. There were certain cities 
 in which His teaching might have been expected to 
 meet with signal success. If the many miracles, by 
 which He had heralded and supported that teaching 
 in Chorazin and Bethsaida and Capernaum, had been 
 witnessed in the wealthy Gentile cities of Tyre and 
 Sidon, or even in licentious Sodom itself, this would 
 undoubtedly have been the case. How different the 
 result in these favoured cities of GaHlee, considered as 
 a whole ! Conspicuous for evidence, they have been 
 equally conspicuous for resisting it too ! What an 
 illustration of the deadly nature of the hindrances 
 to His work ! Just there, where His works have been 
 the most marvellous, has the resistance to them, if 
 we may say so, been more marvellous still ! 
 
 The thought leads Him to give utterance to an 
 accurate estimate of the whole of His work. The 
 ' wise and prudent,' the great and prosperous, will 
 not believe in Him, as a rule. In a certain sense, they 
 will be unable to do so on these very accounts. It 
 was not God's will, as it were, that eyes so self-blinded 
 should be capable of seeing the light. That being so, 
 He, for His part, is more than contented — He is even 
 thankful — that so it should be. Must He expect only 
 to labour successfully amongst the ' babes ' and the 
 poor ? Will none but the ' weary and heavy-laden ' in 
 
 F 2 
 
72 THE MINISTRY OF CHRIST. 
 
 lot — will none but the ' meek and lowly in spirit ' — be 
 content to ' learn ' at His mouth ? He will be more 
 than content, on His part, to address Himself specially 
 to such souls. ' Come unto Me, and I will give rest to 
 you' — so He cries out to them^iowever others refuse 
 it. ' Take My yoke upon you, and learn of Me, and 
 ye shall find rest to your souls.' 
 
 About that ' same time ' there took place an occur- 
 rence which gave much additional point to these 
 sayings. One Sabbath day the disciples were passing 
 with Jesus through the fields of ripe corn. Being 
 hungry, and seeing the corn, they ' begin to pluck the 
 ears, and to eat.' Hardly have they begun, however, 
 before, much to their scandal, some of the Pharisees 
 ' see it.' The profound opposition of thought which 
 separated Him and them, was immediately brought to 
 light by the sight. They strongly reprehended, and 
 He as fully defended, what His disciples had done. 
 David himself, in principle, long before, had done a 
 precisely similar thing. Their own temple priests, 
 also, in discharging their duties, were constantly 
 incurring similar blame — that is, in reality, none at 
 all. Had they only known, indeed, who was meant 
 by the Temple, and who was the true ' Lord of the 
 Sabbath,' and for what great ultimate purpose all rites 
 were appointed, they would never have been guilty of 
 thus attaching blame to those who were deserving of 
 none. But, as things are now, where is the likelihood 
 of their accepting truth from His lips? That which, 
 
ITS MANY OPPONENTS. 73 
 
 with Him, is but a means at the best, they idoHse 
 as an end. 
 
 This hopeless diversity is still more accentuated 
 very soon after, if not on the very same day. Jesus 
 'departs thence,' it is said, and goes into 'their' 
 synagogue. There He finds a 'man' with a 'withered 
 hand.' They seek at once, from their point of view, 
 to make use of his case. ' If we suggest to this Jesus 
 to heal this sufferer. He will be sure to do it, even 
 this Sabbath day ; and His doing so will at once 
 enable us to accuse Him as an offender.' To a 
 certain extent their manoeuvre succeeded. Jesus, 
 while more than justifying Himself by what was 
 constantly done by themselves, heals the man's hand, 
 as expected. Immediately they go out and gather 
 a council, in order thereby to ' destroy Him.' And 
 that with so much eagerness, that, when Jesus 'hears ' 
 of it, He ' withdraws ' from that place. He knows 
 to what cruel lengths some of His opponents are 
 ready to go. 
 
 Not, however, that this leads Him for a moment to 
 forego His labours of love. On the contrary, it is 
 expressly recorded respecting the ' great multitudes ' 
 which follow Him in His retirement, that He ' heals 
 them all.' The only thing He insists on is, that they 
 shall" 'not make Him known.' This was partly, it 
 may be, because of possible danger, under the cir- 
 cumstances, to Himself; but still more, it seems 
 certain, because of probable consequent injury to His 
 
74 THE MINISTRY OF CHRIST. 
 
 ministry; and because nothing, in fact, could be less 
 in accordance with the predicted unobtrusiveness and 
 mercifulness of its spirit. In the case, however, of 
 one peculiarly notable miracle wrought by Him at 
 that time — a miracle in which a certain blind and 
 dumb demoniac is enabled both to see and to speak — 
 neither the fact itself nor its significance admits of 
 being concealed. The people, therefore, on the one 
 hand, say, Who is this but the son of David ? The 
 Pharisees, on the other hand, say, This is Satan 
 divided against himself. A palpable subterfuge which 
 Jesus pronounces to be equally blasphemous and 
 absurd. Nothing, indeed, could well be 7/io;r blas- 
 phemous, according to Him. To such awful lengths 
 do some of His opponents now actually go ! They 
 approach to the verge, if they do not actually trans- 
 gress it, of the one unpardonable transgression ^ We 
 need not wonder that He does not see fit to gratify 
 unbelief such as this with a mere miracle of display : 
 already the men of that generation had seen greater 
 wonders than any generation before. Or that He 
 does see fit, in the end, to retort the charge which 
 they have so daringly brought against Him. True 
 and increasing Satanic assistance and co-operation 
 and possession, there is indeed in this case. Only it 
 is to be found with those who are thus opposed to 
 His merciful labours in that 'wicked generation;' and 
 not with Himself! 
 
 ' While He yet talks ' in this manner, He receives a 
 
ITS MANY OPPONENTS. 75 
 
 message which adds an exceedingly painful finishing 
 touch to this part of His story. Outside the house 
 are standing certain persons who are ' desirous to 
 speak with Him.' They are His nearest relatives 
 upon earth. They have not come, however, in order 
 to hear Him, but in order to interrupt Him in His 
 labours. That- this was indeed the purpose of their 
 request, and how deeply, as such, it was felt by Him, 
 His reception of it makes plain. ' My mother and 
 My brethren!' Are these the words ye employed? 
 are they, also, opposed to My work? In that case, 
 I must give their name to others instead. Only those 
 who accept My teaching, none of those who reject 
 My teaching, are true kinsfolk of Mine ! 
 
 Such is the result, so far, of Christ's message to 
 men. A few among them have really believed. Many 
 times more, have disbelieved and despised. Not a few 
 have even come to hate Him as well. In every way 
 the outlook is of the most serious kind. Even amongst 
 those supposed to be ' prepared ' for Him, there is the 
 most grievous lack of knowledge and faith. Even 
 where He has laboured the most He. seems to have 
 succeeded the least. As for the ' wise and prudent ' 
 in the eyes of the world — as for those generally looked 
 up to as authorities on questions of faith — they are 
 none of them on His side. Many of them, on the 
 contrary, are against Him with a degree of subtlety 
 and malignity that seem to be inspired of Satan him- 
 self. The very mother that bare Him, at the present 
 
76 THE MINISTRY OF CHRIST. 
 
 moment, is out of sympathy with Him. So doubly 
 sohtary is His work upon earth ! His friends, as we 
 saw, are very feeble and few ; His enemies are cor- 
 respondingly many and mighty! He has little help, 
 if any, at home ; He has every hindrance abroad ! 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 ITS SINGULAR WISDOM. 
 Matt. xiii. 
 
 We have just seen that two principal features mark 
 the position of Christ at this stage. On the one hand, 
 He is surrounded by a fe\^ disciples who are in con- 
 tinual need of His help. On the other, He is confronted 
 by many opponents of the most irreconcilable stamp. 
 How can He deal best, in His further teaching, with 
 two such widely differentiated classes of hearers ? with 
 this humble dependence? with this implacable pride? 
 
 The next portion of St. Matthew's .Gospel seems 
 to turn on this point. It begins by telling us of a 
 method of procedure on the part of Christ as a teacher 
 not mentioned before. This method is first adopted 
 ' on the same day ' as that on which the wide-spread 
 opposition aroused by His preaching had been made 
 so painfully plain. Leaving the ' house ' where He 
 had spoken last on this subject. He takes His seat by 
 the sea. So great multitudes there gather together 
 in order to hear Him, that He finds it necessary to 
 enter into a ship. From that conveniently separated 
 position He addresses these multitudes as they stand 
 on the shore. But all He says to them thus — and 
 
78 THE MINISTRY OF CHRIST. 
 
 He has much to say — is couched in a shape of its 
 own. ' He speaks many things to them in parables.' 
 We are to understand, evidently, that there is some- 
 thing marked in this change. If ever at all before, 
 certainly never so abundantly before, has He in- 
 structed men on this wise. 
 
 It is a noteworthy fact that the first of the series 
 of parables introduced to us thus, is one that speaks 
 very largely of labour in vain. So far, indeed, as the 
 outward framework of this well-known ' Parable of 
 the Sower ' is concerned, this seems the chief impres- 
 sion produced. At the best, the labour described in 
 it is only a more or less distant approach to success 
 in three cases out of four. It i§ a true success only in 
 one. In that one case, the labour employed is de- 
 scribed as being abundantly fruitful, no doubt — ' some 
 thirtyfold, some sixtyfold, some a hundredfold.' But 
 in every other case it is described, in reality, as being 
 entirely fruitless. Is the Saviour still thinking of the 
 many hindrances to His own work when He speaks in 
 this manner ? He is certainly referring to that which, 
 in His judgment, deserved attention as much. ' He 
 that hath ears to hear, let him hear.' 
 
 The disciples naturally ask the reason of this new 
 manner of speech. ' Why speakest Thou unto them 
 in parables?' The Master's answer points to that 
 very distinction to which we adverted just now. 
 There is a difference. He says, both as to purpose 
 and character, between others and you. You are 
 
ITS SINGULAR WISDOM. 79 
 
 destined to ' know ' these ' mysteries,' which shall be 
 mysteries for ever to them. Even if you are not 
 very wise at this moment, you possess at least the 
 seed of wisdom in being willing to learn. That 'little,' 
 therefore, in your case, shall in time become much. 
 They, on the other hand, possess comparatively 
 ' nothing,' because unwilling to learn. Consequently, 
 that ' nothing ' itself, in their case, shall in time be 
 ' taken away.' And why I speak unto themi in parables, 
 is because this form of speech is found to accomplish 
 both these two ends at one time. On the one hand, 
 its outward obscurity doubles the darkness of the 
 many eyes that close themselves against truth — just 
 as prophecy said that it would. On the other hand, 
 its inward radiance enlightens beyond anything else 
 the eyes of those who really look for that radiance — 
 as is the happy case with yourselves. 
 
 When this particular parable itself comes to be 
 interpreted, it is found to carry on the same thought. 
 Yes, it zuas of Himself that Christ was thinking when 
 He put this parable forth. That ' word of the king- 
 dom ' which He was then engaged in preaching was 
 what He meant by the ' seed.' The different soils on 
 which the seed is described as falling, correspond to 
 the different classes of hearers to whom that word 
 was then being 'addressed. And the varied results 
 which were flowing then from His labours, and the 
 diverse reasons which accounted for them, are what the 
 rest of the parable shews. This, at any rate, it signified 
 
8o THE MINISTRY. OF CHRIST. 
 
 at the first. Afterwards, no doubt, just because it 
 signified this at the first, it also signifies more. 
 
 ' Another parable ' is put- forth, next, which is also 
 about ' seed.' In the previous one, the evil depicted 
 had been principally of a negative kind. The seed 
 sown, as a rule, had not produced fruit. In the pre- 
 sent parable we hear of evil in a more positive form. 
 We hear of direct efforts in opposition to the man 
 who has sowed good seed in his field. His ' enemy- 
 comes, and sows tares.' We hear, also, of the con- 
 sternation excited by the discovery of this fact. To 
 think of such things having found a place in that 
 householder's field ! And after all his labour and care ! 
 ' Didst not thou sow good seed in thy field ? From 
 whence, then, hath it tares ? ' And yet, in conclusion, 
 notwithstanding all this, and to the still greater sur- 
 prise of "this householder's servants, we hear of this 
 evil, for the present, at least, being allowed to remain. 
 At 'the time of harvest' — but not till then — shall it 
 be taken away. 
 
 While the disciples are pondering the meaning of 
 this parable, two others are added, both of them 
 having to do, apparently, with the question of the 
 growth of ' the Kingdom.' Outwardly, it is to develop 
 as ' a grain of mustard seed' does, viz., so as to reach 
 larger dimensions in proportion to its beginning than 
 any other seed known. Inwardly, on the other hand, 
 it is to prevail and conquer in secret, after the manner 
 of ' leaven hid in a lump,' ' until the whole is leavened.' 
 
ITS SINGULAR WISDOM. 8 1 
 
 Thus strictly does Jesus, at this season, observe His 
 new rule. ' Without a parable ' He never speaks to 
 ' them ' now. This is another of those many points in 
 which the spirit of prophecy, whilst speaking appa- 
 rently only of others, is found to be describing, 
 perhaps unconsciously, what is pre-eminently true 
 about Him : 1 1 will open my mouth in parables ; I 
 will utter things which have been kept secret from the 
 foundation of the world.' 
 
 This, however, is only to ' them,' i.e., to His hearers 
 at large. To His own disciples, after the ' multitude ' 
 has been 'sent away,' and when they and He are 'in the 
 house ' by themselves. He ' declares the parable of the 
 Tares of the Field.' He explains to them, in so many 
 words, that is to say, who is meant by the 'sower,' viz., 
 Himself; what is meant by the 'field,' viz., the 'world;' 
 who are the ' reapers,' viz., the ' angels ; ' and what is 
 the appointed time of separation, viz., ' the end of the 
 world.' Also, in regard to those three other parables 
 which immediately follow, viz., those of 'the Treasure 
 hid in the Field,' the ' Pearl of Great Price,' and the 
 ' Net drawn to the Shore,' we find Him observing what 
 amounts, in reality, to a very similar rule. He does 
 not, indeed, exactly ' declare ' these parables to His 
 friends ; but He appears only to refrain from doing so 
 because He ascertains from themselves that they 
 understand them already. Possibly, this itself is some 
 evidence, on their part, of the success of His plan. 
 The ' little ' they began with has been already increased. 
 
82 ' THE MINISTRY OF CHRIST. 
 
 They have now become skilful, comparatively- 
 speaking, in knowing what parables mean. Perhaps, 
 also, it is for the same reason that He, as it were, 
 finally clenches all these parables, by another parable 
 still. ' Have ye understood all these things ? They 
 say unto Him, Yea, Lord. Then said He unto them, 
 Therefore every scribe which is instructed unto the 
 kingdom of heaven is like unto a housholder which 
 bringeth forth out of his treasure things new and old.' 
 This, in brief, is what all these parables ought to be 
 to their minds, viz, so many wellnigh inexhaustible 
 treasures of truth ! 
 
 When Jesus has ' finished these parables,' He ' de- 
 parts thence ' unto another country, where we hear 
 of them no more. For the present this sample of this 
 pecuhar method of instruction has answered its end. 
 It has succeeded in 'adding;' and in 'taking away.' 
 It has instructed the ignorant ; and confounded 
 the wise. It has rebuked unbelief; and edified faith. 
 And it has furnished us, therefore, with a striking 
 illustration of the singular wisdom of Christ. No One 
 could have selected an instrument better adapted to 
 the peculiar exigencies of His position. Also, when 
 selected, no one could have employed it with greater 
 judgment and skill. How well this is shewn by the 
 little use made of teaching by ' parables ' since ! Even 
 in the eyes of the world, the touch of Jesus seems to 
 have consecrated it for ever. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 ITS HIGHEST POINT. 
 Matt. xiv. XV. xvi. 1-20. 
 
 Another of our ' longer stages ' now stretches 
 before us. It happens, also, to be a stage of a very- 
 diversified kind. Persons and places, some of them 
 never mentioned elsewhere, come before us in turn, 
 mixed up with miracles, parables, explanations, and 
 episodes of various kinds. Yet, amidst it all, with 
 more or less clearness, there is one idea to be traced. 
 Alike in extent and in depth, alike as to unbelief and 
 to faith, there is a steady increase in the impression 
 produced by the Ministry of Christ Jesus. 
 
 The opening verses (ch. xiii. 54-58) exemplify this 
 feature very vividly in the way of taking offence. 
 Once before we read of His near kinsfolk coming after 
 Him into that part of Galilee in which He was labour- 
 ing, in order to detach Him from His work. It pleases 
 Him now to leave the rest of Galilee in order to come 
 unto them. The inhabitants of Nazareth are so far 
 from appreciating the attention, that they approve of 
 Him even less than before. They are all ' offended in 
 Him,' it is said. They are ' offended in Him,' notwith- 
 standing the fact that they are compelled, in some 
 
84 THE MINISTRY OF CHRIST. 
 
 respects, to admire Him. 'Whence hath this man 
 this wisdom^ and these mighty acts ? ' With His 
 antecedents, it is a dire ofifence to them that He 
 should have become what He is. None of His 
 relatives — and there are plenty of them — have done 
 anything- of the kind. This is exactly the way of envy, 
 all the world over. The higher its object, the greater 
 its depth. In what follows we see its inevitable punish- 
 ment, too. ' He did not many mighty works there 
 because of their unbelief.' 
 
