\U&

NAZARETH

-•¦wL- ¦

LYMAN.ABB0T.1

YALE
DIVINITY SCHOOL
LIBRARY

Gift of
Professor Henry Hallam Tweedy

THE HOLY LAND.

A LIFE OF CHRIST

FOUNDED ON THE FOUR GOSPELS

AND ILLUSTRATED BY REFERENCE TO THE MANNERS, CUSTOMS
RELIGIOUS BELIEFS, AND POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS
OF HIS TIMES

By LYMAN ABBOTT

WITH DESIGNS BY DORE, DE LAROCHE, FENN, AND OTHERS

SECOND EDITION

' Come and See '

NEW YORK
HARPER & BROTHERS, FRANKLIN SQUARE
1882

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1882, by
Harper & Brothers,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.

Preface.

one can hope to write a complete biography of
Jesus of Nazareth, whose life is the pattern,
whose death is the sacrifice, and whose resur
rection is the hope for all humanity. No one
can aspire to do more than illustrate some
-phases of his incomparable life and character. It is prop
er, therefore, briefly to state the specific object of this Life
of Christ.
It seems to have been no part of the divine purpose to
give in the Gospels a connected Life of Jesus. The Bible
is a book of original materials, not of constructed systems.
The evangelists, therefore, have giyjen us, not biographies,
but biographical memorabilia. They have not undertaken
to trace the history of Christ from the cradle to the grave,
but to collect and preserve the various incidents and teach
ings in his ministry. Matthew and Mark accompany him
only through Galilee. Luke gives a glimpse of his life in
Perea. John alone recounts his experience and reception
in Judea. Only the history of the Passion Week is re
corded by them all.
Not one of them has followed a chronological order.
Not one affords us a single date. The years of Christ's
birth and his crucifixion are alike involved in uncertainty.
My first purpose, then, has been to gather up these sin-

iv PREFACE.
gle threads and weave them into a connected narrative ; to
learn, if possible, the course of his earthly life, the order of
his ministry, the gradual unfolding of his divine purposes,
and the secret causes whieh so operated on the public mind
as to lead the people to offer him a crown in Galilee and
award him the cross at Jerusalem. This task has been less
simple than it might seem. Among the so-called harmo
nists there is no harmony. In such a work the uncertain
guidance of surmise has been of necessity sometimes ac
cepted, where there were no clear indications in the origin
al accounts to determine the chronological order.
Neither have the evangelists illustrated the events they
recount by any detailed explanation of the manners and
customs of their age. For the most part they have as
sumed that their readers possess the knowledge so familiar
not only to them, but to their contemporaries. This life
of the past, which has faded from sight before the brighter
light of Christian civilization, I have endeavored, in these
pages, to restore by borrowing the pen of history to trans
port the reader into the atmosphere of the first century.
I have thus sought to. give to the life and teachings of
Christ that significance which is afforded by a knowledge
of his times and circumstances; to present the Life of
Christ in its appropriate setting.
Many systems of so-called Christianity have appeared in
the world, differing greatly from each other, and from that
which is to be deduced from the words and doings of Je
sus. It is well sometimes to go back to the Fountain-head
to trace this affluent stream of Christian civilization to its
Source, to study, in the life and teachings of Jesus, the
Christianity of Christ.
With the prosecution of this general purpose no consid
erations have been permitted to interfere.

PREFACE. y
Believing the Bible to be the inspired Word of God, it
has been enough for my purpose to assume that the Gos
pels are authentic narratives. The reader will therefore
find in these pages no discussion concerning the authority
of the Scriptures, or the authenticity of particular passages.
This belongs to the critic, not to the historian.
Believing that God is immanent in nature and in life, I
hold that Christian faith in the Christian miracles is the
truest rationalism. But it is the province of the philoso
pher, not of the historian, to discuss this question. To the
philosopher, therefore, I have remitted it, writing this rec
ord of Christ's life in the same faith in a present helpful
God in which the inspired records were written which con
stitute my authorities.
Believing Jesus to be the Incarnate Son of God, I have
not written to advocate that article of the Christian's faith.
This is not a theological treatise under guise of an historic
al monograph. It contains no discussions of even funda
mental doctrines. To the skepticism which still inquires
incredulously, "Can there any good thing come out of
Nazareth f there is no better answer than that of Philip,
" Come and see."
The language of imagination has been sometimes em
ployed, but only in the narration of well-authenticated facts.
The minutest reference to dress, manners, customs, and
scenery are founded upon a careful and conscientious study
of reliable authorities. It would not probably add to the
real value of the book to encumber its pages with refer
ences to them, but the reader will find in an Appendix a
list of the more important Enghsh works consulted. J£ he
is desirous to examine any doubtful point, he has thus, at
least, a clew to his investigations. The foot-notes are con
fined mainly to Scripture references. These are not al-

vi PREFACE.
ways cited as authorities. They are often only referred to
as illustrations of the statements in the text.
In a few cases notes are added referring to critical in
vestigations, the results of which only are indicated in the
body of the work.
Finally, I have not interwoven in this narrative of Christ's
hfe any eulogy of his teachings or his character. It is but
a poor device, that of ancient art, which puts a halo round
His head that it may designate Him. Reverencing Jesus
as the only-begotten Son of God, accepting him as the
Lamb slain from the foundation of the world, in whom
alone is the remission of sins, and loving him with daily-
increasing love as my Savior and my Lord, I have sought
simply to tell the story of his life, believing that his char
acter is its own best evidence of his divinity, his life its
own highest eulogy. The pen which I took up with en
thusiasm I lay down with regret. Whatever reception the
Christian public may accord to this fruit of my studies, I
shall be ever grateful for the impulse which led me to
them, for in those studies themselves I have found my
highest and best reward.
Lyman Abbott.
New England Church, )
New York City, January 1, 1869.)

Preface to the Second Edition.

*T is ten years since this volume was published.
During that time I have been carrying on further
studies in the four Gospels, the results of which
have partially appeared elsewhere. I can not let
this new edition go out to the public without bear
ing new testimony to my profounder sense of the divine
character of Him on whose outward life I have tried to
throw a little light, and a stronger conviction of the in
spired character of those four incomparable sketches from
which alone all our knowledge of this great life is derived.
The foundation of Christianity is Christ himself: he is
more than any truth concerning him. For eighteen cen
turies his challenge, " Who convinceth me of sin ?" has
been lying before the world, and no one has taken it up.
Infidelity itself confesses the glory of this character. To
see in his life a divine nature worthy of loving reverence,
and a human example worthy of patient following; to re
vere the character and to follow the life — this is the refuge
from that drifting doubt which sometimes brings darkness
upon the heart's clearest vision.
Thankful for the testimony that this book has been ac
cepted by some hearts as an invitation to " come and see,"
I send it forth again in the hope that it may lead its read
ers to a more assiduous study of the four Gospels, and to

viii PREFACE.
a profounder appreciation of the inspiration of hope, the
patience of faith, and the fidelity of love, which the life
of Christ affords ; that so they may come to a faith which
will enable them to declare " Now we believe, not because
of thy saying : for we have heard him ourselves, and know
tliat this is indeed the Christ, the Saviour of the world."
L.A.

CHRONOLOGICAL NOTE.
In the dates which are placed at the head of these pages I have assumed
that Jesiis was bom A.D. 1. The year of his birth is, however, uncertain,
though modern scholars think it probable that he was really born four years
before this date. (See Andrews's Life of Our Lord, p. 1 ; Smith's New Tes
tament History, p. 194, 358.) I have thought it, however, better to adopt
the popular chronology than to confuse the reader by apparent incongruities
between the statements of Jesus's age as afforded by the text and by the Gos
pels and the chronological headings, which, if they followed later scholarship,
would require constant explanation. The reader will understand, therefore,
that A.D. in the page headings refers him back, not to the beginning of the
present era, but to the real date of Jesus's birth, whatever that may be, and
thus that these dates indicate his age rather than that of the Christian era.
I have usually, though not uniformly, followed the chronology of Andrews,
whose careful and painstaking studies in this department leave very little to
be added or altered.

Contents.

CHAPTER I.
THE HOLT LAND.
Physical Characteristics.— Varieties of Climate and Production.— Valley of
the Jordan. — The Hill Country.— The Plains  Page 19
CHAPTER II.
THE JEWISH COMMONWEALTH.
Its Origin and Growth.— Religious Sanctions.— Moral Precepts.— Equality
of the People. — Popular Suffrage. — Representative Assemblies. — Laws
and Penalties. — The Judiciary. — Union of the Tribes.— Popular Educa
tion. — The National Church. — Political Economy. — The Scriptures.— The
Theocracy a Republic  26
CHAPTER III.
DEGENERACY.
Establishment of the Monarchy. — Babylonish Captivity. — Anarchy. — Roman
Subjugation.— Decay of the Commonwealth  41
CHAPTER IV.
JEWISH CIVILIZATION IN THE FIRST CENTURY.
Taxation. — The Publicans. — Brigandage. — Towns and Cities. — Houses. —
Salutations. — Furniture. — Meals. —Dress. ^Intercommunication. — In
dustrial Pursuits. — Resume  48
CHAPTER V.
THE BIRTH AND EDUCATION OE JESUS.
Bethlehem. — Joseph and Mary. — Circumstances of Jesus's Birth. — Visit of
the Magi. — Herod. — Massacre of the Infants. — Nazareth. — Childhood of
Jesus. — Jewish Schools. — First Visit to the Temple  64
CHAPTER VI.
THE VOICE IN THE WILDERNESS.
The Prophetic Order. — John the Baptist. — His Preparation. — His Appear
ance and Character. — His Preaching. — Baptism of Jesus. — Contrast in
his Preaching. — Law and Gospel. — Testimonies to Jesus  81

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER VII.
THE TEMPTATION.
Mystery of the Subject.— The Wilderness.— Christ's Prophetic Vision.— The
Problem of his Life.— Fasting.— A difficult Question.— Reality and Per
sonahty of Satan.— The threefold Temptation depicted.— Victory.. Page 93
CHAPTER VIII.
THE MIRACLE AT THE MARRIAGE.
First Disciples.— Oriental Wedding.— The Marriage at Cana.— Probable
Character of the Family.— The Miracle.— Its Significance.— The Temper
ance Question. — Christ's social Character  103
CHAPTER IX.
THE REFINER'S FIRE.
The Temple.— Its History. — The Court of the Gentiles.— Corniption of the
Priesthood. — Degradation of the, Temple. — Christ's Indignation. — Expul
sion of the Traders. — Prophecy of the Resurrection. — Conversation with
Nicodemus. — The new Birth. — Principles of Christ's Gospel  114
CHAPTER X.
THE WOMAN AT THE WELL.
Sectarianism rebuked. — Samaria and the Samaritans. — The Jewish Well. —
The Samaritan Woman. — A religious Conversation. — Christ's Method. —
Leaves Samaria. — Effect of his Preaching there. — Returns to Cana... 126
CHAPTER XI.
THE GREAT TEACHER.
Healing of the nobleman's Son. — Imprisonment of John the Baptist. — The
Jewish Synagogue.- — Characteristics of Christ's Preaching. — His Stud
ies. — His moral Power. — His Rejection at Nazareth.. — Call of four Disci
ples  137
CHAPTER XII.
THE GREAT PHYSICIAN.
The Sea of Galilee. — Past Life and present Desolation. — Ancient Therapeu
tics. — Christ's Miracles of Healing. — Not natural Cures. — Their Charac
teristics. — Different Theories  151
CHAPTER XIII.
A MISSIONARY CIRCUIT.
Demoniacal Possession. — Kindred modern Phenomena. — The Demoniac at
Capernaum. — Cure of the Demoniac. — Cure of Peter's Mother-in-law. —
Healing of the Multitude. — Leprosy. — The Leper cleansed. — Cure of the
Paralytic. — Call of Matthew  164

CONTENTS. xj

CHAPTER XIV.
JEWISH RELIGION AND JEWISH INFIDELITY.
Origin of Pharisaism.— Oral Traditions.— The Talmud.— Its Characteristics.
—The Scribes.— Conflicting Schools.— Formalism of the Pharisees.— Sad-
duceeism.— The Essenes  page 182
CHAPTER XV.
THE SABBATH QUESTION.
The Mosaic Sabbath.— Its Character.— Falls into disuse.— Reinstated by the
Pharisees.— Formality of their Observance.— A Festival.— Pharisaic Max
ims. — Christ's Sabbath Observance. — A day of Freedom.— The Pool of
Bethsaida.— Healing of the impotent Man.— Christ's Teaching in Galilee
concerning the Sabbath.— Anger of the Pharisees. —The Battle begun 196
CHAPTER XVI.
THE MUSTARD SEED.
Nucleus of the Church.— Selection of the Apostles.— Their Characteristics.—
Peter and John.— Perplexity of the Disciples.— Their moral Life.— Or
ganization of the Church. — Ceremonies. — Early Creed. — Personal Alle
giance  ,  213
CHAPTER XVII.
THE INAUGURAL ADDRESS.
Ordination of the Twelve.— Mount of Beatitudes. — Unity of the Sermon.—
Object of the Sermon. — Jewish Expectations. — True Blessedness. — Ful
filling the Law.— Christ's Legislation. — Contrasted with that of Moses.—
Contrasted with Pharisaism. — Almsgiving, Prayer, and Fasting. — World-
liness and Worry. — Close of the Sermon  229
CHAPTER XVIII.
POPULAR FAVOR.
Cure of the Centurion's Servant. — Raising of Jairus's Daughter. — Restora
tion of the Widow's Son. — Stilling of the Tempest. — Cure of the Demoni
acs. — Popular Enthusiasm  247
CHAPTER XIX.
PRIESTLY ENMITY.
Degeneracy of the Age. — Christ's Religion joyful. — Liberty of the Gospel. —
The Friend of Sinners.— The Harlot and the Pharisee. — Christ's Claims.
—Envy of the Pharisees. — Effect of the Miracles. — The Unpardonable
Sin....  260
CHAPTER XX.
PARABLES AND PHILIPPICS.
Change in Christ's Teaching. — Denunciation of the Pharisees. — Signs of the
Times. — Ceremonialism. — Unwashen Hands. — True Purity. — Fears of

Xii CONTENTS.
Christ's Kinsfolk.— Warnings and Promises.— The Object of Parables.—
The Kingdom of God illustrated.— Parables by the Sea  Page 275
CHAPTER XXI.
THE PRISONER AT MACHSERUS.
The City of Machserus.— Herod's Harem.— Marriage of Herodias.— Her
Disappointment. — Her Intrigues and their Success. — Political Preaching
of the Baptist. — His Imprisonment. — His Embassage to Jesus. — His
Death  ,  290
CHAPTER XXII.
THE CRISIS.
The Apostolic Commission. — Retreat of Jesus and the Twelve. — The Plain
of Butaiha.— Feeding the Five Thousand.— Its Effect.— Walking on the
Wave. — Sermon at Capernaum. — Indignation of the People  302
CHAPTER XXIII.
EXILE.
Tyre and Sidon.— Their Prosperity and their Decay.— The Syro-Phoenician
Woman. — Seclusion. — Mount Hermon. — Instructions to the Disciples, —
Tribute Money. —Prophecies. —The Transfiguration  318
CHAPTER XXIV.
THE JUDEAN MINISTRY.
Feast of the Tabernacles. — Characteristics of the Judeans. — Appearance of
Jesus. — Temple Teachings. — Lay Preaching. — Attempted Arrest.— Christ
questioned. — "Neither do I condemn Thee." — Rest in Bethany. — Christ
mobbed. — The Good Samaritan. — The Publican and the Pharisee. — The
Good Shepherd. — The Feast of Dedication. — Christ driven from Jerusa
lem ...  333
CHAPTER XXV.
PARABLES IN PEREA.
The Trans-Jordanic Region. — Its Population. — The Prodigal Son. — Few
saved. —The Marriage Supper. —Dives and Lazarus. — The Unfaithful
Steward. — The Rich Fool. — Humility and Hospitality. — Almost a Chris
tian. — The Laborers in the Vineyard. —The Commission of the Seventy. — ¦
Marriage and Divorce.— Popularity of Jesus  352
CHAPTER XXVI.
BETHANY AND EPHRAIM.
Martha and Mary. — Their Affliction.— Death of Lazarus. — Christ's Delay.
— His Reception. — The Sisters' Reproaches. — The Tears of Jesus. — The
Resurrection of Lazarus. — The Lord's Prayer. — Importunity in Prayer. —
Jesus goes up to Jerusalem  368

CONTENTS. xiii
CHAPTER XXVII.
TRIUMPH.
The Passover. — Jericho. — Jewish Aristocracy. — Christ's rebuke of "Best
Society." — Conversion of Zaccheus. — Cure of the blind Men. — Parable of
the Pounds. — Ambition of Salome. — Jerusalem and its Suburbs. — Trium
phal Entry into Jerusalem. — Expulsion of the Traders. — The Greeks. —
Songs of the Children  ...Page 382
CHAPTER XXVIII.
CONFLICT.
Perplexity of the Sanhedrim. — Plans and Purposes of the Priesthood. — Po*-
litical Hopes of the Jews. — Degeneracy of Rome. — A moral Victory the
only Hope of Judaism. — Combination of Christ's Foes. — Denunciation of
the Pharisees. — Christ's Farewell to Jerusalem  397
CHAPTER XXIX.
TREACHERY.
Judas Iscariot. — Singularity of his Conduct. — A Judean. — His Ambition. —
His religious Prejudices. — His Soul-conflict. — His wounded Pride. —
Anointing of Jesus. — Judas's treacherous Purpose. — His Bargain  406
CHAPTER XXX.
THE LAST SUPPER.
Various Forms of its Observance. — Its Sacredness. — Original Conditions. —
The paschal Feast. — Feet-washing. — " Is it I?" — Institution of the Supper.
— Prophecies of Death. — Sadness of the Disciples  416
CHAPTER XXXI.
GETHSEMANE.
Jesus's Heart-struggles. — His Love of Life.-r-Clearness of his Prevision.—
His Love of Country. — Love of his Church. — His inexplicable Anguish. —
The Bitterness of Death. — The Bloody Sweat. — " Thy Will be dope." —
The Betrayal.— The Arrest.— Flight of the Disciples  426
CHAPTER XXXII.
THE COURT OF CAIAPHAS.
Degradation of the Priestly Office. — Character of Annas. — The Sanhedrim
assembled. — Preliminary Examination. — Peter's Sin and Repentance. —
An Oriental Law-court. — Criminal Code of Judaism. — Disregard of the
C0de. — Location of the Trial. — Constitution of the Court. — Charges
against Jesus. — Perjury. — Failure of the High-priest's Case. — Jesus put
under Oath. — His Testimony to himself.— Sentence pronounced....... 440

XIV CONTENTS.

CHAPTER XXXIII.
THE JUDGMENT-HALL OF PILATE.
Authority of the Sanhedrim. — Their secret Council. — Death of Judas. —
Fortress of Antonia. — The Accusation before Pilate. — Jesus a King. — Pi
late's Character. — His reluctance to condemn. — Fears a Tumult. — Sends
Jesus to Herod.— His Wife's Dream. — " Crucify him!" — Releases Barab-
bas. — The Scourging. — A final Appeal. — Going to Calvary,  Page 454
CHAPTER XXXIV.
DEATH.
Cruelty of Crucifixion. — Locality of Calvary. — Inscription on the Cross. —
Simon of Cyrene. — The Procession. — The Execution. — Stolidity of the
Soldiers. — Taunts of Christ's Foes. — The penitent Thief. — Darkness, —
"It is finished!" — Cause of Christ's Death. — Burial  474
CHAPTER XXXV.
WHOSE SON IS HE?
The Question stated. — Blasphemy defined. — Christ's divine Claims. — The
Question answered  491
CHAPTER XXXVI.
THE RESURRECTION.
The Women at the Sepulchre. — Jesus and Mary. — The Walk to Emmaus.
— The Rationalist. — Appearance of Jesus in Galilee. — Skepticism of the
Disciples. — Evidence of the Resurrection. — Conclusion  499
APPENDIX.
The Miracles of the New Testament  513
The Authenticity of the Fqui- Gospels  518
List of Authorities. ;  523

List of Illustrations.

The Holy Land  h. Fern. .. Frontispiece.
Flowers op the Holy Land  :  H.Fenn.  23
Mount Sinai  s. Fenn  2T
Captivity  John Tenniel  43
The Nativity  Gwtave Dare.  65
The Stae of Bethlehem  T.B. Dalziel  73
The Jobdan  Birket Foster.  82
The Mosque of Omae  Birket Foster.  IIS
The Woman at the Well  Gustave Dore  131
The Sea of Galilee  Birket Foster.  152
The Healeb  Gustave Dori  1T3
The Pool of Hezekiah  From a Photograph. 197
Nain  K.Warren  252
'.'It is I"  Gustave Dore.  311
Tyke  Birket Foster  319
The Friend of Sinnees  Gustave Dori  343
Bethany  T.B. Dalziel  369
Jeeusalem  Birket Foster.  391
The Aeeebt  Gustave Dore  437
Aeoh op the Eooe Homo  Birket Foster.  455
Going to Calvaky.  Paul de Laroche  472
The Maeyb at the Tomb  Sehleh.  488
Cheistos Remuneeator.  Ary Scheffer  507
MAPS AND PLANS.
The Holy Land  18
The Temple of Heeod  117
Galilee  155
VIGNETTES.
EoceHomo  Title-page.
Floweeb and Fruits of Palestine  113, 150, 163, 228, 246, 274, 2S9, 332
Tables op the Law  40
Ruins at Baalbeo  *T
Saoeifioe  92
Ceown op Thoenb  t°2
The Peisonee at Machjseus  -^  301
Faeewell to Capernaum  317
Treachery  41S
Following apab off  439
The Last Judgment  509

MAP OF THE HOLT LAND.

The Life of Christ.

CHAPTER I.
THE HOLY LAND.
.¦>PON the eastern borders of the Mediterranean
Sea there lies a country whose moral importance
is in striking contrast with its territorial insig
nificance. This country, in area not so large as
Massachusetts,* which in shape it somewhat re
sembles, has been the scene of a drama incomparably more
influential upon the destinies of mankind than any other in
history. The stage is scarcely less remarkable than are the
scenes which have been enacted on it. The most extraor
dinary man of all time had his birth, and passed his life in
the most extraordinary of all lands. A few words, therefore,
concerning the geographical features of Palestine, and the
character and history of its people, form in some sense a pre
lude to the life of him who has given it its most commonly-
accepted title of the Holy Land.
¦ Situated at the junction of three great continents, Europe,
Asia, and Africa, Palestine partakes of the characteristic feat
ures of the three, and possesses in a diminutive form all their
peculiarities. Here, in Southern Judea, is the desert of Af
rica making its incursion from the peninsula below. Here,
bordering the Mediterranean, are plains that rival in fertility
those of our own great Western prairies. Here, in the ele-
* Palestine is in length 180 miles, in average breadth 65. — Kitto's Bib.
Cyc., art. Palestine.

20 THE HOLY LAND. [Chap. I.
vated mountain region of Central Palestine, is repeated the
hill country which constitutes the characteristic feature of
Southern Scotland. Here, in Northern Galilee, are mount
ains whose rugged steeps remind of the White Mountains
and the Alps. Here, embosomed in their midst, are lakes
unsurpassed for their quiet beauty. Here, in the Jordan, is
a mountain stream whose tumultuous torrent finds no equal
in any river of its size and length in the world. Here Mount
Hermon lifts its head, wrapped in perpetual snow, three thou
sand feet above our own Mount Washington. Here the wa
ters of the Dead Sea lie in a basin scooped out of the solid
rock, nearly, if not quite as far below the level of the ocean
as are the deepest mines of Cornwall. And here, almost in
sight of its holy city, beat the waves of the Great Sea upon
one hundred and fifty miles of rocky coast ; so that in this
one province, smaller than Massachusetts or Vermont, are
mingled the ocean, the mountain, the valley, the river, the
lake, the desert, and the plain.
Its varieties of climate and production equal those of its
physical features, and are in part produced by them. The
temperate and the tropic zones overlap each other in Pales
tine. With a general climate corresponding to that of North
ern Florida, it contains mountains whose heads are never free
from snow, and valleys that rarely, if ever, witness it, except
from afar. Tropical fruits and Northern cereals grow almost
side by side. The fig-tree and the grape-vine produce their
fruits in perfection on the sunny hill-sides of Judea. The
cedars clothe the rocky sides of Lebanon. The apple, the
pear, the plum, the quince, grow near neighbors with the
date, the pomegranate, the banana, and the almond. The
oak, the maple, and the evergreens of our Northern States
make here acquaintance with the sycamore, the fig, the olive,
residents of Asiatic climes. In a single day you may travel
from the climate and productions of the Gulf States to such
as characterize New England. In short, in this land, from
which issue influences for the redemption of all people, are

Chap. I.] PHYSICAL FEATURES. 21
united in a singular conjunction the characteristic features
and productions of all countries.
This land, though contiguous to three continents, and ly
ing in close proximity to the great nationalities of the past —
the Assyrian upon the east, the Egyptian on the southwest,
and the Greek and Roman on the north and west — was nev
ertheless, by its singular conformation, shut out from them
by barriers which, until after the Christian era, were nearly
impassable. The valley of the Jordan on the east, the Medi
terranean on the west, the desert on the south, and the mount
ain range of Lebanon and anti-Lebanon on the north, formed
a better protection than the famous wall of the Celestial Em
pire. Its peculiar location thus fitted it to be the centre, as
historically it has been, of the world's civilization, while its
peculiar character adapted it to be a home of a peculiar peo
ple, kept by the nature of their country, no less than by that
of their institutions, separate from the rest of mankind.
By its physical features Palestine is divided into three long
and narrow sections, parallel to each other, and nearly paral
lel to the coast — the valley of the Jordan, with the Dead Sea;
the hill country of Central Palestine; and the rich and fertile
lowlands which border the Mediterranean.
The Jordan, rising among the mountains of Galilee, flow
ing in a long and rocky gorge, rapidly descending south
ward, and issuing in the Dead Sea, one hundred and fifty
miles from its source and three thousand feet* below the
surface of its upper waters, forms a valley which, in its geo
graphical and geological features, is without a parallel in the
world. Buried between mountain ranges, effectually shield
ed from the Mediterranean breezes, this valley possesses^, a
climate whose intolerable heats are without alleviation, a
vegetation which, luxuriant in spring, is burnt and withered
in summer by a cloudless sun, and a people who are to this
day prone to those vices of the tropical climates which
brought destruction upon the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah.
* Smith's Bib. Diet., vol. ii., 674 a.

22 THE HOLY LAND. [Chap. I.
West of this valley the land rises by an ascent, in the south
even precipitous, to an elevated range of hills from fifteen to
eighteen hundred feet in height. In Judea this hill-country,
heated by breezes from the southern desert, possesses a cli
mate and productions of an almost tropical character. Round
ed hills of moderate height, now barren, but once covered with
terraced vineyards ; now desolate, but once crowned with vil
lages, are the characteristic features of the scenery. For a
few weeks of spring water-torrents fill the ravines, and flow
ers of the most brilliant hue, daisies, anemones, wild tulips,
poppies, clothe the land with dress of scarlet. But the fierce
rays of an intolerable sun and the scorching sirocco of the
desert soon blight and wither them. "The wind passeth
over it and it is gone, and the place thereof shall know it no
more." Proceeding northward, the scenery becomes more
varied, the mountains more marked, the plains more consid
erable, the soil better. Wells and springs increase in number,
the heat of the desert is escaped or counteracted by breezes
from the northern ranges of snow-clad mountains, the shrubs
of Southern Judea are supplanted by trees of larger growth
and by more enduring vegetation, until at length, in Galilee,
we reach a region whose springs and mountain streams, never
dry, supply Lakes Merom and Tiberias, the reservoirs of Pal
estine ; whose romantic mountains reach their consummation
in the snow-capped peaks of Lebanon and anti-Lebanon, and
whose verdure-clad hills and vales strongly contrast with the
relatively barren hills of Jewry.
Upon the west this plateau descends by a slope, fair more
gradual than on the east, to the plains of Sharon, Acre, and
Esdraelon. These lowlands constitute the most fertile part
of Palestine. Their average width is fifteen or sixteen miles.
The climate is mild, the soil rich. Orange -trees are laden
with fruits and flowers in January, and, when neither oppres
sion nor foreign invasion desolate the land, these plains are
covered with the richest and most luxuriant vegetation. It
was for the possession of these plains that the ancient Canaan-

FLOWEKS OF THE HOLY LAND.

Chap. I.]„ THE CRADLE OF CHRISTIANITY. 25 '
ites contended after they were driven from the hill-country,
and from which, the Book of Judges naively tells us, " The
Lord could not drive them out, because they had chariots of
iron."* Imagine, then, the State of Vermont, its western shore
bounded by the Atlantic Ocean instead of by Lake Cham
plain ; the Connecticut Valley, its eastern boundary, a deep
and almost impassable ravine cleft by some great convulsion
in the solid rocks ; the northern peaks of its Green-Mountain
range overtopping Mount Washington ; its southern hills
rounded like those of Western Connecticut; its northern cli
mate and productions not widely different from those of the
Middle States ; its southern counties akin in both respects to
the Gulf States, and the reader will have a tolerably accu
rate picture of that land which, the birthplace and home of
Jesus Christ, is the cradle of Christianity, f
* Judges i., 19.
t See Frontispiece. In this picture the artist has grouped the more char
acteristic features of the Holy Land in one view. In the foreground is a
glimpse of the Dead Sea and the tropical vegetation of Southern Palestine.
Beyond, and in the centre of the picture, rises Mount Tabor. To the right
are to be seen the waters of the Sea of Tiberias, while in the distance rise the
snow-clad heights of the Lebanon and Mount Hermon. To combine in one
view these varied aspects, and to preserve with accuracy the topography of
the country, was impossible, and has not been attempted. But the charac
teristic features of the land, excepting the plains and the sea-shore, have
. been caught and preserved by the pencil.

26 THE JEWISH COMMONWEALTH. [Chap. II.

CHAPTER H.
THE JEWISH COMMONWEALTH.
HE curtain rises on the Jewish drama, disclosing
a nation of slaves suffering under the most intol
erable bondage of an Egyptian despotism. They
are delivered by God through the hand of Moses.
They cross the Red Sea near its northern termi
nus, pass down its eastern shore, and at length assemble on
an extended plain in the midst of a wild and grand rocky
fastness, well fitted to be the cradle of a free people,* that
they may there receive from the hand of God the gift of na
tional life and liberty. Here Moses recounts to the people
their deliverance; he nominates Jehovah to be their king; he
declares that God will be their God if they will be His peo
ple. In the most solemn manner the question is submitted
to their suffrage. With acclamation they accept Jehovah
as their civil ruler. f Thus begins their national history.
Men grow into freedom. A race long enslaved is seldom
fitted for liberty with less than an education which outlasts
the first generation. In accordance with this almost univer
sal law of history, the Hebrew people wait till the generation
of slaves is dead before their children are brought to the
land of their fathers — the land which God had destined for
them. But this forty years is not misspent. During that
time a constitution and system of laws is perfected and
taught to them which underlies not only all their subsequent
* The picture of Mount Sinai which accompanies this chapter is from draw
ings and photographs taken at the place. The edge of Mount Sinai proper is
seen upon the left. The plain which occupies the centre is supposed to be
the location of the Israelites' encampment. For a description of it, see Rob
inson's Researches, vol. i., § iii., p. 140, and Stanley's Sinai and Palestine,
p. 42, 43. t Exod. xix., 1-9.

B.C. 1490.] RELIGIOUS SANCTIONS. .29
history, but in some measure the political history of the
world. For the Jewish Constitution was not perfectly form
ed and fully propounded from Mount Sinai. It was a growth
rather than a fabric. Its principles are scattered through
the books of Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy.
They have sometimes to be deduced from passages which
imply rather than directly teach them. But, thus gathered
and grouped together, they are seen to contain not only a
system of laws admirably adapted to the times and the peo
ple, but also those political principles which underlie free in
stitutions for all times and for all peoples.
Religion is the foundation of the state. This truth, which
the failures of the Grecian and Roman republics have taught
the world, Moses recognized in the very inception of the Jew
ish nation. " I am the Lord thy God, which have brought
thee out of the land of Egypt,"* is the preamble to their
Constitution. "Thou shalt have no other gods before me"f
¦is the first provision of their fundamental law. Their obe
dience is enforced, too,not by considerations of self-interest or
of patriotism, but by religious obligations. " Remember the
Sabbath-day to keep it holy," * * * for it "is the Sabbath
of the Lord thy God."| " Ye shall not therefore oppress one
another, * * * for I am the Lord your God." " The land shall
not be Sold forever ; for the land is mine."§ Such is the con
stant language of the Mosaic statutes. This was coupled with
precepts of religion and morality confessedly of the highest
and purest character — such that they have long outlived the
•tables of stone on which a summary of them was engraven.
" Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and
with all thy soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy
mind, and thy neighbor as thyself,"|| was declared by Christ
to be an epitome of the moral code which Moses prescribed.
He not only forbade theft,1^ adultery,** murder,ff assault,JJ
*Exod. xx.,2. t Ibid., xx., 3. X Ibid., xx., 8, 10. § Lev. xxv, 17, 23.
|| Deut. x., 12; xi.,1,22; xix., 9; xxx., 6; Markxii.,30; Luke x., 27.
f Exod. xx., Iii. ** Ibid., v. 14. ft Ibid., »., 13.
XX Exod. xxi, 14-27.

30 THE JEWISH COMMONWEALTH. [Chap. II.
crimes either openly permitted or practically connived at by
other and later systems ; he provided for the protection of
the poor and the outcast. " Thou shalt neither vex a stranger
nor oppress him ; for ye were strangers in the land of Egypt."*
" Ye shall not afflict any widow or fatherless child."f " Thou
shalt not oppress an hired servant ; * * * at his day thou shalt
give him his hire ; neither shall the sun go down upon it, for
he is poor. "| "Thou shalt not glean thy vineyard, neither
shalt thou gather eveiy grape of thy vineyard ; thou shalt
leave them for the poor and stranger. "§ Such precepts as
these, scattered through the statutes, prove that Moses re
membered, what the Church and the State have ever been
prone to forget, that humanity is a part of religion, and that
the rights of the poorest peasant are as sacred before a just
law as those of the noble or the king.
Three thousand years later the framers of our Declaration
of Independence declared the equality and liberty of the
people to be self-evident truths. These American axioms
Moses recognized and incorporated in the Hebraic Consti
tution. The assertion that all men are created equal would
have been received only with derision by the nations of the
earth. Every people were divided into classes by gulfs as
broad as that which separates Dives and Lazarus, such that
no man could pass. Moses forbade all caste and class distinc
tions: "Thou shalt not respect persons."! "Ye shall have
one manner of law as well for the stranger as for one of your
own country.'"-^ "Thou shalt not * * * honor the person of
the mighty."** Such were his repeated commands. He rec
ognized the unity of the people, and addressed them in the
name of their God as one. " I am the Lord thy God, which
brought thee out of the land of Egypt."ff And he declared
that Jehovah himself regarded not rank, nor wealth nor
birth. " For the Lord your God * * * * regardeth not
* Exod. xxii., 21. t Ibid., xxii., 22. t Deut. xxiv. , 1 4.
§ Lev. xix., 10. || Deut. i., 17; xvi., 19.
f Lev. xxiv., 22. ** Lev. xix. , 15. ft Exod. xx., 2.

B.C. 1490.] POPULAR SUFFRAGE. 31
persons, nor taketh reward."* Nothing analogous to an
hereditary aristocracy existed under his administration ; and
although a priestly order was established, it was, as we shall
presently see, deprived of all priestly power, and it was em
phatically declared that the whole people were a nation of
priests unto God,f whose ear was equally open to the prayers
of all.
No less radical would have been the assertion that govern-
ments instituted among men derive their just powers from
the consent of the governed.
All Oriental nations were absolute despotisms. The peo
ple were the slaves of irresponsible autocrats. Moses estab
lished the Hebrew commonwealth, by God's direction, as a
free republic, upon universal, or at least popular suffrage.
He submitted all questions to the action of the people. All
officers were elected by their voice. The Constitution which
he proposed was received and ratified by their vote. And
even God himself was accepted as their supreme civil ruler
by the independent voice of the great assembly. J
. But, while thus all questions were submitted to the voice
of the people, the Hebrew commonwealth was not a pure
democracy. Six hundred years later, in Sparta, all public
questions were submitted to the people in mass meeting.
* Deut. x., 1 7. t Exod. xix., 6.
X When the people first reached Mount Sinai, they were assembled by Mo
ses, and God said to them, "If ye will obey my voice indeed, and keep my
covenant, then ye shall be a peculiar treasure unto me above all people."
"'And Moses came and called for all the elders of the people, and laid before
their faces all these words which the Lord commanded him. And all the
people answered together, and said, 'All that the Lord hath spoken we will
d„. '"—Exod. xix., 5,7, 8. When, thereupon, their Constitution, the ten
commandments, was propounded, this again was submitted to them for ratifi
cation : ' ' And Moses came and told all the people all the words of the Lord,
and all the judgments ; and all the people answered with one voice, and said,
' All the words which the Lord hath said will we do. ' "—Exod. xxiv. ,3. And
although the account in Numbers, chap, xi., 16, 24,. uninterpreted, might
he thought to indicate that the officers were chosen by Moses, he himself
hears testimony that the people elected their own officers, and he meiely in
ducted them into office. — Deut. i., 13-18.
2*

•32 THE JEWISH COMMONWEALTH. [Chap. II.
The attempt proved an utter failure. In a convocation so
large deliberation was not possible ; debate, therefore, was
not allowed. Passion, prejudice, and ignorance were the en
actors of the laws. Moses established the first representa
tive government on earth. He constituted two representa
tive assemblies.
The first is known as the Great Congregation. It was the
Jewish House of Representatives. It reflected the popular
will. It was the Great Congregation that, on the report of
the twelve spies, voted not to attempt the subjugation of
Canaan.* It was before the Great Congregation that Joshua
was inducted into office.f It was the Great Congregation
that ratified the selection of Saul as king.| When Solomon
wished to establish the ark of the Lord at Jerusalem, it was
to the Great Congregation that he submitted the proposition,
and by them it was ratified and carried into effect. §
The other body consisted of seventy men selected from the
different tribes, Moses's chief counselors. || This body made
treaties,^ tried capital offenses, and enforced the execution
of the laws.** It was Cabinet, Senate, and Supreme Court.
Although Moses thus provided popular government, as
sured by prophetic vision that the popular mind would not
long be able to resist the dazzling enticements of royalty, he
provided a careful system of checks and restraints in case a
monarchy should be established. These are recorded in the
seventeenth chapter of Deuteronomy, ff No foreigner should
receive the imperial crown. The king should establish no
cavalry. He should lay no heavy taxation to enrich himself
and his court. He should not establish a harem. And he
should be himself subject to the laws of the realm. These
he should make his constant study. In brief, Moses so guard-
* Numb, xiv., 1-5, 10. t Numb, xxvii., 18-23.
X 1 Chron. xiii., 1-8. § 1 Kings viii., 1-5
|| Numb, xi., 16, 17.
t In the singular story of the inhabitants of Gibeon, the congregation were
dissatisfied with the treaty, but sustained it because made by the Senate 
Josh, ix., 18-21. ** Jer. xxvi., 10-16. ft Deut. xvii. , 14-20.

B.C. 1490.] LA WS AND PENALTIES. 33
ed the royal power and prerogatives that, in the later and
corrupt period of its history, so profligate a despot as Ahab
was able to accomplish so simple ah act of despotism as the
unjust absorption of a poor peasant's estate only by bribing
the regularly constituted judges of the land.*
Prior to Moses's day, law was, in general, little more than
the will of a single despot. He established a carefully, con
structed system of legislation. The laws which he pro
pounded were equally binding on the highest and the lowest
— the chief magistrate and the meanest subject — the priest
and the people. Some of these laws, tested by the demands
of modern society, have been thought cruel, others frivolous.
But if the value of a law is to be measured by its adaptation
to the people and the times, they are obnoxious to neither
charge. He permitted slavery, which it would have been in
vain to forbid. But he placed it under such restrictions that
at the time of Christ it had utterly disappeared. He allow
ed divorce and polygamy. But he so provided for the pro
tection of woman, that in this semi-barbaric people her con
dition was immeasurably above what it ever was in the
highest civilization of Greece or Rome. He affixed penalties
which, for the nineteenth century, would be unnecessarily
severe. But, at a time when families were always held re
sponsible for the act of their head, he forbade attainder ;f
and in an age and a nation without jails or penitentiaries,
and when, therefore, imprisonment for crime was impractica
ble, he provided capital punishment for but twelve crimes,!
while as late as A.D. 1600 two hundred and sixty-three were
punished with death in England. At the same time he care
fully guarded human life,, liberty, and property ;§ he made
special provisions for the detection of secret crime ;|| he es
tablished cities of refuge, in which the perpetrator of an acci
dental homicide might escape from the natural but unjust
* 1 Kings xxi. , 1 -1 6. t Deut. xxiv. ,16.
X See a list of them in Smith's Bible Diet, art. Laws of Moses.
§ See Exod. xx., 13; Deut. xxii., 8; Exod. xxii., 1-14;. Deut. xxiv., 7;
and ante, p. 29 and 30, and notes. II Deut. xxi., 1-9.

34. THE JEWISH COMMONWEALTH. [Chap. II.
revenge of the next of kin;* he compelled speedy payment
of wages to the day-laborer ;f he provided public charities
for the stranger and the poor. J
These provisions have absolutely no parallel in any ancient
legislation. Laws are useless forms without measures for their enforce
ment. Moses arranged a judiciary§ who were elected by the
people themselves,! but, apparently holding their office for
life, were not subject to popular passion and caprice ; and he
framed a system of courts whose nature, but dimly shadowed
forth" in the records which have come down to us, seem to in
dicate a carefully arranged system of inferior and appellate
courts, rising from a magistrate answering to our justice of
the peace, whose jurisdiction was purely local, to a Council
of Seventy, which answered to our Supreme Court of the
United States. --f
How to preserve local independence, and yet secure nation
al unity and strength, has been a perplexing political prob
lem in all ages. At an era when governments were either
centralized despotisms, like those of Persia and Egypt, or dis
integrated and perpetually warring tribes, like those of the
Canaanitish clans — like those maintained to the present day
among the Bedouin Arabs and the remnant of North Amer
ican Indians, Moses gave to this people a government whose
motto might well have been E Pluribus Unum. He recog
nized the tribal divisions already introduced ;** he provided
for their local organization. By his direction independent
territory was allotted to them, with well-marked bounds.ff
Their right to elect their own local officers, legislative, ex
ecutive, and judicial, was recognized and maintained. At
the same time, he merged them in one nation ; he instructed
them in the truth that their God Was one ; he provided one
worship, ritual, and tabernacle. Later was established one
* Numb, xxxv., 9-28 ; Deut. iv., 41-43. -j- Deut. xxiv. 15.
t Lev. xix., 9, 10 ; Deut. xxiv.,* 19-22 ; xxiii., 24, 25 ; xiv., 27-29.
§ Exod. xviii. || Deut. i., 13. 1 Exod. xviii., 21-25 ; Numb, xi., 24.
** Numb. i. tt Josh, xiii., xiv., 1-5.

B.C. 1490.] POPULAR EDUCATION. 35
capital and one national temple, whither all the people were
thrice a year assembled on solemn state and religious occa
sions.* He scattered through them all one priesthood, bound
together not less by the common ties of blood and ancestry
than by those of a common order, f He provided one chief
magistrate, at first a divinely appointed judge; J later, by the
will of the people, an hereditary monarch. And he estab
lished a Senate and House of Representatives which included
delegates from all the tribes, and combined them in a com
mon representative assemblage.
Popular education is essential to the maintenance of free
dom. Such provision -was made for this as was possible in
that age of the world. Moses required parents to instruct
their children in the laws and principles of the common
wealth ;§ he established a Levitical order, a part of whose
duty it was to instruct the people in the law upon great state
occasions,|| and who, later, scattered through Palestine, in
every town and village, taught them and their children by
private catechetical instruction.*^ An order of prophets was
provided, of which he was himself the first, who ful-filled the
double function of the modem press and the modern pulpit.
At the same time, freedom of speech, essential to a free repub
lic, was carefully secured by the Mosaic Constitution. It is
indeed, true that the preaching of false gods was a capital
offense, punishable with death, since, in a state whose civil
ruler was Jehovah, the effort to alienate the affections of the
people from him was not only irreligion, but treason.** Yet
even a false prophet could not ordinarily be punished by
the state until the events which he had assumed to foretell,
belying bis predictions, proved him to be an impostor, ff ,
* Exod. xxxiv., 23 ; and see Wines, Laws of the Anc. Hebrews, 445, 496,.
517, and passages there quoted. t Lev. iii.
' X Numb, xxvii., 15-23. § Deut. vi., 7; Exod. xiii., 14, 15.
. || Deut. xxxi., 9-13 ; xxxiii., 10 ; Nehemiah viii., 5-8.
. f 2 Chron. xvii,, 8, 9 ;* xxx., 22; xxxv., 3.
** Exod. xxii., 20 ; Deut. xiii., 1-5 ; xviii., 9-20.
tt Deut. xviii., 21, 22. For illustration of this freedom of speech, see
Jer. xxxviii. ;. 2 Sam. xii., .1-7 ; 1 Kings xxi., 17-24. The boldness of the

36 THE JEWISH COMMONWEALTH. [Chap. II.
Whatever state has possessed a national Church has always
found in its priesthood the worst foe to its freedom. Moses
organized a national Church ; he provided for it a movable
tabernacle, out of which, later, grew the magnificent Temple
on Mount Zion ; he established a priestly order. The priests
alone might enter the inner court of the Temple;* they alone
could offer acceptable sacrifice to God ;f they were the sole
authorized administrators of the Temple service. J But the
liberties of the people were carefully guarded against their
possible usurpations of power. A comparison of their condi
tion with that of the monks in the Middle Ages exhibits a
remarkable and instructive contrast. In the reign of Henry
VIII., it is estimated that from one tenth to one fifth of the
property of Great Britain was in the hands of the Roman
Catholic clergy. § The Jewish priesthood, deprived of all
share with the other tribes in the distribution of the land,
were wholly dependent on the laity for their temporal sup
port. || The Roman Catholic clergy framed decrees of excom
munication on earth which they assured the people were rati
fied in the high court of heaven. All ecclesiastical censures
in the Jewish Church were pronounced by the regularly con
stituted courts, after due trial, f The Roman Catholic clergy
added to their authority that which the assumption of super
natural powers gave them over a superstitious people. The
Jewish priests never wrought miracles. The Roman Catholic
clergy were both preachers and priests. Moses provided, as
we have seen, for a separate order of preachers, who, not iden
tified with the priests by ecclesiastical ties or by a common
interest, denounced unsparingly their corruptions, and consti
tuted a perpetual check upon their priestly assumptions.**
The Roman Catholic priesthood, separated from the people,
ancient prophets could only have been possible in a country where freedom of
speech was a fact as well as a theory. * Luke i., 9, 10.
1 1 Sam. xiii., 5-14. % Numb, i., 47-54 ; xviii., 21-23.
§ Hallam's Constit. Hist, of England, vol. i. , p. 76 n.
|| Numb, xviii., 20, 21 ; Deut. x., 8, 9 ; xviii., 1, 2. If Deut. xvii., 8-13.
** For an illustration of these denunciations, see Mal. i. , 6-8.

B.C. 1490,] POLITICAL ECONOMY. 37
secured their veneration less by their practical goodness than
by their self-imposed austerities and penances. The Jewish
clergy mingled with the people, intermarried with all the
tribes, and, leading themselves a free and joyous Life, were re
quired by the law to be the leaders in all their national festi
vals and public amusements.*
A survey of the Hebrew commonwealth would be incom
plete without noting two characteristic features of its politi
cal economy. However political power may be guarded, if
the land is concentrated in the hands of a few, the many be
come their vassals and serfs. The peasant population of the
Oriental world were then, and, indeed, are generally now, the
tenants at will of a despot. Moses declared that God was
the owner of the land ; the people were his tenants. At the
same time, he provided that every man should be a land
owner, and every family according to its number.f And
lest, in the future ages, by that process which destroyed the
political life of the Southern States, and threatens to-day the
integrity of Great Britain, the land should be concentrated
in the hands of a few wealthy aristocrats, he provided that
at the end of every half century the heirs might redeem the
estate which their fathers had sold. J
The industry of a nation is its wealth, and in its industry
lies its real life and power. Agriculture was in this age ac
counted the fitting pursuit only of slaves, or of women, who
were esteemed little better. Commerce was thought to de
mean the true noble. Literature and the learned professions
were utterly unknown. War constituted the only noble art ;
extension of territory by conquest the only recognized glory
of any nation. The Hebrew commonwealth was built on dif
ferent principles. Xerxes, Darius, Alexander, and Cyrus, vain
ly endeavoring to build up empire by the mere prowess of
arms, unconscious that national greatness consists in vitality
and not in extension, were, for years after, the world's recog-
* Deut. xiv., 26-27 ; xii., 17-19. t Numb, xxxiii., 54.
i Lev. xxv., 10, 13, 23-28.

38 THE JEWISH COMMONWEALTH. ¦ [Chap. II.
nized heroes. Moses discouraged war, provided for no stand
ing army, depended wholly on militia service,* and in actual
war on volunteers,f allowed not even the introduction of cav
alry, then the chief arm of offensive warfare,! but, pointing
the j)eople to agriculture as that which political economy
now shows us to be the basis of national wealth, gave such
direction to their industries as rendered them, throughout
their national career, almost wholly an agricultural people.§
To secure the perpetuity of these principles, they were not
left to the imperfect guardianship of oral tradition. They
were incorporated by Moses, at God's command, in sacred
writings,|| which were deposited in the ark of the covenant, in
the most sacred part of the temple. T In a church which per
mitted no graven image of God, occupying its place as a man
ifestation of the unseen Jehovah, and containing alike the
constitution of church and state, these sacred writings were
guarded with the most jealous care by prophet, priest, and
ruler, and — regarded to the present day by the devout Jew
with a reverence like that which the Roman Catholic accords
to the host — they have been preserved in substantial purity
to a degree remarkable, even if it be not regarded as super
natural. A representative government founded upon universal suf
frage and sustained by the sanction of religion, the equality
of all the people recognized before the law, two legislative
bodies answering to our Senate and House of Representatives,
a regularly organized judiciary, carefully contrived constitu
tional checks provided for the monarchy not yet established
but foreseen, a system of laws just, humane, and equally bind-
* Num. i. ; xxvi., 2-4. The local community sometimes failed to pro
vide for the national defense, and were bitterly denounced for it —Judges
v., 23. t Deut. xx., 1-9. t Deut. xvii., 16.
§ Wines, .414-17, and authors there quoted. That this was the chief at
traction of Palestine to the Israelites, see Deut. i., 25 ; viii., 7-10. That it
was held in high esteem among the people, note that Saul and David were
both taken from the farm to be kings. — 1 Sam. ix., 2, 3 ; xi. 4 5 - xvi. 11
12. Elisba also was ordained at the plow to the prophetic office.— 1 Kings
xix., 19. See also Amos i.,1. || Exod. xvii., 14. t Deut. xxxi., 24-26.

B.C. 1490.] ITS DIVINE ORIGIN. 39
•ing on all citizens, a territory divided into sovereign states,
yet united in one nation, popular education provided for by
the school-teacher and the prophet, freedom of speech guar
anteed, yet guarded from abuse, a priesthood shorn of the
powers which have ever made priestly orders dangerous to
liberty, the land equally divided among all the citizens, effects
ually preventing a landed aristocracy, war discouraged and
agriculture accepted as the basis of national industry and
wealth, one God acknowledged as the Sovereign King, and,
finally, these principles incorporated in a written Constitution
and system of laws, carefully guarded from corruption — these
are the salient features of the Hebrew commonwealth, as
framed and propounded by Moses, but under the inspiration
and guidance of God.*
For Moses always claimed for his legislation a divine ori
gin. Throughout his career he insisted that he acted solely
as the inspired prophet of God. He directed all the grati
tude of the people to Jehovah as their deliverer and law
giver, and this claim, generally acceded to by the people of
his own time, never, indeed, denied but once,f has also been
generally accepted in modern times as the most rational in-
* It will be seen from this rapid and condensed resume of the principles
of the Mosaic Legislature that I dissent altogether from that view which re
gards the Pentateuch as an obsolete code of laws, valuable chiefly to the
archseologist or the erudite* scholar. I believe, on the contrary, that, while
in detail many of its provisions were especially adapted to the age and the
people, and are not applicable to modern times and nationalities, its great
principles are those which every where and always underlie the free state ;
that, while none of its precepts can be said to be legally binding on other na
tions, it is invaluable as a text-book of political science ; and that national
hbertyandprosperityareassured Justin the measure in which its fundamental
principles are comprehended and embodied in modern legislation. The at
tentive reader can hardly fail to trace the remarkable parallel between these
principles and those which underlie our own republic, or to observe how al
most every problem of modern politics finds its solution in these laws of the
first and the grandest statesmen of all times. This survey, conducted for a
specific purpose, is necessarily brief— an outline, not a complete picture. He
who desires to fill it up will find materials for his investigation in the Scrip
ture references, and in the authorities referred to in the list of works con
sulted, which is given in the Appendix. t Numb. xvi.

40

THE JEWISH COMMONWEALTH. [Chap. II.

terpretation of a life so consistent, and a scheme of govern
ment at once so radical and so well adapted to the age, while
this claim is sustained not less by the durability than by the
inherent excellence of his work. The Jewish people, few in
number, un warlike in character, often subjugated, several
times carried away captive, finally dispersed throughout the
world, still preserve their nationality, and already, at the
time of Christ, had witnessed the rise and fall of Egyptian^
Assyrian, Babylonian, Persian, and Grecian dynasties, in ap
pearance far more powerful, in reality far less enduring than
their own.

B.C. 1450.] ANARCHY. ^

CHAPTER in.
DEGENERACY.
SnEVER was any nation more magnificently equip
ped with civil and religious institutions than
were the ancient Hebrews. Never did any na
tion by a history more terrible illustrate how
utterly insufficient are even divine institutions
to preserve a people not wise and virtuous to maintain and
administer them.
Under Joshua, the successor of Moses, the Jews concluded
a successful campaign against the aborigines of the land
which they were about to colonize. Never completely suc
cessful in driving them out from the plains, yet they became
complete masters of the hill - country of central Palestine.
Then commenced what has been well called the Middle Ages
of Jewish history. Forgetting that God and that worship
which constituted their national unity, when they were not
united in a common conflict with a common foe they were
engaged in internal conflict among themselves. " There was
no king in Israel : that which every man did was right in
his own eyes.* A wild revenge, such as almost obliterated
the tribe of Benjamin, took the place of careful and well-
considered justice ;f while many crimes, like that of the ab
duction of Mieah's priest and property, went utterly unpun
ished. J At length weary of this anarchy, and disgusted with
the avarice of Samuel's sons, whom his paternal partiality
had appointed as judges, the people sought relief, not by re
turning to the faith and order of their fathers, but by con
forming to the institutions of their neighbors. They de
manded a king. Against the expostulations of Samuel God
* Judg. xvii., 6; xxi., 25. t Judg. xix. , xx. , xxi. J Judg. xviii.

42 DEGENERACY. [ChaPvIH.
granted their request,* and the nation under Solomon out
rivaled its neighbors in a false glory, which, like the mag
nificence of autumn leaves, was only indicative of approach
ing death. In the reign of his successor ten tribes seceded,
the nation was rent in twain, a new capital was established,
a new and idolatrous worship set up in Samaria for the se
ceding tribes, and the history of the Jews flows thereafter in
a divided stream, as that of Israel and Judah. f After two
hundred years — years of increasing profligacy — the former
was carried away captive by the Assyrians, and their country
was repopulated by a colony from the land of their captors,
a mongrel population supplanted the tribes of Hebraic ori
gin, a hybrid religion the worship of Jehovah. J; The two re
maining tribes, retaining the national capital and temple,
preserved their nationality under the name of Judah ; but,
changing their religion with the fluctuating opinions of their
rulers, outrivaled their sister Israel in corruption,§ and were
finally carried away captive under Nebuchadnezzar. ||
In the seventy years of Babylonish captivity which fol
lowed, the individuality of Judah was maintained by their
distinctive worship, and their faith and hope were kept
alive by the courage of such prophets as Isaiah, Jeremiah,
and Daniel. The subjugation of Babylon by Cyrus, the
Persian conqueror, resulted in the restoration of the Jews,
the rebuilding of Jerusalem under Nehemiah, and the re-es
tablishment of the Temple service under Ezra. From this
event, occurring in the fifth century before Christ, date most
of the characteristic features of the society of his times — the
Pharisees, the Sadducees, the synagogues, the re-established
Sanhedrim. A few years later, Palestine, with all Asia Minor, became
tributary to Alexander the Great. His gigantic but unor-
* Monarchy, so far from being a divine institution, was established in ac
cordance with the demands of the people in spite of God's warning. — I Sam.
viii. t 1 Kings xii. % 2 Kings xvii.
§ Jer. iii., 11. || 2 Kings xxv., 1-12.

B.C. 588.]

BABYLONISH CAPTIVITY.

43

ganized empire did not long survive him. It was divided at
his death between his leading generals, and the last funeral
rites were scarcely performed over his grave before a series
of desolating wars for the supremacy broke out between

44 DEGENERACY. [Chap. III.
them. Palestine, the natural highway between Egypt, Baby
lon, Syria, and Greece, became the perpetual battle-ground of
these contending dynasties, and changed its masters with
every change in the varying fortunes of an almost ceaseless
war. It gained at length, under the Maccabees, a short
lived independence, but only to fall a prey to rival factions,
whose contests for political supremacy were intensified by a
relentless religious animosity between Sadducee and Pharisee;
until, finally, the victorious legions of Rome, under Pompey,
seized upon Jerusalem, and Herod, misnamed the Great, was
placed upon the throne of David by the power and decree of
Rome. The last of the Jewish kings, his advent was signal
ized by the destruction of Judaism, both as a nationality and
a religion ; and by the birth of Christ, and that system of
grace and truth which came through him.*
Such is the history, and such was the political condition
of Palestine in the time of Christ. Of the twelve tribes, two
only maintained their individuality. The rest were lost in
the mongrel population which inhabited Samaria, Galilee, and
Lower or Coelo-Syria. Jehovah was no longer accepted as
the King of the Jews. The throne of David was occupied by
the creature of a foreign country, sustained by the arms of a
foreign soldiery. The guards against monarchical usurpa
tion, which the Mosaic Constitution had provided, were swept
away. The popular right of suffrage was long since lost in
the universal wreck, and with it the popular representative
bodies which Moses had constituted. A military despotism
was substituted for the free commonwealth. Even the form
of national life did not survive the Herodian dynasty. At
Herod's death, Palestine, while Christ was still an infant, was
divided into petty provinces, and placed under the control of
Roman governors, who, under different names, fulfilled sub
stantially the same functions. The whole civil government
was administered by them. All capital cases were brought
* The First Book of Smith's New Testament History gives in a brief com
pass an admirable resume of this period of Jewish history.

A.D.I,] RUINS OF. THE COMMONWEALTH. 45
before them for adjudication. The high-priest was appointed
and removed at their pleasure. Their will was absolute law.
From their decisions there was, except in the; case of a Roman
citizen, no appeal. At the command of Herod, the infant
children of Bethlehem were slain without reason and without
resistance.* At the command of Pontius Pilate, the Galileans
gathering for sacrifice were massacred on their own altars, f
In every principal town the Roman soldiery were quartered,
and the Roman centurion, answering to our captain of infan
try, reigned a petty, and, therefore, an intolerable despot.
, Some ruins of the Mosaic tribunals, indeed, remained. ¦ In
every synagogue was a local court; in every city a larger
tribunal ; while at Jerusalem, the Sanhedrim, instituted in the
wilderness, and reinstated under the Maccabees, continued
to hold its sessions. Very little jurisdiction, however, was
left them save in ecclesiastical questions. They were power
less to protect the people from the exactions and oppressions
of foreigners. Petty sins against the Mosaic law they were
permitted to punish with excommunication, fine, and scourg
ing. Occasionally, in an outburst of popular passion, the Jew
ish people arose to execute the illegal sentence of death pro
nounced by the highest of these courts ;J but, for the most
part, all important cases of a civil or criminal nature were de
termined by the Roman military authorities, who, irresponsi
ble save to their superiors in office, meted out, as may be sup
posed, a very irregular kind of justice. They were flagrantly
corrupt. The wealthy criminal was rarely punished; the
wealthy suitor was seldom disappointed ; while delays of
justice were as common as its course was uncertain.§
* Matt, ii., 16-18. t Luke xiii., 1.
X As in the case of Stephen, Acts vii, 54-60.
§ Paul's experience, as gathered from the 25th and 26th chapters of Acts,
affords a striking illustration of the administration of justice at this time.
He is brought to trial before Felix, is interrupted in the middle of bis plea,
and the farther trial of the case postponed to a "more convenient season"
(Acts xxiv. , 25), in hope that his friends will raise money and purchase his
release (v. 26). Though a Roman citizen, he is left bound two years, Felix
thus seeking to secure favor among the Jews (v. 27). He is at length

46 DEGENERACY. [Chap. HI.
The Church outrivaled in degeneracy the state. Her priest
hood, greedy, dissolute, and infidel, demanded unlawful fees
for every temple service,* disgraced the religion they pro
fessed by the inhumanityf and profligacy of their lives,! ancl>
shamelessly avowing themselves the disciples of Sadduceeism,
the materialistic philosophy of their day, denied the immor
tality of the soul and the reality of the spiritual existence.
The Temple, repeatedly desecrated and partially destroyed
in the long and desolating wars, had been rebuilt by Herod,
not from religious motives, but for political effect. But its
true glory had departed. Its outer court, filled with sheep,
and cattle, and money-changers' tables, was converted into a
market-place, and the busy hum of many voices, the lowing
of cattle, and the clinking of money mingled with the mean
ingless music of a service whose symbols remained but as a
dead and unknown tongue that spoke no longer to the heart.
From the days of Malachi to those of John the Baptist, nearly
four centuries, no true prophet had appeared to stem the tide
of increasing corruption, and their place was occupied by
scribes, who substituted for the sublime moral and religious
teachings of Isaiah, and Jeremiah, and Ezekiel the most puer
ile discussions of ceremonial regulation. The Scriptures alone
were preserved intact in the general corruption. But there
had grown up a body of oral tradition and rabbinical lore
which had taken the place of the Scriptures, if not in the pop
ular estimation, at least in that of the ecclesiastics, and which
made the Scriptures of none effect. § In brief, after the tem
pestuous experiences which we have recorded, the fragments
of a wrecked Judaism alone remained. The nation retained
its name, but not its national life. The Church preserved its
brought before Festus, and only escapes inevitable death (xxv., 9) by plead
ing his Roman citizenship, and appealing to the emperor (v. 11). And yet,
though this appeal is final, and takes all jurisdiction out of the hands of Fes
tus (v. 12); he is brought before the court again on the arrival of Agrippa,
evidently not for an honest trial, since, after the appeal, no judgment, even of
acquittal, can be rendered (xxvi. ,32), but for the mere amusement of the king
and queen. *Mal. i., 10.
t Luke x., 31, 32. % Hosea vi., 9. § Mark vii., 13.

A.D. 1.]

CORRUPTION OF THE CHURCH.

47

form, but, without the life of piety, resembled a tree in win
ter, stripped of its foliage and frozen at its roots. The world
waited a new and better revelation, while Herod uncon
sciously fulfilled the prophecy of the ancient patriarch, " The
sceptre shall not depart from Judah, nor the lawgiver from
between his feet until Shiloh come ; and unto Him shall the
gathering of the people be."*
When the blossom drops we know the fruit is coming.
The once beautiful but now faded and withered blossom of
Judaism dropped from its stalk that the fruit of Christianity
which it foretold might take its place.
* Gen. xlix., 10.

48 JEWISH CIVILIZATION. [Chap. IV.

CHAPTER IV.
JEWISH CIVILIZATION IN THE FIRST CENTURY.*
N the midst of the civilization which Christianity has
brought with it, it is not easy for us to conceive of
the condition in which Christ found the world, and
the circumstances amidst which he passed his life.
Surrounded with all the appliances of modern sci
ence and art, we forget that Jesus lived at a time when man
kind traveled not only without railroads and steam-boats,
but without post-roads and carriages ; transacted all their
business not only without banks, paper currency, or credit,
but, for the most part, without internal commerce or any sys
tem of domestic trade ; acquired such education as was pos
sible not only without adequate schools, but without books,
papers,* or accessible literature ; pursued their various indus
tries not only without the aid of the modern forces of steam
and water, but without any considerable labor-saving ma
chinery ; and lived not only without the comforts which
modern art affords, but without such seeming necessaries of
life as chairs and fireplaces.
The political condition of Judea under the sceptre of Rome
We have already partially described. With the imperial gov
ernment came its elaborate system of taxation. The Roman
provinces were well called tributary, since they did little else
* It is doubtful whether, to the common reader, the value of this chapter
would be enhanced by reference to the numerous authorities which have been
consulted in its preparation. Most of them would be inaccessible except to
the few. I have, in the Appendix, referred to the more important of these
works, and I believe the minutest detail is capable of verification. The pas
sages of Scripture referred to in the notes are given, not as authorities for the
statements made, but as illustrative of them.

A.D. 1.] TAXATION. 49
than contribute to the already plethoric treasury of its luxu
rious capital. Every thing in a Roman province was taxed.*
Every article exported paid for the privilege of going out ;
every article imported paid for the privilege of coming in;
every article sold paid a tax of one per cent, on the purchase
money; every slave twice that amount. To manumit him
cost his owner five per cent, additional. Every house paid
one tax, every door in it another, every column which adorn
ed it a third. Every man of property paid for its peaceable
possession a tax ranging sometimes as high as twelve per
cent. ; every poor man paid for the privilege of living a poll-
tax practically determined by the greed of the gatherer and
the poverty of his victim ; and, finally, every old bachelor
paid a special tax for the privilege of his independence.
This system of taxation, oppressive at the best, was made
intolerable by the method of its collection, than which a cor
rupt court never devised one more nefarious. The provinces
were farmed out by the Roman government to wealthy in
dividuals, or joint-stock companies, who paid large sums for
the privilege of extorting whatever their unscrupulous hands
could wring from a poverty-stricken people. They, in turn,
let these provinces in smaller districts to sub-contractors, who
employed in the collection of the taxes the lowest and worst
class of the native population, since no others would assume
a task so odious. These are the publicans of the New Testa
ment. Selected for their unscrupulousness and inhumanity,
they combined the principles of a lower ward politician with
the humane sentiments of a modern pugilist. Usually com
pelled to pay over to their superiors the exorbitant amount
which the government had assessed upon their district, they
were dependent for their support upon the excess which they
were able to extort from, an already overtaxed community.
They overcharged when they had opportunity ; they brought
false charges of smuggling in order to extort hush money;
they detained and opened letters on mere suspicion; they
* See Smith's Dictionary of Antiquities, article " Vectigalia."

50 JEWISH CIVILIZATION. [Chap. IV.
were well called the wolves and bears of human society, and
by their conduct deserved their universal reputation, which
was coined into a proverb current throughout the Roman
Empire, "All the publicans are altogether robbers."*
Such a government did as little to preserve public tran
quillity as to promote public prosperity. The sense of nation
al oppression, intensified by religious rancor, kept the entire
population in a state of suppressed ferment, which ever and
anon broke out in open riotings, and eventually culminated
in the dreadful scenes which accompanied the siege and de
struction of Jerusalem. The irregular administration of jus
tice by courts lax and corrupt left each individual to redress
by private revenge his real or fancied wrongs. The insecu
rity of life and property, and the unfruitfulness of honest in
dustry, in a community where the rich were the lawful booty
of the government drove men, embittered by injustice, into
lives of professional robbery and pillage.
The southern deserts were full, as they still are, of wander
ing tribes of Bedouin Arabs, and the wild and rocky fast
nesses of Northern Galilee with troops of well-organized brig
ands. These, making constant incursions into the open and
cultivated country, bore off in a single night the ripened fruit
of the year's labor. Only where their wide-extended desola
tions left nothing for the tax gatherers did the Roman le
gions undertake to guard the community from their rapacity.
Such a state of society forbade a scattered rural popula
tion. No well-stocked farms clothed the naked land with
fruitfulness as with a garment. No peaceful country homes,
embowered in trees, greeted the traveler with a kindly smile.
The peasant population gathered in towns and villages for
mutual protection. For greater security, these were built, in
general, on the summit of the hills. From these centres the
farmers issued in the morning to their daily toil, and returned
at sunset to their nightly rest. But the land they tilled was
constantly subjected to a predatory warfare like that which
* Smith's Bib. Diet., article "Publicans."

A.D. 1.] CITIES. 51
cursed the border counties of England and Scotland in the
days of Bruce.
The cities were often considerable in size and pretentious
in character. They were almost universally surrounded by
walls, whose gates seldom admitted the traveler after night
fall. A council of elders, answering to our Common Council,
and a governor of the city, resembling our mayor, maintain
ed the form of municipal government, but, under the central
ized despotism of Rome, little else than the form. There was
no adequate police. The ancient watchmen, who in the days
of Isaiah announced, at night the hours as they passed,* were
in effect supplanted by the centurion with his band, who was
quartered in every considerable town, and who was answera
ble to his superior for its order. A foreign military force is
a poor substitute for a domestic local police. So it proved
in Palestine. Public riotings were quickly quelled ;f private
wrongs were rarely redressed.J
In other respects the administration of city government
presents but a sorry aspect in contrast to that presented by
modern civilization. The city of New York expends annual
ly one million of dollars on her public charities, and sustains
not far from one hundred private institutions for the relief of
the sick, the suffering, and the destitute. The only resem
blance in Palestine to this intricate, though not always wise
ly-administered charity, was a tax levied on all residents and
transient guests for the partial relief of the poor. Ten thou
sand lights in store and street give to the modern city its
gayest aspect after dark, and for purposes of business and of
pleasure turn night into day. The only relief to the dark
ness with which night enveloped the Jewish city was the
flaming torch, borne in the hand of the adventurous spirit
whom necessity compelled to traverse the narrow streets
whose overtopping houses shut out the light even of the
stars, and afforded admirable lurking-places for the thieves
* Isa. Iii., 8 ; Ixii., 6. t Acts xxi., 31, 32; xix., 40.
. X Acts xviii., 17.

52 JEWISH CIVILIZATION. [Chap. IV.
who infested every considerable town. One hundred and
forty miles of sewerage underlying the streets of Paris con
stitute an admirable and intricate system of water-courses,
cleansing the city from its continually accumulating filth.
There was not a sewer in all Palestine. In Jerusalem the
sole substitute therefor were the fires of Gehenna, which,
burning night and day in the Valley of Hinnom, consumed
the offal of the city. In lieu of the broad, light, sunny, well-
paved streets of the modern metropolis, were narrow, muddy,
unpaved lanes, barely wide enough to enable two beasts of
burden to pass each other. They were innocent of sidewalks,
and unrelieved by a single shade-tree.
The imperious demands of thirst in Palestine compelled
some provision for its relief. Often the water was brought
some considerable distance by hand from neighboring wells.
Thus Sychem and Nazareth were supplied. Sometimes the
city depended on cisterns which caught and accumulated the
falling rain. To such cisterns, broken and in ruins, the proph
et compared the false gods for whom Israel had forsa"ken Je
hovah, the fountain of living waters.* To Jerusalem a sup
ply was brought from Bethlehem by an aqueduct built by
Solomon,f renewed by Hezekiah,J and rebuilt by Herod, the
ruins of which remain to this day. Thus, of our modern mu
nicipal conveniences, our provision for fresh water may be
said to be the only one borrowed from the past.
The Jewish town did not make up in beauty what it lacked
in comfort. The narrow streets of a city, whose population
was necessarily crowded within the compass of its walls,
gave but little opportunity for architectural display, and
none for those gardens which so greatly enhance the attract
iveness of our rural towns. But, on the other hand, the sub
urbs were not characterized by that inextricable chaos which
usually belongs to an American city. There was no growth,
and none of that immaturity and imperfection which always
accompanies growth. Just outside the city walls the wealth-
* Jer. ii., 13. t Eccles. ii., 5, 6. J 2 Kings xx., 20 ; 2 Chron. , xxxii., 30.

A.D. l.J HOUSES. 53
ier classes had their summer retreats. Wide-extended vine
yards, orchards, flower and vegetable gardens, supplied the
city with fruits and vegetables, a staple article of diet, and
filled the air with the fragrance of blossoms in their season.
For thirty miles in every direction these gardens surrounded
the city of Damascus. It was literally embowered in luxu
riant vegetation.
If we pass from the city to the individual home, we shall
find as little to covet. The peasant's hut, built of mud or
sun -burnt bricks, gradually dissolved under the influence
of the weather; its perishable material alternately washing
away in muddy streams in winter, and blown about in clouds
of dust in the heats of summer. Sometimes an entire village
was nearly destroyed by a violent storm of rain.* A single
room combined parlor and chamber, kitchen and stable. The
cattle shared this hovel with their owners. A platform, slight
ly raised above the earthy floor, prevented an intimacy too
intolerable. . Christ was not the only infant whom Palestine
had seen cradled in a manger. Without window, fireplace,
or chimney, the room was lighted, if at all, by an opening in
the side or roof, which admitted, with disagreeable impartial
ity, rain and sunshine ; and warmed by a fire burning on the
floor, filling the room and blackening the ceiling with its
smoke. The houses of the wealthier classes, built of brick or stone,
were frequently magnificent, never truly comfortable. In
structure they were all similar.
Let us in imagination visit the house of a Jewish Rabbi.
Passing through an arched gateway which constitutes the
front door, and pausing a moment to gaze at the inscriptions
from the Jewish law which cover the door-posts, in compli
ance with the ancient Mosaic requirement,! we find ourselves
in a court-yard in the centre of the house. The air is fra
grant with flowers, and musical with the singing of birds and
* Brown's Antiq., ii., 215. To this fact Christ perhaps refers in Matt, vii.,
27. Compare also Isaiah xxx. , 13 ; Psalm lxii., 3. t Deut. xi., 20.

54 JEWISH CIVILIZATION. [Chap. IV
the merry laughter of a fountain. Here our host is accus
tomed to receive his guests. A rude bench affords us a mo
mentary seat while we await his coming. The rooms of the
first floor you observe all open from this central square, and
there in the corner of the yard a staircase shall conduct us
presently to a balcony, which, running round the house, forms
the hall of the second story. The servants' quarters are
there, and perhaps a room for children or for guests. But
the principal rooms are below; for the Jew, like the Southron,
is not fond of stairs, and prefers to live on the ground floor.
Reader, I beg leave to introduce you to our friend, the
Rabbi Nicodemus.
You will not extend to him your hand, but will make him
a low and somewhat obsequious bow. You are hardly fa
miliar, enough with him to proffer the kiss, and your Ameri
can pride will scarcely allow you to recognize his superiority
by kissing the hand which, nevertheless, he may with haughty
condescension extend to you for that purpose. You will
greet him with " Peace be with you," or " The Lord be with
you ;" and you will mean about as much by it in Palestine as
you mean by " Good-by," or " How do you do ?" in America.
It is not likely that we should ever see any thing more of
the Rabbi Nicodemus's house than we see now, had we not
some special privileges, as readers always have ; for the Rab
bi's guests seldom pass beyond this court-yard, which is at
once hall, reception-room, and parlor. But, having special
privileges, we will avail ourselves of them to enter the rooms
within ; and certainly it is our first impression that art has
added nothing in the nineteenth century to the luxury of the
first. Resplendent curtains of cloth and silk, purple, blue,
crimson, cover with their magnificent draperies the other
wise naked walls of stone. Rich carpets from the East,
whence still our richest fabrics come, partially cover the tiled
floors. The ceiling of wood, painted, carved, paneled, out
vies in costly elegance our most elaborate frescoing.* Cush-
* See Jer. xxii., 14.

A.D. 1.] FURNITURE. 55
ions ranged along the side of the room invite us to luxurious
repose. A simple table and a couch, that is both sofa by day
and bed by night, complete the furniture of the room. But
where is the fireplace? My dear friend, there is not, in this
first year of our Lord, a chimney in all Palestine. Even in
the palace a brazier filled with burning coals is the best sub
stitute which wealth can find for our open grates and luxu
rious furnaces ;* and the arch-enemy of all health and happi
ness has not yet invented that insidious disturber of domes
tic peace and destroyer of family health, the air-tight stove.
The window? There is no glass in Palestine. And in the
homes of even the wealthiest, the open lattice-work, constitu
ting their only window, affords but imperfect light to the
room which it equally imperfectly protects from wind and
rain. The chandelier? If there be one, it is more ornate in
form than useful in fact. The gayest festivalwhich Dives ever
gives depends for illumination on a smoking wick floatng in
a cup of oil, or on the lurid glare of the primitive cresset.
The ladies will not be content with this glimpse of the
outer life. They will inquire curiously for the kitchen. The
thrift of an American, at least of a Northern farmer, is meas
ured by the capacity of his barns ; that of his wife by the ca
paciousness and convenience of her kitchen. With its cold
water brought by an aqueduct from a neighboring spring,
its modern stove, its brick oven, its capacious pantries, its
shining array of polished pans and burnished kettles — every
one a mirror — its adjoining wash-room, with boiler set and al
ways ready with warm water, its patent churn, that mints the
golden butter with marvelous celerity, and its great wood
shed close at hand, piled full of hickory and maple, the Amer
ican kitchen is the heart of the whole house, and its pulsa
tions are felt from attic to cellar — the most vital organ of the
whole domestic economy. The ladies, therefore, will not un
naturally demand to see the kitchen.
It is doubtful whether, their curiosity can be gratified.
* John xviii., 18.
3*

56 JEWISH CIVILIZATION. [Chap. IV
To be frank, it is doubtful whether Lady Nicodemus has a
kitchen. Her culinary art and its conveniences are about
such as characterize the camp of an American lumberman.
Three stones, arranged in backwoods fashion about a fire
built upon the ground, constitute her range. Water she
brings upon her head from a neighboring well, sometimes
half a mile or more distant.* Wood is scarce. Coal is un
known. What the American boys burn for their bonfires,
the Jewish wife carefully collects for her fuel — clippings from
the grove or the orchard, and dried stalks or old straw from
the field, f She grinds her wheat in a hand-mill in quantities
as needed, and its music, like that of the coffee-mill in the
New -England village, follows close on the crowing of the
cock in every house in the Holy Land. J She bakes her bread
by burying it in the ashes ; or perhaps she has a little mova
ble brick oven, clay-lined. More frequently she supplies her
household from the public bakery. § She roasts her meat by
sewing it in the skin in which nature first inclosed it, and
covering it with the glowing embers ; she churns her butter
by putting it in a leathern bag, and shaking it violently to
and fro upon a pole. When all domestic labor was a drudg
ery, wonder not that woman was a slave.
If, however, women had few conveniences for meeting the
demand's of an epicure, the modern epicure was not there to
trouble her. If art had not introduced the conveniences, nei
ther had refinement produced the demands of modern civil
ization. The luxury which corrupted Greece and Rome was
known in Palestine at the time of which we write, if at all,
only in the houses of Greek and Roman. The wants of the
Jew were few and simple. The hours for meals were about
the same as those still maintained in the rural regions of New
England. Our host rises with the sun to an early breakfast,
dines at noon, and sups at sundown. He invites us to remain
to supper. We will accept the invitation.
* See John iv., 7. t John xv., 6 ; Matt, xiii., 30.
X Matt, xxiv., 41. § Lev. xxvi., 26 ; Jer. xxxvii., 21.

A.D. I.J MEALS. 57
This supper is our principal meal. He provides water for
our hands ; and as our feet, unprotected by shoes or stock
ings, are rather the worse for our walk through the dusty
streets, a servant unlooses our sandals and washes our feet as
well. The tables are arranged on three sides of a square ;
the fourth is left open for the servants. The Rabbi seats you
next himself, the place of honor ; for every seat is numbered,
and the controversies for precedence in rank are sometimes
strangely bitter. In our democratic atmosphere, it is hard to
understand the state of society which gives such significance
to Christ's rebuke of these unseemly social contentions. The
host utters grace, and, without farther ceremony, the meal
begins. Nicodemus's ancestors have borrowed from the East, dur
ing the long Babylonish captivity, some customs which he
still retains. The guests recline in an attitude which, how
ever awkward it may seem to you, to them seems the perfec
tion of luxury. The table is covered with flowers ; the room
is scented with perfumes ; and through the open door there is
wafted from the court the fragrance of the garden, the music
of its fountain, and the song of its many birds.
Perhaps our host has killed and dressed with his own hand
a kid for our special honor. Perhaps he has found in the
market a fish brought from the Sea of Galilee, or the shores
of the Mediterranean. Fruits and bread constitute, however,
the staple articles of diet. There are no American pies, no
English puddings, no French confections. Milk and wine are
the beverages. China has not sent hither her teas, nor Java
her coffee ; and as for total abstinence societies, they are as
little known outside the circle of a few religious ascetics as is
that universal drunkenness which necessitated, them.
Pray why do you wait ? For your knife and fork ? My
good friend, there are none. The Rabbi has never heard of
those modern conveniences. You must imitate your compan
ions. Help yourself; take the meat in your fingers, if you
take it at all, and dip your bread in the dish of gravy which

58 JEWISH CIVILIZATION. [Chap. IV.
passes from guest to guest for that purpose. If your host
should happen to hand you some delicate morsel, do not scru
ple to receive it from his fingers ; it is a .special attention to
a favored guest. This careful washing "of the hands before
every meal is not, you must now confess, altogether a cere
monial observance.
Before you bid adieu to your, host, you may follow him up
that staircase we noted to the flat roof which covers and com
pletes the house, and constitutes an important feature of it.
Here you may take with him a siesta, if you will, or sit shar
ing his evening rest. Here, if the night be hot, he will
bring his mattress by-and-by, making his roof his sleeping
apartment. Here his good wife, too, hangs out her linen to
dry, and prepares her figs and raisins, spreading them out in
the warm sunlight; and on the adjoining roof you may pres
ently see his neighbor, under the false pretense of seeking re
tirement, perform his evening devotions, that he may be seen
of men.
The dress of the Rabbi Nicodemus and his household is
not less worthy of our observation than his house and its fur
niture. It merits a moment's description. The material of
the ancient Jews' attire was the same as now employed, wool
en, cotton, linen, and sometimes, though more rarely, silk. Its
construction was simple, and the articles of raiment few. Its
most usual ground color was white. Its ornamentation was
showy and elaborate.
The slave wore but a single garment — a long tunic reach
ing to the ground, and gathered by a girdle about his waist.
With all other garments laid aside, and his loins girt about,
the Christian is commanded to await the commands of his
Lord. The master, over a similar tunic, wore a garment like
a gentleman's modern dressing-gown, the white ground usu
ally interwoven with threads of crimson and scarlet in the
fabric, and often richly embroidered by the busy fingers of
his industrious wife. If he were going out he wrapped about
him his burnouse, a quadrangular piece of cloth somewhat

A.D. 1.] DRESS. 59
resembling a gentleman's shawl ; a turban or a hood was the
covering of his head. His wife wore a somewhat similar ap
parel. In public, however, she was completely enveloped in
her outer cloak, and closely veiled, so that her guests saw
really but little more of her attire than of her features.
Eighteen centuries has made but little change in the gar
ments of the East, and between the dress of the modern Syr
ian and that of the ancient Jew there is but little difference.*
Vanity of dress, however, is not modern. Though there
was not, in the days of Christ, a glass window in all Pales
tine, there was not a house without a mirror made of polished
metal. The dress of the poor varied from that of the rich
only in the cost, scarcely in the amount of ornamentation. A
modern belle, looking on her Jewish prototype, might certain
ly lament the degeneracy of the age. To the ear-rings of
modern times she added a ring in the nose. The single brace
let of to-day is all that is left of the armlets which literally
covered her arms from the shoulder to the wrist. The cos
metics secretly applied are a substitute for the paint with
which she ornamented her face with as little secrecy as a
modern belle employs in adding to her hair. Pins sparkling
with precious stones gathered her loose and flowing robes
into folds about her neck and waist. Rings loaded down her
hand, whose whiteness was outdazzled by their brilliancy.
Chains of gold, with pearls and emeralds attached, hanging
from the neck, bore no watch indeed, but some sacred amu
let. Manacles of the same precious metal encircled the an
kles, and, chained together, compelled the mincing gait which
the modern beauty has to study, while tinkling ornaments
pendent from it made it literally true that she had music
wherever she went. In her hand she carried the curiously-
wrought handkerchief which the modern lady still carries,
* The limits of these pages do not permit a detailed description of the va
rieties of costume, which are here, therefore, only described in general terms.
For fuller descriptions the reader is referred to the various authorities cited
in the Appendix.

60 JEWISH CIVILIZATION. [Chap. IV.
and the box of delicate perfumery which her successor leaves
upon the toilet-table.* How extensive was the use of jew
eled ornaments, even in the days of Moses, is indicated by the
fact that they furnished gold enough to make the sacred uten
sils for the tabernacle after, by one melting, the people had
made the golden calf,f while the women's brazen mirrors fur
nished the laver of brass for the tabernacle service. J
In the days of Christ intercommunication was difficult. To
the ancient Jew Palestine was practically almost as great a
country as the United States to us. Eighteen centuries have
produced but little change, and the modern book of travels
depicts with tolerable accuracy the methods in vogue in. the
first century. There were almost literally no roads. Wild,
rocky, and often dangerous paths, barely wide enough for a
single mule, leading over the mountains and down the steep
ravines, provided the means of transit which are now afford
ed by our broad wagon roads and swift, smooth railways.
God had prohibited the importation of horses into Palestine. §
They were never to any considerable extent employed. The
only carriage was a rough, two-wheeled cart, and this was of
little service in the hill-country. The men generally traveled
on foot ; mules and camels carried the women and children.
The insecurity of the cpuntry rendered it then, as now, almost
indispensable to go in caravans. A staff carried in the hand
was the traveler's almost constant companion ; a bag, sus
pended from the neck or bound upon the back, constituted
his usual baggage. ||
Such a thing as an inn, in the modern acceptation of the
term, was unknown. In the larger towns were halting-places
for travelers, resembling the wagon-yards which are to be
found in our Western towns. Here the traveler could pro
cure shelter for his cattle and himself. He could obtain war
ter, and permission to cook, in a court or square, such articles
* For a description of ancient dress, see Isa. iii., 18-24.
t Exod. xxxii., 2-4 ; xxxv., 22, % Exod. xxxviii., 8.
§ Deut. xvii., 16. II See 1 Sam. xvii., 40.

A.D. 1.] COMMERCE AND MANUFACTURES. 61
of food as he possessed, in such utensils as he carried with
him. Even Jerusalem probably contained no better provis
ion for the traveler than this. Private hospitality helped to
provide, however, what public accommodation failed to afford.
The Jews were not a commercial people. The commerce
which Solomon attempted to establish decayed at his death,
and was never revived. But internal trade was greatly de
veloped by the national feasts which called all the people to
Jerusalem thrice a year. On these occasions traders opened
temporary booths at the public gates, and finally, at the time
of Christ, intruding nearer and nearer to the Temple, which
was the great centre of attraction, had converted its outer
court into a market-place. The money was wholly hard cur
rency — gold} silver, copper. Banks, and notes, and bills, it is
hardly necessary to state, were unknown. All business was
strictly for cash. The fiction of thirty days was not invent
ed. The division into wholesale and retail trade is of later
origin. The booths which accompany a modern agricultural
fair are a modification of ancient commerce, and afford a fair
illustration of its character.*
Manufactures were of the simplest kind.. There was little
or no machinery. No busy wheels made the mountain
streams of Northern Judea do the work of many men. No
priest had yet pronounced the marriage vows between fire
and water, and consecrated its giant child to the service of
humanity. There were workers in iron, bronze, silver, and
gold, who united the labors of the blacksmith with those of
the jeweler; but so simple an invention as the bellows had
not been thought of, and the workman, with no other means
of stimulating the furnace fire than blowing it through a long
pipe, had hard work and but poor pay. The carpenter was
housebuilder and carver too. But his tools were few; a
rude sort of plane, a saw, a chisel, a drill or awl, a mallet in
lieu of hammer, an axe and nails, seemingly his chief utensils.
Masons worked in brick and stone as early at least as the
* See Neh. xiii., 15-21.

62 JEWISH CIVILIZATION. [Chap. IV.
days of Solomon. Ship-builders constructed the simple ves
sels which served the fisherman's art on the Sea of Galilee.
The women, as in the last century in New England, did all,
or nearly all the spinning and weaving, which were known
only as household arts ; and they added skillful embroidery
with the needle, in which later ingenuity has not considerably
improved upon them.*
The chief avocation of the Jew, however, was agriculture.
But what modern farmer, with his well-fenced farm, his burst
ing barns and granaries, his innumerable plows, and drills,
and reapers, and mowers, and threshers, in the midst of which
he stands bewildered by the very multiplicity of the conve
niences that are offered to him, would recognize the Jew
ish agriculturist ? An indescribable thing which they called
a plow curried the earth for sowing ; a second currying cov
ered in the seed, which no wonder the fowls of the air came
and devoured. The ripened grain was sometimes gathered
by the sickle, more frequently pulled up by the roots, f The
stalks gave the housewife her fuel; the cattle trampled out
the grain to thresh it ;J the farmer tossed it in the air against
the wind to winnow it ;§ and, finally, he buried it in the ground
to store it.
Wheat was the staple product of the farmer ; but the vine
yard was a greater favorite than the farm. These vineyards
covered the now bare and barren hillsides of Judea, which
were terraced to their very summit, and produced every va
riety of fruit which a climate that commingles the torrid and
the temperate zones can easily supply. But wild beasts
preyed upon them ; wilder men plundered them ; and neither
the thick walls of stone, nor the almost impenetrable hedges,
nor the watchman, who never left them in the ripening sea
son, day or night, were able to afford them adequate protec
tion. || In short, agriculture, in the degenerate days of Juda-
* See Proverbs xxxi., 13, 19, 21-24. -f Isaiah xvii., 5.
X Deut. xxv., 4 ; 1 Cor. ix., 9. § Luke iii., 17.
|| See, for description of the ancient vineyard, Isaiah v., 1-6.

A.D. I.J AGRICULTURE. 63
ism, was pursued in Palestine under circumstances scarcely
more favorable than those which existed in East Tennessee
during the late Civil War.
Such, briefly etched, was the civil and social condition of
the Jews at the time of Christ. A military despotism, that
cared nothing for the people except to gather from their hard-
earned pittance all that rapacity could extort, subjected them
' to a most corrupt, oppressive, and nefarious taxation. Courts
of justice existed only in name ; the military rulers, who oc
cupied every considerable town, were in fact the supreme
judges of the land. Robbery and violence were the common
curse of the entire country, and compelled the people to dwell
in towns and travel in companies for protection. The houses,
in the case of the peasants, were wretched one-roomed huts
of mud ; in the case of the wealthiest, were barren of the
simplest necessities of modern life, though ornate with lux
ury. The table was bare of modern delicacies ; but the dress
outrivaled ours, if not in taste, at least in showy ornaments.
An almost roadless country confined the people to their
houses, or left them to make their journeys chiefly upon foot ;
and a territory cut off from other lands, excluding the people
from commerce, and all but the simplest domestic manufac
tures, made them almost of necessity a nation of farmers and
gardeners, as a little later their dispersion through the world
drove them from the farm to the peddler's pack, and later to
the shop. Such,. in brief outline, was the condition of the
Jewish people when the story of Christ's life opens ; a nation
with some forms of luxury, but without the arts and sciences
of civilization ; with the ritual of an ancient religion, but
without the spirit of a true one ; with the ruins of a once
noble republic, but without that life of liberty which alone
makes the true state.

64 BIRTH AND EDUCATION OF JESUS. [Chap. V.

CHAPTER V.
THE BIRTH AND EDUCATION OF JESUS.*
BOUT five miles south of Jerusalem lies the lit
tle village of Bethlehem. It is one of the oldest

towns of Palestine, and one of the most noted.
Near it is the tomb where Jacob buried his
much-loved Rachel.f In the valleys which it
overlooks was the field of Boaz, where Ruth gleaned for
grain and harvested a husband.J Within its precincts, Da
vid, her great - grandson, was born ; here he was anointed
king ;§ and in the neighboring fields, where a thousand years
later the birth of the Son of David was announced to the
watching shepherds, he watched his father's flocks. Here,
in his after history, his three officers broke through the Phil
istine host to bring their king water from the well of his
childhood. || And hither, in the fourth century after Christ,
Jerome, fleeing from persecution, lived for a quarter of a cen
tury, engaged in his great work, the composition of the Latin
translation of the Scriptures, the accepted version of the Ro
man Catholic Church. T
In this little hamlet, for the village was an inconsiderable
one, Jesus was born. The day of his birth is unknown. The
Christmas, which by common consent is celebrated through
out Christendom as his birthday, was fixed upon by Pope
Julius I. in the fourth century.** Even the year is involved
in uncertainty. We know, however, that Caesar Augustus
* Luke i., 26-56 ; ii. ; Matt, i., 18-25 ; ii., 1-23.
t Gen. xxxv., 19. J Ruth i., 19. § I Sam. xvi. , 1-13.
|| 2 Sam. xxiii., 15-17.
If Smith's Diet, of the Bible, art. Vulgate ; Diet, of Gr. and Roman Biog.,
art. Hieronymus. ** Appleton's Cyc, art. Christmas.

THE NATIVITY.

A.D. l.J CHARACTERISTICS OF HIS MOTHER. 67
was emperor of Rome,* and that Herod was drawing toward
the close of his reign as king of Judea.f Of his mother we
know but little. She was of the tribe of Judah, belonged to
a royal family, traced her genealogy back to David,J and was
connected by marriage with one of the chief priests. § She
was a woman of warm heart, ardent impulses, and resolute
will. This much the brief sketches of her life and character
disclose. At the time of the annunciation, she started, with
impetuous haste and unattended, for a journey across the
country from Galilee to Judea to visit her cousin Elizabeth,|
no slight undertaking in those days. Later, dreading lest in
her son's religious zeal he should destroy himself, with the en
thusiasm of an invincible love she undertook to pass through
the crowd, and, with loving compulsion, bring him home to
the rest which her mother-heart saw he so greatly needed. f
Finally, standing with pierced and broken heart the resolute
witness of his sufferings and death upon the cross, she looked
on, a patient sufferer with him to the last.** She was a de
vout, God-fearing woman,ff free from the ceremonial degen
eracy of her times, possessed a good religious education, was
more familiar with Scripture than with rabbinical lore, was
of thoughtful disposition,JJ and possessed in a devout, emo
tional imagination the characteristics of an ancient prophet
ess. The thanksgiving psalm which she composed, at the
time when the angel announced to her the anticipated birth
of Jesus, reminds us strongly of the ancient odes which
* Lukeii.,1. t Matt, ii., 1.
X Luke i., 27 ; Rom. i., 3. Two genealogies of Christ, quite different, are
given — one by Matthew, the other by Luke. Two explanations of this variance
are afforded — one, that Luke gives the genealogy through Mary, and Matthew
through Joseph (Kitto's Daily Bible Illustr., Life of our Lord, 28th week) ;
the other, now generally accepted hy Biblical scholars, that Luke gives the
natural descent, and Matthew the regal succession. — (Ellicott's Life of our
Lord, page 99, note.) A careful comparison of these genealogies, however,
leads to the conclusion, whichever theory is adopted, that both Joseph and
Mary were of the house and lineage of David, and probably cousins. — See
Smith's Bible Diet., art. Genealogy of Jesus Christ.
§ Luke i., 5, 36. || Luke i., 39. t Mark iii., 21-31 .
** John xix., 25. tt Luke i., 38. XX Luke ii. , 19, 51.

68 BIRTH AND EDUCATION OF JESUS, [Chap. V.
Aaron's sister, Miriam, wrote when Israel had crossed the
Red Sea, and Samuel's mother, Hannah, uttered when her
child was consecrated to the service of God.*
Of his reputed father, Joseph, we know even less. He ber
longed to the poorest of the loeasantry.f He was a carpen
ter by trade, an avocation which included house-building and
carving. His little shop was in the village of Nazareth.
He, too, claimed royal blood, but manifested no such royal
characteristics as did his wife. A simple peasant he seems
to have been, an upright man,J obedient alway to the divine
command, § but somewhat timid withal,|| and of no great in
fluence in his little community, f He died, apparently, before
Jesus became of age, and, as we know but little of him, so
with him our history has but little do.
We have called him Christ's reputed father; for Jesus al
ways claimed to be the Son of God, and finally died in attest
ation of that claim.** Its significance is interpreted to us by
the annunciation which heralded his advent. For when to
the yet Virgin Mary an angelic messenger announced the son
to whom she should give birth, perplexed, she asked the ques-
tion, " How shall this be, seeing I know not a man ?" and re
ceived the answer, " The Holy Ghost shall come upon thee,
and the power of the Highest shall overshadow thee ; there
fore also that holy thing which shall be born of thee shall be
called the Son of God."ff We accept, undoubting, the verity
of this narrative, and reverently recognize the mystery of his
birth who is the only-begotten Son of the Infinite Father.
He was born, we have said, in Bethlehem, though his pa-
* An analysis of this hymn (Luke i., 46-55) shows in its author an appre
ciative acquaintance with the poetry of the Old Testament.
t Luke ii., 24. Only the poorest offered doves or pigeons.— See Towns-
end's note, in he. j Matt. i. 19.
§ Matt, i., 24 ; ii., 14, 21. || Matt, ii., 22. If John vi'., 42.
**-Matt. xxvi., 63-65. See account of Jesus's trial in the chapter entitled
"The Court of Caiaphas," and a restatement of the claims which he preferred
concerning himself in that entitled "Guilty or not Guilty."
ft Lukei., 30-35.

AD. l.J CIRCUMSTANCES OF HIS BIRTH. 69
rents were Galileans. Caesar Augustus had ordered a census*
to be taken, whether of the empire, or only of Palestine, is
perhaps uncertain. f In compliance with the Jewish custom,
each family went up to its own city to be enrolled ;| for this
purpose, Joseph and Mary, of the house and lineage of David,
went up to David's city. The little inn§ was crowded ; there
was no room for them there ; they were compelled to seek
refuge in a stable. The limestone hills of Southern Judea
abound with caves, which are often used for this purpose.
The one in which tradition asserts that Jesus was born is still
shown the traveler by the reverential monks.
Simple as was the birth of him whose advent was to revo
lutionize the world, it was attended with some singular and
significant events, which have ever since surrounded.it with
a peculiar romantic interest. The imaginary portraits of the
Infant and his mother have been a favorite theme of the art
ist from the earliest ages of the Church. The account of the
shepherds watching their flocks by night, and startled by the
angelic announcement of the Messiah's birth ; of the devout
Simeon and Anna in the Temple, recognizing in the child the
promised hope of Israel; of the wise men of the East follow
ing the star, and offering to the child Jesus their treasures
brought from afar, have become familiarized to every child
by many a sermon, song, and story. One of these incidents,
however, deserves special mention here, both because of its
inherent significance and its influence on the life of Jesus.
Not only by the_Jews, by^the whole wqrld^J^jsiah^ was
expected. Mankind not only sadly needed, but. sorrowfully
XT _ ,  „, n,  ...^»«..— - .^.^. .«/- -  *!'¦ ¦;;.-<">  -t '^*^'-*A-VwC-'*5^*ii',V-x«KX*Wi^v>_iLJ.
waited a new revelation. The people believed all religions

* Not a taxation as in our English version (Luke ii., 1), but a preparatory
enrollment.— Alford, in he. Smith's Bible Diet., art. Taxing.
t Kitto's Bible Illustr., Life of our Lord, 28th week.
X The interpretation that they went to be enrolled, and that the taxation
was not completed till later, during the governorship of Cyrenius, seems the
best explanation, because the simplest of the chronological puzzle involved
in Luke ii., 1, 2. For the theory of two enrollments, see Alford, in he.
§ For description of an Oriental inn, see chapter iv.

70 BIRTH AND EDUCATION OF JESUS. [Chap. V.
to be equally true ; the philosophers esteemed them all equal
ly false. Humanity confessed itself ignorant of its God and
of its future. The poetic fictions of Hades and Elysium no
longer satisfied the reason or touched the imagination. " Is
there any old woman," cried Cicero, " silly enough still to fear
the monsters of hell ?" In God none longer hoped. For ages
in the Egyptian Temple the inscription had been read, " I am
she that was, and is, and shall be, and no one has ever drawn
aside my veil." For years the Athenians had worshiped at
the altar of an unknown god ; and no wonder, since the known
, gods were despicable. They were no longer the subjects of
even a superstitious reverence. The oracles were silent. The
temples were desecrated by vices which were banished from
society. Plato forbade intemperance except in the feast of
Bacchus. Aristotle permitted lewd images only of the gods.
The Babylonians compelled every native female to attend the
Temple of Venus once in her life, and prostitute herself in
honor of the goddess. " It is difficult," says Pliny, " to say
whether it might not be better for men to have no religion
than to have such a one as ours."*
Perhaps this universal discontent had begotten a hope of
relief Perhaps the mysterious promise made to Adam in
the garden — the seed of the woman shall bruise the serpent's
headf — had repeated itself vaguely in the expectancy of man
kind. Perhaps the echoes of the Jewish prophetic writings
had been indistinctly caught up by other nations amongst
whom the Jewish people had been dispersed. Certain it is
that more or less definitely this expectation had found ex
pression. Socrates in his last hours had commended his dis
ciples to search the world for a charmer able to redeem from
fear of death. J Confucius had prophesied the appearance of
a sage in the West whose coming should revolutionize the
* See, for an account of the religious condition of the world prior to the
time of Christ, Pressense's Religions before Christ, especially p. 167-175.
t Genesis iii., 15.
X The Phiedo, Bohn's edition, p. 80. See a beautiful poem of Mrs. H. B.
Stowe, of which this incident is the text. — Religious Poems, p. 6.

A.D. 1.] VISIT OF THE MAGI. 71
world; and a deputation sent forth from China to learn of
him, brought back with them the reformed religion, but heart
less philosophy of Buddha. " Among many," writes Tacitus,
" there was a persuasion that in the ancient books of the
priesthood it was written that at this precise time the East
should become mighty, and that the sovereigns of the world
should issue from Judea."* "In the East," writes Suetonius,
" an ancient and consistent opinion prevailed that it was fated
there should issue at this time from Judea those who should
obtain universal dominion."f Among these prophecies of the
" coming man," none was so clear and definite as that of
Zoroaster, the founder of the Persian religion. He had fore
told the coming of a prophet who should be begotten in a
supernatural way ; should bring a new revelation to a wait
ing world ; should conquer Ahriman, the spirit of evil ; should
found a kingdom of righteousness and peace. Later tradi
tions, borrowed, perhaps, from the Jews during their captiv
ity, led his disciples to expect that he would come of the
seed of Abraham.^ These disciples were careful students of
the stars. The heavenly bodies were accepted by them as
symbols and manifestations of the deity. Astrology was
thus at once the foundation of knowledge and of worship.
Science and religion were one. The priests were savants..
The stars were the subjects of their studies and their adora
tion ; they were believed to exercise an important influence
on the destinies of mankind ; a comprehension of their move
ments was believed to afford valuable information concern
ing the future. To placate the baneful star, to adore the
beneficent one, was in large measure the object of their
worship. §
In their nightly studies, these priests and philosophers of
the olden time were surprised by the sudden appearance of
* Tac, Hist., x., 13. t Suet. , Ves. , p. 4.
X Smith's Bible Diet., art Magi.
§ For an account of ancient astronomy, see M'Clintock and Strong's Bib.
Cyc, art. Astronomy. 4

72 BIRTH AND EDUCATION OF JESUS. [Chap. V.
a strangely brilliant star. It is historically certain that a re
markable conjunction of Jupiter and Saturn occurred at this
time. Possibly it was this that attracted their attention;
possibly a comet or a meteor, specially sent by God as the
herald of his Son.* Whatever it may have been, they rightly
interpreted it as a sign that the long-expected Deliverer had
come. A deputation of their number followed it westward.
It led them toward the kingdom of Judea ; then it seems to
have vanished from their sight. Uncertain which way to go,
they directed their steps to the capital. Here, in Jerusalem,
they thought to find an aroused and enthusiastic people pay
ing their homage to the new-born king. To their surprise,
no one had even heard of him. Their anxious inquiries came
to the jealous ears of Herod ; the Sanhedrim were assem
bled ; all Jerusalem was thrown into ferment. f The Scribes,
studying their ancient writings, counseled the wise men that
Bethlehem was the birthplace of the anticipated Messiah.
Directed, first by this prophecy, then by the star — which now
reappeared — they found, at length, the object of their search,
and offered to the infant Jesus their treasures of frankincense
and myrrh.
Significant as was this visit of the Magi as a fulfillment of
the prophecy, " Gentiles shall come to thy light, and kings to
* "In the year 747 of Rome, on the 20th of May, a conjunction of Jupiter
and Saturn occurred in that part of the heavens in which, according to as
trology, signs denoted the most notable events. It was repeated on the 27th
of October, and again on the 12th of November. The first of these conjunc
tions would rise, to the Abyssinian, in the East, 3J hours before sunrise.
The journey to Bethlehem would occupy about five months, and the Novem
ber conjunction would be before them, when at Jerusalem, in the direction of
Bethlehem. It was a tradition with the Jews that a similar conjunction of
Jupiter and Saturn preceded the birth of Moses, and there are indications
that not only the Jews, but also the Chaldeans, regarded such a conjunction
an indication of the near approach of the Messiah. " — Condensed from Alford's
note on Matt, ii., 2. This explanation is rejected by Ellicott (Life of our
Lord, p. 78, n.), who adopts the opinion that the star was a luminous body of
a meteoric nature, but subject to special laws regulating its appearance, and,
perhaps, also its motions.
t Matt, ii., 3. Literally, "was agitated."

A.D. 1.]

CHARACTER OF HEROD.

73

A**

THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM.

the brightness of thy rising,"* it was equally important in its
effect upon Jesus. Humanly speaking, it nearly cost him his
life. We have said that Herod was the King of the Jews. It
is perhaps doubtful whether a worse king ever sat on the
throne of a suffering people. He is fairly entitled to the cog
nomen of Great only by his pre-eminence in wickedness. His
whole career exhibits him as a cunning adventurer, an un
scrupulous self-seeker, and a relentless despot. He was made
governor of Galilee by his father at the early age of fifteen.
He demonstrated his energy and courage by his successful
campaign against the brigands who infested its northern
mountains. But this energy and courage was directed by
* Isaiah lx. , 3.

74 BIRTH AND EDUCATION OF JESUS. [Chap. V.
an ambition wholly selfish. Perceiving the growjng power
of Rome, he secured its favor by oppressive taxation, at the
cost of his own people. So effectually did he alienate their
affections, that, on their complaint, he was summoned to
trial before the Sanhedrim, and escaped the penalties justly
incurred by his oppressions only by flight. Nothing daunt
ed, he courted successfully the favor of the Roman rulers.
With the craftiness of a wily politician, studying the compli
cations at Rome which resulted in the establishment of the
Roman Empire, he succeeded in securing the favor and pat
ronage, in succession, of Cassius, of Antony, and of Cassar.
Upon the fall of his respective patrons, he transferred his al
legiance, with unblushing assurance, to their rivals and suc
cessors. Through Antony's influence he was proclaimed King
of Judea by the Roman Senate. Upon Antony's fall, Caesar
confirmed him in his position ; and, as he always rendered a
good revenue to his Roman masters, the just complaints of
his subjects were unavailing against him. A time-server at
home as well as abroad, all religions were equally accepted
by him as a means of securing popular favor. He rebuilt the
Temple at Jerusalem for the Jews ; he constructed another on
Mount Gerizim for the Samaritans ; he established a heathen
worship in Ceesarea for the Romans. He was alike regard
less of all considerations of justice, all obligations of relig
ion, and all claims of natural affection. His jealousy of real
or fancied rivals increased with his increasing power. He
formed a design of establishing on the Jewish throne a per
manent Herodian dynasty, and making of the Jewish nation
again an independent, though not a free people. Whatever,
to his suspicious nature, seemed to stand in the way of this
design, no scruple prevented him from removing, at what
ever cost. A terrible distemper, which finally brought his
wretched life to a yet more wretched end, increased toward
its close his unreasonable suspicions, and aggravated the as
perities of his temper. Every one seemed, to his jealous dis
position, to be conspiring against his throne. In succession,

A.D. 1-30.] MASSACRE OF THE INFANTS. 75
his wife's grandfather, his wife herself, and three of his own
sons, were slain by his command, sacrifices to his insane sus
picions.* Such a monarch could ill brook a rival king of the
Jews. The fact that the wise men of his own land agreed in
testifying that ancient prophecy foretold the birth of such a
prince and deliverer intensified his jealousy, and strength
ened his malign purpose. At first, with his customary craft,
he bade the Magi seek out the young Messiah, that he too
might worship him. That, when he found himself mocked
by them, his rage passed all bounds, is consonant with all we
know of his character. His cruel order for the massacre of
the infant children of Bethlehem is quite in keeping with the
cruelties of the age, the absolute authority he possessed, and
the other well-known facts of his career. It fulfilled the
prophecy of the Psalmist, " The kings of the earth set them
selves, and the rulers take counsel together against the Lord
and against his anointed."f His measures were as unsuccess
ful as they ' were monstrous. Jesus, escaping with his par
ents from Judea, remained, in Egypt till Herod's death, a few
months later. Then they returned by a wide detour to Jo
seph's home, Nazareth in Galilee. Here Joseph resumed his
handicraft after his long absence; and here Jesus spent his
childhood and youth, growing up in his parent's homeland
subject to their will.
Galilee is the New England of Palestine. The White
Mountains of the Holy LandJ tower up on its northern
boundary ten thousand feet above the level of the sea. The
snow never leaves their summit. The flowers never leave
their verdure-clad vales. "Lebanon carries," says an Arab
proverb, " winter on its head, spring on its shoulders, and
harvest in its bosom, while summer sleeps at its feet."§ Cool
breezes from these snow-clad peaks fan the country which
they overlook. The hill's are thickly wooded. Silvery streams
* For a fuller history of King Herod, see Josephus, Ant., bk. xiv. -xvii.
t Ps. ii., 2. X The meaning of the word Lebanon is white.
§ Henderson's Commentary on Isaiah x., 34.

76 BIRTH AND EDUCATION OF JESUS. [Chap. V.
water its verdant glades. Wild-flowers in abundance fill the
air with their fragrance. The walnut, palm, olive, and fig
cover its southern slopes. The dwarf oak, intermixed with
tangled shrubberies of hawthorn and arbutus, clothes its
northern hills. Fertile upland plains, green forest glades,
wild, picturesque glens, with the beautiful Lake Tiberias em
bosomed in the midst of romantic mountain scenery, combine
to render Galilee one of the richest and most beautiful sec
tions of Palestine, if not of the Oriental world. Its towns
and villages, once busy, though now deserted and in ruins,
formerly added the charm of industry and life.*
Among the most favored spots of this favored region is the
village of Nazareth. It reposes in the bosom of a beautiful
valley, secluded by surrounding hills, and filled with corn
fields, vineyards, and gardens. Sheltered from the bleaker
winds of the north, it luxuriates in the fragrant blossoms and
ripened fruits of the pomegranate," orange, fig, and olive. The
neighboring hill behind the town commands a magnificent
view of the surrounding country. From its summit Jesus
must often have looked upon Galilee spread out as a map be
neath his feet. On the north the snowy peak of Hermon lifts
itself up in clear relief against the background of the deep
blue sky. On the east, over the intervening hills, a glimpse
of the Lake Tiberias reveals itself. Close at hand was the
mountain where, later, he preached that ever-memorable dis
course known as the " Sermon on the Mount." Within the
range of his vision were Acre, famous in its after history for
its successful resistance to the protracted siege of Napoleon ;
Cana, where the water was made wine ; Nain, where the wid-
* On the whole, the best description I have seen of Galilee is that of Stan
ley (Sinai and Palestine, ch. x.). That of Eenan (Life of Jesus, ch. viii.) is
a glowing but fanciful picture ; that of Pressense (Life of Christ, bk. ii. , ch.
ii., p. 344), though more reliable, is still somewhat exaggerated. The same
thing may be said of Hepworth Dixon (Holy Land, ch. xviii.), whose* pictures
are too generally paintings, not photographs. Robinson's portraitures, always
reliable, are rarely warm. They are generally those of a statistician and ge
ographer. Robinson's Ees., vol. iii., § xiv., xv. Compare, also, Osborne's
Palestine, ch. xi.

A.D. 1-30.] NAZARETH. 77
ow's son was raised ; Endor, where the witch appeared to
Saul; Jezreel, the royal residence of the infamous Ahab. Be
fore him nestled his own beautiful village of Nazareth, while
beyond it Mount Carmel, the retreat of the ancient prophet
Elijah, jutted out into the Mediterranean, the blue of whose
waters, sparkling in the sun, was just discernible in the far
northwest.* Amid these romantic mountains and fertile vales Jesus
spent his boyhood. Here he often wandered, picking the
wild flowers, gratifying that love of nature which so charac
terized his after life and teachings. Into the mountain sol
itudes with which this rural region abounds he loved to re
treat from the distasteful crowd and bustle of the great cities.
Here he commenced his ministry. Here he wrought most of
his miracles. First in the synagogue, and then in the valleys
and on the hill-sides of Galilee, he preached most of the dis
courses which have been preserved and handed down to us.
From the simple fishermen who lived and labored on the
shore of Lake Tiberias he selected most of his companions
and apostles. Among these mountains he organized his little
Church, and sent his followers forth to preach " the kingdom
of heaven is at hand." And at the setting of the sun, in the
quiet wooded glades of Galilee, rather than in the synagogue
and the Temple, he sought that solitude for which his heart
yearned, that he might commune with his Father and his God.
The influences which surrounded Christ in his childhood
certainly could have contributed but little to the greatness
of his ripened character. The inhabitants of Galilee were a
simple humble peasantry, industrious, but plain ; unpretend
ing in their appearance, untutored in their habits. Their
pursuits and modes of life were very simple. They caught
fish on the lakes ; they reared flocks and herds on the mount
ain sides ; they cultivated corn and olives in the valleys and
on the slopes of the hills, f They had little wealth. They
* For a description of this view, see Robinson's Res., vol. iii., § xiv., p.
189. t See Memoirs of the Holy Land, Harper's Mag., vol. vi. , p. 289.