 The next matter mentioned furnishes a similar 
 illustration in the way of causing alarm. Some time 
 before this, Herod the Tetrarch had shut up John the 
 Baptist in prison. After that,.he had reluctantly con- 
 sented to taking his life. Now he hears of another 
 Teacher, and of the mighty works He has done. 
 This is an observable thing of itself. A ruler like 
 Herod would be ' about the last person in all his 
 dominions to become acquainted with this unobtrusive 
 movement for good. If he has heard of Jesus, every 
 one has. All lower heights must have been reached in 
 turn before reaching that summit. The language also 
 employed by Herod, on hearing the report of the doings 
 of Jesus, is a most observable thing. It shews the 
 kind of report he has heard. After hearing it, he is 
 ready to believe even in a rising again from the dead. 
 So far, in fact, as he is concerned, he can only account 
 for it in this way. ' It is John the Baptist ; he is risen 
 from the dead ; and therefore mighty works do shew 
 
ITS HIGHEST POINT. 85 
 
 forth themselves in him.' From the point of view of 
 Herod's experience, what more could he say ? 
 
 The course adopted by Jesus of Nazareth on 
 hearing of what Herod had said illustrates the now 
 rapidly growing fame of His ministry, in the way of 
 observing precaution. The notice of Herod could 
 be nothing but a hindrance to work such as His. 
 He, therefore, ' withdraws ' Himself from it. He 
 withdraws ' by ship ' — perhaps as the quickest and 
 least observable way. • He withdraws, also, to a 
 ' desert place apart,' as to the least observable spot. 
 Evidently, if the thing be feasible, He desires to be 
 by Himself. 
 
 For the present, however,this seems wholly unfeasible, 
 so far as the ' multitudes ' are concerned. From all 
 the neighbouring ' cities,' having found out whither He 
 has gone, they follow Him, in amazing numbers, along 
 the shore of the sea. 
 
 When He learns this. He ' comes forth ' and beholds 
 them ; and the sight touches His heart. With all His 
 present desire for retirement. He can only think, for 
 the time, of their wants ; and proceeds, therefore, as 
 so often before, to ' heal their sick.' The ' evening ' is 
 upon Him — so many are they — by the time He has 
 finished. • The disciples, in consequence, urge Him to 
 send the multitudes home. ' This is a desert place, 
 and the time is now past ;' tell the people to go away 
 and buy themselves food. ' There is no need of this,' 
 the Master answers ; ' do ye give them to eat.' ' How 
 
 G 
 
86 THE MINISTRY OF CHRIST. 
 
 can we give to them,' they reply in effect, ' when we 
 have not enough for ourselves ?' ' Bring it to Me, 
 whatever it is.' When they have clone so, He bids the 
 multitude sit. Then, in His hands, and with His 
 blessing upon it, it becomes enough for them all. 
 They all ' eat.' They all are ' filled.' Afterwards, 
 when the disciples come, as it were, to clear up, 
 although there were only five small loaves to begin, 
 they fill twelve large baskets with the ' fragments that 
 remain.' They do this, moreover, notwithstanding the 
 fact that no fewer than ' five thousand men ' had been 
 at that feast, not counting such women and children as 
 had been able to travel so far. 
 
 This novel and striking manifestation of power is 
 followed up in a very significant way. The astonished 
 disciples are forthwith ' constrained ' to re-enter the 
 ship that had brought them, and to start across the 
 sea by themselves. The still lingering multitudes, 
 when these are gone, are made to go too. Jesus is at 
 last by Himself. 
 
 At the same time, in another sense. He is not by 
 Himself. He is holding communion with God ' in 
 prayer.' And He is doing so with such earnestness 
 that we do not hear of Him again for some hours. 
 The ' evening ' had closed in at the time He began. The 
 ' fourth watch ' has arrived, the dawn is approaching, 
 before the disciples see Him again. 
 
 Was this special earnestness connected with the 
 growing exigencies of His work at that time ? 
 
ITS HIGHEST POINT. 87 
 
 When the disciples do see Him again, it is in most 
 marvellous guise. They are vainly struggling, in the 
 midst of the sea, against contrary winds. They 
 become aware of a Form approaching them over the 
 tempestuous waves. Supposing ft, at first, to be a 
 ' spirit,' they cry out in alarm. Finding it, by and by, 
 instead of this, to be their Master Himself, they are 
 correspondingly re-assured. So much so, indeed, that 
 one among them is immediately ready for a most 
 perilous step. ' Lord,' he says, ' if it be Thou, let me 
 come unto Thee on the water.' See the point to which 
 . the faith of this Peter has now come about Christ. 
 The subsequent failure of his confidence as he en- 
 deavours to walk on the water, his consequent appeal 
 for help to his Master, and the effectual help im- 
 mediately rendered to him, are graciously overruled 
 to raise that faith to a still higher degree. ' O thou 
 of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt ? ' To that 
 question they all feel now that they have nothing to 
 say. They have no reason now for doubting Jesus, 
 let Him say what He may. In sudden silence, there- 
 fore — for the ' wind has ceased ' — they acknowledge 
 as much. Both by action and word they openly 
 confess Him to be ' Son of God beyond doubt ! ' 
 
 This striking confession may prepare us for another, 
 of which we shall presently hear. Meanwhile, in quite 
 another locality, we see the confidence of men in His 
 power. He disembarks in the ' land of Gennesaret.' 
 As soon as the inhabitants discover who has arrived, 
 
 G 2 
 
88 THE MINISTRY OF CHRIST. 
 
 the whole country-side is ahve. All the sick from all 
 round about are hastily brought to His feet. There 
 is but one thing they desire — to touch the hem of His 
 garment. There is but one result when they do — they 
 are made perfectly whole. 
 
 After this — for the first time in this account of the 
 ministry of Jesus — the city of Jerusalem is mentioned. 
 Even in that proud ecclesiastical metropolis, the fame 
 of this provincial teacher seems to be at last making a 
 stir. At any rate, some of the ' Scribes and Pharisees ' 
 who belong to it have ' come down to Jesus,' and are 
 now observing His work. The reception they meet 
 with must have greatly augmented that stir. Any- 
 thing more revolutionary and uncompromising, from 
 their point of view, than the answer of Jesus could not 
 well be conceived. When they take His disciples to 
 task for the measure of liberty which He has allowed 
 them, they are taken to task in their turn. The very 
 words also of their own prophetical scriptures are 
 deliberately quoted against them. And even those 
 multitudes who had been so long accustomed to 
 receive their teaching A\'ithout misgiving or question 
 are ' called ' up, and taught to regard it as something 
 radically unsound. Such war to the knife appears to 
 have astonished the disciples themselves ; and must 
 have greatly deepened the impression made as well 
 on others as on them. 
 
 It is not surprising therefore to read, next, of Jesus 
 ' withdrawing ' again. This time He does so to a part 
 
ITS HIGHEST POINT. (S9 
 
 of the country where we have never heard of Him yet, 
 viz., where the territory of Israel meets with that of 
 Sidon and Tyre. Yet even there He is known. One is 
 there, at any rate, who knows as much of Him as any 
 in Galilee do. She knows His power. She knows His 
 mercy. She knows and believes in His claims. ' Have 
 mercy on me, O Lord, Thou Son of David ; my 
 daughter is grievously vexed with a devil.' What a 
 lesson to those ' disciples ' who hear her cry out ! 
 Also, what a revelation to ///r///, to find //cr ultimately 
 commended and blessed ! 
 
 Once more the Saviour is near His favourite lake. 
 Again the thronging multitudes are bringing their af- 
 flicted ones to His feet. Again those afflicted ones, 
 however afflicted, are relieved by His power. This 
 time, the effect on the bystanders seems to be greater 
 than ever before. The multitude ' wonder ' when 
 they see what takes place. Much as they had seen 
 previously, they seem to be seeing more now ; even 
 ' the dumb to speak, the maimed to be whole, the 
 lame to walk, and the blind to see.' And, as they 
 see it, they a;re unable to refrain from giving glory 
 to God. A loud murmur of devout praise rises up 
 from them all. 
 
 This special feeling of wonder seems to have led for a 
 time to some degree of forgetfulness even of hunger and 
 thirst. So, at least, the words of Jesus Himself seem to 
 imply : ' They continue with Me now three days, and 
 have nothing to eat.' In other respects the general 
 
90 ■ THE MINISTRY OF CHRIST. 
 
 circumstances are almost identical with some related 
 to us before. What wonder, therefore, that we find 
 this ' history ' repeating itself, as it were ; and that, 
 hearing again, as we do, of so many in want, we also 
 hear again of the same tenderness and discrimination 
 of compassion, the same manifested shortness of supply, 
 the same inadequacy of resource on the part of the 
 disciples, the same weakness of faith, the same fulness 
 of blessing, the same bountifulness of relief! To say 
 nothing, in addition, of the same careful absence of 
 waste, the same ample abundance of evidence, the same 
 exact computation of numbers, and the same anxiety, 
 when all is completed, to send the multitude home ! 
 
 Unbelief, however, is not to be silenced even by 
 accumulation of proof. The Pharisees and Sadducees, 
 therefore — united for once — demand additional ' signs.' 
 Inasmuch, however, as additional signs upon earth 
 can hardly be thought of, even by them, they ask to 
 have them ' from heaven.' Jesus, in answer to this, with 
 one brief and well-merited word of reproof, and one 
 also of mysterious promise, exposes them and departs. 
 
 He has crossed the sea and reached the ' other side,' 
 but is still full of this subject. So much so that He 
 earnestly enjoins on His own disciples to ' beware ' of 
 that settled and deadly ' leaven,' of which they had just 
 seen an example. It is not, however, until He has 
 explained Himself further that they comprehend what 
 He means. Then they appear to lay it to heart with 
 a will. Not only do they understand that they are to 
 
ITS HIGHEST POINT. 9 1 
 
 listen to Him, they also understand that to their 
 former teachers they are to listen no more. 
 
 From such a conclusion it is but a step to one very 
 much wider. Once again we find Jesus of Nazareth 
 on the outskirts of the land. This time He is in 
 . ' the parts of Csesarea Philippi,' under the shadow of 
 .Mount Hermon, and far away to the north. His 
 disciples are with Him alone. He takes the oppor- 
 tunity of ascertaining the results of His labours, so far. 
 In His judgment, the time has come for this step. He 
 asks them first, therefore, as Ave should say, about the 
 public at large. 'Whom do men say that I am?' The 
 answers given vary in form, but are one in effect. ' They 
 speak of Thee as being as great as any one ever hitherto 
 sent.' ' He saith unto them, But whom say ye that I 
 am? ' The most forward amongst them answers for all. 
 ' Thou art the Christ, the Son of the Living God.' 
 
 The mountain solitudes which hear that confession 
 do not understand its importance. 
 
 Its exceeding importance in the eyes of Him who 
 received it is made in many ways plain. 
 
 First of all, by the extraordinary fervour which 
 marks His reply : ' Blessed art thou ' (whoever thou 
 art) who hast outspoken those words. 
 
 Next, by the emphatic directness of its application 
 and address. ' Blessed art tJioti,, Simon Bar-jona,' who 
 liast spoken out thus. Others there are who think as 
 much, and who are therefore ' blessed ' as well. But 
 not so blessed as thou. 
 
92 THE MINISTRY OF CHRIST. 
 
 Also, by the height of origin to which this confession 
 is traced. ' Flesh and blood hath not revealed it unto 
 thee, but My Father which is in heaven.' 
 
 Also, yet, by the decided progress of which it is 
 pronounced to be proof. ' I say unto thee, that thou 
 art Peter! I pronounce thee to be a ' stone ' indeed 
 — in fact, the first stone in My Church. 
 
 Finally, by the future hopes of which it is hailed 
 as a pledge. Having thus actually begun. He can 
 also go on, to build. Also, He can build in safety 
 now, because on the ' rock ' of this truth. None of 
 His enemies, not even ' the gates of hell,' shall be able 
 to overthrow what He builds. Neither shall any of 
 His friends, though in themselves the weakest, be 
 unable to assist in His work. Every one of them, 
 rather, thus confessing Him, shall be, in fact, as Him- 
 self. ' I will give unto thee the keys of the kingdom 
 of. heaven : and whatsoever thou shalt bind on earth 
 shall be bound in heaven : and whatsoever thou shalt 
 loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.' 
 
 Thus solemnly is this first open confession of Jesus 
 of Nazareth as the Christ, welcomed by Him as the 
 culmination of His strictly ministerial work. 
 
 For the present, however, in regard to it, He 
 enjoins silence upon all. Indirectly, they have all 
 joined with Peter in acknowledging Him as the Christ. 
 They must be content with that for the present. 
 Much has to happen before they can be commissioned 
 to proclaim Him to the world. 
 
PART IV. 
 
 THE PASSION OF CHRIST. 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 
 A CHANGE OF VOICE. 
 Matt. xvi. 21-28, xvii. xviii. xix. xx. 
 
 The moment a traveller has left any station of 
 importance fairly behind him, he begins to think of 
 the next. It was so with the ilkistrious Traveller 
 of the story before us. No sooner has He been 
 openly acknowledged and saluted as Christ, than He 
 begins to think of His death. That death, as it were, 
 is now ' waiting for Him in the path He' is treading. 
 In following that path, it is the great thing for which 
 He has next to prepare. Knowing this. He naturally 
 begins to think of it, and also to speak of it, much. 
 He would have His disciples begin to prepare for it 
 too. He begins to ' shew ' unto them, therefore (as 
 we noticed before), how He ' must go unto Jerusalem, 
 and suffer many things of the chief priests and scribes, 
 and be killed, and be raised again the third day.' He 
 continues, also, so we are told, to speak in this 
 manner ' from that time forth.' Henceforward, there 
 is something of the shadow of death in almost all that 
 He says. 
 
 How great a change this implied on His part, is 
 shewn by the change to which it leads on the part of 
 
i)6 THE PASSION OF CHRIST. 
 
 His disciples. On Peter, especially, the result is most 
 marked. Only just before he had saluted his Master 
 as the greatest of men, if not as very much more. 
 ' Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God.' 
 Now he dares to find open fault with Him for what 
 He is saying. Now, by his gestures, he even seems 
 inclined to hold Him back from such speech. He 
 ' takes Him,' it is said, and begins to ' rebuke ' Him. 
 ' What can the Master be thinking of to be thus 
 hard on Himself? Why is He predicting what cannot 
 possibly become true about Him ? ' 
 
 If this ardent disciple had not been startled out of 
 himself by what he had heard, he could never have 
 forgot himself thus. 
 
 The reception which his ' rebuke ' meets with, is of 
 a most remarkable kind. In a different way, Jesus 
 attaches as much importance to it as to his previous 
 confession. He had traced that to heaven. He traces 
 this to hell. He repels it, therefore, with a degree 
 of fervour only equalled by that with which He had 
 welcomed the other. He even addresses Peter, in 
 consequence, as once before He had addressed the 
 Adversary himself. That Evil One, in the wilderness, 
 had tempted Him by the offer of a magnificent crown. 
 He refused it at once. Peter's present language 
 amounts to a suggestion that He should spare Him- 
 self an equally terrible cross. He refuses this in like 
 manner. Come from whom it may, the suggestion is as 
 hateful to Him as was the direct offer of Satan. And 
 
A CHANGE OF VOICE. 97 
 
 Peter himself, therefore, who has made the suggestion, 
 is addressed as a hke 'Adversary' for so doing. ' Get. 
 thee behind Me, Satan : thou art an offence unto Me : 
 thy thoughts are man's thoughts, not God's.' 
 
 This to the man to whom He had said, only a httle 
 before, ' God has taught thee this, and not man ! ' 
 
 Tlie distance between these two utterances is the 
 measure of the lesson which the disciples have to be 
 taught. 
 
 Their Master, therefore, next presents it to them 
 from a different side. In language, the force of which 
 they would better appreciate by and by. He teaches 
 them that f/iey must suffer as well as Himself. ' Any. 
 man' whatever, in short, wishing to 'come after ' Him, 
 must be prepared to ' deny himself ' in like manner. 
 ' Bearing the cross ' was their duty as well as His. 
 It was also their wisdom. It was their only wisdom, 
 in fact. After the ' sufferings ' would' follow the 
 ' glory ' of Christ. The utmost endured for His sake 
 would be more than made up in that glory. So much 
 so, indeed, that the only true way of really ' finding ' 
 their lives was by ' losing ' them in that manner. 
 
 He adds, that an opportunity of witnessing some- 
 thing of this glory (and so, of testing the value and 
 truth of these declarations) would be furnished to 
 some of them before they ' tasted of death.' 
 
 The fulfilment of this promise came to pass about 
 a week from that date. Peter, James, and John are 
 taken up into ' a high mountain apart.' For the time, 
 
98 THE PASSION OF CHRIST. 
 
 they are almost in a separate world. Their Master's 
 appearance is ' transfigured ' with glory so as they had 
 never seen it before. Certain chief representatives of 
 tlie inspiration and piety of the past are seen witli 
 Him also. Full of rapture, all that Peter desires is to 
 stay for evermore in that scene. Presently, in an over- 
 shadowing cloud of brightness, they hear a mysterious 
 ' voice ' which proclaims, ' This is My beloved Son, in 
 whom I am well pleased; hear ye Him.' Then the 
 vision is gone ; the mountain is bare ; they are again 
 with 'Jesus alone.' 
 
 Again for the present, they are to tell no man of 
 the vision they have seen. Not, in fact, till the ' Son 
 of Man be risen from the dead ' are they to speak of 
 its secrets. This dark announcement was followed by 
 many surmisings,and by much instruction respecting the 
 expected return of Elias, and the mission of. John the 
 Baptist, and his rejection and death. And this, in 
 turn, led to another expHcit mention of the coming 
 passion of Christ. ' Likewise also shall the Son of 
 Man suffer ' at the hands of mankind. 
 
 The sufferings of Christ, however, are to complete 
 His work, not to impede it. Jesus seems to be mindful 
 of this when He comes down from the mount. During 
 His absence, those disciples whom He had left behind 
 had been trying their hands in vain on a peculiarly 
 distressing and difficult case of demoniac possession. 
 Seeing Him return, the ail-but despairing father of the 
 suffering little one comes and implores His help. Im- 
 
A CHANGE OF VOICE. 99 
 
 mediately — notwithstanding the fact that the thought 
 of His own sufferings is still present to His' mind ; as 
 also, it seems, is the cause of them in the unbelief of the 
 age, together with the near proximity of them in the 
 appointed order of time — Jesus terminates those of 
 the child. ' O faithless and perverse generation, how 
 long shall I be with you? How long shall I bear 
 with you? Bring him hither to Me.' The child is 
 brought ; the devil rebuked ; the deliverance wrought. 
 A lasting lesson to the perplexed disciples on the 
 omnipotence of true faith. 
 
 After this we find Jesus and His disciples ' abiding ' 
 again — or, as some have it, ' gathering together ' again 
 — in the familiar regions of Galilee. We also find the 
 same general characteristics, whilst they are staying 
 there, in the tone of His words. 
 
 As before, for example, we find Him speaking of 
 His approaching death with a degree of explicitness 
 which causes the disciples — though they shew it now 
 in a different manner — to be ' exceedingly grieved.' 
 The chief difference now seems to be in the express 
 mention of that cruel betrayal which was to lead to 
 His death. ' The Son of Man shall be delivered into 
 the hands of men,' As they come gradually nearer 
 to the place of His suffering, He gradually reveals 
 more to them of that fast-gathering storm. 
 
 As before, also, we find Him directing His chief 
 instructions now to that little band of disciples from 
 whom He is to be separated so soon. The miracle of 
 
lOO THE PASSION OF CHRIST. 
 
 the Transfiguration had been for the instruction of 
 Peter, James, and John. The miracle of the coin .in 
 the fish's mouth seems to be for that of Peter alone. 
 Afterwards, the lesson taught by it as to the paramount 
 necessity of avoiding all unnecessary offence, is enforced 
 further by calling a little child, and setting him in the 
 midst, and making use of him as a kind of living text 
 on this subject. And, after that again, the question 
 of Peter as to the proper limit of forgiveness in the 
 case of an offending brother is utilized in a similar 
 manner. Also, in all the instruction thus offered to 
 the disciples on these various points, we seem to note 
 a special appropriateness to their circumstances at this 
 time. Only a little before, by means of the confession 
 of Peter, Christ had founded His Church. In a little 
 time after (as He was perpetually reminding them), 
 He was to be taken away from that Church. Now, 
 therefore, is the time to remind them again of its 
 existence and rights. Now, also, is the time to warn 
 them of the certain rise of offences within it ; and to 
 enlighten them also respecting the wisest methods of 
 dealing therewith. The Church thus founded must 
 be listened to on pain of separation therefrom. It is 
 a grievous thing to cause just offence even to the 
 weakest of its members. It is infinitely more grievous, 
 by not forgiving such offences, to offend against God. 
 Worthy lessons these, and weighty ones too, for all 
 times of the Church. Doubly opportune for its infant 
 condition, and when just about to be left. 
 
A. CHANGE OF VOICE. lOI 
 
 ' When Jesus has finished these sayings, He departs 
 from Galilee, and comes into the borders of Judaea 
 beyond Jordan.' 
 
 While staying there also, it is to His disciples still 
 that His chief instructions are given. 
 
 The ailing multitudes come, it is true, and are 
 healed. The Pharisees, also, with their insidious 
 questions respecting marriage and divorce, come to 
 Him, and are answered. But the answer received 
 by them, if not intended, in the first instance, for the 
 special enlightenment of the disciples, is exactly of 
 such a nature as first to revolutionise, and then to 
 establish, their ideas on these points. This is shewn 
 by the fact that the closing inquiry on these subjects 
 is addressed to their Master, not by the Pharisees, but 
 by them. 
 
 In a similar way, the ' little children ' that are then 
 brought to Christ for His blessing, are employed by 
 Him to teach certain lessons to the 'disciples' respect- 
 ing His kingdom and those who really belong to it, 
 which they appear to have needed specially at that 
 particular time. 
 
 In a similar way, again, the case of the young man 
 who believed himself to have ' lack ' of nothing, either 
 for this world or the next, is employed by the Saviour 
 to teach the ' disciples ' how hard it is for those who 
 have ' great earthly possessions,' to secure heavenly 
 treasures as well. It is the same ' disciples,' once 
 more, who are encouraged, on the other hand, to 
 
 H 
 
I02 THE PASSION OF CHRIST. 
 
 hope for all in the future, because of their having 
 left all for Christ's sake. And it is these same 
 ' disciples,' in the last place, who are solemnly warned, 
 by means of the parable of the Labourers in the Vine- 
 yard, that God does not ultimately decide in these 
 matters according to the principles or expectations 
 of men. ' The first shall be last, and the last first.' 
 So the parable is headed. So it is also wound up. 
 Nothing is there which it is more important for the 
 ' disciples ' of Christ to remember. Nothing is there, 
 at the same time, which they are more apt to forget. 
 
 At last the Jordan is left behind, and Jesus is 'going 
 up ' to Jerusalem. How special still His instructions ! 
 ' He takes the twelve disciples apart.' How express 
 also His announcement, not of the fact only, but of 
 the precise manner now, of His death. ' They shall 
 deliver Him unto the Gentiles to mock, and to scourge, 
 and to crucify.' Coming nearer still. He reveals more 
 still of that fast-gathering storm. 
 
 This principle is exemplified next in yet one other 
 way. The mother of the two sons of Zebedee comes 
 to Him with a special request, which is a mark at once 
 of her ignorance and her faith. ' Command that these 
 my two sons may sit, one on Thy right hand, and one 
 on Thy left hand, in Thy kingdom.' Both this unwise 
 request, and the indignation it arouses, Jesus turns at 
 once to good use. None are truly great in His 
 kingdom, unless they resemble Himself. None re- 
 semble Him less than those who are looked upon as 
 
A CHANGE OF VOICE. IO3 
 
 the great ones of the earth. Nis one desire is to 
 supply that ministry which it is t/ieir great desire to 
 receive. That very death of His, in fact, to which He 
 is travelhng, is the crowning proof of this truth. 
 Besides being all that He had told them before — 
 besides being the result of deadly hatred and treachery 
 — besides being the occasion of indescribable torture 
 and shame — it was also a long -designed and voluntary 
 surrender of life itself, on His part, for other men's 
 good. Herein lies the heart of the whole. To be 
 ' a ransom for many ! ' That is the feature in it, when 
 coming closest to it, which is found eclipsing the rest. 
 A gracious miracle winds up this part of the story. 
 As Jesus passes out of Jericho, and begins the ascent 
 which is to conduct Him to the city of His crucifixion, 
 two blind men who are sitting together by the way- 
 side find out who it is, and cry out. The multitudes 
 hear them, and bid them be silent. Jesus hears them, 
 and bids them approach. They do so, and prefer 
 their request. ' Moved with compassion,' He touches 
 their eyes. ' Straightway ' they are able to see, and 
 begin to follow His steps. It is a sight which seems 
 to have impressed the Evangelist much. It should do 
 the same with ourselves. The shadow of death is in 
 front of Jesus as He goes up to Jerusalem ; the light 
 of mercy behind ! 
 
 H 2 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 A CHANGE OF ATTITUDE. 
 Matt. xxi. xxii. 1-14. 
 
 Jerusalem itself is at last in sight. Jesus has 
 reached the Mount of Olives, on the eastern side of 
 the city. How does He prepare to go in ? 
 
 In a manner wholly different from anything recorded 
 of Him before. Two of the disciples are sent to fetch 
 an ass and her colt, of which He has told them, from 
 a neighbouring village. In case of any difficulty in 
 obtaining possession of these animals, those who go 
 for them are to inform the owners that they are 
 ' needed ' by ' the Lord.' To the authority implied in 
 that statement there will not be any demur. 
 
 According to the Evangelist, the peculiar significance 
 of this proceeding lies in its relation to a certain 
 prophecy spoken some few hundred years previously. 
 At the time of its utterance, the city of Jerusalem was 
 part of the great empire of Persia, and so under alien 
 rule. What this prophecy promised to ' the daughter 
 of Zion ' is the privilege of ' beholding ' a ' king ' of her 
 own ; a king, also, who shall ' come ' to her, as it were, 
 in a way of his own, viz., ' riding ' in ' meekness ' upon 
 just such animals as those for which Jesus had sent. 
 
A CHANGE OF ATTITUDE. I05 
 
 By sending for them now, therefore, and entering 
 Jerusalem upon them. He practically identifies Himself 
 with the prophecy in question. Also in spirit He does 
 the same, by ' requisitioning ' (as we have seen) the 
 assistance He needs, after the manner of kings. And 
 the same, again, by allowing the disciples to caparison 
 the ass and her colt in such manner as their circum- 
 stances allowed ; and by permitting the multitude at 
 large to strew the ground with garments and branches, 
 and bless Him aloud as the ' Son of David,' ' coming 
 in the name of the Lord.' 
 
 Altogether, this manner of entry shows plainly 
 enough what He means. It is a spectacle signifying 
 to the people of Jerusalem just so much, and no more. 
 He thereby asserts His rights, but not His majesty 
 yet. He appears before them as their native-born, 
 long-foretold King, but not at present in order to do 
 the work of a king — at any rate, not that part of the 
 work of a king which consists in punishing the wrong- 
 doers. It is rather, in fact, as a royal ' visitor,' than 
 as a commissioned 'judge,' that He comes : — like the 
 figure of Justice (shall we say?), with her sword 
 sheathed, but still retaining her scales. 
 
 Something of this appears to be recognised by the 
 multitudes present. Whilst they are thus proclaiming 
 Him King with loud praises to God, the whole city to 
 which they are approaching is agitated thereby, and 
 cries out to know who it is that approaches them 
 thus. The multitudes answer and say, ' This is Jesus, 
 
Io6 THE PASSION OF CHRIST. 
 
 the Prophet of Nazareth in Galilee.' Whether or not 
 they fully know it, both answers are right. Both, in 
 fact, are required. He is at once a King and a 
 Prophet ; at once lowly and high ; the Royal Son of 
 David, yet Jesus of Nazareth still ; supreme in dignity, 
 and in meekness as well. 
 
 The action of the Saviour when He finally reaches 
 the city carries on the same thoughts. The first thing 
 He does there is to ' enter the temple of God, and cast 
 out all them that sold and bought in the temple, and 
 overthrow the tables of the money-changers, and the 
 seats of them that sold doves,' saying unto them, as 
 He does so, ' It is written. My house shall be called a 
 house of prayer, but ye have made it a den of thieves.' 
 In other words, He exercises in the temple of God 
 what are known as ' visitatorial powers,' and treats it 
 just as any other legitimate king would treat any 
 house of his own. Further than this, however, at this 
 juncture. He does not proceed. On the contrary, 
 instead of now inflicting on such evil-doers the punish- 
 ment they deserve, we find Him engaged in the 
 merciful work of ' healing ' the ' blind and the lame,' 
 whose misery has taught them to find Him out and 
 come to Him there. 
 
 Even when the chief priests and scribes, the persons 
 most responsible for the evil denounced by Him, seeing 
 the wonderful things which He does, and hearing the 
 very children in consequence repeating some of the 
 salutations with which He had been greeted on His 
 
A CHANGE OF ATTITUDE. I07 
 
 way to the city, are indignant with Him for not at 
 once suppressing such significant greetings, He still 
 pursues the same line. After defending the children, 
 and rebuking His foes, He contents Himself with 
 departing from them, and seeking quiet elsewhere. 
 
 On His return the next morning, an incident happens 
 which serves to shew how much He could have done 
 at that time in the way of punishment, had such been 
 His design. A little way off the road that led to 
 Jerusalem from Bethany (the place to which He had 
 retired on the previous evening). He beholds a fig-tree 
 giving every promise of abundance of fruit. On coming 
 up, however, He finds sufficient evidence that this 
 mere promise is all. There is ' nothing ' on it but 
 ' leaves.' Immediately, as in a kind of acted parable, 
 the tree is sentenced to destruction. Immediately, 
 also, the sentence is carried into effect. The tree 
 ' withers away.' Then the astonished disciples are 
 assured that, with sufficient faith, they could do greater 
 things still ; even to the extent of removing the solid 
 mountain itself on which they were standing, if such a 
 thing were required, and casting it into the sea. How 
 easily therefore, as well as how justly, could the ' barren 
 fig-tree ' of Jerusalem be destroyed by their Master ! 
 There is everything in the condition of that city to 
 provoke such a doom. There is nothing to prevent it, 
 except the limits which He has placed on Himself. 
 
 These same limits will not now be overstepped by 
 Him, happen what may ; not even the most violent 
 
Io8 THE PASSION OF CHRIST. 
 
 collision with the ringleaders of evil. Now that He 
 has come again into the temple of God, He sees the 
 chief priests and elders of the people approaching Him 
 in a body. The question which they submit is one 
 which implies the fullest perception, and yet the 
 flattest denial, of the royal rights He has claimed. 
 ' By what authority doest Thou these things ? and 
 who gave Thee this authority.''' The moderation of 
 His answer is as observable as its wisdom. By a 
 simple reference to the mission of John the Bapti-st, 
 who had so plainly testified to Himself, He at once jus- 
 tifies His own language and silences theirs. But there 
 He stops short. He effectually defends His authority. 
 He does not attempt to avenge it. Neither does He 
 do so really, in that striking succession of parables by 
 which He supplements His reply. In the parable of 
 the Two Sons in the Vineyard, for example, there is 
 much faithful rebuke. These men, like the barren 
 fig-tree inspected just before, promised much without 
 yielding anything. They are, therefore, shewn those 
 despised ' publicans and harlots,' who at first refused 
 to obey, but afterwards ' repented and went,' going 
 into the kingdom of God ' before ' them. In the 
 parable of the Householder and his Vineyard, again, 
 with its incisive application from the Old Testament 
 Scriptures, besides similar faithful rebuke, there is 
 solemn warning of judgment to come. And in the 
 subsequent parable of the Marriage Feast which the 
 King made for his Son, similar rebuke and similar 
 
A CHANGE OF ATTITUDE. IO9 
 
 warning are both intensified by its peculiarly solemn 
 and individualising conclusion. It is not only of a 
 body of men, but of one man by himself, that this 
 parable speaks in the end. ' Bind ///;// hand and foot ; 
 and cast /it'w into " that " outer darkness,' where, 
 though there is nothing seen, there is so much heard, 
 telling of unavailing remorse. In all this, however, 
 all the evil spoken of is either future or past. Out- 
 side the parables themselves, the men addressed by 
 them are touched in conscience alone. ' They per- 
 ceive ' that the speaker, in these parables, has spoken 
 of them. But they are so far from being made to 
 siijfer by Him, that they are planning instead how to 
 cause Him .to suffer by them. The right is His. He 
 leaves the power with them. He is no less distinct 
 in claiming the one, than in not exerting the other, 
 as yet. 
 
 Was ever any one more faithful in speech and more 
 gentle in deed ? Could there be at once a truer, and 
 yet a lowlier. King? 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 A WIDE CONSPIRACY. 
 Matt. xxii. 15-46. 
 
 The direct attacks of the Jewish rulers on the 
 position and authority now claimed by Jesus of 
 Nazareth having only succeeded in shaking their own, 
 they next betake themselves to indirect modes of 
 assault. 
 
 The Pharisees are the first to try their hands in 
 this line. How ready this Man is in instructing, how 
 prompt in replying, how faithful in rebuking, they have 
 seen for themselves. They will turn these qualities to 
 His ruin. They will ' entangle Him in His talk.' 
 
 It is in connection with the claims so much resented 
 by them that they make this attempt. There were 
 two opposite powers at that time in existence, both 
 feared by them much ; the power of C?esar, and that 
 of the multitude. They will endeavour to embroil 
 this ' King of the Jews ' with one of these two. 
 
 On every ground the plan adopted by them appears 
 sure of success. In the first place, they mean to test 
 Him by a question which is of an exceedingly difficult 
 kind. ' Tell us, what thinkest Thou ? Is it lawful to 
 give tribute unto Cjesar, or not?' In the next place, 
 
A WIDE CONSPIRACY. Ill 
 
 those are to put this question to Him, some of whom 
 will be ready at once to turn His answer to evil, on 
 whichever side it may be. If the ' disciples of the 
 Pharisees ' among them do not denounce Him in 
 consequence, the ' Herodians ' will. If the Herodians 
 do not, the Pharisees will. In the last place, the 
 question itself is to be so introduced as to divert His 
 mind from any suspicion of evil, and so, from any 
 endeavour to protect Himself in any way from their 
 wiles. ' Master, we know that Thou art true, and 
 teachest the way of God in truth, and carest not for 
 any one : for Thou regardest not the person of men.' 
 How is He to escape from so subtle a snare ? 
 
 As a matter of fact. He does so by the simplest 
 possible means. First, the fiattery is rebuked. ' Why 
 tempt ye Me, ye hypocrites ? ' Then the fallacy is 
 exposed. ' Shew Me the tribute money.' They hand 
 Him in reply a Roman denarius or ' penny,' having 
 on it the usual ' image and superscription of Csesar.' 
 What does their acceptance and use of this coin 
 amount to in effect ? What but a confession that 
 God has allowed them, for the time, to be under 
 Caesar's yoke ^ In that twofold fact lies the twofold 
 answer to the question they ask. Render to Caesar 
 those things which God has given to him for the time. 
 Render to God those other things which He has 
 reserved to Himself. 
 