78 BIRTH AND EDUCATION OF JESUS. [Chap. V.
had not the culture and refinement which belonged to the
richer and more luxurious inhabitants of Judea. Twenty of
their chief cities had been given by Solomon to Hiram, king
of Tyre * and their inhabitants, intermarried with other races,
no longer preserved a pure Jewish blood. Their religion
was perhaps as pure, but it was far more simple. The elab
orate ceremonialism of the later Pharisees had never taken
strong hold among them. Their very speech was provincial.f
The haughty aristocrats of Southern Palestine despised this
peasantry. They scorned their poverty; their simplicity;
their corrupted blood ; their seeming irreligion. That Jesus
was a Galilean was in their eyes a sufficient and conclusive
condemnation of his claim to be the Messiah of the nation;
while, for some reason unknown, Nazareth possessed through
out the country a particularly evil reputation. " Can any
good come out of Nazareth ?" was a proverb not only in Ju
dea, but accepted apparently even in Galilee itself.J
Jesus's education, whether at home or at school, was of the
simplest kind. Many years before, Samuel had established
the first seats of learning, the schools of the prophets. The
ruins of these institutions still remained, in which the degen
erate scribes were taught the theological dialectics of the
time, and so, in the popular imagination, were prepared for
the ministry of the Word. From them proceeded those tra
ditions and ceremonial refinements against which Christ later
brought the whole influence of his life and teaching to bear.§
These schools were mostly at Jerusalem. It is not certain
that there were any in Galilee. It is certain Christ never at
tended them. || He never sympathized with the ritualism
which they inculcated ; and his parents possessed neither the
means to give him an elaborate education, nor the learning
which they could impart themselves.
But, in addition to these higher seminaries, there was a
* 1 Kings ix. , 1 1 . f Matt. xxvi. , 73. X John i. , 46.
§ Stanley's Jew. Church, i., 442. Smith's Bib. Diet., art: Education, 493.
|| John vii., 15.

A.D. 1-30.] JEWISH SCHOOLS.

79

parochial school in every village. Common-school education
we have borrowed from Judaism, though we have improved
the pattern. A far larger proportion of the people could read
and write in Palestine in the days of Christ than, in England
in the days of Henry the Eighth. The unlearned fishermen
by the Sea of Galilee were not absolutely illiterate. Few
were the Jews who could not read their own Scriptures. In
every synagogue was established an elementary school. Here
a Rabbi gathered the children of the village, taught them to
read and cipher, instructed them in their own national history
and in the requirements of the law, catechized them in the
Jewish Scriptures, afforded them some knowledge of the later
commentaries which the scribes had founded thereon, and oc
casionally added some little instruction on such natural his
tory and physical science as the imperfect knowledge of the
' day afforded.*
This parish pedagogue gave Christ his only schooling. Of
Greek, Roman, and Oriental literature and philosophy he ac
quired no knowledge by any ordinary method of study. His
mother, a devout and godly woman, taught him the Jewish
Scriptures at home. The Jewish law required every parent
to teach his children some trade. In compliance with this
law, Jesus worked at his father's bench, learning his handi
craft. He went with his parents to the village synagogue,
where he would hear every Sabbath the law and the prophets
read. Perhaps he would hear, too, some scribe expound them,
not developing and applying their prophecies and sublime
principles, but concealing them by puerile discussions con
cerning idle ceremonies and human traditions. Occasionally
he went up with his parents to the Temple at Jerusalem on
the Jewish feast-day ; but this brief journey of sixty or sev
enty miles was the utmost extent of his travels.
One such visit is the only incident of his youth of which;
* For an account of the educational facilities of Christ's day, see Kitto's
Life of our Lord, p. 167; Kitto's Bib. Cyc, art. Schools; and Conybeare
and Howson's Life and Epistles of St. Paul, vol. i. , p. 60-62.
4*

80 BIRTH AND EDUCATION OF JESUS. [Chap. V.
we have any authentic record. In connection with the Tem
ple were rooms which were used by the Rabbis for higher
seminaries of learning. Here they were accustomed to gather,
and discuss the more difficult problems of their theological
science. Jesus, though but twelve years of age, found the
chief attractions of the Temple here. The magnificent courts,
the imposing ritual, the solemn sacrificial service, the grand
chorals from the trained choirs and accompanying orchestra,
had for him no such fascination as these schools, where he
might learn more fully the meaning of that law whose true
meaning his village Rabbi was utterly unable to unfold to
him. Leaving the crowded courts and the solemn festal serv
ice, he wandered off hi search of these Temple schools, and
here he was found after the feast was over and the people
had dispersed, sitting in the midst of the doctors, listening to
their exposition, and eagerly inquiring for some deeper and
more spiritual truth than with all their learning they were
able to afford him. They were astonished at the precocity
of his understanding; and, if we may form any judgment of
the catechizing he gave them from his later questioning, were
no less puzzled than surprised.*
This little incident, which impressed itself strongly upon
his mother's mind, gives us glimpse enough of his childhood
to know that it was no ordinary one. He certainly had an
eager appetite for religious truth. He exhibited, though in
a vague and shadowy way, some consciousness of his charac
ter and his mission. f Increasingly he displayed that uncon
scious and natural grace in heart and in demeanor which in
his ministry aided in drawing such crowds to listen to his
word's. J While untaught, save by his Father, God, through
the lessons of nature and the inspirations of the Divine Spirit,
he grew in stature, and in knowledge, and in favor with God
and with man.
* Luke ii., 41-47. t Ibid., 49. J Ibid., 52.

A.D. 30.]

THE PROPHETIC ORDER.

81

CHAPTER VI.
THE VOICE IN THE WILDERNESS.*
|HRIST was thirty years of age before he entered
upon his public ministry. The universal expecta
tion of a prince who should re-establish the throne
of David and reinstate the ruined kingdom of Is
rael was then intensified by the appearance of a
preacher of singular character and great power, who an
nounced, with seeming authority, " The kingdom of heaven is
at hand." To understand the true character and career of
Jesus, we must interrogate a little the herald who preceded
him and proclaimed his coming.
A peculiar characteristic of the ancient Jewish Church was
the prophets. Beginning with Moses,f and appearing singly
in certain epochs of subsequent history, they were first organ
ized as an order under Samuel, during the reigns of Saul and
David. J Schools for their education were established by
him.§ They became a numerous and influential class.
In the darkest days of the Church, Obadiah hid a hundred
of them in a single cave. || In the reign of Jehoshaphat four
hundred were gatheredby the king for counsel. % They were
the preachers, the poets, and the political teachers and coun
selors of Palestine. They were subject to no ecclesiastical
superior, and were bound by no rules of discipline, and by no
other creed than faith in God and acceptance of his Word.
* Matt, iii., 1-17; Mark i., 1-11; Luke iii., 1-23; John i. , 1 5-34.
t Deut. xiii., 1-5 ; xviii., 15-22. J 1 Chron. ix., 22 ; xxi., 9 ; xxv.
§ 1 Sam. xix., 20. Compare 2 Kings ii., 3, 5 ; iv., 38 ; vi., 1 .
|| 1 Kings xviii., 4. f Ibid., xxii., 6.

82

THE VOICE IN THE WILDERNESS. [Chap. VI.

THE JORDAN.

They were set apart to their office by no public ordination.*
Whoever felt his soul burdened with a message of truth was
ordained thereby to proclaim it. They were taken from ev-
* The only case of ordination mentioned is that in 1 Kings xix., 16.

AD. 1-30.] CHARACTERISTICS OF THE PROPHETS. 83
ery tribe and every occupation. Women occasionally, though
exceptionally, filled the sacred offica Miriam,* Deborah,f
Huldah,J were among the prophets — the latter apparently at
the head of the prophetic school in Jerusalem, and recognized
by the court as the chief theologian of her time. David and
Saul were prophet kings ; Amos was a herdsman ;§ Elijah, a
Bedouin wanderer ;|| Elisha was called from the plow ;f Isaiah
and Jeremiah were, perhaps, children of prophets.** These
preachers had neither church, pulpit, or salary; they gather
ed their congregations wherever they could find them — in the
street, the field, the highways. They depended on the hospi
tality of the pious for their support.ff They wore a simple
dress of sheepskin ;JJ lived plainly ; abstained from wine ;§§
dwelt sometimes in Jerusalem in chambers of the Temple,|||
sometimes in the country in rude huts of their own construc
tion.1^" f They generally lived in companies of from twenty to
thirty, and traveled through the country, couching their in
struction in the form of poems, which they chanted to simple
music, accompanying themselves on the rude instruments of
their age.*** A few more leading spirits lived alone, either in
the cities, as Isaiah and Jeremiah, or in the wilderness, as
Elijah, preaching the truth, still generally in poetic forms,
though not with musical accompaniment. While there were
false prophets and time-servers among them, those whose ad
dresses have been preserved were bold, courageous, heroic,
patriotic, devout men,, fearing God, and therefore not fearing
men ; denouncing alike the sins of the court,fff the corrup-
* Exod. xv., 20. . tJudg. iv.,4.
X 2 Kings xxii., 14. § Amos i., 1.
|| 1 Kings xvii., 1, and commentary on the statement there made that ha
was of Gilead, in Smith's Bible Diet., art. Elijah. 1 1 Kings xix., 19-21.
** Isa. I., 1 ; Jer. i., 1 ; Smith's Bible Diet., art. Isaiah and Jeremiah.
tt 1 Kings xvii., 8-16; 2 Kings iv. , 8-10.* XX Zech. xiii., 4; 2 Kings i., 8.
§§ 2 Kings iv., 38 ; Dan. i., 8, 12-16. |||| Jer. xxxv., 4..
112 Kings vi. ,1-5. *** 1 Sam. , x. , 5.
ttt 1 Kings xviii., 18; 2 Sam. xii., 1-12.* The books of the prophets
are full of the boldest denunciations of the court, as Isa. x., 1-4; Jer.
xxii., 1-9.

84 THE VOICE IN THE WILDERNESS. [Chap. VI.
tions of the Church,* and the vices of the people, f The most
frequent subject of their denunciations was a cold and heart
less ceremonialism. The most popular theme of their dis
courses was the spirituality of true religion. " What doth
the Lord require of thee but to do justly, and to love mercy,
and to walk humbly with thy God." This was the essence of
their teaching. J
Such a class could only live in the air of freedom. The de
struction of the Jewish independence by the subjugation of
the nation under Nebuchadnezzar resulted in the practical
destruction of the prophetic order. A few, indeed, surviving
that disaster, kept alive the faith and hope of the people dur
ing the captivity. The restoration of the state appeared at
first to promise the restoration of the Church, with all its
functions. But; little by little, the lustre of the ancient
prophets dimmed ; their voice ceased to echo among the hills
of Palestine. Scribes, who united with the priestly party in
the endeavor to substitute a religion of ritualism for one of
practical godliness, gradually took their place. The manu
scripts of some of the more prominent of the prophets were
preserved, and read every Sabbath in the public service of
the synagogue, but by men who did not appreciate their spir
it, and could not, therefore, impart it to others. The reminis
cence of this ancient order lingered only as a tradition of the
ancient glory of the nation. The sudden reappearance, there
fore, of a prophet startled all Palestine.
His birth, like that of Jesus, whose second cousin he was,
was preceded by singular and supernatural indications of his
future character and mission. He was consecrated from his
infancy to the life of a Nazarite,§ the hermit of ancient Juda-
* Mal. i., 6-8. f Isa. v., 8-25.
X 1 Sam. xv., 22 ; Ps. li., 16, 17 ; Hosea vi., 6 ; Amos v., 21-24 ; Micah
vi., 6-8 ; Isa. i., 14-17; lviii., 6 ; Ezek. xviii., 5-9, 20-28.
The reader who is familiar with Stanley's History of the Jewish Church
will hardly need to be told that this summary of the characteristics of the
prophetic order is taken largely from his xixth and xxth lectures.
§ Luke i., 15, and Rev. E. Hawkins thereon in Smith's Bible Diet., art.

A.D. 29.] BIRTH OF THE BAPTIST. 85
ism. Both his parents belonged to the priestly order, but
shared not the priestly vices.* He probably received from
them an education for the priesthood. In this case he was
taught the ancient Hebrew, and was thoroughly instructed
in all the details of the Jewish ceremonial law. But he never
performed priestly functions. At an early age, disgusted
with the political and religious degeneracy of his times, he
withdrew from Judea into the wilderness beyond Jordan.
Here he lived a solitary life of prayer, of study of the Scrip
ture, and of self-denial.f In this he was not alone. Others,
like him, had sought refuge from the corruptions of the age in
a hermit's life, and had gathered on the banks of the Jordan
a few disciples of a misanthropic asceticism.J But their ef
forts at reform had been transitory and. inefficacious.
From this seclusion John at length issued to proclaim to
the people the truths which he had made his own by a pray
erful study of the ancient prophets, whose successor he was.
His place and time were well chosen.
At a ford of the River Jordan, near its mouth, where the
highway from the neighboring city of Jerusalem crosses this
stream, he commenced his public ministry. The scene around
was admirably consonant with the stern and gloomy charac
ter of the prophet and his teachings. The limestone hills,
unsupplied with springs, lift up their barren and precipitous
sides in solemn but sterile grandeur. A thin and unfruitful
soil affords few fruits and but scanty pasturage. The Dead
Sea, whose briny waters entomb the once fertile plains of
Sodom and Gomorrah, afforded a significant type of the mor
al death of the once fair and prosperous Jewish nation, and
of the complete destruction so soon to overwhelm it. It was
the Sabbatic year.§ In accordance with the law of Moses,
the land lay fallow. Agriculture was for the time forbidden.
John the Baptist. For an account of the vows of a Nazarite, see Num
bers vi. * Luke 1., 5, 6. . t Luke i., 80.
X See, for example, Josephus, Life of, § 2.
§ Andrews's Life of our Lord, p. 139.

86 THE VOICE IN THE WILDERNESS. [Chap. VI.
Even spontaneous growths were left unreaped. The people,
relieved from their customary toils, were easily accessible to
religious instruction.*
The whole law of God was this year read to them in sol
emn assemblage. f Such occasions of rest were the prophet's
harvestings. Of such the Baptist availed himself!
Doubtless a general discontent and a general expectancy
of a coming deliverer prepared them for his message. Yet
no ordinary man could have produced the impression he pro
duced. He certainly was no ordinary man. His very ap
pearance compelled attention. He wore a simple dress wov
en of camel's hair. J It was gathered about his loins with a
leathern girdle. His food was as simple as his dress, and,
like it, marked the ascetic. He neither ate bread nor drank
wine. He lived on locusts and wild honey. The former, a
kind of grasshopper, cooked in various ways, forms to the
present day a staple article of food among the poorer peas
antry. The latter is found in such abundance in the trunks
of trees and the crevices of the rocks, that, to the ancient Is
raelite, the land was described as one flowing with honey.
His hair was uncut, his beard untrimmed, his manners those
of one little accustomed to the refinements of society.§
His preaching was as singular as his dress. He startled
the people by the boldness of his denunciations. But, like
his dress, it characterized the ascetic rather than the true re
former. He was strong, earnest, practical, but more power
ful in a fiery assault on wrong than in tender and winnino-
invitations to right. He aroused the conscience. He never
attempted to awaken the affections. Christ closed his indig
nant denunciations of the Pharisees with the most touching
and pathetic of appeals— " O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that
killest the prophets, and stonest them which are sent unto
* Exod. xxiii., 10, 11 ; Lev. xxv., 2-7; Deut. xv. + Deut. xxxi., 10-13.
t " The garment of camel's hair was not the camel's skin with the hair on,
which would be too heavy to wear, but raiment woven of camel's hair."  Al
ford on Matt, iii., 4. § Matt, iii., 4 ; Mark i., 6 ; and supra, p. 84, note §.

A.D: 29.] THE BAPTISTS PREACHING. 87
thee, how often would I have gathered thy children together,
even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and
ye would not !"* John the Baptist closed his similar scath
ing rebuke of the same party with solemn warning — " He will
burn up the chaff with unquenchable fire."f Yet, whether
we test his preaching by its character or its effects, it was
certainly remarkable. He scouted the idea that Jewish birth
gave favor with God.J He denounced with vehemence the
ceremonialism of the age. He demanded a pure morality as
the evidence of godliness.§ To the tax-gatherer he preached
integrity ; to the soldiers, abstinence from violence ; to all the
people, practical benevolence. || If he did not mix with .the
people, he understood their life, and preached to it. Crowds
flocked to hear him. All Judea felt the influence of his teach
ing. The people almost universally accepted him as a proph
et. Some thought him the Messiah. Many of the lower
classes were effectually reformed, ^f
Both Pharisees and Sadducees endeavored at first to secure
the prestige of his name by ranking themselves among his
disciples.** Even a deputation of priests and levites was
sent out by the Sanhedrim to obtain more accurate informa
tion as to his character and mission.ff
But the effect of his preaching, if powerful, was also tran
sient. The people, escaping from the magnetism of his pres
ence, forgot the convictions of conscience he had produced.JJ
The Pharisees, finding they could not use him, denied the au
thority of his mission, though they dared not deny his pro
phetic claim. He was not a builder, and, like all negative
reformers, his work lacked permanence. He saw clearly the
coming wrath of God,§§ but he knew not how to avert the
storm" which gathered darkly over his nation. He preached a
religion of rigid asceticism and of pure morality. He sought
* Matt, xxiii. ,37. t Matt, iii., 12. X Matt iii., 9.
§ Matt, iii., 7, 8. II Luke iii., 10-14.
1 Luke iii., 15 ; Matt, xxi., 32. ** Matt, iii., 7.
tt John i., 19; Ellicott, Life of Christ, p. 115.
XX See Luke vii., 32. §§ L«ke iii., 7.

88 THE VOICE IN THE WILDERNESS. [Chap, VI.
to reform the state by returning to a strict allegiance to the
principles of ancient Judaism. Jesus compared him to one
who endeavored to mend an old garment by patching it with
new cloth.* He did not perceive that the Mosaic institutions
had fulfilled their j>urpose, and that the world needed new
raiment. He prepared the way for the Gospel by uncon
sciously demonstrating the inefficacy of the law.
Standing aloof from the elaborate ritualism of his day, he
employed one single and simple ceremony, which the Chris
tian Church, borrowing from him, has continued to the pres
ent time. Those that signified their sorrow for sin and their
purpose of reformation, he baptized in the River Jordan.
Whether he dipped them in the water, or, descending, with
them into the stream, poured it upon their head, is a question
which to the present day divides the most learned scholars
of the Church into two theological parties.
Whichever form he used, the signification was the same —
purification from the past, and consecration of the life for
the future. This symbol was already in universal use in Ori
ental countries. Ablution was customary not only in Pales
tine, but in Egypt,' Greece, and Rome, as a preparation for
prayer, and a token of expiation for sin. But it possessed a
peculiar significance in Palestine, where every Gentile who
entered the Jewish Church was baptized as a sign that he
was washed of his past sins and errors, and entered, cleansed,
a new life. John did not, therefore, invent the rite which has'
given him his name of the Baptist. He only employed it.
And Christ, finding it already thus employed, and its signifi
cance understood, adopted it as the symbol of separation
from the world and consecration unto him.
But first he signalized his adoption of the rite by being
himself baptized.
It was winter. The early wheat was just beginning to
clothe the earth with green when rumors of John's preaching
reached the ears of Jesus in Nazareth. f He accepted the
* Matt, ix., 14-17. t Ellicott's Life of Christ, p. 107, note 2.

A.D. 30.] THE BAPTISM OF JESUS. 89
fact as a sign that the time for his public ministry had come.
He joined himself to the people that were already flocking
in crowds to the River Jordan. He listened, unnoticed and
unknown, to the preaching of his herald. He presented him
self, one with the multitude, to be baptized by him.* But
John recognized at once his cousin. Doubtless they had
known each other in their youth ; and though he knew not
till later Jesus's sacred character and mission, he had already
perceived his spiritual superiority. He objected to perform
a rite which seemed to imply that he was himself in some
way Jesus's superior. Reluctantly, and only after much per
suasion, did he yield. The representative of the Old World,
and the type and creator of the New, entered together the
water. The people, impressed with a singular solemnity,
watched this most sacred baptismal service of all time ; while
in the dove alighting on the head, and the voice from heaven
proclaiming Jesus the divine Messiah, were visible and aud
ible indications of the significance of the service.f
Why, indeed, one who confessed no sin, and therefore need
ed no repentance, should receive the baptism of repentance,
has been a sore perplexity to many. It was to John. Jesus
has himself solved the problem. He came to preach as the
summation of all duty, "Follow thou me." Therefore it be
came him to submit to whatever ceremonies were proper and
significant in the case of sinful humanity, and thus to fulfill
all righteousness.
But in this significant act we recognize more than an ex
ample ; we perceive a sublime symbol. In Jesus Christ the
human race received its baptism. It laid off old faiths. It
was introduced into a new life. In the sacred waters which
had cleansed Naaman of his leprosy, humanity buried its
dead past, and rose a new creature in Christ Jesus. Old
things passed then forever away. Henceforth all things
were to be new.
* Luke iii., 21.
t Matt, iii., 13-17 ; Mark i., 9-11 ; Luke iii., 21-22.

90 THE VOICE IN THE WILDERNESS. [Chap. VI,
The possible effect of John the Baptist's preaching on Je
sus has been the subject of some bold surmises.* The effect
of Jesus on John the Baptist's preaching is far more remark
able, though it has been less remarked. Before the baptism
John denounced the vices of the people, and warned them of
the judgments of God. " Every tree that bringeth not forth
good fruit is hewn down and cast into the fire." This was
the spirit of his preaching. But when an alarmed j>eople
cried out to him, " What shall we do, then ?" he could only re
ply, " He that hath two coats, let him impart to him that hath
none." For the tremendous woe of sin he had no remedy to
offer but the recommendation of an external reformation and
a practical morality. But after Christ's baptism his preach
ing underwent a radical change, f He no longer denounced
the vices of the people ; he no longer warned of the wrath to
come ; he no longer addressed himself chiefly to fear and to
conscience. He ceased to be a preacher of the law ; he be
came a prophet of the Gospel. The Messiah, whom he had
vaguely foretold, he pointed out in Jesus. The kingdom of
grace, which was to be, he contrasted with the kingdom of
law that had been.
Two of his testimonies concerning Jesus are especially sig
nificant. The first is his assertion of Christ's character. "I
saw, and bore record, that this is the Son of God. "J This
declaration, which he often repeated, is capable of but one
signification. It can bear no other interpretation than that
which is afforded by the ancient prophets, who had declared
that the Messiah should be " God with us ;§ the Lord our
righteousness ;|| the mighty God, the everlasting Father."1!
His declaration concerning Christ's mission is not less sig-
* See, for example, Renan's Life of Jesus, ch. v. and vi., p. 125, 126, 130-
132 ; Schenckel's Character of Jesus, sec. ii., chap, iii., p. 69, and Furness's
note thereon.
t Luke gives us a report of his preaching before the baptism (iii., 1-18);
John after the baptism (i. , 1 5-36). A comparison of these accounts shows
a remarkable contrast. J John i. , 34. § Isa. vii., 14; Matt, i., 23.
|| Jer. xxiii., 6. 1 Isa. ix., 6.

A.D. 30.] THE SCAPE-GOAT. 91
nificant. " Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the
sin of the world."* This was a favorite metaphor with him.
To understand it, we must remember that the whole Jewish
worship was sacrificial. Every act of adoration, of thanks
giving, of confession, was expressed by a sacrifice. . The lamb
slain on the altar thus became the type of worship in the Jew
ish mind, the method of approach to God.f
But more than that. There was in the Jewish calendar
one great national fast-day. It was called the Day of Atone
ment. On that day expiation was made for the sins of the
nation. Two lambs or goats were selected, as near alike in
size, form, and color as possible ; they were brought to the
Temple ; the priest chose by lot between them ; one of these
was sacrificed upon the altar ; upon the other was bound a
piece of scarlet cloth, typical of the sins of the people. This
goat was then led off into the wilderness, where he was set
free, and seen no more. The significance of the whole serv
ice was unmistakable. By the death of the sacrifice the sins
of the people were borne away and lost to sight forever ;
and since one lamb could not both carry them away and
be slain on the altar, two were taken to typify the one
truth.! It is scarcely possible but that this symbolical service was
in the mind both of the preacher and the people when he Ut
tered the sermon whose substance has been condensed into a
single significant sentence. It was probably preached in the
fall, and about the time of the Day of Atonement. " God,"
said he, " has provided a Lamb. By the sacrifice of his only-
begotten Son God will fulfill the prophecies of the Temple
?John i., 29, 36.
t The explanation of John's declaration offered by the author of Ecce Homo
(p. 1 2), who refers it chiefly to the quiet and peaceful disposition of Jesus,
while it might serve to interpret the first part of the sentence, ' ' Behold the
Lamb of God," certainly does not adequately interpret the rest, " which tak
eth away the sins of the world."
X For an account of this service, see Lev. xvi. For an able tracing of its
typical meaning, see Bonar's commentary thereon ; also Smith's Bib. Die,
and M'Clintock and Strong's Bib. Cyc, art. Atonement, Day of.

92

THE VOICE IN THE WILDERNESS. [Chap. VI.

service. Upon him he will lay the iniquities of us all, and
they will be borne away and felt no more."
John does not seem, however, to have preached these ser
mons until after Christ's return from the temptation in the
wilderness. To the record of that singular, and, in some re
spects, inexplicable experience, we now turn.

W/, - -- 1—

Jan., A.D. 31.] MYSTERY OF THE SUBJECT. 93

CHAPTER VH
THE TEMPTATION.
JN attempting to form a conception of Christ's experi
ence of temptation in the wilderness, so graphically
but dramatically described by the evangelists, we are
met at the outset by an almost insuperable difficulty.
It is impossible for us to conceive of God as tempted
with evil — of the Infinite as struggling with the powers of
darkness. We can portray to our own thoughts the tempta
tion of Jesus only as a human experience. But this is only
part of the greater mystery of the Incarnation. The whole
life of Christ is intensely and characteristically human ; and
this attests its verity. No imaginary conception of an incar
nate Son of God would have presented him as hungering, suf
fering, weeping, struggling with temptation — finally dying.
Yet so the Gospels depict him. The humiliation of Jesus is
his glory. Nor do we fully conceive that humiliation until
we comprehend that he not only took upon him the external
conditions of humanity, but entered into experiences of heart-
conflict only to be interpreted to us by our own. In endeav
oring, then, to conceive Of this mysterious struggle, let us
frankly confess our inability to fathom the deeper secrets of
Christ's divine nature, and content ourselves with depicting
his experience as .that of one who was tempted in all points
like as we are, save without sin.
Jesus, then, had long pondered upon the wretched condi
tion, not only of his nation, but of the whole world. Heavier
and heavier its woes had pressed upon his heart. The soli
tudes of Galilee had afforded him time for thought. His oc
casional visits to Jerusalem had afforded him food for thought.
* Matt, iv., 1-11 ; Mark i., 12, 13 ; Luke iv., 1-13.

94 THE TEMPTATION. [Chap. VIL
He felt, too, that he was the promised and long-expected Mes
siah. When the full consciousness of his divine mission and
power possessed him can only be a matter of surmise. Some
have thought he was first revealed to himself at his baptism.
Others have thought his answer to his mother in the Temple,
" Wist ye not that I must be about my Father's business ?"
indicates that he possessed such a consciousness then. It is
certainly difficult to conceive that, as an infant in the cradle, -
he had a full comprehension of his character and his career.
Is it not possible that this comprehension gradually dawned
upon him ? Power is not always conscious power. Among
men, genius sometimes bursts suddenly into full bloom as a
primrose at twilight. More often it unfolds gradually and
unconsciously, little by little the soul learning what endow
ments God has given it — what work allotted it. So it may
have been with Jesus. His divinity may have dawned upon
him as gradually as it has upon the world. He who grew in
favor with God and man may have grown in his own con
sciousness of character as well.
However this may be, the time had now come when his di
vine consciousness was to assert itself in action. Jesus felt
that the time of his disclosure was at hand. He accepted the
voice of one crying in the wilderness as a summons to the
battle. From the comparative solitudes of Galilee he emerged
for the moment, only to plunge into the absolute solitude of
the wilderness ; perhaps the wild region of country between
Jericho and Jerusalem ; perhaps the desolate and inhospita
ble wild beyond the Jordan. From the baptism by John, in
which he had publicly consecrated himself to the service of
God and humanity, he retired to this wilderness to perfect
himself for his life-battle by a preparatory conflict. Here,, in
prayer and fasting, he studied the problem of his life.
Others had felt with anguish the degeneracy of their na
tion. They had taken up the sword to secure its independ
ence. Bravely, but in vain, the Maccabees had sought by
revolution to restore the ancient theocracy. Christ's more

Jan.,A.D. 31.] PREVISION. 95
comprehensive heart felt a heavier woe. He saw, as in a vis
ion, the universal corruption of mankind. He perceived that
institutions are the outgrowths of individual life, and that
this must be changed if they are to be permanently reformed.
He traced all the social and political degeneracy of his times
to its source^— a heart alienated from God and given up to
selfishness. The truths which he later preached orbed them
selves before him. He saw that men must be born again.
He saw that a world living without God and having no hope
must be inspired with hope by being brought back to God.
He saw that humanity waited for a new revelation of Jeho
vah, not as the king, but as the Father of mankind. He saw
that love, and that the love of God, was the only lever which
could lift the world out of its slough of despond. He saw
that words could never adequately portray that love ; that
only a life of patience and a death of suffering could do it.
He foresaw, keenest anguish of all, that even from such a
truth so portrayed many would turn away, deaf, blind, dead.
Gradually his life unfolded itself in a solemn indistinctness
before him. He perceived — it needed no prophet's eye to do
that — the inevitable conflict which he must court with the
Pharisaic party. He perceived himself disowned by the
Church he came to redeem. He perceived the people alter
nating between an ignorant enthusiasm when they under
stood not his purposes, and an ungovernable rage when they
did. He perceived himself left to the companionship of a few
uncultured and Uncongenial peasants culled from his Galilean
home. He perceived that the course of his life must be one
of suffering and seeming insignificance, its end an apparently
ignominious disaster and defeat. He stood in imagination in
Caiaphas's court, the subject of its mock pretense of trial He
stood in Pilate's court, and felt the hot breath of. the rabble
on his brow, and heard their loud outcries for his death. Tbe
Garden of Gethsemane cast its dark shadow on his path. The
cross loomed up, sombre and bloody, before him. The .exult
ant Pharisees, the downcast disciples, his mother, with her
5

96 THE TEMPTATION. [Chap. VII.
pierced and broken heart, all stood before him ; for he per
ceived that he must needs invite all whom he loved to the
banquet of suffering which he was preparing for himself. A
deeper sorrow overshadowed him as the darkness of the whole
earth closed about "him, the sins of the whole world rested on
him, and a dim vision of the hour when God would seem to
have forsaken, utterly appalled him.
And was this to be his career? Must he cast away all
bright hopes and brilliant earthly prospects of budding man
hood ? Must he cage and curb his impatient spirit ? Must
he turn away from all ordinary avenues of usefulness ? Must
he content himself with simplest instruction to the simple
peasantry ? Must he not only crucify himself, but lay the
cross on all who loved and sought to follow him ? From such
a prospect, all the native pride, the delicate sensitiveness, the
tender affections of his human nature arose in strong rebel
lion. He could neither eat nor sleep. For forty days and
nights he ate, if not absolutely nothing, at least nothing save
an occasional carob plucked from the forest trees, or a mouth
ful of wild honey gathered from the rocks.
Then, wearied and weakened, he entered on that mysterious
experience through which all his disciples have ever followed
him, and which Bunyan has so graphically depicted in the
passage of Christian through the Valley of the Shadow of
Death. Evil spirits seemed to surround him, and whispered
suggestions of recreancy, added to the tumultuous experiences
of the dark and mystic hour.
Whether Satan really appeared to Jesus in bodily form has
always been a matter of serious dispute among Christian men.
On the one hand, it is said that nowhere else is he depicted
as assuming a visible form ; that his power lies in his con
cealment ; that it is because the Christian has to fight, not
against flesh and blood, but against the unseen prince of the
power of the air, that he is commended to put on the whole
armor of God ;* that a revealed and incarnate devil would,
* Ephes. vi!, 12, 13.

Jan., AD. 31.] A DIFFICULT QUESTION. 97
by disclosing himself, defeat his purpose ; that it would need
no wondrous courage, no remarkable virtue to resist such a
tempter ; that the language of the Scripture narrative is to
be interpreted by the common usages and beliefs of the time ;
that, in narrating the experience afterward to his disciples,
Jesus used that language and confirmed that belief by as
serting that an evil spirit instigated the thoughts which tried
his soul ; and that this really signifies nothing more than that
they were presented to him by influences from without, not
harbored by him by the spirit within. On the other hand, it
is said that no believer in the Scripture can doubt the exist
ence of evil spirits, who really exert at times an influence on
the hearts and lives of men ; that belief in such demons is
the almost universal belief of the human race ; that it is no
incredible thing that at certain times and under peculiar cir
cumstances they may assume visible form, as certainly the
angels are stated to have done ;* that perhaps Martin Luther
was not mistaken when he thought he saw the devil; that
the exalted condition of Christ's faculties, and the unnatural
condition of his body, may have enabled him to see the in
visible world ; and that a philosophy which interprets away
the plain and simple assertion that " the tempter came to
him," and the " devil taketh him," is to be received and re
garded with great suspicion.
This controversy never has been settled, and probably nev
er will be. It is essential to the proper comprehension of
this narrative that we should understand that an evil spirit
really assailed Jesus ; that the suggestions of recreancy did
not spring spontaneous in his heart from evil desires which
lurked unrecognized there, but that they were whispered to
him by the tempter only to be instantly and indignantly re
jected. But whether this tempter was embodied or unseen
it does not seem important for us to know. The substantial
significance of the scene is the same, whichever interpreta-
* Matt, i., 20, 21 ; Luke i., 28-30 ; Matt, xxviii., 2-7 ; Dan. viii., 16, 17.

98 THE TEMPTATION. [Chap. VH.
tion of its external aspects is accepted; and it is that spir
itual significance alone which we wish to consider.*
Temptations most frequently present themselves first in
forms seemingly innocent. So it was with Jesus. Exhaust
ed nature reasserted her long -denied claims. Christ was
an hungered. The body, no longer subject to the supremacy
of the spirit, demanded food. Jesus was far from human hab
itations. The few wild fruits of the desolate wilderness were
utterly inadequate to supply his needs. But already he felt
within himself the mysterious endowment of miraculous pow
er. A word from him, and the stone beneath his feet would
be bread in his hand. Should he speak it, and save himself
from perishing from hunger ? Why, rather, should he not ?
He had come to live the life of man among men. He not
only took upon himself the form of a servant, he was made in
the conditionf of man. To employ his supernatural power
for his own sustenance was to destroy the significance of his
mission at the outset. That miraculous power he would not
exert for himself. They that taunted him on the cross, " He
saved others, himself he can not save," bore an unconscious
testimony to the unselfishness of his spirit, and the thorough
ness with which he took upon himself the life of common hu
manity. He that fed five thousand in the wilderness from
two small loaves and five little fishes would not supply him
self, except by ordinary means, with one.
A subtler temptation assailed him. "Go," so the whis
pered suggestion was uttered to his soul, " go to Jerusalem ;
assert your Messiahship ; invite an expectant people to ac
knowledge you their king ; demonstrate your claim by a mir-
* It would take us far beyond our limits to attempt to describe the various
theories which have clustered about this temptation, from those which treat
the story altogether as an allegory, to those which literalize it by the singular
hypothesis that Satan appeared in the form of one of the delegation from the
Sanhedrim, who had come up from Jerusalem to inquire into John's preach
ing, and who seized this opportunity to attempt to gain Christ over to the
priestly party ! See the various theories concisely stated in Lange's Com
mentary on Matthew iv. , 3.
t Phil. ii. , 8. Greek, axnfiaTi wptBcic wc a vOpuirog.

Jan., A.D. 31.] THIRD TEMPTATION. 99
acle wrought in the presence of the multitude ; cast yourself
down, unhurt, from the pinnacle of the Temple ; so, by one
bold master-stroke, assert your right, and secure from a won
dering nation their allegiance, while your own doubts of your
divine authority and mission shall be thus effectually settled
forever." No ! Not thus can Jesus's mission be accomplished ; not
the wonder of the people, but their love, he has come to
awaken ; not to be enthroned in their palaces, but in their
hearts ; not by a miracle that appeals to their senses, but by
a miracle of love and mercy, must he conquer his kingdom.
Sublime is the work which he has undertaken. Long, slow,
weary, is the path which he must traverse in accomplishing
it. And if his own mind is sometimes darkened by doubts —
if the consciousness of his divinity burns not yet clear in his
own bosom — if the whispered skepticism, " If thou be the Son
of God," finds momentary lodgment there, this is not the way
to banish it. Not by a trial of his supernatural powers, but
by the longer, harder trial of his patience and his love, will
he attest his Messiahship alike to himself and to mankind.
Once more the tempter assails him. " The Devil taketh
him up into an exceeding high mountain, and showeth him
all the kingdoms of the world and the glory of them ; and
saith unto him, 'All these things will I give thee if thou
wilt fall down and worship me.' "
It is impossible to interpret this literally. It is impossible
to suppose that from any mountain Jesus could gain a view
of all the kingdoms of the world. It is impossible but that
Jesus should have known the devil was promising what he
could not perform. It is impossible that the suggestion of
literal worship to a bodily fiend could offer any temptation —
we will not say to Jesus — to any one of ordinary purity of
heart and strength of conscience. In the entire narration of
the Gospel biographies, we have in graphic form the outlines
only of a picture — mere touches, that indicate an experience
which can only thus be portrayed. This last temptation was

100 THE TEMPTATION. [Chap. VH.
subtlest, and, therefore, most dangerous of all. Let the reader
in imagination conceive of Jesus, for the moment, unendowed
with the divine strength which belonged to the Son of God ;
let him conceive for a moment the issue as it might have pre
sented itself to a young man full of the buoyant hope, and fire
of zeal, and enthusiasm of imagination of ardent youth ; thus
he may best conceive what the temptation would have been
to the humanity in Christ.
In the midst of a ruined world, then, stands Jesus, the
mournful spectator of its woes. His pure soul is disgusted
by the heartless ritualism of a degenerate religion. His pa
triotism is wounded and grieved by his nation's present decay
and impending doom. He feels the weight of the Roman
yoke. He shudders at the impiety of the Roman polytheism.
He loathes and detests the odious oppression which is wear
ing out the life of his people. He has felt himself irresistibly
called to be the ransom, first of his own nation, then of all the
oppressed nationalities of the earth. He has purposed within
himself to found a kingdom whose law shall be liberty, whose
fruit shall be peace.
He recognizes that in the Jewish nation and in the Jew
ish religion are the elements out of which this kingdom is to
be constructed. The Jews possess the fundamental princi
ples of the true state. They possess the knowledge of the
true God. Salvation is of the Jews. Christianity is to grow
out of the ruins of Judaism, as the rose of spring is the resur
rection of the faded leaves that lie at its roots and nourish its
life. He comes, not to destroy the law and the prophets, but
to fulfill. He finds about him the remnants of the ancient
Church ; the descendants of the authorized priesthood ; the
degenerate scions of the lost prophetic order. He finds a re
ligious party, expectant of a Messiah, anxious for a Messiah,
and ready to cast the whole weight of their prestige and in
fluence in with any one who gives promise of restoring to the
nation its ancient glory, and will suffer them to be sharers in
it. For the establishment of such a kingdom Christ had

Jan., A.D. 31.] SATAN'S PROMISE. 101
many advantages. He had the grace which attracts men,
the eloquence which arouses, the courage which inspirits. If
he would but ally himself with the Church party ; if he would
but pass by unexposed their veneer of virtue ; if he would
put himself at their head ; if he would, in short, study how
to maintain and increase his influence among the influential,
the kingdom of Judea might be his. He might realize the
dream which Herod had sought in vain to realize. He might
re-establish the throne of David; reinstate the sceptre of Shi-
loh; reform the degenerate worship; restore the prophetic
order; reordain a holy priesthood. A picture of a nation
long enslaved, now disenthralled, redeemed, restored, reform
ed, purified by his power — this is the picture the wily tempt
er presents to his imagination.
Nor this alone. Alexander, going forth from the little
kingdom of Macedon, had vanquished the world. Already
Greece had lost its vitality; already the power of Rome was
passing away, though its apparent dominion was at its height.
To a devoutly enkindled imagination it would not seem im
possible that the conditions of the present might be reversed
in the future. The kingdoms of the earth might yet be made
subject to a redeemed and ransomed Israel. The Jewish peo
ple expected it. The prophets seemed to most of their read
ers to promise it. The kingdoms of the earth and all their
glory were seen as in a vision. And the seductive promise
was whispered in the ear of Jesus, "This victory shall be
thine. Only yield something of your religious zeal ; only
consent to join hands with the priestly aristocracy of Judea;
only consent to look in silence on their sins ; only compro
mise a little with conscience ; only employ the arts of policy
and the methods of state diplomacy, by which, always and
every where, men mount to power. Be not righteous over
much, for why shouldst thou destroy thyself?"
Something such was the picture Satan drew. It disclosed
the artist ; it ended the conflict. The issue was plain. Be
tween a life of self-sacrifice, ending in a shameful death, and

102 THE TEMPTATION. [Chap. VII.
a career of self-seeking ambition, there was no alternative.
In choosing there was no hesitation. Instantly and indig
nantly Jesus repels the suggestion. It finds no lodgment in
his heart. " Get thee behind me, Satan, for it is written,
' Thou shalt worship the Lord thy God, and him only shalt
thou serve,' " is his decisive answer. It is not difficult to
conceive with what power of eloquence, inspired by that mo
ment, Christ later preached, "Ye can not serve God and
mammon." The battle was fought. The victory gained by Satan in
the Garden of Eden was wrested from him in the wilderness.
The cross, with all its shame and suffering, with all its bright
but unseen glory too, was chosen. And from the dark val
ley, where evil spirits hover, and dark suggestions of sin fill
the reluctant ear and torment the oppressed spirit, Jesus
emerged into an experience of light, while angels came to
minister unto him.

Apr., A.D. 31.] FIRST FRIENDS. 103

CHAPTER Vlit.
THE MIRACLE AT THE MARRIAGE.*
&HLLE Jesus was thus preparing himself for
his mission, John the Baptist was preparing
the people for the Messiah's coming. Among
those who had flocked from the various parts
of Palestine to attend John's preaching were
four friends from the village of Bethsaida, in Galilee. They
were simple-minded peasants, indifferent, as the common peo
ple usually are, to the refined subtleties of the schools, but
not unacquainted with the Scriptures, and all the more ready
to receive the Messiah there promised, because their minds
and hearts were not preoccupied by a system which was at
once Christless and soulless. Jesus's air and bearing im
pressed them powerfully. They left John, attached them
selves to this new Rabbi, and followed him back to their
Galilean home. At Cana a fifth was added to their number.
Their names were John, Andrew, Simon, surnamed Peter,
Philip, and Nathanael, more usually designated by his fa
ther's name as the son of Tholmai.f
They can hardly be said, however, to have become as yet
Christ's disciples. They were not organized as a school.
They appear not to have abandoned their Original employ
ments till some time later. They certainly did not comprer
hend Christ's mission, and but vaguely his character ; but
'they were drawn to him by a strong personal attraction.
He impressed himself upon them by that mysterious power
* John i., 35-51; ii., 1-11.
t Bartholomew. For a good statement of the arguments for the identity
of Bartholomew and Nathanael, see Trench's Studies of the Gospel, p. 81.
5*

104 THE MIRACLE AT THE MARRIAGE. [Chap. VIII.
which, in a less degree, the richly-endowed of God, whom we
call geniuses, often possess. Throughout his life Jesus was
more than his teaching. He drew men to him far more by
personal qualities than by the popularity of his doctrine. To
love him was more than to accept his instructions. Thus
these five were first friends, afterward disciples, and in loving
hearts accepted Jesus before they comprehended either his
character or his work.
The little village of Cana is situated in the hill-country of
Galilee, about nine miles north of Nazareth.* Here Jesus
found an invitation awaiting him to a wedding. It is possi
ble that it may have been extended to him through the in
fluence of these new friends. There is a legend that John
was the bridegroom ; at all events, these disciples, as well as
Jesus, were among the guests.
In that age of ritualism the wedding was a far more elabo
rate ceremony than with us. The espousal was itself ordina
rily celebrated by significant ceremonials. There were no
secret engagements. The parties were publicly betrothed.
In the eye of the law they were thenceforth considered as
one. The property of the wife passed to her expected hus
band. Still, the bride and groom rarely met. All communi
cations were ordinarily had through a friend, termed the
" friend of the bridegroom." The espoused wife continued
to live with her father at home. At length the hour set
apart for the wedding arrived. At night the groom set out
for his bride's home ; friends accompanied him ; a band of
music attended the procession. The bride and her friends
waited his coming ; their lamps trimmed and burning, and
they as those that wait for their Lord. At length, about mid
night, the sound of music was heard; the whisper ran round
the expectant circle — Lo ! the bridegroom cometh ; let us go'
* There is some uncertainty as to the site ; but there is little doubt that
this is the true location. See Robinson's Researches, iii., sec. xiv., p. 204.
Ritter's Sacred Geogr., iv., 378-380 ; Thomson's Land and Book, vol. ii., p.
121, 122. Contra Hepworth Dixon's Holy Land, vol. i., p. 264, note.

Apr., A.D. 31.] THE JEWISH WEDDING. 105
forth to meet him. The bride, closely veiled, accompanied
by her maidens, received the groom. The combined proces
sion then marched back again, preceded by flaming torches,
to the house of the bridegroom. The streets of the little vil
lage resounded with music, laughter, hilarity. Boys accom
panied it, shouting ; women flocked to the windows to scan
the features of the groom and the dress of the bride. The
service possessed the same singular fascination, especially
over woman's heart, that it always has and always will. Ar
riving at the bridegroom's house, they found an elaborate
feast prepared for the entire party ; this feast constituted the
only marriage ceremony ; it was enlivened by music, dancing,
and various games. The festivities lasted several days, some
times an entire fortnight. If there were any religious serv
ices, they were subordinate to these festivities. All Went
merry as a marriage bell.*
Human nature was much the same then as now. These
feasts were not always conducted with decorum. They were,
at times, the scenes of revelry and intemperate indulgence.
Such disorders characterized, perhaps, the Greek and Roman
feasts more frequently than those of Judea ; yet the latter
were not always free from them.f The feast, at least in
Greece, ended with a symposium — a drinking banquet, in
which the wine passed from hand to hand, each pledging his
neighbor, and all uniting in pledges to the bride and groom.
The former was still closely veiled. It is said that she did
not customarily raise her veil till the end of the feast closed
the marriage service. It might even happen that the hus
band did not see his wife's face after the espousal till he saw
it in the bridal chamber. Thus Jacob was cheated of his
choice, and, having served seven years for Rachel, had Leah
palmed off upon him by Laban, who, being a shrewd match-
* The following passages of Scripture may be referred to as illustrating
these features of the wedding feast : Gen. xxix., 22 ; Judges xiv., 1, 2, 10 ;
Matt, xxii., 1-14 ; Isa. lxi., 10 ; John iii., 29 ; Matt, ix., 15 ; xxv., 1-13.
t See page 108, and notes there.

106 THE MIRACLE AT THE MARRIAGE. [Chap. VIII.
maker, thought the opportunity to be rid of both his daugh
ters too good to be foregone.*
It was to such a scene Christ now repaired, but a few days
after the temptation in the wilderness. The transition was
strange. Life, especially ministerial life, is full of strangely
intermixed light and shade. From the wilderness to the
marriage feast — from the wild, where he hungered for a sin
gle loaf of bread, to the banquet-hall — from the lonely strug
gle with Satan to the merry songs and jests of many friends :
so we pass with shifting of the scenes, swifter and more mar
velous than any drama.
Who were the married pair we do not know. They were
friends of Jesus. They were probably relatives. His moth
er seems to have exercised authority. She directed the serv
ants as though mistress of the house rather than guest, and
they unquestioningly obeyed her. The family probably be
longed to the middle class in society, for Christ had few
friends among the rich. The guests, moreover, were too nu
merous for their host's means. The wine gave out early in
the feast, and Mary, who was concerned by it as no mere
guest could well have been, appealed to Jesus for counsel or
for help. " They have no wine," said she.
Christ's answer is somewhat obscure. It has been very
generally thought to convey a reproof to the mother for her
implied request for a miracle. It certainly seems to give no
promise of assistance. "What is that to us?"f he said. Per
haps in the tone there was somewhat which the words fail
to convey. She, at all events, perceived in it some encour
agement, and told the servants to do whatever her son bade
them. Meantime the feast went merrily on. The master
of ceremonies did not even know that the supply had failed.
* See Gen. xxix.
t Ti tjioi Kai 7-t may he translated either as above or as in our English ver
sion. The former seems better to agree with the context (so Adam Clarke,
Notes in loco) ; the latter with other parallel passages in Scripture. See
Judges xi., 12; 1 Kings xvii., 18; 2 Kings iii., 13, in Septuagint. So Al
ford, Trench, Olshausen, Bloomfield.

Apr., A.D. 31.] ITS SIGNIFICANCE. 107
The Jewish dining-room usually opens upon the court
yard, which constitutes the centre of the better class of Jew
ish houses. In this court there were set six jars for' water.
They were about two thirds the size of an ordinary barrel.
They contained twenty gallons each. "Fill up the jars with
water," is Christ's direction. It is done. " Bear now to the
governor of the feast." The astonished servants obey. This
by-play passes unobserved. The master of the feast tries the
new draught that is set before him. The water has become
wine. Surprised at its flavor and its quality, he exclaims to
the bridegroom, " Every man, at the beginning, doth set forth
good wine, and when men have well drunk, then that which
is worse ; but thou hast kept the good wine until now."
In this simple narrative there seems at first nothing, save
the mere fact of a miracle, at all surprising. That a young
man should attend the wedding of a friend, and contribute to
the sources of its enjoyment by giving some wine for the oc
casion, is not remarkable, especially as it was customary for
invited guests to bring with them contributions to the feast.
But Christian faith sees in this incident much more. That
the Son of God should commence his earthly career by at
tending a marriage feast, and perform his first miracle for the
purpose of prolonging its festivities, possesses a marked moral
significance. The simple fact that Jesus made wine at all
has been a perplexity to many good men, and a cause of grat-
ulation to some evil ones. Men that quote no other act of
Jesus never tire of quoting this. Men that follow him in
nothing else, accept him as their example here. The fact is
regarded as the all-sufficient argument for the modern liquor-
traffic. A modem liquor-dealer's association is said to have
adopted as their seal a picture of Christ turning water into
wine at Cana of Galilee.
The perplexity of Christ's true disciples is increased when
this isolated fact is coupled with a consideration of his ha
bitual practice. It certainly was not that of total abstinence.
Wine had been in use from the days when Noah's sons cov-

108 THE MIRACLE AT THE MARRIAGE. [Chap. VIII.
ered the shame of their father's drunkenness. Intemperance
was a common, though not so universal a vice as now. Mo
ses had forbidden the priesthood to taste of wine during the
Temple service.* Solomon had found occasion to warn
against the intoxicating cup.f Daniel had protested against
it by eating pulse and drinking water. J The stories of Ahas-
uerus and of Belshazzar are sufficient illustrations that in
toxication was a royal as well as a common sin in the East.§
We know that it was increasingly common in Greece and
Rome. A few years after Christ turned water into wine at
Cana, Paul had to admonish the young Church at Corinth
for converting the Lord's Supper into a drinking bout.| The
parable of the prodigal son is itself a sufficient witness that
dissipation is not exclusively a modern vice. --If Yet Jesus
would seem neither to have practiced total abstinence him
self, nor to have inculcated it as a duty binding on his im
mediate followers. On the contrary, he initiated his life by
a miraculous making of wine. He attended without hesita
tion the feasts where it was used. He habitually partook of
it. The common argument from example did not dissuade
him. He suffered himself to be called a wine-bibber and a
glutton ; and, dying, he left, as his last legacy to the Church,
a ceremonial which is inseparably identified with the drink
ing of wine as a symbol of participation in the benefits of his
blood. Such are the first aspects of his life, and the witness
of his example on this subject.
It does not follow, however, from these facts, that by his
example or his silence Christ encourages the drinking cus
toms of modern society, or the manufacture and sale of mod
ern alcoholic liquors. To argue the temperance question is
not within our province in these pages, yet two facts are to
be borne in mind in considering the meaning of Christ's
* Lev. x., 8-11 ; Ezek. xliv., 21. t Prov. xxiii., 29-32.
X Dan. i., 8, 12. § Esth. i., 10 ; Dan. v., 2, 4. || 1 Cor. xi., 21, 22.
1 Compare, also, such passages as Isaiah v., 22 ; xxviii., 7 ; Hos. iv, 11 ;
Rom. xiii., 13; Gal. v., 21; 1 Pet. iv.,3.

Apiv,A.D. 31.] THE TEMPERANCE QUESTION. 109
example. And that example it is our province to eluci
date. In the first place, it is to be remembered that the wines of
Palestine and those in ordinary use in America are alike only
in name. Of the former there were three kinds. First, there
was fermented wine.. It contained what is the only objec
tionable element in modern wines, a percentage of alcohol.
It was the least common, and the percentage of alcohol was
small. Distilled liquors ware almost, if not utterly unknown.
Second were the new wines. These, like our new cider, were
wholly without alcohol, and were not intoxicating. They
were easily preserved in this condition for several months.
Third were wines in which, by boiling or by drugs, the pro
cess of fermentation was prevented and alcohol excluded.
These, answering somewhat in composition and character to
our raspberry shrub, were mixed with water, and constituted
the most common drink of the land.*
Now there is no evidence to indicate which of these wines
was in use at this festival, nor which kind Jesus made. There
is nothing to indicate that he ever partook of any alcoholic
liquors, nor, on the other hand, is there any thing to indicate
the reverse. History is absolutely silent on this point. The
statement that any historic character was fond of cider would
leave it matter of mere conjecture whether it was sweet or
hard cider that he liked. The statement that Jesus turned
water into wine leaves it wholly matter of conjecture wheth
er it was new, sweet, or fermented wine he made.f
* That this statement should be seriously denied, and an attempt made to
prove that the process of fermentation can not be stopped (see D. R. Thom-
ason's little tract on " Teetotalism as a Rule of Duty unknown to the Bible,"
p. 31-37), only indicates the length to which men are sometimes carried in
the heat of argument. For a full and impartial account of the wines of the
Oriental and classical world, and a description of the processes employed to
prevent fermentation, see Smith's Diet, of Antiq., art. Vinum, and Smith's
Bib. Diet., art. Wine.
t It is indeed said that the statement made by the ruler of the feast indi
cates that it was alcoholic wine Jesus made. That verse is paraphrased as
follows : "Every man, at the beginning, doth set forth good wine" (i. e. , strong

HO THE MIRACLE AT THE MARRIAGE. [Chap. VIII.
In the second place, it is to be remembered that the life and
teachings of Christ were for all time and for all communities,
while the total abstinence question is largely local and tem
porary. It is certainly unquestionable that fermentation is
a process of nature as much as growth, and alcohol a gift of
God as truly as the fruits of the earth. It does not follow,
in our clay and country, with all the evils which flow from
social drinking and the liquor traffic, that they are to be sanc
tioned and maintained. It is unquestionable that the cus
tomary use of fermented liquors as a beverage in excited and
over-stimulated America is accompanied by evils of the most
serious and terrible character, which seem to be inseparable
therefrom. It does not follow that the world will never be
self-restrained enough to use them. The wine-drinking which
is hazardous in our age and place may be safe in another.
The world in its childhood must forego some things which in
its manhood it may use. It may at least be wise, if it be not
duty, to leave untouched to-day what in the riper life of to
morrow we may employ with safety.
To these considerations may be added a third. Christ did
not undertake the immediate reformation of any specific
evils. He found his nation groaning under the intolerable
servitude of a foreign despotism. Yet he counseled paying
tribute to Caesar. He found a Church from whose ceremo
nials a corrupt priesthood had taken all true life. Yet he at-
liquor) ; " and when men have well drunk" (i. e., are thoroughly intoxicated),
" then that which is worse" (i. e., weaker) ; "but thou hast kept the good
wine until now. " But Mr. Barnes has shown (see his notes, in hco) that in
the ancient world wine was rightly regarded best which was least intoxicat
ing. And though doubtless the primary signification of the Greek word
IxtBvoBiom is " to be intoxicated," Bloomfield has shown (see his notes, in loco)
that it does not always bear this signification either in classic or Scripture
usage. And certainly an interpretation which assumes that drunkenness was
so common a vice that the host was accustomed to reckon on the intoxication
of his guests in making his provision for them, is intrinsically incredible, and
does not consort with what we know of life in the East at that time. We ac
cept, therefore, the English version as accurate in representing, not intoxica
tion, hut a certain palling of the palate, as the reason for putting the poor
wine last.

Apr., A.D. 31.] CHRIST'S WORK. HI
tended its customary festivals and services, and complied
with most, if not all of its observances. He found the scribes
and Pharisees the accepted teachers of the people, against
whose lifeless and selfish formalism he constantly counseled
them. Yet he bade his disciples do all that they commanded
because they sat in Moses's seat. He found slavery an ac
cepted institution of the entire civilized world. He pro
claimed no emancipation, and his immediate apostles, acting
under his inspiration, commended to the slaves contentment
and obedience. He found intemperance a customary vice.
That he made no direct effort to eradicate it is only in ac
cordance with his general principles and practice. He was
neither political, ecclesiastical, social, nor temperance reform
er, but all, and more than all. He undertook a broader work
than either — the evolution of moral forces which should lib
erate the- race from all servitude, present the Church without
spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing, thoroughly purge and
purify society, and redeem the individual from all fleshly do
minion. From this mission he would not turn aside for any
specific reform, however important it might be.
We conclude, then, that Jesus, by his life and teachings,
does not directly solve the temperance, rather let us say the
total abstinence problem ; and that the question of use or
abstinence of wines is to be settled by no particular precepts
or plain example, but by the application of the general prin
ciples Jesus inculcated to the facts and circumstances of
modern society.
If, however, this incident throws no clear light on the tem
perance controversy, it is full of significance upon another
and no less important matter. Jesus had just been baptized
by John. He had just emerged from forty days of hermit
age in the wilderness. He had for his first disciples four who
were attendants on the Baptist's preaching. He seemed to
be following in his forerunner's footsteps. It was important
that he should mark at the outset the difference between the
liberty of his Gospel and the bondage of John's asceticism.

112 THE MIRACLE AT THE MARRIAGE. [Chap. VIII.
The marriage at Cana did this more powerfully than any ser
mon, and inaugurated a life as different in spirit from that
of his cousin as his cousin's was from that of the Pharisaic
religion of the day. John ate locusts and wild honey ; Jesus
began his career at a marriage feast. John never drank wine ;
Jesus made it by a miracle. John never accepted an invita
tion to a social gathering ; Jesus never declined one. John
lived in the wilderness; Jesus traversed Palestine from. its
southern capital to its northern border, mingling with the
people, entering their houses, sharing in their feasts, joining
in their sports, preaching in their synagogues, living as a man
among men, but every where carrying with him truth, purity,
love, and by his own life teaching how to live.*
It has been said that Jesus wept, but never laughed. The
whole spirit of his life refutes this assumption. His sociality
was one of the most notable features of his character. World
ly and irreligious men were drawn to him. Prejudices of
caste, of blood, and of religion disappeared in the warm sun
shine of his presence. Jew as he was, the Samaritans made
him their guest. Galilean and Nazarene as he was, he was
the invited guest alike of publican and of Pharisee. Some
of his most valued instructions were given at feasts made in
his honor. He declares of himself that he came eating and
drinking. And so characteristic was the joyous geniality of
his life, that the Pharisees, who wore their faces as long as
their garments, and could understand no purity but that of
pride and seclusion, stigmatized him as a friend of publicans
and sinners, in which they unconsciously told the truth, and
as a glutton and wine -bibber, in which they intentionally
lied. His whole career is a perfect illustration of the precept
of his apostle, "Use this world as not abusing it."f To such
a life the miracle at the marriage was a fitting prelude.
Jesus was now, then, ready to commence his labors. He
had pondered long his mission and formed his purpose. He
had, by his baptism, publicly consecrated himself to his work.
* See Matt, xi., 16-19. • f 1 Cor. vii., 31.

Apr., A.D. 31.] CHRIST'S SOCIAL CHARACTER.

113

He had, by his struggle with Satan, prepared himself for the
more bitter struggle of his life and death. In the four friends
who followed him he had gathered the nucleus of his future
Church. In the miracle at the marriage he had signified the
joyous freedom of the Gospel he had come to preach. But
his public ministry could not be inaugurated in a corner. He
would not begin it in Galilee. In the city that had slain the
prophets, and that, slaying him, was to perish in his death
as the temple of Dagon in the death-throes of Samson, he
must first proclaim his mission by an audacious challenge to
the corrupt priesthood whose office-work was at an end, and
whose place he was about to fill by a universal priesthood
holy unto God.
It was the time of the Passover. Taking John with him*
as his companion, he journeyed to Jerusalem.
* It is certain, from the whole tenor of John's Gospel, that he was with
Jesus during this first visit to Jerusalem. There is nothing but John iv., 1,
to indicate that the other disciples were, and they may have joined him at
the Jordan.

114

THE REFINER'S FIRE.

[Chap. IX.

CHAPTER IX.
THE REFINER'S FIRE.*
lO the ancient Jew Mount Moriah was the most
sacred spot in the Holy Land. Here, where
eighteen hundred years before the birth of Christ
Abraham had gone to offer his son Isaac,f and in
sight of the holy hill where the Son of God was
to be offered a sacrifice for sin, Solomon had built the Temple,
the sacred edifice of the Jews. J About it clustered all their
religious associations. Here the ark of God found a resting-
place after its long wanderings in the wilderness. § Here the
law was kept, the legacy which Moses had left to the nation
which he founded. Here the whole sacrificial system of the
Jewish worship centred. Here was the home of the priests.
In rooms connected with this building, prophets and holy
men and women lived, who consecrated their lives to prayer
and praise. || Hither the people resorted thrice a year to offer
their sacrifices of penitence, of consecration, and of thanksgiv
ing. *lf Hither every mother brought her first-born son, that
she might redeem him from the Lord.** Here the Sanhedrim
gathered for many of their most important deliberations ; for
* John ii., 13-25 ; iii., 1-21.
t Gen. xxii. ; Josephus, Antiq., i., 13, § 2; vii., 13, § 4. The tradition
which locates Abraham's act upon this mountain is denied by Stanley (Sinai
and Palestine, ch. v., note, § 2, p. 247), Geo. Grove (Smith's Bib. Diet., art.
Moriah), and Rev. E. S. Ffoulkes (Ibid., art. Gerizim), but reasserted by
Thomson (Land and the Book, vol. ii., p. 212), and is still generally accepted
by Christian scholars.
X The Mosque of Omar, of which a picture is given opposite, occupies the
site of the ancient Temple. Of the many attempts to restore that temple ar
chitecturally, none can be considered historically accurate or really success
ful. § 1 Kings viii., 3-9. || Luke ii., 37.
1 Exod. xxiii., 14-17. ** Luke ii., 22.

Apr.,A.D. 31.]

THE TEMPLE.

115

EBtt3mR3

THE MOSQUE OP OMAB.

the Temple was the Jewish capitol as well as the Jewish
Church. Wherever he might be, the devout Jew knelt to
ward this temple* as he offered his daily devotions to Jehovah
* 1 Kings viii., 30, 33, 38, 48 ; Dan. vi., 10.

116 THE REFINER'S FIRE. [Chap. IX.
who, in his imagination, dwelt between the cherubims.* The
overthrow of the Temple was to him like the dethronement
of God. Its restoration was the revival of his religion and
his nationality. Destroyed in the Babylonish incursion un
der Nebuchadnezzar, it had been rebuilt by Zerubbabel under
Cyrus. Pillaged, profaned, polluted by the heathen foes who
in the long night of anarchy successively occupied Jerusalem,
Herod found it in a state of ruin sadly typical of the desola
tion of that religious system of which it was the emblem.
He was fond of architectural display. He was ambitious to
found a dynasty which should equal in splendor that of Sol
omon. He was desirous to ingratiate himself with the Jew
ish people. He therefore inaugurated his reign by measures
for the rebuilding of the ruined Temple. A thousand wagons
were prepared. Ten thousand skilled workmen were gath
ered from the various parts of Palestine. A thousand priests
were especially instructed in the arts of the stone-cutter and
the carpenter. It was more than eighty years before the
last workman finally left the sacred edifice.f
The result was a temple whose architectural magnificence
has perhaps never been surpassed in ancient or modern
times. J It consisted of a series of courts, one within and ris
ing above the other. On the apex of the hill, it crowned the
city, which, by its presence, it made the Holy City. To the
traveler approaching Jerusalem it was the most prominent
object of sight, as to the Jew every where it was the most
prominent object of a reverential affection. It covered an
area of over nineteen acres.§ St. Peter's of Rome and St.
Paul's of London combined cover an area not quite so large. ||
* Exod. xxv., 22 ; 2 Sam. vi., 2.
t The interior temple was a year and a half in rebuilding. Eight years
longer the Levites labored on the outer court. But work was carried on in
finishing rooms and perfecting details throughout nearly the whole of Herod's
reign. X Smith's Bible Diet., art. Temple. § Brown's Antiquities, i., 40.
|| It occupied a square of 400 cubits, or about 600 feet. St. Peter's and St.
Paul's are both cruciform, but their dimensions may be roughly estimated as
respectively 600 x 400 feet, and 500x200 feet.

Apr., A.D. 31.] COURT OF THE GENTILES.

117

The material was white marble, the roof cedar, the architec
ture probably an admixture of the Greek and Roman. Huge
gates, magnificently ornamented, admitted the worshiper who
had ascended the holy hill to its outer court, which, as the
reader will see by reference to the annexed ground plan, com
pletely encircled the Temple proper within. Entering on
the southern side, the visitor found himself in the largest of
these courts, the Stoa Basilica. Alone it comprised an area

larger than the largest of the English cathedrals. Four rows
of marble pillars of dazzling brightness supported a roof
whose beams and boards of cedar were elaborately carved,
and divided the court into three aisles, like those of a Gothic
cathedral. The floor was a mosaic of many-colored stones.
A marble balustrade, magnificently carved, surrounded the
Temple proper, which was built within this court, and raised

118 THE REFINER'S FIRE. £Chap.IX.
a few steps above it. Inscriptions in Greek and Latin for
bade the heathen from advancing farther under pain of death.
But the privileged Jew, ascending a flight of steps, and pass
ing through one of the richly-ornamented doors which ad
mitted to the sacred inclosure, found himself in the true
Temple, with its terraced courts of the women, of Israel and
of the priests, rising one above the other, with its doors of
cedar and of brass covered with carving and richly gilt, with
its treasury boxes for the gifts, its golden and marble tables
for the shew bread, its silver table covered with the golden
and silver utensils for the Temple service, with its altar for
the burnt offerings, and with its inmost temple, itself the
size of an ordinary modern church,* within which was the
Holy of Holies, veiled from even priestly gaze by the impen
etrable curtain so mysteriously rent in the hour of Christ's
crucifixion. The outer court of this temple was known as the Court of
the Gentiles, f Here all persons, of all religions and nationali
ties, might resort. No public worship, save perhaps an occa
sional religious procession to and from the Temple within,
was conducted in this court. But here the people gathered
for religious discussion. Here the scribes taught them in
the law. Here Christ preached to the people in the last
days of his ministry. J Here the Christians assembled daily,
with one accord, after then- Lord's ascension. § Here the
apostles preached Christ, and him crucified, to the assembled
Jews. || In brief, what the Areopagus was to the Greek,1"the
Court of the Gentiles was to the Jew, the political and liter
ary, because the religious, exchange of the nation.
This, rather we should say, it had been. It was one of the
signs of the times that commerce had intrenched upon relig-
* It was 90 X 30 feet. See Brown's Antiquities, i., 185, 199.
t For a farther description of the Temple, see Kitto's Bible Cyclopedia,
and Smith's Bible Dictionary, art. Temple ; Brown's Antiquities, i., as ante;
Josephus, Antiquities, xv., 11 ; Wars, v., 5 ; and other authorities referred
to in the Appendix. % Matt, xxi., 23.
§ Luke xxiv., 53. || Acts v., 21 , 42. f Acts xvii., 19.

Apr., A.D. 31.] PRIESTLY PROFANATION. 119
ion. The Temple, from being the centre of Jewish worship,
had become as well the centre of Jewish trade. The people,
scattered not only throughout all Palestine, but in outlying
provinces, were unable to bring from afar the sacrifices for
the altar. The Mosaic law permitted them to sell their first-
fruits, and with the money purchase their gifts at Jerusa
lem.* They were required also to pay for the support of the
Temple service a half shekel.f This must be paid in Jewish
coinage. Gentile money would pollute the sacred coffers.
Thus gradually the great feast-days became great market-
days, as they still are among the nomadic tribes of the Mo
hammedan religion. At first, probably money-changing was
conducted quietly in the vestibule of the Temple. Then per
haps one bolder than the rest placed his table there. Others
followediN A corrupt priesthood, sharing in the profits of the
traffic, winked at the profanation it involved, until at length
the place of public religious assemblage became the public
market of Jerusalem. Nor was this all. The greed which
hesitated not to dishonor God scrupled not to defraud man.
The lame, the blind, the diseased were sold for sacrifice by
the Levite, and accepted by the priest.J The same officer
.served as collector of customs for the Lord and as broker for
himself, and, as he charged a commission of two and a half
per cent, on every shekel, and would not even suffer two per
sons to put in one shekel to pay the tribute of both without
•first paying to him the brokerage, he did on the great festal
occasions of Judaism a very profitable business.
Christ, soon after the scenes recorded in the last chapter,
came up to Jerusalem on the Passover, there to inaugurate
his public ministry. The sight which met his eyes as he en
tered the Temple aroused his indignation. The aisles of the
outer courts were filled with the booths of the traders. The
tesselated pavement was covered with* the straw and filth of
the stable. The magnificent marble pillars were made to
* See Deut. xiv., 24-26. t Exod. xxx., 11-16. See post, ch. xxiii.
*t See Mal. i.,7, 8.
6

120 THE REFINER'S FIRE. [Chap. IX.
serve as hitching-posts for the sheep and cattle. The great
gateways were obstructed with the tables of the brokers.
The unseemly smell of the market entering the Temple gates
mingled with the fragrance of the incense before the altar.
The bleating of sheep, the cooing of doves, the lowing of cat
tle, the clink of money, and the loud altercations of traders
mingled with the music of its sacred service. Christ was
filled with indignation. He remembered, perhaps, the ancient
prophecy, " He shall purify the sons of Levi"* He felt that
there was need that judgment should begin at the house of
God. He acted on the impulse of the moment with a zeal
which, to his disciples, seemed untempered with discretion.
It was a case where burning vehemence alone could win the
victory .which would have been denied to prudence and cal
culation. We are apt to disrobe Christ of those very qualities which
most enkindle our hearts. He was meek and lowly of spirit,
but he was also possessed of ardent though self-restrained
impulses. He was the Lamb of God, but also the Lion of the
tribe of Judah. The wrath of the Lamb, of which the reve-
lator speaks, was occasionally exemplified in his earthly life..
He gathered from the floor some of the rushes strewed
there for the beds of the cattle. Such appears to be the
meaning of the words translated in our English version
"small cords. "f He wove from them a scourge. With a
countenance terrible in the majesty of a justifiable but im
petuous and irresistible indignation, he advanced on these
usurpers of the sacred courts. He demanded the meaning
of their sacrilege. He drove the cattle from their stalls.
He overturned the tables of the money-changers. There was
something in his mien which forbade resistance. It was per
haps with this scene in mind that John afterward signifi
cantly described the Son of man as having eyes like a flame
of fire, and a voice like the sound of many waters.J
A panic spread through the assemblage. The owners fol-
* Mal. iii., 3. t Alford, in loco. X Rev. i., 14, 15 ; ii., 18.

Apr., A.D. 31.] EXPULSION OF THE TRADERS. 121
lowed their fleeing cattle. The brokers did not even stop to
gather up their money. The whole crowd of traffickers fled
before this single Galilean. That they neither questioned
his authority nor resisted his demands imports perhaps noth
ing more than a moral miracle — the wondrousness that is of
Christ's moral power. The spirit of greed is seldom brave.
A guilty conscience makes cowards of us all. Christ's act
was legal. It was popular. It was a protest against the
trafficking usurpations of the few in favor of the sacred rights
of the many. The common people welcomed the restoration
of their temple courts. Even the purer portion of the Phari
saic party rejoiced to see removed the profanation they ab
horred, but dared not protest against. At all events, it was
not till the scene was over and the courts were cleared that
the traders regained sufficient courage to demand of Jesus
some evidence of his authority. He gave them but little
satisfaction by his enigmatical reply, afterward so treasured
up against him : " Destroy this temple, and in three days I
will raise it up."
Strange prophecy, strangely fulfilled. Already, by their
spiritual corruptions, they had destroyed that Mosaic econo
my of which the Temple was but the symbol. In the cruci
fixion of Christ they completed that destruction. The literal
overthrow of the Temple by the legions of Titus forty years
later was but the fall of the already girdled tree. After a
protracted siege, whose scenes of horror can find no parallel
in history, the Roman general captured the holy city, and
so utterly destroyed the Temple, which the Jews had made
their fortress, that of the superstructure* it was literally true
that not one stone was left upon another. All attempts to
rebuild it have proved in vain. But on the ruins of the an
cient theocracy, never to be restored, Christ, by his victory
over death, has in the resurrection built that Christian sys
tem which is the second and more glorious Temple to the
* This is only true of the superstructure. The foundation stones still re
main, and are now being exhumed.

122 THE REFINERS FIRE. [Chap. IX.
same Jehovah ; that covers no holy hill, but fills the whole
earth ; that has no courts of the Gentiles, of the women, and
of the priests, but wherein the partition wall is broken down ;
where there is neither Jew nor Greek, male nor female, but
all minister as priests unto God, entering daily even into the
Holy of Holies through the blood of the new covenant.
This incident produced a profound impression. Many were
inclined to attach themselves to Jesus as the founder of a new
school of Jewish philosophy. More, perhaps, were inclined
to inquire farther of his doctrine. Of these was Nicodemus,
a man of wealth,* of Pharisaic learning, of extended influence,
a member of the Sanhedrim,f and himself a teacher of the
Jewish laws. J A fair type of the class to which he belonged,
the, better portion of the Pharisees, he possessed culture with
out courage ; moral taste without manly strength ; an appre
ciation of the truth, but no irresistible craving for it ; curiosi
ty to learn of Christ, no self-denying earnestness of purpose
to follow him. It was to such Christ was afterward accus
tomed to say, " Whosoever doth not bear his cross and come
after me can not be my disciple."§ He sought an interview
with Jesus at night, not for fear of the Jews, for as yet there
was no embittered enmity, but only an aroused curiosity
among the people, but for more quiet conversation, or, per
haps, from an unwillingness to commit himself to this as yet
unknown Galilean.
In his opening sentence Nicodemus defines his position.
" Rabbi, we know that thou art a teacher come from God, for
no man can do these miracles that thou doest except God be
with him." He professes a certain kind of faith in Jesus.
He accepts him as a divinely-commissioned teacher, coming
from God, bringing with him a new revelation of truth, in
spired for its inculcation by the indwelling of God's Spirit.
Thus he puts himself at the head historically of the humani
tarian school. He is the first advocate of that philosophy
* 1 John xix., 39. t John iii., 1 ; vii., 45-50.
¦ John iii., 10. § Luke xiv., 27.

Apr., A.D.31.] CONVERSATION WITH NICODEMUS. 123
which fails to recognize the atoning sacrifice of the " Lamb
of God which taketh away the sins of the world," but pro
fesses for Jesus of Nazareth a profound reverence as for a
" teacher sent from God ;" which rejects a supernatural sal
vation, but nevertheless pays seeming honor to Christianity.
To secure at the outset of his career such an indorsement
from the Supreme Court of Judaism as Nicodemus, with hon
est but mistaken reverence, thus offered, might well seem a
vantage to Jesus's cause worth contending for. And Nico
demus, it is clear, spoke for others as well as for himself.
But Jesus always declined half homage, even though it
came from the highest quarters. His response as distinctly
defines his position. He is no mere, teacher come from God.
He is the Life of the world. It is not instruction, but new
moral power that humanity needs. " Verily, verily, I say
unto thee, except a man be born again he can not see the
kingdom of God."
This symbol was more significant to a Jewish Rabbi than
to us. The Jews were accustomed to receive to the privi
leges of Judaism proselytes from heathen religions. The
Jewish law provided for the public admission of such con
verts to the fellowship of Israel.* They were circumcised in
token of their adoption, and baptized as a sign of their puri
fication. They were then said to be born again. Old things
passed away. All things became new. Old relationships
were dissolved. The convert might marry his nearest kin
without imputed crime, for she was of kin to him no more.f
Jesus seized this familiar fact, and employed it to illustrate
the truth that it is not intellectual conviction, but a fundar
mental change in the moral forces of the soul which is need
ed to initiate his disciples into the kingdom of God.
None are so deaf, it is said, as those that will not hear.
None certainly are so stupid as those that will not compre
hend. It is impossible to suppose that Nicodemus was hon-
* Exod. xii., 48; Numb, ix., 14.
t Smith's Bible Dictionary, art. Proselytes.

124 THE REFINER'S FIRE. [Chap. IX.
est in his literal interpretation of this familiar symbol. "How
can a man be born again ?" he asked. " Can he enter his
mother's womb and be born ?" Jesus simply reaffirmed his
declaration. At the same time, without explaining, he defined
it. " Ye must be born again," said he, in substance ; not mere
ly of water ; no external ceremonial can cleanse you from sin ;
not by re-entering the mother's womb, for that which is born
of flesh is flesh; but by the indwelling Spirit of God. How,
I can not tell you ; for the secrets of God's operations you
understand not, neither in nature nor in grace. You can not
tell of the wind whence it cometh or whither it goeth. Nor
would it be of use for me to give you the information ; for
when I tell you of earthly things, man's need of a divinely-
wrought change, the evidences of which you may see for
yourself, you believe not. How, then, will you believe if I
explain to you heavenly things — the divine methods in work
ing out that change ? But what you must do to receive this
new birth I will tell you. It is the gift of God. It is received
through faith in him who has come down from heaven, a wit
ness of heavenly things. He is yet to fulfill the ancient type;
and, as the serpent in the wilderness, so is he to be lifted up,
that whosoever believeth in him might be saved. For not to
judge mankind ; not to build up Jewish pride on the ruin of
other races ; not, like Moses, to destroy the Gentile that he
may save the Jew, is the Messiah revealed. He comes to af
ford to all mankind this new birth, and so to administer to
every creature an entrance into the kingdom of God. He is
the hope, not merely of the Jewish nation, but of that outly
ing world which the Pharisee, indeed, despises, but which God
loves, even to the giving of his own and only-begotten Son.
He who rejects such a Gospel of love, borne by such a Savior,
needs not to be judged. By that very rejection he sets the
seal to his own condemnation. He needs, in truth, no other.
Such, in brief, is an epitome of Christ's conversation with
Nicodemus — in the beginning a conversation, in the end a
discourse.

Apr., A.D. 31.] RESULTS. 125
It has been said that the doctrines of Christ were gradually
developed. If by this is meant that little by little he unfolded
the truth as men were able to bear it, it is true. If it is
meant that little by little the truth unfolded itself in his own
mind, nothing more than this conversation with Nicodemus
is necessary to show the error ; for in this conversation, at
the outset of his ministry, he enunciated those sublime truths
of regeneration, divine Sonship with the Father, an atoning
sacrifice for sin, and a divine judgment on unbelief, to which
centuries of intensest thought have added nothing save inter
pretation and application.
This conversation produced no immediate results. It was
not lost, however. Nicodemus went away to ponder the
truths which seemed so enigmatical to him, and to honor in
secret the Rabbi whom he dared not openly confess. Not
till after three years of germination — not till this seed had
been watered by Christ's blood, did it appear above the
ground in open confession.

126 THE WOMAN AT THE WELL. [Chap. X

CHAPTER X.
THE WOMAN AT THE WELL.*
(&*|||il|a URING the events recorded in the preceding
"' chapter, John the Baptist had continued faith
fully his prophetic ministry. While Jesus had
thrown down the gauntlet to the scribes and
Pharisees in their citadel, John had continued
to war against their spirit in the outskirts of Judea. He had
removed his preaching-place from the ford at Bethabara to
Enon, near Salim.f The location of the latter place is in
volved in uncertainty. No less than four different sites are
assigned by different prominent geographers. We accept
the hypothesis of Robinson, which places it near the north
eastern border of Judea, in the vicinity of Samaria. Here
Jesus joined him shortly after the events recorded in the
last chapter.
The feast of the Passover occurs in spring. During the
summer the two cousins labored together. Their teachings
were not the same, but their spirit was not inharmonious;
and, if compared with the genial spirit of Jesus, the doctrines
of John seem to savor of too stern a legalism, it is only as
the month of March, which bridges between the old and the
new dispensations in nature, retains something of the bleak-
* John iii., 22-36 ; iv., 1-46.
t " John was baptizing in Enon, near to Salim. " — John iii. , 23. Whether
we accept the theory of Van der Velde as given in Smith's Bib. Diet., article
"Salim," which locates it within the borders of Samaria, and near to Galilee,
or that of Robinson (Bib. Researches, iii., 333), which locates it a little south
east of Mount Gerizim, or that of Barclay (City of the Great King, p. 564),
which places it five miles northeast of Jerusalem, it would be in Christ's
road to Galilee, and in neither case far out of his way in journeying toward
Jacob's well.

A.D. 31.] SECTARIANISM REBUKED. 127
ness of the winter that is past while preparing for the sum
mer that is to follow. The spirit of denominationalism is no
modern development. We shall meet in our history the be
ginning of it, and shall have occasion to notice how prompt
ly Jesus always rebuked and repressed it. This spirit be
gan to manifest itself, not between the leaders, but among
their followers. Jesus's popularity aroused the envy of some
of John's disciples. Christ's disregard of forms attracted the
notice and awakened the suspicions of the alert. For Jesus
baptized not.
This was not the worst, however. His disciples baptized
more converts than did John. Any heresy is more pardona
ble than success. Among themselves, and with the Phari
sees, who were perhaps inclined to hold the Baptist respon
sible for the supposed heresies of his cousin, the disciples of
John debated the question of purifying. To John they frank
ly told their complaints. "Rabbi, he that was with thee
beyond Jordan, to whom thou barest witness, behold, the
same baptizeth, and all men come to him !" It is not the last
time that theological controversy has been made a cover for
personal envy.
Jesus had too many inevitable conflicts before him to
court a needless one. In spite, therefore, of John's cordial
and renewed testimony to his Messiahship, he left Judea to
return again to his Galilean home. His road led through
Samaria. A simple incident on the journey opened the way
for his first preaching to the Gentiles.
The capital of Samaria, Sichem, called by the Jews deri
sively Sychar, i.e., liar or drunkard, is beautifully placed in a
pass in the mountains. Mount Ebal rises on the one side,
Mount Gerizim on the other. The verdure of the narrow
valley which intervenes is said to be unsurpassed in beauty
by any in the Holy Land. Historical reminiscences add to
the attractiveness of a scene for which nature has done so
much. Here the Lord first appeared to Abraham.* Here
* Gen. xii., 6.

128 THE WOMAN AT THE WELL. [Chap.X.
Jacob bought a piece of ground, and erected to the Almighty
his first altar.* Hither he sent his sons to find pasturage
for their flocks, and here Joseph sought them, though in
vain.f Here, complying with the command of Moses,}; Josh
ua, gathering the people of Israel after the conquest of Ca
naan, rehearsed to them the law, reminded them of its bless
ings and its curses, pointed to the mountains as everlasting
reminders of both, and built an altar of unhewn stone, cov
ered with plaster and inscribed with the law ; then bade
them farewell, and lay down to die.§ And here, after their
long pilgrimage in the wilderness was ended, the Israelites
brought the bones of Joseph, and buried them in land that
belonged to his father Jacob. || Among the traditions which
invested this spot with peculiar romantic interest was one
that Jacob had dug a well in his own land, near the site of
the city of Shechem. The well remains, and is pointed out
to the traveler to the present day.
All these sacred associations were, however, more than
neutralized to the Jew by the subsequent history of the place.
Nearly a thousand years before the commencement of the
Christian era the ten tribes had seceded from the Jewish na
tion, and, by dividing, had deprived it of its power, and ren
dered it an easy prey to subsequent conquerors. Politically,
the destruction of the Jewish Commonwealth may be traced
to the successful secession of Israel under Jeroboam. A wily
and unprincipled politician, he perceived that a united Church
would be very apt to reunite a dissevered people. By mo
narchical decrees, therefore, he rescinded the provision of the
law requiring all the males to go thrice a year to Jerusalem,
established a new and idolatrous worship in place of the
Temple service, and organized a new priesthood to conduct
it, From his day, Israel, deprived of the law and the Tem
ple, steadily but rapidly degenerated. The throne whieh
Jeroboam established was occupied by a succession of des-
* Gen. xxxiii., 18-20. t Gen. xxxvii., 12. { Deut. xxvii, , 4, 8.
§ Josh, viii., 30-85 ; xxiv., 1-25. || Josh, xxiv., 32.

Dec, A.D. 31.] THE SAMARITANS. 129
pots, among whom Ahab, of infamous memory, and Jezebel,
his yet more infamous wife, possess a bad pre-eminence.*
At length, as explained in a previous chapter, Israel was
carried away captive by the Assyrians, and the land was par
tially repopulated by colonies from the land of its conquerors.
Suffering, as all new colonies do, from the hazards of an un
known country ; believing, in the spirit of the age, that it was
necessary to propitiate the favor of the gods of the land they
occupied, they invoked the aid of Jewish priests, some of
whom were accordingly sent to marry the religion of Moses
to that of Assyria, the worship of Jehovah to that of Baal.
A nation of time-servers, the Samaritans thenceforth avail
ed themselves of their double origin. When, in the mutations
of war, Judaism was in the ascendency, they claimed to be
Jews ; when it was in disfavor, they asserted that they were
heathen. In the rebuilding of Jerusalem ' refused a part,f
and frustrated in their attempt to prevent its completion,!
they constructed on Mount Gerizim a rival temple to that on
Mount Moriah. Shechem became the rival of Jerusalem,
and Samaria the Texas of Palestine, where all violators of
Jewish law found an easy refuge from offended justice.§
Hence political animosity, religious rancor, race prejudice,
and personal scorn for a really degenerate race, combined to
constitute a hate the bitterness of which time has done noth
ing to allay. To the present day Jew and Samaritan will
have no dealings with each other. Of these Samaritans, one
hundred and fifty, still worshiping in a little synagogue at
the foot of Mount Gerizim, are all that are left — "the oldest
and the smallest sect in the world."||
It was the month of December. '-•¦f The farmers were just
* For the history of this secession and its consequences, see 1 Kings xii.
t Ezra iv., 2-5. { Neh. iv., 1-6. § Josephus, Ant, xi., 8, § 6.
|| Stanley, Sinai and Palestine, ch. v., p. 236.
1f So Ellicott and Andrews. At the same time, there is some uncertainty
whether Christ's statement, " Say not ye, There are four months, and then
cometh harvest?" is significant of the season, or is a quotation of a proverbial
expression. See Alford, in loco.

130 THE WOMAN AT THE WELL. [Chap. X.
putting in the plow or casting the seed into the open fur
rows. The fruits of the fall had been gathered, the trees
were bare of leaves, when Jesus, with a few companions, bid
ding farewell to John, whom he was never to see again, trav
eled the road which, leading over the hill-country from Jeru
salem to Galilee, passes through the heart of Samaria, by its
capital and chief city. About noon he reached Jacob's well.
Wearied with the walk, he sat down to rest, while his disci
ples went into the neighboring city to replenish their scanty
stock of provision.
The well of Palestine was and still is a romantic and sacred
spot. It constituted a valuable property. It was often a
subject of fierce contention. In times of war, even among
the barbarous tribes of the East, to destroy a well was a vio
lation of the laws of war. When near a town, it afforded a
gathering-place for the inhabitants, who came to draw usu
ally in the cool of the evening. In this respect it was to the
Jewish town what a post-office is to a New England village — ¦
a sort of social centre. These wells were often deep. Some
times a bucket and sweep were attached ; sometimes a flight
of steps led down within the well, which was large, to the
surface of the water. The latter was the case in Jacob's
well. While Jesus was sitting here, a woman came out from the
city to draw water. This was part of her domestic duties.
The hour was unusual. But she was a woman of known evil
character. The divorce laws of Samaria were wofully lax.
She had left one husband after another, and was now living
with a paramour, without even the poor forms of Samaritan-
law to shield her from reproach. Perhaps she desired to es
cape the observation of the multitude that flocked to the
well at evening.
Jesus's attempt to enter into conversation with her she at
first repels. His simple request for water she scornfully re
fuses. " How is it that thou, being a Jew, askest drink of me,
who am a woman of Samaria ?" His offer of spiritual life un-

THE WOMAN AT THE WELL.

Dec, A.D. 31.] CHRIST A CONVERSATIONALIST. 133
der the symbol of living water she meets with badinage.
"Thou hast nothing to draw with, and the well is deep;
whence, then, hast thou that living water ?" His reiterated
offer, " Whosoever shall drink of the water that I shall give
him shall never thirst" she repels with jeer. " Give me this
water, that I thirst not, neither come hither to draw."* Then
he breaks in upon the conversation with a seeming irrelevant
request : " Go, call thy husband, and come hither." In vain
she denies that she has a husband. By a single sentence he
discloses his knowledge of her life. " Thou hast had five hus
bands, and he whom thou now hast is not thy husband," and
so extorts from her the confession, " Thou art a prophet," and
prepares the way for the announcement to her of his Messiah-
ship. She essays to change the conversation from a tone too
personal to be comfortable by bringing up the standing con
troversy between Jew and Samaritan as to place of worship ;
not the last time that men have endeavored to evade the
plain duty of repentance for acknowledged sin by discussing
doubtful theological problems ; and she listens in a far differ
ent spirit to Christ's response, " Neither in this mountain, nor
yet at Jerusalem, shall ye worship the Father." The theo
logical controversy is of the shell, not the substance. " The
true worshiper shall worship the Father in spirit and in truth,
for the Father seeketh such to worship him." Her request,
made in sarcasm, " Give me this water, that I thirst not," he
has already begun to answer in earnest.
The coming of the disciples breaks, off the conversation.
She hurries into the city in such haste that she not only quite
forgets the original request of Jesus for a drink, but leaves
her water-pot behind her. Her exaggerated story of Jesus's
disclosures of her life awakens the curiosity of her acquaint-
* That this request is a serious one is asserted by some commentators.
But it seems more consonant with the character of the interview to suppose
it to he a willful misunderstanding, as in the case of Nicodemus (John iii.,
4), rather than the literal interpretation of a prosaic nature, as in Matt, xvi.,
7, and Luke xxii., 38. ;

134 THE WOMAN AT THE WELL. [Chap. X.
ances ; a number come out to see this new Rabbi of whom
such wonderful things are told, and the result is an invitation
to remain and preach in their city, an invitation which he ac
cepts without hesitation.
Jesus's conversational power is quite as remarkable a feat
ure of his ministry as his power of public address. His con
versation with the woman at the well is worthy the careful
study of every disciple who desires to acquire facility in per
sonal religious conversation, especially of every pastor and
Sabbath-school teacher. His condescension in entering into
the conversation at all has been often noted, and wisely. The
Jewish Rabbis deemed it unworthy of their dignity to in
struct a woman. Not one of them would have been seen
conversing with a Samaritan. Few, even of modern minis
ters, would have ventured to address religious conversation
to an adulteress. That a king, whose mission was the estab
lishment of a universal empire, should spend his time in con
verse with such a woman, little consorts with popular ideas
of kingly dignity. But Jesus never suffered dignity to stand ¦
between him and the common people. His affability and ac
cessibility were characteristic. Something of this spirit has
often characterized the truly great, and endeared their names
to the communities to which they were given : Frederick the
Great, Alfred the Great, Napoleon, and, not least of all, Abra
ham Lincoln.
Christ's method is equally noteworthy. Between a Jew
and a Samaritan there was little in common. Christ finds
somewhat in the universal wants of humanity, and so opens
the conversation, not first by offering instruction to her, but
by that surest method of access to a woman's heart, appeal
ing to her generosity for a favor. Her refusal does not re
buff him. On the contrary, he makes it the text by a transi
tion, sudden, but not abrupt, for spiritual discourse. To his
mind every thing in nature is symbolical of spiritual truth.
The lily of the field is significant of trust. The city on the
hill is an illustration of the power of Christian example. The

Dec, A.D. 31.] CHRIST'S METHOD. 135
leaven in the dough is a type of the moral forces that regen
erate society. The wine in the cup reminds of the vine and
its branches, and so of the Christian's dependence on his Lord.
To such a mind the transition from the commonest objects to
the deepest spiritual truths and experiences is never abrupt.
It is easy for him to pass from a request for water to instruc
tion respecting the spiritual needs and supply of the soul.
He patiently persists in spite of her spirit of badinage. At
length, by a single stroke, he pierces her conscience. But he
does not repeat the wound. He wishes not to compel the
open confession of her shame, but only to arouse her own self-
condemnation ; and, leaving his words to work their own re
sult, he suffers her to change the conversation at her will.
Not less remarkable, certainly, is the moral power which he
puts forth by his mere personal presence. That Christ should
have condescended to converse with a Samaritan has seemed
wonderful. To me it seems more wonderful that the Samar
itans should have condescended to converse with Christ.
Yet not only this : so were they impressed by the air and
bearing of this seeming Jewish Rabbi, that, despite all their
intense prejudice, they besought him to remain and preach,
the first and only instance in which a Samaritan company has
been known to request religious instruction of their heredi
tary foes, the Jews.
The effect of his two days' preaching was marked, and il
lustrates the meaning of his metaphorical prophecy, " One
soweth and another reapeth. I send you to reap that where
on other men labored." Among the earliest of the Christian
churches was that which was organized in Samaria, first un
der the preaching of Philip, and officially recognized by the
council at Jerusalem through Peter and John,* the latter of
whom, at least, was of the number that marveled that Jesus
talked with a Samaritan woman. And among the earliest
Christian apologists and martyrs was that Justin, surnamed
philosopher for his learning and martyr for his death, who
* Acts viii., 5,14-17.

136 THE WOMAN AT THE WELL. [Chap. X:
was born one half a century later, near the very spot where
Jesus thus planted the seeds of the first Gentile Church.
Perhaps it was the cordial reception which this Samaritan
city gave to him, driven out of Judea by the machinations
of the Pharisees, and soon to be mobbed in his own city of
Nazareth by his neighbors and the friends of his youth, that
later suggested to him the parable of that good Samaritan
who succored the wounded and half-dead traveler that silent
ly appealed to priest and Levite for compassion and assist
ance, but in vain.
After two days' sojourn in Samaria Jesus proceeded to
Galilee, He had there now no fixed home. Joseph was
dead.* Mary had left the old home at Nazareth, but had not
yet established a new one at Capernaum. f At Cana, how
ever, Christ had friends who would give him a warm welcome.
To Cana he repaired. The Sabbatic year had drawn to its
close. The disciples, therefore — one of whom, at least, had
accompanied him to Jerusalem — returned to their usual av
ocations. They had, as yet, no suspicion of the life-work
which was before them. Christ was not yet ready to enter
upon his. Not till the bud drops can the fruit appear. And
John the Baptist's imprisonment, the accepted signal for the
commencement of Christ's public and continuous ministry,
had not yet taken place. A single and singular miracle add
ed, however, to Christ's metropolitan reputation, and aided
in preparing the public mind to receive him with honor, and
listen to his teachings with attention.
* This, at least, is universally surmised from the change of residence, and
the fact that his name is never subsequently mentioned, and that Mary is
treated as the head of the household from this time.
t Johnii., 12.

A.D. 32.] MIRACLE AT CANA. 137

CHAPTER XI.
THE GREAT TEACHER.
• T is about six or eight hours from Capernaum to
Cana.* At the former city resided an officer of the
court of Antipas, whose son lay dangerously ill with
one of the fevers common to that locality. He heard
rumors of this new prophet of the Lord, who was
bringing back the days when God walked evidently among
men. Not unreasonable is the surmise that the fishermen-
disciples, returning to their boats by the Sea of Galilee, car
ried thither the story of his unrecorded miracles at Jerusa
lem. This officer determined to apply to Jesus for aid. He
went in person to Cana, and besought Christ to come down
and heal his son. This Jesus declined to do. He was not a
physician, subject to the summoning of patients. But he
promised him that the son should recover, and the father, re
luctantly returning — lingering, indeed, until the next day,
hoping, perhaps, for some farther and more tangible assur
ance than a word — then learned that, at the very hour of his
interview with Jesus, the fever left his son.f It is sometimes
said that Jesus's mission was chiefly among the poor. It
was so, because the poor chiefly gave him welcome to their
circle. But he was no less ready to offer instruction to Nic
odemus than to the Samaritan woman ; to heal the noble
man's son than the penniless, outcast leper.
This event produced a profound impression on the com
munity. It attached this officer and his family at once to
Christ. J He is even conjectured to be the Chuza, steward of
Herod, whose wife accompanied and ministered to Jesus.§
* See supra, ch. viii., p. 104, note. t John iv., 46-54.
X John iv., 53. § Luke viii., 3.

138 THE GREAT TEACHER. [Chap. XI.
It obtained for Christ influential friends, and may thus have
contributed to his subsequent decision to make Capernaum
his home. It certainly opened the way for his ministry
there. From one of the better class of Roman tax-gatherers
in that city he subsequently called one of his apostles, and
the writer of one of his biographies.* And this miracle,
known through the nobleman's influence throughout the
court, may have been one secret of the faith of that centu
rion of the same town who subsequently asked of Christ to
heal his servant, and avowed his belief that he could do it
by a word, without entering his house.f
Now it was that the rumor ran through Palestine that the
stern old prophet John had met the prophet's 'fate. The"
voice that had spoken with such majesty of utterance in the
wilderness, and whose echoes had been caught up and re
peated through all the Holy Land, was hushed and silent in
the castle of Machserus. Unable to brook the denunciations
of this modern Elijah, who, like his God, knew no distinction
of persons, Herod had played the part of a second Ahab, his
wife a very second Jezebel, and had silenced by imprison
ment the voice of condemnation he could not gainsay. J
But, though the voice was silenced, the message was not,
* Luke v., 27 ; Matt, ix., 9.
t "This miracle, the healing of the nobleman's son, is wrongly regarded
by Ewald, De Wette, and Baur as identical with the healing of the centuri
on's servant (Matt, viii., 5-13; Luke vii., 1-10). The differences between
the two miracles are radical. One is wrought at Cana, the other at Caper
naum. On the one hand we have an officer of the king, » Jew by birth ; on
the other, a Roman centurion. In the former case the request is preferred
on behalf of a son ; in the latter, of a servant. Lastly, while the father en
treats Jesus to come into his house, the centurion deprecates his doing so. "
— Pressensi's Life of Christ, p. 338, note. To this Trench well adds that
" the heart and inner kernel of the two narratives is different." The noble
man, weak in faith, thinks Christ's presence is necessary, and importunes
haste lest the child die ; the centurion, strong in faith, rightly thinks a word
from Jesus enough. To the same general effect are Augustine, Alford,
Lange, and Ebrard.
X See, for account of John's imprisonment, its cause and its result, chap.
xxi. : The Prisoner at Machasrus.

A.D. 32.] THE BAPTIST IMPRISONED. 139
and could not be. The same rumor that bore the news of the
Baptist's imprisonment, carried the intelligence that among
the hills of Galilee a greater prophet had arisen to take his
place ; for, emerging at last from that retirement which he
was to know no more till he found it in the tomb, Jesus be
gan to go throughout all Galilee, preaching the coming of
the kingdom of God.*
* The chronology of this period of Christ's life is involved in great obscu
rity. John alone gives any account of Christ's early Judean ministry, includ
ing the expulsion of the traders from the Temple, the conversation with Nic
odemus and with the Samaritan woman, and the second visit to Jerusalem,
when the paralytic was healed at the Pool of Bethesda. The synoptists alone
give any account of his early Galilean ministry (if we except the miracle at
the marriage in Cana). Their explanation as to the commencement of his
public ministry also differs. "When Jesus heard that John was cast into
prison he departed into Galilee," is the statement of the synoptists (Matt, iv.,
12 ; Mark i., 14). " When, therefore, the Lord knew how the Pharisees had
heard that Jesus made and baptized more disciples than John, he left Judea
and departed again into Galilee," is John's statement (John iv., 1, 3). Some
of the harmonists have supposed that both reasons co-operated, and that Je
sus remained in Judea until John's imprisonment. So Townsend, Ellicott,
Robinson, and Ebrard. This, however, does not accord with John iv. , ] , 3,
which certainly leaves the impression that the Baptist was still baptizing dis
ciples when Jesus left. Others have supposed that John was not imprisoned
till after Christ's second visit to Jerusalem, recorded in John v. , which they
suppose to have preceded his Galilean ministry. So Andrews and Pressense.
But Christ's reference to John at the time of that visit (John v. , 32-35) in
dicates that the Baptist was already imprisoned, and the whole tone of the
controversy between Jesus and the Pharisees is such as only characterized a
later stage of Christ's ministry. While, then, the chronological order is very
uncertain, we prefer to suppose that John was apprehended after Jesus left
Enon, but before he commenced his public preaching in Nazareth. If, 'as
seems probable, Cana was temporarily his home, he may have remained there
quietly meanwhile, his disciples having returned to their former avocations.
We adopt, therefore, the following order as best satisfying the conditions of
the different narratives : Jesus goes up to Jerusalem to inaugurate his minis
try there (John ii., 13-25 ; iii., 1-21) ; after the Passover, joins the Baptist
in Enon (John iii. , 22-36) ; leaves Judea to avoid threatened controversy,
going through Samaria on his way, and arriving at the residence either of his
mother or some friends in Cana, where he heals the sick child by a word
(John iv.); hears of John's imprisonment, which takes place about this time
(Matt, iv., 12 ; Mark i., 14); commences his Galilean ministry, marked, if not
inaugurated by his sermon at Nazareth (Luke iv., 16-31); returns to Caper
naum (Matt, iv., 13-16 ; Luke iv., 31), where he calls four disciples (Luke v.,

140 THE GREAT TEACHER. [Chap. XI.
He arrived at the same result as John — the production in
the hearts of the people of repentance for their sins. But
his method was characteristically different. John the Bap
tist attempted to drive men from sin by warning them of
coming judgment. Christ endeavored to attract them to a
higher life by proclaiming emancipation through the Gospel.*
John withdrew wholly from the Church whose corruptions
he denounced. Christ commenced his ministry in the Tem
ple, and continued it in the synagogues. Their structure and
form of service gave him peculiar facilities for reaching the
ear of the common people.
The history of the origin of the Jewish synagogue is in
volved in great uncertainty. Doubtless from the earliest
times there had been other meetings for religious worship
than those which took place in the Temple, but they had
been occasional, irregular, and unofficial. During the captiv
ity, however, the Temple service was of necessity given up.
The people were accustomed to meet for prayer and instruc
tion at the houses of the prophets, f The reading and exposi
tion of the Sacred Writings constituted the characteristic
feature of their simple services. Taunted by their brethren
at Jerusalem with their apparent abandonment by God, to
whose Temple they could no longer resort, their prophet re
plied that God was their sanctuary whenever and wherever
they assembled in his name. J Thus, years before Christ, God
had prepared the way for that teaching of the universality of
the divine presence which is the foundation of the Chris
tian Church.
When the people returned to Palestine they brought with
them these conventicles, to which they had become greatly
attached. They gradually organized them more perfectly.
1-11), and whence he continues his ministry throughout Galilee (Mark i.,
38, 39; Matt, iv., 23-25), until he goes up to Jerusalem to attend the un
known feast mentioned in John v.
* See Matt, iv., 17 ; Mark i., 15, as interpreted by Luke iv., 17-21.
t Ezek. xiv., 1 ; xx., 1 ; xxxiii., 31. 4 Ezek. xi., 15, 16.

A.D. 32.]. THE SYNAGOGUE. 141
Buildings were erected. Officers to supervise the services
were appointed. Forms of prayer were instituted. A regu
lar selection of scriptures for every Sabbath was made. The
hereditary rivalry between priest and prophet repeated itself,
and led the Pharisaic party to make much of the synagogue,
as the Sacerdotal party still made much of the Temple.
There was at least one established in every considerable
town. In the larger places there were frequently several.
Even in the smaller villages, a consecrated spot, a place of
prayer, afforded a substitute therefor. The Jewish Rabbis
assert that there were over four hundred and fifty in Jerusa
lem. Recent investigations have exhumed the ruins of some
of these synagogues. Many of them appear to have been
ornate and costly buildings, on which considerable expendi
ture had been lavished.
The synagogue fulfilled a threefold function in Judaism.
It was the centre of civilization in the little community. It
constituted, as we have already said,* the village school,
where a Jewish Rabbi gathered the children of the village for
instruction, if committing to memory the precepts of the law
and the commentaries of the doctors can be dignified by such
a name. It was also a court of justice. Its officers were
local judges. Trials were had within its walls,f and the con
demned were even scourged there.J But its chief function
was public worship and religious instruction. Thrice a week,
and three times on the Sabbath, it was opened for this pur
pose. Its service, in form, was an admixture of our modern
church and our modern prayer-meeting. There was a ru
bric. Lessons for the day were appointed as in the Episco
pal Church. A particular officer, called " the ruler of the
synagogue," conducted the service. But he himself did not
always read the appointed Scriptures, and seldom comment
ed on them. For this he selected some from the audience
before him. Any Rabbi might ordinarily avail himself of
the synagogue service to offer to the people his comments
*Ch.v.,p.79. t Luke xii., 11; xxi., 12. % Matt, x., 17; Mark xiii., 9.

142 THE GREAT TEACHER. [Chap. XI.
upon the Word of God. Of this opportunity Jesus was ac
customed to avail himself,* as did his apostles after him.f
Christ is sometimes represented as withdrawing from the
Church of his day. This is a mistake. Corrupt as it was,
he labored in and with it until it expelled him.
Very little information is afforded us of Christ's personal
appearance, or his methods in public speaking. It is a sig
nificant fact that no one of his biographers has attempted, in
the remotest degree, a description of his form and features.
There are clear indications that he did not possess a robust
constitution. J But in a frame which was perhaps slight,
there burned an unquenchable flame. He possessed, in a re
markable degree, that mysterious personal magnetism which
is the secret of all true oratory. No sooner did he rise to
speak than all eyes were fastened on him.§ He thus secured
the attention of his audience from the outset. He spoke
with an ease and grace which seemed marvelous to those
who knew him only as the son of the carpenter. || Yet he ex
ercised at times a wondrous moral power. Before his eyes
the traders in the Temple quailed, and the mob at Nazareth-^f
and at Jerusalem** opened to give him free passage through.
The officers who were sent to take him at a later period in
the Temple left him untouched, testifying — never man spake
as this man.ff The soldiers in the Garden of Gethsemane
fell back when he turned, questioning and indignant, though
mild, upon them.JJ This moral power already manifested
itself. The common people, comparing his teaching with
that of the scribes, noted the difference, saying, He speaks
with authority. §§ Evidently in his presence every one felt
* Matt, xii., 9 ; Luke iv., 16 ; John vi., 59 ; xviii., 20.
t Acts xiii. , 5 ; xiv. , 1 ; xviii. , 4.
X The journey which left his disciples fresh enough to go into the city for
provisions exhausted him. — John iv., 6, 8. Under the cross which the con
demned carried to the place of execution, he sank, unable to complete the
task. — Matt, xxvii., 32; Mark xv., 21 ; Luke xxiii., 26. Compare also
Isaiah liii., 2. § Luke iv., 20. || Luke iv., 22.
f Luke iv., 30. ** John x., 39. ft John vii., 32, 45, 46.
XX John xviii., 6. §§ Mark i., 22 ; Luke iv., 32.

A.D. 32.] CHRIST'S STUDIES. 143
that he was before no ordinary man. Behind his words was
a powerful personality. The teacher was more than the les
sons which he taught.
He did not impress the common people as a learned man.
Of the learning of the schools, he perhaps, humanly speak
ing, knew little. For that learning he cared nothing. He
openly condemned it.* As the gardener sometimes gathers
in spring the dead leaves that he may burn them, Jesus
raked away these traditions of the past that he might get at
the roots of life. He touched them, if at all, with the torch
of a sharp sarcasm that set them in a blaze. But he was
well versed in the three books which make up God's library
on the earth — Life, Nature, and the Scriptures.
From his mother he had acquired familiarity with the lat
ter. He knew them thoroughly. He quoted from them oft
en, and referred to them by indirection yet more frequently.
He pointed to them as witnesses to his mission.f He con
founded his antagonists by new disclosures of their hidden
meaning.^ He was equally familiar with the law, the poe
try, and the prophecies.
Those of his disciples who, in this respect, have most close
ly resembled him, have always possessed the greatest moral
power over mankind. From the days of King Josiah§ to
those of Luther, every reformation of the Church has been
wrought by the resurrection of the entombed Word of
God. Nature no less lay open to him. He loved her as the min
ister of God's mercies and the revelator of his truth. To him
all nature was a sublime parable, into whose significance he
gives to our duller vision an occasional glimpse ; and we
know that there are meanings yet beyond, which he has not
disclosed. The hieroglyphics of nature he perpetually inter
preted. The flower that bloomed at his feet,|| the bird that
* Matt, xv., 3-9 ; Mark vii., 5-13. t John v., 39.
X Matt, xxii., 31, 32, 42-45 ; Mark ii., 25, 26 ; Matt, xii., 5-7.
§ 2 Kings xxii., 8-13 ; xxiii. U Matt, vi., 28, 29.
7

144 THE GREAT TEACHER. [Chap. XI.
caroled its springy lay above his head,* the storm that hurtled
in the air,f assumed a new significance, and, voiced by him,
spoke with new language. He possessed that intuitive ap
prehension of moral truths that gives to physical phenomena
their soul, which is the secret of all metaphor, and the power
of all true poetry of nature.
Human life was his last, and, we may almost say, his best-
read book. " He knew what was in man."J With divine
intuition he pierced the disguise in which we all constantly
enwrap ourselves, and read the subtlest secrets of the soul
within. To him the still unsolved riddle of the ages, man,
was no enigma. Into the caskets, gold, silver, lead, in which,
as in those of Portia, that contained Bassanio's fate, the soul
lies oft concealed, he glanced with unerring vision, and read
the secret writing which alone gives it its true value. It
was this divine knowledge, which we only blunderingly ap
proximate by much observation and hard study, that gave
him such wondrous power over the hearts of men. In all his
controversies he never shelled concealed batteries at random,
as we often have to do. He knew who needed comfort, who
reproof. He knew how to puncture Nicodemus's pride, to
wring confession from the dissolute yet ill-satisfied woman
at the well, to expose the avarice that still clung to the rich
young noble, and forbade his winning in that race that de
mands of every competitor his unrobing.g With the events
of his times and with the occupations of his audiences he
made himself familiar. Life furnished him his most frequent
texts and his chief store-house of illustrations. He made
concurrent history enforce the truths he taught. The im
prisonment of John the Baptist afforded him a text for a dis
crimination between the covenant of law and the Gospel of
liberty. || The massacre of the Galileans gave point to a
brief but pungent exhortation to repentance.^ The attempt
ed deposition of Archelaus suggested one of his most signifi-
* Matt, vi., 26. t Matt, vii., 24-27. X John ii., 25. .
§ Matt, xix., 16-22. || Matt, xi., 7-15. If Luke xiii. , 1-5.

A.D. 32.] CHARACTERISTICS OF HIS DISCOURSES. 145
cant parables.* The common events of every-day experience
were equally significant to him. He borrowed from the
merchant,f the fisherman, J the farmer,§ the court, || the com
monest avocations of the housekeeper.1^ Not till a later pe
riod, it is true, did he employ those matchless stories whose
pure but simple beauty is only enhanced by the truth which
they contain, as a beautiful face is made luminous by the soul
which speaks in the silent language of its changeful features.
But the characteristics of his later teaching throw back their
light upon the fundamental characteristics of this his earlier
ministry ; and, however variant in form, we know that in es
sence they were the same.
He rarely spoke in lengthy or formal discourse. Tried by
the laws which govern a modern orator, his brief but preg
nant sayings would not stand the test of scholastic criticism.
He delighted in apothegms, proverbs, brief and pithy sen
tences, and even startling paradoxes.** These cling to the
memory, which refuses to retain more elaborate expositions.
Repeated from age to age, they have become interwoven into
the very fabric of all literature. The oration, like a stately
tree infixed into the soil, furnishes its shade and fruit only to
the few who can gather about it. The proverb, like a single
seed wafted by the winds of heaven, even into other lands,
repeats itself in other generations, and in various climes and
multitudinous forms of speech.
His teaching was stimulating rather than informing. De
Quincey has divided literature into two classes — books of in
struction and books of power. The words of Christ were
words Of power. " The words that I speak unto you," said
he, '' they are spirit and they are life."ff He aimed not to dp
the world's thinking for it, but to make the world think for
* Luke xix., 12-28. Compare Josephus, Antiq., xvii., 9, § 3 ; xi.
t Matt, xiii., 45, 46. X Luke v., 10 ; Matt, xiii., 47-50.
§ Matt, xiii., 3-9, 24-30. || Luke xiv., 16-24. f Matt. xiii. , 33.
** Note, for example of this characteristic of his teaching, the Sermon on
the Mount. Matt, v., 10-12, 14, 29, 30, 44 ; vi., 3, 21, 24, 34 ; vii., 1, 7, 12,
20. tt John vi., 63. Compare Luke iv. , 32.

146 THE GREAT TEACHER. [Chap. XI,
itself. And, despite the many encomiums on ancient litera
ture, it is still true that, for the most part, the highest forms
of useful mental activity date from the days of Christ. Kaul-
bach, in his famous cartoon of the Reformation, has gathered
about the central figure of Martin Luther, with the open Bible
in his upraised hand, the poets, painters, discoverers, and phi
losophers whose combined toil has constructed this edifice in
which we live, which we call the civilization of the nineteenth
century. Around the luminous figure of the Great Teacher
might well be gathered nearly all who have combined to
emancipate the body from servitude, the mind from thral
dom, and the soul from superstition. Ary Scheffer has given
us Christos Consolator and Christos Remunerator. The por
trait of Christos Liberator is yet to be painted.
Of the matter of Jesus's discourses at this period of his
ministry, the evangelists have given us but little informa
tion ; enough, however, to indicate their general character.
Six hundred years before, during the long Babylonish cap
tivity, the prophets of God had kept alive the hopes of his
people by promising the coming of a kingdom which should
embrace all other kingdoms, and whose majesty time should
not decay, nor earthly power break.* That the Jews had in
terpreted this of temporal dominion, and had pictured them
selves the head of an empire outrivaling those of Cyrus and
Alexander, will not seem strange to any one who considers
that even to the present day there are many to whom the
phrase kingdom of truth is a mysticism. Jesus declared that
the time of which those prophets had spoken was fulfilled,
and the kingdom they foretold was at hand. He urged the
people to prepare for it by personal repentance of sin, and by
believing in the glad tidings he had come to proclaim, f
Rarely did he indicate either himself as the Messiah who was
to inaugurate and maintain this new empire, or attempt to
reveal the spirituality and universality which characterizes
* Dan. ii., 44 ; vii., 13, 14, 22, 27 ; Isa. ix., 6, 7 ; see also Micah iv., 7.
+ Mark i., 15.