 The messengers hear, and marvel, and go away, dis- 
 comfited men. 
 
ir2 THE PASSION OF CHRIST. 
 
 After the Pharisees and Herodians have been dis- 
 posed of, the Sadducees appear on the scene. These 
 disbelievers in the possibiHty of a rising again from 
 tlie dead come to Him ' the same day ' with a ques- 
 tion founded on tlie current behef in that doctrine. 
 In the case of a man dying without issue, the Law 
 of Moses enjoined on his surviving brother to take 
 his widow to wife. In this way it had once come 
 to pass — according to them — that no fewer than seven 
 brothers in one family had all had the same woman 
 to wife. Supposing them all to rise again from the 
 dead, whose wife, of all the seven, ought this woman 
 to be ? What has Jesus to say, as a teacher of 
 truth — what has He to say, as a ruler and judge — 
 in regard to this point ? 
 
 It is a skilful question — they suppose an unanswer- 
 able one — with the object in view. 
 
 Yet how easy, again, when once given, is His 
 solution thereof! 
 
 'In the resurrection they neither marry, nor are 
 given in marriage, but are as the angels of God in 
 heaven,' 
 
 With that simple yet profound announcement, the 
 whole substratum of the difficulty, and, therefore, of 
 course the whole superstructure as well, are taken 
 away. 
 
 Add to which, it is easy to shew that this very 
 doctrine of the resurrection from the dead was taught 
 them in reality by one of the names which it had 
 
A WIDE CONSPIRACY. II3 
 
 pleased God to give to Himself in the most ancient 
 portion of their canonical books. ' Tlie God of 
 Abraham ' never meant the God of one who had 
 ceased to exist. 
 
 The multitude are ' astonished,' the Sadducees 
 ' silenced,' by these sudden flashes of truth. 
 
 Once more the Pharisees, but this time without the 
 Herodians, endeavour to bring about His disgrace. 
 They appear to be stimulated to this fresh effort by 
 hearing that their rivals have failed. How sweet the 
 thought of at once confounding Him and distancing 
 them ! Anyway, they now approach Him from a 
 different side. One of their number, a known expert 
 in the study of the National Law, stands forward as 
 a kind of champion to ' tempt ' Him by its means. 
 Of all the commandments proclaimed in the Book of 
 the Law, which did He look upon as the greatest } 
 which should first be obeyed ? It was a difficult 
 question, no doubt ; a perilous labyrinth, out of which 
 it was by no means easy for any reputation to escape, 
 as it were, with its life. Yet, even here, such a 
 ' Master ' as this cleanser of the temple ought to be 
 able to see His way through. 
 
 How fully He does so is soon and easily shewn. 
 The most important of all the commandments is that 
 which lies at the basis of all. The first thing required 
 of all creatures is to love their Creator. They cannot 
 do this too much. The better they observe this first 
 and great commandment, the better also they will 
 
114 ^^^ PASSION OF CHRIST. 
 
 observe that which comes next. The more they love 
 God, the more truly they will love their neighbours as 
 well. Moreover, if they do these two things, they do 
 all. Beyond these ' two commandments ' nothing is 
 insisted on in the way of duty, either by the inspira- 
 tion of Moses himself, or by all that has followed him 
 since. 
 
 A sudden revolution is the immediate consequence 
 of this final repulse. Hitherto, various conspirators 
 have put questions to Christ. Now the case is re- 
 versed ; He puts a question to them. Before the 
 discomfited Pharisees have dispersed, while they still 
 remain 'gathered together,' He follows up their defeat. 
 Practically and secretly, if not in so many words, they 
 have been disputing His claim to be Christ. How far, 
 as a matter of fact, do they understand that question 
 themselves ? What do they really know about Christ } 
 ' We know that He is to be the Son of David,' they 
 might probably say. How then do they understand 
 that which David says about Him in spirit ? 
 
 'The Lord said unto my Lord, 
 Sit Thou on my right hand, 
 Till I put Thine enemies underneath Thy feet.' 
 
 Here we have David, in so many words, speaking of 
 Christ as his ' Lord.' How can He be, at the same 
 time, his descendant or ' Son ? ' 
 
 This deeply significant inquiry completely baffles 
 them all. 'No man is able to answer Him a word.' 
 It does very much more. Taken in conjunction with 
 
A WIDE CONSPIRACY. II5 
 
 their previous disasters, it puts a complete end to. all 
 word-attacks on His position and claims. ' From that 
 day forth no man dares ask Him any more questions.' 
 In this kind of battle He has gained the victory along 
 the whole line. Not only now has He asserted His 
 kingship ; He has proved it as well. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A FINAL WARNING. 
 Matt, xxiii. ' 
 
 In the temporary silence which follows that over- 
 throw of His enemies which w^e described in our last, 
 how does Jesus behave Himself towards them ? In 
 what language does He speak concerning them to 
 those that stand by ? 
 
 In such language as to put especial honour both on 
 their office and work. ' The Scribes and Pharisees sit 
 in Moses' seat.' Their duty is to explain and enforce 
 that which Moses has taught. To obey them, there- 
 fore, when they do this faithfully, is to obey Moses 
 himself. It is also. He implies, and that with much 
 emphasis, to do wiiat is pleasing to Him. ' Whatsoever 
 they bid you ' in this manner, that ' do and observe ' 
 (R.V.). 
 
 These are striking words in themselves. Long be- 
 fore now He had made the announcement, ' I am not 
 come to destroy the Law, but to fulfil it.' Here He 
 upholds the authority of those undertaking to explain it. 
 Some time before He had Himself shewn respect to this 
 kind of authority, when directing Peter to pay for both 
 of them the Temple-tribute at Capernaum. Now, on 
 
.A FINAL WARNING. II7 
 
 all who listen to Him He lays the injunction that 
 they should shew the same deference too. 
 
 Still more striking, when regarded in its circum- 
 stances, will this language be found. What a juncture 
 is that chosen by Him for this declaration of His will ! 
 Just after the men referred to have been conspiring in 
 the most unscrupulous manner against His authority, 
 He is thus scrupulous about theirs. Just when they 
 have most disgraced their office, He honours it most. 
 In the time of their hope He had withstood them. In 
 this time of their despondency He upholds them. 
 What generous forbearance, what considerate pity, 
 what meekness still, we have here ! 
 
 What sedulous faithfulness also ! It is important 
 for the ' multitudes,' and more so for His ' disciples,' 
 that they should honour every one to whom honour is 
 due. It is still more important for all, that they 
 should not be seduced thereby into the commission 
 of sin. Hence the cautions which follow. Honour 
 the injunctions of these teachers, but not their ex- 
 ample. Their practice is indifferent, even when their 
 precepts are right. On the one hand, ' they say, and 
 do not.' The more onerous and irksome the require- 
 ments of Moses, the greater their eagerness in laying 
 these requirements, not on themselves, but on others. 
 On the other hand, in all such outward obedience as 
 they themselves render to Moses, there is an unworthy 
 motive at work. To appear pious before men in their 
 dress and demeanour, and to receive honour from men 
 
 I 
 
Il8 THE PASSION OF CHRIST. 
 
 whenever appearing before them in public, are the 
 real aims they pursue. Whereas, with you, My ser- 
 vants, these are the very things which you must most 
 diligently avoid. Pride, in short, is their object ; but 
 humility must be yours. And most wisely so, too. 
 For no one shall ever be truly ' exalted,' but he that 
 ' humbles ' himself. 
 
 After the misled, the misleaders — after the too con- 
 fiding followers, the faithless guides — are admonished. 
 And that, of course, as with greater cause, so with 
 more manifest force. Wilful deceivers as such ' hypo- 
 crites ' are ; first of themselves, and then of others ; what 
 is to come to them except ' woe ? ' Most sternly in 
 appearance, therefore, yet most mercifully in reality, is 
 their ' refuge of lies ' assailed by this truth. Some 
 seven times over its ominous thunders are made to 
 sound in their ears. Even yet shall they know, if the 
 thing be possible, both their danger and sin ! 
 
 How much, for example, both of danger and sin, is 
 to be seen in the effect of their conduct on the very 
 gateway of life ! Instead of shewing the way in (as 
 they ought to have done) to the rest of the world, 
 they are closing it fast against all — against others, 
 against themselves ! 
 
 How much, again, there is, both of danger and sin, 
 even where they seem to succeed ! Wonderfully great, 
 in the way of proselyting, are the efforts they make. 
 Wonderfully insignificant are the results attained — 
 except in accomphshing ruin. 
 
A FINAL WARNING. II9 
 
 After all, however, with their teaching, is this a 
 thing of surprise ? How should these be able to guide 
 men into fulness of light, who only half see it them- 
 selves ? And how can such unhappy imperfection of 
 vision be more convincingly evidenced than by the 
 exaggerated views entertained by these teachers, of 
 the mere corners of truth ? To see the ornaments of 
 the Temple, but not the Temple on which their real 
 beauty depends ; to see the gifts on the altar, but not 
 the altar which makes them acceptable ; to see the 
 throne of God, but not to discern the sovereignty of 
 Him that sitteth thereon — is to see far more error 
 than truth. This more- than -half- blindness which 
 thinks it sees, is worse than total blindness itself. 
 
 The same thing is true of those petty and partial 
 observances Avhich pretend to be all. No rebellion is 
 more offensive than that false scrupulousness which 
 ' strains out the gnat and swallows the camel.' 
 
 Nor is any defilement worse than that false refor- 
 mation which, by dealing with the outside alone, 
 prevents the true cleansing of all. 
 
 Nor is any deformity worse than that mere beauty 
 of surface which conceals all foulness within. 
 
 Nor is any profaneness worse than that spurious re- 
 verence which does not honour the servants of God 
 until they are out of the way. This empty worship of 
 names is nothing else, in fact, than another form of 
 that same hatred of reality which, in old days, perse- 
 cuted the prophets themselves. 
 
 13 
 
I20 THE PASSION OF CHRIST. 
 
 Awful, therefore, is the shadow cast thereby on ' this 
 generation.' The true inheritor of the spirit of the 
 past, it is also the heir of its guilt. Of all overt sin 
 known, nothing is like this persecution of God's 
 representatives in proving enmity of heart against 
 Him. In regard to nothing, consequently, is He 
 wont to exact a stricter account. Never yet, also, 
 had any generation surpassed this one — as would only 
 too soon and too fully be proved — in such display of 
 this hate. Upon it, therefore, is to descend the 
 punishment, in all its fulness, that has been held back 
 for so long. This is the rule with the long-suffering 
 judgment of God. The generation which finally ' fills 
 the cup ' up has to exhaust it as well. 
 
 As this Meekest of Kings foresees these terrible 
 griefs and foretells them, a sorrow of almost equal 
 intensity seizes Himself. Often and often, in bygone 
 years, with tenderest love, — what a glimpse this gives 
 us into the mysterious depths both of His nature and 
 heart ! — would He have gathered together the ' chil- 
 dren ' of Jerusalem in safety and peace. Just as often, 
 with invincible aversion, had His offers of love been 
 rejected ! Never, now, will He make them again ! 
 When next He comes, that ' House ' of theirs will have 
 gone ; and another spirit, if not another race, shall have 
 risen up in their stead ! 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 A FINAL PREDICTION. 
 
 Matt. xxiv. XXV. 
 
 After Jesus had taken His solemn farewell of the 
 Temple, He appears to have once more made His way 
 towards the Mount of Olives and Bethany. Some 
 of the disciples look back on the buildings which they 
 are leaving behind, and admire their beauty and 
 strength. Then, ' coming up,' they ' point them out ' 
 to the attention of Christ. Only see what buildings 
 are here ! 
 
 Great as ye see them to be — so He replies in effect 
 — the time is coming when, as buildings, they shall 
 cease to exist. ' Verily, I say unto you, There shall 
 not be left here one stone upon another, that shall not 
 be thrown down.' 
 
 To this strange announcement, as it certainly 
 sounded to them, the disciples have nothing to say 
 — except among themselves — for a time. Not till 
 the Mount of Olives is reached, not till their Master 
 has taken His seat on it and they find themselves 
 with Him alone, do they venture to question Him 
 about it. Then they have much to inquire. They 
 would know the time, they would know the manner, 
 
i:ia THE PASSION OF CHRIST. 
 
 they would know the full purport, of the ominous 
 things of which He has just spoken to the Pharisees 
 and themselves. ' Tell us, when shall these things 
 be ? ' and what shall be the sign of Thy coming, and of 
 the end of the world ? 
 
 His answer opens, where their questions left off, 
 with the key and crux of the whole. On no point 
 will there be so much necessity for ' taking heed ' 
 of mistake, as in regard to the nature and time of 
 ' the end.' They must learn this, to begin. Many 
 observers will be so wholly mistaken, as to suppose 
 that to be the ' end,' which will prove, instead, to be 
 merely the ' beginning of sorrows.' Many professed 
 disciples, again, will be so offended and deceived and 
 alienated by outward persecutions, and by inward 
 treasons and heresies and corruptions, as to fail of 
 ' enduring to the end ; ' — and so will prove themselves 
 to be, in fact, no disciples at all. For all this, however, 
 the good news of the kingdom will gradually spread 
 over the face of the world until all the nations, in 
 all parts, shall have heard its ' witness ' themselves. 
 By that time this present ' age ' will be almost touching 
 its ' end.'' When every nation has had its opportunity, 
 the day of opportunity will be close upon setting. 
 The ' day ' that is to follow will be of a different 
 kind ! 
 
 Before that time, however, there is to come another 
 ' end ' — as it were, predictive of this. This earlier visita- 
 tion will be distinguished, first, by its comparative 
 
A FINAL PREDICTION. 1 33 
 
 narrowness. It is only to affect the race identified 
 with the land of ' Judaea.' By its singular rapidity, 
 next. Its special ' sign ' is to be the appearance in 
 Judasa of that ' abomination of desolation which was 
 spoken of by Daniel the prophet.' The moment that 
 ' sign ' is perceived, let all those who ' understand ' it 
 seek to escape for their lives. By its unexampled 
 severity, in tlie third place. That ' elect ' race itself 
 would never survive ' those days ' unless their duration 
 were ' shortened.' By its clear significance, in the 
 fourth place. Notwithstanding many false pretensions 
 and some real perplexities, it will be an unmistakeable 
 manifestation or ' presence ' .of Christ. Not in the 
 ' wilderness,' for example, where none would see it ; 
 nor yet in the ' secret chambers/ where none could 
 find it ; but, like the lightning itself, in heaven above, 
 where none can miss it — will t/iis ' parousia ' be. By 
 its unavoidable certainty, in the last place. Spiritually 
 speaking, the ' race ' referred to, at the time referred 
 to, will be but a body of death. Where else, therefore, 
 except 'gathered ' around it, can the birds of death be ? 
 When the ' tribulation of those days ' shall have 
 at last come to its close, the signs of that other and 
 later one, which has been spoken of before, shall 
 ' immediately ' begin to appear. They will be such 
 as shall harmonise exactly and strikingly with its 
 wider scope and ulterior date. Such perturbations and 
 changes shall take place, for example, amongst the 
 lights *of heaven, as cannot fail to change the look, 
 
124 "^^^ PASSION OF CHRIST. 
 
 and affect the well-being, of everything upon earth. 
 To these there will succeed, in turn, causing bitter 
 sorrow to ' all the tribes of the earth,' a greater thing 
 still, even ' t/ie sign ' (whatever its exact character) 
 ' of the Son of Man in heaven.' To this, naturally^ 
 nothing less than the actual ' presence ' of the ' Son of 
 Man Himself coming in the clouds of heaven with 
 power and great glory.' And to that (again naturally 
 in connection with such a manifestation), the solemn 
 sending forth of 'the '^ angels" of the Son of Man, 
 with a great sound of a trumpet,' for the purpose 
 of gathering together from all parts of the universe 
 all those that are His. 
 
 These are mighty changes, beyond any doubt. But 
 let none imagine them, on that account, to be matters 
 of doubt. On the contrary, they are as certain, at 
 their appointed period, as are the yearly seasons them- 
 selves. ' The fig-tree,' on this point, has ' her parable ' 
 for our learning. Her opening buds are so many 
 tokens that the warm breath of the coming summer 
 has been already felt by her life. Just so of the 
 secret forces by which the changes spoken of are to 
 be wrought. The ' signs ' spoken of are so many 
 evidences that these are already at work. In brief 
 time, therefore, we may reckon fully on seeing their 
 fruit. Before that season is concluded, in fact, which 
 begins with the ' buds,' we may reckon on seeing this 
 ' fruit.' In other words, before the ' generation ' is 
 over that begins with the ' signs,' the things signified 
 
A FINAL PREDICTION. 1 25 
 
 will have come. Not ' heaven ' above, not ' earth " 
 beneath, is so certain as this. Everything else is to 
 ' pass away,' except ' these sayings of Mine.' 
 
 On the other hand, the exact ' day and hour ' of 
 their fulfilment is uncertain to every mind except One. 
 This is why their fulfilment will come on those who 
 live for the present only, with the same unexpected 
 suddenness as the waters of the flood came on similar 
 careless ones in the days of Noah. This also is wh}' 
 the result of their fulfilment shall be equally final and 
 sharp. And why it is, finally, that I exhort all of 
 you to be always on the ' watch.' ' Blessed is that 
 servant,' who, because of this uncertainty and finality, 
 only watches the more. His Master, when He cometh, 
 shall make him ruler over all that He hath. But woe 
 to that servant who, for the same reasons, banishes 
 the thought from his heart. His Master's coming will 
 hand him over to hopeless sorrow and shame. 
 