A.D. 32.] REJECTION AT NAZARETH. 147
it. For the people were not yet prepared for this disclosure.
His audiences, accustomed to the dry dialectics of the schools,
were entranced by the teachings of one who applied the
prophecies of the ancient records to living issues, and, with a
heart warm from constant communion with his Father, ap
pealed directly to the heart and to the conscience. They
were proud of this Rabbi, whom they claimed as their own,
and who had already acquired a metropolitan reputation.*
They flocked to hear his new and striking interpretation of
the ancient prophecies. He found ready entrance to all the
synagogues. Wherever he went he was invited to read and
expound the Scriptures, f Wherever he spoke he was received
with applause. \
A single exception indicated how fickle were the populace,
how frail this popularity, and how the developed doctrine of
a Messianic kingdom, to which the Gentiles should be wel
come subjects, was to be received. In the course of his min
istry he went to Nazareth, where he had been brought up.
The lesson for the day wras the sixty-first chapter of Isaiah.
He read an extract from it, and sitting down, as was the cus
tom of the Jewish Rabbi in expounding the Scriptures, pro
ceeded to apply it to himself. " This day," said he, " is this
Scripture fulfilled in your ears. I have come to preach the
Gospel to the poor; to heal the broken-hearted; to preach
deliverance to the captives, and recovery of sight to the
blind ; to set at liberty them that are bound ; to preach the
acceptable year of the Lord."
The first impressions were favorable. But his quiet as
sumption of Messiahship offended some of the companions of
his youth. They were piqued by his claims. " This the Mes
siah ?" said they. Is not this Joseph's son ? They began to
indicate their dissent. The synagogue meeting was con
ducted in a manner much more free than our modern relig
ious services. The people were accustomed to interrupt — to
interrogate the speaker ; to express approval or dissent. Je-
* John iv., 45. t Matt, iv., 23 ; Mark i., 39. % Luke iv., 15.

148 THE GREAT TEACHER. [Chap. XL
sus perceived an indication on their part to demand some mi
raculous proof of his claim. But, though he was accustomed
to refer to his miracles as a testimony to the divinity of his
mission, he never degraded himself to the rank of a mere
wonder-worker by performing them on demand. Instead,
therefore, of complying with their wish, he declared to them
that he should be rejected of Israel that he might be preached
to the Gentiles. He reminded them that the divine blessing
of the despised heathen was no new or strange thing ; that
the God whose benefactions they imagined they monopolized
had, in the days of Elijah, passed by the many widows of Is
rael to feed a woman of Sarepta, and had left unhealed many
lepers in Israel to cure Naaman the Syrian. To have their
own Scriptures turned against themselves was more than they
could bear. Doubtless, to their prejudice, he seemed irrever
ently to pervert the Word of God to profane uses. Unable
to answer him, they responded with the customary argument
of falsehood — violence. They drove him out of the syna
gogue. They would have cast him down from a neighboring
precipice but that, by an exercise of that moral power by
which single men have sometimes quelled a mob, he passed
unharmed through the midst of them and went his way.*
This incident, however, did nothing to abate the general
popularity of Jesus. Rather the reverse. Other cities were
not quick to follow the example of one which had so ill a rep
utation as Nazareth. Unsuccessful persecution usually pro
motes the popularity of a public teacher. The people were
more anxious than ever to hear the man who had produced
so great a commotion among the Nazarenes. Christ prepared
to extend his ministry. He left the hill-country and took up
his residence in Capernaum. The synagogues could no longer
* Luke iv., 16-32. There is no assertion by the evangelist of any mira
cle, and, following the Gospel narrative, we neither doubt them when they
are described, nor assert them when they are not. If there was a miracle
here, it would seem to be the only case where Jesus exercised miraculous
power for his own benefit.

A.D. 32.] PERSONAL POWER. 149
hold his audiences. The Sabbath day was inadequate for his
instructions. Still continuing to expound the Scriptures in
the synagogue on the Sabbath, he began from this time to
add thereto field-preaching through the week.* Already his
fan was in his hand. Already, by the simple presentation of
the Gospel, he was beginning to separate the chaff from the
wheat. This popularity of Christ's preaching was not of that super
ficial character which attracts a crowd, but leaves unchanged
the life of the individual. Christ did not sweep his hand
across the wires of the heart merely to draw from the soul
the music of a momentary emotion. The man who changes
the current of being in a single life is more truly potent than
he who charms, but leaves unchanged many thousands. That
Jesus really laid hold of the secret forces of the character,
and, smelting over the raw material, recast the soul and life
in a new form, is indicated by a single significant incident
that occurred almost immediately after his arrival at Caper
naum. Walking out upon the shore of the Sea of Galilee, he came
upon his old friends, Andrew, Simon Peter, James, and John.
The father and brother of the latter were also with the party.
Fishermen by trade, they had plied all night their avocation,
unsuccessfully. They had left their boats, and were cleaning
their nets upon the shore. They welcomed Jesus warmly,
and, at his request, Simon left his work, and, getting into his
boat, pushed it a little from the beach, that Jesus might make
a pulpit of it from which to address the multitude who
thronged about him. Christ's service, cheerfully undertaken,
never entails loss. The discourse ended, Jesus proposed to
Simon to push out into deep water for a draught. Unex-
pectant of success, he complied, and was rewarded with so
great a quantity of fish that the net broke, and the overload
ed boat began to sink. The sermon on repentance which Je
sus had been preaching received in this incident new sanction.
*Lukev.,i. ,

150

THE GREA T TEA CHER.

[Chap. XI.

Peter expressed that conviction of sin which this pungent
discourse had before produced ; and, answering Christ's invi
tation to follow him and become fishers of men, these four
companions left their boats, their nets, and their ingathered
fish to Zebedee and his servants, to attach themselves hence
forth indissolubly to Christ's person. It is no transient emo
tion of startled wonder that Avorks such changes in life-plans
as this, and we need no other evidence that the external
miracle was but the outward sign of a moral power quite as
marked and wondrous.*
Henceforth the house of Simon Peter afforded to Jesus his
home,f for he had none of his own. J And of these four
friends, three — Peter, James, and John — became his most inti
mate companions ; witnesses alike of his transfigured glory
and his night of grief,§ and filling in his heart the niches va
cated by his unbelieving brethren.
* Matt. iv. , 1 8-22 ; Luke v. , 1 -11 . t Luke iv. , 38.
X Matt, viii., 20 ; Luke ix., 58. It seems evident that he did not live with
his mother (Mark iii., 21, 31). § Matt, xvii., 1 ; xxvi., 37.

A.D. 32.] CAPERNAUM. 151

CHAPTER XII.
THE GREAT PHYSICIAN.
¦APERNAUM was chosen by Jesus, not as a de
lightful sylvan retreat, but as a centre for a life
of the most intense activity. It was no rural
village in a secluded dell. On the contrary, it
was one of the chief cities of Galilee, and in the
very heart of the most populous district of all Palestine.
For effect upon the nation and on other peoples, it was far
better located than Jerusalem.
About thirty-five miles,* as the bee flies, south of Mount
Hermon's snowy peak, lie the limpid waters of what would
be called in New England a pond, but which, in a land
whose entire territorial area is not equal to that of Vermont,
rejoiced under the somewhat pretentious title of the Sea of
Galilee. This lake, whose shores the feet of Jesus have made
sacred to innumerable hearts, is in size and shape somewhat
similar to Lake Lucerne in Switzerland, Loch Lomond in
Scotland, or our own Winnipiseogee.f Lying nearly seven
hundred feet below the surface of the Mediterranean, in a
valley excavated by volcanic action in the solid rock, and
entirely sheltered by surrounding hills, its climate is and its
productions were those of an almost tropical nature. The
palm-tree flourished along its banks, and grapes and figs rip
ened in the warm sunlight ten mouths in the year. Even its
fish are those of Central Africa. Upon the east the hills of
* Osborne's Palestine, p. 246.
t It is thirteen miles in length, from four to six miles in width, and one
hundred and sixty-five feet in depth in its deepest part. — Stanley, Sinai and
Palestine, p. 362 ; Osborne's Palestine, p. 248 ; Josephus, Wars, iii., 10, § 7.
7*

152

THE GREAT PHYSICIAN.

[Chap. XII..

THE SEA OF GALILEE.

naked rock crowd close to the water's edge, forbidding all
ease of access to the inhospitable wild which stretches, still
but little known, east of the valley of the Jordan. But on

A.D. 32.] GENNESARET. 153
the north the upper Jordan pours its waters into the sea
through a plain of great natural fertility, and on the west a
beach of varying width, well watered by springs from the
surrounding hills, afforded in the time of Christ a home for a
busy population, who rejoiced, if we may believe Josephus,
in a soil so fruitful that all sorts of trees could grow upon it,
and a climate the nature of whose air was so well mixed that
it agreed with all.* This beach widens toward the north
into a plain of considerable size,f into which four mountain
springs, whose affluence the heat of summer then seldom im
poverished, pour their fertilizing waters, and whose rich and
once well - cultivated soil produced a luxuriance of growth
that gave to it its name of the Garden of Princes, in Greek
Gennesaret. No less than six citiesj of considerable size were crowded
along thirteen miles of coast-line on this western and north
western shore. Upon this narrow strip of land, and on the
surrounding hill-sides, the most fertile farms and vineyards
of all Northern Palestine supported an industrious peasant
population. The innumerable fish with which its clear wa
ters abound afforded avocation for hundreds of fishermen,
and supplied the country for many miles around. Lying di
rectly on the route between Damascus and the Mediterrane
an, nearly all the commerce between the east and the west
passed along its northern shores, by whose waters the mod
ern caravan may still be seen wending its way, or halting for
rest and refreshment. From the southern end of the western
shore some warm mineral springs of real or fancied medicinal
virtue afforded to the Roman special advantage for his much-
esteemed bath, and constituted the Sea of Galilee the sum
mer resort of the wealthy, the watering-place of all Palestine.
* Josephus, Wars of the Jews, iii. ; x., 8.
t Four miles in length and three in breadth. — Rob. Lex., art. TtvvnaapeT.
X Tiberias, Magdala, Dalmanutha, Chorazin, Capernaum, and Bethsaida,
besides lesser villages, not one of which, Josephus asserts, contained less than
15,000 inhabitants. — Josephus, Wars, iii., 3, § 2. But allowance is to be
made for the arithmetic of Josephus.

154 THE GREA T PHYSICIAN. [Chap. XII.
A little north of these baths Herod Antipas had built the
city of Tiberias in honor of his master, the emperor of that
name, and placing here a palace for himself, added to the at
tractions of nature those which the court, the soldiery, and
the world of fashion afforded.
Along this shore, therefore, were gathered, not only in veg
etation representatives of various climes, but in humanity
representatives of every class and of various nationalities,
every one of whom became in Christ's hands a symbol of
the kingdom he had come to proclaim. Here the merchant
opened his pack and displayed his wares, and here Christ
compared the kingdom of heaven to a " merchantman seek
ing goodly pearls." Here the fishermen plied their avoca
tion, and within sight of their nets he likened the coming
kingdom to a " net that was cast into the sea and gathered
of every kind." On this plain of Gennesaret, on whose soil
still grows the tropical thorn-bush, and from whose surface
crops out here and there the underlying basaltic rocks, the
farmer turned the furrow and plowed in the seed, and in sight
of his field of waving grain Jesus told the story of the sower,
part of whose seed fell on the trodden path, part on the rocky
soil, part among thorns, part in the fertile earth.* Close at
hand was the palace of the Roman court, with all its military
pomp and its surrounding world of fashion. Perhaps within
sight of its walls was told the story of the marriage feast.f
Thus within the radius of a few miles were gathered all
classes — the farmer, the fisherman, the traveling merchant,
the half- heathen tax-gatherer, the Roman soldier, and the
courtesan that always follows the army and the court — all
of whom flocked to hear this new teacher, that spake as never
man spake, and from all of whom he gathered the nucleus of
his future church.
Little now remains to tell the story of the glory of the
* Matt, xiii., 45, 46, 47-50, 1-8.
f Luke xiv., 16-24. This parable was told probably in Perea, but perhaps
in the northern part, and not far from the shore of Lake Tiberias.

MAP OP GALILEE.

The topography of the Sea of Galilee is confessedly veiled in the greatest
obscurity. For reasons stated hereafter, I conclude that there was but one
Bethsaida, which was situated on the northern coast of the lake, near the
entrance of the waters of the Upper Jordan (see ch. xxii., and note there).
The invention of a second Bethsaida on the western coast has absolutely no
geographical authority to support it; nothing but a laudable attempt to har
monize narratives which are quite as well harmonized without this invention.
The location of Capernaum is more difficult. Robinson (Researches, vol.
iii., p. 290) places it at Khan el Minyeh; Thomson (Land and the Book,
vol. ii., p. 29), Andrews (Life of our Lord, p. 208), the Dean of Westminster,
and Professor Owen (Palestine Exploration Fund Report, July 23, 1866),*at
Tel Hum. With this agrees its name — Tel Hum, signifying mound or ruins
of Hum, Caper-Nahum, village of Nahum — and this is the view I have
adopted. For note on the probable site of the Mount of Beatitudes, see
chap. xvii.

156 THE GREAT PHYSICIAN. [Chap. XII.
past, enough only to give terrible significance to the warning
words of Jesus, " Woe unto thee, Chorazin — woe unto thee,
Bethsaida. It shall be more tolerable for Tyre and Sidon at
the day of judgment than for you."
An occasional caravan is all that is left of the commerce
between East and West which once enlivened these shores.
A single crazy fishing-boat is the solitary survivor of the
fleets that once covered the lake with theil white sails. Of
the cities which were once crowded along the western and
northwestern shore of this most populous centre of the most
populous district of Palestine, the town of Tiberias and the
wretched little village of Mejdel (ancient Magdala) are all
that are left. The ruins that strew the plain of Gennesaret
witness to the populousness of the past, but do not even clear
ly indicate the situations of the cities of Dalmanutha, Cho
razin, and Capernaum hid behind a veil, which thus far the
utmost attempts have been unavailing to pluck away. The
hum of industry no longer echoes among these now deserted
hills. The roads that Christ's feet pressed lie in ruins. Even
vegetation has felt the curse of God resting on it ; and, though
the plain of Gennesaret still retains something of its ancient
fertility, Nature has lost the ambition which Josephus poet
ically imputed to her. The fruits of the past are gone, and
the uncultivated hill-sides are as barren of vegetation as of
inhabitants. The traveler, cognizant of the past, and looking
on the still, clear, cold, limpid waters of the lake, which alone
retain their ancient glory, feels oppressed with a sense of des
olation and a realization of the terrible judgments of God,
which not even the awful grandeur and the romantic history
of the Dead Sea are able to produce.
But at the time of Christ this now solitary scene was the
heart of the most populous district and the busiest life in
Palestine. From it as a centre, accompanied at first by his
four friends, later by his twelve chosen disciples, Jesus pros
ecuted an itinerant ministry. With them he traveled in ever-
widening missionary circuits until they reached the coasts

A.D. 32.] ANCIENT THERAPEUTICS. 157
of Tyre and Sidon. By them accompanied, he preached in
all the towns and villages of Galilee the Gospel of the advent
of the kingdom of God.
This ministry to the soul was accompanied and greatly
aided by his ministrations to the body ; for Christ was not
merely preacher, he was also physician.
To the present day there is in the Orient but little knowl
edge of health and disease. Medicine is an inscrutable mys
tery. The modern physician traveling through the Holy
Land finds his tent surrounded by a crowd of wretched sick
who clamor piteously for relief. The missionary physician is
the most successful missionary ; and when the preacher is not
acquainted with medical science, he is most successful when
accompanied by a physician, who by his cures gains access
for his companion to many homes and hearts which would
otherwise be closed against him. In this respect, as in all
others, the modern church finds its highest success when it
follows most exactly the example of its Master.
In the time of Christ still less than now was medicine a
science. Nothing was known of anatomy ; no profane hand
had been guilty of dissecting the human frame. Less was
known of the interior of the human body than is now known
of the bowels of the earth. The nature of the vital organs
was chiefly matter of shrewd surmise, or wild and often ab
surd hypotheses. Of the recuperative processes of nature,
and the remedies with which God has in mercy strewed the
earth, comparatively nothing was known. Plasters, poultices,
bleeding, bathing, and anointing with oil were the current
remedies. Some few herbs, taken almost indiscriminately,
completed the pharmacy of the age. Almost any housewife
of to-day is a better physician than the wisest scientist in the
time of Christ.
What little medical knowledge the Jews possessed was
borrowed from surrounding nations, and they had but little
to lend. Moses, " learned in all the wisdom of the Egyp
tians," acquired perhaps some knowledge of their medical

158 THE GREAT PHYSICIAN. [Chap. XII.
art ; but in Egypt medical science was quite empirical, and,
monopolized for the most part by the priests, was artfully
connected with their superstitions to support their order and
enhance their power.* The Hebrews had acquired something
of Eastern notions (they can hardly be dignified by the term
knowledge) during the Babylonish captivity ; but in Baby
lon there was no medical science, nor even a medical profes
sion. The sick were placed upon the highway, and the pass
ers-by inquired of them their complaints, and informed them
of any remedies which they had chanced to know of as effica
cious in similar cases. Greece had given to Palestine some
thing of her philosophy with her language ; but though in
Greece, four hundred years earlier, Hippocrates had declared
some of the fundamental principles of medical science, he had
really done but little directly to render efficacious medical
skill. The temples of ^Esculapius still constituted at once the
hospital and the medical college of Greece ; the priests were
the physicians ; prayers, sacrifices, and incantations were the
chief remedies ; and accounts of cures that had been wrought,
inscribed on tablets and suspended in the temples, were the
literature of medical science.
But even from this scanty stock, the Jews, despising gentile
philosophy, had borrowed but little, and that unconsciously
and reluctantly. The laws of health were little known and
less obeyed. Disease was regarded by the superstitious as
the infliction of evil spirits, by the pious as the judgment of
God. The former resorted to wizards and necromancers, the
latter to fasting and prayer. Inasmuch as Nature is often
her own best cure, the latter remedy often proved efficacious.
Inasmuch as the imagination exercises a powerful influence
on the body, the former sometimes worked wondrous cures.
* Enfield's Hist, of Philosophy, i., p. 87. The fact that Moses styles the
physicians who embalmed Jacob the servants of Joseph, and that priests were
never slaves, does not militate against this view, as supposed by Brown (Jew
ish Antiq., ii., p. 470), because the physicians were divided into classes, and
the embalmers, dealing only with the dead, may not have belonged to the
priestlv order.

A.D. 32.] MEDICINE AND PHYSICIANS. 159
The physicians were for the most part medicine - men, who
-prescribed charms, amulets, and incantations more frequently
than the few and simple remedies which their empirical
knowledge afforded. A superstitious people regarded them
¦with awe, the pious with aversion mingled with dread. To
resort to them was esteemed, from the days of King Asa, an
act of impiety.*
At the same time, their ancient records reminded the Jewish
people of a time when God had worked marvelous cures in
answer to the prayers of pious men. They remembered the
Syrian captain, cleansed of his leprosy by the waters of the
Jordan ;f the sickness of Hezekiah stayed by the word of
Isaiah ;J the Shunamite's son restored to life at Elisha's re
quest^ They believed that the coming Messiah, with a re
stored theocracy, would restore these, visible signs of the
presence of God upon the earth. || They drew no such accu
rate distinction as we do between nature and the supernatu
ral. The Hebraic mind was at once poetic and devout. Their
religious faith attributed every operation of nature, and much
of human action, directly to the interposition of God. It may
at least be questioned whether their devout poetry was not
wiser than our skeptical philosophy. Our circumlocutions
they were unused to. " Providence," says the modern Church,
" is opening the door to China, India, and Roman Catholic
Europe." " The Word of the Lord," said the ancient Hebrew,
***¦ came unto Jonah, saying, ' Arise, go to Nineveh, that great
city, and cry against it, for their wickedness is come up before
me." "If Our scientific investigations into secondary causes
they were innocent of. Modern science explores the electric
al phenomena of the clouds, and analyzes and describes them.
Ancient piety was contented with the assertion, " The voice
of thy thunder was in the heaven. Thine arrows also went
* 2 Chron. xvi., 12. For a fuller account of medical science, if that may
be so termed which was then purely an empiricism, see authorities referred to
in the Appendix. t 2 Kings v., 1 -1 4. $2 Kings, xx. , 1 -1 1 .
§2Kings, iv., 17-37. „ || John vii., 31. t Jonah i., 2.

160 THE GREAT PHYSICIAN. [Chap. XII.
abroad."* At a time when thus all phenomena were attrib
uted to divine interposition, the language of a devout recog
nition of God was the language of common life, and disease
and health were especially accounted a part of the divine sys
tem of rewards and punishments, it is not strange that mirac
ulous cures were accepted with a less questioning faith than
is possible in the present age of philosophical and skeptical
scrutiny. The correctness of that faith it is not our purpose
to consider. The discussion of the supernatural belongs to
the theologian, not to the historian. To. the theological treat
ises, therefore, we refer such of our readers as wish to inves
tigate the grounds of the Christian's faith in the Christian
miracles, f
This work assumes throughout the historic credibility of
the Gospel narratives. It is certain that no other hypothesis
is consistent with such an assumption than that which attrib
utes to Jesus supernatural powers. No other was suggested
till long after his death. That he possessed such powers was
admitted as incontrovertible by the Jews in their discussions
in the Sanhedrim. J It was not denied by the heathen in their
arguments against Christianity. The very endeavor of his
foes to avoid the effect of his miracles is a concession of their
belief that he performed them. The Pharisees attributed
them to Beelzebub, the prince of devils ;§ Celsus to magic ;||
the earlier Jewish Rabbis to his possession of the secret in
effable name by virtue of which they believed such miracles
could be wrought.'f Nor was it till the third century after
* See David's description of the thunder-storm, Ps. lxxvii. , 1 6-1 8.
t For a discussion of the intrinsic possibility of miracles, see Bushnell's
Nature and the Supernatural ; for the best definition and description of those
which Christ wrought, see Trench on the Miracles, Preliminary Essay ; for a
brief but admirable presentation of the modern question, and especially for a
consideration of the historical evidences of the Christian miracles, see The
Evidences of Christianity in the Nineteenth Century, by Rev. Albert Barnes,
chap, v., and Appendix. X John xii., 42 ; xi., 47. § Matt, xii., 24.
|| Trench on the Miracles, Preliminary Essay, chap. v. , § 2.
IT Baden Powell on Evidences of Christianity, Essays and Reviews, p. 131,
note.

A.D. 32.] CHRIST'S MIRACLES. 161
his death that Hierocles first attempted to call in question
the before undisputed fact that Jesus exercised supernatural
powers and wrought supernatural cures.
It is certain that the account of those cures as given in the
Gospels can not be explained by reference to any processes
of nature with which we are acquainted.* It is true that Je
sus sometimes, though rarely, employed some of the simple
remedies of his day, as did his disciples after him. Clay
mixed with saliva was a popular salve, f The Pool of Siloam
was supposed to possess healing virtues.! Anointing with
oil was a remedy in frequent use.§ The touch of the hand is
even now sometimes employed in what is popularly known
as animal magnetism;! a form of remedy which, however it
has fallen into the hands of charlatans, science can no longer
wholly ignore. If But, for the most part, Christ employed no
medicines. It is true, also, that some disorders are so far subject to the
will of the patient that they are curable by a strong moral
influence acting upon the system through the mind and
brain. Such is the case with hysteria, some forms of paraly
sis, and more rarely with epilepsy. Lunacy, in its milder as
pects and earlier stages, can often be temporarily calmed,
though rarely, if ever, radically cured, by a mere word of
command. But such is not the case with the diseases which
* Thus, for example, Dr. Schenckel, who seems to be desirous to retain be
lief in the Gospel narratives, and yet who seems to deny the possibility of
miracles, supposes that the leper was probably substantially cured when he
came to Jesus ; attributes the healing of the centurion's servant, whom he
confounds with the nobleman's son, to "extraordinary mental excitement;"
the cure of the demoniacs to the "pure power of his (Christ's) Spirit," and
the healing of the woman of an issue of blood to " the excitement of religious
feeling."— Schenckel's Character of Jesus, vol. i., p. 120, 165, 181, 183. Even
more extraordinary is the suggestion that the water was magnetized which
the guests took for wine, and that the five thousand, being spiritually satisfied
by Christ's truth, found thereafter sufficient food in such supplies as they pos
sessed, which seems to be intimated as an explanation even by Lange.—
Lange's Life of Christ, vol. ii. , p. 139, 140. t John ix. , 6.
X Ibid., ix., 7. § Mark vi., 13. || Matt, ix., 29 ; Luke iv., 40.
t See Quarterly Journal of Psychological Medicine, Oct., 1868.

162 THE GREAT PHYSICIAN. [Chap. XIL
Christ for the most part treated — deep-seated mania,* malari
ous fever,f chronic paralysis,! congenital epilepsy,§ long-con
tinued ophthalmia, || or leprosy in any of its forms. **f Twice,
at least, he healed patients by a word whom he had never
seen, and who were at a distance from him ;** and on three
occasions he restored even the dead to life.ff It is in vain to
attempt to attribute such works to any natural laws with
which we are acquainted.
The hypothesis that they are exaggerated accounts of
works which might be so explained calls for no consideration
from us, since we assume the absolute truth of the evangel
ical histories.
Still less satisfactory is the attempt to harmonize belief in
those narratives with disbelief in the supernatural by classing
them with the works of the thaumaturgist.!! Jesus in no re
spect resembled the necromancers of his day. He muttered
no incantations. He prescribed no charms or amulets. He
never shrouded his cures in any of those mysteries which be
long to the arts of the necromancer. He did not even employ
the prayer which constituted the power of the ancient proph
ets, and subsequently of his disciples. He cured in his own
name;§§ in open day, before all the people ;|||| by a word;TT
a touch;*** a command ;fff using no instrument like the rod of
Moses!!! or the mantle of Elijah ;§§§ never laboring in seem
ing uncertainty as the prophet whose prayer was three times
* Matt, viii., 28-34; Mark v., 1-20; Luke viii., 26-39; and see com
ments on this miracle, chap, xviii.
t John iv., 46-54 ; Matt, viii., 14-17 ; Mark i., 29-31 ; Luke iv., 38-39.
X Luke xiii., 11-17.
§ Matt, xvii., 14-21 ; Mark ix., 14-29 ; Luke ix., 37-42.
|| Matt, ix., 27-30 ; Luke vii., 21.
f Matt, viii., 1-4 ; Mark i., 40-45 ; Luke v., 12-14.
** John iv., 46-54 ; Matt, viii., 5-13 ; Luke vii., 1-10.
tt Luke vii., 11-16 ; Matt, ix., 18, 19, 23-26 ; John xvii., 12-19.
XX This appears to be the theory of Renan, if one who is so purely imagin
ative and so little rational can be said to have a theory. — Renan's Life of
Jesus, chap. xvi. §§ Matt, viii., 3. |||| Mark ii., 2-5 ; ix., 25.
ft Mark iii., 5. *** Matt, ix., 29. t+t John v., 8.
Ht Exod. vii., 19 ; viii., 5, 16. §§§2 Kings ii., 8.

A D. 32.] DIFFERENT THEORIES. 163
repeated ere the breath came back to the widow's son ;* never
failing ; never declining a case as too difficult for his word ;f
never, on the other hand, essaying it to satisfy public curios
ity, gratify the love of the marvelous, or make good his Mes
sianic claims. Though he sometimes referred to the works he
had wrought in attestation of his mission, he never wrought
them for that purpose ; and to the perpetual clamor of the
populace for miracles he was accustomed to reply that only
a wicked nation sought for such evidences, and the only sign
that should be given them was that of the prophet Jonah,
whose presence, and the mere purity of whose doctrine in the
city of Nineveh were the best attestations of his divine com
mission. But we shall best perceive the nature and effect of Christ's
works of healing by following him during one missionary
circuit. * 1 Kings xvii., 21-22. t See Luke ix., 40.

164 A MISSIONARY CIRCUIT. [Chap. XIIL

CHAPTER XIII.
A MISSIONARY CIRCUIT.*
>N a Sabbath morning, Jesus, accompanied by his
four disciples, goes into the synagogue of his
newly-adopted home. As is usual, he reads a
part of the Scripture for the day, and expounds
it. As usual, he speaks, unbound by the tradi
tions of schools, direct to the heart and the conscience ; so
that the audience are astonished, not at his doctrine, i. e., the
substance of his teachings, though such is the phrase in our
English version of the Gospel, but at his teaching — that is,
his method and manner. It impressed them with a strange
power.f Among those who have gathered in the synagogue is a
man who is described as having an unclean spirit. The evan
gelists repeatedly mention cases of individuals whom they
thus describe. For the most part, these persons seem to have
been harmless ; sometimes, however, of a violent and danger
ous character.! The possession was often accompanied by
physical disease — blindness, dumbness,§ epilepsy. || In one
case it accompanied a disorder which was congenital, if not
hereditary. % The victim seems usually to have been pos
sessed of a double consciousness. His acts were unwitting.
And when, by the word of Jesus, the devil was cast out, and
he appeared clothed and in his right mind, he was with pe
culiar significance a new creature in Christ Jesus.
In the absence of any scientific diagnosis, it is often diffi-
* Matt, iv., 23-25 ; viii., 2-4, 14-17 ; ix., 2-13 ; Mark i., 21-45 ; ii., 1-
J.7; Luke iv., 33-44; v., 12-32. f Mark i., 22.
t Luke viii., 29. § Matt, xii., 22. || Mark ix., 18, 20.
«f Mark ix., 21.

A.D. 32.] DEMONIACAL POSSESSION. 165
cult to identify the diseases of which a mere passing and in
cidental mention is made in the New Testament. The lan
guage is popular, not scientific — the language of the first
century, not of the nineteenth. This is particularly true of
disorders of a mental type. It is but lately that mental hy
giene has been made a subject of scientific study. An ambi
guity, therefore, surrounds the cases so briefly described by
the evangelist, which it is not easy to remove. It has been
supposed by many that they are simply cases of what may
be termed moral insanity, and it is certain that in many re
spects they resemble modern cases of that type of disorder.
It has also been assumed that at the present day there are
no cases of demoniacal possession ; that this phenomenon
passed wholly away with the period which it characterized,
or that the evangelists were mistaken in their analysis of the
disease ; that, in asserting that these persons were possessed
of devils, they borrowed the popular but unscientific ideas of
their age, and that, in fact, these were simple cases of aggra
vated mental disorder.* It is by no means clear that this is
any thing more than a purely gratuitous assumption.
* That the demoniacs were really possessed of evil spirits is the view gen
erally taken by evangelical writers. So Townsend (Notes on the New Test.,
pt. iii., n. 23), Trench (On the Miracles, p. 125-136), Olshausen (Notes on
Matt, viii., 28-34, § 10, p. 359-366), Alford (Greek Test., Matt, viii., 28-34),
Conybeare and Howson (Life and Epis. of Paul, Am. ed., i., 298-300), Pres-
sense' (Life of Christ, p. 314-317), Lange (Life of Christ, vol. ii., p. 127-131),
Ebrard (Gospel Hist., p. 251). So, apparently, Ewald (Life of Christ, p. 119-
120). Generally assuming, or conceding the assumption, that demoniacal pos
session has ceased altogether, or is now comparatively infrequent, they offer
for this various explanations — that it was permitted then that the power of
Christ in casting devils out might be made manifest (so Townsend) ; that the
power of evil spirits has been broken by Christ (so Trench and Olshausen) ;
that moral disorders are epidemic in eras, and that in that age of general de
generacy and open violence madness assumed a pecuhar phase, and evil spirits
manifested their power in terrible and extraordinary ways (so, substantially,
Lightfoot, Alford, Pressense). That moral insanity comes to the world as to
individuals, in eras, see art. Demons in new Amer. Cyc. ; and that it is pro
duced and intensified by a feverish condition of the community, such as ex
isted in the time of Christ, see Sir Henry Maudsley's Physiology and Pathol
ogy of the Mind, p. 201, 209-211. On the contrary, the rationalizing critics

166 A MISSIONARY CIRCUIT. [Chap. XIII.
It is certain that the Scripture represents that there is a
world of disembodied spirits, both good and bad ; that they
are not wholly separated from mankind, but exert at times a
powerful influence upon them ; that not only in past time cer
tain individuals, as Saul, were affected by their presence, but
that the Christian is still liable to be subjected to their often
unrecognized influence, and that it is his duty to watch and
pray, not only against flesh and blood, but also " against prin
cipalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness
of this world."* It is equally certain that the phenomena of
so-called animal magnetism indicate that at times individual
men exert a strong influence in a direct manner, mysterious
to us, upon the brain and nerve conditions of their fellows,
acquiring an ascendency over them by means which they un
derstand as little as it is understood by either the subjects
or the observers. The hypothesis of Scripture, that evil spir
its sometimes acquire a similar control over the bodies and
minds of individuals, is indeed incapable of scientific demon
stration, since it deals with existences which lie beyond the
domain of scientific investigation ; but it certainly accords
with phenomena which still exist, and whose occult causes
are confessedly not understood.
It may be confidently asserted that if there are no cases of
demonstrable demoniacal possession in modern times, there
are mental phenomena which the hypothesis of such posses
sion better solves than any other. What more reasonable
explanation has science to afford of the case of that nurse
who begged to be dismissed from her mistress's service be-
assume that there is no such thing as demoniacal possession ; that the demo
niacs were persons "suffering from religious mania," whom Jesus succeeded
in "composing and restoring" (Schenckel's Char, of Jesus, vol. i., p. 109), or
lunatics whom a gentle word would suffice to calm (Renan's Life of Jesus, p.
233-235) ; a theory which reaches its climax in the hypothesis of Furness
(Schenckel's Life of Christ, vol. i., p. 115), that the demoniac in the syna
gogue was aroused to religious frenzy by the excitement of the audience and
the teaching of Christ, who thus first made the man crazy, and then cured
him! * Eph. vi, 12.

A.D. 32.] MODERN MENTAL PHENOMENA. 167
cause in undressing the child whom she devotedly loved an
almost irresistible passion siezed her to tear it to pieces; or
that young girl who, otherwise exemplary, seemed to herself
to be impelled by a spirit to acts of incendiarism ; or that
young .lady who begged with tears that she might have the
strait waistcoat put upon her, that she might "not be suffered
to yield to the irresistible desire to kill some one ; or that
distressed chemist, of a naturally amiable character, who
went himself to the asylum, that he might be prevented from
indulging in a like unnatural propensity; or that epileptic
peasant who sought to be chained that he might not slay the
mother whom he loved ; or that English gentleman, who only
by the most strenuous act of the will resisted the horrid im
pulse to murder his own children;* or that respectable old
lady who endeavored to strangle her own daughter without
provocation ; or that young lady of good parentage and ed
ucation, who was driven on to acts of utter and abandoned
shamelessness, impelled, as she thought, by the power of Sa
tan, which she was incapable of resisting ; or that young man
who begged to be restrained by others from the commission
of acts of violence, whose criminal nature he fully recognized,
but from the commission of which he no longer seemed able
to restrain himself, f Is it certain that these persons, all of
whom recognized the difference between right and wrong, in
all of whom a double nature seemed to dwell, in all of whom
conscience and their own better desires remonstrated against
the crime which they abhorred, but in all of whom there
seemed to their own consciousness another spirit dwelling,
whose instigations they were powerless to resist — is it cer
tain that their own testimony that they were " impelled by a
shade," or " prompted by Satan," is not more consistent with
* See these and other cases quoted in detail in Ray's Medical Jurispru
dence, chap, vii., § 5, p. 202-260.
t See Sir Henry Maudsley's Phys. and Path, of the Mind, chap, iii., p. 306,
307 309, 313-316. • See also, for some similar cases, Forbes Winslow's Ob
scure Diseases of the Brain and Mind, p. 179-211.
8

168 A MISSIONARY CIRCUIT. [Chap. XIII.
reason, as it is certainly more consistent with Scripture, than
the material philosophy which endeavors to trace the disor
der to a disease of the brain, which the utmost microscopic
scrutiny after death often fails to disclose ? We are far from
asserting that these and kindred cases are scientifically trace
able to demoniacal possession. We do unhesitatingly assert
that, in the present confessed ignorance of the causes of moral
and mental disease,* such an hypothesis is not to be supercil
iously rejected, j
Certain it is that between the cases of demoniacal posses
sion narrated in the New Testament and the cases of moral
insanity collected in modern works upon that subject, there
are striking resemblances. In both there is a clear recogni
tion of the difference between right and wrong.! In both
there is a double consciousness. § In both there is the testi
mony of the patient that he is impelled by a power beside
himself. || Both are accompanied sometimes by acts of vio
lence ; sometimes by attempts at suicide. Both are in their
worst forms attended with epileptic convulsions. f Both are
frequently manifested in periodic .returns of disorder, with in-
* " The causes of insanity, as usually enumerated by authors, are so general
and vague as to render it a very difficult matter to settle in the mind what
they really are. " — Sir Henry Maudsley's Physiology and Pathology of the
Mind, p. 197. The very title of Forbes Winslow's book, Obscure Diseases
of the Brain and Mind, implies a like testimony.
t This view has been hinted at by Ebrard, Gospel History, p. 253. It has
received the sanction in medical science of some leading minds — Aretasus in
ancient times, and more recently Esquirol, who stands at the head of the
French school, if not of all schools, as a student of mental disorder.
X Evidenced by their recognition of the holiness of Christ. See Mark i.,
24. Compare Sir Henry Maudsley, Physiology and Pathology of the Mind',
p. 304, 305, 316-318.
§ Mark v., 6, 9. Forbes Winslow's Obscure Diseases of the Mind, p. 210,
211, and illustrations cited above.
|| Compare Mark v., 9 ; ix., 18, with Ray's Medical Jurisprudence, p. 230,
§ 227 ; p. 234, § 233 ; Sir Henry Maudsley's Physiology and Pathology of
the Mind, p. 307; and Winslow's Obscure Diseases of the Mind, cited above.
If Mark ix., 17-22. "The most desperate cases of homicidal impulses are
undoubtedly met with in connection with epilepsy." — Sir Henry Maudsley,
Physiology and Pathology of the Mind, p. 309.

A.D. 32.] THE DEMONIA C AT CAPERNA UM. 169
tervals of sanity.* Both are sometimes traceable to willful
self-indulgence in some form of sin as their provoking cause.f
And both possess at times, in a remarkable degree, an appre
ciation of the character of persons with whom they are thrown
in contact, and are sometimes peculiarly affected by the pres
ence of persons of a pure and holy character.! The students
who have noted these parallels will be variously affected by
them. He who is determined to find a visible and material
cause for every mental phenomenon will attribute the demo
niacal possession of ancient times to physical causes, and the
language of the Gospels to the unscientific character of the
writers. He who believes, with Hamlet, that " there are more
things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our philoso
phy," will be prepared to believe with us, that the Scriptural
interpretation of the influence of evil spirits affords the most
satisfactory and the most rational explanation of phenomena
which, to the present day, afford the students of mental dis
ease their greatest perplexity. §
There had strayed, then, into the synagogue on this Sab
bath morning, one of these unfortunates. We should have
called him insane, and rightly, for doubtless he was mentally
diseased. The Jews called him one possessed of an evil spirit,
* So in Mark ix., 17-22. Compare Winslow's Obscure Diseases, p. 45,
and cases'in Ray's Medical Jurisprudence, before cited, e. g., § 219, 221.
t Compare, for example, the case of Saul with that of any of the cases
cited in the notes already given.
X Mark i., 23; Luke iv., 33; Mark v., 2, 6, 7; Matt, viii., 28. Lange,
Life of Christ, vol. ii. , p. 112. The " penetrating insight" of a certain class
of insane is a phenomenon almost universally recognized.
§ He who has read with care these pages will not understand me as attrib
uting all insanity, or even all moral insanity, to the influence of evil spirits.
The New Testament itself discriminates between lunatics and those possessed
of demons (Matt, iv., 24). For a good description of the characteristics of
demoniacal possession, see OlshSusen's Commentary on Matt. viii. , 28-34, §
10, p. 359-366 ; for a description of modern insanity in Syria, Thomson's
Land and the Book, vol. i., p. 212, 213 ; for the ablest presentation of the
Rationalistic view, Kitto's Bible Cyclopaedia, tenth edition, article Demoni
acs ; for the ablest presentation of the opposite view, Trench on the Mira
cles, p. 125-136, and Alford's Greek Testament, Matt, viii., 28-34 ; for an
able discussion of the whole topic, Smith's Bible Dictionary, art. Demoniacs,

170 A MISSIONARY CIRCUIT. [Chap. XIII.
and rightly, for that was the secret cause of his disorder.
He was powerfully afiected by the teaching of Jesus. Such
persons are often as appreciative of the truth as the most in
telligent and strong-minded. He was yet more powerfully
affected by Christ's mere presence. With that most wonder
ful moral intuition which often characterizes this class of per
sons, he perceived what the slow-minded Jews had not yet
comprehended — Christ's Messianic character. At length he
could keep silent no longer. His voice was heard breaking
in upon the sacred service: "Let us alone. What have we
to do with thee, thou Jesus of Nazareth ? Art thou come to
destroy us ? I know thee, who thou art, the Holy One of
God." For this class of persons there is even at the present day
but little sympathy ; so little that the latest author and ablest
student on this subject writes, " To be a lunatic, as public sen
timent goes, is to be cut off socially from humanity."* Es
pecially is this true of the morally insane. Moral insanity is
so akin to willful wickedness that only the most careful stu
dents of the disorder can discriminate between them. Still
less was any sympathy extended to such persons in the time
of Christ. Believed to be possessed by the devil, they were
given over to his companionship. They were treated not as
hopelessly sick, but as hopelessly wicked. That such a per
son should have ventured into the synagogue would be a
ground of indignation ; that he should venture to interrupt
its sacred services would insure him no gentle expulsion.
But Christ has a truer appreciation of the case, and a ten
derer thought of it. To be possessed of an evil spirit awakens
in him no horror or dread, but pity and compassion. In the
general excitement which ensues he retains his calmness. He
fixes his eye upon the maniac. The glance that smote Peter
with remorse, and drove the soldiers backward to the ground,
fastens the wandering gaze of the lunatic, and compels his
heed. With a voice of authority Jesus speaks.
* Sir Henry Maudsley's Physiology and Pathology of the Mind, p. 424.

A.D. 32.] CURE OF THE DEMONIAC. 171
" Hold thy peace and come out of him." The man falls in
a fit to the ground. The imagination easily conceives, though
the inspired pen has not recorded the scene of confusion
which ensues.* The whole audience are thrown into the
greatest confusion. Women are in consternation. Men rise
in their places, the better to see this disturber of the service.
Those in the immediate vicinity crowd about him. The
whole service for the day is broken up. But the fit is tran
sient. To the present day, these epileptic convulsions often
inexplicably mark the recurrence of sanity in such cases.
The . man presently rises clothed with a new consciousness.
His mind is clear. His moral nature is cleansed. . The change
is so marked that all the people note it. He is a new man.
Wondering, they ask each other, Who is this new Rabbi,
whom even evil spirits obey ?
Such a man as this lunatic is always a public character in
any community. Every man knows him. Even the children
dog his footsteps! in the streets. The cure of. such a man
electrified the city. All Capernaum was whispering the news
before the sun had set.
Jesus meanwhile went with his four disciples to the home
of Simon Peter. Simon was married. His mother-in-law was
living with him. Near Capernaum, where the Jordan makes
into the Sea of Galilee, are extensive marshes. The luxuriant
vegetation of summer decaying here, breeds virulent malari
ous fevers, which often do not develop until fall and winter.
Peter's mother-in-law lay sick with one of these malarious
fevers. In the pimple science of that day they were divided
into little and great fevers. This appears to have been the
only distinction known. Luke, himself a physician, charac
terized this as one of the more serious and aggravated type.f
Peter had witnessed Christ's power over the demon in the
synagogue. He appealed to him to cure his mother-in-law.
Christ complied with his request. In the poetic language of
* It is, however, hinted at, Mark i., 27; Luke iv., 36. The whele ac
count indicates an interruption and cessation of service. t Luke iv., 38.

172 A MISSIONARY CIRCUIT. [Chap. XIII.
the day Jesus rebuked the. fever, and, taking the patient by
the hand, lifted her up. The disease instantly left her. The
mere quelling of such a disorder usually leaves the patient
weakened by its virulence. The period of convalescence is
sometimes the most trying. Christ, however, not. only ex
pelled the fever, but inspired health and strength, so that she
rose from her sick-bed and went about her customary house
hold duties.*
Meanwhile the rumor of the. scene in the synagogue had
been extending. Sunset is a sign for the commencement of
the greatest social activity in Palestine. The work of the
day is over. Its intolerable heat has passed. The women
gather at the wells. to draw their water. I The men gather
about- their doors, or in groups at the gate of the city, for
converse. The obligation of Sabbath rest, too, closes with
the setting sun. By sunset the fast-spreading rumor began
to bring forth its fruit. Christ's disciples were well known
in the city. The miracle of the fishes had already, been
bruited abroad, and had sufficed'to indicate Jesus's probable
whereabouts. People began in crowds to flock to this new
prophet. A strange scene was then witnessed in the streets of Ca
pernaum. A motley crowd besieged the house of Peter, and
thronged the streets that led thither. Hither came the par
alytic, bent together by long-continued disease ; hither the
unfortunate victim of epilepsy, seeking the relief which med
icine never has been able to afford ; hither the blind groped
their way, following the sound of the crowd,, or led by some
sympathizing friend ; hither, drawn by a strange attraction,
came the lunatic in his half-consciousness of disease, hoping
for a cure that he could not comprehend ; hither were brought
by friends some invalids borne on their mattresses ; hither
came parents bringing their children, with the still-lingering
though hitherto oft - disappointed hope of love, or children
* Luke iv., 39.
t See Gen. xxiv. as an illustration of the antiquity of this custom.

THE HEALER.

A.D. 32.] A SINGULAR SCENE. 175
supporting their aged and infirm parents, tortured by the
rheumatic and neuralgic pains -which a malarious country oft
en produces in old age. And hither, in greater number than
all the rest, were the multitude, drawn by curiosity to see a
new Rabbi, and witness for themselves the wonderful works,
the account of which they had heard, but only half believed ;
ao that, as Peter looked upon the crowd that filled the nar
row street and blocked up the entrance to his house, it seemed
to him as though the whole city were literally gathered at
the door.*
Of them all none went disappointed away. On some Christ
laid his hands ; to some he spoke the word of healing.f The
lame threw away their crutches ; the blind looked for the first
time on the picture which the setting sun was painting in the
west ; the trembling hand was steadied, the withered limb
made strong ; they that were brought upon their beds "bore
them rejoicingly away; the burning heats of fever were ex
tinguished ; parched and fevered lips, moistened with the re
turning pulsations of healthy blood, spoke his praise ; moth
ers clasped to their bosoms the children who returned to
them from the very door of death ; minds long darkened by
disease felt the strange illumination of truth as the mystic
clouds that obscured the past broke and scattered at his
word-; and slaves, long oppressed under the intolerable do
minion of appetites and passions, clothed with demoniacal
strength by devilish inspiration, burst the old fetters, and be
came again free men. Nor was it till the sun had sunk below
the hills that environ the plain of Gennesaret, and the rud
dy glow of the evening clouds was no longer reflected in the
placid lake, that gradually the crowd dispersed, and left Jesus
to a brief repose.
But not to sleep. Simple as seemed to be his remedies,
* Mark i. , 33. There is reason to suppose that the Gospel of Mark was
written largely under the influence and direction of Peter. — See Davidson's
Introduc. to the New Test., vol. i-, P- 138, and post ; Alford's New Test., pro-
leg., iii., § 2. t Compare Luke iv., 40, with Matt, viii., 16.
8*

176 A MISSIONARY CIRCUIT. [Chap. XIII.
—
they were self-exhausting. At every touch he felt virtue go
out of him.* At every word of strong, mastering rebuke of
evil spirits, he felt the struggle with the powers of darkness.
The sight of so much distress moved him too with compas
sion. The deeper insight into that spiritual disease and death,
of which this was but the type, intensified his feeling. His
sensitive heart throbbed in sympathy with every disease he
cured, with every pang which he alleviated. The effect upon
his frame was so apparent, that to his disciples it almost
seemed as though he had taken upon himself the diseases he
had taken from others, and they instinctively applied to him
the words of the ancient prophet, " Himself took our infirmi
ties and bare our sicknesses. "f This nervous exhaustion was
too great for sleep, and, leaving at length the now slumber
ing city, he sought in the quiet repose which characterizes
nature at night, and in silent communion with his God, that
rest which every devout and poetic nature can at least par
tially comprehend, and which no other can.
Nazareth had expelled him from her borders ; Capernaum
besought him to remain. In the morning, Simeon, always a
man of action rather than of devotion, found him in his re
treat, and brought him the message that the people sought
for him. Jesus, however, came not to heal, but to preach.
He could not suffer his sympathies to deflect him from his
mission ; other cities needed his word no less. His ministry
was to be an itinerant ministry, that no one place might claim
him as its own. He commenced, therefore, his first mission
ary circuit among the cities of Galilee. Every where he
preached the same gospel of repentance ; every where his
word was with power no less upon the body than upon the
soul-! One of the cures wrought on this circuit added still
farther to his widening reputation. §
* Mark v., 30 ; Luke vi., 19 ; viii., 46.
t Matt, viii., 17 ; Isa. lui., 4. % Matt, iv., 23-25 ; Mark i., 36-39.
§ There is some doubt whether this cure was wrought at this time, or after
the Sermon on the Mount. We follow Robinson's Harmony in placing it here.

A.D. 32.] LEPROSY. 177
In the absence of accurate observations, the one term lep
rosy was used among the Hebrews to designate various cu
taneous disorders widely different in inherent character, but
possessing some similarity in symptoms and external appear
ance.* In its worst forms, leprosy is alike awful in its char
acter and hideous in its appearance. For years it lurks con
cealed in the interior organs. Gradually it develops itself.
Spots of red appear upon the skin, chiefly the face ; the hair
of the brows, and lids, and beard begins to fall off; the eyes
become fierce and staring ; the voice grows hoarse and husky,
and is finally quite lost ; the joints grow quite stiff, refuse to
fulfill their office, and drop off one by one ; the eyes are eat
en from their sockets. The patient, strangely insensible to
his awful condition, suffers an apathy of mind that is scarcely
less dreadful than the condition of his body. Corruption hor
ribly precedes the grave, until at length the wretched victim
of this most horrible disorder of any time or any country, " a
handless, eyeless, tongueless wreck of humanity,"f finds his
only refuge in the welcome tomb. J
Universally regarded as suffering a disease as virulent in its
contagion^ as in its immediate effects, the leper was shunned
* For a tabular statement of the disorders probably included under this
general and popular name, see Copeland's Medical Diet., art. Psoriasis, § 7,
note. Compare art. Leprosy, § 16, 17.
t Thomson's Land and Book, vol. i., p. 520. For a striking picture of the
growth of leprosy, accurate as well as striking, see " The Leper," Willis's
Sacred Poems, p. 21.
t For a full description of the leprosy in its various forms, or rather of the
various diseases which share that name, see Smith's Bible Diet. , art. Leper ;
art. Medicine, p. 302, b. ; Jahn's Archaeology, p. 209, § 1 89 ; Thomson's Land
and Book, vol. ii., p. 518 ; Alford's Greek Test., Matt, viii., 4 ; Copeland's
Med. Diet., arts. Psoriasis, Leprosy, and Ptyriasis. For the Mosaic descrip
tion, see Leviticus xiii.
§ Whether leprosy is contagious or not has greatly perplexed both the di
vines and the physicians. Alford (Gr. Test. , Matt. viii. , 2) and Trench (On
the Miracles, p. 174) deny that it is, and point to the cases of Naaman (2 Kings
v.) and Gehazi (2 Kings viii., 4, 5) as evidence that it was never so regarded.
The leper, they think, was simply ceremonially unclean. But that leprosy is
now universally regarded by the people of the East as contagious, see Thom
son's Land and Book, p. 517-519. The truth seems to be, that the milder

178 A MISSIONARY CIRCUIT. [Chap. XIII.
as one whose fetid breath bore pestilential poison in it. Uni
versally regarded as bearing in his body the special marks of
divine displeasure for intolerable sin,* his sufferings awoke
no sympathy, but only horror. From the moment of the first
clearly-defined symptoms, the wretched man was deliberately
given over to death. He was an outcast from society. No
home could receive him. Wife and children might not min
ister to him. Wherever he went, he heralded his loathsome
presence by the cry " Unclean ! unclean !" Men drew one
side to let him pass ; mothers snatched their children from
before his path. To touch him — the horror-stricken Jew
would sooner suffer the kiss of an envenomed serpent. No
one ever thought to proffer succor to a leper ; no physician
ever offered him hope of health ; no amulets could exorcise
this dread visitation. A special token of the wrath of God,
only God could cure it ; only repentance of sin and the pro
pitiation of divine wrath could afford a remedy. f No hand
ever bathed the leper's burning brow, or brought the cooling
draught for his parched lips. None ever spoke a word of
sympathy to his oppressed heart. Society had built no hos
pitals for the sick, no lazarettos even for its own protection.
And the leper, driven from the towns, dwelt in dismantled
dwellings, or in caves and clefts of the rock, solitary, or in the
wretched companionship of victims as wretched as himself.
One of these unhappy sufferers had heard of Jesus's fame.
He believed, with the hope sometimes born of desperation, in
the divine power of this new prophet. And naught but di
vine power could give to him relief. He disregarded alike
the law, which excluded him from the city, and the horror he
forms of the disease (Med. Squamous Leprosy) were not esteemed contagious,
but that the more aggravated forms (Med. Tubercular Leprosy) were thought
to be so (Lev. xiii. , 3-6). Whether it be contagious or not is still an unset
tled question (Copeland's Med. Diet., art. Leprosy, § 27, 29 ; Psoriasis, § 5).
It is certainly hereditary (Ibid.).
* Smith's Bible Diet. , art. Leper. For illustrations of its infliction as a
divine punishment, see Numb, xii., 10; 2 Kings v., 27; xv., 5; 2 Chron.
xxvi.,19. t 2 Kings v., 7.

A.D. 32.] THE LEPER HEALED. 179
must face to enter it,* and broke through all restraints to im
plore the word of healing from this inheritor of the power of
Elijah. The crowd heard his cry, "Unclean ! unclean !" and
opened in superstitious dread to give him passage through.
He cast himself at the feet of Jesus with the outcry of de
spairing imploration, " Lord, if thou wilt thou canst make me
clean !" The people had looked on him only with horror.
Jesus was moved with compassion. They had drawn back
that they might not receive the contagion of his garments.
Jesus put forth his hand to touch him. They had echoed his
cry, " Unclean ! unclean !" Jesus said, " I will ; be thou clean ;"
and in the instant of that speaking the leper felt the burning
fever depart, and a new fresh blood, healed at its fount, course
through his veins, f
This cure added to the fame of the new prophet. People
flocked to him, not only from all parts of Galilee, but from
beyond the Jordan.! All Palestine was moved by his pres
ence. The synagogues were crowded with expectant hear
ers on the Sabbath, the streets with expectant patients in the
week.§ To the people it verily appeared that one of the an
cient prophets had risen from the dead.|| To his disciples it
seemed as though his whole service was to be a triumphal
march. But already the mutterings of the coming storm might be
heard by an attentive ear. Physicians looked with jealous
eye on one whose word outran in efficacy all their remedies.
Rabbis liked not this new teacher whom all Galilee was fol
lowing, deserting them to do so. Though as yet there was
no open breach between them and him, they felt that he was
not of their party, and preached not their religion. He was
careless concerning their most sacred ceremonies. Neither
he nor his disciples fasted. *Tf He was indifferent concerning
* See Luke v., 12.
t Matt, viii., 2-4 ; Mark i., 40-45 ; Luke v., 12-16.
t Matt. iv. , 23, 25. § Mark i. , 45 ; Luke v. , 1 5, 1 6.
|| See Matt, xvi., 14.. If Luke v., 33 ; Matt, ix., 14.

180 A MISSIONARY CIRCUIT. [Chap. XIII.
baptisms and ablutions.* He spoke sometimes with an as
sumption which seemed to them blasphemy; which would
have been blasphemy in the son of Joseph, but was not in
the Son of God.f He taught what they regarded as lax
views concerning the obligations and observance of the Sab
bath ;! and, worst of all, he preached, like his forerunner, a
gospel of repentance, which included alike the Pharisee in
its condemnation, and the publican in its proffer of pardon.
Two incidents occurring about this time gave point to these
criticisms. On Jesus's return to Capernaum, a paralytic was brought
to him to be cured. The crowd completely blocked up the
entrance to the house, and the sick man's friends, climbing:
upon the roof, let him down into the court-yard. His disease
was probably the effect of some self-indulgence, and Jesus
pronounced his sin forgiven. The Pharisees complained that
this was blasphemy ; but Jesus replied that it made no differ
ence whether he pronounced forgiveness, or by healing proved
his power to forgive. He therefore bade the paralytic take
up his bed and walk.§
Shortly after this he saw, at the receipt of custom, a tax-
gatherer who was evidently interested in his ministry. This
tax-gatherer Jesus invited to become his disciple. Matthew,
or Levi (for by both of these names he seems to have been
known), immediately accepted this invitation, and shortly
after made a feast in honor of his new master. He invited a
number of his old companions. That Jesus should sit down
with publicans and heathen shocked the Jewish sense of pro
priety. They remonstrated. Christ replied that he was a
physician, and came not to heal the well, bnt the sick ; that
he came to preach a gospel, not of righteousness, but of re
pentance, and that was properly preached to sinners. It is
doubtful whether they fully understood him. Certainly they
* John iii., 25 ; ix., 2 ; Luke xi., 38. f Mark ii., 7 ; Luke iv., 21, 22.
t See Chap. XV. — The Sabbath Question.
§ Mark ii., 1-12 ; Luke v., 1 7-26.

A.D. 32.] APPROACHING CONFLICT. 181
did not appreciate a sentiment so simple, yet so sublime that
we have not yet fully apprehended its significance.*
These incidents, however, indicated the battle that was ap
proaching, though Jesus, who knew from the beginning what
was in man, needed not the warning.f The halcyon days of
Christ's life are drawing to a close. The clouds already be
gin to gather that darken the whole earth in the hour of his
death. We approach the story of that bitter conflict which
ended in the crucifixion and in the coronation of the King of
Israel. To understand its nature, we must pause a few mo
ments in our narrative to give a brief account of the charac
ter and condition of the Jewish Church and of Jewish relig
ious philosophy.
* Matt, ix., 9-13. Whether this feast occurred at this time, or at a later
period, as supposed by Robinson (Harmony, § 58), is uncertain, and not very
important. Robinson's reasoning, however, is not conclusive. All the evan
gelists couple the feast with the call of Matthew. It would constitute the
publican's natural inauguration of his new life. It is doubtful whether his
old companions would have been invited guests at a later period, or would
have accepted the invitation ; and it seems probable that it preceded such
charges as that of Matt, xi., 19. t John ii., 24, 25.

182 JE WISH RELIGION AND INFIDELITY. [Chap. XIV.

CHAPTER XIV.
JEWISH RELIGION AND JEWISH INFIDELITY.
>LTHOUGH the Jewish Church preserved, in the
time of Christ, a seeming unity, that unity ex
isted only in appearance. It was divided into
sects, which disputed for the mastery quite as
fiercely as the Jansenist and Jesuit in the. days
of Pascal — sects as diverse in sentiment and as antagonistic
in spirit. A brief account of these sects and their sentiments
is necessary to a correct understanding of Christ's public
ministry. Both commenced with the earnest enunciation by
right-minded men of much-needed truths. Both degenerated
by a rapid but consecutive progress into schools of danger
ous errors. Each aggravated the falsehoods of the other by
the pertinacity with which it persisted in its own. " There
is no new thing under the sun," says Solomon. Polemics in
the first century and the nineteenth are the same in essential
character. Pharisaism was to the Holy Land in the time of Christ
what Roman Catholicism was to Europe in the days of Lu
ther, or Puritanism to New England in the time of Edwards
— the religion of the country. Historically, it was a protest
against heathen corruptions. We have already sketched the
progress of the national degeneracy of the Jews, and shown
that its political decay was accompanied by a like decay in
philosophy and religiori. The Israelites, intermarried with
foreigners, possessed in Samaria a religion in which the lean
kine of heathenism had swallowed up the fat kine of Judaism,
and yet remained as lean as before. The two Judaic tribes
maintained with greater success the forms of their ancient

Chap. XIV.] ORIGIN OF PHARISAISM. 183
faith, but not without ingrafting on it something of heathen
philosophy. War breached the walls which separated them
from other nationalities, and the schools of the heathen en
tered at the breach. Carried away captive by Nebuchadnez
zar, they imbibed some Oriental ideas during the Babylonian
captivity. Restored only to be overrun by Alexander the
Great, they were subjected to the influence of the Grecian
schools as well as to the dominion of the Grecian sword.
Conquered by Ptolemy, their learned men, carried by him into
Egypt, endeavored to combine the religion of Moses with
the fanciful philosophy of a land as fertile in imagination as
in agricultural products. Brought under the dominion of
Antiochus Epiphanes, who, resolving to obliterate Judaism
and substitute the religion of Greece, planted his own image
in the Temple, commanded swine to be offered on the altar,
and outrivaled the later cruelties of Nero against the Chris
tians in the bitterness of his persecutions of the persistent
Jew, many from fear adopted the forms of a philosophy
which had no real charms for them.
Then it was the Pharisaic party arose. They constituted
at first the purists of Judaism. They insisted on the divorce
of the Jewish religion from heathen worship and philosophy.
They insisted that nothing should be added to the Jewish
religion by importation. They were the reformers of the
second century before Christ. They braved, undaunted, the
bitterest persecution that untempered cruelty, armed with un
limited power, could heap upon them. They passed through
fires which made every nerve iron and every sinew steel. In
this experience they were sustained by a faith at first devout,
eventually fanatical, in the providence of God. They were
his chosen people. They were assured through him of event
ual victory. The events which seemed adverse were ordered
by his will. To submit to the divine decrees was their first
religious duty. Their foes were the foes of God, whose power
he would surely break, and whom, at the last, he would mis
erably destroy. In the persecutions of the present they con-

184: JEWISH RELIGION AND INFIDELITY. [Chap. XIV;
soled thewselves with expectations of the future. The hope
of a Messianic kingdom cheered them in every disaster and
defeat. Thus, out of their sufferings they evolved the two
characteristic features of their creed — faith in immortality,
faith in the absolute decrees of God. All things were ordered
by his will. Nothing, therefore, went wrong. All things that
seemed so to do he would righten in the future.
But in the maintenance of this faith they were met at the
outset by an argument which sorely perplexed them. They
borrowed their hope from the future. But when they were
asked for the evidences of immortality in the laws of Moses,
they were compelled to- confess that those laws contained no
clear revelation of any future state. On the contrary, it
seemed in the main to represent God's government as admin
istered by temporal rewards and punishments. "If ye be
willing and obedient, ye shall eat the fat of the land ; but if
ye refuse and rebel, ye shall be devoured with the sword,"*
was Isaiah's correct epitome of the system which the Jewish
law afforded. If there were intimations of immortality which
Christ afterward discovered, they were merely intimations.
Nowhere was Job's question, " If a man die, shall he live
again ?" categorically answered.
Nor were there any commands to prayer. The later books
of the prophets, indeed, partially supplied this seeming omis
sion ; but it certainly was omitted from the Mosaic statutes.
The Pharisees did not comprehend that these statutes were
the civil constitution of a state. They did not perceive that
considerations drawn from immortality are not the proper
sanctions of civil laws. They did not understand that prayer
is a privilege rather than a duty; to be instinctively de
manded by the soul rather than enjoined upon it by positive
enactments. Pressed'by their opponents, who demanded au
thority for the faith which they rightly held, but the founda
tions whereof are in the intuitions of the soul rather than in
the statutes of a commonwealth, they invented a singular
* Isaiah i., 19, 20.

Chap. XiV.] THE TALMUD. 185
fiction.' They asserted that during the forty days which
Moses spent with God in the mount, Jehovah gave him an
additional revelation. In this he promulgated the doctrine
of a future life and the duty of prayer. In this, too, he af
forded an authoritative interpretation of all the precepts of
the written law.. This additional revelation had been, they
said, subsequently handed down from father to son. It con
stituted a body of traditions of equal binding force with the
Scriptures which accompanied it.
Such a doctrine, once incorporated in their religion, opened
wide the door to corruption. The oral traditions soon over
grew the written Word. The laws of Moses occupy less
than a fifth part of our Bible. The Babylonian Talmud oc
cupies : twelve large folio volumes. The traditions became to
the Pharisees what in the Middle Ages the decrees of the
Church and the literature of the fathers were to the Roman
ist. The Scriptures took a subordinate place. Heaven was
depicted as a school of Rabbis, God himself the chief Rabbi.
The words of the scribes were declared to be more delightful
than the words of the prophets. " The Bible is like water,
and the Mishna like wine," became a Pharisaic proverb. To
read the Scriptures was considered as dangerous for the com
mon people in the time of Christ as in the time of Luther.
To. read them, except in the light of the authoritative inter
pretation; was equivalent to atheism. Nor was it only the
place of the Scriptures which this oral tradition usurped. It
became the exclusive, object of study among the learned of.
the land. To investigate Grecian philosophy subjected the
student to an anathema. To teach a "single precept of the
law demanded the pupil's eternal gratitude ; to forget a sin
gle point of doctrine endangered his soul.
At the time of Christ this Rabbinical law was still mainly,
if not exclusively taught by word of mouth in the schools,
and handed down by successive Rabbis from generation to
generation. Great sacredness attached to it ; great mystery
enwrapped it. It was forbidden to be written. When at

186 JEWISH RELIGION AND INFIDELITY. [Chap. XIV.
last it was reduced to writing, a curse was pronounced on
whoever should translate it into any heathen tongue. To
teach it to a woman, a child, or a gentile was a profanation.
In the second century after Christ the first written compila
tion of this oral law was effected. Three centuries later
the commentaries of the scribes were added. The former is
termed the Mishna. The latter is called the Gemara. The
two combined constitute the Talmud. The prohibition of its
translation was a work of supererogation. No one is ever
likely to attempt to exhume from this valley of dry bones
more than a few single anatomical specimens. There is no
book about which more has been written and less is known
than this Jewish Talmud.* Like the religion of which it is
the literature, it is a singular mass of contradictions, of wis
dom and folly, of philosophy and of wild Oriental imagina
tion, of pure ethics and of loose and pernicious casuistry.
Let any one attempt to analyze the religious literature of
Europe ; let him compile in one work the pure spirituality of
Madame Guyon and the abominable licentiousness of the mir
acle plays ; the high-toned morality of Pascal and the casuist
ries of Escobar and Reginald, which he so indignantly pro
tests against ; the religious philosophy of Augustine, the fa
ther of modern theology, with the disquisitions on angelology
by Thomas Aquinas, and he will have proposed to himself a
task somewhat similar to that which is essayed in the attempt
to analyze the Talmud, a compend of the Jewish literature
of many centuries — " the sweepings of -the intellectual thresh-
* Of the Talmud there are two editions, the Babylon and the Jerusalem,
in which the text, or Mishna, is the same ; the commentary, or the Gemara,
is different. The reader who is puzzled-by finding constantly the words Ge
mara, Mishna, and Talmud used interchangeably, may be helped by the fol
lowing tabular statement : The Talmud is composed of
The Mishna, or oral law, first written Gemara, or commentaries of the scribes, of
in the 2d century after Christ. which there are two, comprising, with the Mishna,
Jerusalem Talmud, 4th centuiy. Babylon Talmud, 6th century.

Chap. XIV.] TALMUDIC MAXIMS. 187
ing-floor of Judaism, accumulated during some centuries, and
consigned to the Talmudic garner without any effectual win
nowing.* That it contains some clear enunciation of divine truth is
not to be denied. Scattered through its pages are many
maxims which embody the spirit of Christianity. In a neg
ative form the golden rule is there found, " Thou shalt not do
to thy neighbor what is hateful to thyself." The law of love,
enacted under Moses and repeated by Christ, it reiterates —
" Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself." Secret charity it
commends : " He who gives in secret is greater than Moses
himself." Humility and self-abnegation it commends : " Who
ever runs after greatness, greatness runs away from him ; he
who runs from greatness, greatness follows him." Interior
sins it rebukes : " Pride is like idolatry." Immortality it pro
claims : " This world is like an inn, the world to come like
home." It even gives a glimpse of the Fatherhood of God :
" If we are called servants of God, we are also called his chil
dren." The parallels of these maxims in the teachings of
Christ and his apostles will readily occur to the reader.f Re
membering, however, that the Talmud was not compiled till
several centuries after Christ ; remembering, too, that it has
borrowed, without hesitation and without credit, from the lit
erature of the East and from the philosophy of Greece, the
suspicion that its compilers have put some of the words of
Christ into the mouths of the ancient Rabbis is not without
at least a seeming foundation.
But these maxims are as single stars shining in a murky
night. They lie like nuggets of gold imbedded in masses of
quartz. For the most part the theology is puerile, the imag
ination extravagant, the morals pernicious, the very language
often so indecent as to forbid translation. We have depicted
the best side of the Talmud. Its worst aspects hide in an ob-
* S. H. Cowper in Journal of Sacred Literature, Jan., 1868, p. 257.
t Matt, vii., 12 ; xxii., 39 ; vi., 2-4 ; Luke xiv., 7-11 ; Col. iii., 5 ; Heb.
xi.,13, 14; John xv., 15.

188 JEWISH RELIGION AND INFIDELITY. [Chap. XIV'.
scurity from which no hand will ever be willing to drag them
to the light. Those portions which throw light on the teachr
ings of Christ only by the contrast they afford constitute the
mass of Talmudical literature.
It is impossible to comprehend the power and the beauty
of Christ's teaching without some knowledge of these instruc
tions of the Pharisees as subsequently embodied in the Tal
mud, but it is difficult to afford that knowledge without
wearying the reader with a tedious enumeration of petty de
tails. Their interpretations of Scripture were singularly fan
tastic. From the text " Thou hast fashioned me behind and
before," they deduced the conclusion that Adam was made
with two faces, and that Eve was made by sawing him asun
der. Their original discussions surpassed, if that were possi
ble, their scriptural commentaries. " If a man shoiddhe bom
with two heads, on which forehead should he bind the phy
lacteries ?" is a sample of the subjects of their most serious
discussions. In ceremonial instructions the Pharisaic Rabbis
were punctilious. To eat an egg laid on the first day of
the week was seriously interdicted, because, presumably, it
was prepared in the order of nature on the Sabbath. But to
personal morals they were for the most part profoundly indif
ferent. On the feast of Purim the pious Jew was recommend
ed " to make himself so mellow that he shall not be able to
distinguish between ' Cursed be Haman' and ' Blessed be
Mordecai.' " From the Mosaic provision of divorce,* the
conclusion was deduced that a man might divorce his wife
whenever he found a woman handsomer and more to his lik
ing, since his wife no longer found " favor in his eyes." On
matters in which the confession of ignorance is the height of
wisdom, the scribes spoke with the most unblushing assump
tion of knowledge. They detailed with minute particularity
the location, magnitude, and physical aspects of heaven and
hell, and the classes, qualifications, offices, and conduct of the
angels and demons. Concerning truth, duty, and practical
* Deut. xxiv., I.

Chap. XIV.] THE PHARISEES. 189
righteousness, the masters of the schools, with some notable
exceptions, were almost, if not altogether, silent.* And while
it is certainly true that some of the Rabbis inculcated a pure
and high-toned morality, more frequently the spirit of even
the purest ethics was purely mercenary. " Consider for whom
thou dost work, and what is thy master, who will pay thee thy
wages," if not the highest, was certainly the most common in
centive to such virtues as were occasionally commended by
the purer portion of the Pharisaic party.f
Of this literature, the scribes, of whom such frequent men
tion is made, in the Gospels, were at once the authors and ex
pounders. They took the place, though they did not fulfill
the functions of the ancient prophets. . They copied the law,
wrote commentaries upon it, taught the Scriptures and the
oral traditions in schools established throughout the land, en
gaged with each other in fruitless and often heated discus
sions, and were, in short, the theologians and literati of an age
whose literature and theology was such as we have described.
Pharisaism, like its literature, was a composite of contradic
tions, singular and perplexing to those who are unmindful of
the self-contradictions of human nature, who forget that both
Tetzel and Fenelon were Roman Catholics, both Barebones
and Robinson were Puritans. Among the Pharisees were
not a few who, possessing a partial appreciation of the spirit
ual significance of the law, Were in some measure prepared for
at least the ethical teachings of Jesus. Such were the young-
lawyer who declared that love; to God and man was the first
commandment of the law;! the' scribe who said that to love
* See Stehelin,vol. i., p. 21-103.
t A recent article on the Talmud in the Quarterly Review, reprinted in Lit-
tell's Living Age, January 4, 1868, has presented with great ability, but still
greater partiahty, the favorable aspects of this literature. A truer portrait,
though one less striking, is given in the Journal of Sacred Literature for Jan
uary, 1868. For English authority consulted in the preparation of this brief
sketch, and to which the reader is* referred for fuller information, see Appen
dix. See also a measurably full portraiture of the literature and the literati
in Pressense', Life of Christ, book i. , chap. iii. , § 5, 6. X Luke x. , 25-28.

190 JEWISH RELIGION AND INFIDELITY. [Chap. XIV.
the Lord with all one's heart, and one's neighbor as himself,
was more than all whole burnt-offerings and sacrifices ;* the
rulers who believed on Jesus, but dared not profess his name
for fear of the Jews ;f the Nicodemus who came to him by
night ;! the Joseph of Arimathea, in whose tomb he was bur
ied;! perhaps the Simon at whose house he sat at meat;||
and, in later days, the Gamaliel who resisted in the Sanhedrim
the policy of persecution,^ and those of the sect of the Phar-
sees who, retaining their reverence for the Jewish law, yet
joined the Christian Church.**
But this party was neither strong in numbers ,nor in cour
age. They possessed some appreciation of the truth, but
dared not suffer for it. They were inclined to welcome Je
sus as a new and rare teacher, but dared not avow them
selves his disciples.ff They took no part in his condemna
tion, but, if they were present, dared not openly oppose it. JJ
Their feeble conservatism was overborne by the intolerant
zeal of the sect whose principles they were far from justify
ing, but with whom, for ecclesiastical and political reasons,
they were inseparably identified. The Romish Church had
its Erasmus and its Fenelon ; the Pharisaic party its Nicode
mus and its Joseph of Arimathea ; but neither can be accept
ed as. types of the party to which they severally belonged.
In spite, then, of some pure spirits in the Pharisaic party,
and some pure precepts in their inculcations, the characteris
tic feature of their religion was a formalism which thinly covr
ered a spirit in appearance intensely religious, in fact thor
oughly opposed to that spirit of love which Moses, as well as
Christ, declared to be the end of the law. Accounting them
selves the children of God, the Pharisees were nevertheless
compelled to yield allegiance to the Gentiles, whom they re
garded as servants of the devil. Thus the intense but narrow
* Mark xii., 33. t John xii. , 42. J John vii., 50.
§ Mark xv., 43. || Luke vii., 36. f Acts v., 34-39.
** Acts xv., 5. ft John vii., 50-51.
XX Compare Luke xxiii., 50, 51, with xxii., 70, 71.

Chap. XIV.] PHARISAIC RELIGION. 191
patriotism which summoned them to resist the outrages of
Antiochus degenerated into an embittered pride, which found
expression in the declaration of the Talmud, "A single Is
raelite is worth more before God than , all the people who
have been or shall be." Accounting themselves the servants
of the Most High, by an easy transition they assumed to be
the sole authoritative exponents of his will. Thus the faith
which sustained them in the hour of early trial, in later com
parative prosperity degenerated into a fanaticism that de
nounced every antagonist as an enemy of God. Possessing
a zeal which flamed out against the corruptions imported
from the Gentile world, and resisting the persecutions of a
cruel king even unto death, they knew not how to extend to
others the comparative religious liberty they had secured for
themselves, but misdirected their energies in compassing sea
and land to make one proselyte, not to the pure faith of their
fathers, but to the puerile creed of the degenerate sons. Set
ting themselves at first apart from the world by a real and
earnest adherence to principle, and adopting as their party
name the word Pharisee, or Separatist, after their mission
had been accomplished, and the faith for which they at first
contended had become in the main the faith of the nation,
they still remained separatists, not by the superiority of the
principles which they maintained, or the purity of the life
which they led, but by their exhibitory piety and their life
less orthodoxy. They fasted and prayed with great regular
ity and precision, but generally in public and for applause.
They paid tithes of all they possessed, but their alms-giving
was no free-handed utterance of loving hearts, but a formal
though scrupulous observance of an ancient law. They man
ifested the religion they professed, not by engraving the di
vine precepts on their hearts and writing them in their lives,
but by inscribing them on pieces of parchment which they
bound upon their foreheads, and by engraving them upon the
lintels of their doors.
Even their belief in immortality degraded their conception
9

192 JEWISH RELIGION AND INFIDELITY. [Chap. XIV.
of virtue. Religion became a trade. They had no idea of
serving God for naught. " Three things," so ran their prov:
erb, " will make thee prosper — prayer, alms, and penitence."
They kept strict accounts with Jehovah. They paid for their
sins by their fastings. They earned the kingdom of God by
their observance of his ritual. That they neglected his spir
itual laws perhaps rarely or never occurred to them. So that
they made long prayers, they devoured widows' houses with
untroubled consciences ; for their hypocrisy was unconscious
hypocrisy, and they hid not less from themselves than from
others the selfishness of their hearts by the seeming piety of
their lives.
Pharisaism was, we have said, the religion of Palestine.
Sadduceeism was its infidelity. Like its adversary, a system
of error equally pernicious though less fantastic, it grew in
like manner from a simple and sublime truth.
Three hundred years before Christ, Antigonus, revolting
from the mercenary spirit of the Pharisees, already beginning
to develop, enunciated the sentiment, " Be not like servants
who serve their master for the sake of receiving a reward, but
be like servants who serve their master without a view of re
ceiving a reward." This sentiment his followers perverted
in the following century into the doctrine that divine justice
is administered in this present life, and that there is no
ground to hope for a reward or to fear punishment in the
life to come. They denied the Pharisaic fiction of an oral
tradition. They depreciated, if they did not reject, the his
torical and prophetical books of the Old Testament. The
Pentateuch alone they accepted as the undoubted word of
God. Belonging for the most part to the priesthood, the
maintenance of the ritualism of the Mosaic dispensation was
indispensable to the preservation of their order. And their
faith was commensurate with their interest. When, there
fore, their opponents pressed them with the question, " Where
will you find authority for the doctrine of the future state if
you do not accept the added revelation of tradition ?" they

Chap. XIV.] SADDUCEEISM. 193
replied, For it there is no authority, and the doctrine is not
true. Thus, as the Pharisees' faith in immortality begot the
oral tradition, So the Sadducees' repudiation of the oral tradi
tion begot disbelief in immortality.
From this beginning of conflict grew up a system mainly
of negations, to be interpreted, therefore, mainly by the Phar
isaic system of which it was the antagonist. Whatever the
Pharisees believed, the Sadducees denied. The Pharisee laid
great stress upon divine rewards and punishments. The Sad
ducees demanded that virtue be practiced for its own sake.
The Pharisee dwelt upon the immortality of the soul, and, to
sustain his faith, resorted to the fiction of an oral tradition.
The Sadducees denied the authority of aught but the Scrip
tures, and repudiated the doctrine of immortality which ad
mittedly was not contained in the Mosaic law. The Phari
sees developed a fanatical faith in a fatalistic Providence.
The Sadducees, at first insisting on the free will of man, ended
by denying the reality of divine control, and by the declara
tion that man is the sole master of his own fate. The Phar
isee built up a petty but vigorous ceremonial. The Sadducees
preached a loose and easy morality, the motto of which was,
" Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die." The Pharisee
was an intense, but bigoted and exclusive Jew. The Saddu-
cee was a cosmopolitan, quite ready to affiliate with the Gen
tile if place, or power, or wealth could be obtained by the
compromise. The Pharisees were the teachers of the people,
and secured their reverence by the austerity of their life and
doctrine. The Sadducees comprised more frequently the
priestly class, and, never speaking from or to the heart, con
sisted almost wholly of men of cold and heartless culture.
The scribes and Pharisees were the degenerate sons of the
prophetic order; the Sadducees the corrupt descendants of
the sons of Levi : the Pharisees intense religionists ; the Sad
ducees cynical and scoffing philosophers.
The contest between them was not confined to wordy ar
guments. It repeatedly broke out in open violence. It

194 JEWISH RELIGION AND INFIDELITY. [Chap. XIV.
plunged the nation into civil war. It resulted at the last in
the Jewish subjugation by the Roman legions. Like the long
conflict between Protestant and Romanist, that desolated
France, it combined the rancor of a conflict of ambition for
political power with the embittered hate of a perverted con
science struggling for religious supremacy.
Yet, in the time of Christ, both made common cause against
him. To destroy them both was in part his mission. That
he should have denounced so earnestly the formalism of the
Pharisees, and said so little of the infidel philosophy of their
opponents, may seem singular. It has even been accounted
as an indication that he was indifferent to the one, opposed
only to the other. His comparative silence, however, war
rants no such conclusion. He perceived that Sadduceeism
would die with the cessation of the conflict on which it fed.
Like all negations, with the overthrow of the errors it com
bated, it has perished of inanition. Not a remnant of this
once haughty and powerful sect remains. Not a trace of
their influence has survived their entombment. Not a line
even of their literature has been preserved to bear witness to
their philosophy ; and their character and teachings can only
be gathered with much research, and in much uncertainty,
from the casual notices in the Gospels, and from the descrip
tion which is afforded of them by their foes.
Any comprehensive account of the religious sects in the
time of Christ must include a brief mention of the Essenes.
They were the Shakers of their age. They lived in com
munities by themselves. They discouraged marriage. The
higher orders forbade it. They maintained an absolute com
munity of goods. They abhorred alike war, slavery, and
commerce. Their lives were regulated by an inflexible sys
tem administered by an absolute ecclesiastical superior. The
hours of prayer, meals, labor, were all fixed by rigorous rules.
Their doctrine was simple, but mystical. Their morals were
pure, but austere. Their religious forms were observed with
a rigor which even surpassed that of the Pharisees, but they

Chap. XIV!] THE ESSENES. 195
were accompanied with a life of practical virtue which rarely
found a parallel in the Pharisaic life. They were initiated
into the order by a secret service and a novitiate of three
years, and were, at its close, bound by the most solemn oaths
" to observe piety, justice, obedience, honesty, and secrecy."
For violation of his oath, the offender was excommunicated.
Having sworn that he would receive no food save from his
own sect, arid driven by excommunication from their table,
he perished miserably of starvation. Four thousand of these
ascetics lived in settlements of their own, chiefly in the wild
region which borders the Dead Sea. They did not intermingle
with their own countrymen. They exerted no influence upon
the religious. opinions and practices of their neighbors. They
never seem to have come in contact with Christ. They are
never once mentioned by him or his biographers ; and this
brief mention of them is here recorded rather that the reader
may have a complete picture of the various religious sects
which characterized Judaism, than because a knowledge of
their habits casts any special light upon the life of Jesus.*
From this brief but seemingly necessary digression, we re
turn to the story of Jesus's life.
* De Quincey has soberly maintained, and with some acumen, that the Es
senes were no other than the disciples of Christ, and that they were misrep
resented by. Josephus, through whom most of our knowledge of them comes.
— De Quincey, Historical and Critical Essays, vol. i., The Essenes. This
view has never found a second advocate ; and though there are some points
of resemblance in life and doctrine, the antagonism in spirit between the ex
cessive bondage of the one and the freedom of the other is too strongly
marked to admit of being interpreted away. See, for a good outline of this
contrast, Plumptre on Christ and Christendom, p. 164, note.

196 THE SABBATH QUESTION. [Chap. XV.

CHAPTER XV.
THE SABBATH QUESTION.*
{ HE controversy between Jesus and the Pharisees
commenced on the Sabbath question.
Moses had established in the wilderness, by
God's direction, one day in seven as a day of rest.
He had placed the provision for its observance in
the fundamental law — the Hebrew Constitution. It was en
graven therewith on the tables of stone which made sacred
the inner court of the tabernacle. It was written therewith
on the stuccoed monument which Joshua built at Mount Ge
rizim. There is even reason to suppose that it antedates the
long Egyptian captivity, and that in its establishment Moses
was but reinstating a patriarchal institution which had fallen
into disuse, almost into oblivion, f
To a nation of slaves who had known only the drudgery
of toil, a day of rest was truly a godsend. It was a memorial
day. It reminded them of their grievous bondage and of
their divine deliverance. It was a prophetic day. In the
weary wanderings of the wilderness, its constant recurrence
pointed them to the promised rest in the land into which the
God of their fathers was bringing them, and to that oth
er and more perfect rest of a sweet immortality, of which
it was the vaguely apprehended shadow. On this day that
toil which was the duty of all other days was solemnly for
bidden. The nation not only might rest — it must. Domes
tic life was relieved of all but the most inevitable toil. The
merchant's caravan bivouacked for a day of repose. The
* John v. ; Matt, xii., 1-21 ; Mark ii., 23-28 ; iii., 1-12 ; Luke vi., 1-11.
t For a statement of the reasons on which this opinion rests, see Dr. Tayler
Lewis in Lange on Gen., p. 196-198.

A.D. 32.] THE MOSAIC SABBATH. 199
busy porter laid down his burdens. The plow rested in the
half-finished furrow. No hand might drop the grain in the
opened ground, or gather the ripened and waiting harvest.
Not even a fire might be kindled beneath any roof in Pales
tine. A genuinely democratic day it was — the poor man's
special charter of liberty. Mistress and maid claimed alike
its privileges and felt alike its obligations. The veriest slave
in all Palestine felt the shackles fall from his limbs. The
very cattle breathed that day the air of unwonted freedom.
The curse of the law, " By the sweat of thy brow shalt thou
earn thy daily bread," was lifted on this holy day from all the
wearied toilers of the brier-bearing earth.*
This day of rest for the body was made available for the
spiritual benefit of the soul. It was a day of holy convoca
tion^ The sacrifices of the Temple were doubled.! The
shew-bread was changed.§ The inner court of the Temple
was opened for solemn services. | The Levites took this occa
sion to instruct the people in the law.***! The prophets seized
on this day of the people's rest for their day of most advan
tageous labor.** At the same time, the idea of rest, and even
recreation in its true significance, was the prominent idea in
the early Jewish observance. It was no day of burden and
of bondage. A memorial of emancipation, it was itself an
emancipator. It is true, it was kept holy to the Lord ; but
to the ancient Jew holy day and holiday were synonymous,
and festal celebrations were enjoined as well as prayer and
praise. On this day of joy and gladness both were com
mingled. The pious Jew welcomed its return with glad-
ness.ff He reflected on the works of God with deep and
earnest thankfulness.!! He gave utterance to his emotions
not only in the song of praise in the sanctuary, but by festal
* Exod. xx., 8-11 ; xxiii., 12. t Exod. xii., 16 ; Isa. lxvi., 23.
X Numb, xxviii., 9. § Levit. xxiv., 8. || Ezek. xlvi. , 1-6.
f Compare Deut. xxxi., 11-12, with Acts xv., 21 ; xiii., 14, 15.
** See 2 Kings iv., 23. tt Psalm cxxii., 1.
XX Psalm xcii. Title, A" Psalm or Song for the Sabbath day.
9*

200 THE SABBATH QUESTION. [Chap. XV.
scenes at home.* David remembered it as a day of joy and
praise.f Hezekiah reinstated it in the reformation, with the
Passover, by a national feast of exuberant gladness.! Nehe-
miah dissuaded the people from their tears, and commanded
them to keep it as a day of joyous feasting. § Hosea threat
ened the Jews with its deprivation as a judgment for their
iniquities. || And the later Jews, while setting apart some
portion of the day to religious observances, spent the remain
der " in festal cheerfulness, in receiving and returning the
visits of friends, and in dances, and games, and juvenile ex
ercises."1^ In the degeneracy of the nation this day fell into disuse.
The industries of the world trenched upon it. Trade was re
established. Business was resumed. The almost insuperable
difficulties of observing the day while in Babylonish captivity
obliterated it from the Jewish calendar, almost from the Jew
ish memory. This day, which God had established as a cov
enant sign between him and his people, perished when the
covenant broken by them in reiterated transgression bound
him no longer.
The Pharisaic party, protesting against the usurpations of
heathendom, undertook to reinstate the Sabbath. In this re
spect they followed the example which had been set them by
Hezekiah, Nehemiah, and the later prophets. The reform was
timely. But they did more than reinstate it ; they made it
the object of an idolatrous regard, the central feature in a re
ligion wholly ceremonial. The brazen serpent, which had
saved Israel in the wilderness, served Israel in the promised
land as an idol.** The Sabbath which Moses had established
as a sign of covenant between God and his ancient people
became more important in the estimation of the Pharisees
than the covenant itself. They cared more for the tables of
stone than for the law which was engraved thereon. " ' Re-
* Levit. xxiii., 2, 3. t Psalm xiii. , 4. % 2 Chron. xxix.
¦ § Neh. viii., 9-13. || Hosea ii., 11.
f Priaulx, Quaes. Mos., p. 28. ** 2 Kings xviii., 4.

A.D. 32.] THE PHARISAIC SABBATH. 201
member the Sabbath day to keep it holy ;' this is the first and
great command." Such was, in substance, their epitome of
the Mosaic legislation "The Sabbath," says the Talmud,
" is in importance equal to the whole law." " He who shall
duly observe all the rites and customs of the Sabbath shall
obtain the pardon of all his sins, even though he hath been
guilty of idolatry."*
Great as was the honor which they paid the Sabbath, they
wholly failed to comprehend its import. Their literalism
tainted its observance as it tainted all else. This memorial
of emancipation became a day of bondage. On this hour of
freedom redeemed from a life of toil the soul was manacled
by the most puerile and petty regulations. One might not
walk upon the grass because it would be bruised, which would
be a kind of threshing ; nor catch a flea, which would be a
kind of hunting ; nor wear nailed shoes, which would be bear
ing a sort of burden ; nor, if he fed his chickens, suffer any
corn to lie upon the ground, lest a kernel should germinate,
which would be a kind of sowing. And from Moses's com
mand to the encamped Israelites, " Let no man go out of his
place on the seventh day,"* because, despite the divine com
mand, they had gone forth from the camp to gather the man
na, Dositheus drew the sage conclusion that a Jew must not
move between sunrise and sunset, and established a sect
whose observance of the Sabbath consisted in their retaining
for the day whatever posture they happened to. be in at the
rising of the sun. Nor was his interpretation much more ab
surd than the more orthodox one that the Jews' place includ
ed a. radius of 2000 cubits,f and that a Sabbath-day's journey
of that length was therefore exempt from the prohibition of
the law.
It is true that the Pharisees did not forget what in modern
* Stehelin's Eabbinical Literature, p. 228.
t The length of the cubit is variously estimated at from 17£ to 21 inches.
If the Greek standard — 1 8.20 inches — be adopted, the Sabbath-day's journey
would be something over half a mile.

202 THE SABBATH QUESTION. [Chap. XV.
days we sometimes fail to remember, that the Sabbath is a
feast, not a fast. Isaiah had commanded that it be called a
delight. To this command they yielded a cordial obedience.
The day was one of festal rejoicing. Social entertainments
were part of its religious observance. Every week the
pious Jew repeated that Thanksgiving-day which New En
gland enjoys but once a year. Walking, social visiting, even
games and dancing, were part of the Pharisaic observance of
the Sabbath day. But they wholly failed to comprehend
that spirit of liberty which is the inspiration of all true joy.
Their festivities, no less than their rest, were ceremonials.
They lay late in bed by law. They put themselves under
bonds to fare sumptuously. They were joyful as a matter
of conscientious obligation. They accounted him the strict
est Sabbatarian who set the most affluent table. In short,
they caged the soul, and then commanded it to sing. They
knew not that the way to a joyous song is an open door and
a free air.
" Meet the Sabbath with a lively hunger ; let thy table be
covered with fish, flesh, and generous wine." "Let the seats
be soft, and adorned with beautiful cushions, and let elegance
smile in the furniture of the table." "Assume all thy spright-
liness." "Utter nothing but what is provocative of mirth
and good humor." "Walk leisurely, for the law requires it,
as it does also longer sleep in the morning." "Be resolute
and merry, though ruined in debt."* Such are some of the
Rabbinical precepts concerning the Sabbath. Whatever else
may be said of them, they certainly do not sustain the popu
lar conception of the Jewish Sabbath as a day of rigorous
asceticism. On the contrary, if we may believe the not al
together impartial testimony of the early Christians, it was
too often wasted in idleness, and degraded by sensuality and
drunkenness.f In brief, the Pharisaic Sabbath combined a strange inter-
* Stehelin's Eabbinical Literature vol. i., p. 263.
t Augustine, quoted in Cox's Sabbath Literature.

A.D. 32.] CHRIST'S SABBATH OBSERVANCE. 203
mingling of rigorous restraints in respect to labor with great
freedom in social festivities.
Jesus never said or did any thing which a reasonable con
struction can interpret as indicating a desire to pluck away
from a weary world its divinest institution, a weekly Sab
bath. He distinctly asserted that he did not come to abro
gate the Mosaic laws, but to fulfill them ;* and the Sabbath
will never have its final fulfillment until the day when the
wicked cease from troubling and the weary are at rest. He
never, it is true, directly inculcated its observance upon his
disciples. He never referred to it in the partial summary
which he once or twice, afforded of the Ten Commandments, f
But this will not seem strange to any one who reflects that
the Sabbatic law was the first and most characteristic feat
ure of Judaism. Other nations had their temples, their
feasts, their sacrifices, their priests, their prophets, their sa
cred writings. Even the rite of circumcision was not un
known among the Gentiles. The Jew alone knew and ob
served a Sabbath day.! *"-* needed, therefore, no inculcation
from one who had come to turn the minds of men from the
exterior observance to the interior spirit, from the temple to
the God who sanctified the temple, from the literal observ
ance of the Sabbath to the repose of soul which is found alone
by those who dwell in the secret place of the Most High.
Divine alike in its origin and its beatific character, it was
none the less an institution and an observance. And Christ
came not to build institutions, which are in their very nature
transient, but to set forth principles, which are everlasting.
But there is no indication that Jesus engaged himself in
secular work on the Sabbath, or encouraged his disciples to
do so. If they had plied their customary labor, casting their
* Matt, v., 17. t Mark x., 19 ; Luke xviii, 20 ; Matt, xxii., 37-40.
X The weekly division of time is to be found among all nations, but there
is no adequate evidence that a hebdomadal day of rest was known out of Ju
dea. See Smith's Bible Dictionary, arts. Week and the Lord's Day. See
contra Dwight's Theology, vol. iii., serm. cvii., p. 255.

204 THE SABBATH QUESTION. [Chap. XV..
nets, for example, on that day, it would certainly have been
recorded against them. But not even Jewish tradition con
tains any such charge.* On the other hand, Jesus habitually
attended the synagogue services with his disciples on the
Sabbath, and so, by his example, recognized its value, if he
did not by his inculcations directly maintain its obligations, f
His followers did not understand that he took from them this
ancient Jewish privilege. A weekly Sabbath became after
his death as characteristic a feature of the Christian Church
as it had been of the Jewish commonwealth. And although
the day has been changed, if not by the direct authority of
the master, by the general consent of his disciples ; although
its sanctions are no longer those of a civil code, enforced by
stringent penalties ; although it finds its best support, not in
the conscience, but in the spiritual aspirations of mankind ;
and although its spirit has been somewhat modified, and will
be still more changed when the precepts and examples of
Christ are fully comprehended, still the monumental day of
rest remains, the chief, if not the sole heir-loom inherited by
Christianity from the magnificent and stately system of cer
emonies and observances which characterized its predeces
sor. On the other hand, it will be regarded by some as a singu
lar, and must be esteemed by all a significant circumstance,
that Jesus never rebuked what modern Pharisaism would
certainly esteem a desecration of this holy day. It Was, as
we have seen, a festival. He never attempted to check the
festivities which characterized it. He walked out with his
disciples.! In respect to this, as well as to all other observ
ances of a ceremonial character, the tendency of his practice
and of his teachings was to liberate the soul from every thing
like Judaical bondage to the outward form. He attended
* See Goldstein's Jesus of Nazareth, passim, and Salvador's Trial and Con
demnation of Jesus. In these Jewish works all the charges of Judaism are
ably presented against Christ. There is no pretense of any personal disre
gard of the Sabbath by him or his disciples by any actual secular toil.
t Mark vi., 1-3 ; Luke iv., 15, 16, 31 ; xiii., 10. J Matt, xii., 1.

A.D. 32.] A DAY OF FREEDOM. 205
without scruple social gatherings ;* for where the heart was
already opened by seasonable social intercourse, he found the
best opportunity for his most sacred instructions. The the
ory which forbids to converse, to sing, to laugh, to walk upon
that day because it is holy to the Lord, is of as late a date
as the sixteenth century ,f and finds as little warrant in the
Mosaic institution as it does in the precepts and example of
Christ himself.
But, while he neither relaxed on the one hand the obliga
tion of secular rest, nor rebuked on the other the social fes
tivities that shared the day with public worship, he repudi
ated with indignation the Pharisaic traditions which made
this day of rest and gladness one of rigid observance and le
gal bondage. He protested against the spirit which, on this
memorial day of emancipation, manacled the hands and the
hearts of the children of God. He repelled with especial in
dignation the idea that its hours were too sacred for labors
of mercy and of love. He took from it nothing but its
chains. He found it a day of rest to the body, but of weari
ness to the spirit. He left it a day no less of refreshment to
the mind and of recreation to the soul. He found this cut
ting from the tree of life a dead form, leafless, blossomless.
He infused it with new life, clothed it with verdure, and filled
its branches with the singing of birds. He found it a law;
he left it a privilege. As a gardener in autumn guards his
more delicate plants by enwrapping them with straw, so the
Jews had endeavored to preserve this their ancient Sabbath
by wrapping it around with dead traditions which they called
"guards of the law." Jesus tore off these wrappings. The
* Luke xiv., 1,7, 12.
t Even the Westminster Assembly overruled the proposition that ' ' there
be no feasting on the Sabbath, " and substituted that the diet be so ordered
as not unnecessarily to keep servants from public worship. See, for a full
account of the debates and the final action, Coxe's Sabbath Literature, vol. i.,
p. 229, 230. It is hardly necessary to add that Luther, Melancthon, Calvin,
indeed all the Continental reformers, regarded the Sabbath as characteristic
ally a festival. See Coxe's Sabbath Literature, passim.

206 THE SABBATH QUESTION. [Chap. XII.
Pharisees cried out against the desecration. But the spring
had come. And Christ preserved the Sabbath which to their
eyes he seemed to be destroying by endowing it with a new
life in itself—a life which these wrappings were repressing,
and ere long would have extinguished.
But this was not all.
The Pharisaic Sabbath was the strong-hold of Pharisaism.
It was to the Jews what the cross is to the Roman Catholic,
the emblem of his religion. A day of ceremonies, it was the
very heart of ceremonialism. It was, therefore, the first ob
jective point of Christ's attack. A wise general, he struck
for the key of the Pharisaic position. By open, flagrant, re
peated, and purposed violations of the Pharisaic traditions, he
inaugurated the conflict not merely between himself and the
Pharisees, but between spiritual life and ceremonial law. For
a second time he went up to Jerusalem. Before, it was to
cleanse the Temple ; now, it was to emancipate the Sabbath.
His first assault was on the degenerate priesthood; his sec
ond was on the degenerate prophets.
Near one of the gates of Jerusalem was an intermittent
spring. It possessed, as such springs often do, some medicinal
virtues.* Its periodical effervescence had given rise to a beau
tiful legend that on certain occasions an angel descended and
troubled the water ; a legend which has since become incor
porated in the sacred text as a partial explanation of the
events there recorded, f That this is a legendary, not an in
spired interpretation, will hardly seem doubtful to any one
who considers how inadmissible is the supposition that " God
would really thus miraculously interpose to throw down from
time to time a single boon among a company of cripples, to
be seized by the most forward, selfish, and eager, leaving
* For a reference to several such springs, see Ebrard's Gosp. Hist., p. 291.
t John v. , 4. " For an angel went down at a certain season into the pool
and troubled the water : whosoever, then, first after the troubling of the water
stepped in, was made whole of whatsoever disease he had. " This verse is
omitted as a subsequent interpolation by Alford, Tholuck, Ebrard, Trench,
and Olshausen. It is retained by Bloomfield, and doubted by Lange.

A.D. 32.] THE HOUSE OF MERCY. 207
those most discouraged, helpless, and miserable to be over
whelmed again and again with bitter disappointment."*
About this pool a shelter for the sick had been erected, that
had received the significant and pleasing title of House of
Mercy, in the Hebrew tongue Bethesda. Passing this porch
on the second morning after his arrival in the holy city,
Christ's attention was attracted by the hopeless look of a
helpless cripple. For thirty-eight years he had lain in bond
age, probably to that most intolerable of despots, the paraly
sis — a long imprisonment, and a fearful punishment, as the
account incidentally indicates, for some sinful excesses of his
youth, f Day after day he had dragged himself laboriously
to this station. At every periodic troubling of the water a
new hope had been born in him. But on every such occasion
some one less helpless than himself had stepped down before
him, and snatched from the hand of the angel the gift he had
hoped to receive. The House of Mercy was thus to him like
Hades to a second Tantalus. The long-deferred hope had
made his heart sick, and had stamped upon his features the
expression of despair.
Jesus fixed his eye upon him ; by the question, " Wilt thou
be made whole ?" aroused his will, which was already begin
ning to suffer a paralysis akin to that of his body, and, deep
ly moved by the simple but touching story of his experience,
gave him liberty by the command,
" Rise, take up thy bed, and walk !"
Though the little mattress upon which this poor man was
lying was no great load, to bear it on the Sabbath day was a
direct violation of the letter of the ancient law-! Christ's
command contravened, therefore, not merely the tradition of
the Jews, but the form of the inspired statutes. If Christ's
object in this flagrant violation of Jewish prejudice was to
raise an issue, he succeeded. The paralytic was straightway
called to account for bearing his bed on the Sabbath, and
* Abbott's New Testament, in hco. t John v., 14.
X Neh. xiii., 19 ; Jer. xvii., 21, 22, 27.

208 THE SABBATH QUESTION. [Chap. XV.
only escaped condemnation by pleading the command of the
unknown Rabbi who had healed him. The accusation was
therefore transferred to Jesus, who was examined, whether
formally before the court, or informally before the multitude,
does not very clearly appear. He was indicted, however,
not for the command he had given, but for the cure he had
wrought. Jesus replied, in effect, that the Jews entirely misappre
hended the idea of the Sabbath rest. God himself, so said
the ancient record, rested on the seventh day, and therefore
blessed and hallowed it. But God's rest was no inaction.
Flowers bloomed ; rain fell; the sun shone; all the beneficent
operations of nature went on as usual. On that day, as on
every other, Bethesda was a House of Mercy, and the angel
intermitted not his accustomed visits. This divine example
interpreted the Sabbath rest — a day for laying aside of cus
tomary toil, but not for the inactivity of love, which knows
no rest. So we understand his somewhat enigmatical sen
tence, " My Father worketh hitherto, and I work."
This parallel seemed to the Jews to imply an assumption
of equality with God, and they dropped the lesser charge of
Sabbath-breaking to prosecute the more heinous one of blas
phemy. Jesus justified their deduction, but defended him
self from the charge by asserting his divine character and
mission ;* and from these two charges he escaped with his life
only by that overruling Providence of God which the evan
gelist has indicated in his subsequent declaration that Christ's
hour had not yet come.
The question which Jesus had thus raised in Jerusalem fol
lowed him to Galilee.
Shortly after this occurrence, he was passing one day with
his disciples through a wheat-field. By an express statute
of Judaism, any one might pluck of standing wheat a hand
ful as he passed,f as by the common law of New England
any one may pick a single apple of the orchard from the
* John vi., 19-47. f Deut. xxiii., 25.

A.D. 32.] TEACHING IN GALILEE. 209
ground without being deemed guilty of trespass or theft.
The disciples plucked some ears of the wheat, rubbing them
in their hands, and eating the kernels. The Pharisees at once
protested against this new infraction of their Sabbath. There
was not, so they would argue, so much harm in the act as in
what it would lead to. If Jesus might pluck with the hand,
the owner might gather with the sickle. If the one might
break the kernel in the hand, the other might grind it in the
mill. It is impossible to draw the line. Such is still the ar
gument of Pharisaism.*
But Jesus always cared more for the liberty of the many
than for the perverted consciences of the few. He defended
the act by the enunciation of a principle so comprehensive
that few fully appreciate, so radical that few fully accept it.
He declared, in effect, that ceremonies are never of the es
sence of religion. Every Sabbath twelve loaves of bread
were placed on the sacred table of the Temple. Like the con
secrated wafer, they were holy to the Lord. No one but the
priest might eat of them.f But David ate without condem
nation. Nay, every Sabbath was profaned by the priests in
the Temple without blame. The law forbade the kindling
of a fire. The priests brought the shew-bread smoking hot
from the oven on that day.! ^* forbade the bearing of bur
dens. They carried to and fro the loaves, the sacrifices, and
the Temple utensils. It forbade labor. That was the busi
est day of all the week to the tribe of Levi. A service that
required the slaying of bullocks and of goats involved no
little drudgery of toil. Yet the streams that flowed from
Mount Moriah ran redder with blood on the Sabbath than at
any other time. But the priests were blameless. If the
Pharisees had understood the ancient prophets, they would
have known that the requirements of mercy are always great
er than those of sacrifice, and that for humanity's sake, much
* The plucking of wheat on the Sabbath is expressly prohibited by the Tal
mud. — Lightfoot, quoted in Alford on Matt, xii., 1.
t Exod. xxix., 32, 33. X 1 Sam. xxi., 6.

210 THE SABBATH QUESTION. [Chap. XV.
more than for the Temple's sake, the literal law of the Sab
bath may be set aside ;* for the Sabbath was made for man,
not man for the Sabbath.f
This declaration struck at the very heart of ceremonialism.
One must be willing to die for a principle. No one ever in
sisted on this more strenuously than Jesus. " If any man
hate not his own life also, he can not be my disciple," passed
into a proverb with him.! But he need not even suffer a
pang of hunger to preserve intact a ceremony ; for there is
no institution however memorable, no ceremony however sa
cred, that it is not subordinate to man's use, and subject to
modification when it ceases to serve its purpose, or when a
higher law or a more imperative need interferes.
It was apparently on the same day that Jesus healed the
paralytic. § He was in the synagogue. The Pharisees had
accompanied him thither, not for worship, still less for in
struction, but to watch for heresies in his discourse. The her
esy-hunter is a lineal descendant of the ancient Pharisees.
Christ seized the opportunity to give them what they want
ed, a ground of accusation. A man was present with a with
ered hand. The disorder was not serious, probably not pain
ful. The cure might have been left, without harm, till the
following day. To cure him on the Sabbath directly violated
a Rabbinical precept. || Jesus told the patient to stand forth.
He then addressed to the Pharisees a very simple question —
" Is it lawful on the Sabbath day to do good, or to do evil ;
to save life, or to destroy it ?" It was a terrible thrust, sharp,
quick, keen. They were planning to kill Jesus. Jesus was
preparing to heal a paralytic. Which was breaking the Sab-
* The verse in Matt, xii., 6, " In this place is (one) greater than the Tem
ple," is susceptible of two interpretations. The structure of the sentence
seems to justify the meaning ordinarily attached to it, that Christ referred to
himself, and indicated his right to modify the Sabbath law. The context,
however, indicates the other interpretation — Mercy is greater than the Tem
ple, and if the Sabbath may be set aside for the Temple service, much more
for the service of love. + Mark ii., 27.
X Luke xiv., 26. Compare John xii., 25. § Mark Hi., 1-6.
|| See Townsend's New Test. Notes, part iii., n. 39.

A.D. 32.] ANGER OF THE PHARISEES. 211
bath? No wonder they held their peace. Then he turned
upon them with indignation. Not one of you, said he, but
would pull your sheep out of a pit to-day ; and how much
better is a man than a sheep ? Wherefore it is lawful to do
good on the Sabbath day. Thereupon he told the man to
stretch forth his hand whole as the other, while the Pharisees
went out to council how they might destroy him.*
They were sorely perplexed, however. Christ had not even
violated the letter of the Sabbath. He had done nothing. He
had simply said " Stretch forth thy hand," and it was difficult
to condemn him for mere words. He had not plucked the
wheat ;f and his disciples they cared not for. It was the
Rabbi himself they hated. He had openly reviled their re
ligion. He had trampled under foot their Sabbath. He had
exposed their insincerity to all the people. He had put them
to open shame in the great congregation. Their chief seats
in the synagogue had become as criminal benches. They had
watched that they might accuse him, and he had turned the
tables upon them and become their accuser. They were
filled with rage. . They verily believed, too, that this new
Rabbi who was bringing them to open shame was also un
dermining the authority of religion, and the faith and institu
tions of their fathers. To them it seemed that the safety of
the Church and of the state demanded the suppression of this
horrible heretic. Thus religious rancor added to wounded
pride and personal envy. They were conscientious in their
persecutions of Jesus. But nothing is so vindictive as a per
verted conscience. How far it carried them is evidenced by
the fact that they invited their hereditary foes, the Herodi-
ans, to their councils.!
The people, on the other hand, little as they appreciated
the spirit of Jesus, openly applauded his dexterity. § The
* The effect of this home-thrust is seen in the fact that, by a subsequent
provision of Rabbinical law, it has been forbidden to lift the beast out of the
pit, though the owner may lay planks to let him out ! (Alford on Matt, xii.,
14), or give him food and straw to lie on (Lange's Life of Christ, iii., 170).
t Mark ii. , 23. % Mark iii. ,6. § See Luke xiii. , 1 7.

212 THE SABBATH QUESTION. [Chap. XV.
populace are always apt to attach themselves unthinkingly
in such a controversy to the one who is keenest in thrust and
quickest in repartee. That he had silenced the Jewish Rab
bis added new lustre to Christ's already increasing fame.
Crowds flocked to see and hear him* from all parts of the
Holy Land. To them he was no Messiah, but only the last
new sensation. He preached strange doctrines and wrought
strange cures — this was about all they knew. Such fame as
this was exceedingly distasteful to Jesus. He retired more
within himself, f He procured a boat by which he could
easily escape from the throng.! He cautioned those whom
he healed not to bruit their cures abroad. § But it was im
possible for him to escape the publicity of popularity. It is
one of the misfortunes of public men to have many adherents
and few friends; and between un appreciative homage and
appreciative persecution there is but little to choose.
It was quite clear that this controversy between the relig
ion of the heart and that of ceremony could not be settled in
a single life. The time had come when in the bosom of the
old Church Christ must organize a new one that should take
its place. * Mark iii., 7, 8. t Matt, xii., 15.
% Mark iii., 9. § Matt, xii., 16 ; Mark iii., 12.

A.D. 3?.] NUCLEUS OF THE CHURCH. 213

CHAPTER XVI.
THE MUSTARD SEED.*
JHE Church of Christ is a growth rather than an
organization. This is not our philosophy. It is,
in effect, Christ's statement. He compared his
Church to a mustard seed, " which, indeed," said
he, " is the least of all seeds, but when it is grown
it is the greatest among herbs, and becometh a tree, so that
the birds Of the air come and lodge in the branches thereof. "f
It is of the planting of that mustard seed we have now to
speak. It was clear, as we have said, that the battle which Jesus
had initiated could not be carried to its consummation during
his earthly life. It must be left an inheritance to others. It
was to be a campaign of centuries, which he, indeed, would
conduct, but by his spiritual, not his earthly presence. Hu
manly speaking, all(he could do during his brief stay upon
the earth was to select a few appreciative disciples, imbue
them with his spirit, instruct them in his principles, and leave
them to carry on after his death, and under his inspiration,
that work, the most powerful instrument of which would be
afforded by his cross. He could only give to the world its
needed truth in seed.forms ; others must sow it in tears, pluck
out the worldly weeds that choke its growth, water it with
their blood, and patiently watch its development through the
long centuries. He who had seen from the beginning this
necessity, from the beginning had gathered about him a few
fitted to be the custodians of this later and more blessed rev-
* Matt, v., 1 ; x., 1-4 ; Mark iii., 13-19 ; Luke vi., 12-16.
t Matt, xiii., 31, 32.

214 THE MUSTARD SEED. [Chap. XVI.
elation than that which the hand of God himself inscribed on
the tables of stone. He now began to give to this nucleus
of his future Church a form, slight, indeed, but somewhat
more precise and defined than it at first assumed.
Among the crowds who thronged him wherever he went
were some who had already instinctively attached themselves
to his person — among them some women, who, a little later,
followed him wherever he went, received the ministrations of
his word, and themselves ministered to his bodily wants.*
From these more appreciative hearers Jesus selected twelve
to be in a peculiar sense his disciples. It is impossible not
to perceive in this number a recognition of the ancient theoc
racy with its twelve tribes. Christ, who spake often by acts,
and with significance greater even than that of his words,
thus indicated to the Jewish nation his purpose to establish
a new theocracy, or to reinstate, in a new and spiritual form,
the old one. This purpose was not left to be merely a matter
of surmise. He distinctly asserted, in a phrase which it must
be confessed is somewhat enigmatical to us, that these dis
ciples should hereafter sit on twelve thrones, judging the
twelve tribes of Israel. f
These disciples were not merely such as chanced to attach
themselves to Jesus. They were carefully selected by him
from the greater number of his adherents.! Christ himself
was careful to declare this just before his death. " Ye have
not chosen me," said he, " but I have chosen you ;"§ a sen
tence from which the conclusion has been sometimes deduced
that the Christian is peculiarly the chosen of God, but which,
in its connections, seems to warrant no other conclusion than
that Christ selects and adapts his instruments to their vari
ous work.
But when we endeavor to ascertain the principles upon
which, in the case of the twelve, that selection was made, it
must be confessed the subject presents some perplexities.
* Luke viii., 2, 3 ; Mark xii., 41. t Matt, xix., 28 ; Luke xxii., 30.
X Luke vi., 13. § John xv., 16.