 The state of things at that time is so important that 
 it deserves to be set forth under a different figure. 
 ' Then shall the kingdom of heaven be likened ' to a 
 company of virgins at a marriage feast awaiting the 
 bridegroom's approach. Although professing to be 
 waiting, they will all be asleep, when first that 
 approach is proclaimed ; moreover, fully half of their 
 number, even w^ien aroused, shall only be ready 
 too late ! In other words, not be ' ready ' at all ; 
 but for ever ' shut out.' To be watchful at all times 
 is the only security for being ready at that ! 
 
126 THE PASSION OF CHRIST. 
 
 Yet another parable may help to set forth this 
 capital point. It is as though a ruler, going away 
 from his own kingdom to ' another country ' for a 
 while, should ' call his own servants ' and solemnly 
 entrust them with such an amount of ' his goods ' 
 as they should be severally able to employ for him 
 profitably during his absence. Naturally, on coming 
 back, he reckons on finding them ready foT him, with 
 their accounts and results. Those who have dealt 
 faithfully with their trust, whether comparatively 
 little or great, will be openly commended and made 
 welcome to a corresponding share in his joy. Those 
 who have been unfaithful to their trust, on the other 
 hand, however small its amount, will not be allowed 
 to escape on that score. No ' unprofitable servant ' 
 must look at that time for anything less than total 
 loss, and ' outer darkness,' and ' the weeping and 
 gnashing of teeth.' If we would watch for Christ, 
 we must work for Him too. 
 
 Last of all, besides watching and working, there 
 must be patient waiting for Christ. The winding up 
 of all things will shew all things in a light of its own. 
 ' When the Son of Man shall come in His glory,' with 
 ' all the angels ' gathered around Him, and ' all the 
 nations assembled ' before Him, the history of these 
 nations will be found, in reality, to have been a history 
 of Himself All neglected duties will prove to have 
 been acts of hostility, all duties discharged will prove 
 to have been acts of homage, to this representative 
 
A FINAL PREDICTION. 1^7 
 
 Man. The last thing suspected by most du'nng the 
 progress of Time, this will be the first thing taught by 
 its close. Hence the utter astonishment, on both 
 sides, of those who find it acted on then. Hence the 
 sharp separation of those who are judged into two 
 opposite flocks, the ' sheep ' here on the right hand, 
 and the ' goats ' there on the left. Hence, also, the 
 intensity of the welcome vouchsafed to the one, and 
 the severity of the condemnation pronounced on the 
 other. And hence, finally, both the depth and dura- 
 tion of the difference in their fates. ' These shall go 
 away into eternal punishment : but the righteous into 
 life eternal.' ' 
 
 With this awful description of His future manifesta- 
 tion as Judge of Time and Arbiter of Eternity, this 
 comprehensive prophecy of Jesus of Nazareth is 
 brourfit to its close. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE EVE OF BETRAYAL. 
 Matt, xxvi, 1-30. 
 
 When ' Jesus had finished all these sayings ' 
 respecting the things of the future, He brings His 
 disciples suddenly back to the things of their time. 
 ' Ye know that after two days is the feast of the Pass- 
 over, and the Son of Man is betrayed to be crucified.' 
 In every way the contrast is extreme. Over there is 
 the sunny summit which is ultimately to be reached. 
 Down below is the raging torrent which has imme- 
 diately to be crossed. 
 
 A simultaneous, if not corresponding, contrast 
 may be traced in the story. The Evangelist tells us 
 less now of discourses than of significant deeds. 
 
 The first of these is something outside of Jesus, 
 and on the part of His foes. ' The chief priests and 
 rulers ' assemble together in order to compass His 
 death. They are moved to this by the nature of the 
 claims advanced by Him now ; and by the total 
 failure of all their endeavours to overcome Him in 
 words. They are hindered in it by the remarkable 
 favour with which He is listened to by the people. 
 Confessedly, it would be an exceedingly dangerous 
 
THE EVE OF BETRAYAL. 129 
 
 thing to lay hands on Him openly at that ' feast.' 
 While they resolve, therefore, on seeking His life, they 
 also resolve on taking care of their own. They are 
 equally unscrupulous and prudent in their proceedings. 
 They ' consult how they may take Jesus by subtilty,' 
 and ' put Him to death.' 
 
 We may consider this His first contact with the 
 shadow of death. Jesus is now a doomed man. 
 
 About this time, accordingly, we find Him treated as 
 such in a very remarkable way. He is sitting as a guest 
 in a house at Bethany belonging to ' Simon the leper.' 
 A certain woman comes to Him there, having with 
 her a precious alabaster vase, containing ointment of an 
 equally precious description. The whole of this oint- 
 ment, with lavish eagerness, she pours on His head. 
 The action is observed with much disapproval by some 
 who are there. ' How much better to have spent the 
 price of this ointment in supplying the wants of the 
 poor.' ' Not so at all,' replies the Master, reading 
 their thoughts. ' On the contrary, instead of a blame- 
 able, she hath done a very good work. This 
 exceptional time fully justifies this exceptional deed. 
 In anointing Me thus, she has anointed one who in 
 reality is as good as dead now. She has only done, 
 in fact, what is done universally in preparing the 
 bodies of men for the grave. Not even this gospel 
 itself, therefore, in future days, shall be more widely 
 known than this timely action of hers. 
 
 If this teaching of Jesus reached the understandings. 
 
130 THE PASSION OF CHRIST. 
 
 it did not touch the hearts, of all there. ' One of the 
 twelve ' (note this, to fathom rightly the deep enormity 
 of the crime), ' named Judas Iscariot ' (note this, not to 
 put the disgrace of it on any head but that one), goes 
 at once, or very soon after, to the chief priests, and 
 voluntarily offers to arrange with them for the betrayal 
 of his Master. This unlooked-for assistance is eagerly 
 welcomed. The wicked compact is speedily made. 
 Thirty miserable pieces of silver, the stipulated price 
 of the crime, are paid over by them. The opportunity 
 for committing it is watched for by him. 
 
 This is a second step in advance. The enemies of 
 Jesus have found the means of accomplishing their 
 purpose upon Him. He is more than ' doomed ' 
 now. 
 
 Apparently, also, this is now felt by Himself. His 
 disciples come and ask His instructions respecting their 
 Passover preparations. There is nothing beside this 
 in their thoughts. But in His reply there is much 
 beside, even the close proximity of His deatli. ' The 
 Master saith, My time is at hand ; I will keep the 
 Passover at thy house with My disciples.' 
 
 A still greater solemnity marks His language when 
 the eventide comes. The Passover has been duly 
 prepared. They are all assembled together. It is now 
 the midst of the feast. The Master's thoughts have 
 gone forward from that scene to another which He 
 knows to be close. Presently, He foretells it to them. 
 ' Verily I say unto you, that one of you shall betray 
 
THE EVE OF BETRAYAL. 131 
 
 Me.' Overwhelmed with sorrow, they say unto Him, 
 one by one, ' Lord, is it I ? ' His reply, for the pre- 
 sent, if not very direct, is explicit enough. ' He that 
 dippeth his hand with Me in the dish, the same shall 
 betray Me.' See, again, how awful the crime. See, 
 also, how equally awful is the consequent doom. The 
 bare thought of iL, even with His own cross so near to 
 Him, stirs the profoundest compassion of Christ. 
 ' Woe unto that man by whom the Son of Man is 
 betrayed ! It had been good for that man if he had 
 not been born ! ' If Judas will incur this doom, he 
 shall not incur it unwarned ! How still more awful, 
 therefore, the silent calmness with which this warning 
 is heard ! ' Then Judas, which betrayed Him, answered 
 and said. Master, is it I ? He said unto him, Thou 
 hast said.' 
 
 The sorrow of this night is a sorrow to be remem- 
 bered for ever. With this object, certain memorable 
 measures are now adopted by Christ. ' As they 
 are eating,' He takes a portion of the unleavened 
 bread which is on the table before Him. This He 
 blesses and breaks, and proceeds to distribute to all 
 who are there. Then, bidding them ' eat ' it. He says 
 to them, ' This is My body.' Afterwards, in a similar 
 manner, He blesses and sets apart a portion, of wine, 
 saying, ' Drink ye all of it ; for this is My blood of 
 the New Testament, which is shed for many for the 
 remission of sins.' 
 
 Much is meant by these actions and words. 
 
132 THE PASSION OF CHRIST. 
 
 On the one hand, they are a kind of rehearsal of the 
 Saviour's imminent death. Like this bread and wine, 
 so His body and blood are now to be broken and shed. 
 
 On the other, they are a gracious assurance of the 
 unlimited efficacy of that death, in doing away with 
 men's guilt. It is to avail for ' many ' — even as many 
 as will — ' unto the remission of sins.' Finally, they 
 teach, mystically, what is the appointed method of 
 making that efficacy our own. That bread of life, that 
 wine of agony, must be spiritually ' eaten ' and 
 ' drunk.' 
 
 A sudden light irradiates the darkness as the Saviour 
 thinks of these truths. They lead His thoughts for- 
 ward to another banquet, which is to have a triumphant 
 ' wine ' of its own. At that banquet all who partake 
 of the heavenly food just provided by Him are to sit 
 down. Not, however, until they shall all do so together, 
 will He for His part taste again of ' this fruit of the 
 vine.' 
 
 This solitary note of gladness and hope is followed 
 by one of praise. They sing a hymn. Then the 
 Saviour leaves that Passover chamber, and, accom- 
 panied by His disciples, goes forth to His fate. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE NIGHT OF BETRAYAL. 
 Matt. xxvi. 31-75. 
 
 When the disciples follow their Master from the 
 Passover chamber to the Mount of Olives, they share 
 His company, but hardly His thoughts. If they have 
 begun to know at all what is to be done to Him, they 
 know nothing yet of what is to be done by themselves. 
 It is on this point, therefore, that He now specially 
 cautions them in telling them, once more, of His death. 
 As had long been predicted, so it would very soon be. 
 ' All ye shall be offended because of Me this night : 
 for it is written, I will smite the shepherd, and the 
 sheep of the flock shall be scattered abroad.' 
 
 Yet, even so. He would not have them bereft of all 
 hope. Though separated now, they shall meet again 
 where they have met often before. ' After I am raised 
 up, I will go before you into Galilee.' In every way, 
 He sees farther than is seen by themselves. 
 
 One of them is greatly scandalised by what his 
 Master has said. He can believe it of others, but 
 not of himself. ' Though all men shall be offended 
 because of Thee, yet will I never be offended.' Jesus, 
 in reply, assures him that he will be so offended in 
 
 K 
 
134 THE PASSION OF CHRIST. 
 
 Him, that very night, as deliberately to renounce 
 Him. ' Verily, I say unto thee, that this night, before 
 the cock crow, thou shalt deny Me thrice.' Peter 
 believes this even less. ' Even if I must die with 
 Thee, yet will I not .deny Thee.' The other disciples^ 
 following their leader, declare the same thing. 
 
 Little do they know of the storm that is coming to 
 put their constancy to the test. 
 
 Their Master, therefore, who does know, does not 
 rely on them much. Of the eleven disciples who 
 accompany Him into the ' place called Gethsemane,' 
 only three are taken with Him into its depths. ' ' Sit 
 ye here,' He says to the rest, ' while I go yonder and 
 pray.' Neither is it very much, when He /ms taken 
 them, that He asks of those three : — little more, in fact, 
 than some token of sympathy in the extremity of His 
 grief. ' My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto 
 death : tarry ye here, and watch with Me.' Even as 
 much as this, moreover, though thus craved by Him, 
 He fails to obtain. Going forward only ' a little,' as 
 though to have His friends still within call, and falling 
 ' on His face ' to the ground, as though under the 
 excessive weight of His anguish. His heart pours out 
 this prayer : ' O My Father, if it be possible, let this 
 cup pass away from Me : nevertheless, not as I will, 
 but as Thou wilt.' Then, coming back. He finds His 
 disciples buried in sleep. It is doubtful whether they 
 are even aware of what He has said. Peter himself, 
 who had talked of dying with Him, has proved unable 
 
THE NIGHT OF BETRAYAL. 1 35 
 
 to ' watch ' with Him ' for one hour.' How chilling the 
 sight ! With all the willingness of their ' spirit,' with all 
 the unspeakable tenderness of their Master as shewn 
 by His recognising that willingness at that moment ; 
 such is the ' weakness ' of the ' flesh,' that they have 
 become wholly lost alike to His agony and their peril. 
 He is utterly alone, therefore, when, for the second 
 time, He departs and offers this prayer : ' O My 
 Father, if this cup may not pass away from Me, 
 except I drink it. Thy will be done.' Utterly alone, 
 also, when again returning. He finds them still heavy 
 in sleep. And utterly alone, finally, when, once more 
 leaving them. He pours out once more the same 
 prayer. No one hears it upon earth ! 
 
 Yet what a supplication it is ! What nameless 
 horror ; what determined purpose ; what depth of 
 submission ; what height of confidence ; what a world 
 of mystery, it bespeaks ! Why was such a request 
 not granted at once? How came it to be presented 
 at all ? What a stern Judge, yet what a true ' Father ! ' 
 What deep diversity of will, yet what deeper unity, we 
 see here ! Evidently secrets of the darkest nature lie 
 at the root of this prayer. 
 
 One thing, however, with all its mystery, is unmis- 
 takeably clear. It has not been offered in vain. If it 
 has not altogether removed that ' cup,' it has altered 
 its taste. The midnight of anticipation is now over, if 
 that of suffering has yet to be reached. Full and 
 close, therefore, as this latter is now, it meets with 
 
 K 2 
 
136 THE PASSION OF CHRIST. 
 
 nothing but steadiness in His gaze. ' Behold, the hour 
 is at hand, and the Son of Man is betrayed into the 
 hands of sinners. Rise, let us be going : behold, he is 
 at hand that doth betray Me.' 
 
 As the words are spoken they are being fulfilled. 
 ' Judas, one of the twelve ' — a never-to-be-forgotten 
 fact which helps both to aggravate, and, in a certain 
 sense, to account for his crime — is seen approaching the 
 spot. Behind him follows a great multitude armed with 
 swords and staves. It is evident from whom they have 
 come, viz., from the ' chief priests and elders of the 
 people.' But why does this Judas come forward and 
 salute his Master with such ostentatious and exuberant 
 warmth ? It is by this concerted signal that he directs 
 the actions of the ignorant band. ' Whomsoever I 
 shall kiss, that same is He ; lay hold on Him' How 
 true he is to his bargain ! How false to Christ ! 
 
 Jesus understands the signal as well as the multi- 
 tude. But, instead of opposing, He rather facilitates 
 their evil design. ' Do that,' He says to Judas, ' for 
 which thou art come.' (R.V.) 
 
 Forthwith, accordingly, the nefarious deed is ac- 
 complished : Jesus, at last, is in the hands of His 
 foes. 
 
 Are there none to deliver Him from them ? 
 
 Certainly, none upon earth. One of His disciples, 
 indeed, makes an attempt — but it is a most harmful 
 one — in that line. Neither, also, as things are, are 
 there any in heaven. Multitudes, it is true, are 
 
THE NIGHT OF BETRAYAL. I37 
 
 Standing there as though in battle array, who are 
 both able and willing to intervene to good purpose, 
 and who are waiting for nothing but the word of 
 command. ' Thinkest thou that I cannot now pray 
 to My Father, and He shall immediately give Me 
 more than twelve legions of angels ? ' But, to His 
 mind, there is an insuperable difficulty in the way of 
 His asking that boon. He cannot say such words 
 without unsaying others. He cannot speak these 
 words without blotting out those. ' How then shall 
 the Scriptures be fulfilled, that thus it must be ? ' 
 
 For all this, however, He feels the indignity with 
 which He is treated. If His captors had wished to 
 apprehend Him, why had they not done so as He sat 
 in the Temple ? Why come against Him as against a 
 robber and in that place of seclusion, with swords 
 and with staves ? Yet here again He submits because 
 He has submitted already to that higher force before- 
 named. ' All this is done that the Scriptures of the 
 prophets might be fulfilled.' 
 
 At this pointy the fears of His disciples are too 
 much for their faith. Supposing Him now to be for- 
 saken by Himself, they ' forsake ' Him as well. 
 
 More than ever, therefore, is He alone, when led 
 away as a prisoner to wdiere the Jewish Council are 
 being hastily summoned to meet. One disciple, 
 wishing to ' see the end,' has followed Him there a 
 'long way off,' and is now' hoping to escape notice 
 amongst the crowd of officials in the hall. But, 
 
138 THE PASSION OF CHRIST. 
 
 except for his countenance, thus afraid to be seen, 
 there is hardly a friendly face in the place. All the 
 Council are bent unanimously on putting Jesus to 
 death. With this object, they eagej-ly seek for wit- 
 nesses who can bear witness against Him. After 
 many failures, they find two who in some measure 
 agree. ' This fellow said, I am able to destroy the 
 temple of God, and build it in three days.' To this 
 testimony, which Jesus seems to have regarded as 
 amounting to nothing, He has nothing to say. The 
 High Priest, however, proceeds to treat it as of the 
 highest importance. Standing up, he expresses his 
 astonishment (though without saying why) that it 
 should be left without notice. ' Answerest Thou 
 nothing ? What is it which these witness against 
 Thee ? ' To this appeal also, which simply left the 
 previous testimony just where it was, Jesus again has 
 nothing to say. The situation is growing perplexing 
 to those who are seeking His death. If all their 
 evidence comes to nothing, what is to be done? 
 Perhaps they can obtain some admission from Him- 
 self, which can be turned to His ruin. Perhaps He 
 can be made to bear witness against Himself, as it 
 were. He is a lover of truth. They will appeal to 
 His truth. He professes much piety.. They will 
 appeal to that too. In God's name, they will require 
 Him to tell them what He really professes to be. ' I 
 adjure Thee by the living God, that Thou tell us 
 whether Thou be the Christ, the Son of God.' 
 
THE NIGHT OF BETRAYAL. 1 39 
 
 To this question, thus put, and put by one in such a 
 position of authority, Jesus at once and fully replies. 
 Yes, He was the Christ. They had uttered the truth. 
 And they should be made to know it too, in due 
 time. ' Nevertheless I say unto you, Hereafter shall 
 ye see the Son of Man sitting on the right hand of 
 power, and coming in the clouds of heaven.' 
 
 Wild commotion arises immediately on hearing 
 these words. The High Priest himself rends his 
 garments, as though at their blasphemous sound. 
 His ready assessors, without ' further witness,' agree 
 to the verdict he asks. They ' answer ' and say, ' He 
 is guilty of death.' Many of those present then offer 
 the grossest insults to the Saviour's person and claims. 
 They ' spit in His face.' They ' buffet ' Him. They 
 smite Him with the palms of their hands. They 
 defy Him even to name the hands by which He is 
 struck. ' Prophesy unto us. Thou Christ, who is he 
 that smote Thee ? ' 
 
 This to One who had just described Himself as the 
 future Judge of mankind ! What a depth of scorn ! 
 What a depth of forbearance! To all this storm of 
 insult and outrage, not even a word! 
 
 Meanwhile, what has that disciple been doing who 
 has followed Christ to that place ? He has been 
 trembling with fear lest his connection with Him 
 should be believed in by those present. First, one 
 accuses him of it ; then, another. He denies it to 
 both. He does so the second time with an oath. 
 
140 THE PASSION OF CHRIST. 
 
 Notwithstanding this, the accusation is repeated by 
 some of them that stand by. The ver}' dialect in 
 which he denies it helps to establish its truth. ' Surely 
 thou also art one of them ; for thy speech bewrayeth 
 thee.' Terrified at this, he plunges deeper into the 
 waters of sin. He begins to ' curse and to swear.' 
 So far from being intimate with Jesus of Nazareth, he 
 does not even possess His acquaintance. ' I do not 
 know the Man ! ' he cries out. As he says so, the 
 ' cock crows.' A sudden light, which is not that of 
 the morning, flashes immediately on his soul. He 
 sees where he was ; and where he is now ; what he 
 promised ; what he has done ! And he rushes out to 
 hide the weeping which he cannot restrain. 
 
 This disgraced disciple, this timid heart, this faint- 
 ing spirit, this broken reed, is the best earthly support 
 — if not, indeed, the only earthly support — of Jesus of 
 Nazareth on that infamous nig-ht ! 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 UNSULLIED INNOCENCE. 
 Matt, xxvii. 1-26. 
 
 By the time that the ' morning ' has fully ' come,' 
 it finds those who had sentenced Jesus of Nazareth to 
 death consulting- together as to the best means of 
 carrying out their design. They finally resolve on 
 handing Him over to the authority of Pontius Pilate, 
 the Roman governor, in whose hands, at that time, 
 the power of death seems to have lain. And they 
 proceed to take Jesus, .for this purpose, to the 
 governor's house. 
 
 The significance of this proceeding is not lost on 
 that unhappy disciple who has put Christ in their 
 power. What he had expected his treachery to lead 
 to, beyond some immediate pecuniary gain to himself, 
 we are not informed. It is highly probable that the 
 overpowering spirit of avarice had hitherto banished 
 such thoughts from his mind. But w^hat is now 
 signified by this public binding of Jesus of Nazareth, 
 and leading Him away as a captive to the Roman 
 governor's house, he sees only too well. As to his 
 Master, it means that they have condemned Him to 
 death. As to himself, it signifies that he has helped 
 forward that crime. 
 
142 THE PASSION OF CHRIST. 
 
 Filled, in consequence, with horror and shame, he 
 desires, if it may be, even now, to prevent the accom- 
 plishment of their plan. Cost what it may, he will do 
 this, if he possibly can. Cost what it may, both in 
 money and shame, he will do this, if he can. Take 
 back your bribe ; take back the whole of it — so he 
 says in effect. I acknowledge openly that I ought never 
 to have touched it, knowing all that I know. I have 
 sinned ! Yes, I have sinned outrageously ! ' I have 
 betrayed innocent blood ! ' 
 
 What a confession ! What a confession from so 
 close a companion ! From so suspicious a nature ! 
 From such a covetous heart ! At such a critical time ! 
 It is like the whitest of lights on a statue of alabaster 
 on the blackest of nights ! 
 
 Also, what a merciful warning ! If only these priests 
 will give it due heed ; if only they will listen to this 
 spontaneous evidence with as much anxiety as they 
 manifested a little while ago in seeking for false 
 witness ; they may even yet be held back. 
 
 As it is, however, they remain as determined as 
 though it had never been heard. Neither the misery 
 of Judas, nor yet the cause of it, has any effect upon 
 them. Be it so that he has indeed been guilty of 
 betraying — none the less are they prepared for 
 shedding — innocent blood. To their hardened souls, 
 such a reflection is of no moment at all. ' What is 
 that to us ? See thou to that.' 
 
 Even thus repulsed, the unhappy traitor cannot 
 
UNSULLIED INNOCENCE. 143 
 
 acquiesce in their deed. If t/icy will not take, he 
 cannot keep, the price of his guilt. Flinging it down, 
 therefore, he flies away from it, as from something 
 accursed. Afterwards, it comes to light that this is 
 not all. Unable to deliver that innocent life, he puts 
 an end to his own. See the profound effect which the 
 innocence of Jesus has produced on this wicked man's 
 heart. He cannot live — and see it condemned ! 
 
 Meanwhile, the men who had bribed him remain 
 undisturbed still. Carefully gathering together the 
 miserable pieces of silver which he had flung down, 
 their only anxiety now is how to invest them in the 
 most politic way. As the price of blood, it would be 
 too scandalous a proceeding to return them to the 
 treasury of the Temple. On the other hand, it would 
 be just as absurd, in their judgment, to turn them to 
 no profit at all. What is ultimately done is to employ 
 them in purchasing a piece of ground in the near 
 neighbourhood of the city, which had been formerly 
 used as a potter's field, but which was now probably 
 in an exhausted condition, and so to be had for the 
 exact sum of which they had to dispose. Not 
 impossibly, they knew of this through Judas himself. 
 One of the principal reasons, in fact, for his demanding 
 and accepting that exact sum as a bribe, may have 
 been his discovery that it would exactly enable him 
 to purchase that field. Anyhow, if the transaction 
 was begun by him, it is completed by them. Think- 
 ing the place a convenient one ' to bury strangers in ' 
 
144 "^^^E PASSION OF CHRIST. 
 
 — and looking upon it, there is little doubt, as quite 
 good enough too for such a purpose, — they purchase it 
 for that use. 
 
 The step turns out a momentous one in regard to 
 the future. That field becomes a notorious one in 
 the history of mankind. Bought with the money 
 which even dying Judas refused to keep because of its 
 being the price of innocent blood, it has ever suice been 
 identified with that fact. It is ' the field of blood to 
 this day.' 
 
 The step proves, also, to be not less momentous 
 with regard to the past. Either as a thing of vision, 
 or else of typical fact, certain language in one of the 
 prophets relates the purchase of an exactly similar 
 field at an exactly identical price ; and describes that 
 price also as being, in some way, the value set on a 
 life. ' They took the thirty pieces of silver, the price 
 of him that was valued, whom they of the children of 
 Israel did value ; and gave them for the potter's field, 
 as the Lord appointed me.' 
 
 It was a mysterious, and yet a plain, foreshadowing 
 of what has now taken place. This very field had 
 long been destined to testify to the innocency of 
 Jesus. Whatever else is doubtful, this truth is clear, 
 in this prophetical word. 
 
 The chief priests have now arrived at the governor's 
 house, and have placed their Prisoner before him. 
 Pilate looks on Him, and can hardly believe in the 
 seriousness of the charo-es he hears. ' Thou the King 
 
UNSULLIED INNOCENCE. 145 
 
 of the Jews ?■ Dost Thou really call Thyself by that 
 name ?' 
 
 As the governor, in asking this question, is only 
 endeavouring to do his duty, the answer given is 
 immediate and clear. ' It is as thou sayest. I do.' 
 
 A whirlwind of accusation from the Jewish rulers 
 follows these words. 
 
 Jesus gives it no heed. He is so silent, in fact, that 
 His examiner begins to question whether He is quite 
 in possession of His senses. ' Hearest Thou not how 
 many things they witness against Thee ?' 
 
 Still never a word. 
 
 The astonishment of the governor passes all bounds. 
 There is some awe in it too. This unaccountable 
 silence is . more eloquent than any number of words. 
 What is to be done ? 
 
 It was the custom at that feast for those in authority 
 to gratify the multitudes then collected together, by 
 giving liberty to some one prisoner, ' whomsoever they 
 w^ould.' Perhaps this custom can be so handled now 
 as to set this prisoner free. A notable prisoner, of the 
 name of Barabbas, is lying in prison. It is well known 
 that he is lying there for a most flagitious offence. 
 This ' Jesus,' on the contrary, has been delivered up 
 for envy alone. I will offer to the multitude to give 
 liberty to one of these two. Put to them thus, they 
 cannot hesitate long. They will allow ' Barabbas ' to 
 remain in prison. They will call for ' Jesus ' instead. 
 
 Whilst Pilate is considering how to carry this out — 
 
146 THE PASSION OF CHRIST. 
 
 or just, it may be, as he is in the act of mooting it first 
 — an unexpected voice comes to his ear. During the 
 previous night, or early that morning, his ' wife ' has 
 had a dream about Christ, The details of that dream 
 are not told us ; but its effect speaks for itself. She 
 has been so scared by it that she sends her husband 
 word of it, even whilst seated in court. She even 
 dares, in consequence, to entreat and admonish him as 
 to his conduct while there. ' Have thou nothing to 
 do, I beseech thee, with condemning that just man who 
 is at present before thee. Only this very day I have 
 been shewn the peril of doing so in a most terrible 
 dream.' 
 
 This is another singular, but striking testimony in 
 the same line as before. Even sleeping eyes are made 
 to see the innocency of Jesus. 
 
 It is another merciful message, also, in the same line 
 as before. Dreams and omens to Roman ears were as 
 signs from above. It is in their language, therefore, 
 at this crucial moment, that this Roman governor is 
 thus graciously warned. 
 
 There are voices, however, of a different sort w^hich 
 now prevail with him more. After receiving his wife's 
 message, he proceeds with the plan devised by him for 
 delivering Jesus. But the Jewish rulers seem to have 
 taken advantage of the delay. At any rate, when he 
 puts the proposed question, he fails of the answer he 
 sought. The people have been ' persuaded ' to ask the 
 wrong man. More than that, to his great disappoint- 
 
UNSULLIED INNOCENCE. 14J 
 
 ment, they ask the death of the right. Do they 
 understand their own words ? To make quite sure on 
 this point, he determines to put the question to them 
 in a more definite shape. ' WJiicJi of the two shall I 
 free ? ' They are just as definite in reply. ' They say 
 unto him, Barabbas.' Still doubting, he desires to put 
 to them strongly the other side of the question. ' What 
 shall I do, then, with Jesus which is called the Christ ? ' 
 They return answer again — they ' all ' of them do — 
 ' let Him go to the cross.' Much shocked at this, he 
 remonstrates vehemently against so grievous a wrong. 
 ' Wliy should this be ? Shew me cause for it ! What 
 "evil" justifies so extreme a demand?' To this re- 
 monstrance — having no reason to offer^they only 
 reply by their cries. ' Let Him be crucified ! Let 
 Him be crucified ! 2rai;/3co^?/T-a). Let Him die on the 
 cross.' In all that sea of faces, every tossing wave 
 seems to be foaming white with that cry ! 
 
 In the presence of such a ' tumult,' it seems to Pilate 
 that there is only one thing he can do. Calling for 
 water, he washes his hands in it, in the presence of all. 
 He explains, also, what he means by this, in the hear- 
 ing of all. ' I am innocent of the blood of this just 
 person. That must rest upon you.' 
 
 It is a final testimony, and a transcendent one, to 
 the innocency of Jesus. Like the disciple who betrayed 
 Him, so the judge who condemns Him, condemns 
 himself for so doing. ' I am consenting to that which 
 I hereby acknowledge to be an inexcusable wrong.' 
 
I4H THE PASSION OF CHRIST. 
 
 It is also a final and merciful warning to those 
 Jewish rulers who are bent on His death. They are 
 demanding tliat from which even a heathen tyrant 
 shrinks in horror and fear ! 
 
 Yet this message also — like those before it — 
 
 '■fc> 
 
 is 
 
 without effect on their hearts. Notwithstanding all 
 that Pilate has said and done, they move the people to 
 defy the uttermost consequences of the step they are 
 taking. ' Then answered all the people and said, His 
 blood be on us and on our children ! ' 
 
 Pilate himself, also, takes the same consequences, 
 after all, on himself. He gives the order for that 
 decisive double step which insures the consummation 
 of all. He sets the guilty man free. He puts the 
 innocent man in his place. ' Then released he Barabbas 
 unto them ; and when he had scourged Jesus, he de- 
 livered Him to be crucified.' 
 
 What a picture ! What a result ! The Holy Jesus 
 handed over to a murderer's doom ! ' 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 INSCRUTABLE DEPTHS. 
 Matt, xxvii. 27-56. 
 
 The action of Pilate has placed Jesus in the cruel 
 hands of those iron legionaries who have conquered the 
 world. True to their character, they take a brutal 
 delight in their horrible task. To their minds- the 
 whole process entrusted to them is a matter of sport ; 
 one, therefore, in which the ' whole cohort ' must be 
 invited to join. In this spirit the assembled soldiers 
 first deprive their unresisting Prisoner of His usual 
 outermost garment ; and then invest Him, by way of 
 mockery, with a scarlet one in its stead. In the same 
 spirit, they either weave together a crown of thorns, 
 or take one already woven, and hrust it on to His 
 head. After this they place in His hands a feeble 
 sceptre of reed ; and offer to Him, in contempt, the 
 outward homage of body and lip, ' bowing the knee 
 and saying to Him, Hail, King of the Jews ! ' What a 
 pleasure it is — what a safe pleasure — to insult that 
 silent Man thus ! What shouts of derision cause that 
 ' common hall ' to ring again with their sound ! Did 
 you ever see such a King? such a sceptre? such a 
 beggarly crown ? 
 
 L 
 
150 THE PASSION OF CHRIST. 
 
 Soon, however, these indirect outrages begin to. 
 weary upon them. All the sooner, perhaps, because in 
 this instance they so completely fail of their mark. It 
 is provoking to find that these insults have not pro- 
 voked Him even into a look of complaint. Grosser 
 insolence, therefore, and more direct outrages, are 
 resorted to next. Some of these tormentors of Jesus 
 even go so far as to spit in His face, as though to shew 
 their contempt for His person. Others among them, 
 by way of shewing the same unmeasured contempt for 
 His claims, plucking away the poor symbol of authority 
 which they had placed in His hands, turn it as it were 
 against its bearer, and smite Him therewith ' on the 
 head.' Even these things, however, in the case of this 
 Sufferer, begin, in turn, to grow stale. He can endure 
 more — in this Avay also — than they can inflict. At 
 last, therefore, they begin to think it time for the 
 direst outrage of all. So stripping off that garment of 
 scarlet which they had kept on Him till now, and 
 replacing it by His own, they lay on His shoulders 
 His own instrument of torture (as appears to have 
 been customary in all similar cases), and proceed to 
 lead Him away. 
 
 They do not lead Him, thus burdened, very far 
 before making a change. As they ' come out,' a 
 native of Cyrene, Simon by name, happens to come in 
 their way. Him, as they have power to do, they at 
 once ' impress,' in order to make him carry Christ's 
 cross. Is this due to a solitary touch of pity for Jesus 
 
INSCRUTABLE DEPTHS. 151 
 
 on the part of these men ? Or is it only an indication, 
 on their part, of impatience and haste ? In either case, 
 on the part of Jesus Himself, it is a most significant 
 change. It proves how deeply He has felt, though 
 He has never resented, all He has had to go through. 
 
 Arrived, in time, at the place of execution— known 
 as Golgotha, or the place of a skull — some one offers 
 Him a cup of wine mingled with gall. This is done, it 
 is thought, in order to give Him strength to endure 
 the pains of the cross ; or else, it may be, in order to 
 render Him less sensitive to them. In either case, 
 while He respects the offer, He does not avail Him- 
 self of it. He will not borrow strength, nor will He 
 accept assuagement, in bearing the sufferings o? that 
 hour. Nothing must take away from that cup of 
 sorrow which He has to drink to its dregs. This 
 other cup, therefore, is only tasted, and then put to 
 one side. 
 
 The terrible process of the crucifixion itself is left 
 undescribed in this story. Partly, perhaps, because 
 the bare fact is more than enough for our thoughts. 
 'They crucify Him.' What a portent is this! 
 Nothing happens to prevent the wreaking of this 
 unspeakable wrong ! Much is done, as we have seen, 
 to demonstrate the innocence, nothing is done to 
 protect the person, of this King of the Jews ! He 
 chooses, and God allows Him, to be made a crucified 
 Man ! Was there ever an event to stir us up to greater 
 searchings of heart ? 
 