A.D. 32.] THE APOSTLES. 215
With perhaps two exceptions, there was nothing remarkable
about these men except their attachment to Jesus. They
produced no profound impression upon their own age. They
occupied no very important position in the Church after
Christ's death. James, the brother of Christ, who was not
even a believer in Jesus till a much later period, seems to
have occupied a more prominent position in the early Church
than even Peter or John.* Paul, who was now growing up
with his parents in the distant city of Tarsus, or learning in
the school of Gamaliel that Pharisaic philosophy in the de-
* Acts xv., 13, with Gal. i., 19, indicate that it was James, the Lord's broth
er, who occupied a prominent position as a leader in the Church at Jerusalem
after Christ's death. There are three persons of the name of James mention
ed in the New Testament history : James the son of Zebedee and brother of
John, James the son of Alpheus, called also James the Less (Matt. x. , 2-4 ;
Mark iii., 17-19 ; Luke vi., 14-16 ; Acts i., 13), and James the brother of
Jesus (Matt, xiii., 55 ; Mark vi., 3). Whether the two last may not be iden
tical is a question involved in great uncertainty, and pronounced by Dr. Ne-
ander the most difficult in apostolic history. On the one hand, it is said that
the mother of James the Less is Mary, and, apparently, the wife of Cleophas
(Mark xv. , 40) ; that there is reason to regard Cleophas and Alpheus differ
ent forms of the same name ; that this Mary was a sister of Mary the moth
er of Jesus (John xix., 25) ; that the designation of James and Joses, etc.,
as brethren of Jesus, is a Grsecism for near relatives, the relation being that '
of own cousins ; and that Paul distinctly designates James, the brother of the
Lord, as an apostle (Gal. i., 19). On the other hand; it is said that the asser
tion that Jesus had brethren is repeatedly made (Matt, xiii., 55 ; Mark vi.,
3) in such connections as to refute the idea that cousins only are referred to
(Matt, xii., 46 ; Mark iii., 31 ; Luke viii., 19 ; John ii., 12) ; that the moth
er's sister mentioned in John xix., 25 is not Mary the wife of Cleophas, but
the Salome mentioned in Matt, xxvii., 56 ; Mark xv., 40, the combined pas
sages reading thus : " There stood by the cross of Jesus (first) his mother — "
(John); (second), "his mother's sister" (John), that is to say, "Salome"
(Mark), who was also " the mother of Zebedee's children" (Matt.) ; (third),
"Mary, the mother of James and Joses" (Matt.), "the wife of Cleophas"
(John), (the same name as Alpheus, see Matt, x., 3) ; and (fourth), " Mary
Magdalene" (Matt. , Mark, and John) ; that to suppose, as the other hypothe
sis does, two sisters of the same name, Mary, is irrational ; and, finally, that
it is distinctly asserted, after the formation of the apostolic band, that Jesus's
brethren did not believe in him (John vii. , 5). The latter opinion seems to
me to be the better supported by Scripture, and is the one I have adopted,
though the subject is one of great difficulty, and the question will probably
never be altogether settled.
10

216 THE MUSTARD SEED. [Chap. XVI.
struction of which he was to take so prominent a part,* was
more influential in extending the Church after Christ's death
than any, we might almost say than all the original disci
ples. Those whom Christ selected for the germ of his future
Church were wholly from the peasant population of Pales
tine. With a single exception they were Galileans. That
exception was Judas Iscariot.f They were simple-minded
men, of no considerable mental culture, of no rare qualities
of genius, of no great mental grasp, of no remarkable heroic
qualities even. If Christ chose them that he might show the
world what he could make out of very common stuff, and to
demonstrate that his kingdom stood not in human great
ness, but in the power of God, they were admirably selected,
we should say, for such a purpose. Yet let us remember that
they are presented in perpetual contrast with their Master;
and no human greatness but would be belittled by the com
parison. The names of these twelve, whose names Jesus alone has
rendered immortal, were Simon, also called Peter, Andrew,
James, John, Philip, Nathaniel, the son of Tholmai, and often
designated by his father's name as Bartholomew,! Thomas, a
certain tax-gatherer called both Levi and Matthew, a second
James, Lebbseus, a second Simon, and Judas, better known as
Judas Iscariot.§
Of the history and character of these disciples we know
but very little. Anxious only to give the world a portraiture
of their Master, they have preserved little or none of them
selves. They were not all of them first brought together by
Christ. James and John, who were brothers, appear to have
been own cousins of Jesus. || Peter and Andrew were part-
* Acts xxii., 3. t See post, chap, xxix., Treachery. -
X See chap, viii., p. 103, note.
§ Matt, x., 2-4; Mark iii., 17-19 ; Luke vi., 13-16; Acts i., 13.
II Salome, their mother (Mark xv., 40; Matt, xxvii., 56), appears from John
xix., 25 to have been Mary's sister. See p. 215, note.

A.D. 32.] MENTAL CHARACTERISTICS. 217
ners in business with them.* Philip seems to have been ac
quainted with these four fishermen before he knew Jesus, and
evidently was an old friend of Nathaniel or Bartholomew, f
It is commonly said that the apostles were illiterate men.
It is certain that they had little or no knowledge of the Rab
binical literature of the age. They were untrained in the
theological schools of their time ; they were all laymen ;!
there was neither a priest nor a scribe among them. Their
minds were equally free from the conventionalism of that life
less religion which characterized Pharisaism, and from the
false culture of that effete civilization which belonged to
Greece. Their illiterateness was their best preparation to re
ceive without prejudice the principles of that new and spirit
ual religion which Jesus had come to found. Even to the
present day, the learning of the schools is apt to generate a
theological atmosphere which dims the pure light of the Gos
pel, and the simple student of the Word often best grasps
its spirit, though he be not best versed in its letter.
Illiterate though they were, these first disciples were not
altogether ignorant men, nor chosen, as is sometimes imag
ined, from among the lowest classes. They were men of what
we should call a religious nature. Four of them Jesus found
at the ford of Bethabara, listening with attentive ears to the
words of John the Baptist.§ A fifth had evidently looked
with them for the coming of the hope of Israel. || They were
not without some culture. They probably had, all of them,
enjoyed the benefits of that popular education which even in
those degenerate days characterized Judaism. Philip^]" and
Peter** were both acquainted with the Greek language. The
former was perhaps a Hellenist by birth ; at least his name
would indicate this. The same may be said of Andrew.
Matthew was a ready and methodical writer. The effect of
* Luke v., 7, 10. t John i., 43-45.
X Acts iv., 13. See Alford's note. § John i., 36, 37, 42, 44.
|| John i., 45, 49. f John xii., 20 ;. Acts viii., 26, 30.
** Acts x., 4 ; and note the Epistle general of Peter.*

218 THE MUSTARD SEED. [Chap. XVI.
his training as a keeper of the public moneys is to be easily
seen in his gospel, the most systematic and orderly in its ar
rangement of the four. Peter was a man of considerable
means, lived in his own house,* where he hospitably enter
tained Jesus, and evidently considered that he had made
no little sacrifice in leaving his business to follow Christ.f
James and John lived with their father, who was able to
keep hired servants, and to carry on his fishing operations on
a somewhat extensive scale.! Tne latter had such relations
with the high-priest as gave him easy access to the palace. §
On the whole, it may be inferred that Jesus chose his apos
tles from that middle class which Abraham Lincoln has called
" the plain people," to which by his earthly birth Jesus him
self belonged, and from which God's providence has general
ly chosen the world's great men.
Mental genius often more than compensates for lack of cul
ture ; and there is a certain moral genius, a spiritual appre
hension of divine truth, and invincible faith in its final vic
tory over material things, which is more than either. It was
this moral genius which characterized alike Moses, the framer
of the old theocracy,|| and Paul, who was, under Christ, the
builder of the new. But neither mental nor moral genius
strongly characterized these twelve chosen companions. Pe
ter and John are the only remarkable men among them, and
they are chiefly what they were made by the influence of
Jesus. Their early life, so far as it is indicated to us by the
evangelists, would have given to any apprehension but that
of Christ little promise of their later power. John, sharing
at first with the other disciples in their expectation of an im
mediate and temporal triumph, ambitiously asks from his
cousin preferment in the coming kingdom. % Scarcely less im
petuous by nature than his friend and comrade Peter ; quick
to rebuke an imagined rival of his Lord ;** ill brooking any
* Luke iv. , 38. t Matt, xix., 27. J Mark i. , 20.
§ John xviii., 16. || Heb. xi., 24-28.
1 Matt. xx. , 20-24. ** Mark ix. , 38.

A.D.32.] PETER AND JOHN. 219
insult to his master, and anxious to repay it by a quick re
venge,* he and his brother James possess by nature a char
acter which earns for them from Christ the title of Sons of
Thunder, f Youngest of the twelve,! he most readily im
bibes the spirit of Jesus, and is the beloved disciple, not so
much by reason of the original congeniality of his character
as by the faith which never doubts, and the strong heart that
never relaxes its earnest, reverent love, and that moulds,
therefore, the whole nature into conformity to his Lord. Si
mon, bold, dashing, impetuous, the Marshal Ney of the little
band, is by his very faults endeared to us ; but, the least sta
ble of the disciples, he strangely belies his title Peter, i. e., a
rock. He starts to walk to Jesus on the wave, but loses cour
age almost as soon as he touches the water ;§ impetuously re
fuses to let Christ wash his feet, as impetuously offers his
head and his hands ;|| draws his sword to fight single-handed
the Roman soldiery, turns and flees when Christ commands
him to put it up ;Tf follows Christ into the palace, but there
denies with violent vituperation that he is a disciple ;** is
one of the first to baptize the Gentiles,ff then retracts from
his position for fear of Jewish opposition in the Church.!!
Such is not the material of which heroes are ordinarily made.
These two disciples stand out, perhaps, in greater promi
nence by reason of" the strong contrast between them. John
is a man of contemplation, Peter a man of action ; John is
the metaphysician, Peter the pioneer; John is ever quickest
to perceive a truth, Peter is ever quickest to act upon it ;
John outruns Peter to the sepulchre, but is held back by rev
erent awe from entering in ; Peter, fearless of angels, and op
pressed by no such sense of holy ground, goes in unhesita
tingly ;§§ John first discerns it is the Lord when, after his res
urrection, he appears to the disciples on the Sea of Galilee ;
* Luke ix., 54. + Mark iii., 17.
X See Smith's Bible Diet., art. John the Apostle, and passages there cited.
§ Matt, xiv., 28-30. || John xiii., 6, 8, 9.
f John xviii, 10 ; Matt, xxvi., 56. ** John xviii., 15, 17, 25-27.
+t Acts x., 47, 48. XX Gal. ii., 11-13. §§ John xx., 3-9.

220 THE MUSTARD SEED. [Chap. XVI.
Peter plunges into the sea to go to greet him ;* John, too full
of quiet thoughts for ready speech, was never a popular
speaker ; Peter, too impatient and impetuous for the pen, was
the revivalist of the first century, at whose preaching thou
sands were convicted and turned to Christ ;f John, less pop
ular in his own age, has been better appreciated as the world
has grown better able to understand the spiritual subtleties
of his character ; Peter, foremost in the early Church, fore
most to carry the Gospel to the Gentiles,! first to defend that
pioneer work in the council of the Church,§ has gradually
lost the prominence which an active temperament always
awards the living and denies the dead.
This very contrast in their characters cements a firm friend
ship between them, which constitutes one of the most charm
ing episodes in the minor incidents of the Gospel history.
We love to see this man of passionate activity and this man
of tender contemplations walking through life always arm-in
arm. Together they go down to attend the preaching of the
Baptist at Bethabara.|| Together they are cleaning their
nets by the Sea of Galilee, when Jesus summons them to for
sake all and follow him.-Tf Together they alone of the twelve
are found in Caiaphas's hall, listening with anxious ears to
the trial of their Lord.** Together he finds them after his
resurrection at the Sea of Galilee, ff Together they go up to
the Temple to join in mutual devotions.!! Side by side they
stand confronting the Sanhedrim in the earlier persecutions
of the Church.§§ It is Peter who, at the Last Supper, asks
John to find out from the Lord who is the one who shall be
tray him. || || It is after Peter that John, more privileged than
the rest, goes to gain for him, also, admission to the palace of
the high-priest, after the apprehension of Jesus in the gar
den. *Tf *T And it is after the future fate of John that Peter asks
* John xxi.. 7. t Acts ii., 14-42. X Acts x. §Actsxv.,7.
|| John i., 35, 41. f Luke v., 1-11. ** John xviii., 15, 16.
tt John xxi., 1-9. XX Acts iii. , 1 . §§ Acts iv., 13.
IHI John xiii., 24. f If John xviii., 15, 16.

A.D. 32.] ENIGMAS. 221
when his own martyrdom is foretold. The friendship which
bound together the preacher and the scholar of the Reforma
tion finds its prototype in the love which unites the Luther
and the Melancthon of the first century.
Such were the natural leaders in this chosen band. For
the rest, the disciples were plain, common, matter-of-fact men.
Christ's enigmatical sayings were a perfect puzzle to them.*
He loved to mould truth in paradoxes, apothegms, and poetic
forms. Their prosaic natures perpetually stumbled over his
utterances. He cautions them against the leaven of the Phar
isees. They straightway begin to discuss the matter among
themselves, coming to the sage conclusion that he is afraid
lest the Pharisees shall sell them poisoned bread, f He ad
monishes them to get ready their swords for the spiritual
conflict that is at hand. They innocently produce two swords
as evidence that they are prepared.! He asks Philip what
they shall do to provide for the five thousand on the shore
of Galilee. Poor Philip, sorely perplexed, can think of no
other provision than their own scanty stock of five loaves and
two small fishes. § After three years of closest communion
with his master, he surprises even Jesus by the request at the
close of Christ's life-manifestation of God, " Show us the
Father, and it sufficeth us."|| Thaddeus frankly confesses
himself quite unable to understand the meaning of that fu
ture spiritual disclosure of the unseen Christ which is the in
spiration of every true follower of him. " How," he says,
" wilt thou manifest thyself to us and not unto the world '""H"
Thomas, puzzled by Christ's prophecy of his death, and un
inspired even by hope of those mansions which Christ prom
ises to prepare for them, avouches the spiritual inapprecia-
tion of the twelve by his declaration, " Lord, we know not
whither thou goest, and how can we know the way ?"** Ut-
* See, besides references below, Matt, xv., 16 ; Mark vi., 52 ; John xvi.,
16-18 ; Mark ix., 31, 32. t Matt, xvi., 6, 7. X Luke xxiL, 35-38.
§ John vi., 5-9. || John xiv., 8. f John xiv., 22.
** John xiv. , 5.

222 THE MUSTARD SEED. [Chap. XVI.
terly disheartened by the death of the supposed Messiah, he
plants himself on modern rationalistic ground, and stoutly
asserts that he will not believe in the resurrection of Jesus
except upon the evidence of his own senses. "Except I shall
see in his hands the print of the nails, and put my finger into
the print of the nails, and thrust my hand into his side, I will
not believe."* Evidently we are mistaken in clothing these
twelve peasants in the glowing garments of romance, and at
tributing to them either remarkable power of mind or re
markable measure of faith, if by that we mean the spiritual
apprehension of unseen realities. There is not one of them
who might not well have repeated the confession of Paul,
" By the grace of God I am what I am."f
They were not even selected from the most moral portion
of the community. Prominent among them was a despised
tax-gatherer-! Less prominent another, whose previous iden
tification with some of the turbulent factions which kept Pal
estine in a perpetual ferment earned for him the title of the
Zealot. § Even Simon Peter possessed by nature the Orient
al vices of profanity and falsehood, characteristic of a wild
and turbulent nature, intensified by the wild and turbulent
life of a sailor ; vices which, despite his long companionship
with Jesus, returned, as such evil habits sometimes will, from
the dead past, to overwhelm him with shame and confusion
in the crisis hour of his life . |j Among the women who con
stantly attended his ministry was one who certainly pos
sessed, before he spoke peace to her soul, the wild and un
governable nature of a demoniac, *\ and who was, in addition,
if the surmises of some of the scholars be correct, a dissolute
and abandoned woman.** In short, Jesus admitted sinners
as well as publicans as associates. In the terse and power
ful language which he so frequently employed, he asserted
that the publicans and the harlots entered his Church before
* John xx., 25. t 1 Cor. xv., 10. J Matt, x., 3.
§ Luke vi., 15. || Mark xiv., 66-71. 1 Luke viii., 2.
** Luke vii., 37-39.

A.D. 32.] ORGANIZATION OF THE CHURCH. 223
the more correct but self-righteous Pharisees.* He was ac
customed to say that he came to call, not the righteous, but
sinners to repentance ;f a principle of selection which Phar
isaism understands as little now as it did then. Nor did this
repentance always prove genuine or permanent. In lurid
light stands one of these twelve, Judas Iscariot, whose gross
and earthly disposition, slumbering but not slain, reconquered
the better nature which Jesus had awakened, and gave at last
his master to a death of immortal honor, and himself to one
of undying infamy and shame.
Such are the companions whom Jesus selects to accompany
him in his itinerant ministry, to witness his cures, to hear his
instructions, to receive the interpretation of his parables and
apothegms, to be witnesses of his sufferings, his death, and
his resurrection, and so to be prepared to co-operate in car
rying on the work which he was by his death to inaugu
rate.! ^¦ae fo™1 of their organization was as slight as the
principles of their selection were peculiar. In fact, there was
nothing which could be designated as an organization. Je
sus provided no Constitution. He appointed no officers. He
left the Church to form itself in the future as circumstances
might dictate. He absolutely forbade titles of rank.§ He
rebuked the disciples' aspiration after power in the new com
munity.! He told them there was no pre-eminence but that
of love, and that he who served the best was the greatest in
the Church. % He forbade them from prohibiting others to
preach or work cures in his name because they had not joined
his Church.** It is true that, at a later period, he announced,
in an enigmatical manner, the authority of his twelve friends
to lock and unlock the gates of heaven, and to pronounce the
remission of sins.ff But there is nothing to indicate that
he conferred this power, whatever it may be deemed to be,
* Matt, xxi., 31, 32. t Matt, ix., 13 ; Mark ii., 17 ; Luke v., 32.
X Mark iii., 14, 15. § Matt, xxiii., 8-12.
|| Matt, xx., 20-23 ; Mark x., 35-45.
If Matt, xviii., 3, 4 ; Mark ix., 35, 37 ; John xiii., 12-17.
** Mark ix., 38, 39. tt Matt, xvi., 19, 20 ; xviii., 18 ; John xx., 23.
10*

2S4 THE MUSTARD SEED. [Chap. XVI.
upon any individual or class in the Church.* The relations
of his disciples to civil society remained unchanged. The-
Christian Church was no separate community as were the
Essenes. Peter was married, and lived, as far as their wan
dering life would allow, in his own home.f They paid the
Temple tax uncomplainingly.! And their master, though
" King of the Jews," commanded unresisting payment of
tribute to the Caesars. §
As little were they separated from the world by any out
ward signs. The Pharisees were separatists, and professed
their religion by their dress, demeanor, and postures. Their
religious language was one of elaborate ceremonialism. Even
John the Baptist, reformer as he was, could not escape the
universal and all-pervading atmosphere of the times. Who
ever entered his community must, enter through the door of
baptism. His disciples were taught to be rigorous in fast
ing,! an(^ were instructed in forms of prayer. % In Jesus's
little community there was not, in the beginning, one single
ceremony. No rite was necessary to enter this first Christian
Church; no public ceremony set apart the applicant. The
Lord's Supper was not established till the close of Christ's
life, and there seems to be no sufficient ground for the as
sumption that it was then ordained exclusively as a Church
ordinance.** Baptism was not adopted by Christ till aft
er his resurrection, and it was then ratified and made sacred
by a new significance rather than commanded as a necessary
service, ff There is no evidence that any one of the twelve
ever received what we should call Christian baptism, i. e.,
* It does not come within the province of this treatise to discuss the ques
tion of the primacy of Peter. Most Protestant readers at least will agree
that whatever eminence he possessed belonged to his character, and not to
any office that he filled. t Luke iv. , 38, 39. % Matt, xvii., 24, 27.
§ Matt, xxii., 16-21. || Matt, ix., 14.
f Luke xi., 1. ** See Chap. XXX— The Lord's Supper.
tt Matt, xxviii., 19. Mark xvi., 16, 17, makes belief, but not baptism, es
sential, though it is by far the strongest passage in support of the necessity
of that ordinance. It is not found in some of the oldest MSSI , and its gen-

A.D. 32.] EARLY CREED. - 225
the baptism in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of
"the Holy Ghost. Christ never administered the rite.* And
though there are reasons to think that the four disciples, Pe
ter, Andrew, Philip, and John, who joined Jesus first at the
Jordan, may have been baptized by the Baptist, since they
were previously his disciples,f yet it is clear that such a bap
tism was not recognized as a Christian rite by the apostles.!
This entire absence of all ceremonies not only gave offense to
the Pharisees, but was a cause of serious perplexity to the
honest disciples of John. They questioned whether one could
really be the Messiah whose views on baptism and ablutions
were so lax, and who positively disowned all observance of
religious fasts. § Even his own disciples came finally to him
for a ritual like that which they had already been taught by
the Baptist, but received instead that brief compendium of
devotion, which has been no form, but a model of prayer and
reverent praise to the everlasting Father throughout all Chris
tendom ever since. ||
As he gave them no ecclesiastical Constitution, appointed
them no officers, and established no ceremonies until at least
a later day, so neither did he propound to them any creed.
This little band of Galilean peasants possessed at first no dec
laration whatever of doctrine. Even so short and simple a
confession of faith as " Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ" was
of later origin as a formula of admission to the kingdom of
God. In fact, it would be exceedingly difficult to say what
these disciples did believe at this early period of their history.
They had clearly no conception of the necessity of Christ's
sacrifice, no expectation even of his death.*-1! They but
¦ uineness is matter of grave dispute among Bible critics. See Lange's note,
in loco.
* John iv. , 2. E/3anTi?£v, the imperfeot, indicates the habitual practice.
t John i., 36, and post.
X Acts xix., 1-5. See Robert Hall on "Terms of Communion," and on
" The essential Difference between Christian Baptism and the Baptism of
John," vol. i., p. 363, Gregory's edit, of Hall's Works, Harper and Brothers,
1 839. § John iii. , 25, 26. || Luke xi. , 1 . f Matt. xvi. , 22.

226 THE MUSTARD SEED. [Chap. XVI.
vaguely, if at all, apprehended his divine nature.* This they
learned only by long companionship with him. It was not un
til a much later period that even the boldest among them as
serted Christ's divine sonship.f From the beginning, indeed,
they perceived in him the Messiah,! but it was a Messiah who
was to reinstate the throne of David, occupy it himself, and
share its honors with his followers.§ They left all to follow
Jesus, but it was with at least some indefinite expectations
of an early and substantial recompense ; and Peter doubtless
expressed the unuttered hopes of the rest when he asked what
they should receive therefor. ||
Personal love for a personal Savior — this was the power of
their organization. They had very vaguely - formed faiths
about Christ, but implicit faith in him. They left all to fol
low Jesus, with no clear idea whither he was leading them.
They placed themselves under his absolute mastership, with
no clear conception what he would make of them. Little as
they could comprehend the meaning of his crucifixion, his dis
closure of its approach only attached them more strongly to
him.**f Others might fall away when the hope of temporal
sovereignty was dispelled, but, sorely as they were perplexed
by his enigmas, the answer of their hearts to his plaintive
question, " Will ye also go away?" was the naive rejoinder,
" To whom shall we go ?"** He was literally in himself all
and in all to them.
The possession of this all-absorbing personal love for Jesus
was the one characteristic of the chosen members of his little
community. Nothing they could do seemed to their hearts
too much. To break the box of alabaster ointment was the
natural expression of a heart that could find no language too
costly in which to utter itself, ff To sink at his feet, washing
them with tears and wiping them with the hair of her head,
was the unartificial service of one to whom no service of love
* John xiv., 8. t Matt, xvi:, 16. % John i., 41, 45.
§ Luke xix., 1 1 ; Matt, xx., 20-28. || Matt, xix., 27.
f Mark xiv. , 31 . ** John vi. , 66-69. ft John xii. , 3-8.

A.D. 32.] PERSONAL ALLEGIANCE. 227
to him seemed unfitting.* To demand fire from heaven on
the village that, violating the sacred rites of hospitality, re
fused him entrance, was the first thought of one who could
patiently brook insult to himself, but could bear no affront to
his master.f An absolute, unqualified allegiance was the
simple but severe test which excluded many would-be dis
ciples from the kingdom of God. None could join the army
who did not surrender himself completely to his king. At
times Christ seems purposely to have repelled those that
sought him that he might test the ardor of their seeking, and
that he might be embarrassed by no lukewarm disciples.
Camp-followers never increase the strength of an army. On
one occasion, followed by crowds, he turned about and told
them in hyperbolic language that no man could be his dis
ciple who did not hate his lather and mother, and his own
life also-! On another occasion a scribe proposed to join the
little community which accompanied him. Christ replied
that, if he did, he must share the privations of the master who,
worse provided than the birds and the foxes, had not where
to lay his head.§ To one who preferred the seemingly rea
sonable request that he might go home and bury his father,
he replied that his disciples must leave the dead to bury their
dead. || A young man who wished to join the society he com
manded, as a condition, first to sell all his property, and give
to the needy, that he might be as poor as his Lord.1" These
incidents indicate the kind of tests to which the twelve were
subjected, as preliminary to that final test which the scenes
of the crucifixion afforded to their dimmed faith, their shat
tered hope, their perplexed love.
Thus Jesus, with the fan of self-sacrifice in his hand, sifted
out from the mass of curious and inappreciative followers**
a few, remarkable for little else than the ardor of their devo-
* Luke vii., 36-39. t Luke ix., 54. i Luke xiv. , 25-27.
§ Matt, viii., 19, 20. || Matt, viii., 21, 22.
t Matt, xix., 16-22. Some of these incidents will be referred to again in
the order of their occurrence. ** Luke iii., 17.

228

THE MUSTARD SEED.

[Chap. XVI.

tion to his person, and the readiness of their confiding and
unprejudiced minds to receive his teaching. Gradually they
had more and more attached themselves to him. The time
had now come for him to separate them by a solemn ordina
tion from the world, set them apart to the work of their min
istry, and instruct them more comprehensively than he had
hitherto done in the principles of that kingdom of which
they were to be, in some sense, the founders, together with
him.

A.D. 32.J PREPARATION. 229

CHAPTER XVH.
THE INAUGURAL ADDRESS.*
I SCAPING from the bustle of the town, the crowd
of followers, and the angry glare of the inau
gurated conflict, Jesus, as the dusk of twilight
gathered over the shores of the Sea of Galilee,
turned his back upon it, to find in the hill-coun
try a brief respite, an hour of quiet contemplation of the
darkening future and of preparation for it, and, above all, a
night of communion with his Father — a solitary hour, when
least of all he was alone, because God was with him. All
night the stars looked down upon a scene of prayer ineffably
more solemn than that wherein Jacob wrestled with the an
gel from whom with difficulty a blessing could be wrested,f
or that when Moses in the veiled mount talked face to face
with the God! whose incommunicable name the Jew dared
not even so much as take upon his lips. Thus in prayer
were the foundations of that church laid whose circumfer
ence was to inclose the whole earth, whose top was to reach
the heavens. At the break of day, selecting from those of
his disciples who had followed him hither with impatient
footsteps the twelve apostles, he set them apart by solemn
ordination to be the chosen companions of his life and the in
spired witnesses of his teachings, his death, and his resurrec
tion. Then, descending with them, not to the lake-country,
but to the elevated plateau some one of whose higher crests
had served him as a place of prayer, and gathering them
about him in an inner circle, separated from the already
* Matt, v.-vji. ; Luke vi., 20-49. t Gen. xxxii., 25-32.
X Exod.. xxxiv., 28.

230 THE INAUGURAL ADDRESS. [Chap. XVII.
waiting multitude by. that invisible line which still separates
from the world those that are " in the world, but not of the
world," he announced, with an authority that needed no
thunderings or lightnings to add to their divine sanction, the
fundamental principles of the kingdom of God.*
As the traveler, following nearly the footsteps of Jesus,
ascends from the shores of the Sea of Galilee into the hill-
country which bounds it on the west, he observes a singular
square-shaped hill, with two cones rising yet above it like the
towers above the top of a flat-roofed church. This hill a
* There are two reports of the Sermon on the Mount — one by Matthew,
v., 1-viii., 1 ; the other by Luke, vi., 20-49. They are quite different. That
given by Luke is much briefer, and is said to have been delivered on a plain,
vi., 1 7. Matthew indicates that the sermon was given on a mountain, v., 1.
These differences have led to the hypothesis that there were two sermons,
one delivered to the disciples alone, recorded by Matthew, the other given on
the plain below, involving in part the same matter, and addressed to the mul
titude. So Dr. Eddy (Life of Christ, p. 312, 313), following Lange (Life of
Christ, vol. ii., p. 380-383). Similarly Augustine, Calvin, and Tbohick ; see
Tholuck on Sermon on the Mount, Bible Cab., vi., p. 2, 3. It is more gen
erally considered by modern scholars that there was but one discourse, ad
dressed peculiarly to the disciples, but in the presence of and with some ref
erence to the multitude, of which we have in the different reports only such
variations as would naturally occur in the subsequent record by different
writers. So Pressense" (Life of Christ, p. 361), Ebrard (Gospel History, p.
270-272), Neander (Life of Christ, p. 224), Bengel (Gnomon on Matt, v., 1 ;
Luke vi., 17), Olshausen (Commentary, Matt, v., 1), Robinson (Harmony,
§ 41), Townsend (New Test., p. 75, pt. iii., note 42). The discrepancy as to
place between Matthew and Luke is not serious, inasmuch as Matthew's as
sertion that he went up into a. mountain only signifies that he left the lake
to go up into the hill-country, and Luke's statement that he came down and
stood in the plain indicates nothing more than that he descended from one
of the higher peaks to the level plateau. So Ebrard, Wordsworth, Bloom-
field, Bengel, and Olshausen in hco. The Mount of Beatitudes singularly
answers all the conditions of the narrative (see next note), which may be
harmonized thus : " And it came to pass in those days that he went out into
a mountain to pray, and continued all night in prayer to God. And when it
was day he called unto him his disciples, and of them he chose twelve whom
also he named apostles (Matt, v., 1 ; Luke vi., 12, 13); and he came down
with them and stood in the plain, with the company of his disciples, and a
great multitude of people out of all Judea, etc., which came to hear him
(Luke vi., 17); and he opened his mouth and taught them, saying" (Matt.
v., 2).

A.D.32.] MOUNT OF BEATITUDES. 231
tradition not very ancient nor extrinsically reliable, but re
ceiving some confirmation from the nature of the ground,
assigns as the place where Jesus delivered his ever-memora
ble Sermon on the Mount.* Its summit is an elevated plat
form capable of holding a vast congregation, and seeming to
have been built by God for the very purpose of accommo
dating the congregation which gathered there to hear Jesus's
inaugural address ; while the " Horns of Hattin," by which
name the cones that rise still above this platform are known,
may well have afforded to Jesus that retreat into which he
ascended from the multitude, to which he summoned his fol
lowers, and from which, with them, he returned again to pro
claim to the people the fundamental principles of the king
dom he had come to inaugurate. The ever-memorable mount
where Jehovah met with the stern old lawgiver rises grand
but sterile out of a wilderness of singularly wild and desolate
grandeur, a fitting spot for the enunciation of a law whose
solemn sanction was, " The soul that sinneth, it shall die."
From that mount of fire and smoke the people drew back in
awe and terror. The mount, which Jesus's sermon has made
forever a sweetly sacred spot, rising from the midst of a
richly fertile country, its graceful form draped in summer
green, with luxuriant vineyards covering the neighboring
hill-tops, with the blue waters of the lake sparkling in the
dancing sunlight, with the singing of birds and the fragrance
of flowers filling the soft summer air, was a fitting spot for
that inaugural address whose promise of peculiar blessings,
nine times repeated, has given to the sacred hill its name,
the Mount of Beatitudes. Drawn by that strong attraction
* The tradition which assigns Mount Hattin as the place where the Sermon
on the Mount was delivered is not of itself entitled to much weight. Rob
inson's Researches, iii., p. 240-249 ; Thomson, The Land and the Book, ii.,
p. 1-8 ; Alford in loco ; Andrews, Life of Christ, p. 248. But it is not unrea
sonable, and is entirely in accord with the narrative. Ellicott's Life of Christ,
p. 169, note ; Stanley's Sinai and Palestine, p. 360, 361, chap, x., 2, § 1. See
Stanley for an admirable description of the hill and its adaptation to the pur
poses of this discourse.

232 THE INAUGURAL ADDRESS. [Chap. XVII.
which Christ exercised throughout his life, and has exercised
with increasing power ever since, the people thronged its
grassy slope, and a sea of upturned faces, listening, drank in
these ever-memorable words of hope, of joy, and of instruction.
The philosophizing spirit of which Plato was the father,
Aristotle the organizer, and Bacon the perfecter, had not yet
found its way into the Holy Land. The Oriental still speaks
far more to the imagination and to the heart than to the in
tellect. He studies far less than do we to systematize truth,
He loves to state it in parables, apothegms, paradoxes, sharp,
incisive sentences, that catch in the memory and remain
there. Truth is to him a poem, and poetry is the highest
truth. Christ spoke to the Oriental mind in Oriental lan
guage — rather let us say to the common mind in language
which every where finds easiest entrance to the common
heart. We are not to look, therefore, in the Sermon on the
Mount for that statement of religious truth which would
characterize a modern discourse given under like circum
stances. It is rather a collection of pertinent apothegms
and pithy sayings.
On the other hand, these are not thrown out as sparks
from a blacksmith's forge, brilliant, but evanescent. There
is a real connection between them, a real unity in the seem
ingly* disjointed discourse. Its customary division into
verses, paragraphs, and chapters give it an appearance yet
more aphoristic than the reality. It possesses an order, but
not that of a modern sermon. " The only logic," says Tho-
luck, " that Jesus observes is the logic of the heart." In a
general way, it may be described as giving the characteris
tics of that Messianic kingdom which all Israel was antic
ipating, by contrasting it, first, with the popular expecta
tions ;* second, with the Mosaic system ;f and, third, with the
Pharisaic formalism.! It closes with an account of the way
by which this kingdom may be won.§ It is the theme of
* Matt, v., 1-16. f Matt, v., 17-48.
X Matt. vi. ; vii., 1-6. § Matt, vii., 7-27.

A.D..32.] POPULAR EXPECTATIONS. 233
which Jesus's whole subsequent life is the development ; the
foundation on which the whole superstructure of Christian
ity is built ; the warp of the robe with which Christ has
draped the before unclad earth. The true inaugural of
Christ's Church, it contains "the quintessence of all that is
peculiar to the kingdom of our Lord."*
The Jews were expecting a restored kingdom. The bet
ter portion, the Simeons who were waiting for the hope of
the consolation of Israel, framed their anticipations of the
future from the memories of the past, and looked for a suc
cessor of Moses to re-establish the theocracy. The people,
reading the ancient prophecies founded on Mount Sinai with
a literalism which ought not to surprise us, since it finds con
stant counterpart in the scholarship of modern times, expect
ed a kingdom of Judaism like those of Greece and of Rome,
whose glory should resemble, yet eclipse that of the palaces
of Herod and the pageants of heathenism. Even Christ's
own disciples shared this expectation,f and needed to be
constantly reminded that the kingdom of God was not in
meat and in drink, nor, let us add, in riches and in power,
but in " righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost."!
Christ, at the outset of his discourse, sets forth the true
nature of that spiritual kingdom whose dominion shall know
no end. He portrays the truth that being is more than hav-
* Olshausen on Matt, v., i. For various explanations of the true analysis
of the Sermon on the Mount, see Tholuck on Sermon on the Mount, Introd. ,
p. 31 and post. Compare therewith Lange's Life of Christ, vol. ii. ; Lange's
Commentary, Matt, v., 1-16, Introd. ; Alford in hco, and Bull's Jesus and
the Twelve, which latter seems to me, however, wholly to miss the spirit and
meaning of the discourse. With the exception of Bull, who regards it as
directed against the spirit of selfishness, and Grosse, who depicts it as a ser
mon on true perfection, of which chap. v. , 48 is the text, all agree in regarding
it as a delineation of the Messianic kingdom, though they differ in details.
Compare, for a striking metaphysical analysis of this sermon, and a philo
sophical explanation of the metaphysics which underlie it, a pamphlet by
John Hecker, of New York, on "The Scientific Basis of Education. "
t See Luke xix., 11. X Romans xiv., 17.

234 THE INAUGURAL ADDRESS. [Chap. XVII.
ing, " the life more than meat, and the body than raiment."
The springs of joy are within the soul. Blessedness of spirit
is more than blessedness of circumstance. This truth is set
forth by the enunciation of a series of laws, by which, also,
he declares that there is in the spiritual realm a principle of
compensation; that each trait possesses its own peculiar
privileges ; that the fruits of the Spirit are not one, but
many. Blessed are — not the high-spirited, who make the world's
heroes, but — the poor in spirit, for to them the door of repent
ance and confession, which alone gives admission to the king
dom of heaven, opens with ease.
Blessed are they that mourn, for in the consolations which
the God of all comfort affords them, prophetic of that hour
when he shall wipe away all tears from their eyes, there is a
sweeter joy than in laughter and merriment.
Blessed are the meek, strong in the " unresistible might of
weakness ;" for, though they may possess less than their more
trenchant neighbors, diligent to have and sensitive to defend,
yet they understand far better the art of enjoying what they
possess, and so are the real inheritors of the earth.
Blessed are they who hunger and thirst after righteousness,
for this ambition alone is never disappointed; and as the
Bank of Heaven never breaks, so they whose wealth is in the
Spirit are never in danger of insolvency.
Blessed are the merciful, not only because their tender con
sideration of others reacts in tender regard by others for
themselves, but because to the froward God will show him
self froward, and to the merciful God will show himself mer
ciful.* Blessed are the pure in heart, for they see that God who is
veiled to ordinary vision, whom much searching can 'never
find outf — a truth which modern theology has yet to learn —
but who is as easily reflected in a pure and loving heart as
the sun in the clear waters of the placid lake at Jesus's feet.
* 2 Sam. xxii., 26, 27 ; Psalm xviii., 26 ; Prov. iii., 34. f Job xi., 7.

A.D. 32.] TRUE BLESSEDNESS. 235
Blessed are — not the war-makers, who ride into their earth
ly kingdoms over the prostrate forms of their conquered foes,
but — the peace-makers, whose lips not only speak words of
peace to combatants, but the silent influence of whose saintly
presence is such as speaks peace to troubled souls, as twilight
brings sweet quiet to nature ; for to men these shall carry
the most evident tokens of their adoption, and shall not
only be, but shall be recognized as, the children of the Most
High. Finally, blessed are those whose invincible fajth and high
ideals subject them to a martyr's life in their own genera
tion, for they shall receive not only coronation in the next,
but a nobler coronation in the unseen world, whose great
white throng have come out of great tribulation, and have
washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the
Lamb by following his footsteps and sharing his sufferings.*
This spirit of self-sacrifice is of the essence of Christianity.
It is the saline principle in the salt. It is the few in every
age who are willing to suffer for their convictions, not the
many who hold their convictions lightly, that alone save it
from corruption. It is ever the Moses who chooses " rather
to suffer affliction with the people of God than to enjoy the
pleasures of sin for a season,"f who redeems his generation
from the bondage of Egypt. The earthly crown of the
princes of God is ever a crown of thorns. And it is only by
a voluntary crucifixion for the truth that the Christian lets
his light so shine before men that they glorify his Father who
is in heaven.
Thus the kingdom of God is portrayed as one of character,
not condition ; as one of tribulation in the world, but as one
of good cheer also, because of the victory of faith which over
comes the world.! Surely we may pity the man who can see
in this etching nothing but the "Gospel of Ebionism." The.
kingdom of God is indeed " conceived as the advent of the
* Rev. vii. , 1 4. t Heb. xi. , 25. *
X John xvi., 33 ; 1 John v., 4.

.236 THE INAUGURAL ADDRESS. [Chap. XVII.
poor."* But " the poor of God," rightly says Augustine, " are
poor in heart, not in purse."f
The reformers of every age are accounted its heretics. The
thief cries "Stop thief!" louder than do his pursuers. Christ
has already been charged with preaching a lax morality and
pandering to the loose morals of the multitude, "just as the
Pope and his crew," says Martin Luther, " raise an outcry and
rail at us as heretics who forbid good works."! He is de
clared to be»an overturner of the law. And this charge
brought against him by his foes, it is easy to see, will yet be
taken up by his friends, who, because they are called unto,
liberty, will think that they are released from the obligations
of law, not knowing that the law of liberty is more inviolable
than that of bondage. This charge, therefore, Christ careful
ly and indignantly repels. His disciples are not to imagine
that he has come to preach an easier righteousness than that
of Moses or the Pharisees. He has come, not to destroy the
law, but to fulfill. Not a jot or tittle shall pass away with
out fulfillment. And whosoever shall relax§ its least obliga
tions shall be least in the kingdom of heaven ; for the right
eousness of his disciples must exceed that of the scribes and
Pharisees who reproach them with irreligion. ||
In a series of four specifications, Jesus discriminates be
tween the principles of the kingdom of God and the enact
ments of the commonwealth of Moses. His discrimination
has been a cause of considerable perplexity. There are still
many who imagine that Christ has abolished the ancient law
that he may substitute one of his own. If Judaism and Chris-
* Renan's Life of Jesus, chap, xi., p. 176.
t "Pauper Dei in animo est non in saccule." — Augustine, quoted in Alford.
X Tholuck, Sermon on the Mount, p. 176.
§ "Whosoever shall break one of these least commandments" — Greek \v<rn
—relax. || Matt, v., 17-20.
If Marcion boldly reversed the text, and substituted the reading, "Think
not J am come to fulfill the law or the prophets ; I am not come to fulfill, but
to destroy." The same substantial view is still maintained, though by no
such audacious criticism.

A.D. 32.] FULFILLING THE LAW. 237
tianity are set in contrast, and the latter is supposed to have
been built upon its predecessor, as the civilization of the An
glo-Saxon has been constructed in part out of the ruins of
that of Greece . and Rome. By others it is conceived that
Jesus fulfills the spirit of the ancient law by the infraction
of the letter,* though he distinctly asserts that not one jot,
i. e. the smallest letter, nor even one tittle, i. e. the smallest
fraction of a letter, shall perish unfulfilled. By yet others it
is supposed that he supplements the imperfection of the past
enactments by additions of his own ;f and by still others, that
he confers upon them a new meaning, filling up the outlines
which Moses roughly drew, as the painter fills up the rude
sketch which constitutes his model.! There will be, however,
no difficulty in comprehending that the discrimination which
Jesus has drawn in this discourse is itself the strongest con
firmation of the principles of the Mosaic legislation, if we will
remember what we are prone to forget, that the laws of Moses
were for the regulation of the nation ; the laws of Jesus are
for the government of the individual. It is indeed true that
some principles of personal conduct may be easily deduced
from the Mosaic statutes. This is especially true of the Ten
Commandments, the Hebraic Constitution. But they were
not proposed for that purpose. They are not adequate to that
end. And the attempt from the civil laws of the Great Re
public to deduce principles of personal conduct produces that
spirit of Pharisaism, that external compliance with what is
necessarily an external law, against which a true Christianity
is an ever-living protest. The most perfect obedience may
make an orderly community — it can never make a true man.
The whole7 Decalogue may be accepted as the law of the life,
* So, seemingly, Tholuck, Sermon on the Mount, p. 183 ; and Lange, quot
ing Tholuck, "There is a fulfillment of the letter which breaks the spirit ; a
fulfillment of the spirit which breaks the letter. — Lange, Life of Christ, vol.
ii., p. 403. t Socinus, quoted in Tholuck, Sermon on the Mount, p. 187.
X Theophyhct, quoted in Alford in hco. To these opinions should be added
that of the Jews, who insist that, by Christ's own showing, the Mosaic law is
still binding on mankind.— Tholuck, Sermon on the Mount, p. 177.

238 THE INAUGURAL ADDRESS. [Chap. XVII.
and still the scrupulous citizen shall ask, in his inmost heart,
" What lack I yet ?"*
Moses was the founder of a commonwealth. All his enact
ments perished in the using with the death of the nation of
which they were the statute law. Jesus is a builder of char
acter, and his enactments shall last till time shall be no more.
It was thus that Christ came to fulfill a law which he was
falsely charged with abrogating, by implanting such princi
ples for the regulation of individual conduct, and imbuing
with such life the individual heart, that the sanctions of an
external law would be no longer necessary. Certainly that
man has arrived at but a low state of morality who is kept
from theft by the law of the state, " Thou shalt not steal ;"
and he has been taught the truest fulfillment of that law
who has imbibed such principles of honesty as make him
quite oblivious of the statute.
This distinction between the life of the state and that of
the individual is the key to the interpretation of the contrast
between the civil statutes of Moses and the spiritual laws of
Jesus. Moses had made careful provision for the protection of life
and limb.f But, as the state can only regard an overt act,
he inquired into the motive only for the purpose of deter
mining the criminality of that act when committed. Christ,
laying down the law of the individual character, forbids that
anger of the heart which is ever the inspiration of a violent
and bloody hand.!
Moses had prohibited that adultery which, since it is high
treason against God's first and most sacred institution, the
family, can not with justice be disregarded by the state.§
Christ, recognizing the truth that chastity in heart is the
household god whose presence alone can give the home true
benediction, forbids, what the state can not prohibit, lustful
thoughts, and declares that it is better for a man to walk
* Matt, xix., 20. t See ante, chap, ii., p. 33, 34, and notes.
t Matt, v., 21-25. § Exod. xx., 14.

A.D. 32.] CHRIST'S LA WS. 239
through life blind, than to have eyes that inflame his heart
with .evil desires.*
Moses, guarding the nation against the combined vices of
profanity and falsehood common to all Oriental nations, gave
to the oath that judicial sacredness which still, in all Chris
tendom, attaches to it.f Christ, perceiving that all such sol
emn asseverations in common conversation spring from a
latent consciousness that the mere statement is unentitled to
the highest confidence, demands such measure of truthfulness
that simple yea and nay shall need no strong indorsers.! In
this he undertakes to regulate only individual intercourse ;
he does not speak of those judicial proceedings wherein the
state demands some more solemn sanction ; and he took him
self, without hesitation, the solemn oath administered to him
by the Sanhedrim on his final trial. §
Moses, guarding the individual against personal revenge,
and the citizen against cruel and unusual punishments, pro
vided a rude but simple expedient in the lex talionis. The
measure of a man's punishment was the mischief he had done :
" life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot
for foot, wound for wound, strife for strife."! Of this law,
wisely adapted to a rude and barbarous age, the gallows
alone now remains, a relic of the past. Christ inveighs not
against this statute as a principle of administration of public
justice, but he condemns its adoption as a principle for the
regulation of private conduct. In commanding the smitten
to turn the other cheek, he says nothing against the employ
ment of force by the community for the protection of its
citizens, but he condemns the employment of force by the
individual for the punishment of offenses personal to him
self Moses, who had commanded the Jew to love his neighbor,
had also carefully forbidden him to associate with the sur-
* Matt, v., 27-32.
t Exod. xxii., 11 ; Levit. xix., 12 ; Num. xxx., 2 ; Deut. vi., 13.
X Matt, v., 33-38. § Matt. xxvi.,j63, 64. || Exod. xxi., 23-25.
11

240 THE INAUGURAL ADDRESS. [Chap. XVII.
rounding Gentile nations,* an association fraught with dan
ger to the Hebraic nation in its infancy. From these prohi
bitions the Pharisees had deduced the precept " Thou shalt
hate thine enemy," an injunction which they obeyed with the
greatest unction. Jesus, not impugning that national policy,
which, however strange it may appear in our altered circum
stances, was one of self-preservation at the time of its adop
tion, lays down that law of love in personal intercourse of
which his whole life is the best exemplification, and the con
summation of which is found in the closing sentences of this
part of his discourse. Be ye therefore perfect, even as your
Father in heaven is perfect, f Patience, purity, truth, and
love, inspiring the heart and wrought out in the life, these
are the principles which Christ inculcates. The soul that is
thoroughly transfused with them will unconsciously fulfill
the law of the state, which rests as a yoke uneasy to be borne
only upon those whose natural inclinations to revenge, li
cense, falsehood, and selfishness in conduct it but imperfectly
represses.! Christ next proceeds to contrast the principles of the king
dom of God with those which characterize the reformed relig
ion of the land — Pharisaism. In this he enters into an anal
ysis of motives, and, seeming to violate his own precept,
" Judge not, that ye be not judged," really interprets the ex
ception which he appends, " Cast not your pearls before
swine." The three good works of Pharisaism, like those of the Ro
man Catholic Church, are alms-giving, prayer, and fasting.
Nothing that Christ says can be deemed to detract from their
vital importance. They are the language of three of the car
dinal Christian virtues — love, piety, and humility. But lan-
* Deut. xxiii., 6.
t Matt, v., 43-48. Perfect, Greek re\ewi, " complete in your love of oth
ers ; not one-sided or exclusive, as these just mentioned, but all-embracing
and Godlike."— Alford on Matt, v.j 48. J 1 Tim. i., 8-11.

A.D. 32.] ALMS-GIVING— PRAYER— FASTING. 241
guage is only the vehicle of thought, and these services have
too often degenerated into mere soulless babbling. Christ
inveighs against that spirit of essential irreligion which sub
stitutes quantity for quality, which confounds the act with
the motive. That the world still needs to study his admoni
tions will be evident to any who consider how the words
which are significant of states of the soul have degenerated
into mere descriptions of conduct. By charity we mean no
longer love, but giving to the poor, and " cold as charity" has
passed into a proverb. Benevolence no longer signifies well
wishing, but large giving. Character and reputation are con
tinually used as synonyms. Against this superficial holiness,
which confounds seeming and being, Christ earnestly warns
his followers.*
Alms-giving was rightly held in high honor among the
Jewish people. At their feasts they never forgot their poor.f
By poet and prophet this virtue was accounted among the
chiefest evidences of a genuine piety,! and, descending to the
successor of Judaism, it became one of the most characteris
tic features of the early Christian Church. § But in that age,
as in this, the value of the act was measured by the amount
of the contribution, and not by the motive which prompted
to it. Of all the many widows who have cast in their mite,
the one whom Christ pointed out in the Temple has alone be
come immortal. How much of our modern so-called benevo
lence rests really in the praise of men is sufficiently attested
by the fact that every philanthropic society finds it indis
pensable to its success to publish to the world the names of
its supporters and the value of their contributions. Christ
does not forbid the employment of such means. He does not
even condemn such benevolence. He declares that it shall
have the reward that it seeks, the praise of men. But a good
bargain is not an eminent Christian virtue ; and he who looks
alone for the reward of his own heart, and the approval of his
* Matt, vi., 1-18. t Esth. ix., 22 ; Neh. viii., 10.
X Psalm xli., 1. § Acts ix., 36 ; x., 2 ; Gal. ii., 10.

242 THE INAUGURAL ADDRESS. [Chap. XVII.
heavenly Father, will give as Boaz gave to Ruth,* as God
perpetually gives to us — under cover.
Prayer was not less ostentatious than alms-giving. The
Jew, like the Mussulman, had his appointed hours of prayer,
and at the given moment went through his mechanical devo
tions with as much punctuality as a clock, and with about
equal emotion. There were not wanting those who were
careful to be in the market-place at the hour, that the full
ness of their devotion might be seen. The synagogue, too,
stood always open for purposes of prayer, as does with us
the modern cathedral ; and the pious Jew measured his piety
by the number of his petitions, as the pious Romanist too oft
en estimates his devotion by the number of his Ave Marias
and Pater Nosters.f He who spent entire nights in com
munion with his Father, and who openly invoked his blessing
at the tomb of Lazarus, and acknowledged with gratitude his
providence and love before the multitude, neither condemned
much prayer nor public prayer, but much speaking and pray
er for the sake of publicity. The voice of praise and prayer
may well ascend to the throne of the heavenly Father from
the great congregation, but the man whose public prayers
outrun in fervor his secret devotions may well doubt the gen
uineness of his piety.!
* Ruth ii., 15-17.
t "Every one that multiplies prayer is heard." — Lightfoot, quoted in Al
ford in loco.
X The Lord's Prayer is supposed by many scholars to have been given at
another time, and to have been inserted here by Matthew, chap, vi., 9-15, be
cause cognate to the subject. Luke says that it was given by Christ in re
sponse to a request of the disciples (Luke xi. , 1), who would hardly have asked
him to teach them with the implication that in this respect his teaching lacked
something which John the Baptist afforded his followers, if he had already
given them this form of prayer in his inaugural discourse. It seems more fit
ting, too, for private instruction than for a public discourse. So Neander,
Ebrard, Pressense", and Olshausen. Lange supposes that the disciples asked
for and received this prayer before the sermon, and immediately after the
night of prayer. Tholuck, Stier, and Alford suppose the prayer to have been
twice given— once to the public, as in Matthew, and once to the disciples, as
in Luke. I shall refer to it again. See Chap. XXVI.

A.D. 32.] WORLDLINESS AND WORRY. 243
Even the superficial reader of the Old Testament will hard
ly need to be reminded how prominent a characteristic of its
pious men was their fasting.* Their humiliation was always
a public one. They clothed themselves in sackcloth; they
sat in ashes. The extent to which their badges of mourning
were worn is indicated by the fact that the King of Nineveh
commanded that even the beasts should share the garments
of sackcloth with their masters, f Christian preachers still
quote this heathen fast as an example to the Church of Christ.
The argument for such an exhibition is specious. The more
public the humiliation, the more complete it would seem to
be. Openly to confess one's sins is deemed to be the high
est and most difficult exercise of humility.
In truth, because it is so regarded, Christ dissuades from it.
Humility is a recognized virtue. Public confession is often
only a public boast ; and the pride of humility is the most
dangerous of all forms of pride. The Christian confesses to
God by his prayers, to the neighbor whom he has. injured by
his open retraction, but to the community only by his reform
ed life. If, in days of sorrow, fasting becomes the natu
ral language of his overburdened heart, as it often does to
the mourner in the hour of poignant grief, Christ dissuades
him not from fasting, but he cautions him against giving
public expression to his humility; he even recommends to
his disciples to contrast with the dissimulation of the Phari
sees a "certain dissimulation of face,"! that to men they
seem not to fast.
Vanity is the first vice of Pharisaism ; greed is the sec
ond. They desire to serve God. They are determined to
serve the world. § The same religion which fasts often, prays
* Exod. xxxiv., 28 ; 1 Kings xix., 8 ; Judges xx., 26 ; Ezra viii., 21 ;
Esth. iv., 3, 16. t Jonah iii., 5-8.
X Stier, quoted in Lange, Life of Christ, vol. ii., p. 425.
§ Matt, vi., 19-34. This passage is believed by Neander not to belong to
the Sermon on the Mount, because it is not found in Luke, and does not seem
to him to belong in logical order to this discourse. But Luke's account is
evidently fragmentary, and any delineation of Pharisaic righteousness which

244 THE INAUGURAL ADDRESS. [Chap. XVII.
much, and gives great tithes, heaps up in monastic establish
ments untold stores of wealth. And still the Church en
deavors to compensate for a doubtful morality through the
week by the liberality of its contributions on the Sabbath.
Many are those who have diligently engaged in the endeav
or to solve the problem how to serve both God and mam
mon ever since the days when Naaman asked in the same
breath from the prophet of God earth to build an altar to
Jehovah, and license to go through the forms of a courtier's
worship to Rimmon.* But the problem is not yet solved,
nor like to be ; for no man can be the slave of two masters.
In this attempt at a divided service is the secret of all
wear and worry. He that enters Christ's army may safely
trust the commissariat with him. "Seek ye first the king
dom of God and his righteousness, and all these things shall
be added unto you," is his sufficient security. This promise
has indeed puzzled many a worshiper of mammon. But he
who enlists for the bounty, and presents this draft on God,
demanding clamorously his earthly pay, attests by this very
act that he has not complied with its conditions, and turns
often disappointed away. That man who truly seeks first
the righteousness of God in his own heart and in the com
munity, will learn, with Paul, having food and raiment, there
with to be content ; and if he will read with care this Ser
mon on the Mount, he will see that he is promised nothing
more. Censorious judgment is the product of egotism and the
accompaniment of selfishness. The critic is the poorest
of all judges, since he lacks that sympathy which alone un
locks the secret of another's life. " It is only as we feel with
man that we can know him." All other judgments react
upon the censor. For with what judgment he judges, he is
judged in turn — a law which has its clearest illustration in
the history of the Jews themselves, who, having always con-
did not depict their essentially worldly character would lack a most essential
feature of the portrait. * 2 Kings v., 17-18.

A.D. 32.] CLOSE OF THE SERMON. 245
sidered the Gentiles as the children of the devil, have lived
for ages under the ban of contempt in the midst of the Gen
tiles, alike despising and despised. Yet some estimate of
character the Christian minister must have, that he may
adapt the food he dispenses to the character of his auditors
— that he may not cast his pearls before swine.*
It remains in a few brief aphorisms to direct the way by
which a man may enter the kingdom of God. What is the
process of naturalization ? If any ceremony constituted the
Christian substitute for the rite of circumcision ; if any pub
lic service was required to signalize the disciples' entrance
into the kingdom of heaven, here would have been the place
to record it. But on this point Christ is silent. He depicts
two conditions — two only, faith and obedience. Eternal life
is the gift of God.f Already he has assured the Samaritan
woman of this-! Whoso truly desireth this gift, let him ask
and it shall be given to him. But it is not every asking that
receives. Nay ! strait is the gate, and narrow the way, and
few there be that find it. The promise is to all " who, by
patient continuance in well doing, seek for glory, and honor,
and immortality."§ False prophets will arise to pamper the
pride and appeal to the prejudice by pointing out some oth
er way than practical righteousness. They are to be known
by their fruits. Truth is instrumental, and the best test of
truth, the easiest of appreciation, and the most reliable, is
the character it produces. For the man is more than the
brand he bears. A doubtful doctrine is far less pernicious
than a doubtful life. " The worst of heresies," says Cecil,
" is lack of love." There are many who doubt this now who
will not doubt it at the last ; for the man whose foundation
consists only in his acceptance of Christ's truth has built on
sand. He whose religion consists in practical obedience to
Christ's precepts has built on rock. And by-and-by, like
* Matt, vii., 1-6. t Romans vi., 23.
X John iv., 10. § Romans u., 7.

246

THE INAUGURAL ADDRESS. [Chap, XVII.

the terrible tornadoes that sweep with such destructive fury
through the East, the judgments of God will come, and many
a life will be found in ruins, and many a more homely hut
will abide.
This solemn warning, the significant impressiveness of
whose imagery we do not easily apprehend, closes the dis
course, and the people, released from the spell which bound
them, attest to each other the power of his teaching who
speaks " as one having authority, and not as the scribes.''

A.D. 32.] THE CENTURION'S SERVANT. 247

CHAPTER XVIH.
POPULAR FAVOR.
^fT'ROM the Mount of Beatitudes Jesus returned with
his disciples to the Sea of Galilee. It was not
enough that he teach his disciples ; he must train
them as well. They were to proclaim no new
philosophy. They were to announce with au
thority the kingdom of God as at hand. For this purpose it
was necessary that they should first themselves get a glimpse
of it. They were to preach Christ Jesus the divine Messiah
of mankind. For this purpose they must read in his mira
cles and his teachings his divine commission. That they
might be ministers of his Word, it was needful that they
should be eye-witnesses of his works.* Descending from the
mount, they continued, therefore, with him in his renewed
ministry through the towns and villages of Galilee. The few
broken threads of history, which are all they have left us,
can not be woven into a perfect pattern. We only know that
every where it was a ministry of mercy; that every where
the people witnessed with wonder his works, and welcomed
with ardor his teachings.
Without, however, attempting to give a connected narra
tive of this period of his ministry, we may profitably group
together a few of its more significant incidents.
Such an incident was the cure of the centurion's servant.
The organization of the Roman army resembled in some
important respects our own. A century, consisting of from
fifty to one hundred soldiers, answering to our company, was
* Luke i., 2.
11*

248 POPULAR FAVOR. [Chap. XVIII.
the unit in the organization. The centurion was the captain
of this company. Stationed in every town, they were charged
with the duty of preserving order, and maintaining the au
thority of the hated Roman. A task sufficiently odious in
itself, it was rendered doubly so by the method in which it
was performed. The Roman soldier was cold, hard, unsym
pathetic. He repaid with interest the intolerant scorn of the
Jew ; and the dreadful scenes of carnage which character
ized the final destruction of Jerusalem a few years later were
only the consummation of a remorseless scorn, which had al
ready, in petty persecution, made the Roman yoke intolera
ble. The Roman was not exactly cruel, but he felt as little
remorse in killing a Jew as a housewife feels in killing a
spider. Capernaum was blessed, however, in being the residence of
a rare Roman. Unlike his companions in arms, he possessed a
warm nature, which the sesthetic religion of Greece and the
stately service of Rome failed to satisfy. He had viewed
with loving eyes, if he had not actually embraced, the relig
ion of Jehovah. He had built in the town a synagogue. He
had lightened, so far as might be, the yoke of military gov
ernment. He had so administered it as to win the regards
of the Jewish Rabbi, a rare miracle of love. Of tender na
ture, his slave was no mere chattel, but almost as a son.*
Cicero half apologized for manifesting any affection for a
slave. This Roman centurion, touched by the anguish of his
dying servant, made no effort to conceal his sympathies.
He secured the interest of the elders of the synagogue.
They brought his case to Jesus. " Gentile though he be,"
said they, " he is worthy, for he loveth our nation, and has
built us a synagogue." This was the highest encomium a
Pharisee could pass upon a Gentile. Judaism was the only
worth. Love for Judaism was the Gentile's only hope of
pardon for his heathen birth.
Christ immediately complied with their request. But on
* Called in Matthew viii. , 6, b naic fiov.

A.D. 32.] ADMISSION OF THE GENTILES. 249
his way thither a second deputation met him. The centurion,
who perhaps had heard of the cure of the nobleman's son,*
sent to suggest to Jesus that a word from him would be suf
ficient. "I am not worthy that thou shouldest come under
my roof," said he. " Neither is it necessary ; for at thy com
mand diseases come and go as slaves and soldiers come and
go at mine.f
Christ seized the occasion as a text to enunciate more
clearly the principle that his kingdom was not a national res
toration — a principle, the bare hint of which in Nazareth had
produced a mob. In contrast with that worth which the eld
ers alone recognized, he set the higher worth of faith. " Not
even in all Israel," said he, " have I found faith so great. Such
men as these are they that will become the citizens of my
kingdom. And they will come from the east, and the west,
and the north, and the south — from every nationality, that
is — while the unreceptive Jews, incapable of relaxing their
hold upon the traditions of their fathers to receive that new
life which the Son alone affords, will be cast out."J
Popular audiences seldom grasp great principles. The peo
ple were very willing that this Gentile centurion, who was
personally popular, should be admitted to the privileges of
their new theocracy ; and how little tbey comprehended the
general assertion that Christ broke down the partition wall
between Jew and Gentile is evident from the fact that not
till several years later, and then under the influence of a su
pernatural vision, was Peter enabled to perceive that " God
is no respecter of persons, but in every nation he that feareth
him and worketh righteousness is accepted with him."§ In
fact, the Christian world has not yet understood this. And
it still tries our narrow faith to believe that God can accept
any man who has not been taught in our catechism and
trained in our conventional religious customs. Whether there
are even any crumbs of mercy that fall from the children's
"• John iv., 46-54. See ante, chap, xi., p. 138, note.
t Matt, viii., 8, 9. X Matt, viii., 11, 12. § Acts x., 34, 35.

250 POPULAR FA VOR. [Chap. XVIII.
table to the ignorant heathen dogs is a hotly-contested point
in modern theology.
Christ seems to have complied with the suggestion of the
centurion, and the messengers, returning, found the servant
whole that had been sick.*
If to any Jesus seemed merely a great physician, which
doubtless was the first impression produced by his cures, two
events that occurred at this time must have corrected that
misapprehension. For death was subject to him. The dead
to him seemed merely sleeping. Twice, at least, the reluctant
gates of Hades opened at his command, and released from im
prisonment their captives.
The ruler, that is, as we have previously explained, the
minister of one of the synagogues at Capernaum, perhaps the
very one which the centurion had erected, had an only daugh
ter who lay very sick and near to death. He had doubtless
heard the great teacher expounding the Scripture on the Sab
bath. Perhaps he had witnessed the cure of the demoniacf or
the healing of the withered hand.! Perhaps he was one of
the very elders who had come to intercede with Christ for
the centurion. He left his daughter on her dying bed to be
seech succor of Jesus. This was his last hope. To his fears
she seemed to be even now dead when he had reached Christ's
side.§ Jesus went immediately with him. And on reaching
Jairus's house, for such was the ruler's name, he found the
father's fears to have been true prophets. The maiden was
dead. In the Orient yet more than with us, mourning customs
are conventional. Fashion dictates them. The friends of the
dead beat their breasts, make the house resound with their
lamentations, cover their heads, cut their flesh, put on the
* Compare,' for full account of this healing, Matt, viii., 5-13, with Luke
vii., 1-10. For reconciliation of seeming differences in the two accounts, see
Trench on the Miracles. t Mark i., 23-26. See ante, chap, xiii., p. 169.
X Mark iii., 1-6. See ante, chap, xv., p. 210. § Matt. ix. 18.

A.D.32.] THE WIDOW OF NAIN. 251
habiliments of grief, and rend their garments. There are
with them, as with us, various shades of grief nicely expressed
in external symbol. The length of the rent in the clothes is
accurately determined by the relation of the deceased. Pro
fessional women, skillful in the simulation of grief, are hired
to swell the songs of lamentation on these occasions.* Ac
quainting themselves with the private sorrows of their audi
tors, and interweaving in their chants the story of their woes,
they evoke their tears as well, and thus add amateur to pro
fessional weeping. Such was the scene which Christ found
enacted in the house of the prelate when he arrived.
Christ's whole ministry is a perpetual protest against hy
pocrisy and conventionalism ; and certainly, of all hypocrisy,
that of grief is the worst. He ordered all these skillful pre
tenders from the room ; then, taking the maiden by the hand,
her father, and mother, and three of his chosen disciples alone
being present, he bade her arise, presented her alive and well
to her astonished parents, and, calming their too intense re
vulsion of feeling — a revulsion sometimes accompanied with
danger to the sensitive — commanded that they should give
to her, famished by disease, the nourishment she needed.f
Christ's declaration concerning Jairus's daughter, " She is
not dead, but sleepeth," may have been taken then, as it has
since been, literally ;\ and» despite the testimony of the sur
rounding friends, ancient as well as modern critics may have
asserted that it was only a case of syncope ; but in the rais
ing of the widow's son at Nain there was certainly no oppor
tunity for doubt.
The little village of Nain§ lies on the northwestern edge of
the Little Hermon, looking down into the plain of Esdraelon,
* Jer. ix., 17, 18.
t Matt, ix., 18, 19, 23-26; Mark v., 22, 23, 35-43; Luke viii., 41, 42,
49-56. X Even Olshausen so interprets it. But it has been well observed that the
language is the same as that which Jesus uses respecting Lazarus, which he
himself interprets. John xi., 11-14. § Then a city. Luke vii. ,11.

252

POPULAR FAVOR.

[Chap. XVIII.

two or three hours' distance from Nazareth, on the road to Je
rusalem. As Christ, accompanied by his disciples, and followed

by the multitude, who constituted a sort of volunteer body
guard wherever he went, entered the gates of the town, they
met a funeral procession, accompanying a widow to the burial
of her only son in the cemetery of the town, which, by Jewish
law, was always placed outside the walls. A strange scene
was that when these two processions met. On the one side,
entering the city of life, a joyful band, following with glad
acclaim the King of Life, hanging on his words, hailing with
wonder his works of love. On the other, a wailing company,
beating their breasts, wringing their hands, filling the air with
their lamentations, going out to the city of the dead, accom
panying to his last imprisonment the captive of the invinci
ble conqueror.
By Jewish custom, he who met a funeral procession was

A.D. 32.] STILLING THE TEMPEST. 253
expected to join it, to mingle his tears with those of the un
known mourners, and to swell the host who followed the
dead to his burial-place. Thus already this widow was fol
lowed by no small concourse, and her own grief was felt by
the heart of the whole city. The lamentations of the multi
tude were of little meaning ; but when Jesus saw the unbid
den tears of the widow herself he was touched with compas
sion.* He bade her weep no more. He came to the open
bier, stopped those that bore it with that air of authority
which none ever thought to dispute, took the hand of the
uncoffined corpse, and said, while with wondering, expectant
awe the by-standers awaited his words, " Young man, I say
unto thee, Arise." The chains of death fell from him ; eman
cipated, he arose and began to speak, and Jesus delivered
him to his no longer weeping mother, while, awe-stricken, the
people in whispers questioned of each other who this might
be to whom death itself was obedient. They no longer hailed
Jesus as a Rabbi, or accounted him the Great Physician.
From all lips was extorted the concurrent testimony, " A
great prophet is risen up among us ;" and " God hath visited
his people, "f
Not less over nature than over death and life did Jesus
show himself a divine Imperator.
The Sea of Galilee, sunk several hundred feet below the
level of the Mediterranean, and hemmed in on every side by
lofty mountains, their faces furrowed with gorges cut by the
water-courses, is peculiarly subject, as most lakes among the
mountains are, to severe and sudden storms. In such a val
ley the untamed wind plays strange pranks, possesses no
steadiness of purpose, veers from point to point with perpet
ual and perplexingly unexpected changes, and comes and
goes in fitful gusts. Out of the cloudless sky the northern
winds come trooping down from Mount Hermon's snowy
peak, and in an instant this so deceitful lake will lose its na-
* " When the Lord saw her."— Luke vii., 13. t Luke vii., 11-16.

254 POPULAR FA VOR. [Chap. XVIII.
tive placidity, and foam and rage in its mountain bed like a
maniac in his dungeon. Jesus had already procured a boat,
in which, with his disciples, he could avoid the throng that
followed him every where else,* and he was fond of going out
with these fishermen to escape, on the comparatively unin
habited eastern shore, the crowds which characterized the
western, or to rest on the calm of the lake itself; for nothing
affords a more perfect repose of soul than to sail out upon
such waters by starlight, and to lie on the gently-rocking
waves, seeing the glancing lights and hearing the hushed
murmur of the neighboring city, and yet feel yourself wholly
separated from it, and free from all its claims and calls. Thus
alternately the mountains and the sea gave Jesus the solitude
he craved.
On one such occasion, at the close of a day's preaching, he
had entered into their little boat, and, lying down in the
stern, had fallen fast asleep. Wearied with his labors, he
slept soundly. One of these sudden tempests broke upon
them. The lake was lashed to fury; the waves ran high,
and began to beat in upon them. These bold fishermen, to
whom an ordinary storm was only a pleasurable excitement,
perceived that this one they could not weather. The danger
was imminent. Arousing Jesus with a half rebuke for his
sleeping — impatient, as we are apt to be when perturbed or
anxious, at the placidity of another — they demanded of him
somewhat curtly if he cared not that they all perished. Je
sus quietly asked them what had become of their faith in
him ; then, turning, spoke to the winds and waves with voice
of authority, " Peace ; be still !" and the storm ceased as sud
denly as it had commenced. This new display of authority
over nature filled with new wonder these disciples, who had
known him as yet only as a prophet, not as a divine Messiah ;
for it was only little by little, through just such incidents as
this, they were to learn the nature and authority of the king
whose coronation they were to proclaim, f
* Mark iii., 9. t Matt, viii., 23-27 ; Mark iv., 37-41 ; Luke viii., 22-25.

A.D.32.] CURE OF THE DEMONIACS. 255
Harder to quell is the soul-storm that ravages the mind of
the poor maniac than that which furrows the surface of the
lake. And these manifestations of Christ's power over nature
were followed by an equally wondrous manifestation of his
power over mind.
Six or seven miles southeast of the southeast shore of the
Sea of Galilee still are to be found in the modern Urn Keis
the ruins of the ancient and once proud and flourishing city
of Gadara, which gave its naaie to all the surrounding coun
try, as still the modern city sometimes gives its title to the
county in which it is placed. This country of the Gadarenes
is a wild and rocky region. The limestone hills abound in
caves where still are found the evidences of their ancient use
as sepulchres ; and on the shore of the lake, here precipitous,
troops of wild hogs still feed on the esculent roots with which
the soil abounds.
As Jesus and his disciples landed on this eastern shore,
near the town of Gergesa, whose ruins constitute the site of
the modern Chersa,* a fearful apparition threatened them with
new danger ; for out of one of these natural sepulchres there
* A striking confirmation of the accuracy of the evangelical narratives is
afforded by what has been heretofore regarded as a contradiction between
them. Matthew, the reader will notice, describes the event as occurring in
the land of the Gergesenes, or as some manuscripts have it, Gerasenes (Matt.
viii. , 28), while Mark arid Luke describe it as occurring in the land of the
Gadarenes (Mark v., 1 ; Luke viii., 26). This seeming contradiction has
thrown, in the minds of some rationalizing critics, doubt over the whole nar
rative. The city of Gerasa, far to the south, midway between the Lake of
Tiberias and the Dead Sea, does not in any respect answer to the condition
of the narrative. The city of Gadara, three hours to the south of the south
ern shore of the lake, is so far distant therefrom that if the miracle had been
wrought in the vicinity, the swine "must have run down the mountain an
hour and a half, forded the deep Jermuk, quite as formidable as the Jordan
itself, ascended its northern bank, and raced across a level plain several miles
before they could reach the nearest margin of the lake, a feat which no herd
of swine would be likely to achieve, even though they were possessed." —
Thomson's Land and the Book, vol. ii., p. 35. But Dr. Thomson has discov
ered (see supra) the ruins of the ancient town of Chersa, or Gersa, directly
on the shore of the lake, the surroundings of which exactly answer to the de
scriptions of the evangelists. This town, so insignificant that it has escaped

256 POPULAR FAVOR. [Chap. XVIII.
came rushing down to meet them two maniacs, one of whom
especially had an aspect so dreadful as to cause his compan
ion to be almost unnoticed. Naked, a few fluttering rags the
only remnants of clothing left upon him, covered with blood
from self-inflicted wounds, the broken fragments of chains
dangling to his limbs, he rushed forward to revenge this in
vasion of his domains, which no traveler knowing of his pres
ence dared to enter. For the moment it seemed as though
the waves had only surrendered their prey to a death more
awful at the hands of this raving maniac. But with a look
Jesus halted him ; with a word he turned his threatening vi
olence into a beseeching cry. Whom the sane knew not, this
poor possessed recognized as the Son of the Most High God.
And the devils that had purposed death, thwarted in their
purpose, besought that they might not be themselves de
stroyed before their time.
Then occurred an event which is confessedly mysterious,
if not inexplicable. In vain do we attempt to interpret it by
recalling cases in which beasts catch the impress of human
feelings ; in which horses, for example, share the panic of their
riders ; or dogs are possessed with the rage of their masters.*
Equally in vain the proffered explanation that the last strug
gles of this poor demoniac and his unearthly screams struck
terror to the neighboring swineherd ; that, " as the devil had
before spoken by his mouth, it now acted by his hands. "f
They ask permission to go into a herd feeding on the adjoin
ing cliff; receive it ; and the two thousand swine, seized with
the attention of previous travelers, was unknown to the Roman world. Mark
and Luke, therefore, who wrote for the Gentiles, described the miracle as oc
curring in the country of the Gadarenes, a description which would have been
readily comprehended, since Gadara was one of the chief Roman cities of Pal
estine, and widely known. Matthew, who was a tax-gatherer on this very
shore, and familiar with every village and hamlet, and who wrote for Jewish
readers, described it as occurring in the country of the Gerasenes, or Gerge-
senes, thus fixing to their minds its locality more definitely. See Thomson's
Land and the Book, vol. ii., p. 34-37.
* So Lange, Life of Christ, vol. iii., p. 15.
t So Pressense, Life of Christ, p. 376.

A,D. 32.] EXCITEMENT IN GALILEE. 257
a sudden panic, themselves inexplicably possessed, rush vio
lently down the cliff and are destroyed. To the people of
the neighboring town it is nothing that a townsman is saved.
Their swine are killed ; and they do not understand how
much better is a man than a beast. They beseech this proph
et to depart out of their coasts. He complies. His boat
bears him and his companions back to Capernaum. And Ga
dara never sees again the Lord, whom for a herd of swine it
has thus rejected.*
Such are some of the incidents which characterize this pe
riod of Christ's itinerant ministry — a period of constantly in
creasing popularity. He has not yet begun to foreshadow
his crucifixion. He has not yet preached — at least not
plainly — the doctrine of the cross. This rock of offense and
stone of stumbling has not yet blocked the narrow way.
All the people rejoice in his mighty works, and unite in pro
claiming that God has visited his people. The story of his
miracles runs from mouth to mouth. Every town vies with
its neighbor to receive a visit from this inheritor of the
power of the ancient prophets, this seeming restorer of the
ancient theocracy. At first he is only a rabbi,f then a great
prophet ;! at length the wondering people begin to ask if he
be not the long-expected Messiah. § If a few wise and con
servative men shake their heads doubtfully at his strange
doctrines and erratic ways — as we shall presently see they
do — they have not as yet the power materially to abate his
growing favor with the common people, who have not yet
discerned with the Pharisees the revolution that lurks in his
teaching, and, still less, with the few attached disciples, per
ceived with deeper insight the liberty which that revolution
will insure. A prophet has come — not to theocratic Judea,
but to despised Galilee, and all Galilee is in a holiday be
cause of him.
* Matt, viii., 28-34 ; Mark v., 1-21 ; Luke viii., 26-40.
t John iii., 2 ; i.,38; vi., 25. % Luke vii., 16. § Matt, xii., 23.

258 POPULAR FA VOR. [Chap. XVIII.
Jew* and Gentilef alike taste of his beneficence, and rec
ognize in him the life of the world. The poor blind menj
and the honored prelate§ alike rejoice in his visitation, and
feel the power of his word in lost sight restored, in ebbing
life called back again. At his voice diseases flee away. The
blind are made to see ; the lame walk ; the lepers are
cleansed ; the dead are brought to life ; and, strangest of all,
the poor have the Gospel preached to them.|| The great
underlying population, ignored, despised, are ignored and
despised no longer. It is an age of popular ferment. The
long-slumbering people are awaking in this dawning hour
of civilization. In ancient Rome the popular uprising' has
broken the power of the proud nobles, and Caesar has built
his empire on the once despised plebeian classes. In Greece
the philosophy of the few is losing its power ; the civiliza
tion of the past is already effete, because it is not the civili
zation of the masses. Christ, in Palestine, addresses himself
to the popular heart; and the amazed Pharisees wonder to
find in the ready response of the gathering multitudes that
there is a popular heart which they can no longer despise.
The people themselves, amazed to find a Rabbi who under
stands their wants, enters into their life, selects his disciples
from their number, and is not reluctant to eat even at their
tables, are not less attracted by him than by his miracles —
the catholicity of his love, itself the greatest miracle. Wher
ever he goes crowds gather about him. Curious to gaze upon
this new prophet, they throng the streets through which he
passes. % Women accompany him, and minister to his simple
wants out of their substance. Among them are some of con
siderable social distinction.** His journeys are triumphal
processions. No house can give him privacy.ff Invited to
dine, the host finds himself the reluctant entertainer of an in-
* Matt. ix. ,18. f Matt. viii. , 5. % Matt. ix. , 27-31.
§ Matt, ix., 18. || Matt, xi., 5 ; Luke vii., 22.
1 Mark ii., 15; v., 24; Luke vii., 11; viii., 45.
** Luke viii. , 1-3. ft Mark ii. , 1 , 2.

A.D. 32.] INCREASING ENTHUSIASM. 259
numerable rabble, that block up the street, and overflow into
his court-yard and his dining-hall.* The press is so great
that the people are sometimes trodden under foot.f Christ's
meals and sleep are broken in upon.! His own mother tries
in vain to get to him through the impenetrable crowd. § He
procures, as we have said, a boat, and in this, with his disci
ples, he sometimes escapes from the throng, and seeks retire
ment on the eastern shore of the Sea of Galilee ;|| but the
people follow him on foot.*-f He hides among the mountains ;
they search him out.** When he returns, the people are wait
ing to receive him.ff He cautions those whom he cures not
to bruit their cures about ;!! but in vain. In the expressive
language of the evangelist, " He could not be hid."§§ Wher
ever he goes he is a messenger of mercy. His preaching is
now literally a gospel — glad tidings of great joy. He awak
ens hope alike in the breast of the despairing sick and the
despairing sinner. The scene at Peter's house, which made
memorable the Sabbath that inaugurated his ministry at Ca
pernaum, is repeated in every town.||| Virtue seems to reside
in his very garments. The fringe that bordered the Rabbi's
cloak, placed there by divine command, was a perpetual re
minder to the wearer that he was one of God's peculiar peo
ple. TIT The sick crowded to lay hold even upon this,*** and
not always in vain, as one poor woman proved, who had spent
her time and5 substance in unavailing attempts to obtain re
lief from a long-continued complaint.fff
So the day-star rises to its zenith, while there gather in the
horizon the clouds in which its earthly light is yet to be ex
tinguished. * Matt, ix., 10. t Luke xii., 1. X Mark iii., 20.
§ Matt, xii., 46-50. || Mark iii., 9.
f Matt, xiv., 13 ; Mark vi., 33. ** Mark i., 37.
ft Luke viii., 40.
J| Mark i., 34, 44; Luke iv., 41; Markiii.,12; Matt. xii. , 1 6 ; Luke viii.,
56. §§ Mark vii., 24.
|||| Matt, iv., 23-25 ; Mark iii., 7, 10 ; Luke viii., 1.
tt Numb, xv., 37-40 ; Deut. xxii., 1 2. *** Matt, xiv., 36.
t+t Matt, ix., 20-22 ; Mark v., 25-34 ; Luke viii., 43-48.

260 PRIESTLY ENMITY. [Chap. XIX.

CHAPTER XIX.
PRIESTLY ENMITY.
ITE different was the reception which the
priestly party accorded to Jesus, for we have
portrayed but one side of the picture. There
is another. Christ's adherents were all from
the common people. His disciples were of the
peasant population. His Church was composed of the stuff
which the Jewish Rabbis would not have in theirs. Not a
single man of mark in all the Holy Land was an open and
avowed follower of Jesus,* though some cherished a real re
gard for him. The wise men had worshiped at his cradle
once for all. No wise men followed him now.
Judea had already declared against him. He had broken
their Sabbath traditions. He had proclaimed himself the
Son of the Most High, so making himself equal with God.
The Sanhedrim at Jerusalem had pronounced him guilty of
these charges. Spies had tracked him back to Capernaum.f
The same high court that had sent out its delegation to
cross-question John the Baptist, sent out a second to watch
this new heretic, that threatened the truth and Church of
God. They dogged his footsteps every where. They watch
ed him in the corn-fields. They accused him of Sabbath-
breaking in the synagogue, and they stirred up the suspi
cions of the fanatical throughout all Palestine. Still there
was as yet in Galilee no open breach between him and the
Pharisaic party. Pharisees still invited him to their houses.!
On one or two occasions they gave feasts, seemingly in hon
or of him ; but to the most honest among them he was a
paradox. They were suspicious of this " friend of publicans
* John vii., 48. t Mark iii., 22. % Luke vii., 36; xi., 37,

A.D. 32.] DEGENERACY OF THE AGE. 261
and sinners." They watched him with critical eyes. They
measured him by their party standards. They waited to see
whether, so tried, he was " orthodox." If he did not avouch
their creed, belong to their party, and help to build up their
Church, he could not be the Messiah, nor yet a true prophet ;
for were they not the custodians of the Word of God, and
the ordained co-builders of the theocracy ?
The counts in the indictment which was gradually form
ing against him already began to be serious and many. Let
us endeavor to gather and combine them.
The age seemed sadly out of joint. The signs of the *
times, to the eyes of the Pharisees, were all significant of
danger. And truly so ; for the day of their death and of
the destruction of their nation was hastening on. Events
were prophetic of those divine judgments so soon to over
whelm the land which, for its iniquities, the prophet had sev
en hundred years before designated as the land of Sodom
and Gomorrah.* The horizon was black with the clouds of
the coming wrath-storm. The nation lay prostrate at the
feet of a heathen empire. The sceptre had departed from
Shiloh, and, despite their proud boast, the seed of Abraham
were in grievous bondage to a hated despot. The holy tem
ple had been polluted, and nothing but the blood of its impe
rial conquerors could, to their thought, wash out the stain.
The Temple of Jove and the Church of God stood side by
side in the no longer Holy Land. No prophet's voice had
been heard upon these sacred hills for many years. At last,
indeed, a descendant of the long-lost prophetic order had
preached for a few months in the wilderness the Gospel of
Repentance, warning of danger and dehorting from sin. But
the hand of violence had abruptly broken off his career, and
in the castle of Machasrus, a lonely prisoner, the Baptist await
ed his approaching death. Not strange, then, was it that
these Pharisees asked impatiently, " Is this a time for feast-
* Isaiah i.,9, 10.

262 PRIESTLY ENMITY. [Chap. XIX.
ing and merriment ? Is it not a time for fasting and sack
cloth ?"* The disciples of John shared their perplexity, and
even John himself seems in his exile to have participated in
the doubts with which the Pharisees inspired them.f
For, though Christ preached the duty of repentance, he
neither practiced fasting himself, nor inculcated it upon his
disciples. He distinctly and emphatically repudiated all out
ward marks of humiliation. He told people, if they must fast,
to show no sign of it.! ^s religion was one of feasting and
joyousness. His processions were all wedding processions.
The whole week was a long succession of gala-days. When
from the receipt of customs he called the odious tax-gatherer
to follow him, he asked him not to show his repentance by
fasting, penances, and prayers, but accepted his invitation to
a feast, where his old Gentile and half heathen companions
also rejoiced with him in his conversion.§ The feast which
he afterward described as provided by the father for his prod
igal son|| was simply a poetic embodiment of that festal joy
ousness which characterized his portraiture of the life which
he had come to inaugurate upon the earth. That the Phar
isees in their age could not comprehend this will seem less
singular to those who reflect that eighteen centuries of edu
cation has not sufficed to remove from even the Christian re
ligion those garments of austerity and gloom which she has
borrowed from the heathen world, and that to the present
day the festal scenes which Christ so habitually graced are
considered by a large proportion of Christendom as incon
sistent with the highest type of piety. We have not yet
learned that it is only in the far country that the prodigal
feeds on husks, and is robed in rags ; that his return to his
father's home is to be celebrated, not with sackcloth and fast
ing, but with the fatted calf, the best robe, and scenes of fes
tivity and rejoicing. These are not the customary symbols
of the sinner's return and his acceptance with God.
* Mark ii., 18. t Matt, xi., 2, 3 ; Luke vii., 18, 19.
X Matt. vi. , 1 6-18. § Luke v. , 29-39. || Luke xv. , 2 1-24.

A.D. 32.] CHRIST'S RELIGION JOYOUS. 263
It is true that when the disciples of the Baptist came for
an explanation of the reason why, in the midst of the general
gloom, he proclaimed alike by his life and his lips a religion
of glad tidings of great joy, he made some attempt to explain
it to them. He reminded them of one of the Baptist's own
sermons.* He told them that the bridegroom had come, and
that the children of the bride-chamber could not mourn while
he was with them. With sad prevision looking forward to
the future days of darkness and of persecution, he intimated
that even his Church would know in the future occasions for
that fasting which was now uncalled for.f
But it was impossible to explain to the Pharisees a phe
nomenon utterly, and, from the nature of the case, inexplica
ble to them. He lived in a different atmosphere — a different
life. To him the kingdom of God had already come. He
saw in the travail of the dying theocracy the birth of the
new.! While the eyes of the people were fixed upon the
tomb in which the glory of the past was buried, he saw ris
ing therefrom the glorious spirit of the regenerated future.
It was impossible for him to point out to them a sight which
he alone could see, or make them comprehend its unseen glo
ries. As, later, Mary wept at the empty tomb, while her risen
Lord, recognized only as the gardener, talked with her, so
now out of the vacant tomb of the dead past, at which the
disciples alike of the Pharisees and of the Baptist stood weep
ing, a risen Messiah also stood, but as yet unrecognized, un
known. Not only was Jesus thus accused of indifference to the de
generacy of the age, but of fostering it by preaching a lax
morality; of disregarding not only the traditional observ
ances, but also the written law ; of overturning not only the
ceremonies, but also the moral enactments of Moses, and so
* John iii., 29, 30.
t Matt, ix., 14, 15 ; Mark ii., 18-22 ; Luke v., 33-39.
j: John xvi., 21, 22.
12

264 PRIESTLY ENMITY. [Chap. XIX.
of commending himself to the people by the simple but pop
ular arts of the demagogue, who, alike in Church and State,
purchases a brief popularity by preaching to the people their
exemption from law, whether of God or man.
He had, indeed, indignantly denied this charge. He had
asserted that not even a jot or a tittle of the Mosaic law
should pass away unfulfilled. But he had to their minds ob
viated the force of this declaration by asserting in the same
breath that he came to fulfill it. And in great detail he had
gone over some of the principal enactments of the Mosaic law,
and had distinctly declared that perfect compliance would
not give admittance to his kingdom. For the statutes which
he had substituted he had given no authority. He had quot
ed neither the Hebrew Scriptures nor the Pharisaic traditions.
He had, with what seemed to them an unparalleled audacity,
put himself above the founder of their ancient state, in the
phrase oft repeated, " Ye have heard that it hath been said.
But I say unto you." Thus, though in form he had denied
their charges, in substance, to their apprehension, he had jus
tified them;* for, doubtless, their life-long training in the
conventionalism of the schools had rendered them incapable
of appreciating that spiritual obedience which springs from a
heart inspired by a devout love to God and fraternal love to
man. To them, as to many now, allegiance and liberty were
antagonistic words. Religion and legalism were synony
mous. That there is, or can be, a religion that forgets the
law it complies with — nay, that the highest obedience is un
conscious obedience — Pharisaism has never comprehended.
But if the preaching of Jesus aroused their suspicions, his
practice confirmed them. The Pharisees were Purists, Sep
aratists. Their very name indicates their nature. They wore
righteousness as a warrior his mail. They applied to this
life that motto which belongs only to the next, " Between us
and you there is a great gulf fixed." " He that doeth the
*Matt. v.,17, 48.

A.D. 32.] A FRIEND OF SINNERS. 265
deeds of the law shall live by them," was their only recog
nized principle of life. They knew no doctrine of repentance.
With all their washings, they knew no fountain that could
cleanse from sin. To be pure was to be separate from sinners.
When, therefore, Christ summoned from the receipt of cus
toms a half heathen tax-gatherer, they murmured among
themselves. When he accepted the new convert's invitation,
and sat down with him and his old friends to a great feast,
they brought it against his disciples as a serious, if not a con
clusive accusation.* When he called to him his twelve cho
sen apostles, they felt more strongly than ever that it was
impossible for them to recognize, still less to join, a Church
among whose appointed leaders there was not a single priest,
scribe, or Pharisee. When they looked on the rabble which
followed him, they said, contemptuously, " Have any of the
rulers, or of the Pharisees, believed on him ?"f When, in his
Sermon on the Mount, repudiating the essential principle of
Pharisaism, he declared that God loved alike the evil and the
good, and appealed to nature to attest the truth of his decla
ration,! it doubtless seemed to show no less a profanation of
Jehovah's name that they were unable to answer his appeal
to the facts of Providence. That he could be the friend of
publicans and sinners, and yet the friend of purity and holi
ness ; that love is medicinal ; that the pure may enter as a
physician the domain of vice to cure it without feeling its
contagion, this surpassed their comprehension. By his course
Jesus seemed to them to obliterate all moral as well as all so
cial distinctions ; to preach and practice a lax morality, as
well as to overthrow the most sacred rites and sanctions of
religion. For the Pharisees measured men by their approximation
to a somewhat conventional standard of piety. In this re
spect we still resemble them, though the standard has in some
respects changed. Belief* in a certain creed, the practice of
* Matt, ix., 10, 11 ; Mark ii., 15, 16 ; Luke v., 29, 30.
t John vii. , 48. X Matt. v. , 43-48.

266 PRIESTLY ENMITY. [Chap. XIX.
certain though very simple ceremonies, the liberal support of
certain ecclesiastical institutions, and the maintenance of cer
tain social moralities, stamp a man to-day, in popular estima
tion, as religious. Christ measured men by their capacity for
improvement. The tax-gatherer, who had enriched himself
by false accusations, was, in the hour when he promised resti
tution, more a child of Abraham than the Jewish noble who
had observed all the law of Moses from his youth up.* The
prodigal son, who had spent his all in riotous living, and
through a life of debauchery had come to know his want, was
nearer the kingdom of God than the elder brother who had
never wandered, but who felt within him no higher and un
satisfied soul-needs.f For the weeping harlot there was more
hope than for the self-contented priest.! This measure of
humanity we have yet to learn. Aspiration, not attainment,
is the true standard of character. From the Pharisees Christ
turned away, not because they were Pharisees, but because
there was in them no readiness to receive improvement.
Their religious life was stereotyped ; the plates were cast
and could not be corrected. He turned to the publicans and
sinners, not because they were sinners, but because in them
life was still in the form, and might easily be corrected.
A simple incident occurring at this time gave point to this
Pharisaic criticism of the course of Jesus.
He had been invited by a certain Pharisee to dine with
him. In the Orient the house does not possess the same sa
cred privacy as with us. A feast to a prominent Rabbi is
measurably a public reception. Strangers enter without in
trusion as by-standers and auditors. The room is thus often
filled up with uninvited guests. Among those who followed
Jesus to this Pharisaic house was a certain woman of the
town. Possibly he'r dress betrayed her.§ More probably she
* Luke xviii., 18-23 ; Matt, xix., 16-22. f Luke xv., 11-32.
X Luke vii., 36-50.
§ There is reason to suppose there was something peculiar in the arrange
ment of the head-dress of such women. — Kitto's Bib. Cyc. , art. Harlot.

A.D.32.] AN INCIDENT. 267
was a somewhat notorious character, and recognized as such
by the host. As we have already said, the proximity of the
Roman court afforded a fearful facility for the nefarious traffic
of the courtesan. She had already been touched by Jesus's
words, and drawn to him by that overflowing life of love
which no words are able to interpret to us. New desires for
another life had been awakened in her. She had looked with
envy upon those women who accompanied Jesus, and minis
tered unto him. As the ardent wish to enter his kingdom
flamed up within her bosom, and the utter hopelessness of
such a one as she ever doing so oppressed her, the great tears
welled up and began to drop, unconsciously to herself, on the
feet of Jesus, as he lay, in Orient fashion, at meat.* She
looked for something to wipe off these desecrating drops;
knelt down, took her long tresses, and tenderly wiped them.
But no sooner had she taken those feet, which, secretly and in
shame, she had followed, than the ardor of a passionate love
for one who had first awakened hope within her soul made
her forgetful of the time, the place, the lookers-on, all proprie
ties — she covered them with kisses ; then, drawing from her
bosom that ointment which she employed in her sinful life,f
she consecrated it to him, and marked with characteristic de
votion the purpose she could not frame into words by ten
derly anointing with it those weary feet she was privileged
to embrace.!
Christ divined his host's uneasy thoughts. If Jesus were
indeed a prophet, he would have recognized these unhallowed
hands. That he would have suffered their polluting touch
if he had indeed recognized their character never occurred
to this Purist; for can a man touch pitch and not be de-
* Our Lord would, after the ordinary custom of persons at table, he reclin
ing on a couch on the left side, turned toward the table, and the feet would
be behind him. — Alford on Luke vii., 38.
t Trench on the Parables.
X It was a custom to anoint the head and clothes on festive occasions
among the ancients. See Eccles. ix., 8; Amos vi., 6 ; Isaiah Ivii, 9. Com
pare also Matt, xxvi., 6, 7 ; Mark xiv., 3 ; John xii., 2, 3.

268 PRIESTLY ENMITY. [Chap. XIX.
filed ?* But Jesus, in that simple but never to be forgotten
parable of the two debtors, teaching the full and free forgive
ness of God, declared that the penitence of love was better
than the pride of purity, and that the very fullness of this
woman's love was the best attestation of the fullness of the
forgiveness she had received ; and, turning to her who stood
now trembling and abashed before him, brought back to self-
consciousness by his recognition of her involuntary homage,
he pronounced her sins forgiven, and bade her go in peace.f
It is in no wise likely, however, that Simon, for such was
the Pharisee's name, understood, or at least appreciated the
lesson. It is certain that no minister could submit to such a
demonstration now without subjecting himself to most trench
ant criticism ; and the most catholic Christian charity, despite
this lesson, has, in this nineteenth century, scarce a nook for
this class of sinners, to whom the heart of God, however, is
always open, and with difficulty accords to them any road to
reformation, whom Christ by name invited to participate in
his kingdom.
A certain air of authority, and a certain assumption' of dig
nity which characterized Christ's ministry, while they attract
ed the common people, offended their Rabbinical leaders. Of
these assumptions, involved as they were in the subsequent
trial for his life before the Sanhedrim, we shall have occasion
to speak more fully hereafter. It now suffices to remind the
reader how, in the synagogue at Nazareth, he had pointed to
himself as the one who was to inaugurate the acceptable year
* The touch of an unclean person was defilement. — Alford on Luke vii. , 39.
+ Luke vii. , 36-50. There is no adequate evidence to sustain the tradition
which identifies this woman with Mary Magdalene, a tradition which has,
among scholars, only the name of Lange for its support. — Lange's Life of
Jesus, ii., 152, 153 ; iii., 82-89. It is repudiated by Alford, Ellicott, Words
worth, Stier, Meyer, and Olshausen. See Smith's Bible Diet., art. Mary
Magdalene, p. 258, b. Neither is this incident to he confounded with the
later one by Mary at Bethany (Matt, xxvi., 6, 7 ; Mark xiv., 3 ; John xii.,
2, 3), with which it has almost nothing in common. See, for a discussion
of this point, Smith's Bible Diet., supra, and Trench on the Parables.

A.D. 32.] ENVY. 269
of the Lord ;* how, on the shore of the Sea of Galilee, he had
defended himself from the charge of desecrating the Sabbath
by pointing out the fact that the Temple service justified an
habitual exception to the Sabbath law, and claimed for his
service an equal exemption ;f how, twice in Galilean homes,
without pretense of priestly function, he assumed to pro
nounce sins forgiven ;! how, in the Temple at Jerusalem, he
had justified his working on the Sabbath by claiming for
himself the same right in this regard which was exercised by
his Father, God,§ and how, in all his preaching, he appealed
to Scripture not often, to reason less, to tradition never, his
highest authority being a simple " Verily, verily, I say unto
you."|| -^et us not wonder that to these Jewish Rabbis, who
recognized in Jesus only the son of Joseph, these assumptions
would seem blasphemous. It could not well be otherwise.
They can only be justified by the faith which perceives in
him the Son of God.
But, if their conscience was shocked, still more their pride
was wounded, for pride brooks nothing so ill as the self-as
sertion in another of superiority ; and Christ not only assumed
such superiority, but, worst of all, the people with almost uni
versal acclaim accorded it to him. -
For, after all, the greatest ground of complaint against Je
sus was that the people believed in him. They crowded the
synagogues to hear him, and, when the rulers no longer left
open that door of access to the multitude, they crowded to
hear him in the streets and fields. % In every conflict, they
sided with him ; in every defeat of his adversaries they re
joiced.** His success was his greatest crime. If he had gath
ered but few auditors, he would have been pitied, not pun-
*Lukeiv.,21. t Matt. xii. , 5, 6.
X Matt, ix., 2 ; Mark ii., 5 ; Luke vi., 20 ; Luke vii., 47-50.
§ John v., 17.
|| Matt, v., 18 ; vi., 16, 25 ; Matt, viii., 10 ; x., 15, 23, 42.
If Matt, v., 1 ; viii., 1 ; xiii., 1, 2 ; Mark iv., 1 ; Luke viii., 4.
** Luke xiii., 17; xi., 27.

270 PRIESTLY ENMITY. [Chap. XIX.
ished ; but his influence measured their decay, and there were
none among them that, with John the Baptist, recognizing
the fact, " He must increase, but I must decrease," could with
John the Baptist say, " My joy, therefore, is fulfilled."* Phar
isaism had fulfilled its mission. Its death -hour had come.
But the dying rarely recognize their own decay, and, despite
the signs of the times, it struggled hard, though unavailingly,
for its life.
Thus wider and wider grew the chasm between the popu
lace and the Pharisaic party. The more the people gathered
about Jesus, the more their leaders withdrew from following
and from fellowship. Already, with the sword of Truth, Je
sus was cleaving the nation in sunder, and setting family
against family. Magnetized by his truth, it lost already its
putrescent peace, and gathered in antagonistic currents about
opposite poles. Judgment had, in truth, already come to the
earth. Humanity separated itself; and, from this time forth,
more and more it has flowed in divergent streams, the issue
whereof is in that final separation which will be seen when
the encrowned King shall set the sheep on his right hand, but
the goats on the left.
In this growing antagonism there was one argument which
the Pharisees could not countervail — the argument which
Christ silently addressed to John the Baptist — the Mira-
cles.f The miracles are no longer the best evidences of Christian
ity. Nay, Christianity is itself the best evidence of the mir
acles. The full-grown tree is the clearest attestation of the
fact that the seed has sprouted. The superstructure itself
witnesses the firmness of the foundation which it hides from
view. The wonders of the past, effaced by the hands of
time, grow dim, and the faith of the Church rests less on the
works Jesus wrought in the first century than on those which
Christ is performing in the nineteenth.
But that century which had not the greater miracle of an
* John iii., 30. t Matt, xi., 4-6 ; Luke vii., 21-23.

A.D. 32.] MIRACLES. 271
immortal Christianity, possessed the lesser works which at
tended its advent among mankind. Jesus, come to found a
kingdom, possessed the signet-ring of the Most High, and im
pressed its seal on nature and on man as his credentials. The
faith of the people in Jesus rested not in the purity of his
life and doctrines, which they did not appreciate, but on " the
miracles, wonders, and signs which God did by him."* They
who could not understand how this man should forgive sins,
could understand that " the blind receive their sight, the
lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, and the
dead are raised up."f Even Renan is compelled reluctantly
to admit, as matter of indisputable history, that " only mir
acles and the fulfillment of prophecy could, in the opinion of
the contemporaries of Jesus, establish a supernatural mis
sion,"! and that, without the miracles, " the truth would not
have been propagated, and the world had not profited by the
immense moral superiority which his (Christ's) Father had
imparted to him."§ It does not seem to have occurred to
Renan as possible that God was as wise as himself, and took
the precaution that his truth should not lack this necessary
attestation to give it acceptance among men.
The Pharisees, at all events, could not and did not attempt
to deny the reality of the miracles. || They were matters of
common observation and of universal belief. But apparent
miracles are not always conclusive evidence of a divine com
mission. The witch of Endor, without authority from God,
seemed to summon the spirit of Samuel from his shadowy
resting-place. T The magicians of Egypt vied with Moses in
working miracles with their enchantments.** The Jews thor
oughly believed m a king and a kingdom of evil. Satan was
no shadowy embodiment of human guilt, but a real and po
tent person. Sharing, in a modified form, the dualism which
in part they may have borrowed from the philosophy of Per-
* Acts ii., 22. t Matt, xi., 5.
X Renan's Life of Jesus, chapter on Miracles. § Ibid., p. 116.
|| John xi., 47. f 1 Sam. xxviii. ** Exod. vii., 11, 22; viii., 7, 18.
12*

272 PRIESTLY ENMITY. [Chap. XIX.
sia, they believed in a perpetual, though not doubtful con
flict between the Prince of Darkness and the God of Light,
and the miracles of false prophets and of false religions they
attributed, not to sleight of hand, but to supernatural though
diabolic agency.
The miracles of Jesus left the Pharisees but one alterna
tive — to acknowledge his divine commission, or to charge
him with complicity with the devil. They chose the latter,
and he compelled them to proclaim their position. Thus :
As Jesus was teaching in Galilee, there was brought to
him a demoniac, a peculiarly sad and hopeless case, already
deprived of both sight and hearing. Christ cast the devil
out, and so effectually healed the victim that the blind and
dumb both spake and saw.* The amazed people began to
suspect at last that Christ was more even than an inspired
prophet. " It was never," they said, " so seen in Israel. "f
"Is not this," they asked, "that promised son of David who
should come to re-establish the throne of his Father ?"!
The Pharisees dared not openly stem the current which
was thus setting so strongly toward Jesus ; but among them
selves, those that had come down from Jerusalem! whispered
their contempt. || This fellow, said they, does not cast out
devils but by Beelzebub, the prince of devils. He has indeed
come to establish a kingdom, but it is the kingdom of evil.
He possesses supernatural powers, but they are those with
which Satan endows his agents.
An open enmity is better than a secret one ; and Jesus,
who might well have read their thoughts in their faces, if he
had not in their hearts, unearthed them, and by his calm but
powerful invective compelled the conflict for which they
were not yet prepared. " Satan," he said in substance, " does
not work against himself. The wonders of the magician
were wrought, not to emancipate, but to enslave Israel ; not
to glorify, but to withstand Jehovah. These very Pharisees
* Matt, xii., 22, 23. t Matt. ix. , 33. J Matt, xii., 23.
§ Mark iii., 22. || Luke xi., 17.

A.D. 32.] THE UNPARDONABLE SIN. 273
assume to exorcise evil spirits. Is their power also borrowed
from Beelzebub ? No ! The people are right, and the eccle
siastics wrong. If by the power of God the devils are cast
out, then is the kingdom of God truly come ; for first must
this old tenant of the human heart be bound before he can
be despoiled of his ancient possession. Let these Pharisees
beware. There is an unpardonable sin.* It has not been
committed by the Roman who has oppressed the people of
God; nor by the publican who has participated in that op
pression that he may share in its profits ; nor by the drunk
ard, the violence of whose appetite it would seem that noth
ing but divine power could quell ; nor by the harlot, who has
sold more than her birthright for less than a mess of misera
ble pottage ; but the ecclesiastic, who in the Church opposes
all reformations and renovation, the divine instrument of
which the Church was meant to be, in the name of God de
liberately withstands the cause of God, and not only employs
the livery of Jehovah to serve the devil in, but imputes the
livery of Satan to the Son of God, he is in danger of passing
that great gulf fixed which even divine love can never bridge.
In the Church, not without it ; among the irreligious and un
godly professors of religion rather than among the openly vi
cious and profane, are chiefly to be found the unpardonable
sinners — they that, " wise in their own eyes and prudent in
their own sight," call evil good, and good evil ; put light for
darkness, and darkness for light ; bitter for sweet, and sweet
for bitter — in one word, God for Satan, and Satan for God.f
Surprised by this sudden unmasking, the Pharisees remon-
* It belongs to the theologian rather than to the historian to define the un
pardonable sin, which indeed Christ seems to have left purposely somewhat
undefined. It is doubtless correctly described rather as a state than an act
(Alford in loco), consisting not so much in any specific sin as in that general
hardness of heart in which it becomes inaccessible even to the influence of
God's Holy Spirit, one of the chiefest indications of which is openly attrib
uting the evident work of God to the agency of Satan. But it is certainly
significant that Christ warns of it only those who, in the Church of God, de
liberately oppose God's cause. f Matt, xii., 22-37 ; Luke xi., 17-23.

274 PRIESTLY ENMITY. [Chap. XIX.
strate. They assume to be impartial investigators; to be
ready to acknowledge Christ's divine commission upon the
presentation of adequate evidence. " Master," they say, " we
would see a sign from thee."* But no sign could convince
them. It is the will, not the intellect, which needs to be
changed. And Christ, refusing their request, declares that it
is the Pharisees who have cast out the devil by the prince of
devils, and that the Jewish nation, cleansed by their reforma
tion of its idolatries, but inspired with no new life, is like a
man from whom the single devil has been cast out only that
seven devils may take his place, who make his last state worse
than the first, f
Thus, at length, war is openly declared between Jesus and
the Pharisees — that war which, descending a legacy to his.suc-
cessors and to theirs, will only cease when Christ shall have
perfectly purified his people of all pretense, stripped them of
all disguises, and presented his Church faultless before the
throne of his Father, without spot, or wrinkle, or blemish, or
any such thing.
* Matt, xii., 38. t Matt, xii., 39-45 ; Luke xi., 24-26, 29-32.

A.D. 32.] INVECTIVES. 275

CHAPTER XX.
PARABLES AND PHILIPPICS.
JMJRj^ENCEFORTH the teaching of Jesus undergoes a
jjpjfUfa marked change. He more and more distinctly
announces the radical principles of his kingdom.
He foreshadows the necessity of conflict and of
self-sacrifice in order to its establishment. To
the simple enunciation of a gospel which is glad tidings of
great joy to all people, he adds weighty denunciations of
those who, having shut themselves out of the kingdom of
God, will not suffer others either to go in.* He begins to use
more evidently that fan which John described as being in
his hand, and wherewith he would thoroughly purge his
Church.f This change in his teaching is seen alike in his
addresses to the Pharisees, to his own disciples, and to the
common people.
Now, for the first time, he openly warns the people to be
ware of the corrupting influence of Pharisaism. Hypocrisy
is the characteristic sin, as it is the greatest danger of corrupt
and degenerate times. Against it he has already warned
his disciples in the Sermon on the Mount. But now, before
crowded audiences, he denounces the religious teachers of his
day as hypocrites.! He borrows the invectives of his fore
runner ; describes the Pharisees as a generation of vipers ;§
compares them to a poisonous tree which can only produce
poisonous fruits ;|| their influence to leaven, secret, insidious,
and therefore the more powerful.1^ He points out the folly
of their concealments by foreshadowing the judgment when
* Luke, xi. , 52. t Luke iii. , 1 7. % Matt. xv. , 7. § Matt. xii. , 34.
|| Matt, xii., 33. f Matt, xvi., 5-12; Mark viii., 13-21.

276 PARABLES AND PHILIPPICS. [Chap. XX.
" there is nothing covered that shall nQt be revealed ; nei
ther hid that shall not be known."* They are perpetually
demanding some miraculous sign of his Messiahship.f He
exposes the false pretenses of this demand. They study the
heavens for the signs of the weather. They know from
clouds in the west that a shower is at hand ; from the south
winds that desert heats are coming. But they can not dis
cern, because they will not study, the signs of the times.!
The very air is full of portents. Elias has come in John the
Baptist, last of the prophets, forerunner of his Lord. The
nation has listened with awe to his teachings. The Phari
sees alone have rejected him whom they could not use.
And now a greater than John the Baptist is in their midst.
Least of the miracles which he has wrought are those on the
blind, the deaf, the possessed, the sick, the dead. The whole
nation, aroused from its lethargy at his words, as was the
only son of the widowed mother, witness to the life-giving
power of his doctrine. The worst, the wickedest, the aban
doned, the very dregs of Galilee, have turned their backs upon
their haunts of vice to welcome him who alone has ever
warmed their hearts to love. A greater sign than gave au
thority to the teaching of Jonah, a greater glory than robed
Solomon, characterizes the advent of him who is greater than
the prophet or the king. Asserting this, Jesus warns them
that the Queen of the South and the city of Nineveh, heathen
though they were, will rise up in the day of judgment to con
demn these hypocrites that recognize not their Lord, and re
fuse to acknowledge his royalty, to receive his love, or to
heed his solemn warnings.§
He rebukes, in caustic terms, that spirit of willfulness
which led them to turn deaf ears alike to the Baptist's pro
claiming of the law and his own heralding of the Gospel.
He compares them to children at play in the market-place,
who sit willful and sullen, refusing every call to join in the
* Luke xii., 1-3. f Matt, xii., 38 ; Luke xi., 16 ; John ii., 18 ; vi., 30.
X Luke xii., 54-56. § Matt, xii., 38-42 ; Luke xi., 16, 29-32>

A.D. 32.] SIGNS OF THE TIMES. 277
games of their comrades. John came preaching the law,
warning of judgment, inviting to sackcloth and ashes, to
tears and fasting. The Pharisee declared he had a devil.
Jesus himself came eating and drinking, and inviting to a
life of liberty and a religion of joyfulness. They sneeringly
said, " Behold a gluttonous man and a wine-bibber, a friend
of publicans and sinners." They would neither dance when
Christ piped, nor weep when John mourned. But the divine
wisdom, which speaks in different tongues and employs dif
ferent methods, now with seeming severity in John the Bap
tist, now with' invincible love in Jesus, will be justified, Jesus
says, by all the true children of God.*
The days are full of violence. The blood of a Jew is naught
to a Roman. In the crowd that gathers at Jerusalem on ev
ery great feast-day are always some turbulent spirits, impa
tient of Roman bondage, and not intelligent enough to see
that their riotings only make the yoke sit heavier upon their
necks, f In the Temple a tumult has lately been raised, the
soldiery have been called in, and the people have fallen un
willing sacrifices on their own altars. A tower, too, has re
cently fallen in Siloam, and killed eighteen, who were buried
beneath its ruins. These events have made an impression
on the public mind. Christ seizes them; he ordains them
prophets. These scenes of violence, he says, are but the dis
tant mutterings of the gathering storm. Nothing but genu
ine repentance can avert it. He sees, with prophetic vision,
the dreadful scenes of carnage which, later, characterize the
destruction of Jerusalem, when the Roman legions become
* Matt, xi., 16-19; Luke vii., 31-35. Such we understand to be the
meaning of this passage, in spite of Alford (in loco) and Lange (Life of
Christ, vol. iii., p. Ill), who give a reverse interpretation, making it the
Pharisees who have alternately invited John the Baptist and Christ to join
their mimicry. But it is not against waywardness, nor even against hypoc
risy, that Jesus is warning here, but against a sullen rejection not merely of
John the Baptist aud of Jesus, hut of God, by whom both were sent, though
in a different sense, and who thus, by opposite methods, endeavored, though
unavailingly, to reclaim his people.
t See Josephus, Antiq., xvii., 9, § 3 ; ]0, § 2 ; Wars of the Jews, ii., 9, § 4,

278 PARABLES AND PHILIPPICS. [Chap. XX.
high-priests of cruelty and death ; when the streams that flow
from the Temple run in a ruddy torrent, swollen and red with
the blood of the Jewish priests and the Jewish people ; and
when the falling walls of the sanctuary, which God no longer
recognizes as his own, whelm thousands in its own destruc
tion. With solemn mien, he points to these foreshadowings
of that scene of carnage and death. " Except ye repent, ye
shall all likewise perish," he says — perish, that is, by the same
sword of the Roman, and by the like crumbling wall.*
He adds solemnity to this warning by a figure borrowed
from one of the ancient prophets, f He compares the Jewish
nation to a householder's favorite fig-tree. It has enjoyed
rare advantages. The law, the prophets, the Church of God,
and his peculiar providences have been the portion of this
favored people. But it has borne no fruit save in Pharisaic
piety. Nay, because of it, the name of God is blasphemed
among the Gentiles ;\ and Jesus warns his audience that the
object of divine culture is divine fruit, and that this barren
nation will not be suffered long to cumber the ground. The
patience of God, that waited a hundred and twenty years be
fore the Deluge destroyed a sinful race ; that listened with
willing ear to Abraham's intercession for the cities of the
plain; that bore long and suffered much with the Jews in
past wanderings, is now well-nigh exhausted. Already the
edict has gone forth, " Cut it down ; why cumbereth it the
ground ?" an edict whose instant execution only the interces
sion of Christ has for a little longer stayed. §
He openly denounces the Pharisaic ceremonialism. The
dry and dusty soil, the custom of traveling with unprotected
feet, the habits of the table, each guest helping himself with
his fingers from a common dish, render, in the Orient, constant
ablutions necessary for cleanliness. Religious considerations
* Luke xiii., 1-5. There is nothing to fix the date of the incidents here
referred to. We follow Robinson in placing Christ's reference to it here.
Townsend (New Test., p. 125), Milman (Hist, of Christianity, p. 105), and
Andrews (Life of our Lord, p. 366) put it later.
t Isa. v. ,1-7. X Rom. ii. , 24. § Luke xiii. , 6-9.