 L 2 
 
152 THE PASSION OF CHRIST. 
 
 The surroundings of this central fact are such as to 
 give it greater emphasis still. Below and in front of 
 the crucified Jesus are tlie Roman soldiers, busily 
 engaged in dividing His garments by lot, thus fulfilling 
 exactly, however unconsciously, what the Psalmist 
 had said : ' They parted My garments among them, 
 and upon My vesture did they cast lots.' Above His 
 head we see affixed the customary ' accusation ; ' or 
 rather, perhaps, we ought to say, what is meant to be 
 such. For the inscription amounts, in fact, instead of 
 this, to a verbal acknowledgment of His claims. 
 ' This is Jesus the King of the Jews.' On either side 
 of Him are other crosses, with convicted felons upon 
 them. Can we not see at once, if we see at all, how 
 much it all means? An acknowledged King is num- 
 bered with malefactors! Perfect innocence is dying 
 as guilt ! 
 
 The spectators at the time, however, with their 
 blinded minds, understand nothing of this. In all this 
 mystery they see nothing calling for either compassion 
 or fear. The ordinary ' passers-by,' for example, of 
 whom of course there are multitudes at this festival 
 season, openly treat this crucified Jesus with almost 
 sportive contempt. Wagging their heads, they call 
 out to Him thus : ' Thou that destroyest the Temple, 
 and buildest it in three days, save Thyself : if Thou art 
 the Son of God, come down from the cross.' The 
 Jewish rulers, also, who ought to have been leaders in 
 good, are at least equally blind. They seem, in fact. 
 
INSCRUTABLE DEPTHS. 1 53 
 
 to be even more indecent in their exultation and hate. 
 ' He saved others, Himself He cannot save. If He be 
 the King of Israel, let Him come down now from the 
 cross, and we will believe Him. He trusted in God ; 
 let Him deliver Him now, if He will have Him : for 
 He said, I am the Son of God.' The wretched thieves, 
 also, w^ho are crucified with Him, cast the same in His 
 teeth. At this moment, in short, He hears nothing 
 whatever from human voices but bitter hatred and 
 scorn. A trial, probably, as great in its w^ay as cruci- 
 fixion itself. A trial, if so, which would exactly double 
 the severity of its pangs. 
 
 A source of even deeper distress is hinted at next. 
 A pall of darkness overshadows the land from the 
 sixth hour to the ninth. It is under that darkness 
 that Jesus battles with this additional grief. It seems 
 a perplexity to some extent to Himself. The cry 
 which it elicits is an undoubted astonishment to him 
 who is telling this story. Hence, both the time and 
 manner of its utterance, and the identical sounds also 
 of which it consisted, and the meaning also which they 
 conveyed to the ear, are all told us in turn. ' About 
 the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud voice, saying, 
 Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani? that is to say. My God, 
 My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me ? ' 
 
 Mysterious indeed are the words ! 
 
 ' Why hast Thou forsaken Me ? ' Me, the innocent 
 Jesus ? Me, with whom Thou hast declared Thyself 
 to be always well pleased } 
 
154 THE PASSION OF CHRIST. 
 
 ' Why,' also, ' hast Thou forsaken Me ? ' In what 
 sense, to what extent, on what account, is this true? 
 What is actually being done, on the one hand — what 
 is actually being endured, on the other — to call forth 
 such a complaint? To call it forth, above all, from those 
 long-suffering lips? These things are not explained 
 to us here. We are only bidden to ponder them in 
 wonder and grief. A more pathetic utterance — a more 
 astounding utterance — never came from man's heart. 
 
 Part of its pathos seems to penetrate to some who 
 are there. To the dull hearing of one bystander, at 
 any rate, that cry of distress is a cry for help to Elias 
 ■ — an evidence of delirium brought about by excess of 
 bodily pain. Accordingly, he seeks to allay this by 
 the best means in his power. Putting a sponge full of 
 vinegar on the end of a reed, he endeavours therewith 
 to apply it to the Sufferer's lips. The other bystanders 
 remonstrate with him, and bid him desist. Possibly, 
 they are at last beginning to suspect something of the 
 unusual character of the scene. ' Let be,' they say ; 
 let us wait the result ; let us see whether Elias wi/l 
 come to give this man help. 
 
 While the attention of all is thus concentrated on 
 the suffering Jesus, He cries out again. 
 
 This time His utterance, strangely enough, speaks 
 both of victory and of death. ' Jesus, when He has 
 cried again with a loud voice, dismisses His spirit.' 
 
 Immediately that cry is replied to in the neighbour- 
 ing Temple of God. The jealous privacy of long 
 
INSCRUTABLE DEPTHS. l^^ 
 
 generations is suddenly gone. The heavy 'vail,' which, 
 for ages past, had only just permitted the annual • 
 passage of the blood-besprinkled high priest to the 
 glory beyond it, is a means of separation no longer. 
 Like the body of Jesus, it is rent in twain from the 
 top to the bottom. 
 
 A similar reply is also given among the rocks of 
 the earth. Their solid strength is torn asunder by the 
 power of that voice. 
 
 A third reply is heard next among the homes of 
 the dead. ' The graves are opened, and many bodies 
 of the saints which are sleeping there arise, and come 
 (afterwards) into the Holy City, and appear unto 
 many.' 
 
 A final reply, and a most significant one, comes 
 from the hearts of the living. In the early part of 
 that day, numberless voices had scouted the idea of 
 that crucified man being God's Son. Later on, it 
 almost seemed as though He had begun to doubt it 
 Himself. Now it is proclaimed by the very voice 
 which had given the command for His death. Caesar 
 it was in reality, in the person of Pilate, who ordered 
 that crime. Caisar it is now, by Pilate's deputy, who 
 confesses this truth. ' When the centurion, and they 
 that are with him, watching Jesus, see the earthquake 
 and these things that are done, they fear greatly, 
 saying aloud. Truly this luas God's Son ! ' 
 
 Thus does imperial Rome do unconscious homage 
 to this dead ' King of the Jews ! ' 
 
156 THE PASSION OF CHRIST. 
 
 All this, however, instead of explaining, increases 
 the difficulty before us. If it be so marvellous a thing 
 to see such innocency delivered to death, it is almost 
 more so to see such omnipotence submitting thereto. 
 Is this saying too much ? What amazing majesty, 
 what kingly authority, what superhuman power, have 
 been nailed to that cross ! Possibly, some such 
 thoughts may be perplexing the minds of those faith- 
 ful ' women' who are described here as ' beholding ' all 
 ' afar off ; ' and who are also said to have ' followed 
 Jesus out of Galilee, ministering unto Him ; amongst 
 them being such as Mary Magdalene, and Mary the 
 mother of James and Joses, and the mother of Zebe- 
 dee's children.' Certainly, we who read the account, 
 though standing, in one sense, farther off still, cannot 
 escape from such thoughts. What commanding weak- 
 ness ! What awe-inspiring meekness ! What dying 
 energy we see here ! Who is this that, in submitting 
 to death, overcomes it as well? Who is this, that 
 restores life to others in the act of ' dismissing ' His 
 own ? 
 
 The Evangelist does not directly inform us how to 
 answer these questions. He simply bids us behold, in 
 this death of Jesus, the most astounding of facts ! 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 TOTAL ECLIPSE. 
 Matt, xxvii. 57-66. 
 
 The mystery attaching to the death of Jesus does 
 not interfere with its truth. Difficult to account for, 
 it is even more difficult — it is impossible — to deny. 
 
 The next transaction of which our history informs 
 us gives plain evidence of this fact. A certain man of 
 substance and standing, known as Joseph of Arima- 
 thaea, is in Jerusalem at this time. Although a sincere 
 disciple of the now crucified Jesus, he appears to be 
 in such a position as to have ready access to the 
 governor's presence. He goes to him accordingly, 
 and asks permission to take down the body of Christ. 
 Pilate consents, and gives the requisite orders for 
 having it delivered to his care. Plain proof, of course, 
 that, in the eyes of them both, it is now a body with- 
 out life. Neither would Joseph have asked it, nor 
 would Pilate have delivered it, unless fully assured on 
 this point. 
 
 The way in which Joseph deals with his trust gives 
 further evidence in this line. Under his supervision, a 
 fair linen cloth is wrapped round the length of the 
 body of Jesus with reverent care. With equal reverence 
 
158 THE PASSION OF CHRIST. 
 
 and care that body is then laid in a new sepulchre, 
 which the same Joseph had caused to be prepared for 
 himself in the solid rock of that spot. And a similar 
 or even greater degree of care is next exhibited in 
 closing that sepulchre up ; a ' stone ' of apparently un- 
 usual magnitude being used for that purpose. On 
 this point we may judge perhaps from one expression 
 employed. Notwithstanding the lateness of the hour 
 (for ' the even was come '), and the consequent need 
 of the most urgent despatch, if they would avoid in- 
 fringing on the sanctity of the rapidly approaching 
 commencement of the Sabbath day, that stone is 
 not carried, but ' rolled ' to its place. 
 
 These things, of course, prove not only the presence, 
 but the undoubted presence, of death. Just that which 
 is always done for the undeniably dead is done in this 
 case. Only it is done, it would seem, with unusual 
 carefulness, because of the unusual character of the 
 loss. Its significance, therefore, cannot be missed. 
 Those linen wrappings, so unfitted for motion, that 
 hallowed sepulchre, only fitted for rest, and the extra 
 precautions so anxiously taken for protecting that 
 which is deposited there, all proclaim the same truth. 
 Joseph has buried there the very idea of Christ's still 
 being alive. 
 
 Others, also, have been ' sitting by ' and doing much 
 the same thing. Two, at least, of those women who 
 had watched the crucifixion of Jesus afar off, have 
 now watched His interment as well. If they have 
 
TOTAL ECLIPSE. 1 59 
 
 not personally assisted, they have fully acquiesced, in 
 all that Joseph has done. To them also, the only 
 place for the body of Jesus now is the place of the 
 dead. 
 
 There is nothing less, in fact, than an accumulation 
 of evidence in regard to this point. It is a matter on 
 which even the enemies of Jesus are at one with His 
 friends. ' The Chief Priests and the Pharisees gather 
 together ' in order to speak to Pilate once more about 
 Christ. But their manner of doing so is widely different 
 from what it had been only some short time before. 
 To their apprehension all that is left of Jesus now 
 requiring to be attended to, is the mere memory of 
 His words. ' Sir, we remember that that deceiver 
 said, while He was yet alive, After three days I will 
 rise again,' And even this memory appears to 
 them to be deserving of attention only in connection 
 with other men's acts. Only if the ' disciples ' of Jesus 
 were to come and ' steal His body away,' and then 
 ' say to the people ' that He had risen from the dead, 
 need there be cause for alarm. In that case, no doubt, 
 the 'last error,' as they deemed it to be, might be 
 ' worse than the first.' But excepting so, they know of 
 nothing else to cause even a shadow of fear. Protect 
 us from this contingency — such is the meaning of 
 their language to the governor — and you protect us 
 from all. 
 
 Pilate's almost contemptuous reply — as though he 
 despised their fears in his heart — is all they wish for 
 
l6o THE PASSION OF CHRIST. 
 
 in other respects. ' Take the guard you desire. Go 
 to the sepulchre. Make everything safe.' They 
 go wiUingly ; and endeavour to do so in every con- 
 ceivable way. To the security afforded by the extra- 
 ordinary magnitude of the stone by which the mouth 
 of the sepulchre is closed up, they add that of a ' seal.' 
 To this second security they then add a third, securer 
 than both. A detachment of Roman soldiers, in all 
 probability the best class of sentinels ever seen among 
 men, is stationed there as a guard. A guard, be it 
 observed also, against a danger of the flimsiest 
 possible kind! Who are these that are suspected of 
 robbing that sepulchre of the body of Jesus ? Those 
 that deserted Him while alive. 
 
 Altogether, therefore, how undeniable here is the 
 absolute absence of life ! We have followed this ' Christ ' 
 till we have seen Him crucified, and laid in this tomb. 
 We have followed His cause, till His enemies believe 
 that they have buried that too. Their last fear 
 respecting it amounts to little more than a jest. And 
 against this, as we have seen, they have protected 
 themselves by an absurdly excessive defence. Jesus 
 is dead ; and His influence too. So those Roman 
 sentinels are proclaiming to the world, as they keep 
 guard by that tomb. 
 
PART V. 
 
 THE RE-APPEARANCE OF CHRIST. 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 
 A DOUBLE DAWN. 
 
 Matt, xxviii. i-io. 
 
 The Sabbath Day during which the Roman soldiers 
 had been appointed to guard the sepulchre of Jesus 
 comes to its close. The shadows of evening cover 
 the land. The hours of night have begun. 
 
 By and by the day-break is about to appear. The 
 slight general stir, like that of a person on the point 
 of awaking, which usually characterises that juncture, 
 is accompanied in this case by indications of move- 
 ment of a more definite kind. Certain distant figures — 
 figures undoubtedly in motion, whatever their nature 
 — are just discernible in the dark. Presently, as the 
 darkness is mitigated, and their movements continue, 
 these figures are seen to be approaching the guard. 
 Soon after, it is possible to distinguish them as the 
 figures of women ; even of the same women, in fact, 
 as some of those of whom we have twice before heard. 
 Yonder figure, for example, is certainly that of ' Mary 
 of Magdala.' And that figure, near her, is that of the 
 ' other Mary,' who was with her before. It is now 
 evident, also, that they are approaching for the purpose 
 of 'seeing the sepulchre' of Jesus. Their whole aspect 
 
164 THE RE-APPEARANCE OF CHRIST. 
 
 shews that that saddest of pleasures is the outside of 
 their hopes. 
 
 At this point the scene of the story suddenly shifts. 
 We are no longer with the soldiers at the sepulchre, 
 seeing the women approach. We are with the women 
 themselves, on the way to it, trying to see its true 
 place. They do see it at last, as they saw it before, 
 in the side of the rock. They see also, in its im- 
 mediate neighbourhood, the forms of the guard. So 
 much as this, in the waning darkness^so much too 
 much, to those sorrowing hearts! — it is possible to 
 make out. 
 
 But what is this which is under no necessity of being 
 'made out?' What is this which these women 'behold,' 
 as by a light of its own ? The solid earth is trembling 
 violently under their feet. A form is descending which 
 is seen at once to be that of an angel of God. He is 
 at the sepulchre. He has rolled back the stone. He 
 is seated upon it. See his countenance — it is like the 
 ' lightning.' See his ' raiment ' — ' as white as snow.' 
 See, also, the effects of his presence. Those Roman 
 soldiers, the terror of the nations, have become as 
 ' dead men.' And even the all-absorbing grief of the 
 women themselves is half-forgotten in fear. 
 
 Their fear is seen and noticed immediately by the 
 angel of God. He sees very much more. He sees 
 the purpose for which they have come. He under- 
 stands exactly the cause of their sorrow. Even the 
 difficulty which they will experience in receiving 
 
A DOUBLE DAWN. 1 65 
 
 the consolation which he is about to offer them, he 
 comprehends, and removes. ' Fear not ye,' as these 
 do, who are here for a different purpose. 'Ve seek 
 Jesus, I know, which was crucified.' Well, ' He is not 
 here,' now. ' He has risen again, as He said.' And lo I 
 here is demonstration that, at any rate. He is not here 
 now. Come and see where He lay. 
 
 These combined influences begin to tell on the 
 minds of the women. Astonishing as is the an- 
 nouncement just made to them, the utter falsehood 
 of it would be to them more astonishing still. With 
 such authority, and such recollections, and such positive 
 proof behind that announcement, how can it be false ? 
 Thus gradually are they waking up to a sense of its 
 truth. 
 
 That being so, they can now be entrusted — and the 
 trust itself will assist greatly in confirming their 
 faith — to tell the story in turn. Also, it being so 
 joyful a story, they cannot tell it too soon. Also, 
 being so wondrous a story, they are authorised to 
 promise, when they do tell it, further proof of its 
 truth. ' Go quickly, and tell His disciples that He 
 is risen from the dead. Tell them also that He is 
 going before you into Galilee, and that there ye shall 
 see Him. Tell them all this, for I have told it to you, 
 and ye may rely on my word.' 
 
 Thus exhorted, these faithful women are very soon 
 gone. Fear and joy unite together to quicken their 
 steps. Every moment that empty sepulchre is left 
 
 M 
 
1 66 THE RE-APPEARANCE OF CHRIST. 
 
 farther behind. What sights they have seen ! What 
 things they have heard ! What solemn tidings, what 
 joyful intelligence, they have to make known! Oh ! 
 for wings to reach those they desire ! Oh ! for breath 
 to tell all ! 
 
 Suddenly, instead of flying, they are standing 
 transfixed. Can it be? Yes, it must be! It is the 
 Master Himself! His own aspect! His own voice! 
 His own greeting once more ! And yet, withal, is He 
 qznte the same as when they saw Him before ? Is 
 there not a perceptible change in them, which is as it 
 were the reflection of the change which they see in 
 Himself? Why else do we now behold them 'wor- 
 shipping' Him on their faces? Why else do we see 
 them now ' embracing His feet ? ' With no less affec- 
 tion, there is a deeper awe, than ever before. 
 
 Probably the marked graciou^ness of the words 
 which He now speaks is in order to temper this awe. 
 