A.D.32.] CEREMONIAL WASHINGS. 279
add their sanction to the custom. Frequent washings were
prescribed by Moses alike for sanitary and for ceremonial pur
poses.* The ritualism of Egypt, of Persia, of Greece, resem
bled in this respect that of Palestine. To the present day
the Moslem washes five times a day, that he may be clean to
approach Allah acceptably in prayer. These ablutions, al
ways performed in public, had been a matter of rigorous re
ligious observance with the Pharisaic party. An elaborate
code prescribed the method of the ritual ; for to cleanse the
hands was not enough ; they must be ceremonially clean.
For this purpose they must be plunged into the water three
times up to the wrists ; to pour the water upon them did not
suffice. The open palm of the one hand must be rubbed with
the closed fist of the other. The water must be fresh ; must
have done no work ; must be not running, but contained in a
proper vessel; must be in quantity a full quartern. Any
failure to observe these and kindred rules vitiated the whole
ceremony. Combined, they constituted a considerable trea
tise in the Jewish Mishna. The commentaries on them would
fill q volume ; for what really constituted compliance with
them '•¦¦was a perpetually perplexing problem. The water
must be fresh ; but is that which has been kept so by the in
termixture of vinegar or lemon-juice ceremonially fresh? It
must not have done any work; but has that water done any
work in which fish have been bred or eggs have been boiled?
Such were the religious problems which, with serious faces,
the Pharisaic doctors of the law discussed. On these they
made the salvation of the soul depend.
It is hardly necessary to say that such a ritual was practi
cally disregarded by the common people. It was only the
High-Church party whose conscience was tender as to the
mode of washing ; for the rest, clean hands were enough, and
Christ, who had called his disciples from the peasantry, inno
cent of all such ritual, had no thought of imposing it upon
them. He openly contemned this ceremonialism. He de-
* Exod. xix., 10-14 ; xxx., 17-21 ; Levit. viii., 6.

280 PARABLES AND PHILIPPICS. [Chap. XX
clared that not the food that enters into the body, but the
evil thoughts, and words, and deeds which proceed out of the
heart, defile the man.* He acknowledged that he transgress
ed the traditions of the elders ; but from those traditions he
appealed to the written word of God, which, by their inter
pretations and subsequent legislation, they had made of none
effect ;f and, remonstrated with by his disciples, who feared
to offend so influential a party, he responded that the Phari
sees were as blind as the people whom they pretended to
lead, and, with all their scrupulousness, were ever falling with
them into pollution. " If the blind lead the blind," said he,
" both shall fall into a ditch."!
But example in such a matter is far more potent than pre
cept, and Christ's example was not wanting to interpret his
teachings. He was invited, on one occasion abont this time, by a Gal
ilean Pharisee to a breakfast or lunch§ at his house. He sat
down with his disciples without the ceremonial washing, and
was at once assailed for his uncleanness.|| Now uncleanness
had a technical meaning in Palestine, and was a serious
charge. He that was unclean was cut off from all social
privileges. He was, for the time, an alien from the common
wealth of Israel. He was in a position analogous to that of
an excommunicant in the Middle Ages. " He could not go
about town ; he could not enter into another man's house ;
he could not eat with his friends ; he could neither kiss his
wife nor fondle his child ; still less could he enter into the
synagogue or into the Temple court. A civilian, he was
driven from society ; a soldier, he was thrust from the camp.
So long as a Jew remained unclean — a week, a year, a whole
life it might be — he had no right to any place in Israel.'"--!'
Under the law of Moses, this exclusion from society, which
"Matt, xv., 11, 17-20. t Matt, xv., 2-9. X Matt, xv., 14.
§ Luke xi. , 37. Greek, apiarno-n.
|| The reader will of course understand that this did not involve any disre
gard of personal neatness. If Dixon's Holy Land, vol. ii., p. 60.

A.D. 32.] TRUE PURITY. 281
was partly an act of quarantine, and partly a symbolic act to
keep alive the sense of sin and sensitiveness to purity, was
inflicted only on those suffering the major pollution. But to
the Pharisee every pollution was major. If he but touched
a Grecian vessel, or brushed his garments against a heathen
neighbor, he became as impure as if he had committed adul
tery. He might wanton in vice with less condemnation than
disregard a washing. Already, if we may believe Jewish le
gend, one Rabbi, for sitting down to meat with unwashed
hands, had been solemnly excommunicated and stoned to
death. The accusation was therefore not slight, nor its conse
quences unimportant.
Jesus replied, with severity, that purity depends on the
condition of the soul, not on the state of the skin, and that,
careful as the Pharisees were about washing the hands, their
hearts were full of violence and malice. The grave was the
very epitome of uncleanness to the Jew. He would not en
ter the city of Tiberias because it was built upon the site of
an ancient cemetery. Jesus declared that the Pharisees
were like unseen graves, full of corruptions, whose very pres
ence tainted the air. He sharply satirized their ceremonial
conscientiousness. The law of Moses provided that one tenth
of the fruit of the earth should be paid in taxes. The Phar
isees tithed the least of their garden herbs, but were oblivi
ous of the declarations of the ancient prophets, often as they
were read in their synagogues, that justice, mercy, and the
love of God were of more importance than all the ceremo
nial law.* Remonstrated with by a Jewish Rabbi, an in
terpreter of the law, for his too sweeping denunciation, Jesus
straightway included him and his co-teachers in it. They
were falsely called teachers, for they had taken away the key
of knowledge, and, by their traditions, they had buried the
prophets whom their fathers killed, and for the same reason
— that their voice might not reach and awaken the common
* Luke xi., 37-44.

282 PARABLES AND PHILIPPICS. [Chap. XX.
people; wherefore upon them, worthy successors of their
fathers, would come all innocent blood, from that of the first
martyr, Abel, down to that of the Zacharias who, in the days
of Joash, endeavoring to dissuade the people from relapsing
into idolatry, perished by the hand of violence in the Temple
courts.* The calmness of Christ added severity to his invective.
His voice was that not of a passionate advocate, but of a
judge. The Pharisees, laying aside all poor pretense of im
partiality, from this time forth endeavored, though in vain,
to provoke Jesus to some inadvertent act or unseemly words
which might impair his popularity with the common people. f
This open conflict awakens the fears of Christ's kinsfolk.
They half incline to give credence to the charge that he is
possessed of a devil ; at least, that he should initiate such a
conflict seems to them sufficient evidence that he is no lon
ger himself. To the worldly-wise, those who act under the
influence of spiritual enthusiasms always seem crazy. Even
his mother's fears outrun her faith, and she joins her sons in
the attempt to rescue him from his hazardous position, and
bring him to his home.! But Christ has consecrated him
self wholly to his work. He is prepared to illustrate his own
aphorism, " He that loveth father or mother more than me is
not worthy of me."§ Interrupted in one of his discourses by
the word that his mother and his brethren desire to speak
with him, he declines to accede to their request, and says
that henceforth whoever does the will of his Father in heav
en is brother, and sister, and mother to him.|| He that is
* 2 Chron. xxiv., 20-22. There can be but little doubt that this is the
Zacharias referred to. His death produced a profound impression upon the
nation. There was a legend that eighty thousand priests had perished in la
ter times to atone for his death, but that his blood was never washed away
till the Temple was burnt at the Captivity. It is possible that the addition in
Matt, xxiii. , 35, " son of Barachias, " may be a corruption of the text. This
Zacharias was the son of Jehoiada. See Alford on Matt, xxiii., 35, and
Smith's Bible Diet. , art. Zacharias, § 6. f Luke xi. 45-54.
X Mark iii., 20, 21. § Matt, x., 37.
|| Matt, xii., 46-50 ; Mark iii., 31-35 ; Luke viii., 19-21.

A.D. 32.] WARNINGS AND PROMISES. 283
joint-heir with Christ inherits more than a throne or a king
dom. He inherits with him a place in the household of God,
and a joint legacy of divine paternal love. To be the broth
er of Christ and the son of God — have we ever measured the
full meaning of these words !
Christ's disciples evidently share the fears of his family.
They warn him that he has offended the Pharisees.* To
them he seems to be closing the only door to the successful
establishment of his kingdom.
His instructions to them, therefore, are henceforth full of
reassurance. At the same time, he does not attempt to veil
the future from them. He tells them that he has come, not
to bring peace, but a sword.f He hints at the baptism of
blood with which he will consecrate himself and give victory
to his love.! N~°w, for the first time, he begins to use that
aphorism so frequently repeated afterward in his ministry,
and that has since become the motto of the Christian life :
" He that taketh not his cross and followeth after me is not
worthy of me."§ He reminds them that he has been called
Beelzebub, and that they are not to expect to travel a road
more royal than their king.|| He declares to them that they
can not be his disciples unless they love him for his own sake,
and are willing to follow him in evil as well as good report,
and to confess before others their love and allegiance. **-f
He admonishes them candidly of coming persecution. They
will be summoned before councils ; will be scourged ; must
leave old friends and sunder old friendships ; must brave
a universal hate. They must be content to live as exiles,
fleeing from city to city without a home ; must hold even
their life loosely.** But they are not to fear. They are march
ing, indeed, into a fearful battle, but they are assured of cer
tain victory. That assurance rests on the invincible decree
of God. He who has numbered even the hairs of their head,
* Matt, xv., 12. t Matt, x., 34-37 ; Luke xii., 51-53.
X Luke xi., 49-51. § Matt, x., 38. || Matt, x., 24, 25.
1 Matt, x., 32-34 ; Luke xii., 8-10. ** Matt, x., 17, 18, 22, 23, 39.

284 PARABLES AND PHILIPPICS. [Chap. XX.
and who suffers not even the worthless sparrow to fall to the
ground unnoticed, will suffer no real evil to befall his chil
dren.* They are few and feeble ; but it is God's good pleas
ure to give to them the kingdom, f The Pharisees will rage
fiercely at them ; but God will root up these proud Phari
sees.! Poverty will be the disciples' portion ; but they have
a treasure in the heavens that fails not.§ Now the night is
coming. The Lord is going for his bride. Slowly will the
watches pass away while he seems long to delay. But he
will come again. Blessed then will be those servants whom
he shall find waiting and watching ; but woe to those who^
forgetful or heedless of the promise of his coming, begin to
beat the men-servants and the maid-servants, and to eat, and
to drink, and to be drunken. ||
With such prophecies he prepares them for the coming
storm, while with such promises he strengthens their spirits
to meet it with undaunted courage.
A marked change also characterizes Christ's public instruc
tions. Hitherto it has consisted of the simple enunciation of
the message, " The kingdom of God is at hand.'"lT He has
made little attempt to portray its characteristics. He has
rarely indicated himself as its founder. To the popular ap
prehension, he has been content to be simply a prophet of its
advent.** He has taken up the threads of John the Baptist's
ministry that he may join them to his own. His Gospel has
been almost an echo of his forerunner's, ff The Sermon on the
Mount, as we have interpreted it, seems to be an exception to
this statement. But that sermon was delivered specifically
to his disciples, though in the presence of the multitude ; and
its meaning, interpreted as it is by the subsequent history of
the development of Christianity, is much clearer to us than
it could have been to the ancient Jews.
But from this time forth Jesus began to be more explicit ;
* Matt, x., 29, 30. t Luke xii., 32. % Matt, xv., 13.
§ Luke xii., 33, 34. || Luke xii. , 35-38. f Matt. iv., 17; Mark i., 14,15.
** Matt, xvi., 14. ft Compare Matt, iii., 2, with iv., 17.

A.D. 32.] THE OBJECT OF PARABLES. 285
to show that his kingdom was not of this world ; that it
gathered its subjects from all nationalities; that its only
weapon was God's truth ; that its glory was a glory of moral
worth ; that he was himself its founder. And though he did
not yet foretell the overthrow of the ancient theocracy and
the establishment of the Christian commonwealth in its
place — the destruction of that Jerusalem which was the pride
and hope of the Jews, that a new Jerusalem descended out
of heaven from God might become the hope of all nations —
he more and more distinctly declared that her gates were
thenceforth open to the Gentiles, and that the Israel of God
included all those who had faith in his name and acknowl
edged allegiance to his sway.
These truths, the orthodoxy of the nineteenth century, were
the heresy of heresies in the first. Simple as they seem to
our apprehension, they were incredible to the Jews. The
people were prepared to welcome with joy Christ's declara
tion, " The kingdom of God is at hand ;" were even ready to
acknowledge him their king; but they were not ready to
give up their cherished hope of a national restoration, and
welcome in its place a shadowy vision of an unsubstantial
kingdom, without territory, prince, or apparent power. Al
ready Jesus had tried the people at Nazareth. He had
preached to them that the kingdom of God was at hand, and
' all had borne witness to the graciousness of his words. He
had told them that the Gentile should participate in it with
the Jew, and had narrowly escaped their anger with his life.
A second preaching at the same place had met with no better
reception.* If he had plainly declared these revolutionary principles,
he could have gained for them no hearing. If he would in
troduce the truth at all, it must be in disguise. It was nec
essary that, seeing, they should see, and not perceive ; and
hearing, they should hear, and not understand.f Now, then,
for the first time, he began to employ parables. These he
* Luke iv., 16-30 ; Mark vi., 1-6. t Matt, xiii., 14 ; Mark iv., 12.

286 PARABLES AND PHILIPPICS. [Chap. XX.
used, not, as a popular orator employs tropes and figures, to
elucidate his meaning,* but to veil it. Thus he secured a
hearing for truths to which otherwise they would have re
fused to listen. Thousands have read Bunyan's " Pilgrim's
Progress," but dimly recognizing its full meaning, who would
contemptuously cast aside his sermons. The parable of the
Prodigal Son has enchained myriads who have never read the
seventh and eighth chapters of Paul's Epistle to the Romans.
Of these parables, a number have been collected by Mat
thew. They appear to have been delivered at about the same
time, on the shore of Lake Tiberias. They afford, in the lan
guage of symbolism, an explanation of the true kingdom of
God. Nature and life are added to the apostleship, be
come preachers, and have their before unknown tongue in
terpreted, f
This kingdom is not to be imposed upon unwilling sub
jects. It is a monarchy in that one king sits upon the
throne ; it is a republic in that every citizen enters only by
his own free choice. Even the Mosaic commonwealth was
established by the free suffrages of the people. This new
kingdom is to be a free growth from their hearts. Its king
is, therefore, like a sower sowing seed. His power depends
* This common explanation is quite inconsistent with Christ's own distinct
declaration. These things are done in parables, that (Greek, iva), seeing, they
may see, and not perceive ; and hearing, they may hear, and not understand
(Mark iv., 12). That he should have veiled his teachings in a mystic form, as
a punishment for the people's rejection of the truth, neither consorts with his
history, his mission, nor his character. At this time the people had not reject
ed his teaching ; they received it with applause. Had it been otherwise, still
he himself declared that he came not to judge the world, but that the world
through him might be saved (John iii., 17) ; and while certainly a teacher
might refuse farther instruction to a willful people — might decline to cast his
pearls before swine — it is inconceivable that he should go through the form
of teaching only to mislead them. It is the nature of the parable to intro
duce truth to hearts reluctant to receive it, and for this purpose Jesus em
ployed it. Eor a full discussion of the true character and object of the para
ble, see Smith's Bible Diet., art. Parable ; Trench on Parables, Introd. ; and
Alford on Matt, xiii., 3.
t Eor some account of the references in these parables to natural objects in
the immediate vicinity of the Sea of Galilee, see ante, chap, xii., p. 154.

A.D. 32.] THE KINGDOM OF GOD. 287
on the heart, which acknowledges or refuses allegiance to
him. Between the rocky-hearted Pharisee, who hears the
truth with stony indifference, and the penitent publican, who
receives it with joy, and treasures it in his heart, and waters
it with his tears till it brings forth fruit in his life, there is as
much difference as between the trodden path and the pre
pared soil ; and between these extremes are various classes,
each of which has its appropriate type in nature. What the
kingdom of God is worth, therefore, to any man, depends
upon what reception he accords it.*
Soils that are fertile in fruit are equally fertile for weeds.
Where truth grows richest, heresies grow rankest. The dar
nel, so like the wheat in its childhood that the experienced
eye not easily discerns the difference, makes manifest its char
acter as it matures, and produces death in the unfortunate
victim who mistakes it for the wheat, in which sometimes a
malicious foe intermixes it. There are two kingdoms and
two sowers, a good and an evil. The devil has his ministers
as well as Christ, and his disciples, busiest of the two, work
night as well as day ; but " error is dangerless while truth is
left free to combat it." If the Church attempt — as in the
Middle Ages, despite Christ's caution, it did — to uproot by
violence the heresy, to provide civil penalties for religious
opinions, it will be sure to destroy more wheat than darnel,
as we now know it did. Let her leave the deadly sower
alone. The harvest shall make manifest the difference, and
each shall go to his own place, f
This kingdom will not immediately appear; it is not built
— it grows i and growths are slow. As summer comes, when
soft winds summon from the earth the myriad hosts of fruits
and flowers, with no flying banners, and no sound of trumpet
or of drum, so will this kingdom of God grow up while the
world goes on its accustomed way, eating, drinking, sleeping,
unconscious of its presence and its power.!
* Matt, xiii., 3-8, 18-23 ; Mark iv., 3-11, 14-20; Luke viii., 4-8, 11-15.
t Matt. xiii. , 24-30, 36-43. X Mark i v. , 26-32.
13

288. PARABLES AND PHILIPPICS. [Chap. XX.
Its beginnings seem contemptible. This son of the carpen
ter and his twelve peasant companions afford apparently but
poor prospect of revolutionizing the world. . It is but a little
army for so large a campaign ; but in God's hands the largest
growths spring continually from the least sowings, as the
mustard-tree, one of the largest among the garden herbs,
comes from one of the smallest seeds.*
This growth proceeds by a process of permeation. Chris
tianity, symbolized by the leaven, which was to the ancient
housekeeper what yeast is to her successor, throws the entire
community into ferment, and finally permeates it only by a
continuous agitation.f The kingdom of Peace is established,
as Jesus has already said, only by a sword.!
This kingdom is beyond all value. Free, it is yet costly.
No one can be naturalized in the new theocracy who does
not heartily forswear allegiance to the old world. He must
count the cost, and be willing to sell all that he has to secure
this treasure, this " pearl of great price."§ For, though now
its worth does not appear, and though in one net both good
and bad seem to be inclosed, the end is not yet ; and when it:
comes it will then appear that this kingdom is an everlast
ing kingdom, and that he who has not achieved an entrance.
into it is indeed and forever a cast-away. ||
Thus, though in symbols, Jesus more and more indicates
the fundamental principles of his kingdom — a kingdom of
truth, of gradual growth, whose territory is the whole world,
whose good grain is for a time inextricably intermixed with
evil— a kingdom which promises to its adherents tribulation,
to all communities agitation, and to the world no peace till
the day of final judgment. In all these parables Jesus is him
self, though still in symbol, the central figure* — the farmer
sowing the seed, the husbandman in whose field the enemy
sows the tares, the man who sows the mustard seed, the
housewife who hides the leaven in three measures of meal,
* Matt. xiii. , 31-32. t Matt. xiii. , 33. % Matt. x. , 34.
§ Matt. xiii. , 44-46. || Matt. xiii. , 47-50.

A.D. 32.] POPULAR APPRECIATION. 289
the treasure and the pearl for which one may well sell all
he hath, and the judge who sends his holy angels to "gather
out of his kingdom all things that offend, and them which
do iniquity."*
These truths, thus declared, are nevertheless but little ap
prehended. The people, enchanted by the story, give little
heed to the moral it contains. Only a few of his more im
mediate followers come even to ask him for an explanation.
That he does not purpose to leave his hearers in darkness is
made evident by the fact that this request is never preferred
in vain.f On the whole, it may be safely asserted that his
popularity still increases. His fame spreads in ever-widen
ing circles ; it reaches even the ears of John the Baptist.
To the singular story of his life and death we must for a
moment turn.
* See Gladstone's Ecce Homo. t Matt. xiii. , 10, 18, 36, 37.

290 THE PRISONER AT MA CHORUS. [Chap. XXI.

CHAPTER XXI.
THE PRISONER AT MACHJERUS.*
j^AST of the Dead Sea, in the wild and desolate
region — still inaccessible and unknown — which
borders it, there stood, at the time of which we
write, the fortified city of Machserus. It was^ in
deed, a fortification rather than a city; for its
impregnable position and its elaborate military works alone
gave it its importance. Built on a steep hill of rock, sur
rounded on all sides by deep valleys, or rather, mountain
gorges, Nature had provided it with ramparts that made it
comparatively secure against the battering-rams which con
stituted the chief enginery of war of the first century. Art
had increased the defensive capacities of this Jewish Gibral
tar. Herod the Great had made it one of the chief military
posts of the Holy Land. Huge walls of stone surrounded
this inaccessible city, which scarcely seemed to need their
protection. The apex of the hill was crowned with a mili
tary fort of great strength, from whose top one looked down
the precipitous sides of the mountain on which it was built
into a seemingly bottomless abyss below.f The surrounding
country, barren of vegetation, could afford but little forage
to any besieging force ; while great stores of provisions, ac
cumulated here for future need, protected the fortress against
a siege almost as effectually as nature and art had protected
it against direct assault.
* Matt, xi., 1-15 ; xiv., 1-12 ; Mark vi., 14-29 ; Luke iii., 19-20 ; vii.,
18-30 ; ix., 7-9.
t "It is, as it were, ditched about with such valleys on all sides, and to
such a depth that the eye can not reach their bottoms." — Josephus, Wars of
the Jews, vii., 6, § 1, 2, which see for a full description of Machserus.

A.D. 32-33.] HEROD'S HAREM. 291
Here John the Baptist was confined a prisoner at large. He
had, that is, the liberties of the city. At least his disciples
had free access to him, and through them he was even per
mitted to hold communication with friends outside.* From
the crest of the hill he could look down into the valley of the
Dead Sea. A little to the north and west was his old preach
ing-place, the ford of the Jordan ; and in sight of his im
patient eyes was the peak of Pisgah, where Moses, the first
prophet, had lain down to die in sight of the land which he
had promised to Israel, but which he might not enter with
them, and close to which this last of the prophets was also to
lay down his life on the borders of that kingdom of God
which he had proclaimed as at hand, but which his followers
were to enter without him.
The story of the Baptist's imprisonment and death consti
tutes a singular and somewhat romantic episode, and affords
a striking illustration of the character of the age.
Among the ten wives that constituted the harem of the
voluptuous Herod, misnamed the Great, were two of the
name of Mariamne. They represented rival dynasties. Ma-
riamne the First, the granddaughter of Hyrcanus the high-
priest, had by her marriage strengthened the position of the
ambitious parvenu, who made the necks of better men than
himself the steps by which he mounted to his throne. Mark
amne the Second, granddaughter of Boethus, high-priest and
leader of a rival faction, brought with her marriage their sup
port also to the crafty politician who was alternately Saddu-
cee or Pharisee, Roman or Jew, Maccabean or Boethian, as
it suited his own purposes to be. Mariamne the First was
the favorite of his household. He loved her as ardently as
a nature so ignoble is capable of loving any one other than
himself, and his sensual attachment was for a time fired
rather than cooled by the ill-concealed contempt which the
haughty Maccabean felt for her royal master. To be the
wife of such a man is surely not an enviable position; but
** Matt, xi., 2-4 ; Luke vii., 18, 19, 22.

292 THE PRISONER AT MACHsERUS. [Chap. XXI.
it is part of the wretchedness of royalty that its misery is
coveted, not condoled with ; and Mariamne, the wretched
favorite of the royal despot, was envied, watched, conspired
against by her husband's sister and mother ; the suspicions
of the ever-jealous king were aroused ; her own haughty de
meanor aided the designs of her foes ; she strengthened sus
picions which she might easily have allayed ; she was charged
with a conspiracy to poison her husband ; confessions of com
plicity were forced from the unwilling lips of some of her
servants by torture, from others obtained by bribes, while
yet others, refusing to belie their mistress, paid the penalty
of their fruitless fidelity by their lives ; and the passionate
attachment of the lecherous tyrant turning to a jealousy as
passionate, the wife was condemned to the death which she
was believed to have prepared for her husband. She was
hardly in her grave, however, before he repented him of the'
crime which had consigned her there, and endeavored to
compensate therefor by transferring to her granddaughter
the attachment he had formerly felt for his unhappy wife.
Thus Herodias, borrowing her grandfather's name, became his
favorite. She was every way worthy the affection of such a
man, a genuine Herod, ambitious, designing, heartless, in
triguing, careless of every thing but her own preferment,
stopped by no scruple in securing it.
By the second Mariamne, the Boethian queen, Herod had
a single son, Philip, heir-apparent to his throne ; for it was
no secret that he was designed by his grandfather to suc
ceed his elder brother Antipater, son of Herod by yet an
other wife ; and the discerning eye of Herodias perceived
that there was little prospect that Antipater would retain
the affections of his father. Philip, too, was likely to make a
manageable husband, as in truth he did; so she gladly ac
cepted the proffer of marriage which her grandfather ar
ranged between the son of one Mariamne and the grand
daughter of the other, silenced whatever scruples she might
have felt against marrying her own uncle, and, as the wife of

A.D. 32-33.] INTRIGUES. 293
Herod Philip, already considered herself assured of becoming
the queen of the Holy Land.
. The ambition of the shrewdest is, however, amazingly
blind ; and Herodias, keen calculator as she was, had made
no allowance for her grandfather's capricious temper. So,
though it ought not to have surprised her, it doubtless did,
when the conspiracies for the succession, that made the dos
ing years of King Herod's life intolerably wretched, culminat
ed in a successful charge of attempted assassination ^against
the second Mariamne, and Herod, with far less compunction
than he felt in the execution of his first wife, pronounced the
divorce of the second, and, altering his will, disinherited her
son Philip, and divided the kingdom between Antipas, Arche-
laus, and a second Philip. He died before he had time or op
portunity for a new caprice ; his will was confirmed by the
Roman court, and so Antipas became tetrarch of Galilee and
Perea, and Herodias, despite all her scheming, found herself
no queen, but simply the wife of a humble citizen.
Philip was no true Herod, as doubtless his wife often told
him. He had no fancy for intrigue, and though he might
have taken not unwillingly a throne, he would not purchase
it by crime. Of unambitious temper, he accepted quietly the
position which was assigned him, and, leaving Palestine alto
gether, where indeed it was not safe for him to remain, lest
he should fall a victim to the suspicion of his royal brothers,
he removed to Rome. All this was very unsatisfactory to
Herodias ; and since she was unable to intrigue through her
husband, she began to contrive how she might do so despite
him. Queen she would be, cost what it might; and since she
could not get a crown for her husband, she began to contrive
how she might obtain a husband who was crowned. The
case, however, really seemed difficult. Though under both
Jewish and Roman law a husband might on very slight pre
text divorce his wife, the wife could not obtain a separation
from her husband ; for in that age, with few exceptions,, a
woman had no rights which a man was bound to respect.

294 THE PRISONER AT MACHsERUS. [Chap. XXI.
Herodias, too, already had a daughter by Philip who was
growing up to maturity. And the three sons of Herod the
Great, who ruled the various districts into which the Holy
Land was now divided, were already married.
To the wit of such a woman as Herodias, nothing, however,
is impossible, and neither her conscience, her self-respect, nor
her regard for the opinion of others was such as to make her
halt for trifles. There is reason to suppose that she possessed
considerable beauty of person, as certainly her daughter did
after her, and she understood how to employ it in the promo
tion of her ambition. Chance brought Antipas to Rome.
Herodias employed all the charms of her person, and all the
power of her wit and will, to captivate him ; succeeded ; and
when he returned from his mission to his native land, he car
ried back with him his brother Philip's wife and her daughter
Salome. Philip bore it apparently very philosophically, quite
willing, perhaps, to be rid of such a wife, and wondering at
the temerity of a man who dared assume to marry her. She,
on her part, disdained to share her throne with another ; and
so effectually had she played her part, that Antipas had sol
emnly promised, and it was a part pf the marriage contract,
that he would divorce his own wife, and send her back dis
graced to her home.
Nothing travels so quick as scandal. The story of the na
tion's disgrace — for the nation shared the disgrace with their
king— reached Galilee before the guilty pair ; and when they
arrived at the royal palace at Tiberias, the indignant wife, an
Arabian princess, whose hot blood could ill brook such an
insult, had flown back to her father's home ; her father, Are-
tas, king of Petra, was beating throughout his kingdom the
alarm of war ; his army was gathering to avenge his daugh
ter's wrong ; all Galilee and Perea, ashamed of their national
cause, were yet compelled to vindicate it, and with hanging
heads were gathering to defend the king they despised from
the chastisement he merited. That this illicit love might run
an untroubled course, and that this infamous woman's infa-

A.D. 32-33.] POLITICAL PREACHING. 295
mous ambition might be satisfied, mothers were parting from
their sons, wives were giving the last embrace to their hus
bands, and hearts of true love, from Mount Lebanon to the
castle of Machserus, were weeping prophetic tears of heart
breaking sorrow
The heart of the prophet was aroused. Untrained in that
school of theology which teaches that it is wrong to preach
politics, John the Baptist denounced the treacherous king,
his royal paramour, and the unholy war to which he sum
moned the nation. It is easy to conceive what power the
words of this stern old prophet possessed as he denounced
the iniquities of these successors of Ahab and Jezebel ; for
bade, in the name of God, the people from answering the
summons of the tetrarch; and reminded them how always in
their history they had been whelmed in irretrievable disas
ter and defeat when they had undertaken to battle — though
in better causes than this — without God for their leader.
The people were discontented ; they were ripe for insurrec
tion. Antipas dared not march against his foe, and leave
this discontent to foment behind him ; so one day a cohort of
soldiers were added to the Baptist's audience, and he was es
corted to the castle of Machserus, there to wait in silence till
the present crisis should be passed.
The crisis proved more serious than Herod had expected..
His army, ashamed alike of their leader and their cause, were
routed by the arms of the Arabian king, whose wrong every
soldier felt as his own, and nothing saved Herod from paying,
in speedy dethronement, for his crimes but the interference
of Rome. A message from the mistress of the world com
manded Aretas to desist. To resist this edict would be vain ;
and sullenly, and but half avenged, Aretas withdrew again to
his own boundaries.
While these events were occurring, John remained a
lonely prisoner in the fortress of Machserus. Nothing is so
hard to the man of active temperament as enforced inaction..
Patiently to wait is ever to such a one a harder trial of
13*

296 THE PRISONER A T MA CH.ERUS. [Chap. XXI.
faith than energetically to do or heroically to suffer. Elijah,
who hesitated not to face single-handed, in the name of Je
hovah, the four hundred and fifty prophets of Baal, sustain
ed though they were by the whole power of the corrupt
court, when his work was done and he fled to the solitudes
of the southern wilderness, felt his faith give way, and cried
out for leave to die.* So John the Baptist, who had fearless
ly preached the Gospel of repentance, who had inveighed
alike against sins of priest, of people, and of king, but who
had lived the unfettered life of a hermit in the woods ever
since his majority, felt grievously the irksomeness of his con
finement. He had seen the dove — emblem of the Spirit of
God — descend upon the head of Jesus. He had jDointed him
out to his disciples as the Lamb of God that taketh away
the sins of the world. He had obtained — the prophet's priv
ilege — a clearer vision than his contemporaries of the spirit
uality and universality of the kingdom of God which Christ
was to establish ; yet even he, probably, had little true con
ception of its founder as a suffering king. He expected, as
did all his generation, and even the early Christian Church,
that the kingdom of God should immediately appear.f He
assured himself, perhaps, that his royal master, coming into
his kingdom, would secure the instant release of his faithful
servant. But no release came. Herod still sat secure upon his
throne, his crime unpunished, and his iniquitous partner tri
umphant. The Roman legions showed no sign of waning
power. The infidel Sadducee was still high-priest, and pro
faned the Temple of God by his dishonoring presence. The
proud Pharisee abated nothing of his haughty pretension.
The King of the Jews, uncrowned and unaccepted, occupied
himself in preaching to the poorer classes the kingdom which,
if he were indeed the Messiah, he should establish, and in de
nouncing the Pharisaic party, which, if he were a lawgiver of
Israel, he should destroy. The Baptist looked for the earth-
* 1 Kings xix., 5. f Luke xiv., 1 1.

A.D. 32-33.] THE BAPTIST'S MESSAGE. 297
quake or the whirlwind ; he could not comprehend the still
small voice. As the months rolled into a completed year,
and showed no sign of the establishment of that kingdom
which, with but a partial understanding of its nature, he had
proclaimed as at hand, he grew impatient of the long delay.
He could not doubt that the kingdom was near, but he be
gan to wonder whether indeed his cousin were its founder ;
and at length, unable longer to bear the intolerable suspense,
or to resist alone the skepticism of his disciples, he sent two
of them to ask of Jesus whether he was in truth the long-ex
pected heir of David's throne, or only a new prophet of its
advent. He believed in Jesus ; he doubted whether he were
the Christ.*
Jesus was not yet, however, prepared to announce himself.
The crucifixion was to be his coronation. His kingdom was
to be one of love, not power, and the fruits of love are long
in ripening. Moreover, in the kingdom of God there is no
favoritism, there are no privy councilors. John the Baptist
must rest his faith upon the evidences which were vouchsafed
to the commonest subject. Jesus therefore added John's dis
ciples for the hour to his own. They witnessed his works.
In them they saw the promise of the ancient prophet fulfilled
— " The eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the
deaf shall be unstopped"f — and at Jesus's command they car
ried back to their imprisoned teacher an account of those
things which they had seen and heard. On this John must
form his own judgment of Jesus's character and mission.!
At the same time, Jesus guarded the people against misap
prehending the character of John. He recalled to their mem-
* Calvin, quoted in Lange's Life of Christ, vol. iii., p. 100, note, supposes
that John was not himself perplexed, but sent his disciples to Jesus to satis
fy their doubts. So Chrysostom and Stier, quoted in Alford on Matt, xi., 2.
Ebrard, Olshausen, Neander, Lightfoot, and De Wette suppose John really per
plexed by .Jesus's course and his own continued imprisonment. Lange, Life
of Christ, vol. iii., p. 101, notes a parallel in the experience of Moses (Exod.
xvii., 4), Elijah (I Kings xix., 10), Jeremiah (Lam. iii.), and even Christ him
self (Matt, xxvii. , 46).
t Isa. xxxv., 5. X Matt, xi., 2-6 ; Luke vii., 19-23.

298 THE PRISONER AT MACHJERUS. [Chap. XXI.
ory that scene by the banks of the Jordan when this more
than prophet preached to the gathered people a kingdom of
righteousness. They need not fear that he would ever prove
false to his convictions. He was no reed to be shaken in the
wind. However he might seem to waver, he was rooted in
a faith from which nothing could move him. He was no
king's courtier, to be bribed to silence by soft raiment. This
man, that lived on locusts and wild honey, and clad himself
in a coarse garment of camel's hair, would yield as little to
the blandishments as to the threats of royalty. If they did
but know it, he was the Elijah whose second coming the an
cient prophets had foretold. Chief among all the sacred
names of the old theocracy, he was yet second in his privi
leges to the least of those who were permitted to become cit
izens of the new one, as the least child is more than the high
est servant.*
Meanwhile the release which John the Baptist so impa
tiently awaited was near at hand, but it came in a manner far
different from what he had anticipated.
Herod was a Jew. He shared the superstitions of the Jews,
and felt, despite himself, the influence of their religious faith
and their sacred history. He remembered how many kings
that sat more securely on their throne than did he had paid
a bitter penalty for their maltreatment of the ancient proph
ets. The fate of Ahab,f and Jezebel,! and Jehoiakim,§ and
Zedekiah|| were all familiar to him. He seems, too, to have
been more weak than wicked — wicked because weak. His
conscience was not dead, nor his higher aspirations utterly
quenched. The Baptist, prisoner though he was, became a
sort of court preacher. The king sent for him often, and glad
ly listened to his stirring words — gladly, though with fear
and with compunction. Whatever court blandishments could
* Matt, xi., 7-15 ; Luke vii., 24-28 ; compare Gal. iv., 1-7.
t 1 Kings xxii., 15-38. J 2 Kings ix., 30-37.
§ Jer. xxii., 18, 19; 2 Kings xxiv., 1-4; Jer. xxvi., 21-24; xxxvi., 29,
30- II Compare Jer. xxxviii., 5-6, with xxxix., 1-10.

A.D. 32-33.] A STRATAGEM. 299
do, was done, to swerve John from his uncompromising alle
giance to the truth ; and, if the old hero could have been
made to keep silence concerning kingly wrong, the opportu
nity was rare for preferment, and, conscience might also whis
per, for extended, usefulness. But John's history attests how
truly Jesus had interpreted his character. He was as un
moved by flattery as by threats. Unable to secure the proph
et's countenance, Herodias was bent upon his death. The
very weakness of the king, however, withstood her. He fear
ed the people yet more than he feared his wife. His unholy
marriage had already aroused a storm of indignation before
which his heart had cowered in fear, and he dared not add to
it by the murder of one whom all the people reckoned as a
prophet ; so he compromised by keeping him still a prisoner
whom he neither dared to kill nor set at liberty.
The wily queen, not to be thus baffled, resorted to a strat
agem. It was Herod's birthday. The city of Machserus was all
alive with festal preparations, for Herod had imported from
Rome the heathen practice of celebrating with drunken or
gies each mile-stone on his journey to the tomb. The still-
impending war abated nothing of these festivities. The for
tress was transformed into a palace ; the martial sounds of
war gave place for the hour to music and to dancing ; the
king drowned his cares and drugged his conscience in the
wine-cup ; and the feast, prolonged for many hours, had be
come a scene of wild hilarity ere the crafty queen added to
its festivities the surprise she had prepared for her voluptu
ous husband.
In the Orient far more than with us, the dance is sensual
and exciting. The loose robes but half conceal the person ;
the unconfined limbs alternate between a poetry of motion
more graceful, and a freedom of motion more wild than is
ever seen in America, except perhaps in the ballet, which we
have borrowed from abroad. The dancer bears her instru
ment in her hand, and accompanies herself with her own

300 THE PRISONER A T MACHSERUS. [Chap. XXI.
music. Her entertainment usually follows the banquet, and
appeals, therefore, more strongly to the imagination of the
guests, already flushed with wine. Only the utmost exigen
cy suffers a reputable woman to enter such a scene of carous
ing as the Oriental feast affords. She will answer with her
life rather than submit her unveiled face to the rude gaze of
its debaucheries ; and only the professional dancer, who sus
tains in the East a social position yet inferior to that which
she occupies here, permits herself to prostitute her woman
hood to the entertainment of such an assemblage.*
But Herodias knew well her husband's character. Deli
cacy of sentiment was not among his characteristics. She
decked out her daughter in the habiliments of the dancing-
girl. At the appointed moment, Salome, instructed by her
mother, appeared at the door of the court, and completed the
sensual pleasures of the feast by proffering for their enjoy
ment an Oriental dance. The enraptured king gloried in his
step-daughter's shame. Like the Persian monarch who de
sired to display to his drunken courtiers the beauties of his
wife, he was proud to have his court witness the voluptuous
accomplishments of Salome. Joining in their wild applause
as the girl finished her performance, he promised her for her
reward whatever she should ask, though it were the half of
his kingdom. She demanded the sanction of an oath that
Herod, sober, might not retract the promise of Herod, drunk.
Then, in her mother's name, she called for vengeance on the
enemy who had openly denounced her sin and shame. "Now
and here," cried she, " the head of my mother's defamer on a
charger." The time and the occasion were propitious. Could Herod
have delayed, he might have saved himself the infamy of
yielding to the demand; but these Roman courtiers cared
nothing for a Jewish prophet. To those whose chiefest en
tertainment at the capitol of the world was the gladiatorial
* Esth. i., 10-12. See Smith's Bible Diet., art. Dance ; Thomson's Land
and Book, vol. ii., p. 345 ; Jahn's Archaeology, § 97.

A.D. 32-33.] DEATH. 301
combat, an execution only lent additional grace to a birth
day banquet, and it needed more moral courage than this
half-drunken king possessed to withstand the threatened re
proaches of the damsel and her mother, and the inevitable
raillery of the court. The command was given. The Roman
executioner carried to the Baptist, dreaming of release, the
summons to the block. Death opened to the captive the
gates of Machserus, that it might usher him into the liberty
of the kingdom of God. The Baptist's bloody head became
Herod's birthday present to his wife, while the disciples of
the martyred prophet obtained the poor privilege of giving
to his beheaded trunk a decent burial.
The justice of God does not always long delay. Herod's
fear of the prophet proved to be no idle superstition. Insti
gated by the ambition of his still dissatisfied wife, he went
a few years later to Rome to obtain from Caesar the title
of king. In grasping at the shadow he lost the substance.
Falling into disfavor, and driven an exile from the court, he
dragged out the miserable remnant of his days with his yet
more miserable wife, known only to be despised, all her well-
planned wickedness frustrated by her own over-reaching am
bition.

302 THE CRISIS. [Chap. XXII.

CHAPTER XXH.
THE CRISIS.*
ET us now return from this seeming digression to
the thread of our narrative ; a digression only in
appearance, since the Baptist's death affected the
mission of Jesus no less than the Baptist's im
prisonment had done. The latter Christ had ac
cepted as the voice of God calling him to his personal minis
try ; in the former he seems to have recognized an indication
that it was time for him to set apart his twelve disciples to
their work. They had been instructed in the principles of
their Master's kingdom. They had received the interpreta
tion of his parables. For nearly a year they had. accom
panied him in his ministry, witnessed his miracles, and listened
to his instructions. To the completion of their education it
was necessary that they should attempt, under his guidance,
to preach that Gospel, the proclamation of which, after his
death, was to be the business of their lives. He sent them
forth, therefore, upon such a mission, quite as much, perhaps,
to try their powers as to secure the public proclamation of
his Gospel. The Church which he had built he prepared to
launch upon its trial-trip.
Their mission was accordingly very simple. They were
merely to repeat the message of the Baptist, " The kingdom
of heaven is at hand."f The blood of the first martyr became
thus the seed of the Church, and from the one silent head
sprang up twelve speaking ones. They were to go in pairs,!
-"Matt, x.-xi., 1; xiv., 13-36; Mark vi., 7-13, 30-56; Luke ix., 1-6,
10-17; Johnvi.
t Compare Matt, x., 7, with Matt, iii., 1. % Mark vi., 7.

A.D. 33.] THE APOSTOLIC COMMISSION. 303
" for they were to be accustomed to work in brotherly fellow
ship, and when difficulties arose, one was to have the counsel
and aid of the other."* Like their Lord, they were to admin
ister to body, mind, and soul. They were to cure diseases
and cast out devils as well as preach the Gospel.f It is a
singular and significant fact that Judas should have shared
in this commission with his fellow-disciples. Longfellow, in
his Golden Legend, has portrayed Lucifer in the garb of a
priest serving at the confessional. There is truth as well as
poetry in the picture. In the new theocracy as in the old,
there are lying priests. The enemy in the garb of the hus
bandman sows the tares in broad daylight.
These disciples were limited in their mission. It was to
last but a few weeks. It was confined to the towns and vil
lages of Galilee. They were to preach to a people whose
habits of thought they understood. It seems not even to
have embraced the larger cities, where Christ himself person
ally ministered.! They were positively forbidden to include
in their missionary field Samaritan or Gentile cities. § They
were not yet prepared to preach his Gospel to the heathen.
They did not understand till a far later period that the true
Israel of God are all they who fear him and work righteous
ness. If they had undertaken to preach out of the bounds
of Judaism, they would have become involved in fruitless
discussion, and would have made, at best, only converts to a
reformed Judaism, They had no commission, as yet, to ex
pound the principles of Christ's kingdom, which indeed they
did not themselves understand. They were merely to pro
voke the public mind to an expectancy of its coming.
As prophets of this new theocracy, they were subject to
the laws, and were to claim the privileges of the ancient or-
* Schenckel's Character of Jesus, vol. i., p. 187.
t Luke ix. , 1 , 2 ; Matt. x. , 8.
X Luke ix., 6 : "And they departed and went through the towns" (Greek
¦cw/iac). Matt, xi., 1 : "And it came to pass, when Jesus had made an
end of commanding his twelve disciples, that he departed thence to teach
and to preach in their cities" (Greek iroKsaiv). § Matt, x., 5.

304 THE CRISIS. [Chap. XXII.
der whose successors they were. The characteristic features
of that order we have already described.* Like them, their
ministry was to be an itinerant one. They were provided
with no settled compensation. They were not to make bar
ter of their Gospel, but to dispense it as a free gift.f At the
same time, they were worthy of their support. They were to
claim the hospitalities of the people. They were to be evi
dently dependent thereon. In this respect, too, they resem
bled their predecessors. In their girdle they were to carry
no money. Over the shoulder they were not to sling the
Oriental traveler's inseparable companion, the traveling bag.
They were not even to carry a change of raiment.! The God
who fed the wandering prophet in the wilderness§ would
provide for them. Whatever house received them received
in their benediction that of their Master ; whoever rejected
them rejected him, and were denied participation in the Mes
siah's kingdom. The Pharisees, when they entered Judea
from a Gentile country, shook off the dust of their feet, that
heathen earth might not pollute the Holy Land. The disci
ples were similarly to cast off from their feet the very dust
of those towns which, by refusing to receive the good news
of the kingdom, voluntarily enrolled themselves among the
heathen nations. ||
Too much has sometimes been deduced from this first com
mission of the twelve. It has been concluded that the minis
try should always be an itinerant ministry ; that it should be
uncompensated ; that the prophet of God, now as of old,
should take neither money in his purse nor food in his bag,
but should rely on the free hospitalities of the people and the
special provisions of God for his support. The premiss is
too narrow to support so broad a deduction. Christ's com
mission was to the twelve, not to all the preachers of the
Gospel — for this mission, not for all time. His object, in part,
was to try what faith there might be in Israel. It was cus-
* See ante, chap, vi., p. 81-84. t Matt, x., 8. X Matt, x., 9-11.
• § 1 Kings xix., 4-8. || Matt, x., 12-15.

Mar., A.D. 33.] RETREAT. 305
tomary for the people to extend the rites of hospitality to
religious teachers. By relying upon that hospitality, Jesus
tested the readiness of the people to receive his Gospel. He
inaugurated no innovation ; he simply availed himself of the
Social customs of his age. He certainly did not aim to be
the founder of an order of mendicant friars, nor to establish
rules for a body of circuit preachers. This is evident from
his usual custom in his ordinary ministry. The infant Church,
under his leadership, maintained a treasury and appointed a
treasurer.* The disciples customarily carried provisions on
their journeys.f So universal was this usage, that their neg
lect so to do on one Such occasion seemed to them to be
worthy of self-condemnation;! and Jesus himself declared
distinctly that the direction not to do so at this time was ex
ceptional^ and constituted no law for the apostles' later min
istry. §
This mission of the twelve, brief as it was, had the effect to
extend still farther the ever-widening reputation of Jesus.
Vague rumors of this new prophet reached the ears of the
apostate king. An uneasy conscience awakened in him su
perstitious fears. He imagined that John had risen from his
tomb to haunt his kingdom. || A new danger, therefore, be
gan to threaten Christ, who, ever ready to meet death, was
yet not ready to die before his time had come. Upon the re
turn of his disciples, he accordingly took his Uttle boat, and
sought his customary retreat on the eastern shore of the Sea
of Galilee. This was partly to escape the inquisition of Her
od ;*T it was yet more to escape the inquisition of the people,
for the Passover was drawing nigh. All Galilee was begin
ning to gather in its towns and villages preparatory to the
annual pilgrimage to Jerusalem. The highways were filled
with caravans. Capernaum was crowded with gathering pil
grims. Christ and his twelve friends, meeting after their
* John xii., 6 ; xiii., 29. t Matt, xiv., 17 ; xv., 34.
X Matt. xvi. , 7. § Luke xxii., 35, 86.
|| Matt, xiv., 1, 2 ; Mark vi., 14. f Matt, xiv., 13.

306

THE CRISIS. [Chap. XXII.

mission in this, his adopted city, had neither time nor oppor
tunity for quiet converse. Even their meal-hours were not
their own.*
The River Jordan, entering the Sea of Galilee on the north,
divided the ancient city of Bethsaida into two sections— that
of Galilee and that of Gaulonitis. The former, on the west
ern shore, was a mere fisherman's hamlet ; the latter, Herod
Philip, tetrarch of Gaulonitis, had built, naming it Julias, in
honor of the daughter of his patron, the Roman emperor.
But in the bestowal of names the common people are more
potent than kings, and, despite the royal christening, this
half village, half city, still retained the homely designation
which its lowly origin had given it : it was still the " House
of Fish."f The plain on which this city stood extended to
the Jaulan range, which borders the eastern coast of the Sea
of Galilee, and casts its shadows on the palace of Herod
Philip. Landing at the farther extremity of this plain of Bu-
taiha, near the northeastern corner of the lake, Jesus and his
twelve friends found among these mountains a brief respite
from the labors of that ministry to which they had conse
crated their lives.!
* Mark vi., 30, 31. t Such is the meaning of the word Bethsaida.
X See Map of the Sea of Galilee, page 155, and note there. The topogram
phy of this region is undoubtedly involved in great obscurity, and affords more
than one problem on which the ablest geographers differ. Among these prob
lems, none, perhaps, is more perplexing than that concerning the site or sites
of Bethsaida. John describes it as in Galilee (John xii., 21) ; Josephus, as
in Gaulonitis. Luke tells us that Jesus fed the multitude in a " desert place
belonging to the city called Bethsaida" (Luke ix., 10). Mark tells us that,
after the feeding, " he constrained his disciples to get into the ship and go to
the other side before unto Bethsaida" (Mark vi. , 45). It has been conjectured,
therefore, that there were two Bethsaidas— one in the land of Gennesaret, on
the western coast, the other in the plain of Butaiha, on the northeastern shore
(so Smith's Bible Diet. , art. Bethsaida ; Trench on the Miracles, p. 223). This
conjecture, however, originated hy Reland avowedly for the purpose of harmo
nizing the Gospel, has absolutely no historical confirmation ; and Dr. Thomson
has shown (Land and Book, vol. ii. , p. 31) that the hypothesis is not necessary.
The River Jordan separated the districts of Galilee and Gaulonitis ; separated,
too, the fisherman's village in the one district from the king's city in the oth
er, which were, nevertheless, one town, and bore, with the common people, the

Mar., A. D. 33.] FEEDING OF FIVE THOUSAND. 307
This rest was but brief.
Under the mild skies and in the warm climate of the. Holy
Land, the benighted traveler feels no alarm, but lies down to
quiet sleep, the grass his couch, the blue skies above him his
roof. The tropical fruits furnish him with food, and the hos
pitality of the people, keeping pace with the generosity of
Nature, supplies the place which is filled in our colder climate
and more mercenary civilization by hotels. The people of
Capernaum had already learned the habits of their fellow-
townsman, and they, who a year before had sent Peter to call
back the retreating Savior, now followed him on foot to his
mountain retreat. From Capernaum, Chorazin, and Bethsai
da, as well as from smaller villages and private houses, there
poured an increasing crowd; some, drawn by the rumor of
his beneficent compassion, bringing their sick to the Great
Physician ; some, having their hearts strangely stirred by the
hope of the arjproaching millennial day of a restored Judaism,
coming to hear from the lips of the Great Prophet himself the
portrayal of that kingdom which they had heard his disciples
announce as close at hand ; some, drawn by sympathy and
curiosity, and following the crowd, as men still do, they scarce
knew why. . Thus, as the morning passed away, Christ from
his mountain retreat — a retreat no longer — looked down upon
a congregation of several thousand gathering in the plain of
Butaiha.*same name; and the disciples, sailing from the foot of the Jaulan "toward
Capernaum, " as John says they did, would pass near Bethsaida, especially
if in the darkness of the night they kept near the shore, and might, therefore,
well be described by Mark as going "unto Bethsaida," whither the Lord
would follow them on foot. For a fuller discussion of this subject, the reader
is referred to Thomson's Land and Book, vol. ii., p. 29, and Andrews's Life of
pur Lord, p. 212. See also, for the other view, Ellicott's Life of Christ, p.
194, note.
* Such, at least, seems to be the meaning of the Evangelist John (John vi. ,
3, 4). Mark, on the other hand, seems to indicate that Jesus found this con
gregation already on the shore when he landed (Mark vi., 33, 34). The dis
crepancy is not material. It may be that the people " outwent" Jesus, and
yet that they were not present at his landing, and that he did not descend at
first to meet them.

308 THE CRISIS. [Chap. XXII.
Their claims the compassionate Prince of Israel could not
resist. Foregoing for the time the quiet and the converse
which he and his Church .alike required, he descended from
the mountain to the plain, and resumed the ministrations of
his love. Their sick he healed ;* their souls' longing for the
good news of the coming kingdom of God he satisfied ;f and,
enchained alike by the eloquence of his words and the won
ders of his works, the people took no note of time, until the
western rays of the setting sun reminded them that night
was coming on;! and the clamor of hungry children, and the
foresight of the more thoughtful, brought to mind the hour
of the evening meal, the dinner of the Jewish people.
The disciples' little stock of provisions — five thin barley
crackers, barely adequate for as many persons, and two little
fishes, such as served the purpose of a relish to the otherwise
vegetable diet of the Galilean peasant§ — were not, in truth,
sufficient for their own meal. Their treasury was not ade
quate to provide for such a number, even if a market had
been at hand in which to buy. The people, prepared for nei
ther journey nor encampment, were almost utterly without
provisions. But among them were doubtless some whose
hospitality the disciples in their tour had proved. Jesus was
ready to demonstrate to his followers that it was not without
warrant he had bid them provide no store for their journey,
but trust for food to Him who fed the sparrows and clothed
the lilies.
He directed the concourse, who had hitherto gathered
about him in enthusiastic disorder, to be seated in groups
upon the ground. The women and children stood upon the
outskirts. The disciples were thus able to number the peo
ple with some accuracy. There were five thousand men, be
sides women and children. ||
It was spring. The grass was fresh and green, the air was
* Matt, xiv., 34-36. t Mark vi., 34. X Matt, xiv., 15 ; Mark vi., 35.
§ John vi., 9. Greek oipapta. See Smith's Dictionary of Antiquities, art.
Opsonium. * || John vi., 10.

Mar., A.D. 33.] SIGNIFICANCE OF THE MIRACLE. 309
fragrant with flowers, the lemon and the orange-tree were
just exchanging their blossoms for early fruit, the setting
sun was casting over the Jordan range a golden glow, in the
distance the farmers were returning from their toil to the
city of Bethsaida, on the placid lake fishermen were drawing
up their nets, and their white-winged fleets were hastening
to their homes, the birds were nestling down in the tree-tops,
and the sacred stillness of twilight was gathering over the
scene, as Jesus, taking these five little barley-cakes in his
hands, brake them, and gave thanks to God for the provision
which his faith perceived in store for the waiting people.
More wonderful than the twenty like loaves with which Eli-
sha fed one hundred men in Gilgal,* or the widow's cruise
and barrel which, through a long famine, failed not,f this lit
tle stock was not exhausted until all were satisfied. And
that he might forever set at rest such doubts of the verity
of this miracle as a later skepticism has invented, such, for
example, as that the people, entranced by Christ's teaching,
were indifferent to the claims of hunger, and, spiritually fed,
suffered the evening meal to pass unnoticed, Jesus instructed
his disciples to borrow from among the people their traveling
baskets, the common accompaniment of the Jewish pilgrim,
and gather up the fragments that remained. They gathered
enough to fill twelve of these baskets.!
Our Christian faith, instructed not less by the subsequent
history of Christianity than by the life and teachings of Je
sus, sees in this miracle a parable, as in all the works of Jesus
it recognizes an illustration of his life of love. " It is," says
an eloquent French writer,§ " the brilliant inauguration of
that fruitful miracle of Christian charity which has ever
since gone on multiplying bread to the hungry. The heart
of man once touched, like the rock in the desert touched by
* 2 Kings iv., 42-44. t 1 Kings xvii., 16.
X Compare, for full account of this miracle, Matt, xiv., 13-21 ; Mark vi.,
30-44 ; Luke ix., 10-17 ; John vi., 1-14.
§ Pressense, Life of Christ, p. 383.

310 THE CRISIS. [Chap. XXII.
the rod of Moses, has gone on pouring over thirsty crowds
the inexhaustible stream of generosity."
But more than that — in this one act of love we perceive
symbolized that miraculous multiplying of sacred influences
which, from one brief life of three active years, and one body
pierced and broken on the tree, feeds innumerable thousands
who sit, grateful recipients of the Bread of Life, beneath the
shadow of the Great Rock.
So we read this act ; so, however, did not the Jews.
For it was not only a part of their expectation that Jesus,
restoring the ancient theocracy, would resuscitate the pro
phetic order and the miracles which constituted one of the
signs of their divine commander, but in part that he would
repeat the miracle of the ancient manna. Drought and fam
ine should then be known no more. The prophecy of Isaiah,*
" My servants shall eat, but ye shall be hungry," should be
literally fulfilled. Israel should be gathered together. The
young men should feed on bread, the old men on honey, the
children on oil. Every palate should be pleased, every ap
petite satisfied, and the prolific profusion of the Garden of
Eden should repeat itself in the land of the Messiah.f These
prophecies of their scribes, with which constant repetition
in the synagogue had rendered the common people familiar,
seemed to them about to be fulfilled. This provision for the
body was more significant than all that which Christ had
provided for the soul. Their enthusiasm overcoming all
bounds, the people prepared forthwith to crown this prince,
and, taking him in their arms, bear him at the head of a tri
umphal procession into the Holy City,' in the midst of the
Passover feast, to overturn by a miracle the power of Rome,
and inaugurate the new kingdom of God. The disciples, still
but little comprehending the nature of that kingdom, were
but too ready to farther the plan and fan the wild enthusi
asm. Christ instantly perceived, and as instantly frustrated
* Isaiah lxv. ,13.
t See authorities quoted in Milman's History of Christianity, p. 103.

Mar., A.D.33.] WALKING ON THE WAVE. 313
their purpose. He commanded his reluctant disciples to take
to their boat, and set these people the example of dispersing.
He overcame their unwillingness to leave him in these moun
tain solitudes alone by the promise to join them at the mouth
of the Jordan, just below Bethsaida. Then, bidding the peo
ple to depart, he withdrew himself for an hour of repose and
of communion with his God in the mountain solitudes of
the Jaulan.*
The disciples had not gone far, and darkness had just gath
ered about them, when one of those sudden gusts which the
Lebanon range sends so frequently down the valley of the
Jordan struck the lake, and, despite the utmost efforts of the
oarsmen, drove their boat far out to sea.f Instead of reach
ing Bethsaida, as they should have done, in an hour or two,
midnight found them rowing against a head wind and over
boisterous waves to make good their appointment with their
Lord. When even the gray morning broke! their boat was
still out upon the lake, advanced, with all their toil, less than
three miles,§ and their Lord still waiting, as they supposed,
for their return. Thus laboring to come back to him, in the
twilight of the morning, when ail things seem strangely in
distinct, the disciples, already exhausted with their day of la
bor and their night of watching, see a spirit walking calmly
upon the waves on which it required all their seamanship to
keep their little craft alive. It makes as though it would
pass by them. They cry out with terror at the seeming ap
parition ; but, though they recognize not the form, they know
at once the voice of the Master. A word from him suffices
to reassure them. Peter, his fear changed to temerity, craves
permission to perform the miracle of the Lord ; but, his temer
ity changing as quickly back to fear, is saved from a watery
grave only by his Master's hand ; and Jesus is received into
* Such we understand to be the meaning of Mark vi. , 45. See p. 306,
note X, supra. t Matt, xiv., 24.
X Mark vi., 48. The fourth watch was from three to six A.M.
§ John vi., 19. Twenty-five or thirty furlongs, i. e. stadia. Ten stadia
are equivalent to a modern geographical mile.

314 THE CRISIS. [Chap. XXII.
the boat which he had come out to meet, the storm forthwith
abates, and a favorable breeze, springing up, brings them
speedily to shore.*
If we have read aright this story of Jesus's walk upon the
midnight sea, it is a significant fact — is it not a symbolic one
as well ? — that he went forth in the midst of the storm not
merely -*' swift walking on the wave;" not merely to show his
might by triumphing over Nature ; not merely to manifest
" the voice of Christ, mightier in its gentleness than all the
thunders of the storm ;"f not merely to bring succor to dis
ciples storm -tossed and in trouble, but to meet those who
were toiling against wind and wave to come to him. The
storm-tossed soul is assured of the presence of his Lord only
when, despite every obstacle, he is steering toward his Savior.
The succeeding morning was a holy day — perhaps the Sab
bath. All Capernaum was astir with excitement. The people,
returning, some in boats and some on foot, had brought back
the story of the miracle. And here a new marvel met them.
The Jesus whom they had left in the Jaulan had preceded
them. Vague rumors of his walking on the wave and through
the storm filled the air. As the hour of service drew on, the
synagogue was filled with an impatient audience, drawn hith
er in the hope to witness new and greater wonders, or to see
at least repeated the miracle of which some had only heard
from their more fortunate or more ardent neighbors. Thus
an expectant multitude listened with breathless attention to
Christ's words when at length the morning prayers were con
cluded, and he arose to speak.
But they were doomed to disappointment. They came for
a miracle ; they received instruction. They came to hear of
the glories of the approaching kingdom ; they heard the first
* " Upon their d oing so [*. e. , taking Jesus into the boat] , the ship, in a com
paratively short time— or perhaps immediately by miracle, but I prefer the
other — was at the land to which they had been going, viz., by the storm ceas
ing and the ship making smooth way." — Alford on John vi., 21.
t Pressense's Life of Christ, p. 384.

Mar., A.D. 33.] SERMON AT CAPERNA UM. 315
clear prophecies of the cross. They wanted to crown Jesus ;
he told them of his approaching crucifixion.
Ye have come, he said in substance, for a miracle, not for
the Messiah. But there is a more imperative hunger than
,that . of the body, a higher food than that of barley-loaves
and fishes. Labor for that. Rather in faith receive it ; for
that higher food for the soul's need the Son of God supplies.
It is, indeed, the very fruit of the tree of life, and hath im
mortality concealed in it. The manna which Moses gave to
Israel in the wilderness was but the shadow of better things
to come. The bones of those who ate thereof have long since
mingled with the dust ; but he that eateth of this bread shall
never hunger; he that drinketh of the waters that pour from
the Rock of Ages shall thirst no more. That manna of Moses
was for Israel only; this bread is for the world; and whoso
cometh to.me.for.it I will not cast out. He may die to sense,
but spiritually he shall live, and I will raise him up in the last
day. Murmur not among yourselves. Though you reject
me, whosoever has felt in himself the fulfillment of the proph
ecy of Isaiah,5!** and has ibeen truly taught of the Father, will
recognize beneath the disguise of the son of the carpenter the
Son of God. Every, such a one cometh unto me, and he that
believeth on me hath partaken of the true bread of heaven,
hath received everlasting life. This. bread I will give by no
miracle, but by my. death. While I live I can not give life
to the world. My blood must be spilt and my body broken ;
for the death of the Messiah, not his coronation, is the life of
the world. The bread which I will give is my flesh. " For
verily, verily, I say unto yo.u, except ye eat the ; flesh of the
Son of man, and drink his blood, ye have no life in you;"
but " He that eateth my flesh and drinketh my blood, dwell-
eth in me and I in him."f
The impatient interruptions of the people deepen, as Christ
proceeds, into bitter and open indignation. Prosaic natures
interpret literally these parabolic sayings ; and to drink
* Isaiah liv. ,13. t John vi. , 26-58.

316 THE CRISIS. [Chap. XXII.
blood is the very abysm of degradation to the Jew. They
that perceive beneath the veil the hidden meaning, are not
less indignant at a doctrine which throws open the Messiah's
kingdom to all comers, denies to the Jew any pre-eminence,
and declares that it is in the death of their king that Israel
is to conquer the world. Even among the outer circle of
his disciples there be many who pronounce with bitterness
against him. " Such language is impious," they cry ; " who
can endure to listen to it ?"* The congregation that gather
ed in enthusiasm separate in discontent. Even among the
twelve, one, feeling his ambitious expectations blasted, mani- .
fests to the sensitive apprehension of Jesus signs of that dis
affection which later blossoms into treachery.f His com
panions so ill conceal their disappointment and perplexity
that Jesus, beginning already to feel that sense of isolation
which saddens all his later life, appeals to them with rare
pathos : Will ye also go away ? Surely his heart is touched
by the response of him whom Nature made spokesman for the
rest. To whom shall we go ? Thou hast the words of eter
nal life, and we believe — yea, know that thou art the Christ,
the Son of God-!
The verdict of Nazareth is confirmed at Capernaum. Gali
lee has rejected the Gospel, and it will not again be preached
to her ; within her bounds there is no longer safety for her
Lord. The Pharisees are laying in wait for his life. Herod
is seeking to seize him. The people, advised of the true na
ture of his mission, turn against him. Among his own disci
ples many follow him no more. Nor can he accompany his
neighbors to the paschal feast at Jerusalem, for the Sanhe
drim have pronounced him worthy of death ; and if still there
are many ready to yield him a warm welcome, it is only as
a political Messiah, a national reformer, a Jewish Kossuth,
Cromwell,Washington, not as the Lord of life to all mankind.
* John vi., 60 ; and Alford thereon. f John v., 64-70.
X Kai iiiiuQ irenidTivKa^iv koi iyvoiKap.iv on av ti 6 Xpiarbc, 6 vibe tov
Qeov. — John vi. , 69.

A.D. 33.] JESUS REJECTED. 317
While, therefore, all Galilee is turning its face southward to
attend the annual gathering of the nation in the Holy City,
Jesus proceeds in the opposite direction. Of all the multi
tude who have hitherto accompanied him, the twelve alone
remain still faithful to their Lord. By their following they
testify their choice of the new kingdom in preference to the
old theocracy ; their recognition of the superiority of the
claims of the Lamb of God to those of the paschal Lamb
which Moses had provided.
An outcast by his own people, an exile from his native
land, Jesus enters the coasts of Tyre and Sidon.

318

EXILE.

[Chap. XXIII.

CHAPTER XXm.

EXILE.*

sHAT were the coasts of Tyre and Sidon ?
In the early dawn of the race, the great-
grandson of Noah — Sidon, son of Canaanf —
turning his steps westward to seek his for
tunes in a new land, looked down from the
heights of Lebanon upon the coast whose fertile plains are
kissed by the blue waves of the Mediterranean Sea. At his
feet lay a narrow but exceedingly beautiful strip of land,!
whose verdure was in striking and restful contrast to the arid
deserts of Arabia, and the inhospitable snows of the Lebanon
and anti-Lebanon which he had crossed in his pilgrimage
hither. The breezes that swept over the vast, and, to his eye,
illimitable expanse of blue waves, were singularly refreshing
to one whose chief experience of wind was the sirocco of the
southern desert. He seemed to himself to be the discoverer
of a new Eden. There he fixed his future home. On the
shore of this waste of waters, remnant of the flood, he laid the
foundations of the city which was called by his name, Zidon,
or Sidon ; and his descendants, peopling this beautiful plain,
borrowed the name of his father, and gave to the whole land,
which they shared in common with the descendants of other
sons of Canaan, the title of their ancestor. Thus Palestine
became known in Hebrew literature as the land of Canaan,
and the inhabitants as Canaanites. As time rolled on, how
ever, and the origin of this people was lost to view in the
* Matt, xv., 21-39; xvi.; xvii.; xviii.; Mark vii., 24-37; viii.; ix. ;
Luke ix., 18-50 ; John vii., 2-10. f (Jen. x. 15.
X Twenty-eight miles in length, and from one to four miles in width.

A.D. 33.]

TYRE AND SIDON.

319

mists of antiquity, the land ceased to bear the name of its
first settlers. The Greeks, careless -of the past history of these
aborigines, but enamored of the palm groves which beautify
this plain, called it the land of the palm, in their language the
land of the Phoinix, or of Phoenice ; the people who inhabited

320 EXILE. [Chap. XXIII.
it Phoenicians. Modern literature, borrowing its terms from
that of Greece, has perpetuated this title, by which accord
ingly the inhabitants of Tyre and Sidon are chiefly known in
modern history.*
Tyre, an offspring of the original city of Sidon, outgrew her
parent, and became in a little while the chief commercial city,
not only of Palestine, but indeed of the Orient, if not of the
world. Her harbor, quite inadequate for modern ships, gave
safe anchorage to the galleys of ancient times. Her site, an
island of rock, inaccessible by ordinary approaches from the
shore, secured her from roving bands of robbers, and rendered
her seemingly safe from those hazards of war which deso
lated and destroyed so many of her less fortunate neighbors.
Joshua, when he occupied the Holy Land, made no attempt
to drive out the aborigines from these plains, or to follow
them in their retreat to their chief city of Sidon. f David
maintained treaties of amity with Hiram, king of Tyre.! Sol
omon renewed and perpetuated them.§ And so, while Israel
was in perpetual war with her southern neighbors, the Philis
tines, she lived in peace with the inhabitants of her northern
frontier, finding among these commercial people good mar
ket for her wheat and fruits, and needing in return the pro
ducts of their skill and the imports of their commerce.
The prosperity of these people, however, was not more the
result of their natural advantages than of their innate skill
and energy. They were the Dutch of the Orient. In the
prosecution of commercial enterprises their vigor was bound
less. Their ships and caravans penetrated every part of the
then known world. They brought gold from the Persian
Gulf; silver and iron from the south of Spain ; lambs from
the Bedouin shepherds of Arabia ; wheat and honey from
Palestine ; wine and fine wool from Damascus ; horses and
* See Thomson, Land and the Book, vol. i. , p. 239-243 ; Josephus, Antiq
uities, i., 6, § 2 ; Smith's Bible Dictionary, art. Phoenicians, § 1.
t Joshua xi., 8 ; compare Judges i., 31. X 2 Sam. v., 11.
§ 1 Kings v., 1-12.

A.D. 33.] HISTORY OF TYRE. 321
mules from the shores of the Black Sea.* Wherever their
commerce went their colonies followed. Carthage, the long-
threatening rival of the Mistress of the World, was but one
of the many shoots of Phoenician planting. Their skill in
manufactures equaled their energy in commerce. They were
the ship-builders of the Mediterranean ; wrought curiously in"
the cedars that grew on the hill-sides of the adjoining Leba
non ; worked skillfully in gold, silver, copper, iron ; spun, and
wove, and embroidered in linen,. wool, and silk; extracted
from the shellfish that abounded on their shores material for
the finest and most elegant purple dyes ; and, in brief, consti
tuted their markets of foreign imports and domestic manufac
ture the emporium for the whole world. They are believed*
to have been the inventors of letters, unless, indeed, these
were the gift of God to man, as in the earlier ages of the
world they were believed to have been. They were the first
builders of ships, the idea of which Canaan had perhaps bor
rowed from his grandfather Noah, the first naval architect.
How insignificant a relation the size of a country bears to its
usefulness receives thus a new illustration in the fact that this
little slip of land, scarcely twice as large as the island of Man
hattan, is the primeval cradle of commerce and of letters.
Commercial rivalries proved the ruin of this once happy
land. Sidon, jealous of her daughter's prosperity, betrayed
her. Tyre yielded to the all-conquering arms of Alexander,
aided by the fleets of the treacherous mother city. In the
dissolution of the conqueror's kingdom Phoenicia became a
province of Syria. In the time of Christ she had already lost
her individuality. Greek, Syrian, and Canaanite were inex
tricably mixed in a Syro-Phoenician population, and the once
proud land of Phcenice, mother of commerce, and once mis
tress of the seas, was known to the Grecian and Roman world
only by the names of its chief cities as the coasts of Tyre and
Sidon. It as yet, however, abated little or nothing of its com-
* For a description of Tyrian manufactures and commerce, see Ezekiel
xxvii.

322 EXILE. [Chap. XXIII.
mercial prosperity. It had lost, not its national wealth, only
its national life. When Christ looked upon the towers of
Tyre, it was still, probably, the largest city in the Holy Land.
Jerusalem alone compared with it.
But commercial prosperity can not permanently outlive
political decay. Tyre and Sidon are now only remnants of
the past. The former city, the home of a few thousand Ori
ental peasants living in wretched huts, is famous chiefly for
the multiplicity of its ruins. A traffic of millstones, which are
conveyed hither by caravans from the Hermon, to be ship
ped thence to Alexandria, is all that is left of its once omniv
orous commerce. The granite columns that formerly flashed
back the sun from a hundred temples and palaces lie in frag
ments strewing the sea, imperfect, yet eloquent witnesses to
its former glory. On its bald rock, shorn of its ancient arch
itectural grandeur, the fishermen dry their nets, giving to the
word of God a literal fulfillment,* while the shallow waters
of its once busy harbor, offering no haven for modem com
merce, render certain its perpetual realization. The fallen
fortunes of Tyre can never be retrieved. Should an honest
government ever become the heritage of this now desolate
land, should commerce once more cover the waters of the
Eastern Mediterranean, and agriculture clothe these now
barren hills and plains with vineyards and fields of waving
wheat, Tyre must still remain a terrible witness to the cer
tainty of divine judgments, an everlasting monument on
whose ruins the traveler will ever read the dread decree,
" Thou shalt be built no more."
Into these coasts Jesus now retreated. His object was
rest. It was no part of his purpose to preach the Gospel to
the heathen, f As yet, indeed, there was no Gospel for the
heathen. If, by the coronation of her king, Israel, accepting
the universal sceptre which was first proffered to her, would
* "And I will make thee like the top of a rock ; thou shalt be a place to
spread nets upon ; thou shalt be built no more ; for I the Lord have spoken
it, saith the Lord God." — Ezekiel xxvi., 14. t Matt, xv., 24.

A.D. 33.] THE SYRO-PHCENICIAN WOMAN. 323
with her own hands unbolt the gates of proscription and ad
mit Gentile nations to her Temple courts, she might do so ;
but it must be her own free act. If not, it was necessary
that Christ's rejection should be open, public, official, before
he turn the enginery of his cross upon those gates, break
them down, and fuse in one kingdom all nations. As yet,
therefore, he had no Gospel to preach to the heathen. He
had only to proffer it in language unmistakable to the Jews.
Into the coasts of Tyre* and Sidon he came, not to extend his
ministry, but to rest from it.
A friendly house gave to him and his twelve companions
a hospitable greeting, but it was unable to give him the
quiet he desired.* A woman of the neighborhood had heard
of his miracles ; vague stories had reached her of a descend
ant of one of the ancient kings of her Jewish neighbors who
possessed the same virtues which fable attributed to Solo
mon, f Devils he cast out, and her daughter was possessed
of one. She came to make trial of his skill. But publicity
would defeat the very end of Christ's retreat. A single mir
acle would bring innumerable demands for more. He de
clined, therefore, to give her audience. She importuned the
disciples. The stories which they told her of their master's
cures strengthened her faith and intensified the earnestness
of her hope. All the mother in her was aroused. These
twelve guardians of their master's repose could not with
stand her. They went to Jesus with her story to ask. him
to send her away. Israelites still, they looked with ill-con
cealed contempt on this woman, in whose veins flowed com
mingled the blood of three apostate races.! &he followed
the apostles unbidden, forced her way into their master's
presence, threw herself at his feet, and implored his aid with
all the agonized earnestness of a mother's heart. Jesus,
* " He entered into an house and would have no man know it ; but he
could not be hid." — Mark vii., 24.
t Josephus, Antiquities, viii., 2, § 5 ; and Whiston's note thereon.
X Greek, Phoenician, Syrian.

324 EXILE. [Chap. XXIII.
weary, way-worn, anxious for rest, sorely needing it, could
not deny a cry so earnest. At the same time, he seized the
opportunity to teach, by a gentle irony, a lesson to his still
narrow-minded followers.
" It is not meet," said he, " to take the bread from these
children, and cast it to Gentile dogs."
In the language of good-humored satire, he seemed to adopt
the prejudices of his nation. Really he rebuked them, for to
Jesus no child of God was in truth a dog. He who had re
minded the congregation at Nazareth that the love of God
provided for a Phoenician widow while all the widows of Is-
rel were passed by,* had not so soon forgotten his own les
son. The woman's quick intuition read in his face what we
fail to fully read in his interpreted words. Her ready repar
tee is the language of awakened hope, not the last despairing
cry of a crushed and broken heart.
" Truth, Lord ; but the dogs eat of the crumbs that fall
from the children's table."
The mother comprehended the heart of Jesus more accu
rately than the disciples. Love is his best interpreter. By
her faith in his goodness, a faith which his Church was not
able to extinguish, she won for her daughter the healing she
desired. " O woman !" said Jesus, " great is thy faith ! Go
thy way. The devil is gone out of thy daughter, "f
After this incident Phoenicia can no longer afford Christ re
pose. Passing northward through the city of Sidon, climb
ing the cedar-clad hills of Lebanon, that look down upon that
most ancient of cities, and thence following down the Jordan
from its source at the foot of Hermon's snowy peak, he comes
*Lukeiv.,25, 26.
1 1 find no scholastic authority for this interpretation of this incident. Je
sus's reply is generally regarded as a rebuke, or at least a repulsion of the
woman, over which cold and seemingly harsh rebuff her faith triumphs ; but
this interpretation I am quite unable to harmonize either with the circum
stances of the account or the general spirit and teachings of Jesus Christ. It
is, I think, a rebuke of the Jewish prejudices which still inhered in the disci
ples, and must have been interpreted to both them and her by a smile and
tone which no report could portray.

A,D. 33.] SECLUSION. 325
again to his lake home among the hills of Galilee ;* but not to
preach.f He has already exemplified his own direction to his
apostles : " Whosoever shall not receive you, nor hear your
words, when ye depart out of that house or city, shake off the
dust of your feet."! *^*e nas lifted, up his warning voice in
solemn denunciation against the cities of the sea. Chorazin
and Bethsaida looked on Tyre and Sidon with all the bitter
ness of a petty envy, aggravated by that of intense religious
bigotry. He has told them that, in the day of judgment, the
lot of these heathen cities shall be more tolerable than theirs.
Capernaum accounted herself the favored child of heaven ;
but he has warned her that she shall share the obliteration
of ancient Sodom. § He has no new gospel for the cities of
Galilee ; he avoids the haunts of men ; he chooses the moun
tain solitudes of the eastern shore. || When the people, learn
ing perhaps of his retreat from the disciples, who may well
have been compelled to go to the cities to buy food, flock in
multitudes to him, he heals their sick, and restores their lame
and impotent, and, looking with compassion on this fasting
multitude, again provides for them by a word, feeding four
thousand people with seven loaves and a few small fishes.
But he sends them quickly thereafter away ;f nor does he
accompany these works of mercy with any farther proclama
tion of the Gospel.**
Once, indeed, as he descends from the mount of transfigu
ration, presently to be described, it may seem to his disciples
that he will begin again his triumphant career of miracles.
The devil that they can not cast out he exorcises with a word ;
the boy that is left for dead he raises with a touch ; and the
scornful scribes are again abashed, the downcast disciples tri-
* Mark vii., 31. We follow the reading of Alford (see authorities quoted
in his digest of various readings in loco) : " And again, departing from the
coasts of Tyre, he came through Sidon to the Sea of Galilee."
t There is no clear record of any public preaching in Galilee after the ser
mon on the Bread of Life at Capernaum. X Matt, x., 14.
§ Matt. xi. , 20-24. || Matt. xv. , 29.
1 Matt. xv. , 32-38 ; Mark viii. , 1 -9. ** See Matt. xv. , 30, 31.

326 EXILE. [Chap. XXIII.
umphant, the people rejoiced. But this miracle is followed
by no others, and it is wrought less in attestation of his Mes-
siahship than at once to rebuke and confirm the wavering
faith of his own but half-believing Church.* If he goes into
any of the cities, he still endeavors to remain unknown ;f when
a deaf and dumb man is brought to him, he takes him aside
from the multitude before he opens his ears and loosens his
tongue ;! when, in the city of Bethsaida, a blind man is
brought to him, it is not till he has led him outside the city
walls that he bids him see ;§ and alike upon the subjects
of his healing|| and upon his disciples*!" ne enjoins secrecy,
though for the most part seemingly in vain.** So marked is
this change in his ministry — so evident is his effort during
these six months of exile to secure retirement and to live un
noticed, that his brethren taunt him with his concealment,
and dare him to show himself openly to the world if he be
indeed the Messiah that he claims to be.ff
Still seeking the repose which Galilee can not give him, he
leaves once more the lake, and, following up the Jordan to its
head waters, retires with his disciples to the mountainous re
gion whose snows supply the chief rivers and the few lakes
of the Holy Land.!!
Amid some of the most magnificent mountain scenery of
the world, if we may trust the somewhat exaggerated picture
of a famous traveler,§§ Mount Hermon rears its venerable
head. From its snowy peaks the tourist overlooks the Holy
Land from Dan to Beersheba, and from the Mediterranean

* Matt, xvii., 20, 21.
t "And they departed thence, and passed through Galilee ; and he would
not that any man should know it. " — Mark ix. , 30.
X Mark vii. ,33. § Mark viii. , 22-26. || Mark vii. , 36 ; viii. , 26.
T Matt, xvi., 20 ; Mark viii., 30 ; Luke ix., 21.
** Mark vii., 36. Observe, too, how he goes from one district to another,
as if seeking for repose, but every where followed by crowds. — Matt, xv., 29,
30, 39-xvi., 1, 4 ; Mark viii., 22, 27.
tt John vii. , 2-5. XX Matt, xvi., 13. See map, p. 18.
§§ Van der Velde, quoted in Stanley's "Sinai and Palestine," p. 397.

A.D. 33.] MOUNT HERMON. 327
Sea to the hills of Bashan. The infant Jordan issues in a
triple rivulet from the mountain side as though the rock
which Moses struck in the wilderness had been miraculously
transplanted to Canaan to provide its sacred river. Its wid
ening valley justifies by its varied foliage, its grassy carpet,
and its waving wheat-fields the admiration of the Danites,
who, in the childhood years of Judea, chose it as their home.*
Here Philip the tetrarch had founded, in mutual honor of him
self and his patron, a city which bore their joint names, Ce
sarea Philippi — a city whose architectural magnificence is
quite as eloquently portrayed by the unexplored ruins which
constitute the site of the modern hamlet of Banias as by the
glowing pictures of Josephus. f Among these mountains
Christ found at last an opportunity, free from the interrup
tions of an active ministry, for quiet conference with his dis
ciples. For this period of retirement was also one of increasing dis
closure. A veil was over the hearts of Israel that they could
not see. Jesus had retreated from the multitude that he
might draw aside this veil, and afford his chosen friends a
clearer view of himself and his kingdom of suffering love than
other eyes were able to bear. He led them into these moun
tain solitudes as God called Moses into the cloud that envel
oped Sinai, not really for purposes of concealment, but of
revelation. This portion of his ministry therefore appears to be almost
wholly occupied with instructions concerning the constitu
tion and conduct of his Church. He declares that a living
faith in him as " the Christ, the Son of the living God," as it
is embodied in Peter's ardent repetition of the disciples' com
mon faith, is the rock foundation on which he will build his
* Judges, xviii., 9-10.
t Josephus, Antiquities, xv., 10, § 3 ; Wars of Jews, i., 21, § 3. For a
description of this region, see Pressense's Life of Christ, p. 396 ; Stanley's
Sinai and Palestine, chap. xii. ; and Robinson's Researches, iii., § xv., p. 339
and post.

328 EXILE. [Chap. XXIII,
infant Church, which now for the first time he so entitles ;*
indicates what must be the instrument of its future warfare
— the cross of Christ ; lays that cross upon all who desire to
enroll themselves among his followers ; promulgates the law
of forgiveness and of discipline — a law which he makes one,
but which the Church has too often dissevered; announces
that the unity of his Church rests in mutual forbearance, not
in domination and submission ; and to all his previous in
structions concerning prayer, adds, what is the more than
royal prerogative of his Church, the promise it too seldom
pleads : " If two of you shall agree on earth as touching any
thing that they shall ask, it shall be done for them of my
Father which is in heaven."f
By a significant act, he interprets to them the liberty of
the Gospel. When the tabernacle was first constructed in
the wilderness it was by voluntary offerings. Whosoever
is of a willing heart, let him bring an offering of the Lord,
was the divine commandment.! But Pharisaism had per
verted this free-will offering into a legal exaction. After a
long struggle between Pharisee and Sadducee, the former had
triumphed, and a poll-tax was laid upon all Israel of a half
shekel for the support of the Temple service. They quoted
the laws of Moses to sustain them in this exaction. § But to
enforce this as a tax was contrary to the free spirit of the
Gospel, if not to that of the Mosaic commonwealth. Jesus
had already declared himself openly against the Pharisaic ex
actions. Whether in this controversy he would side with
Sadducee or Pharisee was to the collector of this church tax
a matter of uncertainty. He came, therefore, in doubt to
Peter with the question, " Doth not your master pay trib
ute ?" Peter, still a Jew, readily pledged Jesus to fulfill the
* Matt, xvi., 13-20. Eor exposition of this confessedly difficult passage,
compare 1 Peter ii., 4-8.
t For these precepts and principles in detail, see Matt, xvi., 13-28 ; xviii.;
Mark viii., 27-38 ; ix., 31-50 ; Luke ix., 18-27, 43-50.
X It, an offering.— Exod. xxxv., 5. § Exod. xxx., 12, 13.

A.D. 33.] TRIBUTE. 329
obligations which no other Rabbi would refuse to recognize.
But Jesus, though quite ready to contribute to the support
of the appointed service even of a corrupted Church, was not
willing to sanction a custom so pernicious as that which rests
the Church of God on enforced tithes rather than on free con
tributions. " We are," he says in effect to Peter, " not stran
gers and aliens from the commonwealth of Israel, but sons of
the kingdom; and the kingdom must live by the free-will
gifts, not by the compulsory payments of its citizens. The
Church must be supported as it was built, by willing hearts."
But, that his heart be not thought unwilling, he bids his
disciple cast a line into the sea and draw forth a fish, in
whose mouth he should find the needed sum. Thus, by a
figure, Christ at once proclaims the emancipation of humani
ty from the thraldom of a Church establishment, and desig
nates as the true substitute therefor a free-will offering by a
cheerful giver.*
In these quiet hours of consultation with his disciples,
Christ prophesies, as we have said, in language more unmis
takable than ever before, his sufferings and death. At the
same time, he vouchsafes to their sight a clearer revelation
than can be afforded to the ear of that glory which he had
with the Father before the beginning of the world ; inter
prets to them the meaning of the enigma, " I have meat to
eat that ye know not of,"f and affords them a glimpse of that
strength which God's ministering spirits afforded to him —
afford, in truth, though in form invisible, to all who follow
Christ's footsteps.
The mountain solitudes afforded to Jesus his favorite re-
* Matt, xvii., 24-27. The older interpreters, supposing this to be a Roman
tax, misunderstood altogether the meaning of the incident. The more usual
modern interpretation reads in this incident only a new declaration by Christ
of his divine Sonship, which therefore exempts him from the obligations of
common men. (So Alford, Wordsworth, Trench, Eddy.) But Christ de
clares not merely that the son, but that the children are free, and claims ex
emption, not for himself only, but for his disciples. For fuller exposition of
this interpretation, see Smith's Bible Dictionary, art. Tribute, and Lange's
Life of Christ, vol. iii. , p. 353. t John iv. , 32.

330 EXILE. [Chap. XXIII.
treat. Nowhere does man seem so lifted above the vapors
and clouds of earth as on one of these peaks whose very air
partakes of the purity of heaven. At no time does he so
completely lose the sense of man and temporal things, and
seem to himself to be standing in the presence of God and
eternity, as when from a mountain rock he looks down upon
a sleeping world and up into the starry heavens. The habi
tations of the future seem then close at hand, the habitation
of the present far removed. Ascending as his wont one of
these mountain peaks for a night of solitude and prayer —
perhaps one of the spurs of Mount Hermon, more probably
one of the lower hills that skirt the Sea of Galilee, whither
it seems probable they had now returned,* Jesus bids Peter,
John, and James accompany him. The rest of the disciples
await his return at the foot of the mountain.
The sun is already low in the west, and twilight is already
gathering over the valley below, as these four friends ascend
that unknown hill. At their feet lies the sleeping Lake; of
Galilee. In the distance opens the vista of the Jordan val
ley. Perhaps over the intervening hills they can catch even
a glimpse of the blue waters of the Mediterranean, glistening
in the rays of the setting sun. Gradually darkness steals
over the scene; gradually the early lights of the cities of the
sea twinkle in the distance. Borne in the fishing-craft across
the quiet waters, they creep, like glow-worms, to and fro. A
solemn stillness, more solemn than the hush of any cathedral,
steals over the hearts of the disciples. A heavy sleep at
length overpowers them, and Jesus is left alone with his own
unutterable thoughts — alone with his heavenly Father—
alone to dwell upon the sorrows of an unrecognized and un
appreciated life, and the sterner sufferings of that approach
ing death whose horrors cast their shadow on his path from
the cradle to the grave.
* So Alford. Observe, too, the presence of the scribes and then- disputes
with the disciples (Mark ix., 14-17), more characteristic of the scene of
Christ's earlier labors than of the region of Cesarea Philippi.

A.D. 33.] TRANSFIGURATION. 331
How long the companions of his solitude sleep they know
not, nor do we. At length a strange sense of awe steals in
upon their dreams. They awake to see their Lord clad in
garments luminously white, yet outshone by the glory of his
radiant face; to see two visitants from the shadowy realm
of the past, in whose spirit-forms they recognize Moses, the
lawgiver of the commonwealth, and Elijah, representative of
the prophetic order ; to hear, in their conversation with him,
their recognition of his coming crucifixion even in the midst
of this his present glory; to hear a new witness of Jesus's di
vine character in the voice which speaks from the cloud that
receives this vision from their affrighted gaze, "This is my
beloved Son, hear ye him ;" to ponder with awe this intima
tion that these sacred voices of the past, which have spoken
God's will only in fragmentary and imperfect utterances, are
henceforth overshadowed by the more perfect revelation of
God's law and love in the person of his Son ;* and to crave
the privilege of abiding on this mountain top in such blessed
company, forgetful — rather still spiritually ignorant — of the
cup of suffering and baptism of blood which await both him
and them.f
In that later scene of midnight prayer, when, in the gar
den of Gethsemane, they sleep while the Master prays, and
rise, awakened by his voice, to see their prophet and king
betrayed as a common malefactor, does any thought of this
transfiguration recur to their self - reproachful consciences?
In gazing ourselves upon this transcendent vision, which still
only the few by faith truly perceive, while criticism abides at
the foot of the mount,! doubting the power of the unseen
* " In many portions and in divers manners, God, having spoken to the fa
thers in the prophets, at the end of these days spake unto us in his Son." —
Heb. i., 1, 2, Alford's transl. See his notes in hco for a striking contrast
between the former fragmentary revelations and that in Christ, wherein "God
himself, the pure hght, unites in one person the whole spectrum."
t Matt, xvii., 1-13 ; Mark ix., 2-13 ; Luke ix., 28-36.
X "And when he came to his disciples he saw a great multitude about
them, and the scribes questioning with them." — Mark ix., 14.

332 EXILE. [Chap. XXIII.
Messiah, we may well heed the rebuking voice of God, " Hear
ye him," nor seek to add, by our poor tabernacles of praise,
to his transfigured glory.
The time is drawing near when Jesus must be offered up.
He has instructed his disciples in the mystery hidden from
the foundation of the world. Only the crucifixion, with all
its actual agony of fear and anguish — fear on their part and
anguish upon his — can complete the instruction. Jesus passes
through the district of Galilee still concealed.* He gently
parries the taunts of his brethren at this manifest change in
his life, before so public, now so hidden.f Bidding them go
up to the Feast of the Tabernacles, he awaits their departure ;
nor is it till the highways are clear of pilgrims that he pre
pares to follow, still in secret.!
* Mark ix. , 30. t John vii. , 3-8. \ John vii. , 10.

Oct., A.D. 33.] FEAST OF THE TABERNACLES. 333

CHAPTER XXIV.
THE JUDEAN MINISTRY.*
tHE harvest work was over. The golden grain
had bowed before the sickle. The autumnal
grape had yielded up its juice, by its broken
body and the poured libation of its blood,
prophesying of that body and that blood which
in God's harvest is given for the life of the world. From a
thousand fields and vineyards the joyous Israelites, march
ing in companies and caravans over the intervening hills,
were assembling in their holy city to celebrate their au
tumnal feast. For Thanksgiving-day did not originate with
the Puritans. It was borrowed, whether consciously or not,
from the Hebraic commonwealth. To that commonwealth,
indeed, the world is indebted for many an idea for which un
due credit has been given to New England. Between this
feast of Puritanism and that of the Orient there was this
difference — one lasts but a day, the other consecrated a full
week to festivity and rejoicing.
The city had surrendered itself to the season. Autumn
seemed to have taken possession of it. The gates and mar
ket-places and the broader streets were filled with booths
built of branches brought from the groves. This new city
of the trees, surrounding the walls of Jerusalem, and making
gay with its festoons all the avenues leading up to the Tem
ple, passed even the holy gates. The court of the Gentiles
was filled with these huts of the wilderness, that the priests
and the Levites might share in the festivities of the joyous
encampment ; for during the Feast of the Tabernacles the
* John vu.-x. ; Luke x., 25-42; xviii., 9-14.

334 THE JUDEAN MINISTRY. [Chap. XXIV.
houses were bereft of occupants. No man suffered himself
to sleep beneath a roof. The heats of summer were over.
The rains of autumn and winter had not yet commenced.
Israel did, therefore, but play at encampment. Thus annu
ally the nation reminded itself of the hour when it dwelt in
the wilderness, and when even the Temple of God was but a
temporary tabernacle. Thus, too, the more pious and pro
phetic among them reminded themselves that they were but
pilgrims and strangers on the earth ; that the Holy City it
self was not their final resting-place ; that the Temple which
Solomon constructed, and Herod rebuilt, with its immovable
foundations, its massive masonry, its magnificent pillars, its
grand courts, was, after all, but a tabernacle in the wilder
ness ; and that Israel, though in Canaan, yet sought a better
country, a kingdom above, a city not made with hands.
Such was the Feast of Tabernacles. Its scenes of festivity
were so marked that Plutarch, who seemed incapable of in
terpreting Judaism save by the analogy of his own heathen
religion, declared that this people consecrated every year
seven days to a feast of Bacchus, god of wine.
Jerusalem was crowded. These great religious festivals
of Judea brought together not only the inhabitants of Pal
estine, but the children of God dispersed throughout all the
civilized world. Pilgrims came, bringing their sacrifices of
thanksgiving from as far west as Cyrene, on the Grecian
coast of the Mediterranean ; from as far east as the coast of
Media; from as far north as the shores of the Black Sea.*
Jerusalem was the religious centre of a circuit whose ra
dii extended nearly one thousand miles in every direction, in
an age when a pilgrimage of one hundred miles was equiva
lent to a modern journey of one thousand. These pilgrims
included not only the seed of Abraham, but converts to Ju
daism from heathen faiths, devout Gentiles wearied with the
polytheism of Greece and Rome, though not yet open adhe
rents of the faith of Israel, inquirers whose hearts were stir-
* See Acts iii, 9-11.

Oct., A.D. S3.] THE JUDEANS. 335
red by the noble utterances of the Hebrew poet-jireachers,
however repelled by the haughty exclusiveness and the pue
rile ceremonialism of their descendants. A singular congre-.
gation was this that gathered in the Temple, in which the
swarthy African, the sensual Persian, the cultivated Greek,
and the haughty inhabitant of Judea mingled for the hour
in a democracy of common worship.
The feast was already half over, and Jesus had not made
his appearance. The Galileans brought with them a report
of his strange works and stranger doctrines. They told,
doubtless, the story of the feeding of the multitude, of the
cure of the demoniac in the synagogue, pf the raising of
Jairus's daughter, of the healing of the centurion's servant,
perhaps of the quelling of the tempest, and the walk upon
the waves. We may reasonably assume that they had not
succeeded so well in their attempt to repeat the parables by
the sea-shore, the Sermon on the Mount, and the discourse in
Capernaum on the bread of life ; for, misunderstanding them
selves the meaning of Christ's preaching, how could they
convey it to others ?
These stories the residents of Judea had received with con
temptuous incredulity. Jerusalem was to Palestine in the
first century what Rome was to Europe in the Middle Ages,
the heart of its hierarchy. The few sincere Israelites who
dwelt beneath the shadow of its walls were not able to
neutralize the influence of the ecclesiasticism which centred
there. Proud of their national blood; tracing their ancestry
back to patriarchs who lived long before their national or
ganization ; glorying, not in the purity of their lives, but in
that of their descent ; not in their intellectual and moraj
worth, but in this, that theirs was the Holy City ; theirs the
sacred Temple ; theirs the inspired Scriptures ; theirs the or
dained priesthood and the holy prophets, the Judeans were
the ecclesiastical autocrats of the first century; and there is
no aristocracy more haughty and bigoted than ecclesiastics.
Not all Christ's miracles of mercy could compensate for his
15

336 THE JUDEAN MINISTRY. [Chap. XXIV.
open and undisguised contempt of their religion of fruitless
ceremonialism. The stronger his hold upon the common
people, the more these priests and Rabbis of a no longer liv
ing Judaism despised yet feared him. He had not been to
Jerusalem for more than a year. He had suffered the festi
vals of the Church to pass by unobserved. He had confined
his ministry to a province which, however important, was to
these churchly autocrats altogether contemptible. They re
peated, therefore, to his friends the taunts which Jesus's
brethren had employed against him. While the common
people, who had flocked from Galilee, and Perea, and the ru
ral districts of Judea, and even the outlying regions of Tyre
and Sidon, to hear Jesus, discussed eagerly, yet in under
tones,* Christ's character and works, the Judeans contemptu
ously asked, " Where is the fellow ? Why does he not show
himself?"! So the first days of the feast passed away. In the festivi
ties of the hour the Galilean Rabbi had been perhaps forgot
ten, when, suddenly and unexpectedly, he appeared in the
Temple, publicly teaching. The city was thrown into a fer
ment by his appearance. The parties already formed in Gal
ilee reappeared in Jerusalem. Many of the people were pre
pared to receive him with ardent enthusiasm. That he was
a Galilean was no objection, certainly, to the Galileans. That
he preached a universal kingdom aroused no prejudice in the
hearts of the hundreds of proselytes that thronged the nar
row streets of Jerusalem. The Gentile pilgrims remembered
with gratitude the Rabbi who had cleared their outer court
of the traffickers who excluded them and disgraced the Tem
ple. To many of the people he was a prophet. To some the
very Messiah.! " When Christ cometh," said they, " will he
do more miracles than this man hath done ?"§ Among these
strangers in Jerusalem, many, therefore, crowded about Jesus
* John vii., 13.
t John vii., 11. Their question itself (iKiivoe) shows a hostile spirit.— Al
ford in loco. X John vii., 40, 41. § John vii., 31.

Oct., A.D. 33.] EXPERIENCES IN JUDEA. 337
as they had done in Galilee, and were ready to offer again in
Judea the crown he had refused on the shores of Lake Ti
berias. The Judeahs, on the other hand, looked with feelings of
commingled anger and contempt upon this proposer of a new
religion. They who had scornfully asked why Jesus did not
come to Jerusalem to preach his Gospel of repentance were
indignant at what seemed to them his audacity when he did.
He preached, not to admiring auditors, as in Galilee, but to an
excited and tumultuous mob. He was constantly interrupted
by the jibes and jeers of the crowd. His miracles, of which
he wrought but few,* produced as little permanent impression
upon the residents of the city as his words. He made few
permanent converts, and had no open and confessed follow
ers. Attempts were repeatedly made to foment public preju
dice against him.f Plans for bis assassination were secretly
formed.! Twice in three months he was mobbed.§ Once an
order for his arrest was issued, but left unexecuted. || His dis
ciples dared not accompany him. Only one has preserved
any report of his teachings. Jesus seems not to have spent
a single night within the city walls. T And his ministry in
Judea, which lasted, with interruptions, from the Feast of the
Tabernacles in October to the Feast of Dedication in De
cember, was chiefly valuable as a witness against the city
which, by its rejection of its Lord, has forever deprived itself
of all right to the title of the Holy City.
Of the subjects of Christ's Temple teaching during this
eventful week of the feast we know but little. The merest
fragments of it have been preserved to us. But there is
enough to indicate its character. The Judeans, though blind-
* The cure of the blind man (John ix.) is the only one of which any de
tailed account is given ; but it must be remembered that John alone gives
us any account of Jesus's ministry in Judea, and John never recounts a mir
acle except as it illustrates some spiritual truth, or introduces us to some spir
itual discourse. t John vii., 15, 20, 27, 41, 52 ; viii., 48.
X John vii., 19, 25 ; viii., 37. § John viii., 51 ; x., 31.
|| John vii., 32, 45. 1 John viii., 1.

338 THE JUDEAN MINISTRY. [Chap. XXIV.
ed by prejudice, were familiar with the holy Scriptures. They
were able to comprehend, if they chose to do so, the mysteries
of the kingdom of God. Christ therefore spoke to them
thereof with a plainness which never characterized his public
preaching to the humbler peasant population of Galilee. He
set forth clearly his divine origin.* He declared in no para
ble his approaching death.f He proclaimed himself, what his
Church has ever believed him to be, the only-begotten Son
of the Father,! the manifestation to humanity of the invisible
Jehovah.§ And he availed himself of the symbolic services
of the Temple to indicate more clearly his character and his
commission. On each day of the feast the high-priest brought water for
the Temple service from the Pool of Siloam, and poured it
out upon the altar. The people accompanied this priestly
service, marching to the music of the trumpet, waving their
palm branches, and chanting in grand processional choral
from one of their ancient prophets : " With joy shall ye draw
water out of the wells of salvation. "|| Thus they reminded
themselves of the day when, at the word of Moses, living
waters gushed from the rock in the wilderness, and revived
their hope of the promised hour when the Spirit of God
should be poured out as water, and their sons and their
daughters should prophesy, and their old men dream dreams,
and their young men see visions. '¦¦¦f " Whoever," say the Rab
bis, "has not seen the rejoicing in the drawing of this water,
hath seen no rejoicing at all." And as the dusk of the seventh
evening began to indicate that the religious' ceremonies of
the week were drawing to their- close, all Israel crowded into
the court of the women ; the great Temple choir made its
arches echo with their magnificent chorals ; religious dances
accompanied these sacred songs ; and a brilliant illumination
cast its light from the Temple windows over the entire city.
Jesus, reminding the people of these well-recognized feat-
* John vii., 29, 30. t John vii., 34, 35. X John viii., 18, 19.
§ John viii., 20. || Isa. xii., 3. f Joel ii., 28, 29.

Oct., A.D. 33.] LA Y PREA CHING. 339
ures of their festival, declared that the hour to which these
Symbolic services pointed had already come. "If any man
thirst," said he, " let him come unto me and drink." " He that
believeth on me, out of his belly shall flow rivers of living
water."* Jesus is himself the Rock of Ages. Every true
follower of Jesus becomes in turn a spring in the wilderness,
and by the cheeriness of his presence refreshes many weary
souls. " I am the light of the world," again he said : " he that
followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the
light of life."f Jesus, more than the pillar of cloud and fire
that leads Israel only, brighter than the Shekinah which filled
the Jewish Temple only, is the light of the whole world, and
from his sacred hill his beams go forth a light unto all na
tions. These sacred instructions, as we have said, were delivered
despite perpetual interruptions. Christ's teaching was not
that of a sermon, but that of a dialogue ; not with honest in
quirers or perplexed skeptics, but with bigoted, resolute foes.
' The Judeans denied his right to preach at all. He was not
in the ministerial succession ; he had never been ordained.
Any one might, indeed, repeat the lessons of regularly-recog
nized Jewish scribes ; but a rule, analogous to that which still
prevails in most Church communions, forbade any Rabbi to
teach new truths except he was a regular graduate of one of
the theological schools. He might catechize, but he could
not preach. This rule the Jews cited against Jesus. "How,"
said they, contemptuously, " does this man know any thing
of sacred literature, being no graduate ?" Jesus, in reply, de
fended the right of lay preaching, while he pointed out the
only true source of all ministerial authority. " My doctrine,"
said he, " is not mine, but his that sent me." He that is or
dained by the Spirit of God has all the ordination which Je
sus had. He who has not received the baptism of the Spirit
is not in orders, whatever bishop may have laid hands upon
him.! * John vii., 37, 38. t John viii., 12. X John vii., 15-18.

340 THE JUDEAN MINISTRY. [Chap. XXIV.
As little inclined to welcome any contribution to the com
mon weal of humanity, if proffered by any one without their
favored circle, as the genuine Chinaman is to receive any civ
ilization that has originated beyond the bounds of his Celes
tial Empire, the Judeans derided the idea of a Galilean proph
et. "When Christ cometh," said they, "no man will know
whence he is ; but the plebeian birth of this son of the Gali
lean carpenter we all know." Jesus, replying, calmly assert
ed his divine origin, and declared that they neither knew him,
nor, despite their claim to be the children of God, did they
know his Father, whence he proceeded, and by whom he was
sent.* The popular enthusiasm among the pilgrim strangers was
too strong to be disregarded ; but the Judeans attempted to
turn it against Jesus by reviving the charge of Sabbath-break
ing. In the very act of healing a poor cripple he had violate
ed the Rabbinical precept, " Let no one console the sick or
visit the mourning on the Sabbath day." Jesus replied by
setting against the Rabbinical precept the precept of the
Scriptures and the practice of the priesthood. The Judeans
circumcised without scruple on the Sabbath, that the cere
monial law of Moses might not be violated ; how, then, could
they find fault with him, who had made the impotent man
every whit whole, that the greater law of mercy might be
maintained ?f
Defeated and humiliated, Jesus's foes resorted to the com
mon appeal of moral weakness — brute force. They demand
ed indignantly that the authorities should prevent this pesti
lential heresy by arresting the prophet who preached it.!
But when, complying with the demand, the Sanhedrim sent
the police of the Temple to arrest him, there was something
in his air and manner which deterred them. The divinely-in
spired courage which sustained Luther in the Diet of Worms,
in a larger measure abiding in Christ, was his sufficient safe-
conduct in Jerusalem, and they returned with no other ex-
* John vii., 27, 30. t John vii., 21-24. | John vii., 27-32.

Oct., A.D. 33.] CHRIST QUESTIONED. 341
cuse for their failure to carry out the orders of their superi
ors than " Never man spake as this man."*
So flagrant, indeed, was the proposed illegality of the chief
priests and rulers, the leaders of the Judean party, that it
even evoked a protest from one of their own number. Nico
demus, professing no friendship for Jesus, demanded that the
forms of law should not be disregarded in his condemnation.
"Doth our law," said he, "judge any man before it hear him,
and learn what he doeth ?" But these followers of Moses,
who could quote his law when it served their purpose, and
disregard it when it did not, silenced this demand for legal
proceedings by one of those appeals to partisan spirit as ef
fective in the nineteenth century as in the first. " Art thou
also," they replied, " of Galilee? for out of Galilee ariseth no
prophet. "f They were wrong. Jonah was a Galilean ; per
haps Amos also. Prejudice blinded them to their own his
tory. Thus baffled, the Judeans resorted to a stratagem to arouse
the prejudices of the populace, whom they professed to de
spise, but whom they dared not disregard. To this attempt
we are indebted for an incident which the pen of the poet
and the pencil of the painter will never weary of portraying.
The law of Moses provided the penalty of death for the
crime of adultery.! In that early age, and in a polygamous
community, severe penalties were needed to keep sacred the
marriage bond. No less were they needed to prevent that
private revenge which our laxer code of modern morals winks
at ; for the husband whose honor is not protected by the law
will be sure to avenge his dishonor by his own hand. This
provision of the Mosaic code had, however, long since become
obsolete. There is, indeed, no authentic case in Jewish his
tory of an execution occurring under it. This forgotten stat
ute of the past the Jewish Rabbis now revived, not for the
purpose of securing purity in society, but for the purpose of
confounding and silencing Jesus.
?John vii., 32, 45-49. t John vii., 50-52. i Levit. xx., 10.

342 THE JUDEAN MINISTRY. [Chap. XXIV.
A woman in the very act of adultery was seized by some
members of the priestly party. Her guilty paramour was
permitted to escape, for then, as now, the penalties of unchas-
tity were practically visited only upon the less guilty sex ;
and while the glad services of the feast were going on, up
the Temple steps, through the great gate, into the outer court
of the Gentiles, where worshipers, with palm branches in
their hands and songs of rejoicing in their hearts, were going
to and fro, a tumultuous crowd, whose base passions were un
mistakably written in their exulting faces, came, dragging
after them this woman, whose heart beat with terror, and
whose face, mantled with red, she vainly sought to hide in
her disheveled garments. Forced through the crowd that
were listening to Jesus's words, and cast contemptuously at
his feet, she crouched in shame and terror there, while the
priests eagerly demanded of the Galilean Rabbi his solution
of the problem.
"Master, this woman was taken in adultery— in the very
act. Now Moses, in the law, commanded us that such should
be stoned ; but what sayest thou ?"
The problem was a perplexing one. Should he decline to
adjudge the case — he, King of Israel — he who, among the
Galilean mountains, had put his precepts above those of Mo
ses in the words " But I say unto you." Should he release
her — he who had indignantly denied the charge already
brought against him of seeking to overturn the statutes of
the ancient commonwealth ; who had declared that not one
jot or tittle should pass away unfulfilled, and that whosoev
er relaxed its least precept should be least in the kingdom he
had come to establish ? Should he then adjudge her guilty,
revive this long-since-forgotten law, and give assent to its
enforcement — he who had received among his disciples the
publican and the harlot ; who had suffered unrebuked the
homage of a woman of the town ; who had come, not to de
stroy men's lives, but to save them — could he thus belie him
self? Indignant at the base duplicity which could intrude

THE FH1ENIJ OP SINNERS

Oct., A,D. 33.] THE PRIESTS CONDEMNED. 345
such a scene as this upon the Temple service, Jesus disre
garded the clamor of the crowd, and, stooping, wrote upon
the ground as one preoccupied with his thoughts. Then lift
ing himself up, in a single sentence of bitter irony that seem
ed to condemn the accused, he pronounced judgment against
her self-constituted accusers : " He that is without sin among
you, let him first cast a stone at her."
Unchastity was a universal vice in the first century. Pal
estine had borrowed from the Gentile world this sin, if it had
learned no other. What must be the purity of that society
in which the Church awarded to every man a divorce when
he wearied of his wife, and the king openly trampled under
foot the laws of God and the decencies of life with impunity
as Herod Antipas had done, let the imagination conceive.
Nowhere did this vice so run rampant as among the priests.
Epicureans in philosophy and voluptuaries in practice, their
licentiousness was no secret to the common people ; and this
sharp, decisive sentence, whose significance has puzzled some
modern commentators, was instantly apprehended by the
multitude. Stung by his words, whose severity was intensi
fied by the fire that flashed for the moment from his upraised
eyes, these elders of the people* slunk away from the shame
of Christ's open and scornful condemnation. The woman
was left alone to lift her trembling, tearful face in thankful
ness, but in no self-exultation, to the Rabbi who had preserv
ed her life. To her priestly accusers he had spoken in words
of fire ; to her he uttered only words of mercy : " Neither do
I condemn thee. Go, and sin no more."f
Thus passed the week of thanksgiving in the Temple. By
day Jesus taught in the outer courts, in the midst of an ex
cited and sometimes angry crowd. By night he pillowed
his head under the trees that give to the Mount of Olives its
name,! or. sought retirement in the friendly house of Martha
* John viii., 9. Beginning at the eldest — Greek wpmfivrkpttiv, almost uni
versally translated elders ; generally as an official designation in connection
with the word rulers. t John viii., 2-11. X John viii. , 1 .

346 THE JUDEAN MINISTRY. [Chap. XXIV.
and Mary, in the suburban village of Bethany. Here, at
least, he found warm welcome, and here he loved to come
for rest, not work. Wearied with the day of preaching, in
the midst of perpetual contradictions, to a people who pur
posely misconstrued every word, he found in the disciple
who loved to sit quiet at his feet and drink in his instruc
tion far sweeter refreshment than in the supper which her
sister, with equal devotion, but less spiritual sympathy,
would fain provide for him.
Whoever has attempted to discourse of higher truths to
unappreciative audiences, or has faced a storm of angry and
bigoted prejudice, can appreciate the sweetness of that rest
"which, after such a scene, was afforded by the presence and
the audience of one sympathetic and congenial soul.*
At length the feast drew to its close. The tabernacles
were taken down. The citizens returned- to their houses
and resumed their customary avocations. The city doffed
its holiday garments, and put on once more its business at
tire. The pilgrim strangers dispersed to their several homes,
but the Galilean Rabbi did not retrace his steps to Galilee.
Wherever his work called him he found his home ; and the
dispersion of the foreign element, if it removed a protection
personal to himself, also removed all danger of partisan vio
lence between Judean and Galilean. Christ therefore re
mained in the Holy City — remained to speak yet more dis
tinctly and emphatically the truths of his -kingdom in the
face of an increasing hostility that finally culminated in a
serious mob.
The Jews taunted him with the lowliness of his birth. He
unequivocally denied that he was of earthly parentage. "Ye
are from beneath," said he ; " I am from above." They af
fected to misunderstand his declaration, " Whither I go ye
can not come." " Will he go unto the dispersed among the
Gentiles ?" said they, sneeringly, " or will he take his life with
his own hands ?" In language which no Jew could fail to
* Luke x., 38-42.

A.D. 33.] A MOB. 347
understand, he replied to their sneers by prophesying his
crucifixion. They boasted of the purity of their blood, and
travestied the mystery of his incarnation by an imputation
which even they dared not frame openly into words. " We,"
said they, scornfully, " are not born of fornication." Jesus
denied that they were the true seed of Abraham, still, less
were they the children of God. Their deeds attested their
¦true — that is, their spiritual parentage. They were the chil
dren of the devil. His promise of immortality to all that
believed in him they sneeringly met with the question," Art
'thou greater than our father Abraham ?" Jesus replied un
equivocally that he was ; and in very simple words, which
the Jews certainly could not misunderstand, he applied to
¦himself the title which Jehovah had assumed at the burning
bush. " I am that I am," said God. " Before Abraham was,
I am," said Jesus.
The greatest benefactors of their race come out of the dark
ness and disappear in darkness again. God. only lives in a
perpetual present. Other lights rise and set. This sun nor
waxes nor wanes. " Abraham became, Christ is."
That the Jews thus understood Jesus is evident by their
action. These discussions had lasted perhaps several days.
There is nothing to indicate how long. The cup of their
gradually accumulated wrath was now filled. The cry of
blasphemy was instantly and angrily raised. Workmen were
busy repairing -the outer buildings of the Temple. The stones
which they employed were close at hand. The people seized
these instruments of the most common Jewish punishment —
stoning. But, before they could lay hold on Jesus, he escaped
within the Temple, passed through some of its numerous gates
in another direction, and made good his escape.*
Driven from Jerusalem, Jesus continued his ministry in the
rural districts of Judea. Walking in quietness, almost in
secrecy, the feet of Jesus have left no prints by which history
can trace his course. From the imperfect records of these
?.John viii., 12-59.

348 THE JUDEAN MINISTRY. [Chap. XXIV.
few weeks of his Judean life we gather some fragments only
of his teaching.
In the parable of the good Samaritan he exemplifies the
meaning of his golden rule, Do unto others as you would
have others do unto you, and rebukes that kind of religion
which manifests itself in great devotion to the Church and
great indifference to humanity. By selecting the Samaritan
as a type of moral goodness, he teaches the lesson, so hard to
be learned, of the brotherhood of man. By attributing to
this despised Samaritan this simple and unostentatious act
of sincere charity, he depicts the ideal of love as one that can
disregard alike natural, religious, and personal prejudices.
By the simple story which he employs, he portrays the essen
tial characteristics of true benevolence, which always springs
from compassion, and serves with equal readiness by gifts of
money and by consecration of personal service. And by se
lecting the priest and Levite as types of the opposite spirit
of indifference to the claims of philanthropy, he throws new
light upon the meaning of the prophet's declaration, " I will
have mercy and not sacrifice," and offers a sharp rebuke to
that spirit of ecclesiasticism which, now as then, is often too
busy about the services of the Temple and the errands of the
Church to give thought and care to suffering humanity.*
Every man who, on his way to the services of the sanctu
ary, passes indifferently and unconcernedly the abodes of
wretchedness, ignorance, and crime, repeats the experience
of this priest and Levite. Every man who, moved by a gen
uine compassion, turns aside from his ordinary avocations at
some self-sacrifice to lift up the down-trodden and restore the
fainting and the suffering, whatever may be his creed or his
nation, repeats the experience of the good Samaritan. This
drama is thus perpetually repeated; and in the nineteenth
century as in the first, the orthodoxy of a noble life is better
than that of mere creeds and churchly tradition.
In the great Jewish feast that brought together the out-
* Luke jf., 25-37.

A.D. 33.] A PASTORAL. 349
casts of Judea and the haughty members of the Maccabean
party, Jesus probably found both the characters in the sim
ple parable of the Pharisee and the publican.* What he had
taught the Galileans in the hour when he welcomed the peni
tential tears of the woman that was a sinner in the house of
Simon, he repeats to the Judeans by this story borrowed from
actual life. Humility is the key to the heart of God. The
corrupt politician and apostate Jew, become camp-follower
of a heathen court, in the hour when he is conscious of his
sins, and, forsaking, implores mercy for them, draws nearer
to the universal Father than the complacent churchman who
employs the language of humility to cover a heart of pride,
and who, under pretense of acknowledging the divine grace,
boasts himself of the purity of his morals and the punctilious
observance of his religious duties. The former has nothing
to commend him but his sense of sin. The other possesses
the three qualities which popular opinion still accepts as the
criteria of character — a moral life, a rigorous regard to relig
ious observances, and a liberal support of religious institu
tions. But in the eye of God the cry of the penitent is sweet
er than the thanksgiving of the poor but proud.
The hills of Judea abound with pasturage. From the days
when David watched his father's flock near Bethlehem till
now, these grass-clad rocks have furnished sweet herbage for
feeding flocks of sheep. The shepherd, leading them through
a fenceless country, has need to keep sharp watch ; and when,
attracted by the corn-fields on either side, a sheep wanders
off for richer pasturage, he soon pays the penalty of his error
with his life ; for the limestone hills are full of caves, and if
he escape the prowling wolf, he falls a prey to the dishonest
Bedouin. These flocks, then as now, afforded to the wander
ing children of the desert a rare prize. And the shepherd,
not always as successful as David, defends his helpless flock
sometimes by his death. This life of the herdsman furnishes
Jesus with a text for a beautiful pastoral of Christian expe*-
* Luke xviii., 9-14.

350 THE JUDEAN MINISTRY. [Chap. XXIV.
rience. He is the true shepherd. However indifferent the
Jews may be to his word, his own sheep hear and know his
voice. They follow him. They feed from his hand. Assailed
by crafty and dangerous foes, he saves them by the sacrifice
of his own life. This fold is not comprised within the narrow
bounds of any race or any church, but whosoever accepts his
voice and follows his lead is recognized as of his flock, whom
he shall bring at last to the fields of everlasting green, and
the pure waters of the River of Life.*
If in this Judean ministry Jesus wrought fewer miracles
than in Galilee, they were no less significant. The story of
but one is recorded by the evangelist — the cure in the streets
of Jerusalem of a beggar, blind from his birth. The case is
chiefly remarkable from the subsequent investigation to
Which it led. It seems almost to satisfy the demands of
modern skepticism. The people brought the subject of the
case to the Supreme Court. The case was judicially investi
gated. The blind man's identity was established by his own
testimony, and corroborated by that of his parents. That he
was born blind was established by the same indisputable evi
dence. The value of this evidence is enhanced by the fact
that his parents were reluctant witnesses, and that the man
himself had so little interest to further the cause of Christ
that he did not even so much as know who he was; and,
finally, so clear was the case, that after the utmost endeavor
to browbeat the witness, the court resorted to the sorry ex
pedient of excommunicating him, that they might thus cast
discredit on his story.f
So passed away three months of almost absolutely unre
corded work.
The month of December, with its leafless trees, its brown
hill-sides, and its continuous rains, brings with it the Feast
of Dedication. Instituted by the Maccabean dynasty, a na
tional rather than a Church festival, observed only by the
Judeans, chiefly by the Maccabean party, it brought together
* John x., 1-18. tJohnix.

Dec, A.D. 33.] FEAST OF DEDICATION. 351
the haughtiest of the Jewish autocrats, and the more narrow-
minded and bigoted of the Jewish people. In this feast there
was nothing to attract Jesus save the opportunity once more
to speak to the heart of Judaism.
That opportunity Jesus embraced. But a single sermon
was all that the impatience of the Jews would suffer to fall
from his lips.*
No sooner had he made his appearance in the Temple than
a threatening crowd surrounded him. They demanded that
he make instant and plain declaration of his mission. "If
thou be the Christ," they cried, " tell us plainly." Jesus at
once complied. In language which the historian must inter
pret as the hearers did, however theological controversy may
Seek to clothe it with peculiar meaning, he replied, " I and
my Father are one." In these words he confirmed the im
pression produced by his previous declarations. He aroused
the same enraged hostility. Unchecked by fears of a foreign
populace, a fiercer onset than before was made upon him.
They had demanded that he speak plainly. They mobbed
him when he did. With that same majestic mien that had
already carried him through two similar scenes, he quelled
the populace for the moment. He cited against them their
own Hebraic Scriptures. He repeated, in language stronger,
if that were possible, than before, his mystical union with his
Father. Then he bid adieu to the city which so strangely
belied its name — Inheritance of Peace. His Judean ministry
was at an end. Nor will he return to Jerusalem again until
he returns to fulfill the prophecy of his pastoral, and on the
mount where a lamb slain saved the life of Abraham's only
son, lay down his own life for the life of his sheep.
* See John x., 22-39, for this sermon and its reception.

352 PARABLES IN PEREA. [Chap. XXV.

CHAPTER XXV.
PARABLES IN PEREA.*
AST of the River Jordan lies a wild and romantic
region, which is, to the present day, a terra incog^
nita. Its mountains, walling out the Eastern des
erts, afford a fitting retreat for plundering tribes
of Arabs. Few of the hosts of travelers who an
nually visit the Holy Land are venturesome enough to invade
its territory. Even those whose erudite works are the stand
ards of scholars leave us in ignorance of that portion of the
ancient domain of Israel. Many of them seem even to imag
ine that the Jordan valley constituted its eastern boundary.
Even such writers as Stanley, Robinson, and Ritter give lit
tle or no account of this district, concerning which little is
known except such scanty information as can be gathered
from a few papers, and reports of one or two travelers more
adventurous than their fellows.
This unknown region went, in the time of Christ, under the
general name of Perea. The word is of Greek origin, and
signifies Beyond. It was used by the Western populace to
describe the country beyond the Jordan. It included the
districts known in earlier times as Bashan and Gilead. A
plateau whose level plains are elevated two or three hundred
feet above the level of the sea, it appears to possess a still
greater elevation by reason of its western border, the Jordan
valley, whicli is sunk one thousand feet below that level. In
the south a land " tossed into wild confusion of undulating
plains,"f in the north its hills rise into mountains that merge
* Matt. xix. ; xx., 1-16 ; Mark x., 1-31 ; Luke ix., 51-82 ; x., 1-24;
xiii., 22-35 ; xiv.-xvii. ; xviii., 15-30. f Stanley, Sinai and Pal., p. 320.

A.D. 33-34.] CHARACTERISTICS OF THE DISTRICT. 353
at length in the range of Lebanon and anti - Lebanon. Its
mountain streams and springs are never wholly dry ; forests
of oak cap its hill-tops ; grassy downs afford on its plains ad
mirable pasturage. Now, as in ancient times, it is character^
istically " a place for cattle." The high hills of Bashan, the
oaks of Bashan, the strong bulls of Bashan, have been made
ever-memorable by the sayings of the poet-king.
A wild and rugged region, its history partakes of its geo
graphical character. Among the hills of Gilead, Jephthah
gathered the children of Israel for his successful campaign
against his southern neighbors, the children of Ammon; here
David sought a refuge from the brief rebellion of his son ;
here the sons of Saul found a home after their father's death,
From Gilead came the ascetic prophet of Judah' s degenerate -
days, Elijah, the Bedouin wanderer, bold, active, circumspect,
partaking of the very character of the scenery in the midst
of which he was reared ; and here John the Baptist, in spirit
Elijah risen from the dead, prepared for his brief but signifir
cant ministry.* .
Little as is known of this district, there is enough to indi
cate that at the time of Christ it was fertile and populous.
This region, which now only the boldest traveler dare ven
ture into, was traversed by Roman roads, which aided to
make it a favorite route for pilgrims from Galilee to Jerusa
lem. Where now are only to be seen the nomadic cities of
the Bedouin Arabs, formerly ten flourishing cities, built by
Roman hands, afforded permanent homes to an industrious
population. These now deserted hills were dotted with a
hundred villages ; these now desolate but once grassy downs
were covered with herds and flocks, f
Into this region Christ now entered. He had preached his
* For a farther account of these incidents in the history of Perea, some of
which indicate its character, see Numb, xxxv, 1 ; Judges xi., 29 ; 2 Sam.
ii., 8 ; xvii., 22 ; 1 Kings xvii., 1 ; Luke i., 80.
t The cities of Perea gave to its southern portion tbe name of Decapolis,
and it is said that the Jordan alone contains the ruins of one hundred and
twenty-seven villages. — Smith's Bible Diet., art. Bashan. :

354 PARABLES IN PEREA. [Chap. XXV.
Gospel in Galilee, and it had been rejected ; he had proclaim
ed it in Jerusalem, and he' had been driven by violence from
the city. It remained to proffer it to the scattered Israelites
dispersed throughout Perea. Intermixed with a heathen pop
ulation, descendants many of them of the lost tribes, tracing
their genealogy back with difficulty to the period of the res
toration, living in intimate contact with the Gentile inhabit'
ants of the Roman cities, the obscure Jews of Perea, no less
than the provincial Jews of Galilee, were looked down upon
with undisguised contempt by the haughty inhabitants of
Jerusalem. But they were Israelites and dwellers in the land of Israel,
and Christ's mission would not be ended until he had preached
the Gospel of his kingdom throughout the entire Holy Land.
Little, we have said, is known of this country or its histo
ry. A similar obscurity envelops the ministry of Jesus there.
Nearly all our information concerning it is derived from one
evangelist — Luke. Some scattered fragments are added by
Matthew and Mark. Not one of them attempts to follow Je
sus in his tours from city to city, or to trace the development
of his doctrine, or its effect upon the people. It is, indeed,
rather a matter of rational conjecture than -of positive and
definite information that he spent these winter months in the
district of Perea at all. It would be idle, therefore, in the en
tire absence of any reliable information, to endeavor to trace
his ministry in its chronological order. All such attempts
necessarily substitute surmise for reliable information. We
only know that it was an itinerant one, and that he journey
ed frpm as far north as the Sea of Tiberias to the Ford of
Bethabara.* Without, therefore, attempting to trace in de
tail his course, we shall simply gather up the records of the
evangelists, and present, in a few brief paragraphs, the prin
cipal results of the two or three months' work on which the
Savior now entered.
* Compare Luke ix., 51 ; xiii., 22; xvii., 11 ; and Alford in loco, Matt.
xix., 1 ; Mark x., 1. This period is confessedly the most difficult in the

A.D. 33-34.] THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD. 355
In Perea he preaches the same glad tidings of great joy,
though in new forms, which he has already preached in the
cities by the sea and in the Temple at Jerusalem. He en
forces it by like miracles of mercy, though in diminished num
bers.* He employs in this ministry the same instruments —
parables. Nowhere does he set forth more clearly the pre
cepts of a pure morality ; nowhere in forms more sublime the
love of God, and the gospel of grace which flows from it ;
nowhere more powerfully the true values of life; nowhere —
unless it be in the closing days of his Judean ministry — more
forcibly the solemn sanctions of the future.
The old objection is brought against him that he attracts
only publicans and sinners by his ministry. He replies by
setting forth the medicinal love of God in forms that are un
surpassed even in his own incomparable teaching. No sin
gle story suffices to illustrate that love. He combines three.
In two of these he exhibits the act of God in going after the
sinner ; in the third he portrays the sinner coming back to
God. A shepherd has missed a sheep. He leaves the ninety-
nine in the fold to go in the wilderness in pursuit of the one
that is wandering. A housewife has lost a piece of money.
She leaves the nine pieces that are safe that she may search
for the tenth. There is an avarice of love, that is not content
with its possessions so long as any thing remains to be re
claimed. God, in Christ, goes after the wanderer ; searches
in the dark places of the earth for those who bear, like the
chronology of Christ's life. On the whole, the most reasonable hypothesis
seems to be that the synoptists omitted all account of the Judean ministry,
which John alone records ; that after Christ's second expulsion from Jerusa
lem Jesus went into Perea, and, journeying through the borders of Perea, Sa
maria, and Galilee, came again to Bethabara, where the synoptists resume
their narrative. The reasons which have led me to adopt this conclusion can
not be stated without a chronological discussion too long for such a note as
this. According to this explanation, John vii.-x., and a considerable portion
of Luke x.-xviii., with some other fragments of chapters, narrate incidents
and teachings which occurred between Matt, xviii., 35, and xix., 1.
* Luke xiii., 11-17; xiv., 1-6; xvii.,ri-19.

356 PARABLES IN PEREA. [Chap. XXV.
coin, the image of their Maker stamped upon them ; and when
he has found and reclaimed the lost, his heart thrills with a
new pleasure. He himself rejoices with joy unspeakable in
every new satisfaction of his love.
Yet more strikingly does Jesus epitomize his Gospel in that
parable which has been well called "the crown and pearl of
all his parables."* In a story as simple as it is sublime — a
story which the world is never tired of repeating — Jesus both
portrays the experience of the soul, and unlocks the heart of
God, that he may disclose the treasures of his divine love.
The key with whieh he does this is the one word Father.
A wayward son, impatient of paternal restraint, demands
of his father his future inheritance. This unreasonable de
mand is complied with. The boy departs from his home. He
spends his substance in a reckless and dissipated life. For a
time all goes well with him ; but by-and-by a famine arises
in the land. His money is spent ; his friends disappear with
it ; he begins to be in want ; he resolves, by his independ
ent exertions, to retrieve his fallen fortunes ; at least he will
not return to his father a beggar. The result is only deeper
degradation. He becomes a swineherd ; he craves even the
carob pods that the swine eat. In all this experience he has
not, however, utterly forgotten his early home and his father's
love. These reminiscences now come back to him like a gos
pel from a distant land. He has not wholly eradicated the
better nature which his father's blood supplies. This re-as
serts itself. He comes to himself; he resolves to arise, and
return to his father; he will make no excuses for the past;
he will frankly confess his fault, " Father, I have sinned ;" he
will solemnly consecrate his future, "Make me as one of thy
hired servants." It must be confessed that the motive which
actuates him is not of the highest. It is simply his want :
" How many hired servants of my father have bread enough
and to spare, and I perish with hunger !" But he puts his
resolution into execution. A long and weary journey is it to
* Stier's Words of Jesus, vol. iii., p. 227, quoted in Alford on Luke xv., 11.

A.D. 33-34.] THE PRODIGAL SON. 357
his home. As he draws near the consummation of his pur
pose his heart fails him; he lingers afar off. Oh feeble faith,
shamed by the warm welcome which awaits him. Beneath
his beggarly disguise the father's keen love discerns his child.
His heart is stirred with a deep compassion ; he runs forth to
meet him ; falls upon his neck ; bestows on him the kiss of
love ; asks no questions ; imposes no probation ; buries the
past ; stays not even to hear the request, " Make me as one
of thy hired servants ;" receives him as a son ; strips off his
rags ; orders the best robe ; the ring, symbol of authority ;
the shoes, symbol of the freeman ; and in a feast utters his
own joy, and effaces from the heart of his forgiven son all re
membrances of his sorrow.*
That son is a sinful world ; that father is its loving God ;
that experience of famine in the far country is the experi
ence of every one that lives without God and without hope
in the world ; that failure of the swineherd is the failure of
every one who attempts reformation without repentance and
return to his heavenly Father; that warm welcome is the*
welcome which divine love longs to accord to every wan
derer weary of his sins and willing to return to his Father's
home. Alas ! the elder brother that murmurs at this wel
come is not without his type even in the Christian Church.
Alas ! despite our eulogies of this parable, society still scans
the repentance and return of any one whose errors or whose
sins it has condemned, regardless or strangely ignorant of its
own. For the fallen one it has rarely a robe, a ring, a fatted
calf, or even a heart of pitying love.
Catholic as is the Gospel which Jesus preaches, all are not
sharers in its benefits. Great as is the love of God, some are
lost to that love at last. He has already, in Galilee, prophe
sied with startling distinctness the coming of a day when
every tree that bears not good fruit will be hewn down and
cast into the fire ; when the wheat will be gathered into
barns, but the tares burned up with unquenchable fire ; when
* Luke xv.

358 PARABLES IN PEREA. [Cuap. XXV.
many shall come from the east and the west, and sit down
with Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob in the kingdom of heav
en, but the children of the kingdom shall be cast out. This
teaching he repeats in Perea in language quite as unmistak
able. On one occasion he is asked directly whether there be
many that are saved. He declines to answer this as a theo
retical question, for Jesus never suffered himself to discuss
abstract theology ; but he affords to it an intensely practical
reply. " Strive," he says, " to enter in at the strait gate, for
many, I say unto you, will seek to enter in and shall not be
able, when once the master of the house is risen up and hath
shut to the door."* There is no one that is not able now.
There are many that will not be able then.
On another occasion, at a dinner-party, a guest utters the
apostrophe, Blessed are they that eat bread in the kingdom
of heaven. Jesus replies by a parable that it doubtless
seems to all that the future of the children of God is bless
ed, and yet many shut themselves out from that blessedness.
The kingdom of heaven, he says, is like a royal marriage
feast. Israel is first invited; but the Israelites, absorbed
with their possessions, their business, and their pleasures,
decline the invitation, and against them the king, sending
out into the Gentile highways and hedges for his guests,
fulminates the terrible decree, " None of those men which
were bidden shall taste of my supper."f
This solemn truth receives yet more emphatic utterance
in another parable. It is a proverb in the Talmud that only
a handbreadth separates between heaven and hell. Christ
teaches a very different doctrine. He graphically portrays
the condition of the two extremes of society — the man of
wealth on the one hand, guilty of no crime but the common
one of indifference to the wants of humanity, and finding his
life in purple and fine linen, and sumptuous faring every day;
and, on the other, the beggar, full of sores, who lies at his
* Luke xiii., 23-30. t Luke xiv., 15-24.

A.D. 33-34.] DIVES AND LAZARUS. 359
door, and feeds on the crumbs that fall from his table. Life
is full of these extremes, Oriental life especially ; and many
a Dives still lives, honored and respected by his fellow-men,
quite indifferent — in truth, ignorant — of the Lazarus who
dwells in the tenement-house across the way. Death changes
the scene. The rich man dies, and his body is carried to its
tomb in all the pomp of wealth. Lazarus dies, and is borne
to the bosom of Abraham in the arms of angels. The pa
tient piety of the poor has its recompense ; for the haughty
child of pride and wealth the hour of repentance has passed,
and between the heaven of the one and the hell of the other
there is no mere handbreadth, but a great gulf fixed — a gulf
so wide that neither penitence on the one side, nor mercy on
the other, can ever bridge it.*
Nowhere does Jesus set forth more clearly love as the
central principle of that religion which he has come to es
tablish. It is not enough to sit at his feet and listen to his
instructions. It is not enough to share some sacred seasons
of hospitable communion with him. In that day of great
surprises, many, to their astonishment, he says, will be cast
out who have eaten and drunk in his presence, and in whose
streets he has taught, but who, despite their profession of re
ligion, have been practicers of iniquity, f
He commends the practice of charity even by the lower
motive of self-interest. He tells the story of a steward who,
having defrauded his master, was about to lose his place.
Unable to work, and ashamed to beg, he availed himself of
the last hours of his stewardship to remit the debts of his
lord's tenants. Thus he secured their good will, and insured
himself a home among them when he was finally ejected
from his office. If, in substance, says Christ, applying this
story, men had the same foresight in regard to eternal as to
earthly matters, they would use their present opportunities
to secure, by their benefactions, the good will of their com
panions. There is no one that can render a perfect account
* Luke xvi., 14-31. t Luke xiii., 26, 27.
16

360 PARABLES IN PEREA. [Chap. XXV.
of his stewardship to God at last ; but, failing in that, there
is no one who can not, by his active benevolence, procure
witnesses to his spirit of love against the day of judgment.*
This is no Gospel of Ebionism. Jesus does not inveigh
against wealth ; he teaches how to use it.
Jesus is accustomed to set in vivid contrast the appear
ances of the present and the realities of the future. It is
this contrast which invests with a singular awe the simple
story of the rich fool. He is a well-to-do and worldly-wise
Perean farmer. He has abundant land. His farms are burst
ing with plenty. His stores perplex him. " What shall I
do," he says to himself, " because I have no room where to
bestow my fruits ?" This is a very common trouble among
capitalists. He does not know how to invest. He forms his
resolution to pull down his barns and build greater. The
thought of the needy and the suffering, and of the means of
real usefulness to others which his possessions afford to him,
has never occurred to his selfish soul. He has no other mes
sage to himself than " Take thine ease ; eat, drink, and be mer
ry." He will, that is, retire on his fortune. To men he seems
wise, prudent, sagacious. God calls him to his account with
a sharp rebuke of his folly : " Fool ! this night thy soul shall
be required of thee. Then whose shall those things be which
thou hast provided." Not every one is wise who knows how
to acquire. He is truly wise only who knows how to impart, f
* Luke xvi., 1-13. Eor a collection of curious interpretations of this dif
ficult parable, see Trench on the Parables, p. 345, 365, and note. - I have fol
lowed substantially the interpretation of Alford, in loco. So, in the main,
Lange (Commentary on Luke ; but see his Life of Christ, vol. vi. , p. 1 78, for a
different view), Owen, Scott, Henry, Bloomfield, Trench, E. N. Kirk. How
diverse are the interpretations of this parable is seen in the fact that the
master has been taken by different authors respectively to represent God
(Alford), mammon (Lange, Life of Christ), the Romans (Schliermacher), the
devil (Olshausen) ; and the unjust steward has been regarded as a type of
the Christian (authorities given above), Christ (Unger), the Pharisees (Vi-
tringa), Judas Iscariot (Bertholdt), Paul (Theophylact), and Pontius Pilate.
t Luke xii., 16-21. See an admirable exposition of this parable in Ser
mons by Rev. Henry Ward Beecher, vol. ii., p. 425.

A.D. 33-34.] ENTHUSIASM AND SELF-SACRIFICE. 361
Jesus makes in Perea, as in Galilee, the incidents that are
going on about him the texts of his discourses. Observing,
at a dinner-party at which he is an invited guest, a conten
tion for the seats of honor, he takes occasion to say that the
true way to seek honor is always to take stations lower than
we are entitled to; then others will interfere to confer a
higher place. Honors sought are short lived. Honors con
ferred unsought, last.
He seizes the same occasion to inculcate the true principles
of Christian hospitality. There is no generosity, he says, in
inviting those who will invite you to their homes in return.*
There is none, let us add, in that system of ceremonial calling
in which accounts are kept with the accuracy of the banker,
and repaid upon mercantile principles in the course of the
year. To call as Onesiphorus did upon Paulf is true, genuine
Christian courtesy. How to use our homes and our tables in
the spirit of a truly Christian love is a lesson which Christ's
disciples have not yet learned. He who should undertake to
practice on the precept of Christ — invite the poor, the maim
ed, the lame, and the blind, would certainly be condemned
for his oddity.
Christ sets very clearly before his Perean congregations
the necessity of self-denial. There is no lack of enthusiasm.
But so-called religious enthusiasm is of no value if it does hot
stand the test of self-sacrifice. It is easier to shout for Christ
than to suffer for him. Sometimes Jesus seems even almost
rudely to rebuff his quondam followers. He urges upon them
to stop, to consider, to count the cost before they pledge
themselves to his service.! This necessity of self-sacrifice is
strikingly illustrated by an incident, the true meaning of
which has been sometimes missed by a failure to consider the
peculiar circumstances of the case.
A young manj attracted by the character and doctrines of
Jesus, came to him and requested permission to join his
Church. He was of noble birth. He was very wealthy. He
* Luke xiv., 7-14. t 2 Tim. i., 16, 17. X See Luke xiv. , 25-35.

362 PARABLES IN PEREA. [Chap. XXV.
was a man of exemplary character and of warm enthusiasms.
He had been a dutiful son and an upright citizen. He was
very much in earnest. He came running to Jesus, kneeled at
his feet, and addressed him as " Good Master." He was quite.
ready, that is, to accept him as his Rabbi. It is not quite so
clear that he was prepared to recognize in him the divine
Messiah, the Son of God. Jesus tried the depth of his faith
in this respect by a test question. " Why," said he, " callest
thou me good? There is none good but one — God?" To
this question the young man made no reply.
Jesus was nevertheless strongly attracted to him. But to
enter his discirjleship there had been from the first one condi
tion — forsake all and follow me. In that little Church it was
absolutely essential that no member should be bound by any
ties to the earth ; for its internal harmony, quite essential that
there should be no distinctions based on wealth or family.
Jesus offered him admission to his band on this condition:
" Go," said he, " sell that thou hast and give to the poor, and
thou shalt have treasures in heaven ; and come and follow
me." This demand was very different from that of the me
diaeval hierarchy, which said, Sell that thou hast and give
to the Church. Jesus simply demanded of this candidate
that he share with his companions their privations, their pov
erty, and their faith in God. He laid on him no other cross
than that which had been voluntarily assumed by all his dis
ciples, who had left their all to follow Jesus. But it was too
much for the rich young noble, and he went away sorrowful,
because he had great possessions. Thus Christ exemplified,
in part, the meaning of his counsel : " Strive to enter in at the
strait gate ; for many shall seek to enter in and shall not be
able." The door is open to all, but it is entered by none
without a struggle.*
At the same time, to his own disciples "Jesus promised
abundant recompense in the future. To the incredulous peo
ple it must surely have seemed strange to hear this Galilean
* Matt, xix., 16-26 ; Mark x., 1 7-27 ; Luke xviii., 18-27.

A.D. 33-34.] THE LABORERS IN THE VINEYARD. 363
Rabbi, who had not a shelter for his head, nor in his commu
nity a single man of wealth, promising houses, and lands, and
office, and honors to his faithful followers. " Every one," he
said, "that hath forsaken houses, or brethren, or sisters, or fa
ther, or mother, or wife, or children, or lands for my name's
sake, shall receive a hundred fold, and shall inherit everlasting
life."* He was careful to explain, however, that this would
not be given upon any principle of mercantile recompense.
Fidelity, whenever and wherever exercised, would receive its
reward. This he illustrated by a parable taken from the
common country life of Perea.
A landholder, he said, went out into the market-place, in
the early morning, to hire laborers, and agreed with them for
a penny a day.f Afterward, about nine o'clock, again at
noon, and again at three, he went out. Other laborers had
meanwhile assembled waiting for work, and he engaged them.
Finally, at five o'clock in the afternoon, he found still some
others there, and he sent them to labor with their fellows.
When at last he came to settle with them, he paid them all
alike. The first murmured at what they deemed the unequal
compensation. He replied that, since he paid them adequate
ly for their service, they had no cause to complain because
he chose to pay the others an equal amount for a less ardu
ous service.!
The early days of Christ were full of trial. Those who in
the early morning of Christianity went to work in God's
vineyard, had indeed the heat and labor of the day to endure.
But they who, in this eleventh hour of the world, accept the
Master's proffer, " Go ye also into the vineyard, and whatso
ever is right I will give you," if they are as faithful in their
day and generation, will receive an equal meed of praise.
There are saints of the nineteenth century as well as of the
first, and God will give unto these last even as unto them.
* Matt, xix., 29.
+ A denarius — that is, about fifteen cents of our money.
X Matt, xx., 1-16.

364 PARABLES IN PEREA. [Chap. XXV.
But he who idles a lifetime in the market-place to accept the
Gospel-call at the sunset hour of his life, can take no encour
agement from this story, unless to the question, which will
surely be addressed to him in the judgment day, " Why stood
ye here all the day idle ?" he is able to reply, " Because no
man hired me."
This ministry in Perea was not a purely personal one. In
Galilee, with its limited territory, its concentrated popula
tion, its few cities, Jesus appointed twelve to preach the Gos
pel in the towns and villages. In Perea, with its larger area,
its more numerous cities, and its more scattered population,
he gave a similar commission to seventy. They were en
dowed with the same supernatural powers. They were to
depend wholly on the hospitality of the people. They were
to preach the same Gospel, " The kingdom of God is at hand."
They were to bear the same solemn testimony against what
soever city rejected in them their Lord. In Perea Jew and
Gentile were inextricably intermixed. The largest cities
were Roman in construction and in character. The disciples
were better acquainted than they were in Galilee with the
principles of the kingdom they were to proclaim. Their min
istry was not, therefore, limited as was that of their prede
cessors. They were not forbidden from entering into Gen
tile cities, or passing the borders of the contiguous district
of Samaria. Unlike the twelve, they were, too, for the most
part, heralds, whose chief business it was to precede their
Lord, announce his coming, and awaken the expectations of
the people for his personal ministry.*
Throughout this ministry Jesus was involved in the same
controversy with the ceremonialism of his age which embit
tered all his life. The Pharisees of Perea found as little to
commend in him as did the Pharisees of Galilee. His repu-
* Eor the commission of the seventy, see Luke x., 1-24. The fact that
Luke alone gives this commission, and that our account of the Perean min
istry is derived chiefly from him, leads me to place it in this period, though
its chronological order is uncertain.

A.D. 33-34.] DIVORCE. 365
tation was not among the hierarchs. They watched him for
occasions of accusation, proffered him hospitality only as a
ruse to entrap him, and openly derided his teachings.*
In Perea as in Judea, the controversy between Jesus and
Pharisaism commences upon the Sabbath question. Jesus re
peats his testimony to the liberty of God's glorious rest-day.
He does not disown the Sabbath obligation. He does noth
ing to relax it. But he teaches emphatically that it is a day
for deeds of mercy. By miracles . of healing at least twice
repeated, once in the synagogue, once in a private house, he
repeats the doctrine that he has already taught in Galilee,
" It is lawful to do good on the Sabbath day." Here, as
there, in every rencounter, Jesus is victor. The common peo
ple appreciate his illustrations, drawn from real life, and ap
plaud his doctrines and his deeds. The Pharisees are enr
raged because they are humbled.f
In order better to bring him into disrepute with the com
mon people, they assume the position of disciples, and ask
him for instruction. But their questions are those of the dis
honest skeptic. They ask not for information, but to baffle
and perplex. Such is the question which they address to him
concerning divorce.
As we have already had occasion to indicate, the laws reg
ulating the marriage relation were fearfully lax in the Orient.
Wedlock was no indissoluble tie. No legal proceedings were
needed to dissolve it. The husband had simply to write a
bill of divorce, and dismiss his wife from the house. In that
bill he was not even obliged to state the grounds on which
he acted. " He that desires to be divorced from his wife for
any cause whatsoever," writes Josephus! — " an<^ many such
cases arise among men — let him in writing give assurance
that he will never use her as his wife any more, for by these
means she will be at liberty to marry another husband." The
Mosaic statute indeed provided that the husband could only
* Luke xiv., 1 ; xvi., 14. t Luke xiii., 10-17; xiv., 1-6.
X Josephus, Antiquities, iv., 8, § 23.

366 PARABLES IN PEREA. [Chap. XXV.
put away his wife in case he " found some uncleanness in
her."* But under that statute he was the supreme judge.
From his decision there was no appeal. The gravest discus
sions had taken place, too, among the Jewish doctors as to
the meaning of the word " uncleanness." The school of Hil-
lel gave to it the utmost latitude. That a woman appeared
in public with unveiled face, that she burned her husband's
food in cooking, even that she ceased to please his capricious
fancy,f was gravely asserted to be a sufficient ground of sep
aration. In the eyes of these Jewish theologians marriage
was not meant to be permanent. It lasted only during the
pleasure of the husband.
The divorce laws of Greece and Rome were very similar.
Cicero dismissed Terentia after thirty years of married life.
Cato the younger divorced his wife that he might give her
to a friend.
The Pharisees proposed to Jesus the question whether a
man might put away his wife for every cause. Jesus replied
with an emphatic negative. He accepted neither the teach
ings of Schammai nor those of Hillel. He denied that even
the statutes of Moses were conclusive. He referred his ques
tioners back to the first marriage in Eden ; declared that
God, by the very constitution of the race as male and female,
had ordained marriage ; asserted that one cause only could
justify in the eyes of God the dissolution of the marriage tie,
viz., a violation of the marriage oath. At the same time, he
explained that the laws of Moses were not always those of a
pure morality. The state can not enforce the ideal by its
statutes ; and Moses, regulating the conduct of a rude and
barbarous nature, was compelled to make allowance for the
spirit of the age and the passions of the people, and establish
no higher rule of law than the average sentiment of the com
munity would enforce.!
The question thus addressed to Jesus had a political as well
* Deut. xxiv., 1-4. t Ante chap, xiv., p. 188.
X Matt, xix., 1-12 ; Mark x., 1-12.

A.D. 33-34.] ENMITY AND POPULARITY. 367
as a moral significance. John the Baptist had a little while
before suffered death for rebuking the licentiousness of Her
od Antipas. The Pharisees, having thus secured Jesus's im
plied indorsement of that rebuke, endeavored to silence him
by threats of the tetrarch's enmity. Under pretense of friend
ship, they warned him that Herod had designs upon his life.
But Jesus perceived their purpose. He replied with digni
fied severity that it could not be that a prophet perish out
of Jerusalem. He was not thus to be swerved from the path
he had chosen.
Thus meeting at every step the invincible enmity of his
foes, Jesus illustrated in his own person the truth of his
aphorism, that he had come, not to bring peace, but a sword.
Among the common people, on the other hand, Jesus's min
istry is attended in Perea with scarcely less popularity than
in Galilee. The publicans and sinners draw near to hear him.
Wherever he goes his way is thronged. For the most part
the poor are his followers ; but now and then, as we have
seen, his Gospel reaches the hearts of the noble and the rich.
There is that in him which touches the hearts of mothers, and
draws their children to him. He not only loves children, the
children love him ; and when, despite the opposition of his
disciples, the mothers bring their little ones to him for his
blessing, he is not content merely to give it, but he takes
them in his arms tenderly.*
Thus passed away the winter months in a ministry of
mercy, pursued unwaveringly, despite obloquy and obstacle.
It might perhaps have lasted until the Passover ; but it was
interrupted by an urgent message from Christ's friends at
Bethany. Lazarus was dangerously ill. His sisters sent in
haste for Jesus. After a brief delay, he prepared, notwith
standing the dangers which would environ him there, to re
turn to Judea.
* See Luke xiii., 17 ; xiv., 25 ; xv., 1 ; Matt, xix., 13-15 ; Mark x., 13-
16 ; Luke xviii., 15-17. 16*

368 BETHANY AND EPHRAIM. ICaxe. XXVI.

CHAPTER XXVI.
BETHANY AND EPHRAIM.*
BOUT two miles east of Jerusalem, on the road
to Jericho, still lie the ruins of the little hamlet
of Bethany. Almost without a history, the vil
lage is forever sacred to the Christian heart as
the chosen home of Jesus during his tempestuous
life in Judea. Embowered in fruity vegetation that gave it
its name, "The House of Dates," and shut out from the busy
city by the mountainous wall of Olivet, on whose eastern
slope it lies, it was doubtless once, though it be not now,
" the perfection of retirement and repose," " of seclusion and
lovely peace."f
Here was the house of Martha, and Mary, and tbeir brother
Lazarus. They were a family of wealth and social distinc
tion ; owned their house ; had their family tomb in their gar
den, as did only the wealthier classes ; esteemed three hun
dred dollars' worth of ointment not too costly a token of
honor to pay to Jesus.! Pharisees in faith, they belonged to
the more enlightened and liberal of that party. They pos
sessed many distinguished friends among that class in Jeru
salem. But neither party friendships nor party prejudices
were able to keep them from Christ. How and where they
first learned of him we do not know. How far Lazarus ac
cepted him does not appear. But the sisters openly enrolled
* John xi. , Luke xi., 1-13 ; xviii., 1-8, 31-34 ; Matt, xx., 17-19 ; Mark
x., 32-34. * Bonar, quoted in Smith's Bible Dictionary, art. Bethany.
X A penny (i. e. , a denarius) a day was the ordinary wages of a laboring
man. Allowing but a dollar a day as the wages of labor now, would fix the
value of the box of oin'.msnt at the price mentioned in the text.

A.D. 34.]

THE FRIENDS OF CHRIST.

369

themselves among his disciples. Twice, at least, they made
entertainments for him. During his last stay at Jerusalem,
just before his crucifixion, when the Pharisees were plotting
his destruction, and the city was not safe for him, they re
ceived him nightly to their house.
Much has been said, and truthfully, of Christ's friendship,
for publicans and sinners. He went in unto them and ate
with them. He never, so far as we know, declined their invi-
tations; never, certainly, because they were not of his sect. or
social standing. Yet this was not because he was insensitive.
It was not because he voluntarily chose such for his congenial
companions. He did not disesteem wealth, and refined and

370 BETHANY AND EPHRAIM. [Chap. XXVI,
social culture. When his work was over, he sought his rest
in the home of Martha and Mary.
There are indications that it was a true home. Sweeter
than the fragrance of its garden flowers was the aroma of
love that filled this quiet home circle. Richer than its wealth
were its heart treasures. These sisters and their brother
were tenderly attached to each other. Their commingled af
fections flowed out unselfishly toward Jesus. The quiet sim
plicity of their love, and the willing service of their hands,
unambitious of honors in his expected kingdom, drew Jesus
to them. He loved Martha, and her sister, and Lazarus. The
sacred quiet of their home made it a place always dear to
him. The family had already known bitter affliction. The mother
was dead — perhaps long dead. For years, how many appears
not, these sisters had known the sad meaning of a motherless
home. The father had been stricken with that most dreadful
of all diseases, leprosy.* With inexpressible solicitude the
sisters had watched its gradual developments. Bitterly had
they fought against the dread conviction deepening in their
mind. Reluctantly had they at length acknowledged what
they long strove to conceal, first from themselves, then from
all others. The priest of God had pronounced the curse of
God upon him. Society had echoed this solemn malediction.
The funeral service had been read over his yet living frame,
and he had gone forth from his home an outcast, to be seen
and known no more. Worse than dead; for never, to their
ears, from the desert where he must hereafter hide himself,
would come back the word when death, the only physician
that could now relieve, released him from his living entomb
ment. And Martha, and Mary, and their brother Lazarus
were left an orphaned family — alone.
On Lazarus these sorrowful sisters thenceforth lavished the
whole wealth of their womanly affections. To them he was
in the place of father, son, brother, husband. Their only
* Matt, xx vi., 6 ; Mark xiv., 3.

A.D. 34.] DEATH. 37I
brother, he was the stay of the house. By him alone could
the family name be preserved and perpetuated. A younger
brother, he had been the object of their almost mother's care
— had received an almost mother's love. When sickness laid
its hand upon him their hearts thrilled with peculiar solici
tude. The very depth of their love added poignancy to their
fears. They sent in haste to Jesus for succor. If, as is prob
able, he was now at the ford of Bethabara, he was less than a
day's journey distant ; but disease outstripped their messen
ger ; before word reached Jesus, Lazarus was dead.
When he returned he brought not Jesus with him. Instead,
he brought an enigmatical reply. This disease, Jesus said, is
not unto death, but for the glory of God. The facts seemed
to belie the message. Lazarus was already dead. Of this
contradiction the sisters' perplexed faith could make nothing.
Anxiously they awaited Christ's coming — anxiously, but in
vain. He who was quick to answer every other call, seemed
indifferent to theirs.
Day deepened into night, and night dawned into day
again, and still he came not. Friends "flocked from the
neighboring city to offer them unavailing words of comfort,
but he who was the consolation of Israel tarried. In the
warm climate of Palestine the funeral could not be long de
layed. The body was wrapped in its burial garments and
consigned to the tomb, and all was over. It is not difficult,
alas ! to portray, in imagination, the darkness which settled
over that home, which has enveloped so many others. The
broken-hearted sisters returned to their desolate fireside.
At every footfall on the walk, at every opening of the door,
they started in a strange half hope of greeting the one who
never opened that door without warm welcome while he
lived — a hope instantly crushed back into despair. Memo
ries of the past came crowding up to the wearied heart, sur
charged with thoughts of grief which it was unable to dis
miss. Bitter thoughts would spring up, unbidden, against
the God who seemed to follow them only with cruel wound-

373 BETHANY AND EPHRAIM. [Chap. XXVI.
ing; thoughts instantly rebuked, cast out with indignation,
but only to return again; blasphemous thoughts; hateful,
yet irrepressible hints of the Evil One ; echoes of the old ad
vice, " Curse God and die." All the hateful breath of public
mourning environed them. Friends and neighbors came
flocking in. Some brought goodish words, and repeated,
parrot-like, hateful admonitions, from which the sorrow-
stricken hearts turned sick away ; and some came, curious
gazers, to look upon the dead, and to lift the curtain that
hides from every eye the heart's holy of holies, and watch
the sacrifice offered up there, and go forth to gossip of it
all ; and some for politeness' sake, less to fulfill the claims
of friendship than the requirements of society ; and some,
a very few, touched with real sympathy, striving to share
that heart's burden which never can be shared, and speak
ing more of consolation by a tear, a pressure of the hand,
the utter .silence of a sympathetic heart, than others by
their many words. So "The night
Fell upon Bethany — and morn — and noon.
And comforters and mourners went their way,
And death stayed on ! They had been oft alone,
When Lazarus had followed Christ to hear
His teachings in Jerusalem ; but this
Was more than solitude. The silence now
Was void of expectation. Something felt
Always before, and loved without a name —
Joy from the very air, hope from the opening door,
Welcome and life from off the very walls —
Seemed gone ; and in the chamber where he lay
There was a fearful and unbreathing hush,
Stiller than night's last hour."*
And still Christ tarried— strangest mystery, bitterest grief
of all.
Oh ! how this grief still repeats itself. How often, despite
our agonizing prayer for succor, Christ delays his coming,
until at length, to the distraught soul, he seems to be indif
ferent and irresponsive to human woe.
* Willis's Sacred Poems, Lazarus and Mary, p. 66.

A.D. 34.] GRIEF. 373
When at length he arrived at Bethany, Lazarus had al
ready been dead four days. Even then Jesus did not enter
the village. Possibly it was not safe for him to do so on
account of the Pharisees. More probably the scenes of for
mal mourning going on in the house were repulsive to him.
He sent word to the sisters that he had come. Martha went
out immediately to meet him, " but Mary sat still in the
house." Of tenderer, though not perhaps warmer heart ; of
more susceptible, though not perhaps truer love, Mary, whose
most joyous hours had been those of repose, was now utterly
broken-hearted. To her there seemed nothing left worth liv
ing for. Even the name of Jesus had not at first power to
draw her from her grief.
How many a Mary, overburdened by an unutterable grief,
thus yields to it and sits still in the house, at first oblivious
of even the Master's coming !
The first greeting which Martha extended, to Jesus was
one of gentle reproach : " If thou hadst been here, my broth
er had not died." His first words of consolation awakened
no hope in her : " Thy brother shall rise again." Martha and
Mary shared the faith, though not the spirit of Pharisaism.
They held the fundamental article of that faith — immortali
ty. They believed that death was a long sleep, and looked
forward with strong assurance to a future day of final res
urrection. But this Pharisaic creed afforded as little comfort as the
like doctrine which still too often supplants the Christian
faith concerning death. Hope can not borrow for present
grief from so distant a future. Jesus disclaimed this cheer
less doctrine of a present sleep and a future awakening:
" Whoso liveth and believeth in me," said he, " shall never
die." Life never ceases its pulsations. The soul does not go
into chrysalis. The dead are the truly living. God's minis
ters of mercy, the departed, are our guardian angels. The
air is full of their unseen forms. As of old time, the hori-

374 BETHANY AND EPHRAIM. [Chap. XXVI.
zon is crowded with these angelic hosts that are round all
them that fear the Lord, and it only needs some prophet's
touch upon our eyes to give us glimpses of them.
To Martha this was strange doctrine. She knew not what
to make of it. She believed in Jesus, however — believed,
despite the trial of her faith, in his truth and love. Less by
his words than by his presence, a strange though unreason
ing hope was awakened in her. She sent for her sister:
" The Master is come, and calleth for thee."
To all that sit still in the very abandonment of grief, these
words are evermore repeated. By his participation in our
sufferings and our death, Christ has come near to all that sit
under the shadow of a great grief. Gently he calls them to
come unto him for rest.
In haste Mary rose to go out to Jesus. The mourners who
surrounded her thought she sought the privacy of the grave
to weep there. Such sorrow ought to be sacred from intru
sion ; but then, as now, many understood not this sacredness '
of sorrow. They followed her to the outskirts of the village.
Here Jesus awaited her. His presence but intensified her
grief. All the past came up before her. She cast herself at
his feet. She repeated the greeting of her sister, " Lord, if
thou hadst been here, my brother had not died."
Oh this "if." How it recurs in our hours of grief to tor
ment us. As little do we as Mary understand that our tears
are for the glory of God ; that there are no mishaps ; that
life has no " if."
This reproach was all the more bitter because it was the
gentle reproach of a still loving and confiding heart. The
sensitive sympathies of Jesus felt at this moment the an
guish which he was so soon to cure. In this scene of weep
ing his prophetic spirit saw portrayed the like anguish of
thousands of desolated homes, and myriads of like pierced and
broken hearts. In the feeble faith of even a disciple so ap
preciative as Mary, he saw reflected the faltering faith of his
universal discipleship withered with the first touch of frost.

A.D. 34.] RESURRECTION. 375
For the moment he seemed to share the weakness of the sis
ters' sorrow with them. He gave to this reproach no an
swer but that of his own tears.
That Jesus should have wept at a grave whose inmate he
was so soon to recall to life, at sorrow he was so soon to
turn to joy, has been a perplexity to many who have endeav
ored to harmonize it with a theory rather than with the facts
of human experience. They have forgotten that sympathy
shares present woe, regardless of future alleviation ; forgot
ten that these tears are but the expression of a life-long sym
pathy ; forgotten that Jesus, who from the beginning saw of
the travail of his soul and was satisfied, was nevertheless,
from the cradle to . the grave, " a man of sorrows and ac
quainted with grief."
The tomb of Palestine was a cave cut by nature or by hand
in the solid rock. A stone rolled against the door guarded
the corpse from beasts of prey. The family tomb was often
in the family garden. It seems to have been so in this case.
The cave in which Lazarus was entombed was sunk in the
rock. Steps led down into it. A stone lay upon the surface
covering the entrance. Jesus directed this stone to be lifted
up. Martha remonstrated. She imagined Jesus desired to
take a last look at the remains. She reminded him that cor
ruption had already commenced. Jesus replied by remind
ing her of his previous declaration : " Said I not unto thee,"
said he, "that if thou wouldest believe thou shouldest see the
glory of God?" To his persistence they yielded. The stone
was removed. The group of mourners gathered with Jesus
and his disciples about the reopened tomb. At every such
new approach to the chamber of death the tears of sorrow
flow afresh. It was mid-winter. The brown earth and naked
trees added to the desolation of the scene.
But, though the way was open, Jesus did not essay to en
ter the tomb. Instead, he raised bis eyes to heaven in a sim
ple but sublime prayer of thanksgiving to his Father and his
God. The moment was one of intense awe. A strange ex-

376 BETHANY AND EPHRAIM. [Chap. XXVI.
pectancy hushed for the instant the sobs of grief. This pray
er was uttered in the softened tones of devout communion.
Then, with a loud voice, he addressed the slumbering dead,
" Lazarus, come forth !"
" And he that was dead came forth, bound hand and foot
with grave-clothes, and his face was bound about with a
napkin." With a joy which even the inspired pen of John has not
ventured to describe, the sisters received to life again their
brother ; with awe - inspired faith, the curious Jews looked
on him who thus proved himself indeed the Resurrection and
the Life ; while, as on a previous occasion, Jesus checked
the too great revulsion of feeling by a practical direction —
" Loose him and let him go."
It must be conceded that a narrative so marvelous requires
the strongest testimony to support it. It is equally certain
that the circumstances of the case preclude the possibility
of mistake. The reality of this resurrection scene can only
be denied by those who are prepared to accuse Jesus of im
position or John of falsification. It is narrated by one who
claims to have been an eye-witness. He could not have been
mistaken as to the material facts. Those facts are incapable
of interpretation upon any hypothesis which denies the su
pernatural power of Jesus and asserts his common honesty.
If Lazarus were not dead, the sisters must have known it.
If Jesus, without supernatural powers, expected to summon
him from the tomb, he must have shared their knowledge.
In other words, the death, the burial, the mourning, the tears
of the sorrowing sisters, the sympathy of the Savior, the pro
test of Martha, the persistence of Christ, were only well-acted
parts in a religious imposture. And to this sorry conclusion
the rationalism of Renan conducts him. Whom in one chap
ter he reverences as the Son of God, he depicts in another as
an Oriental mountebank. He demands the reverence of the
nineteenth century for one. whom, if his tale were true, the
nineteenth century would send to prison.

A.D.34.] THE LORD'S PRAYER. 377
This miracle did nothing to abate the skepticism of the
priesthood, or to diminish their hostility to Jesus. It pro
duced directly the contrary effect, and from the scene of this
wondrous act of love he was obliged to flee a second time for
his life. With his disciples, he retreated from Bethany to
the little village of Ephraim.
The location of this obscure hamlet is now unknown. No
other reliable clew to its site is afforded to us than the decla
ration of John, that it was near the wilderness. Here he re
mained till the Passover. His ministry during this period is
involved in the same obscurity. It is not unreasonable to
surmise that he occupied this season of retirement, as that
in Northern Galilee, with special instructions to his disci
ples, Among these was probably the Lord's Prayer. It cer
tainly was afforded them about this time.
Christ was praying in a certain place. The prayer of the
Jews was almost wholly ritualistic. The disciples came to
Jesus and asked him to teach them how to pray. They prob
ably expected him to give them a new ritual. Instead, in a
very short and simple form, as sublime as it is simple, he gave
them an illustration of those principles which should underlie
all true prayer.*
To Jesus, God is less judge or king than father. Gathered
about him, the whole human race is but a single family. No
vast but illimitable and incomprehensible spirit, pervading
all space but recognized in none, the God whom Christ por
trays is conceived as personified and dwelling in the heavens.
Thus the Christian, in the title " Our Father in heaven," is
taught to recognize at once the brotherhood of man and the
fatherhood of a personal God.
In every thing, with thanksgiving, we are to make known
oui requests unto him. His presence we are to approach
with neither servile awe nor easy familiarity, but with filial
reverence ; our first petition, "Hallowed be thy name."
He who recognizes the disorder which sin has introduced
* Luke xi., 1-4; Matt, vi., 9-13 ; ante chap, xvii., p. 242, note.

378 BETHANY AND EPHRAIM. [Chap. XXVI.
into the world will desire, above every thing else, the re-es
tablishment of peace in the re-establishment of God's author
ity. Thus the key-note to all Christian prayer is the cry of
Christ in Gethsemane, "Thy kingdom come, thy will be done,
in earth as it is in heaven." This oft-repeated phrase is more
significant than we think. It is often a prayer for the bap
tism and cup of Christ, from which we shrink when they are
presented to us.
From God comes all our sustenance. This, like the manna
of the old time, must be gathered fresh every day. The lamp
must be continually fed with oil, or it will go out.* In the
petition, " Give us day by day our daily bread" the Chris
tian recognizes not only this, but also the truth that he lives
by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God.
The poet has said of Satan,
' ' Since God suffers him to be,
He, too, is God's minister,
And labors for some good
By us not understood. "+
Even if this be deemed an exaggeration, yet Christian faith
recognizes that our heavenly Father regulates the tempta
tions which assail us, and provides always a deliverance.
He that trusts in God's promise may be sure that God will
not suffer him to be tempted above that he is able, but will,
with every temptation, also make a way to escape, that he
may be able to bear it ; and he alone is secure who, honestly
avoiding sources of spiritual danger, himself asks of his Fa
ther, "Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from the
evil one." Only he is able to stand in the evil day who thus
puts on the whole armor of God.
Still he will be conscious of transgressions, despite his pray
er and watching. We can never rightfully come to God with
out feeling our need of divine forgiveness, nor entreat it with
out exercising toward others that charity which we implore
for ourselves. The most solemn prayer the Christian utters
* Matt, xxv., 1-13. t Longfellow's Golden Legend, Epilogue.

A.D. 34.] IMPORTUNITY IN PRAYER. 379
is that which is too often a malediction : "Forgive us our
debts, as we forgive our debtors."
Finally, all faith in the efficacy of prayer, in the providing,
guiding, forgiving, and redeeming grace of God, rests in the
belief that life is neither a tangled skein — tangled in the in
extricable mazes of chance — nor an outlying province of hell,
ruled by the Evil One, but that veritably God's is the king
dom, of which the world is truly a part — God's the power,
whose purposes of grace neither life, nor death, nor princi
palities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come,
can ever countervail, and therefore God's alone shall be all
the glory.
Such are the seed-thoughts of this prayer, which, neverthe
less, is incapable of true interpretation except by the Chris
tian heart, whose sincere utterance it becomes by spiritual
adoption. If Jesus by this prayer seems to sanction the use of forms
of devotion — a usage universal in the Church from its earliest
ages, and for which there is the highest authority, both in the
written word of God and the unwritten wants of the heart-
he carefully guards against the dangers of formalism in devo
tion, into which such a usage too quickly degenerates. He
had before cautioned his disciples against vain repetitions in
prayer. By two parables he teaches that there is a repeti
tion, child of an earnest heart, that is not vain, and that, un
der the new dispensation as under the old, there is virtue in
wrestling with God in prayer.
In the Orient it is the custom to travel late at night, for
coolness' sake. There are no inns, in the modern sense of the
term. The traveler depends on the hospitality of the people,
as still with us in border states and sparsely-settled districts.
Such a traveler arrives late at night at the house of a friend ;
it is dark ; the door is shut and bolted ; the master of the
house has retired, and is already asleep ; the would-be guest,
wearied and hungry, arouses him with difficulty. Called from
his bed, and only half awake, the host is little inclined to ex-

380 BETHANY AND EPHRAIM. [Chap. XXVI.
ercise the rites of hospitality. He surlily bids his friend go
away. I have gone to bed, he says, and can not get up and
get you a supper. The answer seems decisive ; but the trav
eler does not accept it so ; he has no idea of sleeping out of
doors, and going supperless to his cold bed. He continues
his knocking, and the host, unable to sleep, yields at length
to the importunity of his friend what he would not yield to
the claims of friendship merely.
It is only to those who so hunger and thirst after right
eousness- that they will not be denied that the promise is
made that they " shall be filled."
Moses had appointed, as we have already seen, local tribu
nals for the trial of subordinate causes, and the punishment
of lesser crimes and misdemeanors.* In accordance with Ro
man policy, which left as far as possible the manners and cus
toms of each province undisturbed, these were still maintain
ed. In every town was this inferior court. These judges, in
the degeneracy of the age, had already become tainted with
that corruption which at the present time almost universally
characterizes the Oriental judge. Christ drew from the life
the picture of such a one. A disciple of the Sadducaic phi
losophy, he was restrained by no fear of God's future judg
ments. A creature, perhaps, of the Roman court, he was ut
terly regardless of the opinion of his fellow-townsmen. It
seems idle to hope for justice from such a man. A poor wid
ow applies at his tribunal for protection from an enemy, but,
being without means to enforce her claim by a liberal bribe,
she can at first get no hearing. Not discouraged, however,
she persists in her petition. The judge never sits down in
the gate — the Oriental court-room — that this woman does
not appear before him. At length, wearied out with her im
portunities, he grants her tardy justice, barely to be rid of
the trouble she inflicts upon him. If, says Christ, the very
worst of men thus yields a hearing at last to the importu-
* Deut. xvi., 18 ; Matt, v., 22-26 ; Jahn's Archaeology, § 243, 245; Jose
phus, Antiquities, iv., 8, § 14.

A.D. 34.] GOES UP TO JERUSALEM. 381
nate, shall not God, the judge of all the earth, give to the
wronged and suffering a hearing ? His justice seems to de
lay ; he seems to hear long and patiently ; but he will avenge
them speedily.*
Thus passed the closing weeks of winter. Mingled with
these private instructions were hours of prayer, preparation
for Christ's approaching sacrifice. At length the Passover
drew nigh. To the amazement of the disciples, Jesus pro
posed to go up to the feast. Already an outlaw in Judea,
condemned alike by the mob and the court, it seemed to them
that he was but going to certain death. Nor did his proph
ecies tend to reassure their fears ; for, in language more un
mistakable than any he had before employed, he disclosed to
them that vision of his betrayal and his crucifixion, which,
after all, none but he could see ;f for to him the result of
this last attempt on Judaism was not uncertain. As from a
mountain-top one sees spread out before him the valley he is
about to enter, Jesus saw the road that was leading him to
the tomb. His disciples' feet faltered. His purpose was
never firmer. With the night of weeping in Gethsemane,
the betraying kiss of Judas, the terrified flight of his disci
ples, the palace of Caiaphas, the judgment-hall of Pilate, the
march to Golgotha, and the cruel crucifixion full in view;
with the blaspheming denials of Peter, the fierce outcries of
the mob, the bitter lamentations of the weeping women, and
the taunts of soldier, priest, and people ringing in his ears, he
steadfastly set his face to go to Jerusalem.
* Luke xviii., 1-8.
t Luke xviii., 31-34 ; Matt, xx., 17-19 ; Mark x., 32-34.

382 TRIUMPH. [Chap. XXVIL

CHAPTER XXVH.
TRIUMPH.*
GREATEST of all the festivals of festal Judaism,
the most joyous and the most solemn of them all
was that of the Passover. It was the birthday
of the nation. On this day Israel celebrated its
divine emancipation. The story of that emanci
pation, as romantic as it is marvelous, is familiar to every
Christianly instructed child. A world-wide interest gathers
about that night, when, after a long series of judgments and
mercies, of miracles that, like the mysterious cloud, looked
with angry face toward Egypt, and a bright and shining one
toward Israel, the long -delayed hour of deliverance drew
near — deliverance of a nation of despised slaves from a na
tion of proud and haughty task-masters. How the Lord him
self hasted through the sleeping land ; how he entered every
house of Egypt, from the palace to the hut ; how in every
one he left a dead body and breaking hearts ; how every be
lieving Jew, warned of death's coming, wara^ed off the blow
by the blood of a lamb marked on the lintel of the door ; how,
thus defended, the Israelites watched through the long night
waiting for the promised summons, and eating their hastily-
prepared meal of unrisen bread as a preparation for their
long, long journey — this has been so often rehearsed in song
and story that it needs no new rehearsal here.f
Every year the Jews gathered in Jerusalem to celebrate
by a feast of unleavened bread and a new sacrifice of a pas
chal lamb this hour of divine deliverance, and keep alive in
* Matt, xx., 17-34; xxi., 1-22; Mark xi.,1-26; Luke xviii., 31-43;
xix ; John xii., 12-50. t Exod. xi. ; xii.

Mar., A.D. 34.] THE PASSO VER. 383
the hearts of their children the traditions of their ancestors.
It was the Fourth of July of Judaism, with this difference,
that it afforded no occasion for the deification of their ancient
heroes ; for godless pseahs in honor of liberty ; for oratorical
panegyrics on the memory of Moses. God was the founder
of their commonwealth. Their praise was paid to God alone.
No true patriot suffered himself to be absent from the
Feast of the Passover. If we could believe the Oriental fig
ures of Josephus, three millions sometimes gathered about
the Temple during this week of prayer and praise.* The
walls of Jerusalem inclosed an area of about one square mile.
That a population three times that of New York city could
have been crowded into a space less than that of some of its
upper wards, overtaxes our credulity. But the Holy City
was doubtless crowded to its utmost. Oriental hospitality
outdid itself. Every house became a caravanserai. Every
door was thrown open to the strangers. The court-yaras
were filled. The roofs of the houses became bed-chambers.
The city overflowed its walls, and the surrounding hills were
dotted with the tented encampments, gathering as near the
Temple of Jehovah as the city walls permitted ; while from
every house and every tent arose, morning and evening, praise
to Jehovah, " whose mercy endureth forever."
The month of March had come, and with it the Passover..
The roads were filled with companies of pilgrims marching
with their wives and children to the city, where alone the
feast Of unleavened bread could be observed. Nature itself,
emancipated from the brief winter, seemed, with its dress of
fresh green, and its bursting buds and blossoms, to share the
festivities of the nation.
Among all these traveling companies none was more joy
ous than that which thronged, unbidden, about the Galilean
Rabbi. His road lay through Jericho. That city was in
deed what its name indicates, a city of fragrance. The plain
which constituted its environs was an oasis of green, in the
* Josephus, Wars of the Jews, ii., 14, § 3 ; iv.,9, § 3.
17

384 TRIUMPH. [Chap. XXVII.
midst of high and barren limestone mountains. The spring
which Elisha miraculously cured* made the earth a marvel of
fertility. It was literally embowered in fragrant vegetation.
It was a favored and favorite city of antiquity. The income
from its palm and balsam was thought by Antony to be a
present worthy of being conferred upon his royal mistress,
Cleopatra. It was chosen as the site of a royal residence by
Herod the Great, who built here a palace, and met here his
death. The tax-gatherers of the Jordan valley, whose fertil
ity the frosts of winter never checked, had here their head
quarters. The priests of Jerusalem found underneath its
shade-trees a quiet retreat when their priestly labors in the
Temple at Jerusalem were over. Thus commerce and relig
ion met here without mingling. It was a city of priests and
publicans. Among these latter was Zaccheus, a chief among publicans;
tnat is, he was a farmer of the public revenues, an officer
answering to our district tax-collector. He belonged to an
ancient Jewish family. His name held an honorable place
among the archives of the period of the Restoration.f He
had acquired great wealth in his calling ; and Rome had done
what she could to make him respectable in the eyes of his
fellow-townsmen by constituting him one of the equestrian
order. But society closed her doors against him. The priest that
passed him on the street gathered his flowing robes together
that he might not suffer the accidental pollution of his touch.
The children of his Jewish neighbors would not play with his
children in the street. Rarely did a Rabbi darken his door.
Despite his wealth, his family, his Gentile nobility, he was an
outcast. For the aristocracy of Judaism was an aristocracy of relig
ious patriotism. Society was exclusive, as where is it not?
The shibboleth which admitted to it could never be pro
nounced by one who suffered Gentile contamination. In the
* 2 Kings ii. , 19-22. t Neh. vii. , 1 4.

Mar., A.D. 34.] ZACCHEUS. 385
Jewish estimation, this publican had not maintained the sanc
tity of his name.* He was no true Zaccheus. His wealth
was ill gotten. His Gentile rank was a stigma of disgrace,
the price paid by Rome for his apostasy. In no city of Pal
estine were social lines drawn more sharply than in Jericho.
Those lines Zaccheus, with all his wealth, could never pass.
This man had heard of Jesus, and desired to see him. But
he was small of stature, and could not get at him for the
throng. He was bandied to and fro by the crowd. Democ
racy often delights thus to avenge itself upon its dignitaries.
To get a better view of the coming king of the Jews, he ran
forward to climb a neighboring tree. That the crowd hugely
enjoyed the nimble climbing of this Roman knight, and made
him the butt of their rude jokes, is as certain as that human
nature was the same in the first century that it is in the nine
teenth. That something more than idle curiosity prompted
him to face this derision is at least a reasonable surmise.
Christ seems to have recognized his allegiance in the act.
He seized the opportunity to rebuke the exclusiveness of
" best society." He singled out this man, called him by name,
and publicly announced his purpose to be his guest. He
passed by the Rabbis and priests of Judaism, and passed the
night at Zaccheus's house.
That Christ preached to publicans and sinners excited lit
tle comment. That on his way to assume his kingdom he
should choose a publican for his companion and entertainer,
shocked the Pharisaic sensibilities. They murmured, saying
that he was gone to be guest with a man that is a sinner.
They were as little able to comprehend this act as were the
aristocracy of Europe the spirit that led Peter the Great,
Frederick of Prussia, and Napoleon the First frequently to
disregard the conventional distinctions of society. " A man's
a man for a' that," the lesson that Jesus taught the Jews in
Jericho, the world has not yet learned, despite the lapse of
ages. To eat with social sinners is scarcely less pardonable
* The word Zaccheus means pure.

386 TRIUMPH. [Chap. XXVH;
in the " best society" of Christendom in the nineteenth cen
tury than it was in that of Judaism in the first. Social de
mocracy is the last, as it is the ripest form of democracy.
At the same time, Jesus exemplified the power of a true
social life. It may well be doubted whether any sermon
would have affected Zaccheus as did the simple fact of this
visit of Jesus. What the social penalties of Judaism could
not accomplish, the proffered love of Jesus wrought. Zac
cheus confessed the errors of his life, promised reform, and
assured the genuineness of his repentance by his acts. A
tax-gatherer, he had been the willing instrument of Rome in
impoverishing the community. He promised, so far as he
could ascertain the victims of his extortion, to restore to
them fourfold. But such an exacter can not accurately re
trace his steps. He promised in addition, therefore, to give
one half his goods to feed the poor, whose substance had con
tributed to his ill-gotten wealth. To Jesus such practical
acts of restitution were the best evidences of a genuine re
pentance. He declared that by this promise Zaccheus con
stituted himself a true child of Abraham. He was now, in
very truth, Zaccheus once more.*
The following day Jesus resumed his journey. The dis
tance from Jericho to Jerusalem is about sixteen miles. It
is easily traversed in a day. The journey of Jesus and his
disciples was a triumphal procession. The Galilean pilgrims
to the feast, afraid of being polluted by passing through Sa
maria, usually made a detour east of the Jordan, recrossed
the river at Bethabara, and, ascending the western hills of
the Jordan valley, passed through Jericho on their way to
the Passover. Thus Jesus was accompanied by the caravans
of his own countrymen, proud of their Rabbi, and doubly
ready, since the resurrection of Lazarus, to do him honor.
The people, who had murmured because he went in to eat
with a publican, admired the conversion he had wrought.
They could not fully comprehend the genuineness of Zac-
* Luke xix. , 1-10.

Mar., A.D. 34.] FALSE ENTHUSIASM. 387
cheus's repentance. But they had no difficulty in appreciat
ing the generosity of his gifts and the completeness of his
restitution. He had pledged one half of his fortune to the
poor; it is indicated that he had already commenced its dis
tribution. The common people rightly considered Christ the
real author of their good fortune. And if the gift awakened
in them any thing like the enthusiasm which a generous bak
sheesh arouses in an Oriental rabble now, it is not difficult to
comprehend the kind of homage they paid to Jesus in return
for his royal provision. The very beggars in the street
caught the popular enthusiasm, and hailed him as the " Son
of David." As he went out of the city, attracted by the cry
of two such who were blind, he stopped, hushed the tumult
of the accompanying crowd, called the unfortunates to him,
and, with a word, gave them. back their sight.* Such an act
intensified the popular feeling. The people praised not less
the condescension of their king than his miraculous power.
They were certain that the kingdom of God would immedi
ately appear. They believed that Jesus was at last going
up to Jerusalem to assume his royal rights as king of the
Jewish nation. f
Christ in vain endeavored to check their enthusiasm by a
parable drawn from contemporaneous history. Archelaus,
though appointed to the succession in Judea by the will of
his father, Herod the Great, had been obliged, before assum
ing his throne, to leave his province and journey up to Rome,
there to secure from the senate their confirmation of his ap
pointment. Some of the citizens had sent thither a delega
tion to protest against this confirmation, but in vain. And
Archelaus had now returned, and had not been slow to take
the vengeance of a Herod on his foes. To this fact, fresh in
the popular recollection, Jesus referred.
The kingdom of heaven, he said, was as one going thus into
a far country, and leaving servants and subordinates to carry
* Matt, xx., 29-34 ; Mark x., 46-52 ; Luke xviii., 35-43.
t Luke xix., 11.

388 TRIUMPH. [Chap. XXVII:
on the affairs of government during his absence. The Lord
is about thus to leave his kingdom. He will, to human vision,
be absent from the earth. Many even would begin to scof-
fingly cry out, " Where is the promise of his coming ?" But
he will return again, his throne and sceptre assured to him,
to summon to account his professed servants, to administer
justice to all idlers, and to punish those who have availed
themselves of his seeming absence to plot treason against
his authority.*
The people, however, were in nowise inclined to receive
such teaching. Belief in a temporal kingdom was too firmly
inwrought into the Jewish mind to be eradicated by a single
sermon. To his own disciples Christ had just, on the eve of this jour
ney, spoken even more clearly. He had declared in detail
what should be the circumstances of his death ; that he
should be betrayed by one of his own disciples, arrested by
the chiefs of his own nation, condemned by their supreme
tribunal, delivered, king as he was, to the hated Gentiles,
mocked, scourged, spit upon by them, and finally put to death
to rise again. Such warnings cast a momentary gloom over
the party. But it lasted but for a moment. If we consider
how coming events still cast their shadows before, and yet
how little accustomed we are to read their prophecies ; how
few are prepared, for example, for the long-expected death
of their friends ; how surprised at last the American people
were in 1861 at the first alarm of war, notwithstanding for
years violent men had threatened and wise men had prophe
sied it, it will seem less surprising to us that the disciples,
living in an atmosphere of Oriental enthusiasm, perceiving
the supernatural powers of their master, and unable to com
prehend his still more supernatural love, should be unable to
understand the meaning of these prophecies, notwithstanding
they seem so plain to us after their fulfillment.
Indeed, there is that in Christ's own teaching which
* Luke xix., 12-27.

Mai-., A.D. 34.] AMBITION OF SALOME. 389
strengthened their erroneous faith. In his conferences with
them at Ephraim he had told them that they should sit on
twelve thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel. He had
promised them that, if they left houses, lands, friends, they
should have a hundred fold in this life, besides life eternal in
the world to come.* He had already conferred upon them
the miraculous powers which he exercised himself. He had
long since promised them the keys of the kingdom of heaven,
whose gates they were to open and close at will.f These
promises we interpret as parables. History gives the proph
ecies of his death a literal interpretation. Let us not wonder
that, in the full tide of popular enthusiasm, they reversed the
process, and interpreted his warnings as parables which they
understood not, his promises as assurances to be immediately
and literally fulfilled. How little the disciples appreciated
the future — how still less, therefore, the common people did
so, is indicated by a single and significant incident.
In the caravan with the twelve disciples was Salome, the
mother of James and John. The few scattered hints of her
character which the evangelists afford indicate that she was
a woman of courageous, ambitious, almost masculine charac
ter. Though she had heard Jesus's parable, she little under
stood its import. Though certainly her sons, and perhaps
she herself, had heard his distincter prophecies, they did not
comprehend their meaning. The kingdom they had waited
for so long seemed now close at hand. Salome had accom
panied Jesus ever since his early ministry. Of her wealth —
for the family was one of means — she had contributed gen
erously to his support, and to that of his little Church. Her
sons had been the first to join their fortunes to his own, and
for that purpose had left not only a competence and a com
fortable calling, but home and friends as well. She now
seized the opportunity to demand for them distinguished
honors in the new era. " Grant," said she, " that these my
two sons may sit, the one on thy right hand, and the other on
* Matt, xix., 27-29. t Matt, x., 1 ; xvi., 19.

390 TRIUMPH. [Chap. XXVII.
thy left, in thy kingdom." Nor is it at all likely that she
understood Christ's enigmatical reply, " Ye know not what
ye ask," until she saw, in* the hour when by crucifixion he
entered into his kingdom, the two malefactors occupying the
very places she had selected for her children.*
Thus the band, augmenting as it marched, passed along the
wild and rocky road that leads from Jericho to Jerusalem.
It was night before they reached the little village of Betha
ny. The city was already fast filling up with strangers ; the
tents of many a caravan already whitened the surrounding
hills. The home of Martha, and Mary, and their brother Laz
arus, claimed the privilege of affording Jesus and his twelve
disciples a generous hospitality. He yielded to their claim.
It was Friday night. An imaginary line drawn about the
city, half a mile distant from its walls, constituted its Sab
bath environs. No Jew could pass that line upon that sa
cred day on peril of severest penalties. Bethany lay without
that imaginary line. The morrow, therefore, was spent in
comparative seclusion with congenial friends. Close to the
bustle of a great and now overcrowded city, no ripple of its
life reached for that day his ear. It was a clay of quiet prep
aration for a week of activity, of conflict, and of anguish, to
end in a victory purchased only by his death.
Jerusalem is literally a city set on a hill. " Beautiful for
situation, the joy of the whole earth, is Mount Zion," sang its
poet-founder, f It is built on a promontory of rock that juts
out from the table-land of Judea. Deep but narrow gorges
separate it from the surrounding hills. On the west and
south, the Valley of Hinnom lies between Zion and the neigh
boring highlands. On the east, between Moriah and the
Mount of Olives, the Brook Kedron sings softly to itself in
the valley which it christens with its name. Only on the
north does the city adjoin the mountain range of which it is a
part. Its uplifted towers are twenty-five hundred feet above
the level of the Mediterranean Sea, the blue of whose waves
* Matt, xx., 20-27; Mark x., 35-45. f Psalm xlviii., 2.

Mar. 31, A.D. 34.]

JERUSALEM.

391

JERUSALEM.

is discernible from a neighboring eminence ; thirty-six hun
dred feet above the valley of the Jordan, whose waters empty
into the Dead Sea eighteen miles to the eastward.
This city is really two. Valleys on either side environ it,-
A third valley, penetrating its heart, divides its rock founda
tion into two hills, and the city itself into an upper and low-
IT*

392 TRIUMPH. [Chap. XXYLi.
er town. The west twin, one hundred feet higher than its
neighbor, overlooks it. This is the Mount Zion of the Bible,
the site of Solomon's royal palace. The eastern hill, smaller
but more precipitous, afforded by its flat platform a fitting
site for the temple he erected to Jehovah. From its battle
ments the spectator looked down a giddy height into the val
ley of the Kedron, far below. Across this valley, and shut
ting in Jerusalem on the east from all view of the Jordan,
rose the Mount of Olives, now barren, but then crowned with
herbage, and covered with the gardens which supplied the
city with its summer fruits. From its summit one may look
east into the basin of the Dead Sea, down a descent so precip
itous that what is really a hard day's journey seems but an
easy hour's walk. Westward he looks down into the very
heart of all that remains of the Holy City, with its narrow
streets, its overhanging houses, its ruined walls and towers,
and its Mohammedan Mosque of Omar on the site of its an
cient Temple.
Leaving the city by the Temple Gate, crossing the deep
valley of the Kedron by an arched and elevated bridge, pass
ing beneath the shade of olive groves, and through the midst
of aromatic gardens, leaving Gethsemane to the left, climb
ing the mount that overlooked the city and the neighboring
gorge, and descending on the other side into the valley,
where are still found the few remains that mark the site of
ancient Bethany, the well-traveled road to Jericho wound its
way, the chosen path of all Jewish pilgrims from the north
and east. Thus every morning of the Passion Week, Jesus,
approaching the Holy City from Bethany, crossed the Mount
of Olives, and, entering Jerusalem near its Temple Gate, pass
ed at once into the outer courts, thronged with devout wor
shipers and curious lookers-on ; thus every evening, when his
work was done, while others went to their city homes, he re
turned the way he came, perhaps to the village that enter
tained him, perhaps to some of the Galilean encampments
that now whitened the groves of the Mount of Olives itself.

Sat., Apr. I, A.D. 34.] ENTRY INTO JERUSALEM. 393
This digression seemed necessary in order to understand
the events of the week on which we are now about to enter.
The Sabbath, as we have said, Jesus spent in seclusion at
Bethany. Meanwhile, however, the rumor had run through
the city that Jesus and Lazarus were both coming up to the
Passover ; and the early sun of the first day of the week
saw a throng streaming out of the eastern gate, and along
the road to Jericho, toward the village where they were stay
ing. At the same time, Jesus, with the twelve, started from
the village for the Holy City. The disciples had procured
for their Master a mule, probably from a Galilean friend —
from some one, at all events, who knew Jesus, and who recog
nized him as his Lord. One of the disciples took off his bur-
noose and made out of it a simple saddle for his Master. The
trappings were not ornate, but they were those of a genuine
love. To his followers it seemed clear that the hour of the
inauguration of Christ's kingdom had at last come. Pilgrims
from Galilee, whose caravans filled the road, and whose en
campments lined it, extemporized a procession in honor of
the Rabbi whose fame reflected glory on their province.
Citizens of Bethany, who bare witness to the resurrection of
their fellow-townsman, vied with them in their homage. As
they marched they chanted some verses of an ancient psalm.*
In the wildness of their enthusiasm, some ran before, plucked
the olive boughs from neighboring trees, and carpeted the
way ; others threw off their outer garments and strewed them
in Jesus's path, that they might receive the consecration of
his shadow falling on them. Some conservative Pharisees
objected, as some of their descendants still object to all re
ligious excitement, and demanded that Christ rebuke this
unseemly enthusiasm. Jesus replied that if the people were
silent the very stones would cry out. The prophet Habakkuk
had six hundred and fifty years before foretold the day when
the stones should cry out of the wall, and the beam out of
the timber should answer it.f Possibly Jesus referred to this
* Psalm cxviii. ,26. t Habakkuk ii. , 11 .

394 TRIUMPH. [Chap. XXVII.
prophecy, and to the hour of its fulfillment, when, because
Jerusalem had no songs of welcome for its Lord, the stones
of its falling towers, and walls, and Temple courts cried out
in wrathful tones the judgments of God against her.
To Jesus this hour of the city's destruction was already at
hand. He shared not the enthusiasm which he would not re
buke. As this procession passed the apex of the hill, he be
held the city, with its white walls glistening in the morning
sun, its palace roofs of red cedar, its innumerable towers of
massive masonry, and its streets thronged with citizens and
pilgrims ; beheld, too, the tented encampments of strangers
which surrounded it. In that moment he saw, as in a vision,
the day so rapidly drawing near when the tents of the Ro
man legions would environ these walls, when the throngs
that crowded its streets would battle with one another for a
crust of bread, when these white walls would crumble to the
dust beneath the Gentile artillery, and when the blood of
priest and people would bring to a final end the whole sys
tem of Jewish sacrifice. And the tears welled to his eyes,
and the soliloquy was wrung from his heart, " If thou hadst
known, even thou, at least in this thy day, the things which
belong unto thy peace."
But they did not know. And with joy in the triumphs of
the present, unconscious of the future, the gay caravan pass
ed on, meeting its counterpart of curious ones coming from
the city to see the Rabbi whose word was invincible over
death ; inspiring these their Judean comrades with their own
enthusiasm ; absorbing them in their own now doubled ranks ;
gathering constant additions as they marched along, as such
crowds always do ; and thus, with resounding psalms, and
waving palm and olive branches, entering the city, perhaps,
by the very gate where, five days later, Jesus went out to
Golgotha, bleeding from the Gentile scourge, and sinking un
der the weight of his intolerable cross.*
* For account of this triumphal procession, see Matt, xxi., 1-11 ; Mark
xi., 1-10 ; Luke xix., 29-44 ; John xii., 12-18.

Sun., Apr. 2.] EXPULSION OF THE TRADERS. 395
Christ's road led straight to the Temple, and to the Tem
ple he went. Its outer court was filled with the same com
pany of traders which two years before he had expelled with
indignation. Does this seem strange ? Yet this phenomenon
is perpetually repeated. Corruptions scourged by the whip
of God from God's Church, return straightway again to plague
it. Jesus, who had commenced his ministry by expelling these
intruders from the Temple courts, could not brook them now
in the hour of his seeming triumph, and a second time he
drove them from the Church which they profaned.* The mar
ket-place he converted into a hospital. The courts dishon
ored by trade he consecrated to mercy. The miracles of love,
which characterized his Galilean ministry, he repeated at Je
rusalem. The blind and the lame came to him and he healed
them.f The sermons which the people had flocked to hear
by the shores of Tiberias he repeated here, and with the same
results. The Temple court was thronged with attentive list
eners.;]; The same testimony they had borne in Galilee they
repeated in Judea. They were astonished at the power of
his teaching. §
Some Gentiles, who had come to look curiously on at this
festival, whose true significance they understood not, were
struck by this sudden burst of popular enthusiasm, and sought,
through some of Christ's disciples, an introduction to the Rab
bi who thus moved the entire city. Greek philosophy was
eclectic. Her scholars, traveling over the then known world,
sought to add something to their stock of philosophy from
the religious faiths of every nation. But Christ had no con
tribution to make to . the cosmopolitan philosophy of the
schools of Athens. He declined the interview'; at the same
time, he accepted the incident as prophetic of the hour when
the glory of the Lord should be seen in Israel, and Gentiles
* Matt, xxi., 12, 13, and parallel passages. It is not clear whether this
expulsion of the traders took place on the first or second day of the week.
Matthew and Luke indicate the former, Mark the latter.
+ Matt. xxi. ,14. % Luke xix. , 48. § Mark xi. , 1 8.

396 TRIUMPH. [Chap. XXVII.
should come to her light, and kings to the brightness of her
rising.* In the Jewish as in the Roman Catholic service, children
participated in the ministrations of the altar. Even these
children of the Temple, sons of the priestly families, and in
training for the priestly order, felt the national heart-beat;
and with their voices swelled the popular chorus of'Hosan-
nah to the Son of David," much to the indignation of their
churchly fathers; for, then as now, there was a Church- con
servatism which objected to Christian enthusiasm in chil
dren's hearts and lives, and disbelieved that out of the mouths
of babes and sucklings God ordaineth praise. Let those who
deny to little children the privilege of joining Christ's disci
ples in proclaiming praise to his name ponder his rebuke of
their ecclesiastical ancestors in the Temple, f
Thus Jesus passed Sunday and Monday. From earliest
sunrise to the dusk of evening he was engaged in teaching
the people the truths of the kingdom of God, and in healing
their suffering and their sick. At night he retreated from the
bustle of the city and the machinations of the priestly party
to the Mount of Olives, or the home of his three friends in the
village of Bethany. J The whole city pulsated with the ex
citement of his presence. The Temple courts were thronged
with his audiences. They came early. They dispersed late.
All Jerusalem was moved by the moral power of this single
man. " The world is gone after him" was the testimony even
of his foes.§
* Isa. Ix., 2, 3 ; John xii., 20-36. t Matt, xxi., 15, 16.
t Mark xi., 11. § Matt, xxi., 10 ; Luke xix., 47, 48 ; John xii., 18, 19.

Tues., Apr. 4.] PERPLEXITY OF THE SANHEDRIM. 397

CHAPTER XXVITI.
CONFLICT.*
3ERY great was the perplexity of the Sanhedrim.
They had long since declared against this Gali
lean Rabbi ; they had formally pronounced the
sentence of excommunication against any who
dared count themselves among his followers ;f
they had issued a public proclamation for his arrest ;\ they
had even overawed members of their own council as wealthy
and as influential as Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea ;
they had succeeded in driving him from the city by mob vio
lence, and had fondly hoped he would never return ; they had
even thought to exile him from the country altogether by
threatening him with the enmity of Herod Antipas ; and now
this outcast and alien marched into the city in triumph, wel
comed by the people as their king, honored alike by Jew and
Gentile, his praises sung in the very citadel of their worship
by the very children of the altar. The heresies whose proc
lamation on the distant hills of Galilee they had with diffi
culty borne, he boldly preached in the very courts of the Tem
ple ; the miracles which they had scornfully demanded were
wrought in the midst of their sacrificial processions ; and a
second time, by his expulsion of the traders, he openly re
buked, in the presence of the people, their corruptions.
And yet they dared not proceed to extreme measures.
The Judeans, indeed, for the most part, felt as little favor
to Jesus as ever. The men who three months before took up
stones to stone him, sat in scowling silence, biding their time.
* Matt, xxi., 23-xxv., 46 ; Mark xi., 27-xiii., 37 ; Luke xx. ; xxi.
f John ix. , 22. X John xi. , 57.

398 CONFLICT. [Chap. XXVIII.
His friends were the Galileans ; but of Galileans the city was
full. They were a hardy and a violent race. Of impetuous
and fiery disposition, they were ready, on a moment's provo
cation, to seize the sword to defend their honor or avenge
their wrongs. Peter, whose impetuosity was at once his most
charming virtue and his greatest weakness, was a fair type
of Galilean character. More than once the blood of these
Frenchmen of the Holy Land had reddened the streets of Je
rusalem and the pavements of the Temple. The attempt to
arrest their favorite would have been the signal for instant
and violent resistance. At the first indications of an emeute
the Roman guards would have swept down the narrow streets
and into the Temple courts. Judean and Galilean would
have fallen together beneath their swords. Jesus would have
become a prisoner of Rome, and, since Rome looked with su
preme indifference upon these religious strifes, would have
been released almost as soon as arrested.
The later experience of Paul indicates the difficulties that
hedged about the Sanhedrim.*
To turn the tide of popularity against Jesus, to check the
enthusiasm of the Galileans, to stir up the prejudices of the
Judeans, and to secure the sanction of the Roman procurator
to the execution of the sentence already practically pro
nounced against Jesus, was the work which the priestly par
ty had before itself. The history of the Passion Week is the
history of their success. Every night they were in secret but
informal session. The treachery of a professed friend, the
worst passions and prejudices of an insensate mob, the pros
titution of the forms of justice, and the fears of a time-server
on the bench, were the instruments they employed.
Yet it is reasonably certain that these hierarchs could not
have turned the current against Jesus. He deliberately turn
ed it against himself. Literally he laid down his own life ; no
man took it from him.
Already Judaism was divided into those parties whose in-
* Acts xxi., 31-33.

Tues., Apr. 4.] POLITICAL HOPES OF THE JEWS. 399.
ternecine strife added bitterness to their last and disastrous
struggle against the Roman government. But, widely as they
differed, in one respect they were agreed — in expecting eman
cipation from the Roman yoke, and the establishment of a
new and world-wide kingdom, of which the Jewish nation
should be the head. Jerusalem, not Rome, was to be the
mistress of the world. The Galilean, too impetuous to be
prudent, was with difficulty restrained from rushing to in
stant and hopeless rebellion against the imperial government.
Insurrection after insurrection broke out in that turbulent
province, only to be instantly quelled and cruelly punished
by the invincible Roman. The Herodian trusted to political
rather than military enginery for the accomplishment of the
same purpose, and saw in the dynasty of the wily and un
scrupulous Herod a hope for the restoration of the throne of
David. The Pharisee, too prudent to join the hare-brained
insurrections of a Judas or a Sadoc — too earnestly opposed to
all combinations with Gentiles to have faith in the schemes
of the Herodians, waited with patient but superstitious faith
for a Messiah, before whose breath the' hosts of the heathen
would melt as the hosts of Sennacherib had done, and whose
single arm, vieing in strength with that of Samson, would as
easily disperse their heathen foes by the hundreds and the
thousands. Thus all agreed in expecting the re-establishment
of a Judaic kingdom, and the coronation, as emperor of the
world, of a' Jewish king.
It was because the Galileans believed that Jesus was this
long-expected king that they welcomed him so warmly.
This dream of empire was one hopelessly wild and singu
larly visionary. Rome was a nation of soldiers. Her stand
ing army numbered nearly half a million of men.* The whole
military force of Judaism proved no match for the four le
gions of Titusf forty years later. In no respect, either, would
the condition of the world have been improved by a change
* See, for account of the Roman army at a little later period, Gibbon's De
cline and Fall, vol. i. , chap. i. t About thirty thousand men.

400 CONFLICT. [Chap. XXVIII.
of masters. Rome was a better queen than Jerusalem would
have been ;, Pilate was a better administrator than Caiaphas.
Yet Judaism might have conquered Rome.
Rome, strong in military power, was weak in moral ideas.
She had no earnest faith, no strong purpose, no central truths.
Her heart was weak, her muscles only strong. In her palm
iest days her gods had been poetic deifications of human vir
tues ; but those days were already past, and the era was fast
approaching when a corrupt and parasitical senate would
vote emperors to be gods while they lived, whom history as
signs among incarnate fiends since their death. Religion no
longer satisfied the heart of the common people or the intel
lect of the wise, and it was sustained, not by any genuine rev
erence for itself, but because it was regarded by its rulers as
a state necessity.
The moral life of Rome shared the corruptions of its effete
religious faith. Bribery was universal and unconcealed. In
the courts — no longer courts of justice — gold was the plea
of the wealthy suitor ; the passions of the populace the de
fense of the poor. Chastity and temperance were the sub
jects of common satire. The drama was supplanted by glad
iatorial combats, and feasting and revelry, continued through
many days and nights, became banquets of death.
" Nothing is left — nothing for future times
To add to the full catalogue of crimes.
The baffled sons must feel the same desires,
And act the self-same follies as their sires.
Vice has attained its zenith."
So Juvenal portrays the life of Rome less than three quar
ters of a century later than the period of which we write.
Here, then, was Rome's weakest point, and in these respects
Judaism was strong. The one provoked the derision of the
wise by presenting for their adoration a host of sensual gods
and goddesses ; the other demanded their reverence for one
supreme and spiritual Jehovah. The one deduced the will
of the gods by the tricks of the soothsayer from the chance

Tues., Apr. 4.] DEGENERACY OF ROME. 401
flight of birds, or the study of the entrails of the sacrificial
victim ; the other pointed to the sublime enactments of
Mount Sinai, the plain precepts of the prophets, and the
moral maxims of the book of Proverbs. The one, regarding
religion as a political instrument, left it to be regulated for
the nation by the senate ; the other, regarding it as an indi
vidual life, forbade any one from interfering between the soul
and its God. The moral life of the one people, corrupted by
its very religious faith, was rotten with self-indulgence and
licentiousness ; the moral life of the other, despite the cor
ruptions of its Church and priesthood, was preserved comparr
atively free from the excesses of Oriental animalism by its
faith in God, in the sanctions of his Word, and in the immor
tal destinies of the human soul.
Thus, then, Judaism might have conquered Rome, not by
the sword, but by its ideas. Thus already, in some measure,
Greece subjugated her own conquerors. Thus Christianity,
slain in the person of its founder by Roman decree, became
mistress itself of her who claimed to be the mistress of the
world. This was the conquest to which Jesus invited his nation.
The time had now come for him to make this purpose clear.
By a spontaneous effusion of popular feeling he had been pro
claimed in the Holy City itself the Son of David. A consid
erable portion of the nation had thus practically acknowl
edged allegiance to him. By miracles wrought in the Tem
ple courts, and witnessed to by his bitterest foes, he had jus
tified the title. Their allegiance he now must test. The
chimerical dream of military conquest he must rudely dispel,
to substitute therefor the more substantial prospect of moral
victory. This he must do with a full consciousness of the
inevitable result. Jewish bigotry would never surrender its
life-long expectations.
To put aside popular enthusiasm is far harder than to de
cline a crown. To turn the homage of a people into execra
tions loud and deep may well test the courage of the most

402 CONFLICT. [Chap. XXVIII.
heroic. This Jesus deliberately did, with the full conscious
ness of all the bitter consequences to himself.
Tuesday, the fourth day of April, A.D. 34,* was by far the
most eventful in the life of Christ — may almost be said to be
the most eventful in the history of mankind. On the even
ing of that day, and for that day's utterances, not on the
evening of his more formal trial, nor for any word of blas
phemy, Jesus was condemned to die.
When he first entered the Temple on that eventful morn
ing, it was evident that systematic plans had been formed to
silence him, if possible, effectually and forever. A common
animosity fused all parties. Old feuds were forgotten, old
party lines obliterated. Pharisee and Sadducee, Herodian,
scribe, and priest, made common cause against him.f They
joined in the crowd which surrounded Jesus. They assumed
to be his discq>les.J Mingling their questions with those of
honest inquirers after truth, they endeavored to entrap him
into answers that should arouse popular prejudice, or embroil
him with the Roman government. They plied him with flat
teries, and, praising his boldness and independence, sought to
cozen him.§ The whole range of thought they traversed,
and questioned him eagerly concerning their political duties
as citizens, concerning practical ethics, and concerning the
most abstruse problems of abstract theology.
Hitherto Jesus had disregarded all such dishonest inquiries
of dishonest skeptics. He had either openly refused, or suc
cessfully evaded a direct answer. This morning he pursued
a different course. He suffered himself to be catechized.
He answered, with one exception, every question. It was his
last day of public teaching. He sought to draw out the hierar
chy, to make plain to all the people the antagonism between
him and them, and to warn the populace against the priests.
* That is, assuming Christ to have been' born A.D. 1. If the more mod
ern hypothesis, that he was bom four years earher, be accepted, this should
be, of course, A.D. 30. See chronological note at the beginning of the book.
t Mark xi., 27 ; xii., 13, 28. . *f Luke xx., 20.
§ Matt, xxii., 16 ; Mark xii., 14 ; Luke xx., 21.

Tues. , Apr. 4.] Q UESTIONS ANS WERED. 403
Refusing to interfere with questions of political adminis
tration, Jesus nevertheless declared that, so long as the peo
ple enjoyed the benefits of the Roman government — employ
ed its currency, for example — they must yield it an ungrudg
ing support. Since they accepted Caesar as their emperor
by using his coin, they must render to him obedience so long
as his laws did not interfere with the higher duty of render
ing to God the things that are God's. Refusing to partici
pate in the puerile imaginings which filled the Rabbinical
books concerning the conditions of the future state, he at
once rebuked the materialistic ideas of Pharisaic theology
by declaring, in effect, that flesh and blood can not inherit the
kingdom of God, while he demonstrated to the Sadducees
the doctrine of the resurrection by a reference to the Penta
teuch, the only part of the Old Testament Scriptures which
they universally and unquestionably accepted. Declining to
take part in the casuistry of his day concerning the relative
importance of the various laws of the ancient commonwealth,
he comprised the whole law in one word — love ; and by a
single sentence sweeping away the religion of mere creeds,
ceremonies, transient emotions, external moralities, and god
less philanthropy, that he might substitute that of a genuine
heart-life, he married piety and humanity in the wedlock of
a true religion by the declaration that the whole law and
prophets are only the amplification and application of the
combined commandments : Thou shalt love the Lord thy
God with all thy heart, and soul, and mind, and thy neighbor
as thyself*
He no longer seemed to avoid controversy. He seemed
even to provoke it. He became catechist in turn ; asked, as
they had asked him, not to ascertain their views, but to con
found and silence them ; and, much to their indignation, suc-
ceeded.f Warnings and prophecies of coming doom, which
* Matt. xxii. , 15-40 ; Mark xii. , 12-34 ; Luke xx. , 20-40.
t Matt, xxi., 24-26; xxii., 42-46; Mark xi. , 29-33 ; xii., 35-37; Luke
xx.. 3-7, 41-44.

404 CONFLICT. [Chap. XXVIII.
heretofore had been generally confined to confidential dis
courses with his disciples, he now publicly repeated. He de
clared that the religion of the Pharisees was one of profes
sion and pretense ; that the publicans and harlots would enter
the kingdom of God before them; that the Jewish nation was
no longer the favored people of God ; that its privileges and
prerogatives would be taken from it ; that it was a nation of
murderers ; that the present generation would, by slaying the
Son of God, fulfill the measure of the iniquity of their fathers;
and that, so far from becoming the mistress of mankind, the
stone which they refused would grind them to powder, the
open door to the feast of God's love would be forever closed
against them, the avenging sword of God would utterly de
stroy them, and their Holy City would be burned with fire.*
Nothing are the common people so quick to resent as the
act of one who dispels their dream of national glory. No one
so quickly arouses their passions as a prophet of evil.
These denunciations were at first couched under the guise
of parables. At length that guise was thrown off. The di
vine patience of Christ seemed to have been exhausted. Endu
rance ceased to be a virtue. For the moment he appeared
to be no longer the Savior, but the Judge of mankind, and to
have already ascended his judgment throne, that he might de
nounce the sure penalties of God upon a people whose piety
was but a poor pretense to conceal lives of selfishness and sin.
Literature may be searched in vain for philippics more terri
ble than those which constitute Christ's last public address
in the Temple at Jerusalem ; and we can well conceive the
awe with which the people, transfixed by the spell of his more
than mortal eloquence, listened to these terrible denunciations
of their religious leaders — denunciations enforced by an air
and manner that spoke unmistakably the fires of pent-up in
dignation which even the calm soul of Jesus could restrain
no longer, and yet that ended at the last in an outcry of in
finite pathos, of divine pity and compassion.
* Matt, xxi., 28-46 ; xxii., 1-13 ; Mark xii., 1-12 ; Luke xx., 9-19.

Tues.,Apr.4.] FAREWELL TO JUDAISM. 405
This commingled denunciation and lament constituted
Christ's farewell to Judaism — the culmination of his minis
try, the first word of whose earliest public and recorded dis
course had been " Blessed," and to the graciousness of whose
first sermons all had borne glad testimony.
Yet it almost seems as though Jesus were still reluctant
to take a final leave of the city which, despite its accumu
lated sins, he so ardently loved.
As the sun sank behind the hills of the distant horizon, he
sat with his twelve disciples on the Mount of Olives, looking
down upon Jerusalem, while in sombre colors he painted the
terrible picture of its destruction, so near at hand, and with
a few prophetic words carried their minds forward with his
own to the yet more dread occasion when all nations and
all peoples would be called before God's judgment throne ;
and in words, perhaps the most solemn and weighty of all his
ministry, warned his disciples — as he still warns us — to be
ready for that awful scene, the day and the hour whereof no
man knoweth — no, not the angels which are in heaven, nei
ther the Son, but the Father.*
These words must have produced a profound effect on all
who heard them. They were the knell of all his hopes to
Judas Iscariot. * Matt. xxiv. ; xxv. ; Mark xiii ; Luke xxi.

406 TREACHERY. [Chap: XXIX.

CHAPTER XXIX.
TREACHERY.*
CRIPTURE scholars have never been able sat
isfactorily to unravel the character of Judas
Iscariot. It is a profound enigma. For three
years he had followed the Master. He had
displayed to no eye except that of Jesus any
indication of his future treacheiy. He had traversed, with
the other disciples, the shores of the Sea of Galilee, the moun
tains of the Jaulan, the coasts of the Mediterranean, the
slopes of Hermon. He had participated with them in his
Master's triumphs and his Master's trials. With Peter, he
had left his all to follow Christ, whatever that all may have
been. He had borne unweariedly, so far as history records,
their privations and their toils. He had received, with them,
ordination to preach the Gospel, and with them had been en
dowed with supernatural gifts. He had healed the blind,
cured the sick, cast out devils, done many wonderful works.
He had been admitted, with them, to their Teacher's confi
dences, sat with Jesus at the table, looked up into his loving
eye, felt, unabashed, its glances read the soul.
But when, at last, the trial day was come, he forswore his
allegiance, separated himself from his old-time companions,
betrayed the confidence of him whom he had not only pro
fessed to love and cherish, but whom he had really followed
through evil as through good report, and purchased for him
self an imperishable infamy, as the very type of treachery,
through all time and among all peoples ; and this for a sum
scarcely sufficient to purchase the meanest slave in Pales-
* Matt, xxvi., 6-16 ; Mark xiv., 3-11 ; Luke xxii., 3-6 ; John xii., 2-8.

A.D. 34.] JUDAS AN ENIGMA. 407
tine* — a sum, probably, far less than he had often borne in the
common treasury of the little company. When at last his
work was done, and he saw the Master whom he had so long
followed about to be borne to his cruel death, he gave every
evidence of being overwhelmed with shame and remorse,
bore solemn testimony to the purity of Jesus's life and char
acter, demanded his release from the priests to whom he had
betrayed him, and finding, as, alas ! too often we find, that it
was impossible to undo the evil he had done, cast contempt
uously away the bribe that had been paid him, and, in an
agony of mind unendurable, perished miserably by his own
hand. It is impossible to attribute his conduct simply to cupidi
ty. It is impossible to doubt that his soul was the theatre
of a tempest of conflicts and passions such as rarely visits
any but strong natures. In endeavoring to trace the history
of that soul-conflict with the slender information we possess,
it will be necessary to rely somewhat upon surmise in lieu
of well-established facts ; for not one of the evangelists has
made any attempt to analyze the character of Judas, and
afford an explanation of the profound mystery which en
shrouds his conduct and his motives.
Judas Iscariot, that is to say, Judas of Kerioth,f was a Ju
dean — the only one among the twelve. This much his name
indicates. The village of his birth, whose name distinguish
es him from the other Judas of Galilean extraction, is a
small town about thirty miles south of Jerusalem ; rather
we should have said it was, for only a few uninhabited ruins
now remain to mark its probable location. He belonged, by
birth and education, to the priestly party. If he was of a re-
* Thirty shekels. A shekel is equal to sixty cents of our money. — Robin
son's Lexicon, art. Apyvpiov. The price paid, therefore, was about eighteen
dollars. A moderate allowance for a difference in value between this age and
that would make it equivalent to from one hundred and twenty to one hun
dred and fifty dollars of our currency.
t For different theories of the etymology, of which this is the most proba
ble, see Smith's Bible Dictionary, art. Judas Iscariot.
18

408 TREACHERY. [Chap. XXIX
ligious family at all, he was often at the Temple, and was
taught from his earliest youth to feel a reverence for its sac
rificial service which his Galilean contemporary was far from
fully sharing. It may fairly be presumed that he possessed
the religious prejudices and opinions of his own people. In
that case, he was proud of his Jewish blood, and inherited
from his ancestry the full measure of their bigotry, of in
tense, bitter, narrow-minded patriotism. The high-priest was
vicegerent of God to him ; the Temple was God's dwelling-
place ; Palestine was the land of promise. It is not a stretch
of fancy to suppose that he shared with his Judean brethren
in a geographical fancy which located Judea in the exact
centre of the globe. It is not an unreasonable surmise that
he participated with them in the almost universal prejudice
which looked with religious rancor upon a heathen and a
publican. He certainly shared in their expectations of a temporal
Messiah. In this he was supported by the universal faith
of all Palestine. His dream was of a resuscitated nation, a
revived theocracy, an hour when the Gentiles should bow be
neath the sceptre of Judah. "In Judah God is known — his
throne is there." This word of God, literally interpreted,
was the assurance of his hope.
The brief glimpses we obtain of his life indicate that he
was in essence a Jew — hard, sensuous, practical. He walk
ed by sight. He believed in things he could see and han
dle. Spiritual glories were unsubstantial to him. There are
clear indications that he shared, too, what may, without un
just opprobrium, be termed his nation's vice — avarice. The
prospect of a throne, a kingdom, a chief place in the new em
pire, with its honors and emoluments, had strong attractions
for him. From the very first he made himself treasurer of
the new company. There are even indications that he was
not always honest in the administration of his trust.* It is
true, the treasury was not large ; but the way to secure its
* John xii. , 6.

A.D. 34.] HIS AMBITION. 409
keys in the hour of its triumph, was to obtain them in the
hour of its feebleness.
Judas did not lack shrewdness.
What first led him to attach himself to Jesus it is not dif
ficult to conjecture, though it must be confessed that it is a
matter rather of conjecture than of positive historical inform
ation. He had looked, with his nation, for the advent of a Mes
siah. Signs were not wanting that the time long prophesied
was at hand. The wise men did not all dwell in the East.
To these signs Judas was not blind ; had he been, the preach
ing of John the Baptist might well have arrested his atten
tion and excited his hopes. He believed, with many a Phar
isee, that the kingdom of God was really at hand. By the
earnestness of that preaching, too, his better nature may have
been touched. He may have been among the Pharisees who
came to John the Baptist, and who, for the time being, at
least, believed. Thus worldly ambition and an awakened
conscience may well have combined to make him watchful
for the advent of the King of the Jews.
His name is not mentioned till after Christ's first visit to
Jerusalem. The same miracles that convinced Nicodemus
that John was a prophet sent from God, may have wrought
a similar conviction in the mind of this Judean. He was not
wanting in a certain kind of mental sagacity. Under the
garb of this Galilean Rabbi he had the penetration to per
ceive his rare character and his extraordinary powers. Am
bition, and that cunning which often attaches a political in
triguer to an unpopular cause in the days of its unpopulari
ty for the sake of the advantage which, to his far-sightedness,
it promises in its certain future of triumph, did, perhaps, the
rest. Does not the history of the anti-slavery movement in
America afford some illustrations of a kindred cunning ?
Yet it is impossible to believe that no higher motive actu
ated this Judean disciple ; for rt is impossible to think that
Jesus would have added to his Church one utterly and hope-

410 TREACHERY. [Chap. XXIX.
lessly corrupt. His death attests that he was not without
some appreciation of honor, some sense of shame. The
preaching of Jesus had doubtless real power over him. He,
perhaps, honestly enlisted in Jesus's service. The seed may
have taken real root none the less that thorns so soon sprang
up and choked it.
It is not difficult to trace, in imagination, the rest of his
career. So long as Christ preached only " the kingdom of God is
at hand," so long Judas followed him with implicit faith in
his Gospel. When the twelve were sent forth to repeat that
message, he accepted the mission without hesitation, fulfilled
it without faltering. His faith that he would soon share in
the glories of that kingdom was the common faith of all.
Peter, boasting of his fidelity, asked what he was to have
therefor. John and James sought the first rank in the Mes
siah's nobility. Up to the last moment the twelve contend
ed in unseemly strife for precedence at the table.
But when Christ refused the proffered crown at the plain
of Bethsaida, Judas's faith was staggered. When Jesus told
the people at Capernaum that it was only by his death he
was to enter into his kingdom, Judas showed signs of disap
pointment that did not escape the sensitive heart of John.*
When, in distincter language, Jesus prophesied his crucifix
ion, Judas, too guarded to utter the rebuke of Peter, shared
the sentiments he was too secretive to express. When the
rich young nobleman offered to join their band, Judas could
ill comprehend the policy tbat would turn him away. When
more than one like Nicodemus made overtures of secret alli
ance, Judas was restive under the rebuff that was adminis
tered to all who refused to confess Jesus before men. When
Jesus uttered his first philippics against the Pharisees, Judas
was among the first to instigate, if careful himself not to ut
ter the caution, " Knowest thou that the Pharisees were of
fended ?" And his covetous nature and suspicious disposi-
* John vi. , 64.

A.D. 34.] HIS RELIGIOUS PREJUDICES. 411
tion resented in secret every such utterance as the enigmati
cal sentence, " How hardly can a rich man enter the kingdom
of God ;" or that invective against worldly-mindedness veil
ed under the parable of the rich fool ; or that yet more strik
ing contrast between earthly and spiritual wealth which is
afforded by the story of Dives and Lazarus. He thought,
with Renan, that Jesus preached a gospel that savored too
strongly of Ebionism. He had no ambition to be poor.*
Such, at least, we may well conceive to have been the ef
fect of these teachings on his sordid soul.
Nor was it only his ambition that was crossed ; his relig
ious prejudices must also have been shocked. Judean by
birth and education, the radical nature of Jesus's teaching
offended him. He secretly revolted at the utterance which
denounced the ablutions of the Pharisees, a ceremonial which
the Jews had been taught to regard with reverence akin to
that, paid by the Romans to the mass. He was perplexed by
his new Master's disregard of the Pharisaic Sabbath. He
was impatient at what seemed to him the unnecessary disre
spect to popular prejudice — the more impatient that those
prejudices were his own. His reverence for the high-priest,
the prelate of Judea, was wounded by the repeated rebukes
which Jesus administered to the priestly party. His intense
nationality rendered to him obnoxious the teachings of such
paralbles as that of the good Samaritan, and such broad dec
larations as that the children of the kingdom would come
from the north and the south, the east and the west, while
the children of Abraham would be cast out.
Thus, if religious feeling combined with worldly ambition
to draw him to Jesus, religious prejudice combined with a
disappointed ambition to repel him.
Nothing is more deadly than a perverted conscience ; and
Judas had a conscience.
As the close of Christ's life drew on, the conflict in Judas's
* For indications that all the disciples were at least perplexed by these and
kindred utterances, see Matt, xv., 12 ; xvi., 22 ; xix., 25.

412 TREACHERY. [Chap. XXIX.
soul became bitter and more marked. Jesus, stoned from
the Temple, he was ready to desert ; Jesus, thronged with
attentive and admiring audiences, he was proud to acknowl
edge as his Lord. Jesus, prophesying of his shameful death,
he had no ambition to follow to the cross ; Jesus, promising
to the twelve disciples the right to sit on twelve thrones,
judging the twelve tribes of Israel, was a Messiah after his
own heart. Jesus, exiled from Judea, seeking in Perea safe
ty from the Sanhedrim, he thought a sorry king ; Jesus, rais
ing the dead Lazarus by a word, revived his faltering faith
and stimulated his slumbering hopes. Jesus, sitting down
at meat with the despised Zaccheus, outraged his Jewish
sense of propriety; Jesus, riding in triumphal procession
amid waving branches and popular songs of rejoicing, re
flected a glory in whose lustre he was glad to shine. Jesus,
rebuking the heresies of the Sadducees, his orthodox head
commended; Jesus, denouncing the hypocrisy of the Phari
sees, his too worldly-wise heart condemned.
Christ's teachings on Tuesday put an end to this conflict.
The kingdom of Jesus was not a Judaic kingdom. The vine
yard was to be taken from Judah and given to worthier na
tions. Her house was to be left to her desolate. Of her
walls, and bulwarks, and towers, whose praises David had so
sweetly sung, not one stone was to be left upon another. In
the revelations of that hour, the dream of this Judean van
ished. He seemed to himself the victim of an unwarrantable
delusion. He rehearsed in his mind the repeated promises
of his Master. These turned to be Dead-Sea fruit in his
grasp. He forgot the warnings and the interpretations
which should have guarded him against his false hopes.
He was the victim of an unwarrantable delusion, but it was
that of his own sensuous imagination.
He is not the only one who, having put his hand to the
plow, has drawn back, seeing how sharp a furrow it cut
through the fair sward.
To draw back from a reformation is never easy. To aban-

A.D. 34.] HIS WOUNDED PRIDE. 413
don a failing cause; to return to Judaism because Christian
ity had no crown to offer — to return confessing the failure
of his cause and empty-handed, was more than the sensitive
ambition of Judas could endure. Sensitive we call his am
bition. * Two incidents of his life show it to have been so ;
one at the supper in Bethany, the other at the supper in
Jerusalem. Gradually, therefore, there had arisen, darkly and dimly, in
his mind a project for returning not empty-handed. The
damnable suggestion had been whispered to his cunning soul
that the very difficulties of his position might be turned to
the account of his ambition. For over two years the Judaic
party had sought in vain the charmed life of this Galilean
Rabbi. He that should destroy for Judaism this young Go
liath that defied it, would he not receive the hosannas of vic
tory from priest and from people ? Already, in his imagina
tion, he saw himself crowned by the party of his youth and
the vote of the chief council. This, not the paltry sum of
thirty pieces of silver, was the price his imagination offered
him for the betrayal of his Lord.
He forgot that always the price of treachery is scorn —
scorn heaviest from those who profit by it. So did Arnold.
So does" every traitor.
Little by little another element entered into the conflict
going on within him — revenge. These dark thoughts, grad
ually as they had grown, carefully as they had been hidden
beneath an almost impenetrable reserve, Jesus had read. He
sometimes intimated in enigmas his knowledge of them. The
Son of man, he said, will be betrayed.* The disciples looked
on such occasions with wondering suspicion at each other;
most of all, perhaps, at Judas, who was not a Galilean. These
intimations galled him. His sensitive pride, keenly sensitive
to praise and blame, made more of these suspicions than there
really was, and widened the gulf already separating him from
his companions. He writhed in angrier indignation because
* John vi., 70, 71 ; Matt, xvii., 22 ; xx., 18.

414 TREACHERY. [Chap. XXIX.
he felt their justice, and because, unuttered, he could not
openly resent them.
Thus gradually Judas separated more and more from his
companions. Thus gradually more and more his disappoint
ed hopes and base ambitions shaped themselves into a treach
erous purpose.
Such was his state of mind when a very simple incident
crystallized his ill-defined design into an instant and well-de
fined resolve.
On the return of Jesus from Jerusalem, Tuesday evening,
Martha and Mary made an entertainment for him; Judas,
of course, was among the guests. Martha was a good house
keeper, and evidently prided herself on her housekeeping.
The feast was worthy of the family and the occasion ; but
Judas, brooding over the problem how to withdraw without
disgrace from following this uncrowned king, was in no mood
for feasts. The supper was Martha's homage to Jesus. Aft
er the supper Mary offered hers. She opened a box of very
valuable ointment. A little would have sufficed for any or
dinary anointing, but none less than the whole sufficed for
Mary's love. After anointing the head, she poured the re
mainder upon Jesus's feet.
At another time Judas might have accepted such an act
of homage. If it had followed the hour of Christ's triumphal
procession, he might have recognized it as a tribute not un
worthy to be paid to his king. But it followed a day that
signified his final breach with Jesus — a day dark with its ut
tered foreboding to Jews and the Jewish nation — a day mo
mentous with its prophecies of coming disaster. Judas for
got his careful reticence, and openly condemned the waste
of such wholesale offerings. Even now he had the wisdom
to conceal his displeasure beneath a pretended regard for
the poor. He even succeeded in communicating his senti
ments to some of the other disciples.*
Jesus instantly defended the womanly love that proffered
* Compare John xii., 5, with Matt, xxvi., 8.

Tues., Apr. 4.] HIS BARGAIN. 415
him this homage, and somewhat sharply rebuked the re-
buker. " Let her alone," he said. Then he added, with in
finite pathos, " She hath done this to my burial." The re
buke was not severe. It was far less so than the one which
Jesus had long before administered to Peter ; but, with all
his faults, an impulsive love was the key-note of Peter's char
acter. Pride was the master passion of Judas's soul. Love
accepts any rebuke. Pride submits to none.
Ill at ease, feeling as though these simple words had half
unveiled his latent treachery to all the guests, morbidly fan
cying his own self-condemnation reflected in their faces, in
dignant at the real rebuke and the imaginary exposure, and
receiving, in the allusion to Christ's burial, new confirmation
of Christ's approaching defeat and death, Judas escaped at
the earliest moment from the house, hastened to the city,
sought some of the chief priests, and communicated to them
his readiness to betray his former master.
Even in the excitement of that hour of evil ambition and
dark revenge he did not forget his ruling passion. They
agreed to pay him thirty shekels for his service. The die
was cast, and Judas only awaited the opportunity for the
fulfillment of his design.
That opportunity did not occur till Thursday evening.