 To the women themselves — as He had said before 
 to His disciples both on the Mount of Transfiguration 
 and on the Sea of Galilee, on two occasions which 
 were analogous to this to a certain extent — even so 
 He says now — ' Be not afraid.' • 
 
 To those eleven ' disciples ' who had forsaken Him 
 on His trial, He is more considerate still. He at once 
 anticipates and dispels their fears by the message He 
 sends. If He fully remembers. He shews also that 
 He has fully forgiven the past. ' Go, tell My brethren, 
 that they go into Galilee,' where they have so often 
 
A DOUBLE DAWN. 1 67 
 
 seen Me before ; and that there ' they shall see Me 
 again.' 
 
 Was this meant to imply that He "would restore 
 them there to the Apostleship they had lost ? It was 
 certainly meant to signify that that future meeting 
 would be full of promise and hope. 
 
 Meantime, this renewed promise of it has already 
 done much. For those commissioned to carry this 
 message it has already done much. From the minds 
 of these first human witnesses of the Resurrection of 
 Christ it has banished the last shadow of doubt. By 
 this gracious word of His, they know for certain that 
 He has risen again. Yonder just-risen sun itself is not 
 plainer now to their eyes than is this truth of truths to 
 their minds ! 
 
 M 2 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 AN IMPOSSIBLE STORY. 
 Matt, xxviii. 11-15. 
 
 By the time that the guards at the sepulchre have 
 recovered their senses, the scene there is much 
 changed. The angel has vanished. The earthquake 
 is over. If the women can still be seen going away in 
 the distance, that appears to be all. Nothing but an 
 open and emptied sepulchre remains in sight on the 
 spot. What is to be done ? 
 
 What ought to be done is patent enough. The 
 singular significance of that silent testimony ought to 
 be carefully weighed. To all persons able to under- 
 stand the language of facts, it signifies much. To 
 those appointed for the express purpose of preventing 
 the kind of thing which has now come to pass, it 
 signifies more. It signifies that they have been face 
 to face with a greater power than their own. It 
 signifies, also, that they have been defeated by it 
 with almost contemptible ease. Without inflicting a 
 wound, or striking a blow, or even speaking a syllable, 
 their keen weapons and disciplined skill and proverbial 
 vigilance and unquestioned courage have been put 
 hopelessly to the worse. A completer victory was 
 
AN IMPOSSIBLE STORY. 1 69 
 
 never obtained even over the weakest of foes. The 
 defeat is at once of the uttermost, and of the most 
 irreversible, kind. 
 
 Men thus defeated — fighting men thus defeated, 
 especially— ought to lay the lesson to heart. Who 
 was this, the mere sight of whom had caused them 
 to become as dead men ? How was it also that such 
 a being went no farther than this ? And who, above 
 all, was that other One for whom he interfered thus ? 
 What a significant warning, what a merciful escape, as 
 well as what a signal defeat, they have had ! It 
 required an effort — surely a great effort — to put such 
 considerations aside. 
 
 Some of the soldiers are equal to it, if others are 
 not. The inertia of unbelief proves too much in their 
 case — as it does in so many others — even for the 
 impact of facts. As these men recover their senses, 
 they also recover their hardness of heart. The 
 departed danger is gradually forgotten in the thought 
 of that which remains. That the body of Jesus has 
 disappeared does not admit of a doubt. This will 
 soon be known to those who commissioned them to 
 keep watch at that spot. Would it not be wise to 
 anticipate the inquiries which will certainly follow.-* 
 Had they not better give their own account of that 
 which has happened ? and give it, also, at once ? 
 
 Those who have reasoned in this manner act in 
 accordance. They ' go into the city ; ' they find out 
 the chief priests ; they inform them of ' all.' 
 
170 THE RE-APPEARANCE OF CHRIST. 
 
 The first result is altogether to confound those who 
 first hear the report. By themselves, in fact, these 
 ' Chief Priests ' feel so unable to decide on the proper 
 measures to be adopted, that they hastily summon 
 the ' Elders ' also to confer with them on the subject. 
 A solemn and anxious council is held. Evidently, 
 they have heard of that of which they had never 
 previously dreamt ! 
 
 The next result is to silence these rulers in a most 
 extraordinary manner. Defeated soldiers generally 
 come in for abundance of blame, more especially on 
 the part of those who have been led to rely on their 
 help. Even if such persons do not reproach them 
 directly and in so many words, they do so tacitly by 
 expecting them to try and recover the day. Can you 
 not restore matters by another attempt ? It is to be 
 especially noted, therefore, that we hear of nothing 
 similar in this case of defeat. Though doubtless 
 disappointed almost to madness by the course of 
 events, not a whisper of blame is heard falling from 
 the lips of the priests. Neither, in all their perplexity, 
 does it seem to occur to them to suggest remedial 
 steps. Evidently, the story told them has not been 
 of a character to encourage such thoughts. The 
 strongest of men may be excused for succumbing to 
 a power above man's ! The bravest of men must not 
 be called upon to face it again ! 
 
 The final result is to drive these rulers to still more 
 singular speech. Although they dare not ask the 
 
AN IMPOSSIBLE STORY. 171 
 
 soldiers to act as though their report was untrue, they 
 deliberately determine, for their own part, to speak of 
 it as false. And, what is more, they ask the soldiers 
 also to speak of it as false. ' The tale which you 
 have now told us you must never repeat. You must 
 say, instead, that " His disciples came by night and 
 stole Him away while you slept." ' 
 
 It is a bold, course, not to say, a brazen one ; yet 
 desperate, too. 
 
 For it is asking men, first, to say that which they 
 know to be false ; and so to shciu that they cannot be 
 trusted to do the thing they are asked ! 
 
 It is asking them, also, to tell a falsehood which 
 reflects the grossest disgrace on themselves. What 
 business had they to be ' asleep ' at all when appointed 
 to ' watch ? ' 
 
 A falsehood, further, which will inevitably involve 
 them in the greatest personal risk. To a Roman 
 legionary 'c was certain death to be found asleep at 
 his post. 
 
 A falsehood, finally, of such a construction, as to 
 lack even the appearance of truth. Can sleeping 
 watchmen tell us of anything except their own 
 dreams ? 
 
 These considerations appear to be weighed deeply 
 on both sides of the case. On the one hand, they 
 account for the magnitude of the bribe demanded by 
 the soldiers. On the other, they account for the 
 strange willingness of the Jewish rulers to pay it. In 
 
17a THE RE-APPEARANCE OF CHRIST. 
 
 their extremity they even do more. They use lan- 
 guage which sounds Hke a pledge to bribe Pilate 
 himself, if need be. ' If this come to a hearing before 
 the governor, we will persuade him, and secure you.' 
 
 This last argument is a conclusive one to the minds 
 of the soldiers. Knowing what they do of the cupidity 
 of the governor, and seeing what they do of the terror 
 of the rulers, they at last believe themselves safe in 
 consenting to accept the offer before them. Nothing, 
 consequently, remains now but to carry the compact 
 out. They 'take' this 'large money"* as a sufficient 
 counterpoise even for such a monstrous request. Then, 
 money in hand, they go forth, and ' do as they are 
 taught.' 
 
 Others, next, hearing them, repeat the same tale. 
 
 Years afterwards, in fact — even as many years 
 after as the date of the composition of this Gospel 
 itself — those who thus denied the truth of Christ's 
 rising again, are still found ' reporting ' to others this 
 same impossible tale. 
 
 A convincing proof that they have found nothing 
 better to put in its place. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 AN ETERNAL WORK. 
 Matt, xxviii. 16-20. 
 
 Christ has risen again. Even the subterfuges of 
 those who hate Him declare this to be true. The 
 crucified Jesus is a Hving Man — a living Teacher — 
 once more. What is to ensue ? 
 
 The answer is given at that critical meeting in 
 distant Galilee of which we have thrice before heard. 
 Both previous to His death and since His rising 
 again, both by His own voice and by that of the 
 angel, He had appointed that part of the land of 
 Israel for a special interview with His own. It 
 now comes out, that He had also selected the 
 precise spot in that land where He would meet 
 them again. Either because it was more convenient 
 to them, or more sequestered in situation, or in some 
 other way better fitted for the meeting proposed, one 
 ' mountain ' among the mountains of Galilee had been 
 ' appointed ' for this end. A touch of definiteness as 
 to place, which serves to shew the marked definiteness 
 of the purpose in view. 
 
 Thither, accordingly, on the proper day, ' the eleven 
 disciples ' proceed. This definiteness of number seems 
 
174 "THE RE-APPEARANCE OF CHRIST. 
 
 to intimate that they are there by themselves ; or, if 
 others are with them, that they are only so as a kind of 
 appendage to them. Out of the original ' twelve ' the 
 one traitor has gone. The remaining eleven, now that 
 their Master has died and risen again, have come here, 
 by His own special appointment, to meet Him again. 
 Why is this, unless because He has something special 
 to communicate to them? It does not follow, of 
 necessity, that it is something exclusive as well. 
 
 We cannot be sure of the same definiteness in 
 regard to the appointed hour of assembling. The 
 Saviour may have told His disciples to come together 
 ado?(i such a time of the day, wishing them to be 
 ready for Him whenever He came. Or He may, 
 perhaps, have appointed them a definite hour; and 
 they may have anticipated it in their natural anxiety 
 to avoid being too late. Either way. He is not with 
 them when we see them at first. 
 
 By and by, however, so it is written, they 'see 
 Him ' approach. They all ' see Him,' but not all in 
 the same manner at first. Some among them, with 
 keener vision or stronger faith than the rest, recognise 
 Him at once, and immediately are on their faces 
 adoring His presence. Others among them, until He 
 is close, feel in some uncertainty still. They are too 
 perturbed as yet, or too anxious, to be without any 
 measure of doubt. It is a time of suspense, and of 
 much interest too. These early disciples are not mere 
 enthusiasts, led away by their hopes. Their personal 
 
AN ETERNAL WORK. 175 
 
 belief is not a contagion, caught from those they are 
 with. All the more, therefore, when they do believe, 
 may we believe in them too. ' Dubitatum est ab 
 illis, ne dubitaretur a nobis.' 
 
 By the time that the light of the Master's presence 
 is fully among them, the doubts of all have all gone. 
 What they now need, therefore, is to be- assured 
 fully, not of His identity, but His power. Vast is 
 the difference, in this respect, between the present time 
 and the past. He had been with them before, if not 
 exactly in weakness, yet in subjection and shame. As 
 He had said Himself, and as all His history then had 
 made plain. He had come, ' not to be ministered unto, 
 but to minister,' and even to be subject to others, so 
 far as to give His .life a ' ransom for many.' But that 
 condition of things is all over, now that that ' ransom ' 
 is over. He has not risen again to be a servant, but to 
 be a ruler and judge. This is the point which He now 
 wishes them to understand to the full. Everything 
 needed for this new description of function — everything 
 needed both above and below — has been placed now 
 in His hands. ' All authority hath been given unto 
 Me in heaven and on earth.' 
 
 Some of the authority thus put upon Him He puts 
 next upon them. As His first disciples. He commissions 
 them to make disciples of others. He commissions 
 them also to do this in all parts of the earth. ' Go ye 
 and make disciples of all nations.' What a glorious 
 task ! What an ample charter ! How extensive a 
 
176 THE RE-APPEARANCE OF CHRIST. 
 
 field ! This is calling them to be Apostles afresh ! 
 to be Apostles indeed ! 
 
 What shall they teach men to believe — what shall 
 they teach men to observe — what are they themselves 
 to look for — in going forth to this work ? 
 
 A form of sound words is given in answer to the first 
 of these questions, which is equally simple and deep. 
 On the one l^hand, it is such as to correspond per- 
 fectly (though not a little mysteriously also) with the 
 new position of Christ. On the other hand, it is such 
 as to comprise in it everything that He would have 
 men called upon to believe. His messengers are to 
 ' baptize ' men ' in the Name of the Father, and of the 
 Son, and of the Holy Ghost.' Only those are to be 
 acknowledged as His disciples who acknowledge the 
 doctrines involved in those words. That is the 
 epitome of their faith. 
 
 The second question is answered in a similar way. 
 Its language also accords admirably with the new 
 position of Christ. Its purport is also of a like definite 
 and comprehensive description. ' Teach men to observe 
 all things whatsoever I have commanded you.' The 
 accepted disciple is always to rule himself by the 
 precepts of Christ. That is the compendium of their 
 duty. 
 
 The last answer teaches these teachers what to 
 expect for themselves. Exceedingly arduous will that 
 effort prove to which they are called. Possibly, ex- 
 ceedingly protracted as well. Whilst engaged in it, 
 
AN ETERNAL WORK. 1 77 
 
 also, they must not expect to enjoy the visible 
 presence of Christ. Yet, for all this, His effectual 
 presence will be with them throughout. And the end 
 of this effort, also, shall be the end of all their efforts 
 and fears. ' Lo, I am with you always, even to the 
 consummation of the age.' That is the summary of 
 their hopes. 
 
 With this solemn ' charge ' to His chosen successors • 
 and friends, this pioneer Life of Jesus of Nazareth is 
 brought to its close. 
 
 Such a charge is at once a fitting close to His 
 labours, and a fitting prelude to theirs. 
 
 Such a close, also, by connecting His history with 
 the centuries since, carries us back to that opening 
 genealogy of Jesus in this Gospel, which connected 
 His history with the ages before. 
 
 In other words, the music terminates in the iden- 
 tical key in which it began. 
 
PART VL 
 
 THE SUMMING UP. 
 
THE SUMMING UP. 
 
 In this final section we desire to take a brief 
 review of the main results of our Inquiry. What 
 principal features have been traced by us in this 
 earliest Story of Christ? 
 
 Its remarkable UNITY, as a literary production, 
 would seem to come first. One central Figure, one 
 consistent ideal, has been before us throughout. One 
 great catastrophe, also, has been the master incident 
 to which all else has led up. 
 
 The singular PERFECTION of the ideal presented 
 to us appears to come next. Always consistent with 
 itself, that ideal has also been always consistent with 
 all that is lovely or great. Never feeble, yet never 
 harsh ; never haughty, yet never unworthy ; ne\'er 
 forced, yet never tame ; there has never been in it, 
 on either side, either excess or defect. There may 
 be a fuller — there has never been a finer— conception 
 of Christ. 
 
 Even in regard to this question of FULNESS, more- 
 over, how striking a story this is ! The bare headings 
 of the successive divisions, to which our anal}'sis of 
 the work has led us, are enough to settle this point. 
 Is there much of importance concerning Jesus of 
 
 N 
 
l82 THE SUMMING. UP. 
 
 Nazareth which these headings leave out ? Is it not 
 surprising, rather, in so contracted a space, to see how 
 much they embrace ? 
 
 Is it not equally surprising to see, in the next place, 
 with what remarkable roWER this is done? How vivid 
 and abiding are the impressions produced on us by 
 the scenes and incidents of this story ! How they 
 arrest our attention ; and compel our wonder ; and 
 dominate our emotions ! Not even the most cele- 
 brated of those masterpieces of human art which are 
 specially designed for these purposes succeed in doing 
 so more. Is there anywhere, in reality, a sublimer 
 tragedy — is there anywhere, in effect, a diviner epic — 
 than this first story of Christ? 
 
 All the more wonderful, therefore, is the UTTER 
 SIMPLICITY of its manner and style. We have not 
 found a suspicion of ' art ' in it, or a symptom of effort, 
 from the first page to the last. With all the essentials, 
 in fact, it has none of the pretensions of the highest 
 productions of ' art.' Consequently, it has treble the 
 worth. 
 
 Lastly, this story has been found to suggest to us 
 even more than it shews. From its summit, as it 
 were, we have made out the outlines of a succession 
 of summits beyond. In its ' perturbations ' we have 
 detected the influence of remoter worlds still. In one 
 sense the crucifixion of that innocent Jesus whom it 
 portrays was like the consummation of all. In an- 
 other sense, we felt it to be but the beginning of more. 
 
THE SUMMING UP. 183 
 
 Evert the subsequent utter reversal of that strange 
 calamity did not clear its mystery up. Rather, that 
 final triumph only augmented the wonder of that 
 antecedent disaster. Why did that Holy One who 
 afterwards raised Himself from the dead submit to 
 death on the cross? 
 
 Two questions present themselves, in view of these 
 features^ as the conclusion of all. 
 
 First, How are we to account for the existence 
 among us of this highly exceptional Work? 
 
 According to the Christian view, the solution is to 
 be found in the inspiration of the writer. He had a 
 Divine Original from which to copy. He had Divine 
 Help in so doing. Hence the perfection — the double 
 perfection — of the result. 
 
 Is a simpler or better solution anywhere to be 
 found ? 
 
 Is there any other, indeed, which is really worthy 
 of being placed by its side ? 
 
 Next, In what direction are wc to look for light 
 in regard to the mystery of this story? 
 
 According to the Christian view, we are to look 
 for it in another mystery yet. The reason why this 
 Holy One of God, with all His power, was pleased to 
 submit to all the horrors of the death of the cross, was 
 because God had been pleased to lay upon Him— and 
 He had been pleased to take on Himself — 'the iniquity 
 of us all.' In other words, because ' He bore our sins 
 in His own body ' on that mysterious ' tree.' In other 
 
 N 2 
 
184 ■ THE SUMMING UP. 
 
 words yet, because ' He died, the just for the unjust, 
 that He might bring us to God.' It is in these 
 ' remoter worlds ' that we find the causes of the 
 strange 'perturbation' of this. 
 
 Hasany one ever yet suggested an equally adequate 
 cause ? 
 
 Is there any other explanation, indeed, which can 
 even be said to grapple fairly with the real difficulties 
 of the question ? 
 
 Is there any other, also, which is equally worthy 
 of the Christ of this book ? 
 
 THE END. 
 
BS2420 .L677 
 
 The life of lives ; or, the story of 
 
 Princeton Theological Seminary-Speer Library 
 
 1 1012 00077 2881