18*

416 THE LAST SUPPER. [Chap. XXX.

CHAPTER XXX.
THE LAST SUPPER.*
\UT a few hours before Jesus's death he gathered
his disciples for a familiar interview about the
table of the paschal supper. This festal service
he requested his friends to keep thereafter as a
memorial, not of their national emancipation, but
of his dying love. His simple request has converted this
national birthday into the birthday of Christianity. This
supper has become a permanent ordinance of the universal
Church. It was carefully guarded against ever becoming a
luxurious entertainment by the simplicity of the elements of
which it consisted — bread and wine. Despite its simplicity,
it is observed by different denominations in widely diverse
ways. Some kneel around an altar ; some sit in pews ; a few
gather at a table ; none observe with accuracy the original
form ; and none, let us hope, are oblivious of its sacred spir
it. It is repeated in tbe mass of the Romish and Greek
churches ; in the more simple yet solemn ritual of the Episco
palian ; in the still simpler yet impressive service of the Non
conformists. Various conditions are attached by later tra
dition to its proper observance. These differ in different
communions. In one, the participant must have united with
the Church, accepting its doctrinal statements ; in another,
he must have been regularly immersed ; in a third, he must
have gone to confession, and received absolution. In nearly
all, none but a regularly ordained minister may break the
bread and pour the wine ; none but a deacon pass them ; in
the Romish Church, none but a priest partake of the cup. In
* Matt, xxvi., 17-35 ; Mark xiv., 12-31 ; Luke xxii., 7-38 ; John xiii.-xvii.

Thurs., Apr. 6.] ITS SACREDNESS. 417
the faith of a large proportion of Christ's professed disciples,
a mystic change takes place in the bread and wine at the
moment the admmistrator pronounces over them his prayer
of blessing. To some it becomes veritable flesh and blood
of Jesus. To others it receives a peculiar spiritual property,
appreciable, not to the cold sense, but to the spiritual imag
ination. To yet others, who deny alike the real and the spir
itual presence of the Lord in these emblems of his love, there
is still something sacred in the tokens he has left — not mere
ly for the associations which they awaken, but for themselves.
To the priest it is a consecrated wafer ; to the Protestant it is
holy bread ; while to priest and Protestant alike this supper
is very generally accounted a rite that belongs exclusively
to the Church, that binds its members together, that sepa
rates them from all who are not of their fold, and until late
ly — and still in some Christian denominations — a bond, not
of communion between different bodies of Christ's believers,
but a test that separates Christ's disciples, coworkers in a
common field, and confessedly inspired by a common pur
pose. In the perpetuation of this simple service in so many dif
ferent forms, under so many different auspices, in so many
different tongues, and through so many centuries, there is
something sublime. Other services lose, by perpetual repe
tition, their sacredness, and are obliterated even from the
memory of mankind. Forms, ceremonies, rituals, are revolu
tionized by the progress of human thought and the perpetu
al evolution of new ecclesiastical agencies ; but the Lord's
Supper is more sacredly enshrined to-day in . the memory of
mankind than ever before. Alike in the most costly cathe?
dral, with its fretted vaults, its echoing aisles, its magnificent
chorals, its priestly procession, and its solemn stillness and
" dim religious light," and in the log cabin of the far-distant
Western hamlet, with its bare rafters, its floor of earth, its
wild, weird psalmody, and its music of sighing winds and
singing birds drifting in through the open windows, this

418 THE LAST SUPPER. [Chap. XXX.
bread and wine receives, though in far different method and
in different measure, the homage of grateful and loving
hearts. For love never grows old, and the communion service is
the memorial of an undying love.
Into the theological controversies which have grown up
about this table, it is not the province of the historian to en
ter. With the interpretation of its spiritual meaning afford
ed by the Church, or even by the apostles themselves, we
have in these pages nothing to do. Nor in drawing rever
entially aside the ivy which loving hands have trained over
the monument of Jesus's love, that we may gaze upon it as
he framed and patterned it, do we mean to do dishonor to
the hearts that have thus twined these later offerings about
it. Our simple purpose is to recount the history of its ori
gin. That history will show that, whatever the Church has since
made it, whatever Jesus's prophetic spirit may have intended
it to become, in its origin it was a family, not a Church ordi
nance. The Church of Christ, indeed, was not called into ex
istence till the feast of Pentecost, nearly two months later.
It was not built till its foundations had been laid in the cross
of Christ.
No mystic changes characterized these emblems in the
hour when Jesus first pronounced his blessing on them. In
veritable flesh and blood he sat before his disciples. His spir
itual presence was felt in his words, and needed no other ut
terance. This bread, after, as before the blessing, was sim
ple bread; this wine unaltered grape juice.
No ecclesiastic was appointed to administer it in future
ages. In its inception it was, like the Passover which it sup
planted, a family ordinance. Jesus, as the father of his little
company, presided, and for its future celebration gave no oth
er ordination than " Do this in remembrance of me."
For participating in its privileges, he prescribed absolutely
no conditions except such as are involved in that simple sen-

Thurs., Apr. 6.] CONDITIONS OF ITS OBSERVANCE. 419
tence. His disciples had united with no ecclesiastical organ
ization. There is, as we have already said,* no adequate ev
idence that they had received Christian baptism. They cer
tainly did not go to confessional. They received no other
absolution than Christ's oracular and significant declaration,
" Ye are clean ; but not all." To unite in this supper, he
prescribed but one condition —
Love! And, finally, he can hardly be said to have prescribed this
rite — if rite it can be called — as a law. Rather he vouchsafes
it as a privilege. " Do this in remembrance of me" is a re
quest rather than a command. Certainly it savors less of the
language of obligation than the sentence " If I have washed
your feet, ye ought also to wash one another's feet." The
one service is laid aside by the almost universal consensus
of the Christian Church ; the other is best observed where its
obligations are recognized as those of a loving remembrance.
To the institution of this memorial supper the course of our
history now conducts us.
Wednesday and Thursday, Jesus did not go into Jerusa
lem. He knew the treachery of Judas, and perhaps purpose
ly avoided the dangers with which it threatened him. He
had earnestly desired to eat the Passover with his disciples.f
After that he was ready to suffer all things.
This was to be eaten on Thursday evening.J
* Chap. XVI., page 225, and notes. t Luke xxii., 15.
X There are few questions in Gospel harmony that have given Biblical crit
ics more difficulty than the one respecting the time, or rather the occasion of
the first celebration of the Lord's Supper. There is no doubt that it was par
taken of on Thursday evening. The synoptists certainly indicate that this
was the evening of the Jewish Passover. John, on the other hand, gives, at
least to a casual reader, the impression that Friday was the Jewish Passover,
and he makes, it will be remembered, no direct mention of the institution of
the Lord's Supper. I have followed the order of the synoptists, as do Kitto,
Smith, Robinson, Eddy, Newcome, Andrews, and apparently Lightfoot. This
view is denied or doubted, on the other hand, by Pressense", Milman, Ellicott,
Townsend, Alford, and Neander, It is impossible to condense the results of
the discussion, or even adequately to state the question, within the compass

420 THE LAST SUPPER. [Chap. XXX.
When Moses had announced to the Israelites in Egypt that
the hour of their deliverance drew nigh, he had commanded
them to make preparation for a hasty midnight meal. They
were to partake of it standing, their loins girt about, their
feet sandaled, their bread unleavened, they themselves ready,
on a moment's notice, for their long pilgrimage. By direc
tion of God, he had converted this hasty supper into a per
petual ordinance. It was a family feast. It antedated the
Church. The father on these occasions was the priest of his
own household. He slew the lamb with his own hand. At
evening he gathered his family about the table. Seldom less
than ten or more than twenty sat down to the sacred service.
Whether, ordinarily, the women of the household shared the
feast with their brethren is uncertain. There are historical
instances in which they seem to have done so.* The lamb,
roasted whole, was placed at the head of the table, before the
master of the house. Not a bone of the animal could be
broken. Unleavened crackers constituted the only bread,
unfermented wine the only beverage. A dish of bitter herbs
and spiced sauce completed the food. The supper was a rit
ualistic service. The father was its administrator. He pro
nounced the blessing at the commencement of the meal ; he
dipped the bitter herbs in the sauce, and distributed them to
the circle ; he carved and passed the sacrificial lamb ; he con
secrated, first the bread, then the wine, by a prayer of bless
ing; and he made the whole service a text for a historical
account of the nation's deliverance — an account which he
sometimes amplified into a lengthy religious discourse. The
singing of the 115th, 116th, 117th, and 118th Psalms closed
the service.f
To partake of this supper Jesus had come to Jerusalem.
of a note, and I must refer the student to Andrews's Life of Christ, p. 423-
460, and Robinson's Harmony of the Gospels, p. 196, note, for a statement of
the reasons which have led me to the conclusion adopted in the text.
* 1 Sam. i., 7, 8 ; Luke ii., 41, 42.
t For an account of the original institution of this supper in the wilderness,
see Exod. xii.

Thurs., Apr. 6.] FEET-WASHING. 421
For this feast could only be celebrated in the Holy City ; if
not necessarily within its actual walls, at least within its Sab
bath environs. Bethany, as we have said, lay beyond them,
and at Bethany, therefore, Jesus could not properly observe
the Passover.
It is true that times, and seasons, and places are unimpor
tant in Christianity. But it was the Jewish feast that Jesus
desired with his disciples to observe.
These facts must be borne in mind in order to understand
the events which follow.
Every house in Jerusalem at this season threw open its
doors. Every room became for the one evening a dining-
hall. Jesus had experienced no difficulty in procuring a room
for himself and friends. It was in an upper chamber. The
other rooms were doubtless occupied by the host himself, or
by some of his kinsfolk. Busy administering the supper to
his own family, the host could not share in that of his guest.
But, in truth, Christ desired for this evening to be alone with
his disciples. Not even his own mother was of his circle.
The walk from Bethany to Jerusalem was a dry and dusty
one. The unprotected feet needed washing when Jesus and
his friends arrived at their host's door. This was the more
necessary, since in Oriental fashion the disciples reclined at
meat, and thus each guest rested almost on his neighbor's
feet. It would have been the province of a servant to un
loose the sandals and bathe the hot feet before the meal be
gan ; but Jesus and his disciples had no servants, and those
of the house were busily engaged. The water and the basin
were there, but no one to use them.
Jesus waited to see if any disciple would offer to perform
this necessary service — waited till the table was set and the
hour of the meal had arrived. Instantly the disciples began
a singularly unseemly contention for the chief places at the
table, at which, in accordance with Oriental rules of etiquette,
every place was numbered, and guests were seated according
to their rank. The company of Jesus was an absolute de-

422 THE LAST SUPPER. [Chap. XXX.
mocracy. This question of rank was, therefore, one difficult
to be settled.*
Jesus waited till this contention was ended and all had
taken their places at the table. It was clear that cleanliness
was less than social ambition to them all. Then he offered a
rebuke as gentle as it was memorable. He rose from his seat,
laid off his upper garments, girded himself with a towel, liter
ally in the fashion of a servant, and himself washed and wiped
their feet. Such an act of condescension awoke the remon
strances of Peter ; but Jesus, having undertaken these offices
of the servant, insisted on completing them. He even seemed
to establish them as a rite of perpetual obligation. " If I,
then, your Lord and master, have washed your feet, ye also
ought to wash one another's feet ; for I have given you an
example that ye should do as I have done to you."f
This precept, if it is indeed a precept, has been regarded by
but one small and almost unknown sect. Yet in form it is
almost as explicit as any which Jesus ever uttered. Neither
baptism nor the Lord's Supper receive the sanction of a com
mand more unambiguous. For this almost universal disre
gard there is but one explanation consistent with true allegi
ance to Christ. No ceremony is of the essence of religion.
No law or method of administration is of prime importance.
The spirit only Jesus commands. In the Orient this feet-
washing was significant. In our Occidental life it would lose
all its meaning and degenerate into a mere lifeless ritual.
There is no ceremony which the Church may not modify as
necessity requires. There is no spiritual law which it can re
lax. The language may change, the truth must abide.
Jesus resumed his seat, and commenced the administration
of the paschal service. He pronounced a blessing on the
feast, poured out and passed to his disciples the first cup,J
* Luke xxii., 24-30.
t John alone records this incident (John xiii., 1-20). The phrase "The
supper being ended" (verse 2) would be better translated " the supper being
set," or perhaps "begun."
X Luke xxii. , 17. This is not the cup of the Lord's Supper. See ver. 20.

Thurs., Apr. 6.] "IS IT I?" 423
passed the bitter herbs, carved the lamb, circulated the sec
ond cup. But a pall hung over this supper. It was no feast
of joy. It was indispensable to Judas's purpose that he
should continue to be one of the twelve. The presence of
this uncongenial soul was a restraint. It was impossible for
Jesus to unveil himself before his betrayer in the confidence
of love.* He had already declared that he should be betray
ed. He now gave this declaration a new significance : " The
hand of him that betrayeth me," said he, " is with me on the
table." This declaration produced the utmost excitement and con
sternation. But to the eager questioning of his disciples,
" Is it I ?" Jesus made no response. John was leaning on his
bosom. At Peter's suggestion, he put the question more
privately : " Lord, who is it ?" But Jesus only repeated his
previous declaration in a different form: "He that dippeth
his hand with me in the dish," said -he, "the same shall betray
me." At the same time, according to the order of the Jew
ish ritual, he dipped a second time the bitter herb in the dish
of sauce, then passed the dish to the twelve for them to fol
low his example.
In so doing he handed it first to Judas.
Thunder-stricken at the sudden unveiling of his secret pur
pose, Judas had been at first silent. Now recovering his
self-possession, he sought to hide his confusion by repeating
the question of the other disciples : " Master, is it I ?" They
noticed, in their intense excitement, neither this question nor
the affirmative response of Jesus, who added, " What thou
doest, do quickly." This sentence, unmeaning to them, was
full of significance to the traitor. Jesus's comprehension of
his purpose seemed to threaten its defeat. Clearly what he
did must be done quickly or not at all. All the malign pas
sions of his nature intensified by what, despite the gentleness
of Jesus, seemed to him a public exposure, anxious no longer
* Observe, as indicative of this effect of Judas's presence on the heart of
Jesus, John xiii., 21.

424 THE LAST SUPPER. [Chap. XXX.
to conceal his purpose, but only to execute it, he rose from
the supper-table and left the room.
His guilty conscience rendered him sensitive and suspi
cious. He thought he had been read by all the disciples.
But he was mistaken. So ambiguous had been Christ's lan
guage that Judas alone understood him. The rest thought
only that their fellow-disciple had gone on business connect
ed with their little company.*
Now it was that Jesus, by a few simple sentences, insti
tuted the sacred service, which will last so long as love lives
on the earth. At the burial-service bread was broken among
the mourners, and the cup of consolation passed to them.
By his words Jesus seemed to convert the joyous festival
of Jewish emancipation into a funeral service. Passing the
broken bread of the paschal feast, he substituted for the
words of the Jewish ritual a new sentence of solemn mean
ing: "This is my body, broken for you." Passing the final
cup of the supper, for the word of praise and thanksgiving
he uttered the enigma, " This is my blood of the New Testa
ment, shed for many for the remission of sins." Then, by a
single sentence, he endowed this simple service with its im
mortal life —
"This do in remembrance of me."
Thenceforth at this table, at which no uncircumcised male
might before sit down,f should sit many from the north and
the south, the east and west, children of the kingdom. Here
the Old Dispensation and the New should meet in communion.
Henceforth, to the table made sacred by the participation of
Moses and Aaron, of Saul and David, of Isaiah and Jeremiah,
and the later prophets, all the world should be welcome that
remembers Christ in love. Henceforth, in the fellowship of
that grace that makes of one blood all the nations on the
face of the earth for to dwell together, this table, hedged
about by no impossible conditions, preserved for no favorite
people, and. administered by no priesthood, should be open to
* John xiii., 28, 29. t Exodus xii., 43-45.

Ihurs., Apr. 6.] SADNESS OF THE DISCIPLES. 425
all, of every nation and of every sect, who love Jesus in sin
cerity, and desire, in the method he has appointed, to memo"
rialize his love.
This inexplicable change in the service did not relieve the
disciples from the gloom which was cast over them by the
prophecy of Christ's betrayal and the singular withdrawal
of Judas. It was deepened by the pathetic words which ac
companied that change. In the prophecies of Jesus there
was no longer any ambiguity. One of the twelve he had al
ready declared should betray him. He now added that the
close of his earthly mission had come ; that his betrayal
should take place that very night ; that he should be seized,
and his disciples scattered as shepherdless sheep ; and that
one of them — one among the most ardent and most faithful
¦ — would purchase immunity from the terrors that were be
fore them by denying his long-confessed allegiance. It was
already night ; all this would occur before the cock-crow of
early dawn.
At these words there settles over each of the disciples
an irrepressible sadness, a nameless terror, an indescribable
gloom. Never did man need the succor of human sympathy
more than the man Christ Jesus then. Facing the cold
sweat of the midnight agony in Gethsemane, and the fearful
horrors of the morrow's mob ; satisfied that at last his dis
ciples dimly comprehended the trials through which he was
about to lead them, he consecrated these last quiet hours of
his life to words that were long their consolation and inspi
ration, and that, thanks to the loving pen of John, have been
an exhaustless source of consolation and of strength to his
disciples in hours of trial and affliction ever since.
The heart refuses to accept the cold analysis which the
intellect affords of words so precious. The historian can
only point his readers to that record of them which the be
loved disciple has afforded us — forever beloved of the univer
sal Church of Christ for his gift of these divinest pages in
all the blessed Word of God.

426 GETHSEMANE. [Chap. XXXI.

CHAPTER XXXI.
GETHSEMANE.*
^ISING from the table, Jesus, during the utterance
of these ever-memorable words, left the room,f
traversed the now deserted streets of the city,
passed through one of its eastern gates, crossed
the brook Kedron, and sought, in one of the
numerous gardens which covered the slope of the Mount
of Olives, his favorite retreat. The moon was now at its
full. Its rays, struggling through the thick shade of the ol
ive and the tangled vines that formed the fretted roof of his
rural sanctuary, illumined the garden with its peculiar light,
and cast a deeper shade beneath its umbrageous trees. It
was nearly midnight. From the neighboring city the lights
of many a paschal supper in many an upper chamber were
still twinkling ; but the only sound that broke the utter still
ness of the hour was the song of the neighboring brook and
the faint echo of the watchman's cry from the city walls as,
in his nightly rounds, he called the hours as they passed.
The gloom that settled so darkly over the hearts of the still
faithful eleven began to penetrate the heart of Jesus himself.
The peculiar shadows of that moonlight hour typified the
darkness, faintly illumed with hope and faith, that rested not
* Matt, xxvi., 36-56 ; Mark xiv., 32-54 ; Luke xxii., 39-54 ; John xviii.,
1-15. t John xviii., 1. Literally, "These words speaking, Jesus went forth,"
etc. At what time he left the room is of course uncertain. It seems rea
sonable, however, to suppose that he did so at the time indicated in ch. xiv.,
ver. 31: "Arise, let us go hence, " especially as the discourse of the vine which
follows is redolent of the vineyard and the garden. For other theories, see
Alford on John xv., 1.

Thurs., Apr. 6.] JESUS'S HEART-STRUGGLES. 427
only on the souls of Jesus's little band, but now on that of
their master also.
The prayer of benediction which he had uttered in the
presence of them all was an insufficient outlet to his over
burdened heart. He directed most of his disciples to await
his return near the entrance of the garden ; Peter, James,
and John he asked to accompany him to its remotest soli
tude. In that hour of grief the heart of Jesus craved the
sympathy of congenial friends — desired the presence of no
others. He had strengthened their hearts by the outpour
ing of his love and the uplifting of his soul in prayer. He
asked them to strengthen him by their prayers mingled with
his own.
But even this might not be. This burden he must bear
alone. Even the poor solace of companionship was, in that
hour of grief, denied him.
Whatever perfection of divine strength the universal faith
of Christendom may attribute to Jesus, it is certain he was
not elevated above the common woes of humanity. Howev
er we might delight to depict the Son of God conquering sin
and Satan, as young David did Goliath, by a single well-di
rected blow, it is not thus his biographers have portrayed
his life. He was not only a man of sorrows — he was ac
quainted with grief. A repressed conflict, hidden beneath
the calm exterior of his life, spoke occasionally in strange
and uncomprehended soliloquies — " I have a baptism to be
baptized with, and how am I straitened till it be accomplish
ed ?"* " What shall I say ? Father, save me from this hour ?
But for this cause came I unto this hour. Father, glorify thy
name."f " Ye shall be scattered every man to his own, and
shall leave me alone ; and yet I am not alone, because the
Father is with me. "J
Three times in his earthly course this inner life revealed
itself in mystic experiences — the temptation, the agony in
the garden, and the cry upon the cross. Whoever ventures
* Luke xii., 50. t John xii., 27. % John xvi., 32.

428 GETHSEMANE. [Chap. XXXI.
to study these experiences, must do so with a reverential
heart. Whoever would truly comprehend the life of Jesus
can not pass them by unstudied. " Whenever," says Krum-
macher, " I am called upon to treat of the sacred mysteries
of Gethsemane, I can not divest myself of a certain degree
of awe." "A feeling always seizes me as if it were unbecom
ing to act as a spy on the Son of the living God in his most
sacred transactions with his heavenly Father." "But the
Gospel brings the mysterious narrative before us for consid
eration, and hence it is incumbent upon us to enter into its
sacred gloom, and seek to comprehend as much of it as hu
man apprehension is capable of."*
Christ's Church still awaits its Lord without these garden
walls. His dearest friends still abide a stone's cast from
him. No one is permitted to enter into the mystery of his
experience of grief ; but no one who loves his Lord can pass
it by uncontemplated. While he agonizes, let us not sleep,
but watch.
Almost in the very spot where David, a thousand years
before, fleeing from the treachery of Absalom and Ahitho-
phel, had poured out his soul in an agony of prayer, great
David's greater Son rested under the shadow of a baser
treachery, and, facing with clearer foresight a far more
dreadful future, wrestled in prayer with a relentless terror
that might almost have borrowed the very words of his an
cestor's prophetic experience:
My heart is sore pained within me ;
And the terrors of death are fallen upon me ;
Fearfulness and trembling are come upon me ;
And horror hath overwhelmed me.t
The circumstances were such as might well fill any human
heart with dark foreboding and bitter conflict. And we are
never to forget that Jesus's heart was human.
He loved life ; loved this beautiful world, with its bright
* The Suffering Savior, p. 116.
t Psalm Iv., 4, 5. Compare also verses 12-14, 21.

Thurs., Apr. 6.] PREVISION. 429
flowers and its sweet birds ; loved the Galilean lake and the
sacred stillness of its everlasting hills ; loved, too, his friends
with all the fervency of an ardent and affectionate nature.
Life was just opening before him with its bright promises of
the future, and now, in the very prime of manhood, when his
whole nature was eager for its work, he was called on to
leave all and die.
Die by a death whose unutterable agonies faded from
thought in a clear apprehension of its unutterable shame.
The very clearness of his prophetic vision must have in
tensified the horrors of the morrow. Our fears are lighten
ed in the darkest hour by a strange, sometimes an utterly
baseless hope. Not so his. He received already the shame
and spitting of the high-priest's servants, saw the infuriated
mob, heard their furious outcries, felt his flesh quivering be
neath the blows of the cruel scourge, witnessed the mockery
of his title, his truth, and his cause, hung between the male
factors and before the scoffing crowd. Into this one hour
was crowded, by prevision, the combined agony of all this
experience of horror.
To the prophet's mind the future is often more real than
the present. So it was to Jesus.
And yet this was the least.
He loved his country — loved her none the less because he
loved humanity more. He had striven earnestly for her re
demption ; had endeavored to purify her of her corruptions ;
had sought to unite the contending factions which eventual
ly made a divided nation an easy prey to the Roman de
stroyer. " Often," said he, with touching pathos, " would I
have gathered thee together, as a hen gathereth her chickens
under her wings, and ye would not." All hope of his nation's
redemption must have been now sorrowfully relinquished.
He beheld the city of Jerusalem crushing her own citizens
beneath her falling walls and towers. He saw the peaceful
Lake of Galilee reddened with the blood of slaughtered thou
sands, and her fleets illuming the surrounding hills with the

430 GETHSEMANE. [Chap. XXXI.
glare of their conflagration. He saw the people he loved re
jecting the plan which might have made them the vanguard
of Christianity, the peaceful conquerors of mankind, and ren
dering themselves outcasts and aliens throughout the civil
ized world.
Many an American in this generation has passed through
a Gethsemane of agony for his country's preservation that
may help to interpret one drop in the cup which Jesus was
now drinking.
Yet this was but one drop.
He loved the Church — the Church which he was about to
redeem by his blood. Its mournful future marched in fune
real pageant before him. He knew that his followers must
share his baptism with him ; saw his cross laid heavily on
shoulders less able to bear it than his own. He could not
fail, too, to perceive its future history written in its present
character. He felt the treacherous kiss of Judas on his cheek,
and knew how many a false disciple would join the Church
from motives of worldly ambition, to betray it whenever and
wherever he could secure a better worldly price. He heard
the blaspheming denials of Peter, and knew that many of his
warmest, truest friends would repeat this cowardly denial,
and never repeat the bitter tears of sorrow that followed it.
He read the whole history of his Church, with its martyr
doms, its corruptions, its schisms, its contentions, its hot hate,
and its cold love.
Was it for this he was to pay a price so dear ? Was such
a harvest worth such sowing ?
He felt surely a keener anguish in the sharp thrust of un
grateful, unappreciative hearts. He was the friend of the
common people. It was for his defense of them against the
oppressions of the priestly party that he was about to die ;
and yet it was the cry of the common people that crucified
him. This was but a prophecy of the future. He saw the
seeming fruitlessness of his sacrifice ; he saw his cross de
spised by some, ignored by many more ; he heard the story

Thurs., Apr. 6.] THE BITTERNESS OF DEATH. 431
of his love repeate'd in a thousand pulpits by cold lips, and
falling in a thousand congregations on dull ears.
This vista of the future might well have shaken any human
resolution. The priesthood wrested his teachings to his own
destruction. If the words of that fatal Tuesday could but be
recalled, if they never had been spoken, the terrors of Friday
would not face him now. Literally he laid down his own
life ; no man took it from him. Strange if the momentary
question did not obtrude itself whether those words were
needful — whether he was not, indeed, throwing away a life
which duty, as well as instinct, demanded he should pre
serve ?
Jesus habitually called himself the Son of man. In this
moment all the humanity within him must have combined
against his divine purppse of self-sacrifice. Not only love of
life, holy ambitions, strong affections, but conscience, and love
also, seemed to remonstrate against a sacrifice so great for
souls so indifferent. Even the pure sympathies that extorted
tears from his eyes at the grave of Lazarus throbbed with the
anguish of his mother and the dark dejection of his downcast
disciples. In this hour, too, was fulfilled his prophecy, " The prince of
this world cometh, and hath nothing in me."* What dark
suggestions of the Evil One were whispered to Christ's soul
Christ has not revealed. Of this, however, we may be sure,
that he who employed in the wilderness ail his arts of flat
tery, employed in the garden all his inconceivable enginery
"of malice.
In the reactions of such an hour the very foundations of
the being are broken up. The soul seems to lose its moor
ings. Hope is no longer a sure anchor. Invisible truths
seem shadowy and evanescent, heaven remote, God himself
withdrawn, nothing true. Who has not known hours when
bitter conflicts, culminating, obscure even the moral vision,
and leave the soul for the moment hopeless and in despair ?
* John xiv., 30.
19

432 GETHSEMANE. [Chap. XXXI.
Yet these experiences of the man Christ Jesus do not inter
pret to us the bitter agony of that midnight hour.
A deeper, an inexplicable terror confronts us.
The soul-conflict of the Son of man we can dimly shadow
to ourselves, but no human experience can interpret the un
utterable agony that pierced the heart of the Son of God.
With reverential steps we have entered these outer courts of
his life. The holy of holies of his heart, where atonement is
made for the sins of the people, we dare not seek to enter.
"He hath borne our griefs and carried our sorrows." So
much of the prophet's declaration we can partially compre
hend ; but who can fathom its conclusion : " We have turned
every one to his own way, and the Lord hath laid on him
the iniquity of us all ?"
The sting of death is sin. That sting entered Christ's soul.
This bitterness of death he tasted for every man. It was not
only the sorrows of a world that were concentrated into a
single hour, the sins of a world were bound upon a single
.soul. There are times when the flood-gates of recollection
open, and the accumulated guilt of a lifetime overwhelms the
conscience in despair. There are times when some sudden
gleam, some thunderbolt in life, illuming the dark clouds of a
past black with duties neglected and sins committed, reveals
them to the startled consciousness in masses more heavy, and
more terribly surcharged with wrath than ever the conscience
had before conceived. Then the soul bears for a moment its
own iniquity. But to bear this burden for humanity— to see,
as in the revelations of an instantaneous vision, the dark deeds
and darker thoughts of generations past and generations yet
to come ; to turn from the setting sun of the past to the ris
ing sun of the future, and alike in the night and in the morn
ing horizon of history see only written the deep damnation
of a lost world ; and then to feel the dark pall of this accursed
load settling strangely down upon the soul — a soul whose di
vine purity trembled with unutterable horror at the lightest
thought of sin — this, infinitely more than human experience,

Thurs., Apr. 6.] "THY WILL BE DONE." 433
is incapable of any other interpretation than that which it
receives from the superhuman agony of him who for our
sakes endured it.
Solitude became insupportable. Twice the sufferer sought
the companionship of his friends. Each time he found them
— wearied with watching and anxiety — asleep ; so soundly
sleeping that even his mild reproach to Peter," What ! couldst
thou not watch with me one hour ?" failed truly to arouse
him. Solitude is preferable to such companionship. To his soli
tary struggle he returned again.
The moon was veiled this fearful night in an eclipse. Her
blood-red face told the story of the morrow's blood ; a deeper,
darker shadow rested on the garden and on its solitary suf
ferer ; a deeper, darker shadow on his heart.
The cold of an almost winter night was forgotten in the
hot agony of that hour. Great drops of perspiration stood
on the forehead. The surcharged heart drove the blood in
dangerously accelerated currents. It oozed and dropped in
bloody sweat upon the ground.* Life can not long bear such
draughts upon its forces. A little longer of unaided battle
might have converted Gethsemane into the sacrificial altar
of the world.
But Jesus was not left unaided. An angel gave that
strength which man denied, and bore him up against the pros
tration of this terrible struggle.
Yet in it all, strengthened or alone, the divine purpose of
his life never for an instant swerved. It was not too late
even now to withdraw from the work he had undertaken, or
to fly the nation that cast him out, and in new fields and by
new methods seek the world's redemption ; but this thought
never gained entrance to his heart. Never once did his soul
cease from its prayer, " Father, thy will, not mine, be done."
* For instances of bloody sweat produced by great mental agony and strug
gle, see Stroud on Physical Cause of Christ's Death, p. 85-88, note iii., p.
379-389.

434 GETHSEMANE. [Chap. XXXI.
This prayer of Christ is the Christian's best prayer. The
soul thus anchored to the will of God never makes ship
wreck. Gradually that will became clear again to Jesus. The hu
manity within him bowed to his unshaken purpose. His soul
resumed its self-conscious power. The outcry of his heart
was changed. No more he prayed, " If it be possible, let this
cup pass from me," but, " If this cup may not pass away from
me except I drink it, thy will be done." The powers of sin,
beating in vain against his steadfast heart, grew less violent.
The strength of the tempest was broken. Clouds and dark
ness no longer environed him. He felt anew the strong as
surance of his Father's presence, saw in the deeper future the
ripened fruit of the morrow's planting, by faith perceived the
travail of his soul, and was satisfied. Already, in imagination,
he had endured the cross with the patience with which, upon
the morrow, he bore unmurmuring its agony. Divinely
strengthened, he despised its shame ; and even now, in the
flesh, he felt himself sitting down at the right hand of the
Father in the glory of his love.
The battle was over — the victory won ; and the tumult cf
the morrow was unable to disturb the deeper peace of his
soul, who thus drank the cup of death even before his foes
pressed it to his lips.
While Jesus was thus preparing himself and his disciples
for the trying events of the morrow, Judas had hurried from
the supper-table to the palace of the high-priest. A tumult
of conflicting passions, the revenge of wounded self-love, the
hope of sordid ambition, the spurs of a perverted conscience,
struggling with whatever of better life and purpose long in
timacy with Jesus may have awakened in his heart, seems
now to have borne him along in a current from which he no
longer even sought to escape. The full issue of his crime he
had probably never considered — never suffered himself to con
sider. Crime rarely possesses true foresight.

Thurs., Apr. 6.] THE BETRAYAL. 435
The high-priest's palace was open to Judas at any hour ;
the high-priest himself awaited his coming. The paschal
feast was not too sacred in his eyes to be broken in upon for
the purpose of arresting Jesus. The Levitical police of the
Temple were quickly summoned. An application was made
to the Roman centurion in the neighboring tower of Antonia
for a guard of Roman soldiers ; for the priestly party still
feared resistance — feared still more the interference of the Ro
man procurator. They desired also to impress upon his mind
the dangerous character of the outlaw they were about to ar
rest. Their application was readily granted, and a little aft
er midnight the band were passing through the same gate
through which Jesus and his friends had passed a little while
before. The Galilean peasantry, keeping within the city walls
the paschal feast, could not easily be aroused to proffer any
resistance to their favorite teacher. If they heard in the
midst of their festal service the measured tramp of this patrol,
they little comprehended its significance. Thus the very sa-
credness of the hour aided the purposes of the priestly party.
The guard were well armed — the Jewish police with heavy
clubs, the Roman soldiery with short swords. They carried
flambeaux with them, to assist, if need be, in their search.
Judas marched at the head of the troop. A singular infatu
ation urged him to complete in person his treacherous design.
He was familiar with Jesus's favorite retreats, and led his new
companions straight to the garden of the wine-press.
Thus it happened that Jesus, praying in that garden " Thy
will be done," heard in the measured tramp of the approach
ing guard, and saw in their lights gleaming across the inter
vening brook, God's answer to his prayer — God's will that
the cup should be drunk to its dregs.
He hurried to the entrance of the garden. His first thought
was of the disciples he had left there, his first care to secure
their safety. A single short sentence sufficed to awaken the
three friends who had accompanied him. The sound of the
approaching band had perhaps awakened the rest. Aroused

436 GETHSEMANE. [Chap. XXXI.
from sleep to find themselves surrounded by the Roman
guard, in whose midst their eyes, still heavy with sleep, dis
cerned one of their own number, it is not strange that the ac
counts which they have left us partake of the confusion and
alarm that filled their minds. We might well doubt their
authenticity were it otherwise.
Judas greets his master with a kiss. Even his ready assur
ance can find no response for Jesus's gentle, and, therefore,
poignant rebuke. The more than human majesty of the Lord
throws the band into momentary confusion. It is increased
by his voluntarily designating himself as the object of their
search. They are prepared for resistance, not for surrender.
They retreat for the moment from before this single unarmed
peasant-Rabbi, and fall backward to the ground. The disci
ples are filled with a strange hope of supernatural deliver
ance. The stories from their Old Testament Scripture of hosts
of aliens put to flight by a single hero of Israel* have pre
pared their minds for such expectations. They appeal eagerly
to Jesus for leave to follow up this retreat of their* foes with
a vigorous onslaught. Peter can not wait for a reply, but
draws his sword on Malchus, who loses an ear instead of his
head only because the assault is too impetuous to be sure-
aimed. It is by no means certain that for the moment re
sistance would have been in vain. It is reasonably certain
that escape was possible.
But Jesus will neither resist nor flee. The suddenness of
the exigency has no power to disturb his equanimity. He
commands his disciples to put up their swords. With a touch
of the hand he restores the ear of the high-priest's servant.
Of his captors he asks but one favor, that his disciples be suf
fered to depart unmolested. This request the eleven inter
pret as a command to them to flee. In that moment their
master's prophecies of his sufferings and cleath flash with new
significance across their minds. While the soldiery, now re-
* As, for example, Samson, Judges xv., 15 ; Jonathan, 1 Sam. xiv., 1-23 ;
David, 1 Sam. xvii.

THE AKEEST.

Thurs., Apr. 6.J

THE ARREST.

439

assured, seize Jesus, his frightened followers make good then-
escape. Meanwhile, the spell of the momentary awe broken,
every hand of the guard is ready to help in binding the pris
oner. To this Christ offers a dignified but unavailing remon
strance. He is not a thief or a robber, he says, and if he was
deserving of arrest, might have been taken at any time in the
Temple. But he offers no resistance. The thongs are bound
around his wrists, and the guard, this work accomplished, re
trace their steps by the way they came, their prisoner in their
midst. Judas still accompanies them.
In the dark shadows of the trees, and beneath the over
hanging houses of the narrow streets, two figures furtively
creep, following the guard. These are Peter and John, de
termined to see the final issue of this fearful night.

19*

440 THE COURT OF CAIAPHAS. [Chap. XXXII.

CHAPTER XXXII.
THE COURT OF CAIAPHAS.*
^HAMEFUL degeneracy and disorder characterized
the times of which we write. Justice was little
more than a name. The functions of the courts of
Judea were usurped by their heathen conquerors.
They had lost their responsibility to the people,
and therefore the sanction that alone preserves the purity of
public officials. The monarchy no longer existed. The high-
priesthood, an office half religious, half political, was filled
by appointees of the Roman court. They were removed and
appointed at the pleasure of the Roman governor. This of
fice, that was originally held for life, was filled in a hundred
and seven years with twenty-seven appointees. It is with
delicate sarcasm, therefore, that John describes Caiaphas as
high-priest for this year.
For nearly fifty years, however, this office had been really
under the control of one Annas or Ananus. He seems to
have been one of that class of politicians who are willing
that others should occupy the place of state, provided that
they may really wield its powers. Five of his sons in suc
cession held the no-longer-sacred office. It was at this junc
ture filled by a son-in-law. His name was Joseph Caiaphas.
Both father and son were creatures of the Roman court.
Both belonged to the Sadducaic party. Both were openly
infidel concerning some of the fundamental truths of the He
brew faith. Both were professional politicians. The key
note to their character is afforded in the too frank utterance
* Matt, xxvi., 57-75 ; Mark xiv., 53-72 ; Luke xxii., 54-71 ; John xviii.,
13-27.

Fri., Apr. 7.] PRELIMINARY EXAMINA TION. 441
of Caiaphas at the informal conference of the Sanhedrim,
immediately after the resurrection of Lazarus : " Ye know
nothing at all, nor consider that it is expedient for us that
one man should die for the people, and that the whole nation
perish not."* The patriotism of these priests was that of the
place-hunter. It was far better that Jesus should lose his
life, and the Judean courts their purity, than they their office.
To Annas, as the moving spirit of the priestly party, Jesus
was therefore first taken. Upon Annas really, more than
upon Pilate, more than upon Caiaphas, who was simply the
executioner of his father's will, the responsibility for the cru
cifixion of Jesus rests.
Yet Annas had no intention of bearing that responsibility.
He sent the prisoner at once, bound as he was, to Caiaphas.
Their houses were probably not far apart. It is even sur
mised that they occupied apartments in the same building.
The Temple was near at hand. The judgment-hall of Pilate
was in a tower built on the same rock-platform with the Tem
ple, and overlooking it. The hill of execution was just out
side the city gates. Thus the events which we are about to
narrate all took place on a stage whose radius was probably
not more than half a mile.
Word was at once sent to the members of the Sanhedrim.
Twenty-three were required to constitute a court. In the
mean while, Caiaphas submitted Jesus to a preliminary ex
amination. The Jewish law knew nothing of the merciful provision
which forbids a prisoner from criminating himself. On the
contrary, it was customary to subject him to an examination
analogous to that practiced at a later day in the Inquisition.
Witnesses were concealed behind a screen, who reduced his
words to writing. He was then called upon to answer the
questions of the judge. Such questions Caiaphas now ad
dressed to Jesus. The past failures of his party to entrap
this seemingly simple-minded Rabbi might have taught him
* John xi., 50.

442 THE COURT OF CAIAPHAS. [Chap. XXXII.
the certain failure of this plan. Jesus declined to give any
information as to his disciples. As to his doctrine, he refer
red Caiaphas to the audiences who had listened to his teach
ing in the Temple. One of the attendants, indignant at the
calm but invincible dignity of Jesus, struck him a blow with
the palm of his hand. He justified this act under the pre
tense that Jesus had insulted Caiaphas. Jesus simply replied
that, if he had done wrong, he should be convicted of it upon
a fair trial ; if not, he should not be smitten without trial.*
While these events were transpiring, Peter had gained ac
cess to the palace. John, who was known to the high-priest,
obtained admission for him. The house of the Jew was built,
as already described, around an open square. An arched
gateway, leading under and through the house, admitted to
the court-yard in the centre. In one of the apartments open
ing out from this court-yard the examination of Jesus was
being held. The night was cold. The servants had kindled
a little fire in a brazier in the centre of the court. Peter
drew up to the group to warm himself. Unrecognized and
emboldened, he at length sat down among them.
By this very act he unconsciously identified himself with
the enemies of Jesus. It was an act full of moral danger.
Doubtless his heart was full of anxiety. He desired to be
near his Lord. But this was not all. His curiosity was pre
sumptuous. His pride of character was strong. He had sol
emnly protested that he would never forsake Jesus. Christ
had piqued his pride by the declaration that he would deny
him. He desired to show his courage, partly to assure his
Lord, more perhaps to assure himself.
It was the same spirit of almost bravado that made him
ask permission to walk upon the wave.
It is true, John was also in the palace ; but John's position
was very different. He was not incognito. He was known
to the high-priest and to his servant. In the palace he was
still a professed' disciple. * John xviii., 19-24.

Fit, Apr. 7.] PETER'S DENIAL. 443
Something in Peter's mien betrayed his restless conscious
ness that he was out of place. The maid who had admitted
him, with a woman's quick intuition, perceived it. She ob
served him narrowly for a few moments, then communicated
her suspicions to the rest. This man, said she, as well as
John, is one of the Galilean disciples. Ready audacity does
not always carry with it ready wit. Peter, utterly unpre
pared for this — for which he should have prepared himself ere
he ventured into the palace — saw no way out of his dilemma
but by a lie. He used it. I know him not, said he. At the
same time, he made as though he was warm enough, and un
easily retreated to the arched entrance of the palace. Here
he could still watch the issue of the trial. The glare of the
fire was no longer on his face. In the darkness he trusted to
escape detection. But he who begins by concealing his prin
ciples is usually sure to end with denying them.
Among the Temple police who were loitering here one
thought he recognized him ; but Peter again repeated his de
nial, and by the mere strength of his asseveration quieted for
the time the officer's suspicions.
Meanwhile the eastern sun began to speck the spires of Je
rusalem with gold. Already, from the gardens on the dis
tant hill, the crowing of a cock had come faintly echoed over
the city walls, a signal that might have served to remind Pe
ter of his master's warning ; but he had quite forgotten it.
In the impulses of the moment, he forgot, too, tbe hazards of
his situation — forgot his provincial dialect, joined in the con
versation of the servants, perhaps defended his master, whose
arrest could hardly fail to have been the topic of their con
versation, till in the dawning light of day his unmistakable
face was a third time recognized, now by a friend of Malchus;-
whose head had so narrowly escaped the sword. His impet
uous denials, now vehemently repeated, fortified though they
were by oaths, only confirmed the suspicions of the servants.
They recognized his Galilean accent. " Thy speech betray-
eth thee," said they.

444 THE COURT OF CAIAPHAS. [Chap. XXXII.
A second time the crowing of the cock from the distant
garden was heard in the silent air. At the same moment,
Jesus, led forth to his formal trial in the council-chamber,
cast upon his disciple a look full of tender reproach.
In that instant the scenes of the night passed in vision be
fore unhappy Peter — his master's words of warning ; his own
words of boastful self-assurance ; his slumber in the garden ;
his impetuous and worse than useless assault ; his thrice-re
peated denial of his Lord. In all that night he had brought
nothing but harm to his master's cause — added only anguish
to his heart. In that look he read the truth that no insult, no
blow from Caiaphas's servants, had so wounded Jesus as these
denials from this his most trusted friend. He thought no
more of danger — no more sought to conceal his discipleship.
He buried his face in his mantle, and hastened from the pal
ace as from a polluted spot.
" And he went out and wept bitterly."*
Meanwhile the members of the court had convened, and
the preparations for the formal trial were completed.
In tracing the judicial proceedings in the case of Jesus, the
difference between the Occidental and the Oriental forms of
procedure must not be forgotten. Then, as now, the Oriental
courts administered a singularly wild and turbulent form of
justice. The sympathies of the populace were almost with
out exception against the accused. The presumptions were
all practically, though not legally, against him. No careful
protection surrounded the person of the prisoner. Popular
indignities were showered upon him without interference
from the public authorities, often with their connivance and
assent. He was struck, spit upon, reviled, bandied roughly
to and fro. Defense and prosecution were inextricably inter
mixed. The court-room often became a perfect babel of con
tending voices, in which the loudest was the most successful.
It is indeed true that the Jewish books contain an elabo-
* Matt, xxvi., 57, 58, 69-75 ; Mark xiv., 54, 56, 66-72 ; Luke xxii., 54-
62 ; John xviii., 13-18, 25-27.

Fri., Apr. 7.] CRIMINAL CODE OF JUDAISM. 445
rate, and, on the whole, a remarkably merciful code. The
court could not be convened by night; the accused could
not be condemned on his own confession ; two witnesses were
necessary to secure sentence of death ; these witnesses must
be examined in the presence of the accused ; he had the op
portunity of cross-examination ; a perjurer was liable to the
penalty which would have been visited in case of conviction
upon the prisoner; the latter had a right to be heard in his
own defense; a verdict could not be rendered on the same
day as the trial, nor on a feast-day ; the discovery of new ev
idence, even after the preparations for execution had com
menced, entitled the condemned to a new hearing.
But it is a mistake to trace the actual history of the Jew
ish courts in the rules and precedents of their books. One
might as well attempt to form a correct conception of the
trials under Lord Jeffreys from a study of the statutes of
James IL, or the actual procedures of a Roman court from a
perusal of the Pandects of Justinian. It is the very curse of
degenerate and disordered times that laws and precedents
are set aside by passion and by partisan interest.
It was certainly so in the case of Jesus. The letter of the
law forbidding trials by night seems to have been regarded,*
but its spirit was violated by a midnight examination, and by
a final trial in the first gray twilight of early dawn. A quo
rum of the court was present, but it was convened in haste
so great, and with notice so inadequate, that at least one of
the most influential friends of Jesus seems to have had no
opportunity to participate in its deliberations, f Witnesses
were summoned, and discrepancies in their testimony were
noted ; but the just and reasonable rule requiring the con
current testimony of two was openly and almost contemptu
ously disregarded. An opportunity was formally offered Je
sus to be heard in his own behalf, but no adequate time was
afforded him to secure witnesses or prepare for his defense,
and the spirit of the court denied him audience, though its
* Luke xxii. , 63. t Luke xxiii. ,51.

446 THE COURT OF CAIAPHAS. [Chap. XXXII.
formal rules permitted him a hearing. Finally, all other
means of securing his conviction having failed, in violation
alike of law and justice he was put under oath, and required,
in defiance of his protest, to bear testimony against himself.
The law requiring a day's deliberation was openly set aside,
and with haste as unseemly as it was illegal the prisoner was
sentenced and executed within less than twelve hours after
his arrest — within less than six after the formal trial.
The location of this trial is uncertain. Many critics have
supposed that it took place in the palace of the high-priest.
But the Jewish code required all capital cases to be tried
within the Temple walls. There is no adequate reason for
supposing that this rule had yet become obsolete; and one
of the evangelists intimates that it took place in the council-
chamber.* This was a large circular saloon of stone connect
ed with the Temple. It was approached through a vestibule
and spacious hall, and was lighted from the roof.
All Jewish trials were open to the public. Already a
gathering crowd of Judeans, assembling about this council-
chamber, filled up the vestibule and hall, and peered in at
the open door. Through this constantly-increasing multi
tude Jesus was led by the Temple guards. It was the germ
of the mob. This crowd, not the Sanhedrim within, were
really to pronounce the verdict in his case.
Within, the judges, summoned in haste by messengers from
the high-priest, were already gathered. Along one side of
its naked walls of stone a score or so of them were ranged.
The high-priest, in his robe of state, occupied the centre of
this semicircle. His head was crowned with a turban of
blue, inwrought with gold. On his bosom hung the priestly
breastplate, in which glittered twelve precious stones, em
blems of the twelve tribes of Israel. A flowing robe of blue,
gathered about his waist by a girdle of purple, scarlet, and
gold embroidery, enveloped his person, and set off the pure
white linen of his capacious sleeves. The buttons of this
* Luke xxii., 66.

Fri., Apr. 7.] THE TRIAL COMMENCED. 447
costly robe were onyx stones. His slippered feet were half
concealed beneath the long fringe of his pontifical vest
ments, which were curiously embroidered with pomegran
ates in gold, and scarlet, and crimson. No Roman Catholic
pontiff ever wore robes more resplendent than those in which
the high-priest was attired on public and state occasions.
Immediately before him sat the scribes or clerks of the
court. The one on his left hand wrote down whatever tes
timony was adduced against the accused, what votes were
cast for his condemnation. The one on the right transcribed
what appeared in his favor.
The latter, on this occasion, had a leisure time.
The circumstances were all adverse to the prisoner at the
bar. On the one side sat the Sanhedrim. It consisted of a con
vocation of the wisest, the most honored, and the most learn
ed men of the realm. It embraced leading representatives
of the three orders of society — chiefs of the priestly courses,
Rabbis learned in the literature of the Church, and elders
chosen from among the most influential of the laity. It re
ceived the combined respect which a citizen pays to the er
mine, and a churchman to the lawn. It was to Palestine
what the high court of Parliament is to Great Britain. Trac
ing its history back to the days of Moses, claiming him as
the first presiding officer in its councils, it received whatever
of reverence attaches in the popular estimation to antiquity,
whatever of awe invests institutions divine in origin.
On the other side stood this single Galilean Rabbi, pale
and exhausted with the night of conflict and of watching,
unfriended and alone. If on that bench he had a single
friend, he had not one who, in that hour, had the courage to
avow that friendship and advocate his cause.
It was about 4 o'clock in the morning of the 7th day of
April, A.D. 34,* when this state trial, the most momentous in
the history of the world, commenced.
* That is, supposing Christ to have been born in the year one of the Chris-

448 THE COURT OF CAIAPHAS. [Chap. XXXII.
The high-priest, at once chief justice and public prosecu
tor, opened the case and presented the accusation. No rec
ord of the charges have been preserved by the evangelists ;
but their spirit, if not their form, is to be found in later Rab
binical literature-
It was charged that he was a preacher of turbulence and
faction ; that he flattered the poor and inveighed against the
rich ; that he denounced whole cities, as Capernaum, Beth
saida, Chorazin ; that he gathered about him a rabble of
publicans, harlots, and drunkards, under a mere pretense of
reforming them ; that he subverted the laws and institutions
of the Mosaic commonwealth, and substituted an unauthor
ized legislation of his own ; that he disregarded not only all
distinctions of society, but even those of religion, and com
mended the idolatrous Samaritan as of greater worth than
the holy priest and pious Levite ; that, though he pretended
to work miracles, he had invariably refused to perform them
in the presence and at the request of the Rabbis of the
Church ; that he had contemned the solemn sanctions of
their holy religion, had sat down to eat with publicans and
sinners with unwashen hands, had disregarded the obliga
tions of the Sabbath, had attended the Jewish feasts with
great irregularity or not at all, had declared that God could
be worshiped in any other place as well as in his holy Tem
ple, had openly and violently interfered with its sacred serv
ices by driving away the cattle gathered there for sacri
fice ; and, above all, that he had been guilty of the most
heinous crime known to Jewish law — blasphemy— by assert
ing of himself that he was the contemporary of Abraham,
the Lord of David, the superior of Solomon, the Son, even, of
God. Such are, in substance, the counts in the indictment which
later Jewish writers present against Jesus. Unable to re-
tian era. If, as is now more generally supposed, he was born four years ear
lier, this date should of course be A.D. 30. See Chronological Note at close
of the Preface.

Fri., Apr. 7.] PERJURY. 449
cord the words, they doubtless fairly represent the animus
of the tribunal they defend.*
This indictment Jesus received in patient silence. Not be
fore this tribunal, but before God and the future he alone
would plead. History may Safely imitate his reserve. It
records the indictment of his foes. It leaves his life to an
swer it.
The case proceeded. The ministry of Jesus had been
chiefly in the outlying districts of Galilee and Perea. It had
been one of singularly commingled boldness and caution —
boldness in the truths he uttered, caution in the methods of
his utterance. He never publicly proclaimed himself the Mes
siah. He forbade the evil spirits from announcing his char
acter, f He received the confession of his disciples, but re
fused to permit them to repeat it to others. J Interrogated
by the Jews whether he was the Christ, he had refused a di
rect reply, and had referred them to his works. § He had giv
en the same response to the public questioning of John's dis
ciples. In most of his later ministry he had veiled his mean
ing in parables, which revealed the truth to honest inquirers,
but hid it from his foes. " Probably no two witnesses could
be found out of the ranks of the disciples who had ever heard
out of his own lips an avowal of his Messiahship."||
Judas might probably have been produced; but the un
supported testimony of Judas would have been of no avail.
One witness was no better than none.
To a corrupt priesthood perjury is no crime in a holy cause.
It was common then, as now, in the Orient ; and the severe
penalties which Moses had provided failed to invest the oath
with the sacred sanction which attaches to it in our courts of
justice. False witnesses, therefore, appeared to sustain the
accusation of the priestly prosecutors. But in the haste of
tnat night they had no time to compare notes and make up
* See Goldstein's Jesus of Nazareth, and Salvador's Trial and Condemna
tion of Jesus, passim. t Mark i., 34. X Matt, xvi., 20.
§ John x., 24. II Andrews's Life of Christ, p. 501.

450 THE COURT OF CAIAPHAS. [Chap. XXXII.
their case. Discrepancies were noticed in their testimony —
discrepancies so great that even this court could not pass
them by.
The prisoner had, indeed, no advocate. Attorneys were
unknown to Jewish jurisprudence. But in the informalities
of its primitive procedure, any one might interrupt a witness
or offer a suggestion to the court on behalf of the accused.
And Jesus was not wholly without friends. Some members
even of the court in secret believed in him,* and doubtless
watched the progress of the trial with beating hearts, secret
ly anxious for his acquittal, secretly laboring for it.
As every thing was put upon the record by the scribes,
these discrepancies were carefully recorded. The court dared
not disregard them. Only one of these testimonies has been
preserved as a sample of the rest. On expelling the traders
from the Temple, Jesus had prophesied that the priests would
destroy that Temple by their corruptions, and he had prom
ised to rebuild it in new glory by his resurrection. Two
witnesses, distorting this prophecy of ruin and promise of res
toration, testified that Jesus had threatened himself to raze
the sacred edifice, that he might display his power by re-erect
ing it. This meaningless boast, if it had been uttered, would
have afforded but a sorry basis for a charge of blasphemy.
No court could pronounce judgment on such testimony.
Unproved accusations always react on the accuser. These
were the last witnesses of the high-priest. Caiaphas, angered
by the failure of his testimony — angered not less by the calm
silence of the prisoner, endeavored to conceal his vexation
by an assumption of confidence. He closed the case for the
prosecution, and called on the prisoner for his defense.
" Answerest thou nothing ?" he cried. " What is it these
men testify against thee ?"
Jesus made no reply. By his silence he testified his con
tempt for charges so baseless, sustained by evidence so incon
clusive. * John xii. , 42.

Fri., Apr. 7.] CHRIST'S TESTIMONY TO HIMSELF. 451
Then at length the crafty priest resorted to an expedient
as bold as it was illegal. By that expedient he publicly ac
knowledged the inconclusiveness of the testimony he had pro
duced, and unwittingly confessed his faith in the sincerity of
Jesus. In solemn language he addressed the prisoner at the
bar. He administered to him the Jewish oath. He demand
ed that under the sanction of that oath he testify himself con
cerning his character and his mission.
" I adjure thee by the living God," he cried, " that thou tell
us whether thou be the anointed one — the Son of God."
By that act the prosecutor and the prisoner changed places.
The prisoner became judge ; the judge an accused, who, from
that moment, has never ceased to plead at the bar of public
opinion for this prostitution of his judicial office.
For this act was as illegal as it was unjust. It not only
violated that plain precept of universal justice that a prisoner
shall not be required to criminate himself; it contravened
the specific provision of the Jewish code, which forbade that
any prisoner should be condemned upon his own confession.
Now, for the first time, Jesus spoke — spoke to offer a dig
nified protest against this violation of law and contempt of
justice. " If I answer," said he, " ye will not believe. If I ask you,
ye will not answer. If I defend myself, ye will not let me go."
It is idle to inquire what might have been the issue of this
trial if Jesus had made no other reply. It was the divine
purpose that he should lay down his life. It was in accord
ance with that purpose that he should furnish the testimony
for his own conviction.
" Nevertheless, I say unto you that hereafter ye shall see
the Son of man sitting on the right hand of the power of God',
and coming in the clouds of heaven."
Not only before the bar of public opinion, before the bar of
God this court must answer for this day's proceedings.
Instantly and angrily a score of voices repeated the high-
priest's question. The lawful protest of the prisoner was

452 THE COURT OF CAIAPHAS. [Chap. XXXII.
overborne. His appeal to justice and to legal precedent was
contemptuously disregarded.
"Art thou the Son of God?" they cried.
That moment was a crisis in the world's history. In the
vestibule, before the servants, with many an oath, Peter had
denied his master. In the council-room, before the high-
priest, under judicial oath, Jesus proclaimed his mission.
" I am !"
The moment was one of sublime significance. This simple
utterance constitutes the most weighty of all scriptural testi
mony to the divine mission and character of Jesus. It was
no hyperbole of Oriental rhetoric; was spoken in no impas
sioned address. It is Christ's solemn testimony to himself,
uttered at the most momentous crisis of his life, under the
solemn sanction of an oath, in the course of judicial proceed
ings, in the presence of the highest council of the realm, in the
far more sacred presence of God and his recording angels, at
the peril of his life, and with a clear comprehension of the
meaning which not only priest and people would attach to
it, but with which it would be forever invested by humanity,
crowding for centuries as spectators around this trial-scene.
If it had not been true, it would have been blasphemy. If
Jesus were not the Son of God, he would have been worthy
of the death that was pronounced upon him.
The moral dignity of Jesus can hardly fail to have pro
duced a momentary effect. It was neutralized by the impas
sioned but indecorous violence of the high-priest. With well:
affected horror he rent his pontifical robes. With vehemence
he demanded the instant sentence of the court. "What need
have we of further testimony ?" cried he ; " ye yourselves have
heard his blasphemy. What think ye ?"
It is true that Jewish law forbade that any criminal be
sentenced till the third day after his trial. It is true that
the day before that sentence the court were required to
spend in fasting and deliberation. It is true that religious
ceremonial, enforcing the requirements of justice, forbade the

Fri., Apr. 7.] SENTENCE. 453
council from pronouncing the death-sentence on any national
feast-day. But passion rarely is bound by precedent ; and,
in the passions of that hour, none dared demand for the pris
oner these protections of the law. No voice dissented from
the boisterous cry of guilty. The trial, conducted in haste,
broke up in confusion. The by-standers took their cue from
the high-priest. The Temple servants — parasites of the
priests — vied with each other in heaping insults on the pris
oner. He was spit upon. He was buffeted. Some one
blindfolded him. Then the servants took turns in smiting
him, demanding that he prophesy who struck the blow. The
police who guarded him even shared in these shameful out
rages. But Jesus's patience was immovable. All this he
had already in spirit undergone.
The end was now nigh at hand. He no longer prayed that
the cup might pass from him — only that he might drink it at
a single draught.
Meanwhile the sentence of the council was borne out
through the open doors.' It was taken up and echoed by
the crowd assembled before the council-chamber. In this
crowd were incarnated the worst elements of human nature ;
intolerance of religious liberty ; hatred of the Galilean ;
wounded Judean pride ; a morbid hunger for the excitements
of an execution. The words of the judges were re-echoed by
the mob. " He is worthy of death !" These words, repeated
from man to man, rolled into a popular outcry. Borne back
through the open doors, they smote upon the ears of the
crafty priest. He perceived in this verdict of the people the
ready instrument for the execution of his purpose. Already
the elements were gathering for a storm, before which even
the Roman procurator would be compelled to bow.
For it was necessary that the sentence pronounced by the
Jew should be confirmed by the Gentile, that all the world
might be participators in the guilt of this act of Deicide.
From the court of Caiaphas history conducts us to the judg
ment-hall of Pilate.

454 THE JUDGMENT-HALL OF PILATE. [Chap. XXX ill.

CHAPTER XXXHI.
THE JUDGMENT-HALL OF PILATE.*
ADICAL changes had taken place in the political
condition of Judea during the thirty years which
had elapsed since the birth of Christ— changes to
which we have already adverted. Palestine was
no longer a kingdom ; Jerusalem was but an ec
clesiastical capital. The Holy Land, divided into independ
ent districts, had come more immediately under the military
rule of Rome. Judea was a province of the Csesars, and a
military governor who bore the very general title of procu
rator occupied the throne made vacant by the death of Her
od the Great and the deposition of Archelaus, his son. His
head-quarters were at Csesarea Palestina. This Gentile city
was the military capital of the dismantled realm. But on
great feast-days, when elements of turbulence and faction
gathered in the sacred city, Pilate came hither too, to guard
in person against the outbreaks of violence which were con
stantly threatened by the impetuous temper of the infatuated
people. It was necessary to secure this governor's sanction to the
sentence which the Sanhedrim had pronounced against Jesus
before it could be carried into effect.
It has, indeed, been a hotly-contested question among clas
sical scholars whether, by Roman law, the Jews had not the
right to inflict the death-penalty for religious offenses ; but,
whatever may have been their rights, it is certain they had
not the power. It is indeed probable that the jurisdiction
* Matt, xxvii., 1-31; Mark xv., 1-20; Luke xxiii., 1-25; John xviii.,
28-40; xix., 1-16; Acts i., 18, 19.

Fii., Apr. 7.] POWER OF THE SANHEDRIM.

455

ARCH OF THE ECCE HOMO.

of the Sanhedrim in such cases had never been officially de
termined since the demise of Herod the Great. Among the
Pharisees there was an extreme reluctance to inflict the death-
penalty. Some among them were in principle opposed to it
20

456 THE JUDGMENT-HALL OF PILATE. [Chap. XXXIII.
under any circumstances, and there is no reason to suppose
that the question of their right to inflict it had ever arisen
since the kingdom had been dismembered, and Judea had be
come a part of the real estate of the Roman emperor, admin
istered by a steward of his appointment.
It is evident, at all events, that the priests themselves were
somewhat uncertain as to their authority — were doubtful
whether their proceedings would be subjected by the Roman
governor to review, or would be at once and unquestioningly
confirmed. They hoped the latter. Retiring from the coun
cil-chamber, in which the trial had been conducted, to some
of the adjoining rooms of the Temple, or possibly removing
Jesus to another apartment, the Sanhedrim went into secret
session, nominally for the purpose of deliberating upon their
verdict before it should be formally announced, really to con
sider how they should secure its execution, and, for this pur
pose, what measures they should take to obtain the ratifica
tion of the people and the confirmation of the procurator.*
The plans which were then proposed and agreed upon will
be best indicated by the history of their fulfillment.
In the mean while Judas Iscariot had already received the
fitting price of his treachery. The second dream of his am
bition had been yet more rudely dispelled than the first. He
was an outcast from his companions. No new companion
ship opened to receive him. The very men whose hands
were busy with insults to his late master looked with undis
guised scorn on one whom they accounted a double traitor —
a traitor to Judaism in that he had joined this Galilean com
pany ; a traitor to that company in that he had betrayed
their head. The most hardened and depraved have still a
conscience that flames out against treachery, and, if the prin
ciples of human nature were the same in the first century
that they are in the nineteenth, the position of Judas in the
court of Caiaphas must have been more irksome than that of
Peter. So far from taking a leading part in this state trial,
* Matt, xxvii., 1 ; Mark xv., 1.

Fri., Apr. 7.] DEATH OF JUDAS. 457
he was not even summoned as a witness. So far from being
feted and caressed, he was an outcast and an alien. The same
sensitive pride that aided to drive him on to the perpetration
of his crime now turned upon him with fiery invectives to up
braid him for it. The infuriate court, the insulting menials,
the gathering mob, all concentrating their increasing hatred
upon the patient and unmoved figure whom he had long fol
lowed, and really loved, with such measure of affection as an
ignoble soul is capable of, added the sting of remorse to
that of self-reproach. He trembled as he saw what a fire he
had helped to. kindle; what an undying infamy he had pur
chased for himself.
Yet even in this hour he was still Judas Iscariot. His
conscience was but the ally of his self-esteem. It was be
cause he had blundered that he was conscious he had sinned.
With the same impetuous and unthinking haste which
characterized his crime, this unhappy, but yet more guilty
man, endeavored to retrieve it. He broke into the midst of '
the chamber whither the council had retired under pretense
of deciding the cause before them. Under Jewish law, as we
have said, it was never too late to proffer testimony in be
half of the accused. This testimony the apostate disciple
came to bear. He declared the innocence of the prisoner he
had betrayed. At the same time, he offered to return the
price that had been paid him for his treachery. The scornful
response of the men who had used him as their tool, and had
for him no farther service, completed the priestly payment
of his crime. Life had no longer hopes for him. The hope
which the pardoning love of Christ might have afforded, his
ignoble heart did not comprehend. The double scorn of Jew
and Galilean, the heavier burden of his own proud heart's
scorn, was a punishment heavier than he could bear ; and,
casting down the thirty shekels that had purchased the life
of Jesus at his hands, he went forth to die a death, the hor-
ribleness of which is enhanced rather than lessened to our
imagination by the mystery which enshrouds it.

458 THE JUDGMENT-HALL OF PILATE. [Chap. XXXIII.
These pious priests, too scrupulous to put such money in
the treasury of the Lord, thought it exactly fitted to procure
unconsecrated ground for the burial of Gentiles. For this
purpose it was accordingly appropriated. Thus the first-
fruits of Jesus's death were unwittingly, almost prophetical
ly applied by the Jewish priesthood to purchase for the Gen
tiles a typical resting-place.*
It was now broad daylight. The sun rises at Jerusalem,
in the month of April, about five o'clock. It could hardly
have been less than an hour high when Jesus was rebound
and led by a delegation of the Sanhedrim to the judgment-
hall of Pilate.
At the same time, some of the priests, undertaking to cre
ate a public sentiment against Jesus, if it should be necessary
in order to wrest from the Roman government a ratification
of the death-sentence, went out to mingle with the rabble,'
and circulate among them the priestly representation of the
events of the trial and the conduct of the prisoner.
Built upon the same broad platform of solid rock with the
Temple was the fortress of Antonia, which Herod, its found
er, had named in honor of his friend Antoninus. This was at
once the palace of Pilate and the barracks of his legions.
Here five hundred soldiers found commodious quarters. Its
capacious halls seemed like the streets of a little city, its
suites of rooms like independent mansions. Its polished
stones so adjoined the Temple walls that the Gentile camp
seemed a part of the Jewish sanctuary. Four towers at its
four corners gave it the appearance of a castle and the
strength of a fortress. One of these towers, lifting its head
far above the Temple walls, looked down into its broad
courts, and thus subjected all the tumultuous gatherings
there to the oversight of the hated heathen. Its gates, open
ing directly into those courts, rendered it easy, at a mo
ment's notice, to quell any disturbance which might occur
there. * Matt, xxvii., 3-10 ; Acts i., 18, 19.

Fri., Apr. 7.] JESUS BEFORE PILATE. 459
The Jewish feast-days were the Roman assizes. On these
occasions Pilate, who united the offices of judge and govern
or in one person, was accustomed to hear complaints and ad
judicate cases which had arisen during his absence from the
city. Thus the fortress of Antonia was not only palace and
barracks, it was also a court-house.
Hither the priesthood now led their prisoner. A motley
rabble followed in their trairi. To the same hill, whither the
triumphal procession had accompanied Jesus four days be
fore, a very different procession accompanied him now. Ea
ger eyes searched out this prisoner condemned to death.
Angry faces frowned hate upon him. Hoarse voices repeat
ed to one another the sentence of the court, " Guilty of
death !"
The Passover feast, commencing on Thursday evening,
lasted, as a religious rite, the whole of the following week.
The subsequent Sabbath was a high day in the Jewish cal
endar. These priests were too pious to pollute their persons
by treading on the Gentile pavement. They stopped at the
castle door. The muttered threatenings of a gathering tu
mult reached the ears of Pilate. The management of the
Jewish province was one of peculiar difficulty. To quel! an
outbreak even before it had occurred was an act of prudence.
Pilate therefore came out at their request to give them au
dience. He found a prisoner presented to him for sentence.
Military courts are rarely scrupulous about methods of pro
cedure. Pilate was hampered by no legal forms. He was an
irresponsible judge. The Roman senate would never inquire
curiously after the life of a single Jew. The fate of Jesus
was, humanly speaking, in his hands.
The Sanhedrim were not inclined to submit their proceed
ings to the revision of this heathen. How reluctantly their
national pride submitted to such humiliation is evidenced by
their later history, by the repeated attempts on the life of
the apostle Paul, by the illegal execution of the martyr Ste
phen, by the martyrdom of James, brother of Jesus, for which

460 THE JUDGMENT-HALL OF PILATE. [Chap. XXXIII.
Annas the younger, bolder, but less crafty than his brother-in-
law Caiaphas, suffered deposition. The priests at first de
clined, therefore, to report to Pilate any accusation. They
demanded a ratification without a rehearing. "If he were
not an evil-doer," said they, " we would not have delivered
him up unto thee."
But Pilate was not so sure of that. At all events, it was
not Roman justice to condemn any man unheard; and he
peremptorily declined to be responsible for the prisoner's ex
ecution without knowledge of the circumstances of the case.
"Take ye him and judge him," said he, scornfully, " according
to your law."
The priesthood were prepared for this emergency. They
presented a new indictment. A sedition had just occurred in
the city. Three prisoners were awaiting execution that very
morning for participating in these acts of violence. The
priests accused Jesus of being the ringleader of the Galilean
faction which was always foremost in these outbreaks. "We
found this fellow," they said, " perverting the nation, forbid
ding to give tribute to Csesar, and saying that he himself is
Christ, a king.
Such was their general charge. It is not difficult to con
jecture the specifications which they produced to sustain it.
Jesus had indeed always so guarded his utterances that
honest hearers could not misapprehend their meaning. He
had never been careful so to qualify them that they could
not be perverted by dishonest foes.
He had claimed to be a king. He had assumed all the pre
rogatives of royalty. He had demanded absolute and su
preme allegiance of his followers. He had promulgated laws.
He had announced himself to be the supreme and final judge
of mankind. He had organized in the heart of Caesar's prov
ince the germ of an imperishable community. He had
marched into Jerusalem attended by a multitude that hailed
him " King of the Jews." In unmistakable parable, and
more than once, he had proclaimed himself the prince royal,

Fri., Apr. 7.] JESUS A KING. 461
come to take possession of his inheritance. His little body
guard were armed with swords; and his arrest had been
finally accomplished only despite violent resistance. From
these facts, repeated in perverted and exaggerated forms, it
was easy for the priesthood to weave a charge of sedition,
plausible, and seemingly well sustained. At the same time,
they would be careful to conceal the facts that the legislation
which Jesus had promulgated was for the government of the
individual, not for the regulation of a political community ;
that he had steadfastly refused to arbitrate in civil disputes,
or to act as judge in enforcing civil law ; that first among the
precepts for the government of his spiritual community was
that of unconditional non-resistance ; that he had repeatedly
cautioned the enthusiastic multitude that his kingdom was
not of this world, and would not immediately appear ; and
that' the resistance which a single misguided follower had of
fered to his arrest was instantly rebuked, and its evil effects
miraculously cured.
As to the charge that Jesus forbade to give tribute to Cae
sar, it was not only wholly false, but in direct contradiction
to the facts.
By thus misrepresenting much that Jesus had said, adding
something and suppressing more — a method not unknown to
modern priestcraft in ecclesiastical controversies — it was not
difficult to present a case that really demanded of the proc
urator official investigation. He therefore assumed jurisdic
tion of the case, summoned Jesus within the fortress for a
quieter examination, and asked him for an explanation of
these charges.
Jesus would not defend himself before a dishonest tribunal.
But the procurator, ignorant alike of the character and mis
sion of Jesus, was really perplexed. It was his duty, to pre
vent and punish sedition. And Jesus readily vouchsafed him
the explanation he requested in a few brief but significant
words, whose meaning a paraphrase may help to make clear.
He was a king, but he was no preacher of sedition. He

462 THE JUDGMENT-HALL OF PILATE. [Chap. XXXIII.
had formed no purpose of interfering with the government
of Rome. He had no need to call witnesses. Two sufficient
evidences were before the procurator now. Who had brought
this accusation against him ? The Jews. If it had been pre
ferred by a Roman centurion, it might have been worthy of
examination. But when was it ever known that the Jewish
priesthood complained to their Gentile government of one
who sought the political emancipation of the nation ? None
knew better than Pilate how restive were the people under
the Roman yoke. The voices of the mob before the judgment-
seat crying out for Jesus's blood were unwitting witnesses of
his innocence. He was a- king, but his kingdom was not of
this world — was not, that is, formed on the principles nor
maintained by the methods of political empires. If it had
been, then surely from among the hundreds who only four
days before had accompanied him to Jerusalem, as Pilate well
knew, hailing him as their monarch, some would have been
found ready to defend his person with their lives. Not to
found a new dynasty nor to frame a new political organiza
tion had Christ come into the world, but to bear witness to
the truth. His subjects swear allegiance only to the truth —
to Jesus, because Jesus is the truth. And they only to whom
truth is of higher worth than all else comprehend his voice
and participate in his kingdom.*
Pilate half pityingly, half contemptuously replied with his
famous question, " What is truth ?" To this Roman Realist,
knowing only kingdoms that are built by the sword and ce
mented by blood, this conception of an invisible kingdom of
truth seemed but the baseless vision of a religious enthusiast.
But, though he lacked moral, he did not lack political pene
tration. It was clear this Galilean Rabbi was no rival to the
Caesars. The suspicions which he had from the first enter
tained of the motives of his old-time enemies were confirmed,
and from this brief interview he returned to the accusers of
Jesus to announce his judgment of acquittal.
* John xviii 33-38.

Fri., Apr. 7.] PILATE'S CHARACTER. 463
Meanwhile the wily priests had sedulously stimulated the
passions of the gathering populace. The city was crowded.
The early morning drew the devout Jews to the Temple
gates. The story of Jesus's trial and condemnation spread
rapidly from mouth to mouth. The new indignity which Ju
daism experienced, now perhaps for the first time, of submit
ting to a heathen tribunal the judgment of Moses's court,
stirred the always overheated blood of the impetuous Jude
ans. When the procurator came forth from his examination
of the prisoner at the bar, an excited crowd had already
gathered before his palace gate. It extended down the hill,
crowded the narrow street, reached far back into the outer
porches of the Temple— a crowd not patiently waiting the
verdict of an honored judge, but angrily indignant that he
should assume to question the authority and revise the pro
ceedings of their supreme tribunal.
It was to this audience Pilate announced his judgment of
acquittal : " I find no fault in this man."
The priesthood have never been quick to pay deference to
the civil power. The Jewish priesthood were not the ones to
set the Church an example of submission. From the calm
judgment of the procurator they appealed to the passions of
the populace. With many accusations, they demanded a re
versal of his decision. The rising clamor of a gathering mob
seconded the demand.
Then commenced a conflict in which the weak conscience
of the procurator proved no match for the strong passions of
the Jewish priests ; in which, alternately, the judge appealed
to the moral sense of the priesthood, and the priesthood to
the fears of the judge.
Alas ! the one had no moral sense ; the other had many
fears. Pilate's part in the execution of Jesus was that of a tool in
the hands of stronger natures. Several circumstances con
spired to make him a reluctant tool.
He not only despised the priests — as the man of the camp
20*

464 THE JUDGMENT-HALL OF PILATE. [Chap. XXXIII.
is but too apt to despise him of the temple — he hated them,
as a proud Roman might well hate the men who had hum
bled him. Twice in his brief term of office he had measured
lances with this same priestly party; twice their cunning
had overmatched his strength. At his inauguration he had
transferred the head of his army from Caesarea Palestina to
Jerusalem. For five days the Roman standards had floated
gayly in the streets of the Holy City ; for five days an infu
riated crowd had besieged his palace, demanding their remo
val. At length the army had yielded to the mob, and had
borne the Gentile insignia back to the Gentile city. A sec
ond time he had presumed to surround his military head
quarters in the fortress of Antonia with the Roman shields.
He had borne unmoved the imprecations of people and of
priest at this new desecration of their holy hill, nor was it
till he had received orders from Tiberius Caesar, wrested from
the emperor by the complaints of this same priesthood, that
he had taken them down again. No wonder that the Roman
pride of this twice-humiliated procurator revolted at becom
ing the instrument of these hated priests for the fulfilling of
their nefarious designs.
Nobler motives, too, mingled with the baser ones.
The Roman was a stranger to love, but worshiped rever
ently at the shrine of law. She who has given jurisprudence
to the world had not yet learned to do despite to justice. To
Pilate as a soldier the life of a single Jew was matter of in
significance ; to Pilate as a judge the life of a single subject
was sacred. His conscience was never so sensitive as when
the robes of his office were those of the bench.
Moreover, from the first, Jesus was even to Pilate's dull ap
prehension something more than a mere Jew — something,
though he knew not what. That more than royal dignity
which opened for Jesus a way through three infuriate mobs,
which disarmed the guard in the Temple of their purpose of
arrest, which drove them, back in confusion in the garden, nev
er shone more conspicuously than in the conflict before Pi-

Fri., Apr. 7.] PA TIENCE OF JESUS. 465
late's judgment-seat. The prayer of Christ's lips, " Father,
glorify thy son," was answered. The judge felt a nameless
dread in the presence of his more than earthly prisoner.
The demeanor of Jesus intensified this dread.
For in all the fearful scenes of violence which ensued, Je
sus alone was calm and unmoved — Jesus, whose life trem
bled in the decision of the hour. There are crises in which
silence is greater than any speech, and he spoke but once
after his brief preliminary examination in Pilate's hall. To
the angry accusations of the priests, to the angrier clamor
of the people, to the rude jests of Herod, to the cruel scorn
of the Roman soldiery, he interposed only an impressive si
lence. If in this silence there had been only the patient
courage of a Stoic, the old Roman would have admired it.
But even his dull head perceived something more — a certain
something, inexpressible, inexplicable.
Thus Roman pride and religious awe strengthened and
stimulated the weak and wavering conscience of the procu
rator. But he feared a tumult. He was less a soldier than a pol
itician ; less a true judge than either. He had no moral cour
age. He dared not assume responsibilities. Caiaphas had
said it is better that one man should die than that the whole
nation should perish. This argument repeated itself in Pi
late's consciousness. It was better to quell this tumult by
yielding up a single life than by sacrificing many. He for
got that justice is more than life. He forgot that noble
maxim, familiar to every Roman judge as to every American
schoobboy, " Fiat justitia ruat ccelum." This ignoble fear an
ignoble self-interest seconded. He could neither communi
cate the awe he felt to his imperial master, nor explain the
motives, inexplicable even to himself, which urged him to
suffer a mob rather than permit the unjust execution of a
single Jew.
Thus Pilate's soul was the arena of a battle fiercer than
that which waged without. He possessed neither the cour-J

466 THE JUDGMENT-HALL OF PILATE. [Chap. XXXIII.
age of virtue nor the audacity of shameless vice. At every
interview with Jesus his better nature wakened, and he re
solved to save the prisoner he dared not condemn. At every
outcry of the clamoring crowd without his baser fears van
quished his judgment, and he resolved to sentence the pris
oner he dared not acquit.
This battle he fought out alone. There was no man to
help him, and he knew not God.
He was a man of expedients. To save Jesus he resorted
to every expedient save that which could alone succeed —
courageous, manly, decisive action. A brave man would
have called out the cohort and dispersed the mob ; but Pi
late was not a brave man. He dallied, temporized, argued.
He that argues with a mob is already lost.
In the instant and clamorous accusation with which the
priesthood sought to set aside the judgment of the procura
tor, he caught the word Galilee. Jesus, then, was a Galilean.
To the tetrarch of Galilee he should be sent. Herod was a
Jew ; Pilate a Roman. Rival governors of contiguous prov
inces, political jealousy added to the bitterness of national
prejudice. Pilate, with a politician's art, seized the oppor
tunity to proffer the prisoner to Herod as a political compli
ment. It was accepted. From that day, says the evangel
ist, Pilate and Herod became friends. Thus in the very hour
of his trial Jesus broke down the party wall between Jew
and Gentile.
The palace of Herod was situated in the upper city. It
crowned Mount Zion. Across the bridge that spans the ra
vine which divides Mount Zion from Mount Moriah, Jesus
was led, accompanied by the Roman soldiery and by a dele
gation of the Sanhedrim. Herod had long been curious to
see this prophet, to hear from his own lips his doctrine, and
to witness his wondrous works. But Jesus neither spoke
nor wrought to satisfy the curious. To this murderer of
John the Baptist he had nothing to say. He never cast his
pearls before swine. Herod, in scorn of his claims, arrayed'

Fri., Apr. 7.] A WARNING.

467

him in the cast-off apparel of royalty, and sent him back to
Pilate's judgment-seat.*
To the Roman Jesus's kingdom was an unmeaning vision.
To the Jew it was an idle jest.
The popular current flowed back with the prisoner to the
Temple hill, and eddied once more about the corners of the
streets and the doorways of the palace. The demand for his
death grew momentarily louder and more instant.
Pilate resumed his judgment-seat. No longer truly gov
ernor of Judea, he plead for a reversal of the popular ver
dict. He rehearsed the results of his own examination. He
cited the judgment of Herod, descendant of their own Jewish
king. He offered to correct the errors of one whom he ad
judged as a misguided, but not criminal enthusiast. " I will
instruct him,"f said he, " and let him go." In vain. Passion
and prejudice have no ears that reason can reach.
The more intense the clamors of the populace, the more
intense were the clamors of the Roman's conscience.
At that instant occurred an incident which, however mod
ern philosophy may interpret it, was to the heathen governor
an omen from the* gods. Pilate's wife, awakened from a fear
ful dream, in which the destinies of Jesus were strangely in
termingled with their own, sent a warning message to her
husband : " Have thou nothing to do with that just man,"
she said, " for I have suffered many things to-day in a dream
because of him. "J
A dream to the Roman was like a prophet to the Jew.
Nor was the skepticism of these latter days able wholly to
resist the inheritance of earlier superstitions. Was it indeed
superstition? Or did God in mercy thus re-enforce the fal
tering conscience of the procurator ? However that may be,-*
* Luke xxiii., 6-12.
t HcuSevoaG ovv avrbv airo\iata, Luke xxiii. , 1 6. TicuSiioj is rarely trans
lated chastise, and its more general signification of instruct is more in har
mony with the narrative as well as with the Greek. It is inconceivable that
Christ was twice scourged. See Townsend's marginal note in hco.
X Matt, xxvii., 19.

463 THE JUDGMENT-HALL OF PILATE. [Chap. XXXIII.
the warning was in vain. Pilate feared the gods, but he
feared man more. He would not disregard the one, he dared
not offend the other. Compromise is a crime in cases that
demand courage. The feeble heart and fertile brain of Pilate
invented a new compromise.
Whenever a foreign governor is imposed upon a discon
tented people, the popular sentiment is always with the law
breakers. The release of a state prisoner is accepted as a to
ken of imperial benignity. The Roman government added
every year to the festivities of the paschal feast by releasing
to the people one such prisoner — whomsoever they demanded.
Of this custom Pilate sought to avail himself.
Another Jesus, surnamed Barabbas, lay in chains within the
fortress walls. " Which Jesus," cried Pilate, shall I release
unto you ?"
From a thousand voices the reply rolled up, " Away with
this man !" and " Release to us Barabbas."*
By this artifice, as unavailing as it was unmanly, Pilate in
creased the perplexities of his position. By offering to par
don Jesus he reversed his sentence of acquittal. By appeal
ing to the people he tacitly consented to accept their de
cision. With this cry now mingled for the first time another one :
" Crucify him !" It was not enough that Jesus die. Jewish
voices demanded the execution of the Jewish sentence by a
Gentile process — a process so barbarous that the Jewish code
had never known it, Jewish hands had never executed it.
For two hours Pilate had dallied with this mob. Its un
checked passions, stimulated by priestly appeal, had grown
momentarily more furious. The tumult which a few soldiers
might easily have quelled at first, had increased to serious
proportions. Angry voices caught up this cry of " Crucify
him !" and rolled it in tumultuous waves till the very hills
echoed with the sound, and nature herself seemed to join in
* Matt, xxvii., 15-23 ; Mark xv., 6-15 ; Luke xxiii., 17-23 ; John xviii.,
39, 40.

Fri., Apr. 7.] THE SCOURGING. 469
this rebellion against her Lord. Angry faces glared on the
solitary but unmoved prisoner. Angry fists outreached in
menace toward him. The feeble protestations of the defeated
procurator were drowned in the vehement outcries of the
passionate mob. Weakly he attempted to cast the blood of
this innocent man upon the people who demanded it. A myri
ad voices responded, "His blood be on us and on our children."
Vainly, in token of his innocence, he washed his hands before
them all — hands that have never ceased to be red with the
blood of the Son of God. Falteringly he pronounced the
sentence which his conscience openly condemned. Reluc
tantly he released the instigator of sedition, and delivered up
to death the Prince of Peace.*
Crucifixion was always preceded by scourging. It was an
age of iron, and society had not yet learned to discriminate
between punishment and revenge. Cruel hands disrobed the
still uncomplaining sufferer. Brawny arms wielded upon his
naked back the fearful scourge, whose thongs of leather, load
ed with sharp metal, cut at every stroke their bloody furrow
in the quivering flesh. This torture, beneath which many a
strong man had given up his life, could not extort from the
steadfast heart of Jesus a single groan. As a sheep before
his shearers is dumb, so he opened not his mouth. Then on
his lacerated body was replaced the cast-off robes of royalty.
In cruel jest, the crown of thorns was pressed upon his brow,
and a reedy sceptre placed within his hand ; and a mimicking
crowd, with many a ribald jest, paid to this true king a mock
ing reverence.f
The royalty of Jesus needed no robe, nor crown, nor cour
tier to attest it. Through all this bloody disguise that roy
alty still shone. Even the heart of the old Roman, long used
to scenes of cruelty, felt in this scene a new horror. For the
delivery of this innocent prisoner he made one new effort.
To the impatient crowd he brought forth again the object of
their hate. To this face, pale with agony and reddened with
* Matt, xxvii., 24-26. t Matt, xxvii. , 26-30.

470 THE JUDGMENT-HALL OF PILATE. [Chap. XXXIII.
drops of blood, he pointed, in the hope that his sufferings
might awaken their compassion, though his silent grandeur
had no power to touch their hearts with awe. " Behold the
man !" he cried.
In vain. He but fed the flames he would fain extinguish.
It is idle to appeal to the compassion of a mob. A mob un-
sated has no compassion. Like the lion, it but whets its ap
petite with the sight of blood.
Sadly a second time Pilate surrenders himself to the pas
sions he has not the manliness to resist. " Take ye him," he
cries, " and crucify him ; I find no fault in him."
Then at length the emboldened priests, released from their
long duplicity, reveal their first, their true indictment. "By
our law," they say, " he ought to die, because he made him
self the Son of God."
In all that crowd it was reserved for the skeptical Roman
to give any credence to that claim. This sentence gives new
interpretation to the dread which has possessed him — new
meaning to the dream whose warning he has disregarded.
This soldier's heart, unused to compassion — this skeptical
heart, unused to awe, experiences a new sensation, a strange
dread, that demands a reversal of his unjust condemnation.
Oh ! for one bold, decisive act. Instead, the pitiable proc
urator weakly resorts to one more sorry stratagem. To the
patriotism of the populace he appeals. To the thorn-crown
ed, scorn-robed Jesus he points as he cries, " Behold your
king !"
But patriotism itself is overborne by passion. The popu
lace deny their nationality, dethrone their God, accept the
Gentile sceptre. " We have no king but Caesar," the priests
reply, while they hiss out the threatening menace, " If thou
let this man go thou art not Caesar's friend."
Of all the Csesars, Tiberias was the most suspicious and
exacting. Of all crimes, that of indifference to his interests
was the worst. To his jealous judgment suspicion was evi
dence. In his tribunal accusation was equivalent to convic-

Fri., Apr. 7.] GOING TO CALVARY. 473
tion. Already, in imagination, Pontius Pilate stands before
the imperial judgment-seat ; already he perceives himself
stripped of his robes of office, degraded, dishonored, happy if
he deliver his own life. His better nature yields to unman
ly fear. For the third time he repeats the sentence of death,
now without recall, and Jesus is led away to suffer its in
fliction.* There are crises when cowardice is a capital crime. Such
a crisis was this. The crime of Pontius Pilate was the crime
of cowardice.
Even the inspired pen has not ventured to describe the
terrible conflict which rent the hearts of Christ's disciples
during this long and bitter struggle. They had certainly
witnessed it from the very beginning. One of them, at least,
had. gained access alike to the court of Caiaphas and the
judgment-hall of Pilate. His boldness was that of love, that
dares all things. They had never ceased to hope for some
strange, perhaps some supernatural deliverance. They had
waited, with beating hearts, the issue of the first trial ; had
exulted in the failure of the priestly prosecutors' case ; had
listened with reverence, yet with terror, to Jesus's testimo
ny against himself; had shuddered as they saw the rising
storm of public execration ; had borrowed new hope from
every new acquittance by the procurator, and felt a new de
spair at every new indication of his acquiescence in the de
mands of the increasing mob. The final sentence must have
fallen as a death-knell upon their hearts. The streets of
Jerusalem were no longer safe for them. The passions of
the populace they dared not face. Not till toward the con
summation of the crucifixion did they venture to the cross.
No pen can describe the anguish they must have felt as from
their temporary retreat they saw their Lord delivered into
the hands of the brutal soldiery and yet more brutal popu
lace, and watched with crushed and bleeding hearts the fear
ful procession to Calvary, the awful march to death.
* John xix., 4-16.

474 DEATH. [Chap. XXXIV,

CHAPTER XXXIV.
DEATH.*
F all the cruel punishments of a barbaric age, cru
cifixion was the most barbarous. It possessed a
bad pre-eminence of cruelty in an age when fash
ionable audiences crowded the vast amphithea
tre to applaud the fearful horrors of gladiatorial
combats, and fair women gave the death-signal, and feasted
their sanguinary eyes on the ebbing life of the defeated. It
was in this age that Cicero called crucifixion a punishment
most inhuman and shoeking,f and wrote of it that it should
be removed from the eyes, and the ears, and the every thought
of men. J Too horrible for a Roman citizen, no freeman might
be subjected to it. It was reserved, with rare exceptions, for
slaves and foreigners.
Upon this Gentile cruelty the Jew looked with special hor
ror. The cross, like the eagle, was a sign of national degra
dation. Its infliction by the Romans was a badge of Israel's
servitude.§ The ancient law of Moses affixed a peculiar curse
to it. To crucify even a corpse was to submit it to the great
est possible indignity. Thus the agony of pain was intensi
fied by the agony of its peculiar shame. ||
The physical anguish of the cross was that of a lingering
death. The victim's life was wrested from him in a fierce
* Matt, xxvii.,.32-61 ; Mark xv., 21-47; Luke xxiii., 26-56 ; John xix.,
17-42. t " Crudelissimum teterrimumque supplicium." — Cicero v. Verres.
X " Ab oculis, auribusque et omni cogitatione hominum removendum esse."
• — Cicero v. Verres, quoted in Jahn's Archaeology, § 262.
§ Josephus, Antiquities, xvii., 10, § 10 ; "Wars, ii., 12, § 6.
II Deut. xxi., 22, 23.

Fri., Apr. 7.] ANGUISH OF THE CROSS. 475
but predetermined battle, that lasted always many hours,
often several days. Every moment of this hopeless contest
added new agony to an anguish at first almost unendurable.
The form of the Latin cross is as familiar as it is sacred to
all Christendom.* The sufferer was usually bound upon it
as it lay upon the ground. The hands and feet were then
firmly nailed to the wood. Lest this fastening should prove
too frail, a transverse piece of wood just below the thigh af
forded an additional support. The cross was then elevated,
with the sufferer upon it, and fastened firmly in the ground.
In this act the body was terribly wrenched. The concussion
often dislocated the limbs. Then, hanging between heaven
and earth, the victim was left to die. The hot rays of an Ori
ental sun beat down upon his naked body and unsheltered
head. The ragged edges of his undressed wounds festered
and inflamed. From these wounds shooting pains ran along
in accelerating waves of increasing anguish. Every attempt
to secure any relief from the unnaturally constrained position
increased the torment. The blood, impeded in its circulation,
flowed in slackened and laborious currents. An increasing fe
ver consumed the body with internal fires ; the head throbbed
with anguish ; the parched lips burned with a raging thirst.
As death drew nigh, insects swarmed upon the body, and
birds of prey commenced to feast upon it before life was yet
extinct. Yet no vital organ was directly touched, and the
stubborn life surrendered to his invincible foe only after a
long and protracted siege. Even the pitiless, stolid Roman
endured not long the sight of sufferings at once so protracted
and so intense. Rarely was the criminal suffered to die by
the mere infliction of the cross. A thrust with the spear or
a blow with the club at length put an end to tortures which
wearied even the patience of spectators.f
* For illustrations of the different forms of crosses, see M'Clintock and
Strong's Biblical Cyclopaedia, art. Cross.
t For an account of the character of the sufferings of the cross, see Smith's
Bible Diet., art. Crucifixion; Jahn's Archaeology, § 262 ; Stroud's Physical

476 DEATH. [Chap. XXXIV.
To this punishment Jesus was condemned. He who came
to ransom humanity from penalty, suffered himself the most
horrible penalty which humanity, not yet educated in later
refinements of cruelty, had then invented.
The place of his execution is not known. Humanity will
never forget the scene which makes Calvary the most sacred
of all the mountains which heroism has consecrated ; but it
has already forgotten the exact locality. Golgotha now ex
ists only in the devout imagination of loving hearts. Among
all battle-fields about which men delight to gather, upon
which they delight to rear the monumental expression of
their reverential love, there is none like this ; but no monu
ment can ever mark it — no man can ever be sure that his feet
press its sacred turf. Of the founder of the new theocracy,
as of the founder of the old, it is to be said that the place of
his death no man knoweth to this day. It is true that eccle
siastical tradition designates with perfect confidence not only
the mount of crucifixion, but the street through which Jesus
passed from his trial, and the identical spot at which every
minor incident occurred; but these traditionary sites have
little to support them but the needs of monkish guides, who
trade in the too credulous reverence of Oriental travelers. It
is a singular and significant fact that history is unable to fix
with precision any of the places which the life of Christ has
made forever sacred. The manger where he was cradled, the
house where his boyhood was spent, the synagogue where he
preached his first discourse, the city consecrated by his earlier
ministry, the mount where he preached the great sermon, that
whereon he was transfigured in glory, the two halls where
his two trials were held, the hill where he was crucified, and
the sepulchre where he was buried, are hid by an impenetra
ble veil from the loving hearts that would hallow every spot
Christ has made sacred by his presence. It is better so.
Christianity has no holy place. Rather every spot on the
Cause of Christ's Death, chap. iii. , and historical cases there cited ; Burder's
Oriental Literature on Matt, xxvii., 31, and post.

Fri., Apr. 7.] SITE OF CALVARY. 477
round globe since Jesus baptized it with his blood is holy
ground.* A mournful march was that to the hill of death. Jesus,
and the two robbers with whom he was to suffer, preceded
the informal procession. They were guarded by a quater
nion of soldiers from the German legion,f under the com
mand of a centurion. A multitude of Judeans followed,
headed by a volunteer delegation of the priestly party.
These followed Jesus to the cross less to assure themselves
of the execution of the sentence than to enjoy the horrible
pleasure of witnessing its infliction.
This was the preparation of these pious prelates for the
Sabbath. It was customary to bear before the prisoner an inscrip
tion which designated the crime for which he was condemned.
This was subsequently attached to the cross, that his death
might be a warning against similar offenses. Pilate had in
the case of Jesus written this inscription with his own hand.
He wrote it in the three languages of the time— that of the
court, Latin ; that of the Gentile population, Greek ; and that
* The crucifixion was without the city walls (Burder's Oriental Customs,
vol. ii., p. 248 ; John xix., 17 ; Matt, xxviii., 11 ; Hebr. xiii., 12), probably
near a public highway (Mark xv. , 29), near the city (John xix. , 20), in the
immediate vicinity of one of the gardens which surrounded Jerusalem (John
xix-, 41), where Joseph of Arimathea had his tomb, was probably the custom
ary place of execution and a well-known spot, as is indicated by the use of
the definite article, rbv tottov tov KaXovptvov Kpaviov (Luke xxiii. , 33 ; John
xix., 17 ; see Andrews's Life of our Lord, p. 559 ; Smith's Bible Diet., art.
Golgotha) ; probably on a round-shaped hill ; this indicated by the title, the
place of a skull (Ellicott's Life of Christ, p. 317, note) ; supposed by Fergu
son to be the place now occupied by the Dome of the Rock (Smith's Bible
Diet., p. 1030) ; by Alford and Ellicott the traditional site now occupied by
the Holy Sepulchre (Ellicott's Life of Christ, p. 317, note; Alford, Matt.
xxvii., 33), a conclusion which I find it impossible to reconcile with the prob
able boundaries of the ancient city, and which is strongly impugned by Mur
ray (Hand-book for Syria and Palestine, pt. i., p. 149, § 50), Robinson (Re
searches, vol. ii. , p. 69, 80), Stanley (Sinai and Palestine, p. 451 and post), An
drews (Life of our Lord, p. 567), all of whom agree with the conclusion stated
in the text, that it is impossible to fix on the location with any accuracy or
confidence. t John xix., 23, and Olshausen thereon.

478 DEATH. [Chap. XXXIV.
of the Jews, Hebrew, or rather Aramaic. In this respect it
resembled all the official notices of the day — those, for exam
ple, posted in the Temple courts. The inscription read, " Je
sus of Nazareth, king of the Jews."* This covert raillery
against the imperial pretensions of the Jewish nation form
ed doubtless the subject of many a rude jest among the sol
diery. The priesthood felt keenly the humiliation, as the
adroit politician meant they should, and begged him to
change it ; but Pilate, with the obstinacy of a weak nature
that yields great principles and is pertinacious of details, re
fused. With seeming egotism he replied, "What I have
written I have written, "f
As the procession passed out of the city gates they met a
Jewish pilgrim from Africa coming in. The soldiers im
pressed him into their service, and compelled him to bear
the cross. The reason for their doing so is not stated ; but
Jesus had neither slept nor eaten for twenty-four hours, and
the surmise is reasonable which asserts that, faint from want
of food and loss of blood, his trembling limbs refused longer
to support their heavy burden. This simple incident has
given an enviable name to this Simon of Cyrene, of whom
history records nothing more than that in this hour of horrors
he was permitted to afford some relief to Jesus. J
Some Judean women mingled in the train which followed
Christ, and lamented his sad fate with the usual forms of
Jewish mourning. Beating upon their breasts, they filled
* John xix. , 1 9, 20, and Alford thereon. The inscription is differently re
ported by the different evangelists. This difference, difficult, if not impossi
ble to reconcile with any theory of verbal inspiration, strengthens rather
than detracts from the reliability of the account, if the evangelists are sup
posed to have been left, in minor details, to their own recollection-. Towns-
end (N. T, part vii., n. 24), and apparently Andrews (Life of Our Lord, p.
539), suppose these to be verbatim translations of the different inscriptions.
Contra Alford (N. T., Matt, xxvii., 37), Robinson (Harmony, § 15, note),
Greenleaf (Testimony of the Four Evangelists, § 1 53, note).
t John xix., 20-23.
X Matt, xxvii., 31, 32; Mark xv., 20, 21 ; Luke xxiii., 26. Compare
Romans xvi., 13;

Fri., Apr. 7.] LAMENTATION OF THE WOMEN. 479
the air with loud and ostentatious outcries.* Possibly his un
shaken fortitude appealed to their sympathies. More proba
bly, ignorant of the secret cause of his condemnation, and
seeing only the inscription which was carried before him, they
mourned this new shame put by Gentile hands upon their
nation. It is certain that these daughters of Jerusalemf were
not disciples of Christ, since among the Judeans he had few if
any disciples — none, certainly, who dared openly lament him.
Roman law forbade such lamentations for a criminal. Judea
alone possessed even the poor privilege of affording him a
decent burial. Usually the body was left to decay upon the
cross, as at a later period in England the corpse of the high
wayman was suffered to hang upon the gibbet, a ghastly but
ineffectual warning to evil-doers. But it is not in the power
of law to restrain the sympathies of women. The tears of
these unexpected mourners touched the heart of Jesus. He
forgot his own sufferings in the reflection that they would
live to see the day when from a thousand crosses erected by
the legions of the Roman general around the walls of the
doomed city a thousand Jewish corpses would hang in ghast
ly array, and when from the thundering hosts marching over
these same hills for its destruction these mothers and their
now infant babes would vainly seek refuge in cellars and sub
terranean vaults, and beneath falling ruins. " Weep," said he,
with touching pathos, " not for me — weep for yourselves and
your children."J
This sentence he still repeats. Christ is not an object of
commiseration. It is a shallow heart which simply weeps
tears of sentiment over the agony of the cross. Calvary de
mands not tears of pity for the sorrows of Jesus, but tears of
gratitude for the love of Christ, and of penitence for the sins
that slew him.
Arrived at the place of execution, for the first time this
* 'EicoirrovTO Kal kfp-qvovv avrov, Luke xxiii., 27. t Luke xxiii., 28.
X Luke xxiii. , 28-3 1 . For an account of the fulfillment of this prophecy,
see Josephus, Wars, v., 11 ; vi., 8, 9.
21

480 -D-EA TH. [Chap. XXXIV.
scene of accumulated horrors was alleviated by an act of hon
est but mistaken mercy. An association of women was or
ganized in Jerusalem to alleviate the sufferings of condemned
criminals, the germ of the innumerable associations which in
later days have relieved the necessary and inexorable punish
ments of society from the aspects of revenge. They accom
panied the accused to the place of crucifixion, and prepared
and proffered to him a drink of acid wine mingled with
myrrh. This beverage acted as a sort of anodyne, and, blunt
ing the senses, rendered the anguish of death more endurable.
For this act they thought they found a command in the pre
cept of Solomon : " Give strong drink unto him that is ready
to perish, and wine unto those that be of heavy hearts."*
This draught was proffered to Jesus before he was nailed
to the cross, perhaps by the very women who had bewailed
his death. f He declined to receive it. He would not meet
death with a stupefied soul. He demanded that all his pow
ers should be alert in these last moments.
With no gentle hands the stolid soldiers proceeded to the
execution of the sentence. Christ was once more disrobed
of his. garments ; a linen cloth was put about his loins ; he
was extended upon the cross; the nails were then driven
through the hands and feet, and the cross itself was elevated
with the sacred sufferer upon it. At this moment of anguish
was wrung from his lips a cry for mercy — not for himself, but
for his executioners. The blows that sent the quivering an
guish thrilling through his nerves only awakened a new ut
terance of his unabated love : " Father," he cried, " forgive
them, for they know not what they do."|
There was not probably on that hill one who realized the
full significance of the sublime yet terrible act in which they
* Proverbs xxxi., 6.
t There seems' on the whole no adequate reason for supposing that it was
offered more than once, or in a spirit of cruel scoffing. The wine and myrrh
(Mark xv., 23), and vinegar and gall (Matt, xxvii., 34), probably are the.
same. . See Andrews's Life of Christ, p. 536. Contra, Alford in hco.
X Luke xxiii., 34.

Fri., Apr. 7.] " STOLIDITY OF THE SOLDIERS. 481
were engaged. To the Roman soldiers Jesus was simply a
Galilean zealot ; to the Judeans, a blasphemer against their
holy religion ; to the priesthood, a religious enthusiast. It is
doubtful whether even the faith of his disciples was able to
endure the test of this dreadful hour. This interceding prayer
is limited to no class and to no time. It is Jesus's own inter
pretation of the cross. From this sacred mount this interces
sion of his love — " Father, forgive," goes on still sounding
through the centuries, never to cease so long as sin needs sac
rifice for its atonement.
On the soldiers this prayer made absolutely no impression.
The clothing of the criminals was a perquisite of the guards.
They sat down coolly and began to divide their booty. They
had a flask of wine with them, of which they drank from time
to time. The tunic of Jesus was a seamless robe, woven
probably of woolen, and apparently of fine texture. It is
hardly too much to surmise that it may have been the work
of some of the loving hands of the women that ministered to
him in Galilee. They were reluctant to rend it. Some one
proposed that they play for it. One of the company pro
duced his dice, the Roman substitute for modern cards, and
they began their game. Nothing could more significantly
indicate the singular insensibility of these soldiers than this
scene of gambling beneath the very shadow of the cross.* ,
A little way from them was a very different group. Some
heroic hearts beating beneath womanly bosoms were wit
nesses of this scene of suffering. Among them was Jesus's
own mother. With a true mother's heart, she was scarce
able to endure the sight, but still less able to withdraw from
it. She was supported by her nephew, Jesus's most tried
and trusty friend. Through all' the scenes of the dreadful
night and yet more dreadful day, John had not been far dis
tant from his Lord. To this group Jesus directed his eyes.
The anguish of the mother, who now realized the prophe
cy uttered thirty years before — " Yea, a sword shall pierce
* Matt, xxvii., 35, 36 ; Mark xv., 24 ; Luke xxiii., 34 ; John xix., 23, 24.

482 DEATH. [Chap. XXXIV.
through thy own soul also,"* touched his heart — that heart
which no anguish of his own could move. In faltering ac
cents he commended the broken-hearted mother to the un
swerving friend: "Woman — behold — thy son. Son — be
hold — thy mother."f
If any one were entitled to the rank of primacy in the
Church of Christ, this incident would bestow it upon John,
thus appointed to the place of Jesus.
Christ's uncomplaining fortitude only irritated his priest
ly persecutors. Calmness always exasperates the enraged.
They attempted to provoke by taunts some response from his
hitherto sealed lips. They derided his claim to be the Son
of God, and mockingly declared that if he would come down
from the cross they would then believe in him. Pilgrims
passing to and from the city through one of the great thor
oughfares which led by the hill of execution joined in these
taunts. They repeated derisively one of his prophecies, dis
torted to serve their purpose — " Thou that destroyest the
Temple and buildest it in three days, save thyself," they
cried. The soldiers, too, made merry over his royal preten
sions. J
Among these taunts there was one which must have stung
even his calm heart. It was openly and scornfully asserted
that God had deserted him. Doubtless not only to these
mocking priests, but to all the people, in some measure to
the disciples themselves, this seemed true. That dishonor
should thus be brought on the name of his Father must
have touched him no less keenly than the similar reproaches
of those who scornfully asked David in his trouble, Where
is now thy God? But he made no response. To every
taunt, as to every accusation, he still interposed the same
sublime silence.
On the other hand, one of these jibes was an unconscious
testimony to the unselfishness of his love. "He saved oth-
* Lukeii.,35. t John xix. , 26, 27.
X Matt, xxvii., 39-44; Mark xv., 29-32 ; Luke xxiii., 35-37.

Fri., Apr. 7.] THE PENITENT THIEF. 483
ers," cried the jesting priests, " himself he can not save."
This, alas ! was true. Only by sacrificing himself could Je
sus save mankind.
Though thus apparently insensitive to reproach, his heart
responded instantly to any appeal for help. Two robbers, it
is said, were crucified with Jesus. Of their history little is
known. It is certain that they were brigands* rather than
thieves. The indications are that they were Galilean zeal
ots, believed in a coming Judaic kingdom, made their patri
otism a cover for robbery and murder, and had finally been
arrested and condemned for participation in an outbreak in
Jerusalem itself. One of these men, in that spirit of bravado
which often characterizes the lower class of criminals, joined
in the mockery with the multitude. " If," said he, " you are
the Messiah, save both yourself and us, your friends and com
rades." The other had a real, though doubtless ignorant
faith in a future kingdom. Indignant at the implication
that Jesus was a ringleader in these scenes of violence, he
rebuked his comrade in crime. He bore witness to his own
guilt and to Jesus's innocence. At the same time, he appeal
ed to Jesus to remember him when he came into his king
dom. His contrition was not very deep nor his faith very
intelligent, but he showed a real regret for his past life, a
real desire for something better. Jesus demanded nothing
more. He had received in silence the taunts of the one ;
he instantly responded with a promise of pardon and re
demption to the appeal of the other. " To-day," said he,
" shalt thou be with me in Paradise. "f
Thus slowly rolled the hours of agony away — hours in
which every moment seemed an age. To the waiting disci
ples it must have seemed as though the miracle of Moses
was repeated, and the sun was supernaturally halted in the
heavens to prolong the anguish of their dying Lord. But
he never complained. No word, no murmur escaped his
lips. Once only he spoke of his thirst. A soldier, more com-
* Greek oi Xyarai, Matt, xxvii., 44. t Luke xxiii., 39-43.

484 DEATH. [Chap. XXXIV.
passionate than his fellows, dipped a sponge in the sour wine
which they were drinking and put it to his lips.* This was
just before his death.
Meanwhile a new element of horror was added to the
scene. Three hours Jesus had been upon the cross, and the
sun had but just passed the zenith, when a preternatural
night seemed to gather over Calvary. Dark masses of wa
terless clouds gathered slowly, and, filling the air with a
murky darkness, gradually obscured the sun. A supernatu
ral twilight clothed every thing in an awe-inspiring indis
tinctness. The silent birds hurried, stricken with strange
fear, to their nests. In the neighboring city the lamps were
lighted at midday. The Temple service ceased, or was car
ried on amid a gloom that added intensity to its deep so
lemnity. A heavy atmosphere oppressed the lungs with a
strange sense of suffocation. That singular feeling of hope**-
less insecurity which always precedes the earthquake op
pressed all hearts.f In groups the people gathered to speak
in subdued tones of the meaning of this evil portent. Per
haps even now and then the listening ear caught the mutter
ed thunder of the earth in travail, a sound more solemn and
awe-inspiring than the loudest peal of heaven's artillery.
And still, amid the gathering gloom, these three figures hung
in solemn silence — the taunts of the people hushed, the dice
of the boisterous soldiers laid aside. And still John and his
adopted mother watched with patient and unfearing, but
awe-stricken hearts, what the end might be. J
A heavier, darker shadow fell on the heart of Jesus. Once
more the sins of a whole world were laid upon his shoulders,
and borne in silent grief by his struggling heart. Once more
* John xix., 28, 29. See Alford's note thereon.
t For an indication that this darkness was a premonition of an approach
ing earthquake, see Matt, xxvii., 51. For evidence that such a phenomenon
often accompanies earthquakes, see Stroud on the Physical Cause of the
Death of Christ, note vi., p. 420-446.
X John xix. , 35 is a sufficient evidence that they did not leave the scene
till after Jesus's death.

Fri., Apr. 7.] "IT IS FINISHED." 485
the prayer of his soul seemed to fail in its upward flight.
Bearing in his own heart the burden of our sins, he suffered
in that moment the inevitable penalty, banishment from the
presence of that Father in whom he trusted. The bitter con
flict of the garden was fought again — fought alone ; fought
at an hour when exhausted nature no longer had the power
to sustain the soul in its terrible agony. In that moment the
whole battle of his life culminated in one concentrated, but
short and decisive struggle. The heart that had borne un
moved all that the hate of man could heap upon him, beat
quick with anguish in this crisis, when, bowed down by the
burden of human guilt, and environed by an indescribable
spiritual darkness, it seemed as though the taunts of his foes
were true, and his heavenly Father had indeed abandoned
him. From the lips from which no mortal pain could ex
tort a single groan, this more than mortal, this inexplicable
agOny of a sin-pierced soul wrung a cry of commingled faith
and despair — "My God! my God! why hast thou forsaken
me ?" This burden was more than the heart, already overtax
ed with mental anguish, could bear. A sudden sense of
faintness proclaimed to him that release had come at last.
The quickened pulsation of that moment of concentrated
agony had sundered the heart-strings of the Savior of man
kind. With a voice clear and full to the last, he proclaimed
his victory over death, his completion of his divine mis"sion
of suffering love: "It is finished." In a prayer of victorious
faith he commended his spirit to the keeping of his heavenly
Father. Then his head drooped upon his breast, and all was
over.* It was three o'clock — the hour of the evening sacrifice.
At the same moment the long-presaged earthquake came.
The earth trembled as in repressed horror. Rocks were cleft
in twain as with a knife. Graves opened, and some slumber
ing dead came forth. The Temple itself felt the shock that
* Matt, xxvii., 45-50 ; Mark xv., 33-37 ; Luke xxiii., 44 46 ; John xix.,
28-30.

486 DEA TH. [Chap. XXXIV.
foretold its mission ended and its hour of destruction come.

and the veil which hid the Holy of Holies from the common
gaze was rent from top to bottom. Then the sun, breaking
through the clouds, looked down with a smile of heaven's
love upon the scene of crucifixion, and bathed in a glory that
time has never dimmed the silent form of the victorious suf
ferer. The priests had already left the hill of execution. The
centurion and. the soldiers alone remained. Awe-stricken
not less by the sublimity of Christ's death* than by the su
pernatural portents which accompanied it,f they testified
their sense of his divinity even in his death by the public
but tardy confession, " Truly this was the Son of God."
When, an hour or two later, the soldiers, in compliance
with the commands of the procurator, proceeded to put an
end to the lingering tortures of the condemned, Jesus was
evidently dead. The guard, under Roman law, answered for
their prisoners with their life. To prevent the possibility of
error, one of the soldiers thrust his spear into Jesus's side.
Clots of extravasated blood and water flowed from the
wound. The heart, already weakened by the agony in the
garden, had broken beneath the greater. agony of Calvary.
It was not the protracted anguish of the cross that slew
Jesus. Rarely, if ever, did the victim of crucifixion perish in
less than twenty-four hours. It was not the spear-thrust of
the soldier. He was then already dead. It was the inex
plicable anguish of bearing the feins of the whole world. Ex
hausted by the vigils of the night before, the spiritual agony
of that hour seems to have ruptured his heart. Literally, it
was the sins for which he was sacrificed that slew him. Lit
erally, he died at last of a broken heart.J
Joseph of Arimathea, a wealthy and honored member of
the Sanhedrim, hitherto a secret disciple of Jesus, but after
his death a disciple in secret no longer, demanded the body
* Mark xv., 39. t Matt, xxvii., 54.
X John xix., 34. See note at end of this chapter.

THE MAKTS AT THE TOMB.

Fri., Apr. 7.] MARYS AT THE TOMB. 489
of his Lord from Pilate. The procurator, surprised to learn
that Jesus was already dead, readily granted the request.
The councilor's summer garden was near the place of exe
cution. His family tomb was in the midst of it. It had
never been used. The body of Jesus was taken from the
cross, partially, but of necessity hurriedly prepared for buri
al, and laid here to rest over the Sabbath.
As the twilight of that Friday evening gathered over this
garden, the moon looked down upon two veiled figures,
mourners of their Lord — Mary Magdalene, and Mary, mother
of Jesus.* The one loved him with the ardor of a mother's
heart, the other with the ardor of one rescued from a living
death by his all-powerful words. They had accounted him
the Lord of glory. They had seen him crowned only in de
rision, and had followed him only to the tomb. They sat
weeping at his grave. Their perplexed faith had no illumi
nation of hope to offer to their desolated hearts. Religion
itself had for them, in this hour of their Master's death, no
consolations. And late into the night these silent friends,
bound together closer than ever in the companionship of a
common woe, sat weeping at the grave of their Lord the
tears of an irremediable grief.
To them the life of Jesus was ended. Really his life now
truly began; for the Cross signalizes the advent of that im
mortal life of love upon earth which will never cease its sway
so long as men have hearts to answer to the touch of infinite
divine compassion.
To Thee, O eternal Son of God, thy Father addresses with
a different meaning the words which thou didst speak to thy
slumbering disciples in the garden. " Sleep on, now, and take
thy rest"— rest from the life of humiliation and anguish which
thou hast voluntarily endured for the sake of sinful human
ity. " Rise ; let us go hence"— hence from the earthly shame
to the everlasting glory ; from bearing for a few brief hours
the cross of love to wear forever its unfading crown.
* Matt, xxvii., 61.

490 DEATH. [Chap. XXXIV.

NOTE.
The immediate cause of Christ's death is veiled in obscurity. The reasons
for the opinion, stated in the text can only be very briefly stated here. Cru
cifixion produced a very lingering death. No vital organ was directly af
fected. The victim rarely died in less than twenty-four hours. Instances are
recorded of his lingering a full week. It was customary to dispatch the con
demned after a few hours of torture by speedier means. This was done in
the case of the thieves. Pilate was surprised at the intelligence that Jesus
was already dead. The guard seems to have shared that surprise. Up to
the last moment there was no sign of weakness, no decay of power or vitality.
Jesus conversed with the thief, and spoke to his friends. His last cry was
not that of exhausted nature. He cried with a loud— hterally great, i. e.
strong — voice. His death was instant. There was in it something remark
able — something which attracted the attention of the centurion and his band.
It followed immediately after the cry, " My God ! my God ! why hast thou
forsaken me ?" This agony succeeded that of Gethsemane. In that mid
night struggle the heart and blood-vessels were affected. The palpitation of
the heart was so intense as to cause bloody sweat — a phenomenon rare, but
not unknown, and produced by intense mental excitement. That this was
truly bloody sweat, see Alford in loco. The heart would probably have been
weakened by such an experience. A repetition of the agony then endured
might truly rupture the membrane of the heart. Such an experience has been
known to produce sueh a result. If it did, death would instantly ensue. The
blood would flow into the pericardium, an outer sac in which the heart is in-
plosed. There it would be liable to separate very rapidly into clots of extrav-
asated blood and water. When the soldier thrust the spear into Jesus's side,
it was probably with a double purpose : to ascertain whether Jesus was dead;
to insure his death if he were not. For this purpose he would aim at the
heart. The spear would pierce, of course, the left, not the right side, as por.
trayed in nearly all art representations of the crucifixion. The water, fol
lowed and accompanied by the clots of blood,- would flow from the wound.
It is impossible to account for this phenomenon, npt.only recorded by John,
but evidently regarded by him of considerable' importance, except upon the
hypothesis of a broken heart, or of some previous organic disease. An
drews's hypothesis that it was supernatural has'nothing but a devout surmise
to sustain it. The reader who desires to investigate this subject more thor
oughly will find by far the fullest and ablest discussion of it' in Stroud's
Physical Cause of the Death of Christ, London, 1847, especially chap, iv., p.
73-156, and notes iv. and v., p. 389-420. If this is not within his reach,
he will find a brief but adequate statement of the argument in M'Clintock
and Strong's Biblical Cyclopaedia, art. Crucifixion.

Chap.XXXV.J THE QUESTION STATED. 491

CHAPTER XXXV.
WHOSE SON IS HE?
SENTENCE of death was pronounced against
Jesus, as we have seen, by two separate tri
bunals, on two distinct charges. By the Jew
ish court he was condemned for blasphemy;
by the Roman judge for sedition. Both were,
by the laws of the respective nationalities, capital offenses.
The impartial historian, reviewing the proceedings in this
case, must, afford his readers the material for coming to an
independent conclusion concerning not only the regularity,
but the justice of these proceedings. He must afford them
some information concerning the statute under which the
courts acted, and the grounds on which they themselves
based their action.
The injustice of the second judgment is indeed too palpa
ble to require exposure. It was wrested from a reluctant
judge by a violent mob. Six times Pilate declared the pris
oner guilty of no offense, and at last sentenced him to death,
and pronounced him innocent at the same moment. Noth
ing could have been farther from the purpose of Jesus than
any violent interference with the political organization of
Palestine; nothing farther from his sympathy than the fac
tions, whose growing turbulence was prophetic of the dreadr
ful scenes of carnage in which the ancient commonwealth of
Israel was finally and forever extinguished.
The other charge requires a more careful consideration.
Blasphemy, in the Hebrew theocracy, was a far more se
rious crime than it is in the American Republic. Jehovah
was, in a peculiar sense, the King of the Jews. He framed

492 WHOSE SON IS HEf [Chap. XXXV.
their original Constitution. He promulgated their first laws.
He appointed, at the outset, their chief officers. In him was
vested the title to all the land. The people were tenants at
his pleasure.* When the form of government was changed,
its essential character remained still the same. The mon
archy was still a theocracy. The kings were the Lord's
anointed. They governed in his stead; and their decrees,
issued in his name, were supported by at least the supposed
sanction of his authority. The whole theory of Hebraism
was tersely expressed in the phrase, " The Lord is king."
Under such . a Constitution, to do aught to diminish the
reverence with which his name was invested, or to turn the
hearts of the people from their complete allegiance to him,
was a capital crime. It answered to the crimen majestatis
of the Roman, to the praemunire of English jurisprudence.
It was an offense alike against Church and State. It was
not only irreligion, it was treason.
This was blasphemy, the greatest crime known to the Mo
saic code. Its statutory books are full of the most explicit
provisions against every form of this offense. Cave was
taken to invest the name of Jehovah with awe, and his will
with a supreme authority. The first provision of the funda
mental Constitution was, " Thou shalt have no other gods be
fore me." The second guarded against degrading concep
tions of his person by forbidding all sensuous representa
tions of him. No picture, no image was ever permitted to
depict him to the imagination. No man might ever speak
his name irreverently, or use it in light and trivial conversa?
tion.f No prophet might teach in any other name than his.
No man -might work real or pretended miracles under guise
of any other than divine authority. No teacher might pro
pose for the worship of the people any other deity. J ¦
Any infraction of these statutes, in whatever form, was
punished with death. For attempting to turn the allegiance
* See ante, chap, ii., p. 29, and notes. t Exod. xx., 1-7.
X Ante, chap, ii., p. 35, note **.

Chap. XXXV.] BLASPHEMY DEFINED.

493
were

of the people from Moses, Korah and his companions
swallowed by. the open-mouthed earth.* For striking the
rock and bringing forth the water without giving God praise,
Moses died in the wilderness, forbidden to enter the land to
the borders of which he had conducted Israel.f For preach
ing and practicing the worship of a false god the priests of
Baal were slain by the swords of the prophet Elijah and the
people. J In the degeneracy of the age other enactments had
become obsolete. But these provisions of their ancient law
had been invested with additional sanctity by Jewish his
tory. Again and again Israel had suffered them to be disre
garded. They had listened to the teaching of false prophets.
They had followed false gods. And they had invariably paid
the penalty of their transgression. War, pestilence, and fam
ine had in turn ravaged their land. At length they had
learned the lesson of undivided allegiance. - Neither blan
dishments nor persecutions were able to swerve them from
at least a formal following of Jehovah. Antiochus Epiphanes
had placed his image in the Temple, and demanded adora
tion for it. This sacrilege had fired the Jewish heart as all
previous cruelties had been unable to do, and had given rise
to the bloody, and, for a time, successful revolution under the
Maccabees. Caligula had decreed that his deification, enact
ed by the Roman senate, be confirmed by the Jewish nation.
The hopeless but desperate resistance of the people, who sub
mitted to every other demand, ceased only with the death of
the impious emperor. No crime did Jewish blood avenge
With passions so quick and hot as the crime of blasphemy.
It was of this crime Jesus was accused. It was stated
that in his own name he promulgated laws in violation of
the plain spirit, if not of the positive statute of the Mosaic
code ; that in his own name he wrought miracles in contra
vention of its various provisions against witchcraft and sor
cery ; and that in his own name he taught in violation of one
of its explicit laws. The priests scouted the idea that Jesus
* Numb. xvi. t Numb, xx., 7-12. f 1 Kings xviij.

494 WHOSE SON IS HE? [Chap. XXXV.
was any thing more than a Galilean Rabbi. It is difficult to
see how, if they had been right, he could have been success
fully defended from these charges.
But these charges paled before the far more serious charge
preferred against him of attempting directly to divert the al
legiance of the people from Jehovah to himself. The laws
against blasphemy constituted an important exception to the
right of free speech so carefully guarded by the Jewish Con
stitution. An explicit statute forbade any man from preach
ing any other gods than Jehovah. He might prophesy truly.
He might authenticate his mission by apparent miracles.
This could not avail him. If he preached another god than
the God of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob ; another god
than him under whom Israel had been emancipated in Egypt,
delivered in the wilderness, and brought through varied ex
periences to the promised land, he must die.
This statute is so important to a proper consideration of
this case that we give it entire.
" If there arise among you a prophet, or a dreamer of
dreams, and giveth thee a sign or a wonder, and the sign or
the wonder come to pass whereof he spake unto thee, sayingj
' Let us go after other gods, which thou hast not known, and
let us serve them,' thou shalt not hearken unto the .words of
that prophet, or that dreamer of dreams ; for the Lord your
God proveth you, to know whether ye love the Lord your
God with all your heart and with all your soul. Ye shall
walk after the Lord your God, and fear him, and keep his
commandments, and obey his voice, and ye shall serve him,
and cleave unto him. And that prophet, or that dreamer of
dreams, shall be put to death, because he hath spoken to turn
you away from the Lord your God, which brought you out
of the land of Egypt, and redeemed you out of the house of
bondage, to thrust thee out of the way which the Lord thy
God commanded thee to walk in. So shalt thou put the evil
away from the midst of thee."*
* Deut. xiii., 1-5.

Chap. XXXV.] THE TESTIMONY OF JESUS. 495
It is true that modern philosophy may question the policy,
or even the justice of such an enactment. It does not accord
with those principles of free religious thought which, in the
nineteenth century, allows to false religion and to a false po
litical philosophy the same freedom of debate which it con
cedes to the true. But our own national history has illus
trated the truth that there are exigencies when public inter
ests demand the repression of private freedom in speech ; and
it may well be doubted whether the best interests of the He
brew nation, just emerging from servitude, did not require
that they should be guarded by constitutional enactment
from false teachers. However that may be, this was a part
of the law of the land. The Sanhedrim were appointed to
maintain, not to modify it. The only question before the
court of Caiaphas was, " Is the prisoner at the bar guilty of a
violation of this statute ?" The only question before the court
of History is the justice of the sentence pronounced thereon.
It is true there were serious informalities in the trial. To
these we have already adverted. These affect, however, only
the regularity of the procedure.
The statute forbade any prophet from preaching any other
god than Jehovah.
Jesus was charged with having proclaimed himself a god.
What were the facts ?
Jesus commenced his ministry by a simple announcement
that the kingdom of heaven was at hand. But a marked
change soon characterized his preaching. Gradually, and
with ever-growing distinctness, he pointed to himself as the
king who had come to establish that kingdom of God which
John had only foretold. This change, already indicated in
the course of our history, need be only briefly recalled. All
the prerogatives of divine royalty he had assumed — legisla
tive, executive, and judicial functions. In nearly all his par
ables he had pointed to himself as the central object in the
new theocracy ;* he had claimed a rank superior to that ac-
* Ante, chap, xx., p. 288.

496 WHOSE SON IS HE? [Chap. XXXV.
corded to the heroes of Israel's ancient history — Abraham,
David, Solomon, Jonah ;* he pronounced absolution of sins ;f
he invested his disciples with authority to pardon in his
name ;\ he defended himself from the charge of Sabbath-
breaking, because, as the Son of God, he possessed the rights
of his heavenly Father ;§ he declared in direct language that
he and that Father were one.||
To his own disciples he spoke in language not more unam
biguous, but more frequently repeated. Three of them he
took with him to the Mount of Transfiguration, that they
might hear the divine voice saying, " This is my beloved Son ;
hear him.'"TT At the close of the first apostolic tour, he asked
their report as to the popular opinion respecting him. Pe
ter's declaration of their own faith that he was a divine Mes
siah elicited no rebuke, but a warm approval, and an emphatic
declaration that this living faith should be the rock founda
tion of his future Church.** As his ministry drew to a close,
these. utterances became more frequent and more emphatic.
He is the light of the world ;f f he is the way by which alone
the eternal Father can be approached ;JJ he is the bread of
life ;§§ the true manna ;|||| the vine on which all others are
but branches. T IT On him his disciples are to feed ; in him
alone do they have life.*** He is the Good Shepherd of
whom David sang, " The Lord is my shepherd ; I shall not
want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures ; he
leadeth me beside the still waters. "fff He is the door of the
fold, by which alone man enters into eternal life. Whosoever
climbeth up by any other way, the same is a thief and a rob
ber, m He is not of this world. The people, with whom
he never identifies himself, are from beneath, but he is from
above. §§§ He surrenders his own life; he takes it again in
* John viii., 58 ; Matt, xxii., 42-45 ; Matt, xii., 41, 42. t Mark ii., 5.
X Matt, xvi., 19. § John v., 17. || John x., 30.
fLukeix.,35. ** Matt, xvi., 13-20. tt John viii., 12
XX John xiv. ,6. §§ John vi. , 35. || || John vi. , 58.
ft John xv., 1-5. . *** John vi., 47, 54. ttt. John x., 11, 14.
XXX John x. , 1-9. §§§ John viii. , 23.

Chap. XXXV.] THE QUESTION ANSWERED. 497
the hour of resurrection.* His is the voice at which the dead
who are in their graves will rise from death. f He is the one
who will come in the clouds of his glory to "judge the world
with righteousness and the people with his truth. "J Of all
his followers he demands the absolute allegiance which the
Hebrews paid to God alone. They are to follow in his foot
steps ; are to share his cross ;§ are to keep his command
ments;! are to honor him as they honor the Father; to love
him as they love the Father; to trust in him as they trust in
the Father. % He that reverences him reverences the Father ;
he that hates him hates the Father ;** he that has seen him
has seen the Father, for he is in the Father, and the Father
in him ;f f and, finally, in the hour of his trial, disdaining to
retract or to interpret away these assertions, he embodies
and combines them in the one solemn declaration that he is
the Messiah of prophecy, the Son of God, and the final judge
of all mankind. J J
In the light of these fsfcts, it is impossible to defend the son
of Mary from the charge of blasphemy on any other ground
than that he was the Son of God. This was his own defense.
He would recognize no other.
If he had been only a Galilean Rabbi, these claims would
have violated the statute. That his teachings had been ac
companied by moral precepts of the most exalted and be
neficent character does not affect the question. That they
had received the sanction of miracles, as wonderful for the
love as for the power they displayed, did not, as we have
seen, exempt him from the penalties of the Jewish law. He
could claim exemption only upon the ground, which he never
ceased to maintain while he lived, and in attestation of which
he finally died, that he was not a prophet, but the Jehovah
of the Old Testament in a new and more glorious manifesta-
* John x., 18. + John v., 28. X Matt, xxiv., 30 ; Psalm xcvi., 13.
§ Matt, xvi., 24. II John xiv, 15.
1 John v. , 23 ; viii. , 42 ; xiv. , 1 . ** John xv. , 23.
tt John xiv. , 9, 10. XX Matt, xxvi., 63, 64.

498 WHOSE SON IS HE? [Chap. XXXV.
tion than was ever afforded by the burning bush, or the pillar
of cloud and fire, or the angel messenger, or the prophet's
dream. " It is not easy," says one of America's most dis
tinguished jurists, " to perceive on what ground his conduct
could have been defended before any tribunal except upon
that of his superhuman character. No lawyer, it is con
ceived, would think of placing his defense upon any other
basis."* The possibility of his possessing a superhuman character
the Sanhedrim refused to consider. This was their guilt.
For this they are condemned by the universal judgment of
mankind. For this they must answer before the bar of Al
mighty God.
Impartial history, then, must reply that the question of the
justice of Jesus's condemnation depends upon the judgment
which is formed of his character. If he had been only a Gal
ilean Rabbi, the tribunal of history could not rightfully re
verse that of Caiaphas. In the mausoleum of the noble dead
there is no place to erect, by the side of Confucius of China;
Buddha of India, and Socrates of Greece, a statue to the
memory of Jesus of Nazareth. He is either the Son of God
or he was a false prophet ; he was either more than a philos
opher or less than a true man. Between the faith which bows
before his shrine and the philosophy which confirms the sen
tence pronounced by the Jewish Sanhedrim there is no alter
native. He is worthy of worship, or he is guilty of death.
In a word, one must be either a Jew or a Christian.
* Greenleaf, Testimony of the Four Evangelists, Appendix, Note iv., p. 526.

Chap. XXXVI.] THE ANGEL IN THE TOMB. . 499

CHAPTER XXXVI.
THE RESURRECTION.*
&ROM the twilight of the sixth day to the dawn
of the first day of the week was the Jewish Sab
bath. The disciples did not yet comprehend the
liberty with which Christ had made them free.
Their Jewish prejudices prevented them from
consecrating its holy hours to offices even so sacred as the
embalming of the body of their Lord and Master. The
priests were not, however, prevented from applying on the
Sabbath for a guard to watch the tomb. Since the priest
hood would not have scrupled to contrive a fictitious resur
rection if it had served their purpose, their fears that such a
deception might be attempted by the disciples was probably
not feigned, but real. Pilate referred them to their own Tem
ple police, and with this they were obliged to be content.f
The women who had followed Jesus to Jerusalem, and
stood weeping beside his cross, watched for the rising sun,
unable to sleep, and as its first rays began to speck the east
with gray on the first day of the week, they started for the
sepulchre to complete the work of love which the setting sun
of Friday had interrupted. When they came to the tomb,
¦they were surprised to find the stone rolled away. Looking
in, they perceived a young man sitting there clothed in a
long white garment. The body of Jesus was gone. This ap
parition, which they took to be an angel, spoke to them — re
minded them of Christ's prophecy of his death and promise
* Matt, xxvii., 62^6(1; xxviii.; Mark xvi.; Luke xxiv. ; John xx. ; xxi.;
Acts i., 3-11 ; 1 Cor. xv., 3-7. t Matt, xxvii., 62-66.

500 THE RESURRECTION. [Chap. XXXVI.
of his resurrection, and bid them go and inform the disciples
that he was risen from the dead.*
It is not woman's nature to investigate critically ; she lives
by faith and hope. Without stopping, therefore, to examine
any farther — filled with awe and wonder at the occurrence,
which yet they were far from comprehending, the women
hastened back to their Galilean friends to communicate the
good news to them. Their message was received with utter
incredulity. To these men this wondrous story was only the
offspring of a woman's imagination. " Their words seemed
to them as idle tales, and they believed them not."f Only
two of them, Peter and John, thought the matter of sufficient
account to be worth investigation.
They started at once for the sepulchre. Notwithstanding
Peter's ardent temperament, John outran him. Mary Mag
dalene accompanied them. They looked into the case more
narrowly ; went into the tomb ; saw that the body was gone ;
observed that the linen clothes in which it had been wrapped
were laid carefully by, but saw nothing of any angel ; and
concluding, perhaps, that in the indistinctness of the dawn
the women had mistaken these clothes for a spirit robed in
white, and had imagined the rest, departed, perplexed, if not
confirmed in their original skepticism.];
This revulsion, this second crucifixion of her hopes, was
more than Mary Magdalene could bear. She remained at
the tomb to weep at this new distress, for now, despite the
angel-vision, she was convinced that the too-joyful tidingsiof
a resurrection had raised only a false hope, and that the tomb
had been rifled of its contents by a hate which even the cruel
cross could not satiate. Nor was it till Jesus appeared to
her in person, pronounced in well - remembered accents her
name, and thus disclosed himself to her wondering faith and
love, that she at last really apprehended that her Lord was
not dead, but was risen victor over' even death and the tomb.§
* Matt, xxviii., 1-7; Mark xvi., 1-8 ; Luke xxiv., 1-8.
¦t Luke xxiv., 11. j Luke xxiv., 12 ; John xx., 3-1.0. § John xx., 11-18.

Chap. XXXVI.] WALK TO EMMAUS. 501
But her report of this confirmation of her original tidinos
met from the disciples no better reception than her first ac
count. Their grief was inconsolable. "She went and told
them that had been with him, as they mourned and wept;
and they, when they had heard that he was alive, and had
been seen of her, believed not."*
It was the same day that two of the disciples, going from
Jerusalem to Emmaus,f a little village about seven and a half
miles distant, fell in with a stranger on the road, to whom
they told their grief. They had hoped that Jesus was he
who should have redeemed Israel. This hope they had been
compelled to abandon, though they still accounted him a
prophet unjustly put to death. They told him, too, the wom
en's story of the apparition at the sepulchre, and their aston
ishment and perplexity. He entered into conversation with
them, and explained from Moses and the prophets . the true
nature of the deliverance which the Messiah should bring.
When finally they reached their destination, he accepted
their urgent invitation to share their hospitality for the
night, and sat down with them to their evening meal. But
in the moment of the breaking of bread, this stranger guest
dropped the disguise beneath which he had hidden himself,
appeared to their astonished gaze the Jesus with whom they
had so often sat at meat, then vanished from their sight. Un
able to sleep, they returned at once to Jerusalem to testify to
what they had seen.J Their story, however, was received
with the same incredulity with which they had received that
of Mary Magdalene. " They went and told it unto the resi
due; neither believed they them."§ Evidently these disci
ples were not expecting a resurrection, nor prepared to be
lieve it without the most convincing proof.
That proof, however, was now afforded to them.
?Mark xvi., 10, 11.
t The site of Emmaus is unknown. It is not to be confounded with an
other village of the same name on the plains of Philistia.
X Luke xxiv. , 13-35. § Mark xvi. , 13.

502 THE RESURRECTION. [Chat. XXXVI.
For, while they were still discussing this matter, suddenly,
though the doors were closed, Jesus appeared in their midst.
So little had their minds apprehended the reality of his resur
rection, that they at first supposed that they had seen a spirit;
nor were they reassured until he had pointed out his wounded
hands and feet, and partaken of some simple food before them
all* Thomas was not with his companions at this time, and
Thomas was a Rationalist. No testimony could suffice to con
vince him of a fact which lay beyond the horizon of his own
experience. When the other disciples, therefore, said to him,
" We have seen the Lord," he replied, " Except I shall see in
his hands the print of the nails, and put my finger into the
print of the nails, and thrust my hand into his side, I will not
believe." This demand for ocular demonstration of spiritual
truth Jesus never regarded when it came from his foes. But
Thomas united a loving heart with a skeptical head. Doubt
was constitutional with him. A fourth time, therefore, Jesus
appeared to the disciples, stood in their midst, and bid Thom
as touch the wounded hands and side. Even the doubts of
Thomas could not resist the compassionate tenderness of
Christ's love, and, refusing to lay unholy hands upon that
holy form, he uttered, in an ecstasy of reverential gratitude,
those words with which the Christian Church has ever since
addressed its Redeemer — "My Lord and my God."f
Although in these interviews Jesus had indicated the fu
ture mission of his apostles, and had promised them divine
power for its accomplishment, they evidently little under
stood the work which lay before them. They still, indeed,
remained together, united more by past associations than by
any prospective plans. But, returning to Galilee, they re
sumed their old avocation — fishing. Here, for the fifth time,
Jesus appeared to them, shared with them their morning
meal, and entered into lengthy conversation with them.];
* Mark xvi., 14-18 ; Luke xxiv., 36-49 ; John xx., 19-23 ; 1 Cor. xv., 5.
t John xx., 24-29. J John xxi., 1-24.

Chap. XXXVI.] SKEPTICISM OF THE DISCIPLES. 503
Of these appearances we have detailed and specified ac
counts. Of other appearances the apostles make briefer men
tion. Once he met some of them in the way ;* once he was
seen of James ; again of Peter ; again by a congregation of
over five hundred ;f again he met the eleven among the moun
tains of Galilee ;l and, finally, gathering his apostles near
Bethany, not far from the place where his greatest triumph
had been witnessed and his greatest sufferings had been en
dured, while they beheld him, " he was parted from them and
carried up into heaven, and a cloud received him out of their
sight."§ It is evident, from this brief resume1 of the evangelical nar
ratives, that the fact of the resurrection is attested, not by
persons predisposed to believe in it, but by skeptical critics
hard to be convinced. The disciples were, in truth, utter
ly disheartened by the death of Christ. Their hopes were
crushed, their faith shattered, and they themselves stupefied,
not more by the crucifixion of their Lord than by the utter
destruction of their expectations. They could not have un
derstood Christ's promises of his resurrection, since they never
apprehended his prophecies of his death. They no longer be
lieved him to be the Messiah. They received with utter in
credulity the marvelous story of his reappearance after his
crucifixion. The phenomenon of his resurrection was sub
jected to a most searching scrutiny by most incredulous crit
ics, and was received only after repeated, ocular, and con
vincing demonstrations. Not until he had appeared to them
half a score or more of times, talked with them, partaken of
their hospitality, and showed them, as indubitable evidences
of his identity, the wounds in his hands, and feet, and side,
did they really believe he was risen .from the dead. So
marked and so stubborn was their incredulity that Christ
more than once tenderly upbraided them with their unbelief. |[
* Matt, xxviii., 9, 10. t 1 Cor. xv., 5-7.
X Matt, xxviii., 16, 17. § Luke xxiv., 50, 51 ; Acts i., 9-11.
|| Mark xvi., 14 ; Luke xxiv., 25-28, 38, 39, 44 ; John xx., 27.
22

504 THE RESURRECTION. [Chap. XXXVI.
But when at length they were convinced of the fact, it
wrought a marvelous change in them. Hitherto they had
shared the universal expectations of their contemporaries.
They had anticipated a political redemption — a restoration
of the Hebrew theocracy. Even in their last triumphal
march to Jerusalem they had thought the kingdom of God
would immediately appear. Even during the Last Supper
they innocently produced two swords for the defense of
their master. All his explanations of the spiritual nature of
his kingdom, all his prophecies of his sufferings and death,
had fallen upon dull ears. " They understood none of these
things." The resurrection of Jesus seems first to have opened their
eyes to the true significance of his character and his mission.
Now, for the first time, they began to appreciate the work to
which he had called them. Now, too, he indicated that work
in language clearer than he had ever used before. He inter
preted to them the true meaning of his sacrificial sufferings.
He canceled the limitations which he had attached to their
first mission, and bid them "go among all nations" and
"preach the Gospel unto every creature." The ordinance
of baptism, which before he had only permitted, he now re
established and clothed with a new significance ; and while
he was received out of their sight, he gave that promise
which, throughout all ages, has been fulfilled to faith among
all his disciples, " Lo ! I am with you always, even unto the
end of the world."*
This mission now at length apprehending, they joyfully
accepted. Disheartened by the death of Christ, they became
for a time simple Galilean fishermen again. Revived by his
reappearance, they were transformed by faith in his resurrec
tion into the moral revolutionists of the world. They aban
doned once more their boats and nets to become " fishers of
men." They laid aside their old prejudices, and preached
the glad tidings of a Messiah to the despised Gentiles. The
* Mark xvi., 15-20 ; Luke xxiv., 45-49 ; Matt, xxviii., 16-20.

Chap. XXXVI.] EVIDENCE OF THE FACT. 505
very cross which the priests had made the instrument of Je
sus's death they employed as the instrument of the world's
salvation ; while in inspired forms which time can never dim,
they recorded, for the benefit of all future generations, the
things which he had commanded them. The fact is indubi
table, however the phenomenon may be explained, that Jesus
crucified has arisen from the tomb, and lives to-day in great
er power than any he ever manifested while in human form
he walked the earth.
This faith in a risen Savior the disciples have communi
cated to an incredulous world. The evidences which con
vinced them have been equally satisfactory to the great ma
jority of mankind ; and after subjecting the statements of
the evangelists to a most rigid and often inimical examina
tion, only an exceedingly small minority have been found to
doubt the fact of the resurrection, the natural sequel of a
life so extraordinary as that of Christ's, the only rational ex
planation of a power so great as Christianity has proved it
self to be. An enduring and extraordinary monument wit
nesses to this most stupendous event. Nothing is so difficult
to change as the conventional customs of the Church. But
the Sabbath of Judaism is supplanted by the Sabbath of
Christianity. The rest-day of creation gives way, by the al
most universal consent of mankind, to one which celebrates
the day when Jesus of Nazareth rose from the tomb. Thus,
by a provision so marvelous as to be almost miraculous, ev
ery recurring week brings a new witness to the sublimest
fact of history, that " now is Christ risen from the dead, and
become the first-fruits of them that slept."*
We have traced the life of Jesus from Bethlehem to Cal
vary. We have seen him growing in favor with God and
with man. We have listened to his teachings with reverent
attention, deepening into awe as he has spoken in tones of di
vine indignation of the certainty of divine judgment. We
* 1 Cor. xv., 20.

506 THE RESURRECTION. [Chap. XXXVI.
have seen him unmoved alike by the applause of his Galilean
audiences and by the execrations of the Judean mob. We
have watched him with beating hearts in the battle of the
wilderness and in the agony of the garden, conscious that
these deeper experiences of his tempest-tossed soul our souls
can never truly apprehend. We have seen his immeasurable
love misapprehended by his friends, and repaid by his foes
with scorn, with contumely, and with the cruel cross. Our
own hearts have shared the sorrow of his disciples as with
reverent hands they have laid his body in the tomb ; and
their exultation, as with wondering faith they have received
him again, risen from it. Yet in all this way we have never
ceased to be conscious that, like the disciples on the road to
Emmaus, our eyes have been holden, and that, however our
hearts have burned within us at his words and presence, we
have never truly seen him as he is, nor ever can, till that
which is perfect is come, and we see no longer in a glass
darkly, but face to face.
And yet we have not read the full story of his Ufe ; for
that life knows no end.
Among his last and most precious promises was his dec
laration that he would not leave his disciples orphans — that
he would come again to them. Still, where two or three, are
gathered together in his name is he in the midst of them.
Still is he Immanuel — God with us. Still Mary sits at his
feet, and Martha busies herself in his service. Still John
leans upon his bosom, impetuous Peter alternately acknowl
edges and denies him, and worldly-minded Judas betrays
him. Still Pharisaism and priestcraft join hands in crucify
ing him ; and skepticism still seals the tomb in which it
strives to hold him.
Nor is this all. The end is not yet. He will come again.
While he lived he compared himself to a prince who leaves
for a time his province, but returns to resume the throne and
sceptre. The promise of that reappearing sustained the apos
tolic Church in all its weary way. For the fulfillment of that

Chap. XXXVI.]

CONCLUSION.

509

promise we, his disciples, still wait. Never was the word of
his first ministry more significant than now : Repent, for the
kingdom of heaven is at hand. It needs no John the Baptist
to read the signs of the times; no prophet's eye to perceive
in the gray dawn of the early morning the token of the sec
ond rising on this darkened world of ours of this Sun of
Righteousness. The very air is full of the portents of his
coming. The very earth trembles in strange convulsions be
neath the feet of the Son of man ; while wars and rumors
of wars forewarn of the final trump, and falling thrones and
kingdoms prepare for the coronation of him whose kingdom
is an everlasting kingdom, and whose dominion endureth
throughout all generations.
. Let the heavens rejoice, and let the earth be glad ;
Let the sea roar, and the fullness thereof.
Let the field* be joyful, and all that is therein ;
Then shall all the trees of the wood rejoice before the Lord :
For he cometh — for he cometh to judge the earth :
He shall judge the world with righteousness,
And the people with his truth.

)~3

.WjsJsWg'-**35 - — — -¦

y.

mk

IPS

APPENDIX.

THE MIRACLES OF THE NEW TESTAMENT.

3~T does not come within the province of this book to
discuss the philosophic question of the nature and
credibility of the miracles, for this book is a history,
not a treatise on theology. Nor do I propose in
this note to go into any elaborate discussion of the
argument either for or from miracles, but only to state very
briefly some simple but often ignored or forgotten distinc
tions, thus endeavoring to point out what is the Biblical def
inition and the Biblical use of the argument from miracles.
There are four terms chiefly employed in the Bible in des
ignating the events which we are accustomed to call mira
cles, namely — wonders, signs, powers, and works. The Bibli
cal miracle is a wonder, that iSj something out of the ordi
nary course of nature ; a sign, that is, a token and evidence
of the peculiar power of God ; and a power, or work, that is,
a work of such character as to carry with it evidence of di
vine power. Combining these four words, we may see that
every Biblical miracle is an event calculated to produce won
der and compel inquiry, employed as a sign, *. e., in attesta
tion of some divine truth or divine authority, its nature
being such as to lead irresistibly to the conclusion that it is
the work of a power greater than human.
There is, therefore, in the Bible no ground whatever for
the definition often given of miracles by skeptical writers,
"A violation of the laws of nature." A large part of the
common arguments against miracles are founded upon this

514 APPENDIX.
false definition. It may be true that there is no evidence
that God has ever interfered with one of the laws which he
has established for the government of the universe ; it may
even be true that God could not interfere and set aside one
of these laws, though there is no evidence of this, and still
the evidence of the reality of Biblical miracles would not be
vitiated or weakened ; for the use of nature may be as great
a wonder and as great a sign of divine power as a violation
of nature. Miracles are indeed supernatural, that is, above
nature; but they are not contranatural, that is, against
nature. On the contrary, upon examination, the miracles of the
Bible appear to be, for the most part, in accordance with nat
ural laws. Thus, for example, the passage of the Red Sea,
though miraculous, was accomplished by the divine and su
pernatural employment of natural means — by a strong east
wind by which the Lord caused the sea to go back again.
Manna falls in the Arabian deserts from heaven to the pres
ent day: the miracle of the manna lay in the miraculous
amount sufficient for the support of so great a host. Nature
was not violated, only used on a large scale and in a more
beneficent way. The destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah
is one of the most striking miracles recorded in the Old Tes
tament ; but Dr. Robinson, in his Biblical Researches, has
not only very clearly shown that this might have been ac
complished by the employment of natural laws, but he has
indicated the natural forces by which it probably was ac
complished. Even the grandest of all the miracles of either
the Old or the New Testament — the resurrection of Lazarus
from the dead — involves no violation of the laws of nature.
All Christians believe in a universal resurrection which will
take place in accordance with some general law not now
understood. Christ, in Lazarus's case, did but antedate this
grand event. He did not violate the law; he understood
and used it before the hour of its general operation.
While this Biblical definition of a miracle thus sets aside

THE MIRACLES OF THE NEW TESTAMENT. 515
the most common arguments employed against their credi
bility, it also sets aside the common argument derived from
a supposed analogy between Biblical and later ecclesiastical
miracles. The miracles of the Bible are al] signs of divine
power. Not every wonder is a miracle. Indeed, the Israel
ites were repeatedly and distinctly warned in the Old Testa
ment they were not to be led by any wonders or supernat
ural things to depart from the worship of the true God.*
The magicians in Egypt are represented as working portents
analogous to those wrought by Moses and Aaron ; and in
the New Testament the Pharisees are represented as casting
out devils.
Mere wonders, then, are not miracles. They must explain
and reveal the truth of teachings which commend themselves
to the hearts and consciences of mankind ; and only when
they are thus signs or attestations of truth are they in the
Biblical sense of the term miracles. In other words, to the
attestation of a divine truth two things are necessary : first,
conviction that the truth presented is of a character such as
to justify the presumption that it comes from God; second,
some sign or attestation which constitutes an evidence of
divine approval or indorsement. Now the so-called miracles
of heathenism, of the Middle Ages, and of modern Spiritual
ism are not signs. They do not accompany revelations or
disclosures of divine truth. They are, for the most part,
meaningless. A notable illustration is afforded by the famous liquefac
tion of the blood of Saint Januarius. The image of this saint
is preserved in the chapel of San Gennaro in the Church of
Santa Restituta at Naples. Something which the priest as
sures us is his blood is kept with care in a little phial. On
the days consecrated to this saint, this phial of blood is
brought in by the priests and held before the bust of the
saint. Prayer, incense, and music then follow. The people
cry out to the saint aloud in tones of entreaty and even of
* Deut. xiii., 1-5.

516 APPENDIX.
despair. At length, according to the reports (which, for our
purpose, we may assume to be true), the clotted blood in the
vase is seen gradually to dissolve or liquefy. Bells are rung
and processions are formed in honor of the miracle, and the
scene ends with general rejoicing.
Now this may be a wonder ; but it certainly is not a sign.
It attests nothing, confirms nothing, accompanies and sanc
tions no truth, renders no man better or happier. The fun
damental character of a miracle is wanting. The same may
be said of the wonders wrought by the Spiritualistic medi
ums. However wonderful they may appear to be, they at
test nothing ; they accompany no disclosures of beneficent
or needful truth ; there is nothing in them to make the in
dividual or the race happier or wiser or better.
The Biblical use of miracles is quite as important to note
as the Biblical definition. In fact, if skepticism has been
provoked respecting miracles, it is partly due to the fact
that the Church has not used them as Christ used them ; for
the Church has constantly employed the argument of mira
cles in discussions with skeptics for the purpose of proving
the truth of the Christian religion to those who did not de
sire to receive it. This is a use of the argument from mira
cles which Christ's practice does not justify. He was con
tinually appealed to by the Pharisees to work miracles for
the purpose of demonstrating his authority, and he habit
ually refused. Even when John the Baptist sent to him
from prison to inquire whether he was the Messiah, Christ
wrought no miracle for his special behoof. He simply kept
the disciples of John with him while he went on with his in
struction and his ministry of mercy, and sent them back to
their master to tell the story of what they had seen and
heard. In his public discourses, Christ rarely, if ever, refers
to his miracles in attestation of his authority; he refers to
his " works," but by this word is meant not merely his mir
acles, but his whole life-work of mercy and love, including
certainly the healing and the helping of the lame and the

THE MIRACLES OF THE NEW TESTAMENT. 517
halt, the sick and the blind, but including also his whole
life, example, and character.
The object of a miracle is to attest the authority of the
divine messenger or speaker to one who already desires to
receive the truth, but requires some authentication of the
truth in order that he may receive it. A miracle is like a
seal upon a will, to authenticate the inheritance for the heir
who wishes to receive the bequest; it is not like a seal upon
a warrant of arrest, to compel obedience of an unwilling or
resisting captive; it is generally, therefore, useless to em
ploy the argument from miracles in discussions with those
who desire to reject Christianity. But when men are found
who are desirous to receive pardon for their sin, and help in
their need, and light in their darkness, but who are perplexed
for want of some adequate evidence that Christ is able to
give and to do what he professes, for them the miracles may
be cited as one of the attestations of that divine authority
without which his words would be but a promise without
power, and a hope without assurance.

THE AUTHENTICITY OF THE FOUR GOSPELS.

rHIS work is founded on the assumption of the
canonicity and authenticity of the four Gospels.
It is not possible within the compass of a brief
chapter like the present to state with any fullness
of detail the grounds on which the Christian
world has almost universally accepted these Gospels as writ
ten by the authors whose names they bear; but it may be
useful to the student to indicate very briefly the nature of
the evidence upon which that faith rests.
When any work has existed for many years under the
name of a supposed author, and that authorship has for
many years been undisputed, a strong presumption is raised
tbat the supposed is the real author. This is the case with
the four Gospels, the authorship of which was never serious
ly impugned until toward the close of the seventeenth cen
tury. The burden of proof, therefore, rests upon those who
deny, not upon those who assert, that these books were
written respectively by Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.
This assumption is, however, greatly strengthened by the
evidence, which, if not amounting positively to conclusive
demonstration, makes the authorship of these books as cer
tain as that of any other literature of equal antiquity. Ire-
naeus (who was born in the first half of the second century
and died about A.D. 200) has left a work on Heresy, in
which he assigns the authorship of the four Gospels to those
whose names they now bear, and quotes as inspired Scrip-

THE AUTHENTICITY OF THE FOUR GOSPELS. 519
ture the Acts of the twelve Apostles, the Epistles of Paul
(omitting Philemon), the Book of Revelation, the first and
second epistles of John and the first of Peter. This makes it
evident that at the beginning of the third century the Church
possessed the New Testament substantially as it now pos
sesses it, and believed the books of the New Testament to
have been written by the authors to whom they have been
ever since attributed. We have therefore simply to ask
ourselves the question, "What indication is there that this
opinion, universally entertained at that time, was correct or
incorrect ?" Tracing back literary history from the time of
Irenasus to the time of the Apostles, we find in the interim
a continuous list of authors, containing quotations, sometimes
verbal and sometimes only substantial, which demonstrate
very clearly the existence of Gospel records certainly simi
lar to, and probably the same as, those which we now possess.
Thus Clement of Rome (A.D. 64-*70) quotes as words of the
Lord Jesus Christ expressions in substance identical with,
and in phraseology similar to, those reported in the Gospels
of Matthew and Luke. Polycarp (A.D. 80-160), in his Epistle
to the Philippians, abounds with references to the writings
of the New Testament. " His use, too," says Westcott, " of
Scriptural language is so frequent that it is unanswerable
and without doubt that he was acquainted with the chief
parts of our canon ;" and he was a disciple of John, and was
by the Apostles ordained to his office of bishop, or presbyter.
Pappius refers explicitly to the Gospel of Matthew and to
one of Mark. Justin Martyr (A.D. 132-13*7), in his published
writings, embodies nearly all the principal events in the life
of Christ, gathered from what he entitles " The Memoirs of
the Apostles," which he describes as containing a record of *
all things concerning Jesus Christ, and as being read cus
tomarily in the public service of the churches on the same
footing as the prophets ; and these in one passage he calls
Gospels. These illustrations may suffice to indicate the
line of literary argument by which the authorship of the

520 APPENDIX.
Gospels is traced back to the first century. The quotations
from the early fathers are so numerous that if the New Tes
tament were destroyed, every important fact in the life of
Christ could be gathered from their writings. They embrace
representatives of every section of early Christendom, in
cluding orthodox and heterodox, and the ripest scholars,
the most critical students, and the most independent think
ers of their time. If, therefore, the four Gospels did not
exist substantially in the form in which we now possess
them, we must suppose that other Gospels containing the
same facts did exist, which have so entirely perished that no
trace of them has remained, and that our present; Gospels
were palmed off upon the Church during the first three cent
uries by forgers.
If, on the contrary, the four Gospels have existed from the
first century in their present form, and bearing the names
of the authors which they now bear, then we must suppose
either that the Gospels were written by Matthew, Mark,
Luke, and John, or else that forgers succeeded in palming off
their work as the work of these men during their own life
time, a supposition which is entirely incredible.
The authorship of the Gospel of John has been more hotly.
contested than that of any of the other Gospels, and the con
test has been intensified by feeling on both sides. It can
not be discussed with indifference as a mere matter of curi
ous literary interest ; for if this Gospel was written by the
Apostle John, we have the testimony of an undoubted eye
witness to unquestionable miracles, and the report of dis-:
courses which establish beyond a doubt that Christ claimed
to possess the divine character. Accordingly, the opponents
of its apostolic authorship have resisted its claims with pe
culiar earnestness and sometimes with bitter vehemence.
The external evidence is, perhaps, not as strong as in the
case of the other Gospels, though it is not questioned by any
one that the fourth Gospel was in general use in the churches
in the third century, and was then universally recognized as

THE AUTHENTICITY OF THE FOUR GOSPELS. 521
having been written by the Apostle John ; and it can hardly
be questioned that references to sayings of Jesus which are
reported only in this Gospel are to be found in the writings
of Irenaeus, Tatian, and Justin Martyr, which carry us back
to the beginning of the second century.
These external evidences are greatly confirmed by the in
ternal evidence. The book assumes to be written by an eye
witness.* It abounds with graphic touches, such as indicate
a vivid remembrance of one who was both an eye and an ear
witness, f It has the aspect of having been written by one
familiar with the other three Gospels, or at least with the
view of Christ's life and teachings which is embodied in
them, but who wrote after the rapid growth of the Church
and its missionary incursions into heathenism had given the
writer a larger and broader conception of the catholicity of
the Christian religion ; by one who was thoroughly familiar
with Jewish customs and manners, and yet who did not
share the prejudices of the Jewish people, and whose life and
culture had given him a catholic and almost cosmopolitan
character. J Nor can we be mistaken in thinking that the
author was by nature vehement, ardent, impulsive, though
the intensity of his nature had been tamed by age, experi
ence, or grace. The most natural exhibitions of his feelings
are in his expressions regarding Judas Iscariot. § But the
whole tone and spirit of his narrative indicate a man of in
tense passionate earnestness, kept under marvelous subjec
tion and self-restraint. Finally, it is clear that the author is
a man familiar with the Greek language and with Grseco^
Oriental philosophy, and probably a resident in some com
munity and writing for some class of readers familiar with
mystical language and philosophy. Now all these signs
agree with all that we know respecting John's life and char-
* John i., 14 ; xix., 35 ; xx., 30 ; 1 John i., 1-3.
t John i., 1-38 ; iv., 6 ; vi., 10 ; xii., 3 ; xiii., 20 ; xviii.
X John ii., 6 ; v., 1 ; vi., 4 ; vii., 2 ; xviii., 28 ; xix., 40.
§ John vi., 70, 71 ; xi., 6; xiii., 2, 27.

522 APPENDIX.
acter. As a Galilean, he was familiar with Jewish customs,
and yet prejudiced rather against than for them. Bishop of
Ephesus, of all Greek cities the most Oriental, he was thor
oughly acquainted with Grseco-Oriental literature and forms
of thought. His original title, " Son of Thunder," indicates
the vehemence of his nature, while his peculiarly receptive
disposition and his intense love for Jesus might have been
expected to temper that nature without eradicating it. Fi
nally, he is believed to have written his Gospel toward the
close of the first century; long after the others were published
and in use among the churches ; after the destruction of Jeru
salem and after the dispersion of the Jews had begun ; after
the descent of the Holy Ghost had interpreted the promises
of another Comforter ; after the missionary operations and
reception of the Gentiles had taught, as only events can
teach, the catholicity of that kingdom which Christ came
to establish.
The student will find the material for a more thorough
discussion of the canonicity of the four Gospels in Westcott's
History of the Canons of the New Testament, Scrivener's
Plain Introduction to the Criticism of the New Testament,
Davidson's Introduction to the New Testament, Hone's In
troduction to the New Testament, and Smith's Bible Dic
tionary, article " Canon ;" or a somewhat briefer and more
condensed discussion of the question in the Introduction to
my Commentary on the Four Gospels and the special in
troduction to my Commentary on the Gospel of John,

LIST OF AUTHORITIES.

In order to avoid encumbering the pages of this book with voluminous ref
erences, I have confined the foot-notes to Scripture references and occasional
brief indications of the reasons for the statements in the text on doubtful
points. For the convenience of persons who may wish to investigate any of
the subjects treated of in this volume, I give here a classified hst of some of
the more important works which I have consulted. As this volume is intend
ed less for the scholar than for the general reader, I have only given books in
the English language, and such as are for the most part easily accessible.
For the same reason, I have always referred to English translations of foreign
works. LIVES OP CHRIST.
Andrews, Samuel J. , The Life of our Lord upon the Earth. New York,
1867. Benson, George, Life of Christ. London, 1764.
Bull,,A. H., Jesus and the Twelve, or the Training by Christ of his Dis
ciples. Oxford and London, 1867.
De Pressense, E. , Jesus Christ, his Times, Life, and Work. London,
1866. Dixon, William Hepworth, The Holy Land. Tauchnitz edition, 2 vols.
Leipsic, 1865.
Dufin, M. See Trial of Jesus.
Ebrard, J. H. A., The Gospel History. London, 1863.
Eccis Dem : Essays on the Life and Doctrine of Jesus Christ. Boston.
Ecoe Homo : a Survey of the Life and Work of Jesus Christ. Boston.
Eddy, Zachary, Immanuel, or the Life of Jesus Christ. Springfield,
Mass., 1868.
Ellicott, C. J. , Historical Lectures on the Life of our Lord Jesus Christ.
Boston, 1862.
Ewald, H., The Life of Jesus Christ. London, 1865.
Fleetwood, J. F., Life of Christ. Glasgow.
Fukness, W. H., Jesus and his Biographers. Philadelphia, 1838.
Goldstein, Isaac, Jesus of Nazareth (Jewish Life). New York, 1866.
Harris, John, The Great Teacher. Boston, 1850.
Jones, George, Life-Scenes from the Four Gospels. Philadelphia, 1867.
Kitto, John, Daily Bible Illustrations, Life of our Lord. New York, 1857.
Krumm acher, Fred. W. , The Suffering Savior. Boston, 1856.
Lange, J. P., The Life of Jesus Christ, 6 vols. London, 1864.

524 APPENDIX.
March, Daniel, Walks and Homes of Jesus. Philadelphia.
Milman, H. H., The History of Christianity. New York, 1861.
Macpherson, Robert, The Resurrection of Jesus Christ. Edinburg and
London, 1866.
Neander, Augustus, The Life of Jesus Christ. New York, 1 849.
Plumptre, E. H. (Boyle Lectures, 1866), Christ and Christendom. Lon
don, 1867.
Renan, Ernest, The Apostles. New York, 1866.
Renan, Ernest, The Life of Jesus Christ. New York, 1867.
Salvador, M. See Trial of Jesus.
Schaupfler, W. G., Meditations on the Last Days of Christ. Boston,
1853. Schenckel, Daniel, Character of Jesus Portrayed. With Introduction
and Notes by W. H. Furness, 2 vols. Boston, 1866.
Smith, William, The New Testament History. New York, 1868.
Strauss, D. F., Life of Jesus, 8 vols. London, 1866.
Taylor, Jeremy, History of the Life and Death of the Holy Jesus.
London. Trial of Jesus. In two parts. I. Trial and Condemnation of Jesus, by
M. Salvador. II. Jesus before Caiaphas and Pilate, by M. Dupin. Amer
ican Tract Society, New York.
Tucker, T., The Sinless One, or the Life Manifested. Boston, 1855.
Uhlhorn, Gerhard, Modern Representations of the Life of Jesus Christ.
Boston, 1868.
Williams, I. , Narrative of our Lord's Nativity. London, 1 844.
Young, John, The Christ of History. New York, 1856.
HARMONIES, COMMENTARIES, AND DICTIONARIES.
Abbott's Notes on the New Testament. Boston, 1842.
Alford's Greek Testament, 4 vols. London, 1859.
Augustine's Homilies (Library of Fathers). Oxford, 1848.
Barnes's Notes on the Gospels, 2 vols. New York, 1852.
Bloomfield's Greek Testament, 2 vols. Boston, 1837.
Calmet's Dictionary of the Bible, 5 vols. London, 1841.
Calvin, John, Commentary on a Harmony of the Synoptical Evangelists,
3 vols. Edinburg, 1845.
Chapman, Richard, Greek Harmony of the Gospels. London, 1836.
Chrysostom's Homilies (Library of Fathers). Oxford, 1848.
Cobbin's Descriptive New Testament. Loudon, 1845.
Conybeare and Howson's Life and Epistles of St. Paul, 2 vols. New
York, 1 858.
Davidson, Sam'l, Introduction to the New Testament, 3 vols. London.
Drummond's Parabolic Teaching of Christ. New York, 1856.
Greenleaf, Simon, Examination of the Testimony of the Four Evangel
ists. Boston, 1846.
Greswell, Edward, Harmony of the Gospels, 4 vols. Oxford, 1837.
Horne,T. H., Introduction to the Bible, 4 vols. London.

APPENDIX. 525
Jenks, William, Comprehensive Commentary, 6 vols. Brattleboro, 1835
Jones, William, Biblical Cyclopaedia. London, 1847.
Kirk, E. N., Lectures on the Parables. New York, 1856.
Kitto, John, Cyclopasdia of Biblical Literature, 3 vols. Edinburg, 1862.
Lange's Commentary, translated by Philip Schaff. New York, 1866.
Lightfoot, John, Whole Works of, 1 3 vols. London, 1 825.
M'Clintock & Strong, Biblical Cyclopaedia, A-D. New York, 1867.
Olshausen's Commentary, translated by A. C. Kendrick, 6 vols". New
York, 1858.
Owen^s Commentary on the Gospels, 3 vols. New York, 1859.
Robinson's English Harmony of the Gospels. Boston, 1859. '
Robinson's Greek Harmony of the Gospels. Andover, 1834.
Smith, William, Dictionary of Greek and Roman Antiquities. London
1848. Smith, William, Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and My
thology, 3 vols. London, 1844.
Smith, William, Dictionary of Greek and Roman Geography, 2 vols.
Boston, 1854.
Smith, William, Dictionary of the Bible, 3 vols. Boston, 1863.
Tholuck, A., Sermon on the Mount, Biblical Cabinet, vols. vi. and vii.
Edinburg, 1843.
Tholuck, A., Commentary on St. John. Boston, 1836.
Townsend, George, New Testament. Boston, 1837.
Trench, R. C. , Notes on the Miracles. New York, 1 854.
Trench, R. C, Notes on the Parables. New York, 1854.
Trench, R. C, Studies in the Gospels. New York, 1867.
ARCHEOLOGY.
Bernard, J. L., Synagogue and the Church. London, 1847.
Bostock, J., History of Medicine. London, 1835.
Brown, William, Antiquities of the Jews, 2 vols. Edinburg, 1 826.
Burder, Samuel, Oriental Customs, 2 vols. London, 1 822.
Bueder, Samuel, Oriental Literature, 2 vols. London, 1822.
De Pressense, Edmond, The Religions before Christ. London, 1862.
Enfield, William, History of Philosophy, 2 vols. London, 1819.
Fleury, Claude, Manners of the Ancient Israelites. London, 1809.
Jahn, Biblical Archaeology, translated by Thomas C. Upham. New York,
1832. .
Jennings, David, Jewish Antiquities. London, 1837.
Jewish Nation. London, Religious Tract Society, 1848.
Jones, George, Life-Scenes from the Old Testament. Philadelphia, 1868. *
Josephus, Flavius, The Works of, translated by William Whiston, A.M.,
2 vols. London, 1852.
Levi, David, Account of the Jews. London.
Lowman, Moses, On the Hebrew Government. London, 1745.
Michaelis, J. D., On the Laws of Moses, 4 vols. London, 1814.
Priaulx, Osmond de B., Quaestiones Mosaica**. London, 1854.

526 APPENDIX.
Renouard, History of Medicine. Cincinnati, 1 856.
Roberts, Joseph, Oriental Illustrations of the Sacred Scriptures. Lon
don, 1835.
Smith, William, Old Testament History. New York, 1866.
Stehelin, Rabbinical Literature, 2 vols. London, 1732.
Warburton, William, Divine Legation of Moses, 3 vols. London, 1 846
Wines, E. C, Commentaries on the Laws of the Ancient Hebrews. New
York, 1853. GEOGRAPHY.
Abbott, Jacob, Memoirs of the Holy Land. Harper's Magazine, vols. v.
and vi.
Barclay, J. T., The City of the Great King. Philadelphia, 1858.
Hawks, Francis L., The Monuments of Egypt. New York, 1850.
Murray's Hand-book for Syria and Palestine, 2 vols. London.
Rittbr, Carl, Comparative Geography of Palestine, 4 vols. Edinburg,
1866. Roberts, David, The Holy Land, 6 vols. London, 1855.
Robinson, Edw'd, Biblical Researches in Palestine, Mount Sinai, and Ara
bia Petrsea, 3 vols. Boston.
Robinson, Edw'd, Physical Geography of the Holy Land. London, 1865.
Stanley, Arthur Penehyn, Sinai and Palestine. New York, 1857.
Thomson, W. M., The Land and the Book, 2 vols. New York, 1859.
Wilson, John, Lands of the Bible, 2 vols. Edinburg, 1 847.
New Biblical Atlas and Scripture Gazetteer. American Sunday-school
Union, Philadelphia. MISCELLANEOUS.
Coquerel, Athanase, First Historical Transformations of Christianity.
Boston, 1867.
Cox's Literature on the Sabbath Question, 2 vols. London.
Domville, William, The Sabbath (Six Texts, etc.) London, 1849.
Domville, William, The Sabbath (Old Testament Sabbath). London,
1855. Evans, R. W., Scripture Biography, 2 vols. London, 1834.
Farmer, Hugh, Demoniacs of the New Testament. London, 1775.
Furness, W. H. , Unconscious Truths of the Four Gospels. Philadelphia,
1868. Hessey, J. A., Sunday (Bampton Lectures, 1860). London, 1860.
Magoon, E. L. , Republican Christianity. Boston, 1849.
Marcy, E. E., Christianity and its Conflicts. New York, 1867.
Maudsley, Henry, Physiol, and Pathology of the Mind. London, 1867.
Pearson, John, Exposition of the Creed, 2 vols. Oxford, 1797.
Ray, I. , Medical Jurisprudence of Insanity. Boston, 1853.
Robinson, Thomas, Scripture Characters, 2 vols. London, 1849.
Stanley, Arthur Penrhyn, The Jewish Church. New York.
Stroud, W., Physical Cause of the Death of Christ. London, 1847.
Winslow, F., Obscure Diseases of the Brain and Mind. London, 1860.

Index.

Adulteress, brought before Jesus, 342.
Adultery, a common vice, 345.
prohibited by Moses, 238.
punishable by death, 341.
Mnon. See Enon.
Affliction, Christian experience in,
371,374.
Agony, in the garden. See Gethsem
ane. on the cross, 484.
Agriculture, 62.
Almsgiving, 241.
Ambition, reproved, 361, 389, 421.
Andrew. See Disciples, call of.
Anger, forbidden, 238.
Anger, of Jesus Christ, 120.
Annas, character of, 440.
Anointing of Jesus, by a woman, a sin
ner, 266.
by Mary, 414.
Antonia, tower of, 458.
Apostles. See Disciples.
Appearances of Jesus, after his resur
rection, 500-503.
Aristocracy, forbidden by Moses, 30.
rebuked by Jesus, 385.
Arrest of Jesus, 435.
Ascension, 503.
Astronomy of the ancients, 71.
Atonement, 432, 484, 486.
taught hy John the Baptist, 90-92.
Atonement, day of, 91.
Baptism, not administered hy Jesus,
127, 179, 224.
of Jesus, 88.
ordained by Jesus, 504.
origin and significance of, 88, 123.
Barabbas, 468.
Bartholomew identical with Nathan
iel, 103.
Bartimseus. See Miracles of Christ.
23

Beatitudes, interpreted, 234.
Mount of, location uncertain, 230,
231 n.
Bethany, site of, 368. See Martha
and Mary.
Bethesda, pool of, 206.
Bethlehem, history of, 64.
Bethsaida, site of, 155, 306 n.
Betrayal. See Judas.
Blasphemy, a capital crime, 492.
defined, 491, 494.
Jesus accused of, 448, 452, 493.
Blind men, cure of. See Miracles of
Christ.
Bloody sweat, 433.
Boldness. See Courage.
Brethren of Jesus, 215 n.
Burial of Jesus, 486.
Caesarea Palestina, 454.
Caiaphas, character of, 440.
examines Jesus, 441.
Call. See Disciples.
Calvary, site of, unknown, 476, 477 n.
Cana, miracles at, 107, 137.
site of, 104 n., 137.
temporary home of Jesus, 136.
Canaan, origin of the name, 318.
Capernaum, friends of Jesus at, 138.
location uncertain, 155.
rejects Jesus, 316.
sermon at, 315.
why selected by Jesus, 151.
Capital punishment, Jewish power to
inflict, uncertain, 454.
Captivity of Israel, 42.
Care, cause of, 244.
Centurion of Rome described, 247.
Ceremonies not essential to religion,
210, 224, 422. See Baptism, Lord's
Supper.
Character, true estimate of, 265.

528

INDEX.

Children, Jesus's love for, 367.
Children of the Temple, 396.
Christ. See Jesus Christ.
Christian experience in grief, 371 , 374.
Christmas, origin of, 64.
Chronology of Christ's life uncertain,
7, 139, 278 n., 354, 419 n.
Church of Christ, instructions of Jesus
to, 327-329.
organization of, 213, 223.
promises of Jesus to, 283, 362,
389.
supported by voluntary offerings,
328.
Church of the Jews, origin of, 36.
corruption of, 46, 1 1 8.
Cisterns in Palestine, 52.
Cities, their government and condition,
51.
Civilization in the first century, 48-63.
Commerce, 6 1 .
Compromise sometimes a crime, 468.
Conversion illustrated, by call of disci
pies, 149.
call of Zaccheus, 386.
conversation with Nicodemus,
122.
prodigal son, 356.
woman at the well, 130.
Courage, commended by Jesus, 282.
Courage of Jesus, exemplified in ar
rest, 435-439.
expulsion of the traders, 119, 395.
going up to the Passover, 381 .
preaching in Judea, 340,351,401.
combined with prudence, 449.
Court of the Gentiles, 118.
Courts. See Judiciary.
Covetousness condemned, 358, 360.
Creed of Christ's Church, 225.
Criminal Code of Judaism, 441, 444.
disregarded in trial of Jesus, 445.
Cross, form of, 475.
Cures. See Miracles of Christ.
Crucifixion, cruelty of, 474, 475.
not a- Jewish punishment, 468,
474.
of Jesus, 480.
See Calvary.
Dancing in the Orient, 299.
Darkness at the crucifixion, 484.
Deaf and dumb. See Miracles of
Christ.
Dead Sea, region of, described, 85.

Death of Jesus, 485.
physical cause of, 486, 490.
Death penalty. See Capital punish
ment.
Dedication, Feast of, 350.
Demoniacal possession, 164.
compared with moral insanity,
166.
believed in by the Jews, 170.
See Miracles.
Devil. See Satan.
Disciples, anguish of, during Jesus's
trial, 473.
call of, 103, 149, 180.
characteristics of, 216, 221.
chosen by Christ, 214.
commission of twelve, 302, 504.
commission of seventy, 364.
enthusiasm of, 393.
false hopes of, 388.
fears of, 283.
ignorance of Christ's character,
103, 225.
love for Christ, 226.
misapprehension of Christ's king
dom, 504.
strife among, at Paschal Supper,
421.
unbelief in the resurrection, 500-
503.
Discourses. See Preaching.
Divinity of Christ. See Jesus, Son of
God.
Divorce, forbidden by Christ except for
adultery, 366.
provisions for, 365.
Dress of high-priest, 446.
of the Jews, 58.
Earthquake at crucifixion, 485.
Education, of Jesus, 79.
of the priesthood, 85.
public provision for, in the time
of Moses, 35.
in the time of Christ, 78, 141.
Emmaus, site of, unknown, 501 n.
walk to, 501.
Enon, location of, uncertain, 1 26.
Ephraim, site of, unknown, 377.
Equal rights maintained by Moses, 30.
Essenes, 194.
not Christians, 195 n.
Fasting, not inculcated bv Jesus, 179,
243, 262.

INDEX.

529

Fasting of Jesus in the wilderness, 96.
Feast, given hy Matthew, 180.
of the Dedication, 350.
of the Passover, 382.
of the Tabernacle, 333.
Fireplaces unknown, 55.
Flowers of Palestine, 22.
Forgiveness inculcated, 239, 328, 378.
Furniture of the Jews, 54.
Gadara. See Gergesa.
Galileans, character of, 398.
slaughter of, 277.
Galilee, descriptions referred to, 76 n.
desolation of, 156.
population of, 77, 153.
scenery and productions, 20, 22,75.
Sea of, 151,155,253.
Gambling of the soldiers at the cross,
481.
Genealogies of Jesus, 67 n.
Gennesaret, 153.
Gentiles, admission of, 148, 249, 285,
395. Gospel not at first preached to,.
303, 322.
Gergesa, site of, 255 n.
Gethsemane, 426-434.
God, fatherhood of, 282, 356, 377.
Golgotha. See Calvary.
Gospels, Four, authenticity of, 518.
Government of the Jews, in time of
Christ, 44, 50, 248, 440, 454.
under Moses, 38, 491.
under the Judges, 41.
Greeks seek an interview with Jesus,
395.
Happiness, true idea of, 233.
Hermon, Mount, 326.
Herod Antipas, beheved Jesus to be
John restored to life, 305.
character, 298.
end of, 301.
Jesus sent to, 466.
marries Herodias, 294.
Herod the Great, a despot, 44.
character and history, 73.
massacre of the infants, 75.
mocked by the Magi, 75.
rebuilds the Temple, 116.
wives of, 291.
Herodians, 399.
Herodias, character and history of,
292-301.

High-priest, character of the office,
440. dress, 446.
judicial functions of, 448.
Hill-country of Palestine, 22.
Hospitality enjoined by Jesus, 361.
Houses of the Jews, 53, 58.
HumiUty, 243, 361, 422.
Immortality taught by Jesus, 403.
Incarnation, mystery of, 93.
recognized, 68.
Industry encouraged by Moses, 37.
Infants, massacre of, 75.
Inns, 60.
Inscription on the cross, 477.
different records of, 478 n.
Intemperance an Oriental vice, 105,
108.
Jacob's well, 128, 130.
James, the apostle, 149.
the Lord's brother, 215 n.
Jericho, 383.
Jerusalem, address of Jesus to, 404,
405. a religious capital, 334.
destruction of, prophesied, 277,
412.
site of, 390.
suburbs of, 392.
Jesus Christ, age at commencement
of ministry, 81.
anger of, 120.
birth, 69.
birth-day unknown, 64.
childhood, 77-80.
consciousness of his divine char
acter a growth, 80, 94.
friend of sinners, 222, 265, 342-
345, 355, 385.
great physician, 151-163.
Lamb of God, 91.
lays down his own life, 401, 431.
love for his Church, 430.
love for his country, 429.
love of life, 428.
moral power of, 103, 135, 142,
148,170,340,464.
not a mere moral reformer, 110.
not a mere thaumaturgist, 162.
patience, 449, 453, 465, 482, 483.
popularity, 127, 147, 172, 176,
179,211,257,305.
pre-existence, 347.

530

INDEX.

Jesus, recognized as the Messiah, 272,
316, 327, 336.
seclusion, 176, 212, 254, 305, 324,
346, 396.
second coming, 508.
social character, 111, 385.
Son of God, 68, 90, 327, 338, 340,
351, 452, 470, 486, 497.
still with his disciples, 506.
studies, 143.
tempted in the garden, 431.
testimonies to himself, 123, 180,
338, 346, 351, 452, 495-497.
For incidents in the life of Christ,
refer to special titles.
Jewish expectations of the Messiah,
233, 310, 388, 399, 408, 504.
Jews, emancipation of, 26.
enmities between Samaritans and,
129.
political and religious parties of,
398.
See Government, Judeans, Gali
leans.
John the Apostle, ambition, 389.
at the sepulchre, 500.
call of, 149.
intrusted with the care of»Jesus's
mother, 481.
natural character,. 218.
John the Baptist, an ascetic, 86.
a Nazarite, 84.
birth and education, 84.
change in his preaching, 90.
characteristics and effects of his
preaching, 86, 103.
date of imprisonment uncertain,
139 n.
death of, 301.
early ministry, 85.
embassage to Jesus, 297.
imprisonment, 138, 291.
political preaching, 295.
testimonies to Jesus, 90.
See Baptism.
Jordan, source of, 327.
valley of, 21.
Joseph, character, 68.
death, 136.
Judas Iscariot, a Judean, 216, 407.
at Bethany, 414.
bargain with the priests, 415.
betrayal of Jesus, 434.
cause of his first acceptance of
Christ, 409.

Judas Iscariot, disappointment arid
death, 456.
his character analyzed, 406^415.
treacherous • purpose disclosed,
423.
Judeans, hostilities to Jesus, 337, 397.
characteristics, 335.
Judges, condition of Israel under, 41.
Judgment, day of, foretold, 357-359.
360, 405.
Judicial proceedings, in- the time of
Christ, 445, 450.
in the trial of Christ, 444, 446.
Judiciary, in time of Christ, 45, 380,
440. under Moses, 34.
Kerioth, site of, 407.
Kingdom of heaven, described and il
lustrated, 233-246, 286, 387, 461.
proclaimed by Jesus, 146, 284,
495.
Kitchens of Palestine, 55.
Laws of Moses, 33.
contrasted with those of Christ,
238.
divinely inspired, 39.
Lay preaching defended by Jesus, 339.
Lazarus, death of, 371.
Leprosy described, 177. See Miracles
of Christ.
Lord's Prayer, 242 n., 377.
Lord's Supper, » family ordinance,
224, 418.
instituted, 424.
its perpetuity, 417.
original conditions, 418.
various forms of its celebration,
416.
Love, the essence of rehgion, 240, 359,
403.
Machserus, site of, 290.
Magi, adoration of, 71.
Persian astronomers, 72.
Malefactors crucified with Christ, 483.
Manufactures, 61.
Marriage, at Cana, 106.
ceremony described, 104.
Martha and Mary, afford a home to
Jesus, 345, 369, 390.
character and history, 368.
contrasted, 345, 373.
Mary. See Martha.

INDEX.

531

Mary Magdalene, 268 n., 489, 500.
Mary, mother of Jesus, at the tomb,
489. attempts to interrupt his preach
ing, 282.
character of, 67.
commended to John, 481.
Matthew, call of, 180.
Meals of the Jews, 56, 266.
Medicine at the time of Christ, 157.
Messiah generally expected in the time
of Christ, 70, 86. See Jewish Ex
pectations.
Miracles believed in by the Jews, 1 59,
271,436. of Christ, attributed by Pharisees
to Beelzebub, 272.
characteristics of, 162.
early explanations of, 160, 271.
not natural cures, 161.
not the best evidence of Christi
anity, 270.
referred to by him as an evidence
of his mission, 297.
refused by Christ, 274, 466.
Miracles of Christ : Healing
blind and dumb possessed, 272.
blind man at Bethsaida, 326.
blind man at Jerusalem, 350.
blind men at Jericho, 387.
centurion's servant, 138 n., 247.
deaf and dumb, 326.
demoniac boy, 325.
demoniac in the synagogue, 169.
demoniacs at Gadara, 255.
impotent man, 206.
in the Temple, 395.
Jairus's daughter, 250.
leper, 1 78.
Malchus, 436.
multitude at Capernaum, 172.
nobleman's son, 137.
paralytic, 180.
Perean, 355, 365.
Peter's mother-in-law, 17).
resurrection of Lazarus, 375.
Svro-Phoenician woman's daugh
ter, 324.
widow's son, 250.
woman with issue of blood, 259.
Miracles of Christ : Miscellaneous :
at the marriage, 107.
feeding of five thousand, 307.
feeding of four thousand, 325.
first draught of fishes, 149.

Miracles of Christ (continued) :
stilling the tempest, 253.
tribute money, 329.
walking on the wave, 313.
Miracles of the New Testament, 513.
Monarchy, established, 41.
Jewish, limited, 32.
Moriah, Mount, history and location,
114.
Mourning customs of the Jews, 250,
478.
Nain, site of, 251.
Nathanael same as Bartholomew, 103.
Nativity. See Jesus, birth of.
Nazareth, features and history, 76.
rejection of Jesus, 147.
New birth, 123.
Nicodemus, character of, described, 1 22.

Olives, Mount of, 392.
Palestine, climate and productions, 20.
condition of, in the time of Christ,
48, .63.
physical features, 19, 21.
political divisions, 454.
subjugation of, 44.
See Government.
Parables, drawn from life and nature,
154. objects of, 285, 286 n.
Parables >of Christ :
children at play, 276.
fig-tree, 278.
good Samaritan, 136, 348.
good shepherd, 349.
importunate traveler, 379.
importunate widow, 380.
king's feast, 404.
laborer in the vineyard, 363.
leaven, 288.
lost drachm, 355.
lost sheep, 355.
marriage supper, 358.
mustard-seed, 288.
net, 288.
pearl of great price, 288.
Pharisee and publican, 348.
prodigal son, 356.
rich man and Lazarus, 358.
rich fool, 360.
seed sown, 287.
sower, 286.
ten pounds, 387.

532

INDEX.

Parables of Christ (continued) :
two debtors, 268.
two sons, 404.
unfaithful stewards, 359.
wheat and tares, 287.
wicked husbandmen, 404.
Passover, celebration of, 421.
described, 382, 459.
origin of, 420.
Perea, history and scenery, 352.
Perean ministry, 352-367.
order of, unknown, 354 n.
Perjury a common crime, 449.
Peter, at the sepulchre, 500.
attempts to walk on the wave,
313.
call of, 149.
confession of, 327.
denial of, foretold, 425.
denies his Lord, 442.
natural character of, 219.
resists the guard, 436.
Pharisees, belief of, in immortality,
184, 373.
demand a miracle, 274.
denounced by Jesus, 275, 404.
disciples of John the Baptist, 87.
divisions among, 189.
formalism of, 190, 240.
hostility to Jesus, 179, 260, 270,
364, 402, 482.
origin and history, 42, 183.
separatists, 264.
teachings, 187.
See Tahnud.
Phoenicians. See Tyre and Sidon.
Physicians, 158.
Pilate, character, 463-466.
cowardice; 470.
despotic authority, 459.
governor of Judea, 454.
proposes compromise, 468.
refuses to confirm Jewish sen
tence, 460.
wife's dream, 467.
See Trial of Jesus.
Political institutions of the Jews, 26-
40. See Aristocracy, Education,
Equal Bights, Laws, Monarchy,
State, Suffrage, Theocracy.
Pohtical preaching by John the Bap
tist, 295. See Preaching of Jesus.
Prayer, answer to, promised, 328.
importunity in, 379.
of Jesus for his foes, 480.

Prayer, of Jesus in Gethsemane, 433."
secret, 242.
Preaching of Jesus, characteristics of.
142, 232.
by the sea, 286-289.
effect of, 149.
exemplified by parables in Perea,
355-364.
expositoiy, 147, 164.
illustrations from life,144,338,348
-350, 355-361, 363, 379-381.
illustrations from nature, 143, 154,
245, 286-289.
illustrations from Scripture, 315.
in the fields, 149.
in the synagogues, 142, 164.
in the Temple, 336, 351, 396.
moral power of, 145.
object of, 1 40.
on public events, 144, 277, 387,
403.
popularity of, 148, 246, .396.
sermon at Capernaum, 315.
sermon on the Mount, 233.
sermon at Nazareth, 147.
sermons in the Temple, 338, 351.
unpopularity of, 147, 316, 337.
See Lay Preaching.
Priests of Judaism, contrasted with
those of the Middle Ages, 36.
corruption, 46, 119.
wiles of, 463.
Prophets, characteristics of, 81.
Publicans described, 49.
Punishment, capital, 454.
divine, threatened by Jesus, 245,
277, 284, 360, 404.
eternal, 273, 358.
Rationalism, illustrations of, 1 22, 502.
. inadequately explains the mira
cles, 161.
Regeneration, 123.
Religion, the foundation of the state,29.
of heathenism, 70.
of Jesus joyful, 111, 261.
of the ancient Jews joyful, 37.
Religious conversation, Christ's exam
ple in, 134.
Renan,'explanation of the resurrection
of Lazarus, 376.
explanation of Christ's miracles,
162.
Representative assemblies first pro
posed by Moses, 3 1 .

INDEX.

Resurrection, true doctrine of, 373.
Resurrection, of Jesus, 499-509.
belief in, reasonable, 505.
effect on the disciples, 504.
prophesied, 121.
Resurrection of Lazarus, 376.
Rich young man, 361.
Rome, corruption of, 400.
Sabbath, Christ's teachings and ob
servance, 180, 203, 207, 208, 340.
365. formality of Pharasaic observ
ance, 200.
origin and object of, 196.
regarded by Jews as a festival.
199, 202.
Sabbath-day's journey, 390.
Sadducees, disciples of John the Bap-
"tist, 87.
infidels, 192.
origin and history, 42, 192.
unite with the Pharisees against
Jesus, 402.
Salome, ambition of, 389.
Salutations of the Jews, 54.
Salvation, conditions of, 245.
not universal, 358.
Samaria, history of, 42, 127.
population of, 129.
Samaritan woman, 1 30.
Samaritans, character of, 129.
enmity between Jews and Samar
itans, 129.
Sanhedrim, attempt to arrest Jesus,
340. authority of, 454, 459.
constitution of, 441, 447.
convened for the trial of Jesus,
441, 444.
jurisdiction, 495.
origin, 32, 34, 42, 45.
perplexed by Christ's popularity,
397.
Satan, reality of, 96, 166.
Scape-goat, 91.
Scourging, 469.
Scribes, 46, 84, 189.
Scriptures, corruption of, 46.
Jesus familiar with, 1 43.
Jesus frequently refers to, 209,
278, 403.
origin of, 38.
Sectarianism rebuked, 127.
Self-denial, necessity of, 227,283, 361.

Sermon at Capernaum, 315.
Sermon on the Mount, scene of, 229,
231 n.
different reports of, 230 n.
object of, 232, 233 n.
Seventy, commission of, 364.
Shekel, value of, 407 n.
Sidon. See Tyre.
Simon of Cyrene, 478.
See Peter.
Sinai, Mount, 26.
Sins of the world borne by Jesus, 432.
Speech, freedom of, secured under Mo
ses, 35.
limitations of, 494.
Star of the East, 72.
State founded on religion, 29.
Suffrage universal in the Jewish com
monwealth, 31 .
Synagogue, a local tribunal, 45, 141 .
origin of, 42, 140.
service in, 141.
Tabernacles, Feast of, 333.
Talmud, 186.
Taxation, of a Roman province, 48.
under Cyrenius, 69 n.
Teaching of Jesus, for all time, 1 10.
not a gradual development, 125.
Temple, described, 114, 118.
destruction of, prophesied, 121,
479.
tax, 328.
trial of Jesus conducted in, 446.
Temperance, Jesus's teaching and ex
ample, 107, 111.
See Wine.
Temptation of Jesus, 93.
reality and appearance of Satan,
96.
scene of, 94.
third temptation not to be literal
ly interpreted, 99.
Theocracy, a republic, 31, 38.
a, union of tribes, 34.
equality of the people, 30.
judiciary, 34. »
land and industry, 37.
legislation, 33.
origin of, 26.
provisions for popular education,
35.
religious sanctions, 29.
rights of the people, 30.
Thief on the cross, 483.

534

INDEX.

Thomas, unbelief of, 503.
Towns built on hills, 50.
Traders, expulsion of, from the Tem
ple, 119, 395.
Traditions of the scribes, 185.
Transfiguration, 331.
site of, uncertain, 330.
Travel, means of, 60.
Trial of Jesus before Caiaphas, date
of, 447.
false witness, 449.
illegality of proceedings, 445, 451,
452.
indictment, 448, 491.
Jesus put upon oath, 451.
location uncertain, 446.
sentence, 452.
Trial of Jesus before Pilate, accusa
tion, 460, 491.
acquittal, 463.
defense, 462.
examined, 461.
location, 458.
scourged, 469.
sent to Herod, 466.
sentence, 473.
time of, 458.
Tribute to be rendered to Cassar, 403.
Triumphal entry, 39S.

Tyre and Sidon, past prosperity of,318.
present desolation of, 322.
Uncleanness, 267, 280.
Unpardonable sin, 273.
War discouraged by Moses, 38.
Washing, of disciples' feet by Jesus,
421. not wholly ceremonial, 58.
of hands, 278.
Pilate's, 469.
Wells of the Jews, 130.
Wine and myrrh, offered to Jesus at
the cross, 479.
of Palestine, three kinds, 109.
why Jesus made it at Cana, 107.
Woman, taken in adultery, 342.
" that was a sinner," 266.
Women, among the disciples, 258.
among the prophets, 83.
at the sepulchre, 499.
weeping for Jesus, 478.
Worldliness condemned, 244.
Zaccheus, character of, 384.
conversion of, 386.
Zacharias, son of Barachias, 282 ».

VALUABLE AND INTERESTING WORKS

FOR

PUBLIC & PRIVATE LIBRARIES,
Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.

53&° For a full List of Books suitable for Libraries published by Haepee & Broth.
ers, see Haepek's Catalogue, which may be had gratuitously on application
to the publishers personally, or by letter enclosing Nine Cents in Postage stamps.
J**"?" Haepee & Beotiiees will send their publications by mailt postage prepaid, on
receipt of the price.

MACAULAY'S ENGLAND. The History of England from the Ac
cession of James II. By Thomas Babington Macattlay. New
Edition, from new Electrotype Plates. 8vo, Cloth, with Paper La'-
bels, Uncut Edges and Gilt Tops, 5 vols, in a Box, $10 00 per set.
Sold only in Sets. Cheap Edition, 5 vols, in a, Box, 12mo, Cloth.,
$2 50 ; Sheep, $3 75.
MACAULAY'S MISCELLANEOUS WORKS. The Miscellaneous
Works of Lord Macaulay. From New Electrotype Plates. In Five
Volumes. 8vo, Cloth, with Paper Labels, Uncut Edges and Gilt
Tops, in a Box, $10 00. Sold only in Sets.
HUME'S ENGLAND. The History of England, from the Invasion
of Julius Caesar to the Abdication of James II. , 1688. By David
Hume. New and Elegant Library Edition, from new Electrotype
Plates. 6 vols, in a Box, 8vo, Cloth, with Paper Labels, Uncut
Edges and Gilt Tops, $12 00. Sold only in Sets. Popular Edition,
6 vols, in a Box, 12mo, Cloth, $3 00 ; Sheep, $4 50.
GIBBON'S ROME. The History of the Decline and Fall of the Ro
man Empire. By Edward Gibbon. With Notes by Dean Mil-
man, M. Guizot, and Dr. William Smith. New Edition, from new
Electrotype Plates. 6 vols., 8vo, Cloth, with Paper Labels, Uncut
Edges and Gilt Tops, $12 00. Sold only in Sets. Popular Edition,
6 vols, in a Box, 12mo, Cloth, $3 00 ; Sheep, $4 50.
HILDRETH'S UNITED STATES. History of the United Stated
First Series : From the Discovery of the Continent to the Organi
zation of the Government under the Federal Constitution. Second
Series : From the Adoption of the Federal Constitution to the End
of the Sixteenth Congress. By Richard Hildreth. Popular Edi
tion, 6 vols, in a Box, 8vo, Cloth, with Paper Labels, Uncut Edges
and Gilt Tops, $12 00. Sold only in Sets.

2 Valuable Works for Public and Private Libraries.
MOTLEY'S DUTCH REPUBLIC. The Rise of the Dutch Repub
lic. A History. By John Lothrop Motley, LL.D., D.C.L. With
a Portrait of William of Orange. Cheap Edition, 3 vols, in a Box,
8vo, Cloth, with Paper Labels, Uncut Edges and Gilt Tops, $6 00.
Sold only in Sets. Original Library Edition, 3 vols., 8vo, Cloth,
$10 50 ; Sheep, $12 00 ; Half Calf, $17 25.
MOTLEY'S UNITED NETHERLANDS. History of the United
Netherlands : from the Death of William the Silent to the Twelve
Years' Truce— 1584-1609. With a full View of the English-Dutch
Struggle against Spain, and of the Origin and Destruction of the
Spanish Armada. By John Lothrop Motley, LL.D., D.C.L.
Portraits. Cheap Edition, 4 vols, in a Box, 8vo, Cloth, with Paper
Labels, Uncut Edges and Gilt Tops, $8 00. Sold only in Sets.
Original Library Edition, 4 vols., 8vo, Cloth, $14 00 ; Sheep, $16 00 ;
Half Calf, $23 00.
MOTLEY'S LIFE AND DEATH OF JOHN OF BARNEVELD.
The Life and Death of John of Barneveld, Advocate of Holland :
with a View of the Primary Causes and Movements of "The Thir
ty Years' War." By John Lothrop Motley, LL.D., D.C.L. Illus
trated. Cheap Edition, 2 vols, in a Box, 8vo, Cloth, with Paper La
bels, Uncut Edges and Gilt Tops, $4 00. Sold only in Sets. Origi
nal Library Edition, 2 vols., 8vo, Cloth, $7 00; Sheep, $8 00; Half
Calf, $11 50.
GEDDES'S HISTORY OF JOHN DE WITT. History of the Ad
ministration of John De Witt, Grand Pensionary of Holland. By
James Geddes. Vol. I.— 1623-1654. With a Portrait. 8vo,
Cloth, $2 50.
SKETCHES AND STUDIES IN SOUTHERN EUROPE. By John
Addington Symonds. In Two Volumes. Post 8vo, Cloth, $4 00.
SYMONDS'S GREEK POETS. Studies of the Greek Poets. By
John Addington Symonds. 2 vols., Square 16mo, Cloth, $3 50.
BENJAMIN'S CONTEMPORARY ART. Contemporary Art in Eu
rope. By S. G. W. Benjamin. Illustrated. 8vo, Cloth, $3 50.
BENJAMIN'S ART IN AMERICA. Art in America. By S. G.
W. Benjamin. Illustrated. 8vo, Cloth, $4 00.
KINGLAKE'S CRIMEAN WAR. The Invasion of the Crimea : its
Origin, and an Account of its Progress down to the Death of Lord
Raglan. By Alexander William Kinglake. With Maps and
Plans. Four Volumes now ready. . 12mo, Cloth, $2 00 per vol.

Valuable Works for Public and Private Libraries. 3
TREVELYAN'S LIFE OF MACAULAY. The Life and Letters of
Lord Macaulay. By his Nephew, G. Otto Teevelyan, M.P. With
Portrait on Steel. Complete in 2 vols., 8vo, Cloth, Uncut Edges
and Gilt Tops, $5 00; Sheep, $6 00; Half Calf, $9 50. Popular
Edition, two vols, in one, 12mo, Cloth, $1 75.
TREVELYAN'S LIFE OF FOX. The Early History of Charles
James Fox. By George Otto Trevelyan. 8vo, Cloth, Uncut
Edges and Gilt Tops, $2 50 ; 4to, Paper, 20 cents.
HUDSON'S HISTORY OF JOURNALISM. Journalism in the
United States, from 1690 to 1872. By Frederic Hudson. 8vo,
Cloth, $5 00 ; Half Calf, $7 25.
LAMB'S COMPLETE WORKS. The Works of Charles Lamb.
Comprising his Letters, Poems, Essays of Elia, Essays upon Shak-
speare, Hogarth, etc., and a Sketch of his Life, with the Final Memo
rials, hy T. Noon Talfourd. With Portrait. 2 vols., 12mo, Cloth,
$3 00.
LAWRENCE'S HISTORICAL STUDIES. Historical Studies. By
Eugene Lawrence. Containing the following Essays : The Bish
ops of Rome. — Leo and Luther. — Loyola and the Jesuits. — Ecu
menical Councils. — The Vaudois. — The Huguenots. — The Church of
Jerusalem. — Dominic and the Inquisition. — The Conquest of Ireland.
—The Greek Church. 8vo, Cloth, Uncut Edges and Gilt Tops,
$3 00.
LOSSING'S FIELD-BOOK OF THE REVOLUTION. Pictorial
Field-Book of the Revolution ; or, Illustrations by Pen and Pencil
of the History, Biography, Scenery, Relics, and Traditions of the
War for Independence. By Benson J. Lossing. 2 vols., 8vo, Cloth,
$14 00 ; Sheep or Roan, $15 00 ; Half Calf, $18 00.
LOSSING'S FIELD-BOOK OF THE WAR OF 1812. Pictorial
Field-Book of the War of 1812 ; or, Illustrations by Pen and Pencil
of the History, Biography, Scenery, Relics, and Traditions of the last
War for American Independence. By Benson J. Lossing. With
several hundred Engravings on Wood by Lossing and Barritt, chiefly
from Original Sketches by the Author. 1088 pages, 8vo, Cloth,
$7 00 ; Sheep, $8 50 ; Roan, $9 00 ; Half Calf, $10 00.
FORSTER'S LIFE OF DEAN SWIFT. The Early Life of Jonathan
Swift (1667-1711). By John Forster. With Portrait. 8vo, Cloth,
Uncut Edges and Gilt Tops, $2 50.
GREEN'S ENGLISH PEOPLE. History of the English People. By
John Richard Gkeen, M.A. Four Volumes. 8vo, Cloth, $2 50
per volume.

4 Valuable Works for. Public and Private Libraries.
SHORT'S NORTH AMERICANS OF ANTIQUITY. The North
Americans of Antiquity. Their Origin, Migrations, and Type of
Civilization Considered. By John T. Short. Illustrated. 8vo,
Cloth, $3 00.
SQUIER'S PERU. Peru: Incidents of Travel and Exploration in
the Land of the Incas. By E. George Squier, M.A., F.S.A., late
U. S. Commissioner to Peru. With Illustrations. 8vo, Cloth, $5 00.
BLAIKIE'S LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. Dr. Livingstone:
Memoir of his Personal Life, from his Unpublished Journals and
Correspondence. By W. G. Blaikie, D.D., LL.D. With Portrait
and Map. 8vo, Cloth, $2 25.
MAURY'S PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY OF THE SEA. The Physi
cal Geography of the Sea, and its Meteorology. By M. F. Maury,
LL.D. 8vo, Cloth, $4 00.
SCHWEINFURTH'S HEART OF AFRICA. The Heart of Africa.
Three Years' Travels and Adventures in the Unexplored Regions of
the Centre of Africa— from 1868 to 1871. By Dr. Georg Schwein-
furth. Translated by Ellen E. Frewer. With an Introduction
by W. Winwood Reade. Illustrated. 2 vols., 8vo, Cloth, $8 00.
M'CLINTOCK & STRONG'S CYCLOPAEDIA. Cyclopaedia of Bib
lical, Theological, and Ecclesiastical Literature. Prepared by the
Rev. John M'Clintock, D.D., and James Strong, S.T.D. Com
plete in 10 vols. Royal 8vo. Price per vol., Cloth, $5 00; Sheep,
$6 00 ; Half Morocco, $8 00.
MOHAMMED AND MOHAMMEDANISM : Lectures Delivered at
the Royal Institution of Great Britain in February and March, 1874.
By R. Bosworth Smith, M.A. With an Appendix containing
Emanuel Deutsch's Article on " Islam." 12mo, Cloth, $1 50.
MOSHEIM'S ECCLESIASTICAL HISTORY, Ancient and Modern ;
in which the Rise, Progress, and Variation of Church Power are con
sidered in their Connection with the State of Learning and Philos
ophy, and the Political History of Europe during that Period. Trans
lated, with Notes, etc., by A. Maclaine, D.D. Continued to 1826,
by C. Coote, LL.D. 2 vols., 8vo, Cloth, $4 00; Sheep, $5 00.
HARPER'S NEW CLASSICAL LIBRARY. Literal Translations.
The following volumes are now ready. 12mo, Cloth, $1 00 each.
Cesar. — Virgil. — Sallust. — Horace. — Cicero's Orations. —
Cicero's Offices, etc. — Cicero on Oratory and Orators. —
Tacitus (2 vols.). — Terence. — Sophocles. — Juvenal. — Xeno-
phon. — Homer's Iliad. — Homer's Odyssey. — Herodotus. — De
mosthenes (2 vols.). — Thucydides. — iEscHYLUs. — Euripides (2
vols.). — Livy (2 vols.). — Plato [Select Dialogues].

Valuable .Works for Public and Private Libraries. 5
VINCENT'S LAND OF THE WHITE ELEPHANT. The Land
of the White Elephant : Sights and Scenes in Southeastern Asia. A
Personal Narrative of Travel and Adventure in Farther India, em
bracing the Countries of Burma, Siam, Cambodia, and Cochin-China
(1871-2). By Frank Vincent, Jr. Illustrated. Crown 8vo,
Cloth, $3 50.
LIVINGSTONE'S SOUTH AFRICA. Missionary Travels and Re
searches in South Africa : including a Sketch of Sixteen Years'
Residence in the Interior of Africa, and a Journey from the Cape of
Good Hope to Loanda on the West Coast ; thence across the Con
tinent, down the River Zambesi, to the Eastern Ocean. By David
Livingstone, LL.D., D.C.L. With Portrait, Maps, and Illustra
tions. 8vo, Cloth, $4 50 ; Sheep, $5 00 ; Half Calf, $6 75.
LIVINGSTONE'S ZAMBESI. Narrative of an Expedition to the
Zambesi and its Tributaries, and of the Discovery of the Lakes Shir-
wa and Nyassa, 1858-1864. By David and Charles Livingstone.
Map and Illustrations. 8vo, Cloth, $5 00 ; Sheep, $5 50 ; Half Calf,
$7 25.
LIVINGSTONE'S LAST JOURNALS. The Last Journals of David
Livingstone, in Central Africa, from 1865 to his Death. Continued
by a Narrative of his Last Moments and Sufferings, obtained from
his Faithful Servants Chuma and Susi. By Horace Waller,
F.R.G.S., Rector of Twywell, Northampton. With Portrait, Maps,
and Illustrations. 8vo, Cloth, $5 00 ; Sheep, $5 50 ; Half Calf,
$7 25. Cheap Popular Edition, 8vo, Cloth, with Map and Illustra
tions, $2 50.
NORDHOFF'S COMMUNISTIC SOCIETIES OF THE UNITED
STATES. The Communistic Societies of the United States, from
Personal Visit and Observation ; including Detailed Accounts of the
Economists, Zoarites, Shakers, the Amana, Oneida, Bethel, Aurora,
Icarian, and other existing Societies. With Particulars of their Re
ligious Creeds and Practices, their Social Theories and Life, Num
bers, Industries, and Present Condition. By Charles Nordhoff.
Illustrations. 8vo, Cloth, $4 00.
NORDHOFF'S CALIFORNIA. California: for Health, Pleasure,
and Residence. A Book for Travellers and Settlers. Illustrated.
8vo, Cloth, $2 50.
NORDHOFF'S NORTHERN CALIFORNIA AND THE SAND
WICH ISLANDS. Northern California, Oregon, and the Sandwich
Islands. By Charles Nordhoff. Illustrated. 8vo, Cloth, $2 50.
GROTE'S HISTORY OF GREECE. 12 vols., 12mo, Cloth, $18 00 j
Sheep, $22 80 ; Half Calf, $39 00.

6 Valuable Works for Public and Private Libraries.
RECLUS'S EARTH. The Earth: a Descriptive History of the Phe
nomena of the Life of the Globe. By ElisiSe Reclus. With 234
Maps and Illustrations, and 23 Page Maps printed in Colors. 8vo,
Cloth, $5 00.
RECLUS'S OCEAN. The Ocean, Atmosphere, and Life. Being the
Second Series of a Descriptive History of the Life of the Globe. By
F^lisee Reclus. Profusely Illustrated with 250 Maps or Figures,
and 27 Maps printed in Colors. 8vo, Cloth, $6 00.
SHAKSPEARE. The Dramatic Works of William Shakspeare. With
Corrections and Notes. Engravings. 6 vols., 12mo, Cloth, $9 00.
2 vols., 8vo, Cloth, $4 00 ; Sheep, $5 00. In one vol., 8vo, Sheep,
$4 00.
BAKER'S ISMAILIA. Ismailia: a Narrative of the Expedition to
Central Africa for the Suppression of the Slave-trade, organized by
Ismail, Khedive of Egypt. By Sir Samuel White Baker, Pasha,
F.R.S., F.R.G.S. With Maps, Portraits, and Illustrations. 8vo,
Cloth, $5 00 ; Half Calf, $7 25.
GRIFFIS'S JAPAN. The Mikado's Empire : Book I. History of Ja
pan, from 660 B.C. to 1872 A.D. Book II. Personal Experiences,
Observations, and Studies in Japan, 1870-1874. By William El
liot Griffis, A.M., late of the Imperial University of Tokio, Japan.
Copiously Illustrated. 8vo, Cloth, $4 00 ; Half Calf, $6 25.
SMILES'S HISTORY OF THE HUGUENOTS. The Huguenots:
their Settlements, Churches, and Industries in England and Ireland.
By Samuel Smiles. With an Appendix relating to the Huguenots
in America. Crown 8vo, Cloth, $2 00.
SMILES'S HUGUENOTS AFTER THE REVOCATION. The Hu
guenots in France after the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes ; with
a Visit to the .Country of the Vaudois. By Samuel Smiles. Crown
8vo, Cloth, $2 00.
SMILES'S LIFE OF THE STEPHENSONS. The Life of George
Stephenson, and of his Son, Robert Stephenson ; comprising, also,
a History of the Invention and Introduction of the Railway Loco
motive. By Samuel Smiles. With Steel Portraits and numerous
Illustrations. 8vo, Cloth, $3 00.
KAWLINSON'S MANUAL OF ANCIENT HISTORY. A Manual
of Ancient History, from the Earliest Times to the Fall of the
Western Empire. Comprising the History of Chaldaea, Assyria, Me
dia, Babylonia, Lydia, Phoenicia, Syria, Judaea, Egypt, Carthage,
Persia, Greece, Macedonia, Parthia, and Rome. By George Raw
linson, M.A., Camden Professor of Ancient History in the Univer<
sity of Oxford. 12mo, Cloth, $1 25.

Valuable Works for Public and Private Libraries. 7
SCHLIEMANN'S ILIOS. Hios, the City and Country of the Trojans.
A Narrative of the Most Recent Discoveries and Researches made
on the Plain of Troy. With Illustrations representing nearly 2000
Types of the Objects found in the Excavations of the Seven Cities
on the Site of Hios. By Dr. Henry Schliemann. Maps, Plans,
and Illustrations. Imperial 8vo, Hluminated Cloth, $12 00.
ALISON'S HISTORY OF EUROPE. First Series : From the Com
mencement of the French Revolution, in 1789, to the Restoration
of the Bourbons in 1815. [In addition to the Notes on Chapter
LXXVL, which correct the errors of the original work concerning
the United States, a copious Analytical Index has been appended to
this American Edition.] Second Series : From the Fall of Napo
leon, in 1815, to the Accession of Louis Napoleon, in 1852. 8 vols.,
8vo, Cloth, $16 00 ; Sheep, $20 00 ; Half Calf, $34 00.
NORTON'S STUDIES OF CHURCH-BUILDING. Historical Stud
ies of Church-Building in the Middle Ages. Venice, Siena, Flor
ence. By Charles Eliot Norton. 8vo, Cloth, $3 00.
BOSWELL'S JOHNSON. The Life of Samuel Johnson, LL.D., in
cluding a Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides. By James Boswell.
Edited by J. W. Croker, LL.D., F.R.S. With a Portrait of Bos
well. 2 vols., 8vo, Cloth, $4 00 ; Sheep, $5 00 ; Half Calf, $8 50.
ADDISON'S COMPLETE WORKS. The Works of Joseph Addi
son, embracing the whole of the Spectator. 3 vols., 8vo, Cloth,
$6 00 ; Sheep, $7 50 ; Half Calf, $12 75.
SAMUEL JOHNSON: HIS WORDS AND HIS WAYS; what he
Said, what he Did, and what Men Thought and Spoke concerning
him. Edited by E. T. Mason. 12mo, Cloth, $1 50.
JOHNSON'S COMPLETE WORKS. The Works of Samuel John
son, LL.D. With an Essay on his Life and Genius, by A. Murphy.
2 vols., 8vo, Cloth, $4 00 ; Sheep, $5 00 ; Half Calf, $8 50.
THE VOYAGE OF THE "CHALLENGER." The Atlantic: an
Account of the General Results of the Voyage during 1873, and the
Early Part of 1876. By Sir Wyville Thomson, K.C.B., F.R.S.
With numerous Illustrations, Colored Maps, and Charts, and Portrait
of the Author. 2 vols., 8vo, Cloth, $12 00.
BLUNT'S BEDOUIN TRIBES OF THE EUPHRATES. Bedouin
Tribes of the Euphrates. By Lady Anne Blunt. Edited, with a
Preface and some Account of the Arabs and their Horses, by W. S. B
Map and Sketches by the Author. 8vo, Cloth, $2 50.

8 Valuable Works for Publie and Private Libraries.
BOURNE'S LOCKE. The Life of John Locke. By H. R. Fox
Bourne. 2 vols., 8vo, Cloth, Uncut Edges and Gilt Tops, $5 00.
BROUGHAM'S AUTOBIOGRAPHY. Life and Times of Henry,
Lord Brougham. Written by Himself. 3 vols., 12mo, Cloth, $6 00.
THOMPSON'S PAPACY AND THE CIVIL POWER. The Pa
pacy and the Civil Power. By the Hon. R. W. Thompson, Secretary
of the U. S. Navy. Crown 8vo, Cloth, $3 00.
ENGLISH CORRESPONDENCE. Four Centuries of English Let
ters. Selections from the Correspondence of One Hundred and Fif
ty Writers from the Period of the Paston Letters to the Present
Day. Edited by W. Baptiste Scoones. 12mo, Cloth, $2 00.
THE POETS AND POETRY OF SCOTLAND : From the Earliest
to the Present Time. Comprising Characteristic Selections from
the Works of the more Noteworthy Scottish Poets, with Biographi
cal and Critical Notices. By James Grant Wilson. With Portraits _
on Steel. 2 vols., 8vo, Cloth, $10 00; Sheep, $12 00 ; Half Calf,
$14 50 ; Full Morocco, $18 00.
THE STUDENT'S SERIES. Maps and Illustrations. 12mo, Cloth.
France. — Gibbon. — Greece. — Rome (by Liddell). — Old Tes
tament History. — New Testament History. — Strickland's
Queens of England (Abridged). — Ancient History of the
East. — Hallam's Middle Ages. — Hallam's Constitutional
History of England. — Lyell's Elements of Geology. — Meri-
vale's General History of Rome. — Cox's General History
of Greece. — Classical Dictionary. $1 25 per volume.
Lewis's History of Germany. — Ecclesiastical History. —
Hume's England. $1 50 per volume.
CRUISE OF THE " CHALLENGER." Voyages over many Seas,
Scenes in many Lands. By W. J. J. Spry, R.N. With Map and
Illustrations. Crown 8vo, Cloth, $2 00.
DARWIN'S VOYAGE OF A NATURALIST. Voyage of a Natu
ralist. Journal of Researches into the Natural History and Geology
of the Countries visited during the Voyage of H.M.S. Beagle round
the World. By Charles Darwin. 2 vols., 12mo, Cloth, $2 00.
CAMERON'S ACROSS AFRICA. Across Africa. ByVERNEYLov-
ett Cameron. Map and Illustrations. 8vo, Cloth, $5 00.
BARTH'S NORTH AND CENTRAL AFRICA. Travels and Dis
coveries in North and Central Africa : being a Journal of an Expe
dition undertaken under the Auspices of H.B.M.'s Government, in
the Years 1849-1855. By Henry Barth, Ph.D., D.C.L. Illustra
ted. 3 vols., 8vo, Cloth, $12 00 ; Sheep, $13 50 ; Half Calf, $18 75.

Valuable Works for Public and Private Libraries. 9
THE REVISION OF THE ENGLISH VERSION OF THE NEW
TESTAMENT. With an Introduction by the Rev. P. Schaff, D.D.
618 pp., Crown 8vo, Cloth, $3 00. Embracing in one vol. :
I. ON A FRESH REVISION OF THE ENGLISH NEW TES
TAMENT. By J. B. Lightfoot, D.D., Canon of St. Paul's.
Second Edition, Revised.
H. ON THE AUTHORIZED VERSION OF THE NEW TES
TAMENT in Connection with some Recent Proposals for its
Revision. By R. C. Trench, D.D., Archbishop of Dublin.
HI. CONSIDERATIONS ON THE REVISION OF THE ENG
LISH VERSION OF THE NEW TESTAMENT. By C. J.
Ellicott, D.D., Bishop of Gloucester and Bristol.
NICHOLS'S ART EDUCATION. Art Education applied to Indus
try. By G. W. Nichols. Ill'd. 8vo, Cloth, $4 00 ; Half Calf, $6 25.
CARLYLE'S FREDERICK THE GREAT. History of Friedrich
IL, called Frederick the Great. By Thomas Carlyle. Portraits,
Maps, Plans, etc. 6 vols., 12mo, Cloth, $7 50 ; Sheep, $9 90 ; Half
Calf, $18 00.
CARLYLE'S FRENCH REVOLUTION. The French Revolution:
A History. By Thomas Carlyle. 2 vols., 12mo, Cloth, $2 50;
Sheep, $3 30 ; Half Calf, $6 00.
CARLYLE'S OLIVER CROMWELL. Oliver Cromwell's Letters
and Speeches, including the Supplement to the First Edition. With
Elucidations. By Thomas Carlyle. 2 vols., 12mo, Cloth, $2 50;
Sheep, $3 30 ; Half Calf, $6 00.
BULWER'S HORACE. The Odes and Epodes of Horace. A Metric
cal Translation into English. With Introduction and Commentaries.
By Lord Lytton. With Latin Text from the Editions of Orelli, Mac-
leane, and Yonge. 12mo, Cloth, $1 75.
BULWER'S KING ARTHUR. King Arthur. A Poem. By Lord
Lytton. 12mo, Cloth, $1 75.
BULWER'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. The Miscellane
ous Prose Works of Lord Lytton. 2 vols., 12mo, Cloth, $3 50.
Also, in uniform style, Caxtoniana. 12mo, Cloth, $1 75.
EATON'S CIVIL SERVICE. Civil Service in Great Britain. A
History of Abuses and Reforms, and their Bearing upon American
• Politics. By Dorman B. Eaton. 8vo, Cloth, $2 50.
DAVIS'S CARTHAGE. Carthage and her Remains : being an Ac
count of the Excavations and Researches on the Site of the Phoeni
cian Metropolis in Africa and other Adjacent Places. By Dr. N.
Davis. Hlustrated. 8vo, Cloth, $4 00 ; Half Calf, $6 25.

10 Valuable Works for Public and Private Libraries.
ABBOTT'S HISTORY OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. The
French Revolution of 1789, as viewed in the Light of Republican
Institutions. By John S. C. Abbott. Illustrated. 8vo, Cloth,
$5 00 ; Sheep, $5 50 ; Half Calf, $7 25.
ABBOTT'S NAPOLEON. The History of Napoleon Bonaparte. By
John S. C. Abbott. Maps, Illustrations, and Portraits. 2 vols.,
8vo, Cloth, $10 00; Sheep, $11 00; Half Calf, $14 50.
ABBOTT'S NAPOLEON AT ST. HELENA. Napoleon at St. He
lena ; or, Anecdotes and Conversations of the Emperor during the
Years of his Captivity. Collected from the Memorials of Las Casas,
O'Meara, Montholon, Antommarchi, and others. By J. S. C. Ab
bott. Ill'd. 8vo, Cloth, $5 00 ; Sheep, $5 50 ; Half Calf, $7 25.
ABBOTT'S FREDERICK THE GREAT. The History of Frederick
the Second, called Frederick the Great. By John S. C. Abbott.
Illustrated. 8vo, Cloth, $5 00 ; Half Calf, $7 25.
DRAPER'S CIVIL WAR. History of the American Civil War. By
John W. Draper, M.D., LL.D. 3 vols., 8vo, Cloth, Bevelled Edges,
$10 50 ; Sheep, $12 00 ; Half Calf, $17 25.
DRAPER'S INTELLECTUAL DEVELOPMENT OF EUROPE.
A History of the Intellectual Development of Europe. By John
W. Draper, M.D., LL.D. New Edition, Revised. 2 vols., 12mo,
Cloth, $3 00 ; Half Calf, $6 50.
DRAPER'S AMERICAN CIVIL POLICY. Thoughts on the Future
Civil Policy of America. By John W. Draper, M.D., LL.D,
Crown 8vo, Cloth, $2 00; Half Morocco, $3 75.
TROLLOPE'S CICERO. Life of Cicero. By Anthony Trollope.
2 vols., 12mo, Cloth, $3 00.
PERRY'S HISTORY OF THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND. A His
tory of the English Church, from the Accession of Henry VIII. to
the Silencing of Convocation. By G. G. Perry, M.A. With a
Sketch of the History of the Protestant Episcopal Church in the
United States, by J. A. Spencer, S.T.D. Crown 8vo, Cloth, $2 50.
MCCARTHY'S HISTORY OF ENGLAND. A History of Our Own
Times, from the Accession of Queen Victoria to the General Election
of 1880. By Justin McCarthy. 2 vols., 12mo, Cloth, $2 50.
ABBOTT'S DICTIONARY OF RELIGIOUS KNOWLEDGE. A
Dictionary of Religious Knowledge, for Popular and Professional
Use ; comprising full Information on Biblical, Theological, and Ec
clesiastical Subjects. With nearly 1000 Maps and Illustrations.
Edited by Lyman Abbott, with the Co-operation of T. J. Conant,
D.D. Royal 8vo, Cloth, $6 00 ; Sheep, $7 00 ; Half Morocco, $8 50.

Valuable Works for Public and Private Libraries. 11
PARTON'S CARICATURE. Caricature and Other Comic Art, in
All Times and Many Lands. By James Parton. 203 Ill's. 8vo,
Cloth, Uncut Edges and Gilt Tops, $5 00 ; Half Calf, $7 25.
MAHAFFY'S GREEK LITERATURE. A History of Classical
Greek Literature. By J. P. Mahaffy. 2 vols., 12mo, Cloth, $4 00.
DU CHAILLU'S EQUATORIAL AFRICA. Explorations and Ad
ventures in Equatorial Africa : with Accounts of the Manners and
Customs of the People, and of the Chase of the Gorilla, Crocodile,
Leopard, Elephant, Hippopotamus, and other Animals. By P. B. Du
Chaillu. Ill'd. 8vo, Cloth, $5 00 ; Sheep, $5 50 ; Half Calf, $7 25.
DU CHAILLU'S ASHANGO LAND. A Journey to Ashango Land,
and Further Penetration intoEquatorial Africa. By P. B. Du Chail
lu. Ill'd. 8vo, Cloth, $5 00 ; Sheep, $5 50 ; Half Calf, $7 25.
DEXTER'S CONGREGATIONALISM. The Congregationalism of
the Last Three Hundred Years, as seen in its Literature : with Spe
cial Reference to certain Recondite, Neglected, or Disputed Passages.
With a Bibliographical Appendix. By H. M. Dexter. Large 8vo,
Cloth, $6 00.
BAYNE'S LESSONS FROM MY MASTERS. Lessons from My
Masters : Carlyle, Tennyson, and Ruskin. By Peter Bayne, M.A.,
LL.D. 12mo, Cloth, $1 75.
STANLEY'S THROUGH THE DARK CONTINENT. Through
the Dark Continent ; or, The Sources of the Nile, Around the Great
Lakes of Equatorial Africa, and Down the Livingstone River to the
Atlantic Ocean. 149 Ill's and 10 Maps. By H. M. Stanley. 2
vols., 8vo, Cloth, $10 00 ; Sheep, $12 00 ; Half Morocco, $15 00.
ENGLISH MEN OF LETTERS. Edited hy John Morley. The
following volumes are now ready. Others will follow.
Johnson. By L. Stephen. — Gibbon. By J. C. Morison. — Scott.
By R. H. Hutton. — Shelley. By J. A. Symonds. — Goldsmith.
By W. Black. — Hume. By Professor Huxley. — Defoe. By W.
Minto. — Burns. By Principal Shairp. — Spenser. By R. W.
Church. — Thackeray. By A. Trollope. — Burke. By J. Morley. —
Milton. By M. Pattison. — Southey. By E. Dowden. — Chaucer.
By A. W. Ward.— Bunyan. By J. A. Froude. — Cowper. By G.
Smith. — Pope. By L. Stephen. — Byron. By J. Nichols. — Locke.
By T. Fowler. — Wordsworth. By F. W. H. Myers. — Landor.
By S. Colvin. 12mo, Cloth, 75 cents per volume.
Hawthorne. By Henry James, Jr. 12mo, Cloth, $1 00.
STRICKLAND'S (Miss) QUEENS OF SCOTLAND. Lives of the
Queens of Scotland and English Princesses connected with the Re
gal Succession of Great Britain. By Agnes Strickland. 8 vols.,
12mo, Cloth, $12 00 ; Half Calf, $26 00.

12 . Valuable Works for Public and Private Libraries.
BARTLETT'S FROM EGYPT TO PALESTINE. From Egypt to
Palestine : Through Sinai, the Wilderness, and the South Country.
Observations of a Journey made with Special Reference to the His
tory of the Israelites. By S. C. Bartlett, D.D., LL.D. With
Maps and Illustrations. 8vo, Cloth, $3 50.
CESNOLA'S CYPRUS. Cyprus : its Ancient Cities, Tombs, and
Temples. A Narrative of Researches and Excavations during Ten
Years' Residence in that Island. By L. P. di Cesnola. With Por
trait, Maps, and 400 Illustrations. 8vo, Cloth, Extra, Gilt Tops and
Uncut Edges, $7 50.
TENNYSON'S COMPLETE POEMS. The Poetical Works of Al
fred Tennyson. With numerous Illustrations by Eminent Artists, and
Three Characteristic Portraits. 8vo, Paper, $1 00 ; Cloth, $1 50.
VAN-LENNEP'S BIBLE LANDS. Bible Lands: their Modern Cus
toms and Manners Illustrative of Scripture. By Henry J. Van-
Lennep, D.D. 350 Engravings and 2 Colored Maps. 8vo, Cloth,
$5 00 ; Sheep, $6 00 ; Half Morocco or Half Calf, $8 00.
HALLAM'S LITERATURE. Introduction to the Literature of Eu
rope during the Fifteenth, Sixteenth, and Seventeenth Centuries. By
Henry Hallam. 2 vols., 8vo, Cloth, $4 00 ; Sheep, $5 00.
HALLAM'S MIDDLE AGES. View of the State of Europe during
the Middle Ages. By H. Hallam. 8vo, Cloth, $2 00 ; Sheep, $2 50.
HALLAM'S CONSTITUTIONAL HISTORY OF ENGLAND. The
Constitutional History of England, from the Accession of Henry VII.
to the Death of George II. By Henry Hallam. 8vo, Cloth, $2 00 ;
Sheep, $2 50.
FLAMMARION'S ATMOSPHERE. The Atmosphere. Transla
ted from the French of Camille Flammarion. With 10 Chromo-
Lithographs and 86 Woodcuts. 8vo, Cloth, $6 00 ; Half Calf, $8 25.
ANNUAL RECORD OF SCIENCE AND INDUSTRY. Edited hy
Professor Spencer F. Baird, with the Assistance of Eminent Men
of Science. The Volumes for 1871, 1872, 1873, 1874, 1875, 1876,
1877, 1878 are ready. 12mo, Cloth, $2 00 per vol. ; $15 00 per set.
NEWCOMB'S ASTRONOMY. Popular Astronomy. By Simon
Newcomb, LL.D. With 112 Engravings, and 5 Maps of the Stars.
8vo, Cloth, $ School Edition, 12mo, Cloth, $1 30.
PRIME'S POTTERY AND PORCELAIN. Pottery and Porcelain
of All Times and Nations. With Tables of Factory and Artists'
Marks, for the Use of Collectors. By William C. Prime, LL.D.
Illustrated. 8vo, Cloth, Uncut Edges and Gilt Tops, $7 00 ; Half
Calf, $9 25. (In a Box.)

86E9 90L90